#it feels like the first second third place situation

[study-core-101]

i cant explain, but an 8 is better than 9

[lieutenantselnia]

Besides numerous other drawing ideas I now already have 2 (maybe even 3?) self ships that I want to redraw this meme with😂

Please I need more time and motivation for art again😭

[isabelguerra]

i dont have an actual name for it but depressed college au is probably one of my favorites. i dont really care for the adults in paranatural and thinking about how the activity club/others might grow up and continue their lives is so much more interesting to me

[painted-bees]

A quick, sloppy little comic about Magritte

[OC's]

(image description under the cut)

[Image Description: It's a vertical comic strip of 14 panels arranged one under the other. The style is realistic, done with sketchy lines in a dark burgundy. It is not colored or shaded and there is no background. The comic features the interactions of a couple, Magritte (also called Margie) and Rafael (also called Raf). Magritte is a young woman, she is wearing a baggy armhole tank top with a tight fitting black top underneath, shorts and boots. She has a messy bun and a small messenger bag slung over her left shoulder. Rafael is her partner, wearing baggy pants, sneakers, fingerless gloves, V-neck t-shirt and an open button-up jacket with a hoodie and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair has short side with long top bangs and a short goatee.

 (First panel): There's only Magritte visible from the waist up. Off screen, Raf says to someone else: “Magritte has our tickets.” Magritte is excited, looking straight forward. Her left hand in on her bag's strap, her right hand rummaging inside her bag. Magritte says: "Yeah! Even made sure to put them in my wallet so that I wouldn't- uh..."

 (Second panel): She is beginning to look concerned, now with her face turned to her back, both left hand holding the lip to open the bag wider and her right hand still rummaging inside. Magritte says: "wouldn't forget.... Hang on, it's not on it's usual pocket. Haha." The last is a nervous laughter.

 (Third panel): Magritte is kneeling on the ground. Rafael is standing to the side and behind her, only his feet visible. Magritte looks frantic, searching inside her bag. Her right arm is forearm deep digging in her bag. Magritte says: "It's definitely here-! It's the one thing I never forget 'cus I never take it out of my bag!" Rafael says, firmly: "Margie, when you took it out to put the tickets in, did you put the wallet back in the bag?" The letters are bolded, with the word "back" underlined for emphasis. Magritte says: "Give me some credit, there's no way I'm that stupid." The last three words are underlined for emphasis.

 (Fourth panel):  The scene has changed and now Magritte and Rafael are in a car. We see them from the passenger's side. Rafael is driving, looking straight ahead at the road. Magritte is hunched forward, hugging herself with the left hand. Her right hand is holding her head. She is looking out the passenger window, avoiding Raf.

 (Fifth panel):  Rafael turns slightly to look at Magritte.

 (Sixth panel):  The point of view is now a side profile view from the drivers side. Rafael has his left arm leaning on the open window, his right hand on the wheel. Magritte is hunched over facing the passenger window. Rafael says: "I'm not mad at you, if that's what you're worried about." Magritte says: "I can literally feel your disappointment."

 (Seventh panel): Back to the passengers side, Rafael is looking at the road. Magritte is frustrated, no longer leaning her head against her right hand and instead her hand is palm upwards. Rafael says: "Well, yes. It is a disappointing situation, but-" Magritte interrupts: "You'd think I'd be able to do the one thing I was asked to do-! That I'd at least learn from the last billion times I forgot shit. Rafael says, quieter: “that's not where I was going with this...”

(Eighth panel):  Magritte has her right hand holding her face with the palm on her cheek, left hand placing the tips of her fingers on her left temple and eye brows. She is frustrated and angry. Magritte says: "It's not like I've got anything more important rattling around in my brain.  But, for some reason, if it's not my music, or like.... food or something, then it's just not a priority. I can't make myself care enough to make it a priority!"

(Ninth panel): She now has both hands in front of her, elbows bent, finger extended in a vague hand gesture as if there was something in front of her. Magritte says: "I'm an adult in my 20s and I still manage my responsibilities like a child. I'd be more dependable if I could just stop and think for a second, but I'd probably forget to even breathe if it weren't for the..."

 (Tenth panel): Her frustrated expression turned to confusion. Her hands are still in the air in the same position as before. Magritte says:"... why are we parked?" Her noticing this stopped her rant.

(Eleventh panel): Magritte straightens up and faces the window entirely, left hand crossed over her body to lean on the car door. Rafael, off screen: "Margie." Magritte says: "Oh." Magritte's inner thoughts are written around her. "He stopped the car to scold me. No, not ‘scold’. Don't be a child about this. He's disappointed and just needs to make sure you understand so you can do better next ti-"

 (Twelfth panel): Magritte is still looking out the window, but now with a shocked expression. Rafael reached with his right hand, and its now resting gently on her upper back. Rafael interrupts her inner monologue with "I need you to stop repeating the shit your parents and teachers and such yelled at you growing up. They were wrong, and nothing you just said makes sense."

 (Thirteenth panel):  The perspective switches back to the driver's side profile. Rafael says: "A poor memory isn't synonymous with poor priorities. Nor does it speak to a lack of maturity. The priority was there, we just have to build a better habit of checking things before we leave the apartment. Both of us. It's gonna take time. You afford everyone else a ton of patience, all the time. Can you please afford some for yourself? The situation sucks, we were both looking forward to this. But it's not the end of the world. We didn't forget things on purpose. So let's take it easy and try to end the day on a good note. Alright?" Magritte says: "Okay... c-can we um...."

 (Fourteenth panel): Magritte has turned to face Rafael and her eyes are filled with tears and they're running down her cheeks.  Rafael looks startled, lifting his arm off Magritte's back. Magritte says: "Can we get some ice cream on the way back?" Rafael says: "O-of course!" End of description.]

This description was written and provided by Hiwi.

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

every once in a while, suguru lets you have all the power.

down on his knees, he stares up at you with dark eyes; there's a grin plastered onto his face, the very same one that got him into this situation in the first place, and nothing that you're doing is making it go away.

(every once in a while, he lets you think you have all the power.)

his hands are behind his back with the material of his own tie digging into the sensitive skin of his wrists but he doesn't mind the pain. he loves it. the first few buttons of his dress shirt are undone and a few blooming bruises peek from under the garment. the contrast between his skin and the splotches of color are tantalizing, it's making your mouth water and your teeth itch – the need to add more to the canvas that sits before you is clouding your mind and he knows it.

despite being the one that's tied up, suguru continues to push your buttons.

he's insufferable. he's rude. he's fucking annoying.

he's gorgeous. he's beautfiul. he's fucking exceptional.

you want to hurt him. you want to kiss him.

and he knows.

his cheek burns a bright pink shade while the inside of your hand prickles with the most delicious kind of pain. strands of hair have fallen from behind his ears and are now keeping you from having his eyes on you and that won't do. slowly reaching out, you tuck it back where it came from, your fingers brush against his skin and you feel the warmth exuding from him. you press your tingling palm against his cheek and watch how he leans into your touch; the corners of his lips tug even further and he morphs into the wolf that he really is – his sharp teeth glint from behind the grin as his eyes narrow in on you. there's a comment, a sly tease, ready to fall from his tongue, you can see it so clearly—

a second slap echoes through your shared home.

the words dissolve in his mouth as he hums at you instead. his head is now turned away from you by an inch, the impact of your hand strong enough to actually do some damage. suguru bites down onto his lip while slowly cracking open his eyes, his gaze even darker now. he licks his lips and you catch sight of the little steel piercing that hides in mouth.

trying to win the silent battle of dominance, you tilt your chin up high but when you see suguru pressing his thighs together, you almost crumble entirely. he's so hard that even just the mere thought of his cock makes your mouth salivate.

you think about big of a mess he must be making under all the layers, you think about how full his balls are. you think about all the things he might do to you the second you untie him.

"don't tell me that was your worst, sweetheart... "

his voice is like something crafted perfectly just to make you weak in the knees, there's no resisting it. it's like honey, sweet and sticky, and—

a third slap.

you can't let him do this to you. this is your fucking moment.

his cheek burns brighter than ever, the ache under his skin shooting waves of pleasure all over his body and all he's willing to give you is another hum. it comes from somewhere deep within, desperately crawling out from inside him as if he couldn't contain it anymore. but it feels so good. it's so fucking good and he hates to admit it; he hates how he has no control over his body – his thighs press together all on their own, his brain focused on relieving the pain between his legs at any cost.

when suguru's head falls forward and he lets out a raspy laugh, you freeze. you can hear your own heart beat in your ears and you can feel the blood pumping in your veins.

and when he cranes his neck to peer at you from under his brow, you feel like you're going to faint. he's going to eat you, he's going to devour you. he's going to ruin you.

[nereidprinc3ss]

strange perfections

in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!

series masterlist

fluff! warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses

The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf. 

Stupid scarf, you think. 

Stupid door. 

Stupid wind. 

Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient. 

You look at the stack of papers and sigh. 

Stupid Lord Byron. 

Stupid cafe. 

Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly. 

One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable. 

Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust. 

Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance. 

Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once. 

Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café. 

As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk. 

It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor. 

Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here. 

“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up. 

“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”

The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you. 

“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”

You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that. 

Think of something normal to say!

“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”

You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.

“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”

You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?

“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”

He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing. 

“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”

Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?

But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out. 

“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”

He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles. 

All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go. 

Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone. 

“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot. 

“How did you do that?” 

His cheeks turn slightly pink. 

“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”

“How did you read that fast?”

“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”

You scoff, taking another look through the stack. 

“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”

The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently. 

“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble. 

“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”

“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look. 

“Does that make it better?”

“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”

You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels. 

“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second. 

“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”

“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”

He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself. 

He was totally in love with me. 

And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again. 

All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while. 

The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it. 

I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café. 

What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi!”

Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout. 

He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer. 

Spencer. Spencer. 

It feels important. 

“I see you’ve upgraded.”

“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”

“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”

“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away. 

Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you. 

Spence. 

Reality sets in. 

“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”

It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk. 

“I am a creature of habit.”

Another wave as he walks away. 

The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way. 

“Who was that?” 

“Uh… I don’t actually know.”

Yeah. Reality definitely sets in. 

Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up. 

Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality. 

Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.

But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character. 

He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination. 

This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression. 

“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”

 Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading. 

Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more. 

“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”

You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?

While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table. 

“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin. 

“Uh… hi?”

“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”

“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”

That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real. 

“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”

“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”

“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”

What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—

“Garcia!”

Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed. 

Adorable? Get a grip. 

“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”

“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges. 

You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?

“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.

“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”

“Yeah! Um, definitely!”

“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”

“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”

“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley. 

Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents. 

So that’s cool. 

You’re cool with that. 

Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer. 

“Hotch?”

“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers. 

“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet. 

Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again. 

You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it. 

Nah. Boys are dumb. 

You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it. 

It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?

But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone. 

He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line. 

Weird.

You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?

“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”

It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it. 

He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second. 

“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”

“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”

“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”

“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”

He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless. 

