#I don't know how much clearer the difference could be

[grapejuice32]

Always Would

Soft!Rafe x Reader Warnings: dissociation, allusions to self harm/mention of scars, reader dissociates + reader struggles to eat?

Notes: just wanted to say that this is only based off of my own personal experiences with dissociation and all of the topics explored in this. This is not a clear example of dissociation in general as everyones experiences are different. Take care of yourself bbys, don't read it if its triggering and my messages are open always!

You'd been staring at the wall blankly for nearly three hours now, doing nothing but listening to the music playing in your headphones and he wasn't sure you were even really listening to it, he assumes you were using it as your own sort of white noise. He was concerned. You had a tendency to fall into a dissociative state and sometimes it could last for minutes, other times it could last for hours. During this time you were usually slow to respond to anything, often doing and saying things which you would have no awareness or clear recollection of, and when it was a severe episode of dissociation, you tended to do what you were doing now. Nothing.

"Baby?" He spoke softly, crouching down in front of where you lay in bed as he combed a hand through your hair. It took a few seconds but your eyes slowly shifted from the wall to look up at him but it didn't look to him like you were registering very much of what he had been softly mumbling. A sad smile lined his lips as he stopped running his hand through your hair to gently pull your headphones off and help you sit up. The usual spark in your eyes shielded by a dazed, spaced out one. He pushed the sleeves of your jumper up to your elbows and let his thumb instinctively run along one of the raised scars that lined your wrist. He glanced down at your wrists and then back up to your face before asking, " 've you done anything', baby?" No judgement or anger in his tone, just concern.

A frown of confusion grew on your face and you shook your head unsurely, "No I did-I, no I don- I didn't," you responded, stumbling over your airily spoken words, "Don' think so." You finished in a distressed whisper, not sure if you had or hadn't.

Rafe nodded and mumbled and calm, 'okay, baby', before he proceeded to pull your (his) jumper off of you, leaving you in a tank top so he could check both your arms fully. It's not that he didn't trust you, he did, it was that there had been occasions where you had done things and remained completely unaware of your actions until either Rafe had noticed or your mind had cleared from its dissociative state.

After checking your arms and seeing them clear of any recent wounds, a sigh of relief fell from his lips and he placed a kiss to your temple. "C'mon, 'm gonna make you something' small to eat," he began as he helped you stand from your shared bed, taking your hand in his larger one as he lead you downstairs and into the kitchen, glancing back at you in time to catch you shaking your head, "jus' a little snack. Know your head's still feeling' fuzzy but try and eat something' f'me, yeah?"

You weren't sure what happened in the moments between him lifting you to sit on the kitchen counter and him handing you a bowl of chopped fruits. After a lot of coaxing on his part, you ate about half of the fruits and it admittedly helped ground a you a bit, "Jus' have one more f'me," you heard him speak, sounding a lot clearer now than he had before, but you shook your head and pushed the bowl in his direction causing him to sigh in defeat, "well, jus' drink this then, yeah?" he compromised, handing you a glass of cold water. You drank it quickly, finishing a second glass in record time, not realising how thirsty you had been until he'd encouraged you to drink it.

He helped you off the counter and the both of you walked into the living room, you sat down on the couch and he squatted down in front of you, and now, these were all actions you were becoming slightly more aware of. You felt the light touch of his hands on your knees, vaguely aware of the way they soothingly ran up and down your lower thighs left bare by your shorts, your eyes were on his as you watched him search your face for any signs for well, anything really.

He watched as you became more aware of the way his hands were running up and down your legs and as you began to actually take in his words. He continued this process for a while before it was clear to him that you were clear minded now, "There we go. You did so well, sweetheart. Feelin' a bit better now?"

You nodded and mumbled an embarrassed 'thank you', avoiding looking directly in his eyes.

"Hey," he tutted, one of his hands leaving your thighs to hold your chin and tilt your head up so that you were looking at him again, "none f'that, okay? S' fine, s' nothin' to be embarrassed about, baby. Jus' happens sometimes, s' alright." His hand left your chin and moved to rest on the side of your face, his thumb running along your cheekbone when you began to softly nod along to his words.

The both of you were silent for a while, the only noises being the ruffling of clothes as he moved to sit beside you and pull you into his chest, the kisses he continuously pressed to your head causing a satisfied hum to leave your lips as you whispered, "I love you, so much."

He drew you closer to him, his arms tighter around you as he mumbled into your hair, "I love you more, sweetheart." You weren't always entirely sure why he loved you when he could have any, less troubled person that he wanted, but never did you doubt the love he held for you, not when he took care of you the way he did, the way he always would.

Please lmk what you guys think, I'd love to hear from you! I'll also be happy to try and write any requests you may have <3

[tyrannosaurus-trainwreck]

I feel like Kerry was doing pretty well until he got swiftboated and then everybody pretty much fell for it?

But I mean, politics isn't a reality tv show. It's not supposed to be "exciting" or "dramatic" outside of acute crises. A big part of the current problem has been caused by the media's addiction to the political horse race--no matter how wildly unequal two candidates are, they're going to give the impression that they're neck and neck the whole way in order to drive viewer engagement.

You, as one of the poor bastards who's not a multimedia conglomerate and actually has to live with the outcome, do not want a presidential candidate who's a hot mess, or who thinks they're hosting a roast every time they get on camera. The two presidents in living memory who were very good at being entertaining--Trump and Reagan--were unmitigated human rights disasters with shit policies across the board.

You remember Trump's Muslim ban? The federal goon squads deployed to cities he didn't think were handling the police-brutality protests harshly enough? The medical gear and supplies that got distributed as a reward for state governors' loyalty during the worst of the pandemic? I mean, yeah, it made for some real crackerjack headlines, but it was fucking terrifying to live through. And that's if you did, in fact, live through it. Not everybody did.

Ideally you want a candidate who's a good, engaging public speaker and fairly charismatic, but podium-thumping demagogues and rabble-rousing activists tend not to be great at the long-term, consistent, broad-spectrum political work that most elected officials need to do. Even municipal-level politicians tend to have terms of at least 2 years, and even the ones who run on single issues still have to deal competently with a whole bunch of shit they don't personally care about all the time. They have to be able to stay focused and not burn out.

I don't even know if "take over the DNC, kids" is what will do it, since it seems like it takes about three years for leftists to turn on even the younger, more progressive and nominally "exciting" politicians like Ocasio-Cortez over the compromises made to keep the government functioning.

The kids most likely to wind up taking over the DNC are still going to be unsexy nerds more interested in diverting bloated police budgets to a slew of community initiatives, or reinstating building codes that kept unethical developers from building low-income housing on flood plains, or introducing data-driven benefits programs pegged to cost of living indices than in shaking their asses on social media, passing ideological purity tests, or giving barn-burner speeches.

They're occasionally going to have to vote for bills with shitty riders, have a shitty opinion, or endorse a shitty colleague. They're going to have to be at least palatable to a voting majority of their constituency, which means they're probably not going to be able to run on "defund the police" or "expand welfare access" or "fuck your real estate prices" at any level higher than the House, and even then only if it's a small and very liberal seat. The ones who wind up with a reasonable shot at the presidency are unlikely to be radicals or ideologues simply by virtue of needing to appeal to a majority of voters.

Like, I don't know what to tell you. The right can put up whatever clown they want so long as he solemnly swears to keep undermining the government's ability to rein in corporate malfeasance, and the superPAC money will come pouring in. They are actively trying to break anything they can't burn to the ground. There's no drawback for that guy to run around yelling "Cry harder, libs!" and being a bozo. The people he's aiming for actively want a dysfunctional government that harms its citizens through inaction, and the spectacle also serves to disengage people who don't want that but are also too terrified of socialized medicine, immigrants, and the poors to reliably vote blue.

Unless what you want is that, only the bozo is running around yelling "Nationalize your mom!", then there's a certain level of bland, workhorse dependability that you have to make peace with in a presidential candidate. So long as more than 35% of the electorate is afraid that you are, in fact, going to nationalize their mom, the Dems aren't putting up anyone without a known anti-mom-nationalizing platform.

Are their policies good? Will they work with your down-ticket radicals and reformers to move the country in the right direction, or at least stay out of the way? Do they have experts and cabinet members picked out who are going to run their agencies well? Will they get you closer to your goals than the guy whose last cabinet was primarily white supremacists? Will all that let you pressure your representatives and senators to work with progressive elements to get more progressive laws passed? Yeah? Okay, then.

We have lived through this before.

People said Gore wasn't good enough, that he was Bland and uninteresting and middle of the road and something had to change. So they voted third party or they didn't vote at all. And the Democratic party didn't wake up, and we got George W Bush and all the absolute hot garbage that came with him.

And they said Hillary Clinton was the wrong candidate, that she was middle of the road at best and conservative for the Democrats at worst, that she was entitled and they were going to vote for a third party or they didn't vote at all or worse yet, they voted for the other candidate as a joke because it's not like those votes change things, you know? And the Democratic party didn't magically wake up, they didn't majorly change, and we are still dealing with the fallout from that.

And that's not only twice in my lifetime, but twice in my voting lifetime. One of the important things you learn in therapy is that you cannot change other people, and you cannot set your expectations based on how you think they ought to react to certain things.

If you are refusing to vote, or voting third-party because of what you think it's going to make someone else do, please reconsider.

If you want to make the liberals or the centrists or whatever you want to call them wake up, you're going to need to do something that hasn't already been done twice in the last 20 years.

[deviousdiesel]

.

[ladyimaginarium]

just got this....... wild anon who clearly have never looked thru my blog. like...... yall. yall do realize i have a literal tag for free palestine right. yall do realize that we as an individual body were the only one in my area who said free palestine irl only to have the poster torn down the next day by g-d knows who & have condemned the israeli government & the iof's actions multiple times & have talked about the issue years before this exploded last year right. yall do realize we& were Always antizionist (bc how the state of medinat israel was formed was inherently wrong) & pro free palestine while also acknowledging jewish & palestinian indigineity & history to that land & that also yknow genocide is bad. maybe just... maybe ya shouldve read our byf / dni / our pinned post first before automatically jumping to conclusions about us but thanks ig?

[gabichanwrites]

I think that way too many people gloss over the reason why exactly those 6 men were such a big deal and a last straw for the crew and Eurylychous. Up to this point Odysseus made mistakes, yes, and people died because of them but never before has Odysseus made such a deliberate sacrifice.

Before this, he was still their Capitan - a bit arrogant, too prone to playing into Gods' Games and with a damnation right on his heels - but still on their side. Not to mention that this saga happens SO soon after Circe Saga, where he CAME BACK for them, put himself in grave danger and risked his return home to save THEM. Since the wind bag fuck up, this crew must have regained so much trust in him, Eurylychous must have felt so indebted and plagued by his own guilt because of his actions in Ocean Saga and Circe Saga. Because despite their doubts and question of How Much Longer Till His Luck Runs Out, their Capitan still came and saved them.

And then the Different Beast happens and it's ruthless and cruel but it's against their enemies, it feels like protection, no doubt. It's their Capitan making sure that they can make it home, that no other monster will follow them and make it impossible.

But then the Scylla happens and it never has been more clearer than there. Eurylychous would not be that furious if he didn't realize and he IS a second-in-command, he is not stupid. Six men who held the torches died and it was by Odysseus' order. This is no longer slaying every foe on the way home, this is Odysseus willing to sacrifice even them. Is it the same capitan who came back for them on Circe's island, is the same who always did everything he could to make sure they all made it back? How Are They Supposed To Trust Him Now?

This situation is so fucked and both sides have their point, I'm so sick of seeing posts putting the full blame on either side. They are all human and stressed and they don't know what to trust, what to do to come back home - and the worst part of it all, they probably never stood a chance.

After all, Zeus has already said they The Blood On Your Hands Is Something You Can't Lose, All You Can Choose Is Whose.

[trashwithvariety]

so this has probably already been talked about in great detail since the end of the show (hannibal) but I just did a rewatch and I can't shut up about it. the incredible level of subtle details in this show is already insane but I noticed it much clearer in my rewatch during season 3 part two how quickly we see Will change.

during *The Great Red Dragon*, Will is back to mostly his pre-Hannibal self. We see him married with a family out in the country with his dogs and more specifically his clothes (I am going to be very specific about what he wears in this because it's these details that are so subtle but make his change so much more crispy). He's wearing very practical, warm weather clothes, looks like an outdoorsman.

like, reminder that this ↓

is how he shows up to meet Hannibal again for the first time in years. Glasses, coat, clearly clothes he would not think twice about wearing anywhere, kind of like how he dresses in season one. It's also in his expression and his stature (which bless Hugh Dancy for his portrayal of Will because I don't know who else could have done the subtle changes so eloquently)

now let me take you to the episode directly after (And the Woman Clothed with the Sun) he first sees Hannibal and has to come back to talk to him

i'm sorry??? Immediately with the crisp button down, tucked in, with the top buttons undone, hair slicked back, NO GLASSES and look. Look at how he stands and his expression and how comfortable he is, hands in pockets.

okay further evidence. And honestly arguably the scariest piece

it's the dead-eyed stare for me. We all know what happened to Chilton after this, and it's the fact that he knew what he was doing. God, Will was never more like Hannibal than he was at the end of season three. Clothes are not much different on purpose because he's playing the game now.

