#GIVE IT TIME IT WILL MAKE SENSE I PROMISE

[luveline]

Hi Jade! I had an idea for a request! I was thinking about reader with a really low sex drive and maybe one day she starts to get a little worried and insecure about it and one of the boys just reassures her that he doesn’t care about it<3 idk if that made sense but write for whatever boy you want to I don’t have a preference love you 😚

How Remus, James and Sirius would comfort you when you worry your low libido is a problem. fem, 2.2k

❥ Remus 

Remus sits with his legs crossed in the corner of the settee, a book open on his thigh, though his attention has been caught and kept by the TV. 

You think some grovelling may be in order after last night. Quiet, you round the settee and climb onto the seat next to his, body turned away from the TV, arm creeping onto his thigh. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi.” 

He encourages you closer, leaning back to give you room to lie on him. His right arm does most of the work to keep you up, sandwiching you to his chest, an almost not quite hug. “What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“How do you know something is wrong?” 

He taps your back with his fingers, looking up at the ceiling with a sarcastic smile. “What could it be?” 

The hints of green in his irises are more pronounced when he’s sitting in the sun like this, rays cutting in through the window, turning his pale skin slightly tanned and his hair a warmer chestnut colour that curls behind his ears. The scar on his lip relaxes as his joking smile fades to a proper one, a lovey-dovey type that melts you. It’s nice to be looked at so nicely, like just the sight of you inspires happiness. 

You shift off of your legs, deciding you might as well lay flat with your head in his lap instead. He lets you sink down. His hand takes up station near your cheek, the back of his curled fingers brushing the skin just shy of your eye. 

“This is nice,” he whispers. 

“I have to say sorry,” you whisper back, drawing shapes into his t-shirt, the soft muscle of his stomach pillowy to poke. 

Remus nods emphatically. “Yes, you didn’t come and see me as soon as you woke up. I heard you on your phone in bed. That’s not very nice, is it, depriving me of your company?” 

You shake your head into his thigh, a slow, guilty movement. “No, about last night.” 

“What about last night?” 

Last night, Remus had given you a very slow kiss. He’d been half asleep and you’d been more so, but it was a lovely kiss and his hand had been rubbing sweet half circles into your hip, but it still made you feel awful when he asked if he could touch you and you’d told him you were too tired, even if he didn’t mind. He’d just kissed your cheek and snuggled into you like a life-sized teddy bear. He never takes your rejection as an insult. 

“You… you wanted to fuck and I didn’t, I’m sorry. I feel like every time you ask lately I say no.” 

Remus frowns at you. Deep frown, eyebrows pinching and brown eyes bordering sullen. His fingers uncurl over your cheek and cover your ear as he cups your face. “I don’t want you to be sorry. The reason I ask is so you can say no, you can always say no.” 

“I kiss you, and I wind you up, and then I can’t–”

“Which I enjoy. You don’t have to worry about that.” He leans down to kiss you but doesn’t fully get there, your noses touching, and then he’s leaning away again. “Please don’t say sorry. You know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

“I know that. I’m not trying to make you into the bad guy.” 

Remus taps your nose with his and leans in again. “I know you’re not. You aren’t one either. Sex is just another fun thing to do, okay? If you don’t want to, that shouldn’t bother me, and it doesn’t. I promise.” 

You curl your arms around his neck. He lifts his head, subsequently lifting you as he moves, his arm curling behind your back for a hug. 

“Sometimes I want more of you than you want to give,” he says, “but it’s just because I love you, not because I need it. Don’t be silly, dove. Don’t say sorry.” 

He presses the heel of his palm to your back and begins the heavy pressure of a back rub. You won’t say sorry if he doesn’t want you to. You shouldn’t anyways. But he’s your boyfriend and you love him, so his being accepting of it is a relief. 

Like he can read your mind, he says, “You never have to say sorry for this.” 

“I know.” You lift your chin. “Kiss?” 

Remus kisses you quickly before tucking you into his neck for a long hug. 

❥ James

“You’re beautiful.” 

You’re boiling. James doesn’t notice, kissing and kissing and kissing, your neck flushed with his touch and his murmured compliment. “James.” 

He tilts his head, weaving in on the other side of your neck to give it the same loving treatment. “Pretty doesn’t cover it,” he says in a rush, his teeth scratching dully up to your jaw, his kissing like nips without any pain behind them as he reaches your cheek. 

You catch his face in your hands and push him away gently. It’s so hot in here you can’t breathe, and you’re not in the mood for any further action. It’s funny. You adore his kisses and James is undeniably a good fuck, but your libido is low no matter how pretty your boyfriend is, or how pretty he finds you. You’d always wondered if that meant there was something wrong with you. 

James doesn’t seem to think so. 

“Sorry,” he says, beaming, “that’s enough, right?” 

You feel a weird sharp stab in your chest. “Sorry?” 

“I’m getting ahead of myself.” James sits up where he’d been lying on top of you, having manoeuvred such a position in the midst of all his warm kisses. He sits back on his calves, kneeling in the space between your legs, a hand falling instead to your knee. “It’s fucking hot in here, isn’t it?” 

“Sorry.” 

“Did you make it hot?” 

You look at your hand on your chest. He’s noticed you don’t want to take it any further, you hardly ever do. You knew he’d see that eventually. You have the libido of a panda, where James is an athletic young man who loves you. 

“No, I mean. I’m sorry, because I never want to when you want to.” 

Your serious tone surprises him. “Baby, what the fuck are you talking about?” he asks. “I am so lost.” 

“Just– Most of the time when you try to sleep with me I turn you down. You know already.” 

“Baby, that doesn’t matter.” He leans in again, only to hold your wrists, two big hands curled around your arms to stop your fidgeting. Two pet names in quick succession is unlike him, and it relaxes you before he’s begun to explain. “It doesn’t matter at all. Just makes it better when we do manage to want it at the same time.” 

You grimace. “Are you sure?” 

“You want me to be honest?” 

You’re not sure. “Yeah. Please be honest.” 

“Sometimes we kiss and you know I want you,” his eyes dart down, prompting a surprised laugh from you, and an easy chuckle from him in return, “and it’s frustrating, but it’s not ‘cos of you. I can go shower and sort myself out and it’s not the same as being with you, but it’s not your fault. It’s just a reaction.” 

“But I feel bad for making you deal with it yourself.” 

“What are you supposed to do? You can’t force yourself if you’re not in the mood. That’s the last thing I want you to do. I’d rather have it fall off.” 

You laugh again. James’ smile is glowing, and warm as he presses it to your wrist in a chaste kiss. “We can do other things. If you feel that badly about it, you can give me a scalp massage, please. You shouldn’t feel badly about it, but still. If you’re okay with it, I’d love one.” 

He presses his cheek to your chest in want of your hand. 

You press your fingertips to his hairline and weave your fingers into the roots of his soft hair, shaking them, nails scratching lightly at his scalp like you know he likes. “How’s that?” you ask. 

“Better than sex.” He is unmistakably sincere. 

❥ Sirius 

“Did you lock the door?” 

Sirius hums. 

“Close the kitchen window?” 

“I did,” he says, waving your hand gently where he’s holding it between you both. You lay straight in bed with the duvet up to your chests and the TV playing one of his favourite movies. 

“Okay. Did you take your medication?” 

“Yeah, sweetheart. Everything’s done. You can relax.” 

You pick your book up and open it to the first page. You’ve been meaning to read this one for a while, you’re happy to get the time, but you’re feeling queasy about something. 

Sirius is a loud guy. He loves the glitz and glamour of life, he likes to go out, play fast and hard, he’s electric most of the time. He can be quiet, too, like you tend to be, but you’re worried that you’re another night closer to him deciding he’s bored. It’s been weeks since you went anywhere, and you haven’t fucked in almost as long. 

“Can I have this?” he asks, pulling your hand to his lips. 

You smile as he kisses your knuckles, barely there presses of his lips to your skin that linger. 

“You haven’t turned a page yet.” 

“It’s hard to start,” you tell him. 

“What’s it about? Fantasy?” 

“No, just a romance, I think.” 

“I like your romances. You read the complicated ones with the good love, like ours.” 

It’s a very nice thing to say, even if you’re not sure how he knows what romance you’re reading. He enjoys listening to you talk about books when they’re done, so perhaps the details have sunk in.

You let the book flop to the side and curl up around your joined hands. “I love you,” you say. 

He curls into you in return, “You should. That was a good line,” he says teasingly. “I love you too, my girl.” He speaks it with a quiet, gentle cadence that suits him and the pet name well. “Lift your head. Wanna see you.” 

You angle your face up to give him a view of the half that isn’t hidden by the sheets. “I’m so boring.” 

“Says who?” 

“Everybody, probably. All we do is watch TV and sleep.” 

“Good thing I love both of those things.” He wraps an arm around you, palm to your shoulder. “And it’s not true. We went to the cafe yesterday after work. On the weekend, we’re going to the cinema. Why, do you want to do more?” 

“It’s not me I’m worried about, Siri. Aren’t you bored?” 

He stares at you. Long, non-judgmental looking, his dark lashes kissing in the corners as his gaze wanders down to your neck. “Is this about something else?” 

“No.” 

His mouth turns sympathetic, a wobbly frown. “Are you sure, lovely? You can talk to me.” 

You weigh each word as you say it, determined not to embarrass yourself, “I’m worried that I don’t make your life very interesting. We don’t go out much, we don’t drink, and I never…” 

You turn your face down, your forehead to his chest. Sirius hums unhappily and encourages your head back to see you again almost immediately. “You never what?” he asks. 

“Never mind.” 

“No, please. Tell me, Y/N. You can tell me anything, I won’t care.” He’s getting so serious about it and it’s making it even more embarrassing than before, but you don’t want him to worry. You spit it out. 

“I don’t put out. We hardly ever have sex.” 

“Does that upset you?” he asks. 

“Well. It upsets me if it upsets you.” 

“It doesn’t.” His hand cups your cheek, his forehead drops down to yours. “It doesn’t upset me. Did I make you think that?” 

“You’re just so cool and I’m your loser.”

He laughs happily. “You’re my loser,” he agrees. 

“The last couple of times I’ve said no. I guess I just worry you want more than I’m giving out, so. I don’t want you to wish we were having more sex, but I can’t make myself want it more.” 

“I see.” 

You listen to him breathing, the warmth of his exhale like a kiss all its own as it fans over your mouth.

He rubs your cheek with his thumb. “Can I tell you what I think?” You nod, and he continues, “I only want to have sex with you, that’s one of the consequences of being in love. It’s a good one. So if you don’t wanna have sex, it’s safe to say I don’t want to either. Okay? Love you just as much with or without it.” 

Unlike him and not to be this tender. You bite the inside of your lip.

“Promise?” you ask. 

“I promise.” 

[cherryredstars]

hi!! i love ur work! would it be possible for you do one with miguel where he kidnaps you into the spider society during a mission, and as your kidnapped the other spiders leave and you and miguel get close as his visits every day with your food and listens until you end up falling for each other and screw but you’re still chained up so it’s kinda like bondage and he finds it really. really. hot. ?

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x gn!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Kidnapped Reader, Stockholm Syndrome, Bondage, Penetrative Sex

Summary: He'll take care of you, promise.

A/N: Thank you, love! Enjoy!

It gets easier to do with each passing day, to forget.

He makes it easy to forget. Or to forget as much as you can while being tied up in a once desolate room. A room that is starting to become your own, not just a place for you to be kept. A place that now has things you can call yours, filled with things that he's brought you as gifts. Sure, your wrists are in an infinite state of aching from being tied up. But at least now it's rope and not the heavy chains from a month or two ago. At least now you get your choice of dessert when he visits you with your meals. And you've grown quite fond of the sun lamp he gave you after you mentioned how much you've missed feeling the sun on your skin.

You even find yourself perking up in moments like now, when you can hear the steady locks of the door clicking open instead of tugging at your bindings in fear. His large frame now makes your stomach twist with butterflies, not with horror. You lean towards him now, not away. When he looks into your eyes, he sees nothing but love and admiration. Any hint of fear and disgust is gone and done with. It makes his heart race, seeing the bright blush on your face as you shyly greet him.

"Hi, baby," He whispers, approaching you and taking your cheek into his large hand.

You nuzzle into it like a small kitten, lashes fluttering as you look up at him. His lips brush over your forehead, basking in the delighted sigh you let out in response. You can feel his smile against your skin, matching your own as he pulls away. Your eyes stray to the greasy bag in his other hand, your eyes widening in delight as you see the familiar fast food bag. You must have been very good this week for him to get you this special treat, it's very rare for him to leave base just to retrieve you food when he could just get whatever is left at the headquarter's food court.

He sits on the bed next to you, chuckling at your simple joy over a bag of shitty fast food. He simply doesn't understand though, seeing things like this makes you feel connected to the outside world. You happily open your mouth as Miguel feeds you some salty fries, his eyes focused on the way your tongue swipes over your lips to gather up the extra salt and drops of the milkshake he got you. He suddenly feels hungry. Really hungry.

You can sense the mood shift in the air, your chewing slowing down. The senses that have dulled over time now go haywire, something in your brain telling you to run. But you can't not with your hands tied up. Instead you give him a weary smile, your head leaning back slightly as you whisper out a 'what?' Your body locks up slightly when he moves to hover over you, forcing you to look up at his face. Your eyes study him intensely, your muscles freezing when you see his hand reaching up in your peripheral vision.

You swallow as his hand grasps your chin, his thumb stroking your lip. His eyes are dark and lidded as he follows the movement of his finger, tugging your lip down slightly and watching it bounce back into place.

"You're so... small. Y'know that?"

There is something about the way that he says it that makes your skin breakout in goosebumps. You can feel each bump prickling from your skin, causing shivers to wreck down your spine. Hesitantly, you nod. You're not sure what he's imply with that statement, but you can only hope it isn't anything... disturbing. You can only hope "small" doesn't mean "easy to break".

Miguel's thumb leaves your lip alone, instead trailing his fingers down the expanse of your neck until they're pressing against your collarbones.

"But that's okay," he continues. "I can make it fit."

Your brows furrow, eyes snapping down as you feel his other hand tugging at your underwear. Your mouth opens, maybe in protest maybe in surprise, only for Miguel to slant his mouth over yours. You squeak in surprise, eyes locking with his as his tongue forces its way inside of your mouth. He doesn't waste time exploring your mouth, humming at the left over taste of salt and vanilla. Your hands tug at your restraints slightly in surprise, your helpless whimper being swallowed by Miguel.

You can feel his fingers brushing against your sex, your eyes widening. His eyes studies every shift in your facial expression, the intensity almost frightening. When he pulls away from your mouth, your panting and gasping in air greedily, your lips connected to his with a line of spit that he licks up. Your lips feel bruised, but you have no time to dwell on it when two of his fingers press against your hole. It causes you to gasp sharply, your hips jolting in an attempt to escape. Miguel only chuckles, leaning forward as a glob of spit leaves his mouth and lands over your hole. You whine in discomfort as he massages it into your skin, lubricating your tiny hole.

Your breaths are shaky as you watch him, excitement and caution battling your nerves. You almost stop breathing all together when his suit falls away to reveal his weeping cock. His tip is red and pulsating, twitching with the need to be shoved somewhere warm and tight. To have something stretch and swallow him whole.

Your legs try to kick you higher up the bed when he presses his tip against your hole, smearing his dripping precum. It proves useless as he slowly sinks into you, groaning at the warmth that molds to the shape of his cock. You mewl at the stretch, months gone by without being so full. Miguel moans in approval as you squirm on his dick, his tip pressing against your walls until it hits that gummy spot inside of you. He pulls his hips back before ramming them back into you, making you wrap your hands around the ropes keeping you in place as your eyes roll back.

You feel so sensitive from how long it's been, and you can feel that fiery hot feeling building up in your stomach as Miguel pounds into you. Your thighs tremble with the force, and your mouth drops open at the pleasure ramming through your body. You can feel every thrust he gives you, and soon enough your body locks as you choke on a gasp. You can vaguely make out Miguel's groan as you convulse on his cock as you come. His hand comes up to your neck to keep you in place once you start thrashing to much, a sinister smile overcoming his face.

"Shh, I'll take care of you. Promise."

[helianthus-tarot]

RELATIONSHIP: What do men think about you? How do they see you? (general)

This reading is about men, people who identify as men and/or people who have a strong masculine energy, and their perception of you. It's meant to be about men as a group, but you can try asking about your person, though I can't promise you'll get an accurate answer. If you want to ask about a woman, or someone with a strong feminine energy, you can try, but again, I can't promise you'll get an accurate answer. Keep in mind, when we talk about perception, it's bound to be biased in some way, so if you get a negative message, don't let it affect your self-esteem.

I posted the extended version on my Patreon which includes what do men who are ❤️ romantically attracted ❤️ to you think about you 👀📝 There are other 60+ fun and juicy readings on Patreon too so definitely check it out!

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Instructions: Focus on the topic and ask yourself the question. Choose a number/picture that you feel the most drawn to or that you can’t stop looking at. Trust your intuition. May the message resonate. Let me know which pile you choose! Feedback is appreciated!

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PILE 1

General: 10 of Pentacles, 6 of Pentacles, 6 of Swords Rx (The Hermit). The Sun, The High Priestess.

They sense a stable and grounded vibe from you; they think that you are the type of person who moves slowly or who takes time to evaluate things before you make your decisions, the type of person who considers future impacts and future gains when you make your decisions, the type of person who cares about being sensible, like, having good personal finance skills, knowing how to take care of your health, etc. Some of them think you come from a wealthy family, upper middle class and above, you are privileged, or you receive material support from your family. For some of you, this could be the wealth or the material comfort that you’ve built on your own, but they assume it’s provided by your family.

Despite the privilege/wealth they think you have, whether it’s coming from your own effort or your family, they think you are also generous with it. You share your abundance with others, you guide and help others when you can, especially by providing practical help or material help. So them seeing you as well-off isn’t really coming from jealousy or envy, it isn’t something they do to look down on you or to treat you like you grew up spoiled; it’s just something they think you have, and they think you use it for good.

Some of them see you as someone who could be a good spouse, whether they are romantically interested in you or not. They could simply think that you’ll make a nice partner for their own son/daughter/etc, for example. They think you’re quite reserved and conservative. What I mean by conservative here is not necessarily you believing in traditional beliefs, it’s just that, you give off the vibe of someone who doesn’t really party a lot, you are kind but you aren’t exactly a social butterfly, perhaps you prefer to stay at home and cook or read or do activities that are pretty lowkey or that make you feel calm and stable. That vibe. You come across as committed and responsible to them, hence a good spouse material.

