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bonny-kookoo · 4 months

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Jungkook

𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓣𝓸𝓸𝓽𝓱 [Cookies]

Jimin isn't sure anymore what to think about you and Jungkook. But maybe tonight he realizes something.

Tags/Warnings: Human!Yoongi, Human!Jimin, Rottweiler hybrid!Jungkook, Cat hybrid!Reader, Enemies to friends to lovers, mentions of past trauma, some Yoonmin here and there oops, Main story focus are MC and Kook though, some Angst in this, major fluff too, christmas!!!

Wordcount: 3.1k words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jimin has no idea how to talk to you anymore.

It’s not like you became an entirely different person overnight, or as if Jungkook actively keeps him away from you- it’s just.. awkward. He’s seen you search online for jobs, something you’ve never done before, or at least you’ve never actually seemed to be interested in that. And neither has he ever wanted you to do get one- he’s making enough money for the both of you, you don’t have to provide for yourself.

But he believes that Jungkook might have something to do with it.

“jiminie?” You say, skipping towards him to put your phone down, a page opened. “can you drive me to my job interview tomorrow?” You ask, and Jimin frowns, looking at the page on your phone.

It's an email. You’ve been apparently asking for a job at a local grocery store to just help stock the shelves and such, but Jimin worries. “are you sure?” He asks, and you deflate quite a bit. “eight hours a day is a bit much to start with..” he says, and you huff, slumping over onto the kitchen counter.

“But I wanna have my own money too…” you mumble, complaining when the door opens, Yoongi entering.

“But baby you don’t have to? Just tell me how much you need and I’ll give it to you.” Jimin says, earning some attention from Yoongi who gets himself a bottle of cold coffee from the fridge.

“But then- noo, that’s not right!” You huff, tail smacking against your chair you’re sitting on. “no, I need my own for that!” You complain. “eight hours isn’t a lot! I can do that!”

“Can I look at it?” yoongi asks, and Jimin slides the phone over with a sigh. “eight hours five days a week. Have you ever worked before?” He wonders, and you sheepishly shake your head. “then eight hours might be a bit much as a start. Don’t they offer part time positions?” He asks, and you shrug.

“I’ll get less money then though..” you say disappointed, leaning back a big as your legs swing around.

“Work your way up then.” Yoongi encourages. “it’s a good job, decent pay even as part time.” He mumbles, looking through the job description. “I’d like to look over the contract before you sign it though. Just to make sure it’s all good.” He says, turning around to throw the bottle in the trash.

Jimin notices instantly how you look at Yoongi.

“There’s my princess!” Jungkook however breaks through the moment, picking you up from the chair you’re sitting on to hug you, tail wagging with excitement. He’s apparently just come home from work to pick you up- like he always does.

These days, the moment Jungkook is available, you’re gone out of sight.

Yoongi has already slowly brought up the topic of potentially changing the living situations permanently in the future- switching around so to speak, with Jungkook and you living in one house, while Jimin and Yoongi occupy the other. Of course, this wouldn’t be official due to the fact that both Jungkook and you are still hybrids and therefore legally not allowed to rent or own any land or property, but it could still work as long as the paperwork stays the way it is right now. Jimin isn’t really sure if he likes the idea.

He knows it’s inevitable, but that doesn’t mean he likes it.

Jungkook and you are gone as quickly as always, with the dog hybrid helping you wrap your scarf around your neck to keep you warm outside. He’s taking you for a bit of a date- he’s doing that a lot in fact. But especially now- with Christmas fast approaching and your love for all things sweet, it’s the perfect time to spoil you rotten.

You don’t tell him about your job hunting. You kind of want it to stay a bit of a secret.

“Do you know what you’d like as a Christmas present yet?” He wonders, warm hand holding yours as he swings them a bit, both of you walking through the busy streets full of food stalls and advertisements. You think a little, unsure.

“I don’t know.” You admit. Jimin and you always exchanged tiny presents, never truly having to think about what to gift the other.

“hm, I’ll have to think of something then.” He chuckles, squeezing your hand a second before he looks ahead again.

Back home, Jimin and Yoongi are arguing once again. “I’m just saying- what if they can’t keep the house tidy? She’s pretty messy..” jimin worries.

“Jungkook will get her to clean up, don’t worry he’s a bit chaotic but they’ll manage.” He easily defends. “jimin, I know it’s hard to let go but-“ he sighs when Jimin turns around, facing away from him. “-she’ll stay close? Literally next door.” He offers.

But it’s not enough. He wants you home.

“She’s already looking for a job. She clearly must be thinking of it too.” Yoongi says. “You can’t keep that away from her. She deserves that freedom.”

“She never worked before. She wont last.” Jimin says, sitting down again to put his head in his hands. “I don’t want her to go through that feeling of failure. She’s fine as it is- why does she suddenly want her own money? Just because Jungkook works?” He whines, and Yoongi shrugs, because he has an idea as to why you could be doing this.

“Does it really matter?” the older male says, sitting down as well. “this isn’t about the money, or the work, or the house, and you know this.” He tries to reason. “it’s about the fact that you don’t want her to leave.”

“Why can’t I have you both?” jimin softly complains. “it feels like I have to choose. Like.. I’d have to take Jungkook away from her to get her back.” He reveals his feelings, making Yoongi stay silent.

Because there’s really nothing he could say to make him feel any better.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Yoongi waits for you in the car as you return from your job interview, offering him the documents to read through. “You know you don’t have to do this, right?” yoongi asks, reading through the papers with a pair of glasses.

“Yeah, but I don’t.. want to just be lazy.” You mumble, playing with your new acrylics you got done with Jungkook. They’re Christmas themed. “Jungkook.. works a lot. And he's always so proud.” You say quietly. “I know working in a grocery store isn’t as cool as his job but..”

Yoongi looks over at you, a gentle expression on his face. “You have a lot to be proud of too.” He says, giving the documents back to you. “and even just part time is already a big thing. You’re a different category than Jungkook, remember that.”

“How do you know?” You ask, surprised.

“both simple observation-“ He smiles a bit, before he flips a page of your document. “-and the ability to read.” He chuckles, causing you to become a bit shy now.

He's right. It’s all written down right there.

“You’re right in the middle of categories. That’s got to be confusing.” He gently tells you. “Go slow and steady. They offer a training day, take it. I’ll bring you and pick you up, and then we’ll decide whether or not you’ll sign it, okay?” He asks, and you nod, watching him drive home in silence.

The moment you both step out in front of his house, you do something unique-

You hug him, an actual, full on hug, arms wrapped around him as you rub your cheek on his chest to scent him. “thanks.” You mumble, and Yoongi awkwardly pats your head, before you run off at the sight of Jungkook after giving yoongi the documents, as the dog hybrid is seen opening the front door to greet you.

“Well, that’s new.” Jimin hums. “is she growing closer to everyone but me now?” He half-jokes- though yoongi can hear some genuine insecurities.

“I think it’s simply evening out, Jimin.” Yoongi tries to explain. “see it like that. Her attention is like a bottle of water. And before, it was all just filling one cup- yours.” He says as they’re both inside the kitchen now, him taking out two glasses and a bottle of water. “But now, there’s more cups to fill. And Jungkook’s simply gets a bit more from her.. well, because it’s a special cup, you could say.” He chuckles.

“I was just as spoiled, huh.” Jimin sighs, taking the glass of water from him, staring at it.

“Pretty much. But just like her, you’ll adapt.” He gently hums, hand on his. “it’s just a bit tough right now. And hey-“ he says, leaning over the table a bit to get closer, faces only inches apart.

“-You’ve got your own special cup too, no?”

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook and you cuddle on the sofa, when he notices it again.

Sometimes, whenever you’re close like this, or he offers you just a tad bit too much physical affection, you seem to become almost drunk off of it. He’s noticed it in public too, whenever he hugs you fully and gives you a lot of kisses or even just a hand on your back running up and down a bit too often. Now, he knows that cat hybrids can get excited from a lot of physical contact- but you seem especially sensitive.

Almost as if you’re not the same category as himself.

He doesn’t really know how to ask you, considering that it might be a touchy subject- but he’s also endlessly curious. Though, right now, it’s not a very pressing issue, as you’re both in the privacy of the home he technically shares with Yoongi. These days, your things have found their way into this house as well though- from clothes in the wash, blankets on the couch, or stuffed toys in his bedroom that you wanted to show off but forgot to take back.

He can’t say he doesn’t like it.

You’re happily purring against him, rolling over onto your back, sweater rising up a bit to reveal your stomach- and he can’t help himself as he leans over you to kiss the skin, cold top of his nose making you giggle. “You’re so pretty.” He chuckles as well, moving up to kiss your lips now. You’re buzzing with emotions now, tail swiping from side to side, smacking hard against the couch now as he charges you up again.

It's then that you bite him, and he notices it.

As if he looks at you for the first time so intensely, he realizes a few things. From the more pronounced feline shape of your pupils, to the more defined sharpened teeth of yours. It doesn’t just seem like you’re a different category- you most likely are.

And yet you seem so aware? Something doesn’t make sense- but right now, it’s not the moment to ask about it.

Instead, he watches how you let go of his arm again, only some slight marks present on his skin, proving that you didn’t mean to hurt him at all- that it was just a reaction to get rid of all that excitement. It’s cute to him, most of all, so he doesn’t really care about it, happy sighing along with you as you both entangle your legs together before you cuddle up, getting ready to nap a little.

It's Jungkook’s favorite part of the day.

If he didn’t like his job so much, he’d stay home with you all day every day, and he’d never get bored of anything at all as long as you’d be there at his side. But to spoil you how you deserve it, he needs money- so it’s currently for the best to be away for seven hours and be able to offer you the best he can.

And you deserve only the best, in his opinion.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You feel ashamed when Yoongi picks you up from your first day.

You had to take breaks way more often than you thought you’d have to, it was honestly stressful despite the fact that you did nothing but stock shelves for four hours. You’re being paid- but you also feel almost defeated. You can’t see yourself doing this long term- you feel absolutely drained.

“I know I’m repeating myself, but it’s fine to admit if it’s not for you.” Yoongi tells you, who just starts at your lap. “no shame in it.”

“Why can’t I be normal?” You mumble.

“Because no one is.” Yoongi simply chuckles. “some might fit a common standard. But there is really no ‘normal’. Only average at best.” He explains.

“then I wanna be average.” You say.

“But that’s not you.” He shrugs. “and we all like you the way you are.” He offers. “Jimin mentioned to me that you don’t like Christmas. Are you upset because of that right now?” He wonders, genuinely curious.

