#“all i see is white people” are you sure

[oceantornadoo]

ch6 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: dirty talk and fingering

masterlist | next

The following week, you learn John Price’s meaning of “friends.”

It means no repeats of the library incident, as you’ve dubbed it. It means no more handfed breakfast. It means no hourlong cuddle sessions.

It does mean waking up tangled together, even though you went to bed on opposite sides. It includes five, and no more, minutes of breathing in each other’s presence, pretending to be asleep while knowing the other person’s awake. It proceeds to mean you staying in bed while John gets up at an ungodly hour, watching him get ready through half-lidded eyes. He always wears some kind of workout set, shorts that show off his unfairly thick and hairy thighs and a tight shirt that you can see his defined pecs through. Even if he’s going to the gym, he tucks his Glock into the back of his shorts. He comes back an hour later (you’ve timed it to be sure) and while he’s careful not to wake you, your body simply doesn’t allow more sleep. 

If you’re lucky, he’ll take off his shirt before walking into the bathroom. He’ll shed it with ease, swiping it down his face as he calms his breathing. This routine of his is addicting, as if a higher power is forcing you to watch how sweat drips down his upper half. Then he’ll shower, sometimes with the sound of skin slapping against skin, and don one of his many suits. Always with a black button-up, never white. Sometimes a tie, sometimes not on the days he seems more agitated than usual, like he can’t be bothered putting on his mask of professionalism. When he’s ready to leave, after he tucks his gun back in, he approaches you in bed. That’s when you play your game of false-sleep, eyelids stone-still as he finds your hand and kisses the top of it.

When he leaves, you don’t see him until he crawls in late at night.

This bed of yours, your new gilded cage, is in the master bedroom of John’s Eaton Square apartment. Apartment is in an inadequate word, a building for normal people who aren’t filthy rich. John’s apartment is a palace, complete with a sitting room and courtyard garden. After the library incident, where you were shuffled back your Ritz hotel room and passed out on the bed from sheer embarrassment, you woke up in the morning with Gaz of all people in the corner chair of your room.

“Finally, she wakes.” You blink rapidly, trying to process the scene before you. The bed is cold, no John to be found. Morning light streams through the windows, turning Gaz into something like an angel with a golden halo. He looks positively affronted at your lie-in, frowning as you stay silent. “Aren’t ya s’pposed t’ be a mouthy brat?” Instead of replying, you fumble around the bed until you can find the decorative pillow that was digging into your back all night. You grip it tight and aim true, clocking Gaz in the chest as he smirks. “There she is. Welcome back t’ the land of the livin’, Mrs. Price.” You groan at his words, smothering yourself in blankets. “I’ll be outside when y’r ready, don’t have all day.”

When you emerge from the room, he looks slightly mollified, probably due to the biscuit in his hand. “You didn’t get one for me?” He scoffs, then hits the button to call the elevator. “If you’d waken ‘fore noon, you would’ve gotten a whole feast.” You wonder if you would have seen your husband as well. His presence, or lack thereof, is the elephant in the room. Well, elevator.

“Where’s…” He raises an eyebrow with intrigue. “Wha’, don’t say y’r gettin’ attached!” You roll your eyes, scooting away from him so you’re on opposite sides of this metal torture machine. “E’s workin’. I’ll be takin’ ya t’ the Castle.” He sounds positively miffed at this being his day’s work. “A castle? I thought he lived in London.” Gaz smiles ruefully. “We call it the Castle, real behemoth it is. Don’t worry, it’s in Eaton Square.” You knew he was rich, but wow. Did he even need this marriage if he has all this money? It seems like his bank account is big enough to buy out the Riley family outright.

Once the elevator opens to the lobby, Gaz guides you to a sleek black car waiting at the curb. It’s a silent car ride, only punctuated by Gaz’s occasional short phone call. When you arrive at the Castle, you feel a sudden kinship with Cinderella, feeling like a peasant in rags compared to the riches before you.

It looks a bit like the American White House, with columns of marble on each level of the ‘apartment’. The outside is all white, a testament to how clean this part of the city is. When Gaz guides you out of the car and through the gated entrance, you note how the two guards at the entrance nod at him with respect on their eyes. Before stepping into the house, you turn and find men stationed throughout the small park across the street. They seem like casual city-goers to the untrained eye, but you know too well the stiffness of a mafia man.

The entrance feels like you’re back at the Ritz, with its marble flooring and manicured potted plants. Gaz takes on the role of real estate agent, guiding you through a floral dining room and modern kitchen, giving you time to glimpse one of the bedrooms before turning you to the gardens. As you walk, you note a chef in the kitchen and a few men at the dining room table. They nod in greeting but not much else, seeming to be absorbed in the laptops in front of them. They lower their eyes in deference to you, like they’ll turn to stone if they glimpse at you for more than a few seconds. Gaz seems at ease with all of this, pointing out decor and architecture like you’re not at the base of London’s prime criminal headquarters. 

Once you enter the gardens, a sense of peace settles between you two, an acknowledgement of the garden’s natural beauty. “As y’know, Price has a lot of time on his hands t’ garden.” You can’t help but giggle at the joke, smiling at the gardener who’s watering some of the white flowers. There’s outside furniture, couches and tables, and you can’t help but imagine reading here on a balmy summer night. 

Instead of walking through to the other side, Gaz walks you out the way you came in. “Price’s study’s on th’ other side, so we’ve turned tha’ an’ th’ two bedrooms to a security area an’ supply room. Nothin’ you’ll be interested in.” Actually, you’re extremely interested in what Price’s business is, but you bite your tongue as Gaz walks upstairs and into a beautiful sitting room. “Christ, this house is more for a Victorian lady than John.” There’s a sense of winning in your stomach as Gaz barks out a laugh at your joke, nodding along. The sitting room has walls miles high, decorated by rigid furniture and old paintings. It doesn’t look used, seeming to be designed to keep people from overstaying their welcome with its lack of warmth. You absentmindly wonder how lonely John was before this marriage.

Finally, Gaz takes you to the master bedroom. There’s a guard stationed outside of it, a younger-looking man who’s probably been given the job with the least amount of responsibility - guarding a room when it’s not in use. The decor of the bedroom is more modern than the rest of the house, clean lines and beige walls. Unsurprisingly, it’s very organized, a glimpse into the closet revealing Price’s suits hanging next to each other. What is surprising is recognizing your own clothes next to his, tops and bottoms hanging in color-coordinated order. The closet is wall-to-wall, with a room between the bedroom and bathroom, dedicated just for changing. 

“Right, well, tha’s the tour.” You’re back in the bedroom, standing awkwardly. He slips you a business card: Kyle Garrick - Security Professional. You snort. “Don’t knock networkin’, princess. Tha’s got my number if ya need it, but only use me as a last resort. Price’ll hav’ my head if you call me before him.” You tuck it into the pocket of your jeans, then scratch your arm out of nervous habit. “What am I supposed to do now?” He shrugs, clearly unequipped to handle this discussion of your future. 

“Reckon you get comfortable. Lot of shit’s goin’ down now, so don’t expect Cap t’ be home at 5.”

“Cap?”

“‘S what we call Price. Runs this ship tight as a captain.”“So without him, you’ll sink?” Gaz nods seriously. “Y’ve got no idea.” Clearly wanting to get back to his actual work, and uncomfortable in his boss’s bedroom, he makes a quick goodbye, leaving you alone. Something to get used to.

Your usual solution to combat the feeling is to call your brother. He picks up on the second ring, concern etched into the vowels of his speech. “Alright, love?” You nod, then remember he’s not here. “Yeah, just bored, I guess. I just got to Price’s apartment, it’s a mansion, Si,-” “‘m sorry, kid, I’m dead busy right now. Let’s plan a call on the weekend, yeah?” Oh. Stupid, you should have remembered he has a life outside of you. If it were a regular day you’d have one too, opening your bookstore for your late Monday hours. “Right, sorry. Let’s call later.” He grunts, clearly distracted. “Olrigh’, talk soon. Love ya, kid.” “Love you too, Simon.” He hangs up right after your goodbye, not even a second of breathing between you. You’re really on your own. Guess it’s time to explore.

The thrill of exploring lost its sheen five days in. Five days of John leaving in the morning, five days of hand kisses and nothing else. You explore a room a day, forcing yourself to flip through every dusty book or memorize every old painting. You tried talking to the staff, but it’s clear they’re only there when necessary, wrapped up in their own duties. The Friday after your wedding, only a week after the club incident, you finally get to talk to another human.

She happens upon you in the dining room, eating a late breakfast.

“Kate Laswell, solicitor.” A hand appears in front of your cereal bowl, stopping your spoon from reaching your mouth. Deciding to be courteous, you put it down instead of spilling milk on her hand. “Mrs. Price, ghost of the Castle.” She gives you a small smile like it’s a concession. You shake her hand firmly, noting callouses unusual of the prim and spoiled lawyers you’re used to. She doesn’t say anything, so you take a second to analyze her while she does the same.

Kate’s dressed in a sharp suit, pinstriped and tailored well. Blonde hair in a bun, with chic bangs on her forehead. What’s more intriguing is her accent. “You’re American?” She nods, sitting down at the table with you. There’s a stack of folders in her hands, laid carefully on the sleek table. “Dad’s British, old friend of Price’s father.” She lets you fill in the blanks, assuming she grew up in America with her mother. Every word of hers is thought out, leaning towards calculated but not quite. It’s silent for a moment as you continue eating your cereal, neither of you in much of a rush.

“Well, I’m quite flattered, but I’m assuming this isn’t a social call since the last time I saw you, you were negotiating this blooming marriage.” She nods, opening the first folder of her stack. It’s a…real estate report? She passes it your way and you note the pictures of various storefronts, mainly old retail stores. “Available Price businesses. Mainly purchased for tax reasons. This report details location, average foot traffic, measurements, etc. Questions?” The report is ten pages long, thick with ink and possibility.

“Is this for my…?” The thoroughness of the research impresses you. She takes out more stapled papers, detailing market value in the area and payment plans. “Bookstore? It took a bit to gather the paperwork, some of these places haven’t been looked at in a long time. I thought this might be more interesting than haunting the Castle.” Your hands nearly shake with excitement. You’ve been positively bored, nothing to do and no one to talk to. “Do you have somewhere to be after this?” You ask, almost timidly. She checks her watch, then shakes her head. “Not until lunch.” You grin. “Let’s talk.”

You talk for nearly two hours. Business plans, target market, the walking patterns of Londoners. She tells you more about the city than you could ever find online. She points out up-and-coming neighbors versus those slowing down. It’s refreshing to talk to a woman and not a man calling you nicknames and making your head spin. She’s smart and sharp, joking less than Gaz but greeting your own with rare smiles.

The two of you decide on a storefront on Carnaby Street, surrounded by boutiques and small businesses. It’s different from the vibe of your Manchester store, but a new challenge is all you need. You have enough money from the profits of your bookstore plus some your father left you, enough to buy the property in full from John. You have a feeling Laswell, as she’s asked you to call her, is underselling you, but you’re not going to blame her for saving you a few thousand. A few calls get made to respective bankers, and Laswell promises a contract and detailed payment plan by next week. 

“Laswell?” She tips her chin in acknowledgement as she packs up the folders. “Thank you for visiting. You’re welcome anytime, for lawyer stuff or not.” Laswell gives you a half-smile, then slips her business card onto the table. “Here’s my info, lawyer stuff or not.” She winks, then bids you goodbye using your first name. It’s a relief to be acknowledged. The whole interaction gets you out of your week-long funk, riling you up.

When’s she gone, you reach for your phone, calling one of your newest contacts. “Price.” You scoff at his greeting. “Jeez, not even a hello?” There’s a pause, like he took the phone away from his face then put it back. “Sorry, sweetheart, didn’t check the caller ID. You okay?” He hasn’t talked to you all week, so the petname’s a shot to the heart. “I think Laswell lowballed me, but I officially own one of your properties.” He chuckles, low and soft in your ear. Friends. Frenemies. Stay solid. “Tha’ righ’?” God, admitting this victory is like handing him your beating heart. “Yes.” It comes out stern and he stops laughing, mistaking your tone for anger. “Can’t promise dinner but I’ll be there ‘fore lights out, yeah?” The topic change throws you off. You nod, swallowing an embarrassing notion of asking about his dinner plans. “See you then. And, John?” He’s quiet, waiting on you. “I’m going into the city for dinner, taking a guard so don’t worry. Bye!” That leaves him sputtering, scales tipping towards balance again. “Wait, don’t-” Beep! He doesn’t get to finish the thought as you hang up.

You find a spare guard in the hallway, who tells you his name is Terrance. “Ma’am, I don’t think the Captain’ll be ok with this.” Another American. “Well, I’m leaving with or without you, Terrance. Let me know what you think he’ll be more okay with.” That gets him going, talking into his ear piece before moving to shadow you. You walk swiftly without direction, turning left down the street in search for a cab. Terrance clears his throat behind you. “Center of the city is the other way, ma’am. Let me call a driver, the cabs’ll cheat you.” You concede, the raging hunger in your stomach your main motivator. He probably wouldn’t have let you take a cab anyways, safety protocols and all that. You brush the small revolver in your purse for comfort and think of the small knife strapped to your upper calf. It’s not the best placement, but you’re overly cautious with your first venture into the city. You tap your foot impatiently as Terrance calls a driver. You didn’t eat lunch after meeting Laswell, too eager to explore.

After a short ride, Terrance sitting up front with the driver, you arrive to your destination: your new storefront. It’s a bit rundown but the street is busy even at this early dinner hour, a good sign for business. Huge glass windows frame either side, and you try to peak through to get a look inwards. It seems dusty but well kept, no signs of natural damage. A perfect clean slate.

Satisfied, you turn to look for a cafe, since the restaurants aren’t open just yet. Settling on a quaint one down the street, you order a sandwich and find a seat. It’s nice to spend time surrounded by others, lives flashing by yours in a flash as you sit by a window, picking at your food. You invite Terrance to sit with you twice but he refuses, content to stand near your seat at the window, eyes on both the inside and outside. You brought a notebook with you, so the hours fly by as you plan your bookstore. You force yourself to stay past dinner, only conceding to a ride back when Terrance looks dead on his feet and the cafe workers are clearly closing.

When you get home, John isn’t there.

Your veins go cold but you shake it off, reciting reasons why you shouldn’t care: just friends, childhood enemy, influenced the breakup of your family, forced you into a marriage, practical stranger. Then the other side of your brain responds: the honeymoon period, agreed to negotiations, doesn’t pressure you into sex, gifted you a library, holds you tight every morning, takes care of you when drunk. It’s a tie, like your cartoon devil and angel can’t even decide. Typical.

You decide on a long shower, shutting yourself away in the bathroom. Body scrubs, haircare routine, shaving, the works. The excitement of the day hits you and you smile to yourself, thoughts of your new bookstore drifting through your mind. Maybe you need some stress relief. Maybe you’ll give yourself what John won’t.

You drag a hand down your wet body, pinching your nipples. A scene from the library appears in your mind, the memory of being completely exposed under John’s view. How he brushed the lace of your underwear, testing the wetness of your folds. Your other hand starts to circle your clit, faster and faster as you imagine what would have happened had the clock not struck twelve. How he would have stuffed a finger, maybe two, into your hole, exploring the limits of your body. How he would’ve called you sweetheart in that rough voice. Your core tightens unreasonably fast, careening towards the edge of your orgasm when it just stops. You groan in frustration, then reach for the detachable showerhead. 

This time is rougher, torturing your poor cunt with harsh water pressure. You find yourself on the edge again, clenching with anticipation before it escapes you again. That’s enough of a sign that it’s not going to happen for you tonight. Defeated, you end your shower quickly, speeding through the rest of your night routine.