Sidebar that in almost all the scenes that he's bitchily talking to Bedelia, he's also very well dressed as if he's taking Hannibal's place in his manipulation of her.

By the time we see him in The Wrath of the Lamb, he has already decided that he wants Hannibal back. Vaguely suggesting to Jack to use Hannibal as bait for the Dragon, as if he didn't very well consider all the outcomes would likely lead to Hannibal escaping. The way they're looking conspiratorially at each other in the back of the van. How Will isn't even remotely surprised he walks out unscathed or how he doesn't question letting him drive them to wherever they're going to meet the dragon.

And once they get to the cliffside house, and they get settled and Will?

His shirt is tight, his expression is the SAME as the one Hannibal had in episode ONE season ONE, as he watches Hannibal BLEED OUT and wonders probably what they will do.

There are plenty of ways everyone that worked on this show displayed how Will was changing but I loved how they used his clothes to do it and how Hugh used his expressions to differentiate pre-Hannibal and post-Hannibal Will.

I could write a dissertation on this show it's insane and I will never shut up about my murderous gay husbands.

[vaguely-concerned]

huh. you know something I just consciously put together for the first time about caterina and lucanis' relationship is that through the game we get to hear them talk about each other a lot, but we get very few chances to hear them speak with each other at any length at all. contrast it with other companions whose storylines have elements of 'believed lost/long time no see relative returns!' like bellara and davrin, where we get to see both of them have several pretty in-depth conversations with cyrian and eldrin. hell I think even rook talks with varric longer in the regret prison scene than we ever get to see lucanis and caterina interact directly.

(and when we do see them interact, it's mostly one-sided -- it is, perhaps unsurprisingly, caterina who is doing most of the talking and giving all the orders, as he ruefully observes is her wont after murder of crows. including jumpscaring him with 'you're first talon now btw' and the shocked pikachu face in five acts he goes through in response lmao. perhaps it's more accurate to say that she talks at him and he reacts, than that they talk to each other much.)

it has such an interesting effect too, because in deliberately denying us direct insight or experience and only having this mosaic of description from each of them to go on, as well as forcing us to pay attention to the negative space of what is carefully not said, it's evocative along the same principle that you never actually show the monster in a horror film. if you've read the wigmaker job you have a clearer image of the more uh. worrying elements at play here going in, but there is something fascinatingly insidious and naturalistic in the way it's 'hushed up' in the game itself. she has his complete loyalty both as a member of her house and, more importantly, that of an abused child to a parent figure. he readily admits several times that she's a difficult person to live with, an even more difficult person to be loved by ("even for me. and I was her favourite")... but never once does he actively blame her nor truly conceptualize that he has every right to do so (that he can be angry with her and still love her, because whether he should or not he unavoidably does), or that she might have acted differently than she did, that she made a choice every time to hurt him. even affectionately he speaks of her as a force of nature, an act of god -- something that can't be reasoned or pleaded with or resisted, something you can only hope to navigate with as little pain as possible and pray to survive. let yourself get carried away by the riptide, resisting it will only make it worse. you don't compromise with a hurricane, you just try to find the best shelter you can and cross your fingers while you wait for it to pass and be calm again.

love is that hurricane. you do whatever she asks. you earn her continued affection day by day by never letting her down. you only want the things she tells you it's okay to want and cut everything else away preemptively. ("A wyvern tooth dagger?? I loved wyverns as a boy --Caterina would never let me have one of these, though." and as we have all wept and gnashed our teeth over, it never even OCCURS to him that he's a like thirty-five year old adult man who can buy himself any dagger he wants at any time. she said he couldn't have one. so he'll never have one. that's just how it works. and maybe if Illario could just accept that and find his peace with it like I have, this whole thing wouldn't be so difficult. oh lucanis.)

such is the price -- and the cost -- of being loved by her, it's a loan on which the interest will never stop piling up. you have to keep paying it down in perfection every day if you want to keep it. who got the worse deal there: the grandson who has abandoned everything else in life to live up to that and mostly succeeded, until the day he's so burned out and broken it threatens to no longer be an option, or the grandson who can never seem to scrape together enough worth in her eyes no matter how he begs, borrows or steals it, how he hustles and plays dirty?

one of the worst things that can happen to anyone is to be loved by a selfish god. another one of the worst things that can ever happen to anyone is to not be loved by a selfish god. (hope that helps, boys!) even in betraying everything else, Illario can't bring himself to hurt his grandmother, because that would defeat the whole point. who would he defiantly be proving himself worthy to, without her. in love, devotion, submission, hatred, frustration, bitterness, everything is defined in relation to her, you can spot the gravitational force of it through how the dellamorte family move through time and space. she -- her love and regard and attention -- is still the sun both of their worlds orbit around, even as adults. the game might never tell you outright 'she used to beat and starve them growing up. for their own good you see, so they'd be strong (and broken down enough for her to build them up again however she wanted but I'm sure that's incidental)', but if you know even a little bit about how these dynamics can work the writing is on the wall everywhere you look and all the more unsettling for it.

follow lucanis' freeze-logic and fraught interpersonal catch 22 irreconcilable mixed emotions problems back far enough, looong before the ossuary entered the picture, and you start to see caterina's ghost around every fucking corner. she is so proud of him. (well, she would be. she made him. she forged exactly the knife she needed and it rests willingly, devotedly, in her hands, it would return to her every time because it doesn't know love as anything but to be a knife. his tama never taught him how to be anything else. his biggest fear with her is that she won't even want him back, the way he is now.) to the best ability of her soul, whatever parts of it survived a lifetime of crow politics and 'five children, eight grandchildren, only Illario and me left now', I think she really does loves him. he certainly loves her, with all the sincerity and artless desperation of a child, of the little boy he was once. and what she's done to him (and to illario, for all his shitty gremlin scar-ass antics lol) is awful. the harm is real, and the love is real, and trying to find a way for these two truths to exist in the same space is driving all three of them their own individualized forms of insane. you know. the way only family can and so often does lol.

through implications and short glimpses and having to put the pieces together yourself, you can have the feeling that there is very genuine mutual love and attachment in this relationship... and that beneath that there is something so profoundly wrong. and the sneaking '...oh shit it gets worse the longer I think about it' horror of that is more effective for me at least than the stark in-your-face presentation of the facts of the matter could have been. the love is here. the love is here. it only ever makes it worse.

[just-a-ghost00]

What do they wish they could tell you?

This reading is romantically enclined. If you're wondering about a specific person that you're romantically interested in, whatever your situation may be, this reading is for you. The theme of this reading is Kpop solo artists.

Group 1

Cards : 4 of wands, Nature, Tibetan black quartz - Light up your spiritual path

I wanted to first adress that as I was pulling the cards for you, I felt a bit of warmth radiate through my stomach, around the solar plexus. And immediately this made me think of longing. I got the feeling that for a lot of you this would be a person that you are in a separation with, someone that is currently far from you whether that is by choice or because of external circumstances. The card of the tibetan black quartz mentioned a question that caught my eye straight away. "Could I be even clearer right now?" And this felt like something they would actually want to tell you. "What more do you want me to do? How far do I have to go to prove you that this is real?" This person feels frustrated and hopeless because they think you are not getting their point. That you do not see eye to eye with them. However, they think they have tried everything in their power to get you to understand the extent of their feelings. This person thinks a lot about you. They turn the situation over and over in their head again, to figure out what they've missed, what they could or should have done differently. The nature card made me feel like life circumstances lead you to go on your separate ways, yet this person is still keeping an eye on you and thinking about you consistantly. They cannot forget you. With so many eyes represented on the card and the presence of wings as well as a moon crescent that is placed like a halo, this makes me think that this person feels spiritually connected to you. The current distance between you allows them to consider your connection from a different angle and understand the truth of it all. Even though they may be missing you dearly, they think it's a blessing in disguise. This person wants to tell you that you are their home. With that 4 of wands, I get a strong message of "I want to come home to you".

"I want us to support each other and walk in the same direction. To face the future together, hand in hand, no matter what's ahead of us. I don't want us to fight and sulk all alone in our corner, when we could be together and ruling the world. I want us to write our own story. One we could fondly talk about to our children someday. One we could look back to with sparkle in our eyes as if it were yesterday. I have deeply thought about you, about us. About the change I wanted to see and the future I envisioned. And today, I know that my future is with you. I know that I want you to be around when I wake up in the morning, when I'm feeling down at the end of the day or excited about my success. I want you to be around when I am taking another step towards my goals or when I'm thinking of going back to where I started. I want us to see each other for who we are. No masks, no pretending. Just us, waltzing in the middle of a room like today could disappear and there would be no tomorrow. I love you. That thought has become as clear as the day. As certain as there is a rainbow after the rain. I want you like I have never wanted anyone before. That scared me, I admit it. But now I know. I know what it means and I am in for it. How can I get that feeling across to you? What do I have to do for you to trust me and let me in? Haven't I done enough already? Haven't have told you how much you meant to me? What was I lacking for you to distrust me and walk away? I want you to see me. Not for the person I used to be, not for what people portray me as, but for the person I am when I'm with you and the one I want to be for you. I wish you could see my efforts and my value. That you shared the same vision of the future as me. I miss you. There isn't a single day that I don't think about you. Everything reminds me of you and that is excruciating. To know that you may not feel the same, that maybe you are already in other arms, other sheets. That maybe you don't think of me like I do. That you have moved on and forgotten everything we've been through. When I look at the sky, I think I see your face looking down on me. When I see a star, I wish it were you shining a light on me. I pray to God for your presence. I ask for you to be safe and sound. I ask for you to love me. In my prayers I talk to you and whisper to the wind the words I wish I could whisper into your ear. Do they get to you? Do you feel my embrace anytime you are caught by the wind? Because I do."

Group 2

Cards : Page of swords, The Wildling, Hiddenite - Claim your happy place

First of all, I want to mention that a lot of air related energy is being represented in this spread and there's an emphasis put on swords because the wildling card also has two swords crossing depicted on it. Which reminds me of the 2 of swords card in certain decks. Right off the bat, I got a very combattive energy from these cards and heard "You are mine". "I'm coming for you." It feels like this person may have been very uncertain in the past about you, what you meant to them and what they hoped for. But they recently gained clarity about that and now they wish to communicate without about what they have found out. I also felt like this person is very protective over you and feeling urged to act. As if something happened that triggered this visceral need of being by your side as soon as possible. For some of you, I'm getting the message that your person may have heard that you were being courted by another person. If that is not the case, something may have given them the impression that such a thing was happening. They want to tell you that people better stay away from you because they intend to "claim" you as theirs. I'm getting a message that this person had a dream in which they were losing you, possibly in a tragic way or a dramatic way. And this person thought to themselves " sh*t I didn't see that coming". They want to tell you that now, they know where they stand when it comes to you. They want to be by your side, fighting with you instead of against you.

"I am done resisting the urge to love you with all I have. In the past, I tried to forget you. To ignore what I felt was so obvious. I was stuck in a loop, struggling between my thoughts of you and my fears. I was fighting against myself and in the process I was fighting you. I hurt you, said and did things that lead you to believe I was cold, that I didn't care when in reality you were all I could see. You were in my mind 24/7. I kept imagining things, wondering how we could be together, trying to establish the possibilities I had, making plans in my mind but I got scared and ran away. I am done running. I don't want to lie to you anymore. I don't want to pretend being this cold hearted s.o.b that only thinks about their own satisfaction. I want to be with you. To prove you that you were not wrong. To show you the true essence of who I am. I want to know more about you. To figure out this thing that's between us, understand why it's there, where it's taking us. I just want to talk to you. To know you're okay. That you're safe and sound, that no one has laid a finger on you. If that ever happened, I would be devastated. I look at your pictures and can"t help but wonder who took it. Was there another person behind the camera that loves you more than I do? I'm tired of acting as if nothing happened, of going to work or going on with my day wearing a mask of indifference when all I can think about is having you in my arms. I wish to tell you I am different than what you perceive of me. That I am worth your time and energy. I want to fight for your love and attention, to be worthy of you. I want to prove the world that we make sense. That we go together well. I want to make a statement that will mark you forever and let everyone know that you are off limits."

