#if i need experience. but i need a job to get the experience

[moondirti]

featuring: ghoap x nanny! f!reader. parenthood. adoption processes. fluff. slice of life. reader is given an age range

hear me out: simon and johnny transferring to reserve duty – i.e., serving the military on a part-time basis rather than being on active call – once they make the decision to become dads. it comes after a long period of deliberation (and healing on simon's part), but after they're absolutely sure that they want to start this next phase of life together, they call price to get it sorted.

who is thrilled for them, naturally, but warns that they still have a specialised commitment to the task force. if he needs them, then they best make sure they're there. the world isn't a better place yet, and no one can do what the pair does.

fine by them.

so it begins. instead of the complex and ethical choices that come with surrogacy, they opt for adoption and work with an attorney to facilitate the logistics. months of searching come up with a young mother, whose unwanted pregnancy has interfered with her life thus far, and is unwilling to make the further sacrifice that comes with keeping the baby. they must be more understanding, or otherwise less overbearing, than the other candidates – because two months later, they're in a hospital waiting room, anxiously lingering to meet the new addition to their family.

isla riley-mactavish. named after the river where johnny realised he'd be much happier with his lieutenant by his side.

the first few months are bliss. exhausting bliss, but a type of contentment that neither man has known since they first confessed to one another. isla's fussy through nights but they take turns settling her down, and if they have military duties to attend to then it's usually never at the same time. she's spoiled rotten – not just by them, but by the captain and gaz as well, who visit more often than not with bags full of toys they have nowhere to put. a little princess in the eyes of everyone who knows her.

by month five, she's teething and can hold her head up unsupported. simon reads somewhere that it's one of the most pivotal points in her development.

of course the call has to come then.

in the middle of the night, no less, and loud enough to wake her up from her crib. johnny scrambles to calm the bairn down as simon answers, price's grave voice crackling in from the other end. expected to be a long haul. a month at least. state security's at serious risk here, simon. i wouldn't ask you to come out otherwise.

and they made a promise. no matter how much it aches them to leave their darling girl behind.

rdv on base in a week.

he knows that one week is a matter of grace. he can feel the captain itching to hatch the operation as soon as possible, but has staved off to give the boys time to order their affairs. that doesn't mean simon's happy with the timeline, though. seven days is not nearly enough to find a sitter they can trust, especially given their own hindrances.

regardless, they send a job posting for a live-in, 24/7 nanny to close friends – no way in hell are they advertising it to the open internet – and hours later, johnny's sister lets them know of a girl who substitutes at the same primary school she works at. a real darling, apparently. honest 'n' stowed oot of energy, th' weans love her, and she haes experience with bairns too!

promising, but word of mouth isn't enough. they get a name and ask laswell to run a thorough background check. to their relief, it comes out squeaky clean. no arrests, no dui's, no shady travel history. modest socials with only a handful of followers. it's in line with what they know so far, solid enough to encourage them to reach out. so they do: just a brief email, asking what time and place would be best for a face-to-face interview.

they bring isla with them to the agreed meeting spot. a cozy cafe nestled in one of the safest parts of town. it's an early saturday morning and they're scheduled to leave in three days. so far, they've put all their eggs in this basket. johnny has to hold onto simon's hand when he notices the nerves dancing behind his partners usually void eyes. but if he were being honest with himself, he's just as scared.

they notice you as soon as they walk in.

sitting at a table for four, mug of coffee steaming as you bend over a well-loved book. despite your preoccupation, you're observant – they inch in your periphery and your head snaps up, a brilliant smile parting your lips as you spring up onto your feet. simon tallies a point on the ledger in his head. good. alert is good.

as is true for them, it's abundantly clear that you're who they're supposed to meet. johnny can't imagine anyone but a children's educator dressing like that: a gingham babydoll dress over a pair of blue tights, which carries over to the bow in your hair and is juxtaposed by the white oxford lace-ups on your feet. he startles when you extend your hand to shake his and he finds a painted fruit on each of your short nails. positively adorable. and so unlike anything they know.

simon shuffles next to him. isla reaches out from her bugaboo stroller, the colours having caught her eye.

"well hello there! aren't you just the cutest angel i've ever seen? do you like my dress?"

that's another point for immediately engaging with the object of your soon-to-be care. simon watches as you pull out a rattle from your purse, handing it over to the cooing baby. warmth blossoms in his chest, and his apprehension fizzles out in the heat. they hadn't told you they'd be bringing isla – opting to catch you off guard and seeing how you'd deal – so he assumes you carry the toy around for emergency purposes, like anyone else of their ilk would carry a gun.

something about that quirk just screams safe.

"it is a nice dress." johnny pursues, voice smooth in that way it gets when he's flirting but doesn't want it made clear. it took weeks for ghost to attune himself to it – he always just thought the scot spoke like that – but now that he's able to hear it for what it is, he shoots him a cautionary look. not so much mad as he is cautious. wouldn't want to scare her off.

"oh! thank you very much. it's my grandmother's design." you straighten up once isla gains a proper grip on the rattle, patting the skirt like you're basking in the praise. "shall we sit? i assume you have a lot to discuss, and i promise you'll want to try the maple scones they make here."

"please. after you." simon nods.

an hour later, you're giggling into your palm as johnny deviates into a story of the time they took isla to the hospital because they didn't know the soft spot on her head could pulse. simon is quiet in contrast, though not displeased. rather, he's focused on keeping the tally of all the green flags you've exhibited thus far. he doesn't mind that the conversation hasn't followed a typical interview format. in fact, people are more likely to show their true nature when in relaxed settings such as this, which is perhaps why johnny hasn't stuck to the script of questions they'd prepared beforehand. the man is better at social manoeuvring than simon is, anyway. he trusts him to direct this where it needs to go.

"it can be freaky! especially if you've never been around a child that young. i had a similar reaction the first time i babysat my neighbour's infant at sixteen. did you know that they can break out like teenagers? i noticed the poor thing's skin erupt in acne at just a month old and called his parent's crying." you wheeze, wiping the tears along your lashline.

"have ye worked wi' many bairns?"

"oh, yeah. it's been my primary source of income since secondary, all the way through uni. i just finished a master's degree in early childhood education, actually! and i wrote a list of referrals you can call if you need to double check on any of that." you rummage through your purse and pull out an apple-shaped sticky note. "do you mind if i ask what you do? people don't usually look for a full-time nanny unless they're really busy. not that i'm judging! i would ne–"

"military." simon interrupts, ensuring his tone is gentle enough to reassure.

"that makes sense! i mean, for an indefinite amount of time, the pay you're offering is more than perfect. above industry standard, really." you pause, brows furrowing like you're doubting whether you should have said that. "ah– whatever. anyway. isla is wonderful, just the sweetest. and the provided accommodation is an added plus. if you guys have no other qualms, then i'd love to accept the position."

"does i' bother you that there are cameras on the property? porch, kitchen, and living room. jus' for security's sake." simon tests, though he knows he doesn't need to, for extra measure. to someone with bad intentions, CCTV is a massive dealbreaker.

you don't hesitate before answering. "makes total sense! you guys are well within your right to check in at any time."

and they don't have to consult each other to know. johnny is practically buzzing in his seat, muscles flexed with enthusiasm as his gaze flits all over you. lingering on your chest in particular, before he looks over to simon and smiles in an offensively handsome way. simon can't help but smile back, crinkling his eyes more than necessary so the both of you can tell what's going on behind his mask.

it feels a little too good to be true, hopeful in a way that sets off the alarm bells in his head. he's stable enough to recognise that it isn't your fault, though. stable enough not to pin his distrust on you. this is likely the best shot they've got at ensuring their daughter's safety while they're away, and it's come in the form of a vivid, bright little blessing.

(with great tits.)

he'd be a fool to sabotage it.

johnny beats him to the cause. "ye'r hired."

[maxwellatoms]

Hello Mr. Atoms, I'm an animation student in college and fan of your work. I got this assignment in which I need to ask questions to a professional in the area. Could you pretty please answer them? It'd mean a lot to me.

1- Are you happy with your career? How it's going.

2- What are your opinions, expectations and hopes about the independent animation industry that's developing?

3- What do you think about the advent of artificial intelligence? Do you fear for the future of animators?

4- If money wasn't a problem, would you still do what you do?

5- Any animators you admire and would like to mention?

Okey dokey.

1- Are you happy with your career? How it's going.

Not really, in that there seems to be no career left.

The animation industry swelled its numbers greatly before 2020. Almost immediately after that, corporate greed synergized with a pandemic to reduce animated programs and the number of people working on them to almost zero. It takes almost a year from beginning to end to make a single episode of an animated show (by the modern standard). There was nothing being made in 2020 and four years later, we''re not in a much better spot. It's going to be a long drought for (especially) Kid's TV Animation.

Recently, many of my former co-workers have hit the financial wall and can't continue, moving away after (sometimes) 20 years in the industry. I begin to wonder if I'm very far behind.

A "bounce back" a year from now would need to start today. There are still some animated shows being made now, but those are almost universally "library" properties. That means it's an existing I.P. (Intellectual Properties like Garfield/Mario/Batman/Star Wars) so as an artist you're immediately in that box. Depending on the property and the studio, it can be an unpleasantly tight box. I grew used to holding and maintaining the vision for a show, but it's less fun when it's not my vision. It's even less fun when you can't inspire someone to follow your vision because they've been so ruthlessly abused.

I'm pretty sick of how big media corporations treat their employees. If I inherit one more burnt out crew due to mismanagement, I'm gonna lose it.

Over a decade ago I fought hard to get board artists story credit for the episodes they were actually writing, and felt like I'd won a big victory for everyone. The second my back was turned, it all reverted.

Mostly... what is the point now? My career is/was developing ideas, crafting those ideas into a workable show, then managing teams of thirty to seventy people to produce a couple of dozen episodes per year. Studios actively do not want new ideas right now, and are actively searching for ways to eliminate what artists from the process. I'm not sure what my job would be under this new system, but it feels like they decided to hang onto the anxiety-inducing deadlines while removing anything remotely pleasurable from the experience.

2- What are your opinions, expectations and hopes about the independent animation industry that's developing?

It's the only way to get anything done, currently.

The current state of the industry is not sustainable. I (along with a lot of other animators I know) are trying to decide what's next, and pretty much everyone agrees that "you just have to make something".

It is (in that very specific way) a great time to be a young animator. The system was never going to treat you well anyway. If you can get something like a Hazbin Hotel happening without studio help, you can currently write your own ticket. I'm super proud of Vivsie, because that's a LOT of stuff to handle. I never had to handle my own marketing or drum up money to make Billy & Mandy happen.

There are opportunities there, but it's definitely "Hard Mode". The best idea is probably to team up with a few other people you like and like to work with.

Hopes? I hope that the young animators take over and make something new on top of the bones of the old industry, rather than just allowing that industry to patch its rotting hide with their collected works.

3- What do you think about the advent of artificial intelligence? Do you fear for the future of animators?

I suspect true AI might just peace-out like ScarJo in "Her", but we're not there yet. What we have now isn't Artificial Intelligence at all (though I do believe it may be the underpinnings of the Artificial Suconscious of what may one day become an actual Artificial Intelligence.)

The LLMs and "Generative AI" are (so far) a big dumb waste. They consume tons of energy and aren't great for doing anything creative. If you've sat down with Chat GPT for a creative writing session, you've probably run into the "out of the box" limitations which prevent it from talking about sex or violence-- which happen to be a major component of most stories.

Still, the technology has come incredibly far in an incredibly short amount of time. I imagine we're going to hit the point where we're being hazed by artificially generated political ads way before Generative AI can produce a consistent and usable character turnaround, so that'll be the test. Whatever the legal fallout is from this stuff over the next few years will set the tone.

Still, studios have a vested interest in pleasing their shareholders. Generative AI potentially has the capability of not only replacing swaths of money-eating artists, but handing that control directly to the billionaire studio heads. Mark my words: We're headed straight for billionaire-generated content.

I don't think the public at large will want to watch Elon Musk's fever dreams, so there's that. So law and general distaste might stave it off for a while, but I think there's just too much impetus for studios to continue to try to please their investors. "AI Art" is here to stay.

Eventually that will lead to millions and millions of bots generating millions and millions of songs and paintings and movies all day every day. Most of it will be utter trash. Right now (so I'm told) viewers are already burnt out, and will generally only click on what they already know. On Netflix, where there are twenty things you've never heard of and one you have, you're more likely to pick the thing that gives you comfort and gives you a guarantee you're not wasting your time. With exponentially more A.I. trash, how would you even begin to filter it out?

You'd need absolute control of an already existing distribution system. We currently have a few of those, and all of the media companies are desperately trying to merge with them to insure their own survival.

To me, the post-Gen-AI landscape looks a lot like old-school Cable, but with endless I.P. and fewer masters.

4- If money wasn't a problem, would you still do what you do?

The real question is, maybe, "What am I even doing?" These days I try to do a lot of gardening. I'm trying to learn new art skills, because suddenly twenty five years of experience managing, drawing, and writing isn't worth much. I recently worked on Jellystone until Zaslav lost 2.5 billion in the wash and had to find justification for his new yacht. The show before that? Also culled midway through to save money. The days of multi-year gigs seem to be over, and if I'm going to scrape by doing freelance, maybe I can do that somewhere else.

I'll always make art. I can't seem to help it. Ideas aren't my problem-- it's executing those ideas without the help of a structured pre-existing system. I honestly don't know if I'll ever be able to pull that off. My strengths are great, but were always supported by friends I worked with.

Can I start an indie cartoon with all of these cool friends? Sure, maybe. Most of those people have gone on to have other careers of their own and got used to being paid. Now nobody is getting paid and no one can pay anyone else. My immediate circle are all now middle-aged people with families and no jobs. Convincing them to give up a large chunk of their day for an idea that's not guaranteed to pay off is going to take some real effort.