“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”

It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long. 

“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”

“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”

Your brow furrows and you laugh. 

“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”

“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”

You say it before you can think too hard. 

“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”

And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid. 

After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice. 

One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.

It ceases. And then it starts again. 

Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible. 

“Do you think you should…”

His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air. 

“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”

You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company. 

But his job is important. 

“What if you have a case?”

“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”

Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.   

“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”

As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present. 

“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”

Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer. 

You balk.

“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”

“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”

“Where would this hanging out take place?”

Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits. 

“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”

He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly. 

“Restaurants.”

There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.

“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”

You look down. God, your face feels warm. 

“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”

Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now. 

“I would.” 

More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted. 

Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair. 

“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”

“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”

Spencer chuckles. 

“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”

Not, what?

Not, you’ve never been on a date before?

Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?

With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way. 

He says none of that. 

“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards. 

“Sounds like a good first step.”

Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real. 

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.

“I’d love to.”

He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair. 

“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”

His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute. 

“I should—”

“You definitely need to go.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”

You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper. 

“I don’t—”

“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”

He’s so weird. 

A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go. 

-

part four

[xxsabitoxx]

Competition | 15k Special

Sanemi x Giyu x AFAB Reader

Warnings: MxMxF threesome, pussy eating, raw fucking, 69-ing, 69-ing while fucking, come eating, creampies, squirting, the usual

A/N: Alright here's the first 15k 3sum special! Up next is Sato/Sugu~

Word Count: 2.8k

You weren’t sure how you ended up in the position you were in now, but you were fairly certain it wasn’t your fault. Though, the two men you were pressed between would likely beg to differ.  Drinks with the two men turned into talking, which turned into flirting, which also turned into bitching with one another before finally you were dragged back to Sanemi’s home. Something about settling “who's better” once and for all. “Oh fuck…” Your head fell back against a muscular shoulder as the man situated between your thighs brought you your third orgasm. 

“Giyu… please e-ease up!” you gasped, hips bucking upwards and into his face rather than away from it. He didn’t answer of course, mouth far too preoccupied with lapping at your cunt. “Don’t stop, Tomioka. I want her to be nice and sloppy when I impale her on my dick.” You gasped, nails digging roughly into the muscular thighs that caged you. It was a dead lock position, you couldn’t get away from either man if you wanted to… not that you would want to in the first place. 

Your back was pressed snuggly to Sanemi’s front, his arms wrapped around you just under your armpits, toying with your breasts every so often but he was too enthralled watching Giyu eat you out. Sanemi’s legs caged you in, pressing to your hips tightly while Giyu had your legs thrown over his shoulders. He had been settled between your legs for who knows how long now, nipping, sucking, and licking your cunt until you couldn’t see straight.

“Sanemi please, do something to me.” You whined, nearly delirious from the pleasure Giyu was providing you. The white haired man, who had been so damn cocky, was leaving you hanging because of how much he enjoyed seeing Giyu eat your pussy like it was his last meal. “Do something to you? Huh, Tomioka mustn't be doing a good job if you’re still thinking about me.” He drawled proudly, calloused fingers rising to roll your perked nipples between them.

You yelped, hips bucking into Giyu’s face as he continued to lap up every drip of arousal that you offered. It only took a second for his hands to find your abdomen, pushing you down and forcing you back into submission without saying a single word. “Fuck almighty…” Sanemi sneered, watching as Giyu’s nails dug into your thighs to keep you still. “...I bet I could fuck you stupid right now, sweetheart, and he’d still have his head buried down there… pussy drunk bastard.” 

Sanemi couldn’t deny the way his cock was twitching, pressed snuggly to the warmth of your back and getting some friction each time your hips bucked upwards. Still, it wasn’t enough, especially when Giyu was slurping and grunting so loudly he was making him believe your pussy was a five course meal. Nothing seemed to deter the ravenette between your thighs, not even Sanemi’s typical smart ass remarks. “Giyu.. fuck you’re gonna make me cum again…” 

He only grunted, blue eyes flickering up to meet yours. The look on your face was enough to have Giyu rutting his hips into the mattress, trying to alleviate some of the pressure that was throbbing dully between his thighs. Giyu’s eyes met Sanemi’s next, a look of fucked-out bliss passing over his navy irises, as if taunting Sanemi. The other man didn’t really appreciate that, the spike in his annoyance manifesting physically as he kneaded your breasts. 

You cried out, the added stimulation throwing you over the edge for a fourth time as your thighs quivered. You could feel it now, how wet the sheets were just below where your ass pressed into them. Drool mixed with arousal created quite the unfortunate mess, though none of you really seemed to mind it. “Alright, fucking ease up you prick.” Sanemi scolded Giyu as tears began to leak out of your eyes, far too gone to actually say it for yourself. Giyu finally gave in, parting from your cunt with a shiny mouth and chin. 

Giyu pushed up, surveying the damage to the sheets as Sanemi manoeuvred himself out from behind you. “Don’t even think about it.” Sanemi practically growled as Giyu moved to crawl over you, eyes meeting in a heated stare as if he couldn’t believe Sanemi thought he could order him around. “I just made her cum four times, Shinazugawa. I don’t think you have any room to talk.” Sanemi huffed out an unamused laugh, grabbing a fistful of Giyu’s hair before roughly yanking. 

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking too like that, Tomioka?” You watched them, holding yourself up on your elbows as both men stared at each other. Their faces were inches apart, despite the position he was in, Giyu still looked pretty defiant. “I’m talking to you, Shinazugawa. Once you make her cum four times, you can try and act like we’re equals.” He spat, not backing down as Sanemi gripped his hair a little tighter. Instead of saying something in return, Sanemi smashed his lips to Giyu’s. You gasped, watching as Sanemi’s tongue pushed past Giyu’s lips. 

Before Giyu even got a chance to properly respond, Sanemi was pulling away. “She tastes fucking sweet and you were hogging her.” Giyu only smirked, one that faded quickly when Sanemi pushed him away. “It’s your turn to sit and fucking watch.” Giyu couldn’t fight that, moving to the other side of the bed to give Sanemi plenty of space for whatever it is he wanted to do. He stood at the side of the mattress, smiling gently at you. “Do you think you could get on your hands and knees in front of me, honey?” The nickname made you squirm, nodding to do as he asked. 

You crawled across the mattress, turning yourself to face Giyu as you got on your hands and knees. Sanemi smirked, uttering a soft “good girl” as he lined himself up with your entrance. “Tomioka made a fucking mess of you, I can go right in.” You whined out a yes, not interested in anymore foreplay when your cunt was practically throbbing with the need to be filled. You had prepared yourself for him to be rough, instead, he pressed into you slowly. 

You moaned as the dull head of his cock impaled itself in your cunt, pushing further until you enveloped it completely. He stayed still, panting softly as your walls suctioned and spasmed around the little bit of him that was inside. Giyu had to admit that Sanemi had far more self control than him, he wouldn’t have been able to hold himself back if the roles were reversed. Sanemi gave you another second before pushing more of himself in, watching you pull at the sheets until they were taut under your grasp. “Good, you’re doing so good.” 

It didn’t hurt, Giyu had truly made a mess of you, it was too wet between your thighs to hurt. There was, however, the familiar stretch, an achy feeling as Sanemi pushed more of himself inside of you. “Oh…” you whined, unable to stop your hips from jerking away from him. “Don’t try to run from me, sweetheart.” He cooed, pulling you back to him with one swift motion. It pulled the air from your lungs, pleasure ebbing through your veins as he pushed himself inside. 

Inch by inch, Sanemi could feel everything, the way your cunt clenched tightly around him before trying to push him back out, if you weren’t suffocating him so tightly, he would have chuckled. “Fuck… yeah you wouldn’t have lasted five seconds inside of her, Tomioka.” He wanted to sound cocky but his voice came out strained, forehead creasing as he bottomed out. “You sure about that, Shinazugawa? You look like you’re seconds away from blowing your load.”

Sanemi tilted his head just a bit, eyes roaming over the way Giyu was gripping his cock tightly. He would have made a remark about the way Giyu’s precum was already leaking over his fist if you didn’t clench around him.All he could muster was a quiet groan of “fuck off” as he tried to calm his breathing and not make a fool of himself by coming too fast. You, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to wait as you started to try and fuck yourself on him.

 It took a fraction of a second for Sanemi’s hands to find your hips, gripping them so tightly to keep you from moving that it genuinely hurt. “Oh fuck…” you hissed, relishing in the pain as your walls squeezed him tightly. “S-shit sorry I did-ha-didn’t mean to.” he let go almost immediately, shaky hands rubbing the skin he had hurt tenderly. You relaxed, head pressing into the mattress lazily as a shiver passed over you. “Mmm s’alright.” you slurred softly, any ounce of resistance or burn was gone, all that was left was throbbing need. 

“I need you to move, Nemi.” You couldn’t get his whole name out, settling for the cuter nickname instead. A low gasp left him, the self restraint he had was wearing dangerously thin. “You sure?” he choked out, hips already drawing back slightly before rocking back into you. You nodded, moaning out a quiet “please” as he took the initiative and started rutting into you, head falling back as he relished in the drag of his cock through your velvety walls. Giyu watched, lips parted as his fist started moving up and down his length in time with Sanemi’s thrusts. 

You didn’t have the strength to keep your head up, letting it fall forward, dangling a bit as you looked down your own body to see Sanemi’s hips meeting your own. His thrusts were deep and fast, making your breast jiggle each time your bodies made contact. “Tomioka, quit fucking your fist and make yourself useful.” That caught your attention, head lifting slightly to look at the man sitting by the headboard. “Useful?” he gasped out, squeezing his length tightly as you moaned.

“Yeah, useful.” Sanemi held his gaze, eyes flickering down to your cunt and back up at Giyu, hips stuttering as he nodded his head a bit. Giyu seemed to catch on, letting himself go to crawl forward. “You want me to…?” He questioned softly, face heating up as slick squelches started to sound each time Sanemi’s hips met your ass. “Don’t make me–ha–spell it out for you.” Giyu could see his lip tremble as he bottomed out again, hips rolling into you slowly now. 

Giyu pulled his attention away from the other man, eyes meeting yours with a lazy grin. “Do you think you have the strength to hold yourself up for a second, baby?” You whined at the name, walls squeezing around Sanemi’s cock. “Oh? She liked that, Tomioka.” Sanemi’s hands held your hips a little tighter, supporting you more as you forced your head upwards “Go ahead.” you smiled at Giyu, butterflies whirling around your stomach as he moved to lay beneath you. You shivered as he bent down, kissing you quickly before eyeing Sanemi. 

You sunk your teeth into your cheek, Sanemi had sheathed himself completely inside of you, watching as Giyu got himself comfortable under your body. Giyu’s breath fanned across your abdomen, earning a shiver as he pushed himself a little more. You knew he was there when his hair tickled your inner thighs. If it weren’t for Sanemi being buried deep inside of you, your thighs would have tried to close. “Fuck… Sanemi start moving.” Giyu breathed out, shocking Sanemi a bit by using his first name. He listened regardless. 

