#I think I would rather live my life without this

[monzabee]

run for the hills – lh44 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where fate decides to bring you back into Lewis’ life, making him question his belief in fate.  

Pairing: lewis hamilton x rosberg!reader

Word Count: 9.3k 

Warnings: cursing, crying, drinking and mentions of alcohol, mentions of brocedes (rip), kissing, unprotected sex (you shouldn’t be surprised at this point), oral (m receiving), hand kink, praise kink, minors dni!!

Request: “hey, Merry Christmas 🫶🏽 I was hoping I could request a Lewis smut fic where the reader is Nico Rosberg's sister (with a age gap of around 6-8 years with him and Lewis) and before 2016 they were just really close friends who just kissed once but chose to pretend it didn't happen. after years, they run into each other at a club or a party and they're pretty snappy at each other but there's a lot of tension too and they end up having sex where Lewis is really cocky and also the reader has a hand kink and praise kink? I'm so sorry if I made it too long, i love your writing <33” + “oooo please could i request something w lewis?! something gut wrenchingly angsty? sorry i don’t really have a plot in mind hhhh thank you heheh”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! HAPPY NEW YEAR, i started this fic last week and i honestly didn't think I'd finish it this quickly but here we are. don't let my words fool you, i got the request last christmas but if you know me then you know that i am not quick when it comes to working on requests (i'm working on this i promise), not that this fic is even remotely christmassy, but let’s just appreciate that it is supposed to be set during the holiday period lol. this was supposed to be a shorter one but here we are, lol, i'm not even surprised at my inability to keep things short at this point. i posted this fic and realised i forgot to copy and paste a big chunk of it so oh well. as always, feedback is appreciated, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee 

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Lewis decided he doesn’t like cold a long time ago. That’s why, being the ever-decisive person he is, he chooses to spend his winter vacationing in places like the Maldives or Bali. His decisiveness is an important part of him, given what he does for a living. When he is on the track, in his car, there is no room for hesitation – he needs to be able to make split-second decisions under intense pressure, what’s not to love about that? So, once he decided he’d rather spend his time off basking in the sun rather than freezing to death somewhere else, he never looked back. He enjoys spending his time off in someplace tropical with his family, or without his family; most of the times away from the prying eyes and camera lenses of the media. 

But this time, it’s different – he's alone. 

Or rather, he thought he would be alone. The villa he rented out for the duration of the month is isolated, just how he likes it. He wakes up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore right outside his windows, and the distant chirping of tropical birds to accompany him as he lounges on the large deck, overlooking the infinite expanse of blue. There are no spectators around to gauge his reaction, try to get him to speak out about his plans for the next year when he moves to Ferrari, or what he’s going to do when he eventually retires one day. He hasn’t seen anyone from the racing world for weeks, and it’s been a much-needed break. He’d usually love to spend Christmas with his family, the only time he would ever tolerate the cold being when he is with his family, but this year he just wanted to get away on his own. 

There is no one around that expect anything from him. Just peace. 

He’s not a hermit, of course, but he enjoys spending his time by himself mostly isolated from all the other guests of the touristic area he’s staying in. The chef that works at the villa is on call for when Lewis decides that he wants to stay in for the night, the housekeeping staff come every morning to clean up around the house, then promptly leave, providing Lewis with the privacy he so desperately needs. But other than that, and a few nights spent outside in a restaurant or a club? He is all alone, and he is not complaining about it. Another thing about Lewis Hamilton is that he doesn’t believe in fate. He believes in setting and achieving goals; after all, that’s what he’s done all his life. His success isn’t some cosmic coincidence. It’s years of sacrifice by his parents, relentless effort, and unwavering determination. So, when things happen that feel serendipitous, like running into someone from his past, he doesn’t chalk it up to destiny. He chalks it up to the sheer unpredictability of life. 

And yet, as he steps out of the villa to head to a nearby beach club after dinner, he doesn’t expect to run into you, especially not after how the things ended last time, but there you are. His eyes find you at the bar with some guy next to you – he has to do a double take. Just to make sure, he tells himself. But no matter how many times his attention reverts to you, he knows it’s you. Of course, it’s you. Though he’s not a believer in fate or destiny, or whatever you might want to call it, there you are – dressed in a flowy linen dress. His first instinct is to ask the server to seat him somewhere else so that he wouldn’t have stare at you and your ‘date’ for the night. His grip on the glass in his hand tightens momentarily, and he exhales slowly, forcing himself to look away. This is not the moment, he tells himself. It’s not his business, not anymore. But still, his gaze drifts back to you. You’re laughing at something the guy says, your head tilted slightly as you sip from your drink. He can’t hear your laughter, no – but what a sound that would be to hear, he thinks for a moment. 

He knows he shouldn’t care who you’re with or what you’re doing; it’s been years since the two of you shared anything beyond... well anything, really. But something about seeing you here, in this place he thought was his private retreat from the world, feels like a twist of fate – or the kind of cosmic joke he claims not to believe in. But his eyes watch you as you throw you head back in a laugh and he can practically hear the sound in his head, his mind taking him to years ago when he used to be one of the people who got to hear it first hand; when he joined your family on karting days, or when you celebrated with him when he won a race, or even back to that one time when him and Nico were trying to drive those unicycles and you kept doubling over in laughter when they fell down – something your brother did not appreciate, but Lewis couldn’t help the smile that crept on his face as he watched you from the ground.  

Somethings never change, he thinks, as he notices the smallest of smiles that has crept its way onto his face, quickly disappearing the moment he catches himself. He knows it shouldn’t matter to him – let alone bother him. But old habits die hard, and the sight of your smile, that easy laugh, stirs something in him that feels like both longing and a pang of annoyance. You’ve always had a way of getting under his skin. Back then, it was teasing remarks that somehow felt more genuine than any praise he received elsewhere. He catches himself glancing your way again, his jaw tightening when the guy beside you leans in a little too close. It’s irrational, this surge of jealousy that claws at his chest. He knows he has no right to feel this way, but that doesn’t stop it from burning through him. He looks down at his drink, willing himself to focus on anything but you. But memories have a way of sneaking up on him, unbidden. The days spent at karting tracks, the shared dinners with your family, the quiet moments when it was just the two of you, talking about everything and nothing at all. Back then, it was easy. Natural. Like you were two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly, until you didn’t. 

Just then, you glance over, your eyes scanning the room before they land on him. For a moment, everything stills. The laughter fades from your face, replaced by something unreadable. Surprise, maybe. Or recognition. His breath catches in his throat, and he curses himself for the way his chest tightens under your gaze. He watches as you excuse yourself, heading towards the restrooms, and he swears he has never gotten up so fast and walked so fast in his life. He doesn’t think, he just moves until he spots you in the hallway, queued behind some people waiting for the bathroom line. What kind of a club only has one bathroom? He thinks, but that’s not the point. 

He clears his throat. 

You turn, eyes widening in that familiar, guarded way. “Lewis.” Your lips open in shock as you glance behind him and then focus on him again, “Did- did you follow me here?”  

“Were you on a date with that guy?” The words come out of his mouth before he can stop himself, his voice colder than he expects. 

You blink, taken aback by the question. “Excuse me?” 

He stands there, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth, but that doesn’t stop the irritation from creeping up his spine. His gaze flickers to the bar behind him, where the guy you were with is still talking to the bartender, oblivious to what’s going on. “I asked if you were on a date,” he repeats, a little sharper this time as he emphasises the last word. 

You raise an eyebrow, the surprise on your face melting into something more guarded, a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “What if I was?” You cross your arms, your eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’m just out enjoying my night. Ever think of that?” 

He feels a rush of heat in his chest. “It’s not like I care,” he mutters, though it’s clear from the edge in his voice that he does. “Just curious.” 

You scoff, your lips curling into a sarcastic smile. “Sure, Lewis.” 

“So?” He inquires, “Are you? On a date with that guy, I mean.” 

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not amused. “Are you serious right now?” you snap, your arms tightening across your chest. “You’re standing here, in the middle of a hallway, asking me about my love life? What is this, high school?” 

Lewis feels the heat rise in his neck, irritation mixing with a sense of frustration he doesn’t quite understand. “I’m not asking for your life story, just... just an answer. Is it that hard?” His voice is tight, but he doesn’t back down. 

You scoff again, your lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “You really think you can just waltz back in and start demanding answers like we’re still... You know what? Yes, Lewis, I’m on a date.” You throw a glance over your shoulder at the guy still sitting at the bar. “We met on the beach at the hotel I’m staying at, and I thought I’d let him treat me to a dinner and a couple of drinks before I’d let him fuck me six ways to Sunday.” You roll your eyes at someone on the queue gasping at your choice of words. “Not that it’s any of your business. Are you happy now?” 

Lewis’s hand grips your wrist, a little too tight, and without warning, he’s tugging you away from the bar, his jaw clenched. “Come on,” he mutters, his tone low and urgent, as he steers you towards the back exit. You’re caught off guard, stumbling to keep up with his forceful pace, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“What the hell, Lewis? Let go of me!” you snap, yanking your arm free once you're outside in the chill night air. The chill hits you like a slap, the heat of the club’s atmosphere fading behind you as the door slams shut. 

“Seriously?” he spits, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and frustration. “You’re gonna play it like that?” 

You take a step back, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t know what game you're playing at, but I’m not interested. What the hell was that back there? Dragging me out like I’m some kind of... of property?” 

He glares at you, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re unbelievable.” His voice rises, sharp and cutting. “I ask you a simple question, and you throw that crap at me? What the hell did you think I was supposed to do? Just stand there and pretend like I didn’t care?” 

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Pretend like you don’t care? That’s rich coming from you. You don’t get to just waltz in, after all this time, and act like you can demand answers, Lewis. Like you have any right to know what’s going on in my life.” 

“Your brother would be so disappointed in you right now.” His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the air between you two freezes. The breeze picks up, but the sudden silence makes the world feel too loud.  

“You don’t get to talk about my brother,” you seethe, as Lewis's face hardens, his jaw tensing, but it’s the look in his eyes that hits hardest — it’s a mixture of hurt and fury, both so raw, you almost feel sorry for what you’ve just unleashed. 

“What did you just say?” His voice is low, almost dangerously so, the words slipping through clenched teeth. 

You swallow, but it doesn’t help the sharp edge in your voice. “You heard me. You don’t get to talk about him, you don’t get to fuck up my life and you don’t get to come back here acting like you still have any claim on me or my life.” You’re breathing heavily now, the anger and hurt mixing into a bitter cocktail that you can’t quite swallow – funnily enough, Lewis can smell the cocktail you had earlier. “You left. You made your choice, Lewis. And now you don’t get to barge back in and pretend like I owe you anything.” 

Lewis stands in front of you, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His eyes are dark, his jaw tight as he processes your words. He doesn’t know when the two of you got closer together, he can practically feel the anger radiating off you, “You think I don’t know that?” he spits, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You think I don’t know what I did?” His voice cracks slightly, the vulnerability slipping out before he can stop it. “I fucked up, alright? I fucked up more than you’ll ever understand. We all did – me, Nico, you.” 

“You don’t get to make me feel guilty about this, Lewis. You don’t get to act like I’m the one who fucked everything up.” Your voice shakes, but you keep going, the words coming faster, more bitter. “You kissed me and called it an ‘accident’, a fluke. You fought with Nico every chance you got. I had to pick up the pieces on my own.” 

Lewis flinches at your words, but his anger doesn’t dissipate—if anything, it only sharpens. His hands remain balled into fists at his sides, but there’s something else behind his eyes now, something raw, something almost desperate. “We wouldn’t have worked out,” he mutters, it’s something that he said to himself time and time again to convince himself of it, “I am– was your brother’s friend, you–” 

“You were my friend, too!” You exclaim, your hands swatting at his arms, chest – anywhere you can reach. “You left me, as if I meant nothing to you! You stole my first kiss and shattered my life to pieces on the same day!” You manage to get in some good hits despite Lewis’ attempts to calm you down, and the lump in your throat makes it harder for you to continue talking, “Do you know how many times I wondered if you kissed me just to piss Nico off? Do you know how that feels?” 

“What?” He asks, his voice low. Each hit, each accusation, it stings. But nothing hits harder than the raw emotion in your eyes – hurt, betrayal, and the weight of everything he left behind. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words catch in his throat. “You think I kissed you to get at Nico?” he says finally, his voice quieter now but no less intense. There’s an edge of disbelief, of hurt, as if the idea itself cuts deeper than your accusations. “Do you really think so little of me?” 

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, holding yourself together in the face of his raw honesty. “I don’t know what to think, Lewis. What was I supposed to think back then? You shut me out. You made me feel like it never happened – like I never happened.” 

“You were twenty-three years old,” he points out, “our age difference–” 

“Oh please,” you scoff, pushing at his chest one last time, “you’ve fucked girls younger than that.” 

Lewis flinches at your words, as if they’ve struck a nerve he didn’t even know was exposed. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. “You don’t get to throw that in my face,” he finally says, his voice low and clipped, tinged with a kind of frustration that feels different from before. 

“Why?” You ask, head cocked to the side. “I can’t comment on you fucking other people, but you can question my actions because I want to fuck–” 

“Say ‘fuck’ one more time and I swear I’ll–” 

“—what, Lewis?” you snap, cutting him off before he can finish his threat. “You’ll what? Walk away again? Pretend this conversation never happened, just like you did last time?” 

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his face tightening as he tries to rein in his emotions. “Don’t push me,” he warns, his voice low and taut, but there’s no real menace in it—only desperation. 

“Oh, I’m pushing?” You laugh bitterly, throwing your hands up. “I’m the one pushing? You’re the one who showed up here, dredging up every memory I’ve spent years trying to bury. Don’t you dare put this on me, Lewis.” 

“You think this is easy for me?” he shoots back, his voice rising. “You think I don’t hate myself for what I did? For what I didn’t do? I’ve lived with this every single day, and you—” 

“Fuck you!” you shout, stepping closer, your finger jabbing into his chest. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck–” 

His hands shoot up, grabbing your wrists – not harshly, but firmly enough to stop your movements. You don’t even fully register how quickly he pushes you against the wall, “You think I ran off and lived some perfect life?” he hisses, his face inches from yours as he inhales deeply. “You think I didn’t miss you every goddamn day? You think I didn’t lie awake at night, wishing I’d had the guts to ask you to stay?” 

His words hit you like a tidal wave, the rawness in his voice leaving you momentarily speechless. For a moment, the anger in his eyes softens, replaced by something else – something that feels far too close to the hope you’ve been trying to suppress. “Well... yeah.” You inwardly cringe how your voice sounds so weak, but Lewis tilts your chin back to make you look at him.  

“Is that so?” He mumbles, thumb caressing your chin as his eyes hungrily take in how your chest moves with each deep breath your inhale and exhale.  

Your breath hitches as his thumb lingers, his gaze dropping to your lips like he’s fighting every instinct to close the distance between you. “Lewis...” you start, but his name comes out softer than you intend, more of a plea than the warning you meant it to be. 

“What?” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, but there’s a softness to it, an undercurrent of vulnerability that sends your heart racing. “What do you want me to do, huh? Walk away again? Because I can’t. Not this time.” 

You shake your head slightly, but his grip on your chin keeps you from fully looking away. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I don’t even know how to feel about you anymore.” 

His eyes darken, and his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans in, his forehead almost brushing yours. “Then let me remind you,” he says, his voice a low rasp. 

Your pulse quickens, every nerve in your body screaming at you to push him away – or pull him closer and he tension between you is suffocating. “Don’t,” you whisper, but your voice wavers, betraying the battle waging inside you. 

