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anneangel · 28 days ago

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I still don't know how to deal with everything that's happening, but, for the fans, I wanted to digress about the conclusions I've reached so far!

I do not intend to say here what each person should do in light of the facts, I will simply explain how, in my opinion, this works FOR ME. This is only my opinion and anyone can disagree, as long as you are polite when arguing against it.

About what Good Omens means to me:

An angel and a demon who join forces to prevent the apocalypse because they believe that the Earth is worth living just the way it is.

Good Omens talks about good, evil, morality, destiny, free will and providence. It emphasizes the importance of unity in times of crisis, turmoil and chaos. It celebrates differences as something positive and is based on the idea that diversity should unite us instead of pitting us against each other. The plot proves that sometimes we find friendship, help, support and companionship in the most unlikely people. It emphasizes that “the right thing” is no longer “the right thing” if it is done for the wrong reasons and through the wrong means, showing that appearances can be deceiving and that sometimes evil disguises itself as good (and vice versa), After all, it teaches that no such as someone inherently good or bad/evil, only people who are sometimes good and sometimes bad/evil. A plot that teaches us how we should do what is best for the world and for ALL the people who live in it, even if they move heaven and all nine circles of hell against us, after all, wrong does not become right just because the majority believes it is. Good Omens is all of this together in a comical and satirical plot that states: no matter how much it seems that we are trapped by some destiny, what really moves us are our own decisions, choices and actions outlined by our free will. And if in the end everything we do or fail to do is part of some divine design or not, that is ineffable and it is not up to us to know, only to contemplate.

Good Omens, as a work, will always continue to evoke these meaningful messages for me.

What I think now that I've heard about the allegations against NG:

Now that I have discovered that one of the authors of this book is a predator and abuser who has been accused of unspeakable crimes, I am trying to deal with the shock: terrible people can produce beautiful works, they can create a story full of morals that they themselves do not possess.

About the oficial work:

I thought about getting rid of the work, but after deliberate reflection, I decided not to do so. Why?

I have noticed movements to "deny" reality or "dissociate" oneself from it.

Regarding denial, is simple: I cannot deny it. The truth is that I unfortunately bought the work of a human being who, in his private life, did horrible things. Getting rid of 'the book' and 'the show' now does not erase that reality.

Regarding dissociation, erasing the author's name from the book and "pretending" that he was not the one who wrote it, in whole or in part, is a form of dissociation, in my opinion. Erasing his name does not change the reality: he wrote something that I love very much. That is the reality, whether I like it or not.

What I can do now is reflect. So, no, I didn't throw the book away, nor did I erase his name. Want to do something useful? Just circle his name in the book and in the show and write:

"accused of sexual violence by multiple victims";

(1) How can I effectively help the victims?

(2) How do I feel about having, for a period of my life, enjoyed a work that I now know was created by someone abusive?

(3) Do I intend to acquire more of the author's stuff? If the answer is "yes", don't forget that this is a profit for him.

Yes, if you are one of the fans who removed his name, I UNDERSTAND YOU. I also want to remove his name from wherever it is stamped with a knife. However, we must remember that just "erasing" his name is not enough, erasing his name does not exempt us from continuing to actively fight so that the victims see justice and that he no longer profits with Good Omens.

I believe that having these issues is much better than simple denial (getting rid of the book and show) or dissociation (erasing his name). Because every time I open the book, or if someone else need it from me, we will be confronted with (a) the reality of the facts, (b) how we feel about it now, and (c) what we can actually do about it!

Besides, the answer to each of these questions is TOTALLY personal to each person. It's not like it would be polite to force a fan to answer these questions online.

About work made by fans and the existence of fandom:

I believe that art is plural, multifaceted and transformative, so that (even if the fandom hates the author), the art continues to live on through what fans do with it and the way they reinvent the work and their love for it, inside or outside fandom spaces. And this is not something that anyone can prevent, history has already shown that authors go/die, but the work remains and changes through what the public makes of it.

I believe that Fandom has already become aware of the facts, that they have already disowned the author, that the majority has already reached a consensus not to buy anything new or official from now on, and that the art they make as fans is theirs for other fans, just to warm the hearts of other fans, but in no way aims to promote or finance the author.

It turns out that, as a fan, I feel much more like a 'hostage' to the positive feelings I have towards the work created by a vile person. So I don't see Fanarts or FanFictions as marketing for the author, but primarily as people who, like me, used this work as escapism and have much affection for it, and now we can't get rid of that feeling.

If you believe that I'm horrible for feeling this way, I'm sorry, but the truth is that I feel this away and I can't change that now just to satisfy you.

The allegations will continue to exist, as will the fandom. That's the reality, one thing doesn't cancel out the other, whether we like it or not.

You can't just pretend, deny or dissociate, and say no about it. What we can do is continue to reflect:

This is not a matter of erasing the author and the work from existence, the things that we tend to "pretend no longer exist" always come back even worse, sooner or later. So it's not a matter of pretending that the author is "dead" and that his works "were buried with him".

Whether I like it or not, his work is in the world, will be available in the world, and will continue to live in the minds of thousands of fans around the world (whether they are in fandom online places or not), despite the author not being a "model human being" and still being alive. So,

(4) how are we going to treat the author from now on in light of the allegations?

(5) what are we going to transform his work into now? What does it mean and represent from now for the world and for ourselves as fans of this work?

For ME, this type of reflection is much more useful than intimidating fans into destroying the work and/or never talking about it again.

As for still liking content created by fans for fans (FanFictions, Fanarts, FanVideos, FanEdits, FanComics, Cosplayers, FanAnimatics, etc.), it's crazy because, yes, it's fiction, it doesn't exist, the characters aren't real. I know that.

But the feelings I have towards this fiction are real. The story isn't real, but the laughs and tears I've had towards this fiction are. The people I met on Fandom continue to be good and welcoming people. And the works made by fans for fans continue to be beautiful and continue to gain their own meaning through the creative minds of fans who reinvent the work every day.

Entering into denial or dissociation towards reality doesn't change that reality.

The reality is: Unfortunately, for a time in my life, I developed an affection for a work, characters, fandom and universe, written by a horrible person. And now I'm in a middle space of "sincere nostalgia for the work (and fandom) and what it means to me" and "deliberate contempt due to the abusive person who create it". That's the truth. There's no way I can pretend otherwise. I'm sorry if that disappoints you!

If you think that the fact that I can't "automatically turn off the love I have for the work" is a flaw. That's fine, it's your opinion, I'm not going to try to change your opinion.

But keep in mind that I'm not perfect, I've never been perfect, I'm not trying to be perfect (because no one is), and I'm not going to try to appear perfect just to get in someone's good graces.

If you think you're a perfect human and better than me, ok.

About who should we attribute to blame for everything that is happening:

As a fan of the work (Good Omens fan), I don't feel guilty for any crimes the author committed, for the simple fact that I wasn't there and didn't connive at anything. It's not the fans' fault if the author is a piece of shit in his private life.

I didn't commit any crime, I just consumed a product he created (And I consumed the work before I knew about these allegations).

I have nothing to do with what he did wrong in his private life or how he used the money that comes from his fame. What he does in his private life and with the money from his work is his problem and his conscience, he must answer in court for the allegations.

I'm pretty sure I'm not responsible for his shit and fault. I don't answer for him and his acts. No one can penalize me, and other fans in general, for the crimes committed by the author.

People trying to oppress fans of the work for something the author did doesn't make any sense. This seems to me more like a pointless offensive attitude. But attacking one or another fan doesn't change anything in the grand scheme of things.

If you want to attack someone, perhaps it would be smarter to attack the author, or the companies that still support and finance him, or the publishers that still publish him, or even the 'influencers' and the media that are making money and audiences through this situation involving the author. Many are approaching the situation in a sensationalist way and in order to generate an audience and money, only (this is happening inside and outside English-speaking countries), and that is horrible.

It's not fair that the target of hate is the fans. The fans, who didn't know anything, didn't agree with anything, aren't complicit in anything, nor colluding with anything wrong that he has done secretly in his private life. So why is the fans who are punished? This doesn't make sense and it's not fair.

The point is that whoever makes the crime must pay and be condemned for that crime. The penalty is individual, not collective. So if he did something wrong in his private life, he must answer for it individually and in proportion to the crime committed.

However, unfortunately, there are people here who are trying to screw with my psychology by trying to make me think that I am guilty of something! And that's not true. That's not right! This is cruelty!

Should fans disappear from fandom spaces out of respect for the victims?

Well. In my opinion, Fandom spaces are still a space for dialogue and dissemination of information and taking action. As bad as it may seem, it's still better that people are here arguing with each other about what they're going to do in relation to the work, the author, in relation to the allegations and the work' fandoms.

The saddest thing isn't the debate in fandom spaces, the saddest thing is not having that space.

I can tell you that there are thousands of people still buying his original and official works without even knowing about the allegations, for the simple fact that not all fans like to participate in fandom spaces, and not all you even have access to the news (especially if they are not from English-speaking countries). Therefore, being in a fandom space is still more useful than not being part of one and being oblivious.

Treating fans/fandom as an enemy does not help the cause. I've said it before, art continues, even though its authors dead: history has already shown us this. So it's not something that people can fight against, you can't stop the fandom from existing.

So instead of trying to oppress fans and demand that they leave fandom spaces (which is unlikely to happen, even if they left Tumblr we would still organize on another platform), then perhaps it would be better to advise them that, If the fandom is not going to 'die', then at least help to not let the allegations against the author remain 'in the past'. Let them keep the tag against him 'alive'. You understands?

It is helpful if you help us come up with ideas that help the cause, rather than treating us as an enemy of it.

That said, do you have any practical ideas? Any ideas on how to help fans deal with this that are better than what has been done so far? Any ideas on how to help victims more effectively?

About the work also belonging to Terry Pratchett:

Whether I like it or not, although Neil Gaiman is truly a scoundrel, he has also produced good works that have perpetuated good things in the world. And, in the specific case of this book, he is not the only author.

Good Omens was written in conjunction with Terry Pratchett, an author who gave the work as a whole the tone of satire and humor that is so characteristic of him and is, and will always be, a writing style most commonly seen in the works of Pratchett, who died in 2015 of Alzheimer's. Therefore, remember that Good Omens is not only a book of Neil Gaiman's hoax, but also the result of multiple partnerships that made it the work it is, both in the literary universe and in adaptations.

The work is ours too, but in the sense that it is we, as the audience/public, who will decide what we are going to do with it and what meaning to give it. It is our responsibility to make the right decisions and actions to help people deal with and survive this situation, supporting the victims, and also supporting each other in whatever way we can.

#Anti-Neil Gaiman (don't buy anything from him anymore).

#Justice for the victims (Donate to victims of abuse).

#The fans deserved better (we deserved the person NG pretended to be, not the person that he is).

All that said, if you've made it this far, and if you don't agree with me (in whole or in part), remember to be kind. Be kind to each other!

#good omens #cw: neil gaiman #anti neil gaiman #inefabble husbands #good omens fandom #fandom things #fandom etiquette

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coraniaid · 1 year ago

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(Answering @badwolfwho1's questions for this character ask game; three of four.)

Cordelia

5 What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them?

youtube

...yeah, this is just because of that scene in The Puppet Show, sorry. But I do think it's kind of arc-appropriate that Buffy's Shadow Self Cordelia sings a song about not wanting to live in anybody's shadow and then (eventually) leaves town.

12 What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Not exactly original to me but I think I am increasingly an ace Cordy truther.

I know there are other explanations for some of the way she’s written in Buffy and that, in the high school years in particular, the writers really don’t seem to like to suggest that any of the women on the show might have any interest in sex as such (which is probably the real reason Xander spends more time talking about how physically attractive Willow’s boyfriend Oz is than Willow herself ever manages, tempting as it is to think of that as deliberate bisexual Xander / lesbian Willow foreshadowing).

But Cordelia especially seems particularly confused (and occasionally actively repulsed) by the mere idea of sexual desire (“does looking at guns really make girls want to have sex?” she asks Xander in Innocence, while surrounded by guns herself, “That’s scary.”; “I get it!” she announces while Faith is talking to Buffy about the side-effects of Slaying, before quickly clarifying “Not the horny thing. Yuck.”) despite the show also being clear that Cordelia has definitely had sex (among other things, there’s the story she tells about “a friend, not me” who had sex in her car and “kicked the gearshift” in the health class in Bad Eggs). The general impression is, I feel, pretty striking (but, yeah, absolutely unintentional).

20 Which other character is the ideal best friend for this character, the amount of screentime they share doesn't matter?

In canon I really like Cordelia’s emergent friendship with Angel. No offense meant to the Cangel shippers, I just don’t really see the appeal of their relationship being romantic (and, for other reasons, I don't like the seasons where it's suggested that it might be, so it's not a take I'm normally exposed to much). I said in a recent post that Angel doesn’t really exist in Buffy except as Buffy’s boyfriend (sometimes Cordelia or Faith might express some interest in him, but they are very clearly only doing so because he is Buffy’s boyfriend). So it’s nice that Angel gets to be something more like a real person in his own show, and to form relationships with people that don’t have anything to do with Buffy anymore.

(I know that many people on here like to suggest that Buffy and Cordelia would have remained friends after Cordelia left Sunnydale, but canon doesn’t really support that at all and I don’t think I see it either – I think post-high school Buffy and Cordelia would both see each other as representative of an old life they’re trying to move beyond and probably not make any effort to stay in touch -- it's noteworthty that when either of them talk about each other post-Graduation Day, which almost never happens, they do so fairly dismissively.)

Beyond canon, I think Anya and Cordelia would have gotten on well and I think it’s a shame (and slightly hard to explain in any in-universe way) that they never interact after The Wish. Surely Cordelia is (from Anya’s perspective) the whole reason Anya is a human! From her perspective, she’s the first person in a thousand years whose wish she was unable to grant, and trying to do so cost her her powers. The only reason Anya can have for not being slightly obsessed about her is the fact she knows Cordelia is going to be written out of the show soon. And equally Cordelia, post-Lovers Walk, is very clearly badly in need of a friend: that's why she starts talking to and hanging out with Anya in the first place! And yet, after The Wish, nothing. Feels like a wasted opportunity.

#btvs #asks #thanks

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aromanticgarbage · 8 months ago

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h3h3 said that joji ghosted him after he got famous, ian says they don't talk anymore too. I wonder if max was the only one he was really close with or maybe they just recently reconnected.

Ok that's a tricky topic of conversation. Read more because as always i cannot shut up.

H3h3 and iddubz don't really mean anything to me outside of their old filthy frank collabs. I actually actively dislike them. Yeah you read that right. Thats why ive tried to make the fact that i am NOT running a cancer crew blog here clear. I just hate iddubz's old solo content. Seeing him beat himself up online nowadays isn't great either but by god his old stuff is so so bad (to me). Internet drama and borderline hate speech is a recipe for disaster and if he was smarter he would have seen this coming. I understand that some people like his older stuff out of nostalgia but i am not affected by this. I was not into YouTube back then. Im still not into YouTube. I only know of him and h3h3 because im obsessed with their old homie. My perspective is different, these people barely mean anything to me.

Ok now, disclaimers aside. Ethan said that joji told him not to call him filthy frank when he was talking about his music and he personally interpreted that as him being embarrassed of his past. Personally its just clear to me that what joji was asking for when he was taking his first steps as a full time music artist was space. Being known as an ex youtuber can kill someones career and considering the sort of content he was making as ff it just doesn't seem weird to me that he wanted to separate the two lol. He gave countless interviews where he mentioned his old content and that he understood why people found it so hard to move on from such an iconic character but that he didn't like conflating the two. And even then, a few years later he was encouraging fans at his concerts to chant filthy frank so i cant help but feel like Ethan's assumption that he is embarrassed and trying to forget it ever happened is baseless and biased. And after that....well. Its pretty clear to me that h3h3 used to be enjoyed by people but its had a pretty obvious dowfall since then. Idc about Ethan's drama (or the man himself for that matter) but to be completely honest i wouldn't keep in contact with him either. Idk if you are one of those people who still enjoy his podcast but to me and to many others it just seems bad. Real bad. A lot of drama and too little substance.

Now Ian...Ian is definitely less clear to me as an outside observer. I may not like ~the old iddubz~ but joji obviously didn't have a problem with him. They always seemed to get along pretty well on all the behind the scenes and going through the cake trilogy together probably means that they developed something similar to a warriors bond. He was fun on their collabs. But alas, sometimes people who used to be close just stop keeping in touch. A lot of Joji's old college friends (pookie/david, the shaman/lewys, wheelz/tyrell) are no longer in contact with him and yet they all speak of him very highly. People online like to act like he somehow ""betrays his roots"" by not keeping up with people he collaborated with on youtube back in the day but youtube isn't his roots lmao. His high school and middle school japan friends have always clearly been very important to him and he never fell out off touch with them. He is often touring alongside Rei Brown and he has mentioned in interviews that he relies on these friendships on his day to day life (admittedly the interview im talking about was from 2018 but there's no reason to assume that he has suddenly stopped talking to people that he has been friends with since he was like 12 years old). At the end of the day he doesn't owe people online to keep in contact with anyone. People grow up and change and not all relationships survive the test of time. And thats okay. Stuff happens, people move on. For what its worth tho, i feel like iddubz's drama driven channel (because lets be fair the content cops were his biggest thing and they were youtube drama no matter how self righteous or fair they seemed at the time) didn't help. The thing about joji is that he had always avoided internet drama like it was the plague, which is once again one of those things that i appreciate deeply about him. I hate internet drama. But even my kinda biased opinion aside, the reality of the situation is probably very simple. They are both grown adults who live very different lives. They hanged out together during a few summers a lot of years ago. They followed different paths in life. It happens. Joji has been very offline for years now and i get the impression that he tends to isolate himself when his health acts up so its probably not that hard to fall out of touch with him.

And last but not least....Max. I won't lie, out of the cancer crew the only other person i actually like besides my man Joji is Max. Maybe he really was closer with Max, i certainly find him more likable. Around 2018 both Joji on twitter and Max on that one cold ones podcast episode said that they still keep in touch. Max was replying to a lot of Joji's tweets up untill the nectar era but once again, at the end of the day they live in different countries. I obviously have no way of knowing if they were still as close as they used to in the following years. Maybe they grew more distant for a while, maybe they reconnected around 2023 when joji took chad and max backstage at his concert, and then of course the wedding !! Its all very sweet, the gimme love Max and Chad video from the concert lowkey made me tear up.

But once again, at the end of the day they are all living their own lives, doing their own thing. And people who act like they owe it to them to be each others everything forever and ever because they met online a decade ago and collaborated on some extremely iconic videos make me laugh.

#sorry this took me ao many days to actually answer i kept getting distracted by jojis Instagram posts #joji #ask #anon #a whole lot of yapping going on here i genuinely just cant shut up #anyway !!!! thanks fpr your question !!!!!#also pls remember that most of this is speculative thx. i don't actually know these people irl #im just basing my opinions on what they have chosen to share with the world

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generational-atrophy · 1 year ago

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Are matchups still open? If so, could you do mine?

I’m a 19 year old girl. I’m mildly introverted. According to the 16 personalities quiz, I’m an INFJ.

People often describe me as sweet and quiet. While ‘quiet’ does seem to be my default setting, I can talk your ear off when it’s about a topic I really care about. In general, I’m more talkative around people I’ve gotten to know and am comfortable around. I tend to be more mild-mannered and can have a hard time standing up for myself, but I become a lot more assertive when I feel I’m standing up for justice.

I’m quite imaginative, by the way. I can be quiet on the outside, but I have an active inner world and I often daydream stories in my head. I’d like to be a part-time writer.

By the way, I’m a ballerina. Some of my dream roles are Odette/Odile, Juliet, Giselle and Manon. (If you don’t know what those are, just ignore this!)

Other interests/hobbies/passtimes of mine include figure skating, literature (both classic and contemporary), fashion (particularly vintage and retro), listening to music (all genres), learning to play music and more. I read and write fanfiction, and I’m into fandom.

More about my personality! I try to be kind and helpful to others. I tend to give people the benefit of a doubt, which has led me to making toxic friendships in the past.

As for my flaws, I can be somewhat of a pushover when it comes to myself. I can just keep on accepting bad treatment from someone until I finally get fed up and try to ghost them (to varying levels of success). Also, I can be self-destructive.

As far as appearance goes, I have long black hair, light skin and dark blue eyes. I’ve been called pretty and cute a lot, but never hot. My best features are my big eyes and my dimpled smile (a lot of people compliment my smile! :D). I’m 162 cm tall. I have a slender hourglass build.

I would like someone I have engaging conversations with. Someone who can be both a lover and a best friend. I would like them to be able to appreciate my interests so I can talk about them with them. I would do the same for them. I don’t want someone who will be controlling or get angry at me — I wouldn’t leave but I’d be unhappy. I’m not at all a jealous person — I would fully trust my significant other. I’m open-minded, and I’d like them to be the same, or at least not be closed-minded.

I don’t mind having a partner who often takes the lead, I think I’d prefer it actually, but I don’t want to be controlled. If it matters, I’m more of a little spoon.

Ahaha, sorry for this mini essay. I won’t be upset if you ignore me.

I'd match you with... England!

Although he's definitely not sweet or soft, he'd balance you out quite well! (I think, at least.)

He gets really passionate about his own interests, so he would always be up to listen to you about yours. Especially if you're more talkative around him specifically, then he'd always encourage your ramblings <3

And if you have a hard time being assertive, he has no problem standing up for you. In fact, he loves doing so.

It may not seem like it, but he's really imaginative too! If you want someone to share a weird inner-world with, I assure you he's the man. His inner-world is probably stranger.

He's a great conversationalist too. With your love of literature, vintage fashion, and music, you'd have a lot in common to talk about and share.

He knows basically nothing about ballet, but he'd always come watch! He appreciates the finer things in life as well.

He really loves your kind nature, but he'd also be sure to not let anyone take advantage of it. He's seen that with a lot of people, and he wouldn't tolerate any behavior like that around you.

(Also, it's not important, but 162 cm is like his ideal height in a partner. Shorter than him, but not by too much (: )

And yeah, he would totally take the lead. He likes to think he's a lady's man, and he at least has the confidence of one.

He may have a temper, but he's definitely not controlling.

Although he can be a bit insecure and jealous, it's not something he can't get over. He's mature enough to learn; after all, he doesn't want to upset you.

As you two get to know each other, he'd soften, and you'd become a perfect match. Opposites attract, right?