You exit the bathroom clothed in pajamas, sweating from exasperation and effort. Two failed orgasms is enough to break any woman’s heart. This thought is what keeps you from immediately realizing John’s sitting up in bed, reading glasses on, shirt off. It stops you in your tracks.

“Nice shower?” He asks, not looking up from the reports in his hands. You stutter, long enough for him to look up in confusion. “You good, sweetheart?” You shake your head, wiping your hands on your pajamas. “Sorry, lost my train of thought. Think the hot water fried some of my brain cells.” He chuckles, a sound that goes straight to your core. He looks so damn delicious, better than your shower fantasies. The glasses make him look like a frazzled professor instead of the head of a criminal organization. The fantasy is a bit broken by the Glock on his bedside table, but you shrug it off. You make your way to the bed, shutting off your bedside lamp as soon as you get in. His eyes bore a hole into the side of your head, like he can tell you tried getting off to the thought of him for half an hour and failed.

“Laswell tol’ me ‘bout your meetin’.” He says after a few minutes. You flip to face him, tugging the covers up to your chin. “I love her. She’s like who I want to be when I grow up.” Instead of reminding you that you are, indeed, grown up, he nods like he understands. You hate it. “She has tha’ effect. She’d make a mean school principal.” You laugh and he turns to hit you with the full force of his smile. “Like that lady from Matilda. But without the corporal punishment.” He nods. “Like a calm Trunchbull. Instead of yellin’, she’d jus’ stare.” You both laugh at the image, breaking the ice of his abandonment during the week. John turns out the light, disappointingly taking off his glasses and putting away his reports. You both get comfortable, facing opposite directions on your respective sides of the beds.

“‘M sorry for this week. Wasn’t real friend behavior.” Did he just apologize? You clear your throat, forcing yourself not to turn to face him. “It’s okay, I get it. I’ll be busy soon, too.” He’s quiet for a while. 

“I wish we had a longer honeymoon.” It physically hurts you to say. You quickly try to take it back. “You know, to spend in the library.” You mutter. “‘S ok, sweetheart. I would’ve liked more time too.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Right, well, goodnight, John.” What else can you say? I wish you’d stay longer in the mornings? I wish we had dinner together? I wish this was under different circumstances and our families weren’t entwined? “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Except sleep doesn’t take you. The memory of your shower is too recent, your core fluttering with the memory of your failed orgasms. You shift against the pillows, the scrape of the bedsheets torture against your skin. For a madness-induced second, you dip your hand down your pajamas, but you quickly pull it back when you remember John is a foot away. After fifteen minutes of squirming, he finally says something.

“You alrigh’?” You huff, still moving to get comfortable. “Sorry, I’m just hot.” He tugs the covers off you and towards him. “Can keep the covers off?” But now you’re shivering without their warmth. He moves closer to put them back, his face inches away as he tucks you in. “What’s wrong?” It’s low and sweet, like how he was on the phone. It makes you cave.

“I couldn’t get off.” He doesn’t react, like he was expecting you to say that. Which would be crazy. Right?

“Tha’ righ’?” You nod in the darkness, almost pouting in pain. “I tried in the shower and it didn’t work. Sorry, I can sleep in the sitting room if it makes you uncomfortable.” You feel him shaking his head, the whooshing of air surrounding the two of you. 

“You want help?” He can’t be serious. “You’re joking.” Instead of responding, his hand brushes your face, much closer than you originally thought. You inhale at the sudden rush of his scent, hips canting in the air in a biological response. He’s leaning over you, too out of reach.

“Christ, you’re gaggin’ fer it.” Your mouth drops, a perfect opportunity for him to brush the rounded O of your lips. He dips his middle finger into your mouth and, against your better judgement, you suck. “Look at tha’, so sweet fer me.” It’s encouragement to suck harder, rewarded with one of his groans. The moonlight catches the blue of his eyes, alight with hunger. You moan, and he evilly tugs his finger out of your mouth and into his own. Its a brutal show of spit swapping, leaving you panting. “John, please.” He gets the memo, sliding the finger under your pajama shorts. And then he just explores. Manipulates your folds this way and that, missing your clit by miles. 

“This a gyno exam that I didn’t-,” but he cuts you off with a rough kiss, his thumb pressing on your clit as he finally pushes a finger into your messy hole. It’s as possessive as your kiss at the wedding. He sucks on your top lip, then pulls away before you enjoy it too much. “So fuckin’ wet. This all fer me?” You nod desperately, hips moving to join the rhythm of his fingers. He finds your G-spot with ease, stroking you with a ‘come here’ motion as you rock against him. “Missed you, baby. Y’r cunny miss me?” And all you can do is plead, chests brushing against each other as he kisses his way down your neck, sloppy and unrestrained. “Yes, yes, missed you.” He grunts his approval.

His other hand moves to stablize his weight, forearm digging into the bed as his fingers curl around the crown of your head. Your hands find purchase in his hair, tugging him back to your lips when he gets too far. A second finger, his ring one, meets his middle. You haven’t sex in a while, the only explanation for how full you feel. 

“Gonna hav’ t’ work ya open ‘fore you take my cock.” He whispers like it’s a note for him to remember, not meant for your ears. “Someone’s, oh fuck,” he circles your clit harder, tightening the coil in your belly. “Someone’s confident.” Is what you finally bite out, panting hard. He chuckles, nosing at your neck before kissing you again on the lips. “You opposed t’ future orgasms, baby?” You shake your head, babbling nonsense as he fucks you deeper on his fingers. Your cunt is begging for release, squeezing so hard you can’t breathe.

“Gonna come.” He nods, licking the sweat behind your ear before nipping at your jaw. “Let it out, sweetheart,” and you do, spasming on his fingers. He works you through it, slowing his motions with practiced ease. You breathe a sigh of relief, the tension in your body having disappeared. John captures your lips, allowing you to tug him closer so he’s inbetween your legs. You rub your sweat-soaked body against his, whimpering at the sensitivity of your skin. He shushes you, petting you with hairy paws as your breathing calms. “What a good girl fer me.” He whispers, almost condescendingly. You mewl at his tone, cat-like in his arms.

“I hate you.” You lie. All he does is kiss your forehead, then your nose. “Sure ya do, sweetheart. Feel better?” It turns you to butter. All you can do is nod, bashful at his tone. “Maybe.” He kisses your cheek, then rolls to the side, tugging you into him. “Sleep.” He commands.

It’s the best sleep you’ve gotten all week.

-

This is John’s mansion: https://search.savills.com/property-detail/gbsshsslh240021

Disclaimer that i have no clue how to write the differences between Gaz and Price’s accents so your patience and possible suggestions are much appreciated. 

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[felix-lupin]

[VD: A tiktok by pearlmania500; they start by saying "I need you to stop right now, and I need you to watch this." The video cuts to a tweet by Aaron Rupar (@ atrupar) reading "Um" with a video attached of a CNN news feed of Elon Musk at Donald Trump's inauguration. Elon says "And I just want to say thank you, for making it happen. Thank you," before slapping his chest with an audible sound and then throwing his hand in the air in a Nazi Salute.

Back to pearlmania500, they say:

"The first step is they're gonna tell you that what you saw, you didn't see. And if you saw it, and you think you saw it, you actually saw something else, and actually it should be interpreted differently, but really it was just a joke or in the moment or all these different things; eventually, they'll tell you it's AI; eventually, they'll just bury the clip.

They're open about it. We went through this last time. They're gonna be open about it now; they spent four years denying that this is who they are.

That is the richest man in the world. Whacked out on his mind on God knows what, standing in front of tens of thousands of people, in front of hundreds— hundreds of cameras, from all these different news agencies around the world being live broadcast, and he knew that and he still did that. He slapped his chest so hard you could hear it.

And now that man has an office inside The White House complex, and he's running a committee called DOGE. Which is just a joke of an acronym, because he's really there just to make sure that his investment does what he really wants.

So congratulations to Vice President Trump today. I'm glad that our real president actually told us which party is truly in power today."

End VD.]

Elon Musk's N*zi Salute at the Trump Inauguration Rally. The US government will attempt to censor this or shift your perception of it.

You Saw, What You Saw.

[snoopychris]

chatterbox

in which... nerd!matt gets drunk for the first time.

you so desperately wished you could have a drink right now. even just a single white claw. oh the downside of being the designated driver. the music around you is blasting louder than you anticipated, people keep bumping into you like you’re invisible, and you feel like your friends are all having more fun than you.  all negatives of being sober. oh well. at least you still had matt… well he was somewhere around here.

you’re mid conversation with somebody when nate grabs onto your shoulder, pulling you from every other thought. his eyes are full of fear and he’s shaking as if he’s scared of you. you swallow in fear, worried about his next words. “nathan…” you whisper, only being met with mumbles. you finally get him to speak up, groaning when he reveals his big secret. 

“i only did two shots with him i didn’t know he’d get like this! how was i supposed to know?” he questions, leading you towards matt in the kitchen. luckily, he’s not alone. chris is gripping onto his wrists making sure he’s able to stay upright. you giggle slightly at the sight, making your way over to your intoxicated boyfriend. his glasses are sitting in his pocket, a sight that’s rare to see. his eyes are wide and his face is red. he is completely out of it. 

“oh my god, sweetie hi.” he mumbles, gripping onto your hand and tugging you close. his breath doesn’t smell too much like alcohol, but you know the two shots he had must be more than he’s used to. you grab onto his shoulders in place of chris, groaning when he and nate sneak away back to the party. your boyfriend, your responsibility.

“hey nerd. y’feeling okay? what’d you have?” you whisper, helping him keep his standing position. matt shrugs as he looks around the counter, picking up a bottle of everclear and handing it to you. your face churns in disgust. there’s no way he willingly drank this stuff. you chuckle as you drag him away from the kitchen, making your way to your car. one of the only perks is that you can make an irish goodbye whenever. the parties at nate’s house anyway. chris can spend the night if he needs to. 

matt stumbles his way out with you, taking a seat in the passengers side. he lays his head backwards on the headrest, squeezing his eyes shut. he pouts his lip like a toddler being pulled out of a toy store. “where are we goin” he pouts, his lip still out. you shrug as you begin driving, making sure to roll the window down to help him sober up. 

“i dunno… can’t believe you’re drunk off two shots of everclear… well like i can but. jesus.” you smile, gripping onto his hand. he squeezes back gently, but he thinks he’s being really aggressive. he mumbles out an apology, earning a head shake from you. the only place you can manage to drive is the beach. his beach. the same beach he would always go when he felt alone. the same beach you went to before you were dating. his face brightens at the sight and he manages to make his way out of the car. 

it’s snowing out- just barely though. just enough for the snow to be visible to the naked eye but not enough to stick to the floor. you follow close after him, wrapping your leather jacket around your torso. he runs towards the sand, sitting down on a random spot. he winces when it’s colder than he expects, the temperature only enhanced by his drunken state. you stand in front of him, dropping to your knees. he almost gets excited but he knows you wouldn’t. instead, he just cups your face with one of his palms. 

“you’re so beautiful… hey do you ever think about how maybe my favorite pokémon is somebody’s least favorite? or how some pokémon don’t have like annnyyyy merchandise made for them because they’re just not profitable. it makes me so sad for those guys. like not everybody can be pikachu you know? and sweetie oh my god don’t even get me started on the merch that nintendo makes because… it’s crazy!” he begins to mumble on when it all sort of clicks for you. matthew sturniolo is a talkative drunk. not a quiet one like chris. not an impulsive one like nick. not a cuddly one like you. talkative. you nod at his words, almost as if you’re asking for more. against all odds, matt looks straight into your eyes and smiles. 

“well cause like… they market off everything cute right? they’re targeting cutie patooties like you with all the animal crossing stuff.” he states, touching your nose with his fingertip when he speaks. you scrunch your face at the feeling, snowflakes gathering on the top of your head. “you are so cute. like i can’t wait for you to move out to california with me.” he mumbles. your face drops slightly at his words but you shrug it off. it’s the alcohol talking. you purse your lips, waiting for more drunk babbles from your boyfriend. “oh my god right so the nintendo marketing scheme-”

a/n: welcome back, nerd!matt. im so scared of myself with this au sometimes chat. like i get to my computer and im like oooo todays the day and then i cant bring myself to do it.

tags: @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @yuppocarzy @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @ayesha-eroticaa @bluessturniolo @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @emely9274 @princessesgarden @marrykisskilled @cykss @oopsiedaisydeer @13hoax @jetaimevous @allylovescody @urfavvt4ylor

[frogsandfries]

I think I was in like, fourth grade when I first learned there was a group of people called Jews, and that even though most of them look white, like me and about 75% of my peers at the time, they're "other".

I've never, ever been religious, even growing up in a moderately religious family.

Maybe this is where my confusion comes in about why I, a white person, should hate another white person for their religion. Or maybe I'm focusing too hard on the religion thing. After all, in this age of leaving religion behind us, people are Jewish in a way that people are not Christian. Being Jewish is also like being Navajo or being Celt.

My entire childhood, it was hammered into me "don't stare at people just because they look different from you; be kind to everyone; treat everyone in a way you would want to be treated".

My parents are, obviously, older than me. They are chronologically closer to the socio-political upheaval that WWII unquestionably caused. My maternal grandfather could have been in WWII, but I'm not positive about his service record. I guess I've never thought to ask my dad why they didn't teach me about Jews or like, make some kind of point about it. Too little, too late. They didn't make a big deal about how groups of people who look white, like the Romani, the Irish, and the Jewish, are "not white" and why people shun them.

Now, maybe we're getting into the part where, I'm undiagnosed but unquestionably autistic. I still don't understand why black people were chosen to be othered and then traded like livestock. I still don't understand why Catholics and Christians seem to have gotten together and been like "those believers in an Abrahamic god, they're bad and other and we should spend generations upon generations othering and shunning and excluding them."

Honestly, I think there's a lot of nuance about neurotypical humanity that I'll probably never grasp, because when I look at humans with dark skin, I see the usefulness of their dark skin to help them survive the places where their dark skin evolved. When I see humans with pale skin, I see the usefulness of their pale skin to help them survive. When I see humans with epicanthic folds, I see the usefulness of that trait too. All I see in humanity are the ways that we have evolved to live all over this planet, in the mountains, on islands, near volcanos, in wet places, in dry places, in cold places and hot places.

I just can't get over how beautiful the vast variety of humanity is, to get to a place of hate.

I'm not sure there will ever be a sufficient explanation for me to fully grasp why Jews are other and why I should want them eliminated. The Jewish people have also made it for hundreds of generations over thousands of years. At the very, very least, they're as suited to this planet as any Brit or Celt or Navajo or any other group. At the very least, they bring something genetically unique and useful to the human species. They also have their own culture and stories and art and ways of dress. They have their own language and ways of existing in the world, and I think maybe that's blinding me to what seem flimsy and pathetic excuses to cling onto outdated ways of being.

We might share a common ancestor with chimps, but we are not chimpanzees. We have sophisticated language. But instead of using it to appreciate each other and appreciate that we've made it millions of years of evolution to reach this point, we use our sophisticated language skills to hate and hurt, to develop weapons and to use those weapons against each other.

And somehow, this is okay with way too many people???????

“Elon didn’t mean to sieg heil, he’s just autistic”

Do you guys remember when Kanye said he was gonna go “death con” on all the Jews? Do you remember how his apologists said he was just off his bipolar meds? Do you remember that he doubled down, said he didn’t actually have bipolar, and he had been misdiagnosed by a Jew doctor? Do you remember he proceeded to meet with prominent white supremacists and told infowars he was a Nazi who loved Hitler?

Nobody ever believes the Jews the first time, even though our culture has spent literally thousands of years learning the warning signs. We know what we’re looking at. It’s two consecutive Nazi salutes on a white supremacist’s inauguration day. You can downplay it all you want, but this coal mine’s canary isn’t coming back to life.