But they also think that you secretly have some wounds or sources of stress that you haven’t moved on from, and they wonder if these wounds are the things that make you feel a little distant sometimes, like, you don’t properly open up. Some of you lowkey give off a sombre vibe, despite outwardly showing that you are happy or you are enjoying your time and interactions with people, so they pick up on it.

You ‘make’ them feel at ease with themselves, they feel like they can be who they truly are around you and perhaps they also feel like you bring out their good sides, you ‘make’ them feel inspired or encouraged to be truthfully and authentically themselves. For some of them, your responsible vibe brings out their inner child, so they usually get the desire to express themselves more around you, without shame, without insecurities. Some of them may be more playful too as a result, it depends on their age, but they could ‘poke’ you playfully so you come out of your restraint, especially if you have a serious demeanour. They also feel open towards you, they feel inclined to receive you with open arms. You evoke curiosity too, hence why some of them may poke you playfully just so they can see more of you. Some of them are drawn to you in a way that they can’t explain, though this is probably because you bring out their inner child.

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! What do men who are romantically interested in you think about you? How do they see you? Is it the same or is it different? Do they notice the real you? 🫢 Find out here! 👀📝

PILE 2

General: The Empress Rx (Judgement Rx), The Moon Rx (3 of Wands Rx), Temperance. Ace of Swords, 10 of Cups.

They think you are mild-mannered and placid, kinda passive. Perhaps you don’t react much, or perhaps they often see you taking the less confrontational way out. There’s this appropriate, agreeable and peaceful vibe coming from you, like you try to be mature, and patient, and try not to ruffle feathers. They think you often choose to be the bigger person, but some of them disagree with this decision. They think there are situations where you need to be more forceful and push for what you want, but you choose not to. Some of them could think that your peacefulness is actually coming from a lack of maturity (as if you aren’t fully ‘developed/mature’ yet to them, whatever this means) and a lack of self-assurance. Basically they think you haven’t properly come into yourself or stepped into your power. 

This is just an example, let’s say you chose not to confront a problematic situation because you were secretly scared or you were insecure about something related to it, but you acted as if you just didn’t want to fight or force things to go your way, you wanted to be mature so you chose to let go of that situation instead. That’s the vibe that they get from you, or that’s the assumption they make about you. You sound wise when you talk and they might think that you are interested in the spiritual or philosophical side of things, but yeah. Remember this is their perception, in reality it could be that you actually speak and act from experience and wisdom.

They think you are secretive about your feelings, not in a good way, they think you suppress a lot of things, especially negative emotions. They think you often choose to show a smooth and kind demeanour to the world instead of the murky, ugly feelings that you truly have. And some of them see this as harmful, because they think you aren’t really dealing with those, or you don’t really address those issues. Honestly if they are right about you, I wonder if you have Enneagram 9, because this sounds like it.

Some of you may not fit the beauty standard, they think you look like you could become more beautiful but you are still in the process of becoming, you’re still in that awkward stage or the stage where you haven’t quite realised your own worth/value/beauty yet. They may not see you as someone to pursue romantically, or to introduce to someone else, because of the lack of self-assurance that they perceive, they think you aren’t properly yourself, like you suppress parts of yourself and you could have insecurities with regard to that, and you don’t seem like you are open to working on those either.

Whether they are romantically interested in you or not, your presence makes them think about your romantic potential, about how you act in a group and around other people. Especially if you are a woman, some men think about the romantic potential of women around them, especially when they are deciding whether they want to stay friends or pursue something more. And they can be critical of your romantic potential, of how you act around people and in a group; it’s like their critical nature comes out more when you are around, their mind starts to turn and they start to sit and think and observe, and notice things that could be problems if you were to become their partner or their friend’s partner, etc. It’s very clinical though, I’m not saying it’s good, but they aren’t actively trying to be mean when they think these things.

Despite that, they think a connection/friendship with you can be very pleasant, not much drama because you aren’t the type for it, and so they are open to including you in their group, they are open to being nice to you and getting along with you. Some of them could see you as someone to protect, despite not having romantic feelings for you.

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! What do men who are romantically interested in you think about you? How do they see you? Is it the same or is it different? Do they notice the real you? 🫢 Find out here! 👀📝

PILE 3

General: 5 of Wands Rx (Ace of Swords), The Emperor Rx (Ace of Wands), 6 of Pentacles. 4 of Swords, Page of Swords.

They think you are assertive and confident, but there’s a negative connotation to this. Not super negative to the point that they hate you, no, but it bothers them a little. They think you are outspoken and combative, you fight for what you believe in, you say what you think, you stand strong in yourself, but they think there’s something wrong with this, or they think you need to do it in a certain way, or in a better way, you need to be less this or less that. It’s that kind of feeling. You behave in a way that ruffles their feathers lol. 

In reality, it could be that you are actually pretty chill, you know how to balance yourself, when to push and when to wait and receive, you may not be that aggressive or difficult, just healthily assertive and forward (some of you actually come with rough edges, but I don’t think these are bad). Regardless, many of them just don’t receive your masculine traits well, as if those traits challenge their masculinity or beliefs/comfort in some way. Some of them could think that you are a little stuck-up or full of yourself, perhaps they judge this based on your demeanour (or your face, maybe you have a resting bitch face), so when you are just out and about minding your business, getting what you want, to them it looks like you are acting as if you own the place lol.

Some of them could pick up on your more playful side, but perhaps you don’t show it often or openly. It feels like for some of you, they think your playful side is something they need to bring out, and in order to do that, they need to deal with your sharp edges. Despite the edges that they think should be smoothen out, they think you are generous and helpful. You share what you have with people who need it, especially things like skills, expertise, practical knowledge, money and material possessions. When you are in this energy, they think you come across as reliable, secure and responsible. It’s the quality that brings out your calmness and conscientiousness. Some of them think you are good with children, or good with people who need your help since you know how best to support those people. It’s a good quality that they think you have, yet there’s that but.

But they are often triggered by you. Again, not in a super negative way, they don’t actually hate you, not really. It’s just that you make them want to say something to you, to poke you, to challenge you, to get you to talk and respond to them, to argue with you a bit. It’s like you disturb their peace for some odd reason, and they have a lot of opinions about it. They could be slightly mean with their words just to see how you react or just to scratch the itch of their annoyance. They may be randomly or unexplainably confrontational, making sharp comments out of nowhere, or telling you what they think about you unprovoked and in a way that isn’t really kind, as if they have no social skills to handle the situation with tact. You ‘disturb’ their peace, now they want to do the same to you. 

Some of them could take a more playful approach; they could intentionally be annoying towards you, tease you, make jokes and start random conversations with you, just to get you to respond to them. You evoke curiosity and desire to know, the way they go after this varies, like I’ve described, it depends on how kind and mature they are. Some of them may not be able to leave you alone without some kind of annoying behaviour or comment. They act like they know who you are, but it’s like, there’s a subconscious part of them that is lowkey open to change, as if they’re waiting to be proven wrong or they are waiting for reasons to change their mind about you. Perhaps they secretly feel like they don’t completely understand you, hence the desire to poke around.

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! What do men who are romantically interested in you think about you? How do they see you? Is it the same or is it different? Do they notice the real you? 🫢 Find out here! 👀📝

PILE 4

General: The Sun, 4 of Pentacles Rx (King of Cups, 8 of Pentacles), The Empress. The Hanged Man, The World Rx.

You seem very genuine and positive to them. Your vibe is light and joyful, like a beautiful butterfly, it’s like you shine wherever you go. They think you like to laugh or smile, or you bring a lot of laughter and joy to people. They think you make people feel comfortable, you make your surroundings more beautiful and positive. They think you are full of inspiration and you seek to live your life the way you want, instead of following what’s accepted or what’s well-regarded by the external world. There’s this authenticity about you that is very freeing or liberating, like someone who passionately pursues what brings them joy and lives their best life. There’s a childlike quality to you, maybe you look youthful, or you give off a youthful, sunny vibe. Despite you having the wisdom to know that the world isn’t always good and nice, they think you are the type of person who chooses to see the good in others and the world anyway. Despite your youthful vibe, they don’t see you as naive.

They think you attract attention; some of them think it’s because of your vibe, it’s positive to be around you. Some of them think it’s because of your looks/beauty. Some of them think it’s both. They think you are stereotypically beautiful (i.e. you meet the beauty standard), or you take good care of yourself, like smelling and looking good, which makes you look beautiful. They think you have a good self-esteem, you value yourself, you know your own worth, so you live your life like that, but without arrogance. They think you are loving, generous and kind; to people, to animals and plants. It’s the vibe that they pick up on.

If you are a woman, they could think that you like stereotypically feminine things, like jewellery or the colour pink, cooking or baking, or being a homemaker or a mother. They think you deserve to live a good life, you deserve to have your needs met and some more. They think you aren’t closed off, you are open, you show your vulnerability with grace and integrity, you aren’t ashamed of what makes you human. When you have something you are working on, like a flaw or a weakness, you don’t mind showing it to them. So they can only acknowledge the emotional maturity that comes with that ability, i.e. they think you can do that because you are emotionally secure.

You ‘make’ them feel calm, to be honest, it’s like being around you put them into this introspective mode. They start thinking and pondering life, and feeling open to having their perspectives changed, to shift their understanding, and to look deeper into things. You make them more philosophical, and possibly also spiritual. Maybe through their observation of you, or words that you say; they learn more about the world and themselves, about their previous beliefs and misconceptions and how these can change, about a better way to be, a better approach to take, nuances they haven’t considered. They are also more patient around you, gentler and slower to react. They feel more open and willing to change their ways and adapt to you. Some of them are also more open to giving you what you need, even if it’s not something they normally do.

EXTENDED VERSION IS ON PATREON! What do men who are romantically interested in you think about you? How do they see you? Is it the same or is it different? Do they notice the real you? 🫢 Find out here! 👀📝

[shes2real]

The Bloodline dating shy!reader — Headcannon ♡

୨୧ roman loves his shy girl! he’s so tender and affectionate with you, he has so many nicknames that suits ur shy personality. they range from “sweetheart”, “beautiful,” and his favorite, “my sweet girl ”. his patience has no boundaries as he encourages you to take things at your pace! while you two were attending a low-key event, you held onto his hand tightly. sensing your nervousness, roman pulled you close, and reassured you, "it’s okay, sweet girl. you’re safe with me."

୨୧ he loves rough sex but when it comes to you, he knows that you’re always in for the ride (no pun intended) even when it’s hard for you to verbally express what you want. he loves to communicate with you by using ur safewords. you love it when he uses ur throat, it makes you so wet happy! his hands gently removed your mouth off his dick as he looked at you, “what color, baby? you okay?” your eyes fluttered with satisfaction. “green,” you said hoarsely, smiling at him before taking him back into your mouth.

୨୧ his love language is physical touch. he’s always touching you whether it’s hugs, tender kisses, or he’s simply rubbing you through ur panties to help you sleep. he knows that you need it but truthfully, he needs it too…it has built a strong bond between you guys. the comfort and reassurance of his gentle touches always makes you feel so much better <3

୨୧ jimmy is such a goofball and he’ll do anything to make you smile! there’s never a dull moment with him, especially when he sees you dressing up. you’ve always been so shy to dress up around him, even though he’s seen every ounce of your body. but that never stops him from hyping you up. he leans against the door frame, his eyes lighting up as he sees you, “damn! you look good asf!,” he gives you a twirl while he grins mischievously, “got me ready to take you down right here, girl!”

୨୧ he loves any position where he can watch your love faces, which you have a love/hate relationship with. as he’s sinking deeper inside of you, stretching you out, he watches you with admiration. you quickly cover your mouth, causing him to remove your hand, “don’t hide them pretty sounds from me, baby.” but hours later he’s mocking ur moans as u playfully hit him, “stooppp!”

୨୧ jimmy’s love language is acts of service. especially when you find it extremely hard to order your own food while you two are out on dates. even though you’ve rehearsed it a million times, you’ll stumble on ur words or forget what you want to order! but jimmy eagerly steps in, not just ordering for you, but making sure it's exactly what you want, ensuring your meal is as perfect as you are to him. even when life gets tough, he's your unwavering support. whether you need a listening ear or a comforting embrace, he’s there, ready to wrap you in his arms, and whispering his favorite line, "we like bonnie and clyde, boo! i gotcho' back!" but it’s not just a line; it's his promise to always be by your side, through thick and thin! <3

୨୧ jey is extremely family oriented. if he’s not yelling “yeet” every five minutes, he’s spending time with his large family. as you’re surrounded by his family, you feel a pang of anxiety. just when you start to feel overwhelmed, he leans in close and places a gentle hand on ur thigh as he whispers softly, "you don't have to be anyone but yourself with me, i promise." as time passes, you find urself interacting with a few of his cousins! with jey’s support, you’re always accomplishing something new <3

୨୧ “want you to choke me,” you mewled as jey fucked you. there was no reason for you to be so shy, his nasty ass is with whatever you’re with! he smirked as one hand squeezed your throat while the other teased your clit. your eyes rolled as he thrusted into you while toying with ur clit, he felt you grow wetter as his grip tightened, “this shit doin’ it for you mama? you like it when daddy choke you?” drool formed in the corners of ur mouth as your orgasm coursed through you. jey flashes you a dangerous smile, “let it out f’ me..that’s a good girl.”

୨୧ ofc, jey’s love language is physical touch! no matter where you are, he is quick to rest his hand on your lower back. his thumb is always caressing you softly, a little reminder of his presence. even his possessive yet firm grip makes you feel comfortable. as he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side, he asks you, “you ight, mama?” you press your body against his, giving him a simple nod.

୨୧ solo’s extremely laidback. you two are so compatible! the only problem is..he doesn’t say much. but he makes up for it! from making your favorite food to holding you close during movie marathons. however, when your shyness surfaces, he can't help but pout, urging you to loosen up.

୨୧ he’s so vocal in bed, it’s soooo attractive! but he also has a humiliation kink, which is just great. “use ur words, baby,” he purred, pressing the rose toy firmer against your sensitive clit. “p-please please…can i cum?” your legs were trembling and tears were streaming down your cheeks as you felt yourself about to burst. “let it out princess,” even though he let you cum, you had to thank him for being so generous. he was gonna get you to talk one way or another.

୨୧ his love language being quality time means he treasures every moment he spends helping you explore new things aka getting you out of your shell. date nights and vacations with him are always full of surprises; you never know what he has planned next. a sip n’ paint was the location of ur date night with solo. surrounded by the soothing ambiance, you instantly began to relax. solo notices the change in ur demeanor and leans over to kiss you. "So proud of you, princess.” <3

Thanks for reading babe ☁️🌷

・❥ ・ @blcst4r @romanreignsbae @pittieprincess22 @cyberdejos2 @xoxoril3yyy @rwbypatootie @solefae @empressdede @adoreesun @alyyaanna @shantinextdoor @zombiedixon89 @acknowledge-reigns @browneyedgirlfriend4l @girlnred @theasiaabattoir @glitterywitchstarlight @brienivl @melaninpvssypoppin @nashalis97-blog @truefant4sy

[undercoverpena]

11. dusky pink

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter eleven of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.7k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a boy!dad, luca appearance. an: this one is called jo kicked her feet mid-writing and editing.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

“You didn’t have to come to help me.”

Tilting your head, a grin playing at the corners of your lips, you adjust the apron he gave you. “I don’t mind. Plus, you did promise me food after, so.”

A hint of mischief dances in his eyes, tongue sweeping across his lower lip. “So, if I want to persuade you to do something, I should wave a carrot in your face.”

Smirking, biting down on your cheek as you slide the boxed screws onto the shelf. “Oh, you can definitely wave something in front of my face.”

It's instant, the way his mouth falls open, hanging. Frankie's arm pauses, mid-air, on the shelf as he stares, blinks, and eventually clears his throat. “That's… good to know.”

“Your voice cracked there a little bit.”

Glancing at you from the corner of his eye, body beginning to restock again, you watch as he swallows, his forehead crinkling. Did it?”

Laughing, you remove the empty box from the cart—grabbing the Stanley knife attached to the side of it to slice open the next.

Even though you've been here at night before, it's different being down the aisles than when you shared food. There's an eerie stillness that hangs in the air under the low lights, punctuated by the occasional creak of the shelving when the two of you stack something. The strong scent of disinfectant is wavering from its assault on your senses, mingling with the musty odour of warehouse cardboard boxes. A smell that worsens, for a moment, each time one of you empties and flattens it.

But, you wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Finding yourself charmed by the place. Although, you suspect it's by the man beside you. The one who had been prepared to do all of this himself all evening.

“Frankie?” you ask, hearing him hmm. “You ever thought of owning this place? Maybe, making it your own or something?”

Snorting, he shakes his head as his fingers slide to itch at the back of his forearm. “No. Not… Well, I’ve thought about it, obviously. Not owning this place, but…”

“But...?”

Shrugging, mouth open, all but chewing his response as he stacks the shelf and answers with, “Doesn't matter. Wouldn’t be good at it.”

Scoffing, you lift your head, finding him staring. “Sorry, I’ll scoff quieter next time.”

“It's a lot of work. And, it's risky. The place can barely afford me, never mind someone else.”

Shaking his head, you see that look appear—the disbelieving one—catching it flutter across his face. His attempt at making it unreadable fails, as you spot it written all over his expression, practically in bold, italic, and underlined; all very much screaming he very much believes he couldn’t.

Continuing, he shrugs, nostrils flaring under a sigh. “S’not worth thinking about. Got bills. Luca. I… I failed him once, don’t wanna do it again.”

Dropping the contents back into the box, you don't think when you gently lay a hand on his arm, urging him to look. You're just grateful that he does.

Head tilting, trying to find words you swap easily for the truth. “I know I don’t know the version of you from back then, but I really doubt you failed him. You were trying to do the best you could, with what you had.”

His gaze meets yours, a blend of gratitude and uncertainty shimmering in his eyes. “I… just...I want to do right by him now, you know?”

“I know,” you answer softly, giving his arm a comforting squeeze. “And for what it's worth, I think you're doing an amazing job.”

He gives a small, appreciative smile at your words, eyes blinking past you as if trying to process the unexpected validation. Then, when his eyes fall back to you, his smile widens ever so slightly, a gleam of hope seemingly emerging from the shadows of doubt.

“I think you could do something like this.”

Flicking his eyes from yours to your lips, he smiles. “I don’t wanna own this.”

“What do you want then?” Hand sliding back inside the box, pulling out glue—the industrial kind, you imagine—that thankfully is labelled. “Outside of me helping you restock after hours.”

Grinning, he shakes his head. “Haven’t given it much thought.”

Smiling to yourself, turning the labels out, you leave him in silence for a moment. Letting him think, stew. “Not renovating?”

