#im not feeling anything and i certainly do not hope for another kiss haha what are you talking about

[stormyoceans]

I'm sorry but Puen sleeping with his SHOES ON is fucking unforgivable

SFJKSGFKSGDFJSKDS LISTEN. yeah no you're absolutely right i can't in good conscience excuse that in any way HOWEVER!!!!!!!!! i think there are some extenuating circumstances we should take into consideration!!!!!!!! like the fact that he had just been kissed by a very adorable and very drunk talay!!!!! he was going through some things!!!!!!!! his entire perception of reality was rearranging itself around that one moment and he still somehow managed to get talay home and tuck him in bed!!!!!! i think just this once we should forgive him for that severe lapse in judgement on the basis of his higher brain functions having abandoned the premises and being nowhere to be found

[kisekinodrabbles]

Can we get detective Aomine, who gets assigned a female partner but from the start they're always at each other's throats. During an undercover case, reader has to be super flirty and Aomine gets all jealous and mutual confessions ensues. Maybe some sexy times at the end? :') Sorry if this is too specific, feel free to come up with your own interpretation! I'm such a huge fan of your work Sam and I'm so excited that you're opening your askbox even just for a little while!

ngl idk what im doing here but this is the last request in my inbox so i wanted to finish it haha pls enjoy (not proofread so excuse mistakes) - also my first time writing smut in like years so forgive me!!

Sometimes, Aomine thinks that if he isn’t a law and order professional, he thinks he might actually commit murder and hide your body away in some undisclosed, obscure location. Most of the time, you feel the same way about him. 

The two work in different divisions—Aomine in homicide and you in robbery. The two divisions have always been highly competitive especially given how much overlap you both encounter. Things can get territorial, but their teams are used to your snide remarks and Aomine’s verbal assault. It’s just the way the world works. 

After all, the two of you were in the same graduating class. You, a valedictorian by books. Aomine, top of the class by combat. It’s natural that the two of you are so competitive with your conflicting personalities.

The two of you may have also fucked at some point. 

–

“I’m not fucking working with her, are you kidding me?” Aomine spits out at his boss. Any other person would’ve been kicked out of the room or probably fired, but Aomine is the best detective in his division so Akashi would never do such a thing. For now. Aomine’s been wearing his patience thin. 

The red-haired man sighs, folding his hands together atop his desk. “Aomine, I understand you both have had your immaturity in the past. This, however, isn’t the time for such trivial matters. There’s a double homicide downtown during a robbery. She’s the lead for the case on the robbery end because they’ve been tracking a series of these.” Aomine opens his mouth to argue again. “No more buts. She’s already down there getting witness statements. Unless you want to be behind again, I suggest you get in your car and start driving.” 

He grits his teeth. Breathe. Don’t strangle your boss, he’ll probably kill you first. “I’ll take Wakamatsu.”

By the time he arrives on the scene, a crowd has gathered behind the police line, snapping pictures in the hopes of getting something Twitter worthy. He growls past all of them and ducks underneath the tape. “Where’s the officer that called it in?”

“Inside talking to the detective.”

“I’m the detective,” he snaps right back, knowing full well you’re already three steps ahead of him. And you definitely won’t let him forget that.

He marches past the thick front doors, Wakamatsu in tow. From a distance, he spots you talking to another officer. When he finally approaches you, he realizes that you’re in a skin tight dress covered by an oversized police jacket.

Your name slips past his lips. “Did we interrupt a hot date?” He smirks.

You whirl around, knowing full well the irritating voice that grates on your nerves. Aomine Daiki. “Unlike you, I have actual friends and actual plans on a Friday night. Did you decide to give your wrist a break for the night?” 

Aomine bites back, “Well, it’s not getting much rest either when I had my fingers knuckle deep in something tight and wet tonight.” Complete lie but he’s not about to lose this battle. “Not sure you know how that feels though.”

“If you’re talking about the pudding in your fridge, you might want to ease up on that. Doesn’t look like it’s doing you any favors,” you smile right back at him, knowing full well you’ve won this argument.

Aomine growls low under his breath, jabbing Wakamatsu hard with his elbow when he hears the snort escape him. “Brief me on the situation,” he tells the police officer.

“Well, uh, I already told this detective here—”

“I’m the other detective in charge for homicide. Now, you better fucking brief me before I tell your captain.”

The guy glances at you warily and you just laugh. “Told you he hasn’t gotten any in a long time. Come on, sugar, I’ll brief you on the way down to the vault.” You curl your finger in a gesture to get him to follow you and he sucks up his pride for the first time and do as he’s told. If he solves this case, he still gets the credit and you can go back to that sewer where you came from.

There are two bodies at the vault and forensics are already working to collect evidence when they arrive. “Your area of expertise, double homicide. Both are surprisingly the robbers. Four of them broke in, only two were seen exiting with money bags. No other casualties.”

“Fucking weird,” Aomine mutters. It’s not new for robberies to go wrong, but for two of them to die with no civilian casualty? That’s fucking weird.  

“Interesting, isn’t it?” You grin, seeming way too pleased considering there are two dead people in front them. “The ammo is the same as the previous bank robberies in the area. We’re going to assume they’re linked to the Red Dragon clan.”

“Fuck,” he groans, “I fucking hate those guys. Bitches to deal with. Hard to infiltrate.”

You flick your hair over your shoulder, grinning at him. He can’t help but draw his gaze to your neck, a very attractive neck. Now that he notices how tight that dress is, he can’t help but admit that it has been a while since he’s gotten any action. The curves of your breast defined so clearly by the fabric that stretches across the mounds, the flow of your hips, every dip and rise. Your exposed legs further emphasized by your heels. God fucking damn. He feels his pants tighten as he licks his teeth. Get it together, Aomine. 

Of course, the clothes do nothing to remove the memory of your nude body from his mind. He’s seen all parts of you some time ago. A drunken mistake that ended in a brief, but extremely satisfying night of passion. Your tight pussy wrapped around his cock, your nails digging into his biceps. He can still picture the sheen layer of sweat on your skin as he rams into you, your broken moans falling from your lips. 

“Well, lucky for you,” you start again, pulling him out of the hazy cloud of lust. “I already have someone on the inside. They’ve set up a meeting for me tomorrow night meet with the head’s son. I’ll try to get some information done.” 

“Lucky for you, I’m free tomorrow to be your backup. You’re welcome,” Aomine smiles, “Don’t fuck this up. I don’t feel like cleaning up after your ass.”

“I should say that about you, asshole.”

–

Aomine is sat in a dingy van just across the street from the bar you’re having your meeting. You’ve hidden your mic in the perfect spot, a location which you do not disclose to Aomine. However, he has a feeling it’s somewhere promiscuous that he wants to be aware of. They can see the restaurant clearly, their brat hacker Sakurai having plugged into the restaurant’s security cameras. 

“Shut the fuck up, Aomine. I can hear you munching on your stupid sour cream and onion chips.” You mutter into your mic before the guy arrives. You sip your wine and take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve gone undercover but it is the first time to have Aomine behind you while you do so. 

The detective looks down at the can in his hands. Sour cream and onion. How did you know? He sets it aside, bringing the mic up to his lips. “Maybe you should do your job better and focus on your meeting instead of listening to me. Why are you so obsessed with me, hm?” 

However, a man’s voice on the other side of the headphones has him straightening. “Good evening, I didn’t expect to be meeting a lovely lady like you tonight,” the sleaze says and Aomine can just imagine him kissing your hand. “When Tanaka said I’d be meeting with the right hand of White Claw, I didn’t expect it to be a woman.”

“Well, we are moving up in life, Mr. Ito.”

“Your good looks are certainly quite persuasive. I’m sure there are ways you can convince me to strike a deal.”

Fucking. Sleaze.

“Oh,” you laugh lightly, “what a flatterer. You’re not so bad yourself. I can imagine people fall at their feet for you.”

“Well, I am quite knowledgeable in more ways than one. Perhaps I can show you tonight after dinner.”

The two banter back and forth, trading flirty comments that puts Aomine on edge. You’re supposed to be doing your job and he knows that. He knows this is all an act but you’re a damn good actress. 

“Aomine, where are you going?” Wakamatsu’s concerned voice carries through the speaker.

You freeze. This fucker better not screw this whole operation up. “Well,” you say, “this has been a lovely dinner. I’m sure we both can come to an agreement without doing anything reckless.” 

The double meaning, a sentence meant for the man across from you and the man listening to you rings clear. Aomine growls, sitting back down petulantly in his seat. He was about to rage in there and start a war, but holds himself back. Be professional, Aomine. Job first, dick needs later. 

“The same to you. It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” the man smiles. “Are you sure you won’t join me for the night?”

Aomine snarls low into his mic. Wakamatsu shoots him a weird look. You let out a little giggle and he knows it’s meant for him. “No, thank you, Mr. Ito. I’m afraid I have other commitments to tend to.” 

When he knows it’s safe, he storms into the restaurant where you still sit, sipping your drink. Sliding into the seat across from you, he rolls his eyes. “Enjoy yourself?” 

He didn’t see when you were set up with the mic earlier so he also hadn’t seen what you were wearing. He’s almost grateful because he knows he might’ve lost it if he did. Tight ass dress, deep neckline that shows ample cleavage (he’s always a sucker for this), sultry eyes, red lips. God, all his favorite things packaged into one. 

Your lips quirk up. “The breadsticks here are quite nice.”

“Fucking hilarious. Let’s go.”

“Why the hurry?”

“Unless you want Wakamatsu to hear me fuck you, you better dump that mic and get your ass up.”

You lean back, narrowing your eyes at him. “I’m not sure I like your tone.”

“Trust me, you don’t have to like my tone to enjoy what I’m going to do to you.”

Licking your lips, you consider your options as you bring the wine back to your lips. “Fine,” you mutter, unclipping the mic from the strap of your dress. Aomine moves faster though, snatching it from your hands and dumping it into the wine. Before you can protest, he already has a hand wrapped around yours, tugging you up from your seat and into the back room. 

You’re stumbling in his manic rush, heels barely keeping up with your movements. “Aomine!” You chide as he pushes all the way to the employee break room. The space is fortunately empty and Aomine locks it to make sure it stays that way. “Can you please stop?! You’re such a caveman, I—”

He’s quick to shut you up, swallowing your words with his lips as they slot over yours. He doesn’t waste time, shrugging off his leather jacket as he licks your bottom lip for permission. You gasp a complaint, but he takes advantage of the situation to stick his tongue in, pressing it up against yours. 

All your worries fall away into a moan as he separates from you only to gasp for breath and pull his t-shirt over his head. With nimble fingers, he’s unzipping the back of your dress and yanking it down, leaving your top half exposed. Shivering, you’re about to voice your disapproval but your brain seems to stop functioning the second your gaze lands on his tanned body.

Aomine’s always been attractive. No one can deny. There’s a reason why he’s simultaneously the precinct’s most eligible bachelorette and most insufferable jackass. His confidence matches his skills. His looks live up to his brags. Hard lines and shadows are painted on him like a masterpiece in a museum. His broad shoulders make him look even bigger with his height. His jeans that hang just low enough to be tantalizing with the hint of a v that leads to the space between his legs. 

Your mouth dries up at the sight and Aomine smirks knowingly. You’ve fallen into his bed before, he can make it happen again. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Fifth grade humor doesn’t become you, Aomine.” You scowl as he backs you up against the table in the middle of the room. He effortlessly grabs you by the ass to lift you up and onto the surface, the metal cool against your exposed thighs. 

“Did you dress up for me, doll? Knowing full well that this was going to happen,” he grins devilishly, bringing his hands up to shamelessly cup your breasts. 

It’s not as if you’re embarrassed for being so bare before him. You’re proud of your body and he damn well knows that. You let him fondle you through your bra for a little bit. “No, you animal. I dress for the job.”

“You tell me you wear this flimsy thing—” he teases the light coverage of your lingerie. The lace is sheer and barely covers your nipples, the material holding onto your breasts for dear life. “—for the job?”

“I do my job right, asshole,” you spat right back. “So are you just going to stand there or are you going to fuck me?”

A wide grin stretches across his face. The heat in his eyes carry to his hands as he works to unclasp your bra and let it fall to the ground. Aomine doesn’t waste time as you lean back on your palms, granting him full access to fondle and suckle on your tits. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nubs that have grown stiff in the contrast between the cold air and his warm breath. His teeth graze the sensitive skin hard enough to have you groaning in pleasure. His lips close in around them and suck. He uses his hand to tease and tug your other breast, pinching it to elicit that delicious whimper out of you. Aomine alternates between the two, making sure you stay warm. 

Meanwhile, you let your hand fall to the bulge between his legs. He lets out a small grunt at the initial touch but seems to respond favorably to the way you stroke the tent, nudging his hips forward for more friction. “Is that a gun in your pants or are you just excited to see me?”

“You’re so fucking ridiculous,” Aomine mutters, both humored and unamused by your comment. 

“Fuck,” you let slip as your fingers struggle to unbutton his jeans. “Your fucking pants. Don’t you live in sweats? You choose today of all days to wear your stupid tight jeans?”

Aomine chuckles, “Patience, baby. You know you like my ass in these.”

You do, but you’re not about to admit that. He quickly works off his pants, letting them drop to his ankles as he moves towards you again. While he continues to stimulate your tits, your hand begins groping his cock which is rock hard and peeking from the top of his boxers.

“God, I miss having this inside me,” you whine, pulling the flimsy fabric off and letting it pool on top of his jeans. “Condom?”

“You don’t want me raw? You know you want to feel all of my cock,” he grins. You throw him a glare and he just chuckles as he reaches for his wallet on the floor, pulling out a packet and tossing it onto the table. “But first,” he pauses, letting his hands slide down to cup your pussy, which is admittedly already drenched at that point. 

He hisses when he feels your juices drip and coat his fingers. “You’re so fucking wet, goddamn. How long have you been waiting for this?”

“When that robbery happened, I was about to get laid for the first time in months. So fucking sue me,” you snarl at him. 

“Well, I am here to please,” he wets his lips. He slips one finger in, sliding in all too easily. So he adds another finger and feels your walls pulse around him. He begins pulling it out before shoving it back in, repeating the measure to stroke your walls. He curls his fingers inside as he watches your face closely.

Your expression morphs from irritation to blinding pleasure in an instant. Your eyes slide shut, your lips part to exhale shaky breaths. Aomine seems to know exactly how to angle and twist his fingers to induce a heart attack. The sounds falling from your mouth are ephemeral, Aomine wishes he can film this moment so he can replay it over and over again. 

He pumps his fingers into you and ducks his head to take your nipple into his mouth again, tongue circling the tip. “God, you taste so fucking good. I forgot how wet you can get. Don’t even need lube to slide into you, huh? You’re already dripping for me.” 

“Asshole,” you murmur weakly, clearly in no place to retort. 

“Remember the first time I fucked you? God, you were so easy,” he grins, “you were so wet, so turned on already. Remember when I stuck my tongue in your pussy? Licking up your juices. You tasted so sweet.” 

Your breath stutters in your chest, hitching in your throat. “Fuck you, let’s not forget how quickly you came when I sucked you off.”

“I mean, the sight of you on your knees is enough to get anyone off, sweetheart.” 

“Fuck me,” you groan. Any rational thought has fizzled from your brain. The feeling of his fingers inside you is enough to consume you whole, overwhelming you in waves of rapture. 

“What was that?”

“Dickwad.”

He chuckles darkly, licking his lips again. “Beg me.”

“I’m not going to—”

Aomine yanks his fingers out, looking down at you, taunting you. He waits as you internally struggle with your moral convictions. Are you willing to give up your pride for one night just to get fucked out of your mind?

Easy.

Yes.

“Please,” you huff, “please fuck me.” 

“Please fuck me who?”

Your eyes find the ceiling, wondering what in the hell you did in your lifetime to have met the devil that is Aomine. Biting your lip, you lean closer to whisper, “Please fuck me, Da-i-ki.” 

The man is a sucker for you calling him by his first name. And to get what you want, you’re willing to play into his hands. Aomine lets out a low growl before ripping open the condom packet and rolling the thin rubber along his length. Your pussy squeezes at the sight. Just imagining what it’s like to have that thickness inside of you, fucking you full, has you on edge. 

He doesn’t waste a single second, pulling you forward and slowly positioning himself in front of you. He holds onto his cock, letting the tip trace your pussy lips, circling it and letting your juices drip onto his cock. Stroking the wetness along his dick, he uses it as a lubricant before he slides himself inside you.

When he’s buried to the hilt, Aomine leans forward and lets his forehead rest on your shoulder. Your pussy is so fucking tight. It’s squeezing and throbbing around him with the engulfing heat. He feels as if he’s going to explode right then. 

“Fuck, you really haven’t been screwed in a while,” Aomine rasps. 

“Told you.”

Aomine starts off slow, pulling out and pushing back in. With how thin the condom is, he can feel every ridge, every bump in your heat rub up against his cock. The sensations is enough to have his thighs quivering, but he’s not one to back down. He begins to pick up the pace, thrusting deep inside of you repeatedly. HIs mouth latches onto your neck, tongue lapping and teeth nipping to paint purple blooms upon your skin. 

His movements are building a bubbling pressure in the pit of your stomach. You feel your heart tightening with every move, your insides squeezing. The absolute pleasure that crashes over you has you breathless, your hands finding purchase on his arms. 

He mutters filthy words in your ear, one of his hands reaching up to tangle in your hair. He yanks back lightly, just enough to have you moaning. You like it rough, he’s well aware of that. He pounds into you relentlessly, hands keeping you in place as whimpers tumble from your mouth. 

“Fuck, right there, oh god,” you gasp, “fuck me harder. God, your dick feels so good. Filling me up so full with your thick cock.” 

“Keep talking like that and I’ll be tempted to come in you, baby,” Aomine grazes his teeth along your ear, hot breath kissing your skin. “God, I want to just fucking cream inside you.” 

“Better watch yourself, Daiki.”

Aomine grins lasciviously, sweat beginning to bead his forehead as he attempts to keep himself in check. He feels you tighten your pussy, walls closing in around him. “Bitch,” he growls. You know what you’re doing but he’s not about to let you gain dominance of the situation.

So his hands dig deeper into your hips as he fucks you harder and deeper, his cock pulsating inside of you on the brink of his self-control. “I’m about to come,” he says with eyes squeezed shut. If he sees your tits bouncing as he fucks you again, he might actually combust in that second. 

“Me too,” you panted, fingers scraping down his arms. 

With a few more pumps, Aomine spills into the rubber with a grunt. He feels you convulse around him, your entire body trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm. He can feel his come continue to leak from his cock. God, he hasn’t come this hard in a fucking long time. 

His heart is thundering in his chest from the impact of his climax. He slumped forward, leaning against you for support—also partially to feel your tits press up against his chest. “Fuck,” he huffs.

“That was good,” you admit to yourself, still breathing heavily as you begin fixing your hair. “We should do that again sometime.”

Aomine just laughs, huffing against your skin. “You’re the fucking she-devil.”

“Says the guy who’s fucking me in the back room in the middle of an undercover operation.”

“Dick first, job second.”

–

Wakamatsu looks at him when he walks into the precinct that morning. “You do realize the captain is going to kill you for fucking up that expensive mic, right?”

Fuck.

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

pls scream about Leo a lil bit cause my love for that man is neverending and i live for you guys' blog,,, and ur comte love fuels me??? head empty except for those two pureblood clowns

HNGNGNG I hope that both you and everyone that reads my shenanigans knows how utterly understood I feel when I see anyone stan Comte, if not both of those idiot purebloods bc good lord...I live for two tired fossil men that just want DOMESTIC BLISS. Literally they have no brain cells beyond respect women and we love that for us, it’s spectacular!!

Under a cut bc I went off and is long:

That being said I’d be happy to yell abt Leo!! Where do I even begin, this man was the reason I got into Ikevamp in the first place, and I’ve read just about every single one of his events at this point. He just makes me so TENDER!!!!!! For whatever reason the first thing that came to mind was this one time he lies about being jealous and MC is lolol u a fool if you think I can’t tell when you lie to me. And he’s so fuckiNG SHOOK?????? It’s even funnier because she’s internally like [I’m not 100% sure but for a second there he almost looked mad...time to test this theory even if it’s just A GAME T H E O R Y] And he’s so fucking pikachu meme that shit sends me. I can’t handle the fact that he’s so used to people just assuming he’s fine, that he can handle himself. That he’s lived for so long without really anyone noticing at all. (Comte absolutely notices and will lightly roast him, but doesn’t really push him about it or wants to overstep). And so when MC just actively pays attention and is so gentle with him he’s just floored???

God I’m crying now, but I will just never forget the funeral scene in his fucking rt. This asshole, this absolute moron, straight up tries to come at us with “yOu GeT uSeD tO iT aFtEr HaLf A mIlLeNiUm, i’M nOt SaD”. Like are you serious. Come here and let me hold you before I throttle you. Absolute clown. He’s just always trying so hard to get by on his own and it breaks my heart. How long...how long has he lived just getting by, nursing his own wounds and dragging himself up all by himself. HE LEFT HOME AT LIKE 14 (whatever the fuCK SOME TOO YOUNG AGE) AND RAN STRAIGHT INTO THE HANDS OF PEOPLE THAT HATED HIM FOR HIS TALENT. HE REMEMBERS HIS MENTORS DESTROYING HIS UTENSILS WHILE TRYING TO ESCAPE PARENTS THAT WHOLEHEARTEDLY REJECTED ANY EXPRESSION OF LOVE OR COMPASSION FOR HUMANITY THAT HE CHERISHED SO DEEPLY. I DON’T NEED SLEEP I NEED TO HUG HIM IMMEDIATELY FUCKING HELL.

