#forgive me. i am SO fucking tired forever and ever

[martynsimp69]

Are you a fello bigslab shipper

late 2 answer this bc ive been so busy and i wanted to write up a whole thing abt the post bu the tl;dr is that i got invested in bigslab bc of an au with my partners that involves them with a rly fun dynamic. i just havent seen it anywehre else but now im like dang. i should rotate them more

[undercoverpena]

i. aren’t repulsed by me

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter one of i like the way you

best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.

chapter warnings: friends with benefits. fwb! rules. smut. p in v. dirty talk.

an: the biggest hug to @ghostaholics because without her allowing me to waffle saturday night, all of this wouldn't be here. a huge thank you to @thetriumphantpanda for reading this and telling me i should post it, and to my eyes all over my skies @guyfieriii

wordcount: 4k

“You’re late.”

Frankie smirks, watching you lean in the doorway, his hand lifting the sweating bag of food and the clanging paper bag containing the essentials, aka wine and beer.

He watches as the gesture makes your eyes narrow, forgiveness etching across earlier annoyance as you put out your hand, offering to take something, anything.

“The store close to mine was out of your wine.”

Shutting the door, he finds you glancing over your shoulder, the television already set up. The usual array of candles and blankets across your living room—the ones which aren’t romantic, just mood setting (a thing you’ve highlighted to him many times). Not to him—he knows. But to others. Those who don’t understand that a friendship that’s spanned over ten years can remain as innocent as it seems—that movie nights were just movie nights. Even if the group chat joked otherwise.

“I’m serious,” he adds.

“So it’s not because you left yours at the time you were supposed to be here?”

Snorting, he follows you into the kitchen—the light flickers on, making him blink. Once again thwarted by the phone you made him upgrade to—the one which spills his secrets, like location and when he’s read your message.

Grabbing a plate, you hold it out to him. “That’s what I thought.”

“Y’gonna forgive me, or am I gonna have to surrender my movie privilege next time?”

You scrunch your nose—an act that shouldn’t make him smile, but does. His eyes scan up and down your face, a calmness spreading over him as soon as he is in the walls of your place—a feeling he always has when he’s with you.

His friend—his best friend.

A person who has been there through it all. Not batting an eyelid when he knocks on past midnight, red-eyes, dripping with rain because he lost his license, and he can’t sleep, and he’s so impossibly fucking tired. Not fazed when he slumps next to you, detailing the heartache of finding out he wasn’t going to be a father after all, handing him a bottle of beer—his favourite, the only kind you keep, all because of him.

You don’t make him pay. You never do.

Forever there, a rock—a comfort and a safety. It’s why he doesn’t fuck around with movie nights—doesn’t fuck around with anything to do with you. A silent promise, a rule: Frankie will always be there.

It didn’t matter if the person you dated hated him, didn’t matter if you pulled away because life became hard and you wanted to decline invites to the bar with the others. Frankie was there, the two of you giving and taking, always balanced, forever shared.

Movie nights reflected this. Last time was his choice, and tonight, it’s yours. A romantic comedy, with a twist—you’d said. He didn’t ask questions, just nestled under the blanket you dubbed his—green, worn, “like you, Morales”, you’d said when you’d pulled it out of the cupboard for him.

Taking his plate, you pop them on the coffee table. “You think you’d ever do it?”

“What? Friends with benefits?” He watches as you nod, getting comfortable again in your place. “Be better than whatever I’m doing now.”

“Which is?”

Smirking, he rolls his head on the back of your sofa. Hat gone, thrown on your armchair, fingers carding through his curls as he glances at you. “Nothin’. I’m not… I’m not dating—don’t really have the time. My schedule is just…”

“Fucked?”

Laughing, he nods.

“Can’t say I’m much better…”

Nudging you, you lift your chin, meeting his eye line again—something there, flickering. An array of words you’d usually share, but stick, cling somewhere in your throat as you offer him a comforting smile.

One he knows, well.

It’s your ‘doesn’t matter’ smile. The one you give when you’re single again, not willing to explain it—not until you’re two glasses into the bottle he’s brought to cheer you up—mumbling about not wanting him to say anything. As if saying something would be at the top of his agenda with some of them.

“It’s just that… I don’t wanna do that dating bit. You know, doing the how are you? What do you do, shit? Can’t exactly go out and just say I want to be bent in half and stuffed full—“

“Fuck me.”

“—but really, that’s all I want. Fun, with someone I don’t dislike, but won’t ask me to do romantic things that make me fall for them, only to be let down by them like I always am.”

Letting his head rest on your sofa, he sighs. “Yeah, same. Just want the stress relief.”

You agree by letting the softest yeah fall from your lips before you glance back at the movie. But he knows you’re not watching it. Eyes glazed over, brain ticking, turning. His finger poking you, the same way he always did—something he began doing back when he told you he’d enlisted, and you didn’t say anything except ‘you were happy for him’.

“Just thinking, I could… I could probably help you solve it, the stress relief. You know? That is—if you didn’t find me so repulsive.”

It’s instant, the way he feels his forehead scrunch and his eyes narrow. The sound of the movie fading to nothing—mind filling instead with your words, them rolling, and rolling, and rolling…

Frankie stares. Watching, finding you, if anything, looking like you weren’t even expecting a reply, never mind needing one.

“I don’t—I don’t find you repulsive.”

You smile, with an added snort, before layering on a shrug for added measure. The embodiment of unbothered, the painted picture of I don’t care.

He’d believe it too if you didn’t stand so quickly—mumbling about getting another drink. Asking if he wanted one. So quick to leave, to remove yourself from the situation, from being close to him.

It isn’t until he watches you stand that it hits him. The realisation going straight through him as he sees your shoulders slide down, the knowledge tearing, ripping—it feels worse than a bullet because:

You don’t believe him.

A part of you having convinced yourself before you’d even thought the words, never mind said them, that he could possibly think you weren’t attractive to him.

It forces him up from his seat, blanket discarded, pursuing you—the television covering the sound of his feet on your wooden flooring, the tap filling your glass doing the rest until he’s behind you. The glow of the street light through your kitchen window halos around you as you keep your back to him. Hand twitching at his side, a part of him unsure if he should keep standing here or if he should turn you.

Think, Frankie. Think.

Because for all the usually loud reasons he normally has told himself as to why he shouldn’t pursue you, it’s now surprisingly quiet in his head.

Even more so when you turn, the glass in your hand, eyes taking him in.

The rest is just instinct—not even thinking. His hands come either side of you, pressing into the counter, swallowing, watching as you place your glass down.

“I don’t find you repulsive,” he says, low, almost gruff. It comes from deep within—laced in other confessions, wrapped in words he hopes you can’t hear. “Not in the slightest.”

His eyes burning, searing the words in. Watching as you don’t break from him, lips ever so slightly parting, before he sees your gaze drop to his mouth, before flicking back up.

If someone asks, he’ll never be able to confirm who moved first. The two of you finding yourself in the middle, mouth slanted over yours, feeling your tongue behind his teeth as you pull him close, his arms caging you in. He can taste the berries, the sweetness that he hopes is just you and how it’s mixed with the sauce from the food—heat licking up his spine, need spreading through his stomach as he presses himself flush against you, leaving no room between him, you and the kitchen counter.

It’s intoxicating, dizzying, the feeling of dipping his toe into the pool he has always thought was off limits. Feeling you moan. Frankie basks in the sound, paints himself in it—hoping he can hear you sing his name, hoping he’ll hear it—capture it, keep how pretty, it is all to himself.

You moan when he grinds his hips into you. It vibrates down his throat, marking him, scratching its claws into him as he grips the back of your head—deepening the kiss. Drowning in it—in you. You’ve always made him breathless, so now he just hopes you pull him under, your hands clutching him closer, as though he’s your anchor—when in truth, he’s pretty sure that’s you for him.

“If we do this,” he says, dragging his lips down your neck, feeling one of your hands slide into his hair, “We need rules.”

Teeth grazing against your skin, the scent of your lingering perfume infecting his nose. A scent that usually clings to him, buries itself in his clothes—one he finds comfort in. Like he always finds comfort in you.

“Like, we can’t tell anyone.”

Snorting, you meet his lips—kissing him, tongue swiping across his bottom lip as he groans. Signing it, his proclamation.

“Deal,” you whisper. “I’m not staying over at your place. You can stay here, but I’m not… I won’t—“

He places his palm on your cheek, tilting your head, chaste, smaller kisses. A silent agreement.

Licking his lips, his heart thunders at the next. The one which is like acid in his stomach—one you could think is selfish, demanding. “You can date, but if we’re fucking, we’re fucking. I don’t share. So, if you want to do that with others, you tell me, and we stop this.”

“Okay.”

His other hand slid between the two of you, thankful—more than he can articulate and ever put into words—that you’re wearing sweats. His.

An old pair—one you’d borrowed when you’d spilt food on yourself and never returned.

Fuck, they always looked better on you.

Smirking, you turn your face, kissing his wrist. “But, you can’t buy me wine anymore. No flowers. No romance.”

Chewing his cheek, he mirrors your smirk. “You can’t cook me food.”

Sighing, you nod.

“So.”

“So.”

Grinning, you loop a finger into his belt hook, pulling him close. His fingers toying with the knot on your sweats.

“So, you gonna put your mouth where your hand is?”

Raising his brows, you laugh—light, airy, fucking beautifully.

“Is that what you want, querida? Huh.” He says, voice dropping, hand cupping you through his sweats. “Cause I’m dying to see if you taste as good as I’ve imagined.”

“You’ve not imagined this.”

Lowering his lips to yours, he ghosts them over—your breath warm, teasing against his skin, the hairs above his lip. “Oh, I have.”

His fingers move, toying, teasing. Hearing you murmur a groan in the back of your throat as he imagines how wet you are. Whether there’s a patch on your underwear, whether you’ll coat his fingers when he finally touches you skin on skin.

“You need a ha—”

“Don’t worry, querida,” he whispers, the hand on the back of your head sliding around your neck, thumb under your chin, tilting your head up, “I’m good with my hands.”

He’s not sure if the moan you emit is at his words or the fact he undoes the little knot at your waist with one hand. But fuck does he swallow it—he feasts on it. It fills him like no food ever could as he manoeuvres his hand, fingertips brushing cotton before he slides his fingers against your warm skin.

“Last chance,” he offers, light touches, all feathery. Not quite touching, but close enough.