[eatfishies]

your touch sets me ablaze | 🔞

summary: Rafayel is determined to make all your worries go away.

or

Rafayel giving his "Miss Bodyguard" the time of her life.

word count: 3.5k words tags: NSFW, rafayel x reader (afab), porn without plot, oral sex (cunnilingus), clit play, swearing, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, squirting and vaginal ejaculation, exhibitionism, overstimulation, public sex (or semi..? idk), pet names, breeding kink, creampie, established relationship fish notes: rafa fingers owo .. that’s it . i jus have an obsession w his pretty fingers ok . hehe hope all of u enjoy <3 ── ao3 link ★ ˙ ̟ | my twt !

The long-awaited day of Rafayel’s exhibition is finally here. She smoothed out her dress, ensuring that there is no speck of dust or any creases. The dress hugged her curves like second skin, a dark blue shade that matches the ocean — she heard it faintly as she fixed herself on the mirror. The tidal waves swished around with fluidity as the birds chirped merrily, giving her a sense of peace despite the gnawing anxiety bubbling up inside her. She sighed, biting her lip as she mulled over her thoughts when the door opened, revealing Rafayel. 

Dressed in a white buttoned shirt, paired with a dark blue suit jacket and black tailored slacks. He looked mesmerizing as he always does whenever she sees him. Many people claim that Rafayel’s paintings are beautiful, each brushstroke has its own story and together, mixed with the soft colors is enough to draw someone in. It was easy to get lost in his artworks hence why his buyers are eager to get their hands on the latest pieces of his art. Every art dealer was entranced by the beauty of it. One could say, if you gaze at his painting, the sight of it could linger in your mind even as you slumber, dancing around and luring you into the depths of the ocean.

He smiled at her, his eyes roaming over her figure appreciatively, “Hey cutie, looking good there.” He walked towards her, placing his hands on her hips, “Why the long face…? It’s my exhibition, not yours.” She knows he was just teasing, trying to quell her dwelling thoughts but she can only give him a faint smile.

“I know that… I just…” She sighed, unsure of how to properly form her sentence. Her mind is constantly racing, overlapping each fleeting thought. “I’ve just been… overthinking about all sorts of things, I suppose. Maybe it’s just the stress of everything…” She trailed off, her gaze drifting to the side.

The Lemurian hummed, studying his lover’s face with deep concentration, “Well, we still have some time left to kill. Do you wanna do something to take your mind off things?” His hands cupped her face gently, making her stare at his handsome face. 

“Uh… I’m not sure.” She responded, still preoccupied with her troubles. 

Rafayel’s hands fall to the side before grabbing her wrist and leading her out of the bedroom and into the center of the studio. He gently pushed her down to the couch, “Stay here.” He said before stalking off to grab something from the desk. She could only watch with curiosity, wondering what Rafayel had planned to distract her. 

When he came back, he was holding a box of Pile It Up. She couldn’t help but smile, already feeling a surge of competitive spirit bubbling inside her. “Oh, you’re so on!” She grinned at him.

And yet, after a few minutes of playing, she felt the same thoughts resurfacing. Rafayel didn’t need to be told twice to know that his partner is deep in her worries, he could see the frown etched on her features or the way she subtly tapped her fingers repeatedly against the block. 

He sighed, standing up and taking a seat next to her, “I hate seeing you like this.” He paused, searching her face before caressing her cheek tenderly, “We don’t need to talk about it but I wished I could take all your troubles away. It makes me sad to see you look so blue.” 

A small hint of guilt crept up, she forced herself to hold Rafayel’s gaze. “I’ll be fine, really. Just… stress, the usual.” She spoke tiredly, relishing the feeling of his hand on her cheek. 

Suddenly, an idea popped up inside the painter’s head. “Then… let me put your mind at ease, yeah?” But before she could inquire, the Lemurian pulled her into a soft kiss, effectively drowning out any single thought she had previously. Their lips moved languidly in a passionate yet loving kiss. His hands slid down to feel her curves, swallowing her needy whimpers as his fingers hiked the hem of the dress up, exposing more of her skin. 

He gently laid her down and pulled away, hovering above her, admiring the way her lips are now swollen and glistened with his saliva. No doubt that the lipstick has smeared onto his mouth as well but he couldn’t care less, slowly inching closer to her most intimate place. She bit her lip, growing impatient at his deliberate and sensual movements but the words of protest died in her throat when Rafayel finally touched her clit, feeling the wet patch growing as he kept stroking her.

“You’re already so wet for me… you sure are eager, aren’t you?” He smirked as she gripped his arms and bucked her hips. “Come on, let me hear your pretty sounds, cutie.” He purred, effortlessly pulling her panties to the side and rubbing her slick folds. A string of moans and whimpers fell from her lips as Rafayel continued to touch her, staring intently as her expressions contorted to one of pleasure. The worry lines on her face, the frown and the anxiousness emitting off of her earlier are all gone, replaced by fervent lust and desire. 

With a swift motion, Rafayel plunged two fingers deep inside her wet pussy. Her velvet walls clamping down tightly as he curled his digits, “Ha…! F- fuck! Raf…” She moaned out, it was the sound that he could never get tired of hearing. Her body writhed beneath her lover’s skilful ministrations. 

“That’s it… keep feeling good around my fingers. You’re doing so well for me, baby.” He uttered sultry and low, pressing kisses on her neck before biting onto the flesh. He knew that once she was clear-headed, she would scold him for leaving a mark, especially when they were both due to attend his exhibition later. But Rafayel couldn’t care less, he was addicted to her scent, her taste, her sounds and everything about her makes him want to lose himself completely, surrendering himself to the woman he holds dear to. 

The heat in her stomach coiled, the tell-tale signs of her climax approaching her as Rafayel fingers her faster and deeper, noticing the pitch of her moans getting louder. Her wet cunt squelched obscenely around his long digits as he worked to bring her close to her release. He licked her earlobe and nipped at it, “Be a good girl and come all over my fingers. Come on, you can do it, can’t you?” 

Spurred by Rafayel’s encouragement, she squeezed her eyes shut as her pussy clenched tightly around his plunging fingers. “I’m… I’m close! I’m gonna come!” She cried out, her cunt clamping down on his digits as she came hard, pussy juice gushing out and all over his hand and wrist. 

“Good girl. You did so great, my little conch.” He pulled his soaked fingers out and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Rafayel felt a swell of pride at seeing the state of his lover like this, she’s no longer concerned with troubling thoughts or anxieties. Only a look of pure bliss. 

He brought his fingers up to his mouth and licked them clean, savoring the taste of her. “You taste divine, my love.” A blush spread through her cheeks as she stared at the sight of Rafayel delightfully tasting her essence. 

“But… I’m not done yet. Not even close.” His voice drops an octave lower as he spread her legs wide and tugged her damp panties off, tossing them on the floor. Her cunt fluttered around nothing, dripping with slick from her orgasm earlier. “I can’t wait to devour you.” And with that, he leaned in and lapped her pussy tentatively, keeping his gaze fixed on her face as her fingers tangled in his purple hair, gripping it. 

Debauched cries and moans bounced off the walls along with the erotic sounds of Rafayel eating her cunt out with vigor, like a man starved. “F- feels so good!” She whimpered as the Lemurian held her thighs, spreading them wider, giving him more access to her sopping core. 

Unable to resist, Rafayel delved in deeper, sealing his lips around her clit and suckling the sensitive nub. He flicked his tongue faster, determined to bring his dear bodyguard to her peak once more. The needy sounds spilling from her lips were like music to his ears, urging him on, to give her the pleasure that she so desperately sought. 

“D- don’t stop, Raf! Please!” Her hips bucked wantonly as she ground her slick cunt against his mouth. Rafayel smirked in response, letting her tug on his hair fiercely as he thrust his tongue deep inside her clutching heat, fucking her with his mouth, feeling incredibly turned on and eager to watch her fall apart beneath him. 

He could feel her juices flooding his mouth, could taste her arousal coating his tongue. Rafayel could go on for days burying his head in between her legs, couldn’t ever get enough of her sweet essence. “Come for me. Come on my tongue like the good girl that you are.” He spurred, the words vibrating against her sensitive flesh. 

The all-too familiar sensation coursed through her body as she moaned out, “I’m gonna come! Raf, I’m gonna come!” At that, Rafayel vigorously sucked hard on her clit, feeling her walls starting to flutter and clench around his plunging tongue. He could feel the heat of her core climbing, threatening to spill once more. The Lemurian easily slipped in two fingers, knuckle-deep into her dripping cunt. He pumped them in and out, curling them just so to hit that spot that made his lover writhe in utter bliss. 

It was too much, the stimulation was overbearing as her body tensed, her thighs clamped around his head as she teetered on the brink. Rafayel gripped her hips tighter, holding her in place as he ate them out with wild, desperate abandon. 

“Rafayel!” She cried out, arching off of the couch as her orgasm crashed over her for the second time. The painter moaned as he felt the flood of arousal coating his tongue and chin, lapping it up greedily as she shuddered and quaked beneath him. He could feel the way her walls gripped his fingers, sucking in and reluctant to let go, milking his hand for all it was worth. 

“P- please… too much…” She whined, riding out the intense wave of her climax. Rafayel gave her dripping wet pussy one last lick before pulling back slightly to catch his breath. “I could just drown in your taste for the rest of my life.” He spoke breathlessly, slowly withdrawing his fingers and bringing them up to his mouth to lick them clean, just like he did earlier.  

Just as Rafayel was about to lean down and kiss her, the unmistakable sound of his ringtone snapped both of their attention. Rafayel stared down at her, a look of surprise on his face, “Let me get it.” He stood up and walked over to the desk, grabbing his phone. Frowning, he reads the message and pockets it away, looking back at her with a sigh. “It’s Thomas. Says we need to be at the exhibition in 20 minutes.” 

A small part of her felt disappointed at the fact that they would need to go out soon but she wasn’t just the only one whos’ feeling it. Rafayel gazed at her with a slight pout, he had hoped to fuck her silly before they were called to the gallery. But alas, duties calls and if they stalled any longer, Thomas would suspect something was up, even though Rafayel is known for arriving late to his exhibitions or not even appearing at all. 

“Should we just ditch this and not go?” He said exasperatedly, crossing his arms in annoyance. She smiled softly at him, sitting up straight and pulling her dress down, still panty-less underneath. She could feel her own slick running down her inner thighs, a faint blush spread through her cheeks as she briefly recalled the way Rafayel had brought her to climax twice. 

However, her gaze lowered to the sight of Rafayel’s painfully hard and obvious bulge, straining against his pants. Biting her lips, she quickly squashed down any lewd thoughts, refraining from losing her focus by daydreaming about sinking her tight wet cavern onto Rafayel’s thick cock. No, she needs to get it together and actually drag her Lemurian lover to the gallery, lest they face the wrath of Thomas. 

With a reluctant smile, she stood up and bent down to pick up her panties, slipping them on. “I guess it’s time to go. Come on, you pouty baby.” She pinched his cheek, earning a glare from her lover but it lacked no malice, instead filled with tenderness and love. Rafayel sighed dramatically, intertwining their fingers together, “Fine, fiiiiinee.” 

As they began to walk towards the front door, she paused, “Ah wait, I need to grab something.” But Rafayel wouldn’t budge, clasping her hand tightly as he stared ahead. He leaned in and whispered hotly in her ears, “Just keep your panties on. Don’t think this is over just because we’re going somewhere.” Heat rises up to her cheeks at the suggestive implication, was Rafayel planning something? It was a risky move, she knew she should go and grab the short pants to wear beneath her dress but Rafayel only gripped his hold on her, sensing the slight confusion. “Trust me, cutie. I know a way to make the exhibition waaaay more entertaining.” 

Alas, she gave in and nodded, “No funny stuff, alright!” She warned but Rafayel only smiled cheekily at her in response. “I’ll be a good boy and behave, dontcha’ worry, my darling.” He gave her a wink, a silent promise to be on his best behavior, yet there’s a hint of mischief in his eyes.

‧───────────────‧

The gallery was filled and buzzing with prestigious art dealers and other VIP guests, mingling around and admiring the exquisite artworks that were displayed on the walls. She stood to the side, a glass of champagne in her hand as she glanced at Rafayel who is, no doubt, forced to converse with the guests by Thomas. She hummed, taking in the scene before her, it was clear that Rafayel has always been popular but to witness it entirely was a different feeling. It warms her heart knowing that Rafayel is loved and cherished by many people here – a respected artist in his own field, earning awe-struck stares and quiet excited cheers. 

She took a sip of her drink, enjoying her solitude when Rafayel sauntered over to her. “How is my princess doing?” He smirked, standing next to her, his gaze briefly flickering down to the hem of her dress. She could tell a thing or two about what he’s thinking, all of the thoughts are most likely inappropriate. “I’m doing okay.” She replied casually, “Shouldn’t you be talking to your esteemed guests? Wouldn’t want Thomas to come hurling complaints again, hm?” 

At the mention of Thomas’s complaints, Rafayel grimaced and looked away, “Puh-lease, I’m his boss here, not him. He can’t control me, no matter how much he wants to.” His hand found their way on her hips, pulling her close. “Besides, I’m bored. Let’s go somewhere private, yeah?” Before she could voice out her objections, Rafayel immediately dragged her to the quieter, lonely 

 side of the gallery. There were no artworks framed on the walls nor are there any people here to disturb the couple. “Raf honey… are you sure we're allowed here? Isn’t this section of the gallery closed off?” Her voice tinged with uncertainty and maybe a little bit of unease at the blank and empty part of the gallery. 

“It’s fine, no one ever comes home.” He reassured her, letting go of his hand and cupping her face, “Now, it’s just the two of us here.” Rafayel captured her lips in a searing kiss, pouring all of his pent-up desire from before into it. She could taste the remnants of her pussy juice, rendering her completely into a puddle of mess as Rafayel’s fingers trailed down and slipped underneath her dress with ease. She whimpered against his lips as Rafayel rubbed her clit through her damp panties, soaked from the pleasure she received back in the comfort of his home. 

“R- raf… ah! Mhmm… we- we can’t” She murmured helplessly as Rafayel began to nip at her neck, licking the hickey he left there. It had bloomed beautifully, his mark on hers – a sign to everyone that she was his. Only his. 

Of course, she hadn’t been a fool, she did try to cover up the hickey before they stepped into the exhibition but Rafayel wouldn’t stop pestering her and telling her to just leave it be. In the end, she caved in and proudly showed off the mark, albeit with much reluctance and embarrassment. Rafayel rasped, “Need you… need you here, right now.” 

Swiftly, Rafayel tugged her panties aside and unzipped his pants, freeing his throbbing cock from the confines of his pants. He pressed her against the wall, her back facing him, “N- now?!” She sputtered but Rafayel was already stroking his aching shaft on her sopping wet mound. 

He lined himself up, the broad head of his cock nudging insistently at her entrance. Rafayel wanted nothing more than to slam inside, to consume her entirely, his body blazing with need but he knew she was still sensitive from the overstimulation. “Keep quiet, okay?” He whispered hotly before thrusting deep inside her slick walls, burying himself to the hilt, feeling it tighten. 

“You feel so fucking good.” He gripped her hips, staring intently at his lover, biting her lips to stifle the moans and cries of pleasure. Without wasting any time, Rafayel set a brutal pace, hips snapping forward as he fucked into her dripping cunt with deep, powerful strokes. Anyone could walk in on them, going at it like rabbits in heat but all caution and care was thrown out of the window. Rafayel could only feel her wet, clasping heat, determined to bring her to the edge and make her feel good. There was no denying the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, if a guard were to catch them, they would no doubt be in trouble.

Then again, the risk is what makes it exciting. Rafayel groaned softly, nuzzling into her neck as she held back her cries of ecstasy, the familiar coppery tang of her blood sinking into her tongue from biting her lips too hard. Rafayel’s hands slid up to cup and knead her breasts through her dress as he pounded into her. The sensation was too much, her brain was all mushy as her pussy fluttered around him, sucking him in deeper, wanting more. 