“Christmas.. I don’t know.” You tell him. “It’s all.. a lot. Like, the lights, and the noise, and everyone’s always on edge, and nervous..” you confess.

“Its stressful.” Yoongi concludes, and you nod.

“And I also always feel bad.” You admit. “because.. Jiminie always gets me a lot of presents, but all I can give him is.. stupid stuff I made myself.” You say.

“Ah, now I get why you want to work so badly.” Yoongi clicks his tongue.

“I want to give you guys nice stuff too!” You cry out, finally letting it all out to someone. “I want to make you happy too, but I can’t do anything, and I can’t buy anything! I can only take, that’s it!” You huff angrily, ears pinned back when you notice Yoongi pulling up to a small grocery store. “Huh?” You wonder, distracted, when Yoongi runs a hand over your head- the touch able to calm you down quite a bit as you look at him.

“you and Jimin are very similar, you know?” He smiles. “You need to be more open. Don’t suffer all by yourself- getting help isn’t admitting defeat.” He says. “how about you help with chores at home, and I’ll give you some pocket money for it?”

“But then I’ll take money from you again.” You deny.

“Its not that different from working. You do something, I’ll pay you. Simple.” He shrugs.

“…OK.” You nod, determined, as he reaches over to wipe your cheeks, tears staining them that you didn’t even notice falling.

“there we go.” He grins, before driving back home with you.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

After Yoongi had informed the rest of them back home about your actual issues with the holiday season, Jungkook is now busy making sure the new Christmas lights aren’t blinking anymore but instead glowing steady, settings adjusted. He's almost done, when you rush into the house, almost tripping upstairs. “everything okay?” Jungkook calls, Jimin and Yoongi looking after you as well.

“Everything’s fine, promise!” You call down. “I just gotta wrap some stuff!!” You say, before something chatters, making Yoongi chuckle.

“So all those Years.. she didn’t hate Christmas at all?” jimin wonders.

“I mean, cats are pretty sensitive to stuff like that.” Jungkook mumbles with his head almost entirely stuck within the large Christmas tree. “and she’s a different category so- ouch!” He flinched when the pines prick him a little.

“I never thought that the difference in just seven percent is that big..” jimin shamefully sighs to himself.

“Well, you know now.” Yoongi reassures. “the past is the past. Let’s focus on the future.”

You’re downstairs a few hours later with a few colorful bandaids on your fingers from papercuts, watching the cookies in the oven bake with Jungkook hugging you. Some of them are shaped like cats, others like dogs. “can we eat them when they’re done?” You wonder.

“They’ll be hot though.” Jungkook chuckles. “you’ll burn your tongue.”

“I don’t wanna wait..” you huff.

“I’ll distract you then.” Jungkook suggests. “we can go put the presents under the tree while they cool down.” He says, letting go of you to take them out, careful not to have you get hurt.

“Okay.” You nod, fetching all the little things you wrapped admittedly a bit chaotically. Still, everyone’s proud- it’s not an easy task for you, and it’s clear that you had to take breaks multiple times in between wrapping to get your focus back on track. “mine look all crumpled up..” you pout, sitting on the floor in front of all the presents.

“You got drastically better though after the first two.” Yoongi comments. “that one there looks pretty neat.” He points to a small one, and you purr at that, before you turn. “You want some?” He offers the peeled tangerine, which you take.

“She’s warmed up to him.” Jimin notices from the sidelines, and Jungkook nods, tail wagging.

“Isn’t it great?” He says, though his tail slows when he notices Jimin’s rather somber look. “Why are you so against us loving her.?” He asks, and Jimin looks towards the dog hybrid in surprise.

“What?” He asks, caught off guard.

“I don’t know. But it feels like you’re.. upset that she’s befriending Yoongi. Or that she loves me now.” He explains.

“I’m not upset.” The older human denies. “I’m just.. scared.”

“Of what?” Jungkook calls, bewildered. “aren’t we a family now?”

A family.

Jimin hasn’t really thought of it that way- but Jungkook’s right. Yoongi and the dog hybrid aren’t taking you away, really- they’re more like an extension now, added on instead of pushed into the existing bond you two once had. The only one who pulled away had been himself.

“we all love her. In different ways.” Jungkook smiles. “the only one who’s making it weird is you.” He jokes, before he joins in, tugging on your tail playfully to get you to turn and tackle him, Yoongi sighing as he has to make sure you both don’t tumble right into the tree.

And that night, a switch had been flipped.

Jimin finally jumps over his own shadow again, helping you unwrap your presents, while also almost brought to tears when he receives yours. It’s all warm, and happy, and almost like you’re both back to normal again- but one look around him offers him a true picture of what it is now.

You both have always considered each other family-

You’re just a few more people now.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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strangersmunsons · 1 year

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fried egg I'm in love

Eddie makes you breakfast.

Contains: Eddie x Reader, fem!reader, established relationship, pet names, Eddie fries you some eggs because you should always eat breakfast before a big day. No mention of reader’s physical appearance, no use of Y/N. Warnings: mentions of food & eating (obvi). Word Count: 1,200-ish i am completely delighted by @mcbeanzontoast 's artwork and these sweet lil drawings (1, 2) of Eddie are all i can think about, thank u for the inspo bb! <3 btw srry if this isn't how you like your eggs or if u hate alt-rock themed puns. but personally i feel very strongly about the over-medium thing.

“Eddie. Eddie.”

There’s still no response from the motionless lump on the bed. He’s twisted up in the thin, pilled sheets like he tried to fight them and lost.

His breathing is slow and even, clearly still in a deep sleep. You hope his dreams are pleasant, but not so pleasant that he’ll be upset with you for what you’re about to do.

You lean closer to where you think his ear might be. It’s hidden under a mass of thick curls, but you're pretty sure you’re in the right spot.

“Eddie!”

It comes out even louder than you intended. Oops.

“Huh!”

Eddie jolts awake and tries to roll over, but only succeeds in tangling himself further in the bedding. He squirms and struggles against the taut fabric for a minute, before giving up and letting his body go limp. His face scrunches against the brightness of the room, peering at you with squinted eyes.

You, who have already been awake for an hour. You, who have already washed and dressed and tidied yourself up. You, who are looking at him rather expectantly…? His full lips pull down in a frown.

“What gives?” he grumbles, unhappy to be conscious before noon. As usual.

“Sorry honey, but you didn’t hear me the first four times I tried.”

He sighs, then lets out a sudden gasp. He tries to sit upright, lurching sideways, still thrashing against that damn sheet. “Your interview!”

Bingo!

“Yes, my interview,” you say, too amused and in love with him to be exasperated. “Don’t worry, we still have plenty of time. But you can barely function when you first wake up and I can’t have you falling asleep behind the wheel. I figured I’d get you up now so you have time to adjust.” You reach out and cup his face, rubbing a thumb over his stubbly cheek.

He turns his head in your hand so he can kiss your palm. “Good thinkin', sweetheart. That’s why you’re the brains of this operation.”

You help untangle him and wander out into the kitchen while he heads for the bathroom. Because even bone-deep exhaustion is no match for Eddie's mouth, he pokes his head out so he can talk to you. “How’re you feeling, baby?” The words are garbled and foamy with toothpaste.

“Okay,” you call back from your seat at the table. Well, that’s kind of a lie. “Actually, I’m really nervous, but that’s normal, I guess.”

You really want this job to work out. Eddie’s dying for you to come and live with him in his apartment, but you want a little more financial stability before you move out of your place. You promised him that once you landed a higher paying job you would take the leap. The shiny prospect of perpetual domesticity with your favorite boy is riding on this position, and it's making you gut-wrenchingly antsy.

“You’re gonna be great!” he shouts from around his toothbrush.

Eddie joins you in the kitchen, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s in nothing but his boxers and mismatched wool socks. One is maroon, the other is green with stripes. “Great. You hear me? They’d be lucky to have you. In fact, you should be interviewing them, asking why they deserve to be your employer.” He’s teasing you, but he also means it.

Your stomach flutters at the praise, and at the sight of all that skin he’s showing. You know in your heart that he’s still so warm from sleep.

He yawns, and stretches dramatically. “Have you eaten yet?”

You chuckle and shake your head. “No way. No appetite.”

“Well, you gotta eat. You need fuel on a day like today.” He crosses his arms and frowns at you.

That's humorous, coming from the guy who attended six years of high school running on nothing but mini-pretzels and Mountain Dew. “Eddie, I’m way too anxious to eat right now.”

“Listen, you’ll feel worse if you don’t eat. Because if you don’t have something in your belly, and you’re nervous, you’ll get lightheaded and pass out in the middle of the interview, in which case you won’t get the job, 'cause then they’ll all be thinking, ‘This girl has the temperament of a fragile Victorian woman. Why is she even here? She should be sent to the seaside for her health.’ You know?”

“I…guess so?”

“Trust me, sweetheart, you have to eat breakfast. Let me make you something.”

The Something in question is simple: toast with butter, and fried eggs, over-medium. “Runny enough to dip, but cooked enough so there’s no snotty white stuff,” he says sagely. “It’s the only way to eat 'em.”

You hum in agreement, but you’re more focused on the way he looks standing half-naked in front of the stove, spatula in hand, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

He insists on making your portion first, sliding the plate in front of you and kissing your head when it’s done. “Eat up, doll.”

You thank him quietly and start to eat, watching as he goes through the process over again for himself. Now that he’s taken care of you, some of the tiredness he was staving off returns. His movements get clumsier as his attention oscillates between assembling his breakfast and being your personal cheerleader. He bumps into the counter, nearly burns his fingertips on the stove, and knocks over a glass of orange juice, but steadfastly refuses your offer to take over. Stubborn. You put a pot of coffee on for him.

You feel calmer now, watching his ministrations, listening to his reassurances. You've found that Eddie’s presence seems to be the salve for all your silly little troubles. His throaty morning-voice and dimpled smile send a rush of warmth through you, putting you at ease, like a cup of something hot on a cold day. You feel so lucky to be loved by him.

While you’re adoring him, trying not to get misty-eyed thinking about it, your sweet boy’s about to transfer his second egg to his plate. He's almost done it when he’s wracked with another full-body yawn. It's powerful enough that his eyes close, and his arm jerks the wrong way, and the egg slips out of the pan. It hits the kitchen floor with a wet slap.

Quickly, he looks down, then at you, and then back at the egg. In one swift motion he scoops it up off the floor. “Five second rule.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Ed…” You’re tempted to chastise him more thoroughly because who knows when that floor was last cleaned? Certainly not Eddie. But the way he’s doting on you today makes you hold your tongue.

