#anyway I think if I tell myself I can't do that bc I still need the morning to think of tags that will work. perhaps

[bitchfitch]

My mother's bf had a fairly major surgery (he's fine and recovering well DW) and he's going to be housebound for his birthday this year, so I've been enlisted to come up with a fancy birthday meal for the special birthday boy that's primarily fruit and veg, sweeter than savory, and is something he's never had before.

Bc I'm making watermelington. It's beef Wellington, but watermelon. bc my mom only found out recently you can use watermelon as a tuna substitute. And I know that you can substitute most higher quality beef cuts with tuna or salmon.... usually. Anyways the idea fascinates her so I'm hoping to use that for bonus points.

Now he's off his ass on pain killers so I can't like. Ask him if he's ever had something before. so to meet my brief I've decided to just. commit a novel hate crime against the British I guess.

Anyways. I'm writing this because I need to walk myself through this process and think it'll be surreal enough to be worth taking y'all along for.

So, Beef Wellington. In its most basic bitch arrangement is a beef tenderloin wrapped in prosciutto/really thin bacon, with a layer of mushroom and onion mush, that has been further wrapped in mustard slathered puff pastry.

We will be ship of Theseusing this. bc beef Wellington is like. the opposite of what he wants. Which is why it's funny.

Puff pastry-> it's still just puff pastry

this one doesn't have to change (aka I can't be fucked to do pastry prep and I'm just gonna use store bought it's Fine.)

the prosciutto is also just going to be prosciutto.

Thin meat

Beef tenderloin-> watermelon,

Tbh this is a pretty 1 to 1 substitution. I'll bake the slices at like. 250-300 for an hour or so ahead of the rest of prep to dry it out a bit. bc you can't like. Sear watermelon to seal in the water like you can beef. By definition it's a very wet fruit (like me when I fall into the lake). Ill Add salt and chili and lime juice while baking maybe. this is the easy part

The mushroom mush-> salsa done bad style

As the word mush implies, this is meant to be a very soft mix. It adds a lot of nuttiness to the wellington that rounds out all of the salt from the meats. I'm replacing it with white person salsa(the birthday boy can't handle spice). Tomato, lime juice, parsley, avocado, cucumber, feta, and maybe mango so I can have an excuse to have a lil mango treat. I said I wasn't making it spicy. I'm still putting a bit of chili in it. bc it'll be better like that. This is also a ridiculously wet bit of mush, Even the original mushrooms have too much water. I'll figure something out.

Mustard -> jelly

He lives in a big city. those preserve sections are massive. I'll find a weird one. maybe apricot.

Prep:

We're in the mind palace kitchen, I have not attempted any of this. We're just thinking real hard about it and I'll edit as needed on the day and post results.

The watermelon

Preheat oven to eh. 300f? We want low and slow to dry things out without it taking a year. but idk what his oven is like. If it's gentle I'll bump it up another ten-twenty.

Slather some watermelon slices in salt chili powder and lime juice mixture.

bake for 30 min on a wire rack or directly on the oven racks (after cleaning thoroughly) if he doesn't have a wire rack. with a drip try underneath to catch the drippage. check frequently. Have one slice that's for being poked to see if it's approaching being meat. Bake longer if needed.

Salsa bad style

chop everything up and add it to a pan with some oil in it. Tbh I don't think the type of oil you use for cooking matters if you're not like, getting near any smoke points. Most people can't tell the difference unless you made your food bland as hell.

Anyways there's some wildly different moisture contents on the list so there has to be an Order to cook off as much water as possible without getting yucky.

Tomatoes and cucumbers go in together with some salt to get the cucs softening, then the mango chunks and lime juice. Once most of the water is gone the avocado feta and parsley can go in. There is a good amount of water in avocados but they're delicate and don't pan fry well, so we're just going to ignore their water crimes and hope for the best. They just need to be evenly mixed through the rest of the mush.

Putting it together

lay out the puff pastry, cut into sections to wrap each watermelon slice individually with.

Slather in jam

Take the prosciutto and lay it out on half of each section of the pastry,

spoon the salsa onto that

Melon

Another layer of salsa

another layer of thin meat

Fold the pastry over the top and pinch the edges bc watermelon slices are not a rollable shape and I don't want to carve a watermelon into a tube for this because that sounds irritating.

Brush with egg wash and more parsley

Cook in oven following the pastry's preferred temp and time. it's fucking watermelon, you're not getting ecoli from it.

watermelington :)

I'm serving it with baked sweet potatoes and spinach based salad with whatever toppings are left over from making the salsa.

anyways thank you for joing me on this thought experiment. I will post updates once the deed is done. I'm sorry to every British person ever.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Everytime I face a new character limit on a website that didn't have them before/used to have really long ones... AUGHHhhh the modern social media world was not made for people like me (lovers of details, rambling, elaboration, thorough explanation, and nuance)

[byanyan]

anyway I'm still struggling, still mentally & emotionally exhausted, and still just haven't got the brainpower for writing 🙃

[judesstfrancis]

it is has been so long in fact almost a full calendar year since I last posted a fic that I had forgotten how hard it was to just sit on my hands and wait to post a story at an acceptable hour. god help me

[cheekblush]

really starting to think someone put the evil eye on me.....

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

Mon I think Aaron got a pair of old man (dilf) style reading glasses and at first he’s embarrassed to wear them with the team bc he knows Morgan or Dave will tell him he’s getting old BUT when he wears them at work he notices you get unable to focus in the team meeting and you’re all dazed basically until he takes them off and tucks them away but bonus point that this interaction makes him feel very desired and wanted 😵‍💫 and maybe he’ll show them off to you in private later 🤫

The Glasses

Warnings: Pining?? Sort of?? Maybe idk. Nothing smutty but there are some implications. This is like borderline nsfw? Maybe??

Word count: 1.1k

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x gn!bau!reader

A/n: Omg yes. We love dilf glasses on Hotch. He already looks so pretty and desirable but something about glasses on him is different and I need it. I wouldn't say this fic is necessarily nsfw. But I might be willing to write a part two where it becomes smutty. I'll leave this as sfw unless I come to the conclusion that it should be marked otherwise.

Tags: @criminalskies

Forever tags: @greg-montgomery @boredelle

You're completely distracted and it's all his fault. Him and his downright slutty glasses. The first time you saw him wearing them it was a very brief sighting as he had taken them off after just a few seconds of you being in the room. And ever since then you craved to see him wearing those glasses again. They often made an appearance in some of the very inappropriate fantasies you have about your boss. They'd even worked their way into your dreams at night.

The case the team is currently working has been dragging on for a couple of days now and you've gotten basically nowhere with it. The fact that you're sitting across from Hotch as he reads a file with his glasses on is not helping you concentrate on the case in the slightest. And it's stirring something up deep inside you the more you stare at him. Aaron wearing those glasses and looking all serious as he reads is making you very horny if you're being totally honest.

"Y/l/n? Y/l/n. Y/n." You hear Hotch speak your name in a stern tone and you feel his hand grasp yours and he squeezes it. You snap out of your trance. "Hmm? Yeah, what is it, Hotch?" He furrows his brows as he looks at you and pulls his hand away now that he has your attention. "Are you okay? You've been distracted. Every time we sit here looking through files, you seem to be distracted. Is something going on? Are you alright?" Concern is clear in his voice.

What you want to say is "No, I'm not alright. I'm horny and it's your fault because you're wearing dilf glasses that make me want you more than ever. You're very distracting and if you don't put them away right now I'll launch myself over this table and kiss you before dragging you to my hotel room." But you figure that's not really the best thing to say to your boss right now. So you settle for giving him a smile and a nod before looking back down at the file in front of you as you try to force yourself not to look at the beautiful man sitting across from you.

You stare down at the papers but even though you're not looking at him anymore, you still aren't actually focusing on the words on the page because you're so concentrated on not looking back up at Hotch to steal another glance at those glasses. Though eventually you can't help it and do it anyway. You can't really stop yourself as you look back to him.

The glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he scowles down at his papers. You sigh out loudly by accident. No one else is really paying attention to you aside from Emily and Derek sending each other smirks when they notice just why you're so out of it. But the loud sigh makes Aaron look at you again. His glasses are down far enough that he's looking over the top of them to make eye contact with you.

"Y/n, are you sure you're fine?" He asks, sounding even more concerned now.

"What? Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired is all."

He stays silent as he observes you for a moment before nodding and going back to his reading.