The quick thrusts of Sanemi’s hips grounded you in reality, head turning downward. Giyus cock was inches from your face, tip flushed pink with precum oozing from it. “Ah fuck…” You let your arms relax a bit, weight shifting to lay on Giyu as his hands found your waist. You took the chance, lowering your head to lick along his shaft. Giyu’s mind went blank the moment he felt your tongue, stuttering just a bit as you wrapped your puffy lips around his irritated tip. 

He started placing open mouth kisses along your cunt, brain melting with each pass of your tongue over his slit. Sanemi’s pace had faltered, eyes watching eagerly as you started to go down on Giyu, all the while he was maybe a little too aware of Giyu’s head below him. Giyu’s tongue managed to continue lavishing your clit even as Sanemi held your hips, rutting into you at a new brutal pace. You felt your eyes crossing, squeezing them shut as you moaned around Giyu’s cock

Drool was seeping down your chin, covering his shaft and public bone with your shiny saliva. You lowered your head further, trying to ignore the build up in your gut as you took over half of his length in your mouth. Giyu’s moan vibrated against your cunt, earning a shrill whine from you as your walls clamped down around Sanemi’s cock. He cursed loudly, hips stuttering in their pace because you made it impossible to move for a moment. 

“Gonna fucking cum, aren’t you?” Sanemi’s words were directed at both of you, even though he knew both of your mouths were too preoccupied to even respond. You swallowed around Giyu, earning a strangled cry against your cunt as you felt him start twitching. Reaching forward, you gently cupped his balls, warm and heavy in your hands. For a moment, Giyu swore tears were burning his eyes as the pleasure he felt only intensified. Your mouth was suffocatingly warm, the silky-soft touch of your tongue was almost too much for him. 

And then you went and cupped his balls, massaging them gingerly until his hips were bucking up into you. The sound of your gag was enough to make Sanemi curse, hands gripping you tightly as he pounded into you with such force that your thighs and ass recoiled harshly. Everything was too much, not only for you but for Giyu and Sanemi as well. It took a fraction of a second for Giyu to lose it, cum spilling down your throat in hot, sticky ropes. You flinched, throat relaxing to keep yourself from gagging again as you worked him through his orgasm. 

 The sounds he was making continued to vibrate you. Your own orgasm built up until the dam finally broke, a strangled cry leaving your lips as your head tossed back, letting go of Giyu’s cock in the process. Both men were covered in your release, sticky and wet from the gush of fluid that left you. You cried out, tears streaking your cheeks as Sanemi’s hips thrusted into you, chasing his own release. You couldn’t breath as Giyu’s hands reached under you, pushing on your abdomen, feeling the way Sanemi’s cock dragged in and out of your slippery cunt. 

That was enough for Sanemi, his head falling forward as a silent cry left his lips. Your arms had long since given out, head now resting on Giyu’s thigh as Sanemi pumped you full of his own release. The room was quiet now, full of ragged breathing as you tried to lift yourself enough for Giyu to get out from under you. “Fuck almighty.” Sanemi choked at the sight of Giyu’s ruined appearance. The man was covered in your release, hair and all. You turned your head the best you could to see him, face turning molten hot as you realized what you had done to him. 

“Oh fuck Giyu I’m so sorry…” you tried to move but Sanemi’s hands kept you in place. He wasn’t ready to let you move yet, not even as he was softening instead of you. “Don’t be sorry.” Giyu’s face was bright red, lips swollen from everything he had done to you. “… I kinda like it.” That revelation had all of you looking away from one another. “If that’s the case… I want to try it out for myself.” Sanemi stated boldly, eyes still trailing over Giyu before switching to look at you. 

“You think you could last another round, sweetheart? I wanna try out Tomioka’s position.” All you could do was give a feeble nod, that same throbbing desire building in your gut as you felt Sanemi hardening within you again. He pulled out, creamy release following him. “You really made a mess.” it was an off hand comment as he eyes the shiny ring around his base. “Like you don’t fucking like it sloppy, Shinazugawa.” Giyu snorted, trying his best to not let you know his legs were feeling weak after everything you just did. 

“Woah wait…” you started, sitting on your knees to look back over your shoulder at the two of them. “Don’t I need to tell you who was better? Isn’t that why we ended up here in the first place?” You just wanted to tease them, watching as both men shared a glance. “We’ll worry about that another day, for now just let us fuck you.” Sanemi groaned, moving onto the mattress and nearly collapsing. “Nah…” You chuckled “I think it’s safe to say I am the better one.” Considering both men were feeling like their legs were made of jelly, you were likely right. 

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

My thoughts about the Trump assassination attempt

After having a few hours to process this whole thing and see reactions from across the political spectrum, I'm having some thoughts and some feelings.

First off, as I said earlier, Trump is a fucking boss. Take anyone who ran for president in the last 20 years, put them in that exact situation, and I don't think a single one responds by raising his fist and snarling in defiance and righteous anger. They run. They cry. They keep their heads down and the first statement you h ear from them is hours later filtered through 20 different speech writers. Today proved to me that, whatever else he may be, Trump is a genuine bad ass. He's exactly the person I want at the end of a sword pointed the United States. Because he's going to have a sword of his own pointed right back, and he's not going to run and hide when it comes time to use it.

Second, the modern left is full of monsters. The amount of people screaming and crying because this assassination attempt failed actually sickens me. It's one thing to have fantasies about easy solutions to the things that scare you. Hell, I'm not innocent. I've thought about how much better things might be if this politician was no longer around or this activist group got axed. But one of the things I did today was think about how I would feel if the assassin succeeded. And then I thought about how I'd feel if someone took a shot at Biden and he didn't survive. Neither thought gave me any good feelings. Obviously I'd be more upset if Trump died, but today showed me that I don't want us to start down the path of shooting political leaders. But too many people on the left, people who should know better, at least enough to hide their true feelings, have no problem publicly wishing Trump was dead right now. That assassinating presidential candidates was a legitimate tactic--but only against the politicians they don't like, of course.

Fuck that.

Fuck them.

America is better than that. Americans are better than that. We're not some third world shithole like Mexico. We're the greatest country in the world. We're the last bastion of representative government. The last place in the world where freedom exists. And it's time we started acting like it.

Third, I ain't got no time for conspiracy theories. Sorry guys, but this wasn't staged and this wasn't a CIA hitman. Unless real, hard evidence comes out otherwise, you won't ever get me to believe any of the nonsense I've seen floated around. Don't be so lost in the true things the media has dismissed as "conspiracy theories" that you immediately jump to the most conspiratorial explanations first for everything that happens. It's lame and cringe and a lot of people I've seen seriously putting these theories forward should know better. I know we're in our emotions right now, but keep your heads.

Fourth, my heart breaks for the families of the people who were hit with the bullets meant for President Trump. But that's the kind of evil we're facing. Whoever did this decided that the idea of a Trump presidency was so awful that they were okay with shooting innocent people just to stop him. And this is after he was already president and none of the things the media is fear mongering about happened during his first term. Those people just wanted to see a man speak. To have some hope for the future. And some piece of shit shot them because he didn't like a presidential candidate. Or worse, because the TV made him scared.

Fifth, fuck the media. You think you hate them enough, but you don't. The media is the driving force behind our enemies, and there's no such thing as a good journopig. They're all lying propagandists. We just like some of them because their propaganda occasionally hits on the truth.

And that's all I got. None of this is organized, none of this is proofread. These are just the thoughts I've been wrestling with for the past few hours. This is the only place I can get them all down without being interrupted or feeling like I need to censor myself. Do with them what you will.

[annabelle--cane]

this is a difficult thing to have conversations about because it provokes really strong reactions in people for completely valid and understandable reasons, so please feel free to hit da bricks on this post whenever you want, but I do want to try and analyse the jonmartin slaps. we get three across 160, 169, and 172, and a line addressing it in 173, and then it never happens or comes up again. none of them come out of nowhere, and they mostly fly under the radar until 173 because they all broadly fit the "slapping someone out of a trance in an emergency" trope, but each of them slowly decreases in urgency.

the first time, the apocalypse starts up and martin comes back to find a passed out jon, can't wake him by making noise, and strikes him in a panic. this makes sense, this is a man who has entered a supernatural coma before and martin had no idea what was going on, so of course he'd jump to something desperate.

the second time, they're in a burning building, jude arrives while jon is still mid-statement, and when making noise doesn't work martin slaps him out of it. this makes sense, they were there for jude and if jon didn't come back to himself then she likely would have hurt them, though martin knew that her powers against them were limited.

the third time, jon is getting pulled into into a repeating statement instead of coming out on his own like usual, so martin speaks once or twice to try and get his attention, and then slaps him out of it. this... again, it makes sense, jon was getting trapped, but there was no immediate peril like before, martin just got freaked out and wanted to leave quickly. he seems to get that it was harsh because he apologizes for it, but they don't linger at all, martin just starts in on them having to leave immediately.

the last time it's mentioned is when they're on night street, during what is one of their most intense arguments. jon tries to talk about the suffering of the children there for longer than he needs to in order to make a point, martin cuts him off, and he pointedly says, "thank you for not hitting me this time." it never happens or is brought up again.

to our knowledge, jon doesn't say anything about the slapping until 173. he's not a guy who's known for speaking up when things upset him, he was amiably working with daisy within about a week of her trying to kill him, so it makes sense that he would just sit with this comparatively more minor thing. however, I do think it's relevant to note that, at this point in their relationship, martin will sometimes voice his feelings and boundaries (not listening to statements, not consenting to mind reading, worrying when jon expresses discomfort with his body), while jon doesn't. from the couple of times he does talk about his feelings this season, I think that tendency comes a few places: he has a hard time being aware of his emotions at all, he doesn't know how to evaluate his emotions' importance in comparison to others', he assumes his emotions are obvious and thus people already act with full knowledge of them, and the topic is just hard to make himself talk about. from what he says in 173, I think the slaps bothered him the entire time, but he made himself be fine with it until he was upset with martin for unrelated reasons and finally let it out.

as for martin's side, I do not think the slaps came from any kind of suppressed desire to hurt or wield power over jon. we've seen him when he's angry at jon, this isn't how he acts, he gets shouty and indignant but never violent. I'd even go as far as to say he doesn't do it in 173 because he's genuinely upset at jon and the situation they're in, and it would never occur to him to deliberately inflict pain on someone he cares about to assert control over them. the connecting line between all of them is fear from something that he wants jon to help him handle. the apocalypse starts, he is stuck inside one of his worst nightmares, and he's paranoid that the web took control of him. he's someone who is "always following, never leading" (170), and he gets tunnel vision when something scares him and his "leader" isn't there.

jon did need to be pulled out of all three of those situations, and words proved insufficient, and maybe a quick jolt of pain was the only thing that could have worked, but martin doesn't seem to consider what that would feel like from jon's pov. in my experience of relationships, if there's ever an unavoidable emergency where you do actually need to cross a line that you never would otherwise, you talk about it afterwards. you do a debrief where you say "I'm really sorry about that, I didn't see another way, I'll try and be better prepared next time." they do this for problems they have later on (177, 198), but martin doesn't do that here. jon's point-of-view just doesn't seem to occur to him. when jon expresses discomfort, he drops the tactic without a word; later, when he needs to anchor jon in the panopticon, he talks him through it before it can get too far. so, it's not about a lack of care for jon's feelings.