#matchups #anon u got here right as i stopped being willing to do these congrats!#also dont feel bad for putting an essay in my inbox i think its fun

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queerian · 2 years ago

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one of the ongoing hard lessons of "idk my brain" is that once i integrate someone as Friend, nothing really removes them from that role in my mind until they do something so hurtful and relationship ending, or they explicitly tell me we are not friends anymore

so ive got that object permanence of "everyone who was once a friend is still a friend no matter how much time passes and now little contact we've had, if we have contact again i resume the friendship as we last left it"

when something bad happens to one of those friends "in cold storage" it hurts as if we're still regularly in contact

when they need something, i want to help as much as i would someone who is actively in my life. often, i try even harder to assist because probably subconsciously i am trying to make that relationship closer again.

it is frustrating trying to remind myself two things: on one hand, i tend to assume that i dont matter to them unless they explicitly tell me. i can't know what's in someone else's mind unless they tell me. on the other hand, i also forget that people's minds dont all operate the way mine does, that that they might not even understand that i'm willing to give a lot to a friendship that in someone else's mind may have lapsed. that i dont make the typical overtures to maintain a friendship but nevertheless it still has value to me.

idk. been musing on this recently thinking about people i consider friends but who dont seem to be particularly interested in reciprocating when i try to interact with them. i know from experience that most people find it weird and offputtingly insecure when i try to check in overtly and ask if we're good. which i guess is something i should be doing anyway to figure out who is only interested in being friends with a restrained highly masked to be least annoying and most appealing version of myself. but it is still scary and fucking hard to face the fact that i could be proc'ing the loss of friends and more uncertainty.

#queerian

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wtftarot · 2 years ago

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PAC: The Devil

The Devil card's energy talks about chains but more importantly about breaking them. Chains being anything that burdens us or holds us back in some way. Could be an addiction, or a shitty relationship. Could be societal conditioning or self-doubt. Who knows. . Let's fuck around and find out. It does tend to deal with some heavier shit, so be warned. I will put a lil warning at the beginning of the reading if any heavy shit shows up.

as always this reading is for entertainment purposes only and is not a substitute for professional advice in any capacity. Remember, use common sense, and don't be a dumbass.

Pick either the Firey Tail, the Pentagram, or the Grape Tail, and head to your reading.

The Firey Tail

Mmk, sweetheart. The message here is about giving too much of your time and energy towards looking for a romantic relationship. It's coming through pretty clearly but I am sensing some resistance, so I'll try to be gentle. Some of y'all may be neglecting other areas or relationships to prioritize your partner. Others are still looking for someone. The way it's being shown to me is that y'all focused on it because there's this idea that if you fall in love nothing else would matter. You'd be happy with even a rough situation if you're with someone. There's a huge fixation in media on having a romantic relationship, so there's no shame in this mentality at all. It's just not helping you, in fact, it looks like it's holding you back. With fairy-tails and romance-heavy media, we are taught from a very young age the (very heteronormative) idea that once we fall in love and get married we will live happily ever after. Which we all know isn't how life works but it can lead to this quiet belief that once we meet 'the one' everything will work out somehow. Now I'm not judging you at all, it's a common thing and we've all been there. Even if you're not actively pursuing a relationship, you may give a lot of energy to it by fantasizing about it or trying to manifest it. Love is important and you have a lot of love to give, but prioritizing romantic love over friendship love or familial love is doing yourself a disservice. There's another message for some of y'all, that you may be changing yourself to fit the ideals of your partner without realizing it and you need to set some boundaries. This message came out with the Devil card because if you picked this group it is seriously holding you back. This card is about heavy burdens and chains, not lil bad habits. It's holding you back because it's keeping you from seeing your true power. When you feel like you'd be happy if you'd meet the one it can lead to you feeling like your life is incomplete without them. You may be having trouble seeing yourself as a whole and complete person and not just as someone's love interest. Listen, sweetheart. A romantic relationship is not the whole ass cake, it's not even the icing on the cake. YOU are the whole ass cake. Your passions and shit are the icings. A romantic relationship is just one of the cherry's on top, alongside your friendship and family cherries.

random ass vibes: birthday cakes, wind through leaves, flowers, trends, pale purple, 11, libra, cherry coke, birds, cranes (the bird, not the machine),

The Pentagram

Right out the gate, I'm hearing 'use your fucking voice'. Y'all are burying your true feelings and instincts and you need to stop. It's suffocating you. If this keeps up you will start to lose yourself (if you haven't already) But that's not the main message for y'all today. The main message is that y'all may have some internal beliefs that are killing your intuition/magic. There are three camps here: Camp One - it's like you want to pursue the esoteric but deep down you're scared of it. So, even when you try, there's a part of you fighting it. Camp Two - I'm seeing that y'all may have been taught that these things are bad or evil and while you may be trying to do magic or something a part of you still holds that belief and it warps what you're doing. And Camp Three - Y'all may partly believe that intuition/magic is illogical or silly or too good to be true. Or just that you can't have what you're wanting. That doubt is stifling any sort of practice or gift you try to work with because your energy is effectively cut in half. Now, no shame to whichever camp you belong to. Most people will find themselves in one or another at some point. Hell, I've been in all of them and still revisit Camp Three sometimes. The first step towards working through these doubts and fears is admitting that they're there and not judging yourself for them. In case no one has told you ITS OKAY TO BE SCARED AND TO WANT TO BE SAFE. Fear is important, it makes you seek out ways to protect yourself and when you have a healthy relationship with it, it works as an alarm system. YOU ARE NOT A DUMBASS FOR HAVING TO UNLEARN THE SKEWED BULLSHIT YOU WERE TAUGHT. We have all been taught something that doesn't serve us and that we need to unlearn. It doesn't make you stupid or foolish. Unlearning things, and questioning what you're told is a skill that once you learn, you will have a much easier time spotting people fear-mongering. HAVING DOUBTS IS GOOD SOMETIMES, IT MAKES YOU THINK AND FIGURE OUT WHAT YOU REALLY BELIEVE. Believe it or not, this doubt when you learn to wield it properly means that you'll probably kick ass at discerning between truth and bullshit. It's also teaching you how to move forward in the face of your doubts and once you master that, dealing with other people doubting you is a piece of fucking cake. It's okay to admit to yourself that you're scared, have an internal negative belief that you need to change or have doubts about things. IT'S OK. You don't have to go around yelling it from the rooftops but you do need to acknowledge it. Doing so isn't going to magically make those things set in stone and make it so you can never do better. The opposite actually. After all, you're not going to fix something if you never look at it and think 'hey, that's messed up and needs fixing'. We're all humans, we all need to work through things. Your guides, your practice, your intuition, they're not going to judge you for taking a minute to figure things out. No one here is either. If anyone does, they have their own shit to work through.

The Devil card can talk about things we've been taught to see as evil or taboo. Like how for some reason darkness = evil, while light = goodness. Despite the fact that dark and light are both neutral and natural. Intuition and magic are neutral, but they can be used for good or bad reasons. Fire is neutral, you can use it to warm a house or burn it down. Your choice. It is important to learn fire safety though, so you don't accidentally burn it down if you get my metaphor. Now for those struggling with doubt or seeing hoping for things as being 'illogical'. I gotta ask, you know that doubt and cynicism are just as illogical as optimism, right? Both are skewed perceptions that don't allow for other perspectives. Besides, assuming things that are unexplained or esoteric is bullshit because there is no proof, is to assume that we already know EVERYTHING. And that everything can be explained and understood through our five senses. But we already know that isn't true, there are colors that only certain animals can see that humans can't and trees that communicate through their root systems. (it's called a Mycorrhizal Network, it's super interesting) The world is a weird and awesome place. Give life some wiggle room and it may just surprise you.

Random ass vibes: lemons, Johnny Cash, soups, rain, 66, squirrels, Cancer, Virgo, dipping sauces? staticy radios, cherries.

The Grape Tail

This may come as a shock to y'all but living your life the way others tell you to doesn't guarantee a happy life. I don't mean to be harsh but sweetheart, this is making you miserable. If it hasn't it will. Some of y'all may only be doing this in certain areas, others are living their whole ass life for others. The energy is stifling in this reading. Living the way others say you 'should' is what leads to having a midlife crisis. Because suddenly your life is half gone and you realize none of it was really yours. I'm seeing that some of y'all are really young (I'm talking 16-27, like YOUNG) and already feel like your life is half over??? Honey, just no? Do you consider the year half over in fucking March? Because that's where you are in your life, spring has just fucking started. Don't let the ageist media get you down, babe. Sorry for being aggressive, just the fact that y'all were made to feel this way pisses me off. Like y'all really feel like you have to live your life the way everyone else does and that if you're not meeting that time frame you're a failure. A lot of y'all are trying, maybe even succeeding in living the way you 'should' and are feeling very unsatisfied or disillusioned by it. There's nothing wrong with you for that, that's your soul saying that it wants something else. Deep down you know you don't want what you're being told you should by parents, friends, media, teachers, bosses, and partners. Maybe you don't want to settle down and have kids. Maybe you don't want to party every weekend or are not ready to have sex. Maybe you don't want to fit beauty standards or be popular on social media. Maybe you don't want to look good on a college application or climb the proverbial ladder. Etc, etc, etc. Whatever it is that you don't want, do you really think your mind will change after forcing yourself to do it for who knows how long? Not only that, you think living this way will make others happy or proud. Sweetheart, there is no award for 'most happiness sacrificed to make others proud'. There isn't. Even if there was, would you want it? To live a life that makes you happy, you will absofuckinlutly have to go against the opinion of everyone in your life at least once. Why? Because every person in your life wants/likes certain things and you can't be all of them. The people who really care about you will understand. It may be something small like music tastes but you will, you have to. And that's okay, THAT'S GOOD. Because that's you being a full person on your own, with your own opinions and wants. It's time to make your own choices, sweetheart. Make a life that is so yours it practically has your name stamped on it. When you start making choices that are your own, your spark, that light in your eyes is going to come back. It may feel like you don't know what to do at first but the more you listen to yourself the easier that will get. Don't worry about big changes right now. You can't build a fire without a small spark, work on that spark. The fire will come in time.

random ass vibes: sunflowers, rivers, 12:12, fire, Leo, Mothman, foxglove, bright colored fish, leaving an aesthetic, stargazing.

#tarot readings #tarot reading #tarot cards #tarot #divination #tarot community #pac reading #pick a card reading #pick a picture #pick a card #wtftarot #pick a pile #pick a photo #Spotify

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arty-chase · 4 years ago

Text

A Failed Betrothal /Betrothal AU: Take Two

So here is the second part of the betrothal AU that I decided to name "A Failed Betrothal. This takes place before Part 1 which in hindsight should have been done first. Part 2 got too long so I cut it and started Part 3. I have no idea and nothing planned on how long this will go. Hope you enjoy ❤.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)

PART 2

Marinette also wasn't having a good day or a good week.

Lila Rossi had been up to her usual tricks. You know, spewing lies from her mouth. How she met these awesome celebrities during this trip and they worship the ground she walks on for her amazing and humbling help. There were stories of these charities, trips and galas that she had been to or was invited to. She has problems with her wrists and can't do simple stuff like carry her own bag or do her homework. She has tinnitus in her ears so she needs to sit in the front where the only seat available would be next to Adrien.

And for the finale.

The desert after feeding the class a banquet of lies.

"Mari...nette..has been bullying me, she...told..me not to tell anyone..*sobs*..that she would kill me if I did.."

Lila dramatically gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth. Turning on the waterworks for a more dramatic effect. They all ate it up, jumping on the ‘let’s hate Marinette, a bad person’ train.

"She is going to kill me now and I am so scared." That snake managed to snuck an evil smirk past her glaring, oblivious classmates.

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Marinette, at this point of her life, had frankly given up caring for them due to the class's lack of brain cells and Agreste's spineless 'High Road' Approach.

For Kwami's sake, she went through a brutal torture that was training in some jungle temple in Asia before Sabine Cheng, former mercenary/assassin, kidnapped her (Little Marinette took a risk. She ran away and followed her around until Sabine begrudgingly accepted that she was now the 6- year-old girl's mother because screw it, Tom said he wanted children.) to raise/train as her own while she settled down with a baker whose mother may or may not have ties with the Mafia and other illegal activities.

(Mother-daughter bonding days became much more fun once she had Guardianship of the Miraculous. Sabine was ,at first, furious at Master Fu for dumping everything on the girl and losing his memories before swearing to help protect the jewels. Adopted or not, Marinette is her daughter and no one should let a child, even one with training, fight a war. A good thing to come out of her reveal was that her mother was a great tiger to have as back-up. But now, her training regime had become harder and challenging.)

The point was that Lila Rossi would be dead and body missing since that first time she threatened Marinette in the bathroom. The Italian was in perfect health despite what she claims otherwise, because Marinette didn’t want to be the person she was raised to be and also she didn’t want to disappoint Tikki, she was fond of the little red kwami. But sometimes, she just wanted to give into the urge to kill.

She had met and dealt with unsavory characters of all types and she can safely say that Lila Rossi was a manipulator that thrives on attention and like a parasite, latches herself onto the fame of others. None of the unsavory people she had met get under her skin like Rossi had.

Marinette had enough self-preservation to drop the nice girl act and sometimes let the dragon underneath to surface. She stopped doing last-minute favors and giving away free stuff which Lila uses to her full advantage to further destroy her relationships with her ‘friends’. It was better than sticking her neck out for classmates that were no longer worth her time. Attempts to expose Lila had backfired due to the denial they are in, believing the liar to be a sweet, nice girl living the high life.

Adrien with his rose-tinted glasses firmly stuck to his eyes was not happy at all with her decision. That may also have to do where she suggested he shove his advice after he tried to reason her to take the high road for defending herself for the umpteenth time. She felt like the biggest idiot to ever have a crush on him. Every time, Rossi blames Marinette for a problem, he would shoot disappointed looks in her direction.

Alya being Lila's biggest guard dog tore into Marinette for her newfound 'bad' behaviour. The rest of Lila's supporters backed her up with "How could you do that to Lila","I can't believe you changed." Nearly all her so-call friends had turned their backs and lost all common sense to the Italian's manipulations.

(Alya was supposed to be her best friend, aren’t you supposed to listen to your ‘bestie’ over a complete stranger)

The designer took it all with a bored expression on her face, used to the lecturing which was a waste of time because her behavior isn't going to change, no matter what, Lie-la will keep up the act of being the bully's (*cough*Marinette*cough*) victim.

Her heart that cracks the tiniest bit at the accusations. A small part of her, she admits, is hurt that they think so low of her.Was she really that worthless to them? All those times and efforts helping them out on last-minute favors and giving them free treats. Were they not enough to earn their friendship? Their trust or at the very least, a benefit of doubt?

The only ones who didn’t join the berating to 'correct' the raven-haired girl’s attitude were Chloe (who had proven herself to have changed after the miracle queen incident and Lila stole the spotlight and Sabrina. There were a lot of apologizes, gifts and ‘making up to do’) Alix (she came to her senses when the supposed bullying started) and Nathaniel (Lila blatantly claimed to be the artist for the Ladybug comic to his face).

“Girl, Marinette, are you even listening to me?”Alya demanded.

“Maybe. Did you say anything that doesn’t have to do with Lila or how I did her wrong or how I am no longer the person you knew?”

Marinette knew that being sarcastic would backfire but nothing she does or says will change what they think of her. One word from Lila and they will turn back on her. As much as she hates to admit it, Lila’s threat has fallen through and she was alone. Mostly.

She still had Chloe, Nathaniel, Alix, Luka and Kagami as friends. The trust-worthy and loyal kind.

“Girl,” Alya says in a disappointed tone, shaking her head,“when I look at you, I don’t see that girl who stood up to Chloe the bully-”, Chloe snorted, she had changed but they were too blind and prejudiced against her to notice her efforts, “-Picking on Lila, threatening and harassing her. This isn’t you and you know it. Just get over your jealousy on Lila being close to Adrien and apologize to her.”

If Alya had talked to her in the past 12 months other than demanding things that took away her time or anything relating to Lila, she would know that her infatuation had turned into annoyance.

Marinette sighed, too tired of this routine, tired of trying to knock heads so the brain cells can work again. Apologizing would mean that Lila had won. She was petty and stubborn enough to allow that to happen. Lila said she will take the class and Adrien. Fine, she can have them but Marinette Dupain-Cheng will not admit defeat. Bigger men had fallen to the ravenette for lesser offences. A year has passed since the expulsion and the class still hasn't regained common senses, so they can deal with the consequences after the inevitable downfall of Lila and Marinette will be there to see them lay in the grave they dug.

Steeling herself for the pain that will come with the execution of her plan,

“What if I don’t. I won’t apologize to her because I have not done anything to her or even interacted with her. If I apologize, it would be insincere and a lie. And I hate liars.” The former assassin said evenly.

“Lila is not a liar. I don’t know why you are like this.” Alya said, frustrated.

Marinette knew there would be a small chance of an akuma with Gabriel Agreste having an important meeting to attend on this day that would last for the next hour. This was the small window of opportunity to start the plan and also further confirm the identity of Hawkmoth. Killing two birds with one stone.

“Alya, this has always been me, you just never took the time to get to really know the real me.”, she replied, the last part with an icy tone.

“Well-... I- ..You-, fine, then if you can’t say those simple three words, we can’t be friends. I clearly don’t know what a selfish bitch you are. God, I can’t believe I wanted to be best friends with you. You are now replaced by Lila because unlike you, she is genuinely nice and selfless.” Alya declared. The rest of Lila’s supporters murmured in agreement.

Phase 1, complete. Lure the Lie-la into a false sense of security by making her think she won.

Marinette tried not to show how hurt she was, to be replaced by the scheming bitch. But at the same time she felt relieved, she no longer had to walk on eggshells in fear of losing the friendships of people she used to care about. It felt final as she maintained her stoic expression, hoping they didn't notice the glassy sheen her eyes had.

“Then, it is official. We are no longer friends.”

They haven’t been friends for a long time.

Mme. Bustier finally walked into the classroom to start the afternoon classes, signalling the end of the conversation. After class, Marinette resolves to inform them that she was resigning as class president which she was sure the class will be glad for. She was right.

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Ladybug was, as the Americans say, pissed at Hawkmoth which was nothing new. He had sent out another akuma just as Marinette was back home and trying to relax after the stressful day. The akuma was not any of her ex-friends which she wasn’t sure to be thankful for or not.

Louise Martin was a boy about Luka’s age and mad at his friends who had blamed their fifth loss-in-a-row on him despite the fact that it was his skills that were getting them any progress. They were playing one of those recently released 5V5 skills and strategy battle games. (League of Legends or Mobile Legends. Take your pick, I am going with the latter)

He was akumatized into Hayakuma as proof of Hawkmoth’s lack of creativity. Hayakuma was a bleached out version of Louise’s chosen hero avatar, Hayabusa whose outfit was basically what the media portrays ninjas to look like with some samurai aspects.

Unfortunately, he also had the hero’s ultimate special powers which were making four shadow copies of himself and being able to switch positions with them. Thanks to Rattlesnake’s Second Chance, they know that he can only make a switch once every two minute. Hayakuma also wields a sword, showing off his skills.

Just lovely.

Hydra and Ladybug were the only ones able to counter his attacks with Hydra’s sword and Ladybug’s summoned one. (Let’s go with that headcanon(?)/trope that she can summon weapons for plot convenience and the others can too but just don’t have enough practise yet.)

The others managed to dodge and shield themselves from Hayakuma’s really sharp sword.

The shadows themselves were annoying as they would distract or hinder the miraculous users by grabbing them by their shadows and making them unable to move. Until Bunnix had the brilliant idea of shadow boxing which gave the heroes gain more even ground.

With how strong and handful the akuma was, it was code ‘all hands on deck’. Ladybug, Stinger, Rattlesnake, Hydra, Bunnix, Trickster. Well, nearly every hand. Lady Mǔ lǎohǔ was busy with the bakery. Chat Noir was nowhere to be seen or very late which had been the norm for the last year ever since Ladybug wanted to form a new miraculous team consisting of permanent heroes.

(He didn’t show up for the first few months because the first permanent member was Ladybug’s mother who did not like his attitude towards her daughter. He ran away with his tail between his legs once he found out how she was related to Ladybug. His face when he realized it, was something Marinette will cherish forever)

At least when Lady Mǔ lǎohǔ was around, he would not dare act out of line. When she is gone however, he is back to his old ways.

After saving one of Louise’s teammates from Hayakuma’s sword, they gathered the rest of the team and hid them someplace safe. Using Trickster’s illusions to trick all the shadows and the original to one place, the heroes were going to surround and ambush them and get the akumatized item. The plan would have been a success if it weren’t for Chat Noir hugging Ladybug from behind, making her miss her cue.

“Hey~ Bugaboo~ Did you miss me~? Your Chaton~?”

Thwack! Smack!

Chat Noir was on the rooftop, groaning pitifully in pain. Especially his crotch area. Ladybug glared at him and looked to the ambush point to see the illusions had disappeared and everyone else gone from their hiding place.

She sighed and turned on the comms, (Thank you, kwamis)

“Sting, did you venomed the akuma?”

“No, he escaped before I could. What happened, LB?”

“A certain cat got me delayed. What’s the status update?”

“Hydra is holding him off and Bunnix found that an umbrella is a good substitute for a sword. The rest of us are keeping track of the shadows. They split up but none of them are getting near where we hid the targets.”

“Where are you? I will meet you later with back-up.”

“Near Notre Dame and tell Mama Tigress I said hi.”

“Tell her yourself.”

She looked down at Chat No-, no he is not worthy of being a hero anymore with the amount of times he had derailed and hijacked the plans to defeat the akumas just so he can ‘earn’ Ladybug’s heart.

She looked down at Adrien Agreste, who was sitting and sulking like a child that was unfairly punished. (Once she got over her crush and started looking at the right things that she managed to piece together her ‘partner’s’ identity by accident. Tikki’s confirmation sealed the deal.)

“Chat Noir, this partnership of ours,” she said, gesturing to the two of them, “ is going to change tonight. Meet me at the ‘spot’ at 11 sharp. Now, go home.”

He left with a small glimmer of hope in his eyes at her words. She felt a little bad about the subtle manipulation but with the way things were now, it can’t go on. He was hindering more than helping and the people of Paris that weren’t shipping ‘Ladynoir’ saw that.

As she jumped towards Notre Dame, she called the bakery with her yoyo.

“Mama, are you free now? I need a little help with the akuma and can you bring the horse miraculous.”

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Chat Noir waited excitedly at what they both dubbed at their ‘spot’, in the good old days when it was just the two of them. Maybe Ladybug was finally open to the idea of dating. Or maybe she must have seen what a great hero he is and was going to get rid of the team. Or realized that having her mother on her team was a bad idea. Parents are the worst and they both can be two rebellious teenagers in love. Like Romeo and Juliet. So romantic~.

