#i just want to skip to the part where im happy and healthy

[thelastofhyde]

you cut your hair, and take some space.

pairing. narcos!javier peña x fem!reader

synopsis. an anthology of events that precede and procede the termination of you and your father's best friend's sexual relationship. this is part 1 of 2 !

warnings. no use of y/n, age gap , student!reader, dbf!javi, post-s3!javi, officer!javi bc i said so, break up au, mutual pining, forbidden lovers kind of vibes, reader has a healthy relationship with her parents, so much crying ( reader spends half her time crying over javi p which is honestly a mood ), violence, undetailed depictions of sa ( not javi ), smut ( creampie, breeding kink through the roof, domesticity kink?? javi just wants to love and be loved and start a family, dacryphilia, indecent use of a credit card, spanking, dirty talk, prostitution kink?? i feel like i'm making these up at this point, + a hell of a lot more ) this fic is based on bsc by maisie peters except this has a happy ending bc im a sucker for mr. peña :( not all warnings listed here appear in this part, these are warnings for the fic as a whole !

word count. 15k

hyde’s input. this was written over the course of four months and could easily be used in court to prove i am, in fact, unequivocally in love with one mr. javier peña. if you take the time to read it, just know i appreciate it so much. i really poured my heart and soul into this and, as someone who's been writing for years, it's been so long since i've written something so self-indulgent that's brought me nothing but joy to write. as the fic has surpassed 30k words, meaning it would likely crash the tumblr site for anyone trying to read it, i've decided to post it in two parts. part two will be posted within the following weeks.

(it'a nearly 4 am as i post this, please look the other way at any typos or editing errors.)

“i told you, corazón mia (my heart),” he can't meet your eyes. “made it clear from the start i wasn't looking for anything serious.” “i know,” you heave in a breath, hold back a sob. “but if it wasn't serious, why'd you treat me like it was?”

I cut my nose to save some face You cut your hair and take some space.

The mirror is not clean enough to see yourself.

Where there are usually your eyes, there’s a discoloured splotch of brown. A crack runs down the left of what should be your face. Someone’s taken it upon themselves to draw a cartoon penis just where your mouth is. But in your drunken haze and laser focus, you don’t care enough to notice. All you see is the spot where your nose is, a tiny ball of silver nestled just above your right nostril.

It’s something new to fidget with.

On the flip side, it stings like a bitch. Or, more appropriately, like the tequila shots that led you to this run-down tattoo parlour.

You wonder if, come the morning and mental clarity, you’ll regret it.

If you do, you’ll blame him.

Your night was going fine. Good, even. And, with a lack of good nights in the recent week, that was an accomplishment.

You’d dressed up, let loose, had fun. A friend on either arm and a drink close at hand, you’d giggled and gossiped your way through this impromptu girls’ night.

They’d ambushed you, in a way, forced their way through the barricade of tissues and take-out boxes into your apartment. A skimpy dress tossed at your head and four hands dragging you, limb by limb, into the shower.

Get some dinner, hit the town, get fucked up. That was the plan they set out for you.

You skipped dinner, dove head-first into the town.

You were careful all night to never speak of him.

One part fearful it would summon him, another part embarrassed to admit just who you’d gotten tangled up in. A third part, tucked away in a locked closet, ready to do it all over again.

And then it happened.

You didn’t say his name, no.

Not aloud.

You thought it, for just a second, hearing the person beside you at the bar order the same drink you’d watched him nurse time after time. It wasn’t him but, instead, a man far too short and a clean-cut kind of handsome to even begin to compare to the ex-agent.

But it was enough to make you want to leave.

Giving up your space, you’d made your way back to your girls and made up some little white lie, surprised neither of them called you out on it- what kind of bar doesn’t have white wine?

They left to find someplace with wine, you left to find some peace of mind.

The bar they dragged you into was familiar, the setting of many of your father’s stories. It only took you walking through the door, tugging down the dress-too-short, to hear your name called across the floor.

“Hey kiddo!” Your dad’s a tell-tale kind of drunk, his eyes giving away even the smallest sip of alcohol he has. He was just tipsy, scooting his way out of a tattered booth to wrap you up in his arms. It felt as nice as it did guilt-inducing, knowing you’d been avoiding his calls all week since The Incident. A punishment to yourself more than one aimed at him. “You here yourself? Could join us for the night, if you like. Ain’t that right, boys?”

It was only then that you’d realised two men were sat within the booth, collars undone and ties loosened after a week’s work.

There were usually three of them.

"We’re just waiting on Peña." Oh god, it makes you feel sick. Heart in your throat, stomach at your feet. His name no longer feels real, not when spoken by anyone but you.

“And raising bets on his tardiness,” one of your father’s friends said. You recognised him from a few of the barbecues and Christmas parties your dad's thrown. He's nice, responsible. Married, to a woman his own age. “I’m saying he’s chasing some tail. God knows he could use some stress relief. Boy’s been wound up all week, nearly bit my head off for asking him about some files."

It’s a wonder none of the three men- one a retired lawyer, the other two members of the force- noticed the blood drain from your face.

“My guess is he’s pulled some muscle in his back and can’t get himself out of bed,” a nudge from your father’s elbow, delivered straight to your ribs. “Whatcha think, kiddo?”

You didn’t have an answer.

You didn’t get to give an answer.

“You need to quit speaking ‘bout me like you’re not a whole decade my senior, viejo (old man),” it came from behind you and threatened you to look. Like the foolish final-girl in a slasher, you ignored your basic instincts and glanced over your shoulder.

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but you know what you were hoping for.

Tired eyes, chewed lips, unkempt facial hair. A twitch of sadness drawn between his brows and the stains of cigarette ash on a worn-out suit.

Javier Peña was none of that.

The suit, grey. One that fit him all too well and had you wishing you could stain it with your drink.

The signature moustache, perfectly groomed, sitting perched above the bow of his pouty lips, rosy-red and fresh for picking.

His eyes have always given him away but, staring down at you in that moment, they read only as passive, unaffected.

It was like, nothing.

And, yes, that’s what you’d asked for- from now on, whenever you see me, can you at least pretend that none of this happened?

But he's smart enough to know you didn't mean it, right?

“Hey officers, sorry to interrupt but,” a hand curled around your arm. It tugged and you let yourself be inched away from heavy brown eyes and your father’s smile. “She’s ours for the night. We’re going clubbing!”

That was never part of the plan.

Neither was skipping dinner, though.

You caught the back of him as you were dragged away, some pleading from your father to take it easy and call me in the morning, and noticed it only then.

His hair, freshly cut.

“‘S getting too long,” a mumbled sort of thing, hidden in your neck, spoken against your pulse. A kiss placed upon it, and then another for extra measure. Fingers dragging through his hair, ridding him of the knots your very same hands had worked into them an hour of passionate touching ago. “Lo sé (I know).”

A pause of silence. The blissful moan birthed from nails on his scalp. And, then, “no. It’s nice, I like it.”

That puppy-dog stare, so particular to the cool-down moments between you, meets your own, chin propped up on your sternum. He’s sweet like this, honeyed skin and pleasant smiles.

“Yeah?” He asks, like he even needs to. “You like it, corazón (sweetheart)?” You opt for a hummed confirmation, finger tracing over the arch of his nose. “Guess I better keep it this way, then.”

Now he’s gone and chopped the overgrown curls off.

In a way, it feels like he’s cut you off with them.

We don’t speak cause it’s too tricky But if I’m tricky, why’d you kiss me?

The next time you see him, a wedding is taking place.

He sits on the groom’s side, you sit on the bride’s.

It feels unreasonable to be surprised by his presence. Why wouldn’t he be here, sitting four rows from the back, at his cousin’s brother-in-law’s wedding?

The bride is gorgeous, the groom is in tears. The priest drones on a little too long.

Somewhere between the exchanging of vows, and the ceremonial kissing, and the cheering of guests, your instincts get the better of you and you glance back at him.

He’s already staring right back, eyes ignited with something that weakens your knees and shakes your confidence. The newlyweds walk down the aisle, cut through your line of sight. He’s still staring at you when they’ve passed.

The reception takes place in the events room of some glammed-up hotel, the kind you can barely afford the one night you’re booked in for.

An open bar, a local band. The catering is tasteful, handpicked by the couple, and the table you feast at is so far away from his that you don’t get that chance to see if he chose the chicken or the beef.

You find a friend behind the bar, in the shape of a bottle and toothpick-impaled olives.

You dance till your feet hurt, slip away to your table, take off your heels. You’re back on the dance floor in time to catch the bouquet, too busy basking in the envy of the other women to notice his eyes burning a hole in the back of your head.

If it weren’t for the dent in your bank account made by the room you booked, you’d gladly dance away the whole night. But if a bed with a view costs double your rent, you’ll be damned if you don’t get to sleep in it.

So you stumble to the elevator.

Clutch your heels and flowers to your chest, struggle to remember your floor number. The fifth floor seems to ring a bell, but it might’ve been the eighth floor. Your room key! Maybe, you hope, that’ll have your floor number on it. You struggle with your purse’s zipper, trying your best to pry it open.

You succeed, but at what cost? Heels and bouquet tumble to the floor, thumping and clunking as they knock against it, flower petals falling loose.

You try to bend down, stretch your fingers out to grasp the clasps, seize the stems. A wave of exhaustion mixed with too much alcohol washes over you and you stand up straight again. Take a calming breath, do a little song and dance before reaching down again.

“Déjame. (Let me.)”

Scuffed shoes come into view as you’re halfway down, bent at the waist and holding your balance with one arm against a wall. You stand up straight, too fast, lose your balance and stumble forward.

He catches you.

For a moment, it feels like you’ve never left his arms.

“C’mon, let’s get you to your room.” You hate the way he ends his sentence, no term of endearment and no impure intentions.

He asks for your floor, you give him your key. He punches the number into the elevator and it shakes to life.

Neither one of you makes an attempt to part. There’s a chance he pulls you closer to him. You let yourself melt, regardless, muscles relaxing and sinking into his arms.

He’s still warm. He’s still steady. but his cologne’s different and it makes your eyes sting.

You’d warned him he was about to run out of his signature bottle, made a note to buy him another one for his birthday or Christmas, whichever came first.

“You look like you had fun,” he rasps out, eventually, as the elevator slips past the fifth floor.

“I did,” you tell a partial truth. You would have had more fun, if he’d stood at your side, ate at your table, danced in your arms. But you can’t say that, because he doesn’t want that.

“I’m glad.”

It turns out your floor is the ninth. He’s careful to guide you out the mobile-box, hand on your hip, pressing you to his side. Your heels dangling from one of his fingers and the bouquet gripped in his palm, smacking against his thigh every other step. A little down the hall and there you find it, your precious and expensive home for the night.

It’s easier to let him open the door, he tells you.

It’s easier to let him guide you to bed, you tell yourself.

Dropping the heels on the floor, he disappears out of your line of sight and you stare motionless at the ceiling above, buzzing in your brain and pain in your heart.

You’ve never shared a space like this with him, one that’s hollow and decayed. The shell of a creature that’s long abandoned it, grown too big for its home.

Your eyes sting all over again, this time enough to brim with unfallen tears.

A thud against the nightstand.

You roll onto your side and find he’s still here, a glass of water and some painkillers lay to rest at your bedside. The first tear gives way, running down your cheek and dropping to the crisp white sheets below. Even more fall as he raises a damp cloth to your face, wiping away smudged mascara and bringing your lips back to their natural colour.

The undressing is gentle and so unlike his usual impatience.

Fingertips drag down each inch of skin released as he unzips the back of your dress, tugging it down and folding it by your heels. The weight off your chest helps you breathe as he unhooks your bra. Left only in your underwear, the sheets ruffle as he drags them up your tired limbs and tucks them under your chin.

“Get in bed, please,” you plead like you have any right to ask that of him. “Javi.”

It’s the first time you’ve said his name since that night in May. His shoulders tense and release, his fingers smooth down his moustache. He looks like he’s going to fulfil your request, slip in behind you and wrap you up in his soft but steady embrace.

He looks like he wants to.

His back cracks as he bends down and presses a kiss.

Against your forehead, lips that linger.

Then, he stands up straight and walks out the door.

On the forehead, way up north Pressed the scar and found the source

Vermont, ‘98.

That’s where it all began.

Your dad, turning fifty.

Javi just hit forty.

It was someone in the station who had the wild idea they celebrate it together. The sheriff and the station’s rookie- really, a hardened, inching-out-of-a-fresh-retirement former DEA agent your father manipulated back into the force, some promise of a light workload and a hefty pension. With no need for money, you wonder why he ever accepted the offer.

Plans were set, money was put in a pot, and a wheel of fortune was spun. It landed on the northern state, a downpayment to rent a ski lodge placed within a matter of twenty-four hours.

Somewhere along the way, you’d been roped into joining this boys-only trip. Your dad argued you needed a break from studying. Your mother argued there needed to be a responsible adult to supervise your dad. and, well, a free holiday never hurt nobody, right?

Wrong.

The final evening, with a constant pounding of a hangover never-quite-nursed, a litter of bruises down your back from falling and a firmly closed chapter on any possible career as a ski prodigy you may have had, you trailed your way down to the only bar in the tiny ski town.

Textbooks on the table, glasses on your face.

A half-drank glass of cabernet, an empty plate.

Peaceful and quaint, until it wasn’t.

The cheer of a frat-boy out in the wild warrants the same response as hearing a lion’s roar in the dark of the Saharan night.

The kind you hear them before you see them, spilling through the door in their obnoxious jerseys and their face-painted cheeks. one wore the badge of honour, a giant Soon To Be shackled Married printed poorly onto the back of his jersey.

You put your head down, breathed more subtly.

The pride stormed their way over to the bar, pounding their fists onto the surface and gnashing their teeth, spit spilling down their mouth as they brutally tore into the bartender, demanding pints of beer and rounds of shots.

The key was to avoid eye contact, keep low and out of sight.

They dispersed through the area, sniffing out free booths and the occasional local to irritate out of their seats.

One of them found the jukebox and wasted his coin on blasting Pour Some Sugar On Me. The group of older women playing bingo scowled and made their way out of the joint, calling it for the night.

You got up to follow suit, hands slowly packing up your belongings and slinging your bag over your back.

Inching towards the exit, footsteps light as a feather.

“Woo! Look at you,” just as you were close to slipping out the door, a single member of the pack spotted you, prowling his way over. He already had his chest puffed out by the time you turned around. “Ain’t seen an ass like that since we left the city!”

Hardly charming. Tame, compared to other things frat boys have said to you.

“Why don’cha come join me and my buddies over there?” He nodded back at them, like they weren’t the obnoxious centres of everyone’s attention.

You were not scared of him, exactly. But you’ve seen where things can go. Heard about it, countless times, from your own father.

So you spoke with caution, gripping your bag a little tighter, “thanks, but I’ve got an early flight. Have a nice night-” He told you his name, like you cared. “Yeah, thanks, bye.”

And then you were stepping out into the quiet of the night.

Fresh air, cold enough to sting your lungs. You breathed it in like it was going out of fashion.

You barely got a moment to compose yourself before that grating voice was back in your ears.

“Oh don’t be a buzzkill!” He whined, you cringed. Took a step back, watched him move an inch. “It’s early, stay. Have a drink.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“To have fun?! C’mon, it’s too cold to be out here by yourself.”

“I have an early flight.”

“It’s just one drink, sweetheart. I ain’t asking you to sign your life away.”

A couple bumped past you both, weaved their way between you. His eyes trailed after them, your feet twisted around, carrying you away from him slowly, carefully. Best not to make yourself look like prey, not to this predator.

“Hey!” He called after you. Your steps sped up. “Where you going, sweetheart?”

It didn’t even matter that you were walking in the opposite direction of the ski lodge. You told yourself you would find your way back, once this lion was off your back.

“I ain’t done talkin’ to you!”

The lion pounced, sank his claws into your back and ripped through you.

Your hand flew out to break your fall, the contents of your bag spilling out onto the sidewalk.

Pain, the kind that stings. It nipped at your knees, and your hands, and your eyes. Pushed it down, pulled yourself up.

He froze, maybe surprised at his own actions, maybe waiting on the chance to pounce once more, this time with his fangs instead of his claws.

You wouldn’t give him the chance. Filled your bag, collected your senses and ran.

It was tricky on frozen ground, trying so hard to not look back.

He followed and you knew it, heard it. Roaring and growling, chasing you down streets you’d never walked.

You slipped, momentarily, slammed into a wall. A crossroads, go right or go left.

You don’t remember which direction you turned.

“Quit running, you bitch!”

He was still following, how was he still following?

Caving in, you glanced over your shoulder and saw the blurry figure of him running after you.

He was getting faster. Maybe you were getting slower.

You came to a screeching halt, body smacking into something solid. Eyes shut, mind alive. You feared the worst, hoped for the best, expected to open your eyes and find yourself trapped in a dead-end, nowhere to run from this predator.

Instead, you heard your name. Called softly, at first. Gentle, coaxing you to pay attention. The second time it was more urgent, worried and aggressive. You sank deeper into the wall, felt your feet shuffle on the gravel below.

“...Gotta let me know, nena,” the wall pulled you back from it, a firm grasp on your forearms. Your eyes opened and met his. “Fucking Christ, look at the state of you.”

You’d not known much about Javier Peña at the start of the trip.

Your dad had mentioned something about a family ranch. Your mom let it slip that he’d enjoyed the pumpkin pie she’d brought to the station’s Thanksgiving feast.

There’d been one time you’d caught the end of a conversation between him and your dad. Nothing concrete, just some shameful mutterings about Colombia and Los Pepes. You’d left once you heard your dad start to comfort the man, deciding your intruding on the moment had already gone too far.

You now knew he liked his whiskey, no ice. His coffee, no milk. His bread, no butter.

He didn’t like the mess of mixing things, and you had to wonder if it had always been this way. Or had he learned his lesson, the hard way? Mixed the wrong things, burnt his own blessings?

“You’re bleeding,” he announced it, fresh news for you.

A pleasant warmth thrummed through your veins as he took hold of your hand, inspecting it under his scrutiny.

His thumb swiped over your palm.

Your mouth winced, your arm pulled back.

He held you in place.

Something visceral shifted in him, enough to coax you to glance at him.

He was looking past you, eyes a deadly killer stalking their prey. You followed their line of sight and found the lion at the end of the street. Standing still, arms at his side, eyes a little wider than you remembered them. You’d not really been looking, in the first place.

The former agent twisted you behind him, an effortless shield. Took an urgent step toward the frat boy, and then another three.

You grasped at his sleeve and tugged him back, didn’t let him stray too far.

“I’m fine,” you lied. He didn’t believe you, furrowing his brow. “I’m just cold.”

He seemed to hesitate, softened by a tremble in your voice.

He glanced back to see the lion was retreating, staggering his way back to the pride of frat boys. A perfect opportunity for him to attack, from behind and unexpectedly.

“Leave it, he’s not-” The sting in your eye got the best of you and a tear tracked itself down your cheek. You wiped it away with your scraped hand, leaving behind a smear of gravel and blood. “It’s not worth it.”

You said it not for the agent’s sake, but the boy’s.

The agent puffed out a breath of frustration, then followed your plea. Turned back to you, licked his thumb and swiped off the dirt on your cheek. Pulled you in, against him once more, and pressed a deliberate kiss against your forehead.

It was instinctual, no thought placed behind his action.

He did it because that seemed to be in his nature: to nurture.

“C’mon, the lodge is this way,” he pointed in some direction.

You didn’t bother paying attention, more than willing to follow wherever he led.

“Put this on.” It was not posed as an option, not when the agent tugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders.

Somewhere along the path, you realised you’d lost your key to your cabin. Your dad carried the other.

Officer Peña offered to take you to him, drinking down in the ski lodge’s bar with the rest of the men.

You shook your head, told him your dad couldn’t see you in that state.

He took you back to his own cabin instead.

Cleaned up your hands, put on the fire, poured you a drink.

Then fucked you into his bed, till you clawed and sobbed around him.

If you don’t love me, Why’d you act it?

Late june brings nothing but gloom.

You get bored quick, no college to fill your days. Pick up extra shifts, hope to combat the empty feeling in your chest with the rush hour traffic that torpedoes it’s way through the cafe.

Friends invite you out, you rarely go. They tease you’re becoming a recluse, and that just makes you want to shut yourself in even more.

Tonight, you’re appeasing them.

Some line dance event, downtown in a bar that’s only gimmick seems to be a worn-down mechanical bull. It’s missing a horn and no one seems to know why.

Truth be told, you don’t want to go.

You want to stuff your face with take-out while you melt into your couch, watching reruns of the first season of Friends and drooling over Joey till you forget about another smooth-talking, raven haired man.

Here you are instead, fighting against the cheesy cowgirl hat till it sits on your head correctly.

In the mirror, it’s still lopsided.

The clock sits at eight forty-seven.

They’re 2 minutes late.

You give up, decide to pretend you want the hat this way. Slip on your jacket, do a sweep around your apartment: windows locked, flat iron off, fridge closed. Grabbing your purse, you unzip it and wrestle around in it’s contents, searching for your keys.

You pull on something and- it’s a pack a gum.

Dive back in, search again.

An empty tube of lipbalm.

Third time’s a charm, you think, and try once more. Something scratches your fingers, coaxes you to tug it out and inspect it.

A broken earring.

A familiar car honk’s outside, you stay frozen in place, staring at the broken hoop and counting one, two, three.

Bile burns the back of your throat.

He opens on the fifth knock.

Any other night, he practically rips the door off it’s hinges and tugs you in, before you can so much as raise your fist for a second knock.

Maybe he was busy, on the toilet or on the phone. You don’t think too much into it.

He steps aside, lets you in. Stands so far away, it’s hard to read his eyes.

The air’s uncomfortably quiet.

You think’s it’s all in your head, self-doubt at an all time high after a bad day.

“My earring snapped today,” there’s a growing pit in your stomach, just from staring at him. He looks so distant, not present. Mind a galaxy away. "Your favourite ones, too. You know, the little hoops with-”

“The hearts dangling from them.” He finishes, on your behalf, and it’s the first green flag you see. Green enough to lull yourself into a faux calm.

The silence returns.