I think it comes down to a few things: a) his occasional tendency to treat people as a means to an ends and not think about their perspective. he's so glued to putting others first most of the time that when he stops, he can't find a middle ground and forgets that other people can have feelings about his actions. b) his problems with conceiving of himself as a person of any importance who is capable of doing anything, especially of doing harm. as a concept, "hurting jon" is the thing he would least like to do in the whole world, it is his nightmare scenario and literally the culminating moment of his tragedy. he finds it almost unthinkable, so the idea that he does it casually when he's scared doesn't cross his mind. one of his central worries at this point is that jon is now so powerful that he no longer needs martin, how could he hurt someone like that? he's not anywhere near a comparable level of importance, it's not like he has his own domain that he's not aware of because jon told him about it and he immediately rejected the information. he's powerless and could never bring himself to hurt the man he loves.

I just. think it's an interesting microcosm of some of the lows of their relationship. once the problem is discovered martin instantly takes the note and doesn't put it on jon to explain himself further or assuage his guilt, they are willing and able to adapt, but it still comes from some of their bedrock flaws. martin doesn't understand that he can hurt people, and jon has such an inflated understanding of his capacity to hurt people that it sabotages his self-worth and his ability to respond to pain and displeasure.

[pastryfication]

love at first fire | lando norris

part of the love at first . . . series

you’re jolted awake by the shrill scream of the fire alarm, cutting through the silence of the night like a knife. groggy and disoriented, you sit up, heart racing, trying to make sense of the sudden chaos. it takes a moment for the reality to sink in—the alarm is real, and you need to get out.

you fumble in the dark, grabbing the first things within reach: your phone, your keys, a hoodie you pull over your sleep-rumpled hair. the alarm continues its relentless wail as you slip into your shoes, barely managing to shove your feet in as you head for the door.

the hallway is a blur of movement, neighbors rushing out of their apartments, eyes wide with panic and confusion. the air is thick with the scent of smoke, faint but unmistakable, urging you to move faster. you join the stream of people heading for the stairs, your mind racing as fast as your feet.

outside, the cool night air hits you like a splash of water. you’re on the street now, along with the rest of the building’s residents, all of you looking up at the structure that’s been your home, now alive with flashing lights and the distant sound of sirens. the alarm is still blaring, muffled but persistent, a constant reminder of the danger you’ve just escaped.

you’re shivering, partly from the cold, partly from the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. you pull your hoodie tighter around yourself, scanning the crowd, searching for familiar faces, but mostly, just trying to calm your racing heart.

and then you see him.

at first, it’s just a face in the crowd, someone standing a few feet away, hands shoved into the pockets of a jacket, dark hair tousled as if he’d just rolled out of bed. which, you realize, he probably has. his expression mirrors your own—confused, a little dazed, and clearly not expecting to be outside at this hour.

your heart skips a beat. he notices you looking, and for a split second, your eyes meet. you feel a jolt, like a current running through your body, something electric and undeniable. it’s not just recognition, it’s something deeper, something that makes the world tilt on its axis, leaving you momentarily breathless.

he takes a step closer, his eyes still locked on yours, and you realize he’s coming over. your mind races, searching for something to say, but all words seem to have abandoned you, leaving you with nothing but the sound of your own pounding heart.

“crazy night, huh?” he says, his voice warm and tinged with a hint of a smile, as if the situation isn’t entirely unwelcome.

you manage a nod, still struggling to find your voice. “yeah, not exactly how i planned on spending it.”

he chuckles, and the sound comforts you. “same here. didn’t expect to meet anyone at this hour either.”

there’s a pause, the kind that should be awkward but isn’t. instead, it feels like a moment suspended in time, something fragile and precious that neither of you wants to break.

“you live here?” he asks, nodding toward the building behind you.

“yeah,” you say, finally finding your voice. “third floor.”

“me too,” he says, and there’s something in the way he says it that makes you wonder how you never ran into him before. “funny how we’ve probably passed each other a hundred times and never noticed.”

“guess it took a fire alarm to bring us together,” you say, and you can’t help but smile.

he grins back, and for a moment, the world around you fades—the noise, the people, the flashing lights. it’s just the two of you, standing in the middle of the street in the dead of night, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

“maybe we should do something less dramatic next time,” he says, his tone light, but his eyes serious.

“i’d like that,” you reply, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the fire.

you can’t shake the feeling that there’s something familiar about him, something you can’t quite place. but it doesn’t matter, not really. what matters is the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only person in the world, like this is a moment that’s meant to be.

and as the two of you stand there, you start to talk—about the building, about the chaos of the night, about everything and nothing at all. he’s easy to talk to, and you find yourself laughing despite the situation, the tension of the night melting away.

it’s not until the fire trucks arrive, lights flashing and engines rumbling, that you catch a glimpse of something that makes you pause. one of the firefighters does a double-take when he sees him, and then, as if realizing who he is, offers a small, knowing smile.

you glance back at the guy standing next to you, your heart skipping a beat as the pieces start to fall into place. the familiar face, the way he carries himself, the recognition in the firefighter’s eyes—it all clicks.

he catches your expression, a small smile playing on his lips. “you just realized, didn’t you?”

you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment. “i . . . yeah,” you admit, unable to keep the smile off your face. “you’re lando norris.”

“guilty,” he says with a grin. “but let’s keep it between us, yeah? at least for tonight.”

and just like that, in the middle of the chaos, you realize that something has shifted, something new has begun. it’s not just the fire that’s burning—it’s the start of something between you and lando, something that feels like it was meant to be.

and as you stand there, side by side, lando’s hand slowly reach in down to intertwine with yours, you know that this is a night you’ll never forget. the night everything changed. the night you met him. the night of love at first fire.

[emisloves]

A FRIEND LIKE HIM ✦ N.RK

pairing: bsf!riki x fem!reader

genre: best friends to lovers

warnings: mixed signals, mutual pining (but not very obvious), jealousy, kissing, forced (?) making out, fluff

word count: 2.6k

a/n: looks familiar? i had posted it on @/emi-en, my previous blog. this was also my first attempt at fluff, so it isn't my best work. i am not very proud of this one.

You truly were grateful for having a friend like Riki.

From when you guys met back in second grade, when he shared his bento with you after finding you crying on the rooftop, since your mother forgot to pack you lunch, right up to your high school years, when he holds your hand to make sure you don’t get lost in crowds.

You really were grateful for him.

It's just that– sometimes you wished he wasn't so– confusing.

It was the third time this month. The third time a guy had come up to you to ask you out, before stuttering and backing up at the last second. The reason? Why, it's Riki of course.

He was always with you. Everywhere. He almost never left you alone, especially with a guy. His excuse was always the same whenever you confronted him about it.

“I just don't want to leave you alone with them– you know how some people can be when they don't get their way, right?”

It frustrated you beyond measure. But you understood his intentions. The last time you were alone on your own with a guy that wasn't him– didn't end very well.

Long story short, you had once managed to evade Riki and gone to the rooftop all by yourself, where you coincidentally met another classmate of yours. Said classmate was fairly nice, leading you guys to have a long conversation with each other– before he started being creepy.

Just before he could actually try anything, Riki found you guys. He took one look at your uncomfortable expression and the other dude’s face, immediately making an excuse about how you were both late to your after school tuition, quickly wrapping an arm around your shoulder and taking you away from the guy. So yes, in a way, you understood his protectiveness.

But this wasn't it. There were so many more things about him that confused you to no end. You see, he likes to give you mixed signals.

“Now what would you need my hair tie for?”

Riki scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Well– you know– look, all my friends wear one on their hand, okay? I also want one–”

You stared at him, unamused. “All of your friends also have girlfriends. They wear their girlfriends’ hair ties on their hands. You don't have a girlfriend. By wearing my hair tie, you would be basically saying that I am your girlfriend.”

He groaned. “Who cares what they think? If I want to wear your hair tie, I will. Now stop complaining and give me one.”

You sighed, taking a hair tie out of your pouch and handing it to him. Riki was persistent, you knew he wouldn't stop bothering you until you gave in.

To any passer-by, it would seem like he has feelings for you, right?

Wrong.

“How do I ask her out?”

You stopped chewing the end of your pencil momentarily, looking up from your work, surprised. You weren’t aware of Riki having a crush. “Who?”

Hei shook his head. “Doesn't matter, just tell me how I should ask a girl out. In a way where she absolutely cannot reject me.”

You raised a brow at him. So he had a crush on a girl, who he desperately wanted to go out with, and he decided you were the best person to ask for help from. Was it normal for you to feel hurt in a situation like this?

You shook off your stupid thoughts, before thinking deeply. “Well– you need to make it special and memorable for her.”

He stared at you cluelessly, causing you to stifle a groan. Must you teach him exactly how to ask a girl out?

“Maybe get her favorite flowers. A big bouquet of them. Don't ask her directly to be your date, make a special speech for her, the more emotional, the better. Remember, background also matters. If you do all that at some stupid place like a parking lot or something similar– prepare to get rejected.”

Riki slowly nodded, processing all the information. “Right– thanks a lot, dwarf.”

You gave an offended gasp. Dwarf? After you tell him exactly how to get a date without fail, he insults your height? Again?

You weren't even that short. It's not your fault he decided to keep growing until he was practically a giant– towering over not just you, but almost everyone in school. No wonder he is the Basketball Team Captain– but that's beside the point.

Do you see how confusing he is now? Well, guess what? There is more to it.

Riki always holds your hand in crowds, claiming you're ‘so short you can easily get lost, or worse, kidnapped.’ You had taken great offense to it the first time he said that, refusing to talk to him for two days– before he brought you ice cream at your house, causing you to finally cave in.

Since then, you haven't complained again. If Riki wants to hold your hand in crowds to ensure your safety, who are you to complain? Especially when his hand feels so warm and comforting against your own– but he doesn't have to know that.

Today was no different. Both of you were outside, having decided to hang out together for the entire evening, eating at different food stalls without any adult supervision. The streets were more crowded than usual, prompting him to hold your hand the entire time. The only times he left your hand was when the two of you stopped at a stall to eat.

As the evening rolled by, the streets got less and less crowded. Riki still hadn't left your hand.

It was already eight pm now. There were barely any people around– five people, give or take? That isn't considered a crowd, right? Then why was he still holding your hand?

You suddenly stopped walking, causing Riki to stop as well. He turned around, tilting his head and looking at you curiously. Noticing your silence, he finally spoke. “Why did you stop?”

You bit your lip, before snapping at him. “Why didn't you stop?”

He blinked, looking utterly baffled by your sudden outburst. “What do you mean by that?”