He was so deep in his daydream that he didn’t hear his lady land.

“Chat Noir.” Startled, he nearly fell off the roof. No, don’t make a fool of yourself in front of Ladybug.

“Yes, Bugaboo.” Hoping she didn’t know that he was very distracted. His attention will always be hers 100%.

“Don’t call me Bugaboo. Tikki wants to talk to Plagg about Kwami stuff. So you go over and hide behind that chimney. Then, we can talk about why I told you to be here.” Adrien frowned and then smiled. His lady must be very embarrassed about her mistake that must be why she is taking her time. He tried listening to what they were saying but the kwamis were talking in their special Guardian Language. Was it him or did Tikki’s voice sound more like his lady’s voice?

Whizz!

Adrien was tied up with Ladybug’s yoyo. “M’Lady? Bugaboo!? LADYBUG! WHAT IS GOING ON?!! PLAGG-”

Ladybug cut in, “Adrien Agreste, you have been slack in your hero duty and choosing your own feelings over supporting your partner, me, the holder of the Ladybug Miraculous and current Grand Guardian, in the efforts to defeat the enemy of Paris, Hawkmoth. Due to those reasons, you are no longer worthy to be the Holder of the Black Cat Miraculous” in one swift motion, she took the ring off his finger, “As such you are hereby revoked of Plagg’s Ring.”

“NO, YOU CAN’T. YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME! I LOVE YOU AND I KNOW YOU LOVE ME BACK. WE ARE SOULMATES, WE ARE MEANT TO BE-”

Adrien went slack at Lady Tigress’s pinch on his pressure point.

“I don’t what you ever saw in the boy.”

“I don’t know either. I think I dodged a bullet here. Can you carry him back to his home? I think I have dealt with enough of him tonight.” Ladybug muttered, as she erased Adrien’s memories of being Chat Noir.

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Tag list: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0, @myazael, @tonicxworld, @thewitchwhowaited, @t1dwarrior-of-earth, @kissa-chan, @iwantasecretidentity, @theymakeupfairies, @user00000003, @woe-is-me0, @kashlyn, @mochegato,@moonlightstar64 , @greatcatblaze, @moongoddesskiana, @tazanna-blythe.

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(Part 3)

#maridami #maribat #damian x marinette #mlb x dc #Betrothal AU: Take 2 #A Failed Betrothal #sorry. No Damian this chapter #there is salt #Alya salt #Adrien Salt #Lila salt #class salt #I don't know if it is mild or not #Marinette is an assassin

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mbti-notes · 3 years ago

Note

INFJ. Processing past Fe failures. Want to get better at socializing / having deeper relationships/friendships. Muddling through Ti development - desiring to get better at self-awareness + communication. A lot in my brain and it'd be a lot to share the entirety of recent exchanges that have ended up in failed relationships, so I'll try asking this and hope it's enough to get critical thinking help from you, thank you much in advance. (1/2)

[con't: I notice a pattern of me trying to communicate and express myself to be understand by, or be emotionally met by Fi users, and them responding by saying things like "I don't know what you want from me", "I don't know how to help you," "I'm sorry you feel that way" or them even saying variations of "Maybe you're not used to my communication style" (ENTJ) if I express that I feel dismissed, uncomfortable, or disrespected.

This isn't ALL Fi users thank God & I'm in therapy now to address my downplaying of my emotional needs, being willing to work through anything even though the romantic relationships I'm attracting are woefully incompatible or unhealthy. But I want to get better at doing my part to increase the chance of relationships building. What am I doing/expecting/judging in my communication with Fi users so they respond that way or has me feeling being unseen/misunderstood? Is it the basic INFJ recs?]

You point to Fi specifically. Fi doesn't require outside validation, so perhaps what you're encountering is their lack of concept of outside validation, in the manner that you're seeking it with Fe.

All of those example statements sound like they could be taken sincerely. "I don't know what you want from me" could be an opportunity for you to better explain what you need/want. "I don't know how to help you" could be an opportunity for you to provide better instructions. "I'm sorry you feel that way" could be a helpless admission that the two of you don't see things the same way. "Maybe you're not used to my communication style" could be an indication that there is a need to investigate the big gap between what was perceived and what was actually intended.

Not everyone is going to see eye-to-eye with you, not everyone is going to agree with your version of events, not everyone is going to care about your needs and feelings enough to address them kindly and patiently. This should all be okay with you unless you were walking around expecting everyone out there to have the capacity to meet you emotionally or validate your emotions (unhealthy Fe)? That's simply not gonna happen, so it's an unreasonable expectation. That's why it's so important that YOU be the first to take care of yourself and own your emotions, set proper personal boundaries, and navigate interpersonal boundaries more gracefully.

If you feel someone has violated your boundary (i.e. you feel hurt by them), the answer isn't to violate theirs in return. You're trying to fix a problem in the relationship, so further damaging the relationship isn't going to help. Whether you are right to feel hurt is not the main issue. Feelings themselves are always true and tell you something true about you. However, what you DO about the feelings isn't always right. There are two main ways people deal with negative feelings: 1) bottle them up, which amounts to self-harm, or 2) express them, which opens up the possibility of doing harm to others, if they don't have the means to process your feelings. Neither way is ideal.

If your main approach is to expect people to change (when they can't or don't want to), expect them to give you more than they are capable of giving (due to not having the means or resources), expect them to understand something that they are not really capable of understanding (when they just don't think in the same way as you), etc, your expectations are easily perceived as "demands". You're essentially pressuring people to be what you want them to be, which amounts to dishonoring them and violating their boundary. This approach is usually met with submission or resistance. If they submit to you (because they care for you), they will be unhappy for having allowed you to violate their boundary, and the problem will recur because it was only swept under the rug. If they resist you, conflict ensues, and the relationship bond will be tested and possibly threatened, especially if the conflict recurs without resolution.

There is a way to honor your feelings while also honoring others' feelings. It requires you to have good emotional intelligence and be a good communicator. Good emotional intelligence means respecting your feelings and taking full responsibility for them. Instead of seeing yourself as the victim (i.e. "you made me feel this way"), you see yourself as an agent with the power to decide what is best (i.e. "I feel this way and this is what I should do about it"). Positioning yourself as a passive or helpless victim means that you cast blame and eventually demand reparations. Positioning yourself as an active and influential agent means that you survey the situation objectively and then try to act in the best interests of everyone involved. This is what healthy and confident Fe should look like.

For example, when you feel dismissed, maybe you bottle it up for awhile, until you can't take it anymore (because the problem remains unaddressed). Then you confront people and say, "I feel dismissed". This implies that the other person has done something bad to you. You are the victim, which puts them on the spot, feeling like the bad guy, and then they can't hear you, due to becoming too preoccupied with not wanting to be the bad guy. Communication is likely to stall there, unless they have the wherewithal (emotional intelligence) to keep their focus on you and your concerns.

Instead, you could say to yourself, "I feel dismissed". You take full responsibility for your feelings and validate them for yourself. When you are good at validating your own feelings and emotions (something you admit you really struggle with), you'll eventually find that you won't need to rely on others to do it for you.

What does it mean to feel dismissed? It means that you believe you're not being taken seriously, or something to that effect. Not very difficult to understand. What to do about it? The feeling of disharmony is a message to you that you have to do more to advocate for yourself and make space for yourself within the relationship/group (it is good Fe advice). There are many ways to advocate for yourself without stepping on others. If you choose the right way, in terms of honoring everyone involved, the feeling of being dismissed will dissipate naturally. If you choose the wrong way, in terms of honoring yourself but dishonoring others, you'll encounter the problem again, because you haven't addressed the underlying problem of you positioning yourself as the victim in every relationship conflict. Chronic victim mentality is often an indication that you depend too much on outside validation of your self-worth.

Unless you are stuck in a very toxic social environment, the majority of people are not malicious for no reason. Before accusing or blaming, are you absolutely certain that they INTENDED to dismiss you? If not, wouldn't it be wise to gather more info? For instance, you could ask something like, "Have you had the time to give my idea serious consideration?" No blaming, no battling, no victim-victimizer dynamic. Do you understand how communicating without blame, through genuine inquiry, avoids trapping the both of you in a vicious cycle of seeking emotional reparations? You give people the benefit of the doubt. You give people the chance to clarify or explain. You give yourself the chance to grasp the FULL picture so that you can make a more informed decision about what to do (based on their response to your question). But this presence of mind isn't possible when you can't accept your feelings/emotions and they run wild as a result.

One common misapplication of Ti is the tendency to jump to illogical conclusions or make up illogical stories about what is motivating people's negative behavior, all the while believing that you're being completely logical. It's a destructive way to deal with negative or disharmonious feelings. Once the false narrative infects your mind, you can't help but perceive the person as attacking you, even when they're not. This misuse of Ti is a major impediment to relationship building.

The problem with victim mentality is that you are hyperfocused on your perspective only, so you only have half the picture, which means making ill-informed decisions. If you are prone to Ti loop, you need to get to the bottom of why you're so quick to position yourself in the passive position of victim. A healthy relationship should be an equal partnership based on trust, which means that you should always try to 1) give people the benefit of the doubt, and 2) gather the facts of the situation before drawing a conclusion about what they intended or what kind of character they are.

If the fact of the matter is that the person really doesn't care about your feelings, then you know not to seek validation from them, and perhaps distance from them for your own good. Don't play around in toxic or abusive relationships. If the fact of the matter is that your perception of the situation doesn't match up with what they intended to say/do, then it's up to you to straighten out the situation in your mind before proceeding.

Trust your feelings, validate your feelings, but don't act blindly on them (i.e. without fully grasping what's happening with the other person). Figure out why exactly you're feeling what you're feeling, then take it up with the person in a way that addresses the root of the problem and in a way that doesn't immediately put them on the defensive. Conflict is sometimes unavoidable, but being more skilled at communicating your concerns will certainly reduce the amount of pain required to reach a resolution.

#infj #infj relationships #emotional intelligence #auxiliary fe #ti loop #communication #self worth #victim mentality #boundaries #relationships #conflict #ask

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danielxricciardo · 4 years ago

Note

for the song prompt list #38 with max please 🥺

Summary: One sided love with Max Verstappen

Warnings: angst, swearing

Word count: 2.7k

38. “You wouldn’t know love if it crushed your fucking chest.”

One-sided love is like waiting for something that is never going to happen. It is like looking into those eyes that will never look back into yours. It is like having someone in your heart but not in your arms. It is suffocating. It starts eating you from inside.

It starts from the moment you meet them. The eye contact that chills your spine, the butterflies somersaulting in your stomach, just the mere thought of them sends goosebumps all over your skin. Your eyes wander and you can't concentrate whenever they're around; despite feeling a little embarrassed for approaching them, you do so anyway and exchange numbers in the hope that at least a friendship will develop. I mean, they're cool, you're cool, you should hang out or something. Or whatever.

It becomes harder to remain nonchalant. Your moderate interest in this person turns into the non-stop checking of your phone to see if they've contacted you... absolute elation when they do, and utter, utter despair when they don't. But you keep telling yourself that it's cool, you don't even know them that well, and they probably don't even want to know you (otherwise they would be making an effort by now, right?).

They text you something vague and impersonal every once in a while, and this is enough to send your heart soaring into the sky. You respond straight away, and they don't. And as this continues, your self-esteem begins to drop, and you question everything.

Why aren't they contacting me? I expect they're just busy. Or is it me? Are three texts in a row too much? I don't wanna seem stalkerish... but I don't want to look like I don't care about them. Am I too fat? Would they prefer me if I lost weight, or had a car, or my own place? Probably. Why am I thinking about them? They'd never think about me like this.

It hurts, from the pit of your stomach to the backs of your eyes. You can't concentrate on anything. You forego activities with friends and family, to keep yourself available for this person just in case they want to meet up with you. You feel sick every day, your appetite drops, your enthusiasm for everything decreases, and you are left with the most bitter, raging emptiness you've ever felt in your whole life. And it's all your fault.

Despite the pain it causes you, you carry on quietly pursuing this person. You silently scream to yourself 'THEY'RE OUT OF MY LEAGUE! THEY WILL NEVER EVER WANT TO BE WITH ME! DON'T THINK ABOUT THEM!' but it's so overwhelming to hear yourself saying it that you try and ignore the voice of reason inside your head. Because right now, your heart is taking control, and there's nothing you can do about it.

You wish they were a part of you, that they could give you a chance, to let you be the best partner that you could possibly be. You wish you could hold them, and talk to them, and kiss them, and sleep beside them, and protect them... but you can't.

The reason you put yourself through all this pain, is a simple fact that you love this person so, so much. And even though the rational side of you is telling you to give up, a small, pathetic part of you says 'They might care about you one day...'

It hurts. Hurts real bad.

True Love doesn’t hurt. Expectations, possessiveness, insecurity, jealousy, and emotions do.

Memories don't hurt. Love doesn't hurt. It is the attachment that hurts. It is the expectation that hurts. It is the imagined future that is now broken that hurts.

Unrequited love hurts the most. You will love someone no matter what they have done to you and that someone may not love you back no matter what you do. That hurts. Those expectations hurt.

To love is always selfless and that feeling is always unconditional. Love is always unconditional. It may sting seeing him with someone else, but you will be happy for him for their happiness is more important to you when you truly love them.

When we lose someone that we love so truly and they walk out of your life for some reason, it hurts. This doesn't mean memories will haunt us. It is the collapsed future that hurts us. Living in the past with the ones we love brings us tears, not because that is lost, but because there was something that could have been forever, but it isn't now. That hurts. That stings and we tend to associate it with good memories. Sometimes we love people more than the memories they gave us. We fall for the person, not just for the memories. We love, we live life to create beautiful memories for us and the loved ones around us.

Expectations hurt in proportion to the emotional investment. Whenever we are too much attached to someone or something, we grow attachment and that attachment leads to expectations. These expectations when fulfilled are an awesome experience. But when we are too much emotionally invested and when those dreams aren't coming true, it stings and hurts and kills from within.

Getting over it is by forgiving and moving on with life accepting that you will never get over that true love. Forgiveness is your trait. It solely depends on you and not on the other person. You want to forgive them because you want peace of mind and don't want to hold grudges against anyone in your life.

Feelings and emotions are real. If you truly love a person, you will love them forever, even though they can't see you that way. That's why love is always unconditional. You love that person because you want to, not because you have that hope that someday he will love you back. If you just hope for being loved back, that's not love, to begin with, it is just some business deal. You love him because your feelings for him are real, deep, and true.

You met Max a long time ago. You were both in Formula 3 in 2014 and got along really well. You started to see each other outside of racing and after a while, you could call yourself friends. But you had feelings for him. Even before you get to know each other properly. You tried so hard to show him that you were interested in him, but nothing. Either he was oblivious or he was not interested in you. Either way, you were hurt, and that was seen in the way you competed. You lost your ambition, there were some days when you cried before the race because you didn't feel able to compete, and Max had no idea you were feeling that way because you wouldn't let him see you when you were at your lowest point.

You gave up racing and Max ended up competing in Formula 1. You weren't jealous of him, you knew you never had a chance to get there, but he deserved it, and all the hard work he put in helped him. You were with him, you encouraged him every time, on the phone, if you could not travel, or in person when he asked you to be with him.

'I need my best friend, Y/N, please. Can you come to the race on the weekend?'

And no matter how much it hurt you to hear that he considered you just his best friend, you wouldn't let your tears fall on your cheeks and tell him you'd be there for the weekend. Every time. It doesn't matter that you had something else planned, you never refused him.

"Oh my God, thank you so much for coming!" you heard Max. You look up and see your best friend coming towards you, ready to hug you. You instantly smiled. No matter how you would feel when you see him you can't help but smile.

"Of course I came. I wouldn't be anywhere else," you say and you are taken by surprise by the sincerity with which you uttered those words.

He takes you to meet some people and you were happy because he seemed well, he seemed delighted with his place there.

"Do you miss it?" you heard Daniel asking you, but you had no idea what he was talking about. "The racing," he continued as if he had read your thoughts and knew you had no idea what he was talking about.

"Oh," you shrug nonchalantly. "I mean, yeah, sometimes, but it's fine."

"Is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Clearly your mind is somewhere else. I thought it was because you were here and that brought back some racing memories, but it's different, isn't it?"

"Okay, Daniel, I appreciate the free therapy session, but I'm fine, seriously. I'm just happy to be here to encourage Max."

"Talking about me? Man, I'm feeling like a superstar," your best friend says coming between you. "I don't know about you guys but I want to get drunk."

"Are you even allowed to get drunk? It's Wednesday, don't you have press conferences tomorrow?"

"I'm in!" Daniel says and you roll your eyes. Of course he is.

Getting drunk with two boys you swear have ADHD was not a good idea.

Technically speaking, you weren't drunk, you drank a bottle of beer all night so you could take care of the two boys. Drunk Daniel was ok. He was not very agitated, he was even calmer than usual. He was sitting on the couch, laughing louder than usual, but it wasn't a cause of concern for you. Max on the other hand was a different story. Being drunk, he seemed very attracted to the balcony and that stressed you a lot. You tried to explain to him that it is dangerous on the balcony and that it is much more fun inside. You hardly convinced him.

"You're not funny at all, Y/N!"

"I'd rather know you're alive, Max."

Daniel went to bed at about 11:30 PM, but Max showed no signs of being tired. No matter how much you told him about tomorrow's busy schedule, he didn't seem to care.

You were lying on the couch, staring at the TV, and Max was on the floor, quietly for once. You wanted to ask him if he was feeling well, but he spoke before you could say something.

"Do you believe in love?"

Those five words knocked the air out of your lungs. Love? What made him ask you about love?

"Yes, I do," you answer and hope that he'll be satisfied with what you said.

"What is love anyway?"

"That depends, Max. Love is different for everybody."

"Well," he said and turns to look at you. "What is love for you?"

You sighed. What was love for you? Max. But you can't say that.

"Love is a broad term, Max. It can have different meanings for different people and can vary according to the context. At times love is synonymous with respect. At others, it is all about caring and sharing. At still others, it is a trail of concern, affection, and connection."

You didn't know you started to cry until Max kindly wiped off the tears on your face. Who would have thought that talking about love in front of the person you loved the most in this world would have made you cry? You whisper a 'thank you' to Max and get up to take a napkin from the kitchen.

"We're best friends, right?" you hear him coming towards you and he sits down on the kitchen chair.

"Sure," you answer, wiping away your tears.

"What you described. About love... I think I feel that for someone."

You heard something break and you were sure it was your heart. What you felt in that moment was what? Jealousy? This is human behavior. We, people, have the tendency to imagine ourselves with the person on whom we develop our crush. And this is totally normal, everyone does that.

Initially, it's all roses and unicorns. We start to imagine how our life would be with the other person, how we would treat them, what gifts we would give them, how we will take their pain away and how we will happily live after.

But life doesn’t work how we want it to work, does it? Then comes the second phase where we start to realize the differences between you and your crush, but still we hold on to it because in our minds that person is just too perfect to be wrong.

And then comes the thirds phase where we see our crush getting into a relationship with someone else. We even think that our crush doesn’t deserve that person, my crush deserves me! I’m better than that person. But that’s how it works, things fall apart. They break. That’s life. And at that moment, it broke your heart and you knew you want to know nothing about that other person. But you were hurt. He was drunk, yes, but you still had a crush on him, even if your feelings for him couldn't be reciprocal.

"That's... That's great, Max," you bit your lip to stop your tears from falling. "Let's go to bed."

"I think I always loved this girl but I never told her. Maybe I should," he giggles and you feel your blood boiling in your veins.

“You wouldn’t know love if it crushed your fucking chest,” you yell at him and you were sure Daniel was now wide awake. Max was watching you with wide eyes. "Stop talking about things you have no idea about," you shoot a glance at the clock. 12:25 AM. Looks like a lovely time to go for a walk in a foreign country you've never been to before. You collect your phone and wallet and march to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I need fresh air. Go to bed."

"I'm coming with you, Y/N!"

You opened the door and left, not letting Max come after you. You started to run and in front of the hotel, you stopped. Where to now? You have no idea where you are or what is near the hotel, and you desperately needed to put some distance between you and Max.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Running like that? Are you crazy?" you hear a pissed Max behind you. You tried to wipe the tears in a desperate attempt to look like you haven't been bawling your eyes out. "What happened inside?"

"Nothing, Max."

"Let's talk about it. Please."

"Talk about it? Fine. Let's do it! What should I start with? The fact that I've had a crush on you for three years or should I give you some love advice for the girl you like?"

"Say that one more time," Max said, walking towards you.

"Say what one more time?"

"You liked me for the past three years?" he was now in front of you, feeling his hot breaths on your face, and you could smell the alcohol.

"That is not relevant."

"Why not? I should know if someone has feelings for me, no? At least that's what I deserve, I think."

"Stop being so fucking cocky, Verstappen. This is not a joke," you puffed. "Forget I said a damn thing," you started to walk back into the hotel.

"Well, if I have to forget what you said that means I'm not allowed to tell you that I've liked you too for the past three years, right?"

You stoped. He said what? You were dreaming. Maybe you were the one that drank a lot. You were drunk, that's the reason why you just heard Max confessing his feelings for you. Or maybe you were both drunk.

"Max, let's go to bed. You've had a lot to drink, maybe we'll talk in the morning if you remember anything."

He came to you and hugged you from behind.

"I know what I said. Sure, I've had a few beers to drink, but I know that what I'm telling you now it's the truth."

#max verstappen oneshot #max verstappen imagine #f1 oneshot #f1 one shot #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fandom #formula 1 oneshot #formula one imagine #formula one oneshot #red bull racing

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

Text

I find myself travelling back to you // Simon Basset

Request: Could you possibly write a Simon Basset fic where maybe the reader is like a childhood friend and he bumps into them and they talk and catch up with maybe some romance or something - anon

A/N: My first Simon fic! I am a little uncertain of this as I am not sure whether I have Simon’s character down yet. I hope you all like! Thank you for requesting, I hope I have done it justice.

Pairing: Simon Basset x Fem!Reader

Warnings: childhood friends, pining, mutual pining, fluff, some angst, she/her pronouns, female reader.

Word count: 3.8k

There was not a cloud in the sky as you made your way through Mayfair after having turned down a carriage. Instead, you chose to walk away the morning, happy to feel the warmth of the sun through the layers of your dress.

The streets had started out as quiet; a few souls here and there, but they soon grew busier and busier as routines were started. Dodging bodies here and there, you found it hard to be annoyed at the crowds – the weather too perfect for your mood to be sullied.

