#the thing it does is make me able to take actions in the first place

[afniel]

I have no self control. Like, at all. I told myself to give me at least a week off and I would not hear shit about it.

To be fair the entire contents are currently "Words go here" but still. That's three. Solid start.

Can you blame me though, the Vegas-Indy flight is so boring and I can get so much done during it.

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Leave

Synopsis: As Aemond grew conscious of the court noticing you and his closeness, he makes drastic measures to cease their wagging tongues, even if it meant that things would return to how they first were. Warnings: None (yet), Slight Angst, Cold and Silent Aemond, Infatuation, Jealousy PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART A/N: I'm sorry, don't be mad at me-- i fear this was needed.

“They are quite close, are they not?” Aemond heard the hushed whisper of a court member as he had his arm linked with yours as you picked flowers in the garden. Your knight is holding a basket that houses your kitten, who slept through the afternoon, and the flowers you picked. Aemond had felt the eyes of the court focused on the two of you as of late. He swallowed thickly as you stepped closer to him, placing a flower in the niche of his armor, smiling up fondly upon your knight, which caused the whispers of the observers to grow louder, but it would seem you were oblivious to it. 

“Too close, if you ask me… it does make one wonder,” He heard a lord’s snide comment, making Aemond tense. He looked around and caught the eyes of a group of lords looking upon him quizically as he was arm-in-arm with the princess of the realm. It was not as if he was the one to link your arms; you had done it of your own volition, and who was he to remove his arm around yours? “What’s your favorite flower, Ser Aemond?” You asked, voice dreamy and distant as you were too distracted by the freshly bloomed flowers that came in time just before the end of the summer. “I do not have one, princess.” He replied, trying to ignore the curious gazes of the court. 

“That’s not right! Everyone must have their favorite! Here, smell this,” You say and stand on the tip of your toes as you practically shove a flower upon your sworn protector’s face. Aemond’s eye went to the spectators once more, whispering in each other’s ears and scandal heavy in their eyes. “I…I do not care for it, princess,” He gritted, not actually able to breathe as their gazes were piercing through him. You frowned and removed the flower away from your knight. Your frown furthered as he removed your linked arms and took a step away from you. You bit the insides of your cheeks, fearing you had offended your knight, but you kept silent and let him keep his distance. 

Throughout the afternoon, you noticed Ser Aemond had made additional space between you two— space that had dissolved during the moons of being in your station but had immediately returned in just one afternoon. You tried not to fret about the distance, however unaccustomed and odd it felt. When night came, Ser Aemond walked behind you as you threaded the halls to the dining room. “You should have supper as well, Ser Aemond.” You say before entering the doors. You turned to your knight, expecting to lock eyes with his unique lilac gaze that was lustrous when in the light of the moon, but Ser Aemond could not even look you in the eye. You hid your confusion and disappeared behind the door, silently hoping Ser Aemond would take your advice and actually eat.

“I cannot believe summer is already at an end,” You tried to make conversation as you and Ser Aemond walked to your chambers. You passed a few court members passing you two by as they walked their way back to their own chambers. You smiled and bid them ‘good evening,’ waiting for your knight to reply to your statement, but he stayed silent. “Good night, Ser Aemond,” you smiled sweetly as you reached your door; you had hoped he would at least return that one simple greeting, but all he did was nod and move to stand on his post, still not meeting your eye. When you retired for the night, you could not help but overthink your knight’s aloof action, and you could only hope that all would return to the way it was the following day. It did not. 

“Good morning, Ser Aemond,” You chirped, trying to display a cheery disposition despite your confusion towards your knight’s stoic behavior that you thought you had broken through. He only nodded, and you did not want to acknowledge the pit in your stomach. Had you made a transgression upon him that you were unaware of? Have you offended him? Your mind ran with thoughts and questions that could only answered by your knight, who seemed to ignore you once more.

As Aemond stood behind you as you ate your first meal of the day, he observed the small pout on your lips and the light furrow in your brows. He trailed his gaze around the gardens, observing other highborn ladies with their sworn protectors—a respectable distance between them. The noblewomen never seem to acknowledge the presence of their knights. Speaking to them as if they were mere servants and not even human. Never acknowledging nor thanking them for their service, however meager or great they were—a complete contrast to how you treat him. He then recalled the talk he would engage with his fellow knights, them telling him horrid stories about the ladies they guard— telling Aemond how lucky he was and how jealous they were to be stationed to you. Despite your tendencies to run off, they would prefer to be your guard rather than be stuck with the other snobbish ladies of the court. 

As the day went on, Aemond placed great restraint on himself to keep his distance from you. No matter how second nature it had become for him to walk beside you, he walked a few steps behind. As you walked the empty halls, the silence got the better of you, making you halt in your steps and turn to your knight. “Had I done something wrong?” You asked with a tilt of your head, unable to bear the eerie quiet between you and your knight. Aemond cautiously looked around the halls as you stepped closer to him and him trying his best to slyly back away. “No.” He responded curtly. You frowned, “Then… You usually walk by my side; why are you back there? And—and you had not spoken to me since yesterday. Are you mad at me?” You asked, fearing for his reply. “I am not, princess.” He said, but he could still not even meet your gaze. “You are! You could not even look me in the eye! What have I done?” You countered. Aemond grew conscious as you uncharacteristically raised your voice, possibly catching the attention of any passersby. 

Aemond bit his tongue and took hold of your arm to pull you to the niche of an alcove and away from curious eyes and prying ears. “You had not done anything,” he whispered. “Then why are you acting so distant? If I had done nothing wrong, then why are you ignoring me?” You asked. Aemond breathed in deeply, not knowing how to word out his thoughts. “The court is…” He trailed, and you waited for him to finish his thought, but Aemond second-guessed and held back his tongue. “The court is what?” You urged.

Aemond sighed. “The court is growing curious about our proximity,” He explained, but that only seemed to confuse you further. “Our proximity? But you need to be by my side.” You said you were unable to grasp what Ser Aemond meant. “Not our physical proximity— well, perhaps that too— but what I mean is, they are curious to are… familiarity.” He said, unable to clearly articulate what he meant. Your lips parted in further confusion, “Well, yes, because you are my friend. Is there something the matter with that?” Aemond blinked at your words. “I am your knight.” He clarified. “You are. You are my sworn protector as well as my friend.” You explained further. Aemond breathed in disbelief, “I am not your friend, princess.” He gritted, and you felt a twitch in your chest.  “I am simply your knight. Who is by your side because my duty.” He added. His eye grew colder the moment he uttered the words. You lowered your gaze, feeling embarrassed that you had considered Ser Aemond a friend when he only viewed you as his task. “And it would be best if we keep a sense of professionalism and boundaries, princess. I still have a post to fulfill.” 

You nodded, biting harshly on your tongue as you felt a burning in your nose. Tears started forming in your eyes, but you refused to let them be seen by Ser Aemond. “Very well then, if that is what you wish.” You said, trying not to let your voice waver and forcing it to have the same pitch as when you usually spoke, even forcing a small pleasing smile on your lips to try and convince your knight and even yourself that his words did not struck something in you. You could not believe how quickly things changed. Just as you and your knight began to grow comfortable and accustomed to each other— dare you say, even close, all things returned to the first days of him being in his station. Ser Aemond returned to his armored demeanor of being stoic, silent, and distant. A coldness you did not think you would feel again as you foolishly believed that the warmness built and tended to in your knight would go forevermore. 

When the following day came, you awoke with a few tears sliding from the side of your eyes; unable to account the reason for your crying, you convinced yourself it was because of a dream that came in the dead of night that you could not recall. You lay on your featherbed and heard the silent chatter of two voices; one was from your knight, and the other was from your chambermaid. The two conversing on the other side of your door. You lay still and eavesdropped on their conversation, surprised as you heard a smile on your knight’s voice and a quiet laugh escaping the lips of your chambermaid. 

You took in deep, calming breaths as you felt a burning in your chest. When you hear your door open, you close your eyes and pretend to be asleep, waiting for your chambermaid to open the drapes and wake you. When light flooded your room, you pretended to wake, feigning drowsiness and yawning fictiously. “Good morning, princess,” Celia smiled widely, seemingly elated with her conversation with Ser Aemond. You could only give her a slight smile, the painful throb in your chest hindering you from speaking and making you forget about the manners instilled greatly in your mind. 

As the day went on, you would often catch a glimpse of your chambermaid, Celia, along the halls and the gardens where you frequented. Her usual duties were not anywhere near where you would frequent, yet you would often catch her walking the same halls as where you and Ser Aemond went. A coy smile was on her lips each time she passed you and your knight, and a blush came to her cheeks as Ser Aemond met her gaze. You could not explain why, but you felt ill— as if you would wish to heave each time you caught their small interactions. You felt queasy the entire day, and you even brought yourself to the Maester’s tower to have yourself checked as you tried to convince yourself that the uneasiness you felt was brought forth because of an identified illness and not because of envy. Envy because your knight had rejected your friendship and began to ignore you once more but was effortlessly cordial with others who were not you.

“There is nothing wrong, princess— you are the picture of health.” The Maester smiled as he finished assessing you, your knight standing by the door, trying his best not to let his concern be seen. It was odd of you to willingly come to the Maester to have yourself checked, even when you were taken by a fever a few moons before; you hid your ailment from everyone, and your sickness was only discovered when Aemond accidentally brushed his hand with your forehead and felt the grave fever that you had hidden from them. 

“Are you certain? I feel squeamish and… and as if bile is rising to my throat,” You said, and the Maester hummed as he pondered over your words. “Perhaps it is all of those sweets you have in the afternoon,” He said, and you paled, already feeling regret about bringing yourself to the Maester’s tower to identify a sickness that was not real but rather brought forth by denial. “Best to lay off them for now, princess. Just for a few days, and once you feel better, you could have your favorite custard tarts once more.” The Maester reassured as he saw the devastation on your face. “I can tell the cook that you no longer require your afternoon treats for the next few days; I am on my to the kitchens anyway.” You dejectedly nodded and walked out of the room with your head hung low as you did not think of the consequences of your feigned ailment. 

Ser Aemond watched as you were sullen the entire day, unable to conclude if your somberness was because of his words the day before or because your favorite sweets were kept from you. Either way, he felt guilt consuming his insides, unable to bear to watch the once lively princess be consumed by melancholia.

A few days passed with you and Ser Aemond keeping your distance from one another, and as much as you tried to appear to be unbothered by the sudden change in your demeanors and routine, a constant and pestering feeling still overcame you. Gnawing at you throughout the night and even more so in the morning as Ser Aemond was in your presence. 

“You’re not eating,” Your brother observed, surprised to see your plate barely touched. He was concerned as he recalled that you only had a few spoonfuls during supper the other night. “I’m not particularly hungry,” You smiled and sipped your tea, feeling the fleeting gaze of your knight at the back of your head before quickly turning away. “Are you well? Do you feel ill?” Your brother questioned, finding your behavior odd. “Of course I am, do not fret, brother.” You forced your smile to be bigger, trying to convince your sibling. He gave an unconvinced nod and stayed silent but still eyed you in concern. 

When supper came, you could no longer bear to be in the silent and detached attitude of your knight, especially after you had broken through his armor. You pursed your lips as you were deep in thought as to how to proceed, simply playing with the tepid food on your plate. “Father?” You called, interrupting his and your brother’s conversation, the eyes of your family turning to you. “Could I make a request?” You asked, already widening your eyes and playing with your father’s sympathy. “You could, but my granting it would depend on what it is,” He hummed. “Well, seeing that we are only here for another week, I was thinking if you could remove my gua—“ 

“No.” He and your brother said in unison, and your mother breathed out a silent laugh. “I was not done explaining!” You said, and your brother rolled his eyes, “It is out of the question.” You shook your head and continued on anyway. “It is only for a week— and I swear, I shall only stay in the castle grounds; I will not even venture onto the shore!” Your father shook his head, taking a big bite of his meal. “You have a guard for a reason,” Your brother spoke once more. 

“I know that! And a guard is placed in case of danger— but what danger shall come to this castle? It is impregnable! Not only are guards patrolling each gate and hall, but we also have the navy! Even you yourself had said that the summer palace has a better defense than the one in the capitol!” You and your brother began to argue, your voices growing louder and both of you not caring that the other spoke. “Enough!” Your father suddenly roared, banging his fist upon the wooden table to cease your and your brother’s bickering. 

“You are aware of my tendency to escape,” You say, taking the opportunity of momentary silence. Your brother snorted, “We are,” Your father sighed. “But you do not know the reason for it.” You say, and they were rendered silent, except for your mother. “You do it for attention— you find it amusing when guards are beside themselves searching for you— you are not satisfied until you put your family through panic.” You frowned at your mother’s words, a different pang in your heart as you heard how she truly viewed you. Your brother was quick to notice your deflated shoulders and the urge in you to tear up. “Why?” He asked. 

You licked your lips, “I just wish for a resemblance of independence— where a guard does not trail and follow each movement I make— I am comparable to a prisoner!” You say, and your mother snorts at your words, and you try your best to ignore her. “It’s just that this is the perfect opportunity for me to even have a resemblance of the freedom I crave— and if you grant me this, it will sedate my desire to escape and find independence myself.” You finished explaining, hoping your father would consider your request, for they had kept you caged your entire life. 

You were only curious to know what it was like to be unencumbered by the constant presence of a guard who did nothing but oversee each action you took, ready to report any transgression you make and will make to your father and brother. And in truth, you could not stomach being in the presence of Ser Aemond at the moment because even though he was in your near proximity, his silence and indifference made you feel furthermore lonely than you felt when you were alone. 

There was a palpable silence that enveloped the table for a moment, you looking upon your father and imploring him to bend to your will. He took in a deep breath and a large gulp of his wine. “Very well then, you shall be without a guard— but only for this week.” He said, bringing a true smile to your lips as you were overjoyed that you could not even pay mind to your mother, who rolled her eyes as you were granted what you wanted, as always. “Thank you, Father! And I swear I shall only be by the east wing and gardens!” You reassured, and your brother shook his head in disbelief. “You better be,” Your father sighed, but a small smile twitched on his lips as he saw the joy on your face. 

“Tell your sister’s guard that he is dismissed for the week,” Your father ordered your brother as he stood; your brother sat in disbelief at your father’s decision. “You heard father, go!” You smiled triumphantly as your parents retired for the night, leaving you and your brother seated by the table, facing one another. Your brother grumbled and stood, stomping outside to speak with your knight.

“You are dismissed, Ser Aemond.” Your brother sighed as he spoke with your knight, who waited for you on the other side of the door. A frown quickly overcame Aemond’s face. “What do you mean, my prince? Have I not fulfilled my station?” He questioned, trying not to show the rage that was simmering in him. “What I mean is, you are dismissed for the week— you shall retrun to your station when we are to retrun to the capitol.” Your brother explained further, but that did not aid Aemond's confusion. 

“My sister has requested our father for independence— insisted that she is not in need of a knight for the time being and father had granted her request. You are dismissed for the week. Take it as a rest— I know how demanding it must be to look upon my sister.” Aemond bit his tongue, turning to the ajar door of the dining room, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, who had asked your father to dismiss him. He did not. 

“I still do not understand, my prince,” Ser Aemond repeated, and your brother breathed out a laugh. “Nor do I.” He muttered. “But you are free for the week. You may leave the castle and find other lodging if you please or not; it is up to you. Either way, you are unburdened by duties for the remainder of our stay here, so I advise you to rest and make the most out of your leave.” Your brother added, giving a nod as an indication for Ser Aemond to walk away. Aemond gritted his jaw, turning to the ajar door once more, and only saw a glimpse of your sullen face as you waited for your brother’s return. He nodded at the prince and took his leave, just as you wanted. 

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[actiniumwrites]

patches

synopsis: even though you’re both self-proclaimed enemies, they can’t bear to see you hurt. or in which, you show up at your enemies door all bloodied and bruised and they’re forced to take care of you

characters: xiao, gaming, alhaitham, and arlecchino x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, injuries, crying, enemies to lovers, some of them are kinda mean, extremely mild misunderstandings, probably swearing idk

notes: i’m in a massive enemies to lovers kick right now omg you guys don’t understand. this was also inspired by arlecchino’s voiceline from a heavy hit or something where she says, “wanted my full attention, did you?” she’s so fine i’m sobbing 😖

Xiao:

It was a relatively quiet night before you showed up at Xiao’s room at the Wangshu Inn. For the first time in a while, he had felt a semblance of peace. That was until the indistinguishable scent of blood forced itself in his nose and a weak knock sounded at his door.

Xiao opens it immediately. He doesn’t care to know who it is, but rather what they want with him at nearly three in the morning. No one ever bothers Xiao this late. Not unless it was serious.

“What do you—“ he starts harshly but stops mid sentence when he recognizes your face. You’re doused in blood, your clothes all ripped up. And god, you look so weak it almost makes him feel bad for you. “Get inside,” he grabs your arm harshly, but still manages to avoid all your injuries.

You start to speak, but your mouth is full of blood too. He can barely understand what you’re saying aside from a bunch of nonsensical, I’m sorries. And if your injuries weren’t enough to show it, the fact that you’re apologizing to him at all tells him something is seriously wrong. Most of the time you talk to him it’s a bunch of insults thrown back and forth, some even result in physical fighting. Neither of you have been able to get along for centuries, yet here you are getting patched up in his house.

Xiao remains mostly silent as he sets you on the counter and pulls out his medical supplies. First he cleans up all the excess blood with a cloth before tossing it aside and moving to work on the actual injury itself. You can’t help but watch him, feeling nothing but shame as you do. You couldn’t help it. There was no one else you could think to go to.