This continues as the team starts throwing ideas around. Aaron keeps an eye on you throughout it and he knows your excuse of being tired, while partially true, is definitely not the main reason for your behaviour and he just can't pinpoint exactly what it is. But he realises it must have something to do with him as you can't keep your eyes off of him, and only him. You're not having this problem with any of the other team members. Not Derek, not JJ, not anyone but him.

He goes back to your previous statement about being tired once everyone goes back to sifting through the numerous number of old reports and files from the precinct as you all try to come up with a group of suspects.

Hotch speaks up when he feels your eyes on him again. "Would you like me to get you a coffee? I know what they have here isn't very good, but it might wake you up a bit." He glances up at you as he waits for your response. "Yeah, sure. That's probably just what I need."

He nods and stands, in the process he removes his glasses and sets them down on the table. He notices how your eyes follow the glasses and that's when pieces start coming together in his mind. He figures he'll test it out when he comes back.

He leaves and comes back a few minutes later with your cup of coffee and sets it down in front of you. You thank him and he nods then sitting back down. This time, leaving his glasses off. In fact, he actually puts them away so they're out of sight entirely.

This seems to change things. You're more focused on the work. You still give him the occasional glance but you're not full on staring at him with drool practically spilling out of your mouth like you had been earlier.

He leaves the glasses put away and he tries his best to read without them like he used to. He'd known he had needed glasses long ago but he refused to wear them because he didn't want his age to show. He knew he would get some teasing remarks about it from Dave and Morgan. But eventually, it got to the point where he could hardly do the reading part of his job. So he reluctantly had his eyes checked and soon he was wearing glasses that made it far easier to read.

He didn't like the glasses in the slightest. They made him feel old and he didn't like that. But the way you looked at him when he was wearing them, that did something to him. It made him want to wear them.

Unable to work without them, he gets them back out and puts them on. It's hard not to notice the way you immediately look back up from your work. He pretends not to see it.

Over the next half hour you can't help but watch him like he's the most interesting thing you've ever seen. You're fixated on him. And now he is sure it's the glasses that are doing it. He has to bite back a smile. Knowing you apparently find him so attractive with them on makes him feel good inside. He doesn't understand why you would like it, but it's extremely clear that it's doing something for you. He's tempted to show up at your hotel room later to explore this further and see just how much you like them.

[sanguineterrain]

your most recent jason fic has me in a bit of a chokehold and its bc you do so well with the dialogue and the banter!!

HONEYLOVE???#?*×& i need to be physically restrained (i appreciate your fics respectfully)

anyways, the fic has me thinking: imagine it's the same reader, but they know Jason's alive and they're back to being friends again (skipping over the drama of "YOU'RE ALIVE?!?" "yea lmao sorry ily tho") but there's this tension now. and since Jason's not working with a mask anymore (and he's slightly more vulnerable with r), it's him who gets flustered and it's r who does the flirting playful banter. maybe it ends with a kiss (˘ ³˘) ?

i'm such a sucker for a flustered Jason and there's something that tells me he gets really weak in the knees for someone he adores >:) anyways, you can always choose to write this or not but a very big, fat thank you if you do

the reaction pics are SO FUNNY i'm glad you enjoy this au <3

jason todd x gn!nocturne!reader. pt 3 of vigilante reader. this is basically reader just being feral over jason :> they speak for all of us, really. love confessions, tension, somewhat flustered jason, more sparring lols.

pt 1 / pt 2

****

Jason Todd is alive. Jason Todd is sitting two feet away, talking about a case.

You can't quite believe it. You went home two days ago and expected to wake up to the whole thing being a dream or the result of a Poison Ivy hallucinogen.

You can't stop staring at him. It's weird. You're being weird. But you can't help it.

Every time you see Jason, you want to look at him for as long as possible. You don't want to forget his face. This new face. Scarred and hardened, but still good. Still loved.

And, well. It's not like Jason's bad looking. Sure, you thought he was cute when you were teenagers. Resurrection makes the heart grow fonder, et cetera.

But now? Now, Jason makes your heart stupid. You can barely contain your desire. It's been two weeks since he revealed himself, and every time you see him, you have to dig your nails into your palms to keep yourself from showing him what he does to you.

Sometimes you think he sees right through you, but if he does, he never acts on it.

"—listening. Yo. Ground control to Major Tom. Are you with me?"

Jason waves a hand in front of you. You blink.

He's unmasked and in a Fleetwood Mac t-shirt and dark jeans—the most comfortable you've seen him, actually. His hair is still wet from his shower.

"Sorry," you say, suddenly zeroed in on the three droplets of water sliding down his neck. "I'm listening. Just looking at you."

"'Cause I'm so pretty?" Jason asks, batting his lashes.

You reach over without thinking. He freezes when you wipe the water off of his neck. Then you tuck a curl behind his ear.

"You should let me blow-dry your hair," you say, taking your time in dropping your hand. "It'll take ages to dry in this humidity."

Jason's eyes have gone wide. Pink splotches bloom on the apples of his cheeks.

"Uh." He swallows. You watch his throat bob. "Thanks. Maybe... next time."

"I'll steal Dick's. He's got the fancy sixteen setting one."

That makes Jason smile. "Hm. Some things never change."

His eyes crinkle at the corners. Fondness swells swiftly in your chest.

You stay like that for a moment, caught in each other's orbit.

Jason breaks it first, leaning away. "Right. You should probably get back to the Manor. Br–the others'll probably think I kidnapped ya."

You shrug. "I quit."

"What?"

"Bruce was getting on my last nerve. I can't work with someone like that."

Jason snorts. "Join the club. Look, I can't say I'm not thrilled that you're stickin' it to the old man. But if this is 'cause of me... I wouldn't be mad if you kept workin' with him. Honest. If that's what you wanna do, don't let me stop you."

"Jason." You rest your hand atop his. "I joined this life because of you. To honor you. You taught me how to help people, not Bruce. You taught me what it meant to be kind, to be a part of something bigger than myself."

To love, you don't say.

"I..." He shakes his head. "You became Nocturne for me?"

You close your eyes, then open them. You've cried so many times. You don't want to stay in your grief any longer. Not when he's right in front of you.

"When you died, I..." You take a deep breath. "Nocturne was something to ground me. I think Bruce recognized that. I think he knew how much you meant to me. He didn't have to take a chance on me, and I appreciate that he did. But I've realized that he doesn't know everything. Can't see what's right in front of him sometimes."

You squeeze Jason's wrist. He sighs.

"God, I'm sorry," he says.

"What're you sorry for, Jay? You came back. That's all I ever wanted."

Jason chews his cheek for a moment. Then he stands, chair scraping the floor.

"C'mon," he says.

You follow him to the living room. He moves the armchair, the couch, and rolls up the rug. He disappears down the hall and returns with two thick mats. He tosses them onto the floor.

"Uh..." you say. "What're you—"

"'M gonna show you what y'did wrong that night on the roof."

"Wow. Can't believe you're still single. Being reminded of my shitty combat skills gets me so hot."

Jason rolls his eyes. "Alright, smartass. Just 'cause you quit the Bats doesn't mean you won't go out there and keep helping people. I know you. The least I can do is pick up where Dickface left off in your training."

"The least you can do, huh? I think you just wanna pin me against the floor again," you say, smirking.

He clears his throat. "That—no."

"No?" You step closer and look at him through your lashes. You're so close, you're touching his chest. "What happened to tying me up 'cause I was out when I shouldn't have been? Isn't that another educational technique?"

Jason's throat bobs. "That wasn't—I was just saying things."

"Hm. That's too bad."

You skip right past him, onto the mat, and hold out your arms.

"Okay. Put the moves on me, J.P."

It takes Jason a moment to craft his usual poker face. When he does, he groans. "'M not an evil Gilded Age financier. Still don't like 'J.P.'"

"But you like me-ee," you sing-song.

He shrugs. "Sometimes. Until you give me a heart attack and run into a burning building."

"Wish I could've seen your face for that one," you say as you steel your shoulders and secure your feet.

"Better you didn't. I'm sure there was a vein or two popping outta my forehead." Jason cracks his neck. "Ready?"

"Lay it on me, big guy."

"You first. Attack me like you normally would."

So you do. You step forward and throw a punch similar to the one from your rooftop spar. Jason catches it, of course. But this time, he locks you in a hold. One leg is between yours, and your arms are twisted behind your back with one hand. Humiliating.

