#again. I’m a little socially drained & I love and appreciate my friends

[asmallcafethatslove]

Walked at least 20k these past 3 days and my legs are dead 😭

[yaachtynoboat711]

Can We Talk?

A/N: Hey y’all! If I didn’t know any better, I’d suspect y’all really like Karis and Kevin, probably because we’re deprived of Kevin being happy on the show. School has been beating my ASS and had taken all bits of skill (writing included) from me. Hopefully, I can create more this summer! Anyways, I hope you all enjoy Karis and Kevin’s first date!!! Once again, shout out to @awerkofart for enabling this series! Love you 🥹.

Warning(s): Language, Drinking

Word Count: 2814

Like many other Milennials, one of the staples of Karis Brown’s social life was weekend brunch. Sunday Brunch, specifically, was for recapping the times of fun from the night before. However, this Sunday Brunch was no usual outing. It was a date with Coffee Bae, Kevin. He’d called her 20 minutes before to set it up and it was up to her to solidify an unforgettable second impression.

*buzz* *buzz* Incoming Group FaceTime Call from Sisterhood of the Traveling Scrubs

Loren and Jada were waiting on Karis to answer. “Heyy—oop! Hold on…,” Jada watched Karis as she propped her phone on a shelf, “…girl, what you got goin’?!” Loren brought her attention to the screen. Essence, Rose, and Rochelle all staggered into the group call, all shocked to see their friend searching for an outfit.

“Who you gettin’ cute for, bitch?,” Rose demanded. Everyone seconded her question.

Karis laughed to herself, “I never got a chance to bring it up, but I met a guy at Jahva on Friday. He asked me out for brunch, so I’m taking him up on his offer.”

“WHAAAAAT?!?!? Karis Zhanai Brown…going on a DATE?! He better be the finest man in the city,” Essence added, the girls agreed, “Does he have a name?”

“Kevin,” Karis replied fighting a cheesy grin. The girls had been Karis’s girls since med school orientation, but they still knew how to grind her gears. It didn’t make it any better that they were neighbors with key access to each other’s houses. They were going to be over there when Karis and Kevin returned from brunch. She was certain.

Karis paid her friends no mind as she changed into her sweatsuit. The girls threw out hypotheses and theories about this mythical Kevin. Little did they know, they were on mute as Karis tamed her coily hair into a half-up half-down style.

Karis finally unmuted herself as she laid her edges, “Y’all done?” Her friends looked to each other in silence, shocked that she’d just spoken after 5 minutes of unbridled chaos. “I just want to have a good time…for once. Let me just go to brunch and enjoy Kevin’s company. I appreciate the uproar around him, but let’s take this one moment at a time, aight?” Karis got up to pick out some shoes, “Sacai’s or Yeezy’s?”

Karis couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on a date. She couldn’t even remember going to a pleasurable business dinner. Studying and practicing medicine drained her of a social life and the opportunity to go on dates. Her family worked tirelessly for her to be the first doctor in the family, not be another wife. But this brunch date was different.

Karis sat in the car 10 minutes ahead of schedule, chest tight, and palms sweaty. Every social skill she possessed suddenly ceased to exist in this moment. She couldn’t even read the menu she’d just Googled. How amazing was the sight of the incomparable Dr. Karis Z. Brown herself—the surgeon that could do CABGs with one arm tied and repair carotids for breakfast—nearly hyperventilating at the thought of going to brunch with someone she met in her godparents’ coffee shop earlier in the week. “Get it together, mane,” she encouraged herself as she opened the car door to the slap of the sharp October Chicago wind at your face.

“What if she ghosts and makes me look like a fool?,” Kevin asked Kim as his leg bopped to the beat of the overhead music.

“Based on what you’ve told me about her, she doesn’t sound like the ghosting type. Besides, she’s 5 minutes early. Just breathe, Kev,” Adam instructed him over the phone. “Hey…,”he caught his attention, “…she might be as nervous as you are, if not more. The way you talked about her yesterday, it sounds impossible that she’d flake. Go enjoy yourself.”

Just as the call disconnected, the elevator door opened, revealing a nervous Karis looking down at her phone. Kevin’s face lit up as he saw her walk towards him in her khaki sweatsuit, brown fleece coat, matching chocolate Telfar, and Yeezy Foam Runners. She noticed his jeans, grey hoodie,navy flannel shirt, and wolf grey retro Jordan 12s.

The two embraced for the first time ever. She wasn’t certain of the cologne he wore, something with tobacco…maybe musk and leather… but whatever it was made her melt into his embrace. Lord, he smelled like a grown ass man.

After reluctantly pulling from his embrace, he offered Karis the seat in the booth. “A gentleman,” she complimented. The smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth spread to a full smile.

Karis got a corner glance at his shoes before he sat down, impressed at his shoe choice, “It could be my exhaustion, but are those the wolf grey 12’s?! They’ve been sold out here since I’ve moved here.”

His jaw dropped, “Girl, what you know ‘bout that?! Lemme find out you a sneaker head and a surgeon?!,” he remarked.

She threw her hands up, “Guilty as charged. It’s like the one thing that keeps me sane.” Karis felt her gapped smile betray her once again as she nervously fiddled with the gold necklaces around her neck. Kevin took notice; he was already entranced by her smile. He bit his lip, thinking of what to say next. The waiter coming to send the mimosa and water carafes gave him enough time to conjure something.

He looked at the caduceus and anatomical heart necklaces, “You always knew you wanted to be a heart surgeon?”

Karis glanced down at her heart necklace, shaking her head, “Nope. Wasn’t even in the cards until my med school rotations.”

Kevin’s eyes bucked open, “For real?!”

“I initially wanted to be a trauma surgeon or in sports med,” she admitted, filling both stemless flutes with passion fruit mimosas.

Kevin took a sip, noticing the potency of the drink, “So…shit that’s strong…what was that ‘a-ha’ moment?”

“My mom. She’d gotten sick from past trauma and I almost lost her. She had a cardiac tamponade—fluid from a sac in the heart fills the veins and blood and decreases oxygen flow, amongst other things. I wanted to help find a cause and solutions for her, so I went deep in my cardio books and found something. It saved her life.”

“I take it you and ya moms close?”

She pondered, “I’m her only child and there was a point that we were all we had. With everything we went through, we became trauma bonded.”

Kevin didn’t think he and Karis would have somewhat similar upbringings. His raising himself and later his siblings in Chicago and her being basically raised in Memphis by her mom before she met Karis’s stepdad. He had her figured out until they conversed.

It was easy to talk to each other. The conversations with one another felt familiar, as though they’d been friends for ages. With the aged feel of those conversations came the novelty of learning about one another. Karis quickly learned that Jordan and Vinessa—Kevin’s siblings—were the center of his universe. He showed her pictures of them, the smile on his face getting brighter the more he talked about them. In the same vain, Karis’s nieces and nephews (her step-sister Mary Margaret’s kids) were the lights of her life. Karis showed him the picture of her, Mary Evelyn, Luke, and Jacob at Jacob’s baptism. They were her “loaner kids” whenever she was back in Memphis.

Kevin’s gears began turning. He noticed how much Karis was active in church, based on the baptism picture and the mention of receiving Eucharist earlier this morning. He had to ask, “You Catholic?”

She huffed, “Close. Episcopalian. My mother is married to the Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of West Tennessee. Charleta Duncan, the blackest of women, married the whitest man in all of Memphis, Patrick O’Doughtery Brown. Yet it somehow works,” she caught herself holding back a loud laugh. Kevin laughed with her.

Karis finally checked her phone, which revealed that an hour and a half had passed. Where did the time go? Karis also saw the group chat was abuzz for updates and her whereabouts. Loren and Essence were asking for Kevin’s Social Security number, while Jada asked for his dental records (ironic since she was a DDS) and most recent background check. Karis prayed an “I’m fine. Lemme have fun” reply would suffice.

The DJ had been playing 90s R&B all day. Banger after banger after banger, people found themselves dancing in between tables and singing their hearts out.

Then it happened. She heard the three piano chords and 808 beat of her favorite song, Can We Talk, and that was all she needed to hear. Karis dramatically dropped her phone on the table, hands high in the air as to submit to the beat of the song.

“Girl whatchu know bout this,” Kevin joked as he watched her dance in her seat.

She didn’t respond. Karis waited for the lyrics to start. As Tevin Campbell began to talk his shit, so, too, she began lip-syncing to the words. Kevin, also singing, scooted out of the booth. He reached out for her hand saying, “Let’s talk then, mamas.” Karis accepted his offer, sliding out of the booth.

“Lemme show you how to step,” he offered. He took her free hand into his. He began twirling heg around, while moving his feet front, back, front, side, side, left, and right. She did her own combination, surprising Kevin.

He twirled her away from him, “I thought surgeons couldn’t dance,” he pulled her back in close.

“You ain’t met one from Nawf Memphis with an uncle and aunt in Chicago, mane,” she retorted. The pair continued stepping, working in tandem with the rhythm. He maneuvered her away and close to him while still singing with her.

They sang the final bridge at the top of their lungs. Everyone else in the restaurant became a choir as they all sang aloud. As the song ended, Kevin escorted Karis back to the booth. Luckily for them, the waitress had finally appeared with their entrees. Kevin remarked about the fun he had and how ready he was to eat. Karis seconded.

As Kevin ate the sample of salmon and eggs she offered, she found the right moment to ask, “Y’know, you’ve asked a lot about me. I wanna know about you. If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do for a living?”

He choked on a piece of egg, “I’m a uh…business consultant,” he replied after gathering himself.

Her gut turned as he replied, “Is that your final answer?” He knew she knew something. Not quite that he was an undercover cop, but something.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“What’s your life goal?,” she asked without skipping a beat.

Kevin pondered, “Being a househusband.”

“You’re joking,” he wasn’t. There was a smirk held back, but he was about 45% serious.

“I mean, you’re a surgeon. Jackpot, right?,” he winked and licked his lips.

Karis re-adjusted herself, tilting her head before she spoke.

“To call yourself a househusband implies that we got married; to be married implies that we were betrothed; to be betrothed implies that were courted; to have courted implies that we went on other dates besides this one. Correct me if I’m wrong, Mr. Atwater, but it appears that you’re enjoying yourself and want to go on a another date?,” she observed as she downed her final mimosa, proud of her Sherlock-level deduction skills.

“Somethin’ like that. I do like being around you and I’d love to see you again,” Kevin offered her another bite of his chicken and red velvet waffles as he looked at her, clearly flustered at his charm and suave nature.

“I’d love a second date.”

He insisted on following her back home. He was concerned for her safety and wanted to see his date get in the house. He jogged to her door from his Hellcat, being sure she didn’t touch the handle. After the fight over the check (which she won), the least he could do was open Karis’s door. Karis usually went through the garage into the house; but since she had an audience in the foyer, it was her obligation to give them a show.

Karis led Kevin through the pathway in her front yard to the door. The rustled curtains confirmed Karis’s suspicion of nosy ass friends awaiting her arrival.

Kevin looked behind his date to see curtains rustling, “You must have someone over expecting you.”

Karis kicked the front door and adjacent wood panel, an attempt to shoo the girls away, “Oh, Kev, don’t pay they nosy asses no mind,” she said loud enough for them to hear inside. The two of you guffawed. The fact there were doctors listening to their friend’s conversation behind the door and foyer wall was so childish, yet comical. In the midst of the laughter, Kevin found her hands and held them between the two of them. Smooth fucker.

Once more, their eyes connected and simultaneously bit their lips, smitten with each other in the moment.

There was an obvious connection between the two love birds. For once, they mutually felt a sense of relief to be themselves. How is it that two strangers that met in a coffee shop by happenstance, were already so close after one brunch date? The romantic tension around them was nearly physical. It seemed as though they couldn’t be too far away from each other. Every once in a while, two people meet and in that initial meeting, it’s apparent to the Universe that they are meant for each other. They weren’t able to put their finger on it immediately, but this was Kevin & Karis. For once, they were able to enjoy someone’s company and immediately want to go somewhere else before their first date ended. They were destined.

“Karis, I really enjoyed you today. Seriously,” Kevin flashed a smile that made Karis’s feel an unfamiliar warm sensation radiate through her body.

“Same here, Kev. This was a breath of fresh air. We should do this again. Hopefully soon?”

He gently placed his large hand over her chin, peppering her lips with a meaningful, yet brief kiss, “Yeah. Real soon. I’ll holla atcha when I get to the crib?”

The sensation of his kiss, though temporary, weighed on her lips. She’d gone a hot minute without a kiss on the lips, yet his satisfied the long-ignored absence.

“Yeah,” was all Karis could muster.

He flashed one last wink before ducking into his Hellcat and driving off.

Karis couldn’t focus on getting your key into the door. Between the kiss, the cold, and the mimosas, she was literally stuck. After struggling to turn the key into the ever-moving lock, her friends were pushed out of the way by the 70+ year-old wooden door. Karis silently made her way to her usual spot on the L-shaped sofa. The girls filed into their usual seats in the den, all grinning with anticipation to ask about the date, parts seen and unseen. The minute Karis looked up, they all shrieked, startling her. “Don’t start allat bullshit, now,” Karis warned as she took her bra off, sighing in relief.

The warning went unanswered; the girls attacked their slightly buzzed friend with a group hug, to which she immediately swatted away.

“GIRL!,” Essence began, “He is FOINE AS HELL! Look at you!”

Loren added, “I gotta say, Kare, you did good. The fact I’ve never seen him before shows me that you’re real good. You gotta tell everything! I mean…ev-ver-ree-thang!”

Karis recalled what she could, from the call to the kiss. The whole time, she grinned, showing how smitten she was with Kevin. Seeing her elated made them happy. They knew the insecurity she had about being alone.

A few hours passed and everyone had returned home to get ready for work. Karis showered, did her nightly skincare routine, and prepped her work bag. Finally in bed, she turned to cut her bedside lamp off.

As if on cue, her phone buzzed. Kevin was trying to FaceTime.

“You must’ve seen me get in bed,” she jokingly answered.

Kevin chuckled, “Nah, just calling to let you know I got home 40 minutes ago. I had to help Vinessa with somethin’ and forgot to call you.”

“Oh really?,” she yawned, “Welp, I gotta be at Med at 4:45 a.m. for a surgery. Talk to you afterwards?”

“Sounds good, mamas, sounds good. Night.”

“Night, househusband-in-training,” she concluded, both laughing at her recall of their new inside joke.

Karis chuckled to herself as the sounds of crashing waves lulled her to sleep.

Kevin is going to be here a while.

DAAAAAAMNNNNNNNN! TAGLIST GOT ME PARKED IN DOWNTOWN AT-LANNUH 😭

@muse-of-mbaku @kumkaniudaku @goddessofthundathighs @mbakusthrone @mbakuwife @crushed-pink-petals-writes @forgottenthoughtsandmemories @jackburtonsays @randomwordprompts @bakarilennox @wakandan-flowerz @blackpantherreblogs @ljstraightnochaser @babygirlofwakanda @eerythingisshaka @turn-thy-paige @darqchilddaydreamz @doublesidedscoobysnacks @wakandas-vibranium @oshasimone @destinio1 @sonofnjobu @teheeboo @itsjustyazz @chaneajoyyy @lovelynervouschaos @katasstrophey @mareethequeen @jozigrrl @jellybean531 @awerkofart @storibambino @blackgirloneshots @royallyprincesslilly @certifiednatural

[kyoghurts]

(KENJI WTF WHY DID TUMBLR NOT SHOW ME YOUR BIRTHDAY POST THAT MAKES ME SO SAD IT MEANS I’M LATE TO SAYING HBD TO YOU I’M SO SORRY OMD 💔💔😭😭😞)

BUT HIIII HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY KENJI ML 😼☹️🎀 you’ve always been one of the sweetest mutuals i’ve ever had and i am so so fortunate to have been able to interact w you on this silly little app 🫂 (i feel v guilty and sorry as i am typing to you now)!!!! you’re an incredible person w beauty and talents — i’m afraid that the word ‘perfection’ was invented for you babe 😟💗

how does it feel to be 17? i hope that your first day as a 17 yr old was a thrilling experience filled w laughter and celebrations, and i wish for you to have a relatively (bc life is pretty shitty at times 🙁) positive experience of being 17!!! live out your youth, cherish your happiness, and keep on fighting (bc i assume that soon you will also face your final year of hs 😤)!

pls continue to bless us humble tumblr users w your DELICIOUS writing style and fics!!! i promise you that any time you write for bllk i WILL FS clean the plate >:) and i might just start watching mashle,, i wanna understand your love for mash (?) thru reading your fics bc they never miss 😚🫶🏻

I LOVE YOU A MILLION TIMES 😤💗!!! and i’m sorry LIKE ACTUALLY I FEEL SO BAD I’M SO SORRY 😭😭

you. are. legit. an. angel.

PLS DONT FEEL GUILTY SAKIII ☹️🙏 i will feel sad if you do. no need to worry !! still appreciate u lots 💐‼️ thank you for taking the time to drop by :(( i say this many times and i will say it again, YOU are so so very sweet 🥹

the first time we became moots, my first impression of u actually was that you’re reserved/someone who doesn’t interact much. but i got taken aback just as quickly 😭 like how is this person my moot rn??? everytime u reblog my stuff i always ALWAYS roll around in my bed kicking my feet, or sometimes when im outside and see the notif, i’d have a difficult time to hide my giddiness in front of others 😰😰

aaa i celebrated my bday in the utmost chill way :3 i got to rot in bed, play a little w hsr, and ate cake with some other goodies 🥰 also thanked my friends and others who greeted me !! which drained my social battery but that’s to be expected 😭 UAGHHH THANK YOU SM SAKI ILY , and yes, im in my final hs now, one more year and were off to college 😵‍💫

JAW DROPPED IM SPEECHLESS 😧 UHM UHM THIS MIGHT BE SELFISH OF ME BUT PLS DO WATCH MASHLE!!!! promise u WON’T regret it. COME YAP W ME OKAYYY anytime, mashle related or not !! and uh, tbh, i havent catched up to the recent chps of bllk 🫠 i’ve put it on hold for a while but i’ll try to get back to it and maybe it will relive my obsession again!! otherwise, know that my inbox will always be open 4 u :(( or if u have other socials, im down to disclose them to u <33 (if ur comfy, no pressure saki <3)

I LOVE U A BAZILLION TIMES !!! 💗💗🌹 PLS ITS OKAYYY I WILL BE SAD IF UR GUILTY 😞😞😞

[merbear25]

Hiii! I’m really glad to see that the hetalia fandom is still alive!! I would love to do personalised/match up form thingy!! Thanks for doing this again btw :^D

I did some characters and then looking at it now-I hope it’s not too much (if so, i apologise in advance fhvhsk I’ve never really submit a matchup before!)

I go by She/Her and I hope I can be 🌻🐸 anon!! Some basic stuffs about me: INFJ-T, 4w5, sun sign is libra and both moon and rising are aries.