“You are unbelievably weak and irresponsible. It’s idiotic to think you could ever handle anything in this world, not even a few monsters,” he grumbles between stitches, “Pathetic.”

You just stare at him as tears well up in your eyes. You aren’t one to cry. In fact, you can’t even remember the last time something so bad happened that you did. But sitting here, terrified of the monsters that had you within an inch of your life combined with Xiao’s cold words made you completely shatter inside and out.

Quietly, you sob into your other half-cleaned arm, “I know. You don’t have to say it.” You begin to get up right after, mumbling about it being a mistake coming here but he pushes your knee back down before you can fully stand up.

Xiao looks up surprised from where he sits as he does, his hands drop the thread and needle against the counter. Without word, he stands up and furrows his brows. “I should not have said what I said,” he practically whispers, a twinge of embarrassment hitting him too. A darker look shades his gentle amber irises as he stares into yours, “I don’t entirely dislike you. As stupid as your actions may have been, seeing you injured makes me…upset.”

“They weren’t normal monsters,” you breathe out between the remaining sobs that still involuntarily leave your mouth. You know you don’t owe him an explanation, but you figured you could at least make it known you weren’t taken out by some random hilichurls. “I was down in the Chasm. Those…things weren’t anything like I’ve ever seen before. I didn’t even have time to react.”

Xiao nods and places the last bandage on your face, “You shouldn’t go down there by yourself. It’s too dangerous. The last time I was there I hardly escaped.”

“What do you mean?” you raise a brow, your interest suddenly peaked. Xiao wipes the remaining tears off of your face in silence before turning to walk away.

“Call for me next time and I’ll be there.”

Gaming:

Gaming and you had gotten off on the wrong foot when you first met each other years ago. As children, you always felt like he stole your spotlight and he never seemed to care. And as you got older, it never seemed to go away. You constantly bickered and loathed having to see each other whenever one another’s name was brought up.

Yet whenever you got hurt, he was always the first person you went to. Although normally, it was for small things like paper cuts and bruised elbows. Not for your face having a cut so deep you could barely see and an arm twisted out of place like today.

“Fuck,” you mutter as you bang on his door, hoping it was the right one. There was too much blood in your eyes. Every door in the village looks the same right now, and even if it is the right one, you aren’t sure he’s even home. “Please be home,” you pace back and forth. Gaming stopped asking questions years ago when it first started.

You were forced to go with him after a group of bandits had found and beat you up, taking nearly everything you had in your bag. Gaming had found you while on delivery, and like the sweet guy he is, he stopped and helped you even though you could both barely stand each other. He didn’t want to see you dead either.

You weren’t often hurt, but it became somewhat of a cycle whenever you were. You were a nice person, well liked by most, but you also enjoyed stirring up trouble and it often landed you in some pretty hot water countless times. You knew Gaming wouldn’t say anything to anyone or turn you away like other people would. And above all, you like the kinder side of him whenever he patched you up, which he was good at too.

“Gaming!” your fist pounds on the door again. It’s almost nightfall and a few villagers have begun staring. You almost go to knock again, but your body begins to give out. You mumble a few more curse words before the door opens and you fall forward, directly onto the very person you were looking for.

“Ow ow ow, oh my god my arm!”

“Sorry! Is that blood?! What happened to you?”

“I don’t know! Ask the guys who thought my joke wasn’t funny.”

Gaming picks you up off the floor in a state of panic and rushes you to the bathroom. Luckily for you both, his dad isn’t home to see all of this.

Gaming begins to wipe the blood off your face and examine the cut that runs all the way from your forehead to your cheek, narrowly missing your eye. “This is bad,” he says and begins rummaging through his drawers for medical supplies.

You scoff, “Yeah, you think?”

“You didn’t have to come here, you know. You should’ve gone to a doctor,” he bites back nicely. Sometimes you wish he would just be a little meaner to you. It was easier to hate him that way.

You quiet down and let him take care of your face, “I’m sorry. You’re the only one who I can actually trust to take care of me.”

Gaming hides a small smile while avoiding eye contact with you. Not that you could even see, but just in case. He’d never admit it, but he actually really enjoys when you go to him for help. He’s never resented you like you’ve resented him, but he never bothered to change it either. Somehow he hoped bandaging you up would make you change your mind about him.

“It’s alright,” he says softly, pouring disinfectant onto a small cloth and wiping the cut gently. You wince and he places a hand on your upper arm to silently comfort you, “If you want some good news, you don’t need stitches on your face.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, having always hated needles, “Thank god.”

“But you will have to see a doctor for your arm. There’s no way for me to fix that on my own,” he says bashfully, “I can maybe…take you if you’d like?”

You peer up at him, shocked at the question. Perhaps this could be a new start between the two of you, and you’re not so against it.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Alhaitham:

It’s pouring outside when Alhaitham hears banging on his front door. At first, he ignores it thinking it was just Kaveh forgetting his keys again and he doesn’t care enough to let him in. But the banging persists and then comes the faint sound of pained sobs.

He slams his book shut and groans as he gets up and trudges angrily to the door. He swings it open only to be met with the sight of you clutching your waist, barely keeping yourself standing as the rain envelopes you.

“Please,” you whisper weakly.

Alhaitham scoffs, “Really? I’m not a doctor, go somewhere else.” He begins to shut the door, and he almost does so successfully before you collapse on the floor, blood beginning to mix with the puddle outside his door. And there’s a lot of it.

The next thing you know, you’re in your least favorite scholar’s arms as he carries you to his room. He sets you on a chair and you take the time to take in what his room looks like. It isn’t much different than you expected, yet you never thought you’d see it.

“Don’t move. I don’t want you making any more of a mess than you already have,” he sneers, walking off to the bathroom connected to his room to grab out a small bag of medical supplies. When he returns you’re blankly staring ahead of you, barely conscious as tears start running down your face. It’s like you don’t even know you’re crying. Alhaitham stares at you for a moment in utter disbelief before snapping in your face, “Take your shirt off.”

“Huh?” you snap out of your daze, confusedly wiping your tears as you do so. A few sniffles leave your nose as you do so.

“Do you want help or not?” he snaps again, losing his patience with you. He’s beginning to seriously regret not leaving you on his doorstep. You quickly follow his instructions, taking off your shirt to reveal a huge cut stemming from one side of your stomach to the other.

Alhaitham’s eyes slightly widen in shock, and he almost can’t pull them away. For a brief moment, you even catch them soften but it’s fleeting and doesn’t give you enough time to register that maybe the stoic scribe really does care for you, even just a little bit.

You both sit in complete silence as he begins working. You catch his eyes every so often, but he quickly looks back down at the injury before either of you can speak on it.

“Who was it?” Alhaitham grumbles as he finishes wrapping it up, his arms wrapped around your waist. The feeling of his hands distracts you from the question.

“What?”

“The people that did this. Who was it?” he repeats it, more anger this time around. You shake your head and look off to the side.

“I don’t know. It was too dark to get a good look at them,” you try to explain, but Alhaitham doesn’t have any of it. You’re not sure why, but he doesn’t seem like the normal him. The guy that normally finds any and every chance to torment you.

He gets up and grabs the bag, noting something down on a nearby piece of paper and shoving it in the left pocket of his pants before angrily walking out the door of his bedroom, “I’ll be back.”

“Wait! Don’t go,” Your hand reaches out and grabs his. You pull back suddenly, not realizing how impulsive your decision was until it was too late. You go to mumble a sorry, but before you can, you find your hand back in his.

You stare at him in shock, but he just squeezes your shaking hand. “Stay here,” he says somehow both coldly and warmly at once, pulling the blankets back and gesturing to his bed, “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Where are you going?”

“To deal with the people that hurt you.”

Arlecchino:

You wince as the door swings open aggressively, not expecting Arlecchino to open the door before you could even think to knock.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, squinting her eyes so as to scale you up and down. For a moment, they linger over your bloodstained clothes and the already bruising cuts that litter your body. You don’t notice the way they widen in shock for a moment, too distracted by the adrenaline wearing off.

You still manage to crack an arrogant smile and sarcastically mutter, “Couldn’t think of anyone worth patching me up but you.”

Without waiting for a response, you push past her figure and let yourself inside already knowing where the infirmary is. Although, you don’t make it two steps before your legs give out and your body tumbles toward the hardwood floors.

The clicking of heels stops from just beside you before a strong hand grips your arm and aggressively pulls you up, “Don’t dirty my floors. The children worked hard to clean those today.”

“Yeah? Well they can clean them again tomorrow,” you grumble and weakly attempt to push her hand off of your body. Arlecchino doesn’t budge, however. She instead drags you all the way to the infirmary and sets you down on one of the beds.

“Wow these are surprisingly comfortable. Didn’t know you had it in you to be so accommodating to all the children you like to hold hostage,” you tease to keep yourself from focusing on the pain. She ignores you and instead places a firm hand on your uninjured chest and slams your back against the bed.

Immediately, she begins working on all the little cuts and gently wipes all the blood away, saving your bigger injuries to be dealt with in a moment. For now, she didn’t mind if you suffered for a little longer.

“So,” Arlecchino starts after a few minutes of silence, finally deeming it worthy to have a real conversation with you, “was this your way of getting my full attention? If you wanted me to notice you, you should have just said something.”

“What? No! I got attacked, I wasn’t trying to ‘get your attention’ or whatever.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“I really wasn’t,” you cross your arms and turn your head away from her, “I was scared, you know? I didn’t know who else to go to. Make fun of me all you want, but it’s the truth.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t say anything more after the conversation takes its turn. You’re glad she doesn’t, not wanting to engage in the horrible embarrassment you already felt from having to show up here anyway. She was the last person you’d want to have see your weakness, yet here you are covered in the House of the Hearth’s bandages.

When Arlecchino is done with stitching up your leg, she moves to your face and gently brushes away the blood. And cut by cut, she heals each one and leaves you feeling brand new again. You stare up at her for a brief moment, unable to look anywhere else when the red X’s in her eyes are so focused on you.

“So who did it?” She asks suddenly, her tone a little more caring than before. It almost shocks you, but then again, deep down you knew she cared more than she let on. No matter how much either of you didn’t get along, you always had her back. Even if she didn’t know it. You always liked the think that she had yours too.

You sigh and scribble down a few names on a nearby clipboard left by the bed, “That’s only a few of them…the ones I was able to get talking before everything happened. I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding their leader though.”

Her eyes scan over the paper before she glances back at you and nods. She begins to walk away but stops at the doorway and calls out over her shoulder, “I’ll be back in the morning. My room is on the second floor, last door at the end of the hall. I expect to find you resting there when I return.”

[zhongrin]

a hybrid’s instincts

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, gorou, tighnari, (bonus) platonic!diona

◇ tags ◇ pregnancy, afab!reader, dragon!zhongli

◇ a/n ◇ what's that? will i ever stop pushing the dragon!zhongli agenda? hahahahahahahhahahhaha hhahaha ha ha- no.

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

oh? what's this? it seems like your pregnancy triggered something in these men. their more… "animal side", perhaps?

ever since baizhu’s confirmation - actually, even weeks before that - zhongli has been very reluctant to let you wander out of the house. or even out of his sight, in general (which is quite strange since with his enhanced dragon senses you know he’s able to locate you within the house with no problems at all).

at night, you sometimes wake up to him in his dragon form. sometimes it’s his compact form nuzzling and he's purring near your stomach, sometimes it’s his half-dragon form where he’ll place his head beside your stomach with his tail curling around you protectively. it doesn’t matter whether you’re already showing or not; your heartbeat and the little hatchling’s brings him a sense of comfort that he needs, lest he becomes restless.

his nesting behavior is out of control. he’ll bring you all the pillows and blankets, surround you with the nicest smelling flowers, make you always wear his shirt, and he’ll bring anything you want to the bed so you don’t have to leave the nest. the further you are into your pregnancy, the more reluctant he is to leave you alone. he ends up taking that paternal leave hu tao has been telling him to get. bless her.

gorou is just as excited as he’s alerted. kokomi will have to force her best general to take a temporary leave from the army throughout your pregnancy because he’s so jumpy and sensitive to literally everything and his behavior is making all of the soldiers anxious.

gorou insists that you take a walk with him every day; just something light around the block to keep you from feeling lethargic. he’s also developed a habit to sniff everything that will touch your hand. yes, that includes your supposedly harmless change of clothes. it’s not ridiculous in his opinion! it’s a necessary precaution!!

will snarl when a stranger approaches you and tries to touch you in any way, even if it’s just a friendly gesture. he would be so embarrassed and apologetic about it afterward, but only once you’re at the safe haven of your house.

are you a forest ranger? an adventurer? does your profession require you to venture into the wilderness? welp, say goodbye to your job for the time being, because there is no way in any cycles of samsara tighnari would let you go into the dangers outside while you’re carrying his pups.

walking arm-in-arm whenever you're out and about is a must these days. whenever a villager congratulates you, you can sense his hold tightening despite the polite smile on his lips. if it was up to his instinct, he wouldn’t have let you get out of the house, but rationally he knows you need to move around and breathe in the fresh air.

though you still won’t be exempt from your beloved’s sassiness (”you want me to get you coffee…? do you think i’m an idiot?”) as long as what you ask for doesn’t harm you, he’s at your every beck and calls now, no question asked. you’re craving for collei’s specialized pita pockets? he’ll learn the damn recipe from collei herself and serve it on your favorite plate the next day. you want to be carried everywhere? good thing he’s got the physique fitting for the head of the forest rangers. you want ten kisses a day? say no more; he’ll give you thirty.

[bonus - platonic]

at first, diona seems super indifferent about it, only reacting with a ‘hmph… congrats, i guess’, but her actions speak louder than words. you know how cats tend to hover around pregnant women and even lay themselves near their bulging bellies? that's right.

no, you will not be having alcohol. no, your spouse will not be having alcohol. no, all the people within five hundred meters radius from you will not be having any single drop of alcohol. she won't allow those boozehounds to get close to you.

she’s so amazed at how your stomach keeps growing bigger every time you visit her. when you give her your permission, she’ll curiously poke and stare at your bump. her hand will gently pat your tummy as she unconsciously smiles. she starts to seek you out more often after that, telling you that she’s just there in case you need help, but you know she’s just worried about you. she would be such a good big sister to your baby!

© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

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[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

aaron hotchner x jacks nanny/babysitter

she’s got a crazy ex that stalked and threatened her so she moved far away to live a simple, under the radar life and started working for hotch. he knows her situation and does his best to look out for her, maybe she’s like a live in nanny ? neither of them is bold enough to make a move first until her ex finds her and hotch and the team race to save her. ends with love confessions and all the sappy stuff

could be a one shot or a short lil series i’m sure whatever you write will be amazing !

༉‧₊˚. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨-𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 || 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

— pairing: aaron hotchner x plus size babysitter!reader

— summary: your new life as a live-in nanny was wonderful, and with your dark past behind you, there was nothing that could ruin this. but as they say, what goes around comes around.

— warnings: heavily detailed violence BEWARE, surprisingly light angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, physical hurt/comfort, mutual pining, abusive ex's :[, guns, and a horribly written action/fight scene (forgive me).

— wc: 1965

⋆ a/n: okay this is a heavy fic so beware once more, but aside from that this takes a fully turn! i don't really have anything else to say besides enjoy!

masterlist | AO3

“Backpack? Check. Lunchbox? Check. Shoes are tied? Check.” 

You placed your hands on your hips triumphantly, a proud smile on your face as you examined the little boy. 

Being a live-in nanny came with being organizational and making sure that Jack was ready for school everyday without fail. It wasn’t like Aaron was super strict on you; he understands when you have your days where things are a bit out of place, but honestly it was a personal preference, and totally not because you have a big fat crush on the FBI agent.

You had been very skeptical about your babysitting position at first because of your ex who was absolutely bat shit crazy. It was a situation you had barely escaped from, and it had taken almost everything in you to get where you were now, so you were a little afraid of men in general. But Aaron was kind, and welcoming, and fatherly, someone that you felt safe with.

And then, you fell in love.

It had scared the shit out of you of course, but now it was a feeling that you welcomed with open arms, even if you couldn’t act on it. 

Your phone began to ring as you searched for the car keys, the contact name read ‘Aaron <3’.

“Morning!” You greeted with a smile as you picked up. “Good morning. How are you guys?” The older man asked. “We're doing just fine, as always,” You successfully found the keys. “How are things?” You knew better than to ask how he was, because if you had the kind of job that he did, there was no way you could answer positively. 

“We pretty much have everything we need, so we’ll probably be able to wrap this case up early.” 

“Oh Aaron, that's great!” You cheer happily and make your way back to where Jack was waiting for you. “You ready to go, little man?” Jack looks up at you from his toys. “Is that daddy on the phone?”

“Yeah buddy, you wanna say hi?” 

“Yes!” Jack’s answer was full of excitement, and you can’t help but smile. “As much as I enjoy talking to you, it looks like I’m handing you over.” You swear you could hear Aaron chuckle.

Yeah, this was a life that you could get used to.

Having the house to yourself was weird.

With Jack away at his aunt’s for the weekend, it was strangely quiet due to the emptiness of the child’s presence. You suppose you’re grateful for the break even though taking care of Jack really isn’t as tiring as one might think. 

Despite Aaron rarely being home, he’s managed to raise the boy well when he could, and it’s honestly very admirable. It’s one of the many things that made you fall in love with him. You gaze down into the wine glass at the thought, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Ugh, why does love make you such a loser?

