#pls greg come back

[greg-montgomery]

greg effortlessly and casually being the sweetest dad ever <3

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 | Changes

What do you do when the person you once were becomes the person you miss being the most?

Tags/Warnings: Aged up!Jungkook, Younger!Reader, Age Gap (9 years, JK is mentioned to be 34/35), Angst, Mature romance, Jungkook's ex wife, mentions of past physical abuse, mentions of alcohol abuse, fluff, flirty Jungkook, no smut in this I'm sorry pls still read it :( there's some tension tho!!

Length: 6.5k words

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"Thanks for picking him up." Taehyung sighs, his son happily in the living room, taking a nap from school as he tucks himself in on the couch while his favorite show plays on the TV.

"I would've asked her, you know, but I feel like I'm relying too much on her again." The young father sighs. "I'm basically treating her the same as I did years ago, just without the pay."

"I heard about that." Jungkook says, drinking his coffee at the kitchen table where he sits across Taehyung. "She used to nanny while you lived separately from your wife, I think it was." He hums, setting his cup down. Jungkook isn't on bad terms with Taehyung's wife- but he tends to not say her name, because he honestly harbors quite a bit of distaste towards the woman who refuses to properly take care of her own child.

"Well don't you seem to know a bit about her now." Taehyung squints his eyes in suspicion. "What happened to 'she's too young for me anyways' huh?" He teases, and Jungkook sighs.

"Well, things.. happened. And we talked." He shrugs. "We're not.. really a couple, but we agreed to spend time with one another." He explains.

"So you're friends with benefits?" He wonders, drinking his tea while Jungkook leans back.

"No." He shakes his head, even though deep down, it does kind of feel like that to him, now that he thinks about it a bit more. "It's.. a bit more complicated than that. We're simply talking, seeing where it goes." He says.

"Hmhm." Tae nods. "Just don't break her heart. I still got basically nightmares from her last relationship." He mumbles a bit angrily to himself, clearly a bit irritated even just by the thought of it.

"I.. wondered what happened." Jungkook says. "Dae said he was a drinker?" He wonders, and Taehyung nods.

"Drinker, druggie, abusive asshole." He huffs, crossing his arms. "It's the main reason she moved away when Daehyun was younger. She wanted to protect him- make sure he won't get hurt."

"Was he violent?" Jungkook wants to know, because honestly, he has a hunch that that might've been the case. Taehyung seems on edge now, clearly torn between probably saying the truth, and respecting your privacy. "I was intending to ask her anyways. But she seems like the type to downplay her problems in order to make things seem less serious, so I thought you might be more honest." He adds.

"Yeah, she is like that." Tae agrees softly. "I'm not too sure what exactly went down. But I do know that she.. distanced herself out of fear that Daehyun might get hurt." He tells his friend. "Greg started to pick her up every time she'd babysit Daehyun at my house, even after I told him I didn't like that. He still did, still argued, turned up drunk multiple times at my doorstep." The young father remembers. "I kept her with me, of course. I'd never let her drive home with that alcoholic- but I guess something must've happened because she just.. suddenly cut contact." He shrugs. "Sent me a text, changed her number, moved out her old apartment."

"When did she come back?" Jungkook wonders.

"According to Yoongi, a few weeks before the aftershow party." Taehyung responds.

"So that's why you didn't recognize her?" He figures, and Tae nods.

"She changed a lot. Not just visually. She's.." His eyes lower to the cup in his hand. "..a lot more quiet. Cautious. Jumpy." He informs his friend. "And at the same time, she seems to mask a lot of it- get's irritated easily. She's trying to be who she was, but it's obvious that something changed, and whenever someone notices, she becomes defensive."

Jungkook doesn't really know what to think. Looking at Daehyun on the couch, he can absolutely understand your standpoint back then to get away from Taehyung's family in order to protect them- but that means there must have been at least some form of fear against your former partner to make you believe that he could potentially be a danger to the young boy and his father. It could also just be jealousy, of course- but Taehyung is right. You are a little odd sometimes.

And he doesn't know if he wants to know exactly why, or if he wants to let sleeping dogs rest.

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Jungkook leans back in his office chair, headache already almost too unbearable to him, especially considering the woman who's making her way up in the giant corporate building to see him.

She wants money again, he knows it. Evelyn only ever visits him if there's something she wants, after all.

"One might argue they'd know me by now." Evelyn huffs as she enters the office, hair a bit wet as she throws her coat over the chair in front of his desk, before she sits down. "How're you doing?" She wonders, and Jungkook doesn't look away from his laptop's screen whatsoever, still looking through his e-mails. He doesn't have to put too many thoughts into this conversation after all- she's most likely just here to leech off of him again.

"Cut it." He simply says. "What do you want?" He asks, phone on his desk vibrating and chiming with a new notification.

'I can just drop something off for you? I just got off work myself, so it's no hassle.' your message reads, an answer to a former rant from him about his headache, and the fact that he's 'locked in like a dog' in his office and without any proper food ever since this morning. It makes him softly smile a little, the fact that you want to bring him something to eat even though you're probably exhausted from your shift as well is something he's not used to. And he didn't even have to ask for it.

'Only if it's really not an issue for you' his answer reads, and you send a thumbs-up emoji as an answer, before you finish typing your proper answer.

'DW, is anything okay or do you want something specific?' you question, and he immediately types a response.

'Just whatever, really. Nothing too spicy though, please.' he offers, when a hand knocks on the table in front of him, the woman in his office dragging him back into reality with force. He signs, locks his phone before he puts it down, opening a chat with the front desk downstairs to let them know to bring you up when you arrive.

"You know, this was always the issue, Jungkook." Evelyn whines, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed. "You're so consumed by your work, it's crazy." She shakes her head.

"That wasn't work, actually." He bites back with a monotone voice, not really offering her any emotion whatsoever- there's nothing left in him anymore he could offer anyways. She took it all, sucked it out of him like an insect, and now she's constantly upset that he's empty inside.

"Anyways, I got this letter recently stating that there was an issue with the bank transfer?" She says, giving him the letter to read- which he does, flying over it just to remember why that bank transfer did not go through. "I told them that they'll get their money by friday." She hums, leaning her face on her palm while he gives her the letter back.

"What do I have to do with it then?" He asks, and she sits upright again, tilting her head a bit in irritation. "You said they'll get their money by friday. Good. Why are you here then?" He asks, arms crossed, office chair squeaking a bit as he leans back into it.

"Well, it's your bank account!" She laughs a bit unsure. "I don't even know why there was apparently not a sufficient balance on it." She argues.

"I resigned the automatic transfer rights." Jungkook tells her, face not moving an inch as he breaks the news. "The letter doesn't mention an insufficient balance at all, Evelyn. It states that there's no bank account set for the automated transfer option at all." He informs her.

"What the fuck Jungkook?!" She barks. "And you didn't even tell me?!" She yells, standing up to slap her hands on his desk. "You can't just make these changes and not inform me about it! Do you know how expensive that was?!" She accuses, and he shrugs, noticing something move behind her, milky glass front of his office hiding what's going on inside and outside, only letting shadows be seen if someone's close enough. "I'll text you the invoice later, and you better fucking pay, you asshole!" She says, when she whips her head around, someone opening the glass door.

"Thanks." You tell the office lady having let you in, before your eyes widen, door closing behind you and instantly drowning out all noise except the very slight sound of the fan in the corner of the room.

"Ah, there you are." Jungkook sighs, suddenly feeling a lot lighter as he looks at you. "Come here- is it still raining a lot?" He wonders easily, taking the white plastic bag from you to set it on his table, before giving you a small hug to greet you. "I think that was all you wanted, wasn't it?" He asks Evelyn, who hasn't even gotten up from her seat, instead clearly studying you now.

"Actually, no." She tells him. "And it's kind of private, so it would be real nice if your assistant would leave." She tells you with a smile that reminds you of a snarling dog.

"Then come back a different day." Jungkook answers her however, offering to take your coat from you to hang next to his own on the wall close to the large windows. "Right now I'm really not in the mood for whatever it might be. Especially not with my girlfriend in the room." He bluntly says, and something seems to flash over her face at the mention of your alleged role in his life.

She slowly stands up to take her coat from the back of the chair, movements a lot slower now, a glare sent into your direction. "Don't get your hopes up, sweetheart." Evelyn tells you, slipping into the sleeves of her coat. "His first love will always stay his job." She almost threatens, before she takes her purse and leaves through the door, leaving a confused you, and a clearly exhausted Jungkook behind.

"Please, sit down." He offers, and you do so, watching how he leans back in his chair, hands running over his face before he sits up again. "I'm sorry. That timing couldn't have been worse." He sighs.

"Ah, here. Do you have water here?" You wonder, and he nods, pointing towards a water dispenser in the room. "Oh, fancy." You laugh, walking up to fill a cup to put in front of him. "I take them myself, they usually help really quickly. Not trying to murder you." You tease, and he chuckles, taking the medication and the cup for himself.

"Thank you, really." He sighs out before taking the pill, washing it down with half of the cup's contents before he closes his eyes for a moment. "God I hate her so much." He suddenly breaks out laughing, before he shakes his head, digging through what you've bought for him.

"I assume that was your ex wife?" You wonder, and he nods.

"I'm also really sorry for telling her you're my girlfriend when we haven't even talked about that yet." He tells you a bit.. shyly almost, while you pull the bag closer to take something out for yourself.

"It's fine." You shrug. "Got a nice ring to it, you know?" You joke, and he smiles, starting to eat.

It's quiet, but not oddly so. He enjoys this a lot, this company without any pressure, no eerie sense of something being about to happen. You're clearly here because you want to be, there's nothing you want from him, nothing you need, nothing you could gain from this. It's just what it is, nothing else, nothing to red between the lines.

"You can ask why she was here, by the way." He offers you, wiping his mouth with a tissue.

"I don't have to know." You say, however. "It's got nothing to do with me- right?" You ask, and he nods. "Then it's none of my business. You can rant to me about it, sure, but I can't really give you any opinions on it since I don't really know her, or the situation around you and her." You tell him.

Jungkook watches you for a moment, before he nods. "You're right." He agrees, letting go of the topic entirely for now. He know it's only fair to talk to you about it at some point- but right now is not the time for that, he decides. "Do you want me to drive you home later? I really only have to answer this one E-mail and then I can clock out." He tells you between bites, wiping his fingers before he taps away on his keyboard.

"If it's not a bother, sure." You shrug. "You said you got the weekend off, right?" You ask him, and he nods a bit absentmindedly. "Then how about you stay over?" You ask, and that definitely seems to catch his attention.

"Stay over?" He asks, just to make sure he heard it correctly, and you nod.

"Yeah." You nod. "It's, you know, what boyfriends do with their girlfriends." You tease, making him roll his eyes. "We could cook something, watch a movie. Oh, and one of the lightbulbs in my kitchen broke, so maybe you could fix that for me?" You chirp, and he suddenly smiles brightly to himself, clicking something on his laptop before he shuts it down. "What's that grin for, mister?" You ask, and he just shakes his head.

"Nothing, really." He tells you. "I'm just really happy." He confesses, and you smile the same, now a bit shy.

"Well, what's your answer then?" You wonder, watching him pack the leftovers back into the bag, before he walks to get both his and your jackets, helping you into yours.

"My answer is yes." He says, voice very close to your ear as he leans over your shoulder from behind you, hands on your arms for a second. "I'd love to stay over and fix that lightbulb too, of course.-"

"Since I heard that's what boyfriends do with their girlfriends."

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"There we go." He says, slowly climbing down the plastic kitchen chair you're holding onto just in case. "Anything else while I'm here?" He genuinely asks, and you shake your head, moving the chair back to the small kitchen table.

"No, that was all. Thank you, really." You say, before you move to open the fridge, taking out some things while he stands around with his hands in his pockets. Your apartment is pretty small- living in it together with you would most likely prove to be way too much, but he still thinks it's better than his own, in terms of.. quality.

His own home feels empty. There's nothing in it, it's way too big for a single person, and the view from so high up above the clouds has long lost it's charm to him.

He sits down at the kitchen table, leaning on it a little as he watches you wash some vegetables before you grab a cutting board and a knife. "Daehyun said you're a little lonely without your dog." He says, and you giggle a little, smiling to yourself. "Have you considered getting another one?" He wonders, but you just shrug.

"I'm too busy at the moment." You deny. "I used to bring him to work with me, since he was a very quiet and calm dog, which fit perfect into our office." You remember. "He'd always sleep under my desk, right on my feet. Always kept them warm." You softly say, and he notices that he might've struck a still hurtful topic if only from the sound of your voice becoming somewhat tighter.

"I can imagine. I always wanted a dog too-" He sighs, leaning back. "But.. Evelyn, the woman you saw today, she doesn't like them. So it was out of the question."

"Really?" You wonder, cutting up the vegetables. "I mean, I guess, if both of you were really busy then it probably was for the best." You hum, tension leaving you again. "Gotta look at the bigger picture."

"Yeah, maybe it was for the best." He agrees. To be honest, Evelyn would've probably fought over the dog as well, just like she did over the apartment, and other more petty things like fucking furniture. She wanted to ruin him, if financially then emotionally, and somehow, she somewhat did.

It's quiet again, when you, surprisingly to him, cut into a topic he did not expect.

"His name was Greg." You say, filling a small pot with water before you place it on the stove, turning it on. "You probably talked about him with Taehyung."

"I did." He admits. "But there's not much I know." He offers. "And like you said about my situation, I don't have to know about things that don't concern me. However-" He begins, getting up to now stand closer, find your gaze that's turned downwards onto the cutting board. "-I don't want to accidentally do something that might make you uncomfortable due to past experiences." He says.

"What a tactful way to ask me if I've got any trauma from that guy." You chuckle, moving to put the cut up vegetables in a bowl before you continue the preparations for dinner.

"I'm trying to be gentle here." He attempts to lighten up the mood, and you indeed smile at that.

"And I'm very thankful for that." You offer him, before you sigh, setting down the knife. "I don't.. think we're at a point where I should be dumping all of what happened onto you." You inform him, and he nods, accepting that. "I don't like yelling. If I feel uncomfortable, I'll probably try and get myself out of a situation by any means necessary-" you admit, turning a little to look at him. "-and that will probably include some nasty words thrown your way, if that get's you away from me." You tell him. "And I don't like alcohol. Even if you hand me full on medical evidence that you can't even get drunk, the moment I smell it- I just can't trust you." You say, and he nods.

"Alright, I respect that." He nods.

"I'll also get pretty clingy over time." You add on, making him nod. "And I can be annoying. I'll text you a lot." You continue, and a small smile sneaks itself onto his lips as he shrugs, crossing his arms. "The moment you invite me into your home I'll practically steal half of your closet contents-"

"Is that what he told you?" He wonders, and you grow quiet, eyes avoiding him. "I'm obsessed with my work." He begins his own rant, standing up to walk closer to you. "I never have time for anything else. I'm boring. Sometimes rude, and immature. I'm a perfectionist, but I'm also lazy. I snore, and I work out too much to the point where I'm sweating buckets. I'm a little messy." He tells you, hugging you from behind, though not very intimately- giving you a clear way out if you so want to.

"…is that what she told you?" You answer, and he smiles.

"Let's just agree on getting to know each other just the way we are, not the way someone else described us in the past." He offers, and you nod.

"Alright." You hum, before you push him a little playfully. "Now go and let me cook in here, boyfriend." You tease, making him grin impishly, his tongue running over his bottom lip as he does not walk away from behind you, hands now flat on your ass. "Hey!"

