#all this attention is making me very happy

[maaarine]

Why are British teenage girls so unhappy? Here’s the answer (Caitlin Moran, The Times, Sep 13 2024)

"The report, by the Children’s Society, found that British 15-year-old girls are the most unhappy in Europe.

British girls aged 10-15 are “significantly less happy” with their life, appearance, family and school than the average boy — and their happiness is still declining.

Boys’ life satisfaction, meanwhile, remains broadly stable. (…)

But I still didn’t have an “aha!” moment about why this so disproportionately affects girls until… I talked to some teenage girls.

It was at a party, and I went to vape with them on the patio. Because I take my nicotine like children do.

“Duh — it’s the boys,” one said when I brought it up, as all the others agreed.

“The boys?” I asked.

My last book, What About Men?, had been all about how much boys struggle these days: their loneliness; their suicide rates. I’d spent the past year feeling very sympathetic towards boys.

“Yeah, well, who do you think they’re taking out their unhappiness on? It’s us,” another girl said.

“One boy at school used to draw a picture every day of how ugly I was,” a third girl said. “Every day for two years.”

“They’ve all got ‘Rate The Girls’ polls on their WhatsApps,” the first said. “They mark you down for weight gain, haircuts, what you say.”

“But then, if you’re hot, it’s just as bad, in a different way, because they’ll be talking about how they want to f*** you.”

The girls discussed coping techniques. Bad news: none of them worked.

“The only way you can stop them is if you become ‘one of the boys’ and hang out with them. But then,” the second girl said with a sigh, “all the other girls call you a slut. Because you’ve gone over to the boys’ side.”

“Surely it’s not all the boys?” I said. “There must be some nice boys?”

“Oh, yeah,” one girl said. “But they keep their heads down. Because… well, look.”

She showed me the Instagram account of her friend. Under every picture she posted of herself — smiling in a new dress; with her dog — dozens of anonymous accounts had replied with the most rank abuse.

“Fat.” “Slut.” “You gonna try and kill yourself again, for attention?”

“They’re all boys from her school,” she said. “And look, this one boy tried to defend her.”

I saw a series of messages from a brave teenage boy, posting things like, “You’re all big men, leaving these replies under anonymous accounts.”

As I could see, this boy immediately became a target too. Mainly accusations that he was “white knighting” this girl: “You wanna f*** her, bro?”

“So,” I asked, “you don’t think it’s social media pressure to be beautiful, or the economy, that’s making girls so sad?”

“Well, yeah, them too,” the first girl said. “But, Monday-Friday, 9-3, I’m not on social media. I’m not… in the economy. I’m just with these boys. And no one talks about how horrible they are.”

I thought about another recent report, showing a 30 per cent ideological gap between Gen Z men, who are increasingly conservative, and Gen Z women, who are increasingly progressive.

I thought about Andrew Tate, who has nine million mostly young male followers — and faces human trafficking charges, which he denies.

And I thought: maybe these girls are on to something. Maybe more people need to vape with teenage girls and ask them for the school gossip."

[beautifullilacsky]

Babygirl. We have come so far.

Today, your thoughts turned around to the past. They shook hands with the way we used to treat ourselves. It started off on a note I'd never expect it to start off of, though; look at that picture of me, the one in the natural pool in Madeira. The first time I looked at it, I was truly surprised and shooketh. "Damn, I look thin", as to which niklas said that that's how I always look, I am, in fact, thin. I didn't count, but I think I asked him at least 3 times. "Do I truly look like this?" He did say that the angle might be making me look extra thin, but yes. Suddenly, it all clicked. How to him, I can seem so fragile. So fragile that he'd always let me walk first on hikes to make sure the pace is okay, always carrying the backpack himself. The way he is scared of hurting me, like, physically. The picture looks like a tiny, thin, and fragile girl. Yeah tbh, she also doesn't look particularly strong. You can see her collarbones. Her ribs. Her shoulders. Tbh, she also looks a bit like a petshop. I do think the gopro did something with the angle there, u can't tell me my head is out of proportion to my tiny body, lol. My point is. Today, I was doubting whether or not I should eat those cookies. After thinking if it'd make me thick, I remembered. I am v thin, more weight wouldn't be so bad.

I never expected to truly feel skinny. Or well, 'too skinny', at least. To think I could gain some weight; it wouldn't be a problem. That is very new to me. After 25 years. Some of those years being spend hating my body and my belly and feeling overweight, even if my teacher even told me that being underweight is dangerous, her eyes seemingly insinuating the obvious.

Yet here I am. This one picture. And tbh, the other pics or videos of this vacation, don't have the same vibe. So I do think it's the angle. And maybe a bit of a fishbowl effect. Either way. It got me thinking. And suddenly I was thinking of it again: boobs. I am also reading 'the 7 husband's of Evelyn Hugo', who seduced men with her big boobs. Somehow, booby enlargement came to my mind again. Why? It's been so long. I have learned to love my boobs, yet this blast of the past came into my head. Actually,.. it is just a thought. It is actually nice. A reminder of where we came from.

How I hated my body in the past. And here I am. Loving every single part of it. Frankly, I love my boobs the way they are. Sure, they might not be super big, but I don't need to hold them when I run or sprint down the stairs. Sure, they are soft in the middle instead of pointy, but I think it's fascinating how certain temperatures, moods and touches can change that. Sure, they don't touch, but at least it also won't create a hot brew in there or trap my clothes inbetween or underneath my boobs. Honestly, they are truly perfect. (Even the little pimple on there right now. Even though I am a bit scared; is it truly a pimple? It should be, it behaves like one for sure.) I can cup one into my hand; it is a perfect fit. As if they were made to be held so gently and smoothly. So filled with love. So, ... true. My hand can touch all of its beautiful creases. They don't overflow my hands, nor do I need to search to find them. Sure, some might have bigger boobs, but not everyone likes that. Some people get attention just because of it. I am truly happy to be able to say that a lot of people just like me for my personality. The looks are for sure also there, but at least my boobs don't get eye-fucked or objectified. I am myself. Perfect the way I am. And I am grateful to be this exact way. I think my boobs are adorable, they are cute, and truly. Truly beautiful. Thanks boobs, for being w me always. And I'm sorry that I didn't see the beauty of you guys for a part of my life. I am happy that I do now, since a while. Love u, boobies. Lol.

Anyhow. I wish to send myself love letters. See this is a loveletter to one of the bodyparts which I was insecure about in the past. Let me show them some true love, which is exactly what they deserve.

[sashayed]

I haven't said as much about electoral politics this year as I have in previous cycles, because I am exhausted like everyone else and have nothing new or helpful to add. That is still true, so caveat lector I guess lmao!!! Happy American Election Day Fellow Sufferers!!

I have been experiencing an internal backlash the last few years to my extremely Sorkinpilled D.C. private school upbringing -- my childhood spent as a kind of convent schoolgirl in the faith of The System Is Good If We All Participate, which of course has a uhhh let's say generously a minimal engagement with the ways in which many of us are by design shut out of participating. I don't think idealism is necessarily childish, but I think MY idealism certainly has childish qualities, an undergirding of 90s feel-goodism, of civic participation as a subtle ego stroke and of voting -- although I would never have consciously put it this way -- as a way to feel superior to people who don't vote.

Lately there has bubbled up in me a sludgy, adolescent fury at this whole stupid country that has made it very very hard to feel like I should do even the bare minimum. For these people? AMERICANS? The ones that not only want Donald Trump to be president but saw what happened the first time and were like, We love this, do it again but worse? Whatever, fuckos. "I hope you people get your dearest wish and it chews you to death slowly," I may have thought.

I have also thought: why is it so controversial to ask elected officials to stop funding a genocide? Why are we treating people who make that ask, who are watching the current administration directly fund death on a mass scale and objecting to that choice, as if they are being babies and just need to get over it? How are they supposed to get over it? Why is anybody over it?

Anyway all this means that I, a known chipper door-knocker and caller of congresspeople, have been pretty low-key this current cycle. I think that is OK. I don't want to make this a big dramatic confessional about how I didn't write enough postcards or whatever. We all get exhausted and this was my turn.

But it has also been an illuminating cycle in that it's made it clear to me how much at my big age I still want politics to make me feel good, and when they don't, I still have the urge to throw a lil tantrum about it! I can get very superior and intellectual about how right-wing operatives manipulate their voters emotionally WITHOUT EVEN NOTICING that I too have been manipulated, in my case into the feeling that nonparticipation is a kind of revolutionary act.* Just absolute "I threw it on the GROUND" logic happening inside my head. "Maybe if I don't vote I will be doing Quiet Quitting, which is uhhhhh anticapitalist." I'm not a part of your system!!!

Anyway, I am trying to have self-compassion about it, and one way for me to do that is to project my internal experience onto a theoretical reader. That would be you, my imaginary friend who clicked on this post for some reason even though you have already decided not to vote! I just want to tell you that I am more sympathetic to your point of view than I have ever been in my whole life, and I'm sorry I have historically been a glib, holier-than-thou asshole about it in ways that may actually have made you MORE resistant to civic participation.

And you're right: it doesn't make that big a difference whether I personally vote or not, or whether you do. But if there are hundreds of us, and I think there are, then each of those people individually do starts to matter.

I guess I would humbly request that you and I both pay attention to what people who need help are actually asking for. I would ask that we both notice who wins when we abdicate this single responsibility. I would remind us both that participating in the electoral process is not some kind of weird either-or with participating in decentralized community building and mutual aid, and the best people we know do both. Isn't it interesting that somehow, insidiously, without even consciously becoming aware of this belief, we have started to think that you can only do one or the other? Who is telling us that story? Who does it serve?