Swallowing, you shift your weight, ever so delicately handing him the words he desperately needs: I want you, Morales.

Morales, he thinks—fingers dipping into your wetness, slick covering his fingers, and it’s his turn to groan. More so when he drags his finger over your swollen clit, admiring how you arch into him, mouth desperate to find him, breath ghosting over him as he grins, all cocky, likely lit up by the moon and the street light.

“You’re the prettiest fucking thing,” he groans.

Pressing two of his fingers inside your heat, the hand on your jaw—finger under your chin—keeping your eyes up, lifted, perfectly on him so he can watch how your flashes flutter. Watch in the highest of definitions what he’s doing to you.

“Always have been,” he continues.

His focus is only on you, and all you’ll give him as he pumps his fingers in and out—the sound of how much you want this, want him, coating the air. So much so that he can practically taste it.

A part of him knows how close you are before you whisper it.

Imagining the way heat is pooling in your stomach, that your fingers must be aching from how you’re gripping the kitchen counter for leverage as he curls his fingers inside of you. And fuck, does he hate jeans—hates how tight they feel on his hard cock, how all he wants is to relieve some pressure, to grip the base in his hand and squeeze so he can marvel at how fucking gorgeous you are like this.

“Eyes on me,” he says, gruffer, laced in gravel—all low, like it’s coming from somewhere deep inside of him. It has, truthfully.

The moment he began seeing your lashes fluttering, he knew he didn’t want them to close.

Your whine, peppered with a moan emitting. “I’m so cl—close.”

Smirking, he licks his lips—dragging his tongue across his bottom lip. The one you want where his fingers currently are. Almost wishing you could speak so you could ask, beg, plead.

“I know, querida. I know. It’s why I want your eyes on me.”

Your body pauses. Halts.

Then he feels it, the beginning—the telltale sign. The incoming he wants to have a second sight for by the end of the night, as he marries his lips to yours, desperate, needy, to taste what it’s like when you call his name as you come.

Fuck you even sound pretty.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought of him.

But dreams could never live up to him.

His hands on either side of your face, kissing you as you step out of your sweats, and underwear, that he’d yanked down your thighs when you’d caught your breath.

Fuck, he is good with his hands.

It’s the first thought you have since he caged you in the kitchen—all serious, something etched into his forehead that is now smooth, like it was never there. It’s also the first solid thought you’ve had since you returned to Earth from him making you come in the kitchen.

And you’re thankful that his fingers are on your cheeks, your body having turned into liquid—muscles having forgotten their role with your bones betraying you too. Your hand loosened on his wrist, the one you’d gripped to feel what it was he was doing to you, needing to be present with each thrust of his fingers.

Now, you’re leading him.

Body having taken over, while your brain is left still reeling.

Because fuck do you want this. You’ve imagined it, dreamt of it. Frankie, your best friend, the one who knows you better than you know yourself—clearly in more ways than you ever counted on for how quickly he undid you in the kitchen.

It’s why you turn, realising you know him too.

Stories coming to you, memories—ghostly snippets that had filled you with rage that now fuel you—as your hand grips him through his jeans. Quick, careful—well-versed—in the way you crash your mouth to his as his groan vibrates against your tongue. Your spine met the wall closest to your room, him thrusting into your hand, words falling, all laced in lust and dusted in desperation.

“Por favor, te deseo. Please, querida.”

You’re slow in the way you undo his jeans. The pop of the button is dramatic, a sign. Your mouth places kisses against his lips, his cheeks, jaw and neck.

Then, you’re unzipping his fly. The sound cutting through the pants, the heady breaths—the only other discernible sound is the movie the two of you have left playing.

“Wanna wrap my mouth around you, Morales.”

You can’t see him, but you can hear his throat swallow, likely imagining the way his eyes are staring at you, drinking you in, dragging them up and down your face like he was in the kitchen.

“Yeah, you wanna taste me?”

Nodding, you bite your lip, palm brushing over his covered cock—lashes fluttering at the feel of him. Because he’s thick, big—fucking hard. Something you should have known from the way his pants hugged him, the way it commanded a glance when he wore those lighter-wash jeans.

“You think you can take all of me down that pretty throat of yours, baby?”

Snorting, you flatten your palm against him—hearing him hiss, wishing there was light, wanting to see the expression on his face. “I’d give it a good go.”

Dragging his thumb over the curve of your breast, the fabric moving, applying additional friction before he’s lingering, drawing a circle over your nipple until it pebbles, just as you hear him smirk—adamant, somehow you can even see it.

“Later,” he adds. “Need to feel you come around my cock first.”

You couldn’t argue with him. Less so when more clothes fall, unveiling him. All soft muscles, defined when he flexes, the pair of you down to your underwear—a path of removed clothes detailing the route the two of you have taken.

Frankie kisses you hard.

Pulling you back to him, removing any other thought from your mind with ease. Not that you have the time to think about how you can’t believe this is happening, or the movie that’s still playing. Not when he’s leading you, walking you backwards, hand on your waist, thumb drawing circles, squares, triangles and everything else until the back of your legs meet your bed.

Then, you’re falling, landing on cool, cushioning fabric, bouncing ever so slightly as he wipes his hand across his bottom lip.

“Still can’t believe you ever thought you’d repulse me.”

Your skin warms, burns. A part of you wants to hide yourself, cover your stomach with your arm, hide your face in a pillow.

His fingers slide over the fabric at your waist, a whispered can I that you’re quick to nod at, until you’re bare in front of him. No hiding, illuminated by the moon and the stars outside, covered in milky-white light, hoping it’s forgiving on your curves.

“Querida, where are your—“

“I’m clean. Are y-you?”

He nods, direct, quick. Evident of a former soldier as his fingers slide under your chin. Mouth asking if you’re sure, he doesn’t mind. You just kiss his touch, bringing your hand around his wrist, sliding his fingers into your mouth.

I’m sure.

I’m so sure.

Then he’s crawling up you, his mouth slanting over yours. All tongue, all passion. His hand wraps around your head as the other guides the head of his cock through your slick, tilting your face up, opening your eyes to see him barely a breath away as he stares down at the two of you. Eyes pausing on the place where you’ll soon be conjoined.

“Look at me,” you say this time.

Watching his eyes drag back up to yours, your arms wrapping around his neck.

“Please fuck me, Frankie.”

He nods, wearing the most gentle, sweetest smile on his face. “I will, I promise. Anything for you, querida.”

All you can think is fuck.

Not getting a second to comprehend his words before he sinks in, every inch of him making you feel so full. Your head going limp in his head, arms tightening around his neck, gasping as he keeps going, and going until he’s buried in you to the hilt.

And you’re sure, could swear on it with confidence, you’ve never felt such fullness—filled to the brim, stuffed.

“So full,” you moan.

You swear he smiles, lit up by the light through your undrawn curtains.

“Thought about this,” he says as he pulls out and slams back in. “After Ben’s party, when you wore those jeans—in the summer when you wore those shorts. Fuck, baby, your legs—”

He says it as he runs a hand over the outside of your thigh, gripping the top as he punctuates it with a thrust.

“Always thought you were pretty, too fucking good for those people you dated—”

Your hips push back, meeting him. “—Frankie—”

“—too good for me, really.”

And you groan, whimper, moan. Letting a no fall out, an attempt at arguing with him for what he said.

But he kisses it away.

Desperate, more passion and teeth than before. A silent pleading for you to bury your words. A mixture of all three coming out at once, hitting the air, tainting it in something good that should feel sinful. Your hand slides down over his neck, shoulder and torso, clutching his waist as you mirror his movements, meeting him with everything you have, lips ghosting over his neck, tasting the salt and smelling the scent you know is just him.

A scent you hope digs into your skin, able to wear it long after this. An aroma that has always brought you comfort, even if it shouldn’t—even if the two of you are friends, nothing more.

And you’re close, beads of sweat on his brow, and if he isn’t the most handsome man you’ve ever had above you. One that you want to flip onto his back so you can admire him from above—sitting poised on his cock, bouncing on him until your eyes are blazed with stars and satisfaction.

The sounds of the two of you, all obscene, wet, as he grips the back of your thighs and somehow fucks you deeper. Each thrust punches a breath from your lungs, fingers clutching his shoulder, the other buried in the duvet.

“Takin’ me so well, baby. Can’t believe I’m fucking you.”

“Fucking me so good, Frankie. Fuck.”

“Better than your exes?”

You nod, words at a loss. All stolen, punched from you by his cock—because you feel so good, he makes you feel so good.

You swear you hear him say good, all low, voice dark, as you feel his hand sliding between you before he brushes his thumb over your clit. Circling, circling, circling—

Frankie knowing what you need, likely skimmed his fingers across your skin and read you like a map. 

That, and the fact he must feel you squeezing him, tightening, vice-like around him as he begins to pound into you.

“I always fucking hated your exes.”

Your back arches, like he commanded it. It sparking, what he’d been driving you to, erupting, rippling out from your core across your body, as his name rips from your throat. The sound of your moan blending into the air, tingeing it, painting it with his groans as he continues to work you through it.

Ever-determined, focused.

Your hand slides down from his shoulder to his chest, to his waist, feeling his muscles flex under the skin.

It’s only as you begin to catch your breath, that you realise how close he is.

You smirk, devilish, all laced with cockiness as you beckon him down, knotting your fingers in his curls, dragging his head down, so your mouth is close to his ear. “Always hated your exes, too,” you say, punctuating the words. “Now be good and fill me up, Morales.”

CHAPTER TWO ->

[blingblong55]

To live without- 141 + Alejandro

Based on a request:

Hii can I make a request for some angst?? Maybe the reader having an argument with the TF 141 + Alejandro, inside the car or anywhere resulting to a break up?? Cause I'm a sucker for angst, thankss 🫶

F!Reader, angst, established!relationship, break-ups, cheating (not all)

A/N: This will be in 5 parts

Part 1 (John Price), Part 2, (Soap), Part 3 (Gaz), Part 4 (Alejandro)

It has been a stressful few months for him, between his job, you, his own safety and yours, let alone the current argument over his current state. It's why you and he are now in the car, having this argument.

Ghost:

Your breakup was the accumulation of months and months of distrust and his latest injury that got him 7 months off work. He started drinking, a lot more than his usual beer or two every other day. then his questions that suggested you must be cheating or that you are the enemy and of course, you understood the past mission was difficult on him. You knew from the start a man like him, a soldier with so many bad memories and so many betrayals was bound to have days where he couldn't and wouldn't trust you.