“Don’t what?” he asks, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. “Don’t do this?” You don’t answer, your throat too tight, your mind too clouded with memories, anger, and something else you’re not ready to name. He waits, his breath mingling with yours, his patience stretching thin. “Say the word,” he whispers, his voice rough with restraint. “Tell me to stop, and I will. I will let you go back and take him back to your room and do whatever you want.” 

But you don’t say it. You can’t. Because as much as you hate him, as much as you want to scream at him, cry, and push him away... you also want this. Want him. 

And Lewis knows it. 

His hand releases your wrist, sliding down to your waist as his other hand stays on your chin, tilting your face toward him. The kiss that follows isn’t soft, isn’t sweet – it’s desperate, raw, and filled with years of unspoken words. It’s anger and longing, heartbreak, and desire, all crashing together in a way that steals your breath and sends your heart into overdrive. A softer kiss might have been what you wanted, but Lewis knows this is what you need. His body presses against yours, and your hands instinctively find his shoulders, clinging to him as if letting go would leave you falling apart. His lips are warm and insistent, the taste of him intoxicating. Every move, every touch, feels like he’s trying to make up for everything he never said, everything he left behind. 

The kiss deepens, each second unravelling more of the carefully constructed armour you’ve built around your heart. His fingers grip your waist tighter, grounding you even as everything else feels like it’s spinning. You can feel the heat radiating off him with every press of his body against yours. Your mind screams at you to stop, to think, to pull away before you lose yourself completely – but your body betrays you. The years of hurt, anger, and confusion dissolve into the fire burning between you, ignited by a kiss that’s as much a battle as it is a surrender. 

Lewis pulls back just enough to let you breathe, his lips still hovering close, his forehead resting against yours. His breath is hot against your skin, his voice low and rough when he finally speaks. “You still want to go back and fuck your little lover boy?”  

“Who?” You mumble, breathless as a result of the kiss as your eyes become heavy with something you can’t quite describe. 

Lewis smirks, a glint of triumph flashing in his dark eyes. "Exactly," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your waist in slow, deliberate circles. His confidence is maddening, but the heat between you makes it impossible to summon the indignation you’d usually feel. 

You try to muster a response, something sharp and cutting to put him back in his place, but the way his gaze drops to your lips again makes the words dissolve before they even form. “Don’t do that,” you manage, though your voice lacks the conviction you intended. 

“Do what?” he asks innocently, though the rasp in his tone betrays his intent. 

“Act like this changes everything.” 

His smirk falters, replaced by a seriousness that roots you in place. “It doesn’t change everything,” he admits, his voice quieter now, almost tender. “But it changes something. Doesn’t it?” 

Your heart pounds against your ribs as his words sink in. You hate how easily he disarms you, how effortlessly he pulls you back into his orbit no matter how much you’ve tried to escape it. But deep down, you know he’s right. “I hate you,” you whisper, though even you can hear the weakness in your words. 

“I know,” he replies, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your skin like he’s memorizing every inch of you. “And I hate myself for making you feel that way.” 

The sincerity in his voice cuts through the haze, making your chest tighten. But before you can think about it, you find yourself tugging on the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, pulling him closer to yourself as you mumble, “Kiss me again.” 

Your hands, which moments ago were pushing him away, now find their way into his hair, pulling him closer, as if to anchor yourself in the storm he’s unleashed within you. Lewis doesn’t hold back. His grip tightens on your waist, pulling you flush against him, the wall at your back the only thing keeping you steady. The kiss deepens, his lips moving against yours with an intensity that borders on desperation, as though he’s afraid this moment might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. When the need for air becomes undeniable, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. Both of you are breathing heavily, the space between you charged with everything unsaid. “Tell me you didn’t feel that,” he says, his voice hoarse, his thumb brushing against your cheek. 

You can’t answer right away, your heart hammering so loudly in your chest it drowns out any coherent thought. But eventually, you manage to find your voice. “I hate you,” you whisper, but there’s no conviction behind the words. They sound hollow, even to your own ears. 

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “No, you don’t.” 

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” you snap, but the edge in your voice falters. 

“I’m not,” he murmurs, his gaze unwavering. “I’m telling you what I see. And I see you... still here. Still looking at me like that.” His hand trails down to your hip, his touch light but grounding. “If you hated me, you would’ve walked away by now.” 

You close your eyes, willing yourself to regain some semblance of control, but it’s impossible with him standing this close, his presence overwhelming. “This doesn’t change anything,” you say, though it feels more like you’re trying to convince yourself than him. 

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his voice softer now. “But it’s a start.” You don’t say anything to agree or refute his statement, and after a brief pause, he straightens, fixies your dress and tries to fix your hair as well. “Come on,” he says, “I’ll take you back.” 

“But, my bag,” you mutter, pushing out your lower lip in a pout when you realise your bag is on the floor. Lewis has to restrain himself when he sees your lips all puffed up because of him. Your voice is whiny, and he realises you’re slurring your words a little bit when you tug on his shirt, “I don’t wanna leave my bag here.” 

Lewis looks at you for a moment, his expression softening as he reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your skin with the same tenderness he’s shown all night despite all your fighting. With a soft exhale, Lewis bends down to pick up your bag, holding it out to you with the same quiet care. “Don’t make that face,” he murmurs, his voice teasing but laced with something tender. “You really wanna go back to that room, after everything that just happened?” 

You look at him, a mix of confusion and desire swirling inside you. “I don’t know what I want,” you admit, the honesty slipping out before you can stop it. The words feel raw, vulnerable, but there’s something about his presence, the way he’s here, still so close, that makes you feel safe enough to say it. 

Lewis doesn’t say anything right away. Instead, his eyes soften, his thumb grazing the strap of your bag as he watches you closely, as though he’s searching for something in your expression. Finally, he steps closer again, the space between you narrowing once more. “I get it,” he says quietly. “But I’m not letting you go home alone tonight.” 

The words send a shiver down your spine. You want to protest, to push him away, but there’s something in his gaze, the way he’s looking at you now, that makes you second-guess everything you thought you wanted. You hesitate for a moment longer, the weight of your thoughts heavy in the air, but the pull between you is undeniable. It’s the kind of pull that’s magnetic, that doesn’t let you escape even when you try to resist. 

Finally, you nod, the decision feeling both like a surrender and a choice you can’t take back. “Okay,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. “Take me back, then.” 

You don’t even remember getting into his car, but you do remember the smug look he shot at your date – Carl, you think – when he helped you through the club with a firm hand on your back. The villa Lewis rented for his little getaway is entirely what you expect it to be – modern, grand, and secluded enough so no one uninvited would know he is there and bother him. The couch in the living room looks way too inviting and you make a mental note to avoid it for now. Sitting on it might make this whole situation feel too real, too comfortable, and you’re not ready for that. You glance around the space instead, taking in the clean lines of the modern furniture, the polished wood floors, and the sprawling windows that offer an unobstructed view of the moonlit ocean. You walk towards the windows, eyes taking in the view from inside the villa. The ocean stretches out endlessly before you, its surface shimmering under the moonlight. The soft sound of the waves crashing against the shore is faintly audible even through the glass, a gentle hum that seems to echo the turmoil in your chest. 

You wrap your arms around yourself, partly to steady your nerves and partly to shield yourself from the vulnerability creeping up on you. The view is breathtaking, but it does little to quiet the storm of emotions swirling inside you. You faintly hear Lewis calling out your name, but as if you are in a trance, you can’t take your eyes off the view in front of you. His voice calls out to you again, softer this time, closer. “Hey,” he says, and you feel the warmth of his presence before you even see him. Lewis’s reflection appears in the glass, his dark eyes fixed on you as he stands just behind you. 

You finally tear your gaze away from the ocean and turn to face him, your arms still wrapped protectively around yourself. “It’s beautiful,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking louder might shatter the fragile moment. 

Lewis nods, his expression unreadable as he follows your gaze back to the window. “It is,” he agrees, but there’s a weight to his tone, as if he’s not just talking about the view. His eyes flicker back to you, searching your face. “But it doesn’t seem like it’s helping much.” 

You let out a shaky laugh, more to fill the silence than anything else. “It’s not that simple, Lewis.” 

“Nothing ever is,” he replies, stepping closer until there’s only a breath of space between you. “But I’m here. You don’t have to deal with whatever this is alone.” 

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into it. “I don’t know what to do with you,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “With... us.” 

He exhales deeply, his hand lifting as though he wants to touch you but hesitates. “You don’t have to figure that out right now,” he says, his voice steady. “I just want to make sure you’re okay tonight. That’s all that matters to me.” 

Something about his words, his presence, eases the knot in your chest, if only slightly. “I don’t even know where to start,” you murmur, more to yourself than him. 

“Then don’t,” he says simply, his voice carrying a quiet reassurance. “Just be here. With me.” 

You look up at him, your eyes searching his face for any sign of pretense or ulterior motives, but all you see is the same man who’s managed to undo you with a single glance. “Show me your room.”  

“We don’t have to do that.” His eyebrows furrow as he reaches for your cheek, “That not why I brought you here.” 

“Isn’t it?” You try to joke, but his deep sigh is a sign of his disapproval. “I know that’s not why you brought me here, but it can be one of the reasons you brought me here.” 

“Can it?” He drawls, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  

“For God’s sake, Lewis.” You sigh, turning your body towards the man standing next to you. “Do I need to beg you for you to fuck me?”  

Lewis’s smirk falters, his expression shifting into something deeper, darker, but undeniably tender. “Don’t,” he murmurs, his voice low and edged with restraint as he steps closer. His hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You don’t need to beg me for anything. Not now, not ever.” 

The intensity in his gaze makes your breath catch, and for a moment, the air between you feels electric. “Then fuck me,” you whisper, your voice trembling with equal parts frustration and desire. “If you want me, show me.” 

He closes his eyes briefly, like he’s steadying himself, and when he opens them again, the resolve in his expression takes your breath away. “You think I don’t want you?” he asks, his tone low but firm. “You don’t know how hard it is to hold back, to stop myself from–” He cuts himself off, his jaw tightening as if even admitting it is too much. He reaches for one of your hands, freeing from your hold and places it on his crotch. “See what you do to me?” 

The crude act manages to steal a gasp from you, your eyes widening at how hard he already is. “Lewis,” you mutter, he responds with an affirmative hum, “show me your bedroom.” 

He takes your hand, his grip firm but careful, and leads you down a sleek hallway. The sound of your heels clicking against the polished wood floor echoes softly, a counterpoint to the pounding of your heart. When he pushes open the door to his bedroom, you’re momentarily distracted by how much the space reflects him. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft, ethereal light. The massive bed dominates the room, its crisp white sheets and plush pillows inviting. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the silver glow of the moon, casting the room in a soft light.  

You walk towards the centre of the room, the corner of your lip trapped between your teeth as you glance at Lewis over your shoulder before you run towards the bed and throw yourself onto the soft bedding. Lewis watches you with an amused smirk as you sprawl across the bed, your carefree motion starkly contrasting the simmering tension in the air. “Comfortable, baby?” he asks, his tone teasing, but the heat in his eyes betrays his calm façade. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows, giving him a challenging look. “Very.” Then you narrow your eyes at him, “But don’t call me baby, I am not your baby.” 

He chuckles, low and throaty, as he steps closer, loosening the top button of his shirt with a deliberate slowness that sends a shiver down your spine. “No?” he muses, stopping at the edge of the bed. His eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail as if committing you to memory. 

Your breath hitches when he leans over, placing a hand on either side of your body, effectively caging you in. His face is so close to yours now that you can feel the warmth of his breath. “I like seeing you like this,” he admits, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Relaxed, it suits you.” 

A flush creeps up your neck at his words, but you refuse to let him have the upper hand completely. Your fingers trail up his chest, over the defined planes of his torso, and then slide beneath the open collar of his shirt. “I could say the same about you,” you reply, your voice soft but loaded with meaning. 

His response is immediate. His lips crash against yours with a fervour that steals your breath, his hands gripping your waist as he pulls you flush against him. The kiss is raw and consuming, years of tension and unspoken words pouring into the connection. When he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing ragged, he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. 

You smile, your hands slipping down to the waistband of his pants. “Why don’t you show me?” 

He doesn’t need to be told twice. In one smooth motion, he lifts you, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as he carries you to the centre of the bed. He chuckles at the sound of your giggling, as he carefully lays you back down on the soft bed. His fingers work diligently to get you out of your dress, pulling the linen garment over your head as Lewis lets his eyes hungrily take you in. When your dress finally falls away, leaving you in nothing but lace and skin, Lewis takes a slow breath, his eyes scanning over your body with a mixture of awe and hunger. “You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice thick with admiration. His fingers trace the curve of your waist, his touch sending shivers of desire through your body. 

You arch slightly into his touch, your breath coming faster, and you meet his gaze with a challenge in your eyes. “Are you going to just gawk at me, or are you going to actually do something?” 

He smirks, a flash of cockiness in his eyes. “Patience,” he teases, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in his voice as he lowers himself over you. With one hand bracing himself above you, his other hand slides down between your bodies, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His touch is slow, almost teasing, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as his fingers inch closer to where you need him most. “You like this?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly, his lips just inches from yours. His fingers find the lace of your underwear, his touch deliberate as he pulls it aside and slips a finger inside you, making you gasp. “You’re fucking perfect,” he groans, his lips crashing against yours as he deepens the kiss, his finger working inside you with a slow, steady rhythm. You can feel the heat building between you, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second. 

“Don- don’t say ‘fuck’, Lewis,” you tease him with a small smirk as your breathing becomes deeper, “it’s unbecoming.” 

“You’ll see who will be coming in a few minutes, baby.” He chuckles at the way your expression changes at the mention of the word, his fingers moving in deeper as your let out a disapproving moan, “What? You don’t like it when I call you that?” 

With another dissenting hum and a raise of your hips to meet his hand, you let out a long exhale. “I’m not your baby Lewis, stop calling me that.” With the patience that only he can tolerate, he continues the leisurely movements of his fingers. “I want more, please.” 

Lewis tuts at your words softly, chuckling as he takes in your reactions. “I think you have a very important decision to make here,” he murmurs, his eyes suddenly painted with something more serious, “because once I fuck you, I’m not letting you go.”  

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” The words come out choppy as your breathing gets more erratic, his fingers stubbornly keeping to the slow rhythm he’s set.  

Lewis's gaze sharpens, the challenge in your tone sparking a flame in his dark eyes. “Oh, you’ll see it, alright,” he murmurs, his voice a velvety promise as his hand withdraws briefly, leaving you breathless and aching. Before you can protest, he moves with deliberate precision, tugging his shirt over his head and revealing the expanse of his chest – sculpted, strong, and utterly captivating. “Get on your hands and knees.” 

The command leaves no room for debate, his voice firm but laden with heat. Your heart skips a beat as you meet his gaze, a mixture of defiance and curiosity flickering in your expression. “Bold of you to assume I'll listen,” you quip, though the slight tremor in your voice betrays your anticipation. 

Lewis smirks, leaning down until his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Oh, you'll listen,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Because you know exactly how patient I can be, but the same can’t be said for you.” 

A shiver runs through you at his words, and before you realize it, you’ve complied, shifting onto your hands and knees in the centre of the bed. You can practically feel his gaze on you, then all of a sudden, you can actually feel him behind you, the bed dipping slightly under his weight as he moves closer. “Good girl,” he says softly, his voice rich with approval, and the way your body reacts to the praise is almost embarrassing. “Oh, my beautiful darling.” His hands skim over your back, tracing the curve of your spine before settling on your hips. The grip is firm, possessive, sending a thrill through you.  