Anyway. I took the stupid 90 minute round trip to my polling place which was VERY hot for some reason and I stood in the stupid line and some babies waved at me and I cast my vote for Kamala Harris and I'm glad I did it in the same way I'm glad after I do the dishes or take a stupid shower. Doing work doesn't always feel like anything. I also saw a really wonderful small black and white dog that I thought was a cat on a leash. I would not have seen that dog if I hadn't gone to vote. So politics can still make you feel good!!!

*I mean all this analysis is cute and everything BUT ALSO i did switch antidepressants twice in the last year, an astonishingly grueling process that almost made me [affect the trout population]. Could these things be related? hmmmmmmm, don't understand the question, won't respond to it.

[cyberrose2001]

HUMAN PET AU <3

Ratchet finally comes home from working all day at the med bay, the poor medic is tired as hell and just wants to relax in the comfort of his own berth. Fortunately enough, ratchet owns an exotic pet. A human he has grown fond of. They are fully trained and even have their own collar (with the message “Please return to Ratchet if lost” written on it), they have also learned how to help Ratchet de-stress by letting him use their hole as his personal flesh light <3 His happy little human loves becoming his cum dump to help him get his frustrations out, such a helpful little pet <33

any continuity of ratchet is fine (pick ur fav!), afab but gender neutral reader please and thank you moni 🙏❤️‍🩹

A Sight For Sore Optics - Human Pet AU

IDW/MTMTE Ratchet x human! afab! gn!Reader

Hi Gem! Thank you so much for your request, I was literally foaming at the mouth ready to write this. To make this more anatomically possible, Ratchet's spike transforms to a more "safer" size. So I hope this is good please be good (I haven't finished reading mtmte yet so forgive me). Also if I have missed any tags please let me know!

Warnings: Xenophilia, Size Kink, Collaring, Oral (both receiving and giving), Masturbation, Praise Kink, Cum Dumping, Mild Dubious Consent (?)

Word Count: 2.3k

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Another day, another few thousand miles of endless space, another few sickly bots. Additionally, a few unkempt humans requiring attention due to poor conditions from their previous owners. With the new organic additions to the Lost Light at the captain's approval, Ratchet had found himself biting off more than he could chew, looking after bots and humans. Oh, how he wished he took up an organic health course or something other than primarily relying on Brainstorm's fervent research on the tiny creatures. Between juggling it all, Ratchet was unsure how much more his threadbare servos could take. Still, there was one thing the old medic was unmistakable about. He was tired.

One good thing, he must admit, is that he gets to return to you. His own human pet, a personal 'Thank you' gift on behalf of the entire crew for his selflessness and hard work, provided with you a basket with fundamental necessities. But the basket had long since been used up, and he had transformed it into a makeshift cot for you. It'll do for now, he had thought.

He was initially still trying to figure out what to think of you. Apart from very rudimentary health checkups and nutritional foods, there wasn't much that Ratchet could provide for you. There's not many enriching activities for such a tiny human like yourself. Until that is, he discovered something quite unusual that had been exhibited in almost every human adopted by the crew so far.

You have an insatiable libido.

Ratchet was unsure, if not downright nervous if other owners were to discover how incredibly beneficial humans could be. Whether or not they had already learned was an entirely different story. It wouldn't surprise Ratchet if that was the very reason why human pets were approved, though it seems shocking. It all seemed so innocent enough, adopting humans for the cuteness factor for the mechs on board. But as with most things, there's always more than just the surface level of what the optic sees. And Ratchet was already way too far below the surface.

Punching in the code for his hab suite, Ratchet waits eagerly for the door to open with twitching digits. He steps inside, tossing whatever work essentials he has on hand on the first bench he sees. He'll worry about reorganising later. Right now, he needs some pet therapy and a well-overdue overload. The dull ache behind his panels only gets stronger as his pedes carry him to his berthroom to you, curled up on his berth. It looked as if you neglected your rudimentary cot, choosing to sleep on his berth instead. The medic can't help the softened expression as he melts at the sight. Of all the things he didn't think he deserved, he never once expected it to be such an adorable little thing like you.

He lets his pedes wander over to you, like countless times before, careful and delicate. He always told himself that this 'fling' he had with you was only temporary and that it was purely for his curiosity, but he tends to find himself aching for you repeatedly. He can't help how his racing neurocircuits seem to fizzle out and calm down when he lies with you.

A roughened servo brushes over your hair to slowly stir you. It looked like you had been napping for some time now, which he believes is a good thing. Brainstorm did say that humans tend to sleep better in environments they consider comfortable. The gentle brushing causes you to stir and lift your head to greet him, though in a language yet to be deciphered. It's a pleasant greeting, and Ratchet can tell they're happy to see him. Something along the lines of 'I missed you,' he'd like to think.

"Hey, squishy. I missed you too," Ratchet smiles warmly. He brushes the hair away from your neck to reveal a collar, "You haven't ripped it off yet. Seems like you like it, hm?"

A slight, sleepy nod in confirmation, you've grasped at what he said. Ratchets' digits trail down to the collar, a small silver plate that reads 'Please Return to Ratchet If Lost - HabSuite ###" engraved in Cybertronian. Not that you tend to wander off, but more or less a just in case. Plus, he gets a thrill seeing his name attached to you. He thumbs it gently, admiring his handy work.

"I'm glad you do. It took me quite some time to make," Ratchet tugs at it softly, beckoning you to come closer. He watches you climb onto his lap, "Such tiny adornments are complex to create, 'specially with hands like mine." A servo cups your back, his thumb moving to play with your soft chest. He shivers when he hears a tiny whimper from you, and you seem eager to play with him already.

"I've had a busy day," A mechanical noise of shifting gears as his spike slides out of its housing, "I think you know what I need." It's well and truly bigger than you, much bigger than your tiny body could ever take. But the way your eyes light up in excitement assures Ratchet that you are more than pleased, already desperately taking off your quirky frame coverings. He eyes off your cute organic valve, notices how dripping wet it is, and staves off a moan.

"C'mere for a second," Ratchet scoops you into his servo to bring you closer to his face. He gets a whiff of your arousal, so earthy and addicting. The more you spread your thighs for him, the more he can smell. He brings you to his intake and licks one hearty stripe up your folds.

Oh yes, he thinks. Better than energon. Better than any high grade to ever pass his dermas, like a warm drink that soothes and revitalises his senses. It thickens on his glossa, groaning at the taste as he swirls it around your little node. He watches intently as you squeal in delight, your thighs trembling around his cheeks and how your little face contorts into one of pleasure. Well, he had always presumed it was in pleasure; you've never exactly shied away from his glossa. He hums when you feel him grinding, desperate little ruts chasing the vibrations.

Ratchet licks one last time at your slick, pulling away to observe. Oral lubricants coat your valve thickly, the sensitive area reddened from his torment. His optics wander up; your soft skin is already flushed and glistening with sweat. He wonders how close you were to overloading; it wouldn't have taken much longer if he had kept going. But his spike grows restless, throbbing against his abdominal plating, begging to be touched by much softer palms than his own.

"Do you want my spike? Hm?" Ratchet teases, "My big spike?" He knows you can't fully understand him, but he can't help but vocalise his salacious fantasy. Holding onto you carefully, he lounges back onto the berth. He bites his bottom derma and lowers you to his lap, showing you his engorged spike, "Go on then, have at it. I'll frag your little brains out soon."

With an encouraging nudge from Ratchet, you straddle the shaft. To anyone else, it looks ridiculous. A tiny human desperately attempting to wrap their arms around a spike that's two times taller than they are. But to any depraved fleshy fragger, it's a sight to behold. Ratchet once thought of snapping a picture to potentially maybe sell it to the highest bidder for those who crave the feeling of such a soft body grinding on them, for he is sure there's a market out there somewhere, probably more than half of the crew onboard. Still, the shame of it all prevents him. There's an image to uphold being the resident medic.

Besides, he'd much prefer to keep you and that curious tongue all for himself.

He feels your little licks along him, a tiny tongue wiggling through the grooves and smooth surface, reaching crevices with hidden nodes that cause his pedes to curl. Soft ruts of your hips press your soaked valve right up against him. He knows what you want. The medic brings a servo to grip around his spike with you squished between, only tight enough to keep you in place as he begins self-servicing himself. He hears you letting out a surprised gasp, then a muffled moan, feeling your grip tighten around him.

"Yeah? You like that, squishy?" Ratchet moans, moving his servo slightly faster, "I bet you-nghh do. You look so cute like that. So tiny pressed against my spike."

Only a taste of your warmth is given through your body, like the little tease you are. Ratchet feels the perspiration dripping off you, likely due to the rise of his internal temperature and the energon being solely diverted to his array. It makes for a mediocre yet acceptable lubrication. He could spike you with it alone, but Ratchet prefers to use alternate practices in the interest of your health. Primus knows how careless other Cybertronians can be with their pets.

The medic is becoming increasingly aware of his overload and yours by the looks of things, your little optics squeezed shut, and your limbs clamped tight around his girth. He consciously decides to stop before you reach it. The idea of you squirming on his spike played on his processor a bit too well. He hears your soft whine at the loss of friction, which Ratchet can't help but chuckle at.

"I know, I know. I'm so mean, aren't I? Hold on, squishy." Ratchet lets you rest against his palm while his weeping spike whirs and clunks inwards to a much more manageable size for a human. His spike may be smaller, but there's not much difference in sensation. Thank Primus for the minicon-compatability modes, "You alright?"

A small squeak from you, yes. The medic watches intently as you waste no time climbing on, guided by his careful servo. You press your little valve against the tip, hissing as it barely slips through. Ratchet digs his pedes into the berth at the intense sensation, gritting his dentae as you bottom out. The feeling is incomparable to anything else; it's uniquely organic, warm, and so, so much softer than mesh.

He then wraps his entire servo around you, effectively turning you into one perfect spike sleeve only for him. Perfectly snug inside you, his grip clenches and unclenches around your torso before gently unsheathing himself from you again.