"Dude!" You wiggle. Jason doesn't yield. "Jay, come on. No petty criminal is gonna know how to do all that."

"I know. The point of this is for you to know how to use someone's size against them."

Jason presses his cheek against yours. You tamp down your shiver. You can hear his heartbeat.

"Take a breath," he murmurs.

You close your eyes and breathe. Jason's grip doesn't hurt, but you're frustrated by how predictable you are. How he knows your body. A part of you is missing in not knowing him the way he knows you.

"Alright," he says. "Think. What part of me is exposed?"

"Not the important parts, I hope."

You can feel his eyeroll.

"You're hilarious. C'mon, focus. What can you attack?"

"Um... your legs. You trapped my arms, but my and your legs are free."

"Good." The praise warms you. Being this close to Jason will never get old. "What else?"

"What else? Do you have a tail I don't know about?"

"Sucha wiseass," he says, mouth close to your ear. "Your head. You're still able to move your head, and you're close to my face."

"Yeah, I'm not headbutting you. Out of the kindness of my heart."

"I appreciate that, sweets. Sweep my leg."

So you do. Jason goes down easier than he normally would for your benefit.

"'Kay," he says, once again underneath you. Now you have his hands pinned. "Good. Remember what went wrong last time?"

"You bucked me off like a Clydesdale."

He smiles. "Yeah, okay. So what'll you do different?"

"I'm not in my suit," you say. "I don't have extra weight in my boots."

"No, but you don't need it if you keep my legs apart."

"So that was your plan all along, huh? Perv."

Jason coughs. "Ah-hum... I—c'mon, lock my legs."

You grin and spread Jason's legs, using your knees to keep him immobile.

And then you just stare. This time, it's not because you're thinking about the miracle of resurrection (though what a miracle it is). No, you're just thinking, once again, about how your best friend got really, stupidly pretty.

And how you really, stupidly wanna kiss him.

Jason still looks young, but his jaw is now defined. He's got a five o'clock shadow coming on. His lips are full and pink. Freckles dot his cheeks and nose. The nose that still has a bump from when he broke it during a fight with Riddler.

You remember how he played it off for weeks. Bruce said that didn't even cry. But when you asked if it hurt, Jason had said yes.

You wonder when the last time Jason cried was. You wonder how much pain he's suffered since.

You wonder if he knows he's got your heart in the palm of his hand.

"Hey," Jason says. His voice is soft. Shy. "I lose ya again?"

You shake your head. "No. Never."

"There somethin' on my face?"

"You're a lot to look at," you say. "Pretty, pretty boy."

That gets an undeniable reaction. Jason Todd has never been able to take a compliment. You've been exploiting that all day.

Perhaps you know him better than you thought.

He exhales sharply, like you've sucker-punched him. His eyes dart to you. Waiting.

"Your eyes are green," you say. "Like, mixed. Blue and green."

Jason nods. "I—yeah. The Pit. Changed 'em. Changed me."

You lean in. His gaze flicks to your mouth. You watch his Adam's apple bob in a hard swallow.

"They're still pretty," you say. "Always had pretty eyes, Jaybird."

"Heh, right. Even with this shit?" He points to the scar that crosses over his right eye, stopping at his lip.

You let go of his wrists—not that you were holding them that tightly anyway. If this were a real fight, you would've lost ten times over already. Considering how much of you is touching Jason, you happen to be winning hard.

You trace the puckered white flesh with your thumb. Jason flinches but doesn't pull away.

"Your face could never turn me away," you say. "Never."

He closes his eyes and shudders. "Y'too nice to me. Always so nice t'me. Even when we were fighting. Why're ya so good?"

Your lips are a hair from his now. "I don't know how to make it more obvious, Jaybird. I'm absolutely insane about you."

Jason's eyes fly open. He sees your mouth and his breathing increases. You smile.

"Yeah, want you bad. No place I wouldn't follow you. Do anything for you."

Jason makes a strangled noise in his throat. You grin.

"C'mon, big guy. I'm right here. Come have me, Jay. I'm yours."

Jason soars up and kisses you. Swallows you, really. His hands hold your waist for dear life. You wrap one leg around his.

You nip his lip. Jason whines softly. Delicious.

You grab his face, fingers tangling in his curls. Jason sits up, slotting you against him. One hand supports you on your back, the other on your side.

"God—" He breaks away, just barely. "You're way too good for me. Had sucha... sucha crush on ya when we were kids. Y'so sweet."

You blindly find his throat and bite, hard enough to leave a mark. Jason makes a guh sound. You lick the bite to soothe it.

"Missed you," you say into his skin. "Missed you so goddamn bad, Jason."

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah," he babbles, clinging to you as you kiss up his neck. "Yeah, missed you too."

"Not letting you go," you say, almost snarling. You're angry with want, angry at the world for keeping this from you for so many years. "It's you and me now, Jay, mkay? Gonna be mine?"

"Always been yours," he says, panting. Jason finds your lips again. The kiss is messy, uncoordinated. Full of love. "No one but you."

You haven't fallen behind. You're starting anew.

"Never been anybody but you."

[flowercrowngods]

@steddie-week

part 1 (bc this is one big 7 part story)

day 02: bittersweet & angst

1 new message

eddie The Problem munson: engagement party on saturday babyyyy 🥳🥸🕺

Steve’s been staring at the message for two days now. It's sitting in his notifications, staring at him like a painful reminder of what happened exactly seven days ago. A week. It's only been a week, and Steve somehow it feels like it was both only one day or seven months ago.

It's an almost liminal experience, walking through life without texting Eddie every second of the day – because texting him would mean opening his message. It would make this real.

And that's the last thing Steve wants.

"I'm not going," Robin declares as they're cuddling on the couch, wallowing in their misery as Mayday Parade's Oh Well, Oh Well is playing for the eighth time on repeat. "Tell me you're not going, Stevie."

"Robbie," he sighs, squeezing her tighter as she tries to wriggle out of his arms to glare at him.

"Steve."

"I can't not go."

"Yes you can." She pokes him in the ribs, but he doesn't budge. She pokes him again. "Not going to things is literally the easiest thing in the world. It's a hundred times easier than going to things. You should try it sometime, trust me. You go to too many things, and–"

"Bee," he hums to get her out of the rambling spiral before she can get lost in it.

"What I'm saying," he interrupts herself dramatically, "is that you can't do this to yourself. They're engaged. They're getting married. We're going to keep our distance until our brains and hearts and the traitorous little chemicals in our bodies catch up to reality, and then we get over them, and then we can go back and see them ever again. That's the logical thing to do, Steve. But you can't... You can't just go and get your heart broken and talk yourself into thinking it's the right thing to do. It's not."

Steve sighs into her hair and buries his face in her neck. He knows that. Technically, logically, he does.

But not going feels wrong. Wronger than anything else that's been hollowing out his chest and leaving nothing but emptiness and the ghosts of every smile, every touch, every baby, love, sweetheart, sunshine. Every imaginary future, every scenario where Eddie meant it. Meant those words, meant those smiles, meant it when he took Steve's hand to hold it.

But Eddie did mean it. Every time, he meant it; because he calls Argyle and Jeff and Gareth baby and sunshine and sweetheart, too. He takes their hands, too, leans in to kiss their cheeks and just holds them when he needs to. That's just the kind of person Eddie is. Always has been.

To go and assume he never meant it would be unfair.

To go and hope it could ever mean more when Chrissy has always been right there would just be stupid.

Well, good thing Steve has that kind of reputation with a few people anyway, so it's not even a statistical outlier, that one. It's not even worth a side note.

"I know," he rasps, his eyes beginning to sting as the next lyrics are carved into the empty space of where his heart used to be.

Oh well, oh well I can't live with myself As I'm climbing in your window to get to your bed.

And I'll be what you need, You can call me anything. Just as long as we're still friends.

Tears prickle in his eyes and he doesn't bother to hold them back. Not now, not with Robin. They've both been crying on and off all week, even though Robin took it better than him.

"I know," he sobs, wrapping his arms around her even tighter as she lets herself be held because she knows that's what he needs. "I know, I know, I know. But I have to. I can't just... I can't just stop, Bee."

"I know," she sighs, climbing out of his hold eventually to wrap her arms around him in return as he cries into her shoulder.

The world (read: his Spotify playlist) makes it worse by playing Sum 41's With Me next, ripping out even the newly carved words.

Robin holds him for the rest of the night, even as he finally opens Eddie's message and types out a reply.

