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#and appealing to Me Personally. the most important thing
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2024 Book Review #14 – And Put Away Childish Things by Adrian Tchaikovsky
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This book I basically came across by chance. Or, well, not exactly chance, but I’d never even heard of it before until I checked what Tchaikovsky books my local library system had copies of and saw it. Which in a sense is a terrible way to come into this – it’s an incredibly dramatic swerve from any of Tchaikovsky’s other stuff that I’ve read – but coming in totally blind pretty much worked, I think. Genuinely very fun read.
The story follows Harry Bodie, a children’s TV presenter facing down middle age with a career that’s never really lived up to expectations. Somewhat desperately, he signs on to a tabloid-ish program about digging into the family tree, hoping to use the residual fame of his grandmother and her fairly famous and successful series of postwar children’s fantasy novels as a career boost. Instead he gets his face rubbed in the fact that his great-grandmother is only recorded as an indigent madwoman, and the famous author was born in a sanitarium. That the famous Underhill stories were, in fact, based in large part on delusions told as childhood fables and family histories.
Somewhat unsurprisingly, the stories turn out to be less delusional than previously reported. Bodie is in quick succession accosted by a faun, approached by a suspicious PI, and kidnapped by a surprisingly moneyed fan-club-cum-occult-coven. Soon enough he’s getting his first taste of Underhill first hand – or, at least, what’s left of it after a century and change of economizing and entropy.
I’m on record as being fairly dismissive about the whole category of ‘stories about stories’, and I guess I need to eat my words a bit because I actually really enjoyed this. To an extent that’s probably just because it doesn’t get too meta – storyland is a work of deliberate artifice, the stories themselves don’t shape the world or do magic, it just generally never tries to get too cute or didactic about it – but still. This is a book where the hero at one point describes his situation as ‘Five Nights at Aslan’s’ so there’s no real principled distinction for me to cut here. One of the main characters is literally a folklorist.
Though, it’s less about stories than one specific story in particular. The unremarkable schlub plucked out of their mundane life and told that they’re special, that they’re the hero or the true heir and possess some inherent numinous essence that makes them the most important person in the world. This is a terribly appealing story, and one Harry feels the lure of very keenly – he’s self-aware enough to say quite clearly that he goes back to the frozen, decaying world full of half-dead monsters less out of morality or rationality than simply because it was a place where he mattered, for good or ill.
It’s probably not reading too deeply into the book’s themes to note that the story is a lure in a fairly literal sense, or that the true heir is destined to ‘save’ the world by being hollowed out and possessed by those who came before them.
Of course as much as this is in conversation with Narnia et al, it owes at least as much to whole genre of ‘what is nostalgic children’s property, but fucked up?’ creepypasta. Fairyland is choked with fungal growths and creepy, staticy not-snow. The scampering, troublemaking faun is miserable and worn out with bad knees. The Best Of All Dogs is a rotting, terrifying hellhound. There’s even a titanic evil scary clown. Aesthetically the book owes far more to r/nosleep than Lewis Carroll.
Harry himself is an absolute delight as a main character. By which I mean he just sucks so bad, but in very mundane and endearing ways. Who among us can not relate on some level to a failing middle-aged actor who always made a point of not trading on his family name but is secretly pretty resentful it hasn’t helped him more? He refuses the call to adventure then decides his life’s kind of shit and he’d rather get stabbed to death by goblins, so he comes crawling back and begs for a second chance. He’s left a glowing magic sword that will defeat all enemies, but it’s stuck in the body of one of his kidnappers so he just runs screaming and it spends the rest of the book in an evidence locker somewhere. I love him.
I really have no idea to what degree it was intentional, but it also does rather muse me that – okay, you know the standard bit of feminist media analysis where male characters are the actors, while female characters are generally walking set decoration and plot devices? It really deeply amuses me that Harry spends the better part of the story as a magical blood bank getting led around or terrified and awaiting rescue, whereas Seitchman (our counterfeit PI/folklorist) repeatedly forces herself into things through obsessive research skills and a complete disregard for her own safety (and at one point an enthusiastic if unpracticed willingness to sword people). Though to be clear this was mostly amusing to me because it was absolutely never highlighted or commented upon.
This is probably the first book I’ve read that’s recent enough to be set during lockdown without really being a COVID novel, if that makes sense? You could set this the year before or the year after without really losing much, and it lacks the ‘this was written in quarantine’ vibe of a lot of books I read last year. But it definitely adds a sense of specificity and timeliness to it that I rather enjoyed.
So yeah, do not open it expecting anything like Children of Time, but good book!
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wyllsravengard · 6 days
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john in rdr1 is so special to me i feel crazuyzuzyszy
#z.gen#rdr1 john is just . so .#like hes like the best of himself embodied and hes so unbelievably duty bound to abi#he loves her so much. and he goes against everything for her and jack. the progression of stupid deadbeat#to worlds most loving and dedicated husband makes me sick#and it makes me feel so unwell that john in rdr1 isnt like arthur.#arthur is a good man. to me it makes sense that he is canonically intended to be moral and upright#mary linton even says so#but i dont think thats true for john. i dont think john is 'moral' as much as he is dutiful#nothing is his concern other than his wife and son and i loveeee that about him so much#i know a lot of people find this to be a fault and surely if you like more heroic characters arthur is much closer to it#but john is so. he is so.#theres something about the way he does anything to protect them that makes me weak#its not self serving like dutch nor is it moral like arthur#everything is for them. everything. every single thing.#he embodies in such a way that it makes me unwell. hes so morally gray but for them? he'd do anything and he does#i just . love how john is bound by duty and not morality#hes not particularly remorseful or good or upright#but he is painfully dutifully. to me because i think thats what he took from the sort of life arthur lead#even though i think arthurs goodness was truer. i think john realized that he isnt arthur#but he became the sort of man he could be and became someone who always paid his debts#and did whatever it took protect what he believes is family. whats important to him#when i think about how deeply his love is tied with loyalty and duty i just get sooo insane. like you dont even get it#and rdr1 john is soooo protective and kind to women and sooo hateful to men which helps#i think rdr2 john is so hateable but rdr1 john is like the most perfect man to ever exist and appeals to me#on a personal level more than arthur. like i just cant stop thinking about him#hes so like. attractive hngfmgkjdf#i can hardly play the game its sooo distracting to listen to him
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thedreadvampy · 7 months
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on the one hand, fucking shitty day, manager's back and fucking everything up even worse. asked her if we could meet up and debrief before tomorrow's shoot and make sure we have a coherent idea of what she wants to get out of the shoot and what's been agreed. which she ignored. bookending both her leaving and coming back from holiday with "please can you intuit exactly what I need from this project and convey it to a third party. no we don't need to have a conversation and you don't need any information." we have exchanged a single-figure number of sentences today somehow despite her originally expecting me to move two projects on in her absence with no guidance.
(I also sent her two documents to urgently sign off on ASAP specifically so I could get them to the filmmaker first thing. at 2pm the filmmaker, who has been talking with my manager, was like 'hey sorry to be a pain can I get those briefs' and my manager got back to her with a totally different set of partial info. I messaged her like hey sorry to be a pain did you uhhhhh see the briefs I drafted yesterday? and she was like 'oh yeah I glanced at them they look great'. I'm like COOL WILL I SEND THEM OVER THEN???? 'yeah go ahead thanks'. I am going to CHEW MY HANDS OFF)
HOWEVER this isn't a post about how shit my boss is it's an appreciation post for my friend and colleague L who like. He's kind of an enigma cause he doesn't really do emotional communication, I'm pretty sure we're pretty good friends but also all our conversations are very casual.
buuuut.
In the last 3 days since he had a brief meeting with me and saw how ill I still was, he has (without even mentioning it):
gone to my senior manager and asked to take on like half the tasks on my to do list so I don't have to worry about them
told my senior manager she needs to tell me to take breaks and work short days
told my line manager before I came in this morning that I seemed really unwell and she should make sure I wasn't taking too much on
moved a bunch of project meetings back a week to give me time to recover and catch up with myself
messaged me every day to check how I'm doing, told me he cares about and appreciates me and that nothing I'm doing is anywhere near as important as getting better
is fretting because I said I was a bit dizzy and keeps telling me not to fall and hurt myself (I think his boyfriend has some neurological issues so he's a bit sensitive to these kinds of worries)
idk I'm just really really moved by how much he's put into making sure I'm ok. he's not even in my direct team - we share a senior manager but he's fundraising and I'm comms - and he's at the same non-manager level as me so he doesn't HAVE to do ANYTHING but he's my FRIEND WE'RE FRIENDS HE CARES ABOUT MY WELLBEING 😭❤️😭❤️
every time I try to thank him he just goes 'it's literally nothing I hope you feel better'
this is like the most emotionally communicative I've ever seen him and it's the actual highlight of my week. our friends have been telling me for like a year that he talks constantly behind my back about how much he likes and appreciates me as a friend, but it's only every so often he lets the mask slip enough for me to realise how true that is. and it's really nice I'm so fond.
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jv · 7 months
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I know you aren't with Tumblr anymore but idk who else to ask. Why does tumblr make so many random changes AND never give any forewarning or a reasoning for why they made it, AND never give any data on the feedback we send or the results they get from those changes? I understand that tumblr doesn't make money so changes are necessary but it's the sudden changes with no warning or explanation combined with the fact that they ask for feedback and then ignore all of the feedback we send and never release anything related to that feedback we send in that gets to me and makes me not want to use tumblr and refuse to recommend it to friends.
Well well well...
this is a very difficult question to answer. Because... things... are complex.
I guess the gist of it is "the reality where a good part of the tumblr community lives is not the same reality that staff experience". Mind you, I'm not saying that Staff is oblivious or uninformed. Kind of the opposite. Staff manages a big extra layer of data we the users don't get access too. Things from "how long we have to achieve X or close" to "this change had very bad feedback but didn't make the usage numbers go down and it's bringing 0.03% more revenue".
There's a hard reality we tumblr users who like tumblr as-it-is need to start accepting: We are not making tumblr make money, so we are not going to be the 'client' here.
While I was in staff, we tried. We tried hard: Post+, the merch store, blaze, ad-free ... all those were attempts to make tumblr a platform funded by its community. The results were ... not great. Like, two orders of magnitude worse than they needed to be. That let tumblr in the hands of advertising money (that even if tiny compared with other sites, it still is the main Tumblr source of money by far). And for that, if you want to make the site stop burning millions per month you need way more people than we tumblrinas are right now.
Mix that with.. a certain disdain for tumblr as a platform from part of the top management. A big bunch of staff are hard-core users of tumblr who are more or less in tune with the feelings of the community, but in the upper management layers... there's only one or two persons I can think of that actually seems to like and enjoy tumblr. The rest of them are mostly users of other platforms in their personal lives, and ... they just don't get why tumblr is so hooking for some of us. They don't understand how it works, they don't understand the popular content here, they don't understand the people who already use this place.
Earlier this year I actually had a call with the CEO to try to explain him why tumblr was a great platform for a certain type of mindsets, how I have adapted to this boiling cauldron of feral goblins so quickly and become enthralled by it when I started using it four years ago. And I think I failed completely at trying to make him excited or even interested in either the site culture or its community. Or convince him that tumblr could expand vertically (bringing more tumblr-minded people in) instead of horizontally (broad the appeal of tumblr for the masses even if it dilutes the current essence).
So for management, it's just a game of numbers: The current tumblr community doesn't cover the costs of running the site, so they need a new community that does. And if in the process, some of the old community leaves forever, :shrug:, not a big loss, since they weren't making the company any money anyway. It's more important for them to get all those people leaving twitter or other platforms to actually come here and stay, and get those key metrics up up and to the right. Of course, this is just my personal opinion and I'm sure if someone send this post to those in management who I'm vaguepostingly mentioning here, they would be all "Of course we CARE about our community and tumblr's history!". But hey, you know you really don't.
"But Javi, isn't alienating the core community who creates most of the content in this platform a stupid and terrible idea in the long term?". Why, dear anon, of course it is. Or that's what I think. And that's what I ended arguing about again and again and again and again while I was part of staff. And that's, maybe, one of the handful of recurrent points where I wasn't "aligned with the direction of the company" that made me un-staffed (take that, tiktok kids!).
Why, then why tumblr management keeps pushing for this pace of rapid and alienating changes? Because Automattic, tumblr owner, is a private funded company. And there has to be smoke and mirrors showing that tumblr is actually moving fast and making the numbers go up up up. Every. Fucking. Quarter.
Do you know what's the most stressing time of the year for your random staff member? Is it eurovision with its peaks of traffic? april's fools with all the tomfoolery? No. It's the biannual Automattic board meeting. Because in every. single. one. of. them. we didn't know if that was going to be the day where tumblr's downsizing would be greenlighted. Literally, every six months the board would look at what happened at tumblr and say "ok, this is terrible but moving in a promising way, let's see if these things you are planning work and re-evaluate in six months".
Does this mean they are in the wrong and me and the people pushing to keep tumblr more tumblr were right? Well, no. Not necessarily. Tumblr has been under a very real existential thread for ... at least a couple of years. And the reality is that 'trying to monetize tumblr as-is' didn't work at all from a purely economic point of view, and tumblr wouldn't have survived for much longer without showing clear gains. So who knows, maybe by diluting tumblr they could manage to make it profitable and keep this site live for decades. I would be VERY happy to be in the wrong here.
At the end of the day, put yourself in staff shoes. You have been trying a lot of "sensible" things to try to make Tumblr sustainable. Your boss is reminding you that tumblr keeps losing money and setting dates for "lines of no return" where the company would need to deinvest on Tumblr if there is not a clear financial improvement. You know you are burning the midnight oil and the sensible changes requested by the community you have made barely had put you closer to the goal. So it's time to try the crazy stuff and see what happens. Yeah, maybe that makes the boat explode, but maybe it changes it enough to keep it afloat. The alternative is letting it slowly sink into the darkness.
So, as I warned at the start of the post, this is a very complex issue with a lot of factors involved. And of course, this is just my particular view on it, I'm sure other ex-staff members would see it in a different way. Staff members need to keep their voices 'aligned with the direction' so they don't get un-staffed, but I can tell you that a good bunch of them are in private slack channels saying things like what I'm saying here (hello friends from #********* and #******-****!). Some of them like the X change but hate Y. Others don't really care and are just doing their job and doing what their boss told them (which is a completely valid stance... this is a job).
So yeah, it's complex. Believe me, a lot of folks in staff listen to what the community says. Deeply. But right now I don't think management thinks that catering to the current community is a valid path. And given the constraints of time and money that staff needs to operate within, I'm not even sure it matters much.
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thebeautifulfantastic · 4 months
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hmmm lots of thoughts about romance and friendship and love tonight. like maybe my best friendship of seven years growing distant and making me realize i love her in a different way from how she loves me had to happen to teach me to let go and focus on internet friends who care about me enough to want to shoulder our burdens together. maybe shit had to hit the fan with The Boy and eliminate any chance of romance and maybe i had to struggle through a couple weeks of heartache and confusion to realize that maybe he wasn’t someone who would have made me happy in that way anyway, and maybe my love for him was never like That. maybe it took the ‘questioning my sexuality’ crisis that followed to make me realize that i don’t need a romantic relationship, maybe ever, because the lines have always been blurry for me anyway and all i really want is not to date, but have A Special Person, to be loved and known deeply. maybe i had to be painfully lonely for a while to realize what will truly make me Not Lonely. romantic and platonic labels be damned, it’s all just Love to me.
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justaboringcat · 8 months
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You ever read up on a reality show contestants life and go, "oh wow if I had even a line off that resume I think I'd be close to set for life".
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i remember seeing a post circulate around about how the old web had more visually interesting website design and how in modern days all fast food sites and stuff look the same and im just so baffled by it because i think back to all the times i wanted to order food from like local restaurants and then i would find their website and sure it would look more visually appealing than say the webpage of mcdonalds but i would inevitably close it in like 2 minutes without ordering anything because it would be so fucking cluttered i couldnt find any of the options i wanted to
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whoetoshaw · 4 months
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YES! | h. lewis
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summary: harry finally pops the question. [5.3k words]
pairing: reader x bog (W2S.)
notes: it’s the 1st of the month, why not? 🤷🏽‍♀️ part one of three potentially?!! mini wedding series, no?!! i coulda made this so much longer but we have other stuff to look forward to where i can hopefully provide some heart-exploding cuteness with our couple finally getting sappy in the new year! hope you enjoyed angels. don’t forget to reblog! <3333
HARRY NEVER WANTED TO GET MARRIED. Never. A wedding didn’t appeal to him, ever. In fact, a wedding was probably Harry Lewis’s worst nightmare.
Why? What was the point? What was the need? The whole idea of his wedding day just made him feel sick, made him angry, almost.
So much unnecessary shit. Why did he have to spend thousands for a start? For one day? On a venue, on his suit, on his bride’s gown and everything in between? Secondly, why did he have to invite hundreds of people? People he hadn’t spoken to in years? Obliged to come because they knew his mum, to what? Hold an awkward 10 minute conversation over how much he’d grown? Yeah, it fuckin’ happens. Thirdly, what was so fucking special about them? What did he get out of it, realistically? His last name didn’t change? He didn’t possess any better assets? He got a wedding band to wear for the rest of his days and he hated the feeling of jewellery, so really— why would he do it? Why would he torture himself like that? What was he proving?
“I don’t need go get the law involved to prove how much I love you. Is that not the creepiest fucking thing ever?”