Group 3

Cards: 4 of wands, Connect to heart, Pyrite - call on your core power

Before doing your reading, as I shuffled the cards, I challened the song Listen to your heart from Roxette. Looking at the lyrics a little, I got the feeling of someone being afraid of missing an opportunity if they ever chose to walk away. It's like this person wants to say "I don't want to make the wrond decision". "I'm afraid of ruining it all if I don't take this seriously." They wish to tell you that they imagine a future with you. That to them, you are more than just a friend or a random person they may have met a few times. That their feelings are stronger than what you may perceive or imagine. They wish to tell you that they would do anything for you. That they feel attracted to you in ways that sometimes surprise them. That they are loyal to you and that their heart is filled with love whenever they think about you. You hold the key to this person's heart. They feel like you are connected through space and time. And even if you may be apart, this person's gaze is always turned towards you, their heart is always open to you, their thoughts are filled with memories of you. They just cannot go away and close the door, no matter how hard they try. Their feelings for you are stronger than any fear they may have regarding the connection. This person wishes to tell you that they want to be by your side through thick and thin.

" I love you. It's as simple as that. There isn't much to say or to argue about. Because deep in your heart, you know this is the truth. Ever since I met you, I have envisioned a future where we stood together hand in hand. I have wanted to be with you and support you, to hold you in my arms and cherish you for the rest of my life. Upon first sight I knew that this was not just a coincidence. That this meant more than our eyes could see and our minds could grasp. I felt immediately close to you and this incessant need to be close to you. I wanted to love you with all I had. I couldn't help but to adore you and worship you. I was like a dog on a leash and if at first I got scared, with time I didn't mind. Because it felt like this was the right thing to do. I always feel you in the corner of my mind. If I close my eyes, I can see you dancing in the room, trying to please me and seduce me. I can picture your body on the floor and the way it moves so naturally against mine. I can see us walking to the altar hand in hand, a smile on our faces, love radiating through our hearts. I can imagine the house we'd have, the family we'd build. The fairytale kind of love I always wished for. I cannot think of anyone else better than you to fit that role. I wouldn't want anyone else, even if that person was a better match. Because I chose you. And I am not going to go back on that decision. I want to make love to you. But everything has its own time, right? Let us not rush. We have all the time in the world to learn about each other and explore this bond that we share. I am sure you feel it too. This isn't an illusion. It is real. And I want you to embrace it just like I intend to do."

[ama0310]

Silver Springs (S.R)

Character: Spencer Reid

Requested: No

Type: Angst

Summary: A chance encounter during a murder investigation forces Spencer to confront his past when he comes face-to-face with Y/N, his ex-girlfriend and new victim, rekindling old feelings and tensions.

AN: It's basically Daisy Jones & the Six meets Criminal Minds type of vibe.

"Another day, another case."

Spencer Reid had grown accustomed to the relentless pace of his work with the BAU. Evil, it seemed, never took a day off.

This explained why he now found himself en route to interview the latest victim, accompanied by Morgan.

Four murders in two weeks, and the body count showed no signs of slowing. All signs pointed to a disturbing connection within the music industry. The first two victims were singers, their vocal cords savagely ripped out. The third, a guitarist, had his hands severed. The most recent victim, a band manager, had his eyes gouged out in a grotesque display of violence.

As they walked briskly down the bustling Nashville street, Morgan voiced his frustration. "I can't wrap my head around why each murder was so different. It's like we're dealing with a completely new MO each time."

Reid's brilliant mind was already piecing together the puzzle. "Actually, there's a twisted logic to it," he explained, his words tumbling out rapidly. "Each mutilation corresponds to the victim's role in the industry. Singers silenced, a guitarist robbed of his ability to play, and a manager blinded, unable to oversee his clients. The unsub is targeting what makes each victim valuable in their profession."

"Do we know who we're meeting?" Reid inquired, his curiosity piqued.

Morgan nodded, consulting the notes from their technical analyst, Penelope Garcia. "Her stage name is Y/S/N, twenty-six years old. She's the lead singer of a band called The Springs. The band's manager reported an attempted abduction last night. She fits our victim profile perfectly: female, location in Nashville, related to a band. This is our first witness, Reid. She could be our key to catching this guy."

As they entered the recording studio, a frazzled assistant greeted them. "Hi, I'm Cary, the manager's assistant. Thank you so much for coming! Jason has been a nervous wreck. Please, follow me."

Morgan took the lead, his FBI credentials at the ready. "I'm Agent Morgan, and this is Dr. Reid. We need to speak with Y/S/N as soon as possible."

Cary nodded, guiding them towards a red door. With each step, the muffled sound of music grew louder, and a hauntingly beautiful voice became clearer.

"The band is actually recording their latest song right now," Cary explained in a hushed tone. "You'll need to be quiet, but the manager will brief you further."

As they approached the studio, the lyrics washed over them:

Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me I know I could've loved you, but you would not let me

A chill ran up Reid's spine. Something about that voice tugged at his memory, but before he could place it, he collided with Morgan's back.

A man stood before them, his face etched with worry. "Thank you for coming. I'm Jason, the band's manager. I wanted to take her straight to the police station, but she insisted on—" His eyes widened in recognition. "Spencer?"

Reid froze, suddenly face-to-face with a ghost from his past. "Uh, hi?" he managed, his usual social awkwardness winning again. How does one greet their ex-girlfriend's best friend after years of silence?

Morgan, sensing the tension, stepped between them. "I'm Agent Morgan, and this is Dr. Reid. We're here to speak with Y/S/N."

Jason's eyes darted between the two agents, his expression hardening. "Actually, I'd prefer if he wasn't here," he said, gesturing to Reid. "No offense, but I don't think it's wise for either of you to cross paths again."

Morgan, though confused by the unexpected connection, maintained his professional demeanor. "With all due respect, Dr. Reid and I work as a team. We both need to speak with Y/S/N to conduct a thorough investigation."

As the two men argued, Reid's gaze drifted to the recording booth. Through the glass, he caught sight of the band, and his breath caught in his throat. There, at the microphone, stood a face he thought he'd never see again—a face that to this day still haunts his most amazing dreams. 

I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you Give me just a chance

The lyrics pierced through Spencer Reid's carefully constructed walls, flooding his mind with memories he'd long tried to suppress. He was transported back to a time when life held more than just case files and criminal profiles—a time when he had someone to come home to, when he felt truly free rather than trapped within the labyrinth of his own brilliant mind. A time when he and Y/N L/N couldn't imagine a life without each other.

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

Despite his best efforts, Spencer's heart threatened to burst from his chest, yearning to reunite with its other half. For that was what Y/N had been—his perfect complement. They had met when she was seventeen and he was nineteen, initially friends until, two years later, they could no longer deny the intensity of their feelings.

Their love had been a force of nature—intense, pure, raw, and undeniably real. Until life's cruel realities came knocking at their door.

Y/N was a free spirit, driven by her passion for music. She'd twirl until dizzy, her long hair a wild tangle, singing until her voice grew hoarse. Music moved her in a way nothing else could.

Meanwhile, Spencer was on the cusp of graduating from the FBI Academy, with whispers of a fast-track position in the prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Two paths diverging, leading to an impossible choice.

He did what he thought he had to do, breaking things off for both their sakes. He had run the probabilities, analyzed every scenario, and a happy outcome seemed frustratingly out of reach. They wanted different things, or so he had convinced himself.

That fateful night was seared into his memory. Y/N was about to leave for New York to meet with a record label—an opportunity that Jason, her best friend and now manager, had excitedly relayed during their date. Spencer saw the yearning in her eyes, the spark of a dream about to be realized. And so, he made the agonizing decision to end things.

Her tears, her desperate pleas, her hands clutching at him as he walked away—it all haunted him still.

Was I just a fool?

I'll follow you down 'till the sound of my voice will haunt you

Spencer watched, transfixed, as Y/N sang in the recording booth. She swayed to the rhythm, smiling at her bandmates, lost in the music. Everything about her still captivated him. Their relationship had been a bittersweet dream he never wanted to wake from.

Give me just a chance

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you

He stood rooted to the spot, oblivious to Derek's hand on his shoulder or the sudden silence as the band stopped playing. Then, Y/N turned towards the glass, and their eyes met for the first time in years. The world seemed to stop spinning.

Her gaze flicked to Jason, her expression morphing into a glare as she mouthed, "What the fuck?" The spell broken, she grabbed her bag and bolted through the back door.

Everyone sprang into action. Jason was the first to follow, with Derek close behind. Spencer remained frozen until his partner turned him around.

"Look, I don't know what history you have here," Derek said, his voice laced with concern and confusion, "but we have a job to do. If you can't handle this, go wait in the car. If you can, let's move." He pressed the car keys into Spencer's hand before chasing after Jason.

Against his better judgment, Spencer followed. A selfish part of him needed to be near her, even if it meant causing more chaos.

As he approached, he heard Y/N's voice, sharp with anger and pain. "I don't give a fuck if he's the president of the goddamn country. I'm not speaking to him. So you can either throw them out or let me leave."

Spencer rounded the corner to see Y/N already in her car, engine running, poised to flee.

"Look, Miss," Derek began, his voice firm but empathetic, "we can't let you go. You're the only survivor of this serial killer. If you don't talk to us, more people will die. Is that something you can live with?"

Jason, his arm still through the car window, pleaded with his client. "Come on, Y/N. You and I both know they're here to help. Let's get this over with, and then we can get you out of state within hours. This is for your safety and the safety of others."

Y/N's gaze flickered between her manager, the new agent, and Spencer, who was approaching hesitantly. With a heavy sigh and her heart in her throat, she turned off the ignition and moved to open the door, forcing Jason to step back.

"Get me a whiskey and a glass of milk," she demanded, grabbing her purse and striding back into the building without a glance at the agents.

Jason turned to Derek, his expression grave. "I strongly advise against having him there," he said, nodding towards Spencer. "As you can see, it won't end well if he's present."

Derek, still loyal to his partner, bristled at the suggestion. "And I advise you not to tell an FBI agent how to do his job. We've got it from here." He turned to Spencer, concern evident in his eyes. "Is he right? Should I listen to him?"

"No. I'm fine," Spencer insisted, though his tense posture suggested otherwise.

"And what about her?" Derek pressed, before noticing Carly, the assistant, anxiously tapping her foot nearby.

"She's in room 24, waiting for you," Carly informed them, pointing towards a door. "Um... good luck!"

As they entered the room, they found Y/N and Jason in the midst of a heated discussion.

"Everything alright?" Derek intervened, causing Y/N to roll her eyes dramatically.

"Yup, everything's perfect!" Jason's forced cheerfulness was palpable. "You guys can have a seat. I'll be right outside." He looked at Y/N sternly. "Be good. And tell them everything, please."

"Yes, Dad," Y/N replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she took a sip of whiskey. Once Jason left, she glanced between Derek and Spencer. "Well, are you going to sit down, or are we having a stand-up interview?"

Derek motioned for Spencer to sit beside him, both agents studying the woman before them. Y/N held a cigarette in one hand and whiskey in the other, while a glass of milk sat on the side table—an odd combination that spoke volumes about her state of mind.

"I'm Agent Morgan, and I believe you know Dr. Reid," Derek began cautiously. "We just have a few questions about what happened to you yesterday."

Y/N took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaling slowly before tapping it on the ashtray. "And what exactly do you want to know, Agent?"

Spencer cleared his throat, drawing her attention. "Jason mentioned you survived a failed abduction. Can you walk us through what happened?"

Y/N tilted her head, her gaze fixed on Spencer with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. "We finished recording one of our songs yesterday, and the band wanted to go out for drinks. I was still hungover from the night before, so I decided to sit that one out." She took a gulp of whiskey, chasing it with milk in a bizarre ritual. "I stayed in the studio for a few hours, just writing. Around three a.m., I decided to head back to my hotel. I'd parked two blocks away, and as I approached, I noticed someone loitering near the parking lot entrance."

"Did you engage with him?" Derek interjected, earning an eye roll from Y/N.

"I'm not fucking stupid," she snapped. "I walked past as quickly as possible. He tried to talk to me, but I ignored him. Guess he didn't appreciate that, because the next thing I knew, he was behind me, trying to force a plastic bag over my head."

The room fell silent as the gravity of her words sank in. Spencer leaned forward, his analytical mind already piecing together the details. "Can you describe the attacker? Any distinguishing features, voice, or mannerisms?"

Y/N's eyes locked with Spencer's, a flicker of their shared past evident in her gaze before she quickly looked away. "He was tall, probably six feet or so. Muscular build. I didn't get a good look at his face, but his voice..." She paused, taking another drag of her cigarette. "His voice was deep, with a slight Southern drawl. Not local, though. Maybe Texas or Oklahoma."

Derek nodded, jotting down notes. "How did you manage to escape?"