Tipping his head, his eyes meet yours—something twinkling in them. Shimmering. It makes you wonder to yourself if he’s ever been given a chance to think about something that he wants in a while.

“Maybe. I don’t know,” he replies, evidence there of a smile, of something turning, cogs shifting.

“Could get Luca to help—get him a mini tool belt.”

Laughing, he nudges you. “He’d charm them all into giving us free coffee.”

“From the stories you’ve told me, I don’t doubt it.”

It’s then he slides his hand across your back, fingers fanning, spreading warmth through the thin fabric covering your spine. “You still looking forward to meeting him?”

“Only when I don’t overthink it, and worry about the possibility of making the only person who matters in your world cry or something,” you smile, hand gesturing. “Outside of that thought process, very excited.”

Shaking his head, he steps closer, arm sliding around your waist—lips pressing to the top of your head. “Don’t tell him dinosaurs are extinct and you’re good.”

“Noted,” you whisper, staring up at him.

Eyes holding his, lingering. Your throat becomes full with letters, lips rolling as you weigh up whether it’s worth saying them—confessing them.

Instead, you press your mouth to his—hoping he can taste them, and how badly you want to share them.

Did you put that song over your latest Reel for my benefit?

If I did, was it appreciated?

I’m disappointed it’s not the loud-cat-screeching version I gave you in the car, but guess the original would be more well-known.

I want to keep that version, selfishly, to myself.

Just like I want to keep the photo of you with fries in your mouth just for me.

See, we have our things. Thanks for the help putting the Reel together.

I liked being your camerawoman. But next time, could I have a clapboard—maybe one of those chairs that says ‘Director’ on it?

I think I could find something for you to sit on.

Think that movie is something we’d selfishly keep to ourselves.

Be a good movie, though.

[SENDS PHOTO]

Wow, I didn’t even know they did coffees that large.

It was a special request. I told you she’s persuasive.

I wish I wasn’t on my own, otherwise I’d come down and see you both.

You just want her to get you a large coffee. Which I think she would—she likes you.

Rainy, that is the largest coffee I’ve ever seen. I’m glad she does. It matters your friends like me like mine like you.

Yours love me.

I am very aware.

If you’re good, I might drop you one off before I go home.

Have I told you how pretty you are today?

Such a charmer. [SENDS PHOTO]

See I knew you looked pretty.

Waiting, nerves prickling beneath your skin, your fingers interlacing tightly as you flick your eyes from the array of items you've arranged to the still-closed front door.

For the past, so many minutes, you've paced, chewed your cheeks, and endlessly rearranged the items on the table until they blur into a mess of neatness or chaos, you're not quite sure anymore.

Because it matters. Not just to him but to you.

Speaking to Luca (briefly, and on the phone) is so wildly different from meeting him. A thing you're aware of.

It's big. Fucking huge. A thing that you don't take lightly, or ever wish to. Not the permission to meet him, or the fact it's happening. It's why it keeps churning inside of you, bubbling and swimming up your throat; hands wringing out in front of you, thinking over what you'll do when his big eyes draw out the shape of you, standing there, waiting for you, this person who has entered his dad’s life, to say or do something.

You suppose that’s why your fingernail has migrated to scratching at the skin on your index finger, why your stomach is doing somersaults—more so when you hear the sound of Frankie’s vehicle pulling onto his drive.

You’ve got this. You can do this. Just breathe, just breathe, just—

The door finally opens, and there he is. The biggest eyes meet yours, all curious and wide. Even if the shadow of Frankie is behind him, you don’t take your eyes off Luca. Offering a small, reassuring smile, hoping it’ll be enough to show you’re trustworthy as he steps hesitantly into the room.

Not bending over, but crouching down, you let him approach. Watching as Frankie takes his jacket from his son before the soft introduction you've practised over and over again rolls from you—the sweet hello, followed by your name and I’m your dad’s friend.

And you knew it from photos—from the glimpses of the boy in front of you—but he has his eyes. Those soft, expressive eyes twinkle and shimmer at you as he offers his tiny hand for you to shake. One you take happily, with nothing but joy.

“Hey,” you say, voice soft and friendly. “I've heard so much about you.”

He looks at you for a moment longer, taking in your presence. Then, with a shy smile, he mumbles, “Hi.”

Frankie, watching the interaction from the doorway, closes the door, stepping further into the room as he presses his hand to Luca’s shoulder.

"Luca, you remember her from the phone?” He pauses, looking at you for a moment, before finishing, “...the one who struggled to say Aegyptosaurus.”

Narrowing your eyes a little, you smirk playfully at Frankie, the slightest shake of your head as you stare at the boy—warmth spreading through you as Luca begins to grin.

“Speaking of dinosaurs, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to help me with something?” you ask, gaze flicking up to Frankie who gives a supportive nod. “So, I’ve found this colouring book full of dinosaurs inside your Daddy’s coffee table, and I’m not sure what colours to make them.”

Slowly, his face shifts—from a questionable blank one to a slow smile that has the shadow of his dad’s, but breaks into something you assume must be his mom’s.

And god, it’s the most beautiful smile you think you’ve ever seen.

“Sure, I can helps,” Luca says, walking to the coffee table where the book is—before he’s beckoning you, little fingers urging you to come closer.

And you take a breath, a sigh—letting it flow into your lungs, as you reply with a quick ‘coming’ before you glance at the man still giving you both space.

Joining Luca on the floor, you sit cross-legged, the book propped up already on the table as colouring pens, crayons and pencils begin littering the wood not covered by un-coloured pages.

He's eager, flipping through the book, pointing out the different dinosaurs and naming them with an enthusiastic flourish that makes you chuckle. But, when he finds one, he stops. Head tilting from side to side, little finger tapping on the page before he sighs.

“This one!”

Grinning, you take a closer look. “Perfect.”

His smile mirrors yours, before he copies the pitch of your perfect and begins grasping for colours as he hands them to you.

“What’s your favourite dinosaur, Luca?”

Pausing, Luca brings his finger to his lips—dabbing it, scrunching his face before it explodes into a grin so large it almost makes you laugh. “Stegosaurus.”

“Cause of the spikey back?”

Nodding, he grins even wider, doing a little wiggle. “His name means roof lizard, you know that?” Shaking your head, he scrunches his nose as the corner of his lips rises. “And, and it used its back to defend himself.”

“He has a little beak too, right?”

Nodding, Luca begins to scribble his crayon onto the page. "You know him?"

“I’ve been doing my research.”

At Luca’s loud wow, and insistence on you using a colour he doesn’t like—maroon, which looks barely used—you glance towards Frankie, finding him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, fingers lazily tracing up and down the back of his arm, while sporting a soft smile.

Returning your attention to Luca, you spend the next hour engrossed in colouring (a thing you discover you’re doing wrong), dinosaur facts (you’re not sure how he knows so many) and hilarious stories. Finding, with each passing minute, the anxiety sliding from your bones, it falling from you altogether—slipping away, disappearing completely the more Luca interacts.

The two of you only come to a stop when Frankie mentions that it’s almost dinner time, putting the cap on your pen down.

“Hey, Luca. I have to go now. But, I’ve had the best time.”

“You’re not wanting to stay for dinner?” he asks, eyes full of hope as you spot his fist clenched around the pen he’s pressing to the page—the colour bleeding out.

Leaning forward, you smile. “Next time, promise.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Thanks so much for letting me colour with you.”

Getting up, suppressing a groan as your body aches from having to unfold itself from sitting cross-legged, you find Frankie waiting, his expression soft and tender.

“Hi handsome,” you whisper, taking the jacket from his hands.

Frankie leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead—all out of view, just like the two of you had agreed. “You did good,” he tells you quietly. “He likes you.”

Heart swelling at his words, you look back at Luca, who is now animatedly talking to his colouring book, and you find yourself unable to stop smiling.

“I like him too,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

And as you listen to Luca's excited chatter, you realise just how much you mean it.

Think you have a new fan.

Stop, do I really?

Apparently, you’re very pretty, and old like me, and so I should kiss you.

Well, not that I love all of those sentiments, I do like the last one.

Do you want me to call when he’s in bed?

You not sick of me?

Not even a little bit.

I’ll wrap up these amends, shower and then I’m all yours.

The image of you covered in soap suds is going to get me through the next half an hour of this show.

It vibrates softly against the bedsheets, your smile spreading—replacing the earlier irksome client and the nervousness from your afternoon.

“He hasn’t shut up about you.”

No hello. Just a continuation, as if the two of you had only paused from the texting to now. Biting your cheek, you smile, knees pulling up as you feel your Lee scrunch.

“Yeah?”

“Baby, he’s pulled out books to show you the next time you come round.”

Grinning, you sigh. “He’s really great, Frankie. He’s so funny? You never told me how funny he was, and how smart. God, when he—”

And you ramble.

For longer than you’re even aware of as you accidentally go into a play-by-play from this morning—as though the man hadn’t been loitering, standing close by or joining in when Luca’s stories got more outrageous. A standout favourite had been Frankie saving the neighbour's lion from a tree, which had turned out to be a cat called Leon.

“—Also, how does he know so much about dinosaurs? And, fuck—Frankie. Did I just ramble to you about your own son?”

You hear his laugh, real and airy, flow down the phone. “I like it, don’t worry. It’s nice hearing you ramble.”

“You’re a filthy liar.”

With a deep, resonant snort, his sigh of contentment drifts through the phone, making your body, in response, relax. Every muscle slowly uncoils, back sinking further into the plush comfort of the bed beneath you. Ear meeting the pillow as it wrinkles gently under the weight of your head.

“Did it… do you think it went as well as you thought?”

“Better,” he confesses, hearing the breath he releases with it.

Biting your lip, you settle yourself further into your duvet—resting your back against the pillows. “Have I told you today that I really like you?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line.”

Smirking, you rest your tongue between your teeth.

“And, really like? That’s a new one.”

“Well,” you grin, unable to fight a smile, “Felt you deserved the extra word.”

Rolling your head, you trace your teeth over your bottom lip—hearing it, absorbing it, the way he repeats it back. I really like you too. The words find a home, rather than sliding in one ear and out the other. Burying themselves, slotting into a place so perfect as they fit so snugly.

A comfortable beat passes, a moment to linger in it before he asks about your work—about the latest thing you’re working on. Even if you always feel you’ll bore him, he always surprises you by reminding you he won’t be. Engaged, asking questions. Listening and recalling back to things you’ve said before, that you suspect most wouldn’t have paid much mind to.

But, then, he’s not anyone.

“I think I left my hoodie at yours.”

Humming, you hear sheets rustling, before rummaging. “Um, the—yes, yeah you have. I’ll hang it up for you.”

“Only if you have the space too.”

“Well, this is… awkward. I wanted to do it in person—”

Even if there’s no indication to do so, your stomach knots. Tangles. Your heart slams into your chest as your throat, all of a sudden, dries.

“I… fuck, if this is too much tell me, but I’ve made you some space—in my wardrobe. And a drawer. And—”

“And, Frankie? How much space are you giving me?”

Swallowing, you hear him click his tongue. “Well... I mean, as much as you want, baby.”

“Frankie…”

“Have I… Is it too much?”

Pulling your knees up, grinning. Quickly wanting to fire a text to your friend and scream HE’S MADE ME A DRAWER, only stopping yourself because, instead, you, all high-pitched and squeaky ask if you can swap to video. Fingers trembling, your face filling the screen before you can eventually push it to the corner when his greets yours.

“You’re so sweet, thank you—it isn’t too much. Not even a little bit. I want—if you want—to give you the same.”

Laughing lowly, you watch him slide back into bed—the freckles on his collarbone illuminated by the bedside lamp. “Baby, you have half my tools at your house—you’ve made plenty of room for me.”

“Yeah, that toolbox is a health hazard—it is very heavy.”

“I’ll make sure to move it next time”

Scrunching your nose. “Oh no, I moved it. Managed to find some strength from somewhere to do so. That’s my workout for the week.”

Shaking his head, you watch him get into bed—arm resting above his head, fingers teasing at his curls as he smiles at you—eyes somehow just as bright even in low light as he begins telling you about his day tomorrow.

You watch, noticing the little lift of his lips when he talks about Benny, when he mentions taking Luca to training—which in turn (he explains) means Luca bosses them around and they all have to listen. Then after they’ll go on a boys’ lunch, where ice cream is usually consumed, the tradition having started when Luca was teething.

“Send me a photo—post-training.”

His tongue slides into his cheek, eyebrow lifting as he stares at you.

“Dripping in sweat do it for you, Rainy?”

“I’m not rewatching your Reels because I want to use a circle-saw, Frankie. Plus, you look so good in sweats—that black pair. Fuck.”

Chuckling to himself, he runs his hand over his face—and you imagine his cheeks are warm, that if the lighting were better, you’d see the beginning of his pink embarrassment crawling up his neck.

Yawning and stretching, you reach for your charger, plugging it in before moving to lie on your side, hearing him ask—as soft, and as sleepily, as he would if you were next to him—you comfy, baby? as your heart does a little flicker as you rest the phone against the pillow.

“Very,” you assure him, pulling the duvet closer around you. “Be more comfy if you were here.”

“Would you, though?”

Hesitating, you hum—hearing the lightest laugh come from him. “You’re very warm—like a furnace. I like it.”

“That all I’m good for, warming your bed?”

Smirking, your eyes heavy, you sigh. “You have some other uses.”

“I’m glad I’m useful.”

Settling further into the bed, hearing him shuffle and rustle from his end, you clear your throat to ask, “Do you think you'd rather have a pineapple for a head or a watermelon?”

Even with your eyes struggling to stay open, you sneak a glance to see his grin break out. “I'd love to live in your head.”

“You sure about that?”

Snorting, he shakes his head, fingers pushing the hair back from his forehead. “Pineapple. Sweeter for you to kiss.”

“You're so thoughtful.”

Giggling, you find a response sitting on your tongue, it just not able to form as you hum again—finding yourself so comfortable and warm under the sheets you’re barely able to hang onto his voice until he whispers ‘baby’. A little noise coming from you that in your head is clearly words, but not to anyone else.

Only realising it isn’t when he says your name. Calls it.

“Frankie…”

“Baby, why don’t we hang—“

“No,” you groan, the O sound stretching out—hardly with any intent. More said with tenderness and pouting than anything as you hear him chuckle. “I’ll wake up.”

“No, don’t… don’t do that. I’ll stay—listen to you snore.”

Flicking your eyes open, glaring at the screen. “I do not snore.”

Chuckling, his voice wraps around you like a warm blanket. “Sure, baby. You just keep telling yourself that.”

“Francisco!”

His laugh roars down the phone, making your cheeks hurt from smiling, shaking your head against the pillow as his laugh turns to an ‘aww’.

“Do you know how pretty you look right now?”

“You can barely see me, Morales. Stop trying to flatter me.”

Somehow, his laugh is even louder than it was before. And somehow, your smile is larger too.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[scarletwinterxx]

middle finger and promise rings - jaehyun scenario

helllooooo a fluff moment with jung jaehyun. I was scrolling through tiktok the other day and I found a compilation of him laughing and it was the cutest thing ever so now we're here😅

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics nad gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

Jaehyun enters the apartment and the first thing he hears is your laugh. He hangs his jacket on the hook, takes off his shoes before walking towards the living room where he sees you lying on the couch giggling to yourself.

You spot him over your phone, quickly turning it off when you spot your boyfriend "Hi, you're home early" you greet him, walking towards him.

He smiles at you, opening his arms to give you a very much needed hug. He does everyday, without a fail. Whenever he gets home from work or somewhere, he asks for a hug from you.

"What were you watching?" he asks

"You"

"Huh?" he peaks down at you, still caged in his arms

"I was looking through my phone then I saw a bunch of videos, like from when we started dating until recent. You looked cute, especially when you laugh" you answer him

"I thought my laugh was loud" he chuckles, letting you to sit on the couch. You follow him, taking the seat beside him.

"It is. But I love it so much, you know you have this kind of laugh when you find something really funny and your face scrunches up in a cute way" you try to mimic it while Jaehyun watches.

You might as well tell him you'll marry him with the way you're making his heart explode right now. Moments like these are what he looks forward to the most when he comes home. The simple conversations with you, no matter how random they are, he cherishes them so much.

"Oh by the way, can we order chicken and pasta for dinner? Or chinese food? I can't decide, how about you what do you want?"

"Chinese sounds good, do you want me to call our favorite place?" he asks, already getting his phone out

"Okay, and this came in today by the way" you say, passing the package that arrived today. "What is it?" you ask, while waiting for him to open it

"I forgot, must've ordered this a long time ago"

Without checking the label he opens it. When he flips the unsealed package upside down, a velvet box falls on his lap.

The two of you freeze.

He should've checked the label. Jaehyun internally panics.

Meanwhile you don't say anything, waiting for him to do or say something. But he doesn't so you clear your throat, getting your phone on the table "I'll order, tell me if you want anything else" you tell him.

"Uh yea sure" Jaehyun swallows the lump in his throat, finally coming to his senses. Taking the box before excusing himself. You hear the bedroom door open and close.

After that night you don't mention anything about it. You didn't ask questions. You acted like you didn't see it. Jaehyun wondered if he should ask but he doesn't know where to start.

What do you think it was, did you have your suspicions, were you upset with him? These are the questions running in his mind. But you never said anything to him, like everything was normal.

He was debating if he should've just showed you what was inside. If you were thinking it was a ring then you're right.

About a few months ago, he ordered a ring after finally getting your size. He's still worrying if you'll like it. It's not an engagement rring, not yet atleast. The ring inside was a promise ring for you. You told him a story about wearing a ring ever since your teen years, way back before the two of you met. You bought yourself a ring, a promise to exchange it to something else when you get yourself a boyfriend.

You showed him the ring before, it was a simple metal band you used to wear on your middle finger. You never took it off, not a day. That was until he asked you to be his girlfriend.

Of course he had to get you a new one, he was just waiting for the right time to give it to you.

He forgot to check the email about the shipping and didn't expect it to arrive when it did. It definitely wasn't part of the plan to open it infront of you.

It's been a few weeks since then. You honestly kind off forgot about it. You trust Jaehyun will tell you in the right time.

Tonight, he's running a bit late. He got caught up in a meeting so when he got home you were already sleeping. He enters the apartment carefully, walking through the hallway and cracking the bedroom door slowly.

The lights were all off, the only light coming from outside but he can see your silhouette from under the blanket. Quickly but quietly he gets ready for bed, sliding beside you.

He turns sideways to watch you, eyes closed, face peaceful, breathing slow and quite. You're giving off the most serene aura, he can't think of anything else but you.

Your hand was resting open beside your head, he reaches a finger out to trace random patterns while still watching you. He missed you so much today, he don't want to wake you up but he wishes he can give you a hug.