Her hands pathetically scrambled to hold onto the wall, squeezing her eyes shut as she desperately tries to not let a single sound fall off of her lips. Rafayel’s voice was low, “You're clenching me so tightly baby. Ha… what a dirty girl, taking my cock like this out in the open. You love this, don’t you?” 

A whimper escaped from her throat as Rafayel slammed his hips forward fast and deep into her dripping, clinging heat. He noticed the way her breath quickened, her face etched in a fucked-out expression, losing herself to the overwhelming pleasure. Her pussy clenching around him, velvet walls fluttering wildly as he drove her closer to the edge. 

Rafayel withdrew from fondling her breasts and gripped her face, turning her towards him as his lips met hers in a messy, desperate kiss, all tongue and teeth as he fucked her towards her release. “Come for me, you can do it. Come one more time for me on my cock.” He murmured against her lips, feeling his orgasm nearing.

He felt her body stiffened, coming undone as he drowned out all her cries with a wet, sensual kiss. Rafayel grunted, his hips stuttering and with one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside her soaked cunt. His cock jerked and pulsed as he pumped her full with his seed. Rafayel pulled away and panted, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, a sheen of sweat trickling down from their coupling. He gazed at her with adoring eyes, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before he reluctantly pulled out of her cum-filled cunt. Rafayel tugged the panties to the center of her clit, covering her as she caught her breath. 

Wordlessly, Rafayel scooped her into his arms around her, letting her rest her head against his chest. Her eyes shut closed, her mind dancing around cloud nine from the intensity of it all.  

“Let’s go home, my love.” He said softly as he made his way towards the exit, ignoring the curious stares and ogles from the people in the exhibition. When Thomas tried to question him, Rafayel dismissed him and continued to walk to his car, gently putting her down onto the passenger seat.

Once they were home, Rafayel put on a bath and scrubbed her clean with much affection. Afterwards, he prepared dinner and cuddled her, staring down at her peaceful expression as she slumber. 

“I love you, my treasure.” He spoke quietly, kissing her forehead before falling asleep with his lover in his arms. 

[ttjisung]

BABY l. jeno

camboy!lee jeno x fem!reader

in which jeno finds it easier to destress himself on stream, that is until you catch him

cw: MDNI! smut, unprotected sex, cumming inside, fingering, squirting, another haechan feature cause i want him lowkey, generally inappropriate things lol idk how else to describe it! this wasn't proof read so beware of spelling mistakes (wc: 3k)

If you were to be asked, you’d confidently describe your relationship with Lee Jeno as trustworthy – loyal, even. Yet the truth was that Jeno had a secret he had been keeping for years now, one so outlandish it sounds straight out of a girl’s wet dream. It wasn’t that he thought you’d judge him, he just worried you’d ask him the origins of his secret, and he’d have to explain that it became his channel to take out some stress because of you.

Jeno’s secret was simple and straightforward – for the past year or two, he’d hide out at his apartment every weekend alone, turning on his web-camera and becoming a new identity. He hated calling himself a camboy, seeing it as an impeachment on his own self. Camboy felt too official, he was just a horny young adult looking for a way to let it out. That being said, what complicated the situation was that you were the cause of his need to do so. All of the times you’d compliment him after he’d send a workout selfie, so oblivious to the gym roleplay he’d act out later on, wishing his hand was you in tight shorts and a sports bra. Even something so innocent as saying his hair was cute had him thrusting into his palm and pulling on his own hair in the late hours, acting like it was you in front of him, instead of the hundreds of nameless accounts that would flood his chat. 

Jeno swore he’d get away with his little double-life, knowing you’d be caught in a grave before HotLonelyStuds. That’s why his own world came crashing down on himself during a hangout, when Lee Haechan approached him privately, an evil grin on his obnoxious face. “I have a confession.” The way he stated it seemed genuine, yet the way his eyes glinted towards the older male let him know his intentions were anything but. 

“Go ahead.” “Head? I’m sure that’s what you want, Dr. Lee.” Jeno’s heart dropped at the implication behind the sentence, way too specific to pass as a normal sexual innuendo. It was only when Haechan opened his phone up to his Twitter likes, already flooded with several homemade pornos, pointing out the most recent. Jeno wasn’t even aware that people were reuploading his clips – he swore it was a privacy breach, not allowed on the website he used. He recognized the specific stream, a night where he felt particularly needy. You had told him about a physical you received at your latest doctors’ appointment, and his fantasies ran wild. Admittedly, it wasn’t normal to feel so horny because of something so simple, yet as soon as he imagined himself on top of you, stripping you slowly on a patient’s bed, there was no going back. Albeit weird, he swore there was nothing special about the clip until Haechan clicked on it, of course he did. 

“Fuck… Need you so bad, baby. Let Dr. Lee take care of you.” Jeno’s voice was hoarse, ringing from above as his camera panned down to his cock that was already out of his white dress pants and leaking in his hand. He flicked his wrist gently, agonizingly slow, taking his time and imagining it was your small, delicate hand instead. In his daze, his thumb unconsciously ran over his tip, forcing a gasp out of his throat, alongside an uncontrolled small whisper of your name. The whisper was so light, it could easily be played off as an incoherent moan to anyone else, yet Haechan (who swore up and down that Jeno was in love with you) begged to differ.

“Why did you even watch all of it to find that out, perv.” Jeno’s first response was defense, trying to play it off and even pass the shame onto Haechan. What he should’ve taken into account was that if there was one word to describe the male, it’d be shameless. “Eh, ‘was bored. What matters here is you, Dr. Lee, and your infatuation with a little someone-” 

“Who?” You spoke up behind the two, frowning at the way Haechan jumped up and immediately turned his phone off. “Hey, I wanna see.” You whined, saddened at the fact that you were out of the loop. “It was porn.” Haechan was quick to yell out, patting Jeno on the back and rushing back into the living room. 

“Were you actually watching that stuff, Jen? I don’t care but like… You told me you don’t.” The disdain in your voice assured Jeno about one thing – you could never know the truth. Not only would it freak you out, he felt as though you’d be offended that he’s been lying to you about how truly sexual he is. Being the only two of your friend group that didn’t continuously sleep around, you felt even more connected with him when he’d back you up, telling you it’s normal to be reserved at your age; making you think he relates, when the truth was that as soon as you’d go home and his lights would turn off, his camera would turn on. 

“No, of course not baby. He was just being weird.” The way the familiar nickname rolled out of his mouth smoothly assured you, and you simply nodded with a small grin. “What were you up to before Hyuck flashed you?” You giggled at your own word choice, moving away from Jeno to open the fridge. “Not much, ‘was honestly waiting for you to realize I was gone and look for me.” For some reason, an unusual feeling of unease washed over him at your reaction to his words. You took it lightly, like you take everything. No matter how shamelessly he’d flirt with you, you’d always just smile and look away until the conversation would stray elsewhere. He was sick of acting like it didn’t affect him to see you dismiss him so easily, yet he supposed it was partly his fault, as he never clarified that he meant what he said – you probably just assumed he didn’t. 

“Wanna escape to my place? I’m honestly a bit bored.” Jeno wasn’t bored, he just wanted you all to himself, truthfully. “Sorry, Jen. I have a paper due tomorrow and I’m only halfway done. I was about to head out. Maybe another time?” He simply nodded, masking his disappointment with a shaky breath. Embarrassed from your reoccuring denial, he decided he’d go home anyway.  He had a new idea for a stream anyway, one that projected your relationship as loudly as the rest. It never hurts to do an extra video or two, knowing the pocket change he’d make could serve to take you out for a pastry. 

Tonight, the roles were reversed on HotLonelyStuds, as Jeno’s hand stroked himself quickly, moaning at the sensation. “Take it, fuck. Take it all. Rejecting me when you know you want me? Could’ve been us right now, baby.” His words were muffled, his teeth gritting in an unnaturally stressed way as his other hand reached his throat, pressing harshly. This stream was particularly rough, and although he’d refuse, Jeno knew the true reasoning behind his labored actions. He knew the truth was that he was sick of you ignoring him, when he was always there. Every time you’d complain about your lack of experience, every time you’d cry to him about feeling immature, he wanted to scream in your face that he’s right here! He always has been right there, pliant and willing to help you overcome your inexperience. 

The frustration built more and more, and before Jeno knew it he had come twice, painting his already covered abs white. On his third, he was too immersed to notice the familiar jingle of your spare key – the one he had given you as soon as he moved into his new apartment, letting you know you were welcome any time. 

Clearly, that might’ve not been the case as a loud gasp escaped you. Not bothering to knock on Jeno’s bedroom door, not even having heard his loud groans, you were welcomed with the sight of his heavy dick in his hands, upper body completely bare. Jeno’s eyes were held shut with pleasure until he recognized a stream of light on him that hadn’t been there before, the buzz of his hallway lamp amplifying the already-deafening silence that the two of you shared as you finally made eye contact. In shock, Jeno couldn’t bring himself to cover up. It wasn’t until you shrieked and ran out of the room that he pulled his pants back up, shutting the stream off with no explanation and running after you.

“Baby… I swear it’s not what you think-” “I know what I saw, Jen…” Your frown was making him panic, and he felt tears brimming in his eyes at your words. He was so fucked. “I just… Why didn’t you tell me? You know I don’t care-” “That’s the problem!” Sick of ignoring the obvious, he moved next to you, holding both your wrists in desperation. “You never care. Fuck, you don’t even care right now that you saw my dick out. Even less, that it was because of you.” His words sparked confusion in you, understanding what he was saying but refusing to believe what he insinuated. Surely, Lee Jeno hadn’t been fucking himself in front of a camera because of you. How would that even work?

“I don’t even care anymore, either, Y/n. Don’t care that you caught me, because maybe at least for those three seconds that you saw me, you might’ve had a small part of you in your head saying it’s hot.” “I don’t get it, Jen.” “Yes, you do.”

It wasn’t until you felt Jeno’s breath on your face that you realized how close he had truly gotten, and it was only when he grabbed your wrists that you realized, maybe it doesn’t feel so bad to be held by him like that.

Against your better judgement, your next action was brash as you cupped his face, pulling him in towards yours. The kiss was messy, Jeno’s teeth biting your lips until they began to feel sore. His arm snaked behind your back, lessening the space between you until there was nothing. “Gonna show you what I’ve been doing, baby. All for you.” “W-wait, Jen.” Before he could even push you onto the couch behind you, you pulled away. With every step you took, Jeno’s heart broke more, and his anger grew. Who were you to kiss him, and then reject him not even a minute later? 

In his fury, Jeno failed to realize what you were truly doing until your hand found his and you led him back to his room. His mind became foggy once he saw you approach his computer, searching for something. “Where is it, Jen?” “Where’s what, baby?” “The camera.” At your words, his eyes widened. There was no way you were really doing what he thought you were doing. There was no way you were going to let him fuck you in front of his viewers. 

Feeling as though the opportunity would pass at any second, Jeno jumped up quickly, gently pushing you aside to open the website and program the webcam to turn on. Soon after, the red flickering light on his computer confirmed the fact that it was on, and his hands were back on you, sliding down towards the back of your thighs and pulling you onto him. 

The kiss grew heavy once more, Jeno so focused that he didn’t even give context to his viewers who had never seen him with another girl before. Had he read the chat though, he’d be pleasantly surprised to see the positive feedback. Maybe he would’ve even seen Haechan’s texts that were flooding his phone. WTF? I TOLD YOU, YOU WHORE, that quickly progressed into encouragement, fuckk dude, lift her shirt up a bit, always wanted to see her pretty tits.

Unknowingly, Jeno fed into Haechan’s perversions as he also grew tired of the fabric holding you back from him. His big hands held onto your waist before lifting you up and turning you around, so you’d be sitting on his lap facing towards the camera instead of him. The light whimpers you’d let out at his every move gained traction from the chat, who were now spamming comments asking Jeno to fuck the shit out of you. Well, who was he to deny his fans?

You felt Jeno’s lips attach to your neck, as well as his long fingers slipping under your shirt, cupping your bare tits. He hated the fact that you never wore a bra near him, leaving little to his imagination when he wasn’t allowed to touch you. A shit-eating grin replaced his focused expression as he heard your breath hitch when he finally pinched your nipple, stopping for a second to effortlessly rip your shirt off over your head. Now exposed and riddled with goosebumps, Jeno sucked harder, leaving blemishes and marks all over your shoulder. His hands tweaked each nipple, pulling harder to draw more reactions from you.

This time, instead of a gasp, you simply grinded down on him out of instinct, the feeling finally pulling a moan from Jeno’s own throat. His chest still bare from when you had walked in on him earlier, pressed against your back as he held you close, pulling your little shorts off alongside your panties in one swift move. 

You were embarrassingly wet, hating yet loving the way Jeno stared at you through the screen of his own computer. He watched you with hunger in his eyes, as if he was going to devour you, and the worst part is that you began to like the idea. 

Your eyes shut close as you felt his fingers run down your slit, wetting them before he bullied two into you at once. You winced from the pain, not having time to recover before Jeno was thrusting in and out of you. His frustrations escaping him in the form of passion as his other hand planted gentle circles to your clit. Your cunt began to clench around him, a pit in your stomach forming as you let out moan after moan. It was only when he added another finger that you squirmed, the pit fully dropping. The shock on Jeno’s face was evident as a clear liquid covered both you and him once you came. Never in his life would he have expected you to squirt. He didn’t let out though, continuing to thrust his fingers in you until you fully rode out your high, clawing at his hands from the overstimulation.

Although he stopped, the breath you were catching got stuck in your throat once you felt something much larger than his fingers prodding at your cunt. He was big – honestly not a shock to you, who always heard him brag to the rest of your friends before he swore celibacy in solidation with you. Nothing could prepare you for the feeling of his tip pulsing in you, or his strong arms wrapping around you to hold your inner thighs, spreading you out to the camera, full pussy on display.

Hearing your gasps, Jeno stopped to let you adjust, yet it didn’t last long as you clenched around him. Albeit slower than he wanted to, he entered inch by inch until his cock was fully enveloped by your heat. You felt so good, how he knew you would. 

“‘Gonna move now, baby. Hold on to me.” You nodded although your eyes were painfully squeezing close. Jeno couldn’t take the slow pace as he thrusted in and out gently, and you granted his wish as you looked up towards his direction. “Y-you can move, Jen.” His moan was loud as he finally bottomed out, not nearly in as much control over his actions as he was before.

As soon as your pained whimpers shifted to soft gasps, he finally sped up, holding onto your thighs with a bruising grip. His moans were muffled as he whined into your neck. You felt every ridge and vein on his cock, stuffed deep inside of your cunt. Looking at the computer’s display, you felt yourself clench even more at the sight. With a clear view of Jeno’s face, the way he bit his lip and shut his eyes, you felt closer than ever. Jeno was close behind, not being able to take the tight squeeze you had around him anymore.

His pace fastened, thrusting up into you, pistoling in and out with desperation. “So good, fuck baby. You’re squeezing me so tight, ‘wanted this as bad as me?” Your fucked out face was evident as you simply nodded your head, eyes rolling up into your head. With one more hard thrust, you came once more, followed quickly by him. The feeling of his spent shooting inside of you fogged your mind up, and you had to clamp a hand to your mouth to silence yourself. 

Regaining his breath, he lifted you until his dick was fully out of you, laying you comfortably aside before standing up and approaching his laptop. Waving with a successful grin on his face, he shut the computer off. Putting on the nearest boxers on his bed, his next destination was the bathroom, where he gathered a warm wet towel to clean you up. 

