#but idk if i can really see him doing that. and in any case he would've had much more time to come to terms with it on his own

[ahavaas]

(sometimes we wank and sometimes we play. I'm playing! yeah this is an old one, plz be sweet to @kuntya, who's having fun too, I think.)

see, I don't hate the idea of (bad ending au, sorry, I will explain) Jiang Cheng promoting Wei Wuxian to idk Necromancer Supreme of Yunmeng Jiang, dressing him up all gorgeous, pointing him at anyone who looks at them funny, and telling him to kill.

(hold on: let's contemplate that. let's think about that for a second. picture it in your minds.

okay! focus!)

see, I think the story is really clear about what happens when one supremely powerful guy tries to take over the world (he gets stibbity-stabbed. in the back. by someone he trusted. One Really Powerful Guy still has to eat, and sleep, and drink water that hasn't been poisoned by all the people who hate and fear him, y'know?) and the longer you play "I can and will kill all of you if you fuck with me," the more opportunities you create for everyone to get Really Worried, band together and wait for you to fall asleep.

should Jiang Cheng have been *looking* for an excuse to go to war maybe 1-2 years after everyone in the cultivation world finished a bloody war specifically to curbstomp the last Guy Who Was Way Stronger Than Everyone Else?

ehhhhhhhhh. *gestures vaguely* not a historian (not that this matters in discussions about Vague Fantasy China) but my general takeaway is "no".

it's a hard sell, right? "hello everyone. not being at war has been pretty fun, right? anyways. you know my shixiong? yeah, the one who keeps getting daydrunk. the one who does the necromancy that's bad for your soul and spirit. him, yeah, hahaha. he just killed a bunch of jin. without my knowledge or permission, yeah.

I mean, they were doing some fucked up shit! he was right to be pissed about it.

so we're at war with the jin now.

yeah, the largest distinct post-war population with the most money. hear me out.

if we kill em all and take their shit, WE will be the richest sect around. they're definitely doing some evil shit and they're going to be a problem in the future if we ignore it.

we can definitely do it! unstable drunk shixiong is *really good* at killing people (this is a good thing). the people he just killed (without checking in with me) definitely deserved it!

well. when the lan and the nie see us starting another war, I have to assume they will accept the righteousness of our cause and cheer us on. why would they be concerned? the last wildly powerful guy Killing 'Em All was Evil, but Wei Wuxian is Good, so. y'know. I'm sure everyone will be chill.

if they're not chill?

crazy idea! we have the moral high ground.

but in that case I guess the plan is wei wuxian will Kill All of Them too.

we're keeping it simple, stupid: we're gonna kill people until they fuck off and leave us alone. wei wuxian is *really really good* at killing people.

if something happens to him?

hahaha we might be kinda fucked, yeah.

not super clear on how the necromancy works but presumably he'll die eventually, yeah. definitely a problem for future us!

you're raising some valid questions and concerns for sure. the thing is: it's way too late for that! what's done is done! wei wuxian got (righteously) angry and made the call. we've got to deal with the situation at hand.

haha will that happen again? maybe? impossible to say! I cannot stress enough how little control I have over the unstable drunk guy who's really good at killing people for good and moral reasons! he follows his heart!

understandable. good luck out there, man."

(am I being a little goofy? sure: if you want to play with this idea, you'd probably want to focus on the existential threat posed by the power-hungry Jin commiting war crimes with impunity. you still have to play the hand you're dealt, which any way you look at it, still includes "our secret weapon is my unstable drunk (very charming!) shixiong with a heart of gold, excellent morals, and very little impulse control, and our plan is: righteous murder".)

idk again, playing-not-wanking: I just don't think any scenario where yunmeng jiang claims wei wuxian, shelters the wens, and says "wei wuxian is the fantasy equivalent of a nuke and we will let him off-leash if you fuck with us" leads to any kind of stable political situation. is it a fun idea? indubitably. is it hot? 1000%. does it work? idk man maybe you guys can square this circle, I feel like it ends badly.

Literally the main schism between me and the people who keep @-ing me is: did you believe Jiang Cheng when he said, "if you insist on protecting them, then I can't protect you"? If you think he was lying and he did in fact have the power to publicly defy every other sect in general, and Lanling Jin in specific, and still keep his promises to his own people, but he just chose not to exercise it for convenience, then yeah, he sucks

If you believed the narration when it said that the Jiang sect was in a pathetic position, and accept that Jiang Cheng was the youngest and least experienced sect leader in the room who had zero support from the other sects during that time (Nie-Jin-Lan had just entered into a brotherhood and left him out! This was way before Yanli and Zixuan got married!), then every single take from the people in the first camp is insane goblin speak and we will literally never get anywhere

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

(Can skip if your inbox is too much)

What do you think of the people who say that Stan only ever saw Ford as a extension of himself and not his own person by extension, that Stan didn’t save Ford because he’s Ford but because he’s his brother. AND that Stan didn’t respect his interests and that’s what caused the rift between them also how Stan relied too much on Ford in their childhood and Ford suffered the brunt of that. Idk I just needed to consult a Gravity falls expert apparently.

Well I wouldn't say I'm an expert, but I'm flattered you think so!

As to all that I'd say.... nuanced.

I don't think Stan saw Ford as an extension of himself, but the other way around. That he was an extension of Ford, and without him there wasn't much point to Stan at all. Ford had an active life outside of Stan, you don't get that amount of trophies without competing, and in most cases that involves being in clubs or studying/working on things outside of school during his free time. Stan wasn't doing anything by himself really, he was the only member of the Stan pines fan club, and probably spent all his time waiting for Ford to be done to hang out. Ford was probably more popular than he was, even if just with other nerds.

As for respecting Fords interests, that's hard to say. When Stan describes Fords interests he's a jaded old man, who's upset with Ford. He definitely supported Fords interests, probably to the point of minor annoyance on Fords end. It's definitely not what caused the rift between them all by itself, that was done by a lot of factors, and probably would have happened even without the science fair. Stan really didn't mean to break the project, and if Ford had gotten into west tech I think Stan would have supported him full stop, grumbling and moaning sure, but he'd wave it off if Ford tried to probe deeper. They would have drifted apart as ford got an education and stan tried to make it on his own, probably somewhat similar to canon but with him actually talking to Ford and lying about any problems he had. If they'd waved Ford off and the two had gone sailing, they would have fallen apart due to lack of communication and being two teens on a boat.

But I don't think Ford would have is the thing. I think by that point Ford saw the sailing as a childhood escapism and actually wanted to go to college and become a scientist already, just hadn't talked to Stan about it, because why should he have to? They're twins, Stan's always supported him, why wouldn't he support this? Then the rift would have been Ford 'betraying' Stan here, 'abandoning' him to go to college (which Ford is free to do as his own person, but not how Stan would see it).

In my personal opinion, both of them are ar fault for them falling apart. Stan did rely on Ford too much, but there also wasn't anyone else for him to rely on. He was bullied just as much as Ford, and had been told his whole life he was Fords dumber copy. He didn't have any friends outside of Ford, and hasn't learned how to make any either (neither had Ford, he bust into Fiddlefords life and Bill snuck into his). And Ford enabled Stan's cheating, he full smiled and showed Stan his paper in the classroom scene. Both of them had given up on Stan doing his own schoolwork. On Fords end he never communicated to Stan about his feelings, and probably didn't actually feel as suffocated as he said in the show until later when he was convincing himself how much better his life was without Stan until he thought it was true. But he was also a teenager in the 60sish, there was a complete opposite culture on communication as a guy back then. Plus the same could be said for Ford. Did Ford support and respect Stan's interests? Did he see Stan as his own individual? Or was Stan there when he wanted a friend and pushed away when he was busy studying? I don't think Ford was suffering Stan's company, in a world without their parents and schools expectations on who they were I'm certain they'd sail off into the subset, wreck themselves after a day or so, laugh it off and try again. They were best friends and happy to be so, the rift was caused by their uncertain futures, comparing them to each other,q

I do think Stan saved Ford because he was his brother and not for Ford, but he wouldn't save anyone for just themselves either. Stan's a guy who cares about his family and not really about other people,

[cloveroctobers]

BREAKING NEWS | LUCA (The Bear) — summer prompts

A/N: The way I smiled so big when Luca arrived back on screen?! GORL GET A GRIP! 😆 idk it just felt right to continue these prompts based on the oc I kinda created. If you’re interested in seeing how their story played out (you don’t really have to go back and read the other ones since it’s mostly glimpses into their relationship tbh and I’m not intentionally writing continuous fics even though I still kinda do) you can read here & here.

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE & I’m using: ⁵⁾ smoke curling up from a barbecue + ²⁷⁾ fresh flowers wilting in dead heat.

WARNINGS: language because it’s the bear, hints of mental health, summer feels, LuPey settling into Chicago, & somewhat of a lengthy read when this was supposed to be a drabble lol.

<- read my previous summer anthology prompt here.

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Moving (again) had been abrupt, but Peyton and Luca rolled with the punches. She’d miss their old condo’s open layout, the single balcony view, and of course, the fireplace in their bedroom for cozy and steamy nights. Still, she could make a home anywhere with Luca.

They’re all out on the deck with their guests, that’s right they gained a private deck in their new home, where everyone’s sprawled out either sitting comfortable or standing around with drinks or finger foods, while the partly cloudy weather kept them sane from Chicago’s heat. Regardless Peyton still had a tarp tossed over the beams just in case the sun decided to fully shine as the hours went on.

“Does Luca have any idea what he’s doing?” Peyton’s mother muttered up at her daughter, lips painted in a signature red, while she sat on the edge of a deck chair, posture so perfect a chiropractor would give her the highest of praise while using her as the number one demonstration.

Peyton lets out a slow exhale, “Course he does. Dad’s taught him a thing or two on the grill too. Also there’s a bunch of other cooks here that could assist if needed.”

Luca was never one to shy away from asking for help but he’d always try multiple times on his own before he did.

The short haired woman, (who taught Peyton all she knows about achieving the best volume when it comes to hair) sticks her nose up into the air bringing her flute glass right to her lips, “A caterer might have been better.”

“Then you would say he’s not being the best host given his experience,” Peyton frowns at her mother, “It’s a BBQ so a grill is meant to be used.”

The woman can’t help but to throw in there while peering up at her daughter through her eyelashes, “Properly.”

Which is enough for Peyton to take her leave, not saying a thing else to her well-known food critic of a mother, who Peyton already had to pull away from hounding her friend Carmy over The Bear’s latest review. She’ll take one for the team since she knew her mother best and has been taking her controlling overbearing ways her entire life.

