#i was thinking very deeply about the conversations we have had about these two. especially with the concepts of home and finding those

[asidian]

Edwin is a fascinating character for a lot of reasons, but one I haven't delved into very deeply yet is the juxtaposition between the fact that he is genuinely, earnestly kind while also simultaneously being unsure of how to express that kindness.

He was raised in a time when physical affection and emotional conversations were avoided if not actively discouraged. On top of that, he's had 70 years in hell in survival mode that did not help him hone his people skills at all.

But we see him try, again and again, especially for Charles.

The most memorable instances are, of course, when Edwin offers Charles comfort after his breakdown at the beach, the two separate offers to talk if Charles needs to, the hug, and their meeting in the attic with the lantern.

But there's one small moment that isn't as obvious; I didn't notice it at all on my first few watch-throughs.

It's just after the Devlin house, when Charles has had a truly awful night. Edwin has just started to understand the scope of how upset he is by what happened there, and why.

And then we get this remarkable exchange:

While Charles is lost in his thoughts somewhere behind that thousand-yard stare, Edwin gives Crystal a straightforward, earnest, not at all backhanded compliment. It's the first time he does; compared to the one he offers her in the episode with the sprites, this is practically effusive.

By itself, it's a very sweet moment between the two of them as their relationship develops.

And it is that.

But it's something else, too. Because this is how Edwin follows it up:

Crystal hearing it isn't enough.

He wants Charles to hear it.

In fact, he wants Charles to hear it so badly that he pauses, waits for Charles to react, doesn't get a reaction, and asks again.

Yes, this compliment is meant for Crystal, but it's meant for Charles, too – in a different way.

This is Edwin playing nice, like Charles has been wanting him to do since episode one. This is him giving Charles what he's been making puppy dog eyes over for days now.

This is Edwin pulling out the thing he thinks will make Charles the happiest. This is Edwin, fumbling to figure out what will help.

The hug that Charles needs so desperately isn't for some episodes yet – and these boys do get there eventually.

But I dearly love this first uncertain step on the path to Edwin figuring out what Charles needs from him.

He may not have the best instincts when it comes to handling social situations, but by god, he's so very kind, and he's trying, and there is something unspeakably sweet about that.

[starsjulia]

16 going on 28 // leah williamson

a/n : so sorry about my month long hiatus, but i am back!!! and i’ve got you guys some leah x gobby!reader but reader is now carrying leah’s baby! pls let me know if you’d like a part two because i deeply enjoyed writing this one.

warnings : suggestive, pregnancy, reader being a shitbag, and this is so cute i almost cried beavyse i am so single

“We’ve got a problem,” you announce gravely.

Leah groans, face buried back into the pillow. “If this is about the toast being too crispy again—”

“It’s burnt, Leah. There’s a difference.”

Leah peeks at you, a smirk creeping across her face. “You literally asked for it ‘extra golden.’”

“That’s not the same as setting it on fire, is it?” You huff, waddling dramatically back towards the kitchen, belly leading the way. “Honestly, it’s like living with a pyromaniac.”

Leah finally drags herself out of bed, following the trail of muttered complaints. She wraps her arms around you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder.

“Morning, love,” she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your neck.

You try to maintain the façade of being very cross, but your face betrays you, lips twitching.

“Don’t think you can seduce me out of my rage, Williamson.”

“Oh, I definitely can,” she murmurs, kissing the spot behind your ear—the spot she knows drives you mad.

You shiver despite yourself, turning in her arms. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re obsessed with me.”

“God, it’s embarrassing how right you are.”

After training, the team lounges around, trying to relax. You waddle into the room, plopping down next to Leah with an exaggerated sigh.

“Leah,” you announce dramatically, “your child is ruining my life.”

Leah doesn’t even look up from her phone. “You mean our child.”

“No, because my child would’ve had better manners.” You rub your belly with mock disapproval. “This one’s clearly yours—rude as hell, keeping me up all night.”

The team snickers, already used to your daily monologues of suffering.

Beth pipes up, grinning, “Didn’t you literally say yesterday that you ‘loved being pregnant’?”

“That was before I sneezed and peed a little, Beth.”

The room erupts into laughter. Leah finally looks up, shaking her head with a fond smile. She reaches over, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’re beautiful when you’re ranting.”

You squint at her. “I’m beautiful all the time, but thanks for noticing.”

Leah leans in, her voice low. “Especially when you’re moaning.”

The room goes silent.

“OH MY GOD,” Viv groans, covering her face with her hands. “Can’t we have one conversation without you two flirting like teenagers?”

“No,” you and Leah respond in unison, both grinning like idiots.

You’re both in Tesco, which was Leah’s first mistake because pregnancy has turned you into an unfiltered, walking hazard.

“I want crisps,” you declare, standing in front of the snack aisle.

Leah, already holding three bags, sighs. “Babe, you’ve got enough crisps to feed the whole team.”

“Well, the team isn’t carrying a small human and emotional trauma, are they?” You grab another bag, tossing it dramatically into the cart. “These are for survival.”

Leah snickers, steering the cart like she’s driving a getaway car.

At checkout, the cashier glances at your growing belly. “Aw, when are you due?”

Before Leah can answer, you deadpan, “Oh, I’m not pregnant. I just like snacks.”

Leah chokes on her own spit, trying to stifle her laughter while the poor cashier looks like she’s about to evaporate from awkwardness.

Outside, Leah doubles over, tears in her eyes. “You’re evil.”

You grin, proud. “I keep you entertained.”

She pulls you in for a quick kiss, her laughter fading into something softer. “I keep you loved.”

Your heart squeezes, but you cover it with a grin. “Yeah, yeah. Now carry the bags, I’m fragile.”

Later that evening, you’re sprawled on the couch, Leah sitting between your legs, massaging your swollen feet.

“You know,” she murmurs, fingers kneading gently, “pregnancy suits you.”

You snort. “Yeah? I’m sweaty, swollen, and have heartburn from drinking water, Leah.”

She leans back, her eyes dark with something warmer, deeper. “Still the fittest person I’ve ever seen.”

You arch a brow, biting your lip. “You’re only saying that ‘cause I’m growing your child.”

Leah shifts, her hand sliding up your leg, just enough to make your breath hitch. “Nah. I fancied you even when you were just a gobshite with an attitude problem.”

You grin, pulling her closer until your faces are inches apart. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve still got the attitude.”

She kisses you softly at first, then deeper, her hands cradling your face like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

When you finally pull back, breathless and grinning, you whisper, “Still whipped, huh?”

Leah presses her forehead against yours, her smile soft and full of love. “More than ever.”

later, kettle whistles in the background, but you’re too busy glaring at Leah to care. She’s leaning against the kitchen counter with that smug grin—the one that says she thinks she’s hilarious—while you sit on the couch, belly protruding like a smug reminder of your current, swollen state.

“I swear to God, Leah,” you huff, struggling to adjust the blanket around you, “if you make one more joke about me ‘waddling,’ I’m throwing your protein powder in the bin.”

Leah snorts, unapologetically stirring her tea. “You do realise you’ve married an athlete? Go ahead baby, i’ll get another fifty packs shipped to our door tomorrow.”

You narrow your eyes, lips twitching despite yourself. “Don’t test me. I’m hormonal, hungry, and hot. Triple H—but not the sexy wrestler kind.”

Leah bursts out laughing, nearly spilling her tea. “Triple H? You’re such an idiot.”

“Oh, I’m the idiot? Says the woman who wore her very new very expensive white trainers, which i did tell you was a bad idea, in the rain last week and then acted shocked when they got dirty.”

She walks over, still grinning, and plops down beside you. “At least I can still see my feet.”

You gasp, mock-offended. “I’m growing a human, Williamson. What’s your excuse for that forehead?”

Leah nearly chokes on her tea, coughing and laughing simultaneously. “You’re so mean,” she wheezes, eyes crinkling with affection.

You roll your eyes but lean into her anyway. “Yeah, well, you love it.”

She presses a kiss to your temple, her hand instinctively resting on your belly. “I really do.”

The team is gathered in the lounge of a hotel post match, and you’ve made the grave mistake of standing up too quickly.

“Ugh,” you groan dramatically, gripping your back. “I feel like I’ve aged 40 years in nine months.”

Beth smirks from across the room. “You sound like it too.”

You flip her off without missing a beat. “Didn’t ask for commentary, Bethany.”

The girls burst into laughter. Leah watches, amused, shaking her head.

“I don’t know how you survive,” Beth says to Leah, chuckling.

Leah shrugs, biting back a grin. ”it’s character-building.”

You glare at her. “Character-building? Please. You’re lucky to have me.”

Leah saunters over, wraps an arm around your shoulders, and kisses your cheek. “Yeah, I am.”

The team groans in unison. “Get a room!”

You stick your tongue out like a child. “Jealousy’s a disease. Get well soon.”

Leah wakes up to you standing over her with a look of pure desperation.

“I need ice cream,” you whisper like it’s a life-or-death situation.

Leah squints at the clock. “It’s 3 AM.”

“And the ice cream won’t buy itself.”

Fifteen minutes later, she’s standing in the kitchen, hair a mess, wearing mismatched socks, scooping ice cream into a bowl.

She hands it to you with a tired smile. “Happy?”

You take a bite, sigh dramatically, then look at her with faux seriousness. “You’re lucky you’re fit.”

Leah laughs, leans down, and kisses you softly. “Yeah. And you’re lucky I’m whipped.”

[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Behind Closed Doors 2

You welcome Spencer back to the team with a special gesture of your own—and find yourself falling even harder for him after he opens up to you.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) sub older spence my beloved, handjob, oral (m), spit kink?, semi-public (they are FREAKY), and idk if we can call this angst but we get to know how he feels about returning to work ~3.9k words

A/n: I didn’t plan for a part two, but rewriting scenes with specific looks of him is growing on me. Also, this happens before Emily tells him to teach seminars on his leave. And tell me what you think!!

He looked good in pink.

That was an understatement, the man looked good in pretty much anything. But today? Something was different. Something looked different. His whole appearance seemed to be on point than usual. You noticed his typically tousled hair was styled and swept back, which was a very rare sight, and it was hard for you to look away.

“…as you have obviously heard, Dr. Spencer Reid has been fully reinstated,” Emily announced, snapping you back to reality. “Welcome back, Spence.”

“Whoo-hoo! Yes!” Penelope cheered, only to be met by Emily’s pointed look. “That’s not the end, is it?”

Your boss shook your head and then proceeded to continue with another announcement. You stole a glance towards him again.

Maybe it was just really his shirt that made him look good? It wasn't even overly tight, but snug enough to accentuate the lines of his broad shoulders. Has his shoulders always been that wide? Now that you think about it, he did seem to be putting on a little weight. Not that it was a bad thing, and not that you didn't like how he looked before, but you couldn't help noticing how he filled out his shirt, and for some reason, it was doing something to you. 

Probably more than something because now you wondered what other places he filled out.

A sudden round of applause filled the room, and you joined in, tearing your gaze away from him only to find Matt Simmons grinning at you. You looked away and followed everyone as they shuffled around the room, making sure to sit as far away from Spencer as possible, although luck wasn't on your side when Matt settled into the seat beside you.

"You don't seem too thrilled about me joining the team," he murmured, leaning in close.

“What do you mean? I’m always open to new faces around here.”

“Not as excited as having an old member back, though,” Matt remarked, prompting you to snap your head at him, a slight frown forming on your face. He winked teasingly, and you groaned, shoving his shoulder away. 

“Ugh, do not wink at me.”

His laughter filled the air, but it quickly faded as the atmosphere in the room turned serious. Penelope began briefing everyone on the new case, and you did your best to mask your grimace every time a gruesome picture flashed on the screen. By the time Emily called out, “Wheels up in thirty,” you rose from your seat.

To talk to him or not talk to him?

You weighed the pros and cons, sneaking a quick glance at Spencer, who was deeply absorbed in studying the case files. The logical part of your brain told you it wasn't the best time to strike up a conversation, especially with only thirty minutes left until you had to leave. But there was something about him, it felt almost instinctual, like you were naturally drawn to him, and like a magnetic force, you couldn't resist.

Oh, fuck it—you decided to approach him.

Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you made your way over to where he was sitting, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

"Hi.”

"Hey," he greeted, looking up with a small smile at the corners of his lips. "What's up?"

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

"Sure," Spencer replied, his expression curious yet amused. He set aside the files he had been studying and turned his attention fully to you.

“In private?”

There was a brief pause, and you swore you could practically cut the tension with a knife. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he rose from his seat, his gaze never wavering from yours. You tilted your head back to look at him as his presence seemed to fill the room,and you couldn't help but hold your breath as you waited for his response.

“Of course,” he finally agreed, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer before he turned, leading the way to a more secluded spot, past the bullpen, past the glass doors, and down the hallway.

Once you were both out of earshot, he leaned in. “How private are we talking about?”

You nudged his side before guiding him towards the nearest office. As you stepped inside, your heart pounded in your chest, and you quickly glanced around the room to make sure it was empty. When you confirmed it was unoccupied, you turned back to see Spencer closing the door behind him.

Then everything snapped.

You weren't sure who made the first move, whether it was you or both of you acting on instinct, but before you could process it, his lips were on yours, his arms pulling you close, tongue colliding with your own. You gasped at his eagerness and wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you pressed yourself against him.

With a boldness you didn’t know you possessed, you pushed him against the nearest wall, your hands tangling in his hair as his hands found their way to your ass, squeezing lightly. A soft moan escaped your lips and he responded by deepening the kiss further. It felt like time stood still as you lost yourself in the heat of his mouth against yours, until you finally pulled back, your lips brushing against his jaw.

“What…” He gasped when your mouth trailed lower. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned into his neck, his scent filling your senses. Why did he have to smell so good? “I think it’s your hair.”

“My… hair?”

You pulled back slightly, your fingers tracing along the collar of his shirt, your eyes roaming over the exposed skin of his chest where the top buttons were left undone. “Or maybe it’s the shirt.”

“My shirt?”

“Yes!” You half-exclaimed, half-whispered, trying to keep your voice down. “I think I’m ovulating and you’re not helping.”

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, a flush creeping up his neck as he processed your words. "Oh," he managed to say. “I didn't expect that.”

"Sorry," you apologized, feeling your cheeks warm with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to—”

But before you could say anything else, his expression softened, and his grip on your hips tightened. "Hey, it's okay," he reassured you. “It’s common for women to experience changes in their hormones during ovulation. It's completely natural and nothing to be embarrassed about."

You looked up at him, your hands sliding down his chest. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Yes, it’s just your body doing its thing,” he said reassuringly. "And honestly, it's kind of flattering to know that... I have that effect on you."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as your palms drifted lower. “What else do you know about this stuff?”

“Well, around the time of ovulation, a woman's body produces more estrogen, which can increase libido—”

His breath hitched when his eyes fell on your hand resting over his pants.

“What?” you prompted, a playful glint in your eye. “Why did you stop?”

Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly as he met your gaze. "I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I was just going to mention that… increased estrogen levels during ovulation can also lead to heightened sensitivity in erogenous zones—”

But his words trailed off into a sigh as you palmed his arousal over his pants, feeling the hardness beneath your touch. He was undeniably aroused, and the way he responded to your touch only fueled you even more. With a mischievous grin, you ran your palm up and down his length, feeling him throb in response before letting out a playful giggle.

You didn’t realize it would be this fun to be the one doing the teasing.

“Tell me more, Spence.”

He swallowed hard before managing to speak. "W-Well,” he stammered. "Increased estrogen levels can also... enhance blood flow to certain areas, leading to heightened sensitivity and... uh, increased pleasure—”

But before he could finish his sentence, you applied a little more pressure, causing him to let out a low groan of pleasure. His words faltered, his focus shifting entirely to the delicious sensation of your hand stroking him. Your eyes traveled down, watching the way his cock pressed against the fabric of his pants, noting how thick and hard he was. 

But as your gaze lingered, you caught sight of the time on your watch, and reality came crashing back in. You reluctantly pulled your hand away from him, and Spencer blinked at your sudden withdrawal, his desire-clouded mind trying to focus on you.

“What's wrong?” He whispered. “Why did you stop?”

“I… I kind of got carried away, I’m sorry," you noted. "We should probably get back before they start to wonder where we are."

