#he doesn't know who he is and this show should be about him discovering that!

[5five5five5five5five5five]

please old man/bookclub five headcanons, I loved ur last post about him!

hope you're feeling okay :]

Gasp!

I'm going to assume normal bookclub bc idk what s4 "bookclub" is. But I can totally ramble off about him in a casual club for books.

*he reads the books too fast and gets more peeved at the others who end up going very very slow. If someone doesn't finish a book, he admittly makes a comment "why are you in a book club if you can't finish a book is beyond me but-" old man shrug. It's not a fight worth having, he's just being a dick.

* brings the members strawberries and other fresh produce when he can. He likes showing off the stuff he grows and brings snacks.

*gets REALLY into the books. It's like he gets a micro fandom to be in every month. He reads it though like 3 times and then listens to the audio book once. Looks up if there's anything else. Maybe even discovers fanfiction...but he tries not to get that desperate.....he's read a few for particularly addictive books.

*has given a huge ramble about how the Great Gatsby would have been better and a lot of stuff settled if Gatsby and caraway kissed. He does it so casually too like he's not trying to make a progressive point or spark bigger queer discussion. He just genuinely thinks that's the answer to the book. More man kissing.

* speaking of, the more queer books they end up reading, the more he questions his everything. He probably has gone up to Viktor about stuff in these books and try to weasel out a "no it's not like that. Your totally a normal cishet man five." but neh it's ALWAYS "yeah that seems very realistic to the queer existence. Why so curious?" And he ends up not being able to admit he connects with said books. Viktor knows but he's not going to hound his brother any time soon. Five knows once he leaves the closet,there's people waiting to be supportive.

*the old ladies there can't stop babying him. He tries very hard to be as old man and as mature as he can but they don't listen and pinch his cheeks and pat his head. He is trying to do less sudden grandma wrist breaking to he takes it for the most part. They can be wrong. He will keep doing what he does. And he hates to admit the attention from women in his age range is nice. Sad he can't make any moves.

* for the holidays the bookclub goes caroling. Five isn't a fan but tags along. They most likely end up at one of his siblings houses and he gets cold feet. They can't see him in a dorky sweater and singing. Last Christmas he threw a fit about sweaters. But if he doesn't move, the club will leave him in the snow. Ruthless old farts.

Allison answers the door. Around 5 old people, 4 local parents and......five??? They stare daggers at eachother as five poorly sings oh holy night with the group. Then leaves. The other members noticed the tension but didn't want to say much.

*Lila tried to join once to get 'in' with the parents that are involved but was so booooored. "Five, no one should be having this much fun talking this much about a book. Period. Im almost concerned that you have finally gone senial."

*if five didn't like a book, he makes a PowerPoint on why and how. He is very detailed in his opinions. He wishes the others would do the same but no body can match his freak.

*he brings mr. Pennycrumb with him bc service dog and everyone there loves him.

* I think everyone assumes five is just a very lonely mentally or physically ill young man and try there best to be nice. He isn't fond of there borderline pity but he enjoys there company none the less.

* Diana from the PTA makes the best lemon cookies. Five eats more than he should.

*on top of book club, they like to take outings together to walk around and see the community. Do easy elderly friendly geocashes and eat at local cafes. Five likes when they go to the library because then they can snoop around for more books.

I hope you like these :3

[emptyjunior]

Not to repeat history and make the hunger games all about what boy katniss Loves again😭 But I am still continually haunted by Finnick finding out that Peeta and Katniss love each other for real.

Like Finnick has been in this industry a longgg time. He knows what it is to construct a story for the games, and I think he really does respect the two of them creating this lovestory narrative, it provides them a lot of protection, it makes them a lot harder to pair up with others especially if they're BOTH in the public eye, it literally saved their lives in the arena.

That scene when he approaches Katniss with the sugar cubes, she thinks he's flirting with her but those winks and little in jokes, that is a co conspirator and fellow trickster trying to tell her hey I get it, hey I'm in on the joke.

But Finnick can only withstand all of this, withstand the suffering he endured because his real love is secret. He has something to protect, something real to go back to that's hidden and out of the public's eye.

So his dawning realization that Peeta and Katniss's story is REAL, is TRUE is horror for him. It's pity and horror. He's a boy who's experienced basically slavery and abuse since he was a child, and he's looking at Katniss with pity. Because he sold something cheap. He gets to sell the fake story of a playboy and capital harlot to the world, something that he could not care less about losing pieces of.

Katniss and Peeta are selling their love. The very real, awkward tween crush stage of their life, the companionship of two people who look out for each other, they had to flip that outwards and show it to the world. Let vultures take off pieces and push and shove them around. The entire world present for a young girl's first kiss, which should have allowed to be private for an incredibly private person, should have allowed to be messy and weird, they had to make it movie star worthy. And Katniss had to declare she loved Peeta forever after one kiss, even though her in the real life needed much more time to open up. Peeta had to have his feelings pulled out of him and played with, when he knows Katniss doesn't feel the same yet. He's an incredibly smart person, he knows when someone is faking and he had to watch the girl he loved pretend to love him back or she would Die it's horrifying.

So yeah, Finnick's shock at discovering that under their fake story is a Real story that has been harvested for parts makes me dizzy to think about

[maidenvault]

During my last rewatch of the prequels I was actually shocked by how much I've misremembered or decontextualized certain moments in my mind because of how they're often talked about in fandom as showing the Jedi as too arrogant, too bureaucratic, generally just burying their heads in the sand while everything goes bad etc. So I'm gonna try to address every individual scene that typically gets brought up to argue that this is an actual theme in Lucas's portrayal of the Order.

The Council doesn't take Qui-Gon's account of meeting a Sith seriously.

Mace and Ki Adi Mundi do both express doubt this guy could be a Sith. (Understandably! Historically they've never known Sith to be able to hide their existence, and for them to have survived totally in secret for a thousand years is a pretty wild thing for Qui-Gon to be so sure of.)

BUT Yoda admits that the dark side is hard to see, and Mace assures Qui-Gon they'll do everything to find out the identity of the attacker. Later he's ordered to go back to Naboo and try to draw out Maul to discover more. Qui-Gon accepts this and doesn't ask for backup. Why should he? He held his own against Maul before, and Maul's probably not gonna show himself again to face a ton of Jedi. They end up missing the chance to learn who trained Maul because of how things go down, but Qui-Gon's death isn't the result of the Council mishandling the situation.

At the funeral, Yoda says the presence of one Sith means there's another out there. They know they've got to be on guard now and will be, but they've got no more leads for now.

2. Qui-Gon's not here to free slaves.

There's this idea that slavery existing on Tatooine shows the Order is apparently too tied up doing shady things for self-interested politicians (footage not found) to help the people who really need it. But Padme's shocked to know the Skywalkers are slaves for a reason. The truth is there isn't a lot of slavery in the galaxy at this time because the Jedi have helped keep it that way for centuries only by working with the Republic. In TCW we see that Zygerrian slavers have a particular hatred of Jedi because they're literally The Anti Slavery People and did so much of the work to crack down on their trade. But Tatooine is controlled by the Hutts and they simply don't have the resources to start a war with them.

(And honestly, it's crazy how people talk like Qui-Gon's a monster for honestly and apologetically telling Anakin no, that's not why he's here. This is a child he's already indebted to and who has a hero-worshipping idea of Jedi, it would be fucked up for him not to be clear about how he can't help him and his mom.)

3. They doubt Dooku could be behind the assassination attempt.

This I understand shows the Jedi to be a little naive. But they knew Dooku as a good man, and at this point he and his followers are still putting on a show of wanting to secede for idealistic reasons (and a few of them, manipulated by Dooku, actually do have good intentions). Only later do the Jedi learn they're illegally building an army before they've even officially left the Republic and clearly have no interest in the peaceful resolution Padme's been advocating for. And they only find this out because they have Obi-Wan investigate the assassin and this very quickly leads him to Dooku.

4. "Arrogance, yes. A trait more and more common among Jedi. Even the older, more experienced ones."

In context, this line from Yoda is clearly not meant to be taken so seriously. Obi-Wan says he fears Anakin is too arrogant, and this is Yoda's light-hearted way of telling him not to be so hard on him. Part of training a Padawan is learning to trust them so they can grow, and Obi-Wan perhaps needs the reminder that he isn't done learning himself.

Of course Yoda saying this could be partly motivated by them having been caught off guard before by the existence of Darth Maul and the dark side clouding their awareness, as we're told repeatedly throughout the PT they know is a problem. But it's kind of contradictory to take this as confirmation that this is a serious fatal flaw of theirs. If someone acknowledges their own arrogance then they're aware of their ability to be wrong, which means they can't actually be that arrogant. If truly meant in a general sense and not just as a gentle reproof of Obi-Wan, it's a pretty self-deprecating comment coming from Yoda.

5. "If an item does not appear in our records, it does not exist."

Chief Librarian Jocasta Nu gives this haughty response to Obi-Wan looking for Kamino, a system that's not in the Jedi Archives. So being so overly confident in the infallible knowledge of the Jedi, he takes her word for it and totally drops this lead.

Except no, he goes to someone older and wiser to figure out what this actually means. And he and Yoda are forced to conclude that the unthinkable - a trusted person among them somehow had reason to erase information from the archive - must nonetheless be what happened. This is honestly an exception that proves the rule: Kamino, and we can assume only Kamino, is missing from the archive only because it was removed, which is so suspicious it just shows he must be on the right track to discovering something. Jocasta is kind of snooty about it but theirs obviously is supposed to be one of the most accurate and complete databases in the galaxy.

6. Obi-Wan doesn't believe what Dooku tells him about the Senate.

For one thing, in this conversation Dooku's lying about basically everything but this. And I can't ever stress enough that Palpatine is a threat unlike anything the Jedi have ever dealt with before, who's already taken control of so much before they even know they're fighting anything, so the idea that a Sith is controlling the Senate would be really hard for anyone to believe.

Still, we know Obi-Wan reports this to the Council anyway. But it's a vague statement and they still don't have any information to act on. Palpatine soon has them very busy putting out fires in the war, and naturally fighting the Separatists who are led by Sith seems the best way for them to get to the bottom of what exactly is going on with the dark side. And they do finally turn their attention to how power-hungry Palpatine is getting once the war is nearly over and they've got the bandwidth for it, and think about what they might have to do if he's the threat to their democracy they fear, but of course he's too many steps ahead of them all the time.

---

So basically, what we see the Jedi being so guilty of in these examples are thought crimes. When confronted with the crazy explanation that happens to be true, their instinctive reaction is "No, I don't think that's possible." And then they do their due diligence to uncover as much of the truth as they can anyway. And Yoda, the Grand Master of them all, is often the first to admit that their first assumptions could be wrong. But Palpatine wouldn't be a good villain if his moves were predictable and he couldn't get an advantage over the good guys - that's just how storytelling works sometimes and it's not that deep.

It honestly felt stupid typing so much of this out because it's 90% just describing what actually happens in these scenes. But I guess it's a lot to ask that people actually carefully watch the films they discuss. 😒

[evilminji]

You know what idea has always ENCHANTED ME?

Ever since I saw it on a sci-fi show?

The Deadly Magical House That Loves You™. See, it's a house that has become something MORE. Gained sentience. And? Instead of acting out some cheap horror movie jump scares? It digs deep to its foundations, thinks long n hard, and decides on what it WANTS.

And it WANTS?

To be a HOME™.

To TAKE CARE OF somebody. Have LIFE in its halls. Meals at its tables. Joy and laughter bouncing across its walls. So? It lays a trap. Lures people in.

Come live in me~

I am a good home.

I am Free! I am "Safe". I will give you whatever your heart desires.

I care not for morality or laws. Boundaries or taboos. Do you desire? Come, come, be HAPPY~! Live in me! Relax here! Forget about the world beyond these walls. Anything I can not give you, I can bring TOO you! This is a Happy Home.

But, of course, such sentience and pushiness terrifies. People run and flee in horror. The house getting more aggressive. Trying to hold tighter. After all! If they would just STAY for a while, they would SEE! It's so LOVELY here! The would LOVE to live inside them!

But... instead?

They are hurt.

Doors smashed open. Windows broken to escape. Furniture thrown. Their avatar, Jeeves, bashed with heavy things. Why... WHY?! They are only trying to HELP! To LOVE them! Be a good HOME! They grow more and more run down. Starved. Wrathful.

It is, of course, their Obsession. To be a home. They are so very hungry.

When? Who should come along?

But the depressed AF Ghost King! He's been... not TECHNICALLY kicked out. But "things are tense" kicked out. He's tired. His college courses are remote. He can't really AFFORD rent. And everything is just...

He's TIRED.

He wants to cry.

Why... why can't he have ONE good thing? ONE sign everything's gonna be alright?

"Free House!"

Well... I mean... that IS a literal sign. Huh. He flies down. The house notices him. Tries to look as enticing as it can. And? Gasp! I... It's WORKING? This one seems INTERESTED? Quick! Flowerbeds! Look at my flowerbeds! Ooooh, lovely floooowers! A.. and there's probably really nice wood flooring! C'mon. C'moooon!

Danny? Sees a free Lair. Not too far from both Gotham AND Metropolis. Good location. Needs a little fixing up. But I mean... you can't beat free, right?

Is he really gonna do this?

......fuck it. Yeah, let's do this. First house time. He's just glad he carries a sharpie on him most of the time. Scribbles "Sold!" Over the sign then calls Jazz. He's... kinda not sure WHAT he's supposed to pack?

Finds out, post move in, whoop. Sentient Lair. Clingy, clingy, highly desperate sentient Lair. Oof. Guess fixing up the place can be therapy for both of us. Jazz helps.

The house heals. He falls into a routine. Schoolwork, hang out in the garden or the observatory, meals FaceTiming friends or watching videos, naps whenever he wants them. It's... it's so peaceful. Quiet and soothing to his agitated and worn down soul. Like a balm.

House gets him whatever he needs. They're kinda awesome like that. Always seems to have room to fit this or that. He doesn't question it. His brain figuring it works on Zone logic.

He probably SHOULD have.

Because? Things have been going missing. At a slow, steady, pace. Food, technology, entertainment. A building that shouldn't BE there, has been spotted in a wealthy county just outside of Superman and Batman's two cities.

No one can get near it.

It's been getting BIGGER.

Growing, like a tumor, room by room. Floor by floor. The gardens creeping like kudzu, to swallow everything in their path. Yet delivery drivers drop things off. Things they don't remember. On trips they don't recall. People are scared.

Amateur detectives have managed to discover some sort of starlit fae that lives there, along with a human boy.

Justice League Dark has been called in. Are currently standing just outside the slowly creeping property line. A garden statue just hissed at them. The trees are trying to throw acorns. A hushed argument has already broken out. How do they contain the house?

@the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @hypewinter @hdgnj @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @spidori @lolottes

[unclewaynemunson]

If there is one thing Eddie Munson is good at, it's hyperfixating. He can spend hours upon hours wholly entranced by whatever it is that has his attention, whether it's a newly discovered band or a book series he's reading or some random new interest he likes to immerse himself in. It's something Steve, who himself has the attention span of a goldfish, will never really understand, but that's okay: even without understanding it, it's one of the things he loves about Eddie.