—I'll come!

And especially when there's a new message immediately.

—hot 🥵❤️

He leaves Eddie on read after that.

~*~

Saturday rolls around in a haze, and suddenly Steve finds himself looking at the front door of the little house Chrissy inherited after her mother passed a few years ago. It's a nice little house. Quaint. Perfect. Everything Steve could ever dream of, actually. And she deserves it. All of this and more.

There's noise coming from the garden, where people are laughing and having a great time. A happy time, celebrating their friends and all the good things in life that come with a love well placed.

God, what is he doing here? He can't do this. There is no way.

He's just about to pull out his phone and call Robin, tell her he's coming home, or ask her to tell him everything's gonna be alright, when–

"Steve!" Chrissy hurries towards him, throwing her arms around him in a tight, warm, perfect hug. God, he loves her so much. He melts right into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her middle to spin her around with a grin.

She giggles in delight and tells him to let her down again, which only makes him spin for another round, his grin turning into a genuine laugh.

"No, I hate you!" she laughs, but still doesn't step away from him when he puts her down again. Instead, she leans up and brushes a kiss to his cheek. "Hi, asshole."

"Hi."

He grins and takes her hands in his, just smiling at her for another moment before his eyes trail down to a ring he's never seen her wear before. Ah. Right.

"Oh shit! That it?"

"That's it," Chrissy says, looking down at her hand to look at the ring with a fond, happy little smile, her cheeks flushing red. It breaks Steve a little, but it also fixes something inside him to see her so truly, genuinely happy. "Pretty huh?"

"Very," Steve breathes, hiding the lump in his throat with a sound of awe.

Chrissy hugs him again for good measure and then takes his hand to drag him into the backyard the same way she just came out front, through a little gate off to the side instead of through the house.

Steve loves their backyard because it's always covered in sheerly endless colourful strings of light that are wrapped around decorative arches or poles, framing the back doors and the canopy swing set on the lawn, and just give it the most homey and comfortable atmosphere.

"Stevie!" Eddie exclaims immediately and jumps off from his chair, interrupting a conversation he's apparently been having with Argyle and Nancy to run up to him with such a giddy expression that Steve wants to cry. His heart leaps in his chest, coming back to life and saying one last goodbye at the same time.

"Hi," he says, hugging Eddie close before he can so much as think about what he's doing. But no matter how hurt he is, there will never be a world in which he won't want to hug Eddie Munson. "Sorry I'm late."

"No sorries, it's fine," Eddie murmurs into his neck, staying in the embrace endlessly, and Steve takes the chance to breathe him in. He smells so good. So, so good. It clogs his lungs and renders him unable to speak.

But who needs to speak when they have Eddie in their arms? Who needs to speak when all they have to do is never let go?

Eddie squeezes him a little tighter, and Steve wants to cry. He slowly, gently pushes away from the hug and turns towards the other guests, greeting them with a grin, a hug, or a handshake if they're not familiar.

When he gets to Wayne, the man eyes him with a look that Steve doesn't want to read too much, and his embrace is just a little longer, just a little stronger than usual.

“You look tired, son,” he says by way of greeting, and Steve can’t help but snort and shake his head a little.

“Good to see you again, too, old man.”

Wayne eyes him for one moment longer, then breaks into a small smile and pats Steve’s shoulder before stepping around him to go grab another drink.

After that, the night passes in a blur of talking to his friends, trying to understand what the hell it is that has Nancy and Argyle arguing so profusely, but with smiles on their faces. He fails. But it’s good to see them again, so he just basks in it for a while.

Or, he tries, because every second that he’s not talking or listening to someone, his eyes flick back to Eddie. Eddie, who’s lifting Chrissy from behind and smacking a loud, wet kiss to her neck, her jaw and her cheek, accompanied by her delighted squeals and laughter.

Eddie, who’s looking larger than life, a happy grin permanently plastered on his face as he reminds their guests that Chrissy was his bisexual awakening.

“I swear, she just swept me off my feet after years of thinking I was only into dudes. Knew I had to marry her, but man, I don’t know why she said yes.”

“I’m settling, honey,” Chrissy calls from the other end of the table they’re sitting around. “Only in it for that rockstar money and all.”

The whole table laughs at that.

“Hear, hear,” Eddie snorts, lifting his glass in a toast. Steve and the others lift theirs, too, even though Steve’s hand and arm and whole body feels numb and he’s not entirely sure he’s breathing.

A while later, he grabs a drink and retreats to the canopy swing, illuminated in the soft pink flow of the fairy lights wrapped around it. Eddie’s eyes land on him for a second and Steve thinks that he’ll come over and join him — but then one of Chrissy’s friends says something that distracts him and seemingly makes him fall into a monologue of sorts.

Steve watches, feeling only loss and longing as he does. Eddie is a force of nature. A spectacle. Something beautiful, something powerful, something secret that only a select few get to witness. To know. To appreciate.

Staring as he is, blind to the rest of the world, he startles a little when the swing jostles with another weight settling on it. He didn’t see Wayne coming to join him, and he’s not quite sure whether he should be grateful for the company or apprehensive of what the man who’s like a father to him might have to say.

“How are you doing, son?”

He frowns. “I’m alright.”

Wayne only hums, and Steve’s frown deepens. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that tells him Wayne knows something. That he knows.

“Y’know,” he continues after a while, not looking at Steve but rather at his nephew and his fiancée. “I always figured it would be you.”

Steve crumbles. Yeah, me too, he wants to say, but that would be a lie. Watching the way Chrissy sits on Eddie’s lap with his arms around her, his chin on her shoulder as he tells her something that makes her laugh that cute, pretty, adorable laugh that Eddie then can’t help but join — that’s just something Steve would never compare to. Nothing he’d ever want to come in between.

Eddie and Chrissy are perfect. They’re happy. They fit, they match, they work. They worked so hard and treat each other so right.

They look giddy and serene at the same time, and it makes Steve’s eyes sting. Because he can never make Eddie look like that. He can never make Eddie look at him like that.

I always figured it would be you.

But he couldn’t. That bubbly kind of love, the sunshine kind of love. He knows that’s not for him. Steve’s too much for that. He would never be enough for Eddie — even if without Eddie, there’s nothing left of him.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Wayne continues, unaware of Steve’s thought spiral. “I love that girl, I do. Always will. I think she’s too good for Eddie. Don’t tell him I said that,” he adds hastily, and Steve smiles through the tears that threaten to fall again.

“They’re perfect,” he rasps, laughing wetly as Chrissy starts chasing Eddie, who’s hiding behind a very distressed Argyle, who just wants his brochachos to chill!

Maybe it’s a laugh, maybe it’s a sob. He doesn’t have it in him to find out or care.

“They are. Doesn’t mean they’re right, son.”

Steve sighs and tears his eyes away from Eddie. “Wayne.”

“I know, I know.” He lifts his hands in defence. “Shutting up.” After a long pause of holding Steve’s eyes, he asks, “Will you be okay?”

No, he thinks immediately, the lump in his throat too big to say anything. So he just shrugs and swallows. “Sure.”

Maybe. Hardly. Probably not. Definitely not.

"No matter what happens, you'll always be a son to me. You’ll always have a home with an open door with me, you hear me?"

"I’m not going anywhere, wayne," Steve says, though for the first time ever he doesn't really believe that. Maybe he needs to leave. To leave Eddie behind. Get over him. Cut out his heart and leave it here, run away to heal somewhere else, come back as a new person, or just stay away forever.

The thought makes a tear spill as an empty kind of desperation spreads it’s ugly wings inside his chest, and he's too frozen to wipe it away.

"You hear me?" Wayne repeats, gentler this time, but no less urgent for it.

"Yeah," steve rasps. "Thanks."

Another tear falls as Eddie gently pulls Chrissy closer to him and kisses her in the soft glow of the fairy lights above and around them. Their friends cheer. Steve wants to cry his heart out again.

“I—“ he swallows, wiping at his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. I can’t do this, he wants to say. For the first time, that’s what he wants to say. “I think I’m gonna head home soon.”

“You bring your car?”

He shakes his head, feeling foggy and dazed and empty and endlessly, endlessly sad. “Was gonna, uh—“

“Let me drive you.” There’s no room for debate or argument there, and Steve wants to crumble again, but still he shakes his head.

“Wayne, no—“

“I’m taking you, son. Make sure you get home safe, or I won’t be able to sleep tonight. Don’t wanna keep your old man up all night, do ya?”