Carmy appreciated it since it was clear he was about to shut down from Peyton’s mother’s ways but he also understood a thing or a thousand about mothers.

Carmy lingered, then ducked back inside, along with some guests that had retreated there to avoid the smoke or cool off. He would try the deck again later before deciding to sneak out.

Marcus was keeping Luca company by the grill so Carmy didn’t have to feel as obligated but nonetheless he felt included that his old friends, Peyton and Luca wanted him at their cookout.

The smoke curls up from the barbecue, warming the air as Luca began to rotate the kebabs, just as Peyton locks her arms around Luca’s waist, momentarily breaking his focus.

“Is this my favorite fiancée?” Luca questions from over his shoulder.

He’s alone now, Marcus left his side not too long ago to the far end of the deck, chatting to his old roommate Chester, who seemed to be stressing him out, as Marcus held his head down, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose while the dark haired man was animatedly talking to him about something.

Peyton beams from behind Luca, “The one and only,” squeezing him tighter and nuzzling the side of her face against his broad back, “You doing okay?”

She moves to stand beside him, glancing at the food with a fist pressing into the side of her floral blue and white dress.

Luca nods, “As long as I don’t receive any more unasked for commentary. It’s like people forget that I have culinary experience in other areas as well besides being a pastry chef. It’s a given, yeah?”

“Absolutely,” Peyton gives him a soft smile in understanding, “Just like people thinking I can’t cook at all being an Editorial Food Photographer. Don’t worry about it baby, I’ve got faith in you.”

Luca dabs the sweat from his brow with the rag slung over his shoulder. “I knew you would.”

Peyton squeezes at his bicep, “Need anything from me? A FaceTime to my dad?”

“Alright,” Luca throws his head back fighting back a twitch of smile breaking onto his face.

Then he points the grill fork in his wife to be’s direction, “Now I don’t want you near me.”

Peyton laughs pressing herself into his side, making the larger man glance over at her as she trails a hand down his torso covered apron, “Are you sure? I could be a great help to you.”

Her hand slips into the front pocket of the apron, making Luca close his eyes and shake his head before looking around to make sure no one was paying attention what this looked like, “I’m going to need you to step away before I cancel this entire gathering and piss off more than your mum.”

Peyton giggles, removing her hand as if she just touched the fire—in a way she did—revealing her lipgloss, making Luca frown over at the brown haired woman.

“Alright,” she sing songs buttering up her lips some more, being full aware of the effect she was having on her man right now, “If you say so.”

Luca blinks, “When did you even slip that in there?”

Peyton steps back, hands held out, “I have no pockets. Where else would I keep my goods?”

The woman watches in satisfaction at Luca slowly begins to eye her up in her attire for the day. His throat bobbed at the way the dress hugged her in all the right places and when he settled back on her brown eyes, knowing he had been caught, his cheeks swirled in pink.

Luca shakes his head, turning right back to the grill muttering to himself, “I know where I’d like to keep mine but I can’t exactly do that right now.”

“Huh?” Peyton lifts up her chin in a playful tone, stepping to Luca again who holds up his hand, almost to keep her back so he wouldn’t melt.

Luca sends her grin, meeting her eyes as he corrects, “I said you’re driving me mad and your beauty is distracting, especially in that dress so could you please?”

Peyton laughs, “Are you trying to get rid of me, Mr. Hodgson? It can’t be that bad.”

The natural arch of his brows is enough of a warning but Peyton laughs again. Making quick work to stand by his side, making sure to keep her cleavage away from his bicep this time, standing on the tips of her toes to smack a kiss to his cheek, she leaves a shine of lipgloss against his skin, before leaving him be.

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Peyton’s back on holding the hosting down, easing into separate conversations, making sure everyone is doing okay and enjoying themselves. She even brings over a few beverages to some guests with a million dollar smile (Tina being one of them, who had no problem matching Peyton’s mother’s energy. Peyton squeezed the older woman’s shoulder again in apology once handing her a refreshment) that she notices wiping sweat or fanning themselves, reminding them they could always head inside to chill, and that the deck wasn’t going anywhere.

And then…

It collapses.

Just kidding!

Letting out a sigh at the sight of community, Peyton is tempted to grab her wide lens camera to get a few shots, she still had time to, but she gets distracted seeing one of her outdoor plants that she just bought last weekend wilting in the heat. Peyton excused herself through a sea of people who started dancing in the middle of the deck, headed over to her collection of outdoor plants.

A hobby she started to pick up that her paternal grandmother loved to hear about.

Peyton’s reddish pink begonias started to droop and crisp at the end.

Thanks to the heatwave that finally broke.

Peyton huffs at the sight, wiping her slightly damp hands against the bottom of her dress so she could get a better grip on the flowers. Using her knees and getting into the right position, she bends and lifts the pot into her hold. Even steadying her breathing, Peyton feels the heat pressing through the deck boards as she starts making her way over to a set of steps.

Walking down the walkway towards the door, she blinks hard, feeling like something is off.

Unsteady.

She reached the door, ready to put the plant back down but by the hands of Carmy already inside, he does the honors of sliding the door back.

“Thanks, Carmy-Parmy.” She uses her personal nickname for him with an exhale, standing in the office now.

Carmy nods closing the door back while the cold air seems to subside Peyton’s moment of weirdness. “Can I help with that?”

“Oh no.” Peyton shakes her head putting back on a smile, “I’ve got it thanks. I’ll probably bring it upstairs to my room for a little shade. How are you? Interested in playing some chess?”

She places the plant down for a moment, slowly standing back up and closing her eyes as the room starts to tilt some. When she opens her eyes she sees Carmy looking at the chess set.

“The last time I played was actually with Luca.”

Peyton nods, “Yeah he did say something about this being part of your late night sesh’s back then when you two still wanted to keep busy. His grandad actually shipped that over.”

“Yeah?” Carmy responds, “You two play? Or it more for decoration?”

Peyton laughs, “Luca cheats!”

Carmy feels a smile playing on his lips knowing where this is going. “So he plays on his own?”

“Then he shouldn’t cheat.” It’s Peyton’s turn to turn her nose up into the air, “…thanks for coming Carmy.”

Then she’s bending again to bring her begonias out of sight, much like Carmy would prefer himself.

She’s made it to the top of her stairs, glancing at her hydroponic garden tucked in the corner to the left while trying to steady her breathing. Making a mental note to check on her thriving garden, she continues into the main bedroom to sit her flowers right on the dresser next to the air purifier. There’s a lump in her throat as she holds onto the edge of the dresser, waiting for this wave of fatigue to calm down.

And when it does, she makes her way into the bathroom to get a look at herself in the mirror before searching the back of a drawer.

Soon Peyton sets the test facedown on the counter, flushing the toilet on reflex before washing her hands for entirely too long. The sounds seem to echo. It’s too loud. Her throat feels dryer than the humidity outside. She spins from the mirror, holding onto the counter, unable to look at herself and leaving the faux plant in the vase as her witness.

The woman finds herself pacing in her bedroom, hair twisted and pulled up into whatever will fit into a claw clip, bathroom door shut tight as her eyes keep glancing at the timer that was set on her phone that’s now tossed on her bed. She barely hears the knock on the ajar bedroom door, appearing like a deer in headlights as she takes in the appearance of Natalie Berzatto dressed in pink and denim.

“Hey.”

Peyton puts on a smile, one that looks weak, “Sug! What’re you doing up here?”

Natalie doesn’t miss a beat, “Wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

It wasn’t a question but more a statement, leaving room for Peyton to be open with her if she wanted. It’s been a good chunk of the year since Luca decided to step in being a stage at the bear for awhile, where it allowed him to not only network but further build a relationship with the team that was already established.

Luca told her of his first time meeting Nat, the both of them only knowing her through minimum words of whatever Carmy actually bothered to share back then. Natalie accepted Luca pretty quickly, despite the fact that they didn’t have the budget to really hire anyone but the couple did alright with his savings, another side job that he was actually getting paid for, and with Peyton’s income.

Plus this condo was actually cheaper than the last in this shitty market so there’s that!!

Peyton and Natalie’s chats were brief whenever she did stop by because Carmy wasn’t going to keep her from showing up especially since Luca was already there half of the time.

It was actually one of Peyton’s new routines to do, remembering that she teased Carmy while hugging Natalie goodbye for the night, “Man if I would have met sissy bear before you, I don’t know if we would have been friends.”

“Gee thanks.” Carmy replied flatly with a roll of his eyes, barely glancing at his old friend as he moved around the kitchen quickly, after Peyton and Natalie agreed to meet up to get their nails done that weekend.

Peyton strikes a diva pose, chin tilted up, shoulders back, but her voice fails around the edges. Confidence doesn’t quite stick today, “Oh, yeah girl! Completely!”

Natalie pursed her lips, head shifting to the side as she takes in Peyton’s anxious look. Not believing her one bit.

“…Can I use your bathroom?” Natalie points, starting to move in that direction.

Peyton moves with her, making the blonde raise her brows, “It’s out of order.”

“I could’ve sworn I heard something flush on my way up here.” Her blues go into slits.

Peyton tries with a award winning smile again, “Weird plumbing?”

“Mm-hmm.” Natalie doesn’t press. Instead, she reaches for Peyton’s hand. “I’m here if you need someone. Even if we’re still new friends. You can talk to me.”

Peyton squeezes her hand—grateful, but silent.

Natalie leans in, her voice softer now, “And whatever you’re guarding in there…it’ll be okay.”

Peyton gives her a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes but Natalie takes it, before letting her hand slip from her’s. She steps back but not without casting a look back at the closed shut bathroom door, “Also your herbs out in the hallway are super pretty. Gives a real earthy vibe and breathable air up here.”

“Thanks friend.” Peyton manages to get out before Natalie smiles back at her, then the blonde berzatto takes her leave.

The woman takes a seat on the edge of her bed, burying her elbows into her knees and tucks her head so that she can actually breathe this time.

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She’s not sure how long she sat like this until she hears Luca rambling to himself coming up the stairs. That gets Peyton back up to her feet, exhaustion still there as she walks along the side of the bed, reaching over to quickly tap on her phone to see how much time is left.

Peyton is still startled once Luca officially enters the room, rubbing his hands together, apron tossed over his shoulder instead, barefoot, face flushed from the heat, all while carrying traces of smoke with him.

“There she is!” He grins at his woman, heading over to the dresser to pull open, eyes glancing at the plant to the right of the air purifier, “I see you bought Bernice upstairs.”

Peyton clears her throat, stare barely looking at her plant as Luca begins to dig through the drawer, he memorized her plant names as soon as she started bringing them home and they agreed to hold off on a dog for now, “Mhm.”