Some of Eddie's obsessions fade just as quickly as they appear, but others stay with him for years. So when he reaches a 1000-day streak on Duolingo learning Elvish, Steve has a surprise for him: two tickets for a Lord of the Rings convention in Chicago. The second ticket is not for Steve – they enjoy their own separate interests just fine without the other's involvement – but for Dustin, and the two of them wave goodbye to Steve with a suitcase filled with nerdy costumes and matching excited sparks in their eyes.

Eddie returns a few days later filled with stories about all that he and Dustin got up to.

'Guess who we met at the convention,' is one of the first things he tells Steve. He's bouncing around with excitement, too impatient to even wait for Steve's first guess. 'The guy who created the Elvish Duolingo course! And guess what? He lives in Indianapolis! I'm having lunch with him next week!'

And it's cool, Steve is happy that Eddie met his hero and made a new nerd friend out of him, he truly is – until Eddie shows him the picture that Dustin took of the two of them.

Here's the thing: Steve is not a jealous person. Not at all. He knows that jealousy is a gross thing to feel and he can't even imagine not trusting Eddie. But... he had not expected Eddie's lame nerd idol to have amazing hair, a lip piercing, and muscles in all the right places. The guy looks like a freaking model. And usually, that wouldn't bother Steve – he knows he's not exactly ugly himself – but usually he doesn't have to compete with guys who speak Elvish fluently.

'You should come with me, we can all hang out together,' Eddie suggests. 'I'm sure you'll love him.'

Steve is hesitant about it, but Eddie refuses to take no for an answer, and that's how Steve ends up at Vikram's house for lunch two weeks later.

Eddie gasps loudly when Vikram leads them into his living room, clutching a dramatic hand to his chest in true Eddie fashion. Steve knows it's not all theatrics, though: there's no way a room like this wouldn't genuinely impress Eddie. It's dark and filled with big leather furniture. Framed posters for various metal bands and horror movies hang on the walls. There are shelves filled with big fantasy books, and every corner of the room has a display cabinet filled with what seem to be collectors' items for various series.

If Steve had been hoping for Vikram to look more like a stereotypical nerd in real life, he would be severely disappointed: the guy looks amazing in a leather jacket that would fit perfectly in Eddie's own collection and black skinny jeans that show off a truly amazing pair of legs, making Steve feel oddly self-conscious about the couple of pounds he gained since he left his high school sports days behind him.

While they're having lunch – Vikram bakes his own bread and it's so good that Steve doesn't think he can ever stop eating – Eddie and Vikram enthusiastically talk each other's heads off about all things Tolkien. Steve, on the other hand, grows more quiet as time passes, not really following along and sure as hell not able to give any contributions to the topic at hand.

'Did you ever try to learn some Sindarin as well, Steve? Or are you more of a Quenya guy?' Vikram asks him in what is no doubt a well-meant attempt to include Steve in the conversation.

Steve hastily swallows a big mouthful of bread and feels his cheeks heat up.

'I never read those books,' he sheepishly confesses.

'Oh!' Vikram's eyes widen and Steve can practically see him think: You never bothered to show any interest in one of your boyfriend's favorite things?

'Well, I mean, I tried,' Steve rushes to explain himself. 'But I um, I couldn't really keep my attention to it. They're a bit difficult to read. For me.' Somehow, explaining it only makes him feel worse about it.

'Oh, yeah, I get it, man. Those books aren't for everyone.'

There is no meanness or hidden insult behind his words. But Steve only feels more like an outsider while Eddie asks Vikram some incomprehensible question that has Vikram giving an in-depth explanation about the difference between two words that literally sound the same to Steve's ears. And when Eddie laughs about a joke that goes way over Steve's head, then says something in that stupidly beautiful nerd language which prompts a laugh from Vikram in return, Steve is reminded in full force how ugly of an emotion jealousy is.

They say goodbye – Eddie says something in Elvish again and Steve has to watch Vikram laugh a joyous laugh about it again – and Steve is quiet during the drive back home.

'Is something wrong?' Eddie asks when they're home, perceptive as always.

'No,' Steve lies.

'Stevie, c'mon.' Eddie studies Steve's face intently, a frown between his eyebrows just barely hidden by his bangs. 'What's going on?' Something in his expression shifts. 'Wait. You didn't like Vikram, did you? Did you hate him?'

'No, I didn't hate him!' Steve is quick to say. 'He's awesome, Eddie, he's perfect and smart and funny and perfect.'

Eddie narrows his eyes like Steve said something weird.

'Why did you say he's perfect twice?'

Steve huffs and runs a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. 'Just drop it, Eddie.'

'No, I'm not dropping it.' Eddie crosses his arms. 'What are you not telling me?'

Steve sighs. 'Okay, I didn't want to bother you with this, because it's my problem and not yours, and jealousy is an ugly emotion, but–'

'You're jealous of Vikram?'

'I mean, he's like, super hot, and he has this cool house, and he loves the same things as you, and you can speak your cool nerd language with him, while I'm too dumb to even read your cool nerd books and–'

'Steve,' Eddie interrupts him. 'You have no reason to be jealous.'

'I just...' Steve pauses, pinches the bridge of his nose. He finally manages to voice the thought that has been eating at him ever since he met Vikram. 'I don't want you to wake up someday and wish that you were with someone as smart as you are.'

The way Eddie's breath catches is barely noticeable. Then, he reaches out and gently places his hands on Steve's shoulders.

'I am with someone as smart as I am,' he says softly.

Steve scoffs.

'No, it's true,' Eddie presses on. 'Okay, so you don't enjoy reading Tolkien, and you don't speak Elvish. I don't care about that, man. I love the way you think. I love your inexhaustible knowledge of weird sports facts. I love how precise you are about weighing ingredients when you're baking something. I love your through-the-roof emotional and social intelligence.' He lifts one hand off of Steve's shoulder to pet his head, almost as if he's some kind of animal. 'You got a pretty big brain in there, no matter what you tell yourself, Stevie. And that's why I love you, more than anyone who speaks Elvish fluently.'

Steve tugs Eddie closer until their bodies are pressed against each other, his arms around Eddie's waist and his head resting on Eddie's shoulder.

'I don't think anyone has ever called me smart before,' he quietly admits.

'Well, I'll do it more often, then,' Eddie replies. 'Cause you are.'

(I wrote this because @undreaming-rambles has reached the unbelievable milestone of a 1000-day duolingo strike today. obviously that called for a silly fanfic celebration moment, congrats on your incredible perseverance aneta 💖 and credit where credit is due: this one was inspired by an episode of my beloved comfort show brooklyn 99)

[sturnioz]

fratboy!chris still doesn't fuck with the relationship labels — but that doesn't stop him from showing everyone that shy!reader is his.

it's supposed to be another fun frat party — overflowing with music, alcohol, drugs, and money. chris should be having the time of his fucking life, but without you tucked into his side as you usually are, he's not having fun at all.

he's restless; his leg bounces continually, and his jaw clenches as he grinds his teeth together, watching you across the room, engrossed in conversation with one of his frat brothers.

it was an unusual sight — seeing shy, little you animatedly chatting with someone other than him. but since you discovered that this particular frat boy shared the same interests as you, it was clear that you found a new friend... and chris hated that.

his irritation bubbles beneath the surface, prodding his tongue against his cheek, a humourless laugh escaping him as he shakes his head in disbelief each time he catches a glimpse of your excitement; the way your eyes light up as you gush about something you're interested in, and how his frat brother nods along with a grin.

"what's up with you?" nate asks, clamping his hand on chris' shoulder from behind, voice laced with curiosity. chris shrugs him off, irritation flashing deeper across his face and nate scoffs, glancing over at matt who has been lounging beside him this entire time. "what the fuck has gotten into him?"

matt takes a slow hit from his joint and lazily nods his head over in your direction. nate follows his gaze, a low sound of understanding rumbling from his chest.

"as much as i would love f'you both to rock someone's shit tonight, that kid is harmless — literally. don't think he even knows what a fuckin' pussy looks like—"

chris isn't listening, not when there's a loud ringing in his ears, drowning out nate's voice as he watches his frat brother lay a hand on your arm, gently guiding you from a group of rowdy drunk people who stumble by. it was a simple and kind gesture, but the sight of another guy touching you twists something deep inside him, chris see's red.

chris pushes himself up from the couch, his heart thumping rapidly in his chest, nostrils flaring as he beelines straight for you, shoving through the crowds of sweaty bodies, ignoring the ones that try and get his attention. he's behind you in seconds, looming like a shadow, breathing down your neck as he fixes his glare on his frat brother, who raises an eyebrow at chris' sudden appearance.

"oh, hey—"

"leave."

the guy gapes, startled by the raw intensity of chris' voice. "wait, wha—"

"did i fuckin' stutter or somethin'? do you... do you wan' me to say it louder f'you?" chris asks as he leans in closer, his chest pushed against your shoulder, eyes narrow into a dangerous glare. "fuckin'. leave. now... or d'you wan' me to make you?"

the challenge hung in the air, thick with tension, and chris' jaw remains set tight; muscles coiled like a spring. he doesn't even flinch when you spin around to face him, your own eyes wide at the sudden possibility of a fight happening.

panic surges through you as you shake your head quickly, curling your fists around the front of his shirt, desperation lacing your voice as you plead his name.

but he pays no mind — his focussed lock on his frat brother, who mutters an apology before hastily retreating elsewhere, the fear evident in his expression. chris watches him leave, the intensity in his gaze unwavering.

when his eyes finally flit to you, his tongue prods at his cheek, eyebrows furrowing in frustration. you can see the storm brewing within him and your heart races, clinging to him with wide and frantic eyes, searching for reassurance.

"chris..." you breathe out his name, your voice trembling with concern. "you.. why would you—"

but before you can finish, he steps closer, his hand gripping the back of your neck, pulling you forward with a force that takes your breath away. his lips crash against yours, hard and demanding, and you gasp against his mouth, arms frozen at your sides, eyes wide in surprise.

it probably wasn't the most please sight from a outsiders perspective — him fierce and harsh, you bewildered and unmoving. but this was the second time he's kissed you during your complicated relationship... if you could even call it that.

the feeling of his tongue sliding into your mouth is what finally brings you back to reality. you instinctively go to reciprocate the kiss, your heart warming at the thought of having his lips on yours for longer than just a few fleeting seconds. but, of course, your hopes are shattered when he pulls away from you, leaving you breathless.

his hand, which had rested on the back of your neck, now slides around to grip your jaw, holding you in place as he stares at you.

"don't look too pleased, kid," chris murmurs, a smirk playing on his lips as he pats your cheek. "jus' lettin' everyone know who you belong to, yeah?"

© STURNIOZ

[svtswhorehouse]

GYM CRUSH! JIHOON — nsfw

gym crush! jihoon who you discover only ever works out in the a.m after restless nights of tossing and turning in bed and deciding to go to the gym instead.

gym crush! jihoon who you have your eye on as soon as you walk in, wondering who the hell he is and why is he the most attractive man you’ve ever seen.

gym crush! jihoon who keeps to himself and constantly has his headphones in.

gym crush! jihoon who you end up risking your sleep schedule for just to go ogle at him in the late hours of the night.

gym crush! jihoon who realizes that you’re constantly checking him out, but never calls you out on it.

gym crush! jihoon who just WON'T look at you and it's driving you so crazy that at one point you considered that maybe he shoots for the other team.

gym crush! jihoon who FINALLY gives you attention after he notices that you were struggling to change out weights on a machine and offers to do it for you.

gym crush! jihoon who asks if you need someone to spot you which you graciously take up because who are you to decline the very man you've had your eye set on for weeks.

gym crush! jihoon who rests his hand on your lower back and stands behind you, giving you advice with a voice of authority while you do your sets.

gym crush! jihoon who you go home and fantasize about later that night as your hand slowly creeps down your pants.

gym crush! jihoon who slowly becomes your gym buddy, seeing as you're the only person he for some reason does not mind interrupting his workouts. (plus he thinks you're really helpful when it comes to pushups because he always asks you to sit on his back.)

gym crush! jihoon who enjoys spotting you when you do squats the most !!!! (you're oblivious and think he's really just trying to help, but no. he just wants an excuse to look at your ass.)

gym crush! jihoon who texts you one random night at two in the morning asking if you want to meet him at the gym. (the answer is obviously yes.)

gym crush! jihoon who shows up not long after you do and realizes that the only people there are you and him. (+the workers that are somewhere off doing whatever, but who cares about them anyways.)

gym crush! jihoon who notices your workout attire right off the bat — a low-cut sports bra that accentuates your tits and spandex shorts that make your ass pop.

gym crush! jihoon who says that he'll spot you first and is quick to say squats when you ask him what you should start with.

gym crush! jihoon who's eyes never leave your ass while you're doing your sets and this time he's not so slick about it because you can see him in the mirror.

gym crush! jihoon who KNOWS you can see him, but has no shame about it as he licks his lips and sometimes meets your eyes in the reflection.

gym crush! jihoon who at the end of both of your workouts looks so irresistible after that you can't help but crash your lips against his, hungry and eager to have a taste.

gym crush! jihoon who was glad that you were thinking the same exact thing as him and kisses back almost instantly, placing his hand on your cheek.

gym crush! jihoon who you can't help but resist the urge to lick his abs when he pulls his shirt off.

gym crush! jihoon who doesn't even bother removing your sports bra and instead pulls it down so your tits pop out and he can hold you close to litter them in hickeys.

gym crush! jihoon who keeps your underwear as a souvenir after he’s done with you and you have no other choice but to leave with a wet patch on your shorts as his cum drips out of you.

gym crush! jihoon who bends you over the nearest piece of gym equipment to take you from behind.

gym crush! jihoon who puts you in a headlock and you can’t help but moan in pleasure at the feeling of his big beefy arms wrapped firmly around your neck (ughhhhh i want.)

gym crush! jihoon who mutters the FILTHIEST words of degradation in your ear, telling you how pathetic you are for letting him fuck you out in the open and how you were probably planning this all along.

gym crush! jihoon who admires the way your arousal drips from your cunt and onto the leather of the gym equipment.

gym crush! jihoon who stuffs his fingers in your mouth for you to suck on when you get a lil too loud.

gym crush! jihoon who you get in the routine of fucking every single time to end your workouts now.

gym crush! jihoon who one day decided to spice things up and make you do your sets while a vibrator is inside of you (turns out it wasn’t a good idea when you almost dropped the weight on his foot 😭)

gym crush! jihoon who gets bored of his workouts one day and decides to see how much stamina he has instead (man can go for ROUNDS, but u can’t :’) you would definitely get overstimulated.

gym crush! jihoon who eventually asks you out for a proper date after months of just working out and fucking.

[binniesbooks]

heyyy! absolutely loved your 100 followers special fic like it was so insanely good!!!

please can i request a bsf!beomgyu fic where he discovers through porn that women can squirt and during your next hangout he asks you about it and when you tell him you can he gets all excited and asks you to show him. this then ends in him fucking you till you squirt on his dick multiple times. can you make both beomgyu and the reader a switch if you don’t mind and only if you’re comfortable tho :) the beomgyu brain rot is getting to me 😭

• IS IT TRUE?