They could see Y/N physically reliving the traumatic experience, her leg bouncing with increasing anxiety. The calm facade she had maintained began to crack under the weight of her memories.

"Hey, it's okay," Derek said softly, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Take your time."

For a moment, Y/N seemed to relax, but just as quickly, her emotional walls snapped back into place. She crushed out her cigarette and downed the rest of her whiskey in one swift motion.

"I'd heard about the murders before," she began, her voice steadier than her trembling hands. "Even before that, I always carried a pocket knife and pepper spray. Call it paranoia or just good sense in this industry." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "I managed to scratch his left arm before kicking him. When he loosened his grip, I turned and pepper-sprayed him. Then I just... ran. Got to my car and drove straight hotel. That's when I called Jason."

Derek leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "And you didn't think to call the police?"

Y/N's eyes flashed with anger. "I wanted to forget about it," she snapped. "I was planning to leave anyway. Sometimes denial feels safer than facing reality."

"Yet you still came in to record a song right after that?" Spencer's quiet question drew her attention, earning him a look that was equal parts resentment and something harder to define.

"I have a job," Y/N replied, her tone clipped as she turned back to Derek. "We have an album coming out soon, and we needed to finish recording. We love working in Nashville, so yes, I wanted to get it over with and then leave. Music... it's always been my escape."

Spencer cleared his throat, treading carefully. "Can you describe anything else about him? Any details you remember?"

Y/N's gaze softened almost imperceptibly as she looked at Spencer. "I think he was wearing a blue sweater, but I'm not certain." She paused, her brow furrowing in concentration. "What I do remember clearly is his smell. It was... odd. Like scented candles, the kind you'd find at Bath & Body Works. It was strangely out of place, but unmistakable."

Derek nodded, jotting down notes. "Alright, thank you for your time, Y/N. Here's our contact information if you remember anything else or need assistance." He stood, extending his hand, which Y/N shook briefly. As he walked to the door, he noticed Spencer hadn't moved. "Spencer?"

Spencer glanced between Derek and Y/N, who was now staring at him intently. "Give me a second," he said quietly. "I'll meet you at the car."

Derek hesitated, giving Spencer a questioning look. The younger agent's eyes pleaded for understanding, for a moment alone with the woman who had once meant everything to him. With a slight nod, Derek acquiesced and left the room.

As the door closed, the air grew thick with unspoken words and years of regret. Spencer and Y/N sat in tense silence, neither quite ready to bridge the chasm between them.

Finally, Spencer spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Y/N, I... I'm sorry. For everything. I know it doesn't change anything, but I need you to know that."

Y/N's carefully constructed mask slipped, revealing a glimpse of the pain she'd been carrying for years. "Why now, Spencer? After all this time?"

"Because I never stopped caring," he admitted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "And seeing you in danger..." He couldn't even finish that sentence. "Please, promise me you'll be careful. 

Y/N studied him for a long moment, conflict evident in her eyes so she does what she does best. Ignore it.  "Congratulations are in order, Mr. FBI," Y/N said sardonically, reaching for another cigarette. The acrid smell of tobacco filled the air, a scent that brought back a flood of memories for Spencer.

"Smoking causes about 90% of all lung cancer deaths," he recited, unable to stop himself. "More women die from lung cancer each year than from breast cancer." It was an old argument, one they'd had countless times before.

Y/N took a long, deliberate drag, exhaling slowly as if to challenge his statistics. "We're all meant to die one day, Spence," she said, her voice tinged with a familiar fatalism. "I always told you that."

Indeed, she had. It was her motto, her way of justifying living life to the fullest, consequences be damned.

"I thought you quit," Spencer said softly, his eyes fixed on the glowing ember of her cigarette. "When did you start again?"

"A few months after my twentieth birthday," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor. "The record label signed us, and suddenly we went from doing a few covers a week to churning out originals every month. Needed a stress reliever."

Spencer studied her, noting the way she avoided his eyes. There was more to the story, he was certain. "Y/N/N," he said gently, using the old nickname that once came so easily to his lips, "are you okay?"

Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "Why would you assume I'm not?"

"Well," Spencer began, slipping into his analytical mode, "you drank that whiskey rather quickly. Your eyes are bloodshot, and you're flushed—signs of prolonged alcohol consumption. The fact that you're willing to record and drive in this state suggests it's become a habit. And then there's the cigarette addiction. So, naturally, I'm concerned about your well-being."

Silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken words and years of separation. Y/N broke first, standing abruptly and grabbing her purse. "I've told you what you needed to know," she said, her voice brittle. "I have to leave. Hopefully, Jason's already arranged my flight out of here."

As she turned to go, Spencer's hand shot out, catching her wrist. The contact sent a jolt through both of them—a spark of electricity, familiar yet now terrifyingly foreign.

Y/N's eyes traveled from his hand to his face. "Let go, Spencer," she said, her voice low and dangerous.

He couldn't. Not yet. Not when he'd finally found her again, when there was so much to explain, so much unfinished between them. But he also knew that Derek would come bursting through the door at any moment.

With reluctance, he released her wrist and pulled out a post-it note and pen from his bag. Hastily scribbling his number, he held it out to her. "Take it. Please. If you need anything—and I mean anything—call me, okay?"

Skepticism clouded Y/N's features. Did he really expect her to take his number, to even consider calling him after everything?

Seeing her hesitation, Spencer pressed on. "Look, Y/N, I know you have every reason not to trust me, to want me out of your life. But please, give me a chance to prove that I'll be there for you. We'll catch the guy who attacked you, and if you need help with anything else, anything at all, come to me. Please."

Y/N stared into his pleading eyes. A part of her recognized his sincerity, but the wounded 20-year-old inside her still ached from old betrayals.

With a resigned eye roll, she snatched the note from his hand and left without a word, leaving Spencer rooted to the spot.

As she passed a trash can in the hallway, Y/N paused, the note burning a hole in her hand. For a moment, she hovered on the brink of tossing it away. But something—sentiment, curiosity, or perhaps a stubborn refusal to let go—made her slip it into the back pocket of her jeans instead.

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

The lyrics of her song echoed in Spencer's mind as he watched her go. And in that moment, he realized with startling clarity that he didn't want to get away. Not anymore. Not ever again.

As Y/N disappeared from view, Spencer was left alone with the lingering scent of her perfume and cigarette smoke, and the weight of years of regret. He knew that solving this case was now about more than just catching a killer—it was about second chances, redemption, and the possibility of healing old wounds.

With a deep breath, he steeled himself to face Derek and the investigation ahead, all while knowing that the most challenging case of his life might just be winning back the trust of the woman he'd never stopped loving.

Author's Note: I absolutely love Silver Springs. I belt it out all the time lol. I also was obsessed with Daisy Jones & The Six when it came out. Used to read a lot of those fanfics.

Also let me know if y'all want a part 2.

Thank for reading!

[celaenaeiln]

Hiii, how are you? I’m new in the Batman fandom, but i saw a lot of people saying that Jason is actually Batman’s favorite child, and when i was reading the comics, i really though that Dick is Bruce absolute favorite, but i saw a lot of posts here on tumblr of the fandom saying is actually Jason and that the batkids all know its Jason, but i don’t know what is canon and what is fanon (quite honestly when it comes about the batfam i don’t like a lot about the fanon version 😭), so i wanted to ask you about it

And sorry if i said something wrong, english is not my first language

Hi and no worries at all!!

Yeah, canonically Dick is Bruce's favorite by a LONG shot and canonically the batkids all know this.

Infinite Crisis Issue #3

It's says right here in the comics. Really explicitly. But not only that, time and time again, there is clear evidence of Bruce's preferential treatment of Dick over the rest of the batkids.

One time the batboys and Bruce are searching for a guy that kinda is using the Gotham criminals as his subjects. So what they decide to do is split up to narrow him down.

Detective Comics (2016) Issue #1057

But they run into issues because the villains chose a 'divide and conquer strategy"

Detective Comics (2016) Issue #1057

Bruce gets swept away! Because of a carefully planned trap. But do you what he does the second he wakes up?

Detective Comics (2016) Issue #1058

JDAKFA;BFJALEC

BRUCE LITERALLY WENT: "I love Dick and all the other not-Dicks equally" !!!!!

As if that's not enough, Bruce's biggest fear is that he's not good enough for Dick.

Bruce's fear about Dick-

Batman vs Robin Issue #3

because he believes this -

vs

Bruce's fear about Jason -

Batman vs Robin Issue #3

because he believed he failed to do this -

Batman: Hush

Reminder: Joe Chill is Martha and Thomas Wayne's killer. Enough said.

If you want to be even more explicit about Bruce's preference for Dick over Jason it can't be clearer than here:

Bruce reflects on Jason's Robin tenure -

Batman (1940) Issue #428

Something a lot of people don't know/refuse to acknowledge is that Jason canonically did have anger issues. There aren't a lot of parallels between Jason and Dick but one particular thing that DC points out is that Jason and Dick both lost their beloved fathers. The difference is that Dick was able to move on and become cheerful even if he didn't get revenge. Jason wasn't able to get over the loss of his father and became angry. UTRH makes a specific point of talking about this too.

Batman (1940) Issue #645 "He knew that Jason Todd was NOT Dick Grayson."

Do you remember why Jason became Robin?

Batman (1940) Issue #416

Bruce wanted Dick. He took in Jason in replacement for Dick. But Jason was not Dick and even on the day he died, all Bruce could think of was that taking in Jason was a mistake.

The batkids are well aware of this. Damian actually calls Jason Bruce's mistake too when he's recounting the story of the robins.

Here's what he says -

Batman (1940) Issue #713

That's Damian's retelling. Tim's is even worse -

A Lonely Place of Dying

Ouch.

Truthfully Jason is like Bruce's 4th favorite. In order of how much Bruce loves his kids it goes:

Dick

Damian

Cass

Jason/Tim (tie)

Tim/Jason (tie)

Steph

I think there's so much confusion about Jason supposedly being the favorite because Bruce grieved over Jason's that but I think a lot of people are conflating grief and self-blame with love. There have been two significant deaths in the family: Jason and Damian. If you look at how Bruce reacted in each aftermath, it becomes clear that he loves Damian more than he loved Jason.

After Jason's death:

Batman (1940) Issue #429

Batman (1940) Issue #431

After Damian's death:

Batman and Robin (2011) Issue #21

Batman and Robin (2011) Issue #20

He would forcefully make Jason relive the worst day of his life so that his other son could enjoy his.

Bruce's behavior after Jason's death was self-destructive and isolative but his behavior after Damian's death was to beat bloodly every single criminal. His reasoning for beating Dick after Jason's death was "Jason was your replacement. If you hadn't left I wouldn't have had to take him in and he wouldn't have died." His reason for beating Jason after Damian's death was "Your trauma matters so little to mean that all I want is Damian to live again and I couldn't care less about how you feel."

In summary, Jason wasn't Bruce's favorite either as Robin or as an adult. But even if it's not Dick, claiming that Jason is the favorite is so far off that no one is DC would remotely believe it. You would think there would be more analysis on Damian's death in comparison to Jason's because they were two big official deaths but I guess not for some reason. I ran out of image space but yeah there's more than just this overall. This isn't to say that Bruce doesn't love Jason. NO! He very much loves him. But he just doesn't love him the most.

On a different note - coming from someone who went from TT show to YJ to fanfic AND THEN reading comics, I've had relearn a lot about each of the characters. But for people still in the process of transitioning from fanfic to comics or just in the fanfic stage, general rule of thumb when it comes to batfamily content - NEVER trust what people say if they don't provide the evidence for it. People in this fandom are so wild that they'll have you believing the earth is the center of the universe, that you'll fall off the world if you go too far left or right, and that pigs can fly.

[eternalbuckley]

Old letters and cheesy nicknames. — mattheo riddle

SUMMARY: Mattheo finds old letters you've sent to him over the years and remembers how they cherished him up through tough times. You find him on your bed and end up cuddling after teasing him with a nickname you used to tease him with when you were younger.

word count: 1,662

genre: fluff | no specified reader, queer!reader, bipoc!reader and plus-size!reader friendly

warnings/tropes: it's quite cheesy i think, it's mentioned that reader has parents and that they decorated a christmas tree, english is not my first language, slightly proofread — if I forgot something, please let me know!

a/n: i don't know how to feel about this but i needed to write some fluff for mattheo. i hope you enjoy it reading <3 reblogs, feedback and comments are highly appreciated and welcomed! ♡

disclaimer: please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work or post this anywhere without my consent. i don’t give you my permission to use my writing for any ai related things, don’t do it. do not translate my work and post it anywhere — i give you no permission to do that. i only post my stories here, so if you find my work anywhere else please let me know!

golden divider by saradika-graphics

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Mattheo knelt on the wooden floor of your shared bedroom and went through an old box that was hidden in your closet. A chuckle left his lips as he found the letters he had kept over the years, some of them included different pictures of you or anything you wanted to share with him. He slowly got up and took the box with him; the floor creaked as he walked over to your bed. He sat down on the mattress, which slightly dipped because of his body. He turned on the lamp that was on his nightstand and opened the first envelope. A smile made its way to his lips as he started reading the first lines, it was a letter you sent him years ago when you were in your early years of being friends, back when you two were still students at Hogwarts and used to call him with those weird and cheesy nicknames, only to tease him. He used to pretend to hate them, but he secretly enjoyed every moment you came up with a new one. He cherished them, and combined with your playful and dramatic side? It made everything better for him within seconds.