“You doing alright love? Not hiding from anyone?” He peeks over before finding the lighter colored shirt he was thinking of as soon as he got off the grill.

That inquiry alone makes Peyton want to upchuck. She swallows it down as Luca finds some shorts to go with the shirt and moves towards her, easily picking up on her lack of answer.

Once he gets close to her she says, “Just needed to get Bernice out of the heat and take a second. You know crowds hardly bother me.”

“True,” Luca doesn’t have to think about it, “Well the last of the food is ready. Better hurry before the vultures really sink in. I’m gonna freshen up real quick and meet you down there?”

He starts to reach around her, his stare going right back to her face once her fingertips slap down on his wrist.

“There’s two bathrooms downstairs,” she blurts.

He pauses. Blinks. “They’re packed. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” He doesn’t miss the water rising at the corner of her eyes.

Luca studies her.

Peyton molds her lips together being asking, “Did Sug send you up here?”

“Maybe?” he admits, both brows lifting. “I was coming round anyway. She said you seemed… not yourself.”

Peyton lets her hand slip from Luca’s wrist, hand going up to push back her curtain bangs before looking down and then up away from the gaze he wanted her to meet, “…Theres something in there that you’re going to see.”

“Like what?”

That’s when she meets his gaze, steps back, hand on the door knob that she twists before pushing it back, letting that be enough of an answer.

The bathroom is quiet and freezing since Peyton shut the door, the humming of the AC is barely there but demands to be felt, as Luca carefully steps into the bathroom, setting his clothes down on a corner of the counter.

That’s when his eyes find the test upside down on the counter closest to the toliet.

It’s small and weightless…yet terrifying.

He looks back over at Peyton, who’s already facing him in the doorway, wringing her hands about, engagement ring catches the light, glinting gold on trembling fingers. She bites down on her bottom lip, still glossy, still clear tinted but her usual shine was dim.

Luca looks back at the test, hand reaching out before he steps closer to it.

She blurts, voice tight, “It’s not time yet!”

He freezes. Then calmly, softly, he sits on the closed toilet lid and holds out a hand.

“Alright then…we wait.”

Peyton exhales shakily. Her knees threat to send her crashing to the tile floor but her clutch on the door frame helps her to stay upright. Peyton’s eyes flick back to Luca, and she realizes: her support isn’t the wood behind her. It’s him.

Locking the door behind them, she steps forward, hands meeting like magnets before he gently tugs her into his lap. One arm wraps across her waist, while both of her hands hold onto his tatted arm like he’s the only thing keeping her secure right now.

Luca’s focus stays right on the test, curiosity starting to swirl in.

“You feelin’ anything?” Luca murmurs, wondering what possessed Peyton to suddenly take one.

Peyton blinks. “I’m two weeks behind and just…tired. I was bringing in the plant, you know, along the banister on the side of the tarp? I thought Bernice might make it through the heatwave but…” She trails off. “I nearly passed out after. Had to drag myself up here.”

Luca nods, thumb subconsciously beginning to rub against the side of her stomach. “Those are valid signs. Could be something…or dehydration, stress even or…nothing.”

Peyton hums. “We weren’t really trying though.”

“Yeah, but we haven’t exactly been not trying.” Luca reminds.

That gets the faintest laugh from her—dry but real. “We’ve christened nearly every room in this house.”

The dining room happened to be Luca’s go to spot after some time settling in. The built in shelving with trinkets from various of trips and vibrant artwork throw in felt like a lived in museum within itself. It wasn’t just the decor but they always found themselves entangled there and Peyton remained Luca’s favorite pastry.

God, any guests in there right now would lose their shit knowing what the couple got up to in there if only they were flies on a wall.

It’s their little secret plus…they knew how to clean!

And entertain.

Luca smirks, lips brushing the back of her ear, “That we have.”

The silence comes, heavy but not cold. Peyton traces Luca’s tattoos as they wait.

They can hear the beeping from Peyton’s phone from outside of the door.

Neither of them moves. Not right away.

Eventually, Luca does. “Want me to look?”

Peyton nods.

Luca is the one to move, slowly before letting Peyton plop back down on the lid.

He flips the test over, resting his hands on the counter as he leans in to get a read.

Not pregnant.

It reads.

“Negative.” Luca whispers.

Peyton’s shoulders deflate.

Was it relief or disappointment? She’s not even sure.

Getting to her feet, she stands beside Luca, getting a look for herself. To see it is to believe it.

“Are we…happy about this?” She asks.

Luca peers over at her, his chin pressed into his shoulder, “Are you?”

Crossing her arms, she takes time to digest this feeling.

“Not happy or sad. I just…don’t think now’s the time to have a baby. I’m scared, Luca. Not of the baby, but of me. What if I’m not okay enough to be a mom? What if the joy breaks me?”

His hands are gentle on her hips, “You’ve been doing great for a while now.”

She scoffs softly, eyes shining. “Sure. But you know how it is. Sunny for months, then a black and blue week crashes in like a riptide. I don’t want to gamble with prenatal depression or postpartum. I also don’t want to be dangerous to our kid. I can’t be my mother—but I’m scared I’ll carry her in me anyway.”

A hand goes up to cup her face, “You’re not her. And I’ll be here—even if you don’t feel like you. I’ll still love you when the hard days try to make me forget how.”

A tear slips out and Luca catches it as she sniffs.

Her forehead rests against his.

“I want that future with you,” she croaks, “Kids. A little bit of chaos mixed in with love. Corny matching fits. You strapped with a baby harness to your chest. Me proving that our baby is a model on and off camera.”

Luca chuckles, one that’s from the heart, “After marriage, maybe that’s how it’s meant to be? I did picture it that way, you know?”

“That’s very you.” Peyton smiles.

Luca defends, “This is my adult era, could you imagine us doing this back when we ripped each other to shreds in our early twenties? I know order much better now.”

Peyton snorts, “I guess so. You probably would have me right on that deck at twenty-one—no hesitation.”

“Give ‘em a real show, yeah?” He winks.

The couple share a kiss, unhurried but sure.

Tender lips and true.

When they pull away, Peyton lets herself exhale for real.

“Breaking news?” She starts.

Luca lifts his brows.

“That I chose the right person. Even when I was unraveling about this, I still choose you.”

He presses his forehead to hers again, heart filling with a warmth that no heatwave could match. “It’s not breaking. Carmy knew first. That tosser.”

Peyton laughs letting her head drop against Luca’s collarbone, leaving his arms to circle entirely around her, keeping her tight to him because he never wanted to lose her again, especially not to the blues that had a mind of their own.

She was it for him.

In every lifetime and every tomorrow.

⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ

⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ

⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ

⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ

⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ

⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ

Out on the private balcony Peyton stands, leaning against the railing as she people watches their friends and guests out on the deck. There’s lively music, loud chatter, laughter, plates scraping, and the occasional clinks of cans. The sky’s smearing tangerine beneath the haze.

The sun decided to make an appearance before it set for good tonight.

A reminder that all news doesn’t have to be negative.

A fresh breeze picks up, Peyton’s not startled this time as Luca steps in from behind, dressed in clean clothes. He smells of oak moss and something warm from the laundry.

Without a word, he pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek, His hand slides up her back, settling between her bare shoulder blades. Peyton sinks into him on her left, eyes fluttering closed as the clouds rolled on.

A smile curls onto her lips.

She knows in her bones that she’s going to love Luca, for a long, long time.

⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ

Carmy stands below on the deck by the grill, finishing up what Luca started. He’s wiping down the grates with practiced precision, he’s making quick work of doing so but from anyone watching it would appear as if he’s back in his restaurant, preparing a meal.

He’s in his own world so he doesn’t have to socialize.

Until Sugar appears beside him, “Your friends are so adorable, bear.”

Which gets him to look over at his sister before turning the other way to catch a view of the only balcony on this side, Peyton leaning into Luca’s side.

“Yeah. Came a long way…but I’m happy for them.” His tone is simple but he means it because he was there—back when they were all just twenty-somethings trying to make sense of love and life. When Luca didn’t know what to do with his feelings and turned Carmy into a glorified emotional translator.

And why would he do that for especially with Carmy’s lack of being in touch with his own feelings?

Luca’s pacing by the service door, scratching at his arm, apron still on, hair tousled like this shift chewed him up and spit him out.

Carmy stalks in not long after, carrying a tray of leftover garnishes, annoyed already.

“You know…who the fuck asked you anyway?” A young twenty something Luca snaps as soon as Carmy sets the tray down on the prep table.

Now he wanted to get pissy with Carmy because he told him the truth out on the floor? They were under enough stress as it is with Peyton feeling like she wasn’t cut out for this, Luca choosing to be condescending rather than helpful which pissed Peyton off, nearly making her walk off on the task but Carmy talked her down, saying it wasn’t a good look, that she wasn’t wrong, to shake it off and to not let Luca get into her head, which was ironic since Carmy was good at getting in his own, pressure being his own worst enemy but they all had to learn how to keep it together.

So he would for them.

“Uh…you fucking did! Either stop being a little bitch and go find her after we’re done cleaning up or leave me the fuck outta it.” Carmy pointed at Luca.

There goes Luca’s brows curving in that way that they do, His arms are bulkier now, tattoos more visible than when they first started.

“You like her, don’t you, dumbass?” Carmy observes, eyes wide.

“…not the point.”

Carmy picks up a crisp apple to start slicing into some pieces to snack on, “Doesn’t give you a right to be a dick.”

“Oh, excuse me? Is the antisocial chef a love doctor now? I wasn’t aware that was part of your résumé.” Luca can feel his body running hot.

Carmy scowls, “Fuck off okay? Jesus! You two are gonna contribute to my early death before the next menu rotation.”

Luca snickers, clearly not as mad as he put on to be before moving to take the tray to rinse. A silence fills the room while Luca scrubs at the dishes before asking, “…did she say she’s going home after?”

Carmy sighs loud and tired, throwing his hands up in the air, sick of these two idiots.

Sugar grins, “Think I’ll be invited to the wedding?”

Whenever that is.

Carmy shrugs, casual, “Rather I bring you as my plus one or not, definitely.”

Sugar is touched that Carmy considers bringing her, when she would’ve totally understood if he decided to bring Sydney.

“Here try the lemonade,” Natalie hands him over the cup she’s been holding, “Pete gave it to me but I can’t handle citrus anymore since having Soph. You need to stay hydrated, so take it.”

Carmy takes what’s been offered to him, sipping at the beverage just as Natalie squeezes his shoulder and walks off to join Sydney, who’s holding his niece.