He hated to sound like an utterly selfish man, but he did, he hated the thought of marriage. Growing up, the dirty-blond found it more and more unappealing the more thought he gave, and when asked his opinion upon having a big day for himself, he gave a loud, heavy, heartfelt “fuck that.”
But then he thought of who that day was meant for, who he shared that big day with, and suddenly—he didn’t feel so hostile towards the topic. 2014, the year his life changed forever when he set eyes on probably the most important thing in his life, the person he’d do anything for, the one that impacted his life like no other.
She never expected anything from him. She still didn’t ‘til this day. She didn’t expect love from that messy-haired teenager after that day she’d seen him outside school and she certainly didn’t expect herself to reciprocate it. Didn’t expect to last this long with him and be just as infatuated as she was, she hated his guts during those years, physically unable to stand him in those classes, going as far as even skipping the class when she knew she had that god-awful disruptive subject to attend with him in it.
But hey, wasn’t there was a fine line between love and hate?
Love wasn’t the word to use when it came to you and Harry Lewis. Love didn’t even cut it. But you were yet to come up with a better word, so love would do for now.
But it was so much more than just being in love with the other. It was something deeper, more than a soul connection. You just belonged together. You were made to be together. It was the way things were supposed to be, and 10 years together didn’t even feel like 10 years.
Was that all?
“—three year anniversary next, and woah. What a three years they been,” laughter picked up through the mic, “more like thirty,” the tatted man tiredly rubbed his eyes. “You, you been, what? Almost ten? Ten?”
“Yeah, yeah, only 10 years.”
“HA! ONLY! Don’t make me laugh!”
“What?” Harry looked amusingly opposite Ethan, the two carrying today's podcast for SidePlus. “Trust me, trust me; you get to that point where you go ‘. . just 10 years? Surely not,’” he looked to the cameras, flustered, caught slipping in front of his boys, “no it’s not long enough, man, it’s nothin’, that’s nothin’,” he casually tapped his fingers on the desk. “I mean . . it might not feel like it but it probably looks it,” he awkwardly laughed, “don’t know if I’m ready for her to see me all old and grey so soon,” he laughed with Ethan.
Ten years did feel like nothing. The pair of you breezed past them, they’d flew by in the blink of an eye. Well, there might have been a period where you went just a little over year of no contact, slightly headed on a path at different speeds, but Harry was able to salvage himself and meet you there once again, continuing the journey together for the rest of the trip.
And that year and five months might have felt like a lifetime apart at the time—but now, trying to think back to it, it felt like you’d just gone a week without each other. It was weird the way it worked.
He was your best friend, you were his, what more did you need to say? You would never love the way you did with him, and him? No one, not even his parents saw the Harry you got to live with.
The ten years were a breeze, and it couldn’t get any easier. With nothing to prove, the best step was to hit the next 10 years.
“Stunning. Literally the most beautiful ring,” you and the girls applauded and cheered for your girl, Talia to-be Minter on her engagement. “It suits you so much, it’s scary.”
“He did good, didn’t he?” She grinned, still in disbelief.
“Ethan wouldn’t have a clue what I’d want.”
“Yeah, I was very surprised with Vik, I didn’t think he had it in him, you know,” Ellie giggled, admiring her own ring as well. You sat amongst them, head on your hands, watching them dreamily, smile smacked across your face. You thrived off their happiness, unable to imagine how they felt.
Being with Harry was scary. It was scary because before him, you had your mind set straight, you had a check list with a deadline: engaged early twenties, at least married by 25 and a baby under a year later at most. Didn’t most people think like that? You loved the idea of being a youngish mum, but you also always wanted the ring before the babies.
But Harry . . . didn’t want to do either.
He wanted to live his life first, which was completely fair and valid, but it was scary how . . he just . . led you into feeling the same way.
Having kids was your ultimate dream, it was a deal-breaker in any relationship if they didn’t want that. You knew you always wanted to have a family to make and raise as your own, so you could follow in your Mum’s footsteps and recreate those precious memories with your own kids. Relive a little bit of your childhood again, with the person you loved, and know you’d have someone look after you when you were old and grey.
It was weird what Harry could do, because at times, this man had you questioning if you even wanted children anymore.
You’d just gotten sooo used to it being you two, you didn’t know if you could squeeze in another person to share him with. It sounded incredibly selfish and immature of you to think such things, but it wasn’t a lie, and Harry thought the exact same about you. You weren’t ready to grow up in that sense; lazy days, nights out and travelling abroad was all so easy when it was just the two of you. It just worked. You looked after each other and that was all you needed. You would take care of each other when you were old and grey.
If it weren’t for Harry mentioning he did in fact want kids, you wouldn’t have been surprised if starting a family was just . . something you forgot to do. Harry based his number off his dad’s age when he became a dad in his mid-thirties, and that was convincing enough for him. It annoyed you at first, thinking you might not be bothered at that age, but then you naturally grew used to letting time flow without a plan with no pressure. You accepted that you couldn’t follow a plan, after all, it’d gone tits up when the year you’d planned to get engaged — you weren’t even together.
You couldn’t script these things, you didn’t force them. You just accepted that . . you probably weren’t getting that wedding . . and . . you’re probably weren’t getting those babies until 35.
Maybe when you were 40, you might go to the registration office and exchange a couple vows, but the wedding venue Talia was talking about and the wedding dresses Ellie was showing you — they were so far out of your future, they weren’t in the equation. You may have been with Harry the longest out of your friend groups, but he would make you the last to get married.
“Do you want to get married?”
“I would like to get married, but I’m not in a rush. I guess the moment’s passed for me. I think I’m passed that point. We’ve already passed 10 years, like what . . I mean . . I mean why would we do it, you know? Is there even a point anymore?”
“There’s always a point! What are you on about?! You’re acting like you’re 40 and the time is gone!”
“I know but it’s too much effort.” You found yourself sighing, unconvinced.
“Is this you talking or Harry talking?” Faith raised a brow.
“Do you even know what type of engagement ring you want?” Talia squinted her eyes.
“No,” you laughed, not seeing how many girls you’d have gaping. Of course you didn’t, you didn’t look, because you didn’t think you were getting one anyway for decades to come, if at all! You didn’t know what shape you wanted, what size - what was the point? It just got you excited for nothing and Harry saw it as a joke he didn’t find funny. But you didn’t mind! You didn’t need to worry about a ring on your finger! The Fendi one would do now anyway. “I just . . just one with a diamond, I don’t know?!”
A rectangle maybe?
Talia facepalmed and Ellie hid her face to cover her little laughs. Faith was 2 seconds away from pulling out all the screenshots she had of the variety of rings she’d approve of, as well venues, dresses, and bouquets. “Babe, I have the song and everythin’ i’m walking out to.”
You laughed at her and could only hope that Ethan popped the question soon for her sake. Not you. You were chillin’.
But maybe the intro of Video Games would have been nice to walk out to . . .
Seeing your friends get engaged and plan their wedding, and then have the wedding, it was one of the most fulfilling things to witness as a friend. It was the same cycle: never any jealousy, just pure, genuine compassion, waiting for the next one.
You attended with the biggest grin on your face, heart bursting with happiness getting to witness your besties big days! Ahhh!
It would have been nice to get something like this one day, you thought from your guest seat.
It didn’t change overnight, but since his first wedding experience at one of his boys’ . . something switched in him. He saw things . . a little differently, he saw . . the meaning. The reasoning.
Most of all . . he saw your face. He saw that big, wide toothy grin, clasped hands, threatening tears when he glanced at you, looking the most excited person in the room. Grateful was the word, you’d never been so grateful to be invited to such an intimate day, such special occasion. Harry sat next to you in his formal attire, watching his friend’s live the best day of their life, not an ounce of fear or regret during their big day, and then to you, who couldn’t appreciate it anymore, knowing it was the closest thing you’d get to experiencing it yourself.
Maybe that was it.
Guilt hit him of course, he should have done that ages ago, and as shame began to pile on top of him, he remembered — he still had time.
Those tabs he found left open on your laptop, those pages in your history search for those type of rings . . they could have been worthwhile.
He . . he could do that, right?
He did want to marry you, he always knew that, the occasion wasn’t the issue, it was the ceremony and the anxiety that ruled him when he thought for it seriously for more than 2 minutes.
But talking to his friends, sharing his worries and hearing their opinion, he found he wasn’t so opposed to it as he used to be.
Marriage didn’t sound so bad. A wedding didn’t.
And calling you his wife? Referring to you as his wife?! Well, he was practically sold.
The next time Harry had one of his regular love spells, a moment of realisation of how obsessed he still was of you, an overwhelming sense of love and adoration for having a best friend in the woman he loved, that image came into his head stronger and stronger, became more appealing, ‘til it got to the point where yeah - Harry Lewis wanted to get married.
He wanted to do it.
He wanted to marry you.
No, he needed to marry you.
Months passed, more memories were made: whether it was sitting in your living room after doing the dishes or gossiping in the car on the way to work, whether when you were both loved up under the sun abroad in a hammock or singing karaoke, drunk, in his parent’s house on Christmas night - this idea had turned more into a desire than an idea.
The next wedding he attended, it only became more clear. The day was about his best friends, and all day he’d only thought and you and him, and how you would do it. He’d made it about you two.
You watched Vik and Ellie seal the deal with a kiss, and applauded with hoots and cheers, trying not to frown so hard at the happiness it filled you with. You wanted to squeeze them both.
Harry consoled you as always, giving your arm a rub as he pulled you into his side, keeping you together as he promised - holding up his deal of not letting you ruin your makeup. He smiled at your cute little emotions, making you smile because he made you feel silly for crying.
The thing that comforted you was knowing Talia and Frey were the same, crying as well just a row behind you.
More months passed. Wedding season was over. The next thing you were looking forward to was your next holiday. What was it? Your fifth? Sixth this year? You’d just gotten back from the Bahamas a couple months before, enjoying the scorcher sun and clear waters you had to cool down in on the daily – now you were unpacking the case of bikinis and sun hats and replacing them with hats, hoodies and gloves, packing for your trip to Amsterdam.
Amsterdam was a sweet place for you and Harry. It wasn’t the most extraordinary holiday destination, and nothing really changed over there, but you and your boy had a soft spot for it.
It was your first trip together, gone for four days after just a few months together, Amsterdam was a wholesome place for you two to be. It was just your city, and you felt obliged to visit her every couple years. You loved it, you found her as beautiful as the first time, as thrilling, and loved finding something new to do each time. The first time you’d done what you expected most people to do over there— smoke weed, visit sex museums and go out to clubs, but of course other things too: you visited at Christmas time and went to the Christmas markets, ate waffles and ice cream in the Summer and went on boat trips in the Spring. You saw the tulip fields, watched a match in the Johan Cruyff Arena and saw other museums that made it to your instagram , all of which were amazing . . . but nothing could beat doing Amsterdam how you were supposed to do Amsterdam: museums and tulip fields were cute but they’d never be as fun as walking the streets at night, high with friends, laughing and giggling at every giftshop you walked by to eventually end up at the Red Light District with more memories. Amsterdam was comforting because it took you back to those days when you first came here and how Harry had proved he’d look after you, clueless as to what life had in store for the both of you.
Besides, you had to go back regularly: you had to check up on your lock on Love Lock Bridge. Yes, you and Harry had done the cheesy thing of writing your names on the lock and clamped in between hundreds of others, but she still hung there, a little rusty and less noticeable as the years went on, but you were always happy to find her amongst the hundreds of others.
“Wait, I’ll find it in a minute,” Harry shoved more chips into his mouth as you stood at the bridge, eating your own cone of chips. He always beat you to finding it.
“I swear, if its been stolen–” you muttered, shoving the food into your own mouth. You knew it was highly unlikely to happen, but you always got that little panic in your chest when you couldn’t find your lock. You knew it wasn’t a big deal, she wasn’t valuable . . but, well, she was valuable to you. You always said if you found out they were stripping the bridge, you’d be straight over to collect your lock and bring it home, incorporate into your house decoration.
“My hand’s fuckin’ freezing, hold on!” your boyfriend complained, more snowflakes landing in his hair.
It was Winter time in the city, the canals frozen over with snow painting the grounds, it was the opposite weather from the last time you were here, but it was so worth it - seeing all the way it was lit up at this time of night with festive lights. It was your last night and then you’d say goodbye for another year or so.
“Did you eat your brownie?”
“No, I’m saving it for when we get back to the hotel,” he looked at you, following behind. “Is that alright with you, boss?”
You tutted, rolling your eyes, “shut up.”
He smirked cockily, watching you strut away from him, as always, sending him that little hot buzz. Any other time he’d continue to wind you up with ease, but truth be told — Harry was sweating all over, despite feeling like he was in the antarctic.
He knew you were on the opposite side of the bridge, your lock on the other side and slightly to the right from the centre, so he had until you both circled to the other end to finish his food, wipe down his hands, get a grip and pull out that little surprise he had kept in his pocket.
“I love Winter but I say this every time: I need a warm holiday after this,” you laughed, looking back at him. You were a fan of the scenery but not a fan of the cold. “Nothing beats a day in a bikini with jet skiing booked in the afternoon.”
“Tell me about it, I was beginning to miss those sharks we swam with.”
“You didn’t even go near them?”
“Shut up, y/n,” now he was the one tutting and rolling his eyes.
But it was true, you couldn’t beat a Summer vacation: minimum clothing, lathed in oil, drunk on cocktails, shagging on the hotel balcony.
Fuck, maybe he’d made a mistake.
Was that the better option? Was he better holding off until Portugal?
No. No, he had to do this now. This was sentimental. This was your guys’ little place.
Harry threw his wrapper in the bin, swallowing thickly at you steps ahead, he nervously scratched his leg, scared to go into the pocket.
Fucking hell.
He slowed in his steps, just watching you stroll aimlessly around, snow landing in your hair, your eyes starring out to the rivers, he could count your lashes from the side and spot the redness blushing on the tip of your nose.
“What time’s our flight?” You blinked, snowflakes irritably landing in your eyelashes. Your boots crushed against the light layer of snow, your breath appearing in the air as you spoke, ignoring the sounds of cyclists ringing bells to get people out of their way. It was quieter this time of year, not as many tourists, still a few, but much quieter, less havoc, less stoners. You still got some entertainment though, like now, smiling at the group of friends smoking next to the frozen canal, laughing away, making their own memories.
“Already itching to get home? You couldn’t wait to ‘sEe tHe sNOw’” your boyfriend mocked you, a finger jabbing your side ticklishly.
You didn’t know who he was mocking, looking like Rudolph with a red nose and an idiot with his thick, frosty hair out of control. And who was he poking you— your pet peeve! You pushed him away, “i’m not itching, I’m just . . we’ve done all our stuff and,” you defended, falling in step with him, “unless you’ve got anymore Christmas presents you’re wanting to buy me.”
“Fuck off, y/n!” He shoved you. You’d already dented his card walking through duty free on the way over here, the perfumes and drinks calling his name, telling him to nab them instead of waiting ‘til you were back in London.
You calmed from laughing, linking arms once again, you received a kiss on your head from him to tell you he was only joking.
His eyes were on the fence of your padlock, his hands tingling with nerves.
Keep calm, Harry, keep calm. Just keep going, don’t even think about it.
“What would you do if I launched a snowball at your head right now?”
“Do not even go there, I will fight you on this bridge! I will!” You warned, immediately twisting with caution, not having your back to him. “Move, now! I’ll fight you! I will throw you in that canal!”
“I–I would like to see you try, son!” He cackled , getting you defencless already as you tried to grab him, “I would like to see you—” the sound of your coats shuffled as he tried to fight the snow out of your hand, it crumbling in your hand and down his neck a little, he hooked his foot under your ankle and dropped you to the ground, laughs leaving you both, you screamed at him to get away. “SORRY! SORRY! SORRY!”
He only pretended to throw it, if he wanted to, he would have stretched out your hoodie and reached his hand all the way past your chest to nip with snow, but he didn’t, feeling merciful, he pulled you to your feet instead, laughing, your cheeks both red now with warmth, rather than the cold. “You’re a fuckin’ . .”
“A what?” He tilted his head up, pausing his actions of patting the snow off your back.
“Nothing,” you shook your head, smiling like an idiot. You didn’t even know what you were trying to say.
You walked the sides of the canal, approaching the other fence of locks. You grabbed a hot chocolate from the parked trailer beforehand too, inspecting the batch of locks with it in hand while Harry got his.
“I say this every time we come here but like once you do everything like, why do we come back?” You laughed, “it is boring wh—”
“—I been telling you that ever since!” He called from the van, leaning his head on his hand.
“It is better in a group,” you admitted more to yourself, missing Chip and Freezy and the others. Last time you were here, it was a madness. But it was still just as nice seeing the view in front of you, of the twinkling lights and light fall of snow, it added to the beauty of Amsterdam, and once again, you were left reflecting of your first time here, of the grainy selfies you took with Harry on this bridge on your iPhone 4s.
Harry found your lock under five minutes, picking it up with his hand for a moment, “there,” he said, letting you inspect it. As always, you looked at it with a weird melancholy / nostalgic feel to it, running your thumb over both your names you’d scribbled on with permanent marker almost a decade ago. You took a picture as always before observing others, none of them was a nice as yours, before going back to it.
Turning to ask your next question, you closed your mouth at the sight of Harry kneeling next you, and pulled your brows together.
You glanced at his shoes.