For Allies:

Canada - Honestly, he is one of the countries that I can imagind myself getting along with. I’m quite introverted but I can be quite animated and high-strung (eg. having social anxiety and all that jazz) which ironically are hard to grapple with when I have limited energy. So sensing Canada’s overall demeanor - I probably will match his quieter energy though I can be a little high strung or animated at times. Also, I would appreciate people who are more sensitive as well!! And lastly?? Dude has a pet polar bear that talks - as an animal lover, I will be gushing over Kumajirou 😭😭 Yes, I’m that friend that will beeline to the host’s pets etc. in a party unless I have people familiar with to include me in conversations with more unfamiliar acquaintances and introduce me to new people :, ) I think I would also try to help include Canada in stuffs since its honestly sad that he’s pretty invisible to everyone around him and p much lives in his brother’s shadows. Also!! I would love to go to his country and sightsee - I do sometimes hike casually with my friends and I like strolling around, especially places with animals to spot e.g. national parks, gardens, etc. and hes probably really experienced with hiking and even surviving the wilderness (I have a horrible sense of direction - all my friends literally know me infamously for being directionally challenged isivhfsdb, I got lost in a classroom before)

America: This is kinda a tricky one because it really depends on how I met him e.g. the settings and circumstances but I’m just gonna assume we have good first impressions! I honestly think I will be more reserved and shy (Think Japan and his interactions) but will eventually warm up as long as he doesn’t push me into uncomfortable social situations or drained my social energy a lot. It could be like a case of an extrovert adopting an introvert :, ) I would bond over and geek out on comics and games with him. Also ngl we may just be meme buddies especially with the silly Gnarp gnarp memes (I got an aftonsparv ikea alien plush because of all these memes dkhwghv)

England: I think this is a little more straightforward - I will reel back my energy and would be quite polite. However, I can foresee myself needing time and more interactions to get used to his sharp-tongue or blunt way of speaking at times before I can actually be friends with him. I guess one of the shared interests I have with him may relate to supernatural as I do,,, have the ability to see spirits (I have so many ghost stories to share, mine or from others’ experiences). I think leveraging on that shared interest - I will open up and have more to talk about :^)

France: He gives off big brother energy and can be quite affectionate even platonically. I may be overwhelmed with his openness to show affections e.g. touches and compliments at first but ultimately will grow to appreciate his ways of showing care. I think he’s really attuned to people’s emotions and empathetic too and I would definitely appreciate his support?? Totally exude king of self-care and I definitely need help with that because I have a tendency to prioritise school + work over my health (got admitted to the emergency for the past 6 months because of that :, ) )

Russia: I feel like he’s an enigma for me to discern if I will get along well with him? It depends on the first impression and contexts? ? I can see myself getting intimidated if I witnessed his interactions with the Baltic countries. However, we would get along well if he’s gentle and nice to me and others?? Because of my social anxiety, I am very perceptive and sensitive to someone’s vibes, so I am always on the look out for how someone interacts with me and their interactions with others -I feel like I will be wary of Russia out of gut feelings or seeing how he casually intimidates people wordlessly. However, I think we will mostly be amicable to one another :, ) One of our shared interests I think we can bond over is probably sunflowers? I personally love them a lot and in fact, I love the colour yellow a lot to the extent most of my items even what I wear is mostly yellow. I really like cute things too and honestly I remember that scene of him getting rejected by a hamster- that was rlly honestly sad even though its supposed to be funny dhfkfhdhb

China: Aaah another big brother and also grandpa energy (I guess England does exude grandpa energy to a certain extent too-) my ethnicity is Chinese so that’s already kinda ‘entry point’ to befriend him or stuff :,) I can honestly imagine him chiding and nagging me from my bad habits of not taking good care of myself and also dishing out blunt yet wise advices. I overall will respect him but may tease him like a little sibling because I do have gremlin sibling energy according to my friends, especially those who are older, but I am actually quite mature despite my childish antics. Also, totally will bond with his love for hello kitty because I love cute stuffs and my fav Sanrio character is pompompurin 💛💛

The Nordic 5 -

Iceland: It’s another case of oh wow !! You have a pet?? AND THEY TALK? Kinda scenario like Canada and it’s a puffin??? I may be a little cautious and polite at first because he may appear quieter and reserved but I think we will kinda click as friends. I think it’s canon that he wrote letters back then to make friends and I actually do have penpals to write to like sending snail mails and cute stuffs e.g. stickers, stationery and keychains!!

Norway: It may be a little hard for me to approach him as he seems withdrawn?? And his expression is usually unreadable so coupled with my social anxiety - I may not initiate or approach him on my own unless I have someone introduce me to him like Denmark to facilitate. From there on, it’s really kinda like up to how the interactions roll from there? I think we would be amicable and may bond over supernatural and stuffs too because I personally love supernatural related media and stuffs (I am also quite a horror junkie and don’t get spooked easily) It would be cool to learn various mythical creatures from his culture!!

Denmark: It’s another case of extrovert adopting introvert but I don’t know if it’s because of the way the fandoms perceived and write about him (one of my fav writers is alfredosauce!!) but I honestly can see myself hanging out with him and find him fun to be around especially with his love for legos. (I would love to get the bonsai tree lego kit ;; the leaves are frog legos??? How cute is that??) and I do have an extroverted friend that lowkey reminds me of him and we have been friends for very long. I feel like we will be meme besties too - collectively sending 10+ reels at 2 am and going why are you awake??

Sweden: It’s kinda like Norway but even more likely that I won’t approach him and if I do, I will be really polite and reserved (also social anxiously struggling with small talks and reading his expression/body language) I probably need someone to introduce me to him and hang out in a group or with someone along with Sweden to actually familiarise with him. With his hobbies being art-related and furnitures?? I think that will be the main interest we share and bond over because I am a self-taught artist (though I don’t exactly have time these days to do art) but I love drawing stuffs for my friends and admire people’s DIY and crafting skills so I would be impressed by his abilities.

Finland: He exudes mother friend energy based on how approachable and gentle he is?? ALSO HANATAMAGO, I’m going to kidnap his pupper /j I think we will become fast friends?? And I would appreciate his caring demeanour. I think hes the kind of person who may not be close to you but finds out you're struggling, will do regular check-ins and I think I will honestly cry/touched by that.

Axis: Germany: I think at this point you may see a pattern but I tend to not initiate or approach people who may be hard to read and it goes the same with Germany. I think I would however work well with Germany because I actually tend to prioritise my work to be good quality (though I can imagine I can be quite stressed too sfhkdhs) After warming up and also knowing he has doggos, I think we will bond?? I have a goblin of a dachshund,, but I love both cats and dogs and all other animals :) I also realised how loyal he is as a friend and would rlly appreciate that trait!!

N.Italy: Maybe a case of extrovert adopting introvert again. I think I will be flabbergasted at how carefree he is??? Just him in his own world vibing. I think his energy will rub off on me though and we would eventually get along but I may act as a motherly friend unlike some other countries mentioned earlier because I'm quite an overworrier-

S.Italy: I know it’s canon that he’s more friendly and kind toward ladies so I think based on first impression - we would be amicable. I think this is pointed out by many hetalia writers and also its canon that he is jealous and feels inferior to N.Italy - I honestly think that depending on circumstances e.g. If I know him first before N. Italy, our relationship will fluctuate like a lot and it would be confusing why he’s hot or cold after I know his brother?? Unless he does eventually confide in me about his concerns or I will be left confused and rather drained on his behaviours :, )

For what I would do:

1) I think I will actually specify that I may return at a certain timing after accepting the invitation and hoping for their understanding. It’s really likely I will leave rather begrudgingly on the time I decided to leave but there’s that tiny tiny chance that I may stay an extra hour or two before really leaving.

2) As much as I would love to help and also my social anxiety, my first instinct is to apologise and say I can’t [and this situation will probably bug me the rest of the day ngl on how well I approached it-]

3) first day off in forever? I’m sleeping in and being a homebody my g. There’s a small chance of my friends that I don’t see often that may invite me out and I would often try to meet them for at least a few hours and the rest is just me vibing at home like listening to music, watching animes or reading mangas and even movies,, or just browsing through YouTube to watch videos especially those niche 2 hours + long videos in an obscure media to hyperfixate for the coming months.

Thanks for doing this again!! 🫶🫶 totes appreciate you taking the time to do this and I hope you're doing well and if not, I'm manifesting your days to be better 🥺 I look forward to matchups (they can be both platonic and romance) I'm chill with either!!

I feel like this took forever, so thank you for being patient! But, hello 🌻🐸 anon! I will gladly grant these emojis to you :) Thank you for sending in your request. I hadn't really considered having a kind of matchup side to this, but perhaps you've inspired me to change that ;p

I think the person you'd get along with best would be...

Canada

You have a good balance of calming and energetic moments that would pair well with his introverted personality. You'd be able to bring him out of his shell a bit and he'd be able to share the more tranquil moments with you out in nature or just relaxing at home together.

What they think of you...

Allies

Canada: When we first met, she took such a strong liking to Kumajirou that I wasn't quite sure if she'd noticed me standing there. She was very sweet though and started up a pleasant conversation. Even though she has some bursts of energy, I don't mind it. I actually like when she gets animated about her interests and wants to share them with me. I appreciate how often she includes me in whatever activity she has planned, even if I don't always go along with it, it feels great to be thought of. She's mentioned a few times how much she'd like to visit my house and I've already thought of some nice activities to do together. It might be nice to return her kindness with showing her around my home.

America: She's pretty cool to be around. Mattie actually introduced me to her and she seemed kinda shy at first, but she comes out of her shell more easily when Mattie's around. Got the impression that she needs to be around people she knows to really be able to get to know her.

England: Generally speaking, she's fine to be around when she's quiet. I haven't had many one-on-one conversations with her. From the ones we have had, it seems a bit hard to find common interests. I get the impression that I put her off based on her reactions to my responses to the others' tomfoolery. Perhaps my sarcasm is a bit much for her.

France: I've noticed she takes awhile to warm up to people, which is fine! She's so sweet when she's shy, though. I'd love to get to know her more. I've seen some of her art and admire her creative mind. I heard her mention her hospitalization and went into shock. If she lets me, I'd be more than happy to show her how to take things slowly.

Russia: Can't say exactly what I did to make her nervous, but I find it hard to approach her. Thinking back on it, maybe my conversation with Estonia put her off. Whatever the reason, it's made talking to her harder. It might be better for me to observe her and see how the others approach her.

China: She's a nice girl but needs to take better care of herself. I was floored to learn about her habit of putting her personal needs aside for work and school! It's unexceptable, so I've decided to bring small boxed lunches whenever I know I'll see her. At least then I'll know she's got one of her needs taken care of. If she needs help finding way to cope with stress, I'll gladly offer my advice.

Nordic 5

Iceland: I have to admit it was quite odd to see how animated she got seeing Mr. Puffin. She actually startled me, and I couldn't help staring at her while she gushed about how cute she thought he was. The only reason we had a conversation was because she changed the subject. I know she can have quiet moments, but honestly, I'm still recovering from that first instance.

Norway: She's too loud sometimes, especially when Denmark comes around. As long as he stays away, I don't mind her company. We mostly just exchange pleasantries, which is fine for me. She's asked about some of my home's fairy tales, and that was a little nice to chat about.

Denmark: She's fun once you get to know her! Yeah, she seemed a bit nervous at first, but we quickly moved past that. I love how excitable she can be! It's always funny to see her get animated, and when some of the others get shocked by it, I can't help but laugh! I want to bring out more moments like that from her.

Sweden: *stares* Hm....We don't talk much...Maybe I scare her. *stare intensifies* She makes nice art though... (He doesn't have an issue with you, but we all know how quiet and intimidating he can be!)

Finland: Oh, I'm so glad that Hanatamago helped introduce me to her! She's so kind and I always enjoy our conversations. I know that she gets a little anxious around others, but I hope she hasn't felt like that around me. I'd be happy to be the bridge of communication with Mr. Sweden. I know how scary he can be!

Axis

Germany: She doesn't cause any problems, so I don't mind her. She's fairly hard-working and responsible, although she needs to learn how to properly look after herself. I will say that Italy seems to have a negative influence on her. His happy-go-lucky attitude rubs off on her and she gets a bit distracted. I have to help snap her back to reality sometimes, but it *sighs* isn't too often, thankfully.

N. Italy: Oh, she's so nice. Sometimes she gets so nervous, though! I like helping her relax. I can't believe she has a habit of putting work and school before relaxing. The stress of work can wait, right? It's fun to get excited about art and other hobbies together! Germany doesn't always like how much time we spend together. I don't remember exactly what he said, but I'm sure it was something about discipline.

S. Italy: She's fine when she's not around my idiot brother. At first, I found it easy to talk to her, not really noticing her social anxiety, but I've seen her hanging around him more often. I don't really like his influence on her, but it's not my problem (he's very much made it his problem). She's asked a few times why I've been acting 'strange', but I don't really know what she means. Sometimes I just want to admire her art and be around her without having to talk to her, what's weird about that? (He'd try telling you something is wrong without actually telling you)

[saltysatellite804]

same long block-text anon. I also mean this in a non-aggressive non-blamey way. I didn’t mean you were aggressive or anything toward the earlier anon, but that you took the chance to be aggressive toward yourself in your reply. you didn’t sound any other way except hurting :(( but yeah I know. just saying to do things doesn’t make doing them any more possible. I don’t know what else to say either bc communicating is hard. I say that as I fail to do so in my everyday IRL, even between the span of my last ask and this one. it’s easy to assume random people and anons on the internet can wash their hands free of you the moment after we click send. fleeting interactions make up a lot of the human experience. I wouldn’t say I would think of it that way though. a stranger on the street helped me up after I tripped over a storm drain and into a massive puddle on concrete while it was raining, told me she hoped I could get home safe and sound, then “washed her hands free of me” after. not sure what that has to do with anything but (gestures vaguely). many people share the sentiment that everyone deserves happiness or at least not be in turmoil all the time so it’s the simplest thing they can share in the timeframe they have. I also get that believing such a cheesy universal thing is difficult. does someone care less about another person (singularly) or is someone lying about their well-wishes in a moment just because they also hope everyone they know is happy? (nonsensical rambles) I see. about the fandom thing. cause I have a short attention span and can only really engage in conversations about my own interests, and I don’t think you’d want half-assed convos in that way. and also you mention you’re not look for friends anymore bc of that hurting. I don’t really know if my general presence as a random anon is doing anything… helpful? or inducing less numbing feelings? and if it isn’t? honestly, I guess it doesn’t matter a whole lot. since I’m just a random anon lol. I’ll get off your back bc like I said I’m incredibly self-conscious and have no idea what I can do here within my power or with the little energy I have. except send an ask or two haha. I was gonna say… idk, brainrot with me over some fandom stuff, but yeah. not sure where to go after “saying it” since I’m just a shy anon who’s not brave enough to get off it and you’re not looking for new fandoms. we probably don’t share any fandoms at the moment but I’ll ask anyway to end the ask off in a more neutral way: what are you into right now?

I do want to apologize for not being clearer that I do appreciate the anons, honestly. I realize I didn't express this because it can be hard to admit things help when it's still painful. It is less painful than getting nothing back. Aka I think it does help even when my brain is in a space where it does not feel capable of believing it.

I am glad that stranger helped you! That was kind. I do not think there is anything wrong with fleeting interactions like that, but there is an assumption that when you go home and never see them again, you have people you're safe with. Friends or family. People who love you or are safe for you. I would not mind having fleeting interactions if I had the latter.

See, I wouldn't call you selfish. Even if I do not know you. You sent an anon even when I seemed like...well...not very approachable probably and you were nervous about it. I feel that how I really only want to talk about my interests, so I feel that in my bones. It's the part of me I hate though. It's isolated me my entire life because I don't fit into any groups. But I get this feeling even when I find people like me into the same stuff, I still feel like, oceans away from them on a social level?

But. I also did this thing where when I had friends I was more than willing to let them ramble excitedly about their interests at me and I would try to engage even if I wasn't perfect about it. My ex got me into a couple shows. But I also don't recall a single instance where any of those people checked out what I was into (apart from songs, which I appreciated). Not that that was super important to me, as in breaking the friendship type deal. I was content enough that they wanted to share in my world. My last interaction I had with one of my apparently not so best friends, was she invited me to watch a show (since she lives in another state) online with her. I liked the show, said I wanted to watch more and then. Nothing. Never a single follow-up.

And somehow I've seen folks who met years ago over a shared interest, moved on to other stuff, and are still thick as thieves. They still create with each other and stuff. And it causes me this uncontrollable jealousy that frankly fuels my self-hate (because what decent person is jealous of people trying to enjoy their lives?) and it's really hard for me to stop it. Even when rationally I know it's fucked up to feel that way.

I would love to stop hating myself, but I cannot become a person who is not this selfish lonely creature. I do not see a solution for my issue.

And it makes me feel broken. It's not that I don't want friends, if I'm honest. It just feels like even when I'm trying my very best to be a good person, it's not enough. When I try to pretend I'm not this depressed, desperate person, it doesn't work. Why am I the one who can't seem to hold onto anything? It's probably irrational, but every time I open tumblr, or discord, I see how empty it all is. Messages. Discords I left. The green light of people I have in my friend list who are online but who haven't acknowledged me in years.

Sorry for getting windy there on that stuff. And I probably sound like a broken record. It's in my nature to over-explain.

For the fandom stuff, it's kind of embarrassing that I'm still stuck on the same stuff I was like five years ago. But I have a lot of stories I'm still creating that I am in love with and even though some new stuff has intrigued me, nothing captures my heart that way. I don't know why I'm like this but as a coworker I once had liked to say.

"It is what it is."

Thanks again for reaching out.

[fqreverwinter]

Hey I saw that you were looking for requests! Could you make a little one shot of the reader where she and Peter are in the same class and she sees her talking with one of her friends about her friends date? And once she’s done talking with her friend she immediately shuts herself out from the world and seems pretty down. And she catches peter staring at her and she gets nervous, so she leaves and peter finds her and asks her what’s wrong and then they confess to each other?(I was thinking that the reason why the reader is said, is because her fiend went on a cute date with a cute guy and she wishes she could have that with Peter, but she thinks that Peter doesn’t like her because she’s a really outgoing person and annoys people sometimes when she’s just being herself. If that makes sense? I’m sorry if this is kind of confusing) Also, thank you for taking the time to read this, I know that you were looking for mini one shots to write but I still appreciate you taking the time out of your day to make people happy, we need more people like you in the world ❤️❤️ (sorry if that was sappy haha 😅)

no this is so sweet!!! i love this idea! and i appreciate ur message omfg thank u <3

~ ~ ~

valentine

relationship: peter parker x fem!reader (although i imagined mcu!peter!!)

masterlist

***

“So he ended up getting me the flowers and the teddy bear!” your best friend Katie exclaimed, making you laugh.

“What are you supposed to do with something that big?” you asked through a smile.

“Honestly, it’s just sitting in the living room. I have no idea how it’s gonna fit in my room. God, I just wish guys didn’t think that girls want all this sappy stuff. I have so many useless gifts at this point,” she complained with an eye roll.

“At least you get dates,” you muttered under your breath. Katie didn’t hear you, and she just went back to obsessing over how she got the captain of the football team to ask her to the upcoming spring formal.

Your mind drifted. You couldn’t stand another minute of Katie going on and on about boys. You didn’t care about boys—except for one specific boy: Peter Parker. Sweet, shy, genius Peter Parker.

You had a crush on him for years. In your eyes, he was the cutest guy in school. His social awkwardness should’ve turned you off, but it made him even more charming to you. But you weren’t even sure if Peter knew you; sure, you were decently popular, but he never seemed to acknowledge your presence. It broke your heart into pieces.

As your thoughts continued to wander, Katie finally wrapped up her rant. You were brought back to reality when she said, “So that’s why I landed on Jake.”

“Cool,” you said with a nod, pretending to know what she was talking about.

“Anyways,” she said with a sigh. “I gotta go return this book to the library. Wanna come with me?”

You shook your head, “I have some calculus to get done.”

“Suit yourself,” Katie replied. “See you at lunch.”

You waved as she went up to the teacher for a pass. You felt yourself retreat inside your head. Usually, you liked to be loud and outgoing, jumping on your friends and making silly comments. But when Katie was around, she made you feel drained. You loved her, but she had this little way of always trying to be better than everyone. It wore you out to no end.

While staring at your blank math homework, you felt someone staring at you. You turned around to catch Peter’s brown eyes looking at you. He quickly turned away, however, and acted like nothing happened. Your heart beat doubled.

Was he really looking at me? you thought.

Nerves overcame you. You cleared your throat and closed your notebook, deciding to go for a walk to clear your mind. You got a pass from your teacher and rushed out of the classroom. You exhaled as soon as you stepped outside.

You wandered down the hallway for a few seconds then decided to go to your locker. As you arrived, you felt someone behind you.

“Hey, are you okay?”

You turned to, once again, see Peter Parker looking at you. He stood right next to you, a look of concern on his face.

“Uh—Yeah, yeah,” you stuttered with a dismissive wave. “I’m fine. Why?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted with a shrug. “You just seemed a little—upset. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you sighed, leaning against your locker. “It’s just Katie problems.”

“I thought you guys were friends.”

“We are. She can just be a little…much, sometimes. Like today she was going on and on about her date yesterday and all the gifts she’s gotten from guys. I can’t stand hearing all of that in one sitting.”

Peter laughed, “Yeah, Valentine’s Day really brings out the most obnoxious side of people.”

“I know right! Like I don’t care about your date or your exes or—Anything! Katie just wants to brag that she has a boyfriend and I don’t.”