The sounds of him taking himself out of his trousers and pumping cock in his hand is pure debauchery, yet you find yourself pushing your hips back against his thighs. Lewis's low chuckle reverberates through you, a sound full of confidence and desire. His hand tightens on your hips, steadying you as he leans in, his chest brushing against your back. The heat of his skin against yours makes you arch into him instinctively, earning another throaty laugh from him. “You're eager,” he teases, his voice dark and dripping with amusement. “I like you like this.” 

You bite your lip to suppress the needy sound threatening to escape, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Maybe you're just slow,” you retort breathlessly, glancing back at him over your shoulder, a challenging look in your eyes. 

Lewis growls low in his throat, his hands sliding across your back. “Careful,” he warns, though there's a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. “Push me too far, and I won't be nice.” Your breath catches at his words, but before you can form a response, you feel him guiding himself to your entrance, teasingly dragging against you. The deliberate slowness makes your frustration peak, and you push your hips back, a wordless plea for him to stop teasing. 

“Patience, darling,” he murmurs, his voice a husky promise. But even as he says it, he shifts forward, entering you with a deliberate motion that steals the breath from your lungs. 

The sensation is overwhelming, every nerve in your body alight as he holds still for a moment, letting you adjust. “Lewis,” you breathe, your voice shaky with need.  

His hands gently caress over the skin of your back and hips, soothing over the sharp feeling of Lewis easing himself into you in small movements of his hips. “You’re doing so well,” he shushes your whiny moans, his hands tracing your sides, grounding you. “You feel perfect, we’re almost there, darling.”  

“A-almost?” Your voice cuts his words off, voice shaky with need, “It’s not going to fit, Lewis, I can’t-” 

He leans over you, his lips pressing tender kisses along your spine, each one sending a ripple of warmth through you. His voice is a soothing murmur in your ear. “Relax for me, darling. Let me take care of you.” Your breathing steadies under his touch, the initial sting giving way to a fullness that leaves you breathless as he pushes himself fully into you. You arch your back slightly, pressing into him as his hands continue their gentle exploration of your body. The tenderness in his actions contrasts with the raw desire in his voice, creating a heady mix that leaves you yearning for more. “That's it,” he praises, his tone soft but laced with heat. “You’re incredible. See? We made it fit.” 

“I feel so full.” You manage to let out, voice whiny as the moan is ripped from the back of your throat. “It feels so good, Lewis.” 

He begins to move, a slow, steady rhythm that builds gradually, allowing you to feel every inch of him. The friction ignites a fire within you, and you can’t help the soft moans that escape your lips, each sound spurring him on. His grip on your hips tightens, his pace increasing as he finds the perfect rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. “You feel so good,” he groans, his voice low and thick with desire. His hand slides up your spine, tangling in your hair as he pulls you back slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’re mine, you know that? Only mine.”  

The moan that comes from you is dissenting, causing Lewis to slide his hand down your throat to use the leverage to pull you up on your knees, pressed against his chest. “No,” you say, hands extending backwards to keep holding onto him in an attempt to keep up with the rhythm in which he is fucking you now. 

His words send a shiver down your spine, the possessiveness in his tone igniting something primal within you. “Say it,” he commands, his voice rough as his movements grow more urgent. “Say you're mine.” 

Your breaths are shallow, punctuated by soft whimpers as you cling to him, trying to keep pace with his movements. The way he pulls you against him, his hand firm on your throat, sends a jolt of heat through your core. His hand is firm around your throat, but not uncomfortable to the point that you can’t breathe. 

“I’m not yours,” you gasp defiantly, your voice trembling with every move he makes.  

Lewis growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your back as his hand tightens slightly around your neck—not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you in place. “We’ll see about that,” he says darkly. 

His hips snap against you harder now, his rhythm relentless as if determined to prove you wrong. The overwhelming sensation leaves you gasping, your fingers clutching at his forearm for balance. His free hand slides down your body, gripping your waist to hold you steady as he drives deeper, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. 

“Still not mine?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. His tone is equal parts teasing and commanding, daring you to resist him. “Still think someone else can fuck you better than I can?” You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans spilling from you, but the way he moves, the way he claims you, has you crumbling. “Say it,” he repeats, his voice a low growl that echoes through your very core. 

Torn between defiance and surrender, you meet his challenge with a shaky breath. “I’m-” you begin, but he cuts you off with a particularly deep thrust that has you crying out his name instead. 

“Hmm?” Lewis chuckles darkly, clearly enjoying your struggle. His grip on your neck softens slightly as his fingers trace the column of your throat in a soothing gesture. “Come on, baby, just say it.” 

“I’m-” The word catches in your throat as he shifts slightly, the angle of his hips hitting a spot that sends a jolt of pleasure through you. A broken moan escapes your lips instead, and Lewis smirks against your ear, clearly revelling in your unravelling. 

“Say it,” he demands again, his voice low and demanding. His hand slides from your throat to your jaw, turning your face just enough that his lips can brush against the corner of your mouth. The gentleness of the gesture is at odds with the raw intensity of his movements, leaving you breathless. 

“I’m yours,” you finally gasp, the words tumbling out in a mix of desperation and surrender. 

Lewis freezes for a heartbeat, his chest heaving against your back as the admission settles between you. Then, with a triumphant growl, he resumes his pace, his grip on you tightening as if he intends to imprint himself into every fibber of your being. 

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. His lips trail along your shoulder, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “Say it again.” 

“Yours,” you whisper, the word coming easier this time, though the weight of it still sends a shiver through you. 

His rhythm grows more urgent, his body moving with a single-minded purpose as he pushes you both toward the edge. “Never forget it,” he groans, his voice rough and ragged, “now come for me.” You blame the singular cocktail you had three or so hours ago for your compliance to his words, as you feel the wave of pleasure crash over you, obliterating any coherent thought. Your body trembles uncontrollably in his arms, your cries of release echoing in the room as he whispers sweet words of praise in your ear.  

There are a million other things Lewis expects you to say, but you surprise him with a, “I wanna taste you.”  

Lewis's movements still, his breath catching at your unexpected words. He pulls back slightly, his dark eyes locking with yours, filled with surprise and a flicker of intrigue. A slow, mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Oh, is that so?” he murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement and undeniable heat. 

You nod, your cheeks flushing under his intense gaze, but there’s a spark of confidence in your eyes. “I really do,” you say softly, the tremble in your voice betraying both your boldness and your eagerness. 

He studies you for a moment longer, his expression shifting to one of reverence laced with desire. "Well," he says, his voice low and gravelly, "who am I to deny you, darling?" With a gentleness that contrasts the fervour of moments ago, Lewis guides you to sit up, his hands warm and steady as they support you. He shifts to the edge of the bed, leaning back slightly, giving you room and letting you take control. His gaze never leaves you, his dark eyes glinting with anticipation. You settle between his thighs, your hands skimming over his skin, marvelling at the way his muscles tense under your touch. There's a sense of power in the way his body responds to you, in the way his breathing hitches when your lips brush against him. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with a small smile before leaning in. The moment your mouth closes around him, Lewis groans low in his throat, his head falling back as his control begins to slip. His hands find their way to your hair, his touch gentle but firm as he guides you, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Just like that,” he praises, his voice rough with pleasure. “You’re perfect, baby.” 

The sound of his voice, the way he says your name like it’s the only thing that matters, spurs you on, and you lose yourself in the moment, intent on unravelling him the way he did you. Your lips move with deliberate intent, your tongue tracing teasing paths that have him groaning your name like a prayer. His fingers tighten in your hair, a gentle tug that makes you glance up at him through your lashes. The sight of him – head tilted back, his lips parted as he struggles for breath, sends a thrill through you. 

“God, you’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice ragged and filled with awe. His eyes find yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your pulse quicken. “You have no idea what you do to me.” Encouraged by his reaction, you take him deeper, your hands gripping his thighs to steady yourself. The sound he makes is primal, his control slipping further as his hips jerk involuntarily. He tries to hold himself back, but you can tell he’s close to losing himself completely. “Baby,” Lewis rasps, his voice thick with need, “you keep that up, and I won’t last.” You hum around him in response, the vibration pulling another groan from his lips. His hand slips from your hair to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a tender contrast to the raw passion between you. “Look at me,” he whispers, his tone almost pleading. 

You meet his gaze, and the connection between you feels electric. His chest heaves as his breaths come in quick, shallow bursts, his control hanging by a thread. “I’m so close,” he warns, his voice a low growl. “Do you want me to stop?” The shake of your head is all the answer he needs. With a curse under his breath, he lets go, his body shuddering as he gives himself over to the waves of pleasure crashing through him. He holds your gaze the entire time, his grip on you tightening as if anchoring himself to the moment. 

When he calms down, he collapses back against the bed, his chest rising and falling with deep, uneven breaths. You sit back after swallowing, a triumphant smile playing on your lips as you take in the sight of him, utterly undone. “That was fun,” you rasp as you take in the sight in front of you. 

Lewis chuckles softly, the sound low and breathless, as he drapes an arm over his face, trying to regain his composure. “Fun?” he repeats, his voice laced with amusement and lingering satisfaction. He peeks at you from under his arm, his dark eyes glinting with a mixture of adoration and disbelief. “You’ve got no idea what you just did to me.” 

You tilt your head, feigning innocence as you crawl up the bed to lie beside him. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” you tease, your voice light but with a hint of pride. 

He turns toward you, propping himself up on one elbow, his free hand reaching out to trace lazy circles along your arm. “You’re dangerous,” he murmurs, his tone soft yet filled with a reverence that makes your cheeks flush. “And I’m completely at your mercy.” 

You laugh, the sound light and genuine, as you nuzzle into his touch. “I think you like it that way,” you reply, your fingers grazing over his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your touch. 

“More than you know,” he admits, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your temple. The tender gesture contrasts with the raw intensity you’d just shared, and it sends a warm flutter through your chest. 

For a moment, silence falls between you, the only sound the soft rustling of the sheets and the slowing rhythm of his breathing. Then Lewis shifts, his arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “You know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” 

The weight of his words settles over you, and you glance up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his gaze. “Good,” you whisper, a small smile tugging at your lips.  

He smiles back, a look of pure contentment spreading across his face as he tightens his hold on you. “That’s all I get?” 

“We’ll see how you feel after we get home,” you mumble as you run a finger along the curve of his jaw, “you might be bored of me by then.” 

“Home,” Lewis muses quietly, breaking the silence and ignoring your words. His voice is softer now, contemplative. “I like the sound of that.” 

You glance up at him, his face so close that you can see the faintest hint of vulnerability in his expression. It stirs something deep within you – a mix of tenderness and longing that takes you by surprise. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “Me too.” 

[rainbowsky]

In all my years of being a GGDD fan, I don't think any year has ever been better than this last one.

In the past I have watched them struggle and face incredibly difficult situations, be forced to spend almost all of their time apart, and deal with scandals and setbacks.

2024 was a year I could never have dreamed of for both of them. Watching them both thrive so well, take charge of their careers and their lives to a degree never before seen, and to have so much time for their personal lives - it's all I've ever wanted for them.

And you can see how well they are thriving, how much happier they are, how much healthier they are, and how much of themselves is stamped on every single thing they do.

I frequently see fans spinning negative fantasies about them, and it makes me sad. As if there isn't enough pain in the world, why generate more in your own mind?

A lot of turtles tend to overly romanticize 2018 and 2019 because they were the years that The Untamed was filmed, promoted and aired, and that's where a lot of our favorite GGDD content was born. I think that's rather self-centered and shortsighted. If we take five seconds to remove our rose-colored glasses, surely we can see how difficult those years were for them.

Yes, they got to work together for a few months, they got to spend some fun time together promoting The Untamed and even got to be somewhat open about their affection for each other in front of a crowd, but outside of that summer dream, they were both in pretty precarious positions in their careers, and both of them faced a lot of really gruesome anti attacks. Neither of them had very much control over their careers or their choices, and their management situations were atrocious.

We don't even have to talk about 2020. That was an incredibly difficult year. GG was the focus of one of the worst cyberbullying and nearly career-ending scandals that's been seen in that industry. He was being threatened, the people connected to him and the brands that he dealt with were being threatened.

Any time he tried to do anything in his career, whether it was an appearance or an endorsement, antis would come out in droves and protest until it was shut down. There were active organized hate campaigns whose entire purpose was to destroy his life and his career. People were trying to infect him with COVID, and there were other threats upon his life. Multiple times online hate campaigns tried to spread the rumor that he had died.

He couldn't go anywhere without people following him and chanting hateful slogans at him and trying to infiltrate the hotels he was staying at. It was terrifying.

DD was constantly overworked, exhausted, always on the move with barely any time to come up for air.

They had to spend most of their time apart, including some of the quarantine time, when DD was isolated so that he could begin filming LOF, right when the worst of the scandal broke. GG's grandfather died, and he faced so many personal burdens.

They did get some fun times together of course, and there were some huge successes for both of them, including GG's spectacular comeback at the end of the year with his sea of red for Tencent All Star Night. Even turtles worked to help ensure he had his red sea.

And GG and DD got to clown around and be silly as well, and they made a real effort to show us that they were getting through fine, they would be okay and that they were still the same people, still able to be happy. We got so much candy that year, and so many great LRLG messages as well.

But that was just a sign of their character and strength. Make no mistake about it, that was a difficult year.

The intervening years between then and now have been a bit of a mixed bag. There were a lot of COVID frustrations (scheduling issues, Kafkaesque hoops to jump through, inability to travel outside the country, risk of ending up in a prolonged lockdown, inevitable health stress), they had to spend a lot of time apart and there were more and more crackdowns on the entertainment industry, on the queer community and on fandom culture, which made things feel positively dismal and oppressive - at times even scary.

However, it's undeniable that things have been gradually improving for them. They've both been building more and more autonomy and control in their careers, and building more respect from audiences and within the industry. They've both been prioritizing their personal lives more and more. And yes - they've BOTH been looking happier, more relaxed, more balanced.

I've talked about that a fair bit over the past couple of years. Most recently in this post.

Looking at 2024, they have had so much more free time in their lives, have been able to spend so much more time together in the same city, have spent time with each other wherever they were filming, and even got to travel and spend some fun downtime outside of China.

They are in such powerful positions compared to even a couple years ago. They have made great connections and worked on some amazing projects.

GG has been working with some of the top directors on some of the most anticipated projects in C-ent. He recorded an entire solo album and several music videos, and did all of that on his own time and on his own dime, and released it to critical acclaim and massive success with audiences.

He has been the talk of the globe in fashion circles and entertainment circles, and has been the face behind some of the most successful and exciting campaigns for some of the most prestigious brands in the world.

He got to travel a lot outside of China, and build on some of the great connections he's made over the years. He got to spend time with his parents traveling Europe!

He's given us so much incredible content with his vlogs and photo sets. It's just mind-boggling how much he's given us over the past couple of years.

DD took initiative to propose and participate in a documentary series where he got to explore interesting locations and engage in some of the most extreme outdoor activities. What could possibly be more exciting for someone like him?

He got to work with a team of conservationists who are fighting to save pangolins, and filmed a documentary there as well. Knowing him, that has to be one of the most rewarding things he's ever done in his life.

Both documentaries were highly acclaimed and award-winning.

Speaking of awards, he debuted as a film star and has been nominated for all of the top awards in China both for his film work and his drama work!