Ratchet is always careful when he uses you in this manner, ensuring his grip isn't too tight. He pushes you back down again, and he feels you melt into his servo. He hears your little whimpers and cries for him, to go faster, he believes. He learned a long ago that he doesn't need to understand your verbal mumbles when your fleshy hips try to hastefully force yourself down onto him, only halted by his own hand. His grip ever so tightens and gives in to your desperation, or more or less his own.

"You're so good for me, squishy. Hah- Lettin' me use your little valve like a toy." Ratchet mewls, his helm lolling off to the side as his optics flick between your face and the way his spike disappears inside you, "Such a helpful little pet you are."

He feels your velvet walls clamp down on him with each and every praise he gives, your little arms draped over the top of his thumb, clinging on for dear life. Every now and then, he massages your breasts pressed up against it, eliciting more dirty moans from you. Such softness that he can't help but take advantage of.

"So- ngh- tight," Ratchet vents heavily, "Primus, you've ruined me for my own race."

He felt a twinge of shame hearing himself; it was as if he had entirely let himself go. But he knows he can no longer turn back, not when you're the best little creature to ever stumble into his life. Despite him having you wrapped around his digits, it is indeed him wrapped around yours. The relief you bring to him after every gruelling shift, after every stressful day upon this damned ship, had him truly addicted.

And with an internal affirmation of decadence and with your soft little valve clenching and pulsing around his spike, he's sent right over the edge.

"Frag yes, sweetspark!-" He glitches out, pressing you down on his thick shaft as far as your soft little body can tolerate. His energon pulses deeply and shocks his entire body with an overload, shooting gush after gush of transfluids into you. His frame lurches forward, his hips driving into the berth as he milks his throbbing spike, his servo driving it deeper into you in a lust-filled daze. Your whines and cries only spur him on more, and he doesn't stop until you're shaking like a leaf in his hold.

It takes only a few more moments for a spent Ratchet to collapse back with you still in his grip, albeit slumped against his thumb. You're panting hard, and he can only just feel your tiny heart pounding against him. You must have had your own overload by the looks of it if the bliss-filled smile on your soft lips is anything to go by. His optics linger down to your soft, distended stomach and the dripping mess that splatters across your thighs and onto his pelvic plating. Now that truly is a sight for sore optics, he thinks to himself.

Ratchet huffs, bringing his other servo to pat the top of your head, "Now there's my happy little human, huh?" He smiles warmly when he feels you leaning into his touch, "How 'bout I fill you up some more?"

If this was what it took for the old medic to de-stress and relax, then so be it. If he were to be exposed to the rest of the crew, then may he join the rest of them. In secret, for now, he will proudly declare himself a lover of organic flesh.

[chestnutninny]

Get Your Girl

Hi! What about a request for Aaron Hotchner x reader where he’s been kind of seeing/dating you but is scared of making it official bc of what happened to Haley but he loves you so much so is in a battle with himself about what to do. And the rest of the team can tell how happy he is with you and they try to convince him to go for it. Angst ending with fluff.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

For the last couple of months, Aaron's usual scowl had disappeared entirely from his face and had been replaced by a smile, one that the team only saw on very rare occasions. The confusion that buzzed through the team hummed around the office, the members whispering about the sudden perk in his attitude. The case that the team had been working on has finally come to an end after a gruelling set of murders, and Aaron was fast to pack up his belongings and speed out of the building, bundling into his car.

He made his way to his apartment ready to get changed into his date attire, expecting your arrival at his front door within the next half an hour. Panic started to set in as it dawned on his that he was running really behind, not even having enough time to fasten the tie around his neck, before the doorbell wrung out through his apartment. He strode towards his front door and looked through the peephole before opening the door.

You stood on the opposite side, wringing your hands in front of you, before looking at to meet his eyes. Your figure was hugged by a short black dress that sat mid thigh, gaining Aaron's attention, which was very wanted. His eyes raked shamelessly up and down your body, his tongue darting out of his mouth to wet his lips, before returning his gaze back to your own.

"Hey. You look so gorgeous, Y/N." He smiled, his head lowering slightly as he smiled shyly, almost bashfully.

"You don't look too bad yourself." You smirked, his shyness giving you a slight surge of confidence.

He leaned against the doorframe for a few minutes longer, his eyes glancing over you over and over again, however you were starting to grow slightly impatient.

"Are you going to invite me in, or are we standing here all night?" You joked.

"Sorry...come in." He pushed the door further open, allowing you access to his home.

You had been on a few dates with Hotch, however this was the first time you had been invited to his house, with the promise of a home-cooked meal. He led you to the front room, where you took your seat on his sofa. He came over to where you were residing and set down two glasses on the coffee table, before pouring an ample amount in each glass.

You both indulged into some casual conversation whilst you waited for your food to finish. Eventually, he brought out two steaming plates stacked with huge piles of spaghetti, which you assumed Rossi gave him the recipe for. Your conversation simmered down whilst you ate your food, your slight moan echoing through the room as the taste of the food settled upon your taste buds.

"So...how's work been?" You asked, resuming your talk.

"It's been okay, pretty stressful. But what's new there?" He chuckled to himself. "Although, I've been invited to a Unit partner with the rest of the team.

"Ooh, that's exciting. Are you going to go?"

"Maybe, I'm not too sure just yet." He admitted.

"Maybe I could come with you. It'd be the perfect time to meet the team?" The idea definitely made you nervous, however you'd do pretty much anything for Aaron, and to be able to meet the people he calls family would mean the world to you.

"I don't think that'd be the best idea, Y/N." He stated bluntly, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Why not?" You were met with silence. "You haven't even told them about us, have you?"

He sat with his head down, refusing to make eye contact with you. You scoffed before reaching for you bag and jacket, making an abrupt exit from his apartment. Aaron tried to call after you, yet the door slammed over his voice.

You stormed down to the parking lot of his apartment block and slammed your car door behind you. Hot tears streamed down your face as you planted your forehead against the cool leather of your steering wheel. After a few minutes, you gathered yourself and made your way back to your own apartment, the anger boiling through your veins not subsiding in the slightest.

Back at his apartment, Aaron, couldn't help but kick himself. Why didn't he say anything? He knew that he should have opened his mouth and offered for you to come with him to meet his 'family', however after what happened to Haley, he was too afraid to expose you to the horrors of his job, his everyday places.

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Monday morning finally moped around and Aaron found himself mindlessly slipping into his suit, throwing all of his belongings into his car before driving of the work. Hid colleagues immediately sensed his foul mood, yet they all new better than to get under his skin more by asking his questions about it. That was until the team gathered around the table after hearing about a new case and Penelope Garcia strutted through the room, her floral perfume lingering behind her.

"Sir, your frown is certainly more visible than usual," she joked, looking around the room at the rest of the team.

Morgan shook his head at her, signalling for her to be quiet. Hotch sighed and buried his head in hands before abruptly standing up and excusing himself to his office. Garcia watched as he exited the room and looked back to her team before offering an apology to them all.

"I think you should be apologising to Hotch, babygirl." Derek remarked, his signature smirk taking over his features once again.

"I'll go and talk to him." JJ stated, before vacating her own seat at the round table.

Once she had reached his office, three knocks rung out from the wooden door, echoing throughout his spacious office. He waited a few moments before calling that the door was open. He straightened his back and cleared his throat as he watched JJ make her way into the room, settling down on the corner of his desk.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" She questioned after a few minutes of awkward silence.

Hotch lifted his head slightly, unspilled tears forming in the corners of his eyes. JJ forwned in confusion, but waited for him to talk. He cleared his throat and blinked a few times before speaking.

"I've been seeing this woman for a while now, but I'm too scared to make things official after Haley's death." He admitted, shaking his head at how pathetic he sounded.

"So that's why you've been so smiley lately?" She questioned, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

He chuckled at her antics before nodding his head nervously, which was very out of character for him.

"Honestly, I saw just go for it. You know the team will always have your back and we just want you to be happy. I'd love to meet her, she must be great to make you this happy, Hotch."

Aaron considered her words before agreeing with her.

"You're right. I deserve to be happy and she's the one I can see myself being happy with."

"Go and get your girl."

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

You swung your apartment door opened, the delicate petals of your favourite flowers clouding your vision. You gasped in surprise when Hotch's head poked up from behind them, a small yet nervous smile appearing on his face.

"Hey." He greeted, his teeth carefully chewing the inside of his cheek as he waited for your response.

"Hi." You responded, a bit confused.

You hadn't heard off Aaron for a few days since your incident, however you couldn't deny that it felt so good to see him again, to see him stood at your door.

"I'm really sorry, Y/N. If you'd give me a second chance, I'd love for you to come and meet my team?" He proposed, his eyes full of hope.

"Of course. But you have to tell me what's going on."

You pushed the door open more for him to enter, and you both spoke about everything whilst you got ready to go and meet his team

The rest of the night was filled with laughs, jokes and hand holding, with it fair share of drinks and delicate kisses placed upon your cheek and head.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Taglist: @borinxnovakxprentiss @chloeelou02x @moonlightjxuregui @zolofts (join my taglist here)

[ghouljams]

GHOUL pretty please may we have more simon who lavishes your tiny tits with attention and praises? this would make a girl with a lifelong insecurity very happy 😭

Yes but also you gotta stop casting judgements on your body based on the preferences of men. Literally who cares if you got small tits? And if someone does care, why are you letting some perv talk about your body?

Anyway yeah Ghost who never had a preference for anything, always picked his rations last(his partners last) because he never gave a shit what he put in his mouth, but now all he can think about is the way your tits fit under his teeth, the way he can open his jaw and suck big wet marks over your chest, the way you arch your back and it truly pushes your tits against his tongue. Yeah he loves it. Loves the way your body seems made to fit against his, the way you turn your head shyly whenever he starts talking about your breasts, talking to your breasts really. Squeezing them with his big hands and rubbing his thumbs against your nipples, cooing in that deep patronizing voice about "don't you look pretty?" whenever he manages to make your skin prickle with goosebumps.

