#'I understand you're upset but fall in line'

[bumblingbabooshka]

Janeway in 'Nothing Human' vs Tuvok in 'Resolutions' There's something here I know there is I can almost wrap my teeth around it.

[seungkwanniee]

pairings : boyfriend!seventeen x gn!reader

genre : fluffyy, lil angst

warnings : mention of food , half naked body (joshua) , cuss word (jun)

synopsis : seventeen coaxing their s.o. after making you upset before bed time

hyung line ,, maknae line [soon]

an : this is a request from anon, hope you'll like it ! sorry if this took awhile but school is giving me hard time that at the end of the day im not in the mood to write smt. I decided to separate hyung and maknae line so I could post more quickly to feed yall. ALSO as a directioner im DEVASTED these days so yeah that wasn't the best timing so start writing again, this also didn't let me to keep up with svt comeback shedule 😭

〔masterlist〕

SCOUPS 』

i think that seungcheol doesn't have an high pride at all, so it's pretty easy tho

and, come on, he is Choi Seungcheol how you can even resist to him

when after a long day and he finally comes back home he is straight coming up to you

even if you leave the spot immediatly, he will follow you around pouting

but your plans of ignoring him doesn't end well

you heart flutter by just hearing his voice because you are too in love with him

and when a smile accidentally slips out of your mouth, its when he knows you are all his

he picks you up, unconfortably laying you on his shoulders and walks into your shared room

roughly dropping you on the bed laying next to you asap

i know he has a thing for you hair, so he plays with it a lot

wrapping around his finger, smelling them and softly kissing them

has a BIG thing also for your neck so he never let it breath

JEONGHAN 』

he is not taking seriously any argouments and this makes you only angrier

but he really enjoy seeing you angry so anyway it doesn't matter to him

but when he thought he had enough for the day, he transform into a baby

he is following you around the house trying to cling into your side

and when you lay on the bed because it was almost midnight he find the best ways to cling you

he would immediatly hug you so tight without mincing words

KISSES ON YOUR NECK UUGH

driving you so insane with his angelic and innocent face

and his sooo cute voice saying 'sorry' nonstop

when you can't hold your smile in anymore, he is giggling uncotrollably still kissing you

JOSHUA 』

you two had a pretty bad argoument before dinner time because he is way too gentlemen with other women

so you just decided that he doesn't deserve your presence

you prepared your plate of food and insted of take a sit at the table, you walk straight into your room

hoping that he got the message and he will not sleep into the same bed as you

but after about an hour, when you finished your food and were already laying comfortably under your sheet, you hear a door opening

and who if not Joshua?

he doesn't care at all about your annoyed huffing, he is laying under the sheet beside you

and his goal is cuddling you until you fall asleep

you protest when you feel his arm wrapping your waist but his arms are just way stronger

he pull you closer to him as much as he can, he needs to feel you

when your back touches his naked chest, you can't do anything but relax under his touch

his breath against your hair brings so much comfort into you

he traces your arm with his finger until he hears your cute sleepy sounds

JUN 』

it's really rare that Jun is the one making the frist step after an argoument

he is really shy and he just feels so guitly that he made you mad

his precious baby ?!?!

he is usually awkward, the he will NEVER starts a cuddling session

so when you two have an argoument youre always the one that does the frist step

but today he made you way too angry and he can see it by the way you're not even trying to get closer to him

he wants to cry soo bad because he doesn't know what to do, he is worried that every move he will do is wrong

when the second night pass, and youre preparing to sleep on the chouch once again, he understands that he need to move the fuck up

he is in your shared room, where you were supposted to be with him, under the sheet cuddling nonstop

he nervously walks up and down wondering how to approach you in the best way possible

but it's easier than the tought

when he sits beside you on the couch, you were already all over him

because OMG THIS SHY CAT IS SO BRAVE

he is like 'oh, it was that easy?'

pinching your cheeks and nose kissing because he is starving

HOSHI 』

he absolutely hate making you upset but here we go

at frist he don't even got it, he just continue with his stupid jokes and mess around you

he always do this, like almost everyday, but today he touched a button that should've not been touched

he just frowns when he sees you walking awayt without daring a word

and he is like that for at least 30 minutes, you can almost hear the hamsters into his brain

he may need an help too, so he is on his way calling his best friend

and this sounds so stupid to him but hey he needs help with his beloved

bestfriend will 100% facepalming because it seems so obvious to him

but hoshi arrives here a little late

after he got what he did wrong he is RUNNING to you, jumping straight into your body

he lays on top of you kissing every part of your skin that isn't covered with blanket

also he would gently rub his nose against yours

kissing you under the blanket

WONWOO 』

he may seem awkward but this man is a reader so...

he exactly knows what to do and when to act out

he approaches you slowly, he frist want to know if he will get a slap from you or not

and if you seem way more calmer, he is cooking something sweet

looking cute in his apron and his black glasses falling down his nose bridge once in a while

he may not be the best at cooking but It's the thought that counts

and when his shiluette walks through the door with the sweet smell of pancake no shit

YOU ARE ALREADY ON HIS KNEES

he even forgot to take off the apron that hugs his waist

and his glasses getting fogged up because of the plate under is nose

he is way too cute, i want to cry

you dont even think about be cold to him when he lays under the blanket a little too far from you

you love his effort and his attention that he doesn't even need to cuddle you frist, you are the one starting the session

WOOZI 』

oh shit, did you have an argument? well forgot about him coming to you

man has a reaaally high pride, he must done it biiiig if he is the one approaching you after

thats why he is now complaining if sit by your side or just continue staring at your side profile

his eyebrows frown only makes his face looking cuter

i think he prefer think about a thing a hundred times before acting

and you can tell he is thinking a lot now

he is a man of words rather that physical touch, so he starts to talk to you after sitting beside you on the couch

and when all is cleared he surpirse you even more by clinging by your side

intertwine your arms and lay his head on yours

while his thumb slowly caress your hand and wrist

[luveline]

WOULD LOOOVE to see badass reader get jealous over someone flirting with spencer

ty for requesting ♡ —spencer reassures you when he catches the eye of a receptionist at the ocean city precinct. fem!reader, 1.3k

Hotch lives on coffee lately. Any type from any source, he doesn't care what it tastes like so long as it keeps him awake. You're similar, in that even if you hated it, you'd keep it to yourself. 

But you're frowning in disgust at your cup. Eyebrows wrinkled, lips in a fierce line. Hotch sighs and puts his hand on the back of your chair. "Are you alright?" he asks. 

You've never told him otherwise. "Fine. Thank you." 

"There's water in my bag," he offers. You won't meet his eyes. You probably have a headache. "And aspirin." 

For as long as he's known you and worked with you, you've been as you are now, quiet, stern, with little sense of humour at work and not much more outside of it. The only evidence of your soft heart is how you work like a dog, and how you treat your coworker, Spencer. He's your achilles heel, your tender spot in all the tough scarring. Hotch knows there's nothing anyone can do to make you feel better if they aren't him. 

Hotch turns on the spot to look for him. The case you're working on here in Maryland has hit a lul, and exhausted faces peek out from behind their desks at Hotch's looking. He searches for the short mop of brown hair that's required and finds it in an unusual place. 

Spencer has been waylaid by a receptionist. Glimmering eyes, shiny silver fingernails that tap the desk in front of her as she speaks, the receptionist clearly has Spencer hanging on. He takes a step back and she doubles down, her storytelling audible from across the room. 

"You'll have to see it for yourself, Dr. Reid, it's a sight!" 

Hotch looks at you from the corner of his eye. "I see." 

"Don't know what you're talking about," you mutter. You stand and tip your coffee into the bin, letting the cup fall in after it morosely. 

"Why don't you go and help Reid?" Hotch asks. 

"Help Reid what?" you ask. Your tone betrays you —jealousy, sure, that slight crisp to your words that must hurt on the way out, but worse is the weakness as your sentence ends. You're jealous, and it's upsetting you. "I don't think I want to help him with that." 

Derek swings into the sequestered space you've been using to operate and beams at you like he knows exactly what you're thinking. 

"Isn't it surprising how quiet he can be? Years of catching bad guys and he can't say no to a pretty woman," Derek says, giving you a knowing look.

You and Derek have a half-hearted rivalry in that he loves to flirt and you disapprove. Your soft spot extends solely to Spencer no matter how hard Derek tries to sway you, though as you and Spencer have gotten closer, you've softened.

Hotch thinks that Derek's teasing might erase any progress that's been made. 

"Morgan," he says reproachfully. 

Derek makes a who, me? face but quickly gives in. "Why don't you go save him?" he asks you. 

"He doesn't need saving. Spencer is a grown man who can make his own choices," you say quietly. 

Hotch bites his tongue. Thankfully, Derek speaks up, without any teasing. "Spencer's been expected to  know how to do things without any help since he was a kid. I really think he just doesn't know how to walk away." 

You look down at your hands. Hotch has been doing his job for a long time, and he can guess what you're thinking from a misaligned finger. You don't feel like you measure up to the woman at reception. You're insecure about Spencer's affection for you, because you can't understand why he likes you so much to begin with. Hotch has thought it about Haley, Derek of Savannah. It's a very human doubt.

"Spencer tends to stand straight," Hotch says, bringing the lip of his paper cup up. "Right now, he's leaning away." 

It's in as simple terms as he can put it without outright telling you that he really, truly believes that Spencer wouldn't bother with anyone who isn't you. That Spencer loves you in the young, all encompassing way, even though neither of you seems to have realised the depth of it yet. 

Confident, no air of the girl frowning down at her hands, you leave the nook to approach Spencer from behind. 

"Hi," Hotch hears you say, "you okay?" 

Spencer visibly relaxes. "Hey, I'm fine. Uh, Y/N, this is Anabelle. Annabelle, this is my partner, Y/N." 

"Partner?" Derek asks. 

It's news to Hotch. Perhaps news to you, if the way you take his hand is any hint. It's like you've never held it before, and Hotch knows you have, he's seen you linking pinkies under tables. 

You strangle his fingers with yours. Spencer doesn't move an inch.

"She was just telling me about the sightseeing you can do here. Have you ever seen the world's longest worm on a string?" he asks you. 

"Hi, Annabelle," you say, turning to Spencer with poorly masked whiplash. "We're gonna try narrowing the search radius." 

"Oh, right." Spencer lets go of your hand in favour of putting a hand behind your shoulder, saying his thank yous and goodbyes to Annabelle before guiding you back to the makeshift BAU base camp. "What took you so long?" 

"What took me so long?" you ask.

"I thought you liked me!" Spencer says, teasing, his voice pitching higher. "I didn't know how to tell her I've already read the pamphlet she was quoting. She seemed nice though, right?" 

"She seemed nice, Spence," you agree, a little wobbly still but a thousand times less sullen than before. "I– of course I like you, you know I like you. Right?" 

Hotch is proud of Spencer for how remarkably he responds. Spencer puts his body between you and Hotch and Derek where they're standing to offer you the privacy you prefer, dropping his voice to match your tentativeness. "Yeah, I know. I was kidding. I think they'd have to reassess my position on this team if I didn't know that." He grabs your arm, thumb pressing into the crook of your elbow. "Are you okay?"

"I thought maybe she was flirting with you." 

Spencer shrugs uneasily. "Maybe. It wouldn't make a difference to me. Do you know that?" 

Your head dips down. Hotch can't hear what you say, honestly, he doesn't want to know. Eavesdropping on the people he cares about in their unhappy moments isn't something he makes a habit of, but it's hard not to hear Spencer's response. "Don't say that," he murmurs. "That's not true… We'll talk about it later, okay?"

You clear your throat. "Yeah. Whatever you want."

Derek doesn't hide that he's been listening very well, pulling a crime scene document up to his eye line as you and Spencer pull apart. Your eyebrows furrow into a glare, but it's Spencer who says, "What?" 

Hotch bites back a smile. Derek grins and holds his hands up in surrender. 

"Just nice to see you taking care of my favourite girl," he smarms.

"Stop. You're extremely unprofessional," Spencer says, helping you into your seat unnecessarily.

"And you're not?" Derek asks, gesturing to his hand where it lingers behind your shoulders. 

You finally chip in, apparently back to your regular self. "Only one of us was responsible for a unit wide HR mandate about inappropriate behaviour." 

"You cannot keep bringing that up." 

"Why not?" 

Hotch takes a sip of his tepid coffee. He'd rather not get involved. 

[prythianpages]

Love Me Like You Do | Cassian

cassian x love witch reader | summary: Cassian has a bad mission and you're there to comfort him.

warnings: fluff, angst

word count: 1,887

a/n: Just something short and sweet I wrote after getting stuck on another part for this series.

Heart thudding madly against your chest, you stood at the gates of the High Lord’s riverhouse. The grand ironwork arched above you, intricate designs woven into the metal, casting shadows that danced in the late afternoon sun. The air was filled with the scent of blooming jasmine, mingling with the cool breeze coming off the nearby river.

You were tense, fingers curling and uncurling against the cute, pink cake carrier you held. A strange feeling that was becoming way too familiar for your own comfort settled into your stomach, spurred on by your concern for Cassian.

Your letters had gone unanswered for the past week and a half. You hadn’t seen him since before that, and worry began to gnaw at you. Had you done something to upset him? Or worse, had something happened to him?

It’s why you had baked a chocolate cake to have an excuse to check up on him. Taking a deep breath, you finally gathered the courage to press the buzzer. After a few moments, the gates were opening. Your legs moved almost on their own, carrying you up the cobblestoned pathway lined with neatly trimmed hedges and colorful flower beds.

As you reached the doorsteps, the door swung open, revealing the Night Court’s High Lord. Rhysand was as captivating as ever, donning that signature smile of his that seemed to hold a thousand secrets. “Y/n,” he greeted you. “What a pleasant surprise. Please, come in.”