Steve concedes with a fond eye roll and a grateful smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“That’s what I thought.”

They sit like that for another ten minutes — and if Steve leans into Wayne’s side a little, then that’s nobody’s business but theirs.

The car ride is quiet, but it feels weighted even as Wayne pretends not to see the way Steve keeps wiping at his cheeks as the silent tears keep falling, leaving him powerless to stop them.

I can’t do this, he keeps thinking over and over again.

“Just a little warning,” Wayne speaks up again as he pulls up to Steve’s building. “I think he’s going to ask you to be his best man, Stevie. Don’t do anything you’re not ready for, okay?”

I can’t do this.

He nods, numb again.

“I’ll do anything for him,” he breathes.

“That’s what I’m afraid of, yeah.”

He gets out of the car before he can find out what exactly Wayne means by that. The car stays where it is until the front door closes behind him, until he’s up in his bedroom and finds Robin already asleep.

Ten minutes later, he cuddles close to her and tries hard not to cry, but tonight’s memories have burned themselves into his mind. And he shouldn’t have gone. He knows. He knows.

I’ll do anything. I can’t do this. I’ll do anything. I can’t do this.

He can’t breathe, and Robin holds him through it, whispering sleepily to him as he cries himself to sleep, wishing for a world where he’s not absolutely and utterly in love with Eddie Munson, but failing to imagine one.

I’ll do anything. Anything but this.

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen come back tomorrow for idk which prompt | read part 3 here

[ddejavvu]

thinking ab spencer fucking you and you being so loud bc like it's so fucking good??? obviously?? and he's like so surprised like is it actually that good or you exaggerating 🤨and you're just like why did you stop and getting all whiny :(( but no he's just literally a sex god <33 maybe this is s7 spence 🫢🫢 or s1-2?? anyways can you tell i NEED him really bad

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Spencer thinks the way that your nails dig into his back is a bit much. It's not that he doesn't like it, of course, he does. But he can't fathom why you're doing it.

What had started as sensitive mewls and stifled gasps into the skin of his neck have now become long, desperate, wanton moans, all flowing straight south to his cock that's pistoning in and out of your stretched cunt. He's trying to keep himself steady, trying not to lose control and get sloppy, but the more overzealous your noises become, the harder it is to keep himself in check.

He's nervous, He wants to enjoy himself, he wants to get lost in his pleasure, but he has to make sure you're having a good time. He hears you, he hears the way your voice gets louder and feels the way that your nails scrape up his back when he mouths at your neck, but he isn't confident enough in himself to believe that your reaction is a genuine one. He wants to believe that your screams are authentic, but when you frantically mumble 'don't stop don't stop don't stop!' into his neck, he knows you're faking it.

He stops

Your eyes fly open and your mouth accompanies it, horror in your eyes, "I said don't stop!"

"You're.. you're faking it," His brows are furrowed as he stares down at you, "Don't fake it."

"i'm not faking anything," You gush through a sob, tears gathering at your eyeline as he stops dead in his movements, "Please, Spence, keep going! I need- need you!"

"I can't be that good." He reasons, hands still braced on your hips, "I- I've never done this before. Seriously, don't lie, I- you don't have to fake it."

The fire in your eyes surprises him, but what surprises him the most is when you yank him down by the back of his neck, your lips brushing his as you speak.

"Spencer Reid," You hiss, "You are fucking phenomenal. Now put your dick back inside of me, or I'll tie you up to this fucking headboard and do it myself."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I asked my mom to stop keto-fying recipes?

this is either gonna be a complete non-issue or get people mad at me, i can tell lmao. unfortunately this has been bugging me for weeks. :D

To be clear, I'm almost 25, but I and my adult/teenage siblings still live with my parents bc the economy is ass. Also, Mom hasn't been doing it to every recipe…yet…but the ones she has changed have been recipes where a carbohydrate is an important part of the main meal.

For instance, replacing the potatos in a beef-carrot-potato stew with a rutabaga.

Mom's been on a modified keto diet for a while now, and while Dad is the only one intentionally doing it with her, the rest of us are aware of her diet and are generally chill about it. For a while, we would have nights where the parents would have Thing A, which was diet-compliant, and the rest of us would have Thing B, which was not. Those of us who are not dieting are all old enough to make things for ourselves, by the way, and that's usually what happens. For most of these "split meals," one parent usually doesn't wind up cooking two meals, one of which they can't even eat.

The stew is usually a "split" meal that gets made by one person who does most of the prep just by virtue of knowing the recipe, then one person who peels and chops the potatoes, and then one who wrangles the peeling and chopping of the rutabaga. The rutabaga then gets combined with a proportionate amount of The Rest, and those of us who aren't dieting are welcome to taste-test it. I've tried it, and the rutabaga's okay, I guess, but quite a bit too sweet and non-safe-food-y for me in the context of the stew, especially when I'm so used to potatoes. Wrangling the rutabaga is a bit more fun than eating it.

…except the most recent time we had the stew, Mom and Dad made an executive decision and just made a full-family pot of rutabaga stew without really seeing if everyone else was on board with it. Two of my siblings seemed fine with it, one is an enigma on a good day so I don't even know how they felt about it, and I hated it. I didn't get the chance to say so, however, between everyone else complimenting the altered stew and the conversation quickly switching to something else.

Unfortunately, our parents have decided that we will be making the stew with rutabagas only going forward.

Not "the family has decided."

The parents have decided. For adults and a teenager. Not for little kids.

Since then, in other conversations where recipes come up, such as conversations about the teenager's recent baking kick, Mom has been mentioning keto versions of whatever's being talked about in the nonspecific way that I'm pretty sure is her hinting/telling us that we should make it. In the context of teen baking, a keto chocolate cake, or keto cookies.

Look, I'm not here to debate the worth of a diet or lack thereof. I have plenty of those opinions and I'm not going to change them or let them distract from the core of the matter: when any of us are making food for the others, why are we letting two people's diets dictate what the rest of us should eat? If we're making something specifically to align with the keto diet, then that's a parent snack/meal. If we're not, it's a "kids" snack/meal. It should be as simple as that. Why make a full-family-sized meal if it's going to be pushing low/no carbs onto people who, historically, have not wanted to or needed to drop carbs? (It's me, I'm people. I know, I'm not really subtle, am I?)

I'm considering, the next time the stew comes up as a dinner plan, asking what a single-sized portion of the potatoes would be and just making it for myself. Given I have the spoons to do so that night, anyway. However, I really don't want to insult Mom's family recipe (which…she's already altered…and I would be reverting to its previous state…) or her cooking skills (which haven't lessened, even if I personally think her ingredient choices are a bit lacking lately).

What are these acronyms?

[miumura]

( 🎬 ) — KNOW ME ; HEESEUNG SHORT FIC

“ this liquors got me faded, talking crazy ”

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 spending a night with your drunk best friend makes you realize you don’t know them as well as you think you do. because, if you knew him, you would’ve known about his feelings for you.

— PAIRING best-friend!hee x best-friend!fem!reader

— GENRE angst, one sided love (or is it), friends 2 ???

— WARNINGS INSPIRED BY “KNOW ME” BY DPR LIVE, drinking n hee gets drunk (reader doesnt)

— WORD COUNT 0.8K+ ( 863 )

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 hi guys 😊🤍 back on that angst writing grind (i may or may not have lied) bc i love angst !!! anyways i love love love know me by dpr live 😜

Heeseung had a particularly stressful day, prompting him to drown his worries in alcohol during your planned hangout. You've observed his increasing tension over the past few days, leading to the drinking session. Hesitant to pry, you intervened as he reached for another shot, expressing concern about his consumption. "Isn't this your fourth bottle? That seems like quite a lot, don't you think?"

"No, it isn't," he hiccupped, attempting to retrieve the bottle as you evaded his grasp.

"You don't have a high alcohol tolerance, Hee," you chuckled, observing him rest his head on the table. Concerned, you asked, "What's been bothering you lately? Is it work?"

“Do you really think it’s because of work?” Heeseung raised his head, glasses slipping down, purple hair almost covering his eyes. With a flushed face, he maintained intense eye contact. Confused, you responded, "Huh?"

"Do you trust what I say?" he slurred, the effects of alcohol evident in his words.

"Of course I do—why wouldn't I?" you reassured.

"Maybe you shouldn't," he mumbled. Perplexed, you asked, "Hee, what are you saying?"

