#because it was the first thing i've felt even remotely good about

[brain-rot-central]

I appreciate the tags for snippet Sundays and wip Wednesdays. I see them and I appreciate you thinking of me. I've just been suffering from horrible embarrassment at myself over everything I write lmao

[ssa-dado]

The Metaphysics of Love - SOS

Aaron Hotchner x fem!bau!reader Genre: fluffy fluff, sapiosexual fluff and - brace yourself - SOFT SMUT LET'S GO SPICY GOYALS!!! Summary: On a rare day off, you planned a quiet morning for Aaron's birthday. But he surprised you instead, taking over the kitchen revealing one of his hidden talents. Caught between banter and intimate teasing, you both savored the depth of your connection, blending banter and desire. One thing is certain though, luck is never by your side. Warnings: +18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, or at least do out of your parents' sight - SEX, ORAL SEX ALLUDED (fem receiving because we live in a patriarchal society, we deserve it), lots of dirty talk. Aaron 'how am I a whore' Hotchner, he's just a whore. Word Count: 8.8k Dado's Corner: So, this is the first remotely sexual thing I've ever written. I love reading some good ol' smut, but for some reason, I cringe a lot while writing it. It took me excruciatingly long. I don't know what I'm doing; I don't even know if it's any good or even half-decent - let me know? AAAAA I'm very insecure about this and on posting it eheheheh life is fun isn't it? Is it even smut? Who knows. I need theraphy after this.

masterlist

Greek philosopher Plato wrote, “If only there were a way to start a city or an army made up of lovers. Theirs would be the best possible system of society, for they would hold back from all that is shameful, and seek honor in each other’s eyes.”

On rare days off, there was one thing you allowed yourself unapologetically: to be entirely unproductive.

You took these days like a blessing, where sleeping in was less a luxury and more a necessity - a chance to let your mind drift, to refuse the call to be anything more than just here, in this restful solitude.

And when Aaron came over the night before, both of you embraced that same ritual.

It felt almost like a paradox that two people so fiercely devoted to the relentless precision of your work - two minds honed to confront humanity’s darkest edges, always willing to answer the call, no matter how ungodly the hour - could find such deep, sweet solace in those private mornings together.

Days when, for once, you weren’t bending yourselves to crises or sacrificing the next moment’s peace to duty.

You and Aaron, who could spend hours in a rare, intellectual love, a bond built on respect, shared virtues, and an admiration for the other’s mind, a connection that didn’t rely on words, but on understanding each other’s essence.

Yet when the door was closed and the world locked out, all that intellectual reverence between you replaced by something untamed, something driven by pure, aching desire.

The slide of his hands over you felt reverent yet urgent, mapping each line and curve as though rediscovering familiar territory for the first time.

Each kiss, each touch held the thrill of exploration, a deliberate pace that turned gentle caresses into an unspoken plea. The way he whispered your name, his breath hot against your ear, sending sparks down your spine as he drew you closer, as if he could never be close enough.

In that bed, the world ceased to exist, its demands fading into oblivion as you lost yourselves in each other’s bodies, moving and meeting in rhythm, a silent language spoken only between you.

You felt his every shift, every unhurried stroke, savoring the taste of his skin, his weight, the feel of his hand tangled in your hair.

Every time his hands began their journey over you, it was as if he were memorizing you anew, mapping each curve with a reverence that made every touch feel essential. The way his lips would trace a languid, heated path down your neck, over your collarbone, and linger to each of your breasts, then lower to your stomach – always precise, always teasing, always patient.

Each time, he would pause with that infuriating, electrifying smirk, glancing up at you just as his mouth left warm, wet trails along the delicate skin of your inner thigh, each mark a whispered claim, each gentle bite igniting a spark of wild, irrational hunger.

Then, he’d slow, letting his touch turn soft, his movements deliberate, every kiss a careful mark of possession as he inched closer, closer, until he hovered right where you burned for him most.

The warmth of his breath brushed against your skin, stirring an ache that felt endless - and yet he always held back, drawing out each second to a tantalizing, almost torturous eternity.

Time itself seemed to dissolve, stretched and redefined by his restraint, bending beneath his control until it became something ungraspable, a vast chasm of unfulfilled need. In that suspended tension, everything beyond the heat of his touch blurred and faded, the world reduced to the exquisite ache of his nearness.

Every nerve felt poised on the brink, strung tight between the agony of waiting and the edge of release. It was an ache that deepened with every restrained second, until every part of you ached for him to finally give in - to end the slow, maddening tease and take you over the edge you so desperately craved, to just let you combust.

Every time, you knew there was no getting out of that bed.

But today, you needed to try.

Today was Aaron’s birthday.

It was his tenth birthday as your partner.

His second as your boss.

His first as… your boyfriend.

The word still felt novel, strange to say aloud, as if acknowledging it might make it slip away. Months in, and it hadn’t yet lost its surreal sweetness. So, despite already knowing he would brush it off, you wanted this day to be special.

Not big, not loud, just enough to quietly tell him how much he meant to you.

And how much you loved him.

He had given up on his own birthdays long ago, weighed down by the memories of being called away, the guilt of leaving pieces of himself with every mile, the reason of the failure of his marriage, the strain of missing out on Jack’s moments he could never relive.

But you knew his aversion went even deeper than guilt and regret.

Because Aaron Hotchner, the man whose presence could command a room with a single look, who possessed a physical authority in his stature, his voice, and his steely gaze, was nothing like that in private.

In his job, he could pull strings in hidden places, command respect from even the most powerful, yet, in private, Aaron Hotchner was anything but the center.

He instinctively yielded that space to others, always giving, forever considering his own worth secondary to his duty. For him, the spotlight was an obligation, a necessity he wore well, but not one he sought.

He instead lived with an unshakable humility that, in his own mind, made him unworthy of the small graces most would take for granted.

He was the center for so many others, to let the world turn around him, even for a day, felt almost undeserved.

This was the man you loved.

The man who, in every part of his life, had chosen to orbit around others rather than himself.

But today, you wanted to change that.

If there was one battle you were determined to win, it was this one: slowly chipping away at Aaron’s stubborn sense of self-denial, proving to him that he deserved the care and quiet adoration he so freely gave everyone else.

You’d make it your mission, spoiling him however you could in those rare, fleeting moments he allowed.

Especially today.

Today, you wanted everything to be about him.

You wanted him to let you give him a birthday that revolved solely around him, a celebration in the purest sense of the word.

So, you concocted a plan.

One of your more mischievous fool-proof “evil” plans, as you’d call them.

You’d set your weekday alarm to go off at an ungodly hour, sacrificing your own precious sleep for a just cause. When the alarm blared, you’d pretend it was a simple mistake, and then, under the guise of getting some water, slip out of bed.

Now, Aaron, being Aaron, would try to keep his eyes open, struggling to wait for you to come back to bed, but you were betting on his recent run of sleepless nights to wear him down. He’d have no choice but to let sleep drag him back under.

And while he slept, you’d slip into the kitchen to bake him a birthday cake, filling the apartment with the warm, sugary smell of freshly baked sweets.

But not just any sweets - because Aaron’s idea of a “sweet tooth” was as delightfully twisted as the man himself.

He liked desserts that weren’t cloying, desserts that had just the right balance of sugar and subtlety. You’d stocked up on his favorite ingredients earlier in the week, quietly stashing them away like a stealthy confectionary hoarder.

You wanted the process to take time, to show him that he was worth the hours of sacrificed sleep, that he was worth the care poured into each meticulous step.

Call it love.

You could picture it perfectly, or at least you thought you could: the early morning quiet, just you in your cozy sanctuary, stealing away precious minutes of peace to bake for the one person who had come to mean more to you than anyone else in the world.

You’d sneak out of bed and create something special, something full of quiet love. That was the plan, the picture you’d carefully composed in your mind.

But reality had other plans.

Because, instead, you woke up alone, which wouldn’t have been unusual months ago, back when solitude was your morning routine. But lately, you’d grown a little too used to waking up next to Aaron, finding him there in those rare, lazy mornings, seeing his face softened by sleep.

So, yes, waking up without him startled you.

And that wasn’t the strangest part.

But what truly threw you off was the unfamiliar noise that filled your apartment – the sounds foreign and unexpected, loud and unmistakably upbeat.

Music.

Not just any music, but the kind that seemed plucked from a pop radio station’s Top 30 - those catchy, bubblegum-sweet songs that played over and over, each one sounding like a new but familiar hit. You recognized the song immediately, a few of its lyrics sneaking into your consciousness.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone…”

The music filled the entire space, and the distinct melody grew louder as you slowly pulled yourself out of bed. You quickly washed up, threw on Aaron’s shirt - somehow conveniently draped over the chair beside your bed from last night - and crept toward the source, trying to make sense of the scene awaiting you.

The closer you got, the louder the music became, and as you moved down the hall, another noise reached your ears. A full octave lower, slightly offbeat tune, blending into the chorus.

You stopped.

This new melody was unmistakable - a deep, familiar voice humming along.

You rounded the corner, holding your breath as you peeked around the door frame, and there he was: standing at the counter, 6’2” of pure FBI stoicism, humming and even softly singing along to Taylor Swift’s “Love Story” as he flipped pancakes, completely absorbed, almost…at peace.

Aaron, your Aaron, was singing.

And he was singing on key, to a Taylor Swift song, of all things.

This was Aaron “blues and classic rock” Hotchner, the man who’d first revealed he could play the guitar with quiet pride, a piece of his world he’d shown you like an offering.

This was the man who once played you a perfect riff from Eric Clapton’s “Layla” to win a bet, who could talk about the origins of every Beatles riff and knew exactly which blues chord matched which heartbreak.

You’d seen him pour himself into those riffs and solos, even negotiate an occasional strum in exchange for something even as stupid as a kiss or him asking you to sing along. That was thrilling enough, it was something special he shared with you, revealing his private passion for music.

You’d always thought he kept his own voice hidden somewhere deep.

You’d gone a decade without hearing it and almost expected never to, half-convinced he didn’t even know how to sing. If he did, it was probably as flat as his deadpan humor.

Yet here he was, in his element - or maybe in your element - singing along, his voice low and smooth, threading into the melody as if he’d been doing it all his life.

He wasn’t putting on a show, no spoon-as-microphone dramatics, no fake dance moves. Just the smallest tilt of his head in time with the music, his voice like his presence - restrained, yet always intentional. It was almost as if he was singing to keep himself company, like he’d done this a hundred times over, alone.

It was strange, maybe surreal, to see Aaron singing the words to one of the most unabashedly sentimental pop songs, lyrics he’d usually flip the station over without a second thought.

But what truly was more shocking - was the calm, almost methodical way he sang. It wasn’t the typical poppy, upbeat rendition, he was deliberately bending the melody, drawing out the notes, giving it a weight and richness that felt… sincere.

Even thoughtful.

“Romeo, save me,��� he murmured, his voice like velvet, layering over the lyrics with that warm, low cadence that made you feel he was singing a ballad rather than a radio hit. “I’ve been feeling so alone” The lower octave turning the song into something more heartfelt, the kind of warmth you’d find in an old love song.

You barely dared to breathe, your hand resting on the doorframe as you took in the scene, each step bringing you closer, yet you stood still, just watching him.

There he was, perfectly at home in your kitchen, flipping pancakes in time with the song, a bowl of batter at his side, and those neatly diced apples - your apples, the ones you’d hidden for the cake, already sliced and ready on the counter.

He moved with this calm certainty, like he knew exactly where every spoon and skillet was, as if he’d done this a hundred times before, like this was his kitchen, his place.

And watching him, the weight of it settled over you, soft and unassuming, like it had always been there, only waiting for you to notice.

You wanted to see this every morning.

This sight - him in your kitchen, in your space, humming along to a cheesy love song.

You could already imagine so many more mornings just like this - waking up to the quiet sounds of him in the kitchen, maybe later to the faint patter of little feet, to quiet laughter, to moments of warmth and ease you hadn’t dared to let yourself picture.

Right there, it hit you, the thought rising naturally, with the same certainty as breathing: you wanted to marry Aaron Hotchner.

You wanted this morning, and every morning, and every rare, precious moment he’d allow you to share, for the rest of your lives.

It was so startling, it almost scared you - the sheer weight and clarity of it, something you’d never even let yourself imagine until now.

And as if he could read your mind, he sang on, unwittingly echoing the thought you’d just had, the words falling from his lips with this surprising tenderness, so soft you barely heard it over the sizzling pan,

"He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring…”

And in perfect time with the lyrics, he turned, reaching for something on the counter. His gaze met yours, and he froze, his eyes going wide.

Caught.

Caught like he was a kid with his hand in the cookie jar, his cheeks tinged pink as he stammered, “It’s… catchy.”

You couldn’t even form a coherent reply. All you managed to say, a little dazed, was, “Last time I checked, this was my kitchen.” It seemed only fair to mention, because he looked entirely too comfortable, like he belonged there. Which, of course, he did.

Without missing a beat, he smirked, still flushed. “Last time I checked, that was my shirt.” There was a glint of humor in his eye as he nodded at the oversized button-up you were wrapped in.

Touché.

But you couldn’t let him off so easily.

“So, Hotchner’s finally embraced pop?” you teased, moving closer. He gave you a look that was half-fond, half-exasperated.

“Are you going to tell the team?” he asked, lips twitching in a barely suppressed smile.

“Oh, you mean that you know the lyrics to Love Story by heart?” You reached for a piece of apple, savoring the sweetness, both of the fruit and the moment.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter, crossing his arms in a way that was both effortlessly intimidating and disarmingly charming. "And how exactly are you going to tell them?" he countered, his voice low and amused. "Considering we’re still keeping this whole thing," he gestured between the two of you, "a secret?"

You arched an eyebrow at him, a smirk dancing at the corner of your lips. “Oh, don’t worry, I’d find a way to tell them. Especially after finding my plan completely sabotaged.” You gestured toward the crime scene he’d made of your countertop, the diced apples mixed with flour dust and cinnamon smears, reaching out to pick up a perfectly diced slice. “What kind of monster butchers my last apple?”

Aaron chuckled, crossing his arms in that familiar way that made him look both effortlessly intimidating and disarmingly charming. “Well, I got here first, so I have dibs on breakfast duties,” he said, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he leaned in just a bit closer.

“Admit it, you’re just miserable that I’ve now beaten you not only to the office every morning but also in your very own kitchen.” With a playful smirk, he reached out, fingers grazing yours as he took the slice of apple from your hand, popping it into his mouth.

Your hand instinctively reached up, brushing a stray smear of flour from his cheek, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, your fingers lingered against his skin, warm beneath your touch, your thumb brushing over the roughness of his stubble. “Believe me, Aaron,” you murmured, your voice softening, “I’m hardly miserable. But if there was ever a day for you to be spoiled, it’s today.”

A subtle shift crossed his face, he tried to play it off with a shrug, but you caught the way his eyes softened. “Since when are Sundays such a big deal?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

You smiled, your voice dropping just as low. “Since a certain FBI Unit Chief turned 43 today.”

He paused, something deeper flickering across his face, gratitude, maybe even a hint of wonder. But his lips curled into a small smile as he teased, “So you’re saying you’re obsessed with me? Is that why today’s circled on the calendar?”

You laughed softly, leaning in until the warmth between you was almost overwhelming. “Maybe I’m just a thorough planner,” you murmured, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. “Not that you’d know anything about that, Mister Show-Up-Unannounced-To-Ruin-Everything.”

His chuckle was low, rich, and his hand slid from the counter to your waist, pulling you closer, his thumb traced small, warm circles just above your hip, sending a thrill through you that made your pulse quicken. “Oh, so I’m the one to blame now?”

His forehead pressed against yours, his lips only inches away, his voice a warm murmur that made your breath catch. “I thought I’d get some credit. I put my heart into this, you know.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingertips brushing gently along the nape of his neck as you closed the space between you. “Maybe a little credit,” you whispered softly in his good ear, your voice low and warm,

“But only if those pancakes are as good as the cake I was going to make for you.” You leaned back just enough to see your reflection in his light chestnut eyes. "Happy birthday, Aaron. I love you."

Six words, and that’s all it took.

Six words and the universe seemed to gather itself, suspended in a moment that transcended language itself.

It was a truth so elemental, it resisted adornment, a declaration distilled to its essence, timeless and immutable.

An affirmation that existed beyond expectation, a vow as ancient and constant as the stars themselves.

There is a metaphysics to love, you realized - it stands outside the linear bounds of time, touches the eternal.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice serious thick with emotion, “I love you, too.”

As he leaned in, his lips met yours with a tenderness that felt timeless, like the merging of two notes in perfect harmony. The kiss was neither hurried nor tentative - it lingered, unbound by time, a communion in which words would only lessen its meaning.

It was as if the essence of all things - of breath, heartbeats, even thought - collapsed into a single, quiet rhythm, a pulse shared between the two of you, steady and enduring.

