#when in doubt trust in writers
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definetelynotavampire · 1 year ago
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having own ideas is out, drawing fanfic scenes is in
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gemmafuckingscout · 2 months ago
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in retrospect i think it’s so funny that my first reaction to the first 3 eps of season 2 was just “damn the writing is so terrible this season. they’re making helly act so out of character” like television writers have really done a number on me huh
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gojoest · 5 months ago
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not to be tmi about it, but once upon a time life presented me the opportunity to have a fiery romance with my favorite journalist with whom i have a 25 yr age gap and who is a dilf
#— ai rambles#who is also a writer and now he’s a politician LOL#he’s not what you consider objectively attractive but i was in love with his brain#back then he also worked in the radio so i listened to him and read everything religiously#i admired him so much….#and i ended up sending him a friend request on FB lmao#which he accepted I WAS SHOOK#i was in uni back then 1st year ended it was summer break into my 2nd year#he texted me….and i couldn’t believe it like the man i’ve admired for so long is talking to me??????#so we slowly started texting every day….until at some point he was sending me books by mail for me to read#we were talking about meeting when i got back to [redacted] where my uni is and where i live now#bc during summer breaks i was usually at my parents house in my hometown#but i chickened out guys bc 1) the age gap scared me i was like super young okay#and 2) i wasn’t sure if he wasn’t with the woman he had kids from#men can say anything to you and you should never trust them 🤞#i did a hardcore research on the internet all fbi mode to find out about any possible clues that might hint at him still being#involved with her but i couldn’t find anything bc he’s super private about his life 💔#i slowly distanced myself from him bc what if they were still together#i didn’t want to be a homewrecker#i can be anything but i’ll never be that#i just had my doubts and suspicions and i am glad i bailed like that bc now that woman is listed as his partner when you search him up#which ofc doesn’t mean they were together all along maybe they separated and got back together#but feels like i dodged a bullet LOL#he still likes my posts on FB though and by posts i mean my photos i share from ig#but yea LOL#idk why i was suddenly reminded of him#maybe he’s thinking about me too LMAO
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thrandilf · 1 year ago
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i rly feel out of my mind when ppl can't believe a story can change or get better or that a start can be rough to them or slow and then it picks up
like yeah curate your own experience but it sucks when you wanna get someone into smth you've seen all of and they're like "well i dont like x at the start of this" and it's like oh that's cool, that's addressed or the show changes that approach or explains more later but the person doesn't believe you on it and doesn't give it a chance even though the complaint is like. they've already seen the part they don't like and then miss out on the rest they'd like
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luna-azzurra · 10 months ago
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MASTERLIST ✍🏻
Hi! This post is a huge collection of all my writing tips in one place. I will update this list and add new posts✍🏻
Writing Tips
How do i Plot a Book?
Childhood Friends to Lovers Gestures
Showing 'Fear' in Writing
examples of body language and action tags
Writing Trust Issues Tension
Quick Tips for Writing Emotional Tension
How to Write a Ruthless Character
Showing 'Anger' in Writing
12 Emotional Wounds in Fiction Storys
Gestures for Shared Moments
Symbolism in Writing
Instead of "Looked", consider
Words to Use Instead of "Said"
Showing 'Determination' in Writing
Showing 'Confusion' in Writing
Showing 'Anticipation' in Writing
Introduce characters
Showing 'Exhaustion' in Writing
Showing 'Excitement' in Writing
Writing a Morally gray character
Showing 'Jealousy' in Writing
Showing 'Love' in Writing
OC Developement
Eye Color to Define Your OC,
Describe your Main Character sheet
Body type and shape
Good Traits Gone Bad
Dialogues
Dialogue Prompts that Hurts
Jealousy Starters
Dialogue Prompts for Friendship
Dialogue Prompts for Unrequited Love
Gestures of Loss
When A Character Is dealing with anxiety they…
When A Character Is hilariously confused they…
Isolation Starters
Regretful gestures
Undermining Confidence Starters
When a character is Babysitting for the first time
Control Starters
Guilt-Tripping Starters
Soft angers Dialogue
Gaslightning Starters
Emotional Blackmail Starters
When A Character Is stuck in a never-ending traffic jam they…
Dialogue Prompts for Mystery/Thriller
When A Character Is dealing with an overenthusiastic fitness trainer they…
Confidence Starters
Prompts
Physical Intimacy Prompts
forced proximity prompts
When A Character Is feeling nostalgic they…
When A Character Is excited about something they…
Prompts for self-Doubt
When A Character Is excited about something they…
Grumpy & Sunshine Affection Prompts
Moral Dilemmas Prompts
when a Character us stressed they…
Supernatural Elements Prompts
Family Secrets Prompts
When A Character Is in a state of panic they…
Inner Conflict Prompts
Twist Prompts
Conflict Prompts
Signs of ….
Signs of Embarrassment
If You’re Writing a…
How to Create a Villain
If You’re Writing a Female Character, Avoid these Bad Writing Mistakes
Emotionally reserved characters
If you’re writing a character who is Naive
Writing Love
How to Write a Confession of Love
forbidden love prompts
When A Character Is in love they…
Signs of Falling in Love
Gestures for Expressing Love
Love Triangle Gestures
Writers Block
Ideas to Get Rid of Writer's Block Inspo
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dellerose · 12 days ago
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"oh so it's like canon?" "why won't toby fox make them canon" the important thing you gotta know is toby fox never points to two characters and goes "they dated/they're dating" ever. he usually avoids questions about how he writes queer rep but it seems to be the overall attitude that if he needs to explicitly state the relationship between two characters, then he has failed as a writer to properly convey their dynamic with extra implications and all.
like... legit the only times a thing is blatantly obviously canon is though the characters, through what the CHARACTERS want to say about the other. like alphys and undyne are implied to be into each other but toby fox never said they're a couple, the game did, when alphys confessed her love and they got together at the very end of the story. and it seems everyone else takes this approach, whether the relationship is queer or not. sans "befriending" toriel and the rest is left up to interpretation. suselle with noelle being so flustered and into susie but never needing to go "I'm in love with her" cause we know cause it's just so well written. the implications of asgore giving rudy who's in an unhappy marriage boquets of flowers (berdly even comments on this if you land him in the hospital dismissing it as a "bro" thing to poke fun at how homoeroticism is dismissed as platonic friendship between men). tenna calling spamton his "old partner" (not business partner! JUST PARTNER. A REALLY LOADED WORD). and a bunch more scattered moments here and there for other things like krerdly and krusie and kriselle and so on.
because he's just a writer who takes the approach that if he needs to tell you, he hasn't done a good enough job showing you, and I just really appreciate that. it's really refreshing even 10 years later to throw yourself into writing such deep relationships that still trust readers to figure it out and know what's going on and leave wiggle room for interpretation and yet are so obvious in what they are, so blatantly and without shame or doubt, that everyone realizes what it is. and it's pretty admirable cause it makes these characters more real. nobody really goes around casually saying they're in love with someone, it's a build up, or it might be more complicated, or so on, but they show it in every other way that toby fox manages to capture with careful words.
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mediocre-writing · 5 months ago
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Fic recs Yoongi
Some fics I read this week, and I need to make people read them too lol I'll probably do it with the other members too.
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Interlude | MYG | Series Masterlist @yoongiofmine (Idol!Yoongi X Deaf!Reader)
Summary: All Yoongi wanted was to use the last few months before enlisting to work on his solo projects, prepare for his tour. When the silence left around him as his members started to go one by one got too loud, he needed to find something else to fill in the void. But Yoongi would never have guessed that it would come in the form of you… Someone he would never expect to fall in love with.
– This is simply the most beautiful Yoongi series I've ever read.
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The Consequences of Fucking Up @borathae
“Your break up was messy and painful. All you want to do is to forget about him. His friends, who ever since you ended it with Yoongi see you as their bullying target, make sure that the memory of him stays fresh in your mind however, haunting you day by fucking day. While Yoongi makes it seem as if he gives no fuck about your situation. Until one night he is in front of your door. Drunk and fucking regretful.”
– You won't regret reading it, trust me.
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his entire world | min yoongi x f!reader | a serendipitous life series @serendipitous-seven
summary: you and yoongi are trying to enjoy your friends' wedding with a very fussy baby
– THIS WAS ONE OF THE SOFTEST THINGS I'VE EVER READ 😭💞
——
F*ck Tradition | Yoongi @dancinglikebutterflywings ( Min Yoongi x Fiancee!Reader)
- Synopsis: Y/N takes Yoongi with her to go wedding dress shopping because her fiancées opinion is the only one that matters.
– I feel like this story and this writer deserves much more recognition, MY GOD IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL.
you're okay | myg (m) @taegularities
Summary: Let it hurt and burn. Let it out; and then let it fade away. Let it heal. Yoongi can't lift all your burdens, but he has taught you at least this much over the years.
– This here comforted my heart in a way 😭😭💞💞
ex-things - m.yg. @namfinessed
summary: over the years, everything you've owned has belonged to yoongi and everything yoongi's owned has belonged to you but when you break up, everything is your's and everything is his but none of it belongs to the two of you anymore and both of you can't stand it.
– That was adorable and made me smile like a fool.
impression | yg @namjoonchronicles
↳ summary many forgot that when you marry someone, you marry their family too, at least that’s how Asian family is like
– This is so cute, I love the husband!Yoongi
The Final - Day 02 | MYG | ONESHOT @yoongiofmine
Summary: You've been Yoongi's go-to companion for the past few years, well aware that's all you were going to be. Despite your very real, growing feelings for the rapper, you took what you could get every time. Now, you're backstage at day two of the final leg of his tour when another member takes an interest in you. Will it be enough to make Yoongi realize he's got competition?
– it made me wild and crazy
dissertation | yg @namjoonchronicles
↳ summary many people doubted your union, how exactly an artist with as much influence as yoongi be a husband to a wife that is still studying. 
– Yoon being the person we all need, This writer is wonderful, please give him a chance. (I'm telling you this writer is amazing)
Shy - Yoongi X Reader @7ndipity
Summary: You’re desperately craving your boyfriend's attention, but are too shy to ask for it outright. Luckily, Yoongi knows what you want anyway.
– This is something cute and warm.
YES, I WILL DO MORE BECAUSE WE HAVE MANY TALENTED WRITERS.
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brucedefender4eva · 4 months ago
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As much as I love when fanfics give a character who has been traumatized in their media (but their writers don’t ever show them affected by the horrors) having realistic reactions to what happened to them (anxiety attacks, PTSD, trust issues, etc)
Their family helps them through their problems and the issues that they’ve gained from it. Showing them that it’s okay to be vulnerable and they’ll always be there for them
I also equally love the opposite. Instead of a character being affected by the horrors, they’re just… completely fine
Everyone else around them is freaking out and expecting a meltdown of some kind, completely ready to support them in any way possible, but it never comes
It’s just another fucking day. No panic attacks, no flash backs, nada. Family thinks that they’re hiding it from them when in reality the person affected is confused on why everyone is hovering around them
The batfam is waiting for the other shoes to drop with Bruce constantly. You’d think that after this man became a short term paraplegic from Bane breaking his back that Bruce would be wary about facing the man again
Maybe even refuse to do so?
They get an alert on the Batcomputer and Bane is causing havoc in the city. He’s pumped up on Venom and destroying everything in his way.
They’re glancing at each other like “Oh shit. What the fuck do we do? Do we wanna put Bruce through all that again?”
And Bruce is just… suiting up. Doesn’t fucking phase him in the slightest. He’s fought Bane a million times before and he’ll do it a million times again. He just really wants to punch someone with all his might, knowing they won’t die from it
His kids are exchanging nervous glances as Bruce maps out a plan and as they’re leaving Alfred hands them small med kits to keep with them
“Master Bruce, please be careful.” Alfred says through his coms as he’s jumping from building to building, his voice unusually tinged with worry. Alfred only ever comes on coms and tells him to be careful when the villain that he’s facing is of considerable risk to himself or his children
Bruce is fucking confused. Why would he need to be more careful than he already is? He’s Batman
“It’s just Bane, agent A.”
“B… he broke your back…” Oracle chimes in quietly
“Right, he did do that didn’t he? I forgot that happened.”