You weren’t asleep per se, when he came back, yet your refusal to open your eyes accompanied by your lack of speech told Jeno that you were too exhausted to function, so he let you lay down. In truth, he always dreamed of spoiling you, taking care of you after fucking you to sleep. The only indicator that you were still awake was the small squeeze you gave his hand when he laid behind you, swelling his heart with several emotions. The moment was perfect, one that would forever be remembered in his head as heaven, until he picked his phone up to check the time. 

Can’t believe she squirted… screen recorded all that by the way dude, never thought I’d be so turned on watching you both lol

Jeno didn’t think twice before blocking Haechan’s contact, putting his phone down and cuddling back into you.

a/n: haiii guys i just realized i haven't made anything about jeno yet and ugh i was watching the poison track video he looks so goodddd that look is what i had in mind while making this i hope you guys enjoy :3

[softtdaisy]

a better father / Aaron Hotchner

summary. All Hotch wanted was to get a second chance to be a better dad. And now that you were offering him this chance, he fears he might have failed already.

words count. 2,465

a/n.  I got this idea with the episode from season two when Haley comes and she tells Hotch that he forgot about an appointment for Jack and I was like omg I need to do something with that so here's sad Aaron again

Being an FBI agent and a dad was sometimes hard to combine. Hotch knew something about that. 

He had a lot of regrets about Jack. Not being there much when he was a baby, not seeing his first steps, hearing his first word, and missing so many memories that were nicely caught on camera by Haley. Things he could never make up for.

And no matter how often Jack could tell him that he didn’t hold any grudge against his dad, Hotch still felt bad most of the time. Wishing he could get a second chance to be a better dad. 

At some point, he accepted that it would never happen. He was getting older, and the morality wanted him to date women close to his age. Which wasn’t a bad thing at all. He had wonderful dates with them. But none of them wanted to have a child. Some already had one, some never wanted to get pregnant, and some simply couldn’t. And of course it was never a cause of a breakup—or stop seeing them, because Hotch didn’t date most of them. Hotch simply accepted he won’t be a dad again. 

Then he met you.

You were an old friend of JJ's that he met at her birthday. Your work made you travel around the world for many years, which explained your absence during the past parties and you being unknown to most of the team. But you were back in town, ready to meet new people and start a new life.

Hotch never believed in fate.

But he was sure he was destined to meet you.

You were so full of life, acting like a ray of sunshine in every room you were in. And not that he considered himself dark, but he had to admit that his life and job had quite an impact on how he perceived himself. As someone who wasn’t very funny or joyful to be around. Not a very good dad or a nice partner. And sometimes, not even a great boss.

His life was pretty much in black and white. And when you came around, you brought colors with you.

It started that very first night, when you spent almost an hour sitting outside with Aaron. Drinking and watching the stars.

“Shouldn’t you be with JJ?” He asked after you finished a conversation about your favorite countries to visit and the one you recommended for someone like him.

“Don’t know,” you replied, shrugging. “I like being with you.”

Aaron could blame the alcohol for the redness on his cheeks, but you both knew it was insecurity and flattering. It’s been a long time since someone pointed out how they liked spending time with him. He felt…alive, knowing that you wanted to be around him.

And you weren’t lying for a single second. “You’re an interesting man, Aaron Hotchner. You need to let people see that.” you added, giving him a little shoulder bump. You kept your shoulder against his for a second. You loved the little smile your words created and the sparks that appeared in his eyes.

You felt lucky that you were one of the few people he offered a glimpse of the real him.

It started with coffee dates once a week. Before he went to work, and while you were still discovering your new life back in town, you met at the same coffee shop for an hour. You talked about everything, more life than work. You wanted to see Aaron, and not Hotch, the man JJ told you about. 

Even if she gave you such a good description of him that you were already willing to give him your heart without any hesitation.

You loved discovering new things about him every week. 

Each smile was breaking the wall around him.

Each time he put his hand on yours was him installing himself in your life.

And each kiss was you giving your heart to each other. 

These coffee dates were still a thing.

They just happened every day, at the place you were now sharing together.

And not only did you give him a lot of things already, you offered him the chance he thought wouldn’t come again, which he sadly accepted. 

To be a dad again.

You were four months pregnant, and it wasn’t always as easy as it seemed. Either the stress that comes from work or the fact Aaron still felt like he was too old for this, for you. But he was trying his best to make things as perfect as they could be. He was leaving the BAU earlier than before, and every day off was for Jack and for you. 

And every night, he made sure to have at least half an hour with you in the baby’s room to talk about the future.

But sometimes, dealing with both situations can be difficult. And today was another proof.

What was supposed to be a calm office day turned out to be more rough and animated. A new case came in the morning and turned out to be in town. 

Hotch was part of the team that went out to catch the unsub. He was going less on the field these days. There was a selfish reason behind that: he didn’t want to stress you or miss anything important with the baby. But the case being in Virginia, he took the opportunity to follow Spencer and Emily outside while JJ stayed with Penelope, like the good old days.

“God, I wish every case were as simple as this one.” Emily said when they came back to the car, the unsub was with the police officers. And Hotch had to admit it was pretty easy this time. He couldn’t wait to tell you about this one, how good it felt to be back there.

He could already hear you say something like, “We’ll tell our baby how their dad is a superhero,” which reminded him of when Jack used to see him like that. He hoped your baby would feel the same about him.

What if they hated him? What if they blame him for being away, for not doing enough? What if someone terrible happened to them because of his job?

Most of the time, Hotch managed to put these bad ideas away. And when he couldn’t, he found comfort in your arms. That’s what he needed right now.

He only had one thing to do: check on JJ and Penelope once he was back at the office to conclude his report and make sure everybody could go back home soon. Him included.

When Hotch entered Penelope’s office, he was welcomed by her confused and surprised face. “Sir? What are you doing here?” she asked. She got up and took a few steps towards him to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

“What do you mean what am I doing here?” he asked, even more confused than her. 

And the confusion just kept growing when he looked around and noticed Penelope was alone. “Where is JJ?” 

“Hmm, at the hospital?” From her tone, Hotch could tell that Penelope assumed he was supposed to know about her absence and the reason behind it. “[Y/N] called her?” This wasn’t a real question, because Penelope was there when you called. She heard you. But she couldn’t understand why she would know about that before Hotch.

And he couldn’t believe what he just heard. Sure, it made sense that you would call JJ if you needed help. She was one of your emergency contacts. But why wouldn’t you call him? 

Looking for his phone to check on you, Hotch realized his mistake.

He forgot his phone at his office. And spend the whole day assuming you were fine.

Before Penelope could explain the situation, or maybe she did, but he didn’t listen, Hotch ran to his office. He probably jostled some people in the rush, and there was a high possibility that he forgot to apologize. But it wasn’t his priority. Especially not when he grabbed his phone and saw the notification.

Six missing calls.

Around ten texts.

All from you.

You’ve got awful cramps when you wake up, and nothing would make them go away. You spent most of your day in bed, crying—which you didn’t tell Aaron, but he could hear the tears in your voice in one of your voicemails. You were asking him to come and bring you to the hospital to make sure the baby was doing fine.

But he never answered.

“I called JJ; she’s coming. Please don’t worry and text me when you see this. I love you,” said the last one.

When he dialed your phone, Hotch met your answering machine. 

He kept trying during the drive to the hospital. But all he could hear was your joyful voice asking to leave a message and that you would call back later. 

Never has Aaron needed to hear your voice so badly as right now.

The hospital wasn’t too far away from the bureau. Which didn’t prevent him from driving way above the limits. Not that he cared this time. 

Even if Aaron had prepared his speech in the car to appear calm, he lost his words right when he made his first step in the hospital. Being there was scary. Hopefully, when he arrived, the first person he saw was JJ. He rushed to her, almost scaring her from the way he grabbed her arm.

“Where is she? How is she? And the baby?” 

“Slow down, breathe for a second,” she replied, putting a hand on top of his to try and reassure him. “She is fine. And the baby too.”

The seven words that he needed to hear the most.

“I was supposed to bring her home, but she’ll be happy to have you.” JJ added with a sweet smile. If someone could understand Aaron’s position here, it was her.

Once she indicated to him the room you were staying in and he introduced himself to the nurse, Aaron rushed to meet you.

He was relieved to see you, for real. Sitting on the bed with your eyes closed. He took a second to look at you. Aaron hated that feeling in his stomach. He didn’t realize that until now, there was a quiet thought in his head saying that maybe he wouldn’t see you again. 

But you were there, looking better than he imagined you would. 

And when you opened your eyes and saw the man you love in front of you, you lit up the whole room with your eyes. “Aaron, you’re here!”

“Of course, I am,” he sighed, with a tired smile. He finally walked up to you and accepted the arms you were opening for him. It’s been a long time since a hug had felt this good for him. He let it go for a few seconds, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of having you close to him like that. He imagined you were home, in your bed, on a Sunday morning. Not at the hospital. 

Then everything hit him back. You, being sick and pregnant. Him, not being here for you.

Aaron kissed your forehead before cupping your face with his hands. “What happened?”

“The doctor said it wasn’t serious. Sometimes you get cramped and sick during the second semester. Basically, the baby is telling me to relax and stop overworking.” You replied with a soft laugh that wasn’t effective enough to stop him from frowning. “Love, we are both fine.”

“But I wasn’t there.” 

It hurt you how his voice sounded so sad. 

You heard Aaron speaking when he was physically hurt. And you already hated the way he would contain the pain by gritting his teeth, making his voice sound deeper and heavier. You always thought he was blaming himself for not being careful enough, which explained the tone.

But this time it was different. Aaron sounded like he hated himself for what he thought was a disappointment for you. But for him, mostly. His voice was broken, almost unintelligible. Like he didn’t want to be heard. And deep down, even if it was a part of his life you’d barely ever talked about, you knew where this was coming from.

"Aaron," you said softly, asking him to focus on you and not his pain. "I'm good. We're good.”

When he finally looked up to you, you met his red eyes. “These moments, they’ll happen again, you know.” 

He let out a sad sigh. “That’s not what I want.”

“I know, but you can’t blame yourself for that. This is your job. And we all accept it,” you said. You took one of his hands to put on your rounded belly. “She does too.”

Aaron opened his mouth to reply and argue on how this wasn’t the family dynamic he wanted for his second child. Not again. 

But no sound left his mouth. Which made you smile. This was exactly the reaction you expected from your so serious and composed boyfriend.

“She?” he finally replied, this time the glow in his eyes being replaced by happiness and surprise.

“The doctor did an ultrasound to make sure everything was alright. And this little princess inside finally decided to stop the mystery around herself.” You explained, but it would be a miracle if Aaron even heard you. You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction: his mouth open, his eyes going from yours to your belly like he was trying to comprehend what you said. “We’re having a baby girl, Aaron.” This time, you couldn’t contain your own tears.

This was all Aaron needed to put all his stress behind. He couldn’t think about his job and everything that came with it when now he knew that in a few months, he would hold in his arms the miracle he couldn’t wish for anymore. A daughter that will be the result of the love he had for you. A daughter that he will love as much as he loves you. As much as he loves Jack.

Even if he still couldn’t speak, you could tell he was as excited as you by the situation. But there was still one thing that was waiting to be clarified.

“And wanna know the best part?” you asked, slowly caressing your cheek. “She’ll be the biggest daddy’s girl and will always love you. When you’re home, at work, or away. You’ll hold a special place in her heart, forever, Aaron Hotchner.” 

Being an FBI agent and a dad was sometimes hard to combine. But Aaron knew that he was fighting alone to find the perfect balance between both. 

He had you. And a perfect family to make sure he was a great man and a great father.

[moontyger]

I've been meaning to reply to this for awhile and it's largely because I feel like functionally, the person above who said formality in English is dying is right. I have seen people claim that, for example, using honorifics when translating Japanese is bad translation and you can demonstrate the same thing in English. And I have never agreed. "Formal Japanese is like speaking to your boss" is something that I've heard a lot, but I don't really feel there's a huge difference in language in (US American) English. All right, so you don't say "fuck" or "shit" or that something "sucks." But how do you tell the difference between that and someone who simply doesn't use curse words? You can't. (And except for the times when I worked for medical doctors, I've always called my bosses by their first name and it would have stood out as unusual if I didn't.)

Like those 5 examples of formality levels above? So A is something you'll only see in written English. It's the language of things like wedding invitations, which have retained formal customs that are no longer used in other areas. If someone is actually speaking like that, I'm at a Ren Faire; this is not everyday language. No one speaks to their boss like this and if you did, it would stand out as very odd - so much so that you might even be spoken to about it because it would be assumed it was a deliberate affectation and possibly even mocking. (But if you're trying to represent the speech of a character who speaks archaic Japanese, it would work for that, but obviously that is not the same as merely formal.)

B is something you might hear, but it is still a little unusually stiff. It sounds like the person is uncomfortable more than they're being formal, like they're asking someone out on a first date. (Though I guess 'formal' is maybe meant to be 'I am terrified to speak to this person'? But I never got the impression that that's quite right.) People would notice if someone were speaking like this and probably flag it as a sign of nervousness, maybe social awkwardness if they did it all the time.

And E is just... do real people speak like this? (Also it's complicated, because if they do, I also feel like this language is not just informal, it's gendered male and coded as young, so maybe it's just a bad example because it's folded so many things into it beyond formality.)

As an aside: this is part of why I think kids are often still expected to use titles when adults aren't. Socially, the US is more hierarchical with children and expects formalities from them that are not expected of adults.

This leaves C and D as the quotidian examples. D is less formal, granted, but would I say it to my boss? Sure. (OK, I actually wouldn't, but that's because I've never called a meal "a bite" in my life. But "wanna grab lunch" seems fine. It doesn't strike me as inappropriate.) So I guess I feel like yes, technically all these levels of formality exist, but most of them are not actually used any longer, so if you're using them for translating contemporary people speaking, results may be very "real people don't talk like this."

Now maybe part of this is that I live in a very informal area of the country. Maybe in other regions they really are using B to speak to their boss. But it definitely isn't a universal thing such that I would feel it was something that could be said of "modern English" in general. (Also all the examples above as well as my perspective are very white, which is of course also a complication with modern spoken American English: there are real racial distinctions. So to some extent it is a hard language to generalize.)

Edit to Add: I also want to note here that this really has changed pretty quickly. People in the 1950s and 60s were much more formal than they are now and even somewhat more formal in the 1980s. You could definitely extrapolate something about politics and some people wanting more hierarchy (and freaking out about the lack of it) from a panic about the loss of formality in spoken language.

I'm so fascinated by languages with different levels of formality built in because it immediately introduces such complex social dynamics. The social distance between people is palpable when it's built right into the language, in a way it's not really palpable in English.

So for example. I speak Spanish, and i was taught to address everyone formally unless specifically invited otherwise. People explained to me that "usted" was formal, for use with strangers, bosses, and other people you respect or are distant from, while "tú" is used most often between family and good friends.

That's pretty straightforward, but it gets interesting when you see people using "tú" as a form of address for flirting with strangers, or for picking a fight or intimidating someone. In other languages I've sometimes heard people switch to formal address with partners, friends or family to show when they are upset. That's just so interesting! You're indicating social and emotional space and hierarchy just in the words you choose to address the other person as "you"!!

Not to mention the "what form of address should I use for you...?" conversation which, idk how other people feel about it, but to me it always felt awkward as heck, like a DTR but with someone you're only just becoming comfortable with. "You can use tú with me" always felt... Weirdly intimate? Like, i am comfortable around you, i consider you a friend. Like what a vulnerable thing to say to a person. (That's probably also just a function of how i was strictly told to use formal address when i was learning. Maybe others don't feel so weird about it?)

And if you aren't going to have a conversation about it and you're just going to switch, how do you know when? If you switch too soon it might feel overly familiar and pushy but if you don't switch soon enough you might seem cold??? It's so interesting.