You rolled your eyes, before lifting both of your intertwined hands in front of his face. “This. You said you will hold my hand when we are in a crowd to prevent myself from getting lost– does this look like a crowd to you?”

Riki blinked, before opening his mouth, as if to say something, only to close it again. After ten extremely slow seconds, he spoke. “I just– like holding your hand– it feels nice–”

It was your turn to be stumped. Was it his life’s mission to make your heart flutter? You could only hope he didn't realize how red you were–

You snapped yourself out of the weird thoughts, mentally scolding yourself. ‘He doesn't like you like that, he is planning to ask someone else out to prom– stop overthinking his actions.’ That's what you always told yourself. Because, at the end of the day, he was just your best friend, and it’s normal for best friends to act this way– right?

You realized how stupid you looked just standing and staring at him, after he confessed to your hand feeling nice to hold. You cleared your throat, before speaking again. “Right– let's just go home now. It's pretty late anyway.”

One thing was for sure. You most definitely had a crush on Riki. The only problem? He is your best friend, there is no way you're ruining your friendship with him over a stupid crush that probably won't last.

You were wrong. Your feelings towards him did not fade away. Instead, they seemed to intensify, carving into an ugly jealousy whenever he looked at another girl or vice-versa. No matter how hard you tried to suppress your feelings, you couldn't help but look elsewhere when such an event happened, clenching your jaw or subtly rolling your eyes. Only, you weren't as subtle as you thought.

Both of you were on your way to the lockers, school having just ended. You were putting your books inside, while Riki waited for you beside your locker. Once you were done putting your books away, you closed the locker door, turning to him. “Alright I’m done let’s g–”

You stopped speaking, witnessing the exchange between Riki and another girl. The girl smiled at him and handed him a chocolate, before speaking. “Your last Basketball match was really fun to watch! You play really well, Riki. No wonder the coach selected you as captain. I will be there in your next match, wearing a jersey with your number to support you! Good luck!”

The girl smiled again, before walking away. The entire time she spoke, Riki was smiling. You couldn’t help the jealousy that flared in your chest at their interaction.

Riki looked at you, his smile dropping at your expression. He frowned at you. “What happened?”

You tried to neutralize your expression. “Nothing. Let’s just go home.”

He shook his head, fully turning towards you. “It doesn’t seem like it’s ‘nothing’."

You rolled your eyes, turning on your heel and starting to walk away from him. “As I said, it’s nothing. So drop it.”

Riki sighed, his shoulders slumping at your cold tone. He trailed behind you like a kicked puppy, not saying anything else.

The two of you lived in the same neighborhood, so both of you always went home and came to school together. Both of you always took a shortcut, a some-what creepy alleyway, in absence of which it would take an extra half an hour to travel.

Today, as you were walking through the same alleyway on your way back, you suddenly felt a tug on your hand. You turned around, to see Riki pulling you by the hand. “What happened?”

He didn’t let go of your hand. “We are alone now. Tell me what happened back there.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to shrug off his grasp– in vain. “Nothing happened. Let go of my hand.”

He was starting to get pissed off by your stubborn attitude. “Either you tell me now, or we stay here till you decide to stop being childish.”

You glared at him, harshly trying to tug your hand out of his grasp. “What is wrong with you? I just told you nothing happened, didn’t I? Let go of me–”

He tightened his hold on your hand, giving it a harsh tug, pulling you towards him. You gasped, stumbling forward, into his chest. He held you tightly by the waist, leaving you no room to escape. You put your hands on his chest, trying to push him away, in vain. “What the fuck–”

He glared at you. “Do you know how annoying it is when you decide to be such a stubborn bitch? I asked you nicely about what the actual fuck your problem was, didn’t I? However, it seems like you don’t understand anything when you’re spoken to nicely. Will you speak up now, or will I have to force an answer out of you?”

You scoffed at his audacity. “Are you threatening me now?”

He poked his inner cheek with his tongue. “If threatening you is what it takes for you to finally speak up, then yes, yes I am threatening you.”

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him. You pushed him with all your strength, causing his grip to loosen, taking the chance to immediately run away. He was shocked at how you suddenly broke free, before shaking off his surprise and immediately running after you. His long legs caught up to you quickly, holding your wrist and harshly tugging it. You gasped, stumbling, causing him to quickly catch you. He slammed you against the alley wall, pinning your wrists above your head. He leaned down to be face to face with you. “Will you speak up now, or are you going to keep being stubborn?”

You looked at him, shock written all over your face. Your face hardened almost immediately. “Fuck you.”

His gaze sharpened. “Fine then. I didn’t want to do this but you left me no choice.”

Before you could come up with another sassy reply, Riki suddenly smashed his lips against yours, causing you to freeze.

The kiss was nothing like what you had imagined before. It was harsh, as if he was trying to punish you non verbally for not answering him. You didn’t reciprocate his kiss, keeping your lips firmly sealed. You could tell he was starting to get frustrated, but you still didn’t kiss him back.

He was starting to get pissed, letting go of your wrists to hold your waist in one hand, your jaw in the other. He bit down on your lip, drawing blood, causing you to gasp. He could care less about your discomfort, sucking the blood off your lip. He tilted your head with one hand, deepening the kiss.

You finally kissed him back, slowly bringing your hands to his shoulders. His kiss became a lot gentler, his grip on you loosening. After what felt like an eternity, you both finally parted.

He rested his forehead on yours, both of you trying to catch your breath. “Will you tell me what’s the matter now?”

You gulped, before sighing. “Nothing really. I was just– jealous.”

He frowned, lifting his head. “Jealous? Why so?”

You bit your lip, looking down. “That girl– she was talking to you and all you did the entire time she spoke was smile at her.”

He smiled slightly, lifting your chin. “It was only common courtesy.”

Upon seeing you continuing to sulk, he pressed a small peck to your lips, before speaking. “Besides, she isn’t the one that I’m kissing right now, is she?”

You went red in the face, praying he didn’t realize how hard you were blushing, before a thought struck you, causing your mood to sour again. “Why are you kissing me anyway? You shouldn’t do things like this casually just to get an answer out of someone.”

He laughed in disbelief, before pecking your cheek. “Remember when you told me exactly how to ask out a girl so that she wouldn’t be able to reject me in any circumstances?”

You slowly nodded. “Yea? What about it?”

He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, I wanted to ask you out that way. A big bouquet of lilies and daisies, talking about how we met, how I felt about you at that time, when was the first time you made my heart flutter, how I got jealous of all the guys that tried to ask you out– all of it at the rooftop of our school, where we first met. But none of that matters now right? Since you already know how I feel.”

The entire time that he spoke, you listened to him, your eyes were open so widely that they looked like hearts. You smiled once he was done. “I had forgotten to add another thing. None of that matters if the girl you’re asking out is into you already.”

He looked baffled for a few seconds, before his eyes widened in realization. He smiled so wide that it started to hurt his cheeks. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, one that you gladly reciprocated. When you both broke apart, he leaned his forehead on yours, a small smile on his face. “This might not have been how I planned to confess, but I’m glad it happened this way.”

You smiled, kissing his cheek. “I’m glad too.”

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki x reader (fem)

a.n; i blame this completely over the Olympics, again. sorry, but it has me on chokehold and i'm not resisting against it LOL 😜

Okay, hear me out...

Third date with Bakugou Katsuki.

The first one, of course, was very awkward and tense and sometimes even a bit worrisome. We are talking about dating Bakugou Katsuki, the one aggressive and violent Pro Hero that everybody has a hate-love feeling towards for; because the man looks and acts –and can– step on your head and crush it with malicious intent and yet, he's Nº 2 Pro Hero on the ranks and you just know that if he's around, you are completely safe. But he's big and tough and harsh in his talking and walking –how can anyone look that scary by just walking, you're still wondering, but it's real. He's fucking scary.

The second date was way more relaxed. He cooked for you. In his massive penthouse that probably costs more than your annual salary. Yep, morherfucker is rich rich. And you think he deserves it really. After all the troubles he goes through to keep the whole country safe –and even the world–, he completely deserves it. You just forgot how well he does his job to get to be that rich. You don't care about money though. You're dating him because you saw him helping a granny cross the street and that was the cutest thing you ever saw. So, back to the second date, he cooked for you, and damn... now you can say you'll keep dating him because of his food. Man cooks like the gods, like a fucking professional chef of the most expensive restaurant on earth. And also, you noticed how relaxed and in peace he looked in his own environment and he looked. So. Freaking. Attractive. Hot even. He looked just so... deliciously handsome.

So for the third date, and because he picked the second one, this one was of your choice. You decide to go ice skating. And you did not expect what happened at all. 

One would expect that Pro Hero Dynamight, civilian name Bakugou Katsuki, being who he is, would have exceptional balance and even a hidden talent for this. You’re wrong. Everyone is wrong. The second the blades of his skates touched the Ice Rink, he fell. Your eyes opened wide and you definitely were holding back your laugh as he struggled to get himself up by holding the handrail around the rink.

“Need some help?” You asked, getting close to him with no trouble at all. He looked up at you annoyed, struggling so hard to get up and keep his balance that his cheeks turned pink. How. Freaking. Cute. You’re glad that dating the Pro Hero came with its perks –like closing the whole rink just so only you and him are there, enjoying your date on a late wednesday night.

“Shut up. No, I can do it…” He declared, but another fall on his knees made you giggle while sliding backwards and away from him with ease, hands up in surrender. Katsuki looked at you once his stood for the nth time holding the handrail like dear life with a frown on his face, watching you how easy you made it look, “How the fuck are you doing that?”

You giggled again, amused by all of this situation. Sliding back towards him and extending your hands, you said, “Come one, let me help.”

Katsuki buffed but he placed his hands on yours, whole body trembling, barely holding himself up. The image of him sticking his ass up and body bending forward while his feet barely moved made you laugh out loud and he yelled another “shut up!”.

You changed your grip to his forearms and again slid backwards to make him move forward, his legs still trembling and his eyes never leaving the floor. He looked so cute, it made your heart flutter. The smile never left your face as you spoke again, “I used to skate a lot when I was younger. I even prepared myself to compete, but an injury put me out of the game.” 

He immediately looked back at you at your words, “What happened?” He looked curious, but also worried and kind of sad.

You shrugged, “I landed pretty badly over my right leg after a spinning jump once. After that, the shin splints became unbearable and I couldn't continue…” 

He looked down at your leg, watching you move attentively, “Does it hurt now?”

You shook your head and smiled at him, grateful for his worry, “Naah. It would only hurt badly if I tried to skate the way I used to… Guess I demanded a lot of myself back then.”

Katsuki didn’t comment further on, but he kept his attention on your leg. Didn’t that make him even cuter! 

It took you a while –long while– to finally be able to let go of one of his forearms once he was ready on his balance; his other hand still held yours strongly.

Time went by, both of you laughing and smiling while skating around the rink, hand in hand. You’re so happy that you could stand on the ice again. It brought you so many fond memories of when you were a kid. Skating was the only thing that could easily make you smile just because; the wind in your face made you feel free, content. and Katsuki could clearly see that.

