#hate having to do multiple tags for the same thing because there's more than one name for it

[black-and-yellow]

Hospital.

[galacticlamps]

'to thine own self be true (and thou canst not then be false to any man)' Polonius tells his son Laertes in Act 1 - and it's so trite a saying that we quote it on everything from greeting cards to jewelry and almost laugh to stumble upon it in its original context

and then Laertes goes and spends the rest of the play - and let's face it, what little of it came before that as well - playing the foil to its tragic hero until it kills them both in Act 5 (and through the means of his own deception too)

[bitchlessdino]

Good Roommates Don't (m)

for @ddeonghwa-s secret cupid collab i recieved you @haologram! Secret Cupid Masterlist found here!

Pairing: roommate! Minghao x barista!afab!reader Word count: 14.1k rating: R Summary: Xu Minghao had been the most ethereal being you've ever laid your eyes on to the point being unable of functioning like a normal person, but now you're roommates. Only time will tell when you lose your mind keeping your hands to yourself, so there needed to be a list of things you don't do if you wanted to be a good roommate. tags: meet-ugly, strangers to roommates to lovers, college au, barista au, down bad!reader, mentions of band, brief bdsm, mc fell first he fell harder, cum swapping, spitting, oral (giving and receiving), face riding, unprotected sex author note: thank you @lovetaroandtaemin and @gyubakeries beta-reading this with me. after writing towtsyfdtotbycf (holy shit) i was in a little bit of a slump and had several and i mean SEVERAL versions of this and for months racked my brain how i wanted to do this. Alta, i care for you deeply and we've gotten close in the last year or so, so i really wanted to write something that would amuse you and that you'd enjoy. and if you hate it you can use it as leverage to berate me on discord lol. but please, my valentine, enjoy my gift to you. happy Valentines day Alta (and tell me was i really not that slick) <3

When you first met Minghao, you almost killed him trying to save his life. At least, that's what you thought you were doing.

All you had to do was bear a normal shift at the Coffee Shop, attempt a semblance of a smile for the oncoming customers, and clock out at your normal hour, but the universe couldn’t even give you that. Instead, they sent you the hottest guy imaginable, along with the swiftness of a gazelle, the strength of a gorilla, and the intuition of a garden gnome. That day just confirmed that some things were better left alone.

A few things were already going wrong that day. For one, your alarm didn't go off. The alarm being your mom, who usually kicked you out of bed first thing at 9 am, since she had a doctor’s appointment. Fair enough. The strings of fate got you there. All the more reason why moving out seemed like a distant dream rather than a close reality. Were you really capable of being a functioning adult? 

Then there was the bus and having to shell out twenty bucks for a Lyft when the next scheduled bus was reported to have broken down and was no longer an option. That twenty bucks could’ve been your meal for the next week, but no, being fiscally responsible was a circus act, and you were the clown being pied in the face repeatedly. As if you weren’t already putting on a face and juggling multiple things enough on a daily basis, today was no different. 

And then, you were late to work—which again, was nothing new—but you were hoping that Nayeon, who was scheduled as the shift manager, let you off with a warning. Yet, somehow, that went wrong as well, seeing that the shittier manager on your shift, Manager Fi, was present instead. And, by the look in the old man's eyes, he wasn’t happy about it either, especially considering he assigned you bathroom duty for the end of your shift to make up for your tardiness. He never liked you since you started. Then again, he didn’t like anybody, and vice versa.

This morning was bad omen after bad omen.

Leading up to finally meeting Minghao—tall, scorchingly hot Minghao, with lips that looked soft as clouds. You hadn’t seen him around before until today, and perhaps it should’ve stayed that way, because you couldn’t see yourself facing him ever again.

He walked in with his large group of friends, all almost nearly as charming as him with a handful of faces that you’ve seen once or twice, but none that stood quite out like his. He had the kind of face that made you want to paint murals, write ballads, or stare long enough to linger too long over the same spot you were cleaning on the counter, windshield wiping until the wet streaks you wiped off devolved to discoloration and damaged the countertop’s cheap sealant. Eventually, you averted your gaze to conceal your flushed cheeks—turning away in clear embarrassment, thinking about how much of a fucking creep you probably looked overtly gawking at him—but you’d soon realized that was the least of your worries. You’d soon wish it ended with you looking like a creep.

The next moment you lifted your eyes towards him again, you found him in a compromising position, one that had you thinking—and that was your first mistake. His face twisted with discomfort, and he gasped as he covered his mouth. A million thoughts raced through your mind, considering all the possible reasons for his distress, and one screamed the loudest above all, setting off alarm bells. So you—being meddling and troublesome you—acted on instinct.

Hopping over the counter, you raced towards him, pulled him off the booth which he was luckily on the edge of, and immediately attempted the Heimlich. Finally, your CPR certification could be put to use. You embraced him from behind, putting pressure on his ribcage as you launched and thrust yourself against him, forcing whatever was lodged in his throat out of his body.

“I’ve got you!” you exclaimed heroically.

You put in as much strength as you could muster, truly hoping to save a life today, thinking out of all things that have gone wrong today, at least this would be one thing you’ve done right. You could feel your ancestors looking down on you to witness a proud moment in your otherwise boring and mundane life. 

After several rough collisions with his body, he eventually spat something chewed up and unsightly onto the booth’s table, drawing the attention of several onlookers if your boisterous shouting hadn’t already. His friends were quick to look away, wincing in disgust while the cute boy doubled over in pain, holding himself by the ribs as you ran your eyes over at him in concern.

“Are you alright, sir? That must’ve been terrifying to suffocate on something so suddenly.”

He then finally lifted his head. His cheeks were flushed as anguish took over his features. “I wasn’t choking,” He rasped.

“...Come again?”

“Oh my god!” A third-party witness stood up dramatically from their seat. “This barista just saved this young man’s life!”

Suddenly, you were punished with attention, cheers specifically. All except the people who sat at the cute boy’s table clapped for you—or, rather at you now—and gave you standing ovations for your grand heroic act, when in fact, it wasn’t heroic at all. Meanwhile, you attempted to settle them down, flapping your hands dismissively and growing hot all over. You looked over the man you so-called saved as he strained to sit back in his seat, being tended by the friends he came with.

“Dude, you okay?”

“Shit, that looked like it hurt.”

“You probably shouldn't have been drinking it that fast, Minghao.”

It turned out you had severely miscalculated the situation. What appeared to be choking, prompting you to improperly administer a rough but appropriate Heimlich maneuver, was simply a mildly exaggerated reaction to hot coffee followed by a muffin to alleviate his burnt taste buds. You, of course, profusely apologized, as if you weren’t embarrassed enough for staring at him the whole time working your entire shift at the coffee shop because he was the most breathtakingly stunning person you’ve ever seen in your life. You might’ve just about broken his ribs and made his life flash before his eyes by abruptly slamming your body against him repeatedly, and not in the fun way.

Rather than an apartment, you were in desperate need of a hole deep enough to lead you to the core of the Earth to hide you from everyone else on the crust, ideally with cheap rent and good air ventilation. 

You bowed your head in humiliation, unable to meet any of their eyes, especially with the possibility of them remembering your face with a lawsuit waiting to happen. “I can’t believe that happened, I am so sorry. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, please let me know.”

“It’s okay, really, but I think we’ve had enough excitement for today if you don’t mind.” 

The attractive stranger—or Minghao, as you’ve learned from his friends who immediately rushed to him in concern—shook his hand in the air reassuringly. “Just, no more of that, alright? Make sure someone’s actually choking before trying to save them.”

“Right, please have a wonderful rest of your day,” you said, before returning to your station and disappearing behind the breakroom, screaming into your cubby and avoiding human interaction for as long as you could.

That scene replayed in your mind over and over like a recurring nightmare, burning the image of his beautiful face with such disdain for all eternity, while his name etched into your brain in permanent ink, embedded in every wrinkle in your brain. Minghao. A devastatingly beautiful name for a devastatingly beautiful owner.

Ugh. Get a fucking grip.

You just needed to get through the rest of the day. It would just be a couple more hours until your shift ended, and then you’d leave on the dot. It’d be just in time to make your appointment to meet your new potential roommate. Hopefully, it would be the silver lining of today’s catastrophic mess.

You met on electronic class forums while attending the same Cultural Studies course and somehow ended up relying on each other for notes. By your chat history, you seemed to have a lot in common—with the exception of his preference for tea over artisanal coffee—and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t get giddy seeing the green circle next to his username. Recently, he had just talked about moving into town after pondering the idea for so long, and as fate may have it, you’ve been looking for your own place to stay. You figured he seemed nice enough, and he even offered a reasonable quote on rent. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look. You just hoped he was as friendly in real life as he was online—with the day you had, you needed a win.

And, that win started with Chinese food, his choice, and it was a good one. You hadn’t been at this location before, taking note of the old-fashioned aesthetic touched by the harshness of modern neon signs that lit even the darkest of hallways. You were now thinking you ought to come more often as the heavenly notes of soy, ginger, and whatever concoction bled through the kitchen curtains and wafted through your nostrils the moment you passed through the double doors. Immediately, you were greeted by the host, visibly tired and overworked, with dark circles under his eyes, before he led you to a table in the center of the restaurant. You settled your nerves with a glass of water, trying to let the horrific events from today fade to as black as the soy sauce loitering on your table, waiting for a plate of dumplings to accompany them.

Funny how you could still have an appetite after everything that happened.

It wasn’t too long after you heard the same doors you walked through open, setting off the familiar sound of its wind chimes. You peered behind you, catching a glimpse of the new arrival, and immediately spun back in your seat, startled by the face that passed through your eyes. Trepidation brewed within you as the unsolicited visitor had your stomach in knots. 

You couldn’t take another incident tonight. 

You slunk into your seat, burying your chin in your shirt, hoping you’d somehow camouflage into your seat, facing away from the new arrival. Meanwhile, his eyes skimmed the room, walking in with purpose without guidance and greeting the employees as if he were right at home. Fortunately, he had yet to notice your presence as you slinked out of view the moment he passed by you to sit at the bar, while you made way into a booth in the dark corner of the restaurant, cursing the fates for their cruel games once again. You just had hoped that your new roommate would hurry it up already so you could get out of here before you were discovered.

And after about ten minutes, it felt as if all hope was lost. There was no sign of them and you were wondering if you had been stood up. Amid your anticipation, you were forced to pay attention to the person you were avoiding, seeing his patience wear thin with the tap of his foot as he sipped the last of his iced tea. Not a moment too soon, you saw him pluck his phone out from his pocket, fingers skittering over the screen before bringing it to his ear and scanning the restaurant’s floor plan. In the same instant, your phone went off,  blaring your cursed ringtone, ‘Pocketful of Sunshine’, and the realization—along with the panic—quickly set in. 

Alerted by the noise, his head whipped up from his screen. His eyebrows rose in shock, not all expecting the outcome that arose, and he dropped to his feet and quickly darted toward the sound that you—for the life of you—could not turn off fast enough. His footsteps matched the rate of your heart pounding in your chest, growing louder and closer until he found the source and located you cowering in the corner.

You lifted your head to lock eyes for the first time since this morning just as you finally managed to silence the ringtone and gave him an awkward laugh, waving with your phone in hand. Taking a nervous gulp, you awaited his disappointment, expecting him to make his quick exit after evaluating in the two seconds of your meeting that this arrangement would not work out because you were a deranged psycho with a savior complex. To your pleasant surprise, that didn't happen. Instead, you were met with a gentle smile and a glint of curiosity in his eyes. “There you are.”

You forced a sheepish chuckle. “Here I am, ha.”

Minghao softly chuckled before tucking his phone in his back pocket. “And to think just this morning you ‘saved my life.’”

You shut your eyes tightly, hands pressing together as if begging for forgiveness. “Again I am so, so sorry for that. It did look like you were choking.”

He shook his head reassuringly. “So you’ve said. I’m Minghao, or PalE8. Nice to meet you, CafeMixr0.”

“Is it…nice to meet me?” You asked dubiously.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

You blinked incredulously. “Well, for several reasons.”

He shrugged before entering the booth and leaving a healthy distance to sit just across from you. “Can’t think of any. Have you ordered anything yet?”

You shook your head, befuddled by his nonchalance, waiting to see the catch, if there was any.

“Good thing I know everything worth ordering.” His hand shot up before grabbing the attention of a server to get his order taken.

You weren't sure where the night was going. All you knew was the boy that you almost killed this morning was sitting across from you looking as breathtaking as he did this morning, even while slurping up his stir fry that was glossed with a sheen of chilli oil and swelling up his already full lips. Rather than a roommate meetup—if that was still the case—it felt like a date, a date you were exceedingly ill-prepared for.

Suddenly, you could feel the sweat on the back of your knees, feeling the strong urge to sniff the clothes on your back, unsure when the last time you did a fresh load of laundry and if your current attire was included in that load at all. Not to mention that bathroom duty that was forced upon you, which no doubt seeped into your clothes. You were better off naked, but then that would be an entire different kind of meeting, wouldn’t it?

“You’re okay, right?” You asked, trying to distract yourself from your spiraling thoughts as you barely finished your portion of chow mein—which was absolutely heavenly, to put it lightly.

He let out a light chuckle before kindly reassuring you. “How many times are you going to ask me? You and everyone from this morning. I’m fine, able-bodied and everything.” 

“I just felt really bad. You looked really hurt.”

He couldn’t suppress his grin, finding your cautiousness amusing, but it only added to your unease. “I was hurt. You’re really, really strong.”

You winced. “Again. I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s a quality of a good roommate.” He finished the last bit of his meal before dropping a couple of bills without asking for the tab. “Come on. I’ve got to show you the apartment.”

You raised an eyebrow while sipping your warm tea before tapping your mouth with a napkin. “You still want to room with me? After this morning?”

“There’s not a lot of good options for roommates in the city, and what are the odds that you’ll try to kill me twice?”

He had a fair point, and it wasn’t like you had options lining up either. You just had to hope he didn’t regret taking this chance on you.

A big reason why you wanted to move out was to learn to be on your own, but in addition to that, the city had pretty much everything to offer. The city had it all, from job opportunities to the right people to meet, and the apartment Minghao led you to was the center of the entirety of it. High above the town square, in a room several floors up, there was a nook that had a view through a large window overlooking everything within about a two-mile radius. If there was anything nice to say about the city, it definitely looked better from where you were standing. The street lights illuminated streets, neon signs brought the local businesses to life, and people that ran the night life lived it to the fullest in the flashiest clothes imaginable. You had never seen your city like this before.

Meanwhile, the apartment itself was gorgeous and already fully furnished with stylish furniture and greenery that touched the kitchen and living room. It was graced with Minghao’s taste in art and an eccentric—but tasteful—color palette of warm browns, olive greens, and rustic oranges. It felt like walking into Minghao’s mind, seeing into his world, and you were given the opportunity of it being yours, being part of his world. He was generous enough to even let you pass through the front door.

“So?” he asked, gauging your interest, watching as you looked down at the city from the large window nook in awe.

You softly scoffed, unable to take your eyes off the beautiful view calling to you like a siren at sea.  “Um, I’m sorry, you had trouble finding a roommate, how?”

He crossed his arms, admiring the sight with you, glancing at you through his peripheral vision and grinning when he saw the childlike sparkle in your eyes. “I’m new to the city, and everyone I know here has their own living arrangements. I didn’t want to go too far in looking for a new roommate. I thought we'd work well together, since we’re based in the same city now and have a lot in common based on our conversations.”

“I almost killed you this morning,” You’ve pointed out to…death.

“Although you’re…impulsive and unpredictable, I’ve seen worse. I think I’ll manage.” He splayed his hand in front of you, gesturing for a shake to officially seal the deal. “What do you say? Do you still want to be roommates?”

Everything about this screamed it was a bad idea. Putting aside the fact that you nearly killed the man, you could barely stand in the presence of him without your mind drifting to dark waters. It didn’t take rocket science to understand that putting you in that same living quarters with Minghao meant you might have to live every day together with your hands tied behind your back and thighs taped shut. You’ve surprised yourself with how you’ve managed to keep your composure sharing the same air—the air you were even thinking of savoring as you contemplated this offer.

You were down-righteously-bad. You weren’t a fit roommate for Minghao in the slightest.

Yet, you took his hand, letting his cool palm clash with your warmth as his digits wrapped around you in a tight squeeze before shaking. “Let’s do it.”

And that marked the start of a new chapter of your life, unraveling the challenge of being Xu Minghao’s roommate. Only, he wasn’t the challenge. He was a breath of fresh autumn air. He was kind beyond words and accommodating in every step of your move. You were already familiar with his gentle and patient nature, as he had frequently taken the time to clarify complex ideas for class, and you’ve learned about the majority of his interests prior from your online discussions, but seeing PalE8’s traits in person—embodied in Minghao—was bizarre. You realized he was still a stranger after all. A stranger that claimed your breath with a single bat of his eyes and turned your stomach inside out worse than a bad case of food poisoning, no less.

Meanwhile, the neighbors knew him by name, were endeared by his presence, and found him to be a delightful conversationalist as well as a helping hand when the situation called for it. He was better than your friendly neighborhood spiderman. He was your kind, considerate, intricately woven, beautifully complex, and knees-bucklingly handsome Minghao. 

You weren’t usually a sexual deviant, at least not to this extent, but Minghao brought something out of you that you hadn’t felt for another person. However, if you were going to live together, that had to change. This crush was going to have to dwindle out of existence if you wanted to live together—emphasis on you—in peace.

So, that’s when you decided to make a list of rules that only you had to follow. Sure, you were an adult, and the thought of giving yourself rules to keep your hands to yourself was juvenile and stupid, but for the sake of your sanity, you were looking for anything that might work. That’s when you decided to make a list of things “good roommates don’t do”, thinking it would be shorter and easier to sum up than a long redundant list of things good roommates would do, and the first thing to top the list was easy.

Good roommates don’t almost kill each other (again).

That seemed easy enough to remember, considering the first time was traumatic enough, and fortunately, it didn’t take too much effort, considering you hardly saw each other despite living together. 

You ended up taking up more shifts at work, desperate enough to even join the catering team, to keep yourself busy and afford the new expense of rent, sacrificing a lot more of your free time. Meanwhile, Minghao’s work schedule was not only demanding, it was inconsistent. Working at a popular art gallery as an artist and attendant with frequent and erratic events to go to until late at night prompted your roommate to be seen home a lot less than expected. By the time either of you got home, there wouldn’t be so much of a hello or goodbye either, just the sounds of bodies falling on beds in either rooms as the day’s fatigue engulfed you until you succumbed to sleep.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t a little disappointed by these circumstances, but then again, perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. Seeing him as little as you did meant less opportunity for you to screw things up around him, because it seemed to happen quite frequently when he was around. The few times you did cross paths, you still found ways to humiliate yourself.

“That’s mine.”

You held the toothbrush mid-scrub, bubbles foaming at the corners of your mouth, “Eh?”

“I think you’re using my toothbrush.”

Your cheeks immediately grew warm, and you shielded your face with the back of your hand. You spat into the sink and splashed water on your face to rid yourself of toothpaste residue before turning back to respond, his words jumbling in your head and bouncing from corner to corner to process them. “I-I don’t think so, this is the one I always use.”

He snickered, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms, delectably dressed down in a gray tank top and sweatpants. The tempting taste of domesticity was sweet and permeated your tastebuds. “If that’s the case, we’ve been sharing, because I’ve always kept my brush there in the marble cup. Yours should be behind the medicine cabinet where you first left it.”

“What? You sure?” you pinned the used toothbrush on the sink’s porcelain before cracking open the medicine cabinet. “I’m pretty sure I took it—Ah!”

Startled by your findings, you dropped the toothbrush you gripped in your hand onto the floor when you’ve proven Minghao right as his toothbrush fell to the ground, now defiled with your oral bacteria and whatever was on the floor. The one day you take a shift later than usual because a member begged to take on more shifts, it blew up in your face. Seokmin, you will rue the day. “I-I’ll clean it!” You offered in a panicked tone.

He pushed himself off the threshold, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t, please. It’s dirty; I can just replace it.”

Filled with guilt, you stepped aside to watch him pick up the dirty brush before disposing of it in the waste bin, “Sorry.”

“You say that a lot.” 

He pulled a fresh toothbrush out of a drawer and ripped it out of its packaging. It was notably identical to his previous and your current abandoned toothbrush, down to the bristles. “No worries. See,” he turned the new hygiene tool for inspection, “Clean.”

“Regret having me as a roommate yet?” you joked anxiously towards his reflection in the mirror.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Nothing I can’t manage. I lived in a boarding house full of guys that shared things without asking and it didn’t stop at toothbrushes. You’re the first roommate I’ve had that’s apologized. I say that’s an upgrade.”

He went on to brush his teeth with his newly obtained brush, christening the bristles with a squeeze of fluoride toothpaste before scrubbing against his pearly whites. He never ceased to amaze you with his aloof attitude towards the situation, as if he’d become accustomed to your chaos when he didn’t need to be at all. This situation, however, did indicate that you had another thing to be added to the list.

Good roommates don’t use each other’s toothbrush (even by accident)

In your room just before you left for work, you haphazardly added to the list you put on a crumpled piece of paper you kept in your wallet, ensuring you held your list close before setting the pen aside. Your heart pounded against your chest, thinking what that had meant all this time. How you’ve pretty much swapped saliva nearly every day with Minghao since moving in. The fact that it had gone on for so long repulsed you, but not anymore than the tiny part of yourself that maybe had always known and continued to do it. 

You held your digits to your lips, brushing the pads against the slit of your mouth, ragged breaths slowly leaving your lungs as you reached your enamel. Tension pooled in your stomach as the images that infiltrated your dreams were currently being conjured in your consciousness, while arousal chased down your legs as you clenched them together. Jolted back to reality, you wound your eyes shut, remembering how little he cared about the matter, how nonchalant he was when he found out. Meanwhile, here you were: perverse, losing your mind, and letting your imagination run wild like a hormonal teenager with her celebrity crush. 

Fuck. You needed a night out. You had been cooped up in the apartment for too goddamn long. The only other place you went was work, and knowing labor laws, they had to give you a night or two off for all the time you’d been putting in. There was a whole outside world, and you needed to buck up and take advantage of it. You had to do something other than fawn over your very hot roommate. Losing some spare change was worth the sanity. At least, you hoped it was.

“You going out tonight?”

Hearing a familiar tenor voice, your head lifted up from fixing the strap of your shoes to see him remove his coat and store it away in the front entrance closet. “Oh, you’re home,” you stated.

“Yeah. The gallery is closed tonight for a bigger show this weekend, so I have a couple days where I’m off earlier than usual.”

More time for Minghao to be at home. Great. 

You nodded, keeping your cool at the sight of his turtleneck hugging his lean and toned frame, making your heart work overtime in place of you this evening. “I see, but yeah. A couple of my friends and I are trying out that new place that just opened up in midtown.”

“Oh, let me know how that goes. Me and some friends had plans to go there too.”

“Okay.” You hurried your way to the door. “Don’t wait up.”

“Wait.”

Hand on the door knob, you cursed under your breath, squeezing your eyes shut as if bracing for impact before opening them, and turned around with an innocuous expression. “Yes?”

He held out his hand. “Your phone please.”

“Hmm? Why,” you asked, unlocking it before complying.

He smiled accepting it, before swiping his fingers off the screen. “I’m sending myself your location.”

And there your heart when pitter-patter again at thoughtful and kind hot as fuck Minghao. “I just told you where I’d be.”

“That could always change. Here,” he said, handing your phone back, beaming back at you warmly. “Just in case something happens, and you can always call me if you feel unsafe, okay?”

You gave a soft pout, cheeks growing warm at the thought of Minghao’s concern over you. It pleased you more than it should’ve. “Thanks. What are you gonna do tonight?”

He shrugged, taking a quick glance over his shoulder. “Maybe do some light reading and tea, paint if inspiration hits me.”

You gave a small grin, thinking just how Minghao those activities sound. “Sounds enlightening. Okay. I’ll be home soon.”

“Be safe.”

Even long after you’d left, you kept thinking about that interaction. How domestic it felt, how safe it made you feel, how seen you really were. It made you wonder if he was tracking you right now, looking at his phone, staring at the dot indicating where you were located. You wondered if he was thinking about you right now, because you were most certainly thinking about him.

Your mission of trying to forget Minghao by going out definitely was not working, but you took that as a sign to keep drinking. Your friends didn’t get to see you often with how much you worked, so they were just happy to see you were having a good time, not knowing you were trying to drown out the consuming thoughts of a certain man with a peculiar color scheme. 

They wouldn’t have known the way you let yourself get felt up by a stranger near the dance floor, standing so close you could smell the knock off cologne he was practically bathing in as his breath hung in the air against your neck. When it went nowhere, he eventually left, looking for prospects elsewhere, while you stuck to your mission, seeing it work at some point at night. Until it didn’t, but you didn’t remember because eventually it’d all fade to black.

Your eyes ripped open, waking up with the biggest headache, blinded by the natural rays of light bleeding through blinds—only your room didn’t have blinds. You specifically made sure to have blackout curtains because you couldn’t stand waking up to the sun, and that hasn’t ever changed. Grumbling irritatingly along the lines about who turned on the lights, you flipped on the other side of the bed with a half awoken daze, your blurry vision making out a lumpy figure underneath the covers.

You drew closer in confusion, trying to make sense of what you were seeing before taking in the fact the lump had a face as blinding as the sun you turned away from, startling you upon recognition. Your eyes shot open, wide awake now, and you nearly stumbled out of the mattress before his arms grabbed you, latching on you before you could fall off and safely secured you in his tucked embrace. 

“It’s a bit early for your charming antics, isn’t it?” Minghao chucked with closed eyes.

You blinked back at him, licking your lips anxiously. “How am I here right now?”

His eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the light. “You mean alive or in bed with me?”

