#nd they get hate for just being......firm?

[aemvnd]

Crybaby!reader being cradled by rafe!! She just needs her daddy, he’s tough but soft at times and he just reassures her, calming her down from her little tantrum 🤍🤍🤍

𝓇.cameron. ┆ lovin' on you.

◟ ㅤᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁.﹒ won't be able to write much today… goin' shoppin' for my new apartment. 💐 here's a lil' somethin' for the soft girlies . <3

"c'mon baby, stop your cryin'—you're gonna make yourself sick," he sighs softly, cradling you in his lap, keeping a firm pressure around you as he gently rocks you, and you feel so safe in his thick, strong and protective arms, so loved.

"i.. 'm sorry, daddy, jus' can't help it sometimes," you mewl with a cute pout, another stream of fresh tears falling down your cheeks, making you bury your face into the crook of rafe's warm neck, and he sighs again, pressing a gentle, loving kiss to the top of your head, getting a whiff of those feminine hair products that he loves on you, something sweet and vanilla scented, just utterly and perfectly you.

"just needed dad, huh?" rafe chuckles softly, giving his head a slight shake to himself in amusement, and he can still hear you sniffling softly, trying to be quiet and not upset him, which he hates, because he's been trying to work on you and your shyness, always so nervous to upset him in someway, somehow.

it probably has something to do with your daddy issues, rafe thinks, slightly smug and malicious, but that's why he was the man who stepped up—not just as your man, and not just as your boyfriend, but as someone you can always look up to, someone you can go to for guidance, someone who'll be firm with you and punish you if need be.

and it was too easy, becoming that someone you desperately needed as he manipulated his way into your life.

however, rafe wasn't the bad guy—no, he knew you needed him, needed that extra love and attention, always so needy and whiny when you didn't get it, but now that rafe was here, with you, now that he has you under his control, you're the most perfect, docile little angel, all submissive and obedient and so, so sweet it's almost sickening.

"don't worry, dollface," rafe croons sweetly, before gently lifting your face up with two light little love-taps to your jaw, catching your attention as you instantly look and perk up, locking eyes with your handsome boyfriend.

and fuck, rafe thinks you're so pretty when you're crying.

"no more crying, ya' hear me?" rafe commands, though he keeps his voice light and gentle, but still firm, knowing he doesn't truly need to keep you in check, you know his rules already, and you've always been rafe's good girl.

sweetly, almost tenderly, rafe carefully wipes away the flowing tears down your flushed cheeks, already knowing you'll wanna redo your makeup once you see that your mascara and eyeliner had run down and created quite the mess—but again, rafe still thinks you're the prettiest girl in the world.

"sorry again, daddy—jus' love you 'nd missed you," you answer meekly, eyes watery and bloodshot, and your pouty lips swollen slightly from you always anxiously biting them, another bad habit that rafe is trying to work on getting you to stop.

"don't worry 'bout it, baby—daddy's here now, yea?" rafe hums softly, pressing a few soft, loving kisses all over your face, making you giggle sweetly and playfully roll your doe-like, misty eyes, which makes rafe smile.

"how about we put on a film and stay in for the rest of the night, yeah?" rafe offers politely, not minding watching one of your stupid romantic movies if it makes you smile, and get you outta this terrible mood of 'missing him' as you always like to complain.

but again, rafe finds that he doesn't mind his girl missing him, not one bit—in fact, he enjoys that fact a bit too much, but he would never admit it aloud, not even if he had a gun to his head.

"okay!" you chirp happily, already over your little tantrum from minutes ago, snuggling even deeper into rafe's lap as you both get comfortable on his bed, looking for one of your favorite movies to watch.

afterwards, once you decide on the film 'the notebook', rafe can't help but release a small, little grin to himself, because he already knows in just the next ten minutes, you'll be hysterically crying all over again, and he'll have to comfort you as you watch noah and allie's love story.

and if rafe already secretly knew that was the film you were gonna pick, and that 'the notebook' was one of your favorite romance films of all time... well, he didn't mind that too much, either.

[lovelyhan]

— starcrossed losers (a teaser) ⟢

at age fifteen, you’re betrothed to a prince named jeonghan. at age twenty-five, you’re set to marry him. so, when your father gives you a chance to find love all on your own, you immediately take it. now if only jeonghan would stop fucking sabotaging every relationship you’re trying to get into.

★ FEATURING; jeonghan x reader

★ WORD COUNT; 1k words

★ TAGS; princess!reader, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, emotional romantic and sexual tension all in one lmao, angst, smut (in the future scenes, this teaser is sfw!)

★ NOTES; so my blog won't die in my absence nd slight inactivity from writing, i decided to leave you guys a snippet of the third n last part of my royalty series <3 as always, content in my teasers are not final and can be subject to change so heads up on that!

this is part of the it’s complicated series.

It’s several hours past midnight when you hear three gentle but firm knocks on the door to your bedchambers. 

Annoyed, you stare at the collection of unopened gifts stacked high on your vanity. From delicacies from the neighboring kingdoms to the most expensive collection of cosmetics in Ancarra, your guests certainly knew how to curry your favor. But not even their lavish presents can dispel the pure vexation that’s been making your blood boil the entire evening. 

Not bothering to answer the door, you whisk yourself into the plush seat tucked underneath the dresser. There’s only one halfwit currently residing in the castle brave enough to disturb you in the dead of night, and with how terribly tonight’s festivities went, you’re in no mood to extend your hospitality to anyone—much less Seraphia’s exasperating, insufferable, scheming—

“Isn’t it a little too late to be testing out swatches, Your Grace?”

You try to ignore him. The way his silken dress shirt dangles half untucked from his trousers. The self-satisfied look on his face when he notices you fumbling with the cherry red rouge you’re applying to your lips. 

But try as you may, you cannot ignore Jeonghan when he reaches a hand in front of you, nimble fingers wiping off the excess color that you accidentally tinted just a few millimeters from your lip line. 

Not when his smoldering stare holds yours captive in the image reflected in your gilded mirror. Not when you can’t even find it in yourself to resist when he gently grabs your chin and forces your gaze to marvel at the man himself.

“Sulking again, Princess?” Jeonghan sneers and you want to hate him for it, but you can’t. “I saved you from a man charged with treason three times in a single decade. Why are you pouting at me like I took away the love of your life?”

“Because you’ve made it your life’s purpose to make mine miserable,” you snarl, putting as much venom into the words as you can. “Minghao isn’t a traitor. If he was, he wouldn’t be sitting on top of the Rènxìng empire. He wouldn’t even be daring enough to show his face here for the sole purpose of courting me.”

He sighs as if meaning to be sympathetic, but you’ve long seen past the ruse. “Poor little thing, still being played like a fool all because you abhor the idea of one day becoming my wife. Tell me, didn’t you find it odd, how persistent he was in pursuing a woman who’s already spoken for?”

“I am not spoken for,” you interject, trying not to crumble from how his thumb lightly dabs at your lower lip. “Not by you. Not by anyone. Father gave me a choice—”

“Yes, of course. Everyone knows the story of the Ancarran Princess who’s chained to a troublesome foreigner. So troublesome that she had to beg on her knees just to get the king to reconsider,” Jeonghan coos, face inching ever-so close to yours.  

“But as it turns out, all the other men you’re trying your damnedest to replace me with are even worse fiends than I.” 

Your lungs burn as if they’ve been set aflame and Jeonghan is merely adding more fuel to the blaze. “You’re despicable.”

“And you, Your Grace, are much too gullible,” he chuckles, each breath fanning hotly against your skin. “I’d say just give it up and surrender, but you’ve been fighting against me since we were children. Putting an end to our very interesting relationship in such a boring way wouldn’t make good for the history books, no?”

All of a sudden, you remember something that Soonyoung told you in passing. How Jeonghan is someone who cherishes his loved ones deeper than one would otherwise expect. He loves his homeland. He loves his family. Above all, he loves his people.

With how he keeps reeling you back from all your attempts to escape your engagement, any other person would assume that he loves you just as much.

But how are you supposed to believe that someone like him is capable of love when all he does is thrive off your misery?

“This new rouge you’re testing out,” he murmurs, as if it’s remotely acceptable to just shift the conversation after what he just told you. “It’s the kind that takes days to remove once it dries, no?”

“In what way does it concern you?” you grit. 

The despicable prince simply hums. “Oh, nothing. It’s just that I’m quite curious about its actual longevity.” 

You can practically hear your heart stutter to a stop when he closes the distance even more—only a hair’s breadth separating your mouth from his. You’re clueless as to how it happened, but you suddenly find your fingers coiled around the front of his shirt. Looking for purchase. For solid ground.

But you should know better than to anchor yourself to someone as unpredictable as Jeonghan.

“If someone were to ruin it in the next ten seconds, would you even be more furious than you are now?” he whispers and you can feel the ghost of a smirk against your lips. “Or would it garner the opposite effect? Would you finally melt into their arms? Would you let them tear all your defenses asunder?”

Your pulse is roaring in your ears and all of a sudden, you can’t remember how to breathe. His intense stare is pinning you in place no matter how badly you want to escape. The scent of expensive champagne lingers on his lips and you find yourself craving for a taste. 

But you can’t. You can’t want that. You can’t want him. 

This is the man who’s made your life a living hell for as long as you can remember. The man you’ll be cursed to sit beside in a throne room forever if you don’t do anything about it fast. 

You know these facts perfectly well, and yet…

Your eyes flutter closed as you hook your wrists across the back of his neck, letting your arch-nemesis fall deep into you.

this is part of the it’s complicated series.

want to be added to the taglist? leave a reply <3

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not letting an autistic kid join my group?

Okaayy this requires a LOT of backstory so bear with me on this.

I am 16F and the kid in question is 16M. I shall call him Tyler. I've known Tyler for like 3 years, never really been friends with him but he has been in my classes many times. Tyler is very blatantly autistic, which means it's very easy for people to pick on him. Other kids will be dicks to him and rile him up because they think it's funny. I am also nd but am quite good at masking so I don't get picked on but I am still a loner. Y'know the stereotypical quiet kid. Last detail to note about Tyler, he never does any of the classwork. Every time I have been in class with him he has just watched youtube on his laptop and will not do the work unless a teacher forces him to. This is important to note for my first major encounter with Tyler when I was 13.