Immediately he chokes.

“Yo, Who made this shit?” He wants to call out to his sister, something he should’ve done before indulging but he knew it wasn’t her.

His outburst is loud enough catching the attention of Richie, who stops in his tracks, walking by him. His large shades flip right to the top of his head, turquoise blues zoning in on the cup in Carmy’s hand. Then they flick back up to his, Carmy’s eyes already focused and ready to take on Richie’s attitude.

“This shit?! Fuck do you know about beverages, Carmen?”

Carmy winces at the aftertaste, “That it shouldn’t fucking taste like that. What’d you do? Mix it with, piss?”

“You wanna do this right now, you Willy Wonka reject? Guess what I got for you, these?!” And Richie flips him two middle fingers.

Carmy smirks. Which only pisses Richie off more.

Peyton breaks away from Luca’s slow peck, hearing the commotion down below.

“That’s on you,” she decides.

Luca groans, leaning over the railing to see Sydney and Natalie make their way over. “I mean I see enough of that at the restaurant. I’m good. We can let them handle it.”

Peyton laughs as he slowly starts to creep back from the balcony, hand reaching out for the handle of the door back to the bedroom.

“A host’s job is never done.” She comments, slightly pulling up the top of her dress and smoothing out the rest.

Inside she spins back to Luca, who’s lounging on the bed, watching her, she attempts to walk by him after checking her appearance in the full length mirror by the wall.

It’s his turn to pull on her wrist, tugging her so she toppled over him, legs twisting with his as he holds onto the small of her back.

“Hi.” Luca kisses beneath her jaw, then lower, tongue brushing her skin before he starts to suck.

Peyton’s hands tighten against his shoulder, “Hey to you too…but like I said…we have a job to do.”

“Uh-huh,” he’s peppering kisses along the slope of the shape where her neck meets her shoulder, “And you did your job well in this dress.”

His hand slips down to cup her backside and squeezes, pushing her even closer to him.

“Nope!” Peyton laughs, managing to pull herself from his grasp, “After marriage remember?”

“Yes to children. What makes you think this would be the actual time?” There’s humor in Luca’s tone as he tries to reach out for Peyton once more who curls herself away from his touch.

She just gives him a look, side stepping him by the edge of the bed and away from Luca’s lengthy limbs.

“I can’t get a kiss before we head back into chaos?”

Peyton shakes her head, holding onto the doorframe as she peers back at him, “We’re always obsessed with each other. If we share one more kiss in this room…everyone will send a search party.”

“Natalie could cover for us.” Luca shrugs pushing off the bed to get to his feet, “It’s sorta her fault for sending me up here anyway.”

“Thought you were coming up here to get changed?” You quirk up a brow.

Luca scratches at the back of his head, “…I’ve never been the best liar.”

“Uh huh.” She nods as she holds her hand out behind her, already walking down the hallway, his eyes follow her, he didn’t know which was worse, watching her from the front or the back.

He pauses in the doorway, “You’re gonna have to go on without me. I need a minute.”

Peyton frowns, turning to look back at Luca, then grins, “Oh you’re so done for once we’re actually Husband and Wife. Control yourself, would ya?”

“How is this my fault when you go on looking like that?” Luca brings his attention back to her face, hand thrown up in the air.

Peyton just shakes her head at him, “I guess I’ll meet you out there.”

Luca shields his eyes, a man defeated but loves to watch her leave but hated to see her go.

Peyton reenters the party, chatting with a few guests who chose to chill inside. She fixes a plate, keeping busy, waiting for Luca to join her.

Upstairs, he’s still catching his breath.

Turns out headlines don’t always have to be the loudest. Sometimes it’s just two soulmates who found their way.

⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ ⭑.ᐟ

Continue with my summer anthology prompts here.

[ulteri0rm0tives]

I wonder if Johnny, when he kills, despite trying his very fucking hardest to run from the programming of the military, uses the same justification that's usually instilled there. That he's only doing what he has to do with no time to ruminate on it. I wonder if he feels any guilt over this, remorse, that his ego soothes over with these justifications. That they deserve it. That he doesn't really leave the dehumanization that he's learned in the military pertaining to his 'targets' behind. That in his eyes, these are lives that don't matter due to not aligning with his personal beliefs or interests.

[bythehearts]

not to bring tiktok drama on tumblr but like every time a ‘scandal’ comes out with one of these ‘production companies’ that make fan films i always hope we’re finally gonna discuss how they professionalize something that should be an hobbyist endeavor… and yet every single time i’m disappointed.

[sparky-is-spiders]

Thinking about Jon feeling the emotions and experiences of statement givers through the lens of Aro!Jon. Jon who went through his entire life thinking everyone else was just very odd about romance. Not understanding the obsession. Feeling vaguely resigned to the idea that he'll probably have to date at some point (but just not right now; he's too busy you see). And sometimes someone will come along and he'll sort of... center them. Find them so fascinating, so admirable, crave their kindness and approval and enjoy talking with them for hours at a time and maybe that's what romantic love is?

But then there's a statement (maybe Naomi Herne's?) where there's this alien, cloying, oily emotion flooding him. It feels wrong in his body, his head, his chest, like it doesn't belong at all. It takes him several statements to recognize it as romantic love, and suddenly he realizes he's never experienced it at all.

[skrunksthatwunk]

have just been introduced to a kitten named rascal who lives on my floor and whose babysitters (who are not his owner?) were trying Really hard to goad me into adopting which like. he's a little baby and he's so so so silly and he barely even bit me but like also. this cat isn't yours???? anyway if the owner's giving him up then I might finally have a cat which like AHHHHHG

[sesamenom]

trying to figure out Lomion's relationships for the reverse gondolin au - so far I have Rog as his mentor instead of Eol and Celegorm as his "uncle". he's not particularly close with Idril, but Turgon helps him with the politics/statecraft stuff. anyways I can't figure out a marriage candidate for him for heir-identification purposes so

[todayisafridaynight]

tw // suicide

on twitter some ppl were talking about THAT jo scene from iw again and someone commented fucking "you know he was thinking about using that gun on himself" and im not sane anymore !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! added something something his faith in ichi kept him hopeful enough in the moment but then when he went to jail oh. ohhh !!!!!!!!!!!

nooo cause if That Jo Scene is the flashback scene with hoshino's death that really had to be SUUUCH a low point if not top five lowest points for him i wanted to throw up watching that <- replays it in my brain constantly

[depresseddepot]

uh oh!!!! starting to feel unqualified for the opportunities I have been given!!!!

[krysmcscience]

At long last: either an alternate explanation for or continuation of my prior comic regarding how Bill was ABSOLUTELY naked in Ford's karaoke night drawing. (Because errors in art do not exist. Artists do not make mistakes. So if you see any in this comic, No You Do Not.)

I am so normal about these old dorks.

I'm not really clear on exactly when Bill started throwing his desperation book at Ford just like a needy ex do, but I find it extremely funny to imagine it happening literally the day of or after the makeshift funeral. Bill just gets this weird sense of 'Ford is taking steps to move on' and CANNOT FUCKING ABIDE.

I hope you enjoy all the goofy things I added to each page of Bill's sad spieling. (Everything SHOULD be readable so long as you view the full size, but I have added basically this whole little fanfic in the image descriptions, LMAO, which lays out all the little written notes and such.) Also don't ask how Bill managed to sneak that vampire pen in there. I have no idea, and honestly? I don't wanna know.

Oh, and a little bonus comic:

Of course Bill would take it as flirting. Because between the two of them, Bill is the bigger masochist By Far. :)

Also I have continued applying The Good Place logic to any of Bill's attempts to swear. Case in point, one last bonus image, this time with a motivational line from my slapdash Theraprism OC, EV-01:

Yes, its name is just 'love' backwards. No, I will not be taking any feedback on this. Yes, EV-01 was only ever assigned to Bill's case due to the Theraprism being desperate to make some progress in rehabilitating him. No, it did not work anywhere close to staff's expectations - Bill didn't even appreciate EV-01's matching fondness for bowties! (He claimed the fondness to be "cultural appropriation" and insisted he'd been traumatized by it.)

Anyway, if you like my stuff, reblogs are very much appreciated, and if you really really like it, perhaps consider my commissions or yeeting a teeny tiny tip my way? I am trying to recoup over 500 dollars in vet bills, ahaha... 🙃

In other news, I loved all the fun tags people added to the prior naked-karaoke comic (such as 'the hat and bow-tie stay ON during sex' and the classic '[insert keysmash here]', as well as the many amused/bewildered remarks about how I either made the bricks a piece of clothing or just straight up peeled Bill's skin off). However, I think my favorite thing by far was the several people losing their shit over the fact that I gave Bill toes. Like, excuse me? The magical talking triangle can have fingers but not toes??? Since when was that a rule????? 🤣 (Also the one person who reblogged with the cropped panel where Bill's fishnets pants are falling off to ask why Bill peed himself. Dude, I want to examine your brain...?)

Okie-dokie, I'm sick of looking at all of this stuff now and I'm off to go to work, after which I will either scribble some more goofy "Billford" comics or perhaps draw my lame human!Bill in Situations, idk yet. Maybe I'll even finally draw more than just a single other person's human!Bill...? Who knows, but I sure hope I can mix it up a little and not turn whatever I draw into a month-long fukken project. >:\

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。take my time (i’ll spend it all on you) | gojo satoru

wc: 1.6k

summary: gojo sees you in lingerie for the first time. 

contains: f!reader, suggestive almost nsfw (they make out… maybe a bit steamy), 18+ just in case, reader is in lingerie, shy feelings!! gojo down bad!!

a/n: i hc that the first time gojo sees you in lingerie, it’s like seeing you walk down the aisle—he’s a bit sappy like that! i also think that he’d love seeing his lover in pink! idk! it’s just the vibes! (col reader would look cute in pink too i think hehe complements the personality!); takes place later on, around col #4 (wip)

collection masterlist: conversations on love 3.5b. —will i ever bring you peace? <- you are here -> +04b (extra). if you're ready (let me) + 04. these traces of love, they outline you

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

There are few things in life that have earned Gojo’s double take: 

A sign for a newly-opened gelato shop with ‘exclusive flavors for the first 30 customers!’ written in fine print; Megumi, back in middle school, being confessed to with a sweetly handcrafted box of chocolates for Valentine’s Day; a small cut, right at the tip of his nose from that time you sparred with him and he let you get too close (or so he says). 

And now you. 

In something pink—

—that if he backtracks just a bit, steps one foot behind the other to glance again at the space left open by the bedroom door, and squints—

He’s certain, 200% sure. 