Lately, he has been worse, sleeping late, waking up early, smoking too much for your personal liking, becoming a heavy drinker and he now yells at you.

You had gone on a walk when he suddenly woke up, looked around your shared flat and the second he knew you weren't home, he drove to the only place where his drunk mind knew you'd be, the park. And just like expected, you were there, playing fetch with your dog.

"I knew you'd be here" his speech slurred. You were worried the instant you understood he was still somewhat drunk and the fact that you saw his truck. "Simon, you drove here?"

"Yes, I needed my beautiful girl."

"Simon, that isn't safe for you or anyone on the road-"

He pressed his index finger against your lips, trying to get you to shush up and you moved his hand away from your lips.

"This is so irresponsible of you, c'mon, let's get in the car," you start to walk, dog trailing along. "I'm driving," you add.

Once in the car, he sits in the passenger seat, "You're no fun, love"

"Life is fun, not ending it because you are an irresponsible drinker."

He scoffs, "Oh c'mon, don't act like you are perfect," he looks over at you as you start the car.

"And I'm not perfect, but you have to understand-"

"Yeah I fuckin' get it, I am an alcoholic and you are perfect-"

"Enough, Simon! I am tired of you drinking, yelling for no reason and being a prick to me all the time!" you snap

"If you weren't such a bother in my life I wouldn't be a drinker.." he comments. You can't even drive off because you are trying to contain such anger inside.

"Simon-"

"No, R/N, you act like I am a fuck up, I'm not my father...and I am not a fuck up, not to mention you treat me like a child ever since the injury."

"I never said you were any of those things and I only treat you with care, I want you to live a long life-"

"Yeah I've heard this so many times, Why don't you fuck off and leave my life for good."

That was his flaw, acting or speaking before thinking and now all is lost. It has been 3 months since you moved out, 1 month since he started to sober up and 2 months since he began to beg you for forgiveness. He has tried to gain the life he once had, the warm bed and the warm hugs and to be honest, he hasn't left the house much since the breakup, hates bars and pubs and hates knowing you aren't there to take him home. He has improved though, always hides the keys in new places before he starts to drink, walks anywhere, looks at both sides before crossing and as he does so, always thinks of you.

He can't take back what else he said in the car that evening and he will forever regret losing the one thing he loved the most. The one thing he has to live without.

[firesnap]

i have a genuine question. i promise i am not at all trying to defend him. ive dropped him entirely, literally deleted everything i had of him and unliked his songs.

ive just been wondering like considering that he has been in therapy, and also considering how if he does take a year off and then comes back, why cant it be redeemable? like cant people change? cant we give them second chances? he is 27. is he just doomed to be an abuser forever?

its just scary and im asking as like a younger person who is in my very early 20s. i know ive made mistakes. i know ive not been a good partner or friend sometimes. (and yes i was also abusive to a past partner...im not proud of it and ive learned from it. i have never ever touched anyone in that way after that. it took awhile but my current relationship isnt toxic and i would never hurt anyone or hit them again yknow?) and it scares me that people keep insinuating that he is irredeemable. like cant abusers change and become better? dont they get second chances? if shelby has grown and healed in 10 months wouldn't it be fair to say the same for wilbur?

im just genuinely asking because based on everything i believe you are older than me and im looking for guidance and just...idk im scared. growing up on the internet has made me so scared of making mistakes and doing anything wrong because when it happens to others i look up to, its always treated as something they'll never be able to change or improve. makes me feel like imma just be a horrible person forever because i made mistakes in the past.

This is a really complicated question that multiple answers can validly fit.

I don't think, personally, that anyone is irredeemable. I think everyone is on a journey of forgiveness and some of us may need more grace than others.

This is tw// abuse even more than the current topic, but my mom was incredibly abusive. We lived in a very rural area and she had a lot of undiagnosed problems and trauma of her own that created a pressure pot of issues. After I was born, she suffered through full on post-partum psychosis that nearly ended about as well as that sentence implies it could have. She was incredibly violent, controlling, and cruel for years. My sister went no-contact with her the second she turned 18. A significant event occurred that eventually spurned her into seeking real treatment that lasted for years. It's still ongoing.

My sister is also still no contact and I support her decision 100%. Those are her wounds and what she needed to do to get peace should be respected. I decided I wanted a relationship with the person who came out of all that work and, even then, it's been hard. I don't know if she's redeemed herself, and my god do we still have bumps in the road, but I support her for trying.

With Wilbur, how he responds to this is going to really impact a lot of things. I mean, I know no matter how he responds I won't be going on whatever journey of redemption and healing he has to go through. I'm tired and I feel hurt enough. I would think, if he wanted to show he was sincere, admitting what happened would be a great sense of closure for a lot of people who put time and energy and faith into this guy for years.

Not every person that causes harm is inherently evil, but there has to be some kind of knowledge that you're aware of the harm you've caused. No one is stuck as anything forever, life is constantly moving, and most people aren't saying his life is just over. You can work on yourself. You can change. And I'm saying that specifically to you, anonymous.

(Saying this, actually, there ARE people who would argue once you've done x you're beyond redemption based entirely on their life experiences as a victim, personal histories and many other factors. Kinda like my sister, that's their choice. And you have to accept that sometimes you fuck up so badly that you will permanently lose some people from your life. But your life isn't over.)

But I do think, regardless of what he says or does about this, his time of controlling a large platform is at an end. He can still do a lot of things in his life after he works on himself -- editing, song producing, directing, writing or whatever -- but being in charge of a large impressionable audience that could enable more destructive behaviors is just not it.

[jinlias]

kinktober day 12 - overstimulation with chaeryeong

“why are you crying? i thought you wanted to come?” you bounce on chaeryeong’s cock sloppily. you’re tired, on your third orgasm with your hands tied behind your back and your hair sticking to your skin. your thighs are beginning to burn and sting in a way you already know, because you’ve been on this forever, paying for your actions. “am i wrong? were you not crying and begging me to let you come? ‘please mommy, please let me come, i’m sorry, i won’t do it again? hm?”

“i didn’t mean like this!” tears roll down your face “it hurts mommy, please. forgive me” the girl under you just chuckles, swiping some of the tears on your cheek with her thumb

“oh but you like it” she tuts, shaking her head “keep riding me baby, this is your punishment, you’re not supposed to enjoy it” and she’s right, it hurts a tad, but every orgasm feels so much better than the last exactly because of the light sting.

the spanks she delivers to your ass are constant, and she’s way more empathic now, but she’s tightened your restraints gradually every time you piss her off “what’d you think, that a few apologies are gonna make me feel better? you humiliated me infront of my colleagues.”

“no one even noticed!!” okay, you might’ve gotten a little handsy at a work event, so what? all you know is she came and no one ever suspected a thing

“i don’t care y/n, i warned you multiple times, and you didn’t listen, these are your consequences” her hand snakes around your neck, until the grip is what she desires, tight enough to distract you, but not too much to restrict your breathing yet.

“faster” she demands, glaring up at you in disappointment.

“i’m tired” you whine, almost doubling over at a slight loss of balance. “i want you to fuck me mommy, i can’t do it anymore.”

“and i’m tired of you being a spoiled brat.” the grip on your neck tightens “if i fucked you, i’d be doing all the work, and you know you have to work for my forgiveness”

[mcflymemes]

LORD HURON PROMPTS *  assorted lines from their albums

they put me in the ground, but i'm back from the dead.

i'm coming for you.

you got holes in your clothes.

i'm not afraid to fight.

what's the point of life?

all my days are filled with mourning.

i wanted everybody else in the world to know it.

i can bring your fears to life.

everybody lies.

somehow i survived.

you pulled me from a nightmare.

i fucked with forces that our eyes can't see.

i will stand by you.

i tried to warn you when you were a child.

don't laugh. you'll make me cry.

i swear to god i don't know him.

i was nearly destroyed.

i've no regrets.

you look like hell.

are you dead or are you alive?

i know i wanna love you.

you're tired of me.

please don't lie.

show me yours, and i'll show you mine.

all my nights are empty.

if forever gets lonely, take my hand.

better run for your life.

i'm heading out on the road tonight.

love is strange.

if you're leaving, i gotta know why.

i will not ask for your forgiveness.

you don't hit half-bad.

i will wait by the river.

i will never ever love another one the way i loved her.

how long have i been away?

i can feel it in my bones.

don't spurn me after all i've gone through.

all on my own just like i wanted to be.

i'm much too young to die.

it's hard to make friends when you're half in the grave.

darkness brings evil things.

you smell like death.

i bet he's not so tough.

i know that i'm damned.

since i recall, you've been my friend.

i should be on my way.

go on baby. hurt me tonight.

i know you're still alive.

i had a name, but they took it from me.

some kind of trouble is coming.

they burnt it to the ground.

i guess you're him.

all the dead seem to know where i am.

i'll never bleed.

i could use a few laughs and a couple of songs.

they come rising up into the night.

i've shared my life with you.

i'd never doubt you.

i won't ever age.

i'm tired of you.

they'll be looking for me.

i wonder where you are.

in my mind, you're mine forever.

i'll raise some hell.

i'm gonna see where it leads.

we'll face the fire together.

the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams.

see how it feels.

may you live until you die.

just wait until i catch my breath.

how many miles have we wandered?

i found my way.

i'm going away for a long time.

don't wait. it's time to go.

i did it all for you.

there was no one else in sight.

i've been out way too long.

would you follow me?

there are rules.

meet me in the woods tonight.

i don't want to be the only one living when all of my friends are gone.

don't turn away.

we will always be together.

i am coming for you.

few have seen it.

if you ever wanna see my face again, i wanna know.

i was six feet down, but something raised me up.

i'm gonna whistle a tune.

we really should've left here long ago.

close your eyes now.

everybody talks.

i've come back changed.

i can't sleep without you.

you say we're not like the others.

how long have i known you?

don't tell me that we're not the same.

i have seen what darkness does.

you don't want me, baby.

i hope you know the lengths i've gone to.

please don't say i'm going alone.

like hell you are.

[harlowsbby]

Heated part 2

“You told them you don’t know who she is?! Are you insane Jack what in the actual hell is wrong with you.” Neelam barked at Jack the minute he told her as to why you couldn’t get into the club.

He felt bad he felt like an asshole he knew what he did wasn’t the smartest move and he knew you’d hate him forever because of it but he felt like you’d understand why he did what he did.