"What? I'm out of your way like this." He tells you almost innocently, hands moving to hold your waist now.

"Sit down there and let me cook!" You laugh.

"But we wanted to cook together, no?" He wonders. "Like.. boyfriend and girlfriend." He leans his chin on your shoulder.

"Well, boyfriends let their girlfriends cook in peace." You threaten, making him chuckle as his fingers squeeze your hips a bit.

"Not if their girlfriend is this attractive." He purrs, making you roll your eyes.

"Jungkook…" You wonder, suddenly way more serious, making his stand up straight again so you can face him. "Is.. that what we are now?" You ask, and his lips part for a second, unsure of his own answer. "I mean, it's fine if we're just playing around. Just.. I'm scared that we might end up in some.. unnecessary drama down the line if we're blurring the lines too much without properly discussing things first." You say.

"What do you mean?" He asks, and you sigh.

"What if you end up calling me.. your girlfriend just as a joke? But I start believing it at some point- thinking we are something serious when we're not. Or the other way around." You explain. "I don't want us to get hurt again. Neither of us."

Jungkook takes a deep breath, and from this close proximity, you can make out two odd dots near his bottom lip you're not too sure of. You might ask him about them some other time.

"Let me take time off of work. Next week, three days." He offers, catching you off guard. "Let's go on a trip. Together. Someplace no one knows us, and we don't know either." He tells you.

"I mean- I would've had friday and the weekend off anyways but-"

"Okay, great, perfect. I'll cancel my Friday meetings." He tells you, hands moving- at first, they seem to attempt to hold your cheeks- but it's like that feels too intimate yet, so he settles for your shoulders. "Let's get to know each other. The real you and me that got.. buried at some point." He offers.

"Why on a trip?" You ask.

"Because it's perfect." He chuckles. "Close proximity of the hotel room we'll share, stress of navigating the unfamiliar environment, the tension of not being able to just 'escape' any uncomfortable situation right away forcing us to talk things out as they happen-" He begins, and your mouth shapes an 'o' as you realize what he's talking about.

"It's a stress-test." You say, and he nods, grinning.

"Exactly." He nods.

"…to be honest you're already stressing me out." You jokingly reply-

Jungkook laughing, and you have a feeling he's not done that in a long time, with the way his ears turn red and his hand covers his mouth in embarrassment of that outburst.

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When Taehyung opens the door, he instantly greets his son who Jungkook has put down the moment he'd noticed the young father arriving at the front door to let him in.

"Oh wow." Taehyung laughs as Jungkook walks in, almost nervously running a hand through his hair. "Is the world ending? Apocalypse? Or am I high?" He jokes, making Jungkook roll his eyes. "No, seriously! I didn't even know you could still put those piercings back in!" He laughs, taking Dae's school backpack to take out his lunchbox so he can sort out the leftovers and wrappers from his snacks.

"It was a bit tricky, I won't lie." He laughs a little. "But they didn't really close all that much since I had them for so long, so it wasn't a big deal." He shrugs.

"What's the occasion?" Tae wonders, throwing the wrappers of Daehyun's snacks in the trash. "You most certainly don't look like you're gonna go to a meeting like that. What happened to 'I'm not in my twenties anymore' huh?" He jokes.

"I'm honestly not sure." He answers, hands in the pockets of his pants. "Just.. felt like it. And I'm not going to the office- I took time off." He confesses.

"Okay, are you running a fever?" Taehyung asks, and Jungkook laughs to himself. "Are you gonna meet up with your.. friend?" He air-quotes, and Jungkook nods, checking the silver watch on his wrist.

"Yeah- we're meeting up later, she's currently packing her things last thing she texted me." He nods. "Our flight is in about three hours from now, but it's her first time flying, so we wanted to be there a bit early just in case." Jungkook shrugs.

"Oh, fancy." Taehyung laughs. "Why though?" He wonders, washing the colorful lunchbox of his son in the sink.

"Stress testing." Jungkook offers. "We just want to see if we can handle each other under pressure." He says, and Taehyung sighs.

"My god Jungkook, can you just once try and not make everything more complicated than it has to be?" He worries. "Just spend time with her. Go out for a coffee or something, watch a shitty movie at home and let her suck you off during the commercial break or something, you know, like NORMAL people!" He whines. "You're acting as if this is some million-dollar business discussion. It's really not." He huffs out in frustration. "Listen, I know Eve fucked you over bad, and honestly you've always had a shit-taste in women to begin with because holy fuck if I think back to Lucy-"

"Can you get to the point?" Jungkook complains, a little embarrassed as his friend brings up his admittedly terrible dating history.

"-yeah, sorry." He laughs. "But, trust me-" Taehyung says, drying his hands before he puts them on his friend's shoulders. "-she's honestly perfect for you. Once you help her get her confidence back up, trust me, you've got yourself someone who's not a raging cunt for once." He finishes his rant, and Jungkook takes a deep breath.

"You think?" He worries, and Taehyung nods.

"I do." He says, patting his friend's back before he leads him to his front door. "Be yourself. And I mean, your real self. Be that goofy dude who cries during disney movies and folds his laundry to Depeche Mode at 3 am."

"Why would I do that?" Jungkook cringes, thinking his friend is joking- but he's surprised to find Taehyung with a soft gaze instead, an encouraging smile on his lips.

"Because that's the Jungkook I know." He offers, a somber look on his face.

"And I miss him."

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"Let me take that." He offers, taking the suitcase from you. It's small, scratched up, and he can't help but notice the stickers on it. "You good to go?" He wonders, and you nod, closing the door before locking it, walking next to him out the apartment building towards his by now familiar car, his own luggage already in the trunk where he puts yours now as well.

The moment you sit next to him inside, is when you notice how.. different he is today. Not only from looks alone- but it feels different, oddly enough. Lighter. Not as serious as he usually is. "I wondered what those.. spots were." You say, looking at him from the passenger side, and he raises his brows while stopping at a red light, turning his head towards you, who points to your own lower lip.

"Ah, yeah." He chuckles, a bit bashful. "I.. got them done in my early twenties. Took them out though, because.. I don't know." He shrugs.

"You don't know, of do you just realize that the reason was stupid?" You giggle, and he sighs, with a smile on his lips however.

"Caught me." He confesses, changing lanes as he makes his way to the airport.

"Why'd you put them back in?" You ask, leaning against the car door a bit.

"Because I wanted to be myself." He explains. "I.. like I said. I want you to get to know me. And not the person I became to please others around me." He tells you.

"I assume your.. ex wife didn't like the piercings?" You ask, testing how far you can pry into his past and how much you can poke until he tells you off. But much to your surprise, he seems rather unfazed by the topic.

"She hated my tattoos as well. Wanted me to get them removed constantly." He chuckles, and you're intrigued.

"You've got tattoos as well?" You ask, and he nods.

"Maybe I'll let you see them later?" He flirts, and you grin to yourself, adjusting your legs a little as you stay quiet. "Either way, Evelyn didn't like a lot about me."

"Then why did she marry you?" You ask, noticing too late how mean that question could come off.

"Probably for my bank account." He simply laughs. "I was.. stupid. I thought she was fixing me." He shakes his head. "I thought she only had my best interest in mind." He says, setting his turn lights to enter the airport parking area. "But she always hated me. Still does." He sighs, searching for a proper parking spot.

"Well, I don't hate you." You tell him.

"Yet." He mumbles, before he finally parks the car, turning off the engine. "Do you have your passport and everything on hand? Don't wanna have to unpack everything in a rush later at check-in." He tries to change the topic, but you look at him with eyes so soft that he becomes scared of them.

"Jungkook." You say his name, and he hates how kind it sounds. "As long as you're not like him, I won't hate you. Honestly, I don't even hate him." You tell him, and he nods a bit stiffly, before practically escaping the car, instead putting on his jacket before helping you take out your suitcase and handbag.

Inside the airport, he notices your nervousness, hand constantly reaching out but never holding on to him at all, in any way. It makes him chuckle a little as he watches you fight with yourself for quite a while, before he helps you check in.

You're clearly a bit overstimulated by everything going on around you, looking around anxiously, biting the inside of your lips constantly, even as you both sit down to wait for your gate to open for boarding. "Hey-" He reaches out to tug your lip from your teeth with his thumb, before he smiles in reassurance. "Okay?" He wonders, and you nod, though you're not looking at him. "Come here. You can hold onto me, by the way, if that helps you." Jungkook suggests, and you move your arms to wrap around one of his, body scooting closer to lean your face against his shoulder, sweater soft against your skin. He moves his arm around your shoulders to keep you closer, hand offering itself for you to hold instead, and you do so, fingers cold. "What's that scar?" He wonders, thumb running over a faint scar over the palm of your hand.

"A shoelace." You say, a little quietly.

"A shoelace?" He repeats, and you nod.

"Yeah." You confirm. "I had.. I was in the midst of changing the laces of.. Gregory's boots, because the dog had chewed them. But he got mad anyways, and pulled them out of my hand." You remember. "It happened really quickly, but I remember that it hurt badly." You chuckle. "It was an odd pain. Like my body couldn't decide whether or not I was burned or cut."

Jungkooks hand on your shoulder starts to move a little in a soothing motion, fingers circling around. It's his first confirmation that something did indeed happen, and he's almost convinced that what you just told him was probably not an isolated incident, but simply one of many that went down during your entire relationship.

"I didn't want him to get mad at Yogi. He already hated the poor dog enough." You sigh, closing your eyes as you settle against Jungkook's side. He enjoys this close proximity, the domestic feel of this moment, even though it's out in public and for everyone to see. He doesn't care.

"You can heal with me, you know?" He says, and you look up at him from where you're leaning against his body. "I can't promise you that.. our time spent will be all smooth sailing, but I can assure you that it will be nothing like what you've experienced." He hums towards you.

And you smile warmly, sighing. "Don't worry-" you giggle, closing your eyes.

"-It already is."

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

The hotel room is spacious, expensive looking, nothing like you've seen before.

Usually, you only really get to see things like these on vacation photos your friends show you- you yourself don't really travel, you technically don't take time off at all, rather always asking to have your off-days paid out instead if possible. You've got no reason to treat yourself with anything, be it time off or a full on vacation.

Your sense of self worth has shriveled up like rotten fruit over the years, now thrown out like the garbage it is.

Jungkook meanwhile clearly has a routine in him, as he walks through every room first to check if everything's okay, just to then place his bag somewhere near the bed, a big yawn escaping him as he opens the balcony door wide, letting the air of the seaside in. It's odd to see him dressed rather casual, simple but expensive sweater stretching over his broad back. His face still shows the clear stress he's accumulated, and it makes you wonder.

"Do you.. go on vacations often?" You wonder, and he shakes his head.

"No, usually I only fly out for business trips." He explains, watching you sit on the edge of the twin-sized bed. "I originally thought I should book two single beds, by the way. I just.. thought it might be more intimate like this." He tells you, leaning against the small balcony's edge outside, glass door open, as the wind blows through the curtains a little.

"It's okay like this." You nod, making him smile softly.

"Do you want to rest a little?" He asks, and you shrug, unsure. You only have three days- if you sleep now, it's probably annoying to him since he most likely planned something on this trip for you both to do. He at least comes across as someone who likes to have everything set out and structured- not like you, who dives in head first without any real plan. You don't want him to stay hidden inside the hotel room just because you're tired from the flight. "Hey." He asks, and you didn't even notice him squatting down in front of where you sit, his hands on your knees as he finds your eyes from where he's looking up at you. "Don't hesitate to speak your mind. If we want this to work, we need honestly, first and foremost." He encourages, and you nod.

"I'm tired- but I don't want to be boring." You worry.

"How would taking a nap be boring?" he chuckles. "I'm actually glad you're tired. I didn't want to come off as an old man who needs a break because he can't keep up." He laughs, standing up before he moves to lay down on the bed, patting the spot right next to him.

You lay down where he wordlessly suggested, taking in a deep breath while focusing your eyes on the collar of his sweater for a moment. It's when your gaze roams around that you notice something poke out on his wrist as he turns back around from removing his watch from the other arm. Your fingers curiously lift the fabric of the sleeve, making him chuckle quietly, before he moves to push the fabric up to his elbow, exposing different colors of ink underneath his skin.

What was Jungkook like when he was younger? Has he always been somewhat like this- or has he changed into this instead?

"Got them done in my early twenties too." He explains quietly. "Just.. lineart at first. Black and white." Jungkook remembers as he watches you trace some of the lines with your finger. "Then it got more. Over time, it looked a little messy- so I added color to it, this time actually going to a professional who specifies in forming sleeves." He tells you.

"Do you regret them?" You wonder. "Like.. your piercings and your tattoos?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"It's not like I regret them." He denies. "I still like the look of them. The aesthetic of it. It's just.." He sighs, inked hand turning around palm up, and you put your own on top of his, making him move to compare your hand sizes palm to palm. "..they don't feel like me anymore." He shrugs.

"Maybe because they aren't." You offer, now holding his hand with both of yours, your eyes on the blurred ink underneath the skin. "Maybe.. you changed. Even though you didn't want to."

He did. He knows that he did- but what he struggles with, is the question if he can even go back now. He wants to, but at this point, he feels like he's crossed that line by now, too far to step back and take a different path. Most people around him nowadays only now this Jungkook, not the one he used to be. If he just reverts back to who he once was, will he lose every friendship and connection he's made after he married?

Marriage. The moment he changed.

Love can make someone truly blind to a lot of things. He overlooked so many warning signs, pushed old friends and even family away just because they saw what he did not- or more so refused to. He's not spoken to his own parents in years, by now too ashamed to admit that he'd been wrong for the entirety of his past relationship, that his mother was right about her. What would she think about you?

She'd like you, he's very sure about that. His father would probably be a little suspicious of the age gab, and his brother would most likely tease the living daylights out of him, but he knows you'd fit right in. Do you have a good relationship with your parents? What would they think of him?

He wants to ask you, but the moment he becomes aware and snaps out of his thoughts, your eyes are already closed, breathing even. You're still holding onto him, and he realizes that he's never actually had a moment like this with Evelyn in the past, not even when they were just a regular couple, and definitely not after they got married. He feels.. free. No pressure on him, no obligations awaiting him, nothing needed or expected from him. You're simply sleeping, and yet the act itself makes his pride swell, because of your display of trust towards him.

He knows you've been hurt. He knows that he's been hurt-

And maybe, just maybe, together, you can finally begin heal.

Change once more, for a final time, into a happier version of yourselves.

[signed-loni]

So can we have sally face chacter (by sally face characters I mean the gang: Ash, Larry, Sal) with a fem! S/O that is kinda like the fem version of rodrick from the diary of a wimpy kid like shes a rough person and in a band and etc also her style being similar to this u dont have to do it lol have a good rest of ur day and drjnk water pls :)

ARRRRRRRGGJHH I LOVE THIS STYLE SM

Anyhooooo YESS!!

Warnings: cusssing, reader is fem!

Sal 🎭

Sal is like fucking crazy for you

LOVES THAT YOUR IN A BAND

(My bfs a drummer AND LEMME TELL YOU, PEOPLE WHO ARE IN BANDS R HOT ASF)

He loves when you come over to his house and just mindlessly play ur drums while he tells you about his day/ olays hus guitar

Since your literally rodrick, your gonna be the oldest out of two sisters

Your little sister, whos in middle school, you LOVE to poke fun at.