Ghost doesnt try to smush your tits together to fuck his fat cock between them, opting instead to his slap the tip against them. Rubbing precome over each nipple and practically begging to see the way your small chest looks when he comes on it. If you ever make a disparaging remark about not having "enough" for him he grunts and grabs your tit to squeeze and knead at the soft flesh before shrugging and telling you, "'nough for me."

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 2

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1

There’s a note in Eddie’s locker. It flutters down to the dirty linoleum when he opens it to try and find his missing Biology textbook. He stares down at it, perplexed, until Jeff bends down to pick it up.

“Hey!” Eddie cries, snatching it out of his hand. “That’s mine!”

“Whatever, dude,” Jeff replies, leaning back into the closed locker beside Eddie’s and crossing his arms.

Eddie pays him no mind, too busy unfolding the note and bending over it to read.

He reads it again. And again. And again, each pass over the sign-off making his cheeks feel hotter.

It’s not like Eddie’s a stranger to getting notes in his locker, but they’re usually death threats. Or requests for drugs. Not…not this.

“What’s it say?” Jeff asks, breaking him from his shocked reverie.

“Nothing!” Eddie shrieks loudly enough that multiple heads turn to scowl at them. Eddie hastily stuffs the note into his pocket, and smiles at Jeff. “Let’s go get lunch, huh?”

Jeff squints at him suspiciously.

Eddie, in a desperate bid to distract him, starts rambling about this week’s campaign. It seems to work. By the time they’re settled in with matching shitty lunches, Jeff’s wheedling him for information on the next big bad instead of the note burning a hole in Eddie’s pocket.

It’s probably a joke, definitely a joke.

He finds himself combing the packed lunch tables anyway, looking for anything out of the ordinary, anyone paying more attention to him than usual. There’s nothing. Harrington’s letterman on a different girl, a few band geeks sitting closer together than usual, nothing else.

No one looks at him at all.

He gives it up as a bad job and forgets the note entirely until he finds a wet, pulpy mess in his pocket on his next laundry day.

A little part of Eddie mourns the only love note he’s likely ever to get, cruel prank or not.

But there’s another one there the following week. There’s an envelope this time–it’s light purple, his name written in a dark, careful black atop it.

He’s alone at his locker, no nosy friends to wheedle it out of him, but the hallway is full of other students rushing to make it to their next class, so he presses it carefully into his monster manual and bides his time.

He wants to wait until he’s in the privacy of his own home to open it. Eddie barely makes it to his van after school before he’s collapsing into the relative privacy of the windowless back and tearing through his backpack like a rabid dog.

He tries to be more careful with the envelope. But it’s sealed, and his prodding fingers tear it open in jagged lines.

That same light blue paper is nestled inside. He slips it out and unfolds it to read in the dank recesses of his parked van.

  Eddie –

  You always look so happy when you’re with your friends. I like the way your dimples always seem to peek out no matter how small your smile is. The big ones are my favorite, when you’re jumping up on the cafeteria table with all your teeth showing.

  You didn’t jump up on any tables last week. Was that because of me?

  You seemed upset after I gave you my letter. Do you even want me to write these? I don’t want to be a bother. If you do, maybe you could write back? Leave your reply in the back of the WXYZ encyclopedia, no one ever uses that one.

  If you don’t reply, then I won’t bother you anymore, okay?

  Yours, always,

  Your Secret Admirer

It could still be a joke. Eddie wouldn’t put it past some of the jocks in the school to put their girlfriends up to a long-con. Still, his heart’s fluttering like there’s a bird stuffed in there trying to get out.

It could be a joke. But Eddie’s already mentally picking out stationary and pondering word choices. There will be a letter tucked into the designated encyclopedia come tomorrow morning.

Eddie’s got a maiden to woo.

*** 

“What if he doesn’t respond?” Steve hisses in Chrissy’s ear.

She bats him away, which doesn’t seem like very good girlfriend behavior to Steve, but what does he know? He’s had exactly one real girlfriend, and she’d ditched him for another guy within the year.

“He’ll respond,” Chrissy whispers back, soothing his anxiety with a gentle pat to his shoulders.

The library’s not as empty as it was the last few times. Steve feels his heartbeat kick up every time someone looks up from their coursework and glances their way. At this rate, all his hair’s going to turn gray, ruining his best feature well before there’s even a flicker of a chance to kiss Eddie Munson on the lips.

“Why did we pick the library?” Steve asks.

Chrissy pauses in front of the bookcase holding the damning shelf of encyclopedias. She raises her eyebrow at him and asks, “what, you’d prefer the boy’s bathroom?” drolly.

“I remember when I thought you were nice,” Steve mutters quietly enough that he hopes she can’t hear him. By the way she rolls her eyes, he has no such luck.

Then, without further prompting, she bends down and pulls the WXYZ encyclopedia off the shelf. Steve’s heartbeat ratchets up as he peers over her crouched head and watches her dainty hand flip the cover open. There, tucked between the front board and the cover page, is a crisply folded piece of paper clearly ripped carelessly out of someone’s notebook.

Steve doesn’t care; he’d still open it if it was written on a used piece of toilet paper.

He reaches down past where Chrissy is still crouched to retrieve the note, but just like before, she slaps his hand back.

“Chrissy!”

She doesn’t respond, just plucks the note and slides the encyclopedia back into its place. Once standing, she links her arm with his, running soothing fingers up and down his forearm even as she pulls him along toward the back of the library.

She pushes him down into a vacant chair with deceptively strong arms; he always forgets how difficult cheerleading must be. Once he’s slumped into his own chair, she pulls the one across the table to his side and seats herself primly on it, legs crossed at her thighs.

Only then does she unfold the note and lay it gently on the table in front of him.

       Secret Admirer,

       I don’t know if this is a prank or if you genuinely like me, so I’m not really sure what to say. No one’s ever had a crush on me before, at least that I know of.  

       I didn’t know my hair was nice. My uncle keeps trying to get me to cut it. One time I brushed it and it was so poofy I wore a bandanna until I washed it again. But you probably didn’t need to know that. I’m glad you like it though.

       The paper you picked is really pretty, and I can smell the perfume you sprayed on the envelope. Fresh flowers in the spring, or a sunny day.

       –Eddie

       P.S. You can keep writing. Your notes have been the best part of my days, and I hope mine will be for you, too.

Steve reads it over and over again. Eddie’s handwriting is spiky, but carefully rendered to be readable. The post script takes a little more squinting at the page, letters and words crowding over one another like he’d added it at the last minute.

From the few classes they’ve shared, a small part of Steve was worried he wouldn’t be able to read it at all. But, no, Eddie’d taken the time to smooth out each letter, even while half convinced this was a prank. And the bit about his Uncle and his poofy hair? Adorable.

Steve brushes his fingers reverently over the words, half afraid they’ll smudge beneath his fingers. His face aches from the force of his smile.

“What should I say back?” Steve asks, looking up at Chrissy, feeling manic, hopeful, brave. Only then does he notice her carefully averted gaze, the way her body is turned just slightly away. He pushes the page toward her. “Come on, Chris, read it.”

She leans back toward him, smiling as she readjusts her body in a better position to read. “I didn’t want to presume.”

“Aren’t couples supposed to share?” Steve asks, because even when he’s happy enough to beam light straight out of his pores, he’s fundamentally a bitch.

Chrissy doesn’t respond, already too absorbed in Eddie’s words to pay him any attention, not that he can blame her. Steve waits, bursting with stupid, tender feelings until she’s read the thing through and put the page back on the table, placed perfectly between them.

“So, what should I say?” Steve asks.

Chrissy, never one to make things easy on him, starts the way she’s started every other letter-writing session so far: “What do you want to say?”

*** 

The letter her and Steve had written together is in her bag, Steve understandably too fearful to carry it himself. She’d taken it home, used her nicer stationery and a decorative envelope because, as Steve had pointed out repeatedly, Eddie’d seemed to appreciate how pretty the last letter was.

He’d sounded almost wretched when he said it, like proof that Eddie liked the pretty embellishments she’d put on his words was all he’d needed to know that his feelings would never be reciprocated.

She hadn’t known what to say.

So, she’d taken it home, gussied it up, and brought it back to the school, waiting for an opportune moment to push it through the slats of Eddie’s locker.

Steve’s been walking her to class and to lunch, playing the dutiful boyfriend up. She likes it, all this time with him.

He’s the best boyfriend she’s ever had.

Jason, his only competition for the title, has looked more and more pinch-faced every time they’ve crossed paths. She wishes, almost, that he’d yell at her, hit her, do something. It feels like waiting for a bomb to blow.

It’s not a surprise when the explosion finally hits.

“Are you serious, Chrissy?” Jason asks, and she spins, heartbeat rabbiting in her chest to find him storming toward her. And there’s a look on his face that she’s never seen before–not even when they’d broken up that first time.

His eyes are hard, mouth open like he’s one second away from shouting, and as he speaks, both his fists clench as he steps toward her. She can’t help the way she stumbles back into Steve, feeling comforted as his arm comes out to steady her.

“You replaced me with him?” and he sneers that last word, like Steve’s gum he’s scraping off his shoe.

Jason used to go on and on about Steve back in their Freshman year, before whatever the hell that had happened with Nancy Wheeler had mellowed him out. Before that, he’d been the unmitigated king. King of the keg stand, sure, but king of the court, king of the cafeteria, king of them all, and Jason had deferred to him.

But after, as Steve closed in on himself–Carol and Tommy still distant placeholders at his sides– Jason hadn’t talked about him anymore. Like he was infected now, and whatever he had might be spreading.