Your cheeks grew hot. “B-both.”

“I wish I had an answer for the first question, but it seems your creator had more plans for you. As for your second concern, you seemed confused and tired, and I assumed you confused this bed for yours.”

“You should’ve kicked me out.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, rubbing his hands over your shoulders and sending a chill down your spine. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

You let out a soft sigh, ridden with guilt. “I’d deserve it. I must’ve been annoying to deal with.”

He knitted his brows together, the corner of his lips softly turning down. “You really don’t like yourself.”

“No—well, maybe not lately. Maybe I’m just coming to the realization I’m not a good roommate.”

“No one is good at anything their first time.”

“You’re not denying it!”

“You’re a fine roommate.” Patting you on the back, he threw off the covers and pushed himself out of bed, leaving his room to trod toward the kitchen. You followed after curiously, like a duckling that imprinted on its mother, watching as he pulled out ingredients from the fridge’s shelves. “Anything you’re allergic to?” He asked over his shoulder.

“Nothing comes to mind.” You answered hesitantly.

“Good. The recipe is fairly easy anyway, it shouldn’t kill you.”

Your eyes widened and you quickly stood by his side as he set all the items down, he followed with gathering bowls and cookware. “You’re cooking for me?”

“Mmh-hmm.”

“You don’t have to.”

He turned his head slightly. “You have a headache, don’t you?”

“Yes but—”

“It’s just egg drop soup.” He patted your shoulder nodding his head over at the counter stool either of you would often have breakfast. “Sit. It’ll be done in a few minutes.”

You sat patiently by the counter, watching him chop and throw ingredients into a small pot, which filled your shared residence with a savory aroma. As soon as he was done, he presented the dish in front of you, garnishing it with fresh chopped scallions and parsley. He picked up a serving with a soup spoon and gently blew on the top before taking a quick sample and grinning at the result. Scooping with the same spoon, he held a serving towards you with proud eyes.

“Try it,” he urged.

As you accepted the offering, you tried not to think about how you were about to share yet another household item that would enter both your mouths and let the simple flavors fan out on your tongue, the warmth of soup dispersing throughout your body. You hummed in delight, already feeling it work its magic. “It’s delicious,” you said softly.

He grinned. “Feel better.”

“Thanks, Minghao.”

“No problem at all.” 

As you enjoyed your thoughtful breakfast, your roommate cleaned up his mess. He wiped down whatever residue was left behind before heading to his room and coming out properly dressed in brown slacks and muted green patterned sweater when you were just about done eating. “Heading to work now.”

“You had work?” You asked surprised, “Why did you waste time cooking? You could have left already.”

He softly scoffed heading to the door. “I spent—what, five or ten minutes? It’s fine. See you later.”

In the last 24 hours, Minghao managed to make sure you were safe by tracking your location, gave you a good night's rest by not disrupting your sleep, and made you breakfast right before work. Then there’s you, black out drunk with almost no memory of last night (probably good you didn’t), annoying your overly nice and overly hot roommate, hogging a bed that isn’t yours, and eating a home cooked meal that probably set back his schedule. You were the worst. All the more reason for a new addition to the list.

Good roommates don't sleep in their other roommate’s bed piss drunk (again)

It seemed that this list of “don’ts” was getting longer, probably because you’re an awful roommate, and if there was a reward, yours would already be at the front door. You really, really had to make an effort to do something about this arrangement. Now that some time had passed and these interactions were becoming more frequent, avoiding him seemed to be out of question unless you wanted to give him the wrong impression. You would just have to become a better roommate, and that started with making up for this morning.

In the following months together, to atone for the bed incident and good deeds that followed suit, you shared the occasional breakfast if you had time (that is if you didn’t burn anything), even sometimes grabbing dinner or a late meal in the small gap before or after work. While in the late hours, when both of you should’ve been sleeping, you’d have a cup of your favorite beverages. He’d have his brew of tea for the night while you’d have a mug of coffee, awake under the stars and basking in the night, watching from the nook that you both grew fond of that was in the direction of the moon when it’s at its peak.

Of all people to share these moments with, you couldn’t imagine it with anyone else but Minghao. He was the peace amongst the chaos, the quiet you came home to after dealing with the noisy world that helped you heal like nothing else. You liked that about him, and now you were liking him too much, to the point you thought of him every day. What it’d be like for him to hold you in his arms, letting his warmth envelop your entire being the way his voice naturally does with a simple “it’s okay.” 

You’d imagine how he’d look at you, how lovers do when they ache for one another so desperately they could feel it down to every atom. You’d thought of the words he’d say to you, the words he’d say to someone he’s madly, irrevocably besotted with, and every letter and word and sentence would be spoken poetry. He’d feel like love. You didn’t think it was possible for you to grow more attracted to him, but learning all these wonderful things he does and seeing up close and personal how beautiful inside and out he was, you were developing feelings and growing all these desires that you were ashamed to admit out loud.

And with that, you pulled out your list and a pen, jotting in a new item.

Good roommates don’t live in every waking moment staring at them or thinking about wanting to kiss them (no matter how hard it is)

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve already broken that rule, but the least you could do was hold yourself accountable.

However, writing the rule didn't prevent future instances. Not from fantasizing, not from wet dreams, not from imagining a life together where you rid all your inhibitions and clothes and succumb to drowning in each other. Unlike every other rule that you’ve managed to avoid, this one was the outlier, flipping your world on its head and preoccupying every second of your thoughts with all things Xu Minghao. And what sucked was you were so guilt ridden, you couldn't even let yourself enjoy it. 

This was your roommate for crying out loud. Your wholesome, nice, forgiving, and tolerant roommate that went beyond what was necessary to make you feel at home and comfortable. Only time will tell when he’ll see through you and finally kick you to the curb.

“Let’s go out.”

Your head lifted up from your phone with eyes large as saucers. “What?”

“We haven't really done anything together,” he suggested, cleaning up the dishes of the dinner you both had just had.

It was one of the few nights that you were both free. The coffee shop had more than enough staff, and you’ve exhausted the hours put in, while the art gallery was planning a grand exhibition, so they needed all hands on deck for the mornings for a few weeks, but evenings would be free until the week of. That left you two a lot more free time than you knew what to do with.

“We see each other all the time,” you pointed out.

“At home. We don’t hang outside the apartment aside from that one dinner the first day we met, so let’s go out.”

You blinked, watching him grab his coat before you could argue as he waved you over, his smile luring you closer and putting you under his spell without you realizing until it was too late. “Uh, where? It’s 9PM.”

“Anywhere.”

For someone who had only arrived in town a couple months ago, Minghao knew a lot of the good spots in the city.  If it wasn’t food, it was book stores. If it wasn’t book stores, it was tea shops. He had a clear plan of the city, and without so much looking at a GPS, he could find his way around better than any native. And considering all the people he came with that day you met the coffee shop and all the staff at the Chinese restaurant, his index didn’t stop at places. He seemed more familiar with the people in your hometown than you were. Between you two, he looked like the real local.

Walking alongside your roommate, you turned to him curiously, “How do you know the city so well when you’ve moved in somewhat recently?”

He gave a soft smile looking into the distance, as if the gust of wind that passed through you both hit him with a wave of nostalgia. “I’ve been visiting for about four years. I only had the guts to become a resident recently.”

“Why’d it take you so long?”

“Student visa processes, paper work, all those things. Also, this city is great, and everyone I've met and have become close with is amazing, but home is just home. It’s all I’ve ever known.” He let out a deep sigh, taking in a deep breath before stretching out his arms and let fall back to his sides, turning slightly to you. “This country and town has become a second, though, some things even my home can’t beat.”

You mused at that, intrigued that he could find something appealing in here, then again you've been here all your life, yet Minghao showed you more you could ever imagine of it. “Like what?”

He simply smiled as their feet stopped at their final destination, a location they both aimlessly walked towards just a little off the center of the town. “I’ll tell you, as soon as we try this place out.” 

Just off the center of town was a bar you had never heard of with a theme you’d never thought to put together on your own and definitely a place you’d never think to walk into with your roommate you were trying to keep platonic feelings for.

“Hey sexy babies, welcome to the Love in Leather BDSM Bar, where all your sexy dreams can come true.”

Oh, my god.

You were petrified. Every wall was decorated with leather or latex, either on display in a box, on a vulgarly displayed mannequin, or on an employee that was dressed in next to nothing, leaving no room for imagination. You weren’t shy about the theme of BDSM—there was always a small part of you curious about it—but it’s not like you’ve talked extensively about it with Minghao. The same person you were trying really hard not to think about sleeping with, which was especially hard in a place that served ‘cum shots’ and with their special for tonight being ‘buttery nipples.’

Glancing back at your roommate to get his reaction, he seemed to be just as startled with his findings as you were, but perhaps not as terrified as he should be, taking you by the wrist and weaving through the crowd with a marveled expression. You were grateful for the loud music playing the explicit versions of songs you wouldn’t otherwise hear on the radio, drowning out the sound of your heavy breathing and the loud thrum of your heart. You just had hoped he couldn’t feel your pulse under his fingertips, unable to untangle from his grasp as you felt the heat of his touch spread out through your whole body. You were trapped in a web you didn’t want to leave and that was the hardest kind to be in.

Suddenly, lights poured on the center stage of the bar. The music then slowed down, transitioning to another song, and a scantily leather clad woman entered that would erupt cheers of all clients seated in the chairs in front of her, to which she sent an air kiss and wink. Following the crowd, both you and Minghao decided to cheer along with them, your sounds of encouragement drowned out in the more enthusiastic and obscenely creative audience members of the establishment. Walking across the stage, she made a show of it, caressing her body in ways that would have a man on his knees howling at the moon (which you swore you heard once or twice in there) as money was thrown strewn stage like confetti, enough to pay for a few nice dinners uptown. After garnering the excitement, she descended down the steps of the stage, walking into her live audience. Her eyes skimmed through the endless crowds of people, landing on and picking one lucky front row member—a young, spry man no older than twenty-five—and brought him on stage, ensuing roars and applause, indicating the start of the real show.

What happened next was something you did not want to get into detail, but in layman’s terms, that audience member was having the time of his life with the use of a flog while everyone watched. You could only make the distinction of excruciating pain and pleasurable pain by the very loud affirmations coming out of his mouth and bouncing off the board he face planted on, and the words that passed through one of your ears and never wanted to come out the other. You were slack jawed from the scene, not at all expecting this scene today, and holy shit, you could not feel more suffocated knowing Minghao was witnessing all of this beside you. 

He stared back at the scene, expression unreadable, but he seemed interested and unable to look away like it was an oncoming train wreck, looking as if he was stuck on the tracks and was making sense of what he was seeing. Suddenly, his eyes locked with yours and you watched as they softened with a glint of something behind them before you swiveled your head, feeling yourself burn from your face to your ears, clenching your free hand. This felt eerily like a date, but unlike the first dinner, this felt like a real one. An immense sexually charged one. 

You were surrounded by sex at all angles, being tested to the most extreme degree. Tonight, you’ve learned dominance wasn’t particularly your thing, but if it were Minghao, perhaps you wouldn’t have minded. 

But this, this was overwhelming. As if sensing your turmoil, Minghao tugged your wrist, making you fix your gaze on him again and read the words that he mouthed from his lips. “Time to run.”

Your fingers interlocked and feet picked up speed as you headed toward the door, running aimlessly for miles out of the bar in fits of smiles and laughter. There was no plan and no destination, you both just wanted out, and you’d only stop running when you reached a bridge, both your bodies collapsing against the metal railing. You both gave out in heavy pants, your breaths mingling as you faced one another. 

“That’s crazy,” you managed to rasp. “Why did we think we could go in there?”

He gave you a tired grin back, looking in the direction from which you came. The light layer of perspiration made his shirt cling to his skin, and you get a sliver of his chest as he aired it out for comfort. “I don’t know. Try something new, but that.” He pointed where he faced. “That’s how I know so many places, I just walk inside.”

You ran your hand over your chest, baring the biggest grin. “Gosh. I feel like dying.”

“Iced coffee?” He kindly suggested.

“And tea?” You cared to offer.

Nodding back at each other, you both decided to walk the rest of the way back around, making a stop at a light night cafe and occupying their second floor balcony to taste the crisp air. As you sipped on your iced coffee and Minghao sipped on his warm tea, you quietly basked in the moonlit sky, as you’d done many times before. The adrenaline of tonight coursed through you still while you leaned against the railings and stared up at the stars, your elbows grazing close enough to spark that electricity that you’d feel whenever he ever got too close. This time, you were too tired to fight it, or you learned it’s about time you stopped trying to.

“I don’t drink coffee.” He abruptly confessed, penetrating the silence.

You softly scoffed, turning your head to him, taking his reminder as a jab for your ‘inferior’ tastes before taking a bigger sip of your delicious fresh roast press. “I know that. You prefer tea.”

“I mean, I don’t drink coffee, but the day you ‘saved me,’ I did.”

You hummed. “Oh. Yeah, you did. Funny. You got a coffee that day instead?”

He shook his head, smiling. “No, ask me why I drank coffee that day.” 

You rolled your eyes, placing your drink on the side table before leaning your elbows over the railing. “Okay. Why did you drink coffee, Minghao?”

“I drank my friend’s mug on accident, thinking it was my tea, then tasted how scaldingly hot and wretched it was—”

You gasped, offended as a barista, “I work really hard on those!”

He waved his hand to calm you down. “Let me finish. I mistook my normal tea for coffee…all because I got distracted, unable to stop thinking about the cute barista who wouldn't quit staring at me from behind the counter.”

“...I apologize for being a creep.”

He shook his head smiling and set his tea cup aside. “Not my point.”

You stared into the contents of your drink, shaking the ice inside as you stirred the straw, trying to find any remains of your beverage and stalling for time to follow up with a response. Lips pressed in a firm line, you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, silence met on the other end as he keenly observed you, mirroring your posture while he sipped his tea. “So…You thought I was cute,” you managed to sum up.

“Thought…think…know.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You timidly asked.

“We’re roommates,” he reminded you, plain as day. “We should be honest with each other, right?”

“Honest,” you repeated, lethally soft.

“Yes, honest,” he confirmed just as quietly. “Don’t be afraid to tell me whatever is on your mind, just as I’ve told you what was on my mind.”

His honesty was cute, flattering. Your honesty could write up a restraining order. “Is that necessary? We only really live together.”

“It’s necessary because we live together, so yes, be honest about your feelings. Let me in on your thoughts, whatever they may be.”

Good roommates don’t forget to be honest about each other’s feelings.

He stood in front of you dangerously close, the lingering smell of his cologne that reminded you of the ocean wafting into your nose as he drew near. His gaze beckoned you close without so much a word passing through his lips, and you felt his presence close in on the distance as he leaned against the railing. You softly batted your eyes, adjusting to your sense being overtaken by all things Minghao, mind just filled to the brim with Minghao, as if you couldn’t get enough of him.

“You’re really committed to being a good roommate. I respect that,” you stated, harshly gulping. “Honesty. Where can I start?”

“Well, what are you thinking about right now?” He asked, face mere inches away from you, lips so plush you let out a wistful sigh.

“I’m thinking that…it’s really hard to think with your face so close in front of me.”

Despite that, he didn’t move, and instead he pushed a lock of your hair behind your ear, brushing against your helix to feel your flustered warmth bloom between his fingers. “Fair enough. What else?”

You wrapped your hand around the railing, stabling yourself on the floor in hopes of not falling over on your two feet, your breath being stolen in real time by your roommate who was looking more and more inviting by the second.

“And if I knew any better, I’d think you're about to kiss me.”

“Let’s wager that then,” he said as he reeled even closer, his fingertips once in your ears now guiding your chin, letting the surface of your lips feel the ghost of his as your breaths mingled against one another. “You can predict one of two things. One, I kiss you. Or two, I pull away. You get a prize if your answer is correct.”

“How is that a fair wager? You can easily change your response depending on how I answer,” you pointed out, ultimately playing along.

“I won’t,” he reassured in a coaxingly smooth tone. “I’ve made my choice.”

You raised a brow, attempting to look only subtly intrigued when in reality you’ve let him enchant you. “What’s my prize?”

“Loser grants whatever the winner wishes.”

“That’s irresponsible.”

“Knowing you, your request would be far from unreasonable.”

“I’m talking about you.” You narrowed your eyes, swallowing at seeing him come at you so close. “But, okay. I’ll play.”

The corner of his lips lifted mischievously, tilting his head to the side as his eyes narrowed back at you. “So, what’s your answer?” 

Your eyes flickered up to him, rounded up in intrigue as you tried to follow his gaze. “You’ll…pull away. Public displays of affection are cute, but maybe not your cup of tea, at least not grand ones like kissing, unless maybe it’s one the cheek or on the forehead.”

He smiled and gently tilted his head, eyes piercing into yours and taking a sharp breath before pulling away, crossing his arms with a soft pout on his lips. “You’re good.”

You felt the sting of rejection despite your victory, as if you’d hoped you’d be wrong. That he’d take you right there against the railing and give you a fervid kiss that broke you down to your knees and you could even taste in your dreams, but a win was a win. A predicted loss was better than a false victory.

“I guess I won.”

He sighed defeatedly, crossing his arms. “You did. So tell me, what desire would you like for me to fulfill for you?”

You shuddered at his choice of words, clamping your legs together. “Well, what would you have wanted me to do if I got the answer wrong?”

“Is that your wish? For me to answer the question?”

You softly scoffed. “Don’t be so cheap.”

He rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his tea, “Doesn’t matter, you didn’t get it wrong. You get the wish. So go on, tell me your wish.”

“…Fine. Grant me your wish as if you had won.”

“You want me to grant my own wish? That defeats the entire purpose,” he chortled with knitted brows.

“It’s my wish, so come on. What’s your wish?”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“And we didn't have to place bets, but it doesn't seem like there’s any rules against it, so go ahead. Tell me.”

Minghao sucked his teeth before complying. “Fine.” 

He moved toward you, hands settling over your hips and settling you on the floor beneath your feet as he gravitated toward, steadying his gaze on you. His face, inches away from you, and your breath hitched in your throat as he drew his lips near your ear. You heard the subtle squelch of his tongue as they licked his teeth, moments before the wish he dared you to grant poured out from his lush lips. “My wish is for you to…make me tea every morning, afternoon, evening, and every time I ask you to. Like my little tea gremlin.”

“Now that’s just evil, Xu Minghao,” You protested, lightly shoving him off.

He laughed. “No, it’s not! Think of it like pour over coffee.”

“Don’t try romanticizing it like it’s anything like my beautiful beans. Tea is tea. Coffee is coffee.”

“It was your wish to grant my wish.”

“Can I take it back?” You whined.

“It’d be dishonorable.”

You groaned. “Fine.”

He chuckled, “Let’s go home, hmm?”

Heading back home, you were embraced by a warm comfortable silence. There was a kind of silence that sanctioned your amicable living arrangement with Minghao to turn into something warmer, feverish even, something that you can’t even help but notice and your hands would occasionally graze one another on the way back, taking turn exchanging timid glances at you walked your path home.

“That was fun,” You admitted, taking off your shoes at the front door.

“Yeah, I think so. We should do it more often.”

You smiled at each other’s reflections as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, seeing you take the same tube of toothpaste and started brushing your teeth. You smiled as he purposely bumped into you, raising his eyebrow as you stared pointedly at him in the mirror, not expecting you to retaliate with a light shove. Ensuing a nudging war, you attacked each other’s shoulders, getting caught in fits of giggles before you forced yourselves to split up, knowing nothing would get done if you both let it go on.

“Do you work tomorrow?” You asked through the gaping door of your room as he cleared a glass a water before bedtime, freshly out of a shower and the smell of his clean, light fragrance was beguiling even from a distance.

“Yeah. Do you?”

“Yeah.”

“Mmh.” He stalked over in your direction, a feign innocent smile on his lips. “That's too bad. We only really have nights like these together, it seems at least only for a little while.”

“It is,” You said, lathering up the last bit of lotion up your legs, feeling his eyes on you as they traveled the path of your hands.

The silence engulfed you, as if both of you were waiting for the other to make a sudden move, yet both of you remained still. Like a predator with its prey, unsure who was who, you both stood with uncertainty and palpable tension hanging in the air, waiting for the other to strike when the moment was right. Even the usually confident Minghao stood back as he observed you from a distance, eyes flickering over at you as you strided slowly towards him guarded with crossed arms.

“I guess, I’ll go to sleep now,” You finally said.

His gaze softened, nodding. “Okay,” he smiled, “good night.”

“Good night, Minghao. Sleep well.”

If only you had taken your own words to heart. 

That night, you couldn’t help but stare back at the ceiling, fiddling with the covers as the night’s events replayed in your head like a home movie, your thoughts traveling at a million miles a minute, too fast for you to stop and collect them—let alone process them—and stole your precious slumber. So, as you lay in bed awake at night, squeezing your eyes shut and waiting for the night to take you, waiting for the fatigue and sleep to come, it never arrived. Instead, your eyes ripped open, heart pounding in your chest as you sat up from the mattress and tore the covers off your body. Your legs pushed you off the bed and lifted yourself off, carrying yourself out the room and out the hallway with determined steps until faltering at the threshold of another front door before you softly knocked. 

You turned the knob, the door creaked open and you peeked your head through to see your roommate on the other end in bed, torso visibly bare as he slowly sat up at his late night intrusion. “Hey,” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “You’re up.”

“I think it’s the coffee,” you excused, clutching the edge of the door, “I can’t sleep.”

Wordlessly, he nodded, stretching an arm to beckon you towards him, and you slowly inched closer to him until you were completely under the covers. Occupying the space beside him, you nestled into the contours of his body as his arm cushioned the side of your head before facing one another, silence enveloping you. The only sound that bit into the silence was muted traffic, infinitely alive outside the walls of your confines. While it looked peaceful, and you felt as though you could melt into his arms, neither of you looked as if you were trying to sleep.

Rather, you stared at one another, making sleep even harder to attain as you traced every feature and took them in as if they were brushstrokes on a painting. Minghao may have worked with art every day, but he was a work of art in his own right, and you couldn’t help favor him above all others. You didn’t need a Van Gogh or Picasso, you had an original, a one of a kind Minghao.

And that’s when you saw his eyes begin to drift, lowering to the bottom half of your face, lips parting in intrigue as his breath fanned lightly against your cheeks. Your face flush in response, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth before they were caught, finding yourself doing the same with him and watching his mouth move in anticipation. You felt your pulse in your throat as much as you felt it between your legs, feeling arousal pooling and soaking your shorts.

“Do you want to wager another bet?” Minghao softly offered.

“What kind?” You breathed.

“The same bet, same prize. Do you think I’ll kiss you, or will I pull away?”

You mused at him, fingers extending toward him reluctantly, aiming for a lock of his hair laying stray on his forehead before smoothing it over his head, softly stroking him, feeling him lean into your touch. “Hmm, this time you’ll…kiss me,” you whispered with absolute certainty. “The tension is practically eating you alive.”

A grin stretched wide across his cheeks as a hand softly clasped over your face, thumb swiping across your cheek. “Right again.”

He closed the gap, slotting his lips between yours and languidly moving against you, letting you chase after his pace. You sighed against him, feeling his hand on your hip as he pulled your torso against his, the other rested against the nape of your neck as he reveled in your heat. Hands flying in his hair, you softly moaned as he kneaded your skin, feeling him trace the inside of your mouth with his tongue before he roughly pulled your weight from the mattress to topple you over him, letting your legs card between his.

“Minghao,” you quietly sounded against his lips, crushing your hips against his groin and hearing his sweet moan in response.

His muscles tensed as you pressed against him, while his legs clung to your thighs. His hands ran over the shape of your figure, unearthing an ungodly moan from your lips as he slipped beneath your shorts, etching over the curve of your ass and claiming your raw flesh in his hands, pushing you against him assertively.

You whimpered, grinding against him. “I know my wish.”

“Anything,” He tenderly mumbled.

“Call off work tomorrow.”

He smiled against your lips, bringing one of his knees to pin your bodies closer together. “Means you should too.”

“Oh, definitely,” You confirmed before reconnecting your mouths in a frenzied liplock.

Feeling the grind of your hips as his pelvis crushed against yours, his grunts slipped through every caress as his hand moved up your back. Soon, you started feeling something you had yet to see from Minghao in all your time living with him, the part of him you managed to evade but have envisioned a multitude of times, growing in his sweatpants and rubbing against your thigh the closer your bodies were.

“I have never wanted someone so bad,” He whispered in a soft ache. 

His hands crept underneath your shirt, brushing against your skin, pressing against the small of your back. Pressing his torso towards you, his erection adhered to your thigh, the tension coiling in your stomach burned like wildfire, at an unstoppable rage. “Minghao,” you mewled, impatience singeing on your tongue.

“Somehow, I can still taste coffee on your breath, but I don't really mind it. It tastes really good on you,” He admitted before kissing you deeper, his moans buzzing against your mouth, hungry and alive as his hands dug into your flesh with utter greed.

“You taste really good too.” Your hand body scoured south, cupping his size under your palm and tasting his gasp as you sucked him between your lips. “I wonder what else tastes good.”

“You are something else,” he mumbled, through quiet chuckles. “Just like you to act on impulse.”

You let out a light scoff. “You are so—”

“Don’t start things you can’t finish,” he softly warned with a smirk.

“I’m not the one you have to worry about finishing.”

You moved down, the covers draped over your head as you kept your eyes on him and resting on the hem of his sweats. Minghao’s breath hitched in his throat, gulping while he felt your nails lightly claw against his bare torso, tugging the waistband off the tent he forged, revealing the lack of underwear and restraint he had left, now sprung against your face.

“Shit,” you said grinning, claiming him by the shaft, thumbing over the precum glistening at the tip. “Even your cock looks pretty.”

A soft pink decorated his cheeks and a hand meekly shielded part of his face. “You staring is how I got myself hurt in the first place.”