“Didn’t Flash ask you out?”

You groaned, “Flash makes my brain hurt. I’d never go anywhere with him. Besides, I kinda have my eyes set on someone else.”

“Oh?” Peter said with a surprised look. “May I ask who?”

“Oh—Uh,” you said sheepishly. “God, this is gonna sound so bad but it’s—.”

“—You,” you and Peter said simultaneously. Your eyes widened as his lips curved into a smile.

“Wh-What?” you stuttered. “You…like me?”

“Of course I do,” he confessed. “I just didn’t think you’d like me back.”

“I felt the same way!” you gasped. “I thought you’d think I was obnoxious and annoying or something. I’ve been too scared to say something to you.”

“I thought you’d think I was a geek,” Peter said with a laugh.

“Well, you are a geek, but that doesn’t matter to me.”

“Really?” he said with a smile.

“Really,” you repeated. “And it feels so good to finally get that off my chest.”

“So, uh—Can I take you out then? For Valentine’s Day?”

“That was yesterday,” you said with a laugh. “But sure. We can call it an anti-Valentine’s Day date.”

“Perfect. I’ll uh, pick you up at seven?”

“I’ll be waiting, Parker,” you said with a smile as the bell rang. Feeling a rush of confidence, you leaned in and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. Peter looked at you with blown eyes and a rosy blush. You felt your own cheeks heat up, but you kept your cool.

You adjusted your backpack on your shoulder and turned to go to your next class, while Peter stood there, still in shock.

With a giggle, you added, “And don’t be late.”

[atomicfilm]

INTJ pairings

I'll make this into a fun short "put you in my pocket and take you `to my mom's Thanksgiving party" version too.

I'm not an INTJ, but I do converse with them (and by them, I mean maybe 3 total and 1 regularly) and I've been asked to talk about my thoughts on this, so for tonight only, I'm giving myself a really cool sash that says I'm an authority on the subject. I also think as an INTP I run into somewhat similar issues with certain types.

* means I like this pairing.

Typically, the INTJ's golden pair is the ENFP. I think that works for some people, but is probably a kind of short-lasting passionate fling rather than the ideal pairing. ENFPs are great people, they're lots of fun to be around, they care a great deal. They bring out the INTJ's soft side, which they may hate but they secretly quite admire. But ultimately, ENFPs can be flaky. They see something new and exciting and they move on. Novelty is the greatest motivator in a lot of ENFPs. New friends, new places, new things to do. And while the INTJ may deeply admire that and may find it quite exciting, it's not going to last forever. Eventually, the INTJ will become tired of playing games and want to settle into their ideal lifestyle pursuing their carefully strategized goals and the ENFP will become bored. The INTJ I speak to and I have the same issue, which is that ENFPs by nature are manipulative. It can be used for the good of inspiring people and bringing them together, but it can also become quite selfish and unstable. This leads to the ENFP saying things like "You try to apply logic to everything" or "you don't really respect me" or something like that when in reality, if someone loves an INTJ they'll love that they apply logic to everything and they'll love their snarky edges.

INFPs. I have not heard a lot of feedback about them as I think INTJs tend to be drawn more to extraverts. But as someone who spends quite a lot of time with INFPs, I would imagine that a lot of INTJs who can't make it work with ENFPs can also not make it work with INFPs. Once again, INFPs are great at engaging our minds but they are terrible at accepting that we live by rationality. INTJs use Fi a little bit, so to some extent they'll have similar engagements with their emotional side, but INFPs live by thinking "what can I do to nurture myself" and INTJs live more by "how can I best mold the world to fit my vision of efficiency". You'll see the commonality of Fi at the worst point possible when the INTJ is breaking down. INFPs kind of never stop using Fi and as someone who is thinking-dominant, that is almost impossible for communication. Ultimately, they'll eventually hit a point where their love languages and ways of interactions may be so disparate that they feel neglected.

ENTPs **. This is a golden pair that I can kind of get behind. The INxJs I know are obsessed with ENTPs and tend to think they're quite attractive. They're not only gregarious (when they're not arguing) but they're also quite intellectually stimulating and since they have opposite functions from the INTJ, there is still quite a bit of difference to make it fun. There shouldn't be too many emotional issues, aside from the fact that both these types tend to bottle up their emotions and resent vulnerabilities. The ENTP will probably be the more caring of the two in a conventional sense, but I would think both would have similar love languages of caring both through action and thought. ENTPs also tend to not be quite as flaky as a lot of xNxPs are, but, I would rate both of these types as highly likely to ghost. My best advice is that if you want to be around ENTPs, pick one who can be honest about their real values and whose values align with yours. If they make a lot of bigoted jokes, take that at face value, no matter how "ironic" it is. ENTPs can be a little fake in the sense that they will blend in just enough and hide behind so-called irony to be friends with a lot of different people.

INTPs. I don't really see it. I think INTPs are lovely as an INTP who likes other INTPs. Likewise, I enjoy a good conversation and friendship with an INTJ. But I find it not only difficult to tolerate relationships but also being told what to do. I make every decision in a relationship as a compromise and I think that would eventually quite interfere with the INTJ's ambitions because I wouldn't back down on mine...at least, not without resentment. So perhaps an INTJ and INTP with similar life goals could work out romantically, but personally, I view them as platonic and the one time I liked an INTJ it ended beyond poorly. I don't bring out their softness and they don't bring out mine. We're more like buddies who complain about other people when we do the entire group project by ourselves. Of course, romantic preference is a preference.

ENTJs. When has it ever worked out for someone to date their sister-type? Name one time! If someone names one time I'll update this. I think an ENTJ and an INTJ would be quite an argumentative couple even if they were on the same side about everything. Then again, INTJs do admire extraversion and it is always nice to be around people you don't have to explain yourself to every sentence.

INFJs ****. Oh, I like this pairing. I have not heard much about it, but I think it would be really cute. INTJs are complete badasses. They're very "I'm going to take over the world and you're just going to have to deal with it. And if you say no I will secretly cry". INFJs are very "I'm going to do everything in my power to heal everyone and the world and I am probably crying because I saw a baby bunny". INFJs are The Best! They have the softness of ENFPs but they're logical and they use Ni like INTJs but have Fe, which means they are thinking about harmony 24/7 and not that Fi-version of harmony. That genuine "I will make sure everyone is cared for at no social benefit to me" kind of harmony. They do socialize with a lot of people, but INTJs sometimes like to be social and party, they just aren't typically regarded that way. Do Fe and Fi mix that well? Maybe not. But as an Fe user who is quite fond of INFJs, I think they could potentially be a very cute power couple with the INTJ and there would be fewer issues with communication than other types as Ni-doms (but this also might be boring at the same time).

ENFJs. Similar to INFJs. They might work together a little less simply because of the change in function positions.

ESFPs *. Do I know for sure that this is a good pairing? No! But gosh, do I like it. INTJs become ESFP-like when they're sad. So, you know, maybe the ESFP will draw out the worst version of the INTJ and that could really suck. But this is the perfect little theatre kid dates total nerd trope and I like that. ESFPs have the social circle that the INTJ desires and the INTJ has the "got their shit together" vibes that ESFPs, despite being quite talented and successful, may lack. They both have skills one another can benefit strongly from, but it may come at the cost of a lot of arguments. Not sure. But I think this is actually my personal favorite since they have near-opposite strengths but a common reason to respect one another.

ISFPs: Pft. Idk. This is not the same as ESFPs. ISFPs are lovely but they sort of fill the same niche that INFPs do. Perfect for an INTP like me, but I don't think INTJs are looking for the quiet, artsy, weirdo so much because they already often fill that niche to some extent, even if it's more technical. I've noticed that INxJs really want to be around people who are the life of the party and very socially dominant (and ISFPs can fulfill that role, but there are other types who win via extraversion). The ISFP will likewise appreciate a little practicality, but I've noticed they're more likely to gravitate towards other xxFPs. Probably a better friendship and as a relationship would take more effort.

ESTPs: I think this one comes with its own difficulties and will work less than ENTP/ESFP pairings. This is because while they can have the same charisma that ENTP and ESFPs have, they can also have that same fakeness as a defense mechanism. Both will value action but the ESTP will probably drain out the INTJ more than ENTPs will (who are more ambiverts) and more than ESFPs too. With ESFPs, there's a good amount of the right kind of opposites. INTJs are action-driven, but they're strategic and take a while. ESFPs are action-driven, but they're more spontaneous. And ultimately, that leads to a lot of arguments about how to get things done. Whereas, the ESFP and ENTP might give the INTJ complete room to "manage", the ESTP seems less likely to do so.

ISTPs: This would be so stale. INTJs tend to show big emotions (to their own despise) when they're upset and ISTPs love to ghost at any sign of emotion. They would dip so fast. Top-tier friendship on an intellectual level but never particularly deep and unlikely, albeit not impossible to evolve into a relationship. Same issues as with INTPs, there's going to be a lot of admiration and probably not a lot of emotional attachment. I have witnessed an INTJ have a crush on an ISTP but that ISTP had a crush on me so that tells you how that went. Messy business. 

ESTJ: Yeah, I guess. I don't like ESTJs as a general concept but I suppose INTJs aren't necessarily as opposed to capitalism and tradition. Sounds dry. Next.

ISTJ *: This is probably a really solid pairing for the INTJ. Very marriage material, have the same job, raise cool kids. But I think that sounds boring. So if you want the "perfect life", this is probably a good type for you but I couldn't do that. You would probably only have minor arguments and the INTJ would have to learn to trust that ISTJs are incredibly good at reading situations while the ISTJ would have to learn to love that the INTJ is more fantasy-oriented than they are. Odd, right? Ultimately, you have two people who can be very commitment-oriented, who care for people the same way, who want to fix society, who analyze everything. You just have two generally different ways of doing that, where the ISTJ is probably actually better at being in society and the INTJ wants to change it in more drastic ways (although, for moral reasons they both want to change it).

ISFJ: I don't imagine it working particularly well. I honestly can barely imagine it at all. An ISFJ is my best friend and he is THE MOST gentle buddy. You cannot make fun of him even playfully and keep the friendship. Probably a deal-breaker for a lot of INTJs as they tend to love a good tease. My ISFJ has dated an INTJ before and while they’re still friends, it was a bad experience to witness all around. INTJs are very competitive and ISFJs are very open with their affection so that ran into issues but also, the ISFJ is not as likely to stand up for itself in a way that INTJs easily respect, which is to say, when they do it it will be something like “hey, you hurt my feelings” and if you’re the kind of person to  respond “then you’re too sensitive” you’ve got a whole ass toxic relationship on your hands. 

ESFJ: I think this could work a little better than the ISFJ pairing and a little worse than with the ESFP. Of course, there are general grounds for arguing over emotion vs. logic, but both types can have quite a good bit of talent and practicality coexisting. ESFJs tend to be a little better with criticisms (although they are still sensitive and should be treated very gently too) and they're more likely to want to accomplish goals that the INTJ finds easier to respect. For a lot of ISFJs, their goals are sweet and simple like raising a family, working as a computer scientist. The ESFJ might be a little more oriented towards large goals similar to that of the ESFP, which is more of the category that INTJs tend to fall into. However, the INTJ is going to have to accept that ESFJs love a LOT which means throwing a LOT of parties, probably the most out of any type and its probably going to lead to some burnouts. 

Overall, INTJs are great but need to learn to practice kindness and put their natural tendency for intellectual superiority aside. They shouldn't be with anyone that doesn't want to accomplish things they can respect. They shouldn't be with people who want them to compromise too much (they probably won't). They should be with people who bring out their nurturing capabilities and who they want to do things for, but not people that they see as incapable of taking care of themselves. They may prefer more social people and admire people who can network while being direct and genuine. Based on these criteria, INFJs and ENTPs are my highest recommendations while ESFPs (my favorite) and ISTJs also make the list for various reasons.

BUT, that being said, RELATIONSHIPS (including friendships) ARE A SKILL. They are most successful when someone becomes good at learning respect and compromise that doesn't cause resentment, regardless of type. All individuals will have different specific interests as well as red flags. And if you need me to tell you if your relationship works, it probably doesn't and you can DM me.

[fictional-scenarios]

hello! can i request an angsty fic with aizawa and f! reader where they break up? thank you!

i hope you enjoy this! i did it from his perspective, hope thats okay! also i know he probably wouldn’t actually be like this in a relationship, but for the fic, this is the only way i could see him being at fault :3

always appreciate reblogs and comments! if you’d lie to support me, here’s my ko-fi!

In the worst of the aftermath, Aizawa was not angry. He was never angry, not truly. Not even when he’d snap at his friends for bringing up her name, or when he’d feel rage churning in his stomach at the thought of her being with another. He was never angry. 

He was sad. So devastatingly, core achingly sad, that it kept him bed ridden for days at a time. Work, come home, eat and sleep. It wouldn't end. 

He’d always considered his quant home a safe haven, but lately it’d been feeling like a prison. It felt like a haunting museum, little bits of her as far as the eye could see. The memories were so vivid, he could still almost see the figure of her standing in his doorway. He could see her leaning on the window sill peering outside. He could see her shoes by the front door, her toothbrush in a cup upon his sink. He could see her under the covers with him, hushed laughter and soft snoring into the early morning.

Even now, he see’s her beside him in bed. He see’s the indent of where she should be, now terribly empty. It makes him feel cold, alone. 

But, being alone had never been a huge issue to him before all this. In fact, he knows it was the downfall of him. 

She’d just wanted him to go out with her now and then. She just wanted to take photos with him, hold his hand out in public without feeling like she’d been forcing him. 

Aizawa buries his face in his hands, his back leaning against the cold wall, blanket curled around his waist like a weight. 

All she had wanted was just a little more life. Just a few more kisses, a few more hugs. A few more signs that he truly cared for her, but he wouldn’t hear of it. She knew he loved her, why couldn’t that be enough? 

He refused public dates that weren’t anniversaries or events. He hated photos. He hated when she’d clasp fingers around his own, hated it because all it brought was attention. Paparazzi's scavenging and ruining every affectionate and tender moment they’d shared together in public. 

He never understood why it had to be public. He couldn’t wrap his mind around why she would insist they get out and so something together. Why couldn't hanging out in the seclusion of his home be enough?

Always so stubborn, especially when it would have been the correct time to give in. His annoyance and unwillingness to be anything other than slow moving and low maintenance drove her away from him. He was just fine being on his own, so why couldn't she?

‘I feel like you’re embarrassed of me,’ She’d cried, having hit her breaking point. ‘I feel like you don’t even really care about me.”

Aizawa’s jaw tightens. Of course I care about you. Why else would I want you here?

He should have said that. But, he didn’t. Just silently witnessed the destruction unsure of what to do next. Unsure of whether to argue, or remain dormant and quiet. Not quite apathetic, but he was never one for a shouting match. 

Unfortunately, he chose to remain still in the face of a crumbling heart. 

‘Even now, you won’t say a word. You don’t ever talk to me, Shota. You never ask how my day was, or if I want to go do anything. Why do I feel like I’m just here so you’re not lonely?’ She’d had fat tears welling in the pits of her eyes. She looked drained, broken. ‘I need more,’ Voice cracking, a terrible realization she’d stumbled upon. ‘I need more than that.’ 

It was a tense moment of silence. She shook her head and choked back a harsh sob.

‘Then that’s it.’ Lip trembling, feeling unwanted. ‘I can’t do this with you anymore. I’m leaving.’

At the lucid memory, Aizawa wish's he could go back and punch himself in the head. Say something, you idiot, he’d scream. Tell her to stay.

She’d passed him by, and the door slammed shut before he even turned to watch her go. 

It’s been weeks now, and he can’t seem to get his head right. It’d taken days before she came to collect her things, something he hoped would never come to be. A stupid part of him believed that she’d come around for some reason. It’d happened before- her storming out, him never changing, her missing him enough to just... Get over it. This time, however, was much different. 

Sinking in the memories, Aizawa feels his throat tighten at everything she’d said, and even worse, everything he didn’t say. His phone lights up beside him. 

yamada: are you still moping in there???? come out w us tonight! you need to get outta bed at some point

yamada: its been weeeeeeks!!!!!!! come on!!!!!!!

Aizawa knows he does. He knows his friend has been trying to get him to leave since it happened, but it’s hard.  He answered his friend, deciding that tonight he would in fact go out for a few hours just to clear his mind- anything is starting to become better than seeing a home empty of her. He sends the message, and his heart grows heavy.

He said yes to his friends when he was feeling sorry for himself, but never for her. He knew he deserved it, but it hurt not having her anymore. Especially when all he had to do was say yes sometimes. 

What stung the most was that he didn’t get to see her when she came to collect all her items, cram them into a box and leave for the last time. He’d hoped at that point, if it ever came to that, he could convince her to stay. But.. She hadn’t told him she was coming. Perhaps because she knew she was bound to give in. 

He came from from U.A., hoping that she’d be there, sleeping soundly or sitting terse on the couch ready for an argument ending conversation. 

But, she wasn’t there. In fact, nothing of her was. All her things vacated. Everything but the memory of her stripped away. 

Aizawa had stood stunned in the doorway. Then, it all came crashing down. She was serious this time. It was set in stone.

She’d really left him.

He didn’t think she’d actually leave him. Arguments were always so easy for Aizawa. He was a firm believer in ‘take me as a I am, or don’t take me at all.’ But, he’d never realized just how much changing she’d done for him. 

When he’d first met her at a group outing, she was full of life. She was bouncy and energetic. She had a sea of friends, a world of opportunities. But with him, with Aizawa’s stubbornness combined with her need and want to spend time with him, she went out less and less. Contacts in her phone dwindled from a vast ocean to merely puddles. 

Seldom she went out, and on the rare occasions she was able to get Aizawa to go, she’d dress in her best just for him to chastise her. ‘We’re not going anywhere that fancy,’ he’d remark, not noticing how her eyes fell. ‘Aren’t you a little over dressed?’

Guilt tore up his heart, now. She was always so beautiful dressed up like that, how could he ever say those things? Too late did he notice how she’d changed everything for him. Lost friends, missed outings, just so she could remain by his side. He did everything wrong and wasn't even willing to see it. He felt like a neglectful, stubborn, ass. 

Forcing himself up from bed, it takes all his strength to get up and wander into the bathroom. He’d need to start getting ready then if he was to go later. He was a slow moving creature, after all. Lazily, mentally drained and exhausted, he opens the mirror and pulls his toothbrush from the little shelves inside. The mirror swings shut and he’s met with his dreadful reflection. 

His eyes are even darker, redder, than they ever were with his quirk. Even he could tell he looked worse for wear. Drained, emotionally vacant yet so powerfully overrun with them at the same time. He looked dead. He brings the toothbrush to his teeth, but can’t bring himself to find the motivation to actually begin cleaning up. 

So tired. 

He just wants to sleep again. 

He wants to text her. But he doesn’t.

Tossing the toothbrush into the sink, resting his elbows on the edges and allowing his head to hang in sorrow, he wonders what she’s doing right now. It’s a warm Friday evening, the blue sky wide and clear. He’s sure she’s going out tonight, finally allowing herself the freedom to make up for all the time she’d missed with her friends. Friday’s were always Aizawa’s least favorite day. He just knew she’d want to go out, and he’d always combat it with a movie she’d been wanting to see, coming up with some random excuse as to why it wouldn’t be an ideal idea to go out. 

Then, he’d ignore how she sadly watched her friends social media stories about the night, and ignored their texts asking why she’s never around anymore.

God, what he would give for one more Friday night with her. He’d dress up, he’d take her somewhere so nice even he would be afraid he couldn’t afford the food. Her and all her friends. Whoever she wants, the whole world if need be. He’d do anything she wanted, strut her to a party on a red-carpet. Anything just for another Friday night. 

Aizawa’s eyes cast back up to his reflection. A lump forms in his throat, he watches his eyes glisten with tears. He wants to fall into the floor and forget about everything. 

Pushing himself away from the sink, he shake his head and gags on how tight his threat feels. Without even a moments hesitation, he finds himself right back in his room, pulls the covers aside, and drowns in them all over again. It’s dark, it’s cold. His own rooms uninviting without her. 

Yet, he can’t seem to bring himself to leave it.

His phone sits on his pillow. Aizawa opens his friends message. 