Chrissy'd only liked Steve more.

So, she shores herself up with the pressure of Steve’s arm on her back and points a shaking finger directly into Jason’s enraged face. “We broke up, Jason Carver,” she says, surprised when her voice doesn’t even crack. “It’s none of your business who I see.”

Jason’s mouth hangs open, clearly shocked, and a small part of Chrissy aches for how it was before. She always thought they’d be those high school sweethearts who got married right out of college. They’d just fit, or she thought they had.

He used to be nicer, sweet almost, in the way he’d talk to her.

It’d been a long time since Chrissy would classify any of the words coming out of his mouth as sweet.

Jason’s looking between them, eyes wide, something hurt leeching in past all that anger as he says, “you’ll come back,” in such quiet assurance that it makes her gut twist.

Chrissy watches him turn and walk away, stuck in the moment, until Steve squeezes her waist and asks, “are you alright, babe?”

It’s only with the word “babe” falling out of Steve’s lips that she realizes they’ve attracted an audience. So, she smiles like she’s leading a cheer for all to see, looks up into Steve’s eyes and replies, “never better.”

They continue on their way into lunch.

Once there, she eats as Steve watches Eddie’s latest table-top rant with hearts in his eyes big enough to see from the moon. Like he hadn’t given an almost identical one the week before. Steve doesn’t seem to mind. He’s transfixed, like Eddie’s a succubus and Steve’s stuck in his thrall. Until she elbows him in the side and he goes back to his lunch after shooting her a wounded look.

Boys in love are stupid creatures, and she’s willing to do whatever it takes to protect this one, even if it’s just from himself.

PART 3

[httpsdana]

heyyyyy, i love your work, please can you do where you’re pau cubarsi’s girlfriend and your a med student and take care of him after your injury xxxxx

Healing Touches~Pau Cubarsi

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

I found two requests that are basically the same so I'll just combine them. enjoy <3

request from here

master list -> part 2

players/drivers I write for

Pau laid on y/n's couch, his head resting on the armrest with a slight grimace, trying to act casual despite the fresh stitches along his jawline. The injury had happened during his last match, an unfortunate clash that had left him with ten stitches and y/n with a heart full of worry. He’d been patched up by the team doctors, but that didn’t stop her from fretting over him.

y/n sat beside him, brushing a careful hand along his uninjured cheek, studying the stitches with a concerned frown. “Does it hurt a lot, Pau?” she asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

He gave her a lopsided smile, clearly trying to look unfazed. “cariño, it’s just a few stitches. Nothing I can’t handle,” he replied, attempting to shrug off her worry.

She shot him a gentle but stern look. “Pau, it’s ten stitches across your jaw. Don’t act like this is just a scratch,” she murmured, running her fingers lightly through his hair. “You need to rest, and I’ll make sure you do.”

Pau let out a small sigh, reaching up to take her hand in his. “I know you’re studying to be a doctor and all, but I’m pretty sure the team patched me up well enough,” he teased, giving her hand a light squeeze.

She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Well, maybe they did, but I still want to take care of you. You got hurt, Pau, and that’s not something I’m just going to brush off.”

He shifted slightly, pulling her closer so she was leaning over him, a playful look glimmering in his eyes. “Fine, but only because you’re so cute when you’re in ‘doctor mode,’” he teased, his voice soft.

She rolled her eyes, unable to hold back a small smile. “Pau, I’m serious. Now, have you had any water? You need to stay hydrated for healing,” she scolded gently, reaching for the glass she'd brought him earlier.

He chuckled softly, the sound a little muffled by the stitches, and took the glass from her hand, making a show of drinking. “Happy?” he asked, giving her a little wink as he set the glass down.

“Not yet,” she replied, brushing her thumb lightly over the edge of his jaw, careful to avoid the stitches. “But we’ll get there.”

His hand reached up to cup hers, holding it against his cheek as he gazed up at her. “Thank you for taking care of me, amor. I know you’re busy with your studies and all…”

She shushed him softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss near the corner of his mouth. “You’re more important. Now, let me fuss over you, and stop trying to act like you don’t need it,” she whispered, her fingers tangling in his hair.

He grinned, a hint of mischief in his eyes despite his injury. “Guess I have no choice but to let my very cute, very smart med student girlfriend look after me,” he said, pulling her down into a warm hug, his arms wrapping around her tightly.

She relaxed into his embrace, careful to avoid his jaw but grateful to feel his warmth, his heartbeat steady beneath her cheek. It always amazed her how Pau could be so calm and lighthearted, even with stitches on his face. But she knew he was doing it mostly for her, to keep her from worrying too much.

Pau’s fingers traced gentle circles on her back, and he tilted his head slightly, looking at her with that same adoring expression. “You know, amor,” he started, a teasing tone slipping in, “if I knew getting hurt would get me this much attention from you, I’d have gotten injured ages ago.”

She pulled back slightly, playfully swatting his arm. “Pau Cubarsi, don’t you dare joke about that! You better not even think about getting hurt again. I was so worried when I saw you all bloody and in pain ” she scolded, but her voice softened as she met his gaze, the affection in his eyes making her heart flutter.

He chuckled, bringing her hand up to his lips and pressing a feather-light kiss to your fingers. “I promise, I’m kidding,” he murmured, his thumb grazing her hand. “But I have to admit… I love this side of you, so caring and worried.”

“You make it sound like I’m never caring,” she replied, pouting slightly.

“No, no,” he laughed, pulling her back into his arms. “You’re always caring. But right now, it’s like you’re my personal nurse. I kind of like it.”

She sighed, resting her head against his shoulder. “Just let me take care of you, okay?” she whispered, feeling her voice soften. “I want you to be all healed and safe. now do you need me to get you something?”

Pau pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his voice tender. “I’m already feeling better just being with you, cariño, I don't need a thing” he murmured. “It’s like you’re my medicine.”

She felt a warmth rise to her cheeks, and she couldn’t help but laugh softly. “You’re so cheesy, you know that?”

“For you? Always,” he grinned, his hand moving to stroke her cheek. “Now, doctor, what’s my next treatment? I think it might involve lots of cuddles.”

y/n rolled her eyes, laughing as she pulled him close again. “Fine, but only because you need it.” she shifted carefully, lying beside him on the couch so he could rest his head on her shoulder. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close as he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck.

“See? This is the best medicine,” he murmured, his lips pressing light kisses along her collarbone.

y/n giggled, feeling his warm breath against her skin. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around,” she reminded him, trying to keep a serious tone but failing as she felt herself melt into his embrace.

“Then just let me hold you,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “You’ve done enough, cariño. I’m okay now, really.”

She let out a sigh, relaxing in his arms, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath her fingertips. “I love you, Pau,” she whispered, voice barely audible.

He tilted his head, his eyes meeting hers with a soft, heartfelt gaze. “I love you too, amor. And thank you… for always being here. You have no idea how much it means to me.”

His words made her heart swell, and she reached up to cup his face, bringing him close enough for a gentle, lingering kiss. His lips were soft against hers, the familiar warmth filling her with a comforting peace.

When she finally pulled back, Pau’s eyes were still closed, a content smile playing on his lips. “Now, that’s what I call the perfect remedy,” he murmured, his voice a sleepy whisper.

y/n chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “Then get some rest, okay? Doctor’s orders.”

He opened one eye, giving her a playful smirk. “Only if you stay here with me, nurse.”

“Fine,” she whispered, settling into his arms and pressing one last kiss to his forehead.

She stayed close, feeling his breathing slow as he drifted into sleep, holding her tightly, as if he never wanted to let go.

[hearts4werka]

NNN day 6 | Birthday Tears

summary: today was your birthday, the day you’ve never got to actually celebrate because of some family issues. Youve now always avoided your birthday and didn’t want to celebrate it, when you were coming home from the grocery store you were met with a sweet surprise when entering the house…

warnings: FLUFF, brief mentions of family issues but aside from that nothing else!

authors note: day 6 is now complete ! Big thanks to my honey @/strnilolover for the idea and the other ideas, luv u sm💋. And tysm for all of the support throughout this whole thing, I rlly appreciate very single one of you sm. Hope y’all enjoy this one

no nut november | masterlist | guestlist

The crisp autumn air hung in the space around me as I clutched the grocery bags and carried them home, each step filled with a heavy amount of memories I wish to forget everyday. Today was my birthday-the day I’ve avoided for many years now, it’s always been a battlefield in my family and it just serves as a reminder of fractured connections and unmet expectations. Each year I have tried to wish it away, for it to vanish and forever be forgotten by everyone on earth, pretending like the specific date held no significance to my well being.

I arrive at my shared apartment with my roommate Madi and set the bags down in the kitchen counter, the delicious scent of fresh basil and ripe tomatoes filling the air as a reminder to the pasta I was planning on making for tonight’s dinner for me and Madi if she wouldn’t be staying at her boyfriends house again. Just praying I won’t burn it, like it happened the previous times. I dismiss the slight sorrow hollowing a hole in my heart at the thought of others celebrating their birthday and looking forward to it, while I was avoiding it at every cost and turn I made.

My hands moved over to the grocery bags, taking each product outside and placing them one by one in the fridge at their designated spots. Just as I turn around, my attention was immediately brought to flickering lights coming from under the door leading to the living room. Did I forget to turn off the lamp before I left? Curiosity piqued as I took a step closer, my ears picking up the soft hum of perhaps my favorite sounds. Laughter but genuine, joyful laughter. Was the TV left turned on too alongside the lamp?

I paused for a moment, my heart slightly racing as trepidation coursed through me. Maybe it was best to retreat my steps back into the comfort of my lonely routine and worry about it later but something, perhaps a whisper of longing and something I lost a long time ago, pulled me towards the room without my consent. Cautiously I creaked open the door, expecting to see the same mess of a variety of items I was going to clean up when I got back home but instead I was met with colorful confetti scattered across the floor of the room along with a chorus of “Surprise!” Which caught me completely off guard.