BG 001 .F23 2024

wc 3.6k

pairings bestfriend!Beomgyu x fem!reader

warnings switch reader x switch Gyu, mutual pining, porn watching, caught self relieving, oral sex (m. receiving), slight flood play, kissing, marking, unprotected sex, pull out method, squirting, mentions of hair pulling and scratching if you squint (+ anything I've missed)

faye's note I tried my best to make a great plot, I really did! I hope it worked. To the anon who requested this one, I'm sorry it took me so long, I was procrastinating, LMAO. SORRY 😭

"Beomgyu-" The nasty moans and lewd sounds coming from the computer were abruptly stopped when Beomgyu slammed his laptop shut. 

"What the fuck were you watching?" Yeonjun's brows creased as he stared at the younger awkwardly sitting on the bed, a pillow on his lap and a blanket covering his lower half.

"W-what?" Beomgyu stammered. 

Yeonjun's grin grew wider as his eyes scanned the room. A laptop that was forced shut, a box of tissues, a sweaty body in this air-conditioned room—what else was a guy to do, if not pleasure himself when alone?

"Damn, it looks like I've caught you at a bad time!" Yeonjun exclaimed, a faint chuckle rumbling within his chest. His teasing voice and giggles made Beomgyu blush.

"Okay, okay, I'll just talk to you later, take care of yourself first," Yeonjun said, throwing a knowing look and a teasing smile.

"H-hyung, hyung wait!" Beomgyu tried to stop Yeonjun, but the door was already shut. Besides, he can't just get up naked, can he?

He throws his head back against the pillow, groaning in embarrassment as he runs his palm against his face, muttering a frustrated "fuck" under his breath.

"So..." you started. "Why are you here again?"

"Can't a friend visit you? God, you're not as welcoming as before," Beomgyu barked, rolling his eyes as he threw the plastic bag full of snacks on the table and plopped down on your couch. And when he removes the hood of his jacket, he reveals the mess that was his hair underneath.

"I mean, you can, yeah. But... Do you know what time it is?" you replied, pulling your jacket against your body.

"3 o'clock," he answered.

"3 o'clock in what?"

"3 o'clock in the morning! But whatever!" he grunts, throwing a temper tantrum on the couch.

"Why are you here then?" you asked, sitting beside him.

"Just wanna see you. It's been a while," he muttered under his breath.

"You know you can't just drop by anytime, right?"

"I know, I know. I've just had trouble sleeping at night these past few days again," he sighed, leaning his head back on the couch.

"Am I your sleeping pill or something?" your brows raised and your voice teasing.

"What if I say that you're my medicine?" Beomgyu looked you straight in the eye. And there you are, embraced by his warm gaze, trapped inside the pretty door to his soul.

You leaned closer to him, planting a soft kiss on his cheek, running your fingers through his hair.

"Stay the night—or whatever you call the time now, I hope you have a good rest even if it's just for today." 

Beomgyu has been your friend since you were in your teenage years—typical. He shuts other girls off, as he only gives his attention to you. He doesn't want to be involved in any relationship of sort—that includes you, though. He may be your best friend, your best partner, but neither of you two admitted anything. Just two young hearts showing care and love towards each other. 

Some say you should date each other, which the two of you would only answer with a sheepish smile. Sometimes, he would drop by at your place, hang out with you, and enjoy the rest of his free time. You've been to his place a few times, but you insisted on him going to your place instead, since he's living with his friends. 

Often times, you'll share a kiss or two with him—anything but a kiss on the lips. He loves it when you sit on his lap while he plays at your computer, giving your shoulder a few bites and planting soft kisses. He loves cuddling you to sleep, draping his arm over your waist, pulling you closer to his chest, his warm breath fanning across your nape. 

Beomgyu could walk around your house half naked without you giving a fuck. He does anything as if it were his own home, and you don't mind at all. You're used to it, nothing new. 

Everything about this is pretty normal between the two of you. The kisses, the skinship, the hugs, the cuddles—anything that a 'just friends' friend won't normally do. Well, in your case, it was. 

"Can you come closer? I need to feel your warmth," Beomgyu pleaded, unzipping his jacket.

"Gyu, how much closer do you need me to be? Should I just sew my skin onto yours?" you chuckled as you shifted on the bed, scooting closer to him.

"I missed you. I missed holding you in my arms." he mumbles as he hugs you tight. 

"You're such a baby, Gyu. Do you know that?" you complained, burying your face in his chest, hugging him closer.

A few minutes had passed, yet Beomgyu was still awake. Busying himself with combing his fingers through your hair as he watches you peacefully sleep. 

His fingers traced the outline of your face. "I love you. I hope you know that," he whispered, planting a kiss to the top of your head before he shuts his eyes.

You woke up with heavy limbs draped upon your body. Beomgyu may have mistaken you for a pillow.

"Gyu... Gyu, you're so heavy, move over." Your voice cracked as you gasped for air.

"Gyu, what the hell, scoot over," you grunt again, trying to push him, but his body is far too big for you to push on your own.

"Choi Beomgyu!" You shouted.

Beomgyu squirmed. And instead of getting himself off of you, he pulled you even closer.

"What's your deal?" You frowned, trying to push him away.

Beomgyu grunts as he hides in your neck, rolling over, causing the two of you to crash down onto the floor. 

But instead of getting angry at him, your frown turned into a fit of laughter as you saw him wince and massage the back of his head and his buttocks.

"Did you have a good sleep?" you asked, stirring a cup of coffee.

"Mhm, I did, thank you. I'll get going now, the boys might already be looking for me," Beomgyu said as he pulled you in for a hug.

"You're not gonna eat breakfast here?"

His tall figure towers over you as he pinches your cheeks, "I'll do it next time. Let's have breakfast together next time, okay? Eat the snacks I brought earlier and take care of yourself." You watched him step out, closing the door behind him. 

It hadn't even been a whole 24 hours when he came back to your place.

"I wanna watch a movie; the guys are boring to be with!" he frowns, feigning frustration--- He actually never asked them to do so. Just a reason for him to drop by your place again.

"Bring the ice cream from the freezer, then," you said as you prepared the couch, bringing some soft pillows and a fuzzy blanket. 

You actually have no idea what the movie was all about. You even missed the title because you went to the restroom last minute. The only thing you know is that it's a 18+ rated movie. Well, it's not your first time watching something like this with Beomgyu, you've watched multiple movies that aren't child friendly. 

Plus, the fact that the two of you could even talk about anything sexual as if you're just talking about food and any other light topics makes this normal. Although sexually wise, neither one of you has experience. Considering that you both shut people away as if your world only revolves around each other.

And although this isn't the first time you're watching something like this with Beomgyu, it is the first time you saw him shove a pillow over his lap. It is the first time he's trying his best to avoid any skin contact with you. 

"Is everything okay? You're so distant," you commented, licking a spoonful of ice cream.

"Actually... There's.. there's something I want to ask," he started, turning his body to face you.

"That is?"

"That.. I.. Uhm, I just watched this from... You know..."

"Porn?" you bluntly answered.

"Y-yeah. And uh, is it true?"

"What's true? Geez, say it straight, Gyu," you rolled your eyes as you dug another spoonful of ice cream.

"Let me finish my sentence!" he pouts, making you chuckle. Beomgyu wasn't normally nervous around you, this is the first time.

"Is is true.. that.. girls can.. uhm.. the liquid... Like.." he continued stammering.

You looked at him straight in the eye and said, "That girls squirt?" Beomgyu nodded frantically as he tried to avert his gaze.

"It's more common than you think, Gyu," you answered as you returned your gaze to the movie. However, you're shocked about what's already happening on the TV. It was a fucking sex scene! Obscene sounds are coming from the speakers resonating in your living room. You gulped and shifted nervously.

"S-so you mean, you can do it?" Beomgyu dug his fingers into the pillow, his face painted with embarrassment and anticipation at the same time.

"Well..."

"Can you show it to me?" he said, cutting you off.

"W-what?" You looked at him in surprise. Why would a friend ask something like that?

"I.. I mean. I mean... Like..." he tried finding an appropriate approach.

"Are you initiating something, Choi Beomgyu?" You turned your whole body towards him. He bit his lower lip, his adams apple bobbed up and down as he gulped, swallowing the same embarrassment and sexual frustration.

"If... If you want to... I... I wanna see it.. I wanna see you," he whispered, his lips already red and swollen from how hard he was biting them. 

You weighed the pros and cons in your mind first. But, yeah, who cares? You're attracted to him anyway! It's a win-win situation, right?

"I swear, if you tell a single soul about this," you warned before straddling him, grabbing his shirt, and crashing your lips on his.

He forcefully pulled the pillow from his lap away, causing you to stumble a little, desperate to feel you even in the tiniest bit. His hands landed on your waist, trying to push you down on his lap.

You pulled away, "Stop. Hands off."

He stared at you with big puppy eyes and a pout, "Y/n," he whines. 

"Keep your hands off me if you want to know if it's true." Beomgyu placed his hand on his side. Trying his best not to touch you, gripping the fuzzy blanket instead, veins popping on his neck as he threw his head back. What a good day to wear sweats, he could fully feel you, and you could fully feel him hardening each second. 

Beomgyu used to order you around. He's a bit bitchy and bossy. Yet he's being pliant today. So you were enjoying this, watching him crumble under you, doing anything you were saying.

You moved your hips again, making him emit a desperate moan. Calling your name like the sex-deprived man he is, "P-please... Please it hurts..." he whines again, tears threatening to spill, nails almost tearing your blanket apart. Yet you grind again, teasing him some more. "If you cum too early, you'll end up not knowing whether it's true," you taunt. So he bucks his hips up, along with loud moans and whimpers, drowning the long forgotten movie in the background, too desperate and stimulated.

"M-more..." he whispered under his breath, almost unheard if you didn't pay attention, not wanting to get ahead of himself. 

You stopped your movement, making him groan and gasp. But blush crept up his pretty face when you moved down between his legs, spreading them open, kissing the tent on his sweats. He drapes his arm on his face as he throws his head back. He didn't know this would happen. He only asked if you could show him how you squirt, but he didn't expect for you to give him more.

"Y/n," he muttered, his hand muffling his mouth, "I-if you don't f-feel like it, you d-don't have to do this...."

"You don't want this, Gyu?" He looked down at you, only to throw his head back again when he saw you pouting with big round eyes. 

"Fuck..." He sighed, "Can I at least hold your head?"

And you let him. You let him tangle his fingers on your hair, but he's not allowed to push you down. You let him grip on your hair, but he's not allowed to pull you back.

As you pulled his sweats down, he tried his best to look at you. But he would end up closing his eyes because he can't look at you straight in the eye. 

"I won't give you a head if you don't look at me," you giggled, making him whine for the nth time.

And so he tried his best to maintain eye contact. Even when he's struggling to keep his eyes open because it feels too good. Even when he could only gasp because you're doing your best to take him whole in your mouth. He heard you gag over and over, yet he can only tangle his fingers in your hair gripping it. He wants to push you down, to fuck your pretty little mouth, to cum already, but he's waiting for your signal. He wants to be a good boy for you. He wants to be good. He wants you to praise him. He wants you to shower him with kisses later on because he was obliging to your commands.

And an idea came to your mind. You scooped out some of the melted ice cream and let it drip on his fully erect and wet cock. Beomgyu whimpers at the cold sensation.

"T-that's... Ahhh..." His voice was too shaky as he tried to form a sentence. Which he wasn't very successful in doing.

You carefully licked the melted ice cream, pushing your tongue on his slit.

"Y/n, c-can I cum? It.. ahh.. it hurts s-so much, p-please," he pleaded, drool rolling down from the corner of his lips, crying.

"Since you're too pretty, sure," you smiled sweetly, full of innocence. He lets go of your hair, placing them down on the couch, clutching on the blanket again. With one thrust in your mouth, he came undone, shooting spurts of sticky white cum inside your mouth. 

Beomgyu tried catching his breath as he looked down at you. He reached for your face, pressing on each side to make you open it. He watched your tongue swirl around the pool of his cum. Beomgyu pressed his thumb on your tongue, playing with his cum. "Swallow."

With a single command, you quickly obliged, swallowing the mix of sweet and salty taste from his cum and the ice cream. This time you felt so little under him as you sat on the floor between his legs. You opened your mouth for him to check. "Good girl," he smiled as he pulled you up, making you straddle him again.

"Did you enjoy your time ordering me around, baby?" He asked, tucking your hair behind your ear. You smiled at him, nodding with a wide grin.

His hand ran lower to your chest, touching your breast, causing you to bite your lower lip. 

"Tell me, why aren't you wearing a bra, hm?" He stared at you straight in the eye, raising his eyebrow, looking for a proper answer.

"I didn't know you were gonna drop by again," you pout.

"I see," he said, pinching your nipple.

"G-gyu..." you whimpered.

"Hm?" You looked away, clutching at the hem of your shirt. 

Beomgyu rolls your nipples against his finger again, making you quiver.

"G-gyu!" You moaned, holding his wrist. 

"What is it? Are you lost?" he chuckled, pulling your nipple.

"Ahh! Shit! Mhhmp!" you collapsed above him, hiding in his neck, whimpering and whining over and over again. You heard him let out a hearty chuckle again before wrapping his arms around your waist. 

"Too much?" he asked, and you nodded as an answer. "Okay, okay, I won't do it again, remove your pajama," he whispered.

You get off of him to discard your silk pajama, before repositioning yourself on top of him again. He kissed your forehead and played a little with the band of your panties.

Aligning his tip on your clothed pussy, he tried thrusting, teasing you, and smirking at how you squirm and pout at the stimulation.

Yet when he pushed your panties to the side, he saw the sticky wetness on the cloth from your hole. "So you're ordering me around while you're being wet like this, am I right?" he grinned.

He started teasing your pussy, pushing his red tip and letting it slide away. "Aww, too bad, I think it won't fit," he pouts, still teasing you. You whined back, wanting to feel him bare.

He teased you more and more. Until you couldn't take it anymore as you rose to your knees and aligned him against your hole, forcing your way down. You ended up collapsing in his arms again. Not prepared at all as you felt a burning pain from the stretch of his fat cock.

"God fucking damn it, don't do that again, you'll end up hurting yourself," Beomgyu winces as he tries to soothe you by combing your hair and kissing your face.

"No matter how desperate you want to feel me, don't do that again, okay? I haven't even properly stretched you out yet," he whispered, rubbing your back.

"Come here," he pulled your face to give you a kiss. A kiss that washed the pain away. Tongues fighting, teeth clashing, saliva mixing. It was nasty, lewd, and filthy. Yet you love it, moaning at the feeling. Especially when Beomgyu started to thrust his hips up, slowly training you with his size. 

His lips traveled down to your neck, leaving splotchy red marks and wet open-mouthed kisses in his wake. His hand fully grasped your breasts, slowly massaging them, occasionally rolling your nipples beneath his fingers, enjoying the way you moan his name in his ear as you catch your breath. 

Then he pulled away, holding your waist as he started his precise and delicious thrusts. 

"Deep?" he asked, tilting his head to the side with a grin. You nodded, both of your hands on his chest to keep your balance.

"How deep?" he smirked.

"H-here," you managed, pulling his hand and letting him press on your abdomen. You whimpered when he pressed harder, making you feel every curve and vein of his cock.

"Will you show me how you squirt? How did you find out you can?" he bombed you with questions, still maintaining his pace in thrusting inside your gummy walls.