He has signed a new contract with his management company that will certainly have put him in a very powerful position in the company as their top breadwinner. He has been exceptionally successful with endorsements, holding more endorsements than anyone else in C-ent.

He got to play tennis on the top of The Great Wall with one of the top players in the world (regardless of how much I despise Djokovic).

He got to be an Olympic torch bearer! He is the ambassador for multiple high profile organizations and projects.

He earned his auto racing license, joined a racing team and finished in first place in his first ever auto race!

Make no mistake about it, they are both now solidly calling the shots in their own lives and careers, they are living their best lives, and they are both happier than I have ever seen them in all of these years.

And much more healthy! Just take one look at them and you can see how much healthier they both are. They've been playing a lot of sports and doing a lot of active outdoor activities together, and it shows in how much happier and healthier they are.

Frankly anyone who can't see that has their head stuffed firmly in a moist dark place.

I urge everyone to center GG and DD in all of our fandom explorations, theories and interpretations. The reality is that the more that they get to focus on their own lives and careers and personal freedoms, the less candy and CPN we're likely to see. We should be happy for them rather than try to spin sad tales about it.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XLII)

Chapter 42: ‘Love in such a way, as I… love… you.’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some cuteness, some cuteness!!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so no minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2761

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

If you’re leaving, leave in such a way That no trace of you remains in my soul. If you’re staying, stay in such a way That every corner of my heart Fills and overflows with you… If you love me, love in such a way That I am awed, that, meeting your gaze, For a moment, I vanish from life itself, That I hear no whispers, Distinguish no day from night, Feel warmth in the cold of winter, And coolness in the heat of summer. Love in such a way that my heart Thunders endlessly, and no other smile Can catch my eye as I’m passing by. Love in such a way that I wake up Filled with yearning of seeing you, And when I sleep, it’s only so You will visit me in my dreams. Love in such a way that I lose my mind, Love in such a way that I become drunk… Love in such a way, as I… love… you.

Paruyr Sevak

Andrew was afraid of moving too fast again.

You and Andrew had been dating for almost a year now. You were planning a trip to Galway for your anniversary, you would be staying for two full weeks during the summer. He couldn’t wait. He couldn’t wait to have you just for himself, without work, and essays, and students, and colleagues, and family, and friends. It was a little selfish, but you both had busy lives outside your relationship, and he reckoned it would be nice to focus on just the two of you for a few days. You seemed over-excited by the trip as well. It was still several months away, but you were planning already. He had caught you looking up paths for hiking, and sights to see, and restaurants where you could eat.

You were in his bed now, in his old Thin Lizzy t-shirt and your purple pyjama pants, buried under the covers. Your head was still under the blanket, and he smiled at the sight. He could hear you breathing loudly, trying to warm up the bed.

Such a simple gesture, and yet it filled his heart with love. The joy of slipping in a bed warmed by someone else’s body…

He grabbed his book, climbed into bed. You emerged then, shuddering and immediately snuggling close to him, stealing his body heat.

He wrapped an arm around you, bringing you closer.

“It’s so cold tonight! We’re in April, it should be warmer than this!”

“The earth is burning already… let us have a bit of fresh air.”

You pinched his side, unforgiving tonight, and it made him laugh.

“I’m cold,” you complained.

“Do you want one of my hoodies?”

“No… you’re warm.”

“Leave a bit of heat for me though.”

You slipped your hand across his stomach, and then under his t-shirt, bringing your cold fingers to his burning skin. You laughed as he hissed and shifted away.

“You’re so cruel!” he complained while you put your hand back on his chest, on top of his t-shirt.

When you looked at each other, though, there was nothing but love and tenderness in your eyes and in his. He bent down to kiss your forehead, making you close your eyes.

Andrew was afraid of moving too fast again. And yet there you were, in his bed, ready for sleep. You had spent the evening together, had eaten, talked about this trip to Galway, and watched a movie. It was natural for you to stay the night. You hadn’t slept apart in months. Not a single night. It shifted between your place and his but you were always together. Every night he kissed your lips and whispered he loved you before falling asleep, and every morning he opened his eyes to see you.

And he didn’t want it any other way. He wanted this forever, all the time. Every night, every morning.

He wanted to move in with you. He wanted to build a proper home with you, the kind that Sam had always refused with him. But what if you thought it was too soon? What if you didn’t agree? What if you got scared and left him?

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s going on? What’s your busy head thinking?”

You knew him so damn well…

He heaved a sigh.

“I’m just… worrying.”

“About what?”

“Us.”

“Us?”

“I just… I hope… I want…”

He heaved another sigh.

“Never mind…”

“Honey… is there something wrong?”

“No, no… nothing’s wrong. I… I want to ask you something, but I’m afraid you’ll say no.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Is it… a weird fantasy of yours?”

He burst into laughter.

“It’s nothing sexual. And I don’t have ‘weird fantasies’!”

“I don’t know… I could suddenly discover that you have a foot fetish or something…”

“Christ! No, you’re in the clear. I don’t have a foot fetish.”

“Good, I’m reassured. I love you, but I draw the line at you wanting to lick my toes.”

He made a disgusted wince, making both of you laugh for a while, the sound warm and familiar, like home…

You grew more serious again, rubbing soothing circles into his chest.

“What is it, though? That you want to ask me?”

He took a deep breath. It was now or never anyway. God, his heart was beating a thousand miles a minute, could you feel that? Could you feel his heart under your fingers? Did you know it was yours anyway?

“I… I was thinking that we could… maybe… like… I would really like to live with you.”

You blinked up at him.

“Like… I’ve been thinking a lot about us moving in together, these past few weeks. I… I would really like that. Would you?”

Your expression was unreadable for a moment, and he thought you would reject him, he really did… just like Sam. He was the fucking problem all along…

But then your lips broke into a toothy, excited grin.

“Yeah… I’d really like that.”

He blinked, trying to gauge whether or not he had misheard you.

“Really?”

His voice was weaker than he meant for it to be, only too revealing of how vulnerable he was right now.

And he both loved and hated it, the way you seemed to read right through him, to know exactly what he was thinking. You reached up for his cheek, said exactly the right thing.

“I want you. I’m not her. I want this, all of it.”

He nodded, trying to blink tears away.

“Good… yeah… that’s grand… like… erm… yeah…”

You leaned up to shush him with your lips.

“I’d really love to live with you,” you went on with a chuckle. “I mean… we kind of already do!”

“Yeah, that’s true,” he nodded with a little laugh of his own.

“Where would you like to live?”

“Erm… I don’t know… not too far from the city, I guess.”

You were silent for a minute or so, he rubbed circles into the small of your back.

“Do you think that one day we’ll buy a house together?”

His heartbeat quickened as he stared into your eyes.

“I don’t know… we’re not there yet, are we?”

“No, no… we’re not. But… like… would you like that one day? To buy a house? Maybe with me? Can you see that happening? In like… a couple of years?”

His heart was stumbling now.

You were seeing that? You, him? A house?

A couple of years?

“Elwood would finally have a garden.”

Elwood? You, him, Elwood? A house? A garden?

A couple of years?

“Yeah,” he breathed, his voice made hoarse by emotions. “Yeah… I can see that. I’d love that.”

You nodded, grinning.

“I’d love that too.”

You were both quiet for a moment, simply enjoying each other’s presence.

“God… Andy… we’re going to need so many bookshelves…”

Andrew let out a bright laugh, and you soon joined him.

And he was so happy. So goddamn happy…

“Jon, I swear to God… if you drop this…”

“I won’t.”

“Careful with it!”

“I won’t drop it! Relax, Andy. For God’s sake…”

You chuckled, fondly shaking your head at the two bickering brothers.

“Play nice you two,” you admonished.

Behind you, Raine was carrying a small package in the kitchen.

“Listen to Y/N. Be nice.”

“I am,” they both answered at the same time.

You heard John’s cane echoing down the hall, and indeed, he was soon in the kitchen as well.

“Huh… nobody has asked the only relevant question here,” Siobhán complained. “Where the hell is the beer?”

You all laughed at her, before you fetched in your brand-new fridge for a beer.

“Is that the first thing you put in there?” Alex asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

“Obviously,” you nodded, making everybody laugh.

You handed everyone a beer, looked around at the work you had accomplished. Everyone was busy with quiet conversations, Andrew with his family, while Siobhán and Alex were catching up, as they had not seen each other since the New Year. You smiled as you looked at them laughing, getting along well, like friends already. You heard Alex arguing that they shouldn’t let so much time pass before they’d talk again, this time around. If you didn’t know Siobhán, you’d have sworn there was a blush tainting her cheeks when she agreed. But then Siobhán turned to you, talked about your flat, about the work left to do and the one already done. All your furniture was in your new home, you now had to settle in properly. There was a rather large kitchen opened on the living room, a bathroom, a bedroom, two smaller rooms that you would turn into your offices. There was a small balcony too, just large enough for a square table and a couple of chairs. Elwood loved it already. He was spying on birds, sitting on the balcony, looking up at their shapes flying off and landing on the electric cables on the other side of the street.

It was simple, but more than large enough for the two of you. It was your home, to both you and Andrew.

You reached for his hand, and he immediately intertwined your fingers together, rubbing your knuckles in a soothing gesture.

“Well, it doesn’t look too bad,” John nodded, clearly content.

“It’s a lovely flat you’ve found,” Raine nodded. “And we saw there was a park nearby, as we were driving here this morning!”

“Yeah, it’s just five minutes away. It’ll be perfect for Elwood,” you nodded.

Andrew gave your hand a tender squeeze.

Alex was talking about decorating the living room and everybody listened, except for Andrew. Instead he leant closer to you, bent down to whisper in your ear.

“We’re going to make such happy memories here. I can feel it.”

You grinned up at him.

“I can feel it too, baby.”

And you were both right.

You heaved a dramatic sigh, the pile of essays scattered across your bed. A mess of paper and pencils across the blanket.

You had a headache, you hated your life, you hated university, you hated how comfortable and inviting your pillow was…

A low chuckle made you glare as you looked up at the intruder, who was walking in your bedroom with two cups of tea in his hands, his glasses a little lopsided on his nose, wearing plaid pyjama pants and his old Thin Lizzy t-shirt.

“Someone’s getting frustrated?” he asked in his warm voice, and you couldn’t control your reaction to it. Even after all this time, you still felt the same. It made you feel peaceful, dizzy with warmth and safety.

“I hate grading papers… Why can’t we just… do research, and give classes, but without the tests and the essays and the grading?”

“Because life is hard and highly unfair.”

You stared at him as he handed you a cup of your favourite tea, done exactly the way you liked it. The warmth of the porcelain was spreading across your fingers as quickly as the sight of his smile was warming your heart. You allowed yourself to stare at him for a moment. Smiling, warm and mischievous with his teasing, hazel eyes turned fully green in the tiredness of the night, the beard you longed to feel against your skin colouring his cheeks, and his long, curly brown hair was let loose and free to fall all the way to his shoulders. You settled your gaze fondly on the freckle above his right eye, and the curve of his long eyelashes, on the pink of his lips that you constantly longed to kiss. You held out your hand, and he immediately placed his own in your hold.

And you thought about Frank. About that man you had loved, and thought you always would. How you had almost married him. How you could have missed this moment, how you could have missed loving someone as wonderful as Andrew. How the best things in life are always so fragile, always on the verge of disappearing, or not happening at all…

“You’re alright, love?” Andrew asked with a small tilt of his head, worry making him frown.

“Yeah, just frustrated and tired,” you nodded.

But he narrowed his eyes at you, and you sighed when he read right through you.

“No… there’s something else. What’s bothering you, darling?”

You took a sip of your tea before answering.

“I was just thinking… how easy it would have been for us never to be together. Isn’t that crazy? I can’t imagine my life without you in it now, and we could have never been together.”

He nodded, let go of your hand. And at first, you thought he was moving away, but he merely walked around the bed to his side, pushed the papers you still had to grade further down the bed, and slipped under the covers with you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, and you easily yielded when he pulled you closer.

“Hmm… a lot of things could have gone wrong,” he slowly nodded. “We could have been put in different offices, you could have accepted that job in Belfast, our crazy plan about our exes could have worked out.”

“Do you regret it sometimes? That you didn’t end up with Samantha?”

He laughed at that, surprising you with the brightness of it.

“Don’t be silly! Of course, I don’t! I’m so much happier with you than I was with her. Nah… I have no regrets. I love you way too much for that.”

You grinned up at him.

“Do you? Regret Frank?”

But you shook your head.

“You make me happier than he ever did,” you answered, burying your face in his chest, and he bent to kiss the top of your head.

He grinned into your hair.

“So… no regrets in moving in with me and everything?”

“Actually… I do have one regret.”

He pulled away just enough to look at you, growing serious again as he frowned with worry.

“You haven’t kissed me since you’ve walked in the room.”

He rolled his eyes at that, mumbling something about you giving him a proper scare, before he would lean in and kiss you, slow and deep at first, a kiss that turned passionate and urgent as his hands moved across your body.

You shifted to get closer to him, knowing where this kiss was heading, and having no intention to stop Andrew when he moved his lips from your mouth to your neck. You lost your hand in his curls, moaning as he softly bit the fragile skin over your pulse…

You were both startled as the pile of graded essays fell to the floor.

“No!”

You rushed to gather them in a new pile, groaning and mumbling under your breath. Meanwhile, Andrew was picking up the rest, and setting them aside by the bed.

“I need to finish this tonight, love,” you admonished, nodding towards the papers he had placed on the ground by his side of the bed.

“It’s almost eleven. No more work.”

“And I thought you were the one who was always working.”

“I’m always writing, not grading essays.”

“Hmm… and yet, I haven’t heard anything in a while.”

He blushed, making you smile fondly at him.

“I have a few poems ready for you, if you want,” he mumbled under his breath, growing shy and making you giggle.

“Oh! I can’t wait to read them, my love.”

He grinned at the earnestness in your answer, but still told you to discard the essays for tonight.

“I have better plans for us, like…” he quipped, wiggling his eyebrows and making you laugh, although you could still feel butterflies erupt in your stomach at the sight of his tempting stare.

“Oh, really? And how do you suppose you’re gonna convince me to drop my academic duties in favour of sinful activities?”

He grinned, something devilish and awfully charming.

“That’s the easy part, darling,” he spoke with a voice deeper and lower than his usual tone, that made your very soul tremble.

You blinked as he took off his shirt, put away his glasses. You stared at the marble skin, longed to touch it…

You struggled to swallow, and dropped the essays to the floor.

“Alright, okay, I’m convinced. Kiss me…”

He laughed; a grin on the verge of cockiness at his success forming on his lips; still, you let him have his win.

But when you gently held his lower lip between your teeth, he was the one begging for more…

[lost-romantique]

Stolas' Conundrum~

What I love about Stolas' conundrum is how much of a lose - lose situation it is. By the events of Mastermind, there was no winning for Stolas.

Stolas has two people he cares the world about and can't live without: Octavia and Blitz.

Sinsmas ends with Stolas being disowned by his daughter for breaking the promise he made to her back in Loo Loo Land.

"Are you gonna run off with him? And leave me behind? Go away where... I can't find you?"

"What? No! No, no, never. I'd never do that. Never."

Here's the thing, as much as it would be nice to imagine a situation where Octavia happily runs to her dad and forgave him for everything he's done.

It isn't that simple because you're asking a 17 year old girl, who has always felt like an afterthought in every episode she's been featured in thus far... to forgive seeing this...

And her finding out that her father has been taking antidepressants throughout the entirety of her childhood probably doesn't help either, but I digress...