I technically have fifteen years until I can claim my "retirement", assuming that still exists by then. That's a pretty big hole to fill with... I don't know what.

The difficult "What comes next" discussions at home are really just starting.

5- Any animators you admire and would like to mention?

There are a lot of cool animation people out there. I already mentioned I was proud of Vivsie. I was also reminded recently just how great C.H. Greenblatt and Mr. Warburton are. I know they're my friends. They're both just really upstanding, creative people who take good care of their crews.

The treatment of animation industry professionals by the studio system has been one of the most demoralizing and heartbreaking parts of this demoralizing and heartbreaking time.

---

So there ya go. If you want to look for someone whose attitude is a little more upbeat, I won't blame you a bit.

Wherever you are, I wish you the best of luck. For me, just climb up there and crush it. I would very much like to add you to #5 someday.

[inkdrinkerworld]

hi! i saw you were taking requests for post prison spencer, so hey

i was thinking about spencer meeting a kinda sunshine reader, and it’s like…love at first sight. she’s literally the one to make him smile for good

feel free to add your magic to it, and to ignore it, don’t feel pressure at all!

have a good day/night <3

babe you guys are saving my life with these requests right now! I'm feeling so good about everything I write again <3 enjoy sunshine!reader x post prison!spencer who looks less tense and serious around you

You’re at his desk, sitting there all perfect in your orange button up and flared pants, Mary Janes clicking on the linoleum tile as you tap your pen against your lips. Your hair is scraped back into a ponytail, the plait brushing the spot between your shoulder blades. 

Spencer had asked about you to Penelope, asked about your personality, about how you work- all the important things. What he didn’t ask was if you were gorgeous and Penelope, who loves to divulge, had never said a thing about your looks. 

“Hi, you’re Y/n right?” Spencer’s standing before you, not realising how intimidating he must look till you jolt in your chair. 

You’d been trying to get your morning crossword and read in before the day had officially begun, a habit you’d been trying to keep up with since you started the job. So far it’s been going- the crosswords are boring so you have to pretend to be distracted by it to let it last a bit more than four minutes.

“Oh sorry, I am. You’re Doctor Spencer Reid,” you lean back in your chair, not bothering to hold out a hand to you. Penelope had grilled you on his aversion to germs and touching people more than needed. “I’m sorry about taking over your desk, but they didn’t have any free ones.” 

Spencer shakes his head, you take a moment to look him over. His hair is a bit looser than you’d imagined, Penelope said curly hair and you’d thought tight spirals- he has pretty loose ringlets, dark and mocha-like.

He smells like leather and something else, maybe plum and black currant- it’s a bit of an all encompassing smell that you like already. He’s much prettier too, he looks tired, but still pretty. His stubble presents a problem, you know it’s going to be your downfall. 

“It’s alright, we keep a tight ship. Have they been treating you well?” 

You tilt your head, “The team or the unsubs? Because it’s been too many cases to have real team building.” You grin when Spencer huffs, making his lips twitch. “But I think getting concussed while saving Newbie’s ass counts for something.” 

Luke grumbles as he walks by with his coffee, “You were hired after I was,” patting Spencer on the back when the taller, lithe, man rolls a chair to sit opposite you. 

“Do you still experience headaches or migraines?” Spencer kicks himself when he sees your tongue poke into your cheek- you’re trying hard not to smile at his question. He also thinks he’s doing a shoddy job of flirting but that can be fixed- he’s been in prison for the last three months, he just needs to get back in the swing of things. 

“I’m pretty sure your first official day back starts with you in Emily’s office and not giving me an impromptu physical, Dr. Reid.” His lips twitch again, cheeks jumping as he shakes his head. 

“It’s just a check-up, no physical yet.” he stands, not really giving himself time to overthink what he’s just said. It’s more than a little presumptuous on his part but you don’t call him an asshole or swear at him, so he thinks he’s okay with it. 

“Do you want your desk back, Spencer?” you’re earnest in asking, not wanting to fuck up his routines and his norm. You can tell you like him already and it’s hardly been a fifteen minute conversation. 

“No, it’s okay. I’ll take the one right there.” Spencer points a finger to the desk right in behind yours with a little less severity to his lips, his stubble looking even more attractive as he does so. 

You watch him walk away, willing yourself to be professional about all this, he may be hot but he’s your coworker and you know all about close proximity relationships possibly being shams. You’re not here for that, so Spencer will be a good friend. 

You make your way into the kitchen, steps light as you reach for your mug- a cute blue mug with an orca as the handle. 

“So you come in and the kid’s already obsessed with you?” Rossi’s right beside you, making you jump as you put more than the recommended amount of tablespoons of coffee into your mug. 

“It’s not like that, you all made him out to be this awkward shy mess and he isn’t.” You try to sound as casual as you can, but you profile your own voice and know how it sounds to everyone- wistful. 

“Maybe he’s seen a pretty girl and the ‘awkward shy mess’ melted away,” Rossi places his hands on your shoulders. “He’s a good kid. You can trust in that.” 

You roll your eyes, stirring your coffee. “I’m pretty sure he’s in his thirties, Rossi.” You take the milk from him, pouring it in till your coffee is just at the lip of your mug and smile. “Definitely too old.” 

Rossi waves his hand, “I’ve been married four times, old isn’t a marker for romance anymore. Not when you’re only twenty four.” He leaves you be for a moment, and on your walk back to your desk to fill out the remaining crosswords you mull over his words. 

As you sit, you look down and find it all filled out in black ink, opposed to your blue and you know who did it, if the messy scrawled message is anything to go by- ‘You should get The Washington Post puzzles, much more stimulating.’

[wintrwinchestr]

obedience | part 2

summary: a week ago, you and joel had experimented with a new kink, and it’s been on your mind ever since. you had been too shy to ask to try it out again, but joel always knows exactly what you need.

warnings: 18+, smut, daddy kink, pet play (egregious use of “puppy”, joel teaches you dog commands and refers to your hand as your paw, among other things), d/s and ddlg relationship dynamics, praise kink, degradation/dumbification kink, cockwarming, edging, unprotected piv sex, creampie, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, etc), talk of reader wearing a collar, joel giving reader a bath/washing her hair, hella aftercare, reader has hair and can be carried by joel, implied age gap but reader is an adult, let me know if i missed anything!!

word count: 5.7k

a/n: literally nobody look at me please. this the most self indulgent self insert shit i’ve ever written in my life and if you get it you get it idk what else to say!!! anyway thank you for being patient with me and reading what i write, my big girl job takes it out of me sometimes but that’s what i write this type of shit to deal with <3 nice comments and reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed or if this awakened something in you :)

(read part 1 here if you missed it)

dividers by @saradika

“You want Daddy to train you, babygirl, you wanna be his pretty lil’ pet?”

It had been a week now since Joel had punished you, denied you for acting out over the phone, for disobeying him and sending him lewd photos of yourself when he had explicitly told you to stop. But you hadn’t listened, he wasn’t having it, and when he had returned home from work late that night, he had called you by a new name. Puppy, he had spat at you several times as he made you chase a ruined orgasm on his steel-toed work boot. 

The pet name hadn’t left your mind since then, repeating itself over and over, along with his question of if you wanted to be trained, if you wanted to be his pet. The more you thought about it, the more you found yourself becoming desperate for it. Each day in the office was a struggle to stay focused on even the simplest of tasks, your thoughts overrun with fantasies of Joel getting you on all fours for him, giving you commands and praising you for following them, tugging you towards him by a finger hooked into a collar to tell you what a pretty puppy, what a good girl you’re being for him.

You’d left work every evening for the past several days with a damp spot in the seat of your panties, feeling ashamed by how depraved and inappropriate almost every one of your waking thoughts had become. When you would greet Joel at the door all needy and wanting, he would tease you with a “What’s gotten into you, lately, hm?”, but never push for more than you were willing to reveal to him, though he thought he might have had an idea. He would take you to the bedroom and have his way with you the way you liked, the way you had usually craved, before he had turned your world upside down by deciding on a whim to try somethin’ new that fateful night. 

Joel would be more than willing to try it again, to follow through with that question he’d asked you, but he decided he was content with waiting for you to come to him, for you to decide when you were ready for him to make you his good puppy once more.

–

The weekend begins just like any other. Joel’s internal clock wakes him up no later than seven in the morning, the sun just barely streaming in through the blinds in your shared bedroom. He tries to keep his creaks and groans to a minimum as he rolls out of bed, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead before quietly padding his way into the kitchen to get a sizable pot of coffee brewing. He lets you sleep for another couple of hours, knowing full and well at this point in your relationship that he has the wrath of your grumpy morning attitude to face if he doesn’t. He does think it’s cute, though, how your face twists up into a pout but your eyes stay scrunched closed if he wakes you up at a time you deem too early.

When Joel does decide it’s a sensible time for the two of you to get a proper start on your generous two days off from the slog of your weekday jobs, he cracks the bedroom door open gently, making his way over to your still-sleeping form. He softly brushes some of your knotted hair out of your face as he places your mug of coffee on the nightstand beside your head, prepared just the way you like it. Whatever happened to good ol’ fashioned cream and sugar? Or just plain black, for that matter? Can’t believe you like it with all this cinnamon vanilla whatever you have me dump in it, he had teased, not long after you had first started sleeping over at his place. Can’t believe you drink it without anything in it. It needs at least a lil’ somethin’ sweet in it, you had bantered back to him, to which he was quick to reply with Got my somethin’ sweet right here, don’t I? before pulling you into his lap and kissing you hard until both of your cups ran cold.

You smile at the memory in your half-sleepy state, slowly blinking your eyes open to see Joel’s warm and familiar smile. “Mornin’, sweet girl,” he says, his grin only growing wider when you greet him back with the cute little squeal that comes out when you stretch your arms over your head instead of an actually intelligible word. “Got some emails and borin’ stuff to catch up on this mornin’, why don’t you just stay comfy and sip on your coffee while you wake up for a bit, hm? Probably be done in time to get lunch together somewhere, how’s that sound?”

“Okay, Daddy,” you reply softly, real words this time, as you push yourself up to sitting while Joel props your pillows up behind you for your back to rest against. You don’t put up much of a fight against the yawn that stretches your jaw, rubbing your blurry eyes as it does.

“Alright, gimme a kiss, sleepy girl. Enjoy your creamer with a splash o’ coffee,'' Joel taunts through a chuckle. He presses his lips to yours, and his coarse beard tickles the skin around your mouth, making you giggle. The smile hasn’t completely faded from your face by the time he slips out of the bedroom to head into his office, shutting the door gently behind him.

Extending a hand down to your nightstand, you hook your fingers through the mug’s handle and slowly bring it up to your face, careful not to spill any. He’d chosen your favorite Daddy’s Girl mug, the phrase written in bold pink text curved over a little illustration of two blue daisies. You always thought your coffee tasted a little better from this mug, somehow. Taking your first sugary sweet sip, you think the sentiment is as true this morning as it’s always been.

–

A little while later, when you feel somewhat more awake thanks to plenty of caffeine and sugar working its way through your body, you finally force yourself into comfortable clothes different from the ones you slept in. With your hair sufficiently tamed, face washed, and teeth brushed, you decide now’s as good of a time as any to try and act on the plan you’d been concocting over the past couple of days, waiting for a moment just like this to pounce on.

You still felt too shy to bring it up to Joel, to tell him how badly you’ve been wanting him to treat you like his little pet, and go even further with it this time. You know he’d never judge you for it, and he had seemed to like the experiment just as much as you did. But something about your little fantasy still felt taboo and shameful, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to use your big girl words and ask for it.

Though, you had finally realized, maybe you didn’t have to ask for it. Maybe you could quietly tip toe into his office one lazy Saturday morning and sit at his feet, nuzzle into his thigh until he brings a hand down from his keyboard to scratch behind your ear, asking you What’re you up to down there, babygirl?

And that’s exactly where you’ve found yourself now, answering his question with a dreamy whimper, leaning into his touch as the feeling of his fingers on your skin makes you smile so blissfully, wiggling on your knees.

“What’s got you feelin’ so snuggly this mornin’, hm? Just need some lovin’ from your Daddy?” he asks in his still-rough morning voice, gazing down at you affectionately.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, wrapping your arms around his calf and rubbing your cheek against the soft leg of his sweatpants.

“Alright, lil’ thing. Just got a couple more emails to take care of and then I’m all yours, promise.” He removes his hand from your scalp to start typing again, and you pout in protest. 

Joel shoots a stern look down to you. “Poutin’ don’t typically get us what we want, now does it? Be patient, sweetheart, just a few more minutes.”

You release another upset noise, louder this time, and then he’s pushing his rolling chair back, your grasp around his leg coming apart as he does.

“Came in here actin’ so good and sweet, where’d this bratty girl come from, hm? If there’s somethin’ you want, gotta use your big girl words and ask for it, you know that,” he scolds, his expression becoming more serious.

You hadn’t meant to elicit this reaction from him at all, and it causes your eyes to well up as you stare at the carpet, avoiding his gaze. Opting to answer him with just a shrug, you fidget with your fingers in your lap to distract yourself from the sting behind your eyes. You do attempt to open your mouth and make your desires known to him, but think better of it, and any big girl words you did have swirling around in your brain are replaced by yet another half-hearted little whine.

A whine that sounds… a little familiar to him. 

“Oh, I see…” Joel muses, a little less authority in his voice as he assumes a more relaxed position in his desk chair. “I think I know what’s goin’ on here.”