For a moment, he got distracted by how beautiful you looked… and he lost his balance again. This time bringing you down with him. He was fast enough though to catch you and make you land over him. Your amused and loud laugh was contagious, so he couldn’t help but smile. He's having fun –even if he knew his body was going to hurt a bit the next day for how many falls he had.

“You’re so clumsy…” You laughed, joking kindly and funny.

“Oh, yeah? Then why don’t you show me what you can do?” His smirk made you suddenly stop laughing. It’s a clear challenge, yet curiosity shined in his eyes.

“Alright, hero… watch and learn,” you helped him stand up and directed him towards the handrail. 

Once he was away from possible harm, Katsuki watched you skate around the rink as if you were flying, gliding around with so much confidence and ease, as if you were made for it. Your hair floating behind you for how fast you were going, dancing beautifully with the air. He was hypnotized. Completely mesmerized by each little form you decided to enlighten him with. He particularly felt fascinated when you decided to spin fast and so many times he couldn’t count how many, then you stopped like it had been nothing and kept gliding around. 

You looked so nice and professional, Katsuki felt a little pang of pity for the world. It would never be able to share how beautifully perfect you looked at the moment.

A few more glides around, until you stopped in a very experienced way right in front of him, a huge smile on your face and a shine on your eyes that were proof of how immensely excited and happy you felt.

Did katsuki say already how fucking beautiful you were?

Just to prove his point, he instantly grabbed your face and kissed you for the very first time.

And fuck, he planned on keep kissing you as much as you would let him.

He let you go for a moment just to say, “That was beautiful… You’re gorgeous.”

You smiled one more time before sliding your arms around his neck to kiss him again. He moved a bit to surround your waist with his arms…

And that’s when he forgot about the handrail and sent you both again towards the floor.

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ keep this drive to just us two | fushiguro megumi

wc: 2.7k

summary: megumi is a liar, but there’s a reason for all this.  

contains: f!reader in mind but can be read as gn!, college!megumi, pre-relationship stuff, feelings, some swear words

a/n: happy birthday to our boy ♡ set in the same universe as this megumi fic (so a ~kind of part 2); some songs that inspired this & ones i imagine playing in the car: the shining by the neighbourhood, paradise by chase atlantic, & over the moon by the marías

part: 1 | 2 | 3 series m.list: by your passenger seat

It’s just you and Megumi on a late night drive—a quarter past 11 p.m.

The passenger seat has long since been adjusted to you, his car a somewhat second home. There’s that characteristic reverb accompanying the deep bass of the music he listens to, and his knee is bobbing to the beat of it, like it always does when the music is good. 

Megumi’s car always smells of mint, a fresh, crisp scent that cuts through—an accurate depiction of the man: level-headed, cool. A sharp honesty exists in every word he speaks; it’s the only way he knows how to be.

Except, maybe, lately. Like this moment.

Megumi’s a liar right now. 

He feels a little guilty for it, tricking you into coming out tonight. But how bad can it be to invite you under the guise of it being from Yuuji? 

“Yuuji said he’ll meet us there?” you settle into your seat, dragging the seatbelt across your body before locking it into place. 

Megumi shifts the gear to drive, nodding as he turns the wheel to get out of the parking lane. He can’t trust himself to speak. 

The ride is quiet save for the music, a comfortable silence he seems to only have with you. Nobara and Yuuji like to talk, to fill in the empty pockets of air he never feels the need to. You—you adjust, read the room; you become what the situation calls for all on your own. 

That’s what he likes about you, among many other things—he’s stopped lying to himself about that, at least. 

The streets whiz past you in a blur, both vaguely familiar and unrecognizable. There’s a fast food joint your group of four frequents as a post-party drive-thru, and the holiday lights are strung up on lampposts lining the sidewalks. 

Yellows, reds, and greens melt into one another as the backdrop of your window. But all Megumi sees is gray—

When he dislodges his phone from the stand clipped to the AC vents at the center console, handing it over so you can control the music. His eyes stay locked on the road until he feels it, the slightest brush of your fingers against his.

He turns to you, a quick glance; you’d shrugged off your puffer jacket some time during the drive and tossed it to the backseat, leaving you in this right now.

—the gray sweater that he knows all too well; that you haven’t returned but you wear like it’s yours, as if this piece of him is something you’ve chosen to keep. 

It looks better on you, anyway, he thinks.

He turns back to the road, breathing a little quicker, grip tighter and knuckles a bit whiter. 

If he listens carefully, the comfortable silence between you hasn’t actually been all that silent lately. A constant beat’s been drumming in his ears, exacerbated only every time you’re near. You’ve locked eyes far too often for two people sitting in a car, driving from point A to point B, and this isn’t the first time your fingers have brushed, nor is it the second, or third (or even fourth if he’s thinking about the technicalities). 

He finds himself smiling too easily when you speak, the corners of his lips aching by the time he’s dropped you off on the way home. You’ve looked at him fondly too, a handful of times, when you think he won’t notice; but it’s impossible not to when he’s paying just as much attention—from the corner of his eye, in his periphery. A responsible side-glance that inconspicuously catches everything. 

There’s something between you two, and he’s grown more confident of that the more he’s accepted his fate:

He likes you.

It’s why he called you tonight, out of all nights, in the first place. 

Aimless driving can only be so convincing up to a certain point, and that point comes fast approaching as Megumi is about to pass the same street for the third time. You don’t notice because you’re queueing songs on his phone, but he has to think of a diversion—just something to tide him over past midnight. 

“I’ll get us some snacks,” he signals to the left, pulling over to a 7-Eleven. 

“Oh!” you look up from his phone, swapping it for yours, “I’ll ask Yuuji if he wants anything. Did he mention if Nobara’s coming?” 

Megumi freezes, panic setting in—if you message Yuuji now, you’ll realize that he’s been lying. He holds his breath, shifting the gear to park before pulling at the edges of his sleeves.

Think. 

“He’ll eat anything, it’s fine. Nobara probably won’t come too. Wouldn’t pick up when he called.” 

For someone who always puts things bluntly, he’s surprisingly good at coming up with lies right now. 

You hum, nodding, “Okay. Do you want me to go down?” 

“I’ll be quick,” he shakes his head, fishing around the center console for his wallet, “you want anything?” 

Then he looks at you, your head tilted to the side as you think. A little pout causes your lips to jut out and he can’t help it, how his eyes fall to them, shiny in the way only your lip balm can make them. 

“Maybe something warm?” 

Your voice snaps him out of it, but the moment is frozen—like he’s been caught red-handed. He’s so sure you saw him staring, your eyebrows shooting up, flustered while watching his gaze shift from your lips to your eyes. 

He doesn’t expect it when you do the same thing. 

It’s freezing outside and his lips feel chapped; he wonders if they’re cracked, if you’re studying the grooves of split skin—if he should buy lip balm by the counter, on the way out. 

He looks away, clearing his throat, one hand to the door handle. 

“Okay,” he opens it, “turn up the heat if you’re–”

You nod.

“Yeah, okay.” 

He steps out. 

The cold is biting as he tucks his hands inside his pockets, rushing to get into the convenience store. 

(You watch his back retreat from the window of his carseat, and the influx of cool air should make you shiver, but you feel warm, heat rushing to your cheeks. 

This whole night has been confusing; the subtle touches and lingering gazes—ones like just moments ago, especially. Being alone with Megumi lately has been both comfortable and nerve-wracking; you have feelings that you aren’t quite sure are reciprocated, no matter how much Nobara teases the both of you already. 

You can’t take it; you need a buffer—where is Yuuji? 

11:41 p.m. 

< are you otw already? we just went to grab some snacks

You wait, fingers tapping on the back of your phone. 

11:42 p.m. 

yuuji 🍡

> huh?

> otw where? 

> who’s we?

> i’m outside fushiguro’s rn! with gojo-sensei!! apparently he surprises him every bday…

> you should come! you live near right?

You scrunch your eyebrows, confused. There are too many thoughts in your head right now—has Megumi been lying? 

11:43 p.m.

< oh ok, i probs misunderstood!!

< and i’m out tonight, idt i can make it but lmk how it goes!!

You’ve never known Megumi to be a liar, but he’s definitely in it right now for some questioning.)

The 7-Eleven doors swing open, revealing Megumi with his shoulders shrugged up to his ears, hands deep inside his pockets as a plastic bag hangs around his wrist. He opens the car door, immediately settling in his seat before shutting it. 

He still won’t meet your eyes, fishing through the random snacks he bought instead. It’s awkward, the air in the car tense; and it takes the biggest guts in him to look up as he hands over the warm bottle of tea he got you, just like you wanted. 

It’s even worse when you’re staring right back, expecting—almost like you’re about to confront him. 

“Be honest,” you start, eyes squinting. 

Shit. Sweat forms at his palms as he blinks, the beat drumming in his ears intensifying. 

“Did you bring me out here to murder me?” 

He raises an eyebrow, expecting you to convict him for lying, “The fu–”

Which you do, bringing your phone up so he can read. Your text chain with Yuuji casts a white light over his face, his eyes darting from side-to-side as he scans each message. 

(You aren’t mad or anything, just even more confused than you already are; some clarity would be nice, once and for all. 

Embarrassment is painted on his face the more he reads through your phone screen, lashes entirely too long as it bats against the tip of his cheeks; a faint pink blooms on his skin, like winter peonies.) 

There’s a reason for all this. 

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath; he’s dreading having to open them—do you think he’s weird now? That he had some ulterior motive bringing you out? His jaw clenches at the thought—

But then you laugh, a soft chuckle that accompanies the ‘click’ of your phone turning off. And when he takes a peek, squints one eye to catch a glimpse, you’re smiling; your lips are pressed together with the corners curled up slightly, as if you find this entire thing funny. 

The tension dissipates, but he frowns, eyebrows scrunching as he considers whether he wants to be the reason for whatever it is you’re thinking. 

“Stop it. Don’t make fun of me.” his head turns to the side. 

You chuckle again, biting your bottom lip, “You’re just too cute.”

A beat.

(It slips out before you can catch yourself, heat rising to your cheeks. Megumi isn’t doing any better; his ears are flushed red, crawling down to the sides of his neck as he swallows.) 

The plastic bag crinkles on his lap, cutting through the silence. 

How can you just… say that? 

You clear your throat, “So, uh, did you know about the surprise?” 

(Your eyes shift to the corner of the infotainment system, 11:52 p.m. in white.)

He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he leans back on his seat. 

“Gojo-sensei tries to surprise me every year, I didn’t think he’d call Itadori this time.” 

“You sound like that’s a bad thing…” you tilt your head, curious. 

He pauses, staring ahead as he considers his response, “Not bad… just,” his fingers fiddle with the plastic bag, “too loud, sometimes.”

(Megumi’s mentioned a bit about this ‘Gojo-sensei’ guy, his kind-of-mentor slash benefactor since being orphaned with his step-sister at age 6. You’ve never met him, but Yuuji never stops talking about how fun he is, how cool. 