Like.........there’s just........I don’t know how to explain it, but I once saw it explained so well in a post. It was basically talking about Castlevania, and how in that show Dracula sees humanity’s folly and develops so much hatred he just goes straight to murder rage. And while in some ways I understand that, I understand even more deeply Trevor’s response to humanity’s fear and violence. He says that he knows they’re short-sighted, that maybe we all just don’t deserve saving...but that he’s going to do it anyway. Leonardo just so much gives me that energy of knowing there’s so much pain in the world, but all we can do is keep walking--keep trying, even if we have to claw our way forward. Because if you only see the awfulness in front of you, you forget the way that strangers make silly faces at babies to make them laugh on the train, how a friend will put everything down to race over to someone and comfort them with some ice cream--do anything they can to distract them from the hurt. How the sight of a child crying will prompt careful cooing from a stranger as to their bravery, an offering of cool water, the gentle placement of a bandaid. How a pair of teenagers will spot a lost child in milliseconds and help them seek out their parents protectively. There is so much wretchedness, but also so much beauty in it all, and the older I get the more I see myself wanting to believe in the latter. I want to be hopeful, and easily impressed, and full of love. To be bitter and jaded accomplishes nothing, and only becomes a worsening self-fulfilling prophecy. The more you seek negativity, the more you will find it; and worse, create it.

I also scream a little bit bc like. I’ve gone on and on about how Comte is very obviously in love with MC all the time, and sure that may be true. But...I really don’t think Leo is exempt from that either if I’m honest lmfao. Only because what does Leonardo do when it isn’t his route? He almost never shows up. Once in a while he might appear for a split second in a scene, but he almost never converses with MC beyond those short moments. While Comte is the one to pine openly, I’d wager Leo is the opposite. He pines in absolute silence, because he knows that if he gets any closer--he’s going to fall. He’s going to enjoy it too much, going to keep seeking out more before he can stop himself. And losing another person he loves...he just can’t do it anymore. In his first meeting story he talks about seeing MC’s eyes and feeling like he’d known them all his life, and even in his MS he speaks to just being completely fascinated by and enamored of her. She doesn’t hesitate, always does her best, meets people head-on and without much hesitation. After a lifetime of people that are probably just immediately interested in him for his talents, or always seeking out his company for the novelty, this is someone that doesn’t give a single fuck if he’s Leonardo da Vinci. Sure she’s aware, and sure she’s impressed to some extent, but her respect--her attraction and admiration--is something that has to be earned. 

There’s something so refreshing about how their love was written. Sure it’s the whole fake marriage to a real relationship, but it’s also a kind of subtle enemies to lovers pulled off masterfully. MC is 100% minding her own business, just wants to do what she must in order to get home, tries to focus on her work to keep from thinking about how much she misses her old life. She doesn’t rely on anyone, doesn’t talk about how hard it is or how scary it is or how confusing. And even Leonardo forgets in his curiosity, is just chillin and also just trying to do the bare minimum to keep from getting too attached--figures he can admire her from a distance. And then he sees her staring at the hourglass. And suddenly, he can’t just watch her do that herself. Just wait for the hard times to pass, just sit with her own loneliness--that hollowing silence. There’s something so moving about it because he reaches out precisely because he knows that feeling to his fucking marrow, and literally just cannot watch somebody else do that to themselves. Sure he’s been dealing with it for three hundred years, BUT THIS GOOD BABIE CHILD DOES NOT DESERVE THIS. SHE WORKS HARD AND DESERVES NICE THINGS!!!!!!!! And so he drives her crazy as he races ahead of her, intercepting any attempt for her to preserve that silence and hide. She doesn’t see any pattern to it, and that’s just how he likes it--he doesn’t want her to worry about the how or why. 

Like I fully remembering playing in Japanese and being like oh my fucking god this is hilarious, this man is just a wild fucker and I love this. I was enjoying myself, mostly laughing and shaking my head. But then it just gets so, so serious. I was having so much fun that I, like a fool, forgot the anime effect. If you’re having fun, it’s going to come crashing down without mercy soon enough. And it does. He helps a little girl without any hope play her violin again, and maybe I’m just too English major but I was fucking FLOORED when I realized I didn’t see that that was straight foreshadowing. That little girl without hope? That was MC (and by extension depending on how you play, us). Though the metaphor isn’t quite so easily mapped without a physical space, the connection is clear when you think about it. With his careful social awareness, he makes a place for MC to exist in the mansion so naturally--as though she was meant to be there from the start, crafts a positive impression of her presence with each of the residents. And he does it with zero expectation of anything in return; he’s just happy to see her not stressing herself out anymore or trying to do everything alone. MC doesn’t fall in love with him despite their differences, she falls in love with him because they are the same in a singular and all-encompassing way that matters; they both care about other people so deeply, to the point where they will forego any personal needs in order to make that person’s life easier. Whether it be muting their own hardship, or working to involve another person in a new space (or opening up to the point of self-destruction to keep a person from feeling alone), they go above and beyond what anybody asks of them--perhaps strong to the point of their own detriment, in some cases. 

It’s why I always laugh when he says to Sebastian “That cara mia, she has a good heart.” Of course she does, Leonardo; it certainly takes one to know one. 

And because I literally have no brain cells beyond being in fucking love with Leonardo THE LAKE SCENE IS AN AFFRONT TO MY DIGNITY AND SELF-CONTROL. HOW DARE YOU, SIGNORE. HOW DARE YOU ASK ME TO SIT THERE AND WATCH YOU OPEN YOUR HEART TO ME AND NOT BAWL MY EYES OUT AND TRY TO KISS YOU ALL AT THE SAME TIME. SIGNORE “hAhA yOu’Re So SmAlL yOu LoOk LiKe YoU’rE DrOwNiNg In My CoAt.” I WOULD DROWN AND DIE HAPPY--BITCH I TELL YOU THAT.

Like. I can’t think of another route I’ve ever done where I spent a good amount of time like “lmfao this guy is so wild im gonna punch him” to just be in a whirlpool of my own tears, regretting my entire fucking LIFE days later. Like Leonardo’s cultural impact???? Fucking immeasurable, I wish every white man disaster I ever met had a hidden heart of gold in all of his boyish dumbassery, an ICONIC himbo of our time. 

Also because I remembered it before posting and I am Dying^TM. The event where MC was a pureblood and he was human. That entire fucking event. I literally can’t think about it without screaming and crying. Her just so flustered at his reaction to her like “oh look, free real estate” as he plops her in his lap, absolutely no fear, treating her like a princess because of her noble title despite NO NECESSITY BEYOND PLAYFULNESS BUT ALSO STILL MEANING IT IN AN EARNEST WAY, being charming to no END just to see her laugh or look away shyly. 

WHEN HE SAID. WHEN HE SAID “...Can’t leave you alone, or you might go off someplace I can’t follow.” I. CONGRATULATIONS, YOU STRIPPED DEVOTION DOWN TO ITS BARE ESSENTIALS!!!!!! GAH HOW MC HERSELF SAYS “I would tell him the truth but...he’s much too generous for a human. I know he would offer his life without a moment’s hesitation.” How Leo describes the aftermath of her biting him: “Lucky for you, I’m a true gentleman, Unlike my principessa, who took me like a storm” HELLO??????? H E L  L O ???????????????????????? ARE WE JUST GOING TO SLEEP ON THE FACT THAT HE LOST HIS ENTIRE SOUL WHEN SHE BIT HIM???? I--

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

(Also as much as I love him the cigarillos have got to go at some point, boy do you have any idea the shit secondhand smoke does good lordt)

[bleufrost]

Can I request a how Tom Hiddleston would react to an unplanned pregnancy

Tom x reader: Little Pink Plus Sign

masterlist

a/n: you are always welcome to request anything youd like! Here ya go, love. I hope you like it <3

**i obviously am not tom, nor do i know the guy so this is all just in fun**

warnings: panic, some angst, and fluff

Tom is not the kind of guy who begs for a family. He wants one, but everything happens in time and when it is supposed to. He believes that when things are meant to transpire, they most certainly will.

Having said that, unplanned pregnancies are, for lack of a better word, unexpected. With everything going on in terms of acting in plays and working on the new Loki series, now was not the most perfect time to have unforeseen changes occur, especially not one as big as bringing a child into the world. 

The moment you start getting sick in the morning, you start to worry. Not trying to panic, you leave it all alone. Your period isn’t due for another week, so this isn’t anything to worry over currently. The panic could wait until things were more sure.

The next week came...and it went with no sign of a period whatsoever. It was still not time to panic yet. Periods could be unpredictable and a week late meant nothing. Tomorrow you could pick up a pregnancy test and that would be the end all for the situation. Going to bed that night, your stomach was turning. Tomorrow could mean the change of everything.

Tom was gone, as he was most mornings recently. Normally you would go down to the theater to watch rehearsals, but today you had a mission. Wrapping yourself up to protect from the morning cold, you grab your keys and drive to the nearest drug store to pick up the tiny stick that would predict your future.

After the third attempt, and a whole container of orange juice later, you come up with the little pink plus sign once again. Three strikes, you knew what that meant. You nervously grab the packages and tests, throwing the trash into the large dumpster outside. You keep one of the tests, wrapping your hands around it and holding it to your chest as you go back inside. 

Unlocking the door, Tom enters into a dark house. You normally don’t like to keep the lights off when you’re alone, so he instantly becomes a bit worried. “Love, I’m home!” He calls out into the seemingly empty house and hears a small clatter come from the kitchen. 

You have nearly everything together when you hear the front door open and Tom call to you from the entrance. Nerves catch in your throat and you choose to not respond, fearing you’ll break down and ruin the hopefully pleasant surprise.

It’s not that you’re afraid of Tom leaving you or acting out against you for the baby you’re now carrying; he has always been the level headed one and carries himself with an aura of calming energy that always did the trick to calm your rattling nerves. No, you were more afraid of potentially putting a damper on his already busy life. The last thing you want is to strain him, so whatever you both decide is best you are willing to do. You just can’t help but hope that this decision will involve hearing the scampering of little feet down the hall in a year from now. 

“Love, this is absolutely breathtaking.” You turn at the sound of his voice and watch his expression as he takes in the dining room. You had placed candles and small bunches of wildflowers around the room; the table housed two plates with a small array of different food that came as a result of you not being able to make up your mind on what to make. It didn’t matter though, Tom enjoyed everything you put in the effort to make for him. 

“Hi.” It’s all you can think to say. Tom laughs softly and crosses the room to embrace you. He places a small kiss to your lips and smiles down at you. “Hello there.”

Nervously, you pull away from Tom and take the last little dish over to the table. He looks after you questioningly, but moves to pull out your chair despite your odd behavior. You sit and take a shaky breath, not knowing how long you can keep such a heavy piece of information to yourself. 

Ten minutes into dinner, Tom is already getting to work on attempting to settle some of your nerves. At first he tries to get you to talk to him a bit more, but he soon picks up on the fact that you aren’t in the right headspace to lead a conversation. Ever patient, he dives into a story about his rehearsal today that he hopes will make you laugh. It does, but you find yourself feeling guilty for not giving him your full attention. 

“So love, what did you get up to today?” He looks back at you, gently prompting you to speak. At that moment you see so much care and patience in his eyes that it comes out faster than you can think to stop it.

“I’m pregnant.” Tom’s eyes go from gentle to shocked in less than a second. His mouth opens and shuts a few times and you can’t breathe; not until he reacts. 

Finally, he finds his voice again and looks at you imploringly. “Are you sure?” The question isn’t angry or accusing, just curious. Reaching into your pocket you pull out the test you saved and slide it across the table to him. 

Warmth radiates from his hand as it comes down over yours, taking the test and lifting to see for himself. You still can’t quite gauge his reaction, but you do hear his breath hitch and that causes you to spiral.

“I know it’s not good timing. I can take care of the baby and work though, my job is flexible enough that it won’t cause any problems.” Still, he says nothing. It’s almost as if his eyes are glued to the test. Maybe he’s silently willing the little pink plus sign to disappear.

“Tom, I understand if you don’t want us.” The words are quiet and, like his eyes were stuck to the test, yours drop to stare at your fidgeting hands. 

Those words float over to his ears and instantly pull him from the endless stream of thoughts he had been having. They hurt him; stab at his heart in a way that he never wants to feel again.

Tom rushes over and kneels in front of you. His hands come up to take yours into his palms and the expression on his face is anything but angry. 

“Don’t want you? How could I ever not? You’re right, it’s not necessarily the most ideal timing but that isn’t anyone's fault at all love.” You look into his eyes and they are completely sincere. He doesn’t blame you for getting pregnant; which, looking back on it you now realize was a ridiculous thought in entirety. 

The smile that spreads across his face causes you to wearily smile back. “The only regret I have about any of this is that I won’t be as present as I would wish to be for the next few months. I’ll do everything I can to be here though, I promise you.” You lean forward and pull him into a hug as tears start to fall down your cheeks. You guys were going to be okay; everything was going to be okay.

“I love you, Tom.” He smiles and pulls back to press a kiss to your forehead. “Don’t ever doubt that I feel the same. You and this child will know nothing but love.”

a/n: im working on a keanu pregnancy drabble too so yall with baby fever stay tuned haha

[stonyiscanon]

socially awkward! peter parker x oblivious shit! reader

read: peter has a heart attack every time he talks to you because you’re too pretty and nice oof

lmfao just experimenting some new head canon//writing styles lmk what you guys think 🥺

it’s essentially a crack fic i have no regrets.

Warnings: an excessive amount of exclamation points used, overload of fluff, it might be little TOO crack-y if that’s even possible for me, a confusing amount of POV switches. ok it’s just shitty writing would you please read it.

Words: 4.8k this be a baby fic

Genre: fluffity fluff, idiots to lovers, high school! reader, god just read the title.

my masterlist is here if you want more shit

talk to me! be my friend please im lonely

 peter first meets you when you’re new to midtown and you get sorted into his science class.

you sat in front of him your very first day and yeah he’s been soft™ for you ever since

like no joke the first time he saw your face he freezed up and choked on his banana

‘oh nO NED!!! she’s PRETTY!!’

‘like, REALLY pretty!!! S H I T’

‘um,,... okay ain’t that a good thing you sit behind her in class!! maybe you can ask for her number or something—‘

oh hohohohoho ned my friend,,

N O

ABSOLUTELY NOT

peter parker has spoken to you a total of twenty-two (22) times within the whole year that you’ve been... acquaintances?? classmates?? ….. friends???

and his fat secret crush on you will STAY A SECRET THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

he’ll die before he asks you out or makes a move because there’s no way in hell peter has a chance with you, the beautiful new girl.

‘i mean, she’s not just beautiful too! she’s so smart, and i know that because i can literally see all her notes from behind her and she gets like, basically all A’s, but she doesn’t even know she’s smart and beautiful?? like, she never raises her hand in class even though i know she knows all th-’

you would think ned would be tired of peter’s ‘shit I’m in LOVE’ rants by now, he’s not because we stan supportive friend ned.

hehe little does he know his big fat secret crush may not be,, totally unrequited

👀

oKAY so maybe you have a humongous tiny crush on the dorky cute guy who sits behind you in science class

WHAT ABOUT IT not like he likes you back anyways.

that one time you asked him for a pencil he looked like he was having an aneurysm!! like okay, are you that hideous or—?

(yeah it totally doesn’t hurt at all that the cute guy you like is repulsed by your presence and seems to ignore you and tense up whenever you’re around)

(t o ta ll y) 🤡

yeah y/n kinda dumb in this because the entire student body knows about peter’s (not so secret lmFAO) crush on you

everyone lOwkEy ships it

ned is president of the petery/n shipper fanclub

that may be because he’s the only member in aforementioned fanclub but you two have many supporters outside the fanclub

ned hypes peter up everytime science class comes around and peter gets kinda confident when he walks in the classroom

‘yeah! i got this!! maybe this time i won’t stare at her hair creepily and then run aw-‘

‘hey peter!’

asjkdjejnxHAUXINENEIAIRJBSJS

ABORT NEVERMIND I DONT GOT THIS ASKXISNNDKSN

peters brain has left the building

and he kinda stares at you for a sec and runs off to his seat at the back

hm, yeah he definitely doesn’t like you

you sigh as you take your seat in front of him, trying to ignore how your love for this dork is completely one sided

the entire class wants to throttle both of you

so then for the sake of the cliche and the plot (did you heart that fourth wall break?? nvm i didn’t hear nothin)

gasp group project time??!?!?!?!

dang who could have saw this coming

totally unexpected

wow

peter is half hoping to get you and half DREADING to

because he knows if he gets you he’ll be able to spend time with you but 300% won’t be able to function and will most certainly fail this project

but i mean who cares about grades.

in a plot twist that literally no one saw coming,,,

‘betty and liz, you’ll be doing yours on atomic structure,

and peter and y/n are partners! you’ll be doing...’

oh nO

you’re partnered up with peter!

i mean this is great news you get to stare at his precious face more but you’re basically forcing him to spend time with someone he doesn’t like!!

so you turn around and you give him an apologetic and (cute as FXCK) small smile

meanwhile, peter combusts

one look at your smile and he just knows he’s completely fucked

like he physically uwus so hard he slams his head on the table

‘oh! are.. you okay? i mean, is working with me really going to be that bad?’

awkward laugh to hide the pain,, quick y/n!!

‘nO!! i mean, no, absolutely not that’s not what i- it wasn’t my- i didn’t m-‘

you smile a little sadly this time and say,

‘don’t worry about it, i know you don’t like me. it’s only two weeks anyway. i promise i won’t take much of your time.’

wait. hold up. back up here. wha-? wHO doesn’t like W HO??

‘wait what do you mea-‘

‘don’t worry about it. wanna meet at the library after school to get a head start on this?’

‘uh, yeah. i mean- cowabunga…!’

wat

shit peter has never wanted to die more in his entire life

so he does what any other normal person would do and yEEts out the classroom full speed

leaving you slightly hurt but mostly just confused

peter strolls in the library casually attempting to strain his neck 360 degrees to look for you

he looks like a chicken and also that’s humanly impossible but leave him be he’s iN LOVE

he spots you on one of the study tables. he takes a deep breath,, and walks over

‘hey!! sorry i’m a little late, uh, something… came up haha’

acting like the poor boy didn’t stand outside the library for fifteen minutes thinking about what he was going to say to you

‘no worries!’ you shoot him another one of those painfully adorable smiles and peter wants nothing more but to give that smile a smooch because damn that is a face that deserves smooches

but he also has a tiny feeling that maybe you might not appreciate it if he randomly kissed you out of nowhere

(you would not mind at all but he doesn’t know that)

‘so yeah! ready to compare the wonders of chemistry and motion physics?’ peter says, bending down to snatch his backpack up to the table (effectively hiding his red cheeks)

you snort as you prop your elbows onto the table, resting your head on your hands.

‘the wonders? hm, i really can’t tell whether you’re being serious or not. guess you really are a dork.’

you giggle a little bit before you catch sight of peter looking like a gaping fish. you immediately slam your hands down, perhaps a little too loudly considering you’re in a library, and blurt out,

‘uh, I was.. joking! making a joke, in case, you know, that wasn’t obvious.’ You awkwardly hide your face between your fingers and squeak out a small apology

‘nO! no, no, don’t worry about it. yeah, I am a dork, so… yeah, i’m not offended, or anything. uh- just, yeah, don’t worry about it.’

well, that ruined the flow of conversation peter was so desperate to keep up with

none of you speak for a bit, opting to look around the very interesting library walls instead, until peter clears his throat and brings up motion physics again

yeah! this will be fine. all you have to focus on is science, and NOT peter’s very soft kissable lips and how good he looks in his light green coloured sweater

huh

oh no

 desperately attempting to clear your mind, you try and focus on what he’s saying instead

it’s just SCIENCE, y/n. focus on the SCIENCE.

this distraction just-concentrate-on-the-work technique works for about the next hour or so as you guys study and work on this project

everything is going great!

you two have an organised google doc full of research and a finished introduction! you’re being extremely productive!

both of you are doing an amazing job at hiding your mutual (except none of you know it’s mutual) attraction!

so as you walk out the library beside peter some time later, you’re smiling softly, because even if your massive crush isn’t reciprocated, you and peter can maybe at least be friends by the end of this, right?

he didn’t even look like he detested you as much as usual today

maybe that’s because he was pretty much forced into cooperating with you because of this project, but you even caught him smiling at you today, so he must be warming up to you

which is great news, of course

peter swallows down his fear and the excessive amount of spit that is coating his tongue and turns to you

‘so, this was really fun’

you tilt your head, mildly horrified at his words

‘we need to stage you an intervention if a science project is something you classify as ‘fun’’

‘no, i mean, the science was kinda boring. spending time with you was really fun. ….right?’

oh good, he isn’t actually a complete monster who does science for fun

(he totally is but you don’t need to know that)

‘yeah! hanging out was really fun, even if we had to spend that time doing work’

you shudder and cringe when you mention ‘work’, because there are much more interesting things you’d rather be doing with peter

👀

‘yep.’

‘yeeep.’

‘so, we should meet up again to work on this… project. right?’ you’re shifting your weight and darting your eyes across the floor, desperately avoiding peter’s gaze.

‘yeah!!’

oof maybe that was a little too enthusiastic. maybe you didn’t notice?

‘i mean, yeah… yeah, totally. sounds… chill.’

oh god that’s worse isn’t it

‘great!’

cue awkward silence

‘so… um… can I maybe have your number?’

you stare blankly at him trying to conceal your excitement because did PETER PARKER just ask for YOUR number?!?!?!

oh no why aren’t you saying anything crapcrapcrap this is peter’s first time asking for ANYONE’S number did he mess up oh no he messed up didn’t he.

‘you know, for the project!!!!! haha!!!!’

oh. of course he wouldn’t actually want your number

*sigh these oblivious fucks I stg i’m the one who’s actually writing this and I want to throttle them*

‘oh… yeah, no problem! um, here’s my number’

‘cool! i’ll text you then!’

from peter p [12:48]

Hey y/n!! Um this is Peter btw. Peter Parker. From science class.

to peter p [12:49]

hey peter!

from peter p [12:49]

So if it’s cool w u do you want to meet up at my place? For the project haha, just figured a change of scenery might be nice. The library can get a little bit boring sometimes.

to peter p [12:49]

yeah sounds cool just send me ur address and i’ll be over after skl tdy if that’s ok

from peter p [12:50]

Yep awesome see u then

to peter p [12:50]

see u! :))

 that smiley face almost makes his heart burst god he’s so whipped for you.

then the panic kicks in.