There was a group project and everyone had to pick a partner to do a presentation, standard school stuff you get the gist. Me and Tyler ended up being the last ones left so we got paired together. The problem was that he did not pull his own weight. I had to sit with him and slowly walk him through the stuff we had to do for the project. Then I told him I would do X part of the project and he would do Y part of the project. He agreed and I went to work on it. The next day I asked if he had done anything, he hadn't. I sympathized with this because I also have executive dysfunction and very much struggle with completing things so I told him it was fine, he just had to work on it today and to send it to me once he was done. So I got home and waited for him to send me his part of the project but of course, it never came. So I ended up having to do literally EVERYTHING myself at the last minute. I went to the computer room to finish it at break time and lo and behold who do I see but Tyler in the computer room watching youtube. I gave him a firm telling off because I was hella pissed that while I was stressing out trying to do a group project by myself he was doing fuck all. He obviously felt bad but I was still rather pissed. So on the day of the presentation I did something admittedly very petty in that I forced him to do his part in the presentation despite him never seeing the presentation before. So he obviously struggled a lot. But that was that and I was quite certain I didn't want to work with him again. Flash forwards a bit, he tries to sit with me. I don't want to be an ass so I let him. The thing is that he was completely clueless about all the work so I ended up having to be like a surrogate teacher, walking him through everything. Again. The thing is, I couldn't get my own work done if I was stuck being Tyler's tutor. I was like "Fuck this. I'm not his teacher! I'm not even getting paid for this!!" So I started actively avoiding sitting with him so I could actually get shit done and he seemed to get the hint.

Now, to the present. He happens to be in the same class as me and asked if he could be in my group and I ignored him. I felt bad about it but I did not want to be handholding this kid. He seems to be actively trying to get my attention and trying to interact with me but I am just not interested. Especially since he seems to think that doing things like flicking water at me or slamming doors in my face is a good way to get my attention. I've tried to make it very clear I don't like this behaviour but he keeps doing it. In the most recent incident he randomly poked my back when I was crouching down to pick something up. I really hate being touched so I snapped at him but I feel guilty about it now. I feel like I could've handled it better because he clearly doesn't pick up emotional cues very well. And clearly he's just lonely, which I get but I feel he burnt this bridge a while ago and is just blasting the remains with a flamethrower.

So tumblr, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[moonchildstyles]

A little jealous older h, maybe they're at a party nd you know they have gone with their own friends and the next he knows he sees her standing next to a guy and she does not seem bothered or anything, actually she's laughing and he's like hmm, yk maybe he leaves her be for a bit then he goes up to her, like, "hey baby, you forgot your bag" cause he's holding her bag for her ofc and that was just an excuse to get close nd then she introduces the guy as her friend from college and she says, "this is my boyfriend Harry", Harry definitely gives him a firm handshake with the other hand on her waist just to make it clear on the boyfriend part and then she says like, " oh we're paired up for a project together" and h hates that but it's no one's fault and he's a grown up so he just says that it's so cool, maybe the guy makes a joke then and y/n laughs, h is doing everything to not roll his eyes

And it's not that he's like insecure jealous, it's just his girl is very pretty and gorgeous and there's this guy who is younger and makes her laugh with those jokes he can't understand yk and he is afterall just a man. Maybe on their drive back home, y/n can definitely tell he was a little jealous nd honestly it's kind of cute and hot. So she brings her friend up and wants to tease h a little and just telling him how she's glad she got paired with since he's really smart nd won't leave her to do the work all alone. H is like "yeah me too" and he's really funny "mhmm" so she's like... Are you jealous? like he isn't even going to deny at this point, "it's not my fault you make the caveman in me come out" and she ofc reassures him " well don't be I'm yours and I'm only in love with you"

wait this is so cute like I jsut see him being so secure bc ofc like they know they leave each other and like he knows shes not looking at anyone else jsut the same way that hes not looking for anyone else but like ofc theres that little like healthy jealousy of being like but shes mine ??????? like its just cute and silly and she pokes at him just a little over it :(

[moodywyrm]

OKAY (chubby gf for all 🤭)

#1

going to the beach with sevvy!!! wearing a cute frilly pink bikini and a cute sunhat, only carrying your lil purse,, meanwhile sevika is the definition of tall dark and handsome, hair tied up with some scary sunglasses, wearing a black sports bra-esque top with black trunks. and ofc she wouldn’t let you do the heavy lifting because you never have to get your hands dirty when she’s around :(. so she’s carrying the cooler, a beach tote, the umbrella, the blanket, the chairs, and a backpack for extras, not struggling one bit hehe,,

nd of course she sets everything up, making sure you have everything you need before finally relaxing and watching you read your book!!!

at some point you get bored and get up, wandering off to the ocean to find some seashells to bring home and some decorations for a sandcastle (coming soon) ! and sevika was closing her eyes for a minute, and when she reaches over to hold your hand (bc she cannot keep her hands off of you for longer than a couple minutes), she freaks out bc WHERE tf did you go and WHY didn’t you tell her???

so she scans the beach, thinking you just wanted some ice cream but no, she sees you at the edge of the water collecting some pretty seashells and her heart melts :((( nd she gets up, hurrying over bc she started to notice all of the horny men staring you down, wrapping her arms around you from behind and giving you a big smooch on the cheek!!!

how dare u make me think about sevika all sun-warmed and in nothing but trunks and a bikini top. how dare u. im gonna start clawing up carpet.

beach day with sevika!! I'd melt man, she'd be so sweet!! I'm a firm believer that she's a Rottweiler Gf: aka, everyone thinks she's super gruff and mean, and sometimes she is, but she's also such a sweetie and a clingy baby <3

so when you're at the beach with her, she does Everything for you. carries everything from the car except for your bag, which you took with you. she lays out your towel for you, setting up your umbrella and letting you sit down while she grabs everything and sets up for you two. watching her carry the cooler, her muscles flexing, it's such a sight <3 she's so pretty, being all sweet and providing <3 but you want to do something for her!!

Sevika, for whatever reason, strikes me as the kind of person who hates putting on sunscreen. Even if she knows she needs to, she hates it and tries to get out of doing it all the time. So she kinda freezes when you go, "Vika, c'mere, I gotta put sunscreen on you!"

She stares at you for a second before going, "Ah, it's okay, doll, I'm good."

"Absolutely not. It's hot as hell and you're in the sun, I don't want you getting sunburnt. Come here."

And you're so stern about it she's like yes ma'am.

That's how she ends up sitting criss cross applesauce in front of you, letting you rub sunscreen onto her exposed skin after you already rubbed a copious amount onto her legs. And she's honestly ... not that mad about it? Like at all??? The feel of your hands rubbing the cream onto her skin, taking special care to guide it under the edge of her swimsuit and getting every inch of exposed skin, is so sweet and soothing, she could get used to this. Plus, just the image of you kneeling behind her in a lil swimsuit, your delicious thighs out and shimmering from the sunscreen, miles and miles of gorgeous, soft skin accentuated by the perfect shade of pink for your skin tone, your tits almost spilling out of the top .... yeah, she could really get used to this.

After you rub the sunscreen in, she lays down on the big towel, closing her eyes as you start reading your book. She's got one arm slung over your waist, occasionally taking a peek at you until she's just openly staring at you. And she looks so intense, so focused on you and your body, it makes you feel all warm and fuzzy.

"Quit staring, stink."

"What, can't stare at my girl now? 'thought you liked it when I stared at you," and now she's leaning up over you, smirking down at your flustered form.

"Baby, no. We're in public."

"Fine >:("

She is such a stink, but she lays back down and actually closes her eyes, content with laying next to you. She dozes off a little bit, in that hazy space between consciousness and unconsciousness. When she snaps out of it, she realizes that you're not next to her anymore. Or, anywhere near her.

She sits up abruptly, frantically looking around for you, until she spots you at the edge of some tide pools.

You're kneeling sifting through shells and lil bits of sea glass, so engrossed in your work that you don't notice Sevika coming up behind you until she's kneeling at your side. She places one hand on your lower back, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder.

"Mm, you had me scared for a second, didn't know where you were," the words are soft and mumbled into the warm skin of your shoulder, her hand moving from your lower back to curve around your waist.

"Sorry, 'Vika, was just looking for stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Stuff! Like, seashells and sea glass and stuff that washes up, thought I could take them home." And you look so cute, your eyes are all shiny and dolly, you skin all warmed and sunny, she can't help but press a kiss to you lips.

"You're like a lil seagull..."

"A seagull? >:("

"A cute one."

Little do you know that there was a group of like three guys watching you from a little further along the beach, ogling you and being really fucking gross. Sevika, on her way over to you, glared at them and flipped them off. They practically ran for the hills, because who wouldn't be intimated by a tall, buff as all hell woman with the worlds most intense resting bitch face.

Also just, she loves how gentle and sweet you can be. She knows she's gruff, she's mean, she's perceived as a bitch. And she doesn't know what she did to deserve someone as good as you, but she's glad she's glad she did. It all hits her when she's wrapping her arms around you on the beach towel, watching you as you talk her through your little collection of things. she's just so in love it makes her feel weak <3

[skyliv]

i liked that touch starved idea,, cuz me too, nd it’s always fun to think abt

but also let’s make it both of them

@h0t-p1nk-ch33tah-pr1nt hello bro

A cat laid curled on Hobie’s lap, a little grey tabby that purred and kneaded against his jeans. His focus was on it, and he didn’t dare to move his high boots from the ottoman they rested on. The kitten pressed itself into every movement of his hand, smooshing its nose between his fingers and ticking his palm with its whiskers. He felt his eyes closing, but he wouldn’t let himself, so he rubbed the cat behind the ear and hummed to himself.

Being Spider-Man is tough work, and this wasn’t even much of a break, he was just stopping by a friend’s place to check up. His spiked mask laid under his arm, across the armrest of the dark couch. His friend in question should be getting back from work, he had alerted her of his visit earlier, but she may be tired.

A few more minutes pass, and he isn’t even bothered to survey the living room, as the kitten has already fallen asleep. He sighs softly, before the doorknob wiggles. She’s here. The cat wakes up with a start when the door opens, its ears perking up and its fur puffing out.

Kathryn practically stumbled in, her eyes half lidded and her movements tired. Hobie sits up quickly, sending the cat scrambling off his lap. Kath’s expression quickly slips to shock, and she gasps quietly.

“Hobie?” She whispered.

He stood, his brows high and his lips curling into a small smile. “There’s my cat!” He laughs, being sure to keep his voice down for her sake. Sure, she quit the Osborn position, but the days she had to be out were far too long, he just wished he could be there.

Kathryn's lips press together, and her brows knit together as she stepped forward. Once, then twice, and then she practically bounds into the Spider’s arms. She is a bit shorter, and she has to avoid the spikes of his vest, but she embraces him tightly. That surprised him, understandably, and for as rigid as his build was he froze up even more.

“God I hate those people…” Kathryn mumbles against the denim vest.

“I don’t see why y’don’t ditch that place already.” His answer is firm, and a bit smug, but the Cat doesn’t listen. She’s too focused on the feeling of his chest moving beneath her, the rumbling of his honeyed voice from his throat.

Well, being a cat now, she noticed a lot more things, and took a lot less for granted. Hobie brought a hand from her back to the back up her head, his fingers splaying through her hair. He scratches ever so slightly, like he did to the cat that now lays curled up on the ottoman.