You rock backwards on your heels, glance around the apartment. Try to find what has changed, because this no longer feels like the place you’ve grown so familiar with. And neither does the man observing you from a distance, hands glued to his sides.

He should be touching you by now, in any way he could: his foot bumping against yours under his dining table, his hand trailing patterns over your shoulders as you settle into his side on the couch, his tongue delving between your folds as you lay splayed out on his sheets.

You notice his bedroom door is shut.

It’s never been shut before.

“Is- Am I-” You don’t have to find the words, but the courage to speak them. “Do you have someone over?”

He blinks, slowly.

It’s hard to tell if it’s from guilt.

“Because if you do, that’s fine!” It’s not. “I understand,” You don’t.

He doesn’t answer.

You keep talking.

“Totally chill, I’ll comeback some other night. Or, you can just come by mine! Yeah, actually, that sounds better. Won’t risk interrupting again-”

“This needs to stop.”

You don’t have to question it.

You do, anyway.

“What?”

“Us. This-” He’s pointing between you both, a little haphazardly. It’s like he’s rushing to get the words out, get it over with. Get you out his apartment. “Thing we’re doing. It’s done.”

“I don’t underst-”

He cuts you off with your name. “Why’d you come here tonight?”

He’s stern.

Not in the way that makes you want to bend to his will and indulge in all his sins. But in a way that makes you feel dirty, wrong. A child scorned for touching fire and getting themselves burnt.

“I,” you’re beginning to wish there was someone else in his bed, so she could stroll out of his room in one of his stupidly soft shirts and interrupt this conversation. “Uh, I had a bad day.”

“Okay,” he nods. Smooths a hands over his chin, pops out his hip. “What’s that got anything to do with me?”

Everything, you want to tell him.

For every single thing that went wrong throughout your day, seeing Javi gave you something to look forward to.

“I just thought-”

“You thought, what?” His face twists up, just like your insides. He’s angry and you’re the one to blame. “This isn’t a- I’m not your boyfriend.”

I know, you mouth.

Because you do know. Repeat it to yourself all the time.

When he calls to make sure you got home safe.

When you sneak off to pee in the middle of the night and are welcomed back to bed with a forceful tug into his chest, a sleepy, gruffed out ‘where’d you go?’ whispered into your neck.

When he picks up on the things you say, remembers silly things like your favourite toilet paper brand and the exact milk to cereal ratio you enjoy.

Javier Peña is not your boyfriend.

So why does he act like it?

“Look, kid, you’re young, and I know-”

Kid.

That makes you angry.

He wasn’t calling you kid when he bent you over your parents’ bathroom counter.

“Don’t call me kid.”

“And I know,” he pushes through your protest, keeps up the distance. “This can be a lot at your age. Don’t blame you for getting caught up. But whatever you think you’re feeling for me, it’s not-”

“Is this about the p-” The word won’t come out of you, so your change the verbiage. “The hospital? Because I told you, Javi. We’ve been safe. Safer than a pair of purity-ring wearing teenagers-”

“No, this is about me needing to do the right-”

At this point, you’re just interrupting one another.

Fighting to get in the next word, frowning at what you do hear.

He tilts his head back and pinches the bridge of his nose, a groan leaving his cracked lips. You’d imagined him doing that tonight, but not like this.

Eventually, the back-and-forth stops.

Silence.

You take the lead.

“So, what? That’s it just... over?”

“I told you, corazón mía (my heart),” he can’t meet your eyes. “Made it clear from the start I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

“I know,” you heave in a breath, hold back a sob. “But if it wasn’t serious, why’d you treat me like it was?”

It takes him a few minutes to answer. There’s a twitch, in his hand, reaching up only to drop back down at his side.

Usually, he wipes your tears before they get chance to fall.

The rug at your feet turns darker with each wet spot that drops.

“I got caught up,” his eyes seem so sad, so lost. Staring across the ocean of his living room, searching for a lighthouse to pull him safe to shore. But he won’t let you be that. “In the way you deserve to be treated, instead of some sleazy secret.”

He breathes out your name, the most painful melody you’ve ever heard.

“This has to end,” you’re unsure if it’s only you he’s attempting to convince. “Before someone gets hurt.”

Too late, you want to say.

You’re already being torn apart by his hands, and he’s standing ten feet away.

“Corazón, I’m so sor-”

The car honks, again.

You breathe in, and find it’s hard, snot piling up in your nose and tears splashing down your cheers.

Another honk.

You never make it to the line dance.

You curl in on yourself, instead, and fall asleep to the sound of Joey and Chandler’s bickering.

Love’s a verb And not a bandage

In retrospect, it’s hard to tell where the lines begin to blur.

A promise of casual, turned into something fragile.

Whenever you think about it, for too long, your mind carries you back to the same night. A few months after Vermont, you don’t recall the exact date.

All you remember is a pounding at your front door.

1 am. Too late to be causing ruckus.

You nearly trip over discarded shoes, curse earlier-you for assuming you would remember their existence. Undo the bolt, grab the key and then-

Pause.

This could be anyone, anything.

You check the peephole, find exactly who you were hoping for.

He’s on you like a moth to a flame, pressing you flush against him the instant he can fit through the crack in your doorway. Mouth on mouth, hands on waist. The door thuds as he closes it behind you both, you’re too distracted to notice.

You let him invade your senses.

Smell his aged leather and nicotine thrill. Feel his strong arms and bulging crotch. Hear his laboured breaths and muttered pleasantries. Taste his whiskey tongue and metallic lips-

You pull back. He follows.

It’s flattering, his inability to get enough of you, but you halt him nonetheless.

Cup his cheeks, pull down his face, and stare.

“My dad finally figure out who those panties in your glove-box belong to, Peña?” It’s meant to be a joke.

There’s nothing funny about his bleeding lip and split eyebrow.

He graces no response, dives back into you and submerses himself in your touch. Kisses you slow, with deliverance, his final mission to arrest all your sense of self till you turn yourself in to his embrace.

Only as you pass by those discarded shoes do you realise he’s inching you both deeper into the dark of your apartment.

This time, you do trip over them.

It’s okay though, Javi’s there to catch you.

He finds refuge in your neck, burrowing in deep, mouthing at the skin like a dog does a wound. Your arm shoots out to find a light-switch. A warm glow fills the apartment, bathing you both in an orange hue.

The gold of his skin shines brighter.

The red on his skin appears darker.

“What happened to you?” You don’t need to worry about him. And, yet, doing so comes naturally.

“S’not important,” it’s spoken against your skin, as if he intends to seep his gravelled tone into your pores and have it grow a new life for itself within you. A gentle scraping of his teeth sends a shiver down your spine. “I’ll tell you later.”

Later with Javi never seems to come.

‘If you’re not busy, I’ll make you dinner later.’

‘Keep it up and I’ll be fucking that attitude out of you later.’

‘I’ll get these back to you later.’

He’d never made you that dinner.

He’d dragged you into the station’s bathrooms and fucked the attitude out of you only seconds after.

You’d never gotten those panties back.

You decide to grant him no time for later. Shove him down into a seat at your dining table-for-two. Roll your eyes as he asks if you’re “gonna put on a show for me, corazón?”

The makeshift first-aid kit put together by your mother resides at the back of a cupboard, hidden by mugs and cups. It takes several minutes and a smashed glass to manoeuvre it out. You step over the pieces of glass and head straight back to the table, dumping out the contents.

You click your tongue, point your finger. He scoots the chair back from the table and you slip between the space. Press back against the surface, stand between his parted knees and do your best to not look down at the jeans that grant him no modesty.

Distractions are not welcomed, your patient needs tending to.

He’s insisting he’s okay, yet he’s hissing when you dab at the tears in his flesh with betadine. His hands find a place upon your hips and give a tight squeeze as you press butterfly stitches to his no-longer bleeding brow.

“I,” he starts up, an indefinite time of silence passing between you both. He shakes his head.“It’s stupid.”

“Javi,” you stroke your finger over his jaw, tilt his head back to meet your eyes. “The less you tell me, the more I’ll worry.”

It does the trick, unlocks his tongue.

“I was just wanting one drink, was gonna head home... Or to you, after. I had a shitty day at work and... You probably don’t care about that,” he has no idea you’ll hang onto those words for the weeks to come, wondering how to lighten his workload, ease his tension. “Heard some loud-mouth kid beside me at the bar, he was talking to this girl. She gets up to leave, he follows. I was just gonna go back to nursing my drink but-”

He hisses.

You’re pressing too hard on his fragile lip.

There’s no malice in his eyes as you pull your hand back, only soft and tender. He must sense your remorse for hurting him, chasing after your fingers and grazing a gentle kiss upon them.

A splotch of red stains your skin.

“Corazón,” he croons, shifts himself closer to you. His hands grip the backs of your exposed thighs, his chin presses into your lower stomach. A few movie-strand hairs cover the molten brown eyes that stare up at you. “You’re exhausted. Vamos, basta de preocuparte (C'mon, stop worrying), I’m fine. I just wanna crawl into your tiny bed so I can wake up to your bedhead and more back pains.”

It’s a tempting offer, and one you’ve given into far too many times acceptable for the casual agreement you both share.

A deep breath. Your hand lands on his cheek, his eyes flutter shut.

There’s bags under them. Heavy, dark. Bearing the exhaustion he hides behind charming winks and dashing smiles. Your thumb grazes over one and you ache to give him the rest he deserves, the rest his body craves.

“But, what?” You persist, pleading for him to continue his story.

Javi sighs, gives in.

He always gives in, to you, eventually.

“I just- I don’t know, it’s crazy, but I kept thinking of you,” his eyes reopen, sorrow buried deep in his soul and a worry-line etched into his brow. “In that bar. Alone, in Vermont, when you...”

He doesn’t finish his sentence.

He doesn’t need to.

“So what did you do?” It’s best to keep him talking, drag his mind away from whatever dark thoughts those memories bring up.

“I followed them outside,” he admits with a tinge of shame. “Tried to be subtle about it. Lit a cigarette, took a few drags, scoped out the street. Neither of them were around,” you’ve long abandoned the first aid kit, transfixed by the tight grip he holds you in, his hands smoothing up and down the backs of your thighs in an attempt to soothe himself. “I thought I’d maybe read into it wrong. Maybe she was into him, and they’d got a cab back to her place. Or his.”

He’s rambling.

Stumbling through words he deems unimportant, rushing to push out the thoughts that clog up his brain pipes.

You listen closely, swallow up every morsel he offers.

“It was just as I turned to go back inside that I heard something,” his hands no longer dance over your skin. They sit stagnant, halfway up your thigh, fingers flexed and nails digging into flesh. He’s burying himself into any part of you he can, rooting himself in your solid figure. “Rustling, or something. Coming from the alley. And I just... I felt my stomach drop. Followed after it. Found them, him-”

He chokes.

On his words, on his breath, on his failure.

You run a hand through his curls, soothe the lines off his face.

Bend down, drag him up, press your lips to the arc of his nose.

“Didn’t think, I just dragged him off. Punched him, a few times. Felt his nose crack under my fist.” He’s still pushing through, his earlier unwillingness to talk now a streaming fountain you can’t switch off. “I must’ve tripped on some glass, lost my balance. Gave him the space to get a few hits in, and-”

“Did you arrest him?” You cut him off.

He nods.

“Did you help her?”

Another nod.

“Did you get her someplace safe?”

This time, a reply.

“An officer checked her in at the hospital, stayed till her friend arrived.”

“Then Javi,” you make a point of saying his name, remind him of who he is when he’s not on duty. Not parading around with a badge and a gun, and answering to Officer Peña. The shift in his stare tells you it helps. “You did enough.”

A weight slips off his shoulders and he slumps further into you, eyes squeezing shut.

“I didn’t,” frustration steals the show, coursing through his voice.

“What more could you have done?”

“I don’t know... I could’ve-” He groans, like something pains him, and purses his lips. “I should’ve helped her sooner. Followed them, the minute they left. Shouldn’t have let...” A whiff of whiskey reaches your nostrils. Javi pulls you in tighter, breathes in the mixture of sleep-sweat and lingering cologne on the shirt you wear- Pink, the top buttons undone, left behind by him. “Shouldn’t have let you go out alone.”

You whine out his name.

The air is miserable, dragging through your lungs and staining them.

The chair creeks at the loss of his weight, knees straightening him up to his full height. Instinctually, you lean back into the table, head tilting to meet his broken eyes.

He’s searching for comfort, in the only way he knows how.

Slap a bandage over a bullet-hole, place a kiss upon his gaping-heart.

“Not everything about that night was so bad,” you play into his game, splay a hand upon his shirt. Trace a finger over a stained blood spot. “If I hadn’t gone out, then maybe we wouldn’t be...”

The words catch in your throat.

Partially because you don’t know what you are anymore. Boundaries crossed, lines blurring. Hands that hold and eyes that linger. Too close to be nothing, too reckless to be something.

But mostly because he kisses you.

Desperate, hungry. Groaning into your willing mouth.

He’s a man on a mission, to consume your soul right out your willing body. Unravelling you where you stand, he takes pleasure in peeling his shirt off you.

Hot mouth to hot skin, the tip of his tongue meeting the peak of your breasts. Your hands pull at his hair and he grips at your waist.

The descent into madness is quick, bodies melting together in a dance that’s unique, improvised, and yet always in sync.

He tugs at your panties and you undo his belt. He hooks your thigh over his hip and you anchor yourself to his chest. He teases you with a pinch to your clit and you torture him as you cup his heavy balls.

When Javi fucks you, he fucks with purpose.

The table thuds and scrapes along the floor with each punctuated thrust he gives, driving his cock deeper and deeper into your welcoming cunt, the coarse hairs at its base gifting you the occasional thrill of friction on your aching clit.

He’s slurring out curses and pet-names, lavishing you with delightful proclaims of what a pretty girl you are when you 'shut up and take my cock'.

When he does manage a full sentence of logical wording, his forehead’s pressed to your shoulder, his cum coats your thighs and the sweat between your frantic bodies holds you both together.

“There’s not a universe where this doesn’t happen, corazón,” you feel him softening against your thigh, yet you still delight as he drags a finger coated in his own spend up your folds. “Want you too damn much to miss out on you.”

Curling up into your bed that feels too big these days, you grip at the pink shirt and wonder when that changed.

When did Javier Peña stop wanting you?

And I’m spiritual cleansing (but the truth) Is I’m good at pretending (oh and you)

By July, things change.

The stud in your nose is traded out for a silver ring.

The lonely nights in your apartment turn into stumbling back home from some nameless club in the early hours.

Boredom leads to hobbies.

At first, you try pottery.

Four plates broken and a crumbled mug later, you put on your dance shoes.

Slip. Almost break your arm. Wrestle with the doom placed on your budding dance career. Throw out the dancing shoes, bring home running shoes.

You hate it, running.

You sweat, you ache, you exhaust.

But when you’re gasping for a breath and your feet pound into concrete ground, you don’t think about it.

The heartache.

The headache.

The agent.

You drop a few pounds, tone up your muscles. Watch your body’s shape outgrow your wardrobe, investing in a new one while clinging onto the items you love too much to lose.

Like the dress that now rests just below your ass, instead of it’s usual place mid-thigh. Or the sweater that once hung loose, that now hugs new curves and creases. The jeans that were tight now sliding off your hips.

The pink shirt still lives on one of your hangers.

But you’re not thinking about it, or it’s previous owner.

Not right now.

Now, you’re balling your fists and counting your breaths. Music blasting through your headphones, sweat dancing on your forehead.

The sun is warm on your back, even as it makes way for night to begin. This is the best time to run, dusk, you’ve discovered.

No kids loitering on park grounds, no threat brought on by the dark, no slow-walking pedestrians crossing your path.

You run your self-made circuit with freedom, switching off all your senses and emptying your mind.

Today, however, it’s more challenging.

The thought of him creeps through, no matter the effort you put in to fight it. Your father’s the one to blame.

You have to come, kiddo.

The phone-call still echos through your thoughts.

Because it wouldn’t be the same without you there.

You’d wanted a better explanation than that.

Then, you tried some lame excuse of already having plans.

You had no plans.

Bring your friends then! The more the merrier!

You nearly groaned out loud at his enthusiasm, but held back. Your father’s light didn’t deserve to be dampened by your shadow.

C’mon, kiddo! I’ve not hosted the annual barbecue since you were still wearing your braces!

You bit your tongue. Fought against telling him that, back then, there were no pretty-eyed, heart-breaking agents for you to worry about.

The whole station’s gonna be there, you have to come!

He said it, like that would persuade you.

Keep asking about ya, the whole lot of them.

The more he spoke, the less you wanted to go.

Just last night Javi was asking how you’re doing!

You’d hung up.

Immediately.

Called back, 3 minutes later. Mumbled an apology and an excuse- I lost signal!- and ultimately agreed to going to the damn barbecue.

Now, you run from the phone call, from the impending doom it brings.

All this heartache and pain, it’s not good for the soul.

Of course, being dumped is a lot easier when the person isn’t your dad’s closest confidant.

It gets hard to breath. Each pound against concrete shakes the cassette player glued to your hip. There’s a sting of tears in your eyes.

Until you come to a screeching halt.

Double over.

Place your hands on your knees.

Dry heave.

You pay no mind to the figure sitting a few feet away on a bench.

Nor to the dog that’s chasing it’s ball back forth between it’s owner’s throws.

You let the sadness flood your soul, deflate you like some discarded party-balloon.

You’ll have to see him.

Spend time near him.

Watch him laugh, and smile, and share beers with your father.

It’s unfair, and you hate him for putting you through this.

For not quitting the force.

For being your dad’s friend.

For not wanting you the same you wanted him.

Want him.

You wipe your face with the back of your hand. Try to stand up straight, get lost in the knots you’d tied into your laces. Sloppy and uneven.

You’re usually more careful.

You catch, in your peripheral, the figure on the bench move. Take it as your sign to compose yourself, get over yourself.

You pick your pace back up.

Manage only a handful-or-two steps.

Your feet fly out in front of you.

Land ass-first on the gravel below.

Beneath the sounds of Olivia Newton-John demanding you get physical, you hear a muffled sorry! yelled out. Spot as the dog rushes to grab it’s ball, halfway down the path thanks to your kick.

You groan and prepare to get back on your feet.

You’re met with a hand in your face, palm open and waiting for you to accept the open offer. You take it, no hesitation.

Big mistake.

The hand tugs you.

You glance up.

And meet the eyes of Javier Peña.

“Easy, tiger,” he coughs up a laugh, like you don’t wind him as you slam into him, full-body force, nerves on fire and all systems shutting down. “You trying to break my ribs?”

It’s no less than you deserves, you think.

And instantly regret it, heart turning blue at the thought of him hurt at your hand.

You take a few steps back, create a safe distance where you can’t smell the remnants of his last cigarette or count the eyelashes that line his eyes.

He asks you how you’ve been, and tries his best to smile.

It comes off as awkward. A crooked line across his lips.

You try to remember the last time he smiled at you and meant it.

You come up empty handed.

Maybe it was back in April. A hospital hallway, one hand clasping yours, the other peeling through the leafs of some medical pamphlet.

Or, was it after, on the drive home, back to his apartment, hand still holding yours while the other spun the wheel?

There’s a vague memory that toils in the depth of your mind.

Sharing an elevator, your heels in his hand, his lips on your forehead.

Wedding attire, a post-party glow.

It’s toyed with you since you woke up in that hotel room, driven half-mad by an image you can’t quite form of him tucking you into bed.

Had he smiled, then?

Had he even been there?

Or was he merely a product of martinis and negronnis-

His fingers grasp your chin, no warning, and tilt your face.

His eyes don’t greet your own. Instead, they’re focused on the centre of your face, inspecting you like a piece of evidence.

“Hmm,” he’s so close, you smell the mint of freshly bitten gum on his breath. Dart your eyes down, catch the glint of his badge poking out his pocket.

He’s still on duty, a tailored uniform contrasting the hair roused by stress. Maybe at his desk, in the office next to your father’s, hands running through his tresses to express frustrations, tensions.

Were they his own hands, or someone with longer, brightly painted nails? Your stomach turns at the thought, your loins warm at the memory of writhing in his desk chair, legs thrown over his shoulders whilst his own dug into the ground below, eager to please mouth and a happy to taste tongue working you to a orgasm muffled by your own hand.

He’d slapped your ass, kissed your cheek and sent you out his office door, wiping your own wetness off your cheek just in time to greet your father.

“You suit the ring,” his voice and a gentle breeze bring you back to the present. To the park. To the heavy feeling that hangs between you both. “I prefer it to that stud.”

“I- What?” Confussion.

You furrow your brow, wipe your sweaty palms over your thighs.

He just smiles, still crookedly, and brings his hand up to your nose.

Adjusts your piercing, swipes his thumb over your cheek.

It’s hard to breath, but you do it anyway.

Thank him, in a struggle to find your voice, with a whisper.

His eyes bore into your own, chase them as you look off to the side, watch the dog still chasing it’s ball and failing to catch it.

You wonder if it’s a cruel metaphor sent by the universe, a symbol of you and Javi.

And then you wonder if you’re the dog or the ball.

Or both.

“You never answered me,” his voice, honey, sweet on your ears. It melts away your other senses, turns you blind to anything other than him. “I want to hear how you’ve be-”

“Peña, if you don’t report your skinny ass to my office in 5 minutes and share a celebratory drink with me, I’m putting you on cleaning duties at our next poker night.”

A static-filled voice blares out his walkie-talkie.

Your father’s voice.

It’s enough to set things right, force your body to retreat from his.

He’s not your Javi anymore, desperate to hear about your day and kiss any aches away.

He’s Peña, your dad’s best friend, meant for nothing more than to be a passing figure in your life.

His eyes are heavy with emotion as he fishes out the device.

Maybe it’s sadness you see.

There’s definitely remorse.

Guilt, too.

“We... Your dad caught the guy that’s been breaking into college girls’ apartments.” He tells you, shares information that should help you sleep better at night. You’ve not done that since the last time he lay next to you. You watch him press down on the call button, hold the speaker up to his mouth. “Do that and I’ll shit in your shower, pendejo (asshole).”

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d commit an indecency within your parent’s bathroom.

But none of that matter, anymore.

You’re already walking away.

Wringing your hands and hoping the tension in your limbs falls out.

He calls out your name, loudly.