He does that for quite some time, tracing things on your palm while watching you waiting for sleep to come to him too.

From random patterns, to short words. He's now tracing random words on your palm, like you always do with his. You always do it randomly, in public or when it's just the two of you. Most times you spell out the word 'I love you' on his palm, that was actually how you said it to him for the first time. It took him some time to finally realize it, and when he did looked over at you with a surprised look. Saying the same three words back at you.

Right now he traces the word 'mine' in yours, while his mind wonders just how lucky he is to have you in his life.

He believes this isn't the only lifetime he'll love you, it isn't possible. Wishing hoping praying that in all alternate universes, however many there are, that version of him meets their version of you.

Suddenly feelings emotional, he sits up on the bed before reaching for something in the bedside drawer.

You're a light sleeper, especially when you're by yourself. The only time you really fall into deep sleep is when Jaehyun's with you. That's why when you hear some ruckus from Jaehyun's side, you wake up from your slumber

"Jae? You're home?" you mumble, your eyes still closed

"Did I wake you? Sorry, baby. Go back to sleep, I'm here" he whispers. He pulls you towards him, resting your head on his chest. You cuddle him more, making yourself comfortable again.

You listen to his heartbeat to lull yourself back to sleep when you feel him take your hand that was resting on him, he puts something on you before you feel his lips kiss your knuckles.

"What are you doing?" you mumble, opening one eye to peak at your hand only to see a ring that definitely wasn't there before you slept.

You open both eyes this time, sitting up to look at it then at Jaehyun

"Explain" you tell him, gesturing at your hand

"It's a promise ring, remember you used to wear one before we started dating. It took sometime but I finally replaced that one, I didn't want to freak you out on our first anniversary so I waited until now" he explains

"Is this real or am I dreaming?" you ask him

Jaehyun chuckles before sitting up, now face to face with you. He takes your cheeks in his hands before pulling you towards him for a kiss

"This is very very real, my love"

"It's so pretty" you pout at the ring, a simple band with a diamond on it. Like a leveled up version of the one you used to wear

"I'm glad you like it even though I kinda ruined the surprise" he tells you

"I thought it was an engagement ring, not gonna lie"

He kisses you one more time before he pulls you down, settling you on his chest once again. "We'll get there one day. This time I'll make sure it's a surprise"

"But I am surprised, I love this surprise"

"And I love you, that ring is a promise to keep my promise of forever with you. One day we'll get there, one day I'll watch you walk down the aisle to me" he mumbles against your forehead, sealing it with a kiss after

"I'd love that, and I love you too"

"Let's go to sleep now, dream of me okay?"

[coffe-and-tea-time]

KEEP PRETENDING TO SLEEP! KEEP PRETENDING TO SLEEP!!!

HEHEHEHEHEHE I WAS WAITING TO COOK THIS

Coffee insanely speaking! Thanks Dear, you gimme the perfect excuse to write a second part just in time although I expected the option of talking to him to come first. Not that I'm complaining lol

➤ first part

➤ here to see the other option

↪︎ ☾ I love to see you ....................................... .......................................☆ I love to hear you↩︎

TW: yandere behavior, delusions, murder of self-preservation, stalking, obssesion, somewhat willing reader, kinda denying of bad decisions

Of course, the best option is to stay still, not because you are enjoying this no no, of course not...

Despite his soft voice that sounds rather familiar, you can't really recall who or where. So the safest option is just giving in at the moment, you didn't know how he could react so the safer the better, isn't it?

A smile starts creeping on your face against your will, seems like you are a rather bad actor when it's required, huh? 

“Oh, I'm really glad, you seem like you're finally having a good dream… will it be too greedy if I want to be inside that little dream of yours? Well, if you find that greedy, you won't be able to handle me later”

Hearing a close mouthed giggle following the whisper makes your heart flutter softly, like this is some kind of really romantic scene in his mind. You were able to hear the faint sound of footsteps, he seems like he's doing a little room tour, making it a little hard to hear him.

“Oh Dear, you were researching that thing again?”

It seems like he found his way into your phone, what was he referring to?

“Why do you keep reading so much about romance? Are these words good enough to keep your focus?... Maybe I have to start practicing oral expression? It's been a while since I felt like that, last time was when you downloaded that stupid dating sim… This is truly irritating, the names they use, the way they ‘communicate’ to you; do no justice, I can express myself way better, my love, and how my eyes change when I see you walking by… just... please, I need only one chance, and I promise you won't have a room left for doubts”

Even though he made the effort to lower his voice in order to 'not wake you up', it's clear how his tone is changing with every word depending on the topic; First, a low hint of infatuation, then, what sounds closer to a plead and, finally,...was that...hopelessness?

Honestly, in a normal situation, you would be annoyed by someone searching through your phone but only an idiot would think this man would judge you even if you had pictures of dead people there, more like he's genuinely looking for more of you, despite the fact that it's really not the ‘proper’ way, you can't say it didn't work.

“My beloved Cherry, what can i do for you to talk to me? Those characters seem to steal your attention quickly… I would be lying if I sad I'm not a little hopeful because of them though, you seem to have quite the specific taste, Cherry, and I believe I fit perfectly on them... if only I could find the right moment to get into your routine, to be part of your life…”

Weird that he worries about getting to talk to you with an ideal scene but not worrying about stalking you, but maybe it's kind of understable? Since well, everyone likes to check on their crush on social media even if they take a while to actually talk, even if this guy took it a little too far, he sounds... harmless like his wish is just to win your affection…

wait a second…

Are you truly relaxed in this kind of situation? What is going on with you? Why? Why… well, can't say you didn't ask for this, even as a joke, you know this time is different because it's real, but… why does reality feel like a fantasy right now? Is it because of him?

“Huh, I come here as a routine by now, I still get the same queries, I’m dying to find the answers soon..”

Sensing that lightly sweet fragrance once more makes you know he’s approaching your ‘sleeping’ form once again, making it easy to hear him despite his constant whispering.

“Would you let me cuddle you? Would you let me kiss you? Would you mind if I were clingy? Would you mind if I get jealous? Would you mind if it seems like I already know more about you than I should? I want to hold you my dear, I can’t wait for the day I can just snuggle with you every time we want… I really can’t wait anymore, I need to be closer to you… I guess I have no option other than to talk to you out of the blue, I dislike to be so imprudent, but I promise I will make up for it once you accept me in your life, Love”

You feel a gentle hand slightly caress your cheek as a little peck is placed on your forehead, making you almost smile like a fool if it weren’t for the fact that pretending to sleep is your priority in this sweet moment, unexpected but called for moment.

“Sweet dreams Cherry, I have to prepare what I should say tomorrow, I will put all of my efforts to be my best self to make a good first impression, I hope I snatch enough of your interest to be on your mind even for a moment”

Oh, he is definitely gonna be stuck in your mind for a while, as you try your best to focus on the sounds, you catch his steps as he seems to walk away… but you keep up with your act just in case.

So, tomorrow, huh? Seems like once again you have important decisions in your hand, should you indulge in your fantasy and let him get near you? It also sounds fun to go to him first… But, maybe you should try to avoid him? It’s the safer choice, but do you really want that? He seems safe enough not to raise any of your flags, he seemed so caring for you…

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

images from pinterest

[youandiwerealive]

Só quero ir para casa, para ti [rd]

Author’s note: my best friend described this as “disgustingly cute”, so here you have some cute dad!Rúben to compensate for the last one 🫣 thank you to the anon who requested this, hope you enjoy it! Mwah mwah

wc: 1601- English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

Rúben absolutely hates being far from you, especially now that you’re pregnant with your second baby.

He is currently in Abu Dhabi with the team, preparing the upcoming season. Not only is he 4 hours ahead in the clock, he is also full of trainings and recovery sessions - leaving him so little time to talk to you.

You are now five months pregnant and your baby is starting to kick and move like crazy inside of you. You try your best to show everything to Rúben, not wanting him to feel left out for losing all these special moments. But, you both agree that video calls might help a bit to ease the sadness of being away from each other, but those minutes don’t really make up from all the time that Rúben spends without his wife, daughter and son.

Every time he looks at you through his phone screen, he can’t help but think how beautiful you look, the pregnancy glow really showing again - more and more each day now. He misses you like crazy, even just a couple of hours would already be too much time away from you and your family, but spending weeks so far is killing him already.

He especially misses sleeping next to your belly, wanting to feel as close to his boy as possible, while Matilde is wrapped strongly in his arms. He misses the way you would laugh when he peppered your belly with kisses. He misses talking to his children - having full conversations about every thing and anything at the same time, really. Always promising his entire love and dedication to the other love of his life, his baby - Dinis.

Rúben has been sad lately, thinking non-stop about all the times you call him, or send him videos of his son moving inside your belly. He hasn’t felt it yet. Every single time the baby decides to move, he’s not around, and when he is, Dinis decides to keep quiet.

“Maybe he is just shy. He’ll move for you when he feels like it, we can’t rush these things” - you would always say to him, trying to get a bit of all the guilt Rúben held upon his shoulders to go away. Why wouldn’t the light of his life kick for him? He even smiled at the first time you told him in between laughs ‘he’s not kicking because he’s afraid that you’ll tackle him’. Yeah, jokes about him being a footballer and his son not kicking around him.

But lately he has been feeling down, his mind thinking about that all the time. What if his baby gets here and doesn’t feel comfortable enough around him? He would always move to the sound of her mom’s voice, but not to his. Matilde was a very active baby, always moving and kicking to the sound of her dad’s voice - totally a daddy’s girl, still today being always glued to him, playing him with, sleeping with him, cuddling with him.

Either way, Rúben is tired, missing you, his princess and his baby. You are video chatting once again, him seeing how his boy’s tiny feet would mark your belly and talking to his princess, Matilde. He tries to smile, glad to see his baby moving once again, even if he’s not there to feel the sensation.

You can sense that he is a little down, but you try to shrug it off since he said he was feeling tired and sleepy.

“Tenho tantas saudades vossas” (I miss you so much) - he says lowly, like his voice is threatening to start shaking if he speaks any louder.

You smile, understanding why he is so down. “We miss you too” - you say to your husband, noticing how his face falls.

However, the voice of his angel on earth brings a smile to appear on Rúben’s face. “Volta rápido, papá” (come back soon, daddy) - Matilde says, showing his daddy her newest growing teeth, that has been giving her mommy so much trouble and sleepless nights.

“Eu já só quero ir para casa, para vocês” (I just want to go home, to you) - by the way he is talking portuguese to you, you know he really means it. He takes the value of saudade very seriously, no translation can do that feeling justice.

Rúben goes to sleep with a headache. Maybe he should stop pushing his baby, stop begging him to kick into his hand. Maybe he should go back home with a different mindset. Trying to fight some kind of war with his son really sounds crazy to him, and he kind of hates himself for being so annoyed about something so trivial as that.

When he finally goes home, after so many weeks apart, you and Matilde are waiting home to greet him, you even cooked your daughter’s favourite cake - she insisted so she could share it with her daddy on their usual tea party, something that has became a tradition between Rúben and her already.

Berny the bunny and Johnny the bear are patiently waiting on the three year old girl’s lap for her most important guest to arrive - the little girl anxiously setting every thing up.

When you hear the door handle click open, Matilde immediately runs to the door.

“Papá, papá! You’re home!” - she girl screams as Rúben immediately picks her up and wraps her on his arms, taking in the wonderful and unmistakable scent of his daughter, breathing deeply and hugging her tightly, scared that she would run away if he puts her down - but she would never run away, she loves her daddy more than anything in this world, his embrace is her favourite place to be. The little girl wraps her tiny arms around her daddy’s neck even tighter, telling him how much she loves him and how much she missed him every day that he was away.

That alone made some tears appear in Rúben’s eyes, walking with his princess still in his arms, going to greet you with a passionate kiss, missing you like death. His hand instinctively goes to your belly - nothing happened. But Rúben is not going to worry about that anymore. He has his family by his side again, and that’s all that matters to him.

After the tea party with Matilde and a small family dinner, the little girl was already fast asleep on her father’s chest - never letting go of him since he arrived, and Rúben silently thanked her for that, really in need to feel his light near him as well, begging her to illuminate him a little more. Which she does, all the time, even if she doesn’t realise it. Rúben is already feeling lighter, being home near you and his babies helping him a lot with his mood.

After putting your sleepy daughter in her room, you and Rúben finally have some time to yourselves. He immediately wraps you in his arms, cuddling you close to him, hugging you and kissing your neck, face, shoulder, anywhere he could reach.

“Amo-te tanto” (I love you so much) - Rúben softly speaks in your ear, making your heart tingle like it’s the first time he is saying those words to you.

“We love you too” - you smile as you grab his hands that were already touching your belly, massaging your baby boy now.

Rúben smiles and tries his best to not think about the kicking topic.

“Is my boy behaving? Hope you’re not giving mommy much trouble already” - he speaks softly to his son, with a smile on his face.

When those words leave his mouth, Rúben’s hand feels a light kick. His face shows a shocked expression, not really believing what’s happening.

“What was this? This wasn’t a kick, right?” - he asks you, his mouth still agape at the feeling. You laugh at his reaction.

“Yes, it’s a kick, babe. Our son is answering your question” - you kiss the shock out of his face.

“Are you, filho? Are you answering daddy?” - Rúben keeps talking to the baby, hoping that he would keep kicking, amazed at the feeling of his baby’s kick for the first time.

Dinis kicks two more times, harder now at the sound of his dad’s voice, and Rúben’s eyes are full of tears, all the emotion and happiness falling down his face already.

“I can’t believe he’s finally kicking to me” - he says, more to himself.

“He loves you so much, never doubt that” - you reassure him.

“Oh god, I love you so much, Dinis. Dad will always be by your side, to play football with you, to teach you everything about space and astronauts, to take care of you and lead you the way” - he confesses while hugging you tightly now.

Rúben knows how badly you wanted this to happen, just as much as him. And he’s not a religious man, but it’s like he could feel all your prayers on him now, feeling such a powerful love wrapping your hearts, feeling extremely grateful for you, for being such a supportive wife and for bringing to life his biggest dream, the biggest loves of his life, his babies.

When you’re together, everything feels better to him, he’s only happy when he is holding his wife and daughter strongly in his arm - and now you are preparing your family for another beautiful adventure, almost welcoming your baby boy into this world - soon to be Rúben and Matilde’s best friend.

[xxchumanixx]

Hey can you do one where reader (reader is Nyla rookie) is secretly engaged to Tim and Nyla starts to ask the reader questions about who she’s engaged to because the reader forgot to take her ring off before she got to work, and it’s plain clothes day and reader pulls Tim over on his day off because he was speeding ( he was doing something for his sister) and Nyla doesn’t know that is was Tim in the car until the next day when he comes back to work and Nyla and Angela starts to put two and two together

Elephant in the room

Tim Bradford x fiance!reader

Warnings/Tags: fluff, a little angst

Word count: tba

Authors note: Hello love, thanks for the request! It was really fun to write and I hope you'll like it!

Enjoy!

She just wouldn't stop.

Ever since she saw the glittery and shiny engagement ring on your finger - of course it had to be one, 'cause it was just so shiny - she wouldn't stop asking questions.

Asking questions was an understatement, though - for someone who barely talked about her private life herself, she was really good at squeezing every bit of information out of you.

You had forgotten to take if off before heading to work, not even noticing until it was too late.

It was plain clothes day, she wasn't even supposed to talk, yet Nyla freakin' Harper wouldn't shut up.

Jaw clenched you tried to ignore her, until she threatened to make you fail.

"Wait what?" you almost screeched, parking at a sidewalk to turn towards her in your seat. She was smirking to herself, a shit eating grin that told you 'I have your future in my hands'.

And damn it, she had.

"I'm engaged." you pressed out through clenched teeth, trying to act nonchalant about it with a shrug of your shoulders.

"Do I know him?" she pressed further, and you bit your cheek.

She in fact did know him, but you would never tell her. At least not now, not when you were still her rookie, having promised Grey and Tim not to talk about it, until your training was done.

Which it would be in two weeks.

But the look she was giving you, gave you the sense of feeling that she'd give you a hard time, until you'd finally crack and tell her.

Which you couldn't.

Damn it.

Her brows rose, urging you to answer her question.

"No...?" you answered vaguely, and her head tilted with a pointed look. She didn't believe you for a second.

To be honest, you wouldn't have either.

"Do I?" she questioned, leaning closer. She tried to analyze you, see if you were lying to her.

"I mean, maybe you've met him at a grocery store, who knows?" you tried to shrug it off, heart racing in your chest, threatening to burst out of it any moment, at the look she was giving you.

If she wouldn't have been your TO, she would have made a good friend - whom you might have told, but she wasn't.

Yet, you hoped. She was a great person, and you could only hope to stay on her good side for the rest of your days.

"Mhhmmm..." she made, the sound drawn out, as she leaned back in her seat. "Maybe."

You breathed a sigh of relief inwardly, as someone sped past you on the otherwise quiet street.

Huffing to yourself, you turned on the siren, following the car as you motioned for them to turn over, though thankful for the distraction.

Only then did you notice what car it was - or rather whose.

Cursing under your breath, you had no other choice than to get out of the car now.

Approaching the car you were grateful it was plain clothes day, which meant that Nyla was staying near the shop, not having any sight into the car.

"Hello, do you know why I pulled you over?" you greeted, silently pleading he wouldn't act strange now.

"Driving too fast?" he guessed and you huffed to yourself again, biting your lip to stifle a laugh.

Never would you have thought you'd pull your own fiancé over.

Nodding, you took a step closer, almost crossing the line of getting too close; trying to ignore Nyla's boring gaze for the moment.

"Where are you heading to?" you asked, brows furrowed. "Everything okay?" He nodded at your second question, sending you a reassuring smile.

"I'm fine, baby. Was heading to my sister's, she needs something done in her new house, but she has to work in an hour." he explained, biting his lip.

His sister had just recently moved to LA, after divorcing her now ex-husband.

"Tim, you know you should stick to the speed limit, even if you're late!" you quietly scolded him, brows drawn together. "What about being a good cop and all?"

He sighed, chuckling under his breath at your words and you couldn't help but split a smile as well, before clearing your throat, suddenly aware again, that Nyla was watching you.

"I'll let you go this time, sir, but please try and not drive too fast again." you spoke louder, knowing she'd hear.

He laughed quietly at that, blowing you a kiss.

"I love you." he told you, sending you a smile. "Thank you."

You nodded, smiling back. "Love you too. See you later."

Patting the rolled down window, you bid him goodbye, watching as he drove away.