Sinsmas ends with Stolas being comforted by Blitz, but emotionally destroyed and drained from his loss of Octavia.

Stolas may have lost Octavia, but she isn't dead.

And as Blitz said, "... you just gotta keep trying."

But here's the fun part, lets say Stolas didn't choose Blitz. Lets say he chose Octavia at that moment and decided to stay for her sake.

After all, Blitz is a motherfucker~ He did break his heart in the worse and dumbest way possible. And remember by Apology Tour, this is what Stolas thinks...

"Oh, I don't think you meant to hurt me, 'cause I don't think it meant a thing at all." But the thing is that Stolas choosing Octavia, is essentially the same as saying that Stolas is okay with this...

That Stolas is okay with Blitz dying.

That Stolas would ultimately be okay with Blitz dying for the crimes that they both willingly took part in.

That Stolas would be ultimately fine with living in a world without Blitz in it.

But that's where I think people are wrong... Because the show and Stolas make it very clear that he isn't okay with that...

After all, Stolas loves Blitz a lot...

Then you walked in my room And like sparks in the dark Life was suddenly thrilling and new

What's left for me and my broken heart If I cannot have you?

My entire life's been written in stone He taught me that I could choose

But I, I keep on waitin' Waiting to want you less than I do And I do, oh, I do, yes, I still do want you

I would rather be dead Than live life without you by my side

I am the mastermind The master of my fate

Sure as the stars have shined I'll give my life to clean your slate

You're my light

How could Stolas be happy, if his light dies?

[fancyfeathers]

Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

Previous Chapter <- Chapter Five -> Next Chapter

“What do you mean you told him you didn’t know?!” Clove pressed you, sitting at the foot of your bed, it was early morning, not even dawn and now everyone was back from their patrols and it was just you and your friends, and they were all gathered in your room and they all lost it when they saw the open ring box on your bedside that Gabriel had left behind with you.

“I mean I told him I didn’t know, I mean it came out of nowhere.” You responded to her as you towel dried your hair, having just got showered and dressed. “It’s not like I don’t want to-“

“Then say yes!” Nettle urged you, who laid across your bed, scrolling on his phone but slamming it down when he heard your pitiful excuse for your seek on time with your boyfriend. “Look, you’re our friend, but you can’t do this forever, this is the life you’ve always wanted, I know because you’re an honest drunk and you told us-“

“Okay, enough said!” You snapped, slamming your towel on the bed next to Nettle before sitting down next to the two on your bed with a heavy sigh. “I will think about it, it’s not a no, it’s just a pause-“

“You should reject him.”

You all screamed when you heard a voice that was not one of your own speaking into the conversation as if they have been here the whole time. You all turned your heads about to see the familiar face of Damian, or rather Robin standing in your bedroom doorway. Your brother just rolled his eyes and walked over, he reached a hand out to your nightstand where the ring was but Foxglove, who was sitting on the edge of your bed, slapped his hand away and grabbed the navy blue velvet box before he could and handed it back to Nettle who passed it to Henbane, who was leaning against the far wall of your bedroom.

“Damian… how did you-“

“Father and Barbara found the way into your system with the scraps of your gear and used your so-called friends’ trackers to find…” He glanced around the room, your bedroom, a judgmental look in his eye as he did so. “…place.”

“…fuck.” You heard Foxglove mutter under her breath, not even realizing your security had been slipped behind and used against you all.

“Father was going to come retrieve you himself later tonight, but I thought I would spare him the trouble, but it seems you have been running about Gotham telling everyone who you were.” He glared daggers at you and to all your friends, stepping forward towards where you stood, poking his finger into your chest, which made you wince as your body was still bruised and recovering from what happened to you two nights prior on the bridge. “Do you know what would have happened if he had figured out all of our identities, the danger you would have put everyone in all because you decided to be a selfish little brat!?”

“Selfish… I’m selfish?” You muttered under your breath as you just looked Damian in the eye, too overwhelmed and overcome with emotion to look away. You gritted your teeth, grabbing him by the wrist and twisting it back. “I had no life before this, and now that I have my own world outside of your own you call me selfish?!”

“You live in a warehouse, you left everyone behind for this of all things?” You felt in a sudden moment his other fist come down onto your wrist of the hand that held onto his, breaking your grasp. Before you had a moment to recover you felt him blow a punch to your gut, knocking the air out of your lungs, and if that wasn’t worse enough he kicked up into your gut, knocking you to the ground. He looked over your body, glaring down at you. “If you are so strong now little sister, then fight me, beat me and I will leave without a word to father.” You could only cough and wheeze, trying to catch your breath in your already weak state, but you could not manage to in time before Damian dragged your body up and pinned you against the brick wall, his face only inches away from your own, feeling his hot and angry breath against your skin. “Of course you can’t, you are weak, you were a fool for leaving all those years ago and you were a fool for running again.”

“Get off of her!” You heard Nettle’s voice shout before there was a grunt of pain from Damian, his grip loosing up enough for you to slip out and for Clove to shove you behind her and Nettle. Then you got a good look at what Nettle did, he stabbed Damian in the shoulder, one of the throwing knives he used on his own patrols. “You can leave, she didn’t need you all then and she certainly does not need you all now.”

“She has us now.” Clove spoke along with Nettle, standing up to the assassin trained vigilante. “We look after her and she looks after us. She doesn’t need you breathing down her neck, it’s like you all are stalking her.”

Damian glared down at the knife that stuck out of his shoulder before glancing up at you all, the four of them standing in front of you as if to protect you from him. He ripped the knife from his shoulder, not flinching as it did so. He tossed the blade onto the floor and turned around, walking away, but he stopped in the doorway and looked over his shoulder.

"Father will be coming for you soon."

With those words, Robin was gone, disappearing out of the room and the warehouse, leaving you and your friends behind.

"We need to go, pack everything, we are leaving tonight, we can't stay here any longer." You said to your friends as you pushed past them, limping towards the metal staircase that led down to the main level of the warehouse.

"Where are we going to go?" Henbane asked from the bottom of the stairs as the rest of them followed behind you.

"Somewhere... anywhere that isn't here."

"Wait- you mean like, leave Gotham?" Nettle questioned, looking at you as he jogged up to catch up with you. "Why would we leave? This is our home."

“No… we can’t leave, we need to keep working…” You paused in your tracks, glancing back up at your friends and then back down to your feet. “I’ll call Mr. Austen, see if he can help, get a new security network and comm lines back up and get us somewhere else to hide out.”

“And for you to rest, right?” You stiffened up at Henbane calling out your shit which everyone noticed and you swear you could practically taste their disappointment. “Change of plans, we’re gonna find a place to hide out and we’re going to find you a place to recover.”

_______________________

“Thank you for this.” You spoke to your boyfriend as he helped you walk to the couch, one hand holding yours and letting you lean your weight on him and the other carrying a duffle bag of your clothing that Clove packed for you. You felt guilty when you informed that Clove had reached out to him again, asking for his help in taking care of you. You had just told him that you did not know if you wanted to marry him or not yet after all. “I don’t deserve you, Gabriel.”

“Yes you do, I’m the one who does not deserve you.” He sat down with you as you sat down on the couch, leaning into the plush surface with a heavy sigh. You felt his arm come around your shoulders, pulling you close. “The chef is making caprese sandwiches for lunch with those garlic fries I remembered you liked. My parents know you are here but they are going out for dinner tonight after their meetings so I thought salmon rice bowls would be nice or maybe carbonara pasta.”

It felt weird, stepping back into all of this. When you were little, when it was just you and your mother, you had private chefs, a household staff, your mother’s personal assistants. Then when you ended up back here in Gotham you were never left to care for yourself since Alfred always looked after all of you, even when you stayed with Dick in Blüdhaven he never even let you near the kitchen. When you ran away you had none of that, you were eighteen and had to learn basic skills because no one ever bothered to teach you on top of learning how to fight, all of that on top of being separated from your mother and not knowing if you’ll ever see her again, having to part with your whole identity, becoming a no one. You never got a break, never let yourself rest until now, four years later.

“Hey, hey, hey, are you alright?” You heard Gabriel speak to you, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and guide you to look him in the eye, he always knew when something was wrong. “Are you alright, dove?”

“Oh… y-ya, I’m okay…” You leaned into his hand, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax into his touch. “That sounds nice, I skipped breakfast this morning anyway.”

“Oh okay, I’ll text the chef and let her know to give you extra fries and make an extra sandwich for you in case you want more.” He took his phone out and typed something up before setting it down and pressing a kiss to your face, just beside your eye. “Can’t have my favorite girl going hungry on my watch.”

“You treat me way too well.”

“I treat you like the way you deserve to be treated.” He smiled before his phone buzzed with another text and he looked down at it and then back up at you. “Do you want orange chocolate cheesecake or lemon cream cake for dessert?”

“Mmmm, you’re going to make me sick.”

“Then I get to take care of you even more, doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

_______________________

“Say ah.” You laughed as your boyfriend pressed a spoonful of cheesecake to your lips, he was practically doing this at this point to smear some of the chocolate drizzled on top onto your face so he can kiss it off. But you just opened up your lips and pulled the cheesecake off with your tongue, your lips trapping the sweet treat in your mouth as he slipped the spoon out. “Atta girl.”

You two sat at the dining room table next to each other. You were dressed in your pajamas and he was dressed in a white button up shirt and black dress pants with black matte leather lace up ankle boots. Honestly it did not surprise you how he dressed, he was the heir to one of the biggest fashion companies on the East Coast, it made sense. You had finished your lunch and there were plates of cheesecake for each of you, but still Gabriel slipped you bites of his own plate.

But honestly it was the best thing you have tasted in years.

“Hey Gabriel…”

“Yes Dove?” He looked at you, setting down his spoon on the side of his plate, he was giving you his full attention. “Something wrong?”

“No, I was just thinking… I want to marry you, I really do, I… I just don’t want you to get hurt because of me.” You felt ashamed, you could not make yourself look him in the eye, but yet he was so gentle and patient with you. “I don’t know how to settle down or what I want to do… I was expected not to go to college when I was young and honestly I just feel trapped where I am right now but I can’t do it forever, what if I get hurt beyond repair.”

“Well why did you go into… vigilantism in the first place?”

“To spite my father and siblings… and to protect Gotham, I suppose.”

“Well… that was not the answer I thought you were going to give, but we can work with that.” He responded in a tad awkward tone as he pulled out his phone. “You said you didn’t think you would be allowed to attend university and get your degree? Do you still have your grades from high school and your ACT scores?”

“No… those are all with-“

“Don’t worry about it, I can get those for you, just a few calls to clear everything up.” You watched him turn the phone around to face you, the home page of the Gotham University website. “Applications end in a month but my family is the largest donor to the school so I’m sure they’ll give you a second chance, they also have online classes as well.”

“This is sweet and all but I have no clue how I’ll pay for this-“

“I will.” He spoke, setting his phone down on the table and picking up his spoon again, cutting into his slice of cheesecake again. “The tuition is pocket change to me.”

“I still can’t let you do tha- mph!” He shut you up by shoving cheesecake into your mouth mid word, and your surprised reaction made him laugh as you swallowed the cheesecake down your throat.

“You can’t stop me, I am telling you what I am going to do, dove.”

_______________________

“Dove, are you ready to go?”

It has been almost two weeks since you have started staying with your boyfriend and his family. Foxglove has recovered from her own injuries and is back on patrol and you are on comm lines and cameras, you’ll be sitting up in bed with Gabriel cuddled up into your side, his arm wrapped around your waist.

Now you are fully recovered, or at least recovered enough. There was to be a charity gala tonight, Gabriel was going to stay behind with you and his parents were going to go by themselves and then you told them something at dinner last night…

“I… I could go if you want me to.”

And my oh my did they absolutely adore that idea, especially Mrs. Christel, she practically dragged you off to find dresses for you like you were a doll, though she picked items you actually liked, not everything that your family dressed you in when you used to attend these sort of events.

“Yes, I’ll be out in just a second.” You called out to him from the bathroom as you slipped on the back of your earring onto the earring in your earlobe. You opened the bathroom door as you grabbed your phone from the counter, a new one after you had to get rid of your old phone in case it was getting tracked, another gift from your perfect boyfriend. He was sitting on his bed, dressed in a black tuxedo with a small pink peony pinned to his suit jacket. His eyes went wide at the sight of you and his lips fell slightly agape and now his reaction made you laugh. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful, absolutely gorgeous, dove.” He spoke to you as he stood up from the bed, walking over to you and setting his hands on your waste and pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. His hands trailed down to your hand, pulling you along to head out. “My parents are waiting for us in the car… wait a second.”

He paused after his fingers intertwined with yours and he felt something off, he glanced down at your intertwined hands to see what was on one of your fingers…

The engagement ring.

The way he looked at you was the same way an overextended puppy gets when they hear their owner say ‘park’ or ‘walk’.

“Is this… I… do you?”

“I do.” You replied, reaching your hand up to his cheek and leaning forward to kiss him on the other cheek, leaving a slight lip gloss stain. “I want to marry you.”

_______________________

You are truly regretting saying you will go to this charity gala. Your heart pounded in your chest as you sat in the car with Gabriel and his parents, his hand resting on your thigh while you could hear the over excitement in all of their voices as they talked about your future wedding, you suppose the apple never fell far from the tree.

You felt as if you were going to vomit as you felt the car slow down, the sign as the car pulled up to the museum that the party was being held, the Gotham Art Museum. You could see the flashes of paparazzi cameras and the loud shouts of conversations and attempts to catch people’s attention.

“Hey, you’ll be alright.” You heard Gabriel tell you as the car door opened and you saw his parents step out of the car first and a part of you wanted to shrink off into the corner of the backseat of the car, letting the car drive off. “I’ll protect you, no matter what.”

You could only nod as you watched your boyfriend step out of the car, giving a brisk nod, smile, and wave to the paparazzi before reaching a hand back to you to help you out of the car like the gentleman he is. It took a huge act of courage for you to take his hand and allow him to pull you out of the car and the moment your foot took a step onto the concrete all eyes were on you.

It felt like you were going to have a heart attack or a panic attack as you heard the paparazzi shout your name, your old name, your real name. It all made you want to vomit especially when the flashes of the camera blinded you.

“Miss Wayne, where have you been?”

“Is your disappearance anything to do with your relationship with your family?”

“Why are you not with your family tonight?”

“Wait…”

Damn it, it was only a matter of moments before they noticed the ring on your finger.

“Are you engaged to the heir of the Christel family?”

“Does your engagement have anything to do with-“

You looked up to the top of the stairs that led up to the museum entrance and your heart absolutely plummeted as you made eye contact with your father.

[cherie-doll]

i hope the day is good for you 🫶🏻 (english is not my first language) can you please write a story with cod men, about what would they do when the reader doesnt make it home from the mission - like they are waiting at home for her but she's dead.

thx for submitting love <33

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: They Waited For You

౨ৎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He didn't believe it at first, there was just no way... he immediately got to verifying all his sources, even went down to talk to the other soldiers who had been a part of your team

You were supposed to come home, he expected you to come back to him, safe and sound like always but instead of falling asleep and exhausted in his arms like you should've been by tonight, your corpse was out there somewhere missing his embrace

He thought of how he could've prevented this from happening, yes he still blamed himself for anything bad that happened to you despite it not being in his hands, maybe if he could've kept you from going, why did you even feel the need to continue doing this?