“What was I suppose to do Neelam? She wore leggings and a crop top to the club obviously they weren’t going to let her inside.”

“That’s not the point Jack at all she’s your girlfriend your fucking girlfriend and she’s in a whole different country she’s never been in hell that none of us been in. Do you understand how dangerous that is or do you just simply not care about that either.”

Jack sighed and closed his eyes, the face you made when he said he never even met you now haunted him you looked so hurt and betrayed he was suppose to comfort you and love on you and protect you but he did the total opposite of that.

“What am I suppose to do Neelam? I have to perform in like five minutes I can’t just leave.” Neelam shook her head at Jack and leaned back in her seat shrugging her shoulders at him.

“If you really loved her like you say you do you’d be running after her right now, no amount of money should be worth the loss of Y/N you’ll never ever find a girl like her again.”

Neelam was right Jack couldn’t lose you because you kept him grounded you were the only thing he looked forward into seeing after long months of tour and losing you is something he wouldn’t do.

“You’re right can you please just tell the owner I’m really really sorry.” Neelam smiled and nodded and watched Jack leave the club, she could only hope you’d forgive him.

“Please pick up please baby girl.” Jack’s been walking all over Australia trying to find you, the driver offered to drive him around but Jack denied he knew just driving around a bunch of buildings wasn’t going to be the same as being on foot and being able to actually look for you.

He’s called you about ten or maybe even twenty times in the pass thirty minutes and you still haven’t answered his calls he was starting to worry and get more concerned by the minute.

After a few more minutes of searching it started pouring down with rain he decided to head back towards the hotel and was hoping and praying that’s where you were because he couldn’t come to turns if something seriously happened to you.

Once inside the hotel room it was pitch black he bit his lip before turning on the closes light that was next to him and he sighed in relief when he saw your sleeping form under the silk blanket and sheets.

Taking off his shoes quietly he made his way towards you care not to be wake you but when he got closer he noticed you were wide awake, eyes starting blankly at the wall across from you he noticed a few dried tear stains on your cheeks and how red/pink your lips were they always got that way whenever you cried you’d tend to bite your lips.

“Baby?” His lip quivered as he pulled back the blanket slightly revealing your face a bit more you turned around and looked at him blankly no emotion whatsoever ran through your face and it honestly scared Jack.

“Yes Jack?”

“Are you okay baby? I’m sorry for what I did at the club I really didn’t mean it I should’ve never told them I didn’t know you I just I fuck I just did-.”

“Didn’t wanna ruin your reputation. I understand Jack I completely understand that all the money and fame and how people view you is way more important then I’ll ever be.” You gave him a tight lip smile sending chills down his spine, hearing you say that made him honestly feel like a monster.

“Baby I’m sorry please.”

“Jack I’m tired of hearing your bullshit apologizes you left me alone all because I wore leggings and ancrop top to the club appearance that would only last twenty minutes at that. You told that man that you didn’t know who I was, you felt me alone on the streets of Australia and having to find my way back to the hotel.”

You were beyond upset you were hurt and embarrassed it was one thing about keeping your relationship a secret for so long but Jack acting like he didn’t know you crossed the line for you, if this was going to be the result of being in a secret relationship with him then this wasn’t what you wanted.

“I’m sorry baby I am I shouldn’t have done that to you or put you in that situation it was so wrong of me and I know things might not ever be the same and I’m sorry Y/N.”

You weren’t really sure what to do in this moment you loved Jack with your entire heart and soul but being kept a secret just didn’t slide with you anymore.

“I’m sorry Jack but I just can’t do this anymore.” Whimpering you hugged yourself as the tears started flowing again, this isn’t how you wanted this to be at all but after tonight you just simply couldn’t be with someone like this anymore.

“I understand, I’ll always love you Y/N.”

“I’ll always love you too Jack.”

( a few months later )

“Y/N come on the club opens at ten which means we have to be there in literally ten minutes let’s go.” Your friend Tati yelled from the end of your steps in your house, doing a twirl or two at yourself in the mirror you smiled in approval of your outfit before dashing downstairs.

“I’m done I’m done now you can stop complaining.” Tati rolled her eyes but followed you towards your car, the two of you got invited to this new club that was opening up in Atlanta called Peaches and Cream the two of you settled on black leather skirts and a black leather one piece paired with some black heels.

“Who’s the rapper that’s performing tonight? Isn’t is Jack.” Tati asked as the two of you pulled up to the club luckily it was just barely a few minutes from your house.

“Sadly yes but I promise I’m not fazed by him anymore at all I grew and learned from that situation and I promise I’m in a way better space Tati.” Tati smiled as she rubbed your back, the minute you got back home from Australia she was at the airport waiting for you with open arms she helped you get over your heartbreak and now you were a successful Atlanta influencer and you couldn’t be happier.

“I’m happy you’re going better baby I know how much you went through but let’s drop that situation because tonight we’re celebrating you and your first little brand deal.” You both squealed before going inside the club you both sat in vip where all the other girls that were partners with pretty little thing sat at.

“Y/N’s here tonight did you know that.” Jack’s been stressed all day because from your recent Instagram stories you were set to make an appearance at the club tonight because of your brand deal with pretty little thing and he was nervous he hadn’t spoke to you since that night in Australia.

“Okay what does that have to do with you? I thought the two of you ended in good terms.” Urban asked as he stuffed his face with some fries.

“We did I guess but anytime I reached out she’d leave me on seen so I’m not sure if we are.”

“Well we don’t have the time to talk about this because they need you on stage now Jack.” Neelam told him and guided him to the entrance of the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen give it up for the one and only Jack Harlow!!” The DJ at the club screamed and all the girls screamed as Jack made his way onto the stage. You weren’t going to lie he looked damn good he had on an all black leather top with cargo pants of course and some black and white new balance shoes

Jack was on his song lil secret everyone in your guys friend circle knew that song was about you he was looking up above the crowd and that’s when he noticed you, your eyes widened as the two of you made eye contact and the way he wasn’t breaking it was for sure going to be in the blogs the following day.

“I told my therapist about you she always takes your side, I know you sick of being my little secret cause you confident that we soulmates.” He sang into the mic one last time before the song ended the crowd cheered for him one last time before he disappeared again backstage.

“Well that’ll have the blogs talking tomorrow.”

“Tell me about it.” You mumbled and went to stirring your drink around in your glass that you were no longer interested in.

After the club settled down a bit from Jack’s performance everyone just danced and drank and had a good time together that was until a certain somebody made their way to your vip section.

“Oh my gosh that’s Jack Harlow.” One of the girls whispered yelled to everyone at the table looking up there stood Jack and Urban and a few of his friends at the entrance of your vip section.

“Hello ladies if you don’t mind can I come in?” You we’re going to say no but a few of the other girls said they could come in, Urban and the other quickly become close with the other girls.

“I think it’s time we go home.” You told Tati and she nodded before taking your hand and guiding you through the club.

“I’ll be right back Urb.” Urban nodded not really paying much attention to Jack as he was too occupied with his newly found friend.

“Y/N hey Y/N wait up.” You heard Jack’s Kentucky accent yell from the club you mentally cursed yourself for wearing these heels that prevented you from running faster enough.

Before you could get into the suv he grabbed your wrist firmly but not too hard.

“Can we talk?”

“What is there to talk about Jack we’ve been over and done with I have nothing left to say.” You spat at him and went to go into the suv but his grip wasn’t budging.

“What’s wrong with you? Every time I message you I don’t get a text back I thought everything was cool between us.” His blue eyes widened with concern and regret and you so badly wanted to melt and jump into his arms but you couldn’t go back to that you just couldn’t.

“We’re done Jack please I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Let me come with you pleas-.” Jack was cut off by your security guard coming over.

“Ms. Y/N do you know this guy?” Earl your security asked you, looking Jack over you sighed you missed him you truly did you missed all the late nights with each other all the memories the two of you had you just missed him in general but he broke your trust but most importantly he broke your heart.

“Never seen him in my life.”

[lovethatmakingcoffee]

Part 2

Forever

I have seen amazing artists and content creators come and go, and some get taken out by cancellation. Whether it was true or not, I’ve seen the fellow painter and aspiring film maker be chased off respective platforms or generally scared away because of the negative effects of cancellation. They will be canceled over stupid things they did in the past close to a decade ago or over something that isn't true. And honestly, I'm sick of it. I don’t care who you cancellers are, I want to rip you apart with fangs and claws. And I'm sick all of you trolls getting what you want. 

There was one artist I knew who made the most beautiful pieces and one random asshole one day called them out for being a pedo. Were they? No, and how would they even know anyway? But everyone just jumped up and dogpiled her. I tried my hardest to intervene and tell her not to listen to what they had to say, but the damage had been done, they succeeded and chased her off. And I will never forgive them for that. Such a talented person chased off and for what? To stroke someone's ego? Because they were jealous? It doesn’t matter. This terrible rage in my stomach has been building up with every artist running away with the fear of being cancelled and I can’t take it. 

When it first began, the cancellation movement, some foresaw how bad it would be and realized that they didn’t want to face it. For example, my beloved Jenna Marbles. Who knows, maybe she was tired of the whole YouTube scene to begin with, she had been doing it for ten years after all, but she decided to do her own cancellation to free herself from someone bringing it up instead. Maybe she realized how dangerous this was and that she should just leave before it was too late, cause with 2020 and that cancelling movement on the horizon, I don’t think my girl had the strength to keep up. She did her own cancellation suicide and fucked off, escaping criticism by criticizing herself. And I was heartbroken. Still am. That it had gotten so bad that a content creator would freely air out her own dirty laundry to feed the rabid wolves and make her escape. And there were those who relished off of it. Happy she was gone. Making me sick and fueling my anger even more. 

And then there were more. Mostly men, cancelled here and there. I won't name names, but we know them. Know who they are if you followed any cancellation ever. And chased off usually over some stupid shit they said in their twenties or being accused of grooming. Which the former most of the time seems easier to bounce back from then the later. Being called a racist, homophobic, etc., can be subjective. Especially during this day and age when the internet is so unbelievably sensitive to everything because they read every word with malicious intent towards themselves specifically. But so many content creators get targeted at the height of popularity or just because they were extremely popular. It’s obvious. So well known, and the bigger they are, the harder they fall. And some if not many, y'know, don’t deserve it. Some if not many don’t deserve cancellation and I will bite with so much rage in my being on their part. I know they can probably take care of themselves, but there are so many who can’t. They can’t hold on in these seas of accusations.