His shoelaces were perfectly tied together?
“What are you doing?”
You grabbed his arm to help him up, but Harry got down on one knee, and you were even more baffled, looking at the snow soaking into his joggers, “come on you moron, your knee!”
“Y/n—”
“Harry what are you doin’?” You began to laugh, leaving a hand on his broad shoulder, “get up? Hurry up!” you giggled.
He kept his eyes on you, beaming up brightly, smile as bright as the snow, he set his hot chocolate down with one hand and dug into his pocket with the other . . and your face dropped.
“Harry,” your tone lowered, eyes drowning with apprehension, with fear almost, “no, what are you doing?”
“Y/n.”
“Harry, get up.”
His hand pulled out the box, and you felt like your heart was about to explode. You became frozen, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to do, you shook your head and took a step back, not falling for it, “no, no, you’re not—” you tried to pull him up again, “get up now.”
“Y/n—”
“You’re not doing this to me!—” you cupped the back of his neck to urge him to get up, laughing in disbelief, hands shaking, “you’re—”
He took your hand off, a laugh leaving him, trying to assure you it wasn’t a joke but you were adamant - he was taking the piss out of you and going to embarrass you. “Y/n,” he stopped you, having to hold a hand out to keep you from pushing him over. He flicked the lid open with his thumb and your jaw hit the ground, “y/n will— will you marry me?”
You couldn’t even see him properly. You felt like you hadn’t heard him properly. Your eyes brimmed with tears, blurring your vision, your hand shaking at your mouth. Your whole body was trembling. Your lips quivered as you tried to focus on the blur that was the most breathtaking ring before you, sparkling in all its glory. You never knew what kind of ring you even wanted but seeing that one unveiled below you — it was everything you desired.
She, was huge.
She was not want you expected at all.
Harry’s fingers shook a little with it in his grasp, scared to touch it, he only looked at you as you stood frozen, tears running down your cheeks and your heart — your heart felt like it was literally beating out of your chest.
There was no way— there was no way this was happening!
Knuckles shaking, Harry grabbed your other hand and squeezed it, he hushed quietly, “you alright?”
“Yeah,” you croaked, snapping out of your daze.
With a sob trapped in your chest, your reply reminded you of the current situation, and you jumped almost, remembering you were yet to give him an answer. “Yeah! Yeah! Yes! I will!” you frantically nodded, somewhat smiling at him if you weren’t crying so much, but you couldn’t even explain the feeling. You were so bewildered. It didn’t even feel like happiness, it just felt like you were . . elevating. Your whole body was tingling. Like you were numb but in a good way. “YES!”
He felt like he could have lifted off the ground as well at the sound of your voice in your answer. At the sight of your face. At the happiness in the form of tears in front of him. His heart beat for you. If he could, he would’ve ripped it out and given it to you as well. As if he didn’t already know, you were the absolute cutest thing to grace his earth.
“Are you serious?” You croaked, watching him stand.
He plucked the ring out of its slot and snapped the box shut, reaching for your extremely shaky hand.
“Stop shaking,” he spoke softly.
Harry’s shook badly too, that he dropped it in the snow. “Oh fuck. Shit.”
You laughed, watching him pick it up meeting his eyes, still totally in denial, that this was a dream. Harry’s little smile stretched across his face as he held your hand in his, warmer from his stress of sweating, he held it still while slipping on the most beautiful stone you’d seen.
This ring was made for you.
You dropped your head at the metal slipping on your finger, crying into your hand, Harry pulled you into him with the back of your head and wrapped his arms around you, and you squeezed him.
You squeezed him tight, still crying like a baby for no reason while he held you with his heart bursting out of his chest, feeling as warm as ever.
“Stop cryin’! What are you cryin’ for you muppet?” He cooed, kissing your head repeatedly, waiting for you to pull away, but you stayed snug into his neck. He nestled his chin on your head, embracing the silence, letting you calm and take in the moment as he felt his insides melt to nothing.
He had never felt so at ease. So at peace, like something had lifted from his shoulders and been replaced with a small buzz of excitement and anticipation for what was next.
He swayed you both slightly after a minute, happy to hold you forever, “ . . . you’re my everythin’, don’t you know that?”
He began to ramble. He could feel the words slipping from his lips and there was nothing he could do about it. Withdrawing your head, you looked up at him with teary eyes, trying to wipe them away but he beat you to it. “You, were made for me. There is nothing I have never been so sure about in my life, other than the fact I need you to be by my side for it all,” he dramatically clamped his hands to your cheeks after. “You are my life, y/n. My world revolves around you. No one will be you. You get a certain part of me no one else does. The day I met you, I started to forget what my life was like before,” he confessed. “My life is split into three parts: before you, after you, and after getting you again . . . I don’t think we’re a coincidence, y/n,” he held your face lovingly, thumbs tucked under your chin, “I think some things are too strong to be a coincidence, and too strong to be kept apart.”
You tried to talk but your throat was choked in barbed wire, you couldn’t get the words out but he proceeded anyway. “Do you know how mad it is for us to be together? In this lifetime? To not only exist at the same time, to not just know each other but to love each other? Do you know how mad that is? A one in four trillion chance of being born and then a 0.001% chance of just knowing you? And we get to do that?” The math nerd in him came out.
Harry beamed at you, swiping his thumbs under your eyes to clear your tears, you felt like you could have melted right through his fingers in his warm grasp. You were speechless he shook his head, “no one will be able to knock the wind out of me like you do. Not like that first time, not like the second time . . . and probably not the third time when I see you walking down the aisle,” he smiled, feeling you hand lock onto his wrist.
“Harry,” your heart skipped at the thought.
“I consider myself the luckiest person alive having you in my life. I don’t know what I did to deserve that. I don’t know how I deserve live alongside you and do life with you, I don’t know what I did to deserve that but I don’t argue it too much,” his eyes locked on yours. You felt small beneath him but so so safe. “I was made for you. I never thought there’d be a person more accustomed to me so naturally. Y/n, you’d think I’m crazy if you could see yourself in my eyes. The things I think. The way I’m attracted to you in ways I–I don’t even understand,” he made you laugh, “I think of the things I would do for you and they scare me shitless but I—I love you so much, y/n. I . . I hold you closest to anything I’ve ever had in my life,” his grip on you tightened at the last sentence.
“You are for me, you’re mine. I’m not scared of anything that comes at me if you’re here, I’m never not ok when I know you’re here, I know I’m not a bad person if you’re here. I just know— I’m just meant to be with you, y/n, and God forbid anyone’s tried to snatch you away from me—” he shuffled, shaking you fake-possessively, getting you to laugh, “You are my bestest friend. I’d be lost without you, everyone knows it! I-I wouldn’t be me without you,” his lips brushed your own, “nobody likes me when i’m not with you.”
You couldn’t have looked at him more lovingly, devotedly, mesmerisingly, pursing your lips in thought, you were taken back by the man in front of you. Who even was this?
Surely this was not the same boy who bullied you every chance he got?
Who acted like you were a nagging old wife he came home to each day for the camera?
Who had downplayed any romantic feelings for you for years in front of friends and family?
Where was that macho man now, huh?
And who had turned him into this big, lovesick giant?
He would never know how much you loved him. How you felt the exact same way back but a thousand times more.
You pulled him down to your level, lips moulding together, you melted underneath him. Pushing harder against him, your lips feverishly against his, soft at the touch but hungry with passion, the warmth of his lips consumed you. “I love you so much,” you whispered, “a thousand times yes. In every alternative timeline, yes,” you chuckled, “I will marry you.”
His smile screamed content. Fulfilment. “I love you,” he nuzzled his nose next to yours, “. . . don’t know how I feel being a fiancé though, think I still want to be called your boyfriend.”
A weird dizzy feeling washed over you making you feel like this was still all just a dream. You actually felt lightheaded at that word.
Fiancé.
You had a fiancé.
You were a fiancé.
Ew.
You could feel his lips turning into a smile with them against your cheek, and you smiled against him too, tightening your arm around him, you looked at your finger and closed your eyes again, shocked it was still there and glistening.
“I don’t even call you my boyfriend, I just call you my Harry?” you rambled, still entranced by the rock on your hand.
Yeah, you couldn’t say fiancé, you might actually just faint.
You held his hair, appreciating his embrace, your favourite place in the whole world, before pulling away. Footed again, you placed a soft, lovingly kiss on his lips again. “Thank you.”
“S’alright,” he couldn’t stop smiling at you, “I’m sorry I took so long but,” he cockily raised a shoulder, “get to be a Lewis at last.”
“Oh my GOD!” you tried not to cry again. That didn’t even sound real.
A Lewis!
Finally! Finally you’d be a Lewis!
His hands snuck around your waist with a big grin on his face, you were almost off again! Bringing your hand to your mouth, his words made you blush! You just couldn’t believe he meant it. “Do you really want to marry me?”
Harry gave you the look you usually gave him, with his brows slightly furrowed and his head tilted, like when he did the most stupidest shit of said the most out of pocket sentence. “Yes? Why else would I ask you, you s—” silly bitch “—numpty?”
“I can’t believe you.” You glanced at the ring again, feeling like looking at it too long would make it disappear. It was truly the most stunning thing your eyes had set on and you couldn’t believe how perfect it was for you. “I can’t—I can’t even take this in.”
You had to be hallucinating, surely.
“You deserve it darlin’,” he kissed your cheek, breaking you out of it, “you deserve . . way more than just that,” he shook his head.
You tilted your head at him, utterly infatuated.
“I’ll always take care of you, in’ I?” His brow twitched giddily as he smirked down at you.
You cupped his face, lashes soaked with your tears, eyes looking as bright as ever, you wanted to eat him up, “you are the cutest person ever. I. Love. You.”
“I love you too,” he kissed you repeatedly, the warmth of your lips distracting him from the cold off the snow, “now stop crying and get the prenup signed.”
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yourusername --/--/--
never getting over it. EVER.
i love you @ wroetoshaw. oh i love you, i love you, i love you. ring or no ring, i was staying stuck to you anyway cus life without you, i cannot stomach. thank you for the best 10 years of my life, for being you and for loving me as i am. i love you endlessly my best boy. 🩵 you are my greatest prized possession and i can’t wait to marry you.
. . and see you in a dickie bow . . . and tell everyone i have a big sexy, scary husband they don’t wanna be messin with xxx
u know i’ll always take care of you. 🔐❤️
view all 25,828 comments
user AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH CHILDHOOD COMPLETE
user 😍😭😍😍😭
user oh he’s rich rich
user *oh he’s in LOVE LOVE
user NO WAY
faithlousiak CRYING XXXX
faithlousiak SO HAPPY FOR YOU WIFE XXX
faithlousiak MRS LEWIS PENDING XXX
yourusername *kelly-lewis xxx
user FINALLLLY BOGGO!!!!!
user used to pray for days like this
user mans heard mount was single again
user MY ROMAN MF EMPIRE!!!!!!!!
user w2s had a gf??????
user CANT STOMACH A LIFE WITHOUT YOU IM— 🥲🤧🥲🫠
mollymae congrats beautiful!!! 💛 xxx
chridmd10 my guys ❤️
stephen_tries make sure you get that prenup sorted mate, she’ll drain you dry🫡 congrats guys ❤️
user CRYING
user oh she belongs to HIM
user that ring is a fucking JOKE
sidemen some things are meant to be ❤️ (brb we have a video or two to delete)
taliamar look at the SIZE OF IT!!!! 🤍 congrats my babies 🥹🥹🥹
user shaking crying throwing up
behzingagram YES BOSS!! ❤️❤️❤️
user oh my man dropped bagsss at the jewellery store 🤑🤑
user blood bought that on the sidemen card
vikkstagram YES GUYS ❤️❤️
user YES YES YES, WROETOSHAW WEDDING 🤩
user my greatest prized possession— bitch better be talking about the ring 🤮 y/n you you’re never allowed to be this romantic again!!!
user NOT FAMILIAR WITH THE WORD VOMIT ON THE GRAM GO BACK TO BULLYING HIM!!!
sabinablair_ 🩷💛🩷💛🩷💛
theburntchip prayers for the rest of us 👍🏼
user ain’t no WAY
zoe_sugg congratulations! xx 💗
calfreezy i’m not ok.
r0sielewis ANSWER FT NOW.
user harry ‘sidemen 10 years-10 shmeres, who gives af, time isn’t real’ lewis is also harry ‘10 years gone too fast, i’m not ready for her to see me all old and grey, 10 years felt like 10 seconds’ lewis 🥲
user YES HAROLD
user boulder 🥵
user what is the point of living if i’m not gonna be at the wroetoshaw wedding? seriously 🥲🥲🥲
user prayers to y/n w that thing weighing her down every day 🙏🏼
tobjizzle biggest congrats to the happy couple ❤️ BOG WEDDING INCOMING! ☝🏾
freyanightingale MY BABYYYY 😭😭😭 IM SO UNBELIEVABLY HAPPY FOR YOU <33333 💘💖💓💗💝💞💘💕
user im actually balling.
zerkerr congratulations gang ❤️
user WROETOSHAW?!!!!
ksi ❤️❤️
user me sleeping peacefully at night as a Yn2Shaw fan knowing i’ll never wake up to divorce rumours 😴
miniminter congrats guys! ❤️❤️
user definition of soulmates 👏🏼 MEANT TO BE
user comfort couple ❣️
user their wedding is will out do all weddings
yourusername posted to their story!
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wroetoshaw posted to their story!
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slyandthefamilybook · 3 months
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so this is something that's been on my mind for a while. I wish I could make a big magnum opus post on it but I don't have the energy
I've noticed in my travels that antisemitism seems to be one of the only forms of bigotry that's not self-evidently wrong. People may think they think it is, but I don't think they do. Every time antisemitism comes up as a topic, I see Jews sharing posts with twin explanations: one on why something is antisemitic, and one on why that's a bad thing
I've seen this a lot, and have fallen into it myself, although recently I've been trying to stop. On a post about Bibi changing his last name to "sound more indigenous": "Imagine if someone said this about Black people". On a post blaming Jews for what Israel does: "Imagine if someone said this about Chinese people". On a post accusing Jews of owning too many industries: "Imagine if someone said this about Asian people".
There was a post that went around claiming the IDF harvested the organs of Palestinians with very little evidence. (There are some great posts debunking that but that's not what this post is about.) I remember looking through the comments and one of them stuck out to me. I can't remember the wording exactly, but it went something like: "Israel heard about blood libel and thought why don't we just do that?". Ignoring the fact that blood libel is about the accuser, not the accused, this comment played over and over in my head. I thought about it as I went to sleep that night. Here was a person admitting that the thing they were saying has a strong resemblance to blood libel, but saying it anyway. It struck me that the underlying thought here was "it's not blood libel if it's true".
Once I realized that, I was stunned. I suddenly heard right-wingers in my head saying "it's not racist, it's just a fact that on average Black people have a lower I.Q.". And suddenly everything clicked into place. I know it might seem like an elementary idea, but it genuinely had never occurred to me
In the eyes of bigots, racism protects power. Antisemitism protects truth.
I've often said that all conspiracy theories eventually lead back to the Jews, and this newfound realization fit in nicely. A popular neo-Nazi slogan I've seen recently is "the goyim know". This idea that Jews have something to hide has saturated the political spectrum
Antisemitism is itself a conspiracy theory.
I realize that makes it sound like I don't think antisemitism is real. That's not what I'm saying, it absolutely is. But the way people talk about it is unlike how they talk about any other form of racism. The Jews are a shadowy cabal, who meet in secret to deplatform people who dare speak out against them. This is something we see on the right and the left, from Kanye accusing the Jews of destroying his career, to leftists accusing the "Zionists" of controlling social media.
Spouting antisemitism now becomes a moral good, a political necessity. It's the most important thing in the fight for truth
I understood then, why people on the left are so comfortable calling out accusations of antisemitism as "frivolous", "unserious", "over-used". How they think people are using antisemitism to silence them. You can't just say something is antisemitic and walk away. It won't stick. You also have to sit there on your computer for the next 2 hours, looking up sources to debunk their claims. You have to appeal to the truth. With any other form of bigotry, it's understood by leftists that whatever the facts may be, they don't excuse racism. The number of Black Americans who commit crimes doesn't justify saying Black people are all criminals. The number of First Nations people who own casinos doesn't justify playing off that stereotype. But when it comes to the Jews, it's open season. You can say anything you like about the Jews, as long as you think it's true. Being told that it's antisemitic isn't enough.
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This is a great example of just that. "Yes it's antisemitic, but it's also true." The accusation of antisemitism becomes an accusation against the truth. So when it comes to people who really believe in what they're saying, it all just bounces off. This is why people never seem to learn. They hop from conspiracy theory to conspiracy theory. As long as someone assures them it's all true, the bigotry doesn't really factor. They apologize not when confronted with their own racism, but when confronted with the facts.
In this way, antisemitism has become baked into society, especially Christian societies. Because why wouldn't it? Yes, the Jew is greedy, yes the Jew is sneaky, yes the Jew is bloodthirsty. But the Jew is above all a liar. They lie about their names, their culture, their history, their victories, their defeats
I wish I knew how to end this post. Some sort of call to action, some idea of how to fix this going forward. But I have no idea. I suspect if I did, we might not all be quite where we are right now
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canuck-eh · 9 months
Text
Loose Morals
MINORS DNI
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Younger!Fem!Reader (college student)
Summary: You and Jack have been friends for two years when you start having hot dreams featuring his father. Unfortunately, Mr. Hotchner happens to be just your type...