“Then I’ll be careful not to hurt you this time—that is, unless you want me to.”

You spat on his cock, a translucent ribbon stretching from your tongue to his length. Your saliva lubing your knuckles, you squeezed his girth in your grip as you stroked and felt him pulse in your hands, growing bigger the tighter you clenched. Minghao’s arms propped himself up and behind him as his chest heaved, blood pumping with every drag of your fingers, shallow breaths slipping out of him as he fisted the sheets beneath him.

You kissed the curve of the head, lips pursed to wrap lightly around him, suckling down his shaft, and feeling him twitch against your mouth when you chuckled. He softly whined, his hand extended toward you to tenderly caress the side of your head and tacitly pleading with you as you teased him. Showing him mercy, you took him with an eager mouth, closing your lips around his cock as you steadied your gaze on him. Moans vibrating around his girth, your tongue tucked on the underside of his shaft, hands wrapped tightly around his base.

“Mmmh like that.” He swallowed, exhaling through his teeth the deeper you took him. His abdomen flexing overtly as you moaned around him, vibrated against his skin, your pink muscle tracing over his veins as you worked your jaw to hug a tighter grip. “God, you’re perfect. Don’t stop, please…” he panted.

He palmed at your hair headily, his motor skills not properly functioning as he sucked in his breath, feeling his presence explore deeper. He leveraged his hips to regain some ounce of control, but the sounds of moisture and squelching burned his ears, and the heart in his chest was running like a marathon. His eyes, fluttering in and out of focus, trained his gaze on you while his stomach tensed, grasping the vision of you getting wide-eyed and bold as you gingerly ate him alive. Burning the image into his retinas, it made him want to explode inside you.

Threading through your hair, he pulled them up and off your shoulders, showing off your pretty features, doing everything in his power not to give his climax an early appearance. “I’ve never seen such a pretty mouth take my cock so well. Then again, I’ve never had a pretty roommate like you, or anyone like you.”

Flustered from the flattery, you sucked him like your life depended on it as you grew hot, making Minghao’s task to regain control strenuous to achieve. You hollowed out your cheeks, leaving no room to breathe, and felt him in your throat as your vision rolled to behind your skull to the point your language deduced to the sounds of gagging. You gripped his hips, nails plunged into his flesh as your drool dribbled down his groin, slobbering over his cock in an erratic, hungry mess.

“Yes, like that. My god,” He praised through ragged breaths, hips jerking gently up into you. He lightly threw his head back, the urge to ram himself down your throat getting exceedingly more tempting, but he suppressed it as he dug his nails into his own palms. “I’m so close to cumming, can I–in your mouth or should I…?”

You hummed a confirmation before you swallowed him whole until you met the base, meeting his groin as he vanished inside you, breathing oxygen not even an afterthought. Images in front of you dulled in color, pictures shapeless and unclear, and you pushed past your boundaries to let him find home in your mouth, deeply intent with him finishing inside you one way or the other.

“F…f…fuck...”

Pleasure rippling through him, Minghao pushed himself up from his position, thrusting weakly as he cradled your head, pouring his thick, ivory load into your mouth, which was insistent on receiving every drop. He filled your cheeks, allowing warmth to coat the inside of your mouth as he tenderly stroked your hair in gratitude. Cupping your cheeks as he let his hips falter, he gently pulled himself out of your mouth, amused at how carefully you were trying to not let any of his cum seep past your lips as you sat between his legs.

His fingers danced under your chin. “Are you gonna swallow?” Minghao tiredly chuckled.

With smiling eyes, you tilted your head, as if asking if you should.

He pushed your hair behind you, softly pressing his lips against your tightly shut lips. “Don’t if you don’t want to.”

An idea occurred to you then, and in an instant you pushed yourself up to board him as your knees took either side of him, looming over him. His hands naturally found your waist as you lifted his chin, eyes staring at you curiously as his hands ran up body and gently clawed down, awaiting your next move. You then thumbed over his bottom lip before dipping between the slit of his mouth and saw it naturally part, taking the digit and settling it between his teeth.

Now confidently, you lowered your head, swirling the contents in your mouth before pushing your thumb deeper, prying the entrance wider, and finding no protest as he sanctioned it. He dug the pads of his digits into your flesh in anticipation. His eyes fluttering, he watched as your mouth withdrew the generous gift he gave to you before you gave it right back to him as it gracefully streamed down on his pulsing, eager tongue. And nothing satisfied you more than hearing him sigh wistfully as it landed.

It sent you shivers how beautiful he looked despite how vulgar the act was. Only Xu Minghao could make tasting his own cum look so ethereal, and it only made you wonder what other things a face this beautiful was willing to do. You swiped whatever fell from the corner of his lips with your thumb, sucking the residue like leftovers before you connected your mouths, sharing and tasting his lewd tang in violent swirls, and pulling away to watch it stretch between your tongues.

“I guess toothbrushes aren’t the only things you like to share,” Minghao teased before pushing you on your back, grinding his resurrecting arousal against your clothed heat and lathering the thick, viscous substance flat between your tongues in your mouths as it dribbled down your chins until there was nothing but slobber. It was a mess, and the most unmannerly you’ve ever seen him, and you’ve never been more turned on.

“My turn.”

With a rough hand, he tugged you by your legs towards him, hearing you let out a yelp, and shoved down your shorts to expose your glistening, mouth-watering, arousal soaked entrance. Be still his heart. He felt himself throb seeing you ruin his bed, but hell if he wasn't going to be sucking those juices out of the sheets until he’d tasted every drop.

He kicked off his sweats, leaving him entirely vulnerable while you witnessed his cock slowly twitch back to life before he laid on his stomach between your arched legs. “If we want to talk about pretty things, your pussy is high up on that list.”

Not waiting for a response, he licked a thick stripe up your inner thigh, flickering over your folds before sucking them in his mouth, using the tip of his tongue to tease your entrance. He felt the flutter of your core before spitting, lathering at the juices, coating at entrance but not peeking to see what was inside. “You’re already so wet, fuck.” 

“Hao…” You whined.

“Mmmh, I love how you sound,” he chuckled, running long strokes up your slit, wedged through you with every swipe, looking arm around your leg to hold you in place as his thumb brushed over your clit. “Are your moans always this delicious? Or are they reserved for when you’re thinking about me?” 

Shaking your head, you were too turned on to answer verbally, while his mouth closed around your clit and sucked, utilizing his fingers to assume their previous position. You clenched your stomach, fisting into the sheets as you spread your legs, feeling them already clam up from the tension as his tongue flicked against your sensitive bud in unison with his fingers twisted up into, and you couldn’t help but writhe underneath him.

“Yes, spread those pretty legs for me,” he encouraged with a haughty smile before burying his face, his moans vibrating up your walls as his tongue massaged your walls and tasted your cock pulsing nectar, sending chills up your spine.

You mewled, and feeling reserved, you held your hands up to your face to shield the tears collecting at your eyes threatening to fall, but Minghao grabbed you by the wrists, roughly pinning them to the bed.

His eyes narrowed back at you before softening almost menacingly, “Don’t cover your pretty face, watch me.”

“But—”

“I want you to watch me fuck your pretty pussy with my mouth. Don’t make me say it twice.” He warned before he got you a quiet nod, earning you a kiss against your inner thigh.

His hand flattened against your inner thighs again, pressing them further away from another and delving his tongue deeper as he rubbed your clit, working your insides until he tasted every inch of you possible. He buried his face, but his eyes were clear, staring at you as he worked his jaw, engorging with his mouth that sent you above and beyond and his eyes that saw you at the result of your undoing. You had no choice but to cling on, freeing yourself from his grasp to have your fingers fly in his hair, navigating him as you took him for a joy ride, his tongue shifting gears as it picked up pace.

“S-shit!” You rolled your hips, threading your fingers through his locks and clamping his head between your thighs as you pushed him deeper.

“Yes, ride my face—fuck, use me, please,” he pleaded in a cracked voice, pouring his heart into his feast until he was practically suffocating, worth it to worship you and bring you to the highest peak of your pleasure.

Your legs trembled as his moans infiltrated your heat, the intense flicks of his tongue titillating you to the brink of ecstasy until he used it to fuck you in time with his fingers thrusting inside, clutching you as you held him in place and grinding against him. “My god, Hao!”

Hips shaking, you bucked into his mouth, and even after your release, he made no effort to stop, lifting you to his mouth as he got on his knees, eating you like a meal he’d never have again until he worked his tongue raw, tasting you and only you as your cum coated his mouth. You squirmed, the suction of his lips on your sensitive core in tandem with his tongue viciously swirling inside you overwhelming you beyond words, unable to kick him off as he held both your knees above his head.

“You’re gonna kill me, Hao,” you cried desperately. “Just put it in me.”

He chuckled before setting you down, meeting your lips halfway as he stroked his fully erect cock, massaging the evening’s concoction against your tastebuds, mingling the contrasting flavors as they battled in your mouth while the knowledge of it all pebbled your skin. Meanwhile, he ran his hands over you beneath your shirt, found your nipples, rolling them against his thumbs as his cock rubbed between your folds, ebbing your moans as they buzzed against his lips. “What if I want to play with you first?” He taunted.

You whined, brushing your lips repeatedly over his. “I want you inside me.”

“You’re cute even when you’re needy,” he gushed.

You clasped your hands over his soft, warm cheeks. “Minghao, please…”

He playfully rolled his eyes, kissing into your palm then down your wrist before his teeth playfully started nibbling at your skin. “Fine, because you asked so nicely. Just to let you know, though, I don’t have a condom on me right now, but I’m clean.”

“Then, we don’t need one.”

He grinned, stroking the back of your head. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Rubbing his tip down your slit, he savored your whimpers as he drew circles against your clit before sliding his length through your folds and stretching your walls, letting you slowly adjust to his presence. Your jaw slightly dropped as you took a sharp inhale, fingers digging into his shoulders and clinging on to him before you felt him sink deeper inside you, pacing his thrusts in a steady rhythm. Your eyes flit to meet his, feeling the back and forth of his hips as they snapped, while you reveled in each collision.

“Yes please…”

Before losing himself in his pleasure, he was determined to remember how you looked getting lost in yours, taking in your features as they distorted under his care. He first found your eyes–lost in a galaxy with an infinite amount of stars out of the way. Then, his eyes started to follow the slope of your cheeks, flushed to the touch against the back of his hand, saliva leaking out of your swollen lips. And your body with the shirt adhered to you by the sweat on your skin, clinging to your form and proving to him time and time again that you were not only the object of his desires, you were something straight out of his dreams.

“You look, taste, and feel good? Where have you been all my life? Really?” He landed a harsh thrust, pressing down on your nipples and smiling manically at how you whimpered in response, clutching you as you shuddered against him. “You like that?”

You nodded, clawing your hand up his back.

“Mmh, me too,” he drew his lips to your ear. “And I like you. A lot. I wouldn’t let someone go on and use my toothbrush for months if I didn’t.” He slowed down his thrusts, cupping your face to meet your eyes. “You like me too, right?”

Feeling your ears burn, you frantically nodded again, mewling after you felt him nip at them, teeth scraping under your earlobe before an open mouth pressed against the side of your neck. The warmth of his breath sweltering against you as you struggled to carry on with the conversation Minghao was determined to have.

“Yeah, you want me to take you on a real date?” He said into the nape of your neck, moaning into your skin as he dragged his hips, rutting into you like an animal.  He barely made out your soft ‘yes’s in your sharp gasps. He gritted his teeth, taking you by the hips, pushing himself flushed against you. “Fuck, you’re so cute,” he groaned.

His hips took flight while he separated your mouth in a loud moan, feeling you becoming malleable under his touch and growing weaker as you recoiled against him. He lifted your shirt above your chest and neared your stiff peaks, rolling your bud against the base of his tongue as he pinched the other, moving out of pure instinct. You threw your head back, going mad with sexual gratification. Your body spasmed out of your control, yet you craved more.

“Harder,” You gasped.

He scoffed under his breath in disbelief. “You want even more?”

“Yes…I want you to cum inside me. I want to feel everything that’s yours, Minghao.”

Knees buckling at your titillating request, he gripped your ass in both palms, clutching you against him as he rammed himself up inside you, and you’re forced to hold on. “I’ll do you one better,” he offered, “why don’t I just make you mine?”

“I…Oh, god…” Your brain was becoming mush, only processing the sound, taste, smell, sensation of Minghao’s cock as he plunged himself inside you. It fogged up your thoughts, clouded your judgement, and only formed incoherent gibberish that took place of real vocabulary as they passed through your swollen lips.

“Be mine, hmm?” He asked, pleading. “That way I can be yours.”

Captivated by his words, you nodded, feeling him suck the life out of you as your body felt close to giving out, the hilt of his cock bottoming out inside you. You anchored your legs around him, following his pace before you felt something within reach, just seconds away from ripping a scream out of your throat that would surely ensue a noise complaint from one of your neighbors.

“Hao, I’m going to cum, I’m really close,” you meekly warned.

His hand settled against your thigh, nodding. “I can feel it. You’re shaking so hard. Let me have it, I’ll catch you. Every last bit of you.”

Ecstasy was just a word, but Minghao was everything, and you could breathe in that everything. 

Your bodies crushed against each other, lost in heat as you became one. Breaths blended, bodies embraced, only faltering after you long finished the initial orgasms, coming back for more. You embraced  the sheer carnivorous lust that quelled this several month long push and pull, adhering you by the sweat misted on each other's skin before your mouths tenderly met repeatedly.

Sleep felt futile, while the night felt everlasting. Minghao’s company was more than you could ever ask for, and by the time you did sleep, you were too tired to move. You collapsed against each other, bodies drowning in each other’s releases, sheets and pillows stained by the arousal from the evening’s lack of inhibitions. Minghao should’ve been just as tired, but instead he tended to your tired body, leaving kisses in its wake as he cleaned you off and slept alongside you in your clean bed, letting him worry about laundry in the morning.

With your eyes closed, mind in another world, Minghao was brushing the hair away from your face, softly smiling as you gently stirred and nestled closer to him. In response, he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, warmth blooming in his chest as a grin developed on your face.

“I’ll take you on a proper date. I promise,” he said while you slept. “And If I don’t, pull the bad roommate card on me. You can punish me however you like.”

“…ok, I will.”

[nightwingsgypsyrep]

Ok so I’ve been umming and ahhing about making this post for a while. I’ve always kinda planned on it, but seeing these tags on a previous post of mine (no hate to this user) made me want to post something now. It’s also gone 3am. So it’s not really going to be very clean and tidy, and will probably be a bit rambling, but I can always post a ‘tidy’ version another time.

So! Tackling Dick Grayson’s Romani/GRTSB heritage (warning: it’s a long one)

So, as usual, a few disclaimers: 1) I am not American. 2) I myself fall under the GRTSB umbrella - for clarity, I am from the fairground/circus so a Showman, but my family were simply ‘gypsies’ before getting involved in that in the Victorian period, so I use gypsy/traveller/Showman for myself. I also speak Romani and grew up in the culture and on the grounds. I’m not just talking out of my arse, I promise. 3) I do not pretend to have read every comic. However, this post will be based in things which DC have published (yeah I know it gets retconned every two minutes but hey, I’m working with it), even if some of it is more speculative/Headcanony, it will all be canon-compliant/what makes sense based on my own experiences. 4) That being said, everyone who does in some way fall under the GRTSB acronym will have different experiences and opinions, and all are equally valid and should be respected. 5) I use the term ‘gypsy’ a lot. Where I am from, it is not a slur, but is used almost a catch-all phrase for GRTSB people, by us. We also see Dick use it so I’m going to. I personally don’t mind if people use it (so long as they don’t use it as an insult) but not everyone will feel that way, so it’s always better to ask individuals. 6) this post is intended as a fun exploration of a character whom I relate to based on our shared heritage (when it’s really rare to find characters like that). I’m not trying to dictate to you how you should interpret Dick’s character. You’re welcome to different opinions and interpretations - this is just one of mine! :)

So, first, what is GRTSB? Well, it’s an acronym which covers all aspects of the gypsy/traveller umbrella. It is used in British legislation. It stands for Gypsy Romani Traveller Showman (aka fairground and circus) Boater. Under British legislation, only the first three (Gypsies, Romani, and Travellers) are considered an ethnic identity, whilst Showmen and Boaters are considered a cultural identity.

This is absolutely FULL of problems and has been hotly debated for years, with different people identifying in different ways. People who share the same/very similar ethnic heritage (i.e. siblings, or cousins) can have completely different points of view on what they identify as. As such, don’t take it as gospel - it’s more of a guideline than anything. Especially since a) these groups often intermarry, meaning that someone can be multiple at once; b) if a Showman stops travelling with the fair and settles, they don’t become a non-traveller, because it’s in your blood, not just a job; c) people can trace their heritage back past a particular group - e.g. my own family (circus and fairgrounds aka Showmen) can be traced back to at least the 1600s, before fairs were really a thing - at the time, they simply identified as gypsies. They didn’t stop being gypsies just because they changed their job/founded a circus/fairground. As such, many in my family identify primarily as a gypsy or traveller, and a Showman secondarily, whilst others do the opposite, or identify as just a Showman or just a traveller/gypsy. Like I say, this classification is not perfect, and is hotly debated, especially at the present time.

So, now, onto the subject of Dick Grayson. I included the tags above mostly because of the ‘tell me you don’t know a character without telling me you don’t know a character’, because, firstly, rude. secondly, the poster makes reference to the Golden Age. And yeah, obviously DC aren’t going to make reference to Dick being a gypsy in the Golden Age - do you really expect writers in the 40s to care enough about the nuances of a character’s ethnic heritage, especially a gypsy, at a time when it was still common even in countries like England (where legal segregation wasn’t a thing) to have signs on pubs like ‘no blacks, no Irish, no dogs, no gypsies’ - btw we still get those occasionally? However, if we look at the comics which have been published in the eighty five years since Dick’s debut, we see a lot of references to Dick having Romani/GRTSB heritage. Again, I’m not well read, but in Grayson’s run, at least, we do see Dick speaking Romani and self-identifying as a gypsy (Nightwing #91 btw). So I’m sorry but it is definitely canon that Dick has at least some Romani heritage (since Romani, by culture, is not taught to non-travellers on purpose, and is thus only passed down from parent to child. Hell, even some of my cousins who are half gypsy - Diddakois - don’t know the language!), and the fact that he speaks it and IDs as a gypsy does suggest that this is something important to him and his character. I know that being a gypsy is certainly a big thing to me (with how the world treats us, you have to be proud of it and have it be important to you to make it worth it).

So now we come onto the second part of my rant: wtf is going on with Haly’s Circus.

So, an important bit of context is, what makes a gypsy a gypsy? And the answer to that, in my opinion, is a mix between culture and blood. You can’t be a gypsy (unless in circumstances like adoption) unless you have both. What I mean by that is, if you’ve got one gypsy great great great grandparent, but weren’t bought up with the culture and morals, you have gypsy heritage but are not a gypsy. However, if you are a gypsy and you decide to settle down in a house, work in an office, and never speak Romani again, you are still a gypsy. Similarly, if you suddenly decide to take on the gypsy lifestyle (maybe work on the fairgrounds or in the circus, or go travelling like the New Age lot), you are not a gypsy, because it’s not in your blood - hence why it’s an ethnicity, not a cultural thing really. As such, it is common for there to be a us vs them mentality even with those working on the ground - you have the gypsy/traveller/Showman who tends to own/run things, and then you have hired non-GRTSB staff (traditionally called chaps, but this has fell out of fashion in recent years).

Now, I make this distinction because Haly’s Circus is really odd in that regard.

Most gypsy (or Showmen - like I say, it can be both at the same time) ran circuses and fairs tend to be family affairs. For example, it might be John Doe’s Circus on the tin, but the Smith family (which Mr Doe’s sister married into) will often work with and alongside the Does in the running and operating of the events. Largely, this is on an ownership level, with various relations then owning the surrounding supporting elements (e.g. sideshows, fairground rides and joints, food kiosks). Other family members might then help ‘mind’ the stuff, or you can hire non-GRTSB staff to help.

Now to draw on my own family history: historically, in the Victorian period, etc, it was common for the gypsy family who owned the circus to also perform in it. For example, in my grandfather’s circus, my grandmother was a lion tamer and equestrian performer in parades. They did also hire non-traveller performers, but there wasn’t such a distinct line. However, by the 30s approximately, this had changed to be a more managerial role, with it being more common to have purely hired performers in the main event. The exception here was for sideshows and fairground rides - it is still common today for these to be ran/worked by GRTSB people (e.g. my grandmother did the dookering - fortune telling - and my grandfather did the boxing; today, we still run and operate the rides and kiosks).

However, we know that Haly’s circus was not like that. We honestly don’t know if Haly was a gypsy or not. Also, usually, gypsies have such big families and are surrounded by them, but we know that the Graysons died with no living family (no William Cobb does not count here) and had no relation to anyone at Haly’s. I suppose if you want a canon answer, you could point to how Haly’s was used by the Court of Owls, but it could just be Like That. This is unusual but not unheard of, but still worth pointing out I think. Alternatively, it could originate from one of the non-GRTSB started circuses which were popular around the turn of the 20th century. Since being a gypsy is really tied to your family name and, ethnically, means you have to be born into it - you can’t just start a fair and claim to be one-, even 120 years later, these families are still met with scepticism - they could marry into a 100% gypsy family in 1901, and have all of their descendants do the same, and still the older generation would look at their surname and scoff and say they’re not a real traveller because that one great grandfather 100 years ago was not a born-and-bred traveller. But honestly, I think 100 years is enough to integrate. So, to summarise, Haly’s circus is quite unusual in that it does not appear to be operated by only gypsies/Showmen, even if it still common for circuses not to be performed in by just gypsies.

Now, to answer, how Romani is Dick Grayson?

Like I say, canon does explicitly tell us that he has Romani heritage, placing him firmly within that second category of the GRTSB acronym (and he also identifies with the more general Gypsy identity). However, it’s frankly unlikely that the writers really went in depth with the whole GRTSB thing, so I think we can tentatively suggest that he might have also identified (keyword here being ‘might’ - this is more canon-compliant HC here y’all) as a Showman (called a Carney in the US) because the whole deal with being a Showman is the circus/fairground aspect (but, like I say, it is still a ‘gypsy’ identity as you must be born a Showman, you can’t just sign up, because it is based on a mutual gypsy heritage which predates fairgrounds/circuses, which means it still fits into what we know of Dick in canon. As such, Dick being a Showman is hardly canon, but it is 100% compliant with what we know of Dick in canon). As I’ve said, they are not mutually exclusive. He could ID as both or either, or just prefer the all-encompassing ‘gypsy’.

Now, we also know that Dick is not 100% gypsy (but tbh who is nowadays? I have two non-gypsy great-great grandfathers). Although Dick’s family history is limited, we know that his great grandfather William Cobb was likely not a gypsy (he could be ethnically, it’s not ruled out, he might have just settled, but let’s go for safety’s sake here and just say he’s not). Similarly, his partner was from a wealthy non-gypsy family, meaning that ethnically, their baby (John Grayson’s father) was likely not a gypsy (though could potentially have been a Diddakoi aka a half-gypsy, if we believe William Cobb to be a settled gypsy). However, since this baby still grew up amongst the circus, it is not impossible that he ended up marrying a gypsy, which would make John Grayson half gypsy - aka a Diddakoi. In fact, I would argue that it is even likely, owing to the fact that Dick speaks Romani, and the fact that Romani is only taught to other members of the family, meaning that somewhere in the Grayson family, a Romani speaker had to be introduced. Mary Grayson (formerly Lloyd), on the other hand, probably was Romani/GRTSB herself. I say this, based mostly on her closeness with the OG Richard aka Raptor from Seeley’s run, who was Romani, and the fact that it is really common in gypsy circles to mostly mix with other gypsies, meaning that it would make sense for the pair to meet based on the fact that they were both gypsies/Romani. Therefore, I would argue that even if Dick is not wholly Romani/gypsy ethnically (but, like I say, who is nowadays?), I think there is enough both blood and culturally to make a pretty good case for him IDing as such, and foregoing the need to make any distinction. (Also, especially nowadays when Diddakois are increasingly more common, it’s not even that prejudiced to be a Diddakoi. A lot of my cousins are and you don’t even think to mention it). Aka. He’s a gypsy. Nuff said.

Then, I suppose, the final thing I’ll address is the ‘whitewashing’ issue, or, what I really think is a non-issue.

Sure, a lot of ethnically Romani people are dark skinned. There is a reason why the term gypsy exists. Now, as my grandad will tell you, gypsies originated from Northern India about 2000 years ago, before moving into Europe. However, a lot can happen in 2000 years. There are a lot of people in the UK, at least, who identify as purely Romani who have very pale skin. My family has a real split: my dad’s side of the family is quite dark, and are often mistaken for being South Asian in the summer due to how dark they get when they tan. Meanwhile, he refers to my mother’s side of the family as being ‘poxy and pasty’. My mother is a full-blooded traveller btw, same as my dad (barring their singular non-gypsy great grandad they each had). You just can’t paint everybody with the same brush. Take me for example: I am pale af and take after my mum’s side of the family, but I’ve still got the stereotypical dark curly hair and blue eyes of gypsies (which my boy also shares). Genetics are weird. So whilst I am a big fan of dark skinned Romani Dick Grayson, it’s also still ok and accurate for him to be paler. This does not make him any less Romani. (Like I say, this is all based on my experiences in the UK).

SOOO… TLDR:

Dick definitely has Romani heritage. This has been canon for decades and cannot be taken away from him.