And then there are those who bounce back. Many will argue that they shouldn’t, but after time many seem to have forgiven what they were canceled about or just simply don’t care. Like Mr. Logan Paul for example. The man had such a lack of sense that he filmed a dead body and posted that on Youtube. And now he is doing interviews for Mr Beast. I just find that one... Interesting? Now, I don’t know much about Logan Paul except for all his drama. I don’t care too much for him cause he’s pretty loud and that hurts my ears. Nor is his content for me. I don’t know much about him as a person at all and can’t speak on behalf of his character. I don't know if Logan Paul grew up or gained some common sense, but what I do know is that he held out. He washed off all the judgment and accusations, drama or whatever and held on. Which seems to be the only cure for cancel culture on the internet. Is to endure.

And I don't want these trolls to feel more empowered than they already do. Cause I hate these trolls and want to cave their teeth in. Or maybe expose them too. Show your face, cowards behind the screen. You accuse those who are wide out in the open of the most terrible things, at least have the balls to say it to their faces instead of hiding in your monitors.

And frankly, when has cancellation ever helped anyone? I find it very useless and it just hurts people. Maybe if it was directed at large corporations or films making ugly versions of sonic, then I could see that as impactful. But no, it usually goes after the individual which is just so stupid. Hounding them about the past and past shit they said. So idiotic, it baffles me that people still allow it. To let the trolls say they have moral superiority over you and what they say goes. Gross. And you just know that these bastards on the other side of the screen have done shit too. They’ve said the wrong thing to the wrong person. Probably worse. Made the nastiest of jokes and comments. And are just being hypocritical and immature. I know I am also not above people and stupid dark jokes and these trolls should quickly learn this too if they know what’s good for them.

And these cancellers certainly have a lot of time on their hands. They might be young. Maybe. Might be a stupid kid which if so I could expand the notion, that if it is a stupid kid, then yeah, they could be forgiven for what they've done one day as I would expect these content creators to be forgiven for the stupid shit they said in their youth one day too. But also, what they did was horrible. I would respect Forever if he actually went about suing someone, but I don’t think he can sue a child. But still, what a horrible child. If only their parents knew. That they are dismantling lives just because they find someone annoying.

But to be for real and realistic, I think this person is some sad boring unemployed troll who resents him for whatever reason and this is their way of retaliation. And with that... Forever get their ass. He is upending your life and attempted to do the same to some of your friends. Get em.

And lastly, if Forever really was a creep, which no he is not, I want to ask Quackity if he did background checks on any of these content creators? Or did he just invite them in which I could see as a major oversight. Because these creators, I feel like when inviting them into something like a Minecraft server, it’s akin to a sponsorship. It supports your project but you have to do a thorough background check to see if they are safe for stream. Which is just why I found that it doesn't make sense at all that at least Quackity wouldn't know about Forever’s past! With how rife and pungent cancel culture is now, if I was him, I'd be so on edge. Especially if it’s my passion project was on the line. And he should know what it's like, even at his young age, he should know from what he's seen. And maybe the QSMP was seen as something small at first so he didn’t make the precautions, but once QSMP was getting bigger, wouldn’t he have checked? He should have been able to as well. Some rando online found these tweets thanks to pure spite, I'm sure Quackity and co could have done some digging sooner, months earlier and have made a decision. So this, this here, makes the least sense to me out of this entire nonsensical situation. 

But hey, if Forever somehow is a freak which I can tell he’s not, then I will eat my words. But that is not today.

(Same with part 1. I will block you if I find you too annoying. My temper is short and my block button is sincerely right there.)

(But I have said what I wanted to say. There is probably more. But Goodbye for now.)

[nuclevi]

yellow is the right color for you. [k. ryouta]

sypnosis: you bestfriend is tired of watching you forgive your shit bf again and again. he should get a chance too, right?

warnings: hurt/comfort, includes some aomine x reader, he is a shit bf, mentions of a kpop group, crying, veryyy slight suggestive themes

w. count: 742

notes: i had noted this idea months ago and it came up in my mind again so i finished this in like 1 hour and i kinda like it

He finds you on the hill. Crying, again. 

Kise knew exactly where to find you after you ignored all of his 6 missed calls, 3 voice notes and 12 texts in the past hour alone. He also has a hunch on why you’re sobbing softly to yourself. With slow footsteps, quick breaths and a part of his heart breaking while listening to you cry, he slowly lowers himself beside you. 

You don’t turn. You don’t pause your cries. You know exactly who it is and so you only break down harder. “Fuck. Come here,” warm arms enclose your trembling body and bring your head close to his soft chest. “It’s him again, isn’t he?” Kise doesn’t know if he feels anger, sadness or frustration when you nod your head and confirm his suspicions. It’s always been like this since the start of your and aomine’s relationship. He fucks up, you cry. He gives a shitty apology, you comply. Except it never ended there, and this cycle continued. 

You didn’t know why you couldn’t leave him after all these months. Aomine was the dream of your life when you befriended him in college. After that, it just turned to a nightmare.Was it you? Maybe you weren’t doing good enough. You just didn’t make him happy enough. Maybe you’re clingy. Maybe you- “You’re the most marvelous person i’ve ever met. And I don't think anyone could replace that feeling.” You don’t even have to tell Kise how you feel. He just knows.

Maybe it was just attachment. Maybe, Aomine will change. For me. He would, right? “Aomine will not change, [name]. He’s never going to. Enough is enough.” You stare into yellow eyes as the night wind ruffles his blonde hair. Kise has your face in his hands. And you realize no one has ever held you as gently as him before. 

In any other scenario, this would’ve been a shot straight from a romance novel. Right now, your swollen eyes and Kise’s worrisome face ruins it all. His heart beats so loudly that he is afraid you might hear it, being so close. A frustrated part of him wants to stand up straight and bawl his eyes out on how much he loves you and you are blinded over blue hues to see it. Blue is not the right color for you. Yellow is. Another part of him wants to drag Aomine up through this very hill and bury him 6 ft deep. How could he make you cry like this? 

How could you let a man like him make you cry like this? 

Kise is tired of waiting and watching from the sidelines now. He wants to tell you how happy you make him. How he’s been head over heels for you ever since you bumped into him on this very hill and stepped on his toe. [his toe suffered swelling and redness that day but he won’t to tell you that.] How much he loves when you wear that blue cardigan in winters and he wishes winters never leave just so he could see you in that one piece of clothing forever. Even if it means he suffers from cold and sinus. 

“Stop forgiving him. I need a chance too.” 

“Huh?”

Now he can’t hold back. His lips meet yours in a quick and feeling manner. Its all very new to you. You had never seen him as more than a friend before. But this day changed it all. And you notice how soft his lips are. How smooth his skin looks. How pretty his hands look on top of yours. How kissable his neck seems. The first two buttons of the shirt he’s wearing are undone and you can see his chest- 

“Are you listening? Leave him, [name]. Dont let him hold so much power over you. And i am here. I have always been and I always will be. I’ll be the romance novel boyfriend you want. I’ll even get us the concert tickets of that hyping group you like. I'm sure that broke ass aomine couldn’t buy it for you, right?” You chuckle and nod. And Kise’s heart never beat so loudly before. “It’s called enhypen, you idiot.” He makes a note in his mind to make mistakes like this often so you could laugh more. 

“So, is that a yes?” This time you press your lips against his, hoping to confirm all your thoughts from before. 

[bananabeebenson]

I Can Fix Him

𝐈, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐚𝐦 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐝.

However, despite how far into the trenches I may be, I have my standards. Sadly, I don’t have very many standards, which means I am a filthy Doflamingo simp. Yes, I said it.

Now, some of you will come to understand me, others will ask ‘why’. Well, the answer is very simple.

𝕀 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕗𝕚𝕩 𝕙𝕚𝕞.

Doflamingo is a horrible man, I will never deny that, but he is hot, therefore I will forgive the fact he has a page and a half of crimes that would make the convention cry. I am instead, going to go into depth on the different ways I, a humble simp, would fix this man.

Because, as stated before, I can fix him.

Attempt to fix 1; handholding

This man has some nice hands. Hands that would both make an excellent necklace and to hold my own. Now, let’s keep in mind this is a BIG man. A tall man, with very nice hands.

Hands that have probably never been properly held.

I’m talking like, link the fingers, stroke the thumb over the back of the palm type of handholding. As in, you’re into it type of handholding. Why? Because who in their right mind would attempt to hold this man’s hands considering that is one of the most dangerous parts of him?

Well, I would.

Attempt 2; Therapy

This man had a fucked up childhood. I will not excuse that he was an asshole of a kid, but he also grew up in an environment of assholes that pushed him to be an asshole. His father DID try to help him, and lord did he try, but he pushed his family into an environment that sadly would never accept them, thus Dofy was pushed into a hostile environment. One that he was doomed to have never recovered in even if he had a change of heart from his father.

Then his entire life he spent tangled up between the two worlds that could never accept who he is. His name and his bloodline cursed him to live in a world he was no longer accepted in.

Thus, he needs therapy. Bad. Now, would the therapist survive this session with him considering what that therapist would need to say to him? Possibly not. But at least it’s an attempt.

Attempt 3: A hug

I’m talking that full-body, throw yourself into them hug. The ‘I’m happy to see you it feels like it’s been foreve’ types of hugs he’s probably never had. Not a pity hug or a forced “I’m afraid you’ll decapitate me if I don’t” type of hugs, but a full one “I love you” hug. 

Like, it would be hard considering how tall he is and that he’s on top of a high horse regardless, but they make stepping stools for a reason and I’m not above standing on a rolling chair just to hug this man.

Attempt 4: A nice homemade meal

Everything this man has ate has either been scraps from when his family was chased down, or luxurious meals that this man probably had someone else make. When is the last time he’s actually had someone make him a nice hearty soup, huh? How about just a grilled cheese; I bet he would enjoy that.

I’m just saying, it’s hard to be angry and uptight when someone makes you a nice, personalized meal from their heart. Most of the time.

Attempt 5: The most important; fuck him

Look, I started this by saying I’m down bad.

And I will be the first to say this man needs to get fucked. Not fucked as in someone from Dressrossa under his ruling comes to his needs when he requires them met, no I mean someone wines and dines this man and takes him to bed and fucks him. Hardcore, possibly a safeword, threats of death, and lots and lots of strange positions he would put you in. Fuck this man like your life depends on it and how could he ever be evil again if he’s too tired? Who has time after a marathon of positions to be evil?