Tags: age gap, daddy issues, migraines, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, implied daddy kink, daddy kink if you squint, praise kink, Jack isn't necessarily a good friend, trauma bonding in a way, masturbation, smut, fluff, etc.
Word count: 11.2k
A/N: I wanted to take a break from editing Vanilla Twilight by writing a short one-shot. The thing is, I don't know when to shut up... Anyway, this ask and this pic inspired me, and I opted to write an entire fic around them. I just really needed to write smut after all the fluff and angst these past few times. I hope you like this one!
Being Jack Hotchner's best friend had its perks.
For one, he was honest and kind, and he was simply different than the rest of the guys your age. 
Honesty had always been at the core of your friendship, through your first two years of college, you’d not only found a friend in him, but a brother. 
You weren’t sure he saw you as his sister, but you didn’t care. He was still your family. 
You were the first person he came out to, and he was the first person to whom you had admitted you had major daddy issues (which you still believed had been caused by not having a father around growing up). 
Considering your mother had punched out when you turned 18, Jack was without a doubt the most important person in your life even if you weren’t the most important person in his life. 
But being Jack’s best friend was sometimes a curse.
A sharply dressed, tall, and broad man disguised as a curse, that is. 
Jack had an incredibly handsome dad, and to make matters worse, Mr. Hotchner was exactly the type you went for when you needed company.  
Jack knew you had slept around with older men, he knew what your type looked like, yet he had never once mentioned his dad fit that pattern to a T. 
Of course, you knew Mr. Hotchner was off-limits. You’d never try anything, you’d never do anything to jeopardize your friendship with Jack. But you couldn’t help how your eyes lingered on Mr. Hotchner sometimes, and it didn’t hurt anyone to just look. 
You could control yourself, but forbidden things always had an extra appeal to them, didn’t they? 
It was why, very early on in your friendship, you had reached an unspoken agreement with yourself: You would never spend the night at Jack’s house and you would avoid being alone with Mr. Hotchner at all costs. Thus, when party season was in full effect, you never drank to make sure you could drive yourself home after dropping Jack off. 
Ironically enough, Jack loved having you around even more during that time because since you didn’t drink when you went partying, you could always be the designated driver. 
Tonight had been no different in that regard, but a recent breakup had made Jack miserable and he had ended up drinking way more than usual.
Bringing him home was something you were happy to do, and each time you did, Mr. Hotchner thanked you profusely for bringing Jack home safe.
Each time, you tried not to make a fool of yourself, and you smiled and left without adding anything. 
Truth was, even tired beyond words, Mr. Hotchner was extremely handsome. He was so effortlessly beautiful that you didn't trust yourself not to say something incredibly stupid to his face, and thus you actively chose not to talk to him alone when you could avoid it. 
Sure, you could engage in small talk when Jack was awake and responsive, but when he was nearly passed out drunk, you did your best to avoid Mr. Hotchner.
There was something about the way his eyes bore into you that you couldn’t deny you liked, but you often explained it away by reminding yourself that Mr. Hotchner looked at everyone like that, with intense fixed gazes that could remind you of every wrongdoing you had ever committed.
Nothing you had tried had ever stopped you from blushing when you felt his eyes on you, and your high-pitched nervous laugh was only deafened by you chewing your cheeks furiously each time Mr. Hotchner said something nice to you.
You were positive Mr. Hotchner already thought you were a nutcase, or at the very least, that you were too shy and awkward to function properly when you were around him. 
So, whenever you could, you avoided him out of self-preservation. 
You had had to start evading him more in the past weeks when recurring sex dreams featuring him had started invading your nights. 
It didn’t help that you were convinced that he was a sex god walking on two delightfully long legs. It didn’t help that you were sure that he had two muscly thighs that surely showed how he ran every other morning. 
You had seen Mr. Hotchner sweaty and breathless only once, with his chest heaving big breaths that drew your attention to how deliciously large he was, and you had risked a glance at his whole body, licking your lips at the sight of his hairy legs, instantly concluding that coming over to study before noon wasn’t going to happen again for the sake of your sanity. 
From that day, you had started having torrid dreams about grinding down on his damp thighs, dreams which had startled you awake and kept you on the verge of climaxing. Each time, you had woken up too worked up to care, and you had brought yourself to orgasm with only a few flicks on your clit before you screamed his name into your pillow. 
It wasn’t right, but it was the only thing that did it. You had tried thinking of other things, you had even tried watching porn, but nothing worked except thoughts of Jack’s dad. 
While it was great to be living alone because it meant that whenever the urge was too strong, you could get yourself off, it also meant that you had absolutely no control or restraint since nothing satisfied your incessant hunger for him, since nothing could scratch that particular itch… 
You had managed to break two magic wands in the past three months, so you never stayed home too long when you had nothing to do, too afraid you’d turn into a sex addict.  
But then there were the other dreams you were having, dreams way scarier than having Mr. Hotchner get you off. 
Those dreams, dreams in which you shared a whole life with Mr. Hotchner, were your favorite. Yet, they were also heartbreaking because once realization hit you, once your mind was clear enough, you knew it would never happen, that it could never happen, and that hurt you a little more every time.
You had had so many dreams in which domesticity was the norm, in which you danced around the kitchen to great tunes while cooking together, in which his arms wrapped around your waist as his chin rested on your shoulder, as he hummed and squeezed you into a tight embrace, as he turned you around to kiss your forehead before he told you how much he loved you.
Your longing for him had only intensified in the past weeks as vivid fantasies muddled your mind, and you had had to escape any situation where you would find yourself talking to Mr. Hotchner even when Jack was around just to make sure Mr. Hotchner wouldn’t suddenly realize that every waking thought you had included him. 
Mr. Hotchner probably knew most of the signs of attraction. Having been a profiler for the greater part of his life before he got a steady desk job meant that he was talented at observing, and you knew for a fact that he was brilliant and astute. You often chose not to dwell on those facts, instead, you averted your gaze so he wouldn’t read behind your eyes, so he wouldn’t magically deduce how detailed your imagination could be, as if he could know from a quick glance how you had envisioned him around you in every possible position and scenario. 
You focused on Jack in the backseat, his blond hair ruffled by the wind coming in through the cracked window. The car smelled like alcohol and bad decisions, and your heart dropped in your chest when you noticed Jack shaking, hearing choked sobs every few seconds. 
Fortunately, while you attempted to find the right words, he slumped and grew quiet. 
The way it usually went when you brought him home was, you got Jack inside with your spare key, you dropped him on his bed upstairs before you left without making a sound.
But Jack was way drunker than usual, and you weren’t sure you’d be able to make him walk up the stairs by yourself. He was in no state to get himself up the stairs either. 
You tried to talk to him to gauge if you could shake him awake just enough to get him up the stairs once you reached his house, but he just muttered strings of syllables.  
The closer you got to his house, the more you realized you’d need help bringing Jack upstairs. 
He was still mumbling things that made no sense, and you admired how the car ride didn’t make him throw up because he made no effort to hold up his head as he slouched in the back seat. 
You chastised yourself for not asking someone to tag along to help you with Jack because now you would have only one option, and you weren’t sure you wanted to wake him. 
It didn’t matter what you wanted, though. Jack was your family. You’d do anything for him.
Reluctantly, you asked Siri to call Mr. Hotchner.
He picked up on the first ring and you were relieved that perhaps you hadn’t woken him up by calling at this hour. 
“Hi, sweetheart. Is Jack okay?” he muttered sleepily. 
Shit. Maybe you had woken him. 
Mr. Hotchner often called you ‘sweetheart’ but at this time of night with a husky voice? If this wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever heard… 
You berated yourself for being distracted, intently focusing on the road and what needed to be done.
“Hello, Mr. Hotchner. Yes, he is. He’s just too drunk for me to bring him upstairs. Can you come down and help?” you asked, keeping your voice as even as you could.
“Of course. ETA?”
You looked around as you put on the turn signal. “I’m turning on your street.”
“Good. Thank you.”
You hung up just in time to park, getting out of the car swiftly to try to bring a clingy Jack out of the backseat.
Mr. Hotchner joined you before you even noticed he was outside, and a hand on your shoulder made you move back from trying to pick up Jack. 
“I got him. Just help me when we get to the stairs, okay?”
You nodded. 
It was all you could do because the sight of Mr. Hotchner in pajama pants and a tee shirt was apparently enough to bring your cerebral functions to a halt. 
You were unable to comprehend how his hand had even ended up on you and how you could still feel the imprint of his palm on your skin.
Mr. Hotchner grunted from the effort it took to pick up his son, and you did your best not to memorize the sound for later use. 
You shut the car door and followed him inside, taking some of Jack’s weight off Mr. Hotchner’s shoulders as you both brought him up the stairs and into his room. 
You removed Jack’s shoes as Mr. Hotchner brought the covers over his son’s frame, and you tried not to think about the fact that you made a great team to get Jack into bed so efficiently. 
Mr. Hotchner placed a gentle hand on Jack’s shoulder, smiling a little at how unresponsive he was. 
Clearly, he found the situation relatable and you wondered if Mr. Hotchner had ever been this drunk when he was Jack’s age.
You found it endearing to see how a good father could be so loving to his grown-up son, and even if it hurt that you had never gotten that, you still loved seeing it when it happened. 
“Goodnight, bud.”
You didn’t want to intrude so you made your way out of the room just in time for Jack to mutter under his breath something that made you flinch and stop in your tracks. “I fucking hate you, Dad. It’s your fault Mom isn’t here.”
The room was dark, but the silver sheen of the moon glimmered enough that you could make out most of his frozen features. You saw Mr. Hotchner recoil and you heard his breath hitch. 
It was fair to assume his face had probably contorted into a deep frown as you witnessed his arm going up, his palm meeting his forehead. 
You knew the story. But you also knew Jack didn’t blame him. He never had. He had always said his father was his hero. You had heard him ramble on and on about how proud he was, and he had almost given you a formal presentation to celebrate him and every achievement of his. Every time he spoke about his dad, his eyes sparkled with joy, and getting to know more about how extraordinary Mr. Hotchner was had never helped lessen your deep-seated infatuation with him. If anything, it only magnified it.
So why was Jack saying this now when his dad had always been his role model?
Had he been lying to you this whole time?
You debated saying something, but in the end, you and Jack constantly called each other out on your bullshit or whenever you were out of line, and this time, he was clearly out of line. 
For all Mr. Hotchner’s faults, you knew he was loving and present, and Jack shouldn’t take that for granted. You certainly wouldn’t.
“Jack, what the fuck?” you snapped. You clenched your jaw to abstain from scolding him, it wasn’t your place, but you wanted to bark at him to apologize. 
The cold glow shone and lit the room just enough, making it easy to see how Mr. Hotchner’s shoulders dropped, and the silent shock that plagued the room made his bleak expression all the more distressing. Luckily, before you could question your next move, he turned his back so you couldn’t scrutinize how pain stained his gaze. 
Jack turned towards you, baring his teeth. His glassy eyes and his jutting chin betrayed a rooted but still gaping wound, sadly mixed with an obscure and previously undisclosed fury. “This is a family matter. Leave,” he snarled.
Jack had never once said anything of the sort to you, and to have him belittle your importance so freely hurt you profoundly. 
He was your family, but perhaps he was right, you weren’t his. 
You left the room before your vision got too blurry to walk out, and you heard harsh whispered tones before you went down the stairs. 
You wiped your eyes and were halfway out the door when a firm hand grasped your arm and brought you back inside swiftly. 
Your face met a firm chest and you knew who it was before you could try to hide your tears, and you didn’t care about anything other than comfort right now.
It occurred to you that Mr. Hotchner was probably seeking some comfort too, after all, it couldn’t have been easy hearing his son tell him that. 
Your arms encircled his softer middle section naturally, and you banished the thoughts that started to emerge. His tummy was a part of him you longed to cherish in your most lucid dreams, but it was unfair to bask in the sensation of his tall build covering yours because this was simply two sympathetic bruised souls engaging in friendliness. 
You shut your eyes for a second, trying to breathe in and out, hoping the pain would subside. 
“He didn’t mean any of it. He just gets like this sometimes,” he said softly.
You slightly moved away from the hug, still holding on but barely, aware it wasn’t appropriate for you to indulge too much. 
You looked up into Mr. Hotchner’s eyes, and his distant stare and set jaw made your heart ache. 
He was hurt. He was holding it together, but he was evidently tormented by trauma, and his tense stance wordlessly confirmed that some invisible wounds lurked and continued to run deep.
His gaze softened all at once as it met yours.
“He loves you. He always says you’re his hero. He even told me he never once blamed you for–” 
A tentative hand came up to cradle your cheek, and a flick of his thumb picked up a few stray tears. “Sweetheart, even if he hates me, I’m his dad. I’m always going to love him.”
You forced a smile as tears welled up in your eyes. 
You truly admired the father before you, and as much as you felt crushed that Jack didn’t consider you important, you could almost forgive him because it had led to this soothing closeness.
“Are you okay?” he fretted with genuine concern in his voice. 
You suddenly realized how close he was, how he hadn’t loosened his hold on you when you had. 
You could feel how strong he was every time he breathed, you could smell his aftershave and detergent, and a blaring thought reared its ugly head; his scent and his presence made you feel more at home than anything else ever had. 
You couldn’t entertain that thought. 
Not now, perhaps not ever. 
You moved back, hugging yourself as a chill ran over you. “I’m fine.”
Mr. Hotchner frowned, but he didn’t push it. 
Truth was, you weren’t emotionally equipped to deal with any of this. 
Jack and Mr. Hotchner would have to be on the back burner for a few days, and you would have to go home to lick your wounds before you would even consider talking to Jack again.
You turned away, opting to leave before you did or said something stupid, but again, a firm hand grasped your arm before you could escape.
“You’re not driving anywhere at this hour and in this state,” he protested. 
Fuck.
"I'm just going to sleep in the car," you explained, knowing it wouldn’t work but nonetheless hoping it would.
As if he sensed your discomfort, he released your arm and held his hands up in front of him. 
"Just take my bed. I'll take the couch."
Sleeping in his bed? Sleeping where he slept? Sleeping where his scent would overwhelm you? 
Considering how often you had dreams about him…
You knew danger zones. And this was one. 
Hell, no.
"Oh, no. It's fine, Mr. Hotchner. The car seat reclines–"
He chuckled, startling you with the unexpected sound. "When are you going to stop calling me that? We’ve already talked about this. You make me feel old."
"You're not–"
A small lopsided grin graced his face, and the sight reassured you on the spot. “You can either stay the night or you can finally tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.”
“I’m not–”
He quirked an eyebrow, and you should have known the profiler would notice you avoiding him at all costs when you used to talk to him a lot more, even if most of the time Jack was present, you still used to interact with him more frequently than you did now.
“It’s nothing you did,” you stressed.
He gave you a tight-lipped smile at that. "Come on. Get some rest. I'll wake you early in the morning if you really want to leave before Jack gets up."
You knew there was no saying no to him, so you nodded and made your way towards the stairs.
You knew where his room was because there weren't many rooms upstairs, and Jack had made you visit the entire house early on in your friendship.
"Goodnight," he breathed as you trodded up the stairs. 
"Goodnight, Mr. Hotchner."
You walked into his room and looked down at yourself. Sure, a summer dress would be fine to sleep in, but if you closed the door and slept in your underwear, no one would know.
You discarded your dress before you lay down in the middle of the most comfortable bed you had ever been in. 
You shut your eyes, smelling Mr. Hotchner all around you as you had a bit earlier. 
It didn't take long for you to find restful sleep, and it took even less time for your mind to drift off to thoughts of Mr. Hotchner.
You were in the throes of the hottest sex dream you had ever had, so close to reaching your peak untouched as you woke up with a glaring pain behind your eyes and at the base of your skull.
Oh, shit.
You were no strangers to migraines. You had had them for years, but getting one when you were far away from your meds, and in someone else's home, someone else's bed... 
Someone's bed. 
Right. 
You had just been dreaming about that particular someone going down on you.
Great.
You needed something for the pain and you knew where the ibuprofen was, so you tip-toed down the stairs, making your way to the main bathroom.
You were trying to look through stuff in the dark when the light was turned on, instantly stilling your movements.
"I'm just– I have a migraine," you stuttered before he could ask what you were doing in his medicine cabinet.
Mr. Hotchner wasn't frowning, and he didn't look unhappy you had woken him up in the middle of the night again, but as soon as you shared the reason why you were awake, he furrowed his brow with concern.
Then he looked up and down at you.
Shit. I'm in my underwear.
Mr. Hotchner raised an eyebrow as he smirked, removing his tee shirt and offering it to you so you could feel less naked.
His gaze made you feel more naked than anything you could wear or not wear.
He was such a gentleman that he gave you his shirt even if he was the one who ended up half-naked next to you.
Well, better him than me.
You put it on and Mr. Hotchner just waited until you cleared your throat to let his gaze fall back onto you.
You tried not to look at his bare chest or at the scars you knew were there.
You failed within seconds, but you had enough decency to make an effort to keep your eyes locked on his face.
"I'm sorry about your migraine, honey. What do you need?" he uttered in a soft hushed tone. 
You shrugged, taking two pills from the bottle before looking away and down at your feet. "Cold compress? I don't know."
Mr. Hotchner offered you a glass of water before he moved around you to wet a cloth with cold water, and instead of giving it to you, he just took your hand and made his way to the couch. 