His hand on the small of your back was grounding, tethering you to the warmth and certainty of his presence, yet it held the weight of something deeper, an invitation to transcend the ordinary, into a realm that felt almost timeless.

His fingers traced gentle paths along your spine, each motion a quiet pledge, a reminder that this moment - this suspended eternity - was as real as anything either of you had ever known.

There was something purely metaphysical about it, a union that philosophy itself would struggle to pin down, though it tried - oh, how it tried!

There were passages in Aristotle, in Plato, that hinted at this feeling, words that beckoned yet somehow fell short of translating this precise depth, this shared infinity.

How perfectly absurd, yet fitting, that the ancient words you’d studied your whole life only now truly resonated, here, in his arms.

It was probably a blessing that he couldn’t read your mind, or he’d surely tease you mercilessly, forever, about finding existential truths in the simplicity of a kiss.

Yet philosophy was the only thing that could try to capture even a fraction of what he made you feel. You would have likely confessed that, at this very moment, he seemed to hold all the secrets of the universe in the softness of his gaze, in the press of his hand.

If he knew, you could already hear him laughing, promising with that faint smirk to remind you every day for the rest of his life: ‘that you were the one waxing poetic, hopelessly undone by his touch.’

But perhaps you’d take that trade-off, if it meant he’d keep looking at you just like this.

Or maybe he already suspected, because as he pulled back slightly, that familiar sparkle was in his eyes. His voice dropped to that low, warm timbre that always seemed to melt you. “You know, I’m the luckiest guy in the world having you as my girlfriend,” he murmured.

You felt your cheeks grow warm, a reaction you couldn’t seem to help, especially when he was the one reminding you of that fact.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your blush. “I love how you keep doing that every time I call you my girlfriend,” he said, savoring each word, his grin only widening.

“You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” you nudged him playfully, pulling away just long enough to pour yourself a glass of water.

He leaned against the counter, eyes sparkling with a playful glint. “Maybe. It’s the little pleasures in life, you know?” He paused, and you caught the mischievous edge to his voice. “Like watching that blush climb all the way down your neck every time I’m close to you.”

You took a sip of water, trying to keep your cool, but he leaned even closer, his lips just a breath away from your ear. “And I can think of a few more ways to keep you flushed like that,” he whispered, his voice dropping to a sultry murmur.

You nearly choked, sputtering as you looked up at him with a mock glare. “If you say one more word, Aaron Hotchner, I swear I’m dumping this entire glass of water on you.” you warned, pointing to the water for emphasis.

But he didn’t even flinch.

Instead, he raised a playful brow, his smirk only deepening. “Now, that’d just give me an excuse to get closer to you. Which, I’d say, isn’t a bad way to spend my birthday.” He paused, eyes trailing over you in a way that sent warmth radiating from your cheeks down to your very core. “Or… maybe you’d rather see me get out of this shirt? I mean, it’s your call, sweetheart.”

The room suddenly felt too warm, and from the glint in his eyes, you knew he could see how thoroughly flustered you were. You searched for a comeback, determined to give him a taste of his own medicine.

But the words caught in your throat, entirely out of reach, and he noticed - of course he noticed. His grin widened as he leaned back, folding his arms, looking smug and entirely too pleased with himself.

“What’s the matter, Professor?” he continued, a grin playing on his lips. “Don’t tell me the great philosopher herself is speechless?” His voice dropped even lower “No ancient texts to rescue you from this one?”

The challenge in his eyes held you captive, and you knew there was no witty comeback that could save you from the truth: he had completely undone you.

But you managed to pull yourself together just enough to respond, leaning forward as you raised your chin with a defiant smile.

But he didn’t budge, his eyes sparkling with that familiar, infuriating confidence. “Oh, I think I’ll stay right here. Watching you like this?” His smirk grew wider. “This is the best birthday gift I could ask for.”

You raised an eyebrow, refusing to back down, and turned to the fridge, grabbing a cold bottle of water and holding it up with a knowing look. “You know,” you said, a mischievous smile playing on your lips, “there’s a whole bottle of ice-cold water here. Just waiting to be used.”

He chuckled, unfazed, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Judging from that blush,” he murmured, stepping closer, “I think you’re the one who could use the cold water.” He leaned in, his voice a low, seductive whisper. “Or do you want to bet I’ve already got you wet down there?”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips as you took a small step back, pretending to consider his words. “Oh, you’re bold today, aren’t you?” you teased, uncapping the water bottle and tilting it slightly in his direction. “I wouldn’t test me, Hotchner.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied smoothly, though his gaze stayed fixed on you, steady and full of challenge. “But I’d love to see what you’d actually do with that water,” he added, crossing his arms and leaning back with a smirk. “Go on, show me.”

You lifted the bottle just enough to let a single drop slip down, watching as it slid down the bottle’s edge, intentionally drawing it out. “You sure about that?” you asked, your tone daring. “Because once I start, there’s no going back.”

He grinned, holding his ground, eyes dancing with intrigue. “Try me,” he whispered, his voice rough, daring you, his gaze locked on yours.

With a smirk, you tilted the bottle in one swift motion, letting a stream of cold water pour down his neck, catching him completely off-guard. The shock in his eyes was priceless as he gasped, shivering as the icy water spilled over his collar and down his chest, soaking into the fabric of his shirt and clinging to his skin.

You watched, heart pounding, as rivulets of water dripped from his hair, tracing paths down his jaw and across the hollow of his throat.

His breath came shallow, and for a brief moment, he just stared at you, his eyes dark with a mixture of surprise and something else - a heat that went far beyond the playful spark in his gaze moments before.

Slowly, he brushed his fingers through his wet hair, sending droplets flying as he shook his head in mock surrender, chuckling under his breath. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice low and rich, “I’ll give you that one.”

He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving yours, the water still trickling down his neck, clinging to his skin. “But you do realize,” he said softly, a glint of challenge and mischief in his eyes, “now it’s my turn.”

Your fingers threaded into his damp hair, tugging him closer as you pressed your body against his, deepening the kiss with a need that went beyond words.

His mouth moved over yours, hot and unyielding, each kiss more consuming than the last, igniting a fire that pulsed through every inch of you. You let out a soft moan as his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you against him, until the lines between where he ended and you began were blurred.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you with ease, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as you steadied yourself, your legs tightening around his waist. He walked with purpose, each step deliberate as he moved you away from the puddle on the floor.

Reaching the counter, he set you down, his hands sliding to your hips to keep you anchored to him. You pulled him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist, feeling his hard bulge pressing against you, right between your legs, sending an excruciating wave of heat that made you ache with need of wanting every inch of him.

His lips trailed down to your neck, finding that sensitive spot that made you gasp, arching your back and tilting your hips against him in response, desperate for more contact through all those unnecessary layers of clothes.

That made him chuckle against your skin, his breath warm and teasing as he pressed his hips forward, letting you feel more of him. His hands roamed over your body, one slipping down between your thighs, his fingers sliding over the fabric of your clothes to press gently against your folds. You let out a shuddering breath as he teased you, feeling your arousal seep through the fabric under his touch.

“Shit Aaron,” you whispered furrowing your brows, the sound escaping as a mix of plea and need. He let out a low, satisfied sigh, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate strokes along your folds, applying just enough pressure to leave you breathless.

"Told you needed that cold water too," he murmured, his voice rough and dark with desire as his fingers continued their slow, teasing movements, each touch lingering longer than the last, setting every nerve in your body on fire. "You’re so wet, love."

His lips found yours again, his kiss searing and consuming, swallowing the soft gasps that escaped you as his hand worked in a steady rhythm that left you trembling, every touch building the ache that spread through you.

Your hands found the hem of his soaked shirt, unable to resist the need to feel more of him. You gripped the fabric, slowly peeling it up over his torso, your fingers tracing over every defined line of his abdomen and chest as the shirt lifted, clinging to his skin, heavier from the water.

He shuddered at your touch, his muscles taut under your fingertips, and his breathing hitched as you struggled to work the fabric up over his shoulders. With a quick, impatient movement, he pulled it the rest of the way off, tossing it carelessly to the floor, where it landed with a wet, heavy thud.

The unexpected sound made you both pause, sharing a breathless, shared chuckle that broke the intensity for only a moment.

Then his gaze met yours, dark and blazing with an almost unrestrained hunger. His pupils were blown wide, breaths shallow and quick, matching your own.

The charged silence between you was almost unbearable, every second weighted with anticipation " Let's cut this shit and just fuck me, Aaron," you said firmly locking eyes with him, your tone was thick with need.

 "So eloquent," he replied, his voice so low that it made you even more wet than you already were.

"If you don’t have me quoting Plato," you breathed, voice unsteady, “then it means you’re doing it a good job."

He let out a low, throaty chuckle. "Trust me, that's the last thing I want to hear right now."

False. But he wasn’t about to let you know that just yet.

Keeping his gaze fixed on yours, he dipped down slowly, his hands sliding up your thighs, his grip firm yet gentle, holding you open in a way that left no room for resistance and filled you with a breathless anticipation.

His lips brushed softly over your knee, then trailed upward in maddeningly slow, deliberate kisses along your inner thigh. Each touch of his mouth felt like a spark on your skin, the heat pooling within you growing with every inch he covered.

The roughness of his stubble scraped deliciously over your sensitive skin, heightening the sensation and leaving you craving more with every slow, deliberate movement.

“I could stay here all morning,” he murmured, his voice thick and rough, lips lingering at that spot on your inner thigh that made your head spin. “Fuck, your thighs drive me crazy.” He sucked gently at the sensitive skin, and a dizzying wave of warmth coursed through you, making you clutch the edge of the counter beneath you.

“You sound so much better when you’re talking between my legs,” you managed, your voice a whisper. “Almost makes me want to actually listen to what you’re saying.”

A smirk played on his lips as he moved inward with torturous slowness, each kiss deeper and more lingering than the last, his mouth exploring every inch with an intensity that only stoked the fire inside you. “Can’t wait to eat you out,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low rumble that made you shiver. “You always taste so damn sweet.”

Just hearing him made your cheeks flush, heat spreading across your skin, and he looked up briefly, catching the blush on your face.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your thigh, the vibration sending a shiver through your entire body. “There it is,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to your skin as if savoring every reaction, “and I’m not even close.”

“Fuck you Aaron,” you muttered, rolling your eyes at the nerve he had, but unable to mask the need building inside you.

“Just give me a few minutes,” he whispered, a wicked smile tugging at his lips, “and you won’t be able to say a word.” Without giving you time to respond, he moved his hand, his fingers brushing over your throbbing, clothed core, drawing a soft, needy moan from you.

“Oh, Aaron,” you gasped, the words spilling from your lips as the warmth of his touch sent a shock of pleasure through you.

“Better, but next time just say my name”, he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction as his mouth continued to explore every sensitive spot, each kiss igniting fresh waves of desire.

He savored every second, each shiver, each breathless sound you made, keeping you on edge and drawing out your need until you were trembling with anticipation, every nerve alive and straining toward him, aching for the moment he’d finally close that last, agonizing bit of distance.

A soft, breathy moan escaped your lips as his mouth reached the very end of your inner thigh, lingering there with maddening intent before, with one swift motion, he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and discarded them, leaving you exposed to the cool air that instantly sent a shiver down your spine.

Your hand flew to his, squeezing his left hand resting on your thigh, seeking an anchor amidst the building tension. He intertwined his fingers with yours, holding you there, his grip firm and grounding.

What a gentleman.

As he moved closer to where you ached for him most, the warmth of his breath contrasted with the coolness of the air, sending another wave of heat pooling low in your belly.

Your skin was hypersensitive, every inch of you on edge, the cool air brushing against your slick, exposed core making you tremble with need. You could feel yourself wet, the evidence of your desire trailing down, and he noticed, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he took in every reaction.

Slowly, he leaned in, and just when you thought you couldn’t bear the wait, he let out a soft, cool breath against your sensitive center, the contrast making you gasp, your hips instinctively arching toward him.

The sensation was electric, his teasing touch only building the tension to a fever pitch, leaving you breathless and desperate, every nerve alive, craving his next move.

Every inch of you ached for him, and the faint chill of his breath against your heated skin only made you more sensitive, heightening every sensation as you waited, breathless, desperate, for the moment he’d finally close the distance and give you the relief you craved.

And just as you felt yourself entirely lost in the moment, fully immersed in his touch, your phone rang – your work phone.

Aaron, sensing the urgency of your vibrating work phone, let out a reluctant sigh and leaned down, resting his head between your legs for a lingering moment before handing the phone to you.

His hand found yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze before he straightened up and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. He knew it had to be important if you were getting called on your day off - especially since your last case had barely wrapped up a day ago.

With a sigh, you brought the phone to your ear, feeling Aaron’s hand slide down to rest on your thigh, his thumb tracing slow, grounding circles over your skin. “Agent Y/L/N,” you answered, keeping your tone professional despite the unmistakable warmth of Aaron’s presence beside you.

The voice on the other end chirped brightly. “Oh, don’t worry, Teach, this isn’t a case.” It was Garcia, her usual exuberance coming through, immediately putting you at ease.

Aaron’s head shot up, his expression sharpening as he registered Garcia’s voice on the line. His unit chief instincts kicked in immediately, a hint of concern flickering across his face - he knew as well as you did that Garcia wasn’t supposed to make personal calls to your work phone.

His gaze shifted to meet yours, silently questioning, his eyes searching for an explanation.

But you quickly gave him a reassuring nod, your eyes conveying, ‘It’s fine. Just Garcia being Garcia.’

He studied you for a moment, then sighed, the tension easing from his face as he accepted your silent assurance. She was his favorite on the team, after all – you knew he’d let this slide simply because it was her, and only her.

His tense posture softened, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he relaxed. But his hand stayed firmly on your leg, his thumb moving in soothing circles, silently grounding you as you continued the call.

“So… what’s up?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“Well, I’m just outside your door!�� Garcia chirped, and you froze, a sense of dread pooling in your stomach. “I came by to return that umbrella you lent me! And as an apology for taking so long, I brought homemade cookies! But not just any cookies - these are made with your recipe. I had to know your secret, oh wise cookie guru.”

You exchanged a panicked look with Aaron, who widened his eyes, clearly just as surprised as you were. He raised his eyebrows in disbelief, mouthing, ‘What?’

The kitchen was a disaster - a puddle of water glistened a few feet away from where you were, his shirt and your discarded underwear lay crumpled on the floor, and a forgotten stack of pancakes sat on the opposite counters, cold and untouched.

You tried to focus, clearing your throat. “Did you, um, brown the butter?” you asked, forcing a normal tone as Aaron’s lips returned to your cheek, planting feather-light kisses along your jawline. You brought your hand up to his chest, gently pressing to stop him just before he reached your neck.

If he kept going, there was no way you’d keep quiet.

“Oh, obviously, I browned the butter! Gourmet tip of the year, right?” she replied with dramatic flair. “But seriously, why haven’t you opened the door yet? Don’t tell me you’re still in bed!”

“Oh, Penelope, uh,” you hesitated, your voice wavering as you shot Aaron a helpless look. He simply leaned back, crossing his arms with an amused grin, watching you squirm. “I’m… uh… a little tied up right now.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, then she gasped, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “Teach,” she said, drawing out the word as if savoring it. “Did you get laid?”

Your eyes widened, heat creeping up your cheeks, and you avoided Aaron’s gaze. “I, uh…” you stammered, glancing at Aaron, who raised both eyebrows, clearly entertained by the direction the conversation was going. ‘Lost for words, again?’ he mouthed, with a smirk.

“Oh my God!” Garcia squealed. “Spill! Where did you meet them? Was it romantic, thrilling, a slow-burn kind of thing?”

Thinking quickly, you stammered, “Uh… met him at the supermarket, actually.” You glanced over at Aaron, who was watching you with a barely contained grin.

“The supermarket?” Garcia’s tone was incredulous, then turned approving. “Well, look at you, turning errands into escapades! What was it about him? I mean, Teach, this is you we’re talking about, and you have that five-date rule before you even consider any ‘extracurriculars’!”

Aaron barely held back a laugh, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He mouthed, ‘Five dates?’ with an exaggerated look of mock surprise, clearly referencing the fact that it had taken you much fewer than five dates to get there with him.

Grabbing a pen and sticky note from the counter, you quickly scribbled, *It took us ten years, I think we waited enough.*

He read it, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous grin that seemed to say, “Still a win.” He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, and you rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile.

“So?” Garcia’s voice came through again, jolting you back. “What made him so special?”

You cleared your throat, keeping your answer vague. “He was… just nice. Nothing too remarkable. We just clicked.”

Garcia paused, as if processing that. “Clicked, huh? Not the most exciting answer, but I guess it’s better than nothing.” Her voice lowered conspiratorially, “Well, Teach, between you and me - how was it?”

You blinked, struggling to keep your composure. You knew answering in detail would only encourage her. Shooting Aaron a quick, apologetic look, you took a deep breath and answered, trying to be as nonchalant as possible “Honestly? Not memorable.”