There was no one else he cared for as much as he did for you, which truly said a lot of your relationship, but since he met you he felt an overwhelming urge to show love like he'd never done before, nothing else on earth deserved this dedication like you did

He deteriorated rather quickly, the mornings became grim and he couldn't bear to see the sun setting without thinking of how much you loved letting the rays caress your arms and let your eyes take in that golden light, you looked so beautiful in those moments

Ghost

Since he met you, there was finally a stage in his life he could think of purely, sure the relationship wasn't perfect, but this was something he could be reminded of and he didn't have to fight to keep it hidden in the back of his mind, he let the memories emerge to the surface and ponder about them

It had been something pleasant but it had been ripped out of his hands far sooner than he would've wanted, his fantasy that had become a corrupted reality, it makes him want to die, badly, but he always found a way to survive the deadliest situations, somehow he always did; as if he was cursed with immortality

But this? He felt no desperation urging him to dig out of the hole he was sinking into, the walls closing in on him from all sides and he made no effort to push it away, it felt sort of relieving being cramped and paralyzed since he couldn't see the path ahead of him, with you it had become so obvious and clear what he wanted but now there was nothing worth moving towards

Did life always want something from him? Just when he thought he lost everything he could lose, there was always something else being pried out of him, it was painful because it was forcefully taken away just when he was getting attached, when there was no foreseeable evil trying to destroy him there was some good, and you had been the best unexpected thing in his life

Soap

You were like an illusion he had always dreamed of and finally were achieved, a life so dreamy and ideal he thought would never be in his reach, but he had been permitted to have it for a short while with you

Within your time together a love so beautiful had bloomed, it was sweet how sublime it had felt, you had been youthful, still beaming with so much life within you but tragically cut short, those years had gone and went unused

He couldn't find the sense within him to comprehend why it had to be you, your death had been like a cold slap to the face, he had once again become aware of the disheartening reality he lived in, that nothing was secure nor did everything stay the same forever

Well, he knew about the forever part, but did it have to come so soon? He had to gather the strength within him to continue forward and he wasn't even sure of that, there was still so much left unsaid, so much still to be done, and how frustrated he was that it would all be forgotten and left unfulfilled

A sadness like no other would coat his existence, swallow him up and change him beyond recognition, his mind would be invaded by memories of you that will replay until they burned and ceased to exist... the day he ceased to exist

Gaz

All those days that he had spent with you had been the most fulfilling days he had ever experienced, he could remember the warmth of your hand, the weight of your body asleep next to him on the mattress, the security knowing you valued his affection and returned it

He truly felt the happiest with you and he wished to be encased in that happiness forever, but how naive it was of him to think it was possible for even a second, life was always moving and throwing hurdles at us that seem impossible to avoid, it's only a matter of time misfortunes come to us all

By simply contemplating and reminiscing, he felt grief beyond help and any consolation couldn't do much for him, wistful memories came to him and he could not sleep at night, all they did was leave a dark imprint on his mind

His caring nature did not change, he thought with time he could heal and learn to move on, but some things never change, and a sore spot still brings pain when pressed too hard, he would mull over this no matter how painful it was to do so

How he misses to hold you in this moment and kiss you

Roach

The news of your death came like a hard blow to his face, and he was left clutching his chest, eyes watering with tears as he desperately tried to cling onto some comforting memory in his mind

Restlessness follows immediately, even at night sleep does not come to him no matter what he does, the memories you shared seemed to tear him apart rather than anything help him, but he didn't want to forget you either

He knew he couldn't get you back and he had lost you forever in this life, panting and gasping he would awaken from his nightmares, the little sleep he got would do nothing to comfort him, and you weren't there to comfort him, to silently hold nor ease with your voice in his ear

His mind wanted to deceive his heart, make him believe you were somewhere far away but still thinking of him, that he could close his eyes and imaging resting his head on your shoulders, basking in serenity as he lost himself in the waves that lulled him

Alejandro

He was overtaken by bitterness and anger, his better judgement was clouded far beyond reason at the most valuable treasure in his life forever gone, the feeling of longing would become a hole he'd spend his days trying to fill with wrongful acts

All he wanted and needed was your touch to remind him reality was there and not as cruel as he thought, you had still met and loved in your time and nothing could take away what had already been done, he could live blissfully in life knowing you had known each other

But could he be satisfied with that? He could strongly feel the ties that bound you together still tug at his heart, and every year he remembered you, would set an altar for you and fill it with what were your favorite foods and things

He would stare at your imagine, remembering how he once had kissed those lips, stared into your sparkling eyes that watched him endearingly, your face he had held within his hands...

He could never have that back

Rudy

He missed delicately tracing your face, his fingertip raising softly over every curve and line, your silhouette against the wall when you rose that morning, early so you could still say your goodbyes to him and tell him to expect you back very soon, this one wouldn't be too long you said

You had left him a content man, he'd sit around the house and wait, he would take it easy these days because you'd be back soon, but he wasn't ready to withstand the tumult he'd find himself in

His heart had become haggard in the days following your death, he had absorbed every bit of warmth and clung to the last signs that you had left behind, he wished he had been there, to ease your last painful moments before death, how much did that train of thought torment him, day and night it ran through his mind

In sleep, he dreamt of terrible ways you had encountered death, surely, you didn't have a peaceful one, you were healthy and fit to make it, something terrible must have happened but no matter how much he wished to know the cause of your death it wasn't given, most likely for the best to remain unknown

Phillip Graves

He often boasted of having you in his life, it was such a fortunate occurrence when you met that he didn't think it was entirely a coincidence, he loved doting on you and hold you in his arms knowing you were there for him

You had already confirmed the date of your return, but that day came and passed and there was no sign of you, worse yet no message or word had been heard on your part, it was he who had to dig and find out that you had been KIA

It felt like a strong blow to his chest to have you ripped away from him, he knew the harsh reality and danger he was constantly under, he just never imagined it would get to you one day

You shouldn't have paid for his sins or errors, he wished you had stayed out of the battle, but you had your own life to carve out and ultimately it had been your decision

Much time would have to pass before he'd be able to say your name, for the longest time he'd whisper it, as if afraid it'd shatter his reality even more, staying in the air reminding him of what he lost

Makarov

You were forever gone from his grasp, how was he to cope with that? The fire that had warmed his insides, making every act of his be out of love for you suddenly halted, reduced to nothing but ashes and now he was left to sweep the heaps of it

The emptiness growing and knowing there wasn't a piece to fit or make him whole again like you, you were a unique piece, the edges weren't cut with delicacy that an experienced hand could replicate, there wasn't a mold to follow to shape something else into you

You sprung out of chaos and spontaneity with ease, there was a lightheartedness you brought out in him that brought out the best in him, all of it offered to you who didn't greedily take but lovingly returned

He didn't want to believe someone like you could just be taken away from him and have nothing done about it, just when he thought he could be tender he'd return to his old ways, the resentment stronger than ever and tied to his heart, obscuring and consuming him

Keegan

How despairing did this turn out for him, never had he imagined he'd lose you, all that time he had spent training with you, preparing for when the worst could happen and each time you had managed to slip away, always

Except this time you weren't fast enough, he knew those shoulders held up a levelheaded person, who confidently calculated their every move, it was unfair you had been taken

His brows are now furrowed, thinking this just has to be some sort of protocol you're following, faking a death isn't all that uncommon, maybe you were still alive out there, hiding away somewhere for your safety, each day he held the pitiful hope that you'd come back to him, then he'd nurse your injuries and help you stand back up

But moons waxed and waned and you didn't appear, and he couldn't hold the fragments of you close to his heart if you wouldn't be around to reignite them and make them come true again

His palm that had curled, clutching the remnants loosed and he had to give up that foolish dream and accept reality as it was being presented

König

Was it cruel if he wished it was you who had received the news instead of him? He thought it would have been that way, he often joked about the benefits you'd get when he passed, it wasn't supposed to be you to leave earlier than him

Relaxed he was sitting in the armchair until he received the terrible news, his breaths became desperate as he tried to get air into his lungs, he wanted to march down there to the field himself to collect you, to not believe it just yet

Maybe you'd be down there, hiding away in some corner like the sly fox you were and say you had managed to dodge the bullet this time

But he was disappointed with the outcome of things, he hated it when things didn't follow the path he set for them but no one could have controlled the outcome of this course, it had left a profound wound in his heart he wasn't sure he'd be able to heal from

You had parted without saying your goodbyes and now he wouldn't be able to live with that, to live longer still with you in the back of his mind

Horangi

He hated anything that brought the slightest trace of despair, and he dealt horribly with it, he ran on pure serendipity but now he couldn't count on that, was it by being at the wrong place and time you had been one of the lives lost, the most important one to him

He felt the urge to go back to his old ways of numbing out the pain, but he pushed that temptation away, it would only drain his money and everything he had worked for go to waste, he knew you wouldn't have wanted that for him and right now he just wished to keep the traces of you very much alive and present

He wanted to go about his days as if you were still there, the flower you planted, he tried to keep it alive and water it, the way you left your stuff around the house, that way it was easier to transport himself to a time when you were there with him, still at home

The people of the past are hard to forget but he didn't mind, he faced the situation with more determination than he himself expected, he was surprised at the resolve he had come up with

He had loved without regret, and with every passing day he'd be closer to reuniting with you again

Nikto

The only sound occupying the complete silence is the static in his mind, he's just numb, doesn't know what to do, what he should do with whatever emotions he's trying to detect, he must feel something

He was just delivered the worst news of his life, he should be breaking down and crying but he can barely even process the fact that you really are gone, he looses his train of thought every five seconds and can only stare forward as if in a trance he's unable to escape out of

He feels the long seconds drag by but he can't get up from his fixed spot on the chair, it's like a knife has been plunged into his side and pulled out, leaving the gaping wound pulsating softly, but he can barely hear his flesh scream out in pain, he can only feel the blood oozing out, staining his clothes and falling to the floor in droplets as he actively ignores it

He is hurt but can only clutch at it, he can't get up, feels far too comfortable sitting on this kitchen chair staring forward to the wall, elbows resting on his knees

[laurasimonsdaughter]

What’s your preferred way of portraying lycanthropy and werewolves in your works & media?

For me I love having lycanthropy being like a chronic illness. Having it be a serious, but manageable condition that werewolves must deal with in their daily lives. The symptoms and transformation causing them a lot of inconvenience/ stress/ and if ill managed serious risk to their health and those around them. But it’s not a death sentence or condemnation, a werewolf can live a safe and fulfilling life as long as they manage their lycanthropy properly.

As for their wolf form, I like my werewolves more akin to a dangerous wild animal rather then a bloodthirsty murder machine. Their wolf form can be hazardous but isn’t beyond reproach, attacks being avoidable as long as the werewolf isn’t antagonized or threatened. And one of the big things I like to focus on is that a unrestrained werewolf is a bigger risk to themselves then to others, as in their animalistic state their prone to getting into dangerous situations like getting hit by cars or shot by Hunter or law enforcement.

For me it depends entirely on the kind of story I'm telling!

I like your approach, I think it would work particularly well in an urban fantasy setting that isn't too dark, but still grounded in realism.

For my generally lighthearted fiction, I usually prefer writing werewolfism as something genetic that people are born with, that is neither a curse nor an infection that can be passed on. This allows me to dive into ways to manage living as a werewolf without all the fear and tragedy:

Like parents advising kids on clothes that are good to wear around the full moon.

And werewolf families having pack instincts that include humans.

Or human parents adopting a dog to keep their werewolf kid company.

While I do sometimes write werewolves that can transform at any time at will (because it's funny) I do think that weakens the werewolf-ness of it all a bit. Loss of control and animal instincts are a big part of the appeal of werewolves for me and shifting because of the moon (or because of strong emotions) belongs to that. But how the transformation works and how in control they are once in wolf form, again depends on the type of story I'm telling:

So I might write a werewolf that can be taken by surprise by their transformation and end up locked in their apartment, looks fully animal, but does retain human intelligence.

Or a werewolf who has trouble changing back to human form if they get a little too lost in the wolf part while the moon is out.

Or a werewolf who gets progressively hairier and more wolflike the closer it gets to the full moon. (I'm very fond of this concept, because I get to have my wolfish human and my majestic fully transformed animal.)

Or a werewolf that starts shifting just a little when she gets a little too distracted by her girlfriend because emotions and instincts get tangled up.

But all my werewolves are generally mostly non-violent (unless provoked) and not murderous, even if their animal instincts tend to take over from the humans side sometimes. While I appreciate that a complete loss of control and (threat of) violence is a big part of werewolves for many people, it's just not something I enjoy writing. I also think that side of werewolf stories fit better with the "lycanthropy as a violent infection or curse" concept.

And the only time I've written a werewolf that was infected and considers the transformation a curse was for a fanfic, because my friend and I needed an excuse for copious angst and hurt/comfort that could slowly be turned into self-acceptance and happiness~

[glossypolaroidkisses]

Hi lovely!! I just read your recent response to an anon question and saw you mention being an eldest daughter and omg as a fellow eldest daughter how do you think lu would be like with a hyper independent girlfriend who basically had to learn things in life on her own and isn’t used to having people genuinely want to help her without feeling like she owes back ?

I can’t wait to read your works xx

Hello!! Thank you for being here:)) I really appreciate all the support, mwah! I see you, you're valid! It's rough out here!! As the oldest sister with a younger brother, the sexism on top of all the responsibilities was exhausting. My experience as a parentified child may shape my perspective, but I hope this still resonates with you as a fellow eldest daughter <3

(Scroll down to skip to oneshot)

Luigi to me, very much seems like a giver. Generous partner! Always wants to help you with things, acts of service! He is obviously anti-materialism, but loves gifting you items that involve your hobbies and interests; Books of your favourite genres/tropes, if you like painting, he’ll buy you the finest paint-brushes and acrylics. Wanna stargaze?; He’ll research to buy the highest quality telescope for you. 

He loves showering you with compliments, and he’s a natural helper. It’s second nature to him! It’s how he shows the people he loves that he cares, by helping.

He’s not flashy or materialistic, but he buys things that he knows will provide meaningful experiences for you. 

You grew up having to manage everything yourself from a young age. When someone gave something to you or did something for you, you were always left having this expectation of the favour somehow having to be returned. You’ve always had to be ‘the fixer’. Because of how kind and capable you are, you have ended up in toxic friendships and relationships where people took advantage of your kindness and willingness to be helpful. 

You struggle to let your guard down, believe that others are genuine, and accept compliments or help of any sorts. When being offered assistance, your instinct is to hesitate and refuse. 

Before your relationship was serious and you started living together, Luigi only saw your hyper-independence on a surface level; just like everyone else. On the outside, you just radiate bad bitch energy. You’re always busy, working and completing tasks. Luigi loves strong women who know that they don’t need a man for their lives to be fulfilled. You’re intelligent, capable, always handling things on your own with confidence. To be frank, he finds it sexy! 

It wasn’t until you started going over to his place more frequently, that Lu picked up that your independence might come from a place of obligation rather than choice, a survival instinct born from a past where asking for help often came with conditions, expectations, or disappointment.

----------->

Here is one of many oneshots showing how this dynamic could play out! Yes.. this is going to be a series! Once I post the other oneshots, I'll link them at the bottom of this post, or in the comments. Enjoy!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

General Themes: Trust, vulnerability, emotional healing, reassurance, understanding, sensitivity, love and care

Gender: Mostly gender-neutral, use of "girl" once

Smut?: No

Warnings: Emotional distress, crying, anxiety, possible triggers for past trauma (misunderstandings, interpretation of actions, self-worth issues)

Word Count: 1439

You’re cooking in Luigi’s apartment, standing at the stove. You hum a tune, swaying lightly as you stir in the pot. “Mmmm,” You hear your boyfriend from a couple of feet behind you. After a few steps, you feel his large hands gently grasp your sides, then his arms wrap around your waist. “Smells amazing, baby.” he murmurs by your ear, placing a couple of gentle kisses on your neck.