You look up to meet his eyes, tilting your head in confusion. The action prompts his lips to tug into a knowing smile, and he leans forward in his seat, making a beckoning motion with his hand. “C’mere, baby. Between my legs.”

You obey immediately, crawling towards him to close the small distance between you, settling in a kneeling position between his spread thighs. “Good girl,” he praises, and the words make you beam as he cups your chin, the moisture that had been blooming along your water lines now forgotten.

“Think I know why my sweet girl ain’t usin’ her words with me this mornin’...” Joel says, scratching at the soft skin under your chin with his fingertips. You can’t help but lean into his touch, lashes fluttering, and it’s enough to confirm his suspicions.

“Reckon it’s because puppies don’t know to, hm? They just whimper and whine for attention from their Daddies cause they don’t know how to talk, ain’t that right?”

You let out a pathetic little noise when he finally says the word, the one that’s been dampening every pair of panties you own for the past week, but that you’d been too scared to ask to hear again. But you were right after all, you didn’t have to ask for it, because Joel always knows just what you need, somehow.

He uses his grip on your chin to nod your head up and down for you, and continues talking down to you in that gravelly tone of voice that makes you feel like you’re about to melt straight through the floor. “Yeah… ‘F you wanna be Daddy’s lil’ puppy this mornin’, tha’s alright with him. Figured you oughta be missin’ it by now, seein’ as how you liked it so much the first time around…”

You’re barely processing what he’s saying, your lips slack and eyes unblinking as your cunt releases little pulses of slick into your panties. Something about Joel seeing through you so clearly, calling you out on your newly discovered kink and using it to pull you hard and fast into this familiar saccharine headspace, has your whole body burning hot with arousal. 

“And if I know one thing about puppies, it’s that they need some trainin’, don’t they? ‘Specially impatient ones like the pretty thing I’ve got sittin’ at my feet. Don’t you agree? Don’t speak, just nod, babygirl.”

It’s unusual for him to request a nonverbal response, as opposed to a Yes, Daddy, but you’re grateful for the change as you allow yourself to fall deeper into your role. You give him what he asks for, a couple of eager nods in quick succession, even though you aren’t quite sure where he’s going with this yet.

“Asked you twice to be good and patient for Daddy, and all I got was poutin’ and whinin’ instead, didn’t I? Think my lil’ pet oughta learn her first command today: Wait. Because good puppies know how to wait for their treats, don’t they, sweet girl? Again, just nod for me.”

And you do, slower and with a little more guilt in your expression this time. But despite him making you admit to your disobedience, you’re not sure you’ve ever been more fucking soaked than you are right now. You’re throbbing, aching, shifting on your knees in an effort to get even the smallest bit of relief. You think you might be releasing little whimpers, but you can’t be sure, already feeling so floaty and far away from just his words alone.

Joel spots your desperate movements, a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He shifts in his chair, adjusting for his own arousal, and gets an idea.

“On second thought… Got another command I might like to teach you first. Somethin’ a lil easier for that dumb puppy brain of yours to understand, hm?” He tilts his head at you, lips curved into a mocking pout.

Your eyes flutter and roll to the back of your head involuntarily, his degradation prompting the instinctual response from you. Another syrupy slow nod lets him know you’re ready to learn, to obey to the best of your ability.

“Alright, sweet thing. When I say paw, want you to put your hand right on my knee here, ‘kay?” Joel explains, patting his muscled leg for clarity. “Paw, baby, gimme paw,” he coos at you, his tone not dissimilar to the one he uses to speak to actual dogs. 

Forcing your brain to work through the dense cloud of submission that shrouds it, you lift your hand and place it on his knee, just like he had demonstrated. His enthusiastic reaction to your obedience startles you at first, but you break into a beaming grin when you see the proud expression he wears.

“Good girl, tha’s a good girl,” he praises, scratching at the top of your head and ruffling your hair. Using his touch as a distraction, Joel places your paw over his hardening bulge with his unoccupied hand, the thick shape of him prominent through his thin sweatpants. He tightens his hand on top of yours, prompting your fingers to squeeze him. He guides your hand into massaging him for a second or two more, long enough for your melted puddle of a brain to connect with the nerve endings in your fingers. Your breath hitches when you realize what it is you’re feeling, your blissed-out expression morphing into a more desperate, wide-eyed one as you focus your attention to the movement of your hands.

“Yeah, feel that, sweet girl? Feel what you do to Daddy by bein’ so good for him?” He prompts, and your thighs squeeze together as you grope him. You can’t help but draw your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down on it to stifle the needy whimper that threatens to escape.

“You wanna sit on it, pup? Hm? Wanna keep Daddy’s cock nice ‘n warm while he finishes up his work?”

Your aching cunt squeezes around nothing at the premise, and you nod so hard it makes you dizzy. You move to push yourself off the floor and stand up, but a firm hand on your shoulder stops you.

“Ah ah, gotta use your words this time. Speak, baby,” Joel commands, and it takes you a second of searching to find the ability to do so again.

“Y-yes, Daddy, wanna s-sit on it…” you answer softly, and you’ve never heard your own voice sound so wanton. It comes out in a pitch that you almost don’t recognize as your own, featherlight and dreamy and desperate all at once. The need in your voice alone is enough to satisfy him.

“Good girl, just learnin’ all kinds o’ tricks today, aren’t we? Trainin’ you so well… C’mon up here, babygirl,” he permits, and uses his big hands and sturdy forearms to assist you in your awkward and eager climb into his lap. “Take it out, baby, get your treat.”

You whine as you situate yourself atop his thighs, tossing your head back with a dramatic flair, overwhelmed and frustrated by all he’s been asking of you. You just wanted him to turn your brain off, to praise you, to not have to think while he plays with you however he wants, and instead all he’s been doing is asking you to listen, sit, speak, obey. But of course, you should know better by now, that Joel likes making you work for it, to wait for it.

“Hey,” he scolds, grabbing your face and pulling your head forward from where it had flopped between your shoulder blades. “You were doin’ so well, bein’ such a good, obedient girl. Don’t start actin’ up on me now. Could always change my mind, not let you have your treat after all. You want that?”

 “No, Daddy…” you admit, your words distorted through the way your cheeks are squished together. He’s not using much force, just enough to keep your focus on him. 

“‘S what I thought… Go on then, pup,” Joel commands, and you make quick but clumsy work of freeing his already leaking cock from the loose confines of his sweatpants and briefs. He lets go of your face in favor of placing both of his hands on your hips, lifting you up while you pull your loose shorts and panties to the side, maneuvering his length to just barely prod at your wet little entrance. You flit your eyes from where the two of you meet back up to meet his gaze, hesitating while you look to confirm your permission one last time.

“Sit, puppy,” he says through a smirk, and you release a sharp whimper as you sink down onto his cock. 

On instinct, you bury your face in the warm expanse of skin between Joel’s neck and shoulder, rolling your hips back in preparation for a satisfying buck forward. His grip on your skin turns iron, holding you in place and preventing you from chasing after your pleasure.

He cuts off your pout with a strict, “I say you could move?”

“Mmph– No, Daddy,” you mumble into his firm muscle.

He huffs a mocking breath through his nose. “Really are jus’ a dumb lil’ thing for me, ain’t you? You already forget what you’re ‘sposed to be learnin’?” “‘M sorry, Daddy–” the embarrassment from his demeaning words makes you squirm, and his grip on you becomes bruising.

“Don’t need you to be sorry. Jus’ need you to listen. You’re gonna wait like a good girl ‘til I say you can start grindin’ that messy lil’ puppy cunt on me. We clear?” he orders, his deep baritone traveling straight from your ear to your needy core, the dark thatch of hair at the base of his cock already damp as a result.

You hug yourself closer to him, little fingers clawing at his t-shirt in an attempt to ground yourself, and nod meekly.

“Speak,” he spits again.

“Y-yes, Daddy, clear…”, you whine, managing to lift your head up just enough for your voice to come out a little more coherently.

“If I let go so I can finish up my work, you gonna behave and hold still for me?” 

You don’t seem to have a choice, but you agree, anyway. “Mhm, yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Now wait,” Joel instructs.

You aren’t sure how much time passes, the incessant clicks and clacks of Joel’s keyboard and mouse becoming more and more irritating with each passing second. Those sharp mechanical sounds, the vibration of his chest against yours whenever he clears his throat, the feeling of his pulsing cock as it splits you in two, it’s all so fucking much. You can’t help but release little whimpers and whines, pathetic pleases and Daddys that he either shushes or chooses to ignore. Any slight movement you make in an attempt to relieve some of the ache, he just responds to with a coo of wait, pup, and the tone of his commands as you twitching, clenching around him, soaking his cock more and more. It has to have been at least fifteen or twenty minutes by now, and at this point you’re sure he must be clicking around his desktop aimlessly just to drag out your training a bit longer.

Eventually, the noises stop, and Joel breathes a sigh as he replaces his large hands on your hips, their touch much more gentle this time. You lift your head from his shoulder to face him, wide and watery doe eyes frantically searching his face for a sign that the wait is over, that you’ve finally earned your treat. 

He grants you a soft smile, lifting a hand and using it to just barely grasp your chin, tilting your head side to side as he admires you.

“Got such a sweet girl in my lap, don’t I? Knew she could be good, just needed a lil trainin’ hm?”

You nod, already feeling so overwhelmed that your mind has started to drift elsewhere, to the relief you’ll hopefully be feeling in just a few minutes, after he’s finished toying with you.

He releases your chin, ghosting his hand downwards along the column of your throat, stopping when his thumb and fingers are resting on the tops of your collarbones. He doesn’t apply any pressure, just admires the placement of his hand for a moment, then hums.

“Neck would look so pretty with a collar wrapped around it, don’t you think, pup? With a lil’ heart-shaped tag danglin’ from it, engraved with my name so everyone knows that you belong to me? That you’re my puppy, hm?”

Fuck.

The sentiment alone, the domination and ownership of it all, has you crying out your most pathetic noise so far this morning, eyebrows peaked with need as you bite down on your lip so hard you think you might’ve drawn blood. Joel predicts your reaction, clamping down on your hip with his other hand to stop you from moving before he’s decided you’re allowed to.

Again, you nod, willing to agree to anything and everything he wants from you if it means you’re getting closer to getting what you want from him, what you need.

“Say it, baby,” Joel demands of you, his voice calm but commanding.

You tilt your head at him, humming a confused little noise, but he doesn’t elaborate. “Say it, c’mon,” he repeats. Your foggy brain is on a second or two delay, but it catches up eventually, and you realize what he wants to hear.

“I’m y-your… ‘m your puppy,” you say, softly, your voice tinted with embarrassment. 

“Wha’s that, sweetheart? Didn’t quite hear you. One more time for Daddy.”

You swallow hard, inhaling a shuddering breath before repeating the phrase a little louder, with a little less control. “I’m your p-puppy, Daddy. I’m your puppy, ‘m Daddy’s–”

“Yeah, y’ are, fuck.”

He moves his hand from the base of your neck back to your hip, and uses his strong grip to hold you still while he begins a series of sharp but rewarding thrusts in and out of your swollen cunt, each one seeming to hit deeper and deeper inside you. Falling against him once more, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face into him while you let him fuck into you like a doll. His movements are quick and desperate as he growls an incoherent string of filthy praises in your ear, his words accompanied by the sloppy wet sounds of skin on skin.

“Perfect girl, Christ, tight lil’ puppy pussy feels so fuckin’ good, always feels so fuckin’ good. Such a good girl, such a good goddamn girl for Daddy.”

The harsh bounce of your body in his lap jostles every last one of your thoughts from your brain, and he relishes in the animalistic cries and yelps you mumble into the flesh of your upper arm, now damp with your drool. He must feel the moisture as it pools underneath your face and wets the thin fabric of his t-shirt, because then he’s laughing at you, spewing more obscene words at you as he spears you up and down on his cock.

“Shit, are you fuckin’ droolin’ on me, sweetheart? Got this messy cunt and that pretty mouth both soakin’ me, Christ. This cock make you that dumb, hm? You Daddy’s dumb puppy?”

You are, you both fucking know you are, so you agree and repeat it back to him to the best of your fucked-out ability because you know it’s what he wants to hear. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to hear it too, the self-degradation lighting your whole body on fire as some of that heat forms itself into a tight ball in your tummy. 

Joel’s hips begin to stutter, his hold on you starting to falter, complete sentences turning into sharply whispered expletives as he nears his orgasm. He can feel you squeezing around him, notices the telltale sign of your muscles tightening and your breathing coming out in short bursts, and uses that four letter word against you one last time.

“Not yet, babygirl, don’t you fuckin’ come for me, not ‘til I say. Wait,” he spits through gritted teeth.

You were so ready, just teetering on the edge of your orgasm, all you needed was a few more jackhammering thrusts and you’d be careening down the steep cliff of it. It takes everything in you to hold it in, to not let go. But you’ve been so good for him, and Joel doesn’t have it in him to torture you much longer, and he permits you to finish just a few minutes later.

“Alright, come, puppy, come for Daddy,” he orders, and you spasm in his lap with a debauched cry, that ball of heat in your tummy dispersing through your bloodstream, igniting every one of your nerves and sending sparks flying behind your eyelids. He reaches his high at the same time, spilling his release inside of you the way you both like.

It takes a few moments for the both of you to come back into yourselves, heaving chests eventually matching each other in a more relaxed rhythm. Joel softly scratches at the back of your head while you place delicate kisses mindlessly along his neck and up behind his ear.

“You were so good, sweetheart. Always take everything I give you so well,” Joel quietly praises next to your ear. He touches his lips to the side of your head, then your temple, then gently maneuvers your face so that he can press a final kiss to your forehead. Your eyelids flutter open in response, and your lips tug into a sleepy grin as you focus on his face. “There she is, my beautiful girl.” He sweeps a few tangled locks of hair away from your face, and even though you know you must look like a mess, you let him admire you anyway.