He went still, and so did you. The room’s air conditioner hummed softly, filling the silence as you both simply stared at each other. When he didn’t respond, you slowly backed away and moved toward the door, but his grip on your arm stopped you. You turned towards him, eyebrows raised while he seemed to hesitate to say the next words.

After a moment, he sighed, his gaze softening as he finally found the words he was looking for.

“The other day, after we… you know,” he emphasized, and you nodded, urging him to continue. “I had to deal with this myself.”

His eyes flicked over the bulge in his pants and you stifled a laugh, amused at his sudden fluster. “Yeah, you said you were going to ignore it.”

“I didn’t,” he replied. “I couldn’t.”

“And?”

“And…” he hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a moment before meeting yours again.

There was a moment of silence until you realized what he was implying. You gasped, the hand he wasn’t holding covering your mouth in shock. “Here?” you asked in disbelief. “At work?”

His cheeks flushed, but he nodded sheepishly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “In the bathroom.”

“Spencer,” you exclaimed in a hushed tone, “That’s...”

“I know, I know,” he cut in, his tone self-deprecating. “But in my defense, it was all your fault.”

You giggled. “Me? I barely touched you!”

"Exactly, but it was enough to drive me crazy,” he said, and when he saw you laughing, he gave you a deadpanned look. “It’s not funny.”

“Oh come on, it kind of is.” You shook your head in amusement. “Why are you telling me this?”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “Because I don’t want to leave this room and deal with it by myself again.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Is this your way of asking me to touch you?”

His eyes widened almost cartoonishly wide, the flush creeping up his cheeks contrasting against the paleness of his skin, making his reaction all the more apparent.

“Please?”

You couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at your lips. “Spencer, we only have…” You glanced over your watch. “Fifteen minutes left.”

“I can probably finish in five.”

You bit your bottom lip. How did you end up in this predicament all over again? Although this time, you felt like you had the upper hand, and somehow, it was strangely exciting to see him so affected, to have him practically begging for your touch when you were supposed to be in a hurry.

He looked at you expectantly. How could you say no when his eyes were wide and pleading? 

“You know what?” You turned to him fully, taking a step forward. “I think you deserve it. It’s your first day back, after all.”

Before you could second guess yourself, you reached for him again. His breath hitched slightly as you undid his belt and slowly lowered the zipper of his pants. His arousal strained against the fabric and you briefly met his gaze. Without a word, you slid your hand inside his pants, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

He felt full in your hand and painfully hard. When his response was nothing but his ragged breathing, you reached for the waistband of his briefs with your other hand, pulling down slightly until his cock was freed from its confines. 

“Spence, you’re so…” Your voice trailed off, eyes fixated on him. The tip was thick and bulbous, a deeper shade than the shaft where pulsing veins ran up the long length. You were mesmerized by his size; it wasn’t too big nor too small, just perfect.

“You’re so pretty.”

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he looked back at you. “You think so?”

You nodded, feeling the heat and the weight of him in your grasp. A droplet of wetness glistened on the tip, and unable to resist, your thumb brushed along it, earning a sharp intake of breath from him as his hips instinctively bucked against your touch. With a newfound confidence, you wrapped your hand around him, feeling his hardness pulsating against your palm. 

The skin was soft as you’d expected, warm to the touch, but his length was stiff and throbbing when you squeezed. If you stayed still, you were sure you could count his heartbeat. As your hand moved up and down tentatively, trying to take in every detail of his member, you couldn’t believe you were finally feeling each vein that bulged up his shaft.

“Do you mind if I spit on it?”

He let out a low groan, his head falling back against the wall. “No.”

“Really? Coming from someone who’s germaphobic?” You smiled amusedly. "I thought you'd be more concerned about hygiene."

"I'll make an exception for this."

You couldn't help but laugh at his response. Trusting your instincts, you craned your neck down and let the liquid spill from your mouth, coating his tip in a steady flow. Your saliva glistened in the light, slowly trickling down the length of his cock. Then you began to stroke him gently, you felt him respond eagerly, his breaths growing heavier and his hips rocking gently against your hand.

His head fell back against the wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “God, that feels…” 

Feeling a surge of pride at his reaction, you couldn’t resist teasing him further. “Is this how you touched yourself in the bathroom?”

He swallowed hard, his breath hitching as he met your gaze. 

“Were you thinking of me?” You pressed on. “Did you imagine me touching you like this?”

His response was barely a whisper, but you caught it. “Yes…”

His breath was warm against your face, and you looked up, taking in the way he was looking at you through half-lidded eyes, lips parted as soft moans slipped out of his mouth. Who would’ve thought he made the prettiest sounds? You knew he was trying to keep his voice down, but the sight of him struggling to suppress his pleasure only made it more thrilling.

“Or did you imagine me getting on my knees, taking you in my mouth?” you teased, your voice low and sultry as you traced your tongue along your bottom lip. “Did you picture yourself deep inside of me, how tight and wet I would be?”

His forehead dipped until it was resting against yours, breaking the self-control he was desperately trying to maintain. “Oh god—I-I can’t hold it any longer.”

Your response was simply to increase your speed, your fist moving in fast short strokes up his leaking cock. He was slick with arousal, and you focused your attention on the sensitive tip, prompting even louder sounds of pleasure from him.

“Wait—" he gripped your wrist, forcing you to stop. “I’m so close.”

You frowned, watching the conflict play out in his expression. "I thought you wanted this?"

“I know, it’s just—“ His brows furrowed, a hint of desperation in his eyes as he struggled to maintain control. Then, with a defeated sigh, he admitted, “I don’t want to make a mess.”

You scanned the room, your mind racing for a solution. The office offered no privacy, and there was nothing around to help clean up the mess he would definitely make, so you needed a different approach.

Without hesitation, you got down on your knees.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“You’re gonna—” he gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Shh,” you hushed, lightly hitting his thigh. “Just help me hold my hair up.”

He hesitated for a moment, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable. Slowly, he reached out, gathering your hair in his hands. You felt the warmth of his fingers against your scalp, his touch gentle yet firm. You leaned in, your mouth hovering just inches from his swollen tip as you glanced up, meeting his eyes one last time before you took him into your mouth.

The taste of him was intoxicating, and you could feel every twitch and throb as you wrapped your lips around him. His grip on your hair tightened, a guttural moan escaping his lips, your tongue swirling around his tip, tasting the salty bead of arousal that had formed there. His hips bucked involuntarily, and you took him deeper, jaw stretching wide as you struggled to get every inch of him inside your mouth while wrapping your hand around what was left.

You moved slowly at first, getting used to the feel of him in your mouth. It didn’t take long until your mouth was working in tandem with your hand, creating a rhythm that had his body shaking. The room was quickly filled with the sounds of his ragged breathing and soft moans, and you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. There you were, hiding behind an empty office with the potential of getting caught. 

But you didn’t care, nor did Spencer, as he held your hair and bucked his hips into your mouth. You could feel the tension building in him, his breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. He was so, so close, and you wanted to push him over the edge. You quickened your pace, your mouth moving up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks to create a tighter seal.

His moans grew louder, and you could tell he was struggling to keep quiet. “Please,” he whined, his voice strained. “I-I’m gonna…”

A choked gasp cut off his words as he reached his climax, his release hitting the back of your throat in hot, pulsing waves. You swallowed him down, savoring the taste of him, the warmth spreading through you as you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. His expression was one of pure ecstasy, mixed with a hint of disbelief and awe.

As he slowly came down from his high, his grip on your hair loosened, and he gently helped you to your feet. "That was..." he trailed off, still catching his breath. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. Besides, I think you deserved it,” you said before pointing a finger at him. “But we can’t keep doing this at work.”

He looked at you, amusement and disbelief dancing in his eyes as he adjusted his clothes. You could almost read his thoughts: you were the one who initiated this, not once, but twice. The first time might have been out of panic, but this time, it was all you.

“I’m serious,” you said, crossing your arms to emphasize your point. “Now that you’re back, we should keep a certain distance between us. No more sneaking around.”

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile curling at the corners of his mouth. But then you watched as his expression suddenly shifted, as if he remembered something and his smile turned into a frown followed by the furrow of his eyebrows.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He glanced at you, his hands sinking into the front pockets of his slacks. “I haven’t told this to anyone but… there’s a condition to my reinstatement.”

“What do you mean?” 

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “For every hundred days that I spend on the field, I’m required to take thirty days off.” 

You blinked, processing the information. “Wait, what? So you’re not fully back?”

“Technically I am, just not how I want it to be.”

You watched as his shoulders slightly fell. “You’re not happy about this, are you?”

“What am I supposed to do on my days off? A whole month of sitting around in my apartment doing nothing?”

You took a step closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “You’re not going to be sitting around doing nothing. Think of it as an opportunity. You can catch up on your reading, maybe even take a trip somewhere.”

He shook his head. “That’s not the same. I want to be out there, doing my job, helping people. It’s what I’m good at.”

“I know,” you said softly. “But you can’t give your best if you’re burnt out. These breaks could help you recharge, keep you sharp.”

He sighed, looking down at the floor. “I just feel like I’m being benched, like they don’t trust me fully.”

You tugged his arm, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Hey, they trust you. This is about keeping you safe. After everything you went through… Spence, you deserve this break. They just want to make sure you’re at your best every time you’re back in the field.”

When he didn’t seem to fully absorb your words, you pressed on.

“Think about it, you have so many options. You could pick up a new hobby, spend more time with your mom... or finally visit those places you’ve always talked about. Like that museum you mentioned before, what was it called again?”

His gaze softened as he listened to your suggestions. "The Smithsonian," he replied after a moment, a small smile playing on his lips. “I've always wanted to spend a whole day there without rushing.”

"Exactly! Now you'll have the time to do that."

He nodded slowly, the tension easing from his shoulders. "I guess you're right.”

“See? It’s all about perspective.”

His lips curved into a smile as you both fell into silence. Then, he studied you, his eyes scanning your features as if trying to decipher the thoughts swirling in your mind through the subtle shifts of your expression.

“Will you come with me?” 

Your heart skipped a beat, and your breath caught in your throat at the unexpected question.

“You want me to come with you to the museum?”

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice soft, almost quiet. "Will you?"

It was a simple question, but it held a weight that you couldn't ignore. You had spent plenty of time together, grabbing lunch, chatting at the coffee shop down the road. But this felt… different. More personal. More intimate.

And suddenly it came crashing to you. You were so absorbed in what was happening between you, the stolen kisses, the physical attraction, that you didn’t realize your friendship was never going to be the same again.

On one hand, the idea of spending more time alone with him was undeniably tempting, but the rational part of you wasn’t sure if it was the wisest thing to do. He was your friend, a good one at that, and getting emotionally involved with friends could either strengthen or strain the relationship.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you searched for the right words. But before you could answer him, both of your phones vibrated with a notification. You both looked at your own devices and read the message.

“We’re leaving now,” Spencer announced, shoving back his phone in his pocket. “We should go.”

You nodded slowly, your gaze lingering on the door for a moment longer before you turned towards him. “You know what? You should head out first. I need some time to myself.”

He furrowed his brows slightly. You could tell he wanted to ask more questions, but he didn’t press on. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you replied. “Just give me a minute and I’ll follow behind.”

His eyes lingered on you for another second before he nodded, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “Sure, I’ll save a seat for you.”

You returned his smile, though it felt more like a grimace as you watched him exit the room. The click of the door closing behind him seemed to echo in the sudden silence, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts as the rush of emotions flooded over you. It felt as if you were standing at the edge of a precipice, unsure whether to leap or retreat.

With a deep breath, you pressed a hand to your chest, trying to calm the fluttering inside. But the truth was undeniable—you were falling for him, and you were falling fast.

[greengoblinswifey]

Shattered— Nicholas Chavez x Actress!Reader

summary— you’re an actress on the brink of fame and you fall for your co-star Nicholas Chavez. discovering his secret coupled with your unexpected pregnancy changes your entire dynamic.

warnings— cheating, mentions of infertility, mature language, grief and loss, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of unprotected sex, abortion, manipulation.

a/n— kinda long but i’m a slut for angst, also this is all just my imagination and fantasy, it’s not based on nicholas irl <3

Alternative Ending

From the very first time you got an acting role, your manager told you, never engage in relations with your co stars. Looking down at the two positive pregnancy tests on the counter, you wished you had taken heed to her wise words.

You and Nicholas had been thrown into the spotlight together, both relatively new to the fame game. As co-stars, you’d developed a chemistry that felt electric, especially during your lovey-dovey scenes on camera.

As the filming progressed, those on-screen moments started to seep into your off-screen life. You’d find yourselves stealing kisses between takes, getting lost in long conversations about everything from your childhood dreams to your favorite late-night snacks. It was easy to forget that this was just work. You felt like you knew each other inside out.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you were in your trailer, and the laughter just flowed. “I really like this,” Nicholas said, leaning closer, his eyes locked onto yours. “It feels special, you know?”

You nodded, heart racing. “Yeah, it does. I’m just scared of what happens after this season wraps. Will we still have this?”

Nick brushed a thumb across your cheek, his gaze intense. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise I’ll always be here.”

You couldn’t help it; you leaned in and kissed him, the connection between you two crackling like electricity. Everything felt perfect in that moment, but in the back of your mind, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

What were you missing? Why did he keep his life back home so close to his chest?

As your days turned into nights filled with mind blowing sex, you tried to enjoy every second, but the nagging doubt wouldn’t disappear. You were falling for him, and you wondered if he felt the same way, or if this was just a fun distraction for him.

As filming continued, he made sure to keep the relationship casual, reassuring you that it was all good between you two. “You know I care about you, right?” he’d say between takes, pulling you close, his lips pressing against your forehead, “But a public relationship? It might restrict me from getting certain roles.” You nodded, wanting to be supportive. After all, you understood the pressure of the industry. But deep down, a nagging thought lingered, was there more to it than that?

Still, you brushed off your doubts. You were wrapped up in the excitement of your new life, enjoying every moment of intimacy with Nicholas, nights spent tangled in sheets, whispering sweet nothings, and experiencing a side of Hollywood that felt like a dream. There were moments when he’d use condoms, and others when he’d pull out, but you never worried about getting pregnant. You knew you were infertile, and that fact brought you a strange sense of comfort.

During one of your casual conversations, you mentioned your part-time passion for photography. Nick lit up at the idea, and you quickly arranged for him to meet a photographer friend of yours who worked for magazines. “I’ll be sure to use them,” he said, his tone light. You didn’t think much of it, just a favor for a friend.

Then came the twist, Nick’s character was off the show for a few episodes. He returned to his hometown, and suddenly, the set felt empty without him. You missed him deeply, especially because you’d been feeling under the weather lately. The sickness hung over you, but you knew he needed a break so you didn’t bother him in staying.

As the days went by, his texts became infrequent. You found yourself wondering if something was wrong. Maybe he was just busy? Maybe he was having fun back home? And then, you noticed your period was late. You weren’t scared per se, you remembered the infertility diagnosis, but something felt off.

In a moment of playful distraction, you called your sister. “I’m late,” you joked, half-laughing. “Maybe I should take a pregnancy test?” She encouraged you, laughter spilling over the phone, making it feel lighthearted.

You picked up two tests from the store, ensuring they weren’t expired. When you took the tests, you expected nothing. But to your shock, both tests came back positive.

The laughter faded, replaced by disbelief. You dropped the phone, feeling a wave of panic crash over you. Pregnant? How could this happen? You were still so new in your career, and Nicholas. How would you even tell him? Would he be happy? He had dreams to chase, and now there was a little life to consider.

Your mind raced with possibilities and worries. You knew you needed to talk to Nicholas but the fear of how he’d react was large. You’d built something beautiful, but this was a twist neither of you had planned.

The days dragged on as you tried to process everything. You took a few days to cool off, completely unsure how to proceed. The set was chaotic, your mind was racing while you were trying to act normal. Multiple takes of one scene felt like torture, especially when you had to run off to throw up in between. The directors were patient, but you could sense their frustration growing. You felt guilty, this pregnancy wasn’t their fault, and yet you were struggling to keep it together.

Just two days before Nicholas was set to return, the chaos hit a new level. You received a message from the photographer you had linked Nicholas with. “Check out how cute your co-star looks with his girlfriend!” it read, accompanied by a series of images. You froze as you opened the photos. There he was, Nicholas, beaming in a pregnancy announcement photoshoot with a woman. A woman who was his girlfriend.