Your bashful train of thought was stopped by a suspicious thump coming from the back of the house. Your smile dropped and a feeling of anxiety and worry twisted in your gut as you grabbed your phone that was lying on the kitchen counter.

You’re quick to dial Aaron’s number and your fingernail finds itself in your mouth as you chew on it anxiously. It’s an old habit, one that you had picked up back in your old relationship.

“Hello?” Rasped Aaron. 

You knew he had just recently flown in from wherever he was because you could hear the foot traffic of everyone grabbing their luggage from the plane’s storage.

“Hey,” Your greeting was nervous and it was something that Aaron easily picked up on. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” He asks with a furrowed brow. “Yeah, just um - I’m just hearing some weird things so I just wanted to know when you think you might be getting home.” I miss you.

“Honey what type of weird things?” Before you were able to answer, there was a loud crashing sound. You instantly dropped to the floor to hide behind the counter; you cradled the phone to your ear, “Okay uh - change of claim,” You attempted to joke. “Someone is most definitely in the house.”

Aaron tries not to panic at the way his insides turn cold, “You remember what to do, right?” He asks with a hardened voice. You gulp, stretching slightly to peer over the marble. You stare out into the darkness and a frightened shiver shoots up your spine. 

“Get to your room and enter the safe.” You reiterated what he had told you almost a year ago when you had first moved in. You’ve never shot a gun before but tonight might be the night where you learn how too.

“That’s right, and do you remember the code?” 

As you went to answer him, you were snatched up by your hair and a scream rang out and into the phone. Even though you weren’t on speaker the others that were currently standing outside with Aaron could hear it.

Aaron desperately calls out your name, and with your silence he takes off without any explanation, but his team knows to follow close behind.

“So, this is what you’ve been doing since you tried to leave me?!”

You cried out as another blow was delivered to your gut but a heavy boot. Your lungs burned and there were tears streaming down your face. He had pulled you so hard over the counter that it made your scalp burn, a blistering headache beginning to form at the base of your skull.

“Fuck you!” You spat as you attempted to prop yourself up on your elbows. 

There was a fine line between anger and fear, and this was one of those moments where they blend together. If you ended up dying tonight, at least you didn’t go down in vain.

This time he punched you in the face before snatching you up by your arms. There was a metallic taste in your mouth, a bruise already developing near your eye. “Why’d you leave me, huh?! We had a good thing going and you just… you just ruined it!”

“I didn’t ruin shit asshole!” You screamed and pushed at him but it was no use. “We were gonna get married but you… but you wanted to play house with an old man, really?!”

“You’ve been watching me.” You said in disbelief. It made your stomach twist in nausea and horror at the thought of him watching Jack, what he could’ve done to him. You had actively put the man you loved kid in danger and it devastated you.

“I had no choice!”

“You’re fucking crazy!”

“Put your hands where I can see them.” Aaron’s voice rang out throughout the house.

Before you knew it you were spun around with a gun to your head, his arm locked against your neck, faintly strangling you.

“Aaron!” You called out in relief, but it turned into a grunt as you tugged further into your ex’s chest.

Aaron’s gun was raised steadily, his eyes focused on your attacker, but he doesn’t hesitate to cast you a reassuring look. When he sees your bloody and bruised face his jaw tightens, the vein in his neck popping and visible through his skin.

“Boyfriend to the rescue, huh?” Your ex sneers into your cheek. You shudder. 

“Put the gun down.” Aaron continues to coax, and out the corner of your eye you can see Morgan approaching through the darkness. 

“Why do you want to save this slut? Don’t tell me you’ve already -” A shot rings out into the fair followed by a scream of pain.

Your ex collapses to the ground, cradling the gunshot wound in his knee as blood spills through his fingers. Aaron was the one that pulled the trigger and Morgan is already in the kitchen by the time he’s tugging you away and into his arms.

“Oh God.” You finally cried. “You came, you came…” His arms are wound tightly around you, purposefully tucking your face into his chest. “I’m here, I’m here.” He shushes and rocks you side to side in order to try and lull you.

Aaron – softly – orders you to sit down while he cleans up the blood when the rest of the team has already left.

You can’t help but watch him from where you’re sitting on the couch with his sleeves of his white button up rolled up and his hands gloved. “I’m sorry.” You decide to say, because you really were. “I’m sorry for everything.” There was so much more you wanted to say, but you felt your throat tighten with unshed tears.

“No, don’t apologize.” He says softly, abandoning the rag that he was using to scrub up said blood. “No Aaron you don’t understand. I put you and Jack in danger because of my bullshit and I thought that I had put it all behind me and I don’t -” 

“Stop.” It’s a bit firmer this time. “I knew exactly what I was getting myself into when I offered you to live with me and my son. Nothing that has occurred tonight has swayed my trust or opinion about you, you know that, right?”

“Right.” His hand holds your cheek and strokes the soft skin of it. “Good.”

Your eyes flicker down to his lips before peering back into his eyes, “If I asked you to kiss me, would you?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I promise this isn’t like a trauma bond thing. I’ve liked you for as long as I’ve worked for you and I didn’t want to tell you because I have nowhere else to go if you say no. Plus,” You sigh, “I just don’t want to make things difficult or uncomfortable for you.”

“You could never do that, feelings reciprocated or not.” He reassures.

“Well are they?”

He grins at your question, “I’d be an idiot not to feel the same way.” You laugh and he leans forward to join your lips together.

A warm feeling spreads in your gut and you knew that this is what love was supposed to feel like.

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[lady-buggerinton]

My Top Five Polin Scenes in Part One (and why!)

My darling gossipers, so far this show is making literally all of my hopeless romantic dreams for this couple come true and who knows what kind of angst and drama were in for in part two, so before things gets too real I just wanted to go into (too much) depth on my favorite scenes and a few swoon-worthy details from part one! *whips reigns on carriage* shall we?

5. Drawing Room Lesson/Journal

Pen's brain: TOUCH ALERT! HIS HAND IS ON MY BACK.

This scene is so best friend coded with the way they are bantering and flirting the whole time. There's an adorable contrast between Penelope's fear of being discovered and Colin being like it's chill!(when in fact it is not Chill because they get interrupted after 5 minutes of gazing into each others eyes)

He just clearly wanted to be completely alone and behind closed doors platonically with his very beautiful friend (who looks like an angel in this scene) to pretend they are courting. Nothing suspicious about that!

I love how he's so into the lesson to the point that he has set out the lemonade as a prop and brought her to Bridgerton house in the first place specifically because she said it was where she was most comfortable (previously, but he's doing his best, and probably hoping she will become comfortable again, ouch)

Colin being the "dashing suitor" for her to flirt with (loser) and when she's resistant to fake flirting with him he hits her with the, "you don't have to be embarrassed, you know me!" trying to put her at ease. And he succeeds! Penelope is so comfortable during this scene when she's opening up about how it's hard for her to get her personality across, it's so sweet and honest.

And this is when the ROMANCING really starts, I love how it's Penelope who takes the lead here. mostly by accident, but the poor man is still left in shambles.

I do kind of wish for this scene they had gone with a more back and forth flirting moment, and seen them both get a little taste of how overtly flirting with each other would feel rather than her little poetic moment, but it was sweet to see her expose a corner of her feelings for him and watching him get a tad flustered at the compliment.

Ok, while it was rather uncool of her to read his journal, I love this part so much. Because I am no better, I would 100 percent do this given the chance. Her examining the space where he spends time, her running her hand over his pirate coat, (who wouldn't) the quiet yearning of that action. As a snoop myself, this was wish fulfillment.

Penelope being hit with a confusing mix of jealousy and intrigue by the contents of the journal entry, the way she stops reading for just a second and then gives in and devours his writing, not being able to hold back from getting inside his head. Don't think about how she probably missed his letters.

Colin's anger here is warranted, and I liked how he didn't come across as aggro-angry Colin from the books but is still justifiably upset that his privacy has been violated. He is likely aware that there are certain DETAILS he wouldn't want her to be reading, like how he's a lonely lonely sad little man trying to be rakish and roguish because his beautiful platonic friend isn't writing him back and encouraging him like she usually does.

Can I just mention that bandaging a wound is an excellent trope and it's such a good romancing vehicle: the care, the tenderness, the touching! the GRUMPINESS! But my favorite thing about the wound bandaging is his reaction to her complimenting his work, of which he hasn't shown ANYONE. He's just so shocked that she likes it, and clearly starved for her encouragement/anyone to be interested in his travels.

I think its also worth noting that this is THE moment that Colin thinks back to when he's considering activating his chaos tendencies by rolling up to the red ball to interrupt her proposal, so I'm gonna interpret that as him recalling his first realization/admittance to himself that he has feelings for her beyond friendship.

It wouldn't surprise me since it is after this moment that we see the hints of jealousy start to manifest at the full moon ball (looking for her, asking her if she likes a suitor, he's not subtle with it). Can't blame him, he was just touched with intimacy and care, and told his creative outlet is well-written, he is being ROMANCED to the max and he can't handle it.

We also have our first "please" as Pen asks to help, and as we will see, these two can't say no to each other once the magic word is spoken! I hope this theme makes a comeback in part two (please please please)

4. Market Scene

ok, besides a semi-silly looking wig on Colin (reshoots) this scene is first of all, so beautiful.

SHE IS SO FINE IN THIS SCENE I CAN'T EVEN THINK. She looks like a preraphaelite painting and I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

I literally kept saying "wow" out loud. It actually makes the scene very silly to me because she keeps talking about how she'll never snag a husband and I'm over here on one knee begging for a chance.

If Penelope has been Colin's cheerleader and #1 supporter for their whole friendship, this is where that flips. This scene is all about Pen feeling dejected about her prospects and Colin trying to lift her spirits -basically by saying she doesn't need to work on anything because he already likes her so much without her doing anything but I digress!

There is nothing hotter than your crush talking about a shared memory! Literally nothing! You can see her absolutely light up here when he talks about their first meeting like "I can't believe he remembered" and "Shit, I'm trying to not be in love" and it makes me ache for her.

I am very sad we didn't get a meet cute flashback (hello romcom!!) but this was the next best thing. He's also definitely still in Rake Mode with the way he is being charming and flirty, but there is a core of genuine feeling here as he is trying to get her find her confidence and be more like the non-self conscious children they once were. I believe a lot of the rift between them was directly because she had such strong feelings for him and couldn't just connect with him as friends due to the pedestal she put him on, this scene shows that without that as a barrier, they are able to connect much more naturally.

"Living for the estimation of others is a trap, once you break free the world opens up," he says, and he's starting to realize this idea but hasn't quite put it into practice. I think seeing Penelope struggling to be something she's not, just like he is, shows him how it's not working for either of them. This I think kickstarts his self-reflection and eventual rejection of external pressures later on, leaving him open to pursue other passions.

Ok but what I LOVE most in this scene is his subtle digging for information about her that she isn't forthcoming with. He asks her why she wants a husband and where she feels most comfortable, peppering her with questions and also giving her zero personal space. He's very curious about her and what is going on inside, but she's not exactly open with him at this point, giving short and simple answers.

She's genuinely not used to someone asking her this many questions about herself, receiving this kind of devoted attention, and she clearly doesn't know quite how to respond. In fact, the dynamic has always been reversed, where she was encouraging and inquiring about him, so this switch is just excellent. there have been little moments throughout the series where he asks about her and she always seems to deflect to talking more about him, so it's nice to see this shift.

Also fun detail, the grecian statues behind them are a little nod to the eros and psyche vibes of the scene as cupid is trying to find a match for his psyche, but is slowly beginning to fall for her, his curiosity the first step towards total downfall.

When he asks about Eloise is where Pen just completely shuts down and says she has to leave, and the "before we are noticed" with the little smile? I have fallen in love. She's clearly using that as an excuse to dodge the question, and it is almost an inside joke, sadly. As if she's saying "No one would believe you are courting me anyway haha". And yet he's clearly bummed she's leaving, he was having such a good time, and she leaves him hanging, wanting to know more. I also absolutely love the Rae side eye, lethal!

3. Candy Tent

Post-kiss insanity is on full display here. The way she beckons him with a sexy head tilt and he came running, the way his hands give away his nervousness and his eyes keep locking on her helplessly. Just FULL ON crush mode. The soft "How are you?" he missed her!

Also outfits are incredible here, the pearls in the hair, the painted vest, Colin inventing the color brown, it's a rococo dream. The plushy pink of the tent, the ambiance, everything is just in a word: sumptuous? never used that but it feels right here.

Pen's giddiness here is just adorable, she's experiencing blatant interest for the first time and I couldn't be happier for her. But someone else is very peeved, indeed. He's trying to play the part of supportive friend while also just kind of feeling a lot of "confounding feelings"

The way he is trying to be so casual and attempting to keep up his swagger, but his true feelings are showing through BAD kind of harkens back to how Pen would interact with Colin in s1 and 2, with barely contained affection and hope. The script has been FLIPPED and it feels so good!!

I literally squeal every time he asks her if she's formed an attachment to Debling, this is the shit I signed up for!! Her saying Debling is not "unpleasant to gaze upon" and watching Colin just completely glitch out with jealousy. He's like AND WHAT ABOUT ME! Must be frustrating to be the most eligible bachelor of the season, and yet your very beautiful crush friend is complementing another man on his looks. When your crush expresses interest in someone it can be truly insanity inducing, so I feel for him here.

Pen is oblivious completely, she doesn't think any of what she is saying is negatively affecting him, in fact she thinks this news will make him happy! His lessons worked, she didn't care about being perceived and it is having the desired affect! and yet, he's miserable. Mission accomplished unsuccessfully if you will.

He does ALMOST a good job of hiding his feelings, but if Pen were not completely convinced he couldn't have feelings for her, I think she would've picked up on the vibes here. He's way less enthusiastic about the lessons, and is giving fairly curt responses, when before he was yapping on about being yourself and such.

Then of course the blatant staring at her mouth, being the yearning sort of man he is and likely recalling their kiss in detail, reminder it's been at least a week since. She's romancing him without even trying. It also makes sense for "food motivated" Colin to have Penelope + cake equals critical override of his facial expressions and his literally standing there slack-jawed with lust.

His soft "good luck", when she leaves and the fact that he doesn't mean it AT ALL.

I've seen it talked about, but it makes a lot of sense that Penelope wasn't as affected by the kiss as he was. I'm sure she enjoyed it, but for her the kiss was an end (more on that later) and for him it was the moment he admitted his feelings (which were already growing slowly). so it makes sense the yearning is very colin-sided in this scene.

Apart from the yearning, it's also just sweet to see them in cahoots and discussing this development with Debling like its a little group project, and its the perfect scene to show Down Bad Colin, and I love it. She also clearly wants him to share with her in her success, still wanting to be close to him in any way she can, which if I think about too much I'll cry.

Bonus points for him eating the cake later on, such an intimate detail, he just wants to be close to her in any way he can. CRIMINAL! ARREST HIM!

2. First kiss/Dream Sequence

Ok I'm combining these scenes because they happen back to back and sort of like a mirror of each other, sue me. This first kiss scene is, as Whistledown says, RECKLESS. It's nonsensical, it's desperate, and it's beautiful.

This scene has only improved upon rewatches, it really has everything. Best kiss scene on Bridgerton and possibly in anything ever? no doubt no doubt?

The silly back and forth on the "You're not going to die" and the way she doesn't back down when he seems to get embarrassed, but instead says what? The Magic Word! "Please" she says, which of course is both of their activation word. His expressions here definitely mirror the book, where as soon as she asks him to kiss her, he's a bit taken aback by how much he realizes he wants to already.

This is such a low moment for Penelope, and it's one parts embarrassing and two parts brave of her to ask him to kiss her. In her position, she doesn't even have her pride left, so why not ask the boy you love to kiss you? nothing will come of it anyway, and he probably won't even do it, so why not ask? And what are friends for!

then the moment comes, and the music swells, as does the tension as he closes the distance between them, her shocked face and shallow breaths as she realizes its actually going to happen, the way he lifts her face to his with his hand under her chin. It's just pure romance. and this thing between them, this space that has never been crossed, is being crossed, and it feels insane. reckless. intimate!!

What I love is the shot that focuses on his face after they deepen the kiss, he's intent and confused by how good this feels, how little like kindness this is for him as soon as their lips touch. Like we will see later, he just kind of mind-blanks and forgets what is happening.

Whatever he thought they were has just crumbled with this kiss, and he leans his forehead against hers, no awkwardness when there is such tenderness. which is why he's so shook when she whispers "thank you", and rushes off. he's like "wait why is she thanking me? where am I? weren't we doing something here?" The hopeful strings as it focuses on his dumbstruck face, the earth literally shifting under his feet in that moment. UNREAL.

THE DREAM: I won't say a lot about the dream sequence but I just had to throw it in here because it shows how aligned they are romantically. They are both HUGE romantics, and he has orchestrated this sort of do-over kiss where he's really going for it and proving to her that he wants this too, he wants her. And she's enjoying herself, clearly, which we know is something Colin wants more than anything. It's a great way to show his inner feelings with the lack of an inner monologue that a book brings. And this is clearly a sort of parody of Bridgerton itself, or at least the books. It's over the top, a little silly, and exactly what we all want to see.

This dream also isn't just ripping off clothes, it's emotional, a key element is him expressing how he's been thinking about her, consumed by her. This kiss also isn't as innocent and patient as the first kiss, and it's full of Reciprocation, she can't stop thinking about him either. AND NEITHER CAN I!!!

Both of these kiss scenes also set up our contrasting feelings, where Pen views their first kiss as an end of a dream, a bittersweet act to finally let go off him, the dream of him. And then his dream shows the opposite, how she's ignited something in him that begins his dream of her, awake and asleep. Dream-swap! Also the hand on the wall behind her to catch her from hitting the wall. no comment.