Aaron’s eyebrows shot up, a look of playful offense crossing his face. You grabbed the pen again, quickly scribbling, ‘She’d have asked for specifics. It was the only way to end it.’

But Aaron wasn’t letting it slide.

He smirked, taking the pen from you and jotting, “If I were you, I’d start writing your incident report now.”

You mouthed a playful “Come on, Aaron,” but he didn’t relent, writing again, ‘You won’t be able to walk when I’m done with you. Trust me on that.’ His eyes gleamed with a mixture of humor and something darker, and he added, ‘Consider it a favor to your Unit Chief.’

The moment he pulled rank - even in jest - you knew he wasn’t kidding. A thrill shot through you, as, you realized: oh, you were fucked.

Meanwhile, Garcia was still on the line, sympathy dripping from her voice. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Teach. I hope the next one is better! But hey love, you’re a catch, you’ll have a line of suitors soon enough.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, grinning as he traced lazy circles along your arm, clearly entertained and waiting to see how you’d handle the situation. Just as you were about to breathe a sigh of relief, thinking the conversation with Garcia might finally be wrapping up, she added, “But one last thing… how big was he?”

Your eyes flew to Aaron, who pressed his lips together, struggling to keep from laughing outright. His brows lifted, an expectant glint in his eyes as he waited to see how you’d handle this new level of interrogation.

You let out a long, exasperated sigh, hiding your face behind your hand for a second before answering.

“Oh, Penelope,” you began, doing your best to keep your voice steady as Aaron’s expression practically sparkled with mischief. “Size… let’s just say he was… more than enough.”

You gave Aaron a pointed look, as if to say, ‘Happy now?’

Aaron raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye, and picked up the pen to scrawl on a sticky note, “At least you said something true this time.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms with a smirk and that unmistakable, self-satisfied gleam that only made him more infuriatingly irresistible.

You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to wipe that smug grin off his face. He was lucky you loved him, even when he was this cocky.

Garcia hummed, clearly intrigued. “Alright, alright, keep your secrets! But I’ll be needing a coffee date soon to get all the details. And I’ll make sure to bring a tape measure!”

Aaron’s smirk only widened, thoroughly enjoying every second of your discomfort. Determined to take back some control, you grabbed the pen, furiously scribbling, “If you don’t stop smirking, I’ll make you wait a week.”

He arched an eyebrow, clearly unfazed, and took the pen, writing back with a smug confidence, “I don’t think you’d last a week.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned in close, his mouth brushing your ear. “In fact,” he whispered, voice low and challenging, “I’d bet you’d be begging in less than a minute.”

Just as he pulled back, you caught yourself, remembering Garcia was still on the line. You shook yourself out of the daze he’d left you in, quickly bringing the phone back up. “Thanks, Pen. I’ll, uh, catch up with you later. I’ve got a bit of a… mess here to handle.”

“Ohhh, say no more,” she replied with a knowing giggle. “Go handle your ‘mess,’ teach! I’ll swing by later to drop off the cookies.”

“Sure thing,” you replied, hoping to end the call before anything else slipped. “Talk soon!”

Finally, she hung up, and you let out a sigh of relief as you placed the phone back on the counter.

Before you could even process the call, Aaron wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back toward him. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss along your jaw, trailing slowly down to the sensitive spot on your neck, his touch igniting that spark of need all over again.

“‘Not memorable,’ huh?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed his lips along your collarbone, his voice thick with amusement and challenge. “Guess I’ll have to change that.”

You smirked, threading your fingers through his hair, giving it a gentle tug as you met his gaze, your eyes gleaming. “Consider it a challenge,” you whispered, voice heavy with anticipation.

“Oh, I intend to,” he replied, his voice low and filled with a promise that sent a thrill through you. His hands slipped down to your waist, gripping firmly as he lifted you effortlessly back onto the counter.

His fingers traced along your thighs, pulling you close until there was no space left between you, his warmth flooding over you as he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was anything but forgettable.

The intensity of his lips left you breathless, his mouth moving with a need that always made you ache for him.

But just as you were melting into the kiss, he pulled back abruptly, leaving you gasping.

Without a word, he turned and walked toward the entry room where he’d left his briefcase the night prior.

You sat there, still dazed, watching as he rummaged through it with purpose. When he returned, he handed you a piece of paper and a pen, his smirk widening as you looked down and realized he’d handed you an incident report form.

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “An incident report, really?”

He grinned, his hands settling on your waist, pulling you flush against him. “You file this,” he said, voice rich with amusement, “and in the meantime, I’ll clean up this kitchen disaster we made. How’s that sound?”

“You’re serious about this?” you asked, trying to keep a straight face as his fingers slid teasingly up and down your sides, his touch setting your skin on fire even through the fabric.

He leaned close, his voice a husky whisper against your ear. “Think of it as a precaution,” he murmured, his breath tickling your skin. “Can’t have you running to HR with ‘not memorable’ complaints, now can we?”

You arched an eyebrow, glancing at the cold pile of pancakes beside you. “Fine. But if I’m filing paperwork, I’m at least entitled to a last meal,” you teased, reaching for one of the now slightly stale pancakes.

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, his fingers brushing along your jaw as he looked at you with mock sincerity. “Of course. I’m not heartless,” he said, sliding a hand possessively down your thigh. “Wouldn’t want you complaining that I wasted your ‘last apple.’”

You rolled your eyes, grinning as you took a bite, savoring the taste with exaggerated satisfaction just to get a rise out of him.

As you took a bite, he leaned in, his lips trailing a slow, heated path down your neck, each kiss sending sparks across your skin. “Finish up,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and filled with promise. “You’re going to need a lot of energy later.”

You smirked, picking up a pancake and handing it to him. “I think you’re the one who’ll need it more,” you teased, eyes glinting. “Wouldn’t want you throwing out your back, old man.”

He raised an eyebrow, biting into the pancake you offered, then leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Old man?” he echoed, his tone low and challenging. “We’ll see who’s begging for mercy first.”

You chuckled, unfazed. “Just looking out for you,” you replied innocently. “Can’t have my Unit Chief all sore and out of commission, can I?”

He chuckled, his fingers tightening around your waist. “Sweetheart, by the time I’m through with you, the only thing you’ll be looking out for is a place to catch your breath.”

“Oh?” You leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Big talk. Hope you’re not all bark and no bite.”

He tilted your chin up, his gaze darkening as he smirked. “Oh, you’ll feel the bite.” His lips brushed over yours, slow and teasing. “And trust me,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve got more than enough stamina to keep you… occupied.”

You grinned, meeting his dark gaze with a defiant spark in your eyes. “More than enough stamina? Now that’s a bold claim,” you murmured, your voice laced with playful challenge. “But, if you’re looking to impress, I’d expect nothing less than an all-night performance. Think you can handle that?”

His smirk grew as his hands slid up your sides, pulling you even closer. “Oh, I’m not just handling it, I’m guaranteeing it,” he replied, his voice a low, rumbling promise. He leaned in, brushing his lips over yours, just close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath. “In fact, sweetheart, I don’t plan on letting you sleep at all tonight.”

Your pulse quickened, but you kept up the game. “Guess I’ll have to cancel my morning plans,” you replied, pretending to sound disappointed. “Here I thought I’d be waking up fresh and ready to tackle the day.”

He let out a soft, amused chuckle, his fingers slipping down to grip your hips firmly, pressing you against him. “Oh, you’ll be plenty ready to tackle something,” he teased, his eyes glinting as he tilted his head, giving you a slow, purposeful once-over. “But the day? Probably not. You’ll be too busy trying to remember how to stand.”

You rolled your eyes, though the smirk never left your lips. “Big words, Hotchner. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He leaned closer, his lips grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Challenge accepted,” he murmured, his tone dripping with intent. “And just so you know,” he added, his mouth ghosting over your skin, “the only thing I’ll need all night… is you begging for more.”

“Confident, aren’t we?” you teased, threading your fingers through his hair, giving it a gentle tug. “But confidence only gets you so far, you know. You’ll have to back up all this talk.”

He smirked, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth, his eyes gleaming with that familiar intensity. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, his lips brushing over yours. “By the time I’m done, the only thing you’ll be able to say is my name.”

“Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet”, Plato.

taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @justyourusualash ; @kyrathekiller ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @mxblobby ; @prettybaby-reid ; @reidfile ; @royalestrellas ; @ssa-callahan ; @theseerbetweenus ; @todorokishoe24

Hope you liked it :) Happy birthday old man

[mapis-putellas]

𝑯𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔/𝑳.𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒎𝒔𝒐𝒏

The airport was a blur of faces and voices, people moving in every direction, but the only thing you could focus on was the giant hunk of metal you were about to get into. The fact that Leah was holding your hand, squeezing it reassuringly, was the only thing keeping your knees from buckling.

"Hey, babe." Leah's voice was warm, eyes soft as she looked at you. "You know, you don't have to come. I'd love it if you did, but I'd understand if you stayed."

You shook your head, your lips pressed into a tight line. "No way. I've missed way too many of your games because of this. I'm coming."

Leah's face lit up with a proud, affectionate smile as she pulled you close and pressed a quick kiss to your temple. "Alright then, brave girl. Let's go." She nodded towards the gate with a gentle tug on your hand.

Your heart felt like it was doing somersaults, and by the time you both found your seats in first class—courtesy of Arsenal's bookings—your palms were clammy, and every worst-case scenario was flashing through your mind. You threw yourself into the window seat, buckled in, and then tightened the belt like it was the last thing tethering you to the earth. Leah chuckled beside you, slipping into the aisle seat and brushing her hand over your knee.

"Alright there?" she teased lightly.

"Not even remotely close," you muttered, your voice sounding far more strained than you'd intended.

Leah's eyes softened. She leaned over, giving your hand a quick squeeze. "I'll be right back, yeah? Just need the loo." She pressed a kiss to your cheek and walked off.

The moment she disappeared, the sheer panic returned. You stared out the window, eyes wide as you imagined all the ways this could go wrong. What if the pilot was a rookie? What if he accidentally pressed the wrong button and sent the plane hurtling toward the ocean? And how was something this heavy supposed to stay in the sky on such small wings? Before you knew it, your hands were clutching the armrests like your life depended on it, fingers turning white as you mentally braced for every scenario.

Leah returned and took one look at your pale face and your death grip on the seat. She cocked an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. "Well, love, that's some grip you've got there."

The moment you registered she was back, you turned to her with wide eyes. "Swap seats with me. Now."

Leah blinked, a bit surprised. "Uh... alright. Thought you wanted the window."

"That was before I realized it's going to be me who gets sucked out first if this window breaks," you deadpanned, scooting over immediately.

Leah stifled a laugh as she slid in, now beside the window. "Fine, I'll take one for the team." She glanced down, noticing how you were buckling your seatbelt with renewed fervor, making sure both of you were as secure as possible.

She yelped as you pulled her seatbelt tight, earning a raised eyebrow from her. "Babe, you're cutting me in half."

"Good. Less chance of you flying out of this thing then," you replied, your voice a touch hysterical.

Leah leaned back, trying to ignore the way her seatbelt was practically digging into her waist. She watched you with a concerned smile, her hand reaching out to yours. "Baby, I think you're safe. I promise."

But you were too busy scanning every corner of the plane, watching for anything that looked remotely wrong or dangerous. Leah's fingers gently tugged at one of your hands, prying it off the armrest and linking her fingers through yours.

"Hey," she said softly, waiting until you looked over. "I'm right here, alright? Deep breath, yeah?"

As the plane roared to life, your entire body went rigid. Leah squeezed your hand, her voice a soothing murmur in your ear. "Breathe, babe. Just breathe. We haven't even taken off yet."

You barely heard her over the roar of your heartbeat, your mind spiraling as the engines started to hum. "Oh my god," you whispered. "We're going to die."

"No, we're not," Leah said calmly, her tone soothing as her arm slipped around your shoulders. "Come on, love. Lean into me."

Your head fell onto her shoulder, and you clutched at her jumper like it was the only thing holding you down. Leah's arm wrapped around you tightly, and her other hand began to rub slow, comforting circles on your back. "Just focus on me, yeah?" Her voice was gentle, her tone warm. "I've got you."

You nodded against her, though your body was still shaking. She was speaking softly, her voice a steady hum in your ear as she talked about anything and everything, trying to pull your mind away from the takeoff.

The plane began to accelerate, and you tensed up, clutching her even tighter, your fingers digging into her side. Leah pressed her lips to your temple, her hand slipping under your shirt to rest against the bare skin of your back. "Alright, babe, deep breaths. You're fine. Focus on my hand, yeah? Feel how warm it is?"

You nodded, trying to breathe in time with her as she whispered gentle reassurances. Her fingers traced slow, comforting patterns on your back, and you let yourself focus on that, feeling the warmth of her skin against yours, the weight of her arm around you.

As the plane lifted off, your stomach lurched, and Leah held you even closer. "You're okay, love. Look at me. I'm right here."

You glanced up at her, meeting her eyes, and the calm, steady look she gave you eased the tightness in your chest a little. "I'm not going anywhere, alright? And neither are you," she promised softly, her fingers tracing along the back of your neck.

For the next hour, you stayed curled into her side, her steady hand resting against your back as she talked about everything from football to the little moments you'd shared since meeting her. She seemed to have a story for everything, and her voice was a constant, soothing presence.

Just as you started to settle, the plane hit a rough patch of turbulence, and your heart leapt into your throat, eyes burning with the unmistakable threat of tears. Leah felt you tense and adjusted her hold on you, one hand slipping under your shirt again to press flat against your back, grounding you.

"Hey, hey, focus on me," she murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Feel that? That's me. I'm right here, babe, and I'm not going anywhere. Nothing's happening. Just a few bumps."

You focused on the warmth of her hand, her voice, and her steady breathing, letting it wash over you until the turbulence passed. She rubbed your back in gentle circles, brushing her fingers through your hair as she murmured, "That's it, babe. See? It's alright."

When the turbulence finally stopped, you felt your shoulders relax slightly. Leah didn't let go, though, keeping her arms around you, whispering soft reassurances and kissing your forehead every few minutes, just to remind you she was there.

Hours later, the plane finally began its descent, and exhaustion weighed down on you. By the time you landed, you could barely keep your eyes open, and as you stumbled off the plane, Leah held onto you tightly, guiding you through the airport.

"You look like you've just fought off a herd of elephants, babe," she said, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

"Feel like it too," you mumbled, leaning into her side. "I just want a bath. And bed. Preferably with you."

Leah chuckled, her arm still tight around your shoulders. "Well, we can definitely arrange that. You've earned it, don't you think?"

You gave her a weak nod, resting your head on her shoulder as she led you through customs, never once letting go of you. By the time you reached the hotel, you could barely keep your eyes open.

After a hot bath and changing into something comfortable, you crawled into bed, feeling Leah slip in beside you. Her arms wrapped around you, and you felt the last of your tension melt away as you buried your face in her shoulder, the tip of your nose nudging against her jaw.

"Thank you," you murmured, your voice drowsy.

Leah's hand traced soothing patterns along your back, her voice a gentle whisper in the dark. "Anything for you, love. Now, go to sleep.”

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @codiemarin @girlgenius1111 @silentwolfsstuff @simp4panos @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[snapscube]

i finished AA investigations 1 btw :3 tier list update time!

All in all: Investigations 1 was pretty tough to get through unfortunately. Not that it was like BAD or anything but i really lost the drive somethin fierce with this one. The writing just did not feel even remotely as sharp or fun as the best of even AA1, though i don't think there was ever a low point as low of some of the first trilogy's worst. The very definition of "mid" overall, and I don't mean the new kind of "mid" that actually just means bad.

The last case of AAI1 was actually really good though! Really picked up the pace, it was nice and long and very fun to put the actual mystery together. It tied together the underlying plot of the entire game very nicely, one thing i think Investigations actually did really well overall. I liked how tangibly connected pretty much every case felt, even if the individual stories lost my interest often.

I will say though in regards to the final case, holy shit it goes off the rails near the end. I think there is legitimately 5 instances in a row of the murderer going "okay im going home now" only for some character to rush in at the last second and extend the investigation because of some weird asinine piece of evidence that is infinitely less valuable than everything we've already discussed. I think that final 3rd or so of the case is particularly egregious about treating previous evidence as inconsequential at the slightest bit of opposition in a way that started to really exhaust me by the end. I know that's kinda the whole bit with Ace Attorney, but usually there's a bit of balance in the more well rounded cases. This might be the worst I've seen of it so far, so it left somewhat of a sour taste in my mouth. Still enjoyed it a lot up to that point though, so it gets a solid A rank :)

Sorry I didn't post a lot of screencaps or anything when playin this one, I would have been taking them but my Steam Deck (where i play these most often) has been acting kinda buggy w my controller's screenshot button. It'll work once when I boot up the game fresh and then just not register any of my screenshots after. Hopefully that'll be fixed soon :) Time to move onto AAI2.... sometime in the near future! Maybe tonight! Maybe next week! I dunno! WEEEEE!