‘OHMYGOD Y/N Y/L/N IS COMING OVER.’

peter spends like three hours making sure the apartment is SPOTLESS.

spends like half an hour trying to decide whether he should take down all the Star Wars memorabilia down from his walls

like, he doesn’t want you to think he’s a DORK.

(too late peter)

but then ultimately keeps them up, partly because shit you’re coming in like 5 minutes he doesn’t have time for this

but also, you’re a nice person! you surely won’t make fun of him for having a knockoff replica of the death star in his room.

hopefully

oh god if you make fun of him for being a Star Wars nerd he will break down in tears HE HAS TO TAKE THEM DOWN

*ding*

fuck

peter stands up from his spinney chair abruptly and scrambles towards front door.

he spent some time this morning with Aunt May for girl advice and nothing really came out of that except a very traumatizing safe sex talk and some teasing that he will never be able to erase from his memory.

he takes a fast detour and quickly stops in front of the bathroom mirror on his way to open the door, desperately trying to tame the mop of curls and his head.

did I put on deodorant this morning? crap I brushed my teeth right?

*ding*

FUCK

peter stops in front of the door, takes a deep breath and-

‘hey!’ a strangled greeting comes out of his throat but hopefully you don’t notice how nervous he is.

you don’t, because this is oblivious shit!reader

‘hi peter!’

peter is suddenly very aware of how long you have been standing outside.

‘oH! sorry, um come in!!’ he says, opening the door wider and welcoming you in with (overly?) enthusiastic arms.

‘yeah! make yourself at home and everything. you want a drink or something?’

‘water would be nice.’

peter sprints to the kitchen to get you some ICE COLD water in his favourite mug.

peter parker’s apartment is covered with cosy furniture and photos of him and another middle aged woman. half those photos are him and that woman smiling brightly into the camera.

there’s a photo that’s nicely framed above the mantle that shows a young peter beaming in front of a birthday cake, with that same woman and another unknown middle aged man smiling down at him. the photo is clearly old and crumpled, even with the frame around it.

peter looks so happy in that photo…

huh. baby peter is just as adorable as he is now.

you jump away from the photo when you hear his footsteps coming back into the living room. something about the photo seemed emotional, personal. it just didn’t seem like something you should be looking at.

peter comes back clutching two mugs and hands one to you.

‘nice place!’

‘oh, thanks… yeah my Aunt isn’t home right now, she’s downtown meeting some friends, so we have the place to ourselves……’

‘so we can study uninterrupted.’ he says.

oh of course, studying!! yep that’s exactly where your mind went when peter said the apartment was empty aHaH.

peter’s room is a little less adult than the rest of his apartment, flooded with polaroids of him and Ned, with Star Wars posters on the walls.

you ignore the pang of jealousy that you feel when you spot a photo of MJ and peter grinning in front of a bowling alley.

so for the next two hours you two are in peter’s room… studying vigorously.

you would be 100% lying if you said you weren’t disappointed only studying happened.

the weird thing is???

every time you would look down at your textbook to explain something about periodic motion peter seemed to be looking at you when you looked up?

well, looking at you isn’t very weird, looking at someone while they’re talking is just basic manners. but when you looked back he would snap his eyes straight back to his own textbook, nodding and wordlessly agreeing with whatever you had just said.

maybe it’s just your imagination but the way he looked at you, it’s almost a loving, caring gaze.

oh god who are you kidding, it’s just your brain and imagination playing tricks on you.

you’re alone with peter parker in his bedroom!! these things are going to happen!

‘hey you want to take a break? we’ve been going at this for a whole hour now.’ peter says, craning his neck to take a look at the clock on the wall.

‘has it really been a whole hour?’ you lean back in your chair looking up at the ceiling.

‘yeah okay. let’s have a small break then.’

peter picks up both of your mugs and heads off to the kitchen, groaning slightly when he stretches his legs out for the first time in an hour.

*a/n: apologies in advance to those with nut allergies*

he comes back with both your mugs refilled with (water for you, gatorade for peter) and a small bag of almonds for you to snack on.

‘oh hey! almonds are my study snack of choice too!’

‘yeah, i know’ peter says carelessly, scrolling down his phone.

‘i don’t like almonds all that much, but i bought a few packs this morning on the way to school.’

hm,, wHat

‘if… you don’t like almonds why would you get them for me?’

‘because you like almonds.’

blink.

b l i n k

it takes a bit of time for peter to realise what just came out of his mouth.

‘i meAn! I’M NOT A STALKER I SWEAR. i just see you at school sometimes and you always have a small pack of these to snack on whenever you’re doing work so i thought,, you know, since we’re doing WORK, i should buy some for you… so you won’t get hungry!!!’ he’s wailing nonsensical excuses and apologies by now.

huh.

peter parker knows that you snack on almonds when you study, and bought a pack for you even though he doesn’t like them at all.

maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as you thought.

you tear apart the packaging and stuff an almond in your mouth, your traitorous lips slowly threatening to curl into a huge smile.

(despite how much you fight against it, you end up with a slightly demonic looking huge smile on your face, which you attempt to hide by stuffing more almonds in your mouth)

(you now look like a chipmunk)

(but a cute one!!!!)

meanwhile peter is trying to hide the feeling of humiliation by resting his face in his hands, because he literally just exposed himself. he will not be able to take it if he looks back up at your face and you’re laughing at him for this stupid crush.

to his surprise, he does not look up to find you mocking his love for you, but instead, he finds you with a mouth full of almonds, struggling to chew and swallow them all without looking like a disgusting fool.

oh.

that’s kinda cute.

after a good five minutes of you trying to force like 10 almonds down your esophagus,  you clear your throat and awkwardly blurt out a ‘thank you’

‘for the almonds! it’s cute how you bought them for me because you knew how much i like to snack on them while i study. that’s really sweet of you. i guess you really don’t hate me all that much, huh?’ the last sentence comes out teasingly, a playful smile gracing your lips, but instead of uwu-ing over your cute smile, peter’s just confused.

‘why would i hate you?’ he says, his eyebrows laced together in confusion.

‘well, i always kinda got the impression that you didn’t like me… all that much? i never really knew why. hey, why did you hate me so much before this? if i accidentally did something at the start of the year that pissed you off, i’m sorry.’

your playful smile fades a little bit as you see peter basically collapse on himself just due to sheer GRIEVANCE.

‘WHY WOULD YOU THINK I HATED YOU?’ peter yells out, probably annoying the neighbours with how fucking loud he is, but he can’t seem to bring himself to care right now.

‘you… didn’t?’ you say, now becoming just as confused as peter.

he shakes his head aggressively, bringing his fingers up to his temples.

‘but… you always seemed so jumpy around me! and you would never really talk to me, and that one time i asked you for a pencil, you looked like you were dying or something! i always just thought you didn’t like me!’

oh

my

god

peter doesn’t know whether he should be laughing or crying.

‘that’s not because I HATED YOU!! that’s because- i mean- i always thought-’ he’s still yelling and at this point one of the neighbours are definitely going to come knocking to complain, but peter still doesn’t care, because he’s currently having an existential crisis.

ohmygod all this time my CRUSH thought I HATED HER because I couldn’t function like a normal human being in front of her because of how much I liked her until i gave her some ALMONDS what is wrong with me? what kind of entity that controls the universe could hate me so much to pull THIS kind of sick prank on me?

‘wait if you didn’t hate me why would you always act so weird in front of me?’

‘BECAUSE-’ peter tangles his fingers into his hair, and he kicks his chair, sending it halfway across his room from frustration.

‘how could you possibly think I hated you??? how could you possibly think ANYONE could hate you??? you’re single handedly the only good person in this godforsaken school full of IDIOTS and BULLIES! nobody could ever hate you, y/n, and certainly not ME!’

perhaps he is using an excessive amount of hand gestures, but it gets his point across.

‘wha-? what do yo-?’

‘wHat are you TALKING ABOUT?’ you say, slowly turning just as frustrated as peter.

‘if there’s ANYONE that’s decent in this ‘godforsaken school full of idiots’ it would be YOU, peter parker!! nobody would just pay attention to what I EAT so I wouldn’t get HUNGRY during a study session oKaY!! you’re so CONFUSING! every time I accept the fact that you don’t like me back you pull this bullshit, essentially making me rethink ALL MY FEELINGS!’ you say, going through the room (stepping over the toppled chair), just to jab a finger onto peter’s chest.

suddenly both of you are aware of your flushed cheeks and your close proximity.

‘wha- WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?’ peter basically shrieks, and you would not be surprised if all of New York managed to hear that scream.

your cheeks darken as you awkwardly step back from him, realising that you accidentally outed yourself.

‘um- i mean,’ you stumble on the fallen chair as you desperately walk backwards with your hands behind your back to avoid peter’s piercing gaze.

*you’re not good at confrontation okay*

‘you like me?? wait wait, you like ME?’ you frown a little as you look at peter’s incredulous expression.

‘well yeah, you don’t have to rub it in like that, I know you don’t like me back.’ You mumble, looking away.

‘don’t like yo- OH MY GOD!’

this time peter stalks all the way across the room, looking you dead straight in the eye.

‘you better not be joking with me, y/n.’

you squeak out a small ‘no’ or something like that because you can’t really focus with peter looking down at you like that.

‘you mean to tell me, my stupid fat, nervous crush on you was mistaken for HATRED, and all this time I’ve been thinking I have no chance with you, but you’ve been crushing on me too all this time?’ his words come out jumbled, and a little fast, but you can decipher the general meaning.

peter parker likes you… too.

oh GOD WAT

he clears his throat, biting his lip and you can just tell he’s about to apologise, because peter’s a complete angel who probably doesn’t want you feeling uncomfortable.

‘um- uh, y- oomph!’

and in this shocking turn of events, you execute the only spontaneous thing you’ve ever done in your life and pray that it ends up well.

you lean forward and press your lips to peter’s, hoping to whatever superior being there is that this was a good decision.

spoiler alert: it was

peter.exe has shut down because all of a sudden your lips are against his and oh wow this is so much better than all those times he’s imagined it happening because it’s actually happening now.

your hands find their way to peter’s curls that he was trying so hard to get under control an hour ago but now he can’t remember why he doesn’t like his hair if it’s just going to be tugged on by you like this from now on.

he grabs you by the waist and pulls you closer to him, pretty much pressing his body against yours.

not that you’re complaining.

and god if peter died from suffocation right now that would be a heavenly way to go, and he would be a-ok with dying if it meant finally being in your arms.

you pull away from peter, both of you slightly panting before you burst out in giggles, resting your head and letting it fall on peter’s shoulder.

‘oh my god, we’re such idiots, aren’t we?’

peter hums in agreement before lifting your chin up to kiss you again.

 bonus: boyfriend! peter

definitely still stares at you in science class except now whenever you catch him staring he just shoots you a lazy grin

because yEa he has FULL RIGHTS to stare at you now because you’re his GIRLFRIEND.

you find out he’s spiderman pretty much immediately let’s be real this boy is not the best at hiding secrets

especially from his GIRLFRIENDS whomst he loves VERY MUCH.

this boy also gives you anxiety attacks whenever you see spiderman on the news saving people, getting hurt and shit, but he understands.

sends you a text before and after he gets in the suit whenever he can.

most certainly uses his spidey-powers for things they were not intended to be used for.

to visit his girlfriend so she can give him cuddles at any time why what were you guys thinking about hMmmMMMmmmM?

likes to show you off but also gets very blushy and shy about PDA

pretty much had a seizure the first time you held hands.

ned almost fainted when he heard the news (aka peter rushed to call him the second you left that night you kissed because these bitches are very gossipy)

peter parker is the ultimate clingy boyfriend.

……

and you love it.

your science teacher no longer puts you in the same group or partners you guys up now though.

because now you can’t study together, you literally can’t keep your hands off each other.

sometimes when peter is feeling ~particularly clingy he just nuzzles into the crook of your neck during lunch, and pulls you to him so you’re pretty much on his lap.

and MJ is just like yall r disgusTING

right in front of my salad.

in conclusion, peter parker loves you and you love him.

it’s honestly kind of sickening,

but you love that too.

[janetbrown711]

"Ah yes, i remember it so well! Uncle Yves was from Moscow, and Aunt Odessa too, and every spring-"

"-every spring, we would take picnics by the shore on sundays. Haven't you anything better to do?" The Dowager Empress Bentina Beakly waved off another phony girl pretending to be her beloved granddaughter.

"Oh my- alrighty dear. It's time to go now," Daisy gave an apologetic smile to the Empress and escorted the girl out of the room before closing the doors.

"No more," the empress whispered to herself.

"I must say, i am so incredibly sorry! I thought for sure she was real," Daisy apologized. "But rest assured, next time I will think of some really hard questions-"

"No." Beakly protested. Daisy sat down as Beakly stood up.

"My heart cannot take it anymore. I will not see any more girls pretending to be my Webbigail," she looked at a framed photo of the young girl and turned it down. Daisy went up to her.

"Are you sure?" She asked.

"Of course. She is probably long lost by now. No need to keep hopes up."

.o0o.

"What if Daisy doesn't recognize me?" Webby asked while riding in a car with Donald, Lena, and Louie.

"Of course she will- you're Webbigail," Louie blew it off.

"It's just that-"

"What?"

"Three days ago, i didn't have any past at all and now im trying to remember an entire lifetime," Webby groaned.

"That's why you got me," he winked as the car came to a stop. He got out and helped her on her way out too.

"Now stand up straight and remember your training," Louie reminded. Donald gave him a glance before knocking on the door of Daisy's house. A maid answered but a woman in a large pink dress moved her and hugged him tightly.

"Daisy!" Donald laughed and embraced her.

"My donnie! This is most unexpected," she smiled as she stepped back and gave him her hand to kiss. "Oh but do come in!" She led them all inside.

"May I present, her royal highness, the Grand Duchess Webbigail Nicolia Vanderquack," Donald presented her. Daisy examined her.

"She certainly does look like Webbigail..." she circled. "But so did many of the others."

"Where were you born?" She interrogated.

"At the Canard Palace," Webby answered without hesitation.

"How does Webbigail like her tea?"

"Oh, i don't like tea. Just hot water and lemon."

It went on like this for hours. Daisy asking an endless list of questions. Some were easier than others but Webby did get them all correct.

"Now... i know this question will like be impertinent but indulge me," Daisy said. Webby scooted to the very edge of her seat.

"How did you escape during the seige on the palace?"

Louie felt like his heart stopped. It was over. He resigned himself to the mantle of Daisy's fireplace. He never tested Webby on-

"There... there was a boy. A boy that worked in the palace. He opened a wall..."

Louie slowly lifted his head.

"Oh but that sounds silly. Walls opening," she laughed.

Louie looked at her. At Webby. At Webbigail.

"So... is she a Vanderquack?" Donald asked.

"Well, she answered every question," Daisy smiled.

"Haha! You hear that child?! You did it!!!" Donald hugged Webby, Daisy laughing and Lena barking in the corner as Louie slow excused himself from the room.

"So... when do we go and see the Empress?" Donald asked.

"Oh... i am afraid you can't," Daisy's smile fell.

"Come again?" Donald blinked.

"The Empress simply won't allow it," Daisy explained.

"Now Daisy, mi amore, surely you can think of something," Donald gave a smile. Daisy huffed.

"Please?" Donald begged.

"Do you like the Russian Ballet?" Daisy asked Webby. She nodded, feeling like a Grand Duchess would. "I believe they are performing in Paris tonight. The Dowager Empress and I love the Russian Ballet. We never miss it," she winked at Donald.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you Daisy," Donald kissed her.

"Anything for you my Donnie," she winked.

"I'll go tell Louie the fabulous news," Donald nodded and left, going outside and finding Louie looking troubled in Daisy's garden.

"Louie!! We did it!!" He cheered, "We are going to see the Imperial Highness tonight!!" He hugged his nephew and spun him around. Louie pushed his way free.

"We are going to get the 10 million dollars!!"

"Uncle Don-"

"We are going to be off!"

"Uncle Donald-"

"We are going to be rid of all of it!!" He exploaded into laughter which faded into a sense of freedom and relief.

"Uncle Donald... she is the princess," Louie half whispered.

"Webby was so extraordinary! I almost believed her! And Daisy!" Donald wasn't listening. Just then, Webby came out.

"Daisy wants to take us shopping for the ballet!! Shopping in Paris!!" she was excited.

"Ah... yes. Wonderful," Louie nodded.

"C'mon it'll be so fun!!" Webby grabbed his arms and dragged him off.

They spent the whole day in and out of shops, seeing the sights of Paris, and even going to see the dancers at the Moulin Rouge. The whole time Webby clung to Louie's arm like an excited puppy. But all Louie could do was look at her fondly yet sadly.

He knew she was the princess because he was the boy with the wall. He saved her life and was now returning her to her grandmother. Forever.

He would probably never see her again after that.

And dammit.

He was just starting to fall deeply in love.

"I'm telling you, we have nothing to worry about," Louie said to his anxious uncle as he paced outside the theater house. "She's the princess."

"I know, i know-"

"No. You don't." Louie snapped, standing up from his place on the steps. Donald looked at him.

"I was the boy. From the palace. Who opened the wall," Louie explained. Donald gasped.

"That's why you were the only one who..."

Survived

But Donald didn't have the heart to finish his sentence.

"And that's also why I know it's her," Louie grimaced.

"That means our Webby... has found her family," Donald smiled softly. "We have found the heir to the Russian throne." He placed a hand on his nephew's back.

"And... you..." his smile saddened.

"Will walk away, cut out of her life forever," Louie walked away, stone cold.

"But-"

"Princesses don't marry kitchen boys," Louie stopped his uncle from trying.

"I know but-"

"We are going to go through this like nothing has changed. Got it?" his voice was dark. Donald sighed.

"You have to tell her," Donald said.

"Tell me what?" Webby suddenly appeared behind them, wrapped up in a large and expensive coat, her eyes sparkling as much as the jewels on her neck. Louie removed his hat.

"How- uh- h-how... how beautiful you look," Louie couldn't hold back.

"Well... thank you," she smiled and held her arm out. Louie nodded and took it, escorting her in. Daisy followed not long after Webby and Donald escorted her in.

Once inside, Webby went up the stairs after giving a gentleman her coat when Louie finally caught a glimpse of her without the big coat.

The dress was dark blue, and shimmered like the night sky. Her gloves were long and silky, framing her arms in a near perfect way. Her choker necklace shone more than the dress, and the pearl earrings she wore made her look heavenly, and her long hair was wrapped perfectly in a bun. Boy, if he wasn't in love already...

"Louie?" She asked. Just then he realized his jaw was wide open and he shook himself out of it, running up the stairs to accompany her to her seat.

And soon, the ballet began.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

[letstalksymphogear]

Symphogear, EP.7 (Cont.)

“i have not now, nor ever, liked this creepy ass church elevator.”

“kanade please get out of my head, just because im hungry doesnt mean you have to tell me every time i am”

Hibiki finishes getting a full body X-ray. She’s fine.

“that anime protagonist immunity is really kicking in well!”

“by the way, your wife is here! and she’s looking mighty miffed., as opposed to me, mighty milfed.”

“you dont strike me as a mother figure but ill play along for now”

“i just hope miku’s okay...”

“oh, she’ll be fine! see, i’ve seen these kinds of plots before. big secret revealed, another lover is shown, the victim watches as they’re thoroughly cheated on, and they get to lik-”

“please stop breathing”

Genjuro’s wasting away again in Margaritaville. Looking for some daughter to adopt. SOME PEOPLE SAY THAT THERE’S A, WOOOOMAAAAAN TO BLAAAAAAAAAAME, BUT HE KNOWS

XYLOPHONE RIFF

THAT’S IT’S ALL HIS FAULT

XYLOPHONE RIFF

“i hate it when he gets like this. jimmy buffets not a good look for him.”

“for once you and i agree. seeing the commander sulk like this like a middle aged perma-tourist is genuinely miserable”

“hey homies! im back and i brought some bitches! oh, jesus, why does this place smell like mistakes in miami?”

“its me. im sorry. every time i feel like i failed as a dad, my anti-dad energies manifest. imagine every midlife crisis rolled up into a single ball, smacked into the face for eternity. thats the depth of my pain for failing this girl.”

In a moment of positivity, the friendship between Tsubasa and Hibiki is cemented.

> Tsubasa has joined the party.

“FRIENDSHIP!”

“fweindship.”

“uuuuhhhhh... dadship? yeah thats close enough.”

“WE’RE ALL GOOD FRIENDS!”

“ya tiddies are ringing again, better go get it”

Ryoko also points out that Hibiki’s relic is fusing with herself at an alarming rate. This is important to keep in mind.

Meanwhile, at night.

Miku is posing in the motherly “you done fucked up, where have you been young lady” position. A cold scolding is coming.

“.........................hey miku......”

“you can come in. are you worried im gonna bite? you suplexed a car. that shouldn’t be an issue anymore.”

“miku, i.... i wanted to tell you.... but.... the plot wouldn’t let me, miku....”

“should’ve told the plot to fuck off anyway. now you’re gonna live with that. you’re sleeping... on the bottom bunk.”

“b.... b..... b...... b.... b...... bottom bunk...?”

They slept separately that night. God, this is so stupid. All of this is so goddamned stupid. “I’m so mad at you even though you saved my life.” This is just so. AUGH. THIS IS DUMB. KANEKO WRITE BETTER ANGST THAT MAKES SENSE THAT ISN’T THIS.

Meanwhile, far away from this garbage...

Chris, having been evicted from Fine’s McMansion, wanders the streets of mumblemumble aimlessly. Don’t be fooled by her new fancy dress. Basically, she’s a combat-competent hobo.