Attracts the nosy eyes of people around.

People who know fine well who your father is, who Javier is.

You turn in time to see him half-jog, half-pace his way over to you.

He reaches out for your hand.

And quickly gives up on the thought of holding it.

“I’ll, um,” his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, grinds his teeth in an attempt to say something. “I’ll see you at the barbecue, right?”

He knows the answer.

You still give him it, “yes.”

Smile, uncomfortably brightly, before you turn and walk away once more.

You feel his eyes on you.

And pray he takes no notice of the sob that shakes your shoulders.

Broke me big time It’s funny and I’m laughing baby You think I’m alright

You’re laughing but it’s mostly fake.

A courtesy, a polite gesture. A signal that you’re still listening, despite tuning out her voice five minutes ago.

She’s a nice lady, someone who works alongside your father. Specialised in forensics, she balances the darkness of her job with the brightness of her wardrobe.

Today, she’s paired a lemon-yellow skirt with a vibrantly orange camisole. She looks like a walking cheese cube.

You’ve known her since you were a kid, even if you can’t remember. She claims you used to stand on her desk, make a big spectacle out of nearly matching your dad’s height.

You’d got to talking to her after she helped you wipe ketchup off your chin.

That was half an hour ago, and the discomfort of wanting to be anywhere but here is finally settling in.

It’s not her fault. You know.

She’s not the one who roped you into going to this barbecue.

Your dad is.

And right now he’s stood on the other side of his backyard, half-drunken beer bottle in one hand and Javier Peña’s shoulder clapped under the other.

Even from here, you can hear him bragging.

So then Peña’s on his ass.

Chases this guy, whilst he’s driving down the street!

Catches him at an intersection, physically rips him out the car.

All while the man in question shrugs, sheepish. Dismisses your father’s praising.

He’s exaggerating.

The guy was barely going 5 miles an hour!

He stepped out the vehicle at his own will.

Sweat lines his forehead, shirt-sleeves hug his biceps, joy wrinkles his eyes.

He’s happy, at ease. Enjoying himself, in a way he was always meant to.

Something about him fits so perfectly in this picture: laughing with your father, complimenting your mother, playing fetch with your dog.

If you step inside the frame, it cracks.

Shatters.

And maybe he knows that.

Knew it all along.

Broke things off before you could try find a frame large enough to fit you all in.

And, though it hurts, you see why things had to end between you and feel relieved it happened before it was too late.

The feeling lasts all but four seconds.

“Kiddo!”

Your father’s voice is obnoxiously loud. Several of the party-goers turn their heads, follow his line of sight. Spot you, frozen in place, glass full of watered down lemonade and a belly full of dread.

It takes a moment, but you wave.

“Come over ‘ere!”

Not the response you were hoping for.

Still, you do as he asks. Smile at your mother, shuffle your feet, make your way across the yard. Do everything in your power to not look at Javi.

Even if the weight of his stare threatens to crumble you.

“You having a good time?” Your dad’s got this smile, big and dopy and oh so caring, that you can’t bring yourself to ruin with the truth.

“I’m having a great time,” you barely manage out before he’s squeezing you into his side.

The condensation on his bottle of beer seeps through the shoulder of your top, his arm secured safely around you.

He must be tipsy already, a buzz in his veins making him more affectionate than normal.

“I can’t believe it,” he laments, speaking to no one in particular.

In your peripheral, you fail to ignore tight jeans and a loose-fitting shirt.

It’s hardly buttoned, the top three undone and leaving a golden plain on display.

Perhaps you’re going crazy but he seems thinner, skin drawn a little tighter against his ribcage.

It’s not a sight you want to see.

It fills you with dread.

Pulling you out of your own head, you father continues to drone on.

“My little girl’s spreading her wings soon, going on her first adult holiday to-”

“London.”

Javi’s voice, interrupting your father, finishing his sentence.

All eyes snap to him.

Your own, wide and panicked. Scared. Trying so hard to dismiss how intensely he’s staring back you.

Your mother’s, amused and curious. Flicking back and forth between his face and her husband’s.

Your father, confused and perplexed, “I- Yeah...” He speaks slow and the arm on your shoulder slips down. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve been, you know?” Two hands dance in front of you, somewhere in the dark, intwining and unwinding. It’s a nervous habit, of Javi’s. You welcome the contact of soothing touches. “To London.”

That peaks your interest.

Enough to shift positions. Rip your hand out his own, roll onto your side and rest a hand under your propped up head. Your other, inevitably, finds its way upon his warm chest, rests over his no-longer-racing heartbeat.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve been a few times, actually. I’ve got some friends out there.”

With Javi, friends could mean anything.

A fellow agent, a government official, a moonlight lover.

For all you know, this friend could be the Queen of England.

So it’s best you don’t inquire on it.

“Where do you recommend I visit then, Mr. Bond?”

“Mr... Bond?”

The room is dark, but you still notice the furrow in his brow.

You can practically hear it, in his voice.

“You know, like James Bond.” That’s the thing about jokes, explaining them makes you realise how dumb they are. “‘Cause you were an agent and you like London, and he’s an agent in Lon-”

He cuts you off in the way you like best: his mouth against yours.

The kiss is brief, and leads no place further than the simple act of wanting to silence you.

And, though it goes unaddressed, because it’s been too long since he’d last done it.

Even if he’d done so less than an hour ago, naked bodies intertwined on ruffled bedsheets.

“That was the worst pun I’ve ever heard, corazón,” somehow, the words don’t bruise your ego.

Instead, they make you giggle and burrow your heated face into the crook of his neck.

His lips press against your hairline before speaking again.

“I’d need to write you a list of places to go, too many for me to pick one.”

“Maybe I need a tour guide,” a hand of his greets your back, strokes soothing motions back and forth. It’s lulling you to sleep, at last. “Y’know, show me all the places a real Londoner goes.”

“I could,” he pauses. Clears his throat. Pulls you a little tighter against him, till your limbs are tangled and it’s hard to tell where he stops and you start. “I could check my calendar. See how many holiday days I’ve got left. Could come with you, to London, if you want me there.”

It’s too late though.

You’re already snoring against his skin.

“How does he know?” Your mother shatters the silence, tone incredulous. “I mean, seriously, are you blind!?”

For a minute, it feels like she knows.

She knows why Javi knows.

You should be panicking.

Both of you should.

Should look away from one another, should wipe the guilt off your faces, should already be working on some excuse for when your mother exposes what once was between you.

But you aren’t. Neither of you are.

You’re just staring at each other, as if you’re working to commit each other’s face to memory.

“He knows because you won’t shut up about it!”

Your dad gives an unceremonious oh.

Your mom rolls her eyes.

Javi takes a sip of beer and looks off to the side, eyes breaking contact from your own at last.

“Ok but,” your father’s back to talking before you can fully work up the courage to leave. At least that’s the excuse you try give yourself, anything to distract from Javi. “I bet I’ve not told you what she’s decided to do on her travels!”

“You have,” your mother’s tone is pointed.

Javi laughs, sputters up a little beer back into the bottle. Tilts his head back, accepts his own backwash.

There’s a worn-out cigarette box squeezed tight inside the front pocket of his jeans.

You try ignore the fact he’d promised you he was working on quitting.

“Shh,” your father waves a hand in your mother’s face, dismisses her teasing with a playful wink.

Pulls her close, kisses her shoulder.

Gives both you and Javi a display of what a relationship is.

Open, celebrated, acknowledged.

Not secretive, dirty, scandalous.

Javi cuts the tension with a chuckle and a gentle shove to your father’s arm.

As his hand retreats back to his side, his knuckles brush your skin.

“She’s gonna get herself a christmas-tree decoration every holiday,” your father reveals. You’re frozen at the fact he even remembers you mentioning it. “What was it you said again, kiddo? So in the future, when you’re decorating the tree with your kids, you’ll think of the places you’ve been and tell them all about it?”

Your heart drops.

Javi’s seems to do the same.

For a moment, you worry he’s stopped breathing.

Till his chest rises and falls, no thanks to your father’s stupid rambling about you, and the future, and kids.

“Uh, yeah,” the ground can’t swallow you sooner. You’re already planning your exit, from this conversation and, hopefully, this party as a whole. Your dad’ll understand. You just need to tell him something came up. Or came out. Tell him you’ve got food poison. Blame it on some dodgy take-out the night before. “Something like that.”

But I’m actually bloody Motherfucking batshit crazy

There are moments in one’s life where they must question their own sanity.

You’ve lived plenty of such moments.

But none quite like right now, half-crouched in the middle of a grocery store aisle, peeping into the next one through a gap between two cereal boxes on the shelf.

And all because you heard his voice.

“This is what you’re craving?” Through the crack, you see him wave about something in his hand. It’s hard to see what exactly he’s holding, though.

He’s facing a woman.

She’s pretty.

With dirty blonde hair, piercing blue eyes that not even the shelves and produce between you both can block the shine of.

And a well-rounded belly.

“No, Javi, this,” she doesn’t say his name the same way you do- did. There’s a jovial tone, but there’s no awe, no seduction. Maybe that’s just what your bias hears. “Is what the baby is craving.”

You’ve never seen her before.

Not on the mantel of photos that line Javier’s television. Not at any of the station thrown parties. Not in his wallet, tucked behind the picture of his mom.

She’s a total stranger, to you.

But that doesn’t mean she’s a stranger to him.

A very pregnant, non-stranger.

“We gotta get this kid some better taste.”

His hand rests on her bump.

She welcomes it, placing her own against it to hold him in place.

The image of the American dream, a beautiful woman and a handsome man. The promise of a child, soon, half her and half him.

The blood drains from your face. There’s a lump in your throat and a sting in your eyes.

You won’t let it fester.

Take deep breaths, pretend there’s no shake in your exhales.

It’s not enough to stop the vicious thoughts that sink their jagged ends into the soft tissues of your brain.

Was she the reason things between you and him ended?

Had he got her pregnant, decided to stand by her, and found love along the way?

Was he with her, all along, while he was with...

Surely, he couldn’t have.

But, then, why couldn’t he have?

You were never exclusive.

You were never anything.

“Did-” Somewhere, between the aisles, Javi speaks in amazement. The smile is practically dripping off his words. “Did it just kick?”

Your heart’s palpitating.

Your hands are sweating so badly, they threaten to drop the box of Cap'n Crunch in their grasp.

Jealousy turns to misplaced anger, irrational in every form but impossible to conform.

Because, how could he do this to you?

Make a mockery of you, turn you into the other woman?

Love you so deeply and leave you so easily?

Settle down with this woman and her baby, yet run from you at the first scare of a-

“He’s a real kicker, ain’t he?”

At first, you think it’s spoken to you.

But, no, it’s too distant. Too far.

A third person enters your view through the window in the shelf.

He’s handsome, in the typical sense.

Blonde haired, a nice smile.

There’s a little girl in his arms, resting on his hip, half asleep and clinging to a worn-out giraffe doll.

“He?” It’s Javi who echoes.

“Don’t get him started,” the woman seems to beg, rolling her eyes.

The man nods, pride on his face, “I’m telling ya, Peña, it’s gonna be a boy. It needs to be a boy, ‘else I’m gonna be overrun by little girls.”

The woman must give him a pointed look, or a gentle nudge, for not two seconds later he’s following his words up with a tickle to the sleepy girl’s side and “little girls who I love very much.” Pause. He leans closer to Javier, hand covering one side of his mouth as if to block the woman and the child from hearing him. “I still want a son, though.”

“Olivia,” the pregnant woman strokes a hand over the little girl's head, coxing her to keep her eyes open. It’s hard to tell if there’s a drool mark on the man’s shoulder. “Why don’t you show uncle Javi your favourite toy?”

The bile in your throat burns more than ever before.

The misplaced anger bleeds into sadness, shame, embarrassment.

Here you are, going stir-crazy over a man who never wanted much of you in the first place, raising your heart-rate at the thought of him moving on from something that never even existed.

And there he is, fine as can be- in every sense of the word-, sharing laughs and exchanging smiles with old friends in the grocery store.

Friends his own age.

Worlds apart, yet nothing but a shelf between you.

Through the gap, you watch him lean down to the little girl’s eye-level. A twinkle in his eye, he happily tugs at the stuffed giraffe’s tail.

“Glad you liked it, Olive,” curse him, and his soft voice, and his gentle touch and his everything, for still forcing you to swoon over him, knees weak and ovaries treacherously screaming. “I had to go all the way to Africa to find him.”

The little girl perks right up at that.

Eyes widened, head off her father’s shoulder.

“Really?!” She’s amazed, and how could she not be? Javier Peña is beaming at her, ear to ear.

“Mhmm,” he nods, feeds into his own lie, ignoring the disapproving looks from the other man. “If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll go back next year and get you a zebra.”

“Quit lying to my kid, Peña.”

Javi, undeterred from keeping the little girl’s smile, rolls his eyes and pokes his tongue out at her father, huffing under his breath “Your dad’s a right grump, Olive.”

You begin to wonder how long Javi’s known this couple, how he knows this couple.

“Just wait till you’ve got your own kid and I’m feeding it lies.” The man punctuates his empty threat with a dull punch to Javi’s forearm. Javi barely flinches, unfazed. “Speaking of, when are you making me uncle Steve?”

In sync and apart, you and him both physically freeze.

Your breathing stops.

Javier stands up straight. Rolls his shoulders, scratches at the back of his neck, clears his throat and, “not any time soon.”

“Really? What about that girl you’ve been seeing, the-”

“That- We- It didn’t work out, we wanted,” you begin to see cracks in his facade. Fake laugh, solemn eyes. “Different things... I want, wanted to settle down but, yeah, no it was for her best that we-”

“Sorry, can I just,” your heart jumps in your chest, flying back so quickly from your peep-hole that you nearly knock over the person behind you. “Grab one of those?”

You nod, gain composure, watch the stranger pick up a box of cereal off the shelf.

They walk away and you’re left alone, again.

Your eyes flicker up to the shelf and-

He’s no longer standing on the other side.

You turn on your heel, ignoring your half-filled cart and book it out of the store before you fall apart.

Try as you might, you can’t shake off the weight of his stare as you pass by the check-out.

I kept it in, but it wrecked my organs So pour the gin and call Graham Norton

You wake up early.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re seizing the day.

Making the most out of your time upon foreign land.

The early bird gets the worm, and all that proverbial bullshit.

The truth lies in that you can not sleep.

Jetlag. Your body clock is at odds with the timezone.

Which lands you here: strolling upon the cobbled streets of Notting Hill.

A quarter past six.

Its barely light out, the sun still fighting to rise over the horizon and the streetlights still shadow your every step.

Colourful houses, cosy shops, a melodic thud each time your feet meet the ground.

It’s picturesque, straight out of a romantic comedy.

Yet, somehow, you’ve never felt more gloom.

In the silent bustle of a city awakening to a new day, you’re startled.

Trip over a cobble, nearly meet the floor, and just about save yourself from rolling your ankle.

Your ringtone is the culprit.

Loud, imposing. It scares a flock of birds off a wire and gains you a stare from a man stepping out his home.

Scrambling to get the clunky cellphone out your bag, you spare the screen a fleeting glance.

You question if it’s one of your friends, awakened back in your shared hotel room to find you’re not there, and press the green button.

“Corazón.”

It’s funny how one word can drain the blood from your face.

You swallow the lump in your throat, made of equal parts anger and sadness.

Anger that this is the first time you’ve heard Javier Peña’s voice in nearly two months.

Sadness that it sounds so broken down the line.

“I- Shit, I can’t tell if I’ve even dialled the right number...” He’s muttering in your ear, confused and at odds with himself, mouth a fountain his thoughts pour out of. “... Probably changed it or- Can she even receive calls all the way in-”

“I’m here,” it’s only a whisper.

It’s enough to shut him up.

Silence rings down the line, a static buzz that reminds you of the distance between you.

“You’re in London,” he states.

“I am,” you affirm.

He hums, sips something.

Ice clinks against glass, and you feel a little sick.

“How have-” His voice sounds strange. Muffled. Different. Maybe it’s the poor connection. “Was your flight okay?”

“Yeah,” you spare him the details.

The truth.

The boredom, the turbulence. The fact you’re dreading the flight home.

“I’m glad,” he sighs the words out, worry going with them. “Know you’re not the biggest fan of planes, kept thinking of you alone and afraid on it.”

“I wasn’t alone,” it’s defensive, and ironic.

You sure felt alone.

“That’s right, corazón, you weren’t,” something slips, rolls, smashes. Glass shatters and is met with cursing anger, an oh, shit! followed up by hollow laughter. “You’re never alone.”

“Are you...” The street’s a little brighter, a few cars have begun to back out of driveways and you’re still there, frozen in the middle of the street, phone pressed to your ear. “Drunk?”

“No, I’m javi.” If his laughter is anything to go by, he thinks himself the comic of the century. “Had a few drinks with your dad, sweetheart, that’s all.”

For a moment, it feels like you shouldn’t be here, in London.

You should be home, in Laredo, dragging a drunken Javi to bed.

Stripping him of his clothes, kissing his rosied cheeks, urging him to go to sleep. Leaving him a pair of painkillers and a glass of water for his breakfast before curling yourself into his soft arms.

You blink, and feel the familiar weight of a tear on your lashes.

“Why’d you call me, Javi?” It’s a desperate plea.

For answers, for clarity, for closure

“I wanted to hear your voice,” that’s too vague of an answer, too unfair of an answer. Your heart swells nonetheless. “Wanted to go to London, with you. I should be there.”

“It’s your fault,” that’s as cruel as you can bring yourself to be towards him.

Even then, it kills you to do so.

“’S half my fault. Joder (fuck),” you can picture him, leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. You wonder how much he’s drank, and if he spoke to any women. Maybe he took one home, fucked her nice and good before dialling your number. “Wanted to give you my answer, too.”

Someone bumps your shoulder on the street, walking past you.

You pay them no mind, vision blurred to the world around you.

“What answer?”

“Where you should visit, Mrs. Bond,” he says it, like it doesn’t send you into cardiac arrest.

You miss the nights like that one, tangled in your bed, smelling him on your sheets and feeling him against your skin.

He’d woken up first the next day, coaxed you out of bed with the promise of homemade pancakes and his head between your legs.

“There’s this little bar in Inslington, called the Distillery Club. The owner, he makes his own gin. You like gin, don’t you, corazón?” You nod, and it’s almost like he feels it. “It doesn’t look like much from the outside. Or the inside, either. But it’s some of the best gin I’ve ever had, in the greatest company.”

You try to picture him, sat amongst friends you’ve never met. Friends who don’t know your dad.

You try to picture yourself, next to him, scooting your bar stool closer to his.

The image doesn’t quite form.

“Want you to go there, get yourself a drink. Tell him Javier Peña sent you, and that you’ve not to pay.”

It’s like he’s given you a piece of his soul. A piece of his history, someplace he’s sought out refuge in his lowest moments.

Refuge he’s willing to share with you.

That tear finally gives way, dropping off your lash and rolling down your cheek.

You wipe it off with the sleeve of your sweater, before anyone can see.

“Promise me you’ll go, corazón.”

Your reply is instant, “I promise.”

“Ok, I’ll let you go,” it’s solemn, regretful, devoid of truth. You almost beg him not to, but that didn’t work last time. “Enjoy yourself, okay? Come home, safe.”

“Javi, I-” the line cuts off, disconnecting before you even finish. “Miss you.”

I’m gonna throw you down the river Your mum can watch it over dinner

“How you feeling, kiddo?”

You startle awake at your father’s voice, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

Before you can give him an answer, you erupt into a fit of coughs.

“Not good,” he grimaces and slowly steps into your room. “Got it.”

Stepping off the plane, you’d managed only one night back in your own bed before the fever had taken over.

All it took was hearing your nasally voice over the phone for your mother to demand you come stay with them.

Just till you’re back on your feet, she’d said, like she ever needed an excuse to have you over.

She’s not quite adjusted to being an empty-nester.

Neither of them have, really.

“Actually,” your tone is matter-of-factly. “I almost smelt something earlier.”

“That’s great, kid!” And he means it, you know he does. Even if his shoulders slump at any sign of you feeling better and returning to your apartment. “Now we just gotta figure out if it’s your sinuses unclogging or your stench just growing more rancid.”

Try as you might to aim the pillow right at his head, he still manages to catch it inches from his face.

“Hey, I’m just saying! You’ve got the flu, you ain’t dying! Could be a little courteous to those who’ve gotta be around you and take a shower.”

“You’re literally in my room!”

“Which is literally in my house!”

Downstairs, your mother yells something unintelligible.

Likely, she’s telling you both to shut up and to quit behaving like children.

Making eye contact, you both can’t help the roll of laughter that comes out.

He steps a little closer, and that’s when you spot it.

Tupperware, clasped in his hand.

The contents are hard to decipher.

Luckily, your father spots you eyeing it.

“Your mom said ya wouldn’t be up for eating much but, if you’re hungry,” he pauses, at the foot of your bed. Tugs a little on the homemade-blanket you’ve had since you were in grade school. You wonder if he remembers making it with you. “One of the guys down at the station made you some stew.”

Your stomach growls, hungry and unfed.

The prospect of a hot, boiling bowl of brothy stew suddenly peaks your interest.

In fact, you can’t think of anything better.

“It’s a family recipe, he said it would cure ya right up.”

He’s popping the lid open, presenting the delicacy before your eyes. 

Immediately, you spot chicken.

Some corn cob, a couple lumps of potato, flakes of chilli.

You wish you could smell it, ingest it through your nasal canal and get a taste of it before you even put it in your mouth.

Your father continues, practically talking to himself.

“What’d he say it was called again, ga-sue-lay day ah-vay?”

“Cazuela de ave.”

A change into warmer, drier clothes.

Your hair still sits wet upon your head, but it no longer drips puddles onto his floor.

Thirty minutes it took him to drive from where he’d spotted you, walking soaked upon the sidewalk.

It would’ve only taken him seventeen minutes if he’d dropped you at your apartment.

And that fact is partly what warms your insides.

You watch him, tie discarded and the top buttons of his shirt undone, strutting around his kitchen.

Objectively, you think, he’s gorgeous.

Yet the word somehow doesn’t seem like it’s enough to summarise him, when he’s making his way round to you, two ceramic bowls in his hands and a look of pride in his eyes.