And just like that, Kath seems to melt into him, a long breath leaving her. She never had this, never had someone to fall into, to just stand with. Hobie isn’t complaining, as his expression softens and he chuckles quietly.

“Atta girl…” He mutters under his breath, a simple phrase that causes Kath to finally smile.

“Oh, whatever.” She whispers back, bringing her hands behind him up some, and lifting her face to meet his. Her sharper teeth seem to shine in the lamplight, and Hobie just laughs again. “What? I thought you’d be used to hugs!”

The Spider ruffles Kath’s hair again, and he’s failing to hold back how happy she makes him. “Mmh, no, never with you.”

Kath’s smile grows, and she squeezes the hug tighter, causing Hobie to nearly lose his balance.

Neither one of them wanted to let go, they did have work to do, but that could wait. Hobie’s hand that was on Kath’s head is pulled back, and he hesitated for the slightest moment before placing it on the crook of her neck. When he smiles again, his nose scrunches a little, and he lets her pull him closer. “‘Could never get too used to my favorite cat.”

[fanficwriter284]

Please do more Chucky being protective of his wife? (Only if you want to ofc)

SURE!!! I love writing these types of Fics!!!

Tiffany was walking down the hallway trying to get to her next class before the bell rang. She scurried holding her science biology textbook in her hand and the homework from last night. Till she was stopped by Brandon who unbeknownst to her had a crush on her since the 4th grade.

"Hey, Tiff." He said reaching over to her nd grabbing her shoulder.

"Don't call me Tiff and piss off."

Tiffany hated him. He was a guy who pretended to know-it-all. Plus he would always try to approach her when Chucky wasn't by her side. Which was more often since they had separate classes and only shared P.E, Math, and English. He just wouldn't leave her alone. Plus it seemed like he stalked her during passing periods.

"Oh come on! Why don't you walk me to class huh?" He said raising an eyebrow.

"NO. Just leave me alone."

"Oh come on." He said grabbing her arm.

"LET GO OF ME!"

Tiffany tried pulling away from him but he was too strong, but he suddenly stopped moving.

"Didn't ya hear her? She said to let go, pal."

Chucky had a firm grip on Brandon's collar and looked him dead in the eyes. Brandon dropped Tiffany's arm, which cause Chucky to slightly loosen his grip, he looked over at Tiffany.

"You ok Tiff?"

"Yeah. I'm fine."

Chucky let out a quick smile and turned his attention back to Brandon.

"You go after Tiffany again. And I'll break your damn arm. Understand?"

The boy gave him a quick nod and gasped for breath when Chucky let go of him.

"Come on Tiff. Want me to walk ya to class?"

Tiffany smiled and nodded.

"Thanks, Sweetface."

Brandon rubbed him throat and rolled his eyes.

"And HE gets to call her Tiff?" He thought.

Tiffany walked over to Brandon real quick and gave him a slap across the face.

"Don't ever come near me again understand? And the only reason he can call me Tiff is because he's my best friend and someone I care about and you don't fit either of those categories."

She left the jerk and went to go walk with Chucky smiling happily.

[1eos]

i saw you talking about your favorite signs from each element and as a cap woman i feel flattered. however, why is that? most people say capricorns are like devils

i love capricorns nd some of my favorite ppl in the world are capricorns! nd honestly? from my personal experience everyone who says they hate capricorns (nd virgos) ARE the problem. capricorns tend to be very firm abt their boundaries nd try to come off confident nd ppl hate that. like im serious. once u have firm boundaries ppl will hate u bc they can’t take advantage of u or they’re jealous that they can’t do that. plus capricorns are really guarded nd from what ive observed ppl latch on to them nd put them on pedestals nd bc caps are connected to saturn theyre very serious nd they dont think theyre worth a lot of the praise they get (their are exclusions ofc normally men) so they get uncomfortable when ppl try to treat them like gods instead of ppl nd they are very reserved with their feelings nd a lot of ppl don’t care to actually pay attention to the obvs signs a cap is putting out so they get angry that the capricorn isnt accommodating. my best friend is a capricorn ive been able to read her so easily but a lot of ppl project that she’s mean or frigid just bc they don’t care that she’s a bit reserved w new ppl. ofc ive met caps i didnt like but for the most part theyre better than all the other signs bc i can respect their boundaries nd understand that they arent gonna be my best friend after a week of knowing them. nd a lot of the ppl that claim they cannot STAND capricorns tend to be ppl who over step boundaries, play the victim, etc etc nd that’s why they dont like caps

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

So exciting your requests are open! can you do a soft moment of vulnerability with King Arthur? then you can add as much or as little smut to that as you want. but I just feel like that man needs a little love and support <3 I hope you enjoy your week break and properly pamper yourself!!

A/N: I love the idea of a type of caregiver/teacher for Blue that works in the palace and so I kind of ran with it. I hope you like it. Thank you for reblogging, commenting, and liking. 

Pairing: King Arthur x F! Reader 

Warnings: It’s pretty soft but I curse once. 

My Masterlist 

Late Nights with the King 

“And they lived happily ever after,” you trailed off, your hand, running through the short hair at the top of Blue’s head. Your small charge had quickly burrowed his way into your heart. You pulled the covers up higher and placed a kiss on his forehead, backing slowly out of the room and closing the door with a slight click. 

It was late, and the castle was quiet as you made your way through the labyrinth of halls, the book of fairy tales clutched to your chest. You turned the corner and into the room with the fabled Round Table, hoping to cut through to the kitchens for a late snack before bed. But, your steps faltered when you learned you were not as alone this evening as you thought. The King slumped in his chair, a hand over his eyes, the table littered with essential documents and maps, and you quietly began to retrace your steps out of the room, but you were not as quiet as you thought. 

“Come,” his voice echoes throughout the great room, “please, is there something you need?” He slowly lowers his hand, and you lower to a curtsy, “please,” he begs, “I hate when people do that.” You can’t help the chuckle that bubbles up your throat, and he smiles, “what’s so funny?” 

“The King does not like when his subjects bow and curtsy before him?” you tease, biting your lip, “how would you like best to be addressed then, sir?” 

“When we are alone like this, I would like to be addressed by my name, Arthur.” 

“Arthur,” you test the name on your tongue, half expecting lighting to come and strike you for addressing the King in such an informal way. He smiles and nods, gesturing to the seat beside him for you to sit. “Oh, Your Majesty, I wasn’t seeking you out; I was just cutting through to the kitchens.” 

He gives you a playful glare, “Arthur, please. Would this suffice?” he pushes a plate towards you laden with grapes, apple slices, hard cheese, and a crust of bread. “I also have wine,” he grabs a second goblet and fills it with the sweet red. “Please, join me?” You’d never thought the King would ask such a request of you, but you do not wish to insult him, so you take a seat a few spots down, reaching for the plate. “Closer,” his voice is low, almost as if not to startle a fawn, “please.” 

Your pulse quickens, and you rise quickly, bumping your leg into the table and causing the contents to rock, the glass of wine sloshing onto a paper. “Fuck,” you mumble, quickly pulling your skirt to wipe up the mess, the red staining your dress. He chuckles, and you turn to see him watching you with amused eyes. “I am so sorry your Maje-” 

“Arthur,” he quickly corrects, pulling out the chair beside him, “those are nothing of consequence. Please just take a seat.” You pull back down your skirt and take a tentative seat beside him. He reaches for the plate and sets it between you, taking a grape and popping it into his mouth. “So why are you up so late, my Lady?” 

“Please, if I must call you Arthur, you must call me by my name. Plus, I am no Lady; I am just here to raise Blue and give him a proper education.” He hands you the glass of wine, and you tremble as his hand grazes over your own, taking a large sip to soothe your nerves. 

“How is Blue doing with his studies? I regret that I haven’t been a perfect father figure to him lately. Back Lack would be so disappointed in me,” he sighs, leaning back again. His eyes look distant, and he rubs a hand over his beard. You don’t think, reaching across to take his hand. He turns to look at you, the storm brewing in his eyes. 

“You are a wonderful guardian to him; he loves you very much. He always speaks so highly of you and how he never thought the Boss would become the King, but there wouldn’t be any better. He admires you very much, Arthur,” he rubs his thumb over your hand. “He understands that you are the King, and when you get a chance, he will get his time with you.” His eyes lose some of their brightness, and you take a look at how utterly exhausted he looks. 

“I don’t want to let him down,” he mumbles, “or anyone else.” 

“It’s an enormous weight on your shoulders, I reckon, being King.” Your hands move without thought, your thumbs rubbing each other in soothing circles, his hand warm and prominent in your own. 

“It is,” he whispers, leaning closer to you. 

“How does one cope with such pressure?” you ask, taking your eyes off your intertwined hands and looking up at him, noting you are much closer than you remember. 

“I don’t,” you feel his breath ghost across your lips, “All of it, being King, trying to be a good guardian to Blue, keeping the kingdom safe, yielding Excalibur, it’s all on my shoulders.” You lean closer, like a moth to a flame. Brushing your nose against his own, on the edge of your seat. 

“Is there anything I can do, my King?” your tongue slithers out to wet your lips, and you feel it graze his bottom lip, the catch of his breath loud in the silence. 

He drops your hand and moves to cup your cheek, skin soft against his calloused palm, “my name,” he breathes, “is Arthur.” 

“Arthur,” you whisper, his head moving to close the distance between you. His lips are hot and firm against your own, scooting closer to lick against your lips. His hands drag you forward out of your seat and into his lap, pulling you closer until there is no space between you. His other hand comes up, and he traces his thumbs over your cheeks as he wields his tongue like the famed Excalibur, leaving you breathless. The tenderness of his touch and the way he kisses you have you melting into his arms. He pulls away with a sigh pressing his forehead to your own. 

“Do you feel better now?” you whisper against the shell of his ear, his forehead dropping to your shoulder and wrapping his arms tightly around you. 

“Yes,” he nuzzles his face into your neck and presses scratchy kisses against your skin, “you are so soft and smell so good, I could get lost in your arms.” You run your fingers through his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp, and he groans, leaning further into your touch, “that feels nice,” he slurs, drunk off your warmth and soft touch. 

You lean back, and his head slowly rises to meet your eyes, “I should go,” you whisper, “it’s very late and,” you bite your lip, holding back. 

“What, love, tell me,” the endearment is not lost on you, and your eyes soften. 

“I am not a fine Lady of the court,” you swallow, “nor am I a whore.” He blinks and cups your cheeks keeping your eyes fixed on him. 

“I hope I did not give the impression that I see you as such, and you are better than all those Ladies in their fancy gowns and laden with jewels. You see me. Arthur.” You slowly drag his hands down your cheeks and stand from his lap. For a moment, he looks like he will reach for you again, but with a slight shake of your head, he drops his hands to his lap; closing his eyes, he leans his head back against the chair with a small thump. 

His eyes open suddenly, lashes fluttering as you cup his cheek and press your lips to his for one final kiss. “Goodnight, Arthur,” you whisper, “same time tomorrow?” His eyes light up, and his lips turn into a smile. 