The confetti danced in the air as I stood at the doorframe, completely surprised but then I scanned the living room. Alongside the festive chaos was standing my boyfriend, Christopher and surprisingly my roommate Madi without the presence of her boyfriend along with some of my other friends who managed to somehow scrunch into the small space of my modest living room. My heart swelled, shocked by their presence as it was unprepared for the flood of overwhelming emotions all coming down at once.

Chris moved to stand next to me, wrapping a loving arm around my waist and pulling me closer to his side as I admire the whole surprise still. “Happy birthday, ma” He celebrated, glancing down and chuckling at how well the surprise worked on me. The warmth of his small embrace scattered across my whole body and enveloped me in a safe space I never knew I needed to feel, urging away every of the shadows that clung to my heart on this day.

“What is all this?” I stammered, continuing to try and process the sight placed in front of me. On the small coffee table landed a homemade birthday cake topped off with several candles, decorations created from paper and a pile of gifts wrapped in pretty shiny wrapping paper. “We figured you finally needed to stop avoiding your birthday, everyone deserves to celebrate their birthday after all.” Madi beamed as she stepped closer to where me and Chris were standing while Chris adds, “We couldn’t let another year go by without making it special, y’know?”

Realization washes over me, the overwhelming kindness in their gesture felt like a balm to all of the years I’ve neglected my own birthday. I didn’t expect anyone to remember, let alone plan a whole celebration surprise party in my honor. “I- thank you guys. I honestly don’t know what to say.” I finally managed to speak, my voice faltering. I suddenly felt vulnerable, emotions catching right in my throat as the memories of family disappointment flooding back. Yet, while standing among my friends, a new warmth takes me into an embrace. This was love but uncomplicated and genuine which makes a soft tear roll down my cheek.

“Well let’s get this party started now, shall we?” Chris grinned, grabbing my hand and leading me to the couch, where they had already set up laughter-filled games and a playlist of my favorite songs. The atmosphere radiated with joy, and those initial bad memories and emotions I felt faded away, replaced with surprise and joy.

As we celebrated, each laugh, each honest word, chipped away at the walls I had put up to protect myself. The clinking of glasses, the sugary taste of cake, and the joy in my friends' eyes began to stitch together the lost fragments of my broken heart. I realized I wasn’t celebrating the absence of what had been, but rather embracing the promise of what could finally be.

When the time comes to blow out the candles, I wish for something different this year. Not for the day to disappear and be forgotten, but for the future where birthdays would mean love and connection. Laughter and joy echoes through the walls of my soul, when I open my eyes I was met with smiling faces, and I knew, despite all that had been, today had changed my perspective on birthdays.

This birthday was the beginning of a newfound respect for the day I had so long tried to erase—a day I could finally acknowledge as my own, filled with sweetness, acceptance, and the warmth of friendship. Today, I felt more than just celebrated; I felt alive.

Guestlist!

| - @sturnsxplr-25 - @strnzzvsp - @luvvs4chriss - @sturniolosweetheart33 - @pussypie456 - @choclatestarfishwithahat - @venusxsturnio - @bagsbyclair0 - @sturnstvs - @dykes4chris - @hoe4matt - @cayleeuhithinknot - @strnilolover - @marrykisskilled - @phone4pills - @emely9274 - @cupiidk1lls - @lily-strnlo - @nicksgirlfriend - |

[revelboo]

Stop, we're too full of your delicious meals. We can't take anymore of it. 😫 (still have room for anything masterpiece of a fanfiction you have blessed us for today and more. 🤭) I don't think I've seen you done rodimus or not. Think you can whip him up one? 😗

I did, but also haven’t updated the Masterlist since it’s a pain on my phone. Here’s part two, though

Attractive Today Pt 2

MTMTE Rodimus x Reader

• “Nothing broken, but probably a concussion,” Ratchet grumbles, drawing back from the limp form sprawled on a Cybertronian sized exam table to lightly smack the scanner against his other palm. Like he’s thinking about hitting him with it, even though this isn���t his fault. How can he possibly know what everyone on the ship is doing all the time? Co-captain doesn’t mean watching the crew all the time to make sure no one’s doing something stupid. It shouldn’t anyway. “How many of them are there?”

• Spreading his hands in a shrug makes Ratchet’s servos tighten on the scanner. “Brainstorm was a bit vague on that part,” Rodimus says, attention dropping to the human. They’re tiny, but surely if there were more, they’d have been noticed already. He hadn’t brought up Brainstorm’s vague and oddly threatening ‘not on the ship,’ either. Because he’s not at all happy with the implications of that. “I don’t suppose you might-“

• “Absolutely not,” Ratchet cuts him off, now brandishing the scanner like a weapon. “That isn’t my problem, captain.”

“Co-captain,” he mutters, gingerly picking the human up and trying to not shudder at how disconcertingly limp it is in his hand. Megatron was supposed to be the one handling the boring, responsible stuff. Like reports and making sure stuff like this isn’t happening.

• Whirl had wanted it, but actually handing over a very small, very helpless thing to that lunatic? Almost as bad as the idea of more humans left behind on planets or ships they’d interacted with or passed too near. Or just floating out in space like horrifying, frozen markers behind the ship. That he refuses to think about. Maybe Mags will take it? He likes humans. Possibly. Striding out of the Medbay in search of Magnus, he starts running through possible alternate human sitters. Swerve?

• Head pounding, you squint your eyes open with a groan and lift a hand to touch your temple. Or try to. Your arms are pinned at your sides and whatever’s restraining you is warm, shifting slightly against you. And with dawning horror you remember that awful metal chicken-legged abomination snatching at you with those claws while the other one egged him on. Chasing you. There’s been a third one, right? Right, turning your head you stare up at the red and yellow nightmare staring down at you in surprise. “Hey,” it says, flashing a lot of big teeth in a big mouth.

• And you’re screaming again, and Primus, you have some volume. “Don’t eat me!” You wail, thumping your tiny fists against his servos like you think you can fend him off from… eating you? Well, that explains a lot of the panicked run straight into a wall. But where had you gotten the ideal that Cybertronians eat humans from? Growling under his breath, he tightens his grip as you try to squirm right out of his hand, completely oblivious to the possible fall. Fragging Whirl.

Previous

[smallestapplin]

My god I love your harem universe. Especially the Autobots and Decepticons having little piss fights over their precious human!

Now I’m just imagining poor Thundercracker and his “secret” crush on the human and how infatuated he is. Like a big love sick puppy

I can see him trying to shyly woo the human, possibly finding out where the human lives (from Skywarp cuz he couldn’t keep his mouth shut from his trine), sneaking over at night when they’re sleeping and doing something cheesy like throwing pebbles (small rocks) at their window to get their attention.

Poor guy probably fumbles and is blushing and he would just be so darn cute trying to ask the human out!!

I love thundercracker so much, thank you for this.

-

-

Thundercracker knew he shouldn't be here, he knew it well too, if the autobots won't have his head then the other decepticons would, the very thought should stop him in his tracks.

But here he stands just outside your habsuite, he's not sure what humans call it, but it looks nice, and is further away from town so he won't run into more humans, just you. Just you is all he wants, yes he's seen the footage Laserbeak caught, yes he watched it over and over and over again, imagining him as your lover.

Yet his spark yearned for something more.

You seemed so sweet, so funny, so considerate, that maybe, just maybe he'd have a chance with you, you already have s bunch of lovers, what's one more, right? He couldn't face you, but what could he give to make you know he wanted you?

Each morning when you'd awake, ready to head back to the autobot base, there would be quite the gift waiting for you.

First it was a big thing of energon, something you couldn't drink, though you've tried.

Next it was a massive geo cluster that had you in awe, you could barely manage to get it into your house, it was half the size of you! Next were some large sunflowers, root, dirt, and all on your porch.

A part of you wondered if you should ask around base, but maybe that would ruin the surprise? Or maybe it'll get them paranoid that someone else wants you, you don't feel threatened so you don't mention it.

It's not every night, but it's every other weekend, so it makes you wonder what their schedule is like.

Thundercracker can't believe himslef, he's like a sparkling all over again! When had his spark last pumped like this? The nervousness that ate away at his confidence, his anxiety rising each time he snuck away from the ship, and landed a little ways away from your habsuite, just as he's done every other weekend.

Walking as quietly as he could, making sure the groun beneath him crunched very little, he made his way up your driveway, ready to place yet another gift of flowers at your doorstep. His red optics look around, stopping when he saw the other flowers he gave you planted in your front yard.

You liked them! His wings twitch behind him, fluttering happily, he can't stop the smile forming on his face plate.

He looks at the very delicate flowers in his servos, the plants nearly as tall as the last bunch he gave you, but in reds, purples, and pinks, maybe you'd like the variety more? He hopes, he can already feel his spark racing.

Thundercracker carefully lays the flowers on your porch, making sure they are neat and out of the way so you won't step on them. He leans back eyeing his work, pleased with himself.

Your planet has many weird resources, but he's happy to have found something you liked! Normally on cybertron he would've found and gifted you shiny metals, or maybe even rare ones.

He wonders for a moment if you'd like an aerial show, and let him show off for you? Nah, that's too much, at least for right now-

"So you're the one leaving gifts for me."

You have to bite back a laugh as the giant bot jumps, flinching at the sound of your voice. His optics wide and staring at you like a deer caught in headlights. There you stand on your roof, in your sleep wear, with a tired smile.

Thundercracker tries to control himself, but little does he know he wings are giving him away, shaking as he calms himself.

"Oh..I..uhh..I didn't mean to wake ya?"

His face plate is heating up, flushing a deep blue from the energon going to his helm.