Sal saw you making fun of her and was a bit concerned, but realized you were just playing around and was like “phew”

“Sup ugly? Y’gonna go see that loser friend of yours or what?” U say to your little sister “rachel is NOT a loser! Shes just different.” Your sister says back “whatever you say nerd.” You say and bring sal back up to your room

“Were..you being serious?” Sal asks, a bit quiet “huh? Oh,no. I love her, thats just how we show our love. She knows i dint actually mean that” you respond back, 100% honestly “oh! Ok.” Sal replies, a bit relieved

Comes to LITERALLY all of your band performances! Doesnt miss a single one and is your biggest supporter EVER.

probably owns every single piece of merch your band sells, and his room is just LITTERED with things from ur band

Your band mates can b fuckin jerks ngl

they comment on ur bfs mask and ur like “The fuck??? Uhm not to my fucking face i think tf not”

You probably beat then tf up or smth idfk

🤎Larry🍃

“so we fuckin with ur band music playin or nah?”

much like sal. Comes to every one of ur band practices and fuckin jams out to ur shit

Has all of ur guys’ music on a cd or vinyl

acc fuckin obsessed w u

likes to go on liquor store dates w u (kinda like the part in rodrick rules where him and greg go to the liquor store ykwim)

Acts offended when ur mean to him as a joke

”Babe! What the hell! I thought u loved me😞”

“Larry, listen CLOSELY, theres no fuckin way your laying a HAND on my drums. Theres just no way. I know u have cheeto fingers. Dont even think about it”

Laughs hysterically every single time u say smth “mean” to ur sisters.

but thats mostly bc hes normally high out of his mind

speaking of which, GETTING HIGH WHILE U GUYS R PLAYING UR INSTRUMENTS OR SMTH LIKE THAT. HOLY FUCK.

idk what its called, but when ur partner takes a hit and blows it into ur mouth, HOLY SHIT THATS FUCKING HOT

does that w u all the time btw

probably snuck into ur room one time to play ur drums, and right as u walked in u saw him, and literally slapped the FUCK outta him. Its was hilarious

overall loves the crap outta u and is so supportive of ur music career, always telling ppl at school or sm to listen to u guys play and gives them the address to ur guys’ next performance

best bf ever

sry i didnt add ash, lost motivation

[mylovenox]

Can you pls pls pls do a Rodrick Heffley x trans(ftm) reader?? I’m in desperate need of more of that!!!

Maybe some smut-ish hc for him? 👉👈

AGHH BABE YESS🙄🤚🏻

Warnings: (hot emo boy) nsfw/smut, some curse words, uh I’m not sure what others but please lmk<3

GIVE ME MORE REQUESTS BABESS

Not my gif

Rodrick Heffley hcs (some smut)

⋆I feel like if you were insecure about being trans ftm (NO HATE PLEASE-) or felt like you didn’t feel “boy enough”, he’d spin you around and grip your shoulders (gently ofc-) and say things like “don’t you ever say that okay?” Or “you are a boy, you got the doofus?” And maybe give you a gentle kiss on the lips or head ^^

⋆I kinda randomly thought of this- but IF and only IF you were okay with it, I feel like he’d use hes drumsticks and gently pat them on you’re ass if you were laying on your stomach, like nowhere ever would he intend or want to make it hurt and if he ever hurt you on accident he’d feel absolutely HORRIBLE-

⋆when cuddling he’ll comb through you’re hair with his hands, it’s easier to do that if your face is facing his chest so definitely expect a face full of his armpit or chest

⋆we all know mans sleeps with his shirt off too soooo- 😻

⋆he definitely LOVES. ABSOLUTELY LOVES- be praised.

⋆LIKE PLEASEEEE

⋆PRAISE HIM.

⋆HE NEEDS IT.

⋆on another note I feel like if your giving him head or a handjob he’d get a bit whiny- 😫

⋆and or maybe buckle his hips up every now and then 😇

⋆I feel like he’d like to praise you more then degrade you if yall are going at it-

⋆he might degrade a little but you’ll have to beg for it-

⋆he likes positions where he can see your face/facial expressions, butterfly against the walls, cowgirl but in this sense cowboy:), Missionary, so on-

⋆you definitely come to his band practice (as if you aren’t always with him😻)

⋆loves to play the drums for you, loves watching your eyes follow his next move and smile when he plays😽

⋆slow make outs and rough make outs 😇

⋆also like- bro can be a lil sassyyy🙄💅🏻

⋆you and him definitely prank Greg all the time

⋆if you have hair ties because maybe you do- and you left them at his house you’d definitely find them on his wrists

⋆AGHH TIE HIS HAIR IN A LIL PONY. PLEASE.

⋆dates are going skating or building forts and watching movies in them 🙈

⋆if you’re giving him head he’d definitely rub your head or cheek and maybe push your face down more but only if your okay with that😇

⋆drives you to and from school, his band members have to sit in the back, you always get the front, because duh you’re passenger prince🙄

⋆definitely gives you lots of hickeys.

⋆LOADS OF EM

⋆definitely at first will ask you a bunch if it hurts or hurts to much

⋆he’ll LOWKEY tease and bully you all the time-

⋆but he in reality is SO in love with you.

⋆every Valentine’s Day he gets you flowers that are either your favorite or fav color, fav bag of chocolates and I feel like he might attempt to write you a card but his hand writing is probably shit asf-

⋆when he asks you out he’s definitely super SUPER nervous you’ll say no so there’s like a 50/50% chance that one of his friends will do it for him or he’ll ask one of you’re friends to tell you

⋆OKAY BUT- bracelet dates kinda sound like a thing-

⋆and he’d ALWAYS wear the bracelet you made him.

-firm grip on your hips or wrists as you ride him.

Always

(I’ll have to write more😇)

Not my gif, gif found on Pinterest

[unicorncornflakes]

Family Sins - Part 2 || Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (Coming soon)

Paring: Reader x Aemond Targaryen.

Summary: Every Thursday afternoon you and Aemond meet, even if you have to pay for his family's sins.

Tags: Alternate Universe/ Emotional Hurt/Angst/ Drama & Romance/ Eventual Smut.

Warnings: As I promised, I turn this into a series. Hope you like it!

General Tag-List (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know): @thedamewithabook @bluevxnus @hiddencurator @tempt-ress @watercolorskyy @tsujifreya @qyburnsghost

Tag-List for this series (If you wanna be tagged in thi series or all of my work, let me know): @n4tforlife

Author´s note:  Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Word Count: 4.1 K

You always took that trip in the back of Gregory's truck. Always there. You liked that road. It was the only one that was paved in the town every summer. It was the entrance to it and it was always driving and fast, ensuring that the truck never slowed down or encountered potholes. That was always a delight on autumn afternoons. With the wind against your face, the vehicle accelerated and you felt alive after having spent the last two weeks stuck at home.

The wind against the face.

The feeling of speed.

You took a deep breath as you walked down that road. That was feeling alive. Feeling alive at last. You leaned your head against the glass of the driver's cabin. Inside you could hear a local station broadcasting the latest news, but outside, on that afternoon of trees with yellow and orange leaves, you only heard the sound of the wind cutting against your ears. Tomorrow will be Thursday. You were thinking about whether you would visit Aemond that Thursday. Bones rested his head on your lap. The old dog always accompanied you on each of the trips you took in the truck. You thought he liked feeling the wind on his face even more than you did.

You tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear and lightly brushed the bump on your cheek. Now it was yellow and it barely hurt, barely. Greg's blows had hurt you, but you had discovered that what really hurt you was something close to the soul, that entity so abstract and impossible to locate within the body. What had hurt you was receiving blows from someone you had trusted until that moment. Anguish had gathered in your chest and anxiety had barely let you breathe in the following hours. That was a different kind of pain that surpassed the physical one, you would never understand why. Greg had watched you silently, his huge eyes caressing your cheekbones or his hands touching your nose. It had been gentle, childlike caresses while in the next room your mother continued to yell at Gregory for what he had done. At least, he hadn't knocked you unconscious. That was all your brother repeated over and over again. He had said you were the dragon whore and your mother had punched him in the face. Her eyes cold against your brother's, but even she knew you were a traitor. She knew that the heart couldn't be controlled, but what was happening to her was thats he couldn't understand how you could give Aemond your love after everything that had happened with your older sister. She didn't understand it, nor did she share it.

Then your father arrived, tired, as he always ended each day at the bar, and he hadn't even asked what was happening. Silent and exhausted, he had gone to his bed and slept until the next day. Roy had already told him who they had seen you with and he would have to get up the next day the same, like every morning, until the rest of his days.

Bones yawned and laid his head back down on your lap. That feeling of the wind against your face was the closest feeling to flying that you were ever going to have, flying was the closest feeling to flying with dragons that you could experience. Aemond always explained that feeling every time he told you about the flights he took in his father's small plane at the old airfield near the town. He had always said he would take you there, but he never had. The opportunity had never arisen for you to see each other beyond those Thursdays that always made your legs tremble. You leaned your head back against the glass and closed your eyes. Should you go see Aemond tomorrow? Could you?

A small plane passed over you, heading towards the old airfield, and you wondered if it was Aemond enjoying what he had told you made him feel free: flying.

Inside the truck, Greg pointed to something in the sky and Gregory looked at the place where his nephew was pointing. “Yes, it's a small plane,” he commented without much encouragement, turning his eyes to the road. The boy continued looking at him in silence with his enormous eyes. The truth was that Greg's huge purple eyes, along with his silver hair, always managed to irritate Gregory, but lately he was calmer. The guilt for hitting you still ran through his mind, but... How could you be as stupid as Bella? How could you be? The Targaryens had never brought anything good to the town, not one of them. They had polluted the river with the factory they had there, they had cut down a large part of the forest... they had destroyed a large part of the lives of the town with the illegal trafficking of weapons and drugs... they were the villains of Gregory's film and, yet, you… You still came every Thursday to spread your legs for one of them. What was going through your mind? You... you had always been the clever one. What was happening to you?

Gregory watched as Greg continued pointing to the sky. Still looking at him with those two huge eyes. “It's just a plane, Greg,” he replied again, almost desperate. He could never understand that child. He didn't know how you could do it. It was something that was beyond his complete knowledge. “What's itching you now, Greg?” he moaned, almost desperate to understand him.

A knock on the driver's cabin glass woke you up from one of the few moments you had to yourself. You looked over your shoulder and saw Gregory pointing at Greg. So both of them almost seemed comical, but Gregory was still the one who had beaten you up barely two weeks ago. "What happens?" You were able to read your older brother's lips and looked at Greg who looked back at you knowingly. You simply formed a kind of dove with your hands and the boy looked at you completely focused while you smiled at him.

Gregory looked forward angrily. Well, it was just some dragon shit you had between you or some similar bullshit. Greg stayed calm after a few moments looking at you and put one of the cereals in his mouth from the bag he was carrying on his lap. Your older brother thought at that moment that neither of you were to blame for what was happening in the town, but you were his pressure valve, Gregory's pressure valve. He turned off the radio and sighed, listening simply as the truck cut through the wind. If Bella were still alive, things would be a lot easier.

“Grab a damn bag and let's go. We're already late” Aemond whispered to Aegon as he continued to laze in front of the bags of chips from the supermarket that was a couple of kilometers from the entrance to the town. Recently, Aegon's license had been revoked and now his older brother had to be his private driver every time they visited their parents in town. That was where Alicent and Viserys had retreated, surrounded by trees and vegetation to help calm their mother's nerves and their father's rampant illness.

"Hurry?" Aegon grabbed a bag and put it back in the same place, getting on his younger brother's nerves. “I thought it was on Thursdays when you ran to get between (Y/N)'s legs,” he laughed sardonically while he didn't even look at him and continued walking through the shelves of that supermarket. Aemond confronted him as he said your name and Aegon laughed in his face again. “You should buy the condoms here. No one would go around town talking about the size or quantity you buy,” he mocked him. That was the only thing Aegon seemed to know how to do. Making fun of his brother.

Aemond pursed his lips tightly and tried unsuccessfully to ignore his brother's comment. He had only stopped there because of Aegon's insistence on buying a damn bag of Snacks. According to him, he was going to die of hunger. Aemond was going to die of nerves because of his older brother. “Which flavor do you think is the best?” Aegon asked him as Aemond followed him.

“I don't know, you're not going to eat it in the car,” he scolded. He didn't eat inside his car. Aemond had no children but he thought he was getting plenty of practice for when the time came with Aegon. “Grab any bag and let's go. Father and mother are waiting for us.”

At that moment, Aemond first caught a glimpse of a boy with silver hair walking through the halls while eating from a bag containing cereal. One after another he put them in his mouth in a timid and childish manner. He knew that Aeron's development was far from adequate for a child his age, but then, Aegon was his father. Aemond didn't know how that could influence that child's genetics. Aemond tortured himself for being so cruel, but he couldn't help it. Why hadn't Aegon been careful with your sister? Behind him you appeared in the distance. You grabbed his hand as you scolded him. Probably because he walked away. Why should Aegon's hunger have been awakened at a time like this? It almost seemed like he did it knowingly. Although it was just a coincidence. In truth, he was glad to see you. He hadn't heard from you for two Thursdays. He had written to you, he had but as always he had received no response. It almost seemed like your meetings were reduced to what you did in that motel room every Thursday.

“Barbecue flavor, I've already chosen,” he told his brother, putting the bag on his chest. Aemond, with his hands behind his back as he looked at you, had no choice but to grab the bag while his brother laughed sarcastically.

“She's as hot as her sister,” he laughed and Aemond wanted to kill him. That boy was his son. That was the family he had torn apart and he almost didn't seem to care. It seemed as if Aegon only knew how to think with part of his body.

“Do you ever think about the things you've done?” his younger brother asked and Aegon just laughed.

“Alcohol, drugs… help you forget,” he said without any responsibility, as if he were still a teenager. “Don't worry, from now on you'll know what it means to truly belong to the family” he patted her shoulder where his tattoo was now. No, Aemond had planned to take his new role within the family with much more responsibility than his brother showed.

Aemond saw you treating Aeron gently and thought that you would be the mother of his children. Such a childish and innocent thought in a man who should have stopped those fantasies, but he really held out that little hope. That hope that he didn't share with absolutely anyone. You were beautiful. Simply beautiful and sweet. Perfect. That's the only word that came to mind every time he saw you. He continued staring at you enthralled when your older brother appeared right behind you, pushing a shopping cart.

“What an asshole,” Aegon whispered under his breath, and Aemond knew he had found the perfect moment to leave. He didn't want to confront Gregory and his brother. It had been enough that they had hit each other two Thursdays ago. If he had been alone, perhaps he would have approached and asked about Aeron, but he was not alone and he knew that Gregory hated him, but the one he couldn't see even in painting was Aegon. However, something caught his attention.

Your cheekbone.

Your cheekbone looked beaten and bruised.

What if you hadn't gone to see him during those two weeks because you had...? His blood boiled in a single moment. He wanted to reach out, grab your face, hold you there until you told him what had happened that Thursday night. He thought that you hadn't come because your parents had forbidden you and you were waiting for tempers to calm down, or that you hadn't done so to avoid being the town gossip for a couple of weeks. But, if someone had hit you... may the gods have mercy on him, because he planned to destroy him.