He sat with you, facing you with his legs crossed. Somehow, he looked younger sitting like this, waiting for you to join him. 
"Put your head here," he said, gesturing to his lap.
You had no idea what to do, but you were in pain and emotionally unstable, apart from being sleep-deprived, and you would never turn down an opportunity to be close to him under those conditions because your judgement was certainly impaired. 
You lay down your head in his lap, looking up at him looking down at you. 
He placed the cold compress on your forehead, making you sigh in relief as your eyes fluttered close. Gentle hands started massaging the back of your neck, your temples, and your scalp, making you shudder as he pressed on spots where the pain stabbed and blinded you. 
For his apparent rough exterior, Mr. Hotchner had a very tender touch, and you wondered in what world it was okay for you to know that.
"How's that?" he pondered.
Your tense shoulders went limp as you relaxed even more, his fingertips rubbing your nape expertly. "Really good," you purred.
You were at his mercy, lax and drowsing in his lap unashamedly. 
“I used to get migraines and tension headaches at your age. You know, law school was–  I used to be permanently stressed out, living my life on high alert.”
“You?”
“Yes. Why is that so surprising?” he asked.
You opened your eyes to meet his, watching him wait for an answer. 
“Don’t get me wrong, Mr. Hotchner, but you just look like the kind of person who has it under control all the time,” you stated.
He looked pensive for a split second, but he resumed massaging your temples, removing the cloth and folding it the other way around before putting it back on your skin. He was apparently making sure it remained somewhat cold enough to provide relief. It was a small thing really, but it spoke volumes that he cared enough to do that.   
“Not all the time–” he said calmly. “Anyway, I wished I had someone take care of me when I was– and I didn’t so…”
What about your wife?
You let that go as soon as it echoed around in your head. It wasn’t any of your business why Mrs. Hotchner didn’t take care of him when he wasn’t feeling well. 
To be fair, you’d always thought marriage was about finding someone you wanted to take care of. Someone for whom you’d cook soup, someone whose tummy you wanted to rub, someone to hold, someone to pet your forehead when you’re feverish. But that was perhaps the daddy issues talking.
He picked up the TV remote, and he offered it to you. 
“Do you want to put something on while we wait for the pills to make you feel better, honey?”
You nodded. “Let’s just keep it low.”
That was mostly for your sake rather than Jack’s since he would have deserved to be woken up by a movie blasting in the living room, considering.
He seemed intent on letting you choose so you settled for something corny that wouldn’t require you to focus. You selected The Fault in Our Stars since you had already seen it and you were certain you would be able to follow the story without having to think.
You decided to move before you dozed off in his lap, but Mr. Hotchner just held you down as he stretched his legs on the sofa, leaving you with some leeway to find a comfortable way to lie down while still keeping you close. You shifted on your side, hugging his leg as your face rested sideways on his firm thigh. It allowed you to see the TV while still feeling his warm hand palming your scalp. 
You removed the cloth from your forehead after a while, and Mr. Hotchner took it from you before he set it down on the coffee table.  
You pretended not to feel him tremble when the movie took a sad turn, and as his hand came up to wipe his eyes, you had to shut yours to avoid getting tempted to offer to lick his tears away. 
You also had to compose yourself because knowing Mr. Hotchner was the kind of softie who cried at sad films only made your longing more acute. 
Having your head on his leg was enough of a treat as it was. You just had to reel it in and keep a tight lid on whatever it was you felt. 
Your plan to compose yourself with your eyes closed completely backfired when you realized you had fallen asleep. 
You woke to soft whimpers and a bulge protruding near the side of your head, right before you realized your name was being moaned. 
Repeatedly. 
You opened your eyes to find Mr. Hotchner asleep in a way that would surely hurt his neck, and he was rock hard next to your head, moaning your name as if chanting it like a prayer.
It's just a dream. It doesn't mean anything.
You turned on your front to fully see what was poking at your head. The tent in his pajama pants was huge, and the flimsy material of his pajama pants did nothing to hide the fact that he was big.
You salivated at the sight, incredibly aware that everything you wanted was within reach.
A particularly throaty moan escaped his lips and this time, when you looked up, he was frowning at you.
You got down on your knees in front of him, making him turn to follow you, letting him plant his feet on the ground, and you weren't sure how to proceed from there but the man had just moaned your name and followed your move on instinct. 
He was sporting an impressive erection, and you wanted. 
How you wanted.
It didn’t take much but you were done questioning it.
You smiled softly, deciding to bend down and mouth at his clothed cock. 
If he really didn't want this, he would have tried to hide, he would have moved, he would have been embarrassed, he would not have been moaning your name, and simply put, he would stop you.
Instead, the second your lips were around his clothed hardness, his hips jerked up into your face and he groaned loudly.
You were thankful Jack was passed out drunk because surely, this would have woken him up.
"Are you sure you want this?" he hissed. 
You just mouthed at his dick with more conviction, making his eyes roll back in his head.
His hands ended up at the back of your head, pushing your face infinitely closer.
“I knew from the second I saw you that you had raging daddy issues. Are you about to prove me right, sweet girl?”
You were putting a wet spot on his pajama pants, trying to taste him through layers of clothing. You placed both your hands on his thighs, sinking your fingernails into his hard flesh. Your fingers dug through the material as your mouth moved on him, but you wanted so much more than this. 
“Mr. Hotchner–”
“You’re always so formal–” he tutted. He put a tender hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb on your soft skin. “Maybe one day, I’ll have you calling me by the right name.”
You let your hands roam on his bare chest as you continued to wet his pants with your saliva, trying so desperately to get some friction as you started rutting on his foot. 
Mr. Hotchner stopped you, palming himself through his pajama pants.
“Please, Mr. Hotchner,” you pleaded, looking up at him through your eyelashes. 
“If you really want this, come up here,” he said, gesturing to his lap. 
You got up so fast your head spun, but you straddled his lap without hesitation, patting his solid chest with determined hands. You felt him grip your waist, and you opted to trace his sideburns with the tip of your fingers before you let your fingers run through his hair. 
He groaned instantly, rocking his hips up into you. 
Mr. Hotchner leaned down to put his lips on your clothed breasts, savoring each one with warm breaths and enthusiasm, making you moan gently before he looked up at you on top of him.
He cocked his head while you panted above him, desperate to grind down on his erection to get some sort of relief. 
His hands were on your rib cage, his fingertips so close to your breasts that even clothed, it felt like he was voluntarily teasing. 
“How often I’ve dreamed of having you like this,” he noted, pushing your hair out of your face and behind your ear. 
You started grinding down on his lap, making him gasp as you rocked your core against his. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, exhaling hot air onto your face, reminding you how close you were like this. It didn’t take long for your rhythm to falter and for the shirt to ride up your waist. 
You were so lost in everything you felt that you had shifted away from his erection and you were left breathing hard as your panties slid back and forth on his hard thigh. 
You saw Mr. Hotchner look down, his smirk wide as you both realized how wet you were. You were leaving an impressive spot on his pajama pants through your panties.
“You’re soaking me,” he croaked, his voice betraying he was as affected by this as you were. 
You steadied yourself on his chest, feeling his hands grip your waist more forcefully, and without the tee shirt, he’d surely be leaving a mark. 
He helped you rub yourself against his thigh, undoubtedly sensing you were consumed by the kind of craving that made you tingle from head to toe. 
“Good girl. You’re doing so well,” he praised. 
Of all the things he could have said, he happened to say the one thing that made you clutch his chest with biting nails.
“Mmffhm—”
“Oh, you like being called a good girl, sweetheart?”
You started shaking with need, feeling the coil in your stomach heating up and tightening. 
His hand came to wrap itself around your throat, his eyes dark and filled with lust. “Answer me.”
“Yes, Mr. Hotchner.”
“Good girl,” he cooed with a smile, releasing your throat. 
The flutters in your stomach melted with the burning desire raging inside you. 
“Will you touch me?” you stammered, drunk on the feeling of his stiff thigh. 
You could probably come like this if you continued. 
Mr. Hotchner smiled cheekily, barely ghosting his finger over your drenched panties. 
“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he grunted. 
“Please–” you begged. 
“I think you can come just like this, sweetheart. For me…”
You knew you probably could. You were close already. 
He put his hands back on your waist, guiding your movements on his thigh, watching your hips rock back and forth intently. 
“Are you going to make a mess, dirty girl? Am I going to need to wash you?” he asked huskily. “Maybe I should punish you for avoiding me. For not letting me talk to you or look at you.”
You were too far gone to wonder whether it had been as difficult for him to stay away from you as it had been for you to stay away from him. 
You moaned as your hips moved without restraint on top of him, rolling them back and forth just right so the friction of your panties rubbed your clit perfectly.
“Oh, god.”
You were so close to reaching your peak, and you felt unbearably hot on top of him. You knew you were soaking his pants, making a mess on his thigh, and the thought of him wanting to wash you, of him being angry and punishing you because you had avoided him… It only spurred you on. The thought of him missing you in the slightest set you alight. 
“Look at you, so beautiful wearing my shirt.”
“I’m too hot,” you whined. 
“Do you want me to help you with that?” 
You nodded eagerly.
His fingers pulled at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over your head, his eyes stuck on your face as you continued to grind down on his thigh. “You’re breathtaking.” 
You smiled at the compliment, doing your best to ignore how delightful it felt that he thought you were breathtaking because you were sizzling from the inside with thirst, and you couldn’t deal with the weight of his admission while you chased your orgasm. 
“Mr. Hotchner, you are so perfect–”
Lost in all the sensations and the sea of feelings that you were drowning in, he leaned down, his breath fanning over your breasts. He kissed a spot between them so softly, you thought you had imagined it for a second. 
“You’re the most perfect thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he whispered. 
The throbbing started to hurt, and you needed a bit more than just his thigh. You unhooked your bra, freeing your breasts, making your boobs bob up and down as you rubbed yourself on his erection a few times. 
“Please, Mr. Hotchner.” You didn’t even know what you were asking for, but you needed him to do something.
He grinned at you before he wrapped his lips around a nipple, licking it before sucking on it, making you whimper on top of him. 
He brought his other hand up around your throat before he decided to tap on your lips with his digits. 
“Suck on them for me, sweetheart.”
You opened your mouth, and his index and middle finger sank between your lips. You sucked on them instantly, making him hiss your name as you felt him twitch in his pants. 
Mr. Hotchner started licking your other nipple, sucking on it before he nipped at it gently, blowing hot air onto your skin as he alternated between them. 
He removed his wet fingers from your mouth, making you whine at the loss before he mouthed at one nipple, pinching the other with his fingertips.
“So good, Mr. Hotchner–”
You shifted again as your rhythm faltered, rutting on his thigh again. 
“Do it. Come on my thigh, sweet girl.”
You moaned loudly into the room, unable to keep the sounds from leaving your throat.
“Quiet,” he warned. 
“I can’t,” you pouted with a whimper. 
“Do you want me to keep you quiet?”
You nodded. 
He put his middle and ring fingers into your mouth while his other hand came up around your throat, barely squeezing it, but it was enough. Sucking on his fingers with a hand wrapped around your throat, having him put pressure on your windpipe whenever you were about to be too loud, well, it did wonders.  
You spared a thought for your sleeping friend upstairs, but as petty as it was, you couldn’t care less if you woke him right now. 
Mr. Hotchner looked at you adoringly, showcasing his dimples as his lips curled into a dazzling smile, and the sight was enough for you to let go, the coil in your stomach ripped to shreds. 
Your high came in violent waves as your body was overtaken by sharp shudders. 
Yet, you felt as centered as ever when a soft palm tenderly stroked your back. 
You opened your eyes, unaware you had closed them, and you found his gaze instantly, watching his hooded eyes, heavy with desire, survey you. He wasn’t scanning you for signs of uncertainty, his eyes simply darted over every inch of your face as if to take in your bliss. 
“Beautiful,” he murmured.
You let yourself fall forward, reveling in the feeling of him under you, surrounding you with his warmth, his cologne, his soft hands running up and down your back, his fingertips as they grazed your spine and made you shiver in delight. 
“Thank you,” you muttered in the crook of his neck. 
You’d probably regret this come morning, you’d probably question it, go over it a thousand times, but right now, he felt too solid underneath you to do anything but appreciate his enveloping comfort. 
“Come on, let’s go upstairs.”
You weren’t sure if your coming undone on his thigh would be the end of it, but you were thrilled that it apparently wasn’t. 
You quietly entered his room with him, watching him lock the door before you let him remove your panties, watching him discard his pants and boxers eagerly. 
He was indeed huge, leaking pre-cum and throbbing in need. The head was almost red, and you knew without a doubt that you wanted to take care of him as well as he had just taken care of you. 
But Mr. Hotchner took the lead, and you willingly followed. You would always willingly follow him, and as terrifying as it was, the thought helped you draw in a full breath. 
It took a matter of seconds for him to hover above you completely naked, and you couldn’t help but cup his cheek, feeling the shadow of a stubble scraping your palm.
He closed his eyes as if to savor it, and you cupped his other cheek, startling him enough to have him look into your eyes. 
“You are so handsome.”
He looked giddy and shy for a second, two things you never would have thought to associate with him. 
“This is way better than my imagination,” he admitted. 
Wait. Had he thought about this too?
“You–” you started, your mind spiraling with a thousand questions. 
“Yes, sweetheart. I’ve had to touch myself a lot because of you.”
“Show me?” you prompted. 
He searched your features but he surely found you were dead serious about this. 
Seeing his huge paw stroke his cock would fuel every last fantasy you would ever use to get off during your alone time. 
“You really want to see, sweet girl?” he queried, rubbing the back of his neck. 
“Yes.”
“I’ll– Okay. But on one condition: Would you say my name?”
From your very first interaction with him, he had insisted on having you call him something other than ‘Mr. Hotchner’, and you had always been afraid that overstepping that boundary would be crossing a line, that you wouldn’t be able to come back from it if you engaged in something less than formal. 
You smiled at him, assured that you wished to trespass.
“Aaron.”
“Hmm…” he hummed contentedly. He positioned himself with his back to the headboard, looking at you sitting down between his legs, facing him. He watched your hands caress his thighs before he looked at you again. “Say it again.”
“Aaron.”
He beamed at you, offering his left palm to you. “Spit.”
You obliged him, spitting into his hand a few times before he wrapped it around his erection, immediately mewling your name as he relieved some pent-up pressure. 
Watching his hand move up and down on his dick made you swoon, and the level of intimacy of this whole display wasn’t lost on you. 
He trusted you. 
And you trusted him. 
You leaned down to kiss his thighs, watching his hand speed up on his cock as you gently started biting his flesh, making him growl your name above you. 
“You’re doing so well, Aaron,” you applauded. 
His hips jerked up at the praise, making him thrust into his fist. He not only loved hearing his name, he decidedly loved this, too. 
Aaron looked absolutely delicious, and you would have to appeal to every last ounce of self-control you had not to touch him or taste him. 
“Ever since you came into our lives, I haven’t been able to get you off my mind,” he declared, and his voice completely mesmerized you as you observed his movements on his cock like a hawk. “Haven’t been on a date. Haven’t had sex. I can’t even watch porn without thinking of you, sweet thing. Fuck–” he added, gritting his teeth. “I don’t even like porn.”
You looked up at him through your eyelashes, your face so close to his cock you could almost taste the tangy salty pre-cum leaking from the tip.
“I touched myself to thoughts of you, too. I touch myself thinking of you. A lot,” you disclosed candidly. 
His hand lost its pace when his thighs started trembling, and he grabbed your chin, smiling at you. 
“My sweet forbidden fruit.” 
You hummed his name again, kissing his thighs in quick succession, biting him gently to elicit deep guttural moans to come flying out of his mouth. 
You were positive the soundproofing in this house was decent by now. 
“I’m close– Do you want me to come like this, sweetheart?” he asked.
You knew this was Aaron’s way of inquiring where this could go, where the limit was, and whether you wanted this to stop, but you wanted all of it. If this happened only once, you needed to experience all of him. 
You shook your head, raising yourself up. “As beautiful as this is, I want more.” You leaned down, kissing his chest gently before you sucked on a nipple, biting it a little as he had done to you earlier. It made him gasp in surprise. “Sorry.”
“No– I– I liked it.” He paused, caressing your face. “Way too much.”
“I want to cherish you. All of you.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he uttered smoothly, cupping your face. “We’ll do that some other time. I feel almost ready to explode.”
Another time?
You really wanted another time, more than you cared to admit, and you were beyond happy he wasn’t rejecting the idea of having this happen again.
“I need you,” you blurted out.
He chuckled breathlessly, in no way mocking you but visibly, he was amused by your impatience.
“What do you want? What do you think of when you touch yourself?”
“Just you. Your mouth. Your fingers,” you clarified.
“We can make that happen.”
He flipped you, pulling you down on your back before he started kissing your neck, sucking on your pulse point and making you rock upwards, seeking friction. 
Aaron started kissing his way down your body, lending great attention to your breasts again. He licked and sucked before he nipped gently, making you bury your hands into his hair. He groaned against your skin, thrusting his hips into nothing. 
“What you do to me…”
He made his way down, kissing your stomach with so much affection that you felt cherished from head to toe.
You’d do the same to him some other him. You promised yourself that right there and then. 
You were about ready to lose your mind once he settled between your legs, blowing hot air on your aching cunt. 
“Please.”
“Say my name,” he demanded.
“Aaron.”