“Still up to go out for some lunch? After we get ourselves cleaned up ‘n all,” Joel asks, shifting his gaze down to where his spend leaks from you, staining both of your clothes a darker color and dripping onto the fabric of his desk chair.

You pause, chewing on the inside of your cheek for a bit before shaking your head.

“No? Tha’s alright, sweet girl, don’t blame you one bit. You’ll still let Daddy get you cleaned up though, won’t you sweetheart? How’s about I run you a bath with some o’ that new flowery bubble bath you just got, hm?”

You light up at the premise, nodding eagerly, and Joel flashes his handsome smile at you in return. “Alright, hang onto me, baby,” he says, and you wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders as he scoops you up and carries you to the bedroom, his softening cock still nestled inside you. The two of you detach when he sets you down on the small, handmade wooden bench adjacent to the tub, and leaves only for a moment to retrieve your favorite pink blanket from the living room. He wraps it around your shoulders when he returns, and starts the bath for you. He makes sure to squeeze a generous amount of the bubble bath into the roaring stream of water, ensuring that the bath is sufficiently fragrant and relaxing.

When the tub is full, with mounds of white soap bubbles threatening to spill over the smooth porcelain walls, he helps you strip out of your clothes, tugging your bottoms down your legs as you remove your own top over your head. Joel offers you one of his hands to steady yourself with as you step into the bath and lower yourself into the steaming water. It feels perfect, because just like he knows exactly how you take your coffee, how you want to be fucked without you having to ask, he also knows the almost-too-hot temperature of bathwater you prefer. 

He allows you to wash your own body, while he uses the cup you keep by the tub to douse your hair with water, using his rough fingertips to massage your favorite coconut shampoo into your scalp. You’re almost done scrubbing yourself by the time he’s raking conditioner through your damp ringlets, and then he’s rinsing you clean, the humid air in the room now smelling like a dozen different flowers and fruits, all of them mixing together to smell definitively like you. It’s his favorite scent in the whole world.

You don’t exchange many words during your bath, mostly enjoying the intimacy of the activity in silence. The action alone is enough to let you know how deeply the two of you care for each other, how much you trust and love each other.

When the water eventually runs cool, Joel helps you out of the slippery tub, and wraps you in one of your plush bath towels, a lighter shade of pink than your blanket, but just as soft.

“I’ll let you finish up in here, and I’ll see about orderin’ us some delivery, hm? I’ll get you whatever you want, and we can throw on a movie to watch while we eat, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds good, Daddy,” you reply, the bath leaving you feeling refreshed and more like yourself, able to find your voice again.

You settle on ordering your favorite fast food, and it arrives shortly before you tiptoe your way into the living room, your wet hair now pulled up into a clip while the rest of you is dry and comfortable, wrapped in a soft lounge set and your cozy blanket.

“There she is, the Poky Lil’ Puppy,” Joel teases, removing your containers of chicken tenders and fries from the plastic bag they arrived in, setting them on the coffee table in front of the couch.

You giggle at his quip, settling down on the cushion next to him. “I’m not… poky, or whatever,” you reply, in a tone of voice that isn’t sure if you’re supposed to feel complimented or offended.

He looks at you in minor disbelief for a second, then moves his head and brows in a gesture that suggests something like touché. “It’s the name of a kids’ book. Written a lil’ before your time, I guess.”

“Oh… I’ll take it, then.” You settle against Joel’s warm, sturdy form as you munch on a fry, watching the TV screen as he flips through the most promising of the half dozen streaming services he’s subscribed to. “You know…” you start, but let the rest of your sentence drift away, not sure if you want to continue.

“Yeah, babygirl?” he replies, and it encourages you to finish your thought.

“I really liked, um… what we did today. Earlier,” you continue, doing your best to push through your shyness in an effort to get better at communicating your desires with him.

Joel pauses his browsing, putting the TV remote on the table so he can meet your eyes. “In my office, you mean?”

You can’t help but smile cheekily at the memory. “Yeah… I really like being called… that, I think. And if you don’t think it’s too weird–”

“Course I don’t, sweetheart. Would never judge you for likin’ what you like. If it makes you happy, makes you feel good, if it ain’t hurtin’ anyone, then there’s nothin’ wrong with it, baby.” Joel’s turned his upper body to face you now, to make sure you understand the sincerity of his words.

You smile, and his reassurance gives you the confidence to continue. “I really like that… collar idea,” you admit softly. “Maybe we can try that next time.”

He tucks his tongue into the pocket of his cheek, his face forming into a satisfied expression. “Thought you might. Keep bein’ Daddy’s good girl, he just might get you one. Maybe a matchin’ leash, too, somethin’ to tug on when I need you to listen.”

Your eyelids perform their involuntary flutter, a quiet whimper escaping your lungs at the thought. 

“Alright, settle down now, baby,” Joel says through a chuckle, shaking his head before kissing the top of your head affectionately. “Got all the time in the world to try whatever we want. Just focus on eatin’ your lunch for now, sweetheart.”

You snuggle up close to him after he starts the movie you both decided on, happily eating your salty and savory meal as you watch. For the rest of the afternoon, you feel warm and satisfied for a few different reasons, the most important one due to how grateful you are to have Joel.

He takes care of you, understands you, and loves you like nobody else ever could. And it’s mornings like these that make you especially aware of that fact. You’ll be his good girl for as long as he wants you to be–forever, hopefully–and he’ll always give you exactly what you need in exchange for it. 

Even if that something might be a collar with his name on it, fit for his perfect little puppy.

tag list (no pressure if this one isn't your thing!!) @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw (if your name is crossed out it won't let me tag you!!)

[myvampyrez]

I’m the sephiroth hc anon, yea I was referring to the sfw and nsfw, sorry for not specifying :0

sephiroth (n)sfw hc’s 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

sephiroth (ffvii) x reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

guys the motivation is coming back to me TRUST ME i’m slowly but surely working on it.. 🙏🙏

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

post nibelheim sephiroth being jealous, possessive, a little toxic and manipulative, mentions of sephiroths touch repulsion and touch starvation, nsfw will have a warning before it, intended lowercase, lmk if i missed anything!! 💕

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❥ soooo!!!1!1!1

❥ let me start off with pre-nibelheim headcanons because i miss a more domestic and ‘normal’ sephiroth rather than.. crazy seph lol

❥ so now let’s get into the actual thing!!

❥ i do not think that sephiroth is familiar with love whether it’s pre or post nibelheim, and if you read up on my angsty / comfort sephiroth fics you’ll see how i love the portrayal of where he’s so beloved by his fanclub and the public due to being a, “war hero” despite not feeling any close love like how you’d love him. the closest he’d get to developing emotional attachments would be his relationship with genesis and angeal (and maybe zack).

❥ it’ll take a while for sephiroth to fully trust and put his faith in you, but he’s actually very mature about romance. he doesn’t get very jealous and he’s very confident in your relationship and bond, if you read up on my jealousy hc’s i explain more there!!

❥ and when he really trusts you.. he’ll even let you perform his hair care routine on him when he’s too tired to do it himself. as you’ve seen, his hair is absolutely gorgeous and while he spends like an hour in the shower on just his hair— he spends more time when he’s out the shower as well with all the after product 😭.

❥ he enjoys having you brush his hair in the mornings and if you have long hair, he’ll return the favor. nothing’s better than sephiroth’s gentle hand cradling your head as he softly brushed through your strands, trying his hardest not to snag too hard on any tangles. if you’re comfortable with it, he’ll even hop in the shower with you and wash your hair for you. he’s not ashamed of nudity, he finds it a very normal and humanizing experience— knowing you can still be so vulnerable and not have it be sexual. he loves when you wash his hair for him too tho, it’s just super long so it’ll take a while lol.

❥ i cant see him as a morning person. i saw a post that he said, “sephiroths not a morning person, he’s a ‘im up because I have to be but if anyone talks to me, there will be murder’ person.” and i totally agree with that. you’ll wake him up, mentioning how he reminded you to wake up him bright and early tomorrow yet there you’d be, shaking his shoulder gently and he mutters a plea of five minutes more before pulling you closer.

❥ i definitely think that you guys would have to keep your love life private considering his job unless you’re like.. around angeal or maybe genesis. possibly zack, but you guys would have to make him promise that he wouldn’t tell anyone because he’d literally be so shocked. otherwise he’d go run to kunsel and brag about his knowledge or be so jaw dropped that he runs to angeal and is even more shocked when he already knows??? like, was he the only one who didn’t know about this whole thing??

❥ it’ll take a while for sephiroth to get comfortable with physical touch. although he secretly yearns for it, he’s also touch repulsed sometimes. it’s not that he’s appalled by you or your touch, it’s just that he’s gone so long without it that it’s foreign to him. once he gets used to it, he’ll eventually search for it and come looking for you in need of just some head massages or even just to rest his chin on your shoulder and view whatever you’re doing. he kinda does what cats do when they nuzzle the sides of their heads into your chest and like rub their noses into you.

❥ i’d like to think sephiroth’s very meticulous, so if you ever invite him in doing an activity such as baking or art or something, he WILL have to do it right or else he’ll get frustrated.

❥ as aforementioned, seph isn’t well versed in healthy love or adoration so if you even do a small task for him such as doing a chore he planned to do or cooking him pasta when he comes home— it will make him feel all gooey inside even if he won’t show it. he’s always calm and collected but, “even the coolest of people try their damndest to be alright,” as i mentioned in one of my headcanons for cloud lolol. he’s appreciative of even the small gestures, always making sure to thank you for your efforts as he knows they’re filled with love.

❥ for post nibelheim, though.. he’s lowkey manipulative. if you knew him before he found out about the jenova project, i’m assuming you’re only with him in hopes that he has some humanity within him that you can restore— well, that or you just like crazy men lol. he will definitely use that against you as a way of making you stay, always promising he’ll change after completing his plans with you by his side.

❥ if you met him post nibelheim though, he’ll be utterly fascinated with you as you’re basically his new toy. and he’ll follow you, regardless of when you met him. he’ll never let you leave his side after he’s gone crazy as he’s constantly reassuring you that his mothers legacy will be fulfilled, and that he can only do that when you’re beside him with support. it almost feels like it’s a shell of sephiroth. he never does any of the things he used to do before he was aware of who he really was, he’ll barely even let you touch him. he’s constantly on guard whenever you two are out, always keeping a hand around your waist or shoulder so that you don’t run off.

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NSFW BELOW ꨄ︎

❥ id like to think of pre-nibelheim sephiroth as a soft dom. always being gentle, even when you’re sucking him off so nicely that he can’t help but grip your hair— he always makes sure not to pull it too hard and instead bites on his hand until there’s marks. he’ll always cater to you too, treating you like a pillow prince(ss) and is literally at your beck and call. he will not tolerate brattiness though and will definitely punish you if needed!! he’s just so kind, it’s only fair that he reciprocates the same words you give him :(((

❥ i don’t think sephiroths that experienced, but i don’t think he’s a virgin either. he doesn’t have the time to pursue intimate relationships, but he’s definitely experimented with one or two of his fangirls or something. he sort of regrets it now, considering it wasn’t all that intimate.

❥ like i said, it’ll take a while for sephiroth to even get used to physical contact let alone initiate it, but once you guys do finally have sex, he is literally the sweetest. he’s probably a little rusty lol but he’s a very quick learner!! guide him and teach him how to make you feel good, it makes his chest swell with pride once he gets you making those cute little sounds :(((

❥ let me tell you this man is huge though. he’s around nine to ten inches in length and he’s a big girthier than average. he has like two prominent veins, one on the underside of his shaft and one on the left side. when he cums, it’s a pretty pearly translucent color and right before he blows it beads at the tip as he tries to hold it in.

❥ sephiroth would like to think that there’s a possibility that you two could have kids, although his duties and reputation (and future events..) kind of prevent that. so i think there’s a breeding kink in there somewhere, but if you’re not okay with it then he’s totally fine!! it might sting a little if you don’t want kids, but in the end its your body, your choice— and he will respect that!!

❥ if you’re a virgin, he’d like to make your experience worth while and makes it very clear to you that he’s beyond honored to have been your first. he’ll even place you on the softest satin pillows while he gently thrusts into you, interlacing fingers and slowly pinning them against your head while he watches for your expressions. if you get shy or look away, he’ll always let go of one of your hands to redirect your chin back to him with a soft, “look at me, darling.”

❥ he relishes in the soft sounds of your giggles, watching as you look over the display he set up for you with roses and a meticulously made bed for you, a trick he had learned from genesis once when sephiroth had been too worried of not being able to satiate your need for intimacy. seph would lift you gently, giving you a small kiss and carefully maneuvering his way to the sheets before ceremoniously laying you down beneath him. he savors these lax moments during sex, not just the serious ones.

❥ post nibelheim is a little iffy, he’s definitely more possessive and aggressive when he’s having sex. he’s also very condescending with his words, i can sense a dumbification kink somewhere..

❥ as i’ve said before, post nibelheim seph won’t let you out of his sight most of the time. so he’s so possessive that if he sees you talking to someone else in public, once you find your way back to him, you’ll have wished you never greeted them. he’ll mercilessly press your face against the mattress or table or whatever you guys are on, and talks about how silly it was for you to talk to someone so casually when you clearly knew he was watching.

❥ i don’t think he’d let you top him that much, maybe once in a blue moon would he let you act like you have control over him— but the moment you get too cocky, he’ll remind you of who really has the most control once he grips your hip dips and flips you over, catlike, vindictive mako eyes glinting in the shadows of his body.