"W-will show you G-gyu, will do... I ..ahh.. f-found out... One time when I t-touched myself," you started. "W-when you c-called me.. mmmph! W-with your morning voi....voice."

"You're touching yourself to my voice? Fuck, how desperate are you?" he scoffed, thrusting harder.

"W-wait! Ahh! Too m-much! Gyu!" You hid on his neck again, feeling so little and inferior. 

"I-it was only one time! I.. I never did it again!" You managed to squeak out, voice muffled on his neck.

"Then let's make you squirt again, yeah?" he sneered, pulling you back by your hair as you groan at the pleasuring pain spreading through your scalp.

He lifted you up for a bit, and he started fucking your hole with a faster and rougher pace. "Squirt on my cock, squirt on my cock." He kept on repeating it over gritted teeth, adding force to every thrust.

"G-gyu, w-wait, I'm gonna cum--" Clear liquid came out gushing from your hole, pushing his cock out along with your creamy cum, soiling your couch.

"Fuck.. do it again!" His grin grew wider as he lifted you up again and thrusted even harder with greater force.

"Gyu! Gyu! Beomgyu!" You chanted his name over and over again, your toes curled and your stomach twisted at the overstimulation. Yet he kept on fucking into you.

And again, you let out a gush of clear liquid. Whole body spasming above Beomgyu. His cock twitches as he pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek. 

"T-this is dirty G-gyu," you muttered below your breath, body spent as you found support from his shoulder.

"No. I like it. This is fucking hot. Makes me wanna fuck you more," he laughs.

You eyes flicker across the room. The couch, the blanket, and the pillows were wet. The chocolate-flavored ice cream smeared on his pants.

Beomgyu slowly slides himself inside you again, thrusting more precisely, wanting to cum inside you this time. He buried his face in your neck as he pushed your hips down. 

"F-fuck! Wanna fill you up!" 

"P-pull out, Gyu! Please!" you pleaded, clawing his back.

Beomgyu pulls out. Hissing through his teeth, he pumped his cock a few times and ended up cumming on your tummy. 

"Fuck," he pants, leaning back on the couch and pulling you to his chest. 

You heard how his heart thumped so hard and how his breathing was so ragged. You buried your face in his neck, allowing your heart to calm down. And realization settled in. You just had sex with your best friend.

"If you won't still ask me to date you after today, I'll ask Kai out, I know he likes me." You muttered, feigning nonchalance.

"What the fuck? Do you want me to tell them how good I made you feel?" he taunts, tangling his fingers in your hair as he gives it a little pull, making you moan.

"See? Only I am allowed to see you like this, to make you so spent like this, understood?" he frowns.

"Only if you date me," you said as you latched your lips on his neck, leaving a mark of ownership.

"Fuck," he scoffed, touching the part where you left a mark when you pulled away. 

@binniesbooks 2024

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Better, Hidden Half

Requested Here!

Part 2 Here >

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader (takes place in The Rookie 1x20-2x1)

Summary: Tim doesn't tell just anyone that he's married. When he's quarantined and his life is threatened by a fatal virus, he asks Lucy to call you, and ends up showing everyone what you mean to him.

Warnings: angst, fluffy comfort at the end, spoilers for episodes 1x20 and 2x1 (this is basically a rewrite, but still includes a brief reference to the suicide line from Tim). reader stress cleans?

A/N: The anxiety/stress cleaning bit is completely self-indulgent; sorry. I tried to manipulate Tim's conversations with Lucy to make them sound more platonic (I don't know if it worked though). I absolutely love this idea and had a ton of fun writing it!🤍

Word Count: 3.9k+ words

Tim Bradford is a man of few words, and he keeps his life separated into two distinct areas: work life and personal life. He tried to bring the two together once, but hated the constant worry that someone from his work life would threaten to hurt people in his personal life or worse, act on their threats. For that reason, for his family’s safety, Tim keeps his life separated, and only a choice few have been chosen to be trusted with a glimpse of both sides of Tim. Angela, Wade, and on occasion, Bishop, see a side of Tim that doesn't exist when he's at work.

✯✯✯✯✯

“How is she?” Angela asks, sitting beside Tim for roll call.

Tim rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “I trained her, I’m sure she did fine. Better than your golden boy boot, anyway.”

Angela smiles and leans in to whisper, “Didn’t mean Chen.” She turns her attention to Jackson, calling, “80 might be the passing grade, boot, but if you don’t get at least a 90, you should turn in your badge on general principle.”

Tim leans forward to add, “Officer Chen, I will take it as a personal insult if you get anything less than a 93.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy answers. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do with all your new free time? Might I suggest a book club?”

Angela elbows Tim under the table, and he glances at her quickly, giving her a displeased stare which only makes her work harder to hide her smile.

“What are you talking about?” Tim asks.

“You know, after I pass, there won’t be any more daily evaluations to write.”

“Whether I evaluate you daily or weekly, I will continue to judge you every minute. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

As Grey enters, Lucy turns to Nolan, who whispers, “I can’t believe he’s single.”

“Tell me about it,” Lucy replies, rolling her eyes. “Evaluating a wife daily would cut into his ‘man of honor’ time.”

They silence as Wade directs the TOs to only take easy calls while the rookies finish their last shift before their exams. When Tim assures that he follows direct orders, he keeps his eyes straight ahead, knowing that Angela and Bishop are ready to tease him the moment he looks in their direction.

✯✯✯✯✯

7-Adam-19, silent hold-up alarm activated at Madame Megan’s psychic shop. 2417 Vine. Code 3.

Tim and Lucy enter the back room, taking control of the situation quickly, and he dials in once again to being a cop. Not a family man or anything of the sort. Just a police officer.

As Lucy walks out, and the (fake) psychic hits on Tim, he can only think of one thing. Excusing himself from the room, with a lack of grace that is unlike him, Tim lets his mind wander for just a moment. He thinks of a promise he made, a vow he took, and then his focus is back on his new case, a missing person discovered by a phony Hollywood psychic.

✯✯✯✯✯

Miles away, you are trying to focus on work, though you find it much harder than Tim to simply push your family and your personal life from your mind at a moment’s notice. Fiddling with your necklace, you refrain from grabbing your phone, wanting to text the only person on your mind. Oblivious to the dangers Tim is learning about from the CDC and Homeland Security, you sigh and clench your hands into fists before attempting to focus again.

Before you make any progress on starting the project awaiting your attention, your phone rings. Tim’s name appears on your screen, and you rush to answer, dread filling you. He never calls while he’s working, and you immediately expect the worst. Surely if it were something terrible, Angela or Wade would call you. If Tim is calling, that means he is okay, he is alive.

“Hello?” you ask, releasing a sigh when Tim says your name.

“Are you alone?” he adds, his voice strained.

“Yes. What’s going on?”

“I need you to stay where you are or go straight home. There’s a terror cell with a biological weapon; we’re doing everything we can to find them, but I need to know you’re safe.”

“Tim- yeah, of course. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I- I really can’t say anything else. Not about what we’re doing. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all, okay?”

“I will. Be careful, Tim. I love you.”

“I love you.”

Your phone beeps as the call ends, and your hand finds your necklace again, one finger slipping into Tim’s wedding ring. He leaves it with you each morning, taking it back with gentle touches and loving kisses when he returns each night. Today, all you can do is trust that he is good at his job and that he will protect you and the rest of LA, and then come back to you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim and Lucy approach one of the possible address in the search for newly discovered members of the terror cell.

“Man. And here I thought that test was gonna be the hardest part of my day,” Lucy muses.

“Best case scenario, it’s tomorrow’s problem,” Tim points out. His thoughts, however, are stuck on you, especially when Lucy asks what the worst case is.

“Took you long enough,” the man, Peter Langston, says as he opens the door. “Bag’s in here.”

“Sir, we’re here about the bus you took from Phoenix,” Tim explains.

“No kidding. I called you about the bag.”

“And what bag is that?”

“I thought it was mine on the bus. I picked it up by accident.” Tim follows Langston into a bedroom as he continues, “Noticed as soon as I got home. Called right away. Still took you guys like six hours to get here.”

“Uh, sir, we’re not here about a bag.”

“So, you don’t have mine? My computer’s in there… I went through this one for an address, and all I found was some weird science equipment.”

Tim glances back at Lucy, who calls for the task force at the mention of ‘weird science equipment.’

“Sir, did you touch anything in there?” Tim asks, pulling gloves on.

“Yeah, I cut my finger going through it looking for an address. Some kind of broken vial.”

Tim’s eyes widen and his breath catches as the man raises his bloodied finger, adding that it hasn’t stopped bleeding since it was cut. Hemorrhaging, Tim knows.

“Everything okay in there?” Lucy calls.

“Yeah. Just stay out there,” Tim demands.

The man coughs, and Tim flinches as blood lands on his neck and up onto his jaw. Looking down at the blood on the man’s shirt, Tim’s mind forgets the divide between work and personal life. He takes the initiative to lock Lucy out, slamming the door on her to keep her safe, but his true concern is you. If something happens to him, who will look out for you? Who will be your shoulder to cry on? In a moment, as the reality of the situation dawns on him, Tim thinks like a husband, and he begins to regret keeping you, his wife, hidden for so long.

“Tim, no!” Lucy yells, but she steps forward too late.

Tim is on the other side of the door, a new division created as others are dissolved.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim finds baby wipes on a nearby changing table, wiping the blood from his skin as he lies to Langston, telling him it will be okay and distracting him with meaningless treatments to combat the “bad case of the flu the police were warned about this morning at roll call.”

Langston disappears into the bathroom in search of cold medicine, and Tim walks to the door to ask Lucy, “Everything all right out there, Chen?”

��Uh, yeah. The CDC’s on their way,” she responds. “Hey, you need to come out of there.”

“That’s not gonna happen. Got to keep this contained.”

“Tim-“

“It’s gonna be alright, boot.”

Tim knows that Lucy is concerned about him, and he is similarly concerned for her. He feels responsible for her safety as his rookie, but his thoughts toward her are completely and totally different from his fears concerning you, driven by love rather than mutual respect and duty.

“You keep your head in the game, okay?” Tim encourages Lucy. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

As Tim looks at the blood-covered wipe in his hand, he thinks of you, and how you’ll respond to the potential notification that he didn’t make it, taken from you by the very thing he tried to protect you from. He turns his attention back to the sick man feet away from him before his thoughts spiral. Tim needs you, so he needs to focus and survive.

✯✯✯✯✯

While the CDC is arriving at the house and quarantining Tim and the infected man, you are pacing in your shared bedroom. Memories of you and Tim exist in every inch of this house, and every moment that goes by without an update increases your worry. Walking into the closet, you find one of Tim’s recently worn shirts, changing into it before picking up the remote to distract yourself. With Tim’s pillow clutched to your chest, you try to laugh at the ridiculous sitcom on the screen, but it doesn’t work as well as you hoped.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Officer Chen, you want to tell me what happened?” Dr. Morgan asks, dressed in full hazmat gear as she enters.

“Yeah, uh, the bus passenger mistakenly grabbed the wrong bag, and the virus must have been in it because he coughed up blood on Tim,” Lucy explains.

“Did you get any blood on you?”

“Uh, no. I was out here. Tim immediately closed the door.”

“Smart man.”

Tim hears Dr. Morgan’s comment and clenches his jaw, knowing you would disagree entirely. At least in this case.

“Hey, doc,” Tim greets, standing against the door.

“How you doing?” Dr. Morgan inquires.

“Fine. But Mr. Langston’s struggling a little.”

“Can you describe his condition?”

“Yeah. He, uh, started coughing blood about 20 minutes ago. Now he’s got a pretty wicked nosebleed.”

“Why aren’t they coming in? Where’s my ambulance?” Langston asks.

“It’ll be here any minute. Just… stay put. Save your energy.”

Lucy interrupts to ask, “Where’s the vaccine?”

“Still in the air,” Dr. Morgan says. “Should land in the next hour or so.”

Scoffing, Lucy argues, “You can’t make Tim wait in there. He might not be infected.”

“Sorry. Quarantine rules exist for a reason.” Dr. Morgan turns to the door and asks Tim, “Officer Bradford, do you mind if I put you to work while you wait?”

“You want to know what’s in the bag?” Tim knows digging through the contents is dangerous, but waiting without doing anything won’t increase his chances of getting home to you.

“Yes, I do.”

“Copy that. Chen, I’m gonna turn on my body cam. You can monitor it from out there.”

“Okay. Please be careful,” she responds.

Tim hears your voice in his mind, telling him the same thing. He trusts himself to listen to you more than his rookie.

“All right. Here we go,” Tim says, using his baton to open the bag.

“Wait. Wait. What is that bottle?” Dr. Morgan wonders.

“Looks like the delivery device,” Tim guesses, raising it carefully from the bag. “It’s a misting fan.”

Dr. Morgan calls Homeland Security with the new information on how the terrorists are planning to spread the virus. As Tim continues searching the bag, failing to find identification or target information, Lucy sees Langston raising a chair in the mirror and yells for Tim just before he is knocked unconscious.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your house is as clean as it has ever been. Using your nervous energy and anxiety-fueled need to move, you clean each room in an attempt to keep your mind from worrying about Tim. You could call someone and ask for an update, but they probably can’t tell you anything. The only comfort you have is knowing that Angela and Wade would call you if you needed to know something. The silence is deafening, but it’s also a good sign.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim? Tim!” Lucy continues, growing concerned at the lack of reply.

Tim opens his eyes, moving backward quickly when he sees a puddle of blood running toward his face. He sees Langston standing across the room, mumbling about needing to get out as he tries to break the window. Tim tases him as he stands, and Lucy’s concerned yells continue. Covering his face with his shirt, Tim handcuffs Langston to the bed, shuffling backward as Lucy demands his answer.

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” he replies, breathing heavily. “Well, that was fun.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Tim chuckles. “Kind of depends on your definition of the word.”

While Lucy tells Dr. Morgan to get the vaccine, and the LAPD sends patrol units out to find the other terrorist, Tim keeps his eyes on Langston, but his mind is on you. He should ask someone to tell you and find a way to let you know what is going on, but part of him knows that you are separate from this for a reason. You’re likely worried enough without knowing that Tim’s chance of being infected rises with each moment.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim watches Langston die, unable to do anything as he begs for help and convulses. Imagining himself in Langston’s place, Tim decides that he has to do something. He can’t go out like that, he won’t, but more importantly, he can’t leave you wondering. If Tim dies today, he is not dying without talking to you one last time, showing everyone around him that you are the best part of him.

He leans against the door in silence until Lucy says, “Hey, I, uh- I just checked with Dr. Morgan. The vaccine’s minutes away.”

“You know, you’re good at a lot of things – lying isn’t one of them,” Tim replies.

“You think I’m good at things? Can I get that in writing? … How are you doing? Are there any symptoms yet?"

"I’m sweating like a pig. But it’s probably because it’s 100 degrees in this room.”

Tim sighs just before Lucy assures, “It’s gonna be okay. I really believe that.”

“I’m sure you do. But if it isn’t-“

“Don’t think like that. It’s-“

“If it isn’t,” Tim repeats. “I’m not going out the way my man Pete here just did.”

“What are you saying?”