Then again, he has a lot of stamina, so maybe this would end badly.

In conclusion

I can fix him, I promise. 

[according2thelore]

thank you so much for the tag in that post!!! i immediately forgot every fact about myself unfortunately BUT i have two follow up qs for y'all.........

MERLIN! i am also obsessed with merlin and btw if you have a merlin account you are OBLIGATED BY LAW to tell me. constitutional amendment from the obama era. i think the merlin <--> supernatural pathway is all about duty by the way. and also gay sex.

also charlotte consider this ask your one drink please 🍷 and DO TELL!

haha, that's so fair! we love follow-up qs!

lizzy:

uh-oh! by law you say?? i'm sweatin'...i also love merlin! so much! i cannot shut up about it, and i have written/continue to write for merlin under a different account...but i fear i might have to break the law on this one. and it's strictly for the reason that i have Very Normal friends not familiar with fandom that follow my writing/keep up with my other ao3 and if they find out i shake the boys from spn between my teeth like a dog, i would have some massive explaining to do. obama's gonna come break my door down 😔 i am kissing you passionately in apology! but i think folks like my merlin work pretty okay! my biggest merlin fic is around 100k hits, which blows my mind with violence each day lol

you get it!!! you get it so hard!!!!!! what drives me crazy about merlin and spn is the inevitability of it all. they are soulmates, and they are fated to be joined, but at what cost? literally what cost? they are opposed forces, hunter and hunted, but a bond of love and forgiveness and belonging that keep them tethered beyond separation. it's the continuous loss and torture and fear and not leaving! they don't want to leave! their lives would be easier if they didn't love each other, but they can't stop. and they HAVE SEX! one of the things that sticks in my brain so hard about merlin specifically is the lengths that merlin goes to protect/save uther for arthur's sake. like that level of devotion, even at the betrayal of self, is BARK INDUCING!!! i could write forever and ever amen about merlin, so if i don't stop now, this entire post will just be me yapping and yapping.

charlotte:

oh my god WELL a few moments stand out from that day. first, lizzy and I were THE ONLY ONES TO DRESS UP after lizzy explained that people dressed up at cons (this was my first con ever—baby’s first!). Also me when I lie lol there were a couple sexy castiels but I digress. (lizzy note: there was also a billie and death cosplayer that blew my fucking mind my beloved <3)

second, literally everyone at our con had already met the boys. like. a girl pulled out a BINDER with like 4 m&g photos per page and just kept flipping through it. so while we were nervous wrecks all day, everyone was mysteriously so…chill?? like we picked up food on the way there and barely ate any of it since we were making ourselves ill.

waiting in line?? girl embarrassing you wouldn’t have wanted to see us because we were HYPERVENTILATING. as soon as we cleared the doorway and saw jared, he made eye contact with us and kept glancing over the line to check when we were coming up (because of our slay niche fits) and as soon as we did, he said the episode BY NAME and told us we did a great job. (lizzy note: he was very excited and also his hand is as big is my waist i blacked out the whole thing if i didn’t have a pic i wouldn’t think it happened)

that man’s chest and arms. gigantic. bigger than my head. he was as solid as a piece of marble. we were like what the fuck. took our picture and NO JOKE we had to sit down on the floor in the hallway. we called lizzy’s mom. we bragged to the barista in the convention center, who was also very excited. we vomited and threw up because misha was next but in character and costume and let me just say

that man’s hands were FRIGID.

I’ll say it!! (looking at you lizzy who doesn’t remember it smh.) his m&g was slay ish because he was just smoldering and barely said anything (LMAO our man was tired and they were running 2 hrs behind). but! hilarious. I have both of the pictures hanging in identical frames next to each other in my first grown up apartment and it looks like the same photo at a first glance. it is the second most expensive thing on my wall (my diploma taking first 🤧).

and that…that was a glorious day. we’re trying to go again since jensen was sold out so we can complete the trifecta 🫶

-charlotte (& lizzy! hello! 2-for-1!)

[mntalbrakdown]

Take the Box - T. Holland

masterlist

mentions of: angst, cussing, marriage, commitment issues, screaming,

synopsis: tom tries to make amends, but you refuse to forgive

Inspired by: Take the box - Amy Winehouse

part 1 | part 2 a/n: alt! ending to tears dry on their own

Hours turn into days, days into weeks he felt like he was standing on the sidewalk forever and Tom knew he fucked up. He took out the ring and if he saw this months prior, it would make him smile, now he feels as though this shouldn’t belong to him. He did adore, care, and love you, he will always love you. He doesn’t know why he did what he did.

The tabloids going ballistic with the news of Tom and y/n having a public breakup. You have developed your name for yourself, of course, you being known as Tom’s girlfriend got you roles and a ton of more fame. You will always be grateful for him because you were so sick and tired of making coffee every day.

It was a Thursday and you decided to go get coffee in the same coffee shop you worked at. You didn’t want it spoiled with the worst memory you could imagine. So while you were out running errands you grabbed a coffee, you didn’t want tea anymore because it would remind you too much of him.

The bell rang from the top right corner of the door and you were greeted by the new barista. You gave a smile and ordered your coffee it has been years since you last drank coffee so you needed to find your flow back to it. The barista would always give you recommendations and you always took them.

After you finish your order you step aside and bring your computer out. You look at the cars passing by, you could swear you saw Tom with flowers and a drink in his hand. You had to take a double-take. He was coming your way. How did he know you were here? You blocked him so he couldn’t find you in any way.

When you hear the same bell ring and had to look up out of instinct. There he was, the man with flowers and a smile plastered on his face. How could he be so happy? He went up to the register and that’s when you couldn’t look up, you felt as though water was brewing in your eyes.. Did he move on that fast? How could he be so happy? But your thoughts were cut off short.

“Hey” you look up from your computer and meet eyes with the voice

“Oh, hi” you smile weakly

“what are you doing?” Tom takes a seat in front of you without asking

“Who are those flowers for” you tried to hide your jealousy, but couldn’t

“Oh, these are for you” as you take the flowers you make a mental note to read the letter it has in the middle

“Thank you,” you smile and put them next to your purse

“You didn’t answer my question”. He says with a smile. How could he act as nothing happened? Was he not hurt? Is he seeing someone?

“I am writing a script for a short film” You continue to finish your last thought and then close it “how did you find me?”

“Lucky guess”

“Doubt it, I think you’re stalking me,” you say in a flirty tone, which made you hate yourself because you were supposed to ignore him, you were supposed to hate him.

“Would it be such a crime?” he says grabbing your hand gently, scared you’d shatter at his touch, which made you flinch. How could you miss a person's touch so much? It felt like home something that you would always look back on no matter what would happen.

“I think it is,” you try to hide the smile that is coming up.

“Well what’s the script about” he didn’t want the conversation to end because he felt as if it did end he would wake up from the perfect dream and he would be depressed

“Umm, I don’t know how to put it nicely, but it's about us”

“Oh-“ you cut Tom off

“It doesn’t have our names and it’s slightly different” you had to reassure Tom before his thoughts spiraled, someting both you and him had in common.

“Oh ok” Tom takes a sip from his tea

“I don’t think I’ve ever asked, but why are you here?” You look down at your coffee

“I wanted to apologize, and before you cut me off please hear me out”

“Why should I” your mouth turned bitter because how could he try to come back to you after all of the hurt he has given to you. Why should you try to hear him out?

“Please, I fucked up y/n, I know you won't forgive me, and I get it, but I need you to hear me out, for me” This was for him, not even for you, the explanation you’ve been craving for weeks and he's doing this for himself? Is he that fucking selfish?

“This wasn’t supposed to happen” Tom tries to reach for you and it feels like you are pushing him away

“Oh, us breaking up after five fucking years and me crying in a yellow cab, that shit embarrassed me, Tom,that wasn’t supposed to happen? That’s fucking crazy” you acted mind blown you felt like people down the block could hear you and you weren’t sorry because this felt like this was the only way Tom could actually hear you

“Y/n please hear me out, I choked, I was going to propose to you that day, both you and I were shocked. I didn't know what I was doing, I promise I do love you I just don't know how to comfort people when they are upset, but if you asked where you were from-“ you cut him off again

“Knowing someone and loving someone is two completely different things Tom” you felt like you threw a dagger to his heart and it felt powerful

“Wait, I tried to be the best person for you, I still try to this day, I take you out and go driving at night on the freeway listening to your music, for you, it’s not because I was bored. I take sunset pictures every time I'm on set because it reminds me of you, I buy little knick knacks of things you would find cute when I'm filming, my mind only thinks about you. If you asked all the people I have worked with on set, I have mistaken my character's lover’s name for yours. I asked your dad if I could marry you and that man fucking scares me” With that Tom has left you crying for a completely different reason than before. You had to hide your face because you felt embarrased. You grabbed a napkin to wipe your tears away

“I was scared of commitment love, and that’s the funniest shit ever because I could not express to you how much I think of aging and having a family with you, I imagines getting a little house somewhere, anywhere you want to go, as long as you’re with me” He is now holding both your hands and you chuckle because you feel so exposed to him even though he has seen all of you.

“Prove it than” you look at him daringly, seriously

“You asked for it” Tom pulls out a small purple velvet box with your hopefully future initials. It was a beautiful ring with a silver band and had a raw diamond right in the middle, with three more little raw diamonds on each side, in the inside of the band it had his initials and your initials and the date you guys started dating, which made you tear up because this was the perfect ring

“So” Tom breaks out from the silence

“So what? just because you thought you knew me so well, and regret your actions, I should forgive you?" why was he here? You were finally moving on and he decided to re-open the wound.

“Would you do me the favor of marrying me?” Tom gets on one knee and takes the box from you. This is the perfect way of getting proposed you almost wish he didn't make you so upset the first time. You loved the way this was spontaneous a way you didn't get your hopes up.

”no” you say sternly

“really- wait what” Tom does a 360

”I can’t do this, I can’t have this” you point at the both of you

”do what” Tom was practically on his knees because he wanted you back

“I can't have a relationship that started as shit” “It didn't though” he replied at the speed of light

“But it did, you and I both know that you hurt me, and now expressing you love me? I can't do it.”