❥ again, i’m sorry but it’s the truth, also a little manipulative. post nibelheim sephiroth would accuse you of talking to other men or wanting them to satisfy you instead. he’d grit his teeth and roll his hips even harder— claiming he’d just have to show you how much he’s ruined you for other people. they are but boys but he, he is a man. and he’ll make sure you know that by the time the day ends and the sun seeps through curtains.

❥ pre sephiroth makes love, post sephiroth fucks. there’s a huge difference.

[twost3ps]

Lucifur is gonna be in a pit of a pinch....

A sneak peek into more of my Scott Pilgrim au!!!

Still tweaking their designs but this is what I've got so far!!! This is a sketch and not final >>>>:(

:3

But let's goooo I just need to choose one more character >>:3 to make the 7

I've gotten a few suggestions so far:

Alastor- it would be funny. Just so funny. And it makes Lucfir question when and how. it's brilliant. Idk how their dynamic would work for this one. Or when really but I'd still consider it o3o

Alastors mom- same as alastor, it's funny. And then it also let's me make lucifur fight Alastor so instead of a 1v1 it's a 2v1. Alastors mom is super scary :)

Valentino- not a lot of history, but it makes the roster start off easy. Possible hilarious character interaction. For one, easy win and second, fast punching bag. Still thinking about the dynamic, but for sure Adam and him have a rocky relationship which let to him to further solidify his hate in sinners and how irredeemable they were also some platonic holydust excuse

Dumah -angel of vindication, and I'm making him Azraels twin brother. He and Azrael will have similar scenarios. When they picked up Adam from earth, he kinda found them kinda hot. Both are ruthless and do share a similar sentiment about sinner, Dumah more so because he's the one judging them. He def hates Luficur and thinks he's pathetic and is not taking his job- the one God so graciously gave him- seriously at all. Even after the fight, Dumah would still not respect Lucifur all that much

Satan- assuming that they meant Satan, as the sin of wrath, makes Luci question again how Adam was able to do this this whole time. Adam got with him, like Mammon, by chance during an extermination. I don't think any of the sins actually care for the exterminations- they're not their people. Why should they? It implied that Lucifur didn't either until Charlie expressed her desire for redemption. Satan liked Adam's wrath and fighting spirit. Thought his weapon was cool too. He could feel all the anger and hate in Adam and was intrigued. Adam thought Satan was really cool too. Also pretty hot and both kinda get off on how much rage they have and their destructiveness.

Still considering:

St. Peter- guys. It's funny. Promise. It's the 'he was a punk, he did ballet' and Lucifur is surprised how they even got together in the first place. He's watching them and wondering what pulled them together. Peter is just glad to see that Adam is actually alive and not dead once he's brought into fight. Lucifur thinks it's gonna be easy before St peter reveals that he's actually a UNIT. Adam and St Peter got together because Adam was sent to train him to gaurd the gate. Yes, Peter is there to let ppl in, but he was also placed there as a surprising first line of defense. They train and ig one thing led to another over time and they got together. So when Luci fight him, he's very shocked at how capable St peter is

Lute- again, I still think that they have a funny father and daughter dynamic but then a saw malaierba's tags and it opened my eyes a bit and made me reconsider putting her on the roster. Adam was Lute's experiment relationship. Dated for like a week, at best, before Lute said "nah I'm gay" and it felt weird for both of them cuz they really just saw eachother as family. Lute is mad protective toward Adam and the fuel of believing that Lucifur is the reason Adam is in hell makes her all just a bit (very) more feral

Depending who I choose will moved them up or down the roster but eyyeyey

Im still open to suggestions!! I might retract the limits I said before just in case.

If I still can't choose, I'll open a poll or something :p

Next post will prob be about the background of everyone else on the roster so far o3o

[marchoftimes]

I want to hug every person out there with a harsh moon-saturn aspect. A person with this aspect likely went through some hardships in areas of childhood; especially in regards to the relationship with their caregiver/mother. Their caregiver (usually the mother) could have been emotionally distant therefore being unable to provide proper nurturance a child needs. Maybe the mother herself was dealing with her own emotional distress during her pregnancy or after the child was born. I’ve also seen people with this aspect (including my own experience with this aspect) who had a caregiver that struggled with some sort of addiction or that the child was a witness/victim to some form of abuse. Facing poverty is also something that’s commonly seen. Because of the lack of warmth in their upbringings, this could heavily impact one’s sense of self worth. They end up internalizing the mother’s actions/words or lack-thereof believing that the reason their caregiver is so distant (whether it be emotionally or physically) or acted that way towards the child was because of something they had done.

Building solid and healthy relationships for these people is quite difficult as well. They have to learn how to accept other people’s warmth and nurturance and allow others in. Because it’s so foreign to these people to be on the receiving end of things, they could entirely self sabotage or have this innate belief that they’re unworthy of recieving another’s loving gestures. Many moon-saturn people feel that they need to take on the role of both the mother and father and step into a place of needing to be responsible for everyone and everything. They are often the most mature within their families and amongst their peers. They need to realize that it’s not their job to carry the weight of the world and that they’re only responsible for their own words and actions. They often have very depressive thoughts that causes them to dwell or deeply ruminate. Sometimes they have very rigid perspectives and see things through a black and white lens and have distorted beliefs. It’s almost like they have a weighted blanket covering the mind, and a chain wrapped around their heart. Because of their commonly cold upbringings, these people have a hard time healthily expressing their emotions. They may often feel numb or scared to express how they really feel.

Some common misconceptions people make about these folks is that they’re incapable of being emotionally open, that they’re cold and have no heart or that they’re too in their heads (the last one might be true lol). These people haven’t been dealt the greatest cards and they need to establish a sense of trust within themselves and between them and the other before they feel open to express how they’re truly feeling. They’ve build walls around themselves to keep their heart protected. You won’t be able to win their trust easily, it takes time (saturn). They likely care about you but are reluctant to showing it because they fear rejection or dismissal. Many people also think these people are boring or are somewhat robotic. Moon-saturn people likely weren’t allowed to act on their childlike qualities or really delve into their interests due to growing up so fast because of the kind of environment they experienced in their upbringing so their expression is somewhat diluted. These people are silly and have a side to them that is playful and lighthearted and they have incredible interests that they usually express when they’re by themselves. It takes time for them to fully open up; it requires patience.

Here are some things a moon-saturn person can do to work with and hopefully overcome this harsh aspect:

Therapy (CBT, DBT, Trauma therapy, Somatic therapy).

Allow yourself to do things you weren’t allowed to do as a child.

Work on reframing the mind.

Work on getting out of scarcity mindset.

Do things that bring you joy and make you smile/laugh.

Write a gratitude list.

Talk to trees/plants/animals. They’re the least judgmental of all living things.

Create a space that’s comforting for you.

Journal.

Develop a healthy sense of self worth (You can use affirmations, express yourself how you want, tell yourself you’re deserving of good things, meditating, practice self compassion, accept yourself for who you are, etc.).

Get a ESA/service pet.

Write letters to yourself.

When faced with difficult situations, find the lesson within them.

If your family adds stress to your life, set boundaries with them or fully cut them off.

Find community (there’s community all around).

Write down the beliefs you have about yourself and look at them from an objective POV. Recognize how harmful they might be.

Work on your relationships. If you have friends and they’ve stuck around, there’s a reason they’re still there. Open up and allow them in. The right ones will stay in your life.

If in a romantic relationship, openly express your love for that person. Don’t hold back.

Make time once or twice a month where you and your partner can sit and openly discuss how you guys feel within and about the relationship.

Eat a hot meal.

Find new hobbies!

[neverniko101]

Trying to convince my brain that I cannot make another ask blog (it is not working help)

Anyway, a swapverse! Phastasmverse? Is that too hard to spell?

Uh

Yeah, I might be making another ask blog, probably on an actually different blog this time

I’ll probably alternate between working on this and Horror Dreamtale between STP

Rambling about precious children ⬇️

Amber (Dream by Joku):

- Tall bee man

- Smug asshole

- Got rich off selling his brother’s inventions

- Runs a fancy multiverse-wide Casino/Bar/Restaurant

Pollen (Dust by Ask Dusttale):

- Sweet little guy

- I say “little”, but he’s actually pretty tall

- Botanist obsessed with flowers

- has never killed anyone

- ever

- especially not by poisoning them with flowers

- Terrified of bears, even teddy bears

Cyan (Nightmare by Joku):

- Acts scary but is really a goofy little guy

- Mad scientist/engineer

- Uses inventions to run mazes, haunted house etc. to get negative emotions

- Lives in a giant (very, very heavily trapped and guarded) castle by himself

- Mechanical tentacles/arms, Doc Ock style

Epoxy (Ink by Comyet):

- Acts like a goofy little guy but is really scary

- >:3

- Likes to climb Amber and sit on his shoulder

- definitely not some kind of horror that traps people in resin cocoons and drains their life force

Razor (Cross by Jakei):

- After his AU was destroyed, he ripped a hole into the anti void, corrupting him and destroying the remains of Xtale

- Hunts ‘bugs’ in AUs, sometimes destroying entire universes to ensure the bug doesn’t spread

- Memory issues, doesn’t remember most of Xtale

- lonely someone befriend this man

Stitch (Error by Loverofpiggies):

- Runs around AUs taking parts of them to sew into the broken parts of his own AU, Cross-style

- Often accidentally causes bugs in AUs he visits, corrupting/destroying them himself or causing Razor to destroy them

- On the run from Razor

- Can animate his puppets to do little chores

- Fights with a giant sewing needle as a weapon

- Also needs friends

Mist (Fell by Vic):

- Probably the chillest guy here

- It’s his job to make sure that everyone gets enough sleep

- Will be disappointed in you if you don’t go to bed on time

- Has several pet bunnies

Comet (Outer by 2mi127):

- Angry little guy

- One of two employees at the Multiversal Transportation and Postal services

- Runs exclusively on coffee and baked goods provided by Cookie (the only person he can tolerate)

- Can take you basically anywhere, but you’d have to convince him to do so, which is difficult even for Cookie

- Catches on fire when too angry

Azoic (Fresh by Loverofpiggies):

- Mercenary

- Unnaturally good at making improvised weapons

- Is a cowboy? Don’t know where that came from

- Has a horse named Penelope

- Trying to earn money

Toxin (Killer by Rafbawas):

- He seems fun

- Perfectly mentally stable

- Eats the fabric of the multiverse

- Turns people into mindless rainbow zombies

Marrow (Horror by Sourapplestudios):

- Bounty Hunter

- Able to switch out his body parts with other monsters and humans

- Pretty chill all things considered

Crypt (Reaper by Renrink):

- Uh

- what

- what is that

- just some guy that Palid decided to adopt?

Palid (Geno by Loverofpiggies):

- His name is a mix of Pallid (being pale or dull, like a dead person or ghost) and Paladin (a hero)

- Kind of adopted Papyrus’ personality after his death

- Precious little guy

- Finds Crypt in an ally and is like “yup I’m keeping him”

- Fights with a morning star

Ghost (Blue by Popcorn prince):

- Sad boy

- Able to manipulate water, especially his tears

- Has started following Razor around for no apparent reason

Cookie (Lust by NSFWShamecave):

- Again, just a genuinely nice person

- Runs a bakery!

- Obsesses over people easily

- Can and will give you a hug

Sweettooth/Ttoo (Ccino by Black-Nyanko):

- So high energy (as a result of experiments, probably) that they need to almost constantly be eating high-energy food, typically sugar

- Trying to find a cure along with their best friend, Cookie

- When low on energy, will start to melt and attack any nearby source of energy, including souls

help

[shun-nie]

SatoSugu x gn!reader

-> you're usually calm and have a stern personality, it's not often people see you laugh or act playful. Satoru and Suguru may be an exception though.

Warnings(not really😔)!!! Just fluff, no use of Y/N

After dealing with curses all week and getting soaked because the sky decided to pour its tears on you while you were on your last mission of the week, a mere human can't help but need their 17 hours of sleep. Now, you were usually a light sleeper, always opening your eyes at the slightest sounds to see Gojo Satoru(and unfortunately your boyfriend.) stealing your hoodies in the middle of the night or Geto Suguru(unfortunately you boyfriend too.) getting on your bed beside you beacuse he couldn't sleep.

You were now sleeping silently like some kind of decomposing corpse, probably in your 47th dream where curses doesn't exist. A very peaceful dream. Of course, this peace disappeared after a heavy thing that could compare to a fat bear suddenly fell on you.

You cursed under your breath and opened your eyes, then closing them again beacuse of the blinding sunlight shining on your face. You could hear a familiar annoying voice laughing quietly against your skin, well, you would groan and push Satoru off of you like you normally would but didn't had the energy right now.

"Rise and shine, sunshine!" Satoru said loudly enough for your ears to bleed, you sighed out and looked at Suguru who was across the room, examining some books on your shelf. He hummed and turned his pretty face towards you, smiling before walking over to your bed and sitting down on the edge.

"You slept a lot, are you sick? You didn't even wake up when 'toru opened the door." Suguru asked, his concerned gaze on your tired looking face. You were staring at him silently, which concerned the sorcerers before you. Well, it was kind of weird watching their normally stoic lover watching them with an unreadable gaze. As Suguru opened his mouth to ask if you were okay again, they were surprised when they saw you smirk in Suguru's direction.

"Hey, were you always this pretty? Or do I have some kind of weird filter in my eyes?"

Suguru was shocked, flustered, confused. Who was this person in front of him? Satoru was no better, he was shocked too but also why were you complimenting Suguru before him when he has the most beautiful eyes in the whole world? Damn, this world is not fair. There was silence for the next minute before you turned to Satoru, the sunlight poured on him, and he looked like a rare diamond under the light. Well he still looks the same to you, guess you don't have any filter in your eyes that could compare with Snapchat.