You stop humming, your body stiffening. Luigi immediately notices, lifting his chin from your shoulder, “Everything alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, I, I just..” You pause. “I’m not in the mood right now, Gi.” you admit. Luigi steps back from you, confused. He leans against the counter next to the stove so he can properly see your face. “I wasn’t trying to have sex or anything, y/n.” he calmly says, genuinely explaining his intentions.

You hold eye contact with his concerned gaze before looking down at the pot, though there’s no real need to monitor it. You’re just stirring soup. “Oh.” you feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you. “Why did you come up behind me then?” you ask, voice a little shaky. Luigi tilts his head, his thick eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He looks away for a second, then shifts his gaze back to your embarrassed expression. “I just wanted to appreciate you, my love.” he says, his tone soft and sincere.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the emotions before your eyes can visibly tear up. “I’m sorry, I just thought you did that because you wanted it to.. lead.. to something..” you explain. You look up at Luigi again, searching his face for any hint of frustration or confusion.

“No, no, no, I didn’t.. I don’t know why you..” His voice trails off, confused, He takes a moment to think, “Did I do something? I--” Luigi starts, trying to navigate this situation carefully since he can tell you’re in a fragile state. You quickly cut him off, desperate to reassure him, “No, you're fine. You’re perfect. It’s just my brain, I read the situation wrong.” You say in a rush, verbally trying to escape the situation. You force a short chuckle in an attempt to rid the awkward tension.

Luigi takes a deep breath. He steps forward from the counter, towards you. He lifts his hand, delicately pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Is it okay if I touch you?” he asks softly, staring at your face despite your gaze being focused on the soup again. You nod, unable to look at him. He cups the side of your face with his hand, slowly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “You can talk to me about anything, love. I promise I would never do something to you expecting it to lead somewhere, or get something out of you, okay?” he reassures, sincerity written in his tone. You nod. “I’m glad that you felt comfortable telling me you weren't in the mood, though. You must’ve felt so guilty. I would never want to make you uncomfortable.” he says, his voice full of compassion. You nod again, biting the inside of your cheek.

You feel your eyes finally surrender, glazing over with fresh tears. Fuck. You already see Luigi’s expression shift in your peripheral vision. “y/n, baby, what’s wrong?” his voice laced with panic, but trying to maintain a neutral tone.

Avoiding eye contact, trying to regain some control over yourself, you set the spoon down on the stove. You turn off the burner. Thinking his honest words from his heart would help, Luigi is confused at what appears to be you emotionally shutting down. He’s analytical, used to approaching things logically with fact, and solving them with ease. It hurts his heart, not knowing how to immediately and effectively help you.

You step away, your head in your hands. Crying in front of others has always been something you tried to avoid—an old habit from years of being mocked for your sensitivity. Your palms press into your eyelids, as if you believe that pushing hard enough will force the tears back into their ducts. It’s no use. You try your best to take deep breaths, but they’re stifling. Your chest feels tight.

You’ve never been loved like this. You’re damaged. Your past has made it difficult to trust these moments. You accidentally accused him of trying to throw himself onto you, and yet here he is, treating you.. like this? Apologizing to you? Being so graceful, so patient.. with you? It makes your heart ache.

Luigi watches you from a distance, helpless. He doesn’t know exactly how to help, but his heart aches for you, wanting nothing more than to ease your pain. He walks toward you again, determined to offer comfort, even though he isn’t sure how.

Luigi watches you from a few feet away, distressed and helpless. His gaze shifts around the room frantically, up and down your body trying to read its language. His mouth gaped slightly. He needs to act quickly. He wants nothing more than to ease your pain, but he's unsure of how. He walks towards you again, determined to offer comfort one way or another.

“You’re..” you begin an attempt at explaining, stopping Luigi in his tracks. “You’re so kind.” you say, a full fledged sob following your words as you break down completely.

Luigi’s tense shoulders drop, his heart shattering at your words. He could never have imagined that his care and patience would feel so foreign to you, that it would bring you to the point of tears.

You feel his strong arms envelop you, drawing you close against his chest. His lips press a gentle kiss to your forehead. You move your hands to his back, returning the embrace and burying your face in the warmth of his chest. Luigi’s chin rests softly atop your head as you dissolve into his comforting presence, your sobs quieting in his hold.

“You deserve…” he pauses, a lump catching in his throat. He’s never seen you this broken before. “... all the kindness in the world. It's my duty to love you.” he whispers, his voice reveled in emotion.

You catch up to your inhales, taking deeper, more controlled breaths. Tears continue to stream down your face, but not overwhelmingly, with Luigi's hoodie gently absorbing them. With the newfound sense of developing control over your body, you muster the courage to lift your face from Luigi’s chest.

Your puffy, red-rimmed eyes reach his glossy gaze. You didn’t expect to cry in front of him, ever. Normally when you cry, you run to your room, find some way to hide. You never imagined Luigi would see you like this, so raw and vulnerable. His lashes are damp and clumped together. In his eyes, you see that your pain has affected him as if it were his own, yet there’s a sense of relief as he finally meets your beautiful gaze once more.

He sighs deeply, a weight lifted. His hands reach up to cup your face, his thumbs tenderly stroking your cheeks, as if they are your personal windshield wipers.

“My beautiful girl.” he whispers, a small grin tugging at his lips. You smile back, your heart glowing. You place your hands on top of his, feeling their warmth. Closing your eyes once more, you lean into his touch, feeling a sense of security you've never known before.

You look up at Luigi, “Thank you.” you whisper from the depths of your fragile heart, the weight of gratitude in your voice. “I know.. I have so much I need to tell you. I promise I will, eventually.” you say. He nods, that sweet grin having yet to leave his lips since you met his gaze. “Take your time, amore mio. I’ll be here.” he says.

You chuckle lightly, wiping any remaining tears with the back of your hand. “I never thought anyone would see me like this.” you admit.

“I’m honoured you let me. You never have to hide any parts from me, not ever.” Luigi says softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

Reaching up, you caress the side of his face, feeling the stubble beneath your fingers. You pull him down to your level, smiling as his lips get closer to yours. Closing your eyes, your lips meet his in a tender, passionate kiss.

Luigi carried you to his room, where the rest of the night unfolded in a quiet, healing embrace. Cuddling, sharing gentle kisses, opening up more about your childhoods to each other more than you ever have. You shared a comforting bowl of soup before going to bed, sleeping soundly in each other’s warm, safe embrace.  

a/n: hope you enjoyed!! please feel free to leave all sorts of feedback; the good, the bad, the ugly.. LOL i appreciate anyone who took the time to read all this! thank u sm to anon for the request! xoxox!

tt

[philosophicalparadox]

Oh 100% Itachi is a parental figure to Sasuke. And you don’t even have to look at Itachi to see it.

Sasuke treats him more like a father sometimes than a brother. Especially given the overall narrative that this series usually establishes about father-son relationships, which to be fair are also reflected a bit in teacher-student dynamics but nowhere near as much.

And that narrative overall is not unique to Naruto but is a rather typical shonen trope thing about having a goal to supersede your father, to best him at his own game, or to otherwise surpass him. (This is a deeply cultural thing in Japan…but I am not going there today).

And while occasionally brothers do stand in for this as ordinary brothers, usually if a sibling, trope wise, has to step into the “you must live to surpass me” role, it’s because they’re narratively a paternal figure.

And like I said, Sasuke’s got all the clues here. He:

Is always looking for Itachi’s attention, be it positive or negative

Obeys his brother without even thinking about doing otherwise even long after the massacre*

Pre massacre, he’s clingy and needy towards Itachi because his father won’t give him the time of day, but also because canonically that’s just how he’s always been. Sometimes babies really do pick their parents. (I’ve been in that situation, sort of, otherwise I’d of said it seemed unrealistic. But no, sometimes a little baby just says “no, YOU get to be my mom!” And there’s really nothing you can do 🤷���♀️ this happened twice, with my niece AND grand nephew.)

Sasuke is always striving to best his brother, even after the massacre, like when he was training with the Kunai, trying to beat Itachi’s record. Yeah that’s a typical sibling thing, but in the bigger context, like after Itachi’s death when Sasuke is once again trying to out-do him, it feels more shonen-trope-fatherly to me. (Though I will concede that I only really watch Shonen that leans in the general direction of Seinen, which is to say more mature themes that twist the typical Shonen narrative; Naruto both is and isn’t an exception to this. Point is I’m biased lol)

* in reference to two:

There is one poignant scene in which Sasuke doesn’t kill Naruto explicitly because he doesn’t want to do what Itachi tells him to anymore. He then semi reneges on this later and decides that severing the bond is more important— he’s still technically not doing it for the reasons Itachi said, but he has changed his mind all the same.

After Itachi dies, Sasuke decides to go counter to his brother’s wishes, but he’s ultimately still doing what he thinks Itachi wants…sort of.

Now, before I go here, I want to say that this is entirely my interpretation, and you’re free to disagree.

But when Itachi tells Sasuke to hate him more, that he’ll only get stronger if he harbors more hate…a lot of Itachi haters take him literally here, and/or are very confused by it. But in my mind, what Itachi is actually saying as a deeply traumatized 18 year old with limited life experience who has just come back to the place that started it all and probably isn’t in a great place is:

I want you to hate me as much as I hate myself.

And, in particular reference to the “you’re weak if you can’t hate with all your heart” thing (I don’t have the panels on hand) :

I want you to throw away or erase everything you ever cared about just like I did.

As someone who has dealt with severely angry and angsty teens before, this is the message I heard. He wasn’t really goading Sasuke on, insofar as he was looking for someone to commiserate with. And nobody else but Sasuke would genuinely understand. I don’t think it was a planned response, personally— Itachi wasn’t looking for Sasuke, and didn’t appear to know that Naruto was his teammate. So my bets are on that being an impulsive reaction to a stressful situation and Itachi trying really hard to put a wall between them while inadvertently pleading for closeness.

But the point is that Sasuke heard what he meant, not what he said. Because he knows his brother. And Sasuke did exactly that — threw away everything, just like Itachi, severed his bonds, just like Itachi, became a rogue, just like Itachi, etc.

You could very well argue that Sasuke just went and did that if his own accord trying to feel closer to Itachi, which I would completely believe. But either way it’s far more son-father than brother-brother in its dynamic. Don’t get me wrong they absolutely have their bro moments, like when Sasuke is chasing Edo tensei Itachi down and calling him a big fat liar essentially, and being a complete child while Itachi basically rolls his eyes at the Drama 🤣 it’s both funny and sad.

But overall there is certainly a sense of paternalism in their relationship. But it’s not solely defined by Itachi, which makes me wonder how anyone ever missed it.

Ever since @shinoposting made a post about Itachi being a more parental figure to Sasuke a couple of months ago, I've seen several angry responses to it, with the sentiment that "Itachi fans want to make Itachi look good and their parents look bad."

Listen.

A five-year-end boy is left alone on the night of the kyuubi attack with his toddler brother.

He doesn't even seem disconcerted, but instead promises "I'll always protect you, no matter what."

Itachi is the one who sits with him, despite his busy schedule, despite grieving Shisui, and despite being burdened with what's more than he could handle, he took time to check on Sasuke's report card.

Itachi was also ready to abandon his first Anbu mission for Sasuke's sake. It was after this their father even recalls he had to go to the Academy.

Itachi "ignored" Sasuke. And, like, what do people even expect from someone who's been this much burdened that isolating himself is the only thing he can do to protect Sasuke and his innocence?

Yet, Itachi doesn't know exactly how not to be distant. That's a sign of how much he was suffering at this point. He was "bad" after the massacre, but before that, he was kind and sweet, who cared about nothing but Sasuke's wellbeing.

[akookminsupporter]

Hello, I'm not sure if you'll see this or not but I thought I would ask so I know everyone is excited about BTS year this year and is eager to anticipate their return, and I kind of wanted to talk about the infantilization of BTS prior to their MS and when they come out, so I do know at their core, BTS will still be the same loveable people, but my thoughts are running on who defines what infantilism is when it comes to the boys, for example: I was being accused of infantilizing Jimin and Jungkook because I found some of the things they do cute and adorable, I mean, they have cute moments right? (AYS for example) I still acknowledge they are grown adults and respect them as the adults they are, but now I'm questioning if these things that I'm finding cute really are babying them and I don't want to treat them like that/that way, so i wanted to know if you wouldn't mind sharing your thoughts on this?

Hi anon, how are you? Happy New Year!

Oh, this is an interesting question.

I think what’s happening in the case you’re describing is that the people saying that to you don’t really understand what “infantilisation” means.

Infantilisation happens when we treat or perceive someone as if they lack the maturity or ability to be a responsible adult, regardless of their actual actions. For example, if someone dismisses their ability to act, their opinions, or their choices by labelling them as "childish" or incapable, that’s infantilisation.

A fandom example is when people think they have the right to decide for X members whether they should stay with the agency, collaborate with certain artists, or interact with certain members. It happens when someone undermines a member’s decision-making ability, treating them like a child who doesn’t know what’s best for them. It’s not about finding them cute or endearing – it’s about treating them as though they can’t differentiate between right and wrong or make their own choices about what to say or do. That’s the kind of infantilisation many of us criticise in fandoms and, honestly, on the internet in general when it comes to fans of public figures.

In your case, what you’re describing sounds more like appreciation for their natural charm and personality rather than denial of their maturity. In Korean culture, there’s something called aegyo, which is basically acting cute – almost like a small child being adorable. It’s a big part of Korean entertainment, not just in K-pop, and BTS is known for doing it too. Sometimes it’s their personality shining through, and other times it’s part of their persona. You can usually tell the difference depending on the context.

So finding someone’s actions endearing without dismissing their adulthood is perfectly fine. For example, enjoying how Jimin and Jungkook interacted during AYS (or their playful dynamics in general) doesn’t mean you’re erasing their adulthood. They were often super cute during the show, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. That’s not infantilisation – that’s you finding their actions adorable or cute.

Before Jin and Hobi were discharged, I wondered if that side of them would change – if they’d stop being these cheekily adorable and sometimes mischievous people for their fans. But it hasn’t. From what we’ve seen, they’re the same as they were before, just with a year or two more life experience. That’s it. We don’t know if they’ve changed in private, but honestly, that’s none of our business.

Jungkook’s December Wlive was a perfect example of my point. He behaved just as he always has in his lives, especially over the past few years, and more than a few fans called him cute and silly or said they just wanted to squish him because he brings out those emotions in his fans. That doesn’t mean we think he’s a child – some people do, and that is infantilisation – but most of us simply find him endearing at times.

The misunderstanding of terms or labels also reminds me of how some people in the fandom label anyone who happens to see a member in public, take a picture, or mention it as a sasaeng. Or how some even describe certain fansites as sasaengs. A sasaeng is an obsessive fan who invades a celebrity’s personal life and privacy; in this case, is someone going to extreme lengths to follow or interact with idols. A fan spotting a member in public and taking a picture or just mentioning seeing them in X place isn’t being a sasaeng. This behaviour of misunderstanding terms or labels is not new.