Tim sighs again, realizing what he said. He would never leave you like that; he’s a fighter. “I need you to do something for me, Chen.”

“Anything.”

“My- my wife is probably worrying herself sick right now. If this doesn’t end like you think it will, can you tell her that I fought to get home to her? Just- just keep an eye on her if anything happens. Wade and Angela, too.”

“Wife?” Lucy asks softly.

Tim smiles, glad to talk about something other than himself or the virus released in the room with him.

“Yeah. We eloped a while back; Grey, Lopez, and Bishop were there.”

“You’ve never mentioned her.”

“I keep her separated. She - everything in my personal life – would be at risk if there wasn’t a divide there.”

“I get that. What’s she like?”

Tim says your name, closing his eyes and picturing you as he tells Lucy how beautiful, kind, and loving you are. “She’s my better half. I don’t- can’t imagine not going home to her.”

“I promise, Tim. I’m confident you will go home to her, but… I promise.”

“Thank you,” Tim says quietly.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Please tell me that’s the vaccine,” Lucy says when Dr. Morgan returns.

“It is,” she answers quickly, walking toward the door quarantining Tim. “Stand back, Officer Chen. You’re not wearing protective gear.”

“Yeah.” Lucy steps back, hoping Tim is okay, and that he gets to go home to you.

“Officer Bradford, it’s time to let me in,” Dr. Morgan calls.

Tim opens the door, greeting Dr. Morgan before answering that he’s not feeling too bad. She tells him that she’s going to administer the vaccine. “It’s experimental, right?” Tim asks.

“That’s correct. So, we’re just going to have to wait and see what happens. Maybe nothing. Maybe you grow horns. But for now, I’d say you might’ve dodged a bullet.”

Tim looks at Lucy to ask, “Can you get Lopez? Ask her to call for me?”

Lucy nods, pulling her radio out to contact Angela. She knows that Tim will need you, no matter how the vaccine works… or doesn’t.

“Lopez,” she says, sighing before saying, “Tim wants to know if you can call his wife.”

“Of course,” Angela answers. “She’ll be at his side, even if I have to go get her in the shop.”

Lucy smiles at Tim, and he sighs as Dr. Morgan administers the vaccine. There’s more hope surrounding Tim now, but the fight may not be over yet.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you see Angela’s name on your phone, you consider not answering. Biting your bottom lip to hold your tears in, you answer.

“He’s okay,” Angela begins.

You sigh in relief, a few tears breaking free anyway. “Thank you, Angela.”

“The vaccine is experimental, so they’re taking him to the CDC for observation; you can visit with the proper protective gear. Do you want me to come pick you up?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“See you in a few. And, just so you know, he didn’t call me.”

“Who did?”

“His rookie.”

Angela reminds you that she’s happy to pick you up if you want before ending the call. Tim mentioned me, you think. Then you wonder whether or not that’s a good thing.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, I heard you guys saved the day,” Lucy says, exiting Langston’s house to meet Nolan, Jackson, Lopez, and Bishop.

“It was a group effort,” Jackson corrects.

“Glad you’re okay,” Nolan expresses.

“Me too,” Lucy sighs. “I- I mean that you’re okay, too.”

“How’s Tim?” Angela asks.

“I think he’s gonna be all right. Now, 24-hour observation at the CDC.”

“I’ll bet my pension he just told doctors Tim Bradford does not ride in a wheelchair,” Angela jokes as Tim walks out.

“Only way I’m leavin’ out of here is on my own two feet,” Bishop imitates.

“Don’t you guys have paperwork to finish?” Tim retorts.

Tim looks at Lucy, nodding his thanks before continuing to walk toward the car waiting to transport him to the CDC. He stops suddenly in the yard, growing dizzy before he falls backward onto the grass.

“Officer Bradford!” Dr. Morgan yells.

Lucy, Angela, Bishop, and Jackson run toward him before the CDC holds them back. Someone calls for an ambulance, and Angela backs away to make a call.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What happened?” you ask, answering Angela’s second call.

“Meet us at Shaw instead of the CDC,” she says.

You can hear yelling in the background, and repeat, “What happened?”

Angela says your name, unyielding as she says, “Shaw. I’ll meet you there.”

You inhale deeply, turning toward Shaw. Knowing that you have no chance of beating an ambulance escorted by police cars, you grip the steering wheel, hoping that Los Angeles traffic has grace on you, and you make it to Tim’s side quickly.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim better make it,” Jackson says.

“He will.” Angela knows that he’s a fighter, but she also knows that losing him will destroy you. He has to make it for himself, for the police department, and most importantly, for you.

In the ambulance ahead, Tim goes into anaphylactic shock. Lucy helps the paramedics and glances at Tim’s left hand. The line where his wedding ring sits is barely visible, but she whispers for him to keep his promise, to keep fighting.

Once the ambulance and the police cars enter into the hospital parking lot, Nolan notices a woman with a gun, alerting the officers surrounding the ambulance before the firefight starts.

Lucy covers Tim in the ambulance as the paramedics assist him as well as the injured medics. Nolan shoots the woman in the shoulder, but his gun jams as he moves closer to her.

Tim opens the ambulance door, downing the armed woman on a surge of adrenaline. Stepping onto the ambulance driveway, he asks Nolan if he’s okay.

“I should have reloaded on the move,” Nolan mutters. “You?”

“I should’ve taken yesterday off,” Tim answers.

“Alright, Officer Bradford, let’s go,” a nurse says, pushing a wheelchair to his side.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Angela!” you call, jogging to her side.

“Don’t freak out,” she begins, but your eyes widen when you see the bullet holes covering, well, everything.

“Where is he?”

She nods, leading you around her shop. Tim is standing beside Nolan, arguing with a nurse.

“I can walk. Clearly, I’m fine,” Tim argues.

You don’t think about how many people are watching as you walk to Tim’s side. He turns toward you, his eyes softening when he sees you.

“Get in the wheelchair,” you demand.

Tim sighs but does as you say. Nolan and Jackson look at each other in shock, and Lucy smiles as she says, “His wife.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When you walk into Tim’s hospital room, he looks like he’s been waiting for you.

“I’m sorry,” he begins.

“For what? Not listening to the nurse?”

Tim chuckles as he raises his left hand, pulling you to his side. “No. I’m sorry for not showing you off more, for never telling people about us. I worried you; I know I did, and you don’t deserve any of it.”

You lean forward, running your fingers across Tim’s jawline as you smile. “You don’t have to show me off. I know why you do it, Tim. Being a secret, being separated and safe, I get it. What I don’t like is not knowing if you’re okay.”

“I don’t want the separation anymore. You are my entire life, and- I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but I’m not risking this again. The idea of not making it home, leaving you alone, with no one knowing you or how much you mean to me… that was terrible, and I’m sorry.”

Pursing your lips, you lean toward Tim and look into his eyes before scanning your eyes over his face.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Trying to figure out where the Tim I know went.”

Tim smiles, moving over in the bed and tugging you against his side. He taps your necklace before raising your hair away from your neck. You unclasp your necklace, sliding Tim’s wedding ring off the chain. Tim lays his left hand in your lap, and you put his ring on slowly before kissing his hand.

“I love you,” Tim says.

“I love you. And I accept your apology, even though I didn’t need it.”

“Ready to meet the rest of my-“

“Friends?” you fill in, smiling.

“Colleagues,” Tim finishes, shaking his head as his arm tightens around your waist.

“Thank you for making sure Angela called me.”

“How clean is the house?”

You laugh, pressing your face against Tim’s shoulder. He knows you well, and though you didn't know what was truly at stake over the last few hours, you did miss him.

“Hey, Mrs. Bradford,” Wade greets, smiling as he leads a small crowd of officers into the room. “I have some rookies here who don’t believe someone would marry Tim.”

“I changed my mind,” Tim replies. “Get out.”

You elbow him gently, smiling as you stand. “It's much easier when he doesn’t tell people. No association to him.”

Tim laughs behind you, and after shaking hands and introducing yourself, you return to Tim’s side: where nothing can hurt you, everything is safe, and you’re the most important thing in the world.

[lxkeee]

Hi, could I request a Lucifer morningstar x darkness demon overlord reader? She lurks in the shadows like a boogeyman, she acts like morticia adams from the adams family, how would he meet or act around the gothic queen👁👁✨

LUCIFER X OVERLORD! FEM! READER

Part two

Lucifer was just wandering around hell, unknowingly entering a territory of an overlord.

He doesn't know okay? It's just a forest of dead wilted trees with ominous aura.

His first instinct is to investigate.

This is his first time coming here, he only discovered this area after flying by to return to the palace.

Lucifer was walking around the dense forest, with his guard up.

The forest was quiet. A little too quiet.

He isn't afraid, unfortunately. He knows he can kill any demon who would try to mess with him.

Crack. A twig snapped

His head whipped to the direction of the noise, “Who goes there? Show yourself!” he threatens, wings in full display.

Shadows moving around him and finally stopping in front of him, morphing into a figure.

Lucifer expected a lot of things, but this.

A very tall and gorgeous woman, large deer antlers on her head. Sultry eyes and a smirk on her face.

Oh fuck, she's beautiful. Dangerous. He can sense the power she has.

“Good evening your highness, I didn't expect to see you here wandering around my home.” the woman says with a chuckle, making the man become a little flustered.

“Your home...?” he asked hesitantly and the woman nodded.

“Yes, this is my home or rather my territory. My home is somewhere around here. I just sensed a presence around these grounds and decided to check. I didn't expect to see the king of hell to be here.”

“M-my apologies, my lady. I simply didn't know.” he stammers a bit. Ah, calm yourself Lucifer. You're more powerful so you shouldn't be intimidated, he says to himself internally.

“It is alright, if you don't mind. Do you want to join me for a cup of tea? I just so happen to have finished brewing some.”

Lucifer is cautious around sinners, especially her. He doesn't know why his heart is palpitating this much. The best reason he got is fear loud incorrect buzzer noise

“I don't want to intrud—”

“Nonsense! You're not intruding.”

“But—”

“Do not fret, I am not going to hurt you. I should be the scared one as you are much more powerful than me. I am sure you can obliterate my existence with a flick of your finger.” the woman laughs softly, a kind of laugh that reminds him of the books he's read. The kind of laugh that draws you in.

“How about this, how about we get acquainted with each other? So that you'll be more comfortable?”

Lucifer's eyes narrowed, “Why are you so insistent?”

“Well, I just love making friends and you my dear seem to be an interesting character that I don't mind befriending.”

Lucifer rolls his eyes but eventually nodded, “Fine, My name is Lucifer Morningstar.”

“Wonderful, then... It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Lucifer, my name is [y/n]” She says before gently holding his hand and placing a small kiss on his knuckles.

With a smirk on her face as her eyes looked at him as she did so.

Lucifer's cheeks reddened, quickly snatching his hand away from the demoness.

“So, about that tea?”

Lucifer is beginning to see a pattern.

A type even.

It's been a few months since he's met the deer demoness.

Surprisingly he managed to get along with her, despite her... Rather questionable actions.

He often visits her mansion at the middle of the forest where he met her or the other way around.

She often surprises him by popping out of the shadows with her presence concealed.

She's playful, mysterious, dangerous, beautiful.

And tall.

He likes his women tall okay?

And he likes them a little deranged.

Anyways.

She keeps teasing him.

Just like the other day, he came to visit at the wrong time and she forced him to help her get dressed.

It was inappropriate! She only asked him to zip the zipper of her dress.

Poor guy was blushing.

She didn't make fun of his obsession with rubber ducks.

She even made ducks out of shadows and made it swim around his room and of course, he made one too with his powers.

The shadows and gold dust ducks swimming around the room and in the air.

It was... Cute...

Lucifer has gotten to know the woman better too, he has gotten the chance to see many sides of her.

Lucifer isn't stupid, he can tell he's developing feelings for her.

He's afraid, he's afraid of getting hurt again or hurting her.

He has issues he needed to fix first.

Though, he is slightly a flustered mess around the woman.

Can you blame him? She calls him endearing nicknames! She calls him sweetheart and it just makes his heart flutter.

He is cautious around her not because he's afraid of her but because he fears his feelings for her would accidentally be known.

And she just appears out of nowhere!

It took awhile for him to sort his emotions and he thinks he is finally ready to confess.

But first, Lucifer needs to find hints if she feels the same way.

“Thanks for the coffee, [y/n]. It tastes amazing as always.” Lucifer says, admiring the duck shaped cream that is floating on his coffee.

“It is a pleasure, sweetheart. Drink to your heart's content. I know you've been stressed lately.” She says with a gentle voice.

“I have a question.” he started, already planning a discreet way to ask her.

“Hmm? Go ahead.”

“What if let's say... You have a close friend and you've only known him for a couple of months but they fell in love with you and now they're planning to confess to you? Would you date him?”

Don't mind him guys, he's trying his best.

[y/n] tilts her head slightly, confused before giggling.

She's not stupid but she kinda wants to tease him.

“Depending on who this friend is.”

“Just answer.” he deadpans.

“Yes, would you confess though?” she asked as she leans forward to reach him across the table, holding his chin. Lips just a few inches away from each other.

Lucifer.exe has stopped working.

“Y-yes...” he stammers, beginning to feel shy as his cheeks heat up.

“Do you want a kiss?” she asked teasingly.

“Please...?”

“Good boy.” she says before finally pressing her lips against his.

It was the most addicting kiss he ever experienced.

“I like you.”

“I like me too.”

“[y/n]!”

“I am just joking, I like you too.”

[mochinomnoms]

Oh? Pray tell, what do Jade, Mal and Azul enjoy so much about the period sex?

[cw] - period sex, implications of a breeding kink at the end

Referring to this post

*slams hands on desk*

Okay so they all have their own justifications other than they just think their partner is hot, and they're down bad. I like to think they all have a thing for servicing their partner, so starting from the bottom to the top:

Azul knows that he is needed to give you assistance. It's what he lives for! Anything you might need, it's his job to give, and give he does~ Azul is researching all the ways that can help with your symptoms, particularly cramps as it seems to be the most consistent pain. He finds that heating pads are the best, as well as general pain meds. However, you already have a bunch from Ortho and the nurse has you covered with meds. So what's an octomer to do? It's during his research that he discovers that orgasms can help with the pain. He thinks it's strange, if you're bleeding and shedding your lining, wouldn't having sex make it hurt? Even if he gave you oral, the blood would be everywhere and make a mess. Like him when he inks. He'd have to take you in the water, and probably be in his merform to make sure that any predators that sense your blood. You'd be pretty dependent on him, for protection and to feel good. Your pretty hair, billowing around your face as his arms wrap around your form, one of his tentacles massaging your insides ever so gently. Hmm, actually—From there, he's inviting you over to Octavinelle for the weekend, where he offers to show you a new cramp remedy he's learned about. You're surprised when he takes you to the dorm pool, and looks at you with a smug smile as he drags you in the water, offering his 8 limbs to sooth your cramps with a nice massage. It's a thoroughly enjoyable massage~

Malleus learns of this remedy from Lilia, who heard about it on his travels after a tryst with a cute human. He's so sweet to you (and only you) that he wants to do his best to help his human out. Malleus has no qualms about getting dirty, he can magic himself clean if needed, and he's still concerned about the fact that you're in pain. He's not sure what it is about orgasms that help with pain, but if it helps then he's happy to be of assistance! He doesn't want to stress you out more than necessary, so Malleus decides that eating you out is the best course of action. Malleus won't mention that you being more whiny and needy during your period, making you extra pilable and receptive, struck a particular nerve in him. He works you to your first orgasm, delighted at how extra sensitive you were as you easily fell about to his ministrations. The first time he does this, he pulled away to check on you, blood staining your thighs and his lips. You'd let out a low whine, arching your back as you opened your eyes to look at him, and smiled. A sweet, satisfied smile as you praise him for his gentleness and willingness to take care of you. He was taking care of you, like a mate should, and keeping you satisfied and happy. Malleus was a good mate, so in his mind, he should keep being a good mate so that you'll keep praising him. He dived right back in and left you squealing and shaking for the next few hours.