Aegon lowered his sunglasses, showing the bruise that was firmly imprinted on his eye. Without a doubt, the beating that Gregory had given him just for meeting him in his favorite roadhouse had not been enough to calm Aegon's spirits, after all the Targaryens always got their way in that place. “Looks like I'm not the only one who got hit last Thursday,” he commented with his lower lip still split, and that did make Aemond lose his temper.

Aegon smiled just as he saw him approach with his always slow and sure step towards you. Well, there would be a fight for sure. There was nothing in this world that Aegon liked more than a fight.

You were leaving some vegetables in the cart when you felt someone grab your arm. You just looked up and your eyes filled with shame and regret. Aemond was there, silently inspecting the bruise on your cheekbone. One of his thumbs grazed the wound and you just whimpered in pain. “Aem…” you started whispering. You grabbed his wrist. “Please…” you looked around. Everyone was whispering around you. You would be the talk of the town again that day. Shame was the only thing you could feel, shame and…

“That looks bad,” laughed Aegon right behind him, who still had not put on his sunglasses again. “It had to be a good blow”

“It's all good, okay? “Don't worry,” you whispered again and released your grip when Gregory just appeared there, grabbing Aemond's sweater. You instinctively grabbed Gregory's arm as he raised his fist. Aemond was still expressionless, as if inviting your brother to hit him. They both knew who had the upper hand in that fight.

“Gregory, stop,” you yelled at your brother as you grabbed his raised fist again. Your brother spat in Aemond's face and reluctantly released him. You watched as Aemond cleaned himself, incredulous at what had happened, as if the act of spitting on him had been much worse than hitting him. He wiped your brother's saliva with the back of his hand. The fingers were sticky from that substance and the ego was very wounded. Gregory, who had always been much shorter than the Targaryen brothers but much more muscular, looked at him, breathing heavily, as if he had to control himself for what was just going to happen.

However, Aemond, who had always been the calm brother, stirred under his older brother's watchful approving gaze and grabbed Gregory by the front of his shirt. Now the one with his fist raised was Aemond. “Aem…” he heard you sob and simply let it go, looking at the ground almost embarrassed by his reaction.

“I just want to protect you” was what he responded, passing right by you and leaving your brother lying on the ground. You were surprised how both men wanted to defend you from each other.

Aemond had never had outbursts of anger, or at least none like that. The tattoo had changed him. His new position within the family had done so. You just looked at the ground to quickly go help Gregory up. It would be worse if you didn't. Your older brother stood up with difficulty. Breathing heavily as Aemond walked away. Aegon laughed, but just as he was putting his sunglasses back on, Greg looked at him with his huge purple eyes. He put a cereal in his mouth again and offered it to the one he didn't know was his father. The eldest Targaryen stared at him in silence, as if he saw something in the boy that he had never seen before.

“Greg, come,” you took his hand and the boy accepted your hold without any opposition while Aegon put his glasses back on, hiding what you hoped was a look of guilt. Gregory shoved him with his shoulder as he picked up the cart again, almost trying to provoke Aegon, but he ignored him and just followed his younger brother.

Everyone around you looked at you. You grabbed Greg's hand and almost dragged him as you made the purchase faster than usual.

The sins of the fathers. Simply all of you were going to pay for the sins of the Targaryen family.

That Thursday it was raining heavily again. You heard one drop after another fall in that cheap motel room. The window supported them all. Aemond had sat on the edge of the bed. With his shirt off, the dragon tattoo on his shoulder almost looked more shocking and impressive than last time. He supported all his weight on his arms while still sitting there. The fly was lowered and the glans once again showing through the elastic of that boxer. He looked at you as if you were a work of art. His only eye on you while you simply took off the t-shirt that you were wearing again under that sweatshirt.

Neither of you had exchanged a word that Thursday afternoon, not even about what had happened at the supermarket the day before. Silence always seemed to be a maxim of your relationship. But, just as you took off your shirt, revealing the scrapes and bruises that were on your left rib, you saw how Aemond changed his smile for a grimace of regret. As if he were the ultimate culprit for what had happened to you. He brought you closer to him and inhaled your aroma of that cheap blackberry cologne that always managed to drive him crazy. His hands went to your back as his fingers began to dig into your skin. His right hand traced the line of your back from bottom to top, sending a pleasant shiver that made you smile. You never knew how he did it, but your bra fell to the floor. You had always preferred not to think about the number of girls he had had to be with for that movement to come out so fluidly.

A small moan of pain escaped your lips just as he grabbed your right breast to take it into his mouth. Your nipple had already become aroused from that simple contact, but the skin near your ribs had also been stretched by Aemond's grip. He just looked at you with concern. “Hmm” was all he mulled as he finally took that delicate piece of meat into his mouth and sucked on it as if his life depended on it. His gaze fixed on you. He bit and licked it several times under your watchful gaze while you just laughed and moaned. That was music to his ears. He thought he liked it more than his favorite classical music station.

He sucked hard again to end up biting that nipple that was more than sensitive due to his attention. He smiled when he saw how simply with that he already had you at his mercy. You groaned and closed your eyes. You lifted your face with a smile and scratched Aemond's shoulder. Your black-tipped but destroyed nails, because you bit them too, dug into his tattoo. He simply stopped and smiled at you, still not letting go of the breast he held in his hand.

"Do you like it?" was all he asked you as you snapped back to reality. You knew he wasn't referring to what he had just finished doing, but to the damn tattoo where your hand now rested. You moved your hand away, almost as if it was going to burn you, and pushed him onto the bed with a mischievous smile. Aemond dropped down, while bringing his hands behind his neck. That gesture told Aemond that the last thing you wanted to talk about was that new mark on his skin that made him so proud.

You positioned yourself on top of him and ran the wet fabric from your crotch through the elastic of his boxers. Aemond didn't need more to know that you were ready and he fucked you hard. He turned you on top of him and pinned you to the mattress, grabbing your hair. You pursed your lips in silence. Aemond had never been so rude to you before. He let go of your hair for a moment and you saw him take a condom out of one of his pants pockets. He opened it again with his teeth and pulled just his cock out of his pants to put it in one quick motion.

His strong hand crushed you again against the pillows of that cheap bed and you felt his free hand pull down your panties without any shame. The cold air of that autumn afternoon collided with the warm, soaked wetness of your crotch and you laughed at the pleasurable effect it always seemed to give you. Aemond tightened his grip on your hair again as he heard you laugh. "Mine. You are only mine,” he whispered between his teeth. A quick lunge.

"I'm going to protect you." Another one, fast and fast.

“And you're going to tell me who the fucking bastard was that did that to you” his balls slammed against your pussy again, sending almost pleasurable shivers throughout your body. Another moan of yours escaped your lips. “Fuck,” you heard him moan almost in desperation. That time you weren't making love, he just wanted to teach you a lesson. A lesson about who you belonged to, about who was going to protect you, about what he had become.

“That son of a bitch is going to know what it's like to touch a dragon's girl,” he hissed the last word through his teeth. He moaned. That's what he had become. A Dragon. You knew what it meant and you even feared the consequences of it. He crashed his hips against yours again, he went in and out without any shame on your part... and your body reacted to it as always. With the same intensity and desire. Even if you knew that Aemond was not the one you had met.

“Hmm, I could go to reception and pay for the whole night,” he whispered to you as he stroked the bruise again. You smiled. With Aemond everything seemed simple. Much more than it actually was. You bit your bottom lip and he only knew whether to open his lips to catch you in a slow kiss. He pressed your body to his. "Would you like that?" He whispered to you again as his eye devoured you in silence.

“It’s getting late,” you whispered just as Aemond ran his thumb over your bruised cheekbone again. Lying facing each other, you were still tangled between the sheets of that bed. It was late, but you weren't moving and neither was he. That bed seemed like the only safe place those days. The truth was that you were afraid that your brother would hit you again. You were afraid that your father would find out that you were finally with a Dragon. You feared what Aemond had become.

“I would love to, but I don't want Gregory to go back to…” you realized what you were just going to say. You punished yourself. But, just then you saw Aemond getting out of bed. “Aem, where are you going?” you asked him, scared. You knew where he was going, of course you did, you weren't stupid enough not to understand that Aemond finally knew what you had kept quiet all that time. Your own mind had betrayed you and Aemond was not going to leave that in the air.

“That asshole was the one who touched you and rest assured that I am going to teach him what it means to touch my things” you saw him out of his mind, like you had never seen before. He dressed quickly while you tried to stop him. “Don't try to defend that son of a bitch,” he yelled at you, without looking at you. Just moving away with his arm. He breathed heavily and you didn't dare touch him again.

He left the room, leaving you alone in that roadside motel, in the room that had witnessed most of the encounters he had had... that had witnessed Aemond's transformation... Finally, he was going to make his own sins.

[lexxieannie]

hi i’m gonna yap about Five Nights at Freddy’s

cw abuse, murder

okay so i rlly am just gonna spill my noggin rn cause it’s late and im Thinking.

so basically i’m trying to rlly put together my au here, greg centric cause im soooo hyperfixated on him rn.

ik security breach is supposed to be set in the future or smth but im not having none of that no siree it’s either gonna be set in present day or time ambiguous with 80s-early 2000s vibes!! but also like the timelines so messed up just ignore it for now (for story reasons mike, will, evan, elizabeth, etc. are all here too alive in well. it’s kinda like a timeline splurge.)

greg grows up in a pretty unstable home. he loves his mom a lot even tho she’s distant and not the greatest. greg’s dad was abusive so she left, taking him with her. from there on she just kinda floats from guy to guy, a lot of them rlly abusive towards both her and greg. when he’s young, one of the men end up pulling a gun on his mom, greg’s only like 7 so he obviously goes to call the police but the man throws him out and locks the door. gregory spends hours pounding on the door trying to get back in. it starts to rain and he’s cold, hungry, and scared. enter everyone’s favorite william afton!!!

very much midnight motorist. the purple car pulls up on the road behind him. william gets out to lend a hand. he can’t just let this little guy sit here in the rain!!! greg’s not like the other kids, he’s cautious and jumpy and doesn’t talk to strangers. greg’s seen him around, heard stories.

will offers to give him a ride, a dry set of clothes, but it’s clear the kids not having it.

right as will goes to grab him, the neighbors come out. williams forced to hand him over, posing as a good samaritan.

he’s seen him before. he’s in evan’s grade. he makes sure to keep an eye on him, just doing his part!

gregory ends up going in and out of some pretty bad foster families, getting kicked out, sent back, etc. after a particularly bad run that left him with a lot of physical/emotional scars, gregory runs away.

he makes it a week. cold, tired, sick, and hungry before who other than good ol bill afton shows up!!!! gregory has no other choice but to accept his offer. will takes advantage of greg’s situation and background. he lets him get into the diners and plex free of charge, even lets him beta test some of the games!!! no wonder he gets such high scores :) wills given him so much, the least he could do in return is let him use his mind sometimes!!

basically from here the entirety of ggy happens, accept greg’s finally able to snap out of it before killing tony. afton/glitchtrap gives him a choice. him or tony. the next day tony wakes up in his bed with no recollection of the night before and greg’s desk at school empty. cassie calls tony crying, having heard her dad mention an “incident” at work. gregorys missing posters go up around hurricane days later.

sb takes place and gregory is missing a lot in his memory. he knows who he is, some of his friends, but that’s about it. he’s still living on the streets and since summer started he no longer gets school lunches and amenities so he sneaks into the plex.

okay this isn’t thru but i’m going to bed pls talk to me about this. greg’s got mad tism btw ok hit post

[foxilayde]

Half of You (Part 2) [Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader]

PART 1 HERE

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Male masturbation. Language.

Summary: You accompany Santiago to his... self-love appointment.

A/N: this story is just pouring out of me. The response to Part 1 was so amazing, pls let me know if you like this and if I should keep going.

“You didn’t need to come with me.”

“I won’t be cumming with you.” You elbow him in the ribs over the lacquered pine armrests of the waiting room chairs the both of you are seated in.

“Ha ha.” Santiago rolls his eyes and fidgets his thumbs, tapping his heels on the short carpeted floor. 

“Are you nervous?” Your tone takes on a more concerned quality, you place your hand on his elbow and rub his arm with your thumb. This is a lot to ask of him. Far beyond the scope of normal friendly obligation. This isn’t helping you unload boxes on moving day, this is… cumming in a sterile cup to conceive a child. 

Santi nods. His eyes scan the room. “A little.”

You want to tell him that it’s okay, that he should relax, it’ll be over soon. That his nerves are partially to do with the fact he hasn’t ejaculated in 4 days (a tidbit of necessary information that you did not reveal to him in your dinner discussion). Instead your voice cracks when you tell him “you’ll do great!” 

He fixes a hard, stony stare onto you and you can’t help but laugh. 

“Oh come on! You’ve gotta be all pent up from not… you know. You’ll feel so good afterwards.”

Santi shakes his head, staring at his lap. “Remind me again of why I wasn’t allowed to jerk off for four days?”

“You can’t be serious.”

Santi’s eyes narrow on yours.

“Because of the sperm count!” You whisper to him, suddenly aware of the waiting room full of couples and solitary women. “The longer you abstain, the higher the count. If we want the IUI to work, then you gotta keep the count high.”

Santi sighs in defeat. “Yeah.”

“You were able to, right?”

“What?” 

“Abstain?” 

Santi’s brow furrows in incredulity. “Of course I abstained!”

“Just checking.”

“Listen, Vin. A man does not forget when someone tells him he’s not allowed to cum for 4 days.”

You definitely owe him another steak dinner. Maybe not at the same restaurant, but you make a mental note to secure a reservation once he goes to… his business. 

“Thank you.” You hastily whisper to him, patting his elbow.

He nods without looking at you. Still twiddling his thumbs, heels still rocking to and fro. 

“Garcia, Santiago!” A nurse calls from the station door. You rise with Santi.

“What are you doing?” He whispers gruffly at you as you sling your bag over your shoulder.

“I’m, coming with you, duh.”

“No you’re not.” He sets a hand on your shoulder. “You sit down here and wait for me. Or leave, go to Starbucks or something.”

You laugh and step towards the nurse. “Of course I’m going with you!” 

His eyes are wide but stern. 

“Sit down, Vin. This is a solitary activity, I’m pretty fucking sure.”

“I’m here for moral support!”

He shakes his head and places both hands on your shoulders. “Look, it’s weird enough that you tagged along to this appointment. Doctor Shepherd said it was just supposed to be me. Let me do this alone, right? Its a… it’s a fucking removed process! I—“

“Garcia, Santiago!” The nurse shouts again into the waiting room. 

You really don’t want to make this more uncomfortable for Santiago than it already is, and truthfully you hadn’t considered that joining him today would make things even MORE weird. So you acquiesce and sit back down, patting his lower back as he straightens up and makes his way to the station door. 

“Knock em dead!” You call out to him, earning a chuckle from the room of expectant mothers. A faint red flush creeps up his cheeks and he gives you the Greg Focker ‘I’m watching you’ eye-fingerpoint to which you wink at. He bites his bottom lip and shakes his head at you, pantomiming an “straight to the moon” honeymooner’s fisticuffs threat. 