He shrugs. “Fine. I’ll wash it off.”

He turns the sink on so a thin stream of water comes out. He picks the egg up with his hands, and holds it under the faucet, turning it carefully so that each side gets a gentle rinse. It gets tossed casually back onto the plate.

Completely unbothered, he joins you at the table and digs in.

He finally catches the look on your face. Without swallowing the huge bite of food he just popped in his mouth, he goes -

“What?”

Afterwards, Eddie drives you to your interview just like he promised he would. When you emerge from the building some thirty odd minutes later, feeling victorious, he's right there to celebrate with you.

Neither of you say it, but you're both thinking the same thing. One bed. One kitchen table. One little apartment. One home.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot

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drewsprettygirl · 2 years

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cupid’s arrows 🏹 ˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥

finn wolfhard x actress! fem! reader

fluff 😎😎 [ finally thought of a fluff fic, took me an hour to write wtf ]

warnings: none! 🩰🎀

fits of laughter was heard across the set, they were filming the movie “it.” finn wolfhard and y/n l/n playing as richie tozier and melissa campbell. the popular girl and the loser boy trope. they were probably the ones that the whole cast team would think to date after a couple years.

richie was a part of the losers club. melissa was a friend of greta keene’s. she wasn’t that mean though, she was bearable for the losers club.

“y/n, catch!”

she got uh— she got hit by a ball. she was too busy talking to wyatt, about some new nintendo game that she was planning to buy. her head snapped turning towards finn, with a large smile plastered on his face.

“finn what the fuck, my hair!”

“oops, i did it again.” he danced, dancing the moves as he’s seen from the music video a couple of times.

“stop with the britney jokes!” she was so irritated by finn, but she was basically his best friend on set, and so was he.

finn knew in the best ways possible, on how to tease you. he teased you with the topics of your favorite singer, actor, color, even your own favorite show. or your book. it would always go;

“y/n what drink are you getting, ariana grande or ariana venti?”

“y/n i can��t believe you like waffles more than pancakes, wait— are you attracted to them? waffles are just pancakes with abs.”

and she’d just reply with a very sarcastic laugh. or a genuine one. it depends on how she takes the joke. finn loved seeing her smile, it made him feel great deep inside that he was able to make a pretty girl like you, smile.

every time after an interview, she’d either spend dinner by his. well his mom always insisted. and then it’d lead to a sleepover. and you guys making little vine videos. y/n and finn had a really great friendship.

just to let you know, reader. finn knew jaeden liked y/n. but finn liked her too, i mean as a friend! nothing more, totally nothing more.

well that kinda changed when she started doing more movies, like where she appeared on shazam, spider-man far away from home, let’s just say that y/n was in the acting market in 2019.

she started getting more developed, her looks and herself. and then she landed a role in the third season of stranger things. basically finn’s show. and whenever her character, courtney and mike would have an interaction, filming would be hard. they couldn’t stop laughing at each other. they were like millie and noah basically.

“mom! get off the phone!”

they had to retake that scene so many times because of the way finn and y/n laughed every time he screamed those words into the prop telephone. that’s how he took notice of the way she laughed, and that his feelings would never change for her.

“so y/n and finn, you guys were in it together right?” they were in the tonight show with jimmy fallon right now, y/n sat next to finn and sadie.

“yeah i was richie like the little kid with the glasses and she was—“

“i was melissa! like the girl with the really high ponytail and winked at richie so randomly—“

“how do you even wink like that!? like, like my face has to come with the wink whenever i try it” finn laughed along with gaten, caleb, and jimmy. remembering the part in the it movie where she’d done that.

jimmy thought y/n and finn had chemistry. the way she’d look at him and the way he did. he whispered that to finn when the show was over, he couldn’t sleep that night. he couldn’t stop thinking about what jimmy said. it really made him think that he had a chance with y/n.

more interviews come by, and he always takes notice of what she’s wearing, how her hair was done, how her makeup was done, how her eyes would always look at his and smile.

y/n feels the same, she likes finn. she notices that he always looks at her, scanning her clothes, scanning her hair, then meeting her eyes. maybe finn felt the same? she thought.

they start to hang out a lot more, they surprisingly get roles in the same shows. even in music videos. she always comes over by his house for a sleepover every weekend. basically they made it tradition. he couldn’t help but stare at her sleeping figure whenever y/n’s head drifted onto dreamland earlier than him. she looked so peaceful. she looked so beautiful to him.

they did a music video with weezer. well, weezer was their favorite band. surprisingly, they wanted it to be his band, calpurnia. but finn insisted to add her in as it was probably a dream come true. they were playing as teenagers in the 80’s. well, they always did whenever they had a pretty big movie to act on.

time went past by, for filming it chapter 2. richie and melissa as adults reunite in a drugstore by accident. as for y/n and finn’s part, richie and melissa were going out over for ice cream after henry bowers shames him for playing street fighter with his cousin and then, pennywise sprawls in the sky as they go out of the ice cream shop as a flash back. most of the cast had girlfriends. wyatt, jaeden, jack, and ben.

“when are you gonna ask y/n out?” wyatt plays his game right beside finn. he was planning to, but the timing, it was terrible.

“dunno. i really wanna ask her out but i don’t think it’s like— like it’s time yet.”

“finnjamin, you need to ask her out. i mean atleast jaeden isn’t all eyes for her anymore! you got no competition. take the chance dude” jack said as he was eating a burger. finn was rethinking everything, was he gonna do it?

and eventually to stranger things season 4. filming was long. it took 2 years to come out, and as long how filming sounded, it was the most fun she’s had in filming a show for so long. finn, finn enjoyed that 2 years for spending time with her. well in some parts, because basically mike is now an angsty teenager towards courtney. courtney’s a part of the cheerleading team now, and lucas was in the basketball ball team. whenever mike interacted with courtney, it was either he was with some annoyed expression or a poker face. as for courtney, she’s pretty sad. girl starts to do terrible choices in the show leading to her in the upside down.

and finn eventually confessed his feelings for y/n. and she did the same. they were a match made in heaven, cupid hit the right arrows for them. they were the dream couple,

and she was his dream lover.

bye this took an hour of listening to music for inspo and an hour to write💀💀

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tonaken · 2 years

Text

A closer look_ ADRIAN “ALUCARD” ȚEPEȘ

FIA’S NOTE_ I’m back at it again writing longer pieces hehe. This was supposed to be a drabble/thirst, something with MAX 350-500 words, but I got carried away oops. I gave my baby boy what he deserved

CONTENT_ Thinking of Alucard being a bit…pervy <3

WARNINGS_ ALUCARD x fem!reader, no pronouns used but female anatomy mentioned, AU where Alucard is a famous lawyer (random ik) and your neighbour, voyeur!Alucard, dub-con (you are surprised, but you don’t mind him looking at you), male masturbation, Alucard is a sexually repressed man who is a perv for you <3

W_C_ 1.6k words

Alucard is a man of principle, one that acts with honor and grace. Delicate and poised, his aura is calm, refreshing. Even under the pressure of his job and status, he doesn’t crumble, he maintains his integrity.

The only battles he fights are in the simmering tension of the courtroom, the sword and shield of justice working for him. He struggles with a higher purpose in mind, far above mere victory, nothing short of world improvement.

He’s ambitious, there’s no denying it, and you can tell, especially after you, his neighbour, pointed it out while congratulating him for a recent important win under his belt. It was just a simple interaction and a casual meeting: he had parked in front of his building, you were going back to yours, and you recognized him from the news.

It was hard not to: long, golden locks that flow silkily and amber eyes that hold a warm determination. A soft polite smile when interviewed next to his innocent client, a perfect complexion that appeared like alabaster in the flesh. He was dashing.

He was a bit standoffish when he thanked you, fearing you were some kind of journalist, ready to squeeze him some more after the long day he had. But then you introduced yourself - y/n, he remembers - and he calmed down.

You never talked again after that, too immersed in your respective lives, heads low and buried in work, dragging feet on pavement in the late hours of the night. He always kept an eye on you though, a wandering glance that strayed from his lamp-illuminated cluttered desk. Whether willingly or otherwise he’s not sure.

He knows your routines, the time you get out in the morning, and the three-hour window you should be home by. He knows your weekend rituals and some of your hobbies. He does notice the way the plants on your balcony lose a bit of foliage to then flourish as if nothing happened. Pruning does wonders, it seems.

You’re a decent person, and as high his values and dreams are, he finds your simpler life fascinating. It attracts him, just like you do.

But, a man who knows he doesn’t have time for romance shouldn’t be doing this, he thinks. You seem to be only missing that special person in your life, he barely has time to clean his own house. Your lifestyles are incompatible, he counters; you have fixed work hours, he pulls all-nighters after a day in court. You wouldn’t like him, he argues; you have hanging plants all over your apartment, his body runs exclusively on caffeine.

He gives up even before starting, and as rare as that is for him, he renounces the fight. No, not one against some pesky criminal, or some astute lawyer. It happens to be one against himself, and that makes everything that much more difficult.

Legal quibbles are easy to dodge and unravel, but over the meanders of the heart no laws apply, and oddly enough, it’s within himself that he feels the most lost.

He doesn’t recognize himself when he finds himself fighting his own desires, desires that have become low, unlawful, unrighteous. His eyes drift away from the view before him, but his instincts pull him back again. How shameful of him.

Your curtains are missing, courtesy of spring and the cleaning it brings along with it. Your shadow dances across the windowpane, a stark light showing off a perfect outline. The glass has a frosty finish, and he remembers that it’s your bathroom he’s looking into. A perverted curiosity twists in his belly at all the possible outcomes, but when faced with the view of you undressing, his conscience tries to make an effort to peek through his desire-induced haze.

Your arms raise as you take off your top, but Alucard stays put, tuned in with the show. When you slightly bend over to take off what seem like bottoms, he sees in his mind’s eye the rough fabric that slips off your wonderfully soft skin. He imagines the tender, itchy dents the stitching left behind, and for a second, he would love to kiss them better.

Same goes for the bra he now so clearly sees hanging from your fingers. Your hands trace the patches of skin the straps dug in, and as you focus on massaging the discomfort away, he takes in the silhouette of your chest, nipples sticking out. He licks his lips.

You kneel down again and you're holding another piece of fabric, one with an indistinct shape. But then he notices how thin it looks and he understands. It’s your panties. He wonders how they look on you, what colour they are, and how they contrast with your skin tone. The way the elastic would sink into your flesh, if there is any skin that overflows from the rims, if there’s any fat that spills around your thighs, some he could bite into. His tongue runs over his teeth.