“Same time tomorrow.” 

Taglist: @chicken-ona-stick @agirllovespancakes @ghostwiththemostbitch @the-purity-pen @paintballkid711 @wasicskosgirl @fantasticcopeaglepasta @sarahjkl82-blog @boxdyeblonde @rosiefridayrogersunday @yeah-seems-legit  @mimimi-stuff  @ladyblogger-margie @memyselfandellasworld @peterhollandkait @itspdameronthings @emmy626 @luv-nd-serenity @randomness501  @littlebopper96 @alexmarie29 @hell-is-my-second-home666 @thisshipwillsail316 @madslorian @no-droids-on-sunday @glixxr @sfr99 @pedro-pastel @we-can-be-himbos  @sleep-tight1 @sarhabee @its--fandom--darling @im-an-adult-ish @lunarthoughts @jedi-mando @idreamofboobear @aerolanya @rebelliouscat @veracruz-djarin @marvelprincess1994 @thirstworldproblemss @spacelatinoss  @martellthemandalor @kesskirata @waatermelon-sugaar @jitterbugs927 @helga1031  @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell

[i-need-entertainment]

Wait

Character: Hanamaki x reader

Hanamaki didn’t know what to expect from the day when he woke up. But running desperately through an airport trying to catch the love of his life from leaving without confessing his feelings was definitely not at the top of his list. He didn’t really know what he’d say if he was able to catch you in time, he just knew he needed to tell you- before he never got the chance.

 Today was the first day of summer vacation, yesterday having been the last day of his 2nd year of high school, and today being the last day of volleyball practice for 2 whole weeks. So imagine his surprise when he walked into practice, expecting to be greeted by their beautiful funny and wonderful manager, you, only to not see you there at all…”Eh, Mattsun..where’s Y/n?” Matsukawa put on a shocked, then saddened expression. “She didn’t tell you?” Hanamaki’s face fell. You didn’t tell him…what? “Um…no? What’s going on, where is she?” Matsukawa looked away before sighing and looking back at his friend in sadness. “Dude…she’s gone…or she will be. She’s moving to (country of choice) today. She seriously didn’t tell you?” Hanamaki felt his heart drop to his stomach a wave of nausea coming over him. Fighting through the cracks in his voice he managed to sneak out a pained ‘what?’. Matsukawa nodded giving his friend a firm pat on the shoulder before turning around. “Which airport?” Matsukawa deviously smiled before his sad expression returned when he turned to face Hanamaki. “Sendai Airport.” Before anyone could say anything Hanamaki was running out of the gym towards the nearest train station. ”…You know, as much as I say it to Oikawa, you’re a real crappy guy Matsukawa..” Iwaizumi said as he slapped the back of his head. Sighing Matsukawa rubbed the back of his head before shrugging a dorky smile making its way to his face. “Yeaaahhh I know. But how else was he ever gonna tell her?” Rolling his eyes the newly appointed ace and vice-captain turned towards the team, “Minus Hanamaki, let’s make this last practice count guys!” After several train rides, nearly tripping on his own two feet a couple thousand times and going through airport security as fast as he could he was now running through the airport looking, no searching for a familiar head of h/c hair. While he was losing his mind, he couldn’t help but keep wondering, ‘why didn’t she tell me?’. You didn’t know it but Makki had had the biggest crush on you since first year. Not only did he find you extremely pretty but you were also funny, enjoyable to be around, easy to talk to and you had been super supportive of him…so it was pretty inevitable that he had caught feelings for you. But did he tell you that, of course he didn’t. HOW COULD HE?!!? Sure, he knew he wasn’t bad looking but standing next to Oikawa he felt like chump change. Matsukawa was taller, Iwaizumi had bigger muscles, he just felt…average. But you, even if he saw you as out of his league, you made him feel like he was the most special person on earth. You chose to spend your time with him, you chose to tell him all your secrets and troubles. And you chose to kiss him…oh…maybe that’s why you’re leaving. In all fairness it’s not like the two of you kissed on the lips, you kissed him on the cheek. But seeing as you kind of ran away after made him think you regretted it…so he let it go, since he didn’t want to make you more uncomfortable with him than he already did. Even if he couldn’t have you as his girlfriend, he still wanted you as a friend. Even if it would hurt, he at least wanted you by his side. Dodging yet another small child he continued on his way. ‘Gate B…Gate B…where the hECK is Gate B!!’ He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, his hands finding their way to his knees as his chest heaved. But he couldn’t stop, he couldn’t just let you go from his life like that. “*pant* Y/n….gotta…find…Y/n…” He paused for a moment when he felt a small tug on his sleeve. Looking up from his hunched over position he saw a small girl with her mom behind her. “Uhm…did you say you were looking for Y/n?” Makki’s eyes widened as he knelt down in front of the small girl profusely nodding his head. The little girl looked back at her mom making sure he was okay to talk to. “My name is Hanamaki Takahiro, I’m a friend of Y/n’s…I really need to talk to her.” The little girls eyes widened, she knew that name. “Y/n’s my big sister, she talks about you a lot. She’s over there,” The little girl pointed to the one area Makki hadn’t gone yet. “You better be fast, she’s gonna leave soon.” Hanamaki stood up thanking the little girl and her mom, er, your little sister and your mom before running off in that direction. His heart was racing, his lungs were about to give out, and if his adrenaline were to wear off he’s pretty confident he’d pass out. But that all went to the back of his mind when he saw the h/c locks he loved so much. Those same h/c locks that were about to board the plane. “WAIT!” Just as you were about to board your flight (albeit incredibly early) you paused, recognizing that familiar voice, turning around you especially recognized that head of strawberry colored hair. “What- Makki? Makki what are you doing here-“He paused your questions with one of his hands while he stood there hunched over with the other hand on his knee. “I *pant* I had to tell you…” You stepped out of line, walking towards him, as you did this a small crowd had gathered around the two of you. “Tell me what? Can it wa-“He stood now, walking towards you as he took his hands in yours. He shook his head, his hair was hilariously disheveled “No…no it really can’t” He looked up, intense gray eyes looking into your e/c ones. He let out a shaky sigh before starting again. “Listen, I’ve got a lot to tell you…and I need you to listen, so please promise me you’ll wait until I’m done…even if you don’t feel the same…just…let me explain…” You opened your mouth to speak before closing it, slowly nodding your head to show him you were ready for him to continue. He took a deep breath, gave himself a firm nod and looked right back in your eyes. “…I’ll give you seven seconds…seven seconds to push me away and if you do I won’t hate you or hold it against you.” You looked at him in confusion before he tugged you towards him, his lips meeting yours with nothing but his love for you. Although passionate, the kiss was short and seeing as it had been more than seven seconds and you were now forehead to forehead with your hands on his face and his just above your hips, he figured you at least didn’t hate him. “I like you…a lot..heh I’ve liked you since our first year. I didn’t tell you because I know you probably don’t like me back…and it’s fine if you don’t! But, I needed to tell you, before you moved and I lost my chance. So, go ahead, you can reject me now, I can take it.” You kept your hands on his cheeks, pulling away only a little so you could look him in the eyes. “Takahiro,” His gray gaze met yours, a little shocked at hearing his first name fall from your lips. “I’m not moving.” His head shot up, “Wait- then why did Mattsu-….that bit-“ He was cut off by your laughter. “Did he tell you I was moving?!?!” Hanamaki sighed as he nodded. Before chuckling, “Yeah, he did...” You smiled as her thumb stroked his cheek. “Takahiro…I’m not moving.”. . . “What?” You laughed before nodding. “I’m just going on vacation for two weeks, I’ll be back.” Makki shook his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?” You looked down, moving your hands to intertwine with his. “After I kissed you the other day, I thought you hated me…I guess I just needed some time…to get over you not returning my feelings. But I guess that’s not really an issue huh” Makki laughed as his head rested against yours once again. “We’re really stupid aren’t we?” you both laughed at your statement. “At least now I won’t be stupid alone. Assuming that it..you’d like to be my girlfriend…?” You nodded smiling as you hugged him tight. “I’d love to…Makki…” He shook his head, “That’s Takahiro to you ma’am.” You both stayed in the other’s arms until you pulled away. “Wait, you actually believed him when he told you I was moving? And then you came all the way here..? You didn’t question it once?” Makki let out a sigh of frustration. “Let’s just call it a heat of the moment thing.” Y/n leaned in and gave him one more kiss, this time to the lips, before pulling away. “I’m glad you did…OH! I have to go! Uhm, I’ll call you, Takahiro~” He nodded his head. “Yeah, and as much as I loved risking my life to get here to complete this awesome scene straight out of a romance movie, I kind of feel like I’m gonna pass out. Have fun on your vacation Y/n, I’ll talk to you later Beloved Girlfriend~” You laughed, gathering your luggage, “Talk to you later Beloved Boyfriend.” Waving to him one last time, you turned and walked onto your plane, claps and whistles all around you two as you both went your separate ways. So, maybe he had been lied to, risked his life, and broken a *few* laws but in the end he ended up with the most precious thing he could ever want…you. So, he headed home with a smile on his face and a pep in his step. He had finally gotten his dream girl, he had finally gotten Y/n L/n.

*Back at the gym*

“So…” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, “’So’ what?” Mattsun couldn’t stop the lop sided smile that formed on his face, “So do you think he figured it out yet?” Iwaizumi shrugged, “Dunno, depends on if he was able to catch her or not.” Mattsun’s smile turned into a full blown smirk. “Oh, believe me, he caught her in time. With the bait I gave him, which he snatched up, there was no way he was ever gonna let her go without telling her. I simply helped light the fire is all.” Iwaizumi’s face held his signature scowl as he shook his head. Sure, he disagreed with Matsukawa’s instigating, but he couldn’t deny he was happy for his friend.

[f1-disaster-bi]

I feel like Lance is ND and his parents hate that he’s not ‘normal’ and try everything to change him. Lando and Este are like home to lance though, where he doesn’t feel like he has to mask at all as he knows they 100% accept everything about him. And as he gets closer to the gang in the law firm he learns that he doesn’t have to mask around them and as he gets older and more confident he just embraces who he is.

Oh I love this!

Lance being ND but being conditioned to hide everything because his parents want the perfect son and to them Lance can't be that if he's queer and ND. So he trains himself to hide

And then he meets Lando who at the same time as everyone telling him to hide and 'be normal', loves Lance so wholly for being himself and encourages Lance to be and love himself and helps him build up a lot of confidence

And then he loses Lando and that goes away a little until he meets Esteban who is the first person since Lando to just love Lance for Lance

When he has the two of them in the one place Lance can finally relax and let that facade he but fall away and let others in because he knows as long as Lando and Esteban are by his side, he can do anything including being authentically himself

[the-ace-with-spades]

(4/6) the best is yet to come

five times someone realized Ronan and Adam were basically married and one time they actually were

Part 1 │Part 2 │Part 3 │Part 5 │Part 6

Read on ao3

Matty liked Adam. It was not the simple liking he gave everyone he met but something much deeper and more familial — it had a lot to do with how Adam could make Ronan smile the way their whole family used to could.