Shock coursed through you as confusion and anger collided. Your heart sank, it felt like a punch to the gut. You hadn’t taken any photos with Nicholas, and now you realized why he had been so secretive about his life outside of filming. He was expecting a baby with her. You wanted to scream, shout, break things, or blow up his phone. But instead, you just sat there, staring blankly at the screen, tears streaming down your face.

You ran to the trailer bathroom, clutching your stomach as nausea washed over you. You felt it to your core, the reality of your situation was devastating. He had been playing you both, living a lie, and now here you were, grappling with the knowledge that your pregnancy was based on deception.

Days passed like a blur. You did your best to get through filming, but every time you returned to your trailer, the reality of the life growing inside you became unbearable. You would throw up and clutch your stomach, feeling the weight of what was supposed to be a beautiful moment turned sour by lies.

Finally, the day arrived when Nicholas returned to set. He burst into your trailer, the energy in the room instantly shifting. “I missed you!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around you and planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. But you just sat there, staring blankly at him, the pregnancy tests in hand, proof of the life you were now burdened with.

He pulled back, looking at you with concern. “What’s wrong?”

The words caught in your throat. You were ready to confront him, ready to expose the web of lies. But all you could manage was a shaky breath, your heart racing in your chest as you prepared for the storm ahead.

With shaky hands, you thrust the pregnancy tests into Nicholas’s face, your heart pounding. “Here.”

He looked at the tests, confusion swirling in his eyes. “W-what? What the fuck is this. Is this… are you pregnant?” The realization hit him hard, and you could see the panic creeping in.

“Yeah, I am!” you shot back, your voice rising.

“Fucking hell!” he shouted, “my- my fucking career is just taking off, I’m filming a show, this- this wasn’t supposed to get this far.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” You couldn’t believe the things he was saying. “My career is just taking off, I’m filming a show too Nicholas.”

His expression shifted, the initial panic giving way to something more defensive. “I can’t handle this right now! My career is just starting, and I didn’t want to be tied down like this.”

Anger bubbled up inside you, boiling over like a volcano. You could sense the manipulation in his tone, the way he was shifting the blame onto you. “It’s always about you, isn’t it?” you yelled, pushing him away. “You’re just thinking about yourself!”

He reached for you, attempting to pull you back into his embrace, whispering, “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out.” But you shoved him off, your emotions raw and unfiltered.

“Figure this out?” you screamed, your voice echoing in the small trailer. “How can you say that when you’re two-timing? Look at these!” You threw your phone at him, the pregnancy announcement photos landing in his lap. His face twisted with fury.

“Are you serious right now?” he shouted, his anger igniting. “I made a mistake with one of them! It wasn’t supposed to go this far! We’re filming a show together; I can’t just drop everything!”

You stared at him in disbelief. “You’re not the Nicholas I thought I knew. How can you act like this? You’re a fucking two-faced liar, sleeping with two girls and getting both of us pregnant!”

He raked a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of frustration and despair. “I can’t do this. Not now. You need to- you need to get an abortion.”

The words hung heavy in the air, crashing down around you. You looked at him, heart sinking, disbelief coursing through you. “Are you serious? You want me to end this?”

Nicholas looked away, the weight of his own choices crashing down on him. But it was too late, the damage had been done.

Nicholas’s voice was cold and detached. “Yes, I want you to get an abortion. I’ll give you money for it. You need to have it gone by tonight.”

You felt your heart shatter all over again. “How can you refer to our baby as ‘it’?” The bitterness in your voice was undeniable.

He shrugged, pacing the small trailer. “I don’t know what an abortion can do to your body, but you’ll need time to rest. What are you going to tell production?”

You shook your head in disbelief. “I don’t know either! But how can you be so heartless?”

“Listen I can’t deal with this, I have a girlfriend and a baby on the way,” he muttered, lowly.

You couldn't take it anymore. “No! I am your girlfriend! WE have a baby on the way, or at least I thought I was your girlfriend!”

Nicholas stopped pacing, his expression a mixture of guilt and confusion. He ran a hand over his face, clearly overwhelmed.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to be,” he muttered, unsure of what to say next.

Then, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him, he turned and left the trailer without another word, leaving you alone in the silence.

You hugged yourself tightly, tears streaming down your cheeks. The reality of your situation crashed down on you. You felt utterly lost, your heart aching for the life you once envisioned, now shattered.

That night, you lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, your mind spiraling as you weighed your options. If you kept the baby, everything would change. Your career, just beginning to gain traction, would be stalled indefinitely. You’d be a single mother, left alone to care for a child Nicholas had already written off. And as a man, he’d be fine. Even with two babies on the way, he wouldn’t be the one carrying or caring for them.

On the other hand, if you didn’t keep it, you weren’t even sure if you’d get another chance. The thought tore at you, but you knew what the world would say. They’d call you a homewrecker, maybe even try to destroy your reputation, and all without knowing the truth. It would be you, bearing the weight of his lies.

Finally, with a heavy heart, you booked the appointment for the next morning. You went alone, tears streaming down your face as you went through it, feeling each moment echo in the hollow of your chest. By the time filming started later that day, you were late, your spirit shattered.

Nicholas spotted you as soon as you walked onto set. He approached, his voice low, but his eyes sharp. “Is it done?”

You nodded, feeling a hollow ache that reached all the way down to your bones. You could barely look at him, but when you did, all you felt was disgust. He added, as if it was some minor detail, “Don’t even think of reaching out to my girlfriend.” You couldn’t believe how cold he’d become, as if you were nothing more than a piece of his past.

Then the call for your scene echoed across the set, and you took your place opposite him. It was a romantic moment, a kiss, meant to be tender and full of passion. But when his lips touched yours, it felt like everything was wrong. The kiss was forced, awkward, each movement filled with a desperation neither of you could hide.

When the director called, “Cut,” you pulled away and fled, barely making it to your trailer before the tears began to flow. Just hours ago, you were carrying his child. Now, all that remained was an empty ache and a broken heart. In some twisted way, you felt almost relieved that you no longer had a part of him inside you. And yet, the loss left you feeling like a shell of who you once were.

A few days after the procedure, you felt like you had nothing left of him. Nothing to show for the life you’d once carried, the part of him that had been yours alone. He had been such a huge part of your life just days before, and in mere hours, that illusion had shattered completely.

The filming continued, and soon the news of his pregnancy announcement with his girlfriend went public. You watched as the set was buzzing with congratulatory wishes for him. Everyone beamed at Nicholas, showering him with smiles and words of celebration. Meanwhile, you did your best to hold yourself together, concealing the sadness that now rested in the hollow of your heart.

When the season finally wrapped, the months that followed became a time of rebuilding. You put everything into healing, into rediscovering yourself. By the premiere night, you were the picture of poise and confidence, draped in a red dress that turned heads. When you stepped onto the red carpet, even Nicholas did a double take, momentarily caught off guard by your transformation.

After the red carpet, he approached, offering a hollow smile. “So, how are you feeling? I just need to know, it’s really done, right?” He hesitated, glancing around, and added, “I heard sometimes fetuses survive abortion…”

The audacity of his words made you sick. Anger sparked in you, and you hissed, barely holding back your rage. “Yes, Nicholas. Our baby is dead. Thanks to you.” You were barely a few weeks along so you wouldn’t have considered it a baby but you wanted to say anything to knock him down.

As the night continued, you managed to keep your composure, even when his pregnant girlfriend approached you with a sweet smile, chatting as if you hadn’t unknowingly been fucking her boyfriend raw. All the while, Nicholas hovered nearby, his eyes sharp, ensuring you didn’t let anything slip. You walked away feeling relief. He’d no longer have a hold on you.

The following months brought a fresh start. You threw yourself into work, your career skyrocketing as you landed a massive film role. Meanwhile, Nicholas seemed to fade from the spotlight, mostly at home with his girlfriend, waiting for their baby. Until, finally, karma came for him, an article revealed that the child he thought was his was actually someone else’s, belonging to a rockstar his girlfriend had left him for.

You couldn’t help the satisfaction that spread through you. He’d reaped exactly what he’d sown, and you hadn’t lifted a finger.

The Oscar nomination was the pinnacle of your success, and the night of the awards ceremony arrived. To your surprise, Nicholas showed up, desperate to find you. He cornered you at last, offering a string of apologies and congratulations, asking for another chance now that he was alone. But you saw through him, his desire was only to latch onto your newfound fame. You looked him in the eyes, remembering everything he’d put you through. He had destroyed you, once. But you had risen again, and he was nothing to you now.

Without a word, you turned and walked away, leaving him to watch as you went forward, leaving him in the past for good.

[bonus-links]

Hello! Could we have a director’s commentary on Ruins pt.11 please?? It drives me insane 🥺🥺

YEAHHH this is gonna be a long one. link to the update

this is also one of my favorite updates (and 100% my favorite dialogue in all of ch.1, possibly the whole comic so far) but I'm glad I waited to do a commentary bc I think this is actually really relevant to the latest update

cause like the conversation Loft has with botw Zelda here is very similar to the one he has with Ganondorf, though he's much less snippy during it

I wanted to give Zelda a chance to be bitter and share her grievances with the gods. Her entire story in BOTW is largely about how the legends and the expectations put upon her by them fail not only her personally but the entire kingdom. And yet she's made to feel like it's all her fault.

A lot of his comic focuses on the legacy of the Hero, but I don't want to leave Zelda (or Ganondorf) out of the conversation. The cycle makes victims of all three of them in various ways, and while I can't do everything at once, it's still my goal to explore that. The Zeldas in particular are all in interesting positions as members of the Royal Family, because they're at once always thrown in peril by it with little agency, and expected to be the facilitators of its success as the people with the closest proximity to the gods. Much to think about.

on that note BOTW Zelda is my favorite Zelda. she is my babygirl. she is my everything. I will die a BOTW Zelda defender. we haven't seen the last of her in this comic i promise :-)

okay on to actually analyzing the comic. This top panel is framed like a diptych, two paintings hinged together. these are often (though not always) associated with religious paintings and are often altarpieces. I use a triptych format in the newest update :D sidenote I think it's very cute that some of the Hylia statues in BOTW have been decorated, so i gave her a little flower crown

I imagine praying starts to feel a little strange when you are dating ur god. yeah. Also I think it's interesting that Skyloft seems to mainly worship Hylia, with the other gods being more distant. It makes sense given the whole "she personally raised us up into the sky to save us all" thing. Even though Loft is the very first hero sent on a personal religious quest directly by his goddess, I've always imagined him as kind of,,,,casually devout? In that way that it's all you've ever known. Like obviously his beliefs are deeply ingrained, but he's not as into the formality of it all as other Links we might meet later.

I think about Zelda in that freezing pool on Mt. Lanayru all the time. RAHHHHHHH

I've posted this before but close up of Slate running their errands, the errand being talking to the Great Fairies about if they've noticed anything weird going on lol. I actually wanted to make it a whole update on its own, but I cut it for time and also because. I don't think the Great Fairies really have any information that was necessary other than "no I don't know what's going on". So u get this panel.

I like this shot of that little statue towering over the both of them, and I mimic it a little bit in the new update here. something something about why we build monuments and what they stand for.

negative sim interaction

Loft still has to believe that Zelda and Slate's negative experiences had to have been some sort of misunderstanding. If Hylia could have helped, she would have. Knowing and loving your goddess on a human level also makes you want to give her the benefit of the doubt.

I actually really love that in BOTW Zelda resents Link for having some sort of access to the divine that she just can't reach. She has her arc about it in the game, but especially now she's come to understand that having the gods' favor is a double-edged sword. Also, that's not really meant to be Peony, but I like the idea that Champion also had an affinity for fairies. :-( Intentionally the same pose as Slate at the fairy fountain, though Slate is so tiny I probably didn't need to bother lol

that was a lot of rambling lol but i have. so many thoughts abt the subject matter of this update. this is the shit about LOZ that makes me froth at the mouth tbh

[iidesxreii]

Anatomy - S. Reid

∘₊☽ Song: https://music.apple.com/us/album/anatomy-single/1695033802 ☽₊∘

╔ Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

☆ Word Count: 5.3k

☆ Category: Angst/Fluff (Opposites attract, what can I say?)

☆ Summary: You never talk about your father with anyone. And when you finally do allow yourself to think of all the reasons you come to a certain realization. One that took you years to admit. //My take on the song Anatomy by Kenzie.//

☆ Content: HURT/COMFORT, angst, flashbacks, dad problems GALORE

╚ A/N: Omg this is my first fic and it's been sitting in my drafts for like months. I was skeptical about posting this but I guess no better time than now you know? I have a couple more in the drafts and if this does any type of good, I'll release more! Bold are lyrics, italics are memories <3

Also!! This is LONG. I didn't realize how long until I scrolled through and my GOSH. Please grab snacks and tissues because this shit gets deep. PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU HATE IT I WONT BE MAD I SWEAR.

If you squint I slipped in some very slight father figure Hotch bc that’s my crack

═══════ ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ｡･ ═══════

You called me today, on a random Tuesday

Don't ask me why I still have your number saved

You roll your eyes and double click your lock button to send the phone call to voicemail. You try to continue talking with the team, but within seconds your phone is ringing again. You sigh and pull your phone out fully but before you could send them to voicemail again, Hotch’s voice broke through to you. 

“Agent (Y/L/N). I don’t know who’s calling you, but please go answer. This is the 3rd time.” Hotch’s usual monotonous voice cuts through the conversation everyone else was having, the minute he does it goes quiet in the conference room. You breathe in deeply before licking your lips looking for a reply.

“Actually it’s the 18th time since you clocked in this morning. 3rd since we’ve landed.” Your all knowing, fast talking and ever so loving boyfriend chirps from the corkboard. Your eyes dart to him and you see that he hasn’t even turned an inch to look at you. Still focusing on the ins and outs of the case your team was supposed to be working on. You sigh before clearing your throat.

“Since you know SO much Reid, who is it?” You ask as you stand from your seat at the table. Morgan has a smile on his face as he watches you two fight like a married couple. Your hands land on your hips and Reid finally turns around. He has a file in his hands and the entire time he speaks he’s reading into it.

“Your father. I saw his name come up 4 times before we went to the round table room for debriefing.” He places the white board marker down before flipping a page in the file and continuing to read. You squint at him and make a face. Your boyfriend had terrible social cues, especially while on the job. He wasn’t the easiest to speak to sometimes, which is why you never let it bother you. Until now. Talking about your father brought the worst out in you. “If you’re going to ignore someone’s calls you could try blocking them or turning-” 

“Reid.” Hotch’s stern voice comes barreling through his train of thought and he finally looks up. When he sees your face his softens immediately. He didn’t know why you never spoke about your dad or why you never answered his calls. He also didn’t know why you never went home during your vacations or never spoke about your home life. But seeing you look so defeated after his last few words to you, he’s wanted to know more than ever. You roll your eyes and pull your phone out. You click your fathers name and the phone immediately redials and sends out the call. You show your colleagues and some of them jokingly laugh as you head out of the door. The phone rings 4 times before it picks up. And then you hear your father.

Hello, stranger, it's been forever

You're acting normal, but nothing's normal about

“Hey stranger! Seems like I can never get you on the phone nowadays!” Your dad’s voice cuts through the quiet silence after a beat of sitting on the phone. You clear your throat as you entire an office that was empty. It wasn't too far from your team so you could still keep an eye on them and gauge what they were talking about.

“Hi dad.” you mumbled into the phone. Your tone of voice did nothing to throw your father off his reason for calling you. You can hear the smile on his face when he continues talking.

“Are you busy? Do you have some time for catching up?” He asks so innocently but you fear that. Your dad never calls for just anything, there’s always something behind the call. Something you chose to stay away from.

“Ah…no.” You think about it for a second before answering. You should have said you were busy, or you shouldn't have called back and instead blocked his number but the thing about your father was you loved him. You always had, always will. He was your weak spot. No matter how many times he had proven he didn’t deserve second, third or fourth chances you gave him them all.

“My little FBI agent is finally quiet. You know you were never really a quiet kid-” he continued talking and you continued listening. Another notion towards you giving your father time that he doesnt deserve. You watch as your team continues shuffling around in the room, talking and marking up a board you can only see half of. 5 minutes later you see the door to their room open and you turn away. Within seconds you find your door opening and Morgan peeking his head in.