He disappears behind the door and you sink back into your seat, rifling through the stack of magazines on the little table to keep yourself occupied for the next however-long.

~~~

“Garcia?” The nurse greets him dubiously, clipboard in hand.

“Yes.”

“Hmmm.” She scans the papers on her board and lifts a page, eyes darting back and forth before she drops them and, no shit, gives him a once over, tip to toe, while shaking her head. What in the fuck?

“Problem?”

“No. No, not at all. Santiago Garcia?”

“Yes.”

“No need for attitude, sir. Just making sure.”

Santi bites back the vitriol, nearly cracking his molars in the process. 

“Alright, mister Garcia” Even the way she says his name seems to be dripping with air quotes. What in the fuck? “You’re going to go into that room there where there are materials you can help yourself to. This is a sterilized cup, please don’t do anything to this cup other than catch the sample.”

“Got it.”

“Please don’t interrupt me Mr. Garcia.”

“Sorry?”

She sighs exasperatedly. “Do not spit in or lick the cup, do not put any other fluids other than ejaculate in the cup, do not rub the insides of the cup on contaminated surfaces including but not limited to your clothing, other body parts, furniture—“

“Jesus, what goes on in there?”

“Do not interrupt me, sir or I will have to ask you to vacate the premises. Do you understand?”

Santi wants to scream, to take this woman��s clipboard and break it in half on his knee. The only thing keeping him sane is the thought of Vin. This is all for Vin. Vin. Vin. Vin.

His breathing slows and he nods. “I understand. Please, continue.”

The nurse eyes him dubiously. “You’ll have a maximum of 30 minutes in there at which point an attending nurse will knock on the door. If you fill the sample before that allotted time, please seal the sample with the attached lid and bring it to this cart, right here by the station. Do you understand?” 

“Yes.”

The nurse shakes her head at Santiago slowly, sizing him up once again, her gaze lingering on the cup in his hand. He fights the urge to shout at her what the big fucking deal is, why she doesn’t think him capable of following such basic commands. But he doesn’t. He breathes evenly instead, and asks,

“Should I… may I go in there now?” Christ he just wants this over with.

The nurse narrows her eyes at him and he feels nothing but rage. 

“Go ahead.”

Santiago releases a deep breath and leans toward the nurse to read her name badge. “Thank you Nurse… Johnson. Much appreciated” 

Nurse Johnson clutches her scrub-clad chest and Santiago turns and enters the self-love room, alone at last.

``````

It’s intimidating. The amount of erotic material. Tapes line the walls like a filthy library and suddenly that 30 minute timeline doesn’t seem like enough. No doubt nurse Johnson has a thirty minute stopwatch on him and he can feel the seconds tick down his nerve-bare spine. 

“Shit” he mutters to himself, checking the spines of each video. Nothing grabs his attention and he figures he’d better calm down before attempting anything. He sinks into the armchair before thinking about how many jerk-off sessions must have taken place in it, and he’s propelling himself out of it, pacing back and forth in the cramped room.

“For Vin, for Vin, for Vin.” He repeats to himself and gives himself a slap across the cheek for good measure. The only thing that draws his cock out of his jeans is the thought of the timer running out and him not producing a sample. Coming out empty handed? It’d be ample enough reason for Nurse Johnson to give him yet another judgy ‘up and down’ and he can’t have that.

His cock is limp because he can’t stop thinking about the infuriating nurse. He lowers himself back into the questionable armchair and strokes his needy, flaccid cock in his palm. His only thought is on Vin. How he can’t let her down. He settles back more fully into the seat and scrunches his eyes against the fluorescent lights. 

Vin. Vin. Vin. He licks his lips and tells himself he’s thinking only of her desire to have a child… His child.

His cock grows hot and full at the thought, quickly swelling heavy with blood in his palm. Vin, Vin, Vin. He sees her smiling up at him. He imagines her crawling up his lap with that stupid smile of hers and kissing the shaft of his cock. He grips himself harder, thumb spreading his pre-cum over the head. Fuck. His legs relax and he tilts his head back into the recliner. 

It’s her hands on him now, not his own, that pump him straight and hard, licking slyly every now and then, the way he always thought she might. Bastard. He's a Disgusting bastard. He pulls harder on his cock, fucking up into the circle of his fist. He’s a fucking pervert, more perverted than shoving in some kind of Step-Daddy video to the player or some shit. He’s thinking about his best friend. The woman not a few yards and several walls away. She’s probably humming to herself, reading an article in the waiting room, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. God fucking dammit she’s so pretty. Fuck, if he wants to cum for her, he simply has to degrade her in his own mind, it’s the only way.

His cock wins over his brain and he pictures fucking her the way he’s pictured it a hundred times before. Shoving down those tactical pants, getting her on all fours and fucking her stupid on the nearest hard surface of anything. 

He grits his whole face shut, imagining how she would beg for it. Especially now, all baby hungry and begging for his cum, begging him to fill her up, begging him to fuck a baby into her— something he’s never considered before that steak dinner. Fuck. How the tears might gather and fall from her eyes with how hard he rams her cervix. Shit. Fuck, he’s close, he wants to give it to her so bad. Wants to fill her up, give her everything she needs, wants to kiss those pretty tears away when he… fuck shit Jesus fuck,

He manages to have enough forethought to shakily grab the sample cup and cum into it. The whole process ruining the hot fantasy in his mind. He’d rather cum without it, letting his seed spill over his pumping fist. No, he’d rather cum in her. Cum in Vin, feel the heat of it coat the head of his pounding cock in her needy pussy… but that’s not happening. That’s never going to happen. So he pants and curses, spilling himself into the stupid cup. He bites his tongue and squeezes the last drops from his cock into the cup, knowing that this ill gotten gain will be injected into her womb shortly. The thought sends a shiver up his spine and if he weren’t so god awful tired, he’d be getting hard all over again. 

END

taglist:

@miraclesabound @reallystressedhoneybee @blackberries45 @plz-and-spank-you @bit-dodgy-innit @rnlaing @stevenngrant @sharin4readers @hebelongstothestars @stardustbells @alwritey-aphrodite @libraryreservations @eroticandawkward @tripleheartx . @johnny-simpfinger @fangirlfreakingout @jake-g-lockley @lunawants

[topherwrites]

pls pls elaborate singing in the shower & spy au im so curious!! <3

"Singing in the Shower" is the tentative title for a shower sex jake fic with too much plot added in.

here's a snippet from the rough draft under the cut, 18+ only:

His voice takes on a familiar tone, the same one from flight school when he’d be picking apart why a maneuver didn’t work, or more specifically why someone else had failed at it. Like your inability to orgasm tonight is just an engineering problem. A little math, a little grease, and he can fix this. “What isn't working?” “Well, every time I get close I remember whose dick is in me.” He rolls his eyes, his voice taking on a bored tone, “We’ve established that you do not hate me enough for that." You stay silent, refusing to admit that you do not, in fact, hate him enough to deny yourself an orgasm. He hasn't done anything genuinely hackles-raising in some time, having toned down at least twenty percent of his dickishness, so there's less active resentment being worked out while you're fucking.  It's easy and fun being with him. Oh god, you like seeing his texts light up your phone. You enjoy his purposively bad sexts, that you're sure he only sends so you'll come over and fuck him to get him to stop. You come to the horrifying, jarring conclusion that he may very well be your friend, sort of. Fuck. Biting your lip, you amend, “Fine, maybe it's not that.” “I gathered.” He nudges you, “I can tell something’s going on up there, wanna fill me in?” “No.” You admit with a little sigh, “I don't know.” “Well, I'm tired, so we’re just going to sit here.” “Sorry, my pussy is broken today.” Your phrasing draws a little stomach-tensing laugh out of him, eyes creasing as he looks at you. His perfectly calloused palms slide up and down your thighs. His lips are curved into a soft little smile. “It’s fine.” “You can just…” your eyes focus on a water droplet on his collarbone, eyebrows jumping in allusion, unable to really say it, “if you want to.” He catches the implication; he can just get off and be done with it if he wants. Annoyance twists his features, his brow furrowing, though it doesn't feel wholly directed at you. “Jesus, I can feel myself getting soft,” he scoffs, “You're not a fleshlight.” And you actually can feel him start to lose his erection under you.

The spy au I'm currently working on came about mostly cause I saw Greg Tarzan Davis in the newest Mission Impossible and simply couldn't help myself. I also love spy stuff, I've always been intrigued by media that had spies in it since I was a kid. I grew up watching the Bond movies and shows like Nikita, Covert Affairs, Burn Notice, and Chuck. Most of which have a decidedly more pg or pg-13 tone than my au.

I'm planning on it being a few different interconnected series (maybe?).

All of their call signs and the nicknames for the reader are codenames in this.

So, an agent who was previously presumed dead, Spectre, she and Jake, aka Hangman, were partners and after her death he was never really the same. He's been on desk duty for the past two years.

Bob, an analyst on the team, was asked by Jake to put an indefinite facial recognition alert for her. So it kicks off with him getting a hit for her in London. The Operations Manager, Mav, brings Bradley onto the case, ordering him not to tell Jake about the revelation until they know more, and sending him to London to track Spectre down.

There in London, to play nice with a foreign government and give the impression that they respect jurisdiction, he's teamed up with an MI5 agent, Rook.

Shit spirals from there.

here's a snippet:

A last wet little gurgle leaves his throat as he goes still, his eyes left staring toward nothing. His head hangs back limply, red clinging to the corners of his slack mouth, the viscera of his throat exposed. Blood rhythmically drips to the floor. The pool grows beneath him. This sort of thing used to shake you, now you just follow a well-run routine, not necessarily numb, but devoid of the emotions doing something as grotesque as this should provoke. Violence should stir, you know this, you used to be stirred by it.  The first time you killed someone it was sloppy and panicked, you cried afterward. Mav sealed it with the stamp of self-defense, a good kill, but it didn't rid you of the lingering feeling of being damned. Maybe, the last vestiges of growing up catholic. You used to be a mourner, silently giving them their last rights, knowing the weight of every life. A witness to people’s final drawn breaths. Now, you're a butcher. You don't leave the blood for long, scrubbing your hands in the sink before it settles and dries in the cracks.

[panelshowsource]

ok i finally listened and i watched taskmaster nz series 2...8 times

and i'm ready to offer my reaction & thoughts but please understand this is over 3000 words (which means it is too long to proofread) and it is so bc i do not know how to be concise but also bc i decided to a PROPER brain dump so if you like reading this kind of thing enjoy and if you don't do not click keep reading!!!

STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS WORD VOMIT INCOMING

i KNOW what i said. i KNOW i said i'd kinda watched s1 of taskmaster nz and it was okay and jeremy and paul were okay and guy william's outfit scarred me for life but all in all it was okay, and i can't say nz humour (which, and i stand by this, is a bit monotonous) is my fave, and i wasn't that excited about watching international taskmasters in general so i wasn't prioritising it. i know what i said!!!!!!!!!

but

i did what i was told incessantly to do and i watched taskmaster nz series 2. it's...it is. it is what everyone said it is. it's fucking hilarious. it's so good. it's one of it not the example of a perfect cast with perfect energy and synergy and banter and friendship and competition. everyone tried so hard and succeeded and failed in their own hilarious ways. the tasks are half-original, kinda-inspired (if not appropriated), simple even when they're cerebral, and very core-of-taskmaster-y. CHEF'S KISS — by tm nz standards

i watched the entire series...8 times? i have A LOT of opinions and i wasn't gonna get into all of them because i don't love to debate and am scared of being roasted lmao, but i'm being brave!!

BUCKLE UP FOR MY BRAIN

➜ imo there is no standout contestant, it's a matter of taste and they're GREAT, but all in all i think the season wouldn't have a single chance of being what it was — in its total chaos, moments of innocence, moments of genuine friendship — without david correos, who was more or less the heart of the season. it's very obvious and very cute he is friends with paul, laura, and guy irl (guy mentioned their team is actually in an improv group together he's very close to laura and presumably david), and real-life friendships bring out a series panel's comfortable dynamic much faster than if they're meeting for the first time. and on that note —

➜ as much as i enjoy non-comedians on the show, especially when they're people i really like, the cold hard truth is that the very very very best series of taskmaster are comedian-only lineups. pls do not come into my inbox rn with your recency bias and yell about s16 this is a dead serious, studied fact: series 1, 2, 4, 5, 7, 9 (i am excluding recent-ish series because legacy takes time to establish itself but imo 12–14 were very strong) being the epitome of tm, it's not a coincidence these lineups are more or less ALL standup comedians (richard osman gets a pass for producing cats does countdown and being, arguably, the ultimate comedy superfan). a big reason for this is that non-comedians — and they almost always admit this, in interviews or on the podcast — are very aware that they're out of their element, are the odd ones out, feel the additional responsibility of having to find their place and suss out the dynamic and be funny and fit in. sometimes they're not really that funny and it is what it is (and it's the show's job to edit them and encourage them in a way that will = entertainment; they know what they're signing up for, or the risk of them not fitting in well, when they cast these people). other times, it's not that they're not funny or capable, but that these overwhelming feelings hold them back: they don't pipe up, they don't speak when it's not their turn, they don't challenge greg or the other contestants, they don't fight, they don't tease. yes, when it's their turns to speak, they're often silly and fun, and when they do the tasks, they're often silly and fun, but they just don't hit their comedic potential — because they don't know how or they don't let themselves try. very understandable! it's very intimidating being on TASKMASTER with PROFESSIONAL FUNNY PEOPLE including GREG AND ALEX who are LEGENDS. but the best thing about comedian contestants other than their comedy is that they want spotlight and they want to be the centres of attention and they will take risks, so they (usually) make the most of their time, whether it's the recorded tasks or in the studio. THE POINT, IF I MAY BRING IT BACK, BEING TASKMASTER NZ SERIES 2 — matt heath not being a standup but being 1) an extrovert, 2) your standard entertainment industry attention seeker, and 3) very good friends with jeremy means we didn't get these obstacles from him. if anything, he was more relaxed and game than everyone else in the room at the start of episode 1 because he is already in the accepted graces of the literal taskmaster. he tried really hard, he fought hard, he teased hard, he laughed a lot. i get that being a funny guy radio dj may not seem that different to being a comedian, but it is, and he was SO good! —and every contestant who is a friend of a taskmaster is always good, that's another studied conclusion

➜ why was david naked all the time lmfaooo body positive KING his haircut is also adorable. speaking of a lack of clothes guy's shorts length was lovely for the eyes

➜ momentary disgression: i'm SO interested in the story david told on the podcast about russell howard going to one of his shows and then, like, immediately leaving as fast as possible when it was over because he cringed to death or was scandalised or something—imo it wasn't very clear just what david was implying russell said/felt and i'm really curious. if anyone has insight into this pls send it to me

➜ i don't think jeremy or paul get much better than season 1 and ultimately they're both just okay, and they will always be what holds tm nz back from reaching tm uk-levels of god-tier tm. i know a lot of people will like paul because he's attractive and he is friends with rose (and others) and from time to time he is amusing. sometimes that's all it takes, and if that's all it takes for you, that is well and nice. but...personally...i can't get over how QUIET paul is...alex isn't half as quiet as paul, very often asking questions throughout the tasks and making little passive-aggressive comments at someone's effort or even just looking at the camera...paul is so often just there doing and saying absolutely nothing, EVEN when he's involved in the task, and a healthy 60% of the time he's asked a question he does a very forced deadpan "okay" that just...like it's not funny — it doesn't hit that comedic beat — after the first hundred times. he may just not be a lightning quick improv kinda guy, and i think the inherent one-dimensionalness of his character hinders him, but idk he could offer SO much more during the tasks, especially when he already has a good irl dynamic with so many of them. there are times, during the tasks, he could just not be there. i also don't necessarily understand his character in that during the tasks he's exceptionally shy/reserved to the point of being mostly silent but then in the studio will pipe up and act "normal" in a way that seems like the real paul and not the character paul. idk. i just think...why isn't he more present and also more consistent. (and i'm gonna say something controversial here but i also watched guy mont spelling bee and paul was not very funny on that — again, quiet — and i think the truth is he might be a little boring at times. i said it. im sorry to everyone :() i think this is a common criticism of jeremy but i will agree that, while i do like him especially when he actually lets himself be silly and banter-y, it is BEYOND ME how he just flies through the prize tasks and the scoring. the prize task is practically show and tell with no comment at all from jeremy instead of a dialogue between the contestants and the taskmaster, and then half the time jeremy doesn't explain his scoring for anything. often i'm left thinking "how could someone show up with this bone-shakingly good prize and jeremy just nods and smiles and goes 'okay who's next'?" and maybe it's not jeremy, maybe it's the editors, but it drives me INSANE when that happens. greg would spend the whole hour going over the prize tasks if he could, just cuz he loves the banter and ragging on people — and the show is noticeably weaker when the banter is lost. hence my issue with, to bring it back around, banter-avoidant paul. (also sorry if it's annoying when i compare taksmaster uk and taskmaster nz, i don't mean to do it tooooo much but it's unavoidable at times, pls understand...) (also, i'm saying all of this without even commenting on the actual dynamic between the taskmaster and his assistant, but i'm not gonna touch that — despite the fact the greg/alex dynamic is the heart of tm and what every single contestant ever praises most about the show.) SO i do think the series having matt for jeremy and david (at least) for paul did help encourage them in being funnier than they may have been otherwise. (was guy williams being on series 1 why paul was..idk...like he was...on series 1? i also recently learned a lot of people don't like guy williams lmao very interesting...)