When you returned, Nyla looked at you suspiciously. She knew the car, it seemed oddly familar, but she just couldn't place where from. Your behavior though, she was able to place.

"That your fiancé?" she shot straight to the point, as you two climbed back into the shop. Swallowing, you took a deep breath, stalling.

"Yep." you then announced, fingers nervously drumming on the steering wheel. She hummed, nodding. "Well then, good you didn't give him a ticket." she mused, brows wiggling. "Who knows, maybe he wouldn't want to marry you anymore if you did?"

Rolling your eyes, you started the shop, shaking your head with a smile.

She really was one of a kind.

_____

"Oh my freakin' sweet Jesus!" Nyla exclaimed quietly, eyes wide as she stared at the car that was parked a few feet away.

It was the same you had pulled over yesterday.

Angela, who was walking beside her, stopped as Nyla did, confusion etched into her features.

"What's up with you?" she wanted to know, stiffling a yawn, not feeling quiet ready for a demanding conversation at this unholy hour in the morning.

"When I was on shift with Y/L/N yesterday, she told me she's engaged. Pulled that car over and guess what: it was the fiancé she refuses to tell me the identity off!"

Angela's eyes widened, nearly dropping her coffee as she stared at Nyla, who's brows knitted together at her look.

"That's Bradford's car!" Angela exclaimed in a hushed whisper, suddenly wide awake. Nyla's eyes could have competed with dinner plates at the size they became at the information.

And realization.

Tim Bradford was your fiancé.

Your fiancé was Tim motherfucking Bradford.

Nyla's mouth opened and closed like a fish's, not quiet grasping the words she was searching for, as her eyes went back to the truck.

No fucking way.

"That little-!" she exclaimed, staring at Angela in shock.

She was as equally as shocked as her friend, though she soon started to grin. "Who would have imagined?" she quipped, taking a sip of her coffee.

Nyla's head shook, still trying to wrap her mind around the information.

Oh, you were definitely in for something.

And you were.

You should have known something was up, when Nyla brought you a coffee, even smiling at you like she did when she was pregnant and couldn't control her hormones, scaring everyone.

You really should have known.

Especially when she offered to drive.

"Had a nice evening yesterday?" she asked with a smile. "After pulling over your own fiancé?"

She chuckled heartily at that, and that's what should have made you jump out of the shop, take your legs in your hands and run for your dear life.

Yet you were dumb enough to step right into her trap.

"Yeah, he wasn't mad, said he was glad I didn't spare him just because he was my fiancé and pulled him over nonetheless."

She hummed to herself in agreement, nodding along to it.

"And what did he say was the reason he was breaking the speed limit?"

Your brows furrowed, but you didn't question her. "Wanted to help his sister fix something over at her new house. She just moved here."

Nyla nodded again, lips pursed.

"Bradford's nice to help his little sister that much."

You stiffened at her words, thoughts crashing to a halt. She caught you - but how?

She smirked to herself, a dangerous one that told you not to lie to her now, or else you would regret it for the rest of your life.

Biting your lip, you sank further into your seat with your cheeks ablaze, praying the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

"I mean I get it." she spoke, eyes fixed on the street. "But lying to your TO? Nuh-uh."

"I'm sorry." you apologized, gaze fixed on your entwined hands, that started to sweat profusely. "But I had to promise Tim and Grey not to tell anyone."

She huffed, chuckling under her breath.

"Well, I'm a detective - and a good one." she told you, sending you a pointed look. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out?"

That she only did with Angela's help, she didn't mention. She wanted to see you suffer, at least a little bit. That didn't mean she wasn't happy for you, though.

You were a lucky one with Tim Bradford as your soon to be husband.

"I expect an invitation for the wedding, of course."

Rolling your eyes, you huffed.

"Please, as if you wouldn't have been invited anyways." you retorted, sending her a pointed look.

She smiled at that, failing to hide it.

"Good."

_____

"Harper knows."

"Angela knows."

"Wait, what?" you both made, brows furrowed.

"Oh my, really should have expected it." you sighed, shaking your head. "Somehow, Nyla found out about it. I bet her and Angela did together."

Tim nodded at that, biting his lip. "Figured."

Sighing, you took off your jacket, before hanging it on the clothing rack. You didn't even get to greet him properly, having to get the news off your chest first.

He crossed the distance, wrapping his arms around you as his eyes met yours. "Should have expected that to happen." he said, lips pursed and you nodded.

"Yeah, they're detectives - and they're good at it." you repeated what Nyla had said earlier, causing Tim to chuckle. "Yeah, 'course she said that."

He leaned down and kissed you, tongue brushing yours, as your hands locked behind his neck.

"Not long and we can tell everyone." he promised, forehead leaning against yours. "And I'm glad when they finally know. Hate lying to them."

You nodded in agreement, pecking his lips again. "Me too."

He walked you backwards, lips brushing yours. "I love you." he murmured, blindly navigating you, and you sighed happily. It still felt like the first time, whenever he said it.

"I love you, too."

Tag List

@newobsessionweekly @laheysfilm

@augustvandyne @RookieTrek

@dhunhdchrih @nachofriess

[welcometothemaraudersspam]

intoxicating

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word count: 4.1k

warnings: grinding, drinking, cussing, plz lemme know if i forgot anything else :3

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the first thing people took notice of when they looked at you -

that mesmerizing smile.

the way you carried yourself was so profound, as if every bad thing thrown your way would just bounce right off.

your bubbly energy enraptured everybody around you, feeding off of your wide grins, and constant laughter bringing a sense of joy into their life.

earning your nickname; sweet girl.

everyone loved you from the moment they laid their eyes on you.

i mean... who wouldn't?

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"Sweetheart, you have got to get ahold of yourself."

"I do- I don't know what makes you think I don't."

A scoff left Garcia's glossed lips, as she stared at your frantic fingers messing with your hair, trying to apply everything all at once. Reaching for your signature perfume, spraying a good dosage on to ensure it stays on the whole night. The blonde had come over to get ready for a night out in the town with your fellow co-workers, including a certain brunette that you had a soft spot for.

Your hair was not cooperating with you. Not. In. The. Slightest.

Does this dress make me look- too much?

Who the hell made this damn mousse-

"If you touch your hair one more time, I will personally make it my life's mission to get rid of your existence." She grabbed a hold of your arm, tugging you out of the bathroom despite your protests. "Spencer won't care what your hair looks like when he's got you underneath him."

A gasp left your lips, smacking Penelope's giggling behind as she ran away from you towards your front door. "Or above him- whatever you're into sweet cheeks."

"Oh! I'm going to get your ass, Pen."

"Tell that to Mr. Hotchner!"

Penelope ripped the front door open, revealing a startled Hotch who had just raised his fist to knock on your house door. A smug smirk graced the blonde's lips, sticking her tongue out at you as she ran towards the SUV where Morgan was waiting. You stood there with a pout on your lips, grabbing your purse from your entrance table. Hotch eyed your dressed up figure, feeling his heart rate pick up as you made your way over to him your perfume engulfing his senses.

"Hiya Hotch." Wrapping your arm around his waist, giving the older man a tight squeeze letting your free hand lock the door behind you stuffing your keys into your purse. Penelope and you might have had one too many shots, the constant cheesing on your face giving you away. 

"Hello sweet girl." Hotch had known you long enough to see you in every situation imaginable, including your drunk side. He chuckled as you left your arm around him, not minding it for a second as you guys walked down the steps to the car. "Are we sure this isn't the aftermath of the bar?"

You let out a small giggle, knowing he was partially right. Hotch opened up the car door for you, helping you into the lifted vehicle a small thank you leaving your lips as you scooted further in as he squeezed in behind you.

The car smelled like people who had were planning on getting laid. Hotch’s cologne smelled of leather and cinnamon. Discretely trying to hide the fact that you were inching closer to him like a dog sniffing out a treat.

Whilst Morgans cologne smelled of coconut and sugar; not enough to be irritating to the nose.

Both you and Penelope's perfumes smelled nice and sweet, contrasting with the guys.

Penelope was blasting Kesha through the SUV, while Morgan attempted to turn it down without her noticing. Either she noticed or didn't care, allowing her voice to do the work for her as she embodied Kesha.

"We are just getting started, I promise. You should join us! Didn't Morgan draw the short stick for tonight? Leaves you perfectly able to get wasted with us,"

Morgan gave you a glare in the rearview mirror, not letting your mocking affect his driving as he tried his best to follow the law with his boss as his passenger. Hotch just shook his head as you unzipped your purse showing him the contents inside.

His eyebrow raised, he saw several colorful shooters clinking around in the small accessory adorning your body, a smile gracing your warming skin. You took out a bright green shooter, shoving it into his hands.

"What in the-"

"Pen. Catch." Penelope didn't even have to move, her hands expertly catching the pink shot you had picked out just for her. You opted for a blue one, knowing this flavor in specific masked the taste as best it could making it easier to down.

You raised your eyebrow back up at Hotch cracking your drink open, a soft sigh left his lips knowing you wouldn't back down. He proceeded to crack his open, whoops leaving the girls lips. Clinking your shot against his bringing the cold glass to your lips, allowing the burning sensation to trickle down your throat

Hotch was used to harder liquor, but something about the neon colored vodka was already making him feel a little warm. Shaking his head at the taste, putting the lid back on the drink as he watched you reach for another.

"Woah, sweet girl... you sure you can handle another?"

Your rolled your eyes at his concerning words, easily tossing another shooter back as you opened your mouth to show it was gone. Hotch felt a small smirk tug at his lips at the sight, adjusting himself in his seat subtly.

"I almost flunked out of college my freshman year because I was getting drunk every weekend. I learned my handful of tricks- I would put Dr. Reid to shame." Morgan whistled, making Garcia laugh as she reminisced on some of the stories you had told her. An ever-growing smirk graced your lips, re-applying a generous amount of lip gloss to your lips. 

Hotch eyed the bubbly girl, as she made herself comfortable against the taller man. He spread his jean cladded legs as she plopped her purse on his lap, using him as a table rummaging through the contents. Choosing to ignore the sensation of her nimble fingers ghosting over his dark wash jeans, adjusting his position on the leather seat. She pulled out another shooter and mingled it into his hands, a small chuckle bubbling in his chest.

"You're going to have to show me one day, baby."

"Wouldn't you love to see that, sweet boy?"

Morgan smirked up at you as he pulled up to the valet who were excited to take the keys from your favorite Agent, sending a wink to the blushing girl holding the keys. You were about to open the door, almost jumping as you saw Hotch had already beaten you to it. Looking back and forth between the door and your now empty seat beside you, the grinning raven haired man made your heart skip a beat.

"How-"

"Your intoxicated state is making your reaction time slow," His deep voice hummed into your ear, his hands splaying across your back allowing his warmth to keep you from shivering. Hotch lent his arm out, grasping onto his bicep firmly as you made your way into the bar. The shooter you had given the older man tucked away in his jeans, holding your body close to ensure you wouldn't run off. 

It didn't take long for Hotch have to glare at the wandering eyes of plenty of men who were attempting to undress you with their nasty eyes. He knew men were absolute garbage as time had gone by, but he knew that he would never let these ones especially anywhere near you tonight. 

It didn't take long for you to find your other co-workers even in all of the chaos, the place bordering a club atmosphere. The bar was currently playing one of your favorite songs, allowing the music to guide your body. You let your grip loosen as you made a beeline towards JJ who was smiling widely up at you, a bright pink coating her cheeks. Your heels clicking mesmerizingly against the stone floor, having mastered the art in running in those strappy shoes.

"JJ!! I missed youuuu," You hurriedly wrapped your arms around her neck, pressing a sticky kiss onto her cheek. She let out a muffled laugh as she held you tighter. "Where is-"

"Spence? Right behind you, honey." The giggling girl whispered into your ear, you spun on your heel making eye contact with the man you had been thinking about all night. A smile made its way onto your lips, taking a seat beside the brunette. 

As if he couldn't get anymore attractive.

The sight of his dark green cardigan bringing out the green in his hazel eyes, hidden behind his god forsaken sexy ass glasses.

What kind of test do they have to pass to work at the BAU? It seemed like every man and woman had to make your knees buckle to work there.

"Hiya Spence."

The flustered boy tucked his hair behind his ear, turning in his seat to give you his undivided attention. Your perfume infiltrating his nostrils, before having heard your voice. A smell he was all too keen on knowing, wetting his bottom lip nervously. "Oh h-hi!"

The conscious part of your brain attempted to send signals to your body to be smart, your drunk limbs ignoring it as you allowed your legs to entwine with his slack cladded leg closest to you. His breath hitching a small gasp leaving his pink lips. 

Elle feigned a dramatic hand over her chest, her dress showing off her curves in all the right places. The girl walked over to you, your smile having not left your lips since getting in the car. Smacking a wet kiss on your dark haired friends cheek who just wrapped an arm around your waist. "We were about to send out a search party. We thought Morgan got you guys lost again,"

"Oh he most definitely did, I think the aftershave has made him lose some brain cells over the years." You teased the burly man, who shot you a glare reaching over the table to flick your forehead a gasp leaving your lips. You detangled your legs from Spencers missing the warmth almost as soon as you detached, sending a harsh kick to Morgan who hissed at your heels.

"Son of a bitch. Watch your back, sweet cheeks."

"Want me to kiss it better?" A small twinkle shone in his eyes, his usual flirty smirk making its way onto his face. You turned on your charm, resting your face on your hands as you batted your eyelashes at the man your glossy lips parted open. Everyone at the table watched in amusement as Morgan practically melted at her doe eyes looking up at him, leaning closer to her face. 

"I would love nothing more-"

"I call dibs first, Chocolate Thunder." Penelope butted in, making her first appearance at the table a tray full of drinks. She handed you your signature drink, the vibrant color matching her outfit. Clapping your hands as you blew a kiss to the blonde, wrapping your lips around the straw humming happily at the cold liquid making its way down your throat. 

"No need to call dibs when I've already kissed you, baby cheeks."

"You're not special, Derek. We've all kissed, sweets." All the girls threw in their words of agreement, a chuckle leaving Spencers lips as he watched the look of disbelief on Morgan's face. "Sweet as her name, she is." 

"Don't make me kiss you on the mouth again, Pen."

"Maybe that's what I'm hinting at, sweet girl."

A burst of giggles left the girls mouths as they all grabbed ahold of the shots Garcia had bought everyone. 

Well, everyone except Morgan. 

She had grabbed something strong; wanting to ensure it did what it was intended to do. You had seen Spencer had also proceeded to throw back a shot a small wince leaving his lips. "You would think after 9,006 years, that we would know how to mask the taste of alcohol."

"I like the pain. Gives a little thrill, don't you think?" Tilting your head at the doctor whose eyes widened a little, his cheeks flushing pink. A small giggle left your lips placing your hand dangerously close to his thigh, turning your attention to the raven haired man beside you.

"What are you nursing there, Hotch?" He turned to his left, eyeing the flustered girl a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he showed her his glass. "Mind if I have a sip?" 

"Of course. Go ahead." The girl gently took the glass from his hands, taking a small sip of the drink a soft hum leaving her lips. He felt his chest tighten at the sight of her lips on the same glass his were just on. She just grinned at the man, handing him back his jack and coke. "Not bad- too Hotch for me." 

Gently rising from your chair at the table, gaining the attention of everyone at the table a grin already plastered on your face. Spencer eyed your radiating body, his brain turning to mush as he tried to focus on the words leaving your pretty lips. Chugging the rest of your cocktail, the cold feeling nice on your warming face. "Time to dance!"

Penelope wasted no time, dragging a more than ready Morgan onto the swarm of people on the dance floor. JJ and Elle had already partnered up, their swaying bodies entwined together. Leaving you in between Spencer and Hotch. Both who looked absolutely delicious-

Hold on- what?

Delicious?

I mean... 

Hotch's black polo did absolute numbers for his muscular body. His biceps just about bulging out of the shirt, snug around his lean torso. Wanting nothing more than to wrap your arms around his waist. And don't even mention his gorgeous eyes, with their specks of green becoming visible the closer you got to him.

And then Spencer.

That boy looked like straight out of a rom com. His puppy eyes staring at you intently like nothing around you existed. His chiseled jaw and those puffy lips were all you could think about at work. His button ups fitting him just right, the cardigans about to swallow him whole wishing you were in them as well.

"Sweets?"

The sound of Hotchs raspy voice speaking broke you out of your trance, blinking away your borderline wet dream about your co-worker and superior. Taking notice of Spencers empty seat, turning to Hotch with a confused look on your face. "He went to the restroom. Everything okay? You were unresponsive there for a second."

"Y-yes. Sorry, I was- I don't even know. You guys both looked so good, my brain did an override." The words were spewing out of your mouth like muscle memory, a shocked expression filtering over the usually furrowed mans face. "How about that dance?"

"Oh no, I don't-"

"Hotchner, don't start. I was promised a dance,"

"-I think that was you doing the promising." You grabbed ahold of his wrist, tugging the protesting man whose eyes had grown soft. "You're awfully strong when you're drunk. Did you know that?"

"I think it's similar to when crack heads do crack, except without the crack." You shouted into his ear, the music practically making it near impossible to hear. Hotch just let a laugh slip out, his hands having found their home on your hips barely touching you, afraid he would mess it all up.

Pitbull had begun to blast through the club, your body swinging to the beat having known the rhythm a little too well for your liking. The clubs lights had gotten dark, except for the strobe lights and stage lights lighting up the crowd every now and then. You could see Penelope shouting the words at Morgan who bared an amused stare at the blonde, dancing with her drunken form the pink spotlight lighting up her blonde hair perfectly.

A whine left your lips at the lack of contact with your dance partner, pressing your body against the towering man above you knowing this exact situation must be written somewhere on what not to do with your boss. He almost halted his movements if it weren't for your hands finding his and wrapping his arms further around your waist. Hands finding their home around his neck, chills going down his spine as he felt how close you were to him.

The music took ahold of your body. Every beat sending your hips to follow half a second later, memorizing the way Hotch followed your every move.As if your bodies were made just for one another; you moved in synch with each other, neither of you having to give cues as if you guys had been doing this for years.

Hotch felt this body growing hotter the longer you were grinding up against him, a small line of guilt bubbling inside but his body seemed to be doing all the thinking for him. His hands tightening their grip on your hips as he pulled you impossibly closer to him a soft gasp leaving your lips. Your body swaying and turning in his grasp pressing your ass against his growing member, Hotch's head leaning into your neck.

You rolled your head back leaning against Hotch's muscular body, trying to see if it was your mind playing tricks on your or if it truly was what you thought it was poking against your ass.

Every touch felt- electric.