[oldiesstationlover11607]

heyyy um so i was wondering if u could do a version of ur jealous fic (gerard x ieros reader) but with Frank and a mcr f!drummer plss 🤞🏼

Drummer Girl - Frank Iero x Drummer!Reader

Warnings: Jealousy

Word Count: 1222

A/N: Lots of requests now that I've posted about not having requests lmao here's an mcr request for youuuuu uwu

It was one of those nights where the air felt electric, the stage lights were burning hot, and the energy of the crowd was almost overwhelming. The show had been one of our best—I could feel it in my bones as I pounded out the last beats of “Helena,” sweat dripping from my brow as Gerard held that final note with his whole chest. My hands were sore, my arms ached, but it was worth it.

As soon as the lights dimmed and the crowd erupted into deafening cheers, I stood up from my drum kit, grinning like an idiot. Frank was the first to bounce over to me, his guitar still slung over his shoulder, and pulled me into a quick, sweaty hug.

“I love you!” he shouted over the noise. His voice was raspy from screaming backup vocals, and I could barely hear him, but the wide smile on his face told me everything I needed to know.

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” I shot back, smirking.

Frank gave me a mock glare before flipping me off and jogging toward the side stage where the rest of the guys were already heading. My heart did a little flip as I watched him go. We'd been a thing for a few months now, though we’d been careful to keep it quiet. Dating your bandmate wasn’t exactly a recipe for a drama-free life, but with Frank? It felt worth it.

Backstage was a whirlwind of chaos, as usual. Crew members were running around packing up gear, and the band was basking in the post-show glow, sweaty hugs and pats on the back all around. I grabbed a bottle of water and leaned against a wall, letting myself decompress for a minute. That’s when Jason, one of the tech guys who’d been with us for a while, came over.

“Hey, killer set tonight,” he said, offering me a fist bump.

“Thanks, Jason,” I replied, bumping his fist. “You guys made us sound amazing out there.”

He grinned, his cheeks a little red. “You make it easy. Honestly, though, you’re insane on those drums. Ever thought about doing a solo project? I’d kill to mix for you.”

I laughed, brushing off the compliment, but before I could reply, I felt a presence at my side. I turned my head to find Frank standing there, his expression unreadable.

“Hey,” I said, smiling at him. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he said shortly, his eyes flicking to Jason. “We’re heading to the bus soon.”

“Cool, I’ll be there in a minute.” I turned back to Jason, who looked like he suddenly regretted coming over. “Anyway, thanks again. You’re the best.”

Jason gave a quick nod and backed off, muttering something about cables needing wrapping. I watched him go, confused, before turning back to Frank.

“What was that about?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” he muttered, but his jaw was tight, and his eyes were still fixed on where Jason had been standing.

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” I pressed.

Frank finally looked at me, his eyes sharp. “Do you really think it’s cool to let that guy hit on you right in front of me?”

I blinked, taken aback. “What? He wasn’t hitting on me. He was just being nice.”

Frank let out a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, okay. Sure. ‘You’re insane on those drums,’” he said, mimicking Jason’s voice in a way that wasn’t remotely accurate. “You don’t see it?”

I crossed my arms, feeling my own irritation bubbling up. “No, I don’t see it, because it wasn’t there. And even if it was, so what? It’s not like I’m interested in him.”

“That’s not the point,” Frank snapped, his voice rising. “The point is, he shouldn’t think he can talk to you like that.”

“Like what?” I shot back. “Complimenting my drumming? God forbid someone notices I’m good at what I do.”

Frank’s face fell slightly, but his shoulders were still tense. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. “Frank, you’re being ridiculous. Jason’s just a friend. He’s never crossed a line, and he’s not going to. Can we not do this right now?”

For a moment, Frank didn’t say anything. Then he muttered, “Fine. Let’s go.”

The walk to the bus was tense and silent. I could feel the frustration radiating off Frank, but I was too annoyed to try and break the ice. By the time we got on the bus, the rest of the band was already settled in, Gerard and Ray playing some weird card game while Mikey scrolled through his phone. They all looked up when we came in, their eyes flicking between us like they could feel the tension too.

“Everything okay?” Gerard asked cautiously.

“Peachy,” I said, forcing a smile before heading to the back lounge. I needed space, and I didn’t trust myself to keep my cool around Frank right now.

I sat down on the worn-out couch and leaned my head back, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.A few minutes later, I heard the door creak open. I didn’t need to look to know it was Frank.

“Can I come in?” he asked quietly.

“Door’s open,” I replied, not opening my eyes.

He hesitated before sitting down next to me, not too close but close enough that I could feel the heat of him. For a while, neither of us said anything. Finally, he broke the silence.

“I’m sorry,” he said. His voice was small, almost fragile. “I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean to make a scene.”

I opened my eyes and turned my head to look at him. He was staring at his hands, his fingers twisting the rings he always wore.

“Why did you?” I asked softly. “What’s really going on, Frank?”

He sighed, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “I don’t know. I guess I just… I get scared, you know? You’re amazing, and you’re gorgeous, and people notice. And sometimes I feel like it’s only a matter of time before you realize you could do better.”

My heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice. I reached out and put my hand on his, stilling his nervous movements.

“Frank, that’s not going to happen,” I said firmly. “You’re the one I want. Not Jason, not anyone else. You. Okay?”

He finally looked at me, his eyes soft and filled with something that looked like hope. “Okay,” he murmured.

I leaned in and kissed him gently, letting the touch of my lips say everything I couldn’t put into words. When I pulled back, he smiled, a real one this time.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Just don’t do it again,” I said, but my tone was teasing. “Or I might have to start throwing drumsticks at you during practice.”

He laughed, the sound light and easy, and the tension that had been hanging between us finally broke.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter and bad jokes, and by the time I fell into my bunk, I felt lighter. Frank might have his moments of insecurity, but so did I. And as long as we could talk it out, I knew we’d be okay.

Because at the end of the day, he was worth it too.

//

REQUESTS OPENNNN

[nowiminexileseeingyouout]

kate martin x reader

contains: fingering(reader!reciving , confession)

a/n: i have like 10 requests but i decide to write something nobody asked for?? ok anyway req still open even if i never post :(

Watching movies is the ultimate pastime. It was your favourite thing to do mainly because it was one of the few things that got your busy brain to calm down. You could get completely absorbed in another world for just a moment.

It's even better with friends because you can talk about it afterwards or even during. You didn't have to stress about anything outside of what was playing in front of you. Your favourite person to watch movies with was Kate. Kate loved it just as much as you. You could talk about movies for hours with her if you wanted to, and you wanted to. It was something you bonded over and the reason you became friends in the first place. You liked Kate; you had known her for a while now.

You might like her a little too much.

You liked the way every time she touched you it felt electric. She could give you butterflies just by talking. One time when you both were watching something together, Kate started to slowly move closer to you. You were sitting up with your legs in front of you propped up on an ottoman, and Kate moved so her head was on your shoulder and your legs were intertwined.

She just stayed there.

For the rest of the movie.

You couldn't remember what you were watching that night if your life depended on it. All you could focus on was how Kate's arm was strung behind your back and how warm she felt against you. You could feel yourself grow embarrassingly wet at the slight contact with her and you had to kick her out early. You made up some excuse about how you had to get up early. This was the first movie night you'd had since that interaction. You were nervous about not being able to control yourself in front of Kate. It wasn't fair to her; she was your friend. It wasn't her problem that you were attracted to her. You felt guilty, and if she ever found out, she might think that was the only reason you were nice to her. You hear a knock at the door that snaps you out of your thoughts. You walk to the door to greet Kate, praying you can keep it together. You open the door, and she is, standing there in her usual T-shirt and flannel pyjama pants. You both agreed a while ago to just wear pyjamas for movie night. Why did she have to look so good in pyjamas?

You manage to blurt out a "hi!"

"Hey," she replies, smiling a little at your clear excitement.

"I've got the movie all ready to go," you say as you turn to let Kate in.

"Very exciting. What did you decide for tonight?" she asks while walking past you, taking off her shoes, and making a beeline to the couch. You close the door and follow her.

"Kick-ass," you say.

You had both already seen it, but it was one of your favourites. No thinking was required, plus it was kind of funny. You sit down on the opposite end of the couch from Kate.

"Ah, good choice. I could use a brainless type of movie right about now." She immediately moves so your thighs are touching, ignoring your effort to put space between you two.

"Actually, do you mind if we lie down to watch this? I'm so exhausted I can barely see straight." Kate suggests.

That would mean either you sit on the floor or she would have to spoon you. Oh god.

"Ok, but then where would I sit?" you ask. You have no idea what answer you're hoping for.

"Just lay down in front of me. We can cuddle up; there's plenty of room."

There was indeed not plenty of room. Plenty of room would mean that every part of you wouldn't be touching Kate. Plenty of room would not mean that Kate's arm would be draped around you.

"Alright,"

you reply with a small laugh, ignoring every thought in your head right now. You stand up to allow Kate to lie on her side, putting her head on a throw pillow resting on the arm of the couch.

You grab the remote and press play before lying down in front of her. Kate drapes her arm around you and places her hand comfortably on your stomach. Eventually, she starts gently scratching your stomach, moving her hand in circles. She would move her hand slowly up just below your breasts and back down right below your belly button. Just above and below where you really wanted them. She was teasing you, and it almost felt intentional. The way the way her hand would sometimes go too high and graze your underboob or too low and barely touch the hem of your shorts.

Your breathing unintentionally starts to get heavier, and Kate notices.

"Something wrong?" She whispers.

"No, no, I'm—" She touches the hem of your shorts again, and you sharply inhale.

"I'm fine."

"Ok, whatever you say."

She replies, and you can almost hear the smugness in her voice. You're starting to think she's doing this on purpose. A few more minutes go by, and it's agony. You can't focus on anything except for the feeling of Kate's nails softly scratching your stomach. She wasn't even touching you directly, and she was driving you insane. You're not sure how much more you can take. Just when you're about to get up to go to the bathroom to try and escape her touch, Kate breaks the silence.

"I need to tell you something."

"Yeah?" You have no idea where this is going, but at least her hand has stilled for the moment.

"I like you."

"Yeah, well, I like you too; that's why I invite you over."

You let out a nervous laugh. Hoping to deflect the conversation from going where you think it's going. Kate props herself up on her elbow so she's lying above you, lightly grabs your jaw, and turns your head to face her.

"No, I like you, like, a lot."

She says, and you can tell by the way she's looking at you exactly what she means. This has to be a dream.

"I like you too, like a lot."

Kate looks like she wants to devour you. Instead, she lays back down, keeping her head slightly above yours.

"I want to try something; if you want me to stop, just tell me."

You nod eagerly, hoping it has something to do with getting rid of the ache that's been growing between your legs for an hour now.

"Words: pretty girl." Oh god, that nickname.

"Yes, yes," you say breathlessly.

"Ok, and you have to promise to keep paying attention."

Kate slowly moves her hand from your stomach, down past your belly button, and to the waistband of your shorts. She looks at you questioningly, making sure you're okay with this. You nod your head, giving her permission to continue.

She slides her hand under the waistband of your shorts, her fingers gliding over your skin. She moves her hand lower and lower until she reaches the hem of your panties. Kate looks at you again, her blue eyes dark with desire.

"You're so wet."

She whispers, her fingers lightly grazing your clit through the fabric of your panties. You let out a soft moan, your hips involuntarily bucking up towards her hand.

"Do you want me to touch you?"

She asks, her voice low and husky.

"Yes, please."

You whimper, desperately wanting more of her touch. Kate slowly slides your panties to the side, exposing your wet folds to the cool air. She runs a finger along your slit, coating it in your juices. You're so wet that it's dripping down your thighs.Kate brings her finger to her mouth, tasting you.

"Mmm, you taste so good."

She says before diving back in, this time pressing her finger inside of you. You cry out at the sudden intrusion, your walls clenching around her finger. She starts to pump her finger in and out of you, slowly at first but gradually increasing her speed.

"Oh fuck, Kate."

You moan, your head falling back against the couch cushion. Kate adds a second finger, stretching you further. She curls her fingers inside of you, hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

"That's it, baby. Let me hear you."

Kate says, her breath hot against your ear. She starts to rub tight circles on your clit with her thumb while continuing to fuck you with her fingers. The dual stimulation is too much, and you feel your orgasm rapidly approaching.

"I'm going to cum."

You warn, your walls starting to flutter around Kate's fingers.

"Come for me, pretty girl. Come all over my hand."

Kate commands, her fingers and thumb moving even faster. With a few more thrusts, you're flying.Kate's fingers are relentless, pumping in and out of you at a rapid pace.

Her thumb rubs tight circles on your clit, the pressure just right to send you over the edge. Your walls clench around her fingers as your orgasm crashes over you. You cry out her name, your body shaking with the intensity of it. Kate doesn't stop, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm, drawing it out until you're a boneless, satisfied mess.

As you come down from your high, Kate slowly removes her fingers from inside you. She brings them to her mouth, licking your juices off of them.

"You taste even better than I imagined."

She says with a satisfied grin. You're still trying to catch your breath, your chest heaving.

"Wow, that was..."

You trail off, not quite sure how to put into words what you just experienced. Kate chuckles, pulling you closer to her.

"That was just the beginning, pretty girl."

She says, her lips brushing against your ear. You shudder at the promise in her voice.You turn your head to face her, your noses barely an inch apart.

"So, does this mean we're dating now?"

You ask, a coy smile on your face.

"Only if you want to."

Kate replies, her eyes searching yours.

"I definitely want to."

You say without hesitation. And it's true, you've wanted this for so long. To be with Kate, to feel her touch, to have her as yours. Kate closes the distance between you, pressing her lips against yours in a searing kiss. You melt into her, your hands coming up to tangle in her hair. She tastes like you, like sex and desire. The kiss is deep and passionate, conveying all the pent-up feelings you both have for each other. When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless.

"I love you."

Kate whispers, her forehead resting against yours.

"I love you too."

You reply, your heart so full it feels like it might burst.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Could you please write a G!P Donna fic where Reader finds it incredibly hot whenever Donna finishes inside of her. Idk I just want more Donna smut in my life. I appreciate your contributions to the Fandom.

Yess!!!! Thank you for your request and for your kind words!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes :))))

Take me in the church

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI

Word count: 4,904

Summary: Maybe to go to church was a good idea after all...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“Give me another one,” the Angie doll said, pretending to think about what her master move was going to be in such a simple game.

“As you wish...” You hummed, amused by her lack of care, taking another card from the small pile. “Mm, 23, you went too far, I win again.”

“What? 23 is greater than 17,” the doll protested, indignant at your invincible list of victories. You rolled your eyes and shuffled the cards again.

“I've told you a thousand times, Angie. If you go over 21, you lose,” you explained, putting a card in front of each one again.

“Cheater!” The puppet screeched, enraged because she was unable to defeat you. You laughed amused, taking the opportunity to give the puppet a gentle push.

“I never cheat... Only in love,” you joked, looking at your card and bringing the rest closer to Angie.

“Donna won't like to know that,” the doll threatened, to which you raised your eyebrow.

“Give me a card and shut up," you said, making another attempt to destabilize Angie's fragile balance.

Why were you playing blackjack with a porcelain doll? The answer was anything but simple.

Born and raised in a remote village, your life was never interesting. Only that strange cult, those creatures, could make you live some kind of adventure. But not even the adrenaline that you and your friends experienced while running away from some Lycans could compare to what you felt that day, the day when your desire for exploration took you to go to forbidden places.

Nobody knew what exactly was behind that blazon of a moon and a sun. No one knew exactly what or who Donna Beneviento was. She was a Lord, serving the supreme witch, Mother Miranda. Her dark and mysterious figure gave rise to many legends, many rumors, each one more extravagant.

You figured you must have been afraid to meet her, when she caught you snooping around her grounds. Quite the opposite. That air of mystery, that stoic pose, that black cloth hiding her face. Fear was the last thing you felt.

Surely that attitude of yours of ignoring or evading problems with a good dose of charisma was what scared Donna, at least enough for her not to kill you by setting foot on her estate.

A simple villager, that's what you were, but one who wasn't afraid of her, one who didn't hesitate to smile at her presence. Saving your life was the first of her miracles. Falling in love was the second.

Shy, sick and lonely, Donna had no one but her doll, anyone who wanted to talk to her, or at least try to. You came into her life the same way she came into yours, accidentally, but that didn't mean it was something temporary. No, it wasn’t temporary at all.

The talks became a routine. You even left your friends aside to enter that dark forest every day, becoming more and more interested in her, until her interest inevitably turned into attraction.

Donna had a lot of things to learn. She didn't know about love, about people. You weren't a particularly patient girl, but with her, it was different. After an innocent time, of kisses, of caresses, of Donna's fear of showing her face. The rainy afternoon in which your lips did the work arrived, colliding with hers. “You are beautiful,” you said as you looked at her wounded face, the beauty that horrible black fabric hid.