“no food. no home. no victories. this sucks. whyd you do it, fine? we coulda been great together. but no. ya fired me. now i look like im prancing the red light district with a highly advanced superweapon around my neck.”

“no... hibiki’s to blame. ever since that genderbent little mac showed up to fight me, it’s been all downhill. fine thought me a laughstock because i couldnt take out her oversized boxing gloves, and now she beat me while i had nehushtan. god... i wish i never met that damn hamster faced chubby cheeked nerd.”

“wait, whats that crying”

Chris spies two kids talking to each other, one of them crying. Chris immediately makes an assumption, believing the big bro is bullying his sis.

“hey! stop nicking her lunch money, twerp”

Chris currently is a firm believer of corporeal punishment.

But the sister deflects the blow. Chris can’t even defeat children right now. Truly, this is a record low for her. You know you blew it when even kids are schooling you on basic morality. She then tells the little girl to stop crying, ironically mirroring her brother.

The infamous double T-Pose maneuver. Chris, you might as well get a shovel and start digging your own grave.

“i keep doing bad things badly, and now im doing good things badly... when fine said i was bad... did she just mean im not talented?”

Chris, finally, does a good thing and helps these kids find their parents.

“yeah. hibiki saved a kid when she got her gear. guess what? bam! im saving two! that’s fifty percent more kid per kid saved. take that, weirdo.”

The kids call her out on Chris singing unconsciously, and Chris gets flustered over it. Dawwwwww.

Chris manages to get them to safety to their Dad...

...while brutally lying about it, making Chris look like a predator. There’s a very crushing irony at play here, given who Chris used to serve.

“ugggggggggggggggghhhhhh hes not even gonna payyyyy meeeeeee why the fuck did i dooooo thiiiiiiissssss”

“hey, you know. you kids have a really nice relationship with one another. care to give me tips on how to be an empathetic human being capable of making friends?”

“maybe we’re born with it”

“maybe its maybeline”

“maybeline...”

Meanwhile...

A cold wind blows through Lydian Apartment 69-L. (I don’t actually know if that’s their room number, I just made it up.)

“jesus take the wheel, because i’m jumping out the passenger seat to save this current wreck of a relationship”

“miku please i saved your life, doesnt that count for anything”

“you already killed me the moment you lied. also im taking the bottom bunk so i dont have to see your face coming down the ladder.”

“miku you cant hide in this depression den forever. i know i hurt you and im sorry for it, but please understand i literally couldnt do it. you saw there were punches and violence and stuff... i didnt want you tied to that...”

“what was that? i cant hear your apologies over my incredibly loud snoring. SNOOOOOOORE. SNOOOOOOOORE. SNOOO- fuck, i just swallowed my spit, fuck”

“i hope this cocoon of displeasure you’ve made for yourself lets you erupt into a butterfly of acceptance so i can fly with you again.”

“......thats not fair. you cant say those beautiful metaphors and get away with it. let me be mad... sniff... let me be mad...”

Sadness wafts in the den of lies Hibiki has been forced into.

No music plays. There is only heartbreak, and woe.

In the midst of this pain...

Ryoko loredumps about how the Symphogears work and are immune to the noise on her blog, ‘hornyonmainforscience.org’, her hybrid science journal slash kink zone. It’s mostly a recap with some pretty good soft techno beats in it.

“i made a custom brew of red bull, five hour energy drink, coffee, and cream. i call it gamer girl piss.”

“damn. that’s some good piss.”

She muses about how Hibiki has managed to break the limitations of her Symphogear, making her a totally unique specimen. Wait, where have we heard this before...?

Hey... Ryoko... let’s just... cool it a bit with the Hibiki pictures... come on...

Ryoko touches upon the Custodians and the Curse of Babel. We ain’t touching that shit until later, because that’s another shitfuck box of crazy just ready to jump us in a dark alleyway to rob us of our wits.

Back to Lydian:

“miku whats the answer to the first three multiple choice questions”

“B. A. D.”

“oh, thanks. huh, BAD.”

“yeah. you are.”

“mmm. taste likes dissapointment. just like my life.”

“hey table for two haha get it cause there’s two chairs and miku for the love of god, please, forgive me”

“ive surgically removed my eyes and drew eyelashes over them with sharpie so i dont have to see your bird bangs.”

“thats very rude to both me and my hair. also, wig.”

Even Hibiki’s meal is judging her. Mainly for not eating it. Fucking look at this. God, that looks amazing. Fuck, why did I write this while I was hungry.

“miku you cant do this forever. i might die and youll end up crying on my tombstone going ‘oh god, why, oh god’, and really, i cant live with myself if that happens. mainly because id already be dead by then”

The Anime Janai crew show up to break some icebergs with a goddamn sledgehammer. As the self-aware Gods of this realm, they got very tired of this poor display of angst, and have decided to directly intervene.

Nevermind. They came for her kneecaps, and they most certainly got them.

PLEASE. I’M BEGGING YOU. END THIS GARBAGE PLOT THREAD.

“look. imma lay down the facts. yall are gay. yall are in love. yall are angry for the wrong reasons. its nobody’s fault here but the writer. so please kiss and make up. pretty please.”

“kaneko... you fool... we all know what the original sin is. its your hack writing making this stupidity in the first place. let the pencil go, asshole!”

They bring up the fact that Hibiki isn’t doing her work and wonder if she has a job on the side, which isn’t allowed by the school. Miku gets annoyed and bails, with Hibiki running after her. Unfortunately, Miku runs faster...

“oh god miku not the rooftop whatever you’re thinking just dont do it! please!”

“no. i came here to angst, since this is the Maximum Angst Zone.”

“i..... okay! okay, that’s fair! rooftops are the perfect place to look sad while getting proper air ventilation, thats fine”

It really would have been better played if it was played off that she felt hurt not because of the lie, but because she felt like she could have helped her better having known the truth, and it being a self-loathing sort of scenario for not being there better for her and not fully understanding the risk at play.

But no, instead, we get this.

Absolutely obliterated. A heart ripped, shredded, and sent to the Shadow Realm.

The episode ends on that note, but has a post credit scene.

Naked. On an old timey telephone. On a computer. Wearing stockings and long gloves.

The main antagonist of the series, everybody.

She’s talking the best English possible to some random-ass American when suddenly bursting through the scene is none other than:

“I WANT WORKERS COMPENSATION YOU BITCH, BEFORE I UNIONIZE YOUR NAKED ASS”

“AND I WANT A GOOD REFERNECE FOR MY FUTURE EMPLOYER, AND ALSO A SEVERANCE PACKAGE SINCE I’M FUCKING HOMELESS”

“i paint my eyelashes with mascara made from the tar of freshly carbonated corpses manufactured through noise, what on gods green earth compels you to think id give a rats ass about you?”

“so you never cared, huh! you’re just a nasty naked hedonist trying to- trying to- what the fuck are you even trying to do?!”

“i want to live the dream every spicy little fossil like me yearns for.”

“I WANNA FUCK GOD!”

“how- what? what? how do you even- what? are you- do you want to be the pope? is that it? does the pope get to fuck god? are you- is this a larping thing? you’ve really been into larping lately! i don’t like this!”

“youve never read the old testament, have you. ass out, pussy bare, hips up and barefoot. that’s how god’s always liked it.”

“now get lost, punk. you tipped off my hand to genjuro and now you being here is going to ruin everything. if you still feel any semblance of devotion, eat one of your own bullets and call it a day.”

“it’s 2012 bitch, if the mayans dont get you, I WILL”

“what god gives, He takes away, and so do i. i built you from the ground up. your relic, which was good for jack shit on you. the nehushtan, which you failed to do anything with except zap a couple hundred people. stop wars? you’re a walking war, waged by me, for me. and your cartridge has just run out of bullets.”

“uh oh! hand’s acting up again! better bail before i send you back to smacktown where all the bitter little shittalkers like you strut around spending their lives being useless as hell.”

“ah fuck, im not dealing with no manos: the hands of fate bullshit again”

“and guess what else i got on motherfucker”

“i see the union efforts have officially been busted. understandable, have a nice day ma’am”

“LEAVE.”

“I’M GOING, I’M GOING”

[thesealishere]

Angus the Survival Hunter X Reader: The Rose Series

Orange roses: Fascination, Enthusiasm, Desire

[Y/N] sat on the couch, constantly checking the clock. He was late. Of course, airport traffic was always terrible, and it was also possible they’d lost his luggage or something… The list of things that could be holding him back was just about a mile long and that only made things worse. They let out a sigh and began to rearrange the orange roses that sat in the vase on the table in front of them. He’d been gone for months and they guessed an extra hour or two couldn’t be all that bad.

It had felt like forever before they finally heard the sound of a key turning in the door, their head perked up and they looked over just in time to see Angus walking in.

“I’m home! Sorry I’m late you wouldn’t believe- oof!” He began to call in but was quickly cut off by [Y/N] nearly tackling him. “I guess, you missed me huh?” He laughed, dropping his bag so he could wrap his arms around them.

“Three months, of only being able to communicate by letters, of course I missed you.” They said, resting their head on his shoulder.

“I know, I’m sorry Love.” He spoke, gently rubbing circles into their back and resting his head on top of theirs. “But I’ve got good news for ya this time!”

“What’s that?”

“I’m not leaving again for a couple a months and during that time, I’m all yours.” He told them, laughing again as he felt them hug him tighter. “Are ya gonna let me go anytime soon or are we just gonna stay like this the whole time?” He asked.

“Like this.”

“Well, it’s sure gonna be hard to sleep standing, also those pretty flowers over there will die.”

“Oh right!” They quickly let go of Angus and spun around to look at the roses, they’d actually forgotten about those. “I bought these for you. I thought you’d like them cause-“

“They represent fascination and enthusiasm, right?” He asked, walking over to the table and looking the flowers over. “And desire too if I remember correctly.” He added quickly with a small wink, grinning as he watched them flush.

“That is- That is not what I was thinking when I got those.” They stuttered out, looking away form him before clearing their throat. “Do you like them?”

“I love them! Suit me perfectly don’t ya think?”

“Well, with the meaning of fascination and enthusiasm yeah.” [Y/N] looked back to him with a smile. “You certainly have enough of both, they’re two of the many things I love about you.”

“Awwww, now you’re being sweet on me.” Angus laughed, walking back over to them and loosely wrapping his arms around their waist. “Ya know, I find you fascinatin’. Maybe after I unpack, we can go out and see what I can learn from you.”

“You’re pickup lines are still just as horrible as always I see.” They laughed, making him scoff and feign a hurt expression.

“Oi, I had to really think about that one. If you don’t start appreciatin’ the work I put into those pick-up lines, I’m gonna just have to stop them all together.” He removed one of his arms from their waist just to wag his finger at them, but they just swatted it away.

“I can only hope.” They teased, placing a kiss on his nose. “Now go unpack mister, you’ve already made me wait an extra hour for you.”

“Oh, getting bossy now huh?” He laughed as they stepped back from him.

“Only when you make me wait and there’s food involved.”

“Sounds about right.” He said with a small nod, before turning around and snagging one of the roses from the vase, inspecting it before nodding in approval and taking it with him.

“Why’d you do that?” [Y/N] asked with a frown as he walked past them.

“I’m gonna try and press it, that way I can keep it with me when I travel and have a piece of you with me even when I’m a world away.” He spoke with a thoughtful look and [Y/N] could feel their face starting to heat up again.

“I uh… Right. I um, I like the sound of that.” Their head perked up suddenly as they had an idea, turning and walking to the table to grab another rose from the vase to give to him. “You think you could try and press two of them?”

Angus looked down at the second rose and took it without a second thought. It would be like a link between them when he was gone when he would look at the rose and think of them, they could do the same.

“Of course, I can.” He said, kissing their forehead before picking up his bag with his free hand to take to their room.

“By the way, Angus…” [Y/N] said to get his attention before he disappeared down the hallway. “I have a confession to make.” They sighed, rubbing the back of their neck.

“And what’s that Love?”

“I actually didn’t know what the roses meant. I just bought them because I thought they were really cool looking.” They admitted.

“…Really?”

“Yep, I had no idea they meant that. Sort of a happy accident really.” They shrugged with a laugh.

“Well, you still picked great and I still love them. Now, I should really get this unpacking done before you get too hungry. I know better than to deal with a ravenous wild animal.” He said, turning to walk away again.