1. Carriage Scene

Yeah like what can I say! It's incredible! I honestly have no idea how they can top this scene, but honestly if this is the best love scene they share in the season I am 10000% content. All of my little qualms with how they did the season melt away when I watch this scene because this was what was crucial to nail and they NAILED IT. TO THE WALL BABY. YAY.

And how did he gain access to the carriage (and Penelope)?? by saying please!! we love the magic word!! I do like the confession a lot, especially the "what if I did have feelings for you?" and the way he gets to his KNEES, a truly inspired moment.

How he completely dies inside when she says they are friends, and still accepts it with grace. There were SO many obstacles to him expressing his feelings to her this night, and he just red rovered each one, and we are all very grateful.

Something about this scene is just built different, I like a lot of the love scenes in the show, but this one has some kind of secret ingredient that we didn't know we'd been missing. Maybe its the location, the context, the way they are just grasping at each other desperately (which if you think about how Penelope thought this was a one time thing in the books and she wanted to make the most of it, actually don't think about that)

He's also just so sweet about it, he's not angry, or insistent, he's just honest and intent. and she's just bewildered and INTO IT.

The lightning is gorgeous, the way it looks like Penelope is catching on fire and glowing. the catharsis, the giving into passion. The way she smiles like her dreams are coming true (because they are) before he just completely attacks her. What else can I say but EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

so many of the kisses are so tender and gentle, and they just build and build and build in intensity as they get lost in each other.

on a more horny note, so many moments here actually make me physically roll my eyes back in my head with how insane they make me. The desperate boob grab, the consensual nod, the way his hand slips under her dress, they were truly so insane for this. something tells me they knew I've waited literal years for this, so they knew they had to make it good.

Someone said Nicola should get an Emmy nom for moans, and she should, somehow they don't come across as cartoonish at all, and it doesn't take me out of the scene like some "noise making" does in these types of scenes. and for the record I'm not jealous at all, of either of them. in fact, no sooner did my head hit the pillow that I was met with complete and total darkness....not even a dream....

Like everything I could say has already been said, but it was so much better than I thought it was going to be, blew my expectations out of the water and DELIVERED. and DEVOURED. and RUINED ME. AND I AM VERY GRATEFUL.

Anyway that's all, I'm very afraid for part two so I needed some escapism, why am I already nostalgic for the good ol' times when Polin was happy for 6 minutes. thanks for reading! <3

[bluebugjay]

A lot of people aren't vibing with Charles and Crystal's romance and honestly i think it's because it's not necessarily supposed to be a full-fledged, endgame romance.

I think it's written to be a fling.

Charles is a flirt; one of the first things he thinks about when Edwin tells him ghosts can't feel is that he would miss kissing, he says himself it's nice to be seen by someone his own age, he calls Crystal fit, etc. Assumably between cases he has a very small social circle of literally just Edwin so it makes sense that this girl who he gets on with and finds attractive immediately becomes a bit of a crush for him.

Then Crystal picks up on his flirting almost immediately, again they get on, etc. She says if he wasn't dead and she wasn't dealing with the aftermath of her toxic relationship with David he would be a good addition to her body count, i.e. just a fling. She doesn't say they'd date or she could fall for him just that they'd probably hook up.

Their first kiss happens when they're both dealing with some heavy stuff, Charles is angry, continuing to push down his trauma with his father and his past, Crystal is annoyed about not being any closer to getting her memories back whilst trying to deal with the trauma her last relationship caused her. They find comfort in each other in that moment. Crystal says she wants something real and the care they have for each other is real, there's no manipulation, no secrets. It's honest and it's innocent.

The song that plays in that scene is called Young Blood (White Sea Remix) by The Naked and Famous and has lyrics such as 'we're only young and naive still' and 'can't help myself but count the flaws, claw my way out of these walls, one temporary escape' and 'we lie beneath the stars at night, our hands gripping each other tight, you keep my secrets hope to die' - It does align with the idea that they're what each other wants in the moment, a distraction, to be able to pretend everything is normal and ok (keep each others secrets)

Crystal in the next episode, the next morning after their kiss, literally calls Charles a 'cute distraction' and says they should be friends. This time both of their issues and trauma are the reason for them not continuing the relationship. Blatantly, Crystal isn't ready for another relationship so soon after David, she wakes up with a nightmare about him and Charles. They bring up Charles fighting the Night Nurse and Charles says that he thought they were on the same page about it and 'at least that's how it seemed last night' which again leans into the fact they were both looking for comfort. Charles and Crystal kissing had nothing explicitly to do with her supporting his actions fighting the Night Nurse and yet that's how he took it because that's what he was searching for comfort from and acceptance on. Which is most likely why he seems to take the rejection harder than Crystal, seemingly agreeing to be friends more out of respect for her choice than the want to call it quits himself.

Charles tells Edwin later on about the kiss (right after Edwin is complaining about having to cancel plans with Monty) and says though he didn't physically feel it, he did feel it 'up here' and points to his head. The mind is generally not the place you feel love, I feel that's a given. (reminds me of the starfish on the beach that Niko says are in love, Edwin points out starfish have no brain and Niko says love doesn't require logic, meaning: love is not stored in the mind.) Charles and Edwin's conversation veers off to being about there own relationship, with Charles saying he wouldn't want to be dead with anyone else - not even the girl you just kissed? No? Ok.

The way that episode goes (The case of the two dead dragons) Crystal and Charles end up arguing about the very reasons they decided to not continue their relationship. Crystal likens Hunter and Brad to David, and Charles defends them saying not everyone is her demon ex-boyfriend which seems like he's projecting and really defending himself. Then Crystal calls him out on his 'rage problem' and what happened with the Night Nurse. So though they comforted each other the night before, their real feelings for each others issues are surfacing and they're not so on the same page. Of course they get over this and apologise soon enough. Though in the end, it's Edwin Charles opens up to and actually talks to about how he's feeling rather than pushing it aside and looking for a distraction. And after that, Charles gives Crystal genuine comfort not just a distraction by listening to her talk about her nightmares/visions about David. (immediately followed by the scene of Edwin and Monty on the swings in which Edwin suggests they don't see each other anymore, then back tracks, they kiss followed by rejection which definitely has... parallels)

After that, Crystal and Charles are still an obvious source of comfort for one another, they talk to each other about their stresses, they stick close together a lot of the time but there's nothing inherently romantic to their actions aside from the fact we know they have kissed which gives their actions a depth that, for example Edwin and Niko's don't, despite them also being affectionate and spending time together alone.

Then in the last episode as Crystal is attempting to leave for London, her and Charles share another kiss. When she tries to say bye to Charles, he says it feels like a 'good-bye good-bye' rather than a 'see you back in London good-bye' and Crystal doesn't correct him, essentially confirming it was supposed to be a forever goodbye. She instead kisses him. It's a good-bye kiss. A (supposed to be) final kiss. A 'we had a good run' type of kiss. Crystal kisses him because she thinks she'll never see him again. It's similar to the first in which the kiss itself is the beginning and end, and it doesn't mean much past that. It's a kiss as a secret again, like their first kiss. A kiss to fill the space left by things they don't want to talk about. She doesn't want to admit she's planning on leaving for good so she kisses him instead, it's a comfort and it's a distraction. (and its consistent)

When Crystal decides to stay in the end, Charles says it'll be great, then specifies that 'solving cases together' will be great, not anything else that could of implied. Which could either be them just being awkward, or a flip in their dynamic that now Crystal is the one more involved in their relationship and Charles is the one setting boundaries.

Overall I think they have a really interesting dynamic. They are exactly what each other needs in moments and then the opposite in the next, they care about each other so much yet are possibly the people that unearth each others insecurities and traumas the most. They're both looking for a new, different kind of relationship and find it within the other but inherently once the novelty fades they fall more into being friends than anything more. I think like most of the relationships in this show, they're supposed to be complicated, they're supposed to be more of a journey than a destination. They learn and grow from their interactions together and I think that's something really beautiful.

[anyasathenaeum]

Lover (Nanami x Reader smut)

A/N:This is my first ever writing for Nanami/JJK as a whole. Please be nice about it. I felt like the Nanami lovers deserved some goodness. Do I know what I'm doing? No. Did I at least enjoy it? Yeah. Anyways, please have this... whatever this piece is. Warnings: MINORS DNI, AFAB!reader, female terms are used, mentions of penetrative sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT, FOLKS).

Nanami is a quiet lover.

His expressions of love are never glorified or big, never flashy or particularly grandiose. He shows how much he loves you through the little, quiet things.

The attention to detail with each and every lunch that's sent with you to your place of work. A hand on your lower back, guiding you through crowded spaces. A moment of remembrance, bringing you a treat or a gift you'd briefly mentioned in passing. A gentle kiss to your knuckles when it's nobody but the two of you, with no prying eyes around to witness the small gesture of love intended just for you. The way his hazel eyes lock onto you and soften oh-so-slightly the second you enter his field of vision. The small ghost of a smile that plays on his lips when he sees you.

Nanami refuses to let the world intrude on the refuge that your love offers. His love is meant for you and you alone. Nobody else would or should be privy to the love he shares with and feels for you. And so, his declarations of love are quiet; little secrets that only the two of you know about and would ever be able to recognize. It takes time, but eventually, you realize that all these little actions scream those three little words that Nanami refuses to say except for in the privacy and safety of your shared home.

"I love you."

Nanami is a gentle lover.

He's seen so much sadness, horror and suffering in this world, and despite his blunt and cold exterior, Nanami does every possible thing to protect you from all the wickedness in the world. It may have claimed others, it may have torn some of his friends from him, but it will not take you from him so long as he draws breath on this earth and he would be damned if he would ever do something that hurt you.

His touch is so, so gentle for somebody so big and so strong, his fingers tracing the softest of patterns over your delicate skin with the lightest touch, taking in every bit of you. His grip, while firm, never tightens to the point of risking hurting you, such as when his large hands hold your hips down and your thighs apart as he uses his tongue to draw the most beautiful sounds from your lips.

"K-Kento, I-... I'm gonna cum.."

You mewl and whine as Nanami continues to use his tongue to drive you closer and closer to your orgasm, his nose rubbing oh-so-gently against your clit with every movement and a hint of a smirk on his lips as his tongue delves deep into your pussy, relishing your taste and the feeling of you squirming from the pleasure he's giving you.

"That's it, my love. Cum for me."

His low voice sends shivers down your back every time, causing your grip on his blonde hair to tighten as he pulls yet another orgasm from you, the overwhelming waves of pleasure coursing through you. His hazel eyes never leave you as he continues to lick your pussy and suck gently on your clit, prolonging your orgasm for as long as possible until your body finally relaxes. Once you've recovered, Nanami's kissing you with as much love and care as he can muster, the taste of your slick on his tongue making you wet all over again and the seemingly endless ache for him in your core returns immediately, making you squeeze your thighs together. Of course, nothing escapes Nanami's notice, a rumble of a chuckle escaping him at the sight of your neediness.

"That's my girl."

Nanami is a tender lover.

With every thrust to the hilt inside you, through the haze of his pleasure, Nanami still ensures to treasure you for every moment he spends with you, inside you. You're carefully encased in his arms, tucked almost protectively beneath him as he presses his lips against yours, his cock filling you and stretching you deliciously with each and every stroke.

Soft grunts and growls slip from his lips as he fucks you with surprising tenderness, his gaze often drifting to where the two of you are joined so he can watch himself sink his cock into you over and over again, claiming your body in ways nobody else ever would. His fingers often intertwine with yours against the mattress or pull your hips ever closer to his own, allowing him to thrust into you even deeper.

The sudden, loud moan that escapes you as he angles your hips lets Nanami know that his cock has found the perfect spongy spot inside you, making you see stars as his thrusts increase in speed and intensity.

"K-Kento! Lo-love you! Love you, Kento! Kento, please!"

You can't control the words slipping from your lips as Nanami continues to sink his cock deep into you, never once failing to hit that spot deep inside you. The pleasure you feel is too overwhelming, your words escaping you without a thought and without hesitation as yet another orgasm washes over you, your cunt fluttering and spasming around him. The feeling is so intense that he needs to stop his thrusts in order not to fill you up then and there.

You whine when Nanami suddenly pulls out, a frown on your lips as you gaze up at him hazily.

"You didn't cum, Kento. Why'd you stop?"

The smile he gives you in return makes your heart flip in your chest - his expression is one of pure peace and adoration, the tenderness and affection he feels for you evident in his eyes as he takes everything about you in as you lay beneath him. He doesn't answer you, instead just leaning down and pressing his lips against yours. However, unlike before, this kiss isn't hungry or desperate, but rather gentle and soft and oh-so loving, and you faintly realize that Nanami is cherishing you, your body, your very existence in this moment.

He holds you close to him for a little while, giving you some time to recover before slipping his cock back inside you and beginning his thrusts once more, pulling more beautiful sounds from your lips and more soft moans escaping him as he works you towards yet another orgasm. This time, however, he doesn't slow as you cum once again, your pleasure driving him over the edge with you. A low groan escapes Nanami as he buries himself inside you to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he spills himself deep inside you, his seed coating your walls.

'Where it's meant to be,' Nanami thinks to himself, never saying the words aloud.

As he collapses next to you in the bed, Nanami doesn't hesitate to pull you into his arms, both of you panting from your exertions. He holds you close once again, saying nothing for a while and instead just watching you as you curl up against him, his heart aching for love of you as you press your cheek against his bare chest and wrap your arms around his much larger form. This time, before you can so much as begin to form any words, Nanami leans his head down, his lips by your ear as he whispers those three little words to you softly.

"I love you, (Y/N). Never doubt that."

Nanami is a lover. And his love belongs solely to you.

[reiderwriter]

Hi!!! I really love your writing 🥺 Idk how this works so Idk if my request is alright so If it's ok for you to write it, I got this idea about Spencer turning into a player/manwhore after maeve died so he's not into y/n in the beginning but the others always joke about how she's totally in love with him and he doesn't believe until he starts to notice little things she does for him(like getting him coffee every morning, remembering everything he says) so he start to fall for her. Genre: smut with soft!Dom Spencer, dirty talk, degradation(please no daddy kink) (Sorry if it's to long, I read it's best for you if we give as much detail as possible so that's that) I'm going to identify myself with this emoji 🥺 when I read the fic or in my next requests, hope I gave you something to write with.

A/N: Thank you for the request and omg this plot has given me brain rot since you sent it in 💀 I accidentally made this a little angst-heavy for the first half but there's a very "happy ending" if you catch my drift. I hope you love it! ❤️

Summary: Spencer Reid's heart is broken. But in healing himself in the arms of countless woman, he doesn't realise he's breaking yours.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, angst, oral (F receiving), fingering, P in V penetration, dirty talk, degradation of you squint a little, soft!Dom Spencer is incredibly soft.

My masterlist with all my other works is here, and my requests are open!

It had taken four whole months before someone on the team had confronted Spencer about his grief, his lack of sleep, his overall dreariness, and they were almost shocked that it wasn’t you that did it. When Rossi had walked up to him, offering a story about his Uncle Sal in an attempt to get him to open up, or at least seek help, the others were on the other side of the glass, shooting looks over at you, quietly enquiring with their eyes about why it hadn’’t been you to offer him that out.

But you had, you’d been trying. You’d been following him around, taking him food every couple days to make sure he was eating, sticking around to make sure that he wasn’t lonely. You’d even cleaned up after him on the particularly hard days, where he didn’t want to move from his bed and couldn’t bring himself to go outside if there was no work, no one else to save. But you couldn’t offer him more, because he already had all of you.

You’d first realised that you were in love with Spencer Reid a few months after you’d joined the team. You’d been bought on as a fresh set of eyes on a case that had a lot more to do with you then the rest of the team had been led to believe.

Your high school boyfriend had been the victim of a notorious highway murderer, and you yourself had been kidnapped by the unsub, put in hell for the following three days and escaped with your life only because of an earlier BAU team, including agents Hotchner and Rossi. When bodies had started turning up on the same stretch of highway, you needed to be involved or you’d never prove to yourself that you could do what they did to save you. That you’d be able to put your feelings aside and catch monsters.

You’d found the man responsible of course, and in restraining yourself from putting a bullet in his brain, you’d found yourself a place on the team, and some peace for a time. And then Spencer happened.

You really should have known. You were always fond of the nerdy type, of men who had such deep interests that they forgot to pay attention to social queues, who had too many cute habits (like purposefully mismatching socks) that you couldn’t help but find endearing. You’d grown close quickly, with the man grateful that there was finally someone to listen to him ramble and not judge him, and you grateful that he also held himself back enough, listened closely and well to remember so many details about your conversations. You knew an eidetic memory helped, but it was the care in the small actions, like buying you the beanie baby you lost as a child but still mourned, that you’d mentioned in conversation a grand total of one time, that really solidly made you realise. You were in love with him and had dug yourself a hole that you weren’t going to be able to climb out of anytime soon.

You’d almost told him once. Convinced that if you just explained your feelings, he’d suddenly feel the same or realise that he felt the same way, too. You’d opened your mouth to let the words run freely, but he beat you to it.

“I’ve met someone, and she’s totally brilliant and I think I might love her, and that must be an insane thing to say considering I’ve never even seen her face.” You’d willed the broken pieces of your heart together as you forced a smile on your face, ready to listen to the man who owned your heart smile for another, live for another, breath for another.