He put his own bowl down first. Sloppy, uncaring, spilling a little of it’s contents over it’s edge.

And then yours. More careful, slowly, both hands guiding it down.

The scent alone is enough to have you salivating. 

Warmth and care, all encased in a bowl of brothy goodness.

“It smells delicious,” you inhale deeply, for dramatic effect.

And to get more of that meaty, comfort-food goodness.

Javi sits on the opposite side of the dining table, and you try hard to stop your mind from wandering off to visions of you both sat like this, out in public, in a restaurant.

A real date.

Only, this isn’t even a fake date.

You guys don’t do that.

“It’s- It was my mom’s recipe.”

Frozen in place, you wonder if the shock spills over your face.

He’s never mentioned his mother.

Or much about his family, really.

There’s the occasional comment about projects he takes on at his dad’s ranch, and tid-bits of information you hear across a dinner table that's set by your mother and seated by your father.

But you’re no fool blind enough to not realise the obvious.

A worn-out polaroid in his wallet, his mother smiles brightly in permanent ink each time he opens it. It contrasts her impermanence in the real world, dead and gone long before you became so much as a ripple in the lake of Javier’s existence.

Across the table, he’s relaxed. At ease.

Open.

His eyes, his mind, his heart.

And so you try venturing inwards, test his waters with a dip of your toe.

“Was she a good cook?”

Lukewarm, they appear, when he favours you with a tiny smile, his eyes staring somewhere off in the distance.

“No,” and he laughs at his own admission.

Not just a scoffed out chuckle, or a gesture meant to feign joy.

A full, hearty laugh, that shakes his shoulders and splits his cheeks.

It’s disturbingly beautiful.

You wonder if there’s a life where it could be like this, always.

Javier laughing at his own jokes, you smiling at his visceral joy, plates of homemade food filling the space between you.

“No, she, uh,” he restarts, relaxing a little bit. He wipes under one of his eyes with the back of his palm, a rogue tear breaching his waterline. “She was awful. She burnt every slice of toast she made, and even served an unbaked cake at one of my birthday parties. This dish is actually one of the few she knew how to nail.”

You can picture it, a young Javi, party hat on his head and a cheesy grin topped by rosy cheeks, eating away at gooey batter mix sprinkled in icing. 

It’s hard to imagine him complaining, or getting angry at her.

In spite of his reputation, and the career he’s undertaken, Javier Peña is a gentle soul, who nurtures and protects anyone he can.

A modern-day hero, a knight who’s exchanged his shinny armour for form fitting jeans and unbuttened shirts.

“Tell me more about her,” the words are out before you can reel them back in.

Because you like this feeling, and you like this Javi, reminiscing on his late-mother.

“She not only was awful at cooking, but she had the worst coordination too.” It’s like he’s been waiting to tell you this, with how easy he slips into doing so. “She was forever falling and tripping over herself. And her driving, god! Pops used to dig out his rosary each time she’d be out on the field, driving the tractor.”

There’s something intimate about him recalling details so many would see as flaws, whilst he sports the most earnest, heart-wrenching smile.

Like nothing about her was wrong, all of her perfect and angelic.

“She was brave, too. I’d like to think I’m just like her in that respect. She didn’t let anything stop her from doing things she set her heart on, and she never let her inabilities hinder her,” he’s getting a little emotional now, you can hear it in his voice, see it in the lump he swallows back. You stretch a hand across the table and watch as he leans on you for support, fingers interlocking with your own. “There was this one time when I was a kid, I was swimming in a river and got stuck in a current. She dived right in to save me... She didn’t even know how to swim!”

You don’t know what to say.

You opt for saying nothing, silence speaking more than a thousand words.

Give his hand a reassuring squeeze, feel him squeeze back harder.

Your stomach rumbles, but it doesn’t ruin the moment in the way you feared it would.

“Listen to me being a sap and starving my poor lady to death,” still, he tugs your hand closer and plants a kiss on your knuckles. You’re still trying to process the possessive adjective he’d used to address you. My. His. “Eat up.”

Both of you settle back in your seats.

You pick up your spoon, scoop up a piece of chicken out the steaming bowl and-

“Asi no, corazón (not like that, sweetheart),” he spews out, panicking to pry the cutlery out your hand. He ignores the questioning looks you give him. “You drink the soup first, eat the filling after. Like this.”

Leaning over the table, he scoops your bowl up in his careful hands and guides it up to your lips.

When your lips part and rest against the bowl’s edge, he tilts it and you feel it’s warmth invade your mouth.

And then your chest, branching out over your heart, your lungs, your stomach.

Horned-up bias you so often show towards Javier aside, it’s one of the best things you’ve ever tasted.

Like a hug on a gloomy, wet day, all wrapped up inside a ceramic bowl.

You hum, hands taking over his own to allow him back into his own seat, focusing his attention on drinking his own soup.

“Javi, this is...” You trail off, eyeing the small ring of liquid pooling at the bottom of the bowl. One more mouthful and you’ll get your taste of the stew’s fillings. “Amazing. Your mum would be proud.”

Instead of modesty, instead of 'thank yous', instead of bashfulness, Javier smiles, takes another sip from his bowl.

“She would have liked you.”

You stare across at him and find no jest in his eyes.

They’re as open as before.

“Really?”

“Mhmm. She always liked pretty girls smart enough to put me in my place.”

“Kiddo?”

You’re ripped out your own head by your father’s voice and his hand, waved repeatedly in front of your face.

“Hmm?” 

“You okay there? I was talkin’ to you but you seemed lost in thought.” There’s a little excitement in you father’s voice as he presses his cold hand to your sweated forehead, the prospect of you still being ill, still needing taking care of, filling him with the relief of keeping you in your parents' home a little longer.

“I’m- Yeah, just tired, s’all.”

“Ok, let me know when you’ve finished your food,” he presses a kiss atop the crown of your head, and you hold back the pointless comment of not risking getting himself or your mother sick. “Need to get the tupperware clean ‘fore I give it back to Javi.”

Your stomach twists and longs for the meal before you, while your heart shatters into pieces you doubt will ever be repaired.

#javier peña smut #pedro pascal smut #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña oneshot

[tomssexdoll]

Tom 2010 x fem!reader, they were fighting about something and then rough fucking

yesss! ofc ofc

Betrayed

PAIRINGS: Tom 2010 x Female reader CONTENT: ANGST (quite long sorry i love writing angst) + SMUT + FLUFF SYPNOSIS: You and Tom have been having a pretty rocky point in your relationship for a while, when you try to fix things all your attempts are shut down by him, you're sick of how he treats you and leave, 2 days later you're back with him and get freakyyytehehehr A/N: IM SO EXCITED TO WRITE THIS WARNINGS: tom!dom, reader!sub, p in v (missionary and cowgirl), degrading, arguing, nipple play

I've been trying to fix Tom and I's relationship for weeks, getting him presents, cooking him dinner, planning dates, trying to initiate sex. Yet all my attempts were pushed away, I was convinced he was cheating on me because he NEVER missed an opportunity to fuck me. He's just been acting so weird, I don't know how it got to this point.

We've been dating for 3 years, we've always had a healthy and happy relationship but these past few weeks changed drastically.

One day he came home super late again, this was the 5th night he came back at 2 in the morning, I was pissed when I heard the door open. I was on the couch, waiting all night for him to get home, not only was I furious but I was also worried. He came in, a smug look on his stupid face. I decided I was done with his bullshit, I needed to confront him.

"Where the fuck have you been?" I called out to him, not turning my head. He grunted and took his shoes off, "work..just..let me sleep" he groaned, "well 'work' doesn't keep you out this fucking late!" I yelled, he turned his head to me and glared deeply "shut up! just shut up!" he raised his voice. I stood there shocked, he had never raised his voice at me ever. He didn't even apologise, he just walked off to the bedroom.

I ran after him and grabbed onto his arm, "you don't get to just walk off! I'm trying to talk to you about this!" he roughly pushed me away "there's nothing to discuss" he said coldly, "tom! stop!" I choked out a sob as he spun around, facing me "you wanna know why I'm never home? Huh? Cause i'm fucking sick of you! Sick of all of this!" he screamed and slammed the bedroom door.

My heart skipped a beat as he said that, tears welling up in my eyes, I ran to the couch and started sobbing. I couldn't believe what just escaped his lips, such mean and kniving words.

A few hours later I felt Toms arms wrap around me, I had cried myself to sleep. I lifted my head and looked up at him, "im sorry for what I said baby..please..forgive me" he pouted, I was going to give in when I saw the large tent forming in his pants. I scoffed and pulled him off me, standing up.

"You know what? I'm done" I said, not even raising my voice, I was so calm that it was terrifying. He looked at me confused, "what? didn't I just give you what you wanted?" I couldn't even believe the words coming out of his mouth, such stupid words. "Fuck you Tom, I'm leaving" I grabbed my phone and purse, walking out the front door and slamming it behind me before I could hear what he had to say.

I called Bill, Toms twin brother and decided to stay at his house for a while.

Toms pov: As she left I yelled profanities loudly in german, hitting the couch violently. "Scheiße!" I started to cry, realising what I had done, the ways I'd been mistreating her all because of work.

I needed to get her back, in any way that I could.

Y/Ns pov:

After days of Tom calling me and texting me non stop I decided to go home and address the situation, I wanted Tom to feel bad for what he did and realise what he lost but not to the point where he went crazy, I still wanted my Tom back.

As I arrived back home I opened the front door, I saw Tom on the couch sobbing, my heart broke a little but I told myself I needed to act tough. He turned around and saw me, his eyes widening.

He got up and ran towards me, engulfing me in a hug. Part of me told me to push him away but the other half told me to let him do it. He needed it as much as I did.

And that's what I did, I let him wrap his strong arms around me and kiss me on the head repeatedly. "Baby...schatz..I'm so sorry for how I behaved, I don't know what got to me I was just stressed with work and I didn't mean anything I said..I don't want to lose you, you're the love of my life" he sobbed, nuzzling his head into my shoulder.

I sighed "it's ok Tommy.." I pulled away from his hug and set my things down on the counter, only to be met with a dozen roses, chocolates, all my favourite snacks and a really cute teddy bear.

I chuckled at all the things he got for me, he walked behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. "I'm so sorry baby.." I turned around and looked up at him, kissing him passionately, he returned the kiss a bit more roughly, biting my lip.

As we pulled away I looked into his eyes, lust flashing over them. I leaned in and whispered in his ear "I need you..." he nodded and picked me up, rushing to the couch and plopping me on there. I layed back on the couch as he climbed on top of me, kissing down my neck to my breasts. He took of my pyjama top to reveal my hard nipples, he groaned and latched onto my boob, sucking and biting it softly. I moaned and rubbed my knee against his clothed erection. He moaned softly and continued let go of my boobs.

"Fuck..need you so bad.." he groaned, reaching down for my shorts and pulling them off, along with my panties. He leaned down and kissing my pussy softly "you're so wet shatz.." he smirked and came back up, pushing his boxers down to reveal his hard cock. It slapped against his abdomen, standing perfectly and throbbing.

I bit my lip, the burning in my heat becoming more apparent. "Please.." I looked up at him, begging for him to put me out of my misery and fuck me as hard as he could. He alligned himself with my entrance and pushed in slowly, once he bottomed himself out he started at a fast pace.

Thrusting in and out of me hard and fast, slamming his hips into mine. I moaned loudly as I felt his tip hit that gummy spot in me, grabbing onto anything I could. "fuck..so good" he moaned lowly, grabbing onto my hips tightly and leaning down, kissing my neck softly.

He continued to drill himself into me, beginning a punishing rhythm that left no doubt who was in control right now. "That's it baby..take my cock like the good little slut you are" he grinned, pounding into me without mercy.

Each thrust caused my whole body to shudder with pleasure, a knot forming in my stomach, the way he looked at me while his cock was sliding in and out of me was mesmerizing. His tip kissing my cervix. I rolled my eyes back, wrapping my legs around his waist to bring him in more.

"Fuck! I'm gonna cum!" I screamed out in pleasure as my orgasm crashed down, cumming all over his cock. He chuckled and continued at his pace, eventually cumming in me with a loud moan.

As he kissed my neck again I felt the cold metal of his piercing grazing against me, making me shudder again. "You like it when I'm rough, don't you shatz?" he gripped my hair tightly, yanking my head back to expose my neck further, sucking and biting on it harshly, leaving dark purple marks peppered everywhere.

I whimpered as he found my sweet spot on my neck, continuiously sucking and kissing it. "You like that, hmm?" he smirked, I nodded "mhm! so good!"

"Cmon baby, ride me" he sat back on the couch and I got up, crawling into his lap. I hovered over his cock as he positioned himself with my entrance, slamming his cock back in, "fuck!" I yelped.

This new angle made it feel like his cock grew by 2 inches, hitting my g spot violetly. As I started to ride him he threw his head back, groaning lowly. "mm! Fuck!" I cried out, moving my hips and bouncing up and down.

As I continued to ride him my legs got tired and he noticed this, he stopped me mid bounce "let me do the work baby.." he smiled and kissed my cheek, pulling me forward onto his chest. He rammed his cock into me, continuing his brutal pace from before.

I moaned loudly and held onto him tightly.

He grabbed my ass roughly and slapped it, causing me to jolt a bit. He chuckled "sorry prinzessin, you're just so sexy i can't help myself" kissing the top of my head.

"M'gonna cum baby, cum w'me ok?" he moaned, grabbing onto my ass tighter and pounding his cock into me, I nodded slowly, his cock putting me in a dumbed out state.

We both moaned loudly as we came, he shot his thick cum into my hole, coating my walls and I came all over his cock, drenching it in juices.

He fell back a little and panted, we both tried to regain our breath. "Holy fuck..I don't think we've ever fucked that hard ever.." I blurted out, my heart beating at lightning speed. "Mhm.." he replied.

After a few minutes of chilling out, Tom grabbed a blanket that fell on the floor earlier, covering us in it. "Rest liebe, I love you so much and I'll do everything to make it up to you.." he kissed the top of my head and I smiled, his cock still deep in me. 'We'll just stay like this for a while ok?" he lifted my chin, I nodded and kissed him softly.

E/N: this was so long you guys better have read it all 😔😔

#tokiohotel #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz angst #angst #fluff #fem reader #x reader #angst with a happy ending

[lunar-wandering]

Logically i know shadowpeach need time, i know the smile and popsickle are just olive branches and they still have a lot of issues. And i want the show to slowburn their friendship. But emotionally, now KISS

that's what fanfiction is for babyyyyyyy i LOVE reading about healthy communication and relationships slowly getting over hurdles and getting together and yknow taking things slow, love a good simmer, but pERSONALLY???? PERSONALLY????

i love just skipping to the fun part.

i love to just. JUMP. LEAP, you might even say. call me a frog cause im hopping over the slow-burn log and landing right on "how do they act afterwards??"

cause, well, MOST slowburns... kinda end once the burn does??? like, they get together, they've worked through all the hurdles...

but they don't talk about what happens after?? bULLSHIT.

THATS what i do baby. sure, there's still going to be some issues and stuff, things that they still gotta work through even after the major things are outta the way, but im all about jumping right into where they are AFTER that. where they're at the point where they can do fun jokes with each other, and cuddle in blankets and kiss and just relax and have fun. i made that "i wanna see characters being happy" post for a REASON

#Monkie Kid #shadowpeach #Monkie Kid Spoilers #LMK Spoilers #LMK S4 Special Spoilers #technically this whole post isn't really about that but im tagging all of it just in case yknow

[papuhater]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 pt.v

𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘭𝘦

pt. i pt.ii pt.iii pt.iv pt.vi pt.vii

a/n: this is for my bsf karl and u all, he's so fucking supportive i love him. make sure to read the warnings, from now on riddler becomes a real yandere. THX FOR 100 FOLLOWERS ILYYY, chubby eddie is brainfood.

pairing: riddler x gn!reader; bruce wayne x gn!reader

warnings: yandere, manipulative riddler, obsession, inspired on the song; new magic wand by tyler, the creator, not healthy relationships on edward’s part, not so healthy relationship on bruce’s side. not really a love triangle but does it count?? reader was/is(if you are) christian because of the orphanage. kidnapping

summary: riddler is a murder AGAIN, bruce is targeted by the riddler ye, wrote this listening to El Rincon De Giorgio, my fav true crime tuber. if i miss any warning tell me pleaseeee <333, we explore a bit of reader's trauma

you were never fond of the darkness, it reminded you of times you would rather forget.

being in the darkness was being alone, you hated being alone, you always had someone to be with you. as a child you don't remember a lot about your parents

but that was a lie you told yourself.

the memories you buried behind walls never haunted you, therefore, there wasn't a reason to relieve the past. you tried to live on the present, but in your heart;

the soil was filled with purple hyacinths, cyclamens, lillies, pink carnations and white chrysanthemums.

in the orphanage, the church was the most beautiful place in that manor. flowers were always decorating the altar, most of the money went towards that.

flowers were special to you, they were always special to you, they were pretty and had their own language. that's why when you could, a store offered you happiness.

"y/n.."

a silent whisper pulled you from the paused television, the horror evident in your eyes. the image of the chief with rats, plastered onto the screen, he had been found dead. your eyes had been boring into the news scene, bruce had left for more than an hour, it was midnight, now.

and you had stayed there

sitting, thinking

"are...you feeling well?"

yes, but you were unsure.

"yes, just felt worried."

"you have been staring at that image since i left and this deranged murder is targetting me." his steps were heard closer "you aren't just worried."

"well, what can i say bruce?! this murder could kill you! o-or-"

"y/n" his hands bonded your shoulders "none of this will happen." his arms laced around your form. silent tears slipped from your eyes, wetting his shirt.

"i won't let anything happen to you" he whispered "i won't let any fucking thing affect you."

you never liked rats.

┊┊┊┊☆┊🌙┊☆┊┊┊┊

he did it.

aftr weeks of planning he was going to kill bruce wayne.

he left a note to the batman the night before, the moon grazed the dirty skies again, and he had a plan, but now it was time to act on you. he had to tell you anyway but; how would he? he now is checking his phone

eddie: hey y/n

y/n: eddie

eddie: where are you?

eddie: you aren't in the store

y/n: yeah

y/n: im sorry

y/n: havent u seen the news?

eddie: abt the killer and bruce?

eddie: we can spend a day together to calm you down

y/n: idk eddie

y/n: i want to be with bruce rn

the grip on his phone tightened

eddie: y/nnn

eddie: u promised to talk to me after he punched me square in the face

eddie: :(

the icon of you typing an answer, it was flashing on and off

y/n: im sorry

y/n: but i want to be with bruce rn

eddie: y/n

eddie: please i want to see how are you, ik u arent ok

the flashing typing symbol flashed again

y/n: ok,,,

y/n: ill see u later

a smile crawled into his face, he was right, you just needed a push. he doesn't really think of how he was right now walking towards the store and he saw you walking from the corner, he felt his heart skip a beat, you looked more panicked, your steps were rushed, as if you were to enter the wolf's mouth.

you had already entered years ago, you pure little empty headed human.

as he came closer to you, his gentleness intensified, and his practiced smile was on again. your view was panicked and staring at the floor; how sad that you were worrying for a dead man walking.

"hey y/n!"

your eyes darted towards him, a beautiful scale of e/c blessing him, the panicked air seemed to calm down.

"eddie, how are you?"

"great and how are you feeling?"

"well.." you sucked in a sharp breath, he took notice, edward placed his hand on your shoulder, he felt the jolt that was bitten back.

"how about we go discuss this on your old flat?"

"you still live there?"

"of course, let's go?"

his arm snaked around your shoulders and guided you to the flat, he knew you couldn't do anything to acuse him of anything wrong;

'sweet eddie wouldn't manipulate me! he's just a cinamon roll.'

that's what was possibly running in your mind, he was a wolf in sheep's clothing, and today, if he was lucky;

he'd rip the bloody skin of sheep off.

"uh, i'm sorry if it's messy, stress, you know?"

he makes sure to lock the door behind him when he's about to speak, you did first.

"edward i'm scared"

"of what?"

"i love bruce" he could hear lies "and he could die, a-a-and me too-o-o." when your voice began to falter, he knew tears were pooling to the brim into their eyes.

"oh y/n..." his other arm joined his other in your form, he cradled your body as many times as he has done before, you sobbing into his hands. he just couldn't bring himself to pity you

you had always been so perfect

so pure

he just-

he couldn't explain it, after all, an addiction could never be explained by the addict.

"i'm just scared, eddie."

you didn't have too.

you just stayed for minutes after your sobs died down like fire, his brain finally let his heart have the reins in this moment.

"what if you didn't have to be scared" he shook your body "y/n."

"what do you mean?" you sniffled

"you shouldn't be scared, of this murderer, i mean." your head tried to lift off his chest, but his hands kept you in place, this time you didn't try to bite back the jolt.

"edward you're scaring me."

"you shouldn't."

"wha-"

"i'm the riddler."

their body went stiff as a board, seconds of silence passed

"please say it's a joke."

"it's not."

you started trembling, your hands grabbed his hands and pulled on them, your body started thrashing in his arms, his grip tightened, he doesn't remember when you started to scream, why were you acting so weird? you were supposed to switch onto his side! he started mindlessly sparring with you, he was heavier than you, he was gonna win.

but one strong kick into his thigh made his mind short circuit, you took your chance and ran towards the door, your hand gripped the lock and tried to open it, the sound of metal sofltly scrapping wood, when you turned your head

lights out.

a/n: reminder to go check my writing special, "you!"

#the batman movie #the batman 2022 x reader #the batman 2022 #the batman #the batman x reader #batman x reader #the riddler x reader #paul dano riddler #riddler x reader #paul dano x reader #dcu #dcu x reader #x reader #batman 2022 #battinson #paul dano x you #danonation

[lovely-angst]

the first time they meet you

a/n: im trying things out with doing three quick fics with one prompt. lmk how you like it.

genre: fluff

pairing: bakugou x reader, hawks x reader, dabi x reader

summary: the first time he sees/meets you

word count: 1.6k

08.04.21

bakugou - coffee shop

it was a long, long day of patrol for bakugou.

he had so much on his plate that day from staying late the night before to finish some reports and then having to wake up early for his daily patrol—not to mention all of the inconveniences of catching and apprehending some wannabe villains.

thankfully, he was able to get off work by the time the had begun to set. golden hues decorating the evening sky as bakugou walked back towards his apartment.

his feet were sore and ached from being on his toes all day. all bakugou wanted to do was to relax in the comfort and silence of his home.

taking a seat on a short concrete block wall, bakugou pulls the mask up over his eyes to push his bangs back, allowing the subtle breeze to cool him down as he took a small breather from his exhaustion.

he didn't have the energy to do anything.