A flash of deep red amongst the crowd has your eyes and body on alert; the sound of a deep voice has your ears pricking. “Simon?” You call out, eyebrows furrowing as you spy a familiar head of hair making their way through the crowds.

“(Y/N)?” The man in question answers, eyes wide as he takes in your form.

“It’s been so long,” You whisper, staring into his brown eyes. “I suppose I should call you ‘Your Grace’ now. I was sorry to hear of the passing of your father,” You comment softly, not overly sorry for the death of the man who had mistreated his son so poorly but offering your condolences as a form of social etiquette.

Nodding his head, Simon smiles at you. “Thank you,” He gestures to the elderly lady on his arm, “I am sure you remember Lady Danbury.”

You smile widely at the elderly lady as she grins back at you. “Of course I do,” You laugh, “We meet at least once a week to have tea.”

If possible, Simon’s eyes grow wider to the point where Lady Danbury snorts. “Really now, Simon. Did you expect us ladies to go our separate ways when you left the country?”

“Of course not,” Simon drawls, amused by the elder. “I just didn’t realise you had a close relationship.”

“Well we do. That reminds me,” Lady Danbury pipes up, “I will not be able to make our tea appointment this week, dear (Y/N). My grandson, Gareth, is visiting.”

“Of course, Lady Danbury. We can always rearrange to the following week.”

“Nonsense,” She declares, slamming her cane onto the ground, “Simon will meet with you.”

Casting your gaze to the tall gentleman, it is not hard to miss to the surprise in his eyes. Shaking your head, you state, “I am sure the Duke has more pressing issues than tea with an old friend.”

Lady Danbury opens her mouth to protest your point but is beaten by the Duke. “I have nothing so pressing that cannot be rearranged. I shall meet you tomorrow, I assume Lady Danbury knows the spot.”

With a nod of your head, Simon smiles. He reaches out, grabbing your gloved hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “Until tomorrow then,” He promises, stepping away from you with Lady Danbury in tow.

“Until tomorrow,” You whisper, watching the strong figure of your childhood friend walk away from you.

Glancing up at the still cloudless sky, you wonder how it is possible that the world keeps spinning when your own has changed so much. Simon left the country years ago, and even then, contact with the man was few and far between. He had left for school and seemingly left you behind. The very fact that he was happy to have tea with you sent shockwaves through your body; not a word for so many years and then this out of the blue.

Now glaring at the sky, you wonder whether there wasn’t a larger game afoot. One that had you reuniting with the childhood love that had left you a bereft teenager; it had you hoping you would not be left a heartbroken adult.

------

The pleasant weather was to continue, you thought to yourself as you sat down in the drawing room. Despite the calmness of the room; the sweet sound birdsong outside of your window, your stomach would not calm. Instead, it was threatening to make a mockery of your breakfast. A missive had arrived late yesterday evening from Lady Danbury explaining that Simon would indeed be calling on you for the promised tea.

Smoothing out your pale blue skirts, you wish desperately that you had brought something to keep you occupied as you wait for his imminent arrival. You curse the fact that you left your latest cross-stitch upstairs in your room, having worked on it late into the night. You could have used it to the pass the time to keep your mind busy.

“The Duke of Hastings,” The butler announces, startling you slightly, stepping aside for Simon to stride into the room.

Simon smiles widely as he spots you standing by the table; he rushes over to you, reaching for your hand, placing a lingering kiss to the back of it before straightening. “(Y/N),” He greets, breathless as if he had rushed all the way over here.

“Simon,” You answer, smiling just as widely.

Following his lead, you take a seat at the table, waiting for the tea service to be brought up.

“How is Lady Danbury?” You question, trying to fill the time for the service to arrive.

Simon laughs. “It seems she is on the warpath. Her grandson, Gareth, arrived this morning still out of sorts from the previous night.”

“No!” You gasp, “He’s barely of age!”

“That is what dear Lady Danbury was reminding poor Gareth as she swung her cane at him. I thought I better leave before her attention and her cane turned to me.”

“A good decision to have made.”

“Definitely,” Simon agrees, “As I was leaving, Gareth was promising his grandmother not to touch another drop of alcohol again though I doubt that promise will stick.”

“Poor Gareth,” You lament, thinking of the times you had been on receiving end of a lecture from Lady Danbury. “She does love him so though.”

“She does,” Simon states, “I remember his birth. It feels so long ago.”

You hum in agreement; wondering how quick time had flown by. Gareth was to be part of the next generation of society; he was to bring it into its future, especially if his grandmother had anything to say about it.

“How long have you been home?” You ask, pouring the both of you some tea now that it had arrived.

“I travelled to Clyvedon to settle things there before journeying down to London. I’ve been back in England just short of a month.”

“Oh,” You murmur, trying your best not to feel hurt that he hadn’t actively sought you out. After all, it had been years since you had last spoken. No correspondence had been exchanged throughout the duration of his travels; Lady Danbury had been the one to update you on where Simon was in the world. He hadn’t written you a single letter despite the long friendship that you still held dear. Instead, it had been an utter coincidence, a meeting in the streets that had proved to you he was still alive and breathing.

“I wanted to come see you,” Simon states, feeling bad about the broken sound that had left your mouth just now. He wasn’t one to talk so openly about his feelings, but he found himself needing to explain to you that he hadn’t stopped thinking of you since he stepped foot on English soil.

“Did you?” You question, sounding very much as if you did not believe a word leaving his mouth. By the unimpressed expression on your face, Simon knew you did not believe him.

“I did, but I got so busy. There were estates to manage, ledgers to balance and announcements to be made. By the time I landed in London, I was so thoroughly exhausted that I simply wandered to Lady Danbury’s home and fell asleep on her chaise-lounge. She wasn’t impressed.”

You snort before realising the impropriety, “I can imagine.”

Simon laughs entertained by the thought of Lady Danbury’s face when she found him snoring away on her chair. “As punishment, she made me accompany her on a walk… where we ran into you.”

“What a punishment,” You drawl.

Simon rolls his eyes at your tone. “I like to think of it as a happy coincidence.”

“Then I shall look at it in the same manner.”

There was something different about the man sitting across from you. Was it how he held his spoon? How he stirred his tea? Had the years abroad moulded him into a new person, one you could barely recognise?

Simon held himself entirely different to how he would when he was younger. His posture, perfect. His stance, brimming with confidence. It takes you aback somewhat as you take in the changes the years away at school and abroad have placed on his body.

Would your friendship still stand after so long apart? Is Simon simply placating Lady Danbury by having him meet you for tea? He talks such pretty words; can form sentences that leaves your mind in a spin, but this is the same man that had left the country without so much as a goodbye in your direction.

Reaching for your tea, you distract yourself from such intrusive thoughts. The tea clears your mind; letting you form a blank slate in your mind. “Enough talk of the past, no matter how recent,” You declare, “You left so long ago and came back a new person. It seems I need to get to know the new one.”

Simon smiles at you from his place across the table. “The same could be said for you too.”

You smile though it doesn’t reach your eyes. You don’t mention how you had spent the last few years turning down every marriage proposal offered to you due to your heart belonging to another even in its broken state. “Time is a marvellous thing,” You offer instead, grabbing a small cake from the stand.

“Indeed,” Simon murmurs, eyes following the cake from the plate to your mouth. Despite the time that had passed, his feelings had not changed. They had grown stronger instead. By now, Simon truly understood the meaning of absence making the heart grow fonder. All through his travels, he had cursed himself for not asking you to join him. Through every country, principality and dominion, Simon wondered how it would be for you to be there with him, experiencing the wonders of it all.

“Where was your favourite place to travel?” You ask, leaning forward slightly, “I’ve never travelled further than France.”

Simon nods, remembering your trip abroad with the same pang of sadness he felt back then. He knew logically that you were sat across from him, yet the longing in his body did nothing to help repress the urge to reach out for your hand across the table – to touch you so he would know that you were there, and this wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

“I think my favourite place to visit was Greece. I stayed on the mainland for a while before eventually making my way around the islands. Each island had its own charms, but there was one that had me questioning whether I could live there for the rest of my life. It was so calm, so quiet. Not even the thoughts in my head could distract me from its serenity.”

“Do you miss it?”

“The island?”

“The travelling.”

Simon sighs, staring out of the window as he thinks of over his answer. Eventually, he says, “I miss the sights and the people. I miss the smells and the food. However, I do not miss the time zones. There were moments where I didn’t know what time it was, let alone what day it was.”

“It sounds as if you had a magical time,” You sigh, trying your best not to think of Simon in the desperate heat of the Mediterranean.

“It had its moments,” Simon admits, thinking of the hours he had spent in markets, trying local delicacies and drinking traditionally made coffee. He had adored every second of his travels; he hadn’t minded the odd illness that came along with a new environment when there was so much to learn and so much to experience.

“Will you be travelling again soon?”

“It depends,” Simon answers.

“On?”

“On whether I find anything to keep me here.”

Silence falls over you both as you take in his words, trying to find the meaning of them. Taking a sip of your tea, you wonder whether your friendship with the Duke would be enough to keep him grounded at home for longer than a few weeks at a time. Your heart skips a beat at thought that you might not be enough; your feelings for the Duke had never surprised you. They had not surprised Lady Danbury when you showed up on her doorstep in floods of tears after Simon had left for the continent; she had simply welcomed you into her home with words of comfort and reassurances.

“Will you be attending Lady Danbury’s ball later this week?” You ask, needing to take your mind off that terrible evening.

Simon chuckles, placing his teacup on its saucer. “I shall be in attendance. I find it hard to turn down Lady Danbury. Will you be there?”

You nod, thinking of the dress you had made special. “I will. I’m quite excited if I’m to be honest.”

“Why is that?”

You shrug, “The theme, the music, the company. Lady Danbury never fails with her balls.”

“She does not,” Simon agrees, remembering the grandiosity of such events before he left to travel.

“So I shall see you there?” You ask, your voice hopeful as if daring to wonder whether Simon would attend before no doubt leaving the country once more.

“You shall. Would you save me a dance perhaps?” Simon asks, his usual mischief alight in his eyes.

You smile widely, “Always.”

--------

The rest of the week is spent in anticipation; desperate for the hours to quicken so you could walk through the home of Lady Danbury to find Simon already waiting for you. A hopeless dream, but a dream, nonetheless.

The Duke of Hastings remains on your mind for the rest of the week. One chance meeting and one organised tea and it seems that the man had made his home in your mind and brought to life the feelings you were certain were dormant.

With those feelings in mind, you prepare for Lady Danbury’s ball knowing full well you were about to spend the evening in the presence of Simon, but also watching the mothers of London’s available fawn over him as if he was a prize to be won. It was enough to make your blood boil.

Ridding yourself of such anger, you enter the home of Lady Danbury.

Lady Danbury never spared any expense when it came her to time to host the event of the season. She knew that it would be reported on, that it would be spoken about. She also knew that there was a chance that many matches could be made that night; so no expense could be spared in the battle for love matches among the ton.

The sight of the ballroom takes your breath away as you enter. Lady Danbury had chosen the theme of the moon, stars and sun – asking her guests to dress in colours relating to either. Your navy blue skirts swish together the further you walk into the room, distracted by the moon and star decorations hanging from the high vaulted ceilings.

You’re so enraptured by the scenery that you do not hear the footsteps approaching or the whispers of the women beside you. It isn’t until you hear him call your name that you turn your gaze from the silver decorations.

“Simon,” You greet with a smile, “How have you been?”

“Very well,” He replies, “And yourself?”

“I’m fine, thank you for asking.”

“You look wonderful,” Simon compliments; eyes raking up and down your body.

Your skin heats at his rapt attention; flashes of heat soaring through you as your mind begins to think of all sorts of scenarios where you could keep his eyes on you for much longer. “Thank you,” You answer, voice breathy, “You look very handsome too.”

“Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?” Simon asks, voice quiet in the loud room.

Nodding your head, you take his outstretched hand and allow him to lead you onto the dancefloor where many other couples are gathering.

Simon’s hand is soft on the small of your back; soft but insistent as it brings you closer to his own body. Wrapped up entirely in him, you find it hard to concentrate on the steps of the dance, easily being led around the dancefloor by the man who had captured your heart before you had even known the meaning of the word.

A large smile spreads over his face as he spins you out and brings you back. A surprised laugh leaves your lips as Simon spins you once more; the delight settling deep within your bones, melding to become a memory that would always be with you. Simon’s own laughter soons join yours and before long, neither of you are paying much attention and custom – the both of you having far too much fun in each other’s arms to be aware of the looks and glances being sent your way.

As the music fades into silence, Simon’s grip on you loosens reluctantly. He doesn’t want to let go of you; doesn’t know when the next time he can hold you this close will be. If he could, he would steal you away right now, but etiquette and his title demands he be a gentleman.

With a strained smile, Simon bows at you once before turning away without a word. So deep in his thoughts, he doesn’t see you escape to the gardens before it is too late.

------

The gardens at Lady Danbury’s home had always been spectacular, but in the night, they were even more magnificent. Despite the shadows of night, you were not scared as you walked down the paths, fingers absently brushing over the flowers of delicately blooming flora.

Rather, your mind was occupied by the one man who had returned into your life after such a sizeable absence. Simon had danced with you tonight, and every aspect felt so perfect. The way his hand covered yours; the way his palm felt pressed against the small of your back. Bringing your hand to your mouth, you hide the smile on your face as you think of the way he had laughed with you as he spun you across the floor. He had looked so young; so carefree, as if he hadn’t the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“I wondered where you had wandered off to,” A voice sounds from behind you, startling you.

“Simon!” You gasp, clutching your chest, “You scared me!”

He chuckles, holding his hands up in surrender as he steps closer to you. “That was not my intention,” He promises, his smile wide.

“What was your intention then?” You ask, an eyebrow raised in challenge.

“I wanted to ask you a question should you allow it.”

“We are alone,” You remind him, “We should move inside.”

“Please,” Simon pleads, “It won’t take long.”

You pause your steps. The cool night air settles around you as you wait for Simon to ask his question.

“Why did you never marry?” Simon demands; his eyes blazing with the need to know. “I know you had proposals; Lady Danbury even told me so.”

“There was never anyone good enough,” You confess, fisting your hands in the skirts of your dress to keep yourself from reaching out for him. “I tried. I really tried, but I always found myself thinking of you or wondering about you. Even though you never wrote, I still fell in love with you.”

Simon inhales sharply; not expecting your confession. You hadn’t expected to be so honest, but your heart was in control of your mouth; your mind taking a backseat on this one. Your heart had yearned after this man since you had learned the very definition of the word ‘love’.

“Why did you never write?” You ask, finally verbalising the question that had plagued your mind since the moment he had left.

He remains silent, so you repeat your question with a firmer voice. “Why did you never write, Simon?”

“If I had written to you, I would have come home.”

“Would that have been so bad?”

“I needed to get away, I had to leave. To do that, I had to cut strings with you, or I never would have become the man I am today. I never would have become worthy of you.”

“It is for me to decide whether you are worthy of me, Simon Basset. I have found you worthy of my love since you were ten years old and getting caught hiding a fish in the footmen’s bed if you must know.”

“For that long?” He asks; his voice a mere hoarse gasp as he battles with this new information.

“For that long,” You affirm.

“I always found myself travelling back to you,” Simon admits, “I would be in the furthest corner of the world and my mind would question why you were never by my side. On my last trip, I found myself packing my belongings with you on my mind before I had even made the decision to return home. My father was part of it, I’ll admit. But you… you were the whole reason why I returned to London.”

“What does this mean?” You ask, confused and emotional over the night’s confessions.

“It means I no longer want to travel the world if you are not by my side. It means I want to court you and follow the traditions of society. I have two loves in my life: travel and you.”

“You love me?”

He nods, “I have since I was a teenager.”

“I love you too,” You respond honestly, seeing no reason to lie in a moment like this.

“So,” Simon sighs as your words settle over him like a balm over an open wound, “Shall we do this properly? Courting and the like.”

“I think I would. I think we could start right now,” You whisper, stepping closer to the man who you felt certain was the love of your life.

“Right now?”

You nod you head, smiling widely as you reach for the lapels of his jacket. “I think we could start this very moment with a kiss. What do you think?”

Simon glances from side to side, checking for witnesses, “Only if you promise not to kiss another.”

“I don’t think that would be an issue,” You admit happily, “Kiss me, Simon.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

*******

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff @magicalxdaydream @darkestbeforethedawn16 @gryffindors-weasley

#simon basset x reader #simon basset #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #simon x reader #bridgerton imagines #simon basset fanfiction #simon basset imagines #duke hastings x reader

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skiller0dani · 4 years ago

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Sinful | Spencer Reid

M A S T E R L I S T Criminal Minds Masterlist

smut | sub!spencer x bau!reader requests info summary | when spencer decides to let the witness flirt with him, you decide to have some fun of your own with derek. it becomes obvious that it's a mistake.

this was sitting in my drafts unedited!! I'm still trying to finish up Amortentia part 2 & the Ethan AU. They'll be up I promise, until then.. enjoy Sub!Spencer! This is my first real stab at a dom reader so I hope I did okay. I've read fics about face slapping as a kink and I just wanna let you guys know that I am not comfortable writing that so I probably never will include that.

Also I hate saliva so I probably wont write about spitting either. Sorry lololol

thanks @imagining-in-the-margins for the inspiration! (was totally inspired by "messy lessons" if you guys haven't read it...you should!)

At first you doubted he knew what he was even doing.

At first.

Maybe he wasn't trying to get in her pants, and maybe he wasn't trying to lead her on. But he was still letting her shamelessly flirt with him. You'd been with the FBI for years and made the silly mistake of assuming that working in the same department as your boyfriend would make things easier on you. Being able to see him everyday is a definite plus, seeing him in danger every time you're in the field is definitely not a plus. Watching a busty blonde witness flirt with him is certainly not a plus, especially when he lets her throw herself into his chest. Supposedly "distraught" but you see the cheeky smile peeking at the corner of her lips.

You see the thing about Spencer that nobody except for you knows, is that deep down he's a very naughty boy. The little mischievous glint in his eyes when his eyes meet yours from across the interrogation room proved that. You were professional however, so you were forced to stand by and watch him comfort her. Bitch.

"C-Could you get me some water?" Her voice was shaky, you still didn't buy it.

"Sure, Doctor-"

"Agent Y/L/N if you wouldn't mind?" Spencer's much more dominating voice cut through yours. Your eyebrows flew up as you shared a millisecond stare down with him. You could see the playful look in his eyes, flashed by the brattiest smile you'd ever seen grace his lips. Your lips stretched in a tight smile before you nodded and turned out of the room.

When JJ joined you near the kitchenette she opened her mouth to say something, but once she'd noticed you white knuckle gripping the faucet handle she changed her mind. She continued with whatever she was doing, not looking at you. It was a tense few minutes until she turned out of the room. While everyone in the BAU knew you and Spencer were together, it was easy for them to forget seeing as you never acted as a couple at work. For obvious reasons. Only in moments of danger, like when Spencer's helicopter went down and there were panicked tears streaming down your cheeks did they remember that you were in fact, together.

Apparently your usually good boy seems to have forgotten who he belongs to as well. The sight you returned to left tendrils of anger licking at the pit of your stomach.

"Oh really, that is so cool! I'll bet you're so strong!" The witness had perked up considerably since you'd left the room. Her hand reached up to curl at his bicep, and he didn't stop her. What a brat. Spencer sat next to her rather than across from her at the table, presumably to console her. Spencer beamed at her praise, an action you did not miss.

"Yeah, actually FBI agents are required to pass a variety of physical exams to insure they're physically healthy enough to chase down an unsub if need be-"

"Here's your water." Your voice was tense and you had to resist the urge to "accidentally" spill the water on her as you set the glass down. You didn't meet Spencer's eye as he stood to follow you out of the room. You could see the naughty façade fading as soon as he'd left the room.

"Y/N?" His voice was soft and his big brown eyes wide when you turned to glance at him. Your heart melted at the sight of those sad puppy dog eyes but you're not going to give in when baby boy broke so many rules.

"Shush." Is all you say, your voice sharp. You're not going to hide the fact that you're mad at him. And you're going to stay mad at him, no matter how cute he is.

"Yes ma'am." Spencer mumbles as he follows you towards the room Hotch is waiting in with the whiteboard. You try your hardest to focus on whatever Hotch is saying but all you can think about is that stupid witness pressing her chest up against Spencer, and the fact that he was practically bathing in the attention she gave him. You hated the fact that Spencer was getting exactly what he wants, he lives for your punishments. In a way, punishing him was also rewarding him but it was rewarding for you too.

After vaguely remembering Hotch asking for Spencer, you watched him scramble forward. You don't miss the fact that he nearly stops to ask for your permission to do so, you have him trained so well. A smile quirks at the corner of your mouth and you almost feel like forgiving him until Hotch speaks again.

"Reid, I want you to take Allison Calloway home..." he lists off where the rest of you will go but at that point you're no longer listening. You hear Hotch pair your name with Derek, which sparks a wicked idea in your head. He's having Spencer take the witness home? Is the world punishing you? You see Spencer steal one nervous glance at you before rushing to get Allison. You tongue your cheek before reluctantly following Derek out of the precinct.

You and Derek were apparently instructed by Hotch to go investigate the second crime scene, where a young man with his hands missing was found earlier this morning. You peek at Derek out of the corner of your eye, Derek is one of your close friends and he knows more than he should about yours and Spencer's...extracurricular activities. He seems to be in a good mood today, and he's unlikely to think anything of it. He'll definitely tell Spencer about it, which is sort of what you're hoping for. While this is hardly the place for you to "come on" to Derek, you're willing to do it. Spencer needs a taste of his own medicine.

"Odd, that the unsub removes the hands but repositions the watch around the victims ankle." Derek muses, his hand coming up to scratch at the stubble on his chin. Luckily the officers sent to patrol the crime scene are nowhere nearby. You circle Derek, trying to formulate the perfect sentence in your mind. It can't be too much, but definitely enough for him to inform Spencer. Derek is used to more lewd phrases coming from yours and Penelope's mouth, so surprising him enough to tattle to your boyfriend will be a challenge.

It can't be anything that would hurt Spencer however.

Derek views Spencer as his little brother and would never hurt him, and you wouldn't want to hurt Spencer either this is all in good filthy fun. It has to be a little risky, but not so risky that Derek would prefer keeping it from Spencer to protect him. If its too much Derek will approach you directly about it which would be humiliating and would entirely miss the point. This is a very delicate operation.

"Oh Derek, have you been working out?" You decide to take the easy route, adding a dash of sultry to your tone.