“Profile is ready. Good to go?” he asks. You turn to him and give him a thumbs up before returning to your call. The door closes and you take a peek at it before clearing your throat.

“Hey dad, I’ve got to go but���I’ve got some vacation time saved up. How about I come visit and we can go out for dinner.” you turn to look and find your team making their way out of the room and towards the open vast police station. A sure sign that they were about to give the profile without you.

“That’s a wonderful idea, munchkin. Let me know when. Stay safe.” you nod into the phone and immediately hang up. There was nothing more to say after that. You slide your phone on mute before sticking it in your pocket and opening the office door. Before you can head towards the team you feel a hand on your arm. You turn to find Spencer standing, waiting on you.

“Angel-” He doesn’t get any further before you smile and pull your arm gently from him. You didn’t want to talk, no matter how sad you looked or felt. Talking about your dad was never a good thing.

“Not right now, Spence. Profile time.” you deflect like you always have. Never talking about your father was normal to you. Nothing good had or could ever come from talking about your father.

Trust issues and soaking tissues

Your relationship with your father had turned sour about a year after him and your mom divorced. He stopped visiting, stopped calling, stopped sending money for you and your sister. Like he had just given up. And then one day he started calling back and his reasoning was because work had exhausted him and strained him beyond what he was used to but he was back and wasgoing to be there for you guys. If only 7 year old you had known the lie.

“I’m going to come and pick you guys up and we’ll hangout for the weekend. I told your mom I’d be there at 5. I love you guys, Munchkin.” his voice came through the phone one wednesday. Your sister, Ameilia, squealed and jumped on her bed before flopping down and grabbing her pillow to scream into.

“We love you too dad! We can’t wait!” You quickly hung up the phone and turned to your older sister who stopped in her tracks and immediately started digging through your shared closet for clothes to wear. You followed suit with the brightest smile on your face. Unknowingly to you and Ameilia, your mother was standing at your door with a worried look on her face.

Lyin' to my sister and sayin' I don't miss you

The false hope calls kept coming well into your teen years. The constant ‘I’ll pick you up’ and ‘I’m sorry I just got caught up in work’ conversations weren’t making it better. Each time he fell through he had a better lie than last time. Ones that made sense in your little brain. You didn’t finally grasp that he wasn’t ever coming until your 16th birthday. Your mom had saved up as much money as she could to pay for an extravagant party for you and you invited your dad. Of course he agreed and said he’d be in attendance that night which got you excited. But as the night droned on, and the end of your party came to a close you found that everything he had ever said in the last 9 years had been a lie. You knew you’d get a call sometime next weekend about how busy he had gotten, but you figured you’d let it ring. Maybe Amelia would answer.

“You okay?” Ameilia asks you a few days later. You’re working on something to keep yourself busy when you look up to her. She’s sitting on her bed playing with a small toy your dad had given her years ago. 

“I’m fine…” came your quiet voice. She looked up at you and scoffed before throwing the toy into the box labeled goodwill. She was cleaning her side of your guys room before college, and it seemed she was trying to get away from your dad. Something you knew you’d need to do yourself, but haven’t done just yet.

“Do you miss him?” came her soft voice. You turned to her once more before swallowing. You shuffled a bit on your bed before coming to the edge and sitting down. You opened your mouth to say something but nothing came out. Do you lie? Tell the truth? “It’s okay if you do. I did too for a while.” you look up at this. Another toy gets tossed into the box and she looks back at you. 

“Do you still?” comes your quiet question. Your 16th birthday was the one time you expected your father to come through. But you couldn’t help but feel sad that he didn’t. You could deal with any other lie, but a lie about missing this big of a milestone in your life? inexcusible.

“Do me a favor.” You look up to find her standing from her bed. She has her hands on her hips, which is how you know she means what she’s about to say. “When I leave for school, if he keeps calling…don’t pick up. If the ringing bothers you pick it up and slam it back down. But don’t speak to him ever again. He’s not worth your tears (Y/N/N).”

With no closure, just getting older

Now almost 8 years after that conversation you still find it in you to have his number saved. You try not to answer the phone but his persistence quietly eats at the back of your brain making you answer the phone, though you’d never admit that to your sister. You’d never hear the end of it from her. She’d eat at you about the closure you both never got. Which would make you not want to disappoint her but you can’t make them both happy. So for now, you pretend you haven’t answered his calls in years. But you know and it eats at you. The pain you experienced from not really having your dad in your life made growing up harder than it should. Nobody to chase the boys away, nobody to cry to when you felt your mom was being unfair, nobody to bring you to the ‘daddy daughter’ dances. A figment of your imagination, a silhouette of a man you once knew. Nobody to introduce Spence to, have dinners with, walk you down the aisle when that time comes. Just emptiness. 

And the older you got the easier it got to ignore the calls. When you managed to get a job at the BAU every excuse after was about how busy you were. New case, no time on your hands, working overtime, no vacation time, ect. Nothing you ever came up with for an excuse was ever about something normal. It was always about your job. Which put you in a temporary peace of mind. Your phone stopped ringing all the time and only rang sometimes. Your call log stopped being filled with ‘dad’ and in turn at the top of your messages was always a new excuse on why you didn’t answer. And for a while the lies became easier, something you no longer thought about but instead typed out and sent before going back to sitting on your couch. Which had turned you into him, and made you feel guilty so you went back to answering.

But you still see me as a kid on your shoulders

“Can’t wait to see you again! We can go to the park and eat ice cream after!” is the first text you see when you come out of the house you and your team had just barged into. You don’t respond to the text, you instead clear your throat and lock your phone before looking around and checking which car you’d be riding back to the station in.

It's just anatomy, you're only half of me

“Why do you even care about dad? It’s not like he cared about us.” Your sister had asked during one thanksgiving where she was home from school. You shrugged before continuing to wipe off your makeup. Yet another festivity you had invited him to that he had missed.

“He did. At some point…” you whispered into the air. You watched Ameilia roll her eyes and scratch her nose before she threw her hands up and turned away from you. 

“Right. Blood doesn’t make you family you know. He’s only half of our DNA anyway.” She grabs her phone off her bed and heads out of your old shared room and towards the bathroom with a tune humming behind her. You wished you could feel like her. Thriving even without dad. Living.

Still, you don't know me at all

“Maybe we just do the ice cream. The park isn’t for me anymore.” is the only thing you text back. Before you can lock your phone a message comes in and you read it.

“Sorry Munchie. I forget you’re not so small anymore.” Munchie. He hadn’t called you that since before the divorce. It plays in your head over and over again before you will yourself to type something back.

“I am unfortunately 23 now, dad.” You lock your phone immediately before you can accidentally read another text. You go to slip your phone into your pocket and feel it vibrate almost immediately. You shrug it off and pay attention to what Hotch is telling you from the driver’s seat. Right now this is more important. Catching your killer is more important. But Munchie plays in your head anyway.

You've been my missing piece, so why aren't you missing me?

Guess I meant less than I thought

“You still don’t miss him?” you question your sister as she’s getting ready for bed. She turns to you and her smile drops immediately. 2 years ago she had asked if you missed him, and now you're asking her if she misses him. You know the answer though.

“Does he miss us?” You can hear the aggravation in her voice as she answers you. She pulls her blankets back on her old bed and plugs her phone onto the charger.

“Of course he does.” comes your reply. She turns and places her hands on her hips, a notion that she was getting serious.

“Text him. Text him that you miss him and tell me what he says." She motions towards your phone before walking out of your room. An hour later she come back in from her shower and heads to her own bed. She sits down and reaches for the lamp that was on. “Anything?”

“No…” comes your solemn reply. You had been staring at the phone since you sent it. Eyes bloodshot and bleary.

“Open your fucking eyes, (Y/N).” and then the light is gone. And all you are left with is a broken heart, a fading phone screen, and tears streaming down your face.

It's just anatomy

Hate that you're half of me

“Dinner guys?” Hotch voices as you all leave the station with one more bad guy caught. You look over your team who is all fondly talking to one another.

“Absolutely. All on you Hotch?” Morgan jokes while clapping Hotch on the shoulder. Hotch spares him a side eye before letting out a small chuckle. 

“Absolutely not.” He pats Morgan’s chest before turning to you and Reid. The entire team turns and you find everyone staring at you. Spencer included. 

“(Y/N)?” JJ has her bottom lip between her teeth and she’s holding back a smile. You chalk up wallowing in self pity to a later time and smile.

“Family dinner it is.” Spencer smiles at you before throwing an arm over your shoulder and walking with you to the car.

Hate when people say that our noses are the same

So I went and got a change, like three-quarters of L.A

Three weeks later you’re walking in from lunch with Spencer when you see the rest of your team crowding around Penelope. She has an ipad in her hands and she’s pointing at something on it when you both approach. You find a picture of JJ’s family on it and they’re pointing out the similarities in JJ now. You shake your head and head to your desk when you hear your name.

“Wow (Y/L/N). You look just like your dad.” Emily’s voice cuts through the team’s jabbering and you freeze. You hated hearing that. You looked like him and now you don’t reach out like him. Every call is from him and not from you.

“What?” You ask, turning around slowly. Emily points at the Ipad in Penelope’s hand and Penelope turns it to you. You find a picture of you, Amelia, your mom and your dad all dressed in your sunday best for easter photos. You had to be no older than 6. Sometime right before the divorce.

“It’s like copy and paste.” JJ smiles at you and you try to fake one back. Except it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Jj, Penelope and Emily all notice and like a switch the Ipad is turned around and they all shut up.

“Except her nose is a bit smaller now. It was larger when she was a kid.” Morgan continues. He has a smile on his face and he shows no limit of stopping. Emily turns to him and you see her make a gesture that he completely ignores. JJ taps at his biceps and he shakes it off. Reid goes to open his mouth and stop him but the damage is done. “You get a nose job (Y/L/N)?” everyone's eyes go wide and you blink a few times. Before he can rush out an apology you’re cleaning your desk and grabbing your things. You needed an out. You wanted no one to know about your father or your nose job, but now your whole team knew.

And I've dated shitty people 'cause of how you treated mom

Now I'm with somebody good, but I'm still feeling numb 'cause of

The next day you come in and the subject is on shitty exes. JJ, Emily and Penelope are discussing the ins and outs of how shitty their love life has been or is going. Except obviously JJ. She’s got Will and a newborn. Who wouldn’t love to be in JJ’s shoes. You reach your desk and keep quiet. You’d usually add in your two cents by now but with what had happened yesterday and your abrupt shift end you don’t add your input due to the shitty list of men you had from the ripe age of 14 to 20. Instead you listen to theirs. And it wasn’t like you were expecting an apology. You weren’t. You were just taking your time in getting over the fact that you’d never be able to skip the accusations of looking exactly like your father. A spitting image of him. Like a mirror.

“How is it to be with Reid? Is he how I think he is?” Emily speaks to you first. You turn to her with a relaxed smile and lean back in your chair. You cross your legs over the other and cock your head.

“How do you think he is?” you question her. She looks at JJ and Pen before clearing her throat and giving you an awkward smile.

“The same here, but more relaxed. And always talking your ear off.” JJ holds back a laugh by licking her bottom lip and Pen just smacks Emily’s arm softly.

“He’s actually quieter. And cuddlier than in public, but that’s because he doesn’t like PDA.” You shrug like this is  normal conversation. And of course it is because it’s you talking to your girl friends about your boyfriend, but it isn’t because these are your teammates and your boyfriend is one of them.

“Hey about yesterday-” Emily starts but you wave her off. You make a funny face before stretching.

“No apologies needed. It’s fine.” and then you turn back towards your desk and you continue working on the file at hand. You play it off well but you refuse to let them know that their words have been on constant repeat in your head since you heard them. 

Trust issues, I'm soaking tissues

Lyin' to my sister like I never miss you

Ameilia calls you and catches you off guard the weekend after it happens. She starts the call off by saying something about her wedding which gives you a moment to collect yourself from the multiple crying sessions you’ve had. But you slip and let out a sniffle and she hears it. She stops all conversation and listens for a minute. You try to play it off and speak to her but your voice gives it away.

“What’s wrong?” she asks into the phone. You sniffle again before clearing your throat. You give yourself some time before answering and sigh.

“Nothing Ames. Continue talking about your wedding.” You plaster a fake smile on your face even though she can’t see you. You wipe at your bloodshot eyes and throw yet another tissue into the pile on the table.

“Is it dad?” she asks. You open your mouth to disagree and stop yourself. Then you continue with your lie. You’re just as bad as him, half of him. A liar.

“What? No. I don’t talk to him-” you start to go on a tangent and you hear your sister’s voice break your train of thought. 

“I know you’re still talking to him. I spoke to mom.” Is the only thing she says to you. You sigh into the phone and shake our head. Leave it to your mother to break your 8 year lie apart

“I-” you start but you hear your sister on the other line. She sighs and sniffles before quickly covering it up with clearing her throat.

“I wish I loved him the same way you do. I really do.” And without missing another beat she goes back to talking about her wedding. Anything to not talk about dad.

Say you'll visit, empty promise

God, I wish that for once you'd be honest

A couple of weeks go past and you’re back in your hometown with Spencer. He hadn’t managed to get vacation time with you, but he had a couple of days saved up and decided to use 2 of them for dinner with your dad. Something you had asked him for and he immediately dropped everything to be in attendance. He knew the history with your father. And how much you tried to refuse talking to him. He thought that if you could face this, he’d be able to ask your father if he could marry you. Because that was all he was waiting for, a chance to ask properly.

So you found a hotel and a great place for dinner. Texted your dad and told him where and when to meet you. You got dressed in the hotel room, called a cab to ride in for the dinner and walked in with your head high when you said you had a reservation for 3. You sat at the table shuffling with anxiety and Spencer watched hoping that this wouldn’t be like all the other times. The times that had you sniffling and crying for days on end. The times you spent in your apartment and not his because you didn’t want him seeing you that way. But as time went on, one hour went to two and then three and your drinks went from just one to six. He saw the look on your face. One of defeat and embarrassment. And you chalked it up to another defeat when you called your waiter over and had them close out your six cup wine tab and Spencer’s one glass of water. You signed the $300 dollar tab and left two crisp hundred dollar bills for wasting your waiter’s time and stood. Spencer followed and you both made your way to the hotel.

It's just anatomy, you're only half of me

Still, you don't know me at all

“I’m sorry. I got caught up in some work and fell asleep at the office. Dinner on me next week instead? You’ll still be in town then right?” You read the text and throw your phone on the bed and turn to Spencer who is looking at you with his hands in his pocket. He doesn’t say anything, just pulls his hands from his pockets and opens his arms for you to fall into. And you do. You sigh and fall into his arms and waste no time crying your eyes out.

You've been my missing piece, so why aren't you missing me?

Guess I meant less than I thought

You now understood why Ameilia never sent your father a wedding invite. He wouldn’t pull through back then for either of you, what makes your silly little heart think he’d pull through last night? Or for her wedding? Another ping finds your ears as you watch Spencer gather his things for the airport.

“Munchie. I’m sorry.” “Munchie, I'll be at The Brindleton for lunch. My treat.” “Munchie. Please call me back. I love you”. You don’t notice Spencer looking at you or the tilt in his head as he analyzes your body language. He’s trying to gauge how you feel about your father because unbeknownst to you, you crying in his arms last night solidified that maybe you were ready for anything that comes after 3 years 9 months 19 days and 6 hours of dating. That black velvet box that has been sitting behind the books you find most boring on his bookshelf is now digging a hole into his heart. You look up and find him staring and you just smile at him. And he smiles back.

It's just anatomy

Hate that you're half of me

You flew in 3 hours ago and found yourself at Spencer’s place. Playing with his fingers as he lays on the couch underneath you. Your phone blares your ringtone and Spencer looks at you. You pick it up, watch it ring and when it’s done he notices the multitude of calls you’ve missed. 19. All of them from your father. And he watches as you open your phone, and block his number. Then you delete his contact and set your phone down again. He watches as you contently lie back down and sigh. A silent relief falling off your shoulders. His eyes fly to the bookshelf and then back to you. 

“Hey, why'd you come straight to mine?” Spencer crane's his neck to look at you and you shrug. You spare him no glance as you melt into him even more. He wouldn't have thought that was possible minutes ago.

“I was ready to come home.” your simple answer does it for him. He makes up his mind immediately. And you do too.