Anyway. As an English-speaking American (even if i can speak a bit of Spanish), i feel like i just don't have a sense for social distance and hierarchy, really, simply because there isn't really language for it in my mother tongue. The fact that others can be keenly aware of that all the time just because they have words to describe it blows my mind!

[itstheghostofmypast]

🔥Overwhelmed🔥

Corporate AU Wooyoung x (F)Reader

Summary: No one could stop swiper when his queen was overwhelmed.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.1 K

Est. Read Time: 5 min

Warnings: None

Rating: SFW

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: I'd like to thank @edenesth for this picture- and dedicate this to her - my corporate queen.

Overwhelmed

That was one way to describe how you were feeling right now, from the way your admin had dumped everything on your department to the way clients were ringing your phone like you owed them money- incorrect, you had nothing to do with anything that had happened. The missing records, unfilled forms, lack of digitisation of pre existing documents, somehow ended up being given to you- sure, you knew with great power came an even greater responsibility, but being team leader did not mean you were willing to become a punching bag of your superiors.

To top it all off during your break an idiotic colleague from the IT department had decided to come at you for something, yelling at you, ruining your gaming session- the 30-40 minutes of peace you'd have during work- and in the end it turned out to be not your desktop that had an issue, the virus was in the lady in the cubicle next to yours. During that drama, you had been reported and banned from the game for 24 hours. It was wonderful, it was just wonderful. What were you going to do on your drive back home now?

The worst thing of all was that you were unable to see the only person who'd make your day bearable, the only person who'd wake you up gently every morning, with a soft damp tissue gently pressing against your closed lids, then his warm lips against your own before he'd whisper sweetly in your ear, “Time to dominate the day, my queen.” The same person who'd have your breakfast waiting for you as soon as you'd rush out of the room all dressed, forcing you to sit down and eat with him, sometimes feeding you if you'd try to say you were in a rush. The only person who would spend the night with you, choosing your clothes, shoes and accessories, ensuring to match his tie and socks with your clothes, “Pink shirt huh…welp, pinks socks it is.”- yes, he had worn pink socks and a pink tie, which most men at work found funny, but most women at work found it adorable.

Hence, now, you were sitting in your cubicle, staring at the spreadsheet, wondering what you had done to deserve this. Maybe you were too nice? Maybe you wronged someone? Maybe you - the irritating ringing of your phone had you heave out a sigh and pick it up, letting out a tired, “Hello?”

“Excuse me, miss, this is the police. You're under arrest for being so damn hot that your boyfriend is willing to commit murder for you.”

A chuckle broke past your lips as you sighed, leaning against the seat and humming, “Ah…really? Well, Mr.Police, I'm a bit busy right now, so I'll have to get back to you soon.”

“Nonsense.”

You heard from the phone and from behind you, causing you to turn around, phone pressed between your ear and shoulder, facing the man holding his phone to his ear with one hand and in his other hand he held a white box.

Hanging up, he placed it on the desk before pushing your keyboard aside, causing you to gasp in disapproval, “Silence my queen.” He demanded before flipping open the box and showing you the sweet treat that you had been eying for a while. You'd glance at it everytime you'd buy your morning coffee, knowing very well it was the bakery's best selling treat, but you'd postpone it often, for various nonsense reasons, as Jung Wooyoung would claim.

“Woo…” you glanced up at him with a pout, “Work…I have work-”

“It's 6 p.m. No more work, only cake!” He declared dragging a stool next to your chair and handing you a spoon, “I was away for one meeting, and I came back to my queen in shambles? The nerve of people - just you wait, I'll punch San in the face for leaving you like this.”

“Woo…his wife was giving birth.” You shook your head in defeat and amusement, suddenly remembering another reason to your glum mood, you had missed your boss and his wife- your friend's birth of their first child.

“I know. Where'd you think I got the cake from.”

Your eyes widened at the statement before flickering to the cake, squinting at the small card that had, “Congratulations, it's a girl!” written on it.

“YOU STOLE HIS CAKE!?”

Your screech echoed in the empty office followed by his shameless cackle, and a “REVENGE SHOULD BE SWEET, MY QUEEN!”

“JUNG WOOYOUNG!?”

He rolled his eyes at your yelling and scooped up a good amount of cake and pressed it against your lips, “Say ahhh…I got coffee too.”

Taking in a deep breath you reminded yourself that the intention behind this was sweet, and that later, perhaps tomorrow you'd be apologising to the new parents with another cake and a gift for their new born baby. Parting your lips you let him feed you, closing your eyes in pure bliss, instantly forgetting about everyone and everything, wanting nothing more to smooch the man infront of you for blessing you with this wonderful, sweet, delicious treat.

The moment you opened your eyes, you realised that his lips were on yours, and you gently pushed him away, swallowing and mumbling, “Y-you idiot we’re at work.”

“Don't worry, ain't nobody here but us and this cake.”

You shook your head in amazement. This day had been shit, but at least you had your personal little clown, your companion, your lover, and your little thief swiping around and getting you treats. As the thoughts processed you had somehow started crying, tears rolling down your cheeks that you realised when you felt him wipe them with his thumb, giving you a small smile, “It's okay… its okay to feel overwhelmed, love…the world won't hate you if you take a little break.”

Nodding at his statement you let him pull you in a hug, your head resting against his shoulder as he gently stroked you back, mumbling, “Their daughter is beautiful…I'm glad she takes after the mom…imagine if her head was as big as his…pushing it out would've been hell.”

His smile widened at the sniffled laughter, hugging you closer as he eyed the cake that San’s wife had insisted he take back to you, knowing how you had to handle her husband’s load today and how the lack of a Jung in your life today may have overwhelmed you. She was right. Perhaps she was a good friend- welp. He was gonna swipe the cake anyway, Mrs.Choi only caught him and laughed it off.

“Woo…”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you…” you mumbled, moving back before you started eating again, taking a sip of your coffee, realising how hungry you were, how grateful you were, how loved you were. It really was a blessing to have someone like Jung Wooyoung in your life - no matter what kind of chaos he brought with him.

“Anything for you…my queen.” He whispered, watching you eat in peace, chin in palm as he admired you, taking in your tired posture and eyes, naturally you were tired and exhausted, drained and overwhelmed- no matter, he'd make sure to fix all that. It was his job to keep his queen, the love of his life, safe and happy.

[stealingpotatoes]

POTES SEMI-LIVEBLOGS KOTOR!

ive been writing my thoughts in the notes app but due to popular demand (one person asked for it) i'm posting my liveblogging DO NOT SAY/TAG/COMMENT SPOILERS PLEASE i read tags

warning im a yapper, im 10 hours in and theres a lot already (separated into sessions):

SESSION 1

whos this clown i thought i would be playing as revan

ive been too spoiled by dragon age origins this character creator sucks ass

only human???? ): fr?? ill just imagine her different in my brain or some shit

my life is being mansplained to me. is this bad writing or do i have amnesiacs

hes meta now??? hes talking abt the screen controls?????

omg a jedi and an evil jediii

omg their asses suckedddd they both died immediately

i <3 bringing a sword to a gun fight

WHY R THERE SO MANY SITH WHERE IS TJE RULE OF TWO

i clicked a workbench and it said lightsaber so either i get a lightsaber or i get a jedi friend whose lightsaber i can steal if im careful

I assume u play as revan in kotor2 so im gonna buy that now so i can play it when im done playing w this clown

i got light side points im getting a good grade in game morality which is something both normal to want and possible to achieve

everyone keeps saying revan is dead but thats my friend revan from tumblr hes clearly alive. or they???

my characters ass is distractingly present onscreen

huge fan of the way everyone collapsed drunk what the FUCK was in that wine

ok these sith ppl might be the bad guys but their armour is DRIPPY AS FUCK

ideologically i dont agree w the sith but they kinda went off w the fits

googling how to become a sith without being evil cause they have Drip

SESSION 2

i paid £1.19 to see revan he better show up in this game at some point

all these sith n i still cant find one revan….. stop faking ur death rn come out n talk to me babygirl this isnt like u….

why can i be light/dark side if im not a jedi. give me a laser sword

maybe this jedi gyal will know where revan is faking his death. or give me a fuckin lightsaber PLEASEEE

was just thinking 'does this game have romance' and then carth called me beautiful. i dont think im gonna romance anyone until i get this amnesia sorted

why is carth questioning me so much abt the crash im pretty sure i have amnesia

why tf did the jedi lady have me transferred to this ship are we in lesbians with each other???

carth's not wrong it is suspicious but i lowkey have amnesia so i coulda done that i coulda not

a lot of clone wars voice actors in this. was lucasfilm so broke in the 2000s that they could only afford the same 3 VAs for every project

mission is 14??????? we need to get my girl back in school

SESH 3

tale as old as time i fucking suck at racing games

ok i didnt realise you had to mash click i won

REVAN!!! REVAN!!!!!!!!!

why am i dreaming abt revan tho. real as hell but ?????

lmao cringe revan getting blown up. i thought the jedi beat rev-meister in a fight but no. accident

"such visions are often a sign of force sensitivity" COOL YAY GIVE ME A LIGHTSABER

BASTILLE LOST HER FUCKING LIGHTSABER??

CARTH IS RIGHT THATS LIKE DAY ONE JEDI SHIT. ok i still love her even tho shes a bit of a bitch and also doesnt have a saber

if we find a lightsaber im taking it first tho

whys carth getting weird abt me being weird that he doesnt trust me. i just wanna be friends mate

SESH IV: A NEW HOPE

'i mean no disrespect, but perhaps one of the male slaves could serve you better' i went in here to start a slave revolution and instead got called a lesbo

LMAO THERES A SPICE LAB???? WALTER WHITE WHERE ARE YOU

thats insaneee they blew up BILLIONS of people to get to one jedi?????? these sith arent fucking around theyre scary

UM THIS IS CRAZY GRAPHICS THE LIGHTING IS CLEARER/DARKER WHEN I COVER THE SUN W THE SHIP EDGE?? 2003 IS THE YEAR OF THE FUTURE

someone just called me padawan i kinda assumed i was in my late 20s do i just have baby vibes

all the jedi in the movies are so chill but every kotor jedi i've met so far has been a bit of a bitch

YO THEY HAVE A YODA!!! its not THE yoda but

cool so these guys are just the regional managers at best. your asses are not the council

why can everyone smell my force juju so strong

THATS STRAIGHT UP YODA'S CLONE WARS VA

why does fake yoda not blink both eyes at the same time. im calling him master tortimer he reminds me of the animal crossing mayor

bastila there was no need for such a fancy bow

malak is like evil aang

revan is so much shorter than malak omg

are me and bastila sharing dreams. are we both obsessed w revan

poor mission ):

WHAT WAS MASTER TORTIMER ABT TO SAY????????? EVER SINCE WHEN??? DID WE KNOW EACH OTHER BEFORE MY AMNESIACS????? DID BASTILA TELL U SMTHN MORE WHEN I WASNT IN THE ROOM???

im intrigued i like this whole hidden jedi shtick its very compelling. so is whatever theyre hiding from me

kinda surprising no jedi found me before tho given my force juju is so strong

IM A LEGIT JEDI NOW??? SICK!!!

does revan rlly not have pronouns i thought that was a tumblr thing but they straight up are a nonbinary icon ive never heard a single pronoun used. revan's pronouns are revan/revan's

damn revan seems so cool in these stories (charismatic war hero that convinced their troops to join them as conqueror?? julius caesar) and yet all we've seen them do onscreen is get blown up and die by accident

A YEAR AGO? the way they were talking i assumed revan died like. a week before the game started

master uh i forgot his name he has martin scorcese vibes said revan was a paragon of the jedi so what im getting is that all jedi gifted kids turn evil

even if i didnt know revan as a tumblr darling id KNOW revan has to be alive somewhere they way everyone talks abt them is too cool for a character who exploded and died. i think. i hope. I PAID £1.19 TO MEET REVAN

'only you and bastila can stop malak' seriously????? just us two?? ive been a jedi for like, 6 minutes and you guys keep calling bastila young???? do you guys not wanna help??

omg im getting carth to traumadump! <3

HE WAS ON REVAN'S ARMY>??

i totally knew the jedi code and did not have to google it whatsoever

they rlly said fuck going to illum heres a crystal from the bin

he told me id be a great sentinel and i was like i know but i want blue cause i dont wanna be matchies with bastila

OGH!!! I HAVE A LIGHTSABER!!!! THIS IS GAME OF THE YEAR!!!!

omg i made my lightsaber perfectlyyy which is rare <3 getting a good grade in jedi

maybe i was a travelling lightsaber salesman before my amnesia

seriously though WHO was i everyone's kinda stopped acting like i have amnesia since the first mission BUT IVE PLAYED DRAGON AGE THAT GIVES YOU OPPORTUNITIES TO RP UR PAST. THIS DOESNT. EITHER THIS GAME IS BAD (but i love it so its not) OR I HAVE RETROGRADE AMNESIA

also everyone keeps being like "Oh ur force juju is so strong" AND NOBODY FOUND ME TIL NOW??? suspicious. did getting a really bad concussion activate the force in me

im too confused and amnesiac'd to think abt anything except the fact i have a glowing stick now

FSESH FIVE:

big fan of using aliens to avoid having to get VAs to read every line

oh so carth's boyfriend saul betrayed him and became leader of the sith fleet so he has trust issues

well he needs to calm down. i can't betray him cause i dont know what the fuck is happening

yooo i love the design differences on the mandalorians

oh my god this lady wanted to fuck her droid cause it was her husband's. and then it killed itself. wtf. game of the year tho

wtf they jebaited this juhani person into going dark side but then i talked her out of it. that seems a bit mean of them

i hope she can join my party she looks too unique to be a random npc

ive been thinking and I might be going crazy but there was a loading screen tip ages ago that said jedis could wipe ppl's mind and all i thought at the time was 'fuck the shitshow acolyte didnt make that up'. but what if one of them wiped MY memory and i used to be a jedi or smthn ????????

cause they keep being like ur weirdly good at this??? did bastila steal my memories??????????

I KNOW I HAVE AMNESIA!! EVEN IF EVERYONE DOESN'T BRING IT UP BC THEYRE PROBABLY TRYING TO SAVE MY FEELINGS

if i dont have amnesia and im just deeping the fact the opening had my life being mansplained then im gonna look real stupid

anyway time 2 go to the fuckshit ruins cave where r-dog and malak went to

"it must be referring to revan. the dark lord and malak--" revan's pronouns are revan/thedarklord

bastila said theres no mention of the Builders in the archives. does she just know every text off by heart

THIS DROID IS 20K YEARS OLD ???

omg i can equip 2 lightsabers at once. game of the year

OK I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING I SAID ABOUT THE AMNESIA BASTILA IS ASKING ME QUESTIONS ABOUT MY BACKGROUND THAT I CAN ANSWER. I REPEAT I DO NOT HAVE AMNESIA

ok i didnt get choices and i didnt really uh… say anything that i didnt already get told im still not ruling out amnesia

also booo i didnt get to find out how old i was

master tortimer rlly looks like the ultimate ketamine yoda

LMAO THERE WAS A DIALOGUE OPTION 2 CALL JUHANI A CATGIRL

omg kashyyk from jedi fallen order!!!