When Maeve had ultimately passed away, you knew that you’d never be able to say those words to him. You weren’t going to be the replacement for a dead woman, and you weren’t going to push those feelings on him when he was grieving. But you loved him and he needed you, so you stayed.

On the nights where he was so angry with the world that his words were biting, on the days where he said almost nothing so trapped inside his brain, in the hours between dusk and dawn where there was no rest for him, wiping away the tears that fell silently and just being as near to him as he needed.

You had some experience in broken hearts, anyways. You might as well put it to good use.

–X–

It had taken five whole months since Maeve’s death for the team to realise that Spencer was changing. He was still the same person intrinsically, ready to spring into a conversation about absolutely anything and everything that interested him at the drop of a hat, still debating with Penelope about which of them was smarter, still being teased in that playful way by Morgan. But there was a confidence to him now that was almost dangerous in the fact that it was uncharted territory for him.

You’d noticed it first on one of your regular coffee runs. The two of your were so serious about your coffee tasting like anything but actual coffee that you’d bonded over the need for a sweet treat, and had been going for coffee before all of your office shifts almost since you’d started. You were glad to have him finally back by your side, making stupid jokes about how many philosophers it would take to change a lightbulb, and actually smiling and laughing with you that you almost didn’t notice anything amiss.

But when the barista who took his order carefully slipped him her number - something she’d been doing for the whole six months you’d been frequenting that cafe - for once, he hadn’t thrown it away. He’d taken a lingering look at the digits inked neatly into the napkin and quietly slipped it into his pocket. You were confused to say the least, but since that night of your almost confession, there had been a boundary between you two in that sense.

It was almost as if, if you didn’t ask questions about Spencer’s love life, it was like he wasn’t out there, being in love. With Maeve it had worked fine because he’d never met her, and honestly, until you’d started trying to save her he hadn’t brought her up a lot. But now, you were too afraid to break your own heart again to check up on him, deciding to let it go for your own well-being.

The others had noticed soon enough. Comments about a pep in his step, his flirtacious manner with some of the female witnesses. He’d gained a few claps on the back from Morgan after closed off conversations that you had decided you were thankful not to have heard.

Because if you never saw or heard what Reid was doing, and apparently doing with multiple women, multiple times a week, then it couldn’t hurt you anymore than you were already hurting now.

–X–

It took seven months from Maeve’s death to realise that you were only fooling yourself this entire time.

Despite his new-found release, the therapy he’d found in the beds of women whose names he never learnt, there was one thing that you could still rely on with Reid, and that was your Friday night Star Trek watch-along.

You’d mentioned once a few weeks into your job that you’d never seen it before, and he’d had this absolutely starry-eyed look on his face in bewilderment, that when he’d half-heartedly suggested you watch it together, you’d leapt at the chance. Since there was so much of it, here you were over a year later, still keeping to that Friday night ritual. You’d watched it together in motels in the middle of nowhere, you’d watched it together over the Christmas holidays, you’d watched it together in the days directly after Maeve’s death, and tonight was supposed to be no different.

You pulled up to his apartment and knocked on the door, and when you couldn’t immediately hear him shout to “come in” from his kitchen as he was preparing the popcorn, you knew that something was wrong. His door was always unlocked, and he laughed at your habit of knocking on the door, insisting that you could just walk in anytime you needed.

Now that you needed to, your hand seemed heavier than ever. You gripped the cold metal of the handle, knowing exactly what you would find on the other side of the door, but still wanting to live in the clear denial of it. You prayed it was something else keeping him distracted.

You let yourself in and were welcomed with the sight that shattered your heart for the final time. There were clothes scattered across the floor, male and female. Shoes discarded in the heat of the moment. You didn’t want your eyes to follow, but your feet weren’t listening as they walked you to the bedroom door, thrust wide open, and you saw him there finally.

“Shit, Y/N, what are you doing here?” he scrambled to pull his clothes back on, to cover whatever woman it was underneath him that day, to make sure you didn’t see anymore of the image that would be burned into the back of your brain for the rest of your life.

You couldn’t say anything. You knew that he had been doing this, doing it to cope, doing it to move on, doing it to feel a sense of intimacy after he didn’t get that with Maeve. But here was the irrefutable proof that he’d never even looked at you with an ounce of the feeling you had for him. You held up the bag of snacks you usually bought to your Trek marathons as a response, the tears filling up your eyes rendering you mute as you finally tore yourself out of the room.

“Oh god, it’s Friday. I didn’t realise…. I’m sorry, can we do a raincheck, Y/N?” He guided you further out of the room, placing a hand to the small of your back to help move you along. Something in you snapped then and you recoiled from his touch, whipping your head up to him and just staring at him with all the defiance you could muster. He had broken your heart, you weren’t going to let him dismiss you that quickly.

“Y/N, why are you crying? What’s wrong, what happened? Tell me and I’ll do everything I can to fix it.” He finished his words, and made to wipe the tears from your face, but you slapped his hands away from you before he could make contact.

“Don’t… just don’t touch me, Spencer.” Those were the only words you could offer in explanation before you turned on your heel and ran straight out of his apartment for the last time.

–X–

It took one month from you storming out of his apartment for Spencer to realise that he hadn’t dreamt of Maeve in the same amount of time. Where his dreams had been full of her asking him to dance, they were now full of you recoiling from his touch, refusing to speak to him outside of your professional work, withdrawing into yourself and crying. The worst ones were the ones where you were crying because he tried desperately to hold you, to wipe the kisses away, but everytime he tried you moved further and further from his reach.

It had been a month of you ignoring him, and he still didn’t know what went wrong. Yes, you’d caught him in bed with a girl, but you knew he was doing that. You’d known from the start, and he’d known that you’d known, so surely it wasn't just that.

Morgan wasn’t helping him on that front either. He’d explained the awkward run-in in his apartment, desperate for some answers and received some pretty curt replies.

“Pretty boy, if you don’t realise what you did wrong, then there’s nothing I’m going to do to help you. You’re on your own until then.” He’d refused to talk about it anymore.

He’d thought a few times about talking to the girls on the team, but you’d been partnered with JJ for the last month on cases to avoid him, and there was a bond there between the two of you that he didn’t want to overstep.

It was in this confusion that Rossi found him again, taking pity on the boy wandering around like a lost puppy in the absence of your friendship.

“Kid, what is up with you again recently?”

“Y/N has been avoiding me, and I don’t know why. Derek said it was my fault because she… well she walked in on something that I’d rather she hadn’t, you know, and I don’t know why she still won’t talk to me because it’s been a month.” He rambled out, thankful that someone was finally hearing him out.

“If I’m understanding your insinuation here, I think I know what the problem is.” Rossi sat back, choosing his words carefully, so as not to startle the younger man. But he was so worked up all over you, missing your voice, your touch, your company, and just wanting you back in whatever way he could get you that he jumped at the very suggestion of answers.

“Then please, tell me, I’m begging you. I’ve been tearing my hair out trying to figure out what it is and I just miss her so much that it hurts.”

“Spencer, you know I usually don’t get involved in the personal lives of my coworkers, but just listen to me now, nice and calmly - and dont try to interrupt me or say a word. I know what I’m talking about, okay?” He gave a quick nod of his head, waiting with baited breath for Rossi to continue.

“The girl is in love with you. Head over heels, in fact, and has been for quite some time. And she was holding it together real nice until you decided to become this casanova and now she is heartbroken,” Spencer looked like he was about to interrupt, to spew out that that couldn’t possibly be the case, but Rossi silenced him with a look. “If you don’t believe me, you use that memory of yours and you do what you do best. Think about it.”

–X–

For the next three months, that was all Spencer did. He thought about every interaction you’d ever had. The blush on your cheeks when he’d introduced himself for the first time (and refused to shake your hand). The countless nights spent curled up on opposite sides of his couch, laughing and crying together at silly sci-fi shows. The way you’d thrown yourself into his arms after a particularly gruelling case, buried your head in his chest instead of anyone else's. The day you’d finally confessed your past to him, how he’d felt your heart beating as he held a finger to your pulse, hand gently holding yours waiting for you to finish describing the time you’d stared death in the face.

You’d noticed the change, but you wouldn’t let yourself acknowledge it fully. Noticed how he’d shoot you lingering glances from across the room, how he’d look like he had something to say when you announced you were leaving for the night. How he’d ask everyone together what their friday night plans were just to hear you admit that you were going home alone in the company of the rest of the team.

You’d noticed, and god had it given you a spark of hope that you wished would die quickly. You’d noticed, and so you weren’t as surprised when he turned up on your doorstep four months after you’d last talked to him, on another friday evening.

“What are you doing here?” you greeted him, the words coming out colder than you wanted them to seem, inwardly cursing yourself for letting your emotions get the better of you.

“Don’t make me leave, please, I just have something to ask and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Spencer, it’s been a long day, and I just want to go to bed so-”

“Do you still love me?” His words cut you off and your heart all but stopped. Your tongue grew heavy, and the inside of your mouth tasted acidic, knowing that you weren’t going to be able to fully stomach whatever conversation was coming.

“Excuse me?” you spluttered out eventually.

“Three months ago, Rossi said that you were in love with me, and I need to know that if that was the case, are you still in love with me now?” You expected some cold curious look to be gracing his face, but you looked up to see his eyes perfectly trained on your own, his mouth set in a line, a look of stony determination set on his face.

“If I say yes, what difference does that make?” you tried not to spit out the words, but you had no control over the venom in your heart.

“If you say yes, then I am going to kiss you, and then I am going to spend every last day I have on the planet making up for being an idiot for the last two years.” Your breath caught in your throat, and, not for the first time in front of Spencer Reid, you were stunned into silence.

“So, what is your answer?” He looked down at you again, and you started to see the cracks in his stony facade, started to see through to the man who desperately wanted you to say yes, to scream it at him.

The word hadn’t even fully formed on your tongue before he was crashing down into you, his mouth pleading for forgiveness and wrapping you up in him. He grabbed you and pulled you back into your apartment, whispering into each of your kisses.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” The two of you stumbled into the space, but he never moved his hands from the sides of your face, cupping your cheeks gently as his lips brushed against yours again and again.

Your legs gave way beneath you by the time you’d reached the open space of your living room, but instead of catching you, he fell to his knees with you, content for the two of you to just sit there together in each other's embrace.

“You’ve loved me this entire time, and I was too stupid to realise that you’re everything I need.” He kissed your mouth, your jaw, your neck, moving his hands from your face to your waist, pulling you in deep again as you desperately pulled away in search of breath. That only toppled you further to the ground, and he came down on top of you again as well, one hand coming up to cup the back of your head so you didn’t hurt yourself.

And you kissed him back just as fervently when your breath returned, listening to every apology and forgiving him with every touch. His kisses said “I’m sorry,” and yours said “I know,” and that was all the communication you needed for now.

He pulled your shirt over your head eventually, and your skin met the cold tile of the floor, a shiver running up your spine causing you to buck your hips up into his. He hissed at the contact and pushed his bodyweight down further into yours, his legs slotting perfectly between your splayed ones now.

“It took me too long to realise, and it has taken me too long to act on the knowledge, but I am not going to let you go again, do you understand?” he pushed his lips into yours again before you could respond, and you clawed into his shoulders as he started grinding down into your body. His hand trailed up your waist to your breasts, pulling them free from the constraints of your bra, as he let his tongue slide down from your neck to your chest.

“I need to hear you say it baby, need you to say you understand, can you do that for me?” Your body burned under his attention, back arching desperately for more contact as his tongue swirled your nipple into his mouth, gasping breaths loud enough to fill the empty air of your apartment. His stiff cock was firmly pressing against your core now, barely clothed in the pajamas you’d pulled on before his arrival.

“Spencer, yes, I need you, I need you right now, please,” grabbed at either side of his face and pulled him back up so he was face to face with you. You initiated the kiss this time, and you could feel your heart soar at the tender kiss he met you with, thankful for the reciprocation.

“Not yet, baby, not yet, okay?” he whispered in your ear, trailing his hands down to your centre and slipping his hand under your clothes. “So fucking wet for me, baby. Just for me, right, baby?” His fingers found your clit, and he started rolling it between his fingers. He worked slowly enough to drive you insane, but giving you just enough relief that you couldn’t complain.

“Yes, Spencer, yes, yes it’s all for you. Only for you,” you managed to gasp out. He shifted his hand after a few minutes, still pressing love bites down your chest, claiming you as his in the most animalistic way possible. He spread the wetness that pooled at your core around, making sure that his fingers were coated in you before pushing a single digit into your aching hole, thumb continuing to draw circles around your bundle of nerves.

“That’s my little slut, so desperate for me, so needy for me.” His words shot through you, and you started thrusting your hips up desperate for more friction with his hand. He roughly pushed you back down, pinning you under him with his free hand.

“No, baby, I’m in charge here. You sit back and relax and let me make you feel good,okay?” His words soothed you, the growing heat in the pit of your stomach fizzing in anticipation. His kisses dropped lower and lower, until he was finally pulling off your remaining clothing and replacing his thumb with his lips.

“Fuck Spencer, if you keep doing that, I’m going to-” another sharp intake as he pumped a second finger in and out of you.

“Going to what, baby? Use your words?”

“I’m going to cum, Spencer please, I’m going to cum, I’m going to cum.,,” you rode out your high with his face stuffed between your legs still, swallowing your loud moans for fear of the entire neighbourhood knowing just how obsessed you were with this man.

“You did so good for me, baby, so good. I love you so much, okay? I’m going to take care of you from now on, okay?” He began pressing kisses to your mouth again, and you could taste yourself against him now.

“I need you so badly, baby, are you going to let me have you?” He started pulling off his own clothing now, removing his shirt and tie, but never once leaving your embrace for too long.

“I love you so much, baby. I’m sorry for not realising before, but I realise now. I was so terrible to you after Maeve, and god, even before she died I was using you as a therapist to talk through my thoughts and fears, but I was too dense to even realise that I was only in love with Maeve because she was safe. I couldn’t meet her, couldn’t touch her, didn’t have the chance to ruin anything I had with her. I couldn't realise that she wasn’t you, that she wasn’t going to feel like you do in my arms. And maybe some part of me loved her, but we were using each other, and I was using her to avoid confronting how I felt about you.”

“And how I feel for you is different. I am obsessed with you, Y/N. I am so madly in love with you that the last four months have felt like hell. I could have emptied myself of all the blood in my body and still my heart would be beating for you. Do you understand?”

You answered in a chaste kiss on his lips, sweet and quick, but as much as you could muster without driving yourself to the brink of insanity getting yourself high on his touch.

“Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want now, okay?” He’d unbuttoned his pants shortly after that and you stared transfixed at the head of his cock poking up and out of them, desperate to see it, touch it, taste it.

“I need you inside of me, Spence, please,” you cried out, tears welling in your eyes at the tender contact, the confession. All the emotions you’d been burying for the last four months bubbling to the surface, dancing around your head as he made you dizzy with desire.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you,” with the last of his clothing removed he was finally free, taking his heavy,aching cock in his hand and lining himself up with you. With a single thrust, and another confession of love, he gave you what you wanted so much.

“You wanted me like this, baby? So desperate to have my cock inside you?” he plagued you with questions as you adjusted to his size, watching your face for any discomfort as you mumbled out yes after yes.

“Me too, baby. I wanted you just like this, wanted you so desperate and dripping for me that I could slide right in, wanted you like this for me and only me.” He began thrusting then, slowly pumping his cock into you, heavy with each return, the sound of skin slapping against skin joining the ensemble of your moans.

“I love you,” he said again, and with each thrust of his hips, and you responded in kind, matching his thrusts with your own and pressing a kiss into the skin of his shoulders. You were so desperate and needy, so starved of touch and starved of one another that neither of you lasted long. Your bodies were so in sync that as soon as he’d pushed you over the edge for a second time, you could feel him spill himself inside you, filling you completely.

He rolled off you, but didn’t leave you there, picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom. He cleaned you up as much as possible, then folded you back into his arms, holding you again so tenderly that you let the tears flow down your cheeks for a final time.

It was Friday night, and he was here, and he loved you. You weren’t going to let him go again.

[sh1-n0bu]

✿ 𝙞 𝙖𝙢 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖 𝙜𝙪𝙣 ✿

characters: boothill x gn!reader

warnings: fluff, angst/no comfort, spoilers to his character story, reader death, canon typical violence, blood, death, injury description, slavery mention, reader is a galaxy ranger, reader also has burn scars, some mechanical and medical things might be incorrect

notes: i have been spoiling yall too much with the constant fluff and smut. so here throws this fic into your face. divider from @/cafekitsune. a deep thanks to @theblades for helping me find a way to kill reader off😇

word count: 6.2k words

bright sunlight, gentle breeze ruffling through his bi-colored hair and the soft laughter of children. he loved the days spent at the farm, playing hide and seek with his siblings in the corn field, looking after the animals at the farm and taking some out for a walk. if him and his siblings could be sneaky enough, they will be able to snatch a few of graey’s handmade cookies through the kitchen window before dinner time. if not, they’ll get caught red handed, yet be let off the hook with a few soft pinches to their cheeks and one cookie for each since graey was just that soft.

sometimes, him and nick would ride their horses, wilding through the forests and endless fields to lead their cattle to better water and brilliant clouds. nick would sing loudly and proudly — he always does — and soon, he would join in with his young, soft voice pitching out the same song. nick would laugh boisterously, ruffling his hair and knocking off of his hat in the process. he would whine about it, saying things such as his hat getting dirty and being scolded by graey. nick would just laugh and shrug it off with a “sorry kiddo”.

he loved this place. he loved the corn fields he runs through with his siblings, he loved the loud voice of graey yelling out, scolding the kids as they run off laughing like a bunch of menaces, the oldest holding the box of cookies graey keeps on the highest shelf away from them, he loved the guns that nick would pull out from his old box of tools, teaching him how to properly aim and how to shoot the empty cans placed in the distance. and the excited yell of the other kids when he finally manages to knock one down, making him feel giddy as nick congratulated him on his first shot. after he fully mastered the old handgun of nick and shot down all 5 cans in a row, he was rewarded with nick’s old cowboy sheriff medal. the golden, 5 pointed star was old and looked rusty but to little ol’ him, it was the biggest and most treasured gift he ever got.

little ‘loaded gun’ never separated from that medal. he wore it his jacket ever since nick pinned it there for him, proudly showing it off to his siblings and talking about how he will take after nick and graey’s profession in the future. how he promises to nick and graey that he will make them proud, how he will live up to their expectations and become an even better cowboy.