It’s lingerie. 

He blinks once, twice, rubs at his eyes even as his mind attempts to catch up to whatever it is–you–he just saw. This must be what wires feel when they short circuit. 

You know he’s home, right? You have to, you just told him to rinse the dishes after snacking.

And he was in the middle of doing that—walking across your apartment from couch to kitchen, stopping only to do a double take at the sight of pink in his periphery, at you, once he looked again, clearly. 

Or were you doing this on purpose? Did you want him to see you? 

He gulps, warmth spreading from the tips of his ears down to his neck, lingering. 

There’s only one way to find out, really. 

He walks down the hallway leading to the bedroom, keeping his footsteps light so as to not startle you.

If he’s being honest right now, his mind is full to the point of feeling empty—too many thoughts swirling around the fact that behind this very door, he’s about to find you in pink lingerie. 

And when he takes a deep breath, fingertips pushing on wood very slightly as he calls out, “Bab—“

“S’toru!” you squeal from the other side, panicked as you instantly push it back closed.

So you didn’t do it on purpose. 

“Sorry, give me a minute!” you call out, and he can hear your footsteps from the other side, frantically walking around for what he can assume is you looking for something to cover yourself with. 

But he doesn’t want that. 

Not when he already has the visual of you, pretty in what he suspects is pink lace.

Not when the way you said ‘S’toru’ sounded so much like ‘‘Toru’, your ‘‘Toru’, the way you usually say it pressed against bed sheets, under him, expression blissed out from—

Do you have any idea what that does to him? 

“Are you wearing lingerie?” 

You freeze. Gojo can tell from the other side of the door, and you think, damn it, because he isn’t supposed to know you bought a set, much less see you in it. Not yet. 

You could try to lie, but Gojo always sees through you, through every change in inflection, the way your eyebrow twitches before speaking. 

“Can I come in?” he asks softly, almost hesitantly. 

How can you possibly resist him when he speaks to you like this? Asking permission as if this space you live in isn’t as much his?

You sigh, flustered at being caught this way, “Can you close your eyes first?” 

He follows, laying one hand over his eyes for good measure before knocking on the door. You open it slowly, wood creaking as he steps inside. 

You feel a little naked right now despite how he isn’t even looking your way, opting to face the side opposite from where you’re standing. It’s on purpose, you know, he can tell where you are—Six Eyes and all. 

There’s a smile that he’s hiding, biting his lower lip to stop it from showing. His toes are wiggling from the excitement coursing through him.

You know Gojo will like you in anything; in fact, he’s made it very clear that he prefers you in nothing—but still. Your stomach feels queasy and you can’t get rid of how nervous you’re feeling. 

And you guess, it’s really just because this was meant to be a surprise for him—the design you’ve chosen, how it looks on your body, how it looks to him, especially. You’d ordered the lingerie set months in advance to leave a lot of time for returns, whether it turned out ill-fitting or just unflattering.

You didn’t expect him to catch a glimpse of it now, months before his birthday, before you were even ready. 

“I’m waiting…” he teases, voice sing-song in that way he usually does to annoy you. It always makes you smile though, and it’s an odd form of comforting with how it dulls your jitters right now, just a little bit.

“Okay, you can look.” 

As soon as he turns, you squeeze your eyes shut, hands on your sides as you fiddle with your fingernails. Seeing, knowing his reaction in real time is still nervewracking, regardless of every reassurance you tell yourself—because, what if this is the off-chance that you’re wrong, and he doesn’t like it? 

Or worse: what if he has to pretend he likes it?

You frown a bit—it doesn’t help at all that Gojo isn’t saying anything.

But—

How can he, when there are no words, no adjectives, no possible descriptions to articulate what he’s seeing—what he’s feeling?

If he didn’t die then, in every instance he’s brushed with death: by Toji’s hands, locked up inside that box, in that final moment with Sukuna, nearly halved—

He thinks he might have just died right now. 

Because this? You? In lingerie as pink as all he’s feeling—his cheeks, his nose, flushing down his neck, maybe even his chest if it were exposed. 

It’s heaven. 

You’re a sight. 

While Gojo has certainly seen you in much less, and done with you things much more than just stand with you like this, he’s never seen you in lingerie.

And you’re so pretty. Sexy. All his, he can’t believe it.   

He’s noticing all the little details on it–on you–its shade, almost salmon with a bit of baby pink; its material: sheer net as the base for everything—it’s practically see-through save for the delicate floral lace running across the bra cups and panty front.

The set itself is nice, sure, but he knows he only likes it this much because it’s on you. And he knows he’ll always like anything on you. 

The heat in his stomach is building, spreading, to the single part of him that—

“Is it that bad?” you scrunch your nose, eyes still closed. He looks at you confused, before he realizes: he hasn’t said anything.

He chuckles and you open your eyes, pouting. 

And God, he wishes you didn’t do that. That look on your face—what it does to him.

“I ordered it in advance for your birthday,” you start, pout deepening as you ramble on, “it was supposed to be a surprise, but if you don’t like it, I can still–” 

That’s enough. 

He can’t believe that you actually think he doesn’t like it. 

Gojo steps into your space, close enough to grab you by the waist as his other hand reaches up to slot itself in the area between your ear and your jawline, tilting your head up slightly as he leans in to kiss you. 

It’s rushed at first, almost desperate—hungry, the way he releases his breath only to take you in; your lips, soft in the way he knows them to be, his hand on your waist squeezing. Your fingertips trail to his cheek, almost cupping as his kisses turn deeper, more languid, lips moving against yours slowly, savoring. 

Gojo is a fast learner, and he shows it best in the way he kisses you, as if he’s memorized every way to build that familiar heat within you. You lay your other hand against his chest, gripping at the fabric of his t-shirt as he pulls you closer. 

You bite his lip and suck, just a little bit, the way he likes it, and he moans, lowly, vibrations rippling through your mouth as he holds you steady. He’s hard already; you can feel it pressing against your lower belly. 

And you realize, as a small laugh tears itself away from you, how ridiculous it was for you to even worry. 

You break the kiss, leaning your forehead against his as you keep your noses touching. It’s impossible to tell how Gojo looks, but you have a hunch with how he’s breathing so heavily; the skies in his eyes must be darker, almost gray, turned on by desire—the same one settling deep in your stomach, aching, needy. 

“It’s perfect,” he whispers, lips grazing yours. He traces hearts by your shoulder, something born out of the many times you’ve lain in bed together, playing with the strap of your bra before pulling, a short snap! as he lets go. 

“You like it?” you whisper back, a lilt in your tone, teasing. Your fingers come up to trace his lips and he holds them in place, nipping. 

“Mhm,” he grins, smoothing his hand over the lace details on your bra, his thumb rubbing, “so pretty.” 

He leans in again, a small peck, before asking, “Does this mean I can get my gift now?” 

You laugh, hitting his chest, “It’s not your birthday yet!” 

“Yeah, but what is time anyway?” 

And you know, with the way he’s trailing kisses down your neck, licking and sucking—you’re going to have to find another thing to surprise him with on his birthday. 

.

Later that evening, with your head lying right on his chest, you remember. 

“Oh yeah, the set also came with one of those belt things. Garter, I think? But I wasn’t sure if you’d be into–” 

You’ve never seen Gojo get up from bed faster.

thank you notes: for that anon that asked about whether col reader wears lingerie! + @stellamancer @soumies @crysugu for validating me that pink is in fact col reader's colour ᰔ i also just luv u guys 🥺

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[taegimood]

— nudes?! (c.yj) ♡

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem!reader genre: best friends to ?, non-idol au, suggestive rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 1k warnings: mention/description of reader’s nudes, brief mention of masturbation (m), brief mention of sex, implication of sexy time at the end, yj has a boner, they’re both horny idk synopsis: what happens when your best friend who secretly has the hots for you accidentally sees your nudes?

requested forever ago by @mapofthemazeinthemirror <3 [blog status: semi-hiatus, requests closed]

| soobin ver. | beomgyu ver. | taehyun ver. | kai ver. |

masterlist

──────────────────────

you and yeonjun are close. really close. best friends and partners in crime, who have no problem letting each other into your lives — even into your phones.

which in this case, however, does not turn out the way that either of you expect.

you and yeonjun aren't unfamiliar with the topic of sex; you've ranted to each other many times before about your different sexual escapades, but of course there are always lines, and the line that yeonjun finds himself accidentally crossing right now as he stares at your open camera roll is something that he does not know what to do with. what he once swore would always be a harmless crush, a secret attraction that he's admittedly sometimes used to get himself off but nothing more, has suddenly just shifted into that something more entirely.

it started out with him coming over for a typical hangout day, letting himself in and plopping down on your bed to wait for you as you stepped into the shower.

he's just scrolling through his phone when he hears the music from your speaker cut out and your following groan of frustration.

"jun?" you call. "can you see what's up with spotify? my phone is next to the sink."

"yeah," he calls back as he trudges over to the bathroom, reaching through the slightly cracked-open door to retrieve your phone. leaning against the doorframe from the outside, humming the song that was playing before the music stopped, he types in your passcode and prepares to locate your spotify app.

the melody catches in his throat and his humming comes to an abrupt halt at the sight that he's greeted with instead.

your open camera roll. your open camera roll with pictures of you.

your open camera roll with pictures of you naked.

he knows he shouldn't look — he knows he should close out of the app, bleach his eyes, carry on to spotify, and pretend this never happened.

but FUCK…

he had no idea you could look this sexy.

slowly, guiltily, his thumb hovers lower and lower until he finds himself clicking on the first picture.

it’s even better than what he’s imagined — he swears his lip may start bleeding from how hard he's biting down on it, the sight of your curves, your tits, your thighs, the hint of your pussy, wiping away all thoughts of anything else. these were pictures you had just taken before your shower; pictures you'd taken mere minutes before he'd arrived to your apartment.

his cock twitches in his pants.

he's getting harder and harder as he scrolls through each photo, enraptured by your body, by the look in your eyes that he's never seen on you before - each new pose sending a lick of fire shooting through his body as he fights the guilt that knocks at the corner of his mind.

who is she sending these to???

jealousy. it takes him a moment to realize that the thought makes him jealous.

suddenly he doesn't want any other man to see you like this, to touch you or kiss you or feel you; fuck, you're naked right now just like this, with only a door to separate the two of you, and he feels no better than a pervy middle school boy caught red-handed as he's yanked from his filthy thoughts when you call out, "jun??? is the app not working??"

with a jolt he's scrambling to put your phone back onto the counter, nearly missing, before slamming the bathroom door shut and rushing back to your bed where his own phone lays discarded.

what the hell am i supposed to-

"jun!!! what the-

.............. fuck."

after a painfully long pause, the realization dawns in your voice at the same time as yeonjun's stomach drops. he freezes as he hears the shower come to a stop.

another long pause.

the bathroom door slowly clicks open and you peek your head out. "yeonjun..."