I CAN UPGRADE MY LIGHTSABER THIS IS JUST LIKE JFO

omg this ship is fun i wish everyone had personalised bunk spaces like hfw… a game which came out 19 years after this i should probably just take what we have

im gonna start w manaan cause im p sure thats what B-dog said n its the same language the droid was speakin

omg hyperspace from star wars

THE GUY THE BUILDING FELL ON???

am i having dreams abt revan bc bastila killed revan and im connected to her this is so roundabout

maybe i'd sleep better if my ponytail wasnt clipping into the pillow

[kiwi accent] six

carth needs a xanax every time i think we're friends he stops trusting me

also lmao he actually pointed out how wild it was that a day one padawan is being sent on this uber important mission and HES RIGHT IT IS WEIRD!! i thought it was main character logic but he's calling it out

i really really like the sense of unease that's setting in like at first i thought it was just cause im not used to 2003 games but no this is on purpose bc carth my friend carth keeps calling it out

THERE IS A CHILD ON MY SHIP ??????????????????

lmao the representative for menaan is roland wann. its like poetry it rhymes

there are no cameras in the sith hangar <3 rookie error i can commit crimes now

bastila's favourite hobby is getting shot and walking into my grenades

this isnt a combat system this is a missing system

I GOT ARRESTED???? IM JUST A GIRL

nvm i had a datapad that said the sith were evil so theyve let me go free and we're besties

why do i feel like ive just walked into an underwater horror mission

this suit waddles at the speed of a penguin on fentanyl

i tamed the beastie this is like how to train your dragon

MALAK FIRED ON REVAN?????? WERENT THEY BEST FRIENDS???????

but maybe revan escaped when bastila wasnt looking THEYRE FINE THEYRE OUT THERE SOMEWHERE. I BELIEVE

so hopefully when we run into revan they'll be like agh i changed my ways cause of the being shot thing and they'll be my bestie

great news i successfully communicated w the ship child and gave her back to dantooine. my girl has shockingly good linguisitics skills

bastila is so dour "oh watch out for the dark side" GIRL I AM. I NEED TO GET THE BEST GRADE IN GAME MORALITY

ok OFF TO KASHYYK i hope cal kestis is there… thru the force i guess… bc he wont be born for another 4000 years but its whatever

omg you'll never guess what. another vision. wow its one of the thangs. cool this is a tomorrow me problem

[where-dreamers-go]

"Rescue" Leon Kennedy x Reader

(A/N: And so I finally write down an idea that’s been cinematically in my mind then made it a soulmate au. Leon Scott Kennedy is back in action! What happens when he realizes he’s closer to his soulmate while on assignment?

Warnings: angst, strong language, canon violence and imagery descriptions, hurt/comfort, fluff, and use of (Y/N) for your name.

Word Count: 4,145 words)

~~~

~~~

Mornings set the tone for the rest of the day. On most days. The hours ahead were hopefully to be positive ones. Your day started incredibly early. On purpose and with intention. Around you, wall were white and decorated with monochromatic modern art. Metal chairs were arranged in a rectangular fashion with an empty coffee table in the center as you sat. No magazines or pamphlets to entertain. Each step taken by others on the tile floor echoed in the lobby. There were no conversations or passing comments to fill the space. The sound of your breathing was louder than whatever the receptionist was busying herself with behind the tall desk. Just about ten minutes, you thought as you checked your watch. Talk steady. If they don’t mention a start date, ask. They definitely need more people for data entry. You got this. On your lap, you nervously spun a metal ring around your left index finger. The circular crystal embedded into the metal was currently light blue. Pretty normal. A sign you were not too far nor too close enough to your soulmate. If it was a mood ring the color would had signaled you were possibly calm. Despite your nerves, you felt good about the day ahead. It was an opportunity for something new.

. . .

Rumbling and the occasional bounce of the vehicle were unfortunately the only normal occurrences in Leon Kennedy’s day. Passing into the edge of a town, the team of agents were in route to a facility. A science center in appearance, there was nothing in advancement happening that late morning. The Umbrella Corporation made sure of that. An alert of bioweapons sightings came in two hours ago. To make matter complicated, not all civilians had evacuated the building. So saving any civilians was added to the to-do list. If Leon could save someone, he’d at least smile. “ETA: Two minutes.” The driver called out, another agent. Leon glanced out the small window. All geared up, his vest held nearly every weapon and tool he would need. Beside his watch on his left wrist sat a personal item, a metal bracelet. Both sturdy and a comfort on dark days. Its small crystal within darkened into a deep blue, almost purple. A little too close, Leon thought and hoped it would lighten by the time they moved in. The man could only hope.

. . .

“Shit.” Leon grimaced as he reloaded his gun. The lobby was trashed and blood-stained. Broken chairs and other bare furniture was scattered across the floor. Added a freshly eliminated infected. “Hate to see the break room.” Based on the intact entrance doors and windows, the bioweapons’ forced entry was not through the front of the building. Chris peered around and stated, “I’ll take the right side and sweep the first floor. You take the left.” “Got it.” Leon headed down a hallway. Its usually closed door was splintered across the tile. He avoided stepping on any debris that would crunch under his boots. There was no telling how many infected were in the building. Not until the other agents checked in. After taking a quick look at his watch, Leon registered the drastic change in color on the crystal bracelet. “Oh, fuck.” Leon sighed and swallowed the growing lump in his throat. “Not here. Why do they have to be here?” Steadily checking the hall, all his senses were alert for danger. His mind, however, was tumbling with the worst questions. What if you worked for Umbrella making bioweapons? What if you were a bioweapon, infected and doomed? Just make it quick, Leon thought somberly.

. . .

Adjusting yourself quietly off of your half-asleep leg, you leaned against the tile wall. Hunched in the back corner of the largest restroom stall was turning into a new, unwanted activity. I should’ve left as soon as the interview was over, you thought for perhaps the twelfth time in the past two and a half hours.

Over your time hiding, screeches could still be heard every so often. Piercing and making your blood run cold. Always when hope of it being gone rose in you, your heard it. Frightening and disheartening. You counted yourself lucky. For your quick thinking and for having your phone on silent, you were still alive. Too bad the cell signal sucked on the third floor. If only your heartbeat was the loudest sound that morning. How is this evening happening? You wondered as you counted the tile again. Feeling distressed would sure to wreck havoc on your system later. Raising your head, you swore you heard a sound. Please be nothing. The sound grew faintly louder. Soles of shoes out in the hallway. You remained silent. Not knowing who or what rampaged through the building after your interview left you at a disadvantage. One you were well aware of. At first, you had suspected an armed attack to the company, however blood-chilling roars proved otherwise. I wanna go home. You thought, still as stone on the floor. You were not about to meet any creature face to face. Bipedal or not. Small thumps shook the main door of the restroom. Is someone trying to come in? How well could that lock above the main door hold for?

THUMP ping WHAM

You covered your mouth as you nearly jumped out of your skin. “Hello?” A deep voice called out. “Is anyone in here?” Heart beating rapidly, you did not dare to move. Could you trust the stranger? This random man? How long were you intending on hiding in a stall? Bending lower, you observed dark boots slowly making their way into the restroom. A room with five stalls. “Listen, I’m here to help.” Likely, you thought suspiciously. “It’s too dangerous to be in here,” he said three steps closer. “We’re on orders to rescue civilians.” And he totally knows I’m in here. Government or something? “My name’s Leon. I can get you out of here.” Fine. Fine. Okay! “Are those things still out there?” You asked in a broken whisper. Fear and hours of silence effecting you. “Yeah.” “Crap.” “Tell me about it.” Your eyebrows pinched together. Didn’t expect him to say that. Easing yourself up to stand, your body was more than a little relieved to be off of the cold, hard tile. You took a steady breath. As quietly as you could, you unlocked the stall door and peered out. Icy blue eyes regarded you immediately.

“I’m Leon.” Said the man with dirty blond hair. A bulletproof vest covered his torso and overall distracting from his casual clothes. “Are you all right . . . ?” “(Y/N).” You answered, trying really hard not to glance a the gun he held. With all the other ‘tools’ on his person, he seemed pretty legit to you. “Is . . . everyone else hiding too?” Lips pressing together, Leon glanced away for a moment. Oh, no. “We still haven’t done a complete sweep of the building yet, but the team has found others.” He stated. “I’m sure they locked themselves in their offices if they didn’t run out.” “Do you know who’d be in an office now?” “I have no idea.” You said honestly, “I was just here for a job interview.” His eyebrows rose a fraction. “Oh yeah?” His tone was steady. “Guess I’ll keep looking.” You shrugged. “I hope you have better luck next time,” Leon turned back to the open door. “Let’s get going. Stay close.” “Okay.” What choice did you have otherwise but to follow him? You were ill prepared to observe the aftermath of whatever happened. The eerie emptiness and scattered belongings throughout the hall. Maybe this guy was your ticket out, your guarantee of going home. Anything was better than your earlier options.

Leon hadn’t been exaggerating when he said ‘sweep’. With his weapon ready, he checked every open room. Thankfully nothing scary showed itself. “Any chance they gave you a tour?” Leon asked as he glanced up and down a hallway. “No. But they have some pictures on their website.” “Helpful.” “Not really,” you whispered. Glancing over his shoulder, Leon gave you an amused look. Oh. Good sarcasm. You tore your gaze away. An open door down the hall became occupied uncannily fast. So quietly. Someone leaned against the doorframe. Stepping out, their professional attire looked wrong, hanging where it shouldn’t. A gravely, strangled breath carried towards the pair of you. Leon turned with aimed precision. Remaining still, you felt coldness creep up your arms. Something was very wrong. The person hobbled into the hall with unblinking eyes and a strangled screech. Their pace increased as they angled in your direction.

BANG

You covered your ears a second too late. What used to be an employee laid in an unmoving heap on the tile floor. Discolored and inhuman. “What happened to them?” You asked with a shaky voice. “They’re infected,” answered Leon as he turned down the other half of the hall. You kept up without missing a beat. “So a zombie?”

GRRAAAH!

Two more infected raced out from the open room behind you. Jaws slacked and fingers clenched forward like claws, they targeted the pair of you. “Crap,” you exclaimed. Before you could move anywhere, Leon had opened fire on the infected. Aim perfect and practiced. The threats were down before your heart rate raised too high. Grumbling under his breath, Leon went forward to inspect the room. “Stay right there.” He advised as you remained by the hall’s intersection. “Sure.” Freaking zombies, you thought. Out of everything -- anything. Zombies. Briefly, you peered around and thankfully nothing moved. Leon’s handling this well. Maybe zombies aren’t new? And real. You cringed at the thought. Witnessing and knowing what had rampaged through the building earlier wasn’t a comfort. A bit of scary closure maybe. “All clear in there,” Leon announced as he joined you. “We’ll see the rest of the floor and meet back up with the team downstairs.” “Cool.” You breathed out a short reply. “Don’t worry,” Leon assured you, “I’ll get you outta here.” “I appreciate it. Really.” He sent you a small smile. It warmed the hope in your heart.

The rest of the hall held knocked over seating areas and ignored art. Beyond it was a closed set of doors. Unlocked and probably designed with fire safety in mind. Leon paused as he reached one of the doors. Does he hear something? You dared not stand too close. Not that standing near your new acquaintance was disagreeable. Simply, you did not want to be in his way.

WHAM

“Leon!” You jumped back against the wall. On the floor with growling and grunting was a struggle of alarming visuals. Both Leon and an terribly disfigured infected fought for purchase, for an upper-hand. For survival. Frantically watching over Leon with increased anxiety, you didn’t move. You didn’t even scream. Should I kick it? With a frown, Leon hit the infected back to get out one shot. It was enough. Leon scooted back before rising to his feet. “You all right?” He turned to you. “Me? Sure. You?” “I could use some pizza later.” Leon said as he cautiously entered the section of the hallway. “Sounds good,” you added as you followed him and dearly hoped your stomach wouldn’t start vocalizing its agreement. Especially after witnessing that frightful fight.

Glancing around, the plain walls gave a stark contrast to what could be lurking behind every door. Every unexplored corner. “We almost made a full circle,” you announced as you spotted a familiar elevator at the very end of the hall. “Then we’re out of here and --” “What?” Leon’s arm came up to block you from moving forward. A well defined, muscular arm. You didn’t notice anything abnormal. Yet that didn’t make you feel any less hesitant of what lay ahead. So you elected to stand behind Leon. “Show yourself.” Leon called out with his gun raised to a doorway. “If they’re still human.” You whispered.

Steadily with raised hands, two people in business casual attire walked out of an office. They appeared healthy. Definitely unnerved in their situation. But human nonetheless. “We just want safe passage out,” said the taller of the two men. No duh, you thought as you brought yourself to stand beside Leon. “Then stay close.” “Who are you?” Asked the second man wearing glasses. “I’m Leon Kennedy. I’m on orders to --” “Rescue us?” Interrupted the first man. “Let’s not waste time.” “Right.” Leon subtly turned to check on you. Blue eyes giving you a quick once over. You gave a brief, if not tiny, smile of encouragement.

The faster we’re out of here the better. At least those two had each other. You thought as you followed Leon across the echoing tile. “Which department are you from?” You glanced over your shoulder to notice the shorter man directing his question to you. “Oh, I don’t work here,” you answered. Both man shared concerned frowns between themselves. Therefore, you followed up quickly with, “I was here for a job interview. For data entry.” “And you didn’t do it from home?” Asked the taller man. “I . . . didn’t see that option.”

Being as the men asked no more questions, you set your sights straight ahead. Thankfully, stepping around a trashed bulletin board. You kept closer to Leon than your new group members. Definitely not going to work at any place associated with this one, you thought as all of you reached the end of the hall. Stealthily, Leon crept into a stairway and quietly beckoned the three of you onward. “We’re three floors up,” whined the taller man behind you. “I’ve never not taken the elevator.” “Good time to try them out,” commented Leon as he headed down stairs. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Better than ten flights of stairs, you thought to yourself. Even better with Leon leading the way. He probably did the ground floor too. Hope of safety and freedom, you lively took each step. Easily done even with two grumbling men following after you. You’d think they’d be more thankful. They work here! You frowned. Did they call for help? “Uh, Leon?” You inquired. “Yeah?” He paused to look up to you. Patience in his eyes. “Are there any more of those . . . things in the lobby?” “There shouldn’t be.” “That’s not very confident,” sneered the shorter and obnoxious man. You rolled your eyes. “Let’s keep going,” Leon announced and took two steps at a time.

With the door to the lobby in sight, you were anxious to see if the rest of Leon’s team found other survivors. Surely, there were people who weren’t infected. What do we do when we’re out? You wondered. Were other buildings attacked too? You swallowed dryly. Where does Leon go?

SLAM

Yelping, you peered above as a broad shouldered infected burst through the second floor’s door. “RUN!” At Leon’s order, you rushed passed him to the door. In seconds, you were back in the same lobby and surrounded by broken furniture as your heart pounded in your chest. Electing to head towards the reception desk was your first thought. The front entrance was further off and a little too good to be true. “Hey,” you stumbled as the two men pushed passed you. The men did not utter a word to you nor did they let up their speed. They knew where they were going. They knew where to hide. Both heading towards a far door. But what if they run right to a zombie? Fear rushing through you again, you made your way to the tall desk. After checking inside the space, you entered through the unlocked door. You were safe for the time being. Just wait for Leon. That’s all. You thought as you tried calming your breathing. He’ll be fine. We can go home. I can, you corrected yourself. Everything will be fine. Quietly, you sat on the cushioned chair. You’re safe. Just breathe. Besides your breathing and heartbeat, you did not hear anything else. A relief for sure until you immediately considered your new friend. The brave man you left in a stairwell alone with some monster. Your stomach dropped as you remembered him being tackled earlier.

“(Y/N)?” Called out a familiar voice. “Leon,” you exclaimed happily and jumped out of your seat. In another breath and a few echoing footsteps, Leon was in front of the receptionist desk. A smirk soon curving his lips. “Rethinking a job position?” Leon asked with raised eyebrows. “No.” You hastily exited the tiny room. He didn’t appear injured. “Where are the others?” “I think they took the stairs.” Pointing off in the direction they had gone, you asked. “Are they going back up?” A frown creased Leon’s concerned expression. Their actions troubled him. “They could’ve left, right?” You glanced towards the entrance. “Yeah . . . So why go down to the basement?” “There’s a basement?” Icy blue eyes regarded you. “Not that I’m scared of basements,” you said quickly. “We can check it out. Maybe they’re stealing or something.” “We have to get you out of here.” “Them too. Who knows what they’re doing? They might need help. Not with stealing hopefully.” Expression softening, Leon nodded. “Come on. Stay close.” “Will do.” You whispered with a determined nod of your own. “Not too close to step on your heels though.” “Heh. That’s the least of my worries.” “But everything should be good now, right?” “Let’s hope.”