"Damn, go away. I feel like shit next to you two, lookin' all pretty in the damn morning huh?" Okay. Serious question. Who the fuck?

"Alright. Who are you and what have you done to my baby?" Satoru said, placing both of his cold hands on your cheeks. You could say he was flustered, maybe beacuse you know him much more than anyone or maybe beacuse he is a dumbass when it comes to you and Suguru. Speaking of Suguru, he was still speechless. Well, he knew you could act like a dork in the mornings or when you were tired but never had he heard you compliment him with such lovestruck gaze. He came to his senses again, looking at Satoru who was slapping your cheeks softly while you were smiling like a dork, he chuckled at the sight and kissed your cheek.

"I'm being serious, you need more sleep." Suguru said softly, it was nice to see you being open and letting yourself enjoy the moment. Your lives were difficult, and all three of you would probably prefer a normal life. You took your job seriously and you turned into a tough person because of your experiences in your life of being a sorcerer, it was hard to get to you through the walls you put around yourself. Suguru felt happy. He felt happy that you finally let them in. He felt happy that you trusted them enough to show them your bright colors.

He felt happy, in love.

"No. I don't know you and I'm taken." He heard Satoru say before he started to whine as you pinched his cheeks.

"By who?" You had a playful grin on your face, Suguru chuckled at the sight of you teasing Satoru.

It was going to be a great day.

.

.

.

(I forgot I had a blog ngl)

[v3lv3tsin]

my oh my | sim jaeyun

pairing: sim jaeyun x reader | genre: enemies to lovers | warnings: angst, minors dni | word count: 1.2k | stefy's note: this is a collaboration between me and @chericherilvr , we found this fanfic writing site and well decided to have some fun, so enjoy :)

[ BACK TO MASTERLIST ]

You never liked working so that's when you decided to apply for a more risque job that hired people with no experience. Perfect job, right?

Well it seems to be perfect until you met Jake, your worst nightmare. He barely showed up to work and was always bullying you. It's like he hated you, but you barely knew each other. Maybe it was the wat you smiled at him or his annoying grin. You couldn't figure it out and when you actualluy thought you did, you didn't.

One day, your boss decided to make you do the unwanted, pairing you up with Jake. Why him? You thought to yourself. All he did was care about his work and ignore the other colleagues. It was infuriating you to say the least, but you had to do it. Even if you wouldn't want to be anywhere near him. He was trouble and not the kind of trouble you wanted to be involved with.

Time couldn't go slower, maybe this was Crono's way of making you suffer after not getting his name right on last night's trivia game. Spinning a pencil around, staring at your project partner, counting to ten over and over again to not punch Jake in the face. His stupid, smiling, beautiful face.

"You don't get paid to stare at me, sweetheart." The pencil almost snaps when he decides to smirk, "but i mean, if you go out with me i'll do both of our jobs." Jake winks at you, his smirk only growing and licking his lower lip once he sees your glaring eyes. It's the moment when you have to remind yourself about professionalism.

4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10...

"Thank you, but i'll have to reject the kind of offer." Your voice dipped with poison and sarcasm behind your smile. "How instead you stop calling me that."

He shakes his hand, leaning forward closer to your desk. "Okay, how about, darling?"

1, 2, 3, 4...

"No? Okay, how about..." He pauses for a brief moment, leaning a bit away before holding his head between his hands.

5, 6, 7, 8...

"Babe? My love? My world? Princess? Honey?"

9, 10, 1, 2...

"Stop!" Your hands point towards all of Jake. "Flirting, stop this, whatever it is."

The motherfucker Jake decides to chuckle at your cringing face. "Sorry, babe, old habits die hard." 3, 4, 5, 6. You stop counting when you hear the pencil finally snap in between your fingers. "I don't know what you're trying to do here, but whatever it is, it needs to stop." You say annoyed, being fed up with all his flirty comments.

"Haven't you heard of magic, darling?" His voice dripping with sarcasm. "If you think going out with me will end up in me being a serial killer, don't worry. I'm not interested in killing you anytime soon, only with my charm." The moment you heard his flirty voice, you lost it. All the counting from your head starting again just so you could focus on what you're actually supposed to do.

"Let's focus now on the actual work, which is actually about magical rituals." Both of you looked at the document in front of you, filled with several photos of corpses that have been mutilated or decomposed. This sent chills down your spine. "There's a killer on the loose. Name. Yang Jungwon. Burned down his orphanage, killed his classmates and roommate." You say, giving him more information about the several murders and the killer. "And he has a temper." You whisper to Jake's ear, almost in a mocking way, knowing that when it comes to people that don't deal greatly with anger.

"I can handle him, sweetheart. You won't escape me if that's what you wish for." He says in a cheeky grin, pushing his body closer to yours. He was close. Too close. The only thing between the two of you was the desk, which he could easily move with his hands. Those hands that drove you crazy even if you hated him, you couldn't deny that he was attractive.

Suddenly you hear you boss voice. "What about Y/n and Jake?" Both of you turned your head around, forgetting about the trivia game for a second.

You sit back down on your chair, fixing your hair. Nothing's going on, everything's ok. You nod to yourself. Jake decides to answer for both of you, smiling at your silence. "Orphanages and magic rituals? Is he trying to summon something?" You mumble trying to not roll your eyes.

"Yes, a dick you can suck on." Your boss nods at Jakes words and starts giving hypothesis while talking with the rest of the teams. Lost in thought looking at the files, you don't catch Jake leaning over the desk and whispering in your ear. "Sure you won't like it to be that? Or better, him summoning my hands seeing as you have a big liking towards them?"

You flinch at his voice, a shiver running down your back at the thought. "We don't even know if he's summoning something." You try to bite back and move away from him.

"Do we now, darling?" Jake's words linger on your mind for the reat of the day. The last words, you swear to yourself, not the hand thoughts. Music plays softly and wind comes in through your car window while driving. "Wait! I haven't opened a window?" You shift to look at your left, where the air is coming from, and slam the breaks once you see someone sitting next to you.

Everything stops for a couple of seconds, adrenaline melting in your body mixed with the relief of stopping in an empty road. Your hands fumble with the seat belt after regaining conciusness. There was no one next to you when you left driving for work 13 minutes ago. Just ignore the chuckle and run for your life. But after opening the door your body is pushed back against your car.

"Sweetheart, why would you run away from me?" Your eyes widen at his words, at his voice. Bracing yourself to look at him, where you expected to find Jake's brown eyes and a scar stare back at you.

"Oh, sorry." The man you knew as the killer you're hunting down transforms his body into the same person that's working with you to end him. Jake smiles at you, and traces your face. "Surprise." He cheers , before chuckling at your confused face. He runs his hands down to rub your arm, soothing your trembling body. "I wished you would've found another way, but I couldn't risk your pretty brain to catch me out first." He laughs, almost giggling.

"What...What is.." Your voice barely a whisper.

"It's ok, babe. I won't harm you." He tries to flash a comforting smile, showing his sharp teeth in the process. Fuck, this now made sense, he wasn't trying to summon anything. He wanted blood. He needed blood. Because he is a vampire and now you're his next prey, one way or another.

Your morals were all wrong when you felt his lips on yours. He tasted sweet. Bloody sweet. All the bodies that you found drained out of blood. It was him. He was intoxicating. Jake wanted to do this ever since he saw you walk in the office, with that damn short skirt, that was too short for you. He imagined himself between your legs. Without thinking, he wrapped his veiny hand around you neck, holding you in place. You were his now. His to love. His to corrupt.

© V3LV3TSIN ⎯ do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own.

[insipid-drivel]

Warhorses: Which horses are actually good candidates, anyway?

This post is in honor of @warrioreowynofrohan, who asked the question in the comments under my guide, "Horses: Since There Seems To Be A Knowledge Gap". Their question, "Given what you said about too much weight breaking a horse’s spine, how did that work with knights in plate armour?" is one I'm going to try to answer here, since the answer can be very nuanced depending on where and when you're talking about.

Also, while I was a stable hand for years as well as a rider, I never had the opportunity to directly learn more ancient styles of tacking, horse training, and combat, so I don't have any direct experience to draw from with regard to horses used for military purposes. I'm still gonna do my best here with what I know, and research what I don't.

As I've covered in the past, large horses (draft horses) make less-than-ideal warhorses, and so do carriage horses like the elegant and dramatic Friesians.

Let's begin by addressing this from the perspective of creative writing. For you writers and content creators out there, an essential part to the continuity of any historically-themed work you do involving horses will be depicting breeds of horses that didn't exist before a certain time in history. I'm going to approach this question from the stance of, "Medieval-type era warhorses". Horses were used in warfare as late was World War II, but actual horses you ride into battle with knights and archers and bannermen? We actually have to drop the subject of specific modern breeds altogether aside from using them for comparisons.

When discussing warhorses, various cultures have approached them differently. Some cultures will value a specific type of horse above all others, such as the Mongolian Steppe Horse or the American Mustang. Other cultures, which may be from biomes and territories where multiple types of horses are needed for different forms of warfare and tactics, value whichever horses can get their jobs done without their riders getting killed.

Carrying vs. Pulling:

Horses have been used in warfare since as far back as 4000 BC, but their first applications were more as chariot horses. Humans have been riding and working with horses since before we even had stirrups to more easily ride them with! As archaeologists and anthropologists make more discoveries, the more we learn that we humans have been working closely with horses since before we had specialized tools to ride them with. The very first warhorses pulled chariots or carts, which is much easier for a horse's anatomy to handle compared to carrying a heavy weight like an armored rider on their backs, which puts stress directly on their spines where they have very little supporting muscle for supporting a lot of heavy downward weight.

Warhorse Size Categories:

Really, any breed of horse can apply to a niche in warfare if it's needed enough. Even very small, delicate horses have had their place in the history of human combat! Before I continue, it's important to know that there's a unique unit of measuring a horse's height. Rather than measuring a horse's height in centimeters or inches, they're measured in units called "hands". A single "hand" = ~4 inches/10.16cm, and a horse's height is measured based upon the distance between the bottom of their hoof to the tallest part of their shoulders, just at the base of the back of their necks. We don't actually include neck length/head height in a horse's measurements with traditional measuring.

Another rule of thumb: The average horse cannot safely carry anything heavier than about 30% of their total body weight. This is a serious factor to take into mind when deciding on a type of or breed of horse for a mounted warrior of any kind: You need to factor in the OC's starting body weight, and then add on the weight of armor, weapons, and any armor the horse itself may wear along with the weight of its tack.

Light-Weight Horses:

A few examples of lightweight horse breeds whose ancestors have historically been used in combat are Arabians, Barber Horses, and the magnificent Akhal-Teke. Lightweight and delicately-boned horses like those are best applied for military maneuvers that require precision, speed, and endurance, and the rider themselves should specialize in some form of combat or reconnaissance that doesn't require them to wear heavy metal or laminated armors. Archers are good candidates for riding smaller horses, or lightly-armored swordsmen like an Ottoman Janissary.

Central-Asian and North African horses also benefit from having a higher tolerance for hot climates. They can absolutely suffer from heatstroke and cardiac arrest from being forced to run and work in extreme temperatures and should always be provided with the same protective measures in a heatwave as any other horse, but they have a little bit of an edge over horses descended from freezing and temperate climates.

Medium-Weight Horses:

Medium-weight horses started showing up in the archaeological record around about the Iron Age, where chariot warfare was becoming an increasingly utilized form of mobile combat, and people needed bigger, stronger horses capable of pulling heavier loads - such as a chariot with two passengers rather than just one. As cultures began to develop heavier-duty armors made of metals and laminated materials, it also became important to breed horses that were tall and stocky (muscular and with relatively short spines compared to their height), and therefore more capable of carrying riders in increasingly heavy armor. Medium-weight horses were also essential at the dawn of the gunpowder age when the cannon came into use in siege warfare for pulling the heavy, iron cannons into position.

Medium-weight horses are really where we see the beginnings of knights and other warrior classes on horseback come into the forefront of warfare. When you have a horse that's big and strong enough to carry heavier armor and heavier weapons along with a rider wielding them, you have a much deadlier force at your disposal. Strikes from a sword or spear from the back of a galloping horse basically results in a sword capable of cutting through enemy soldiers like a hot knife through butter.

Important Note: Traditionally, cavalrymen wield blunt swords when attacking from a charging horse's back. When a horse is charging at full speed, the sharpness of a blade becomes less important than the blade's ability to stay in one piece when it impacts hard armor and bone. A blunted edge basically turns a cavalryman's sword into a thin club that's better at holding up against smashing through multiple layers of armor and bone compared to a thinner, more delicate sharpened edge that can shatter from a high-speed impact.

Heavy-Weight Horses:

The direct ancestors of modern draft horses, such as the Shire Horse, only began to appear around about the beginning of the European Medieval Era, and were far and away not even close to the enormous sizes of the draft horses we have today. Any horse counts as a "Heavy-weight" classed horse if its weight exceeds 1500lbs/680kgs.

Heavy-weight horses were really more bred for pulling enormous weights rather than carrying knights. While yeah, there is some evidence that suggests that heavy-weight horses were used by heavily-armored knights, historians argue a lot about whether it was a rule or an exception (such as with Henry VIII, who continued to ride well after he had begun to weigh more than 350lbs/158kgs, and even went to war in France in his final years on horseback). Generally speaking, medium-weight horses tend to be the right balance of agile and strong for carrying someone that's going to actively be fighting. Heavy-weight horses were bred to be a lot more tolerant to the chaos and frightening stimulation of the sounds of battle, but medium-weighted horses generally tended to be more suited to moving efficiently through dense packs of soldiers and weaving around other horses.