"i-i'm sorry, i didn't look. i mean i did. i-i mean i'll forget that i did. i'm sorry, fuck, i shouldn't have. i'll uh- i'll just let you, um.. i'll just go."

he's halfway out the door before you can blink and you scramble after him in nothing but a towel, not caring that you're dripping all over your floors as you call out, "yeonjun, wait!", nearly slipping as you tug him to a stop in the hallway by the back of his shirt.

you can tell that he's trying his hardest not to look at you when you force him to turn around, the tips of his ears red and the tent in his pants obvious, his height an advantage as he suddenly finds the wall past your head to be the most interesting thing in the world.

you're the one who called after him and yet you're not sure what to say; how are you supposed to tell your smoking hot best friend that you took those pictures with him in mind?

you're not sure exactly what he's thinking, but the raging boner that he's currently failing to cover up is enough for you to decide that there's only one way to find out.

yeonjun clears his throat. "you-"

"i'm gonna drop my towel now."

"WHAT- w-wait-!!"

"you don't want it?"

"i- i.." your sudden declaration was enough to shock yeonjun into looking straight at you, eyes huge and caught by surprise, and now he can't bring himself to look away at the sight of you standing there — wet hair framing your pretty, bare face, the sweet scent from your body wash wafting over him, skin still glistening and rivulets of water dripping down your neck, down your collarbones, down towards your.. your…

he swallows hard.

the soft swell of your breasts pushed up by the little towel that you're ready to drop for him has stolen all of his focus. everything that he saw in those pictures, everything that's now set him on fire, is standing right in front of him begging to be touched; he watches as a bead of water disappears between the curve of your breasts, and that's the tipping point.

his darkened eyes meet yours.

"i want it."

[bitterreid]

🌷 Bad dream, baby - S.R. 🌷

summary: After Spencer gets wounded in the field, you do your absolute best to take care of your boyfriend in pain. He is having a particularly tough time with it, frustrations running high, and he thinks he knows how to solve it, but you're not so sure.

or: idiots in love that learn to communicate :) and have sexy times :)

Category: smut but also hurt/comfort and it's extremely fluffy and he's angsty. I did it, I collected them all. 

Contains: porn with plot, vague descriptions of canon typical violence and injuries, fem!reader, smut!!! so minors DNI!, dry humping, a lot of fluff, hurt/comfort, unprotected p in v (pretend she's on birth control idk), implied (?) cockwarming, intimacy, very many feelings, established relationship, whiny Spence but no s/d dynamics, I am so down bad for this man help me

Trigger warning??? I'm not really sure whether this is relevant but better be safe than sorry! At the start there is a case of a sort of dubious consent? It gets communicated about, resolved and turns out really sweet (and nothing malicious goes on at all), but always take care of yourself and skip this one if that sounds like something that's not for you <3

word count: 5.9k 

a/n: Look I'll say it first. I have a Thing™️ for wounded men. It's okay. You can say it too <3 This is our support group now.

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"I'll be right back, baby" you said, as you took the dirty plates to the kitchen. 

A sigh escaped your lips as soon as the door closed behind you. Not because you were tired of Spencer, never, but your heart just felt so heavy having to see him like this.

It had been a little over a week now since Spencer had been seriously injured in the field. His injuries had been worse than any other member had ever been harmed, and after having to spend a few nights in the hospital, you finally had him to yourself again. The last few days had been some of the worst of your whole life. Getting the call about the shooting had felt like being shot yourself, and racing to the hospital in a perpetual state of panic and despair had felt like it lasted forever. Seeing Spencer unconscious on a hospital bed, being dragged away to surgery, it had almost been too much to handle. It all seemed so far away now, and getting to sit by his side as he opened his eyes again, that was a flood of relief that would never again be parallelled. "Hi…" he had said, large eyes lidded, a faint smile on his lips, and you had just burst into tears on the spot.

You shook your head to get away from the thoughts, feeling the warm water hit your skin as you started to wash the dishes. It hadn't been easy, having Spencer home and pretty much immoble for another while. Of course you had immediately jumped at the opportunity to take him home and care for him yourself, you loved him so much and nothing could change that, but that didn't mean it wasn't hard on you, or on Spencer.

You could see that he was really struggling. He was always so independent, from a young age already and now even more so, so naturally being unable to even stand on his own was like torture to him. You did your very very best to accommodate him, helping him where necessary and letting him take the wheel where he could, but it was a tough balance. He was extremely proud and though he was more than grateful and appreciative of your help, his frustrations were beginning to run high.

Not that you didn't understand, of course. Despite the frequent and sincere thank you's you were given every day, it must all have been so frustrating to him… Spencer was not good at being taken care of in general, you had noticed. He was a giver through and through, selfless, kind, generous, and he had never been in a position where he received just so much. It was eating him alive that he couldn't give you anything in return.

Of course you didn't want or need anything for your care, you loved him and would do anything to make him comfortable in his time of need, but you could see the (entirely misplaced) guilt on his face when you made him his meals, helped him into his clothes, or fetched him another book.

You strolled back into your bedroom, Spencer still in the exact position you had left him in. Not that he had much choice. He put his book down slowly and smiled at you warmly. You returned the smile, but seeing him like this made your heart hurt every single time, no denying it. His right leg was propped up on some pillows. The bullet had penetrated his knee, and at first the doctors weren't sure he would ever be able to use it again, but after emergency surgery, luck had finally been on Spencer's side. During the fall, he managed to sustain an injury to his ribs which had needed stitches, and he had hit his head on something, which had left a glaring gash right though his eyebrow.

"Hi, baby" he said, looking extra soft in his pyjama pants and shirt, "ready for the movie?" 

"Sure am," you smiled warmly at him and got on top of the blankets. You had deemed every single night movie night while Spencer was bed-bound, you know, silver linings and such. Spencer lazily put his arm around your waist as you cuddled up next to him - carefully - and pressed play on the old Italian black-and-white drama. (Spencer's pick, naturally.) You had had to beg him for subtitles, because no matter how much you loved his whispered translations in your ear, you just could not keep up that way. Not that you understood all that much of it this way either, but Spencer seemed to enjoy it, and anything for him.

"Hey, baby, you want some hot chocolate?" you were halfway through the movie at this point, not that you understood anything close to half of it, but anyway.

Spencer smiled sheepishly, which you had learned to take as a yes from him. "Yeah?" you smiled at him, kissing his shoulder briefly before getting up.

"Only if it's not a bother!" he was quick to say, holding your wrist gently in his palm, his eyes pretty and impossibly round.

"For you?" you kissed his nose, "Never."

He smiled in the bashful way that you knew all too well. You tried to sprinkle in little sentiments like that last one, in hopes that he would finally start to believe them, but for now you knew that some twisted sort of guilt over being taken care of was eating at him.

When you returned with the mugs, you placed his on his bed-side table, as it was still too hot to drink immediately. You got back into bed, right away finding your place next to Spencer again. The movie progressed slowly, but you were content just cuddling with Spencer all night, or this careful version of cuddling, at least, trying to avoid any bruised or battered parts of him.

"Did you know that actually-" (you already knew you would not know whatever was to follow), "the director of this movie wanted to shoot it by the sea, but the guy who plays Phillipe just absolutely refused to?" Spencer giggled to himself, "They had to shoot by a big lake instead."

"How do you even find all these fun facts at this point?" the warmth you felt for him was evident in your tone.

"Don't know," he smiled down at you tucked beside him, "just catch them here and there, I guess"

"Oh yeah," you drawl, "me too, I'm always just hearing about old Italian movie stars and their affinity for lakes."

This drew a chuckle out of Spencer, his eyes sparkling like they always used to do. "They actually did end up winning multiple prizes for this film back in the day, so people could hypothetically still be talking about it to this day, you know, it made a lasting impression on the way they still today portray loneliness in relations to large bodies of water and how people-"

Spencer suddenly hissed out in pain, after which you heard a dull thud on the floor beside him. He had tried to grab the mug off the table, but the wound on his ribs must have caused him to drop it, you deduced and, oh, you knew this was so not what he needed after the already difficult day- week- month he'd had. You charged up for maximum damage control.

"Spencer-" you tried.

"Shit. I- Auch," he groaned in pain again, clutching his side.

"Spencer, no, baby stop trying to twist your torso, it's alright, I-" He wasn't listening, he was looking over the edge of the bed with clenched teeth, staring at the slowly spreading stain on your white bedside rugs.

"I- I'm so sorry, I'm- I'm just-" you could see the emotions taking over, it was all just too much in this moment. You had known this would eventually happen, he had been so brave, so well-behaved, just like you knew Spencer to be, but the frustrations had to come to the surface one way or another, you knew that very well. 

"I, just, FUCK" he near shouted. It was strange hearing Spencer cuss in this setting, normally so calm and collected.

"It's alright, Spence, really, I know it was an accident," You slowly got out of bed to take out some paper towels to try and manage the bleeding stain. "I can just throw these in the wash and tomorrow all will be alright." You tried to smile at him, but he wouldn't meet your eyes, still transfixed on the rug. 

"No." he said, just as you crouched down. "No, let me do this, it's my mess." there was a red blush creeping up his neck from below his collar and his eyes were fiery. He tried to lift his leg off the mountain of pillows, to no avail, as he immediately had to cease his efforts due to another spell of pain washing over him. 

He groaned - in frustration or pain, or both - and your heart broke in two. "Spencer," you said softly, sitting down carefully on the edge of the bed. He tried to get back up again and failed, clenching his teeth as he held onto his side. You reached your hand out to him, wanting to stroke his hair, but he ducked away harshly. Your hand faltered in the air, not used to reactions like this, and so it took you a second to remember to take your hand back into your lap.

He looked back at you, his scrunched-up brows smoothing out again when he saw you sitting there. "No- God, I'm sorry, I don't- I didn't- mean to-" he was breathing irregularly now, almost hyperventilating, wringing his hands in strained motions. There was so much pent up emotion in his body, fear from the shooting, pain from its wounds, anger over their consequences and guilt for the care they required, it was all coming to a head now. "I'm just so fucking, it's all so incredibly-" he was trying to push it back in, keep it all to himself again, but you knew the both of you couldn't continue like this. And he knew it too. It was as if he was trying to cram too many emotions all into one envelope to seal it off again, but finding it impossible. The fiery waves still spilled out of his eyes, the desperation layering onto itself until he was nearly shaking.