It's just anatomy, you make up half of me

On your 4 year anniversary Spencer pops the question. Over dinner at home. And of course you say yes, excited to show your mom and sister. No longer does your father cross your mind. Instead it’s filled with what your future could look like. Half Spencer, half you.

But still, you don't know me at all

You get the occasional call to your work phone but you’ve seen that number before and instead you ignore it. Spencer and the team watches as you do. No longer does it bother anyone because the only place he can reach you is work, and unfortunately a lot of calls go unanswered as a government worker. 

You've been my missing piece, so why aren't you missing me?

You watch your sister walk down the aisle in front of you with her fiance’s dad guiding her. Which makes you think about how you’d like to walk you down the aisle. You turn to Spencer who’s looking ahead at your sister and smile. Your missing piece was never your father. You just held a spot open for someone to love and missed the clear sign that there was always someone there.

Guess I meant less than I thought

A year and a half go by and you’re sitting at your sister’s house with Spencer. She hands you a small box and you find a small cupcake, its topper, a baby pacifier. You gasp as you stand and reach for your sister with wide eyes. She squeals as you squeeze her and turn to Spencer who has dug his finger in the icing of your cupcake. You roll your eyes and turn to Ameilia.

“You are going to be the BEST auntie ever. I love you.” it no longer hurts to hear I love you. Especially when you know the person saying it means it. It means even more when you know you mean it too.

“I love you more.”

It's just anatomy

“For all it’s worth…I knew you had a nose job. I just loved your face so much I never said anything.” Spencer whispers into your ear the night before the wedding. You roll over and face him with creased eyebrows. 

“Are you sure it isn’t because you profiled me and knew I wasn’t going to ever recover if you had told me you knew?” You ask it in a joking way but Spencer can see the truth behind it. 5 years, 7 months, 24 days, 23 hours and 56 minutes of loving you and he can tell everything about you. He never misses a chance to learn something new though. 

“It could be that…” he mumbles as he shoves his face between your breasts in a way of getting more comfortable. If neither of you get any sleep the wedding won’t be exactly as you planned it. And he would hate to make his bride’s perfect wedding go wrong. “Angel, it’s just anatomy. I wouldn’t have cared. I still don’t.” he whispers it and you almost don’t hear it. Almost. But you do and you shuffle closer before wrapping your arms around him.

“And that is why I said yes.” you kiss the top of his head before closing your eyes and attempting to fall asleep. A full day is ahead of you in no less than 10 hours.

Hate that you're half of me

“You ready?” you turn and find Hotch at your side. You wouldn’t have asked for a better father figure to walk you down the aisle. And he was honored you asked. He turns to you and adjusts your dress once more mumbling about modesty and returns to your right side. He holds his arm out for you and you lay your hand in the slit of his elbow.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” comes your response. And within seconds the door is opening, the music is playing, and Hotch is walking you down the aisle. Blood surely didn’t make this family, you did. The BAU was your family. Your dad was just…anatomy.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Everyone asking about dante and vergil hcs but what about the cute lil something well known as nero?

(if you dont want to thats fine just remember to eat, drink water and sleep pleaseee)

oh absolutely, nero deserves as much love as his father and uncle. i would love to do more for nero or at least start.

Nero could be stubborn and hotheaded at times, but most of the time they came from well meaning places, places where he only wants the best for others, yet his need to protect eerily reflects his father's need for power.

for how could they protect what matters most if they can not protect themselves first? that was the true endgame in the quest for more power in Vergil's eyes and while Nero can see why, can see how he could easily end up like his father very easily

but he had one thing vergil unfortunetly not granted: a secure foundation in the form of the people he allows within his life and the lessons that followed afterwards.

Yet it seemed like to Nero he learnt his most valuable lessons when he was doing next to nothing with you.

The importance of valuing the time he has with others because it’s the first thing that will be missed, the slower more mundane moments where nothing special has to be the reason to make you and Nero attempt in baking goods, the moments where almost burning the kitchen down was a valuable memory as you both laughed upon agreeing that neither of you should ever touch anything in the kitchen ever again as long as you lived.

The conversations at night where everyone was seemingly asleep but the two of you, talking about things that have been on your minds for a long time, finally now coming to the surface after being repressed.

‘There’s no guideline in how life should work, sometimes it’s good, sometimes it shit.’ You began as you sat on the roof with Nero, dressed in one of his older hoodies as you both looked skyward. ‘Life is what we make it, as cliche as it may seem, but you’re not behind or too ahead becuase you’re where you are needed right now, appreciating that while it may seem long, life is insufferably short simultaneously.’ You continue as Nero now looks at you, eyes soft as you reciprocated his tender smile.

‘We want more time yet we complain how long it seemed to drag out, so why not make the most of the long and short moments we’re granted instead of taking them for granted, because I’m content with where I am right now,’ you nudge his shoulder, ‘spending time with the best man in my life.’

‘Shut up.’ Nero replies, rubbing the back of his head out of habit. ‘But I’m happy with where I am too.’ He adds while still very much looking at you. ‘Very happy then I ever thought I would be.’

You rest your head on his shoulder as your hand instinctively reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers together. ‘As you should be Nero, you deserve to be happy more than anyone.’

‘More than you? No way.’ Nero argues, always having an issue with you always putting him above yourself, it wasn’t fair because what could he possibly have that you didn’t in your entirety? He didn’t understand how you couldn’t see yourself the way he did, glowing and radiant as though you belonged with the stars; whereas he was fated to watch you from a roof on his lonesome.

‘Nero-‘ you tried to begin but once Nero got started on something, it was hard for him to stop, especially if it was something he felt extremely deeply about.

‘No, you deserve to just be as happy, if not more, and I don’t know why you think of me as highly as you do because what is it that you see in me that I can’t see in myself?’ He asks in disbelief, laughing humourlessly as your brows furrowed.

‘I just see you Nero, that’s all I ever need to know that you deserve happiness. I see you.’ You answered. ‘I don’t need no deeper need to find reasons to hold you in the light that I do because I just do, as though it’s natural as breathing, blinking and more.’ You prodded his forehead with the finger of your free hand, cussing him to blink in surprised which made you smile at his cute expression.

‘So stop overthinking your worth, stop overthinking and seconding guessing why people could like you because it hinders you from seeing what you’ve done, and will do to realise that the answer was clear all along.’ You finished, pecking his cheek.

Nero rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed in content as he smiles. ‘You done upstaging me? It’s not fair that you can so easily make everything okay, to make everything feel right, to say it’s okay to feel how I feel whether it’s good or bad. While I’m ofer here gaping like a a dumb fucking fish.’

You laugh. ‘That’s not true! You comfort me in other ways that matter! We excel at different things and that’s okay, even if you can be a little clumsy in doing so.’ Nero gave you an unimpressed look upon opening his eyes, which only proved in making you laugh harder. ‘But that’s what makes my Nero, Nero.’ You add.

Nero knew he could never truly feel like when you were there to ground him, keep him above water and guide him out of many dark places. He wasn’t expected to be anyone other then himself with you, there was no standard that had to be met with you as you welcomed him so openly, even when he was lost within his anger and couldn’t see straight.

He owed you a lot and he planned to by starting right now, enjoying the smaller moments that would’ve been taken for granted had it been anyone else.

[dekariosclan]

My favorite Gale lines that I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER choose

…because they involve breaking up/hurting Gale and I am not strong enough for that 😮‍💨

Credit to the YouTubers who WERE strong enough and who posted these vids publicly for all to see: Copperspoon, BearRhi and Yaren Allena

I wanted to share for anyone who hasn’t seen these lines, because they are so heartbreakingly sweet, and they’re such a great glimpse into how deeply Gale loves Tav and how important commitment is to him. For my fellow Galemancers who are unable to select the ‘mean options’, this post is for you! Angst ahead (but worry not, I promise the end of this post will be uplifting)

So in Act II, when you are in the ‘flirting’ stage with the companions, if you find yourself romantically involved with someone else alongside Gale, you’ll get this dialogue, where he asks you to choose:

If you select the option that indicates you’d like to have a relationship with them both, Gale will respond very similarly to how he does if you ask about opening up your relationship to Halsin in Act III:

Gale: I’m sorry, but to know I had less than the whole of your heart - I can’t do it. Not when I would give all of myself to you. Call me greedy, stubborn, old-fashioned…but I cannot change who I am, or how I love. In any case, know that I harbor no ill will. I would rather see you happy with another, than not happy at all.

I love his first two sentences so much, because they really do sum up how Gale views your relationship: when he says he loves you, he loves you, and he is all-in. He gives his entire heart to you and he only asks that you do the same in return.

But also, look at how sweet and selfless he is, not harboring anger here even if you are considering ending the relationship. And, as if his lines above didn’t hurt enough, IF you are somehow strong enough to go through with the breakup, you can ask Gale if he hates you. And he says this:

Gale: I could no more hate you than I could go without air.

🫠😭😩 WHO CAN GO THROUGH WITH BREAKING UP HE IS THE SWEETEST MAN IN EXISTENCE HONEST TO GOD

Are you still with me? Is your heart obliterated? Hang on, we aren’t done. During your initial conversation you could also choose this option, stating you didn’t realize how strongly he felt:

And then Gale will respond with this:

Gale: Perhaps I should have done more. Been more charming, more flattering, harder to reach…but I was only myself, and sometimes that isn’t enough.

💔 This is especially heartbreaking, not only because of how Gale already feels like he’s ‘not enough’ after his failed relationship with Mystra, but ALSO, if you consider the exact words he says when he declares his endless devotion to Tav in the Act III alternate boat scene:

Gale: You see me as I am, and do not find me wanting. With these stars as my witness, I swear—you will always be enough for me.

You can see just how much it means to him.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

OKAY. If you have made it this far, time for some relief. All of the above dialogue aside, if you when you immediately come to your senses and realize NO OF COURSE YOU WON’T BREAK UP WITH GALE, HOW COULD ANYONE EVER DO THAT you simply tell him you’ve chosen him and, after he very sweetly expresses his concern for the other companions’s feelings, he will proclaim his relief and unwavering love for you:

Gale: I am beyond lucky to have you. Sometimes even the power of the Weave seems mundane, compared to how you make me feel.

❤️❤️❤️

Now, go forth my fellow Galemancers, never think of this post again, be content in the knowledge that you made the right choice in choosing Gale, and kiss that wizard with tongue because HE DESERVES IT.

[cheonstapes]

HAPPY 1K THOUGH LET GO AHHHHHHH IM SO HAPPY FOR YOU

But request time gurl!😘😌✊, so what about a nerd!Miguel\dom x nerdygirl!reader LIKE IMAGINE THE FLUFF AND THE SMUT THERE BOTH BE A BLUSH MESS but I feel like Miguel would take the lead and show he dom when doing it like dont blame me! 😭✊ like he still nerdy Miguel we all know the sweet boy but let make the nerd that friend s with the popular group and have a girlfriend who is nerdy!reader and which is a very shy person then Miguel is.

Pls my life depends on this request gurl and I hope your having a great day though BYE STILL SO HAPPY FOR YOU EACHING 1k following

-🐈

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘OUR FIRST TIME’ (ﾟωﾟ)

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.miguel o’hara x reader.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

SMUT

you and your nerdy boyfie, miguel, have your first time together 🩷

cw; loss of virginity, creampie!!!!!, iloveyous, it’s actually really cute, womb fucking ig, softdom!nerd!miguel, NAWT PROODREAD!!!

2k+ words

@cheonstapes: thank you sm lovelie🩷🩷 apologies it took so long but this was so fun to write and i love your mind. i hope you enjoy beautiful! also tumblr keeps fucking up my italics and bolds so im gonna add them on later!

you and miguel had to have been the most stereotypical couple at the university.

who would’ve guessed the two biggest nerds on campus would’ve gotten together — especially when it was because of your shared interest in genetics. but to miguel’s friends, it was so sweet — a little cringe, but sweet. seeing that it had already been a year since you two started dating, the two of you not being able to hold a conversation without stuttering and blushed profusely was quite concerning.

every time you looked him in the eyes, your heart would suddenly beat a million times faster — face flushing, hands trembling as you try to come off as calm as possible. it was so embarrassing, you could cry just thinking about it. he had such pretty eyes hidden behind those thin frames, didn’t make it better that he would stare into your soul every time you talked.

but miguel wasn’t any better — in fact, he was worse. his whole friendship group being the talk of the college helped miguel to open up more, the persistent attention meaning he had to adapt to being surrounded by people. the incessant staring? that’s him trying to make himself less nervous by making you more nervous so you would stop looking at him so he could admire you without you realising — long, i know. but he loved how sweet you were, the way you were so deeply in love with him — just like he was with you.

walking out of your biology lecture, he speeds up walking to catch you on the othwr side of the room — gently slipping his hands into yours. you tense, looking up at his handsome face before relaxing — “ah, m-miggy!” he smiles so softly, wrapping his beefy arm around your waist. “hey, pretty — you finished for today?” his fingers squeeze the fat of your hips, pulling you into his chest as he leans against a nearby wall.

he always knew how to make you so fucking nervous, staring down at you like you were the centre of his world — which you in fact were. “yeah! i was just gonna go back to my dorm and study. would…well, it’s ok if you’re busy — but do you, maybe, wanna…” god, why is it so hard to ask your boyfriend to hangout! he knew what you wanted to ask, he just wanted to hear you say it. “do i wanna what, hm? i mean — i don’t have any plans later either, i was thinking of going to pete-“

“no!” a brief flicker of slight panic takes over your face, you refuse to be that much of a mess to the point where you can even ask your own boyfriend out. “i mean, would you like to come my dorm tonight? t-to study, obviously.” amazing job, girlfriend, amazing job. once again, he wore that stupidly handsome smirk — fingers kneading the soft flesh of your waist. “study? of course, babe — why didn’t you just ask?” prick.

miguel always said he found it easier to study when you were right next to him — as in, resting in between his legs as your head lay on his chest. “did you get the answer to number 8? i think i missed that lesson…” you tilt your head, looking up at him. you looked so cute with your little glasses as you studied, a small pout on your lips as you tap on his leg for him to help you out.

he was thinking a lot of things right now, and none of them were the answer for number 8. before he met you, miguel was always deep in his studies — head buried in a textbook every night. but now you’re his, he can’t think about anything else. the outline of your chest against your tight shirt, pert nipples straining against the fabric since you insist you feel better without a bra — he wasn’t a perv, but damn if you were making him feel like one.

“u-uh…i think — uhhhh…” he was really fucked. your cute little giggle and the way you shimmied around to sit on your knees, hands clutching his cheeks. “migs, you’re burning up! you ok?” he was no ok, not by a long shot. despite having so much attention on him simply because of the people he’s friends with, miguel was still very much a virgin. yeah, he’s jerked off before — but that was only after he met you. your entrance into his life awakened a part of his brain that he thought was forever stored away — and he did not know how to deal with it.

sex was something the two of you were yet to talk about, 2 years into the relationship and it was like you were kids about to have their first kiss. there were lingering touches here and there, but oh how badly he wants to feel your sweet pussy around him. “can… i touch you?” he could barely register the words that came out of his mouth before he takes in the way your face changes completely. the heat radiating from your cheeks could melt the arctic, that was the one thing you weren’t expecting to hear. at all.

of course, you were a virgin too — all in all saving yourself for miguel for when the time comes. you just didn’t expect it to be so soon. he looked so depraved already, panting softly — hair tousled from when he was laying down, you want him so, so bad. “u-uh, yeah — go ahead!” you didn’t mean to sound so enthusiastic, but miguel didn’t care — a hand immediately trailing up your plush thighs, toying with the edge of your panties under your skirt. “you’re…you’re so pretty.” he could feel his hands shaking, heart pounding in his chest — the warmth of your skin and the small moans leaving your lips were fucking with his head.

the tender skin was so sensitive, causing your thighs to tremble under his touch. he didn’t expect you to be so sensitive. fuck, did he want to tease you for it, but he couldn’t talk — not when he was already about to bust when you haven’t even touched him yet. “mmm — m-miggy.. please..touch me.” you could tell he wanted to, he just didn’t know where to start. his fingers ran up your inner thigh, teasingly running over the small wet patch on your cute panties.

he felt like a newborn learning how to walk again, the rugged rhythm in which he was working your little clit showed how inexperienced he is — but you didn’t care, especially not when you yourself couldn’t even notice his lack of technique. he fully pulled your panties down your legs, throwing them to the side — there was a sharp in take of breath from him as he stared at your bare cunt, his bulge pressing harder aganst the mattress.