“Hello, my dearest cutie pie,

how are you doing on this fine, sweet day? I just ate waaaay too many muffins. My mother made those moist muffins I told you about a few weeks ago, and they were sooo good. I wish you could smell and get a taste of them, but I may have eaten all of them already. :p I couldn’t resist them, don’t blame me.

We just decorated the Christmas tree. I even hung up the ornament you gifted me before we left. My parents love it (they really do!!!), so you know, it will be a part of the tree every year from now on. Oh, and they’d love to meet the guy I’ve told them about, maybe it can happen someday? Unless you can’t deal with my wonderful magical being anymore. That would be fine. (I would kick your ass ♡)

How are your holidays so far? Are your parents having a better time this year, or is it not going so well… I hope it’s the first option. As soon as we’re back in school, I’ll hug you anyway, even if you don’t want to.

I’m sending you much love, my cutie pie. I hope you miss me as much as I miss you.

Your sexy best friend :p”

It was one of many letters you’ve sent to Mattheo, most of the times you wrote to him were about updating him about your life during each holiday and how much you missed him, trying to cheer him up with each written word. Sometimes, you sent him a letter while you were in school, especially when you noticed that he wasn’t having a good day – you wanted to cheer him up.

Back then, you were just friends. Best friends if you want to be clearer. The bond between you became stronger over the years, some of your friends were surprised that you’d voluntarily spend time with the former Slytherin boy. Given his reputation, some people used to stay as far away from him as possible – you used to do the same in your first two years in school. Your friendship started in quietly acknowledging each other whenever you passed ways in the halls or saw him in the library. Somewhere, he was barely seen until you two started hanging out more. You often spent your afternoons with him, sometimes in Hogsmeade, sometimes in the library or outside.

Something you’ve noticed over time was that he wasn’t like the guy everyone told you or talked about in the halls of Hogwarts. Sure, there were reasons why he had his reputation, but Mattheo was acting differently in your presence. The more time you spent with each other and the more you grew closer, the more he let his walls down and opened up to you. Talking with you about his family and what it was like living with them – that it wasn’t the easiest time most of the days. You never judged him for the way he was and appreciated him even more after he told you all these things and trusted you enough to open up to you. You started to care for him and appreciate every time he was talking about the things he had on his heart and mind.

It wasn’t easy for him; he was scared that you’d find something one day that would make you hate him, but this day never came. Even today, he finds himself being worried that you might leave him. Especially if he fucked something up and you had an argument about it, he was scared. But unless he deeply hurts you, you’d never leave him. You couldn’t. You loved him too much for you to end up leaving him out of nowhere.

He opened another letter, and his smile grew, it was a letter you sent him after your graduation. It was a time when both of you had realised for a while that you had feelings for the other one but were too afraid to admit them.

“To my dearest friend Mattheo,

whom I will cherish for the rest of my life and who’ll never get rid of me.

I’m sitting in my bedroom right now, and it’s weird living alone now. I still haven’t unpacked most of my boxes, and I honestly don’t know where to fucking start. It’s weird to think about living alone now… After having shared my dorm with other students and knowing that there was always someone nearby. You weren’t alone, but now? I barely know anyone here where I live, only Hermione and Ron. Hopefully, Theo and Enzo are treating you well from now on. They better are, or else….. I’ll find something to threaten them.

Have I told you that I have an elderly lady living next to my flat? She seems nice, and kind of reminds me of Professor McGonagall in some ways. She always bakes me something and leaves it in front of my door. I think I’ll make her a gift to thank her. But other than that, I barely know anyone here. :(

I wish you could live here, so we could spend time together. Even if you think this place wouldn’t fit you, I know it would. You’ll see when you visit me!! :p

I miss you,

your smartest and hottest best friend. xx

PS.: Let me know when you plan to visit me so I can ask my mum to bake you those muffins you and I love. “

“Babe?” you called out for him as you sat on the couch in your living room. Too lazy to stand up, but you huffed and got up from your comfortable seat because Mattheo didn’t reply.

You set your book on the coffee table and walked into your bedroom. You found your boyfriend sitting on your bed with a letter in his hands. Your lips curved up into a smile as you noticed his smile and that he was rereading one of your letters.

“Oh my god, you still have them?” You chuckled and leaned against the doorframe of your bedroom, watching him with a fond expression. You didn’t know that he kept your letters, but it made you even happier that he kept them all over the years.

Mattheo hummed happily and looked up to you, “I kept each of them.” He spoke softly and patted the place next to him, moving the box with the letters aside as you sat down next to him cross-legged.

You laughed quietly as you read the letter about the Christmas tree and the muffins. Nostalgia and memories flooded your mind as you finished reading the letter. “I forgot I used to call you cutie pie,” your voice was filled with affection as you reread the first line.

He couldn’t help but chuckle and showed you a few other letters, each of them addressed with a different cheesy nickname. “Back then, I wanted to hate you for them,” he admitted, his voice filled with amusement, but even as he spoke, you both knew that he wasn’t telling the truth.

You grinned and lifted your head to look at him, “You secretly loved them, be honest,” you teased him and watched him as he rolled his eyes playfully, which earned him a hit on his chest and ended in a shared laughter. “You never told me that you kept them.”

He slowly nodded, “I did. Whenever I got them, I was happy for a moment, especially if times weren’t….” He paused for a moment and inhaled, “When times weren’t so great at home. Your letters made me feel better, even the few ones you sent to me during school.” He put the letter he was holding back into its envelope and put the box on the nightstand.

With a quick move, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you towards him. He let himself fall back against the mattress, and you ended up facing each other while lying on your sides. A giggle left your lips, which caused him to smile. You moved your arms around his neck and left small featherlight kisses on his cheeks, his lips and the tip of his nose. A soft hum left his lips as he melted into you even more with each kiss.

“I love you so much,” he whispered and pressed a gentle kiss on your lips. You returned his kiss and pulled him closer to deepen the kiss. You gently traced his neck with your fingertips and slowly pulled away from him, “I love you more, my dearest cutie pie,” you grinned teasingly and yelped as he turned you over and hovered over you. “You’re the best that happened to me in my life,” he whispered and kissed you again.

[dixons-sunshine]

Holding On To You | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Despite not being too keen on PDA, Daryl craved comfort too. He got that comfort by holding your hand in his. It wasn't always that simple, though. He had to work his way up to being comfortable with that. Luckily, you were a patient person.

Or, three different scenarios in where the archer shows progress in his comfort with you.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Pre-prison (on the road); pre-Alexandria; Alexandria, pre Saviour arc.

Warnings: Swearing, migraines, mentions of injuries.

Word count: 2.1k

A/n: @louifaith, the muse you are, feeding our Daryl obsessed minds with your beautifully crafted scenarios. I wasn't feeling well today (a migraine and I was pretty dizzy) and didn't get much writing done, but this idea deserved to be written. There's a bit of Eugene slander in this but it's because I don't really like S5 Eugene. He's way better in the other seasons imo. Anyways, I hope you like this!

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

The cruelty of life seemed endless. With the stability and safety of the farm being something of the past, having to scavenge for scraps and having to move from house to house every few days, and with the impending arrival of Lori's little baby, everyone's spirits were diminished. Everyone longed for the comfort the farm brought for those few weeks you had all been looking for Sophia, everyone wanted a decent meal to satiate their hunger and although Lori's unborn baby was a reminder that innocence still existed, it was also a cruel reminder that you all needed to find someplace to plant some roots, and fast—especially if you didn't want to attract the dead with the baby's loud crying.

You sighed softly as you quietly followed behind Daryl, yours and his boots making clear tracks in the deep snow. The archer, as observant as ever, noticed your shift in mood and turned his head, eyeing you carefully.

“Ya alrigh'?” he questioned, turning his attention back to the tracks in front of him. Your relationship was pretty new, only having been "officially" together since the two of you had shared a kiss back after the fall of the farm.

You nodded, although he couldn't see you. “I'm fine.”

Daryl hummed, unconvinced. “Yer not fine. I know ya better than tha'.”

Your lips twitched up into a smile, walking a little faster to walk next to him. Daryl slowed his pace slightly to allow you to walk next to him at a steady pace, eyeing you as you adjusted your compound bow over your shoulder—a gift he had gotten you when you had mentioned wanting to learn how to hunt.

“I'm fine, I promise. I'm just tired, that's all,” you replied reassuringly, walking almost shoulder to shoulder with your partner.

Daryl shot you a worried look, fully prepared to head back. “If yer tired, we can go back. This trail ain't leadin' us anywhere, anyway.”

“I don't mean tired in the literal sense,” you corrected. “I'm just tired of all this moving around. Not knowing what our next meals going to be, if we even eat at all, not knowing when our current camp's going to be overrun with walkers, not knowing when Lori's baby's going to be here... It's mentally exhausting. We all need a break.”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We could do with a couple' of days where we ain't gotta worry.”

Before you could respond, there was a snap of a twig ahead of the two of you. Instinctively, you and Daryl raised your respective weapons in the direction of the noise, expecting to find a walker staggering towards you. However, instead of coming face to face with danger, you saw a small deer walking over to something in the distance.

Daryl raised his crossbow, aiming to take the shot. However, your hand on his arm halted his intentions. He shot you a questioning look, but you only hushed him and beckoned for him to follow you. The two of you slowly crept closer, the scene before you becoming clearer. The small deer made its way to what was presumably its mother, nuzzling against her legs.

You smiled softly at the sight. Despite the fall of the world, beauty still remained. Unbeknownst to you, Daryl was thinking the exact same thing at that moment, but he wasn't looking at the deer. He was gazing at you, taking in your radiant smile, the sparkle in your eyes, just everything about you. You truly were beautiful to the archer.

Hesitantly, Daryl brushed his hand against yours. Your smile widened but you made no move to grab his hand, not wanting to scare him off. You moved at his pace, and whether he held your hand at that moment was his decision.

In the end, the only thing he did was link his pinky with yours, and it was a perfect moment for you. In your mind, that was really good progress for a man who wasn't familiar with giving or receiving comfort. You'd wait as long as you needed to for Daryl to be comfortable around you. You'd never push him, never.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

The road seemed endless. You listened to the incessant yapping from one of your newest companions in your group of ragtag survivors, Eugene Porter, and had to resist the urge to tell him to shut up. Despite the euphoria and relief that came with reuniting with your group and having new members that could help you all, you were tired. Not just physically, but mentally, too. It was so much worse this time around than when you were initially on the road two years back. You were sporting a bruised cheek with deep cuts and scrapes littering the rest of your body, and you had a raging migraine.

And Eugene's droning wasn't helping matters at all.

As if sensing your deteriorating resolve at not biting the poor man's head of, Rick finally called for a break. “We rest here for now. We'll get moving again in an hour. Everything you want to do, do it now. Once we move again, we're not stopping until nightfall.”

Everyone soon dispersed, some heading to a nearby creek to refill the water supply, some starting a small fire to heat up some food and some even laying down on the hard ground to get some much needed sleep. You walked over to a tree and slid down against it, resting your head on your knees, willing the migraine away.

You soon heard a rustling next to you, before feeling a body sitting down next to you. You didn't even have to look up to know it was Daryl—the archer's presence was something you had grown used to and you could identify him anywhere.

“Hey,” he greeted you quietly, loosely hugging his knees. “Ya alrigh'?”

You hummed, lifting your head to look at him. “I'm fine,” you replied. “I just have a migraine.”

Daryl nodded, his face showing sympathy for you. “M'sorry we dun' have anythin' fer yer migraine. I know how bad they can get.”

You smiled and shook your head, placing your hand on the ground beside you, right between you and Daryl. “It's okay. It'll go away eventually. It's not that bad, as long as Eugene's quiet.”

Daryl chuckled, eyeing the aforementioned man who was sitting near the campfire. “Yeah, he's quite annoying, ain't he?”

“No, he's alright. He just needs to learn to be quiet from time to time.”

Daryl hummed and quieted down, simply basking in the early afternoon heat under the shade of the tree while the two of you observed the survivors going about their chores. However, Rick soon called for everyone to regroup, and you and Daryl got up to follow behind him.