And then, his thoughts wander into much more dangerous territory. He recalls how you’ve just come back from work, twilight running away from the night. He ponders, is there a damp spot in your panties? One he can touch, lick, taste?

He envisions you walking around and adjusting them, maybe for riding too high and disturbing you. He feels hot at the mere thought of the gusset getting trapped in between your pussy lips, rubbing on your clit as you cross your legs during the day.

He’d lap at it to cure the irritation, if you’d let him. Or he could just stretch the material back into its rightful place, and just lick his fingers later. And oh, how good you'd smell. He can only rely on his mind’s imagination to come up with something. A heady, musky scent, but unique to you. He inhales deeply.

Unfortunately for him, you step into the bathtub, too low for him to see through the window. He exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding and a cold sweat takes over him.

Maybe it’s guilt, maybe it’s disgust, maybe it’s disappointment. It’s twisted, dirty in soul and spirit. It shows in the clench of his tight fist, his palm rough and hot against his skin. It displays in the squeeze of his eyes, blown pupils losing focus. It unfolds in the splatter of his seed, webs of it breaking in between his lithe fingers.

The light of your bathroom is long gone by the time he gets into himself. A few stray droplets fall on the carpet beneath him as his hand dangles from his lap, stained, tarnished from his sin. He stares at his paperwork, half page annotated, whilst the rest sits bare, orderly, stern characters swimming in a sea of white. His mind wanders a bit and as his eyes travel along with it, they reach the other side of the street, once again.

Your bedroom windows sit open, but this time, his stomach doesn’t flip in anticipation, nor do his loins burn in need. You walk in lazily, your hands fumbling with light, airy fabric. You’re wearing a robe, one that wraps around your waist and falls softly on your chest. He admires you while you set your new curtains, arms raising and stretching with a gentle grace he’s learnt to appreciate in the last few months.

He tries to remain unmoved, even when your breast spills from its loose confinement, but then there he goes again. His breath hitches and his pulse quickens.

You’re slow in fixing your wardrobe malfunction, seemingly oblivious to how exposed you are. Your hand reaches for the fold hanging off your shoulder, to then put it back in place, fingers taking their time to take in the softness. Your relaxation seems almost intentional, showy, purposeful. It’s a doubt that settles in his mind, one’s which answer he doesn’t have to toil for, though.

He jumps in his chair when your eyes meet his, and, for a split second, he forgets his desk lamp is on. He launches himself in search of the switch, sheets upon sheets of paper now littering the floor, twirling in the air in an array of scribbled white. He quickly gives up, and in a desperate attempt, pulls the lamp’s plug from its socket. It’s a bit comical how he scurries once he’s caught, and you can’t avoid finding him, at the very least, endearing.

He faces you with his back, hand high on his forehead, deep in thinking. He envisions his tainted reputation and his ruined career; “Tepes the molester”, the newspapers speak clear. His mind races as he hides in the darkness, shame, mortification and anger plaguing his thoughts.

A masochistic pull tells him to witness your disappointment and disillusionment, a self destructive need to see the damage he’s done. Sheepish eyes met yours to then widen in confusion.

There is no scowl on your face, nor a cross expression, or any trace of disdain. It’s with a small smile that he's greeted with and he’s left speechless. With a small nod you have him jumping to his feet, running onto your shared street. He has to thank the heavens that there’s nobody around and that he can reach your floor, safe and sound.

You’re quick to reach the door, cracking it open for him to enter. Your robe stays the same, but the look in your eyes is different. It consumes him, yet gives him life. His chest burns and his head spins: lust overtook him again, and there’s a moment where he regrets it all. But then, you speak, and he doesn’t care, not anymore.

“You came for a closer look, didn’t you?”

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

｡ﾟ･Tags_ @gunnedrobin @mykuronekome @berranurates @wakatshi @nathalunalune @dassmyname @mi1kbunnie @yooniluvbot444 @sailewhoremoon @blueparadis

#adrian tepes #alucard x reader #castlevania netflix #castlevania x reader #castlevania smut #alucard tepes #adrian tepes x reader #Adrian tepes smut #alucard x you #alucard castlevania x reader #castlevania imagine #castlevania x you

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pedrotonin · 11 months

Text

LOST IN THOUGHT - PART 1

Or: Thanks to Joel Miller.

[part 2] - [part 3]

Summary: you are Pedro's new groomer and accidently tug his curls a little too hard. Oops.

Pairing: Pedro x female reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Some curse words. Sexual tension (mostly from female perspective)

A/N: Okay, so I decided I would have a go at this fanfiction thing myself. The idea for this is living in my head for a while now. I never wrote fanfiction before, like never in my life.

That, and the fact that English is not my native language, stopped me from giving it a try.

But here we are. Enjoy.

Your first day as Pedro Pascals new groomer was one you wouldn't soon forget.

You'd spend hours preparing for his arrival, pacing back and forth. Waiting. Internally screaming. Panicking. You had, at one point, even called your best friend, who had managed to calm you down a bit. And when he finally walked in with his assistant in tow, you managed to shake his hand and tell him your name. Just like a normal person. Thank god for small mercies.

He sat down in your chair, got rid of his glasses and pulled out his phone. He told his assistent to wait for him at the location the photoshoot was held at in about half an hour. Then he looked up at you in the mirror and smiled. You felt your heartbeat increase.

"So, Mr. Pascal, how wou-"

"Pedro, please,"

You gave him a shy smile and asked how he wanted his hair done. He shrugged and told you to do whatever you'd like.

He then opened his phone, excused himself and started answering texts.

Okay, you could do this. This was your job. You'd done it a million times before. Maybe not with his hair, but still. Hair was hair. Right?

You looked at said hair. It was messy, curly. Brown, streaked with a bit of grey. You inhaled and ran one of your hands trough it. It felt soft. You exhaled. Get a grip.

He already changed for the shoot. Currently wearing grey striped dress pants, a matching waistcoat, a light blue button up shirt and a navy blue tie. Sleeves rolled up just below his elbows, showing his strong arms. You swallowed.

Deciding to put some gel in his hair, so you could slick it back a bit, you reached over his shoulder to grab some products. Your arm brushed his and he looked up at you for a brief moment, before resuming to his text messages...

Dipping your fingers in the product, you willed your inner thoughts to shut up. This was just Pedro Pascal, you could do this. The fact you watched most of his movies, spend more time than you'd ever admit on YouTube looking at his interviews, followed multiple fanpages on instagram and tumblr and read hundreds of fanfictions, it did not matter. You would never tell him this. He did not need to know. Besides you mostly did it to get to know him better. To get to know his different hair styles. It was just work related. Yes, that was exactly what it was. You almost convinced yourself. And the fanfictions? Well, you just liked to read. About him, but still, no harm in reading, right? You were just going to do his hair and that was that. He would never know.

Applying the product in his curls, your mind started drifting to this incredible fanfiction you read last night. It was a Joel one. You especially liked those. Joel Miller, doing all sorts of things to the female reader. Thinking about how you had read it and imagined Joel slowely backing you up against a wall. Pressing his body against yours. Whispering dirty things in your ear. All dominant and needy and...

Pedro let out a tiny groan.

You blinked. Slowly you realised what you were doing. Your right hand was in his hair and you were pulling it. His head even tilted back a bit because of it.

You found his eyes on you through the mirror again. Shit. Shit.

Somehow you could not let go. You were frozen, staring at your own hand.

He groaned again. It shot straight to your core.

You let go and stared at him. Waiting for him to tell you to get the f- out. He did not. Instead he put his phone down, a blush forming on his cheeks.

You forced yourself to speak.

"I am so sor-"

"Mr. Pascal? They are waiting for you." His assistant peeked around the corner.

He got up. Adjusted himself. Donned his glasses and looked at his hair. Fixed it. Your job, your only job...

Turning around he looked you up and down. Heat spread across your entire body. He was so much taller than you. You willed the ground to open up so you could disappear.

He put his hand on your shoulder.

"Lovely to meet you. Untill next time?"

Wait, what?

[next part]

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal hair #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #slow burn #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal rpf

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vanfleeter · 11 months

Text

Rules // JTK

Pairing: Jake x reader Warning: Smut (minors look away), fluff, slight cursing, penetrative sex, fingering, broken nose, name calling, let me know if I missed anything. Author's Note: Thoughts, just thoughts.

Summary: Nerf war turns dirty.

Jake had never been so relieved to leave work, especially so early. He’s usually stuck in the studio with the guys for hours and they never get out until late. Today is different. They only had a few meetings and interviews and by the time they finished it’s only six.

Not wasting any time, Jake packed up his guitar and rushed out to the car. The sooner he gets home, the sooner he can make love to you. That’s all he was thinking about the whole day.

“Why are you in such a rush?” Josh asks as he unlocks his car.

“I just want to get home.” Jake responds as he pulls open his car door and jumps into the seat. “No one text, no one call. I won’t answer.” He slams the car door shut and turns the car on before pulling out of the space and driving off.

Pulling up in the driveway, he quickly gathers her things and rushes up to the front door. He pauses at the door with his hand on the knob when he sees a note taped to the door.

‘Inside you will find a nerf gun. First one shot loses. Good luck!’

Pulling the note off of the door, he pushes the door open and steps inside. Just like the note says, he finds the nerf gun resting on the entry table with several rounds of styrofoam bullets placed beside it. Setting his guitar down on the ground, he picks up the nerf gun and stuffs the bullets inside of it. He gets ready and looks around his surroundings.

He knows she’s hiding. The only question is, where?

The house itself is huge. She could be inside or outside but she never specified the rules on the note.

Slowly walking towards the stairs, he finds a note taped to the wall. He pulls it off the wall to read it.

‘If you win, I’ll do anything you want me to. If I win, you have to do whatever I tell you to do..’

“What are we, twelve?” He grumbles.

A bullet whizzes past his head making him jump. “Oh fuck, I missed.” He hears you groan. Lifting his head towards the second floor landing, he sees you standing there with the gun poised in front of you.

“Give me a chance, will you?”

You shake your head. “Follow the rules.”

“What rules?” He says. “You didn’t set any rules.”

You shrug your shoulders. “Oops..” You say before running away.

“Oh you’re so in for it now!” He calls after you as he runs up the stairs.

He hears you giggling from the bathroom but when he steps inside he finds it empty with the door open leading into the bedroom. Stepping through the door into the bedroom he dodged a bullet as it whizzed by his head again.