Everything else was a matter of time. You stopped living in the village to live with her, you left everything behind, and you didn't regret it. You have never been happier.

“What do you have?” You asked, carefully studying your possibilities.

“18,” Angie said, with a threatening tone. It would be better to let her win that time...

“Wow, I'm 16, you win,” you said amused, preventing the doll from seeing what cards you really had. A sinister laugh invaded the room. Oh, maybe it was a mistake, now she’d be rubbing her victory in your face for all eternity.

Fortunately the sound of the elevator interrupted the doll's mocking songs. Donna spent hours in her workshop and you didn't want to bother her, well, most of times.

Her mourning figure appeared in front of you, walking slowly and elegantly. You frowned.

“Look, the Ghost of Christmas Past,” you murmured amused, getting up from the ground and walking towards the lady in black. “Donna, what are you doing with the veil on?” You asked curiously, moving the black fabric away to kiss her lips.

“Mother Miranda is going to give a sermon in the church,” the lady explained, with that soft, hoarse voice that betrayed its lack of use. You rolled your eyes, disappointed.

“Today?” You asked with disappointment in your eyes. She nodded slowly, caressing your cheek in a sweet, messy way. You loved that innocent way of loving you. Well, innocent most of times.

“That's how Mother Miranda wanted it,” she said, making your stomach clench because of your anger. You hated that the priestess was always one step above you.

“But, Donna...” You sighed, lowering your hands to her waist and gently pulling her body, putting on your best pleading face. “Today is our special day,” you lamented.

She tilted her head, curious about that phrase.

“If I haven't counted wrong, there are still three months until our anniversary, (Y/N),” she said, amused, letting to be hugged.

You shook your head.

“No, is not that. You don’t remember? Today is the day you lost your…” You purred in her ear, making the lady in black step back, embarrassed.

“Okay, okay, yes, I remember. You don't need to say it,” she said shyly, avoiding your gaze. You laughed amused, raising and lowering your eyebrows seductively.

You knew that sex, like love or human relationships, was a unknown subject for Donna. She was never with anyone. She never had the chance to experience something like that, at least until you came. That fact made her feel stupid, a loser. You kept reminding her that she wasn't and, well, you didn't care about her body, nor about the changes that the Cadou had caused on it.

“I had thought we could celebrate... Maybe in the forest, like that time,” you whispered in the best seductive voice you could muster, one that you knew made her shiver.

Donna laughed, but she shook her head, putting the hands on your chest to keep you from coming any closer. Surely if you did, she would have fallen into temptation.

“I'm sorry, tesoro... But I have to go,” she said with a sad tone, alleviating your disappointment with a kiss on the cheek. “You can come with me.”

“Me? To church?” You asked ironically, crossing your arms. The lady nodded again, picking Angie up from the floor and holding her in her arms.

“Mother Miranda knows you all. It's not the first time she's asked about you,” Donna commented, walking towards the door, closely followed by your disappointed figure. You mumbled something incomprehensible, luckily.

“Well, let her keep asking,” you said with a dry tone, looking away from the lady. “I don't care.”

“Please, my love, do it for me. I don't want anything to happen to you,” your girlfriend pleaded, holding your hand and trying to destabilize your cocky pose. You looked away with a disinterested gasp.

“Oh...” You sighed, shaking your head. “No, I better wait for you here.”

"Come on, then we could take a romantic walk in the forest, like you wanted,” Donna said, insisting almost desperately.

“Donna...” You growled, in the face of that cruel blackmail that certainly wasn't that cruel. “Oh, okay, okay, you win, I'll go with you. But then we'll do what I want, deal?”

“Thank you, tesoro,” she said, happy to have won that dialectical battle, giving you another kiss on the cheek as a reward and taking your hand, dragging your reluctant body towards the door.

“You owe me one, huh?” You said, closing the door behind you. Donna nodded effusively and pulled you across the grounds. You certainly didn't really want to go to that church.

The road was hectic, but it was true that walking with her in a place other than the old house was refreshing, and not just because of the cold of that place.

The church was packed, full of villagers who used to be your neighbors. The regret of being there hit you hard when their gaze was directed towards you, followed by an indiscreet whisper, which was surely talking about you.

“What are you looking at?” You asked one of your former friends, who immediately turned his head away as Donna led you by the hand to a secluded corner of the building.

“Stay here, my love... Don't worry, I won't be long,” Donna whispered to you, caressing your hand and leaning to kiss you through the black fabric of her face.

You sighed and shook your head, watching as she walked away from to take her traditional spot near the altar. Looking around, you leaned against the wall with your arms crossed. At least you weren't around those suspicious glances.

“(Y/N), what a surprise,”  a velvety voice brought you out of your thoughts. Her winged figure and her ridiculous priestess robes gave her away from miles. Miranda.

“Mother Miranda,” you said without much interest. Maybe you were putting too much trust in the relationship you had with Donna. Maybe you shouldn't be so brazen, showing your disdain for the village leader.

“I'm very happy to know that Donna has managed to bring you back to the path of the Black Gods,” she said amused, with a sardonic smile under that golden mask. You frowned and sighed, holding back your urge to swear.

“She’s very convincing,” you murmured, looking at the lady in black, who didn't take her gaze off of you.

“I guess so,” the priestess commented, placing a cold hand on your shoulder and walking, fortunately, away from you.

At least you were standing and didn't have the ability to fall asleep. The sermon was boring, sinister as always. You were very tired of pretending that this woman was a Goddess or something, but it would be better to play along and pretend, for your own sake, and maybe Donna's.

Even so, you couldn't help but look at the lady in black from time to time, with a mocking smile, mocking Miranda's words with extravagant grimaces. Just as you thought, that had its effect, causing Donna to shift nervously in her chair, hiding her laughter from her siblings and her Goddess.

“Go with the blessing of the Gods, dear subjects,” Miranda finally said, extending her arms in an extravagant way, making those present bow and little by little left the building along with the rest of the Lords, except Donna, who stood up slowly, walking towards you.

“I shouldn't have brought you here,” she whispered, annoyed but amused, crossing her arms. You shrugged, pushing that horrible fabric away again and kissing her lips quickly and exaggeratedly.

“You sure had fun,” you joked, to which she responded with a quick tap on your shoulder and one of those adorable shy giggles.

“Yes, and that's not right,” she protested, taking your hand, caressing it slowly while Angie surrounded you with her usual teasing.

“I can't help it, I love seeing you smile,” you whispered in her ear, making her laugh again and shake her head.

“You haven't seen me,” she said, pointing to her veil.

“But I know you smiled,” you joked again, taking a look at that small chapel. “This place gives me chills. What about that walk?”

“I would love to, (Y/N),” Donna sighed, walking towards the exit.

You felt relieved, but before you could leave the church, something caught your attention. You had never been the best of believers, and you had never paid attention to the altar of that building. Your curiosity made you walk towards it, where some old photographs were framed next to the annoying Mother Miranda's prayer to the Black Gods.

“What are you doing?” The lady in black asked, following you cautiously. You pointed to one of the photographs, hers.

“Nothing, just taking a look," you said. “Seriously, Donna, that photo?”

“What’s wrong with it?” She asked curiously, looking at her own gray and sad portrait.

“Why do you always look like a wandering soul?” You joked, making her step back confused.

“It's just a photo, (Y/N)” she whispered, annoyed by your comment. “Let's take that walk.”

The tug she gave on your wrist was useless, since you had no intention of moving from that place. The empty and mysterious church stopped giving you chills to send other types of ideas and sensations to your body, some dangerous ideas.

“Come on, (Y/N), we can't stay here,” she told you hurriedly, as if your look was giving away your intentions.

“Why not? Is prohibited?” You asked amused, playing with the offerings that were on a small table.

“Well, not technically, but...” Donna murmured, stopping you from putting a grape in your mouth and leaving it back in the basket. “Come on, stop fooling around and…”

“What? I'm not doing anything wrong,” you said amused, with a dark look, sitting in the chair occupied by the lady in black during the sermons.

“Didn't you want to go for a walk that much?” Donna asked, looking around her, checking that the doors were closed and no one could see your audacity.

“Yes, but now I feel like being here,” you said ironically, crossing your legs. “You, heretic, you are going to be devoured by wolves for hiding your beauty,” you joked, making her sigh and shake her head.

“Heretic, heretic!” Angie repeated, jumping up and pointing at poor Donna, who snorted in annoyance.

“Look what you've done, you've excited Angie,” the lady in black complained, who extended her hand toward the puppet to keep it still.

“Have I excited you too?” You purred standing up from the chair and hanging tenderly around her neck, making Donna walk backwards until her back hit the wall.

“What? Oh, (Y/N), please don't...” She said, her breathing labored by your approach, being interrupted by a finger that was placed under her veil and rested on her lips.

“Shh, be quiet, Beneviento, this is a church,” you whispered in her ear, biting her earlobe, making her squirm, trapped between you and the wall.

“You're making me nervous, tesoro,” she said, avoiding your caresses as best she could. Your lust had been unleashed and the naughty thoughts that ran through your mind only grew stronger and stronger, as did your desire.

“Am I? Great,” you joked, tilting the black fabric from her face to be able to kiss her better, to be able to deepen that kiss in a hot and sensual way.

“We must, we must go,” Donna stammered, releasing from your grip and adjusting her veil.

“No, no,” you joked, grabbing her wrist and moving poor Donna against the wall again.

“Don't do that, per favore,” she begged, while you moved her veil away again and brought your body even closer to hers. You laughed when you saw her so nervous. Oh yeah, that was going to be funny.

“Your sweet words aren't going to save you now,” you whispered, enjoying her confused and nervous look. “If you want to get out of here, you have to confess yourself, my love.”

“What? Confess?” She asked, shaking her head. She was terribly nervous. You could see it in her trembling. That was something you planned to use to your advantage.

“Come on, it will be funny,” you said with a smile, this time more tender, caressing her cheek. You wanted to make her nervous, but you didn't want her to lose her temper. Anything but that.

“I think we have different concepts of what is funny, tesoro,” she said, laughing nervously, but also, with some amusement.

“Well, whatever you want, I'll start,” you said, still smiling, making her open her mouth to say something, but she regretted it at the last moment. Maybe you have gotten her curious. “Do you want to know what my confession is?”

Your hot words and cheeky whispers made her entire body suddenly tense, finally knowing what your intentions might be. Donna just stared at you and shook her head, slowly.

You bit your lip and approached her ear again, feeling her heavy breathing very close to you.

“I confess that I love when you cum inside of me,” you whispered with a low voice, with a mischievous smile. “Nothing makes me feel better than your sem…”

“(Y/N), stop that,” Donna said, getting even more upset, blushing at your rude words, something that always made her excited, even if she denied it. “You know I hate when you talk that way.”

You raised an eyebrow, but didn't move away from her, running your hand down her body to the small bulge noticeable between her legs.

“Well, it seems like your body is happy with my confession,” you joked, caressing her budding erection through the fabric of her dress, causing her to gasp in embarrassment and turn her head away. “You are so sensitive… I love it, Donna.”

“Come on, let's go. We can, we can continue talking about this at home,” she said, stammering, repressing her desire to close her eye and let herself be carried away by the pleasure of your caresses.

You shook your head, directing your lips to her neck, kissing it lovingly, sinking your teeth into her skin, making her gasps become less and less discreet.

“No, my love. Not at home,” you said seductively. “We’re going to talk here.”

She shook her head, grabbing your wrist so her erection wouldn't be released from her dress.

“W, wait, (Y/N), not here,” she said, almost surrendered to the pleasure, a terribly exciting sight for you.

You crossed your arms, but didn’t desist in your actions, kissing her on the lips to silence her fears. Donna was partly right, someone could show up there at any moment, but that only made it more exciting, even more so when Angie was lying limp on the floor.

“What is my punishment for my sins, Donna?” You asked, bringing her hand to your chest, making her caress your body inside your dress. No matter how much she denied it, the situation was also exciting for her.

“Your... Your punishment?” She asked, her voice cracking with pleasure, from feeling your naked skin in such a forbidden place. She was already yours, she couldn't escape anymore, and she didn't want to do it either.

You nodded with your most relaxed gaze, searching hers for any sign that this was too much for her. You could see her nervousness, but her arousal was much more evident, which made you continue.

“Maybe you want me to kneel and beg for your forgiveness, do you want that, darling?” You asked, lowering yourself to the floor slowly until the wood collided with your knees and your hands traveled along the black fabric of her dress.

Donna didn't know how to respond, she just looked around again and then at you, as if her conscience was fighting, deciding whether or not it was a good idea. After a sigh of relief, a slightly sinister smile formed on her face.

“Okay, fine, kneel, (Y/N), but if it's a punishment, it'll have to look like one, don't you think?” She told you with a nervous voice, but with that point of seduction that revealed her excitement, apart from her body, of course.

“Oh… And what is it going to be?” You asked, making big eyes and a face like a good girl who wanted to be punished.

“You won't see my face,” she whispered, bending down to take your chin and kiss you before covering herself with the veil, making you bite your lip again.

“Oh... Well, your face isn't exactly what I wanted to look at...” You teased, playing with the black fabric until her shaft was freed from its prison, shiny, hard from your words and your lack of sense of risk.

“You better use your mouth for something different than talking. I don't want to hear you,” she said, grabbing your hair with her hand, releasing a dominant side that you didn't know about, but that sent a wave of pleasure between your legs.

You laughed at the obvious shyness that her words still betrayed, but you obeyed immediately, grabbing her erection and kissing the tip, running your tongue delicately over her skin, making her entire body shiver with pleasure.

You moaned against her as her hand forced your mouth down, to surround her length with your lips in a hasty manner. In that way, her haste was revealed, but you, oh, no, you were in no hurry at all and you managed to be the one who controlled the pace.

“Hurry up, (Y/N),” the lady in black demanded as your hand joined the movements, matching the rhythm of your mouth. You smiled wickedly, licking her shaft again, ceasing the gentle movements of your hand to make her moan at the lack of contact.

You shook your head, lingering on the tip with an almost painful slowness, causing her grip on your hair to tighten, lifting your head towards her.

“What have I told you?” Donna asked, with her face hidden by her veil, something you didn't think would excite you that much. “Come on, hurry up, get it over with.”

“Hurrying is not good, Donna,” you said amused, only using your hand to stimulate her, making her protest with a snort and a strong tug on your hair. No, no, you weren't going to let the fun end so soon, but hey, you didn't want to make poor Donna suffer either. Her erection trembled anxiously as your lips surrounded it again, this time moving faster and faster, in a constant rhythm that elicited soft, discreet moans from the lady in black.

“That, that's it... I'm so close,” she murmured, following your movements with her hand buried in your hair. That was the signal for you to move away from her, for your mouth to abruptly leave her erection, causing Donna to protest by hitting her fist against the chapel wall.

“What the hell are you doing? Keep going, (Y/N),” she said nervously, annoyed by your attitude and the things you forced her to do. You ignored her words and grabbed her hand, leading her to the altar.

“Who's the rude one now, huh?” You ironized, putting your hand in your dress to let your underwear hang from one of your ankles while you sat on that small altar, next to the photographs and sermons of that sinister cult. “Come here, Donna.”

The doll maker breathed heavily, nervously, but she obeyed, approaching your outstretched legs and grabbing them tightly, digging her nails into your skin.

“I will never forgive you for this,” she hissed angrily, as her hips got closer and she positioned her erection at your wet and hungry entrance, making the moans now yours.

You murmured in satisfaction when you noticed her shaft slowly entering you, making your body stretch to let it pass, a sensation that you loved almost as much as what you had confessed a few minutes before.

“Wait, slow down, you're big, Donna,” you said when you saw how rushed she was. She looked at you, but you couldn't know how, that black veil hid her face, as well as her intentions.

“Does it hurt?” She asked, with a sinister tone, going deeper and deeper until she was completely inside of you. You shook your head, hissing at the feeling of your walls tightening around her prominent erection.

“It doesn’t, but you know that I need some time to...” You said amused, closing your eyes due to the sensations that her movements sent to your body.

“I already told you...” She said, grabbing your legs, spreading them further apart to gain more access when she began to move her hips. “…That we don't have time.”

“Oh, Donna,” you moaned, letting yourself be carried away by her erratic thrusts, by the sound of the objects on the altar shaking from the movement. “Yes, yes, keep going…”

She just moaned in response, keeping a steady pace, enjoying the way your body adapted to her seamlessly. It was a quick, improvised, passionate act, far from routine. You couldn't ask for more in a special day like that.

The possible dangers and risks of doing it in a place like that were clouded by the pleasure, by how Donna moved inside you, by how your advances had that effect on her. She was weak, susceptible to temptation. At that moment you were the tempting demon, and she was the poor sinner who let herself be carried away by your words.

That situation, combined with seeing the photograph of the stupid Mother Miranda trembling under Donna’s thrusts, was much better than you thought. An act of revenge on your part, an act of love that was superior to Miranda’s simple, confusing sermons.