"Occasionally." Derek doesn't turn his head towards you, you haven't quite captured his attention yet.

"Firm is a good look on you." You tease, you'll need to ease him into it because he's going to have the wind knocked out of him when you finally lay it on him.

"Easy girly, you're venturing into dangerous territory." You hear the lilt to his tone letting you know that he's joking. You need to push it further.

"No I'm serious," you need to tread very carefully. You don't want to ruin a friendship you still want to keep, "it's a really good look on you."

Derek turns to you then, an eyebrow raised as he watches you trail your eyes down his body. While Derek isn't a bad looking guy, he doesn't even come close to comparing to your beautiful boy. Spencer is easily the cutest and sexiest man you've ever had the privilege of standing in the same room with.

"What's with you?" He asks, keeping the smile on his face so he doesn't alert you that he's concerned. You're on the right track but if you leave it here Derek will let it go. You need to drop that mini bomb on him, just a little more. You trail a finger down his shoulder, towards his bicep.

"Nothing, just admiring the view. The big, strong, sexy, view. What I wouldn't give to have you in bed Derek Morgan." There's the bomb. Your words have an immediate effect over him. The half-lidded sultry look in your eyes is enough for him to raise his eyebrows in surprise. Usually he can tell if you're joking but now he really can't tell. He's speechless, which doesn't happen to Derek Morgan very often.

"Y/N..."

"Call me if you wanna take me up on my offer." You send a wink at him before turning to head towards the black SUV. That should be enough for him to tattle.

When you return to the precinct, you watch with pleased eyes as Derek immediately pulls Spencer into a side room. Derek briefly glances at you, and you send him a smile but do not receive on in return. You don't think anything of it, Derek will get over it eventually with an explanation. You watch carefully as Derek begins to speak and an unreadable expression crosses onto Spencer's face, you expect he's just absorbing what Derek is telling him. Any minute now that look will cross onto his face, those dark eyes that warn you that you've officially annoyed him.

Derek keeps speaking, you can see his lips moving. What are they talking about? It shouldn't be taking this long. You're too far away to really make out their faces, so you subtly sneak closer when Spencer's eyes flash to meet yours and you gasp. There is no anger on his face, no playful annoyance, instead you see pain. Hurt. Betrayal. Derek tries to reach out to grab Spencer but the door to that side room opens and Spencer comes rushing out of it. Not bothering a side glance at you as he makes his hasty exit.

"I was only kidding." You explain quickly as Derek emerges. He doesn't look amused.

"It was too far Y/N. He's crushed." Derek snaps, brushing past you. Immediately you turn and exit the precinct, quickly finding Spencer tucked away in a secluded corner. He's sitting against the building, his head tucked into his knees and the absolute worst part is the fact that he's softly crying. You kneel in front of him in an instant, although you're not sure what to even say.

"Oh baby boy, I was only kidding. I didn't mean it, I said it because you flirted with that blonde witness!" You explain in a hurry, trying to reach out to take him in your arms. Spencer resists, instead lifting his head to look at you. His eyes are glossy and red rimmed, "kidding?"

"Yes precious, I was kidding."

"But Derek is more...attractive then I am." Spencer whimpers softly. You reach forward to firmly grasp Spencer's chin, ensuring he looks at you.

"Spencer Walter Reid you look at me," You order, and hesitantly Spencer lifts his watery eyes to meet yours. "There is not a single person who is more attractive then you are, you are flawless."

"But deep down you want Derek-"

"I was kidding Spencer. I only want you, my good boy." You purr, and you see a shiver run down his spine. You lean forward to press your lips to his before your thumbs come up to swipe away your tears.

"I'm not a good boy, I don't deserve it." Spencer whimpers once you help him stand up. Even though you're looking up at him, it's still very clear that you're the one in charge. "I flirted with Allison."

"You're right, you haven't been very good have you? I'm sure you'll make it up to me in the hotel room." You smile pressing a kiss to his flushed cheek. He nods immediately, it warms your heart.

"I love you." Spencer whispers after he catches your hand as you're about to open the door. You press a kiss to his palm, "I love you precious."

You could feel the nerves rolling off of him when you opened the door to your shared hotel room. The door shut with a soft click as you kicked off your shoes. Spencer remained at the hotel room door curled in on himself and wringing his hands together. You have to hide the smile as you shed your jacket from your shoulders, beginning to reach for your jeans when you pause. You take a seat on the bed, watching Spencer eye you carefully from his spot by the door.

"Come here." There isn't a question in your tone, it's more of an order. An order Spencer hastily obeys as he scrambles to stand before you.

"Undress me." You instruct, and Spencer kneels immediately to grab at the hem of your shirt. He carefully lifts the fabric off your body and tosses it aside before reaching around your body to unclip your bra. "No touching baby boy, you were naughty remember?" You snapped, and you saw him turn his head down in shame before turning his attention towards your pants. He unbuttons your jeans and helps pull them down your legs. Spencer's breath gets caught in his throat when his eyes land on your clothed pussy.

"Like what you see precious? Maybe if you were a good boy and didn't let that woman run her hands all over you, maybe I'd let you touch." You purr watching the disdain in his eyes when he realizes what his punishment is going to be.

"Tell me the truth baby boy, did you let her touch you in the car?"

He nods, but that's not good enough for you. You reach down to roughly palm him through his slacks.

"I said did you let her touch you?" You punctuate every word with a gentle squeeze around his cock. Finally, Spencer seems to find his voice.

"Y-Yes!"

"Where? Show me where she marked what's mine." You hiss, not even attempting to disguise your frustration. Spencer lifts one hand to his chest and trails it down his stomach, dangerously close to the hem of his pants before thankfully he stops.

"You let her touch you, this close to your cock?" You snap, tearing your hand away from him.

"I-I'm sorry!" He stammers, his eyes wide and his hands resting on the tops of his thighs. Boy does he look pretty on his knees before you. Not pretty enough for mercy however. There's a pleading look in his eyes, and a desperation. A desperation to please you.

"Make it up to me." You snap and as soon as the words leave your lips, Spencer's fingers are curling around the waistband of your underwear and tearing them off your body.

"Y-Yes ma'am." You lean back on your elbows as Spencer lowers his head between your legs, his eyes flickering to yours briefly. With a nod of your head, Spencer is delving between your legs with the enthusiasm of sex deprived teenager. Your head tosses back immediately as you feel his tongue licking thick stripes over your entrance. He continues to lap at you, his tongue teasing your entrance before he returns to his heavy licking. You moan softly, your fingers digging into his curls and pulling his head closer.

"Just like that, you're being such a good boy." You praise through breathy moans, and Spencer can feel his chest swell with pride. He loves being your good boy. But he isn't your baby boy all the time, sometimes, with a bit of coaxing, he becomes daddy. Spencer reaches up to prod a finger at your entrance before he's sinking in knuckle deep, his mouth curling around your clit. Spencer pumps on finger, to stretch you a little before slowly working a second finger into your suffocatingly tight heat.

"Yes Spencer, don't stop." You beg, feeling yourself climbing closer to reaching the peak, especially when his tongue flicks expertly against your clit while his fingers pump steadily into you. "Oh God, my good boy-" You praise again, and this time Spencer moans against you. Your toes curl as the vibrations send a course of pleasure through you, you've got to make him do that again.

"Do you like being my good boy Spencer? My good, obedient boy. So eager to please me, to make me feel good. And you do, you make me feel so good because you're such a good, good, boy." Your heavy praise causes Spencer to release a low groan, and the feeling is enough to launch you over the edge. Spencer keeps pumping is fingers into you, his tongue swirling soft circles over your clit to help you through your orgasm. Once your body has stopped jerking, you finally pull him off you.

"I forgive you precious, but unfortunately I still have to punish you." You inform him as you pull him back up to his feet. You hear him whine as you push his chest to lay him back against the bed.

"Do you have to?"

"Are you talking back to me baby boy?"

"N-No!" He squeaks instantly, his cheeks painted red. You stand over him, laying beneath you and you can't fight the soft moan that escapes your lips upon seeing him. His hair is disheveled from you raking your fingers through his, his brown eyes are wide and innocent as he looks up at you, and his cheeks are dusted such a beautiful shade of pink.

"Take off your clothes precious, I want to see all of you." You instruct, and you love the shy look on his face as he reaches up to remove his shirt. You let your eyes shamelessly roam his body as he slowly exposes more skin to you. Despite having been together for a few years now, Spencer is still incredibly insecure. Deep down he's worried you'll grow tired of him. Worried that you'll seek out other men despite being with him. Spencer is worried he's not enough to keep you interested. Which is wildly untrue, it's already been over 3 years and if anything you become more interested as time goes on.

"So beautiful baby boy, your body is a work of art." You breathe under your breath. Spencer blushes even deeper then he was before as he nervously fidgets underneath. You swing your legs on either side of his waist, your palms on the bed next to his head. "Your punishment, precious boy," your hands drift to his that are resting on your hips, "is that you can't touch me." You finish, moving his hands to the bed.

Spencer's eyes widen as his head drops back. A whine escapes his lips, but like a good boy, he grasps tightly at the sheets. You reach between your bodies to grasp his cock, pressing the head against your entrance before you teasingly lower onto him. Spencer's eyes squeeze shut at the feeling of your velvety walls around him- it's almost too much for the poor boy. It doesn't help that it's been a few weeks since you two last had sex, meaning you're tighter then you normally are. In fact you're so tight that Spencer can't even breathe properly while he's stretching you open.

"Oh baby boy, you feel absolutely wonderful. Your cock stretches me open so good." You purr, your hands landing on his chest for leverage so you can bounce on him faster. Spencer whimpers softly, the feeling is overwhelming, you can tell he's struggling to contain himself. Your hair drifts down your back when you throw your head back, his cock hitting places deep inside you.

"Getting close," You moan and Spencer knows that's his cue to reach down and begin rubbing circles over your clit. As soon as his thumb makes contact you're moaning loudly, your free hand digging into his hair to hold onto tightly. "Yes Spencer, yes." The phrase becomes a chant you repeat in your head over and over again. Spencer continues to rub you, desperate to help you find your release. When you slam down on him again, his cock hits the place deep inside you that makes your toes curl. You cum instantaneously, your body nearly falling top of Spencer's from the sheer force of it. Spencer's arms come up to steady you, offering shallow thrusts into you to chase his own release.

"Y/N...c-can I?" His voice is wrought, and you smile weakly.

"Yes precious, you can cum." As soon as you give him permission, he's cumming in hot gushes into you, his face buried in your neck. You run your hand down his back as his heart rate slows back to normal, and Spencer's arms stay curled around your waist.

"Spence?"

"Hm?" You can hear the lazy drawl in his voice that lets you know he's getting very sleepy.

"Don't ever break my rules again, or your punishment will be much worse."

"Yes ma'am." You press a kiss to his lips before pulling off him, and curling yourself into his side.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer x y/n #criminal minds #bau #sub!spencer #dom!reader #criminal minds smut #mdlb relationship

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warriorsbutnotreally · 4 years ago

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Why Squirrelflight And Finleap Are NOT The Same - Discussion

I have a lot of opinions on this, do bare with me

because I can say now

if you put Squirrelflight asking Bramblestar about kits on the same level as Finleap pressuring Twigbranch

Assume I don't like you

Unless you have a legitimate reason to compare a domestic abuse victim to someone who was actively manipulating his mate to consider having his babies so that he felt 'like he could stay with her', I don't care what you have to say

Because there's a big difference and it's a little thing called context and power dynamics

That being said

disclaimer that I am aro/ace, so this is coming from the lens of someone who doesn't understand romance but knows a bad situation when I see one

///

tw; mentions of abuse and manipulation

Let's start with Finleap

As apprentices he has a cute friendship with Twigbranch and it's implied the two like each other as a little more than friends, though Twig doesn't seem ready for that commitment just yet

We first see the topic of kits come up in this conversation.

“I know.” Finleap spoke softly. “It’s scary having so much responsibility. And these are our first apprentices. But it’s okay for us to make mistakes and it’s okay for them to make mistakes. We’re learning together.” “But I’m supposed to know what to do.” A lump sat in Twigbranch’s throat like a stone. “Why?” Finleap wove around her and stopped as he caught her eye. “You’re a great warrior, Twigbranch. And you’re kind. You don’t have to stop being kind just because you’re a mentor. Trust your instincts. Push Flypaw when she needs pushing, but encourage her too. You must know how good a little encouragement can feel when you’re facing something new and difficult.” There was warmth in his gaze that touched Twigbranch’s heart. He really cared whether she’d be a good mentor. He wanted her to succeed. She purred and touched her nose to his. “Besides,” he went on, “mentoring will teach us patience. Imagine what good parents we’ll be when we have kits.” When we have kits! Twigbranch pulled away. Finleap’s gaze was misty. Was he really thinking about having kits already? They weren’t even mates yet. Twigbranch wasn’t ready to be tied to the nursery. She was barely ready to think about having a mate. She changed the subject. “Let’s check the border.” She didn’t want to hurt Finleap’s feelings. “Flypaw! Snappaw! This way!” she called to the apprentices, scanning the bracken until they appeared, then turned and headed along the trail toward ShadowClan’s border.

It's important to note the obvious negative reaction she has, even outside of her own thoughts. She was perfect fine with touching him until kits are mentioned. She's also quick to change the topic.

It's also implied here and in a couple other places that they hadn't even had this conversation before, as it's sprung onto her without any warning.

And if you don't believe me, consider this paragraph -

His confidence soothed her. He seemed so sure of himself. Even when he’d been pulling Puddleshine free, he’d known he could do it. He was sure they’d be mates too and that they’d have kits one day. And the thought didn’t scare him. Anxiety wormed beneath Twigbranch’s pelt. Then why does it scare me?

Twigbranch isn't ready for kits and the fact Finleap is shows that they're not seeing eye to eye on the issue. He's confident he wants to be a father, but she's not sure she wants to be a mother just yet.

He wants her to be on the same page, even if she isn't ready.

“I like it here, but I don’t feel like I belong.” Finleap glanced at his paws. “Which is why I want to start a family. Here, in ThunderClan. Then I’ll feel part of the Clan. I’ll feel like I have something here that is truly my own. I want to have kits.” “Kits?” Twigbranch’s mouth was so dry, she could hardly speak. Finleap watched her, his gaze expectant. “But you know how I feel about kits,” Twigbranch blurted. “I’m not ready. I want to concentrate on mentoring. I’ve told you all this.” “I know.” Finleap held her gaze. “But I need you to think about it again. I have to feel I belong here—that you want me. If you don’t ever want to have kits with me, I’m not sure I’ll ever feel at home in ThunderClan.”

"If you don’t ever want to have kits with me, I’m not sure I’ll ever feel at home in ThunderClan."

That's a really shitty thing to say to someone especially your bestfriend / girlfriend

"I'm worthless here unless you give up part of your young adult life to providing me with children"

This isn't even a Fernsong situation where he offers to live in the nursery when she's able to go back out. No. He wants her in the nursery with her kits.

Next time we see these two

She glanced at Finleap, wishing he would say something encouraging. “I’m glad Bramblestar picked us. What if it’s the last chance I get to see Violetshine and Hawkwing?” Please tell me everything will be okay. “I thought kin wasn’t important.” There was bitterness in his mew. Twigbranch flinched. Since he’d told her he wanted to have kits, Finleap had been distant. She always seemed to be the one to start conversations, while he only replied in short, vague phrases. Her heart ached, but what could she do? Promise to be his mate? Give up mentoring Flypaw so that she could have his kits? Anger pricked at her belly. He was pressuring her into something she didn’t want yet. But she loved him, and she could understand that he was acting out of unhappiness. If only he could find his place in ThunderClan. She’d planned to keep stalling—refusing to give him a straight answer—to give him time to adjust. But what if SkyClan left? It would force him to make a decision. Clan or kin? She changed the subject. “I hope Reedclaw has recovered from her cough.” Finleap didn’t respond.

Now Finleap is giving her the cold shoulder, being such a piss-ant about her not wanting kits that he's not even willing to comfort her when both their families might be being chased away.

And moments later

Twigbranch was unnerved. Sparkpelt had been her mentor. Had she always wished SkyClan would leave? Why didn’t I realize? “Do you think the other Clans feel the same way?” Finleap shrugged. “If they do, then SkyClan will have to leave.” Her mouth grew dry. Hearing Finleap say those words out loud made her realize that she hadn’t truly thought it was possible until now. But he was right—SkyClan would have no choice but to leave if none of the Clans were on their side. “I really might never see Hawkwing and Violetshine again.” Finleap didn’t speak. Didn’t he care? “Will you go back with them?” She stared at him, her heart pounding. “I don’t know.” He avoided her gaze. Was she going to lose her kin and her love at the same time? What would be left if they went? Feeling sick, Twigbranch followed her Clanmates to the tree-bridge.

Not only does he voice her fears out loud, but he doesn't deny that he'd stay with her if she isn't with him. This is a manipulation tactic and a very shitty and terrible one that that for him to use again the girl he allegedly loves.

At the end of the gathering -

“SkyClan!” Leafstar called to her Clanmates from the long grass. Harrybrook and Macgyver hurried after her. “We must go,” Hawkwing mewed huskily. He turned away. Twigbranch gazed frantically at Violetshine. “Is this the last time I’ll see you?” “I don’t know.” Violetshine touched her muzzle to Twigbranch’s. Her breath was warm in the chilly night air. “It’s up to Leafstar now.” “Good-bye.” Twigbranch could hardly speak. Her throat tightened as Violetshine pulled away and headed after Hawkwing. As she turned back to her Clanmates, she saw Finleap. He was watching Plumwillow and Sandynose disappear into the grass. She hurried to his side. “Did you say good-bye?” He didn’t answer. The sorrow in his gaze pierced her heart. “Are you planning to go with them if they leave?” She felt numb. He stared at her. “I love you, Twigbranch. But if you don’t want to have kits, I should go with my kin. At least I’ll be somewhere I belong, instead of chasing a dream that might never come true.”

His wording is honestly just terrible.

His dream with Twigbranch is only to have children with her. He may say he loves her, yeah, but according to himself, he's willing to leave her forever just because she's isn't committed to the idea of having babies with him.

I want to say this now

If someone you like is willing to ditch you because you don't want to raise a family, be it at the moment or ever? Leave them. They're not worth it.

You shouldn't feel obligated to have a family with someone.

After SkyClan leaves, Finleap decides to stay in ThunderClan.

Of course, his pity party isn't over.

In the days since SkyClan had left, Finleap had seemed uneasy. They’d talked after the Gathering and he’d decided to stay in ThunderClan. Twigbranch had been relieved. Of course Finleap was upset at losing his kin, and at first she’d tried to be supportive, but it was like he was clinging to the loss. He’d started to act as though he’d made the wrong choice. He’d begun to eat alone and go to his nest early instead of sharing tongues with the Clan. He was acting like an outsider. Frustration itched beneath Twigbranch’s pelt, growing stronger each day. How could Finleap ever feel like part of ThunderClan if he didn’t try to fit in? At least he’d stopped talking about having kits. Had he really accepted that they wouldn’t have kits until they were both ready? Twigbranch wasn’t sure the matter was settled. Part of her wondered if Finleap wished he’d left with SkyClan after all.

This is where communication between the two is an issue.

Of course Finleap is going to be upset that his family is, as far as he knows, gone forever.

However

He never once clarifies that he's only upset about his kin to Twigbranch, his girlfriend, making his breakdown seem torn between missing his family and not liking the idea that the girl he likes isn't ready to have babies yet.

Not only that, Twigbranch has a huge point here.

Finleap claims kits will make him feel like he belongs in ThunderClan. However, outside of Twig and the idea of kits, he hasn't done much to try to bond with anyone in the Clan. Even outside of the conversation about kits, he mostly interacts with his apprentice unless he's out helping someone.

He's not focused on making friends, or being a great ThunderClan warrior. His only focus is having a family with Twigbranch and nothing else.

Granted we don't see his POV, but we do his actions and what he says to the cats he apparently cares about.

Her talk with Tree expresses more of her concerns with her relationship while they're out trying to find SkyClan.

Twigbranch followed his gaze. “I can’t imagine having kits,” she mewed guiltily. “Finleap wants to already, but I’m not ready to give up being a warrior.” “You don’t have to give it up,” Tree reminded her. “Queens only stay in the nursery until their kits are weaned, don’t they?” “I guess.” Was she being selfish, wanting to focus on herself? “But I don’t want to worry about that yet. I like being a mentor. I’m learning so much every day.” “You’re young,” he mewed gently. “There’s no rush.”

For the first time she's being told that it's okay that she doesn't need to feel ready and that there's nothing wrong with taking her time on deciding what she wants.

Of course this leads to-

“Well done!” As Twigbranch purred admiringly, she saw Finleap padding toward them. He was carrying a bedraggled sparrow. It was skinny and looked more like crow-food than fresh- kill. He stopped beside Flypaw and laid it on the ground. “I was thinking that we could share this . . .” He eyed the fat rabbit lying, half-eaten, between Twigbranch and Tree. “But I guess you don’t need it.” Anger hardened his mew. Twigbranch shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t realize you were bringing me food. Tree just offered and I was hungry.” Finleap wasn’t listening. He was still staring at the rabbit. “I guess he knows where the best prey lives. This used to be his home. It’s easy to hunt when you know the territory.” Tree stared at Finleap coldly. “I could catch a rabbit anywhere.” “Did you used to catch rabbits to impress Violetshine?” Finleap mewed pointedly. “Or have you forgotten Violetshine?”

Immediately he's jealous of Tree because he was thoughtful enough to share a rabbit. And Warriors has shown us that there's nothing inherently romantic about sharing prey. It happens all the time and not specifically between mates or two courting cats.

It's a common social interaction between Clan cats.

But Finleap's acting like he caught them sharing a nest.

Tree had been hard on him, but Finleap had picked the fight. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for him, even though he was acting like a fox-heart. She hurried across the cave. Finleap was sniffing at the bedding, his pelt bristling. “Oh, so you can tear yourself away from Tree?” Twigbranch blinked at him. “What are you talking about? Tree loves Violetshine!” He glanced at her angrily and padded out of the cave.

He accuses her of liking Tree and when she denies, he walks away.