“You have a really bad aim.” He says as he pulls the trigger sending one towards you. It sails past your hip as you dip to the side and run out of the room.

He chases after you down the hallway and back down the stairs. “So if you win, what would I have to do?” He calls behind you. “Huh?” He peers into the guest bedroom only to find it empty. “Do you want me to sit pretty for you? Hmm? Naked and whining, I know you like being in charge.”

He steps into the other bathroom and throws open the curtain. No sign of you. You couldn’t have gotten away that quickly.

“Not necessarily.” You say behind him.

He spins around and easily dodges your next shot. You quickly run from the bathroom with Jake hot on your heels.

“Then what would you rather have me do?”

“Are you willing to lose to find out?” You say turning around to face him.

“Hell no I’m not losing.” He says. “Would you just stand still for one second?”

“That’s not in the rules!” You exclaim as you turn back around and run down the stairs.

“There are no rules!” Jake shouts.

“Oh there’s rules, Jacob, there’s always rules.”

“Then do you care to explain these rules?” He says stopping on the last step on the staircase.

You lean against the entry table and twirl the nerf gun around your index finger. “Okay. Rule number one. No touching. Unfair advantage. Rule number two. Avoid the face. Anything shoulders and down is fair game but never shoot the face.” Jake nods his head with each new rule that you state. “Three. If you run out of ammo, you automatically lose. So be wise about when you shoot.”

“Oh that’s not fair.” Jake says. “You know I have a horrible aim.”

You widely grin at him and nod your head.

“You bitch..”

“Ah ah..” You say, shaking your head. “Rule number 4. No name calling.”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Real mature.”

“Hey I’m not the one name calling, I’m just stating the rules.” You push off the table. “Feel satisfied with the rules?”

“So I can’t touch you and I can’t call you names?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

“I hate when you’re in charge.”

You wink at him before raising your gun. “Shall we resume?”

Jake sighs. “I guess so.”

“Good.” You take off into the living room and dive behind the couch, Jake’s bullets sailing over your head and bouncing off the wall. “Be careful! You’re gonna lose all of your bullets.”

“Just stand still then.”

“And lose? I don’t think so.” You say taking aim at Jake.

He dodges the bullet before shooting another one at you. You gracefully dodge it and run out of the living room.

“Come back here!” Jake shouts.

Running through the hallway you head for the back door and slam it closed behind you. You hear a thud and you turn around to see Jake stumbling backwards and holding his face.

“Oh! Jake!” You rush back to the door and pull it open.

“Oh god, that hurt..” He groans. “That really hurt.”

“Shit, Jake–I’m sorry.” You say. “Do you need ice?”

Jake nods his head. “Please.. Less swelling..”

Going over to the freezer, you pull open the door and grab an ice pack. As you turn around you feel a styrofoam bullet hit your chest. You look up at Jake who’s still holding his nose with one hand and pointing his nerf gun at you with the other.

“You cheater.”

He chuckles. “It’s not in the rules. Neither of us called a time out.” You huff. “Gonna be a sore loser?”

“Get your own ice..” You say tossing the ice pack onto the counter and storming out of the room.

“Oh.. Babe!” Jake calls after you. “Come on, don't be like that! Babe!” He grabs the ice pack and presses it to his nose. He follows you upstairs to the bedroom where you crawl onto the bed and cross your arms over your chest. He chuckles and lowers the ice pack. “No one called a time out. I thought it was fair game.”

“Common sense, Jake.”

He smacks his lips and shakes his head. Walking over to the bed, he crawls over to the duvet to sit in front of you. He pulls you onto his lap and kisses you cheek.

“How about we both be winners?” He says. “Fair enough?” You nod your head making him laugh. “Now.. What did you have in mind for me if I lost?”

You take a deep breath. “It was something for both of us.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nod your head and shift your body to straddle his waist. “It’s been a while since we’ve been… Intimate.” You whisper in his ear.

“Mmm, I agree.” He says. “I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

“You have?”

He nods his head. “You have no idea how difficult it is trying to arrange tour dates when all I can think of is being buried so deep inside of you and hearing you screaming my name.”

Gently turning you over so you’re on your back, he presses gentle kisses to your neck and along your collarbone. You moan in content and chew on your bottom lip. He sits you up and pulls off your shirt before laying you back.

“My beautiful wife..” He whispers, his breath blowing by your ear and sending a shiver down your back. He grinds his hips against yours eliciting another moan. “Yeah, my baby likes that, hmm?”

You nod your head. “Mmhmm..” You hum. He chuckles and grinds his hips again.

“You want me to fuck you?” He says rolling his hips into you.

“Yes, please..”

He leans back and reaches for the button of your jeans and undoes them before pulling them down your legs and tossing them to the floor. He chuckles when he sees your soaked underwear.

“I’ve barely touched you.” He says.

“Seeing you with a gun is enough.”

“A nerf gun?” He says, his eyebrows raising in intrigue. “Seeing me with a nerf gun made you this wet?” You nod your head. “Damn, I should've thought of that sooner.” He grabs hold of your legs and pulls you roughly against his hips. He moves a hand between your bodies and walks his fingers along the cloth of your underwear. He sighs, hanging his head back as his eyes flutter closed. “Oh baby, I’ve missed this.” Hooking his fingers around the waistband of your underwear, he pulls them down and tosses them to God knows where in the room.

“Jakey, please..” You whine.

“So impatient..” He tsk’s as he shakes his head. “I want this just as bad as you do, baby–but you know the rules.”

“What rules, Jake?” You say.

“Oh I know it’s been a little while, but did you already forget?” He brings his index and middle fingers to his mouth and wets them with his tongue before bringing them to your center and slowly inserting them inside of you. You throw your head back against the mattress as you moan.

“Rule number one.” He says removing his fingers. “You call me ‘Sir’. You know how I like it when you call me that.”

You claw for his hand to bring it back but he pulls it completely away and holds it in the air.

“Rule number two. No touching.” He says winking at you.

“You bastard.”

“Ah ah,” He shakes his head. “Rule number three. No name calling.” He says pulling from your rules from earlier. “Only I will do that.”

“But-”

“Nope, I’m in charge now.” He brings his fingers back down and reinserts them a little more rougher than the first time. You hiss and grab hold of the sheets. “And the fifth and final rule. My favorite rule.” He slowly begins to pump his fingers in and out of you. “I want to hear you scream my name. No biting your lip or burying your face. I want to hear you scream until you lose your voice.”

“Mmmm,” You moan. “Okay.”

“Okay what?” He pauses his movements.

“Okay, sir.” You repeat.

“Good girl.” He says as he resumes.

Feeling you clench around his fingers, your tell that you’re close, he withdraws his fingers causing you to whine again.

“Jake–Sir, please.”

He licks his fingers clean of your arousal before removing your legs from his hips. He climbs off the bed and slowly strips his clothes teasing.

“Jacob, you son of a-”

“Ah ah ah,” He stops pushing down his pants, allowing them to hang from his thighs. His cock, hard and throbbing behind his briefs, rests on the zipper of his open pants. “Rule number three.”

You groan and throw your head back. “Jake please..”

“Who? I’m not quite sure who that person is.” You glare at him, making him laugh.

Discarding his pants he pulls down his briefs to allow his cock to spring free from its confines.

“Baby, do something for me.” He says as he wraps his hand around his length and gives it a couple strokes. “Touch yourself.”

“Of course, sir..” You reach down to your folds and begin to pleasure yourself.

“That’s my girl,” Jake says as he continues to stroke himself. “You’re so beautiful when you touch yourself. Does it feel good?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I bet it doesn’t feel as good as my cock, rubbing against your walls and touching all of your sweet spots.”

A moan escapes you as you throw your head back. Jake chuckles and moves towards the bed.

“That’s what I thought.” He leans in between your legs and grabs your hand. He raises it to your lips. “Taste it.” You open your mouth and wrap your lips around your fingers. “Yeah, you taste that sweetness?”

“Yeah..”

“You taste so good, baby.”

Pushing you up the bed to rest in the pillows, he adjusts himself between your legs. Lining himself up with your entrance, he slowly enters you. Though it isn’t the first time, he still wants to be gentle with it being a few weeks since you two have been close like this. You both relax into each other.

“This is the last time we ever go this long with each other.” He says. “God I’ve missed this..”

Slowly he pulls out before shoving himself back in. It doesn’t take him long before he finds his rhythm and eventually picks up his pace.

“Oh, Jake..” You moan. “Just like that baby.”

“You always take me so well.”

He lifts one of your legs to wrap around his waist as he digs in deeper. “Oh fuck, Jake!” You cry out.

Digging your fingers into his back, you drag them across his skin leaving red marks in their wake. As he continues thrusting into you, he brings one hand down and uses his thumb to run circles into your clit.

“Fuck, Jake!” You moan. “Jake, please please don’t stop.”

“You like that, don’t you, my little slut?”

“Yes, sir, very much.” You say digging your fingers deeper into his back. “Oh god.. Jake.. I’m.. I’m-”

“Fuck baby, you’re doing so good.” He says. “Let go baby, I’ve got you.”

He wraps his arms around your waist and holds you close. You can feel the burning feeling in your core. How it feels so wonderful to be feeling that again. Just like always, as you allow your orgasm to flow through you, Jake holds you tightly as he fucks you through it. It isn’t long until he reaches his climax and releases inside of you.

“Oh fuck.” He cries. “I love you baby.. I love you so much.” He presses his lips to yours. He can still taste some of your arousal on your lips.

Removing himself from you, he lays his head on your chest as he works to relax his body. As the two of you come down for your highs, you run your fingers through his sweaty hair.

“I need more ice..” He says.

You laugh at the random thought. “We can get you more ice. Just lay here for a second, please.”

“Of course baby.” He says snuggling into your body.

–Next Day–

Jake steps into the studio and drops his guitar in the sound room before meeting up with the others in the conference room. “Sorry I’m late.” He says as he falls into the chair. When he lifts his head he finds the three staring at him. Their eyebrows raised. “What?”

Sam slowly points to his own nose. “Your..nose..”

“What did you do?” Danny asks.

“It’s so swollen..” Josh says as he gently pokes it.

Jake smacks his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch it.”

“Well what’d you do?” Josh reiterates for Danny.

“(Y/N) got into a game of nerf guns and I ran into the back door.” Jake explains.

Sam snorts, earning a glare from Jake. “Sorry, but.. How-”

“She shut the door on me and I couldn’t stop.” He groans and hangs his head. “It doesn’t look that bad, does it?”