But also with the way he could explain math.

Declan offered to get him a tutor when they moved to DC but he never liked the idea of a stranger in their house or a stranger seeing how stupid he was exactly. There were probably other dangers with engaging the Lynch family into the normal business, like prep school — which Matty hated the very idea of — so Declan often preferred to tutor Matty himself. It usually ended up with thrown textbooks, screams and another promise of getting Matty a tutor but Matty didn't mind. His grades weren't as critical and he could still get into college, even if it wasn't an Ivy League like Declan would prefer.

In the worst-case scenario, Matty could help Ronan with the farm. Being a farmer was something that sounded like a nice way to make a living. Although that would probably give Declan a hernia.

Matty would usually come to the Barns for the weekend, unless he had other plans with his friends, and help Ronan around until Sunday Mass, after which they would eat dinner together and then Ronan would drive him to catch the bus to Washington or Declan would pick him up, if he was going to the Mass that week.

Most of the time, Adam was also there for at least some of his stay. Matty was pretty sure he moved in with Ronan a few months before and was just pretending he didn't have his own shelves in Ronan's wardrobe, or his own laptop in their dad's study, or the shoes on the porch, or the weird, super-caffeinated green tea, all for the sake of appearances.

When Matty arrived on Friday evening the day before and Ronan went to the bus station to pick him up, the first thing Matty saw at the Barns, was Adam, lying shirtless under a tractor.

It was the one in obnoxious yellow color that their dad used to say was his favorite and it hadn't worked since before their dad died. It was easy to forget Adam was a simple mechanic, as of right now, when he could talk in this weird, Declan-sque way when he sounded both like a teenage boy and a lawyer of twenty years. It was even weirder to remember that Adam was the one that finally coerced Ronan to set up a legitimate firm and pay all the necessary taxes on the property and invest in the modern stuff while Declan tried to do that since he heard Ronan was dropping out to become a farmer.

Matty didn't say anything to this because he was still feeling the wariness Ronan had when it came to the whole being gay thing. Declan said they should leave him alone with it until he was completely ready so Matty never said anything about anything Adam, or Ronan, or Adam and Ronan had done.

He wasn't complaining when Adam offered him to help with algebra while Ronan prepared dinner.

This was also what made Adam feel so familial very quickly — the obvious naturalness of the whole motion.

Matty didn't remember much of their father as he never had that much of contact with him. He supposed that if he did, his parents would probably be in the same position as Ronan and Adam — mom would be preparing dinner and dad would be helping one of his sons with homework. And as strange as the concept of Ronan taking their mom's place on the farm was, it was actually true. Their dad was away so often that throughout most of the year, their mom was the head of the farm and did most of the chores that living with animals and acres of land involved.

Adam didn't look much out of place either. Even though he was at the house more than their dad had — or so Matty assumed, since they were still lying about the moving in thing — despite constant school and work, he belonged there in a way that felt like he was born to live there.

Adam explained his homework, Ronan cooked spinach cream pasta. They ate dinner.

"I'll do the dishes," Adam offered.

"Shut up and sit down, Parrish," Ronan replied, with a tone that was more suited for love confessions or romantic songs.

"Ronan."

"You're not doing the dishes, you worked the whole day so sit on your ass for five minutes and do this thing we normal people love called rest."

Matty wouldn't exactly call any of them normal.

Adam sat down and sighed. He and Ronan had the exact same conversation every time Matty came for the weekend.

"But I'm doing the dishes next time."

Matty had never seen him do the dishes despite him saying it every time.

"Are you staying for the night?" Matty asked because he liked to indulge people — if Adam moving in was something they wanted to hide, then he would pretend it was still a secret.

There was banging on the back door, which was also in the kitchen. Ronan opened the door grumbling and Opal came through.

"Go wash up, munchkin," Ronan said, sounding very much like their mom.

Matty decided to focus on Adam, who admitted, "Yeah, I'll be staying for a couple of days."

By a couple, he probably meant forever but Matty didn't plan to call him out unless it'd be in the speech he was going to give at their wedding.

Opal came back from the bathroom with wet hair and even a wetter t-shirt.

He had never thought someone could sigh with a tone of a tired parent without actually being a tired parent but Adam did.

"Let's get you in your PJs, sugarplum."

Ronan stared after Adam with his hands still in the sink. Matty stared at him.

"What?" he asked when he finally turned his gaze away from Adam and Opal.

"Nothing."

They watched Fast and Furious until Opal fell asleep on the floor and Ronan took her to bed. Matty said goodnight and went to his room, clean of dust and dirty clothes like every weekend he was staying at the Barns and that was it.

Matty woke up in the early morning hours and went down to the kitchen. Adam was there, making coffee, with a book in one hand.

"Ronan is out?" he asked, instead of a greeting.

"Nah," Adam said. "I let him sleep in today and fed the chickens earlier. He doesn't sleep that well still, you know. Coffee?"

There was a lot to unpack in those words so instead of doing that, Matty said, "Yeah."

Lynches were very good at not addressing the obvious, really.

And so were Adam.

They drank their coffee, Adam left their empty mugs in the sink when the stairs creaked.

Adam put the kettle on again.

Ronan came through the door, with a well-rested face but sleepy eyes, looking just the same way he used to look on Christmas morning. He smiled in an easy manner that had become uncommon for him over time and went straight for Adam, halting an inch or two before his face. Adam's lips quirked when he leaned in his direction.

"Had a good sleep?"

Ronan's arms wound around his waist and said, "The bed was cold."

And then he closed the gap and kissed him, with Adam's palm curling around his nape in one smooth move.

One of the things Matty remembered clearly about their parents, as a single entity and not two separate people, was how affectionate they were. Their mom had a soft touch that worked on almost anyone but especially on their father — he had melted under her hands, melted into long hugs, longs stares, long kisses.

So Matty tried to look at his coffee instead of at Ronan and Adam because this kiss did feel like watching your parents, with the second-hand embarrassment and the general confusion, and he hadn't been quite ready for that.

"Morning breath, babe," Adam said, between breaths.

Ronan's lips were just in the corner of his mouth.

"Don't care."

And then Ronan's hand was moving lower and lower on Adam's waist, lifting his t-shirt, until his fingertips were dipping into the elastic band of Adam's pajamas and—

Matty cleared his throat. This was way more than kissing and way more than he wanted to ever see.

Adam stepped away from Ronan, seemingly as awkward as Matty felt on the inside.

"Sorry, Matty," he said.

And then, in a manner that was very much alike their dad's, Ronan said. "I'm not sorry."

[ashintheairlikesnow]

No Matter What

CW: Hungover whumpee – headache, nausea, etc all mentioned. Alcohol use referenced. References to throwing up, nothing graphic or descriptive. References to conditioning, past noncon and its effect on a whumpee and their view of themselves years later, trauma responses, and trauma recovery. VERY brief transphobia reference. References to domestic violence and child abuse, including verbal abuse and abandonment. 

I… promise I was going for fluff.

Set post this drabble where Chris is drinking and this one where Laken gets him back to Jake’s house. 

Tagging: @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @stxckfxck, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout, @doveotions

Oh, he hurts.

His head is one giant throbbing ache, like someone wrapped a hammer in wool and smacked around his brain until it bounced against his skull. The worst pain is just behind his eyes and he can barely crack them open before he has to squinch them shut again, pulling a pillow over his head with a groan to hide from the hint of morning sunlight cutting lines through the blinds.

He knows enough to know he’s in his own room at home, not his dorm, but he’s not entirely sure how he got here and why he’d come here, anyway. 

One hand presses the pillow down - the pressure against the top of his head feels so good, cool from the pillowcase but firm, soothing some of the ache - and the other moves to find the feather around his neck, rubbing at the little carved vanes in the gray plastic. Did he take the feather last night? He must have, but he can’t remember anything past throwing up Sir’s favorite martini in the bar’s bathroom, rinsing his mouth out, drinking water straight from the bathroom sink and then going back out to order a gin and tonic and do it all again.

He hurts.

Did the bartender refuse to give him the gin and tonic? He might have, he knows Kauri, all the ones who know Kauri - and it feels like every bar in town knows Kauri and half the men in them - seem to know who Chris is, too, the second he walks in the door.

He hopes the bartender refused him.

He hopes he didn’t offer the bartender anything more than money.

There’s a shifting weight in the bed next to him and Chris freezes, for just a second the breath catches in his throat, but then he relaxes with the knowledge that it can only be Jake or Antoni, there aren’t anymore silk sheets, there aren’t anymore nights with his hands gripping the headboard to hold back the scream inside his head, there won’t ever be again.

Dead in the ground, rotting away, his Sir can’t hurt him anymore.

Chris swallows - there’s a pain in his throat, too, probably from throwing up, and his mouth tastes awful, his tongue is a dry dead weight - and dares peek out from under the pillow.

Laken lays next to him in the bed on their stomach, naked except for their underwear, a pair of black boxer briefs that look like bike shorts, lying on their stomach and Chris would love the way the light hits their shoulder blades if he wasn’t hurting too badly to focus his eyes.

Their hair is a riot of thick black curls across the pillow their head rests on, lips curled in the slightest half-smile. Chris just watches their back rise and fall as they breathe for a few seconds, wondering what happened after his last memory - stumbling out of the bathroom at the bar, shoving Will away, going back to the bar for another drink.

Hating himself for being glad his Sir is gone, hating his Sir for what he had done to Chris’s life, loving his Sir for all the times he was the only good thing in the world, loving him so much he couldn’t bear the loss.

Laken is beautiful, their mouth slightly open, parted just enough to show a hint of the bottom of their top teeth, maybe the slightest bit of pink tongue. Black eyelashes lay so lightly along their skin, eyeliner from the night before still there with the little swoop at the ends smudged into something closer to smoke than kohl.

Laken is a lightning bolt that walks the earth near him, and Chris is a bit of copper tarnished, turning green, a penny rubbed to shiny nothingness with all the hands that have touched him when he had no voice to refuse their attention.

Laken is worth everything there is, and Chris feels like money no one will take because too many hands have already held it.

Chris’s fumbles blindly off the bed, searching for the side table he knows is right there, finding his phone facedown next to the lamp and pulling it under the pillow with him. The lockscreen is a photo of he and Laken together down by the campus lake, Laken in their usual black-and-slightly-less-black with a slight knowing smile and Chris laughing at whatever Dill was saying when he took the picture. He winces at the brightness, the light and the looks on their faces, and unlocks it with the pincode, 5-2-5-3. 