“g-god, baby, can… can i taste you, please?” miguel couldn’t believe how desperate he sounded, he had dreamed about eating your pretty, little pussy out for ever now, the thought of you denying him that now would break him. “y-yeah, fuck. please, miggy.” his tongue immediately latched onto your clit, swirling and sucking it into his mouth as his fingers probed your tight hole.

he knew you would need some extra prep to be prepared for taking him, so he made sure to make you feel as good as possible — he wasn’t about to let your first time be your worst. the fat of your thighs were tight around his head, holding him in place as he steadily fucked you with his tongue. for someone who was a virgin only 20 minutes ago, he sure knew how to work that tongue — your breathy moans breaking through the sloppy squelching noises of your wetness.

“migs…i — mmph!” the sensation was unknown but not unwelcome. a firm pressure in your tummy that felt like a dam about to burst all over your boyfriend’s face. miguel’s watched enough porn to know what that sound meant, reluctantly sitting up from his position between your legs to peer down at you — drooling cock bobbing between his thighs. he licked your arousal from his lips, shakily grabbing onto your legs to push them over his shoulders.

“baby, ‘m not letting you cum until you’ve had my cock in you — ‘s not how it works.” he felt like he was going insane, the sight of your pussy, so tantalisingly close to his length — the chubby tip poking against your entrance. you could only nod, you couldn’t argue with that — not when you’ve been waiting for this moment. upon getting your approval, he wrapped a beefy hand around his cock — smearing his pre-cum along your puffy folds.

he was so slow when he pushed into you, the sheer girth of him stretching your poor pussy thin. “fuckin’ hell, baby— s-so, so tight.” his strong hips pounded against your pelvis, your skin tinging a faint shade of red. your body was jostled against the headboard with every thrust, a thick rim of cream forming at his base. miguel was lost in the feeling of your cunt, drooling mindlessly against your neck as he rammed deep inside of you.

“m-miguel…!” the harder he fucked into you, the shakier your voice was — whiny moans and heavy grunts reverberated through your small dorm room. he couldn’t believe how good fucking you felt, your velvety walls gripping onto him like a life line. miguel was completely delirious, only letting incoherent mumbles — a bruising grip on your waist as he brings you back against his cock.

“ohhh, f-fuck…! iloveyou, so — shit, so much!” your pussy was so good, he didn’t even realised it slipped out — i love you. he really did, and in this moment — there was nothing else but the two of you, connecting so beautifully as you give yourselves to each other fully. he messily sucks on the skin just below your ear, simply grinding into your womb as his hand trails down your back — squeezing the flesh of your ass to pull you flush against him.

“i…i love you too, migs.”

you..you love him too? fuck. his hips stilled, gooey cum filling your cunt raw as he pours all of his love into you. miguel’s back heaved, his arms giving out under him as he falls on top of you — wrapping an arm around your waist as he carefully rubs your clit. his heart was soaring, smiling down at you as he fucked himself into overstimulation — determined to see you cum all over his cock.

“my pretty girl, you’re all mine — wanna see you cum. you gonna cum for me, yeah?” god, his voice was husky and deep — tickling your ear and sending tingles down your spine. your legs trembled, cunt spasming as it gushed out that clear liquid. it coated the sheets below you, splashing against his stomach — a low, gravelly moan leaving miguel as he filled you with his cum once again.

the two of you laid in silence for a beat, panting softly as he rested on your chest. one of your hands moved up to cup his face, picking up his glasses from your bedside stand — placing them on his face, albeit with wonkily but it matched that dopey grin on his face. “i swear to god, i’ve turned you into an animal, migs! you sure that was your first time?” giggling, you kissed his lips softly — nimble fingers brushing through his sweaty hair.

“guess i got a bit carried away, huh?” he sighed, softly rubbing your tummy. “‘s not my fault i’ve got the most beautiful, sexiest, most loving, caring, perfect, goddess of a girlfriend anyone could wish for.”

miguel was embarrassingly in love with you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-smack myass like a drum

[menlove]

youve probably answered this before but what DO you think is the most realistic version of what went down?? like do you think paul misinterpreted john's hints or that john never made it clear enough to paul how he felt? i know theres no way to know but you have such a good grasp on their personalities and this seriously might haunt me forever lkadjf

i actually don't think i have ! i wrote a lil speculative Thing about what things would look like if paul were queer and closeted (which is what i think) and that interpretation but never specifically this question but...

this is long and rambly but have my thoughts lmfao

basically To Me i do think they had some sort of sexual relationship. to me it's honestly the most likely scenario given the..... everything. their interactions with each other, some of their songs about each other ("i used to hold you in my arms"), the way things blew up so spectacularly, etc. and my reasoning there is mostly that. we know already that they had really loose sexual boundaries with each other. they jerked off together, they fucked women in the same room together & allegedly together as well. and already just those two/three things constitute as a sexual relationship, but not smth they would've seen as one.

but i do think they did more than that. i mean, it doesn't really matter if they did more than that, the rest of what i'm gonna speculate stands even if all they ever did was jerk off together and fuck women together, but like... aside from the like Mountains of evidence that there was something there, i just think it makes sense w their personalities. john isn't the type of person to have self-restraint and i don't think paul, especially when he was younger, would've turned john down. i think if john was into men (which he was, we know this) and if he was into paul (incredibly likely) then he would've made a move. and i think if he made a move and got rejected he would have raised hell, and that never happened.

i think they probably started doing shit together (again, the extent of that is debatable) and they absolutely did Not think of it as being anything queer. i couldn't tell you the mental loops they tied themselves in there, but i have Some thoughts just based on who they are. i think john probably passed it off as like "a hand's a hand, a mouth's a mouth" type of thing (which is hilariously something yoko talks about him saying in her audio diary during the white album sessions). and i think paul probably saw it (& any other things he was doing with men, if he did) as something fun that feels good and isn't something he needs to like look into deeply. i think neither of them would've thought of themselves as queer, bc they probably thought of queerness as very binary- you're either gay or you're straight. and they both were into women (.....ostensibly) so they couldn't be gay. i think john like realized, on some level, that he was queer and Hated it about himself for a very long time and only started coming to grips with it towards the end of his life. i think paul eventually came around to it but by that time he was married to linda (& if rumors are to believed, possibly having threesomes with her and men lmfao) & i don't think he would Ever want to come out publicly even if he's out privately (which i do think he is).

so why didn't they get together? why is paul so insistent that john was straight and not in love with him? i think they just genuinely never talked about it. ever. like i don't think they had that conversation. if neither of them were gay and their sexual relationship was just john and paul things, there wasn't any need to talk about it. queerness was more acceptable for the young. not in an open sort of way, absolutely not, but in the way that they could tell themselves they'd grow out of it, they were just messing around, etc.

i think things got harder when brian died- he died queer, alone, and in a situation that a lot of people thought was suicide. and ofc, we know the band didn't think it was suicide, and i don't think it was either, but that's the kind of thing that sticks in the back of your mind. esp if you're like john who had a lot of mystical/magical thinking. i think it was a bit of a wake up call. time to grow up. i think they both thought they were each the Only one dealing with actual queer feelings & attraction to the other and were soooo sure the other one was just straight and fucking around. which probably hurt, quite a bit, but wasn't something they wanted to look at anyway.

and when john got with yoko and got serious with her, i think that was the bubble bursting. cynthia was different. they got together so young, he never made her a priority, he cheated on her constantly, belittled her, didn't have a place for her by his side bc he carved that space out exclusively for paul. and you can tell that just by the amount of quotes paul has about john marrying yoko being the catalyst, about it being time to grow up, etc which is insane considering he was already married and so were george and ringo. for years. so it was something deeper than that. and it's bc he was actually taking yoko seriously. paul's spot as john's primary partner got filled by a woman. who john was genuinely in love with, not like cynthia which was a marriage fueled by the age old tale of an unplanned pregnancy and comphet. and paul can't argue with that. like....... if he viewed what they were doing as messing around as kids, with john being straight and him being the one pining, he wouldn't want to fuck up john's chance at a Normal Straight Love. if he were a girl, he could, but he wasn't. what he Could do was match him and grow up too. cue the immediate pivot to get married and have children, eventually fulfilled in linda.

but i don't think he expected the band to implode just bc they stopped being so close in whatever manner. but it did. along with other reasons, obviously- there's a million reasons the band broke up, but i think they could've weathered it if they had kept the closeness they'd had at the beginning. or if they'd been single or even if they'd just kept viewing each other as their primary partner aside from their wives.

i think they both came to terms with what they actually meant to each other in the 70s, but they never actually... told each other. what we have from john is jealous guy, which paul was allegedly told was about him, and that demo version of real love that paul never even heard where he laments about him having a baby/farm and how he used to hold him. there's also (just like) starting over, but that one's easy to see as being for yoko too and paul wouldn't have thought twice about it. then you have now & then and real love, which were on that damn tape for paul :( like he literally didn't hear them until after john died and we know he likes the idea that now & then is about him but even then he doesn't sound totally convinced

for paul we have a lot. but a lot of his like more vulnerable songs were only released after john died. like here today, obviously, but there's also some pretty telling ones that john never would've heard (like best friend, which he played live, but wasn't on any album until 2018. or a more of a Stretch of one but i 100% think is about john, hey diddle, which was kept off ram and only released in 2001).

so like i think they very much both came to grips with the fact that they had been in love with each other, but they never really.... thought that could be returned. so ofc paul's going to say shit like how he likes the theory that john was in love with him or wrote now & then about him. but he doesn't believe it, because to him john was Genuinely straight and he was the weird one. and vice versa. i think i saw a more recent thing from him coming around more on the idea of john being bi, but honestly i think that's just hard for him to come to grips with bc what the hell are you supposed to do with that? like yeah, he was into men, possibly even romantically, on a genuine level, just not him? that's hurtful. i don't think he wants to think of that option. bc that's more likely to him than the idea that john was in love with him and hiding it the whole time. which is also heartbreaking. bc then it's just a tragedy of circumstances and missed chances- which is what i think it was. and neither of those routes are something i think he wants to consider, so john has to be straight in his mind.

but if he's coming around on that, he's probably coming around on one of those two options. i hope it's the latter bc the idea that he'd think even now that john never loved him is just so fucking sad. and considering his comments about now & then, as well as the lyrics video for now & then, i really do think the latter is more likely.

anywayyyyy tl;dr i think they fucked around sexually in Some Way, never said a single thing romantically, both came to terms w their feelings in the 70s but by then it was too late and they didn't think the other one would reciprocate anyway, and now paul's been trying to come to grips w the ambiguity of their relationship for the last 40+ years.

[jennarations]

a wise friend of mine today said “if anyone can write sex pollen BOY do i have a pitch for you” about that landoscar vid and uh here we are. 2k of landoscar sex pollen! thanks for hitting me with the apollo dodgeball jae<3

—

It starts as something innocent. A quick and breathy shudder running down his back, touching his shoulders and gliding along the ridges of his spine.

Lando tries not to pay much attention to it because seriously, it could just be nerves, the pressure and excitement of a new season underfoot.

So Lando pushes the shiver to the back of his mind, focusing more heavily on the graphics in front of him, trying his hardest to pay even the slightest bit of attention during this debrief.

—

The next sign something is wrong doesn’t manifest until an hour before FP2.

Lando has firmly planted himself in front of not one, not two, but three, standing fans in his driver’s room, and somehow he’s still sweating.

A short knock on the door has him almost jumping out of his skin before he shakily shouts for whoever it is to come in already.

Oscar pokes his head around the door, holding the edge with a fully splayed hand, Lando notices.

“Hey Andrea is asking for you—“ Oscar says before abruptly stopping. Lando just blinks and hopes the sweat in his hairline isn’t pouring down the side of his face like he feels it is.

Oscar’s eyebrows furrow, “Are you okay, mate?”

Lando registers he has to actually use his words when a few seconds have already passed and all he’s done is hyper focus on Oscar’s knuckles.

“Yeah. Yeah, no, I’m mint. Hah.” Lando somehow chokes out. His brain feels like it’s cooking inside his skull but he’s totally fine.

Oscar clears his throat and motions towards the collection of fans, “Did you uh, need another one? I have one in my room I can bring down?”

Lando scrubs at his forehead and breathes deeply, “No no I think this is enough, thanks though.” It is not nearly enough fans but Lando seems to be completely incapable of forming a coherent sentence at the moment and he can’t handle any more conversation with Oscar or he might just start to melt. So Oscar gives him one quick nod and disappears reluctantly back out the door.

Lando doesn’t notice the obvious wet stains all over his clothes, especially the one spot pooling near his crotch.

But he does notice as Oscar’s leaving that his ears are very very red. Huh.

—

Lando hauls himself out of the car after FP3 as if he might just throw up right on the asphalt but somehow he holds himself together enough to almost sprint back to his driver’s room.

His knees feel like gelatin and his head is full of cotton. The sweating seems to have only gotten worse and to Lando’s utter horror, the worst symptom of all seems to be in his pants.

He had chalked it up to a bit of pre-practice excitement when he had to roughly jack himself off in the shower before yanking himself into his fireproofs, but if the angry pulsing and sensitivity were anything to go by during practice, then this might be an even bigger problem than he originally thought.

The second his door is slammed shut he begins wildly tearing at his helmet and fireproofs, a constant stream of off off off running through his murky consciousness.

The fan from earlier is still blasting, swaying gently from side to side in a perfect rhythm of ease and calm, a stark juxtaposition to how Lando feels. Someone must have come by to collect the extra fans he requisitioned from different parts of the hospitality. Lando wishes he had told Oscar yes earlier, then at least he’d have two fans to work with.

The thought of Oscar sends a shockwave through Lando’s body, moving in a swift line straight to his dick. Lando fights the urge to squeeze at the pressure while he fights off the last of his clothing.

Usually Lando is good about keeping the very tiny crush on Oscar that he’s been harboring for at least the last season under wraps, even in his own mind. But for some unknown reason Oscar is the only thing running through his thoughts. A near constant stream of Oscar’s hands, his shoulders, the taper to his waist, the thick of his neck playing on repeat.

He tries to push the images of Oscar out of his mind after he finally wraps a shaky hand around his dick. The pressure only intensifies as he pumps roughly up and down his length, and to his utter dismay, the Oscar visuals are only strengthening in definition.

Lando’s mind is humming and his body begins jerking uncontrollably until he has to throw himself against the nearest wall. He rests his forehead against the cool surface and bucks uncontrollably into his palm.

His body is on fire and it feels like the room is melting around him as he comes for the second time that day against the cream colored wall.

He welcomes the sense of relief that overtakes him and he takes a deep breath for the first time since he hopped out of the car. But to Lando’s horror, he realizes with growing franticness that his dick is already hardening again and the haze that is sitting over his mind is descending once again.

He groans in frustration and feels his knees give out. Lando maneuvers himself back to where the couch is but somehow in his hurry to throw himself backwards he hits the rack with his backup fireproofs and ends up in a pile of clothes on the floor.

He’ll definitely feel that tomorrow but he can’t even bring himself to give that thought his full attention at the moment.

The thoughts of Oscar are intensifying and now Lando is imagining Oscar’s hand around his dick instead of his own. The small whimpering noises that come out of him sound foreign to his own ears. He grabs hold of one of the shirts next to his head and swipes at the sweat on his forehead, but then as he takes a shallow breath he smells something that makes him squeeze around himself.

Oscar.

How can he be smelling Oscar on his own shirt? It’s not like they’re around each other enough for his scent to rub off so strongly onto Lando.

But that doesn’t matter because now Lando can smell Oscar and that combined with the visual in his mind of Oscar breathing down his neck and squeezing his dick is overpowering the confusion in his mind.

And then the door opens.

—

Something’s been off with Lando the last few days. Oscar is sure of it.

It’s small things that Oscar has been noticing here and there, behavior that seems off to him.

Maybe it’s the new season that’s making Lando seem so jumpy, the pressure of renewed expectations and high hopes for what they know they can achieve this season.

There was the sweat situation. Lando has been sweating buckets since Thursday and on Friday morning Oscar happened to catch him in his driver’s room, which felt more like a freezer, sweating like he was sitting in an oven.