“?” The boys look at each other in confusion. Did their Dad really just say that
“You forgot?” Cass asked, her voice incredulous
“Not that big of a deal.” Bruce shrugged, glancing over in confusion as all of his kids stopped, instead turning to face him
“Dad… are you serious?” Tim asked, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline
“As I’ve stated, not a big deal.” Bruce doesn’t know why they seem to be making a huge deal out of this. It’s been years. It’s not like anyone brought it up
“Bruce, you don’t have to be strong in front of us.” Dick whispered softly, placing a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. Even with the mask Bruce could tell his eldest was looking at him with those deep soulful eyes he has whenever he’s trying to comfort someone.
“I’m not??” Bruce said, looking around to see his kids doubtful faces. “Seriously I’m not. It happened and I got over it.”
“You don’t just get over being paralyzed Bruce.” Barbra’s said soothingly, using the same voice she does when she tries to calm down terrified children.
“Seriously old man, we’ve all been through some shit. If you wanna sit this one out, we understand.” Jason said, in a rare moment of kindness toward Bruce.
Unfortunately, it was completely unneeded and just made Bruce even more annoyed.
“Oh I get it. This is a rouse. You all want to get out from patrol tonight.” Bruce said, figuring out what all the concern was about (he didn’t figure out shit). “If it wasn’t a school night I would’ve just brought Robin.” Bruce mumbled under his breath.
As Bruce grappled away to another building, still intent on hunting down Bane and taking him back to Arkham, all his kids could do was stare after him in disbelief.
“He seriously doesn’t care…” Steph chuckled softly, shaking her head in astonishment. “Bruce is so fucking weird.”
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soda543xd · 4 months ago
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im kinda catastrophizing over here :,)
i REALLY HOPE that alan and his team dont fuck this up. despite me being too young to do anything legally, my family is very prone to addiction (im not allowed to interact with my mums side because theyre alcoholics) so i have been around the looming threat of addiction my whole life
blue is more on the serious side of CG, yes their netherwart addiction is played for laughs, but it sets season 3 into motion. blue has been shown to go out of their way to get it, even putting themself or even their friends in danger
another good example of alans team tackling dark topics is purple of all characters. they had a traumatic upbringing, their dad was physically and presumably verbally abusive, leaving purple and their mum at a crucial moment. they had to flee from an active war zone and their dad didnt even look at them. i cant watch episode 29 or listen to 'Note Block Universe' without tearing up or straight crying thats how powerful it is to me
if they do a similar thing with blue then i think itll hit the sweet spot youre talking about. my hope is that the community will still play it for laughs but be sensitive about it
one thing that concerns me though is, although alan hasnt confirmed anything, CG are intended to be teens. like, children. unless he straight confirms CG to be adults which i would be a little confused about but itd make sense in this context, hes basically saying that a teenager being addicted to drugs is funny. yikes
fingers crossed that the video isnt a gag or a skit but also isnt one of those "drugs are bad" videos your P.E teacher shows you in grade 7
Animation Vs Addiction: how this could go REALLY well, or REALLY horribly
a ramble on the upcoming episode
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PLEASE NOTE: i am not an expert on addictions, nor storytelling or writing, these are just my thoughts! you are free to your own opinion, take what you want, leave what you don't. also note, im writing this at midnight, excuse any typos or anything of the like.
so, to put it bluntly, i feel as if everyone is worried for how this episode is going to go, and that concern is rightfully valid !! topics like this, if not handled with the care they ensue, can go really horribly, and considering a majority of Alan's youtube fanbase is primarily children, this could leave either a positive or bad impression to them.
with things like these, there's the fine balance of "informative" and entertainment. arguably, steering too much one way or another could result in this not doing too well, in terms of the takeaway. id even like to argue that this steering too much towards informative could even be bad. lets start with that first.
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WHY IS LEANING MORE ONE WAY THAN THE OTHER BAD?:
TOO ENTERTAINING: this one is the more "obvious" of how this could be bad, if the video is more in favor of being entertaining, the main takeaway wont be anything actually sustainable, blue's addiction will continue to be a running gag, and the younger audience will see it as a silly thing. this is one of the worst case scenarios
TOO IMFORMATIVE: now, you may be wondering, "why is being too informative bad ??", and it all boils down to what the audience's takeaway will be, after the video. being informative ISNT bad, but with how alan's channel is set up thus far, with storytelling animations, if its, lets say just facts on a screen, the information will be useful !! but you'll leave the video just thinking "wow, i just know facts". you won't leave with anything to make you think, or any actual connection, because the information was handed to you on a silver platter, you wont reflect on an actual story of why addiction is bad, to give you that perspective to think about. you'd just have the top 10 reasons you see when you google "why is addiction harmful??" our brains learn by doing, and experiences, even others, even in storytelling, make you empathize and connect with the character, and arguably, can be more effective than being told facts straight up. this is a reason why myths and fairytales exist, to teach a lesson without spoon feeding it.
SO, IF TOO ENTERTAINING, AND TOO INFORMATIVE IS BAD, WHATS THE BALANCE ??:
like i mentioned near the end of "too informative", the animation, for it to work well, needs to give a perspective, not facts
perspective will make the audience THINK, therefore learn, "oh, THIS is bad", showing rather than telling will help the audience make their own conclusions instead of spoon feeding it to them, which is what most of alan's channel has done with storytelling anyways.
arguably, green's influencer arc can be a decent example of this
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it didn't tell you, "be careful of social media addiction" rather it showed the slow progression of green, being influenced, and how it slowly tore him apart from his friends and eventually started messing with his own wellbeing and how he ended up isolating himself, in order to prioritize content
i wouldn't say it perfectly fits the balance between informative & educational, as of how it ended with the third episode, but it definitely struck close in my opinion, at least for the second episode.
and thus, your takeaway from that is, "wow, that sucks for green, this is because he got addicted to social media !!" rather than just being told that. you got to learn alongside green as to the actual effects that can have.
ASIDE FROM THAT, WHAT ARE OTHER CONCERNS ABOUT HOW THIS COULD BE HANDLED ??
my other main concern is how its been treated in the past with the jokes, and how that might affect this upcoming video. can they turn around and turn it into a serious thing? absolutely that's possible, and there's no telling that netherwarts will even be involved in this video, it could be something entirely different, as this community post explains, blue is arguably prone to addiction in other ways than just netherwart, so it wouldn't be completely unordinary if it wasn't involved here.
HOWEVER, in my personal opinion, netherwarts or not, i do feel like however this video may go, if it resolves with blue overcoming addiction (as it most likely will), i do have the concern that blue would have this arc, and then the channel would go right back to including the netherwart addiction gag as a joke, as if the video didn't happen. does this mean i think blue shouldn't touch netherwarts after this? no, but i do feel as if there should be SOME difference in their intake of them after this, or else its just an arc for blue's character, that repeats as if it didn't happen, just for gags.
SO, HOW COULD THIS GO WELL, AFTER EXPLAINING ALL THE "WHAT-IFS" ??
if done right, this video could go well, and spread awareness, alongside expanding on blue's character. i think its great that Alan and his team are willing to tackle topics like this, and they have shown that they're able to do so, similar to green's influencer arc. i am hesitant on how it will be handled, but not in a way as to where i doubt the team's ability to portray this, moreso just due to how delicate a topic like this can be
but, overall, if they balance entertainment & education, and really implement this into blue's character instead of returning to a full force gag afterwards, i feel like it could be a good video :)) once again, these are my thoughts, my opinions, your free to your own & free to disagree with my points and ideas take what you want from this, leave what you dont !! :))
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nereidprinc3ss · 9 months ago
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do you believe me now? | 8
it's the morning after. spencer reid suspects you’re left with some doubts after losing your virginity to him. he has to figure out why—which is hard when you're keeping secrets.
series masterlist
this series is 18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, blood related to losing virginity (dramatized for the drama duh), super vague allusions to the BAU being hungover, mild blasphemy if anyone even cares, pondering god bc am I really a fanfic writer if I don’t get a little religious w it, emily AND hotch are here and nobody knows why pls don't pay attention to that bc we are imagining like season 11/12 spencer and I'm inconsistent w who is unit chief in this series apparently, spencer slut lore, spencer emotional wounds lore, Spencer is a traumatic situationship survivor a/n: DADDYS HOMEEEEE (me and dybmn not spencer) anyway missed these little guys and am happy to be writing for them again!! idk what my upload schedule will becoming back to this but pls lmk what u think of this part, I have no idea how you will respond but I'm being brave and ily
Friday morning Spencer comes into the office fifteen minutes late (he tried his best), in yesterday’s suit (everything in his go-bag had been too wrinkled), hair messy (no doubt from your fingers), coffee cold (he’s exhausted) and overall, in an excellent mood.
The rest of the team isn’t faring quite as well—Spencer gathers they stayed at the bar celebrating Derek’s birthday a lot later than he had. It shows through sallow skin and dark circles and the grimaces he receives on the way to his desk that are probably supposed to approximate good morning’s. 
Honestly, he doesn’t mind the dull mood—he doesn’t need the teasing and the prying questions that would be sure to come if his co-workers were at peak performance and were able to put together his unusually perky demeanor and disheveled appearance. At least Prentiss doesn’t appear to be paying him any mind. She’s always the one who can read him like an open book and has no shame in doing so aloud. Echoes from years of, ‘so who was the lucky girl, last night, Reid?’ Still ring through his mind and it’s like he can feel her finger prodding at his side. 
The Emily of it all makes him smile, though the rest of the memory leaves a metal tang in his mouth. Back in those days, there were sometimes a lot of girls, but even then he was consciously aware he wasn’t necessarily doing something he enjoyed. He spent a lot of time, actually, staring at his bedroom ceiling, psychoanalyzing himself. Repetition compulsion. The insatiable desire to repeat or reenact emotionally painful experiences. Maybe he thought if he could teach himself to subsist off of emotionless hookups, he could in some way heal from his experience with Elle. Though, he’s hesitant to think of it now as healing—it’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing when a few nights after she said I don’t feel the same I’m sorry he opened up his front door for her. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing every time after that. So, maybe heal isn’t the right word, when one doesn’t have the right to be injured. Or when the injuries are, in a manner of speaking, self-inflicted. At the very least he could tell himself that this time around, meaningless sex was a choice he was making for himself. Spencer hates when things just happen to him. 
But you—you’re different. You were a complete surprise. At first, a cute and unexpected complication. After a few painful and short-lived attempts at real relationships, Spencer decided he was simply not to be trusted with emotional intimacy of any kind, including that which inevitably develops from physical intimacy, and would resign himself to a life of celibacy. He tried not to like you, but you were just so damn likable. Magnetic, to use a trite and perfectly honest turn of phrase. All that to say: he doesn’t regret you at all. There is no filter of putrid shame or anguish over his memories of last night. 
Just you. Perfect. Starlit. Glowing softly around the edges like you’re not even real. 
I love you I love you I love you. A hymn with no melody. You, always reminding him exactly why he is decidedly not a man of faith. At least, not in the typical sense of the word. 
How God became the idol and not Mary is lost on him. That’s why, Spencer supposes, tapping an eraser on his desk, marriage and sex were forbidden for so many ecclesiastics. After all, if they knew what it was to love a woman, specifically to love you, he doubts they’d feel like spending much time in the pulpit. Love. Humans had that long before they had any gods. It’s primeval. It’s the most natural manifestation of devotion and worship. It will always have come first. Isn’t it a better kind of religion when a man realizes he can kneel in front of a woman rather than an altar?
A heavy hand falling on his shoulder jolts him from his theological musings—which are in all practicality useless. What’s that saying about blasphemous thinking on the FBI’s dime? Right. There isn’t one. 
“I’m scared to ask,” Morgan says as Spencer jumps slightly in his chair. 
“What?” He mumbles, looking up from the document he’d only sort of been reading.
Morgan just looks at him, strong brows furrowed and a ditch between them, angles his head and glances to the side as if Spencer is missing the obvious. He almost follows Derek’s eye-line. When that doesn’t work, Derek just says your name. Like your status is somehow in question. 
“Did you two work things out, or not? It looked pretty bad when you guys were leaving last night.”
People often misunderstand an eidetic memory. It’s not like things can’t slip his mind—Spencer can actually be quite forgetful. It’s made worse by the fact that last night at the bar feels like months ago. For a moment, he has no idea what Derek is referring to. 
“Oh. Oh! Right, we—right. Yeah, we, uh—we worked it out.” Before Derek has a chance to read his face, no doubt as incriminating as his fumbled speech and an ill-timed throat clearing, he turns back to his paperwork. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her at the bar. I appreciate that.”