➜ it's hilarious to me that jeremy is OBSESSED with sports and greg LOATHES sports (except the darts lmfao)

➜ ngl i have always wondered why taskmaster uk didn't use their increased budget to do, like, 10% more landscaping — i get not wanting to make the place look TOO manicured but would it really kill them to just fix the cracks in the driveway? idk — but then i watch nz and do feel like it's a little too much of a set hahahah but i like the outdoors they really have a nice big yard to play in (the sewage ("legally it's not ☝️") pond is a choice tho...)

➜ i read about 100 reddit threads about te reo māori, how prevalent it is in school and culture, how many people speak it or even want to speak it, its roots, its appropriations — and the majority of new zealanders said they don't really care about it, it's not actual practical in the way chinese or german or whatever is, they don't think it should be mandatory in schools over other languages, etc. i found these reactions 1) mildly suspicious but idk how conservative the nz sub is but also 2) really surprising! BECAUSE there is WAY more te reo in the every day language of, at least, the new zealand convo i have witnessed on a few nz panel shows than i think they realise. the ones i've heard the most are a few different greeting lines to open episodes, pākehā, whanau, and kai, but there are TONS of te reo words and phrases sprinkled into everyday language and i felt like i was googling so much (even if the meanings were relatively obvious from the contexts). very interesting! off the back of that i had absolutely no idea people in new zealand said "en zed" to refer to nz in any capacity but it makes sense i just never thought about it before

➜ something i adored about the series — that we see less and less of each series from series 1 of tm uk — is editing in reactions from the panel in the studio while they're watching the task vt. it's HILARIOUS watching, say, tm uk s1 and seeing romesh smacking tim on the back, josh pointing fingers, roisin with her hands in her head, etc in real time as they're watching the tasks for the first time. editing this way also helps express the group friendship and harmony, which is so important to a successful season. tm uk NEVER does this anymore and it's one of my biggest criticisms of the show — but this series of tm nz did it so much and it was HILARIOUS watching the panel falling all over each other laughing at everything. they're so goofy

➜ the fake paul with the moustache was, in fact, a dish, whoever he is congrats on being hot

➜ very random moments i liked:

"you think she's doing great things for women in those boots? 🤨💅"

it was so underrated that guy's idea to transform a room was to turn it into a farm and he had people in animal costumes being sheep or whatever that shit was HILARIOUS

matt ziptying a brush to a helmet to look like an ancient roman cracked me up so hard "husband to a murdered child" ??? smh

when laura was trying to rope the cameramen into american pie-ing her wedding cake and paul went "don't ask them...because one of them WILL do it"

"a tongue kiss with an extra 10%? i'm not sure—" "10% extra, maybe thumb up bum" ????

matt forgetting his hometown and saying "i was born in oxford in england! i forgot… that was fucking ages ago!"

"because david eats something doesn't make it food :|"

"this reminds me of my mother's music group ...i hated every one of those bitches" like?? LMAO i NEED the story behind this comment

"one is south african, one is filipino...but they both like their balls...swiss"

"i'm fairly certain i'm not gonna crush this challenge, but i know at some point you and i are gonna box and/or wrestle, and i'm gonna crush that one"

matt being so serious that his dream animal is a horse

"i probably won’t even need the other food colouring but how good is it not to have paul in the room?"

why was jeremy so into those urinal cakes?? like okay jeremy hmm

every time jeremy and urzila flirted

when paul was convincing laura to go through with the sabotage and they agreed david probably wouldn't fuck over his team but guy definitely would lmfao

"tell me a little about yourself" "i'm paul" "...interesting. i love that about you"

it's hard to top david and guy being actually naked for the tie task but i actually think guy's farmer's tan stole the show

when guy was looking for paul in the rain and said "the irony is if paul was here we could talk about this weather, he loves that sort of shit" LMAO

urzila being the ghost of abe lincoln was actually genius and she deserved more flowers for that lateral thinking

♪im gonna gonna drown you / in your own blood♪ why is that so catchy?? "matt matt run him over like a cat" "david you shouldnt run over cats" but fr during the diss track task when matt said he was gonna eat their asses and also while they were dissing guy matt went "he's good looking though" 💀

in the secret shoelace task david said "i take solace in knowing that everyone else has go through this as well" was like a fucking mirror of the time josh widdicombe did a secret task and was like "i'm not the one who has to watch this five times" hahahaha also when they had so much time to kill paul was just reading the entire story of rumpelstiltskin please

when guy realised, during the milk/microwave task, that he should have listened to paul and like angrily laughed "i'm furious! i'm furious with everyone! this is a disaster!" you don't see that side of him often and it was so funny

➜ regardless of whether these yielded funny results (they did anyways of course), these were most of my favourite ideas for tasks:

transform this room when the lights go out

shoot a chocolate fish into the fishbowl and say the name of a different animal with each shot, most powerful animal wins

create a diss track about the members of the other team

the fucking abe lincoln one

the milk/microwave task (hilarious on both tm nz and tm uk)

also i personally want to play the celebrity name game from that one live task

➜ all in all the series had quite a few very simple tasks — build a tower of onions, squirt the sunscreen, fly, make the loudest noise — and that's something i really cherish and appreciate and feel is at the heart of what taskmaster is all about. i'd say tm nz, being in its baby era, is able to get away with having a lot more simple, straightforward tasks, which are far superior to some of the incredibly convoluted ones we see on tm uk. i see people say alllllll the timeeeeeee "it's not the tasks that matter it's how to contestants react to them + the editing" but i do not agree — plenty of tasks are duds because they are duds and not because everyone else failed to find the entertainment value in them. i would love to see tm uk work harder to bring the tasks back down in scale and convolution bc tm nz has been able to come up with quite a few that have never been done before so i know they can too

➜ something else this series does VERY well is little morsels on top of the established format: laura's sabotage, the brussell sprouts that kept floating throughout other tasks and then appear in another task!!!, paul and david's trip to christchurch, laura rounding up their girlfriends, the shoelace secret task, paul lying and fucking with the magnet, the crew "accidentally" (though i do believe it was an accident idk if we'll ever know) turning the lights off on david, even the abe lincoln task that took place outside of the taskmaster ranch — all of these things contributed to the format being more than just task/score, task/score, task/score. they felt like little cherries on top, extra content, at times extra suspense. felt like every episode had something a little extra funny in this way. very impressed by this stuff!

➜ task complaints:

alex has talked before about one of the central concerns of post-production being the ordering of the tasks and particularly choosing the very first task they show, which sets the stage for the panel. i actually feel like this series didn't do a good job in choosing their very first task, which surprises me bc that seems like an easy thing to get right with this series' group + task lineup. not a big deal but something to consider!

in the live task when they had to choose a weapon and half something (which i LOVE the idea of), it bothered me that they didn't measure by percentage and instead by actual kilo

is it just me or does tm nz feel like it sends a LOT of balloons into the air? have they ever specifically confirmed they retrieve all of the balloons they let go? ngl the amount of balloons they send off + the amount of food waste can sometimes be distracting

the piggy bank live task was totally fucked like the length of time it look paul to get the pictures of the piggies to jeremy was ridiculous and heavily disadvantaged everyone — and they didn't even show us all the piggie drawings????? HELLO I WANNA SEE THE PIGGIES??

jeremy giving guy's new zealand pillow 3 points was the worst scoring decision of the series

frankly it was GROSS when david sucked all of the room temperature tomato juice cans. but one thing i've noticed is — it may be a me problem? maybe an american problem bc we don't eat beans the way brits do? do nzers eat beans on toast? anyways — when it comes to people licking/eating cold/room temp canned goods. because i can name 10 different times i've seen contestants lick baked bean juice or spaghetti hoop sauce off their fingers and i just cannot imagine eating those things in any amount not heated up. cold bean juice? BLEGH

okay i'll wrap this up now because i wrote an incoherent outline of a thesis on this series but it was FUN as HECK and i'm so happy that funny people get to enjoy the legacy of a fan favourite series (on the tm podcast, guy seemed to take a lot of pride in this when ed mentioned it<3) and i like them all and i wish they would come back and do another 10 episodes. paul if ur reading this make it happen

[brewsterispunkk]

prologue

pairing: steve harrington x f!reader ; this is a reader insert, but reader is described as having curly/frizzy hair. this is a part of the story.

WC: 1.8k

summary: the beginning.

warnings: classism, minor reader description, people making fun of textured hair (taken from my own experience lolz)

a/n: i have no clue why I’m starting ANOTHER series but this has been in my head for forever. I had to put it out there. as always: pls give me feedback, and also listen to the playlist!

series masterlist

PROLOGUE:

1973

The day you became friends with Jonathan Byers, you had braids in your hair and a frown etched on your seven-year-old face. And you were royally pissed.

You weren’t new to Hawkins, though you’d wished you were. Somehow, you thought that would’ve made your whole situation easier. 

But no. Your family had lived in Hawkins for generations. Your grandfather had worked at the old power plant before your father had, and though it was a blue collar job, it was enough to afford a decent-sized home in the suburbs for your small family. In 1973, at least. But then the lay-offs had happened, and your white picket-fence was traded for a shiny new trailer at the trailer park. 

You were only seven; you didn’t, couldn’t, know all that moving from the suburbs to the trailer park entailed. Still, somehow you knew it wasn’t good. That there was something shameful about giving up your three-bedroom for a small, rickety building with a tin roof. 

You’d pouted as you’d driven up to your new home. 

Your two best friends had told you so after school the day before. Carol Perkins had sneered in your face and told you she couldn’t be friends with you anymore because you were moving to where the ‘poor people lived.’ Your other best friend, May Green, had only stared at the ground. You’d come home crying that day.

“Honey, c’mon.” Your mother tutted, turning back in the front seat of your family’s station wagon. “You’re gonna love it.”

“Look, they even have a swingset!” Your father added, as he put the car in park.

“I like the old swingset.”

Your mother sighed. 

“You’ll get to decorate your own room this time, aren’t you excited about that?”

“I liked my old room!” 

Your father sighed, setting his hands on the wheel.

“Well,” he said. “This is home now, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Uh huh, okay,” he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. Your mother followed. He opened your car door, leaning on the top of it. “Because this was sudden, I’m gonna let the attitude slide, just this once, got it, young lady?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, suppressing an eye-roll. 

“Got it?”

You nodded. 

“Oh, give her a break,” your mom called, a cardboard box already in hand. 

Your father moved to the trunk, grabbing a box of his own. 

Across the park, a few trailers down, a group of kids played on the rickety, aging playground next to the swingset your father had pointed out. It was a group of boys—three of them, by the looks of it. Two of them, one a boy with dark wild curls and another with short blond hair chased each other in a game of tag. You recognized them from school: Eddie Munson and Greg Davies. The third, a slight boy with mousy dark-blond hair, stared at you pensively. You didn’t recognize him.

Your eyes held his as you exited the car.

“Go on, honey.” your mom called over her shoulder. “Make some friends.”

You sighed, raising a hand in a wave at the small boy on the playground. He raised his back, a smile spreading on his face. 

That’s when you knew: you were a goner. 

- - -

1974

Jonathan sighed as the two of you walked back from the bus stop. 

“He didn’t mean it, you know.”

“He did!” You gripped the straps on your backpack in a vice grip, glaring at your best friend. “They all did!”

“But–”

“And it’s not like Eddie has any room to talk! His hair is even frizzier than mine! Mine only looks more frizzy because it’s longer.”

You threw your bag on the ground and slumped onto one of the swings. Jonathan set his own bag down gently beside yours before quietly sitting on the swing next to you.

At eight-years-old, the two of you were almost done with third grade, and thank god for it; kids were mean. Today was a prime example. 

It was the first warm spring day of the season; The grass was green and dewy, the trees sprouted buds in the Indiana sun, and the air was humid from the weeks of April rains in the past weeks. 

Your mother had done your hair that morning like always, taking care that all the right products were applied to make it…manageable. But, by recess, after a game of soccer, whatever she had done had proven useless. 

You’d been out of breath from scoring a goal when you’d heard it. 

“Woah, look at that frizz!” 

Your heart plummeted and you turned behind you to see Tommy Hagan standing, hands on his hips. Behind him were his friends—all of them mean—snickering. You stood about a head taller than them, having hit your growth spurt before all the boys in your grade, even Jonathan. 

You instinctively reached up to touch your hair, finding that it had, in fact, grown since you’d been outside.

“Woof!” Someone called from somewhere else on the field. 

You felt your chest plummet, eyes searching for Jonathan instinctively. You panicked even more when you couldn’t find him. This year, all of the third and fourth graders had recess together, which made it nearly impossible to find him in the sea of people.

“Hey, frizzy!” One of Tommy’s friends with big hair called. 

Tommy threw his head back and laughed. 

“Frizzy!” he repeated. “Yeah, move it, frizzy! Our team has the ball!”

Everyone had repeated it for the rest of the day. Your final straw, though, had come when Eddie called you frizzy on the bus ride home. You saw red. 

“It was mean,” Jonathan offered, small hand grabbing yours. 

You sniffed, eyes filling with tears.

They were right, your hair was frizzy. It wasn’t straight or sleek and smooth like the other girls in your class. It was so big and coarse and hard to brush. You hated it.

 You blinked the tears away and straightened your shoulders, peeking at Jonathan out of the corner of your eye. 

“You’re right, you know,” he said. “Eddie’s hair is frizzier than yours.”

You snorted, throwing your head back laughing. Jonathan’s light laugh joined yours as they echoed through the trailer park. 

- - - 

1979

The years moved on and on, and eventually, so did the Byers. 

Not for good—in fact, they’d only moved a short bike ride away from the trailer park. Still, to a fourteen-year-old you, it felt like an ocean away. 