"How much do you think you know about me?" he posed a sudden question, causing you to pause. “Do you even know me?”

"I think I know a lot. I know of your favorite drink, our favorite show, your ice cream order—everything I should know. What don't I know?" you responded.

"How much I think and stress about you. How I look at you, how I take care of you, how I pay so much attention to you…If you knew me—you’d know that too." he admitted, slumping back against the wall and closing his eyes. Stunned by the unexpected confession, you froze. "I don't... I don't understand what you mean by that."

"I worry about us, mainly I worry about myself. Why? Because you're all I think about," he continued, his honesty cutting through the room. You listened, sensing the urgency of what he needed to let out of his chest.

Heeseung took a deep breath, grappling with the unspoken. Feeling his eyelids droop, he still continues on. "There are things I've never shared, thoughts that consume me. I know we promised to be there for each other when we needed anything, and I'm sorry for breaking it. But, I really couldn't find a way to tell you this. I need you to understand that I've tried my best to ignore these feelings, but I can't."

Opening his eyes, he held your gaze. "I think I like you, YN." The revelation hung in the air, leaving the room charged with unspoken emotions.

“You like me?”

“Yeah. I fell deep. I fell for everything about you–your smile, your jokes, your calmness, everything. You’re practically perfect. Just…just give me a chance you love you right.”

Heeseung's revelation weighed heavily on you, rendering you momentarily speechless. His intense gaze held yours, making it challenging to find the right words. After a gulp, you broke eye contact and finally uttered, "Wow, Hee... I'm at a loss for words. I don’t even know what to say." The room resonated with the gravity of unspoken emotions, and uncertainty hung thick in the air.

"What do you mean?" Heeseung wore a confused expression, not expecting this response. This was not like those sweet drunken confessions—had he perhaps drunk too much? You intervened, cutting through his thoughts.

"I really appreciate that you are being honest with me—and I wish you would’ve told me sooner," you expressed, your eyes slightly glimmering, your stomach tying itself into knots. Was he going to get the answer he yearned for?

"Because?" Heeseung slurred, staring at you, hopeful for those sweet words. A heavy silence descended upon the room, carrying the weight of unspoken feelings and the acknowledgment of a friendship forever altered.

"But Hee, you know I can't love you back," you whispered, the truth hanging heavily in the air.

Heeseung froze. "Oh." The disappointment in his voice echoed through the room, marking the poignant end of a hope that had lingered in the unspoken spaces between you. He was just confused. What did you both know?

Heeseung never wanted to be pushy, but the words eventually spilled out. "Did you…find someone better? Or don’t feel the same way…?" He just wanted closure.

"Heeseung, you're drunk," you frowned slightly, a sad glint in your eyes that couldn't go unnoticed.

"So?" he hiccuped.

"I’ll...I’ll tell you later, yeah? Let’s just get you home." As you were about to get up, Heeseung's shoulders slumped as he sighed, a sense of disappointment and vulnerability washing over him. "I just needed to be honest with you, YN...so why can’t you be honest with me?”

"I'm glad you're honest with me…" you said as you put his coat onto him, watching him look up at you as you did so. “And I can’t tell you right now. You just—you just deserve way better.”

"So you’re telling me that I'll just have to find someone who will love me like I do for you, right?" Heeseung managed a faint smile, though sadness lingered in his eyes. “If that’s what you want.”

"I'm sorry, Heeseung," you apologized, the weight of the moment palpable. Your vision was slightly getting blurrier by the second. "I really am."

ENHA PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @hyeosi @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @isoobie @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz

[unmaskingdisability]

So you want to die (but shouldn't do that)

A list of ways I force myself to keep going even when my entire body is on fire & my brain feels like it's going through a cheese grater

MAKE A PLAN WITH SOMEONE YOU ACTUALLY LIKE - Not a friend you have to gear yourself up to hang out with. A good friend, that will cost low spoons, and plan to do something you enjoy. Nothing extravagant that requires a lot of energy, and it doesn't even have to be in the imminent future. Make a dinner plan for next week and think about that lilac lemonade you've been wanting to make for them. Make a plan to hang out later this month and watch anime with your friend that's good at bullshitting and making you laugh. You won't want to do this when you can't imagine leaving your bed. Do it anyways.

DRAG YOUR EXHAUSTED ASS OUTSIDE - Dress in as many layers as you need or just wrapped in a blanket. Wear sunglasses and headphones if you need. Don't force yourself to do anything, except being outside for at least a few minutes. Sometimes it's cold and wet and all I can handle is walking out for a minute. Sometimes it's warmer and pleasant and now I'm exhausted slumped in the sun or under a pine tree instead of in a dark dirty (mine is anyways bc of the wanting to die and pain) room

VENT - Look I'm the master hypocrite. I run a disability group and I still haven't told pretty much anyone in my life I had to quit my job after my body broke down too far too fast. I advocate emotional vulnerability all day and will legitimately enact it constantly, about everything except how fucking miserable and hopeless and depressed and in pain and scared I am. You don't want to tell anyone because you're convinced they already hate you or are about to leave. I'm not gonna say you need to get over that tonight. But you gotta get it out of your head and your muscles and your body. You've gotta write or draw or splash paint (I will literally fingerpaint just colors sometimes) or hack up invasive plants or make poetry or cry to the person you do feel comfortable talking to. You've gotta get it out You've gotta get it out and also! If being honest about your life and difficulties does push people away fuck them!! Community is everything and that's something they never were, so it's space for something real

GO SOMEWHERE NEW AND BEAUTIFUL - This is one of the hardest things to do when depressed, but if helps so much when you can get yourself somewhere new & exciting and show your brain good things are still happening. For me, this looks like going to a new park, or science/art museum, or to see some pretty lights strung up for the holidays. Nowhere so crowded or busy it'll be too overwhelming, you just need to show your brain everything isn't awful static and get some dopamine pumping.

I'll keep adding to this because I'm full of too much spite and exhaustion and reluctant extreme caring so much to leave you all alone in this shithole

[thegreenthepeacetheorange]

Everlark (Mockingjay, Ch. 25-27)

peeta also being in the burn unit bc he was in the city circle

what i personally believe is that he's the one who tried to put out the fire that overwhelmed katniss, hence his own burnt hands and forehead

her using peeta's coping mechanism of pain to stay grounded in reality

when katniss talks about all the people she trusts being said, she highlights that there is peeta but he wouldn't know any more than her about 13's plans.

"we are both fire mutts now" - still a (broken) team

"those same blues" mentioned again

haymitch understanding katniss. the dad that stepped up. i love that he says "i'm with the mockingjay" instead of "yes"

katniss being our fave feral girl by literally biting into peeta's hand as he stops her from taking her nightlock

the fact that when she says "let me go", our baker boy with the beautiful words and the charm can only say "i can't"

just another instance where these can't let each other go. has anyone made a counter for these instances?

peeta is well and truly back. to do that. to know he can't let her go. that even when she bites him so hard he bleeds, he just looks into her eyes and lets her know he can't let her die

the fact that after the way katniss was used in the games and then in the rebellion, afterwards when she's damaged and broken and bruised and they have no more use for her, she's just sent off to 12

"there's no obstacle now to taking my life. but i seem to be waiting for something" - the same way peeta kept his hand open with the nightlock pill waiting for katniss to curl over his hand for him, katniss waits for peeta's permission to die

i love that she doesn't even mention peeta by name when she sees he's returned. we just know instinctively that he's the "him" that's back.

peeta says dr aurelius wouldn't let him leave the capitol til the day before which makes me think peeta had really been trying to be discharged to get back to katniss.

"his eyes have lost that clouded, tortured look"

katniss who understandably has fallen into physical disrepair over the last two chapters now feels "defensive" as peeta looks at her, frowning, and tries to push her hair out of her eyes somewhat. her relationship is SO different to the one she has with everyone else. and that's because it's really the only one where she's concerned with romance and her looks etc

peeta digging up and bringing her primrose. the boy with the bread is still here bringing gifts that can't have a price put on them. he is the sweetest most beautiful fictional boy

katniss is relieved that gale is in 2, far away. that era of her life is over, that friendship is over.

although she's still confusing right to end. why are you thinking about gale's lips kissing other lips. i think it's just like her finding closure but still.

katniss falling asleep on the sofa but waking up in her bed. we can guess who got her there

it's only after peeta comes back that katniss starts to hunt, find closure, grieve with others.

peeta bringing her a warm loaf of bread again.

them taking the family plant book and creating a new book to honour and remember the dead. her, peeta and haymitch creating their own makeshift family book. so tragic so beautiful

"peeta and i grow back together" - like it was inevitable.