He canonically self-IDs as a ‘gypsy’ (as well as the Romani heritage), and may also be interpreted as being a Showman (even if this is more of a European term) if you want to see him that way, especially since a lot of Showman families (mine included) can trace their families back past the origin of the fairground to when they simply identified as gypsies or Romani (hence why Dick might ID as a gypsy with Romani heritage. Honestly, this is mostly in the realm of canon-compliant Headcanon now)

The GRTSB classification system is a mess y’all and everyone has a different opinion. Just roll with it and don’t get into the debates is my professional opinion.

Being Romani/a gypsy/a traveller/a Showman is something you are born into. You can’t just become one, or stop being one. So, if we presume that William Cobb had no Romani heritage/was not a settled-down Gypsy, even after he joined Haly’s he did not become one. It really is in your blood, and is tied to family.

Haly’s circus is unusual because it’s mostly not a family affair (though points for the Graysons sticking with it and inheriting their roles - that is realistic!). It’s unclear how many of the members of the circus are Romani.

Dick also has non-traveller heritage due to the William Cobb thing. His grandfather, at least, was probably not ethnically Romani (though he might have been half if we want to view William Cobb as having Romani heritage/being a settled gypsy). However, since Dick canonically has Romani heritage, IDs as a gypsy, and speaks Romani (a language which is closely guarded amongst gypsies), it had to come in somewhere. Honestly, I think we can comfortably view him as being at least 3/4 ethnically Romani/a Gypsy, but also since modern Dick Grayson was not born during prohibition, this really isn’t a problem as it’s really common for Diddakois (half gypsies) to be treated as full gypsies nowadays.

As much as I love darker skinned Dick Grayson, it’s not a requirement. A lot of the GRTSB community (especially in Western Europe/Britain/Ireland) are on the pale side. This does not take away from their identity.

So that’s my rant. It’s like 3.30am so it’s probably a complete mess but hopefully it gets down the basics, at least insofar as it relates to my experiences and understanding as a gypsy from the fairground/a circus family. People will probably have different experiences (especially since I’m in the UK). Although I have based all of this on canon, and as such it should all be canon-compliant to my knowledge (I’ve still not read all the comics!), it is also equally based on my experiences, so you may interpret it completely differently. The beauty of Dick’s character is that he has been built up over 85 years, and as such, we have to do our best to interpret what was laid down in the Golden Age by writers with no idea of what Dick’s character would grow to be. As such, canon really is a bit of a sandbox, and this is my own go at it!

If anyone has any questions/wants clarification/notices any obvious contradictions with canon since I’ve not read them all yet, please feel free to point it out! This is not intended to be a lecture/call out post/dictatorship on how you view canon, just a small exploration of my interpretation of a character whom I relate to as a Romani speaking gypsy from the fairground/circus myself.

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Alpha - Logan Howlett x ftm!reader

A/N: Hi! Um, this is my first work within the fandom! This was written with X-Men Logan in mind. Fic is unedited with no use of Y/N. This is so self-indulgent, so please be nice

Please make sure to read the tags carefully! They’re there for a reason

CW: Reader is a wolf mutant; Logan and Reader get off to a tense start; Reader is implied to be pre-op ftm, via the use of sports bras; implied wet dreams; use of the words slick and wet to describe Reader’s arousal; a/b/o dynamics? maybe?; misunderstandings; rough sex; pet play? (Reader is called pup); Reader is referred to as handsome; grinding; fingering; use of the word dick to describe Reader’s parts; overstimulation; no use of safe word; unprotected piv; multiple orgasms; implied aftercare

2493 words

The first thing you notice about Logan is his scent.

Not that you know it belongs to him. But it’s all you can smell as you talk to Jean. Thick and heady and strong. Musky like an animal and cloying like smoke.

Jean, of course, can tell you’re distracted. Instead of calling you out on it, she simply calls him in. Him and Scott enter at the same time, with an air of tension between them. Not that you care for long.

You’re too busy ogling the man in front of you. Rugged and handsome, more like a mountain man than a teacher.

Yet, that’s how Jean introduces him. Logan Howlett. History teacher.

You smile politely. You hold out your hand and try to not get too offended when he doesn’t shake it. You can tell he’s wary of you. Not that you could blame him.

You must be giving off a scent of your own, though you can’t smell it. But you can hear his inhale, feel the way his eyes watch you. You know he knows.

Especially when he straightens up. Lifting his chin and widening his stance. Establishing his dominance in a more subtle way than most other males. Perhaps he’s just that assured in his position.

Either way, you can feel your instincts itching at the back of your mind. The desire to submit. To recognize his authority. It pricks at you like a needle, but you brush it away. You’ve had enough of submitting to men like him. If he wants it, he’ll have to earn it.

Jean rests a hand on Logan’s arm, softly scolding him, probably for what he’s thinking. “Hey, be nice. They’re a wolf mutant.”

“A wolf mutant?” He looks unimpressed.

You stand your ground. Your nerves are starting to buzz from the force of his gaze. You hate stare downs, but you can’t lose this one.

“Yeah.” You answer him yourself. “That’s me.”

He scoffs and looks you up and down. “Yeah, whatever, bub. You ever even see a real wolf?”

You know what he’s doing and you hate it. But at least he’s not mistaking you for a girl and being all overly nice. You’d rather get his blunt side than his fake side.

“No. I’m a wolf mutant, not a real wolf.” You at least try to keep some of the sarcasm from your voice. Trying’s worth something, right?

Logan doesn’t look impressed. He crosses his arms, which prompts Scott to finally step in. “Welcome to Xavier’s Home for—“

“Thanks.” You interrupt him with a smile, but your gaze never leaves Logan’s.

Scott seems caught off guard. “Why… don’t I show you around…?”

Something in you relaxes at the thought of being away from such an intimidating man like Logan. You nod and accept his offer.

On your tour, your thoughts keep drifting back to Logan. Even away from him, your body sets on edge at the thought of him. He’s going to be trouble for you, you’re sure of it.

Most of the mutants at Xavier’s are surprisingly accepting of you. The adults, you mean. You don’t tell the kids.

Maybe it’s because you have Jean and Scott on your side, but most of the adults don’t bother you after learning your secret. Most of them find out when you come to training wearing a sports bra and baggy pants.

A few have questions. Most just leave you alone.

You’ve never been more grateful that Logan wasn’t around than during that particular training session.

The tension between the two of you has only gotten worse. You’re sticking by your defiance to his posturing, even at the expense of your pride. Your nerves hate it as well, practically screaming at you whenever Logan gets too close.

Part of you can’t figure it out. You’ve been around men like him before, but never with this reaction. The other part of you doesn’t care enough.

And yet, you care enough to be relieved that he doesn’t directly know your secret. It’s not a huge deal; you’re pretty sure Jean would’ve told him by now. But it’s still nice that he doesn’t know from you.

Until he does.

The whole day starts with you feeling off. You have one of those good dreams, and wake up in a puddle of your own slick. Definitely a damper to your morning.

Then they run out of your favorite breakfast food, some of your students are late to class, and it goes on and on.

By evening you are pissed. Not just at life but at yourself. Because the one thing you cannot get out of your mind is your dream.

You can remember strong arms. Growls of your name. A thick cock bullying its way between your legs. Delicious pleasure.

But you cannot remember the face. It eludes you all day. Stuck there at the back of your mind. On the tip of your tongue.

It’s not until Logan walks into your classroom after your last class that it hits you. With horrifying, picture perfect clarity.

Logan. It was Logan. You had a fucking wet dream about Logan.

Even worse? You’re not as opposed to the idea as you thought you’d be.

For a moment, you’re just staring at Logan. He raises an eyebrow. “You okay, bub?”

“Uh, yeah.” You hastily gather up your things, hoping beyond hope that he can’t smell the slight arousal you feel.

You know it’s too late when you brush by him and he stiffens. You know he can smell you. It doesn’t help the problem.

“What—“

You make your exit. Very fast. Very undignifying. But he doesn’t follow, so you count it as a win.

Two things change. The first is that you start avoiding Logan as much as possible. The second…

Well, the second is that he features in every single one of your dirty fantasies. Every wet dream. Every random horny thought. All Logan.

And it is infuriating.

Logically, you know why. He’s the protector of the house. The ‘alpha’ of the pack, so to speak. Sooner or later your body would react to his presence. He’s strong, handsome, and gruff. Literally your type.

You still blame it on your biology and pretend you don’t think of him when you get off.

It works for a week. One week, that’s how long you get before Logan corners you in the Training Room.

The moment you smell his musky scent, you know you’re fucked. He smells like anger. And something more that you try really hard to not think about.

But this moment was to come eventually, so you gear yourself up and face him head on.

You know you’re a sight. Sweaty and out of breath, wearing a sports bra and pants. If he didn’t know before, he sure does now.

Logan stops a few feet away from you. He eyes you up and down, frowning slightly. For a moment, there’s nothing but silence between you.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says gruffly.

You cross your arms and wait for him to continue. Slivers of anxiety spiking through your body.

“Why? Why are you avoiding me?” Logan looks frustrated and it makes you want to cower. Shrink down and beg for his forgiveness.

You hated it. How dare he make you feel this way? All because you’re stuck with a fucking wolf mutation that makes you want to hide like a little puppy from him.

So you push against your instincts. Straighten yourself up. Meet his gaze full on. “What does it matter why?”

Logan blinks. As if he hadn’t been expecting your defiance. Then he rumbles out a growl. “You missed the team training session yesterday. How are we supposed to make sure you’re ready for missions if you don’t show up?”

It’s your turn to blink. To stare. To be confused. “What?”

He crosses his arms, unintentionally making his forearms stand out so perfectly. Not that you’re noticing, of course. Just another pesky side effect of his presence.

“You’re one of the most capable mutants here,” Logan says firmly. “So if you have an issue, let’s talk about it now.”

“Wait, you’re here about missions?”

He nods. Then frowns. “What else would I be here for?”

Suddenly you feel stupid. Absolutely stupid. “So… you’re not here about…” You gesture to your body.

His frown deepens. “What?”

“You know,” your anxiety feels like fire ants in your stomach. “The fact that my body is—“

“I could care less, bub,” he says bluntly. “It’s your body.”

You want to cry. You want to laugh. This whole time you’ve been stressing about Logan, and he hasn’t given a single fuck.

You relax. Your anxiety dissipating so fast it makes your head feel funny. That’s one of your problems solved.

And the other?

Well, it only gets worse.

It all comes to a head on a random Tuesday.

Scott, Jean, and Ororo are off on a mission. The students have all been dismissed from their classes. You’re in the Training Room, working out yet another filthy dream about Logan.

Your fantasies about him have gotten more intense now that you know he doesn’t care about the way your body is. It’s a major, major problem. You’ve started getting dehydrated from the amounts of slick you’re creating.

Which is why you’re in the Training Room instead of getting off. You’re lucky Jean and the Professor haven’t said anything yet, but sooner or later they’re gonna know.

You’re working through your third round of training dummies when a scent catches your attention. Musk and thick smoke. You stop immediately.

“Don’t mind me,” Logan says, a hint of amusement in his gruff tone. “I’m just here to train as well.”

Your hopes for training might as well be ashes in the wind. There is no way you are going to be able to focus on anything other than him.

“Wanna spar?” You ask, false cockiness in your voice.

Instantly your instincts are screaming at you. Challenging the alpha to a fight? You might as well give up your position in the school now. No one challenges an alpha to a fight without a cause behind them.

Excessive horniness apparently didn’t count to your wolf brain. But it did to you.

Logan eyes you. He seems tense; can he smell your light arousal in the air?

“Sure.” You find yourself both relaxing and tensing at his agreement.

You clear the floor and get into your positions. Your instincts start to settle, helping you focus. You take a breath, and move.

The sparring is brutal. Fun and exhilarating, but brutal.

One thing leads to another, and the next thing you know you’re flat on your back. Logan pinning you down. One hand keeping your hands above your head, the other keeping your waist against the floor. His knee nudged between your legs.

You get wet ridiculously fast. You’re panting, gasping for breath, and you can smell your own arousal. You can feel the slick coating your thighs, soaking through your boxers.

You meet Logan’s gaze. Your wolf instincts are mostly quiet for once. Probably because he already has you pinned down. The only thought in your head?

Submit to him.

Logan’s pupils are blown. He’s panting too, and you know he can smell you.

“You into this sort of shit?” He asks, voice hoarse.

You can’t do much against the instincts of your brain. You let your head rest against the floor. “Into you, maybe.”

There’s a moment of silence.

Logan’s voice is rougher than you’ve ever heard it. The sound goes straight to your core.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he growls, “and it’ll never have happened.”

“I want this,” you say, a hint of a whimper in your voice. “Logan, I need—“

His mouth smashes against yours. It’s not pretty, it’s not delicate. He kisses you like he’s starving, ravaging your mouth. Nipping at your lips until the tang of blood fills your mouth.

It’s not pretty, but it makes you oh so wet.

You moan into his mouth, struggling against his hold on you. You want to rake your fingers through his hair, buck up against him, really just anything more than what he’s giving you now.

“Settle down, pup,” he growls.

Your body responds embarrassingly fast. You still, panting into his mouth.

“Please,” you beg, “please, Logan, I need you.”

He smirks. Nudges his knee against your crotch. Even the slight amount of friction feels like heaven and you chase it with a moan.

“Dumb little slut,” he mutters. “Bet you’re already soaked for me, huh, handsome?”

You just whine, too busy grinding against his knee to answer. You need more. You need more. Why isn’t he giving you more?

“Logan,” your voice breaks, “Please!”

“Please what?” His fingers ghost along the waistband of your pants. “Use your words.”

“Please touch me,” you whimper.

He smirks, his words dripping with condescension. “Good boy.”

You almost cum just from his words alone. And when his fingers dip under your waistband, sliding into your boxers to circle your dick?

Your vision blurs with pleasure, your body squirming underneath him. He doesn’t let up, just keeps rubbing his fingers against you. It’s torture, pure delicious torture.

“Logan!” You sob. “Too much!”

“Too much?” He mocks. “I can fucking smell you, pup. I can smell the amount of slick pouring out of you. It’s not ‘too much’ till I’ve drained every last drop of cum from your dick.”

As if to make his point, he stuffs two fingers inside you, stretching you out and making you sob. When you start to squirm, he shifts, letting go of your hands in favor of pinning down your waist. Keeping you firmly against the floor.

You burrow your fingers into his hair, gripping tightly to keep from screaming as he curls his fingers against that one spot inside you.

It’s exquisite, mind-numbing, perfect.

He bullies his cock inside you after your third orgasm, stretching you out and making you babble mindlessly. You’re a mess on the floor; fucked out, sweaty, and coated in your own slick.

The sounds are obscene, and you hope to god no one outside the room can hear you.

You can barely feel your legs, lost to everything except the pleasure and the feeling of his hands gripping your thighs as he pounds into you. Over and over and over.

He cums once, and fucks it all back into you. It’s not until you’re literally drooling on the floor that he finally lets up, cumming inside you for the second time.

You whine softly as he pulls out, blearily cracking open your eyes.

“Hush, pup,” he soothes. “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

He lifts you into his arms and you nuzzle into his chest. Uncaring about how messy you are, or about the puddle of cum and slick left on the floor.

It’s just Logan for now, and you’re content with that.

[greglunvik]

Drama In The Family: A Legacy Challenge

So...@hauntedtrait and I created a legacy challenge! This was in the works for a year & now its FINALLY here. We wanted to play through a legacy that has some sort of drama involved because...who doesn't like to torment their sims with some drama!? We've tried to incorporate relationship, friendship & family drama into this challenge. There are currently 7 gens to play through and maybe in the future we'll add more gens.

here is the google doc with the full guide. Use the tag #DITFlegacy if you plan on playing! Would love to see everyones gameplay!

Under the cut is the first gen of the legacy, but you can check everything out fully in the link above~

Guidelines

Firstly and most importantly: have fun! The challenge guidelines are just that, they are not a strict rule set you absolutely must follow no matter what, feel free to change things around as you see fit. If it works for you, then it’s right. 

This challenge was created with all packs and some mods in mind to enhance gameplay, but do not let that stop you, adapt as needed.

Wanna cheat the game, feel free to cheat, who are we to stop you! (That said you miiight have more fun if you don’t — unless you absolutely need to) 

Some gens are meant to be played immediately after the one listed above it, but the overall order isn’t absolute and you’re welcome to change it around. The only hard rule is that the White Picket Fence MUST be the founding generation.

For each generation multiple traits, skills, careers and aspiration options will be presented to you. We recommend picking 2 or 3 of the suggested traits, and the third (or more, if you use the 5 traits mod) is up to you, and 3 or more skills. It’s also up to you which aspiration(s) you complete, as long as you complete at least one from the list! 

Reaching career level 10 is not required unless specified.

Each gen starts at the young adult life stage. 

Suggestions

Medium and long lifespans will offer more time and opportunities to fully experience all aspects of this legacy challenge, but if you prefer to play on short you are more than welcome to.

Utilize gameplay from L&D and Growing Together if you have them to give each generation more depth, like Wills, Bucket List, Heirlooms and Keepsake boxes.

If you have the Businesses & Hobbies expansion and like that kind of gameplay, you could use a Small Business in place of the career option to make it more immersive (ie. if the career is lawyer, you could make a law firm small business) 

Generation One: White Picket Fence

You come from a very traditional household and always imagined yourself following the same path as your parents: marrying your high school sweetheart, having three kids together and living in the perfect white picket fence home. Unfortunately, things have not turned out that way so far – there was no childhood sweetheart and your apartment is far from perfect.  You start university, but you find yourself struggling to stay on track. You work odd jobs and part time to make ends meet while you try to figure it out. At this point in your life, you’re actually not sure if everything you’ve always dreamed of having is what you really wanted.

Career: Any 

Aspirations: Any

Traits (Pick 2-3): Hates Children, Self-Absorbed, Romantically Reserved (or Unflirty if you do not have the Lovestruck pack), Non-Committal, Lazy. 

Skills (Pick 3 or more): Charisma, Logic, Writing, Knitting, Pottery, 

Goals

Start in a small apartment or still living with your family. Cheat or use SNB bank mod to give your sim 2000 simoleons or less. 

Work odd jobs or part time until you get pregnant/get someone pregnant from a one night stand or short relationship.

Shotgun wedding! Marry the first sim you get pregnant with during the pregnancy. Bonus points: your spouse must have a conflicting trait with one or more of yours.

Once married, move into a fixer upper home and renovate as family funds grow, doing the nursery first of course. 

Start your career, you can’t keep up a family of three and a house on gig work after all.

At some point, have an affair with a coworker. 

Situations

College Cram: Finals are almost here and… you’re not prepared at all. Truth is, you’re beyond stressed and unsure if you’re cut out for this kind of thing.

Option A: You decide it’s worth pushing through and getting this done. You’re nearing the finish line, just one more semester, you can make it work, so you pull some all-nighters and ignore the looming dread, successfully getting your degree.

Option B: The struggle is too real and you can’t deny it anymore: college isn’t for you. Your parents are disappointed and you’re not sure what you’ll do about career prospects, but you just had to get out. You drop out of college and try a different path in life than the one you chose when you were 18.

The Affair: You’ve been seeing your coworker for some time now… and your spouse finds out.

Option A: Despite your mistake, your partner forgives you, and you both promise to work to mend this relationship, after all, the kids don’t deserve the difficulties of a divorce. Unfortunately, you remain unable to stay away from your coworker… so you get better at hiding it.

Option B: This is it, the end of the line. Your partner will never see past what you’ve done. Divorce is filed, it is not amicable, but it is fair, each one gets half, and custody is split evenly, with the kids spending equal time with each parent.

Extras/Optional

Live and bicker with a roommate while living in the apartment. 

Despite what the description implies, you don’t HAVE to go to uni and work at the same time. 

Also feel free to cheat for university if you’re not a fan of that kind of gameplay. 

Your spouse must have a conflicting trait with one or more of yours.

Your coworker must have great compatibility with you.  

Make your sims parents and siblings, if they’re still alive!

Have more than one kid, maybe even one with your lover?

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

i've seen a lot of people talk about lando fans needing to touch grass because we're mad about that picture, but you don't understand why we're mad. honestly, i have no reason to this, but i do need to get this off my chest.

a lot of lando fans (myself included) tried to ignore the way mclaren has been treating lando off track, as well as on track. we're not going to touch the subject of on track here. we're only talking about off track here. their instagram page has more oscar/oscar's car or joint pictures than that of just lando. they do post lando, but it's always in the second or the third slide. it's not the front of it, so it looks like they're posting oscar more.

now, the issue with that picture is that its fine that they clicked the picture. mistakes happen, oscar saw that he was covering lando, and he moved over for another picture where lando was visible as well. so, we, as fans, know that there are two versions of that picture that exists. what bothers us is that they not only posted it on their instagram with a heartfelt team related caption, but also made it their twitter header.

now, the instagram thing could have gone multiple different ways than the one mclaren chose to do it. they could have added a funny caption instead, or they couldn't done a little drawing of lando, just something cute, something funny, something that feels included. instead, they chose a picture where lando is completely covered. like, when i first saw the picture, i didn't even notice that lando was behind oscar. so, they chose that picture, they chose that caption, and on top of that, they chose to only tag one driver out of the two drivers they have.

and then, to go on and make that picture their twitter header? knowing full well that there is a version of that same moment where lando is, in fact, visible? that speaks volumes.

it took them over 2k comments on instagram before they changed their header picture on twitter, and before they tried to do damage control by posting lando more.

i'm not saying that the team should stop posting oscar or something. do not twist my words. i'm saying that there should be a balance of how much they post each driver, and if they're posting a team picture, it should include the entire team.

seeing that picture, as a lando fan, it is really disheartening. to us, it feels like the team have forgotten him, or put him on the back burner. to us, it feels like they have a bias and they're not being subtle about it. it kills us because we have seen lando hold his team higher than himself, work for the team instead of himself, count every win as the team's, and every loss as his own. we have seen lando do that for years, but mclaren seem to have completely left him in the trenches.

for every "mentally weak" comment regarding lando that comes up in the press, there are other drivers and other teams that are saying it's not true and are defending lando. his own team never say a word. for every mistake or bad quali/race position, lando blames himself and mclaren let him take the brunt of it from the media and the fans, and then a week later, come out with a small article somewhere about how it was actually the team's fault, not lando's.

people underestimate the power of social media sometimes. you think it's not a big deal that lando's being posted, just in the second or the third slide? sponsors only look at the face. the face on their instagram page is not lando. the way they're promoting both drivers differently is clear, and it's clear because that what we're seeing, what's being shown to us. mclaren are trying to be subtle about it, but their subtlety left the conversation a long time ago.

the narratives that they push about lando being weak, having reached his highest potential already, buckling under pressure, all of it could be debunked if the team spoke out about it and supported their driver. they're not, so these narratives are being shoved down people's throats. the hate comments on their own instagram posts are vile, and it doesn't take that long to put out a statement that those need to stop, that the fans don't know what's going on behind the scenes, and that the fans have no right to judge a driver on things they can't do. it's not that difficult, but it really seems like mclaren would rather burn to the ground than support their driver.

i don't expect everyone to understand this. i know there's going to be people who come at me and say that i'm being a conspiracy theorist or i'm overthinking this or whatever. but, if you haven't seen a person, or have been a person, who has given your all to someone or something, and get close to nothing in return, this is the type of behaviour that cannot be ignored.

[notjustjavierpena]

you have returned! hope you’re doing ok! i miss husband!javi like i’m missing a limb!

this got me thinking about a request - husband!javi having to go away for a work trip for a few days - comes back and like cute family time. once the kids are in bed he just goes crazy about reader, she’s tired but she handled the kids no problem and is kind of like no big deal about it. and he’s just feral at that. she’s such a good mum and he’s so turned on and he missed her and just ugh smut

Return

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: This is a request from the 17th of October 2023. Anon, I hope you are still with us. I loved writing this for you, and I hope it lives up to your expectations. Thank you to proofreading as always @angelofsmalldeath-codeine !! thank you for hyping me @theywhowriteandknowthings and @pinkypromisepascal 💖❤️

Summary: Javier returns from a business trip after being apart from his family for three whole days.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags:  +18, domesticity, a happy family, javi having a baby in his arms and spending alone-time with his kids needs its own tag, i love yous, pregnancy, playful and teasing hubby, touch-starved, banter, dirty talk, finger-fucking, talk about female masturbation, pussy eating, loud reader, piv sex, riding, nipple sucking, lactation kink, javi gets off on you being the mother of his children, multiple orgasms, creampie, intense sex, bliss, pillow talk

Word count: 8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54409297

Return

The sound of the door has you sprinting towards it. You throw your arms around Javier’s neck before he even manages to put down his bag, causing him to drop it and make a noise of concern in case its contents may end up spilling out on the floor. If you have to be completely honest, you don’t give a damn right now because you haven’t felt his embrace for nearly three whole days. 

“Hola, baby,” he says with a voice that tells you that he is smiling. He holds you close to himself, one hand reaching around your waist and the other one settling on the back of your head. He presses your body into his own, and you try to keep yourself from making a noise that reminds you of a schoolgirl. 

Javier has been on a work trip out of state. It happens from time to time that some department of the state gets the not-so-incredible idea of hiring him as a motivational speaker to make their conferences look more interesting than they actually are. Javier hates it but the money is good and his boss always ends up encouraging him in a way that mostly sounds like he has no choice. 

You hate it too. The act of sleeping in your bed alone, not feeling his body heat, and not being able to simply reach out for him if you need him, is torturous. Combined with taking care of three children alone, you find yourself slowly becoming a less-than-ideal version of yourself. It’s a stressfully romantic reminder that you can barely function without him.

“Hi,” you grin widely as you pull back to receive a kiss. You splay your palms on his chest, scratching slightly as he pecks your lips repeatedly for a moment. Your whole body feels like it is made up of butterflies fluttering around each other in a romantic dance. 