"Just, let it all out Spence, you don't have to hold it in, you can just yell for a while if it would make you feel better." you tried to soothe him best you could, you didn't know what would calm him now, and you didn't really dare to guess, but his eyes looked so pleadingly in your direction, looking for answers you didn't have.

"No, No," he shook his head, wincing again afterwards "I-" he groaned, now out of pure and visible frustration, and suddenly he took your hands, placing them on his chest "Will you just, touch me, please?" His amber eyes, impossibly big and begging, bored into yours.

"T- touch you?" you weren't sure you understood him right.

"Please-" his voice broke, desperate, desolate.

"O-okay, sure, Spence, anything," You didn't quite know what to do exactly, your hands stayed still on his chest, your mind racing with what to do. 

Clearly displeased with your inactivity, Spencer whined and his hands reached out, he took a light hold of your waist and tried to pull you closer, which was not as simple in your current position. You finally understood, he wanted you close, so you snaked one hand behind his neck to tangle in the curls at the bottom of his skull, and let the other one lightly graze the skin of his collarbones, making his muscles relax ever so slightly. His eyes still stared disparagingly back at you, as he kept clumsily pawing at you to get closer.

You leaned in slightly and gave him a quick, experimental peck on his lips. Hungry like a tiger, however, he kissed you back, hands immediately tangling in your hair, lips immediately seeking more contact. He kissed you like a man starved, like it had been ages since he had you close at all. You kissed him back, taken aback a little, but the familiar deep lull of his kisses didn't go unnoticed as you let your guard slip just a little, giving into his touch. 

Still not exactly sure where this was going, or what on earth he was trying to communicate, you let him manoeuvre (more like manhandle) you fully onto his side of the bed. You knew he was being careful - it was Spencer, after all - but in his desperation and need, he failed to account for his current situation, bumping into his painful leg or his bruises. He winced into the kiss, but still refused to break it, kissing and softly licking into your mouth as he went. 

"Spencer-" you tried, as you momentarily leaned away, but the amber of his eyes had molten, pools of craving peering back at you. He leaned forward with you, closing the gap again and once more capturing your lips with his. His gentle but guiding hands on your waist had directed your legs open on either side of him, essentially hovering you over him in a straddling position. You didn't dare to bring your hips down in fear of hurting his leg, so you just awkwardly loomed over him.

Getting his lips off of yours proved to be harder than you'd anticipated, with Spencer kissing you like you were the air he desperately needed, yet holding you so firmly to his lips that there was hardly any chance to breathe. It didn't help that his kisses were absolutely intoxicating. The need and passion he poured into each gentle peck and deep lick made you want to sink into him more and more. 

When you finally came back to yourself and managed to get some distance between your faces, he whined softly at the loss of contact, his lips red and slightly shiny in the dim light. 

"Spencer," your tone was somewhere balancing on a thin line between affectionate and scolding. He was blushing, of passion, of something more akin to shame, you didn't know for sure. He was pleading, he was pawing at your hips again before you could utter the next word. "I'm not sure we should- you're still-" he winced at your careful words. 

He gently pushed your hips towards his, softly, lovingly, like he had done a hundred times before, but this was different. "Please," his voice soft and almost breaking, "baby?" And with that plea, your hips slowly connected. How were you to refuse? Softly, you sat your weight down on him, terrified to hurt him, only thinking about his knee, his bruises, but Spencer only hummed when your core connected with his obvious hard-on. 

"Are you alr-" his large hands were on the side of your face once more, drawing you in for another kiss. It was intoxicating, his lips moving against your own just the way you liked it, slow, but drawn out long and passionate, with Spencer's little sounds mixing in here and there to pull you under completely. You had missed this so much, this closeness, this heat, his lips and touches. But you could not get carried away, he was being rash, he needed to communicate. This could not be something that hurt him down the line.

You kissed him back softly, trying to take the heat out of the exchange, but he kept pouring it back in, deepening and deepening. You slid your hands into his hair, which he took as an affirmation to grind your hips into his. He let out a flustered sound at the contact, like a craving finally being met. But you had other plans. You pulled his hair softly, just the way he liked, but you pulled his face away from you. His eyes shone with betrayal, being unable to reach your lips now.

He couldn't look at you. This was not his usual way of initiating anything. He was always so communicative, so in search of consent and praise wherever he went. This sudden desperation worried you, like it was all just a cover, a trick.

Despite his lanky frame and current state, he was strong, he leaned forward (your mind immediately going to the purple splotches on his ribs) and buried his face in your neck, so as to not look at you. There he began planting small kisses, carefully, sweetly, like you knew him. But his hands also continued to grind your hips into his, seeking friction.

"Spencer- are- are you sure?" You gently offered, still combing through his hair, feeling his hot, now slightly quickened breath on your neck.

He only whined in response, only grinding you down more desperately on his lap.

"Spence, baby," you shushed, trying to convey that it was okay, that there was no need for this urgency, that you were not going anywhere. His breathing in the crook of your neck was frantic now. "Spencer," you tried again, as you softly ground down your hips on your own volition. Immediately his grip loosened, a small moan being drawn from his lips. You softly continued the movement, as it seemed to physically melt his pent up state back to the man you knew. The heat low in your belly started to burn at the edges from the friction his clear arousal warranted, but you ignored it in favour of checking in on Spencer.

You carefully cradled his head and brought it so you could look him in his eyes, but he kept them closed. As long as you continued the movement, his face stayed relaxed and borderline content, though you could still sense his frantic state in the occasional scrunch of his nose or the semblance of a frown pulling his eyebrows tight. You made the movements come to a halt, carefully inspecting Spencer's face, awaiting his reaction. His breath stuttered, probably from the sudden lack of friction, and his eyes slowly opened. 

His big brown irises were overflowing with a desperation you thought only existed in Victorian novels. You could almost see the inner emotions of it all working, a glimpse of sadness, toppled over into guilt, pushed under by the sheer need for closeness, and then the fear of it. You carefully caressed his cheek with your thumb, "baby…", he immediately leaned into the contact. "I'm right here, okay?" Big brown doe eyes just peering back at you, 

"I'm right here, but, you have to talk to me, Spence. I don't know what's going on in your head," your own voice sounded surprisingly small and sad to your ears, and Spencer winced at the words. 

"I-" he opened his mouth and closed it again. You could see he was at a loss for words, that he probably also didn't know what was going on or where this was all coming from. "I'm, I'm so sorry" he spoke, his eyes wide and sincere, like he was just looking down on the situation for the first time. He let go of your hips at once, looking at his own hands with a degree of bewilderment, his eyes somewhat glassy as they floated back up to you.

"No- no, you don't have to apologise," you felt guilty at once, "there's nothing to be sorry about." A small smile formed on your lips, caressing the sides of his face once more. "Hey," you tilted his face to yours, eyes flickering over the gash in his eyebrow, down to the yellowing bruise high on his cheekbone, "It's alright."

He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering closed at the gentle contact. "I'm sorry," he whispered once more, turning his face slightly to kiss your wrist softly as it passed by his lips. "I just, I just think I missed you… you know," a blush took over his cheeks, colour muddling with the bruises, "this… this way", his sentence trailed off towards the end.

"Oh," you felt your own cheeks burn at his gentle confession, "Oh, I- I didn't know," you were at a loss for words yourself now. You had been so caught up in caring for him that any physical intimacy honestly had just slipped your mind. 

"No! No, no, no, you couldn't have known, I, I should have said something, but I didn't know how, you're so sweet, for taking care of me, I didn't want to ask for even more" he closed his eyes, furrowing his brows, mentally beating himself up, no doubt.

"Oh Spence," you leaned in slightly and softly pecked his lips, "I'm sorry, I just didn't think of it, honestly, I was so focussed on taking care of you, your knee and your bruises, I just got caught up in it all I think… I was just so worried-" 

"Yeah, no!" he sounded slightly panicked. "I- oh God, I'm such an asshole," he pressed the palms of his hands against his eye sockets, "you're here taking care of me - excellently! Oh, so excellently, couldn't ask for anyone better, nicer, I mean- God, you're here caring for me and I'm just here complaining about not- not-" a deep blush found its way back onto his cheeks and he looked away, deflating just a little. 

"Look," his eyes bored into yours again and this time they were soft around the edges, a little pleading, "I don't want you to think that you did anything wrong. At all. I just, it's all been so much, you know…" 

"Of course, I know, baby," you stroked a stray lock of hair out of his face and he softly took a hold of your hand, rubbing small circles on the back of it.

"And you just, this just-" you quietly marvelled at how, still, after all this time, Spencer was just as bashful as the day you met, "brings me comfort?" his eyes were glued to your entangled hands. "I just really want you close, … this close." he sheepishly motioned to where your bodies connected.

The puzzle pieces fit. He just needed extra comfort, especially at a time like this. You smiled at him, hoping to calm the vibrations of nervous energy coming off of him. "Well, we can do that," you whispered, trying to make your voice soft and velvet to the touch. Spencer seemed to soften at the edges. 

"Yeah?" his eyes impossibly wide and full of adoration.

"Of course, Spence," you kissed his lips softly, combing through his hair once more and staying closeby. "It's just, I'm scared of hurting you."

He peered up at you, hands finding your waist once more, "Don't be. I'm not made of glass."

You appreciated the false bravado, but you also knew the way he winced in pain every time he had to do as little as get dressed. You could hardly stand the little sounds of pain, the way his pretty eyes screwed shut. "Spencer," 

The pleading look was back. He kissed you softly, intimately, his lips finding yours like they were made to fit there, "we'll be careful," he promised against your lips.

"Very careful?" you asked as you lost yourself little by little in the kisses. 

"Very careful." he confirmed, his voice low and breathy. God, you had missed seeing him like this, feeling him like this. The way he held your face while he kissed you, borderline possessive but mostly so insanely sweet. His tongue traced your puffy bottom lip, asking for entrance you gladly gave.

Your arms snaked around him for real this time, pulling him closer by his hair. He moaned into the kiss, a gentle vibration you hadn't known you missed so much until you tasted it again. He was hungry, hands tracing your body, but he was still so Spencer. So warm and lovely, large fingers caressing your sides and back like you were something to worship. 

You revelled in his adoration, letting yourself melt against the familiar warmth of his body, the distant smell of his sweet cologne and shampoo. You couldn't help but moan softly when Spencer squeezed the soft flesh around your hips, only now realising how much you had missed his gentle touch. 