The pawing at your body from Hotch made your body writhe in his grasp, feeling yourself getting drunk in his touch. Shaking hands reaching behind you to find his head full of hair and run your fingers through his gelled hair, enjoying the soft rumble against his chest. Turning back around to face him, wondering what was running through his head right now.

Hotch must have know how crazy he looked as he felt. Scanning every inch of her face, cupping her face in his warm calloused hand tucking her hair away from her face.

He could see every tiny freckle, and scar on your face. The sparkly gloss coating your lips enticing him the longer you mouthed the words close to his chest. Every one of his senses were focused on you.

Your perfume.

Your body.

Your gorgeous eyes.

He couldn't look away-

"If you wanted to kiss me Hotch, you could have just asked,"

Before Hotch could lean down and press his awaiting lips on yours, you detached your limbs from the man a giant grin gracing your features. Waving at the approaching figure, tugging the brunette closer to you. The older man almost rolled his eyes, keeping his hands tucked into his pocket his fingers knocking with the shooter you had gifted him earlier.

"Spence! I was about to send out a search party,"

The blushing boy tried to stammer out a response, his eyes locking with Hotch's.

His boss- correction. His friend was staring at him as if he had just came out and told him he was the unsub on a case. Wiping his clammy hands against his dark slacks, wondering what he had interrupted.

"The line to the bathroom was long. If it weren't for the fact that I had to-"

"Did you know that Aaron is a good dancer?" You shouted in Spencers direction, the name slipping off your tongue sweet like honey.

Hotch turned to face the girl replaying the sound of his name falling off of her lips over and over again, hoping she would say it again. Spencer raised a surprised eyebrow at the cheesing girl, whose hold on him hadn't faltered.

"I'm not too surprised. His stature and athleticism point him in the direction of having better coordination than the average person."

"I have no idea what you just said! Maybe Pitbull is having some affect on my hearing," 

"Maybe we should go sit down, hm?" Hotch whispered into your ear, his breath fanning over your face. Nodding along to his words, grabbing ahold of his unsuspecting hand tugging them over to the back corner table you were sitting at. A soft sigh left your lips, as you reached for Hotch's glass tossing the rest of the drink back. 

Spencer eyed your hand that was still holding onto Hotch's practically burning a hole into his much larger hand, a million thoughts coursing through his head. "Next one is on me, Aaron."

"Don't worry about it, sweet girl. Let me go buy another drink, I'll order you a water."

"What! I'm not even close to being done, please..." A pout found its way onto your face," Just one or two more."

Hotch couldn't say no to that face. "One more. Reid, want anything?"

"Can I just get a water, please?"

Hotch untangled your hand from his, his retreating figure hard to miss even with all the people surrounding him. Spencer took this chance to try to erase any progress Hotch had made, his figure seating itself right beside you. His shaking hand found its place on your thigh, a chocked sound leaving your lips eyeing the nervous boy standing before you. Your heart just about dropped into your stomach, a fluttering in your stomach as the guy you had been crushing on had made a move.

Please move it higher-

"I wish we could have had our dance, Spence... I'm sure you've got some more tricks up your sleeve I haven't seen."

"I don't think I would have been able to keep it professional if I got my hands on you,"

Fuck.

"What if I didn't want you too?"

You were playing with fire. 

Knowing full well you had just basically had sex with your boss out on the dance floor, but your brain wanted them both. 

And bad. 

Spencers face heated up, his face leaning closer to yours feeling your chest tighten as he almost brushed his lips against yours his warm minty breath burning your eyes slightly. Holding your breath as you felt him pull back a confused look on your face, taking notice of a looming figure coming your way. The feeling of your blood rushing to your already burning face made you feel a little faint, fanning your face to try to cool off.

Morgan raised an eyebrow at the pair of you a knowing look on his face, clapping Spencers shoulder with a smirk on his lips. "My man. I never knew you had it in you,"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, okay. I didn't know it was a secret, sweet girl. Does this mean the nicknames are off limits now?"

You giggled at the reddening of Spencers face, nudging him playfully. "Not at all, baby. But, Spencer is right. We have no idea what you're talking about."

"What is Spencer right about again?"

"Oh, him and our sweets are-"

Spencer had read your mind, sending a swift kick towards Morgan who let out a yelp turning around and giving the brunette a harsh punch to the arm. Hotch felt his face tense at the words Morgan was insinuating, hoping Morgan was just playing a joke on him taking the seat closest to you leaving you sandwiched in between your two wet dreams once more.

"Don't tell me you're all out of dances, sweet girl. I still haven't gotten mine."

"Oh trust, I'm not. I was just waiting on a good song to come on-"

As if someone was listening in on your conversation, Club Can't Handle Me came on a fan favorite between you and Morgan. A loud laugh leaving both of your mouths as he made his way over to you dragging you over to the huge crowd that you had just escaped. Morgans hands expertly found their place on your hips, having danced with the famous flirt many times. 

The way he grinned against your body had you almost a mess, allowing your legs to slip around his thigh dancing on him as if your life depended on it. By this point there was a layer of sweat on both of your bodies, making you look pornographic on the dance floor. His tight v-neck showed off his muscles well in the dim lighting of the bar, his arms practically engulfing you. 

"You're too hot to be here by yourself,"

"Shut up, Morgan."

The pretty boy leaned into the cusp of your ear, his lips brushing up against you. "If looks could kill, your two lover boys would have killed me tenfold." 

Peeking over his shoulder, noticing the evident glares of Hotch and Spencer who looked like they were 2 seconds away from walking over. "Want to help me make them make the first move?"

"You're an absolute minx, you know that?"

You knew Morgan was right, but the alcohol in you just wanted them to walk over and make you theirs. The music had changed to a slow sexier song, knowing if you were to do anything it would have to be now when the music would show everything off.

Closing your eyes allowing the music to guide you, putting every ounce of your being into grinding against Morgan. It didn’t take long of Morgan putting his hands closer to your ass before a cough interrupted the pair of you.

“Mind if I but in, Morgan?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n: guys this came to me in the middle of the night and i did NOT stop writing until 5 am. it just kept coming out. and FUCK, i am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure rn

a/n: GUYS WHAT THE HECK! i am literally writing part two right now, you guys have been so nice to me :,)

[hellcat8908]

For You Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Just a quick little drabble that popped into my head.

Warning: Injured reader, Language

You woke up to the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor. Not just any heart monitor, but apparently one hooked up to you. You quickly start pulling the wires off and reach for the I.V. before a gloved hand stops you. For the first time, you notice Ghost sitting in a chair beside you. "What happened?" You ask, your voice feeling rough. He holds a cup with a straw for you to take a drink. You notice the anger lingering behind his mask. Once you'e taken a few gulps, you lay back. "What happened was you have no sense of self-preservation and a disregard for direct orders!" He says angrily.

"Well, I knew that, but what exactly confirmed that?" You ask, causing him to glare at you. "You pushed me out of the line of fire and got yourself shot after I ordered you to fall back." He says. "Sounds like something I would do." You attempt to joke. "What the hell were you thinking?!" He asks. "It's cute you think I was thinking." You answer. "Now's not the time to be cute!" He says, annoyed. Just then, Soap comes in and interrupts, "Hey! You're alive!" He teases. "It's gonna take more than that to take me out." You respond cheerfully. "Thata girl!" He replies. "Has Ghost been yelling at you?" Soap asks, noticing the how angry Ghost looks.

"No more than usual." You respond. Soap smacks Ghost on the back of the head. "Quit yelling at her! She's hurt!" Soap scolds him. "It's her own fault for not listening!" Ghost says as he rolls his eyes. "And you stop encouraging her!" He adds as he glares at Soap. "Oh, that reminds me, this is for you." Soap says as he hands you a small bowl of ice cream with sprinkles. "Thank you! You're the best!" You beam as you excitedly take the ice cream and spoon from him. "You're seriously rewarding her with ice cream for getting shot?" Ghost says as he watches you excitedly start eating.

"No, I'm rewarding her for saving your ass." Soap says with a grin. "Hopefully, next time, you'll follow orders." He says as he turns his attention back towards you. "I wouldn't bet money on it." You reply with a grin. "How can such a tiny human cause so much trouble?" Ghost asks. "The same way such a large human can be so broody." You answer with a smile. "I'm not broody." Ghost says as he folds his arms over his chest. "Just keep telling yourself that." Soap says with a laugh. "Don't you have somewhere to be or something to do?" Ghost asks. "As a matter of fact, I don't. I'll not be leaving until y/n wants me to." Soap says, causing you to laugh.

"Soap, how about you give us a bit. I feel like Ghost isn't done lecturing me on my wreckless behavior." You say politely. "You sure you'll be ok with him?" Soap teases. "I think I can still take him." You assure Soap with a wink. "Alright, just let me know if he starts to be too much." Soap says before looking at Ghost. "And you, don't yell at her. She's already suffered enough." He adds before taking his leave. Once you're alone, you turn your attention to Simon, who sneaks a spoonful of your ice cream. "Are you alright, love?" You ask. "I will be if you promise never to do something like this again." He says as his eyes soften. "No promises." You say light-heartedly.

"Okay, just not for anytime soon. I hate seeing you in a hospital bed." He says as you reach over, palming his face, as you gently stroke the side of his face through the mask. He leans into your touch, finding comfort in you. "Do you think Johnny knows?" You ask. "About us? Yeah, but he won't say anything until we do." Ghost responds. You just nod as Simon finishes off your ice cream. "We'll have to tell everyone soon." You say softly. "I know, but let me enjoy it being our little secret a little bit longer." Simon says before kissing the back of your hand.

"Alright, you have until I'm released to go back to duty." You tell him with mock authority. "Yes, ma'am." He says, making you roll your eyes. "You know I hate being called that." You say. "I know, that's what makes it fun." Simon teases. Uou let out a laugh and shake your head. "I love you, Si." You say with a smile. "I love you too, y/n." He says as he gently queezes your hand. "Now get some rest. The sooner you're on the mend, the sooner we can get out of here." Simon says. "Yes, sir." You say in mock military voice before settling into the bed. He pulls the blanket back over you and presses a kiss to your forehead, "Sweet dreams, love." He says softly. "Sweet dreams, Si." You mumble as you start to drift off. Simon settles back into his chair and holds your hand while you sleep.

[ayeforscotland]

i think announcing silksong early was kind of unavoidable since it was originally meant to be dlc for hollow knight but hornet was Too Big for hk's design... so in that respect it makes sense they had to announce it early to let backers know what was happening but the total silence of communication since has sucked so much :( not to mention it being promised within a year and then delayed without word *again*...

Yeah I get that but could have definitely held off a full game announcement. The Edge magazine Silksong cover was early 2021 which is wild.

It’s not even that I mind them taking their time, just if they have a release date they should announce it well ahead of time. Or at least give *something* so folk back off a little bit.

[nikethestatue]

Chapter XVI

You Are the One

One time, Elain Marie Paige Archeron had everything she ever wanted. She had love. A love that was pure and clean and genuine. A love that did not ask for anything in return. The kind of love that was true, and kind, and forgiving, and protective. She couldn’t remember a time when she laughed as much as she did in the last three months. She recalled waking up every morning for the past three months and feeling lighter, like there was joy and a promise of good things. Now, in hindsight, she realised that it was because she was in love. But also because she was loved. No one’s ever loved her like that before. No one looked at her in the same way, like she was precious. Like she mattered. Like she was someone’s favourite thing in the world.

Only Elain Archeron did not hold on to that love.

She took it for granted.

She took the man who offered her his devotion and his loyalty and his unconditional, undeniable and passionate love for granted, never thinking that she’d ever lose him.

But she did.

She lost Azriel. 

“Remember, darling, that’s nature…simple biology,”

“Daddy, you aren’t going to be talking about how babies are made?” Elain sniffled, half amused, half horrified.

Her father smiled a sad smile and shook his head no.

“You have to remember that it’s the sperm that chases the egg. It’s the man who pursues the woman. Not the other way around. A man will chase and will not give up until he gets that sperm into the egg.”

“Ew, dad!”

“You are a big girl, my pretty rose. You know what I mean.”

Elain considered his words, and as graphic as they were, they also made sense. He was correct. 

“Love was invented to make nature more palatable,” he continued, “but biology never changed. It’s still about the sperm and the egg. Therefore, let him chase you. And if he doesn’t, then you’ll know the answer. But never chase a man, sweetheart. It’s his nature, his responsibility and his destiny to chase after a woman.”

She sighed and looked out the window.

It's been almost two weeks and Azriel hasn’t sought her out. The sperm hasn’t chased the egg. Azriel hasn’t chased her at all.

At first, it was just…silence.

For four days, it was silent. 

Her texts went unanswered. There were no call backs. She even went old school and sent Azriel an email! And that didn’t get a response either. 

She was ready to go all the way to Canary Wharf and be the weird girlfriend who busts into her boyfriend’s home and starts to demand answers. 

But he finally messaged her with a one word text: ‘training’. That’s all it said. No apology and no explanation. Not an ‘I am sorry for ignoring you’ or ‘I’ve been swamped with the team stuff’. No, she didn’t get anything other than ‘training’.

And so, Elain had changed her mind about trekking to Canary Wharf and waited. Training would eventually be over and he would be back. He'd return to her. Elain wanted to be an understanding girlfriend, who was going to support her man. She realised that he needed to get back into the groove of the game after his injury and get his body back in playing shape. Therefore, when Saturday came about and Arsenal was playing Luton Town, she dutifully turned on the telly and listened to the pre-game broadcast while Piglet raced upstairs and then came back with his red jersey, tossing it to her and urging her to dress him in it. He already knew what he needed to wear when Azriel was playing, and even though he made a mess in his cubby, turning it out and tossing all the other things on the floor, Elain thought that it was too cute how he got so excited and was behaving like a proper little fan. 

They watched the game, with Piglet sitting there, enraptured, and howling happily every time Azriel appeared on the screen. How Piglet recognised him, Elain didn’t know–she once hid under a blanket for 10 minutes, and her pug was wandering around in confusion, looking for her, never thinking to pull the blanket off. But here, he somehow was eagle-eyed and was spotting Azriel among the tiny players on the screen.

While Piglet was innocently happy to watch the game, hopping and rolling around, Elain’s mood was more subdued. She did take a photo of the pug and sent it to Azriel. When the game concluded, and Arsenal had won, she messaged him and said ‘Congratulations! Brilliant game’.

Thanks.

That’s what Eain got in response to her message from Azriel.

Thanks.

Angrily, she waited for more, but nothing else came.

Because if he’d responded, she’d confront him and give him a piece of her mind. What did she do to him?? She was a somewhat reluctant girlfriend, but she had the right to be reluctant. He moved like a freight train, but she was more cautious. Besides, she’s lived through many heartbreaks before and every single man that she’s been with has broken up with her. She never broke up with anyone–all the breakups were initiated by the men. And it looked like the pattern was continuing, unbroken. Azriel was also fed up with her and was breaking up.

That night, after the terse ‘thanks’ Elain closed her bedroom door, so Piglet wouldn’t hear her, and wept.

She wept for herself, for her lost love, for her stupidity.

She cried tears of anger, feeling rage sweep over her, cursing Azriel under her breath, calling him names. She was so angry. Angry at him for making her fall in love with him. Angry at him for making her feel. For having hope. Feelings and hope were things that she long ago placed in a place that she did not access and longed to forget. She hated Azriel Night for making her think that she could be loved, with a passion and devotion that Rhys offered her sister Feyre. She hated him for being even worse than Eris. At least Eris never offered her false hopes–he was what he was and she knew that going in. There would be no sweeping her off her feet by Eris. But Azriel…No, Azriel was gallant and strange. He courted her with ferocious intent and was not shy about showing her, and everyone around them, how much he wanted her. He loved her dog. He cooked for her. He cared for her. He cherished her. He joked, but he never pushed her into an uncomfortable place. She didn’t expect to find him and somehow, he landed on her doorstep. Literally. The old saying ‘it will happen when you least expect it’--well, it happened to her. She didn't expect him to sweep into her life and just overtake her whole existence. Because he did. And she hated him and herself, for allowing him so much power over her. She’d given him everything–her heart, first and foremost, but also access to her home, to her sanctuary and to her family. Even her father had accepted Azriel as an appropriate match for his beloved Elain. Elain was her father’s princess. She was the one he loved the most, and the one who gave him the most worry. He’d been lukewarm on Eris, despite Eris’s title and background. But Azriel–Azriel’d wormed his way into Sir Charles’s heart and Elain’s father came to like Azriel quite a bit.

But he never called. 

At some point, while operating like a zombie day in and day out, Elain couldn’t stand it anymore and swallowed her pride and messaged Gwyn Berdara.

She was mentally exhausted, thinking nonstop about Azriel and why he was acting the way he was acting. Unable to bring herself to reach out to him yet again, and receive yet another awful, one word answer, she opted for contacting Gwyn. She had no feelings about Gwyn either way–she’d only met her twice in person, and Gwyn wasn’t memorable enough for Elain to develop a strong opinion about her. But Gwyn didn’t respond to her either. Elain had sent a nonchalant sort of message of: Good morning! How are you? Just checking in to see how things are going with Azriel Night? I didn’t want to bother him as he is training and playing right now, but I am curious about your progress with him?

The message remained unread.

-

However, Elain Archeron did not need to wait for long to get answers to her questions. They came a day later, courtesy of the Daily Mail.

Another Mystery Woman for the Rackish Lothario?

Azriel Night,  Captain of Arsenal, never one wanting for female company, has been spotted at The Devonshire with a new companion. 

It seems that only a few months had passed since he was photographed on the streets of London carrying another woman in his arms following an attempted robbery. He’d been previously seen with the beautiful partner, now identified as Lady Elain Archeron, on more than one occasion. Hello Magazine even published a holiday spread of the lovely Archeron sisters and their partners in their Christmas edition. London society is still buzzing over the surprise marriage of Lady Feyre Archeron and Lord Rhysand Darling back in December, and over the budding romance between Lady Nesta Archeron, the Duchess of Velaris and Mr. Cassian Night (Azriel Night’s brother). 

By all accounts, the romance between the gorgeous aristocrat and Mr. Azriel Night was going splendidly and he’d been seen leaving her luxurious Russell Square townhouse, and even walking her pug, all through the month of December. However, it seems that their relationship is now on pause.

Mr. Night had been spotted dining at the upstairs restaurant at The Devonshire in the company of another woman. The yet to be named companion and Mr. Night enjoyed Sunday lunch at the Soho hotspot, dining on Roast Rib of Beef, all the trimmings and sticky toffee pudding. 

After so many trials and errors, will this one be the one to capture Azriel Night’s heart forever?