She chases after him and then this argument goes down

He stopped as he reached a swath of heather and turned on her. “I bet you don’t even want to find SkyClan! You’re probably happy to see Violetshine gone now that you’ve made Tree notice you.” Shock froze Twigbranch. “Do you have you bees in your brain?” She stared at him. “How could you say something like that? I would never betray my sister. And I’d never make Tree try to notice me. I told you! He’s just a friend. And he wouldn’t do that to Violetshine, either!” “You haven’t left his side since we left camp,” Finleap snarled. “I’m leading the patrol, and he knows the way!” Twigbranch snapped. “Every time I look at you, your muzzle’s in his ear.” “We were just talking! I’ve got to talk to some cat. Ever since SkyClan left the forest, I feel like I can’t talk to you.” Grief pressed in her belly. “I don’t know why you stayed with me. You’ve made it pretty clear that you wish you’d left with SkyClan.” “I stayed because I love you!" Finleap spat. “You’ve hardly looked at me. If that’s love, I don’t want it!” She lashed her tail. “You don’t know what love is!” He glared at her accusingly. “Of course I do!” Why was he being so mean? “I love you!” “Not enough to have my kits.” She stared at him, wind tugging at her fur. “Is that it? If I won’t have your kits, you don’t want me?” “I want you to love me enough to have kits.” Hurt sharpened his gaze.

Again what he's doing here is shitty and he's being jealous of another tom talking to his girlfriend, despite this tom just being a friend, all because he's being nice to her

Not a good sign

And, of course, the apology just sucks. It comes out of nowhere and it doesn't feel like he earned the right to be forgiven

he hurt Twigbranch, made her doubt what she wanted, and treated her like shit

`“But I thought you loved me.” He sounded surprised. “You told Violetshine you loved me very much.” “I do,” she mewed softly. “But not enough to have your kits. Not now. Maybe not ever.” Finleap glanced at his paws. “Let’s forget about kits, huh?” She blinked in surprise. “Forget?” “I was wrong, Twigbranch. Seeing SkyClan again made me realize . . . however much I love my kin, I love you more. I don’t want you to have kits if you don’t want to. I can live without them. But I can’t live without you.” Twigbranch stared at him. “Do you mean that?” “Yes.” Finleap’s eyes shimmered with love. “I’ve been so wrapped up in feeling hurt, I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you—or how much I was hurting our relationship.”

Now, not every character needs a grand realization

But

I don't think just a simple "I'm sorry" makes up for how he made her feel and the harm he did to their relationship and the fact it took this long for him to realize that his girlfriend his her own cat and not just a kit-making factory.

And this is one part of a very long story

Now let's talk about Squirrelflight

Specifically Squirrelflight's Hope, but I will also make references to Omen Of The Stars, as that's when her worse breakup with Brambleclaw/star happened where

may I remind you

he ignored her and treated her like garbage for many moons and when he thought there was a chance she might die was when he finally decided to make amends for her horrible crime of

*checks notes*

protecting her sister's kits from a system that punishes not only halfClan kittens, but the kits of medicine cats

"but she lied" I hear you cry

and to that I say

and?

Bramblestar lied about much worse things than where three kits came from and, may I remind you, he trained in cat hell with his very obviously evil dad who he had been judged for being the son of.

And cats lie in Warriors all the time and it's very rare that they're punished for it

and no, saying you find her annoying also doesn't justify anything

The punishment doesn't match the 'crime' here.

Let's get into Squirrelflight's Hope

The first time kits are brought up is by Bramblestar, him talking about it in a negative light.

... She didn’t feel old yet, but it had been a long time since she’d felt the rush of excitement she used to feel in her first moons as a warrior, whenever she was picked to go on patrol or attend a Gathering. She pressed closer to Bramblestar. “Do you miss being young?” He shrugged. “I miss being irresponsible. Back then, the only thing we had to worry about was our next hunt. That was before we became leader and deputy, and before we had kits to look after.”

Obviously, Squirrelflight doesn't agree there

Squirrelflight felt a pang of longing. Sparkpelt and Alderheart were grown, and she’d never had a chance to know their littermates, Juniperkit and Dandelionkit, who had died. She’d been hoping to have a new litter by now—tiny kits to nurture and love. But they’d had no luck. “Having kits didn’t make me feel old. I liked the responsibility. It’ll be good to feel that way again.” She glanced hopefully at Bramblestar. When he didn’t comment, she prompted him. “Don’t you think?” “Of course.” He didn’t look at her. Anxiety prickled beneath her pelt. She’d wanted him to sound more enthusiastic about kits. “Let’s pretend we’re young again now. It’s almost like we’re sneaking out of camp.” Squirrelflight kept her mew light. “Half the Clan are already in their nests, and the rest will be asleep by the time we get home.” “I wish we could.” Was that a sigh in Bramblestar’s mew? “But we can’t be late for the meeting. And we have to go straight back to camp afterward; Birchfall and Lionblaze will be waiting to find out what happened.”

It's important to note now that Squirrelflight wants to feel young and wants to feel important, something that she doesn't feel now as an older molly.

Things have been serious lately and she wants to lighten the mood, but this is brushed off by Bramblestar.

It should be noted that the leaders - and not Squirrelflight - are talking about how their Clans need territory because they have expecting queens. Squirrelflight has an internal reaction, yes, but doesn't say anything.

Bramblestar's also being a hardass here and Squirrelflight does have a good idea, but he's quick to make her feel bad about it.

“Might be.” Bramblestar’s tail twitched angrily. “Or it might be overrun with snakes, or dogs, or foxes. Warriors might die thanks to your idea.”

There was no sign the gathering was leader only. If it was, why bring non-leaders? And everyone had been having an open discussion about possible ideas.

But Bramblestar shames Squirrelflight for trying to be helpful.

And of course, we start reaching this scene

“But we’d all have bigger territories if SkyClan moved.” Squirrelflight hurried after him. “And you heard Harestar and Leafstar. The Clans are growing. There’ll be more kits by newleaf, more mouths to feed, more apprentices to train—” “More kits!” Bramblestar lashed his tail. “Is that all you think about now?”

She's not talking about her own kits. She's literally referencing something previously brought up by two other Clan leaders. However, Bramblestar turns this against her, lashing out about an already dead conversation that didn't last.

A conversation that he had brought up both the first time and this time.

His words stung like claw marks. She watched him disappear into the grass, her chest tightening. “Don’t you think about it?” She pushed after him, but he was already hurrying ahead. He was on the tree-bridge by the time she caught up to him. She followed him over it and jumped onto the far shore. She fell in beside Bramblestar, breathless as she tried to keep up. “Don’t you think about kits, Bramblestar?” “I have kits,” he snapped. “Alderheart and Sparkpelt? They’re grown up now!” “I know!” Bramblestar didn’t look at her. “They’re old enough to look after themselves. Why are you so desperate to be responsible for new lives? Isn’t being deputy enough?” “It should be, but it’s not.” Squirrelflight felt panic welling. “I’m getting older with each season. One day I won’t be able to have more kits. I just want another litter before it’s too late.”

Not only did he run off after bring this conversation back, but he continues to shame Squirrelflight after he stops running, implying that she's not content being deputy.

She's worried because she's scared that she's getting older.

The fear of growing older is a common fear and brushing it off as someone being irrational isn't fair to the person.

and to get to the scene where she's "like Finleap" according to those people out there with pebbles instead of brains.

“I know.” Bramblestar sounded weary. “And of course I want kits. Just not as much as you do.” Squirrelflight stopped and stared after him. “Don’t you love me anymore?”

She's not asking this to guilt trip or manipulate. We'd be seeing signs of that way before this question.

Instead this is given the context of being asked in desperation.

I remind you that Bramblestar had spent an entire arc being harsh and cold to her, making her feel small, and he had been making her feel small again, berating her and having her question her ideas.

He's being a piece of shit and she's scared that this is going to turn into all those moons of OotS again.

Even if she was trying to, the power dynamic isn't in her favor. Not only is he older than her, having been made a warrior before she was even born, he's the leader. He has 9 long lives ahead of him.

As shown here she's painfully aware of it, too

Bramblestar turned, his eyes sparking with exasperation. “Yes! But I am responsible for our Clan. And if the other Clans are planning to start up more trouble with SkyClan, I need to focus on that. I don’t have as much energy as I used to. I’m getting older too.” “No, you’re not!” Anger flared in Squirrelflight’s chest. “You have more lives than me—” She broke off as a realization washed over her like ice water. Was that why he didn’t care about kits? He had plenty of time to have kits in the future, maybe even with another mate, when she was dead. The thought made her feel sick. Bramblestar’s next litter might have a mother who wasn’t her. She stared at him, unable to speak.

She doesn't put it past Bramblestar to move on after she's gone, despite his older age and that was also proof in Bramblestar's Storm, where he was actively interested in courting Jessy.

Her fears here are valid. Not only is she older, but she only has one life to live. He doesn't.

And he's perfectly in the right to not want anymore kits

However, his attitude and behavior to his mate is absolutely terrible and instead of talking to her, he's belittling her and making her feel bad for wanting things.

And for having different opinions at that

His gaze shimmered suddenly as though he saw her pain. “I’m sorry.” He hurried to her side and pressed his muzzle against her cheek. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I was angry. I felt you weren’t on my side at the meeting. I was trying to protect SkyClan.” “So was I!” She pulled away indignantly. “I was trying to find a solution that would keep the peace.” “Maybe you’re right. But that isn’t the point. You’re my deputy.” His tail twitched. “You’re supposed to back me up in front of the other Clans. We need to look united. You know how quickly Tigerstar smells weakness, and how he exploits it.”

Then why make her deputy again?

“And you did the ShadowClan border patrol.” Squirrelflight’s tail-tip was twitching, though she kept her voice low. “And yesterday you trekked all the way over to RiverClan and risked your life rescuing that kittypet.” “So?” Bramblestar began to feel frustrated. “I’m fine. It’s not a problem.” “It’ll be a problem for the rest of us if our Clan leader collapses from exhaustion.” Bramblestar heaved a long sigh. “Remind me why I chose you to be my deputy,” he muttered through his teeth. “Because I won’t let you boss me around,” Squirrelflight retorted, her green eyes flashing. True, Bramblestar thought ruefully.

Oh yeah, cause he doesn't want a yes-man deputy

Or maybe he wants a deputy who only challenges him when it's convenient and/or doesn't make him look like an idiot.

Which is kinda

not great

“It looks a lot like weakness when a deputy disagrees with her leader in public.” Bramblestar shifted his paws. “You should know better! You should have discussed your idea with me in private and we could have taken it to the other Clans together.” “It might have been too late by then.” Squirrelflight paused. She didn’t want to argue. And besides, the issue with SkyClan wasn’t what was worrying her now. “I’m sorry I spoke up without talking to you first. But is that really why you said you don’t want to have kits?” Bramblestar gazed at her, his eyes round. “I’m sorry if I made it sound that way. I do want to have kits with you.” “Really?” Her heart lifted. “Yes. If that’s what you want.” Squirrelflight stared at him. There was resignation in his eyes. Grief twisted her belly as he stared back at her blankly. She turned away. I want you to want it too.

Here's where the argument that Squirrelflight, in any way, is equal to Finleap falls apart the most.

She doesn't need to be told that he doesn't feel the same.

She can see it in the way he acts.

She knows he doesn't and she lets the conversation die. Yes, she still thinks about how Bramblestar may move on and have a new litter after she's gone, but she doesn't talk about it, instead keeping her thoughts to herself, not wanting to rock their unstable relationship any more than it has been.

Most of this book has Squirrelflight second guessing what she wants and believing that maybe she was in the wrong for talking openly about a possible idea when everyone else had been doing it.

There's literally a scene where she's having what, in my opinion, feels similar to the start of a near panic attack where her thoughts spiral into a dark pit

But it hadn’t been just the kits he’d been upset about. She’d contradicted him in front of the others. But they were close to fighting! Squirrelflight flicked her tail indignantly. And I have a right to my own opinion. Her plan for SkyClan could be the perfect solution. She couldn’t have held her tongue even if she’d wanted to. Bramblestar had implied that a good deputy would have kept quiet. She shook out her pelt. Was that what Bramblestar thought—that she wasn’t a good deputy? Hurt sharpened its claws on her heart once again. She closed her eyes. Chasing thoughts like this wasn’t going to help her feel better.

The way Bramblestar spoke to her struck so deep that Squirrelflight feels selfish for having her own wants, as seen by her talking to her sister.

Squirrelflight let out her breath. Never mind the awkwardness—Leafpool will understand. And she needed reassurance. “He said he doesn’t want more kits as much as I do.” Leafpool’s eyes rounded with sympathy. “Oh, Squirrelflight.” Squirrelflight nodded. “I know. It’s—” Selfish of me, she was about to say. Because I’ve already mothered two litters. But Leafpool didn’t let her finish. “That must have hurt,” Leafpool said softly, dipping her head. “I know how much you want another litter.” “Bramblestar says he’s getting old and that the Clan is enough responsibility.” She trailed into silence, the memory of the argument stinging her afresh. “I’m sure he’d love kits if you had them,” Leafpool mewed. “But I can see how he finds the thought overwhelming.” Squirrelflight blinked at her. “Do you think I’m being unreasonable, wanting more kits? I know I . . .” “No, of course not. But you already have Alderheart and Sparkpelt. And, in a way, Jayfeather and Lionblaze.” Squirrelflight nodded, but her heart ached. “They don’t need me anymore.”

The power dynamic between Bramblestar and Squirrelflight aren't fair and, again, he's in his right to not want any more kits right now

but the way he spoke and made her feel like her wanting kits at all was terrible and that she should feel bad isn't the way to handle a relationship where two people have two different wants

And for more proof that Bramblestar doesn't make his deputy, who is also his mate, feel important

we have this line

And as far as kits went . . . Leafpool didn’t understand what it felt like not to be needed. Leafpool was needed every day. The Clan depended on her, sometimes for their lives. It was different for Squirrelflight. Even as deputy, she was just one warrior among many.

She's made to feel like another warrior, a replaceable cog in a machine, when Bramblestar had never been made to feel like that while he was deputy

In fact, in Squirrelflight's own words

"Who does Brambleclaw think he is, treating me like I'm still wet behind the ears? Toms are so much trouble! You don't know how lucky you are, Leafpool, not having to worry about things like that. Well I know there was Crowfeather..."

After becoming deputy his confidence and ego went up and he made it known that he wasn't just another cat

He was ThunderClan's deputy

But he never allows his mate to feel like that

In fact, he actively puts her down

He starts making up rules just to keep her in place and lashing out when she tries to fight back. Even when Squirrelflight is trying to be happy that Sparkpelt is expecting kits, Bramblestar brings up their conversation.

Yes, Squirrelflight did feel a little envious, she felt guilty about feeling that way and just wanted to be happy for her daughter

but he was the one who brought up how she wanted kits and he didn't, further making her feel shameful

he didn't even aid in comforting his daughter when her pregnancy brought pain after he sparked the fight with Squirrelflight. He was just watching as Squirrelflight helped their daughter, Squilf being the one to talk to her gently when she was worried about the intense craps she was feeling

When Sunrise, one of the Sisters, is actively dying, he refuses to allow anyone to help her until the medicine cats talk to StarClan and when they get an unclear message, he's more than willing to let her die

When Leafpool refuses to allow this, he actively challenges the medicine cat in front of the entire Clan and Squirrelflight snaps to her sister's defense once more.

Squirrelflight held her ground. “I have to do what I think is right.” “Even if it costs you your Clan?” “ThunderClan is stronger than that,” Squirrelflight spat. “At least I hope it is. If our future depends on letting a cat die, then it’s not the Clan I thought it was.” Bramblestar stared at her. Uncertainty glittered in his gaze. “Why are you doing this to me?” His words pierced her heart. “You’re my deputy. You’re my mate. You’re supposed to support me.” “Being a good deputy doesn’t mean blindly following orders.” Squirrelflight didn’t move. “It means standing up for what I believe, and this time, I believe I’m right.” The camp seemed to swim around her. She knew she was hurting him. But she had to convince him. As the Clan watched her silently, their eyes round in the moonlight, Bramblestar backed away.

Bramblestar tries to manipulate her and that's where the big power dynamic comes in

he's the leader

he's older

he had gone out of his way many times to make her feel small and weak compared to him, even imposing reckless rules just to try to keep her where he wants her

he wants to use her emotions against her

and when she refuses to let him hurt her more

he strikes her with more sharp and hurtful words

Around him, the Clan got to their paws. Mousewhisker and Twigbranch helped Tempest and Hawk lift Sunrise. Leafpool nosed her way into the medicine den. Bramblestar narrowed his eyes, his face like stone. Squirrelflight tried to drag her gaze from his, her heart cracking as he curled his lip. “StarClan wanted unity among the Clans,” he snarled. “Thanks to you, there’s not even unity in ThunderClan anymore.”

“Thanks to you, there’s not even unity in ThunderClan anymore.”

because she didn't want an needless death, he blames her for the discourse he created

this is only a portion of the Squirrelflight mistreatment in this book, but it's all that I'm going to mention since it deals with the topic at hand

and of course we know she decides she doesn't need more kits after all

but what I want to say is

these two stories aren't even

Finleap is manipulative and tries to make Twigbranch feel like she needs to have his kits to prove she loves him or to keep him around

Squirrelflight wants to have more kits, but is made to feel like her needs are selfish and that she should feel bad for these feelings

Twig and Bramble are valid for not wanting kits just as much as Fin and Squirrel are valid for wanting them

However, Finleap isn't in the right for pressuring his girlfriend to marry him and have kittens when she isn't ready

and Bramblestar isn't in the right for shaming his mate for wanting more kits and making a scene out of their relationship problems

and before any incels find this

their genders wouldn't matter in this

if Finleap was a she-cat harassing the tom she liked to have kits with her to make her feel like she belonged in a Clan, I'd still feel the same way

if Squirrelflight was a tom who wanted more kits, but his female leader mate berated him and made him to feel guilty for wanting that, I'd feel the same

it's not about toms and she-cats, men and women, or whatever terrible black and white gender binary lens you're looking through

it's about two different types of shitty mates in two different situations

those being Finleap and Bramblestar and their manipulation of Twigbranch and Squirrelflight respectively.

#discussion #finleap #twigbranch #squirrelflight #bramblestar #warriors #warrior cats #cw; mention of abuse #cw; manipulation #cw; finleap and bramblestar are terrible in canon #and their redemptions are half-assed cause the erins still want you to root for terrible couples

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your--isgayrights · 3 years ago

Note

I love all this! I’m going to reread wall fic for the uhh third(?) time with all your behind the scenes stuff in mind! I noticed in your list of stuff you like to talk about, you included Naruto. How/what do you think orv-character(s)-of-your-choice would do in the Narutoverse? (If that’s too odd an ask, just take the compliment and my love <3)

Literally when someone says the word reread to me I swoon; I am swooning currently swoon swoon swoon.

YES I DO LOVE NARUTO. Naruto is my little guy okay. I know that I Cannot Convince other people in good conscious to get into it Now in the year of 2022, but it's just that comfort show for me that when stuff was happening to me growing up I always felt like there was something True to My Life that was happening concurrently in Naruto... Teenage Boy Syndrome smh... ANYWAY my Favorite episodes are Shippuden 209-216 (bc he has a panic attack in 209 and is Going Through It while his toxic middleschool crush attempts to murder the chief of police and then his bestie decides she has to murder their mutual middleschool crush and its so <3 drama). Also Sakura and Hinata are my favorite characters who are not Naruto.

Sorry okay but like you basically activated my trap card here. I'll try very hard to talk as little about Naruto and focus as much on ORV as possible... because this is my ORV blog...

Ummm if you're just asking one to one comparisons here; I think that some of the things that draw me into ORV are obviously things I saw in Naruto because Naruto was sort of a Formative Media Experience for me like before I watched Naruto I was like 12 and didn't have a personality yet and just watched what was popular but then after watching 500 episodes of a show I decided was My Favorite everything else falls into place. So obviously there's the Standard Shounen tropes I just like to see in everything like the emphasis on friendship and bonds in times of crisis and war and the way that Trauma is dissected... Like I always say this but like if you want to help a teenage boy exercise his empathy muscles sit him down in front of Naruto because the ONE thing that Naruto is always doing that it gets called like slow paced for nowadays is that it takes the time to remind you Why You Care about the people who are fighting, why the fight matters to these people, and what their motivations are even if they seem like they're just up and down villains from Naruto's perspective... This kind of drags things out in the end because there's so much time spent building empathy that near the end when Kishimoto decides he needs to have like a Big Bad we kind of get a bunch of weakly outlined OP villains for everyone with a Backstory to unite against (which I suppose is the weakness of dissecting the horror of war so thoroughly despite the fact that your plot hinges on the ever perpetuating and escalating nature of war). Like I think that the End of Naruto where all the ghosts of the characters we care abouts' pasts come back to fight had a lot of potential to Further the themes about how the Current state of society's conflicts is predicated by the egos of those of the past; but a lot of that theming that was heavily emphasized in the Pain arc gets shoved to the side in favor of trying to make "resolution"s to the important characters' personal traumas. Like I REALLY hate the way that Gaara's parents were handled like NO it is NOT curative of ANY of Gaara's issues to just be like "actually the trauma didn't happen :) it was made up :D go be happy now son!" Same thing with the way that the arc between Itachi and Sasuke was resolved... Kishimoto has this habit of only really knowing how to "resolve" a traumatic or tragic arc by backpedalling and saying "No actually it didn't happen like that!" instead of doing what I think is a lot more interesting and saying Yes That's what happened; where do we go now?

WHICH IS WHY I LOVE ORV OKAY THIS ASK IS ABOUT ORV. I think that ORV explores a lot of the same themes that Naruto fans love about the horrors of violence and the perpetuity of cyclical trauma; but like... how do I put this... It actually Knows its doing that? Haha, like, I honestly think that Naruto as a story is very... Raw. You can see a lot of how the cutthroat nature profiteering nature of the shounen manga market effects the production; during certain arcs different ideas and themes are brought to the forefront and you can tell when a chapter is being written for the purpose of introducing a new character or for the sake of one cool moment for the hero... But even still there are times when you really can just Feel that something being written is coming from something Real and raw and just kind of how the Author really sees things... Like Kishimoto often references that the driving motivation of Naruto to help his friend who is going through something dark is related to something in his own life, and I think it really shows in the very structure of Naruto in this theme of always reaching for the past and wanting things to be the same as they were back then... I feel like a lot of people thought the ending of Shippuden is supposed to come off as a resolution to that struggle and got disappointed when him and sasuke didn't get together... but I really like to think that the truth is Naruto's dream was actually impossible; things can't be like they were back then... But they can still be better. He'll never be as close to Sasuke again, they won't have team 7 of his childhood ever agian but... He knows that Sasuke's out there somewhere doing good things, and he just... moves on with his life. Starts a family, becomes a leader... I really appreciate that, actually.