"dynamight?" a small voice calls out before bakugou turns his head in their direction. you stood a few feet away from him timidly, but a smile on your face as you gently approached the unapproachable male.

"sorry, i'm not doing any autographs or pictures right now," he mumbled out exhaustedly, but to his surprise, you shook your head. "no, i'm not here for that," you say before taking a step back to gesture towards the cafe behind you, "i was wondering if you would like to come in and i can quickly get you something to eat and drink?"

bakugou glanced over at the empty cafe before glancing back at you and back at the cafe.

"it was a shock to see you outside the cafe and you look really exhausted. it's the least i can do for you," you continue, "you don't have to worry about fans, i'm about to close the cafe right now, so no one should be coming,"

bakugou knew that he shouldn't, but he couldn't help himself when his feet ached with every step and the tiredness was beginning to consume his body.

"fine, just this once," he answered, pushing himself up and off the concrete before following you, who beamed with happiness.

as you walked in, you held the door open for the pro hero before you stepped back out to grab the menu board before flipping the sign from 'open' to 'close', letting the door shut behind you.

"would you like some coffee? or do you prefer tea?" you question as you walk behind the counter, preparing a few things for him. bakugou sat down at one of the empty tables, glancing around at the peaceful and aesthetic atmosphere.

"tea," he states, "i'm not a big coffee person," you hum in response, "i'll get you one of our refreshing tea drinks then. i think you'll like it."

it wasn't long before you came back out with a thirst-quenching drink and a nice hearty little sandwich with it.

"i added a sandwich for you filled with healthy and light ingredients so it'll give you the energy to finish your day. i hope the drink is to your liking as well," you explain, listing out the different ingredients, "i'll be here cleaning up while you finish. take your time."

bakugou was very thankful for the sandwich if he was honest—he was starving, having skipped his lunch earlier. taking a bite of the sandwich, he noted the different textures and flavors that mixed well together. ontop of that, the drink was great by itself and even better with the sandwich.

his eyes drifted off towards you, who bobbed your head gently to the quiet background music of the cafe, moving in every which way to finish closing up your shop.

after quickly finishing off his small meal, he brought the dishes back to you and you happily accepted them, declining to accept any payment, "it's on me! you enjoying the meal is more than enough!"

"also, why not try stopping by during one of your early shifts for some coffee? relax and refuel before your long day as a hero?," you suggest with those bright eyes of yours.

bakugou couldn't help the slight lift of the corner of his lips, "i might just have to."

-

hawks - after a mission

hawks had just gotten done with a rather stressful rescue due to the many kids on the site he had to protect. thankfully he had all of his feathers and was able to use them to protect the kids while his sidekicks were busy securing the villain.

"are you kids okay?" hawks questioned as he was able to usher them into a safe corner away from the action. "i'm okay mr.hawks!"

hawks let out a small smile before patting the young child on the head. "where is miss (name)?"

hawks opened his mouth just as a soothing yet worried voice cut through the sirens and the commotion. turning around, hawks laid his eyes on you and his heart skipped a beat.

stepping aside from the kids, you ran over towards the children before kneeling down on their level to give them all hugs, checking them over for any injuries, "oh, i'm so glad you are all safe! i was so worried! are you okay? are you hurt anywhere?"

one of the little girls shook their head before pointing up at hawks, "i'm okay! mr.hawks saved us!"

turning around, you quickly stood up before giving him a very polite bow, "thank you so much, hawks! i am forever grateful!"

"no need to be so formal! i'm just doing my job," he responds with a smile, only for panic to set in when he sees the blood streaming down from your head. "miss! your head is bleeding, we need to get you checked out!"

"oh, i think this is from when I blocked the kids earlier from falling debris. i feel fine," you respond, which makes hawks worry even more.

hawks quickly calls for his sidekicks to stay with the children while he goes to get you checked up on. thankfully, there was a medical team nearby and hawks waited with you as they patched you up.

"again, thank you so much for saving my kids back there. I don't know what i would do if they had gotten hurt. you're an amazing hero." you compliment, sitting on the back of an ambulance as the medic carefully wraps your head to stop the bleeding.

"i could say the same about you," hawks starts, "you didn't hesitate to risk your life for those kids—you're the real hero. "

a shy smile forms on your lips as you look away from the very handsome man in front of you, "well, i love my kids. i'd do anything for them."

hawks couldn't help but admire you.

"i'm (name) by the way," you say, holding a hand out towards the hero. hawks smiles at you, reaching over to give your hand a firm shake.

"hawks. nice to meet you, (name)."

dabi - flower shop

dabi usually hated the rain, but today, he was thankful for it.

he had just escaped from some pro heroes and hid in a small alleyway in a quiet part of town away from any heroes. the cool droplets of water felt refreshing on his burning skin after overusing his quirk. though, he wasn't sure the injuries he sustained would heal quickly with the rain.

hearing a small bell ring, dabi quickly pressed himself up against the wall as he listened for any movement.

"ah it's raining!" a voice called out before their alarmed footsteps ran about, causing the puddles to splash every which way. suddenly, a pail of flowers fell into his view before you quickly bent down to pick them back up.

sensing someone staring, you turned and your eyes were met with his bright blue ones, causing you to squeak and fall back, "y-you scared me!" you cried before picking yourself back up and frowning at your dirtied outfit.

"hey, are you okay?" you asked as you carefully walked toward him. "you're bleeding! let me go get a medical kit," you explained before running around the corner to your flower shop.

but dabi knew better.

you were going to call the heroes on him, you only used that as an excuse to get away. standing up with all of the power he could muster, dabi limped his way down the street as far as he could—away from you.

"hey! where are you going!" you cried as dabi heard more splashes behind him, your small pitter-patters against the puddles.

turning around, dabi's eyes widened as he watched you chase after him in the rain, your hair getting wet with the rain and sticking to your face as you caught up with the male.

"let's hide from the rain over here," you say as you gently help dabi away from the rain before settling him down on a bench. "don't you know who i am?" dabi asked frustratedly, but you just continued to clean and dress his wounds. "sorry, i don't, but i can care less about that right now," you respond to dabi's surprise.

dabi watched as you carefully cleaned him up, watching the raindrops slide down your soft skin.

"that should do it," you say, standing back with a smile. dabi follows your movements, "thanks doll, but i gotta run," he responds, throwing his hood over his head.

"oh, well, stay safe then," you respond as the two of you enter back into the rain. he gives you a playful smile before vanishing from your view.

walking back to your flower shop to finish bringing your flowers back, you thought that would be the last of him. but to your surprise a few days later, tied onto the handle of your shop was a blue rose with a note attached,

'thanks for the other day, doll.

- dabi'

#katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki scenario #katsuki bakugou scenario #bakugou katsuki scenarios #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou kagsuki scenarios #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou katuski x reader #katsuki bakugou scenarios #katsuki bakugo imagine #mha hawks #hawks x you #bnha hawks #hawks #hawks x reader #takami keigo x you #keigo takami x you #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia scenarios #bakugou katsuki x reader #dabi x reader #dabi imagines #dabi x you #todoroki touya x reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya x reader

[kittydcoxx]

Stay with Me.

KAEYA X READER.

Warnings: light angst/heartbreak but nothing bad (happy ending)

The tavern was as crowded as usual, and by that meaning almost completely baren for a rainy Wednesday afternoon. As you order a apple cider from Charles, the tavern door bell rings and you instinctively turn to check.

"Ah~ it is pouring out, I need a drink to combat the dissapointment of getting my fur cape wet."

Kaeya. Of course he wasnt the last person you'd expect to see open the tavern doors, he just wasnt much of a "afternoon delight" type drinker. Still, you stare as he tries to cooly swipe off the wet rain from his uniform as he walks towards the counter and takes a seat next to you.

"Well, well! Good afternoon y/n! What a suprise to see a beauty such as yourself here at this hour."

He raises an eyebrow and smirks as he turns to look straight ahead and run his fingers through his hair, not allowing time for you to respond before he has a drink in his hand.

"Afternoon Captain,"

You face him and smirk with the same intensity of flirty-ness as he just had.

"Of course you would be surprised to see me at this hour, you usually drink yourself to sleep before i order a evening drink."

You chuckle and look straight ahead and take a swig of your beverage, the confidence of your little witty come back replays as the cider burns your throat.

"Oh ho, well thats quite the attitude! I must ask, whats the purpose of this?"

"Hmm?"

"The occasion? I've never seen you drink three days in a row, I've been sober enough to pay attention to that."

The truth is, the last few days you've been at a bit of a crossroads. You know you and the Cavalry Captain share feelings, but you have a job offer in Natlan. This job is a dream to you, ever since you were a child. You could never dream of passing this opportunity, but you question if this possible romance could be the first significant one. You've been meaning to bring it up to him, but recently you just havent seen enough of him to bring up the subject. As a result, you turned to the more than occassional drink at the tavern to brighten your mood from the decision that faces you.

"Well then if you're interested, it actually... might concern you."

Your face is flushed red due to nerves, of course it doesnt directly concern him since nothing astronomical has occured in order to absolutely weigh your decision based on a man, but you didnt want to leave without warning.

"I see, well, we haven't..." His cheeks grow the slightest bit red as his eyes skip to look around then back at you.

"we haven't progressed to that yet, have we? I mean, you're not pregnant are you?"

"What?!" You're taken aback by the direct-ness of his statement, about the fact that he thought it could even have been a possibility. Was it confirming your suspicions of him returning feelings? "No, i- its not that! That is out of the question completely!" You yelp as you shake your hands as a frantic meaning of saying "Absolutely no way".

"Of course! of course.. i just figured i'd ask in case, but i guess drinking for a few days regularly isnt particularly healthy for a baby."

You roll your eyes and take another swig. Oh boy.

"It's actually more of an advice thing, i suppose."

"Ah~ well! lets discuss then, hm!" He happily takes a sip of his wine, his face surprisingly relieved.

"So? What do you need the great Master Kaeya's guidance on?" He smiles and giggles slightly.

"Actually, I'd like to take this outside."

"But its raining cats and-"

"Outside. please."

Your tone picks up more aggresively and he gets the memo. He takes one more sip of his beverage and you do the same with yours. You pay Charles and meet Kaeya right at the door.

"Get ready for the rain, sweetheart"

Your heart jumps as he grabs your wrist and swings open the door, pulling you with him down the street, stopping at a small archway behind a building, big enough to comfortably converse without being cramped or drenched.

"Now, where were we?"

"right.. well.." You look down and fidget with your thumbs, only to look back up at him and see him gazing into your eyes, examining your soul and what felt like your heart. Did he already know? It sure felt like it.

"I have a big decision to make, but i want to ask you before i come to a concrete decision."

He nods as a sign to continue talking, acknkowledging his position in helping you decide.

"I might have to move away. To natlan more specifically. I've recieved a dream~ job offer that i simply cant refuse, unless i was faced with new circumstances here in Mondstadt."

"Hm, And how do i play a role in this?" He asks as he folds his arms and leans back against the stone wall.

You explain to him his part, and he lets you talk until you are completely finished. you tell him your feelings, your worries, your doubts, and your hopes. Every single one that included him in the package. He looks at you sternly the whole time, but he looks hurt at the same time and you wonder why.

"Well, i honestly dont know what to say to this y/n. You know i cant leave Mondstadt if we were to persue eachother."

"I know."

"Then why bother telling me? Why not just leave, hm? Before damage could be done? before you told me all this, confirmed my hopes in our relationship but crushed it with the fact that you 'might' leave? You should have just spared me and left!"

He looks emotional and teary eyed, much more that you're used to seeing from a man who held such a cool composure 24/7. Have you hurt him that much? Does he hate you?

"I can always stay if you wan-"

"No. Its your dream job, and you shouldnt pass it off. I just cant promise that i'll wait for you."

He steps closer to you, inches from your face. His breath is warm and it contrasts with the cold rainy air. He slowly takes your hand and hold it in his, then lands a soft passionate kiss onto your lips. A few seconds of the kiss pass and he breaks for air and looks at you, making strong magnetic eye contact with you.

"Y/n, I can't wait for you."

"You dont have to. I can stay."

He runs his hands up your arms and grips firmly onto your shoulders and kisses you again, and when he pulls back he lets out a heavy sigh.

"There's no staying, just be safe. Please."

Your throat swells like a rock is stuck and your eyes burn hot along with your ears. You cant muster any words, you just stand there maintaining a sorrow eye contact for a few seconds.

As you both stare in silence, he slowly lets go of you, and as soon as his hands depart from yours, he turns and walks out and into the road. The further he walks and fades from your vision, the further you slide down the wall until your behind hits the wet floor as you curl up to your knees. Hard, Hot tears stream steadily down your cheeks as you hide your head in your knees, sobbing hard yet silently. Your heart aches and your stomach churns.

You want to run and look for him, grab him by the waist and embrace him in a hug from behind as you cry against his back, but he has already erased you from his plethora of memories as he sulks in his room with a drink. The night is weary and so are you. You walk home, replaying the scene in your mind over and over, and the instant you step into your home, you fall to your knees and sob once more.

You dont even close the door behind you. You cant do anything but cry, you had no idea you felt so strongly for Kaeya, but you had to put it all behind you.

He probably had.

What feels like an hour or two goes by and you barely made it to the couch, where you lay sprawled out, half on the couch and half not as you stare into empty space, thinking of nothing but everything at once. Why did his mood snap so quickly? Why did he cut you off? Was it self defense? What could he gain by pushing you away? You had no clue, but you didn't want to dwell on it and start crying again, so you just lay there trying to fall asleep.

Suddenly, a warm, slender hand grazes your back and rubs up and down softly.

"I'm sorry."

You jolt a little, but you dont get up immediately.

"How long have you been like this? Its almost night again y/n. Have you gotten up at all!? Your door was wide open, I was worried."

No response from you as you try to analyze the voice. It sounds like Kaeya, but you had remind yourself that he wanted nothing to do with you.

The man sighs and walks away. A hallucination for sure, you thought. The male comes back and lifts you by the shoulders. He sits on the couch and then lays your head onto his lap.

You look up and are met with blue eyes, one scarred and one as normal as you're used to seeing on him, though both glossy as if about to cry.

"Kaeya?"

"Mhm. Sit up Darling, you need to drink water."

You obey and sit close beside him, sipping the water he hands you with both hands on the glass like a child. He puts his arm around you and his hand on your head and gives you a soft yet quite long kiss on the head as you finish your water.

"Im sorry. We can work something out. I know that i shouldn't.. I can't push you away."

You dont fight his embrace as it gets firmer, and his body trembles slightly as if he is crying.

"Do you want me to stay?" you ask sheepishly.

"My dear, its up to you what you want. I'll follow you in whatever you decide. Im choosing to persue you, the rest is yours to seal."

"I want to stay." you state calmly.

"As you wish." He eyes your empty glass of water and gets up to pour you some more. When he comes back you sit against him again, and drink the glass empty, then put the glass on the coffee table and lay your head on his lap.  

"Sleepy?"

"Mhm.."

He chuckles and holds you as you fall asleep, giving you tender kisses all over your face. When you fall asleep, he carries you bridal style upstairs to your room and tucks you into your bed. For a moment he stands there and ponders leaving you to rest, but the guilt of the words he said yesterday and seeing your state today convinced him to stay at your side. He walks to the other side of the bed and crawls in beside you, wrapping his arms around your waist and gives you one more peck before falling asleep.

You wake up once in the middle of the night to use the restroom, and when you come back to your room you're awake enough to process the fact that Kaeya was indeed in your bed. You crawl up into where you were in the bed before but this time facing him. You run your fingers along his face, feeling every bone and inch of his smooth skin, his tan beauty enhanced by the glow of the moonlight that peeked in through the window across the room from the bed. Your run your fingers down his hair and admire how his hair falls down his body. You've only been this close to him once, but never had you touched him like this. Your face was red and your smile was definitely pronounced, and as you stroke his cheek his eyes slowly open to see your expression.

"Good morning y/n~" he smiles and wraps his arms around you softly.

"How did you sleep?"

"Actually, its midnight."

"Oh, i see. Well, lets fall back asleep shall we? Or are you wide awake?"

You don't respond immediately but instead wrap your arms around him and hide your face in the crook of his neck.

"Back to sleep.."

He chuckles and brings you closer to his body, rubbing your back and stroking your hair until you both are hazy and about to fall asleep.

"I love you..." you whisper, half aware of what you just said and half not.

He pauses for a second, then gently squeezes your body as if to be his response back.

"I love you too.." he whispers back, his words echo in your mind as you drift to sleep, your dreams filled with nothing but happiness and him. 

You would stay in Mondstadt, but occasionally take trips to Natlan for a few weeks, and would try to take Kaeya with you if he wasn't too busy. The two of you became inseperable, and quite the item for some time, the story of your romance left most who heard it in tears.

After every time you tell the story, he grips your hand and grabs your face softly making you look into his eye.

"I'm glad you stayed."

He says as he pulls you in for a tender kiss, which is usually embarrassing in public but you dont mind in this case, because it was of genuine emotion and not of his flirtatious teasing.

You really do love him.

NOTES!!!!!!!!!!!

This was my first fanfic LMAO

#genshin impact kaeya #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeya genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #tartagalia x reader #Spotify

[jeweled-blue-eyes]

i like to hc (or i think it’s canon. like it was heavily implied) that athy has a mental illness..? depression i think. ( pls let me have this ok! i know it’s so cliche but i also have mdd and her character just hits me esp her reincarnation as a person in our world and she... died 😭😭😭) also i like how functional she is? like yes she has dark thoughts a lot, but she has a good facade. she is strong (i mean she’s lived under poverty, no parents AND most likely worked at customer service) works hard, and smiles and keeps doing all of it, she doesn’t want to die bc of claude. do we know if she overdosed on purpose? was it an accident? we can’t know exactly. *LONG (AND I MEAN LONG) rant ahead i tried to make it make sense and this is just my own experience i’m sure other people will see it differently. you don’t have to read this, so please skip it if you don’t want to read this! and if you did and if you’d like, tell me what you think x*

what we do know is that she opened her eyes and she’s suddenly... a pitiful princess. and you know what? she’s not having any of this. she doesn’t want to have yet another shitty life. and yes she’s tired and she keeps wondering if what she’s doing is right. if she’s making the right decisions. when it gets REALLY hard she thinks “i thought i’d finally be happy”. she’s felt so lonely, and scared, finding a real friend like jennette, i think her fear of possible death if jennette were to be noticed by claude is surpassed by her wanting an actual connection with someone. to be loved. and who better than her sister? 🥺🥺 LISTEN IM A FIRM BELIEVER WMMAP SHOULDNT HAVE ROMANCE AS A MAIN THEME (especially in the novel where everything is more fucked up, here it’s more family centered) idk why they were shoving a lucas romance so fast when my girl athy is having a breakdown. for me, she just needed a friend. i think she had finally found a healthy connection to someone. jennette is her sister. and! she loves athy unconditionally. she’s never scared of her because she knows jennette would never want to hurt her. in fact, jennette would almost die for her like twice. (talking manhwa) i wish we could have focused more on the sibling bond in this story because it does athanasia so good. and i think, it’s a parallel with ana and claude’s relationship. athanasia and jennette, they choose to love each other and i think that’s so sweet. peak writing there spoon 💓🤧

also it’s like. a really good depiction of mental illness too (even if it was maybe? unintentional bc we only see the dark thoughts a few times, when claudes in a coma, especially but that works great because it often just. lingers and that’s why ppl don’t get treated until it’s serious and more dangerous.) she’s high functioning. i can see a lot of typical behavior? for some of us it impairs us, won’t let you even get out of bed or take care of yourself. losing interest in things you liked before is common etc but for others! work and study and it’s SO hard and there’s bad thoughts and all you can do is. eat something because food doesn’t really fail ever. smile! distract yourself by doing daily tasks, etc ☠️ i hope this isn’t too tmi i don’t wanna overshare. maybe someone will relate lmao. ANYWAYS the amnesia arc, this is my favorite lucas, sort of. like you know how i’ve said before that i have a love-hate relationship with this dude. this is kinda why, i wanna elaborate 😭. because im so angry at him right now

ok so yes lucas is not great! and his relationship with athanasia is... uhh! kinda unhealthy 🥴 like i feel like athanasia clings to him because he’s literally the only person who is there, but not under normal circumstances it’s not really an effort on his part because he’s super powerful and he’s not in actual danger. so he can’t really relate to the magnitude of these events like a normal person would. he thinks blowing things up is gonna solve their problems (that’s not problem solving lucas) when something traumatic happens lucas is put there so we associate security to him. you also said that he’s been a victim of abuse. so i can understand why things are happening like this (i’m not happy about it though they could have written something better😔) it’s sort of like clinging to people who show you the bare minimum of what is kindness because well. you’re scared of loneliness perhaps. or, you aren’t used to others being kind to you, and it feels nice. this can make some mentally ill people easy to manipulate, AND it can make others too clingy or controlling. i see it something like that. maybe in my case i like him bc of this? ☠️ i’m speaking from experience here

maybe athy has associated security with lucas. sense of security and the few instances where he’s kind, bc he’s bitch shaped, in the middle of all of the uncertainty. it’s not the best support someone could be giving and he’s definitely not a good person, but no one (jennette should but also we know they’re pushing for lucas/athanasia interactions so they just won’t let her be there with athy ugh 😩) else is there when athanasia is having these traumatic experiences (again probably doing this on purpose and it DOES sound manipulative doesn’t it? not lucas, the writing). i was actually expecting character development for lucas bc of the amnesia arc.