The homescreen is he and Jake and Antoni standing outside the house the day it belonged to Jake for real, Jake holding the deed in one hand and his arm around Chris’s shoulders, all of them smiling. Chris kind of hates that photo, too, right now. 

He scrolls through text messages, wincing as he sees his own words garbled, letters switched, eventually nearly nonsensical. He wants to sink into the ground and disappear when he sees seven calls, three to Laken, two to Jake, one to Antoni, a final call to Laken again. He must have called them to come get him, but he can’t remember any of these calls, not one.

There’s a soft sound from near the door and Chris pulls the pillow off his head, wincing as the pounding headache suddenly worsens, making him close his eyes against it and whimper, lowin his throat. Oh, last night was a mistake. Through his eventual hesitant squint, he can see Jake framed in the open doorway, holding two steaming mugs of coffee, with the white childproof cap to a bottle of tylenol visible just above the rounded shape of the pill bottle stuck in his front pocket. 

Chris blinks at him - once, twice, three times - and then slowly nods, watching Jake come in. He’s so tall, full of muscle and there’s so much to him. Jake is sunlight and a warm touch and Chris should have known Jake would be the second thing he saw when he woke up here, that he would have coffee ready.

Jake’s eyes flicker to where Laken is still sleeping, then back to Chris, and he carefully gestures at them with his coffee. It takes Chris’s hurting, slow-moving brain a minute to realize Jake wants him to cover Laken up more, give them some privacy so Jake can’t see their back, see them topless, see them without the ever-present binder that Chris pictures even when he thinks of Laken naked.

Laken seems so vulnerable, without it. Lightning brought lower, closer to earth. Chris pulls the covers up on their side until only their head and hair is showing and then slowly pushes himself up to seated, rubbing at his forehead, swallowing over and over even though his mouth is dry. 

“G-... g’mornin’, Jake,” He whispers. His throat hurts. How much did he throw up last night? Did he throw up here, too, not just in the bar?

“Hey, kiddo.” The scrape of the ceramic against the side table as Jake sets down the mugs is so loud. Chris whines and drops his head back down, looking pitiful and he knows it. His hair is a dirty blue mess around his head, from sweating and dancing and holding it back with one hand as he bent over a barroom toilet, crying all his grief out.

He wants to cut all his hair off, suddenly. Shave it short, as short as the hair on the sides of Laken’s head. Let it grow in strawberry blond all over again, back how he used to be, when his hair was the thing Sir loved most about him. Would sit and rub it between thumb and forefinger while Chris hid under his desk, perfectly still and silent, statue boy to decorate a man’s days nd nights. 

Laken shifts but doesn’t wake, and Chris is too dirty, too gross to be anywhere near someone so good and clean and without all the things Chris has had to learn, to do. Did he and Laken talk last night? He has memories, he thinks, of taking his shirt off - of Laken leaning over him - of maybe saying things he knows he should regret, but he can’t remember what exactly he said.

The pain and the cotton-brain want him to stay lying down but the feeling of how dirty he is, inside and out, drives Chris up. The grime on his skin, left by his handler and his Sir and everything that hurt him inside and out, pulls him out of the bed to stand on trembling legs in just his boxers - when had his pants come off? How had his pants come off? Laken maybe? He picks up one of the coffees and leaves the other for if Laken wakes up and moves, one hand holding the feather bumping against his bare chest, the other clutching the coffee as a lifeline. 

It’s not until they’re in the hallway with the door closed behind them that Jake says, in a low voice, “How you feeling?”

“Like I, I, I-I-I ate a live ostrich and, and threw it back up and then ate another one,” Chris mutters, and Jake’s lips twitch in a smile he tries to hide underneath genuine sympathy.

“I’m sorry, man.” Jake pushes a bit of hair out of his eyes for him as Chris takes a sip, and the coffee doesn’t taste like anything but hot but that’s still better than the taste that was in his mouth before. 

“Sorry for, for, for what?” 

“That I forgot the day. I’ve been really busy with work shit and I let it slip that it was going to be the anniversary yesterday. I should’ve called you, been there for you, and I wasn’t. I knew it would be hard.” Jake’s blue eyes are full of utter sincere regret, and Chris moves to him with all the instinctive trust and need he’s always had for his big brother to fold his arms around him, hold him, chase away the lingering need to be good.

Some of the pain fades, in Jake’s arms, like it always has. 

“You don’t have to, to… to babysit me just because he’s dead a year,” Chris mumbles against the fabric of Jake’s t-shirt. Same smell as always - same laundry detergent, same Jake-skin, same deodorant, same same same. The smell of safe. “I, I shouldn’t have gone out, anyway.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve all gone out and gotten blackout over stupid shit before, in this house,” Jake says gently, resting his chin lightly on Chris’s head. “I once got drunk and called an ex-boyfriend and cried about how much I missed him when I was the one who dumped him. For cheating on me. Six times. So… no judgement here. Recovery’s a process, not a straight line, man.”

“You, you, you you you sound like Nat.”

“Yeah, well, my whole career plan is to turn into her, isn’t it? Might as well start there.” 

There’s a silence for a second, and Chris sighs, keeping his eyes closed, not willing to face the light and the pain in his head again just yet. “I think I, I, I said something stupid to Laken last night.”

“Couldn’t have been too stupid, they came downstairs after you fell asleep talking about how great you are.” Jake shrugs, the movement shifting him where he holds Chris. 

“They did not.” Chris feels blood rush to his face, the flush in his cheeks making him dizzy. His stomach lurches and spins with nausea but sipping the coffee, held so carefully between his body and Jake’s, helps. “They, they, they they-they did not.”

“Yep. They got you to bed around 2 and we were up ‘til almost 4 just talking about how fucking great you are. Accept it, kiddo, you’re stuck with both of us even on your bad nights.”

Chris is quiet for a long moment and then whispers, “He didn’t even-... even have me that, that, that-that that… that long.”

It takes Jake a second to change gears when Chris does, and then he takes in a breath. “It’s not about time, Chris. This shit doesn’t work that way.”

“I, I didn’t want to be good, Jake. I always… I, I always wanted to scream.”

“I know, man.” Jake presses a kiss to dirty blue hair, without hesitating, without caring what Chris looks like, how everything about him feels gross now. Layered over with what was taken away, what he can’t get back. “I know you did.”

“I… think I tried, to, to get Laken to… have sex with me last night.” The words tremble, they’re miserable. He’s ashamed of himself for trying to make something happen he didn’t even want, just because it would have felt familiar. Reliving the memories he has, forgetting for a while about the ones he wasn’t allowed to keep.

“They wouldn’t have,” Jake says. There’s a pause, and then he adds, “And I’d slaughter them myself if they did. Just… I could probably google how to hide a body, right?”

Chris can’t help the way he shakes in silent laughter, but it makes his head hurt worse and he buries himself back against Jake’s collarbone, sipping the coffee in the safety of Jake’s arms. “Probably, sh-... shouldn’t. Get on a, a, a list.”

“Oh, Chris. I’ve been on a government fucking watchlist since I got arrested at my first pet lib protest. I like being on all their lists. Makes me feel important. C’mon, let’s go downstairs, I’ll make some eggs and hash browns to soak up all that alcohol you poisoned yourself with.” Jake moves, and Chris goes with him, secure in the arm that stays around his shoulders, in the slight rattle of the painkillers in Jake’s pocket as they head down the hall. He can hear Antoni’s light snoring from behind his bedroom door and smiles, just a little. It’s nice, having Laken come here, be part of the other half of his life, the one where he can be safely known.

Jake gets him settled at the table, keeping the lights off and the kitchen dim, pulling the curtains closed. In the slightly surreal half-light Chris feels more relaxed, pulls his feet up to sit cross-legged on the kitchen chair, feeling at the feather hanging around his neck, letting the shift of air through the kitchen make his skin feel less sticky and gross, less dirtied by last night and the years before.

“More coffee?”

Somehow Chris had had the whole cup. He frowns down into it and then looks back up at Jake. “Is, is, is is is it okay for me to have, um, more?”

“More caffeine? Yeah, Chris. Trust me, everyone in this house needs more sleep than what we got last night. Three cups of coffee’ll knock you right out, and here we are at two.” Jake pours him more, even adds milk and sugar for him, and Chris hums and takes more sips, finally tasting the coffee’s flavor and not just its temperature. Something in him soothes, as his thumb rubs at the rough ridges in the feather necklace again and again and again. 

“I, I… I think I should, uh, break up with Laken.”

Jake stills, at the cutting board where he’s grating potatoes for the hashbrowns. He doesn’t look back at Chris, but there’s a tension in his shoulders when he asks, “Now why would you need to do that?”

Chris swallows another mouthful of coffee, and answers in a low voice. “They shouldn’t have to, to, to-to deal with this, Jake. With…” He pauses, and the words bottleneck in his mind, three separate tracks of thought colliding in a terrible wreck of with someone this dirty with someone who was used like this with someone who misses the man who hurt them with someone like me 

with someone like me 

with someone like me

“Chris… I’m the last person to lecture on trust issues, or pushing people away, but…” Jake takes a breath and looks over at him. Chris’s lower lip trembles, just a little, at the wealth of love in his eyes. “Have you considered that it’s Laken’s decision to make? That they’ve already had the chance to say it’s too much - when they found out what you had to heal from - and instead they chose to stay?”

“But-”

“Ask them if they want to handle it, but I know that if you were my boyfriend, I’d want to stay.” Jake goes back to grating the potatoes, his hand moving in sure strokes to press the flat-cut end of the rounded potato and Chris watches the thin grated bits create a small pile under the grater, like a rounded pyramid. 

“Even though-”

“Even though.” Jake says it firmly, strong as every stone they pulled out of the backyard to make the new garden and moved to the front to look like landscaping. “I talked to your partner for two hours last night, Chris, and all they talked about that whole time was how great you are and how much they fucking love you.”

There are tears in Chris’s eyes that run down his face when he ducks his chin to hide them. His stomach roils, his throat aches, his head throbs and the coffee is only barely holding off the bad taste in his mouth. He doesn’t know what he said or did after the bar bathroom except he kind of thinks he came on to Laken in ways he didn’t want to, because lying in the bed screaming in his mind underneath someone who didn’t care had felt, for just a while, like it might be closer to who he really is than all the things he’d worked so hard to build after.

“When you love somebody,” Jake says, talking as though he doesn’t know that Chris is sniffling but really he does and he’s giving him the space to calm. Chris feels gratitude cut him apart into ribbons for the moments Jake will give him to breathe. “You do what you have to do. Sometimes that means being there when they fall apart.” Jake pauses, staring into space, then starts grating the next potato. “Sometimes it means… other things, going with them or letting them go or forgiving them for stupid shit they did a long time ago-”

Chris smiles, wondering what Nat’s up to today, anyway.

“-but last night Laken saw you fall to pieces and said, that one, that’s the one I want, that boy who lived through hell and came out smiling, that’s the Chris for me. Let that count, man. Let that mean something. They fucking love you. Shit run of luck and all.”