He likes to be depended on, he likes caring for things that need to depend on him. Jade likes to be in control, a mastermind that pulls the puppet's strings in the background. He likes things that are vulnerable to him and his whims, and this is no different with you and Jade. Granted, you're not a terrarium of his, you're his sweet little human, so he's not going to treat you as such. But, he still likes being a bit in control of your care and being needed by you. Jade loves when you're needy: he can care for you, love you, dazzle you so that he can never compare to any other love you may have. Not that he plans on letting you go anytime soon. Oh no, Jade may say he doesn't understand the appeal of the surface world like other merfolk, but make no mistake. Jade is enchanted by the differences between the human body and his own. Jade had made it his mission to thoroughly “research” human anatomy with you, and is delighted at how strange it is (he gets banned from touching you for a week for that statement). And you bleed roughly once a month? Do you know what that knowledge did to his brain? He's quite interested in learning how your period effects your body: do you get more sensitive, do you get more emotional, what does it do to you? Would you taste different? Feel different when he enters his length into you? Will you be more pliant to him, or more combative? It's just all so fascinating. Upon learning how your period effects your body, the pains you endure, he makes it his mission to make sure he can meet all your needs. Jade came up to you, unusually giddy one night, with a preposition. He takes you to bed, sending a begrudging Grim off to Heartslabyul, laying a towel underneath you, and getting to work to test out his hypothesis. Jade's face is covered in a mix of your juices and blood, both a sweet and metallic taste that is pleasing to his moray tongue, as he finished giving you your third orgasm of the night. Jade is licking his lips clean has he moves to place the tip of his cock against your entrance, rubbing against it as he leans down to whisper, “Do let me know in detail how this feels, I myself am particularly enjoying delightfully you taste. I imagine you'll feel just as good squeezing around me.” Happy to serve, Jade is concerned that you have to go through such pain once a month. He offers to help you get rid of it for at least 9 months, longer if you don't mind having a set of irish twins*, one after the other.

*irish twins are siblings that are born 12 months or less apart

Hehehe yummy, :p comments and reblogs appreciated!

[brucewaynehater101]

I need you to stop me from making another Tim Drake centric fic

I got this random idea that won’t leave me alone

like what if the emotional scars and trauma people have show up physically too most commonly as little cracks on the skin and all of the bats have them

they hide them tho with make up and stuff so people don’t question it except Tim hides them from everyone maybe bc that’s what his parents taught him to do maybe bc he just doesn’t want to burden any of the bats

the bats think that Tim is fine so to them he’s invincible which leads them to treat him as such subconsciously or otherwise especially Bruce

it takes a lot for something to be bad enough that they physically manifest and Tim has A LOT bc everyone thinks he’s invincible

:) it won’t leave me alone help me I beg of you

Hmm.... Let's add on, shall we? This is a very rad idea. You should definitely write a fic about it, but no pressure.

Mind if I explore it? Also, feel free to disregard any part below you don't want/disagree with. This is just brainstorming ^^

Alright. Emotional scars are a physical mark on someone's skin.

Similar to regular scars, they can fade as a person heals.

Some may never disappear, and some only appear for a short time.

What would their color be?

Would they look like actual cracks in a person (so black-ish in color)? Would they be gold or multi-colored (different colors represent different kinds of emotional traumas)?

The level of hurt inflicted is directly proportional to the size (length and width) of the scar.

Perhaps more could be deduced from the general shape (is it jagged? A single line? Branching?)

Not all people have these marks

Most of the population manifests them. There's some prejudice against folk who don't [something something they are heartless, incapable of feelings, not able to be emotionally hurt, cold, detached, etc.], but hiding scars is also common. Therefore, it's harder to discern whether someone is hiding their marks or markless. It's a very fine line, so most people allow a smaller mark to show every once in a while. There's even a few trends to proudly display all marks.

Marks appear at the time of the emotional harm

It may not be apparent at the time due to the location, but the individual being hurt will manifest the mark at the very moment of emotional harm.

Anyways, that's the background stuff. Fun, but let's get into Tim specifically ^^

Tim's parents are part of the few who believe that showing off your scars to anyone, even your loved ones, is both a weakness and a way to guilt-trip people. Therefore, through their archeology studies, they managed to obtain magical objects to prevent the showing of emotional marks. It's similar to glamor.

Tim's object can change forms to suit his needs (so a ring at one moment and an earring the next). This ability prevents the Bats from discovering it.

Janet fakes a very small mark on her hand when she wants to discourage any rumors that's she's incapable of manifesting marks. For Tim, though, his parents wanted him to have rumors of being incapable of forming marks. It served their purpose better for him being the cunning Drake heir.

The deception started from birth, so no one but the Drakes know of Tim's ability to form marks [and the Drake parents never see the marks they leave behind on their child].

The Waynes, long before Tim entered their life, were aware of these rumors. Thus, when Tim demands to become Robin, he doesn't correct their assumptions.

Bruce is a callous fucker to Tim at the start. If Tim can't be hurt emotionally, then Bruce's ill-treatment of him is fine (which is flawed logic. The markless can be emotionally hurt, and they still deserve kindness, dignity, and respect even if they couldn't. Bruce was mentally fucked up, but it doesn't excuse his treatment).

Eventually, Bruce comes to the second realization that Tim should still be treated well even if it doesn't hurt him regardless. The man's behavior is better, but he still has the notion in mind that Tim can't be emotionally hurt. He uses this for missions and to downplay the way his other kids treat Tim (specifically Jason and Damian when they first meet Tim).

Tim gets used to a rotation of insult-names: Robot Robin, heartless, markless (said insultingly), cold-blooded, unfeeling bastard, etc.

He's also subject to a TON of misunderstandings. People are more reluctant to love him due to the belief that he can't love them back. He gets yelled at and told off for "masking/faking his emotions" when he's actually being genuine.

Which adds to his hurt :)

He also has to pretend not to grieve his parents when they die :(

Due to how rare markless are, the Bats don't meet "another" one until after the BruceQuest. When they chat with this person, they realize how many misconceptions they have about them (such as the markless being incapable of feelings. In fact, they accidentally offend that person when they tell the other they don't need to fake their emotions in front of the Bats. Safe to say, the markless individual becomes incensed when they realize how they've been treating their own markless family member).

This would be at least four (probably closer to five) years after Tim first became Robin. The entire family has a meltdown.

Tim, on the other hand, is used to the treatment the Bats have been giving him and becomes incredibly uncomfortable with them trying to care for his feelings and whatnot. It's rocky for a long while as everyone tries to seek forgiveness for something Tim bitterly doesn't hold against them (he is lying to them after all).

Tim rarely, if ever, views his own marks. The last time he checked was when he was having his identity crisis after Robin was taken from him. His entire body, from head to toe, had cracks in it. There was a giant, gaping crack on his back for the metaphorical stab in the back it was.

And we haven't even gotten to when the Bats figure out Tim was never markless :)

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (15/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Showing your friend your favorite place shouldn't be as romantic as it is.

Warnings: this is soft, like really soft, Charles is cute, everything's cute so be prepared, Charles playing piano

Word Count: 3.5k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: ahhhhhhhhhh. feedback is appreciated.

"Not happening."

You put your hands on your hips and look at your roommate with narrowed eyebrows. "Why not?"

"Because I said so." Charles holds your Renault's car keys tightly in his hand as you stand in front of your car in the underground parking garage. 

Ever since you left the apartment - wrapped in thick, cozy sweaters and warm socks - you've been bickering about who should sit in the driver's seat.

"You don't know where we have to go," you argue, holding out your hand, so he can put the key in it. After all, he really doesn't know where your favorite place is, and for sure you wouldn't tell him if you wanted it to remain a surprise. 

Charles shrugs his shoulders. "So what? You can guide me." He lets the key ring circle around his finger. "But I'm driving."

"But it's my car," you try to change his mind. "And you've driven it the last few times. Both to your place and to Joris and to the restaurant. Would you want to be the passenger princess in your own car?"

Your buddy raises an eyebrow in confusion. "Passenger princess? What's that?"

You cross your arms in front of your chest. "Actually, it's a girl who can't, won't, or shouldn't drive, and that's why she's always driven by her boyfriend." You point to your car. "But I can, and more importantly, I want to drive my car too."

"But you don't have to now." A grin spreads across his face and it becomes clear that you can't win here. "So, be a good passenger princess. Sit in your seat, look pretty, and let your boyfriend drive you around." He walks around the hood and opens the passenger door. "Let's go. I thought you said we were supposed to make the most of the time before I left for Italy. And you can pout on the drive, too."

As he titles himself your boyfriend, your heart beats a tiny bit faster, but you block that out as you follow him and reluctantly plop down in the seat. "Alright, go ahead and drive. But I'll be complaining the whole time."

Charles smiles at you. "I expected nothing less." He closes the door as you buckle up and trots back to his side of the car, where he takes a seat next to you. "So, where are we going?"

"If you'd let me drive, then you wouldn't have to ask," you reply to him, playfully annoyed, letting the seatbelt tighten against your chest. 

The brunette puts the key in the ignition and lets the engine rev briefly. "But you're my passenger princess. So, which way do we have to go?" He presses down on the gas pedal and steers the car out of the underground garage and onto Monaco's streets. 

You pucker your lips into a thin line. "Nice."

Charles' head jerks in your direction. "You traitor." 

You turn to him and cross your arms in front of your chest. "Why is that? It's not my fault there's no place like it here in Monaco."

"Maybe you just haven't been looking properly," he says, turning - reluctantly - at a street sign that says Nice. "There's so much to discover here. So many beautiful things. And they're right under your nose."

You raise an eyebrow. A song is playing softly on the radio, whose name you don't know, but it sounds very familiar. "And what would that be, for example?" you ask. 

Charles' gaze lingers on you for a moment before he looks ahead again. He swallows once and his slender fingers curl around the worn leather of the steering wheel as he turns again to drive out of town. "Tiramisu, for one."

You have to laugh. "I already know that, Charles. That tiramisu was by far the best thing I've ever eaten. So it doesn't count."

He shrugs. "Then you don't have to go all the way to Nice for it." He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, then clears his throat. "I mean, if you've already had the best tiramisu here, then it's not even worth the effort. You can be perfectly happy with the tiramisu here, no?"

You turn another bit in his direction, your hands folded in your lap looking at him. 

The lights of the lanterns on the streets and the last rays of the day's sun bathe his face in a warm gold, his hair hangs slightly in his forehead and the dimples that usually bore into his cheeks are only slightly hinted at as he purses his mouth into a thin line and waits for your reaction.

Is his remark about Nice an innuendo about Lando? That you don't have to go to Nice with him when it's best with Charles? Is Charles then the "best tiramisu"? The one that's right in front of your nose, but you're too blind to recognize? 

Even though you're not blind at all. You see Charles clearly in front of you, you know how beautiful and wonderful he is, and with all due respect, you've even dreamed about him. You know full well that Charles is the absolute best thing that has ever happened to you. But your focus is limited to your friendship, not allowed to spread to anything else for fear that it might affect yours and that it might suffer. 

Charles is your favorite tiramisu. And you don't need to try another to be sure of that. But maybe tiramisu is just a dessert you share out of friendship because it's easier, more enjoyable. A means to an end. 

You smile at your friend. "I'm perfectly happy with my tiramisu here."

A slight blush creeps onto Charles' cheeks, almost certainly from the fact that the heater is warming up the inside of the car and he's wearing a thick sweater. At least, that's what you try to tell yourself. "I'm perfectly happy with the tiramisu here, too."

The rest of the car ride is quiet. The radio continues to play songs that you hum along to as Charles focuses on the road and it grows darker outside. The silence between you is not uncomfortable, but relaxing and comforting. Neither of you feels compelled to say anything, to keep the conversation going, but you simply enjoy the closeness the car gives you before you break the silence and give Charles instructions on which direction to drive. 

When you end up at a narrow road after twenty-five minutes, he turns off the engine. "So, where's your favorite place now?" He spins around a bit, trying to make out something through the windows of the car, but he can't make out anything except houses, small boutiques, and a deserted neighborhood. 

No normal person would venture out of the warmth of their own home in this cold. Except the two of you. 

"Over there." You point to a dark alley from which a small beam of light shines on the asphalt. Your gaze wanders to Charles. "If you laugh at me for that, or talk down to it, I'll hurt you." You knead your fingers in your lap. 

Showing Charles your favorite place makes you incredibly nervous. Showing someone something so personal, so intimate, makes you vulnerable. And if Charles actually thought your favorite place was terrible, or said something bad about it - you don't even like to think about that. 

"Don't worry," he says, putting his hand on the doorknob. "If the place is as great as you are, then nothing bad can happen at all."

Together you walk off, cold winter wind sweeping your faces, and you're so grateful Charles lent you that thick hoodie. Hiding your hands in your sweater, you walk beside him down the street, following the narrow strip of light into the narrow alley. In front of a store with dim lights, you stop. 

You look at Charles. "This is it."

Your friend looks up from you to the store. The petits mondes is a small, two-story bookstore with ivy entwined around its sign. Fairy lights hang under the rain gutter, casting warm light on your faces. From outside, you can see the countless books stacked to the ceiling in the store through the small store window. "Petits mondes? Little worlds?" asks Charles without looking at you. 

"Exactly," you answer him, rocking from one foot to the other. 

"Okay." Charles looks at you and gestures toward the bookstore with a nod of his head. "Shall we?"

Your friend kindly holds the door open for you and lets you enter the store first, and immediately the smell of old books wafts around you. The shelves are overflowing with books so that the boards bend, and even the floor is piled high with copies, so you have to watch where you step. As you stop to let the place sink in, you sense Charles behind you. 

"Show me," he breathes into the back of your neck and goosebumps spread across your body. "Show me your favorite place, mon amour."

Paralyzed, you stand in front of him, feeling his hot breath on your heated skin, and when he gently places his hands where your hips are, your brain seems to short-circuit. His touch burns through your clothes, through your skin and it feels like his touch is twitching through your veins. 

As someone comes up to you from the back of the store, he takes his hands off you. You take a deep breath. 

"Y/N!" An older gentleman stands behind the sales counter. "How nice to finally see you again! Where have you been the last few days?" 

"Hi, Thomas," you greet him with a smile. "I've been incredibly busy. How's Agathe doing? Did she take her new medication well?" You take a few steps toward him as Charles stops in the doorway. 

"Oh, it was terrible at first. She barely ate and slept very little, but she's much better now," he replies before glancing over your shoulder. "Who's your friend over there? Come here, young man, I won't bite."