i finally saw him caught off guard for once, because athanasia is actively having “dark thoughts” (i’m calling them that but i really mean suicidal this is where i get the idea she did kill herself), and he didn’t want to show her the world tree branch because he’s scared she will die, that she will “leave him”. he cares for her but it’s a little more on the unhealthy side bc they’re both mentally ill. moving on. he also shows her the tree branch because hes scared she is feeling hopeless (very depressed). sure it hurts but if it means she stays alive, he will try to aid her if it makes her feel better. when he sees her like this, he relents and shows her it. the tree tells her of this method to cure her dad, and he gets angry because it will put her in danger and it’s uncertain that it will actually work. see, this is where i actually liked lucas. helping claude isn’t possible for him. in contrast to how he talks about aeternitas being weak, and being out of touch because well he’s THE wizard. this is one of the few things that he cannot do, so he is sort of in the same place as athy right now. a feeling of helplessness? he can’t do anything, as powerful as he is, to cure her father. and you know? it’s nice. i wish he had stayed like this.

if they hadn’t made him so powerful i would have actually preferred him more as a love interest. it’s really difficult to connect to him because he is almost invincible most of the time, except for in the amnesia arc. before and after this time period, he is more cocky and so sure of himself, it’s like he can’t bring himself to feel empathy for others. so when i saw him be sensitive and unsure i wanted him to keep going on this path of becoming a better person, a better friend for athy, and realizing that he’s not all powerful. just because someone is mentally ill doesn’t excuse being a jerk, and two mentally ill people being in a relationship doesn’t mean that the relationship has to be toxic! but there’s steps in order for it to work and so they don’t sink together... athy and him could have actually helped each other (i’m not saying fix each other here, that’s not how it works) if he could just open up and be vulnerable, ack if they didn’t try to paint him as the usual love interest all the time. same as her! i want her to talk about her trauma and her problems to someone so bad, lucas knows she reincarnated, but they don’t talk about it. unfortunately the narrative is pushing the typical shoujo josei approach which has toxic gender roles and its so boring 😔😔 the incredibly strong and possessive ml and a weaker fl who needs help. right now i dislike lucas a lot, aack like really... he’s gone back to being inconsiderate and a bitch. hate it here

the only other person i know of that helped athy was my boy kiel, but! this child did have a lot to risk, in contrast. by running after athy he’s going against not only his own family but against claude which means sort of... certain death for him. he’s ACTUALLY contributing to this relationship by sacrificing things, putting effort in order to help her. hell, falling in love with her was probably one of his first choices. something that is “him”. it’s struggling if you’re a normal human person. again, we could have kiel and jennette to balance out the lucas and claude interactions but they are REALLY pushing for a lucas thing here bc he’s the novel’s love interest so they will reduce kiel to a second thought when i really think, even if he isn’t an all powerful wizard, that he could offer better support to athanasia and relate more to her than, well, most characters would, and in a healthy way. he would be more sensitive and would comfort her, not saying that they could simply solve it by destroying things but actually telling her, that yes, she’s right, that’s a very difficult situation and she shouldn’t have to go through that. he would not be able to fully understand but he’d try to help her in any way possible. because he was always on her side. it’s honestly great. there’s probably symbolism in there but i’m too stupid to notice. something about changing your fate. there’s certainly parallels between athy and kiel because they’re both changing the future. making choices for THEM. choosing to follow happiness. 🧍something like that someone will probably say it better than i ever will. 👉👈

and last, but not least, i wanted to talk about claude. it’s a similar situation with claude and lucas. he’s the only father athanasia ever had (unfortunately) and any fatherly love athy ever received is from him even if this dude REALLY needs to stop projecting and being violent and distant there’s so many things wrong with claude and he’s so complex. i enjoy his character but he’s a horrible father. at least he’s trying now unlike a certain black cat with red eyes instead of green ones. athanasia actually confronts him... anyways. mental illnesses are often hereditary (i’m not opening MY can of worms though but it runs in the family) we see how VERY unhealthy family dynamics have traumatized the obelian royal family for generations (aka intergenerational trauma babeyyy 🗣😩☠️) and it finally culminates in ana being possessed by aety, in claude becoming a tyrant, in him executing athanasia, and jennette unintentionally making him worse. aeternitas takes over the throne and well. it’s kinda the end of the empire lol.

we can see how this environment affects athanasia, in the first timeline especially, it is a reflection of her life the second time around, and the third time again. sure, she didn’t exactly inherit claude’s alcoholism (i’d recommend she doesn’t risk it though. stay away from alcohol) or violent behavior, BUT she is definitely suffering from a mental illness (like most obelian royalty) and she has also adopted the tendency of drowning herself in work just like he does. and she’s a little desensitized to the violence. it’s a bit of a softer blow because she didn’t internalize it as much as if she had been a baby, being an adult in a child’s body. but it’s still there. and claude got the most of it, a lot more than anastacius did. being an illegitimate child, etc. the person who got away from all of this mess and broke the cycle of abuse is jennette. she was raised in the alpheus manor and we can’t say roger is the best father because he has a lot of flaws. he’s using jennette and pushing ijekiel to be the next head, and probably instilling the wrong ideas in both of them since they were children. he’s put them both in danger with their greed. however, that will always be better than living in the palace. jennette has been affected by the way she was raised but in a very different way than she ever would have had she lived in the palace. ana will not be the best father either, but he hasn’t been in claude’s position who was most subjected to trauma in that same place than anastacius ever was. so he’s not on his level of fucked up, fortunately jennette will be ok with him.

i think jennette and ijekiel should have stayed closer to athanasia and they have a lot more importance than many people give them credit for. it’s a breath of fresh air from everything heavy that happens around her. hell, not even lucas was free from abuse and he has a lot of issues stemming from abandonment etc. they’re sort of the healthiest bonds athanasia has and she NEEDS those! she really does. i think i’ve talked too much already, 😭 idk what it’s supposed to be. analysis? rant? being angry that there’s SO much potential for more themes because the word building is simply incredible? so i’ll leave it here. thanks for listening and if you’ve read until here! don’t wanna force you to answer or anything. and sorry for clogging ur inbox

Headcanon accepted! I like to hc LP Athy to have an Avoidant Personality Disorder & depression. This is probably contradicted by canon since Lithium said LP Athy crying was so out of the character that even Claude was suprised by her breakdown but since it's the only panels where she has dialogue I imagine her to be similar to Hilise Inoaden in her first life: cries easily but only at night when she's alone by herself, hypersensitive, feels unsafe in big crowds or when alone with strangers, clings to every gesture that can be interpreted as kindness, tendency to excuse the actions of the people she cares about (really how has she not lost hope for Claude in those 18 years of her life facing his rejection and the noblility's mockery?).

Talking about mental illnesses being heredity, baby Claude could have also ended up with an Avoidant Personality disorder if he hadn't freezed his heart, I think. But now I hc him with an Antisocial Personality Disorder, Like Lucas.

But I don't think wmmap is good representation of mental illness. You could argue that Lucas' and Claude's "psychopathic/sociopathic" tendancies are mainly caused by dark magic and not their childhood trauma. Like even though Claude seems to have ASPD, baby Claude never showed signs of a conduct disorder. I know this isn't a must but still. Athy's trauma only gets bought up when spoon needs to stirr drama between her and Claude. It doesn't really impair her much in her everyday life. There isn't a day where she has a hard time getting out of bed or a day where she tries pursuing her hobbies but nothing brings her joy anymore. She still manages to be productive. She had no problems to interact with strangers and blend in with the tea party girl's in high society, even though their mother's betrayed her later and some of them surely did the same in the first timeline (ignoring Athy in favour of Jennette), yet she doesn't really harbour any resentment against the noble's that harmed her in her first life.

#anon #answered asks

[mxchellesworld]

Hi! I have a request if that's alright 🥺 can you do a Mgg or a Spencer Reid imagine where he loves on your stretch marks on your thighs & ones on your calves 💓 or one with where you squirt for the first time when you guys have sex & then get insecure about it. Thank you if you're able to! 🥺

Worship- Spencer Reid x Reader

synopsis; in which spencer loves on his girlfriend and shows her just how perfect she is

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, fingering, squirting, overstimulation 

i decided a little drabble wasn’t enough and made this into a full fic

a/n: why did this hit me in my soul!! i’m writing this with a plus size reader in mind and combining both ideas, hope you enjoy my love :)

being with spencer reid was amazing in every way possible. from waking up to morning kisses, his goodnight texts when he was gone on cases, even his attempts at cooking, which usually ended up with a messy kitchen and loads of laughter. but the best part would be how beautiful he made you feel. 

you were normally confident in your looks, being old enough to realize that a little extra cushion and stretch marks weren’t a problem at all. you were healthy and absolutely happy. however some days you couldn’t help but let those waves of self doubt wash over you.

spencer had noticed early on. when you woke up his arms were wrapped around you like normal, your back pressed against his chest and his warm hands on your soft tummy. he noticed you were awake by the way you squirmed at the feelings of his hands on you. turning around you were met with his hazel eyes glowing in the light flowing through the window. 

you quickly pressed a kiss to his nose before getting up, your hands going to wrap around your torso that was barley covered by a little tank top. you walked into the bathroom and spencer was left in bed dumbfounded. usually you were all lovey in the morning. where were his extra cuddles? 

he stayed in bed for a little waiting for you to come back. he figured you’d do your morning business so he picked up a book to read knowing you’d be out by the time he finished. but when 20 minutes passed and he didn’t hear any water running or a flush from the bathroom he got up to go check on you. 

he thought maybe you were doing a face mask or painting your nails but what he didn’t expect was for you to be in the mirror examining yourself. to him you looked perfect.

your morning hair messy from a good sleep, tiny tank top putting your soft breasts on display and went down half way down the tummy he liked he rest his head on. the little boy shorts you had on accentuated your behind and don’t let him get started on your thighs, ever so thick and squishy which he loved to have in his hand as he drove or around his head in other situations. 

you were broken out of your self examination when he called out for you, “hey sweetheart, what are we looking at?” he said wrapping his arms around your frame. 

he could feel you squirming again being in his hold.

you sighed and let your hands run from your hips down to the tops of your thighs, “these stupid marks, they’re so ugly.”

spencer was shocked. how could anything about you be ugly. he went to sit on the toilet seat and pulled you to stand in front of him. he started to place little kisses all over the marks on your tummy and let his hands go under the sides of your panties rubbing on your hips. 

“spence what are you doing?” he looked up into your eyes, his auburn ones blown with lust. “trying to show you just how perfect you are.”

he continued his trip of leaving little kisses all over your belly. you pulled him away by tugging a little on his hair. leaning down you pressed a kiss to his forehead. “i appreciate the effort handsome, but im anything but perfect. just look at me.”

his hands moved up to your waist, “i am looking at you y/n/n. you are the most beautiful woman i’ve ever known, inside and out. no amount of marks would ever make me think any different.” 

your heart fluttered at his words. the sincerity of his tone topped with his large eyes looking up at you like if you hung the moon and stars. he started to stand up and pulled you with him back into your bedroom. 

“strip for me pretty girl,” he said as he walked you to the edge of the bed. 

you looked at him hesitantly and he went to caress your face, “please honey, just let me show you how a goddess of your nature should be worshiped. 

your hands went to the bottom of the tank, pulling it up with a swift motion. the vision was something spencer would never get tired of seeing. perfect nipples peaked under the morning chill of the room. his hands went to your hips to help pull your panties down your legs. 

once they were off he threw them somewhere in the room and motioned his head for you to lay back on your pillows. he swore his brain short circuited at the sight of you bare and spread out for him. he followed suit and took off his old tshirt and flannel pajama pants, getting settled in between your legs. 

you looked down and were met with one of your favorite sights. the familiar mop of brown curls in between your thighs with equally brown eyes looking up at you, gauging your reactions. 

“you were made for me angel, and i’ll spend the rest *kiss* of my life *kiss* proving it *kiss* to you *kiss*,” he said making his way from your right thigh over to your left. skipping the area where you needed him most. once he felt like you were ready for him, he let his hand slip through your folds, picking up some of your already dripping essence. 

“spence please,” you whined.

“your wish is my command angel,” with that his tongue went to your folds, liking broad stripes to taste all of you. you moaned at the feeling and let your hand fall to his hair. his middle and ring finger found their way to your slit, easily slipping in and reaching that spot inside of you. spencer had your body memorized and knew how you play you like his favorite game. 

you were swimming in pleasure, his pink lips wrapped around your clit as his long fingers curled and thrusted in your warm heat. while you moaned at his actions he moaned at the taste of you spilling all over his tongue. 

he switched his motions and inserted another finger, making you let out louder whimpers at his actions. he let go of your clit to look up at you. he thought you looked absolutely breath taking, sheen of sweet glistening on your forehead and your face contorted in the pleasure that he was giving you. not to mention your chest rising up and down from your erratic breathing. 

he would tell you were close from how you were starting to clench around his fingers. “cmon pretty girl, i know you’re close. let go for me.” his other hand went to rub circles on your clit as his eyes stayed on you, wanting to have a full view of you cumming embedded in his memory. 

his words set you off and the knot in your tummy broke. you came with a loud moan of his name along with a string of curses. you tried to shut your legs but his lanky figure stopped you from doing so.

“hey y/n/n can you give me one more?” you nodded as he leaned down to press a kiss on your sweaty forehead. “always so good for me angel.”

he was painfully hard from watching you writhe in pleasure and was sure he wouldn’t last long but he was set on making his point absolutely known that you deserved to be worshiped. 

swiping his length through your folds, you both gasped at the feeling. your thighs wrapped around his frame to pull him closer to you. he slipped in with ease and leaned down on his elbows so he was face to face with you. 

his thrusts started out painfully slow. letting you feel inch by heavenly inch of his thick cock. you loved when he was vocal, letting out groans and moans at the feeling of your walls squeezing him. his head fell to the crook of your neck and you could feel him bit down on your shoulder. 

your hands went to his back leaving little scratches at the feeling of him hitting the spot inside that made you see stars. the whole feeling was other worldly, being enveloped in his peppermint scent, the sounds of your mixed moans and skin slapping filled the room. 

his thrusts sped up and you felt the knot in your tummy return but this one was different. almost like a full sensation. “im so close spence, want you to cum in me baby,” you let out between little whimpers. 

“im right there sweetheart, make yourself cum for me.” your hand reached down to where you were both connected to rub on your clit, bringing you to your sweet release. however as he kept thrusting to reach his own your felt yourself let go even more. your essence gushing out down onto the sheets. 

your walls clenching during your release led him to his end, spilling inside of you. as he slowed down he looked at you, face towards the side looking away from him. 

“y/n whats wrong?” he asked rubbing your shoulder before pulling out slowly. 

“that was so embarrassing.” was confused at what you meant until he looked down to see the wet spot between your legs. 

“hey hey don’t worry,” he said wrapping you in his arms. “thats completely natural and just proves i did my job in worshiping you how i should.” 

you snorted at his confidence and pressed a kiss to his chest before pulling away. 

“why don’t you go start a bath while i change the sheets?’ he asked pushing some hair behind your ear. 

you nodded and made your way to the bathroom on shaky legs. this time when you looked in the mirror you saw nothing but faint love bites and a body worth being treated as such. 

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x plus size reader #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler x plus size!reader #mgg smut #mgg x reader #mgg #plus size!reader #chellewrites

[propshophannah]

umm i think ppl are over reacting,, az was not being toxic or possesive, he's been pining for elain for 3 years and he now knows she feels the same way for him,, and to the ppl that said that him being turned on was creepy,, wait till we see elains pov bc im pretty sure she was thinking the same. pls it's okay to not like scenes and characters and ships but cmon,, some eluciens are butchering him

Hi Nonnie! I heard that the fandom was getting crazy so I’ve been avoiding looking at posts and stuff. If Az came off creepy it wasn’t because he was turned on. LMFAO. Elain was turned on, too. SHE ALSO INITIATED THE ENTIRE SCENE! We don’t even need her POV to tell us what she wanted either—Maas straight up tells us this in that scene. LOL to everyone who skipped that part and those lines. I mean… it wasn’t even subtext. It was literally written on the page. (I’m writing an analysis of that scene, stay tuned!)

If he came off creepy, it was because he articulated a sense in entitlement—which given the situation wasn’t entirely out of line! Sorry, it just wasn’t. 

And here’s why: We’ve all had moments where we are so fucking mad—and everything around us seemed to be going in everyone else’s favor BUT ours—so we got angry. And vengeful. And we got a little lost in those feelings, some of us drowned in them, and we did things and said things and we came off like a fucking asshole. FACTS.

If some people think that’s never happened to them, then they’re either lying to themselves or not paying attention to themselves. It’s as simple as that, Nonnie. 

We all do dumb, potentially toxic things when we’re mad or upset. That’s the law of the land and not one single person in the fandom, or the world, is above that. Not. One. 

And LETS. BE. REAL. Elain is NOT above reproach for the role she *actively* plays in this cluster fuck. She is just as guilty of stringing Lucien and Az along in that she hasn’t made a decision on whether to accept or reject the mating bond. Or in just saying “Look, Lucy, babe, I don’t like this. It’s stressing me out. Please leave me alone for the next 2.5 years or until I say ‘when’ before you come around again. Thanks!” She doesn’t even need to say it to Lucien. THAT’S THE KICKER. She could tell Feyre. Tell one of the Shadows to tell Feyre or Rhys or Mor and Nesta OR ANYONE with the power to say “Hey, we can’t invite Lucy to Solstice because Elain doesn’t want it.” This is a situation where getting other people to play the bad guy for you, is 100% socially acceptable. 

Hell, LUCIEN could be the one to initiate this. To pick up on what Elain IS NOT THROWING OUT and say, “Hey, Rhys, babe. Thanks for the Solstice invite, but I don’t think Elain appreciates my presence, and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. How about I send you her gift from me, then I, like, check in every now and then and you can find a way to let her know I’m in town and if you invite me to dinner, I’ll take that as a sign that she’s okay with me being there for dinner and nothing more. No expectations.” It’s not hard. 

(We could argue that Lucien continuing to come around IS JUST AS WEIRD/CREEPY. READ THE ROOM DUDE.)

Now I WILL say that there is an argument to be made that Elain *may* not grasp the gravity of a mating bond because she was born in a different culture. That’s totally fair. BUT she’s had plenty of time to learn what that means having spent so much time around Feyre and Rhys and the others. 

So the idea that Azriel is the only one who deserves to be vilified is nonsensical. 

ALSO, and this is something I will be including in the analysis I’m working on and will hopefully finish tomorrow (I’m going to break that Az POV down so that everyone and their third cousin, twice removed, can understand), is that AZRIEL’S WHOLE SHTICK IS WAITING.  He looooves to wait. Fucking LOVES it. It’s his whole job y’all. It’s weird, and related to his daddy issues when you apply it to females, but it’s his life. He LITERALLY tells us this in ACOSF. Remember at the end when Cassian is complaining about how he HATES spying because he has no patience? 

Az is like “It seems you’ve forgotten how much of spying is waiting for the right moment. People don’t engage in their evil deeds when it’s convenient to you.” 

Cassian explains why he stopped spying because it “...bored him to death. I don’t know how you put up with this all the time.” 

Az says, “It suits me.”

 BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM.

MF BOOOOOM.

Az likes to play the long game. Not saying it’s healthy, but that suits him. He’s good at waiting. He HAD TO BE. HE WAS LOCKED AWAY FOR YEARS AND HAD TO WAIT FOR THE CHANCE TO SEE HIS MOTHER. And the sun. And his hateful brothers. He doesn’t know any better/how else to be. And there is a lot of trauma and conflicting feelings tangled in this. 

It’s only creepy when you fail to grasp the nuance. But if you stand too close to a painting, you can’t see the whole thing. Back up, people. Back up.

Az has spent his whole life waiting. It’s how he learned to be. And now that his brothers are all happily mated he’s looking back on all his waiting—on his entire life—and he’s having a crisis. Or a crisis is looming. What has his waiting gotten him? Why has his patience not been rewarded? Why not him?

You combine that thinking with anger and you’ve got a recipe for momentary entitlement. For rage so thick and consuming that you want to punch a wall and work yourself to death because at least when you’re working you can compartmentalize and not deal with the reality that YOUR ENTIRE LIFE MODEL hasn’t worked for you. That you got left behind somewhere and it was your fault.

Az is headed for a mid-life crisis or an emotional breakdown—or some big horrific moment where he realizes he can’t keep doing what he’s been doing, that his entire world is built on a foundation that’s crumbling. And if you’ve never ever had that happen to you, then I’m jealous. And I’m happy for you. Because it’s terrifying. Bloody awful fucking terrifying.