“Why though” Tom wasn't listening to you again. He was listening to the conversation but not the emotion

“I can't date, marry, or be friends with you Holland, it hurts me and I can't go on. I'm sorry, I won't be able to forgive myself if you hurt me again” and it's like a switch went off in Toms's mind knowing he fucked up knowing he will never have you again, he can live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve you

“I would never hurt you again” it pained tom to say again because he was an actual idiot and hurt you for the first and last time, it feels like he will continue his life trying to prove you can trust him again

“But you will! If you've done it before you'll do it again, history repeats itself, I'm sorry but I have to go” you smile taking off with the flowers he gave you and your other belongings. You felt like you were going to move city after city and he will follow you through all.

“Look I’m sorry” he tries to stop you before you finally leave him

“ok” you say with a straight face

“I will always apologize”

“Ok, I don’t forgive you”

You wanted to be friends because he has done so much for you, but you just couldn't, the wound is still too fresh. You grab another taxi finally being able to catch one yourself with yet again tear-stained eyes and go home.

You took your shoes off, threw your keys on the counter, and dropped the flowers on the ground. You just threw yourself on the bed. You cried into your pillow because it was supposed to be a good day, you then realized you should take all your emotions you have right now and write them in your book.

You sat at your desk, looking at the time pass by, you couldn't focus on the book when all your emotions were everywhere. You heard a knock at the door, hoping it was one of your Christmas orders that came in. Christmas is right around the corner and needing retail therapy to get you out of your slump.

"I punched all the buzzers to try to come in" the infamous spider-boy back at it

"I thought the cafe was the last time I would see you" you say smugly

"I was hoping you were here, I know I talked a lot back there, but somehow I didn't say what I wanted to say"

"You're like glitter Holland, the more I rub, the more comes up and annoys the fuck out of me" you step aside so he can step in

"did you just call me pretty?" he says cockily

"I can kick you out" making him immediately know that you aren't in the mood.

"I like what you've done with the place"

"Tried everything to forget you" you smile innocently even though you just hurt Tom's feelings

"Did a really good job"

"Tom, whats going on? Whatever you are going to say make it quick my head hurts" you try to hurry up and make him leave

"You say I always get my way, but I really want you, back"

"I don't want to feel trapped when I am with someone Tom, I don't want to feel like an object, that's the one thing I promised myself that I would never be"

"I really miss the old us, the old you before I came in and how you were so happy"

"Me too, pretty things always get ruined" you sit on your couch because you wouldn't be able to handle this conversation standing.

"I just really want you to have it, wear it or not, I at least want you to keep the ring that was meant for you, I don't want anything in return"

"Tom, I can't, it is probably so expensive" you try to block where he was going to leave it

"Just take it, take the box" he sounded sincere almost hurt. With that, he left, with no other remark

The person you were this evening, the person you were 6 years ago is not you anymore. You never will be the same. It felt like you were missing something. You felt like writing him a letter trying to apologize to him. You knew you couldn't or else he would've thought he got his way back in. He knew it wasn't like you, you both knew you were a sympathetic person. Now all you felt was anger, an immense amount of anger, you had no place to place your emotions and you were growing frustrated. You couldn't write or it would be pure shit. You decided on baking. You could break things and wisk everything aggressively. Have something delicious at the end.

You decided to play music, and the music you. Having fun cracking eggs and using new flavors, All of a sudden the same songs played when you were with Tom, it was like everything was reminding you of him. The one thing you didn't want to happen, was happening. You didn't want to be reminded of him. So you left your half-done baking project there and left the kitchen. Then went back to the door ready to leave your apartment all over again, when his cologne just smacked you in the face. You tried so hard to forget him, all to be reminded of him again, and now you decide to turn on a candle. To mask his scent and forget him.

You don't know who you are anymore, You don't know who he is anymore. You just don't know him. But he makes you cry. Where is the goodbye you have been longing for, for the past 6 months? Where do you put the box? The box that is going to haunt you forever. You wish he took it. You walk around trying to find the perfect hiding spot. Somewhere you won't go all the time, but some place you won't start bawling your eyes out if you find it. You need it to be camouflaged. You stumble back to the door. The flowers sitting on the ground where you last left them. right next to it you see the small note that he wrote to you.

Dear y/n,

I can't bare look at the ring, let alone the box. I can't sell it because that would feel like a permanent goodbye, that I will never be comfortable with. I need you to keep it, I need you to keep it because it was is meant for you.

Love,

Tommy

[virusinfected-memes]

TIK TOK SENTENCE STARTERS, PT. 5 ;

85 starters. CW: cussing, sexual themes, violence. Some starters are just random quotes from Tik Tok creators, some starters are from Tik Tok trends that have popped up over the past year or so. The original sources of these trends are from various memes, shows, songs, and other popular media. Feel free to change words and pronouns as needed! [PARTS: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4]

"Alright, on your knees, mortal scum! You stand in the presence of _____!"

"Always remember: you may not be able to change the past, but you can still ruin the future."

"Am I ever gonna get it?"

"And if you call me a bitch, make sure to put 'sensitive' in front of it."

"And I keep my side of the street clean. You wouldn't know what I mean."

"But I can't forgive you."

"But I don't want to stay in the middle."

"Can I get a kiss? And can you make it last forever?"

"Come out and haunt me."

"Did I mistake you for a sign from God?"

"Don't be ridiculous, _____. Everybody wants this."

"Don't try to find me."

"Do you ever just have this deep seated desire to bother people? I have clown blood."

"Do you think I'm fragile?"

"Do you wanna dance, baby?"

"Everybody wants to rule the world."

"Get in, sparkle farts! We got chaos to spread!"

"Help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure."

"Honey, I love you. I think you're a terrific girl. But you have clothes like a fucking dickhead."

"I can't take Benadryl because I owe the Hat Man money and I don't want to see him."

"I didn't know I could love something this much until I laid my eyes on you."

"I don't ever wanna see you and I never wanna miss you again."

"I don't need to be fixed. I need to be rebuilt."

"If you touch that again, I shall kill you right now. Do not touch this! This is a 'no touching' zone!"

"I got nothing to lose."

"I guarantee I gotcha'."

"I have not behaved one single day of my life. Not one single day have I behaved and I'm fine."

"I just can't say goodbye."

"I just heard a butt-curdling scream."

"I know that violence is not the answer, but... Yes, it is."

"I know you see me looking at you on the daily."

"I know you want me."

"I love that Netflix was like, "OoOoh, we're gonna reduce your quality to 480p if you don't pay us more!" Like, bruh... I come from the land of 144p Naruto episodes cut into sixteen parts on YouTube. 480 is luxury. 480 is bouge."

"I'm absolutely a danger to my own mental health."

"I'm comin' back for you, baby."

"I mean, look at this thing! I can't imagine a more beautiful thing."

"I mean, what if I don't want to live the way you live?"

"I might be broke as hell tomorrow, but that's alright, 'cause I'm that bitch today."

"I might kill my ex. Not the best idea."

"I'm in a trance lately."

"I'm not going to nap. I'm just going to rest my eyes and clench my teeth for a little while."

"Im not like other girls. I'm worse."

"I'm one of those witches, babe."

"I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say."

"I'm the love witch. I seduce men with my spells, my potions, my eyes, and my body."

"I'm tired of working on myself. I will now be unapologetically insane."

"I never make the same mistake twice. I make it, like, six or seven times."

"In my dreams, I'm making you pasta and nothing bad has happened to us yet."

"I said I wasn't gonna be judgmental, but fuck it. I'm sick, I have an excuse."

"I think I like when it rains."

"It's already too late for you to try and run away."

"It's me. Hi. I'm the problem, it's me."

"I want to get on my broomstick and fly away with my kitty to another city to work on my witch powers, then live with a pregnant woman who owns a bakery and start a delivery service."

"I want to go to there."

"I was at about six there. You don't wanna see me go to ten."

"Mortals, behold! The glory of the kill is mine!"

"No, I don't think you understand. I'm obsessed."

"Normalize being a sleepyhead. It's okay to be eternally trapped within the realm of ancient dreams."

"Nothing ever lasts forever."

"Not working out? Not eating right? Fucked up sleep schedule? You aren't depressed. You're on your way to achieving tremendous arcane power. Become the wizard you were meant to be."

"Oh, you think the b-word's offensive? You should hear what I say in the Call of Duty lobbies."

"Okay, I don't know how you went this long without knowing this, but there are people out there who create original Sonic the Hedgehog characters, and often those characters fuck."

"Okay, well, what you said was some bullshit. That's what it is."

"Okay... Why'd you have to fucking bring that up?"

"One kiss is all it takes."

"Something horrible is happening inside of me and I don't know why."

"So you're telling me if I killed your family, you wouldn't be my friend anymore?"

"Take a swing. Here's my neck."

"The next time you feel lazy, remember that laziness is a puritanical myth based on the sin of idleness and is used to oppress people into forced labor."

"There are currently no bug-dragon dual type Pokémon, but I wanna share a few insects that I think would make good candidates for being the first."

"They keep on asking me who is he."

"What are you gonna do with that? You gonna hit me? Better make it count. Better make it hurt. Better kill me with one shot."

"Whatever I've done, I did it for love."

"Which was more culturally significant? The Renaissance... or 'Single Ladies' by Beyoncé?"

"Who wants to look simple when you can look stunning?"

"Why do I keep getting attracted?"

"Why don't you sit right down and stay a while?"

"Why do we keep telling people who aren't freaky that they're vanilla? Vanilla is the freakiest flavor. Like, look at ice cream, for example. It goes good with all of the toppings. Vanilla doesn't care who you pair it up with, so long as they get on top. I aspire to be as slutty as vanilla is. Also, if you are a slut, what flavor of ice cream are you, bitch? Pistachio? Neo-political? That's fucking disgusting."

"Will I get over it? No. But life goes on."

"Yeah, I'm gay. Good at Yu-Gi-Oh."

"Yes, I am doing blasphemy! Yes!"

"You better fix my entire life, you little shit."

"You can't keep me waiting."

"You might play the same games as me, but I play them in a far worse and more unskilled way than you ever will."

"You're just being cynical."

[thenewfuture]

Um... mod?

Can I ask you the question?

Why do you abuse poor Hiyoko so much? Like, you treat her as a bad guy in an even more insufferably hypocritical way than the original DR2 game was.

Fuyuhiko cruelly murders Mahiru, frames Hiyoko for it, and tries to get the entire class executed in the class trial. Yet you make Mahiru forgive him. Hiyoko wants to non-lethally hurt Mikan. You may Mahiru throw a fissy hit over it and break up her friendship with Hiyoko over it. Even though, from any sane perspective, Hiyoko is practically a saint when compared to Fuyuhiko.