But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that. So after, when he whispers, “You love me. Real or not real?” I tell him, “Real.”

i love how simple and matter of fact this whole passage is. she doesn't need to go into flowery descriptions or explanations. she's already done that for three books.

i just love this whole passage so much. so much hope. so much love. after all that's happened, katniss learns to live again, to hope again, to love again, to see goodness again. and peeta is a key to her achieving that. and it's so beautiful

as an adult, i now know that this scene is alluding to their first time having sex. the mentions of his arms that build to his lips that build to her hunger from the beach that night. "so after" is after that night, that moment in their relationship where things become elevated in a new way.

him whispering that is not him asking her to declare it or say it. he's asking her to confirm what he feels, has felt. that she loves him. and she knows now her answer forever. real.

[thegnomelord]

hi, me again. the cruise is fairly okayish for me but my husband (HUSBAND 🥰🥴🥴🥰😍😻😻😍🥰🥴) loves it

uhh moose price (can you tell i like price). moose are pretty like violent or dangerous creatures so he’d be very clash-y. BUT. this only applies if they’re in fall rut or are a female with babies…take that as you will.

oh god im such a monster fucker leviathan ghost (GHOST LEVIATHAN?? SUBNAUTICA MENTION) (sorry). hes jsut so big and 😫😫 wet. im wet. im a man sorry im not wet im just getting wet bc im diving. into the ocean i go. i need myself a big merman or shit to fuck my ass??

im in love with the graves cat idea but instead his goofy ass owns a farm and sees this fucking….feral bobcat….like what the fuck you doing out there boy!?!?!?! anyways graves like snatches this fucking bobcat reader and thinks hes a normal cat. he has made this mistake many times before. his shadows are cackling bc he just posted a picture of his new catboy demihuman to the groupchat. that is a bobcat my boy. or even better, cougar. mountain lion that just needs a little loving (or, hes planning on eating graves. boy dinner. take that as you will)

graves again, now with a singular hunting dog. maybe a beagle. its hunting time :) gotta catch fucking turkeys or like doves. hes so proud of his boy when the pup drags back his shot 😊. i would bark for you graves pleas come home i have diabetes for you like in america

please dont mind my rambles i have so many thoughts i cannot contain them

-❀

Good for your husband lol :Dd

Tbh I would love to see moose price with big ass antlers, see him fighting over you cause it's rut and he'll be damned before he lets someone else come near his mate. And also then pushing you down and riding you, horns and face still splattered with his opponent's blood.

I mean good luck for your ass, isn't Ghost Leviathan big as fuck? But same tbh, I'd love to see a big ass mer 141, can you imagine Soap if he was a megalodon merman? Jesus.

Also I am deffo laughing at the cougar reader getting taken in by graves cause he just can't tell the difference between an apex predator demihuman and a normal cat lol. Big 'accidentally adopted a coyote' vibes tbh. Would be funny if he does like a dna test cause you're kiiiiiinda funky looking for a cat demihuman and you keep getting bigger as he continues to take care of you and feed you. Only to figure out, oh shit, you're a damn cougar! While you're laying on top of him, heavy body pinning him down and just purring.

[sugar-omi]

I hate myself for thinking this but, what if MC finds out she’s pregnant and the first thing in her mind is that she’s fucking up Cove’s future. So instead of telling him she just breaks up with him and shuts herself away from him so he can’t convince her that they’ll work it out. Now Cove has no clue why the love of his life just broke his poor heart. Skip to five years later, Cove comes back to surprise visit his dad but surprise there’s MC, Cliff and a little five year old boy that looks way too much like Cove. Like I’m talking copy and paste that’s a little Cove

oh my fucking god.... i. pls i have some thoughts but also OUCH. BIG OUCH

mmm i'm not gonna make a full fic/detailed post... maybe later if we're all itching for some angst or i'm up for causing more heart ache n then i am very much open to expanding on this (already thinking abt cove getting to know his son.... omfg my heart HURTS)

but i wonder how MC "gets away" (for lack 'a better words) with not telling cove about the kid.

because i can tell you right now, cliff and kyra can't know about it and keep it a secret. not for 5 years at least.

so does she beg everyone in her family to keep it a secret? i think that's the best bet. moms would really prefer Not to keep it a secret, but they also can't force you to tell cove...

but i also don't see them letting 5 years without cove at least knowing, go by either... they'd try to keep the secret, but seeing cove's sad face would break them quickly, if not instantly.

also your friends!!! god, they can not keep a secrete to save their life, especially that big. so you can tell them, but expect the news to find its way back to cove in about.. mmm... 4 hours? so yeah....

anyway!!! lets say that your family kept the secret...

i think your son would eventually start asking about his dad. he sees how you and your family react to him, hears all the mumbling about how he looks so much like... "cove"? when you think he's in the other room.

and he sees how sometimes you look sad and how you slowly and tenderly run your fingers through his hair. and how sometimes you tell him "yknow, daddy has hair just like yours."

and when he asks why you're sad, if you respond with something along the lines of "you look just like your dad, thats all."

or even if you say that in response when he asks what his dad looks like (if you haven't shown him pictures), or if he overhears you saying he looks like this "cove" guy

you notice he starts looking at himself more often... maybe even asking, "does daddy have green hair like mine?" "are his eyes really blue, just like mine?" "does he wear glasses too?" and still in awe that he and this man he's never met, but already seems to adore him (as much as a toddler can adore someone they don't know), share the same features.

and if you show him pictures of cove, which i hope you do, but if you don't, don't worry because your son will probably realize "he has green hair like me!!!!" and he'd either run up to enthuse about it or run up to ask him if he's his daddy bc they have the same hair color... or just call him daddy n if anyone tries to argue about it, wdym?! they have the same hair color, what more do you need?!

so hopefully, cove is the only man with specifically seafoam green hair. otherwise, you're shitting yourself every time your son runs off to meet his green-haired-brethern

anyway. I think all your sons questions, and seeing pictures, knowing that he shares so many traits with cove, and seeing you miss him.

oh god, seeing you sad would make him insist so so much on seeing cove.

"if we meet daddy, will you be happy again?"

also can't believe I almost forgot.. your son being sad about not having a dad, and being jealous of other kids for spending time with their dad, etc.

he'd ask you questions about why he doesn't have a dad, n if he does. why isn't he around? and a real heartbreaker.. does daddy hate him? does he not love him? is that why he isn't here?

so I guess that means it's time to go back to sunset bird! and finally explain why you moved away n never looked back, and why you don't talk to anyone but your parents from back then...

now I won't get into everything right now (im a fuckin liar. I can feel a tangent coming on)

but I wanna talk abt how cove would feel, just a bit, and how I think your future with him would look...

I think at first, he'd be really shocked, seeing this carbon copy of his much younger self. the only thing telling him that his 4-5 year old self didn't jump out of one of his many childhood pictures,

is any birthmarks or beauty marks that maybe you have, or the boys hair being curlier than his, or his skin tone, or maybe he has your nose. whatever it is, he knows he's looking at the imperfect combination of you and him.