"You didn't wake me up, I was staying up in hopes to catch you. I was wondering who was leaving me these things."

Oh Primus, he made you miss a rest cycle? Frag, he feels so bad.

"Thank you."

.....huh?

You smile once more, chuckling at his baffled expression.

"Thank you for the gifts, it's very sweet of you, Thundercracker."

You wish you could take a picture with his stiff his body gets, how his wings wiggle up and down, and just how adorable such a normally intimating con could be.

You knew his name, you remembered him! That means you think of him, right? He could melt right where he stood, he could offline right now and die happy.

"Don't mention it." He carefully sits down on yout lawn, allowing his face to be more level with yours, "On Cybertron it was common practice, mostly for us seekers, to gift items like this."

"To start a courtship, I take it?"

You can't hold back laughing now, nearly wheezing at how he sputters and trips over his words trying to explain no but yes, but also-

"How did you-"

"Wild guess, but your reaction was too cute."

He's going to die, this is how it ends for him, the cute human he's taken with flirting with him.

"I wouldn't mind."

Truly you wouldn't, you know your agreement with the autobots, they all agreed to be your lovers and not fight over who else you date, but you'll have to have a talk with them about at least Thundercracker.

He seems so sweet under that gruff exterior.

Even if such a big scary con shakes under getting a few compliments.

[aropride]

ok story before bed time. everyone gather around

you are me at age 13. you are an 8th grader who just realized he likes girls and recently had a gender crisis in the home depot lighting aisle. it is november of 2016, and trump has run for president for the first time. you are watching the map change over your dad's shoulder. you aren't really sure how it works yet but you are seeing a lot of red on there and you are very frightened. you just found out you have free will, like, last year, and you are only beginning to grasp the gravity of the situation- the situation being the united states of america in general- and it already is looking very bad.

when you wake up in the morning your dad tells you trump has won. he's too happy about it. you're skipping breakfast to make the bus in time. the sun's barely risen, btw, but you are 13 so you have little to no autonomy or rights, so you are in the fluorescent-light torment-nexus they call a "middle school" by 7:45am on the dot.

you see your friend as you're walking to your homeroom. he's a fellow gay emo middle schooler, he sucks, and he really likes to guilt-trip you into skipping class to hang out with him by telling you he's going to kill himself if you don't. you have other qualms with him, but this illustrates enough. he says hi, you say hi, there is a sort of thick dread in the air despite barely anyone in the building being old enough to vote and most everyone completely baffled by the concept of the "electoral college."

he asks how you're feeling. you say bad, and he agrees.

he looks you in the eyes and puts both his hands on your shoulders. he says, "don't worry about gay marriage. they can't get rid of it."

you don't say anything; he doesn't give you a chance to.

"i ran into the senate at subway yesterday and i asked them. and they said trump can't repeal gay marriage."

you do not know much about the government. you are not quite sure what a senator is. however, you know there are one hundred of them. you also know that the only subway in your little corner of maine is very small- there's, like, three booths to sit in. only a few people can even get in line to order at a time. you were born recently but you are able to draw some conclusions here:

1) there is absolutely no way that subway could fit 100 people inside of it at all,

2) there is no reason that the entire senate would be in a little town in maine the night after the election,

and 3) this guy is making shit up again, more than anyone's ever made shit up in their life.

you say, "okay. that's good." you are aware that gay marriage is not the only thing to be worried about, here. you are aware that this guy lies recreationally and it is not worth arguing the matter.

"isn't that great?" he asks. it is not great.

you go to homeroom and you do not stand for the pledge of allegiance (you never stand for it again). you go to pre-algebra. you listen to my chemical romance instead of paying attention. you go to english class, you go to study hall, you go to lunch. you go to social studies and your teacher lets you and your other gay friend (who doesn't suck and in fact you have crush-adjacent feelings for them) sit out in the hall to talk about the election, because you asked nicely. they do not try to tell you that they ran into the entire senate at subway.

you think about this interaction several times a month through the next two election seasons. you are a 21 year old man and you are still thinking about this. you are still imagining ways the entire senate could cram themselves into this tiny subway. you regularly share this story with new friends because you just cannot stop fucking thinking about it. he ran into the entire senate at a tiny little subway in maine at 7 in the morning. and they said gay rights were safe forever.

[jweekgoji]

Hello! Your writing is amazing! Can I request a yandere Sentinel Prime with a femme reader who has an overprotective Sire? Her sire does not care about who Sentinel is and clearly does not like him and it pisses Sentinel off. Take your time!

Yandere!Sentinel Prime/Femme!Reader with an overprotective sire [hcs]

tw: yandere behavior, mentions of manipulation, jealousy, very brief violence, possesiveness. word count: ~890 a/n: for some reason, I can see Ultra Magnus being this father figure, hehe. thank you for request, Anon~ smoooooch

Your sire doesn't like Sentinel? Well, that certainly wasn't in the plans for him. He expects everyone to treat him like a royalty and look up at him, so when someone treats him differently, it kinda catches off guard.

I don't think yandere!Sentinel will go into his 'killing mode' the moment he sees an obstacle, mainly because he's sure he can take care of that in a classy way.

Sentinel is definitely that guy who really wants to make a good first impression on your sire. He might act like a really confident mech in front of you, but for some reason, he is a little nervous about the thoughts of meeting your sire.

In his mind, it really goes quickly from «oh come on, why would her father dislike me? Everyone loves me!» to «oh Primus. what if he hates me?» and that's how it repeats 24/7. Eventually, the confident Sentinel wins, but he takes a lot of time to prepare for any possible scenario. Everything should be perfect, every single smallest detail is personally checked by him, so nothing goes past.

Imagine Sentinel's expression when your sire harshly brushes it off with a «You're not good enough for my daughter and I don't want you around her. End. Of. Story» and just SLAMS the door shut into his face the moment the other bot sees him. Basically, that's where everything goes wrong. Oh, his poor ego.

Yandere Sentinel especially hates when something goes wrong and not according to his plan. He's a perfectionist, and if he spots any imperfections, it's a total disaster for him! His mood quickly changes from sweet and kind to annoyed and impulsive, so it's better to stay away from him for a good few minutes until he takes a deep breath and goes like «this is fine...everything is fine! :)» with his optic twitching and a small frown on his faceplate, which is easily noticed through his smile.

Yandere!Sentinel gets paranoid with the thought that your sire will start putting the wrong thoughts in your processor, talking trash about him behind his back, so eventually you will start to question your love for Sentinel as well. So, he decides to step in and turn the tables, planting the seeds of distrust about your parental figure. Does your father really care that much for you? Nothing is wrong with being a little protective over your own little spark, but you're no sparkling, you should build your own life!

He does it carefully, using tiny, innocent and careful remarks whenever you two are alone after another disastrous meeting with your sire.

«If your sire really wants what is best for you, why he takes your chances of happiness?»

Until he practically struck you with a head-on, «You always tell me that you love me. So you should choose. Me or him.»

Sentinel is selfish. A small part of him understands how ridiculous it is, to feel jealousy just because your mentor is present in your life. But when you start having more of those father-and-daughter times together, when your attention goes more to your sire rather than him, all rationality in his processor just disappears.

He spends half the day trying to call for you. He wants to know where the frag you are and WHY you don't pick up his calls immediately, since he needs you right here and now. As his partner, you're obligated to always be there for him, and being ignored by you...the audacity!

Sentinel walks in circles in his office, and the silence is bothering him to the insanity. One moment, he will start crying his spark out to her about it.

“After everything I have done to her..! Can you imagine that?” he looks at Airachnid for validation, his voice full of frustration. “I swear, if she calls back, I'm going to tell her everything I think of her, that—”

But the moment he sees your name popping up on the screen, he is conflicted. On the one hand, he wants to pick up immediately, on the other hand, he doesn't want to seem desperate. So he waits a few seconds until he finally decides.

Airachnid gives him almost a disappointed look as she sees her boss using that sweet voice when he talks to you. Suddenly, Sentinel is not that angry anymore, and if anything, he's relieved to finally see and hear your precious voice. He almost forgets about what he said a moment ago until you hit him with «oh, sorry Sentinel, I was with my sire all day. I can't visit you today. See you tomorrow!».

He almost snaps the device in his servo by the end of the call.

Eventually, Sentinel gets exhausted from all of it. He really tried, despite the constant disrespect from your sire. He has no remorse when he finally asks Airachnid to deal with the obstacle in his way of getting you, covering the story as an incident. The death of your sire would shatter you, but don't worry, you will heal soon enough with him by your side.

[4linos]

how they ask to marry you.

stray kids maknae line x gn!reader

synopsis: how stray kids maknae line proposes to you. (˶˃⤙˂˶)

wc: 1187. (hyung line ver.)