Once Lonnie and Joyce split, Lonnie got the trailer and Joyce was able to buy an actual house in the neighborhood next door. Lonnie moved to Indianapolis barely a month after the divorce papers were signed, and a new family had moved in after that. 

You still saw Jonathan almost every day—he was your best friend, after all—but you still missed him on the bus rides to school. 

You’d started at Hawkins High in August, and it had been smooth sailing since then. Well, all except for one small detail: the overwhelming crush on your best friend. 

Over the summer, Jonathan had had a growth spurt: he’d grown six inches, and gotten broader too. His once boyish voice had deepened, and he’d let his hair grow. The small, insignificant, feelings you’d had for him all these years were no longer as manageable. In fact, they were no longer manageable at all. 

It was more than just his looks, though. 

Jonathan was gentle. You had never met anyone as kind as him. He was funny and smart and more than that, he had always been there for you. Through thick and thin.

You were in love with him, you were sure of it.

You walked through the halls in search of him, silently praying the hairspray you’d used on your hair earlier this morning remained intact. 

As the years had passed, you’d gotten…minutely better at taming your hair. After the incident in third grade, you’d never worn it completely curly again. You didn’t think you could handle the humiliation. You’d used relaxers, straighteners, and curlers, you’d braided it, tied it back, pulled it half up—anything to keep it tame. 

The nickname had stuck all through middle school. Tommy Hagan hadn’t let you live it down all through grades six, seven, and eight. By now, though, as a freshman, you’d managed to mostly make the school forget your old moniker. 

Frizzy. 

You felt nerves flutter in your stomach as you saw him. 

Today was the day you were finally going to do it: you were going to ask him to be your date to the Snow Ball. 

He had his head in his locker, bent over his camera, fiddling with the lens. In recent years, while you’d gotten more involved with student council, Jonathan had taken up photography. 

You tapped his shoulder when you approached, causing him to jump. 

“Agh!” He startled, nearly dropping his camera. “Jesus, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” you laughed. “Don’t drop that thing.”

“You asshole!” He laughed with you, shoving your shoulder lightly. He shut his locker. 

“Oh, I wanted to ask you–”

“Oh my god, guess what–”

The two of you stopped, laughing to yourselves. 

“What is it?” he raised his brows at you. “What did you want to ask?”

“You first,” you said.

“Okay,” he said. “But be prepared. I nearly shit my pants.”

You snorted, beginning your short walk to homeroom with him by your side. 

“You are not going to believe this,” he said, voice teeming with excitement. 

“Just tell me already!”

“Christine Mendoza asked me to the Snow Ball!” He turned to face you. “Me!”

“That’s…” you stopped walking, clearing your throat. “That’s…great. Isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I didn’t think anyone was going to ask me.”

“Mmhm,” you nodded, shaking your head. You began walking again, widening your strides to catch up with him.

“Anyway, what did you wanna ask me?” He asked, following you into homeroom and taking his usual seat next to you. 

“Huh?” you asked. 

“The question? You said you wanted to ask me something.”

“Oh,” you blanched. “I don’t remember.”

“Hm, okay.”

That’s the thing they don’t tell you about unrequited love: there is nothing romantic about it. It’s not tears on love letters or wistful sighs or a thorny rose. It’s suffering in silence and pushing down all you want to say until you feel it’ll burst from your chest. 

You learned for the first time to push it down that day–to hold it back. All the emotions you felt rising up your chest, clawing at your throat to get out, you pushed back. You knew if you said anything now, it would ruin everything. 

You smiled sadly to yourself. 

You were always a suffer in silence type anyway.

[dr-rabbit-3]

Sooo you guys wanted to see it so here it is it's old and I'm not the best writer rn so.. in joy?

Worning: this story has cannibalism in it(obviously)

And violents, stabbing, blood (trauma?) pls don't read it if you're sensitive to stuff like that (ya mental health comes first)

Anyway story in the undercut 👇

Gregory stabbed Tony meltable times

Tony tried to fight back

Gregory tried to ignore the pained screams coming from Tony

As he stabbed him he wanted to give Tony at least a quick death he didn't want Tony to suffer..

Tony was the first friend he made at school,

Tony was his friend!......

What kinda child does this to a friend?

a blood thirsty monster

That's what kind.

Tony was barley alive any more

he wasn't putting up a fight anymore...

it only took one last stab

And it was over

Gregory looked down at tony

As tears filled his eyes

he hated having to do this

But it had to be done

Tony was trying to find out things...

Gregory had no clue how he was gonna dispose of the body but

soon he came to a horrible collision

he didn't like it one bit

But he had no other way

There's only one way to properly dispose of the body without getting caught

no body

No problem...

Gregory stared blankly at Tony's body

Gregory was going to eat it.

But how he thought would he start with the head or the hands?

he didn't know...

he looked around and then back at tony......

After a couple of hours Tony was nothing but a skeleton

And bloody clothes

he folded and put the clothing in his backpack

He didn't know what he was gonna do with the skeleton he had a couple of ideas

He hid the skeleton somewhere nobody will find it for now

He crawled in the vent and into the outside world he had a therapy session in 10 minutes he can't tell his therapist about this he can't tell anyone about this!

he walked home blood on his hands

Vanessa wasn't home yet he dropped his backpack on the floor

and made his way to the bathroom

He washed the blood of his hands

He looked in the mirror and saw

A monster looking back at him

6 months later with Cassie and vannasa.....

"Did you see Gregory today his been acting strange lately and haven't been eating much

I'm kinda worried.."

Vanessa said as she placed a plate of pancakes in front of Cassie

"I'm gonna go talk to him and see what's up"

Cassie said as she made her way

Down the hall to Gregorys bedroom

she knocked at the door gently

"Hay can I come in?"

Cassie said softly

She could hear light crying

crying she never heard from Gregory before

"y-yes...."

Gregory said with a Shakey voice

Cassie slowly opened the door

She saw Gregory in the corner of his room

In a fetal position kinda rocking back and forth

she never seen Gregory like this

It hurt her

"G...gregory are you okay?...."

Gregory looked up at Cassie

With the saddest eyes

And then softly smiled

And nodded

"Y.... you don't have to worry about me it's nothing it's just been a hard day....."

Gregory said wiping the tears from his face

"Do you want to talk about it"

Gregory knew he couldn't talk about that

He ate his friend he's a....a monster he's a cannibal!

Author's note: this story is short and was supposed to be a part of a larger fanfic before the butterfly au

Where Tony gets eaten by Greg and basically haunts him and tries to get revenge and Tony's spirit is attached to Gregory because Gregory ate em

Idk I might write the story after the butterfly au is finished 🤷‍♀️

[helianskies]

Office parties suck, please? I suffered through one last night, need someone else to do it as well. If you can have Spain or England or both in the story I'll be happy.

hi anon! i hope you have recovered from your endeavour - please have a cookie for bravery 🍪 - and pls enjoy this bc well,, suffering is temporary. Arthur is about to learn that :) (also shame on me for making this engspa but anon honey you did ask for one or both idiots and this is an engspa addiction zone i can't be stopped >:'v)

Mull

Office parties suck. There is no debate to be had on the matter, and Arthur knows his mind is not going to be changed by attending this year’s party. 

Last year, he’d been roped into it—bribed with free drinks and the potential to schmooze for a promotion he ended up losing to Greg of all people—and by the time he got home, the holiday spirit had been drained out of him like mulled wine from the keg. 

So this year, he is adamant. He is not going to the damn office party, no matter what!

…until, that is, a certain someone comes over to his desk in the morning as he’s buried in his emails, and catches him with his guard down.

“Are you coming along this evening?” someone asks.

Arthur hums to acknowledge there’s been an interaction, but his eyes are trying to make sense of the words he’s reading. Seriously, does he need to be in this email chain? He could do without the nonsense and plain stupidity, especially on a Friday!

“It’s my first since working here,” the other goes on, a muffle in his mind. “I hope it’s good…”

“It’ll be fine,” Arthur mumbles. His eyes are still on his screen. His brain is still deciphering paragraph-long sentences. 

“I was wondering, though… If you aren’t going with anyone else, would you… consider going with me? Just so I’m not the, uh, the weirdo going in alone, haha…”

His finger clicks the mouse, deleting the email. 

“Yeah, sure.”

“R— Really?”

Another three emails have since appeared in his inbox. Arthur wants to cry. 

“Mmh…”

“Wow… Thanks, Arthur!”

And at long last, he looks away from his computer, unsure what it is he’s being thanked for, only to find Antonio smiling at him. Antonio, one of few ‘friends’ in the office he has. Antonio, who’s been there for only about six months yet is universally adored. Antonio, who, at least in private, is probably adored by no one as much as he is adored by Arthur, who, as he continues to look at the other, realises what he has just done. 

He can’t even be mad about it. 

He can’t say ‘no’ now, because it would likely upset Antonio.

He can’t do anything, in fact, other than smile back at him and ask, “Shall I meet you there?” 

“I can pick you up,” Antonio offers, as his heart screams. “You aren’t far from me.”

And that is what happens, then, later that evening after the work day is over, the office is closed, and Arthur has had a chance to freshen himself up. 

He still can’t believe he’s doing this. He can’t believe, firstly, that he is going to the damn Christmas party again, but he also can’t believe that he’s that useless a human being he hasn’t even had the decency to tell Antonio since his unwitting agreement that, actually, he doesn’t want to go! He could have made an excuse! Something like, the cat’s ill, got to run to the vet, or maybe, suit shrunk in the wash and I don’t think going naked is wise so I’m out!

But no! He’s bottled it! And now he’s there, standing in a not-that-warm venue, dying over making small talk about his uneventful holidays-to-come, and longing for his bed. 

Somewhat luckily for him, after a few moments of further lamenting, his saviour appears with another glass of hot wine (it’s all the company thought to provide other than prosecco, and he just isn’t a bubbles man!). 

“Here,” Antonio says, passing over a glass. He stands next to Arthur as the blond takes a sip and savours the warmth it provides.

“Thanks,” Arthur replies.

“No worries,” Antonio nods. “I think it’s the least I can do for you, after dragging you out here. I’m starting to regret my choices…”

The Brit just can’t help but snort, humoured. “Office parties suck,” he remarks, to which Antonio hums in agreement.

“Remind me not to do this next year,” he says. “All this effort for cheap wine and stinky cheese!”

“Not your cup of tea?”

“Not my…?”

“Not your thing,” Arthur clarifies. “Not your idea of a good party.”

“Oh! No,” the brunet responds, shaking his head before taking a sip of his wine. Then he says, “My sort of party involves better music, more dancing, and more drinking. I would hazard to say that mulled wine is not really ‘my cup of tea’ either.”

“No? Is it not a bit like sangria?”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Sorry…”

“Still,” Antonio says, “I’ll make it up to you.”

Arthur doesn’t want him to feel obliged or guilty; cheap wine and stinky cheese aside, he’s had a nice evening thanks to some shared laughter, some moaning, and some, well, cheap wine and stinky cheese. 

But in all seriousness, Antonio has been good company. Even if he would have liked to have stayed home, he… can’t deny he’s enjoyed the opportunity to get to spend time with Antonio away from the office. It’s been nice to just talk with him, without the pressure of it having to be work-related somehow, managers looming over them. It’s been nice to feel at ease, and more like themselves—more real—even if only slightly.

So Arthur tells him, “Don’t worry about it. The evening hasn’t been too unbearable.”

“Oh?” Antonio croons. “You think?”

“Yeah, well, you’re not unbearable.”

“Flattery! How kind,” the other jokes. “I’m still going to make it up to you. I feel responsible for your suffering.”

“What suffering?” Arthur remarks as he sips his wine.

“It’s like you said, no? Office parties suck?”

“Oh, yeah. For sure.” He lowers his glass. “They suck less with good company, though.”

Antonio stares at him for a moment. He can feel his gaze—can feel the warmth and nerves grow the longer it goes on. Arthur holds his cards close to his chest and says no more, his own eyes turning to the room, their colleagues, the small talk to come. 

But then, just out of the corner of his eye, he glimpses a smile. A lovely, soft, wine-humoured smile. 

That’s all Arthur needs to convince himself that… maybe not all office parties suck…

[ ficlet collection on ao3! ] [ prompt list here! ]

[gregoftom]

I love Greg, but if I was Tom I would have teared the bitch to pieces with my teeth if I saw him having a ball of a time with the fascists, after having agreed to go to prison for him. He did the same thing with boar on the floor and the proposal of a business open relationship afterwards. Which in retrospect is very fucking crazy. Dude had to stand in an empty pool and got pissed on, but still didn't talk because of a little 'pls 🥺' only for Greg to break-up and blackmail him. Love them, fr.

JASJAKSJAKJSAS yeah i'll be honest that hurt me too.

it's kind of crazy the way that greg reacted then compared to now and you make a good point - twice tom makes these big proposals of love and twice it's kind of thrown back in his face. this is something he's used to so it makes sense that he goes off and pelts bottles at greg. you can kind of understand tom, LOL.

but he keeps pursuing him! like a lovesick little bitch! it's so..... A. there are probably multiple reasons why greg reacts the way he does to tom at the start; 1. he thinks that's the way this world works having observed the family acting that way [tom even praises him for the blackmail, in the end greg is mostly satisfied with being treated better and respected and being given a sense of belonging. tom knows just how to seduce him right back in] 2. he's not sure, like i was when i first watched boar on the floor, just how long these kinds of gestures could and would last so he doesn't take it quite so seriously hence trying to leave after [also up to that point tom had been uh. pretty mean to him!! and he gravitates towards niceness, it's only then i guess that he managed to pluck up the courage to ask to leave bc tom had this sudden burst of kindness and greg felt like he could leave without getting Killed lol.] 3. he's just being selfish - he takes these gestures and runs with them, esp the getting out of jail free card. he's like, oh thanks! then thoughtlessly celebrates his freedom with a bunch of. dudes. anyway.

BUT THEN LATE S3-4?????!?! WTF HAPPENED HASKJASAS this bitch was like minnesotan dick got me acting unwise. "prove it" shut the hell up slut!!! tom can't even react properly cuz he's like HUH?????? i thought you didn't even like me back!!!!! and it's just so fucking fun bc it pairs up very nicely with how much tom acts like a schoolboy around greg. these mfs be acting like high school idiots and it's so entertaining. it's like i said somewhere else on a post; one of them will take steps forward while the other steps back. the nero sporus scene was greg's "oh!" moment, i think. that was the moment he was like, oh wait, this is for real? bc ever since then he's been glued to tom's side and in the latest s4 episodes been singing his song like hey hi i'm greg of tom, i'm tom's mistress, how is everybody, hi mr president did you know i love that country boy. also i am here. like he mentioned himself second!! not exactly a huge thing like botf, but it's still a gesture! just a shame tom wasn't there to see it; maybe it'll be addressed in some way in the finale or he'll bear witness to greg doing the same thing for him in kind and we'll either get a break up as a response [touche greg] or... not?? which!!!!! A but i'm kind of expecting something within the former range. but i don't think it'll be an easy decision for tom and tbh, i'll take that. it at least means greg is important to him.

something happened between s3 and 4; they became friends, the trust grew, they must have spent a lot of time together. the disgusting brothers [which atp could just be them fucking each other and calling it disgusting bc they're fucking dumb and internally homophobic] bullshit, which sounds like something some idiot frat bros would come up with. "DIGUSTIBUS" GREG U WANNA FUCK THAT SENIOR CITIZEN SO BAD IT MAKES U LOOK STUPID. like. we had tom acting like that, now it's greg's turn. the scales tipped the other way and now tom is like. whadda hell... he likes it for sure we can see it here and there. but he's taking the step back now. i just think that's interesting!