‘im going to stay in tonight. thank you for inviting me. im tired’

Aizawa doesn’t even want to see the messages his friend instantly starts blowing his phone up with. Instead, seconds after the text sends, he holds the power button until the entire screen goes black. He rolls over to face the wall, and he feels like he’s made of led. He swallows hard and gives into sleep all over again. His arm slings around a pillow, and he clutches it to his chest. 

A forever inanimate reminder of where she once laid. 

[lowkeyorloki]

lbd

After a fight with Loki, you wear the smallest dress you can to an Avengers press event...

(smut smut smut)

~

The party was awful.

Stark’s press events often were. It was interesting, how the media had changed over the past eight years. In 2012, you and the rest of the Avengers would only be seen on news stations. Now, it wasn’t out of the ordinary to for your names to be in tabloids next to celebrities like Taylor Swift or Noah Centineo. The team wasn’t just heroes anymore, you were public figures as well.

Hence the formal attire, the flashing cameras, the expensive wine. These events only happened about once a year- they were manageable. Just a pain. Besides, you always had Loki to endure them with.

Except, not tonight. And so, the party was awful, not just boring.

The argument you had with Loki last night carried over into today, and when you were asking him about the event, he gave you no answer. Never in a million years did you think he would ignore during this. The press, the world, had never really forgiven him for New York. He was hated by the general public. It didn’t help it was a well-known fact he was with you: you, the youngest Avenger. You, who had been America’s golden girl until Loki corrupted you.

That was what everyone liked to say. Really, you just got older. And cynical. You couldn’t fight the worst of the worst throughout the universe and remain idealistic. 

You and Loki had to stick together for public appearances. The reporters tore you to shreds if you didn’t. And besides that... You didn’t like not being around the god. It was so much better to face things with him. You were together. Even when things were tense, the two of you could always lean on each other. That was the nature of your relationship.

And yet, here you were, halfway through your third glass of champagne, giving Steve a half-hearted smile as he spoke. Every so often, your eyes scanned the large hall, eventually falling on Loki. He avoided your gaze each time.

You wanted to be angry, or bitter. That’s what you felt earlier today when he wouldn’t speak to you. Loki wordlessly dressed in his suit, looked you up and down in your floor length dress, and left your shared room. In a fit of rage, you had dug through your closet for something that would anger him. No, not anger. That wasn’t the right word.

Entice him. Make him protective. Despite your life with him, you were still seen as the innocent Avenger. The normal girl who stumbled into justice. You never wore short or form fitting clothes anywhere there would be cameras. You were modest. That was the role you were pidgeonholed into. Social media, combined with constant interest and exposure, ensured that. In 2020, half of being an Avenger was perception. Every team member was an archetype. Every team member adhered to that. Outwardly, at least.

So when nothing in your closet would accomplish what you wanted, you raided Natasha’s. She helped you pick out something no one would expect you to wear: A silky black body con dress. When you tried it on, it barely came halfway down your thighs. There was little left to the imagination, considering its length and low neckline. 

You paired it with heels, and painted your nails Loki’s shade of green. Natasha gathered your hair into a messy bun, leaving your neck exposed. Even Wanda joined in, brushing sparkles over your collarbone. You looked unlike you ever had before.

Honestly, you looked like Natasha did on a daily basis. That brought you some amount of comfort, knowing you wouldn’t be sticking out. But it went without saying you didn’t look like yourself, and no one had ever seen you like this. The press would have a field day.

But it wasn’t them you cared about. The only person you were thinking about was Loki.

And he didn’t even do a double take. When you first walked into the room, his eyes rested on you just a second. Then he turned away.

So you didn’t find yourself angry like you were just a few hours before this. When Loki ignored you, you only felt... Sad. Empty, almost. You had been upset with each other for less than a full day, but you missed him. If there was no animosity between you two, Loki’s hand would be on the small of your back right now, and he would be whispering into your ear. Sharing jokes about everyone at the party, wrapped up in each other.

You fought so little. It was something you weren’t used to. 

“Hey.” Steve sticks an elbow into your ribs, pulling you from your thoughts. Next to him, Bucky wears a worried expression. “You okay?”

You sigh. Tipping your head back, you drain the rest of your drink and then nod.

“I’m fine, Steve.” he looks uncertain. “I mean it. I can last one night without him. Just because I’m in a relationship doesn’t mean I’m any less independent.”

“I believe that.” Steve agrees.

“You only believe her because that’s how you are.” Bucky grins at Steve, leaning over to steal a quick kiss from Captain America. Steve smiles, just barely, and holds Bucky’s hand in his own after the dark-haired man pulls back. Your eyes flicker away, but a genuine smile grows on your lips. You love to see your friends happy. They deserve it, your whole team does. 

It’s moments like these, when Steve is focused on Bucky and you on Loki, you remember you and Steve used to date. It seems like a completely different time, but it wasn’t even ten years ago.

You were with Steve when Loki attacked New York.

“I’m going for a refill.” you state. Both men look uncertain. You pay it no mind. “Do either of you want anything?” 

They shake their heads in response, so you make your way over to the bar. There’s no one there, not even the bartender, which bothers you at first. Then you realize it’s exactly what you need. Just a few minutes alone to clear your head. The bar is in same room as everyone else, so classical music and conversation are all around you. Still, you manage to find solace.

It’s quickly interrupted. 

“Hello, darling.”

Loki.

His breath tickles the back of your neck as he speaks. As soon as you’re aware of his presence, his smell envelops you. You shiver, noticing how close he must be to you.

You don’t turn around.

“Hi Loki.” you greet him back, eyes forward. You voice almost shakes, and you exhale, willing yourself to keep cool. Loki was always so calm and collected, something he used as a weapon. Clearly, even against you.

Loki hums, and his fingers softly begin to dance over your bare shoulder. 

“You look different,” he states. “With those shoes, you almost reach my height. But darling, you have never looked so small.” Loki’s voice drops on that last word, and a wave of heat flashes through your body. You set your glass down on the counter next to you, worried whatever Loki does next will cause you to drop it.

“Funny.” you say. “I don’t feel small.” You know Loki, know what the word small is code for. “Or weak.”

Loki tuts, and his large hands slide from your shoulders to your hips. Your dress is so short that his pinkies lay on your bare skin.

“No, I suppose you don’t.” Loki leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he talks. You can’t help it, you tremble, your surroundings beginning to fade away as you focus on the god. “I bet you felt quite powerful, teasing me in this dress. Talking to Steve Rogers.” Suddenly, Loki pulls you into him, and you gasp. His length presses completely against your ass, and you are barely able to bite back a moan.

This is harder than you’ve ever felt him. Your breathing becomes hitched, but Loki’s strong grip keeps you glued to him. His fingers dig into your hips, and you’re sure there will be bruises tomorrow.

“Did you think,” Loki rolls his hips against you, causing a mewl to escape your lips. “...that I would forget your past with Rogers? That it had just, slipped my mind that he is the only man you have ever laid with besides myself?” Loki’s lips connect with the crook of your neck, pressing wet kisses there that are anything but gentle. “Or was that the point? To make me jealous?” Loki’s next words shake you the most. “Can you even count the amount of times I have been inside you?”

Just like that, his hands relax, and you begin to catch your breath.

“Smile.” Loki points, and you notice the groups of reporters making their way to you, cameras flashing. Loki pivots, turning both of you so you face the them. He drops one hand to his side, but the other snakes around your waist. It won’t be obvious in the photos, but his fingers are dangerously close to your heat, filling you to the brim with want.

Just as you manage to get yourself under control, the cameras begin flashing. You force a smile, and when you look at Loki, he’s staring straight ahead, expressionless.

You hated getting photos taken, knowing the headlines they would be paired with. But Loki hates it even more. You were always the victim in the media’s eyes, but Loki had never outgrown the villain. He worked so hard to be good, so hard to change. And for what? No one believed him, save for you and his brother.

Your heart grows heavy, and despite the fight, despite the teasing that left you melting in his arms, you want Loki to know you appreciate him. 

You tug on the front of his suit jacket, capturing his attention. Loki looks down at you, confusion in his eyes. You reach forward, placing your hand on the back of his neck and tugging him down so his lips met yours.

It was filthy, the way he kissed you in front of the press. Loki once again pulled you to him, your chests pressed together. He laid his hand on your back, and thank god he did, because it kept you grounded. Your teeth clacked together more than once, and Loki gave you no opportunity to gather yourself before he sucked on your bottom lip. Your were eyes closed, but you still heard as the reporters went wild, cameras snapping as they each tried to get the juiciest shot.

Loki was the one who ended the kiss, tugging away from you. He took your hand in his, waving with the other. In the crowd, you could see Steve standing in shock, arm around Bucky’s waist. Stark was next to them, looking furious.

Loki makes eye contact with you before he briskly walks away, tugging you with him. You have no time to ask where it is he’s taking you before you somehow slip into the kitchen unnoticed.

The kitchen staff stops, and you realize what this must look like to them. Loki, with a hungry look in his eyes, and you, swollen lips and practically half-naked. Jesus, was this where you thought the night was going?

“Get out.” Loki addresses the staff. They share glances, unsure of whether to listen. Loki sighs. “We are two hours into a four hour party. No one ever comes for food, they just want to drink. You are no longer needed. Now, get,” Loki’s irises flash green. “...out.”

They listen then, rushing out of the doors and through the backroom that will lead them from the building. The locks on each door click shut, surely a result of Loki’s magic. 

“You.” you squirm under the god’s harsh gaze. “Are a very. Stupid. Girl.” with each step Loki takes forward, you take one backwards, until your back is against the tiled wall. Your heart begins beating fast. You look to Loki’s pants, taking in the tent. Your heart rate accelerates even more.

He places his hands on the wall, one on either side of your face, trapping you with him. Wordlessly, Loki begins sucking on your collarbone, his lips moving down your breasts until they hit the neckline on your dress. Your eyes roll back, and you grip Loki’s hair tight. He rams his knee in between your thighs, and you cry out. 

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he rolls his hips, and now that you’re alone, you can feel and experience it to the fullest expense. Your mouth falls open as Loki presses his clothed length against your clothed sex, moaning and letting out a string of curses. “Look at me, darling.” You listen, obeying Loki as he removes his knee. 

Loki makes full eye contact as he takes your left breast in his hands, kneading and massaging you as he gauges your reactions. You begin panting, and soon enough, Loki grabs the front of your dress with both hands and rips it, exposing your bare breasts.

You hiss at the sudden cold, but it doesn’t last long as Loki sucks on your nipple, running his calloused thumb other the other. Loki swirls his tongue, and you whimper, arching your back. As the sensation builds inside you, Loki takes a steps back, drinking in the sight of you.

“The media won’t soon forget this. Until now, the worst they had caught us doing was holding hands.” he growls. His lips are redder than usual, and his hair was messy because of your fingers in it. “I can imagine the scolding from Stark.”

“Who cares about Stark? You just ruined Natasha’s dress.” you say, your voice strained. His absence is noticeable, and your body aches for Loki’s touch. He raises an eyebrow.

“Sweet girl, whose fault is that? None of this would ever have happened if you simply dressed appropriately.” the hair on your arms stands up. Loki hums. “I think you should make it up to me. You got us into this mess, did you not?” Loki smirks.

The feeling in your stomach builds up again, lust taking over you. You take off you heels, and sink to your knees. Loki’s pupils dilate as you move closer to him.

You unbuckle his belt, sliding it off and discarding it on the floor next to you. Slowly, you unbutton Loki’s dress pants, your fingers catching on the tip of his underwear as you do.

You want to draw this out, to tease Loki as he teased you. But when you see his hard length, and the damp spot on the cloth holding it, you can’t bring yourself to. Loki is a god, much stronger and faster than you. When you turn to dust, Loki will be as young and full of life as he is now.

But his needs are the same as any other man’s. You’re determined to fulfill them.

You brush your mouth over him, causing Loki’s eyes to close momentarily. When they do, you waste no time exposing him. Loki fingers run through your hair immediately, grasping tightly. You can hear his breathing become just a bit irregular. 

You keep your eyes on Loki’s as you lick him, from shaft to head. You lap at the precum there, then slowly take him into your mouth.

Loki lets out a sigh, his lips parting, and you rub circles onto his hipbones with your thumbs. You bring your arms against your chest, pushing your bare breasts up to make them appear bigger. You want to give Loki the best view possible.

It must have worked, because Loki’s hips buck forward. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, and you almost gag. Instead, you moan around him. setting a slow pace. Every so often, you flick your tongue across his head, and Loki tugs on your hair when you do.

Loki quivers, and he’s thrown his head back now. His eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth open, and he looks so pleased. Pride washes over you at the thought of you making him feel this way.

You bring your hand up, taking the parts of Loki that your mouth just can’t reach. With the added freedom, you circle his tip, switching up the pressure and surrounding him with your warmth. Carefully, you cup his balls, making sure every part of him is paid attention to.

Loki groaned as you fucked him with your mouth, cheeks hallowed. He begins panting, holding your head even tighter. His shirt has ridden up over his navel, and the sight nearly drives you crazy.

“I’m going to-” you don’t let him finish, picking up the pace until Loki jerks forward, spilling his seed with a curse.

There’s so much, some dribbles out the corners of your mouth before you can swallow it all. Your chests warms at the idea of part of Loki being inside you. You’ve barely leaned back to catch your breath before he’s pulled you up and into a kiss, groaning as he tastes himself on you. Your body becomes slack, relying entirely on Loki’s for support. 

“You’re insatiable.” he says into your mouth. He picks you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. Loki carries you to a nearby counter and sets you atop it.

Your dress is hiked up to your hips now, leaving you covered in just a g-string. As Loki begins to take it off, you stop him.

“Wait.” you say. He stops, giving you a surprisingly soft look. “I just...” you splay your hands across Loki’s strong chest. “I want to see you too.” your voice is quiet. 

Loki places his hands over yours as you unbutton his shirt. You slide it down his shoulders, then trace his collarbones and curve of his abs. Under the fluorescent lights of the kitchen, Loki looks even more pale than usual, the sharp contours of his body illuminated and exposed.

You never grow bored of the sight of him.

Now fittingly bare, Loki’s fingers travel up your thigh and stop at your sex. Similar to you, his gives you a few strokes over your thong before he rids you of it in one fluid motion. He angles himself to you, his tip teasing your entrance as he smirks at your noises. 

He enters you all at once. You bite down on his shoulder, nails raking down his back. You hold tight to Loki as he sinks into you, moving in a slow and almost tantalizing way. There’s sweat on both of your bodies, and despite your exposed state, you feel yourself heat up. 

Loki’s rhythm increases as you adjust to him. His hips move back and forth, and your bodies move in tandem, made for each other. You coo into Loki’s ears, moaning about how good he felt. How breathless he made you, how only he knew how to make you feel this way. No one knew your body like Loki.

The coil inside you finally snaps as Loki hits a pleasure spot deep inside you, and you let out a cry into his shoulder. Loki cums not long after, his body going tense as he rides out the wave of pleasure.

He holds you, rubbing your back as the aftershock rocks through your body. You shake, exhausted and satisfied as you close your eyes for a moment of rest. 

Eventually, Loki sets you back down on the floor. He tugs your dress down over your legs, and tucks stray pieces of hair behind your ears. You watch him wordlessly, allowing him to take of you.

After Loki is dressed himself, he gives you the jacket of his suit to wear.

“Oh.” you look down, remembering he ripped your dress. You slip the jacket on, buttoning it to protect the little modesty you have left.

He takes your hand, leading you to the door and back into the party. Before he does, you stop.

“I’m sorry about our fight.” you say. Loki lets out a chuckle, making you feel silly.

“Oh, sweet girl. After a tryst like this, I can assure you all is forgiven.”

[egcdeath]

checkmate

summary: you’ve always refused to lose, and love was no exception. (gone girl-ish au)

pairing(s): ransom drysdale x dark!reader, a special mystery guest ;) 

word count: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ because of heavy themes! faked death, framing of crimes, manipulation, alluding to sex, alluding to cheating, terrible relationship dynamic, very loose usage of the word crazy/psychotic, implied mention of self harm, brief choking & slapping (in a non sexual way lol), pregnancy trapping (idk if thats the right term), the reader is a very bad human being, overuse of italics  *please let me know if i’m missing any warnings!

author’s note: this is my 2nd submission for @stargazingfangirl18’s 5k soft dark challenge, i decided to make the reader dark >:) but ransom is also not a good person. I used these prompts: “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” & The town golden *girl isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.

this is definitely the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, but blame @literate-lamb for making me write this because when i pitched this to her and said that i’d probably never write it, she enabled me. 

okay that's enough from me. join my taglist if you want :D

“I know women whose entire personas are woven from a benign mediocrity. Their lives are a list of shortcomings: the unappreciative boyfriend, the extra ten pounds, the dismissive boss, the conniving sister, the straying husband. I've always hovered above their stories, nodding in sympathy and thinking how foolish they are, these women, to let these things happen, how undisciplined. And now to be one of them! One of the women with the endless stories that make people nod sympathetically and think: Poor dumb bitch.” Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

Your whole life, you’d considered yourself a competitive person. Constantly overcompensating for one thing or another, whether it was the chronic desire to achieve perfection that had been installed in you since you were a little girl, or your persistent internalized sense of inadequacy. You realized early on that it was much better for you to win than for you to lose, no matter the physical, emotional, or mental cost of the prize of perfection.

For the most part, this mindset worked out for you. You graduated as Valedictorian from your high school, neared the top of your graduating class at Harvard. God knew you earned it, all those tears you shed into overpriced textbooks, all the popping of unprescribed Adderall, and robbing yourself of the parties and social events that the rest of your peers gladly indulged in. 

You were just different, which was why you gained a job nearly immediately after your exit from school, quickly climbing to the top at the Blood Like Wine publishing company after only a few years of being there. 

And one night, at the party celebrating the release of A Thousand Knives when you laid your eyes on Hugh Ransom Drysdale, the grandson of your boss, you knew that you needed to have him. Rich, hot, a bit of an asshole. You deserved to finally complete your image, and that socialite flavored eye candy seemed to fit the part perfectly. Luckily for you, he was desperate. It only took a few tugs on your dress’ V-line, and a number of knowing smirks to find yourself being finger-banged in his family manor’s bathroom.

From there, you wormed your way into his life. Leaving belongings at his place as an excuse to come back, and offering booty calls in the middle of the night. Ransom must’ve been much more desperate than you originally thought, as it really only seemed to take one night of stroking his hair while he vented about his family to make him want to be with you. Men with mommy issues were always so easy. 

Except, he wasn’t that easy. The longer you got to know Ransom, the more fucked up you realized he really was. He had no boundaries at all, became jealous and enraged at the drop of a pin, and occasionally told you things that made the hairs on your arms rise. 

This of course all came to a head after the night of Harlan’s 85th birthday party. When the news broke of his tragic death, you’d immediately known it was the works of your Hugh. If your intuition wasn’t enough, his confession in the shower, where he’d demanded you take off your clothes to display that you were without a bug, certainly was. 

You were completely devastated. The man that you’d invested so much into for years had thrown both his and your reputations down the drain in just a matter of hours. Of course, you felt bad for Harlan too. He was a good guy (when he wasn’t instigating a family fight).

Still, you showed up during the funeral in your best mourning clothes and dawning your biggest crocodile tears. You rubbed Linda’s back while she mourned the loss of her father, and the new truth about her husband. You played dumb when interrogated by some Southern private investigator, even giving Ransom an airtight alibi. You testified on his behalf in court with enough conviction to grant you an Emmy. 

You’d gotten so far, devoted so much energy into him, that you simply refused to lose now. 

To your friends, you’d seemed to lead a near perfect life. Dream job, dreamy boyfriend, dream bank account, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you just didn’t know what. 

It dawned on you while sipping mimosas at the country club, Ransom playing tennis with his friends just a few yards away from you while Danielle showed off her brand new engagement ring, a .59 Carat Asscher Diamond, that if you heard her speak of again, would probably make you lose your shit.

You zoned out as she droned on and on about the shape, and how Matt proposed to her in their own private room in one of the most exclusive Parisian restaurants, instead focusing on how you could find yourself in the same position as that airhead next to you. In all honesty, you couldn’t stand the idea that someone was doing better than you, let alone someone in your own social circle. Dani got all the bragging rights of being engaged to the heir of some tech giant, being the first in your friend group to get eloped, and worst of all, Matt wasn’t even making her sign a prenup. 