It’s quiet for a moment, and Spencer’s lips twist as he can feel the incoming inappropriate comment. 
“Is that the same suit you were wearing last night?” Morgan quips, his wide grin audible. Spencer can practically hear the cartoon gleam of his friend’s bleached teeth. 
“No.”
“You dog.” Derek is still smiling as he claps Spencer’s shoulder again. “What did you say to her that worked so well?”
Spencer clears his throat again and tries to look extremely involved in logging onto his computer, speaking quickly as if he’s beyond disinterested and can’t wait for the exchange to be over. 
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m actually trying to work so if you wouldn’t mind going back to your desk that would be great.” 
“Uh-huh. I’ll let you work. But I see you, pretty boy.”
Spencer tries not to blush like a teenager as he refuses to look up. 
Naturally the rest of the day is a slow descent into dread and madness as all those good feelings with which Spencer had started his morning begin to harden into something much worse, chilled by your lack of response to the text he sent you earlier. Which was essentially a rehashing of the note he left on your bedside table. 
Maybe it was too much. It should’ve been one or the other, but not both. He’s overwhelmed you. 
Okay, so maybe this is what religion is for. A last ditch effort when you can’t talk to your girlfriend so you have to try talking to God. 
But Spencer knows you, and he knows something is wrong. You wouldn’t just ice him out so blatantly if everything was okay. He catches himself glancing up toward Hotch’s window to see if the blinds are drawn, and considers faking an illness to get out of work early and go check on you. But he powers through the remaining hour and a half that he is obligated to stay at work, he bounces a pencil between his fingers, drums at his desk, and gets nothing else done. As soon as 4:59 rolls around, he’s out. 
Spencer can hear shuffling on the other side of your door as he stands in the hallway. A pot clatters. The walls hum with the rush of water through the pipes to your sink. He knocks, relieved that you’re okay and at the same time struggling with that weight on his chest—something cold that leans over his shoulders and whispers into his ear—so she just didn’t want to talk to you. 
Suddenly all sound from inside your unit ceases. For a few long seconds, Spencer’s confusion only grows exponentially. 
“Who is it?” You finally call, voice wavering. Also odd. Usually you just open the door. 
“Um… Spencer?”
“As in my boyfriend Spencer?”
He frowns, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he tries to decipher your sudden paranoia. “I hope so?”
The click and jingle of several locks precipitates your much-anticipated reveal. 
“Come in,” you say breathlessly, more harried than usual and not giving him the tender greeting he’s selfishly become accustomed to—barely even giving him a second to look at you. But he steps inside, watching on in concern as you do up every single lock—the one on the knob, the deadbolt, even the chain. Is this really all because of his little comment last night about anyone being able to get in? He certainly hopes not. He didn’t mean to terrify you. 
When you finally turn, he takes stock of your appearance. Big hoodie, pajama pants patterned in little hearts. Hair pulled back hastily. Your skin is sort of dull where you normally glow. But you’re beautiful, like always. It always aches just a little bit to look at you. Spencer’s always been like that. Going breathless at a particularly good piece of art or pretty girl. Like yourself. Mostly you. 
You quickly turn to hurry back into the kitchen. “I was trying to make dinner, I—”
“Hold on,” he interrupts, stopping you with a hand on your stomach that is so non-demanding it’s really mostly a suggestion. He tries to clear his head, though you make it hard. “You didn’t talk to me all day. Not that you have to, but… I was worried.”
You glance at the floor and mumble, “I lost my phone,” with so much embarrassment he believes you’re telling the truth. “Did you, um—did you text me?”
Insecurity. Spencer knows well what it looks like on you. He softens. You weren’t ignoring him—but you’d been left in a vulnerable state without any ability to contact him or anyone. That couldn’t have been comfortable. 
“Of course I did.” He pauses to observe you. Still anxious. Still prepared to run at any second. Something, and he’s not sure what, did a number on you today. Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the anxiety of not having your phone. But he has to figure out what it is so he can undo it. “What? What’s wrong?”
He watches your breathing pause—watches your eyes gloss over with tears and a frown contort your features. Oh, god. He’s done something terribly wrong. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s done something wrong. 
“Can we sit down? I don’t feel very good.”
“Yeah. Yeah, we can. Whatever you need.”
You cast a baleful look at him and now he has to wonder what that means. Spencer sets his bag on a pulled out dining chair and follows you to the couch where you settle on opposite sides—you’re curled up in the far corner, hugging a pillow to your chest with your legs folded in front of you. Spencer’s heart is beating fast. He doesn’t know what’s going on with you and he can’t figure it out just by looking and you don’t seem eager to tell him. 
He’s exhausted all his typical ways of collecting information, and now he’s at a loss. 
Eventually, the anxiety comes bubbling up. 
“Please talk to me,” he pleads. And you do. Almost instantly, like he stepped on some sort of landmine. 
“I know it’s my own fault for not having my phone on me and not being able to see your texts, but it really sucks that I had to find out from my creepy neighbor that you snuck out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.”
The whiplash is so strong it’s almost a broken neck. Spencer reels, frowning deeply as he tries to process your impromptu speech, the sudden confrontation. What creepy neighbor?
“I… didn’t. I went to grab my stuff from the car around one, but I came right back. I left at 7:30. You don’t remember me saying goodbye?”
Your brow furrows, and your eyes dart over the design on the rug like you’re watching memories go by. He sees it in your eyes when you recall some hazy image of him holding your face, kissing your cheek more times than was necessary and whispering sweet things against your lips before he had to go. You shrink into the couch, clearly struggling under the combined weight of relief and embarrassment. 
“I forgot. I thought… he said…”
A moment passes and it’s clear you’ve abandoned the sentence. Spencer is concerned about this shadowy male figure who put malicious untruths into your head. He slides his hand under yours and twines your fingers together. Finally, finally you meet his gaze. 
“Someone made you believe I left without saying goodbye.”
And he almost wishes you weren’t looking at him as more tears pool before falling down your cheeks. You nod, and don’t make a sound. 
“No, honey. I didn’t do that. I’m sorry that’s what you’ve been thinking all day.”
“I was worried that you… or that I wasn’t…”
His chest aches. You’d woken up alone, no recollection of his goodbye, and without the comfort of even a text. 
“You didn’t see my note?”
The way you look at him then is heartbreaking. Eyes wide and wet and sad, lip trembling. 
“You left a note?”
Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will. 
It must’ve fallen off the bedside table, or maybe he just hadn’t positioned it obviously enough. 
A lost phone, a missed note, and not even a memory of his departure. While none of these things are verifiably Spencer’s fault, he feels so, so guilty. 
“I did,” Spencer says gently, scooting closer and pulling you into him, head pressed to his shoulder as you try not to cry, and he rubs your back slowly. 
Your sulky words are muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t see it. What did it say?”
“A lot of very nice things about you,” he whispers. Spencer thought maybe he could get away with giving you all the sincere compliments you can’t accept face to face through a note you could read while he wasn’t around. That way you couldn’t refute them or stop him. It was a good plan. 
He feels the sigh of relief leaving your body against his neck. 
“I didn’t know.”
“I know. I’m sorry. That’s not… I should’ve just stayed. This is my fault.”
You keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder as you speak. 
“It’s not. You have a job. A really important job. You can’t just call out whenever I want you around.”
Logically he knows you’re right, but he doesn’t always think logically around you. 
“I could’ve made it work. I could’ve come in late, or the team could’ve called me if there was a case, which there wasn’t—”
“Spencer, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”
He pulls back slightly, frowning at your tone. You do look relieved, much less plagued than you’d been when he arrived minutes ago, but something heavy still weighs you down. The burden of it darkens your eyes and dulls your expression. When he cups your cheek, you glance up at him, and then away once more. 
He speaks softly. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?” 
Again he earns a moment of your eye contact, but it’s fleeting. He watches the words spin around your head as you try to figure out what to do with them—and then choose to remain silent. 
There is in fact something you’re keeping from him. 
Spencer hates to use work tactics on you, but he doesn’t speak either, hoping that you’ll feel compelled to fill the silence with the truth. Knowing how you’re not entirely comfortable with quiet. 
And you try, lips parting and the sound delayed as you wrestle with something you clearly don’t know how to talk about. 
“I… my neighbor,” you say, frowning like you don’t quite know why you’re speaking. “The one who told me he saw you leaving in the middle of the night. He also—he said…”
Spencer brushes hair away from your cheek with a thumb, stroking the high point in gentle passes as your words taper off. Now that he’s thinking about it, he did encounter a man in a dumpy robe standing in the courtyard and smoking a cigarette when he left you tangled in sheets and dozing contentedly to get his bag from the car. In fact, they rode back up to your floor in the elevator in mostly awkward silence. Spencer was sure his outfit told a story—shirt untucked and hastily buttoned only partway, no belt, shoes barely tied, duffel slung over his shoulder—he wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone at such an hour, to be honest, but he hadn’t particularly cared what this man thought of him, so it didn’t cross his mind again.
Now he remembers. 
Long night, huh? I remember those days. 
It was an inappropriate comment, but given his job he’s used to ignoring those. Mostly his mind had been preoccupied with the idea of returning to you, who gave him such a warm and sleepy welcome when he climbed carefully back into your arms several minutes later that it was like he’d never known anyone else at all. 
Now he resents that he hadn’t said anything, he hates the idea that you spoke to this man and he said something to upset you and Spencer wasn’t there. Usually he tries not a judge a book by its cover (metaphorically, of course) but he’s been around enough bad men to know when he’s looking at one. Last night he hadn’t even been cognizant enough to realize they got off on the same floor. 
“What did he say, angel?” Spencer whispers, incapable of being anything but soft with you at the moment. Even though he senses something a lot like a tide of preemptive anger rising in his chest, painted over with layers of anxiety and guilt. He should’ve found a way to stay with you this morning. 
You sniffle and let your head fall again, forehead resting against his collar. Instinctively his hand slides to the back of your neck and even at the awkward angle he finds a way to press his lips to yours hair. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t feel good.”
If it’s making you this uncomfortable, Spencer really wants to know what passed between you and this neighbor. In fact, he’d be willing to bet a lot of your strange behavior this evening stems from something that occurred which you don’t feel comfortable telling him yet. But he manages to bite back anymore questions. He doesn’t want to make you feel interrogated. 
“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he says eventually, kindly, hand tracing down the length of your back and up again. “Why don’t you feel good?”
He doesn’t miss the way you reach up to discreetly wipe your cheek. But he won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about until you’re ready, and it seems like you’re already having a rough day. Which is not what he wanted. This is so far from what he wanted for you. He’s cursing himself for how he handled this whole situation. 
“Um, I just… I don’t know. I feel… bad. I’m sorry I’m being so weird.”
“You’re not being weird, honey. You had a hard day. You’re having a normal reaction to an abnormal set of circumstances.”
You sit up, sniffing and wiping your tears like you can just make the whole thing go away. 
“No, I am. I am. It’s all okay now, right? So I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
He watches helplessly. “Nothing is wrong with you. We’ve… it’s been a big couple of days. Mostly good, but I think you’re probably really tired. Emotionally and physically.” 
You bury your face in your hands and nod silently. He still feels like he’s shooting in the dark, but you’re not entirely comforted yet, and it’s killing him. 
“Whatever you’re feeling is okay. If this is… about last night, or this morning, or something entirely different—regardless of what it’s about, you’re not going to be… in trouble with me if you’re having complicated feelings. And you can talk to me. But it doesn’t have to be right now. We don’t have to figure it out all at once, okay?”
You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, and for a moment, his words sink into silence. When you do raise your head, nodding, the evidence of your discomfort is all over your face—reddened eyes, cheeks polished with wiped tears. But you take a deep breath and try to project whatever it is you think he wants to see. 
The back of your hand is soft under his thumb as he sweeps it, as if he could draw forth more information that way. People speak when they’re ready.
“Is there anything I can do?” He tries, all ramped brow and soft spoken. 
You’re looking at where he’s tracing swirls on your hand as you swallow and blink the last of your tears away. 
“Um… you can say no, but—do you think it would be okay for you to maybe stay again tonight?”
Spencer sucks in a breath, painfully aware that he’s about to let you down. 
“I… I haven’t been home in a week. I’ve been wearing this suit for two days straight and I don’t think I would want to share a bed with me again until I shower.” He watches you wilt and lifts a hand to stroke your hair. “But I do want to spend time with you… do you maybe want to come stay with me instead? No pressure—”
“Okay. Yes. Is that okay?”