“Thank God that’s over,” he reaches for the suitcase when you finally allow him to step out of your arms. He walks into the kitchen, “They were talking through my whole fucking presentation, and the meetings afterward… I was just daydreaming about coming home to you and the kids the whole time.” 

“That bad?” You follow him around like a puppy. If you didn’t know that he would do the same thing had it been you arriving home, you would find yourself slightly pathetic for being such a fool for him. 

“I should’ve said no this time,” he says as if it had ever been an option. You nod as he continues, “I do it every year and I feel like an idiot each time.” 

“We need the money,” you argue, finally moving away from your husband to go to the living room where Sebastian is lying on a blanket. He squeals in delight at seeing you, and you pick him up with a coo. 

“We don’t need the money, we’ve got enough money,” Javier says from the kitchen. 

“Come say hi to your son,” you change the subject and hear Javier’s steps come closer.

“Oh, there he is,” Javier says and his voice switches to baby talk as you hand Sebastian to him. He settles him on his hip, bouncing slightly where he stands, “Te he extrañado tanto, mijo (I have missed you so much, my son).”

Sebastian gurgles happily up at his father. His eyes are full of recognition at the sound of the  familiar voice. You swear that you can see a little bit of the exhaustion in Javier’s eyes disappear. 

“He’s been really patient with his mom these past couple of days,” you say with a chuckle, “No fussing during naps or nothing. Almost like he knew I needed the extra sympathy.”

“Bet your momma handled everything way better than I could, huh? What do you think?” Javier shifts Sebastian to sit on his arm instead so he can blow a raspberry on his face. He smiles softly at you afterward, turning his head towards you so that he and his son are cheek to cheek, “Is that wrong to assume?”

“I still think you’re better with them than me,” you say simply. 

He tuts, “Bullshit.”

Sebastian makes another happy noise at hearing both of his favorite voices. He swings his tiny fists, and Javier grabs one of his hands, “If this one wasn’t so fixated on playing peek-a-boo, he’d agree. Suppose we all have our vices.”

You move past him with a roll of your eyes and a smile on your face. You go to check the food on the stove, and from behind you, Javier sniffs the air. He walks to join you by the counter, “What are you making?”

“Tu favorito (your favorite),” you smile at Sebastian instead of looking at him, leaning in to bump your nose with his tiny one. Sebastian grabs at your face. 

“No te merezco, mi amor (I don’t deserve you, my love).”

“We eat in twenty minutes,” you inform after lovingly shaking your head at him. He leans in to kiss you again and you know immediately that this is just one of many kisses you will get tonight. 

“Where are the rascals?” He asks. 

“In the garden,” you reply and open your arms, “Give him here and go say hi. Inés has been going on about you all day, so please save me from hearing more about her super-duper-awesome Daddy.”

Carefully, Javier hands over Sebastian, “I thought you liked her super-duper-awesome Daddy.”

“I think I might actually love him,” you grin and try not to feel silly at your sappiness because you do actually love him so much that it is stupid. Sebastian clings to you as soon as he smells you, resting his head on your shoulder and bunching his fists in your shirt.

Javier kisses you once more before heading to the door to the garden. You hear him leave it open, and watch him go outside and step off the porch with a hello. 

“Hey there, gremlins!” He shouts. Inés and Lucas, both engrossed in their own activities, look up at the same time. Their faces light up at the sight of their father, but Inés is the one who makes a noise so loud that you can hear it in the kitchen as if she’s speaking right next to you. 

Both of them come charging whilst shouting for him. you smile fondly at the sight of them colliding with their father who lets himself be knocked backward into the grass with a happy laugh. He wraps his arms around them and squeezes them tightly, “How’ve you been? I’ve missed you.”

They both look up at his face, speaking enthusiastically at the same time until he can barely tell what is going on. Their stories of the events of the last three days weave together until it is nonsense, and they don’t seem to notice that he cannot follow along with what they are saying. He ruffles their hair and sits up with them still cradled in the crooks of his arms, “Wow wow wow, uno a la  vez (one at a time).”

“I made a tower of blocks that was taller than me!” Inés says proudly and Lucas seems to let her have the spotlight for a moment. He knows that she’ll get distracted and run away soon anyway, giving him his own chance at talking to his father. Inés talks loudly, “Mommy took a picture. She said that you needed the evi— evin— uhh… evindance.”

“Evidence,” Lucas corrects her with a superior smirk. 

“That’s what I said,” she huffs. 

“Nuh-uh,” her brother protests and ducks out from underneath his father’s arm. 

“Ya-huh!” Inés removes herself from the embrace too. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Javier chuckles, “I’ll have to ask mamá for your picture. It sounds really cool.”

“Can we build one together?” She asks with a hopeful voice, “Pleeease.”

“Let’s save it for after dinner, mija (my daughter), okay?” He suggests, “And then I’ll build a tower that’s double the size of you before you gotta sleep.”

“Really? When?” Inés reveals that she still has no real concept of time. 

“After dinner, baby,” he says again, winking at Lucas who grins, “Go ask Mommy when we’re eating.” 

She is up in no time, running towards you in the kitchen. It leaves Lucas the perfect opportunity to have his moment. He gets up from the ground, his jeans covered in green patches, and starts walking towards the swing set that Javier built a few years ago. 

“Dad, you need to see what I’ve learned!” He says. 

“Alright, let’s see,” Javier pushes himself to stand with a groan and follows, crossing his arms over his chest and watching his son get onto the seat of the swing. By clutching the chains tightly, Lucas pulls himself to carefully stand up on the swing seat. 

Javier finds himself about to protest, instinctively holding out a hand to be ready for a potential fall. However, Lucas seems to have everything under control as he holds the chains tightly with both hands. He speaks as he starts swaying back and forth, looking hopeful for approval from who he knows to be the bravest man in his world, “I practiced all day yesterday!” 

“Eres increíble (you’re incredible)!” Javier cheers but then smiles smugly, “Does mom know you’re doing that?” 

“She told me not to,” he admits shyly. 

“Well, I haven’t seen anything,” Javier winks. 

“Thanks, Dad,” it sounds genuine, happy to keep a secret. Lucas lights up, “Wanna see me jump?”

“Even your old dad has limits,” Javier laughs with a shake of his head, “Get down from there. No jumping.”

“Fine,” his son grumbles. 

When he is on the ground, you pop your head out of the door to call them inside, “Dinner time,  chicos  (guys). Lucas, come in here and wash your hands.”

You smile as they approach, and when Lucas has walked past you, you stop Javier in the doorway and curl your fingers around his tie, “You better wash them too, Peña.”

—

The sun hangs low on the horizon when dinner ends. You start gathering the plates and glasses, and Lucas joins in without hesitation which gives Javier a glimpse of what happens when he isn’t home to take care of you. Maybe his son can sense your exhaustion too. He feels a pang of guilt in his stomach but decides to make up for it by getting his daughter ready for bed. 

“Come on, mija (my daughter),” he says, picking Inés up from the floor and throwing her over his shoulder to make her laugh, “Pajamas first and then building blocks.”

He carries her upstairs to the bathroom and helps her into her pajamas, braids her hair the way she likes it, and then gets her toothbrush. She spends the whole time babbling about how she’ll grow taller like her mother and thus they’ll have to build a higher tower each day. 

“Open up,” he says, sitting on the lid of the toilet with her standing between his legs. He holds her toothbrush in front of her mouth. 

“Do you think I’ll be taller than you someday?” She asks with her childlike eyes, and Javier has to tap her chin to make her remember to open her lips. 

“No, because I’ll just wear very big shoes, even if my head bumps against the ceiling,” he tells her with a grin, “C’mon, teeth brushing time.”

Inés grimaces but follows through and he has to shush her several times because she wants to keep talking.She even sports impatience on her face as her father wipes down her mouth with a damp flannel to rid it of leftover toothpaste. She looks ready to bolt out of the door, fidgeting slightly on the spot, “You promised we could build a tower before bed.”

“And we can,” he reassures, turning the flannel over to wipe the tip of her nose playfully. She crinkles it and reaches up to rub it afterward when he moves to hang it on the laundry basket, “But we’re getting ready for bed first. Hair okay?”

She nods, not entirely convinced that she gets to stay up longer after having brushed her teeth but when Javier has put her toothbrush back in its place in the medicine cabinet, she beams as he allows her to run off to her room. He follows behind, arms stretched out in front of himself, “I’m coming to get you, mija (my daughter)!”

“Nooo!” She squeals in delight, trying to barricade the door with her tiny body but he is too fast and manages to reach her before she can even close it. He picks her up by her middle and holds her upside down, shaking her gently while  she laughs and laughs. 

“Mi monita (my little monkey),” he laughs too. 

They spend half an hour as the architects of a tall and colorful skyscraper, Inés too impatient to see the tower reach her own height to care much for aesthetics. Javier tries suggesting a storyline of a castle but his daughter shakes her head. 

“Stop, Daddy,” she commands and he holds up his hands in surrender. 

“So no princesses live here?” He questions, “Not even a dragon? Or maybe a—” 

“No,” she deadpans, steadfast just like Javier’s father has told him he was. He smiles when she isn’t looking, not about to get scolded by a 4-year-old for not taking their playtime seriously. He enjoys the little moments he has like these, seeing the way his daughter imitates his own behavior in a way that would make your teasing never-ending if you saw it. At that moment, he despises himself and his job because he has to leave sometimes and thus misses out on things. He should have been here when Inés built a tower as tall as herself by herself, not see it in a photograph later. 

Eventually, the construction gets too tall for her to build it even taller. Javier is put to work immediately after she realizes this, and she oversees his work with important nods and looks of assessment. 

“Look, Daddy!” She exclaims with each building block that Javier places on top of another. She stands beside the tower because she needs to compare her height to it, and Javier has to keep a hand on her shoulder to steady her when she gets close to making it tumble down, “Do you think it will reach the ceiling?”

“One day I’m sure it’ll reach the moon,” he replies as if it is a fact, “I for sure am tall enough.”

“No, you’re not,” she furrows her brow, thinking, “But we will just have to get a very big ladder.”

Finally, Javier has built a tower double her size. It stands wobbly on the floor. He nods towards it, “There you go, mi amor (my love), do you want to put the last block on top? The triangular one?” 

She nods and he notices the telltale signs of Inés’ tiredness because her eyes have started drooping. She rubs them with a little sigh, and then holds out her arms so he can pick her up and place her on his hip. 

She places the block carefully on top after Javier hands it to her. It is like all energy reserves have been used up from one moment to another. However, he doesn’t want to risk the unsteady tower falling over in the middle of the night, so he whispers in his most mischievous voice, “Do you want to knock it down?”

“Can I?” She widens her eyes. 

“Sí, pero no se lo digas a tu mamá (yes, but don’t tell your mom),” he confirms, “Perhaps a big angry monkey swung from it whilst roaring like this!”

He imitates King Kong the best he can and is thankful she has no clue what it is, and she repeats after him only to push on the stacked blocks until they tumble to the floor. He kicks the remaining pieces with his foot, and she roars again. They laugh together until she yawns.

“Alright, es hora de dormir (it’s time to sleep),” he announces then, and she doesn’t protest. He shifts her slightly in his arms so she can wrap herself around him with both her arms and legs, burying her face in his shoulder. It’s clear that she has missed him. He rubs her back with both hands before holding her in place, moving towards the bed in the corner of her room. 

Gently, he lays her down and crouches down beside her afterward. He pulls the covers up over her head on purpose and earns a giggle, “Oh no, where did Inés go?”

“You’re silly, Papá,” she says. 

“Go to sleep, baby,” he tells her after tucking her in properly this time, “You are so tired. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you for playing with me,” Inés says with a yawn, turning on her side to look at him better. She softens a little as her eyes start to flutter closed, her father’s hand running over her head. Another yawn comes, “Te quiero, Papá. No me gusta cuando te vas y no me gusta extrañarte (I love you, Dad. I don’t like it when you leave and I don’t like missing you).”

Javier sucks in a breath. He rubs the spot between her eyebrows, trying to keep his composure, “Lo sé, mi vida (I know, my life). I love you too. Sleep well, okay?”

“Okay,” she slurs, and then her breathing slows. He tucks her in one last time, leaning in to kiss her hair softly before stretching carefully to his full height. He makes sure to turn on her night light before turning off the overhead lights, closing the door ever so gently afterward.

He lets out a deep breath right outside her room and smooths two fingers over his mustache. He hasn’t told you about this yet but he is considering quitting his job, has been considering it very seriously since Christmas when he promised to cut down on work significantly to be home a lot more with you and the kids. That and the fact that you are carrying his fourth child, and leaving you home alone with all four in the future just seems cruel.

However, it’s a comment like the one he has just received from his only daughter that sets it in stone. His search for other jobs is not a mere idea any longer but rather a necessity if he wants to continue being happy with his family. 

He has to tell you and he is dying to already, but first, he wants to unpack and then tuck Lucas in too. He has three days of goodnights to catch up on. 

—

He enters Lucas’ room half an hour later to the familiar sound of his son’s Game Boy, its rhythmic beeps and pings accompanied by the frantic tapping on its buttons. Lucas is sitting cross-legged in his bed, already wearing his pajamas and with his face illuminated by the screen of his console. 

“Hey Dad, can you knock? I’m losing my concentration,” his son says without looking up from the screen, already sounding so grown up that Javier has to tighten his grip around the doorknob. Where did the time go? 

“Ay, Lucas,” he tuts and crosses the room to stand by the bed, “Soy tu padre (I’m your father).”

“I just really don’t want to lose,” he explains and starts tapping away on the buttons again, his stare still fixed on the little jumping character. Javier waits for a moment, following his game by looking over his shoulder. 

When enough time has passed and Lucas seems to relax a bit more, he interrupts again, “Alright, time for bed, muchacho (young man).” 

“One more game!” Lucas finally looks up with pleading eyes. The boy sports the same puppy-look in them that you have said Javier does himself, and it was only when he looked into Lucas’ pleading face the first time that he realized what you meant. The look is damn near impossible to say no to. 

“Fine, but I’m taking it afterward unless you promise me not to play all night,” he says firmly, “Even Mario has to sleep at some point.”

“I will!” He reassures quickly, “Only five minutes more, I promise.”

“But I want to talk to you about something first,” he holds out his hand for the gaming console, “Dámelo (Give it to me). It’s important you listen.”

“Am I in trouble?” Lucas reluctantly hands his most precious belonging to his father who places it on the nightstand. 

“What? No, mijo (my son),” Javier gets Lucas under the covers, tucks him in, and then sits down on the edge of the bed, “How would you like it if I got to spend more time at home with you all?”

“What do you mean?” Lucas tilts his head in confusion.

“Can you keep a secret from Mom?” He asks with a gentle smile. Lucas nods. He continues, “I’m quitting my job soon.”

“Really?!” Lucas exclaims with pure shock on his face.

“Shh, your sister and your brother are asleep down the hall,” he shushes, holding a finger in front of his mouth.

“Really?” He whispers instead. 

“Absolutely, really,” Javier whispers back and Lucas’ eyes sparkle with excitement. He sits up in bed, pushing the covers aside to crawl into his father’s arms. Maybe he isn’t so grown up after all. Javier hugs him back and kisses his hair, “I’ve been thinking that spending more time with you, your brother and your sister is what I’ve been missing. I don’t like  leaving you here to be the big boy of the house when I’m not here.”

He continues when Lucas tightens his arms around him. He muses, “And even if I’ll still have a job, there’ll be more time for game nights and football in the garden. Would you like that?”

Lucas nods into his shoulder. Javier chuckles softly, "But remember, es nuestro secreto (it’s our secret) until I talk to Mom about it. We want to make sure she's on board with the plan, yeah?”

Lucas pulls back and nods eagerly, looking like he is already daydreaming of the extra time he'll get to spend with his father. However, there’s a tinge of anxiety in his excitement, and his voice is an unsure whisper when he speaks his concern, "Dad, what if Mom doesn't like the idea? What if she gets upset?"

“She understands how important our family time is. Trust me, te prometo (I promise) everything will be okay," he says with a reassuring smile. 

“But what will your new job be?” Lucas continues, “Will it be something cool?”

“I think I might start teaching people how to catch bad guys like I used to do,” he shrugs.

Lucas grimaces, “You’re gonna be a teacher?”

“Alright, that’s enough,” he laughs, “Bedtime.”

“You said one more game!” He protests. 

Javier gets up to grab the Game Boy off the nightstand. He holds it out for his son and yanks it away when he tries to take it, “One.”

“I promise,” he says and takes it when he is allowed. 

“And your father is actually very cool,” Javier moves to turn off the lights. He can already hear the theme tune of Lucas’ game, “Buenas noches (goodnight).”

“Buenas noches, papá, te quiero,” Lucas beams in the few seconds he looks up. 

“Y yo a tí, mijo (I love you too, my son),” he says and flicks the switch. 

“They’re asleep,” Javier says as he enters the kitchen a few minutes later. He finds you leaning against the counter with a glass of alcohol-free red wine in your hand. The bottle stands on the counter behind you, its contents half-emptied as if it's been your only way of treating yourself in the evenings after the kids have gone to bed. You look tired from having been alone with all three of them - one of them still an infant - for three days and with a secret baby in your belly to top it off. 

Chucho had offered to help you out but you had politely declined so as to not ask for too much of your father-in-law, not be too much of an inconvenience when he has so much to do at the ranch with getting ready for the Spring. 

“I’m about to be too,” you say after a sip of your glass. 

“When I’ve finally gotten you to myself?” Javier tuts and steps closer to you, stopping when he is right in front of you. He checks the baby monitor on the kitchen counter next to the wine bottle and then he takes the glass off your hand, setting it aside as well. 

His hands find your sides afterward, cupping your waist for a moment before they slide around your body so he can pull you in for a long and desperate kiss. You rest your arms on his shoulders, cradling his head as he moves his mouth with yours. It is nothing but pure ecstasy to feel him like this again, so much that you forget to breathe and have to pull away too soon. 

You know he is the same when he sucks a breath in at the same time as you. However, instead of kissing you again, he lets you catch your breath and hugs you close to his chest. His body feels warm, an instant smile forming on your face as he squeezes you. 

“Hi,” you say, sounding drunk despite the wine having no alcohol. His arms are a harbor, the very definition of the end of unhappiness. They’re strong and enough to make your head swim, holding you with the promise of never being apart except for physically. 

You feel his breath against your ear, “Hey, mamá.”

“I’m so glad you’re home with me again,” you close your eyes as you inhale through your nose, letting the scent of him flood your system. 

Javier pulls back and stares at you for a moment. He smirks, a mischievous gleam appearing in his eyes. Then he lets go of you to reach up and teasingly pull down your top to look down into it. 

“Ay, Javi,” you scold with a roll of your eyes. 

“What?” He acts oblivious. 

“You’re acting insane, and I’m trying to be genuine.”

“I haven’t seen you in three days, mi amor (my love), you can’t blame me,” he protests your accusation, “Besides, this is me being very genuine.”

“Missed you too,” you sigh. 

“And I’ve missed you, Jesus,” he wraps his arms around your waist again, pulls you closer to his body, and uses every opportunity to kiss you after each sentence, “Missed these tits. Missed your gorgeous pussy. You gotta let me have it tonight, mamácita.” 

“Take me upstairs then,” you lean your head back when he presses his lips to your throat, “We’re not doing it in the kitchen. Against popular belief.”

Javier snorts, “But we always—“

“I said against popular belief, baby,” you stress. 

“Fine, c’mere then,” his arms slide down over your hips, and when they reach your knees, he scoops you up with his strong arms and lifts you over his shoulder. You answer with a yelp that turns into a panicked laugh but he simply smacks your ass and starts walking. In the middle of the chaos, you manage to reach for the baby monitor on the counter. 

“You are incorrigible,” you say with a dramatic sigh.

“Yes, wife, yes, wife good, I like wife,” he replies in his best caveman accent and you snicker all the way up the stairs, legs dangling over his shoulder and ready to scold him each time he gropes your ass. 

When he throws you down on the bed, you are having a full-on laughing fit and the bubbling in your chest feels so good. Even better, when he looms over you by the end of the bed while unbuttoning his shirt, only to crawl on top of you. He kisses your wine-stained lips, scooping you up into his arms and you return his embrace after throwing the baby monitor on the bed. 

“I love your laugh,” he says softly when he needs a breath, bumping your noses together. 

“You just kidnapped me from the kitchen, that’s no laughing matter,” you tease. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss your neck while you talk. 

“Then why are you giggling like a schoolgirl?” He places a hand on your belly that still keeps a secret between the two of you. No one knows yet. 

There is concentration on his face when his hand moves up under your top, smoothing the fabric up until you stretch your arms above your head to help him rid it off of your body. 

“Hmm,” you think out loud, “Maybe because I have this terrible schoolgirl crush on you.”

“Really? I thought marriage was just a matter of convenience,” he chuckles and kisses your neck again. You lay your hands on his shoulders, smoothing them over the broadness of his bare skin that’s been missing underneath your fingertips and pushing him down towards your chest. 

“This is pretty good too, most convenient,” you note with a grin as he follows your silent order, moving his mouth south on you until he plants kisses between your breasts. You reach underneath your back to undo your bra, and he peels it off of you and sighs with satisfaction as soon as he has your upper body naked. 

“Look at you,” he groans, throwing the bra to the side and diving back into you. He kisses the swell of your right breast, “You make me so fucking horny.”

You throw your head back as he lets the flat of his tongue trail wetly from one breast to the other. He sucks a nipple into his mouth and earns his first moan, to which he presses his clothed crotch into your thigh to show you how hard he is already. 

“I’ve been wet since I saw you at the door,” you admit, “Been thinking of your cock inside of me each night. So fucking lonely without you.”

“You should have called me,” he mutters, mouth going further down on your body until he reaches the hem of your jeans. He undoes the button and zipper, yanking them over your hips and pulling them off your legs. 

“I was too busy screwing myself,” you tell him and he immediately finds your eyes. That clearly hit a spot, “You like that, huh?”

“Tell me about it,” he struggles a little with the jeans as they sit around your ankles, but the desperation has him yanking them off with enough enthusiasm to pull you along. 

“If you weren’t trying to drag me onto the floor— oh, shit.”

Javier has dragged your underwear along with the jeans, and he is now sinking two fingers deep inside of your dripping cunt and pressing them upwards. It’s what you get for being snarky, you suppose, staring down at him as he fucks you open on his digits. 

“Your mouth— ah, put your mouth on me,” you try to command. 

“Quiet down, baby. I literally just put the kids to bed. You want them running in here?” He shushes you with an amused grin, adding a third finger to your squelching cunt to make you groan, “While I’m wearing you like a puppet?” 

You rock against his hand with a chuckle that develops into a moan, “Imagine the conversation that’ll start.”

“I’d rather have a conversation about how filthy you’ve been while I was away,” he speeds up his fingers to make you cry out against your hand but he doesn’t make you come, changing his mind halfway there to follow through on your request, “No, actually I’ll have you monologue about it because I’m going to eat your pussy as you do it.”

You tremble as he takes your clit in his mouth, easing his tongue over the hard nub over and over again whilst timing it with the strokes of his fingers. You feel so full of his digits, and it takes you a moment to trust yourself not to cry at the ceiling the second you remove your hand from your mouth. 

“Took a long shower the day before yesterday, after the kids had gone to school and Seb was napping,” you begin with shaking breaths. You need to start the sentence three times before you can make your words make sense, “Used the faucet on the bathtub and came so goddamn hard. You should’ve seen me with my legs up against the wall.”

Below you, Javier hums in approval and it vibrates through your throbbing pussy. You continue.

“I imagined you going down on me with your warm tongue, circling my clit— yes, just like that,” just talking about it makes you gush from how horny it makes you, wetness dripping past Javier’s lips and into his mouth. He groans against you and mouths at your pulsing clit. You find yourself much closer from how well your body remembers the orgasm you had in the shower; the warm water pounding rhythmically against your clit, your toes curling, and— and. 

You grind into his mouth and fuck yourself on his fingers as you come, the hot and heavy feeling of an orgasm crashing over you and intensifying as it peaks. You have to bite your lip to keep from screaming, still not managing to keep the high-pitched ah! from reverberating through the room. Javier’s fingers feel so much bigger inside of you as your cunt strangles them, and when you look down at him, you see that he is crashing his hips against the bed to feel just a bit of relief. 

You have lost all restraint in your noises as you feel the pleasure ebb out, leaving you a whimpering and panting mess on the bed that wants it all. Somehow you are deeply satisfied at the same time as knowing that this is not enough; you need all of him, and you need him inside of your cunt until you can barely move from the spot. The fact that your body still works when he pulls his fingers from you is an indication of not having had enough. 

“Need to fuck you,” he says from below you, crawling on top of you. He has left a damp spot on the sheets from where his cock has dragged against them, and he looks like he is in pain at this point if he doesn’t get to feel you around him, “Now, mi amor (my love).”

“No,” you stop him as he tries spreading your legs with a gentle yet hurried hand.

“No?” His brows furrow, a protest on the tip of his tongue. 

“Let me ride you,” you beg, already pushing on his shoulders and feeling how he is giving in in an instant, “Please, I want you so deep in me.”

“Yes, yeah, okay,” he breathes, moving to lie on his back with a pillow under his head. You shake as you lift yourself to straddle him, holding out your arms in front of yourself to signal that you want him to be close to you. He reads you without you saying anything and sits up in your bed so you can be chest to chest. 

You reach beneath yourself to take hold of the base of his cock, holding him in place so you can sink down on his shaft until he is buried inside of you to the hilt. You are dripping wet. The motion of engulfing him in your heat is smooth and effortless, and the moans the both of you let out are closer to whines because you are so starved. 

“It’s so good, you’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles quietly in your ear, nosing along the spot behind it. You arch into him, nodding without any words coming to your mind. Instead, you let out a soft gasp as he fucks up into you. 