"Thank you," you reply, stepping inside the grand foyer. "I, uh, made this for Cas…”

Rhysand’s smile softened, his violet eyes twinkling with a warmth that eased some of your tension. You couldn’t help but wonder if he had ventured off into your mind or you were simply that easy to read.

“Nyx will be disappointed it’s not for him.”

“I’ll make sure Cas shares.”

“He’s not going to,” Rhysand chuckles but all amusement leaves his face as he turns his head slightly. “He’s in his study. Third room to the right. He might be in a mood. He hasn’t spoken to us much these past couple of days. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you. Maybe you can figure out why he’s been avoiding us.”

**

When you reached Cassian's study, you paused, taking another deep breath before gently pushing the door open. 

Cassian stood in front of his desk, papers strewn about. His head was lowered, his dark hair falling over his eyes as he leaned his palms against the wood. His wings drooped slightly, their usual proud arc diminished. 

His head perked up at the sound of the door. “Go away, Rhys,” he said, voice rough, as if he hadn’t used it in hours.

“It’s not him.”

"y/n?" 

You offered a tentative smile, despite the fact his back was turned to you. "I brought you something.”

“You should go.”

Setting the cake on a nearby table, you approached him slowly, giving him time to tell you to go away. If he did, you would do so. But his silence let you know that despite his words, he didn’t want you to go. 

You moved behind him, your heart aching at the sight of his tension. Cassian didn’t talk about his role as general in the Night Court much. Though he was proud of his title, he preferred to leave work at work. You knew enough to understand how jarring and exhausting his job could be—a never-ending demand to keep the Night Court’s warriors in check and ensure their readiness for any threat.

The last time he had visited your shop, he spoke about the mission he had been dreading. One that involved visiting multiple Illyrian war camps and restoring order to the recent disturbances in Illyria. The unrest there was a knot of conflict and simmering resentment. Another never-ending chaos

It was clear to you now that, that mission had gone as he expected.

Without a word, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, knowing just how much physical touch meant to him. It was Cassian’s main love language, and among the first things you had learned about him. You rested your cheek against his broad back, careful not to brush against his wings.

He stiffened for a moment, but then he relaxed into your embrace. You held him close, feeling his shoulders slowly unclench as you let the quiet of the moment stretch between you, not knowing just how warm and grounding your touch was to him.

“I’ve been worried about you. It’s been awhile since you visited my shop or responded to my letters. I thought you were upset with me or something happened to you…”

He let out a deep sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. It’s been…a lot. I didn’t want to burden you–”

“You’re not a burden, Cas.” You interrupt gently. “I’m here for you.”

Cassian rested his hand over where yours were crossed. You immediately pulled away from him, turning him to face you, lips pressed into a frown as you took in the bandage wrapped around one of his hands that went all the way up to his arm. The frown in your brow deepened when you also took note of the healing bruise on the left side of his face. Instinctively, you reached out a hand but Cassian turned his head and your hand fell back to your side.

"It's nothing," he says dismissively.

“Does it hurt?”

“No.” Cassian replies but when you reach out for his injured arm, fingers gently grasping his hand, he winces.

You move his hand closer to you, gaze narrowing as you assess the bandaging. It appears to be clean and fresh–no hint of that metallic scent of blood. You decide it’s best not to unravel it as whoever treated his wound already did the most one could do. Instead, you bring his hand to your mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his bandaged hand.

“y/n, what–”

“A kiss makes everything better,” you explain, smiling when you see your lipstick left an imprint on the white bandaging. Pink stardust rose from the lip stain, traveling up and down his arm, enveloping in a magic bandage of its own before seeping into the one right below it. It draws a shudder from Cassian.

Your eyes meet his. “Would you like me to kiss that bruise of yours?” You ask, tone bordering on playful.

“I’m okay,” Cassian says, voice slightly strained as he tries to maintain his composure. He decides to redirect your attention.  “I didn’t know you had healing powers.”

“It’s not so much healing, it’s really just alleviating some pains.” You tell him with a small shrug. “I should look into some healing potions and spells some more for your sake. It won’t be as great as the healers but something is better than nothing, right?”

Cassian just stared at you.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion at his intense gaze.

Cassian blinks, tearing his gaze from you momentarily as he becomes suddenly interested in your bright, pink shoes. “Eyes, a nose, a mouth…”

He looks back up, catching the way you roll your eyes. It draws a smile from Cassian. A genuine one. 

“Rhysand says you haven’t spoken to them much recently,” you say, the name of the Night Court’s High Lord still tasting foreign to your tongue. You turn one of the chairs in front of the desk to face him before settling in. You nudge his boot with yours, silently prompting him to do the same with the chair behind him.

With a sigh, Cassian slumps into the chair across from you, his usual confidence replaced by a weary demeanor. “Is that why he sent you?”

“No one sent me. I brought myself here and that chocolate cake over there.”

Cassian’s eyes light up, a spark of his usual charm returning, making you laugh. He turns his head, following your gesture. Using your magic, you float the cake carrier gently onto his lap. “Baked it myself,” you grin proudly.

“So it’s not edible then?”

“Rude!” you exclaim, flicking your wrist and sending a sprinkle of pink stardust his way. He coughs, the glimmer of your magic enveloping him briefly in a sparkling haze. “I had Moxie taste test it, so it’s very edible.”

Cassian chuckles when he opens the cake carrier to see that a slice was indeed missing.  Comforted by your words, as that young apprentice of yours was the pickiest eater, he inhales deeply, taking pleasure in the rich aroma of chocolate that invades his senses.

But the pleasure is short-lived as your pink magic closes the cake carrier with a loud snap. His face falls slightly, and he looks at you with a mix of curiosity and caution.

“Why have you been avoiding your family?” You ask and with a bit of hesitance, you add, “and me?”

Cassian shifts in his seat. He looks down at his hands, his fingers tracing the edge of the cake carrier. “They have their own tasks to attend to, own burdens to worry about. And you? I fear I have troubled you enough with my problems. I can work through this on my own…”

You ponder on his words with a small frown. Cassian was strong-minded and sharp. You knew he could handle his own problems, but that didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to. He was also kind, caring, and selfless—qualities you admired about him. But sometimes, he was so selfless that he left himself out of the love he had to give.

“Cas, no one loves you like I do. You’re no trouble to me at all. You’re always there for everyone so let me be here for you.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, taken aback by his sudden change in tone. “What do you mean? I’m serious. I’m your friend.” Your voice is tinged with concern and a hint of hurt.

“Friend.” Cassian repeats the word, his tone filled with an emotion you can’t quite place. 

“Yes,” you say, sensing his contemplation. He looks away, his jaw tightening and you can't help but shrink back into your seat. “Do you not want me to be?”

Cassian looks at you, those hazel eyes meeting yours. You catch the way his throat bobs. “It’s not that,” he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper. Your heart skips a beat, his words hanging in the air between you. But then he shakes his head, as if to clear his thoughts.

“I love being your friend.” 

“Then what is it?”

“It’s nothing…” he trails off, the weight of his words making them feel inadequate. “It’s just, you can’t always be there for–”

“Nonsense,” you interrupt firmly. “I’ll always be there for you.”

For a fleeting moment, the vulnerability in his eyes is raw and unguarded, as if he’s been caught in the storm of his emotions. Then, he nods, a small, grateful smile tugging at his lips. 

But the lingering sadness in his gaze tugs at your heart, even more when he asks, “always?”

You smile warmly, reaching out to trace a finger over the center of your chest, just slightly to the left. “Cross my heart.”

a/n: This takes place sometime after you meet the IC. Sorry, I keep skipping around. I just got stuck on writing that part. So if y'all have any ideas lmk. You can find a sneak park here though.

also, if you've asked to be on the tag list and your name is below but you didn't get a notif, lmk! for some reason, some of the tags haven't been working. If you've asked to be on the tag list and don't see your name below, please let me know!

series masterlist

series taglist: @mrsjna , @shadowsingercassia, @acourtofbatboydreams, @rcarbo1, @mvidaaaa ,

@stuff-i-found-while-crying , @lipstickmarks, @yamisukehoe , @mp-littlebit , @thecraziestcrayon,

@talesofadragon, @ceoofyearning, @anuttellaa, @breadsticks2004, @chicken-fifi

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna

[brekker-by-brekkerr]

There's no way you can convince me the writing for Eloise in part 2 of season 3 was good.

We're expected to believe that Eloise Bridgerton, who gets so upset about injustices to women, who cares deeply for her friends, would hear about Cressida's issues and be like "hmm yeah sucks to suck."

And people can't say it's because Eloise is only concerned with herself because we've seen her get so upset about the plight of other people, we've seen her going and engaging with conversations outside her circle, we've seen her empathizing with Theo and his circumstances, we've seen her trying to hunt down LW to help Pen back before she knew the truth.

JUST THIS SEASON we saw Eloise go to Cressida's house to check on her because she noticed that she was acting off. So you can't even tell me Eloise doesn't care about her. I feel like the writers are trying to gaslight the viewers in part 2 to thinking Eloise didn't ever care that much about Cressida when WE LITERALLY SAW THAT SHE DID. Cressida even says Eloise was a great friend to her.

Yeah, I understand that Eloise has a lot going on right now, and so to some extent, I could see her not being as present for Cressida as she needs. That happens. But the level to which they made Eloise act like she doesn't care is so insane and is clearly just to prop Pen up.

Eloise heard Cressida tell her about her circumstances so she should understand why she's doing what she's doing.

It just felt like such an insane 180 for Eloise to turn around and suddenly be like "Cressida is a viper" and "our friendship was falling apart anyway" and "I should never have trusted her," when the last thing we saw before part 2 was them BEING GOOD FRIENDS!! And when Cressida hadn't done anything bad, she just claimed to be LW RIGHT AFTER she had explained to Eloise how messed up her circumstances were and that she needed help getting out of them.

I get that the show was going to put Eloise and Pen back together because they have such a clear bias towards her character, but did they have to decimate Creloise in the process? Is Eloise not allowed to have multiple friendships?

Like, Pen can do all these terrible things and cry and be like "sorry about that" and it's fine El and her can be besties everyone will love her and forgive her. But Cressida was sometimes mean (and the show goes to lengths to show us how she became that way, even explicitly spelling it out with her mother's comments about how she raised her to believe in "every woman for herself" AND shows Cressida acknowledging her mistakes and showing true change and growth) and lies about being LW and she's dragged through the dirt, she's "the absolute worst," every single character says awful things about her while we see snippets of her in this dark awful house with her life falling apart and this is supposed to be something we root for?? Literally why. Why even make Cressida sympathetic if this is what you're going to do with her.

It feels so out of pocket for Eloise to be saying Cressida is soo horrible and etc. etc. when we SAW their friendship before. We saw Cressida taking in what Eloise was saying and making changes, we saw Cressida challenging Eloise's beliefs and making Eloise self-reflect. Eloise got a peek into how awful Cressida's home life was and into the kind of good person Cressida could be and that's just suddenly thrown out the window with such little support to back it up.

Even if Creloise just HAD to stop being friends, weren't there better ways of going about it? Couldn't they at least have waited till after the fake LW paper came out bashing the Bridgertons for Eloise to break off the friendship? Yes, that was Cressida's mom writing that, but Eloise wouldn't know that and that would more logically line up with Eloise's random coldness towards her.

Still, why exactly do they have to stop being friends? Why can't Eloise have different kinds of friendships, especially one like hers with Cressida that challenged her, one where they mutually helped each other become better people? I love that Eloise is going to go off on this adventure to Scotland and meet other people but could she not also have retained her friendship with Cressida??

I would have loved to see the Eloise I know and love in part 2 teaming up with Cressida to help her, scheming together, doing everything in her power to help her bestie because that's who she is. That's what we should have seen. Maybe it would take her a second to get there, since she was already wrapped up in the drama with her brother and Pen, but she wouldn't just completely brush off her friend. She would do something.

And I could go on about how messed up it was for the writers to make it pretty clear how bad things have become for Cressida and then make her face the most consequences ever, while Pen gets to ride off into the sunset all happily ever after despite doing things 1000x worse than anything Cressida ever did. I'm actually disgusted.

[evielmostdefinitely]

y/n calls him coriolanus…he’s not pleased.

smut ahead :) contains: spanking, dom!coriolanus, bratty!subby!reader.

"... and you are not to drink from any bottle that i have not provided for you, do you understand?" coriolanus followed you around the small apartment, fingers working open his collar with a huff.

you reached for your earrings, fighting back an eye roll. he'd been nagging you since the moment you exited the party. a list of infractions, corrections that needed to be made by you.

"there have been rebels about, and i will not have you poisoned." coryo snapped, an icy gaze that bore into the back of your head. your slumped shoulders, rounded with defiance and annoyance- like he was boring you. "are you listening to me?"

"yes, coriolanus." you snapped, an edge to your tone that had him bristling with anger, fist clenching at the use of his full name. not the loving endearments you always gave him, the nickname he allowed you to use with him.

the room went still. you knew it was bratty, that was half the reason you did it, but you also were annoyed. the chill in the room had you fighting back shivers, and you didn't dare turn around. you knew if you did, he'd be glaring at you.

"i beg your pardon?" coryo gritted. you tensed, feeling his radiating heat of fury from behind you.

you were torn. part of you wanted to obey, fall into submission at the mere sound of his tone. the other part of you was buzzing with excitement, thighs pressed together, throbbing with the thrill, the temptation of pushing him a little further to get what you want.