Spencer’s brow knits. You seem even more enthused about the idea of going to his apartment, like now that the opportunity has presented itself you can’t wait to get out. Maybe you have some sort of black mold problem. 
“Of course. Do you wanna grab a few things and then we can go?”
“Um—I also haven’t showered today. Do you mind waiting?”
“Sure. Or you could use mine. With supervision, this time.”
Spencer is attempting to make a joke about your unplanned (and unmoderated) stay at his apartment last week after he left—but looking at your face now he’s wondering if he touched a nerve. 
“Like… one at a time? Or…”
He thought maybe you’d be more comfortable around him after last night—and it’s not like he hadn’t seen you naked before then, either.
“Do you wanna do it one at a time?” He asks gently. 
There’s this sparkly sort of longing in your eyes that he’s seen before, but you tamp it down like always. You’re so cautious. About everything. Even the things you’re curious about. It’s sweet and a little sad. 
“I’ve never… showered with anyone.”
The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitches as he pushes hair over your shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to. We could save like 100 gallons of water depending on how long your showers typically last, but—”
“Spencer—”
“Sorry, sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to pressure you. You absolutely can take your own shower. You can go first so you get the hot water.”
“No,” you laugh, and it’s like a sparkling cloud of gold has settled around you, fractals bouncing off the shine of your cheeks and eyes—the sound of your laughter, the look of it, is such beautiful relief he can’t believe how good it feels, but it fades from you quickly. “It sounds… I think I want to, I just… I don’t wanna, like… do… anything.”
For a split second your veiled language mystifies him and then he realizes what you’re trying to say without saying. Something has changed since yesterday, when you brazenly referred to it as fucking, and today, when you can’t even say sex. He’s gotten as far as it being something your creepy neighbor said. Maybe. He needs to know what. 
But that’s not the topic at hand. 
“We don’t have to. I didn’t mean to imply that we would do anything like that. I don’t expect anything from you.”
You swallow. 
“Okay. I wasn’t sure.”
About what?
He says your name. No response. 
“Can you look at me, please?”
It takes you a moment, and your head raises like you might need some oil in your hinges, but eventually you manage. Spencer hopes the way he’s rubbing your leg is comforting. 
“You know I’m never, ever going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?”
To his horror, your answer isn’t an immediate and resounding yes. Instead you look back down and cover his hand with your own, fiddling nervously with his fingers. 
Eventually, you reply, “Yeah… I know. I just thought… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s supposed to be different now.”
“It doesn’t have to be. Nothing has to be different. We’re still doing everything on your schedule, okay? And as for the next few days, at least—I think it might be a good idea to take sex off the table altogether.”
Your eyes narrow and you hesitate. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want you worrying about it. And I don’t think it would feel good for you right now. I think there are things we need to talk about, but… we’ve probably tried enough for a while, hm?”
You give him a shy nod and hum your agreement. For a moment he lets his hand linger on your leg and then pulls it back. 
“Okay. Do you want my help packing a bag, or should I wait out here?”
“You can wait. It should only take a minute.” You pause, halfway up to look pensive. “Um, Spencer—do you think it would be okay if maybe I… if I stayed tonight and tomorrow? I just—I wanna get out of here, for a bit.”
He frowns but doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Can I ask why?”
“It’s just… suffocating sometimes,” you call as you turn and hurry down the hallway to the bedroom. “Feels like my neighbors are on top of me, like they’re… breathing down my neck, half the time.”
Sure, bigger apartments exist—but it’s not like you’re in a studio. And you’ve never mentioned feeling that way before. That bad feeling is starting to come back—like you’re not telling him something he needs to know. But is it worse to let you deal with it yourself until you’re ready to talk or to force it from you?
A few minutes later you return, a duffel of your own over your shoulder and full to bursting. 
“So I’m an idiot. My phone was literally in the pocket of my jeans on the floor.” You drop the bag as you bend down by the door to pull on your favorite slippers. “Oh—I think I forgot my charger, can you grab it? It’s by my bed.”
Spencer of course obliges, and is secretly pleased to be in your room again, in the light this time, so he can see better. It’s sweet. The pictures on the walls, the plants and the knickknacks and the sticky notes scrawled with messy reminders on every surface and the sweater hanging over the back of a chair—the one you’d been wearing at the cafe all those months ago—it all feels so you. He wonders why the two of you don’t spend more time here. 
He lets himself linger for only a minute before remembering his task, but as he reaches down to unplug your charger, whatever dopey smile he’d been wearing evaporates. The sheets have been stripped from your bed, and he can see why—there’s a striking stain of dried blood, and several surrounding dots, soaked into the mattress. Not much, but enough to make him feel horrendously guilty. He cringes, imagining what it must’ve been like to wake up all alone to nothing but your own blood. Poor girl. Of course he’d noticed some, last night when he was doing his best at cleaning you up, but it had been dark, and he was exhausted, and he hadn’t done enough. 
“Where’d your sheets go, baby?” He asks once back by the front door with his own bag on his shoulder, setting a gentle hand on your lower back and holding out your charger for you. You jump slightly, and he makes circles on your back, wishing there was something he could do to settle you. 
“Oh! They—they got ruined. I threw them out. It’s fine. I have others.”
So you didn’t have enough energy this morning to walk a few feet to your shower, but stripping your bed, getting dressed, and walking down to the trash chute at the end of the hall had been top of your priority list. 
You swallow as he undoes the locks and holds the door open for you, and pretend like you’re not doing surveillance to either side as you stand in the hallway, locking your door again like you can’t get out of here fast enough. 
Spencer casts a sidelong glance at you and wonders if you’re intentionally avoiding eye contact. He tries not to think like a profiler. He tries not to assign meaning to your actions, but he can’t help it. He can’t not notice. 
He can’t not worry. 
And he can’t not wonder what you’re not telling him. 
-
part nine
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hard-core-super-star · 13 days ago
Text
keep it confidential, you make me feel special [W.Maximoff + K.Bishop]
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pairing: domme!wanda maximoff x sub!reader x kate bishop
summary: wanda's the infamous editor in chief of a prestigious magazine, you're her executive editor and kate's your newest, annoying, assistant. what could possibly happen when she stumbles into wanda's office at the wrong time and finds out you two are more than co-workers? nothing good.
warnings: SMUT, MINORS GO AWAY! -> established dom/sub dynamics; office sex; power play; fingering; grinding; finger sucking because my hand slipped; praise kink go brr; mommy kink go brr; slight voyeurism [kate is a bit of a perv and a peeping tom]; technically triple [legal] age gap?; someone needs to notify HR lmao; R goes from not wanting kate around to wanting to top her which is valid, i think; no threesome yet tho
wordcount: 2.6k
a/n: HI! i rewatched the devil wears prada a few months ago and this random idea came to mind and i just could NOT stop myself from writing it. and trust me, i tried 😅 i have no idea if anyone will be into this AU but i wanted to explore R in a different role than usual. but because of who i am as a writer, that will come in part two which i hope will be up sometime next week. wanda x kate HAS to be the rarest rareship but oh well, my hand slipped. anyway, please let me know what you think and if you'd like to be added to the taglist. for now, hope you enjoy <3
* * * * * * *
Your steps are hurried as you make your way to Wanda's office, ignoring her assistant and her warning that the older woman is busy. You know damn well she's not busy, considering the not safe for work texts she'd just sent you.
Surprisingly, that's not what has you so hurried, though.
You push open her office door, straightening up as her gaze falls on you. "Do you need something?"
Instead of instantly replying, you shut the door behind you, making sure the windows are fully covered before standing in front of her desk. "Out of all the applicants, you chose the Bishop girl? I said I wanted an assistant, not a pet."
Even though she knows exactly what you're talking about, she still raises her eyebrow just to see you shrink into yourself. "Excuse me?"
You stand your ground as your stubbornness wins out over your fear of disappointing her. "Oh, come on, Wanda, there's no one around."
"That still doesn't mean you can forget your place," she replies, her no-nonsense tone taking a stand.
Instead of asking for forgiveness, you simply roll your eyes and cross the space between you. Wanda's hands land on your waist and she helps you up onto her desk before sliding her chair closer until she's between your spread legs.
"I'm serious, Wands," you try again. "Why her?"
"Because I said so," she responds, clearly teasing you. "And she was the best candidate."
"I seriously doubt that," you scoff. "What were her qualifications? Eating from a silver spoon all her life?"
"Behave. Why are you doubting me so much?"
Even though you're still a little annoyed, you force yourself to swallow said annoyances briefly. The last thing you need is to get into an unnecessary argument and earn yourself the silent treatment until tomorrow.
"It's not about doubting you," you reply with a sigh. "I just don't understand what your plan is."
The smirk on her face should tell you all you need to do, but you're far too distracted by her hands on your thighs to notice. "You don't need to understand, darling. You just need to trust me. I have no doubt the two of you will get along very well."
Her suggestive tone isn't lost on you, and yet you choose to ignore it. Maybe it's because of the trust you implicitly place in her or because her hands begin wandering, and she leans up to kiss you, and every thought in your head disappears.
Your argument is forgotten for the rest of the day (thanks to Wanda's skillful fingers) and you almost forget about Kate's existence.
Except, she shows up at the office, bright-eyed and smiley, two days later.
The mere sight of her makes you want to roll your eyes, but you force yourself to behave for Wanda. As much as you hated the solution, you were in dire need of an assistant and if the Bishop girl was your only option…well, you hated to admit it, but she was better than nothing.
Especially if having her around kept you from getting in trouble with your partner.
Despite your hesitations, the first few days were fine.
Kate was surprisingly good at listening when she wanted to be and her weird charm made her the best candidate for going out to fetch your lunch. Sure, it was a little juvenile to make her your errand girl, but what else was an assistant for? Your duties as editor-in-chief were overwhelming most days, thanks to how much of a perfectionist Wanda is, and an errand girl was exactly what you needed.
You hated it but…it turned out the Bishop girl wasn't the worst person for the job. Even you could admit that.
It certainly helped that she seemed to be quite…enthusiastic around you. You wrote it off as her being excited about finally having a job after being a trust fund baby all her life.
That became harder to do, though, when you saw the way she acted around Wanda.
The blush that stained her cheeks, the constant stammering only to ramble on about something completely unrelated to the topic at hand, the way she fidgeted with her hands when no one was looking. It was far more amusing than it should have been.
You were hardly the right person to judge considering the heart eyes you constantly threw Wanda, even at work. It wasn't like your relationship was forbidden, even if HR probably wouldn't be happy about it, but the two of you still preferred to keep things discreet. Not simply because of the nature of your relationship, even though that was a big part of it.
While your promotion to executive editor had come before getting romantically involved with Wanda, people still talked. She already faced so much adversity, you hardly needed to add fuel to the fire.
Maybe that's what made Kate's reactions so damn endearing. She was you if had allowed your real feelings to slip through the cracks all those months ago.
However, when you brought up your observations to Wanda, her reaction wasn't what you expected.
The two of you were in her office, far past 5 PM, sharing a bottle of wine and pretending like you were actually editing the newest batch of stories sent in by the writers for next month's issue. When the silence started lingering, you brought it up.
"I think Kate's got a crush on you," you say with a grin far too big for the topic at hand.
Wanda meets your eyes over the rim of her glass. "Me? Oh, darling, you're far too intelligent to be so oblivious."
Her words only serve to confuse you and you try to ignore the warmth in your cheeks as your head tilts to the side. "What are you talking about?"
She allows herself a laugh as she sets her glass down and pats her lap in invitation. You waste no time in following her wordless offer, the tension in your shoulders already starting to lessen. Her hands land on your waist and she pulls you in as close as physically possible.
Once you're settled on her lap, she speaks again, her eyes glancing behind you for a second. You assume it's her being overly vigilant as always so you pay no mind to it. "Darling, Kate is embarrassingly head over heels for you."
If her grip on you wasn't so tight, you would have squirmed away out of embarrassment. "What? That can't be true."
All she does is smile, her hands rubbing up and down your sides. You're not sure if she's trying to distract you or not, but your thoughts get scattered all the same. "Trust me, detka, she doesn't care about this place enough to be doing all your biding."
Slowly, the wires in your brain start connecting. The process is slower than normal, though, thanks to the wine in your system and Wanda's hands on your body. "Then why'd you hire her?"