It makes sense why Megumi finds him a bit much, if anything.)

“And you think I’m any better?” you snort offhandedly, joking as you turn to the side, facing him. 

He tilts his head towards you, leaning back on the headrest; your eyes lock for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifting subtly before he looks away, straight ahead again. 

If he had the courage, he’d tell you that you’re the only company he wants to spend this birthday with—

That there are songs in his playlist he’d otherwise never listen to, but repeats and repeats and repeats because it reminds him of you;

That he looks forward to doing deep cleans on his car every weekend, but has started to dread it once he noticed that it washes away your scent from the Fridays that he drops you home; 

That he’s a liar because he really likes you, but can’t find the words to tell you.

So he doesn’t say anything, shrugging. 

The silence is telling. 

(You feel too warm, whether from the heating system or from the implications of this moment. The 11:58 p.m. on the clock adds a pressure that it shouldn’t, an almost taunting presence that tells you if you act now, tomorrow could be very different. 

Are you reading the signs right? 

Should you just say it? 

Each second drags on twice as long, and you think—

Fuck it.) 

“Megumi?” your voice breaks through softly. 

The plastic crinkles on his lap as he turns to you. 

He could be any other place right now.

But he’s chosen to be here, with you, parked outside a 7-Eleven, minutes before midnight. 

“If I tell you something, will you be honest with me?” 

He blinks before humming, nodding. This is the least he can do after today’s blatant lying. 

There’s an intensity to your gaze that makes him nervous; your fingers tug at the edges of his (your) gray sweater, a piece of him you’ve taken with you. Then you speak—

“I like you,” you say it plainly, unblinking, “and I need you to tell me if you don’t feel the same.” 

—and you take the rest of him too. 

12:01 a.m.

He stares at you, turning the confession over and over in his head. He’s always had a feeling but it’s different when it’s out in the open, when it’s from you and isn’t based on some gut-feeling. 

There are so many things he can say, but you did ask him to be honest—to tell you if he didn’t feel the same. 

“Do I stay quiet if I do?” he mumbles, cheeks deepening into red. 

There’s a smile he’s trying to hide, one he won’t allow himself to let out until he gets one from you too. 

You visibly relax, releasing the breath you were holding. Your lips curl up instinctively, wide and infectious—that feeling of your heart bursting. 

“Smartass,” you scrunch your nose before glancing at the time, “happy birthday.” 

When you look at him this fondly, there’s not much else he can ask for, really. 

.

You eat the snacks in his car (an exception—whether it’s because of you or his birthday, you’re not sure) and tell him that your actual gift is back home, sitting in dog-patterned wrapping paper by your entryway. 

The drive back is, for the most part, the same—lingering gazes when the stoplight permits, a brush of your fingers when you hand him his phone after queueing songs. You’re wearing his sweater and his car still smells like mint. 

But you both can’t stop smiling. 

And when he drops you off, he’s tempted to tell you to stay longer for just one more song, but he figures there’s lots of time for that now. So instead, he grabs your puffer from the back, gets down and rushes over to open your door, helping you out. 

He holds up your jacket as you slip your arms into it, zipping it up so you stay warm and toasty. Cute, he thinks, when your grin reaches your cheeks; he could pinch them, would you complain if his fingers are too chilly? 

Your hesitance is evident in the way you bite your lip, but you go for it anyway, diving in to land a soft kiss to his cheek. It happens so quickly, it barely registers to him—the touch of your lips to his skin. When you pull away, you look shy.

He doesn’t say anything, heat rushing to the place you’d kissed. You take this as a sign to go ahead, so you move, but he can’t—

—can’t let you go just like this. 

Not when he’s been thinking about those lips since he last laid his eyes on it. 

It’s reflex, the way he grabs your wrist, pulling you back to him. He lets go immediately, hovering, but his eyes drop dangerously, down to your lips—shiny and plump from the lip balm he knows you carry. 

His breathing quickens and he asks so softly, “Can…”, he gulps, nervous, “Can I?” 

You nod, humming. 

(When Megumi leans in, long lashes fluttering over your eyelids, you think, this can’t possibly be real. But then his lips slide over yours, cold but not cracked, and you move yours against them, gentle in the same way he is.

His fingers slot themselves at the edge of your jaw, palm pressed to your cheek; it makes you shiver, how cool it is, but it warms up quickly.) 

The kiss is over far too soon (you think so, too), and when you part, you’re beaming, a twinkle in your eyes that makes him want to kiss you again, if only to keep them shining the way they do. 

It’s the end of the night, but the beginning of something new and Megumi’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the noise; this constant beat drumming in his ear is all he can hear now, swiping his tongue over his lips to taste mint—your lip balm of choice.

thank you note: to everyone who was just as excited abt this as i was—@soumies @mysugu @augustinewrites @mididoodles @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @selarina @pastelle-rabbit @mymegumi @kagelun @irisintheafterglow & @shidouryusm for making me see that paradise is so megumi 🥺

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[babyleostuff]

HURTS SO BAD | CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

summary | seungcheol calls you clingy in front of the rest of the boys

genre | angst & fluff

word count | 2k

pairing | choi seungcheol x gn!reader

authors note | if you have any svt requests feel free to write me 🫶🏼

It was the third time today your call went straight to voicemail. If not for Jeonghan’s messages that Seungcheol was at the practice, you would have thought that something happened to him.

This whole situation was very odd, Seungcheol usually picked up your phone calls, and even if he didn’t, he would always send a text saying he would call you back as soon as he could.

“Maybe it’s just a tough practice session,” you thought.

They had been practicing hard for the last couple of weeks, some of them locked up in their studios and the rest working on the choreography, spending most of their days and nights at the HYBE building.

Not dwelling on it much, you packed your bag and left for the boys’ favorite ramen place. You could bet they didn’t have a lot of proper meals during that time, so as the caring partner and friend, you took it upon yourself to take care of those hard-working boys.

As you got into your car and started the engine, you noticed the dark clouds looming overhead. The next second the patter of raindrops began lightly on your windshield, gradually increasing in intensity.

“Great,” you thought. “Of course, it had to start raining now.” Even so, you gave up on going back home for an umbrella - you just wanted to get the boys the food they needed and finally talk to Seungcheol.

As you pulled out onto the road, the rain only intensified, and your hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as you concentrated on the crazy traffic you got into.

After a while, you safely parked the car before the restaurant and quickly ran inside, shielding yourself with your jacket as best as you could. Or Seungcheol’s to be more precise.

He never minded when you were stealing his clothes, always making sure to tell you how adorable you look in them.

You knew the boys’ favorites like the back of your hand, so after you quickly ordered the food the only thing left was to wait, and hope that nothing serious is going on with your boyfriend.

You didn’t know why exactly you were overthinking this so much. Surely, he had his quiet days where he needed some time for himself, so why would it be different this time?

The thing was, he always would give you a heads up when he wanted to be alone, but nothing like this happened this time.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to carry this alone?” the waiter pulled you out of your deep thoughts.

“Yes, I’m kind of used to this,” you chuckled.

Getting back to your car, the rain still pouring, you quickly but safely made your way to the HYBE building.

Being a partner of one of the most influential people in this company was certainly an advantage, and that's why getting to the dance practice room was not an issue for you.

Chan, Minghao, and Soonyoung caught your attention first, as they were probably going over some steps in the middle of the room.

Then you spotted Joshua, Jonghan, and Jun talking in the corner, as well as Mingyu, Vernon, and Seungwan arguing about something, per usual. The rest of the boys were resting by the mirrors, and that’s where you also finally found your boyfriend.

“Food has arrived,” you laughed as you saw the expression on Mingyu’s face, who was the first to notice you. Someone turned the music down, and not a second later most of the boys were around you picking out their orders.

“You’re the best,” said Jeonghan and hugged you softly. With only one last box in your hand, you turned to Seungcheol, who looked like he hadn’t noticed your presence yet.

“What is up with him? Has he been like this the whole day?” you turned to Jeonghan.

“Yeah, but I’m sure he’s just stressed,” he sighed, looking at his best friend with a bit of pity in his eyes.

You patted Jeonghan’s back and walked up to your boyfriend, crouching before him.

His posture appeared slouched, and his eyes, once vibrant and full of life, now carried a subtle hint of exhaustion, with heavy lids that seemed to be begging for rest.

The deep lines and shadows under Seungcheol’s eyes betrayed his lack of sleep, confirming your suspicions that he didn’t take proper care of himself.

“Hey, baby. I got you food,” you smiled at him, taking in the lack of his usual energy and enthusiasm.

He didn’t even look at you as he stood up and passed by you. Now this was very weird. “Cheol, what is going on?” you asked, your voice laced with concerne.

He let out a deep sigh, which could’t mean anything good, and turned around to look at you.

“What do you want me to say, huh?” he said, raising an eyebrow at you. “You come here, God knows why, and disturb our practice, which is like the last thing we want right now,” his tone was only getting angrier as he spoke.

“Thanks for the food, I guess, but we are capable of taking care of ourselves. We’re adults, it’s not like you have to look out for us all the time, you know. Trust me, we are stressed enough, and we don’t really want anyone else to be up our asses right now,” he was at the verge of raising his voice right now, which has never happened in your relationship before.

With each hurtful word coming out of his mouth, you could feel yourself getting smaller and smaller and your eyes welling up with tears, shimmering with unspoken pain.

The thoughts in your head were racing, searching for meaning or a way to process the hurtful words you just heard from the person you loved the most. You folded your arms tightly across your chest as if trying to shield your poor heart from further harm.

“What would be the best right now is if you simply left and stopped being so damn clingy. Oh, and I was actually looking for that jacket, so if you don’t mind, could you please leave it?”

The moment these words left your boyfriend’s mouth, something in you shifted. You looked at him in pure horror, not once in a million years thinking you’ll hear these words from Seungcheol.

The boys could see how your expression changed, a mix of emotions flickering across your face - hurt, betrayal, and anger. Your muscles tense, and fists clenched, you breathed hard, ready to defend yourself.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? No, but seriously,” you laughed in disbelief.

“I come here, scared as shit because you haven’t been answering any of my calls or texts, and if it wasn’t for Jeonghan, I wouldn’t even know if you were fucking alive Seungcheol,” you noticed he flinched hearing you using his full name.

“I come here with food because I know for a fact that no one in this room has eaten anything proper in a week, and you dare to call me fucking clingy? For what? Taking care of you? If I’m such a burden, why do you even want to be with me, huh?” At this point you weren’t holding back, not caring what you were saying.

“I get it that you’re tired and stressed, but I’ll never let you call me clingy for being worried about you,” your voice reflected the strength of your anger, becoming louder than usual.

You could feel your heart breaking as the last words left your mouth:

“Fuck you, Seungcheol.”

Not even sparing him a glance, you threw the jacket at him, turned around and walked out, leaving twelve stunned boys standing in shock from what had just happened.