"what?" you played coyly, turning to look at him as innocently as you could over your shoulder. "i said i understood, coriolanus. what-"

coriolanus' hand seized your jaw, pulling your gaze to his furious one, his own jaw flexing fury. "have you forgotten yourself? talking to me in this manner?"

you blinked at him, rounded eyes that looked so sweet. lips twitching as you tried to fight back a smile. "why are you upset," you paused, heart skipping with excitement. "coriolanus?"

the final straw that had coryo yanking you out of your seat, a bruising grip on your arm as he hauled you over his knee. skirts of your dress flipped over your head, his hand relentlessly raining down over your bottom, fury filled slaps to each cheek. you mewled, squirmed, pressing against his leg to raise yourself, only for coryo to push you back into place. you knew he could see the arousal between your legs, slick with excitement, the throbbing making your mind blank.

when you were sniffling, mascara running down to the rouge on your cheeks, coryo stopped, shoving you into the mattress, impaling you with his cock. splitting you open with every sharp jab and roll of his hips.

"you don't ever disrespect me in that manner? do you understand?" coryo sneered, your hands pinned above you in his grip. "you refer to me how you're supposed to, or you will not refer to me at all."

you whimpered at the threat, mind swimming with pleasure with each punishing roll of his hips. "do you hear me?" coryo sneered, hips snapping into yours, a jab so sharp you could feel it in your heart.

"yes!" you squealed, eyes already glazed, still teary from your spanking.

"yes, who?" coryo challenges, head tilting to the side. he stilled for a moment, hovering above you, looking down the slope of his nose at you.

you blinked, gaze meeting his. "yes, coryo, i-i understand." you whispered.

he smirked, satisfied to have broken you, got you back into line.

[stxxryvoid]

˚₊‧꒰ა Silly Things That They Do ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Genshin Impact

✧ Silly (and sometimes annoying) things that they do, but it's okay you love them anyway <3

✧ Featuring ✧ Childe, Heizou, Kazuha, Kaeya, Venti, Kaveh, and Itto x GN! Reader (Separate)

✧ Content Warnings ✧ Some swearing

✧ Childe

"Rise and shine sleepy head!" No further explanations needed.

He'll roll you up in your blankets for no apparent reason and then leave before you can escape the soft prison he put you in.

If you're going to jump on the bed he'll mf snatch the pillow and you fall on the bed itself.

When he's cooking he'll def shape the food into cute shapes.

He'd probably find something you're looking for and say he doesn't know where it is, but a while later will give it to you so you can praise him and give him a kiss.

Comes up from behind you and puts his hands over your eyes saying: "Guess who?"

Tells you to stay out of trouble when he's gone even though anything you do will never amount to the shit he does when he's working.

✧ Shikanoin Heizou

Kicks your feet under the table like he's a damn child.

Anytime he does something he expects a kiss as a reward.

He could literally open a jar you couldn't open and expect a big kiss and cuddles.

If you ask him to make you coffee he'll definitely make it!

You just won't get it unless you get up yourself because you only asked him to make it not bring it.

But if you ask him next time to bring the coffee he'll bring the whole ass coffee pot bc you didn't ask for it in a cup.

Will blame you for him waking up late on a work day when he's the one staying up late to work on cases.

Gets genuinely offended when you tell him no fried food bc it's not good for him.

He does a ">:(" and gives you one-worded responses for an hour.

He's not mad he's just the biggest tease to exist on Teyvat.

Start getting actually upset and he actually feels so bad and does anything to make it up to you.

✧ Kaedehara Kazuha

Comes up behind you without making a sound says "Hi." and scares the living daylights out of you.

If you catch him doing smth he'll use such poetic words you can't even understand to get out of the situation.

Starts spitting poetry out of nowhere.

It could be dead silent between the two of you and he gives you a romantic poem.

If he's cooking he will put food you do not like in there but hide it so well it tastes good to you.

While you're eating he'll stare at you like 🙂

Then you realized you fell victim to eating smth like brussel sprouts again.

If you're working he'll deadass show up in your office or smth.

Like how??

No notification from your coworkers and you js look up he's there.

Kazuha 10/10 horror movie killer material, silent footsteps, appears out of nowhere, unsuspecting, and has a sharp weapon

He knows so many cats like wtf

A cat comes up to him he pets it and says "Hi, cat name." AND DOES IT W SO MANY CATS??

✧ Kaeya

Okay I know I called Heizou the biggest tease but I changed my mind.

If Heizou is the king of teasing Kaeya is the all knowing, all powerful, all mighty god of teasing.

Flirts with you at the most random times.

Could be fighting some monsters he decides its the best time to try a new pick up line.

And it's always the best one's too, but he decides to save the horrendous ones for completely normal times.

He has no life.

With no cavalry to captain he can't be the cavalry captain so with nothing to do most of the time he's glued to your hip.

He'll play with your hair in front of someone no matter how many times you smack his hand away.

Claims he needs some random article of clothing on him fixed just so he can have your attention.

Y'know that thing where you bump your hip on someone to make them trip/fall over?

He does that.

If you stumble he'll act like he did nothing and turn the other way.

If you fall and it's hilarious he'll laugh before helping you up.

But if you fall and hurt yourself he'll actually feel bad and help you up and make sure you're okay. He's at your beck and call for the rest of the day.

He needs attention.

It's like taking care of a big cat.

✧ Venti

Also does the hip bump thing.

If you go to find him after he does some drinking he could be in the most random ass position ever.

Laying back down legs up against a building.

Passed out on some hay in a crate.

Sleeping under a bench.

You can't even be surprised anymore.

His feet are actually icebergs.

When he takes off them stocking things he puts his feet on you and your body temperature decreases by 20 degrees.

Styles his hair and yours in the most random ways.

If you wear makeup he took it once and ended up looking like a barbie doll got into a street fight and lost.

Sings you songs about the most random shit.

He turned milk and cookies into a song.

Meowing back at cats is normal.

But he barks back at dogs and really puts the enthusiasm in it..

✧ Kaveh

Plays with his food.

Moves it around on his plate to form shapes before he actually eats it.

Sometimes is drinking while he draws things and was painting once and ended up drinking the paint water on accident.

He spat it out and started rubbing his tongue while you and Al haitham were like 🤨

Thought all he loses are his keys?

Nah everything he's touched has been lost at least once.

He's still looking for some things that vanished into thin air.

He sometimes talks in his sleep.

Mostly about you, cats, dogs, and food.

He's actually so knowledgeable on beauty products??

You could be buying something for skin care and he snatches it and says "No."

"Don't buy this..." and yaps on for a good minute.

Then he'll go and pick up smth else for you and buy it for you and you're js left there shocked.

✧ Arataki Itto

This man is the epitome of silly.

He also cant whisper for shit.

Do NOT shit talk someone to him all of Inazuma will know within 30 minutes.

He has so many spare combs.

A backup comb for his comb a back-backup comb for the backup comb a back-back-backup comb for the back-backup comb and so on...

Don't give him hot sauce. Just don't.

Do NOT mess up his hair. He'll be ":(" the entire day.

He knows about lots of good food.

Can he cook any of this good food?

Hell no.

If you cook him anything he'll be so happy and eats every last crumb, would probably eat the plate to get all the macromolecules of the food.

(If he even knew what a macromolecule is)

If you make him something it's treasured forever and the only fingerprints on it are yours and his.

Definitely owns a diary somewhere.

-Stxxry

[merchelsea]

took care of your girl - max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen + fem! driver!(charles' gf) reader

summary: charles is too busy celebrating his P2 to care about your home dnf, but max is not.

author's note: this is my first time writing for tumblr and im so excited!! i cant believe i actually came up with is.

word count: 4k+

PART TWO

"ugh, you're so boring." charles sighed.

he had been trying to convince you to go celebrate his p2 with him for the last five minutes, but you were just not in the mood for a party.

i mean, this was monza. ferrari's and alfa romeo's home race, but your home race too. you had big expectations for this one.

of course you didn't mind ending up 6th, like you thought you would 4 laps before the end. you just wanted to cross the line. but you didn't.

at lap 50, you collided with sargeant, who was trying to overtake. the williams got to the end, and you didn't. you thought it was so unfair, but there was nothing you could do.

you had done an amazing race, managing to go from 15th to 6th. it was more than enough after a terrible qualifying, and you couldn't understand how someone took that from you in a heartbeat.

you were so angry. all you wanted to do was cry. but you still got out there with your best smile and watched the drivers getting to the podium.

first one to get up there was lando, who once again did a great race for mclaren, ending up 3rd after an 8th in qualifying. he was a great driver and everyone could see it.

then they called charles. the man in ferrari red stepped into the 2nd place with the brightest smile. he was really happy, and so were you. you were happy for him, genuinely.

you smiled and applauded just like everyone. you were so proud of your boyfriend. of how he managed to get that thing they call a car from 13th to 2nd.

the tifosi were out of their minds proud, and so were you.

in that moment, just for that one tiny amount of time, all you felt was happiness.

and then they called max verstappen. you sighed and applauded when the men got to his place. your smile never fading, but growing wider. you were beyond proud, more than what words could ever achieve to show. so you just stood there applauding.

you knew it was boring to see the same person win race after race, always getting to step on that ridiculous number one. but he deserved it, and you were delighted to be able to see his dreams coming true. because he was talented, that’s something no one could deny, but he worked his ass off.

you didn't get to watch them celebrate tho. because, unfortunately, someone called you in the garage.

lewis was already there when you arrived, and he was the first to talk to you.

"hey listen, i'm sorry for what happened. you deseved that 6th." he pat on your shoulder and you smiled, thankful.

"it was a great race, just a bad outcome." you sighed after hugging him casually like you always did after a race. "you nailed it today, congrats!" he thanked you and toto arrived, wanting to talk to both his drivers.

"you were absolutely amazing out there today. every person in this team is very proud." he smiled. "of both of you." his eyes fell on you when he said that. he knew you well, and he could tell you blamed yourself for what happened, even if you didn't show. "the incident with the williams was a shame, but you two fought like hell. i am proud of you."

you faked a smile and thanked toto. his words were comforting but they didn't do much. you were still upset.

that's why the first thing you did when you were free was lock yourself in your driver room. letting your body fall into the couch you reached for your phone to focus your mind on something that was not the race.

but after a little, you heard someone knocking in your door.

"mon amour? it's me. can i come in?" you got up and unlocked the door, facing your smiley boyfriend. he greeted you with a wholehearted kiss, showing you how happy he was for his race.

"hey baby." you smiled to him. "you did so good today, i am the proudest girlfriend in the world." you whispered into the tight hug you pulled him to.

"thank you!" he said simply, not even acknowledging your race. you weren't surprised because he never did, but it was your home race. and somehow you thought that changed something. "so, does the proudest girlfriend in the world want to come and celebrate with her man?"

and that is just how you got into this 'fight'.

"i'm not boring. you know that i would go any other day." you tried to explain yourself. it was kind of embarrassing, having to explain that to the person who's supposed to love you and understand you. "i just dnf'ed, charles. in my home country. after a freaking perfect race. that´s not easy."

"aren´t you happy for me?" he asked, looking at you with a fake sad expression.

"of course i am. you know i am." how could you not be? the monegasque deserved this more than anything.

"then come. why don't you make an effort for me? you know how important this is. and i want you to be by my side." he begged.

he didn't understand you. god, he didn't even try to. he was the one who wasn't making an effort here. he never made, and that's what you've been realizing for quite sometime.

"i'm sorry charles. but not today. you go and enjoy for me." his fake expression suddenly faded to give room to a frown.

"fine." he sighed and left, slamming the door on his way out.

you stood in the drivers room, this time not trying to avoid any thoughts. in fact, you were analyzing the race. from the start to the moment you went out.

all of your overtakes were perfect, not once colliding with other cars. you knew that because you were in the car, but you were looking for something to blame, some other touch that could've damaged the car slightly. but you never found it.

so you cried. you cried looking at the roof of the room. you cried your heart out because you were this close to proving people wrong, you were this close to making your people proud.

you cried until you heard another knock on the door, this time around being the last mechanics in the garage, telling you they would go for dinner and would come back later, leaving you alone for sometime.

when they left, you went to take a look at the car. and observing it, you realized what went wrong. but instead of putting your mind to rest, you started to think about what you could've done to prevent it.

"what are you doing here?" you heard a familiar voice, and turned to face its owner. the dutch was looking down at you, who cried with her head between her knees, in front of her racing car.

max had changed into his normal people clothes, whilst you still wore your racing suit.

"it's my team's garage. what are you doing here?" you asked, highlighting the 'you'.

"i was on my way and saw you here. what happened? why are you here on your own?" he asked. genuine preoccupation in his eyes. you could recognize any expression of his. any and every.

"nothing happened. i just wanted to be alone." you lied. straight up lied into his eyes. that was not something you were used to nor something you liked to do. but you did. and you knew he didn't buy it for a second.

"oh yeah. you decided you wanted to be alone, sitting against a wall, crying, for three hours after the race without showering and changing, just for fun? sounds like something i would do." max ironically said.

"look verstappen, i just wanted to be alone. and i still do, so if you could go away i would appreciate it." you said, getting up to walk to your room.

"don't call me verstappen." he says seriously. you never call him verstappen. "and i'm not leaving you alone after today. i know better than to do that." he follows you, leaning in the door frame when you are about to close the door in his face. "where is your so called boyfriend?"

your left eyebrow shot up as your head turned to look at him. his face remained serious, waiting for an answer.

"celebrating his podium. aren't you supposed to be celebrating your win?" you asked carefully, trying to get him to leave.

"maybe." he crosses his arms in his chest as you turn off your laptop and put it in your bag.

"then go." you said simply, collecting your stuff to go home. you wanted to stay there, but alone.

"not unless you're coming with me." he changes his position again to be more comfortable as you sighed, making him know you were getting tired. but that didn't change anything for him.