“No, no!” The three of them say as they shake their heads.

“Really?”

“Ehh..” Josh shrugs his shoulders. “You look like you have a clown nose.”

Jake groans and slides down in the chair as he covers his nose. “No more games.. No more.”

Josh chuckles. “Let’s get started on our tour itinerary.”

O fim

#jake kiszka #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fic #greta van fleet fanfic #smut #jake kiszka smut

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mendesblurb · 7 months

Text

Our Souls Underwater

Shawn Mendes x female reader

Warning ⚠️: Mostly fluff, one or two mentions of smut, maybe grammar error and maybe some punctuation errors.

Word count:~2.4k

A/N: The following fic is a “friends with hidden romantic feelings” situation and it is the result of the author spending countless amount of late night hours with this one guy, where they were just two people keeping each other company while completing their own assignments and exchanging stories about life before romantic feelings emerged along the way. Oops that was kinda TMI (my bad lol), anyway do let me know your thoughts and opinions, so sorry for this story being random 🙈

Coming back from any long hours of interview sessions or live performances always felt strange for Shawn Peter Raul Mendes. It was an exhilarating and exhausting experience that made transitioning from a stadium full of people, sleeping in hotel rooms or tour buses and performing for millions of fans to feeling the peace and quiet of his own home always take some time for him to adjust.

His therapist had suggested that he should find something to make him unwind after long hours spent existing under a microscope and flashes of cameras capturing each and every move he makes like a hawk watching its prey.

Everyone but him has formed some routine to unwind. For example, Connor would always want to eat pizza and binge-watch some new Netflix releases, Brian and Meghan were always quick to turn themselves into a pair of bunnies by doing something frisky under the sheets, and you on the other hand, would much rather be soaking long hours under a bathtub full of warm temperature water.

“Think of it as another form of self-care or relaxation technique.”

“You have to say that you’ve done it at least once or twice. Nothing to be ashamed about if you admit that you don’t hate it that much, Mendes,” Connor added.

“Guys, please, I simply don't like the idea of feeling like a boiling asparagus stick.”

“You will not feel like a boiling vegetable.”

“You know, Mrs. I cannot function without baths. I really can't picture myself in a bathtub full of warm water, especially regarding relaxation purposes.”

“Aww, look, someone is turning into Mr. Grumpy,” You said, a sly smile creeping onto your lips, “You know what can help you feel better?”

“Y/n,” he warned, “Don’t you dare finish that sentence by implying that the only thing that can cure me is a bath, I swear to G—.”

“Oh, enough with the weird bullshit reasons, Mendes!” Connor interrupted from the living room, “I’d bet you don’t want to admit to us that you feel scared with the idea of soaking long hours in the warm water, huh?”

You and Connor found yourselves letting out a huge laugh at the thought of him avoiding these baths because he feels scared of the water like a kitten, “I am not a baby,” Was the only thing Shawn said, accompanied by an annoyed eye roll.

“Hear that? Yeah, that’s the voice of somebody who needs nothing more than a relaxing bath to unwind his entire day,” you said in a baby voice, mocking the singer.

“Okay, perhaps I’ll make an exception. If ever I am in a bathtub, it will only be because my girl will be joining me,” He said with a charming smile, secretly loving how the way your face would immediately react to his statements or flirtatious remarks with a fluster written and visible all across your face.

It was as if one, two, or three seconds snapped like the hand of Big Ben or the one at the Grand Central station clock that never comes late, as you always found yourself taking a few short moments to digest each and every word and sentence coming from him and try to reply to something, anything but only for it to come out as a stutter.

“Would you look at that? Ladies and gentlemen, we have a new fast-track record. Only one sentence and I have the girl lost for words. I wonder where Mrs. Independent, I need no man exterior you claim to have?” Shawn said, throwing you a wink, playfully swiping his thumb across your cheek, and closing the distance between, getting dangerously close to where you were standing.

“Oh, shut up, Mendes!” You composed yourself and moved his hand away, “You and I both know I would rather do a whole list of other things than get in that tub with you.”

You said your last sentence so sarcastically, casually as such of every other interaction you exchanged together before grabbing your favourite ice cream out of the freezer and heading to your room.

The thing that some, if not most, people still cannot wrap their heads around is the fact that It’s been the definition of years, maybe even ever, since you both fully understood the true meaning of friendships that you and Shawn have been friends.

The best of friends that could go as far as the ability to exchange millions of sarcastic sentences, have never-ending conversations about nothing and everything that ranges from philosophical things to something as far as topics about the actual difference between sex for male compared to females for hours on end if time wasn’t a constraint, secretly craving the company from the other person whenever apart, exchange of daily text messages across multiple social media platforms, then having the once every blue moon bickering like an old married couple over the stupidest stuff according to your close group of friends, and all that with an undeniable sexual tension visible for anyone to question the true nature of your relationship and a huge dash of endless back-and-forth flirtatious acts or words exchanged.

It was apparent to perhaps even the whole world that for the two of you to had the very ability to share a friendship like that, and the miracle for two people to establish this type of bond was rather beautiful and bizarre yet strange at the same time. It came as no surprise that when confronted individually, none of you dared to make any vast gestures that make romantic feelings evoke even more than they already have, as both your heads are imprinted with the belief of the other not feeling the same way, or hate the idea of ruining this friendship over the possibility of one person wanting to confess their true feelings suppressed over the lifelong friendship and establishing something romantically together.

It was then a couple of weeks later when you all found yourselves in the same spot, just coming back from Shawn’s live perfomance over a few cities. But this time, it was all packed into a tight schedule that made the singer and the entire crew exhausted to the bone. It was difficult for Shawn, as it seemed like he was pulled into different directions simultaneously with no time to catch his breath. He hadn’t said a word to anyone since the last show wrapped up, and everyone gave him some much-needed personal space during the flight back. Exhaustion was clinging deep into his body and flooding his mind to the point where he just wanted to shut his brain off and forget about everything; so much that he found himself walking past everyone and heading straight to his room without thinking twice.

You knew how exhausted he must’ve felt, so before you reached his bedroom, you gently grabbed his arm, “I don’t want to talk to anyone right now, please,” He said.

“I just wanted to tell you that I am aware that the past couple of days were nothing but a hectic blur, so I just wanted you to know that I’m here for you if you want to talk about anything or just sit silently. I’m always here for you, no matter the time or moment you need me.”

Those were the last few words you said before letting his hand go, once again giving him the space he needed, and you knew that exhaustion had already taken over his body as soon as he lay on the bed and closed his eyes.

You didn’t know that even a few short hours later, he was still tossing and turning under the sheets, unable to shut his eyes or mind off and get some much-needed rest, although his mind and body felt exhausted.

His head turned around and looked at the clock, 23:01 it displayed. For a while, he sat on his bed, checking his phone for updates about anything before exiting the room to distract his mind. The corridor was dark, with only one light source coming from your bedroom door. The singer paced a couple of times outside your door, debating whether he should knock but thinking whether your nocturnal companion was still keeping you awake or had you already fallen asleep, exhaustion taking over before you could gain the energy to turn off the lights.

However, before thinking further, he found his hand knocking on the door. To his surprise, a light knock was enough to open the door, “Y/n? Are you awake?” His voice lowers into a whisper while peeking his head into your room, only for his gaze to fall into an empty bed. You were nowhere to be found until he heard the light sound of your Spotify playlist coming from the bathroom. You were there, and he knew that his next steps were risky or, more accurately, invading your personal space. But part of him didn’t care. Selfishly, he just desperately could really use your company.

And so he took a couple of steps until he was at the bathroom door, with each step he could hear his own heart beating faster and the sounds of the faucet as it hit the bathtub and your favourite singers on the speaker only made him even more nervous, second-guessing his decision.

“Shawn?” You say from behind the cracked door.

“Um, yeah, it’s me. How did you know?” He responded nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as his mind was still second-guessing and debating whether his decision was actually a good idea.

“Who else has a nocturnal side that they cannot kill?” You said, trying to hold back your laughter.

“You know me so well.”

“You can come in if you want, or it’s okay too if you feel more comfortable, we can just keep talking through the door.”

The singer finally decided to interact with you appropriately as he found himself opening the bathroom door and stepping inside. The sight of you greeted him in the tub. The room was illuminated with the soft glow of your favourite candles, the scent of essential oils that were for therapeutic purposes, white puffy bubbles all across the tub of water, and the sound of your favourite playlist.

Tonight was the first time he truly ever took the time to notice it.

“Sorry, I just- well, I know this is- I wanted to - I don’t know who else -” he was stumbling, couldn’t form the proper set of sentences at the mere sight of you. You looked beautiful yet angelic. It was apparent to him that you were the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on, but right now, even as your hair wasn’t done, or any makeup didn’t cover your face, or you weren’t wearing any dresses that perfectly hugged around your body; that he found himself more mesmerised by how your existence was enough to make him feel all sorts of comfort that no therapy sessions, lavish parties or meditation could genuinely give him.

“It’s okay. You know we don’t have to talk,” You say, “Care to join me?”

It felt like gravity was pushing him to decide instead of his brain controlling his movements as he already found himself stripping out of his clothes. Meanwhile, you found yourself with your head facing the wall, feeling sudden shyness at the sight of your opposite-gender friend removing all his clothing from head to toe in front of you.

“You don’t have to look away, you know. I bet it’s not your first time encountering the male anatomy, and I am getting inside the water with you.”

“I know, but this- this isn’t like that,” You said, still choosing to look away, “We are not doing anything to satisfy a pang of hunger. This is something else. I don’t want to ruin this moment by looking into it as if it is something that-“

“Yeah, just something that should be fulfilled at a more appropriate time,” Was all your friend could reply before carefully stepping into the tub, trying to keep his balance. Once he settled up, he scooted closer to your side, not too close to minimise any possible distance, but enough for the two of you to be situated in front of each other.

As he sinks deeper into the lukewarm water, you are glad to see how a deep sigh of relief escapes his lips, with a tired gaze his eyes rolling from all the exhaustion, his body relaxing, shoulders casually leaning into the walls of the tub, and sight of feeling at ease, comfort, and gush of smile was written all across his face.

“Is it the bubbles that finally persuaded you?”

“Perhaps that or maybe the whole idea that I actually feel more relaxed in a way I never thought possible and not feel like an actual boiling vegetable stick is finally winning me over,” he said, and you both laughed at that.

Then, moments later, as the conversations drift to more illogical ones and the laughters died down, you again faced him, “I’m sorry, I can only offer my companion.”