HAN.. jisung had always been an ideal partner; you had trouble communicating at first, but you managed to work things out. he would always prioritize you and make sure you two were happy, and he would never want to sleep knowing that either were upset. he had a good relationship with your family, they accepted him right away and treated him like their own. so, when he got the perfect engagement ring for the proposal, he went straight to your parents to ask for your hand in marriage. he asked if he could do something a little more private with just the two of you, and they instantly agreed.he would set up a little picnic with lots of flowers, a plate of treats, and of course, the ring—which he would keep hidden from you—and everything would be perfect. he would bring the ring out and pop the question as soon as you finished reading the letter he wrote to you, saying, "you make me feel like I can be myself, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you." Will you marry me?” he had been rather anxious, but in his own way, you said "yes" right away.

felix.. was a friend since childhood who held feelings for you. he had been waiting for you to come around while watching you date other people. one night, he came to you very drunk and confessed to you that he was deeply in love with you. you two spoke after his hangover, started dating and have been inseparable ever since.

felix starts off by jokingly mentioning that he is organizing something big for a mutual friend. he’d give hidden clues like, "I've been helping in organizing a truly memorable occasion for someone I care about.“ he might act really enthusiastic about it, grabbing your attention, but you would still assume it was for your friend. felix would pretend that everything is perfectly arranged for your mutual friend, making sure you are aware of every aspect of the "proposal" day. he would even ask you to help in setting up the "proposal"'s intended venue, which would be at the park. felix would go above and beyond to ensure that the everything is beautiful. felix would take you and your friend to the location where everything is happening on the day. you would be certain that the proposal would take place here after noticing details like candles, flowers, and a beautifully decorated space. Your friend may even be carrying a ring box or getting ready to say something sincere but acting a little uneasy. You would now be certain that this is for your friend because everything appears to be perfect for them. while your friend is getting ready, felix would make sure they are the center of attention. he’d nod subtly to let them to begin. all of a sudden... felix would interrupt just as your friend was about to say something. “Hold on, wait, wait! before you continue…”, and felix takes a step forward as everyone turns to watch him. he holds your hand and says, "I couldn't wait any longer," while grinning broadly at you. It is my turn to ask you this.” suddenly the candles, flowers, and romantic ambiance all made sense at once. getting down on one knee, he asks, "Will you marry me?" while pulling out the ring. you would be totally clueless. the entire time, you were oblivious that this was for you. Then, with a quiet laugh, felix would clarify, “I had to trick you into believing it was for someone else! I wanted to make sure I got the best reaction from you because you're constantly so concerned about other people's happiness” your friends would begin applauding and cheering while you were still recovering from the shock, and felix would make sure you were overcome with affection. you would experience a range of feelings, including surprise, happiness, and perhaps even a small amount of distress at not seeing it coming. but as you both enjoy the moment together, surrounded by love and friends, felix’s kind, sincere side would come through.

seungmin.. when you two started dating, it took him a while to even tell his own members. This wasn't just because he had been possessive of you; it was also because he was afraid that your relationship might be exposed to the public by accident. It took him a while to even get through to you because, even though you didn't mind his job, you expressed to him just how much you loved your job as a journalist, and he knew that you would be fired right away if anything leaked. so when the time came to finally propose to you he’d done it in a very secret way, without the knowledge of anybody else. seungmin would invite you to a quiet evening at home nothing too flashy, just a warm, cozy environment where you both can relax together, you’d walk in to see how romantic it looked, with white petals everywhere and small candles that lit up the dark space. during a quiet moment he would give you a letter that would eventually disclose his genuine intentions. It would begin with a straightforward statement like "I love you for a thousand reasons, but this is the most important one." after that, he might pen a really intimate piece on your relationship, including significant events from your past. he would finish the letter by "I would like to build our future together, share stories and create memories with you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?” after you finished reading the letter, seungmin would ask you to marry him and present you with the ring. he would add, "I can't wait to begin the next chapter with you, forever," as he planted a kiss on your lips.

I.N.. after hyunjin accidentally told you about jeongin’s huge crush on you, you were the first to make a move on him. despite being upset with hyunjin for a bit, jeongin was more than happy that you two were finally able to become the couple he had been dreaming about. they weren't shocked at all when he announced to the group that he was going to pop the question. they started helping him immediately. he followed chan’s advice and wrote a brand-new song. he was able to write a song that communicated his love for you with the help of the other members. as it builds to the last question, the song "our story" would recount the history of your relationship, emphasizing important times you've had together, both the small and the major turning points. he would express his love and want to stay with you forever in an honest and true manner using straightforward language. something created from the heart, a melody that echoes the promise of eternity, this song would seem like a personal gift. It would be performed by him after dinner, with a soft instrumental accompaniment, setting the perfect scene for a private proposal.

—

nini’s notes 110624

it’s a tough day but stay strong! 💪 it’s not over, never give up.

* here’s maknae line proposals because posting on here gives me a little at least a little stress relief 😀. not proofread ‼️ so if you find a mistake i’m sorry lol*

asks are always open if you have a question, request, or concern!

- 🎀

[petermorwood]

There is just something so amusing about this, what with the cut-glass accent and the dainty "from this position I can dislocate..."

She can, too.

Elbows in particular DO NOT LIKE being forced The Wrong Way, and go "pop" with remarkable ease. Wrists need more effort, but the wrist-bone's connected to the elbow-bone, and if one is out of service, the other is not very happy.

After which you have the undivided attention of the wrist and elbow's owner.

Keeping a tight grip on a dislocated limb and twisting it for emphasis makes the owner of the limb much more amenable to doing what they're told.

*****

Also, kicking someone while they're down is the best time to do it, if they've brought it upon themselves.

Select the target with tactical awareness, remembering that a good one to the side of the kneecap with proper follow-through - so the patella doesn't stay here but goes Over There - will reduce any risk of pursuit.

This is why wearing Sturdy Sensible Shoes is always A Good Thing. Don't kick with the toe, hack with the edge of the heel and, as mentioned, follow through. Ladies wearing high or stiletto heels can also stamp.

*****

And then there's an upward slam up under the chin, fingers extended.

In this position the middle finger is on the nose while the index and ring fingers hook in, perfectly positioned for....

As the 1949 movie "Prince of Foxes" said, "it's like popping grapes".

Chin-up also exposes a target for the edge of the other hand brought across horizontally with the intention to shift everything it hits sideways, just like that patella.

*****

People, as was said at a recent con panel ("Writing Fight Scenes" at Bristolcon 2024), are both tougher than you think but also very squishy and fragile, and movies give a ridiculous misunderstanding of one side but not the other.

In real life, any hero beaten up by the villain (Big Bad) or more likely the villain's chief henchperson (The Dragon) won't recover after a great Theme Music Power Up and win the day, but will stay beaten up if not dead.

Far better to write this sort of scene so the hero gets nibbled in what, to the reader, is a worrying way but which isn't unrealistic and THEN surges back to win the day.

After which a fit of the shakes, and a "Not happy, I've been nibbled, bits of me Hurt A Lot" response is also realistic, shows the heroism of fighting on despite All That, and allows for all sorts of sympathetic or loving stuff afterwards.

Or even - as in the video - some repairs to makeup...

[aventurineswife]

Part 2 of the last highschool au!Aventurine but make it the famous prom confession from Aventurine after trying to flirt with oblivious reader for months 🗣️ Especially when it's their final prom before graduating

“Can I have this dance?” | Part 2

Summary: On prom night, after months of subtle flirting, Aventurine finally gathers the courage to confess his feelings to you, realizing he’s been falling for you all along. Amid the soft glow of the dance floor, he admits his affection, and you finally understand the meaning behind all his teasing smiles and kind words.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, High School AU, Photography, Fluff, Slow Burn, Prom, Confession, Happy Ending.

A/N: YESSS OMGGG!!! 🤭🤭💖💖💖🫶🫶🫶

(Part 1)

The weeks flew by in a blur of exams, yearbook deadlines, and laughter shared in fleeting glances across crowded hallways. Somehow, in that whirlwind of senior year, Aventurine found himself gravitating toward you, camera in hand, searching the halls for that familiar smile that had changed something in him.

But if he was honest, his task had shifted entirely. It wasn’t just about “Moments of Joy” anymore—it was about catching you in them. And in those quiet moments, camera in hand, he’d tried everything to catch your attention beyond a quick hello or a compliment here and there, but you seemed blissfully unaware of his growing affections. Every subtle remark, every teasing smile, fell on oblivious ears, and it drove him to the edge of exasperation.

It was at the final prom of the year, under the soft glow of string lights and drifting confetti, that Aventurine decided enough was enough. The night was buzzing with the energy of finality—the last dance, the last night they’d all share as students. He’d tried to keep his usual calm demeanor, but his heart wouldn’t listen. Tonight, he’d do what he’d never done before—lay his cards on the table.

He spotted you near the edge of the dance floor, laughing with your friends, your attire catching the light with every turn, your smile as dazzling as ever. His heart sped up at the sight, but he squared his shoulders and strode over, his mind set.

"Hey, can I have this dance?" he asked, voice low, barely hiding the nervous edge beneath his confident tone.

You blinked in surprise but nodded, smiling as you took his hand. “Of course, I didn’t know you danced.”

He smirked, pulling you gently toward the floor. “I don’t. Not really. But I’d make an exception tonight.”

You both swayed together to the slow rhythm, the room fading around you, as if the two of you were the only ones there. He took a deep breath, finally ready to say what he’d been holding back all this time.

“I’ve been trying to tell you something for a while,” he began, searching for the right words. “But I don’t think you’ve quite noticed.”

You looked up at him, confused but curious. “Tell me what?”

Aventurine’s hand on your waist tightened slightly, steadying himself as he met your eyes, every practiced line he’d rehearsed over and over vanishing in the moment. “I think I… I like you. More than I’ve ever liked anyone.”

The realization dawned in your eyes, your expression softening as a hint of pink dusted your cheeks. “Wait… that’s what all those random compliments and photos were for?”

He chuckled, a little embarrassed. “Yes. Apparently, I’m not very good at this,” he admitted, laughing softly. “I was hoping you’d notice, but it seems I underestimated how… unaware you could be.”

You laughed, a sweet, gentle sound that made his heart swell. “I thought you were just being friendly, but now it all makes sense.”

There was a pause as you looked at each other, and he felt a warmth, a quiet acceptance, radiating from your gaze. The music faded in the background as he leaned a little closer, his heart pounding with both fear and excitement. “So… would you consider giving me a shot?”

You smiled, stepping a little closer, and he saw a spark of mischief in your eyes. “Only if you promise to take at least one photo with me for the yearbook.”

His confidence returned in full as he laughed, pulling you closer. “Done. But only if I get to keep a copy.”

With that, he gently brushed his lips against your cheek, sealing the promise of something new between you, something that he hadn’t anticipated—but was ready to risk everything for.