"leave, max." you said firmly, looking at him. he mimicked a 'no' with his mouth. "why?" you tried to get out of the room, but just as you passed through the door, the dutch caught your arm, making you look up to face him. your height difference was not too big, but it was still noticeable.

"because i know you, and leaving you alone after a dnf here, is a mistake i don't want to make." he let go of your arm, but you didn't move. "a mistake i'm not going to make." you stepped back, and proceeded to pick up your stuff. "go shower and get dressed, i'll get your stuff. if you are going home, i'm going with you."

"no. i don't want you to come." he laughed.

"care to guess who doesn't give a fuck, darling?"

"do not call me darling. and you are not coming, i wont let you in." you threatened, knowing you would never do such thing.

"then i hope you have money for a new door." he was determined, and you knew he was damn serious about not leaving you alone.

"i hate you." you laughed and as soon as the sound got to his ears his mouth formed a big bright smile. oh, what that laugh did to him. it was even better than winning races.

"if that means i get to come, i'm more than happy. now go shower." you did as he said, going straight to the bathroom.

once inside, you never thought about stuff like not giving the interviews you were supposed to, or how charles never once said he was proud of you.

the only thing you thought about was max, in your room, picking up your stuff so that you could go home with him. and the fact that it wasn't strange nor weird, it was fine.

from the beginning, you two had a special connection with each other. that's why you became best friends so easily, and also why you fell in love with him.

but he never showed reciprocity, so you thought it was a one way thing. god knows that if he had gave you one minimal sign, you would've never ended up with charles. the thing his, he didn't.

since your red bull day's, in his eyes you were just friends. or at least that's what you thought.

cause it turns out that the world champion is a way better liar than you could imagine. or you are just blind. because the signs were always there, you just doubted yourself enough to be oblivious to them.

it was the little things. like you being the first person he talked to after every freaking race. or how he was always in his best mood for you, but only for you. how he always said he was proud of you after a race, it didn't matter if you ended up first or last. he always came to you, hugged you tight and whispered "you were amazing, i'm so proud of you".

that's the kind of thing you noticed but never payed attention to. and that's exactly why you are with charles now. because he, on the other hand, was direct and shoot his shot.

he didn't love you and you didn't love him, but you felt good with each other, and it was nice having someone. you both knew it from the start, even if you denied with every thing in yourselves. it was just so obvious now.

you got out of the bathroom with hair still wet, but already dressed in your black sweat pants and your light pink top. max had picked every single thing, leaving your room exactly how you found him.

"let's go?" he asked, after a couple of seconds observing and admiring you.

you nodded in response and tossed your car keys to him.

"you drive, i sing." he picked them and laughed.

"deal." you made your way to your, brand new, white mercedes in a comfortable silence. but when you closed the doors, he broke it. "i don't want you blaming yourself, williams got a 10 second penalty for a reason. you were amazing, i'm so proud of you."

"you always say that." you smiled, looking at him.

"because it's true. i am proud of you."

"i know, and i am proud of you too. it's just that you always say the exact same thing." you noticed. max was sure you never took note of his words, but he didn't know how much they meant to you.

"i guess it became kind of our thing now." with now, he meant the past 3 years. you just nodded and smiled, searching through your phone for a good song.

"hey max?" you called, still unsure if you should mention it. he muttered something you didn't understand due to being focused on your words. "you know you don't have to do this, right?"

"do what, y/n?" he asked, fully focused on the car as he started driving.

"care because he didn't." straight to the point, we can see some improvements.

"omg, you can be so dumb sometimes." he talked, out loud, to himself. you didn't understand, so he might just be right. which is something you'll never say.

"huh?" you muttered, confused. he was indeed right.

"i care. i always do. i would have cared even if he had some decency in that shitty brain of his and had, at least, taken you home. do you actually believed i would have to go through the mercedes garage to get to my car?" he laughed, your face full of confusion, reflecting what was happening inside of your mind. "i was looking for you. i thought charles had took you home, or out, but i had this little thing inside of me telling me to check."

"oh yeah, that was me sending you telepathic messages." you joked. "thank you for coming, max. this is just a very important day for charles."

"whatever helps you sleep at night, y/n. and i would always come, any day and anytime." max took his eyes off the road to face you.

"are you saying racing is not important for him?" you focused on the first sentence.

"i'm saying he would do this on a regular tuesday. and i'm saying i would come after winning at zandvoort if you were needed me." he sighed. "you should stop lying to yourself." now was your turn to sigh. just as he layed his eyes on the road, your right hand went through your hair.

frustration, anger, sadness, loneliness.

"i'm not lying to myself, you don't know him like i do."

"i may not, but i know you. better than he ever will. you don't love him, and i bet my career you never even managed to lie to him about it." ding ding ding, max verstappen, the mr. knows it all was right once again. you are mad at him for knowing you so damn well.

"if i didn't, then why would i be with him?" you tried again. fooling max was getting more difficult by the day.

"we both know why." he said to your eyes, turning his head when he was done talking. damn, max.

the rest of the ride was completely silent, you wanted to say something but you couldn't. you simply could not. you couldn't even put on some music to relieve the tension.

all those questions coming to your head like gun shots "does he really know?" "why didn't he say something?" "does he see me the way i saw him? the way i still see him." every single one of them wounding you, creating a whole you couldn't close.

he was silent as well, his mind a little quieter than yours. that had been stressing his mind ever since you told him about charles, and now he couldn't keep it in.

not when the girl he loved was left alone by her boyfriend for a fucking party. he would've never do such thing, max would've been by her side, letting her know how proud he was, how loved she was.

the dutch was so angry, it took him everything to stay silent in that ride. but he did it, because it wasn't your fault. he was mad at charles, for not being a good enough boyfriend. he was infuriated because the monegasque couldn't make you happy. he was out of his mind because the greened eye ferrari driver took the place in your life that he wanted. that, in his head and heart, was supposed to be his.

the first glimpse of voice came from his mouth, when you were already in your apartment. monza was the only racing place you had somewhere to call home.

"come here." he opened his arms, when you looked at him. you expected him to talk, you wanted him to talk, but that was the only thing max said. the only thing he wanted in that moment was to feel you close, feel like he was protecting you from every bad thing.

of course you went, you would always go. his armes embraced you almost immediately and you closed your eyes, trying desperately to feel him closer. you could try to deny it but you missed him more than anything.

"i'm sorry." you apologized. none of you knew what you were talking about, yet at the same time, you both knew exactly what you meant.

max didn't respond, not with an "it's okay" nor a "not your fault". he simply kissed the top of your head while stroking your hair, and you knew it was okay. everything was fine between you two.

maybe not fine, but they were okay for now.

"break up with him." he half advised you half asked you. everyone knew that was the right thing to do, but he wanted you to do it for other reasons too, not just because it was right.

you chuckled into his chest, causing him to push a little just to face you.

"you talk like it's easy." he stepped back, separating the two bodies completely.

"breakups aren't easy, but yours, particularly, is. it's as simple as it sounds." he went back to the serious features.

"it's still a break-up."

"breakups only hurt when you love each other. do you love him?" you stood silent as he stepped closer. you watched as he brought his hand to your chin, caressing him once there's contact. "tell me. do you love him?"

"i don't." you let out as a sigh. instead of smiling, like you expected, max's face did the exact opposite.

"then why are you with him?" he asked in a low, tired voice. he was trying to find an explanation where he was not in the middle. he wanted to know that he was not involved in the why you weren't happy.

max knew, deep down, that you felt something for him. he always had that feeling. but, in his defense, you didn't make it easy for him. hiding it, locking the feelings in a deep part of your yourself, where no one could find them. bringing up some made-up-boy whenever you felt like you where being to obvious, constantly telling him he was like a big brother you could talk about that sort of thing. you had covered up the truth pretty damn well.

but even with all of that, he knew. something in him just knew. and all he could think about now was how he could've changed something, how you wouldn't be with someone who didn't deserve you if he had just done something.

he had tons of opportunities to ask you out on a date, or tell you how he really felt. it was just hard to believe you would feel something for him sometimes, so he waited for you. he waited until it was too late.

"i like him." you lied again. it was the second time you lied straight into his eyes in such a little time. that pissed him off. you should never feel the need to lie to him.

"bullshit. we both know that you're with him because i never risked losing you for how i felt. i never got to shoot my shot, and he did. that's why you are with him."

you lowered your head, both hands going to your face immediately. you felt like crap.

"what do you expect me to say?" you asked, raising your voice. your eyes finally fell on his.

"i don't expect you to say anything. i just want you to cut this thing you two have going on." his gaze never left your face, not even when you weren't looking at him. "you don't deserve this. you deserve to be happy. to be treated right. you deserve to be loved right."

another sight and then silence filled the room. no one could say anything.

"just..." he started, leading your eyes to look for his. "do you still..?"

"yes, max" you shot automatically, your voice sounded like a cry, but that didn't matter.

he sighed, relieved. and then stepped closer again, pulling your body to his, in a hug. he let you cry against his shoulder, while he cried silently against yours.

you pulled away to look into his eyes, smiling silently. even being like this, you had just found out that this was no 'one way thing', he felt the same.

"stop smiling. i'm fighting over here not to kiss you." you laughed, that was the best thing you could've heard that day.

"don't." you searched for his hand, taking it into yours once you've found it.

"i would love to, believe me. but as much as i want this, you have to be fully single first." his eyes were so bright that you were sure they could glow in the dark. you always loved his eyes.

"i love you, max." you whispered with the biggest smile on your face.

"i love you too." he whispered back. your smile growing impossibly wider.

max kissed the top of your head before leaving your room. it was a bit past 4a.m. and you had just finished watching a rom-com movie you liked.

it's fascinating how you two fit so perfectly. it's like you've been handmade for each other.

of course that, on his way out, max had to find charles coming. because that's just your life.

the dutch and the monegasque spent a little of time just staring at each other.

"what are you... what did you do in there?" charles asked breaking the awful silence that had been installed. you could hear everything from the inside of the room due to the paper thin walls.

"i took care of your girl." you would pay to see charles’ face that moment. "not so yours anymore, i guess." max said with his most serious face. he definitely won the idgaf war.

"not so mine anymore? mate, what are you talking about?" his confusion was deeply amplified by the alcohol in his system.

"i don't know man, figure it out." the world champion responded and walked out.

he knew that the moment he walked out charles would enter that room and lay in the same bed you were. but he didn't mind, he trusted you fully. and on top of everything, he knew that no matter what, he was the one you loved.

so when he closed that door, he had a smile on his face, knowing damn well he would open her soon.

[octopiys]

Lost and Found

iii.

Prev | Next

You wake in a bed that is not your own. You start, pushing the covers off and practically falling off the bed and scramble towards the door. You pray you don't find it locked.

It swings open with ease, and you run face first into a very concerned Simon, who moves his cup of tea up and out of the way so it doesn't spill anywhere.

"Woah woah, there, what's got yer knickers in a twist?"

"You- I was- I don't know how-" You gesture vaguely back to the bedroom, that was not yours, heart pounding in your chest as you fail to explain what was going on.

Scraggle weaves into your legs, purring as it brushes up against you. Pay attention to it. Please.

"Honey, listen." He says rather bluntly, steeling you into your senses. "Ya fell asleep on the couch last night. Didn't want ya to have a bad back this mornin' so I moved you to my bed, it was closer. Didn't stay in there, tucked you in an' left. Not that kinda guy."

You swallow, looking down to pick up Scraggle, who seems very upset that you have not given it nearly enough attention. Simon's eyes follow your actions, before you look up at him, and meet deep brown irises.

"....what kind of guy are you, then?" You ask softly, toeing the water. You knew next to nothing about him. Other than his name, and he rescued you, like he rescued everything else in his house.

He lowers his tea, and slurps it loudly, accidentally-on-purpose, and you smile.

"Fed the dogs this morning. Breakfast is in the kitchen." He grunts, before turning away. You notice how he doesn't answer your question. You wonder if he doesn't know the answer.

Scraggle yowls. It wants food too. Give it food. Give it.

You make your way down the hall, trying to make sure that you look at least somewhat presentable.

The kitchen smelled nice. You took a little bit of everything, but not too much, still on the fence. You'd take what you can get, but not enough to leave a noticeable mark.

Simon's sitting at the table, typing something into his phone.

You didn't have one of those. Didn't have much use for one, either. If you needed to look something up, which, apparently, is something people do, you use the house computer.

It's the start of a sunny day, warm light bathing the kitchen through the windows above the sink. You sit down across from Simon as you eat quietly. Some bits you leave untouched. Not your favorites.

"Simon." You start softly. "Where did you sleep last night?"

"Couch." He grumbles, but not in a mean way.

"I thought you said-?"

"Yeah, honey, I'm used to it. Slept in worse places." His eyes crinkle like it was some inside joke you didn't understand. But you feel like you've already asked too many questions this morning. If he senses your hesitance, he doesn't pay it any mind.

You stand and leave to wash your dish.

Simon asks if you want to go to the market with him. He shows you your list. Tells you he won't leave your side. You can pick out the sauce, and the seasoning.

You're far enough away. Its been enough time. Its been a few weeks. You can go. You can go out for an hour. Nobody would notice. Nobody would see you.

You trust him, right?

"I have some stuff to do around here.... can we make it quick?"

"'Course. 'Course we can." Simon nods, and for a moment, you feel like he knows more than he lets on. But it slips, and you're back at square one.

You grab your work boots, a dark pair that Simon had gotten you two weeks ago. They've got some mud on them, but around here, it was impossible to find someone with perfectly clean everyday shoes.

It's almost twenty minutes into town. That's reassuring to you, distance enough away from folks you don't know, nor want to concern yourself with. It'll be something you could make a day out of, further down the line.

The car ride is quiet.

"....y'mind if we stop at the bookstore?" Simon grunts out as he pulls into a space outside of the supermarket. "Don't have to, but I was plannin' on..."