I don’t know what’s going on lately, whether it’s newer fans or something else, but I’ve seen people on social media trying to police things that really don’t need policing or making others feel bad for things that are pretty standard in fandoms like this. For example – and I think this wasn’t specifically our fandom but a K-pop stan in general – someone tweeted criticising people who collect photocards. Like, why? Why should anyone feel bad or embarrassed about collecting photocards? Collecting is one of the most normal hobbies ever. Some people collect photocards, others collect toy cars, and some even collect women! (That last one should honestly be a crime, but that’s another conversation.) Why is it okay for men to collect photocards of sports players, sorry, I mean “sports cards” but not for people to collect photocards of artists? The double standards in society are wild.

Anon, I think it’s amazing that you’re so self-aware that you’re checking in with others to see if your behaviour might be problematic. That says a lot about the kind of person you are. In this case, I don’t think you have anything to worry about – but the people who told you that definitely do.

[benchwarming]

i meant to reflect a bit before the end of 2024 about the experience of quitting my job last summer, but then my holidays were disrupted by norovirus AND conjunctivitis 🤪 so i didn't get around to it. until now!

i quit my job in august. i'd been at a startup for 6.5 years and had no plans to leave, buuuut then we were acquired in '23 by a big multinational firm. i won't get into all the ways that our new parent company eroded what had been to that point a pretty good place for me to work, but man, it fuckin sucked.

i was admittedly sensitive to it because "toxic legacy corporation led by sociopaths and staffed by mediocre assholes" was exactly the environment i was escaping when i'd joined the startup. but having to kowtow to a new c-suite of boomer-brained idiots with no sense, strategy, or discipline at a company i never wanted to work for in the first place was excruciating. especially bc i then had to turn around and try to make the best of their idiocy for a team of people* looking to me for reassurance and motivation.

i've never quit a job without having my next one lined up. it took like a month to admit to myself i was serious about the idea. then another month to be convinced by friends and fam that i was allowed to quit. then a few business days to calculate how long my finances would hold up. then another month to figure out what would have to happen for me to actually go through with it.

but of course something did happen, and i did quit. it was very scary!!! and i felt so guilty leaving my team. but i was able to kick off some freelance copywriting work right away, and a freelance consulting project came my way after that, and more things popped up after that. and while i have a lot to learn yet about how to make freelancing a sustainable long-term career, i'm extremely confident that it's worth it to try, at least for a while, bc uhhhh i am. SO much happier?!

i don't think it hit me exactly how much work i was doing, or how hard i was pushing myself to stay on top of it all, until i didn't have to do it anymore. i'm still getting used to that honestly. for the first few weeks i'd jolt awake worrying i'd forgotten something on my to-do list or automatically pull up zoom bc i felt sure i had a meeting to attend.

in comparison to that garbage, freelancing has been easy breezy. but i don't mean easy like mindless, i just mean like - i'm able to dictate the terms and scope of the work, and as a result it doesn't feel like "stuff i have to do" so much as "stuff i'm working on." that may be a distinction without a difference for a lot of people but it's turned out to be a pretty big deal for me: if i gotta work to live (and right now i do), then getting to call the shots and fully own the results makes it easier to conceptualize the work as an opportunity (fun! interesting! good use of time!) rather than an obligation (annoying! inflexible! standing between me and fun stuff!). and after years of managing a team it's such a relief to be responsible only for myself again.

of course the other thing i had at that job was a good salary. and i won't lie, i really miss the money. but i think i can get my income back up in that ballpark by the end of 2025 if i play my cards right. and even if i don't, i know now that enduring corporate agonies for that kind of money is no longer a worthwhile tradeoff for me.

since quitting there have been moments where i've felt dumb for not realizing sooner that freelance would be a better fit at this point in my professional life than a staff job. but i went into 2024 knowing i needed to take some kind of step forward in my career, and i did, and i learned stuff about myself in the process, and now i hate being alive at least 25% less per day than i used to. and that's sort of the whole point of everything, right?**

*by december, 80% of our department would be laid off, and the few left over would be desperate to leave. a really unfortunate end to an incredible marketing organization.

**of course now my therapist is like "so since 2023 was your Living Situation year, and 2024 was your Career year, does that mean 2025 is going to be your Relationship year?" and ughghghfhfhgf. like she's right, but. ugh. but she's right! but UGHHH

[loving-family-poll]

2nd Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 2

Propaganda under the cut

Jesus/Mary:

And then Jesus did fucketh his mother amen

Cmon man it’d be really fucking funny

It's never gonna happen BUT imagine if the last poll ended up being Jesus/Mary vs Lestat/Gabrielle. Heavenly Mom/Son VS Trashfire Creatures Of Darkness Mom/Son

Technically double incest due to the Holy Trinity: Jesus is God, which means he's both Mary's son and Mary's Father. Insert "calling your son Daddy" joke here

We wouldn't have Michelangelo's Pietà or Fabrizio De André's La buona novella concept album without them

Mary pretty much pushed Jesus into performing his own first (official/canonically recognized) public miracle at the Wedding at Caanan. If she hadn't spoken up? Not only would the wedding itself been a disaster and tanked the couple's reputation, but Jesus would have spent his life being like "uhm, but I should wait for a REALLY important occasion to use my divine power..." until like Lazarus

What if you were young and pure and unused to much besides life in a temple and your entire existence was shrouded in prophecy and mysticism to the point you were Chosen by God as the vessel for His own incarnation but then said incarnation turned out to be like. Just a child, besides the occasional weird Unearthly Wisdom Moment or early miracle. And what if you loved that child above anything else, despite having been forced to flee from your homeland due to his very conception putting you at risk of persecution and death, despite having had to give birth to him in rather miserable conditions, despite your husband almost leaving you over him. And then it turned out your child was never yours to begin with, but the whole world's sacrificial lamb, and you had to watch him suffer through one of the most excruciating forms of torture in history after the betrayal of his friends, and watch him be mocked and insulted and denied a chance of salvation right before that, to the point that even he, who had previously literally walked on water and raised the dead from their graves, eventually lost hope and despaired. And his last, anguished words were for his silent Father, asking why He'd abandoned him, but you were there the whole time, there near the cross you knew you'd watch him die on, and he'd tried giving you one of his own disciples, the one he loved the most, as another son to lessen your pain, to give you someone else to live for, but how could he ever expect you to be able to love again like that?

Gerard/Mikey:

brothers from new jersey. grew up spending a lot of their time together in the basement. we've all heard of flowers in the attic time for flowers in the basement. disgustingly in each other's space constantly. weird offputting freaks you met at a house party or basement show once. they share dawn of the dead in their list of favorite movies which i think is just kind of cute.

went to a smashing pumpkins concert together and decided being in a band is what they wanted out of life.

became the vocalist and the bassist for one of the most influential emo bands of the 2000s. as with any band that tours, especially in early days when you're not that popular, just a lot of room sharing and being noticeably in each other's space. people also consistently joking that they can read each other's minds.

gerard wrote "brother" about mikey and it's suspiciously close to another song he wrote ("summertime") which is straight up one of the most heartwrenching love songs mcr has ever come up with which is really really saying something. not to downplay brother either, because its pretty crazy. actually im just submitting summertime and brother as propaganda.

gerard has, on stage: licked mikey's nipple, pantomimed giving him a handjob, and generally groped him.

my personal favorite is the time gerard had to physically pick up and move mikey to keep him from getting set on fire from stage pyrotechnics.

they also look nothing like each other until they really really do which isn't exactly propaganda so much as porn material. you put glasses on gerard or take glasses off mikey and get them looking the same way and they look literally like the same person

in an interview gerard described teenage mikey as ‘wearing tight, black clothes’, ‘looking like a hooker’, and ‘looking like a piece of chicken’

gerard has gotten up close and personal with mikey during performances of destroya (a song in which 90% of the lyrical content is him moaning) to the point where during a performance one of their bandmates yelled ‘get away from your brother’ at him

gerard also ran a hand through mikey’s sweaty, sweaty hair and along his jaw, then licked it

gerard has written frequently about incest, and when asked which of his characters he related to the most said one who was in love with her brother

gerard is into lots of strange stuff (vomit, piss, inflation, potentially guro) it really would not be a stretch for him to be into incest

This Gif (https://www.tumblr.com/gerardcest/764335264300744704/why-does-he-touch-his-brother-like-that?source=share)

[erasinglines]

where did they go from here? he didn’t have an answer for that. now that he thinks about it, he never has. all they’ve been doing is taking it day-by-day, doing whatever they could within their power to just figure it out. neither were perfect at it, in fact, miller’s been entirely flawed in this process, clinging to whatever remnants were still between them, no matter how crumbled and shattered they had become. it’s better than not trying, he thinks— to have allowed the physical distance, the pain of seeing her with someone else, get the better of him. would rather fight everyday, tooth and nail, to remain in her life, if that’s where she wanted him. he would do anything she asked. and of course he wishes this had all been different for them; that he’d found a job locally, instead, that he’d fought harder when she insisted that he just go, aim to reach dreams that came to fruition, that only ever felt possible, because of her. it wasn’t the cards they’d been dealt, though, and that’s a painful truth he’ll always have to live with, the ache if it radiating in his chest, cracking his ribcage. at least, now, they were both willing to make this work, as best they could, no matter how confusing, how difficult, it’s all become. that’s why there’s relief twining into the smile that tugs at his mouth— at least they had this, here, time spent together, grounding them in a moment that will soon be lost. “ i always want you around, too— there’s never been a day when that hasn’t been in the case. ” there never would be, either. and even if his desires run much deeper than that, even if he isn’t entirely sure he can only be her friend, he chooses not to speak on it, knowing how much damage he’s already done, tonight. “ and i’ll try to not make things too hard on you, hm? even if i can’t help it… not sure what you want me to do when it comes to just standing, but i’ll do it. i’ll even learn to keep my mouth shut— maybe they can be my new year’s resolutions. ” he teases, corners of his mouth only lifting until it’s a full-pledged grin, across his countenance. it’s safe here, again, this space between them, which only emboldens him all the more, turning his hand until he can lace their fingers together, feeling the jolts of electricity that course between them. “ i happen to like your unfiltered thoughts, though, ” even if they’re hard to hear. “ actually, maybe that should be one of your resolutions; think i want to hear more of them. ” because this streak of honesty, as difficult as it has been to hear, at least meant he knew where they stood. and he hears it at the same time she does, the echoes of voices inside, counting down to the start of a new year. it cuts him off from saying that he always wants her, always has, and he doesn’t know if that’ll ever go away. he doesn’t make any effort to move from this spot, though, gaze soft, knowing, as he traces the contours of her face, all the parts of her that he has memorised. “ yeah, we probably should… fletcher will be looking for you too, right? probably freaking out that he’s lost sight of you. ” his words aren’t bitter either, the strain of their night dissipating with each moment that passes. his gaze ends up at her lips eventually, drawing around their outline, a small step closer without thinking twice about it, free hand reaching for her hip, fingers splayed along it’s most prominent part, 3, 2, 1…

despite their harsh words and jilted whispers to each other tonight, at least one good thing came from it— their newfound honesty with each other. it wasn’t easier, per say, to know these things about each other and their respective relationships, to hear how unhappy they both were with a new partner, but she can’t deny how relieved she feels to know it’s not one-sided, that neither of them could really let go of the other, no matter how hard they try, or who they find themselves with. it seemed impossible, really, considering just how ingrained he is in her soul, in every fiber of her being. it had always been like that, since the moment they met; almost as if it was meant to be this way, that he was the only one who was ever capable of filling that empty space inside of her. it’s just another reason why she hates that he ever questioned it, that he entertained the thought that her and fletcher’s relationship was better than what they had, based on some lie she spewed just to rile him up in a moment of weakness. even then, she wouldn’t blame him if he couldn’t forgive her for it, if she somehow ruined this, that day, and in all the moments since, without even realizing it. but once she sees him step closer to her, too, and hears the timbre of his laughter, real and warm, not torn from the darker parts of his chest, that worry begins to slip away, replaced by something that some might consider even more dangerous— hope. hope that things would change for the better from this moment onward, that they would maintain their honesty with each other and no longer fall into the trap of miscommunication and jealousy. they could be mature about this, couldn’t they ? only time would tell. “ of course i want you around, miller. i always want you around, ” she smiles softly, looking up at him in earnest, knowing that he would never purposefully hurt her— it’s something she thought about a few weeks ago, too, looking up at him, seeing the love and tenderness in his eyes as their bodies intertwined, knowing that she was always safe with him. “ but yeah, actually, you have made things super hard on me— it’s cruel and unusual punishment to see you across the room, looking like you do, and know that i can’t touch you like i want, ” it’s spoken teasingly, attempting to drain even more of their previous poison from this conversation, attempt to start anew, entirely.  “ i haven’t been very fair on you, either— i actually think i’ve probably been the fucking worst, with all the stupid shit i say. i don’t think i have a filter, with you, and i definitely should, ” she chuckles, soon pausing then, to reach out for his hand, running her thumb against his. just a simple touch to ground her in the moment. “ but we’ll start over, and if you still want me here, then i’ll be here. however you want me. ” if they couldn’t be more, she would take whatever she could get. it’s only seconds later when she hears the noise of the bar rise past the brick— the countdown to midnight was happening now. “ shit, we should probably go back inside, hm ? eden’s probably looking for you. ” and it’s not spoken with any previous jealousy or malice, but concern, afraid that this might cause more strain, despite not making any sudden movements away from him. 

[echoesofadream]

taecho a/b/o au where I am an alpha taehyung is omega and he is making me go like this

with his perfect perfect perfect lean toned long fleshy smooth silky soft perfect perfect body he probably smells like earth and ocean and honey and musk and strawberry and caramel and vanilla and my alpha needs to claim him so bad im going to bite him not just his neck I need to bite his thighs and arms but I will bite his neck and give him my mark and I will.breed him

military wife alpha era

[skunkes]

can i ask why ur getting the surgery? /gen curious /no hate

i am getting a bi(lateral)salp(ingectomy) bc i never want to be pregnant or be a parent!

Even if i do change my mind later about the parent thing (not super likely but things can change, sure) theres noooo shortage of single parents lmao

And even if I never End Up In The Circumstance(s) Where I COULD Become Pregnant in my life, I'd want the peace of mind anyway...

I've always felt disgusted that this is something my body is capable of. I want it to be MY body and not a site and vessel for potential tragedy in any direction. And I want it to be something permanent and not dependent on access to services/medicines or even laws!!! Dis is a gender affirming surgery for me honestly...

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

One day

One day I hope people realize that Kitsunami already "broke through his programming" back by issue #56 of Idw Sonic

He had an entire mini arc where he dealt with being without Surge for the first time, and in the real world. He met Sonic and his friends directly, tried to work out what his purpose would be without Surge in his life (gave it a shot trying to devote himself to Sonic, seeing him as the next best thing after Surge). And when it was all said and done, he decided after experiencing more that at Surge's side is where he wanted to be.

As of the recent IDW issues, Kit isn't sticking with Surge "because of programming" and "because he just needs for other characters to friend him and turn him into a better person". He is at her side because he wants to be. He protects her and aids her because he cares about her, not just because he's serving the strongest guy in the room. And he's not interacting with others because he's decided not to give a shit about anyone else other than Surge (because from his pov, even the "good guys" are fake. From his pov, everyone is someone trying to lie and manipulate their way into pulling him and Surge to their side)

Kit already has decided what he wants to do with his life. And he decided it on his own. Not because of anyone else's wants or wishes. That's the whole point of his speech at the end of #56.

He's burying whatever his and Surge's past is and moving forward with his conviction to be with Surge because it's what he wants.