He grinned before he kissed your inner thighs, spreading you wide and pulling your legs over his shoulders. 
“You smell delicious, sweet girl.”
He licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, not losing any precious seconds before he sucked on it, making you rock your pussy onto his face. 
He pressed down on your stomach with one hand, keeping you in place. He flicked his tongue over your clit repeatedly, making you arch your back, thrashing against his face regardless of the hand that he kept on you. 
You pulled on his hair as he started sucking more vigorously, shaking his head with the movements of his tongue, making you whimper as you bit harshly into your hand to silence your cries.
He whined the more you pulled, and you released your hold on him. Aaron instantly gathered your hand into his and put it back in his hair. 
You resumed the motions, this time gently tugging, and he growled against your cunt, making you thrash more violently under him. 
The coil started tightening in record time, threatening to tear incessantly, and you were helpless to his oral assault. He seemed to understand his hand was pointless on your stomach the more you moved, and he removed his mouth, licking his fingers before he breached you with one, putting his mouth back where it belonged before you could protest. 
He devoured you while he finger-fucked you, and you were left trying to find the right words to express how absolutely wrecked you were. He was ruining you for every other man, and he looked as if he knew it. He looked way too smug to be able to get you off this easily.
He added another finger, arching them into you just so. 
You saw stars before you could even warn him, and you came with a loud shudder as you heard him growl your name from between your legs. 
He didn’t relent, and when you started whining because of how sensitive you were, it seemed to fuel him. He was trying to milk this orgasm out of you bit by bit, and he was succeeding. Your legs quivered and unexpectedly, you felt a spurt of wetness drip down your pussy and onto his face. 
You could barely comprehend what had happened when you got lost in subspace, but the sound of his voice kept you firmly tethered in the here and now.  
Aaron made his way up to your face, kissing your cheek so delicately after basically eating you out like a five-star meal. 
His face glistened with your juices, and you realized how soaked his face was, how sticky and warm it was, but he didn’t seem to care and you certainly didn’t. 
You cupped his face with one hand, letting the other gently pat his hair to make up for the fact that you had pulled on his roots. 
He definitely liked having your fingers massage his scalp, he shuddered as you traced his scalp with your fingernails. 
He looked at you with a simple question in his eyes, but the only thing you could think to say was, “Please fuck me.”
He met your gaze with a serious look, his frown deepening. “If I take you, there’s no going back, sweet girl. I don’t share.”
He was making a statement but offering you an out. He was opening the door, but he wasn’t letting it close behind you. He was serious about this whole thing, and it occurred to you all at once that he liked you enough to not want to share you.
And while you were ready to agree to anything to feel him inside you, while you needed it like you needed air, you liked him enough to know what you were agreeing to.
What you felt for him was sometimes inexplicable, but there was no denying that you would not want any other man to touch you after this. 
You caressed his raven hair once more, smiling at him without a single doubt clouding your mind. Two orgasms would tend to make anyone carefree, but above all else, as bare as you were, you felt safe. Protected. Cared for. At home. 
He smiled back when he didn’t find you uncertain, and he kissed your forehead before he moved to find something in the drawer of his nightstand.
If ever this was the one and only time you got to be with him, you needed to feel him. If ever your morals got to you in the morning, if your head went against your heart, you needed to be as close to him as you could.
“Aaron, I’m on the pill. Please… I need to feel you.”
He nodded and positioned himself between your legs again, but something overcame him as you tried to bring his face closer to yours to finally find out how his lips felt against yours. 
He flipped you on your stomach as if you weighed nothing at all, a hand found its way to your stomach, bringing your ass up in the air. 
On all fours, you felt incredibly naked before him. But he stroked your skin lovingly, and somehow, it felt right. It felt magnificent. 
You didn’t feel all that naked anymore. 
He tapped his cock on your ass a few times before he breached you with the head of his cock, making you clench around the width unwillingly. 
You groaned and whimpered the more he sank into you, stretching you out and splitting you in half painfully slowly. 
“So fucking tight–” he grumbled.
A hand settled on your waist, gripping it tightly as you felt him twitch inside you. He would probably leave a mark if he continued to grip your waist this way, but you would admire it for days to come if he did. 
Fortunately, you were still dripping wet so it didn’t take long for the pain to subside and blend with pleasure, a dull throb echoing around your inner walls and making you clench around his dick. 
He was fully sheathed, but he made sure you remained bent over, your face breathing in his scent on the pillows.
It was intoxicating to be surrounded by all of him, but it was also troubling because you would never get enough. 
He slowly pulled out before he drove his cock back in in one go, and it was obvious as you tried to think that you had been rendered dumb and mute by his dick. 
“Mmffhm—”
“You feel so good, sweetheart.”
His hips started snapping abruptly, his rhythm unforgiving as he thrusted in and out of you sharply.
Aaron was surely driven by forces of nature or by sheer animal instinct as he gripped your ass cheeks with his hands, chewing your flesh with his fingers. 
It felt absolutely amazing to be taken. 
It felt empowering to know he was making you his. 
“Go on, tell me this pussy’s mine,” he drawled as his thrusts became sloppy. 
“Yours. All yours,” you affirmed, chanting his name into the pillows as each thrust of his hips made your cheek rub against the sheets. 
His thumb gently tapped on your asshole, letting you know you were at his mercy. 
“All those pretty little holes are mine,” he groaned. “You are mine. Say it.”
“Yes,” you whimpered. “I’m yours.”
He let a hand wander down to your stomach before he reached your clit, palming you enough to make you shiver and thrash relentlessly on the bed.
The only sounds in the room were skin tapping against skin, muffled moans, and low groans.
He worked his fingers on your clit with harsher flicks, rubbing and pinching in succession. 
“You’re clenching so hard around me, sweet thing. You have a vice grip on my dick.”
You could only partially moan incoherent syllables. “Mmffhm—”
“That’s right. I’m fucking you so good that you have to keep quiet or we’ll make the entire neighborhood.” He punctuated his sentences with harsher thrusts. “One day, though, I’m going to make sure to memorize all your pretty sounds while you beg and scream my name.”
Would there be another time? It wasn’t the first time he had suggested it tonight. 
You couldn’t even think straight. 
“I can feel your walls fluttering. Is the coil in your stomach tight?” he whispered breathlessly.
You barely nodded and a few soft slaps landed on your ass cheek, making you miss his fingers on your clit, but the sting of his palm was exquisite, sending an electric shiver down your spine before you felt flutters in your chest. Your stomach burned with need, you overflowed with happiness, and you were so close to losing it for a third time. 
“Oh.”
“You like that, too, huh?” he teased. He said it as if he was making mental notes of everything that turned you on, and knowing him the way you did, he probably was. He was nothing if not observant, and he would surely make sure to know exactly how to get you off if the occasion presented itself again. 
You couldn’t blame him, because regardless of the fact that you couldn’t form a single sentence, you had still taken note of everything that made him moan somewhere. You’d probably even get to revisit those things in your fantasies. 
Aaron was all you could think about and he was all you could feel. He was everything that you wanted, and he would be everything you would ever want. 
He drove his dick into you with longer thrusts, hitting so deep you saw stars as you chanted his name. He was not just grazing your g-spot, he was actually hitting it with precision every time he sank into you, and when his fingers found your clit again, you had to bite into his pillow to refrain from screaming your lungs out as your orgasm rocked you in waves. 
You hadn’t had time to warn him, but it seemed to be a blessing when you felt him still behind you, his deep groans filling the room.
You felt him throb inside you, pulsating with each shot of cum you felt painting your walls. 
He seemed to come for longer than you were used to, shaking violently enough to rattle the bed, but you wouldn’t move because you weren’t sure you could, and you wanted nothing more than to have his seed everywhere inside you.
Aaron suddenly let his entire weight fall down on you, seemingly unable to hold himself up any longer, toppling you over before he pulled you close to him as he rested on his side, watching you on your front as he started to delicately trace your spine with his fingers. 
He smiled at you lazily, like a man who had just fucked you silly. 
He looked proud, but he also looked genuinely happy. 
You smiled back, finding it easy to be lost in this silent moment with him. 
Nothing needed to be said or acknowledged. 
His cum was shoved so deep inside you, his dick had stretched you so good you’d feel it for days, and he was smiling at you with affection in his sparkling eyes. 
You didn’t want to wonder whether it would happen again because you were determined to make sure it would. 
You remained transfixed for a few minutes, waiting for your trembling limbs to stop tingling.
Aaron started drifting off, but he shook himself awake and he grabbed your hand with determination. “Come on, I’ll wash you.”
You tried to follow him to what looked like an ensuite bathroom, but your legs were too wobbly to sustain you.
“My legs–” you explained as you almost fell face first.
His arms held you up effortlessly, and he just looked way too smug to have made your legs surrender.  
“Oh, I’ll take care of you,” he cooed. 
Aaron picked you up bridal style without notice as if it was normal to do so, bringing you to his shower as he started it with one hand.
He made it seem easy to hold you up, and you put your arms around his neck, indulging in the proximity he was providing.
He brought you inside the shower once he seemed satisfied with the water temperature, putting you down worriedly, holding you close as you verified that your legs could hold you up. 
He was so gentle and careful, you wondered if this was the same man who had just fucked you senseless into the mattress, the same man who had told you to tell him you were his. 
The same man who is your best friend’s father.
It came crashing down on you all at once. 
You felt guilty, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret any of it. 
Truth was, you would do it again. 
All of it. 
Am I a horrible friend?
It didn’t matter when Aaron was looking at you like you were the most precious thing he had ever held. 
He kissed your forehead under the spray, letting his lips linger there before he kissed your nose and hovered above your lips. 
You didn’t let him hesitate, knowing he had probably not kissed you until now because this was sacred. This was more. This wasn’t about carnal needs or desires, it was about having a real emotional connection. 
It was about acknowledging this was more than just fucking. 
You grabbed his head and closed the distance, finally finding out that his lips were soft and sweet, and that his breath was warm and soothing. 
You kissed him until he let you graze his tongue, until you sucked on his lower lip, until his knees buckled and you had to hold him up as much as he was holding you up. 
He was out of breath by the time you pulled away, his eyes dark but soft. 
This time, he was the one who couldn’t find the right words.
“Can I wash your hair?” you inquired. 
You knew he liked having your fingers in his hair, and you figured that since you were both wet anyway...
He nodded and kneeled, picking up his bottle of shampoo before handing it to you with a grin. 
His eyes gleamed with anticipation, and he hugged your waist as you patted his head, watching how much younger he looked like this. The lines on his face were nothing if not incredibly attractive, but his whole demeanor as he kneeled innocently before you was simply adorable. He looked carefree, but above all else, he was unguarded. 
Aaron moved back just enough to let you work, his hands on your legs, looking up at you like a golden retriever looked at his favorite human, with pretty and big brown eyes filled with adoration.
You finished washing his hair and you used his body gel to wash yourself clean swiftly, loving that you would smell like him for hours if you wondered whether your mind had played a sick trick on you when you woke up. 
Aaron let his head fall down and for a second, you admired his fleeting vulnerability. You had caught a few glimpses of it tonight, but you knew without a doubt he was having second thoughts because of his son. 
He was a good man. You were a good person. At least, you thought so. 
And you had both just done something very… questionable. 
But questionable shouldn’t feel this good, right?
“He doesn’t hate you, you know,” you whispered softly, hoping to calm the quiet storm which seemed to rage inside him. 
You lifted his chin with your fingers, meeting his tender but apprehensive gaze. He wasn’t hiding and he wasn’t panicking, he was just calling his morality into question. You knew because you were, too. 
He was completely bare before you, in every way possible. “Thank you.”
Aaron didn’t voice that Jack would probably hate him if he found out about this, and you were grateful for that. 
Nothing needed to be said. You had both risked your relationship with Jack tonight.
He didn’t mention that he was concerned that his son already hated him either, but you knew he was worried. To be fair, Jack probably hated the entire world because of his breakup right now, and you didn’t think it had been directed at Aaron in particular. You were both just caught in the crossfire earlier. 
While he and Jack had had their fair share of hurt, their relationship wasn’t rocky. You knew that much. After all, you were around for the last two years and not once did you feel any animosity between them.
You got on your knees, hugging him close under the warm spray. Whatever this was, whatever happened, he deserved comfort. 
You got out of the shower still holding on to one another, wrapping yourselves up into towels before you walked back into his room. 
He offered you a tee shirt before he kissed your crown, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist. “Are you hungry? I could make us something.”
He was so thoughtful, so considerate… 
I am in love with him. 
It wasn’t a scary realization, it wasn’t even unsettling. It was just there. 
“I’m good. Thank you.”
He smiled and put the tee shirt down over your head before he put on a pair of boxers. You wondered what the right course of action was as he got settled in bed, but it became obvious as you watched Aaron opening up his arms to you. You didn’t hesitate and you wrapped yourself around him like a koala, your arms finding their rightful place around his waist.
He kissed your forehead again, his lips lingering there.
“What does this mean?” you finally asked, addressing this pleasant energy between you.
“It means that you should sleep here more often.” 
“Aaron–” It still sounded foreign rolling around in your mouth, after all, you had called him ‘Mr. Hotchner’ for over two years, but it was not unnatural. “What are we–”
“I don’t know. Just stay with me?”
“This can’t ever happen again, right? Jack would never forgive us if he found out.”
“Why? He doesn’t want you for himself–”
Wait. How does he know that?
“Sorry?”
"I know my son isn't attracted to women, sweetheart. I figure, when he's ready, he'll tell me."
Apparently, Aaron was as observing as you gave him credit for. 
But Jack wouldn’t be mad because he was jealous. He would be mad because he brought you here, and you had betrayed his trust.
“It’s not that. He’s my only friend. He’s–”
“Taking you for granted most of the time. He’s everything to you but–” He paused. He clearly knew how much it hurt you to hear it voiced out loud. “You’re a great friend, honey. He’s not. I know my son. I still love him but he’s not perfect– Look, you might have convinced yourself he was the closest thing you had to a brother, but I’m telling you, a friend– a brother– gives back. You bring him back from parties, you make up cue cards for him when he needs to study, you do some of his essays… When was the last time he did something for you?” He paused again, letting you think. “And if he knows exactly who you are like you think he does, he must know what kind of men you like–” he added, tracing your arm with the tips of his fingers, raising goosebumps as he painted your skin with soft touches. “And still, he brought you here…”
“Aaron–”
He kissed your forehead, angling his body so you could curl into his embrace a bit more. His lips were slightly parted as he looked into your eyes, and a faint taint appeared on his cheeks. 
You crinkled your nose in amusement at the sight. 
He was buried inside you minutes ago, and now he was blushing because you had used his first name unprompted. 
He loved hearing his name leave your lips, that much was obvious from his dilated pupils and long lazy blinks. 
“I’ll be good to you, sweetheart. I just need you to let me,” he murmured.
His hand finally sat on your rib cage, and you involuntarily pouted because this was exactly what you wanted, and he was offering it to you on a silver platter without any reservation. 
“I just–”
“Sweetheart, we could find a million reasons not to but I want–” He paused, long enough for you to admire his pursed lips and furrowed brow. He was gorgeous self-assured, as you knew, but he was somehow even more stunning when he was insecure. He tugged on the hem of the shirt he had put on you, bowing his head down before zeroing in on your face. A fond expression ghosted over his features, looking at you through eyelashes that should be illegal on a man. “Look, we’ll figure it out, okay? You live alone, we can sneak around and… I don’t know. We don’t have to decide anything just yet, but I’d like to explore this. I really like you.”
“I– uh– yes. Me too.”
He set an alarm on his phone before he kissed the top of your head, squeezing you tightly into his arms. 
“Sleep, sweet girl. I’ll wake you. Jack sleeps in till noon when he’s hungover anyway.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
You didn’t miss how his breath hitched at the nickname or how his pulse quickened as you yawned against his chest. 
He let out a long breath as his arms engulfed you, lulling you into peaceful safety and unwavering comfort. He played with your hair and massaged your neck, tracing the lines of your face with his fingertips as if he wanted to be able to draw you from memory, effectively rendering you oblivious to the world before you could think about the possible repercussions of what you had just agreed to be for one another.
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blkgirl-writing · 7 months
Note
Hi, I saw your smut requests post and was wondering if you could write one about touch starved Gale finally being alone with reader/Tav and getting his satisfaction? (Yeah, I got inspired by your nsfw headcanons about him, how could you tell?) Please and thank you!
PS Can I be 🧀 anon?
What happened at the moon lit pond
Gale X Fem!Reader
Baldurs gate 3
It’s been, probably three years since I’ve written a full fanfic? I’ll admit I’m probably a little rusty. Thank y’all for hanging in, and I hope this fulfills our nerdy wizard boy needs. thank you so much 🧀 anon for the request! I hope you stay and request some more.
Important tags: lots of pining, some angst (no sad ending), smutty (male and female Masterbation, male giving female oral), spoilers for gales mid game story, romance, Gale is an anxious mess, The thought of gale brushing his hair from his face got me GOING 😩
Word count: 1.9k
(Part 1.5 HERE) (PART 2 HERE)
(Gale headcanons that inspired this here)
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Gale didn’t know how to handle these new feelings for you. He makes a fool of himself everyday, it seems. He always offers you a slice of his bread, even if you gave your own, he saves some of his own morning coffee for you, since he wakes up earlier, and even warm it up for you with a spell.