“Hey!” They shouted, watching him quickly starting to sprint and hearing a muffled “Love you!” after the door to their bedroom was slammed shut. “You’re lucky I love you…” They muttered to themselves with a smile.

~~~~~~~~

I didn’t really try to do the accent too much on this one, I tried to look something up like I did with the German accent but couldn’t really find anything... Anyway! Here I’m picturing that the reader and Angus have been together a rather long time. Plus I figured that of course the Survival Hunter would know all about plant meaning and such, so why not have the reader be clueless for once? Haha! Anyway, as always I accept any and all feed back, I hope you enjoyed the blurb and thank you for reading!

~Seal~

[urbanjohnny]

36 & 59... Im testing your angst ability naomi ehehee ʘ ͜ʖ ʘ with taeyong

↳ “I’m tired of being your secret.” || “Don’t say you love me.”

✗ gif credit: neotechs

✗ pairing: taeyong x reader

✗ genre: angst x superstar!taeyong

✗ word count: 1.8k

✗ author’s note: i’m sweating as i upload this. i hope i’ve met your expectations for with this angst haha. also @honeytaeyong happy belated birthday! think of this as a small present i really enjoy writing celebrities/rich people for some reason. what i mean by this au is pretty much taeyong isn’t in nct and he’s instead a solo star who is well rounded in his abilities.

Lee Taeyong was the envy of many. Monthly red-carpet appearances,weekly interviews on morning talk shows, and photo shoots in exotic locations.Designer clothes hand-tailored and delivered to his front door, private loungesfilled with a plethora of expensive liquor, and endless access to an array ofluxurious automobiles and private jets.

Men aspired to live the life he lived and women aspired to live in his life. They all longed to meet thefamous man who turned heads on runways, wooed audiences on the big screen, andperformed on stage to thousands of screaming fans. Lee Taeyong was well-versedin modeling, acting, and singing. He was a global superstar and no one couldargue against that statement.

Yet, there was one aspect of his life that intrigued everyone:where was the girl? Where was his princess, his queen, his true love? For thepast three years there had been rumors and sightings, but no confirmations, noheadlines, and no statements. For someone whose parents were constantlydiscussing possible choices for their son, it was surprising he had yet to findsomeone.

Every red carpet event was done solo and, every intrusive questionthat arose in an interview, Taeyong would smile and simply say he had yet tofind the one.

Though that was not the complete truth.

It was another regular night for Taeyong. Another tailored Armanisuit, a silver Rolex on his wrist, and freshly polished shoes fromFerragamo. His stylists applied a thin layer of makeup upon his face andslicked his freshly washed hair to perfection. After one last check, he wouldhop into a black SUV, ready to appear before the eyes of the media and hisdedicated fansites all lined up in front of the red carpet.

The evening was beautiful, almost enchanting with the glimmeringlights angled perfectly above the scarlet path before him. As he descended fromhis glossy onyx vehicle, he was greeted by an eruption of screams from thecrowd. He appeased their enthusiasm with a charming smile and an appreciativewave. His bright eyes scanned the venue, noticing the different groups, from theA-listers, to the bloodthirsty reporters, and his beloved fans. Taeyong offeredwarm smiles as he walked down the trail, bowing respectfully to his colleaguesand directors. 

He embraced Jung Jaehyun, a longtime friend, and shook hands withhis senior and mentor, Kim Junmyeon. The trio sauntered towards the blindingcameras and posed for photographs for the press.

Although the three leading men could steal the floor right thenand there, there was one more face everyone was waiting for. Her entrance was signaledby the burst of cheers and calls from the audience as she exited her ownlimousine.

Jung Jiwoo had arrived looking breathtakingly beautiful, which wasno surprise. Ever since she was a child, she has been renowned solely for heracting skills. Through the years, she had blossomed into a magnificent younglady, taking on more mature roles and continuously gracing the silver screenwith her talent.

She moved along the carpet so gracefully, as if she was driftingin the clouds, her cream gown trailing effortlessly behind her. Her brown hairfell in soft swirls over her shoulder and the diamonds hanging on her earsilluminated her eyes. If her beauty wasn’t enough of a shocker, the way shefloated directly to Taeyong and lovingly snaked her arm through his hadcertainly caught everyone off-guard. They were, after all, a couple on screen,but far from romantically entangled outside of it.

Lips pressed together, eyes narrowed, and nostrils flared. Yourfinger firmly stabbed the off button to the television as you threw theremote onto the marble coffee table. A large huff of disappointment escapedyour lips, followed by a scream that pierced through the air. You stood uprather quickly, hitting your knee against the cool stone which made you yelp inpain. You were mad before, but now you were furious.The feelings of betrayal and regret filling your already bitter heart, yetthere was nothing you could do about it.

How could someone like you expect so much of someone like Taeyong,your boyfriend of nearly three years? He had promised you the world, yet hereyou sat alone in your dark living room, the muted glow of the city behind you.

You could still remember the day he passed you his number duringone of his music video shoots, the beginning of ceaseless conversations. Thelove affair continued for months after, leading to midnight rendezvous at eachother’s condos and secret getaways to foreign destinations.

Taeyong had promised a year into the relationship that he wouldreveal you to the world, yet he had never lived up to his words and kept youhidden away. In your eyes, you were locked in a dungeon.

Tears began to spill as you turned on the monitor again, thecamera now up close to both Taeyong and Jiwoo. Jiwoo held a look of lust as shestared at Taeyong, but Taeyong viewed her apathetically. However, the audiencewere blinded by rumors and their longing for drama, easily falling into theruse they had planned to spur on movie promotions.

What a bitch, you thought as youwitnessed Jiwoo place a hand gently upon Taeyong’s chest. He could have removedher hand, but of course he was being polite and continuing for the photos.

Oh, how I wish I could strangle her, was another thought that came to mind. You did not think thenight could get any worse, but you were proven wrong when Jiwoo continued herphysical contact with Taeyong yet to halt her actions. Fine Taeyong, if youwant to act like this, then go ahead. You clenched your jaw, eyes sharplike daggers as you turned the television off, before you stalked off towardsyour shared bedroom.

Taeyong entered the condo, surprised by how silent it was withonly the entrance lights illuminating the place. He cocked his head, curious towhy his girlfriend was nowhere in sight. She had said she would be staying hometo watch the awards and catch up on work, but Taeyong wondered if she haddecided to go out.

He padded softly towards the bedroom, careful not to make anynoises, just in case Y/N was sleeping. He carefully pressed the door handledown, a sigh of relief releasing as he saw her figure curled up in bed, thesmall bedside light still on, yet dimmed.

Taeyong made his way over, sitting at the side of the bed,planting a kiss upon your forehead. You stirred at the gesture, lazily openingyour eyes to see your boyfriend staring at you with tender eyes.

You spoke softly, “Did you just get home?” You reached for hishand, squeezing it tightly.

He nodded with a small smile, “Have you been asleep for long?”

“I went to bed a few hours ago.” You did not hide your expressionof annoyance.

Taeyong raised a brow, curious. “Did you catch the awards? Ididn’t receive any texts after I won.” He frowned, now wondering if you wereangry with him. “Did something happen?”

“Taeyong,” you began. You were in no mood to speak with caution.“What happened to your promise?”

Taeyong paused, his expression blank as he pondered over yourquestion. He had no recollection of his promises, other than promising to getyou a new speaker after he had broken yours.

You sat up, placing a hand on his arm, your face now expressingdisappointment. “Taeyong, I’m tired of beingyour secret.” Water welled in your eyes, tears so sudden from onestatement. “I’m tired of having to watch you by yourself on the red carpet orcozying up to actresses that are clueless to the fact I’m yours.”

“Y/N, is that why you’re mad? Jiwoo was just—”

You raised a hand to cut him off. “Taeyong, Jiwoo was not beingfriendly, if anything she was ready to fuck you right then and there.”

Taeyong opened his mouth, but you had no intention of letting himspeak.

“Taeyong, you had every chance to stop her and yet you didn’t. Youhad every chance to reveal me to the world and yet you haven’t.” Tears were nowcascading down your face. “I’ve been stuck behind the scenes for three years,Taeyong. What are you so afraid of? Approval, hate? What? What is it?”

He let out a sigh as you turned away, not bothering to acknowledgehim. “Y/N, I just want to protect you and you know that.”

You laughed in response, disbelief written upon your face. “That’sbullshit, Taeyong. Protect me from what? Your fans? Your company? Which is it?”

Taeyong’s voice was soft as he spoke, “I’m not sure anymore.”

“Do you even love me anymore or am I just someone on the side youuse for pleasure and comfort?”

He abruptly stood up, taking your hands in his. His face heldanger from your words, but you only looked back with the same sentiment. “I dolove you, Y/N. I love you so much!” his desperate pleas echoed throughout thecondo.

You threw his hands to the side, jumping up to push him away. “Don’t say you love me! Don’t say you love mewhen you can’t even tell the world!” You pushed him again, causing him tostumble back into the window.

He gripped your arms, steadying you. “I do care about you.”

You shook off his grip, immediately pounding a fist againstTaeyong’s chest. “If you care about me, you would have given zero fucks.” Youlooked him in the eye with a look of hate and sadness. “Taeyong, I’m sufferinghiding in the shadows.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“You’re not.” Your voice was stern, sure.

“Let me make it up to you. What do you want? A trip to Thailand? AValentino bag? I’ll give you whatever and I’ll promise to reveal ourrelationship.”

You let out an exasperated breath, “I don’t want your money oryour promises anymore.” You turned away, slowly climbing back into bed. “I wantyou to take your Rolex and your Armani and your fake promises and get the fuckout of the house.”

“But Y/N.”

You settled deeper under the covers, staring straight. “You mustbe ashamed of me. Is that what it is?”

Taeyong stood in front of you, face now showing signs of regret.“Y/N, why would I be ashamed of you?”

You brought your eyes to his, your lips pressed into thin line.“I’m not sure, Taeyong, but that’s something for you to think about.” You hitthe light switch, throwing the room into darkness. “Goodnight Taeyong. Sleepwell.”

He watched you drift to sleep, a feeling of remorse buildinginside of him. Taeyong dragged himself towards the bedroom door, looking backone last time at your peaceful figure with gloomy eyes, before he made his wayto the front door.

As he shut the door behind him he collapsed onto the cold tiles, asingle tear falling his eye, staining his once crisp ivory shirt. It was atthat moment he knew he had lost the one he loved most. 

[roseymoseyberry]

Clever Lines (one-shot)

I realized the other day that it had been three months since I last posted a fic about my otp, and that’s a crime. Also I’ve been getting the itch to write them anyway so it was just a matter of time.

But this time the old husbands are young singles meeting and flirting, because I love thinking about their little pre-war friend group plus Jazz, because if anything can make the pre-war friend group better, it’s Jazz.

I’m absolutely slipping in that Party Ambulance headcanon here, and I know we all love small and sweet Orion Pax, but I am personally even more in love with tall and lanky Orion Pax who is wildly proactive and never afraid to speak his mind, but appropriately polite as he does. I mean, come on. He went out of his way to track down and befriend gladiators. He’s a brave little archivist.

Also this is inspired by an A Softer World strip oops. The specific line has been altered to make it more conversational but you’ll know it when you see it.

Title: Clever Lines

Series: Transformers Prime with a little inspo from Aligned as a whole (aka Jazz haha)

Ship(s): Orion Pax/Ratchet with a huge smattering of Jazz&Ratchet friendship

Rating/warnings: PG-13 for alcohol, references to fighting and fragging, some intoxicated kissing, and just a lot of Ratchet worrying too much

“Oh scrap,” Ratchet hissed as he spun on his pede. He blindly reached out towards Jazz, grabbing him by the closest edge of armor he could get his digits around to pull him towards the same direction he was facing.

“The frag, Ratch--?”

“Just act casual and don’t look over there!”

Jazz huffed as he settled next to Ratchet, crossing one arm over his chest while the other brought his drink to his lips for a slow sip, before replying, “Well, that’d go better if we weren’t staring at a wall, but I guess I’ll make it work.”

Ratchet’s engine grumbled but he had to admit that this was far less conspicuous than he had hoped for. He could blame the high grade for the sheer lack of spatial awareness that brought him here, and that was true, but he was pretty sure blind panic had a big part.

“Ok, fine. We can turn towards each other.”

“But I was starting to enjoy the view,” Jazz deadpanned, as if Ratchet couldn’t read the way his visor flickered with humor. Still, he dutifully twisted and leaned his shoulder against the wall, all grace and casual confidence. Ratchet was sure he wasn’t nearly so convincing, never mind that he had never had his drinking companion’s grace, but he did his best with what he had.

Jazz had the handsome frame of a nimble dancer and the Unmaker’s smile to charm his way around the city. Ratchet, on the other hand, had neither, and had instead learned to utilize the bulk of his frame and the boldness of his personality to make his way through crowds and into mecha’s sparks when he cared to.

They had both made their individual marks on the party scene before they had finally crossed paths all those years ago. The night that the Party Ambulance and the famously infamous Jazz met was the night they got completely sloshed and argued, danced, brawled, and fragged each other well into the next morning. When they woke up sprawled across a berth neither of them recognized, they both came to the conclusion that they were best friends.

The fact that Ratchet’s partying nights were fewer and further between now, not to mention far from the wildness of those years, hadn’t kept him and Jazz from being inseparable when Ratchet wasn’t waist-deep in finishing medical school. Ratchet was beginning to suspect that Jazz was using him as an excuse to pull himself back a bit as well, but he wasn’t about to complain.

Jazz was an incredible friend.

And that was why he gave Ratchet the dignity of not immediately looking out into the crowd to try to find the mech who had Ratchet in a tizzy and no doubt giving them away. Instead Jazz held Ratchet’s gaze and asked, “So, who walked in that you’re so desperate to avoid?”

Ratchet grimaced and took a large gulp of his high grade.

“Have I ever mentioned that one archivist?”

“The snarky one you nearly started a physical fight with when he said he couldn’t find that article you needed because they were closing in ten minutes?” Jazz replied with ease, because of course, the mech was like a sponge for any information he thought might be important or embarrassing later.

“No, not him--”

“Then the cute one who volunteered to help you find the article anyway and then spent the rest of the night at some café with you so you could use his access to the digital archives and finish your papers on time?”

Ratchet felt embarrassed heat spread up his neck and into his face. It hadn’t been his proudest moment, but having three papers due the same day had left him with little dignity and endless gratitude towards that archivist. He still wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that the archivist had also been unfairly attractive and that they had actually gotten along well enough that the last couple hours at the café had actually just been chatting, admittedly a little deliriously on Ratchet’s half.

At the very least it made it more embarrassing.

“That’s the one.”

Jazz’s visor brightened with interest as his mouth started to curl around the lip of his cube, clearly enjoying Ratchet’s flustered expression more than his drink.

“Orion Pax, right?”

“Of course you’d remember,” Ratchet grumbled, receiving a snicker in response.

“Never forget a name or a face. Speaking of--”

“Don’t look!”

“Relax. I can be subtle,” Jazz reassured, lifting his drink to his mouth again so he could tap his pointer digit against the side of his visor. “Let me do a little bit of espionage to soothe your overcharged spark.”

“As if you haven’t gone drink for drink with me.” Still, after a moment, Ratchet sighed. “A helm taller than me but he’s lanky, all legs--”

“Lanky? You usually like ‘em--”

“Focus, Jazz. Yes, he’s lanky. Red and blue paintjob, and he’s got—he’s got this crest on his forehelm along with audial finials on the sides--”

“Got ‘im,” Jazz said. His helm tilted slightly. “No kidding about lanky though. Course, with that face and those legs? Can’t argue there.”

Ratchet would swear he could feel a processor ache coming on.

“What is he doing, Jazz?”

“He’s getting a drink.”

“Really?”

Jazz’s brows didn’t need to be visible for him to give a withering look.

“Do I need to remind you we’re at a bar.”

Ratchet grimaced but pushed on, “He just doesn’t seem the type. More of a ‘fun night out is a night in’ type.”

Jazz snorted, replying, “You really are going soft if a nerd like that has you wound up tighter than a turborabbit in heat. That why you flipped your lid? Worried about him finding out about the Party Ambulance that comes out when the sun sets and your papers are finished?”

Ratchet glowered at him, turning his helm to look away before realizing his folly. He was now looking out into the crowded bar and by the Allspark, there was Orion across the way. The archivist’s back was towards them though as he chatted with the bartender, and—

“Who the frag is that?”

Jazz whistled as, on top of the one gigantic mech at Orion’s side that Ratchet was talking about, yet another mech sidled up to Orion’s other side and took a drink that Orion handed to him.

“Well, I can officially say you don’t gotta worry ‘bout your little secrets, because he’s hanging with folks who’re shadier than you ever were, Ratch.”

The first mech was enormous – a little over a helm taller than Orion and far broader with heavy looking silver armor. There was at least one large healing weld across their back that Ratchet could see from the distance. The other mech was shorter, but their build was still sturdy, certainly one built to withstand a fight. And when they turned their helm, their face was completely covered with a visor.

A visor that Ratchet would swear glinted, as if they had met optics.

Ratchet immediately looked away, turning to Jazz to find his friend still zeroed in on Orion and his companions.

“You know them?”

Jazz’s lips curled into a smirk.

“Like I said, I never forget a name or a face,” he replied. “You never did get into going to the Pits, did ya?”

Ratchet’s brows furrowed. “You mean gladiator fights? Course not. I see more than my fair share of spilt energon as it is, thank you very much. Why?”

“No reason,” Jazz lied before throwing his helm back and starting to chug his drink.

Ratchet watched him with narrowed optics before his high grade-addled processor put it together.

“No. No. There’s no way that those two are gladiators. What would Orion be doing with ruffians like that?”

With one last gulp, Jazz finished his drink and grinned at Ratchet.

“Like you’re one to talk. Now stop worrying,” Jazz insisted as he tipped the empty cube towards Ratchet, “and finish your drink.”

Ratchet’s drink was still at least half full, never mind the fact that he was beginning to suspect what Jazz had planned.

“Oh no. Don’t you dare,” Ratchet hissed, nudging Jazz’s shoulder with the servo holding his drink as he leaned in. “I have this under control without you forcing your way in as my wing-mech.”

“Gonna go back to your staring contest with the wall?” Jazz teased, his grin full of too many dentae when that was enough to have Ratchet’s face twist with flustered indignation. “Come on. Finish your drink and let me get the ball rolling.”

“I don’t need you to--!”

“If you don’t finish that drink,” Jazz warned as quicker than Ratchet could track, the cube was plucked from his digits, “then I’ll finish it for you. It’s up to you how much liquid courage you want in you once I’ve done my magic.”

Ratchet shot Jazz a look and his engine growled, but he still took the cube back and chugged it.

And then once it was empty it was in Jazz’s grasp again.

“I’ll just get us another round,” Jazz purred as he pushed off the wall. “Don’t miss me too much.”

And then he slipped into the crowd. Jazz had a nearly supernatural ability to find his way through the busiest of bars quickly, so it wasn’t long before he had found a place at the bar next to the mech with the visor. Whoever they were, they weren’t surprised to see Jazz. Or Ratchet didn’t think they were, but he couldn’t really tell because of said visor.

Orion though startled, and then—

And then he turned and looked in Ratchet’s direction.

Their gazes met and Ratchet would have sworn his spark stopped right then and there. Orion’s optics were bright and without a doubt focused on his, though he looked unsurprised to see Ratchet at least. In fact, Orion smiled, small and too sweet, and Ratchet had no idea how to react to that. Ratchet knew how to flirt with mecha like himself – mecha who drank too much and got into too many fights and wanted to just escape life for those brief hours spent on a dance floor before jumping right back in thrice as hard. If the mech even three stools over from Orion had caught his attention, it would have been easy to throw them a wink, to stroll over and drop a line.

The Party Ambulance knew how to flirt.

The medical student with a crush on an archivist he had once shared energon with while talking about archival organizational systems and favorite cities and plans for the next couple of years?

He had no fragging idea.

Before Ratchet could think about it, his servo lifted and gave a small wave.

A wave.

Jazz would never let him live that down.

Before Orion had an opportunity to react to that, the large grey mech beside him grabbed his attention, leaving Ratchet to just awkwardly stand by the wall while he watched the scene across the way. Something was being placed in Orion’s servos and Jazz leaned past the visored mech to say something to him.

Primus. Ratchet was regretting not being more forceful about keeping his drink because at least it would have given him something to do. Instead all he could do was fight the urge to squirm, wondering if it wouldn’t just be better to go over and face the embarrassment he had made of himself face-on.

But then Orion was turning, glancing up at the grey mech for one last exchange, and then he was making his way through the crowd.

Towards Ratchet.

Ratchet could only stand there in a mixture of trepidation and idiotic hope as he watched Orion’s progress. It certainly took him longer than it had Jazz who now seemed more than happy to lounge against the bar to chat with Orion’s companions, though his visor was no doubt hiding a gaze that was squarely on Ratchet.

And then there Orion was.

His smile was still small but sincere and each of his servos held a cube of high grade.

“Hello, Ratchet,” Orion greeted as he stepped closer, the volume of his voice just loud enough to be heard over the mild din of the bar. Still though, it didn’t sound strained or at all tinged by any of the awkwardness that Ratchet felt consumed by. Orion lifted one of the cubes in invitation. “Your friend told me you were in need of a drink.”

That slagger.

Ratchet grasped that kernel of irritation and held on tight to pull himself out of his fluster.

“Better not have let him convince you to buy it. Jazz is damned good at getting other mecha to pay for his drinks,” Ratchet replied as he took the cube. Somehow though that just made Orion’s lips curl more which in turn made Ratchet’s spark flutter.

“I’ll admit that I didn’t take much convincing.”

“Too easy,” Ratchet teased as he took a sip. It was a sweeter mix than he was used to – delicious for certain but lighter on engex content than Ratchet would let himself spend shanix on. “It’s good.” After a beat Ratchet quickly added, “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Ratchet couldn’t hold Orion’s gaze for long, not when he had no idea what Jazz had told him or what to even do with himself. Ratchet was caught between acting friendly like he had when they had met and acting flirty like he would with any other mech he was attracted to, not sure which was the better option with a mech like Orion. So somehow Ratchet ended up just blurting out, “So, you come here often?”

If Jazz wasn’t quick about it, Ratchet was going to kill himself over that cliché line before Jazz ever got the chance.

Orion’s expression wavered, slightly frowning, and this one was definitely a record for how quickly Ratchet had fragged up—

“No, I must admit that I actually came specifically to see you.”

Ratchet’s optics widened as they snapped up to Orion’s face and he reset his audials.

“What?”

Orion was now the one to glance away, looking a bit abashed. “It was pure chance that I was in the medical section that day since I don’t work on the public side of the archives often so I was unsure that we would ever happen to cross paths again, and one of my friends has a particular talent for finding mecha so I—I asked him for a favor.”

Ratchet couldn’t help looking over at the two gladiators – how had this darling archivist found himself friends with mecha like that? – before returning to Orion, who was now looking down at him, concerned optics searching him for a reaction.

And that’s when it had really set in. Orion had wanted to see him again, and instead of simply hoping to cross paths, Orion had someone find Ratchet so they could make sure they met again. And on top of that, he was worried that Ratchet would react badly to that fact. However, Ratchet couldn’t help being impressed and, quite frankly, flattered. His sparkrate picked up and his face heated and oh was that glimmer of hope getting brighter.

“Well,” Ratchet said, tipping his cube towards Orion with an embarrassed chuckle, “you managed to find me despite my best efforts.”