#ACOSF spoilers #acosf spoiler #mini Az Analysis #az POV chapter analysis #Azriel POV analysis #elain x Az #Elain X lucien #Elriel #they're all to blame to some extent #lucien is not innocent here #neither is elain #analysis post

[dog-teeth]

Did you experience any emotional changes when you started T? How was it

yeah, a whole bunch! i guess ill start with anger. pre-T, my anger often skipped over the part where i was angry and went straight into feeling frustrated, helpless, sad, or worthless. i think part of this is biological and part of it is because of how women are conditioned to not feel or express anger. when i got really angry pre-T, i would just cry. i remember feeling white-hot rage, so so fucking angry, and i would just be weeping, and whoever i was angry at would be like aww are you okay / not take me seriously bc i was crying which just made me More Angry which just made me cry more!!!! it was one of my least favorite feelings ever.

now on T i get angry more quickly, i’m more prone to being snappy with people and reacting with anger before realizing i don’t want to react that way or don’t feel that way at all. anger is a response i go to more quickly and more often now. however, it also goes away faster, and leaves less residue behind. i used to never be able to fully let go of my anger, i would seethe and fester because it just wouldnt go away bc i had no outlet to let it out. when i did have anger breakdowns even then it was just bc i had reached a snapping point and it didn’t do much in terms of catharsis. i wanted to burn alive. i wanted to burn the whole world, but i couldn’t, i felt helpless and small, and the feeling of frustration never went away. but now i can actually let go of my anger, it comes and goes faster and doesnt leave behind that terrible deep frustration. i get angry, i want to run really fast or hit or break something, i let it out in a healthy way (usually sprinting) or an unhealthy way (snapping at someone) and then it goes away.

and then, basically the opposite is true with sadness. i used to just cry and release my sadness and then feel better (though underlying deep depression-type sadness was still there and still is). but its harder for me to cry now. sadness lives deep in my heart in a way that is slightly more suffocating now when it gets strong. its not quite as prevalent as the anger thing bc i can still have catharsis for my sadness without crying, crying just helps a lot. also, and this was true pre-T as well, i cry much much i more over media than i do over my real life.

i think it has to do with my hyperempathy because of adhd/autism. not sure why, but media i feel strongly about can make me cry INSTANTLY whereas i rarely cry over the very real grief and sadness i experience in my own life. in general tho i am less sad.

next on the list is sex and romance! (slight nsfw warning) idk how deep i wanna go into it but i will say that my sex drive increased and the things i wanted out of my sexual and romantic life changed a lot, in terms of things like what gender i was attracted to, what dynamic i wanted to have during sex (top/bottom, dom/sub, what activities i wanted to do, etc). who i wanted to be in a relationship and in bed both changed. the way i experience desire and attraction is different, both romantically and sexually.

and now i’m much more confident! now that i’m not nearly as dysphoric, i have no problem meeting new people bc im content with how they will perceive me physically. i used to hate talking because i hated my voice, i didn’t even really see it completely as dysphoria, like yeah i wished it was lower but i thought i just hated my voice for no real reason. but all thats gone now! i love talking to people, i love meeting people, i love being around people (until my introvert instincts kick in then i love being alone at home but its not bc of gender lol)

i didnt even realize how dysphoric i was until i stopped being dysphoric and i realized how prevalent and crushing it was in my life. i’m also more confident because i can be more myself. since im physically more androgynous, i can do things that are seen as feminine without feeling dysphoric or getting instantly misgendered. to be androgynous i used to have to put all my effort toward being masculine to balance out my body’s perceived femininity. i used to only be able to wear out ‘masculine’ clothes and even then i would still get misgendered and be dysphoric.

now i’m growing my hair out, i can wear dresses and skirts and eyeshadow and have much more fun with my gender presentation. im much more confident and happy with myself! i had no idea how much it would improve my life.

its been really strange experiencing basic fundamental emotions like anger and desire and social connection in a different way! but i’m 100% happy with all of it!!

#ez answers #drawreplies #hrt #t #testosterone #nonbinary #transgender #genderfluid #genderqueer #autobio comics #comics #about the ezra #Anonymous

[falcqns]

partner in crime ll

pairing: August Walker x OFC (Maeve)

summary: August and Maeve get acquainted.

warnings: fluff! dad!august.

a/n: this will eventually be a august x reader story, but that won't happen for a few more chapters, sorry! hope you enjoy! I also would like to say I hated writing him building her crib bc it brought back memories of me trying to assemble Lavenders while in labor bc im a dumb ass and left it to her due date LMAO.

August was in way over his head.

he'd been trying for the better part of an hour to get Maeve down for a nap so he could put her crib together. he had tried a bottle, and a pacifier, but nothing was working. he refused to call Anais, he had just gotten the little girl, and he didn't want to lose her.

he may not be the best thing for her, but he was all she had left, and he was determined to do better than his mother at this single parent thing.

it startled him slightly just how similar his life and Maeve's were. both were either raised or being raised by a single parent, and both had a dead parent. for him it was his father, for her it was her mother.

that thought worried him. who would she go to when she got her first period? when she had boy trouble? when she needed someone who wasn't him for something he couldn't help with? is he limiting her possibilities by just being raised by him?

he didn't have any brothers or sisters. his parents were older when they had him; late 40's, and his fathers parents were dead as well, and his mom stopped talking to her family when she was 18. he never knew why, but based on the way she treated him, he could only guess it was abuse.

he didn't want that for Maeve. he wanted her to grow up happy and healthy, the way he was before his father was killed.

he glanced back down at the little girl who wouldn't settle, and had absolutely no idea what to do. he laid her on his bed, and that's when he noticed her shorts were sagging slightly, and he finally clued in to the issue.

he walked over to the bag that Anais had brought, and headed back to the bedroom. he dropped it as he walked in when he saw Maeve about to fall off the bed face first. he caught her in time, and was about to scold her, when he realized he was at fault.

that's right. he thought. can't leave babies alone.

he sighed, and laid her back on the bed, before opening up her bag.

he was shocked at what he found. she only had one other outfit, and those were pyjamas. she had 3 diapers, a small package of wipes, and one stuffed animal.

August still didn't fully know what she needed, but he knew she needed more than just one stuffed animal.

he took her shorts off, and his mind blanked. he had absolutely no idea how to change a diaper.

he grabbed his phone and made a quick google search of 'how to change a diaper'

he clicked on the first link he found, and followed the instructions carefully.

Unfasten the diaper tabs.

August grasped the diaper tabes, and pulled them away from the diaper. the diaper came undone, and he looked back at his phone.

Slide the diaper away.

He slid the diaper away, wrapped it up as best as he could, and placed it onto the ground next to him, so Maeve couldn't reach it. something inside of him told him that the dirty diaper was something she shouldn't touch.

he glanced up at her, and saw she was watching him intently, as she sucked on her pacifier. she wasn't crying, so he must be doing it right.

Wipe the baby clean.

he used one of the very few wipes to clean her up, before tossing that on top of the dirty diaper next to him.

Slide a clean diaper under your baby's bottom.

he grabbed one of the three diapers from the bag, making a mental note to order more diapers once she was asleep. he may not know much, but he knew that two diapers wouldn't last the rest of the afternoon and the night.

Close the new diaper.

he pulled the tabs away from where they were, and pulled them around to the front, mimicking the way he found the diaper in the first place.

he placed her shorts back on, and stood up. he lifted her up, and carried her into the living room, where he sat her on the ground in front of the tv.

"stay." he told her, and walked back into the bedroom to dispose of the diaper.

his heart dropped into his stomach when he walked back, however. Maeve wasn't where he left her. he thought if she was on the floor, she'd have less of a chance of getting hurt when he wasn't right there.

he glanced around the open concept area of his apartment, and saw a burgundy bum disappear around the corner, towards the laundry room.

he raced after her, and scooped her up just before she entered the room.

"lets not go in there, its not safe." he said, sternly, but immediately knew it was the wrong decision when she burst into tears.

"shit." he said. he turned her around, and held her the way he'd seen Anais hold her earlier. "its okay. i'm sorry."

she settled down slightly after his apology, and laid her head on his shoulder. he saw her eyes flutter closed, and made his way back through his apartment to the bedroom. he shut the door softly, attempting not to wake her, and placed her now sleeping body on his bed.

he'd done some research last night, and knew he should move the pillows from around her. she was only 7 months, and he knew she was still in the SIDS risk category. he didn't want to risk it, so he moved the pillows and placed them around her as a makeshift crib. he turned around, and faced the actual crib, which was only half assembled.

he sighed and got to work.

Maeve stayed asleep for a few hours, which according to her file, was normal for her.

he headed into the kitchen, and looked at the box that held her highchair. it was almost 3 pm, so she'd most likely be hungry by the time she awoke.

August found that the highchair was much easier to assemble. it took him only 15 minutes rather than a few hours.

next, he scoured his cabinets for something suitable for her to eat while he ordered dinner.

he rarely bought groceries any more, since he was barely home due to missions, which was something he needed to talk to Sloane about. would she still let him on missions? would he be stuck on desk duty? who would watch Maeve? if he did find someone to watch her, would they be suitable to his taste for watching her?

he shook those questions out of his head briefly, and found Cheerios.

he loved Cheerios, and hoped that Maeve would too. her file said that she could eat most foods, and decided to order Chinese food for dinner. wasn't the healthiest for her, but it would do. he also ordered a few more things for Maeve, such as diapers, baby food and snacks, and few toys. he didn't know if she had other toys when she was living with her mother, but she needed some.

while he waited for her to wake up, and the food and baby items to arrive, he looked up some toys that he could get for her. he thought about what he played with, but the memory was fuzzy, and he didn't think Legos were suitable for a 7 month old.

he ended up buying a Children's Factory 5 Piece Ball Pit, a Melissa and Doug play kitchen, an iPad, a few Barbies, big Lego blocks, a few books and puzzles. he knew it wouldn't be everything he needed, but it was a start. he glanced around the apartment, and decided to start looking for a bigger one.

the one he lived in, while small, was rather expensive. it was only. one bedroom, but had a full laundry, two full bathrooms, a large terrace, and even an outdoor entertaining area upstairs. he knew Maeve would need a playroom, and a bedroom, and he'd need an office so he could keep Maeve and work separate.

he was about to look at apartments when he heard Maeve crying, he little sobs tugging on his heart strings already.

dinner time went rather well, August thought. he gave her small cut up bits of everything, and the only thing she didn't like was the fortune cookie. she ate up all the noodles, and the lemon chicken, as well as the Cheerios.

he decided to skip bath time for today, he was way to nervous to handle a wet slippery baby by himself right now.

he put a sheet on her mattress, and laid her down with her stuffy, and her pacifier, and she drifted off to sleep rather easily.

August laid in his bed and watched his daughters chest move up and down while she slept.

that wasn't too bad, he thought to himself.

#august walker x ofc #august walker x reader #august walker x y/n #august walker x female reader #august walker x you #august walker fanfiction #august walker imagine

[smugraccoon137]

Supergirl Season 2 episode 8 Medusa review part 2

If your curious part 1 was just my breakdown of Kara and Mon-els relationship that got way too long. But as always SPOILERS AND GAY THOUGHTS AHEAD

Me and kel get so excited when Lenas in an episode. Like practically giddy. I can’t help smiling when shes on screen honestly. And yes Katie McGrath is beautiful, but beyond that such a pretty smile and lovely voice. I’m sure ratings started to spike when she joined the cast. Okay enough about pretty girls on to the review 

Tipsy fucking Alex though guys I can’t get over this mess of a person. 

Alex: if I have to come out to my mom then I choose to do it drunk

Kara: no your not *yoinks beer*

Alex: wait no my coming out juice

Kara Danvers sneaky sneaker extraordinaire can totally interview Lena and find out Cadmus things without anyone knowing. The confidence this goofball has is top tier

Underrated relationship: Alex and Winn though. I really really love Winn and honestly Alex is such big sister energy to both him and Kara. 

wow Lenas pretty in the interview scene. A touch of auburn hair from the sunlight really makes this shot and we never get to see her with her hair down. Fan service honestly, or maybe she heard a certain beef cake reporter was gonna come by and wanted to dazzel her.

Lena: hair up is for business. Hair down is for flirting friendship time with Kara

Poor baby thinks she falls short nooooo. Your doing your best godamn your only like 25 jesus. Kara give her a hug she needs love and affection

Kara thinks shes being so sneaky in this interview. Such a golden retriever, bad at sneakin. As soon as she toes the line Lena catches on and kicks her out. Really good acting in the scene, the subtle change in expression to show Lenas guard raising. Good job Katie.

Real quick Lena why is your office so ugly? How do you keep it clean? You spend 99% of your days in this place and its whiter than a hospital room. I hate it. Why is your desk an oval? and why does it have a hole in it? Kara cant eat you out in secret anymore damn. 

OOHHHhhhh noooo the fucking gas bomb in the bar what the fuck. EVERYBODIES DEAD JESUS WHAT WAS THAT

Poor Mon-el. What happened at the bar was fucked up, and he feels like its fault when its obviously not.

Love that he and Kara are having bro time playing some Monopoly. Oh no not Kara asking if he likes her. Honestly thought these two had good chemistry in this scene. Im a sucker for dumbass not understanding certain words and phrases. So Kara having to reiterate her questions and finally being like “You don’t want to mate with me do you?” was super fun. Omegaverse vibes mfs. Although I am confused by mon-els reaction “I mean have you seen the kind of women I’ve been attracting?” I honestly don’t know what this means.

Kara internal reaction though: Oh thank god

Wow Kara really just has no regard for her own life, huh? she just opens the door and possibly contaminates herself. It’s good to want to help people, but love you gotta care about yourself too

Good reveal with the fortress of solitude. Oof Kara gonna feel like its her fault all those aliens died and mon-els sick. They do a really good job of showing Karas relationship with her parents through their holograms. She wants so badly to see them again, to talk to them. And she can, but not really. They just aren’t real.

Lena cattily to her mother: im used to celebrating holiday weekends alone at my desk

me to Kara: please invite her to thanksgiving

Okay so Lena being adopted is another interesting parallel to Kara. Also the fact that both Kara and Lena fall into there families shadows, and are left behhind or forgotten. Really interesting how Lena and Karas relationship is so similar to Clark and Lex’s for obvious purposes. Though the CW queer coding the fuck out of their relationship in Smallville really only adds to Supercorp fever. Its always been Homoerotic subtext Harold!

Me watching Lena and Lillian trade verbal blows: Wow ya’lls relationship is fucked up. Lex and Lionelle would spar and fence but you two are on another level jesus

oooooof that last line. 

Lena: I know your lying

Lillian: and how could you possibly know that?

Lena: because you told me you loved me. And we both know thats not true

Who wrote this jesus fuck my heart. The PAIN.

Bonus thought Lena thinks Karas smart. Goofball beefcake sneaky sneakster who doesnt know the difference between flirting and friendship is smart she thinks. I love these idiots

Wow Kara just doesn’t wait huh? Oh cadmus is going to be at LCorp? Not on my watch. Lena’s there. I know this because I tune into her heart beat just to check on her cus she likes to work late. Don’t worry Alex it’s for friendship reasons.

That LCorp security guard got princess carried for .2 seconds. Best moment of his life.

God its like dark out. Lenas working on a holiday weekend into the night. I hate this, give her friends.

Lena looks so scared when Kara gets thrown into the giant LCorp sign

And then hurt Kara looking up at her with dread.

Kara internal: fuck don’t come out now. I came here to save you

God I love the protectiveness. Its *chefs kiss*. Hank throwing the beam at Lena and Kara even in her hurt state throwing herself in front of it. Sometimes self sacrifice is gay. But how Lena looks at her after wards like “I can’t believe I’m alive. I can’t believe she chose to save me”. Met with a gruff “Get out of here!”. mm yes this is my kind of content. Fight for me.

I was robbed an aftercare scene but I doubt it will be the last time. (*COUGHS* the “im leaving” phone call *COUGHS*)

Talking about the virus Eliza: what about Lena Luthor?

Kara: What about her?! (super defensive is also a super power maam)

Winn: Luthors can be pretty good actors

Kara: No, I looked into LENAS EYES. She doesn’t know anything about cadmus or her mother

J’onzz: Would you stake Mon-els life on that?

well I guess that really puts Lena and Mon-el right next to each other in priorities huh? Which one is more important? 

Wow Lena totally has a crush on Supergirl after that. Flustered dork. 

Lena: *laughs nervously* you know that doors not really an entrance

Kara: *upsettit stone face pupper*

Lena: :,) 

Okay but the way Lena just says “Anything” all breathless and helpful when Kara says she needs her help. Shes crushin hard

Kara tells Lena her mother is in charge of Cadmus. 

Lena: >:(

Annnd the crush is dead. That did not last long. Really love that Lena has such a different relationship with Kara vs Supergirl though, good dynamic having her reactions so different. Which I believe actually relates as a Clark and Lois parallel? Seeing as how Lois has two separate relationships with Clark and Superman. 

OOf the way Lenas throat bobs with genuine sadness because who she thought Supergirl was is wrong. Shes just like the rest of them. Thinks Lena is just another crazy Luthor. It hurts

Kara: I know what its like to be disillusioned by our parents, but Im a pretty good judge of character, and you are not like your mother. She is cold and dangerous. And you are too good and too smart to follow in her path. Be your own Hero.

Wow just what a good line. They are capable of some things here and there arent they? Melissa's delivery on this is excellent. And the way Katie McGrath is able to show such depth of sadness and bitterness even from a shot of her BACK is really cool. Great acting in this scene in particular. And I can see why the “desperation to be good” is such a highlighted part of these two relationship. Its the one thing in common between Lena and Supergirl, the place where they can meet in the middle. And the way Lena looks after her as she leaves! AHHH thats the good shit, the pining

Okay big Mon-el scene in coming so if you dont want to hear my ranting skip over this part. 

Funny how as soon as Kara has this big impactful scene with Lena full of tension and emotion the writers were like: shit we almost forgot Mon-els dying. 

Kara: *staring sadly back into Lenas office kind of wanting to go back in*

Writers: *cough cough* KARA He’s DYINGGGG

Kara: Oh shit right. Mon-el Oh no. My *looks at poorly written handwriting on her palm* romantic interest?

Wow Mon-el looks like shit, poor guy. Someone swaddle this pillow princess and get him some soup.

Heres a question. Kara is visibly upset that Mon-el is dying. Is it because she’s sad that the guy shes likes is dying. Because her friend is dying? Because her father created the virus thats killing him (what the writers want us to think)? Or because no matter what Kara does the people she loves keep falling through the cracks and shes helpless to stop it?

Her parents. Clark. Her adoptive father. Now Lena. Now Mon-el. Why can’t she ever do anything? Why is it always her fault? This poor kid has some deep seeded abandonment issues

Mon-el: you know you look beautiful with the weight of all these worlds on your shoulders.

I do remember my reaction here, cus I thought this was a weird line. A line that was obviously meant to be romantic and complimentary, but it felt unsettled in my stomach. Coming back and watching the scene it sits even more uncomfortably there. He obviously means well, but this line is kind of just shitty. Its a very selfish and unthoughtful thing to say to someone. 

Kara’s entire fucking life has revolved around other people and making sure they are happy and taken care of. But having “failed” at such a young age to do the impossible things asked of her (carrying on Kryptons legacy, raising Clark) she overcompensates. Any normal person would just make their life revolve around their family and friends, not healthy but it works. But Kara feels responsibility over an entire world of lost people and lives. So the amount she overcompensates is ungodly. She does have the weight of worlds on her shoulders. This is not a joke or hyperbole. Its just her life. And thats so fucking shitty. And to have someone actually see that and acknowledge it. To make it a reality so to speak. Then to have them say “yeah you look good like this” while you’re a shaking Atlas being crushed. It is just a little too much isn’t it? That pain to have someone see you finally, and then completely miss the point. For them to go “oh wow your so strong. your so brave” instead of “let me help you. you shouldn’t have to do this at all, forget by yourself. But now I am here”. 

I imagine this was the scene that crowned my darling himbo boy Mon-Hell? Which is so unfortunate. I hope Im wrong, but I feel that his character might just end up a big missed opportunity

I want everyone to know that me and Kel screamed through the entire enxt few seconds of the scene. We knew the kiss was coming from how they were building it up. But god was it painful, especially for it to be delivered after a line like THAT. But yeah very loud angry screaming

Also not to be that bitch but Kara and Mon-els scene was a total of 1:53 RT, and Kara and Lenas ran at a 1:57 RT. Just sayin...

No Lena don’t be evil thats too sexy...

Okay but the way that Lena just tricks Lillian is so good. Shes so clever. And added bonus she makes her ask for her help, which is nice actually. Lillian's obvious vice is weakness and that is often shown in embarrassment. A woman like this asking for help borders that line of weakness and its nice to see on such a dislikable character. Lena didn’t just get what she wanted she got a point over her mother.

Lena looks good in the purple coat. Repeat she is pretty

Love the mental chess game between Lena and Lillian. Lena offering help right off the bat and giving her the isotope free of charge. And then Lillian making Lena launch the virus to prove herself. Good stuff.

Kara appears: don’t do it Lena!

Lena: why not? im a luthor

Okay so obviously Lena switched the Isotope and the Virus won’t work. But thats what makes this line so perfect. Throwing it back in Supergirls face. Like “Yeah, Im a luthor. And Ill show you what im capable of.” But instead of mass death and destruction Lena saves the day. She saved thousands of lives, and its because shes a Luthor that she was able to do that. Really nice way to full circle that 

Wow Lillian really just starts booking it without Lena, huh? bitch

I really love the scene of the virus falling all around National City. The choice of an orangish snow falling was a really really good one. Paired with some excellent music for the mid season finale.

Its sad but I do love Hank just being ready and at peace with death. Im sure he misses his wife and daughters. 

Okay but Lena calling the cops is tea. Send your mom to jail honey. 

So we’re really not gonna talk about how Lena saved everyones asses? Like don’t you think Supergirl would want to talk to the woman that A) kind of tricked her, and B) saved National City. Thats just what makes sense??? But no we’re going to ignore that the DEO is a kind of shit at their job sometimes. And that the woman that they were accusing of having a part to play in all the xenophobic shit is the one who did their job. BY HER SELF. 

Okay rant over. This was a long one review dear god. Really really good episode though. I enjoyed rewatching all the scenes even if it was a mixed bag of feelings. Thanks for reading hope you enjoyed all the screaming!

#supergirl #supercorp #supergirl review #episode review #supergirl episode review #cw #supergays #kara #kara danvers #kara zor el #mon-el #Mike mathews #lena luthor #lena #season 2 #season 2 episode review #text #textpost #sneaky sneakster #clever lady in a purple coat #sick puppy dog says some questionable things #gay thoughts #too many to count #wanna do a supercorp parallel essay at some point #maybe after ive watched more #Hope everyones enjoying the reviews #Kel always proof reads for me #get you a man that screams with you when the forced love interest is about to kiss the main character

[kdramacrybaby]

The Red Sleeve (2021)

Genre: Romance, Melodrama, Historical

Synopsis: Seong Deok-im is a young court maid in training, who is tasked to work in the East Palace for the Crown Prince. While working at the library, as Deok-im is highly skilled in calligraphy, she meets a young nobleman. The two, though they at first do not get along, form a sort of friendship despite their differences in rank. This becomes even more apparent when the young nobleman turns out to be the Crown Prince himself. The Crown Prince finds himself drawn to the court maid, but for Deok-im, befriending the Crown Prince might only bring her life in danger.

Episode info: 17 episodes / Runtime around 70 minutes

Lead cast: Lee Jun-ho (Yi San), Lee Se-young (Seong Deok-im), Kang Hoon (Hong Deok-ro)

Link to watch: You can watch on Viki or Dramacool

Drama rec masterlist | Drama rant thread (beware of spoilers)

I want to start this out by explaining something - before watching a drama, I do very little in terms of research and such, as I do not want the drama to be ruined by coming across spoilers. I usually see a couple of gifs and if I determine that the drama will be one I watch, I then start scrolling past anything to do with it until I have watched it.