"That's fine." Simon clocks the way your eyes light up, and you try to play it off, and there's a fuzzy, warm feeling in his chest watching you. Instead of facing it, he gets out of the car, and opens your door.

You stick real close to his side as you walk into the store, practically calling yourself his shadow. He gets a cart. You pull out your little yellow-pad note of a grocers list. He glances down at it fir a moment, then back up to scan the aisle signs above you.

"Right then. This way."

Luckily, today there were no crowds in the market, and they had everything you needed. You were beginning to feel a little excited, like warmth in the tips of your fingers. You liked cooking, and you liked starting from scratch.

Must be a figurative and a literal thing, huh?

As you walk up to the check out, you push the cart. You pass the last aisle, and stop abruptly. Simon, not paying attention, runs directly into the cart, and then looks down at it like it personally offended him.

"Y'alright, honey?" He asks, his hand ghosting down near your waist, the curve of your back, a strong, secure point. His hand is warm.

You cock your head, and turn the cart down the last aisle.

Then you come back with a bag of marshmellos in the cart. Simon raises an eyebrow, but doesn't judge you for it.

"Wha'ssat for?" He asks, joining you at your side as you push the cart towards the check out, determined.

"I read on the computer that raccoons like marshmellos. We have treats for the cats and the dogs, but with Tres in the family now, I mean, he's just a little guy, and little guys gotta have treats too, sometimes, right?" You ask, looking up at him.

There's a fire in your doe eyes, like no matter if he agreed with you or not, you were taking those goddamn marshmellos to little baby Tres. He smirks, peering down at you, before squeezing the curve of your shoulder assuringly, before putting the bag of marshmellos up on the check out conveyor.

Yeah, the little guys gotta have a treat, too.

You've been a little less skittish, recently. Less Bambi-like, no longer wobbly kneed and hesitant– at least, not terrified to ask anymore. But it was little touches that got you out of it, small things, like the brush of a hand, or knocking his knee to yours, or wiping flour off your cheek.

Simon has his own story, and he knows you have yours. He doesn't expect you to question his, nor would he you, but he's seen the marks. He's seen the way you wince, like a few mornings ago, when you limped into the kitchen and brushed off his concern and braced the day without a complaint. Just grateful to have food in your belly, and a warm roof over your head. It ignites a fire in his chest, one that burns right through his heart and lungs, knowing that someone or something out there did this to you, and you wouldn't tell him who it was. Anger. He'd never been quite good with that. All in due time, he supposes.

He knows you've seen his scars, too. The trees are starting to grow over the house, and the way the branches grow are unstable. He's gotta cut some of them back. It's broiling out, so he shuns his shirt as he works on the roof, careful not to put his foot through a sensitive spot in the roof, or startle the raccoons, and he forgets, because he doesn't have to care when he's home.

You bring him lemonade when you see him come down. Your eyes linger on his bare skin, damp with sweat, and he feels... Like you see him for more than he appears, standing before you. Your eyes catch on each jagged mark, each curved line cut and carved deliberately into the patchwork of his skin. It's strangely sensual, how you both stand in the kitchen with your eyes on one another, simply cataloging the indents of people he once knew, and couldn't care enough to remember, because remembering replaces this. This soft moment, your eyes misted over, hip resting on the cabinet.

Maybe he overlooks the way that you seem to be looking at him for more than he is, and he sees you, too. Your eyes practically glow in the golden light of the afternoon, skin softer now with safety, a net he provided. The creature in his chest purrs at the sight of it, the softness of you in your entirety, knowing that it was his doing, a strange kind of possessiveness there that made him want to sink his teeth in, that would drown a man if kept unchecked.

But he's always been a good swimmer.

The worry in your face is still there, but no longer carved as deep. Your hands intricate, short nails nearly bitten off, lined with your own struggle, your own story, as your fingers grap around the cool glass of lemonade, and he doesn't think he's ever longed to be an inanimate object more. He blinks, scared for a split second that when he opens his eyes, this domesticity would be gone, a faux scenario in his fragmented, wretched mind, and yet, you're still there.

He found you. You haven't gone anywhere.

What's that they say? Finders keepers?

He doesn't plan on letting you go, any time soon. And he's not one to lose, either.

Your lips are soft, pursed as your eyes glance up to meet his, half lidded. Minx. You don't have any idea what you do to him.

You look like you're about to say something-

Scraggle yowls, headbutting Simon in the leg, and the moment breaks.

And you laugh, and he does too. He feels dizzy.

The bookstore is on the corner of the block. He loaded the bags into the car, refusing to let you even lift a finger.

You glared at him. He let you shut the trunk.

A small bell twinkled overhead as you walked into the dusty bookstore. There were a few plants that hung in the front window, the decorated neon sign buzzing.

There were a few tables, along with a coffee maker and a pastry case, one of those glass ones like you see in a bakery. Anywhere you look has at least one plant, and a stack of books. There were quite a few shelves, and you couldn't quite tell what was what. There was a staircase in the back, winding up to a second floor, where there were more shelves, but a sign near the top read 'Music', so you assumed that it would be CDs or something. It was pretty overwhelming, as your eyes adjusted to the soft lighting and the smell of lavender and... something you couldn't quite place a name to.

He watches your eyes dart around, shoulders tense, before you blink slowly, and take a deep breath, before pushing forward.

Pride causes him to smirk, as a woman appears from behind the counter.

She doesn't say anything at first, watching you scan the shelves, and quickly make your way over to the little fantasy section she has. She glances over at Simon, who approaches her but doesn't take his eyes off of you.

"Who's the new thing?" The woman asks, careful to keep her voice low.

Simon huffs, the question rolling off him. "Where's the Scot, Peach?"

"He's-"

"Hey, LT!" Exclaims a very loud man from the top of the staircase. He makes his way down the steps, before clapping Simon on the shoulder.

Your curiousity piques, as you look over a shorter shelf to watch Simon and this mystery fellow interact, hidden away in this little alcove of book stacks. Your hands find purchase flipping through the yellowed pages of an old book, one you remember from a long, long time ago.

They share a few words, nothing you can make out, really, before all three turn and look at you.

You duck, not wanting to be caught dropping any eaves.

"Been through the wringer that one has, havin' ended up wit' ye." Johnny comments, crossing his arms over his chest as you duck.

"Fuck off, Soap." He grumbles, starting to regret this idea. "You want pasta or not?"

"We-" A manicured hand slides over Johnny's mouth, his partner electing to ensure he doesn't screw up dinner plans.

"We'll be there if it's all good with the missus." She says smoothly, recovering as she glances over towards you.

Simon hums, and she sees he still hasn't taken his eyes off you. "Something going on with you, Riley?"

Simon hums again, not fully paying attention.

"Oi, earth to Ghost!" Johnny snaps, before realization dawns on him. "Oh- oh, yer down bad, aren't-"

"MacTavish, if you say another word, I will cut out your tongue and feed it to you."

".....note taken."

"How's Lord Scraggle doing?" Always good for a save, that Peach.

Of course, Peach wasn't her real name. But it's what Soap called her. It's what everyone knew her as. But, like everyone else, they had their own reasonings. And Ghost... Well, he respects her enough not to ever get in her way. Ever.

Simon buys you the old copy of the Hobbit you'd been clutching. You're shyly introduced to his friend Soap, and Peach. You introduce yourself too, and Peach repeats you to make sure she gets it right. In a bold move, you look to Simon and invite them to dinner. He shrugs, and looks to them. Peach tells you yes, and Soap looks like he's been kicked before he agrees, too. He looks familiar. You're not sure from where.

You talk about your book on the way home. Simon listens to every single bit of it, even if it might seem to you that he isn't. He doesn't tell you that he's read all the books too. If he could forget that he has, just to listen to you tell it to him as if it's his first time, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

The raccoons are under your- Simon's porch when you both get home. You squeak in excitement, rummaging through one of the bags on Simon's arms before sitting down in front of the porch, with your hand outstretched, a small marshmello sitting at the tips of your fingers.

Then, the smallest little grabby hand reaches up through the slats in the boards and takes the marshmello, tugging it down through the porch. You think you could cry.

Simon huffs a laugh and pulls you back to your feet as you both go inside.

And Scraggle dubs you to be a traitor, feeding other things than the cat. After all, is Scraggle not the most important thing in your life? Seriously, this cat is starved for attention every day, what a horrible, horrible house, death to mother and father, death for- oh, bowls are full again! Okay, maybe Scraggle can forgive you. It's already forgotten what it's upset about.

masterlist

[sugarydolli]

dilf!bakugou fluff (/ω＼) :.*+

slightly pudgy cheeks flushed red with anger and tight vermilion peer up meeting your face of a sour mixture between regret and irritation. A heavy sigh fell from your lips, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Now why on earth would you attack your classmate?"

A call from Kazu's third grade teacher surprised you, hearing that your eight year old assaulted another child at her school. To learn later that the boy stole another student's bag of chips, your child bravely stepped in, pouncing and punching him until separated.

"It's what dad told me to do mom! He said you're supposed to defend ci-vili-ans!" stomping a little while testing the last word on her tongue. You started to regret your decision to allow her to train a little with her father, thinking that it would help her be a little more responsible with her quirk.

You couldn't find the words to even begin to scold her, especially when her pout was so damn cute, ash blonde pigtails loosened from all your hard work this morning, tight lips replicating Katsuki's infamous scowl, plump little fist wave back and forth as she desperately tries to explain herself. No, you weren't strong enough to scold her.

But maybe someone else is.

୨୧

Crayola crayons fall onto the wooden table as soon as heavy boots come barreling through the door. Soft little paddles ring against the tile, Kazu jumping up and down to shortly being swooped up into Katsuki thick arms.

"I heard someone was a little shit today"

Two thick fingers pinch plump rosy cheeks, his tone indicating he was proud rather than upset, you scoffed at the scene, arms folded against your chest turning off to the television—promptly starting to make your way upstairs.

"Taking up after me, huh brat-" cutting a piercing look shot in his direction killed the words on his tongue, he cleared his throat—setting Kazu down, Katsuki kneeled becoming eye level with her.

Kazu's cheeks flushed, that same scowl creeping back onto her face. Her small hands pressed flush against her chest.

"You know better than to fight your classmates, What's gotten-" Katsuki knew that look. He knew what's next before it even played out, and he loathed it.

Katsuki's attempt at a "I'm so disappointed" face morphed into worry, worry to a sour mix of misery and rage. It's not foreign for a father to have trouble scolding his baby girl and Katsuki was no different. A strong part of him screamed 'fuck this, kid probably deserved it anyway', words clawing up his throat viscously only to be forced back by the reminder of expulsion if she does it again.

"I just wanted—wanted to be jus' like you."

Tears threatened her lash line, lips formed into a pout, puffed up cheeks. A chubby fist swiped fat tears quickly, a thumb wiping off the next.

"Kazu—baby. Listen, I know you meant well but, bein’ a hero doesn't always mean beatin' people up.” glassy scarlet peer up at him, bottom lip still trembling. “It doesn’t..?”

“‘course not, it’s about, uhh, problem solving and protecting people using methods that doesn’t always include your hands.” A thick hand ruffles the top of her hair, Kazu’s tears no longer flowing.

“One day, when you are a hero—best hero ever—you’ll understand.”

"But for now brat, just let me handle all the real villains!" Kazu cheerfully nodded, cheeks burning bright as before, a short silence fell over as Katsuki anticipated his next question—gazing up at the stairs, searching for your figure before turning his attention back.

"Did you get 'em good? Right in the eyes like I showed you?"

enjoy!! (๑>◡<๑)

[strawbsstarz]

Drunk: Draco Malfoy x reader

kind of rushed but I was inspired

warning: none just fluff :)

~

2:30 am, the phone rings. Ring Ring! Draco groans at the noise, tossing in his bed, his peaceful slumber disrupted. He was about to turn his phone on silent when he caught a glimpse from his squinted eyes at the caller.

"Hello..?" He greets groggily, sleep still present.

The other line is silent, "...Hello?" He mutters again. *Hiccups* Draco, confused, takes his phone off his ear to check if the call was still there. As he was about to start talking again, the other line finally speaks.

"DrACoOo!" A burst of giggles following.

"Y/N?" He rubs his eyes trying to get rid of his tiredness, "..are you drunk?"

Another hiccup, "let's facetimeee...I missed youu~"

"Do you want me to come over?" He asks prompting himself up on his elbows.

"No!" Followed by another hiccup, "it's cold out."

"You're outside?" The sleepiness, no longer present, he gets up quickly and rushes to the front door while on the phone with her, "Who are you with? Where are you?"

The call echoes with giggles, "I don't know...I'm losttttt"

Draco falls into a panicked state, why was she drunk all alone in the middle of the night? "Stay on the phone with me, princess, okay? I'm coming right now."

He hears her giggle and hiccuping not giving a clear answer, he quickly checks her location and jogs over since it's nearby.

"Ooh Kitty!" Y/N exclaims excitedly, *hiccups* The phone can be heard falling on the ground, Y/N scooping the cat up in her arms, "Wanna comee home wit me?"

Sprinting now, he says "You're joking right?"

Draco sees Y/N hovered around a corner by a wall holding up a cat and petting it. He hears the cat's purr and meow on the phone. Despite being out of breath, he rushes to her.

Before he could scold her, Y/N puts down the cat and sprints to Draco engulfing him in a hug, "Draco!"

He wraps his arm around her waist, while the other is trying to keep her steady in her stance. As Y/N pulls away she excitedly does small jumps pointing to the cat,

"Look Draco!" She goes back to the cat scooping it in her arms, "Can we keeep him?"

A little taken aback, he shakes his head slightly, "No, Y/N, we're not keeping him, you're drunk right now."