Instead of answering, she simply continues her slow exploration of your body. Even though you know what she's doing, you can't find it in yourself to care. Especially when her hands slip under your shirt. "You keep questioning me and you'll end up over my lap with a sore ass."
It's technically a threat, and yet your hips move against her before you can stop them. Wanda catches you, of course. She's far too attuned to your body and the way it reacts to her words, even when you don't want it to.
Whatever her plan is, it's working perfectly. As usual.
And while you could sit there and take it, you much prefer to be a brat about it. Like always.
"Are you going to actually do something or just keep talking?" You ask, grinding against her firm thigh.
Her eyes shift again, that smug smirk marking her features once more. "But you like it when I talk you through it, don't you?"
Before you can answer, one of her hands moves up and she slides two fingers into your mouth. It's unexpected, but you respond instantly all the same.
Her other hand remains on your waist, guiding you against her thigh. It should be embarrassing you much you want her. How needy you are that even the briefest touch gets you so desperate.
Instead, it feels fucking incredible.
"Don't worry," she murmurs, pushing her fingers in deeper just to take in the face you make. "I've got you."
Her words are meant to be comforting, and in a way they are, but more than anything, they give you the permission you need to let go. To stop thinking so damn much after a day of nonstop work and worrying.
Wanda sees it. She always does. And even though she could tease you about it, a part of her always longs to take care of you. It's hard for her to trust anyone, let alone want them around. It's different with you, though. It's always been different.
She slips her fingers out of your mouth only to slip them down the front of your trousers, a wicked glint in her eye shining as she finds the wetness staining your panties. "Already, darling? Did you miss me that much today?"
"I always do," you reply, walking the line between vulnerability and desire.
"Oh, I know. You just need me that much, huh?"
Despite the question, she gives you no time to actually answer. Instead, she slips her fingers under your panties to tease your clit.
The contact makes you jump, your hips conflicted about whether to move away or closer. Wanda makes the choice for you, though, squeezing your waist while her fingers slip inside your cunt.
You clench around the intrusion, head falling back as the pleasure moves up your spine. The sight of bared skin only makes the older woman move closer, her lips latching onto your neck. She knows better than to actually leave behind any hickies, despite how badly you both want her to.
She doesn't give you any time to think about that, though, because all your focus is given to her fingers pistoning in and out of you. Her pace is just fast enough to keep you gasping for air in between moans yet slow enough to feel her knuckles grazing against your walls.
"Wanda-" You gasp, your hands blindly griping her flexing biceps as she works you up effortlessly. Well, almost effortlessly, if the way her muscles move beneath your hands is anything to go by.
"Nice try, sweetheart," she mutters as she grazes her teeth against your pulse point. "Just because we're still at work doesn't mean you can forget your manners."
You whine despite yourself. "Please, mommy."
"Much better."
Your reward, besides the sweet praise, is her thumb toying with your aching clit. Your hips buck against her hand as you chase after the release slowly building. It's almost unfair how quickly she gets you to this point.
Then again, it's a much better alternative than when she gets into a sadistic mood and edges you over and over again only to ruin your orgasm and leave you spent and shaking on her expensive sheets.
Today, it seems she's in a much nicer mood because she keeps her fingers moving. "Do you want to cum, baby?"
You nod instantly, the condescending tone in her voice making your brain melt. "Yes, mommy! Please."
She trails a few kisses down your throat while her thumb toys mercilessly with your clit. It's almost like she's waiting until your whole body starts trembling to give you the command you crave.
"Alright, sweet girl, let go for me."
That's all your body needed to hear.
Your orgasms crashes into you all at once, pulling you down until all that's left is the overwhelming pleasure pulsing through your core. You can feel Wanda smiling against your skin as she slows down her movements, not stopping until she's sure she's wrung out every drop of your release.
You shift away from her when the feeling of her touch grows to be too much and she relents with a quick kiss to your jaw. "Good girl. You did so well for me, sweetheart."
All you can do is hum, your body already slumping against her. She chuckles at the action as her fingers find their way back into your mouth.
You're halfway to a much needed nap when Wanda shocks you awake with one simple sentence.
"If you're going to keep staring, you might as well come in, Kate."
Her free hand moves to the back of your neck, holding you against her even though all you want to do is run away. You've never let anyone except Wanda see you like this and you're not exactly thrilled about changing that right now. But, her embrace is still warm and if she takes care of the brunette's bad timing on her own, maybe it'll be fine. At least she takes her fingers out of your mouth to save you the embarrasment.
"I'm so sorry, I realized I forgot to drop off some paperwork and I assumed no one was here and then I saw you guys and-"
"And you decided to stop and watch instead of leaving." You don't have to be looking at her to know the smirk the older woman is wearing. "I didn't realize you were such a slut, Kate."
Wanda's voice lacks the harshness you had been expecting, but a brief glance toward the younger woman tells you she doesn't realize that. It's…cute, in a way. She looks like the most flustered deer in headlights you've ever seen and it weirdly works for her.
Kate opens her mouth a few times, trying to form words but failing miserably. The sight makes you giggle which makes Wanda glance down at you.
None of you seem quite sure of where to go, you just know Wanda's not mad and you're coming around to Kate's presence. Especially if being flustered means she's not talking all the time.
"Kate, if all you wanted was to be topped by Wanda, you didn't have to get a job here," you pipe up.
Your words seem to stun the room into silence and you shift enough to be able to watch the brunette's face turn an even deeper shade of pink. "I didn't- that's not-"
"It's not?" Wanda's eyebrow raise is almost inbedded in her tone. "You're not a good enough liar to try right now."
For a second, it looks like Kate is ready to run away from the conversation. But after a beat of silence, she rolls her shoulders back and straightens up, her chin held a little higher. "That's not why I applied to work here…and it's none of your business who I want to be topped by."
"It's both of us, isn't it?"
Wanda's question makes the brunette's confidence fall flat. "I...well, yes."
Despite the blush on her cheeks, her words are loud and clear. And they make you freeze long enough to realize Wanda was right.
Which just complicates things even more.
What the hell are you supposed to do now?
Wanda comes up with the answer for that question before you can even blink. And before you know it, she's inviting the brunette to her place, a seductive promise of "working things out" is the only hint either of you get about what she has up her sleeve.
You ask her about it at least ten times after Kate leaves and the two of you start packing up to go home. She doesn't answer, of course, and you force yourself to behave and be patient even though the mere thought of the brunette being allowed into your private world makes your heart pound in your chest…and your cunt clench around nothing.
Maybe the Bishop girl isn't so bad after all.
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mscherub · 2 months ago
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Emotional Support Shrimp
A/N: cutely drops in this fic I’ve had in my drafts for months…I’m still working on the Idia request. AND FOR THE OTHER PPL WHO REQUESTED STUFF I SEE U, I’m just unmotivated…Writers block is kicking my ass 😞
Tags: A little dark, supposed to be funny, fluff, Floyd being a menace…
Warnings:
Floyd leech causes harm (when doesn’t he?)
Violence
mentions of injuries (random student, referee)
suggestive towards the end
Swearing
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Honestly, when is money not always a huge feat for you? The day you finally get your allowance from Crowley, it’s gone within a minute from being spent on only a portion of needed items. Last week you ended up running out of tuna for Grim, and for the love of the seven you don’t wanna go through that again. Everyone knew of your situation, wasn’t very hard to see, but you weren’t the type to latch on to others and use them like a pay pig, but many offered which is a little concerning, anyways, to each their own, you suppose. You had your own values to follow, but you did appreciate what they were willing to do.
Azul knew quite fondly of your situation, using you as a “backup” employee for when one of the servers or dishwasher at the lounge decided to call off, and you usually accepted because, hey, money! He didn’t exactly trust you in the kitchen, mainly based off of the liabilities he could face since you didn’t even have birth records or anything that he could “ok” for you to work within that vicinity, but everything else was a great option.
The laborious shifts were no stranger to you after having taken up a position there so many times, you could say you were used to it by this point, and an even bigger achievement, used to the ways of the tweels, specifically Floyd. Yes they were unpredictable, yes they were scary when they wanted to be, yes they gave off mafia vibes, but they somehow “accepted” you, accepted, of course, being a very vague term to describe it. Maybe tolerate is a bit better. They didn’t seem to wish to cause harm or other masses of stress like they would just for funsies with other guys around campus, but if push comes to shove, you bet they’d have no doubt and chuck you under the bus in mere seconds, hence why you try and stay on their good side.
Technically they all owe you one in a way, especially Azul with his little overblot, but that’s something in the past for you at least.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Incident One: Ice Bath
“Prefect, go reason with him!” Azul barks out the command. You sigh and turn around from his office and go to find Floyd. A cycle that repeats itself. Free Therapist for Floyd is a good title…no, wait no. Doesn’t make sense. Plaything would be more appropriate. The thought makes you shudder and shake your head.
The click of the dress shoes on the ground, the clamor of people in the lounge, drowns out as your thoughts officially take over.
This time Floyd messed around more than he should have with people on Azul’s black list, and he may or may not have gotten carried away. So now you’re back on the hunt to find him after getting an earful from the boss himself, and hearing him and the troublemaker bicker in his office. Fun times here at Mostro Lounge. Why’d you choose to work here. Should have asked Mr. Sam if he needed any help…
The door to the pool is stuck wide open and once you peer your head inside you see Floyd swimming in circles angrily, the water rippling swiftly around his body.
“Floyd.” You call out. It’s almost akin to a gentle coo. Where did that gentleness come from? Whatever…
“Wanna swim, Shrimpy? I’ll promise not to drown you.” He stops and smirks. Ok. Stay away from the water. “Or if you came here to chat…we can see if I’ve got the patience for that right now.” He sighs.
“Azul—“
“I don’t wanna hear it. Quit your yapping and go swim around somewhere else.” His eyes narrow and his fins tense.
“Look. If you just got back to work then—“ you’re cut off again.
“Work is the last thing I wanna do right now.” He glares at you, but then eerily a smirk forms once he beckons you over. “You can cheer me up if you swim with me.”
“I have to get back to working too— and ok, never mind…”
He hoists himself up onto the tiled floor, half of his tail still swaying in the water. And then he pouts at you. It shouldn’t do anything to sway your determination to get him on track again, but it crumbles down those walls and you find yourself walking towards him.
“Yay! You do like me a little at least then, Shrimpy.” He giggles, and before you know it he grabs your wrist and slips back into the water, pulling you in with him.
It’s cold. OH IT’S SUPER COLD!
Thrashing your arms in the water you bob back up to the surface, your uniform hat drifting away to the other side of this might-as-well-be ice bath. This was a lot colder than you remember when you went down to the sea the one time…
“Hah! Cold? Humans are just so weak…” Floyd’s voice rumbles from behind you and his slick, slimy arms wrap around your soaked clothes that act as a second skin, yet barely do anything to keep the bite of the cold away.
“But you’re my Shrimpy so I’ll keep ya safe.”
His warmth is shared with yours now, but it’s not enough, unfortunately.
“Floyd…lemme outta here. It so fucking cold holy shit.”
He giggles at your misfortune and spins around a few times with you in his arms slowly.
His chin rests on your shoulder and a silence falls over you two. It’s not uncomfortable. But it’s short lived.
“Hold your breath!”
“Floyd, wait— No!!”
Bubbles spew out of your nose and you force your eyes open only to see mismatched ones gleaming with amusement.
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“I can’t believe you two…the time spent, rather wasted, will be taken out of both of your checks. This is just unbelievable…” Azul groans. His hand runs down his face before he sets his elbows down on the desk and rubs his temples.
“Out of my office.”
The silence is loud as you two walk out, a towel wrapped around you and a sloppily dressed Floyd who was just earlier grumbling about having to drink that transformation potion.
“Do something like that again and…ugh…”
“Eh? I thought it was fun, Shrimpy! We’ll swim again soon for sure.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Incident Two: Plucked Petals
“Drag him back to work…” Again?
You heed Azul’s orders and you turn out of his office yet again, pushing open the door and heading on your way to search for the one and only…
He left midway through his shift. It had only been like 3 hours…and he already got “bored.” You’re just fed up with his excuses, and then you end up getting yelled at as well if you take too long. You need to get back on the clock, too, “be lucky I’m even paying you to go get him,” Azul says, “be lucky I even pay you in the first place,” Azul says. Ok…anyways.
Traces of Floyd are no where to be seen. He couldn’t have gone far in the span of, what? Five minutes? He had long legs, sure, but he—
“OFF WITH YOU’RE HEAD!”
Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no. You knew who that was. Great. Now you had to calm down two people! Lovely…
You jog around the corner of the mirror chamber to the path way only to see Floyd with rose petals scattered about around him and a very angry riddle with his arms crossed in an exponential amount of annoyance and anger, as well as an unamused look.
“Oh-“
Riddles head whips in your direction and you prepare yourself for the onslaught of complaints…
“He broke a rule!” Riddle says, “He ruined my flowers,” Riddle says, “He came onto Heartslabyul grounds without invite and unannounced,” Riddle says. You had enough.
“Yea. He uh…mhmmm. I’ll take him back, just…uncollar him…” your finger points over to Floyd. He’s actively tugging at it and trying to crane his neck downwards so he can gnaw it off…is he ok?
“This is not the first time this has happened. I’ve let him get away with his actions one too many times. I shall send this matter to Headmaster Crowley now if you’d excuse me, Prefect. I have more pressing matters to tend to than dwaddle on a sorry soul who doesn’t know basic decency…”
“Riddle…I get where you’re coming from but Azul will soon have my head if I don’t bring him back and myself…so uh.” You sway on your feet.
He thinks for a moment. You weren’t untrustworthy, so maybe he could let this slide— just kidding, he’s Riddle. With a stern look and a dismissive tone, he makes up his mind and drags Floyd away to the main building.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“And now Floyd has earned a suspension?” Jade hums as he wipes off a table.
“From entering any other dorm besides his own, prohibited to participate in any club activities or work at the lounge, and now Azul’s making me work his shift and mine for at least a week…until his suspension is up.”
“My, my…I’d say it was deserved. As much as Floyd is held dear to me, he causes the outcomes with his actions. He finds them to be quite amusing, however, greatly so once you get involved.”
“Yea— wait…when I get involved? Is he doing this stuff on purpose?” Your hands perch themselves on your hips.
“That I cannot tell you.”
“Ugh…”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Incident Three: Balling
“What the fuck…” That’s all that leaves your lips once you step into the gym. People are chatting loudly and quickly and the only message that you got from Ace was:
Help. Floyd did sum shit. Tell him to get a hold and hopefully plan his words right so he doesn’t get a law suit
Safe to say you are fairly concerned. You push through the crowd of kids and find the familiar redhead accompanied by Jamil. Ace doesn’t let you speak one word once his eyes land on you.
“Ok, before you get all mad here, Prefect, you were the first one I decided to call cause uh…you know. You’re closer to the twins than anyone else really…” Ace attempts to reason with you but you’re entirely focused on something else. Someone else.
“Why is that guy passed out?”
The referee is surrounded by a few Sports med mages, all assessing the passes out form in the middle of the court. There’s a small pool of blood under his nose, which his nose is now plugged up with bits of gauze.
“Ok, yea. So…Floyd was given a penalty and he kinda hurled the ball at the ref…now he’s…” he motions vaguely to the motionless form. “Kinda knocked out. Probably has a broken nose. The look on the ref’s face was kinda priceless, though—“
Jamil smacks Ace and sighs.
“What?!”
“Floyd stormed off…” Jamil nods. That much is expected.
“Ok then…I shall…go find him.”
The suns setting. There’s a nice orange hue casted across the land. The setting would be really amazing to gawk at if it wasn’t for the task at hand. To find the culprit and ease him down from his hot headedness…you’re fine.
“Floyd—“
A hand grips your shoulder and turns you around. Face pressed against sweaty skin in under a second and you know who it is.
“Gross! Floyd!” His arms squeeze and, yep, don’t even try and breathe.
“That damn ref, you know? So sensitive! All I did was just trip someone…a couple times. RSA was kicking our asses again…just a tiny bit of foul play never hurt anyone…at least not too bad. Sports back in the sea were more fun!” His hold is steadfast.
“I once broke some poor guppies arm in a sport back home. Scuttle Ship. Fun game. And then I ripped his fins.”
“O-oh…ok…uh. On accident?” You struggle to keep your face from being muffled against his skin.
“Nah. Whole point of the game…whoever comes out less hurt is the winner.”
Oh…oh.
“Fun game…why are you here, anyways? Did ya come to watch the game? Hope you were gonna cheer for me.” His embrace, eases up.
“Uh, yea…and also I was worried…to see that you kinda left after what went down in the gymnasium…”
“Eh. He was a dumb ref like I said…”
You pause and clear your throat. “Your team needs you again…even id you’ll probably be benched.”
“Well then there’s no point in me going back. Plus. You’re better to hang around. I didn’t wanna play that game today, anyways…whaddya say we go scare some students walking around this late, huh?”
“Floyd…”
“Cmon.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Last shift of the week! Yay! You just gotta tough it out. Easier said than done. You’ll get your paycheck and then off to Heartslabyul to get Grim and then probably get force-fed some pastries by Trey which you’ll happily accept, and then back to Ramshackle.
“Jade, where’s Floyd? I need these orders for table 12, like now…” you huff as you shift the tray out from under your arm and place it down on the counter, looking back in the kitchen through the doubles doors that swing at their hinges. Articulating back and forth in a fluid motion.
“He got called into Azul’s office.” He hums as he idly writes down things on his notepad
“Again?” That’s just great news for you. “If I have to call him down again I might just quit for real this time.”
Jade doesn’t even turn his head at your words. There ones you’ve said before yet you’re still here.
“Always, he’s been slacking off, as usual.” He smiles. “I can go ask the cooks where the meals are if you’d like.”
“I’d…appreciate it. I need the tips from customers tonight so I need all the tables I can get. Thanks a bunch.” You sigh, leaning against the counter and pulling out your phone. You read a few of the messages sent to various group chats you were in, the first year group chat oddly talking about how Professor Crewel is, quote, “a kinky mf.” Yea, you’re just gonna put your phone away again…were they wrong though?
Jade comes back out carrying another circular tray, you straighten up and you take it off of him. “Thank you, Jade. You’re a financial savior for me.” You chuckle as you move your hand around on the bottom till it rests balanced on your palm.
“It was nothing, really.” He gives a small bow and goes back to his duties.
You head off again back into the seating areas, weaving through the crowds of people who were, for some reason, standing instead of sitting and ending up in your way. You make it over to your section and then over to the table, bending your knees a bit as you place the tray down on a smaller foldable table off to the side. A random plate is selected and you put on your happy face and act for the people sitting around in the booth.
“Here you are, the seafood bake, uh, then you, you got the lobster dish here…then you ordered the salmon, and then you ordered the snow crab! That’s it I believe? Does anybody need anything before I head off?” You clasp your hands together and look frantically around the table as you wait and watch for any of them to speak. You’re met with small shakes of their heads and soft sighs of no’s, taking the hint and giving one last bright smile before you nod and walk off.
Off in the distance, a muffled slam of a door is heard and you see Floyd walking out of Azul’s office, a grimace etched onto his face as he heads back into the kitchen and passes by Jade, who, just glares at him before he goes to finish his own tasks.
You knew what would happen next, Azul would find you, then make you “calm him down.” It was never something you liked mainly because it was putting your life at risk, which was ironic because Azul explicitly stated he didn’t want you partaking in any harmful activities, but whatever. It’s sadly another small side job that’s forced upon you just so Floyd can get back to work himself. All for money…
The other waiters grab dishes and scurry off, moving far away. The chatter and yelling within the kitchen dies down significantly, going quiet as pots and pans slam against the stove top, the only culprit of that being Floyd. You take one breath in before you go inside and pick out the teal-ish colored hair from the other bundles of students and walk over to him as calmly as you could. It’s better to do the things you know that you’ll be asked to do before they happen, so…you got this. And you’re only doing it because you know you’ll be asked to and totally not because you like Floyd maybe a little. That’s not it. Definitely not it. He’s scary why would you like him? Exactly. Anyways! No sweat! It’s just Floyd…that’s it! Just Floyd and no worries…everything will go swell and you’ll all be happy again! Maybe he’ll break a few ribs when he squeezes you but that’s nothing…you’ll just be magicked up later by the nurse mage and you’ll be just fine. Just fine. You’re sweating. Shit—
“Hey, Floyd. What happened.” You sigh with a slight pout on your face. He doesn’t even look at you, his face contorting even more into a look that said “leave me the fuck alone.” It was worth a shot…he usually found that to be a dumb look on you but I guess not today. Oh no. He’s royally pissed right now. Hopefully Azul didn’t sneak a waiver somewhere in that working contract you signed…
You straighten up and glance at the other chefs in the kitchen, all of them giving you questioning gazes. One in the back clasps his hands together and bows his head and— wait, is this guy really praying right now? Geez…
“Floyd…” you try again.
He works away harder at the random meal he’s cooking. The contents already looked charred…
“Don’t wanna talk, Shrimpy,” He huffs, “Go.” He says gruffly.
“I’m not gonna go—“
“I’m busy! Since Azul wants me working my fins off then you know what, I’ll do just that!” He spits out. It sounds threatening, filled with warnings, but before you could try one last time to get him to ease up, one of the students bumps into him, sending the dishes they were carrying flying into the air. The guy stumbles back, food splattering on the floor and plates shattering, Floyd acting like a brick wall and staying still as he slowly turns to look down at him. No words are exchanged. None at all. He simply dumps the hot oil and food that he had into the pan onto him.
Screaming, yelling, a lot goes on within the span of a few seconds. Azul comes in, Jade follows behind, other waiters peer into the kitchen to see what’s going on.
You take the initiative and you grab Floyd’s arm while he’s distracted and take the pan from out of his grasp and set it back down on the stove. You turn the burner off and you look back at him, then to the, now injured, guy upon the floor.
“Floyd. This is coming out of your check, and you’re banned from the kitchen.” Azul comes over quickly with an aura of anger. Floyd rolls his eyes and pushes past him to walk out.
“Prefect, go after him, will you? I don’t need him hurting another person who doesn’t deserve it.” Azul waves his hand at the situation. It was common so no one really took much time to dwell on it since Floyd partook in these types of activities just to pass the time. A common occurrence if you will.
Azul gives you one last stern glance to tell you again silently to go do what he had asked of you. You reluctantly nod and you go out to search for him. It’s absurd, really, having to do all of this. It’d be better if they left him alone to blow off some steam, but no, you have to go calm him down, you have to be the one to watch him like a helicopter parent.
You go to the tweels shared room and knock on the door. It was a just a guess he’d be in his room, but you silently hoped he wasn’t so you’d have some time to avoid either a life or death situation. You liked your life at least a little now…
Silence. You’re met with silence. Ok, try again, just once more to make sure he’s not in there. You knock again, a little louder this time and announcing yourself to being there. And silence again. Maybe fate is helping you out today…
“Floyd? Are you in there?.” You’re about to knock one last time when the door is quickly ripped open, an angry Floyd peering down at you. Brows furrowed, eyes squinted and dark, glazed over with frustration and anger, a scowl etched into his lips. Yep…and here you were, standing in front of him, practically helpless and without anywhere to run because you know he’d find that a fun game and catch up to you in a second.
You straighten up under his gaze and clear the lump in your throat that you didn’t even know formed.
“Hey…”
Floyd doesn’t make any noises, instead opting for what he likes to do when he’s this mad, and wraps his arms around you and squeezes tight. He brings you into the room and closes the door with his foot, going over to his bed and taking you down with him as he nuzzles his cheek against yours.
You try and squirm out of his arms but he’s insanely strong and the efforts you make are useless. You’re already waiting for your back to make a popping noise…
“Floyd— heyyyy…let me go.” You murmur out as you struggle to breathe with all this extra weight on top of you.
“Shhh, Shrimpy. Quiet.” He mutters. He moves his face to the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning against the side, which in turn causes you to tense up. What the fuck is he doing. You try to shrink away, but that was a mistake because he squeezes you against him even more.
He brushes his lips over your pulse point and smirks, but it quickly fades away as he opts to keep his face pressed up against your neck, not doing anything. He likes to feel your heart racing…
“Always trying to make me feel better, Shrimpy…” he sighs. “And you do…meh, sometimes…you don’t have to listen to Azul…but ya do. Starting to wonder if you just like being around me…” he nuzzles into you again, teeth grazing your skin.
“For one, I kinda have to listen to Azul…” you whisper. “I can’t be like you with him. Plus…I don’t mind you all that much since—“ he squeezes again. For sevens sake. “Ease up! I don’t mind you, yea…you’re fine to be around. That’s it.”