Either way though, there's a lot of evidence that an ending I enjoyed came about purely due to coincidence... It's sort of confirmed that a lot of the decisions Kishimoto made towards the end were influenced by publishers' perceptions of what fans would be satisfied with... And a lot of the end of Naruto really shows like the Evidence of that struggle.

OKAY BUT I SAID ALL OF THAT ABOUT NARUTO BECAUSE LIKE. In contrast, ORV is just sooo meticulously planned and thought out with the INTENTION of being read and being interpreted in this deeper way. Like ORV is the kind of media that like is seeing guys like me who read Naruto and being like... Okay you like that but... Didn't you Want This? And its like yes <333 thank you for having a traumatized main character who never really resolves being traumatized <3 but learns to love and be loved anyway <3 thanks <3333

Like it's like Naruto is this huge field of half extremely juicy grapes half dead ones and ORV is one really well maintained grape plant that's all Juice okay... Like I love that Kishimoto had Naruto Legit Have a panic attack but its hard for me to say whether or not Kishimoto even knows what a panic attack is its like... Do you Know About This Shit or did this just, like, happen to you man. VS singshong like definitely Know what they are doing with like the fucking disassociation aspect of the 4th wall and the way that KDJ's trauma from his childhood specifically dictates his actions in forming bonds with others as an adult and Tried to send YJH to a therapist but picked the guy who set PTSD research back by a century because of his literary clout lmaooo.

OK. Soooo that's just analysis - I think you're asking for an AU so let me try okay.

So if we're making an AU where the ORV characters do Naruto; Kim Dokja has to be Naruto, obviously. I think it's more fun for him to have the typical KDJ trauma than to be just a straight up orphan though, no offense to Naruto being an orphan I was never bored when that fucking swing showed up I was legit always psyched about it like there's that motherfucking swing again the fucking MVP the one and only Child Support in this god damned village, just because it's more true to his character you know. Then I feel like it was really always overlooked how Sakura was kind of the only person in her class who was a 1st generation ninja; as in she didn't have any clan backing and only had civilian parents... She studied on her own and then became the successor of a Sannin just through pure focus and skill and then also she performed surgery in one episode anyway <3. In my head I've extrapolated this to mean that Most kids of civillians Do Not Make Genin rank and there is like class disparity because of that in My Mind okay? Okay. Anyway if Naruto was about KDJ then I think he's the kid of two civilians who someone (Future Han Sooyoung I've decided) hid a tailed beast inside of (the fourth wall the kyubi is the fourth wall here). Same deal with his trauma except the way he killed his dad was with his tailed beast powers, cuz the fourth wall was ordered to protect him at all costs. His mom is a civilian and takes the fall for the gruesome murder so she goes to ninja prison. Wards of the State go to Ninja School I guess bc child soldier is the only life you get or whatever but KDJ isn't really motivated to become Hokage or anything like Naruto is; he just wants to live a normal life and not stand out because he's convinced there's just this Monster inside of him...

BUT here comes YJH. YJH I've decided is from a powerful clan bloodline but is also a war orphan who has been orphaned like. Multiple times. Like he has been adopted and then had his parents die and then adopted and had his new parents die and adopted and had his new parents die and- you get the picture. This is what's giving me his Regressors Depression vibes but he goes to Ninja school driven with the idea that he is going to End War because that's the only thing he has to live for; no one person took any one family from him, its just all the endless conflict makes it pointless to care about anyone at all. KDJ is like kind of uwuing side eyeing him though like because lowkey he thinks that maybe YJH is the only person who could ever really understand him (yes the naruto and sasuke equivalent). YJH keeps getting adopted bc people want to coast off his prestigous clan name; he's basically guaranteed to be Hokage one day, but he doesn't really care. In his mind he's just going to war to kill, there's no idea of Living for something for him. But like KDJ watching him finds an inspiration to live in wanting to help YJH... which mostly comes out as him trying to Compete with YJH, haha.

Then, obviously, HSY is the third of their genin team. I think that she's an heiress of a powerful clan, probably with the sort of creation/brushstroke powers that Sai has or something to do with sealing to be in line with having knowledge and kind of tied to writing... But she doesn't care about this Ninja shit at alllll. I mean, obviously she's not going to let Broody Asshole show her up in the grade results but she just wants to do her service long enough not to have her parents up her asshole about it and then pursue her passion of writing novels...

Obviously then they become a found family style genin group and their dynamics are KDJ being obsessed with YJH and HSY wanting to find out about KDJ bc he's so angsty and is into similar stuff as her but also he's obsessed with YJH which makes him a total mystery like what's wrong with him and then YJH is just like -_- what's the point of caring about these people they'll be gone soon too and then has to slowly learn that these are people who will stand by his side no matter what and are his comrades...

Then the whole thing with Orochimaru- YJH relapses and realizes that people as powerful as Orochimaru (or whatever equivalent we want to have for him IDK Asmodeus lets have it be asmodeus he's equivalently creepy) could take away his friends at a moments notice and that it's not safe to have comrades, to care about people until he's the strongest. So he refocuses on only seeking power and seeing that as the way to stop war.

Meanwhile, KDJ begins to believe that pursuing bonds, trying to understand and read the lives of others, and accumulating as many connections as possible is the way to stop war. When YJH defects he's heartbroken and will do anything to get him back, because he just wants to FORCE YJH to like sit down and let him stop All War for him.

Then with Han Sooyoung: much the same as in Cannon her connection to KDJ is stronger than her connection to YJH, and the importance of her role comes up most in the endgame. Her methodology of "stopping war" is... Time travel! When she was young Han Sooyoung was talented enough to make an advanced form of shadow clones utilizing division of her memories; she would leave one at home to write while the other had to go to school... But one day, when she got home her shadow clone was gone? So HSY's shadow clone just decided to go on a globe trotting tour of the Ninja war because "I'm just a shadow clone anyway. If I die then original me will just have gotten to see some sweet sights!" The shadow clone went on to have a life of its own and eventually comes into conflict with KDJ like in ORV... She's seeking her own end to war by... Inventing time travel? And? Making it so that war just... doesn't happen?

So she tries to go back and find like the Start of War but obviously fails to stop it conclusively and kind of loses her faith in humanity a bit because she's like Jesus Fucking Christ I basically have to commit a Genocide if I just get rid of all the fighty people. Ugh. Guess mass murder is necessary but lets do the least possible.

And then obviously since the Bijuu are the Naruto worlds' equivalent to the arms race from world war II and the post WWII state of nuclear proliferation, HSY time travels and takes control of the 4th wall equivalent kyuubi, Planning to use its powers to stop the war through force. She sees the most vulnerable point in time to grab the 4th wall some time before it's passed to that random civilian kid KDJ... How'd he end up with it anyway?

So she goes back through Kim Dokja's life as an observer at first to kind of just look for the perfect moment to strike and steal the kyubi from him but like... Then she kind of sees the Traged of KDJ. That the only thing protecting him from dying is really the Kyubi... In every fight as a genin... then when he tried to commit suicide several times... then back when his father almost beat him half to death... HSY realizes that without the Kyubi, Kim Dokja is someone who would be doomed to die no matter what; but the tailed beast always stops him. It forces him to hold on until he meets YJH and HSY and then things just get... better.

She's conflicted now, not wanting to pounce and steal the Kyubi from KDJ directly... so she goes back to before KDJ is born.

The 4th wall kyubi was in the hands of some madman who was going to blow up the village they lived in (killing everyone including HSY herself)... HSY just watches it happen at first but then she slowly realizes that no one is coming into stop this rogue jinchuuriki so she like... steps in to do it herself.

And when she extracts the kyubi it... calls her "mother"?

Apparently, in the future, HSY will go back even further in the past and Create the tailed beasts.

And she realizes it's all because she...

She can't let Kim Dokja die.

That person whose entire life she just watched...

Yeah, she would doom the entire world to eternal war just to save that one kid who sat behind her in genin school.

So she puts the kyubi into a sleeping baby Dokja and then goes back in time to invent the tailed beasts lmao. I think that's unhinged so that's why I said it. I think she deserves to be a mad scientist who does immoral things.

Anyway then like they win the great ninja war and all kiss or something IDK <3 (<-kishimoto-esque ending)

#literally I bought some trashy little walmart shorts with naruto on them the other day and im so genuinely happy about it #ALSO got one of those enamel pin surprise boxes and managed not to get sasuke which is a win for me <3 #i got the sage eyes naruto one which is like yess i love him that's my guy #Uh. I said I was going to try and keep the naruto a minimum but i think I Lied.#naruto spoilers #sigh #anon i gotta be honest here if you're tryna sweet talk me you're doing a phenomenal job #like wow you reread *twirls hair* AND you want to ask me about naruto? tee hee #orv spoilers #im not tagging long posts anymore because tumblr automatically shortens everything anyway now #don't like don't read 😤😤#ask #anonymous #if you love me at my orv but cant handle me at my naruto... lmao okay fair

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years ago

Text

Disarming (Santi x fem!reader)

Summary: you and Santi - good friends- are Best Man and Maid of Honour at Frankie’s wedding, and guess what? There’s only one bed!

What is this? This is 5/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. The prompt is “We can share a room, right? It’s only for a weekend”, requested by @woakiees. Another double trope extravaganza! Hadley, I’m so pleased you suggested Santi for this one, as he immediately came to mind when I was writing this prompt :D Thank you so much for requesting! <3

If you’d like to read/keep track of the other fics, I’m keeping an up-to-date friends to lovers list in my pinned post.

Author’s note: Apparently I get carried away EVERY time I write Santi. WHY AM I LIKE THIS?! :-/

Word count: 7.5k. I’M SO SORRY. PLEASE FORGIVE ME.

Rating: 18+ ONLY (minors out, please, do not read or interact)

Warnings: it gets angsty in the middle. Reader has nightmare- comfort offered. Mentions of reader being “hurt” in the past but vague and unspecified. They have a fight. One or two alcohol mentions- no actual consumption. Food mention. Swearing. Steam leading into smut but not explicit- mentions of masturbation, erections, making-out, one brief allusion to choking kink. Let me know if I missed anything.

Tagging: @isvvc-pvscvl @casifer-is-king (loads of the tags aren’t working :-/)

GIF: @nathan-bateman

From the first moment you met Santi, you had simply fallen into step with him. It was effortless, and so, as soon as you found yourself by his side, you stayed there. What’s more, that’s exactly where he wanted you to be.

Despite the man’s hard, no-nonsense edge -which you also appreciated- he was warm and charming. It was easy to connect with him, in a way it hadn’t often been for you. For him too - or so the boys told you - the way you surpassed his defences was a rare thing. It shouldn’t have worked, perhaps. Usually, he was slow to trust and you were quick to love, but on this occasion none of that seemed to apply, the two of you tumbling squarely into a fast-friendship; one deeper and more intense, perhaps, than its duration might suggest. Still, despite the boys’ inferences that you would quickly become an item, and Santi’s continual attempts to blur the lines between this and… something more, “friends” is what you have remained.

You had felt it immediately with him. Something different. You simply... flowed. You fit. It was immediately evident, even on that first night, in the way you orbited around one another, setting up an impromptu beer pong of all things. You moved together with a fluidity and a precision that seems almost tactical- as though you too had run countless manoeuvres in the field with him. You could read him and understand him as though you had drilled his habits and patterns and idiosyncrasies over and over; learning him. However, he was never that much effort - the two of you came naturally to each other, little learning required. You knew each other with your gut.

At that fateful party, when you each escaped to the back porch steps for some air at a serendipitous moment, the conversation had immediately flowed, and not only as a result of his natural, disarming charm. The silence even came easily rightaway – a comfortable thing, the space between you stuffed with contentment, rather than the feeling of a gaping vacuum, needlessly filled. It turned out his best friend was dating yours (the pair to be wed this very weekend) but that almost seemed like the cherry on top, rather than the thing bringing you to each other.

Safe to say, what was true then is true now. You get on so well. You find him fun and easy and generous and you love the man dearly.

…Most of the time.

Those other times, though? Santiago “Pope” Garcia can be a pain in your ass. But that’s another reason you love him, you guess. Keeps things interesting.

“Please don’t kill me,” Santi says sheepishly, and it’s obvious to you he’s laying on the charm - actively trying to be as disarming as possible as he saunters over from the reception desk. For a moment, despite all his training, he looks as though he believes you could pull it off, too.

Your annoyance is already prepped; locked and loaded, as he pads squarely towards the banquette where you are sat - amidst a sea of luggage. You’ve been observing his attempts to charm the desk clerk with interest (his efforts, you surmise, at least partially effectual), and judging from the slight level of desperation in his efforts, you can already tell he fucked up somehow.

“What did you do?” you say impatiently, even as a smile twitches at the corner of your lips.

“I booked all the rooms we needed, for all of the wedding guests, right? 13 rooms here, and all 10 at the hotel across town. 4 more in guesthouses,” he recaps. “Got Frankie and Mila a great deal too, remember?”

You remember. And yet, you fold your arms across your chest, looking up at him incredulously. Okay then. Rolling with your attitude, the man takes a different tack. He sits next to you. Smiles. Leans in. Pats your thigh. He’s trying to disarm you too, you realise. It’s going to take more than that - you’re not some flimsy desk clerk who will form a puddle and bat your eyes at the first sign of his charm.

“Well, funny story. I may have forgotten to book our rooms,” he blurts.

Oh? Oh, great. Yeah. This is a grand fuck-up. The whole damn town is booked-out. It’s a small town. No longer amused, your nostrils flare in annoyance as you tug in a slow breath, schooling your tone just a little before you speak. “You what?” Okay, you didn’t manage to school it all that much.

“Look, I already sort of fixed it,” he smooths. That explains the flirting with the clerk. Although, you think, glancing back at her. She’s pretty. That partially explains the flirting with the clerk, then, you mentally correct. “There’s just one, teeny-tiny issue.”

You raise your eyebrows and widen your eyes. Well?

“We’re gonna have to share a room.”

You blink at him a few times, in surprise. Well, it’s not ideal. For a number of reasons. But you can think of worse things, truth be told. And he’s not wrong. It is a solution. Still, on his reveal, a succession of emotions and micro-assessments are bounced back and forth between your eyes and his, until you land on resigned annoyance, exhaling a long sigh. That is, until Frankie appears in the lobby, swanning in like he’s walking on air. He probably is, given that he’s getting married this weekend. His face splits with a smile so wide you reckon it should be painful to maintain, and you stand to greet him as he heads over.

You’re glad he’s happy. It means that you and Santi, as Maid of Honour and Best man, respectively, are doing a fantastic job of deflecting all of the stress away from the happy couple. Indeed, that assessment certainly feels true – you do feel stressed. Still, the two of you immediately paint your faces with masking smiles; though, in fairness, it’s hard not to smile while looking at Frankie – his obvious joy is infectious.

Frankie wraps you both in a hug, then rubs his palms together like an excited kid. “I don’t have much time. Just gonna say a quick hello to my parents. Apparently, my mom’s already started crying? Can you two sort some extra tissues for the ceremony or something? Oh, and is everything okay with the rooms?”

“With this guy? Are you kidding?”, you say before you think, throwing your thumb towards Santi. Immediately, his eyes submit a powerful plea to you to keep schtum- it is written all over his face that he doesn’t want to let Frankie down. Not even in the smallest of ways.

Frankie would find his little error funny, probably. But he can find it funny after the ceremony. “Everything is A-OK! This guy? He has every single detail taken care of.”

Frankie grins, his eyes narrowing proudly at Santi as he slaps him on the back, laying profuse thanks on the two of you; then, he floats away again, as if on a cloud. Santi’s brown eyes are big with gratitude when you look at him again, and you can’t help but weaken. You’ll admit, it’s really not that bad of a fuck-up. Besides, you’re tired. Between the drive out here, the wedding rehearsal, and a never-ending list of errands, the day has been long. You just want to get to the room, and maybe even clock a snooze before the rehearsal dinner tonight.

“Fine,” you agree, albeit through gritted teeth. “We can share a damn room.”

Santi looks visibly relieved, and squeezes your shoulder in thanks. You’d even been nice enough not to bite his head off. “Yeah. We can share a room, right? It’s only for a weekend.” Suddenly, he doesn’t sound quite as certain.

“Sure. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?” you smile nervously.

He returns your smile and swivels, heading back towards the desk.

“Oh, wait!” you call after him. “Is it a double or a twin?” you ask in horror. Sharing a room is one thing, but sharing a bed?

He turns, looking over his shoulder. “Doesn’t matter!”, he winks. “Whatever it is, we’re gonna have to take it.”

Oh. Oh dear.

You’re inclined to agree -you don’t have many options- but when you catch yourself stealing a glance at the man’s shapely butt as he walks back to the desk, you begin to chew your bottom-lip nervously.

Right. Ha.

What could possibly go wrong?

**********************

It turns out, sharing a room with Santi is resoundingly not bad at all. In fact, at first, it’s as easy as everything else is with him - even between your hurried preparations for the evening, unpacking, shuttling items to the relevant members of the wedding party, and calling down to reception several times to check the logistics for the rehearsal dinner. Even getting dressed, you find an easy flow as you each flit in and out of the bathroom, dancing around each other with ease and only a hint of friendly bickering.

Santi’s respectful too- always knocking and announcing himself before entering a space, and averting his gaze when he needs to, given that you’re rushing around and undressing. You even manage to ignore the fact there’s only one bed for the longest time, parking that specific panic for later. Even then, he has already made reception send up extra pillows and blankets, forming a barricade in the middle of the bed so you two can comfortably separate.

Thankfully, you are so busy that the idea of sharing a bed with Santi doesn’t even cross your mind until you’re finally ready, dressed in your finery. When you step out of the bathroom, Santi -sat on the edge of said bed- stands up, thrusting his hands into his suit trousers as he takes the sight of you in, pulling the material taut -in a rather pleasing way- across his hips and thighs. He ends up slightly slack-jawed for a moment as his eyes trail over you, brewing with a gentle, self-conscious heat. “Fuck,” he says softly, his voice gruff. “You look…” a little gulp trails down his throat as you give him a little twirl. “…hot”, he says, his eyebrow ticking up on the last beat.

“Wait until you see my bridesmaid dress,” you smile, and he returns it easily, those gorgeous creases appearing around his eyes.

Unconsciously, you lick your lips. You can’t help but wonder, vaguely, what it would be like to push him down on to the mattress. Maybe straddle him. Fuck, you should have known this would be a bad idea. A heat rising in your face at that thought of that, you distract yourself by lifting his suit jacket from the back of the chair, holding it out for him as he slips it on to his shoulders, and feeling the luxurious texture of it beneath your fingers.

It’s a grey suit, tailored, and it hugs him in all the right places. The cool colour is perfect against his warm-toned brown skin, and brings out the salt in his salt-and-pepper curls, and in the rough rasp of grey flecked through his stubble.

You try desperately not to notice how good he looks, but this may be your greatest challenge yet.

“Come on,” you encourage, nodding towards the door. “We better head down.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, half-heartedly. The way his eyes are subtly roving over you, though, he looks like he has something entirely different in mind for dinner.

“You’re probably going to spend all night being chased by the single bridesmaids,” you add casually as you collect your purse, and apply a final dab of lipstick in front of the mirror. You’ve already clocked a few members of the wedding party eyeing him up, and you don’t exactly blame them for being thirsty. Besides, Santi is a huge flirt; so perhaps he’ll be the one doing the chasing. You wouldn’t be surprised if he ended the night with his tongue thrust deep in someone’s throat, which -you assume- is typical Santi fashion.

“Isn’t it traditional, anyway,” he smirks cheekily, applying a splash of cologne, “for the Best Man to hook-up with one of the bridesmaids?”

Lord, does he have to smell so… edible.

“Got news for you, man. You fucked up. You can’t exactly bring a girl back to your room now, can you?!” you tease, nodding back towards your shared bed, a wall of pillows already arranged down the middle. You mean it to come out in good-humour, but you can’t scrub the hint of jealousy from your tone entirely.

You feel so silly for being jealous of whomever he may hook-up with. After all, Santi is always the one testing the boundaries of friendship with you. It’s not like he’s ever made a secret of the fact he’s attracted to you- and you are the one here will a firm line in the sand. A line you simply won’t cross with him. Can’t cross. You want to - of course you do, but after being hurt in the past, you have simply built-up far too many defences; or, more accurately, just the right amount of defences, you think, to protect you. So, no matter how disarming the man is, you simply have to keep your guard up; because if he breached your walls, you know everything else would come tumbling so easily down.

You had fallen so easily into friendship with him, and you are certain that you would fall just as recklessly in love with him.

You’re not ready for that.

You can’t take being hurt again. Besides; Santi? He’s an incredible friend. He’s tenaciously loyal and dedicated to his squad. But when it comes to love, and sex, you doubt whether serious is even his thing - and you’re too afraid to ask.

“You ready to do this?” he asks, with a wink.

“Yep,” you nod. “Let’s roll,” and with that, you turn, heading for the hallway.

“Princesa- that dress really highlights your ass,” he praises as he tags along behind you.

“Thank you, it’s true,” you smile devilishly, already beginning to let your guard down, just a little. He’s simply so disarming. “Speaking of, Garcia – did you get your trousers a size too small on purpose?”

“Oh, you noticed?” he retorts, smugly, guiding you through the door with a hand on the small of your back.

Okay. Sometimes you flirt back. After all – look at him.

Especially in that damn suit.

***********************************

The rehearsal dinner goes swell. Frankie and Mila are a picture-perfect, loved-up couple, and they grin their way through the evening as if they slept with coat hangers in their mouths. The speeches are well-received, including Will’s, thus setting a high bar for you and Santi tomorrow. (You may be biased, but Santi’s is ten times funnier, and it’s going to kill, in your opinion.) There are no dramas through the evening- logistical or familial, and thanks to you and Santi overseeing everything with a military precision, it looks as though -so far- it is shaping up to be the perfect wedding weekend.

Finally, once your duties are over for the night, you are able to let your hair down a little, so to speak, and enjoy the food and company on offer. Still, with a big day ahead tomorrow, things wind down relatively early, and -having lost track of Santi at some point- you find yourself back at the shared room a little while before him. You usually burn out more quickly than he does in social situations, but even taking that into consideration, you begin to fret about where he has gotten to. With the way he was flirting his way through the party, though, it doesn’t take a genius to guess what (or who) might be keeping him up.

You try to sleep but you can’t, your mind going to the worst places, so, by the time Santi does return -softly cracking the door, and padding in with his shoes in his hands so as not to wake you- you have stewed in your own thoughts long enough to have become a little cranky. A little… green-eyed.

“Hey,” he greets in surprise when he enters, immediately noticing the soft lamp glow, and seeing you still sitting up in the bed, mindlessly watching the flicker of the tv on mute.