"bUT he's so preciousss," she smiles as she pets the cat, "who's a good kitttyy?"

Draco sighs, "No, Y/N we can't keep a cat.."

She pouts at him, and as if the cat followed in her suit, meows and ironically, gives big puppy dog eyes at the boy.

"Fine, fine!" He reluctantly agrees, "Let's get you home okay, hold my hand so you don't fall"

While the two walked home together, Y/N still visibly drunk starts talking to the cat, "I'm gonna feed you soooo much food and loveee you and snuggle wiht you!"

Draco, slightly annoyed but finds it adorable, shakes his head as he grips tighter on his hold of her hand, "Hold tightly, Y/N, we can't have you tripping and falling here."

Y/N slowly trying to understand the situation, let's go of Draco's hand, "Umm excuse you! I have a boyfriend!" She states with her eyes half open.

In disbelief, Draco just stands there, "....I am your boyfriend."

Tilting her head, she asks, "What's your name?"

"Draco.."

"Prove it!"

He pinches the bridge of his nose, she's gonna be the death of me, "Love, I need you to hold my hand until we get home."

Y/N shakes her head, pouting "I can walk perfectly fine by myself! Plus, my boyfriend would get upset if he saw me with you, he'd definitely kick your ass!"

Draco puts his hand on his hip, "First off, you were stumbling and tripping over yourself a minute ago. Second, I am your boyfriend."

Y/N giggles as she stares at his face, going closer, "You look like him.."

He sighs.

"But he's soOO much more handsome *hiccups*"

"Are you trying to flirt with me right now?" He questions, somewhat amused.

"No! I wouldn't dare cheat!!" She says clutching the cat closer to her as it meows, as if it was agreeing.

Another sigh, Draco grabs Y/N's face in his hands, "Y/N, look at me."

With half lidded eyes, she looks at him, tilting her head in confusion, before getting into another set of giggles.

"Focus on my eyes, darling." Following his instructions, she does as she's told, mumbling grey.

"Good, now look at my hair." With one hand holding the cat, she lightly combs her fingers through his hair, "it looks blonde? noo! platinum?? Final ANSwer!"

He chuckles, "Now who am I?" He asks. Her eyes move their way down on his face, admiring and analyzing their features, before landing on his lips, tracing her fingers softly.

After a moment of staring she pulls away to sneeze, "Achoo!" She breaks out in a fit of laughter once again, and this time Draco joins her.

"Draco!" She finally recognizes him, "I missed you!" She pecks his lips.

Draco blushes slightly, but chuckles to himself as he pulls her closer to him guiding her once more to go home, along with their new cat.

[catnippackets]

disclaimer: as a sex-repulsed aroace person myself--

on one hand, there is definitely a bit of a double standard when it comes to handling canonically queer characters like, from what I've seen in the circles that I frequent (if you've had different experiences then great but I'm just telling it how I see it). for example, you're morally reprehensible if you ship a canon lesbian with a man or refer to a canon bi character as a lesbian. people will be so angry with you. and it's understandable, since there's so little queer rep in comparison to cishet rep that when there IS a rare actual queer character, the unofficial rule is "don't take that away from them when you add more headcanons to them". like, respect that this one is REAL and NOT just a headcanon. I think it makes perfect sense to feel upset when people take that away, even if it is just fiction and not even canon to the original source. and yet, whenever there exists a canon asexual character suddenly it's all "oh well asexual people can still have sex so it's fine if we headcanon THIS canon sexuality as something different". it makes me feel so genuinely heartache-y and depressed to see ppl ignoring that aspect of a character.

and by "canon" I'm also including characters that were never specifically referred to with a label but are very obviously coded as something, because those characters will still get the "even if it's not stated it's pretty obvious!!" treatment when it comes to showing attraction to the same gender, but not when they DON'T show attraction to any gender. like aro and/or ace coding just doesn't count. I understand that it's kind of hard to represent an absence of something, especially when you're only implying it and not even directly showing it, but it's not impossible. there's a lot of characters that you could argue are aroace coded the same way you could argue a character is gay coded. obviously to a degree every queer identity gets disrespected in fandom and it's something you just kinda have to deal with, but it's easier to notice when it's something you personally relate to. I don't think it would bother me as much if we didn't have that unofficial "respect the canon" rule and everyone just went wild with whatever, but the double standard does genuinely hurt me, especially when I see people I thought were cool about this stuff participating in it. so whenever I see someone fiercely defending an asexual character it really makes me feel good, like I'M being defended, not a random fictional character that I might not even recognize the name of. I feel safe, like that person will respect ME.

THAT BEING SAID,

AS a sex-repulsed aroace person who enjoys thinking about the entire spectrum of intimacy and where a character may fall exactly on that spectrum, ALSO as a person who is aware that "asexual" simply means "does not experience sexual attraction" and not necessarily "is violently repulsed by anything sexual", sometimes I DO want to play out scenarios for my own enjoyment. sometimes I DO want to think hm I wonder where this ace character's line is, compared to a different ace character. I wonder if there is anyone who would be an exception for them, and how they could go about dealing with that exception. I wonder if they're favourable, neutral, or repulsed. if those aspects of their character aren't explicitly stated then what's to stop me from playing around with them and working through my own issues in a controlled and non-canon environment? if they have the same identity as me, I am way more likely to want to play around with them like a doll and perhaps play out scenarios that I might have thought about before but don't actually want to do for real. I'm not taking away their identity, after all; I'm just, in this scenario, imagining this ace character as an ace that might have sex on at least one occasion for whatever reason. either just to try it, or because they do have someone they'd make an exception for, or if they got bored enough, whatever the reason. it isn't quite disrespecting their truth unless it's explicitly stated either in canon or by word of god that it's something they're uncomfortable with. and to be honest, if I see another asexual creator headcanoning a character as somewhere on the asexual spectrum and depicting them in sexual situations, it makes me almost happy, to know that they're still acknowledging that character's canon identity and accepting and exploring the nuance that could come with it, even if I personally believe that this specific character would be repulsed instead of neutral or favourable. there's this understanding of "I'm doing a character study exploration thing", and not "I don't care I just wanna sexualize this character"

but I literally feel GUILTY when I want to write what is essentially a thinkpiece disguised as a fanfiction or original story on asexuality and take an asexual character (canon or coded) and involve them in sexual situations to explore different avenues of the spectrum. I feel like I'm betraying everyone who's like me and is frustrated with how aroace characters are treated within fandom. I'm like "am I being just as bad as those other people who will disrespect a character's canon sexuality just because they think that character is hot and want to ship them with someone? do they do the same thing with other types of queer characters? how does this reflect that person's view of people, if they're explicitly told someone feels a certain way and decides to ignore it for their own amusement? or is it just because they're fictional and not real people and I'm being really sensitive and thinking way too much into it? am I not doing the exact same thing? do I have more credence to explore scenarios like this because I am aroace and sex-repulsed myself and therefore have a pass to do whatever I want and it won't come off as a little weird the way it might if someone who's allosexual did it?"

and these two opinions are at war in my mind constantly. like both of them can and do co-exist but I still struggle to accept that lol

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

I don't know if you're accepting anymore requests for the Creator Baby Daddy thing, but if said baby daddy was a certain redheaded teetotaler that runs the Dawn Winery? 😗

Their grace had a

Firey headed child

Wc: 1k

As the soft sunlight seeps inside the room you open your eyes, a bright red mane moving softly up and down as it rests on your chest, its curls framing Diluc’s jaw and nose.

It seems like the finger you ran around his hair and cheek woke him up. “Rise and shine, little prince”

Bright red eyes look at you with tenderness and his lips kiss your sternum and arms tighten around your waist.

“We can cuddle for a bit but remember I have to leave after breakfast to Liyue” he nods but sighs against your skin “even after I leave you will be forever in my heart”

“And my heart will always ardently burn for you, your grace” he kisses your lips as he mumbles sweet nothings, both of you fully under the cotton covers and enjoying the last few minutes of time together.

“It's been quite a while, Diluc” you sit down on the stools in front of the bar, it's almost closing time and the few people left are gathering themselves to go home. Even Diluc was surprised to see you at this hour but he holds back from asking about it straight on.

“It's been almost three months, I think? I believe you were scheduled to return for the next Ludi Harpastum, in two more months” without hesitation he keeps the conversation going smoothly, so used to chatty drunkards going on and on and still expect an answer.

Looking at him doing the closing chores so focused delays your answer a few seconds, but honestly who could blame you? His white shirt was rolled up his elbows and the top few buttons were undone “Mhh there was a change of plans, for reasons I will stay a season in mondstat”

“I see… I guess you just arrived?”

“That is right, we hurried back and managed to make it here in two days”

Throwing the towel he was drying the whiskey glass with over his shoulder he leans forward, resting his back from standing for so long and causing a few stray crimson hairs to stick to his thinly sweaty skin, the warmth of the tavern almost making you break into a light sweat after a few minutes inside “Would I be so bold as to offer you a drink, your grace?”

“I would love it, just please make sure to not add alcohol to it”

He nods and turns to pour a small layer of grenadine in a glass “as you please”

“aren't you going to ask me why?”

“Why you don't want alcohol? I was just guessing you didn't want today”

“Well, it's partly because of that but there is also another reason” softly you lay a hand down on your lower belly, sure he would understand the implication.

“Upset stomach? Alcohol does irritate the stomach's lining” but when turns to pour orange juice he sees your deadpan expression and the hand between your hips, soon the connection is made “was that from…”

“Yes, indeed! I do hope your heart is still burning for me”

“Always, your grace” a soft smile grace's his face, if the candles were dimmer it might have been impossible to see. Closer to a gasp or a whisper he leans forward and swears “I would rather rip my heart out than to stray from you”

During the pregnancy his hands and sight seem to always find themselves stuck on your body somehow, a constant reminder to himself that you are safe and this is something nobody nor anything will be able to take away from him and even if they attempted he would fight to defend.

Any comforting words that you might attempt to soothe him with fall to deaf ears so it might be better to hold in the good news until you start to show to enjoy to the max your boundless liberty before making good acquaintance of the dawn winery and periphery, it's not like he would force you to! He would never dare to order you around, it's just his face that makes you the slightest bit guilty when you leave and travel alone. Even if you wouldn't consider four knights of favonius alone he still seems to hold resentment and mistrust.

People say that firstborns always look like their dads, nature's paternity test some claim, but regardless of how your baby looked (even you must claim that as soon as your beloved baby came out it was hard to find any resemblance with humans) the firey red fuzz on his head linking him to his father in a second. Not like Diluc doubted it for a second.

“This selection is a chardonnay” Diluc holds a white grape before smashing it between his fingers and giving it to your toddler to happily chew “it makes a wine of the same name” when the kid swallows he hands them a dark one and does the same procedure “this one is Malbec, a staple for most of our red wine” but this time he spits in back on the ground, seemingly too bitter.

“Why don't you stick to feeding him normal grapes?” You ask from the table under a shadow, sipping grape juice and reading a book.

“When he grow up they might want to work here and with so many types of grapes and things about the winery to know I should teach him young” he turns around from besides the vine, he from may you know where decided that he needed to teach your year old about the multiple varieties of wine grapes and their wines.

“Fine~ if you feel like you want to do it teach him, I doubt much knowledge will stick right now but I will be rooting for you here” he turns around to face the plant again and you keep watching his arms show from under the rolled shirt and how they tense when reaching for a new grape and the love with which he teaches his child, quite possibly reminiscing about his father doing the same with him.

[luveline]

is there any way we could get badass!reader x spencer? except he’s injured this time? how does she react?

tysm ♡ cw hospital / gunshot wounds. 1.1k

"You have to let me see him." 

"It's family only," the nurse says, shrugging sympathetically. 

You grit your teeth. "That's what I'm telling you, I am his family. We've been together for four months." 

"Sorry. Unless you're blood related or his next of kin, I can't let you." 

"Spencer's next of kin is in a sanitarium in Las Vegas. I don't understand why you can't let me see him." You're trying not to shout at her, rage trembling in your aching fingers. "I understand that it's night time, and that he was admitted alone, but he was shot, he's not sick, and I can't make him worse. Please. You have to let me see him." 

When begging doesn't work, you get mean. You'd be ashamed to admit you flashed your badge if it weren't for the fact that you have no shame when it comes to Spencer. Face flushed with heat from a good twenty minutes yelling, a different nurse escorts you to Spencer's room. 

"I expect my colleagues will be arriving soon," you say. "And I expect they'll be met with less resistance." 

The nurse smiles at you, as fake as they come, but you don't deserve a real one. You don't care. Breaking rules and bending policies means nothing to you while Spencer's laying alone in a hospital bed. 

His heart monitor beeps steadily. He's sleeping, waxy face crushed sideways into a limp pillow, his stomach a lump under the sheets where he's been wrapped. He was alone when it happened —no one, BAU or otherwise, knows who did it or why. The hospital didn't know who Spencer was until he woke up after surgery and told them himself. 

And you'd been sitting at home feeling sorry for yourself (and vaguely irritated) because he didn't answer your text that morning. 

It's not hard being vulnerable with Spencer. He's your widely known soft spot, and you're unashamed. But it felt like a mistake, constantly checking to see if he'd answered your text. Good morning, I know we're supposed to see each other tomorrow but do you want to come over and watch movies tonight? Let me know had felt like I'm pathetic and in love with you and my day revolves around when you're free.

None of that matters now. In fact, it's all embarrassingly small. 

You creep up beside his bed and reach out tentatively. His hair falls out of his face with the barest of touches. He's had blood wiped poorly from his cheek, orangey streaks lining his jaw. His undereyes are dark like he hasn't eaten for days, his veins spider legs stark against his eyelids. 

You put your hand on his cheek, rubbing it lightly. "I'm sorry it took me so long," you say, leaning down to kiss his forehead.  