“I… I know.”

“Bigger than that, they think you deserve the love, just like Ant and I think you deserve it. Just like Nat thinks so, just like Kauri, just like everybody loves you, Chris, even on the days you don’t love yourself. I know everybody in this house absolutely fucking sucks at remembering to care as much for ourselves as we do for other people, but…”

Jake sighs and steps over to the table, opens up the painkiller bottle, lays two small blue pills in front of Chris. Chris fights back the residual fear and takes them, swallowing them dry. He’s never lost the ability to take pills whenever they are given to him, only lost the requirement.

“These will help your hangover. I can’t give you anything to fix feeling down on yourself except tell you that we’re all here, and I’m sorry, again, for forgetting about yesterday.”

“It’s b-been… it’s been almost f-five years since you saved me. I sh-shouldn’t… shouldn’t ever-... I shouldn’t, um, shouldn’t care any, anymore, right?”

Jake spreads the potatoes out on a baking pan, shakes salt and pepper over the top, slides them into the oven and sets the timer. A faint blast of heat from the oven hits Chris just before the door closes again.

Jake pours himself a cup of coffee, then, and sits across the table from Chris, holding the cup in both hands and looking him right in the eyes. 

“My dad sent me fucking packing when I was fourteen years old,” Jake says, quietly, holding Chris’s gaze with his own. “With a black eye and my backpack still packed. The last thing my dad ever said to me was that I wasn’t worth loving, wasn’t his son anymore, my mom’s life and his would’ve been better if I never existed. The very last thing he said before I got on that bus was Jacob Collins Stanton, you are the worst mistake I wish I never made.”

His voice never wavers as he speaks, and Chris stares at him, his hangover forgotten in the wake of the horrified cold that washes through him at how casually Jake speaks, describing abandonment in the same tones he might talk about his least favorite topping for pizza.

“I haven’t seen him since then. I’m almost thirty, Chris. I haven’t seen my dad for half my fucking life and sometimes I still hear his voice in my head, telling me that shit. You were a mistake, no one’s going to love you, all that shit. It still makes it hard for me to trust anyone because if I couldn’t-...” Jake’s voice hitches only slightly then, but his face is impassive, hard to read. 

His face tells Chris nothing, and the simple act of removing his usual open expressions tells Chris everything, too.

“-... if I couldn’t be good enough for the people who made me, who can I be good enough for? More than half my life, man, and I still… still live the way I do because of what that asshole tried to make me believe about myself and my mom. It built my whole life, that last conversation, because I thought to myself that I was going to be a better person than he was in every fucking way. And... here we are. So… yeah, it’s been five years, but you also do a lot of not letting yourself think about it, and… I think it caught up with you, man. The way it catches up with me sometimes, too.”

Chris keeps his hands curved around his coffee mug, then, and says softly, “I love you.”

“Yeah, I know. I love you, too.” Jake takes a drink of his coffee, gives Chris a half-smile. “It’s normal to have stuff come back like this. Especially when you do so much pretending it’s not there. Trust me, I know. Next time, though… call us before you need a ride home from a bar, huh? I’d rather be the one that goes with you, and I know Laken would have gone with you last night, too, if you’d asked. We… everyone in this house right now, including Laken… knows what it means to be told you’re too fucked up to deserve the love that you should never have been denied. But it’s a fucking lie.”

“The love?”

“The idea that you don’t deserve it. You deserved the life you had before they took it from you, you deserve the life you’re living now. You deserve Laken, and more importantly - Laken wants to be here. They’re choosing you, every time. Let them choose you. You’re not dirtied, I’m not a mistake, Antoni’s not responsible for all the pain he went through. Promise to remember that, if I do?”

Chris pauses, then reaches his hand out across the table for Jake to take, closing his eyes at the feeling of Jake’s thumb rubbing back and forth across his knuckles. “Promise. I, I, I’m not dirty.”

“I’m not a mistake.”

“An, Antoni isn’t a, um, a a a a bad person.”

“Laken’s a fucking deity and no asshole hiding behind his bigotry gets to tell them whether or not they’re worth loving unconditionally.”

Chris snorts laughter and opens his eyes to see Jake grinning at him, head tilted, coffee mug in hand. “You really did talk to them last night.”

“Yeah, I probably know more about their life story than you do by now. We bonded over shitty dads.”

Chris hesitates, then says again, “I’m, I’m not… dirty.”

Jake holds his eyes. “I’m not a mistake.”

“I’m good… good enough for Laken to, to, to-to love me. Even when, when I’m drunk and, and do stupid things.”

“Even when you’re drunk and do stupid things.”

“Even though I used to be-... to do-...” He can’t finish the sentence. He lets the silence hang between them, full of all the words he won’t say. 

“Even then.” Jake squeezes his hand, and Chris squeezes back. “You can’t do anything, or have anything done to you, that takes away what you deserve. We love you, Chris, whether you like it or not. You’re stuck with a couple of fucked-up brothers and Laken, too. We’re all choosing you.”

Chris feels the tears again, barely holds them off, and smiles through blurry vision at Jake, who won’t let him fall too far into the cold horror of the light, who always pulls him back to the dark.

Upstairs, Laken sleeps, another person in this house who saw Chris fall apart and still said that one, that’s my Chris, the boy who went to hell and back, that’s the one I won’t let go of.

No matter what.

[lihikainanea]

Amnesia:Tiger wanting to be more independent because she hates feeling helpless. She decides she wants a cup, but sets her sights on the one all the way up top. (Even though Bill moved the ones she liked using to the bottom for her) Climbing on top of the counter, she gets fairly dizzy and can’t really figure out how to get down. She yells for Bill to stay in the hallway though, but he walks in and he starts having a full blown panic, that she should do this EVER.

:*****-)

GOOD DUDE BILL. God, this image of him not only knowing which cups or mugs she likes, but then taking the initiative to move them all to the lower shelves so that she’s not climbing the kitchen like a concussed baboon.

But like, maybe tiger likes NEW mugs now. And she sees one at the top of the shelf that just like...she’s gotta have. She doesn’t know why. But she’s gotta have it. She takes it slow, trying to reach for it. Then bracing one knee on the counter and reaching more, then eventually climbing the counter. And she goes to actually stand on it, but a head rush hits and she stops--suddenly, she just seems pretty high off the ground. Her knees start to shake and she groans a little but like, listen--Bill could tune into that groan from 4 blocks away with noise-cancelling headphones. When tiger is hurt, Bill has fucking spidey senses. And from the living room, tiger hears him get up and call to her.

“All good,” she says, “Stay there.”

Bill cocks a brow. Now he KNOWS something is up. And when he reaches the kitchen, his eyes widen and he throws his book to the side.

“Tiger!” he admonishes. He crosses the kitchen in two steps, and then a firm arm is being wrapped around her waist and she’s lifted.

“What the hell are you doing?” he sets her feet down, “Why didn’t you ask me for help?”

“Because I don’t need--ohhhh,” mid sentence, tiger just kind of wilts and falls forward onto him.

“Tiger?” he asks in alarm, wrapping his arms around her so he can support her weight.

“I’m good,” she slurs slightly, “Just a head rush. Stay still bud.”

Bill doesn’t move. He barely even breathes as she leans on him. She’s so dizzy she can’t even clutch at his arms, she’s just kind of face-planted in his chest. It passes after a long moment, and she slowly gets her feet back under her nd unpastes her cheek from his chest.

“What were you doing kid?” he asks softly, “That was dangerous.”

“I wanted the mug on top,” she mumbles, “And it didn’t seem that high, but then it seemed really high.”

He sighs, plopping a kiss on her head. Her eyes are still going in different directions from her dizzy spell.

“You need to lie down,” he tells her, “Come on.”

Something in her features contort, and Bill quirks a brow.

“I will,” she says, “Right after I throw up. Move, bud.”

She’s not quite coordinated enough so Bill has to pick her up and run to the bathroom, barely making it in time.

[docholligay]

FOR THE FLUFFY DAY: Haruka and Mina + braiding

Fluff piece two! 1778 words, I HOPE THE FACT THAT THESE ARE LONGER ARE MAKING UP FOR QUANTITY. From the Talismans rewrite, located here

Mina didn’t mind a hard night, not really. There was something very clarifying about a good fight, and she understood, in some ways, how Haruka and Mako--sometimes the more annoying of her soldiers-- could constantly be looking to get into the middle of the fray without a second’s thought. It was nice to simply start the ass-beating and skip all of the strategy, sometimes. 

Last night had been like that. Wave on wave of mindless youma, Mina and Rei fighting them off alone for what should have felt like far too long but always filled Mina with a certain amount of dangerous, almost erotic thrill, Rei covering her with a flurry of arrows as she burst into the fray with her chain. 

It had been really fun until Mina got caught out, and then she’d gotten a little more of the business end of the youma than she’d bargained for. It had been fine, really--Mina was rarely defeated even when she was down, and this time was no different--and as the other senshi showed themselves, rushing to the scene, the youma had been defeated with the usual expediency. 

It was always the next morning that got you, though. 

Mina half-limped herself to the couch that morning, still in nothing but the overlarge shirt she’d managed to pull on and her underwear, not bothering with anything else, proud enough of herself for daring to move at all. Her hair hung around her face and how her back, bedraggled and half-tangled from the fight. Magical healing. It was a thing, that much was true, but it never stopped things from hurting. She felt every broken bone, every torn sinew of her muscle, even if it didn’t kill her. Even if it would be all sorted out in a few days, the pull of whatever spell kept them in good order exerting its own painful force on their bodies as it forcibly knit them back together, readying them for the next fight. 

It was a blessing, and it was bullshit, in the way that a lot of things in Mina’s life seemed to be. 

Ignoring the hour on the clock, she pulled a cheap beer out of the fridge, and with herculean effort, her shoulder screaming, popped off the bottle cap, washing down several ibuprofen with the swig of it. She should have bought some Oxys off of Hayato. He always had something, though even Mina couldn’t even begin to guess how he had such a firm supply. 

In fairness, she couldn’t have foreseen the fight last night, and even less so her own misstep. All things being equal, she shouldn’t be shuffling around the apartment. She gave a gaze to the various takeout boxes and other assorted foods in the tiny kitchen, but shook her head, before realizing what and awful choice that was and enjoying a full-body wince, which caused other parts to hurt, and as the black dot confetti of pain settled over her, she managed to slump onto the couch. 

She normally didn’t mind a hard night, but this was a little much. 

The heavy footfall across the apartment meant her roommate was up and around. She wasn’t in any mood for whatever sort of angst having seen Michiru last night was going to bring out in Haruka, and closed her eyes. Maybe she could play dead. 

“Mina, you okay?” 