“You're so tight, (Y/N),” Donna commented, letting you know that her modesty had disappeared the moment you made that confession. Donna was shy but her body made her say or do those kind of things when she was as excited as she was at the moment. You could feel it. You could feel her hard penis crying out for its release.

You smiled, biting your lip and reaching out your hand to take hers, so not to make this a purely carnal act. The love you felt was far superior to that pleasure and you knew that the lady in black loved to feel loved, to feel that for you it was more than just a funny time.

“I love you, Donna,” you whispered, moving your hips when she stopped, confused by your words, breathing hard.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, stopping digging her nails into your skin, forgetting what she was doing for a moment.

“Come on, keep going, I'm close,” you said, shaking your body to make her resume her movements, something she did hurriedly, but slower, romantically. Unexpected, impromptu sex was fine, but when Donna got romantic… That was something out of this world.

“Is that true, (Y/N)?” She asked, controlling the intensity of her movements, preventing her near release from preventing you from feeling yours. “Is it true that you like me to do it inside?”

You widened your eyes at those rude words coming out of her covered mouth. Her movements were becoming more precise, sliding smoothly inside you, making a feint to get out, which made you look at her with wide eyes.

“Yes, Donna, it’s true, please... I need it,” you said with a pleading tone, seeing her intentions, seeing what punishment she had thought for you.

“But what kind of punishment would that be?” Donna asked, amused, playing with her hips, continuing to give you that pleasure, that feeling that you wouldn't get what you wanted so much. “Maybe I should do it outside, don't you think? That's how you would learn.”

“You wouldn't dare,” you hissed, moving your hips closer until your body was completely on the edge of that sinister altar.

“I don’t know, it depends on you,” she said in a distracted voice, raising your legs and moving her hips elegantly, emphasizing the pleasure that her thrusts gave you.

“I'll be good, I promise,” you said pleadingly, noticing how tension began to form in your body. Just thinking about her release made yours even closer.

“Mm,” she murmured, increasing her speed, not being able to control the pleasure she felt. You noticed her erection trembling more and more, getting closer to filling you up.

When you knew the end was near, your body sent you one of the best orgasms you had ever experienced, releasing your legs from her grip and moving them in a disorderly manner, while your screams began to echo through that small chapel.

“How scandalous...” Donna said, suppressing her own moans as she felt your walls holding her tightly, preventing her from leaving your body.

Before you could respond, a loud moan followed yours. Donna leaned over you, releasing herself the way you wanted, inside of you. Her heat invaded your insides, caressing it in a wet and pleasant way, in a way that made your body cry out for another release, which did not take long to arrive, making you lean over her and hug her intensely while you felt her heat slid off your body, soaking your dress.

“It’s been good, huh?” You said amused, getting up from the altar, dedicating one last superb look at the priestess's portrait while Donna kept her shame in her dress, trying to catch her breath.

“We shouldn't have done that,” she murmured, shaking her head and picking up poor, inert Angie from the floor.

“That's what you say now. You loved it,” you joked, giving her a nudge, which made her head turn quickly towards you.

“Shut up. Don’t even mention it. I don't want to hear about this again, is that clear?” Donna said shyly, embarrassed, to which you rolled your eyes and ran after her, leaving the church.

“Should we take a walk?”

[matrixbearer2024]

Since the poll is practically over and the outfit's largely been decided, I'll be dropping the first post to the strip challenge in a couple hours on my Ford Blog @gftimelord to christen it HAHAHHA- (psst go bother him it'll be funny HAHHAHAH) Thanks for the interaction everybody, I only hope to deliver. Here's the first drabble to start it off with since I am pairing every drawing with a story sequence as promised. You could probably think of this as my interpretation for some kind of continuation to Ford's route in "Swooning Over Stans" by @gfdatingsim since I've genuinely been non-stop playing that game since it's recommendation to me. I will balance med proper and my delulu if it's the last thing I do HAHAHAHA-

Reply to this post as well if you want to be pinged for whenever this challenge updates!

I Accept Your Challenge!

(Stanford Pines x Reader)

After you heard a new challenge becoming trendy among couples you decide to try it on a certain Stanford Pines; just... you didn't exactly explain to him what the challenge was.

Maybe his competitiveness was a good thing in this case. You at least got a bloody good show out of his cluelessness.

Another slow summer day and you were in the living room of the mystery shack alongside the Pines as they went about doing whatever. Navigating your relationship with a certain scientist definitely somewhat of a learning curve but you digressed. Similar to Dipper and Mabel, you'd receive post cards from the twins about their seafaring adventures; your mail just came with additional special letters from your beloved. All of which you'd neatly stowed away in a bag that you always had with you, no use keeping it at home when you were rarely there.

Often traveling for a nomadic lifestyle was serene and fun at times, but you found yourself missing this place. It felt more like a home to you than your own place did in the couple weeks you'd stuck around after your car got smashed into the side of the log cabin.

Who knew that the same man who totaled your car one day would be the same adorable nerd you now called your lover?

It felt a bit like those romance dramas Stan liked to watch but you quickly dismissed that thought. Fairytales weren't real, fate isn't exactly something you believed in either. Stories of princesses finding their prince charmings were mostly smoke and mirrors, things you'd tell a child to give them hope of a better world than reality.

In gravity falls however... you quickly learned that nothing was truly impossible. Never say never in this small town of Oregon.

You sat on the floor next to Dipper and Mabel as they boredly flipped through TV channels; books, papers and crayons littered about around the three of you. The glass danced with colors from the rapidly flipping images while the twins struggled to find anything even remotely entertaining to watch, you couldn't help but allow your mind to wander from the boredom.

You and Ford spent quite a bit of time since you'd arrived at the beginning of the week, frankly you'd made the trip as soon possible when Stan shot you a message that they'd finally docked to spend the summer with the kiddos. You hoped it wasn't all that obvious how much you missed Stanford, but you didn't really need to worry when he was the one who immediately swamped you up in a hug the second you were out of your car. It's only been two years thus far since you've known the man but Stanley and Mabel insisted that you stay with him in his room, you didn't know why they were so adamant until you saw the state of the man's living quarters.

A whole day was spent with the both of you furnishing and cleaning the said room because of that but neither of you complained, most of the time was spent goofing off anyway.

Now... you were wondering where Ford was, not to mention what he was doing. Was he down in the lab tinkering again? You didn't want to disturb him, but you really wanted to find him. Any time spent apart didn't feel like time used to it's full capacity, even if you did enjoy the company of the other Pines; it just wasn't the same.

At some point, you were bored enough to not necessarily care whether you'd be disturbing Ford's work or not when you went down to the lab. It was just last summer when he taught you how to get down there, as well as spilling more about his past. All of which you simply listened to unless he asked anything; it was better to listen and attempt to understand than say or do something that would make it worse.

Seems like he really wanted to get it off his chest too, be transparent with you; something you appreciated.

You were shaken out of your headspace when you heard the rustling of boxes from the lab, as well as some hushed but frustrated cursing. You didn't really recall a time Ford swore unless he was legitimately ticked off, the man made a valiant effort not to compared to his twin.

But they both had sailor mouths anyhow even if it was fitting.

"Ford? Are you down here?"

"Ah-! [Y/N]! What- what are you doing down here?"

You moved closer to him in an attempt to see what he was doing, even if the man looked a bit rattled to be found like this by you.

"What are you doing?"

"I asked first my dear."

Ford chuckled, shifting to hide something behind his back. You pouted at him and crossed your arms. He couldn't help but smile at how cute you looked doing that.

"Was looking for you, Dipper and Mabel are bored watching TV upstair anyway... sooooo- what are you doing?"

You smiled when Ford returned your inquisitiveness with a small laugh, showing you what he held in his hand. A pair of goggles?

"What's that for?"

"I was attempting to sort through which of my belongings I could still use among the ones I wish to discard. Inadvertently I ended up finding these, I think I could still make use of them."

You tilted your head at him as a silent prompt to continue, it took every bit of control from Ford not to laugh again. You looked like a curious puppy, though he figured he shouldn't say that outright.

"It's simply among the items I collected and kept with me through my time in the multiverse. Protective eyewear can be useful for many things."

"Huh, if you have that— does it mean you still have the rest of the outfit?"

Now it was your turn to think Ford was being cute, he just wordlessly blinked at you in surprise. Was your request really that odd? You'd barely seen him in any other outfit combinations, of course you'd be curious.

"I—... I think I do? Why do you ask?"

"Do you think you'd still be able to rock it like you used to?"

"'Used to'? Excuse me?"

"I mean, it's been a couple years... why don't you try it on again?"

Ford laughed once again from your teasing, the way you sassily tried to goad him on was entertaining in it's own right. He was a bit on the fence about the whole outfit however, especially due to the memories associated with it.

It's not that bad compared to some things he'd found though... maybe he could indulge you.

"Hm..."

"I-I mean, if you really don't want to—"

Your panicked stammering was cut short when a warm palm cupped your cheek, meeting Stanford's eyes as he pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. He could feel your skin heat in up in his hand, hiding a cheeky smile in your hair as he held you there.

"I'll show it to you... as soon as I can find the rest of the outfit."

Ford couldn't help but smile wider when your cheerful laugh rang out; it's the best sound to ever have graced his ears in the time he's been alive. A bit surprising given how many things he's been exposed to, but he couldn't name another chime so pleasant.

"I'll hold you to that Ford."

"And I accept your challenge my dear."

YEAAAAH HERE IT ISSSS- TEXT THING CUZ WE NEED INTRODUCTION-

[milaatyourworst]

"Why can't you say it back?" Madison Beer

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

warnings: might be some grammar errors. idk what else tbh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For as long as you could remember, all your relationships ended the same way. You never could say 'I love you' back. It was as if the words got stuck in your throat. You choked. Usually, everything came out like word vomit, but not those. Those words were like a path a vulnerability you were not ready to take. And it wasn't your fault, you don't think. You never received an 'i love you' as a kid. So you never experienced love. It was like it never existed in your world.

Madison made you feel things you never thought you could. She did everything you never got to receive as a kid. She gave you hugs, which you thought you hated. You told yourself you hated physical touch, but when Madison touched you, a sense of warmth filled your body. You'd never admit it though. The thought of enjoying someone else's touch was horrifying. Her words were so sweet. They felt so scripted. All the compliments she gave you, you never believed them. When she told you you were pretty, you couldn't bring yourself to accept it. You could never bring yourself to tell her. You didn't want to hurt her feelings.

Unfortunately, you did. She got frustrated when you wouldn't open up to her. She went on and on about how communication was the key to good relationships. You didn't say a single word. You physically couldn't. The words were stuck in your throat. All you could do was nod. Not that that was any different from what you do. Communication wasn't something you were good at. You were trying, at least you thought you were. It's not that you couldn't trust her, you were scared too. You never opened up about your feelings. Mostly because you never knew exactly what you were feeling. Just the thought of talking to someone about your feelings freaked you out. More than you could admit. It was one thing speaking about it, but to speak about it without crying was difficult.

The first time Madison said anything remotely close to 'i love you', you froze. She had offered you the world, and you couldn't do the same. She couldn't understand why you were so hesitant. It had been 2 years, why couldn't you say it back? Thankfully, she understood. Even if it took a few words out of you, she was patient. She waited. Always.

That's what you liked about her. She always waited. Even if you never thought you would be ready, she stayed. One of her best qualities. One of her bad qualities, however, was asking questions. Too many questions. She overthought, a lot. Wondered if you even liked her. You did. Wondered if you even loved her. Did you?

That was something you never asked yourself. Did you actually love Madison? And if you did, why couldn't you say it back?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There you were, laying on her bed. You didn't deserve this. Madison was the best girlfriend you could ever ask for. She was so sweet. You wanted nothing but happiness for her and you felt you weren't giving her that. For gods sake, you couldn't even say 'i love you' back.

Madison sat in her gamer chair, playing her favorite game- Dress to Impress. She looked so happy just with her game. You wanted to speak to her so bad, but you felt that you would be a bother. Like always. So you sat in silence.

Eventually, she broke it.

"Hey, baby?"

"Hm?" Your gaze moved up to meet her hazel eyes. Those eyes. She smiled.

"Do you want to do anything else? I know I've just been playing for hours and hours. You just been sitting in silence and I know you like that but-" She rambled. She tended to do that a lot. It didn't bother you. You never liked speaking. "Anyway, do you want to like- watch a movie or something?"

You thought for a moment. A movie, in Madison's words meant- cuddles, snacks, blankets and of course, a movie. In your mind it meant- fattening snacks you'd never be able to forgive yourself for eating, blankets that just makes you sweaty, a movie you'll never even pay attention to, and cuddles which meant touching.

"I don't know." You mumbled. She hated when you mumbled. But you never knew how to stop. It was a habit of yours. And you were working on it, you think.

Madison gave you a cold glare. "You can't just say 'I don't know'. You know you want to do something."

She was right. You did want to do something. But you'd never tell her.

"I know you want to do something. What is it?" She stared into your eyes. Those eyes. You sat and stared. "You can't just sit and stare." She came closer to you. "Look, I love you. But these habits of yours are really starting to frustrate me-"

Before she could continue, you did what you always did. "Sorry."

Madison shook her head. "No, don't apologize. I just wish you could talk to me. I love you." You froze. "I know you hate that but it's been 4 years. Why can't you say it back?"

"I-" You attempted. No words came out. Your breathing sped up. Your heart beating faster. Why couldn't you say it back? You knew you did.

"Don't you love me back?" She whispered. Her gaze was soft and vulnerable. The exact look that you feared. You stared.

Why couldn't you say it back? You know you do. Yes Madison, I love you. It wasn't difficult. But it was.

"I love you. Why can't you say it back?"

Yes. i love you. i love you. i love you. Why can't you say it back?

"I-"

i love you. i love you. i love you.

"I hate you."

no idiot. i love you. i love you.

"What?" You watched as she stood up.

No no no no. Tell her. Tell her. i love you.

"I like you."

i love you. Why can't you say it back?

"What?" She sat back down. That's a start.

i love you.

"I love...you?"

yes. i love you.

Madison gasped. "Did you just-"

"I love you." You whispered. You felt yourself, for once in a while, smile. The biggest smile formed on Madison's lips.

"I love you."

i love you. i love you. i love you. i love you. i love you. You said it back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: its not that good but i felt like i needed to just write something along these lines. commitment issues is a really big thing a lot of people struggle with. i, for one struggle with the complete opposite but im starting to feel the side of fear of commitment.

[loveandmurders]

So I read your 'What Soulmate AU for which slasher?'

And I was wondering if you could write a story for Billy Loomis?

On your wrist: "You gonna die tonight, love"

On their wrist: "And fuck, of course my soulmate is a serial killer" 

Hello love and THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST!!!! Gosh, I've been so excited to write for it, so I hope you'll enjoy it very much <3

Request based on this post.

GHOSTFACE IS MY SOULMATE (Billy Loomis x female reader)

Warnings: no proof reading, morally grey reader, mentions of sexual desire, mentions of killing, Billy plans on killing you, a few strong words.

You were on your own that night. Your parents were out for a little dinner together; they were celebrating their wedding anniversary. You didn’t mind having the house all to yourself for once. You had cooked some noodles, as you were too lazy to do more, and you were distractedly watching TV. Actually, you were barely listening to whatever that was happening on the screen, as your eyes were on your wrist. Your fingers were tracing the words on your skin. Your family and friends always tease you for the first sentence your soulmate would ever say to you: You’re gonna die tonight, love. 

And you had to admit, you didn’t really get it.

Everyone had some “normal” stuff such as “Hey, my name is” or “Hey, I love your dress” or “It’s been a while I wanted to ask you out”. But no, you apparently couldn’t do the boring stuff and you had to have something about love and death. You weren’t too sure if it was a threat to be honest. It could be a sentence said during halloween for instance, or during a horror convention. You loved horror movies, so your family thought that you were gonna meet a guy or a girl or someone doing some slasher cosplay. You wanted to believe that too. It would be too strange for your soulmate to actually want to kill you, right? 

Plus you didn’t really see yourself like the kind of person who could attract serial killers; you weren't Sidney Prescott. You weren’t attracting troubles usually. In fact, your love for horror movies and gruesome stories had always surprised your relatives, because you seemed too sweet to enjoy that kind of thing.

You continued to stare at your wrist. Alright, your soulmate must also like horror stuff and probably enjoyed cosplays. It sounded like a fun soulmate, right? And the nickname showed that they were quite flirtatious. It sounded even better! 

You sighed as you stroked the “tonight” word. You couldn’t count all the time you hoped it would indeed be that night. So many of your friends had already met their mates, and even your parents found each other before your age. You started to worry. Of course, you still had a lot of time and some of your friends didn’t even have one word on their skin because their soulmate died before they met. You thought you were lucky that yours was still around, but you were getting impatient. Your parents told you you should date people even if they weren’t your soulmate, but it felt strange for you. You only wanted them, and no one else. It felt too wrong to kiss someone who wasn’t meant for you. Maybe you were too loyal and romantic.