He was at The Devonshire on Sunday–the Sunday when it was Elain’s turn to cook Sunday roast. When everyone had come to her house for lunch. And by everyone, she meant–everyone. Rhys. Feyre. Her father. Nesta. CASSIAN. Cassian Night, who introduced her and Azriel, was at her dinner table, eating roast chicken and buttery peas. But his brother, Elain’s boyfriend, was on a date with someone else. 

A more awkward lunch couldn’t be imagined into existence, even by a talented writer.

Nesta was seething, smoke coming out of her ears. Cassian looked pained and uncomfortable. Rhys didn’t fare much better. 

But it was Piglet who broke everyone’s hearts. He sat by the front door for three hours–waiting for Azriel to arrive. He didn’t move. He didn’t eat. He waited. 

And waited.

And waited.

The whole family was here, and surely his dad would come as well. So he waited. He paced and then he lay on the floor, and he looked at the door, blinking his big brown buggy eyes.

Only Azriel never came.

-

It was a few days later, when Elain on on break between meetings and arranging dates that her phone lit up with a message. She looked at it and her face dropped. 

Gwyneth Berdara

Hi Elain! Things are going well, thank you for asking. How are you?

Elain Archeron

I am well, thanks! Forgive me for bothering you,

Gwyneth Berdara

It’s no bother! I apologise for not responding sooner. I had a presentation to create and it took all my energy and time! 😀

Elain Archeron

I can only imagine. I was just wondering how things are with Mr. Night? 

Gwyneth Berdara

We made the Daily Mail. Can you imagine? The one time we had lunch together. I can’t imagine spending all my life being hounded by journos

Elain Archeron

Oh, have you? I wasn’t aware that you were in the paper!

Gwyneth Berdara

😂 😂 I am suddenly a mini celebrity. Haha. I am only joking. But honestly? Don’t laugh, but we are mostly talking about football and working out. And hand to hand combat.

Elain Archeron

You are interested in hand to hand combat??

Gwyneth Berdara

I’ve been studying. Self-defence first, and then I got interested in other things. He is showing me some sicke moves! 

Elain Archeron

? Okay. I guess thank you for getting back to me. Let me know how it progresses.

Gwyneth Berdara

Will do. Also I didn’t realise the two of you were so close. He talks about you a lot. I know you were his matchmaker too but it’s like you are his GF or something.

Elain Archeron

Well, no worries. I am not. Thanks. Bye.

Elain was even more confused and upset about things after that bizarre exchange. Also, who used the expression ‘sicke moves’?

Professor Gwyn was into hand-to-hand combat? And Azriel was teaching her ‘sicke’ moves? Elain knew that Azriel was a fighter and grew up rough, but…what? 

There was no clarity around what was actually happening between Azriel and Gwyn after all that, and Elain only grew more and more anxious.

-

Another Sunday.

It was Nesta’s turn to cook and host, however, Sir Charles insisted that his daughters come to his house instead. And for that, Elain was grateful.

She was even more grateful to her sisters, who’d arrived without their men. She knew that they were lying when they said that both Rhys and Cassian were ‘busy’ on Sunday, but nevertheless, she was grateful to them. She didn’t think that she could handle another painfully awkward lunch with the handsome brothers who looked entirely too much like Azriel, and with her grieving pug. 

She was seated on the sofa, her legs tucked beneath her, her chin resting on her folded hands, as she looked out the window. It was raining. Rain. Rain. Rain. Endless fucking rain. 

She barely bothered today–her appearance was sallow and unkempt. She tied her hair in a messy bun, wore a beige jumper and a pair of yoga trousers–attire which was entirely inappropriate for Sunday lunch and not something she’d ever dare leave the house in. But she just couldn't bring herself to care. When the butler opened the door, he stepped back, lack of recognition evident on his face, before he quickly gathered himself and said, “Lady Elain, good afternoon. Please come in.”

Her father, and neither of her sisters comment on her appearance and the maudlin way that she moved around the house, with Piglet trailing behind her, his nose to the ground. No one was surprised when she went to her father’s study and curled up on the sofa, like she did when she was little.

“He’s lost weight,” Sir Charles noted, as he stroked Piglet’s back, while the pug lay unmoving in his lap.

“Two kilos,” Elain said, looking out the window. Expensive cars rolled down the street, taxis and stray pedestrians huddled under their umbrellas. Late January was miserable. Even the warmth of the fire in the marble fireplace didn’t make a difference. 

“That’s a lot for a pug,” her father commended. “Is he not eating?”

“He eats, but he doesn’t ask for snacks and mostly he just sits by the door,” Elain answered and wiped the tears that rolled down her cheeks. 

“Elain,” he began saying, but she rose up swiftly and rubbed her eyes vigorously.

“I am okay, daddy,”

“No you aren’t,” he said sadly. “No you aren’t”.

She shrugged, like it didn’t matter. And maybe it didn’t. Nothing much mattered.

“Let’s go eat.”

Just then, a knock on the door informed them that lunch was indeed served.

At least life was predictable. Pleasantly predictable here, with her family. There were no treacherous men and no disloyalty.

Feyre and Nesta were already at the table, their expressions worried, even though they tried really hard to act normal. 

“Hi Piggy, come here little boy,” Feyre tried to summon the pug, but Piglet didn’t even look at her and just went to his bowl, sniffing disinterestedly at the chicken and rice offering. 

Once the wine was poured and the soup was served and the butler left the dining room, Nesta, who’s been clutching at her spoon like she was going to lunge at someone with it, snarled,

“I have to say something,”

“Don’t say anything,” Feyre warned. “Nesta. Don’t.”

“That utter arsehole,” Nesta ignored her youngest sister and clutched at her napkin until her knuckles were white.

Sir Charles winced, knowing that the lunch was about to descend into chaos.

“Girls,” he began with a sigh, but suddenly was interrupted by Elain.

Her voice was monotone and she spoke without inflection, staring straight ahead.

“If I die before Piglet,” she said calmly, while the rest of her family tensed and stared at her with apprehension, “show him my body.”

“Elain,” Feyre gasped. But Elain ignored her and continued,

“Bring him over to my deathbed. Allow him to smell me. He will understand death. He will understand that I was gone and that I would not be coming back. Allow him to mourn me. But do not attempt to spare him the sight of me and my death. He should know that he was not abandoned. He must know that I died, but that I did not leave him. He must understand that unlike others, I did not abandon him. Not like his first family and not like Azriel. He should not be waiting by the door for me to come back. Take him to the funeral and allow him to watch me be lowered into the ground so he understands the finality of it all. He must know that Elain loved him and did not leave him on his own. She was not like Azriel. She never lied to him.” 

-

What Elain had missed the most was the casual intimacy.

As another week passed and January was coming to a close, Elain’s life returned to its natural, if boring routine. 

She worked, taking on more clients–thank god for January and ‘resolutions’ and people wanting to couple up–and that took a lot of her time. She was grateful for the distraction, but the nights and the weekends were tough.

Most evenings, she cried herself to sleep, while remembering all the good things that she’d lived through with Azriel. He wasn’t dead, yet the fissure of emptiness inside her chest that was created by his absence really felt like he had died. There was something unsaid and unfinished about them, which bothered her like a toothache. It was a wound which she kept irritating every time she remembered something about him.

How he was so effortlessly sexual with her, and how his relaxed sensuality allowed her to feel free with her own sexuality for the first time in her life. To Azriel, she was beautiful. Always beautiful. Never awkward or chubby or clumsy or strange.

The way he would habitually slap her bum, every time he passed by her. Or pinch it. Or caress it. Or cup it in his large hand. At first it scandalised her. And then, she grew to love it. She grew to expect it. 

The way he strutted around after a shower in only a towel wrapped around his hips, showing off his incredible body…goodness gracious! That was something to behold! The way she learned all the details of his form, no matter how insignificant–his tattoos, the shape of his shoulders, the thickness of his biceps, how his neck was a touch too long for his body, but how that made him appear more graceful. She knew exactly how many abdominal muscles he packed–more than six, and definitely eight, and she knew the shape of his long strong fingers. His hair curled slightly in the back of her neck. His hazel eyes had more green in them than brown, and were peppered with black specks. He had perfect toes. The V of his hips could only be called vicious, because it was so sharp and pointed right at his…The one thing Elain never got to see. She never saw his member. Felt it, knew that it was worryingly large and thick, but she never saw it.

She supposed that she always thought that they’d have more time. 

She recalled how one time, they were in a restaurant. It was moderately busy and they were seated by the window. It so happened that there was no one at the table in front of them, or by their side. So what did he do? He parted her shirt on her chest, and when she thought that he’d just cop a feel–something he did often and without hesitation–he bared her breast completely and tugged on her nipple, while kissing her lips. She sat there, completely delirious with love and arousal, while he pinched and rolled her nipple in his fingers, while squeezing her bare tit in his palm. Just as the waiter approached, he tucked her back in and acted like nothing happened. 

She missed him.

Sometimes, she screamed into her pillow, a long, tortured scream because she…well, she missed him. There was nothing that could replace him in her life. 

She loved him. Loved him when they were together, and loved him now–perhaps even more than before. 

-

He rang her. 

Once.

It was a day like any other. A blustery wintry afternoon, only 5 pm and already pitch black outside. Though slowly, but surely the days were getting a bit longer. Just a little. It was early February and Elain just changed into her comfy joggers and a sweatshirt having just come back from walking Piglet. He hated being outside, especially when it was cold and drizzling, and thankfully, it was a quick walk and he did his business in record time.

For some reason, it didn’t register with Elain that it was Azriel’s name on the Caller ID. 

She’d become so used to his calls and messages that it seemed normal that he’d be ringing her. 

“Hello,” she said.

He seemed surprised when he said, “Hi Elain”.

Everything stopped. 

The moment she heard that voice, that achingly familiar, smooth, deep voice she felt her hands shake, and her heart beat wildly in her chest.

She threw her phone on the counter as if it burned her and then, with her finger trembling, pressed the ‘speaker’ button.

“Why are you calling me?” she demanded, her voice barely a whisper.

He didn’t answer right away.

“Why?” she asked again, and to her horror her voice was already hoarse and weak, and she sounded strangled. Because there were tears in her eyes and she was hyperventilating.

“How are you?” he asked softly instead.

How was she?

How dare he?

How was she?

She howled like an animal in her sorrow over losing him.

She cried.

She screamed.

She wondered what she'd done and why he just left her without an explanation? 

She didn’t eat.

She didn’t sleep or she slept too much.

“Fine. Brilliant. All good,” she laughed a dry, angry laugh. “I am sure you are doing well too, right? How’s Gwyn?”

He sighed, like the sound of her voice pained him.

“I didn’t like the way things ended between us,” he told her somberly, ignoring her question.

“Well, it was your choice, wasn’t it?” she reminded him. 

“I suppose?”

It sounded like he wasn't sure.

“What do you want, Azriel?” she demanded.

“How’s Pink?” he asked instead.

“What do you want to hear exactly?”

Did he want to hear about Piglet crying by the door?

Did he want to hear about Piglet avoiding any football on TV and barking violently for her to change the channel if he saw anyone running on a green field?

Did he want to hear about Piglet sitting and waiting for him for hours, day after day, hoping that his dad would show up?

“You abandoned him,” she accused him savagely. “I told you not to make him fall in love with you. I told you not to allow him to get attached to you. I explicitly told you that this would happen if he thought of you as his own.”

“I am sorry,” he whispered brokenly.

“You did it all. You hurt us, Azriel. What do you expect to happen now?” she questioned him, feeling her voice becoming hysterical. “Two brothers and two sisters together at Christmas. A third sister alone. A third brother who used to date the third sister is now with some random woman. Is this your vision? For all of us to play happy families? Like nothing’s happened. Like we didn’t exist. Like what we had didn’t matter??”

“He did matter,” he argued. “It does.”

She ignored him.

“Cassian and Nesta are dating now. Feyre and Rhys are married. Instead of leaving me alone–like I requested, over and over again–you made me fall for you. Fall in love with you. And then you tossed me aside.”

“You love me?” he breathed a shocked gasp.

“What?” 

“You said you fell in love with me,”

“You are unbelievable,” she cried out. He was always deranged, but now he was even more incomprehensible. What was wrong with him?

“My dog is screaming any time he sees Arsenal signage. My heart is shuttered. Is that what you wanted?” Elain broke down in tears. “Is that what you wanted?

“I never wanted that,” he argued quietly. “I never,”

“What did you think would happen?” she insisted, sobbing. “That I can just walk away?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice devastated. “It all spiralled out of control…I didn’t want any of this.”

She wasn’t listening to him. 

She cried.

Cried for her lost love. Cried for the children she’d never have with him. Cried for the future they’d never have. Cried for not knowing what his perfect day consisted of. Cried for the Christmases they’d never celebrate together again. Cried for his touch and for his kisses and for him next to her in bed. Cried for the games she’d never cheer at. Cried for knowing that she’d never see him snuggling together with Piglet. 

She cried and Azriel listened.

She didn’t know how long it lasted–felt like an hour–and he didn’t say anything. He didn’t comfort her, but he didn’t ask her to stop either. 

At some point, Piglet came over. He looked up at her, watching her weep, and whimpered sadly, before curling himself at her feet.

“I am sorry, Elain,” Azriel whispered at last.

She quieted down, before telling him,

“I wanted to be your wife, you know. I wanted to build a family with you. I wanted to have your children.”

“I understand. And I am sorry.”

“I wish you happiness, Azriel. Even if you robbed me of mine.”

[lenawritesfandom]

Silver Springs {Adam x f reader}

fandom: hazbin hotel shipping: adam x female reader warnings: swearing, suggestive scenes, cheating, minors dni summary: you're part of the band and adam breaks your heart word count: 596 a/n: this song and scenario has been stuck in my head forever now. i know this is short but i hope you enjoy nonetheless.

{You could be my silver spring Blue-green colors flashin' I would be your only dream Your shinin' autumn ocean crashin' Don't say that she's pretty And did you say that she loved you? Baby, I don't want to know} You were a back up singer in Adam's band. You've been told that you were only there because Adam wanted to fuck you and that was it. Which was why for the longest time you tried to ignore his advances but he was quite persuasive. The man was funny, he knew how to make you laugh, cry, and bring you out of your shell. At first you'd only spend time with him during band practice or the moments the band would just party and hang out. He eventually got you to agree to go out on a real date with him. Everything seemed to be going good and you finally started to become vulnerable with him.

{So I'll begin not to love you Turn around, see me runnin' I'll say I loved you years ago Tell myself you never loved me, no Don't say that she's pretty And did you say that she loved you? Baby, I don't want to know Oh no And can you tell me was it worth it? Baby, I don't want to know} You and Adam moved in with each other after 6 months of dating. You figured it could be fun, and a great way to grow your relationship stronger, right? Everything was perfect. His kisses against your lips or the crook of your neck. The way his hand slid down your body and the way he had a trick with his fingers and tongue that brought you to the sense of Euphoria as you cried out his name. {Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me I know I could have loved you But you would not let me Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me I know I could've loved you, but you would not let me I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you Give me just a chance You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you}

One day you go out with one of your friends. A fellow winner just as you. You told him you'd be out all day and you were going to. You and your friend spent all morning walking around shops. You saw a cool leather jacket you thought Adam would have enjoyed wearing during a concert but you realized you forgot your wallet at home. "I will be back, I'm just going to run home and grab my wallet." Your friend offered to pay for it and you just pay her back but you told her you'd rather use your own money. So, you left and would later wonder if you'd rather have just paid her back. Stay in ignorance bliss with Adam. When you returned home you heard two voices moaning from down the hall. Your heart dropped. No, he wouldn't... You opened the door and saw your rose colored glasses shatter into a million pieces. You were just another one of Adam's playthings. He promised you that you weren't but here lies the truth. If he loved you, he wouldn't have cheated. {Was I such a fool? I'll follow you down til' the sound of my voice will haunt you Give me just a chance You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me I know I could've loved you, but you would not let me I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice} So you left him and the band. Your heart couldn't take being around him. All you pictured was the way he touched that woman the same way he used to touch you. Adam would send roses and try to corner you so you could listen to his pathetic excuses. Every single time it hurt turning him away. He stopped sending you roses, and reaching out. That made the pain of confrontation easier but caused another. The relationship was over. Whenever you both saw each other whether that be through mutual friends or in public you saw the discomfort on his face that you could tell that your presence haunted him because he really did love you. Good.... Because you loved him too...

[ataliagold]

But My Heart Is Just A Little Boy

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: Teen (swearing)

W/C: 2012

Tags: Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, hurt/comfort, Steve Harrington has dyscalculia, Steve Harrington has self esteem issues, Steve Harrington needs a hug, fluff, light angst, DnD, Mike and Dustin are a little mean here

Notes: Just slowly posting some of my AO3 stuff here as well :) Title from Rattlesnake by Jack Van Cleaf.

___

Steve joining in on Eddie’s campaign was supposed to be a nice surprise for his boyfriend.

And it was; Eddie’s face had lit up with joy when Steve had walked in and sat down with the kids around the table. Steve had taken the dice Dustin had loaned him and lined them up in front of him, from the D4 (the funny triangle one) up to the D20 (the one with heaps of sides, Steve reminded himself.)

If he kept them in that order it would help him pick the right dice quickly, he’d decided.

Because he wanted this to go to perfectly.

Eddie had been asking him to join in on a game for months, but Steve had so far refused, only coming along sometimes to watch quietly. There were parts of it that piqued his interest – namely the combat and the creatures Eddie planted into the game, because some of them were so damn cool even if Steve wouldn’t readily admit it out loud. A small part of him, a much younger part that had loved fairy tales and stories about knights and dragons and sword fights before his father had confiscated those books, deeming them too childish, watched with a quiet giddiness as the kids battled all manner of beasts.

But much of the game was so complicated - there were so many numbers, and Steve had no idea how Eddie and the kids managed to keep track of everything, how they added dice values together so damn quickly and kept track of a seemingly endless list of stats and bonuses and modifiers, whatever the hell they were.

Eddie knew about his difficulty with numbers. He’d seen the way Steve had to count with his fingers, how it took him far too fucking long to do a simple equation, how he stood in Melvald’s staring at the price of something just trying to make the numbers make sense so they wouldn’t blow their grocery budget.

And Eddie was patient, always. But D&D was Eddie’s realm, his place to shine, and Steve was so worried about holding him back and ruining the game every time he had to pause to add two fucking dice together.

Finally, he’d caved. Secretly, with Dustin’s help, he’d put a character sheet together. He’d made a paladin because Dustin had told him it suited him. Steve made him strong and lawful good, just like the knights he used to read about as a little boy. Dustin had rolled his eyes a little at that but Steve had been quite proud of what he’d put together.

Plus, Dustin had promised to help him with the math.

But here Steve was, well over an hour into the campaign, and he was struggling.