You and Daryl walked at the back, giving you some semblance of privacy, and some semblance of relief from Eugene's rambling as he was at the front with Abraham and Rosita. Slowly and hesitantly, Daryl moved closer to you and brushed his hand against yours, before slowly interlacing his fingers through yours.

You smiled up at him, and he returned the smile with a small one of his own. It may not have been the first time that you've held hands with the archer, but it was the first time that you've done so with people around. Although Daryl slightly manoeuvred the two of you in a way that your locked hands wouldn't draw attention if people weren't directly looking at you, it was still a big deal for you. He was starting to show you off publicly. Although people back at the prison knew you as "the hunter's girl" because of an incident where a guy flirted with you and Daryl put him in his place, PDA wasn't something they ever saw from the man. He preferred to keep that part of your lives private—so this simple gesture was a big deal.

You squeezed his hand, a gesture you and Daryl had come up with to quietly tell the other "I love you". Daryl smiled softly and squeezed your hand back.

You truly loved this man, and he had shown countless times that he loved you, too.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

“You guys should come over again. This was nice,” Eric told you with a smile, him and Aaron walking out onto the porch with you and Daryl.

You smiled at him and nodded. “We will, especially if you're going to be serving that spaghetti you made again. It was delicious. Seriously, thank you. It's the best meal we've had in a while.”

“No thanks necessary,” Aaron replied, waving you off. “It was our pleasure.”

Daryl nodded, moving to shake Aaron's extended hand. “Thanks. This was a hell of a lot better than tha' party at Deanna's woulda been.”

Aaron nodded and withdrew his hand again, allowing Eric to take his place before moving over to give you a hug. You returned it before giving Eric a hug too, and then pulled back.

“We should get going. Once again, thanks for tonight.”

“Once again, it's our pleasure,” Eric laughed. “Goodnight, guys. We'll see you around.”

“Goodnight,” you greeted them.

“Nigh',” Daryl responded, turning to you and subconsciously extending his hand to you.

You smiled at him but didn't say anything, not wanting him to change his mind about it. You slipped your hand into his and walked with him down the porch steps and into the relatively quiet streets of Alexandria, music from Deanna's party playing very faintly in the background.

You and Daryl didn't instantly go home. You simply walked through the streets, familiarising yourselves with the community. Daryl never let go of your hand; he had even brought your hand up to his lips once to kiss your knuckles, and your heart swelled with love for the man.

The two of you had run into a couple of the people in the community who were returning to their homes after the party, and you had suspected that Daryl would pull his hand from yours, but he never did. His grip on your hand seemed to tighten slightly during your interactions with those people, seeking your comfort around people he didn't know. It made you feel special, important. It made you happy to know that the man you met back at the quarry trusted you enough to bring him comfort.

Later that night, when the two of you returned to the empty house and retreated into the sanctuary of your shared basement, snuggled up together under the covers was when you finally addressed what he had done. Daryl was laying with his head on your chest, absentmindedly tracing shapes and figures onto your hand.

“You held my hand today,” you told him, softly threading your fingers through his freshly washed, brown locks, the shower having been courtesy of your skillful convincing.

“Mhm,” Daryl hummed absentmindedly, nuzzling his face deeper into your chest.

“In front of people,” you said, eyeing his reaction carefully.

Daryl simply glanced up at you, his face not revealing anything. “Ya want me to stop doin' tha'?”

You shook your head. “No, I like it. It's just a little out of the ordinary for you, and it took me by surprise.”

Daryl was quiet for a few moments. “I always wanna hold yer hand when we're walkin' together. I jus' never had the courage to. Dun' want people to overreact when they see it. But, I dunno... I love ya and I'll be damned if I dun' hold my girl's hand 'cause of wha' people think.”

You giggled and kissed the top of Daryl's head. “So I can expect an increase in handholding?”

Daryl nodded. “Yeah.”

You smiled at him. “Good. That's exactly what I wanted to hear. I love you, Dar.”

Daryl placed a kiss to your chest, before laying his head back down. “Love ya more, sunshine.”

[rainerioun]

𝖶𝖧𝖤𝖱𝖤 𝖶𝖨𝖫𝖫 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖡𝖤 𝖨𝖭 2 𝖸𝖤𝖠𝖱𝖲? | 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽.

— Hello! I know this is a shorter post, but I wanted to share something. This was requested anonymously, so thank you for the suggestion! ♥

ORIGINAL DATE POSTED : JUNE 16TH, 2024.

HOW TO CHOOSE A PILE : The outcome may vary based on whether you receive clear messages visually or intuitively. If you resonate more with selecting a pile visually, trust that inclination. Personally, I believe the notion that 'looks can deceive,' so I prefer to take a deep breath and close my eyes, allowing the pile I'm meant to connect with to come to me. You might see the color of the pile, sense or hear a number, or simply feel its overall vibe.

Please don’t redistribute or edit my content.

MUST READ + MASTERLIST. | KO-FI.

PILE ONE

Where Will You Be In 2 Years? The Empress [Reversed], The Chariot, Knight of Wands [Reversed].

In two years, you're definitely the one in control. If you're facing any hurdles, especially with dreams left unattended or ideas just lingering without action, that fades away over time. You might still encounter creative blocks and timing issues, but you'll handle them much more effectively, learning self-control and taking decisive action. You'll realize that your accomplishments don't solely define you; they're just an added bonus. You should know to slow down, it will grant you a clearer perspective to seeking security.

What Energy Will You Radiate? Networker — Light : Enhances unity through sharing of information. Engenders social awareness and empathy. Shadow : Conveys information only for person gain. Spreads fear and falsehood.  The Merchant : Self-worth, Trade. 

You could find yourself in a more social setting or perhaps in a higher position in your career, whether it's the same job or a new one. You're confident but not cocky, aware of your self-worth, and others notice this too. In some way, you seem to be a messenger, spreading kindness. This doesn't have to be taken literally; it could relate to anything. Whatever came to mind when you read that might be it.

PILE TWO

Where Will You Be In 2 Years? Ten of Pentacles, Knight of Swords, The Tower.

If you're starting something you've been wanting to begin or have been thinking about it, know now is the right time to do it. The next two years will be intense and different from what you're used to, but you can handle it. All your hard work will definitely pay off. In two years, you'll achieve what you wanted—be it wealth, security, or some kind of success. This will finally become permanent. However, expect significant changes, some of which you may not like at first. Any upheaval or chaos is just a way to build an even stronger foundation. For those considering starting a family, think about your circumstances carefully. Don't rush. This aspect will bloom within the coming years.

What Energy Will You Radiate? Queen — Light : Radiates the regal feminine. Uses her benevolent authority to protect others. Shadow : Becomes arrogant when authority is challenged. Controlling and demanding.  The Adventurer : Responsibility, Expectations.

Again, for those considering starting a family—if not, feel free to skip this part—you'll find yourself strongly in the parental role. This doesn't necessarily mean with a human child; just know you'll feel content. Some of you might be stressing over the mere thought, but rest assured, it'll bring fulfillment. As for the rest of you, you'll develop a stronger sense of responsibility. However, this doesn't mean you can't explore. The next few years are about stabilizing, rebuilding what's been lost, but in two years, you'll regain your 'freedom' once more. You are always the one in control, don't get lost in a little box.

PILE THREE

Where Will You Be In 2 Years? King of Swords, Seven of Cups, Four of Wands.

Pile three, you'll find yourself in a place of mental and physical clarity. It's a very calm and peaceful state. You're enjoying life, with a sense of harmony and relaxation. Home feels like a welcoming place. You deserve this, so keep following your instincts. There are many paths and decisions ahead, but there's no wrong choice. You get to decide for yourself. Whatever starts now will lead to peace in the future. While life won't be stress-free, you'll accept the struggles, not rushing to figure everything out immediately.

What Energy Will You Radiate? Hermit — Light : Seeks Solitude to focus intently on inner life. Serves personal creativity. Shadow : Withdraws from society out of fear or negative judgements of others. Refusing to help those in need.  The Vengeance : Overcoming Slights, A Choice. 

In two years, I envision you embracing the homebody life, in your own zone. It's all about you and your close circle. You'll find contentment in solitude, focusing on the little things with acceptance—chores, hobbies, and everyday routines. When I think of this scenario, I see someone sitting in a chair, leisurely watching their pet play without a worry in the world. It's a heartwarming scene; some of you might even welcome a new pet into your life. In two years, it's a time for retreat, and if you believe you can get there, you will.

[irisintheafterglow]

way hay, and up she rises! (opla!zoro x you)

summary: zoro leads the crew to an informant from his bounty-hunting days; they don't know his history with the pretty singer in the bar.

wc: 2.6k

cw/tags: swearing, implied fem!reader (wearing a skirt and makeup) but they/them pronouns used, basically singer/bodyguard trope, strangers to lovers, brief guy being an asshole (and protective zoro!), simp zoro, i love zoro, can you tell how much i love this man

note: do i imagine lucy gray baird when i think about reader singing in a bar? maybe a little bit. do i wish i could sing like rachel zegler as lucy gray baird? abso-fucking-lutely. i've been listening to a lot of random sea shanties lately so this is where that came from. hope you enjoy!

likes, reblogs, and replies are much appreciated!

“You’re sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Of all the times for you to doubt me, cook,” he says, catching the door with the toe of his boot and kicking it open, “I can say for certain, I have this under control.” His feet step through the doorway and he’s bombarded with jolly laughter, drunken singing, and a dancing fiddle. The patrons cheer with flasks and goblets in their hands, liquor splashing onto their neighbors when they slam their cups onto wooden tables. It’s warm like a hearth, not a hell, and the unkempt atmosphere wraps around him like a familiar blanket. Within seconds, he’s not a pirate anymore; he’s back to being a hunter. 

And there, swinging the edge of your skirt with a tambourine in hand, was you. The lantern light catches in your eyes in a way that makes them glow, enchanting him like a spell. You’re just as breathtaking as the last time he saw you, singing clearer than the stars shining on a winter night. When you speak, it’s like invisible ropes extend from your lithe fingers, grabbing each man by the ears and pulling them in to listen further. He’s no different, finding himself drifting toward your stage when a sudden hand tugs him away. 

“Hey, we’re going this way. Luffy found a table in the back,” Nami informs him over the controlled chaos of the bar. Her voice quiets as he follows her to a secluded corner, but her teasing was not lost to him. 

“Pretty interesting place you’ve led us to.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he replies blandly, still slightly awestruck from seeing you again.

“Got a crush on the singer?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he deadpans, sliding into the booth next to his beaming captain. He gladly accepts the bottle Usopp offers him, taking a swig without so much of a flinch when it burns down his throat and goes straight to his head. 

“What were you guys talking about?” Luffy pipes up and he doesn’t hide his grimace in time. “Did Nami say something to bother you, Zoro?” 

“Doesn’t she always?” An uneasy feeling settles in the pit of the swordsman’s stomach, one he could only explain by not having eyes on you. He was used to being here alone, where he could admire you without distraction. He knew he wasn’t ready for the crew’s interrogation about his history with you. “I just need something to drink.” 

“You’re already holding a bottle, if you’ve forgotten already,” Sanji reminds him. “Don’t make us drag your sorry ass out of another bar.” If looks could kill, Zoro couldn’t fathom the number of coffins the stupid cook would need. 

“Alright, alright,” Luffy interjects. “Zoro’s just been…stressed. We all deal with stress in our own ways.” 

“There are healthier ways to deal with stress than alcoholism,” Nami points out. “For instance, talking it out works wonders.”

“While I appreciate the concern, we’re here for information, not therapy,” Zoro states tersely, taking another gulp from his bottle. “We came a little early, so we’ll have to wait until the band is done with their set before we move in on the target.” His eyes drift back into your general direction, hoping there weren’t any guys giving you trouble. 

“Why can’t we just move in now? There’s enough chaos in the bar to be a distraction,” Luffy asks.

“Sanji and I could start a fight,” Usopp offers in response, holding up the cook’s wrist like he was ready for the first punch. “That worked last time.” Zoro shakes his head. 

“Too risky. The informant won’t say anything if we interrupt the music, especially if it’s a bar fight,” he replies, a fond look blinking across his face. “They’re a little��difficult, sometimes.” The pieces click together in Nami’s brain before he can stop her and the realization dawns on her in no time.  

“Your contact is the singer.” He shrugs one shoulder, not looking any of his crew in the eye and instead watching the growing crowd around your stage. “The singer you have a crush on?” Zoro’s head snaps back to reality and becomes all too aware of the heat growing on his cheeks. 

“I don’t have a crush on them,” he mumbles half-heartedly. 

“Aw, Zoro is in love!” Usopp sighs. “I always knew he had a heart.” 