You blankly watched Ransom from afar, taking occasional sips from your sweet drink, while you thought of how you deserved all of that and more, and you were going to get it one way or another. 

——

It didn’t take much to come up with something, your first and most obvious plan being to simply ask Ransom when he was going to propose to you. Of course, this wasn’t the first time you’d tried to approach him about this subject, you just wondered if maybe this time things would be different.

Panting heavily after a rather rough night in bed, you rolled off of your boyfriend’s chest and gave him a messy, yet sincere kiss. You knew your man well, and if there was any time to pop the question, it was in his post-nut haze.

“Baby,” you said breathily, “I wanna ask you something.”

“Shoot,” he responded casually, glancing over at you. 

“When’re you gonna propose to me?” you hummed.

Ransom groaned and shook his head, rolling his eyes, “this is about Matt and Dani, huh?” he tutted, then extended a hand out to your warm cheeks so he could gently caress one with his thumb. “Thought we agreed marriage is just a piece of paper and it’s stupid.”

You huffed in response.

Of fucking course.

“I never said that,” you muttered, setting a hand on his broad chest. “Besides, it’ll be good if you get pissed and decide to like, kill your dad or something. Y’know, spouses don’t have to testify against each other in court.”

Ransom chuckled as if this whole thing was funny, like your feelings were some kind of sick joke to him. “You know my lawyers, babe. They could prove that bees don’t make honey. That bears don’t shit in the forest. I appreciate your attempt, though. This has been some really nice pillow talk.” 

“Whatever,” you muttered, pinching his nipple in retaliation before turning your back to him and yanking the blanket onto your side. 

You weren’t sure why you were so surprised that he was being stubborn, most of the time you felt like you were pulling teeth from the man. But that’s why you had a backup plan! You always had a backup plan. That’s what separated you from your boyfriend. Where Ransom was extemporized and impulsive, you were calculating and prudent. 

Although you devised your plan that very afternoon while watching your partner backhand small green balls, you were going to need some time to get everything in order, to prove Murphy and his stupid law wrong in making sure that everything that could go wrong wouldn’t. 

After all, love was a game. And you sure as hell weren’t losing to Hugh Drysdale. 

——

You sacrificed too much to have your plans ruined by some trust fund baby with impulsivity issues. You deserved your dream marriage, the stability you wished you had as a child. You wanted the white picket fence, and everything that came along with it. Your desire to be the best, to be perfect was what drove you to poke holes in every condom in the box, what led you to draw liters of your own blood in hopes of staging a fake crime scene, to buy a cheap getaway car and burner phone off of Craigslist, and reach out to a high school boyfriend who you knew was in a position as desperate as you. 

You planted seeds of doubt in your friends throughout the following weeks, feeding them lies about Ransom’s behavior, how you were afraid of telling him that you did in fact see two faint red lines on that damn plastic stick– only half of the statement truly being false–, telling them that he was behaving erratically lately.

It all was going without a hitch. Ransom didn’t seem to notice anything was off, despite your frequent visits to the bathroom and newfound affinity for true crime documentaries. 

You almost felt guilty, knowing the world of pain you were about to throw the man into. Granted, he deserved the pain. You were in a relationship with a genuinely terrible person, and that person had made a conscious effort not to commit to you. You tried to make this easy for him, give him a chance to say a few words to you and slide a ring on your finger, but no, he always seemed to take the hard route.

You slept like a baby the night before you were setting your plan in action. You made sure to uphold the facade of everything being fine, making Ransom a nice breakfast before sending him halfway across town to the hardware store with an oddly incriminating list.

Once he was out of the house, you hurried off to the fridge in the garage where you’d been keeping a small stash of your own blood. It wasn’t pretty, but it had to be done. You poured the blood throughout the kitchen, splattering bits of it on the counters and cupboards. You poorly cleaned the mess, just as he would.

You put your next move in motion, falsifying a home invasion. You tossed over a table and some chairs, throwing books and photos onto the floor, but left some aspects slightly untouched, like an upright picture frame to give yet another hint that things were not exactly what they appeared. 

You left a tiny blue post-it note on the nightstand of Ransom’s side of the bed, a quick and simple doodle of a ring along with the first initial of your name inked onto the tiny piece of paper. 

With that, you were off. Technically missing, soon-to-be presumed dead.

----

 The days following your disappearance had gone even better than you’d initially planned. Local news coverage had been all over you, search and rescue groups were assiduously looking for you, your parents had opened a tip line, and begged for you to get home safe on news segments. But the best part of it all was that Ransom had been briefly found himself in police custody, only to be released shortly thereafter. His past of an accused murder quickly made your disappearance even more of a national story, and you watched the whole thing unravel from the safety and comfort of your high school boyfriend, Andy Barber’s Newton home. 

Of course, you fed him the same lies you’d given to your friends, and seeing the rather lonely position he was in, he gladly let you stay with him. You were absolutely having a hay-day with it all, dedicating hours of your day to watching Ransom slowly unravel. Maybe it was a bit sadistic of you to enjoy torturing your partner so much, but he needed to learn his lesson. You deserved better. You needed Ransom to rise up to your level, allowing you to finally complete your image. To let you two appear to be the perfect couple. Really, this was all on him.

Andy, for the most part, had been a good host. He was gone for the majority of the day, dedicating himself to his work while you lounged around on his dangerously cozy couch. Around two weeks into your stay, you were sharing a box of pizza in the living room with your old lover when something interesting on the television caught your eye.

Ransom, broadcasted on CBS, being interviewed on your disappearance. 

You watched with wide eyes as Ransom begged for your return on national television. It was one thing seeing your mother plead for you to come back, the same woman who had installed such toxic behavior in you sob for your return, but Ransom. You’d never loved him more than in that moment.

“Hugh, if you could tell Y/N one thing, what would it be?” the interviewer asked.

Ransom turned, looking straight at the camera, directly into your soul, “Y/N, I love you so much. More than you’ll ever know. I need you to come back safely, to see you, to hold you again. I’d give anything in the world for that right now,” he looked down, a tear falling down his cheek. “I can’t live without you in my life, I-”

His sentence was cut off by Andy grabbing the remote, and turning off the TV. You turned your head and frowned deeply at him.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked with a bit of a pout.

“I just couldn’t stand listening to him talk about you like he hasn’t treated you like shit for the past few years. C’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

Your blood boiled. Andy was once a means to an end, but now he was interfering. He was clearly much too selfish to see that you and Ransom were quite obviously soulmates. A match made in hell. 

You followed him to bed regardless, curling up on what had been your side of the bed for the past few days, and staring at the wall until Andy’s breaths moved from a soft and rhythmic pattern to loud snores. God, those snores were obnoxious. 

You slipped out of bed and to his dresser, grabbing two soft ties from the drawer, and daintily tying his wrists to each side of the bedpost.

“What‘re you doing?” he mumbled, instinctively yanking both of his wrists as he awoke.

“I’m going back home,” you whispered.

“You can’t be serious,” Andy huffed, tugging on the restraint attached to the headboard.

You shook your head, “I am.”

“I should’ve known. Why would you do something like this? Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in with the law?”

“Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in when the world finds out that you kidnapped me?” you retorted.

This threat seemed to wake him up right away, “what about this was kidnapping? I gave you a nice home, fed you, I didn’t even make a pass at you. I didn’t do shit to you,” he hissed. “You think I can’t prove that? I’m a lawyer, for god's sake!”

You nearly laughed, “Okay, Andy,” you paused for a moment, “As a lawyer, who do you think everyone’ll believe? Someone who the world was on a wild goose chase for in the last two weeks? Or the man with a family history of violence? Must I remind you that your father and your son have killed people?”

Andy shook his head, face pinched in sorrow at the mention of his deceased son, clearly a low blow. “You’re insane,” he muttered.

“Swear to god that you won’t tell a soul what happened here,” you leaned over him, getting right in his face. “Or I promise, Andrew Barber, I will ruin you. You’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars, or disbarred, or whatever the hell I decide to do with you. So keep your goddamn lips shut.” 

You pulled away and he solemnly nodded, not bothering to put up a fight. You loosened the fabric around his left wrist and walked out of the room. You picked up the keys to Andy’s Audi on your way out, checking the time as you adjusted the driver's seat. 

9:45 PM. Fatherhood really changed the man.

You pushed that thought aside and began your drive home, which turned out to be a surprisingly short trip. When you pulled up in front of your home, you were met with a slew of reporters outside of the house, along with a police car that seemed to be permanently camped there.

As you slowly got out of the car, a gasp, followed by a loud silence fell across the crowd. You limped for dramatic effect up the driveway as cameras followed you, and glanced back at them pathetically. From your peripheral view, you noticed the officers get out of their vehicle.

You finally got to your door, ringing the doorbell and waiting. You blinked harshly a few times, conjuring up the tears you needed to really make a spectacle of the event. After a few minutes, Ransom opened the door, eyes widening as he looked at you. He stepped out, and you wrapped him in as big of a hug as you could manage, genuinely missing his embrace. It was possible that you even let out a few real tears in the moment.

Your emotional embrace was interrupted by the man you recognized as Lieutenant Elliott, the same officer who’d been assigned to Harlan’s case. 

“Ma’am,” he began, only to be shut down by you. 

“Please, just let me be with my boyfriend,” you pleaded, crocodile tears streaming down your face as you spoke with the officer. You still needed time to get your story straight.

“Just give us the night, Lieutenant. We’ll come in first thing tomorrow morning,” Ransom added, furrowing his brows at the officer that he’d come into contact with far too many times. 

He looked to his partner, who shrugged, then to you, “enjoy your night.”

Cameras flashed around you as civilians, journalists, and newscasters alike attempted to catch your attention. You grabbed Ransom’s hand and dramatically pulled him inside, insincerely attempting to hide your face by ducking and covering half of your face with your arm. 

As soon as you were in the privacy of your own home, Ransom threw you against a wall. 

“Why. The fuck. Would you pull a stunt like that,” he hissed through gritted teeth, eyes wild, and a hand around your throat. 

You whimpered as he tightened his grip, rage clearly flowing through his system uncontrollably.

“Do you know what you did to me? You almost had me thrown in fucking jail. Do you understand that?”

You nodded weakly, “Ran,” you whispered, “the baby,” you glanced down at your stomach.

He paused, dropping his grip on your neck and staring at you in awe, “no…” 

You nodded again. 

“How…? You told me you were on the pill… You- you made me use protection…”

“Surprise?” you said weakly. 

“You’re a psychotic bitch.”

“I’m your psychotic bitch. And no child of mine will be born out of wedlock,” you taunted. 

“That’s what this is about?” Ransom laughed manically. “You did this all because I won’t fucking marry you?”

You didn’t even have to respond.

“I should send you to the loony bin right fucking now.”

“What happened to all those things you said to me on TV?”

“You’re fucking delusional. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. And you will. I’ve had to put up with you and your stupid little antics for way too long. How do you think I felt when you killed your own grandfather?”

Ransom scoffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “you are so fucked up.”

“I’m the fucked up one? You killed your own blood in cold blood! You’re unhinged!” 

“You faked your own death for attention, and got pregnant while doing it! Is that baby even mine?”

“The fuck are you trying to say, Hugh?”

“I asked if it’s even mine.”

“Really. You’re accusing me of cheating on you. That’s rich considering Mia, Layla, and whoever the fuck else. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous? You couldn’t have a normal adult conversation with me!”

“Are you kidding me? I asked you time after time to marry me and it was always some bullshit excuse!” you wagged a finger in his face as you spoke. “Oh, commitment scares me, oh, marriage is just a piece of paper, oh-“ you mocked his voice in a deeper tone before you were cut off by the sting of his hand against your cheek.

“Can you shut the hell up?” he growled at you as you held your own cheek, before you reached out and slapped him back, “I can’t believe that I’m stuck with such a deranged bitch for the rest of my life.”

“Maybe work on your vows a little, dear. I don’t think that those words are as charming to me as they’d be to the rest of our family and friends.”

“You can’t be serious,” he groaned.

“But I am,” you hummed, rubbing your cheek softly once again. “Look at how fast your life fell apart without me here. How quickly the public turned on you. Imagine how upset they’d be if you left me. I love you, Ran. I really do. You and I are perfect for each other, can’t you see that now?”

Ransom took a step away from you, pacing slowly in front of you. He ran a stressed hand through his hair, and took a long and drawn out breath, clearly at a loss for words.

“So when should we have the wedding? I’ve always wanted a Spring wedding, and I know it’s a little short notice, but I don’t want to be showing too much in my wedding dress,” you grabbed Ransom’s bicep gently, as if you were just having a regular old day with him, as if you hadn’t been choked and slapped moments ago. “But we can make it work. We always make it work, right?”

Your now fiancé stared vacantly at the wall ahead of him, giving you a slow, empty nod of agreement. 

“It’s settled then,” you smirked. “I’ll start looking at venues. You find me a nice ring, okay Honey? One that puts all those other bitches’ rings to shame,” you sighed pleasantly to yourself, “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before hurrying up the stairs and into your bedroom. You heard a distant shriek of  “fuck,” from Ransom, but you truly could not care less. 

You hopped into bed, grabbing your laptop from its charger and promptly opening it. You couldn’t help but to smile at your own reflection on the empty black screen. This wasn’t how you imagined your engagement, but you did the impossible. You tied yourself down to Hugh Ransom Drysdale, he went down kicking in screaming, and you were likely in for a lifetime of cheating and resentment, but you did it nonetheless. 

You finally won.  

[pretoriafics]

Therapy Sessions with the Devil - Part II

You guys requested me about this one so much! I'm glad all of you liked part one. Now, prepare yourself for your worst nightmare being Homelander's therapist.

Word count: 1.683 Contain: Therapist!Reader x Homelander Warnings: Mental disorders, sexual harassment, stalking and regurgitation. +16 only Versão em português aqui PART 1 THE BOYS MASTERLIST

If hell really exists, for you, it sure would be Friday mornings. Of course, that was a very contradictory thought for most people. Friday was usually associated with a fun day where, after work, you could go out with your friends in the evening and return home whenever you wanted. That was the advantage of Fridays: The fact that you know you don't have to wake up early the next day to go to work. Knowing that the week was coming to an end was like a cool breeze, as well as knowing that the next day would be pure rest. That didn't exactly apply to you. Okay, it was great to know that you wouldn't have to work the other day. That was the only good point on Fridays for you because on that specific day of the week you have Homelander as a patient. Your attempt to get rid of him on leaving Vought had been successfully thwarted because you were apparently a good professional. And you've never hated yourself so much for being good at what you did as a job. It turns out that, lately, things had started to get a little strange in the consultations with him. Homelander always mentioned a girl, whom he said he was starting to see differently. He filled her with compliments when he spoke of her, always reinforcing how much he loved the color of her eyes, her calm voice, and the way her hair moved with her graceful walk. Of course, according to him, if she were a Supe she would be perfect. But that's okay because he said he really accepted her "with that imperfection". You started to suspect that he was talking about you but avoided thinking about it. It not only made you sick with dread, but it completely perturbs you. A Homelander in love with you would be a great way to make it even worse than it was going. That morning on a Friday the 13th, when you arrived at the office, you saw that on your table was a sumptuous bouquet with the most beautiful reddish roses you had seen. Despite the beauty of those flowers, you took that as confirmation of your worst nightmare. Terrified, you let your bag hit the floor and ran to the bathroom. There, you knelt in front of the toilet and put all your breakfast out. Tears were wetting your face, your hands were shaking in pure fear. And then, you felt a hand touch your shoulder. “Yes, put everything out. Everything will be fine, it will be over… ” It was him. Homelander's voice flooded your ears, and you had to take a deep breath to try to take some control over yourself. “Okay, I'm already better. It must have been something I ate for breakfast. Can you excuse me and wait for me on the couch, please? ” He nodded, his blue eyes filled with concern. "Sure." As soon as he left, you closed the door. You took the toothbrush and the paste you kept there, brushed your teeth, and wiped away your tears. Then, you left the bathroom ready to get it over with. So, you sat in your chair while Homelander directed his worried blue eyes to you. You have started the query. "Well, let's get started then." “Don't feel pressured to make our session today. We can do it tomorrow, you are not feeling well. ” You forced a slight smile. “I'm better, thanks. And I don't work on weekends. ” Not least because you weren't willing to let Homelander ruin your Saturday. "I bought these flowers for you when I was coming here." He got up from the couch and took the bouquet from the table, handing it to you with a tender look. Homelander was beaming and even looked so anxious as a teenager in front of their crush. You, however, froze. You clenched your jaw and forced another smile, holding the flowers. “I appreciate it, John. I'm flattered, but I need you to know that we need to keep our relationship strictly professional and impersonal. I can have my therapist register canceled with this type of relationship with a patient because it is unethical, and I don't want to end up harming myself. ” Those words made you realize how brave you were. You had fought an internal battle to say that. "But I will put the flowers in a vase after the consultation." His expression became austere and you froze with it. Homelander nodded and lay down on the couch while you put the flowers back on your table. Fortunately, at that meeting, he hadn't mentioned you or anything you might suspect was about you. The subjects of that consultation were merely concerned with the Seven, about their suspicions about Starlight, and how angry he was with the team. You were with your head on the clouds. You couldn't stop thinking about what you would do now that your worst nightmare had become real. You were so disturbed, you didn't even see that appointment go by. It seemed to have passed in the blink of an eye, unlike the others that seemed to be an eternity. And then you were finally able to rest. Being Homelander's therapist also brought other burdens: No therapist could maintain consultations with you, because it was too heavy for anyone to hear you talk about Homelander. Until then, you hadn't been able to find anyone who could help you support the weight you carried on your shoulders. You even thought of writing everything you felt in a diary as a way to try to get out and put out what you felt. However, the fear that Homelander might read outweighed everything. That was another point: You felt, at times, that you were being followed and observed. The curtains in your house always remained closed, although you knew that if Homelander was really stalking you, curtains would not help. That was enough for you to start developing a little paranoia. But that Saturday had been unlike anything. As usual, you woke up with the feeling of being watched. However, it looked different that time. It was almost as if you were feeling that Homelander was also on the sumptuous penthouse where you lived. Knowing that hiding in any room in the house could be worse, you simply chose to go out with a friend. Your circle of friends didn't recognize you anymore, and they even seemed to be concerned about you. While you and your friend were walking through Central Park, while she was telling some random gossip from someone in your social circle, you couldn't stop looking around. Homelander was there, somewhere, watching you. You were quite sure of that! Night soon came, and that feeling of being watched did not go away. You had the impression that Homelander, when he came to watch you, never stayed that long. His maximum was three hours. But on that Saturday, he seemed to be on your heels all day. You chose to wear your worst pajamas that night, the one that best hid your body, since you never had the feeling of being watched at that time. You were certain that you would not be able to sleep, and you could already feel that your emotions were extremely drained. Trying to act as naturally as you could, you lay down in your King Size bed. You covered yourself with the blankets and turned off the lights. You were lying in a sideways so that you could see the door that went into your corridor. It was like you were waiting to hear Homelander's footsteps there. But then you saw, through the reflection of the mirror, the door to your closet - the only door you were facing away from. You saw the reason for all your dread. The mirror reflected the image of a Homelander with slightly red eyes, watching you through the crack in the door. His uniform pants were slumped under his feet, and despite the low light, you could see what he was doing - explained mainly by the movement of one of his arms. His eyes were on you as he touched himself, and that seemed to be the main reason he didn't notice that you saw him. Your heart sped up, and you had to contain a weeping of fear and the nausea you felt when you noticed that grotesque scene. Tears flooded your face so that your vision was completely blurred, and panic made your entire body stop functioning. Homelander was completely obsessed with you, and that would bring you to complete ruin. You didn't sleep the rest of the night - even when you noticed that Homelander was no longer in the apartment. Still, on Sunday morning, you only managed to get out of bed at seven. You had been crying all night, completely stunned by the surreal situation that had happened. Apathetic, there were no more tears, no energy to cry or be afraid. You were just an empty shell, an inanimate object - the Homelander's favorite one. So you walked slowly to the closet to change clothes. And there was proof that what had happened last night was real. It was everywhere. The pearly liquid present on the door, on the floor, and at some points on the wall proved that he had not touched himself just once that night. You staggered backward, feeling that sudden wave of nausea again. That scene was enough for you to stride to the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet while your body tried to expel something through your mouth, without success. Suddenly, you felt your heart racing. Panic enveloped you, and you leaned against the bathroom wall, your breathing as fast as your heart. Sweeping heat shot through your body, and you started to feel sweaty. The air seemed to start to drain from your lungs and you thought you were about to die. And if your time to die had indeed come, fine. Homelander would no longer torment you anymore.