Ponies:

While actually being the smallest class of warhorse, ponies were essential when it came to carrying cargo and working as pack-horses. In certain forms of terrain, such as mountains, large horses pulling big carts full of supplies or soldiers could often be extremely impractical. In situations where an army needed to move on foot and form a narrow line in order to travel, ponies were able to traverse much narrower and rougher terrain while carrying smaller loads to their destination, when heavier horses would struggle more under their own weight and dexterity.

Europe-Specific Terminologies:

If you're a writer reading this and writing a piece set in the European Medieval age, there are specific terms used for the different classes I listed of warhorses above that I'm gonna list:

Destriers: The Destrier was a universal term for the iconic knight-carrying, jousting horse. They were also sometimes referred to as "Great Horses" due to their reputations in combat settings. Destriers could have just about any appearance, but were rarely taller than 15.2 hands, or 62inches/157cm. They were capable of carrying heavily-armored knights (although knights in full plate mail rarely rode into battle and stayed on the horse the entire time - they tended to specialize at grouping up and killing a lot of footsoldiers swarming them at once and preventing breaks in defenses from being overwhelmed by an oncoming army; in the case of Edward the Black Prince, we have substantial evidence in the form of his surviving brigandine that a mounted soldier or knight was more likely to wear chainmail and brigandine with a tabard on their body with their arms, feet, and heads the most heavily armored in plate when they intended to fight on horseback, making them a little lighter and more maneuverable, but I may be waaay off base there because I'm thinking of more of Italian soldiers who used full plate and how they applied it in battle more than any other example) and wearing armor themselves.

Interestingly, the sex of a destrier was often chosen strategically. Stallions (horses that haven't been neutered) are more aggressive, and could both act as combatants on their own if their knight was dismounted or killed, but could give away an army's location if they were attempting to move stealthily. Stallions whinny and shriek a lot when they're horny or arguing with each other, which is most of the time.

Mares were often chosen by Muslim armies for being much less vocal, and therefore much more capable of stealth. Geldings (neutered males) were the preferred mounts of the Teutonic Knights, a Catholic military group, since they couldn't be stolen and used to breed more horses for the enemy army.

Coursers:

Coursers were the most common Medieval European warhorse. It's important to remember that in Medieval Europe, most armies were almost entirely comprised of common men - serfs subject to the will of their landlords, not far removed from slaves in many ways - who couldn't afford the highly-prized and expensive Destriers. Coursers were usually a bit lighter than Destriers, but were still strong enough to carry someone wearing armor. Coursers were also a little more utilitarian, because they were also sometimes used in hunting as well as warfare, so they had a valuable use outside of warfare that the owner could benefit from.

Rouncey:

A rouncey was an all-purpose horse that could be used for leisure and travel-riding as well as be trained for war. They were a lot more likely to be found on the farm of a serf or independent farmer of some kind, as they could fill a lot of different roles depending on what they were needed for. Their sizes weren't really important as much as their ability to get the job done.

It's also critical to remember that, when talking about warhorses, we're usually talking about eras long past. In general, thanks to resource availability and incredible advances in medicine, modern humans are significantly taller, and therefore heavier, than people from the European Medieval era and prior. While fatness was valued in many cultures for its suggestion of wealth, most working-class and serf-class people worked intensely physically-demanding daily lives just to maintain their own homes. They were a few inches shorter on average than we are today, had greater fluctuations in body fat distribution depending on how harsh or bountiful the harvest season had been and the season in which a war was taking place (the average person's weight would swing by 30lbs or more on average every year prior to the industrial era), and cavalry were usually chosen based upon skill in the saddle as well as physical size when considering the application of medium or heavy armor being placed on the horse's back and body.

[nothingelsematterswrites]

logan IS NOT getting replaced at Imola (and not at Monza either), a CONFIRMED breakdown

that's right logan girlies (gn), Logan is SAFE. He's not going anywhere yet.

James was bailed up by Lawrence Barretto yesterday in the press pen, and was asked explicitly if Antonelli would be in the car at Imola. James straight up said that Antonelli will not be in the car at Imola, and that he is considering drivers for 25 and 26.

Here's the video:

James was also asked about it in the press conference, and Autosport did a write up of it which you can find here. Importantly:

“I know nothing about what's going on with the Mercedes tests right now,” said Vowles. “We are looking, as everyone else is, for where we want to be on driver line-up for next year. And we have our own young driver programme. “In the case of Kimi. I can't really adjudicate at the level he's at. In case of him coming into the car this year, I've always said from the beginning, it's a meritocracy. “Logan has to earn his seat and at the moment, he has some tough targets where he has to get much closer to Alex. But there is nothing on the radar at the moment for replacing him.”

That's the key point.

Now, the Autosport article also brought up another point. The FIA say they have received a superlicence request for Antonelli. They did not specify what type.

There are two types of superlicences. The one you hear about most commonly is a race superlicence. That's your standard one, need 40 points, etc.

But there is also a practice superlicence. This is what Logan had in 2022, enabling him to run FP1s for Williams while he tried to earn the points for his full superlicence.

It is actually entirely probable that Mercedes have put in this request for an exemption for a practice superlicence for Antonelli so that they can run him in FP1s.

Some of you may not trust James' word, and that's understandable! So, let's hear it from Toto Wolff himself, who was also asked about the rumours, and responded categorically:

"I don't know where this belief comes from that Mercedes was keen on pushing that forward. Kimi needs to concentrate on his F2 campaign and he knows that. "Everything else is just rumours, which continue to spin around and that are factually incorrect. He's an F2 driver for Prema, that is what he's doing, and this is what we're all concentrating on." Wolff stressed that Mercedes would remain careful not to burn Antonelli by promoting him too early, given his rapid rise through the junior series and his lack of experience. "Just 15 months ago, he was in an F4 car," he said. "We have great belief in Kimi, his abilities and also his future. "But there is a trajectory which we need to follow with diligence, rather than trying to dream about jumping from series to series in a way that is certainly not beneficial for him. "I think a champion is not going to be distracted by any of this. But certainly, at least it distracts me because everybody's asking me: 'What about Kimi and driving in Imola? "This is not going to happen. This is not something that Mercedes wants. These rumours have gotten their own spin. Let's do Formula 2. We as a team have lots of other issues to resolve."

So, to summarise: Toto doesn't want it. James doesn't want it. Neither of them are pushing for it. Logan has goals to meet and James is going to give him time and support to do it.

Now, James does say they're evaluating options for 2025, which I'm sure is not what some of you want to hear, but that's his job as the team boss. The market is busy right now, and if others are interested he is wise to listen. But Logan will be one of those options, if he hits the goals James has set him.

[l0stvegas]

Urgent Mutual Aid Needed For Healthcare and Necessary Expenses

Disabled trans artist of color seeking help to fund dental care for a painful broken tooth, as well as paying for car registration to be able to have transport to appointments for healthcare

Hey everyone, my longtime mutual of several years Johnny really needs y’all’s help. He’s been struggling with health problems for a while that have been making working consistently very difficult, and his partner is also disabled, out of work and unable to find accessible jobs that accommodate her own health.

Johnny is currently in need of at least $1,000 for car registration to be able to continue legally being able to get himself to medical appointments — which include getting care for a painful broken molar, testing to continue being able to receive his HRT prescription, and in addition he also needs to see a rheumatologist to help manage debilitating chronic pain and fatigue. I can speak from experience how dental issues can quickly become incapacitating or even life threatening and I would hope y’all can help him address that in particular as soon as possible.

On top of all of this, he also is faced with $2,000 in federal taxes that will be incredibly difficult if not impossible to address and pay towards if his health is not taken care of first and foremost.

Johnny is not eligible at this time for disability, food stamps or other such resources and genuinely needs and deserves anything you guys can send his way. I can reassure y’all it’ll be going to a good place, I’ve been seeing him talk about and give updates on his situation for some time now and he really deserves a break

I’ve seen firsthand that it’s been very difficult for his campaign to get traction on Twitter due to algorithm changes on there suppressing outside links (especially to those such as Gofundme, Kofi, Patreon etc) and it’s incredibly unfair that his ability to provide himself has been completely kneecapped by this. Since Tumblr has no such issue, I’m pleading that y’all try and spread the word here.

[notboredhuening]

and cut! — 후엔 카이 ⎈

pairing; dom!moviedirector huening kai + subactress!reader

tags; oral (m and f receiving) degrading, praise, slight dacryphillia if you squint. (i think that’s it let me know if i missed anything)

word count; 0.9k

“And CUT!” a man yells out. “great job team” a familiar voice says, causing you to flinch. huening kai. the director of the movie you were starring in. There was nothing remotely wrong with him, nothing he’d ever done to cause you to flinch. it was him. he was a beauty, his dark brown eyes and straight blonde hair, and a sturdy figure, which he showed off all the time. and god you couldn’t help but stare. snap out of it y/n.

kai walks up to you. “hey y/n, you did a great job today.” kai beams. you smile, “thank you Mr. Huening.” you say. “oh please, call me kai, i told you this the first day.” he chuckles. your smile widens. “sorry, kai. thank you.” you say nervously. “good girl.” he smiles a teasing smile. you could feel yourself blush. “oh and also, can i ask you to stay after we wrap it up? i need to talk to you about some paperwork.” he asks. “o-of course..excuse me for a minutes, i have to go to the restroom” you say. “go right ahead.” he says. “thank you, excuse me.” you power-walk to the restroom and close the door behind you, sighing and cleaning the sweat off your hands. did he mean that? was he just teasing? why am i so aroused?

after cleaning yourself up, you walk out the restroom, going to your dressing room and sitting and sighing. today was a long day, and you were for some reason looking forward to seeing kai at the end of the day. you hear some men shouting. “let’s go, wrap it up everybody!” you sigh, changing your outfit and fixing up your hair and makeup. but why did you want to look good? you didn’t understand, but you just walked out of the dressing room to your office. “Have a great day, Ms. Y/N” a co-director says “thank you, you too Mr.” you smile.

Your eyes fall on kai’s office door, it was closed and locked. you sigh nervously, stepping up and knocking lightly. “come in dear” he said. he must’ve known it was you at his door. you slightly open the door, and smile nervously. “h-hi mr hueni- i mean..uhm kai” you say awkwardly, knowing you just embarrassed the fuck out of yourself.

“don’t be nervous, hun.” he smiles slyly. “take a seat” he says. you sit down infront of his desk slowly, trying not to drool over his amazing visuals. god is he pretty. “i-i uhm.. so what about this paperwork?” you say nervously. kai chuckles darkly. “can i be honest, y/n?” kai says. “s-sure.” you stutter. “there was never any paperwork.” he says. “i’m sorry, i’m not sure i understand.” you say, voice clear as day. “y/n, you’re a very pretty woman.” kai says, “how aren’t you married? or in a relationship.” he asks. “are you trying to flirt with me” you say nervously. “yes, i’m very interested in you, y/n.” he says, leaning closer to you.

“m-mr kai..i..” he closes the space in between your lips, crashing his onto yours. you fall into the kiss as it starts to get heated, he pulls away to move closer to you, pulling you onto his lap and kissing you passionately.

you never really had a perception of time when it came to intimate activities, and you definitely hadn’t had many. but this experience with kai was pure bliss. his hands groping your tits as he kisses you with a hunger only a starved man has. kai pulls away for a moment but your lips search for his. “m-mmh kai.. i..” you whined out. “do you want this?” he asked. you nod. his hands trace your waistband. his look was that of pure lust, eyes darkening as he drops to his knees, pushing you onto his desk, papers flying everywhere.

kai’s eyes flick up to yours as he slowly lifts the fabric of your skirt, revealing your soaking wet panties. “my my..so wet already hm?” kai teases, his hands tracing the wetness between your thighs. your breath hitches as he pulls your panties off. causing the cold air to sting your cunt. “mmh.” you whine as you press your thighs together. kai opens your legs up again, inching his face closer to your dripping core until his mouth finally plants itself into your slit. “oh! k-kai..” you whined loudly. “shh shh doll.” he says in between licks. “don’t want anyone hearing hm?” he smirks, lapping at your pussy like a dog drinks water. your hands grip his hair tightly as you throw your head back, your hands steering his head away even though you want him closer. “a-ah..baby..” you moan, trying to pull yourself away even though you didn’t want to. “i-i’m close..p-please..mmh..” you groan. a whimper of pleasure rips from kai, the vibrations feeling euphoric. “i-‘m cumming.!” you whine, your arousal spreading all over kai’s face. “good girl, on your knees dear.” kai demands. you comply quickly.

kai roughly grabs your hair as he slips his boxers and pants down. he was huge. could you even take that all? “open.” he demands. you frown, knowing you couldn’t take that at ALL. “didn’t i say open, slut?” he tuts. you open your mouth and he immediately thrusts his length inside of your mouth. you take as much as you can, tears slipping down your face and spit rolling down your chin. “fuck, shit. good fucking girl.” you couldn’t even count the obscenities that left his mouth before he was spurting hot ropes of cum down your throat, quenching that ever longing thirst for him.

and you were ready to do it all again.

[pinazee]

Scary Sherry, season 1 finale!

Best. Episode. Of. Season. One. (Should i rank them?)

I love Goochberg (Mercedes Ruehl)! I wish she would have come back also. Like once every season she shows up in Lassies life somehow, wreaking havoc but ultimately teaching him something about himself like they did this time. Which, by the way, Chief Vick 1000% did that to get Lassie out of his own ass haha

Shannon woodward did a phenomenal job as alice bundy. There was so much depth to her character, you could really feel the pain she was in. This is something Psych also does very well. They have their comedy bits sure, but for the most part they don’t forget that a dead body was a person first. Like in Forget Me Not, they humanize our victim by telling us the woman who died liked to play scrabble with her friends. And Shawn has repeatedly said may they rest in peace, which seems small, but i think it shows they respect the subject matter for what it is. Im not saying they’re perfect, but considering this show is 90% jokes, it’s nice that their 10% drama is handled with such care.