“you sure will, little partner” nick would always laugh and pat his head, re-adjusting the medal. graey would sigh and roll his eyes at nick’s actions before reminding him that he doesn’t have to choose that life if he doesn’t want to. young ‘loaded gun’ would pout, whining that he wants to.

“but i want to be a cowboy! i want to be like you and nick, taking down bad guys, bringing justice and firing big guns!” he would yell, shooting his arms up in the air and jumping around.

“uh-huh. talk about firing big guns after you lose that lisp of yours” graey would chime in, always quick to reprimand him for his missing tooth and lisp as his hands affectionately smoothen out his messy hair, groaning in defeat as the mess of black and white refuse to be tamed.

“but i already lost it! i’m a big boy now!”

“hey graey! am i a big boy capable of firing big guns now?” were the first words he said as he brought back his first successful bounty. the smell of gunpowder and ash clung heavy to his jacket but he didn’t care. the smaller kids ran up to his sides, asking for upsies while his siblings who had already grown up and decided to stay at the farm pat his back and ruffle his hair with affectionate teasing quips.

he did it. he held his promise and followed in the footsteps of graey and nick, the old rusty gun and the sheriff medal being a motivational tool for him to reach his goal. now, all grown up and a master trickshot amongst the cowboys of aeragan-epharshel, ‘loaded gun’ was ready to aim and fire at anyone who dares to harm the innocents. although it had been years since the last time he saw his parents and siblings, everything about them and the old red barn stayed the same. though, the corn field looked a little bit bigger than he remembered.

‘loaded gun’ had done a lot in his life since becoming a cowboy. from fighting bandits in the dusty fields, chasing thieves at the dangerous cliffsides to having a gun fight against rival gangs. there were many times he had narrowly escaped death, breathed nothing but the metallic scent of blood, death and bullets and he still prevailed. although he had lost friends along this deadly road, he had also gained many.

that night, ‘loaded gun’ sat across his parents, seated amongst his siblings as he recalled tales of his adventures. the warmth of his younger siblings’ hugs, the teasing quips of the elders’ back pats and the proud looks nick and graey gave him — he was sure of it; this place was where he was the most happiest.

so when he found a little figure, wrapped in a measly ragtag of a fabric, crying out and lonely, he knew he had to step in and take in the little one. it’s what was right and what graey and nick would have done. a small bundle, not even a month old was left to fend for herself. ‘loaded gun’ carefully cradled the baby close to his chest, trying his best to soothe her cries as much as he could.

“graey! nick! i need some help here!” and ‘loaded gun’ had become a father.

ever since becoming a father, ‘loaded gun’ has experienced everything that parenthood had to offer. sleepless nights of the baby wailing at an ungodly hour, searching for his comfort and warmth. having to change the baby’s diapers and bathe her. checking the temperature of the milk in the bottle before feeding time — everything parenthood brought him, he took it all in strides and jolly laughs.

sometimes, he would put the baby in a small bucket and take her out on the farm with himself. the little baby would laugh and clap her tiny hand together, big bright eyes unknowing of what was happening as ‘loaded gun’ fails to tame a wild stallion, proceeding to get his ass thrown off of the horse’s back. seeing his little girl so happy, how could he ever stop making a fool of himself? he even went far as to carve out a mini guitar for her after seeing her fascination with his old, weathered one.

“from now on, yer name will be clementine. can’t have my little girl going around without a name, right?” he asks, bringing up the white haired girl into his arms and raising her into the air. clementine only giggles, blabbering some stuff as she laughs at the feeling of being in the air. seeing the baby’s innocent wide eyes staring down at him, head haloed by the high sun, ‘loaded gun’s grey ones soften as a teary smile forms on his face. the scars on his hands remind him of his profession and dangers of being a cowboy, but in his heart, he swore that he will keep his little girl safe and to be the best father he can be.

“my little clementine…”

gone... it was all gone.

the corn fields where he used to run through with his siblings when they were young, the old red farm that was in the middle of being repainted, the comfortable warm yet dingy house that him and his family used to live in — it was all gone. the scent of sulfur and burnt bodies hung in the air, ash raining from high above like it was some sort of a rain, turning his already dirtied and burnt clothes into black. there was no sign of nick, graey, his siblings nor the panicked farm animals.

little clementine... where was she? aeons, you can do anything you want to him but please spare his little girl, please by some blind miracle, let little clem be alive. he won't care what he has to do or which burning log he has to push away with his bare hands, just let him hear the sound of his little girl's cries to let him know that she's still alive and he'll do it. he'll do anything to save his little girl.

running through the scorched earth, 'loaded gun' calls out for his family. nick, graey, his siblings and even by their childhood nicknames. clementine, where was clementine, where was his baby girl? his little girl, where—

small red scarf and a burnt mini guitar. that was all he had managed to dig out from the burning farm house of his home. that was all he had left of his little girl, the red scarf that was the same copy of his own and the hand carved guitar with its strings plucked due to the heat of the bomb. those two things were the only things he brought with himself as he travels through the vast galaxies, searching a certain doctor who had made themselves into a cyborg successfully.

on the kingdom of bandits, talia, did he found the doctor. heart heavy, eyes full of vengeance and burnt hands holding onto the strap of his bag that had his little girl's memoirs. the doctor tried to persuade him into thinking over his decisions again, to woo him into staying as a human and not to lose said humanity. but 'loaded gun' was steadfast in his decision. if he wanted to stay as a human, he would have already thrown his body into the fires that engulfed his home.

with a deep sigh and slight reluctance, the doctor fulfilled his wishes. blue colored blood being pumped into his new metal body, no longer warm, scarred flesh but rather a clean plated metal being wired into place. at least his head was kept intact. after everything was over and he regained consciousness, he simply thanks the doctor and leaves his payment on the operation table full of his former human blood mixed with his new cyborg blue ones. he didn't wanted to look at the walls or the floor — it was covered in filthy purple liquids.

"before you leave, will you at least tell me your name?"

"... it's boothill now"

"well, good luck with your hunt mr.boothill"

it has been... how long now? boothill doesn't know. since his 'rebirth' as boothill, he has spent so much time traveling from one world to the other, destroying one ipc ship to the next. it has been a bit too long in his opinion, as the destruction of his home planet has stopped being brought up as the latest hot topic at every bar or saloon he visits. or maybe they never talked about it to begin with. the ipc had friends and slaves everywhere, at every branch or organization or world, boothill wouldn't be surprised if they had ended up covering their filthy work by masking it as an another 'horrific accident that befell a poor world before we could save them' type of thing. the ipc were amazing at their manipulation after all.

"those ipc folk sure have been having some hard time since your sudden emergence huh, cowboy?" a voice rings out to his left, a body covered in a bright red coat sitting down beside him at the bar. gesturing to the bartender, he watches from the corner of his eyes as you order a glass of earl grey and marmalade cooler with extra ice. boothill doesn't know this stranger draped in red was nor did he care. but judging by the way you easily knew of him as the latest troublemaker against the ipc, you have probably heard of the bounty on his head or you just travel the galaxies a lot. or it could be both at the same time.

turning his head just a little bit more towards the side, he looks you up and down, trying to see if there are anything that makes you stand out in any form of way. anything to hint at what or who you were.

old, faded, long, red coat left open at the front, smart by the way you have easily deduced he was a cowboy by just his accessories and clothing alone and ordering anon-alcoholic drink despite having set foot inside a bar and took a seat beside him. he can't see any weapons on your body at the moment and your red coat was covering most of your body too. he'll just have to go in blindly then.

"done checking me out, cowboy?"

by the time he had finished assessing you and had looked up to see your face, you were already staring at him with a nonchalant smirk on your face. for some odd reason, boothill could feel his cheeks heat up and wires zap inside his metal body. there was just something about the way that you easily teased him and wasn't ashamed to hold an eye contact with his target shaped pupils that got him feeling weirdly self conscious. had he forgotten to shine the metal plates of his body today? was his revolver still in place, shiny and strong? what about his bullets? his hat? his hair? oh what if he smelled? can cyborg bodies have any odor to begin with—?

"come on now, don't look away from me. i was talking to you" he could hear you coo out, your hand coming up to turn his chin so you could look at his face. the warmth of your hand touching the only leftover human part of his, the laidback confidence you had in your own self, it all got boothill letting out a steam from his ears like a cartoon character as he quickly turns away from you, his hand pulling down his hat to save whatever tiny drops of image he had.

what a shame, turning into a flustered mess like a high school girl talking to her crush by just the smallest amount of flirting he received. where was his class? his sarcastic remarks? the sassy quips and bites he gives to those who touched him? his tongue felt heavy, cheeks felt like they were on fire and he could just hear the gears inside his body shifting and turning at an uncomfortably fast pace that made him feel like he was overheating. or maybe he truly was overheating. darn, he should visit the doctor again to get some certain things removed.

"a-ahem, didn't yer' parents teach you it's not okay to flirt with strangers at a bar?" curse him for stuttering over his words, he was supposed to appear cool not like a teenager boy dammit! and the way your lips curled upwards even more at the tripping of his words wasn't helping. well he'll be damned, you have a smile that cowboys would kill each other for.

"i'm [name], a galaxy ranger. and you are, dear cowboy?"

idiot cowboys like him would kill each other for.

"name's boothill, sugar"

it has been exactly 2 years and 4 months since boothill first met you and was introduced to a faction called the galaxy rangers. apparently, galaxy rangers are a voluntarily formed group that follows the teachings of lan, the hunt and carries out acts of service, upholding peace and justice. some galaxy rangers are a bit ruthless in the ways they deal with the injustice that happens at some worlds or galaxies, some are a bit more diplomatic, some travel in groups of friends and colleagues while some travel alone.

you were once the latter one; a galaxy ranger that travelled the cosmos alone, a bright red shooting star that shine and never fade till the break of day, bringing hope and destruction at once. were; because it has been precisely 2 years and 4 months since boothill has started to travel alongside you. he had decided to become a galaxy ranger, the voluntary group's ideals appealing to his own sense of vengeance and justice that he wishes to bring to a certain group.

"boothill, it's time to wake up" you call out, having always been the early morning bird out of the two of you. walking towards the bedside of the asleep cowboy, you poke at his eyebrows and nose, pushing his lips into random emotes, snorting at the slight hint of drool on his lips. despite having an all metal body, the cyborg was still very human at heart. you've seen the way he helps the elderly cross the roads, entertaining the kids of your stop of the day by teaching them how to properly hold a gun or to shoot one, how he pets a stray dog or a cat, how he sits down at the bar with you after a successful mission, a guitar in hand as he starts to sing in an unfamiliar language. how he looked sad as he regularly cleans the sheriff medal on his jacket, how he stares at a certain picture that he keeps in his jacket pocket.

or even the ways he calls out to a little girl with white hair, addressing her as "clementine", before apologizing and patting the girl on the head to say "be careful, kid". you've seen it all, or what you like to think of as all of boothill.

"fuck meeee, it's still early dawn sugar" the cowboy groans out, voice groggy due to his voice bank having been on resting mode and just restarted. reaching an arm out, he manages to grab a hold of the back of your shirt before you could escape, pulling you down onto his bed as you let out a shriek. grunting at your flailing limbs and attempts to escape his clutch, he only tightens them, climbing on top of you with a cheshire grin on his face.

"that's what ya' get for trynna wake up a cowboy, sugar. ya' get put in time-out" boothill grins at the red of your cheeks from laughing too much, a surprising flare of cuteness aggression coming over him as he leans over your face to gnaw at your cheeks with his shark-like teeth.

"on-nom nom nom nom nom, i'm gonna eat up yer' mochi cheeks, sugar!" the cyborg says, making an overdramatic munching noises as he gnaws the sharp edges of his teeth over the soft fat of your cheek. you could only laugh, throwing your legs back and forth as you try to escape his hold.

"boothill! you're a whole damn 700 kilogram of pure metal alone, get off of me!" you shriek out when the mischievous cowboy starts to gnaw on the skin of your neck and chin, akin to a baby kitten throwing a temper tantrum. as if to spite you, he only rolls his body over yours more, squishing you flat down onto the bed with a menacing laugh.

it was usual to start the day like this between you and boothill. he was not a morning person, you were and usually you would have to end up paying for being the early bird as he squishes your body flush against his own metal one. sometimes you two would end up just falling back asleep, with you being held hostage in boothill's grasp and boothill comfortably squeezing his face into your body. sometimes, you two would end up like this, just laughing and having a harmless prank time together. other times, you two end up with a bunch of ruined pillows, the feathers dancing in the air as you try to get at least a hit on him. but somehow, boothill was always better than you when it came to pillow fights.

"now what happened 'ere, sugar?" you could hear boothill ask, finally managing to get a deep breath in as he finally lifts away some of the weight he had on you. a cold, hard metal tenderly ghosts over where your neck and shoulder met, over the old burn scar you had. oh right, you forgot of that little fella there.

"ah, that. it's just some old burn wound from one of my earlier days as a galaxy ranger. there's nothing to worry about, don't worry" you hum, bringing a hand up to run through his mess of a bi-colored hair. his hair was always a mess no matter the circumstances, it was honestly a wonder how he doesn't have urges to cut his hair short. not like you were complaining, the long hair suited him perfectly and you wouldn't want him to change his looks.

as you lay there on the hotel bed, looking up at the ceiling, thinking over where to go next or what route you two should take during this next new mission of yours, boothill was busy remembering an old memory. an old memory that he wished to forget so vehemently.

red and orange — that was all he could smell all around him. the burnt down farm that was in the middle process of being renovated, the burnt carcasses — it wouldn't be right to call them carcasses, there was nothing much left remaining to even properly call them as that — the corn fields burning down. sulfur and death — that was all 'loaded gun' could smell as he dug into his burning home. the heat that scorched his face or licked away at the skin of his hand didn't bother him. all he wanted to do was to find his daughter, his little girl, his little clementine. please, let her be alive by some miracl—

"boothill?" your voice echoed in his head, snapping him back from the dreaded memory lane he accidentally made a trip down towards. looking up at your face, he could see the furrowing of [c] brows over your [c] eyes as they stared at him with so much concern, affection, wonder and care. he takes in the details of your face as his breath gets stolen, seeing the way the [c] locks circled around your head as you reflected the perfect image of what he thinks aeons looks like. by the mighty aeons, you were gorgeous. and how his breath is found once again as you run a hand through his hair, blunt nails lightly scratching at his scalp. you stole his breath away as easily as breathing it back into him.

leaning close into you, he felt the way your breaths mingled with his own, how if he were to try and reach out, he could feel your body heat against his only remaining body like an anchor, like a long awaited lover returning home. there was warmth in your eyes that was missing in his cold, metal body. humane marks that was reflected onto his own vibranium plates that tried to imitate human flesh. there was humanity in you that boothill feared he lacked in himself.

"[name]... i want to taste your lips" boothill breathed out before he could even catch whether he was imagining his words or was outright saying it. and he did get what he politely asked for, your split lips connecting with his own intact ones. he tasted life that he was sure that he had lost on your lips, a memory of something old and tender that had been burned away in the fires that scorched his home and your body. he felt something move and beat rhythmically within the confines of his gears and wires, convinced that he had somehow, by some way regained his heart. regained his human body. regained his humanity.

you breathed life into him and he found himself asking for one more when your lips left his own, and one more, and one more. and one more.

"boothill, when was the last time that you went to the doctor to have your body checked over?" you say, turning your attention away from sharpening your sword to his body. even from such distance, you could see some screws getting a bit looser, some little wires or the ends of wires peeking out from behind the plates of his body. from what you could remember, the last time your partner had told you of going to the doctor to have himself checked over was... perhaps a year ago.

as galaxy rangers, you two now constantly get into fights and battles. especially with the ipc as the corporation has added you to their list of wanted figures besides boothill's growing dead or alive bounty. in an order to be ready for any ambush or unplanned fights that may take place, you and your partner must be ready for any sort of fight that may come your way. which also means making a trip to the kingdom of bandits and thieves, talia, a bit often to see the doctor.

something that boothill insists doesn't have to be done after every fight or to have you follow him. the cyborg insists that it's for your own safety but you know that he just doesn't want you to see him being taken apart and put back together again like... like he has lost his own sense of self. despite his flair and bright smiles, you always knew that boothill had a deep sense of problem with his body. you know, since you were always the one to collect his breaking consciousness into your awaiting warm arms to place him back together again. peace by loving peace, you were akin to a warm candlelight that soothed his worries and shooed away any fears that might dig its claws into his wires.

"uhhh... dunno sugar. maybe a year? or even over a year ago..." the cowboy replies, looking up from his own weapon that he was cleaning. seeing your eyes narrow at him and shoulders become stiff, boothill quickly places down his revolver, waving his hands as a form of self defense from your already approaching lecture.