“Are you kidding me?” He smiled, “This is the best thing that anyone has ever done for me all year long.”

More minutes passed by, as none of you seem to remember how long you two lay there. But, when the two of you started to yawn more and more, you decided to get out of the water, “Mendes, face the wall. I need some privacy while I get out of here.”

“You’re telling me you still need privacy? I thought we moved past that. Y/n, we have been naked in here the whole time!” He shook his head and laughed as he turned to the wall, ears perking up to the sounds of water gently splashing as you got out of the tub, and his eyes could not help shoot you a side-eye glance through the mirror.

“Prying eyes,” You said with a smile as your eyes locked through the mirror, wrapping the towel on your body, “You can look now.”

“Pass me one of the towels, too?” he said as he stood up from the tub. Your eyes were wide open at the sight of him standing tall in nothing but his birthday suit. You could hear your heartbeat increasing and butterflies fluttering across your stomach before your hands moved quickly to pass him the towel and turned to face the door, clearly feeling the sudden shyness again at the current situation you found yourself in, “Prying eyes,” Was all he said back, with a signature boyish grin and million dollar smile that you knew was already written all over his lips.

“This was actually fun, we should do it again,” He said, pressing his lips to your temple before hands gathering his clothes and walking out of the room.

What have both of you started?

———————————————————————————————

Thank you for reading guys... feel free to like, reblog, follow my account, leave a comment and my chat is always open for random chats or requests... appreciate every single one of you... ❤️

Taglist (open) : @monikamendes @holland-styles @bvttercuppp @lonelyreputation @badreputationlove @shawn-is-my-giant-jellybean @daisies-and-chai @swiftmendeshoran @yournameoneverypage @shawn-is-bruh @mendesboy @mendesbhraanth @perfectlywrongformendes @imaginashawnn @smendes-forever @nervousmendes @whenyoureadyholland @shawn-youth @myboyshawnie @camilalewisss @camilalewiss @theregoesmyherojd @nanijaac1 @shawnieeboyy @silverswallow @inlovewithmendes-blog @mendeslola-blog @mendesx123 @23kofmendes @jellyloml @chipofmendes @poohmendes @wutheringmendes @shawnmendesbuddy @chocochipcookie305 @socio-kai-path1972 @mendesficsxbombay @mendesmylover-blog

Story Code: 160923107

#shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fandom #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes x female reader #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes x you #shawn mendes story

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andhumanslovedstories · 8 months

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Hello! I love your blog very much. I too am a second degree nurse. I just graduated from an ABSN program and I'm struggling to get my foot in the door anywhere despite good grades + honor society membership + in state license already secured. I live in NYC and the nursing shortage here is CRAZY but for some reason no one wants to talk to me. Would you recommend home health nursing for someone in my situation? I did my preceptorship in the ED and that's 100% where I belong, but the bills are really piling up and I have no prospects. How long did you do home health before you went bedside? Thank you for any advice you have!

(Disclaimer though for all this, I'm across the country from you and have no idea the landscape of nursing jobs in NYC.)

I worked in home health for 18 months. If my goal was to get to the hospital as quick as possible, I didn't need to be there that long. I wasn't in any particular rush to move on. Plenty of people worked less than that and got hired at a hospital, I think something like a year was the average. I know the different between sending out my new grad resume and sending out my home health nurse resume was night and day. As in: literally anyone wanted to interview me.

I'd encourage you to at least apply and see if you can interview. You get to interview the company right back, and that'll let you know the kinds of work they expect from you. There are two main types of home health: the kind where you visit a lot of patients in a day and the kind where you're with one patient for the entire shift. The first kind is doing stuff like dressing changes, medication management, or periodic assessment. The second kind is more like general caregiving with nursing related requirements. I mostly did the second one, and worked night shift. So I fed a patient dinner, I gave them a bath, I got them dressed for bed, then tucked them in and stuck around until morning for their needs in the night. But within that was trach management, seizures, G tubes, medications, central lines, ongoing assessment, all that stuff that got this person nursing hours. I'm not gonna lie--it was often very very boring. I read a lot of books.

(btw west coast disclaimer again, but if you're willing to work nights, you'll get hired more easily. Everyone everywhere in the world doesn't have enough night shift coverage. also, oops! this got long and became an essay on home health!)

For downsides, in home health you can get limited training and orientation before you're alone, responsible for a patient. And then it's all on you. I had some gut-dropping moments early on where I encountered something I didn't know how to handle and didn't know how urgent it was. There's supposed someone you can call at all times, but multiple times when I did call, no one picked up. It can be super stressful and frankly dangerous as an inexperienced nurse. Luckily, many times you have the patient's family as a resource. It's likely they've been doing this years longer than you have. Though it's worst thing in the world when you wake someone up at 3 am because you're unsure and concerned, and then have that person explain in a really supportive tone of voice that these frequent, very brief seizures were probably just hiccups. Hypothetically speaking.

You can get too entwined with the patient and family's lives. It's hard to call out sick because you know no one can cover you. It's easy to cross emotional boundaries. Imagine spending 40 hours a week with someone and their family. They'll occupy a spot in your brain.

And I don't think it's a great place for a new nurse to stay for years and years, just for like professional development reasons. You won't get exposure to a variety of patients (unless you work that other type of home health in which case enjoy seeing eight different patients a day, hope traffic doesn't suck), so it's easy to forget stuff you just learned. I never had to think about transfusion reactions until I started at the hospital and shit now it's relevant all the time. I had to completely relearn how to hang an IV piggyback. Plus, since you work alone, you don't get the chance to see how other nurses work. It's hard to figure out a profession when you practice in complete isolation. It's easy to learn bad habits and have no one ever correct you.

But there's a lot I like about home health. You really do have a perspective on patients and patient care that is unique to home health and long-term care. In the hospital, you don't always get that long-term perspective. If you work with someone for a while, you can track how they progress or decline. Why do some clients stay at home for years and others keep going back to the hospital? What's different about their conditions and cares? You see all the work it can take to keep them steady. That's perspective that easy to lose. It helps you put the patient on a timeline that extends beyond the hospital. If you click with a patient and/or family and work with them for a while, it can be very satisfying working with them because you see so clearly the impact you're having.

Also! I read so many fucking books! I listened to so many podcasts (played so so softly). I knitted and learned sudoku and practiced yoga, looked up vacation spots, put in my grocery orders, and organized my playlists. I also could research and research and research. I had time to look up everything about every condition my patient had, and once I felt more comfortable with those, I moved on to looking up whatever other disease process and patient experience seemed interesting. I'd make myself a little curriculum and, after my patient was tucked in, and be like "tonight's class is vlogs about having a trach."

There were plenty of shifts where I bustled all fuckin night, and sometimes those shifts seemed to be in one endless hellish row, but often I had a lot of time to myself that I could spend however I wanted, as long as I was still in the room with the patient, able to meaningfully hear and see them, and keeping up with the night routine. I fucked around a lot and got paid for it because the job is to be available when needed, and you're not always needed. (I'm not saying slack off! I'm just saying even colicky babies sleep peacefully now and then.)

Anyway jesus christ that got away from me, but like please know that I was in your exact place, and I know how much it sucks and how crazy it makes you feel because I THOUGHT WE WERE SHORT ON NURSES DON'T ANY OF YOU FUCKERS NEED A NURSE, and know that all the other job hunts after this should and will be easier than this.

#nursing tag

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squivulous · 7 months

Text

My Podcast Masterlist

I have a long commute, giving me two hours a day to listen to podcasts. Here is my documentation of all the audio dramas I’ve consumed plus a little blurb. I just wanted to organize them in a list and also (selfishly) get recommendations if anyone would be so kind. Or maybe you’ll see something that’ll interest you. Enjoy!

Podcasts I’m Caught Up With

The Penumbra Podcast: I’ve made an animatic for this one. I’m down bad. This is the one that sucked me into this podcast world.

Malevolent: Arthur dating sim when??? Everyone wants him. Also it took me way too long to find out it was an actual play podcast.

Red Valley: Gordon fan all the way. Normally I do like the Sad Boy but Gordon is that type of dorky that makes me want to protect him.

Caravan: Interesting world and love a main character that makes questionable decisions. Everything is going to be fine :)

WOE.BEGONE: I’m obsessed. It happened slowly but now I think about it every day… And the music is so good! Mike Walters is cringefail, bbygurl, easy to manipulate, and saws his left arm off at the shoulder.

The Cellar Letters: Legit gets me spooked at times. Steve and Nate are good vibes. I’m sure glad nothing ever happens to them.

Harbor: Love that Sam being a malewife ruined his life.

Rifted: Aurora, another Sad Boy to add to my collection. Daniel should give him a kiss to make him feel better.

Heroics: Pls come back some day… I need more Josh. He’s in his slay era.

Second Fiddles: Max is owning being a bbygurl. Also there are a lot of poop jokes which is weird but I’ll look past it.

Hand in Glove: idk anything about baseball but these baseball players are smoochinggg.

Find Us Alive: Lancaster in booty jorts. It's canon. Don't look it up. I'm right. ALSO HE NEEDS TO TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM PLS.

The Kingmaker Histories: The kiss is still the subject of much historical debate. Eisen <3

The Viridian Wild: It hasn’t been updated since 2021 but I still have hope.

Dos: After You: Ghosting GONE WRONG

Brimstone Valley Mall: SEASON TWO IS COMING. 90’s mall setting is really fun and I’m here for the thing Asmoraius and Trent have going on.

Levian: It starts off with a bang! Well not quite since his sister walks in oops. Excited to see where this pirate tale takes us.

Midnight Burger: Each episode is a delight and as someone who is bad at science, I appreciate Gloria and Caspar. Caspar pls stay forever and also Brodie <3

Return Home: I’m really listening to it for Buddy and DW.

Raythe Reign: Sometimes you need a yaoi.

The White Vault: At this point, I know what I’m getting into and yet still decide to get attached to these characters

The Amelia Project: Please don’t hurt the Interviewer! He’s too goofy for all this drama. I’m scared!

Fawx & Stallion: James Stallion being canonically hot in any situation is such a win

Victoriocity: Inspector Fleet has had a long week and needs some days off

Yokai Detective Agency: I’m always a sucker for detective stories and I’m looking forward to where this one is going

Desert Skies: Charming characters and love that the plot has a nice pace, not dragging things out

The Grotto: the music is so good but also please help. The emotional turmoil is torrential.

Camlann: Yo…. Dai, for real???