Together, Leon and yourself made a beeline for the basement door. An easy task even with knocked over display cases of assorted business accomplishments and dead infected in your path.

Despite everything, you thought, at least Leon is easy to get along with. The lady who interviewed me was . . . seemed bothered to talk. Oh well. Coming up to the door, Leon raised his left hand to the handle. It was then that you finally noticed his bracelet as you stood mostly behind him. A crystal so dark a shade, you nearly mistook it as onyx. You took a quick glance at your ring. “Oh.” Heat rose to your neck. “Yeah,” murmured Leon over his shoulder. “Some first meeting, huh?” “Yah think?” Of all other things to happen today. My soulmate is rescuing me from zombies? What the heck is going on? You blinked and asked without another thought, “You knew this whole time?” “There was no one else in the restroom.” “Touché.” Stepping back, you observed Leon peek beyond the door. You weren’t quite sure what to make of the indistinctive sounds coming up. Leon did. Grabbing his walkie talkie, he communicated the news to his team. Something about an umbrella and biological weaponry. The others advised a warning regarding the two employees. What is his job exactly? Efficiently and quickly, Leon checked over his gun and remaining supplies. Set for another round of sweeping. “Stay here,” he ordered firmly as he pushed open the door. “But--” “Here.” You sighed and leaned against the wall. “Fine, but come back in one piece. This place has made me nervous all morning.” “Then we’ll have lunch somewhere else.” In a blink of an eye, Leon was out of your sight. Every minuscule sound afterwards made you jump or hurriedly check your surroundings. Being alone again activated the rest of your fear. It was a wonder how being in good company, very capable company, eased your worries. He’s my freaking soulmate, you thought as you attempted keeping your breathing even. And he’s down there with two strangers or fighting off infected like a regular Thursday for him. You sighed again. Tuesdays suck.

. . .

“Damn it,” Leon leapt out of the way. A basement of a science center should had been much quieter and clear than how Leon found it. Somewhere behind a generator, the two men -- scientists -- were terrified and hardly conscious. In the open area beyond, storage containers stood a large infected. Slender with thick legs, the infected had a new target. It lowered to the floor with a deep growl. Just my luck, thought Leon. Thankfully, the experienced agent was more motivated than usual. With Chris and the rest of the team on the way down, they’d be finished in no time, which left good news in regards to his soulmate. You were alive and well. Leon was determined to keep you safe no matter the danger. “Who’s hunting who, pal?”

BANG BANG BANG

. . .

Anxious and heart rate moderately high, you remained close to the basement door. Nothing came in or out of the lobby. All around you had remained silent as chaos erupted beyond the closed door. Half an hour of not knowing what occurred in the basement felt like two hours worth of unnerved twitching. Is the whole basement full of infected? You thought as you fiddled with your ring. What if one comes out? What if Leon doesn’t --? “Ah.” You nearly jumped a foot back as the door opened and a team walked out wearing protective vests. Not one could you recognize. Each armored and live human eyed you before heading to the exit. Even the two men from earlier were dragged out. Weird. You thought, expecting someone to at least converse with you for security reasons. “Uh…” Despite the clear lack of danger, the situation appeared all the more odd. Confusing too. Less odd, thankfully, when a familiar dirty blond haired man stepped out into the lobby. “Leon.” You rushed up to him without a second thought. A little beat-up with red marks, Leon turned in your direction. “How are you not one bruise?” You exclaimed. “Give it time.” Leon smiled. “Are you okay?” You asked. “A little hungry, but fine.” You shook your head. “You’re something else, you know that?” “In a bad way?” “No… Different in a very…unexpectedly impressive way. If that makes sense?” “Heh.” Leon rubbed the back of his neck. He is pretty handsome, you thought off-handedly. “So, if all’s well, what now?” “We get out of here.” He answered simply before adding, “medical checks, debriefs, reports.” “I’ll take that over infected.” “Me too.” Icy blue eyes studied you softly. All seriousness and survival focus faded away. He was Leon Kennedy. A man who probably did not expect to find his soulmate amongst entering chaos. “Leon!” A muscular man called from the entrance. “Let’s go!” Without a word, Leon and yourself headed out of the building. Armored and unmarked vehicles were pulling into the parking lot. An organized sign of clean-up. It was going to be okay. You survived and your soulmate found you when all was terrifying. The rest of the day lay ahead. “So…about lunch?” Leon murmured.

. . .

Music smoothly filled your living room as a movie played with interruption. Something calm and a little nostalgic. Just what you needed. Days had gone by after all the checkups and documenting of the events that had taken place at the science center. You hadn’t even looked at your résumé after that. On a brighter note, the ordeal had placed your soulmate in your life. When each document had been signed and you were free to go, you were able to start getting to know each other in a domestic setting. No infected sightings. No upcoming job interviews. Both of you were completely safe and quite comfortable. Relaxing on the couch, you found solace in being all snuggled into Leon’s side. Cozy and cared for. He had an arm wrapped around you as his other hand played with the soulmate ring on your finger. Together and alive. You counted yourselves lucky. Situations could had been extremely different. Over the past week or so, nightmares plagued your sleep and made days uneasy. So having Leon, your soulmate, who completely understood helped. Life didn’t have to be all scary. Neither of you needed to run from one day to the next. You were able to take things slow or any pace you desired. All would be okay. Leon had promised safety. You had no doubt he meant it.

Nudging your head against Leon, you caught a glimpse of his smile. Like a sunrise. “Leon.” “Hmm?” “We could pretend we met in a grocery store or something.” “Oh, yeah?” He pulled you closer. “Like during a holiday rush. It gets wild…I’ve heard.” “Which aisle?” You snickered, “Toilet paper aisle.” “Nothing says ‘want a date’ like two ply.” “Homemade pizza does.” You kissed his chin and was rewarded another smile from Leon. “You had me at ‘not really’. After I asked if they gave you a tour.” “That’s so random.” “You were just being you. How could I not like you?” You raised an eyebrow. “Is this a soulmate thing?” “As long as we’re together, I don’t care what it’s called.” Gently, Leon leaned in to kiss your forehead. His smile curved against your skin. “I’m just glad I found you.”

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Leon Scott Kennedy Tags: @bumblebeesfromvenus @c4rl40n4 @d333athw1sh

** Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.

[calware]

i'm not sure if this is the most useful tool for doing this but it's the one that i currently like the most: contrast grid by eightshapes. this tool is useful for testing text colors on different backgrounds to see if they are accessible. this is so important because while you may be able to read the text on your blog/carrd/website/etc, not everyone can, and this site will tell you if your color combination meets the web content accessibility guidelines for color contrast

for example, here is the grid for my website (minus the graphics like the fake text files or the pesterlogs, which have preset colors). AAA means high contrast, AA means good contrast, AA18 means "only use for large or bold text, not body text" and DNP stands for Does Not Pass

there are a lot of other sites out there that can help you test your web colors, but i like this one because it allows you to enter your entire palette at once and see how each color interacts with the rest. it's also fun to name your colors and they all look nice laid out like this

this firefox extension is also very helpful; it allows you to click around a website and it'll tell you what passes and what doesn't

also, i should note that not *everything* has to pass 100%. for example, this blue-on-white doesn't pass:

it's just good to know what does and doesn't pass, and the more that passes, the better. just know that if something doesn't pass, some people might not be able to read it well

[f1girliefics]

A New Chapter in Red

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: A new start for your husband, a new reason for more pictures.

The day felt unreal as you walked into the Ferrari headquarters hand-in-hand with Lewis. 

It was right after he posed next to the beautiful car.

The iconic prancing horse above the entrance and pride filled your chest. This was a big moment for him, a new beginning with Ferrari, and you couldn’t be happier to share it with him.

He walked around the office and said hi to a lot of people.

Everyone was super welcoming and kind.

Lewis looked amazing in his new team uniform, the bright red and white suit making him look every bit the champion he was. 

Your champion.

His smile was easy, but you could see a hint of nerves in his eyes.

“You’re staring,” he teased, glancing at you with a smirk.

“I can’t help it,” you said, holding up your phone to take another picture. “You look perfect.”

“If I knew you’d turn into my personal paparazzi, I might have left you at home.”

“Not a chance,” you said, snapping a quick shot as he adjusted his shirt. “This is history in the making, and I’m not missing a second of it.”

Lewis shook his head, but his grin stayed. 

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re incredible,” you replied. “Look at you, standing here in red. You’ve earned this.”

He softened, stepping closer and brushing his hand against your cheek. 

“I wouldn’t be here without you. You’ve been my rock through everything.”

“You’ve always had it in you, Lewis. Ferrari didn’t just pick anyone. They picked the best.” you smiled at him.

A team member called him over, and Lewis pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before walking away. 

You stayed back, watching as he greeted the crew, his charm and confidence lighting up the room. 

Of course, you pulled out your phone again to capture a few more shots of him. 

He belonged here, and it showed in every move he made.

You were happy to be taking pictures of it. Maybe you will make a photo book with all of them.

This day will be a big day in history.

Later, you found him in the garage, standing in front of the scarlet car that now bore his number. 

He seemed lost in thought, and you couldn’t resist wrapping your arms around his waist from behind.

“You’re really loving this proud-wife role, aren’t you?” he said, his voice full of warmth.

“Always,” you said, resting your cheek against his back. “This is a big deal, Lewis. I’m so proud of you.” You felt his heart beat and even heart it.

He turned to face you, his hands settling on your hips. 

“I’m proud of us. I wouldn’t be here without your support. You’ve been my biggest cheerleader.”

“And I always will be.”

Lewis leaned down, kissing you softly. 

You both heard the flash of your phone camera, making both of you laugh.

“Couldn’t help yourself, could you?” he said, shaking his head.

“Nope. I want to remember this moment forever.” you said as you took yet another photo making sure the car was in the background.

Lewis always loved it when you took pictures of him. You smiled so sweetly behind the camera each time. A proud and happy wife.

Lewis was very nervous for his first day. He wasn't huge with big changes, but he knew some were needed.

It was new, but you were very excited for the future and the new season. 

A new chapter in red.

[olderthannetfic]

Not sure if it’s okay to talk about this here but I keep seeing people (even in fandom spaces) whitewash what China has done and my grandparents are from Tibet and it is shocking to see so many of my peers outright deny what China did and is still doing in Tibet?? Apparently because they are communist what they did to Tibet is okay because Tibet was an “inferior culture” before China “fixed it”. Why the hell?? Why is it only Tibet it is okay to say this about?? Imagine anyone saying this about any other country?? The worst of it is if you say anything they accuse you of /racism/. How the hell are white people accusing Tibetans of /racism/ if we speak up? I’m sick of seeing it. Like it makes me feel physically sick. I can’t escape it even fandom spaces I see this bullshit.

--

How bizarre. I grew up seeing fundraisers and awareness-raising campaigns and shit about Tibet all the time. I even got dragged to some talk the Dalai Lama gave one time. Is this stuff not well known?

I guess you could say it's a bit rich for Americans to be finger wagging at other douchebag colonizers, but that's about the best you can say for China's various assimilationist, genocidal projects. Diversity win! Turns out everyone can be shitty!

I will say that I've seen a rise in tedious fandom meta as people are entering Baby's First Chinese Fandom, and I can do without lengthy lectures on how to spot a noble savage stereotype.

Anyone who honestly needs it explained that DMBJ and the like are full of problematic subtext is beyond help. Trashy adventure fiction from every country is mega guilty of this stuff. This is true any time SE Asia or Mongolia or Tibet feature in anything made in China. Just assume stupid takes before you even watch. If it's mainstream pop culture, it's going to live down to expectations like a Hollywood action movie fellating the US military-industrial complex.

[frillydolle]

not sure if you're still taking requests but low honor arthur morgan with a new/relatively new gang member who reminds him of mary? (this might be a self insert bc i got the same mole on my cheek that mary has help im going insane for this man

low honour arthur morgan x nervous female reader

꒰ 𝝑𓏲 ꒱ slight angst at the start , come onn u remind him of mary , super cute and sweet by the end!!

he didn't talk to u. well, he did, but barely. he'd talk to u only if he needed to, and u had no idea why. u didn't do anything wrong, did u? well, u weren't in all the action, but u were a helpful girl within the camp grounds, u even didn't get upset if ms. grinshaw was giving u trouble!

he'd stare at u, and if u catch him, he'd look away almost immediately. but u weren't sure if his gaze was of annoyance, or disappointment, maybe more... longing? heartbroken? u would go up to him but u just didn't know what to say, u know? he was in and out of camp time and again. although, u were determined to talk to him even if u were very intimidated by him.

he couldn't believe it. he couldn't believe how much u reminded him of mary and he hated it. sometimes late at night he still yearns for her, just to touch her once more, to feel her soft skin against his rough skin, to smell the wealthy perfume that she always used just once last time. but he knew he couldn't go back like that, they ended for a reason and grew a sort of resentment for that whole situation between them.

u were kind. he knew that, maybe, too kind. u were nothing like mary, really. there were even times u brought him a coffee with a nervous “for you, mr morgan.” that would leave ur lips, and he hum softly as a thank u, still seeing mary linton than yourself. or u would give him a bowl of stew with a small “there you go, mr morgan.” he didn't have anything against u either. he knew how hard u worked.

he was just back from doing a job in dutch's favour, it was easy, of course. nothing could kill the big, burly man they call arthur morgan. maybe a few o'driscolls but that's nothing for van der linde's most trusted associate. he's sitting on the edge of hid cot, head down into his journal as he writes another page about u. if invaded some people might think he's sweet on u but he really couldn't handle how u looked so much like her. that identical mole on ur cheek didn't make his feelings any better.

“... mr morgan?”

“evenin'.”

it was u. of course, it had to be u. he looked up and there u stood, wearing a white blouse that paired perfectly with ur light dusty pink skirt, u were also holding a rifle... why? why are u holding a rifle? what the hell do you have planned-

“why the hell do ya have a-” “for you! its for you... i overheard that u didn't find a rifle yesterday and while u were out.. i- i bought one for you. its nothin', really-” oh, u looked so anxious under his intense gaze and he didn't feel a little guilty about it, knowing that u had no idea about his past love life and he knew it wasn't ur fault at all. but he quickly pushed the guilt away.

u saw his gaze soften just slightly, realising that u bought a gun for him as u heard him complain about not finding one, and to maybe ease the one sided tension between the two of u.

“well, ain't u a sweetheart? thanks, sugar'.” “i just wanted to... i wanted to make your huntin' a little easier.” what a silly lie, u thought. u really just wanted him to talk to u a little more. but u smiled just a little bit, hearing a chuckle leaves his lips from ur words.

“maybe i should take ya with me someday.. would ya want that, dollface?”

“...'course, mr morgan.”

[luxiomahariel]

anyway i am about to pass the fuck out but i want to say one last thing:

all white trans people should read White Tears/Brown Scars by Ruby Hamad

caelan conrad discusses the book in their final video on the gender critical movement and how theres this trend in white feminism to prioritize misogyny over racism when considering oppression hierarchies, even though racism does SIGNIFICANTLY more harm than misogyny

i recommend listening to their video if you dont have access to the book but the perspectives of black people need to be centered, and i see a big issue of that not being the case in transfeminism, people weaponizing the statistics of murdered trans people even though the VAST majority of victims in any group of trans or nonbinary people are black trans and nonbinary people

both caelan conrad and ruby hamad do a much better of explaining and connecting these points to feminism and radical feminism than i can so be sure to listen to what they have to say