He simply wanted you to like him. That would be all he needed, but anything else that may follow that would be a true blessing. Gale wanted nothing more than to make you laugh, to see your smile and know he was the reason why, to camp and be the first and last person you’d speak to before sleep.
Gale wouldn’t let his mind wander much past that, or he tried to not let it. The occasional dream would slip through where you were his, and he was yours. It simply put him in panic mode In the waking hours, trying to not be obvious, scared you’d find out, what exactly? He wasn’t sure. You were too kind to break his heart so effortlessly, like he feared you would.
Endless scenarios danced in gales head of rejection, humiliation, and what would happen if he let himself go, life he was tasked to do. It wouldn’t take much, to convince him to live. Friendship, a place to call home, even if it was ever moving. Company he could entrust his life to. It was all so appealing. Luring him into life, breathing a new passion into his purpose, one he’d lost many years ago, sometime when he was alone for so many years.
Those thoughts seemed to linger on forever, sweeping over his barely conscious brain to awaken him again, rustling him from what could be a good nights rest. Eventually, Gale decided to just get up and go for a walk.
Camp had been set up in one of the most beautiful places any of you had seen. Waterfalls tinted emerald green, sand fine and shimmering in the light, may it be sun or moon. I’m one of those waterfalls, he found you.
Waist deep in the pond. Skin and hair dripping wet, shining more than usual water would, adding a silver glow to the night. You looked better than a goddess could ever imagine, and still, his eyes never dipped below you shoulders, even though he deeply wanted to look lower. Instead, he stood there, looking like a fucking idiot, gods know how long. Maybe a tree branch snapped, or maybe you finally snapped out of your trance, but your head whipped in his direction, eyes darting across the small beach, only relaxing when you realize only gale stands before you.
“Oh, Gale, it’s just you…” you let out a deep, jagged breath, the anxiety flowing out of your body just as quickly as it racked through it.
“Just? Are you disappointed?” Gale smirked, although his heart raced in his chest, one word and he'd sulk back to camp, but gods he wanted to stay and spend the whole night with you under the stars.
“Far from it, really. I was just thinking about how much you’d enjoy this view if you were here” you tore your eyes away from Gale, focusing on the stars. “I thought it may remind you of waterdeep. You paint a very beautiful picture of home.”
“I can think of a few things much, much more beautiful than Waterdeep,” his voice low, raspier than usual. Easily explained away from the lack of sleep or old sleeping bags, not for what it really was. Deep yearning, wanting, needing.
“I’d love to see them someday, then.”
“We’ll just have to get you a mirror, then,” “All the beauty in the world would reflct
"Gale, I-" You finally looked into his eyes, he wore his heart on his sleeve, at least for a moment. Those puppy eyes, dark bust glistening in the full moonlight, his hair messy from turning in his sleep, he wanted you, in many more ways than one. Gale's emotions could never be that simple, of course.
"Well," you walked towards him, water inching lower and lower, revealing more and more of your body, yet gales eyes stayed on yours. "Why don't you join me for a swim. It's a beautiful night."
"an offer I could not refuse." Gale's face was plastered with that cocky smile, the one that could melt anyone into a puddle in seconds.
He might have been a gentleman and kept his eyes upwards, but you were not so much, Gale untied his robes, gods why were there so many damn layers? It was quite a sight, his little mannerisms that showed more of him to you than he had shown to you. He was nervous, his fingers missing the simple ties frequently, he got annoyed by his hair getting in his eyes, a grimace appearing before he swept his hair behind his ear.
Your eyes lingered on his circle smoke tattoo, his toned arms, his downright massive hands. he was more tan than you realized, To be fair, he's always covered in those loose robes, leaving you to wonder what was underneath. You were more than happy to finally be finding out. But not below the waist.
"Isn't it a bit cold to be this naked?"
"The water is warmer than the air, I promise." You extended a hand out to Gale, even though he was feet away from you. "Come on, Gale from Waterdeep being afraid of some cold water? Sounds redundant."
"You got me there." He finally stepped into the glimmering pond surrounded by rocks and sand, enough to have your own little corner, to lessen the echo if it was needed. The whole camp didn't need to know all of your business. It must've been a magical lake, as both you and Gale noted separately. Unnaturally still, even when you moved freely, small glowing lights pooled at your sides, occasionally bubbling into the air once you leaned against a large, bright rock.
"May I ask what you were doing out here at this hour?" Gale spoke, still much further away from you than he wanted to be,
"Can I not take a mid-night swim?" You raised your brows in a questioning glance his way "A woman needs time to herself. These days and nights have been very stressful."
Gales very audible oh, slipped through the silence. "You don't have to relax alone." His eyes finally gave in to the need, scanning your body with a low moan slipping past his lips. His excitement was immediate, brushing against your lower stomach all the way past your navel.
"You've wanted this." You stated, brushing your hand against his thigh.
"There's plenty of magic around us, I want the Gale right in front of me." You dared to inch even closer, his thigh fully slipping between yours, inches away from touching your pussy. His hands floated inches from your waist, "Let me give you everything"
"Give me everything" With that, Gale's hand grabbed your waist, gently guiding you onto his thigh, motioning your hips down and swaying only him. The sensation sent sparks flying through his body, you were right in front of him, completely bare and rocking with pleasure onto him. Better than any dream he'd thought up, any fantasy that ran through his head even at the most inappropriate of times. Yes even during the throws of battle. Even in hard times like that, he was so drawn to you.
Gales other hand came up to your jawline, tilting your head so he could latch his mouth around your neck. Deep marks left behind while he inches his way in hickeys up your neck, jaw, and finally to your lips. Any semblance of anonymity flew out the window, not a single person could miss what he gave you, artfully placed dark spots painting your skin. "I have never seen such a beautiful being in my life"
"I could say the same about you gale," You said betwixt breathy moans, picking up the pace of your grinding hips against his thigh, his hand on your waist moving between a tight grip on your ass, and a light but so effective caress of your clit. Every time you got so close, his fingers moved, he was teasing you. His cocky smirk felt even through his kiss.
"I want you to come on my mouth." As if he was reading your slightly frustrated thoughts, "I want to taste you in my dreams."
All you could manage was a frantic nod, a mumbled yes, and shakily hoisting yourself up onto a rock that was perfect for gales pretty head to be between your thighs. Gale pushed your thighs apart with one hand, which stayed firmly grabbing onto you. The other sneaked up your thigh, tracing patterns along your skin. "Gale, please," you whispered out of pure desperation. The only warmth coming from your feet still in the water, otherwise your skin exposed to the biting air.
"All you had to do was ask, my lady" Gales fingers easily slid into you, curling up and pumping in and out, while he leaned into your pussy, maintaining eye contact as he placed one kiss just to the right of where you needed him to be. All he needed was to be touched, to touch you. Your legs wrapped around him to get Gale even closer, urging him closer.
"Touch yourself" Barely a whisper, but Gale caught it, and certainly didn't need to be told twice. Secretly, he could cum from this alone, your taste, how soft you were, how loud you could get. It was more than enough to orgasm right there with you, however, that is not exactly how he wanted your first sexual experience to go. His hand clutching your thigh came to his cock, rubbing much faster and harder than he was fingering you. he was eager. He wanted this to last forever, he wanted you to cum again and again and again into his mouth. He wanted his face even more dripping from your juices.
"Gale I can't hold it-" You nearly screamed, his tongue swirling and sucking, lightly biting, it was almost too much. Then, he moaned. A loud, deep moan and that was it. Vibrations running through your body from his mouth. there noise that left your mouth could've been heard across Baldurs gate, you silently thanked this magical pound for being so secluded, as you would be borderline embarrassed if people heard. Gales didn't come back up for hair until he was sure you were finished, getting every last drop of you.
"You certainly are loud" Gales tone was so smug it almost made you laugh. You gripped onto his shoulders as he swept you down from the perch, pressing his whole body to yours. After all that, after her definitely came, he was still so hard, and so pressed against you that you couldn't help but gasp. "I want to hear that again."
"Hear what, exactly?" you teased, lifting a finger to trace his chest.
"To hear you cum," his lips dipped down to your ear, slightly nibbling on it, before he rasped "and to feel you on my cock."
-
Part two, here
(Requests Open)
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f1daydreamers · 1 month
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𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 [𝐋𝐍𝟒] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐
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gif credits: @eightyones
Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!Reader
Summary: To say you weren't the biggest fan of Lando Norris was an understatement, but you also happened to underestimate just how willing the man was to prove to you that he'd changed.
Warnings: just very strong feelings (not good ones lol), Reader’s a little angry in this one so yeah, remember that this is all fiction and not telling of the actual person!
A/N: I hope I can stay consistent with posting but writer’s block is the truest thing ever so pray for me everybody (for your own sakes tbf lmao, ik whoever read the Lance series was defo not happy with my oh so consistent updates)
Here’s Part 1 if you missed it :)
Word Count: 1.9k words (7 mins reading time avg)
"What're you wearing?" Allegra popped her head into your bedroom, to see if you'd gotten changed but you hadn't, still blankly staring at your dresser.
"Uh, don't know." You breathed out, you'd spent a good half an hour trying to rid these damning thoughts about having to go to Woking tonight. Though that wasn't necessarily the problem; he was.
It didn't go unnoticed how your heart would beat a little faster when you remembered he still existed, your hands would instinctively clench into fists, your body simmering with unresolved rage.
A simple and menial task had a shadow cast over it. You hated that.
"You look like you've just seen a ghost," Allegra commented, strolling past you and spreading a variety of outfits on your bed.
"Nope, just buzzing with excitement." You murmured out a feeble response, grabbing whatever seemed the cleanest from your drawer and tossing it onto the desk chair in the corner.
Turning, you found Allegra holding up two mini-dresses and arched an eyebrow at her.
"Ally, it's January." She paused for a moment before casually throwing them behind her onto the bed and picking up a pair of light blue washed-out jeans with a white crop top.
"That's better." You smiled.
"Can't believe we have to wear the ugly-ass Google jacket." She grumbled as she shoved the rest of her clothes back into her bag, and you chuckled.
"Yes, believe it or not, we are going there to work." You reminded yourself more than her; it wasn't a social event, just networking and taking photos for the social media team. Not exactly difficult.
You made a mental note to ask James when he was leaving so you knew when to be ready by.
"I know! Still, I want to look good while I'm working." Allegra countered and you hummed in response, it wasn't the most appealing article of clothing but there was no way around it either.
"I hope we get to meet the drivers. Ugh, I'm totally living out a dream right now!" Allegra chirped.
The prospect crossed your mind, and you froze, envisioning how the encounter might unfold if he recognised you. Would he be surprised? Or would he avert his eyes in shame?
Maybe you'd throw a drink in his face before he could react. You exhaled; no, you couldn't do that. Nick would probably chop my head off, you thought. Throughout the past week, he had incessantly emphasised the importance of making a lasting impression. Smile, be helpful, talk to everybody. The mantra seemed to have etched itself permanently into your brain.
"Doesn't matter," you muttered. You'll have Allegra, James, there'll probably be hundreds of people tonight; you won't see him.
There's no way.
...
"Who are these lovely ladies?" You grinned as you and Allegra neared James, casually leaning against his BMW – our ride there.
"Ladies who kicked your ass at stats last week." His smile faltered into a thin line as he turned to you for help, but you raised your hands in mock surrender.
"30K each, baby!" You chuckled, Allegra facing you, raising her hand for a high-five that you gladly met.
"Alright, alright, don't forget this ride is free." James opened the passenger door as you climbed in first, your friend following suit.
He jogged over to the driver's side, slipping into his seat.
"And we love you for it." You teased, and he only rolled his eyes, tugging on his seatbelt and clicking it into place.
The hour and a half ride to Woking was filled with mindless chatter and jokes, while it served as a sufficient distraction for some time, your mind began shifting elsewhere.
The night ahead brought a mix of anxiety and an underlying sense of dread.
You were replaying your conversations from long ago, you remembered every evening you'd come home and complain to your mother how him and his friends were the most intolerable assholes on the face of this planet.
Growing up, you'd met a lot more of those but learned to handle them better.
Being a teenager meant your parents only waved it off, giving advice that you knew would never work - telling the teacher, standing up to them, ignoring them completely.
No matter how much you defended your friends, their teasing was endless.
Perhaps you inherited your 'forgive but never forget' attitude from a grandparent considering your parents aren't the type to hold a grudge until the end of time.
You shifted in your seat, attempting to shake off the apprehension that settled in your chest. Each passing mile brought you closer to Woking and the event that would unfold there. A lump formed in your throat, and your palms felt a bit clammy.
As you rubbed them on your jeans, James calling your name pulled you out of your trance-like state. "What's with the sour face?"
"Wishing I was in bed right now." That wasn't technically a lie, you'd always in any situation rather be in your bed.
He laughed, taking his eyes off of the rearview mirror to turn right before speaking again, "hopefully this shit doesn't last too long." You were sure it was for different reasons but you agreed wordlessly, Allegra scoffed.
"You guys are boring, this is a Formula 1 team! Come on, where is the energy in here?"
If you looked past the reasons why you thought tonight was a complete recipe for disaster, you understood her excitement, hell, maybe you were even a little excited yourself.
"It's going to be amazing," you smiled, squeezing Allegra's hand.
James nodded, "just as fun as losing to you two loonies at stats."
...
Together, you all passed through the entrance of the MTC after the security personnel checked your passes.
The sleek backdrop was instantly punctuated by the papaya-coloured uniforms that caught your eye. Inside, a crowd of employees, journalists, and photographers were engrossed in their respective responsibilities. The main area buzzed with chatter and laughter. The illuminated Google and McLaren logos adorned the wall side by side. The sheer vastness of the centre initially overwhelmed not only you but also James and Allegra on either side, their silence telling. "Woah," Allegra eventually breathed out, and you subtly nodded in agreement, acknowledging her reaction. Rope barriers enclosed the Formula 1 cars in the central area, creating a grand yet slightly intimidating exhibit. "I'm so ready to work," you chuckled, recognising Allegra's sarcasm as her eyes sparkled with a playful glint. Both of you knew that 'work' was code for mingling. She slipped away swiftly, leaving you briefly alone.
You turned to face James who, ever the social butterfly, beamed with enthusiasm.
You consciously wrapped your hand around his upper arm, a silent cue he readily understood. It's not that you didn't do well in social situations, you just didn't do well alone in social situations.
He knew that.
You allowed him to navigate you both through the crowds of people, engaging in light conversation and making necessary introductions along the way.
However, your nerves bubbled beneath the surface. Constantly glancing around, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, your eyes scanning the room constantly.
As the hour passed, both you and James, occasionally bumping into Allegra who was way too excited to stay in one spot for too long, continued navigating the sea of people while keeping a watchful eye for a familiar face you hoped not to encounter.
But eventually, you did. Right there, in the midst of the crowd. You couldn't be entirely sure it was him though the resemblance was nothing short of uncanny.
He looked different, changed somehow. He adorned facial hair now, quite a bit of it too, he was clad in white trainers, black sweatpants, and a McLaren hoodie.
A clear departure from the person you remembered.
As your gaze lingered on him, you became sure when a wide smile grew on his face. It was a smile that you knew all too well, one that sent a jolt of recognition through you.
His figure had grown, perhaps he was an inch or two taller but you couldn't be sure.
You didn't spend any minute with him judging his height, you spent those minutes despising him, hating him, cursing his name and his rich, arrogant ass.
A moment of panic washed over you, and instinctively, you moved away as swiftly as you could, hoping to avoid catching his attention.
A tumultuous wave of emotions crashed through you, each feeling more intense than the last as you swerved through bodies to get to the farthest point away from him.
Torment churned within, a relentless reminder of past wounds that seemed to have resurfaced. Anger flared up, fuelled by memories of his past actions that had left scars on your heart.
A weight of sadness settled in your chest, the realisation that the wounds he caused still had enough power to reopen.
A conflicting turmoil seized your thoughts. On one hand, an impulsive urge to confront and release pent-up frustration surged. Simultaneously, another part of you longed to escape, wishing to erase this night from memory as quickly as possible.
In an attempt to distract yourself, you hastily poured a cup of water, downing it in a single gulp before effortlessly tossing it into the bin.
The thought of texting James or finding Allegra crossed your mind, but the lack of energy left you rooted in place, unable to summon the will to move.
You attempted to swallow, hoping to dispel the lump in your throat, and were startled when you felt a vibration from your phone. Glancing at the screen, you noticed it was a message from Nick.
Check in with me soon. Want to see how you’re getting on
Your thumbs hesitated over the keyboard, your mind devoid of any thoughts except those consumed by the current predicament. The panic in your chest felt like it could explode at any moment.
You locked your phone, shoving it into your pocket, taking several deep breaths but not before you were interrupted.
"You alright, darlin’?” Your breath hitched in its throat. Now there was zero denying if it was or wasn't him. Nobody else has ever called you that.
Anger quickly consumed you.
"Still a prick, I take it?" Your jaw ticked as you responded through gritted teeth. You hated that nickname.
Ignoring your remark, he nonchalantly picks up a cup, pouring its contents without a care. "What brings an old friend here?"
"Is that what we are? Is that what we ever were?" You ask, reminiscent of the unpleasant past. You finally look up to meet him, his eyes narrow as if he’s scrutinising you, but he’s not.
He’s merely staring.
"You didn't come all this way to start on me now, did ya?" The flatness in his voice evident.
"You certainly make it easy." You retort.
He smirked, "you’re certainly just as charming."