No such luck. Mina opened one eye and looked at her. She was still a string bean, gaining weight back slowly from the twin indulgences of drinking too much and eating too little over the past months, but if Mina was being fair, she’d been a good deal more stable lately. She’d banned herself from liquor and reminded herself to eat and managed to stay away from picking fights with groups of men, ever since Mina read her the riot act a few weeks ago. 

No reason to disincentivize her acting more like a human being interested in her own survival. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she shuffled uncomfortably, “just feeling the consequences of my actions from last night.”

She chuckled, which was a mistake, and she closed bother her eyes again, taking a sip of her beer. 

“You fought really good,” Haruka nodded, “I wish I’d been there sooner.” 

“Unfortunately,” MIna pointed to Haruka with the tip of her beer bottle, “no matter how many times I ask, they refuse to RSVP. We’d be so much better prepared.” 

Haruka pushed back her hair and smiled. “Yeah.” 

They looked at each other for a moment, and then Haruka nodded again. “Hang on just a sec.” 

She hurried away from the couch, and MIna laid her head back on the couch. She was going to have to call in for her shift tonight, see if she could get someone to cover. She hated to miss out on the money, but even if she managed to drag herself into the club tonight, no man was going to want to spend time with a wincing hostess, covered in bruises. It was a lost cause to begin with, and her boss liked her, or at least her popularity with the patrons, so a call-in it would have to be. 

Mina was still thinking on these things when Haruka reappeared with two scruffy pillows from her own bed and a fluffy comforter that must have been tucked away somewhere in Haruka’s small room. Haruka sat delicately on the edge of the couch and swept her arm behind Mina’s shoulder, carefully pulling her forward and placing the pillows behind her. Mina opened her mouth to say something, but found herself quite unable, as Haruka tucked the comforter around her. How long had it been since someone had taken care of her like this? Her parents were busy with their work and the too-many kids they’d had for reasons that utterly escaped Mina, to bother as soon as she could reach the kitchen countertops. People didn’t naturally take care of me. She was not someone who appeared to need any kind of care. 

Maybe Haruka just that way, herself. Mina had seen, over the months they’d been roommates, that she was much softer than she put off. It wasn’t that she was stupid--she’d always known Haruka’s bravado was a front--but she’d taken it as a question of ego less than self-protectiveness, and on this she had found herself to be at least somewhat mistaken. 

“That’s better,” Haruka said, tugging at the sweater she wore, “It’ll make you feel better.” 

The reassurance, Mina thought, was maybe just as much for Haruka as it was for herself, but she appreciated it nonetheless, and the old couch, found on a sidewalk, was more comfortable with addition of a few pillows. 

“I bet I look as grody as I feel,” Mina gave a wry smile, “No one’s paying today.” 

Haruka laughed. “I mean...yeah, you look, kinda not great.” 

“You can’t even lie for me?” 

“I mean, I can try.”  

Mina remembered not to shake her head. “Don’t hurt yourself, bud.” 

Haruka stood up and hurried off again, back quicker this time with Mina’s hairbrush and a ponytail holder. She sat down near Mina’s head and settled herself in. 

“Here,” she puled Mina’s hair back from the pillow, “Let me help” 

“What are you gonna do?” she closed her eyes again, “Not exactly Vidal Sassoon, judging by your haircut.” 

Haruka began to comb her hair, gently pulling at the tangles like Mina was a small child, her hair growing smooth beneath her touch. 

“I’m really good at braiding! I used to wear my hair that way, till I cut it, basically every day. Besides,” she shrugged, “I dunno who Vidal Sassoon is, so doesn’t bother me.” 

Mina looked up at the ceiling, feeling the strokes as they took the roughness and fight out of her hair. “When did you cut it?” 

“I was thirteen,” She laughed softly, “Did it myself with a pair of kitchen scissors.” 

“I bet you looked like a dreamboat.” 

“Yeah, my mom’s boyfriend was sure to tell me how ugly I was, and she didn’t argue.” She touched lightly on the moment, and just as quickly fled from it, “Anyway, I’ve worn it short ever since, but you know, you never really forget how to do this.” 

Mina was about to doubt her when she spread her hair out into three equal sections, looping them over and under with a quick flick of her wrist, a careful balance between too loose nd too restricting that seemed carefully learned. 

“I used to do this for the other girls on the track team, if they let me,” Mina felt her shrug, “Some girls don’t like me touching them. You know, cause...obviously.” 

“Not obviously.” She looked over her forehead to Haruka, a strange swell of protectiveness coming over her. “Fuck those bitches. Seriously. Bold of them to assume you’d want anything to do with them anyway. Bunch of gawky, awkward horsey girls.” 

Another effortless twist. “Then I’m an awkward horsey girl.” 

“You’re awkward emotionally. But at least you’re handsome.” she looked back at the ceiling. “And don’t say you aren’t, I make it my business to know what good-looking is. I don’t want to fuck you, but you’re definitely fuckable, Haruka.” 

“Thanks, I think.” 

She finished at the bottom of Mina’s hair and tied up the end with the holder, quicker than Mina herself had ever managed it. “Keep it out of your way.” 

“You are good at that, I stand corrected.” 

Haruka stood up. “Anyway, I’ll make you some udon noodles are something, and then I can leave you alone. I’ll go...to the arcade or something, no big deal.” 

She turned to walk the short distance to their kitchen, adjusting her sweater. 

“Hey, Haruka,” Mina lifted a hand, ignoring the pain, and grabbed the edge of her pants, “You don’t have to leave. We can hang out. Be nice to have some company.” 

“Yeah?” she smiled, and Mina saw the strange glint of hope in her eyes. 

“Besides,” she let her hand drop, “who else is gonna take care of me? Can’t exactly call Rei over here, even though she’d love to find me prone and helpless.” she affected a high pitched voice, “let’s paint our nails and talk about girls, Ruka.” 

“Ruka,” she looked at the ground and chuckled, “Okay if you want me to stay, I’ll make us both some noodles,” the smile stayed on her face, even though she seemed to by trying to dull it, “we’ll--I mean all I have is like, nail clippers and--” 

“Why don’t you just hang around and be my friend?” 

Haruka beamed. “Yeah. I can do that.” 

There was something clarifying about a good fight. 

[kotikala]

I have just discovered some Finnish dramas on Netflix, and it’s nice that the subtitles reflect more of what’s being said (as opposed to being dubbed), but would you have any idea why not all dialogue is subtitled…?

Ah that's another thing I've noticed with Finnish shows and subtitling/captioning!

The ones that come to mind immediately are Sorjonen (English-language title: Bordertown) and a little web series called Luottomies (Wingman). From what I can catch if I watch either with English subtitles, yeah, whatever is expressed in Finnish tends to be expressed in English subtitles as well.

I haven't watched Sorjonen with Finnish subtitles/captions yet, but Luottomies does have the patterns I've noticed of the subtitles/captions not reflecting what's actually being said. We would watch certain episodes for my class and do activities with them; one of the things I usually did was to find a little section of dialogue and listen to it over and over again so I could record in writing the subtitle/caption, the translation, and then what was actually said. Here's one I did:

Tekstitykset (Subtitles):

Myyjä: Hei! Mitä sais olla? (Seller: Hi! What'll [it] be?) Tommi: Hei. Synttärikakku nimellä Mäkinen-Renwall. (Tommi: Hi. Birthday cake for [name] Mäkinen-Renwall.) Myyjä: Hetkinen. (Seller: Just a moment.)

Puhuttu (Spoken):

Myyjä: Hei. Mitä se teille sais olla? (Seller: Hi. What'll it be for you?) Tommi: Hei! Eeh Mäkinen-Renwall nimellä synttärikakku. (Tommi: Hi! Er, [name] Mäkinen-Renwall has a birthday cake.*) Myyjä: Hetki pien’. (Seller: One moment.)

*The re-arranged word order works in Finnish but not in English, so this is my next-best approximation for English, albeit a tad awkward.

It's not like the dialogue would have made the subtitles/captions too long, there's minimal difference between the two sets.

I honestly don't know why these alterations are made. I don't understand why what's actually spoken wouldn't be rendered in writing verbatim, especially if there is plenty of space and/or timing in the frames and scenes to do so. I can't make sense of it.

I've noticed this too in the film Amélie (which I mentioned in another answer). There's one scene where she's in a cinema watching a film, and she says a couple of things that stand out:

English Subtitle: I like noticing little details that no one else sees. Spoken French: Puis j'aime bien repérer le petit détail que personne ne verra jamais. Closer Translation: And I really like to spot the little detail(s) that no one will ever see.

English Subtitle: But I hate it in old movies when drivers don't watch the road. Spoken French: Par contre j'aime pas dans les vieux films américains quand les conducteurs regardent pas la route. Closer Translation: However, I don't like [it] in old American films when [the] drivers don't watch/look at the road.

Here too I don't understand the discrepancies. The second quote is actually what got me to start paying attention to dialogue vs subtitles years ago. It irked me so much because English and French have a lot in common, and can take up very similar amounts of space and timing in film. Some things don't directly translate between the two, but more things do than I think many people generally realise. The English translations have stood out as misrepresentative and skewed to me since. There was no reason to omit words, intensify the emotions, or create nuance where there needn't be any.

The last one I can think of is the Swedish-Danish series Bron/Broen (The Bridge), and it happens a lot in this that entire lines of dialogue just aren't subtitled/captioned/translated. I can't remember the specific episode I'm thinking of right now, but I still haven't been able to get the missing dialogue. Pretty sure it was Swedish and Danish dialogue too.

I don't know if the dialogue was deemed 'unimportant' for some reason and intentionally left out, if it maybe was included but there was a technology issue that caused it to go missing and it hasn't been fixed, if something else happened that I don't know...I don't know. But it drives me mad whenever I rewatch the series. Characters are clearly reacting to the dialogue at times, but my audio processing and grasp of Swedish and (especially) Danish aren't strong enough to catch it yet.

I think the only kind of explanation I've been able to form is that it may be an autistic/non-autistic thing, or more broadly an ND/'NT' thing. I know that my being ND and particularly autistic influences how I view language and translation, and why I'm a firm supporter of the most verbatim translations possible. I want to know the base information so that I can analyse, interpret, and infer on my own.

Too many of the subtitles/captions/translations I see, though, look like someone else's interpretation of dialogue. Sometimes this can help if there are unspoken things that need to be coded into words a certain way in order to work across languages. Interpreting and translating objectively from a sociocultural framework makes perfect sense. But usually I just end up with more work to do to identify and remove a bias. I have to shift to the source language and sometimes learn enough of that in order to translate on my own, and/or just understand the dialogue in that language and bypass needing a translation entirely.

Maybe many non-autistics and 'NTs' are fine with another's interpretation as their guide. Maybe they don't even think about it or realise, especially if they're adding their own interpretations and inferences onto it, making things more and more indirect. I don't know.

But that's the most I've been able to suspect. Otherwise, subtitles/captions/translations that do not match dialogue seem a bit shoddy to me.