"h-hey hey hey! but don't worry, i'm genuinely doing fine, sugar! if anything, it should be nagging you for not resting and properly taking care of that shoulder wound!" the cyborg was quick to defend himself, instead pointing a finger towards your direction. more specifically, your shoulder.

"it's just a small cut, boothill! i've already gotten it cleaned and wrapped in bandages" you raised your arms in a surrendering motion, now taking on the side to defend yourself from his words.

just as boothill was about to retort back with something smart-mouthed, you two suddenly fall silent as the familiar sound of the heels of an eerily familiar corporation uniform resounds in the hallway boards of the inn. those footsteps and the light click! clack! of their weapons told you two everything you needed to know. silently, boothill puts on his hat, reloading his revolver at a terrifyingly fast pace. meanwhile, you shrug on your signature red coat, newly sharpened and cleaned blade ready to slice through the ipc's weapons.

waiting patiently behind the doors of your inn room, you two wait with bated breaths until a very quick clicking of the door opening is heard. before the door could even creak open on its old hinges, boothill has already taken the first shot. without needing for words to talk about tactics or which side to take, you rush out, the sharp edge of your blade cutting through the ipc's every weapons. behind you the sound of gunshots and bodies hitting the floor follows.

it was simple, really. you disarm the ipc and boothill takes care of the rest. surrounded at all sides? you will always take the east side while boothill takes care of the ones on the west. and if there's a ew weapon or a surprise in your way, boothill will just blast it high into the sky with his arm canon and you can make the rest of them into thin noodles at record time. a deadly duo you two were, gutsy as you stood against the ipc in its whole with no fear, only excitement at what new weapon you'll come across or who could get more hits in. perhaps that's precisely why the ipc decided to send battalion after battalion after you two this time. perhaps it was the bounties on your head that caused the inn owner to betray your trust and rat you two out.

either way, nothing could exactly stop in your way. weapons cut, guns exploded due to bullets meeting inside the hole, armories torn apart and ipc managers blasted. there was nothing that could stand against a hurricane of two galaxy rangers. a red coat flashing past the ipc, a grey shine that took down a panicking soldier standing kilometers away. but there was a little problem. boothill's loose wires had connected with the wrong ones, causing him to stay in his lock 'n loaded state. target shaped pupils now bright red with the grey of his irises now bright red that perceived all those with a weapon as an enemy.

after the final ipc manager fell apart in a heap of metal and wires, you heard the sound of a gunshot still being fired towards the west. was boothill ambushed? was he okay? rushing over to where the sound is the loudest at, you couldn't help but gawk at the state of the corpses and remains of some of the robots. the large gaping holes were not normal, if anything it looked more like a canon bullet with how the entry holes were bigger and the exit holes were smaller. why was boothill using his arm canon at every chance he got? what was happening?

"boothi-!" a bang rings out just as you make it to where the gunshot was the loudest, bullet wizzing past your ear, nipping at the shell of it. the wound left ringing in your ear as you hold up a hand to cover the injured ear, looking on in fear as the red iris and white pupils of your partner looks straight back at you. you could see your own reflection in his eyes and boothill didn't look happy to see you.

eyes that used to stare at you with fondness and sea of affection now stared dead into your own pupils as if you were an enemy. a threat.

"whatcha' lookin' at, scum? come on, let's see ya' dance" this was not your boothill, this wasn't your beloved, this wasn't the same sweetheart whose eyes turn into heart shapes every time your own gaze meets his. this was not boothill.

dodging a bullet by a mere graze, you duck behind an overturned table. shit, think [name], how do you get him out of that state? you briefly remember him telling you that he briefly goes into lock 'n loaded state when he has a stand-off duel. but what more? he was locked in that state of his, ready to kill anyone that comes close. do you have to duel with him to make him snap out of it? but you don't know how to shoot a gun.

but... what if it doesn't have to be a gun duel?

"hey!" you call out, sliding on the floor to hide behind another chair that was flipped over when the canon bullet of boothill shoots through your old coverage with no mercy. "how about a duel, cowboy? you think you can be a faster draw than me?" you can hear his gun click, knowing that now he needs at least a few seconds to reload. maybe 5 seconds at best, boothill was fast in his reloading. you hear a soft scoff as you hear his gun open, the soft clanks of his bullet entering the cylinder resounding in the empty room. one, two, three -- all six bullets in and the soft clink of the hammer of his revolver releasing indicated that boothill was ready for a draw.

"hah, what do you think, sweet cheeks? think you can keep up with me?" you can just hear the taunting in his voice, goading you to make the first move. deep breath in and out, your hand holding the sheath of your sword, ready to draw. silence takes over the room as you speedrun any plans or ideas to catch him off guard. any idea to make him snap out of it. you can be the faster draw but that won't promise you a win if your life is going to be lost.

a steady hand is what you need. just a steady hand to knock some sense back into boohtill... a steady hand to knock some sense.

"come on, fucker. what's taking ya'—" the table he thought you were hiding behind is abruptly flipped over towards boothill, taking him by a sliver of surprise before he aims and pulls the trigger. once, twice and the table was split into half. a chair was next, a single explosive bullet causing the woods to splinter and cover your form as you dash through the room, straight at him.

"'atta you fuckhead! packing some guts, i see!" boothill laughs, aiming straight at your head and pulling the trigger. the bullet doesn't hit, you managed to draw your sword in time to cut it in half. a grin matching the sense of a maniac high spread across boothill's face at the clinking of the two bullet pieces hitting the floor. all you had on mind was to get near him at this moment, nothing else. another bullet is fired, getting cut apart in the middle before his revolver joins, being split apart by your expert swordsmanship.

close enough, you can do it, you can snap him back into his senses.

the sound of broken revolver and dulled blade hitting the floor is disregarded the moment you lean in close to him, hand raised, fist reared back, ready to knock some sense into him. at the same time, boothill's left arm raises towards your abdomen. time seemed to slow and all you had in mind was to deliver a sharp knuckle sandwich.

BANG! CRACK!

your sharp punch landed straight across his face, making his hat drop to the ground. if this was any other bar fight, you would have laughed in his face as you witness his red iris turn grey again, paired with the signature marksman symbol pupils. you did it, your plan worked and boothill was back. when you wanted to point at his face and scold his ears off, all you managed was a weak wheeze. strange...

the world spun around you, the horrified face of boothill catching your attention alongside the sharp pain at your side. you didn't even knew that you fell to the ground as boothill cradles you up into his arms, holding you like how he always does as his metallic fingers gently hold your cheek. his mouth was moving, bi-colored hair falling like a curtain over you two as if to keep this moment hidden from the prying eyes of the corpses in the room.

what was he saying? there was a permanent ringing in your ears and you couldn't be more annoyed about the timing of something more than now. you wanted to listen to his voice, the gentle rasp as he apologized for now listening to you, the hidden tenderness as he calls you an idiot for getting too close to him. breathing became harder for you, black dots appearing in your vision, hindering you from seeing the way boothill was desperately holding you tight against his body. you must have hit your head pretty heard when you fell.

"... i told you... to have yourself checked o.. ver..." you barely manage to say, your voice dying in your throat as you try to talk to him. shaking hand comes up to cradle his cheek, trying to wipe away the tears that streaming from his grey eyes. why was your hand bloodied? it left stains on your dear boothill's cheeks and he will surely complain about it as he tries to wipe it away with his own metallic ones like a cat. you felt cold from the inside, you couldn't move your legs and even holding up your hand felt like a chore.

perhaps a nice rest will help you relax and gain your strength back. and when you wake up again, you will be back in the inn's room, your favorite cowboy by your side, clinging to you like a lifeline as he snores open-mouthed, wiping his drool all over your shirt. when you wake up again, your favorite cowboy won't be covered in blood. when you wake up again, there won't be this annoying sharp sting at your side that felt like your whole intestines were spilling out.

"sugar...? sugar, no, don't close your eyes! [name] wake up!" boothill yells, shaking your bloodied body as he tries to make you regain consciousness. you can hit him all you like, put pink ribbons in his hair, steal his hat, scold him for all you want, just please don't close your eyes. please don't fall asleep. please, don't leave him alone.

"... i'll get lost again if you leave me..." there was no pulse. your body was cold already. and the cyborg wished he could cry again. at least one last time.

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Nymphets

daemon x rhaenyra x alicent

A/N: This was a request so i hope you enjoy! I don't usually do character x character but new things haha

WARNINGS: smut, threesome, overstim, incest

WORD COUNT: 954 words

To him, it was an exquisite sight to behold, the sight of Alicent and Rhaenyra trying desperately to get each other off. Both girls are clearly untouched with the way they desperately rub their cunnys against one another. They look so frustrated, the poor sweet girls… and Daemon just wants to help.

“I wonder what your fathers would think if they saw this sight.” Daemon walks around the corner into Rhaenyra’s bedchamber. The girls scramble off each other and try to cover themselves with blankets.

“Daemon!”

“M-My prince!”

They both squeal out at the same time. The two girls are so flustered and humiliated and wet but he’ll make them feel better.

“Please don’t tell my father.” Alicent begs and he chuckles.

“But you’ve both been such naughty little girls.” He tsks.

“Kepus, don’t be cruel.” Rhaenyra pleads.

“Then don’t be such a little brat when I was just about to offer you both my help.”

“Your help, my prince?” Alicent asks, looking up at him with her big soft doe eyes. She looks ever so innocent and demure.

“I watched for a few moments before I came in. You seemed to be struggling, pet.”

“We weren’t struggling!” Rhaenyra protests, clearly jealous along with her embarrassment. Daemon walks over to the side of the bed she’s on and slaps the side of her thigh. She squeaks.

“Don’t be such a brat.” He grabs her chin in his hand. “Do you want my help or not?”

She stubbornly doesn’t answer so Alicent cuts in. “We do… my prince.”

“Call me Daemon while we are alone here, pet.” She nods timidly after he speaks. “Now lie back. I’m going to show Rhaenyra how to take care of you.”

Alicent’s cheeks get very red as she lies back, wanting to cover herself when Daemon spreads her legs. “No need to be so modest.” He looks to Rhaenyra. “Watch closely, niece.”

Both girls are surprised when he goes down to kiss her cunt. They didn’t even know that was something that could be done. Alicent mewls when he starts to work his tongue against her. She grips the bedsheets with one hand and Rhaenyra’s hand with the other. Rhaenyra watches closely to her friend’s reactions to every single one of her uncle’s movements.

“I want to try.”

Daemon smiles. “Get to work then.” He says as he parts his mouth from the Hightower girl, watching eagerly as his niece takes his place.

With her upper half pressed to the bed and her hips so high in the air, Daemon takes the opportunity to play with his little niece’s wet cunt as she eats out her friend. Alicent’s hips buck a little against Rhaenyra’s mouth as she gets closer and closer to finishing, her hands now in the Targaryen’s hair.

“I feel something strange…” Alicent murmurs.

“I know you do. Let go.” Daemon coos, running his fingers through her hair as he continues to finger fuck his niece. 

Rhaenyra whimpers against Alicent’s cunny as Daemon rubs at her clit and it sends Alicent over the edge. She lets out gentle moans of her friend’s name as she writhes against the bed.

“Good girls.” Daemon praises as Alicent shifts up the bed so Rhaenyra’s face is no longer pressed into her cunt. Daemon keeps his niece down with a firm hand on her back so he can continue to bring her to her peak as well.

“Mmm, kepus.” She whimpers out as he moves his fingers roughly. He takes his hand off of her back and grabs her hair, pulling her head up so she has to look at her friend.

“Look at Alicent when you cum.” He commands, liking the forced intimacy of it all.

The actions, the words, it all sends her over the edge. She keeps eye-contact as she creams around his fingers.

“Lie back now, next to her.” Daemon says.

He spreads his niece’s legs, tugging at his own cock to prepare himself.

“I-I need a moment first.” Rhaenyra says.

Daemon chuckles. “You’ll be able to handle it.” 

He pushes into her slowly and begins to rub at her pearl right away. She squirms and tries to push away but Alicent soothes her, petting her hair and kissing her face.

“That’s it.” Daemon murmurs as he begins to thrust into her. “Fucking take it.”

Rhaenyra whines as he rubs her clit harder, fucking her harder in tandem. With Alicent playing with her tits as they kiss sloppily, it’s enough to put her over the edge. She squeezes around her uncle’s cock, cumming all over it but he doesn’t stop.

“Too… too much.” She whines as he pounds into her.

“You can handle it.”

“I can’t.” She pleads.

He sighs. “Sweet spoiled brat.” He pulls out. “Come here, pet.” He gestures to Alicent and she crawls over slowly. “You have another lesson to learn about pleasing men.”

“What is it?” She asks.

“Take me in your mouth and you’ll see.”

She looks ever so nervous but she takes his cock in her mouth, suckling it slightly.

“That’s it, baby. Mover your head a little.” Daemon says as the girl sucks him off. “You can practice too.” He says to Rhaenyra before bringing up his hand and pushing his fingers between her lips.

He tries his hardest not to but he can’t help how he starts to fuck Alicent’s mouth. The way she gags and gargles just makes it all that much better. When he feels himself getting close to cumming, he pulls out and spills over both of the girl’s faces.

“What a lovely sight.” He says to the kneeling nymphets. “Come up now. I think it’s time we get the two of you into the bath.”

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33

[christhopersturniolo]

୨ MY LITTLE SISTER ୧ matt

summary: you had some plans with your boyfriend matt for the weekend, but something unexpected happens, and you have to babysit your little sister.

notes: this is my second time ever writing a fanfic (go read my first one) and english isn't my first language, it's probably not very detailed and there might be some mistakes, but I hope you enjoy it! all ears to feedbacks, l'd love to know what you think!

warnings: cussing, fluff

୨୧

I sigh “And why can’t you take her with you?” I say taking my eyes out of the screen and looking at my mom.

“How long will it take for you to understand that your dad is on a business trip and i’m going on one as well?” She answers walking from a side to another, packing some of her things. “I can’t take her with me, even if I wanted to.”

"But mom-" I start, only to be cut off.

"No buts, Y/n.” She interrupts, her tone firm. “I’m being serious." She looks straight into my eyes "It's what I'm telling you, you'll have to stay with your sister. I won't be paying for a babysitter while you're here with your ass in the couch. You are almost 18, you can very well take care of her, it’s only for the weekend.”

“But I told you I have plans with Matt!” I exclaim, leaning my head back on the headrest of the couch in annoyance.

My mom is about to reply when we hear the sound of my 3 year old little sister's footsteps coming from her room, followed by her little giggles.

We automatically get silent about this topic. I take a deep breath, reminding myself she's not the problem, she's just a child caught up in our adult issues. Bella is not the problem.

Don't get me wrong, I do love my sister, but it's a bit overwhelming to adjust having a sibling after being the only child for years. And with my mom's age, it's unexpected, to say the least.

SKIP TIME

Today is the day that my mom is going to her ‘super important business trip’, and also the day Im supposed to have a date with Matt.

After my mother left at 7am, Bella and I found ourselves up earlier than usual. We already had breakfast, so now, we don’t really have anything to do. We go to the living room, watch some TV.

Bella sits on the couch next to me and chooses the channel. After some good ten minutes, I look at my right to check on her, and she’s completely asleep, what makes me smile.

Until I realize that I didn’t canceled my dinner with Matt.

Shit, I completely forgot to talk with Matt! Fuck!

I get up and I go over to my bedroom, getting my phone and calling him. He takes some seconds to answer the call.

“Babe? Sorry, did I wake you up?” I ask, hoping the answer would be ‘no’.

“No, No, No..” He says with his husky morning voice, he definitely just woke up. “But why are you calling this early? Is something wrong?” I could feel myself getting fucking soaked as he talks, sorry, but his voice in the morning? I can’t take it.

I take a deep breath, trying to think straight. "Um, yeah.. Actually, my mom went out for the weekend, and I have to babysit my sister.. I don't know if I'll be able to make it to the dinner we had planned tonight”

“Oh” A simple response, What does that even mean? He probably hates me now.

"I know you already made the reservation, and I was super excited, I swear," I start saying nothing with nothing, feeling guilty for ruining our plans. "But then my mom told me she had this thing and..."

Before I could finish apologizing, Matt cuts me, understanding. "No babe, that's fine. Don't worry. Maybe we can do something else? With your sister? I have stuff to do all day, but I’m free at night, maybe we can have a sleepover or something?”

I sigh in relief “Yeah sure, that sounds great, I will talk about It with Bella”

“Alright call me later sweetheart, love you, bye” He ends the call and I go back to the living room, getting back on my place.

Bella is still peaceful sleeping on the couch. Not wanting to disturb her, I cover her with a blanket, but my actions unfortunately wake her up, blinking her sleepy eyes open. A small yawn escapes her lips, and she looks at me with a drowsy smile.

"Hey, sleepyhead" I whisper, gently brushing a piece of hair from her face. "Did you have a nice nap?" Bella nods, rubbing her eyes with tiny hands. "Mhm" she murmurs, snuggling deeper into the blanket.

I think about a way to tell her that Matt is coming over before she could fall back asleep “So.. do you remember my boyfriend, Matt?" Bella blinks, her sleepy expression turning curious. "Mm-hmm" she mumbles again, nodding slowly.

“What if.. He came over to a super fun sleepover with us today?” I say trying to sound extra excited to convince her.

Bella's eyes light up with excitement at the mention of a sleepover. "Yeah!" She exclaims, her drowsiness quickly dissipating. "Matt is funny!" Her sentence makes me chuckle “Oh he is?” She nods giggling, It doesn't even look like she just woke up.