[throughtheinterstices]

massive and small stars

❝ you were a massive star destined to burn for a few hundred thousand years, culminating in an inevitable explosion. kuroo tetsuro was the sun, a small star, bound to give light for several billion years. the difference between the two of you makes you ask him how he manages to keep his light. ❞

pairing. kuroo tetsuro x fem!reader

genre. college au where you and kuroo are apartment neighbors, implied comfort 

word count. 1.7k words

warnings. themes of burnout due to the pandemic

a/n. reblogs are very much appreciated. i’d be happy to hear your thoughts too. 

HAIKYUU MASTERLIST • AO3

You are by no means an astronomer. You are studying to become a physician. You are a hundred and ten percent certain of this fact. But as you lie limp atop your unmade bed, your mind can’t help but ponder on stars, how they are made, and how they die.

The lifetime of stars depends on their size. Massive stars exhaust their energy much faster and are only able to last for a few hundred millennia. Small stars, on the other hand, burn slowly, allowing them to exist for several billion years. 

You have always been told that you were destined to be a star, to burn brighter above everyone else. You are fated for brilliance, they said. All your life, you are convinced by their words.

Entering college, you believe it is your time to shine. Your days in the dust are long gone. All the ashes and gas are finally going to pool together as the enormous celestial body everybody expected you to be. You are finally away from the drama of high school. You’re supposed to be joining organizations, getting good grades, making lots of friends, and living.

You were supposed to be doing all of that. You were finally safely moved into your one-bedroom apartment near a prestigious university in Tokyo, aching for all of it.

Then the pandemic hit. The club fairs turned into online zoom meetings. The good grades turned into just-above-the-passing-rate marks. Those friends turned into monotonous group chats about academic requirements. Living turned into surviving.

You are destined to be a star, they said. Indeed, you feel like a massive star. You expected too much, gathered too many particles from the universe, that you ended up an immense ball of burning gas about to explode in the near future. You are so close to wearing yourself out. You try everything to avoid it.

You turn up the volume of your favorite songs because maybe it will drown the negative voices in your head.

You bathe yourself in sunlight because maybe it will overpower the darkness slowly wrapping itself around you.

You soak yourself under the shower for hours because maybe it will wash away the dread and anxiety.

You laugh humorlessly.

As if.

As much as you were predetermined for greatness, you are designed for destruction as well.

You look at the time. 5:11 PM.

There’s still time before he comes. You can still take a nap. You’ve been a light sleeper for the past few months anyway. You’ll hear him knock.

The knock comes two hours later, 7:00 PM sharp.

“Good evening,” Kuroo Tetsuro says.

You mimic his greeting weakly.

Kuroo Tetsuro is your university apartment neighbor. You became friends a month into the pandemic, when he came to your rescue after you almost burned down your apartment (you left the stove on while you were in the shower). Since then, the two of you had formed an unusual partnership. He was in-charge of half of the groceries and cooking the main course. You were in-charge of the other half of the groceries and preparing dessert. You took turns with the dishes.

You’re grateful for his companionship. Somehow, being able to interact with another person face-to-face lessens the gravity of the whole situation.

Today, the weight is just a tad bit heavier for you. You barely have the energy to contribute to the dinner table conversation. You just nod along and give a few replies here and there.

After catching his fingers lingering on his phone and after noticing his sensitivity toward notification sounds, you sense that the weight is heavier for him too.

“Expecting a call?” you ask, getting a bite of tonkatsu.

“Hoping for one,” Kuroo answers, picking at his own food.

“She cut the call short again?” Whether it was his mother or his sister, you don’t bother asking. It was always between the two of them anyway.

“Didn’t even bother answering,” he says. That explains it.

You offer him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry.”

He scoffs. “’S not your fault.”

You know that. Still, you wanted to help him.

There was only one thing you can think of at the moment.

“Dessert?” you offer.

His face lights up a bit. “Yes please.”

You give him a small smile and stand up to reach for the newly-bought mochi.

 The days after, you still feel the looming sense of your inevitable combustion. Exams were still difficult. Readings were still extensive. Social interactions were still monotonously online. Club participation was still nonexistent.

 You turn the volume of your music a little higher. You stay under the sun a little longer. You soak under the shower head a few minutes more.

Yet, you still end up on your bed, drained. Nothing’s changed.

Another thing that hasn’t changed is him.

Seven o’clock sharp, he’s there, knocking on your door (tap, tap-tap-tap, tap-tap—a unique pattern he uses every time). He still cooks you dinner. He still talks to you about his day. You never see the light leave his eyes.

Kuroo Tetsuro was a star by his own right. He was the sun, bright and warm. You are always sure of his presence. You sense the remnants of his radiance the night before in the early morning just as you wake up. You hear the warmth in his boisterous laughter through the thin walls of your apartment. You feel his blazing passion for the sport that he loves when the sound of rubber on skin hits your ears (or sometimes it’s the sound of things getting broken).

Kuroo was the sun, a small star. Small stars don’t go as loudly as massive stars do, and they stay around for much longer. But they still cease to burn once they exhaust their fuel.

You wonder, sometimes, how Kuroo manages to keep his light burning.

There are days that the darkness creeps into his being. You’ve seen it. On days when the knock on your door isn’t as loud and lively, when his hands aren’t as nimble in slicing onions, when his laugh doesn’t ring the right way. And you know that the sun, like massive stars, like all stars, will collapse.

But he doesn’t.

He still calls his mother and sister relentlessly, trying to rekindle what was once there. Despite the social barriers that the pandemic has built, you can hear him still laughing loudly with his friends on video calls. Despite the halt in sports activities, he keeps his love for volleyball burning.

It makes you rethink whether he is a star in the first place. Something as brilliant as he is, who manages to burn bright despite everything, is something out of this world.

 You ask him one day.

On this particular day, he shows you a meme, “Are medical students who graduated online called google docs?”

You give a skeptical look at the idiot who was hysterically cackling himself to death.

“Why do you laugh at this as if it’s going to solve all of your problems?” you ask him.

The premise is anything but serious. Yet, you feel like he knows what you’re talking about.

Kuroo tries to regain some composure.

“It won’t,” he says, moving a hand across his all-time bedhead. “But hey, at least even with all my problems, I was able to laugh, right?”

 Huh.

You stare at him, as if seeing the sun for the first time in a long while.

The next day is still loaded with tests and homework. You still feel dumb. You still have no friends and no clubs. You still turn up the music. You still linger under the sunlight a little while longer. Your time in the shower is still a bit lengthier.

This time, you allow these things to make you smile.

Six fifty-nine—you are by the door, waiting.

Tap, tap—

You open the door before he finishes knocking.

“Good evening,” you greet first.

“Good evening,” he says, a bit taken back.

You hum your favorite song as he cooks sanma shio yaki (which you know is his favorite) and talks about his day.

Later, when you are preparing dessert, he asks, “Did anything good happen today?”

You think about it. “Hmm… Nothing in particular. Why?”

“I just… haven’t seen that smile in a while.”

Your fingers stop cutting midway across the strawberry shortcake you bought two hours before.

“Hmm?” You glance at him in your periphery.

“Yeah. It looks pretty.” 

You take a sharp breath in.

You sense him take in his words as well.

You slowly turn your head back. As you expect, Kuroo Tetsurou has his hands scratching the back of his neck, trying to avoid your gaze.

Well, I’m not going to be the uncomfortable one here.

You allow yourself to tease him. “I do look pretty, don’t I?”

He glares at you. “As if!” But you see his ears flush pink.

You return to the strawberry shortcake that you were cutting.

You feel the edges of your lips inching their way closer to your eyes.

It’s been a while since you felt this way—this light. At the back of your mind, there were still essays to write, exams to study for, professors to impress, parents to make proud, and yourself to fix. The problems will never disappear.

And it’s not as if louder music, stronger sunlight, more bath water, and cornier jokes of the guy behind you could solve all of them.

But maybe if they can make you smile despite all the problems, then maybe… maybe you’re going to be okay.

Whether you are a massive star or whether Kuroo Tetsuro was the sun, you don’t know for sure.

You are by no means an astronomer. You are studying to become a physician. Instead of concerning yourself with celestial bodies, you should be concerning yourself with the human body.

From all the things that you were taught in medical school, this is something you know by heart: humans are made of the same elements as the stars are.

They are the same, yet they are different. Stars burn bright. And borrowing Guy Consolmagno’s words, they will end “either in a bang or in a whimper.”

Humans are different. They can burn unyieldingly without ceasing. Kuroo Tetsuro has proven that to you.

At present, that is all the reassurance that you need.

HAIKYUU MASTERLIST • AO3 LINK

[monocaelia]

hi didi!

how are u doing? i was just thinking of u and wanted to say hi!! :D hope you’ve been happy and healthy 🤍 i have a fun little question to ask!~

if any of the genshin characters we know of today were real, who do you think you would get along with the most and why? xoxo

jade !! hello!!!

eheh, i’ve been okay! finals are over and im winding down after such a busy semester before i start writing again. playing rune factory 5/projsekai and watching miraculous ladybug [guilty pleasure LOL] <: i hope you’ve been doing well as well! <3

hmm, i think i would get along best with itto or childe. now. hear me out HAHA

itto because he’s so endearing and dumb. it would be such a blast to be around him and kind of be his voice of reason even though it rarely works on him. honestly, i find his presence in game to be so fun to be around. i had so much fun with his little event in the irodori festival and his story quest was really entertaining as well. i don’t think any moment with him will be a dull one regardless of what mood you’re in. he would be the type of friend to make you laugh in any situation and he just looks like he gives the best hugs TT

i’m an introvert and my closest friend irl is an extrovert PLUS a heavy childe kinnie so i think childe and i would be pretty good friends. despite being. really bloodthirsty, he’s really kind and hates lying/breaking promises, and i share that sentiment too. plus he’s really attentive and would probably read my mind regarding most things and i appreciate that a lot since voicing my feelings or opinions is something i refrain from doing. if he were my friend irl, he would push me to do a lot of things that i love to do and would always be there to support me and i absolutely would love that. we also share a lot of common morals?? as in we both hold our family close to our hearts and promises are a must. loyalty and not lying to the ones we love are important to both of us and i think we can bond over that <:]

and he’s good with kids and i have. a lot of nephews and nieces that he would love to play with when they drain me of my social battery so, HAHA.

pov childe and my nephews wrestling while i’m refereeing

plus, both itto and childe would either keep the conversation going for the both of us when my social battery runs out or they would let me sit there and enjoy their company while they do god knows what without either option getting awkward <:]

what about you!! please tell me who you’d get along with too!!

[primergon]

Hello! I’m Vic and I was wondering about a possible matchup!

I’m 24, afab non-binary, ENFP, 5’11, and straight (I think lmao)

Personality wise, I’d definitely describe myself as very chaotic and all over the place-don’t give me any logistic-heavy jobs, or we’ll both have a bad time. I’m an artist and I take great pleasure in telling stories and creating, especially if what I make can brighten someone’s day.

I value kindness very highly and I’m fiercely protective of the people I love, sometimes at the cost of my well being (but I’m working on that) I’ve been told that I have a very strong moral compass, but that can turn into black and white thinking at times. I’m definitely a work in progress as a person, but that’s okay! I’m definitely a very emotional person, and sometimes my feelings control me more than I control them.

Other than art, I love many topics, such as zoology, natural history, science communication, and translation with a dash of linguistics sprinkled in. I love spending time with both animals and the humans I love, but I’m not opposed to a quiet evening in. I’d generally describe myself as an ambivert. I really value active listeners and people who return the energy I give to them. I love when the person I’m talking to and I can bounce ideas off of each other. Also, I’m very physically affectionate, give me a chance and I WILL smother you with hugs. I hope this is enough to go off of!! Thank you!

Hello Vic! I hope you're well :) Thanks for asking and sorry for the wait ! Sadly I didn't finish cyberverse and so I'm not well acquainted with their characters. So I hope you don't mind if I give you two IDW matchups to make up for it <3 I think I'll match you up with Prowl and Rung from IDW / MTMTE!

PROWL IDW

01| Opposites attract is a questionable phrase. That was until Prowl met you. There was this natural curiosity that drew him to you, no matter how much he tries to deny it. Finally, Prowl gave in and realised that you both complete one another. All this time Prowl's been looking for a sense of balance, and he found it in the way you smiled at him.

02| Prowl is rational to the point of what most would call cruel. He's overly critical of everything and this thinking pattern can sometimes frustrate him. You were like a way out of a very dark room, and even if he doesn't say it often, he appreciates your creative and empathic way of thinking. While his focus is singular: intense and deep, yours is broad: extending to numerous possibilities that allow him to better achieve his goals. He thinks highly of you, knowing that even if he won't say it out loud, he has a lot to learn from you.

03| One of the things that he loves about you is your kindness. The idea that your generosity extends to someone like him, warms his spark. He knows he's difficult. In the early stages of your relationship, Prowl struggled to understand what’s going on and how to behave. Yet you made him want to try, and Primus knows he did. Prowl may be subtle about his affections, but you know he cares. From the way, you'd always wake up from your accidental nap by your desk with a blanket around you to the way Prowl always insists on taking you everywhere in his cab.

04| While you help Prowl be kinder to those around him, he helps you learn how to be kinder to yourself. He knows your generosity can sometimes drain you, especially when you're still learning how to put yourself first. If you don't have the strength to say no, Prowl is always more than happy and ready to say it for you. One time you were overwhelmed by the crowd trying to talk with you at Maccadams. It's late and your social battery was running low. You desperately needed a way out of Blurr's ecstatic chatter. Prowl had immediately whisked you away and drove you home, not before scolding the others for bothering his partner. It was endearing, even if everyone showed up at your bar the next day to apologize.

05| Arguments would sometimes arise between you and Prowl and whenever it does, it's usually because you don't agree to his methods. Your heart knows it's not right, yet nearly everything Prowl does is morally questionable. It takes time to find a common ground, especially between two people who are respectively sentimental and detached. Yet you always do. Always. It's because as arrogant and hard-headed Prowl is, he's also versatile and persevering. He doesn't care if it'll take you days or even weeks to find a win-win solution. For the first time in a long time, Prowl is making room for another person in his life. These days it's never about what he wants, it's rather about what you both want. As difficult as it can get, he has never felt happier.

06| Prowl is very dense when it comes to physical affection. One time you hold your hand out to him and he placed a data pad on top of it. He's not big on public displays of affection, Primus knows the moment Prowl hugs you at work is the day Unicron decides to wake up from his millennia-old nap. Yet in private, your affection is infectious enough to make him almost clingy. He would spoon you while you sleep or even hold your hand when he's having his morning Energon. You never question him about it knowing he'll deny even liking it, but it's nice to see someone who flips tables for a living be this gentle with you.

IDW RUNG

01| The first person to truly welcome you aboard the Lost Light was Rung. In the beginning, he was hesitant to let your relationship blossom into anything other than professional. Yet he can't deny his attraction. Lately, he loves watching you throw your head back to laugh at one of Swerve's jokes, and he finds himself wondering how your hands would feel against his. For the first time in a while, Rung wants to be a little selfish. Surely, it won't hurt to ask you out for dinner in his quarters. Looking back, he thinks it's one of the best decisions he's ever made.

02| He was moved by the fierce love you had for your friends. Rung fell in love with your courage in defending those you care about( you were ready to fight Sunder head-on for him.) While your kindness was admirable, he reminds you to take care of yourself better. He helps you put yourself first. " You won't be any good to anyone hurt my dear."

03| Rung is sensitive, thoughtful, and idealistic, and prefers relationships that help him grow and develop. He seeks deep and meaningful connections and strives to understand what drives the people he cares about and help them be their best selves. Even if it takes a little longer for Rung to warm up and let someone in, he is very focused on building that emotional connection with you. While he helps you keep your emotions in check you gave him an outlet to express his.

04| Your relationship has great potential for a close and caring connection. You and Rung share many commonalities in how you think and approach life. You both have a compassionate and idealistic nature, and even if you disagree on some things, you'll likely feel that when it comes to the important stuff, you're on the same page. It makes conversations interesting and never boring, and it keeps arguments to a minimum. When it comes to Rung as a partner, there's always a solution to everything.

05 | Rung respects your personal space and understands that you need time for yourself. Often he'll let you into his office so you can lounge on his couch while he assembles his latest model of ships, the silence was more than comforting for the two of you. He'd listen fondly to your work and engage in conversations, taking genuine in your story. Rung finds it endearing when you ramble on about science and communication, jumping from one topic to one another, your excitement is enough to make him fall for you all over again.

06 | Affection is something Rung desperately needs. Often people only come to him because they need something. He was a giver who never asks for anything in return, and sometimes, it gets lonely. Therefore he appreciates how expressive you are with your love. He gets flustered from all the kisses and hugs you give him, and he feels giddy like a young mech whenever you go to hold his hand in public. ( Whirl would always joke about " no pre-marital hand-holding " which would fluster him even more. ) Rung's faceplates would always heat up, his bashful expression enough to make you want to smother him even more. He retaliates by opening his glasses to reveal his optics, it's safe to say that you were always stunned silent at their beauty.

I hope you enjoyed this Vic ! xx

[electrictoes]

People Like Sunlight

For @dailysvu’s Sonny Carisi Appreciation Week

Day 7: Secrets (AKA another excuse for a “how the squad find out” fic)

Read on AO3

The Saturday morning trip to the zoo is long belated - Noah and Jesse have been asking to go for months but with one thing and another - Elliot Stabler crashing back into Liv’s life, Amanda’s father stumbling back into hers - they’re only now finding a day when they are both free from both professional and social obligations.

They meet at the entrance to the zoo, Noah calling out when he sees them approaching. Amanda’s got Jesse’s hand held tight in hers to keep her close by; Sonny has Billie on his shoulders already, and Amanda’s sure he’s going to regret telling Amanda not to bother with the stroller, that he’d carry Billie when she got tired, but Billie’s having the time of her life, shouting Noah’s name when she spots him from her vantage point above the heads of the crowd.

Liv greets Amanda first; a hug for Jesse and a wave to Billie, “I didn’t know you were joining us, Carisi.”

“Is that okay?” Sonny asks.

Liv smiles at him, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t mean to crash your day, I’ve just been spendin’ a lot of time with Jesse an’ those animal books Noah gave her. I just wanted to-”

“I thought it’d be nice for the girls to have both their godparents here,” Amanda cut in when she spotted a question in Liv’s expression - most likely focusing on a lot of time. “And he’s carrying Billie, so I don’t have to.”

Liv nods, “It’s fine, Noah was already feeling a bit outnumbered.”

“I wasn’t,” Noah protests, but he’s grinning, “Hi Uncle Sonny!”

Sonny lets go of Billie’s right leg to give Noah a high five, then ducks his knees so that Billie can do the same - it’s endearing; Amanda loves the way Sonny is with the girls, but he’s been this way with Noah for just as long, and it’s always brought a warm feeling to her stomach, one she didn’t have a name for until recently.

By early afternoon Noah and Jesse are grumbling about their legs hurting - Billie is yet to walk anywhere so she’s doing just fine, although Sonny definitely looks like he could do with a break even if he won’t admit it - so they stop for a picnic. Jesse and Noah chase each other around the grass once they’d finished eating, Billie has dozed off with her head on Amanda’s leg and Amanda strokes a hand gently through her hair as she sleeps.

They chat quietly about their plans for the rest of the weekend, about their day so far, about the weather; it’s nice, spending time just relaxing together, the sounds of the children’s laughter making its way back to them.

After about fifteen minutes of chasing each other, Noah and Jesse return to their picnic blanket, Jesse crashing into Sonny and reaching for her water bottle while Noah sits next to Liv. Once they’ve caught their breath Noah looks over at Sonny, “Hey Uncle Sonny?”