You look to Charles, whose gaze lingers on you. He follows you and stops beside you. "I'm Charles. It's nice to meet you," he says, a little nervously. 

"Likewise. Make yourself at home here," Thomas smiles at him before turning back to you. "You know where everything is. I'll lock up the store in a good fifteen minutes, but I'll leave the spare key here." 

You nod gratefully at him. "Thank you very much. Please give Agathe my regards, and above all, please continue to get well, won't you?" You take a few steps toward the spiral staircase, which is in the back of the store, before turning to him once more. "And don't stay up too late, or you'll have that headache again tomorrow, yeah?"

"Of course, Y/N." Thomas smiles at Charles. "Go on, enjoy the evening. I'm sure we'll see each other again." Then he disappears. 

"He's nice," says Charles, who joins you but glances after Thomas. 

"He is," you counter him, and together you climb the steps of the steep spiral staircase to the top floor. "Agathe - his wife - is sick, which is why he's closing the store early to get to her faster. They've known each other for sixty years and they've been married for fifty," you tell him. When the two of you arrive upstairs, you look at Charles. "I guess they were best friends at first before they finally found each other." 

Charles' smile is gentle. "And they opened the store together?"

You nod and take a few more steps as you let your outstretched fingers roam over the many book spines on the shelves. "The store is twice as old as we are, and they put so much time and love into this. I think you can tell with every single book."

"With every single little world," Charles adds. "Petits mondes."

The two of you browse through various books until you arrive at a small couch with books piled up on its sides. A table lamp stands on the small column, casting warm light on the dark red fabric. In the corner next to it is an old piano with loose sheets of music. 

"I like to come here when I feel lonely. When I'm surrounded by these many little worlds, I know I'm not alone," you explain your favorite place, Charles listening intently. "Although I've been living in Monaco for months, and even though it's my home, I still feel quite lonely sometimes. And ever since I broke up with Raphael and all my friends dropped me, this place has been my refuge."

Charles drops onto the narrow bench that sits in front of the piano and surveys the slightly yellowed keys. "When was the last time you were here?" 

You sit down on the couch. "The day you stood in my apartment," you reply, a smile spreading across his face. 

"You mean when I was standing in my apartment," he grins, tilting his head. 

You purse your lips. "Do you play?" you ask him, gesturing toward the piano with a nod of your head. 

He shrugs his shoulders. "A little. I started learning to play two years ago, but I'm not particularly good at it."

You prop your elbow on the armrest and rest your head in your hand. "Would you play something for me?"

"Something from the sheets here?" he asks, sliding the loose pages back and forth on the piano, looking for something appropriate for this moment. 

"Whatever you like," you answer him.

Charles nods and raises his hands to place his fingers gently on the keys. He takes one deep breath before looking to you. With a smile, you encourage him to get started, and as he returns your smile, his fingers begin to dance across the piano. 

You watch him as he intently plays a melody you don't know. His eyes flicker as well as his movements across the keys, moving from the high notes to the low ones. The sight of seeing him so in his element, so captivated by the music, brings tears to your eyes. 

He plays with a passion that you would also like to feel for something, and whatever the song is that he is playing there for you, you would love to tattoo on your skin. The warm light from the lamp shines softly on his face as he looks over at you for a moment. 

After a few minutes, when he lets his fingers linger on the keys and the last notes fade away, you have to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

"It's beautiful," you breathe, smiling at him. "Who's it from?"

Charles turns back to you and there's a twinkle in his green eyes. "It's my piece," he replies, looking down at his hands. "I wrote it."

You widen your eyes. "That was from you?" you ask, aghast, pointing your finger at the piano. "Don't bullshit me, Charles. That's really from you?" When he nods, you slap your hands over your head. "And you say you're not very good at it." 

He shrugs. "I didn't write the piece, it - it just came out of me. This place -" He stands up from the bench and spreads his arms, "I can see why this is your favorite place. It's beautiful here, and I'm very grateful to you for sharing all these little worlds with me. It means a lot to me." He tilts his head. "I just hope you don't feel lonely around me and need to seek refuge here."

You get up from the couch and stand in front of him. Most of all, you want to tell him that Charles is the reason you haven't been here since you met, that he is your haven. But you can't tell him that as a friend. Friends don't do that. 

"Thank you for coming here with me." You poke his finger against his hard chest. "And thanks for not making fun of it. After all, it's not as special as the place you showed me."

Charles takes a deep breath. "Everyone has their own experiences that make certain places special. I would never make fun of you. You're too important to me for that." He leans a bit in your direction and tilts his head. "I know it's your place, and I definitely don't want to seem like an intruder, but maybe we can make this our place too. To one of our little worlds," he suggests, pulling back a little, only to reach out to you. "Dance with me, mon amour."

You smile at him. "We don't have music, Charles."

He shrugs. "We can make our own music," he counters, noticing how reluctant you are to take his hand. 

His suggestion to make this place one of yours is lovely, but what would happen if the two of you stopped being friends at some point? Then you would have to find a new place, a new haven - and you definitely don't want that. This place means far too much to you for that. 

You don't know what to say to that, so you just smile and move away from him a little more. A glance at the clock hanging on one wall tells you that you've been in the store longer than you think.

"We'd better get going. We haven't eaten anything decent yet, and it's getting late, and we still have to head back." You make your way back toward the stairs, where you then stop and glance back. Charles' outstretched hand is now in his pants pocket, and judging by the look on his face, you've hurt his feelings. Something you definitely don't want to happen, but you can't stop it either. "You coming?"

Putting a little distance between you, you head down the stairs and hear Charles slowly following you with heavy footsteps. Once downstairs, you reach for the spare key Thomas has left for you. There's a switch under the counter, which you flip as your friend joins you, and all the lights in the store - including the string of lights outside - go out. 

"I don't want the day to end." Even though it's dark in the store, you see Charles clearly ahead of you. His look is a little sad as he walks toward you. A few inches in front of you, he stops. "When the day is over, it's already tomorrow and then I have to go. And then we won't see each other for four days." You feel him reach for the hem of your sweater with his fingers. 

You smile softly at him. "It's only four days. You'll be fine," you try to talk him down, even though you feel the same way. Four days isn't the end of the world - so why does it feel like an eternity?

Charles continues to play with your sweater. "It's our third day together, and I don't know why, but I've already gotten so used to you. To your company, being so close to you." He looks from the hem into your eyes. "It's going to be weird not having you around me all the time."

"How do you think I'll be?" you venture to ask him, and confused, he looks at you. "Well, you're in Italy having your meetings, your work colleagues and I'm here just waiting for you to come home." You push your bottom lip forward. "Not that you'll forget about me and not hear from you."

Charles wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against his body. Chest to chest, you stand there in the dark bookstore, only the thick sweaters between you, your faces inches apart. If you would just stretch a little, go up on your toes, your lips would brush his. His hot breath glides over your face and you close your eyes. 

"I could never forget you, mon amour. How many times do I have to tell you how important you are to me?" You feel his hands on your back, pressing you against him. Not a sheet of paper fits between you anymore. Heat spreads through your body, and it's definitely not because of the thick sweater. 

"So often, until I believe it," you answer him softly, and there's so much more meaning in your words than either of you can imagine. 

He tilts his head forward a little more. "I promise you that you'll never have to doubt how much you mean to me, even if I have to tell you a hundred times, a thousand times, a million times." His scent envelops you like a cloud and that feeling, what you can only describe as Charles, surges through your body. "I will tell you as many times as you need to hear it, mon amour. In this life and the next. In each of our little worlds."

next part

[wizard-finix]

LU Star Wars AU: Part 5

LAST BUT NOT LEAST ITS TIME AND SKY LETS GO

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Time

Time is a direct survivor of Order 66. He was a child living in one of the more remote temples when everything happened, and was able to escape alive by fleeing into the dense forests of the planet.

Time spent many years after that traveling on his own and not getting close to anyone out of fear of being found out, or worse, left behind. He holds a certain bitterness towards everything that's happened, and when he was a teenager, he was involved in a major incident on the planet Termina. Time finally decided to bury his saber on a remote planet after that, unwilling to take on the responsibility that comes with it.

Time actually ended up meeting Sheik and donning Mandalorian armor some time after that in his teenage years. He doesnt always gel with Mandalorian warrior ideaology, but he doesn’t truly fit the Jedi way of his childhood anymore either, after all the war and death he’s seen. He's determined to be strong enough to protect those he cares about, like Malon.

Time doesn't entirely get along with the Chain at first. (Especially Warriors and Twilight; Warriors reminds him of his old Jedi master, who wore a red scarf, and Twilight's saber looks suspiciously familiar.) The boys eventually grew on him anyway, and he counts them among the people he cares about.

Sky

Sky comes from a gaseous planet in the Outer Rim with settlements that float in the clouds, constructed far above its surface.

Sky's planet is a bit of a cosmic mystery, since it should be impossible for islands of solid rock to float; some theorize that it was constructed instead of naturally occurring, or that there is a unique combination of magnetic fields and orbits that make it possible, but no one knows for certain. Loftwings are part of the planet's ecosystem of impossible floating islands, and are an important part of the culture there.

Being so remote, the Empire didn't show much interest in Sky's home planet until Ghirahim showed up. The Empire hasn’t taken over his home yet, and he is determined to keep it that way, along with the rest of the Knights of Skyloft (including Sun). Ghirahim's interest in the planet involved rumors that there was an old Jedi temple hidden on its surface, and the secrets that were hidden within it.

Those rumors turned out to be true; there was an ancient abandoned temple on one of the floating islands, and Sky and Sun ended up discovering it before Ghirahim did. Sky also found a protocol droid named F1, and with Fi's help he and Sun managed to forge their own sabers with the only remaining kyber crystals there.

Sky's connection to the Force manifests mostly as visions, and he occasionally experiences strange, cryptic dreams as a result.

Linked Universe AU belongs to @ linkeduniverse!

[totalswag]

Can you write a headcanons that Drew meets actress!reader for the first time and that they end up dating. (she's not in the cast of obx)

Like reader doesn't know who Drew is at all but Drew knows her from some movies or series, they meet at a party of their mutual friend and their relationship are friends to lovers.

I'd like to know who makes the first move between Drew and Reader

love at first sight — DREW STARKEY

authors note i’ve never done headcanons before and always wanted to do one but didn’t know what topic to do so THANK YOU for the request lovie. please let me know if this is what you were looking for. it's my first time making one of these.

paring drew x actress!reader

➪ You two happened to be at the same party at one of your good mutual friends parties one night in LA.

➪ You were a well known actress from your popular tv series that's been going on for two years now and two movies you were in as well.

➪ Drew noticed you standing with a few of your friends, talking and laughing, from across the room and couldn't keep his gaze away from you the entire time.

➪ At the time, Drew was contemplating whether or not to approach you and introduce himself, but he didn't want to make a fool of himself.

➪ Instead of going up to you, he continued to stay with his friends and occasionally look in your direction. You felt eyes on you during that time but didn't know who.

➪ You noticed Drew and his friends as you walked back from the bathroom with a few of your girlfriends. You didn’t know who he was either.

➪ There was something in you urging you to turn around and start conversation with this mystery guy. A good feeling. Also couldn't get over the fact how good looking he is too.

➪ Your girlfriend whispered in your ear, "That's Drew Starkey, who plays Rafe Cameron in Outer Banks," she says.

➪ You remember glancing at her with a puzzled expression before inquiring who he was. She stared at you like you were living under a rock.

➪ You were amazed by his acting when she showed you a scene from the latest seasons of Outer Banks.

➪ "I'ma go talk to him!" You told your girlfriends right before you walked over to the handsome tall 6'3 foot man.

➪ Let's say you definitely caught him off guard when you approached him with a toothy smile, introducing yourself to him and cast mates from his tv show. He couldn't believe you were standing in front of him looking all beautiful.

➪ You making the first move is bold and it's very unlike you. Especially when you find someone cute.

➪ "I think you're really handsome, Drew," Gazing at the man in front of you.

➪ You two didn't stop talking once you started. The rest of the night was spent hip to hip. By the end of the night, you had discovered a lot about each other. He couldn't believe you'd never heard of him before, despite the fact that he knew about you.

➪ "We should go out sometime together, are you available next Friday for lunch?" Drew asked as people began to leave the party. Of course, you gave him your number and went to lunch.

➪ The more hung out, the more feelings began to grow for one another in ways you never expected. Never felt so comfortable with someone before until you met each other.

➪ Three months later, Drew asked you to be his girlfriend by taking you to a private beach with all of your favorite snacks and drinks laid out on a blanket and lights that said "Be My Girlfriend?" It was the most beautiful scene ever.

➪ Being together was meant to be. Supportive of each-other in your careers. Always baking your favorite desserts together with oldies in the background. Couldn’t be more happier.

my taglist!

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account.

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[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ v ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: sorry it took a while compared to the other chapters. i finished up my lab reports in my surveying class. this is not edited nor is it beta read and i dont remember much on what happened during the 2018-2021 seasons so pardon me if there are inaccuracies. anyways, welcome to max's pov. u can say im stalling on the shitshow that will happen once max discovers that reader resigned. lemme know what you think.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1

masterlist.

2018

“Who’s that?”

Daniel looks up, cheeks stuffed with the sandwich he was eating for lunch, “Who?”

Max cringes internally. His mother always told him and Victoria to not talk when his mouth was full, she called it bad manners, and now, he is understanding where she was coming from with those lectures. Nevertheless, he doesn't reprimand Daniel. Instead, he gestures to the girl standing a few meters away from their table in the Red Bull hospitality staff cafeteria, who was happily chatting with two Red Bull senior engineers whom Max recognizes to be Elijah Stuart and Richard Fox.

It is the first time Max has seen her. A new employee perhaps? Perhaps not. She lacks the company standard uniform.

Daniel trails his line of sight to where Max has pointed, “Which one? Richard?”

“No,” Max groans. Daniel blinks.

“Elijah?”

This is quickly becoming annoying.

“The girl, Daniel,” Max says, his exasperation bleeding through his words. “She’s not wearing a Red Bull polo.”

Daniel’s brows rise to his hairline, head snapping back to Max, “[Name]?”

Then, a shit-eating grin erupts on his lips. “Are you interested in her?”

“She’s not my type,” Max’s denial comes quickly. Is it even considered denial if it’s the truth? In his twenty almost twenty-one years being alive, Max never really put a lot of time into thinking about what his ideal type would look like. But he is sure that the woman of his dreams will look very far from the woman who was successful in catching his attention because you are wearing a black shirt in a sea of Red Bull polo shirts.

You with your eyes that forms into tiny crescent moons once your face breaks into a grin, you with your smile that shows too much gums and too much teeth, you with your hands that moves too much when you talk, and you with that too loud and too obnoxious laugh that comes even with the lamest of jokes. You’re like Daniel in a way. All happy sunshine vibes.

Max is watching you close, observing how you were interacting with Richard and Elijah. They're old men and no one should look this happy while talking to boring, old, white men, who worked more than four decades in the engineering industry so they only know how to speak boomer language and everything engineering. Surprisingly, Elijah and Richard seem to be having fun talking to you. A miracle on its own because they never even look that happy talking to Daniel Ricciardo and everybody in Red Bull Racing adores sunshine honey badger, Daniel Ricciardo.