Spencer stirs, a groan rumbling from the centre of his chest. 

"I thought that was you," he mumbles, his fingers brushing your elbow. 

"When?" you ask. 

"You were yelling." 

Yeah, well. You need to be disruptive sometimes. "They wouldn't let me in." You're not a big crier, just seeing him like this, knowing he was alone and probably scared, it has tears pricking. "Spencer, I'm so sorry." 

"Hey." He clears his throat, your emotion starting him into wakefulness. "Hey, don't get upset. It's okay. It bounced off of me–" You groan and he laughs, though he grabs your elbow quickly after. "Ouch. Don't make me laugh." 

"I didn't say anything." You pet his face. He looks pretty even when he's in a bad way. Your chest is a pit. 

"It barely touched me. They said my feminine hips saved my life." 

"Stop trying to make me laugh," you say pleadingly. 

Spencer holds your gaze. "Stop looking so sad and I'll stop."

"Are you hurting?" you ask. You know you sound awful, a scared tone that he's never heard from you before, and you try to tamp it down as a lone tear breaks free, streaking down your cheek. "How's your pain? I can make them give you more–" 

"I know you can. I'm fine now you're here." 

You lean down to kiss the tip of his pert nose. Careful, you kiss his lips, enthused when he kisses up. "I'll take care of everything," you promise. 

The door opens behind you. You give Spencer a last squeeze and find Emily in the entrance with a bag pressed to her chest, her hair windblown, shocked with worry. 

"Spencer," she says, rushing forward to hug him. 

He's in a hospital bed and still insists on comforting her as he'd done you, arms threaded over her shoulders. "Hey. I'm fine." 

"Morgan and Garcia want to be here," she assures him, standing straight. "They're trying to keep the site clean. Spencer, what the hell happened?" 

You drag a chair to his bed and sit on his right. You don't take his hand, he doesn't offer it, but the longer his story goes, the closer you find yourself. "I didn't even realise they were following me," he's saying. Emily nods with Hotch on the phone, listening intently, repeating anything Hotch misses. 

You know you should be strong. Brave. You should be paying attention to his every word, ready to take the rains and solve the case, serve retribution against whoever it is that thought they could hurt him, but Spencer looks so tired. You can't imagine being anywhere that isn't his side right now. A blood bag fills at his side, a catheter runs under the bed, an IV line feeding pain medication and fluids into him mottled the skin on the inside of his wrist with bruise. Sometimes you have to stay put.  

Emily hugs you before she leaves. You hug back. 

"If I knew getting hurt would make you accept love from your friends, I would've done it sooner," Spencer says. 

"If you ever get hurt like this again, I'll never speak to you," you say, bringing his arm to your lips and pressing a kiss to the crook of his elbow. 

"Sorry for scaring you." 

You lay your cheek on his arm, looking up at him through your eyelashes. "That's okay. That's fine. Wasn't your fault." 

Spencer drops his chin to his chest. "Do I look bad from this angle?" 

"No. You look just as nice as you always do." Your throat burns with sincerity. You might cry again. 

Spencer nods like he's reading something else from what you've said. It's not that you'd meant to imply a double meaning, but he must see on your face how relieved you are, and how terrified you'd been. He brings his hand to your face, ignoring his cannula, to wipe the dried tears from your lashes. "You look pretty, too," he says. "Just don't cry anymore." 

[alyrasturnz]

ONE STEP FORWARD THREE STEPS BACK? WITH ANYONE BTW

ONE STEP FORWARD, THREE STEPS BACK

❐ summary » in the tumultuous world of matt and y/n, nothing is ever straightforward. matt is a confusing guy, perpetually oscillating between cold detachment and fleeting moments of warmth. his unpredictable nature turns their relationship into a relentless rollercoaster ride, where every step forward is met with three steps back. y/n finds herself in a constant state of uncertainty, never knowing which version of matt she'll encounter each day, making their connection both exhilarating and exhausting.

❐ pairings » toxic!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » toxic!matt , sleeping with makeup on…

❐ a/n && w/c » this took a weird amount of time for me to write (4 hours.) • 3.44k

you glanced at your phone, the screen glowing ominously with matt's contact information. the weight of the moment settled on your shoulders as you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come.

with a trembling finger, you pressed the call button, the sound of the dial tone echoing in the quiet room. hope flickered within you, a fragile flame yearning for a warm conversation amidst the storm of uncertainty.

"hey, matt," you began, your voice gentle, as you carefully adjusted your grip on the phone, your fingers tracing the edges of the device. you took a moment to steady your breath, feeling the rise and fall of your chest, before continuing, "how are you?"

there was a pause on the other end, a silence that felt heavy and foreboding. the seconds stretched into an eternity, each one amplifying the tension that hung in the air like a storm cloud. “i’m fine, what about it?" matt's voice finally broke the silence, clipped and almost indifferent, as if he were brushing off an insignificant detail.

a pang of confusion and hurt shot through you, like an icy dagger piercing your heart. you furrowed your brows, the lines deepening as you tried to decipher the sudden chill in his tone. "are you okay? you seem upset," you asked, your voice laced with concern and uncertainty.

matt sighed, the sound crackling through the phone like a distant storm rolling over the horizon. "i'm fine. why do you always have to make a big deal out of everything?" he retorted, his words sharp and laced with an undercurrent of frustration.

your heart ached at his words, a dull throb of pain that resonated deep within. you struggled to keep your voice steady, fighting against the tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "i was just asking because i care about you," you managed to say, each word a testament to your enduring concern and affection.

"well, don't," he snapped, cutting you off with the precision of a knife. "i don't need you checking up on me all the time," he continued, his words slicing through the fragile thread of connection between you, leaving behind an echo of cold detachment.

you bit your lip, feeling a lump form in your throat, as if the weight of unspoken words was choking you. the warmth of the conversation you had hoped for was slipping away, replaced by an icy barrier that seemed insurmountable.

"matt, it's not about checking up. i just want to make sure you're okay. is something bothering you?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of concern and desperation, hoping to pierce through the coldness that had enveloped him.

"just leave it," he said, his voice now a mix of frustration and exhaustion, like the final crack of a weary branch under the weight of snow. "i don't want to talk about it," he continued, each word laden with a heavy finality that seemed to close the door on any further attempts at understanding.

the river of your relationship had encountered a stone, and you couldn't help but wonder how long it would take to smooth it over, if at all. you took a deep breath, trying to keep your own emotions in check, like a dam holding back a flood.

"alright, matt. i'll give you some space. but remember, i'm here if you need to talk," you said, your words a gentle current, offering solace and a lifeline amidst the turbulent waters.

"yeah, whatever," he muttered, his voice a mere whisper of resignation before the line went dead, leaving behind an echo of unresolved tension and unanswered questions.

as you ended the call, you felt a mixture of confusion and sadness, like a fog that clouded your thoughts. the conversation replayed in your mind, each word a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit, an enigma wrapped in layers of unspoken truths. you couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper was at play, something matt wasn't ready to share, a hidden current beneath the surface of his words.

you know that matt's got you wrapped around his finger, twisting your thoughts and emotions like a marionette on tangled strings. he's got you so fucked up in the head that your mind feels like a labyrinth with no clear way out.

each step you take seems to lead you further into a maze of confusion and heartache, where his influence looms like an ever-present shadow. you're caught in a web of his making, struggling to find clarity amidst the chaos he's sown in your heart and mind.

he could utter the slightest things, mere whispers in the wind, and they would still echo in your head for the rest of the day, reverberating like a haunting refrain.

you know that you've never doubted yourself this much, each word he speaks planting seeds of uncertainty that grow into a tangled forest of self-doubt and confusion. his influence lingers, a spectral presence that shadows your every thought, leaving you questioning your own worth and reality.

you love him deeply, with a fervor that consumes you, but you hate how you've surrendered so much power over your emotions to him. you desperately wish you didn't, but this tumultuous rollercoaster is all you've ever known.

he was your first love, the one who etched his name into the very fabric of your being, and now you're caught in a cycle of passion and pain, unable to break free from the hold he has over your heart.

people often say that your first love is the one love you'll never get over, suggesting that their profound affection leaves an indelible mark on your soul. some might mean that in the way they loved you so deeply, their memory becomes an inextricable part of you. but that isn't the case for you.

you know you'll never get over the pain he punctured through your heart, each wound a reminder of the emotional scars that linger, a testament to the anguish that continues to haunt you.

it was toxic. one day, he was fine, showering you with affection and attention, and the next, he would turn cold, retreating into silence and ignoring you as if you didn't exist.

this unpredictable oscillation between warmth and indifference left you in a constant state of uncertainty, never knowing where you stood, and further entangling you in the web of emotional turmoil he spun around you.

and maybe, in some masochistic way, you find it all exhilarating, like a twisted game of chance.

which lover are you getting today? the affectionate boy who showers you with warmth, or the distant stranger who leaves you in the cold? the unpredictability adds a perverse thrill to the tumult, a dark allure that keeps you tethered to the chaos.

»--•--«

you know that you probably shouldn't be doing this, especially after he already snapped at you, but here you are, standing at his front door. despite the rational voice in your head urging you to turn back, the pull of unresolved emotions and the hope for a different outcome have led you to this very threshold, a testament to the complex dance of love and longing that continues to ensnare your heart.

you pressed your lips together, a silent battle waging within you as you debated whether to knock. the hesitation in your heart mirrored the turmoil in your mind, each moment stretching into an eternity as you stood there, caught between the desire to reach out and the fear of further rejection.

this was a bad idea, and deep down, you were acutely aware of it. perhaps it would be wiser to postpone this endeavor until tomorrow, allowing emotions to settle and reason to prevail?

but just as you were about to leave, the heavens opened up, and a torrential downpour began to cascade from the sky, as if the universe itself sought to mirror the tumultuous storm within your heart. each raindrop seemed to echo the unresolved emotions and unspoken words, creating a symphony of melancholy that enveloped the moment.

of course.

you found yourself with no alternative but to rap upon his door, and soon enough, matt appeared, his visage darkening with a shadow of irritation.

"why are you here?" he inquired, his arms crossing defensively, a barrier to the tumultuous emotions swirling within.

“can i come in?" you inquired softly, your voice barely above a whisper. matt, unable to meet your gaze, turned his eyes toward the relentless rain outside, seeking solace in the storm's embrace.

he wasn't entirely devoid of compassion. "yeah, come in," he responded with a frosty detachment, stepping aside to allow you entry, his demeanor as cold as the rain-soaked night.

he closed the door with a soft click that seemed to echo in the silence between you. “okay, what is it?” he queried, leaning against the door, his posture a mix of curiosity and guardedness.

"what's going on, matt?" you inquired directly, your voice slicing through the tension like a finely honed blade.

"what do you mean?" he responded, furrowing his eyebrows in a perplexed manner, his confusion evident in the deep lines etched across his forehead.

"i mean, what’s going on with you?" you pressed, crossing your arms defensively, your eyes searching his for any flicker of the person you once knew. "i know you, matt. this isn't you. this isn't the matt i committed to. the matt i knew was strong, dependable, and honest. but now, it feels like you're a shadow of your former self, and i can't help but wonder what's changed. please, just talk to me."

matt rolls his eyes, a gesture heavy with exasperation, before he begins pacing back and forth in the living room. his hands run through his hair in frustration, each pass through his locks a testament to the turmoil brewing within him. "why do you always have to make everything so dramatic? it's like you're looking for reasons to be upset."

you stand by the door, arms crossed tightly across your chest, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination. "i'm not making things dramatic, matt. i'm just trying to understand why one moment you're sweet and the next you're cold. it's like i'm always walking on eggshells around you."

matt halts abruptly and pivots to face you, his eyes narrowing into slits, a storm of emotions brewing just beneath the surface. "oh, here we go again. you always turn things around to make me the bad guy. maybe if you weren't so sensitive, we wouldn't have these problems."

you take a deep breath, your chest rising and falling with the effort, as tears begin to well up in your eyes, shimmering like fragile crystals on the verge of breaking. "sensitive? matt, you never take responsibility for how you treat me. it's always my fault somehow. i feel like i'm taking one step forward and then three steps back with you. it's exhausting."

matt rolls his eyes, a gesture laden with disdain, before throwing his hands up in exasperation, the motion a dramatic display of his mounting frustration. "well, maybe if you stopped overthinking everything, we'd be fine. i can't deal with your constant need for reassurance."

you move closer, each step heavy with emotion, your voice breaking like fragile glass under the weight of unspoken words. "i just want to feel loved and secure, matt. but with you, it's like i'm constantly guessing where i stand. one day you love me, the next day you push me away. it's breaking my heart."

matt scoffs, a derisive sound escaping his lips, as he shakes his head, the gesture filled with a blend of disbelief and contempt. "you're being ridiculous. if you can't handle me at my worst, maybe you don't deserve me at my best."

you wipe a tear from your cheek, the delicate motion betraying your vulnerability, as your voice emerges, barely a whisper, fragile and laden with unspoken sorrow. "i just wish you could see how much this is hurting me. i don't know how much more of this back and forth i can take."

matt crosses his arms, a barrier of defiance, and looks away, his voice cutting through the air with a frigid detachment. "maybe you should think about that."

you feel your heart shatter into a thousand irreparable fragments, the weight of his words sinking in like stones dragging you into the depths of despair. "is that what you really want? for me to leave?"

matt shrugs with an air of indifference, his eyes deliberately avoiding your gaze, as if the very act of looking at you would acknowledge the gravity of the moment. "i don't know. maybe it's for the best."

you take a step back, the ground beneath you feeling unsteady, as the room swirls around you in a dizzying maelstrom of confusion and disorientation. "i can't believe you would say that. after everything we've been through..."

matt finally turns his gaze towards you, his eyes a labyrinth of emotions, his expression an enigmatic mask that conceals the depths of his true feelings. "maybe it's time we both move on."

you turn and walk toward the door, each step weighed down by an unbearable sorrow, your heart a leaden anchor dragging through the sea of your despair. "i never thought it would end like this, matt. i loved you more than anything."

matt watches as you leave, a fleeting shadow of regret flickering across his face like a ghost of unspoken words. yet, he remains silent, his lips sealed by the weight of his own inaction, allowing you to slip away without a struggle.

you slam the door behind you with a resounding finality that reverberates through the empty corridors, each echo a testament to the storm brewing within. without even a flicker of awareness, you step into the relentless downpour, the cold rain mingling with the heat of your unresolved emotions, as if the heavens themselves weep in harmony with the tempest of your soul.

the raindrops, like silent witnesses to your sorrow, mingle with your tears, creating a symphony of despair. your hair, drenched and tangled, clings to your face, while your clothes, heavy with the weight of the storm, adhere to your skin, as if the very elements conspire to mirror the turmoil within.