“Liar…” he chuckles. “You’re so silly…” he pulls his face up and looks at you, his mismatched eyes calculating, inspecting that gaze in your eyes towards him.
“You’re stupid, too…for liking someone like me. But it’s so cute, Shrimpy.” His lips quirk up into a smirk and he bears his razor sharp teeth to you. “I could easily hurt you, Shrimpy….”
“That sounds vaguely like a threat but…you don’t really hurt me— not ever actually. Scare me? Yes…but not hurt.” you murmur. His smile softens a bit and he nods, moving his forehead to rest against yours. If you weren’t already flushed, you were now.
“No…but I could, that’s the point.” He giggles before moving away again. He was teasing. “Do you know why I don’t?” He hums as he sits up, letting his arms unravel from around you. He looks out the window connected to the sea. You sit up as well, taking in a well deserved breath of air.
He’s silent for a moment, watching as the fish pass by without a care. Your uniform is all wrinkled now, great—
“Cause I’d be kinda pissed off without you around, y’know. And not just how I usually am…I’d be mad all the time.”
You stop. He stops and looks at you. You make very awkward eye contact with him, but both of your gazes soften. That’s sweet of him in his own way. Quite frankly you didn’t think he was capable of that since it’s not usually like him. Why is your heart beating a bit quicker now? This time it’s not so much out of stress or the fear of being eaten alive, Floyd looks fairly sated so…what’s this feeling for…
“What do you think of me, hmmm?”
You don’t know how to respond to that. Does he actually care what people think? No, not really. You see that all the time with how he even talks to teachers. But if you had to say, the few people he listens to, slightly, are Jade, Azul, and…you. That doesn’t mean anything! This is an odd question coming from him. “I think you’re…ok. Being around you is fun sometimes…uh…I don’t really know.” That’s great. You probably ticked him off more…
“Just ‘ok’? Ouch, Shrimpy…” he pouts as he looks at you. He inches his face closer to yours again, personal space being far out of the question at the moment. He looks down to your lips before smirking again and then locking on to your eyes.
“You just saying that cause you’re hiding something?”
That’s not…you weren’t, no. Definitely not. You didn’t really want to say how well he made you smile or laugh on days where you were down, or that he cared that much to make you happy again. Or whenever he’d always seem to find you to be his go to person to bug now for, well, everything he did.…you didn’t wanna say you liked getting him out of trouble, didn’t want to tell him you do enjoy being around him, he’d get all smug about it…and that’s it! Totally nothing else behind it. Nope.
“Be honest, Shrimpy. You like me? Cause I like you…for some reason.” He sighs. He moves closer again.
Kinda straight forward, no?
“What…huh?! WAIT WHAT?” you manage to stammer out. Floyd nods along to your words with an unimpressed look.
“I like you.”
“I heard you the first time!”
“Do you like me?”
“Ok…well…no! Wait…maybe? Yes? How do I even answer that right away?!” You’re freaking out and he’s enjoying it.
His smirk widens again and he laughs at you…this guy.
“See? Silly Shrimpy…” his arms lace back around you and his face is right in front of yours again.
Without taking anything else into consideration, Floyd pushes his lips against yours.
You don’t move, you don’t try and push him away, and out of all the times Floyd has ever given you a chance to stop him in any of his acts, you could tell this moment was one of them. His eyes are still locked onto yours, lidded and a smirk forming, gaging your reaction. His arms barely touch your body, giving you a chance to get the fuck out if you’d want to. But you don’t move away. You push your lips against his more and you flutter your eyes closed. Floyd takes the hint and he holds you again, though this time, it’s gentle.
After a moment you both pull away, a goofy grin across his face. “Hmmmm…” he giggles, “I feel a lot better now, Shrimpy. See? I’m bored now…cmon, let’s go somewhere and ditch that stupid work Azul’s got us doing…”
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So! Wasn’t the best, yes, I know, but it’s something…
Also I feel like some parts from my courting fic for Floyd wiggled its way in here—
Master List
Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!
Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)
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grimmusings · 2 months ago
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Given the recent resurgence in purity culture and anti-villain sentiment on Tumblr, this feels like a good time to talk about censorship and bullying. This is not a call-out post for anything that's happened recently, just some commentary on what, to me, is a disturbing trend and some general guidelines for how to conduct yourself in fandom spaces.
Essentially, it boils down to this: You have the right to not interact with anything you choose in a fandom. You don't have the right to make that choice for anyone else.
Do you know why AO3 doesn't have content bans? It stems from anti-censorship beliefs and First Amendment rights, and it also comes from a long history of watching things like this go down in fandom. The thing about banning one kind of content--or that kind of mindset--is that it hardly ever stops with one thing, until fandoms are so scrubbed from anything that has the potential to be problematic that they collapse under any perceived threat to their rigid moral standards. If you doubt that, consider how it's taken less than a month for this to jump from Marvel to include other groups of villains and fandoms. Guaranteed, it will not stop there. (And that's to say nothing of how, historically, censorship leads to silencing marginalized groups, but that's a different post.) Conservatism is insidious and takes a lot of forms, but censorship is ultimately a conservative, even a fascist, action.
The fact is that what you enjoy reading or writing is actually no reflection on what kind of person you are. There's even an argument to be made that exploring darkness in fiction a) makes you a more empathetic human and, b) makes you better-equipped to handle those topics in real life (but that's another post too). I don't care what you want to write on your own blog. I don't care how controversial your muse or your ship is or if you write the darkest of dark fic out there. I may not want to write it, engage with it, or even see it on my dash, but I'll defend your right to write it.
Writing fascist characters (HYDRA, Empire, Death Eaters, etc.) doesn't make someone a Nazi any more than writing Hannibal Lecter makes them a cannibal or writing the Punisher makes them an advocate for gun violence. Saying they are breaks one of the primary tenets of roleplay: that mun does not equal muse. It's widely accepted in the roleplaying community that we don't agree with our characters' views, and we would never in a million years condone the things they do in real life. That rule doesn't go away just because you personally don't like the character.
So let's talk about what to do when you come across writing you don't agree with.
What you have a right to do: Feel however you feel about it. Ask for tags and readmores (they have a right to refuse). Decline to explain or justify why it makes you uncomfortable. Decide not to associate with people who write that thing. Blacklist. Unfollow. Block. Add to your DNI list. Vent about it in a safe space with your friends. Take a step back from the internet. Remember that the people on the other side of the screen are real, actual humans, while characters are imaginary. Embrace the fact that engaging in fiction is optional, and you can choose to stop any time you want. Trust that grown adults have the basic media literacy to understand the difference between reality and fiction. Remind yourself of the first rule of fandom, the one AO3 is built on (Don't like; don't read). Recognize that it's perfectly valid to not want to engage with something, but that expecting other people not to write it at all isn't your call to make and can lead down a dangerous path.
What you don't have a right to do: Bully or doxx other writers. Shame them for their choices when they don't agree with you. Demand explanations or justifications from them. Gaslight them into thinking nobody else will write with them if they continue to write this thing. (You don't speak for the entire fandom. You are a very small minority making a lot of noise.) Create call-out posts. Participate in witch hunts. Send anon hate or death threats. Make people feel unsafe in their own spaces. Police other people's content.
If you descend to bullying someone because you don't like what they're writing, you don't have the moral high ground. I can't believe it needs to be said, but real bullies are worse than fictional antagonists. Bullying and censorship are far more alarming threats than people who enjoy exploring dark topics in their writing. Nobody's asking you to like it, agree with it, or even look at it. And if you don't? Now is the perfect time to say nothing about it, block, and move on. Rest assured, we don't want you on our blogs any more than you want us on yours.
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invincibledc · 3 months ago
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꩜ .ᐟ𝐌𝐲 𝐀𝐱𝐞
𐬺𖦹꧁🃏꧂𖦹𐬺
𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐍 (𝐎𝐂) 𝐗 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐒!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑
⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★ Summary: due to his momma Harley, his only guardian he trust, she gives some new weapons. And he knows the only person he wants to show them off to. His only special person.
⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★ Genre: crack fic(?)/fluff
⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★ Info: this is an OC I thought of cause I got bored. He’s the son of Harley Quinn and joker. Full name, Jacklyn Oswald Quinn. Reader is the twin sister of Damian, but Damian is the older twin of course. Im only a writer so you can imagine who he looks more like but all I can is he is handsome canonically in my head and anything. Boy’s crazy but handsome. Yea the title is inspired by ICP. I love ICP.
⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★ Word count: 1,307
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Rushing downstairs, you barely glanced at Damian, who raised an eyebrow. “Where are you going, sister?” he asked, pausing his ascent to watch you closely.
“To hang out,” you replied flatly, ready to bolt. You knew he would push back, and you were right as he grabbed the back of your shirt.
“Don’t tell me. It’s that sociopath heir of the Joker,” Damian said, disappointment clear in his voice. “You know father wouldn’t be happy to know you’re seeing him.” He released your shirt, allowing you to fix it while he maintained a firm stance.
“Damian, I doubt Dad cares who I’m dating. Plus, Jack isn’t like Joker, and you know that” you shot back, narrowing your eyes and crossing your arms, mirroring his stance. You both stood there, locked in a standoff, neither willing to back down.
“I’m only looking out for my little sister. That’s my priority,” Damian said with unwavering intensity. You scoffed, throwing your arms up in exasperation.
“Dames, it’s not that serious. He lives with Harley, and you know she’s changed. Let it go.” His gaze softened slightly, signaling a tentative victory on your part.
“Fine. But you better call or text me when you reach her apartment,” he conceded.
“Alright, thanks! Bye, Bubba, love you!” You quickly hugged him and stepped out of the manor, accepting your jacket from Alfred. As Damian watched you leave, Alfred patted him on the back.
“I assume you’ve put the tracker in her jacket?”
“Of course Pennyworth,” Damian replied with a smirk before heading upstairs.
The reason you were headed to see Jack was simple—Harley had gotten him new gadget weapons, and he was eager to show you how they worked. He had called you, practically yelling with excitement, his raspy voice cracking as he coughed before calming down.
You could have taken a ride with Alfred, but who would suspect anything ordinary with a fancy limousine pulling up to a regular apartment complex?
Upon arriving, you entered and pressed the buzzer. A buzz echoed, and you recognized that familiar rasp.
“Is that you, puddin’?” His Brooklyn accent came through, and you could hear his mother chuckling in the background.
“Hey, that’s Y/n to you, mister,” you teased. You heard him chuckle in response. “Yes ma’am,” he purred. “Come up so I can see you, babe.”
You hummed in agreement and stepped into the elevator, enduring the strange elevator music. When the elevator jolted slightly and stopped, you instinctively steadied yourself, arms outstretched like in a scene from Jurassic Park.
Once it opened, you made your way to Jack’s door. As you reached to knock, it swung wide, revealing the blonde-haired boy with blue eyes. He swept you up, spinning you around, and laughter spilled from your lips.
“Well, hello gorgeous,” he said in a low voice as he set you down, wrapping his arms around you.
“Hello, Jackie-boy.” You cupped his face, feeling him melt under your touch. Just as he leaned in to kiss you, Harley’s loud voice interrupted you both. Jack groaned while you couldn’t help but chuckle.
“C’mon, sweetie pie, I know you missed your little girlfriend. But no kissing in front of Mommy.” Jack’s eyes widened, his face flushing with embarrassment.
“Mom!” He released you and pushed Harley out of the living room. “Okay, maybe it’s time to tell Aunt Ivy about your new nails.” Harley glanced at her nails as she was pushed into her room.
“You’re so right!” She exclaimed, slamming the door behind her as Jack sighed dramatically.
“Alright,” he said, turning back to you with a smirk. “Now let’s get to work.”
“Okay, this is my axe,” Jack announces confidently, swinging a striking black and red axe that perfectly matches Harley’s aesthetic. He sweeps it over his leftover, resting a hand on his hip with a smirk as you settle onto the couch. He sets down an array of weapons on the table: a hammer, cards, small balls, and clown noses.
“Oooh, so lumber Jack. What's your new name, the lumberjacker?” you tease with a sly smile hiding behind your hand.
“Very funny, babe. But no,” he retorts, swinging the axe with effortless precision, twirling it in the air before catching it and placing it down. “Besides, this hammer can pack a punch.”