As you got back into your car, the weight of sadness settled upon you like a heavy blanket. Your gaze was fixated on the road ahead, yet your mind could stop replaying the scene from just a few minutes ago.

The atmosphere within the vehicle felt still, almost suffocating, as the silence enveloped you from the absence of conversation or cheerful music that usually filled the space.

You spend the rest of your day on your couch, and to your surprise, you didn’t even shed a tear. You were too numb to feel anything.

Your thoughts seemed to move in slow motion, as if trapped in a mental haze and the world around appeared muted, as if viewed through a foggy lens.

Just as you were to fall asleep, covered with a single blanket on your sofa, you heard the door to your apartment open. After some shuffling in the hallway, Seungcheol appeared from around the corner.

His tear-stained cheeks glistened under the soft glow of light and you could clearly see his eyes were reddened and puffy. His facial expression carried the weight of his emotions - a mix of sadness and exhaustion.

“I’m sorry,” he simply said, before collapsing to the ground, sobbing quietly. Tears cascaded down his face, tracing delicate paths along his cheeks that you adored so much.

Almost as if forgetting what took place earlier today, you rushed off the sofa and in an instant wrapped your arms around your crying boyfriend. With each breath, his body quivered, his shoulders shaking slightly and his chest rising and falling in sync with his sobs.

“I don’t know what happened, I... I didn’t mean any of this, please believe me,” he cried onto your shoulder. “You have to believe me,” he whispered.

Not saying anything, you only held him closer to your chest, stroking his back softly in a loving manner, as he continued to cry.

“Cheollie, listen to me,” you grabbed his chin lightly and made him look at you. Looking at his tear stained cheeks, you felt so many emotions bubbling inside you.

“I know that you didn’t mean them, but that still doesn’t make it fine.”

“I know, it’s just that-.”

“Cheol, let me finish, yeah?” You smiled weakly at him. “I understand that you have a lot on your plate right now, and if I only knew how you were feeling I would never do anything to make it worse. I love you so much, you know that and that’s why you should have talked to me and told me you needed space-.”

“No, no, no. I don’t want space. I need you honey, I need you around, you’re the reason why I keep going on during times like these,” this time around he was the one that didn’t let you finish.

“I love waking up with the knowledge that I have the best and the most caring partner by my side. I love that you don’t only take care of me, but also the boys. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me, and everyday I feel so grateful that I can call you... That you’re my...” he struggled to finish his sentence.

“Your the most perfect person and I fucked up so bad today,” he whispered those last words, slouching his shoulders almost as if embarrassed.

“You did, baby,” you sighed, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “But nothing a cuddle session can’t fix, right?” you smiled widely, at the surprised look at your boyfriend’s face.

“You want to cuddle with me?” he said in his belief, a slight pout on his face.

“Yes, you dumbass. But later we’ll still have to talk about this. You really hurt me and it won’t just go away,” he nodded his head quickly, taking your hands in his.

“I’ll do anything to make it up for you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, baby,” you laughed and stroked his cheek.

“After Mingyu fought me today, I think everything is possible.”

“Wait, what? Mingyu did what?” Now it was your turn to be shocked. It had to be the first time that the giant puppy had fought back.

“Yeah, I think we should write that down somewhere. But I had it coming.” he said pulling you down on the couch.

“Oh yeah, you definitely did.”

As you nestle close to each other, the weight of the world seems to melt away. Your bodies mold together, fitting perfectly in a tender embrace. Limbs entwine and hearts align, creating a secure and comforting space, for the first time in days.

Wrapped in each other's arms, the outside world fades into insignificance. The only reality that matters is the warmth and tenderness exchanged between your bodies

[lonelychicago]

r/relationship_advice

u/hot_pilot84 • 2d ago

MY (40M) BOYFRIEND? (33M) IS IN LOVE WITH HIS BEST FRIEND (36M) AND IM THE THIRD WHEEL

I'm new to this reddit stuff, but a coworker suggested it, and I thought I'd give it a try. I probably should start saying he's not really my boyfriend??? We just started dating a few weeks ago, and it's been... interesting. But I really like him and he is a nice, sweet guy.

He recently came out, so I've been trying to be patient and understanding. But recently it's been hard to spend any time alone because his best friend is always there.

Now, I also like the guy, so I don't really mind, and to be honest, I kinda suspected from the first moment they were in love with each other. They both talk about each other all the time, and when we hang out together, I can't help but feel like intruding on an intimate moment I shouldn't be part of.

Like, our second date was at his sister's wedding and the best friend spent most of the time glued to our side. He has a son who my date adores, so they danced together for most of the party as well. It was cute, but again: it felt like intruding on a private moment.

Then we had a relaxing night at his place, eating take out on his couch and watching a movie.... when the best friend just, came in. No notice, no knocking. He has a key to the place and he just walked in. It was awkward at first but we insisted it wasn't a big deal so he stayed for tge rest of the night.

By the time I was leaving, my date was telling him to just get comfortable on the couch.

Another thing is. My date? Situationship? I don't know how to call it anymore. Well, I recently found out that he is the legal guardian of his best friend 's kid? In case anything happens? I wouldn’t find this weird at all if it wasn't for the fact this man has parents and sisters and other close family members that also have a less chance of dying along with him on the job. (They work together.)

Also. Recently, the best friend broke up with his girlfiend and called this guy in the middle of our date. So, he crashed again.

All of this to say, I'm not really hurt? This was new and sure, I like the guy. But to be honest my expectations were low. This is fairly recent, so it's not like my heart is broken and I just lost the love of my life. No, that's not the problem.

I just don't think these two know they're in love with each other, and it’s starting to get really uncomfortable for me. Should I say something? Should I talk with my date about it or just break things off and keep it vague, but that we should still be friends? Should I talk with both of them at the same time and confront the situation?

This is a situation I don't even know how to begin to get a handle on. Does anyone know where I should start?

rctherpcliarredditor • commented 1d ago

to be honest, i don't really have any advice for you. i just find this gay drama really hilarious. thoughts and prayers for you, my man 🙏🏼🙏🏼

twohottakes • commented 6hrs ago

definitely have a conversation alone with your date. point all of this out to him and tell him you don't wanna get in the middle if there's deeper feelings involved for someone else. all the luck to you, man!

storyreddit23 • commented 2hrs ago

talk to ur date!! and pls, post an update if u do. i wanna know how this ends.

[ssahotchnerr]

Jack still sort of maintaining a relationship with Roy the first few years after Haley dies (Aaron thought it was important to maintain those connections for Jack even tho it hurt Aaron to do 😭 it was easy with Jess who he loves but SUCKED with Roy) but he gets extremely exclusionary once Ellie is born. Him being like “I will spend time with MY grandson who belonged to MY daughter but I will not be wasting my time, energy, and money on a child you’ve had with another woman. A child who – might I point out – would not have been born if you stayed married to my daughter and didn’t get her killed in the first place.”

Aaron being pissed on Ellie’s behalf (and his feelings are hurt tbh) and you being pissed on both of their behalfs. But, unexpectedly, Hc that Jack overheard this conversation and basically says to Aaron the next time Roy wants to take him somewhere (Aaron didn’t want to make HIM feel bad on top of everything else by banning him from seeing his grandfather, so he was gonna let him go), “I don’t want to spend time with grandpa Roy if he’s gonna be mean to Ellie. Thank you, but I’ll stay here.” SUCH A GOOD BIG BROTHERRRRR you and Aaron are so proud 🥺❤️

OHHH MY GOD??

roy just completely refuses to acknowledge that ellie exists 😭

it happened right from the start: when aaron shared the two of you were expecting, roy brushed it off, muttering something incoherently in response. after she's born, aaron invites him over for family dinners, he refuses to come. he's invited to ellie's first, second, third birthday party, doesn't come. every time he comes over, he acts like he's never seen her before. disregarding her completely.

it becomes very clear very fast that he wants to spend time with jack and jack only. as much as aaron hates to admit it, in a way, he understands. roy's bitter about what happened to haley, so this was somewhat expected. it's a different situation that's hard to navigate - ellie isn't related to him, so if roy doesn't want to bring her along to places, whatever, aaron's not going to force roy to do anything. the issue is what an issue it is. how ellie is being treated.

it's more of a problem when ellie is a bit older, and wants to tag along with jack wherever he goes. she just wants to be included 🥺 sweet ellie simply says hi when roy comes over to pick up jack, he ignores her. the next time, she draws him a picture, and he doesn't accept it.

aaron gently confronts him, and that's when roy brings up haley and how this child is a disgrace to her. imagine he full-on admits he wishes she never existed?? 😭 ellie's a product of what happened to haley, he'll never forgive aaron for getting her killed, so he'll never accept this child's existence. she shouldn't exist.

that angers aaron and he starts going off - ellie is a part of this family, whether you like it or not. and fine, you don't have to love her (saying that SHATTERS aaron's heart) but do not treat her like she's nothing. aaron won't let that stand.

it starts a huge argument 🥺 roy refuses speak to aaron, except when it comes to arranging his time with jack, and the conversation is very short at that. he doesn't speak much to you either (never has). again in his eyes - you're haley's replacement. jack's new "mom"

and it's especially sad because ellie knows about haley too :( - not the story, but the simple, good things: jack has another mommy, she's not here with us anymore but you can talk to her with a candle. haley has never been a avoided topic in the house, she's encouraged. and so ellie loves haley in her own way :( so to call her a disgrace in haley's name?? when she's also keeping haley's memory alive? :((((

you feel awful. you know how hurt aaron is but he doesn't allow himself to show it. he hates talking about it, and he's always in a mood whenever roy's with jack. you feel awful for your daughter who doesn't know what's going on. you feel awful for jack who's taking an unnecessary weight on his shoulders in terms of this too.

ellie's confused and upset, this is the first person who's ever shown her unkindness. aaron gently tries to explain, but also, how do you explain this to a toddler? so he simply apologizes and scoops her up into his arms and holds her close :( he feels awful, and as if he's failing her in someway. this is "his fault", isn't it? 😭

so if roy's taking jack out, aaron or you, or both combined, take ellie out for the day to do something fun. or try to keep jack heading out on the down-low. it sucks, you still both encourage jack to spend time with his grandfather - maintaining that important relationship - even though it's exceedingly complicated behind the scenes.

and jack, being the sweet sensitive kid he is, picks up on the tension immediately. and he's torn 🥺 he wants to appease his grandfather, knows what he's doing isn't right, but also doesn't want to betray his little sister, letting behavior like this continue. he feels guilty :( he takes the initiative and brings it up to roy himself, asking if ellie can come with them someday, like to the zoo or to a movie. but roy's pretty level-headed and his mind is made up - absolutely no ellie.

so jack gets really upset :( he gets home one day and cries about it :((( you're trying to console him, as is aaron (who's close to tears himself), and ellie wanders over :( she gets sad whenever jack is sad :( and while she has no idea what's going on exactly, she just buries herself right up into jack's side as he's crying. to comfort him too 🥺🫶🏻

overall it's a reallyyyy messy situation, one that you can only hope resolves with time :(