Nothing describes being this close to him after not even being able to kiss him for three days. Other couples would shake their heads if they knew how desperate you get from merely three days apart. You only feel sorry for them. They don’t get how your days are spent with taking every opportunity to lay eyes on each other, breathe and taste each other or even just being able to put a hand on each other’s shoulder, hip, the small of the back. 

“Let me,” you pant as he moves underneath you, sending you into a state where you need to concentrate if you want to get out a proper sentence, “I want to fuck this cock. Please, let me.”

Javier stills his hips underneath you. He seems to be holding his breath as he watches you place your hands on his shoulders and then feel them slide behind his head to tilt his head backward. He looks up at you as you start moving on him, rocking in his lap so he barely pulls out of you. 

“Come on, that’s a good girl,” he says when he finally sucks in a breath, eyes gazing up at you with a pussydrunk look in them. When they glaze over like this, you know his words will be ravenous and never-ending, “Fuck, baby. That’s it. There you go. Let me touch you so deep inside.”

It doesn’t take long for him to be distracted by your moving chest as you sensually drag your hips over his thick cock. He did tell you that he had missed your breasts but that had been in a slightly playful manner; you never thought that you would actually start to feel beautiful under his hungry eyes. It shouldn’t come as a shock to you because he always knows how to make you feel desirable. 

“Attagirl,” he groans, holding your hip tightly with his right hand to help you keep your balance, “God, look at those pretty tits.”

You arch your back as he puts his other hand on your left breast, bending his head down to mouth along the swell until he reaches your nipple. He swirls his tongue once but it is too hard to keep going when you move more frantically on top of him to pleasure yourself, so instead, he wraps his whole mouth around the hardened, spit-slicked peak and sucks until your cunt clamps down in surprise of how good it feels.

“Fuck,” you pant, closing your eyes. The noises of him sucking on your breasts fill your ears and along with how it is making your belly swirl, it makes you impossibly wetter, coating his dick in a milky-white ring. A lewd thought enters your mind. Perhaps, he keeps knocking you up because of this; your cup size has remained the same for a while because you’ve been breastfeeding for months now, and with another baby on its way, you know that the months will keep adding up in the near future.

A drop slips into his mouth and spurs him on to give you a thorough taste. Your brows pull together as a more high-pitched moan leaves your open mouth and he pulls back to shush you gently. Then he sucks greedily again. 

You had once asked him why he loved this, and he had replied that the very fact that you were producing milk so sweet to nurture his child went straight to his dick. 

“Javi,” you whine to tell him just how you feel. He removes his mouth from your sensitive chest to talk, albeit reluctantly. However, when he notices the change in your sounds and your pitch, he doesn’t want to look away from your face again until he has seen you lose it. 

“Oh, you wanna come, huh? Then fuck me,” he says with milk-stained lips. You move desperately in his lap as he spurs you on, feeling the head of his cock dragging back and forth inside of you, laying against your g-spot perfectly if you tilt your hips just a bit. Javier’s eyes burn as they stare up at you but he cannot help himself from occasionally glancing down at your bouncing tits. Your need to come grows, and when you press down slightly harder, you see stars behind your eyelids. A second orgasm tears through you, and one of the hands that has gripped your hip hard enough to bruise comes up to cover your mouth because you start screaming. It’s so intense to have missed him so much. 

“There she is,” he growls lowly, watching your face contort with pleasure until tears slide down your face and underneath his palm that’s tightly secured over your whining mouth, “That’s my good girl. You know how to come on this fucking cock, fuck, you feel so good, mi vida (my life), choking my dick. Keep going— no no, don’t stop, ride through it, baby.”

You force yourself to continue moving and keep crying into his hand, wet from drool and tears by now. The oversensitivity is mind-numbing, toe-curling, and somehow still not enough.

“Almost made me come, mi chica sucía y desesperada (my dirty, eager girl),” he says through a breathless chuckle but then raises his brows as your pitch starts climbing once again. You have successfully bypassed your body and started building up another high, “You’re gonna come again? Díos mio (my God), my beautiful wife is insatiable.”

Any chance of talking back at him is lost because you would wake up the whole neighborhood if he dared remove his hand from your mouth. To put his filthy mouth in its place, you start bouncing in his lap to the point where his naked thighs crash harshly into your ass. The sound of skin slapping against skin is dirty but Javier’s desperate groans are obscene. He can barely talk now without his voice wavering, and with the way he repeats himself, you know he is doing everything in his power to let you come one more time before he bursts, “Use my cock, yes like that. K-keep going— you’re gonna make me come. Oh fuck.” 

When he notices that you are trying to say something, he removes his hand and allows you a single sentence before clamping the hand down over your mouth again. 

“I can’t do it anymore,” you whimper with exhaustion, thighs having started to tremble with the effort you are putting into bouncing in his lap. They hurt at this point, straining despite how much you also use your arms to steer yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Go until you can’t fucking do it anymore and I’ll take over, yeah?” He nods at you when you make a mhm-noise into his hand, eyes encouraging and his breaths less composed. 

When you come a second time on his dick, you falter immediately. The sensation of the pleasure that has built up so fast again crashes down and takes you with it in its fall. You are silent when it’s teetering on the edge, and then it makes your voice crack when you feel the first tug behind your throbbing clit. 

There is only the feeling of your convulsing cunt making you believe in a higher power - in this case, Javier fucking Peña - and then said higher power wrapping his arm around your sticky back to lift you up and down. He snaps his hips upwards to use your body for his own pleasure, and after a series of frantic movements, he comes with a groan. The feeling of his warm spill inside of you has you whimpering, and you try your best to rock your hips the best your exhausted body can. If it weren’t for all the dopamine in your system, you are sure it would hurt. 

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes. Oh, baby, fuck the come out of me, yes, that’s it,” he chants underneath you as he fills you up, moving to meet you halfway until he also has no more to give.  When he stills, he grabs your face to smash your lips together in a messy, desperate kiss that is more teeth than anything else. It feels impossible to get close enough to him, even if your chests stick together from sweat.

A moment later, you fall down onto his chest with a chuckle, head swimming from what you have just done. Your arms lie on either side of his head, and your cheek is pressed into his hair. You can feel his nose dig into your shoulder, inhaling you and your post-sex scent, and his arms tighten around your waist as he hugs you close. 

“That was fantastic,” you groan with him still inside of you. He gives you one more thrust, pressing his hips upwards, and you half-moan in oversensitivity and half-laugh in surprise, “Stop it, Peña.”

He laughs breathlessly, placing a kiss on your bare skin. Then he slips out of you with a grunt, and you feel his come drip from you already, down onto his cock and thighs. He rubs your sides with his broad hands, “I have missed you as well, you know.”

“I don’t ever want you to go again,” you demand sillily. 

“You say that every time.”

“I mean it every time.”

There’s a pause between the two of you. It lasts several minutes where you just lie on top of his chest. 5, 10, 15 minutes pass. Javier says nothing yet you know him well enough to know that he is considering his words. 

“I was thinking of something,” he finally says. 

You sit up at that, “What?” 

“You know how I said something about work during Christmas? That I wanted to be more home with you and the kids, that it would make me happier?” He begins, looking up at you and not hesitating in his eye contact with you. 

You suddenly pay a lot more attention, “Yeah?”

“I was thinking that since I will have a bunch of kids to carry around a lot more years from now, I can’t be running around in the force anymore. My back is fucking killing me, and I also want to make love to my wife on the regular,” he tells you and you know instantly that it’s serious even if he says it with a chuckle, “I was thinking of teaching at the local college. They have a criminology course, and with my time in school with my head in the books - I mean, my bachelor’s degree - it shouldn’t be a problem to get a job there.”

“Are you serious?” You gape at him. 

“Yes, of course, I am,” he furrows his brow slightly. Only now, he looks unsure but still keeps talking, “It would mean nothing of this sort either; me going away.”

“Babe, that’s amazing,” you fall down into him again, causing an umph-noise from your husband, and then you crash your lips into his. You kiss him as if your life depended on it, sliding your fingers through his dark hair and tugging slightly as if trying to get him even closer to you. 

He looks drunk and disheveled when you pull back again, a goofy and satisfied smile on his face. His fingers scratch slightly along your back, “You’d like that, huh?”

“Yes, please,” you beam with happiness. 

“Then you shall have it, mi vida (my life),” his hands travel down to your ass which he gropes obscenely, and when you make a noise, he smacks your right cheek. You feel his cock, hard again, poke into your thigh.

You look down between you, “This is a surprise. I thought you’d gotten old…”

“Like I said…” He grabs your waist and pulls you down to lie on your back. A yelp escapes your lips. 

He is inside of you mere seconds after, causing you to longingly whine. He thrusts once then twice, and you throw your head back to take it, “…I’ve missed you.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[mythalsknickers]

The Bullying and Doxxing

This has been edited to clarify my points 6.6.2025

It has taken me longer than I would like to put this into words, due to life giving me all the good things I have been working for at once. I am going to make this abundantly clear for everyone.

What happened to Idontevenlikedragonage should have never happened. Not because we are all rainbows and toxic positivity, but rather we as a community should never allow people to feel comfortable enough that they can dox someone. In my thirty one years of existence there has been one cardinal rule of the internet.

If you dont like something or someone's take ignore it.

At the end of the day we all like engaging with media be it on a hyper critical way or on the barest amount of engagement. However it does not matter if it is a survey, an analysis, or someone's opinion. You do not need to escalate to bullying them off the internet and doxxing.

This is different for real beliefs that translate beyond the videogame space such as Zionism, TERF ideologies, White Supremacy, Racism etc. That being said the more engagement you give a piece the bigger platform they have. The best strategy I have seen across social media platforms is blocking and not engaging period.

DOXXING IS ILLEGAL.

The fact this was done on Anon, very clearly illustrates that they know what they are doing is wrong, and they do not want to face the consequences of their actions. However, I am ultimately not surprised as to date to my knowledge this fandom has done the following;

Bullied Jenifer Hepler off the Internet

My fandom knowledge has said this was due to the alleged character assassination of Anders. However someone did bring up Proto-gamergate and while I am still looking into the events leading to her being doxxed and her family threatened but it is possible for these two things to exist in the same space and time. It is still bullying and harassment.

Disclaimer: Her TERF and Zionism ideologies are not condoned

Bullied David Gaider, Mike Laidlaw, Trick Weekes, and John Epler into Locking their Accounts Multiple Times.

I am specifically referencing a group of Solavellan enjoyers known as Sollavellan Wives due to their alarming similarity to Snape Wives from the Harry Potter Franchise. To MY KNOWLEDGE this does not include anyone with nuanced versions of Lavellan, or Solavellans who are capable of disagreeing with the the creators but remaining rational about it. Additionally this comes to mind about Emmerich sleeping like a giraffe or Solas having a breeding kink, the devs are allowed to have fun, they are allowed to not like a character they write. I will be real as a budding novelist and fanfiction author I legitimately do not like some of my characters. I have a character who I literally mentally shake like a maraca because they keep changing what they want. At the end of the day though this does not change my dedication for my characters or the work I will put in to see that their voice is heard.

Hate mobbed A WOC author for her portrayal of Vivienne, using the fic as an example of systemic violence against WOC characters, and Improper Tagging.

Bullied Voice Actors and Devs for having different opinions on the characters.

Bullied Concept Artists for releasing concept art.

Y'all need to learn to enjoy life and nature more, I am tired of seeing creators and people who simply enjoy the game bullied for daring to have a different opinion. There is a difference between bigotry and use of stereotypes and someone genuinely having an opinion for no reason that the media you consumed is not great. The above actions are not the fault of the victims but rather the so called alleged fans who decided to bully them off the internet. Congratulations you are as bad as the Star Wars Fandom and that is not a compliment.

DA is what you make it, Veilguard is what you make it.

I have been in this franchise since ye-olden days and I have enjoyed every minute of it. I have also actively enjoyed Veilguard to the point it is competing with my UNMODDED Inquisition run on XBOX for playable hours, mind you this was when you had to leave the machine on and the game running for the Wartable to it's thing.

Also if by some miracle I have mutuals or followers/following that are contributing to this bullying and doxxing bullshit in the fandom. Please do reach out and let me know. They do not speak for my beliefs or opinions. Fandom should be our place from the world to take our selves less seriously, and enjoy the media we all love.

Racists, TERFS, Zionists, and those practicing other forms of Bigotry please exit stage left. You are not welcome here.

[steveseddie]

of movie nights and holding hands

rating: t | cw: none apply | word count: 1,841

tags: eddie munson lives, eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington, holding hands, getting together, first kiss

for the @steddielovemonth prompt “love is asking ‘do you want a blanket?’” by @thefreakandthehair

a/n: i liked this prompt so much that i wrote two fics for it! enjoy!

click here to read on ao3

***

Eddie tries hard to focus on the movie.

It shouldn’t be that hard since Top Gun is supposed to be a good movie. Tonight was the first time since movie nights at the Harrington residence became a thing that an argument didn’t break out amongst the group when they had to choose what to watch. Everyone just agreed. And even if the movie didn’t turn out to be good, Eddie would never waste the opportunity to ogle Tom Cruise for an hour and fifty minutes.

Except he is because, for the last thirty-two minutes, Eddie’s focus has been solely on Steve.

This isn’t the first time they sit next to each other during movie nights. More and more lately, they tend to gravitate toward the other whenever they hang out, and Eddie loves this as much as he hates it.

He loves being close to Steve, being able to whisper to him or touch him, or lean against him. But he hates how it makes him feel. How it makes his palms sweat or goosebumps appear on his skin. He hates it because he can’t let Steve know. Steve might’ve been cool about Eddie being gay and he’s cool with Eddie being touchy and loud and basically too much, but Eddie doesn’t think he’ll be cool with him having a huge hopeless crush on him.

(He probably would, though, because Steve is a good guy, the best guy Eddie knows, and he would let Eddie down easy and make sure nothing changes between them, but Eddie would still feel rejected and they might still end up drifting apart because he can’t handle that.

And Eddie would rather go against another army of Demobats than lose Steve.)

So Eddie tries hard to pay attention to the movie and be normal about the fact that Steve is basically sitting on top of him tonight.

They didn’t start the night like that. At first, it was just Steve, Eddie, and Robin on the couch with plenty of space to sit comfortably. But then Max and Lucas got into an argument- a childish quarrel really- that will probably be forgotten by the end of the night, but still she demanded that they open a spot for her on the couch since she didn’t want to sit with Lucas and the others on the floor anymore. To do that, Steve had to move closer to Eddie, pushing him against the arm of the couch and trapping him between it and his body. Max sits cross-legged next to him which leaves Steve with little to no room for his legs, so one of his thighs overlaps with Eddie’s, same with their arms. And of course, Eddie, who always dresses in multiple layers, decided to only wear a shirt and his battle vest tonight, meaning that his bare arm is touching Steve’s and every time he so much as wiggles trying to get comfortable, a shudder runs through Eddie’s spine.

He thinks Steve is too focused on the movie to notice, but halfway through it, he feels Steve shift closer (and how does he keep getting even closer?) and whisper right into Eddie’s, making the hairs on his neck stand up. “Do you want a blanket, Eds?”

“What?” Eddie asks. It comes out as a squeak. So much for acting normal.

“You keep shivering. Are you cold? Do you want a blanket?”

The thing is Eddie isn’t cold. Eddie feels warm all over actually, but he can’t tell Steve that the reason why he keeps shuddering or why he’s getting goosebumps is him.

So he says, “Uh, yeah. I could use a blanket.”

He expects Steve to get up so he can get it or to tell Eddie where to find one. Instead, he lifts the blanket that he placed across his lap when the movie started and drapes it across Eddie’s body too, shifting even closer to him.

“Better?” Steve asks with a sweet smile. Bless his clueless heart.

Eddie wants to scream “No, it’s not!” but instead, he just gives him a shaky smile that he hopes looks genuine and nods. Then he shoves his hands under the blanket so he can anxiously play with his rings without Steve noticing, feeling restless and jumpy at having Steve so close. After a moment, he sees Steve do the same out of the corner of his eye. Maybe his hands are cold.

Steve stays still after that, and Eddie can somewhat focus on the movie.

That is until he feels Steve’s pinkie finger brush against his under the blanket.

When it does, Eddie yelps, his leg jerking and kicking Lucas who sits on the floor right in front of him. He feels Steve withdraw his hand like he got burned.

“Dude!” Lucas protests.

“Sorry, Sinclair, uh. Muscle spasm,” Eddie mutters. The other kids give him weird looks but thankfully they go back to the movie.

Whispering so he doesn’t bother the others, Steve says, “Uh, sorry. It was- uh, it was an accident.”

“All good, Steve-o.”

Steve gives him a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and Eddie gets the feeling that he’s lying, but then it would mean that his hand touching Eddie’s wasn’t an accident, but a deliberate move.

But why?

Glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, he notices that Steve looks nervous. He’s biting his bottom lip and there’s a divot between his eyebrows, his cheeks are also tinted bright pink.

So Eddie thinks, fuck it! and moves his hand under the blanket, hooking his pinkie finger with Steve’s.

Steve’s reaction is definitely more subdued than Eddie’s was, but Eddie still hears him gasp. He glances at Eddie, big doe eyes wide and a little hopeful, and Eddie feels like throwing up because holy shit, Steve Harrington was, in fact, deliberately trying to touch his hands and now their pinkies are linked. If it weren’t for the fact that the blanket offers them the cover that they need to do this, Eddie would toss it away. He feels like could burst into flames any minute.

Soon, it’s not just their pinkies touching. Soon, the tip of Steve’s remaining fingers find Eddie’s. He waits for a second, probably to see if Eddie is gonna jump again, but when he doesn’t, Steve tangles their fingers together and gives Eddie’s hand a little squeeze. And Eddie wants to scream, he wants to melt into the couch, he wants to kiss Steve, the kids and Robin be damned.

He doesn’t. He stays still except for his thumb which starts rhythmically stroking over Steve’s knuckles. Eddie hears his breath catch and sees his blush spreading up to his ears. At least he’s not the only one affected by this.

Neither of them is paying attention to the movie at this point, too focused on playing with each other’s hands and biting down on their dopey smiles.

Eddie doesn’t want it to end. He doesn’t want this bubble that they created under this blanket to burst. He’s afraid Steve won’t want to hold Eddie’s hand ever again if it does.

But eventually, the movie does end. The end credits start to roll and the kids spring to their feet, stretching and talking excitedly about the movie. Eddie hopes they don’t ask him anything about it, he couldn’t tell them the names of three characters if he tried.

“Did you like it?” Steve asks quietly.

“The- movie?”

Steve’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “I think we both know you didn’t pay attention to the movie, Eds.”

Eddie feels the blood that rushes to his cheeks at being called out. “Well, I was distracted,” he murmurs, thumb flicking over Steve’s knuckle one more time just to see Steve’s eyes widen a little and his lips part.

“Yeah? By what?” He asks, his voice sounding a little strained to Eddie’s ears.

“A pretty boy holding my hand.”

Steve whines low in his throat. Eddie is glad that the kids are being loud and that they’re focused on each other instead of them.

He continues, “Which I liked. A lot. And uh- I would like to do it again.”

“Me too,” Steve says with a shy smile. God, Eddie wants to kiss him stupid.

“Eddie!”

He jumps when Max calls his name. He and Steve both let go of each other’s hand at the same time, but keep them under the blanket.

“What?”

Max’s eyes roll to the back of her head. “The movie is over? We have to leave now if we want to make it home before curfew.”

“Oh. Sure thing, Mad Max.”

She narrows her eyes at him and Eddie tries to look innocent, not like he spent the last eighty minutes holding another boy’s hand. He’s not so sure that he nails it.

Together, they quickly gather the blankets and the pillows and stuff them into the hallway closet. With Nancy skipping tonight’s movie night and Robin still having no license, it’s up to Eddie to drop everyone off, and unless they leave right now, they’re gonna be late like Max said.

That doesn’t stop Eddie from running back to the house after everyone already piled up inside the van, claiming that he forgot something.

After he knocks on the door, Steve opens it with a confused frown that melts into a smile when he sees Eddie.

“Did you forget something, Munson?”

“I did actually,” Eddie says and for the second time that night, he thinks fuck it! and surges forward, pushing his lips against Steve’s in a quick kiss.

Steve yelps, but Eddie feels the softest press of lips from him before he backs away.

Before Eddie can spiral because oh, god he just kissed Steve, Steve is grabbing him by the lapels of his vest and pulling him toward him. They both stumble back into the house a couple of steps, just enough so they’re hidden from view and Steve can kiss Eddie for longer and a little more forcefully this time.

“Do you want to come over tomorrow?” Steve asks when they pull apart.

“To watch a movie?” He asks. Steve licks his lips and Eddie’s eyes track the movement. “Or not watch a movie?”

Steve smirks. “The second one.”

Eddie nods enthusiastically. “It’s a date,” he says with a grin that Steve mirrors.

They jump when the horn of his van blares, probably waking up a few of Steve’s neighbors.

Eddie makes a face. “Gotta go or the brats are gonna be late.”

“Drive safe,” Steve says, giving the vest a little tug.

“Always do, Stevie,” he says, giving him a two-fingered salute. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow, Eds,” Steve says with a dopey smile. Eddie starts walking backwards.

And if he trips on the steps because he’s too busy watching Steve and almost falls on his ass, then at least it’s just Steve who sees it.

And at least, he does it with a sweet smile painted on his puffy pink lips that Eddie just kissed.

[toxicanonymity]

When you engage with confessions accts, you're encouraging this kind of parasocial hater behavior

Note added for context: A "confessions" account has been posting anon hate mostly toward writers in the pedro pascal fandom. A parasocial hater of mine discovered it and has been going to town. I posted this after a revolting analogy they used (screenshot at bottom of post).

Obviously I am disgusted that anyone would post such a deranged analogy just to stir up fandom drama. FYI many of these are from the same individual who has been fixated on me for a while and i know others have their stalkers too. We block them but when a "confessions" acct is active, they have a platform. I'm sorry to everyone who has been attacked.

warning: hate, trivialization of abuse & genocide, gross stuff.

the screenshots below are all from after I blocked this person

I normally don't address things like this, but that's only because I'm trying to keep it off your dash and off my blog for reasons including not wanting to give the hater a larger audience for their message. Normally I block/delete. But thanks to a blog dedicated to posting anon hate, some of this is already on the dash, and additional context could be illuminating.

a couple weeks ago, this person chimed in on my non-fandom post, and their comment made me uncomfortable. Their blog tagline was antagonistic. They weren't being earnest. I checked to see if they followed me, and they didn't. I wrongly assumed they followed me from a main account since they were commenting on an un-tagged, un-reblogged post. I replied, taking issue with their comment and asking them to keep their thoughts to themselves rather than coming at me from a sideblog. But I now realize they were simply hate checking my blog.

These first ones are from their burner after I blocked the account that started it:

(Blocked the burner too)

They were saying this last bit preemptively - I've never talked about stalkers here until this post you're reading rn. I didn't include all their anons in this post, just enough to show they clearly out themselves as being the same person.

Sometimes they will act like they're laughing and pretend to be multiple people. They also sent asks targeting att*********h and made comments off-anon before she deactivated this wk. In other asks they use large font to praise a former writer (jr****t) and insult everyone else - they sent one of these off-anon and reblogged another.

This post i'm making may only make it worse idk. I want to trust people not to automatically believe and repeat accusations, but my experience leaves me pessimistic.

I won't be dropping this creep's url in this post: This week they have repeatedly changed their url anyway, along with their display name and blog appearance. I had never heard of them.

Now the ask that prompted this post, idk if it's the same person or not but they def sent multiple asks

Note the "our" 🙄 typical hate stalker tactic pretending to be more than 1 person. I used to get "we are laughing" asks after like every post I made.

I haven't included nearly all the hate in this post, only the last one which crossed the line pushing me to make this post and all the others to illustrate how one person can go so wild. In other posts, I was sexualized without my consent (TOS violation) and it was really gross. And then miscellaneous hate.

Note - yes you can share this if you want. It's already out there anyway. Also feel free to DM for the known urls but do NOT contact them / rile them up.

Update - the anon-hate account referred to above, pedgeconfessions, has deactivated after violating multiple TOS including doxxing (not of me) which can put people in real world danger. It wasn't the first such acct this summer and may not be the last.

[gerry-the-archivist]

asks are open!

(please read this post before interacting!)

hey, er- gerard delano. he/they. friends call me gerry.

i'm the head archivist of the magnus institute, unfortunately. i take statements, investigate them, do organization, all that, since… it's my job now. well- not really, this isn't really a real job... but i still do them. need to.

i doubt that elias would let me just fuck around on this blog and do whatever, but i also hate the guy, and the job, so. feel free to ask and tell me whatever you want. i don't care.

my assistants- jon, martin, tim, and sasha- pop in from time to time. oh and— cam (@cam-eye-intern) too, i suppose. they’re an intern, which. i didn’t know we did! you can say hi to all of them and whatnot, just respect them.

so... yeah, that's.. that's all. i'm just...

dammit why'd i take this fucking job—

ooc:

hihihi! you may notice, if you were here before the pause, that this is a new pinned post! i've updated it to be more organized and all that :} here’s the old one if you want to see it

anyway so. hello hi, i'm @iiinkos, and i run this blog :D i also run the rp blogs @a-thousand-little-things (my 3 avatar ocs) and @sonja-artefact-storage (previous head of artefact storage, still works there)

rules:

- flirting is allowed, but it isn’t likely to go anywhere.

- forming a romantic relationship with not allowed, i dunno how romance works. qpr maybe allowed? don’t quote me on that, i might change this. just want to try it out. this gerry is uranic tho, so no women or fem-aligned. also please dm me if you are planning on starting a qpr

- no sexual content, or suggestive, or anything like that.

- you’re allowed to interact with old posts, or start a new rp, or interact even if you aren’t an rp blog, or anything like that.