“Hey,” you return, your voice noticeably strained. “Have a fun time?” You find yourself wishing you weren’t sharing a room, then you wouldn’t have to know what he got up to.

“Yeah,” he replies softly, slipping off his jacket and laying it over the back of a chair. “Did you? How come you’re still up? Thought for sure you’d be wiped out by now.”

So, he did think of you, then?

“Couldn’t sleep,” you reply neutrally, fixing your eyes dead ahead as he begins to slip out of his trousers and shirt too, until he’s dressed in only his tight black boxers. Next, he takes off his watch and sets it at the bedside, and you notice that he smells of perfume. A cloying, floral scent that makes you feel a little sick.

“Just gonna have a quick shower and then I’ll slip in with you, okay?” he says, his voice slow and deep and muted, matching the soft light.

You still don’t look at him. You can’t.

“Do what you want. You usually do,” you bite, the words tasting bitter as soon as they have left your lips, and tears of regret pooling as your anger dissolves.

You don’t blame him if he was with someone – you really don’t. You’re simply angry at yourself; because you wish you could be that person, and you can’t for the life of you seem to find a way.

“Okay. What was that for?” he bristles, reacting defensively, turning towards you. And perhaps it’s because it’s late and he’s tired, or because certain demons feel safer coming out under the cover of darkness, but he doesn’t stop there. Especially when all he gets from you is a stony, pointed silence. “You know what? Actually, no. You don’t get to do this”, he hisses, and it is the first time you’ve ever heard him direct any genuine anger at you.

It doesn’t half sting.

“Do what?” you ask, but you already know the answer.

“You don’t get to be mad when I give my attention to someone who actually wants it,” his voice is hushed, but his words rattle through you as if he had yelled them. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Guess what, I’m not yours.”

“That’s not fair”, you snap back, and then things are quickly escalating.

“Isn’t it?” he asks, rasping a hand over his stubble in distress. “I mean, come on. Shit. You know that I want more but I…” he exhales a disgruntled laugh. “You shoot me down, which is your prerogative, honestly, but you can’t have it both ways. You can’t knock me back all the time and then be pissed off when I look elsewhere.”

You meet his face, the planes of it shadowed and angled harshly with anger, suddenly so unfamiliar to you, and it causes your eyes to bloom with tears. You two look the opposite of Frankie and Mila; of a picture-perfect couple. But you’re not even a couple at all, are you?

You see him try. To blunt the emotion which is bubbling up. To soften. But he has uncorked something he now can’t put back in. “Fuck, I just wish that….” he pinches his lips together and shakes his head, planting his hands on his hips and looking at the floor. “If you don’t want me, just put me out of my fucking misery. Just say it. Just fucking tell me.”

Your heart shatters into a thousand pieces at the thought you make him miserable. At the way his voice breaks. At the way he thinks you don’t want him. Maybe you were wrong, thinking that you could be friends at all. Thinking that could be enough for him.

Your lower lip trembles, and your fingers clutch the edge of the blanket. “I… I can’t tell you that. I can’t tell you that I don’t want you, Santi.”

You can’t because it isn’t true. It could not be further from the truth, in fact.

He puffs out air, an exasperated sound, his hand raising up to tangle in his grizzled curls. Raising his voice a little more. “Let me guess. You can’t tell me the other thing either?”

“I.. I..” You try, but no words will come. You simply shake your head, swallowing a sob, your eyes almost brimming over.

He nods. He nods, his mouth slanted down. “Great. Got it,” he huffs.

You hate this. You hate how much you’re hurting him.

“Santi,” you breathe weakly, but it is too weak to blunt the force of his emotion. To halt his trajectory, and so, resigned, he turns towards the bathroom, grabbing-up a fresh white towel from the counter. Before he closes the door, he turns to you once more, now speaking softly, his eyes as sad as yours. “You know,” he says, his index finger sawing back-and-forth over the stubble at his chin. “For the record, I wasn’t with anyone else. I can’t even fucking think about anyone else but you. I was late back to the room because I couldn’t face it.” His voice becomes small and pained. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to just curl up next to you and act like I don’t care.” His eyebrow ticks up, and he adds, with a final flourish. “Guess I should have taken a lesson from you.”

Oh, how it stings, pain flowering in your chest like a bruise, but you hold yourself together until he’s out of sight. Then, when he’s gone, you immediately cave in on yourself, falling on to your side and screwing your eyes shut, clamping your hand over your mouth so that he can’t hear you crying as wet tears spill onto your pillow.

When he comes back into the room, after a long shower, you simply screw your eyes shut and pretend to be asleep. You hear him sigh heavily, and mumble something to himself under his breath, before dragging a few pillows and a spare blanket down on to the floor.

A few more silent tears roll over the bridge of your nose.

You guess you wouldn’t be sharing a bed with him after all.

***********************

You wake panicked in the night, sitting bolt upright in the bed. A cold wash of sweat over your skin chills you, even though you feel like you’re burning-up.

Immediately, you reach for him, for Santi, calling his name even as your fear strangles the sound in your throat. Your heart is thudding, and your breaths are sawing in and out of you, but your grasping hands find nothing to your side but pillows and blanket.

Unfortunately, you are used to this occurrence, and you quickly realise it was “only” a nightmare. Still, the feelings and images it conjured linger in your body, and around you in the shifting, seemingly fluid shadows of the room.

With a release of tension, you whimper, leaning forward and cradling your head in your trembling hands, and you try to ground yourself. To steady your breath and your heartbeat, like you’ve practiced. As you do so, the shadows to your left shift and change, and, even in the pitch-black you can feel him, a safe and warm presence, instantly travelling to your side, his weight dipping the mattress. His soothing, sandy voice filtering through the shadows and cutting back the tendrils of your nightmare like a Disney prince hacking through cursed vines.

You vaguely remember that he’s mad at you - but you can’t help it. Can’t help asking. “Hold me?” you plead, desperately afraid that he won’t.

Still, without questions or hesitation, you feel the wall of remaining pillows coming down, the defences around you quite literally being dismantled – a figurative wall between you shifting away along with it. He shushes you, and you focus on his voice, until he is close enough that the scent of him wraps around you, before his arms follow closely after.

You reach for him in return. You reach for him in every way possible.

“It’s just a nightmare,” he soothes. “I’m here, baby. I’ve got you,” and there is pain in his voice on your behalf, as if he tries to bear the burden of it for you.

“Closer,” you plead, and before you know it, he is shifting you on to your side, slotting his sturdy yet soft body around you, not caring that you feel clammy and hot against his bare skin. He simply loops his arms and draws your back, closer to his chest, becoming your big spoon.

He calms you, hands enveloping yours and bundling them against your chest, his nose nuzzling into your hair, and his deep steady breaths slowing your breathing as you let his calm and his rhythms overcome you. He holds you, until the feelings pass, not caring how long it takes – and with any anger from before apparently forgotten.

This pain is all too familiar to him, you know. It something that Santi understands. It is your own and it is not the same as his, true, but you know it is familiar enough that he will feel the ache of it echoing in his own chest. You know that he is accustomed enough to bearing his own pain, that when yours is too heavy to carry, he will help you hold it for a while. And so, he holds you, while you are a tender thing, bruised and afraid, and he keeps you safe; with all your walls down, all of your defences collapsed, he becomes your fortress.

You never thought that letting yourself be so vulnerable could allow you to feel quite as safe as this.

As you lie together, Santi continues to usher soft reassurances into your ear, his words like charms and incantations to ward off the ghosts which haunt you. And, after a series of slow, stretched moments, you become more settled, and Santi feels you relax against him.

After a few moments more, he eventually whispers a small question into your hair. In the dark, the question feels safe to come out, perhaps.

“Do you always call for me when you…?” he trails off, thinking better of it. “I’m sorry- forget it, you don’t have to answer that.”

You don’t. You know you don’t. You don’t even truthfully know the answer. It’s likely that you do call for him, though how would you know, when you’re usually alone? But, there is something else you can tell him, while it is safe to come out in the dark. Something you want to tell him, before you build your walls all the way back up.

“Santi,” you begin, timidly, and his fingers skim softly up and down your arms, encouraging you to go on. “I-I’ve been hurt before. And, I want to be with you. I want to let you in but… I’m. I’m not ready. I’m trying so hard but I… I can’t.”

There is a long beat, and you realise he has held in a breath only when he releases it all at once, fanning hot across the back of your neck.

You are afraid. Afraid of what he might say, in response – what he might feel, but you think, maybe, it might be something like relief? And, Santi squeezes you, just a little tighter. A little closer. “Don’t worry about that now, okay?” he soothes, his voice feather soft. “Just… know one thing, okay, Princesa? Whenever you are ready? I’m waiting.”

This time your heart fills with a different emotion, all the spaces in it flooded with contentment, Santi’s words followed by a perfect, happy silence.

A soft smile blooms on your face.

It was not a confession of waiting impatiently, you understand, but an invitation to take your time to arrive at him. He’s not trying to bring down your defences at all, is he? He’s waiting for you to open the door, and invite him in. He’s waiting until you are ready. He simply needed to know that you are on your way, even if your footsteps are getting you there slowly.

For now, though, the thought of it is too much. More than you’re ready for.

So, you simply let him hold you.

To disarm you further.

To walk yourself a little closer toward where you want to be. With him; by his side.

****************************************

In the morning, you wake up tangled around each other, Santi’s arm wrapped securely around your back and your head settled on his chest. He is still snoring lightly – cutely - when you awake, and so, as the night prior comes flooding back to you, you hastily try to extricate yourself from him; even if his bare skin feels so good against yours that you never want to move. You’re apparently not so subtle- or he’s a helluva light-sleeper – as, just when you pull away, Santi wakes up, quickly rushing to prove his innocence.

“You had a nightmare,” he croaks, still trying to peel his eyes open. “You asked me to- “.

“-I know. I remember,” you reassure, sitting up in bed, the blankets tugged to your chest. Santi shuffles, opting to assume the same position on his own side, mirroring you, rubbing his eyes.

You’re still not sure whether to apologise to him or thank him. Or maybe even to wait for an apology from him? Christ. Maybe all of those things or none of them, who even knows? You mentally spin a wheel and land on a casual “Uh. Thank you, for…. You know.”

“Anytime,” he says, turning his head to the side and looking at you earnestly. As if your bickering -your jealousy and his outburst- is all but forgotten. What’s more, you know that he means it.

Admiringly, your eyes wander over him, enjoying a side of him you’ve never quite seen before. Apparently, he’s even more handsome in the morning, with an even thicker, darkened brush of stubble, his grizzled curls dishevelled, and his swooping eyelids still heavy from sleep. Combined, it gives him a sultry, bedroom look. Feeling an involuntary rush of heat in the pit of you, your gaze drops to his corded neck, where, given the special occasion, he has substituted his dog tags for a silver chain, drawing your gaze down over his smooth, brown chest.

Your skin now cooling in the conditioned air of the room, you long for his body heat again, recalling how it felt to be held by him and wishing you had lingered a little longer while you could. Even with your interrupted sleep last night, you have somehow woken feeling refreshed, as though you had slept unreasonably deeply in his arms, reaching a whole new level of contentment - as though you just fit together, perhaps. As though it comes naturally for you to be held by him, and for him to hold you.

There is a silence and it isn’t awkward exactly; more… pregnant, with possibilities. Possibilities you see brewing with a gentle heat in his eyes. So, tearing yourself abruptly away from that line of thought, you lift your phone up from the nightstand, and note that there isn’t long before your alarms sound anyway.

Operation Wedding Day is go.

That should be enough of a distraction for you, shouldn’t it?

“You ready for this, Best Man?” you ask him, with a gentle quirk of your lips.

“Sure. Are you ready, Maid of Honour?”

Ready. Are you ready?

Thoughts of last night swirl in your head.

Well – as Santi flashes you a tentative, disarming smile, with hooded eyes, you certainly feel like you’re getting there. Like soon you could be ready.

“Sure. Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Atta girl,” he encourages, folding his arms behind his head as you jump out of bed.

You suddenly don’t care that you’re in nothing but your underwear, as you stretch out your body and track towards the bathroom. “I’ll shower first?”

“We’re sharing a bed,” he teases. “Sure you don’t want to share a shower too?”

You scoff, flashing a mischievous smile right back at him. You’ve always had a soft spot for his flirting, but you feel like -after all that transpired last night- you truly see if for what it is now. You realise why it has never felt like he’s pressuring you - not once. He’s simply reminding you, that as soon as you call for him, he’ll be there. That he’s waiting, when you’re ready.

Reminding you, that as soon as your walls drop, he’ll be your fortress.

“I don’t think you’re gonna get quite that lucky this morning, Garcia.”

You do linger in the doorway, just a little longer than necessary though, so that he can get a better look at you. He’d never look without permission – he proved that yesterday, when you were in various states of disarray- but this time, sensing your invitation, his eyes graze over you slowly, keenly. So, when he strategically moves his hands from behind his head to hide the tenting covers, you don’t mind at all.

You smile devilishly as you slip into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. You’re not sure if he will… take care of himself out in the room – how could you know? But, feeling inspired, you certainly do so in the shower, and it’s a pretty great wake-up call before you face the wedding day.

Maybe sharing a room isn’t so bad. Maybe you could even get used to it.

*********************************************

Frankie and Mila get hitched without a hitch.

Santi goes to the ends of the earth to make sure that Frankie has the best day possible- and at some points, he goes even further than that. His speech was moving and flawless, and pretty fucking funny; even if you are a little (or a lot) biased. Not a dry eye in the house, just as you predicted.

The man adores Frankie with his whole heart, and you could barely hold back the glow of admiration as you listened to him, feeling like it might burst from your chest like a beam of gold sunlight. You felt it especially strongly every time his eyes met yours during the course of the speech, and you couldn’t help but smile yourself stupid each time he did so. And, of course, you were overjoyed to see your best friend have the day of her dreams, with the man of her dreams. If you do say so yourself, you think your speech was pretty killer too.

Suffice to say, you ate until your belly was full, loved until your heart hurt, laughed until your sides ached, and danced until your feet ached.

Tonight, unlike last night, you and Santi retire to your shared room at the same time, your arm linked into his, and your shoes carried in your hand to spare your sore feet – there’s a reason you never normally wear shoes like this. Without your heels though, you keep tripping over the hem of your dress almost every few paces, causing you to giggle and Santi to steady you with a warm, rich chuckle, sometimes throwing you an extra hand to assist you.

You look over at him, furtively, as he recounts some of the more choice moments from the day, immensely enjoying the simple pleasure of hearing him talk and smile and laugh. Seeing him happy. Of course, enjoying how he looks too, you have to admit - even more handsome than he did yesterday (somehow) in midnight blue dress pants, and a white, crisp shirt, now tieless. He’s only grown sexier as the evening drew on too, now with a wide open-collar and rolled up sleeves to accommodate all of the dancing; or, at least, as much dancing as his knees could handle, until he’d simply opted to sit to the side and watch you boogie, his eyes apparently transfixed on you and only you - the advances of the other bridesmaids be damned.

There is something that hits different about the way he looked at you today. His admiration shining deeper than usual. Less like a casual lust, and more like something… serious. You’re not sure why you doubted it before, exactly. Why you have been so inordinately afraid that he might hurt you. You broadly figured him for a smash and dash type of man, which is fine, but you have every reason to believe that he wants more with you.

After all, Santi can be deeply and tenaciously loyal. He has dedicated himself to things deeply and unwaveringly several times over in his life. To his country, to his missions, to his morals, to his squad. And there’s something about the way he looked at you today, you think, that suggests he might dedicate himself to you with the same tenacity. Something far deeper than appreciating how you look in this bridesmaid dress (and oh boy do you look hot). It’s more like the way he looks at Frankie. A little different to that, obviously. But you’re realising he looks at you like he’d never let you down. Not even in the smallest of ways. Like he’d rather go to the ends of the earth -or beyond- than do that.

At least… you think so.

You are sure about one thing though. The way he looks at you? It’s thoroughly disarming.

And so, you arrive at your shared room, utterly wiped out from the day (and night), yet still somehow buzzing with an energy. A gentle suffusing heat under your skin as you watch Santi walk inside and kick off his shoes at the end of the bed, before turning back towards you.

You have entered a few paces behind him, after nearly tripping on your gown all over again by the door, but now, you are quite steady on your feet - aside from that slight, nervous tremble in your quaking legs as he looks at you like that. As Santi looks you up and down, eyes skimming over the contours of your dress and hence everywhere it hugs your figure. Evidently, he likes what he sees.

“Wow,” he breathes, his brown eyes shining as if he’s looking at you for the first time that day, even if his gaze has barely left you all night. “I know it’s the bride’s day, but you look fuckin’ smokin’, sweetie.”

“You think so?” you ask humbly, suddenly feeling unreasonably shy. Flustered even.

“Yeah. I think so,” he nods, positively certain. “Shit, you’re so beautiful.”

You look at him. You look at him in a way which suggests an answer in your eyes instead of a question. A clear intention in your body, instead of uncertainty. But he doesn’t push you. He doesn’t assume. He doesn’t make a move. Instead, his mouth tugs up into a lopsided smile, offering you a lazy flash of teeth, and he shoves his thumbs into his belt loops.

“Well, we’re officially off the clock now, so I’m calling it. Well done, Maid of Honour. Think we nailed it? Made a pretty damn good team?”

A smile lights your face. You did. You flowed. You fit. It was easy.

Fuck. It feels so easy. Why had you ever thought this would be hard?

You nibble on your lip, eyeing him with intention, and a hard swallow trails down his throat in response.

“Off the clock, hmm?” you say breathily. “No more titles or duties? Huh. That’s a real shame.”

“How so?” he asks, his eyes devouring you alive, but his body fixed resolutely in place. Transfixed to the spot.

“Because it’s traditional for the Best Man to get with one of the bridesmaids, isn’t it?”

A slow, disbelieving smile inches over his face, and he looks at his feet, a little bashful. “Gross tradition. Kinda sexist,” he says, and your gaze fixates on his full, curving lips. On his hands, poised and broad at his belt.

“So, you don’t want to make out then?” you ask in your most sultry voice, mere breath.

The man huffs out a quick, broken exhale. “Fuck me. You know I do, sweetie. But only if you’re ready.”

Ready. Are you ready?

“Santiago,” you say, with conviction, your eyes dancing between his. “I’m ready.”

Santi searches your face one last time, just to be certain. He’s sure, of course – has been for a long time, but he needs to know that you truly want this. That you want this now. So, he looks at you, and he finds nothing but permission. Even so, after so long, he still can’t quite believe it. He would go to the ends of the earth to keep you safe – or beyond – and, so dammit, he will ask you again.

“C-can I..” he begins, and his voice already sounds choked; hollowed out with need. “Fuck, Princesa, can I kiss you?”

Too long. Too long without moving. Without touching. Too long.

If you were suddenly ready, his kiss becomes even more suddenly overdue.

“You’d better,” you encourage, feeling like vapour. “Unless you want me to do it first.”

With permission granted, you expect him to be on you, with a surge. All at once. But Santi has been patiently waiting for you long enough. He can wait just a little longer, and, when he subtly tips his chin up, ever so slightly, and when he near growls “come here then, honey,” somehow, it is perfect. Somehow, it is a thousand times hotter that he makes you come to him.

You lift the hem of your dress, and you pad delicately towards him, feeling like you are wading through molten honey to get to him, the air thick and sweet.

“That’s it. Come here, baby,” he encourages, with a curl of his index finger beckoning you to him, his voice curling in the pit of you, making you feel weak in the best way possible. Making you feel spent before he’s even done so much as brush you with his hand or his lips.

You close the remaining distance with your steps, the anticipation too much, and your legs feeling so weak from the reckless lust and the light, liquid softness in his eyes. By this point, you are begging for his arms to reach out and clasp you- to hold you up; make you secure and safe in him. You are begging for his lips to sink down on to yours. But he makes you wait, through a few more slow, stretched moments. Makes you inch your mouth closer and closer until your lips are almost skimming his. He makes you wait until you are moaning his name into the air before he has even touched you.

“Santi.”

And, if there’s one thing you know for sure, it’s that when you call for him, he is always there to take care of you.

You know he will take care of you.

With that, his name a plea, he swoops his broad, large hand up until he is holding you, his fingers closing around your jaw and your throat, trailing down your neck. His touch is painfully gentle, but in a way that makes you want him to squeeze, a little harder. In a way that makes you push yourself ever so subtly into his hand. A way that draws a silken moan from deep in your chest, and Santi is moved to dip the pad of his thumb into your mouth, where it meets your wet and willing warmth. When your tongue skims him, humming as you taste his saltiness, that seems to be the final straw, a wrecked groan sounding from his throat, and finally he surges on to your lips, leading with his tongue, thrusting into your open mouth and drinking down every sound and moan he can draw from you, his stubble rough against you. You don’t care if he leaves you raw.

It’s tender, and it’s gentle, but Santi knows all about control, and you can tell he’s holding back. His hands are lethal, and he knows just how to kill you softly; but, you are certain, that if you want more of his power, he’ll give it to you. That he’ll take care of you however you like.

So, he kisses you more deeply, harder, and you go near limp against him until one of his arms wraps at the back of your head and one at the small of your back, making you feel a feeble thing, waning in his arms as his large hands support you. Except; you’re not feeble though. You’re not by a long shot, and you know exactly what you want.

“Santi,” you suspire, letting him walk you back against the wall, pressing his bulging arousal into you as more wrangled sounds and little grunts slip from his parted lips.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks, already sounding wrecked for you.

“There’s only one shower. Wanna share?!”

Even as he releases an endlessly eager, disbelieving breath, his eyes keenly search your face, checking you are ready. He watches, enraptured, as your lips curl into a deliciously sinful smile.

“You know. We don’t have to rush this,” he insists, even as he shivers with need, closing his eyes and biting his lip when you angle your hips to brush the tenting bulge at his crotch, ever so fleetingly, his hips bucking into you immediately in pursuit of more pressure.

“I know,” you say coolly, your body an undercurrent of frenzy, but your mind calm and sure. You push him back, with your palms to his chest, making room for you to about-turn into the bathroom, shimmying off your dress as you go and letting it waft to the floor like a sigh. Looking at him over your shoulder, with lust-blown eyes, you leave Santi stood there, entirely dumbfounded, as you reveal all of yourself to him.

You retreat, but once the water is running you call out to him, wondering where he has got to. “Take a hint, Garcia. If you’re ready? I’m waiting.”

And, he doesn’t waste another second before joining you.

THE END

(BONUS: Outfit inspo, if you wanna imagine him in the suits a lil better 😉)

#santiago garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

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