“Did you not want to be found?” Optimus asked, concerned still, and it was cute. It could have been the high grade talking, but Ratchet was certain that the archivist couldn’t have looked any more adorable than with his brows knitted and his optics wide.

“More that I didn’t want to be found here,” Ratchet admitted with a shrug, pausing to take a gulp of his drink for strength. “Easier to keep up a more flattering image of myself at the archives than here.”

Optimus’s helm tilted slightly, but something like amusement flickered in his brilliant blue optics.

“And what image have I found here then?”

“Med student by day, party ambulance by night, and all around pain in the aft,” Ratchet recited, as he had a million times before at thousands of parties.

Orion’s chuckle, warm and barely audible over the noise of the bar, was by far the greatest reaction he had ever gotten, and Ratchet’s spark swelled.

“Is that what you think I see?” he asked, tone full of humor.

“If not yet, then give me a couple more drinks to prove my point,” Ratchet insisted, his lips curling at the corners as he felt himself relax. The almost familiar ease he had felt with Orion before was back again.

That or the high grade he had chugged was kicking in.

“I thought Jazz was the one looking for free drinks.” Orion was teasing him and Ratchet couldn’t help laughing aloud now.

“No, no! I didn’t mean—I can pay for my own drinks, thank you very much.”

Orion made his way closer, shifting to the side so Ratchet wasn’t trapped between him and the wall, and Ratchet thought to himself that he really wouldn’t have minded that so much. And Primus was that a thought he shouldn’t be having at the moment.

“Then I really don’t see what you have to worry about. I’ve yet to see any supposed ‘party ambulance’ or ‘pain in the aft’.”

Ratchet rolled his optics before replying, “Need I remind you that I was the deranged medical student who had you up until sunrise because I had papers to finish.”

“And I had a lovely time,” Orion replied easily.

“I also nearly punched out your coworker.”

“You’re not the first and you won’t be the last,” Orion insisted, shrugging ever so slightly in the face of Ratchet’s surprise. “He’s not a particularly likeable mech.”

“And you think I am?” Ratchet asked with a snort.

Orion immediately, without a second thought, nodded and said, “I do.”

Ratchet nearly choked on his high grade, wincing as he forced it down his intake correctly and tried to ignore how his whole frame burned.

“Well, that’s very flattering of you.”

A moment passed, and then another, and Ratchet was too flustered to think of anything to say, instead just focusing on his drink and trying desperately to come up with something—

“Ratchet?”

Ratchet’s optics flicked up to Orion’s face. The archivist was staring down at him, optics bright, focused. And he was leaning closer – not too close, nothing invasive but feeling all the more intimate for it.

“You should know that I wanted to find you because I think you’re beautiful and I would like to kiss you,” Orion said, quieter now that they were close, quieter but in that deep voice of his, and Ratchet’s spark pulsed hard at the blatant confession. He opened his mouth, feeling as if that deserved something in response, but Ratchet was wordless. Orion continued, “I know that usually mecha use more, ah, clever lines than that in situations like this, but none of the ones I found seemed to be about you or me. So if you would prefer, I can come up with something, but I wanted to say that first.”

It took rebooting his voicebox twice before Ratchet could stammer out, “No, that—that won’t be necessary, that was – that was good. I mean--” Ratchet grimaced, his face feeling as if it was melting off because this was ridiculous, he was making a complete glitch of himself.

But Orion didn’t stop smiling. If anything, he looked rather charmed.

“I hadn’t realized you were so shy,” Orion commented, teased really, and that was enough to finally snap Ratchet out of his reverie with a startled laugh.

“I’ve been accused to be many a terrible thing, Orion, but shy isn’t one of them,” Ratchet said as he waved his servo in dismissal of the idea.

“You could have fooled me,” Orion insisted, unmoved but clearly amused.

“Well, that’s--!” Ratchet paused, floundering for a moment as his chuckles trailed off, until finally he continued, “It’s a very recent development, I assure you.”

Orion’s optics cycled with interest.

“Oh? How recent?”

“Well,” Ratchet drawled, enchanted by the way Orion looked at him, as if he was somehow equally enchanted by the mess of a mech before him, “how long ago was that night at the café?”

That finally caught the archivist by surprise. Orion’s expression froze and his optics were nearly blindingly bright.

“Ratchet?”

“Yes?”

Orion’s digits were gentle under Ratchet’s chin as he leaned down closer.

“May I kiss you?”

“Please.”

Orion leaned down further, closing the distance as his free servo found a place on Ratchet’s waist, and Ratchet eagerly reached up to pull him in faster.

Until the splash of his forgotten drink across his digits and down Orion’s back startled him and Ratchet could feel humiliation shoot across his lines lightning fast as he yanked his servo back and tried to pull away.

“Frag, I’m sorry --!”

”It’s alright,” Orion laughed, keeping Ratchet close as he plucked the now empty cube from Ratchet’s servo and placed it on a table next to them where his own drink was. Ratchet couldn’t remember when the archivist had abandoned the drink, couldn’t really think past the embarrassment that he had just dumped a drink on Orion, and now of all times--!

And then Orion was pulling him back in and kissing him.

Orion’s lips were sweet with lingering high grade and impossibly soft, and Ratchet quickly lost himself in the feeling of them as he clung to the archivist, kissing back with fervor. Warm servos cupping his cheek and pressing against his lower back, a clever glossa meeting his own eagerly, and the gentle rumbling of Orion’s engine when Ratchet nipped and sucked on his upper lip – it all left Ratchet feeling heady with affection and lust.

Ratchet couldn’t help a muffled groan as Orion retaliated by capturing his bottom lip between his dentae.

“Orion?”

The archivist hummed in question as he kissed the corner of Ratchet’s lips, giving him room to speak, and Ratchet’s spark throbbed.

“You can’t let me go home with you,” Ratchet insisted, aware that the effect was ruined by how breathless he sounded and how his digits pulled at Orion, “no matter what I say later.”

“That’s rather presumptuous of you,” Orion commented, voice full of amusement and somehow deeper than before. Ratchet shuddered slightly and moved his helm so their mouths brushed again, stealing a quick, wet kiss.

“That’s just how things usually go when I’m overcharged and kissing someone at a bar,” Ratchet said as he nuzzled his way under Orion’s chin to drag his glossa up a prominent fuel line before sucking on it. Orion’s engine gave a subtle rev at that and his servo behind Ratchet’s helm stroked encouragingly. “But I like you too much to ruin this with a one-night stand.”

Orion moved then, swooping down to kiss his way into Ratchet’s mouth, long and deeply enough that by the time he pulled away, Ratchet panted against his lips since his overworked cooling fans found little relief in the crowded bar.

“You can’t ruin this.”

Ratchet snorted and replied, “Is that a challenge?”

“More like reassurance,” Orion replied as he trailed his soft, damp lips along Ratchet’s check towards his audials. “Though I can promise you we won’t interface tonight.”

Orion’s mouth was hot around Ratchet’s audial finial and he gasped aloud as his frame arched up against Orion’s.

“You sure? At the rate you’re going, I could be convinced.”

“Which is why we won’t.” Orion drew back until their gazes met, his expression serious as he said, “Not while you’re overcharged.”

And that—

That was new.

Ratchet’s spark ached with emotion strong enough that he dared not name it.

“That’s very considerate of you,” Ratchet managed, aware of how ridiculous that sounded when they were entangled together, spilt high grade growing sticky on Orion’s back and Ratchet’s lips nearly feeling bruised from their fevered kissing. “And that only makes me like you more, so now that we’re agreed about what we won’t do tonight, can we return to what we are doing?”

The serious expression eased into a warm smile as Orion leaned in, but only enough to press their forehelms together. “At this rate, we’ll never get back to our friends.”

“Frag ‘em. This is what they wanted anyway, isn’t it?”

“A fair point, Ratchet.” Orion pressed a slow kiss to Ratchet’s lips. “But we’ll have to face their gloating eventually.”

Ratchet frowned and somehow that just earned him another, albeit chaste, kiss.

“Fine. But you owe me at least one more session like this before the end of the night,” Ratchet demanded, finally removing one of his servos from Orion’s frame to point at him, “and your commlink.”

Orion huffed a soft laugh as he nodded.

“Perhaps even plans for an actual date?”

Ratchet rolled his optics as he stepped back, though he reached to grab Orion by the wrist.

“Obviously. Now come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and then we’ll find where those slaggers got off to. Your big frag-off friend can’t be hard to find in here.”

“Of course.”

Orion’s whole face was lit up with tenderness and quiet joy, and Ratchet swore his processor hiccupped.

Ratchet had been so wrong before, because this. This mech, this face, looking at him with such adoration, was the most adorable thing he had ever seen.

“By the Allspark,” Ratchet murmured. “You really do think I’m likeable.”

And Orion laughed, bright and rumbling.

“Exceedingly so, Ratchet.”

Within seconds, Ratchet had Orion back against the wall and was savoring the sensation of laughter against his lips.

Jazz could wait another five minutes before getting Ratchet’s begrudging gratitude.

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

Oh my gosh, I'm in loveee with you Riverdale posts. Could you maybe write one with Archie getting the flu on the night of a performance or football game and trying to push through but ends up way too sick and needs either Betty or his dad to help him home? Or honestly anything involving Archie is good haha, thank you!

(Going with a performance bc I don’t understand sports..what is a sport?? Also short while i get used to school and get back into writing lol sorry about the break! Takes place  at like episode 5 or 6..the variety show one lol)

Nothing could ever come in between Archie’s love for music.

Something Archie would forever hold dear to his heart was his name. He was an Andrews at his very heart, and there was nothing anyone could do to take it from him. He held the name dear, and what it stood for. He held it proudly, head raised high with it, keeping him strong.

Archie was content with his family life. It wasn’t perfect, there was a small part of him that longed for it to be whole again, but his heart was put at ease with the knowledge and assurance he was very much loved by both parents. Mary nurtured him, taught him about the world and taught him to be kind. Fred taught him how to be strong and to be good.

Of course there were rough and bumps like every family, but they were actually a family who were there. Recent events really put things into perspective. Money had always kind of been a recurring issue in the Andrews household. They were not poor, but certainly not rich by any means. They were lower middle class, and that was okay with them, they had each other, but it was nevertheless, a problem.

So Fred taught him to work hard. Mary taught him to give everything his 100%. Working hard lead to success, and life didn’t wait around for you, you had to chase after it. That was the way the world worked, and Archie took the advice to heart.

Working hard lead to success, and to Archie, that included working through illnesses.

Meaning, when Archie woke up the morning of his big performance for the Variety Show with a raging fever, a sickening feeling of nausea riddled within his system and a throat that felt like it had been repeatedly pricked by a swarm of needles, he was determined to go on.

He’d been working so hard for this day for weeks upon weeks. He had progressed so much in the past few weeks to get to this point, and this was not going to go to waste just because he had a bit of a fever. Archie quickly took some ibuprofen with a swig of water, splashed his sweaty, heated and reddened face with some cool water and he told himself he was good to go.

Archie hauled his guitar bag onto his shoulder and made a soft grunting noise as the weight weighed down on him. It wasn’t a particularly heavy instrument–he wasn’t hauling around a cello or a double bass, but in his weakened state it felt like he was carrying mountains. He dragged his lifeless body down the stairs, holding on shakily to the rails to try and keep himself together as the world spun rapidly and head pounded tortuously.

“Im very excited to see you tonight, Archie, l’ll be off in about 30 minutes,” Fred explained causally, his back turned to Archie as he finished up making his cup of coffee. He turned around and his features grew concerned.

“Hey, tiger, you’re looking a little on the paler side. You okay, kiddo?”

Archie smiled weakly at him, his voice hoarse,  "A little nervous, dad, t-to tell you the truth. I uh..don’t want to disappoint you.“

Fred sighed fondly and approached his son and cupped his face, frowning a little at the heat, "Hm, you’re a little warm ..there’s no reason to be this nervous you’re panicking this much. Archie..you could never disappoint me. I love you very much, and you are going to kill it tonight. I’m going to leave the hall a very proud and excited dad.”

Archie tensed a little at the mention of the heat, and pulled his jacket tighter against him to try and subside his shivering. He felt so cold, trying not to chatter his teeth. He managed a weak smile, “..T-thank you dad..I love you.”

Fred chuckled fondly and batted his son’s cheek lovingly, “Now go on and shine, my rising star.”

Archie couldn’t help the wide smile that spread across his face as he began to leave the house. But the moment after was out of his sight all wellness in his body washed away and he became very painfully aware of how awfully sick he was. His teeth chattering, body shuddering and convulsing as a strangled and painful coughing fit forced its way out of his chest.

But he was not a quitter. He was an Andrews, and he was going to do this.

Archie didn’t know how he did it, but he managed to drag his weakened, heavy body over to the school. Archie made his way over to the school auditorium, his lungs weighing down on him and feeling as if they weighed a tonne. It was like they were made out of steel–and it certainly seemed like it because Archie could barely breathe.

Archie gasped as his chest felt sore and heavy, a light and congested wheeze sounding out every time he exhaled. He wondered if Jughead felt like this every time he was sick, because Archie suddenly felt a new connection to the guy. He made a small mental note to be kinder to Jughead next time he was sick.

Archie shoved the door to an empty dressing room open, immediately dropping his guitar bag onto a bean bag and proceeding to collapse against the shitty couch the school probably got for as cheap as possible. He breathed heavily, trying to clear his throat to stop the horrible wheeze that rang from his chest every time he breathed. The wheeze seemed to pull at his lungs, leaving a painful sensation every time he breathed.

Archie hissed at the pain, squeezing his eyes shut as a wave of heat surged through his body. He panted as sweat trickled down from his scalp, shifting uncomfortably as his face heated up. He couldn’t see himself but he was so so sure his face was matching his hair. He breathed in heavily, feeling suffocated but every time he breathed another pang of tortuous pain would strike him. He tried not breathing, but it backfired on him horribly.

A strangled cough tore its way out of Archie’s chest. Then another, then another, until they were all piling on top of one another and all Archie could do was splutter and hack. His chest felt as if it was being stabbed repeatedly by a flaming dagger. His chest was on fire.

He could hear the door open through his agony, and he could hear a shocked gasp. The next time he knew there was a cool hand rubbing his back soothingly, the touch feeling extremely fresh and calming.

Archie managed to finish his fit and sniffled wetly, tears beading his eyes as he wiped them away. He hunched over the edge of the couch and breathed in heavily as he tried to catch his breath. He panted, holding onto the edge of the couch and the person’s hand as he felt a wave of faint and nausea hit him, his body faint from the lack of oxygen.

“..Archie, you shouldn’t be here,” Valerie said quietly, still rubbing Archie’s back soothingly.

“..I need to perform tonight, Val..I’ve worked so hard..” Archie croaked, shifting so he was facing her.

Valerie softens and gives him a caring look, kneeling down on her knees and resting her hands on his shoulders. Her gaze is warm and comforting, and Archie feels a lot safer all of a sudden.

“You have..in fact, I think you’ve worked too much,” She says sympathetically and placed her hand on his cheek and tuts a little.

Archie sniffled, unsure if he was just sick or he’s getting emotional, maybe both, “I-I..tried so hard..I really did..but I still failed..t-they were right..”

Valerie sighed and shook her head, smiling warmly at him and the way she looked at him makes Archie feel like he isn’t such a wreck after all, there’s this twinkle in her eye that makes everything feel a little better, “You did try. And you didn’t fail. You are going to do this, Archie. They were so wrong about you. I believe in you.”

Archie managed a weak smile and nods, “O-okay.”

Valerie chuckled, “But right after, you are going straight home, okay? Get some rest. I’ll check up on you tomorrow.”

“Valerie?” Melanie called from outside.

She smiled softly, “Well, I gotta go now. If you freeze up..pretend like nobody else is in the room. Lose yourself in it, and think about what makes you feel safe.”

Archie grins at her weakly, squinting slightly from the bright lights and the pounding headache, “..Thank you, Val. You’ve been..amazing these past few weeks. I am so..so thankful. You are going to be amazing, as always.”

Valerie chuckles and presses a soft kiss to his hair and leaves shortly.

Archie sighs softly, and unzips his guitar bag and gets himself ready.

He drank cups and cups of water, hoping to soothe his throat. He focused on his breathing, trying to rest as much as possible so he doesn’t disappoint. He can faintly hear the electronic and powerful vocals and melody of the Pussycats, and he knew he had to do this.

Archie grasped his guitar shakily, letting out a puff of air as he staggered over backstage. His headache seemed to be worsening, and a cold wave hit him and he shuddered violently, shaking like he was the focus of an earthquake.

The Pussycats left through the other side of the stage, and he could hear Kevin yell his name. There was clapping, and whistling from what Archie could recognise was his dad. There was a ringing in his ears, and his blood ran cold and he was somehow walking onto stage.

Archie sat down on the little stool, shaking as he adjusted his mic. He cleared his throat, and when he looked up to see many faces staring right into him, a hot wave came crashing in and Archie felt faint. The ringing in his ears intensified.

Then Archie recognised faces, Valerie, Betty, his dad, Jughead, Veronica…and suddenly everything was okay.

Archie closed his eyes, and thought about his friends. He thought about their booth at pops, and their jokes and their laughter, and then he lost himself in the music.

Archie can’t even remember what happened, but whatever happened, it warranted a standing ovation and tremendous clapping. He could hear whooping and screaming, whistling and cheers. Archie felt euphoric.

The adrenaline was too much for him to handle, and he couldn’t help the tears that fell from his face. Archie bowed humbly and stumbled off the stage, out of it like he had just drank bottles upon bottles of alcohol but this buzz was better and far more exhilarating than any buzz alcohol could give him.

But the minute the lights no longer framed his face and he stepped off stage, he felt extremely woozy and the nausea was back with a vengeance.

Betty ran up to him, her expression like the sun had come alive and took form through her. She was smiling from ear to ear, bouncing in her step. Her presence was he only thing that kept him steady.

“Archie! You were amazing! I’m so–”

Then the the world tilted and he stumbled. Then suddenly he felt light, and he was falling, and it was oddly peaceful but he was caught by her arms, and with a shocker and scared gasp she hauled him over her shoulder.

“Help! My friend!” Betty wailed in fear, feeling Archie’s face and gasping with what she felt.

He could hear what seemed to be Veronica running off and yelling for his dad, but all he could pay attention to was his racing and beating heart and the way the overhead lights flared. Something this mundane had never been so beautiful.

“Archie, you’re going to be okay, honey, I promise..I’m right here, your dad is coming..It’s okay, Archie..You’re doing so good..We’re all so proud..You’re okay..” Betty’s voice was beautifully soft, blessedly kind and warm. So peaceful that it lulled him to a peaceful slumber and it was the last thing he heard before he faded into his dreams.

Archie woke up to a blinding light and a figure standing over him.

“Jesus, Arch..you scared me so so much,” Fred sighed, pinching the bride of his nose.

Archie frowned, then groaned as his headache intensified. He put a hand to his temple and forced himself to sit up, unable to fully open his eyes as they were too heavy and sore. He looked around, noticing he was in his bedroom.

“I’m sorry, dad..I had to. I’ve been working so hard..”

Fred chuckled fondly and sat down on the edge of his bed, “Of course, you did. You’re an Andrews. Of course you worked hard.”

Archie was silent, looking away in guilt.

Fred huffed and ruffled Archie’s hair, pulling him in for a bear hug, “And you made me proud. You were..phenomenal, Archie. Truly. It really moved me, Archie. I’m so proud of you, son.”

Archie couldn’t help the shaky, emotional giggle and the tears that fell afterwards.

“..but please, don’t scare me like that ever again. You are my son and I love you very much. I could not be prouder to be your father.”

There were two things Archie valued the most, music, and the people he loved.

[hobbithabitthings-blog]

Falling Stars (4)

Pairing: Slight Lindir x reader and Fili x reader in here. Send me your requests! Word count: 2404 (lmao its so long im sorry)                                                Summary; You just wanted a normal day for once but turns out you just can’t and end falling into middle earth and accompanying Thorin’s epic quest         Warnings: Swearing, oblivious!modern!reader                                                   A/N: Hey guys I promise this chapter is actually good unlike the last one lmao. Also there’s a little lindir x reader in here so be warned haha.

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Everything hurt, and when you said everything you meant everything. Even your arms hurt and you were given the lightest pack!

You wished the ponies hadn't run away... Or you know, eaten.

It wasn't your fault you had stumbled upon the trolls when you went to pee, they just sort of popped outta nowhere carrying away the company's ponies. Your brain couldn't even process what you saw and to top it all off after Kíli, Fíli, and Bilbo found you hiding near a fallen log, the princes forced you an Bilbo to go check them out. Some friends they were!

The trolls were probably the most ugly things you had the pleasure of gazing upon and you certainly did not want to 'check them out' as Fíli put it. You weren't a warrior or Bilbo's size and so once the two of you stealthily padded over to where your captured ponies where, the one sharpening a knife, William, had spotted you.

Bilbo of course-that lucky bastard, escaped once Tom, the one with the cold, snatched you up by the ankle.

You really hated your life right then.

Though, just as the trolls decided to make you into a pie, your heroes, beards and all, came to your rescue. Yet, as brave as they were it didn't go as planned and poor Bilbo almost had his limbs ripped off. And so, you were all shoved into burlap sacks while some of the dwarves were strapped onto a spit. You were included in that bunch lucky enough to roast on the fire and strapped on under Bofur's stinky feet and above Dwalin's tattooed head. You made sure your feet dug into his back each time he complained about your own smelly feet or how the fire singed his skin.

But, as always, Gandalf came to the rescue just as the sun rose and cracked the giant stone. Just like in Narnia! Anyways....

Now you had no ponies, and that meant you could feel the full wrath of your Converse shoes plus thin socks. Helllooooo blisters!

At first you didn't think it was such a terrible idea to walk the rest of the way, like, Erebor couldn't be that far away right? Also, the weather wasn't terrible and although you hated walking, it was better than getting sore muscles from ridding a pony all day.

Boy, were you wrong.

The first bad thing to happen besides the trolls of course, was the strange other wizard with bird shit in his hair and screamed about evil and spiders and shit. The only good thing that came out of the chance encounter with Radagast the Brown was that Fíli and Kíli had the balls to actually apologize to you for forcing you to meet with the trolls. You gave them each a good punch to the stomach, not that it hurt them in anyway at all...Really, it hurt you instead to the point of your knuckles bruising.

Damn those dwarves! At least they gave you kisses upon your injured fist and a group hug that left you gasping for breath when they squeezed too hard.

At first you thought nothing about the howls that echoed around the forest but after a wolf, which most definitely was not a wolf, nearly killed poor Bofur, but your Hulk with tattoos whacked it over its head with his intimidating axe before it could do any harm.

And now you were running. That's right, running while the Company and you bolted across the land covered in yellow grass to God knows where.

It was no secret that you weren't the most athletic human being to ever live, but sometimes a girl gotta lift some weights every now and then. So in no way you were considered weak(at least for human standards) but running! You despised running.

Goddamnit, I knew I should of used the treadmill, you thought gloomily.

"(y/n)! Keep up!" Thorin barked, yanking you from your horrid thoughts of impeding doom.

"I could if I didn't have short fuckin' legs." You hissed under your breath while picking up your pace.

You legs burned but the thought of being consumed by an angry pack of oversized dogs and strange mutated goblin things kept you going. That is, until you were surrounded by the snarling beasts.

Oh, what have you gotten yourself into?

"(y/n)!" Thorin shouted, snatching your arm to pull you out of the way as one of the wargs charged.