»--•--«

the morning after was a wretched affair. you had barely crossed the threshold of your sanctuary before succumbing to the weight of your exhaustion, collapsing onto your bed as if the very essence of your being had been drained.

you lifted your head, the pillow bearing the telltale signs of your turmoil—mascara and tear stains mingling in a somber tapestry. with a groan, you came to the disheartening realization that you had succumbed to sleep with your makeup still on, the remnants of yesterday's trials etched upon your face.

you sat up, your feet meeting the unforgiving chill of the floor as you made your way to the bathroom. there, under the dim light, you meticulously rinsed away the remnants of your makeup, each stroke a small act of reclamation. finally, you brushed your teeth, the rhythmic motion offering a semblance of normalcy amidst the chaos.

you walked back over to your bed, sinking into its embrace as you reached for your phone. with a weary sigh, you began to scroll through it, the soft glow of the screen casting fleeting shadows on your face as you sought a momentary escape in its digital realm.

but then, the tranquility was abruptly shattered by the resonant chime of your doorbell, echoing through the stillness and pulling you back to reality.

you placed your phone gently on the bedside table, rising from your sanctuary and making your way towards the front door, each step a deliberate movement through the quietude of your home.

your fingertips grazed against the cold metal of the door handle, the chill seeping into your skin as you clicked it open, revealing matt standing outside, his presence stirring a whirlwind of emotions.

anger and fury surged through your veins, propelling you to slam the door shut with a forceful resolve, but in a swift motion, matt's hand intercepted it, halting its closure and igniting a silent, yet palpable, confrontation.

"wait, i just wanna talk," he uttered, his voice laced with a desperate urgency, each word a fragile plea hanging in the air between you, seeking to bridge the chasm of misunderstanding and hurt.

you stepped aside, granting him passage, and with a hesitant breath, he crossed the threshold, his presence altering the atmosphere with unspoken tension and unresolved emotions.

you both made your way to the living room, each step laden with the weight of unspoken words and simmering tension, the air thick with the anticipation of the conversation to come.

the morning light filters through the curtains, casting a soft, ethereal glow across the living room, illuminating the dust motes that dance in the still air. matt sits on the edge of the couch, his shoulders hunched and his head cradled in his hands, a picture of silent despair.

as you cross your arms and step into the light, he looks up, his eyes brimming with a rare vulnerability, a silent plea for understanding and connection, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between you.

“okay,” he begins, his voice softer than usual. he shifts slightly, the tension in his shoulders visible as he takes a deep breath. "i’ve been thinking a lot about what you said last night. i know i can be cold and push you away, and that's not fair to you. i guess i’ve been scared to let you in completely, but that’s no excuse for how i’ve treated you."

he stands, his movements slow and deliberate, as if each step is weighed down by the gravity of his words. he takes a hesitant step towards you, his gaze earnest and unwavering. "i’m sorry for making you feel like you’re walking on eggshells. you deserve to feel loved and secure, not constantly guessing where you stand. i’ve been selfish, and i see that now."

matt’s eyes meet yours, and for the first time, there’s a glimmer of genuine regret. he takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly, as if gathering the courage to speak. "i don't want to lose you. i promise to work on being more consistent and taking responsibility for my actions. you mean too much to me to keep hurting you like this."

his voice breaks slightly as he continues, his hands trembling ever so slightly. "please, give me another chance to show you that i can be the partner you deserve. i love you, and i’m willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

he takes another step closer, his hand reaching out tentatively, fingers trembling as if afraid you might pull away. his eyes, brimming with unshed tears, lock onto yours with an intensity that speaks volumes. "i know words are not enough, and trust must be rebuilt. but i am ready to put in the effort, to prove to you that i can change. every day, i will strive to be better, not just for you, but for us."

matt’s voice trembles with emotion, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "i’ve realized that pushing you away was my way of protecting myself, but in doing so, i’ve hurt the person i care about the most. i can’t bear the thought of a life without you. please, let me show you that i can be the man you fell in love with, the one who cherishes every moment with you."

he pauses, taking a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as if he’s trying to steady the storm of emotions within him, "i understand if you need time to think about this, and i will respect whatever decision you make. just know that i am here, ready to fight for us, ready to love you the way you deserve to be loved."

matt’s eyes are now brimming with unshed tears, his vulnerability laid bare before you, like an open book revealing its most fragile pages. "i love you more than words can express, and i am willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. please, give me another chance."

you connect your lips with his, and for once, it feels as though you’ve taken a monumental step forward without the burden of retreating several steps back. in that fleeting yet profound moment, the weight of past missteps and hesitations seems to dissolve, leaving only the pure, unadulterated connection between your souls.

[themisplaceddemigod]

Hi there! Can I req PJO Apollo x Reader anything! There’s not enough Apollo fics. Just something romantic and cute! Thank you !!! <3

hi! I'd love to write more Apollo content, I also think there's too few!

pick me

PJO!Apollo x Princess!Reader

summary - you met Apollo before your father called for suitors, so you're amused when he appears before your father as a mortal, pretending to be a suitor. just for fun.

warnings - none, but not proofread

Your love of music is what drew the sun god's attention. Any moment you could, you'd either be sitting by your lyre and creating new melodies, or taking a serene walk in the palace gardens while singing. So it was no surprise when Apollo showed up one day during your walk.

As soon as you saw him, you knew instantly that he was no mortal. Power radiated off him in waves, and his body glowed with a faint golden light.

"So which one are you then?" You asked him, raising an eyebrow.

The god was visibly taken aback, "Which one am- the handsomest one, obviously!" He puffed out his chest proudly.

"I see...so Lord Poseidon? Though I've heard he usually shows up as an older man with darker hair and greener eyes." The mischievous twinkle in your eye revealed your devious intentions.

Apollo chuckled, relaxed now that he knew you were messing with him, "I assure you, I am so much better looking than my uncle."

"I'd love to agree, but I don't want to die."

Another laugh from the sun god, "As long as I'm here, I promise you no harm will come to you." He stepped closer to you, following you along the path lined with rose bushes.

A blush rose to your cheeks, and you cast your gaze to the blooming flowers, "May I ask what your business with me is, Lord Apollo?"

"Please, call me Apollo. And that's simple; I'm here to court you."

-

Apollo was a fun, spontaneous and affectionate lover. He would often just appear in your bedroom and sweep you off for a date, more so than he would actually plan one. He spent time teaching you how to play different instruments, and often liked to lay his head on your lap while listening to you play or even sing.

He gifted you all sorts of things, but usually called himself your best gift which you couldn't deny. Kisses with him were either slow and sweet, or passionate and fiery depending on his mood. He was also a cuddler, something you learned when you woke up in his arms one morning after falling asleep out of them.

The time you spent with him made you happier than anything else, and you found yourself falling in love. You didn't want anyone but him, because no one would be able to make you feel the way he made you feel.

The news that your father was looking for potential husbands for you reached your kingdom and others before it reached your ears. You were devastated, your relationship with Apollo at the forefront of your mind.

Panic filled you as you rushed to your usual meeting place with the god, fear of what he would think clouding your mind. You'd been enjoying being romanced by him, you didn't want to lose it.

"Apollo-"

"I know," he interrupted you calmly, before smiling and greeting you like usual. A hug and a sweet, slow kiss followed by a forehead peck.

"You're not upset?" You frowned.

He let out a loud laugh, pulling you close to rest against his chest, "I'm a god, love, I have nothing to fear from mortal competition." Then, before you spoke, "But if your father wants a proposal from a mortal suitor, I can comply."

"What do you mean by that?" You asked, nervously eyeing him.

He just smiled and kissed you again, "You'll see."

-

The day of the ball your father had arranged to find a husband for you came faster than you'd anticipated, and as you got ready in your room with your handmaidens, you couldn't help but feel nervous.

What if he didn't show up? What if your father chose another suitor before he arrives? What if your father rejected his proposal?

"Something wrong, princess?" One of your handmaidens asked, a soft and understanding look on her face. She was always close to you, and knew how much you didn't want this.

"No, nothing," you forced a smile, "Just wondering who's down there."

"The finest princes in all the land, I'm sure," she put the finishing touches before stepping away. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," you smiled at her again, this time genuine.

When you reached the top of the last flight of stairs that led down into the ballroom, your heart almost stopped at the sight of dozens of princes and noblemen from all over milling about.

Then your eyes met a set of electric blue ones, and all your nerves faded away as your body relaxed. You descended the stairs and greeted every suitor as you passed, their compliments not bringing you as much joy as Apollo's did.

You were heading towards the god - who had made good on his promise and looked mortal, dressed in princely attire and significantly less godly features - but still striking.

"(Name)!" Your father called cheerfully, "Come meet Prince (Random Name)! He's from our neighbouring kingdom!"

You didn't really want to, but you walked over and offered the young prince the best smile you could muster. Which was pretty convincing, because you'd had practice.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, my lady," the prince smiled back and lifted your hand, kissing your knuckles. "You truly are the jewel of this kingdom."

As you laughed and played shy in response to his comment, Apollo was watching the exchange irritably. After a few more minutes he couldn't stand it, and walked over to your small group with the intention of stealing you away.

"Excuse me," he politely interrupted the conversation, "May I ask the beautiful princess for a dance?"

"Yes," you answered, a little too eagerly.

Apollo just smiled and took your hand, leading you to the middle of the ballroom where the older couples were dancing slowly. As the two of you joined them, you sighed in relief.

"I was wondering when you were going to come over."

"Maybe I just wanted to give him false hope," the sun god teased, his eyes once again enchanting you beyond words.

"You're still so handsome," you blushed, "What if they suspect-"

"Even if they do," Apollo twirled you around and then pulled you back, so now his chest was pressing against your back. "What can they do? Refusing a god would have terrible consequences."

"Mhm, I guess you're right," you relaxed again, butterflies blooming in your stomach as the two of you swayed side to side in this position.

"Always am."

He did have to let you go, however, as your father insisted you dance with a few of the princes as well just so you could be sure. None of them interested you, none of them attracted you and none of them entertained you the way the sun god did.

The entire time you danced and listened to their boring tales, you locked eyes with Apollo across the room. He was silently laughing at your predicament, amused that you were suffering so and smug that you had eyes for no one but him.

And then your father struck up a conversation with him, seeing how you were so interested in him, and this time it was your turn to be amused as you watched the Olympian try his best to maintain a mortal appearance both physically and through his words.

It was quite funny seeing him like this, pretending to be another suitor interested in marrying you.

Towards the end of the ball, you took to your throne - beside your father's in exhaustion. You'd danced with nearly every prince there and your feet were killing you.

"See anyone you like yet?" Your father asked as he sat down next to you in his own throne.

"Well, actually-" You began, only to be cut off.

"I would like to ask for the princess's hand in marriage," a voice cut you off, and you both turned to see Apollo approaching.

You tried to stifle your giggle, especially when he winked at you. Keeping a straight face was difficult, but you managed as your father eyed Apollo.

"What kingdom are you from again?"

"Olympus."

You choked when he said that, your eyes going wide. The two men turned to you, concerned, but you waved their worry off.

"Did you just say-"

"Mount Olympus?" The sun god repeated, "Yes I did." And then he changed, assuming the form he liked the appear in when interacting with mortals - the same one you were used to seeing.

Your father instantly bowed his head, "Lord Apollo! I-I didn't know you were among us tonight!"

"I was trying to keep it that way," Apollo replied, suddenly approaching you, "But then I figured, what king would refuse a god?"

He held his hand out to you, and you took it as a deep blush fell over your cheeks. Your father's gaze moved to your intertwined hands as you moved close to the god, that familiar feeling he gave you washing over you and making you shy and flustered.

"My daughter?" Your father asked in shock.

"She's quite the gifted musician," the sun god praised, "And she's got a pretty voice. But more than that, she didn't even recognise me!"

Your father's face paled, "My lord, I'm so-"

"Well she actually did, but she pretended not to. Which was cute, actually." Apollo did not shy away from the details of your meeting, and he basically told your father your entire relationship story. "But this was fun! Unfortunately, she and I will be going now."

Before your father could protest, he'd taken you to your favourite spot. At the look on your face, he chuckled.

"That was fun, wasn't it? Now he'll get off your back about marriage."

"You-you just-" You were too stunned, still blushing profusely.

"Improvised that last part?" He finished for you. "Mhm. Your reaction was worth it, I can't believe you choked!"

"Apollo!"

He just laughed and wrapped his arms around you, smiling and gazing into your eyes lovingly with his dazzling ones. You shied away from his gaze, but he tilted your chin up so you could look at him.

And then he kissed you, even slower and sweeter than usual, holding you against him intimately.

And for the first time since Daphne and Hyacinthus, he was in love.