You sighed once again, nibbling on your food. You tried to focus on the TV, so you would stop thinking about your soulmate. You relaxed a little and you told yourself that you needed to be patient, that one day you would find them and everything would be soft and happy. You grabbed the TV remote and you tried to find something good to watch. What was good when your parents weren’t home or close by was that you could watch whatever you wanted… Including very bloody and violent movies. You had always tried to play it cool about your love for horror movies and especially about slashers, but deep down, nothing was making you hornier than a big killer destroying life for the sake of it.

If you were really honest with yourself, you would admit you were a little bit jealous of the attention Sidney got from Ghostface. Of course, you knew you shouldn’t think something like that. But it sounded very hot. Such a pity you weren’t interesting enough for a killer, because you would love to be called in the middle of the night and threatened by a dangerous murderer... 

Damn, you really hoped your soulmate would understand something like that and wouldn’t think you were a weirdo. You tried to remind yourself that your mate couldn’t think something like that, because they would love all of you, even the darkest part of yourself.

You were wondering what Sidney had you didn’t though. You were sighing once again when the house phone rang and you jumped in surprise. You thought your mother was checking on you or that one of your friends wanted to chat around. Your mouth was full with noodles but you still took the phone, not saying a word while you were chewing. You waited for the person to talk, and you had to admit that you had the strange sensation of having eyes on you. It was a little bit unsettling, but you were probably getting paranoid because of your obsession and because of the local news constantly talking about Ghostface. You heard someone heavily breathing into the phone and you felt goosebumps spreading all over your skin. The sound was ominous and for an instant you had the sensation of being in one of your favourite horror movies. You swallowed your food and continued to wait for the person to speak. Your heart was beating so fast, as if you knew something was going to happen.

“You’re gonna die tonight, love” the stranger finally said and you rolled your eyes, almost face palming yourself.

“And fuck, of course my soulmate is a serial killer” you grumbled. There was a moment of silence after that. “Hey, you’re still there?” you asked

“You’re really messing my plans up, you know that I hope” the killer you guessed was Ghostface grumpily said

“Well, sorry about that… You can still kill me though” you teased. Truth to be told, knowing that your soulmate was a serial killer was making things a lot easier for you; you wouldn’t need to hide your liking for dangerous people at all. Fate was doing things well sometimes.

“I really should because you’ve always been a pain; did you really need to call me a “serial killer” in your first words to me? Always had to hide my wrist because of that.” they continued to argue and you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a little giggle

“Well if you were behaving, I wouldn’t have said that!” you hummed, finding the situation very funny

“You are enjoying yourself way too much, Y/N” Ghostface commented, but you could hear a slight hint of amusement in their voice.

“Maybe.” you smiled “Are you around then?” you asked as you started to look around yourself, trying to find from where the eyes were looking at you

“I am. But I need to find someone else to kill now.” they replied

“Oh, really?” you sounded disappointed “I mean, I’m glad you won’t kill me, but I thought we could meet in person right now?” you asked. You had waited for this moment your whole life, so you weren’t too eager to let them go that easily. Ghostface chuckled.

“So impatient. Don’t worry, love, I’ll be back. Let your room window open and I’ll meet you there in a little while.” they told you

“Promise?” you asked, a little bit worried they were going to disappear from your life now you just found them

“Promise.” they hummed before hanging up

You were on your bed, impatiently waiting for your serial killer. You were trying to read but you couldn’t focus on the words laying in front of your eyes. You parents weren’t back home yet, and you hoped Ghostface was going to show up before they could interrupt anything.

You heard a sound against your wall so you sat up, your heart beating so quickly once more. You nibbled on your bottom lip as you nervously played with your fingers. You had to admit that when the infamous Billy Loomis appeared at your window, you couldn’t believe it. You sat at the edge of your bed as he entered the room before leaning against the wall, the head tilted to the side. You watched each other in silence. Your heart calmed down now you were in the same room, and you could feel the bonds linking the two of you growing and becoming even stronger. You had always found Billy particularly hot, but a lot of people in school thought the same, and he knew it. You couldn’t have thought that the man was actually your soulmate. He finally softly smiled at you.

“Staying silent and not being all over me already? That’s good. You would have annoyed me otherwise” he said and you arched an eyebrow at him

“I knew that popularity was making people become assholes,” you teased and he laughed. He was liking you already. You were truly perfect. He had always thought that his soulmate would be afraid of him, or would be a problem in his masterplan, especially when the words on his wrists seemed to mean you knew the truth about him. But he shouldn’t have worried about it.

“You won’t call the police on me?” he asked you, just to make sure. You quickly shook your head.

“Of course not” you replied seriously this time “You’re my soulmate, I wouldn’t do something like that to you. I don’t mind you’re a killer. Actually, I’m not very surprised” you admitted and he smirked

“Yeah, I’ve noticed your little doodles about slashers in class. That’s why I picked you as my next target. I thought I could have some fun with you.” he told you

“You can still have some fun with me… Just a different kind of fun” you winked and he came closer to you, looking like a predator. He cupped your chin to make you look up at him.

“Already playing with fire, love” he hummed, his eyes were so dark and helding all kinds of promises “Maybe you shouldn’t trust me that easily. I was planning on killing you after all” he continued

“Key word: “was”, love” you smiled as you leaned into his touch. His fingers against your skin were sending electricity down your whole body. 

“Touché” he hummed and leaned so your lips were brushing against his. You boldly cupped his face and brought him even closer, so your mouth crashed onto his. He passionately answered your kiss and he made you lay down on the bed as he topped over you. He let you catch your breath for a second before leaning for another kiss. His touch was absolutely intoxicating and you just couldn’t get enough of him. You wrapped your legs around his waist and you heard him moan against your lips. He seemed to want you as badly as you wanted him. His hands were already freely roaming your body as you tried to press yourself impossibly closer to him.

“Are you gonna make out with me like that at school too?” you couldn’t help to ask, half teasing half serious

“Always” he groaned, clearly in need for more of you

“Thought you were with Sidney” you asked

“Shh, don’t worry, she’s soon to be dead anyways” he replied. His fingers were already under your top.

But you both stilled when you heard the front door being open and your mother calling your name.

“Shit” you mumbled with a pout on your lips. You had forgotten about your parents. Billy stroked your cheek and tried to calm down.

“Go downstairs. Spend some time with them. I’ll wait for them to go to bed to join you once again. You won’t get rid of me that easily” he darkly promised

“Oh yeah?” you teased, but deep down you were so relieved the man didn’t want to leave and was eager to spend as much time as possible with you. “You don’t have anything better to do?” you asked with a little smile.

“You need to make up for disturbing my plans, love” he teased back

“Y/N? You’re upstairs?” your father called for you

“Go, now, I’ll make up to you all you want tonight” you winked at him as you gently pushed him away from you, no matter how awful it felt.

“Promise?” he hummed, already knowing the answer

“Promise, my serial killer” you smiled. He stole another kiss from you before leaving your room.

Hopefully Sidney was going to be dead very soon so your boyfriend would be able to solely focus on you, you thought as you went downstairs, a smile on your face.

“How was your evening, mom, dad? Mine was really great” you said

“Ah yes?” your mother smiled at you, waiting for you to elaborate

“I think I’m in love” you hummed, your head full of love, death, kisses and chaos.

[secriden]

THK Episode 1 thoughts in no particular order or level of coherency:

I didn't see Fadel as Lawful Good coming, but at the same time it makes perfect sense now that I've seen the episode

Somehow, I now kinda ship First with both Joong and Dunk and I cannot explain it even to myself but damn.

Khaotung's ability to not just sound and act but nearly exude the presence of a naive innocent young man, head still in the clouds and dreaming of true love, is Truly Impressive. I actually believe, not only that he's younger than Fadel, but that he genuinely lacks the emotional maturity too even process the risk that Fadel sees.

I now appreciate so much what people said about First's almost understated detailed acting because those rapid shifts in his expressions said so much in tiny increments of time, I'm blown away.

Dunk is so pretty, Dunk is so pretty, DUNK IS SO FUCKING PRETTY!?!?!

But also please I adore everything Dunk did as Style he gave absolutely everything for that character and held nothing back. The way he just... went for it?? In all the scenes, every single one? I'm trying not to be too spoiler-y but damn, I get it when First said that Dunk really embodied Style because he really really DID!!!

That ending was genius my brain immediately lit up with all the ways this could go and I'm SO EXCITED

The way the sex wasn't even remotely the most insanity-inducing thing in this episode really goes to show how well this was made but also ITS HILARIOUS

Having said that, damn it was hot!!

Joong's eyebrows eyebrowing so hard <3

I don't think JoongDunk were meant to have sexual tension at all in this episode but they still felt very sexy to me. Maybe its just me, but it felt like tension even when Fadel is mostly just pissed off there's that... okay, you know how the opposite of love is not hate, but apathy? Guess what, zero apathy right here!!

I'm genuinely so happy with what we got though. It really is as light and silly and camp and gorgeous as they promised and I'm so so grateful for that. There's potential for devastation (I see you, Kant, hiding backstory hints inside your soft serve!), but also how lucky are we to get silly romantic shenanigans with the murder brother duo and their (future) flirty boyfriends???

Also the music!? Can we talk about THE MUSIC?? it was so... idk, like it was almost its own character in this episode. It was like audience direction with how much it would abruptly change the tone of the scene. I wonder if this will continue throughout the show or if they're doing it because it's the first episode and they're really really laying those comedy foundations down, but its fascinating.

I can't believe we get "Good Morning, krub" and "love at first sight" in the same episode omg ;A; <3

Style should've learned from the expert:

[jedisandspacepirates]

Thoughts on Jod Na Nawood and Where We Go From Here

So, Jod Na Nawood. Spoilers ahead for 1x05, read at your own risk.

After watching 1x05 and seeing other folks's thoughts about what went down there, I felt the need to write something.

Now I'm going to start by saying that from the beginning, I (and everyone, really, I'm sure) was wondering just who Jod is, really. I didn't immediately buy into the idea that he's a Jedi just because he can use the Force. That doesn't make or define a Jedi, I don't think. Anyway, it kept me wondering and kept me interested. I will be honest and say that in the first few episodes, I sort of hoped that despite the fact that he's a pirate, a scoundrel in it for his own interests....I had hoped that his heart would soften at least a little bit, being with the kids. But now I remember what Jude himself has said about Jod and his perspective of the kids. According to Jude, Jod has this sort of disdain because his childhood was taken from him (or something along those lines iirc). It's a little sad because apparently Jod didn't have that. But, Jude said, he also doesn't want the kids to end up the same way he did.

Either way, I think it's interesting that Jod has twice done things that remotely demonstrate even the vaguest, faintest sense of...I won't call it affection but whatever it is, he isn't disregarding them.

First example, when he reunites with the kids on At Achrann. Neel and Wim run to him and hug him, and he just holds them close. He could have easily been aloof, or shoved them off and been like 'Ick. Small humans. Go away.'

Second example, when he finds Wim crying. Initially, he's very much repelled by the sight and turns as if to leave, but then goes back, sits down and talks to Wim about it. True, he doesn't give very good advice when he says to let go those attachments (Granted: to the Jedi, that's important, but in the sense of being free from those attachments not in the sense of cutting off love and wholesome, good human connections). But it just caught my attention.

Another thing I thought interesting is exactly how the writers are presenting him. I don't have extensive experience with studying writing methods or even observing it in the shows I watch, but I've noted that in some of the best written stories, the big reveals are almost never obvious. That's sort of their nature, no? Like why would it be a surprise if it's already been spoiled before its time?

What's my point?

This. I think it's notable that when they first present Jod, it's in an ambiance of mystery, so much that everyone is asking 'Who is he?' They're already laying down that idea of wanting to figure him out completely and see what he's made of. Now after 1x05, it was striking to me to see Jod invoke the pirate code and threaten Fern with a knife at her neck.

Let's unpack that moment first. There's a few things I want to point out.

Jod hesitates. It seemed to me like he's debating, really turning around in his head the idea of what he's considering doing. It struck me because we see only moments before how quickly he had SM-33 fill the pit back up with acid and melt the pirates. Jod has no problem with killing, that's clear. So why did he make such an effort not to harm Fern, if he's as despicable a man as we're supposedly led to think he is?

He holds the knife near her neck, but not nearly enough to harm her. It's a threat to make it real enough for her, but he's not trying to harm her. Anyway you dice it, it's NOT okay that he did that and I don't approve it, I just think that it's worth noting.

He keeps insisting that she has to say 'I yield' because that's what the Code demands. 'You literally have to say it,' he tells her.

Then, and this point's more flimsy, up to interpretation, I suppose, but...the bit with the chair. I assumed, on first watch, that he didn't react because he simply didn't care what happened to the kids now that they're out of his way, but I saw a post once (if it was yours or you know who wrote it, tell me please and I'll credit them here) pointed out it's because he knew what the chair would do and he knew where they were going--into a tunnel.

Lastly, I was thinking about this more recently and it came to mind that Jod could have, essentially, done this at any point when he was with them, no? Why did he chose THAT moment to do it? Furthermore (and I mentioned this in a different post), I find it very suspicious that the writers, if they do intend to make Jod out to be the actual Bad Guy ™ po

That's it, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.

[boba-beom]

･ﾟﾟ･｡ my beautiful girlfriend | WEN JUNHUI

pairing: idol/actor!junhui x ff!reader // genre: oneshot; hurt, comfort, angst(?) // warnings: petnames; (baby and love), misunderstanding, overthinking, crying, lowkey self-depricating, proofread quickly. // wc: 1.6k

a/n: merry christmas <3 @honajoong hii lex!! I'm your secret santa :> despite starting a little late, I wanted to be involved as well and I got you!! I will admit I struggled to write for junhui since he's the first seventeen member I've written about, but hopefully I think I managed to grasp his characteristics(?) 🥹 I hope it's okay!! also 'yn yln' is 'your name' and 'your last name' :>

Two years. Two whole years since jun asked to be your boyfriend. Two whole years since you started supporting him through his acting career. But never in your two whole years together were you jealous about his co-stars or fans. You've always been hidden away from the public, not going to any events together. Not even getting barricade tickets for his and his group's concerts for the sake of not getting caught somehow.

It's always been like that though. But that's because no one knew about your relationship, not even the rest of his group members.

Jealousy has never been an issue for you until you read an article regarding jun's new upcoming Chinese drama. See, this was new to you. Usually you'd be excited; treating him to order take out from his favourite place, or buying him small gifts to add to his collection of other things you got him within your relationship.

As you read article after article the majority published about how jun and his co-star make such a good couple. Some even published pictures of them together at the premier event they recently attended, while others are scene captures from the said drama.

There was this one picture you saw that made your heart drum disturbingly loud in your ears, not because of the photo itself but because of the comments regarding it. Your eyes dart from comment to comment, 'Wen Junhui and ____ have incredible chemistry', 'A new couple in made in the industry?', 'I hope they're dating in real life.'

Your breathing pattern becomes ragged from the thought of feeling like you're hindering Jun in his life. If you were just making things difficult for him since you were no one but a regular person who works a 9-5 job. In times like this, which was rare, you had no one but yourself to console you.

A single tear runs down your cheek which has you vigorously wiping it off your face, refusing to let yourself become so weak because of this.

You see a text appear from the top of your phone, a text from your boyfriend asking how you were and letting you know when he'll be home, but a part of you felt like you were sinking inside. All these comments getting to your head about Jun and his co-star, but you know you shouldn't think that way. Besides, you never used to think that way initially.

Thinking that it's best to sleep off the thoughts gathering in your head, you grab the folded blanket beside you on the couch, splaying it over you as you play music from the t.v, hoping that would help you get your mind off it.

Hours pass, the living room dim from the lack of light but only from the t.v itself. You pick up your phone to check the time, and while you were asleep, you received multiple texts and a missed call from Jun; all the messages asking if you've eaten, what you want to watch later in the evening, and so forth.

However, you didn't feel like messaging him back, or even calling him back either. You thought your nap would rid of the uncomfortable overthinking, but it just has you questioning, 'why is he even with me?' He could pick any other girl, but why did he choose you. He has a beautiful co-star with incredible chemistry, why doesn't he just ask her to be his girlfriend instead—

"Yn?" Jun's voice echoes in the room and cuts off your trail of thoughts.

You refuse to turn your back and greet him, instead, you pick up the remote and search through films to watch as if he wasn't calling your name again.

"Hey, did you get my texts? Have you decided what you wanna eat tonight?" Jun asks again, caressing the top of your head and missed as he tried to kiss the top of your head, but you flinched away.

"Not hungry." You reply curtly.

He could sense something was off, not wanting to think too much into it, he lets it slide as he goes into the bedroom for a quick shower and change of clothes. He hasn't seen you behave this way before, wondering what possibly could have happened recently to tick you off. His mind was thinking of every possibility but to think of articles since his shoots for the drama were quite a while ago.