His blade easily sliced through its pelt and you winced as the beast fell. You sure hoped you'd never be on the receiving end of his blade...

"Stay behind me," Thorin ordered, glancing behind his shoulder. "I intend to keep you alive."

"Great." You breathed, glancing behind you to see if there was another escape rout. There wasn't anything but rock behind you. Or so you thought.

"This way, you fools!" The sudden voice of Gandalf ordered, his pointy hat popping out from the rock.

You didn't hesitate in throwing yourself into the alcove of rock, desperate to escape the threat of a having your face ripped off. Try explaining that to your mother once you returned home.

The rest of the dwarves and Bilbo barreled in after you, some of them landing right on top of you. Namely Bombur.

For some reason the idea of getting squashed by a massive dwarf was better than being eaten in your mind. Maybe it was because Bombur gave you food. Yeah, that was it.

Anyhow, with a devious smirk from Gandalf and moody grumbles from the dwarves, you all piled into the narrow passageway that smelled like wet rock and moss. You tried you best not to trip over the stones that jutted out on the path, but it happened every so often anyways. Thankfully Fíli caught you each time.

"Careful, lass." He chuckled, blue eyes twinkling. "Wouldn't want ya to hurt yourself."

"I'm surprised I haven't yet." You laughed. "Knowing my luck I'll probably be sliced into pieces soon, or thrown off a cliff, or maybe eaten..."

You missed the flash of worry present on Fíli's face, too occupied with trying to maneuver safely out of the crevice, or as you deemed it, a secret passage. You for one wanted to get out of the small space as quickly as possible.

And as if someone answered your prayers, the passage opened up to probably the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. You let out a gasp and wandered to the edge of the small cliff that led into the valley.

"The Valley of Imladris," Gandalf spoke. "In the common tongue it is known by another name. Here lies the last Homely House East of the sea."  

It was gorgeous and magical all at once from what you saw, with it's ornate buildings built upon the various rivers and cascading falls. Already you could feel the spray of the waterfalls from up on the ledge, a bubble of excitement building inside you.

The rest of the dwarves seemed to be as mystified as you were but after a few angry words from Thorin in that harsh language of theirs, they were snapped out of the spell. You, not really giving two shits about what Thorin said, happily trotted along with Gandalf who led the line of dwarves down the pass and onto the beautifully carved bridges.

"Gandalf?" You said dreamily.

"Yes, dear one?"

"What is this place?"

"It is called Rivendell in the common tongue. The elves call it Imladris." The wizard answered with a smile.

"Elves?"

Your second question was left unanswered as you crossed a final bridge and into a courtyard. Trees with shimmering green and golden leaves swayed around the circular area, the rushing river hugging the left side of it. You spun around and breathed in the sharp mountain air as it rustled your hair, the scent of lilacs lingering as an after taste. If magic had a smell this would be it.

Just as you did another spin to memorize the scenery, a man with long brown hair with a silver diadem placed upon his brow, gracefully descended down the steps towards the Company. He wore a purple robe, but as he got closer you realized the cloth wasn't just purple; t was black and silver and gold, and the deepest shade of something similar to purple that you could not name. It truly was magic.

In your confusion to name the color of the mystery man's robe, you also took note of his not-so-human like ears. They were pointy. When Gandalf mentioned elves your mind took the courtesy of imagining little tiny people with brightly colored clothes with golden bells and pointed shoes, not drop-dead gorgeous men with long flowing locks.

"Mithrandir." The elf called.

"Ah! Lindir!" Gandalf greeted, placing his hand on his heart, the elf doing the same.

The rest of the conversation went right over your head as the two fell into some other kind of language you couldn't hope to comprehend. It sounded nice though. Much more gentle and smooth compared to what the dwarves spoke, like comparing water to rock.

At least while they spoke you could dreamily stare at 'Lindir', as Gandalf called him. Unfortunately it didn't last long since the sudden sound of a horn being blown echoed around the valley. An iron fist wrenched you away from Galdalf's side and threw you into the center of a smelly dwarf circle along with Bilbo. The dwarves all bared their weapons as at least 50 horses surrounded them, towering over the party.

They were all so pretty even if the carried swords and spears.

You were too lost in your thoughts and overwhelmed by Rivendell and its inhabitants to notice that the Lord of Rivendell had welcomed you with open arms. Too overwhelmed it seemed that even as the company followed Lord Elrond up the stairs, you didn't even notice.

"Excuse me, my lady." A soft voice spoke as you leaned over the edge of the courtyard to peek at the running river.

You whipped around, you fascination now fixed on a certain elf who stood before you. He was even more impressive up close and seeing his near perfect self you realized you probably looked like utter shit. Dirt covered your clothes and shoes and you probably had mud streaked across your forehead along with a couple of bleeding scratches you hadn't bothered to worry about. In all honesty you were surprised you were even allowed in here. Speaking of not being allowed in places...where did your friends go?

"Um...hi?" You stuttered, faltering under Lindir's intense gaze.

"I do not mean to be insensitive, my lady, but you are not a dwarf." He stated, his head tilting to the side. "Why would a human girl such as yourself be traveling with them?"

Why indeed, you thought bitterly, flashes of that night where you had fallen into Middle Earth spinning inside your head.

You shrugged and gave Lindir a wry smile. "Dunno, it wasn't like I had much of a choice."

Lindir's puppy dog eyes widened. "You were kidnapped?"

"What? No!" You laughed, scratching the back of your head. "It's just-it's a long story and I'd probably bore you out of your mind if I told you. Plus you'd never believe me."

Lindir gave you an empathetic smile and brushed a pale hand over your shoulder, the touch sending shivers through you. "Come, I will bring you to your friends, and if you wish you may tell me your tale while we walk."

"Oh, o-okay.." You said, blushing a fiery red that put tomatoes to shame. "Your name is Lindir right?"

"Yes, my lady." He said, folding his arms behind his back as you both climbed the marble steps.

"That's a nice name." You said without thinking. After processing what you did, you hurriedly blurted out something before Lindir realized what you said. "My name is (y/n), by the way. Not that you care or whatever. Just thought you should know since you keep calling me 'my lady'. I'm not a princess or anything...ha..ha.."

You swore at yourself for rambling. Goddammit (y/n), this is why people think you're crazy!  

"(y/n)." He repeated as if testing to see how it sounded on his own tongue. You blushed again. "A lovely name for an equally lovely lady."

You swore you just had a heart attack. This man- or rather elf, was a smooth talker and eye candy. Though, he was probably just being nice. I mean, you looked like a hobo and you were  a guest and all. You sighed.

Oh well, at least you could say you got complimented at least once by a hot guy even if it was just out of hospitality.

As Lindir escorted you through the swirling designs and patterns of Rivendell, you couldn't help falling a little in love with the place. It was so peaceful and lovely here, much different from your journey here and the urban life back at home.

You rounded another corner and Lindir stopped in front of an ornate looking door. Flowers hung from the ceiling, framing the wood and you reached out to thumb a scarlet petal, marveling at the color.

"This is your room Lord Elrond has provided you, lady (y/n)." Lindir smiled, pearly white teeth flashing behind his lips. "A bath has been drawn and clothes are laid out for you if you decide to dine with Lord Elrond and your Company tonight."

Your heart swelled at his kindness. "Thanks Lindir."

He bowed his head in acknowledgement, his hand unclasping from behind his back to reach for your own. His soft hand held your forearm with a certain tenderness and swept down towards your wrist, his nimble fingers brushing against the fragile bone, then finally down to grasp your hand in his, knuckles faced up. Meeting your eye, he brought your hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss upon your bruised knuckles, much like how Fíli and Kíli did earlier that day.

"I hope to see you at dinner, (y/n)." Lindir murmered. "You still have not told me your tale, and I wish to hear it."

"Alright." You hummed sheepishly, your face matching the scarlet flowers that hung from the potted plants.

With one last smile, Lindir turned gracefully on his heel and disappeared down another corridor, his purple robes and his dark hair flowing behind him. You couldn't help the dopey smile that lingered on your lips.

Rivendell was rockin'.  

[the-tevinter-biscuit]

I've dealt with anxiety for about 6+ years now and when you mention your issues, it helps me feel less alone. It shows that I'm not alone and I can fight through it. My anxiety's been through the roof because of stressing about college so I thought I'd send an ask (for the first time ever because it makes me nervous haha) to a blogger who I thought would understand. Hope you've had a good day today, hugs and kisses ♥

(i apologise in advance for making this an excuse to talk about my experiences and vent)

its not something i talk about a lot because im a firm believer in trying to surround yourself with positivity, sometimes talking about it makes me more upset than i was originally and i really cant tell if i was just having a really rough time last year or it was heightened by surrounding myself with people like me who sort of encourage that negative thinking.

until i got to the end of high school, it was something i could safely manage. my workload wasn’t a lot and there were parts i really hated but i got away pretty alright with just some really bad stomachaches.but since i started having to prepare for exams about 3 or 4 years ago i went through a really rough time. 

my first college only got worse. i had a lot of problems there, and i was in the midst of it about when i started this blog. the stress had broke me out in eczema and really bad panic attacks. while the college was very shitty and was the cause for a lot of people i know having mental health issues, they could handle that sort of stuff pretty well. there was a lovely woman in the nurses office who used to sit with me through my panic attacks (they were literally so debilitating id miss 45 minutes of class just trying to breathe again and get the blood flow back in my limbs) who ran the lgbt enrichment “club” that i used to attend (so hearing “charlie” and using they/them pronouns was really soothing.) and she was the one who applied me for a CBT course on dealing with panic.

i still deal with anxiety. because with these things you have to help yourself escaping scenarios is the worst thing you could do. unfortunately, i am very very good at escaping situations im not comfortable with. just look at how bad my attendance at my first college was. because my anxiety at the time rested a lot in classroom environments the whole “breakdown into small steps” just didnt work for me. it was all or nothing. attend and suffer or dont attend at all.

right now, im not having a good time either. summertime depression is a thing that happens to me every year and it has for about the last 6. an apprenticeship i know im perfect for hasnt called me back, its the only thing i feel like i might be able to actually do. there are no jobs in my area. i can do another year of college but what then? i dont feel capable of doing anything. theres nothing for me. i have no future, no hope. on top of that, i feel the most down about my art and writing than ive been in a long time. 

i just dont know what the point of anything is. i feel like such a burden and disappointment to everyone around me. 

so, i get it. college is tough or at least i certainly cant cope with it very well. i hope things work out for you! if anything, sending me this ask if one step forward for you right? :)

sorry for…rambling so much about myself. i guess i needed to get it off my chest.

all the best anon!

[sweater-soo]

baeksoo - memory loss? i love ur writing btw 💕

♡♡♡

this is gonna be based on a concept i’ve been trying to write for a while. hope you like it!

The fridge is filled with leftovers.

For the past month, Kyungsoo’s been cooking too much food. Meals for two, even though he’s been single for--god, ages now. Long enough that he shouldn’t be making this mistake. And he normally doesn’t; it’s just a recent thing, this confusion.

He doesn’t know how it started. Things have been weird in general lately. His friends keep referencing things he doesn’t understand, mentioning things he wasn’t around for. Or he doesn’t think he was, at least. Jongdae’s wedding is kind of dubious, because Kyungsoo was allegedly a groomsman, and all he can recall of the whole thing are little snapshots, like something from a night of heavy drinking.

He sighs and grabs a plastic container. Inside is leftover gimbap, frustratingly devoid of cucumber for some reason, because he can’t seem to make it any other way. It’ll have to do.

When he gets dishware from the cupboard, it takes him a second to realize he’s grabbed two plates. And he doesn’t quite know why, but it makes his heart sink a little, makes his throat close up around a half-formed sob. He closes his eyes and leans heavily against the counter.

“Get yourself together,” he mutters. “This is ridiculous.”

He picks up two pairs of chopsticks from the drawer. The wordless shout of frustration echoes through the empty apartment.

--

“Hey, have we met?”

The stranger at the bus stop has silver hair and droopy little eyes that make him look slightly cartoonish. Like an anime character, maybe. His head is cocked to the side in a puppy-like way. It’s oddly endearing.

“I doubt it,” says Kyungsoo. “I’d probably remember you.”

The stranger laughs. “Because of the hair, right?” he says.

“Well, that too,” says Kyungsoo, “but mostly because you’re cute.” He feels his face heating up at his unexpected brazenness and lets out a laugh, ducking his head. “Sorry, uh. That was--”

“Oh! No, don’t worry about it.”

Kyungsoo looks up and finds the stranger grinning at him, teeth sharp and pearly white, eyes mischievous. It’s infectious, and Kyungsoo finds himself smiling back easily.

“I’m Baekhyun,” says the stranger. “And you’re not bad yourself.”

“Kyungsoo.”

Something strange passes over Baekhyun’s face. He frowns. “Are you sure we haven’t met?” he says.

Kyungsoo shakes his head, saying again, “I’d remember,” this time with more conviction than he really feels.

--

“Why do you keep bugging me about dating?” Kyungsoo asks after they finish their second round of drinks. “I can understand with Jongdae, since that’s just a married person thing, but you, too?”

Chanyeol has that shifty look on his face, that I’m-hiding-something-but-can’t-lie-convincingly-so-I’ll-just-avoid-the-subject-instead one that didn’t work when they were in high school and certainly won’t work now. “We’re just worried,” he says. “You seem lonely. We’re looking out for you, y’know?”

“I’m not lonely.” Kyungsoo pours another shot of soju into Chanyeol’s glass. “Anyway, you can stop worrying. I’m seeing someone now. Um. Kind of.”

Chanyeol lights up, beaming eagerly. “Yeah?”

“It’s too early to call it anything. We’ve been on a few dates. But it’s--I dunno, it’s going pretty well.” A soft smile pulls at his lips. “I think I really like him.”

And he does. Baekhyun is funny and charming and sweet, easy with his affection, transparent with his feelings. He kisses like he’s making a promise, and his playful smiles and flirtatious texts are always the best things about Kyungsoo’s week.

Chanyeol nods. “Good! So what’s his name?” he asks, lifting his glass to his lips.

“Baekhyun.”

Immediately, Chanyeol starts coughing as the soju he just inhaled goes down the wrong way. It takes a moment for him to recover, and his eyes are red and teary as he says, “Um, who?”

“Byun Baekhyun?” Kyungsoo furrows his brow. “Do you know him?”

There’s a deer-in-headlights look on Chanyeol’s face. He pulls his phone from his pocket and gives it a look of obviously fake surprise. “Oh, wow, look at the time.” He chuckles nervously. “Sorry, gotta go. I need to, um--yeah, sorry.” He leaves Kyungsoo with more than enough money to pay for the drinks, then vanishes. It’s more than a little conspicuous.

On his way out, Kyungsoo texts Jongdae to ask if he knows why the name Byun Baekhyun nearly gave Chanyeol a heart attack. All he sees for three days is Read at 9:17pm.

--

Dear Mr. & Mrs. Kim

Byun Baekhyun has had Do Kyungsoo erased from his memory. Please never mention their relationship to him again.

Thank You.

LACUNA INC.

“There’s one from yours, too,” Jongdae says quietly as Kyungsoo stares at the card stock. “Same thing, but the names are switched.”

Kyungsoo’s been staring at the text for so long it’s all gone out of focus. He wants to ask if it’s a joke, but somehow he doesn’t think it is.

“How--” His voice is hoarse. He clears his throat and tries again. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long were we together?”

It takes a moment for Jongdae to answer. Then, “Almost two years.”

It’s an ice pick right in the chest. Kyungsoo takes a deep, unsteady breath and tries to get a hold of himself. He thinks about Baekhyun’s laugh, the familiar touch of his hands, how every moment with him feels so comfortable and right. And now those feelings seem like a betrayal, all based on something terrible. On a mistake.

“Was I happy?” he asks, searching Jongdae’s expression desperately.

Jongdae has this pitying frown. He rests a hand on Kyungsoo’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he says. “For a while.”

--

Baekhyun squeezes Kyungsoo’s hand. “You’ve been really quiet today,” he says. “What’s wrong? Are you pissed at me or something?”

“No,” Kyungsoo says quickly, even though he kind of is. Baekhyun had the procedure done first, ran away from their problems instead of fixing them. But that was a different Baekhyun. This Baekhyun--his Baekhyun--hasn’t left him. It isn’t fair to harbor so much resentment like this. “Something happened with one of my friends,” he says. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Baekhyun looks skeptical, but he shrugs. “Alright. Whatever you say.”

Kyungsoo smiles weakly. On a sudden impulse, he leans in and presses his lips to Baekhyun’s, just wanting that feeling of rightness to come back. And it does, in a way, but there’s a bitter taste to it. He kisses him more insistently, Baekhyun’s mouth opening with a gentle sigh. It’s all still salvageable, Kyungsoo tells himself. It doesn’t have to be like before.

Baekhyun’s hands cup Kyungsoo’s face gently, like he’s something precious. Then it’s just warm tongue. Soft lips. Quiet humming. All familiar in a way that’s started to seem more terrible than reassuring, leaving Kyungsoo to wonder if he’s just going to keep repeating the same mistakes.

writing angst for these two hurts my heart a little, haha. but i hope you like it, anon♡

(also, this is like... really obviously just taken from eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. im horribly uncreative lmao)

[phanlight]

Imagine Living Like A King Someday

prompt: Southview Boarding School isn’t a castle and Phil Lester isn’t royalty, but he has everything. His father owns the school, he’s popular, has the best room, gets all the best treatment – there are very few things that aren’t handed to him on a platter. Dan is a cleaner/Phil’s personal maid there, and he isn’t as lucky. Everyone seems to take an aversion to the outsider, including Phil (at first).

[CHAPTER MASTERPOST]

I’ve made one of my new year’s resolutions to put this thing back onto some kind of updating schedule. I don’t know what it’s going to be yet or whether I’m going to stick to it, but I’ll give it a shot :)

Update: im so sorry I wrote that note on the 3rd of January it’s now the 24th and im a mess but ill still try my best hAha

warnings: smoking, mentions of violence

Twenty-Two

“Just like the old days, this is,” Freddie grins, gazing up at the sky. Clouds part every now and then, giving way to idle twinkles of light against the blackness. “Us lot, out here, hiding from the cameras. It’s almost as if this year hasn’t happened, isn’t it?”

Phil gulps, the taste of tobacco souring in his mouth a little. The idea of smoking to relieve his stress suddenly doesn’t seem so smart anymore.

“Except we’re missing someone, aren’t we?” Violet chimes in, feigning sickly innocence. “Where’s your best friend, Phil? Too bad he couldn’t join us.”

“He’s not my best friend,” Phil mutters bitterly.

“Must be a real bummer being cooped up inside on your own when everyone else is free, mustn’t it?” Freddie comments.

“Good,” Phil bites back. “The further he is away from me, the better.”

“Someone’s touchy,” Violet comments. “I never remembered you being so scathing, Phil.”

“I do,” Freddie comments. “You were probably thrilled when his tag got extended.”

“Yeah; it’s such a travesty my father actually gave him the punishment he deserved,” Phil puts his hand on his heart in mock-sorrow and fuck, why can’t he just keep his mouth shut?

“You’re saying it’s justified to give him a three month tag extension for something out of his control?” Freddie raises his eyebrows, huffing out a surprised breath. “Wow. I guess being a self-righteous wanker really does run in the family.”

“Look, if you’re here to lecture me on my gene pool, I want nothing to do with it,” Phil rolls his eyes.

“God, since when did you get so cocky?” Violet eyes him carefully.

“Round about the time I befriended some decent people and realised how shitty you guys actually were.”

“Oh that’s very rich,” Freddie laughs, and it resounds bitterly through the atmosphere. “Shitty? Coming from he who hasn’t said anything truthful since he was about twelve years old? I’d say that’s quite a shitty attribute, if you ask me.”

“Well no-one is asking you, so if you don’t mind, I think I’ll-“

“Woah, not yet,” Violet grabs him. “’Decent people’? Like who? Because as far as I’m aware, the only person you’ve befriended as soon as we cleared off was your cleaner. Not what I would really call a social climb, but-”

“I don’t need to give you a fucking report of my social life,” Phil snaps.

“Well, at least we know for a fact Liam won’t be on there,” Freddie says. “It’s just such a shame you two don’t see much of each other anymore, isn’t it?”

“Not as far as I’m concerned,” Phil. “I’m sick of him. If I ever see him again it’ll be a million years too soon.”

“Well I don’t think he particularly wants to see you either,” Violet says, “and to be perfectly honest, I don’t blame him. If my best friend alienated me for the best part of a year for no good reason, I certainly wouldn’t be best pleased.”

“For no good-” Phil blanches, shaking his head in disbelief. “What the fuck, Violet? You think I did this without reason?”

“Well I can’t see one. And we know for a fact that he can’t either,” she inspects her nails, feigning nonchalance.

“I have my reasons,” Phil says defensively. “Not that it’s remotely any of your business, of course.”

“Oh, but I think it is,” Freddie says. “He’s our friend too, y’know.”

“He’s not fucking mine anymore, though,” Phil says.

“You wouldn’t be saying that this time last year,” Violet narrows her eyes. “What’s changed, eh? What’s gotten into you?”

“Some fucking sense,” Phil fires back.

“More like that cleaner’s dick,” Freddie mutters, and they both roar with laughter.

Phil clenches his jaw, a hot surge of anger jolting through his veins.

“If you fucking dare talk about Dan like that again, I’ll-“

“Oh, so that’s his name, is it?” Violet raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like you and him are getting to know each other. This is all moving so quickly.”

“Keep up then,” Phil snaps.

“He’s still fuming with him, you know,” Freddie comments. “Even more so now he’d found out you got let off the hook earlier than all of us. Oh, and that you lied to him. He didn’t appreciate that too much. Christ knows what he’s planning.”

Phil sees red. He grabs Freddie’s collar and they both slam into the nearest wall.  

“You let him so much as touch Dan, and my dad will end your fucking educational life faster than Liam can throw a punch.”

“Oh, that’s very characteristic of you, Phil,” Violet snaps back immediately, but Freddie stays cool, eyeing up Phil. He’s so close he can smell the cigarette on his breath and the aftershave around his collar. “Sitting back and letting Daddy do all the dirty work.”

“Oh, do one, Violet.” Phil mutters to her without turning around.

“Fair enough,” Freddie shrugs.

Phil stops at that, loosening his grip. “What?”

“I said fair enough,” he repeats, before grinning. “Your dad can do what he likes to us. But it’s not like we don’t have anything to use back against you.”

Phil’s stomach swirls. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I imagine if King Lester knew you were out here doing that,” he points to the cigarette still lit between Phil’s fingers, “he wouldn’t be best pleased with you, either, would he? Especially after all the fucking drama you’ve caused this year, what with the security tags and that.”

Phil gulps. Shit, he didn’t think of that.

There’s a long, drawn-out silence. Phil swallows, letting Freddie go. He rubs his neck a little but doesn’t take his back from against the wall.

“Just-… don’t hurt him,” Phil sighs, suddenly quieter. “Please. He doesn’t deserve it.”

Violet narrows her eyes, almost considering what Phil had said, but Freddie just says, “we’ll see.”

“Freddie-“

“We didn’t deserve to be treated like fucking prisoners for three months because of him, but we did it. And now Liam has another three months, and-“

“Please, just-“ Phil pleads, not wanting to hear any more. “You can do whatever you want, but- just don’t hurt him. Don’t let Liam hurt him. Please. I’m begging you.”

“You don’t want us to let Liam hurt him? Fine. We won’t,” Freddie agrees, walking away from the wall, but his tone is clipped and there’s something about the glitter in his eye that doesn’t sit well with Phil at all.

“I fucking hope you mean that,” Phil frowns. “Because if you let him do anyth-“

“I literally just made it explicit that we won’t. What else do you want us to do? Sign a fucking contract?”

That would help, actually, Phil thinks. Anything to put his mind at rest.

He doesn’t say this out loud, though, and lets another silence creep in.

“What?” Freddie breaks it, and it’s only then Phil realises he’s been frowning. “Don’t you trust us?”

“Why should I?” Phil mumbles. “Like, seriously. Give me one reason why I should trust you.”