Then there were the little noises that Lando kept making during the presser when he was doing his shitty Andrea impression. Those noises went straight to Oscar’s dick but thankfully he was able to cross his legs quickly enough that no one would’ve noticed his issue.

Now Lando seems to be avoiding him entirely, hiding in his driver’s room every chance he gets it seems.

Oscar’s worry soars to new heights as he watches Lando practically leap out of his car and bolt back through the garage towards his driver’s room.

Oscar wonders on the best course of action as he wanders his way back towards his own room. He manages to pull his helmet off and swipe some of the sweat off of his forehead as he idly chats to a few of the mechanics as he passes by.

Oscar thinks of asking the team doctor to check on Lando as he turns the doorknob to his own driver’s room.

But all thoughts of possible solutions fly out the window the second he swings his door open.

There, in the messy pile of clothes Oscar had left on the floor, is Lando. And he’s naked. And smelling Oscar’s shirt.

And he’s jacking himself off at an absolutely brutal pace. Then, Oscar’s eyes finally lock onto Lando’s crazed ones, and the world explodes.

—

Everything is white. The world turned white.

Wait, the world isn’t white. And something is terribly, terribly wrong. But Lando can’t seem to get his brain to move fast enough to figure this part out.

But then he comes back down from outer space and the world finally returns to focus. And in that focus is Oscar, looking absolutely wrecked.

It’s at this moment that Lando registers his monumental mistake. He never ended up in his driver’s room in the first place. The couch is in the wrong spot and the shirt he’s holding is one he’s only ever seen on Oscar. He’s in Oscar’s room. Jacking himself off into oblivion.

But as he opens his mouth to speak and figure out a way out of this mess without completely ruining their relationship, something else grips hold of him entirely.

He shudders and feels the sweat start to boil over again and suddenly his dick is rock hard once again. Lando groans and his eyes roll back in his skull while he tries not to grope himself further in front of his teammate.

Before he can get anything else out, Oscar chokes out a quiet, “Wow.”

Lando blearily looks back at Oscar and feels his hand move on autopilot back towards his crotch. Then he can’t help the pathetic whimper that slips out of him.

Lando works up every bit of control he’s got left and barks out a husky, “Oscar, please.”

And then everything is moving in fast forward. Oscar is ripping his fireproofs off and then bending down to scoop Lando up from his nest on the floor. Searing hot hands are hauling him up from the floor and crowding him onto the couch.

But then Oscar isn’t touching him anymore and to Lando’s disappointment he’s not even naked, just in his black underclothes.

Oscar lightly tilts Lando’s chin towards him, searching his eyes for something. But Lando can’t even register any of this as his hand is still moving at a fevered pace along his dick, seeking that momentary release from earlier.

Then the cotton in his head clears enough for him to hear Oscar say, “What do you need?”

And Lando whines and pushes his body closer to Oscar’s on the couch. “Touch me, please for the love of god Oscar, touch me.”

Oscar grunts and grabs at his hair, pushing it further back on his forehead. “Okay, okay, yeah. I can do that.”

And Oscar makes good on his promise, finally peeling off his black undershirt and crowding into Lando’s space on the couch. He reaches a hand down between them and when Lando feels Oscar’s hand wrap firmly around his dick he thinks this might be the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Oscar starts pumping slowly up and down, giving the head a little twist on the way. But he’s looking into Lando’s eyes still, looking for the answer to what’s happening, but Lando can’t even try to explain this situation. All he can think is touch me touch me touch me.

And that’s what ends up pouring from his lips as Oscar groans again. “Please, please, please, Oscar, don’t stop.” Lando moans out hoarsely. He’s shocked he even still has a voice left.

Oscar starts to pull up and down more quickly, pressing his own dick into Lando’s thigh. “Wanted it this bad, huh? Needed to sneak into my room and spread yourself out in my clothes?” Oscar breathes out in a voice Lando’s sure he’s never heard before but decides he needs to hear every day for the rest of his life.

“Uh huh. Oscar. Oscar, please, gonna—“ Lando shudders, pressing further into Oscar’s grip.

Oscar breathes across Lando’s neck and nuzzles his nose into the sensitive patch behind Lando’s ear. Then he’s gruffly whispering, “Come for me baby.”

And for the third time that day, Lando feels the world blow apart around him. Thankfully this time Oscar is here to catch him.

[agneslovestheinternet-blog]

four ways to say his name fbiagent!stiles x nurse!girlfriend ft. teacher!scott aged up characters (mid-twenties), post-canon

<+--------+>

It’s Saturday, it’s six-fifteen in the morning and the kitchen of your apartment looks as though a category-five hurricane has swept through it. Stiles had decided to wake up early to prepare you a full breakfast before your twelve-hour shift, complete with made-from-scratch blueberry pancakes. They were obviously delicious but your boyfriend is incapable of cooking anything without pulling out damn near every measuring cup, bowl, ingredient and utensil that your cramped kitchen contains. Considering Stiles had already half abandoned the cleaning process in favor of talking to Scott over the matcha lattes he’d brought over from Starbucks, you issue your boyfriend a warning from the doorway:

“Mieczysław, I’m serious. This kitchen better be spotless.” Your tone is serious but there’s a smile on your face as you shut the door gently behind you. Despite his frequent bouts of distraction, Stiles never fails to pull his weight of the household chores. 

The noise of his conversation with Scott peters out and the sounds of clanging kitchen equipment and running water replaces it. Stiles hums as he works, already planning the dinner he’ll have on the table for you when you shuffle back into your shared abode at around eight-thirty tonight. Scott sips his dwindling latte with a puzzled expression on his face that his friend doesn’t notice.

“How often does Y/N call you that?” Scott asks, having to raise his voice to be heard over Stiles’ furious scrubbing of a deceptively-named ‘no-stick’ pan.

“What, my real name?”

“Yeah,”

“Every so often, I guess…” Stiles starts, his brain suddenly being filled with relevant memories. “Actually, she’s kind of specific about it. She only uses it in like, four different ways,” he continues, cocking his head to the side as he shuts off the sink.

“Oh yeah, what ways?” Scott continues, his interest growing. He’s known his best friend for almost two decades and he can still barely pronounce ‘Mieczysław’. Hearing you rattle it off effortlessly, with a slight accent like Polish is your first language, (even though he’s very aware that it’s not), deeply impressed him.

“Um, well, when she’s trying to get me to remember or pay attention to something, like she just did. When she’s mad at me, definitely,” Stiles turns back around to face his friend, his eyes widening.

“I probably would have guessed that,” Scott replies through a laugh.

“She also sometimes uses it when she says ‘I love you’. I don’t know why, I think it’s sweet though,” Stiles continues with a gentler tone and Scott gives a small smile. It’s nice to hear that his best friend is happy and in love, even if it does cause a slight twinge of jealousy to reverberate through his chest.

“And she says it when we-you know…” Stiles trails off, raising his eyebrows and gesturing aimlessly with his hands. Scott gasps slightly.

“Oh…got it,” he replies to Stiles, bobbing his head and avoiding eye contact. Stiles dampens a rag in the sink and begins to wipe down the countertop in large, sweeping motions.

“Doesn’t that…um, get kind of confusing?” Scott asks timidly, taking the last swig of his drink. Stiles raises his eyebrows and a slight smirk pulls at the corners of his lips. “That she uses that name when she’s mad at you and when…you know,” he blushes as he finishes his sentence. Despite his closeness with Stiles, Scott really doesn’t want to hear the finer details of his sex life. Especially since he’s actually starting to form a real friendship with you.

Stiles wrings out the rag in the sink and ponders his friend's question for a moment. He hasn’t really thought about the seriously contradictory ways you chose to use his full name, but now that he does, he realizes Scott’s right.

“Yeah, I guess a little bit,” he starts, replaying in his head the last several times ‘Mieczysław’ has fallen from your lips. Some of the memories are sweet, some are slightly painful, and some of them are far too X-rated to tell his friend. 

“But it’s a good kind of confusing, you know?” he breaks into a genuine grin that prompts Scott to roll his eyes. 

It takes several minutes of Scott pivoting the conversation to an awkward parent meeting he had about a student of his that won’t stop searching wildly inappropriate things on school wi-fi for the mischievous grin to finally dissipate from Stiles’ face.

<+--------+>

[brokensocialscone]

With respect to those of us who think that Sinners isn't for or against Christianity but about following your own path, I'd like to offer it alternative take on that.

(Disclaimer: the history of Blues music in the Black communities is complicated and as a white Christian settler who's read a couple of books I'm definitely not an expert. So, you know, take what I'm about to say with a grain of salt.)

History tells us that Black Christian communities (especially Baptist) were really the backbone of many of emancipation communities and enslaved communities as well. In a lot of places we only have records of thriving Black communities near churches. Whatever you may think about Christianity in this time and place, churches like the one in the film gave oppressed Black people a vision of liberation and equality. It is not an accident that Martin Luther King Jr. was a minister. Or that John Lewis preached to his chicken when he was a boy. The liberation offered by (what I would consider) a true understanding of the Christian gospel is deeply intertwined with Black liberation. Ryan Coogler knows this. He was very intentional about making the main character a blues guitarist with the nickname Preacher Boy.

It's not so much that blues is of Satan, it's about the way the music endangers those who make it. When you consider in history and in the film what happens to people who spend their lives as musicians, it usually doesn't end well. Within the movie our best example is Delta Slim, who's a glorious master musician, but also an alcoholic with no family. Ryan Coogler shows us that he lives his life in deep despair. We see this when he encounters the Chain Gang. His best friend was lynched. His only goal in life is to make enough money to get corn liquor on a consistent basis until he drinks himself to death. That's not a liberating vision of the future.

And I think Ryan Coogler is very intentional about having a character like that to show us that we can romanticize the lives of musicians and Poets and griots but in that place and time in America, Black musicians are not thriving, even the famous ones. More likely than not they're following prey to addiction, they're falling prey to exploitative business practices, they're not making enough money to survive and thrive. It's hard for them to have family. It's hard for them to have Community. They're traveling all the time and it's an isolating stressful lifestyle.

(Even today it's not as stressful as it used to be and we still see our musicians and artists fall victim to addictions and other problems that prevent them from living a full life!)

So to say that this movie was about Sammy making the best choice, the choice to be a blues musician, seems a little reductive. I mean maybe it is the best choice for him! But I think he also would have lived a good life if he had stayed in his community.

I think the film gives us that ambiguity, especially when you look at the two older brothers. There's a big difference between Preacher Boy's dad and the twins' dad. Preacher Boy's dad is hard but he's not an abuser. They have a whole conversation in the movie just to let you know that! We don't know what the twins's father did for a living but the fact that the twins came up as criminals doesn't suggest that he had anything positive to pass down and teach them.

I think that there were more options for Sammie. He could have lived his whole life in that Community, singing in that church and giving his gifts to God. He could have lived a good life. And yeah, he lived a great life as a bluesman but that was very very lucky. He was able to overcome all kinds of institutional barriers and addictions to survive. He's able to be an older man playing the Blues, he's celebrated, he's feted, but surviving literal vampires was only the first step. He sees Stack and Mary way in the future and he tells them that day, the day they were turned into monsters, was the greatest day of his life. Playing the blues is a wonderful dream come true but it also suggests to me that if that day was the peak, he could have dropped the guitar and still lived a good life.

I don't think the movie is really about "Christianity is good" or "Christianity is bad" or "Blues is good" or "Blues is bad." I think it's just about how difficult the choices are sometimes if you're Black and you are touched by God. Being a genius griot doesn't save you from the Klan. Some Delta blues guitarists only lived healthy lives when they gave up blues and went back to other kinds of work. Sometimes that (to us false) dichotomy of blues vs. God was the only thing that gave them respite from addictions. It's complicated.

[sga-owns-my-soul]

im having a lot of thoughts today so i'm making it everyone else's problem sharing it with y'all but i keep thinking about how so much of rodney's character SCREAMS deeply closeted gay man??

like i think rodney's main issue in life (aside from being a genius child prodigy in a public high school in the 80s bc let's be real that wouldve Done Numbers on his mental state) is he Does Not Know the difference between Admiration and Attraction

when he sees a woman he admires and looks up to he assumes it has to be attraction, and Men are Supposed To Act a certain way around women, so he tries to do that and of course it fails horribly bc one- his idea of how to act around women is founded in extreme amounts of sexism and two- he's not actually attracted to them and is doing a terrible mimicry at it

like when you look at how he acts around sam, for example. everyone has seen that gif set of sam saying she hates him and rodney thinking they're flirting (which totally sells the idea to me that rodney has mostly if not exclusively had hate sex)(and also that his parents hated each other and fought constantly so that's his only example of "romance") right and we've all also seen that gif set of rodney admitting he's jealous of sam because she's brilliant and i think when you take those two conversations and put them side by side it's really easy to see a man who Is Not Attracted To Women but doesn't know how to act around them except through attraction so he takes all of these criticisms and anger towards him and assumes it has to be flirting because that's what men and women are supposed to do, you yell and scream at each other then have sex about it then do it all over again.

and on the flip side, i think when he sees a man he's attracted to, he assumes it Has To Be admiration because he thinks that's the only way he's allowed to feel towards other men (that or jealousy, which we also see a lot of) so instead of just having a crush on someone he feels the need to defend why they're so cool and amazing and perfect and wonderful because they HAVE TO BE because if they're not why else would rodney "admire" them or be jealous of them?

and i think this HEAVILY plays into how rodney sees john. rodney can't fathom his feelings for john as attraction which means it HAS to be admiration/jealousy and we do see that very often, ESPECIALLY around women. rodney looooooves to bitch about how john gets all the women but when rodney does have a woman actually interested and trying to pursue him he freezes up and stumbles and has no idea what to do or where to go (see: the brotherhood and inferno) rodney constantly goes off about how cool and suave and charming and a ladies man john is and those of us who have eyes and ears are very aware that john is None Of Those Things, and i think rodney's insistence that he is comes from the fact that rodney cannot comprehend that what he feels is attraction and because of his own deeply rooted internalized homophobia he NEEDS john to be this Prime Example of Male Perfection because why else is rodney obsessed with him? why else does rodney want to be around him all the time? if johns not this perfect example of a man, what does that say about rodney and his desire to always be with john?

[loveandmurders]

Never forget: ya're a Sinclair (Sinclair brothers x adopted Sinclair sister!reader - Part III finale)

And here we go for the last part of this little series. Let's be honest this is my favourite chapter, the ending makes me feel so good.

You can find the imagine and the other parts of this series here :

A little imagine // Part 1 // Part 2

Hope you'll enjoy! <3

Warnings: no proof reading, jealous and overprotective!Sinclair brothers, mentions of sickness, death and blood, very morally grey reader, mentions of the Sinclair brothers desiring you, a few strong words, violence feels a little bit too good

The next morning, you were a little bit surprised to find the three men already settled at the kitchen table. They were so deeply focused on their conversation that they didn’t hear you coming. 

“What’s up?” you asked and they all jumped and looked up at you.

“Ah hello, darl’” Bo hummed as he got up for his good morning hug. Your two other brothers did the same. They all hugged you a little bit longer and tighter than usual. 

You noticed they didn’t answer you right away, so you quietly started to eat before Vincent started to sign to you:

“What do you want to do about your “family”?” he asked and you felt how tense they all were, waiting for your answers like lions ready to jump on their prey. 

They had always been very protective of you, but it felt different than usual. A new kind of fire was burning through their veins. You could tell they were ready to destroy everything if it meant keeping you theirs. You were reassured because it meant your parents were wrong about you - you were loved and lovable -, but you were also quite curious about this.

“I don’t really know. I kinda just want to let the karma deal with them. I mean, Lydia will die if I don’t do anything, and her husband’ll lose it without her. Being that powerless will destroy him.” you replied with a little shrug. 

The night had brought you a lot of peace, especially after having spent the evening being cuddled and looked after by the Sinclairs.

“There is still the other one” Bo groaned and Vincent and Lester quickly nodded their heads in agreement with that

“The other one? Sean?” you hummed with a raised eyebrow. You had to admit that it was amusing you a little bit to see them acting like that. “You’re jealous?” you teased

“Ya ain’t needin’ anyone else in your life but us. He’s a threat to this family” Bo replied, his eyes seemed darker than usual.

So that was a yes.