- magic anons allowed, except during big lore stuff, or if you’re trying to completely screw over the current timeline.

- please regard the different versions of gerry (explained below) before interacting.

info:

- current point in this au’s canon timeline: beginning of s1. nothing of note has happened yet other than everyone getting hired.

- the multiple versions of gerry

so: there's gonna be multiple versions of gerry that you'll be able to interact with anytime, regardless of what point in the timeline the blog is currently in. there’s timeline gerrys, and there’s default gerry.

default gerry falls under the tag archivist gerry. basic but i’m not about to replace all of his tags w/ default gerry because that’s a lotta posts. anyway, default gerry is timeline-less, dealing with the fears and doing his own thing gerry. just the same guy you guys have been interacting with pre-pause. able to take in spoilers, just going along with stuff. he's the one that, if there's no specifications about which gerry you're talking to, will be talking to you. thus, default gerry!

timeline gerrys are a part of the canon, ongoing overarching plot for this au. they’re part of the timeline, which is why they’re timeline gerrys :)

s1 gerry falls under the tag the unwanted continuation. called this because in this au, gerry was never meant to survive the cancer but was “saved” by elias so he could become the archivist. he also very much did not want this, so. it’s an unwanted continuation :D anyway, this gerry’s going to be a lot more sick of shit than default gerry. he will also have canon plotline stuff going on, so stick around for that!

for anyone who has interacted with gerry before the pause (5/14/2025): this one has not met any of you yet. do with that what you will :3

there will be other timeline gerrys in the future, for different seasons and whatnot. stay tuned for that :)

when interacting, please specify which gerry you are about to interact with.

one way you can do this by leaving a small note at the end of an ask. for example:

“hey how’s archiving going

(for *insert version of gerry here*)”

when using this method, you can either specify with the version (eg. default gerry, s1 gerry), the tag used for that gerry (eg. archivist gerry, the unwanted continuation), or, in some cases, a point in the timeline (eg. post *insert event that happened*)

another method is to mention something specific that happened to a gerry within the ask. for example:

“why did you glitterbomb elias on april fools??”

this one is specific to default gerry, since no other gerry has glitterbombed elias on april fools. both this method and the previous can be used simultaneously. i would prefer if you use the first method since it’s more specific, but using the second is fine. if you think of other methods, let me know! hope this makes sense :)

if your ask is not specified, it will automatically go to default gerry.

HOWEVER: the only exception for not is if there is an ongoing huge lore event, such as a season finale. i will specify that there is an ongoing lore event at the top of this post in large text. also, during the event, all asks or interactions specified for other gerrys will likely be ignored until after the event is completed.

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO GIVE ANY TIMELINE GERRY SPOILERS. this includes shit like "jonah is in elias' body", "the web is planning on spreading to other universes", "leitner in tunnels", "the apocalypse can't succeed", “____ got not!them'd" (unsure if that'll still be the case), etc. if anyone tries to tell him what's up, even if it is specified towards a specific gerry, it'll either be deleted or immediately go to default gerry. the only exceptions are if the asks are intended not to be taken seriously (eg. that one time when an anon was like "GERRY THAT'S NOT SASHA (gets dragged away screaming)"), or if that event has already been covered.

- masterposts

general big posts where major info is collected

masterpost: the unwanted continuation

masterpost: non canon plot points

masterpost: gerry info

other info:

- @cam-eye-intern (by @kaydenbreachedcontainment) is now part of this universe! specifically timeline cam :) go check them outtt

you are always allowed to ask me (the mod) if you have any questions! or just tell me shit lol :D you’re also allowed to go in dms to plan out plot point stuff and whatnot :)

have fun!

mod uses they/them

[emmett6]

i am being attacked by antis.

this is emmett. emmettnet, emmettverse, emmettland, emmettundead, emmettlab. whichever blog you knew me from.

i am a whump creator. i've been in the whump community for a few years now. and now, i am unable to share my work with the community on here because people are mass reporting me for being a proshipper, and Tumblr keeps deleting my blogs as a result.

(if that isn't the reason why, i would be more than happy to get the explanation from @staff that i've been asking for.)

now, that is speculation on my part based on the timing of each termination (it's after i put my pinned post in the whump tags).

but here are the facts:

months ago, i became comfortable enough to share proshipping content. seeing as how every other artist would link their nsfw work on here, i thought it was acceptable for me to do the same so long as the preview image did not violate any rules.

an anon asked if i was a proshipper, and i said i didn't ascribe to that label*, but i agreed with the philosophy.

*i don't have any choice BUT to use it now because my posts get removed for describing what the content is

note that this anon asked multiple people in the whump community if they were proshippers. it was the same person each time, same copy-and-pasted responses.

i kept posting my proshipping content, all with links and extensive content warnings.

i started getting anon hate.

my account was terminated. after further reflection and rereading the terms of service AGAIN, i figured maybe links are not allowed and so i switched to DM only.

this time, the anon hate was consistent. every week was something new. every day felt like bracing myself to open my inbox. i kept anon on, since i have so many people who feel uncomfortable sending asks off anon and didn't want to take away their safe space.

months pass. i go on hiatus for all of July. i find out someone stole my old nsfw art and reposted their edited versions of it to rule34, a site that i never wanted my work to be on. this person waited until the exact starting day of my hiatus to do this.

i come back to more anon hate in my inbox.

suddenly, out of nowhere, my account is terminated again.

i make a new blog. more anon hate. another termination.

lather, rinse, repeat.

i stopped doing DM only stuff. i figured, if i just link my other platforms and only post safe things on Tumblr, there's nothing in the rules against that. everyone has links to their social media.

i still get terminated. and again, i keep getting terminated after i post my pinned post in the whump tags. which -- speculation again -- leads me and others to think that these antis are stalking the whump tags, waiting for me to show up so they can mass report me and get me terminated.

i have NO idea what they would report, aside from claiming i'm trying to "dodge being blocked". which, i'm not. in fact, i say every single time i come back that i WANT people to block me if they need to.

but regardless, it keeps happening.

i'm losing a place i considered home.

i'm being forced out of a community on here i love so dearly.

and you want to know something funny? for some strange reason, i'm unable to block my anons. yup. an 'error' message comes up. and i'm apparently unable to report them too -- like reporting the one who called me a 'tumblr tranny' and said i would 'always be a woman' for hate speech. oops, sorry. error message.

by now, i've been called evil. told to listen to my intrusive thoughts. told that i should be on a watch list. told that it's disgusting that someone's mutuals still interact with me. told that i have no place in the whump community.

i know that's not true.

i'm so sick and tired of being treated like this. i'm tired of being dehumanized. and i'm disgusted with this behavior.

at this point, i'm just screaming as many times as i can. i'll keep losing blogs, because i know my attackers will read this and just keep on reporting me. what do they have to lose? nothing. they don't have enough of a conscience to care. and why should they? clearly, i'm a monster. i'm a piece of shit. i don't deserve basic respect, and i apparently don't deserve to keep my 'platform'. to stay in my community and to keep my livelihood.

my discord is emmettnet. send me a DM if you don't want to lose me, because there is no point in following me repeatedly just for every blog to be terminated.

if you want to reblog this to spread the word and show your support, i would be eternally grateful. but i understand if you choose not to; i don't want anyone to be subjected to what i'm going through.

thank you for reading.

[dirtylittlefairytales]

Don't play with fire | - Part 1 - |

Authors Note: Hey. This is my first try ever writing in English, since it's not my first language. I read it over several times, hopefully to correct all mistakes. Also this is the first try of fanfiction since 2016. Sooo I appreciate feedback and let me know what you think.. Please be kind. 🙏🥹

Originally I wanted to write a short backstory, but I think it’s just going to be multiple parts if you want to read it. So see this as a kind of introduction. In further chapters I wanted to try myself to write my smut fantasies out. I'm also going to upload this later to Ao3 under the username Lorily96.

-> Writing in 'italic' is supposed to be the your thoughts

Warnings: Describing of a Panic attack, Age Gap (Legal)

Word count: 8k

Tagging: @a-movie-that-youve-never-seen, @amethystblackkchaos, @hereforthehitsbaby

Some people say life is a cruel joke. Unexpected twists and pain waiting around every corner. Some people say the glass is never empty and everything happens for a reason. You can learn from anything.  Everyone you meet is either there for a reason, for a season or... for ever. However the world is not black and white, sometimes there is no reason at all. You know how you sometimes laugh when something bad happens to a stranger or friend. Like their ice cream falling to the ground, seeing a cop writing a ticket for somebody else. I think ‘Life’ itself is bored just like us. That's why sometimes you feel like it’s only getting worse. Doesn’t matter what you do, there is no luck to be found. That's exactly how you felt that day. Just strings of bad luck and to this day you still question yourself. Why? Why didn’t you say something? Why did you do it? Why didn’t you walk away? How did all of this happen in the first place? The events of that day living rent-free in your head, keeping you up at night.

~ Sometimes Life has a dark and twisted humor. ~

All those overprotective dads, who only want the best for their daughter. Your dad was one of them. He always told you: "Be wary of strangers", "Never tell someone your name if you feel something is off", “Go with your gut feeling” and "don't go near the car of a stranger". Seriously, he had good points.

Unfortunately, he didn’t tell you what to do, when you suspect someone is a serial killer. Maybe running or keeping your nose out of the situation would have been a great option. Well, since daddy had been out of the picture since you were 12, maybe he would have some kind of advice for that. Your mom had found out he was cheating, and after the divorce, he cared more about his new girlfriend and son than you. Why care about the daughter you raised for 12 years, your beloved wife, when you can just throw it away and play happy family with the next woman you find.

At times, you wonder if that's the reason you had some kind of daddy issues. Perhaps you liked older men like him because of that. Even today, his face still haunts and excites you at the same time. Remembering how drawn you were to him. He was so charming and devilishly handsome. You felt sick and appalled at yourself for feeling this way. Everything he did, seemed to play into his hands. Who would suspect the nice and charming dad next door? How many times did you lay awake in bed at night, the events of that day replaying themselves over and over. Like a continuous loop with no escape… 

It felt like yesterday. The only reason you were at the concert in the first place was because one of the other guys quit a week before. You couldn’t even blame him, since your boss was a total dick. Ever since you started working in the company a year ago he was just looking for a reason to fire you. Always criticizing you, commenting when your bathroom break was too long. Wore a skirt? Too provocative. Wore a sweater? Be more professional. You could make a whole list of the things he pulled off. You fucking hated working in that place and even more to work outside or around many people. You chose to work in IT because you could work alone and in peace. 

Outside of work, you were a relatively social person. Many friends and people seemed to like you. Despite preferring to rather stay home alone, with your cat and books, you were surprisingly good at making conversations. It felt strange, kind of ironic. Life had a stupid sense of humor. Sometimes you even felt like you were good at reading people. Your mom called it your sixth sense.

Working at the arena for the concert was a real hassle. It was so stressful. Over a week before the actual concert there was already a meeting. Everybody working in the stadium that night was there. They didn’t reveal too much that day. Apparently the whole concert was also a trap for this serial killer? 

They called him - The Butcher 

You remember hearing and reading about him in the news. He had killed 12 people till now and the FBI was sure he was going to show up there. Everything was top secret, everyone had an extra card for controls during that day and a code word. On the day of the concert you arrived extra early to get the last directions for the day. They even told you what he potentially could look like.

Work was boring. The company you were working for was responsible for ensuring that all the screens, cameras were working, both on the outside and on the stage, that the wifi was stable and so on… not the hardest task. There also were others who ensured the overall technology and speakers worked, but that wasn’t your job. Most of the time you and your colleague were sitting backstage, talking shit about your boss and listening to the show, at least you were, because lovely colleague Eric would do most of the stuff alone. What a sweetheart, right?

It felt a bit bad taking advantage of him. You knew he had a big crush on you, he wasn’t exactly hiding it. Relaxing backstage appealed more to you. Therefore it was totally fine with your conscience. This job was a pain in the ass and you already started applying for new jobs. You just had to hang on for a few more weeks. Hoping you could quit soon and work in a non toxic environment.

The first half of the concert remained uneventful. Fortunately, because your room was in the backstage area, you even talked to Lady Raven for a bit on her break. She was so nice and friendly. On and off stage, her whole personality was the same. Which you found truly great, a person like that was hard to find nowadays. The thinker for example seemed like a total dick from what you saw. Lady Raven and you also had some similar interests, it was so easy to talk to her.After asking about it, she told you that they hadn’t found the Butcher yet. She even told you a few more details on how the police got the information of him being there. Before she left you wished her good luck with the rest of her show and went back to work for a bit. 

Later on during the second half of the show, you stepped near the stage. The atmosphere felt incredible. The lights, the performance on stage and the fans screaming and singing the songs of Lady Raven. How you wished to be standing in the crowd just vibing and dancing to the music instead of working. If it weren’t for all the extra police and security in the arena, it would be a normal concert. 

Slowly you started making your way backstage as you saw people approaching from the audience room. Honestly you weren’t keen on talking to many people. Lady Raven started talking and announcing her dreamer girl, Riley. That must be why the people came in from the audience. At the end of the stage you turned around again. On your former spot stood a man. He was tall, with a nice backside, no doubt the father of the dreamer girl, looking at the stage.  Though he seemed to take a quick look around every now and then. Looking at him, he didn’t look like he was having much fun being here. He looked rather stiff. As you started walking back in his direction to get a better look, Eric called you. Sighing, you turned around. As you were making your way backstage, you felt like someone was watching you. 

“Hey, somewhere outside, a monitor has a bluescreen. I'll quickly go fix it. The show is nearly over. After that, we can start with cleaning things up.” Eric told you, as you walked down the stairs towards him.

“Okay, do you need my help?” You asked him, pushing a blonde strand of hair behind your ear, batting your eyes at him, hoping he would say no. 

“No of course not! I can do it alone. The problem is not that hard.” he answered, trying to show off.

You smiled. “Okay great! Then, see you later.” 

You walked past him into the backstage area. It wasn't that you disliked him, he was nice for a work colleague. However, nothing more. For one you had not much in common besides work, and he was a pushover. You could not imagine being with a man who had no opinion and just waited for you say anything until he stated his opinion. 

‘Like have an opinion, Boy?’ Rolling your eyes at the mere thought of his personality, you grabbed yourself a drink and went back to your little break room.

There you waited for the concert to finish, which you knew shouldn’t take too long now. When you heard the last song finished you decided to grab your purse and go into the hallway. Considering it was too good of an opportunity to pass by. When would you ever see celebrities up so close again? Maybe you could ask Lady Raven for a selfie? Or an autograph? You weren’t the biggest fan, but there was a possibility you could sell that autograph later on.

Uncertain where to go, you stood in the hallway. Dancers ran past you. Nobody seemed to take much notice of you. Coming from the left, you saw the thinker walking towards you, and kind of flirting with someone behind him. ‘Spicy.’ A light chuckle escaped you. Curiosity filled your brain and you decided to head in the direction he came from.

In the middle of the hallway, where several corridors met, stood Riley, the dreamer girl and her dad. If you remembered her name correctly that is. You stopped walking and observed them quietly from a little further away. 

‘Did the Thinker flirt with him?’ Now that you got a better view of him, you found that theory pretty reasonable. It felt almost unfair how attractive he looked. 

‘Was he married? Presumably.’ Not that you would consider making a move, besides his daughter was standing right next to him. That would be so awkward. Also remembering, the last time you let someone in, things unraveled in ways that left you a bit guarded. Despite your people skills, your mom and you apparently both had a thing for cheaters. After a year of being single, you told yourself it was for the best. Except for your job, life was good– At least that's what you tried to tell yourself.

Nevertheless you would never have considered being attracted to older men. He was at least 10 years older than you, maybe more. You were 25, and he could easily be in his 30s or even early 40s. All of a sudden the profiler’s description came back into your head: tall, strong, dark hair... 

Even though you've never been overly spiritual, you did believe in a sixth sense. The longer you thought about it, him standing in that hallway backstage. The way he subtly kept looking around for a second. Nobody noticed. ‘Wait… Did he notice you watching them?’ 

Pulling out your phone, you started swiping and typing randomly. Trying to look busy. Your thoughts were racing. He matched the description perfectly, and here he was, casually joking with his daughter like he didn’t have a care in the world. Despite his friendly smile and demeanor, there was something unsettling about him—a bit too friendly, almost fake? 

After looking at him a bit more, it just clicked into place. You couldn’t shake off the feeling that that may be him, the Butcher. Until now they hadn't found him, not that you knew of. So they were still searching for him. People backstage were rarely searched, except when they wanted to leave the arena.

‘God, you should think rationally. Could that really be him? Still he seemed normal…’

Except the look in his eyes. That look gave you unpleasant goosebumps. You grew anxious, you knew where the camera room was. Police officers were definitely going to be there and maybe the profiler was there. Then you could ask her if the man had been checked by security or talk to her about your uneasy feeling. 

Unfortunately you would have to pass him to get to the camera office. If he hadn't noticed you before, he certainly would then. Could you keep your cool? It didn’t matter. You knew you would overthink it in the evening, you had to do it. Your heart was starting to pound audibly in your chest. 

‘Deep breaths–

Breathe in, breathe out. 

Close your eyes, take a deep breath and go. Don't panic.’ Grabbing your phone tightly in your hand, you started walking. 

As you approached them, Lady Raven emerged from her dressing room and started talking to Riley. She was so happy, grinning from ear to ear. As they chatted happily, the dad leaned forward and whispered something to Lady Raven that you couldn't make out. 

As soon as you heard her tell his daughter that they would talk shortly, alarm bells were going off in your head. Your brain stopped working, and your legs and mouth moved on their own. You felt a certain hero complex activating within you. ‘What if he was the Butcher? There was a possibility’

You felt uncomfortable leaving her alone with him. Something felt off. Before they could leave, you sprinted the last few meters towards them. Trying to cry on arrival. 

“Lady Raven, hay… I eh.. I.. I don't... Could I.. could I talk to you for a second? Please, I don't know what to do.. I–” you sniffled. You tried your best to cry. ‘Come one, you could lie better than that’, you thought angrily at yourself. ‘Who would believe you like this?’ This wasn’t going to be the first lie you ever told. You even lied on your last résumé. 

She immediately turned around her face full of concern and worry. For a second you thought you saw his jaw tensing and left eye twitch. ‘Did you imagine it? ‘

“Oh no. Hey, what's going on? You’re Y/N, right? We met earlier.” You nodded your head, keeping the hand over your lower face, while trying to remain in tears. For once, you were glad that you chose to wear your hair open today. Your long blond locks shielded your face even more from the prying eyes around you. 

“What's going on? Are you alright? Did something happen?” She asked more and more questions, putting her hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you.

“There was an accident, I...“ You just kept mumbling incomprehensible nonsense. Still shaking, sobbing, trying not to look up. You didn't even know what to do, what to say. 

“Hay, ehm… I’m so sorry. Could you give us a second? I will be right back. It won’t take long.." she said, apologizing to the two of them. 

“Of course, no problem. This seems serious! Take your time.”, said the man, his voice laced with concern.

‘Why did he sound so genuine, like he is truly concerned? Maybe I judged him too fast?‘

Gently Lady Raven took one of your hands and started to lead you away. It didn’t matter anyway, there was no going back. Now you need to play your outburst to the end and come up with a plausible story. While she brought you into her dressing room, it felt as if someone was staring holes into your back. 

After the door closed, you immediately felt more at ease. Bit by bit you tried to calm yourself. At least that was what it seemed on the outside. You don’t remember much of what you told her, some kind of sob story. The first idea that came into your mind. About your dad having a car accident. The whole car crashed... With your car being parked further away from the arena and you were so afraid your dad could die. That you at worst wouldn't make it to the hospital in time with all the police controls going on in and outside the arena. 

You cried, trying to think your story would be about your mom and not your dad. Which did the trick and made you sad. Being the kind person she is, Lady Raven suggested that you could drive with her in her limo, so you didn't have to go through the queues or security, and she would take you to the hospital or your car. You thanked her over and over again, as you wiped your tears away. 

How high was the possibility that the dad would like to briefly speak to Lady Raven again, when you went in the hallway again? Then everything would have been in vain. However you could’t pressure her. Something came over you, so you suggested that perhaps the other two could join them. Maybe they could also drive in the car? You tried explaining your suggestion somewhat rationally. That way she can still talk with the dad,

you would feel extremely bad if you kept her from talking to her fans. You didn’t want to cause any more trouble. 

Surprisingly, that seemed to work? No further persuasion was necessary. Which left you very surprised and perplexed. Was she truly such a kind person? Who was so trusting? Especially with everything that was going on here today. ‘Did she have such a shielded and good life, that she blindly believed you?’ You wondered.

‘Unimaginable…that could not be the case. You didn’t believe there were any truly good people left in this world.’

After another minute of collecting yourself, you went after Lady Raven. She had already gone ahead and had already told them the short version of what was going on, when you arrived. Asking them if they wanted to come too, so she and the dad could have their talk. She was way too kind and somewhat naive to even suspect you’d be lying. You almost felt ashamed of yourself, even stupid. What were you even doing?

The daughter gasped and tried not to jump up and down in joy, the way she gripped her dad's arm. She seemed to be torn between worrying about you and happiness. By being asked to drive with Lady Raven, her seemingly favorite artist in the world. She was honored and extremely happy for a few seconds, then she stopped and looked at you sympathetically. 

“I’m so sorry about the thing with your dad...” Nodding weakly at her, trying to keep your act up, you gave her a half smile. Unknowingly to you, you had started twisting the ring on your middle finger. A Tic. Something you always did when you're stressed out or nervous. 

The ring was nothing special. A plain black ring with some Greek numbers on it. A gift from your mom; from the only holiday you ever had taken outside the USA and since you were eighteen, there was hardly a day you didn’t wear it. 

“Why don’t we lead the way? That way, we can talk.” said Lady Raven and gestured to the man. 

“Yes of course... I mean, the circumstances are not the best, but thank you for considering Riley and me. We appreciate it.” He replied, looking concerned but with something unreadable in his eyes that made you want to look anywhere but at him. 

“It is no problem at all. Actually it was Y/N here suggesting it. She would have felt bad if we hadn't been able to have our conversation because of her.”

He raised a brow at you. “That is so thoughtful and kind of you to still think of others. Something really rare these days”

As he walked past you, he briefly touched your shoulder, making you nearly jump out of your skin. “And I’m really sorry about your dad. I hope he pulls through. Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help” he smiled kindly at you.. 

“Yes, I hope so too. Thank you…” You trailed off, realizing you didn’t know his name. 

“Oh I didn’t even introduce myself. I'm Cooper, just call me Cooper.” holding out his hand.

“Well, thank you Cooper. Also, for your offer, maybe I will come back to that." you shook his hand. He had a firm, but not to strong grip. 'so he was married'

"Let’s get going, please.” Somewhere in between Cooper coming close to you, you almost forgot that you had a mission to get to the hospital fast. Daddy dearest was waiting.

He nodded and as he passed you, walking ahead, you suddenly realized just how big that man was. You hadn't even noticed it before. However, standing right next to him you realized it. He was at least 6′2″, not overly muscular, but also not skinny either. Lady Raven seemed tiny next to him, and you weren’t tall yourself—maybe around 5′5″ on a good day. 

Still, something about his vibe felt off. He seemed caring, yet on the other hand, almost relieved—or amused? 

Riley and you walked a bit behind the two to the cat, nobody had to go through any controls. Riley was such a sweet girl, asking you questions or talking about the concert to ‘take your mind off of your situation’. She was so nice. You kind of wish that you had a little sister like her, but no, you only had a half brother. The only reason he ever contacted you was for money from our grandparents' inheritance.

It was only when you reached the end of the corridor, you noticed Cooper looking over his shoulder. One corner of his mouth pulled upwards and his expression changed. Something sinister in his eyes for a split second. So fast that you were doubting yourself again.

Near the limousine, you felt your phone vibrating, probably Eric wanting to ask where you were. You had no time for that now. Shaking your head, you declined the call and started to write to him, saying that an emergency had come up and you would be back later. You didn’t notice that you arrived at the car until someone cleared their throat in front of you.  

Fuck, you almost ran directly into Cooper. Lady Raven and Riley had already gone inside. He looked at me expectantly, a small smile at his lips. You quickly locked your phone and held it up. “Sorry, my… Sister. She gave me the latest updates on our dad.." you explained, the lies just kept rolling off your tongue, and you just hoped they sounded believable. With that you went straight to the car, without waiting for a response. 

Maybe you should have started an acting career… 

You quickly sat down in the car, with Cooper following shortly after you. Keeping your phone in your hand to secretly keep twisting your ring behind it.

This guy was making you so nervous, not only him but also the lies. You even thought you heard a small deep chuckle from behind you, maybe it was just your nerves? The car started moving. You wondered what they talked about… What did he want to talk about to her? 

Lady Raven's voice brought you out of your thoughts. “Y/N, where should I let you out? You remember where you parked your car? Or should we drive directly to the hospital?” 

Car yeah… you almost laughed. You knew exactly where your car was, a few miles away at the mechanic, because your lights weren’t working. Why hadn’t you thought of that. 

“Eh no, no! Just let me know where my car is. It’s a few blocks away. At this free parking space. There’s my car; let me look up the street real quick…” That wasn't a complete lie. Normally, you would park your car there, because it was just cheaper than parking near or in the stadium. Now just your bike was parked there, well, if nobody had stolen it.

You started to unlock your phone to look up the address. A large hand grabbed your hand with your phone to stop you. Before you could even protest or say something, Cooper started talking in his chipper, happy voice. 

“Really? What a coincidence! I think that should be the same parking lot where Riley and I parked my car earlier. I do know the address, it’s just around the corner.  You don't have to look it up.” Lady Raven pressed a button and Cooper told the chauffeur where to go. The address did sound somewhat familiar. You pulled your phone and hand out of his grip. There wasn't much resistance and he put his hands back into his lap. 