Freddie thinks for a moment, and then sighs.

“You want a reason?” he raises his eyebrows.

“Well- yeah, considering I literally just asked for one.”

“Cut the arrogance, Lester,” Violet lights up another cigarette. “It never looked good on you.”

Phil glares at her, but remains silent.

“Because,” Freddie continues, “when we found out about you and Dan, we kept it quiet. Kept it from Liam.”

Phil’s stomach drops like a stone.

“When you found out what?!”

“When we found out you two are together. I mean- or just fucking. Whatever it is you’re doing,” Freddie shrugs.

“But- how did you- why-“

“That’s not the point,” Violet chips in. “The point is, we kept it from Liam because we knew how he’d react.”

“So we are capable of keeping things,” Freddie finishes decidedly.

“Wait- rewind a second,” Phil shuts his eyes, his brain trying desperately to wrap itself around all of this. “How did you find out that me and Dan are-“

“I’m in English with Lia. Lives in your boarding house,” Violet says. “Got talking to her. Nice girl, she is.”

Phil feels sick. Oh god.

It’s not as if they were making it completely apparent, of course, but it’s just- their housemates have probably put two and two together by now. It’s not as if they don’t sometimes hold hands in the kitchen. And steal a few kisses in the corridor, or when they’re all downstairs watching something on the telly. And they’ve definitely fallen asleep cuddling under a duvet on the sofa in the lounge a few times; Phil’s sure of that.

“Great, so you were discussing my love life, were you?” Phil snaps back. “Who do you take me for; fucking Taylor Swift?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetie,” Violet scoffs. “It just came up in conversation, that’s all.”

“Why were you talking about it?” Phil demands.

“Like I said; it came up in conversation. There’s a difference.”

“Oh, do enlighten me,” Phil says.

“Well, we were talking about Shakespeare, and she says there’s someone in her house who’s fucking crazy about it. I asked who, and she was like ‘Dan. You know, the one Phil’s seeing at the moment’.”

Phil draws in a breath, ready to retaliate, but stops. Oh.

“And she was like, super apologetic when she found out I didn’t know, though, so don’t you dare take it out on her,” she adds.

“But the point is,” Freddie chips in. “We didn’t tell Liam about it.”

“We’re dickheads, Phil,” Violet says, breathing smoke into his face. “But we’re not stupid.”

This is ridiculous. He has no reason to believe this, no reason whatsoever, but he finds his stomach begin to unwind a little.

“Oh,” he gulps, caught somewhere between relieved, confused and actually quite pissed off. “Well, I er- okay-“

“You know something?” Violet says.

“What?” Phil asks, not really wanting to hear it.

“Between us three, I think you two make quite a cute couple,” she grins, but Phil has no telling of how genuine her smile is.

“Um- thanks?” he says a little uneasily. He’s already feeling an itch for another cigarette but he does his best to ignore it – despite not having a curfew anymore it’s getting cold and late and he really has to get back to his dorm.

“Don’t thank me,” Violet rejects his civility. “You’re still a twat, I hope you realise.”

“Just a twat with a cute boyfriend,” Freddie adds, and Phil would grin but there’s still a pinch of discomfort in his stomach about this, about this entire thing.

“Yeah, I um-“ he shrugs. “Well. Thanks for keeping your mouths shut, I guess.”

“It’s our pleasure,” Violet says, her voice a little bitter. “As long as you keep your mouth shut about us being out here, we’re good.”

“Yeah,“ he swallows. “I will.”

“You’d better,” Violet warns.

There’s a silence. Phil sighs, throwing a glance at Freddie. “Sorry. I know we’ve um- drifted apart and stuff, and-“

“Oh, give it a rest Phil,” Freddie interrupts. “We know you can’t stand us. And quite frankly, we’re not your biggest fans at the moment either. So let’s not pretend to patch things up, yeah?”

Phil frowns, a little taken aback. Sure, he hadn’t exactly been expecting them to join hands and skip off into the sunset, but couldn’t they at least be civil?

“Well excuse me for trying.”

“He has a point though,” Violet says.  

“Whatever,” Phil rolls his eyes, trying to pretend he isn’t a bit disappointed. “I’d better be heading back now, anyway.”

“Off you go then,” Violet dismisses him coldly.

“Alright then,” Phil widens his eyes.

“Say hi to Dan for us,” Freddie says.

Yeah, Phil scoffs. Like fuck will he tell Dan about any of this.

He leaves them both with a careful glare before turning his back to the forest, and-

“Oh, before I forget,” he digs in his pocket and pulls out something small, cold and hard. It glitters for a few seconds in the soft twinkle of the moonlight, but then he opens out his hand and lets it fall to the concrete with a clatter. “Give that back to Liam on your way in.”

And just like that, with thudding in his ears and adrenaline pooling in the pit of his stomach, he breezes out of the forest and back to the fences, back to buildings and blocks and amber lights.

The air is cold and his head aches and his chest is burning a little, and he’s trying to bury the feeling that begins to nag the pit of his stomach, the voice in the back of his mind suggesting he might have just made a big, big mistake.

-

“Have you been smoking?” is the first thing Dan asks him when he slides through the door. He’s wrapped up in bed, voice muffled by the pillow.

Phil gulps, sniffing his collar. Fuck, he was certain he put enough deodorant on.

“Yeah, I um-“ he gulps, not really seeing any lie he can spin to get out of this. “I was a bit stressed. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, I’m not your mum,” Dan huffs out a sleepy laugh. “Just make sure you brush your teeth for an extra minute before you get into bed. I’m not kissing an ashtray.”

Phil grins, putting down his bag and shrugging off his jacket, leaving it in a denim heap on the floor. “It was a one-off, though. I’m not like- addicted.”

Not true. His cravings are going to drive him up the wall tomorrow, but he’ll live. He’s sure he must still has some nicotine gum somewhere.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Dan says. “You reek.”

Phil throws him an apologetic glance and heads over to the bathroom, not really wanting to taint the sweet spicy scent of Dan’s room with his stale tobacco any longer. He takes his time with the toothbrush and swills around three capfuls of mouthwash and washes his face with a splash of cold water before heading back into the room. His heart sighs a little at the sight of Dan all curled up beneath cotton and memory foam, and he gives him a soft little smile before shouldering out of his uniform and into something comfier.

“Where have you been, anyway?” Dan mumbles when he slides under the duvet and into the space beside him. “I’ve missed you.”

“Hanging out with a few people from Maths,” the lie rolls a little too easily off of Phil’s tongue. “They were having a movie night at Jonathan’s, and- you know.”

“That’s nice,” Dan smiles to himself, sidling up to Phil under the covers. “What did you watch?”

“Deadpool,” is the first movie that comes into Phil’s mind.

“I’ve never seen it,” Dan says. “We’ll have to watch it sometime.”

“Yeah, we will,” Phil agrees, his fingers finding Dan’s hair. It’s still a little damp from the shower. “What have you been up to, then?”

“Nothing much,” Dan shrugs. “Cleaned your room a little bit. Talked to Mark about the keys. He’s impressed you’ve made it this far without losing another one, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him it’s only because you’ve been spending so much time in my room instead of your own.”

Phil chuckles. ��I imagine my room’s a lot easier to clean too. You know, without me in it all the time.”

“Who would have thought dating you would come with so many benefits?” Dan smiles, and leans up to press a gentle kiss to Phil’s cheek.

Phil’s heart leaps at that word. Dating.

“That’s what you get with dating me,” Phil says, testing out the word again and loving the way it falls off of his tongue. “The whole package.”

“Kinky,” Dan quips.

“Shut up,” Phil nudges him with his free elbow, and Dan giggles, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Play with my hair more,” Dan tells him. “I love it when you do that.”

So Phil does. His hands massage soft chestnut locks, his fingers curling around the longer, wavier parts of his fringe and around his ears.

He pulls Dan’s fringe back a little too far, and exposes a blotch of purple. Shit, he’d forgotten about the bruise there.

He gulps, feeling his stomach twist, and does his best to pretend he hasn’t seen it, gently brushing strands of brown back over to cover it. He doesn’t know if Dan notices, but if he does, he doesn’t say anything.

They lie there in a comfortable silence, Phil’s fingers in Dan’s hair and Dan’s hands tracing the sliver of exposed skin just above Phil’s waistband, just listening to each other’s breathing, before Phil’s grip on his thought filter begins to loosen and he lets something slip

“I gave the ring back to Liam today.”

The second the words pass his lips, he regrets it. He can almost hear the break of the mood, shattering like glass as it goes.

Dan stiffens beside him. “Really?”

“Not directly, of course,” Phil reassures desperately. “I did it through someone.”

“Noah?”

It’s easier just to say “yeah.”

“Fair enough.”

“I just- yeah. I wanted rid of it. I hated the feeling of knowing I still had a piece of him hanging around in my room, y’know?” he shudders.

“Yeah, definitely.” Dan says, still a little wooden. “Well. I’m, um- glad you got rid of it, anyway.”

“So am I,” Phil says, and they descend into another silence and fuck, despite the gentle softness of the sheets and pillows, this is really quite uncomfortable.

“Sorry I just-“ Phil begins after a while. “I didn’t want to- you know, ruin the mood or anything. I just thought you ought to know.”

“You haven’t ruined anything,” Dan reassures him, but there’s a little tremor in his tone. “Thanks for letting me know. I appreciate it.”

Phil sighs out a smile and rolls over until they’re nose-to-nose. He lies there for a second, taking a moment to drink in his appearance – the tanned curves of his features, the delicate point of his nose, his soft, plump lips and those big brown eyes that have seen far too much darkness. He leans over and presses his lips to Dan’s in a gentle kiss.

Dan pulls away after a few seconds. “I’m impressed.”

“With what?”

“I can’t taste a trace of smoke on you,” he says, pecking Phil’s lips again. “You really did listen to me.”

“Of course I did,” Phil mumbles between kisses. “You’d better appreciate it. I did mouthwash and all.”

“Brilliant,” Dan smirks, sliding his thigh over and shifting his weight until he’s lying on top of Phil. “And I do appreciate it, dickhead.”

“Then shut up and kiss me.”

So he does.

They lie there, Dan on top of Phil and Phil underneath Dan, their lips along with just about every inch of exposed skin locked together, intertwined underneath cotton and feathers. Phil combs his fingers through Dan’s curls and Dan’s fingers trace the soft curves of Phil’s sides.

Phil pulls him forward and presses a kiss to Dan’s neck, grinning when he hears the other boy gasp against his skin.

-

They lie there in a tangle of limbs, cotton and heavy breaths. A blotch of purple stains Dan’s collarbones. Phil’s hair is everywhere; crazy black tufts sprawled out over his forehead and his fringe and he’s pretty sure he looks an utter mess right now, but Dan’s been spending the past half hour looking at him as if he’s the most beautiful person he’d ever laid eyes on. He’d told him this multiple times too, albeit through ragged breaths and soft moans, and Phil had kissed him and stopped just short of letting three words slip past his lips.

“You’re the best,” Dan mumbles into Phil’s chest, swaying in and out of consciousness. The way he does this, the way he always croaks out sleepy mumbles right before he drops off, his guards down and his inhibitions invisible, makes Phil kind of want to cry. Not because of how adorable he sounds when he’s sleepy (although okay, that too), but because of the truth behind anything he says when he’s in this state. Whatever he says, he means.

“You are too,” Phil whispers, pressing kisses across Dan’s forehead in miniature pecks. “You really are.”

“You-…” he’s interrupted by his own yawn, “you… you’re so good to me.”

Phil finds himself giggling. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No one else was,” Dan mumbles against his shoulder.

Phil’s fingers find Dan’s hair. “Don’t think about that now.”

“You’re the first person who wasn’t a dick to me,” he mumbles. “Apart from Abbie.”

There’s a silence.

Phil frowns. “Who’s Abbie?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dan murmurs, but Phil feels him gulp.

“Right- erm…” Phil chews on his lower lip, studying the ceiling.

He doesn’t care to push the subject any further. Discussing the past with Dan is already risky enough, and Phil still feels eggshells cracking beneath his feet every time any mention of his past slips into conversation. He doesn’t want to make this any more troubling than it already is, doesn’t want to break the soft serenity of Dan’s mood now; he hasn’t been this calm for weeks.

“You’re great,” Dan breaks Phil’s train of thought. “Did y’know that?”

Phil gives him a wry smile. “Nope.”

“Well, you are,” Dan continues. “You’re-… you’re the best. You’re so- you’re so great and-… lovely and- everyone likes you. I like you, I like you a lot, and-“

“Just a warning,” Phil begins. “As much as you and I both know I adore your compliments, I’m pretty sure my head’s going to explode in a minute with all this hot air,” he chuckles.

“I like your head too much to ruin it,” Dan smiles. “I’ll shut up.”

Phil’s not too sure what Dan means until he feels the soft touch of fingertips moving along his back, drawing little patterns into the skin.

“That’s better,” Phil mumbles, kissing Dan’s shoulder. He feels the familiar tickle against his skin, relishing in every gentle line, every shape the other boy traces beneath his t-shirt.

HI

Phil smiles. “Hi.”

HOW ARE U

“I’m good, funnily enough,” Phil grins. “What about you?”

BETTER

Phil feels his heartbeat in his ears.

“Really?”

NOT TOTALLY

“Oh,”

BUT BETTER.

“Well,” Phil gulps, smoothing over the cracks in his voice. “Well, um- that’s good, isn’t it?”

Dan nods, his finger motionless for a few seconds.

HANK YO

“Shit.”

Phil frowns. “What?”

“I fucked up,” Dan smirks. “Let me do that one again.”

THANK YOU

Phil feels a pinch in his heart. He rolls over until they’re facing each other, nose-to-nose, brown-to-blue, before leaning down and sealing their lips in a fervent kiss.

They lie like that for another handful of minutes, limbs and thoughts tangled together, a vacant stare towards the ceiling, until Dan’s breathing begins to steady and his hand movements slow down. The letters become sloppier, more indecipherable, but Phil still tries his best to make something of them. He gets I LIKE YOUR EYES, something about his nose and the way his hair sticks up in the morning, and then there’s a few almost motionless moments, Dan tipping into unconsciousness, his finger moving but barely writing.

And then Phil freezes, Dan’s gentle touch burning into his back like an iron rod. Shit.

His heart is racing in heavy thuds underneath his pyjama shirt and it takes every scrap of his self-control not to move, not to wake Dan up, not to do anything except lie like a stone and try to make sense of what the other boy had almost written.

He can’t be certain of course; it’s pushing three a.m. and his brain is a tangled, sleep-deprived mess, but he thinks Dan might have just fallen asleep in the middle of tracing three little words into the small of his back.

-

“You’re doing that grin again.”

Violet narrows her eyes. “What are you on about?”

“You know. That grin you always do when you have a good idea. You’re doing it now,” Freddie says, shuffling up the bed. They’re sprawled out on the mattress together, staring at the ceiling and making their way through a 6-pack of cider, discussing just how much of a dickhead Phil had become upon cutting ties with them all. “Come on, what have you thought of?”

“Well,” she smirks, a glint in her. “Just of ways we can teach that little shit a lesson.”

“Who; Phil?”

“No, actually,” she says.

“Who, then?”

“Dan,”

“Dan?”

“I’ve been thinking,” she begins.

“About what?”

“About how pretty much all of the shit that’s happened this year stems back to him. I mean, the tags for a start; that Liam’s still having to deal with. Poor sod’s got two and a half months left of it, still. That on top of the fact he essentially took Phil away from us.”

“How?” Freddie narrows his eyes.

“Oh, come on. Think back. When did Phil start being all off with us?”

“Er-…” Freddie tries to kick his tipsy brain into gear. “Like- half a year ago or something? I dunno, I can’t-“

“Exactly. Which was right around the time the two of them started getting cosy, right?”

“I- oh shit, yeah,” Freddie realises.

“I think a lot of it is to do with him, y’know. I don’t know what he’s been doing to Phil, but he’s not him anymore.”

“Maybe he wiped his brain and microchipped him,” Freddie mumbles.

“Probably,” Violet snorts. “But I have an idea.”

“There’s that grin again,” Freddie’s eyes light up and he rolls over on the mattress, facing her. “Speak, woman. What are you thinking?”

“Well,” Violet begins, fiddling with the ring pull on the cider can. “We promised to keep Liam away from him, didn’t we?”

“Yeah?” Freddie frowns.

She smiles. “But we never promised him anything about keeping ourselves away from him.”

Freddie hesitates for a moment. Then he grins.

Feedback is always appreciated!! i hope this is ok i promise the next chapter wont be as long-coming xxx

[swearronchanel]

and my commentary continues: series 6, episode 2 (if this is now a thing idk what to title it)

You asked for it, my first class isn’t until noon tomorrow so I can sleep in & so, I complied Also the SAG awards finished at like 10pm so even after doing my night routine it’s still early haha here it goes …

- Oh shit I forgot color - ah I really like the new intro - Penny’s outfit is so cute - “Walk don’t run” stfu Sister Ursula this isn’t elementary school - “Have you lost your marbles bubsy” haha that’s cute - UGH I WANNA FIGHT THIS NUN - LET JULIENNE ARRANGE THE DAMN FLOWERS - This is when sister Ursula presses sister Monica Joan about the bon bons lol - “Unlike your sisters” guessing u don’t think u count - You’re damn right - Sister MJ sly af 😏 wish she was my grandma - Aw penny it’s ok sweetie all will be well - AlRight so where is St Cuthberts, is it closer than the London? Idk just wondering - I don’t care that much tbh - Damn this man gonna go blind how sad - I like knowing what happens when I’m watching bc I can’t take so much I get anxious - But are we not going to mention Patsy’s wig anymore? It’s still ugly, lucky emerald is beautiful anyway - - Ugh my bbys are still so hurt about the thalidomide 💔💔 - IT WAS NOT EITHER OF YOUR FAULTS - YES IT IS A MIRACLE PATRICK, YOU SHOULD’VE MENTIONED IT LAST WEEK but it’s all good - HE’S TOUCHING HER STOMACH AH - AND THEY KISSED Lmaoo I bet this will break Tumblr - UgH SUCH A SWEET MOMENT TO MELT MY COLD HEART - Jk this show has made me such an emotional mess, like I rarely ever used to cry or anything - But it could also be because of university diminishing my sanity - “We should really start telling people” - YEA PLS GIVE US A CUTE SCENE TELLING EVERYONE @ NONNATUS - - Buttt, I’m gonna guess it’s either going to be implied that they told them off screen or they won’t find out till she starts bleeding mid inspection ?? idk I’m just guessing, don’t come at me lmaoo - Patrick’s smirk “he’ll certainly understand” 😂😂 - SHELAGH’S CRINGING FACE I LOVE IT - YOU KNOW IM HERE FOR ALL CRINGEY EXPRESSIONS - Plus that’s my bby - - PHYLLIS SAW PATS AND DELIA - SHE KNOWS & IM GLAD IT WAS HER TO FIRST FIND OUT - - alright so let me be annoying real quick - From that clip from the casebook Valerie is problematic/lowkey racist & no estoy aquí para eso PERO I like her in the moment? - One, her outfit is cute - & B, she gets along well with my shelagh and seems nice.. I’m not gonna forget her comment though lol, so I’m going to stay neutral for now - - Ok the Marsh baby is born next - Lol sorry I love when sister Winifred is being cringey or funny but this was just kinda boring but I know it’ll get better later in the episode - BUT SERIOUSLY I WANNA KNOW SISTER WINIFRED’S REAL NAME - Idk why that was capitalized I don’t feel that strongly but I’m very curious !¡! - - Shelagh being all cute and cheeky giving those vaccinations - Penny is so sweet - - Alright this is so irrelevant but still, Shelagh is outside.. so Why would she throw up in a napkin in her hand? lol, all that open space 😭😂 idk I really hate throwing up and will not let my self throw up. Not even vlad can make me😷 - SHIT THAT EXPLOSION THO - what were they doing exactly? - like a bitch over here a lil confused :/ - MY LIL SUPERHERO SPRINGING TO ACTION YES BBY - shit George’s blind for good now it’s sad - and arthur’s gonna die damn - - look at disheveled Shelagh so damn pretty but I wonder when she got that cut lol - Lmaoo @ Valerie, so she knows the Nonnatuns - - Damn I’m only 17 mins in why do I talk so much shit to myself - Sister MJ sneaking that bread during sister Ursula’s prayer is me 😂 - I swear though if Sister Ursula tries to get rid of Sister MJ I will fight - My eyes roll every time this woman is on my screen - Phyllis chewing angrily is also me - “Travel visas there have been canceled” shit pats it’s too relevant right now - “I’m trifle deaf these days” PHYLLIS U ARE A GEM - Penny wins best dressed patient - - Patrick worrying is precious - SHELAGH TRYING TO HINT WHILE SMILING IS SO FUNNY BUT WHY - Lmao why are they acting like Tim is not literally right there? - Also this boy is 15 why is he not ever with friends - Of course he knew, he’s always around and isn’t dumb at all. He basically grew up around pregnant ladies tbh - “.. Good I don’t want to know any other details” lmao 😂 - I knew he’d be pleased but I lowkey wanted him not to upset or annoyed so he could have a good little story line - It’s not realistic that this 15 year old is so pleasant with his parents all the time - Like I was an angsty fright @ 15 - lol I’m acting like I’m old, I’m going to be 19 & I’m still like that^ with my parents a lot of the time - - Why do British people call bandaids “plasters”? Hm. I just think of plaster of Paris for like walls or whatever it’s used for - “I’m a slow healer” lol Shelagh is so precious - “If the baby’s a girl I’m moving out” I think it’ll be a boy. Actually Idk forget I said that - Don’t be nervous bby, speak up you got this - “That’s my girl” yes Patrick that’s our girl protect her at all freaking cost 😭 - I’ve gotten so far without saying “fuck” I’m proud - - “This is the dark before the dawn, but there is always a dawn” thanks sister I needed that - “I’ve committed a crime"😭😭 - I love sister MJ - also not gonna lie I cried a little the first time watching this - - Some mothers of color in the community centre makes me happy - Who’s the model though? 😏 - Someone find him & tag me - Ugh here comes sister “I ruin everything” - Honestly when is sister Julienne just gonna come out and say “you gotta go”? - No that’s not the way you do things - fuck yea sister J - “We must simply sit it out and wait for Churchill” - I HOPE THATS TRIXIE - BUT also I really want Sister Julienne to be the one who saves the day - Lol yea Babs your wardrobe should step it up but it’s okay - - Shelagh don’t be nervous you’re gonna kill it - Does sister Ursula even do anything? She doesn’t see patients does she? Nah she just makes everyone angry - Get up outta here - Lol I’m so Brooklyn for that - “Mrs Turner you look nice” - UM YES, MY BBY, her new dresses & coats slay - She finally took a break from the damn cardigans & I love it. Not that there’s anything wrong with cardigans but you catch my drift - Nah for real I wanted a fabulous wardrobe for Shelagh bc times are changing & Laura Main is literally gorgeous so she needs pretty outfits & got it I did - so here for it, now we wait for another pair of trousers. lets get it 1962 - this first dress had such jackie kennedy vibes, love it - - “Consequences be DAMMED” YES PATS - Phyllis and Sister J are proud, I really want one of them to press Sister Ursula - Look @ Delia actually being a nurse! - ah penny 💔 - - Shelagh’s so nervous at first but then is like YOU KNOW WHAT ASSHAT JUDGE - “Where is nurse Mount?” , “where she is needed” YES SISTER JULIENNE - love the blue coat Shelagh - “I’m not ill, I’m just tired and angry” same - Don’t cry bby - “Our best is worthless bc it won’t change anything” ugh crush my heart, especially that little hug. I need to hug them all - lol who invited Tom to the hospital - he’s so handsome though so it’s ok - TELL THEM, STAND UP - “We need to fight” yes ! - I was worried penny’s baby wouldn’t live - C'mon Pats be pc - okay patsy opening up, crushes my heart she’s so closed off but I feel - Here comes the wicked bitch of the east [end] - Whoops can I call a fictitious nun a bitch - YES PATS YES DONT TAKE HER SHIT - Aw patsy, you two will okay, I mean look sister Bernadette came back as Shelagh because of letters so you never know - - Shelagh’s baby blue outfit >> - she needs to go out in public more with her hair down and slay everyone’s life - “Not today.” Yes Delia - “You did it Mrs Turner, you made em listen!” - Yes tf she did. I’m so proud - the set makeup artist did a crazy good job with the burns - “We never really out grow our parents, we just think we do” aw I should call my mum and dad - mm maybe later it’s midnight lmao - DELIA SAID I LOVE U - I FEEL LIKE NO IMPORTANT COUPLE on here HAS SAID “I LOVE YOU” to each other ?? - They almost kissed aw - Fred just break the door damn - Reminds me a little of when Jenny left - Aw the Marsh fam - Phyllis you are gold - Phyllis is still learning Spanish, please give her an opportunity to use it! - the only Spanish speaking mother was conchita, wasn’t that the first episode ever? lets get another one - Anyway, this was so sad. - “The pain it costs to love..” PHYLLIS I LOVE You. You deserve everything good - Aw all the other mothers with penny! - Alright Lets hear it Vanessa - Aw Delia Bonus: preview for next week - my other bby Trixie is back !! - hope she loses her shit when she realizes sister Ursula is ruining everything + patsy/sister mary cynthia are gone - My bby Shelagh looks so pretty!💕 - BUT I KNOW NO ONE IS SHUTTING DOWN ANYTHING - I will not have it - Phyllis spilling the ever so obvious and boiling tea, sister Ursula is UNFIT - Pls let Sister Julienne say something crazy to her before she goes - Why is babs crying?? - ugh of course that’s the most of a preview we get - Nothing bad will happen to my bbys I won’t have it. Protect them at all costs or I’ll spontaneously combust - Jk but I might flip my shit or throw my laptop - But for real for Shelagh to miscarry 3 episodes in would be a waste of a storyline - Plus it is a drama, we’ll be shook for a while, then we’ll cry, we’ll laugh & then Vanessa Redgrave says something profound and we go on with the week - The End 🙃🙃 - If you read this far, you’re a champ - I did this for u all