“It’s not love. It’s just admiration, if anything,” he counters, but it’s no use. His crewmates were already on a roll. 

“I thought you said you had this under control,” Sanji recalls with a taunting smirk. 

“I do have this under control.”

“Your red complexion says otherwise,” the cook replies and Zoro’s frown deepens. It wasn’t part of his plan for the rest of his friends to find out about his relationship with you. In fact, accompanying him to the bar was not part of the plan in the first place. “Look, I’m happy for you. Honestly, I am. If you could do it, then I surely will find someone even better.” 

“That’s enough,” Nami cuts in before Zoro can unsheath a sword. He nods in curt gratitude, but she doesn’t let him off the hook. “However, as payback for not telling us about your little sweetheart, you’re gonna explain how you know them until their set is done.” 

“Says who?”

“Says us,” Usopp answers, holding up Sanji’s fist again and miming the cook punching him in the face. “Or, we’re gonna cause a scene and make them come to us first.” 

“You guys are impossible,” Zoro mutters under his breath. With a deep exhale, he establishes a single rule. “You don’t tell anyone about what I’m about to tell you, understand?” The crew nods. “Good, because if someone finds out about them, I’m gonna shave your heads while you sleep.” 

As with most people Zoro interacted with, you met him because of a fight.

“I didn’t need your help,” you had told him that night, resting your boot on a ribcage for leverage and yanking your sword from the dead assailant’s chest. “So, you can leave now.”

“I thought you said you had this under control,” he remarks, cleaning the blood from his blade and inserting it back into its sheath. 

“I do have this under control,” you reiterate with a glare. “It was just an off night.” 

“Pretty impressive for an off night, though your swordsmanship could improve.” His hand gestures vaguely at the half-dozen attackers lying at your feet, amateurs whose strength depended on their numbers. Numbers, which he'd helped you cut down when you didn’t show up at the meeting spot you’d agreed upon. 

“I can’t tell if you’re trying to insult me or compliment me,” you scoff.

“Doesn’t matter, as long as you keep talking,” he replies without missing a beat, following you through the backdoor of the bar and down a dusty hallway into what he presumed was a makeshift dressing room. “You could make a good career out of bounty hunting if you wanted to.” Closing the door behind him, he settles into a nearby chair and watches you tidy up trinkets on the vanity. 

“I don’t remember letting you come in here, much less telling you to have a seat.” Your guarded nature only intrigues Zoro more, but he’s more than willing to leave if you truly didn’t want him present. Something in his gut told him, though, that you secretly enjoyed the company. “And, no. I’m not interested in the violence of your world, only the information part.” 

“The information part you didn’t show up for,” he recalls with a scowl. You hum in fake sympathy at his displeasure. 

“And my sincerest apologies for getting attacked while on route to our meeting place,” you bite, shaking your head when he rolls his eyes. “Look, we’re here now, so just ask your questions and get out.” Zoro does ask his questions and you give him the answers he needs, but the lingering feeling of disappointment when he bids you farewell stays with him even after he collects the head you helped him find. So, with the reward money sitting heavy in his pocket, he returns to your run-down little bar the following week. 

Without the pressure of fulfilling a hunt weighing on his chest, he catches himself enjoying your performance a little too much. It was mesmerizing, the way you danced across the stage and blew kisses to drunken audience members. Zoro even found himself smiling when he was able to catch your eye. 

“I take it the hunt went well,” you say in greeting when he appears in the doorway of your dressing room. It’s after your band’s last set and you’re visibly more relaxed than the previous time he saw you. Instead of barging into your space, he simply leans a muscled shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed and observing you remove your makeup. 

“It did. Your little tip about the maid worked wonders.” 

“She’ll always turn a blind eye if it means a little extra money.” 

“She also knew the place better than the maps I was reading,” he adds. “I wouldn’t think to talk to her if it weren’t for you.” You dismiss his compliment with a wave of your hand. 

“The Lady of the House’s true right-hand is not her husband, but the one that cleans up after him,” you muse with a satisfied smile. He’s still standing in the doorway, you notice from the corner of your eye. “You can come in if you promise to explain why you’re back again.”

“Consider the promise made, then,” he replies, shutting the door and taking a seat the same way he did the week prior. “I wanted to apologize for getting off on the wrong foot.”

“The Demon of the East Blue apologizing to me? What a world we live in,” you quip and he chuckles. “For the record, I wasn’t mad at you. Well, not entirely.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Yeah, I was mad at you for interrupting the set to ask your questions, but I can’t blame you too much. It’s your first time here, after all.” He listens to your explanation intently, like there was no other voice he’d rather be hearing. “But for future reference, interrupting me while I’m singing will make other clients I serve a little jumpy.”

“They think you’re conspiring against them?”

“Exactly. I try to keep the same after-the-show policy with everyone, so if I give priority to one person, they’ll question my reliability.” He nods, your irritation suddenly making much more sense. 

“And when they question your reliability, they attack you outside the bar,” he concludes. 

“Mhmm, which was why I was late for our meeting. For that, I am sorry.” Your voice is softer than the candlelight illuminating the small room and he finds himself being drawn into you again, like a magnet. An idea pops into his mind, one that was sure to cost him a few hunts, but he’s sure you’re worth it.

“Ever think about hiring stage security?” 

“For a dirty-ass bar like this? Definitely not,” you laugh. “Maybe if I were playing for the general of the Marines, but here? That’s funny.” You thought that would be the end of your conversations with Zoro, but decided not to question his intentions when he showed up the following night. You spied him sitting in the same dark corner with a glass in his hand, watching you like you were the only being that mattered in his world. As the songs pass, your eyes find him on instinct and you’re rewarded with a rare grin that makes your stomach float. No sooner did you start your last set of the night, though, did a new client come storming into the bar. 

He was a Marine defector, one that was trying to make it onto some pirate’s ship before the government found him. In the second drawer of your dressing room vanity, you had a list of ships and ports that would guarantee him a smooth disappearance into the sea. He desperately needed the list and, being a new client, was clueless about your after-show policy. 

“Alright, give me the list. Let’s go,” he hissed once he reached the front of the stage, his words barely audible over the sound of your band. You attempt to smile and play him off as another drunk, but your amiable expression disappears when he tries to grab the edge of your skirt. “I’m not fucking messing around. Give me the fucking list.” As expected, your regular clients started to shift uncomfortably in their seats, looking at you and the greenie suspiciously. In their minds, you were giving special privileges to a new guy. “Stop being a bitch and give me the list.” The man reaches out to grab your skirt again when a strong hand shoves him away from you. 

“Get lost. They’re in the middle of performing.” You steal one glance at the swordsman in front of you, the one resting his hands menacingly on the hilts of his swords. His broad shoulders become a wall in front of you, impossible to pass without risking instant decapitation. The new client scurries away and you release a shaky breath, sending Zoro a grateful look when he’s back at his seat. Please stay, you mouth wordlessly. I’m not going anywhere, he mouths back.

He stays with you during your official meeting with the ex-Marine, arms crossed and stationed in the corner of your dressing room like a guard dog. When the meeting is over and Zoro’s all but thrown the man out of the building, he walks you home and waits until he hears your door lock before leaving. He’s back the next night, and the next, and the next, and all the nights afterward for nearly a year. You start to ask him about his past, his hunts, and his dreams. Little by little, you both start to take down your defenses and trust each other with vulnerability. He’s late, sometimes, when he gets caught in a hunt; but, you always end up finding him waiting for you in your dressing room. 

After he kisses you for the first time, you start inviting him in once he’s walked you home, impatiently locking your door before pulling him to your room. It’s little things that make you fall in love with him: waking up to find him hogging all of your blankets, resting on his bare chest and relishing in the feeling of his skin against yours, running a hand through his hair until he wakes up with a sleepy smile. He falls freely, hopelessly, and completely in love with you, too. 

He knows nothing has changed when you rush into his arms as soon as you see him in your dressing room. 

“Hey, songbird,” he mumbles while his arms lock around your waist. “I burn from missing you.”

“I’ve missed you more.” Your voice sounds muffled against his shoulder as your arms wind tightly around his neck. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, pulling you as closely to him as humanly possible. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Zoro felt at ease. “I thought I saw you walk in, but you didn’t go to your usual spot.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I have some…friends with me,” he says slowly, nudging the door open to reveal his crewmates eavesdropping from the hallway. You smirk knowingly, running the pad of your thumb over his cheekbone. “Alright, alright. Just say it–”

“I didn’t know you could make friends,” you tease and he prevents you from saying anything else by pressing his lips against yours. “Wanna introduce me to them?”

“Give me a second, baby,” he murmurs against your skin. “I need you to myself for a bit.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[kozachenko]

Here, have a fairly light sketch dump with two relatively complete sketches and some of the process for the main Zanmu one. Also, Gensokyo's specalist girl makes an appearance here too

Artist's Notes;

Zanmu is such a fun character to draw, like, there's so many little aspects in her design that you can emphasize, and her colour palette is so satysfying too. The reason I ended up drawing this was because when I was scrolling on Pinterest I found a specific pose that just screamed Zanmu to me (it was the skull that did it for me) and I just had to draw her in that pose. I did end up taking my liberties with my reference though, and also I am not drawing feet, I just straight up don't like it, and this is mainly something more on the sketchy side so it didn't really matter lol. Also, IDK too much about the hands, I'm usually pretty good with them but I struggled with them a bit this time. Also Zanmu is sitting on nothing because I just didn't feel like drawing what she was sitting on (plus I already drew in the clothes and including what she was sitting on would mean having to change the sleeves and I just didn't wanna do that lol). Also realized that I should probably start trying to improve on drawing frills in clothing, and I tried a new technique for drawing them. I do like how they look, but at the same time it can still be better.

I do love how Zanmu's pose turned out the most in this batch of sketches. In my process, I put the reference image on the canvas and then roughly blocked in the silhouette. One change I knew I wanted to make since the beginning of the sketching process was opening up the space between the bent arm and body more, mainly to make the silhouette of the pose clearer (even though with the addition of the clothes it does get closed up a lot). I also wanted to turn the torso towards the viewer and change the position of the legs to something more cross legged/casual. In another sketching pass, I just kinda quicjly scribbled what I wanted the pose to look like just so I could get my idea out and I'm glad I did that because that helped me focus more on the pose itself rather than the small details. Afterward, I did a sketch of the body, clothes, and hair all together and then coloured it to get the coloured Zanmu sketch!

Again, I could've done a better job with the feet and the legs themselves for that matter, but the nice thing about sketches is that they don't need to be perfect, and I was more so focused on the gesture/feel of the pose rather than the minute details. With her facial expression, I knew that I wanted something very specific with her eyes, so I just simplified it into this "almost closed" eye and I do like how it turned out a lot. Also, a problem that I often have drawing Zanmu is that in the poses I put her in, I don't really know how best to draw in those triangle cut outs she has, so instead, I added these little triangle details onto her sleeves and pants to add some visual interest and allude to them instead, also because they can kinda allude to a crown and Zanmu is the king of Hell so it fits lol (also, love it when people add details like that onto sleeves sm lol). The hair and tassles did a lot of heavy lifting when it came to making the drawing have a nice flow to it, and I have the headcanon that Zanmu is just able to make those float on there own by.... honestly I don't know, I just like the idea of her tassles defying gravity and floating all the time. Also IDK if you can see them, but I did make sure to include her scars as I'm basically adding that as a part of my way of drawing Zanmu. It just adds a certain something, y'know? Also found a specific reference for the skull and made it the red that it is in Touhou 19, and also because drawing skeletons and skulls is just fun lol.

Now onto Reimu, so that face drawing was mainly there just so I could get a better idea of how I wanted to draw her face in the future. My main concern was trying to make it different to Keiki and Zanmu's faces, so as I was sketching hers I had the drawings of Keiki and Zanmu's faces turned on to make sure I wasn't drawing the same thing again. Down here I included this little test I did where I hyper simplified the eyes of the three faces and just traced over their face shapes, noses, eyebrows, and mouths. While the nose is the most consistent trait shared among the three of them (tbf that can just be chalked down to an aspect of my style), I feel like the three are different enough from each other to where they don't have same face syndrome, even if you simplify the eyes into dots and also didn't include the detail of Zanmu's scars on her face.