The rest of the day, she doesn’t stop talking about Matt.

“Then- Then will Matt play games with me?”

“And can we watch frozen? I think Matt will like it”

Over and over, she’s more excited than me. But I mean, I can’t blame her, It’s Matt over all.

Around 8pm, Matt rings on the doorbell. I go over to the front door, Bella follows me, getting behind my left leg. I open the door and I see my boyfriend with two bouquets of flowers, a big one, and a small one.

“Hey love” He leans for a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek, then he hands me the bouquet “This is for you”

A smile appears across my face, I chuckle “Thank you so much.. You really didn’t had to” I say looking at my favorite flowers.

“No that’s fine, don’t worry” Matt returns the smile, his eyes lighting up as he sees Bella peeking out shyly from behind me. "Hey, Bella" he says warmly, crouching down to her level. "I also brought these for you, little princess" he says, offering her the smaller bouquet with a gentle smile.

Bella looks at me, seeing Bella's hesitation, I give her a soft nod, silently urging her to accept the flowers from Matt. With a shy smile, Bella reaches out and takes the bouquet from him, still with one hand around my leg.

“What do we say Bella?” I place my hand on the top of her head, caressing her hair.

“Thank you Matt” She says still shy.

"You're welcome, Belly" He responds getting up, his voice gentle and kind.

Some hours after playing some board games and talking, Bella decided to go get her toys.

She returns carrying a bunch of dolls and stuffed animals, then she settles onto the carpet in front of us and places everything there. “Matt come play with me!” She says excited with some barbie’s in her small hands.

He gets up from the couch, and sits down next to Bella on the floor “Alright so what doll am I?” Bella looks around “Hmmm..” She grabs a really bad looking doll, marker-covered, and hands it to Matt. I automatically start laughing uncontrollably, Matt matches the energy.

I am just watching as they play, Bella makes Matt use a girly voice, what just makes everything ten times better for my entertainment.

After Bella got tired of playing with her toys, she made us watch frozen, it’s her favorite movie, this is probably her fifth time watching it. I sit on the left side of the couch, Matt on the middle and my sister next to him. Some 30 minutes after the movie started, Bella is already with her head on Matt’s lap, sleeping like a little angel, as Matt gently strokes her hair and she snuggles closer to him.

His eyes meet mine, seeing me watching him, he smiles “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing” With a soft smile, I rest my head on Matt's shoulder “You just look so cute taking care of kids” He chuckles and leaves a kiss on the top of my head.

୨୧

this actually sucked, i’m so bad at doing cute scenes, this def wasn’t what I had in mind lol, maybe i will delete it later.

[irndad]

TULIP WITH THE GUY EVER

this is for peter!! im feral for this man my god this is long for nothing happening- guys i am SO fucking rusty prompt: an act of affection so blatant everyone notices roommate!peter &lt;;3 flower prompts

It’s hard not to look at her. 

There’s so much to observe, so much to place his attention on- how she smiles, the way she taps the sides of her mugs before she sips her tea. She’s a vision in red lipstick and he’s the kind of person that’s blessed to be in her presence. 

It’s a Friday night, and there’s a sweet sort way that she curls into herself. She’s been his friend for just about a minute longer than he’s been in love with her, and he’d like to think he does a decent job at hiding this fact.

He landed on his hip today, from a height far enough off the ground that it still hurts, pain radiating from every step as he walks home. The commute is actually quite far from his internship at the newspaper, but he likes the area he lives, and the woman whose company he keeps while he lives there. He makes concessions. 

Still, he’d been looking forward to the sight of her since the ache began. Her presence had a way of soothing. 

She’s curled up onto an inherited recliner in their shared apartment, and when he bursts their creaky door open in a fluid motion, he’s greeted with this sight. She’s not alone- some friends from her graduate program on their Ikea couch. 

It’s girls night, and it’s his dutiful role to say a quick quip and head back to his room. Her two best friends are over, legs splayed over each other in an open display of affection that he adores witnessing. He could hear the laughter and yelling from outside the apartment itself. He likes how they make her laugh, how they seem to make her heart lighter when he can tell she’s not able to carry the weight of everything by herself. 

“Peter!” She’s the first to even notice he’s around, and he tries not to let the stubborn firework in his chest keep exploding at the thought of it. At the thought, she sees me. Her voice is warm and kind and weightless, and he drinks in  the sight of her. Their floor lamp illuminates her in warm golden light, a coupe glass with red wine held in delicate fingers. 

“Hey, you,” he replies, an unmistakable warmth he can’t seem to rid himself of in his tone. He tries not to seem disappointed, like he’d not been imagining watching an irrelevant TV show, a little too close together until they’d fallen asleep just that way.

As he’s hanging his withered coat, he asks, “What are you guys up to tonight?”

Her friend explains that they are watching the Spy Kids trilogy in order, and she nods dutifully along. 

“That sounds wonderful,” he can’t help but laugh. “I’ll leave you guys be-“ 

And it’s no surprise, when they send a him a chorus of please join, and you’re welcome to be here! 

She stands up to give him a hug goodnight (because she wants to kill him), and he envelops her before he can stop himself. She smells like a mixture of lavender and rose and sweet red wine, and he’s grateful for his heightened senses for a moment; it doesn’t take long to memorize it all. 

It occurs to him that he won’t see her until morning, and he takes in the sight of her again, eyes raking over her. She really is beautiful- lovely in a way that radiates her smile, follows her in action. His hands rest on the curve of her waist, and something and things being made to fit one another cross his mind, against his better judgement. God, he could spend forever looking at her, longer touching her. 

He only pulls away when he hears a muffled pair of laughs, failed attempts at not interrupting a moment. Which is absurd, because there is no moment. None. 

She beams at him despite the laughter of those she holds dear, and it aches saying goodbye to her. She's just down the hall and it hurts to leave.

He slinks off to his bedroom smelling like her perfume, blushing bright red and maybe, just maybe, the tiniest bit hopeful. And he thinks he might of heard the faint whisper of two other people, whispering questions he mulls over every day.

"Just roommates, huh?"

[spirantization]

"Wild Blue Yonder" dealt with some of the emotional fallout of the Flux, so I want to rewind a bit and look at what that means for the Doctor.

I know that the Timeless Child and the Flux are contentious topics. I'm not here to argue either way. But now those storylines have decisively not been retconned, and with both of these fresh in my memory, I feel the need to offer some context for anyone who may not have seen it, and to recontextualize it for myself and anyone who has.

NotDonna: You don't know where you're from. The Doctor: How do you know that? How does anyone know? How does Donna know?

In "The Timeless Children", we find out that the Doctor was discovered as a child alone under a wormhole, and adopted by a woman named Tecteun. There was an accident where the Doctor fell from a cliff and regenerated, and subsequently Tecteun performed "experiments" on them to try to understand regeneration. The show minces words about this but she killed a child a whole bunch of times is what happened. Her experiments created the Time Lords and allow them to engineer their regeneration properties. The Doctor has no memory of any of this, and only finds out via the Master and information stored in the Time Lord Matrix.

The Doctor, predictably, doesn't tell anyone about this revelation. She makes a speech to the Master about how this makes her more, we get a single shot of her looking a bit tired in the TARDIS, then she immediately gets thrown in prison.

Ultimately, the Doctor doesn't know where they're from or who their parents are. And the very fact that they're not from Gallifrey is information that no one in the universe should have. Everyone who knew is now dead.

NotDonna: I saw it in your head. The Flux. The Doctor: It destroyed half the universe because of me. We stand here now, on the edge of creation, a creation which I devastated, so yes I keep running, of course I do! How am I supposed to look back on that? NotDonna: It wasn't your fault! The Doctor: I know!

A fun fact about the Flux is that the Doctor did not cause it. So why does he blame himself? Because the person who caused the Flux was Tecteun.

The reason why Tecteun wanted to destroy the universe is because the Doctor interfered with things too much. Too much morality. Too inspirational to people. She calls them a virus. So her solution to the problem of the Doctor is to destroy the universe, with the Doctor inside, and take her ship to a different universe to start fresh. She also was the one to steal all the Doctor's memories of previous lives in the first place. She's dismissive and patronizing and clearly does not care about the Doctor on an emotional level at all. Tecteun is a piece of work, and the implications of her actions and how they've shaped the Doctor have the potential to go deep.

Thirteen doesn't get too much of a chance to react to any of this, because there is plot going on. And shortly after they reunite, Tecteun gets killed by a different villain. So there was no emotional closure in the moment, and there's now no possibility for the Doctor to make sense of her actions. The Doctor does not tell any of her friends about any of these events. She keeps promising to tell Yaz but does not.

"Wild Blue Yonder" is the first time we, as the audience, hear the Doctor discuss the Flux. And their perception of events is skewed at best. The Flux wasn't caused because the Doctor made a mistake and a lot of people were killed, which is what you can argue for many other situations. The Flux and the devastation of the universe was caused by their mother, who promptly turned around and told them it was their fault for being such an interfering nuisance. We know that the Doctor is often an unreliable narrator, but this is beyond that. These are the words of an abused child who has internalized the narrative that the abuse was their fault.

So the Doctor being able to talk about this with Donna, who has seen what happened, who knows him, and tells him that it's not his fault — it means so much to him. He wants it to be her so badly. And then NotDonna laughs in his face. You can see the devastation. He thinks for one moment that he can finally talk about this with his best friend, and it's snatched away from him. He gives himself a moment to break down in the corridor, and then you can see the walls rebuilding as he suppresses it all again.

At the very end of the episode, back in the TARDIS, he's trying very very hard to be nonchalant. I'm curious. The NotDonna could remember all these things that happened to me while we were apart. Can you? Just wondering. Things happened, but I'll be fine. In a million years. It's not a joke.

He wants so badly to be able to talk about this. You can see it in all the lines of his body language. He's keeping himself together but is prepared to fall apart in an instant. He doesn't want to actually tell anyone, but if Donna just magically knew already, and could tell him it wasn't his fault ��� well, that would make the world of difference. But she doesn't know, and he can't bring himself to tell her. And so the cycle continues.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Alright, so there's been a lot of chatter about some of the most common racist takes in the fandom lately, and I know most people aren't engaging in good faith but I'm gonna spell some things out anyway. Here's a handy-dandy White Fan's Intro to Racist Fanon 101

Why is it racist to depict Ed as uncontrollably violent?

Because he's not actually depicted that way in the show. OFMD goes out of its way to depict Ed's relationship with violence as complex and intensely traumatic for him. Because he has so many hangups around violence, Ed is one of the least violent characters in a show full of violent characters. He is always shown giving people many chances before they're able to push him into reacting with violence.

Even if you think you're just doing a character study on a guy who is really very complex and nuanced, please take the time to consider if you're assigning more weight to Ed's violent actions than those of other characters or assuming he's worse than he actually is (for example, Ed never physically hurt the crew during his kraken spiral, just Izzy. His crime was being a shitty boss, not going on mindlessly violent rampages).

What do other common fanon depictions of Ed that are racist look like?

The biggest ones are depicting Ed as untidy/messy, as illiterate, and as needing a white man (most often Izzy) to clean up after him. I hope I shouldn't have to spell out why these are racist, but please keep an eye out for them in the fanon you consume so you can be critical of how you respond when they pop up.

Are you saying that all Izzy fans are racist?

Liking a character is morally neutral. Insisting that the viewpoint of an antagonistic character is the lens through which the show should be understood, though, especially when that antagonistic character's whole deal in the first season of the show was trying to control the behavior of the brown lead so he could gain power for himself, however...

Just please consider - why do you find Izzy's tears more deserving of sympathy and compassion than Ed's?

But my hot take/fic/meta doesn't say anything about Ed's skin color!

It doesn't have to. Most of the racist takes/fic/meta out there don't mention Ed's skin color explicitly. Racism doesn't just look like saying "this character is a brown man so he's bad." Everyone who grows up in a racist society (that's everyone on the planet, btw, you included) has biases to unlearn, and those biases impact how you interact with the world around you, including with the media you consume.

The thing is, OFMD isn't a subtle show. It's very consistent with telling us who Ed is, how he responds to situations, and why he behaves the way he does. If you find it easier to throw all that aside in favor of believing what a white antagonistic character tells you about him, then you should really take a bit to examine that.

And here's the most important thing to keep in mind:

This is not about you.

Trust me, it has to be pretty damn bad for fans of color to call out racism in fandom. Every time we do, we know we're gonna harrassment and just some truly awful shit in our inboxes. But you, random white fan who Did A Racism? No one is out to get you. No one thinks you're an awful person for including a racist trope in your stuff, we just wish you'd examine it so we can make this fandom a better place for everyone.

I have had amazing discussions with white fans who saw my posts on fandom racism and wanted a sensitivity read or a check so they could fix an instance where they uncritically included a racist trope. But most people who make similar mistakes will just double down and insist they didn't do anything wrong, and that makes fandom a worse place for all of us.

Fans of color deserve to feel safe and included in this fandom, and we're just tired of feeling like we have to beg to get some circles to see poc as people. You can do your part by being critical of these tropes and your reactions to them when they pop up.

[sankta-wraith]

One thing I think is really important when it comes to understanding Daemon and Rhaenyra's relashionship is the fact that Daemon doesn't show his love through words, he does it through actions. Quite frankly I'm not sure he knows how to verbally express love. He can't support her emotionally, but he can still do other things for her.I think this is shown really well in season 1 episode 10 and season 2 episode 1.

When Rhaenyra learns of her father's death and the Green's usurpation of her throne, she goes into premature labor almost imediatly, so there is no time for her to start planning her bid for the Iron Throne. Daemon takes the liberty of starting to plan the beginings of the war, and in doing so leaves Rhaenyra to endure childbirth alone. There is a very memorable scene in which Daemon schemes with Rhaenyra's small council at the Painted Table, whilst Rhaenyra screams in the background, even calling out for him at one point. Daemon makes no move to go to her and simply continues to plan a war, at least until Jace informs him that Rhaenyra doesn't want anything done until she is able to join them. Even then he does not join her. He goes to threaten two members of the Kingsguard with Caraxes, so as to ascertain that they will remain loyal to Rhaenyra. Now, when I first watched this scene, I, and probably everyone else, assumed that Daemon was taking the opportunity provided by Rhaenyra's premature labor to seize control and have the war start on his terms. Rhaenyra also seems to believe this, as when Jace inquires about Daemon's wherabouts she says "Off planning his war." However, upon rewatching that episode, I think that think that Daemon refusing to attend Rhaenyra in her labors and instead planning a war for her, is actually his way of trying to help her. Daemon is thinking that, while he does not know how to comfort her, and hold her hand, and help her through childbirth, he does know a thing or two about war. In his mind, he's essentially saying something along the lines of "I cannot help you there, so let me remain here where I am of use to you," because, as I said above, Daemon expresses love through his actions, not his words. I think at least part of him wants to be there for Rhaenyra, but he just doesn't know what he can say or do that would help her, so he focuses on what he can do: getting the council together and starting to plan, so that when Rhaenyra comes back he can show her that he's done something of use.

Then, when the child is stillborn, Rhaenyra once again needs comfort and reassurance that Daemon just does not know how to give. There is a scene of them, standing in front of their daughter’s funeral pyre, and you can see him give her this very concerned look, and kind of glance over like he wants to say something, but he doesn't, because he just does not know what he's supposed to say. Then Ser Erryk (or maybe Arryk, I can never remember,) arrives with the crown, and Daemon is relieved because he might not be able to offer her kind words, but he can be the one to put that crown on her head. A gesture that is even more meaningful if you consider how much he wants that crown. By being the one to physically place the crown on her head, he is telling her "I'm sorry that I can't be there for you, but I love you and I will support you." Then they go back to the war council, and Rhaenyra is asking about their numbers, and Daemon is the first one to speak. He starts talking almost before Rhaenyra finishes asking, he seems almost eager (even though their numbers are nothing to be eager about,) because she's finally asking him for something he can give. This is his chance to show her that, even if he cannot be there for her emotionally, he can still do this. He can organize this war and help her win, and do damn good job of it. This is really how Daemon says "I love you."

Then fast forward to 2x01, and Luke is dead, and Rhaenyra once again needs a level of emotional support he's simply not equipped to give, only this time, there is nothing else he can do to help her. He tries to convince Rhaenys to fly to Kings Landing, but she refuses, so he can do nothing except sit around, helplessly, while Rhaenyra mourns. Then she comes back, and he tries to be supportive, by asking if she "found what she needed," but she doesn't answer him. Instead, she declares that she "wants Aemond Targaryen." In Daemon's mind, she has essentially told him that to comfort her, he must have Aemond killed. So he uses his contacts in the City Watch to arrange it. I think one of the reasons he gave Blood and Cheese such vague instructions as to what to do if they can't find Aemond, is because he needs something for Rhaenyra. He can't be helpless any more. (Note: I am in no way condoning Blood and Cheese, or saying that Daemon did the right thing. I am simply trying to understand him and his choices better. Please dont come after me.) But then it fails. Catastrophically. And not only has Daemon failed to help Rhaenyra, he has made things much worse.

So he goes to Harrenhal to get the support of the river lords. But, so far, he has achieved next to nothing. (Obviously he's been busy with the hauntings and home renovations.) But he will not admit to Rhaenyra that he's failing miserably, so he ignores her ravens and sends none of his own. (I don't believe any of the bullshit Ryan Condal is trying to spin about him betraying her.) Because he will not go back to Dragonstone empty handed. Because to Daemon, that would be like telling Rhaenyra he doesn't love her anymore.