Cheeks burning, he turned to Dustin yet again.

“Wait, which one am I rolling?” he whispered.

Dustin rolled his eyes. The kid had been patient at first, but it was beginning to wear thin.

Steve was beginning to wear thin.

“The D10, Steve,” Dustin hissed.

“Right,” Steve nodded, grabbing for one of the dice.

“That’s the D8, Steve,” Mike said wearily.

Steve’s cheeks flushed even hotter, and he grabbed the other dice, rolling it quickly.

“Ahhh...seven,” Steve announced.

“You slash at the goblin, your blade cutting deep into its chest, the creature gurgling and reeling backwards…” Eddie leant over the table, giving a dramatic recount of events.

Steve smiled, unable to help it. His boyfriend was having such a good time, and even if Steve wasn’t enjoying himself so much, well, that was ok. He could do this, for Eddie.

“…but it scrabbles back to its feet, weak but alive,” Eddie finishes.

Mike groaned and slapped the table.

“It has to be almost dead,” Lucas announced.

“Yeah, but there’s still four others,” Mike pointed out.

“This one must be on two hit points or less,” Will surmised.

How did he know that? Steve frowned, let the kids talk amongst themselves. His gaze wandered over to Eddie, watching him lean back in his chair, eyes shining. He shot a wink at Steve when he caught him looking, then frowned a little, obviously noticing Steve wasn’t looking all that comfortable.

You ok? He mouthed at him.

Steve nodded quickly.

But he felt small.

Grow the fuck up, you’re fine.

“…Steve!” Mike groaned.

Steve’s attention snapped back to the kids. “What?”

“Stop staring at Eddie and tell us how many hit points you’ve got left.”

“Um…” Steve glanced down at the piece of paper in front of him. He’d scribbled some numbers down like Dustin had told him to every time his character had taken damage, but there were a lot of numbers there and he wasn’t sure they all actually related to his hit points…

“Give it here,” Dustin snatched the paper from him impatiently, peering down at it.

Steve waited while Dustin assessed his work, the feeling vaguely reminiscent of being back in school, his teachers reading over his work with a disappointed shake of their heads.

“This can’t be right, Steve,” Dustin sighed. “It says you’re on twelve hit points…is that a twelve? Your writing’s messy.”

Steve nodded. “Yours isn’t much better, pea-brain,” he mumbled, just to shoot something back at the kid.

Dustin narrowed his eyes at him. “You must have less than that because of the damage you took in the last round. You’re probably down to…eight at the most, by now.”

“Just make it eight, then,” Steve grumbled.

“Eight it is, big boy,” Eddie agreed.

“It doesn’t work like that, though,” Mike huffed. “You actually have to keep track of this stuff Steve, there’s no point playing if you just make the numbers up.”

“It doesn’t matter, really,” Will tried to intervene quietly. “It can just be eight.”

Dustin picked up his pencil, drawing some columns on Steve’s paper. “Ok, so just use this one column to keep track of damage, don’t write all over the page. There’s your total hit points at the top, and every time you take damage, write it down under there, ok? And then just take it off the total. Simple.”

Like it was that fucking easy. Maybe for them, it was. They didn’t get every number mixed up in their brain, they didn’t stare at a single digit trying to put some numeric value behind it and coming up with zilch.

Dustin was trying to help, Steve knew. But his tone of voice was so fucking condescending that it had Steve squirming in his seat, wishing he was anywhere else.

He felt Eddie’s eyes on him.

“Come sit by me, Stevie, I’ll help you keep track.” Eddie said gently.

“You’ll just go easy on him, and that’s not fair!” Mike whined.

“Can it, Wheeler,” Eddie snapped at him.

“Just because he can’t do basic math.”

“Right, you get to roll with disadvantage now, just for that,” Eddie told him smugly.

Mike was retorting with something, but Steve didn’t hear it.

His pulse was thumping in his ears, his cheeks on fire. The years were stripped from him, the sensitive child he’d tucked away inside a long time ago forced to the surface.

“Look, just carry on without me,” Steve muttered, and stood up quick enough that his chair scraped on the floor.

“Steve -” Dustin started, but Steve was finished, striding towards the stairs and blinking back tears.

He wasn’t going to cry in front of the kids, not over a fucking game, not over something his boyfriend loved so much.

But they were coming faster than he could blink them back as he headed out of Mike’s stuffy basement and out to the driveway, the cold night air caressing his flushed face.

This was supposed to have been a treat for Eddie. It was supposed to be fun, and Steve had ruined the night by being fucking stupid.

A tear tracked down his cheek , Steve losing the battle against them. He’d just drive home, he decided. Steve had come straight from work that day, so Eddie had come separately in his van, he wouldn’t be inconvenienced.

And then they could finish their game in peace, without having to treat Steve like a five-year-old.

He was getting in the driver’s seat when Eddie ran to him, both hands reaching for him.

“Stevie…” Eddie murmured softly.

“I’m sorry,” Steve mumbled, dragging his sleeve across his face, smudging the tears there.

“Why? The kids were being assholes, I’ve already yelled at them.”

Steve shook his head. “I was just slowing everyone down, they were getting frustrated, I get it.”

“No, sweetheart, they were being rude,” Eddie corrected him. “Especially Wheeler.” Eddie brushed his thumbs across Steve’s cheeks, crouching down beside the open driver’s door. “I’ve told them to pull their heads in. Do you…do you want to come back inside?”

“Eds…” Steve leant into his hands a little. “I’m no good at it. I really wanted to try, for you, and I’m so sorry I ruined it, but there’s too many numbers and I can’t keep track of everything and it takes me so fucking long and it’s embarrassing because I can’t even keep up with a bunch of kids, and I just feel like I’m back at school again.”

Eddie cupped his cheeks again, tilting Steve’s head to look at him. “Hey. You haven’t ruined anything, they did. I’m so happy you came along tonight, because I know you did it for me. But look, D&D doesn’t have to be your thing -”

“But -”

“It doesn’t,” Eddie cut in. “Just like…your balls in laundry basket games aren’t mine. But I like hanging around while you and Wayne watch them, and I love how excited you get about it, and how you sit there with that fucking pretty smile…”

Steve huffed out a small laugh, and Eddie grabbed his wrist to press a kiss to the inside of it.

“But I don’t know what’s going on most of the time,” Eddie continued. “It makes you happy, and that’s enough for me. So, I don’t want you to feel like you have to play D&D just for me if it’s not something you enjoy. It’s more than enough that you listen to my ideas, that you help me write -”

“I don’t really,” Steve said quietly.

“You do! Or have you forgotten who came up with that fucking amazing twist with the elven prince?”

“I got it from a movie,” Steve argued.

“So? I didn’t think of it, and it had the little shrimps completely stumped.”

Steve managed a small smile. “I do like some of the stories,” he admitted quietly. “But I think…I just wanna go home, ok? You can carry on.”

Eddie shook his head. “I’m gonna get them to pack up in there. I’ll drop them home, then follow you back, ok?”

“Steve?” came Dustin’s voice from behind Eddie, small and hesitant.

Steve quickly straightened up in his seat, wiping a hand across his face.

“Yeah, buddy?” he replied, his voice a little hoarse.

“I’m…I’m sorry. That we weren’t more patient. It’s ok if you struggle with numbers, and we should’ve helped more.”

“It’s ok, Dusty,” Steve told him.

Eddie frowned, reached down to squeeze Steve’s hand, then turned to Dustin. “It isn’t ok,” he argued. “But it was nice of you to apologize.”

Dustin nodded. “If you want to try again sometime, I promise I’ll help more. I…I really liked having you play.”

“Thanks,” Steve managed.

“Tell Wheeler to start crafting his apology too,” Eddie said firmly, still cradling Steve’s hand in his own. “Otherwise he’s rolling with disadvantage for the whole next session.”

Dustin’s eyes widened a little before he nodded.

After packing up, the kids waited sheepishly by Eddie’s van. Eddie stayed crouched next to Steve a moment longer.

“Go home, get comfy on the couch, and pick out any movie you want to watch, ok?” Eddie murmured to him. “When I get home I’m gonna order us some pizza, and I’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you, understand?”

Steve laughed softly. “Sounds perfect.”

“Good. I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

___

[pinkandpurple360]

I apologize in advance if this gets gets long, just the convo around the next ep of HB has got me annoyed and it hasn't even come out yet

(So I'm mostly talking around the talking points screencapped here: https://www.tumblr.com/chaifootsteps/749126531306160128/apparently-im-lying-about-being-molested-when-i?source=share and your reblog from earlier where Viv liked this tweet: https://twitter.com/lovelyzelda2/status/1784606963583668469?s=46)

I had a bad feeling the discourse would immediately switch positions to 'see? Blitzo enjoys having sex with Stolas! how can you call it extortion when he's clearly fine with it?' (goalposts moving yet again, but anyway...)

OK, so - just a few teeny, tiiiiny problems with this statement here

Compartmentalization. It's entirely possible (and rational) for someone to talk themselves into believing the scenario they've been forced into is 'not that bad', just for their own mental stability

Taking power back. When someone has no power in a situation they'll take what little scraps they can get even if it looks like it makes no rational sense to an outsider. Blitzo is very heavily implied to be the 'top' in the relationship, which allows him to feel like he has some modicum of power, even if all he's doing is being the one to put in all the work to meet Stolas' needs. Paradoxically this can go hand in hand with a learned helplessness - if someone mentally accepts they are trapped in a scenario they might focus on trying to 'make the best of it' rather than escape the situation, which people on the outside struggle to understand

Hypersexuality. Related to the above, Blitzo uses sex as a tool to get what he wants. He's been conditioned by society at a young age to understand imps have little value and that survival means a lack of autonomy over one's own body and time - both things he's had to give up to Stolas to survive. It says a lot when we use the one of the survival mechanisms of an underclass as a means to judge them rather than the system that created it. (And interesting again that calling out the ways the rich literally screw over the poor is one of the main things used to demonize Striker as The Bad Guy). Also saying Blitzo enjoyed the one night stand then is flimsy evidence he's fine with the full moon deal now - he might be more sexually compatible with Stolas than Chaz (not a high bar to clear) but it was clearly pity sex and he dipped and attempted to ghost Stolas right after. For him the sex would've been a one time thing if Stolas hadn't pushed it further. This type of argument is veering into shaming Blitzo for enjoying casual sex tbh, because it's arguing that that should mean he'd be happy to have sex with Stolas again every time after. Nope. Consent works on a situation to situation basis. Being up for it Monday is not a promise you'll be up for it Friday - Blitzo having a one night stand with Stolas is not some kind of invisible 'IOU more sex'

Retconning. Yet again, but it shouldn't go unmentioned. Most of Blitzo's attitude to Stolas' flirting has been annoyance or rejection in season 1, indifference right after their session in Harvest Moon (and more annoyance/rejection to Stolas demeaning him in public at the festival), one tiny suggestion of enjoying their activities in Truth Seekers (and even that can be argued to be just Blitzo enjoying exerting power of Stolas and following through with what he sees as his end of the bargain - Stolas certainly doesn't correct him that he expects Blitzo to reward Stolas for rescuing his life with sex, since sex is all Stolas ever wants out of him), then Ozzie's caps it all off with Blitzo telling Stolas he has some nerve to expect to play at boyfriends when all he's wanted all season long is sex. That's an entire season of Blitzo's attitude towards sex with Stolas being pretty darn consistent

An abuser cannot be X. One of the most pernicious suggestions - moving on to the tweet of Stolas pathetically shutting himself in the fridge, the implication on his side is that someone who is a "manipulative mastermind" must look a certain way. They certainly aren't the kind of person who cries, sobs and shuts himself in a fridge! Never mind that 'I'm so pathetic & harmless, how could you do this to me?' can most definitely be a manipulation tactic.

This is incredibly inline with how Spindle seems to write and see abuse - abusers are only ever these obviously evil caricatures like Stella or Crimson. (And if they have any redeeming features in their eyes, like being superficially charming like Val, they'll be babied endlessly on Xitter). Real abusers are not charismatic or pathetic wet cats, apparently.

It's a reductive and frankly pretty irresponsible line of argument, because an abuser can be anyone and look like any kind of person. How often do abusers in real life get away with it because people don't think beyond 'they seemed so nice? they seemed so charming? they were so sad, so victimized by the other party they kept crying about?'

(this kind of writing is really just a variation of the Wounded Gazelle Gambit outlined here: https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/WoundedGazelleGambit -> i.e. Blitzo gets annoyed/mad at Stolas for a completely understandable reason like the Full Moon deal, being talked down to & demeaned, having his boundaries pushed constanly in Loo Loo Land -> Stolas circa season 2 whines and cries -> fandom falls for the writer's gambit & decides Stolas is the victim because Blitzo is the one who looks mean and abrasive despite Stolas giving him all the reason the world to be that way toward him)

"They're in Hell!" Sorry to bring back and old classic, but I just find it interesting that when someone criticizes Stolas for the Full Moon deal the defence of 'they're in Hell, he's meant to be deeply flawed, the writers are going somewhere with it!' gets brought up, even though the writers are desperate for viewers to think Stolas is not flawed because nothing is ever his fault anymore.

And yet the 'they're in Hell!' excuse is never brought up to explain why Blitzo 'doesn't seem sad enough' that he's being exploited. Maybe because in Hell imps as a class are exploited all the time and he doesn't expect much better? Maybe because Blitzo is already trying to prove his doing better than most of his kind by starting a business? Maybe because the only way to keep that business going is appeasing Stolas?

(it's a common phenomenon that many women do not think they've ever been sexually assaulted, yet when given the defintion they say 'that has happened to me'. they just don't recognize it because of what they think SA is and a lack of education to correct that perception. someone being conditioned not to know what is happening to them is wrong doesn't make what happened to them any less wrong. what it means is no one ever gave them the words to describe it before or call it by its name)

Putting it simply, the 'they're in Hell!' line is only ever used to excuse the behavior of the abuser, yet never as a touchstone to why the victim might behave the way he does

Real life cases / economic factors. This is heavy so I'm going to keep it short but it's important to include since I think we should be fighting back against bad attitudes around consent.

So there have been real life cases of employees who were extorted for sex by their bosses. Thing is, in instances when this went on a long time it sometimes became more difficult to press charges rather than less, even though the victim had been the subject of more sexual assault and rape.

And this was precisely because people rationalized it away. They believed juries would be hostile and would naturally assume 'if you had sex that many times it can't have really been rape, even if you would have lost your job. You didn't cry and weep and scream every single time? Then it can't have been rape'

What they were failing to understand is that economic factors and differences in availability of jobs in different fields mean that some people genuinely can't 'just quit' right there and then. What they were failing to understand is that the victim had become desensitized to the pain of being violated, that they weren't crying and weeping and screaming every time their boss forced them into sex they didn't want. It's why the 'you smiled in a photo one time so you were happy' argument is such BS. People can smile and seem totally put together five minutes before a mental health meltdown when everything that's actually going on gets to be too much.

But instead of blaming a society where someone could be forced into that position, they blamed the individual. The individual was victimized not once but many times - first by their abuser, then by a society that makes it impossible to escape them, and finally by the ones who decided actual evidence was secondary to the fact that a victim suffering a death from a thousand cuts isn't bleeding out dramatically or miserably enough for their tastes.

(speaking of economic factors, Stolas has also used promising money to bodyguard him as a means of getting Blitzo's company. Blitzo spends that episode trying to do his job - 'save it, bitch, I'm working' etc - but Stolas doesn't care about respecting their exchange of money for Blitzo's labour, because what he really wanted was to inappropriately flirt with him in front of his teen daughter. he uses his wealth as further entitlement to Blitzo's time and attention)

Lastly: it's still wrong whether Blitzo 'enjoys it' or not. I feel it's important to stress that ultimately dissecting Blitzo is kind of missing the point here. Because even if Blitzo did genuinely enjoy sleeping with Stolas - if we pretend season 1 didn't happen - it doesn't make what Stolas did any less wrong. There's a reason why sometimes a case will be 'the state VS accused rapist/person who committed domestic violence' i.e. the state prosecuting on a victim's behalf. And that's precisely because the victim is too close to it or is too afraid of the abuser to be expected to press charges. Blitzo can't exactly freely answer the sentence 'did Stolas wrong me? would I have slept with him if I'd had a choice?' if the answer stands to lose him his company, can he?

Put it another way:

Character A uses the fact Character B's life is in danger to get them to agree to a deal where they have sex once a month so Character B can keep their job. Character B is clearly repulsed but later seems to enjoy their monthly meetings. Did Character A do anything wrong?

Describing that scenario outside of the context of Stolas being a sad weepy owl, would anyone hesitate to condemn Character A here? B's 'enjoyment' doesn't change that the initial act was wrong - despite hating fanfics so much, the "it wasn't really rape because the victim secretly enjoyed it" thing is a line pulled straight out of fanfic where the original scenario where the couple 'hooked up' is dubcon at best, rape at worst. it's the last refuge of writers who want to include dubcon elements but don't want to deal with how bad it makes the perp look in the eyes of the reader

It seems obvious to me that the writers wanted Stol!tz to be a messy friends with benefits to lovers, catching feelings type of thing. But they didn't write it that way. And no amount of crowbarring it into that 'it's just miscommunication!' trope will fix the fact that they wrote and animated a sequence in Murder Family where Blitzo clearly doesn't want to say yes to Stolas and would have said no if he'd had an option at that moment

(though at this rate HB will attempt to do the Bad Fanfic trope of 'I secretly wanted it all along!' because retconning everything that happened in s1 is the only way they can think of to 'fix' Stolas without actually, you know - fixing Stolas)

Tl:dr; I'm frustrated with the lack of care in HB's writing since season 2 started, especially with how young some of the fanbase obviously are. But I'm also disappointed. They had a real opportunity to break new ground in depictions of abuse - show how someone could be simultaneously abuser and victim, show how an abuser could rationalize and rewrite reality in his favor, show how all this conflates with class and wealth in an intractable way, show how victims can rationalize their own abuse, etc etc - and they chose to do none of it.

Forcing a ship was just more important than any kind of compassion for their audience (or their literal main character, soon to be demoted to Stolas' sidekick and Emotional Support Imp), so instead all abuse is in the show is either an excuse for cheap drama or a means to attempt to rehabilitate its most frustrating character by pointing at someone else as being 'worse than him' while he's actively treating the one he supposedly 'loves' like garbage

🗣️ i love long essay length anons like this they’re like crack to me.

That last part is getting to me like how is this pairing gonna look when it happens? Like a prince and his obedient minion who serves and protects him from mean women and children, and never gets too feisty or asking too many questions. That’s the end image in my head.

Edit: anon, you care more than the writers do I can promise you that