“He is no threat” you tried to reassure them

“If ya ain’t lettin’ us kill him, then he is” Bo argued back and you were a little bit stunned.

“So it’s not about what I want to do to them, it’s about what you want to do to Sean” you replied “I don’t care about him” you said, even though a little part of you still wanted to know more of him “But I do care about you, and my parents would quickly know something happened to him. They would call the police and the lead would easily drive them to Ambrose. I can’t let you do something that stupid.” you tried to reason with them.

“We can find ways, do ya think we’re idiots?” Lester asked and you were a little bit taken aback that even Lester was so eager to have Sean dead.

“They know about Ambrose, even if they don’t know where it is. Yet. Look, I know you’re good at killing and smart, but this is very unnecessary. Sean is no threat. You’re the ones I love.” you said, getting a little bit worried now

“Of course we are” Bo smiled but it didn’t fully reached his eyes

“Look, I need to go to work. We’ll continue this conversation tonight.” you said, trying to get away from this for the moment. 

You stood up.

“Lester’ll drive ya to work this morning, and I’ll come get ya tonight” Bo said. 

And it wasn’t a question. You watched them all, in complete bewilderment. It was the first time they were acting that way, the first time they didn’t care about your freedom as long as it meant you were safe and by their side. You could tell how thin the line between siblings and lovers was getting now. You didn’t know what to say; you wanted to argue back but it was obvious the three men wouldn’t back off.

“You don’t trust me?” you finally asked

“We don’t trust him. And we want ya to be safe.” Lester tried to smooth things out

“Somethin’ wrong with that plan, love? Maybe ya wanted to spend some time with Sean without tellin’ us?” Bo asked, he wasn’t hiding his paranoia or jealousy at all

“Of course not” you simply shook your head; you didn’t want to upset them any more they already were

“Then it’s settled” Bo hummed and you found yourself nodding. 

You looked at Lester

“Do we go?” you softly asked and Lester got up. 

You kissed the twins on their cheeks before leaving the house with Lester.

You settled in his truck without a word, and Lester started the engine. After a little while of driving, Lester couldn’t stand your silence so he put a hand on your knee. His eyes never left the roads.

“Hey, sorry ‘bout that. It’s just that ya’re very important to us. And we don’t wanna anyone hurtin’ ya… Or takin’ ya away from us.” he tried to explain. You nodded

“Of course and I really appreciate it. You know, I was worried that… I don’t know…Maybe that you’d agree with my parents or that you’d want me to join them. And you are clearly showing me that you won’t do this but… But isn’t it a little bit extreme?” you replied

“In no world, we’d’ve wanted ya to leave us… Or to let ya leave us. We’d go crazy without ya, ya know. And I'd like to admit we are overreactin’ but… But it feels right knowin’ we are keepin’ ya safe by our side” Lester sent you a quick glance as he felt his cheeks reddening. 

You were speechless. If Lester was behaving that way, you couldn't even imagine what the twins were thinking or feeling about all of this. 

“I didn’t except any of you to react that way” you admitted

“We love ya” Lester said as if it was explaining it all

“I know” you smiled and relaxed. “I love you the three of you too”

One thing was certain, the little voice inside your head, the one that had tried to remind you that you were unlovable and unloved, shut up. You thanked Lester for the ride as he parked in front of your work and kissed his cheek. He happily hummed and let you go. 

You barely had the time to settle in your office before receiving a new message from Sean. He told you how sorry he was. He wanted things to be fixed, he wanted you to be part of the family, no matter his mother’s conditions, no matter if you didn’t want to help her. He said he saw things in you he would like to discover, he said he needed to take care of his sister, he promised you a happy life. Of course, you knew he was trying to manipulate you. You wondered if you shouldn’t delete his message because if your boys ever read this, they would lock you up inside Ambrose. 

You did that, just to be safe.

Days passed, Sean tried to contact you again and again, while the Sinclairs tried to convince you to kill everyone over and over again. They wouldn’t do anything without your consent, but it was driving them crazy. 

In the meantime, Lester and Bo drove you to work and back home everyday. They were all a lot more attentive to you, a lot more demanding for affection as well, and a lot more gentle. You were really caught up between two families, both sweet talking to you to hide how dangerous they were. But only one truly loved you, and you knew it. You didn’t mind the way the Sinclairs were acting toward you, in all honesty. It felt nice; you were really their little matriarch. The price was they were completely terrified you would leave, even though you clearly said you didn’t want to do anything with Sean or the rest of your biological family. But as long as you refused them to be killed, the Sinclairs weren’t able to fully believe you.

You knew you needed to make a decision at some point; and yet it felt too wrong to kill them all. To kill Sean. You couldn’t be angry at him for having your parents’ love: it wasn’t his fault if you had been abandoned. You weren’t too sure how long things would stay like that.

And it seemed that fate decided it was enough after a few weeks.

You were at work when you received a message from Lester: He found Ambrose 

You didn’t understand what that could mean; or you didn’t want to understand. You closed your office door and dialled Lester’s number.

“Hey” he softly whispered as he answered his phone right away

“What’s going on?” you asked, biting on your bottom lip

“Sean. I met him on the road. Thought he was a tourist but I understood who he was when he asked me where Ambrose was. I asked him why he needed to go there and he said that he was pretty sure that his sister was still livin’ in there, even though he couldn’t find the place on the maps.”

You stayed silent, you didn’t know what to think, what to feel, what to say. You felt a lump in your throat and then you became very nauseous. You felt tears in your eyes too. Lester worried over your absence of reaction. He called your name twice before you went back to reality.

“This can’t be happening” you said

“Bo and Vincent won’t kill him without your consent” Lester said, thinking you were afraid of what was going to happen to your brother. “I warned them about his arrival. Bo will probably just talk to him, to try and drive him away from you.” Lester continued

“I… Look, I’m coming over” you finally said

“The twins can deal with this. I can promise you…” Lester started but you cut him off

“No, no. Ambrose… Ambrose can’t be stained with his presence” you finally whispered, without even realising what you were saying before hanging up.

You quickly got up and grabbed your stuff. You went to your boss and told him you really needed to go, that something happened to your family. You had never left work like that and your look of pure distress convinced him you were saying the truth, so he let you go. Actually, you would have let him fire you if it meant being allowed to go to Ambrose right away.

Ambrose had always been your safe place. You were happy to come back home every night, to spend time with your real family, to be away from reality. It was your bubble. And you couldn’t let anyone other than the Sinclairs go there. You felt a new kind of panic you never felt before. The thought of Sean in your home was making you feel awfully sick. Bo had been right, the man was a threat to your family, to your happiness, to Ambrose.

You couldn’t let this happen.

You drove to Ambrose and when you arrived and saw Sean’s car parked near Bo’s shop, some crazy thoughts washed over you. You had thought that you were simply going to give Sean some money for him to leave. But now you started to feel pure anger and disgust. No, it couldn’t be so easy for people so cruel to you. They couldn’t win. You went into Bo’s shop, grabbed a screwdriver and punctured two tires of his vehicle. 

“If he wanted to come to Ambrose that badly, he won’t ever leave it” you whispered to yourself. 

You put the screwdriver back to its place before opening one of the counter drawers. You found the small gun that Bo was hiding there, just in case he would need it with the tourists. You put it in your pants and walked toward the house.

You found Bo and Lester sitting at the kitchen table with Sean. Vincent was listening to the conversation from behind the basement door. He just wanted to jump and kill the man, but he knew he couldn’t do that without your approval. Sean smiled at you when he saw you. You licked your dry lips. Bo was trying very hard to be his charming self but he only dreamt of destroying Sean. Lester was just there to make sure the twins didn’t kill him, even if he wanted him dead too.

“What are you doing here?” you asked Sean who smiled even more

“Wanted to meet your family. You spoke so much of them. I thought it was important for them to meet me as well, so we can all be friends.” the man replied

“You shouldn’t have come” you simply said and Sean arched an eyebrow at you. 

You heard the basement door being opened and you saw Bo and Lester sitting up. The three men noticed how strained your voice was. There was something dangerous about it. Even Sean felt it.

“Look, I’m sorry if I upset you. It was really not my point.” he said “Truth to be told… I hoped your family and yourself would understand that you are needed. Mom… Mom is at the hospital right now, but if we can’t pay, they won’t keep her” he explained and real tears appeared in his eyes. 

“So you came here, instead of staying by her side” you snapped

“They had lost hope in you, but I didn’t. You are my sister” Sean replied and you let out a very dry laugh at that.

“So they don’t know you’re here?” you asked and Sean shook his head

“Mom’s out of it today and dad’s completely focused on her. He thinks I’m trying to get a loan from a bank.” Sean said.

He was hoping to sound pathetic enough for you to feel bad and to help him out. But he simply signed his death warrant. You walked closer to the table, right in front of him. You quickly grabbed the gun before aiming at him. 

“Wow, wow, okay, Y/N, what… what’s going on?” Sean panicked

“I’m a Sinclair, you piece of shit. No one harasses me, no one fucks with me and no one comes into my home uninvited.” you said “You thought I’d be an easy prey, hmm? You thought you could come here and make me feel trapped in my own fucking home?” Sean got up and tried to beg you. “You are the mouse here, and I’m the cat. And since you so wanted to play with me, I’ll play with you. I’ll give you 5 minutes head start”

He didn’t have time to understand, you simply shot him in the thigh, twice. 

The sound of the shots was deafening but you enjoyed it. You enjoyed the blood instantly spreading through his clothes. You enjoyed his scream of pain as he fell to the ground. You enjoyed how he tried to run away.

Bo and Vincent were ready to rush after him, but you called them and sat down. They looked back at you.

“I said he had 5 minutes head start” you told them as you put a timer on your phone “Don’t get me wrong, ya’re amazin’ and incredibly hot, but even with two bullets in the leg, he can manage to drive” Bo told you with urgence

“Not without two working tires” you smiled and the three men watched you as if you were their queen, desire for you rushing through their whole bodies.

Sean finished in the House of Wax, Lydia died in a pathetic motel room, Mark killed himself the next morning.

And no one ever mourned them.

[moonstrvckz]

girls are fighting !

word count: 1.1k

The walk towards the park, which Yunjin had told you to go to, was quite amusing. A few months ago, the very thought of your best friend desiring to have a face-off with you over a boy would have seemed utterly ludicrous. The park, once a place of laughter and walks with her, was now a stage for this unexpected drama to take place.

“Yo" a voice echoed behind you. You didn't need to turn around to confirm that it was Mark. Earlier, you had made it clear to him that his presence wasn't necessary, yet he had been insistent on accompanying you. Mark was always stubborn with everyone. but as he walked closer towards you, you noticed someone else was there with him - Eunseok?

"Eunseok? What are you doing here?" You couldn't hide the surprise in your voice. This was turning out to be more than you had bargained for.

"I told you I was worried about you going through with this," he says, a smile stretched across his face. You continue to move forward, your mind racing as you attempt to process his words.

"I told you I was gonna be fine, Eunseok," you respond, your gaze firmly fixed on the path ahead, refusing to meet his eyes. As the three of you approach the park, your heart skips a beat as you spot a familiar face seated on a park bench.

Suddenly, the reality of the situation hits you. This is really happening, you think to yourself. A wave of regret washes over you. If there was any possible way to turn back time, to undo this tangled mess, you would do it in a heartbeat. The pit in your stomach grows as you realize that you don't want to do this. You know that Yunjin isn't a fighter, and neither are you. Sure, you've found yourself involved in fights before, but they were for dumb reasons, never over something that destroyed your friendship. Now, your only hope is that she isn't serious about this fight, that she simply wants to engage in a one-on-one conversation with you.

“Yunjin,” you call out, standing firmly in front of her while the two boys, Mark and Eunseok, stand behind you. She glances upwards, a chuckle escaping her lips as she takes in the view.

"Well, isn't this funny?" she jests, an edge to her voice. "Felt the need to bring backup, did you?" Her tone is light, but the underlying bitterness is unmistakable. You look to your right, inhaling deeply to steady your nerves, before turning your gaze back to her.

“What did you want to talk about?” you question, trying to keep your voice steady. Her response is a burst of laughter. The sound stings, a painful reminder of how she seems to have no qualms about this impending confrontation.

“Did you really think this was going to be a conversation? You always claims to have everything figured out. Well, you couldn't be more wrong” she retorts, her tone dripping with derision. You sigh, feeling a pang of regret. This was not what you had imagined.

“Yunjin, we don't have to go through with this,” you implore, hoping to appeal to her sense of reason. But she just laughs again, and then, without warning, strikes you. The sudden slap turns your head to the right, and out of your peripheral vision, you see Eunseok stepping forward as though to intervene, but Mark holds him back.

“Can't you see? You’re the reason all of my friends dont talk to me anymore” she accuses, her voice rising with each word. Another slap lands on your face.

“You've practically ruined my life,” she continues, her voice choked with emotion. And yet another slap.

“You and your whole friend group... you're all the same,” she spits out, her words punctuated by another slap.

“You're all full of shit, especially you and Sohee,” she rages, her hand striking your face again. This time, you react. You won't stand there and let her insult Sohee. You grab her hair and pull her head back, your eyes meeting hers in a silent challenge.

“You can slap me all you want, Yunjin, but you will not talk about Sohee like that,” you declare, your voice steady despite the burning sting on your face. In a swift motion, you return her slaps and push her to the ground. You want nothing more than to walk away and never have to deal with her again.

Turning around, you glance at Eunseok and Mark, managing a small smile for them. As your eyes meet Eunseok's, a flurry of butterflies explode in your stomach. But just as you're about to enjoy the moment, Yunjin lunges towards you, causing a fight to break out.

—💌—

Despite escaping the fight without any major injuries, you were left with a medley of bruises and cuts, particularly on your knuckles from where you'd landed blows on Yunjin. In addition to the visible damage, there was a nagging suspicion that you might have also suffered a concussion, given the throbbing pain in your head.

After the fight, you somehow managed to get yourself home. Mark, ever the responsible one, left shortly after to fetch some medicine, potentially to treat what you all assumed might be a concussion. You were left alone with Eunseok, who, with a gentle touch, tended to the bruises and cuts on your hands.

In the quiet of the room, you found yourself studying Eunseok. This wasn't the first time you'd seen him up close, yet his beauty never ceased to amaze you. There was an urge, almost irresistible, to reach out and touch his face, to run your fingers through his hair. But you managed to suppress it.

“I told you to be careful,” Eunseok scolded. Yet, his tone was filled with more worry than reprimand. The softness of his voice somehow making the 'scolding' sound more like a worried whisper.

"Do I have any injuries on my face?" he asks, looking up at you with a smile. There's a moment of silence as you take in his features, struck by how attractive he is. You have to force yourself to look away before you have a chance to blush.

Unprompted, he breaks the silence with a surprising statement. "I'm taking you out tomorrow," he declares, catching you completely off guard.

You blink, taken aback. "What?" you echo, not quite believing what you just heard.

"Yes,we're going to spend the day together tomorrow. I don't think it's a good idea to leave you alone right now." His words hang in the air for a moment, leaving you speechless. It takes a while for you to process what he just said, and you find yourself unable to formulate a proper response. Instead, you just nod in agreement, still a bit dazed.

A few minutes after your conversation, Mark arrives, effectively breaking the spell that had fallen over the room.

previous | masterlist | next

taglist; @nmmsmari @istphanie @nakam00t @bonbo4ngl3s @chweverni @ryujnworld @tjbamrayg @riri4riize @sseastar-main @molensworld @brachioswrld @wonychu @dodot04lover @calumsfringe @wccycc @wontonforlifeu @poemzcheng @111ada @zero0xsstuff @makeleesbigfatass @s9nwoo @so-lychee @euiioo @rksbae @lecheugo @manooffline @addorations @bambisnc @haechology @darlingz99 @dooiiee @antonsgirlfriend @ekkisph @seungminswifesblog @lvrachelle @yyangj3lly @gyuszn @ilovechanhee @starwonb1n @iizanaa @oshtaro @poollabug @unreliablememories @kyusqult @258843 @aerivrs @sukiiflwr @yeolwrld @lampcults @netedoongie @dinosluver @dutifullyannoyingfox @revehosh @daegale @222brainrot @seongminlover @haowonbins @viciousdarlings @makgeolli-jw @hakkkuu @sungchansn1gff @antiholdinghandsclub @rrishii

bole couldnt be tagged !