Podcasts I’ve Completed

Dash: This might not be completed? This is actually the first audio drama I finished. Classic noir but supernatural and boys are smooching!

The Two Princes: This was wholesome and had good vibes. I prefer the first season but it was still a fun time.

The Magnus Archives: Arrived late to the party on this one, but I love all the fanart. Awakened my interest in pathetic men.

EOS 10: I also am not 100% sure this is done but I enjoyed the shenanigans!

Wolf 359: Eiffel, my beloved. I liked the silly and dramatic parts of this story. It hurt my soul but it was worth it :)

Time:Bombs: noahdeaart's fanart made me think this was going in a different direction... Still a fun one!

Valence: Love this one WAAAAHHH! Pls listen. I love Nico. Sad Boy but hides it under their chaos energy.

The Bright Sessions: I would 1005% listen to a spin-off just about Mark. This Sad Boy keeps collecting trauma and I need to see him and Oliver maybe go on adventures or something. ANYTHING.

Roommates: I, too, had a pandemic college experience. It's kinda bizarre that there's already a story about that and I love it!

Look Up: Wholesome. Briggon Snow kept me fed.

Moonface: Appreciate having an audio drama from an Asian American perspective. Didn’t realize how much I needed that.

Murray Mysteries: Must protect Jonathan.

Kaleidotrope: More wholesome content. I got more into it by the second half. The hosts have a fun dynamic!

Re: Dracula: Still thinking about Inside You.

Wooden Overcoats: Rudyard is my fav. Chapman deserves the hate.

The Vanishing Act: this Rudyard wasn’t my fav. I was happy to listen to him suffer but also happy when he fell in love. A win for Griffson!

Greater Boston: Michael Tate <3

Ars Paradoxica: Nikhil Sharma <3

Podcasts I’m Catching Up On

Life with Althaar: I knew that plant lady was sus

The Night Post: Ashley……

Love and Luck: I’m on ep 87 now some magical things are going down

Going Lowbrow: I wasn’t expecting a musical but I’m not complaining.

SAYER: There are no bees on Typhon :)

WTNV: I got behind during high school and now I’m too scared to get caught up… one day. It's been so long at this point I think I'd need to start over.

BRASS: I fell behind on episodes :(

Not Quite Dead: If there are vampires, I'm automatically interested. Only a few eps in.

Hi Nay: I’m listening to Murphy respectfully.

Podcasts I’ve Dropped

Moonbase Theta Out

Dreamboy

Archive 81

The Sheridan Tapes

Jar of Rebuke

I’ll keep this updated every so often. Most of these I’ve found either from scouring rec lists or seeing nice fanart.

Please let me know of any recommendations you may have! Thanks for reading if you got this far. Mad respect.

Last updated: 04/14/24

#podcasts #podcast recs #audio drama #squiv speaks #I didn't know I listened to this many

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here2bbtstrash · 1 year

Text

real magic - teaser (explicit)

❆ genre: smut, fluff, bangin’ your boss, m attempts kidfic

❆ pairing: namjoon x reader

❆ summary: the holiday season has never meant anything to you beyond suffering long hours for minimum wage and awaiting the collapse of capitalism— but this year, you’d be willing to add making out with your DILF coffee shop boss to the list.

❆ teaser word count: 1.4k

❆ teaser contains: the good ol' "moving back to your hometown" hallmark trope, the bittersweet nostalgia of the holidays when you're not a kid anymore, moni being a little shit, sweaty namjoon (YES that's a warning 😩), namjoon in a protect trans kids shirt (oop i told you it was coming!!!!), all wrapped up in a nice lil meet-cute bow 🎁

❆ part of a hyung holiday collab - dropping december 2022!

❆ A/N: ahhhhh i am SO EXCITED about this collab y'all 🫠 hope you're ready for some hot dad namjooooooon~ and i'm beyond stoked for the hyung goodness @nabiolive @gimmethatagustd and @haliiimede are gonna bless us with like we're not WORTHY 😭 be sure to go check out their teasers and show them some love!!! 🤍

With several hours to kill before your job interview and a growing desire to avoid the weird nostalgia of your childhood that seems to lurk in every corner of your parents’ house, you decide to take a walk.

The sky is bright blue and cloudless, and though the air is brisk, it isn’t terribly windy. You tuck in your earbuds as you shut the front door behind you and pick a direction, aimless, letting your mind wander to the soundtrack of your “seasonal depression” playlist.

A whole new crop of families must have moved into your parents’ neighborhood in the years since you moved out, because the streets are more alive with kids than you can ever remember them being, even when you were a kid yourself. Bikes and scooters lay abandoned on the sidewalks between homes, and you can hear the repeated echo of a basketball dribbling on a driveway, punctuated by distant, playful screaming.

Even in the daytime, you can tell these families have spared no expense when it comes to Christmas decor: some homes have every eave outlined in string lights, some have candy cane stakes dug into the perimeter of their perfectly manicured lawns, and some have been seemingly invaded by small armies of inflatable reindeer and snowmen. You can’t help but giggle a little at the inflatable decorations that have been set to turn off during the day, the way the airless material lays limp in the grass, giving the impression of a yard strewn with dead bodies.

But you remember what it looked like when you drove in last night, everything lit up and brought to life.

Your parents definitely didn’t have inflatable lawn decorations when you were a kid, but you’d get so excited every year when your dad would drag the ladder out and spend the day stringing up the simple rainbow lights you did have. You still remember the little spark of joy you’d feel in your chest when the colors would click on after dark, the way you would run outside every night just to see them twinkle, your breath puffing steam clouds in the air, your bare feet freezing on the ice-cold driveway.

It felt like magic then. But somewhere along the way you grew up. And now that feeling’s gone. Even at night, the lights just look like… lights.

Distracted as you are by the music in your ears and thoughts of your childhood that have brought you to a standstill on the sidewalk, you don’t notice what’s happening until it’s too late.

A blur of red and white is suddenly circling around and between your legs, and you feel something twining over your ankles, then tugging with a force that threatens to knock you off balance. As you lean forward in an attempt to right yourself, the chaos in question slows enough for you to realize it’s a fluffy white dog in a red sweater, who has excitedly tangled you up in his leash.

You manage to find the looped end of the leash and slowly get yourself unwrapped while the dog continues to pant and jump and occasionally yap at you. With your legs freed, you squat down for a proper greeting, laughing to yourself as he lifts up on his hind legs, balancing his paws on your knee to lick an enthusiastic greeting across your cheek.

“Hi, puppy,” you murmur, trying to get him to hold still long enough to read the name on his tag. A voice beats you to it.

“Moni!”

When you glance up to find Moni’s owner jogging up the sidewalk, you have to make a conscious effort to keep your own tongue in your mouth, because good lord, he is fine.

He’s tall, towering over you even once you bring yourself back up to standing, and the black workout tank and athletic shorts he’s wearing do absolutely nothing to hide the thick, well-defined muscles of his arms, chest, and thighs.

Despite his lack of clothing in the cool winter air, you can see his face and neck are slick with sweat, his white-blonde hair damp with it too. There’s even a dark patch that’s soaked his shirt at his sternum, making the firm swell of his pecs that much more apparent. It takes you an extra second to break eye contact with them, but when you do finally manage to drag your gaze up to meet his, you realize his face is just as nice of a view: honey-tan skin, full lips, and cute dimples that pop as he gives a sheepish, appreciative laugh.

“Thank you,” he says, a little breathless; his voice is deep and slightly husky in a way that makes your face grow hot. You blink stupidly at him for a few moments, your mind reeling, and then it occurs to you that you still have his dog’s leash in your hand.

“No problem,” you manage, handing the looped end back over and double-checking to make sure your ankles are still free from their entanglement. Though now that this man is holding the leash, you kind of wish they weren’t.

“Moni’s usually good about not taking off when I stop to do a circuit,” he explains, like you’re the dog owner police. It makes you wonder what kind of Karens must have moved into this neighborhood since you left it. “I don’t know why he ran, maybe he saw a squirrel or something.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with a smile, admiring Moni as he stretches and settles into a polite seated pose. “I like his sweater.”

“Thanks,” he laughs again. “C’mon Mon.”

You can’t help focusing on how big this guy’s hands are as he slips his fingers through the end of Moni’s leash, tugging slightly as if to encourage the dog back in the direction he came from.

Moni blinks and stays right where he is.

“You little shit,” his owner huffs under his breath, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from laughing. You distantly realize you should probably leave them to it and continue on your walk, but this is too entertaining to turn away from now. Your hot neighbor tries one more futile attempt to get Moni to move, then seems to give up entirely.

He stoops down with a low grunt of effort that makes your core flutter as he grabs the fluffy dog and hoists him up in his arms. You try to force yourself to stop noticing the way his biceps flex, the fact that the muscles of his arms are nearly bigger than your head.

“Thanks again,” he says with a final grateful smile, and your only response is to swallow hard and stand there like an idiot as he turns and carries his spoiled dog back home.

When you arrive for your interview, you’re delighted to discover that Indigo Coffee is nothing like your last job. It’s warm and bright, with large picture windows that flood the space in sunlight, and there’s a cozy personal touch to it, the likes of which you’d certainly never see in your former corporate shell of a workplace. The sitting area is dotted with live edge wood tables and mismatched chairs. There are an array of framed paintings on the walls that look handmade in a good way, simple yet bold brush-stroke lines in a deep blue color scheme. And, you realize as your eyes linger, the shop is absolutely overflowing with plants: in simple clay pots lined up along the windows, free-standing between tables, and tucked into bookshelves placed artfully throughout the space.

You step closer to inspect one as you wait on your interviewer and are pleased to see that it’s real, that they all are— no waxy fake leaves jammed into a thick block of cement, but real greenery sprouted in real dirt, deep brown soil gone soft from what must have been a recent watering. These are plants someone cares for, coaxed and kept alive by someone’s time and patience and love. The thought makes you smile a little despite yourself.

There’s still fucking Christmas music playing, but you figure that’s inescapable this time of year.

“Are you here for the interview?” someone asks over your shoulder. As you turn away from the plant, you wonder if you’re imagining that the voice in question sounds slightly familiar, and then you find yourself once again staring up at a fine-ass man with white-blonde hair and a sweet pair of dimples.

He’s clearly showered since your last encounter, and is now slightly more covered up in a pair of faded jeans and a gray-green flannel thrown over a black shirt emblazoned with bold white lettering: Protect Trans Kids.

“Oh.” Moni’s owner blinks back at you, and the shock on his face is so apparent that a giggle escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Uh, hi again.”

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts collab #a hyung holiday

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