I kinda applaud you. As a Hiyoko kinnie, Mahiru is obviously my second favorite character after Hiyoko herself. And yet... you had created a version of Mahiru I absolutely despise now. When I had read her breaking her friendship with Hiyoko now, my blood boiled. And when Mahiru said later she is "not going to forgive easily" the girl who made a shrine to mourn her death and literally got herself killed because she wanted to honor Mahiru's memory... While easily forgiving her own fucking killer (Peko)... I had literally wanted to beat the shit out of your version of Mahiru while screaming at "YOU UNGRATEFUL SELF-RIGHTEOUS CUNT!!! WHY ARE YOU BEING SUCH A PIECE OF SHIT KOIZUMI!!!"

Please inform me if you plan on Mahiru repairing her friendship with Hiyoko on this blog (and asking from Hiyoko forgiveness for being such an ungrateful traitor), so I can know if I should block your blog forever to avoid damaging my mental health, or give your story a second chance.

Block me. Block me straight up.

I’m kind of tired and done with this whole discourse of how “bad” I wrote Hiyoko. I won’t deny I may have gone too far at times, but holy shit are we really going with this? Is this my legacy? Is this my one stain? I wrote the bully character too much of a bully? Really? Is this going to be continued to be brought up long after the fact?

Oh, also. You straight up did not play or watch the game if you ever THOUGHT Fuyuhiko killed Mahiru. THAT WAS PEKO! Did Fuyuhiko lie and try to hide the culprit? Yes. Because he cared about Peko and to not die as being the blackened. But yes, Fuyuhiko did kill Sato. Because she in turn killed her little sister, and Mahiru was also implied to lie about it!

THERE IS NO INNOCENT PERSON IN THIS STORY! ALL PARTIES ARE GUILTY!

And you must have not read my blog too if you think that she forgave Fuyuhiko and Peko so easily! It was a damn second arc about it! Hiyoko was suggesting to kill Mikan, and I even wrote her to actually try and kill Mikan once! Of course Mahiru won’t forgive that so easily! It would hurt even more because she’s her friend!

But to end this nicely, and this goes out to any other anons reading this with the same feelings: if my story and or blog is making you uncomfortable and perhaps hurting your mental health. Go. Leave. Please do. Value your health first and foremost over some dumb story and write your own.

I. Am so sick. And tired of this conversation.

Just. Go.

-Mod

[forever-rogue]

💫💞helloo!! your fics always make my day and are a joy to read. thank you so much for giving us lovely stories💫

meet cutes are my favorites ever, i was wondering if I could request a coffee shop meet cute for soft tired boy steven 🥺 maybe the classic spilled coffee all over you meet cute? 🥺🥺

AN | Okay but this probably my favorite trope ever!! 🥰 Enjoy!

Pairing | Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 1.3k

Masterlist | Main, Moon Knight

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A heavy yawn escaped your lips as you stepped through the doors of your favorite café. You’d just gotten off another overnight shift at the hospital, ready for sleep more than anything, but that wasn’t in the cards just yet. You still had plenty of things to do at home before you could relax, so the only logical solution to that was coffee, naturally. You gave Jenn, the barista you saw almost every time, your order before paying and leaving a generous tip as you waited for the warm, tasty cup of goodness. The place was crowded for it being so early in the morning, and you stood in the corner to stay out of the way and wait. 

It seemed to take forever, for which you blamed absolutely no one, but when you heard your name being called you practically bounded over to the counter. The sweet, wonderful caffeine was calling out to you, enchanting as a siren.

You were so focused on your task of grabbing your coffee (and fresh poppyseed muffin of course) that you were most definitely not paying attention. So wrapped up and out of it that you crashed right into a warm, thick wall of muscle. You were stopped in your tracks with a small oof as the other customer's coffee smashed between the two of you and all over your scrubs and his shirt.

"Fuck me," the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop them. The warm liquid, thankfully no longer scalding, quickly soaked into your top, effectively crushing your spirit. You looked at the poor man you'd done this to, ready to apologize and beg for forgiveness, "I am so, so sorry."

It was only when you looked up, that you realized how very handsome he was. Oh. Oh. You weren't prepared for that. The look of exasperation on his face quickly melted into a bemused smile as he watched you. He was handsome in every sense of the word and it almost rendered you speechless. At least he was wearing a dark shirt, you supposed. 

"It's alright," he insisted softly and you were practically willing the floor to open up and swallow you whole. Did he have to be handsome and sound like that? He tossed the crushed cup into the trash and went to fetch some napkins, "accidents happen."

"But it was totally my fault," you reminded him, casting a weary look at your own coffee sitting and waiting for you, "I got so excited about my coffee that I totally forgot about anything else.”

"Busy morning?" he asked as he tried to soak up some of the coffee from his shirt.

"Long night," you smiled softly, "I'm on the overnight shift at the hospital right now. But still…I-I'm sorry. Please, let me at least buy a new coffee or a new shirt or something. Dry cleaning maybe? I think it could be salvaged."

"Don't worry," he put his hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, "really, it's fine. This will wash right out. Plus the coffee was almost empty. Please, don't let me keep you from yours."

"I…" you nodded softly when you realized he wasn't going to budge and let you get him back for anything, "okay. I hope you have a much better rest of your day."

"I'd say my day is going pretty well already," and he definitely had the most gorgeous smile on top of it, "I hope yours gets better, darling."

He held up his hand and offered you a little wave before turning to leave. But…you didn't want him to. Not yet anyway. You had already made a large fool out of yourself and quickly decided that it couldn't really get much worse. So you just went with it, "wait! I, ugh, I didn't get your name."

"Steven," he turned around, bemused twinkle on his dark eyes, "Steven-with-a-v."

"It was nice to meet you, Steven," you felt like a puppy as you just watched him with big, innocent eyes. He asked for your name, which you easily gave; listening to him repeat it almost made you weak in the knees, "see you around."

"I hope so," he agreed softly.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

For reasons you weren't willing to admit out loud to yourself, you made it even more of a point to go to the small café after your shift ended. Totally just because you wanted to support a small local business and liked the coffee. Totally only for those reasons. Definitely.

But when you saw the man that had been occupying a lot more of your thoughts than you wanted to admit again, your heart skipped a few beats and butterflies fluttered in your stomach. You were sitting at the small counter by the window, flicking through the news on your phone and trying to act as nonchalant as possible. Should you ignore him? Should you go and speak to him? Should you-

"Hello again," his voice quickly pulled you out of your little dilemma as he sat down next to you, "fancy meeting you here."

"Steven! I - ugh…umm. Hi," great. Now he was going to think you were a stammering idiot on top of it all. Your face flushed with warmth as he watched you intently, "its nice to see you again. This time I didn't even spill on you!"

Fucking hell. You might as well just run out and never look back.

"Well I suppose there's still plenty of time to do that," there was a teasing lilt to his voice as he nudged your leg with his, "but we don't have to do that either. We can just talk and drink coffee."

"You want to talk to me?" your eyes widened in surprise as he tutted lightly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, "like…really?"

"Yes," he chuckled softly as a wave of dark crimson crept into his cheeks and ears, "I've seen you around before. A lot of times actually. I just never knew…how to come up to you and say anything. You made it easy when we had our little fiasco."

"You've been…wanting to talk to me?" you pointed between the two of you as he just nodded. Huh. Maybe you weren't the only fool around. He bit the inside of his cheek before answering in the affirmative, "and here I thought it was just me! That's…you could have just come up and said anything."

"I didn't know exactly what I'd say or how I'd casually go about it," he shrugged innocently, "but to be fair, darling, you didn't say anything either!"

"I…got nervous," you confessed, "but maybe I'm glad for my lack of attention and the squishing of your poor coffee."

"Would you like to go to dinner?" he blurted out before realization crossed his features, "obviously in the night time, not early in the morning. If I'm overstepping-"

"Like a date?" your heart was practically bursting out of your chest.

"Like a date," he confirmed, "but we don't have to or anything but…yeah."

"I'd love to," you grinned eagerly, leaning your body towards him, "really, Steven. I think that would be lovely."

"Great," his whole face lit up with excitement, "its a date then."

"It's a date," you couldn't remember the last time you were this excited for anything, let alone a date with a handsome man. Maybe spilling that coffee wasn't so bad after all…

"Yes," his voice softened as he leaned in so only you could hear him, "can I ask you something."

"Anything."

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes," you beamed at him, "please."

[welpitty]

hello i am losing my mind

remeber how aziraphale said "I forgive you" in the first season? remeber how that was a declaration of love? remeber how Crowley said before that he was unforgivable and aziraohale forgave him? remember how we all decided he was in love and this was his way of saying "i love you"?

now, remebr season 2? The last 10 minutes?

when crowley kissed him and he felt so many emotions and he felt complete and final but but BUT metatron existed. he wanted to tell crowley the truth. "i love you"

but he was back. 4 years after and in square one. afraid of saying one step out of line, afraid of bending God's rules. 4 years of freedom and then he had to go.

our poor little angel was so tired. he had been loving Crowley for SO LONG and he had gotten his kiss and he could feel it on his lips and then he rembered. he could forgive his mistakes, he could forgive him not coming he could LOVE him. but... our angel was never good with emotions was he.

"i forgive you" was aziraphale's "i love you"

crowley heard it as "i forgive you for kissing me" but it was "i love you for kissing me"

rember how we decided that forgiveness was love?

remember how we, he, forgot?

remember how i lost my fucking mind because they are adrift because of a MIS.UNDER.STANDING. and it was a MIS UNDER STANDING of so many words like

nothing lasts forever- aziraphale meant that he knows the bookshop will not last forever, but they can. they will.

nothing lasts forever- crowley heard that the bookshop, the world, them, nothing lasts forever

ITS THE SAME WITH THE I FROGIVE YOU.

CROWLEY DIDNT HEAR I LOVE YOU

he heard "i forgive you for kissing me and i forgive you for ever being here"

replace forgive with love and you have what aziraphale wanted.

so imagine aziraphale, who thought Crowley knew him best. that Crowley was the one person who knew him perfectly, inside out, said "don't bother" to his I love you.

crowley meant "don't bother forgiving me angel. won't change that i can't forgive myself. won't change that nothing lasts forever."

aziraphale heard "don't bother loving me. this is your fault. you lost this relationship and you will never have me again. don't bother."

those ENTIRE 10 minutes were a massive misunderstanding and could be resolved with communication.

I'm so sane bro not raging at all.