This time, it meant that I missed out on just how much of this drama is actually drawn from real life - King Yisan was a very real king, who was the first king to write in detail about the love he had for his concubine, Deok-im.

If I had known this before going into the drama, I might have not complained about it as much as I have, and so my rants are more negative than what I think of the drama now.

One of my complaints was that I never really felt like I knew where Deok-im was with her emotions and her intentions for her actions, which also meant that I never really quite connected to her as a person. This might be a direct result of the fact that all the information about her came directly from the king's perspective, and he never knew what her true feelings were either.

I was also confused for a while, as the first few episodes made this out to be a typical historical romance drama with all the cute fluff we usually see, only to suddenly change the tone. I do like how this drama made a big point of how a romance between a royal and a court maid could never be an easy situation to navigate, and that, realistically, it would probably not have a happy ending. A lot of other historical dramas typically tend to have the perfect ending (and I love happy endings, don't get me wrong), though it could probably never really have happened.

The only other historical drama I can think of, that I have watched, that did the same, is Moon Lovers: Scarlet Heart Ryeo. From what I remember, there was also a bigger emphasis on the struggles of the palace within the court walls, rather than the romance itself (though it has been years since I watched, so correct me if I'm wrong).

Also, the romance itself was not a very healthy relationship, but I do not think it was meant to be, though they didn't make that clear until later. The first couple of episodes really felt like a different drama.

For me, the romance was the... I don't want to say the worst part, but definitely the least interesting part of the plot. I loved how we got to follow the life of a court maid in detail, and see just how important they can be. We get to see how they navigate through the inner politics in the palace, their lives literally depending on the mood of the royalty they serve.

One thing I think they did well, was how the drama was colored. Usually, historical dramas tend to be full of really powerful, beautiful colors everywhere, and while this did have all the same costumes and sets as the others, the colors were a lot more muted, which served the tone nicely.

I will say that the first half of the drama, other than feeling different, also felt rushed. It gets better about the halfway mark, and then the last two or so episodes skip through time a lot, which makes me wish they had done another episode to really flesh it out more. I loved the drama while it was paced nicely, but a lot of the time it felt like they were skimming through the pages.

The reason this isn't getting a higher score, despite me actually liking this drama a lot, is because I never really connected to any of the main characters. I see why they were written the way they were, and the actors were spectacular as always, but I never really felt like I actually cared about them. The only times I cried wasn't for the main characters.

If you like historical dramas, I would definitely recommend it though! A nice contrast to the other historical romances out there.

#the red sleeve #kdrama rec #kdrama review

[innittowinit]

SBI headcanons awooga

Some headcanons and things for my sbi fd! Abandoned amusement park fic lol 

Here's the link if you haven't read it btw 

SBI last name is Reid, DT last name is Jackson btw lmao, i probably won't mention it much though unless it's like Mrs Reid for the sbi mom y'know

This has Tommy, Techno, Wilbur and Phil included; lmk if a dt post would be a good idea too 

Tommy

The youngest brother, he’s seven lmao what a child

Even though he’s the youngest, he’s also the most confrontational and will gladly ‘fight’ anyone who talks bad about his brothers 

He can’t fight

He’s very tall for his age but is also extremely light since he’s always running around 

Phil tries to get him to try new foods a lot but Tommy’s a really picky eater

...Tantrums.. Every time he doesn’t get his way

This lead to his brothers spoiling him quite a bit, he’s still sweet enough though since Phil has had many stern conversations with him about being nice to people 

Has a toy music boy, with collectable discs

Wilbur got his first disc for him, it’s his most prised possession 

Every time he does all of his chores (which are really just small things like clean up after himself and keep his room tidy) someone, whether its his Mum, Wilbur or someone else, gets him a new disc 

Techno got him ‘Pig step’ for his seventh birthday and he listens to it every night before bed 

One time he snuck downstairs while Techno and Wilbur were having a sleepover and watched the horror movie they were watching without them realising it. Techno and Wil were the ones to get into trouble since Tommy wouldn’t sleep for a week afterwards. 

Techno had to read him a story every night until he stopped thinking he was going to be eaten by a demon in the middle of the night 

Drinks way too much caffeine for a kid, someone take this boys coke away

He’s got a habit of biting his nails, which has left him with some pretty crooked teeth, which will probably need to be fixed with braces when he’s older. 

It’s also gross because he climbs so much there’s almost always dirt under his nails 

Hasn’t really grasped the whole concept of not saying everything he thinks yet

Oh my god someone shut this boy up

He still believes in Santa and The easter bunny too

One time Techno told him Oogie Boogie from the nightmare before christmas was real and he cried

He talks a lot in school because he finds it boring but he’s also very good at maths and English for his age

Wilbur 

Middle child, Wil is 13. Techno’s twin 

He’s pretty insecure about his music even though he’s been playing his whole life

That’s why he likes being able to practice in L’manburg, there’s no pressure to be perfect when he’s alone with his brothers 

Super extroverted and confident in everything else though, Since Techno can’t talk to most people, he usually tries to speak for both of them

After realising that Techno didn’t really like it when he said ‘Techno thinks’ a lot, back in primary school, he adapted to trying to speak for what Techno wants without making Techno’s issues obvious

They tell people who need to know, but for people they’ll only talk to a few times they usually just get away with Wilbur acting super obnoxious and loud so it seems like Techno just doesn’t have room to talk, rather than that he can't 

It’s easier than getting into it since they don’t feel like most people will understand

has separation Anxiety, when he’s not with his brother he doesn’t relax/ feel safe at all. If it happens at school he won't do his work at all/ Will probably just leave the room and try to find Techno

Everyone kinda knows this and they try to suit things around it without saying it outright 

He’s kinda embarrassed, he likes to think he’s the one protecting Techno but really they need each other the same amount 

Techno gets this though, He doesn’t mind if wilbur has a bit of a saviour complex, he’ll play along if it makes him happy 

They’re working on it with their Therapist though so don’t worry, he won't grow up to be an ass

Interests (besides music) include: 

Watching obscure documentaries 

Disney movies, favourite is peter pan 

  Skating 

He and Techno got Picked on in primary school for being so close, he learnt kickboxing so he could defend himself if things ever got physical. Luckily they didn’t but he still knows how to kickbox so watch out

Almost always turning in homework late, he’s good at talking his way out of Detentions though. 

And when he cant talk his way out, Techno finds a way to get detention too

He’s VERY protective of his younger brother(s(he was born first so he likes to insist that Techno is his little brother)) 

That’s good for the most part but he can be a little overbearing sometimes, he’s got detention many many times for cussing out people who so much as looked at Techno wrong 

When he’s feeling guilty he mumbles a lot 

Techno 

Middle child, 13. Wilbur’s twin

Has selective Mutism, completely fine talking to Wilbur, Only talks to Tommy and Phil if Wil is there too but other than that he’s completely fine talking to them as well. He speaks to his parents but not as openly as he does with his brothers, with them its usually very quiet, one word sentences 

Like Wilbur, separation Anxiety also, It’s not as bad as Wilbur’s is though, Wil just makes him comfortable enough to talk with his brothers, he can deal with being without Wilbur but he absolutely doesn’t want to

He can be a bit arrogant and possessive of his brothers at times, he’s a bit scared of them leaving him because he can be so difficult so he has a tendency to be cold to any new people they bring home 

Interests include: Pvp games, ancient china, farming

He was hyper-fixated on a cartoon when he was younger and now he has multiple cosplays from it that he’ll probably never wear again

His hair is LONG and pink, they never figured out why it grew so fast or why it was pink but it is lmao 

When he was born his parents were terrified, they thought he had some kind of rare condition that was going to hurt him but the doctors eventually came to the conclusion that he just had healthy hair that grew fast and the pinkness was due to an abnormality in the melanin in his system or something idk fellas im failing science pls pretend this part makes sense 

Being silent with long pink hair as a kid, he got picked on a lot. There were many instances where he just pushed kids over or hit them because they were being mean 

Since he’s the quiet one, teachers usually trust him a lot so he and wilbur used to skip class a lot, back when they got picked on, by saying they had to help another teacher do something

In an attempt to get him to be more social, his parents signed him up for violin lessons aged 8, he really liked his teacher and had even managed to speak a little to her over the past 4 years he took lessons 

Spaces out a lot 

He watches a lot of conspiracy theory videos but he doesn’t actually believe any of them, he just finds them interesting

One time he convinced Tommy they were living in a simulation and Tommy hit a kid to see if his hand would pass through

He’s spoken a few words to squidkid too since they’re childhood friends and he’s very comfortable with him. Ironically all he seems to say to him is ‘bozo’ to tease the other for saying it so often, instead of literally any other insult

Phil 

Oldest brother, 16 

Cares about his brothers so so so so so much like he will do anything to keep them happy and safe

One time he missed an exam because Tommy was sick and he wanted to take him to the doctor before anything else

Tommy was fine btw, just one of those bugs you get when you're little

Their parents are pretty distant so Phil has been pretty much raising them since he was little, he doesn’t mind though

Their parents aren’t bad people or anything, they just get called out a lot for work and can’t be at home a whole bunch, it’s a big part of the reason why Techno never got comfortable talking a lot around them

He works at a Nearby florist to get extra cash to buy his brothers things when his parents arent home

When their mum is home, he brings her flower arrangements home from work because he is sweet <3

He’s really into mythology and Folklore as well as drawing, when he was younger he had multiple sketchbooks filled up with different creatures that he had drawn 

When he, techno and wilbur were all little, he used to play a game with them where they’d describe a monster off the tops of their heads and he’d draw it for them 

Techno and Wilbur loved this and always put up Phil’s drawings on their bedroom walls 

When he was 13 he used to write angsty poetry, He told wilbur about it one day and that's when wilbur first started adding lyrics to his songs 

He can be pretty gullible, he likes to believe that people mean good no matter how hard it might be to see it that way 

He can hold grudges for a pretty long time, he’s quick to forgive when it’s himself that’s been hurt but it’s very very hard to get on his good side again if you hurt his brothers 

Watches Alien theories with techno, unlike techno he actually believes in them

Has the ‘i believe in aliens’ poster 

When they were little, he used to grow strawberry plants with techno and Wilbur, this is what prompted techno to start growing other vegetables in their garden himself

#sleepyblr #sleepy bois inc #sbi #fanfic #mcyt #mineblr

[yarnshoes]

Time skip sd!!Maki gives off finance bro vibes ngl 😬but the kind that's emotionally available.drinks respect women juice.polite and kind to everyone.likes kids.the type of guy that has multiple side hustles because he wants to make as much money as he can and retire early.into fashion, likes everything designer.looks like he would be really into interior design. Aesthetics are very important to him.i can see him with quite a big following on Instagram but he's not exactly an influencer.just someone who posts aesthetic pictures.is into coffee.

Sorry for posting so much.suddenly I have waves of ideas coming out of nowhere probably the loneliness 💀idk if you remember but I was the anon who was jobless for a really long time but I finally got a job.I'm not doing so well here but that's okay little things like this makes me happy. Also happy new year yasu,wishing the best for your future 🙆🏽‍♀️

Oh yeah yep my mans definitely a business student but the only difference he has w his peers is that hes a nice humble guy lmao🤕 i like how almost everyone hc him coming from a wealthy family. Hard agree on everything u just said!!

Additional gen z au for sendoh, kogure, haruko (n a message for u!) below🚶

Sendoh: 100% still enjoys fishing (its a pretty integral part of his personality imo, signaling patience, aloofness, and detachment esp as a teenager). I dont rly see him as being into video games at all, instead he might have niche little interests that he never revealed. Maybe marine biology? Like watching underwater nature live cams for hours at a time. Weird guy. Bad w technology.

Kogure: i feel like he might b rly into making educational content on tiktok or yt, like vsauce but way more amateur-like yknow. Wud absolutely take engineering classes in college, fascinated w machinery (niche lil thing: i think hed LOVE studying ancient/old mechanisms). And bc hes rather knowledgeable abt these things, hes very very against smart appliances and weird modern tech trends (bitcoins etc).

Haruko: ok so. I somehow hc her as having..... Weird cutesy tastes as a genz teen. U know marzia? P*wdiepies wife? Kinda like her. Rly rly into cute and colorful pottery/handcrafts and her room is full of em. 100% has an aesthetic insta/tiktok acc where she posts her stuff. Fairy lights. Loves indie female musicians. Ghibli girl.

Im so glad ur somewhat having fun talking w me still ^w^ sry i dont rly post sd on this blog anymore, everything abt that goes to malewifemaki! Congrats on ur job!! I hope this yr is gentler and kinder to all of us! Be well n stay healthy, im here if u wanna talk abt anything.💕

#slam dunk #sd asks #long post

[littlefoxwithbighat]

Hi! This is talking about the plot of the dream smp in a meta sense and its a bit negative. The person behind this blog wants to remind you that you can skip if it's not for you and they still love the SMP. :)

ALL DISCUSSION IS ABOUT CHARACTERS. DON'T ATTACK CCS OR I WILL STEAL YOUR KNEECAPS.

I can't lie; I'm really annoyed and worried at the way the writers are handling Tommys character at the moment, and am increasingly concerned about it messing up the plot.

I wasn't very happy with the finale. I don't think that means all is lost, I think they can pull it back but it's going to take some work. I was worried about the way that things were handled before but the green festival was actually very well handled, so my worries were mostly assuaged. But yesterday? I don't know.

The fact nobody lost a cannon death is kind of disappointing. The weight of blowing up an entire city/ (country?) brutally is somewhat lost if there is no human loss. Nobody was hurt physically and the only people this had a big mental impact on was Tommy and Tubbo, everyone else wasn't very attached to L'manburg or had gone rogue, or were detatched from the while situation. And maybe it's the fact it's happened to them before or that they still have each other or that it seems odd/ frustrating that they still care so much about this place or that it was always a losing battle and they knew it, but I dont find myself really pitying them like I probably should. And I think that comes down to character growth or lack thereof, which I'll discuss later.

Niki and Fundy have started a villain arc, or at least a violent nihilism arc, and I actually don't mind it, in fact I'm a fan but it wasnt really foreshadowed, or really just showing them cracking as much as it should have been. I would guess this has mostly been started for both of them to tie Niki into the plot and I can't blame her for wanting that. Fundys acting is very good, and I REALLY hope the writers handle this well. For Fundy, regarding the fact that his father is going to be resurrected and that Fundy is following in his footsteps... If the writers don't realise that connection and make this a big step in Fundys narrative I will scream. Also Funboo bros are very interesting character foils and I hope their relationship is maintained so that they can play of off each other and also man I just really want them to keep being friends, it's a generally positive healthy relationship that makes both characters sympathetic and we need that right now. As for Niki, her character motivations seem to be mostly centered around Tommy and on the one hand I'm like ehhhh, because Tommy's character already gets a disproportionate amount of attention in terms of narrative, and I get it, but recently he's been a bit TOO much of the protagonist for a multi-person POV improve server... and I'm apprehensive. However on the other hand this has potential for a nice confrontation between Tommy and Niki. If that happens I want Tommy to be aware that this is going to happen and not talk over Niki, and I don't want it to be brushed over. I think it would be best if it was just the two of them. This also gives a nice chance for Tommy to examine his trauma with Dream and explain his motivations and Niki to get her anger out. I also want it to end positively, because it absolutely can and lack of communication when the viewer knows how to fix it is OK as a plot device sometimes but incredibly frustrating if it keeps happening (cough, Tommy and Techno).

Ranboo is reacting to the plot amazingly and I have as usual only praise for him, go, you funky enderman boy, go.

Wilbur is getting resurrected which is a thousand percent because Will wants the plot back and honestly I don't really mind, I think he'll do a good job. However I really hope he speaks to everybody about their characters, particularly Fundy, Ranboo and Niki because I don't want their characterisation and arcs to be thrown away.

Tubbo is doing very well, and I don't have many complaints to be honest. I hope he continues to get in with the acting with no shame, because he's an amazing VA when he wants to be, but sometimes he undercuts serious moments a little too much by laughing. Same criticism for Phil actually. But both are doing good.

On the theme of that, while I don't mind tension relievers or humour in serious moments there are sometimes too many. It was a lot worse about a month back and it was improving, but it seems to be creeping back in and ehhh. It's kind of Marvel-esque and not in a good way? I think it has a lot to do with bloopers and for some reason there are loads at the moment? Like Wilburs arc had almost none and this arc there's at least 2 every moment. Which isn't always their fault but maybe they need to take more steps to prevent them.

Techno is doing OK, he's quite a meta character so I'm not too mad about him undercutting serious moments but sometimes he does do it too much or in the wrong place. Like making jokes about Connor completely over the top of Tommy and Tubbos reunion, you know an event which has been foreshadowed for yoinks, prevented them from getting a proper flow going and kind of ruined it. And that made the reunion really dissapointing, which is a shame because it could have been so cool. However his characterisation is consistent and dedicated, his goals and relationships are clear and he's getting humanised more which is nice, and his monologues are great. I'm curious to see what he does now NL'M is gone but I have total faith in him.

Now Tommy. Oh Tommy. His character is such a mess at the moment, which is a shame because there were moments I saw people doubting his character choices and I was behind him.

Firstly the relationship with Techno fell apart. That was inevitable. Tommy didn't care about anarchy and Techno didn't care about the discs and both of their goals would impede the others. But the way Tommy talks about Techno is so... No? And now I understand that Tommy is going to have a biased perspective on the whole situation, and that's fine and good, but his character is so wrong about Techno it feels weird and painful? Like even from his perspective it went down differently to how he talks about it. They don't listen to each other and it's like watching two people scream at a wall.

The issue is the relationship was fairly well developed. I struggle to see Tommy saying he saw Techno as a friend but Techno never saw him as a friend because hold on, what? Techno, here's a respiration helmet because of that one of thing you told me about your trauma, a disc because those make you happy, plus top tier armour and weaponry, plus I'm going to spend time with you, calm you down from panic attacks, hide you and protect you from Dream, let you wander around L'manburg and achieve your own goals and help you plan things out Techno and Tommy didn't get ANYTHING from that? Plus after Techno opens up about his goals and his trauma, do the one thing that would hurt him the most, (use and then betray him) and then directly oppose his goals after he helped me? Ugh. It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I know he would never let Tubbo get hurt and thats fine, but there were ways around that. If you're framing this character as the protagonist, then he needs to be sympathetic or at least grow and Tommy using Techno again without remorse and then refusing to listen to his perspective or show any gratitude for anything makes it difficult for viewers to empathise with him in my opinion. Have him betray Techno and then listen to Techno when he explains why Tommys betrayal hurt him and apologise, fine. Have him listen to Techno and try and find a way to keep Tubbo safe regardless, fine. Have him betray Techno but apologetically and still trying to avoid Techo getting crushed or killed, fine. But THIS? Im sympathetic towards Tommys character but this throws away so much potential character development for Tommy, where at least he saw Techno as a person, and not only that but a nice person who despite everything has set aside everything to help him? And then for him to be exactly where he was at the end of season 1, both literally, and emotionally ? I understand this is a child soldier with trauma but this is supposed to be our protagonist and if he doesn't grow, and isn't sympathetic and destroys someone we care about, how can we root for him?

Now all of this could be forgivable, not great, but forgivable, if Tommy had moved on from the discs. The Goddamn Discs™. And the worse part is all the dominoes were lined up to suggest he had! We had his moment of "he watched me" where he realised Dream was the villain and controlling him, "I've become worse than everyone I hated" good, amazing, I see where this is going, "The discs were worth more than you ever were!" and then he retracts and apologises and you think horray! Tommy has realised the discs were being used to control him and if he doesn't care about them, they hold no value! Now he's going to realise that his friends are more important and he's going to stop going after the discs. His new character motivation can be killing Dream and protecting his friends, especially Tubbo. It's clearly angled this way, and this way the plot progresses and Tommy with it. What marvellous character development. Look at him go.

And THEN, after everything that's happened he says the most important thing is the disc and I want them back!?!? EH !!? Why... Who... Who gave the OK on that writing decision? That's so static and boring and unsympathetic! And then he's back to asking people do fight for L'manburg? What?

I'll be honest I was kind go hoping either Tommy or Tubbo would die with L'manburg. I didn't mind it they didn't, there are a thousand ways to make the plot work without them dying, but this was not a great one.

PLEASE let Tommy have some growth. Yes he's had some from not caring about L'manburg to fighting for it in season one, but that was ages ago and he doesnt seem to have changed since then in any way that really counts. And I know this is harsh and he's traumatised but you have to understand I am talking about this in a sense of characters and narrative and NOT in terms of real life. Tommy needs to be better and dynamic because he is a charcacter and I want him to be a good one.

Having said all that, here are my thoughts on the future of the SMP.

Firstly, I am worried that becuse it is such a good source of content, especially for Tommy that they will never ever kill his character and leave him fighting with Dream for eternity. And I love the Dream SMP but I've seen stories that get dragged out for plot or content, and however much you think you want it to never end, let me tell you, yes you do. It will get stale and repetitive and I want the dream smp, or at least Tommys arc to go out with a beautiful and brilliant and fabulous plot ending instead of being dragged into the dirt. And then maybe new characters take the spotlight. Just please god give it a goode ending.

I also really hope they don't throw other things away to make Tommy the centre of attention, especially if it's destructive to the plot, or kind of weird and obnoxious.

Secondly, I am intrigued about the prison and Schlatts book to Dream and Technos favour and the egg and what that entails and I hope they really think through those plot points carefully and make them work, and don't forget them or throw them away.

Thirdly, I am intrigued for Wilburs return and hope that he manages to fix it cohesively without too crazy a change of pace and style and keeping characters (especially Ranboo and Fundy and Niki) consistent.

I hope they prep for the future and think things thought and communicate with each other.

It might be interesting to see other countries finally discussed but I don't know how much that would intefere with other plot points so we'll see.

That's all! Reminder that this is about characters and plot and this is just a few criticisms. I love the dream smp, but there are somethings I wanted to get of my chest. Please be respectful and feel free to discuss in the notes. Also, again, no hate to any CCs!

#mcyt #mcytumblr #dream smp theories #dream smp analysis #dream smp #dream smp spoilers #dream smp meta #tommy mcyt #negativity #negativity tw #dream smp plot