As he walks back into the living room, you're still sitting in the same spot on the couch. He walks around the couch to sit beside you, lifting the side of the blanket to share, but you take it off and let him have all of it instead.

Jun turns his head to look at you, a questioning expression on his face yet you don't turn to look at him. A straight, unbothered face is what he sees as your eyes are stuck on whatever movie you put on the t.v.

"Is everything alright? I feel like I've done something wro-"

"Everything's fine." You lie, cutting him off and not wanting to think about it anymore. For the first time in a while you almost didn't want to be in his presence for the sake of keeping sane.

"Well it doesn't sound fine." He turns his body, attempting to test the waters as he places a careful hand on your lap. This time you don't flinch.

You sigh. Pausing before you answer him honestly, "Because it's not."

"Love, how am I supposed to know what's bothering you if you won't tell me straight?" Jun's hand starts caressing your thigh in attempt to comfort you and allow you to open up to him, like you usually do.

You try to gather your thoughts and stare at one spot, but nothing in particular, on the t.v as your breathing becomes uneven. It's difficult talking about a feeling you never thought you had to ever talk about, but it was bound to happen at least once in your life. And that was this current moment in time.

A stuck, choked up feeling in your throat starts to erupt as you struggle to find the words to say, leading to you struggling to stop yourself from tearing up out of frustration.

You explain about the articles you've read about him and his co-star, the ones headlining and the comments you've seen. Your breathing hitches a little while you're talking, and Jun couldn't help but scoot closer to you with his arm around you.

"I tried my best to not let it bother me, but it was a lot to take in. I'm sorry." Jun wipes away at your tears, listening intently as you continue, "I know it's your job, I understand if I'm being unacceptable and if you don't want to be with me anymore."

Tears are non-stop streaming down your face, also because you're mad at yourself for becoming so weak and letting this get to you in the first place. You feel Jun's hand resting on the middle of your back, rubbing it with comfort.

You continue letting out your hushed cries, burying your face into his chest with muffled sorries leaving you. Jun's never seen you cry so much and his heart drops at the sound of your irregular breathing pattern in attempt to stop yourself crying. How could you stop when he hugs you tight momentarily, slowly swaying you side to side as he rests his cheek by your temple.

"Hey, hey. It's okay." He cups your cheek, pulling back to hold your face close to his. "You know you're always going to be the one for me. I'm sorry that hiding our relationship has been difficult, I know. I want to let everyone know that I'm yours, but right now it's a little tricky, and I know that's no excuse but I swear I will let people know. Sooner than later, I promise."

Your sobs quieten down, a little exhausted from the thoughts occupying your mind the whole day. But you respond with a slow nod and a tight lipped smile as you both shuffle on the couch and lay your head on his chest as his hand finds its way to skim up and down your back once again.

･ﾟﾟ･｡ ･ﾟﾟ･｡ ･ﾟﾟ･｡

It's been a few days since Jun had comforted you. Your phone pings from a notification about another article that had just released with the headline reading, 'Wen Junhui breaks rumours about dating co-star and is a relationship with Yn Yln"

You read it once more. And another time, expecting there to be hate thrown at you, but there was nothing but love and support from Jun's fans. It was entirely different to how you thought they would take it, but you're just grateful that it didn't go that way at all.

Your boyfriend's tall figure walks through the door with a bouquet of flowers, not even a couple of minutes after you had read the article, and he's making his way to you sat by the breakfast bar.

His subtle smile curves his lips as he holds the bouquet out for you. While you, on the other hand, are pouting; worried that it might ruin his career and receive potential hate, but Jun was unbothered. He was certain about it.

"You didn't have to do that, Jun." You insist, receiving the flowers from him. "I don't want this to affect your career."

He stands by your knees as you face him, towering over you ever so slightly.

"I wanted to let them know. I can't keep hiding this relationship forever," he kisses your forehead as his hands plant on your shoulders, giving them a tight squeeze. "And honesty, as much as I love to keep you to myself, they need to know that you're my beautiful girlfriend."

© BOBA-BEOM ; do not repost, alter, translate, or claim as yours on here or any other platform.

tags: @lovejoshua @junniieesbby @flwrseon

permanent taglist: @choiwrld @yjusei @wccycc @lizdevorak @fairybin @laylasbunbunny @acaiasahi @ttyunz @cha0thicpisces @fairybinie @ja4hyvn @yunkiwii @aprilisque

[dramatic-dolphin]

Re. Your women being so scared thing. And to be clear I mostly agree with you.

I'm not sure where you're from, but I'm from New York, and I can say for sure that I'd feel more safe in the most dangerous part of the UK than basically anywhere in the US. My Parisian aunt thinks Gare du Nord too dangerous to walk near under any circumstances, but to me it seems like a normal bigger train station level of danger, and the streets around it seem normal. I lived in a university town in the UK for a year, and I never felt in danger there or in London, even alone, even in the middle of the night. I was never alone in Berlin, but I was out at night, and I felt at least as comfortable as I would in New York. So I think, at last in the places I've been and from my experience, America is more dangerous and much scarier. I have never been street harassed in the UK, and I have been harassed and followed in New York plenty, and had several people attempt to attack me. Men in the US will also often harass you from a car, which is an explicit threat. It's also important to remember that parking lots are bad places to be and most of the US has to drive, and therefore park.

That said, I know some women who won't ride the subway at night, or at all, and that seems very paranoid to me. If you're riding at a remotely normal time and are paying any attention to your surroundings, you're almost certainly going to be fine. I also know girls who, even once they're in a car, of course, will send friends their location just in case. This seems extremely paranoid to me. Maybe check you're going the right way like one time. I do still think some of the things people do can be reasonable caution - yeah, didn't go hiking on a first date - but the perspective people are throwing at you strikes me as distinctly privileged. No one who's ever had a job can think that way. I've worked with a few women who took cars home after every shift, or their dad or their boyfriend picked them up in a car, and at that point, you have a job as a hobby, because unless he works nearby, you just spent your minimum wage on gas. If you take a cab home in New York, from Manhattan to any other borough, that's most of your pay. So to me, this level of paranoia generally reads that you've never had to be alone anywhere so you don't understand what it means, and you've never had to do shit with, and if you did do it, the money wasn't important.

Yeah a lot of time I get mad at this online because it just seems overly paranoid to me, and then a woman comes in with a personal experience or anecdotes, and it hits me that maybe the US *is* actually that bad? I live in Hungary, and I really like walking alone in the city at night, or going for long walks in the forest alone, and I've never really felt unsafe doing that, but - and this is crucial - neither have most of the women I talk to. Or at least, not to this degree. So, yeah, the US is possibly worse and more unsafe? I can believe that, it's just hard to conceptualize I guess, since the US likes to portray itself as tbe baseline for a "civilized" country, and I live in *Eastern Europe*. So there's preconceptions here, lol.

But yes, a lot of these, even when corrected for this, are just paranoid, there's no other way to see it. Like, no matter where you live, you truly do NOT need to share your location every time you leave home. And there's also the matter of being disconnected from the people and community around you, like being scared to help your neighbor or someone on your street. We live in a society, you kind of have to take an active part of it.

A lot of it is just a lot of energy spent on being scared every waking moment of your life. Like, okay, in the reddit thread I saw this in, there was a woman saying that she ALWAYS puts her ID in her front pocket when she goes outside so they can easily IDENTIFY THE BODY IF SHE DIES. Like what material good does worrying about this bring to your life? It's not even a self-defense technique, doing this will not help you with staying alive!! All it does is make you think about "oh no, I could get murdered" every time you leave the house. This is NOT a healthy mindset!

It's like a strange and widespread kind of anxiety, and the worst part is, it has you convinced it's necessary, and you can't get rid of it unless you make an active effort to do things despite being scared. First you have to convince yourself that you *won't* get murdered by your date if you don't share your location, and that's the hardest part. And yeah lol, having to do things alone helps you with this tremendously, because you realize that you've just taken the subway at night alone and survived. But if you're never forced to do things alone, you get stuck in this weird fear spiral, and whenever you see a stranger, you end up thinking about how they could murder you.

[wanderingblindly]

The new October Birds chapter is lovely (and you are too for writing such a gorgeous fic)!

Any behind the scenes information you want to share about it? Sentences that didn't make it in or oscar POV moments that can't get told from the fic's POV?

- Snippet Anon

(october birds)

oh my goodness thank you so much darling! Chapter two was one that I initially felt very little confidence in (I think I sent it to like, three people to see if the vibe matched the first one even remotely), so the response it's garnered has absolutely floored me. I literally cannot say thank you enough 😭💖

There were fewer things that stumped me in ch2 than in ch1, thank fuck lol. But there's one scene that I really did struggle with, and one key Oscar moment I haven't seen anyone comment on yet!

New Years

Ok so when I was originally picturing the new years scene, I wanted it to be with small fireworks on the beach. Then I rubbed my two (2) braincells together and realized that A) Perth is literally not near the beach at all for the sake of a midnight trip B) fireworks are super illegal in Tas. So that was very fun for me.

That then posed a big question of 'where the fuck are they meant to go?'.

At first I considered seeing if they could reasonably find a viewpoint of the Launceston or Hobart fireworks shows, since those are close enough to be feasible. But then I was like 'fuck, Lando had the anxiety moment about not going into the city, idk if there's really a place that would be isolated enough AND in view of the fireworks'.

After spending a lot of time on google maps, I found a viewpoint that was quite lovely: Max's Lookout in Nunamara, Tasmania. It's about a 40 minute drive away, and I could embellish the details to sell The Fantasy that I was picturing -- delightful!

In terms of the actual Event, the parts that I rewrote the most were the details around Oscar offering Lando his hand. It was difficult to both keep the "swept up in the moment" feeling and emphasize the tentativeness, the hesitation. I struggled a lot with figuring out how Lando would feel in that moment, especially because he'd technically already touched Oscar's hand before in Feast -- was this different enough for him to be affected? Was it similar enough to feel familiar? Was it scary, exciting, unremarkable?

Oh, and I had to google how to open a beer bottle with another bottle + your heel; I knew it was possible, I've just never had beer before lol.

Oscar and Lando's "Anxiety Attack"

Oscar's eyes flick overhead, taking in the fiery orange blossoms hanging from above. His under-eyes are more hollow than usual, the blue tint almost leaning purple in the early-morning light.

Oscar heard Lando in the kitchen.

In a different version of the scene, I actually had Oscar come out and try to help Lando, but then I realized it was far too early. Chapter 2 Lando is only beginning to peek out of his shell -- any intense display of emotion embarrasses him, he tries to talk himself out of them and pretend "it's fine" or that it's something he'll make himself "get over". Having Oscar come in at that point would have been mortifying for Lando, and waaaaaay more vulnerable than he's willing to be.

Of course I could decide that as the writer, but what was Oscar thinking about?

I have a really strong image of Oscar waking up to the sound of Lando's door closing, or maybe him falling against the oven door more forcefully than he thought (Lando's not the most reliable narrator at that point). And as Oscar jumps to go see what's happened, he hears it -- Lando's sobbing, his panic.

His hand would hover over the door handle.

At this point, based on what Oscar knows, Lando's clinically standoffish. He's clearly upset, but he doesn't want to say why -- even though he didn't deny his assertion that he wants someone to ask.

But would going and asking now be too much too soon? Too little too late? If he makes the wrong decision now, is he going to lose whatever opening Lando's worked open thus far?

He chooses not to go because he doesn't want to risk over stepping, but he can't sleep once he's heard it; Oscar gets as little sleep that night as Lando, and that's why he was awake so early. He heard him leave for his run.

There were a few specific things I cut from this chapter that I miiiiiight repurpose later, so I'll keep those to myself, just in case :)

[rose-morose]

stop what you are doing right now and go watch Jentry Chau vs the Underworld immediately

I instantly fell in love with this show from the moment I saw the trailer, and when it finally got its full release, it did not disappoint

(season 1 spoilers under the cut and also probably the longest post I've ever made by far)

if you have any interest in Asian/Chinese mythology and culture, fantastic animation, soundtracks full of absolute bangers, Texas for some reason, stories that touch on the subject of being Asian American, or high schoolers fighting the supernatural/demonic, or if you just like things that are good, this is the show for you

I watched through the intro in every episode, despite the presence of the skip intro button, and I even often went back to rewatch it after it finished, it is so fucking exhilarating and exciting, I have never felt more hyped in my life

I personally love Chinese mythology, but I truly do not believe that proclivity is even remotely necessary to enjoy this show, it's just all around amazing

the writing is phenomenal

Gugu: "It's a jianshi thing, they can't help but count rice."

Ed: "Hey, I can quit anytime I want!"

this fucking killed me

referencing a jianshi's need to count grains of rice is one thing, that's pretty much expected, but the implication that doing math (counting) is an addiction is so ironically model minority racist Asian stereotype coded that it is genuinely hilarious and I love it so much I'm dying

no idea if that was intentional or if I'm just seeing things, but it made me laugh all the same, and maybe I've got rose tinted glasses on because of my love of Chinese mythology and being able to relate to the Asian American experience, but regardless I cannot praise this show enough

the cast is pretty stacked as well, with solid vocal performances by Ali Wong, Lucy Liu, SungWon Cho, Bowen Yang, Jimmy O Yang, and many more talented actors

the complexity of the relationships goes so much further below surface level than your typical supernatural teen action dramedy, for example Jentry and Kit

it's not just Jentry is initially afraid of Kit because he's actually a hideous monster but learns to love him in the end for who he truly is, Jentry, while admittedly initially shocked by his true appearance, makes it clear why she's really upset with him

it's not just because he was a demon or even just because he lied about being a demon, it's not just because he has killed people in the past, it's not even just because he is several centuries older than her, she's upset because he manipulated her, used seduction to lure her in, planted the pearl that used her (partially) dead parents to draw her into a trap, and sought to kill her, and the reason he did all of this was for his personal desire to get his very own human soul

Jentry didn't believe Kit's feelings for her were genuine, and who could blame her? regardless of the fact that his feeling were, or at least eventually became real, he did seduce her and manipulate her for his own selfish ends

and Jentry even recognizes his eventual genuine desire to be with her as entirely self serving and sought out solely for his own happiness, but in the end Jentry's rejection pushes Kit towards self reflection and growth and he realizes his own selfishness, and then he proves that he is capable of putting others first, by sacrificing his life for hers without anything to gain, a sacrifice made all the more meaningful by his permanent (tentatively) status as dead, especially in a show where ghosts and undead are common place

I have so much more to say about the relationships, and not just romantic ones, I could go on forever, but I'll just stick with the example of Jentry and Kit for now

the animation is beautiful and the color pallet is gorgeous, the music is great and could not be better suited to the show, a lot of passion was clearly put into the making of this show

though my favorite part may be the show's willingness to explore the darker horror-oriented side of Chinese folklore

the painted skin demon story, the actual torture of Diyu, the unheard nü gui, the gruesome deaths, Cheng's daughter's desperate want to return to the afterlife, the content can be a bit harrowing to say the least

while still maintaining a largely PG image, the show manages to put a good bit of horror into the story, but by far the most harrowing parts of the world of Jentry Chau vs the Underworld are the real world themes that it portrays

Jentry is surrounded by people that claim to love her and want to protect her, but many characters, whether on purpose or by accident, end up using Jentry for her powers to their own gain

she was cursed with a destructive power that she cannot control, a power that she does not understand, and she has no idea how or why, but everyone seems to want these powers except for her

in a break from the genre standard, whereas the chosen one teenager might have to hide their abilities and responsibilities to keep others safe, pretty much everyone knows about Jentry's predicament right off the bat, and better yet most of them have already formulated their own misconceptions and prejudices

if you thought it was hard fitting in while trying to hide your darkest secrets, imagine how hard it is to be accepted when everyone not only already knows your secrets, but has been given ample reason to fear you because of them

it suddenly makes more sense than ever why so many chosen one teens hide their peculiarities, it is truly a frightening prospect to exist in a world where everyone around you is both different from you, and keenly aware that you are different from them, there's no fitting in after that

it presents a metaphorical dramatization of a real world experience, something I myself have experienced, growing up in America when nobody else looks like you

I grew up in an almost completely white town, and there was no way of hiding the fact that I wasn't also white, though I was really lucky to live somewhere where racism was much less common place, or at the very least less overt than it is in many parts of the country, a lack of racism didn't mean I wasn't different

Jentry goes to a school that seems fairly diverse, though still mostly white, with many other kids who also aren't white, but race isn't what makes her stand out, it's something else that she was (allegedly) born with, something she (seemingly) has no control over, and something for which she is faced with prejudice much like race, though she later discovers that she can actually change and control these things, that's not how it starts

okay this is getting way too long so I'm gonna rap it up here, but I am hardly finished speaking on the topic, if you claim to have made this far into my rambling I will simply call you a liar, but if there are two things to take away from this mess, it's this:

a - I am desperately hoping for a second season

b - GO WATCH THE FUCKING SHOW