You looked back at Riley and Lady Raven, they were deeply engaged in a conversation with each other. Noticing nothing around the. The phone in your hand started ringing again, and you quickly looked at the screen. This time, it was your boss; should you just accept the call? You did not get much time to think about it. 

“Have you heard anything yet?”, came Riley’s question towards you. 

You started twisting your ring again. 

“Ah yes, yes… My brother texted me..” your breath caught in your throat. Realizing you messed up. ‘Didn’t you just say to Cooper that it was your sister? Maybe he didn't notice. Good thing you hadn’t pursued your acting career…‘

“...and the doctor said it doesn’t look critical. Our dad seems stable at the moment… but he needs to be operated on quickly.. I'm sure I will get more information as soon as…” 

All of a sudden the whole car jolted to a stop, followed by wild car honking. You tried to find your footing, unintentionally gripping onto Cooper's thigh. Right before you could fall off your seat a hand pressed against your shoulder and pushed you back into the seat. You dug your nails even more into his thigh. Riley's bags tipped forward and many of the contents scattered a little on the floor. “Sorry, Lady Raven. The car in front of us braked abruptly." The driver apologized. 

“Everyone alright?” Cooper asked, concern dripping in his voice. 

“All good” said Riley and Lady Raven nodded. 

“Yes, I think so..” you  breathed. He came closer pushing a loose strand behind your ear. A blush crept on your face. After another second, you noticed your hand was still on his thigh, and you blushed even more. 

“Oh I’m sorry!” You exclaimed in a panic. He smiled kindly. 

“No problem. I’m glad nobody got hurt.” Then he got up from his seat to help Riley pick her things back up and put them back into the bags. 

Your phone began to ring again. ‘It’s now or never; it would only get worse.’

With a sigh, you picked up the phone and immediately held the phone as far away as possible from your ear. A loud voice screaming through the speaker. Seemed like your boss just started screaming at you at the top of his lungs. 

You mouthed a quick ‘Sorry’ to the others in front of you. He kept on screaming, ranting about how you were not at work and how he always knew you were a lazy piece of shit. He should have fired me months ago… The list goes on.

As Cooper sat back down. You tried to move your body back in the direction of your phone. Seeing as you didn't want to be too close to Cooper. He didn't seem to mind and put a calming hand on your knee this time. Your mind seemed to go fuzzy when you got near him.

Overall this was not your day, your nerves were all over the place. Your feelings felt like they were on a rollercoaster. You still weren't sure if your gut feeling was right… but you also didn't want to find out. All the lies you told today and now your boss is screaming at you? It was just too much. Clenching your fist and putting the phone near your ear again. 

“I quit.” were the only words you said, dry of any emotion. 

“What did you say?” came the angry reply. 

“I quit” Hot tears were forming in your eyes, Cooper gently started to caress your knee. “i’m so fucking done. You don't know what I am going through right now! Someone could die, and you don't even let me explain myself. So go to hell, and I fucking quit.” Enraged, you ended the call and immediately blocked his number. 

You put your head in your hands and sigh. 

“I'm sorry… Sorry, you had to hear that. Everything goes wrong…” And with that, a sob escapes you. 

‘Nobody can see my face, right? So maybe act even more sad? ‘

This whole day was a curse, why were you even here? Because you felt bad vibes from the dilf next to you? You just wanted to laugh over the whole situation. 

‘You were fucking stupid and now jobless. Great work. Just because you wanted to play the hero, because of a stupid gut feeling. He was a normal dad. Not the Butcher. ‘ 

“Don't think like that. You said it yourself; your dad is stable, so that's a good thing. Maybe I can help you get a new job!” Lady Raven is really trying to cheer you up. 

Someone rubbed your back gently, and there was only one person who could do that. You tried your hardest to ignore his comforting touch. 

“Hay Y/N, I know you just met us, and you don't know me. But I bet a girl like you will easily find a new job. You seem like a good person. If you tell me in which field you work, I'm sure I could help. See if someone I know is hiring. How does that sound?” Cooper really tried to comfort you. He was so sympathetic and strangely charming. 

A small laugh escapes you. "Yes, I probably will..” You wipe away your angry tears’. 

“I mean… I already sent out job applications. I wanted to leave anyway, maybe I will get a job here in Philly or maybe where my mom lives. She lives more in the suburbs, like an hour away I think…” you paused. 

‘Why did you suddenly decide to tell him so much about yourself? Didn't you want to keep a low profile and not give too much real information?‘

This guy certainly knew how to make people talk. About everything, even things they may not want to share and then do without even realizing it. ‘Fuck’

“See! Now you're even smiling again. You just need to see the positive things.” With that, he squeezed your shoulder lightly and withdrew his hand from your back. Making you almost miss the comfort and warmth they had brought you. 

Stop crushing on the hot dad next to you! You tried to remind yourself and also remember all the things you thought were off with him.

“We're here,” the chauffeur announced. Great, finally. This car ride felt like an eternity. 

Cooper and Riley got out of the car first, and they said their goodbyes. Riley, of course, needed one last hug, and Cooper simply thanked her again for what she did for Riley. Before you got out of the car, Lady Raven pulled you in for a hug. 

“Please keep me updated on how things are at the hospital and if you need something. Just text me.” She pulled out her phone and pulled up Instagram. 

“Just search for your username, and I'll add you. That way, we can keep in touch.” 

You nodded and put in your name, and handed the phone back to her. 

“Thank you.. so much. Again. I'm so sorry for any inconvenience I caused. I won't forget this. Thank you! Next time, I’ll be in the front row singing your songs.” 

She laughed at that and nodded. While stepping outside the car, you crossed both fingers that the other two were gone.

Unfortunately, Cooper and his daughter waited for you. You had thought that by staying longer in the car, they would be gone already. No lucky day for you

You scanned the parking lot, and of course, your bike was stolen. The universe was just being cruel now. 

“So let us walk you to your car!” Cooper was way too happy, waving the limousine of Lady Raven goodbye. “Sure..” You started walking towards the cars. 

You were clueless on how to get out of this situation. Abruptly stopping, you looked around. 

“I don't see my car..” you say while looking around again. You sigh extra loudly. 

“Fuck me..”

“Your car got towed?” Cooper 

“Maybe” a dry laugh escapes you. 

“Or maybe with everything going on and all the things that were going on at the concert, I… just forgot where I parked my car.” You ran your fingers through your hair. 

"Well, if you tell me which hospital you need to go to, I'm certain Riley and I can make a little detour on our way home. Right Riley?” Riley nodded. 

“Of course, I’d be happy if we could help you out” she said, hopeful.

Right… the hospital. You should get better at remembering your lies. You were torn between keeping your lie up or simply turning around and walking away. 

You didn’t know what to do. Cooper seemed a bit strange at times, but he could not be the Butcher, right? Still while looking at him you felt like something didn't add up. Sometimes… you didn’t know how to describe it… He felt too perfect, too caring or too sweet. Maybe that was just who he was? You were lost in thought.. The look in his eyes was making you feel a bit uneasy. 

All of a sudden, Cooper's hand was behind your back, and he slowly pushed you forward. “If you can't decide, I will decide for you. Going to the hospital should be the most important thing. So we'll drive you and then you can worry about your car later. Okay?” 

You nodded your head at his idea, simply because you didn't trust your words at the moment. His hand wandered up to your shoulder, where he kept a firm grip and pushed you in the direction of his car. 

Riley was already running in front of you. You winced under his touch, did he know his own strength? You wondered. He certainly didn't look that strong. He opened the car a few meters away so Riley could already put her bags in the trunk. 

A black van

You suddenly remembered what Eric told you about the profiler, she suspected the Butcher to drive a car like this? 

Your body tensed up, and you felt like the pressure on your shoulder increased, which was almost painful. Surely that was going to bruise . Cooper opened the back door for you like you were a child being escorted home. You tried to muster your best friendly face before you sat down inside. 

“Thank you... Have you had this car for a long time?” You asked before you could stop yourself. Cooper raised an eyebrow, clearly pondering the question before answering. 

“Yes, I have had it for quite a few years now. Why are you asking?” Should you just tell him? 

It was just the trip to the hospital.. then you would never have to see them again. You could not fuck up even more than you already had, and until now, it was just an uneasy gut feeling. Also, you were trying to move back to your mom, who was at least an hour away. 

“No real reason.. Just that profiler from the concert. She talked so much, about everything and also about cars... especially mentioning a car like this, which could potentially be the car of a-… killer.” 

He only stared at you. 

‘Did you say something wrong? Maybe you’re the weird one now.’ Nervously rubbing your neck, you tried to lighten the mood with a laugh. 

Thankfully, Riley was just on her way to the passenger seat. She didn't hear her, no need to scare her. You didn’t think she knew about what was going on behind the scenes of the concert. 

“So maybe you should switch it up? But maybe she was just talking nonsense..” you tried to diffuse the situation, massaging your sore shoulder. 

Cooper smiled and laughed softly. "Well, thanks for the tip. I thought about getting a new car. Maybe I should finally get one. More family friendly, any ‘smart’ suggestions perhaps?” - 

“Hmm..maybe just something smaller, maybe in white, silver, or another color? Definitiv not black..” you smile. 

“Great. I will keep that in mind when I buy a new car.” he smiled back at you and closed the door, and got in the driver's seat. He seemed like he wanted to ask more questions, tapping his finger on the steering wheel. 

Quickly, you got your phone out and searched for a hospital near you. You found one which was 15 minutes away. When Cooper started the car you leaned forward, so much that your head nearly reached his shoulder and you could smell his aftershave. ‘He even smelled good.’ You showed him your phone. 

“Here, that's the hospital where I need to go.” He slightly turned around to get a better look at the screen. 

“Can I?” He gestured to the phone. “Just to get a better look.” 

You gulped, a nervous feeling growing in your stomach. “Yeah sure..” 

He didn’t even wait for your reply and grabbed the phone. 

“You got some kind of privacy screen on here?” he asked with a raised brow. 

Oh yeah, how could you forget, and here you thought he wanted to take your phone from you. When he couldn’t even see the screen. 

“Yeah! Sorry, I totally forgot. My boss had cameras everywhere in the building, I got a bit paranoid, so I bought one of those..” you laughed. 

“He doesn’t sound very nice. Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t have to work there anymore!” replied Riley. 

“Yeah.. maybe”

“You could just work at my school, our teacher for IT sucks..” 

Cooper glanced at her disapprovingly, slowly shaking his head.  “Riley…”- 

"Sorry, dad, it's the truth. He lives in the past. No one uses Windows XP anymore." Riley grumbled. 

Cooper started the car, and Lady Raven's music was playing loudly over the speakers before he turned the volume down. After a few minutes of driving and Riley vibing to the music, Cooper cleared his throat. 

"Here, you can have your phone back. Oh and I took the liberty of saving my number on your phone. That way, if you ever need anything or some help finding your car later, you can just give me a quick call.” 

What the fuck. He did what now?

He smiled at you through the rearview mirror, his eyes watching you closely. Carefully, you grabbed your phone out of his hands. 

“That's so… thoughtful. Thank you” You tried to put a smile on your face. 

"So, Riley, how did you like the concert?” You tried changing the topic. Oh boy, that worked. Riley started rambling about everything, including how cool it was to be on stage with Lady Raven. Unconsciously, you found yourself smiling a real smile, she was just so cute. Your eyes flickered to the rearview mirror every so often, and as soon as you met Cooper's eyes, you looked back at Riley. Let’s not get lost because of his good looks. You still felt uneasy.  

You tried telling yourself in your head. Somehow, you felt like a prey being watched by his predator. Once in a while you felt like his expression would flicker for a split second, his eyes becoming way darker, but it was gone so soon. You weren’t even sure if you saw it correctly or if it was your imagination. Even though the feeling was only there for a split second, He looked so friendly, encouraging Riley to talk more. 

Finally, you could make out the hospital in the distance. About time, you thought. 

“Hey Y/N?” Riley asked. 

“Yes?”- 

“Maybe when your dad is better again, you can visit us? I feel so bad for you. Today should have been a great day. _You seem really cool… I mean, your dad and family can come too..Right dad?” Cooper smiled and nodded. 

“Great, Like a family dinner, my mom is a great cook.” So he was married. “I just would like to do something nice for you.” Oh god, the world didn’t deserve her kindness. 

“Of course, you don't have to feel compelled to do so. Think about it, you don’t have to decide now..” Cooper interjected. 

“The two of you are too kind. I can't,” more like won't, “give you an answer right now, but I promise to think about it. Okay?” You fake-gushed at the two, your face hurting from keeping the smile on your face. 

Both Cooper and Riley seemed satisfied with the answer. You felt like you were in the wrong movie, was there a hidden camera somewhere? You arrived within the next minute. Cooper parked his car near the emergency exit. One moment away from freedom, away from this lie. 

“I can’t really thank you enough. Thanks for driving me here. I hope you had a great day. Have a safe drive home.” You tried opening the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “Oh, child safety must be on. I’m sorry, I forgot.” apologized to Copper and exited the van to open your door. You didn’t believe him, it just matched too well. 

“I hope you get good news inside. Dad acted really strange today, but I’m happy everything is normal again.” she smiled, before you could answer, and your door opened. 

Daddy is acting strange today. You don’t say…  

“Well, bye, Riley.” You waved at her and got out and barely got your hand out of the doof before Cooper shut it close. 

“I’m so glad we could help you.” he said with that charming voice of his. He started to walk with you towards the building. “With all the extra police force, because of the Butcher, it could have taken you at least an hour to get here.”

“That's true. Well maybe next time he shouldn't let his recipes laying around in his hideouts. What does he even want at a pop concert?” you snorted. 

“Did he now?” Cooper asked intrigued.

“At least that's what I overheard from a few higher up people today.”, no way you were saying that it was Lady Raven who told you.

“Seems like he needs to be cleaner and more careful.”

“If not, they might just catch him next time,” you joked.

“I don't think that will happen, sweetheart.” His mouth twitched in amusement.

That was a weird response. He must have seen the frown on your face, as he quickly started to explain himself.

“I mean if they didn't catch him today, while they knew he was going to be there. I think the chances of the police finding him again are relatively close to zero.” His reply sounded reasonable. 

“Well yes, but he fucked up once. Maybe he is getting sloppy with time. Nobody knows.” 

His jaw clenched. “You think so? Maybe you're misinterpreting the situation. I would imagine someone like him to be very calculated.  Otherwise the police would have found him already, if he was being sloppy.”

“True…” You shrugged your shoulders. Maybe you were wrong, but why did he sound somewhat angry at your statement?

He was honestly acting strange now. 

“Well I think this is where I leave you.” Cooper announced after a few seconds of silence. His behavior over the last meters made you feel unsettled again. He seemed strange. ‘Why was he like that?’ 

“Okay…”, should you with your gut feeling, you wondered? Fuck it, it was just a guess, a wild guess. You always knew your big mouth would get you into trouble someday. Maybe he was just a normal dad and you were overthinking the situation. If that was the case, he wouldn’t think anything of it.

“By the way B-...Cooper” you began, and Cooper turned around in a second, looking at you expectantly, one of his brows raised. His face was unreadable. “You're welcome.. You know that? For getting to drive with Lady Raven"—for  getting out of there without the security controls - was what you wanted to say. Even if he were the Butcher his facial expressions and body language didn't betray him. He smiled and stepped back toward you. Every bone in your body wanted to run. ‘Fuck, did this creep you out.’ You felt like you were pushing your luck today 

“Yes.. of course. I am very grateful for that…” Before he could say anymore, Riley pulled down the window. 

“Dad! Let's go home! Y/N needs to go to the hospital! And I want to tell mom all about the concert!” 

“She's right. I don't want to keep you from your father any longer. I bet your sister is waiting for you. Better go inside.” ‘He knew, he knew you lied when you fucked up with the sister and brother thing.’ Panic started to set in, you swallowed hard, your throat dry.

He came even closer and engulfed you in a tight hug. You stood there, frozen in place. He leaned his head down to your ear, his hands holding you even tighter. One of them slowly wandered to your lower back while he talked.

“Thank you, sweetheart. You sure made it easier. I’m sure Spencer will be soo grateful. I’ll let you know…” a dark chuckle escaped him.

“It's a small world. I'm sure we will see each other again.” His deep voice whispered in your ear, which sent shivers down your spine. You felt trapped. Like a tiny mouse next to him, holding your breath unintentionally. He patted you on the back. Smiling, he stepped away. 

‘Breathe– mask your emotions. Get a grip.’ Many different thoughts running through your head.

Tilting your head to your side you looked at him. Moreover you were confused. Even a tiny bit scared.

‘Please don’t let him notice. Who was Spencer? Did you know Spencer?’

Furrowing your brows you asked “Spencer?” your voice slightly quivering.

He grinned even more— it looked unnerving. It was replaced by a much friendlier smile after another second. “Don’t worry about it.” 

‘Were you imagining things? Now you knew why people said “don't play with fire.” Why had you said anything at all...’

His voice became louder, having that charming undertone again “and make sure to call sweetheart. Riley would be very happy if you came over.” Winking at you he turned around and walked back to his car. 

You felt like your chest was about to explode.

“Yes! Once your dad's out of the hospital and things settle down, Make sure to call my dad. Then we can have a fun dinner.” giggling Riley's voice went even higher. She was practically shifting in her seat, unable to sit still. 

‘Fun dinner? Yeah.. sureeee kid..’

You mustered your best smile and gave her a thumbs up. 

“I will kiddo. See you around.” trying to steady your voice. You needed to get away fast. turned around and walked towards the hospital, near the end you were almost running. 

Once inside, you had the feeling that it was getting harder and harder to breathe. As if you weren't getting enough air. Your breathing became more and more rapid. Your vision was blurred. 

‘Was this hyperventilation? What was going on? Was he really the Butcher? Were you right? Would you die next? Maybe he would keep you alive because you unintentionally helped him?’

Anxiety welled up inside you. You barely noticed the loud voices around you. 

‘Did you hear someone calling for help?’

You had the feeling that the world was spinning around you. ‘Were you still walking?’ It felt like your legs were made out of jelly.

Someone was talking to you, holding you by the shoulders. Shaking you. Waving something in front of your face. However, you couldn’t make out the words. You couldn't recognise the face in front of you. Everything sounded dull, like it was far far away. The world became increasingly blurred before your eyes, spinning more and more– 

until you finally gave in and everything went dark. 

[dudewheresmynug]

Rook's Hobbies

I've been tagged in so many amazing Rook games that I decided to make one!!

For this, I'm going to tag @rooks-dagger @dancing--lights @trashwithvariety @justanecho94 @herald-divine-hell @razzberrydazz and @zombiefishgirl. No pressure! I would love to learn more about what your Rooks enjoy 🥰

Obviously, the tag is also open to anyone else who would like to try it! Please let me know if you do!

Rules: Post a few of your Rook's hobbies and write an explanation (however long you'd like) describing why they enjoy them. Then, tag some other people to play!

Lydia Thorne

Reading

A lifelong hobby of hers, Lydia enjoys nothing more than getting into a good book. Surprisingly, she mostly engages with historical or magical texts. She's always looking to advance her magic, or learn something new, or understand something that unsettles her. It's uncommon for Lydia to fall into a storybook, but not unheard of. When she does find herself getting engrossed in a story, it's usually the sappiest romance she can find. Or, it's something action-packed and high-stakes. Reading is the only hobby Lydia has that she would hate to have interrupted. Honestly, she'll ignore the culprit at best, and throw something at worst. Her favorite book of all time is The History of the Grey, which, as the title suggests, is about the history of the Grey Wardens. She first read the book when she was a kid, and she ended up stealing it from the Circle library when the tower fell. She keeps it with her even at the lighthouse.

Writing Poetry

Lydia keeps a few secret journals for poetry. This isn't a hobby she tends to share freely; instead, she's a bit embarrassed by it. That being said, she goes to lengths to keep this part of herself hidden. Lydia bought her first journal for her 24th birthday, her first birthday after joining the Order. She initially bought the journal because its design caught her eye, and she put it to good use! She would make bullet point lists about how she was doing, or what she was thinking (much like regular journaling). These eventually turned into lists about her surroundings, or recent events, and how they made her feel, and what they made her think and remember. She would also write about things she wanted to be able to reflect on in the future. From there, she slipped into the habit of writing poetry whenever she needed to process something. It was a great coping mechanism while she dealt with deep depression in the Order. Lydia will also write about her magic use or about her friends. Then, when she starts crushing on Neve, she writes about Neve. A lot. Likeee a lot a lot. And Davrin, a lot, after he dies.

Nature Walks/ Running

Lydia needs to be outdoors a LOT. Years of growing up in the circle made her less than a fan of being in enclosed spaces, especially for long periods. During those 7 years she spent living at home with her parents, after the Circle and before the Order, Lydia could often be found outside. She would hang around the farm, but she also had her little areas around Crestwood, which would be her refuge. She also enjoyed sleeping outside, which she would do as much as possible (as weather and parents allowed). Being in the Fade is...weird? It looks outsideish enough for Lydia to feel comfortable, but she still prefers not to sleep in her own room. She spends a LOT of time in Harding's room, actually. Davrin's "touching grass" trips are super helpful for her. In that same vein, Lydia really enjoys running. She's fast and has great stamina. She loves the rush she gets during and after a good run and loves the feeling of fresh air filling her lungs. She'd definitely be the type to sign up for multiple marathons a year. Lydia has definitely also challenged some (all) of her friends to races. Neve smokes her every damn time (seriously have you ever panned the camera up while running around with Neve in game? She's fast as fuck).

Baking Bread

This is a lesser-known hobby of Lydia's because she doesn't get to do it very often. Her father grew up working for his family's bakery (more of a flour mill that also baked and sold bread), so he's an expert at baking bread. Her mother has the skill, too. Baking bread was one of the ways Lydia's parents bonded with her when she came home from the Circle. It was a calm task with enough personal care put into it that Lydia could handle it without becoming overwhelmed. Lydia doesn't talk about this hobby because it reminds her of her parents, and she doesn't like to think about them. Baking bread becomes a happier hobby once she finally reunites with them. By extension, Lydia also enjoys cooking. Nothing is better than a hot and hearty dish, though she can slap a suitable meal together with whatever's lying around. She doesn't get much kitchen time, though, because Lucanis tends to cook nearly every day.

A Nice Game of (Drunk) Darts

Another one of Lydia's lesser-known hobbies, Lydia enjoys a nice competitive game of darts. As the section title suggests, it's even more fun for Lydia if she's had a few drinks. Lydia started playing darts during her time in the Order -- it was one of the games she and the other recruits would play to bond. Lydia is an alright shot on the regular. Drunk Lydia is either phenomenal or horrible, depending on the night. She's been known to throw the darts too hard or insist on getting an extra turn if she misses. She has also, on several occasions, gotten worked up enough over being heckled by other players that her magic has sparked. Unfortunately, my girl is competitive as all hell. She'll create extra challenges or rewards/punishments to make the game more interesting. She's not always a sore loser, but she can be! When she is, she's getting into shouting matches, or talking shit, or storming off in a huff. Still, she claims that the game relaxes her! Losing her favorite elemental orb in a match once has also taught her not to gamble.

Thank you for reading this (not so short) post! Can't wait to see what your Rooks enjoy <3

[cancerian-woman]

it really made no sense to me that hope was such a powerful witch and didn't have a witch mother. I am very interested in hearing about how your hope and bonnie similarities thoughts as well`

I can’t find my old posts right now or I’d tag them lol.

That’s why the “first-born-Mikaelson” trait was created to explain Hope’s witch side. In TVD Esther’s “powerful” moment consisted of leeching off the Bennett’s as a bloodline and praising their hard work. The entire reason Esther was brought back was because of Bonnie/Abby. The tailsmen that gets passed around initially belonged Ayana. I cannot stress this enough if Esther had 7 kids and only 2 were witches the gene was not the strong. I know it’s many debates on if the Mikaelsons were untapped witches but that wasn’t confirmed to my knowledge.

I assume they didn’t want Phoebe playing a witch again after TSC ended. Instead, we have Hayley saying multiple times she did not know what to do about Hope’s growing powers. Klaus was already a hybrid with an unexplored werewolf side. Sure, he used it to enforce power but we’re shown he didn’t hate it.

Hope is book description Bonnie without the curly hair. White, short, powerful and has red hair. Legacies has a running gag about Hope being the tiny tribrid. Coincidentally Danielle & Kat are the same height. I just thought this one was funny.

Both fall under characters that were born into the supernatural world. While we see Hope’s birth and a confirmation she was a witch(later tribrid). We don’t get an explanation of why Bonnie started practicing later in life when the witch-gene is prominent in all Bennett women. Throughout tvd as we meet other witches they knew during infancy or early-childhood.

Bonnie fights forcibly to use her powers to save everyone else even at the expense of herself. In Legacies Alaric’s reasonings for wanting Hope at the boarding school was expecting her to be the protector to his daughters. Both Bonnie and Hope hold the responsibility of wanting to save everyone and feel devastated when by the possibility of not saving everyone.

I’ll give you an example outside these parallels: Bonnie letting her friends pass through her knowing it was killing her as the anchor for their survival. Hope choosing to die and become the tribrid so the malivore could stop killing people. Bonnie stopping hellfire from destroying Mystic Falls. Hope taking in the hallow from her relatives saved NOLA even though it was killing her. It’s more than that but I’d be listing things all day by that point. Those two women are sacrificial as they are strong women. Look at this here.

It’s a reason why people choose to compare Hope to Bonnie more than her own relatives or her mother. This isn’t a jab to Hayley but the plots focused too much on Hope’s witch-side. People find joy in trying to humble Bonnie as a witch. As I said here the fanbase wouldn’t have been as accepting if Hope’s mom was of color or even if Hope was biracial.

But if she was I’d nominate Bailey Bass in a heartbeat