Sonny turns to Noah, his hand on Jesse’s back, steading her as she takes a huge gulp of water, “Yeah?”

“Can you come to our house and make pancakes for my breakfast tomorrow?”

Sonny’s eyebrows knit together in confusion as Liv shakes her head at her son, “Noah, that’s not really something you can expect Uncle Sonny to do.”

“But he went over and made pancakes for Jesse this morning,” Noah protests.

Sonny resists the urge to look at Amanda as he stumbles out an excuse, “Well, only because we were-”

“He didn’t come over for pancakes, Noah,” Jesse says, turning onto her back and leaning against Sonny, feet digging into the picnic blanket.

“You said he made real pancakes not from a box.”

“He did!” Jesse yells, sitting upright and ignoring Amanda’s reminder that Billie is sleeping, “But Mommy and Uncle Sonny had a sleepover first,” she adds.

Noah’s eyes go wide and he turns to look at his mother, but Liv isn’t giving anything away.

“Hey,” Amanda says, “Why don’t you guys go over and see the sea lions again - let Billie finish up her nap.”

Jesse, who has no idea what she’s just revealed, jumps happily to her feet, but Noah - who at nine years old realises that this is kind of a big deal without understanding why - is reluctant. He wants to watch how this unfolds.

“Go on, Noah,” Liv says, “Jesse’s too little to go by herself.”

The three of them sit in silence as Jesse tugs Noah down the bank towards the sea lions - three pairs of eyes on the children and none of them on each other.

“I think spending time with Jesse and Billie is good for him,” Liv says, and then she turns to look at them both, “So, a sleepover?”

“Well, it got late an’-” Sonny starts, but Liv fixes him with a look.

“Don’t lie to me, Carisi,” she says, taking a sip from her bottle of water, her eyes drifting between the two of them.

“It’s still new,” Amanda admits, reaching over to place a hand on Sonny’s knee. “It’s not a secret, we’re just-”

“Not advertising it?” Liv nods, “Well, whatever the two of you do in private is your own business,” she says, “But if it gets serious, then-”

“It is,” Sonny interjects, resting his hand on top of Amanda’s, “It’s serious. And we will do whatever we need to, work-wise.”

“I’m really happy for you both,” Liv tells them.

Sunday morning is more chaotic than usual this week. They’re going out to Staten Island for their first official Carisi family gathering and Amanda is nervous enough without her children running rings around them both. The girls had chosen this morning to sleep until a reasonable hour for the first time in their lives - meaning that Amanda’s assertion they didn’t need to set an alarm was proved wrong - and she already feels like she’s two steps behind. Jesse has changed her outfit twice, and Amanda has given up trying to brush her hair; she leaves her in the girls’ bedroom choosing which jacket she’d like to take and seeks out her youngest who had slipped out of sight while Amanda was persuading Jesse not to select a third t-shirt - Sonny’s escaped the chaos by taking Frannie for her morning walk; no little shadows accompanying him today because no one is ready to leave the house.

She finds Billie in the living room, crouched down behind the couch and looking very suspicious.

“Billie? What are you- is that Uncle Sonny’s phone?” Billie has Sonny’s phone gripped in her sticky hands, she’s grinning down at and doesn’t look away until Amanda tries to take it from her.

“Billie’s,” she says, gripping the phone tighter.

“Give it to Momma, please,” Amanda tells her, a firm look on her face which actually works for once; Billie releases her hold on the phone just as Amanda sees the video filling the screen, “Oh- Chief, I-”

“Good morning Detective Rollins,” Garland says, smiling at her, seemingly unconcerned by having a conversation with her two-year-old at 10am on a Sunday.

“I’m so sorry,” Amanda said, “Did Billie call you? I don’t know where she-”

Before Amanda can finish her sentence, she hears a key in the lock, the sound of Frannie’s paws on the wooden floor, and Sonny’s voice sailing down the hallway towards her, “Hey, Rollins - do you remember me puttin’ my phone down last night?”

“It’s here,” she says, but before she can warn him that she’s got Garland on a video call right in front of them he’s pressing a kiss to her cheek as he reaches for the phone, his eyes going wide when he realises.

“Chief - I didn’t- everythin’ okay?” Amanda ducks away, leaving him with the phone in his hands; she picks up Billie before she can cause anymore chaos and carries her towards the bathroom to try and rid her of the sticky residue on her hands and face.

Sonny joins her in the girls’ bedroom a few minutes later; she’s brushing Jesse’s hair back while Billie runs in a circle around them. He gives her a reassuring smile, “He just wanted to check on somethin’ for the Dyer case, Billie must’ve answered it, probably didn’t even mean to,” he tells her. “And he, uh- he said not to worry about Billie, Abby used to be grabbin’ at phones and stuff all the time. He gets it.”

Amanda finishes tying Jesse’s hair back and turns to look at him, “And?”

“He didn’t say anything outright about, uh, us. He didn’t ask and I-” Sonny stops, looking down at the phone still in his hand, “Oh.”

“What?” Amanda asks, standing up and walking towards him, avoiding Billie’s invisible running track.

“Email from Garland,” he says, turning his phone towards her once he’s opened the email - the subject line is Disclosure Paperwork and there’s one file attached.

It has been the worst Friday night Amanda has worked in a long time - she had been ready to clock off at midnight; head home and slip into bed next to Sonny; he’d let her lie in a little in the morning, tell her to get some more sleep while he got up with the girls. But a call came it at 11:25 about a missing foster kid, and now it was nearing 3am, she was exhausted down to the bone and emotionally drained - and that was pretty good shape compared to Kat; equally worn down, but with a split lip, a black eye and shaking hands to go with it. Amanda had been two steps behind her walking into that room, and she’d been quick to take down the perp, but the shock of the violence combined with the sight that greeted them when they looked up - it was enough to bring the most seasoned detective to their knees.

As they grabbed their things at the precinct, Amanda found herself watching Kat, her stiff movements, her quiet, lost gaze. She knew that look, and she knew what came with it, “Where are you going now?” she asked.

“Home.”

Amanda frowned, “Is Celine still out of town?”

“Yeah,” Kat nodded as they walked towards the elevator together, “She’ll be back on Sunday night.”

“I don’t think you should be alone,” Amanda said, protectiveness coming over her.

“It’s fine,” Kat shrugged, “I’m not going to show up at my parents’ house in the middle of the night.”

“Come back to mine,” Amanda said - it wasn’t an offer. She’d worry about letting Kat into the spaces of her life, her relationship, that she’d been keeping quiet another time; her priority right now was keeping her partner, her friend safe - she hadn’t been quick enough to prevent the physical injuries, but she’d definitely sleep a little better knowing that Kat wasn’t at home on her own.

“You’ve got kids to worry about, I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Amanda said firmly, her hand gently on Kat’s arm stopping her from walking away, “Look, we’ve got to look out for each other. You know how many times I made Carisi sleep on my couch when we were partners?”

Kat smiles at that; probably picturing Amanda forcing Carisi into her apartment after a tough shift. It was never that difficult with Carisi though - suggest dinner, time with the girls, and he’d always say yes.

“Alright, okay,” Kat gives in as the elevator arrives.

“It’ll be loud in the morning,” Amanda warns her, “But it’s better than being alone with your thoughts.”

She slips into bed later than planned; she’s set Kat up on the couch, told her to knock if she needs anything during the night. Sonny rolls over almost immediately when she touches a hand to his bare arm, and he gives her a sleepily smile, “You’re back.”

“Hey,” she whispers, “Keep you voice down; Kat’s here.”

He frowns in confusion, “Everythin’ okay?”

“Tough day - night,” Amanda tells him, and his arm comes around her in comfort, “Better she’s not alone.”

“Course,” Sonny says, pulling her little closer; he knows what that’s like. He glances up towards the door, “Do you want me to-”

“What? Sneak out the fire escape?” she shakes her head, smiling at his ridiculousness, “No, we’ve got a few hours before the girls are up, we can figure it out then.”

Amanda has slept maybe three hours when Jesse comes hurtling into the bedroom without knocking - they’re working on that - and rushes over to the bed, speaking at a volume far higher than necessary, “Mommy, Kat’s on our couch!”

“I know, baby,” Amanda says, reluctantly opening her eyes to see her five-year-old leaning in inches from her face, “She slept over. Don’t wake her up.”

“I wanna watch cartoons,” she protests. Sonny reaches for his phone on the nightstand and leans over Amanda, waving it sleepily at Jesse.

“You can watch on here,” he offers.

Jesse grins, “Can I get in bed with you?” She doesn’t wait for an answer, clambering over Amanda’s body to wiggle into the small space between her and Sonny.

“Just don’t call anyone,” Amanda says as Jesse takes Sonny’s phone.

Amanda doesn’t go back to sleep - the cheery cartoon sounds coming through the phone speaker keep her on the edge of wakefulness, but some time passes before she hears Sonny and Jesse whispering to each other.

“But the sun has been up for forever,” Jesse is saying, her negotiation head on. Too bad she’s trying to out manoeuvre a prosecutor.

“That’s because it’s summer,” Sonny tells her, “Mommy and Kat got back very late last night so we’ll let them sleep a little more first.”

“But I don’t wanna stay in bed.”

“Okay,” he says, and Amanda smiles to herself, knowing Jesse definitely thinks she’s winning this argument. “You can stay here and watch cartoons on my phone, or you can come with me to walk Frannie.”

The bed shifts beside her and Amanda opens one eye to see Jesse wrapping her arms around Sonny’s neck pleadingly, “But I want to watch TV in the-”

“Nice try,” Sonny says, tickling her sides until she lets go. “That wasn’t one of the choices.”

“Fine,” Jesse says, with no small amount of drama, “Let’s go for a stupid walk.”

“Jesse-”

“We don’t say stupid,” Jesse sighs, “Sorry Uncle Sonny.” She climbs over Amanda to get out of the bed, creeping out of the door in a way she probably thinks is quiet.

Sonny presses his lips to Amanda’s shoulder as he climbs out of bed, “I’ll make it a long walk. Want me to take Billie too?”

“If she’s awake,” Amanda says gratefully, leaning up for a proper kiss before he gets dressed.

The apartment is quiet, but Amanda still can’t get back to sleep - she heard the door go, Sonny and the girls leaving as quietly as he could get them to, but sunlight is streaming in through the curtains and she’s too awake now to drift off. She gives up after ten minutes and goes to take a shower. On her way back down the hall she hears the sound of her old coffeemaker coming to life, and walks into the kitchen to see that Kat’s awake; the bruise on her eye is purpling but her lip looks less swollen than the night before, “Good morning.”

“Hi I was just making a coffee-” Kat gestures to the machine, she looks a little uncertain, or maybe that’s just the tiredness seeping in.

“It’s fine, make yourself at home.”

“Thanks for letting me stay, it was good not to wake up in an empty apartment,” Kat says, taking a second coffee mug and holding it up to Amanda who nods.

“Any time,” Amanda assures her.

Once they’re both sat in the living room with their coffee mugs in their hands, Kat looks over at Amanda, a smile on her face, “So, I saw something interesting this morning.”

Amanda bites her lip, preparing for what comes next, “What was that?”

“Counsellor Carisi… creeping out of your bedroom,” Kat looks very pleased with herself as she takes a long sip of her coffee, waiting for Amanda’s response.

Amanda doesn’t see any sense in denying it, “Yeah, you probably did.”

“Don’t worry,” Kat says reassuringly, “I’m not going to say anything to the captain.”

“It’s fine,” Amanda waves Kat off, “She already knows - we disclosed two weeks ago, we’re just not advertising it.”

Kat’s eyes go wide at that, “Wait, what? I never- well, you two have always been kind of,” she shrugs, “At least since I’ve known you.”

“Yeah,” Amanda smiles, “We kind of have.”

Amanda knocks once on Sonny’s office door before pushing it open, “Hey Counsellor,” she says, a smile just for him as she slips into the office.

“Hey Detective Rollins,” Sonny says, a smirk on his own lips.

She crosses the room and perches on the end of his desk, “Work call,” she tells him, but she isn’t in any hurry to rush him along.

He leans back in his chair, closing the case file he has open and looking up at her, “What do you need?”

“A warrant for Delugo’s phone records,” Amanda tells him - it is the primary reason for her visit, although she probably could have asked him over the phone, waited until he dropped the warrant off to see him. She likes finding excuses to come over here though, to see him in Counsellor Carisi mode in his own office, even with the mismatched paint and dented filing cabinets. That isn’t new with the change of their relationship - she’s been looking for reasons to swing by the DA’s office ever since he left SVU.

Sonny knows that, knows full well that if it were any other ADA she’d have just phoned, “Alright,” he nods, leaning forward, his face much closer to hers, “but it’ll cost you.”

“Oh, is that so?” Amanda asks, fingers tracing up the tie she’d watched him put on earlier that day, “What’s the fee?”

“Hmm, I think we can negotiate something-” he says, leaning in until his lips are hair’s breadth from her own. She closes the gap without hesitating, taking his bottom lip between hers as she draws him close.

They’re interrupted by the door opening, and a familiar voice groaning at them, “Oh no. Not today.”

Amanda pulls back from the kiss, turning to look at her sergeant over her shoulder. “Fin,” she grumbles, “Don’t you knock?”

“Door’s open,” Fin says, “Didn’t realise it was getting all R-rated in here.”

Sonny rolls his eyes, leaning back into his chair, “It was just a kiss, Fin.”

“I didn’t see anything,” Fin says, hands up, “I don’t know anything.”

“Everyone else already knows,” Amanda says, enjoying the way his expression changes. She is kind of touched that he would have been willing to deny all knowledge if she and Sonny were carrying on a secret relationship though.

Fin frowns at being the last to know. “Since when?”

“Your wedding,” Amanda smiles, “Not wedding.”

“Damn,” Fin shakes his head, “You’re welcome.” He steps fully into the room, holding out a manila folder for Sonny to take. “Liv asked me to drop that off on my way to the courthouse.”

“Thanks Fin,” Sonny says with a nod.

As Fin backs out of the office Amanda stands up, moving around Sonny’s desk, “I better get back. I forgot Fin was in court today.”

“I’ll let you know once I’ve got that warrant,” Sonny says; he’s not keen to see her go but they’re balancing this personal/professional life thing pretty well on the whole - and it’s easier saying goodbye when you know you’re going to be going home together.

“I’ll owe you that fee,” Amanda says, enjoying the way his expression changes as she glances back at him over her shoulder. She knows he’s watching her go; he’ll keep his eyes on her until she’s out of sight and then he’ll pick up his pen and get back to work - a smile still lingering on his face.

Summer’s drawing to a close - afternoons like this one will fade away, replaced with the dim light and cool breeze of the Fall. It’s been the best summer Amanda has had in a long time - for a lot of reasons, but chief amongst them has been letting herself have something she’s longed for since she was a child - the genuine love of a man who she loves right back, her children’s laughter filling their daily lives, friends who have become family around them and there for them.

Before summer ends and Jesse, Noah and Abby go back to school, Garland and his wife have invited them all over for a backyard barbecue, and it’s the first time they’ve all been together outside of work since the not-wedding - the first time she gets to walk into a space filled with their friends, her fingers slotted neatly between Sonny’s.

Jesse and Billie raced ahead of them through the house and into the backyard, chasing the sound of Noah’s excited yells; Amanda and Sonny follow Lamai out to join them; the sun is warm, the scent of good food wafts across the yard, music’s playing softly in the background. The children are huddled together at the bottom of the yard, and from the looks of Billie’s face they’ve already managed to sneak some cake from somewhere.

Sonny releases her hand, a kiss to her cheek before moving to where Fin and Stabler are standing near the grill. Amanda takes an empty seat next to Liv, turning to greet her friends - they’ve all got stupid smiles on their faces and she laughs, shaking her head, “What?”

“Nothing,” Liv says, “It’s nice. Seeing you two like this.”

Amanda bites back a comment about Stabler’s presence - she knows Liv is genuine and she wants to embrace it - so she just nods, leaning back in her chair as the conversation returns to its earlier topics, her gaze moving between Sonny and the children - and then to Sonny and the children when he abandons his spot by the grill to check up on them; within seconds he’s on the floor, a pile of kids on top of him as he dramatically begs for mercy and Amanda has never been more in love with this ridiculous, wonderful man.

He catches her eye across the yard and gives her a wink; yeah, she’s definitely in love.

[yellowocaballero]

Web!Jon Roleplays Canon!Jon: With Mixed Results?

I wrote this a while ago and now that Sucker’s Bet is finally finished I can post it! Yay! This takes place an indeterminate amount of time after the end of Sucker’s Bet. The exact opposite thing happened with this story that usually happens: I had a very depressing idea and then I was REALLY METICULOUS to make sure it was fluffy. What’s fluffier than healthy discussions about boundaries, needs, and consent?

CW for some unnegotiated roleplay stuff? The same topics that were hit in Sucker’s Bet are hit here. Suggestion of future sexual activity/language but no follow-up. 

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” Sasha chanted, thumping her glass on the table and cheering uproariously. “Do it! Do it!”

Tim laughed drunkenly, slapping the table too. “Double dog dare you! Do it! Do it!”

Good lord, this was like secondary. Jon rolled his eyes, hiding himself behind his cider. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Martin.

Sasha: thought it would be funny, scientific curiosity. She wanted to see some magic, and Jon was a magician. Little more than a pub bet.

Tim: similarly, morbid curiosity.  Had more complicated feelings about the whole thing, but that was partly why he was doing it: make everything normal, settle in, stop awkwardly hiding parts of us from each other. Thought that this would help them make friends, also a pub bet.

Martin…

They probably wouldn’t have asked if they weren’t drunk as hell.

Or maybe they would have. Jon was silently hoping that Tim and Sasha would become more comfortable with him. He had a lot of tricks and methods to make them more comfortable with him, but he had decided very firmly to relax. If Tim and Sasha didn’t like him...well, he had already done possibly the douchiest thing possible to them, and they hung out with him anyway, so their expectations were probably on the floor.

Granted, that was mostly in Martin contexts. He rarely hung out with them alone. They were probably only putting up with him because he was Jon’s boyfriend. Jon knew how it was, and frequently exploited it: you think you’re part of his group until you realize he’s terrible and break up with him, and then suddenly you have no friends, so you never get around to breaking up with him and you’re never happy and you never find someone you’re happy with. 

Martin assured him frequently that they liked him. He suggested that Jon ask them, which he may have gotten from a CBT workbook that he surreptitiously read, but Jon was well aware how that put people in an awkward position. If they didn’t like you, what would they do - tell you?

Well. Tim would. Yeah, Tim would. This was why Tim was trustworthy and a good person. Jon loved people who were incapable of lying, it was like watching zoo animals through binoculars. 

They wouldn’t have asked if they weren’t drunk as hell. But they were drunk as hell, and there was nothing better than pub tricks. 

“What I don’t understand,” Tim said, in that kind of dancing lilting way that only the half-drunk were capable of, “is how you convinced everyone that you knew how to do that job when you, like, don’t read anything more complicated than fashion magazines.”

“I knew he couldn’t do the job,” Sasha said furiously, draining her gin and tonic. “I knew it, but did anybody listen?”

“We all knew, honey.”

Jon shrugged, adjusting his long linen shirt that hugged his torso flatteringly. Honestly, if Jon had been born a woman he would have been too powerful. “That one involved a little bit of spider powers,” he admitted. “But not much. I didn’t do much other than record statements. Telling Sasha that we ‘appreciate her initiative’, but, like, grudgingly, meant that she actually did most of the work.”

Sasha’s jaw dropped in indignation. “I did most of the - shit, I did! I did all of the archiving stuff, didn’t I?”

“I just looked really hurried and spent a lot of time in my office,” Jon said apologetically. “If you always sound stressed then people just assume that you’re doing things. I was really chatting up people on Tinder most of the time.”

“I was not paid enough,” Sasha grumbled, leaning back in her seat. 

“You keep making yourself out to be lazy,” Martin said mildly. He wasn’t drinking, designated as the sober one of the group tonight. “But you were using that downtime to do other work for your other job.”