You roll your eyes, deciding he wasn't worth the time you were losing when you could instead be working or being around people you actually tolerated.
But before you can, he unexpectedly grabs your hand, his grip a lot stronger than what you remember. You tightened your lips, holding back any remark that might draw unwanted attention.
"Why are you acting like that, darlin’?" His question came in a near-whisper, laced with a hint of.. disappointment?
"Like what?" You murmured, meeting his gaze.
His eyes wander, trying to pinpoint the look in yours, "like you hate me."
Observing his face for a moment, you chuckle bitterly. Your phone was buzzing continuously, it must be Nick, you thought.
"Because I do, asshole." With that, you yanked your hand away, turning to leave as you grabbed your phone out of your jacket pocket to pick up Nick’s call.
...
Part 3
Masterlist
Taglist: @landosgirlxoxo @sltwins @dutifullyannoyingfox @moonayu @mrsmaybank13 @queenofmanydreams @chonkybonky @urmotheris @ananyasr1bughead @alliwantisadonut @daisysnhl @writingworlds @leclercsluv @tylerstacobell @booksandflowrs @kissesandmartinis @starssfall
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the-returnofartemis · 4 months
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/ASTRO OBSERVATION 1/
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i'm excited to share my first astro observation! i'm still new to all of this but i’ve picked up on some things that i feel compelled to share. however, i do want to emphasize that my thoughts may not apply to everyone.
okay, so i recently remembered that as an INFJ, we are considered to be the rarest personality type. this got me thinking and i realized that most INFJ’s are either water dominant (cancer/scorpio/pisces), possess fixed sign placements (leo/scorpio/aquarius/taurus) in prominent planets or have prominent water houses (4H,8H,12H) in their big six. coincidentally, i happen to know to other people who are also INFJ’s, and we all have prominent cancer, scorpio and aquarius placements. 
✧ j-hope from bts is a well-known INFJ. although the accuracy of his birth chart is uncertain because there is no actual birth time, it revealed intriguing aspects. i mean, hobi’s chart indicates prominent water placements (scorpio and pisces stellium), alongside his aquarius sun!
yes, it is interesting to observe how neptune in the first house has a unique ability to draw in copycats but those with this placement were once copycats as well lmao.
‘the copycat becoming the one being copied’ trope is quite funny to witness actually
this behavior may stem from their struggle with their personal identity and appearance, leading them to shape-shift into the aesthetic or persona of someone they admire in that moment (this tendency is very short-lived by the way lmao). rather than taking the time to define their authenticity and discover their true selves, they find it easier to adopt the persona of another individual. sometimes, they rely so heavy and get caught up on external influences, that they lose the plot SO fast. but as individuals with this placement mature and come into their own, they come to understand that it’s fine to draw inspiration from others but recognize the importance of embracing their unique qualities and traits. it is this self-acceptance that allows them to become pioneers and set remarkable trends. 
✧ ariana grande: y’all can never make me hate her, i am so sorry lmao but of course, there is no denying that she has faced many accusations of being a ‘mariah carey copycat’ but it is important to acknowledge that she has now cultivated her own distinct singing style that has garnered widespread acclaim and popularity. in all honesty, she has become the epitome of having copycats, even to this day lmao. the sheer number of women/fans/people in general imitating her, from her hair to her fashion sense to her mannerisms, is just WOW. like, the way how she has garnered immense adoration needs to be studied (i mean not really because her scoprio midheaven + neptune 1H undoubtedly contribute to her appeal but still!) 
✧ kim kardashian + kylie jenner: when it comes to these two, there's not much that needs to be said lmao like their influence and presence in media speak for themselves. they have managed to create a significant impact, and it’s hard to ignore but let’s remember their roots and who they took their influence from.
✧ megan fox: she’s taken on MGK’s entire aesthetic. she has embraced his style and persona, and it’s interesting to see how it has influenced her own image, considering the fact that she is THE megan fox. even now, the timeless looks that she gave us in the late 00's are still being imitated!
in reference to my previous point, on astrology twitter, jade mentioned an interesting perspective that i completely agree with and feel compelled to share with all of you: having 12H placements can lead to losing the plot SO fast, so it’s crucial to be mindful. although the 12H is widely regarded as the most intuitive, spiritual, and governing the subconscious, it also represents the potential for self-sabotage and lose one’s sense of self. the influence of neptune, the ruler of the 12H, can create a distorted illusion and a tendency to view circumstances through rose-colored glasses. so, 12H placements, it’s essential to always stay grounded, and more importantly, maintain a strong sense of self to avoid losing sight of the goals and aspirations!
✧ an example of this is a 12H sun becoming egotistical and subsequently losing sight of their goals and aspirations, ultimately hindering their progress in life. 
(get well soon by ariana grande just came on and i dedicate this beautiful song to all, but more importantly to those with 12H placements. remember that you are strong and capable of overcoming any challenges that comes your way – you can conquer anything. stay positive and always take care of yourself. you got this! — sincerely, a fellow 12H 🫂) 
scorpio/8H moons are often labeled as “mysterious” due to their tendency to keep their emotions hidden from others on a daily basis. in truth, they rarely feel comfortable expressing their feelings, even to those they trust, as they fear burdening others. this tendency may have developed during their childhood, where they may have not felt safe or at ease in sharing their emotions, leading them to learn how to control and suppress them. however, if you manage to break through the walls of a scorpio/8H moon and they confide in you, it is significant sign that they felt truly seen and understood by you. this can lead to a strong desire to be in company of that person, as their energy provides a sense of comfort and less isolated. so, if you have a scorpio/8H moon in your life, they value you and treasure the connection you share. 
the infamous 22nd degree, commonly referred to as the “to kill or be killed” degree, is often associated with rare and extreme circumstances. being a capricorn degree, it genuinely has a favorable influence, especially in terms of one’s professional life. but, individuals with this degree in their chart may encounter ongoing challenges and be vulnerable to gaslighting. overcoming these challenges serves as a constant reminder to nurture their self-awareness and resilience.  
✧ example a: according to her birth chart, beyonce is believed to have three planets (neptune, pluto and chiron) positioned in this degree. in her latest film, “renaissance: a film by beyonce,” she courageously shares all the moments that highlight the constant challenges from those around, particularly her production team, who questioned her credibility and knowledge – she expressed that she always had to prove herself and felt undervalued in terms of her opinions.
i also just want to say that bey became artist that she is today by perfecting and learning every aspect of her craft throughout her extensive career. she has taught herself everything there is to know about showmanship, and to discredit her knowledge, especially to her face, is just crazy to me. her success is a testament to her hard work, dedication, and talent and she deserves all the recognition she has received.
✧ example b: chlöe (chloexhalle) has the degree on her lilith. unfortunately, chloe has faced relentless scrutiny and gaslighting since she entered the public eye. the placement of the degree on her lillth has made her a target for heavy negative judgement and projection, particularly in regard to her expression of her sexuality and individuality.  
i mean it when i say that it is truly remarkable to witness her immense talent and undeniable beauty, along with her incredible kindness. i honestly feel like the public wants to keep her in a box, hindering her from fully blossoming into the person she aspires to be. she needs that space and freedom to embrace her own journey of self-discovery and personal growth.
✧ example c: jungkook from bts has the degree on his sidereal venus – the degree on his venus suggests he might face challenges related to low self-esteem and lack of confidence in his own attractiveness. also, this placement can also indicate that he may experience situations were power dynamics within his relationships come into play. while details about his personal relationships are scarce, as they rightfully should be, it is evident that he faces an alarming level of compromise to his safety due to the actions of obsessive fans and stalkers. the behavior exhibited towards him, like, being mobbed at airports or these fans intruding his personal space by sending food to his house and even going as far as issuing death threats. as a relatively new fan, i can sense that this issue is more serious for him compared to other members. these fans seem to lack an understanding of personal boundaries and persistently push the limits, even after he has politely requested their respect, which is truly disheartening. 
it's quite likely that jimin and namjoon (other members of bts), also have this degree, given the challenging circumstances they have encountered and continue to face. 
i also learned that this degree can also symbolize power and the ability to have immense influence over others. those who possess this degree in their natal chart often hold positions of power and occupy the highest echelons of the social structure (hence the name, ‘to kill or be killed’). this degree is found in numerous royals, politicians, and highly influential celebrities natal charts: justin bieber, donald trump, kendall + kylie jenner, kim kardashian, barack obama, the british royals and more. here is a post that delves deeper into the theory behind the placement!
gemini placements 🤝 wearing different hats (exploring various interests). they cannot for the life of them confine themselves to a single pursuit, as it tends to become monotonous for them. this may seem unpredictable to others, but, for gemini's, it is a way of truly embracing life and ensuring that they savor every aspect of it, just as they should! 🤭
also, the gemini venus slander in the astro community is so ????? like, yes, an undeveloped gemini venus may struggle with indecisiveness and inconsistency, but it is important to know that a well-developed one can be an incredible partner and asset in a relationship. developed gemini venus partners are known for their unwavering commitment to nurturing a strong bond in their relationships. they will consistently strive to contribute in every way possible to ensure a lasting connection, thanks to the influence of their sidereal taurus venus (may not always be the case though). they value stability and security, and above all, understand the importance of forming meaningful relationships, especially when they feel like they share a profound intellectual bond with their partner – like, they would not take it for granted because they know that not everyone has the capacity or desire to engage with them in that way lmao. they will be there for you until they are convinced, based on their rational thinking (which also depends on the influence of other placements), that they have thoroughly explored every option and exhausted all potential outcomes. even then, it may take them some time to reach that conclusion because they will need to make sense of it all, so, they will make a point to have conversations with their partner to ensure mutual understanding before moving forward. building a strong and fulfilling relationship requires dedication, and a devoted gemini venus will their offer support in all aspects – whether it be physically, emotionally, or notably, mentally. honestly, they will go the extra mile to ensure that they’ll do right by their partner!  so, i beg, please, love us! ��� lmao – sincerely, a gemini venus  
 also, a gemini venus + strong water placements (house/sign, especially in cancer/scorpio) … oh baby, just sit down and make yourself comfortable because you not leaving until there is a deep understanding of both the emotional and intellectual aspects 😭
the 3H, 6H, 10H and 11H are known as the GROWTH houses, where continuous effort is required to achieve meaningful outcomes.
3H → one must acquire skills, engage in learning and exploration, and find avenues to express the knowledge gained
6H → the importance of daily practice and consistent work on said acquired skills
when these houses are in alignment, they pave the way for recognition in 10H and 11H.
10H → gaining recognition
11H → benefits and influence that comes from being recognized
by pouring constant dedication into these houses, one can expect significant growth and positive outcomes!
jupiter aspecting ascendant/sagittarius rising/jupiter in 1H 🤝 bootylicious + hourglass curves! this can also manifest in having bigger than “average” features (example: big eyes, big smile, prominent thighs).
the “BODY SO TEA” phrase was literally made them lmao
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capricorn moons often tend to be the ones who frequently disappear without a trace. they carry a heavy burden of responsibility for all aspects of their life, and often possess a strong desire for control. when faced with a situation beyond their control, they can become overwhelmed with anxiety and allow their fears to take over, resulting in the ghosting. also, i noticed that they find it challenging to find any glimmer of hope in any given circumstance. even though it is widely believed that having the moon in scorpio is the most difficult, capricorn moons may have them beat. 
moon in 8H synastry is not for the weak—it is truly life changing. for this overlay to work, both individuals must have developed the ability to harness and channel powerful energy. without this, the relationship can feel unstable and unpredictable, with both individuals feeling like they're being pulled in different directions but haunted in love, in the best and worst way possible. it is worth noting that this overlay tends to have a strong impact on both individuals involved but it primarily affects the moon person.
✧ positive aspects: creates a deep emotional and psychological connection that allows both partners to truly understand connect with each on a profound level. this bond is so intense that it defies words and creates the desire to explore and uncover the depths of each other’s being. for instance, the 8H individual may possess an innate inclination to understand the moon and their innermost self, initially overwhelming the moon but ultimately embracing because of the sense of comfort provided by the 8H energy. this mutual willingness to explore and understand each other nurtures trust, openness and above all, an indescribable love within the relationship.
✧ negative aspects: gaslighting and power imbalance. the desire for control can create an unhealthy dynamic where both are constantly vying for power, leading to a breakdown of trust and emotional well-being. can also lead to being possessive toward one another that will result in the individuals feeling trapped. the possessiveness can stem from a deep sense of longing for each other, which will only further perpetuate the cycle of unhealthy dynamic (lovers to enemies trope + make up/break up). 
one comparison that comes to mind is the tumultuous relationship between olivia pope and fitz in scandal. if you’re unfamiliar with these two, i recommend checking them out on tiktok (despite their toxic tendencies, their relationship was a guilty pleasure for the viewers because of the intensity and undying love they had for one another. like, i don’t know anyone who watched the show that wasn’t a fan of olitz lmao) 
i also had this overlay with a former partner, and my goodness, was it something. he was the only partner i’ve had who could evoke such intense emotions in me and i found myself completely vulnerable to his touch (in a good way). the chemistry was so powerful, i really believed he was the one for me. but like i mentioned, as with any intense relationship, there were both positive and negative aspects to the connection. while the positive side was truly otherworldly, the negative ultimately won out and caused the relationship to come crashing down. i plan to delve deeper into this experience and share the do’s and dont’s of this synastry in a future post.
understanding astrology can be a valuable tool in gaining insight into your true self. to get a sense of the practice, i feel like it is essential or to at least explore “traditional” western (tropical + sidereal) and vedic astrology. each chart offers a unique perspective on your personality and life path, and by studying them, you can gain a more comprehensive understanding of your place in the world!
i have so much more to share but i’ll save that for another post. please remember that this only for entertainment purposes only and based on my observations! i’ve also linked the findings in case you want to read for yourselves. thank you so much for reading!
sending all my love, 
artemis x
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amberartspng · 5 months
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For the past few weeks I have been working on a Blue Sargent character design project. This project posed multiple challenges I wanted to tackle. This biggest one was balancing eccentricity, fashion, and artistic appeal. I wanted Blue's outfits to feel as extraordinary as her, but I also wanted her outfits to feel intentional and full of personal style- not just noise. It was important to me that her style felt realistic to her, which meant that they had to feel inexpensive, homemade, and accessible.  Repurposed fabric, handmade accessories, and clashing patterns make frequent appearances.
I am super interested in how Raven Cycle fans feel about each outfit since the most important thing to me is that the outfits feel like her. please let me know!! I am willing to go back and redo outfits if it means they feel more like Blue Sargent.
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mousedetective · 3 months
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Please Help A Mentally Ill, Mostly Queer Homeless Family Stay Housed This Holiday Season?
PAYPAL | AMAZON WISHLIST | KOFI | GOFUNDME
VENMO: @penaltywaltz | CASHAPP: $afteriwake23 | ZELLE: DM me for email address
12/27/23 - Updated Post!
NEW GOAL!
$1290/$2013
(Original goal met, now edited for additional room help, food, bills and other things needed)
If I can get the entire amount still needed, I can do the following:
Get the hotel room for over a week, which will let us come and go without worrying about having to spend all day trying to raise money and we can run important errands next week
Close three open collection accounts my mom has by paying them off in full via her debt consolidation company, and pay off two defaulted payday loans
Pay off her PayPal debt so that PayPal will reopen her account
Have money to make a payment if I can get the debt collection company to find her other credit card account I need to arrange payments on
Get food after the 10th, because I fully expect both myself and my mom to be out of food stamps by then (also, I don't know who did it, but BLESS YOU to the person who bought us three DoorDash gift cards off the Amazon wishlist...I just wanted to put that out there in case you didn't send a gift receipt)
Most of this will be a huge help in getting us to be able to qualify for housing that requires credit checks, and helping Lena get her health stuff sorted and figure out if she has any other debilitating illnesses will help give her disability appeal more strength, which will help her get an income to support herself. So please reblog this version if you can, and help with money or wishlist items if you can (the restaurant gift cards go a long way, plus I desperately need the clothing for me because I've lost 40 pounds this last year and most of my stuff is now too big). Thank you for reading this, and I hope you have an awesome day!
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bleucalire · 1 month
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Artist question, what is something that you think beginner artists tend to over think?
I'd say "style", maybe ?
I see many beginner artists "searching for their own style" but i don't think there is such a need ? Just draw the way you're more comfortable with, the way you find the more fun/appealing. You can also switch, and try many things, i think there's nothing wrong with trying many ways of drawing that are very different, but that you enjoy nonetheless ! Also, a thing that i learnt when coming to japan (and that i was never really told when i was in france) is the importance of COPYING drawings of illustators/animators you like ! As an exercise of course. Try to draw exactly how they draw, and you'll find new tricks, new ways to synthesize shapes etc. that you might use afterwards ! In the end you'll draw naturally in a mix of all your influences/what you studied.
I think there's no need to draw something thinking "I NEED TO FIND MY STYLE". The more you'll draw and study other artists' works, the more you'll find different ways to draw things, and what are those that are the most comfortable/enjoyable for you. I think it's a natural process. Your "style" is and addition of all the things you love.
As an animator i have to adapt to each production's designs, which is great because i learn new ways to design things everytime, and then i can use them afterwards how i like in my personal drawings!
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I really like trying out new things/ways to draw. I always learn new things that help me in DRAWING IN GENERAL ! (different cones i did these last few years ↑)
Hope this helps ! Just have fun and draw/study a lot what you like and it'll come naturally, i think !
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