I'm obsessed with giving Reimu these tiny little eyebrows for some reason, IDK it just works for her. I also really like using a red as a highlight for whenever I draw her hair black, mainly because it helps to give the illusion that her hair is just a really dark brown and incorperates her main colour of red into another aspect of the design. I also wanted to try and draw Reimu's eyelids differently to try and imply monolids but tbh IDK how well that reads. I also like how her pupils turned out, as I'm experimenting with different characters in my style having different kinds of pupils. I didn't even bother properly rendering her clothes, so I just did them linelessly (I think I wanna try drawing in my lineless style again for a future piece sometime as I kinda miss the feel it had). I of course had to give Reimu her big bow, and also use that specific shade of red. IDK what it is about that shade of red specifically, but I just love it, it looks so nice to me you have no idea- Now that I think about, I kinda wanna draw Reimu more now, as I feel like I can still do some more experimenting with how I draw her eyes specifically. Also because I've got some ideas when it comes to how I wanna draw her body type.

[yuyu1024]

Rebound

Pairings: s.coups/seungcheol × y/n

Genre/tags: friends/fwb

Warning: 🔞smut, a little fluff, cursing, semi public, dry humping, handjob, oral (m/f receiving), unprotected sex/drunk sex, mention of alcohol

(Always be safe and make sure to have consent... always...)

~~~~[lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 2.5k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

A/N: this might be all over the place since i wrote it while im trying to sleep🫠 Hope you all have a great week ahead....

Brb. 👩🏻‍💻

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You are heart broken right now. Your boyfriend or should we say ex just broke up with you recently. Through text and you haven't gotten the chance to get a grip of it yet. The breakup is still fresh and the way he just dumped you is still painful. He's heartless for doing such thing. No one should ever experience such thing!

"I hate men." You blurt out as you lay down on the mat that you and your friend put down the floor so you guys could lay down whilst star gazing. Of course with alcohol and snacks involve.

"All of a sudden?" Seungcheol heard you as he was just about to come out of his house. "I invited you here at my place... to relax... to entertain you.. for you to stop crying over your ex... then... now you hate men? Even me?" He sound offended

You laugh at his reaction. "Sorry... I can't help it." You say, "Men invades women's lives... flirt with us, make us fall in lovd... then when they feel like they need to go to the next target they'll just throw us like we are nothing..."

"You are not wrong with that... but hey not all men are like that." He sits down next to you, holding a beer on his hand. "Look at me..." he adds

You get up and sit straight next to him, "Yeah... you're a nice person..." you lean your head on his shoulder. "Too nice... even... that's why---"

"Hey. Don't mention the past." He hushes you. "We are talking about your heart break here... not mine that's been years ago."

You giggle at his reaction. "Fine..." you then grab his beer and drink from it. "But just one question.."

"Hmm?"

"Why haven't you dated again after....you know who...?"

"Well... I don't know... I guess... I just haven't found the girl for me yet..."

"Why? Are your standards that high?"

He takes back the beer from your hand. "I'm not like that... I go with my feelings... not like you who goes nuts when you see men with strong arms and built."

"Well," you steal his beer again and drink from it. "I find those traits sexy...how can I resist?"

"Yeah right." He takes his beer again. "Will you stop drinking mine? Just grab one from the cooler... I bought enough for the two of us..."

"But I like yours..." you take it again from him after he just took a sip. "We can always share... we are friends..." You drink the last chug. "Why? Does it bother you?"

"It doesn't. I just thought you'd be the type of person that would be concious about drinking at the same cup or whatever..."

You wipe your mouth with your hand as you put the empty can on the side. "What do you mean?"

"You know... I hear girls at Uni talk about indirect kisses so..."

"Ahh... I see..." you giggle. "How funny... they get so excited by those..."

"You don't?"

"Of course not! It's not like it is a kiss." You roll your eyes. "Making out for sure...is much more exciting..."

"Right." Seungcheol gets up to take another can of beer from the cooler. "Do you want one or you still want to share with me?" He asks as he opens the cooler.

"Grab two... but still we'll share." You say smiling

He shakes head and grab two different kinds. "You are really something..."

***

After a few more drinks and chitchat about your exes, you two finally decided to lay down and watch the stars above you.

With minimal light around you and Seungcheol turning off the lights in the house, just leaving the kitchen lights on where you two will enter back later, the sky is more brighter and clearer in your view.

"Thanks for inviting me here at your family's vacation house..."

"No problem... besides, mom suggested me to bring you here... she said you need this."

"Your mom is so sweet."

"She is... and its a plus because she likes you..."

"Really?"

"Yeah, she always wanted a daughter and I guess....you fit what she dreamed off having..."

"Aww... but...it is a bit sad..."

"Sad? Why?"

You turn over to your side, facing Seungcheol. "Coz I'm not the typical good daughter... and I don't want to disappoint her..."

"Typical good daughter?" He repeats, stunned by your word choice. "You are a good person..."

"Am I?" You laugh and lay down at your back again.

"Yeah... just a little freaky..."

"Freaky?!" You repeat, whipping your head to him. "What do you mean by that?"

"Don't act like you are not..." he smirks, "I've seen you do PDA with your ex."

"And...?" You toss to your side again but this time closer to Seungcheol. "Are you saying I'm freaky because I like to cuddle and touch my man?" You raise your brow at him.

"Don't get insulted. I didn't meant it as a bad way...." he then looks back at you, smiling. "I like freaky to you know... we all have our... kinks..."

"Really? Define... what's freaky for you? What are your kinks?"

"Okay... don't look at me like that..." he laughs, "I don't mean THAT kink... I don't do fifty shades of grey freaky you know..."

"Then... what are the things you like?"

"You really want to know?"

"Of course... coz my freaky may be different from your freaky..." you are grinning

"Hmmm..." he hums, thinking if he should tell you. "Isn't it a bit dangerous to be on a topic like this...?" He asks. Then his eyes starts scanning you from your face to your chest area which is very exposed and in his face right now.

You smirk as you eye him glancing at your cleavage. "Cheolie... are you getting seduced by my boobs right now?" You tease

"How can I not?" He looks away but the corner of his lips is curved into a smile. "You're wearing a verly low V neck shirt right now..."

You giggle at his remarks and then lean in to give your friend a kiss on the cheek which surprised him.

"Why did you kiss me?"

"Nothing... because you are so cute." You say before going back to your original position.

"Me? Cute?" He pouts, "Y/N I just talked about looking at your boobs and you find it cute?"

"I do!" You answer

"You're weird."

"Oh yeah... J am freaky..." you say, laughing.

"You are..." he adds

The two of you suddenly became quiet. The only thing you could hear now is the crackling of the woods in the bon fire and the sound of the breeze and the trees dancing.

"It's getting a bit chilly now..." Seungcheol breaks the silence. "Should we go inside now?"

"No... not yet..." you answer. "I need to do something..."

"Do what--"

Before he could even finish, you already got up and crawled on top of him

"Y/N, what are you doing?"

You move your pelvis, lower than where you are. You are trying to find the perfect spot on top of him.

"Ughh..." he breathes out as you placed your clothed core right on top of his erection. "Y/N...."

"Cheolie... Do you want to make out with me?"

"What??"

You slide your hands from his abdomen to his chest. "We're friends right...?"

"Y/N...." he grabs both your wrists. "I don't think this is a good idea..."

"Please...?" You move your hips, slightly rubbing your core to his bulge and causing him to hiss a curse under his breathe. "You can touch me if you want... I don't mind..."

"You are drunk..."

"No, I'm not..." you frown. "If I'm drunk....I won't be asking for your consent..."

"This is wrong... what you want is not right..."

"I know."

He gets up whilst you are still on hip. "And you still want to?"

You nod.

"Are you trying to use me? As rebound sex?" He chuckles

"I was not suggesting sex yet... but..." you put your arms around his neck and then move your body closer to his, "if you are okay with having sex... I'm game..." you say the few words words in a very seducing manner.

"Why me?"

"Why not?"

He laughs at how serious you are. "You are crazy, Y/N..."

"I know..." you once again rub your clothed core on his erection. Basically dry humping him. "Please...?" Your voice sounded more breathy.

"Damn it." He mumbles as the friction between you two makes him more hard.

"Here." You grab his hand and place it over your boob. "You like my boobs right...?" Then you guide his hand by rubbing his palm over and then squeezing your boob with his hand. "Feel it..." you whisper while letting his thumb feel your hardened nipple through your shirt.

"Fuck, Y/N... you are insane..." he throws his head back, holding on to not crack a smile. He is enjoying your needy side.

"C'mon Cheolie... you are making me wait for too long... do you want to or not?" While you on the other hand is being impatient.

"If I say yes," he says "What happens after we fuck?"

"We can decide after..."

"What if... I want to do it again..."

"Then let's do it again."

He's brows scrunches, "you are okay to with that?"

"Yes..."

"Even though... We are not dating?"

"Seungcheol..." you lean in a kiss him on the cheek again. "Like what we talked about... I am a little freaky... and besides you're my friend..."

"So....we're going to be.... fuck buddies?"

"If you want to..."

"No strings attached? Just... sex?"

"Yes... if I'm horny... I'll call you... and if you are horny and need me... then, call me and I'm willing to fuck you or suck you... anywhere... anytime..."

Shaking his head laughing, "Fucking hell Y/N... you are naughty..."

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, yeah... I know... so now what? Do you want to fuck with me or not? Give me an answer now coz if your not going to... I'll just go to bed..."

"You are very impatient, you know that?" He says smirking whilst his brows is furrowed. He looks amused. "I just want to make sure..." then he places his hand on your waist, sliding them under the hem of your shirt. "You are sure with this... since... we have alcohol in our system..."

"Right..." then as a needy and impatient as you are, you lean in already and started kissing Seungcheol on the lips.

The kiss surprisingly didn't start sloppy or awkward. It just went smoothly and very... arousing.

He is moaning already into the kiss. That's how good it makes him feel already.

"See.... you want it too..." you tease, smiling pulling away and looking at his turned on face.

"Who said I didn't want to?" He then carries you off him and carefully puts you back down the mat. "I wanted to wreck you since this morning when I first saw you wearing this revealing top..." his hand glides up from your tummy to your neck, right under your shirt. The motion lifted your shirt up exposing the lower part of your tits. "Fuck!" He hisses. "Your body is so fucking insane." He lowers his head and starts nibbling your skin from your belly buttom to your underboob.

"Ahh..." you inhale sharply when he sucked your skin and making sure he's leaving a mark. "Are you happy I didn't wear any bra today?" You ask

"The fuck I am." He goes to fully take off your top and start sucking and squeezing both alternately.

You moan at every suck, lick and flick he does. "Oh fuck... yes..." your hips dance every time his tongue touches your nipple.

"You're sensitive. You really like this huh?" He looks up at you while his tongue continues to pleasure you.

You nod your head, smiling while biting your lips.

"Fuck!" You throw your head back the second you felt him cup you down there. And since you're just wearing your black leggings, you could really feel his finger rubbing you there. "Ngggaaaahh..." you breathing heavy

"You sound so sexy...." he hums right st your ears as he watches you react to his strokes.

"You're teasing me too much..." you say

"Do I?" He chuckles

"Let me do the same!"

You are getting competitive now. You don't want to loose even though there is no game. You just know he's enjoying you moan just with just his little touches and licks. But you want him to whimper like you or more.

"Let me show you what I can do for you..." you push him away and then ride him on top again. "It's unfair that I'm the only one moaning in this session...." you move your hands quickly, pushing his jogging pants and his boxers down at the same time. "Dang..." your eyes widened as you see how long and thich he is. "You're hiding this from me?" You gently touch his wet tip.

"I'm not... technically hiding how big I am..." he answers before taking his shirt off. "You know I am big."

"Wow! You are one cocky mother fucker!" You laugh slapping his abs. "Let's see how cocky you'd still be after I make you come..."

"Bring it on." He says, rubbing his palm to your tits. "I've always wanted to know how your mouth feels on my dick..."

"Really? I'm flattered..." leaning in for a sweeet smooch on his lips. "Seems like... you've been having dirty thoughts about me for a while now..."

"I do..." he answers honestly, gazing straight into your eyes as your faces are just inches away. "I've been a bad friend..."

You kiss the corner of his lips. "It's fine.... I like bad boys..." you whisper sensually before you wrap your hands completely around his length.

You start slowly, pumping him while your eyes are glued to his. You want to see his face, his expression change while you squeeze him. You want to see him melt under your touch.

"Y/N... fuck!" He's breathing goes hectic as you now start to lick him. You are teasing him the way he teased you. "Ahh!" He growls when swirl your tongue on the tip.

Now, you begin to take him all in. Your whole mouth wrapped around his length. You are drooling at how big he is in your mouth but its worth it. His moaning and whimpers are all music to your ears.

"I think I'm going...t-to explode... fucking hell Y/N!"

You give him a final lick from buttom to top before giving him sensual kisses on his abdomen and then to his pecks.

"Do you want to explode inside of me?"

Those words pumped his adrenaline even more. You know it did coz his dick got flexes and got more harder than what it is. He even got up as quickly as he can and take you in for a kiss before he warns you and says, "Now, let me fuck you real good... raw and hard."