Jon himself had a drink or two and he was pleasantly light headed - not drunk, but tipsy enough to feel confident and to shut up all of the annoying anxious voices in his head. It was refreshing, and felt very good. That being said, when Jon was fourteen and Gerry sixteen Agnes sat them with a twenty slide powerpoint presentation on how drinking culture in the UK facilitated alcoholism without recognition of it, so these are things you should never do while drinking and this is how to prevent binge drinking and unhealthy drinking habits. Jon didn’t always listen - alcohol was God’s solution for anxiety - but he tried. Agnes also tried that with Annabelle, but she just hissed at her and downed an entire energy drink at once while staring her in the eyes. They figured Annabelle wasn’t at risk. 

“I still don’t believe you,” Tim said imperiously, slamming his pint on the table and making his beer slosh. “If you did the whole schtick now, it would come off so fake.”

“Definitely. I never fall for the same thing twice,” Sasha bragged. “It would obviously still be Jon - what, Hawthorne? Jon Hawthorne. Or was it Hastings…”

“Hawthorne today,” Jon said politely. But he just shrugged, leaning back in his own seat and sipping delicately at his hard cider. “I can guarantee that, if I pulled out that persona again, nobody at this table would be able to see through it.” At Martin’s surly look, Jon appended, “Maybe Martin would.” Everybody shot him slightly incredulous looks, and he sighed. “I promise I’m good at my job! I’m only...transparent when I’m socializing outside of a persona. You all caught me at a weird time in my life.” He shuddered. “Vacations. Never again.”

“The problem with all of that was vacations,” Martin said flatly. 

“Do it! Do it! Do it!” Sasha chanted, thumping her glass on the table and cheering uproariously. “Do it! Do it!”

Tim laughed drunkenly, slapping the table too. “Double dog dare you! Do it! Do it!”

Good lord, this was like secondary. Jon rolled his eyes, hiding himself behind his cider. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Martin. 

Sasha: thought it would be funny, scientific curiosity. She wanted to see some magic, and Jon was a magician. Little more than a pub bet. 

Tim: similarly, morbid curiosity.  Had more complicated feelings about the whole thing, but that was partly why he was doing it: make everything normal, settle in, stop awkwardly hiding parts of us from each other. Thought that this would help them make friends, also a pub bet. 

Martin…

In Martin, Jon saw the same thing that he had always seen. Even stronger, today, than ever. For a month, back then, it had been little more than intrusive thoughts and some light, bored mental meandering. For two, three, months, it had grown deeper and deeper, so thoroughly that it was a surprise. Jon had done a very good job with him. Granted, he had just meant to flirt to keep him complacent, not to end up...doing all of that, and going through all of this, and ending up here. That had never quite been in the plan. 

Martin thought that this roleplay would he really fucking hot. Which, ultimately, swayed Jon: he liked it when Martin thought he was hot. It wasn’t hard, but somehow it meant much more to him than it did from anybody else. It was very strange: that something so easily attained was treasured so highly. Deeply nonsensical. 

“I’m not doing it,” Jon said firmly, and both Tim and Sasha groaned. “It’s not a party trick, guys. Martin, can you scooch? I need the loo.”

Jon, of course, took a slightly meandering approach to the loo. He ditched his pea coat and scarf at the table hidden underneath the tablecloth just out of sight. He fetched a pair of abandoned glasses left on a pub (their owner was annoying a woman), grabbed an abandoned blazer off the back of a chair (its owner was almost passed out drunk, Jon could give it back before the end of the night). He slipped into the bathroom and added his new accessories, taking care to tuck his shirt in. He slipped a hairband from his wrist and quickly did his hair up in a messy bun - he really did need a lot of gel and some combs to get it in his bun normally, but he’d do the best with what he had. Jon glanced in the mirror, looking himself over and fixing his bun as best as he could. He took a deep breath, then two. 

There was always that moment: when Jon slid into it. It felt like skidding on ice, thrust someplace else. Or like an exhale, centering himself as his molecules rearranged. It was a thrilling feeling, often accompanied by a heady thrill or adrenaline. 

No matter how many times he did this, it was still fun. Jon loved it. He really, really loved winning. And Jon always won. 

When Jon walked back to the table, his posture was uncomfortably stiff yet visibly hunched over. Look proud and professional, but deeply feel uncomfortable with the noise and sound and clamor of the pub. Anxious and socially awkward, but trying to hide it - that was familiar. 

Jon halted at the table, where Tim was already telling Martin about a snowboarding accident. They stopped short when they saw him, one hand worrying at his blazer as he scowled at them. “Martin, will you move over? I can’t get to my seat.”

“Uh,” Martin said intelligently. 

“Any day now,” Jon said frostily. 

Martin quickly got up and let Jon slide in. Jon, who had been sitting pressed up against Martin’s side, took care to slide much further away so he was more hovering at the edges of the group -  not enough that it was awkward, but definitely a bit to the right of Sasha directly ahead of him. He avoided eye contact with everybody, picking up his drink and sniffing it suspiciously. The accent was the easiest part of it, the only wrinkle carefully making it almost perceivably fake. 

“Holy shit,” Tim said loudly, voice rising in incredulity, “you actually did it?”

“Did what?” Jon asked. He carefully took a sip of the drink, before grimacing in distaste. “Absolutely vile…” 

“You did the thing,” Sasha said, so excited she was almost bouncing up and down. “You’re doing the thing, holy shit! That was such a Jon face!”

“Er. If you say so.” Jon busied himself with the drink again, obviously pantomiming sipping as he fiddled with the arm of the blazer. Under his breath, yet very audibly, he muttered, “What a waste of time…”

“Man, this is like, what, LARPing?” Tim batted at Sasha’s arm, looking excited. “I’ll play along. Remember we used to do this together?” 

They had. Jon had to pretend that he was unbearably awkward about the whole thing, yet secretly excited to be invited. In reality, pubs were such a cornerstone of Jon’s existence he found them dull as bricks, but it had been fun to channel someone terrified of too many people in a room. 

Sasha’s chin was propped on her hand, giggling. “What’s your organization system for the files, huh, Jon? What’s your organization system? How are you sorting the documents?”

“Tim told me that you don’t talk about work at pubs,” Jon said defensively. “He said you talk about - what was it -” He looked at Tim planatively, obviously lost. “Hobbies? You talk about hobbies?”

“How do you organize the files, Jonathan?”

“Yes, Boss, hobbies,” Tim said faux-sympathetically. He put a hand on his heart, pulling a face. “You gotta have hobbies, right? Shopping, haircare, stealing money, getting fake married?”

“That’s all for his job,” Martin muttered. 

“I have hobbies,” Jon said defensively. He adopted an expression of panicked thought, groping for something. “I like...television.” 

“What television, Jonathan,” Sasha said flatly. 

Jon pretended to sweat. “Television shows?”

“Unrealistic!” Tim slapped the table. “Everyone at least knows a telly show, no matter how much of a nerd they are. Fakey Jon Sims.”

“I do!” Jon protested. “I - well, not recently, but - documentaries count. I watch documentaries. I was watching this fascinating one about the Jonestown Massacre, and the intriguing series of events the lead into the mass death -”

Then he was off, shifting into his confidence when infodumping. Confidence because he was so wrapped up in the joy of sharing information he forgot that it kind of included dominating the conversation, and he watched with satisfaction as everybody’s eyes started glazing over. Everybody except Martin, who was scrolling through his phone looking disinterested. 

Looking. His cheeks were a little flushed. Jon patted himself on the back. 

“I’m sorry,” Jon said, cutting himself off, “am I boring you, Martin?”

But Martin didn’t even look up. “I’m not participating in this.”

“Aw, come on,” Tim wheedled. “Look, he’s even doing the Mah-tin thing. You always started fanning yourself whenever he did that.”

Sasha was, very drunkenly, taking notes. “It’s uncanny. Like a dead person brought back to life and annoying you.”

“Are we really making this entire outing about Martin?” Jon asked, pretending irritation. Play into it. Bloke wouldn’t admit it, but there was a reason he had liked Jon back then. It wasn’t for his sparkling personality, beyond the little flashes of something more tender underneath. Have your cake and eat it too. “You said that this would be fun, Tim.”

Tim just laughed. “Aw, Martin’s not fun?”

“I never said that,” Jon said stiffly. He glanced at Martin out of the corner of his eye, clearly working himself up to say something. When he spoke, the words were almost forced out. “What..are you playing?”

“Sincerely buzz off,” Martin said flatly.

Jon couldn’t help it - his cheeks genuinely burned. He looked away, careful to keep an expression on his face as if he was examining the molding because Martin had said something socially awkward, but hot shame flared in his chest. 

He made it seem as if he downed his drink. “Excuse me, I’m...getting us more drinks.”

Jon made a show of slightly stumbling as he made his way to the bar. Martin had given him the permission to extort drinks out of people through flirting and judicious eye-batting - guy was very strictly monogamous but also practical - and in barely a few minutes he had enough collected for their table. He carefully walked them all back, settling them on the table, and waited for both Tim and Sasha to grab their drinks and start enthusiastically downing them. 

He wanted to drop it, ask Martin if he made him uncomfortable, reassure him. But that would ruin the momentum of this, the steam train picking up speed, and it was impossible for Jon to miss the dual things that Martin was feeling.

Super turned on. Also very uncomfortable. Jon decided that he was uncomfortable because he found it attractive, and he was dealing with some guilt over that. 

It would be fun to reassure him, but Jon had the sense that he wouldn’t like him to do it in public. 

Soon afterwards, with a little more friendly yet understated performance from Jon and uproarious laughter from Tim and Sasha, Sasha’s head had begun dropping onto the table more frequently than not and Tim decided that it was time to take her home. More accurately, Jon knew, to Tim’s place, as it was closer. He’d drop her on the couch, he’d slide into his own bed, and he’d think about a different situation. She’d wake up in the morning, eyes squinting against the harsh sun, and hope for a moment - but no, the couch again. Neither were willing to bridge the gap. 

Jon and Martin stumbled out too. Jon had been intending on spending the night at Martin’s place - Jon loved cuddling, it was his favorite thing - and Jon made a show of acting slightly drunker than he was as Martin thoughtfully kept a hand on his back. He stumbled out the door, gripping Martin’s coat and giggling. He had strategically returned the blazer back to the guy, and Martin had his other clothing draped over his arm. 

“And, in my opinion,” Jon stated decisively as he swayed, “as part of our anti-colonialist efforts we should give Ireland back to the Irish -”

“You can drop it,” Martin said, gently guiding him towards the tube station. They still had an hour before the last trains ran. “Seriously.”

Jon giggled, before slightly bending down to whisper in Jon’s ear. He kept the accent, the inflections, everything. “But you really find it hot.”

Martin sputtered as Jon laughed uproariously - not his laugh, the Archivist’s laugh - and they teetered towards home. 

On the tube Jon kept a hand on Martin’s thigh, and Martin kept glancing and glancing towards him, and Jon would shoot him a prissy look as his hand wandered up his thigh, and Martin would get redder and redder. 

When Martin unlocked his flat door it took several times, with his hand shaking slightly, and Jon hid a smirk behind a hand. On some level, he was always roleplaying when he did these kinds of things, but with Martin it was usually so authentic that this was positively novel. Jon’s mind was already furiously churning as he set up the scene - yes, that would be exactly right, this would be fun -

Jon stumbled inside after Martin, who was already taking off his coat and hanging it on the peg. He put Jon’s coat up too, glancing at Jon out of the corner of his eye. 

The Archivist wouldn’t really notice something like that, so he didn’t either. “Lord, Martin, your flat’s as messy as your desk.”

Martin still looked a little pained, even as his cheeks were quite red. “Yeah, ha ha. My desk wasn’t that bad, you were just being picky.”

“Yes, I suppose I must apologize for that.” Jon drew himself up to his full height, stepping close to Martin - closer than the Archivist ever had. “Martin, I’m afraid - well, I have a confession.”

“Oh, boy,” Martin said. 

“Don’t get snippy with me,” Jon said prissily. But he leaned in, keeping his expression just on the faintest edge of innocently scared. “I never wanted to admit this. It was just so inappropriate, what with me being your boss and all. I always - well, I always knew how you felt about me. It was...charming.”

Obviously involuntarily, Martin squeaked a bit. Adorable. 

Jon reached out and put a hand on the back of his neck, leaning in. “Truth be told, I was looking at you too. I was just embarrassed. I didn’t like admitting it. But I couldn’t help thinking about it.” That was, obviously, how Martin’s fantasies had always worked. Not realistic, but realism wasn’t the point of your absent daydreams during a boring workday. “But I’m tired of hiding it. I really want you, Martin. I always have. I want you to bend me over my desk and -”

“Shut it off, Jon!”

Jon shut it off. They had agreed on the phrase ages ago, the very solid cue to drop all of Jon’s shit. Jon regularly kept up the shit just because he found it entertaining, and oftentimes comforting, but Martin sometimes found it unbelievably obtrusive when he was trying to have a serious conversation. It was difficult - Jon got panicked during serious conversations, so he usually defensively threw his shit back up again, and it was a self-perpetuating cycle that had frustrated and upset the both of them until they had sat down and talked about it. If Jon couldn’t keep up the conversation without lying, then they both walked away and came back to it later. It was work. But it was good work, the kind that allowed for the good stuff to flourish. Uncomfortable, messy, and real - but maybe that was what Jon liked about it. 

“Sorry,” Jon said. He straightened, letting every expression drop away until he was back at his favored neutral. He knew that Martin found it unsettlingly blank, but he rarely complained. “Did I go too far with the desk thing?”

Martin just stood there, carefully controlling his breathing. Jon waited, letting Martin pick through his thoughts and try to shape them. It was probably more difficult than usual, considering how well Jon had been striking the right notes, so he gave him some time.

Finally, Martin said, “I get having fun with Sasha and Tim. I get us doing roleplay, privately, together. I get you doing a role for your job. But the Archivist gig has a lot of baggage with it, for all of us. Do you understand why I feel weird about you pulling that into bedroom stuff?”

“We watch TV in your bedroom,” Jon pointed out. At Martin’s flat, unamused look, Jon had to fight the urge to shuffle his feet. “I sincerely don’t understand your reaction. I’ve seen your search history -”

“Jon!”

“Research for before we got together, don’t think anything of it,” Jon said quickly. “But doesn’t that make it better? It’s not often somebody gets everything they want from somebody unattainable. Or, you know, not real, but…”

“Jon, for a mind reader you can be terrible at picking up cues sometimes,” Martin said, exasperated. “I know your reasons for doing stuff like this -”

“I’m fantastic at picking up cues,” Jon corrected, oddly huffy. “Because I always know what people want. Their desires, even if they don’t like admitting it to themselves. Do you have any idea how many people on this Earth are bisexual but won’t admit it?”

But, somehow, that just made Martin’s eyes widen a little, as if a realization had cracked. “It cannot be comfortable knowing how many people are attracted to you when you’re sex-repulsed.”

“It’s fine,” Jon lied. “I like it.”

“Jon.”

“Whatever. I got used to it.” Jon shrugged. “I like it when you like me. You’re my boyfriend. I want to make you happy because I like seeing you happy. That’s my ulterior motive.”

Martin sighed again, but thankfully he didn’t look as stressed anymore. Win. He broke away from Jon, instead dropping heavily onto the couch, and Jon hesitantly sat down next to him. His costume abruptly felt stifling, and when he saw Martin’s eyes linger on the bun he undid it and untucked his shirt. God, his hair was a wreck. 

“The Archivist has baggage for me,” Martin said quietly. “I know how I feel, and I try not to be embarrassed over stuff that most people go through and feel. Had enough of that internalized homophobia for a lifetime. I...can’t avoid you knowing how I feel, or what I’m thinking. I know you can try not to look, but you can’t completely control it either. I understand all of this. But you knowing what I want isn’t the same as me asking for it. Do you understand that difference?”

Jon shrugged uncomfortably. 

“Jon. Do you get that I felt uncomfortable because what you did was unnegotiated and you didn’t ask my permission?”

The feeling of embarrassment and guilt spiked higher, and Jon looked away and stared fixedly at some admittedly quite pretty art on the wall. “You’re making it sound bad.”

“I should have shut that down earlier. That’s my bad. You should have stopped to ask. Your bad. We’re both at fault, so we shouldn’t be mad at each other. Are we all good on that?”

Jon stayed silent for a little bit, staring at the wall, trying his best to assemble his own thoughts in his brain. He wasn’t smart. He had problems assembling the words for the complex and large and overwhelming feelings he felt so often. How was Martin so good at breaking this down and putting it into words, when Jon could barely even express how he felt?

Well, Martin probably had more practice…

“You’re so frustrating,” Jon whispered. “You don’t like asking for what you want. You do make me guess. You’re embarrassed to say any of it - the things you want me to do, or the things you like. You do want me to read your mind, because everybody wants a mind reader in their relationship. Especially when it comes to sexual things. But what I can’t read is the...choices you make. Just what you want. And you always make a choice that’s contrary to what you want, and I can never guess. So I do what you want, which is always the exact opposite of what you want me to actually do, and…”

After a second of silence, Martin said, “I need to work on that. I have to be more vocal too. But, Jon, nowhere in that did you mention what you want.”

Jon turned back to look at him, and saw that Martin’s expression was creased. With a mix of - sadness, frustration, conviction, dedication. Imagine being that dedicated, about anything. “Nothing about me minded this time,” Jon said, flabbergasted. “I liked it. I like playing, I like making you feel good, I like winning.” Martin opened his mouth, and Jon quickly said, “Don’t pretend that socialization isn’t a game that everyone is always trying to win, you liar.”

Martin shut his mouth. He could not deny it. Finally, he said, “I hate how you have to say this time.”

He couldn’t help it - he cringed, very hard. Terrible memory. Terrible, terrible, terrible - “I don’t want you to touch me the rest of tonight,” he said, in one rushed breath. Georgie told him to say it. Georgie, Melanie, and Martin. He was supposed to say this. 

“Of course, no problem,” Martin said, quickly yet calmly. “Was there anything in that I shouldn’t bring up again?”

“That never happened,” Jon said, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest. “Stop bringing it up, it’s over, I’m fine - I’m going to bed!”

Hilariously, it was Martin’s flat, but Jon needed to dramatically retreat, so he ended up claiming Martin’s bed for his own. He was very aware that Martin would grab the couch for tonight, because Jon had asked him to. So he was left shoving himself into the pyjamas that he left at Martin’s, wrapping his hair, and sliding under the covers. 

But he wasn’t really tired. Jon’s mind kept churning and churning, trying desperately to tease out his own feelings, before realizing that he really didn’t want to know.

It was a really good conversation. Jon was glad that they had it - that Martin hadn’t gone along with it if he wasn’t comfortable, that he had actually pointed out where Jon crossed a line. Nothing about it was bad. Everything was a work in progress - Jon and Martin most of all. 

So much of them clashed. So much of them cared about each other more than the clashing. They ran up against these things incessantly, and Jon felt as if they worked it out every time. 

He would definitely make Martin breakfast tomorrow. Lots of bacon, although Jon never ate the stuff. He would have to clarify that the way this ended - it wasn’t Martin’s fault, not really. He would probably also have to clarify that his random terror wasn’t something that was any of Martin’s business. He was the one person Jon didn’t want to talk it over with, actually. 

Martin respected Jon a lot. More than Jon thought was rational, considering...himself. He never vocalized what exactly he wanted, because he respected that it was never in consideration. Jon had even seen him want it less and less - it barely even came up anymore. Except, of course, when Jon teased on purpose…

When Jon teased on purpose and didn’t tell Martin that he didn’t want something so then he made himself -

It was a good conversation, except Jon ruined it because something stupid that didn’t mean anything at all sent him into abject shame and terror.

This was so hard. Jon hated thinking this much. He decided to fall asleep instead. Much simpler.

In dreams, where everything was an illusion and nothing meant anything at all, nobody minded that none of it was real. 

*

Tim: omfg im so fucking hungoverrrr I hate being 34

Tim: good time last night tho

Tim: also like it WAS funny but you know we like you best as you, rite? U normally dont so Ill validate: liking you best as you, always

*

Sasha: THE DOCUMENTS, JON!!! 

Sasha: Tim says you might have gotten the wrong impression from last night so I’ll also validate: all of you is good. Even the bad parts are good. Does that make sense?

Sasha: Tim said that that sounded ‘backhanded’ but you know what I mean

Sasha: Man why is it so hard to just say what I mean!!! 

Sasha: Life’s stupid. Tell Martin I said hi.