When this scene plays, I only watch James because i watched the commentary and he said he could barely get through this scene and you can see him trying not to break haha

It’s interesting that Gus is over at Henry’s so often, to the point that he’s almost like his second kid. Theres two reasons i think this happens 1. Shawn asks him to come over so he won’t have to be alone with his dad. 2. Henry and Gus have an unspoken agreement that because Gus is supporting Shawn so much financially Henry is paying him in food. Like child support lol it’s also interesting that they’ve reached a point of family dinners essentially. I wonder how much of this is Shawn feeling a sense of obligation because it’s his dad, how much of him still seeks his acceptance and approval, and how much is him trying to bury the hatchet. And then on Henry’s side i wonder how much is him recognizing that he could do better, how much is trying to rebuild this relationship (that he probably blames himself for destroying though i doubt hes even admitted that to himself), and how much is simply needing Shawn for the exposure to cases again.

And we get quite a bit of character development for our cops. Lassiter sees how his perception of self doesn’t match with what he’s putting out, Juliet experiences some real personal danger and handled herself. And that end scene, was such a great small gesture that showed us despite their history, Lassie is part of the group.

Final note: Look, at how perfectly executed this scene is! The running, the screaming, the jumping, pretending to be brave, and the cherry on top putting his hand through the open window!!!! Dying. Dead. Resuscitated. Choked on laughter. Died again.

[dangeroussheepcherryblossom]

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐖𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 ― 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 ― Say it, he thinks, but it feels like something's caught in his throat, like he's trying to choke it down. I love you. Three words. Simple and straightforward - Price likes things that way. But the truth, of course, isn't easy. That's just the way things are. Notes: Hey, everyone! First time writing, so I'm really excited! Sorry for any spelling errors, English isn't my native language.I used Jill Valentine's nickname - supercop - to refer to the reader (female version). Kisses! John Price went to see her again. Even lying on the chair, with his eyes half-closed, Soap could see his shadow on the infirmary wall. He didn't say anything. Instead, he removed the tangled blanket from himself and folded it over the chair's narrow arm. He ran his fingers over his neck, feeling the knots forming at the back of his head. Then, he stood up and opened the blinds as he had done for the past six days, until the sunbeams infiltrated the room, bringing warmth to his body.

There was an annoying beeping sound. It meant her body was still stable. Soap hoped the tests would prove the same.

"You need to rest," Price said.

"I'm fine," Soap murmured when he saw him approach.

"That wasn't a question, Soap. You look like crap."

The younger man shook his head, unconvinced. He stared at the captain, insolent, challenging him to question him again. "What happened wasn't your fault," Price continued.

"Just keep telling yourself that," Soap stopped in front of the sleeping figure, turning his arm to examine the scratches and bruises accumulating on his skin.

"As a captain, I'd do anything to ensure the safety of my men. You're my team. It's my duty to protect you," Price said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I think about that mission every day. I feel like I failed you all," Price continued, stumbling over his words. "That burden isn't yours. You did your job, protected your partner. Don't blame yourself for something that's out of your control."

The two men fell silent for a few minutes.

Now, if Price were being honest with himself and with Soap, he knew much had already been taken from him by that point; his men, his team, his friends. At some point, Price couldn't remember them as anything but dead soldiers, drowned in their own blood, a bullet mark on their chest. It troubled him because it seemed to hide the best of them.

You can't save everyone.

And this feeling of losing another person, seeing them turn into a memory, never terrified him as much as it did now. Price didn't want to lose her either.

It was Soap who broke the silence: "Do you feel the same?" he murmured, "Does it get better at some point?"

"No," the captain replied, "That's the burden for people like us. It never gets better."

Soap sighed, his eyes burning from all the suppressed hours of sleep. One second passed, then another. The man finally gave in to exhaustion. "I'm going," he said, "If she wakes up..."

"You'll be the first to know," the captain added.

The younger man nodded, satisfied with the response. He looked defeated, and that wasn't an understatement. It was as if he had taken a beating - which wouldn't be entirely wrong. Rest would do him good.

❛ They were at a bar.

The entire Task Force 141 gathered at a dusty table, with grease and cheap beer stains on the wood. "I doubt this glass has been washed in the last decade," Gaz laughed, raising the glass to his face. "To good memories of terrible places and even worse people," he toasted.

"And may this madness end someday," Soap continued, but none of them believed it as they downed their drinks. "I'm still not ready to die."

"If you keep talking so much during the mission..."

"Oh, screw off."

The fact was: they bonded over their similar experiences of being thrown into the desert to survive. To kill - and they had a taste for it; bitter and sweet at the same time. A terrible combination to have in those days and, above all, in that place.

But they knew they could count on each other.

"Don't be reckless."

(Don't die)

"Still standing?"

(You okay?)

And then, suddenly, there they all were - older, new scars on their skin - as they waited for you to wake up after the tragedy. "Come on, Supercop. I'm dying of boredom waiting for you to wake up," Simon said once, "Or just dying."

The captain supposes that's the nature of your relationship: you and Simon were opposite poles of the same coin and yet, a perfect synchrony in the field.

"Do you know why the horse was using the payphone?"

"If you keep this up, I'm going to stick this gun in my mouth and pull the trigger." ❜

Price smiled gently at the memory, leaning back in the chair. His blue eyes rested on your sleeping figure, and the sight made his heart race. It always did, from the first time you smiled at him, to the most recent. He knows why. Hell, of course, he knows why. It took him almost a year to realize what flushed cheeks and clammy hands meant: the lack of air and the intrinsic need to know you were okay.

Perhaps if Price were a decent man - a bit more like the 19-year-old boy who enlisted in the army with naive ideas about justice and life. In that version, he would ask you out, buy a flower, and take you to an expensive restaurant, like the ones he used to see in commercials when he was a kid. He would hold your hand and listen to you talk about whatever you were interested in at the moment (no matter how silly it might seem).

He wonders if you'd wear something green. Green suits you.

You'd get tipsy on wine, and Price would take a sip of whiskey and watch your eyes get a little droopier and a little redder than they were before dinner, and when you'd go home together, he'd resist every urge of his body to smooth that stray strand of hair that gets caught at the back of your head.

Price doesn't know if you want these things; he just presumes you do. He presumes you'd like to go out at night, wear something pretty, and feel someone's touch. And he presumes you want love - Price wants it too, for all he's never said out loud.

A minute passes.

Price lets his head fall back in the chair. (...)

You smiled at him. Beautiful, hopeful, and said, "Hey, captain."

Skin marked by the sun, gunpowder, and sweat. Full, reddened lips curved into a smile, but whether it was because of him or something MacTavish said, he couldn't say.

Price smiles too. 'That's it,' he thinks. 'I love this woman.'

Still, all he says is, "Hey, soldier."

(...)

Patience is a virtue.

And, like so many others, not everyone possesses it.

MacTavish was one of those people.

Perhaps part of it was due to his extroverted nature, 'Part of the Scottish charm,' he would say, and then you would roll your eyes in a way that Price could swear one day they would get stuck that way. So, it was no surprise that when the captain received the news that you had woken up, Soap was already in the medical wing - and the sound of your voices, jokes, and sarcastic remarks that he would like to find annoying, but the desire to suppress a smile often found its way somehow.

"Why does the food have to be so bad?, he hears you cry, "Nurse!" you say, "I'm dying from neglect here."

Gaz arrives shortly after, followed by Simon and his praises that could easily be mistaken for insults. Price knows that's the skull-masked man's way of showing he cares.

The team was reunited once again.

Price would like to freeze moments like this.

(...) "You're avoiding me," it wasn't a question.

Price should've expected this - sooner or later. You were smart. Too smart for your own good.

A second passes, the door closes behind with a soft thud. "Captain," you continue, pursing your lips, more indulgent than anything else. There she is, he thinks, my tough girl.

"Sergeant," he greets, sliding his calloused fingers over the cigar and placing it on the metal ashtray on the table full of memoranda and telexes, the nicotine still burning his lungs.

"You're avoiding me," you repeated when the captain's eyes met yours for the first time. "If this has anything to do with the last mission…"

Price sighed slowly.

"It was them or us. Women and children," he continued, his voice lowering as if it were coming from a tunnel. "They weren't part of the mission, but…"

"You wouldn't abandon them, I know," the captain interrupted. "I would have made the same choice, Sergeant."

"Wait, what?"

Price let his back hit the upholstery of the chair. He knew this moment would come - the breaking point. The line between calm and storm has always been too short for John Price anyway.

But this was entirely new territory. Dangerous territory.

"So why did you pull me out of the last mission?"

I'm worried about you.

"The doctor said you needed more rest."

I can't risk losing you again.

"Nonsense," you say, walking towards the captain's desk. "John, what's going on?"

Say it, he thinks, but it feels like something's caught in his throat, like he's trying to choke it down. I love you. Three words. Simple and straightforward - Price likes things that way. But the truth, of course, isn't easy. That's just the way things are.

"What's between us, John?"

"That's really…"

You don't let him finish. "At least have the guts to tell me what I did, or are you a coward?"

Coward. That's certainly a word no one has called him before. Not in the army. Not when he became a captain. Never in his life – never. Until today.

Price looks at you once again. His eyebrows are furrowed, his blue gaze fixed on yours until his eyes lower to your clavicle. He's wrapped in a thick layer of cream-colored bandages, which are wrapped below his armpit, above his shoulder, and around his chest.

He feels his breath catch in his throat and remembers your dead weight in his arms. He remembers your blood stiffening his skin, accumulating under his cuticles, buried beneath his nails. It took days to clean up. Days.

"You didn't do anything," he responds coldly. His expression is as stoic as ever, but his eyes are screaming at you. "And don't use that tone with me."

You scoff. "Whatever." The word is cold, and you shake your head, heading towards the door once again. "Enjoy your cigar and paperwork."

But even as his thoughts beg you to keep walking away from him, the captain's arm is still reaching out, his toned fingers gripping your wrist in a sticky grip. He pulls you back, quickly turning his head so he doesn't miss the sudden pink flush on top of your cheeks.

He shouldn't be allowed to touch you anymore, but he craves it. He longs for it; his unconscious mind is entrusted to you. And if you decide to break it in half, he supposes he'll have to fall apart.

Your eyes are masked by a transparent layer of moisture. Tears of anger, he deduces. Tears of anger because he's being cruel to you. He knows he's not being entirely rational. He wants to say the blame isn't yours - it's his. And if you never sought him out again, he wouldn't blame you for that either.

You're stuck in his head, and for all his life, he can't erase you from his thoughts; but he knows he let you in on your own. He was tired of being alone, and you offered him your hand, and he still hasn't let go. He wonders if that hurts you more. He should let go. He really should let go. But he doesn't.

And he doesn't care if you can protect yourself - he knows you can. All he wants is to get you out of this. He swore to himself that he would save you from this shitty world. That he would somehow free you from the shackles of this life because he can't stand to see you suffer because of it much longer.

"I'm sorry," he says. An apology. It's short and sweet - like "I love you" - but much easier to say.

You sigh, your expression softening under his sincere gaze. It's like you're stroking you, warming you to the bones.

"Walk with me?" he asks you.

His grip on your wrist remains as you walk alongside him, until he lets his hand fall back to his side, his fingers just brushing against yours in a weak attempt to feel the heat of your boiling body on his skin.

Price was the one who broke the silence.

"You scared the shit out of me back there," he admits, purposely slowing his pace.

"I'm fine," you reaffirm firmly. "And that must be the first time I hear you say you were scared."

The captain's eyes narrowed. Frustration tightened his voice a bit, but he found it incredibly attractive when he said, ''You never respond the way people expect you to respond.'' The wind blows angrily, making his hair fly. Price could feel the shivers that her scent caused him. "And there are few things that scare me."

Losing you is, he thinks.

His heart beats melodiously, pumping blood and sending some to his cheeks.

"Maybe you're sick. Let's examine you before it completely devours your brain."

He laughs lightly, and she thinks how good it is when he does that. Price's face is always so stern, so cold when they're around other people. It's like it's a secret only she knows.

Price can't remember exactly the next hour - what he might have said, the sounds around him. None of it seemed important to him at that moment. But he remembers her smile and the way her eyes close when she does. The rosy hue on her cheeks because of the cold weather.

Say it. Just say it to her.

His hands touched the doorknob of his office door.

"Sergeant."

Her eyes sought the captain's blue eyes over her shoulder. "Yes, captain?"

"It's good to have you back," he says with that careful, somber voice a second later.

You smile at him once again. "Thank you, captain."

Say it. Tell her.

"You…," he tries again. The words died before they could pass through his lips.

"Yes?"

"You should smile more often."

He doesn't miss how her cheeks became even rosier. His heart skips a beat when she asks, "Why?"

"I love the way you smile," he says simply.

Her hands slid away from the doorknob.

She kisses him first.

Price has a moment outside of his body, as if he couldn't believe this was really happening. Her kiss is gentle, her hands hesitant against his chest, and then somehow they're against the wall of his office.

She places her hands on each side of his face, and the room disappears. He's never been so lost in a kiss before. Then he grabbed the back of her thigh, pulling her up and slamming her against the door again. Their hearts were pounding in their chests, as if the air was being knocked out of them. "Damn," he whispered against my lips. "I want you."

"You're not the only one." He snapped, catching her bottom lip between his teeth, the heat of his mouth sending shivers down your spine. "You get everything you want You need me," he argued, kissing her once more.