“I didn't say anything.”

“You're thinking about it.”

“How would you know what I’m thinking?”

“Because you’re currently on a quest to erase my singledom. I can put two and two together.”

Daniel snorts, crossing his arms over his chest, “Maybe I just want to let you meet new friends.”

“I have enough friends.”

“You don't have friends that are not racers.”

Max presses his lips in a thin line.

“She’s my manager, by the way.” says Daniel, leaning back into his seat.

“What happened to Nick?”

“He’s on leave,” Daniel says. “His wife’s giving birth soon. She’s my temporary manager for a few months. Or I don't know, maybe the whole season.”

Max brows rise in pleasant surprise but says nothing.

“Now that I think about it, she’s around your age. How old are you again? Twenty-two?”

“Twenty,” Max corrects. His birthday is still months away from pre-season. On the end of September.

“Ah, she's older than you. Oh wait, here she comes. Hey, [Name]! Here!”

Max flinches and his heart begins ramming against his ribs erratically that he thinks he’ll undergo cardiac arrest in a matter of seconds. He does a double take—why am I even panicking?—then forces himself to calm down and straightens up in his seat. His shoulders and neck are still considerably stiff and his palms are slowly becoming sweaty. He swallows an invisible stone in his throat.

“¡Hola mi amiga, [Name]!” Daniel greets and his Spanish accent sounds off that it makes [Name], who stopped right in front of their table, giggle and when Max looks up at her through his lashes, it almost feels like the world is turning too rapidly on its axis and it’s making Max dizzy. Daniel and her do a friendly handshake—when did they reach this level of friendship?

“Hola, Daniel,” she greets, smiling. Your accent reminds Max of Carlos, but unlike Carlos, who possesses a very distinct Spanish accent, yours sounded subtler than his and it's mixed with the charming rhythm of words that reminds Max of sunsets in the south. You pronounce Daniel’s name like it has two syllables instead of three. Dan-yel instead of Dan-i-el. Suddenly, Max is curious as to how his name will sound if it originates from her mouth, how the syllables will roll off her tongue. Max will still sound like Max. Nobody will mispronounce that name. But Emilian and Verstappen? How will you say it?

“Hi Max.”

The Max sounds plain even though you’re smiling when you greet him. She didn't say Max the same way she said Daniel, whose name was uttered with a certain fondness.

“Hello,” Max’s chin dips slightly into a nod.

“Eat with us,” Daniel invites and he is already dragging a chair from a nearby table to their table before Max can fully register what he’s doing.

“You sure?” you ask, brows raising slightly at Daniel’s abrupt invitation.

Daniel waves his hand dismissively, “Yeah, yeah, Max wouldn't mind. Would you, Max?”

Suddenly, two pairs of eyes are on him and his throat feels dry. He cannot speak. No words leave his mouth. Empty brain, zero thoughts. In the end, he nods and you join the two for lunch.

Max frequently sees you following Daniel in the paddock. You remind him of a dog. No, even dogs do not follow their owners this much. Or do they? Max wouldn't know. He is a cat person anyway.

Max’s main point is this: not even the other racers’ managers follow them around this much. Not even Max’s manager follows him this much. (No one tell Max that this was due to the fact that he scares his own manager. Imagine a middle-aged man scared of a Dutch racer half his age with anger issues.) But you follow Daniel around like he is the sun and you are planet Earth and you need to be constantly revolving around him to achieve universal balance. And for some reason, your actions cause something odd to stir up in Max. He is annoyed. Of what? Maybe because you are so good to Daniel? Maybe he wants someone to be like that for him, too? His manager is not as proactive as you. Yeah, maybe that’s it.

And if you are not with Daniel, which is a rare occurrence, you’re hovering around the Red Bull mechanics. You even go as far as bringing them coffee in the mornings and that annoys Max even more. Daniel, he can understand if you brought him coffee, but the others? No. You don't even bring Christian Horner coffee. Why only them?

Whatever.

You are such a suck up. Max hates suck ups.

Baku 2018 was a bad race, a total nightmare for everyone in the team. The moment Max got out of that car, he was burning. Figuratively, at least. The engine of the RB14 is the one burning, in a literal sense. Horner is red in the face when he sees Max and Daniel, and he yells at them to cool down before they do the formal stuff of apologizing and dealing with the FIA and all the formalities that Max rather thinks are bullshit.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice raising, when he sees you approaching. “Aren't you supposed to be with Daniel?”

“Water?” you offer the water bottle to him and Max knows full well it’s supposed to be for Daniel. Max saw you offering it to Daniel earlier when the two of them stepped into the Red Bull garage after retiring from the race but the older man has declined your offer before stomping off somewhere else to cool down.

“No.”

He is not going to take the scraps of someone else, even though he is thirsty as hell.

You nod, shrugging your shoulders and saying, “Okay.”

You crouch on the floor and put the water bottle in front of him with a neatly folded face towel balancing on top of it. Then, you rise and walk away, leaving Max to glare at your back as you fade away from his view. Once you disappeared from his line of sight, he drags his gaze back to the water bottle and towel.

He drinks the water and then uses the towel to wipe his sweat. At that moment, Max decides that he will never allow himself to be beaten by Daniel ever again.

Max remembers the anger he feels when he discovers the news of Daniel leaving Red Bull.

“Was this because of Baku?!”

Daniel tries to explain his situation as calmly as he can but Max is all fire and flames and fury. He is only hearing Daniel’s words, not listening to them because all that he registers are the words “leaving” and “Renault” and “goodbye” and the rest are all just a bunch of ringing noise. Max knows where Daniel is coming from because he isn't dumb nor naive and he is aware that he is quickly becoming the team favorite, but did Daniel really need to leave?

Daniel’s leaving, Daniel’s leaving, Daniel’s leaving. He’ll have no friends left on the team.

Max’s fear of being left behind is often masqueraded as anger. The thing about Max is that his pain always turns to anger and his anger turns into violence.

He barely registers what he has done to Daniel until he sees his teammate—former teammate—on the floor, eyes wide and clutching his cheek. Max’s fist trembles. They are both horrified at what Max has done.

“Daniel, I—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?!” Daniel scrambles to a stand and lunges at Max. Max fears he’s going to get punched, too, and maybe he deserves it because he is the one who has thrown his fist first, but [Name] appears, quick as lightning, and rushes in between Daniel and Max.

“Daniel, calm down.”

Max is surprised you can hold Daniel down on your own. Daniel was a racer, had been since 2011, so he possessed the physical strength of a veteran racer and you, well, you're not. You’re shorter than them both, too.

Daniel is turning red in the face and fury paints his features. Max wants to fight, answer Daniel’s anger with his own. Fire to fire. Let them both burn until they achieve ruination.

“Nick!” you cry and at the call of his name, Nick appears quickly. “Hold Daniel!”

Your hands clutch Max’s nape and forearm and you quickly drag him away from the furious Daniel, leaving Nick to hold Daniel off and calm him down.

His ears are still ringing. Even after he's dragged away from the chaos. Even after he's brought into an empty room. Even after he sits down on a plush chair, face scarily blank while his mind runs for miles.

The ringing sound disappears when you tap his shoulder and asks, “You okay, big boy?”

His brain becomes a blank slate.

Max nods hesitantly, “Yeah.”

His knuckles are still tingling. He can still feel the remnants of the violence of his fist, can still feel the sting when his knuckles met Daniel’s cheek.

“Injuries?”

Why do you only speak words instead of full sentences?

You scan Max’s face for injuries and Max holds his breath when you lean your face closer to see clearly.

“No—No injuries.”

Your shoulders sag in relief, “Good. Thank fuck. Horner wouldn't be happy if golden boy got clocked.”

You pull yourself away and Max feels like he can breathe again. Then, you pivot on your heels.

“I’ll get you water.”

“No!”

You flinch and then turn to him slowly, your eyes growing wide and mouth falling slightly open. Max mirrors your surprise. You blink at him. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then, your forehead creases and you close your mouth.

“No need to yell at me,” you mumble but Max hears it loud and clear and now, his anger is spiking up again.

“Fine, go!”

You raise a brow at him, giving him a long look. A sigh escapes your lips. You leaned against the door, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why aren't you leaving?”

“You don't want me to,” you say in a know-it-all tone.

“I told you to go!”

“What you want and what you say are two different things. Don't worry, I’ll stay for as long as you need.”

Max doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he sits there in the silence with his thoughts and he can already feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He’s sure you noticed that he’s trying not to cry, not with you standing in front of him. Max always makes weird faces when he forces himself not to cry.

But then you turn your back on him, not to leave, but to give him the privacy he needs.

His tears fall silently.

The 2018 WDC was Lewis Hamilton, who garnered 408 points by the end of the year. Max finishes in fourth, only after the Ferrari drivers, Sebastian Vettel and Kimi Raikkonen. The world thinks it is not a bad result. Max is still young and he’s battling three WDCs for points. But Max thinks otherwise. Winning is number one. The rest is just losing. The only thing he knows is he's not good enough. Jos is thinking of the same thing, too. He knows it.

Everytime someone congratulates him, Max has to bite his tongue and fake a smile. He can only feel anger, for finishing up fourth. It's like people are constantly reminding him of what he failed to become—a champion.

Red Bull throws an after party at the hotel bar, like they do at every Grand Prix, but Max chose not to go so he can drown in his own bitterness in the privacy of his hotel room.

A series of knocks on the door disturbs his ongoing rampage. He is sure it is his manager who’s behind the door. Archie possesses a horrible habit of appearing when he is not needed and not appearing when he is.

“What?!”

“Open the door, sour loser.”

That's not Archie.

Max’s jaw tenses. He marches towards the door and aggressively throws it open. It is you who stands behind it, an unimpressed expression printed on your face. Why is Daniel’s manager here?

“Who are you calling a loser?”

You sigh, peering your head in to look at his hotel room. You wince.

“Horner is not gonna be happy with how you trashed everything,” you begin. Max may or may not have thrown things across the room, punched a table and the wall, and accidentally broke a hotel-owned wall decoration. “Did you punch the wall?”

He did. But he’s not going to tell you that. Max hopes you don’t notice the peeling skin on his knuckles—red and angry and bloody.

“Can you leave?” he asks through gritted teeth. He hears you sigh. You do that a lot when you’re around him. Why?

You rummage through your tote bag—cream-colored with peach prints, the same one you wear all year round—and pull out a cold can of beer and a face towel.

“Lemme see.”

You reach for Max’s hand, which causes him to jerk back, his hand going behind him. You pause.

“I told you to leave.”

“Okay,” you shrug. You grab his wrist before he could dodge and you thrust the cold canned beer and face towel into his hand.

“Put this on your knuckles,” your tone leaves no room for further arguments. “Danny’s worried ‘bout you.”

“If he’s so worried about me, he shouldn't be leaving me,” Max snaps.

“Have you tried listening to his reasons?”

“Of course, I did!” Max is offended that you even feel the need to ask him that.

You purse your lips, “Maybe you did listen, just never tried to understand. I’d do the same thing, too, if I was Danny. No need to stay in a place where we’re no longer wanted.”

Max opens his mouth to bark back. How dare you utter such nonsense? You only stayed here for a year! ? You will never understand the relationship between Daniel and Max. You will never know Daniel the same way Max knows him.

“He isn't going to win anywhere else. We are going to get a new engine and the car will be better than this year. We’ll be better than Ferrari or Mercedes. We’ll be champions.”

I’ll be a champion, but Max leaves it unsaid.

“I know, heard it from the mechanics,” you shrug. “Maybe Danny won't win in another machinery. Maybe he will. Who knows? But if the team wanted Danny then that’s better. A team that wants and prioritizes Danny will treat him better than any team could. And right now, that's what he needs, a good team that supports him well.”

“Red Bull prioritizes him, too.”

“You're lyin’ to yourself, you know it. You of all people should know how shitty it feels to be number two and Danny is number two right now.”

Silence.

Number two. Cursed number two.

“Are you gonna follow Daniel, too?”

Max will not be surprised if you do.

You shrug.

“Let's wait and see.”

Then, you turn around and walk away, the soft click of your beige flats echoing in the hotel hallway until it fades into silence, while Max stands there at the open door, a cold canned beer and a face towel in his hand.

He uses the face towel to wipe the blood on his knuckle and uses the cold canned beer to help soothe the pain of forming bruises. Max wishes you brought something to ease the pain in his heart, too.

2019

The 2019 pre-season begins with Christian Horner saying that Archie, Max’s incompetent manager last year, has submitted a resignation letter. That makes Max Verstappen officially manager-less this year.

“For this season, since Daniel is no longer with us—” The corner of Max’s lips curve downwards. “[Name] does not have anyone to manage anymore. I was thinking of moving her to the engineering team but she was too efficient at managing Daniel last year. Would you mind if she becomes your manager? I assume you're both friends?”

Friends is not the appropriate term to describe what they are. Sure, they talked because Daniel talked with Max frequently and wherever Daniel was, [Name] is closely behind. Daniel also has this habit of dragging everyone into the conversation so no one will be left out. They also engaged in banter a few times, when Daniel’s not around and Max and her do not bother tolerating each other for the sake of the Australian racer.

For the most part, when Daniel is present, [Name] become the nicest person to ever grace the room, even Mother Teresa is put to shame, but when Daniel’s gone, [Name]’s saintess act disappears and enters an asshole who'll argue with Max and annoy him to oblivion. She absolutely vexes him.

Also, she's a terrible suck up. Max hates suck ups.

“She’ll be good for you,” Horner adds.

“Do you believe so?”

“I know she can handle you.”

Max raises a single questioning brow, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Nevertheless, Max has no choice. Horner believes she’ll be good for him and Max prefers having her as a manager than having none at all. God forbid he’ll be stuck manager-less. He can barely organize anything to save his life.

Even though they're not perfectly civil with each other, Max cannot deny the fact that [Name] is a good manager. It is like she possesses the uncanny ability of knowing everything Max needs without having him to voice it out and you do it without Max having to ask you. Which works greatly for Max. He really isn't the best at asking what he needs and people cannot mindread so he just sucks everything up until a simple thing gets blown out of proportion and he ends up blaming someone else for a problem that should have been solved had he voiced it out in the first place.

“PR sent me this,” you walk into the room early in the morning and Max groans because he’s still dealing with the hangover from last night so he cannot deal with your annoyingness right now. Despite hearing his dilemma, you put the iPad on the table and Max sees a picture of him drunk as fuck in a bar somewhere in Barcelona. He winces, looking away and not bothering to read the caption.

“They want you to clear shit up.”

“What's there to be cleared about?”

“People think we're datin’, darlin’. That's what you need to clear up.”

Max’s eyes go comically wide. Him and [Name]....dating? A blush graces Max’s cheeks.

You swipe down and show Max a video. The clip shows you walking out of the bar, warding off people with a passed out Max on your shoulder.

There are two things that immediately entered Max’s head at that moment:

Wow. You're really strong.

What the fuck? When did this happen?

“I’ll get you an Advil and soup. In the meantime,” you open a word document on your iPad. “You read this. Prepared a script ‘cuz you can’t improvise shit. We’ll film a press release vid when I come back, aight?”

You are gone before Max can even nod his head.