As he says this, he glances your way with a mischievous spark, then grabs the hammer. “Here, hold it.” He extends it toward you. You raise an eyebrow, accepting the challenge, but as you grip the hammer, you instinctively yelp, feeling its weight pull you down.
“Th-this is heavy!” you exclaim, glancing up at his smug expression. “Of course, it’s customized to my hand. It’s like phone touch ID,” he retorts, effortlessly lifting the hammer from your hands. He swings it behind his back, arms wrapped around the wooden shaft.
“And it’s inspired by my ma’s old tools,” he states proudly, placing it down next to the axe. He picks up the cards while you return to your seat, brushing your hands off and watching him keenly.
“Isn't that the same set of cards that explode?” you challenge, pointing at them. Jack chuckles, his voice resonating with amusement. “Nah, they blow smoke. If I find myself in a tight spot, I just toss these down and disappear.”
You hum in amusement, and Jack's smile widens at your reaction. “That’s right. I’d test them out, but my momma warned me against it,” he adds, setting them down beside the small white balls. “You know, because of the smoke detector,” he finishes, glancing at the clown noses with curiosity. You pointed with your head at it.
“What’s up with these? Looks like you’re becoming a real clown boy, Quinn,” you remark with a smirk.
“Oh please, these?” He scoffs in mock disdain. “They’re just bombs. I throw them, they stick, and BOOM!” he exclaims loudly, demonstrating the action with his hands, making you chuckle despite yourself.
You shift your focus to the balls. “So what’s the deal with those?” you inquire, pointing at the small, innocent-looking objects.
“Oh, those?” He scoops them up and begins juggling effortlessly, grinning as he spins around to face you. “These are flashbangs the size of ping pong balls.” He throws you a smirk reminiscent of that viral TikTok emoji.
“Wow, so creative,” you clap sarcastically, barely suppressing a grin. Jack frowns before blowing a raspberry at you. “Jeez, babe, so cold—colder than Mr. Freeze. But whatever,” he says, placing the balls down and moving closer to you on the couch.
He plops himself down beside you, pulling you closer until your thighs touch, his arm encircling your back. “I’m really glad you came over. I thought I’d have to drag you out another way,” he says softly, leaning in closer.
You lean in, feeling the chemistry crackle between you. His hand glides down to your waist, giving it a decisive squeeze. Your breaths intertwine as you gaze into his blue eyes, which soften before he closes them. You mirror his action, drawing closer…
“HEY!”
You and Jack jump apart, landing on opposite sides of the couch as Harley appears between you, phone pressed to her ear, her expression a mix of determination and mischief.
“Hey, kid, mind if I feed you some mac n cheese?” Harley asks, her raised brow demanding a response.
“Uhh… no?” you reply with a shrug, watching as her frown disappears. “Awesome! Won’t take long,” she says, striding away while you catch snippets of Poison Ivy’s voice from the other room. “I know, right?! How could she even say that when she’s on her fourth husband?!” Harley exclaims as she heads to the kitchen.
Jack sighs, covering his face with a hand, lost in thought. You glance at him, sensing his frustration.
When will he finally get the uninterrupted time alone with you that he craves?
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gracie-eilish · 5 months ago
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Could you please do something where reader is like super introverted but comfortable around billie (cuz they're dating 😛) and one day reader is just yapping so much like ranting, but then she realizes she's talking a lot and gets embarrassed and starts to apologize a bunch but billie finds it absolutely adorable when she gets passionate about things since its not too often she does it?
an: thanks for the requestttt babyyyyy:) i hope u like itttt🧡🧡🧡
Heart Eyes😍
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It wasn’t often that you talked this much.
Billie knew that.
She knew you were quiet, introverted—the kind of person who preferred listening over speaking, who felt more at home in the background rather than the spotlight. She never minded. If anything, she loved it, loved the way you opened up just enough for her, how you never felt the need to fill the silence when you were together.
But sometimes… sometimes when you two were alone, you got carried away.
Like right now.
You weren’t even sure what had started it. One moment, you and Billie were curled up on the couch, her fingers lazily tracing patterns against your thigh, the two of you basking in that warm, easy silence you always fell into. And then—you started talking.
It was something small at first. Maybe a comment about a show you had been watching, something that had been bothering you about a certain character.
“I just don’t get it,” you huffed, shifting against the cushions as Billie let out a small hum of acknowledgment. “Like—why would they build up this whole storyline just to throw it away? Do they not understand how character arcs work?”
Billie smirked, eyes flicking up from where her head rested against your shoulder. “Oh no,” she teased. “Here we go.”
You shot her a playful glare, but that only encouraged her grin.
“I’m serious, Billie!” You sat up a little straighter, suddenly feeling the need to gesture as you spoke. “They spent three seasons setting this up! And then what? They just—throw it away like it’s nothing?” You scoffed, hands flying in frustration. “What was even the point? It’s lazy writing, that’s what it is. They had so much potential, and they ruined it!”
Billie watched you with an amused glint in her eyes, her lips twitching like she was holding back a smile.
“I mean, tell me I’m wrong,” you pressed, turning to her expectantly. “You know it was bad. Like, objectively bad.”
Billie finally let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, babe, I’m not about to argue with you. You’re on a roll right now.”
That only fueled you more.
“Exactly! And it’s not even just this show—writers always do this! It’s like they don’t trust the audience to appreciate a slow-burn arc anymore.” You sighed dramatically, running a hand through your hair. “Like, God forbid they actually develop their characters instead of just rushing to wrap things up in the most unsatisfying way possible.”
Billie let out another hum, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles against your knee. “Mm, sounds like someone should just write their own show.”
You paused, considering. “Honestly? I could do a better job than half these people.”
Billie snorted. “No doubt.”
“I’m serious!” You shifted to face her more fully, your expression animated. “If I ever wrote a show, I’d actually respect my characters. I wouldn’t just throw out their development for shock value.”
Billie’s grin widened. “Oh, I believe you, baby.”
You went on, too caught up in your thoughts to notice the way she was looking at you.
“And another thing,” you continued, “it’s like they don’t even watch their own show. How do you write for characters you clearly don’t understand? How do you spend years creating something just to betray the entire foundation of what made it good?”
Billie bit her lip, watching as your hands gestured wildly, your eyes practically glowing with passion.
You barely stopped to breathe, completely wrapped up in your rant. “And don’t even get me started on how they completely sidelined the best character. Like, hello? They deserved way more screentime—”
Then, suddenly, mid-sentence—
You froze.
Your face went hot, your stomach flipping as you realized just how much you had been saying.
“Oh my god,” you breathed, your hands immediately retreating to your lap. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
You turned to Billie, half-expecting her to look overwhelmed, or maybe even a little annoyed.
Instead—
She was staring at you.
Like, full-on staring.
Her blue eyes were impossibly soft, lips slightly parted, and if you weren’t mistaken—her cheeks were a little pink.
She looked completely entranced.
“Billie?” You blinked, suddenly very aware of how quiet the room had gotten. You shifted under her gaze, ducking your head as embarrassment settled in your chest. “I was totally rambling, I—I didn’t even let you say anything. I’ll stop now.”
But then Billie melted.
Like, literally melted.
She let out the softest little sigh, her entire body going warm against you as she reached forward, cupping your face with both hands. Her thumbs brushed over your cheeks, her expression so stupidly in love that you felt even more flustered.
“Are you kidding?” she whispered, her voice dipping into something soft, something almost dazed.
You swallowed, blinking rapidly. “W-What?”
Billie’s smile was slow, her lips curling at the edges like she couldn’t contain it.
“That was adorable.”
Your stomach flipped.
Your lips parted, but before you could even think of what to say, she was already leaning in, pressing the softest, most lingering kiss to your forehead.
“Baby,” she murmured, her nose brushing against your skin as she pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “You never talk that much, and I swear I have actual heart eyes watching you right now.”
You made a noise in protest, your face burning. “Billie—”
“No, seriously,” she insisted, grinning now, her fingers sliding down to gently cradle your jaw. “You were so passionate, I could feel how much you cared, and—ugh, you’re just so cute.”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Stop.”
Billie giggled—an actual, breathless little giggle.
She pried your hands away from your face with ease, tugging them into her lap before lacing your fingers together.
“Why are you embarrassed?” she teased, tilting her head. “I loved it. Love when you talk like that.”
You chewed on your lip, still trying to process the ridiculous amount of fondness in her eyes. “…You do?”
Billie sighed dramatically, squeezing your hands. “Baby. I love everything about you.”
You exhaled slowly, the warmth in your chest growing until it was almost unbearable.
Billie beamed, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “Now—go on.”
You blinked. “What?”
She grinned. “Keep talking. I wanna hear more.”
Your heart stuttered.
You hesitated, but the way she was looking at you—the way she was practically soaking up your every word—it made the nerves melt away just enough.
So you did.
You kept talking.
And Billie listened.
She held onto your every word like it mattered, like you mattered.
And maybe, just maybe—
You’d let yourself get carried away more often.
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tarotwithavi · 1 day ago
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What are you underestimating about yourself?
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PILE 1
Alright, so I feel that you might be underestimating your resilience. You don't realize how strong you are and how you're able to go through situations that other people have difficulty handling. I also sense that you might find yourself in situations where others would have completely freaked out. You also underestimate your emotional intelligence sometimes. I feel like you think you're being too much, that your emotions are too much, that you’re feeling too much, and everything is just overwhelming. But you need to realize that this is your superpower. The way you feel and the way you express yourself is your strength. Do not let anyone tell you that you're too much or cringe. Your kind heart and your emotional depth are your strengths. Sometimes you might underestimate your ideas, your passions, your hobbies. Please know that you have the ability to make your dreams come true, alright? You're underestimating your potential and you need to realize it soon enough before it slips away. Honestly, I think it's never too late to explore yourself or discover a new version of you, but still, some things are better done sooner than later. And I also see that you might underestimate your beauty, darling. How should I convince you that you are the most beautiful person in the entire universe? Beauty is subjective. Just because someone doesn't understand your beauty doesn't mean you're not. And you should definitely not be underestimating the way you dress yourself. You are literally an inspiration. You are literally a fashion guru. I see that in the past, a lot of people around you doubted your ideas and the things you wanted to do. Maybe you wanted to become a fashion designer and someone in your family told you that it was irrelevant. I'm especially getting something related to fashion, makeup, styling, and things like that.
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PILE 2
You are underestimating your intuition, because the message I'm getting is that a lot of times you get a vision, a dream, or a feeling that something is about to happen, and when it does, you get shocked like, babe, you saw that coming. Sometimes you doubt yourself. Sometimes you think that if you share this with somebody, no one is going to believe you. But I want you to know that your intuition is amazing. I feel like some of you could actually be psychics. You are underestimating your vision and your passion. I see that you might be stuck in a cycle where you are doing things you don't even want to do, just for the sake of it, and it is getting you nowhere. You are underestimating your “I don’t give a f***” energy. I know you care deeply for people, but when someone crosses your boundaries, you are out. You won't even look in their direction for the rest of your life, and that is the level of your energy. Sometimes you may have forgiven your friends or even family for terrible things because you thought you were being too much or too dramatic. But you are underestimating your courage to walk away. I feel like some of you might resonate with pile one, because I got a similar energy for both these piles. Some of you might be thinking about starting your own blog, but you believe you are not skilled enough or need to learn more. The truth is, you already are. You already know enough. Just do it. Start that business, that YouTube channel, that influencer journey or UGC page. You may feel like you need to learn more or that what you know is not enough to get you through, but trust me, it is.
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PILE 3
You are underestimating your voice and your words. I feel like you might not talk much, but when you do, it’s like words of wisdom flow out of you. You could genuinely profit from the way you speak. You could be a great writer or someone who has the ability to inspire others with your words. Sometimes you feel like nobody is going to listen to you or care about what you have to say, and that’s why you stay quiet most of the time. I also feel like you underestimate your social skills. You might be a Gemini or have Gemini or another air sign in your Sun, Moon, or Rising. You are underestimating how much your thoughts are affecting your self-image right now. You might be overthinking or struggling with anxiety, and I feel like you need to do some throat chakra healing. You are restricting yourself from reaching your full potential. And honestly, we all do that sometimes when we are not in the right environment, around the right people, or when our thoughts and ideas are not being understood. In those moments, we start doubting ourselves and shrinking who we are. You are also underestimating how much of a control freak you can be. When things start slipping out of your hands, you lose your calm. But you don’t need to cling so tightly to the idea of feeling safe. Letting go does not mean losing yourself you know
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