ANYWAY SORRY I MADE THIS INTO A HUGE POST LOL but the point is. i also love them fr and tom should've [redacted] whenever greg was a little unappreciative asshole.

[fangirlstorycreator]

Angry drunk Terry pls! Lord he would just be a beast in bed but worth every second. Do you think you could write this with ck Terry being angry about maybe someone who tried to touch his girlfriend. Him getting all worked up and drinking late at night about it until she suddenly wakes up because he's not in bed. This just leads to her finding him in the home dojo, drunk and pissed off about the situation. This leading to some steamy scenario because he wants to lay his claim! If it's too long you don't have to do it. I love your writing btw! Xoxo💚💚💚

Thank you for waiting 😁 and thank you for the compliment about my writing, it means a lot 🙏💚

Contains: sexual intercourse, dirty talk

Terry had been off for the last few days, he was distant ever since you both went to your works party in the office. Your co worker Greg had asked to talk to you privately in his office about organising a works trip for all the other work colleagues, and it was in his office, that was made of glass windows. Obviously you would never look at another man because of how much you love and adore Terry, but that didnt seem to stop the jealousy building in Terry's chest as he saw you and Greg talking privately. He loved you with every fiber in his body, you were his soul mate, and seeing another man talk to you away from him just made his blood boil.

He knows what a wonderful woman you are, and deep down there was a part of him that thought he wasnt good enough for you. You were much younger, beautiful, and could have any man you wanted, which is why he sometimes wondered why you chose him, and much older man. When you finished talking to Greg you told Terry what you spoke about, but that still didnt stop how he felt inside. One night, you started to stir in your sleep, you rolled over to rest your hand on Terry's chest, but your hand met the mattress instead. "Terry?" You asked with a tired whisper, you reach over to your side lamp and see that your the only one in the bed. Where was he? "Terry?"

You ask a little louder this time as you get out of bed and tie Terry's black silk dressing gown around yourself. You walk into your ensuite bathroom, through the upstairs rooms, downstairs, kitchen, living room and the garden, he wasn't hear. Where the hell is he? Your about to reach for your phone on the kitchen table, where you see that the key rack is missing 2 sets of keys, Terry's car and the dojo keys. Why would he go to the dojo? Its 1 in the morning? Something must be wrong, he wouldn't leave you alone like this without a good reason. So you run upstairs and quickly change into one of Terry's shirts and a pair of black leggings, your hair was put up into a messy bun, then you run back down stairs and grab your keys and phone before leaving the house and get into your car.

It was only a short drive to the dojo, but that didnt mean your mind wasnt racing with so many questions. Why was he out this late? Why didnt he tell you? What could be the reason hes out this late? Was it something you did? Did Terry not want to be around you anymore? You pulled up into the dojo car park, and that's where a weight off your chest you didnt know you were feeling was lifted, after seeing Terry's car parked hear too. At least you knew where he was, that was something you had worried about. You walk up to the dojo door and open it slowly, there were only a couple of lights on in the dojo, but when you walk into the main room, you can hear something coming from the back. You walk towards the backroom, and now you can hear what sounds like Terry's voice, he seems to be muttering to himself. You can hear the words "How dare he?" and "What's he planning?"

As you finaly reach the door, you push it open a little and you can see Terry pacing back and forth, but he isn't the same. He is holding a bottle of whiskey, and it's almost empty, is he drunk? Terry doesn't get drunk? His hair is still in a ponytail, but it's very messy, covering his eyes with little wispy locks. "Terry?" His eyes dart to the doorway where you stand. "Sweetheart?! What- what are you doing hear?" "I could ask you the same thing" Terry shakes his head and throws the bottle onto the pile of mats next to him. "Terry what are you doing hear? What's going on?" "Its nothing sweetheart, just go home" this frustrates you now, you just frown and fold your arms. "Terry I'm not going anywhere, you haven't been the same the last few days and then I wake up to find you that you left me alone in our bed?! And your hear getting drunk?! What is going on? Please tell me!...is it something I did?"

"What? No Y/N no, you didnt do anything-" "Then why are you avoiding me? The last few days, you've been so distant. I thought....I thought you didnt find me attractive anymore" "Oh sweetheart no, please don't think that-" "How can I not? You haven't been talking to me, spending time with me, I mean when was the last time we had sex? When was the last time you really kissed me? You say I shouldn't think like that, but when the man I love doesn't treat me the same way anymore, it's all that I can think about" Terry has a tear run down his cheek, he looks utterly hear broken, he steps towards you and falls to his knees. "Y/N, I am so, so sorry. I cant belive I've been making you feel that way, the last thing i want is to make you feel less than the goddess you are. I love you, i worship you, and i always will"

"I thought I did something to make you feel bad, i though i upset you" "No sweetheart, you didnt do anything....its not you...its your... your colleague, Greg" "Greg? I dont understand? What did he do?" He stands back up and starts pacing again, and an angry look is starting to form on his face. "He didn't really do anything...he just...I dont like the way he, IS around you" "The way be IS? Terry what are you talking-" "I dont like him! Alright?! I dont like the way he talks to you, or, you know, takes you into his office for private conversations-" "Oh my god! Are you kidding me?! Is this what this is about? You think Greg likes me?" "How can I not think that? Y/N, your the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on, your perfect. How can I not feel angry or jealous when I see another man taking you away from me?"

"Dont you trust me?" "Sweetheart I trust you with my life, I love you and I know that you would never cheat. I just dont trust the way he was around you!" "Terry! Greg is GAY!" A silence fills the room, you have the anger now, and Terry looks completely confused. "Wh-what?" "Greg is gay Terry! Why do you think he was hanging around Paul at the party so much? Paul is his boyfriend! He's gay! He isnt attracted to me and hasn't tried to flirt with me in anyway!" Terry looks embarrassed, and just hides his face in his hand. But your start to feel upset, sad, and very frustrated. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry i- sweetheart? Are you crying?" "Of course I am Terry, I hate arguing with you and this whole situation is just- I cant-" you turn around and try to leave, but Terry runs after you and stops you before you reach the door, and rests on hand on your arm while the other cups your cheek and wipes your tears away.

"Y/N please dont go, I'm so sorry for arguing with you. I hate that I made you feel this way, but please belive me when I say I do trust you, I do love you and I promise that I will do whatever it takes to show you that. Please sweetheart, what can I do to show you?" All of the feelings you had built up inside you were complicated, there were so many that you didnt know how to feel. The only thing you knew was that you really missed Terry, you hadn't been physical with him for over a week, not even a kiss. You just felt his hand on your cheek and that was enough to make you crave more of his touch. Without saying a word, your lips crash into his in a desperate hunger, you just needed to feel him. He returned the kiss just as much, he had clearly missed you too. One of his arms wraps around your waist, pulling you into his chest, and the other hand cradles the back of your neck as he leans down and deepens the kiss.

He completely supports you in his strong muscular arms as your hands grab at his muscular arms, the intense feelings you are experiencing make you week at the knees. He spins you around and presses you against the wall, still moving his tounge against yours and intensifying the moment. The kiss breaks for just a moment so you can take a breath, and you cant help but look up at Terry with the same sexual frustration in his eyes. "I love you so much sweetheart, I've really missed you-" "Shut up Terry, just take me already!" "Oooh is my goddess in need of a good...hard...fucking?" He asks as his fingers run over your collarbone. "Yes Terry, please just fuck me!" Terry smiles wickedly before he quickly takes both your wrists and pins them above your head, with only one of his hands. The other takes your thigh and lifts it up to wrap around his waist. His lips meet yours again, but this time is more intense, he even bites your lip at one point.

Feeling so wet as he grinds his groin inbetween your legs, your heart races as you need to feel him inside you. His hand lets go of your wrist and he wraps your legs around his waist, and carrys you over to the large pile of mats. Placing you on the mats, the kiss doesn't break as you pull at his collar, ripping it open and showing his braud muscular chest. He absolutely loves this, and he let's out a low growl from his throat. He lifts you up and turns you around, so your standing up and facing away from him, but he presses his body against your back, and you can feel how hard he is in his trousers. One of his hands reaches into the front of your leggings and slowly starts to tease you, and the other moves over your collar bone and moves up to your neck as his large hand and fingers delicately wrap around your throat. "Oh, my sweet goddess, your already so wet for me..." He circles your tender clit, making you shudder at his touch, and his tounge runs over the soft skin of your neck.

So he takes his hand out, and pulls down your leggings, then he presses you down so your bent over onto the mats. He parts your legs slightly before he slides into you with one deep thrust. It makes you gasp at the feel of him, he's so hard and so thick, he felt so good inside you and he hadn't even started thrusting yet. He leans down and whispers in your ear, ever so slightly getting deeper inside you. "I'm going to give you, exactly what you need..." Shootimg back up so he is standing behind you, he starts pounding into you, hard and fast, hitting all the right places, slamming against your G spot over and over again. You cant help but moan, and whimper as he fucks you again and again. "I think my goddess can take a little more..." One of his hands reaches down as starts playing with your clit again, making you whimper even more. It isnt until his other hand reaches down and his fingers run through your hair and makes a fist in your hair, pulling it so he is in complete control of you.

"Oh my god! I cant- I cant take any more! I'm going to cum!" "Oh sweetheart, your going to take all that I give you, because your a good girl" he can feel your body as it's about to release, so he let's go of you, pulls your hips up so you against his back again. And one hand goes back to your clit, going quicker than before, and his other hands wraps around your throat again, giving slight pressure, not stopping you from breathing, but being completely in control. He is still mercilessly fucking you, and before you know it, your entire body is feeling the wave of your orgasm, making your body shake and your screaming out so loud that your worried someone might hear. But Terry doesn't care, hearing you scream is music to his ears, and his orgasm hits him at the same time as you, making him moan out in extacy. The whole experience intensified when you hear him moan, hearing the sounds he makes majorly turns you on too. He is still holding you as you both start to come down, and his lips find your ear as he nibbles at your earlobe. "Oh sweetheart, that was so fucking good. I've missed you so much" Your both breathless as you talk. "I've missed you too Terry, and that was, amazing" "I promise I wont act like that around you again sweetheart, I trust you, and love you with all my heart" "I love you too" "So? Are you ready to go home?" "Maybe......after round two?" He chuckles "Oh, you need a little more, your wish is my command....."

[fxreflyes]

ooooh I'm always down for even more music!! ☕

ahh thank u for asking!! 🫶🏻 so i ended up making a 70 song playlist for u… which was clearly outside the scope of this ask ahaha, but i was inspired by the challenge of trying to find songs u hadn’t heard of lol (& I think we have overlapping? music taste) so this is the product of killing a lot of darlings and also keeping far too many… it’s far too many but it’s fewer than 70! i tried to only include songs i thought u didn’t already know so hopefully u haven’t heard of most of these (I feel like u kno a lot of music so that was tricky, e.g., i kept wanting to add the magnetic fields songs but i saw u kno them LOL) :)

Main playlist (songs I think u might like <3:

1. The breakup song - the Greg Kihn band

2. Post blue - placebo

3. When I think about you - say hi

4. Motorcycle emptiness - manic street preachers (it was between this & methadone pretty by them.. if u like this then I’d rec checking that out too)

5. Slow show - the national

6. I was a teenage anarchist - against me!

7. Spades - Hana Bryanne

8. Think about you - guns n’ roses (alternatively get in the ring)

9. I’ll fall with your knife - Peter murphy

10. Brilliant disguise - Bruce Springsteen

11. I’ve thought about Chicago - nation of language

12. I’m only going to hurt you - the ninth wave

13. Mine all mine - Kolton Moore & the clever few

14. The shape of your heart - blue October

15. Pocket knife - ruby haunt

16. Get on the road - tired pony

Appendix: (aka additional songs I didn’t have space for but still wanted 2 share)

The vibes from your fics (can u tell I just read hatefuck):

* Darling I want to destroy you - AFI

* There’s sometbing very wrong with us so let’s go out tonight - electric six

* I want you to rock me - vixen (if u like this listen to edge of a broken heart & cryin)

* I don’t want to know - Fleetwood Mac

* Love is a mutt from hell - wheatus

* Blue denim - Stevie nicks

* i was going 2 include lover I don’t have to love but I saw u already have it

Slower / sad songs?

* Pair of lungs - Harrison Whitford (if u like this then recommend secret garden by him)

* Where do you think you’re going (alternative version) - dire straits

* Learn how to fight - besides daniel

* My baby - Nicole dollanganger

* Exit wounds - placebo

* Waste - brand new

Fun? More energetic? (post heart crushed pick me up)

* When you come back home - the front lawn (tomorrow night by them is good too)

* Cry so easy - erasure (If u like erasure pls lmk I have a million recs)

* Common people - pulp

* NASCAR - Stella smyth

* About to work the dance floor - Georgia

* Self control - Laura branigan

* Hey moon - molly Nilsson

* Androgynous - nation of language (cover of the replacements one)

* Moonbeam levels - prince (or let’s go crazy by him)

* Can I play with madness - Iron Maiden

* Mr blue - yazoo

Random songs I like & u might like??

* Warbrain - alkaline trio

* Methadone - rise against

* Kiss the bottle - jawbreaker

* Boxer - the gaslight anthem

* Self destruct - the methadones

* innocent - our lady peace

* Let’s. Get. Dangerous - iron chic

[gwilymz]

just saw the pic of ken with his sleeves rolled up…. pls something dilfy where he’s covering the readers mouth … maybe cause the Roy’s are near by at some family gathering …. AGHHH feral

he’s so fucking hot like i love greg and stewy and tom and such but kendall.. i would actually crawl on all fours for him

no. you’re his younger girlfriend but nobody knows you’re his girlfriend. he says you’re his intern because he just doesn’t want the drama of it all. but he takes you to everything, and roman is always flirty with you, always saying kendall is an asshole and that you should be his intern—and it just pisses kendall off. not to mention stewy is spewing some bullshit to him over the phone at this important gala that was supposed to be a good thing. kendall gets really jealous when he sees all these men gawking at you and it makes him want you so bad.

he walks up behind you and whispers in your ear. it looks innocent enough.

“come here, pretty girl.”

you blush; kendall’s hand ghosts over the small of your back and he’s telling you he needs to show you something but he’s leading you to the bathroom.

he rolls his sleeves up and holds the back of your head, one of his hands sliding into your panties and you’re so wet for him.

“filthy girl.” he groans into your mouth and you bite his lip. he looks so hot; his head is freshly buzzed and his suit fits so fucking well.

you’re reaching forward to unbuckle his belt and he chuckles into your mouth as he pulls his cock out.

“gotta be quiet for me.”

you nod quickly. “i will be.”

kendall knows that’s bullshit; every other night he’s so glad his penthouse is so big so it drowns out your screaming.

“okay,” he shakes his head as he slams into you, one of his hands gripping your ass, the other still on the back of your head to make sure your head doesn’t slam on the mirror.

you immediately scream, arching your back as he fucks into you relentlessly.

“shhh, baby i know.” his hand clamps over your mouth. “be quiet sweet girl.”

his words are so sweet, but he’s slamming into you. and when you tear his hand away, he slaps your cheek and grabs your jaw, telling you to fucking take it and he makes you cum so hard.

and when you go back out to the gala it’s so painfully obvious what happened because your nail marks are all over the back of his neck <3