(cove's heart is beating outta his chest right now, n you're lucky he only stumbles instead of fainting, because this really is a shock... but that deeper part inside of him, that egotistical, primal almost, part of his heart swells up at the thought, the reality. that his son looks mostly, if not entirely like him.)

but after shock, he's sad. I think he'd be really sad, because he realizes that this is why you broke up right? and no matter how in control of your emotions you think you may be, your wide eyes show how afraid, nervous, and sad you are. he knows. he knows without even talking to you and it hurts

and after he gets past the anger and confusion stage, maybe even in between in fact- which would be more natural since, I think he'd feel this all at once but that's besides the point

he'd be really sad he missed all his sons milestones. walking, first words... God he probably dreams about it (when he does eventually fall asleep), and now his heart is tugging at the seams and the seams are RIPPING.

he also starts thinking about how hard it must've been doing it by yourself. and going through all that without him, your partner.

but maybe you didn't rely on him like he relied on you? maybe you didn't trust him like he did you, maybe you just... didn't need him. like he needed you.

you did break up afterall, and you never let him know about the kid until now, so maybe you thought he'd be a failure of a father and nipped it in the bud before disaster struck...

but I also think that's where anger comes in. because you didn't tell him. he didn't have a choice at all.

he knows he had a tendency to hesitate or run away, but he thinks really hard about it, and he knows he wouldn't have ran away from this.

leaving you alone would scare him a lot more than being a father. being a bad or absent father would scare him a lot more than trying to be a good one. knowingly abandoning a life he helped create, would scare him so much more. he wouldn't be able to sleep otherwise.

so while he gets it. he doesn't get why you didn't try.

and if you explain that you worried about ruining his future, he's so upset and so mad because how could you make that choice for him? how could you take on the burden alone?

this is also where confusion merges in, because while the answers are so obvious or easy to guess, he just can't believe it. he doesn't wanna believe it...

now about your future...

cove still loves you. he's loved you his whole life, it's hard to stop even 5 years later... and seeing you, it makes his heart throb because he's dreamed about this for many nights.

you broke up with him without giving any answers. you even up and moved by the end of the week so when he tried to give you space, before talking to you, it was too late. your room was pretty much void of every sign of life.

you took all your treasured items, your clothes- spare some youd been meaning to get rid of, your pictures, your hobby items. everything. he's surprised you didn't just take the bed and frame.

he's surprised you didn't just carve out his heart n take it with you, because if it's still in his chest, why does it feel so hollow?...

it'd take a really long time to even think of a romantic relationship. if at all. maybe cove's even accepted the break up at some point, depending on how long you'd been together. but if you'd been together since you were 13, it's a hard pill to swallow. bc you can put up with his angsty teenage self, what changed...?

I think seeing you be a parent, and so adored by your son, warms up his heart. makes him fall in love a bit at the sight.

it's not instant, he's getting to know you again. and getting to know this life that he didn't even know was waiting for him.

it's a good 2 or 3 years of figuring out this mess until it becomes something that makes sense. or as much sense as it can make. and if there's still something there, no matter how miniscule. it will catch fire.

now about the kiddo... he's so scared. and I hope you took a few days of talking with cove, and prbly cliff n Kyra bc they have a lotta feelings n thoughts on this too, before you try to integrate cove into his life.

it's small. cove meeting you at the park, and either your son is asking cove a billion questions (both abt why the sky is blue, and awkward questions abt why he wasn't present before...)

or he's trying to drag him on the monkey bars (doesn't work, cove's feet are on the ground still....)

or he's sitting silently on the blanket, reading, occasionally showing cove his favorite scene of the picture book or making him pronounce a word

but it does get bigger, it becomes lunch-n-movie dates, spending the night at your house (at your son's insistence. prbly bc he didn't want him to leave after a fun day), then cove taking him out alone..

it's a lot. and sometimes it feels like you're going backwards or that you're not moving at all because it's hard, for awhile. and even though his dad is on speed dial, there's not enough information he can give cove in how to take care of and deal with a kid he just met a few months ago.

especially a kid who already has a bit of personality, is hell on wheels (like most 5 year olds), possibly has many questions n sometimes problems with cove suddenly being here... it's a lot. n cliff can't help with any of it really.

he does get comfortable, eventually. although there's still times when he's sad, sometimes even angry about what happened, and all he's missed out on, he's so so happy to not miss out on anything else.

[hoeforalbedo]

heyy! saw ur post ab scara and i just. my brain is full of him so here:

Scaramouche who would be hella annoying when he wants attention like he’s a fucking cat, knocking shit over on ur desk and being obnoxious bc he likes to see you frustrated (sfw)

Scaramouche who makes you thigh ride him while he works because he likes to see you whimper (nsfw/suggestive)

idk how helpful these r but yeah!

Scaramouche x afab!reader

Summary: Scara is a terrible boss. You hate him but you love him. Modern AU

warnings:mentions of female genitals, sex, making out, cursing, thigh-riding, Scara being a bitch, idk tell me if I missed anything

SFW

Scaramouche is the worst boss you've ever had. Well it is your first time being a secretary for a very large company and of course you plan to be on your best behavior and be a great role model for everyone.

Someone, however, stirs you from going down that path. How can a CEO be so obnoxious?? First, he makes you do most of his work for him. He would give you stacks of papers and expects you to finish it for him when he's the one who should be doing it. "Just stamp my authorization or something. I don't really care what you do with the ones you don't like. Stamp it or not." He would then go out for some coffee or wine, whatever floats his boat.

This man even has the audacity, when he's bored, to sit on your desk, look through the papers, and throw them at every corner of the room. "You're looking quite frustrated, makes me want to annoy you even more," He would smirk.

"I’ll make sure you don’t have that satisfaction then,” You smirk, trying to talk back. You really can't really push him away because he is your boss and he knows it. He enjoys the power over you and he would continue to tease you.

 "Oh please, I’m always good at my own game.” He slaps down a few more files and reaches over to mess up your hair. “I expect you to get this done asap. It's for the conference tomorrow. Better get working, busy bee." He would smirk while he leaves you, huffing and turning red from frustration. 

Even when you’re very busy, he’ll still give you things to do. “Hey busy bee, my office is getting dirty. Sweep and mop it for me.”

“I’m not the janitor,” You would say with an attitude and roll your eyes. He’s always like this.

“I’m still your boss so you can either make you stay overtime or you clean,” He says and he doesn’t really mean it. You, however, were scared because he can and will do that. Honestly, what he wanted was to have you in his office and just look at you. You however, have been playing his game for too long and you plan to bite back.

NSFW

Now you are sweeping up the floor with the broom he provided for you and you would occasionally bend over to sweep under shelves and desks. Your pencil skirt would go up a bit, exposing more of your thigh. Your skirt also perfectly enunciates your ass and Scara would be lying if he said he didn’t have a boner right now.

As for what you saw, you can’t help but think that Scara belongs behind that desk, wearing the most expensive of clothes. He looks very hot with the way he works, when he does decide to. He looks so serious and domineering when he orders and punishes his employees.

You bite your lip as the only place left to sweep is his area. “Excuse me,” You innocently say, your excuse being that you need to sweep under his desk. Scara moves his chair back and you bend over, right in front of him unintentionally seducing him yet you don’t really mind anyways. It’s time that the hating game ends. 

“If you wanted to fuck you could have just said so,” Scaramouche scoffs. His laid back on his office leather chair, tie loosened and a few of the buttons undone. 

You roll your eyes in annoyance and just when you were about to make a cock comeback, you thought of a much better idea. “Thanks for giving me the permission.” And so, you straddle him, to which he did not expect, and you can feel the bulge in his pants against your heat. “Allow me to indulge myself,” You smile and capture his lips in yours. 

Scara gradually eases himself and takes control, placing both hands on your hips as you cup his face. The kiss is sensual and passionate, letting go of all pent up hate and turning it to lust. Love and hate are very much one of the same things.

He slides your skirt up to your stomach and gropes your ass. You moan into his mouth. You're feeling hot with anticipation. He’s so close to where you want him to touch you. You’re soaked, waiting for him to fuck your hole. Scara loops the waist of your underwear on his finger and pulls it down. You aid him, standing up and allowing them to drop onto the floor.

Just when your panties are discarded, a ring from his work phone is heard. It’s an important phone call that he’s been anticipating. Before he picks up the phone, he says, “Oh we’re not done. Ride my thigh and get yourself off. If you are good, then I’ll give you what you want.”

Being the obeying secretary you are, your legs are between his thigh and your clit is directly on the fabric of his pants. You hiss at the sensation but you can’t help but want more. “You know what to do but keep quiet for me. It’s a very important call.”

And so, you are humping his thigh like a desperate whore, burying your face into his neck to keep quiet. As you do so, he’s talking professionally on call putting up the domineering aura as he gives orders.

It’s so hard to grind yourself down. The fabric of his pants only makes you more sensitive every time it brushes your swollen clit. It’s also not enough for you. Although it stimulates you, nothing compares to when you’re getting filled up with a finger circling your bud. 

You’re shaking but you’re also slowing down. Trying to chase a high that wont come. Scara isn’t helping much either. Now he is chatting up the person on the other side of the phone, purposely taking his time with the call. As he does so, a hand holds onto your hip, aiding you to get yourself off.

If only the call would just end. He is sadistic for enjoying watching you act desperate and grinding on his thigh while you hold back moans. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want to leave the call just so that he could watch you get off on just humping him. Lucky for you, he really does want to fuck you and after a while, he got bored of the call and ended it.

“Since you’ve been very good, I’ll fuck you now.”