You carefully brought your hands down from his hair and started undoing the top button of his pyjama shirt. Spencer smiled into the kiss, content with your cooperation no doubt. You never could deny the pretty boy in front of you anything after all.

The shirt falling away revealed a canvas of pale skin dotted with bruises in various shapes and colours. Peeling the fabric off his shoulders carefully, you finally broke the heated kiss and ventured to look down to his chest. Spencer eyed you carefully, not quite bashfully, but with an uncertainty in his eyes. You vowed to make it disappear at once.

Small kisses starting from his jawline found their way through the minefield of bruises, paying attention not to hurt him in the process. First his collarbones, then downwards to his chest and abdomen, you left no untouched space unkissed. Spencer revelled in your attention, your care, your love.

"Hey," he said softly. You looked up at him in the dim light, your hair falling in your eyes. He took your face into his hands and kissed you tenderly. His fingers found the hem of your t-shirt, gently lifting the edge until you raised your arms to let him pull it over your head. Wearing no bra, you were now topless sitting in his lap. Oh how you had missed seeing the warm brown of Spencer's eyes flash up into something sharper. He let his eyes roam over your body in a way closer to reverie than hunger, though you knew it possessed both. If he hadn't had an eidetic memory, you would almost believe he had actually forgotten what you looked like, the way he drank in the sight like it was his last meal. 

You couldn't help but smile at him, a coy little gesture that Spencer returned as soon as his eyes made it back onto your face. "Missed you," you whispered softly.

"You have no idea," he replied. 

Then his large hands slid up to your chest, one gently brushing your hair away over your shoulder, the other cupping one of your breasts in his palm. He massaged the soft skin gently while leaning forward to pepper your neck with kisses. You sighed into him contently, eyes closing upon the tender contact. His finger grazed over your nipple, making goosebumps spread over your arms like the fire did in your belly. A soft sound escaped you, not quite a whine, but not far from either. You felt Spencer smile against your skin, the kisses turning to little nips as he neared your collarbones. 

Your eyes shot open as you heard Spencer wince. "Spence?"

He shied away at the concern in your voice. "It's nothing," he assured. "Just, um, overdid it." He had leaned too far into you, the bruises on his ribs not quite allowing him to. "I'm fine, you're just, well," he raked his fingers through his hair and let his soft smile return, "well look at you, how could I not."

You tried not to worry, to let yourself melt back into the moment. "Well, let me help you, then," you purred, coming up off your knees so your chest was on his eye level. 

"Perfect…" Spencer mused, more to himself than anyone else, before he recommenced his sweet attack on your skin. Flicking his thumb over one nipple, he took the other one in his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. Your head almost fell back, but you wanted to enjoy the sight before you. Remembering exactly what you liked, Spencer's skilled hands and mouth worked over the soft skin of your breasts until you were a whining puddle in his arms, just how he liked you.

And now it wasn't Spencer that was eager, no, you had felt yourself grow wetter for him with every passing second, and the want and need of the last few days washed over you in waves of anticipation. Your hands instinctively went to the hem of his pyjama bottoms when he came up for air, and you ran your finger along the waistband teasingly. 

Spencer looked up at you dazedly, big puppy eyes glazed over with lust, a sweet smirk playing on his lips. You carefully slid off of him, helping him out of his pants and boxer briefs, careful not to hurt him. Your heart ached a little when you heard him hiss in pain and steady himself, but you reminded yourself that you both wanted this. Once his pants were off, you shimmied your own plaid pyjama shorts and panties down your legs, now sitting completely naked on the bed next to Spencer. 

"C'mere," Spencer reached out his hands for you to take, affection muffling his otherwise perfect diction. 

His broad hands positioned you back into his lap where you belonged. The kiss that followed was hungry. Hungrier than you had ever felt Spencer before. His hands were everywhere on your body, grabbing your hips, smoothing down your back, on your tits, you felt him everywhere, except where you needed him most. 

You whined into his mouth, "Spence, please." 

His eyes glinted with something akin to mischief, and his teasing words of "Aw, is my baby so eager?" would almost be convincing, if he wasn't hard and desperate himself right underneath you. So you moved your hips slightly, your folds dragging over his erection. That shut him up real quick.

"Cat got your tongue?" You purred, drinking in the feeling of his skin on yours once more. 

Spencer's long, dark lashes fanned out on his cheeks as he breathed heavily from the friction. The sight was from a movie, the prettiest boy you had ever seen, bruised up, but revelling in feeling your body. You wanted him, needed him.

You slowly lifted your hips, careful not to put too much of your weight on him, and let Spencer position himself at your opening. The anticipation in the air was sweet, almost stifling, you could already taste the sweet release. 

Spencer dragged his tip though your folds, spreading the wetness that had accumulated up to your clit, circling it a few times before going back to your entrance. 

"So wet for me, baby."

"I'll be gentle, yeah?" you checked with him. 

"Yeah, hm, sure," his eyes flickered up from where you two almost connected to your face, "god, i need you, please."

Who were you to deny? You sank down slowly, just the tip at first, and the stretch was already delicious enough to warrant the soft, whining sound leaving your lips. Spencer looked dizzy with it, patiently waiting on you while he steadied your hips. You sank further down on him. God, you had missed feeling him inside you. 

When you had taken all of him, you tried to check in on whether this position was comfortable for him, but instead you were pulled into another desperate kiss. His tongue was in your mouth in seconds, making you lightheaded with the eagerness Spencer poured into you. He moved his hips up, thrusting into you once, and it felt amazing, but he winced into the kiss.

"Babe, Spence," you halted the kiss, "let me do the work now, please," you gently pushed him back against the pillows, "let me take care of you, yeah?" 

He looked up at you straddling him, hair messy and cheeks red. "Yeah, yeah, sorry," he replied bashfully, his voice hoarse and deep with want.

You rolled your hips into his, soft but deep. His pretty lips, red from being kissed stupid, parted and he made a delicious sound that went right to your core. You continued to roll your hips, trying to get leverage to ride him, but not wanting to put pressure on his bruises.

"Here," Spencer positioned one of your hands on his chest and one on his shoulder. "And no, it doesn't hurt there," he replied to the silent question in your eyes. You believed him. 

With the new leverage points, you could ride his dick properly. The sensation was dizzying, feeling him so deep inside you. The drag of your clit against his skin with every bounce was delicious, making you moan into Spencer's neck. 

Spencer's hands were moving your hips along with you, squeezing and petting along with his own shallow breaths. He started attacking your neck with kisses again, open-mouthed and sloppy this time, leaving marks for you to discover in the morning, no doubt. 

The drag of him against your insides was maddening. The position gave you all the control and with just a bit of Spencer's help, you found the spot that made you go crazy every time his tip grazed it.

"That's it, that's it, oh god, keep going," the desperation is Spencer's voice set your core on fire. The way he said your name over and over sounded like a prayer, like a man starved. He moaned unabashedly when you sunk down on his entire length, looking at you like you personally cured all of his pain. 

"Spence, you feel so good," you practically whimpered, and Spencer nearly came right there and then. He held you closer, nearly all of you touching, like he couldn't get enough of you.

The way you moved together was perfect, a practised ease that came with knowing each other so well that you knew exactly what the other loved most.

"Fuck, baby, oh, I'm- I'm not gonna last much longer," Spencer said though laboured breaths as he snaked his arm between your bodies. 

You were already close, but when you felt Spencer's skilled fingers on your clit, you knew you were done for.

"Come with me?" Spencer spoke into your ear, planting more soft kisses on your jaw. 

Once again, who were you to deny him anything? With a loud moan from you and a stutter of Spencer's hips, you both came together, your release washing over you in white hot waves of pleasure, with Spencer buried deep inside of you. You rode out both your highs, seeing Spencer's eyes gloss over in real time once the satisfaction settled. 

He smiled his wide, dopey smile at you, the picture of contentment, an entirely different version of himself than the one before. You returned the smile, carefully draping yourself over his chest, completely spent.

"Hey," Spencer whispered into the quiet air, "I can't do it for you, now, but you'll have to go clean up, sweetheart." 

"Mmm," you bury your face in his neck, "I will, I will." You could hear the overflowing fondness in his laugh that followed.

"Hey," he said again, smaller this time, "thanks for taking care of me."

You languidly sat up, staring into his big, earnest eyes. Your fingers pushed his hair out of his eyes, revealing the cut above it. You leaned forward to kiss his forehead. "Was that an innuendo, Doctor Reid?" 

He burst out into an unexpected laugh, his eyes twinkling again, "maybe, maybe." 

<3

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

I am but a humble fanfic writer and i beg for your feedback guys :))))))) xxxxxxxx

[willieverseetheland]

a relationship with dexter morgan...

Dexter Morgan x reader relationship head-cannons and etc. sfw!

trying different layouts, kinda rocking with it.

Dexter Morgan who brings you little sweet treats after work (or rather, after a kill)

He is also known to give you a foot massage from time-to-time

And makes you breakfast in the morning, pancakes of course

He's always watching you, analyzing you, admiring you. Wondering how you do it, act so graceful, exist so human. You're so human to him, real. You feel things deeply, you love, you hate, and craziest of all; you love him. You ground him, keep him in touch with his humanity.

He's often considered himself empty, a shell of a human. However, you make him feel things. Something that deeply shocked him at first, but something he's grown to adore.

He's very protective of you, especially in public. He's not big on pda or even holding hands, but he'll keep you as close to him as possible. Keeping an eye out for any unsavory characters. He knows what kind of people are in this world, he really knows.

If you mention you like something once, he'll show up the next day with a lot of whatever it is. It can be annoying at times, like when you mentioned you like yogurt and Dexter showed up with a case of yoplait every time that you saw him for like a week, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

For being such a control freak, he's not all that controlling in his everyday life. He pretty much always lets you choose dinner, the movie, tv, the restaurant, etc. While he may be thinking how stupid something is on the inside, if you're happy, he's okay with it.

He loves watching you get ready for the day, especially when you do your makeup. He likes the ritual of it, it reminds him that everyone has one, and that he may not be as disconnected from humanity as he thought. He knows they're not exactly comparable, but it's the principle of it.

He's a great listener, he loves hearing you rant about your day, your idiot coworkers, all your simplistic little annoyances and day-to-day happenings. It takes his mind off his very complicated, fucked up life. Allows him to see into the world of the average, normal person.

He's always touching you when you sleep, his hand on your waist, face buried in your neck, legs intertwined with yours. It's likely because his subconscious is convinced that you're going to wake up one day and see him for what he truly is, then leave him.

...

Got inspired by one of my mutual’s recent post, idk why I never considered making short little head cannon posts and whatnot. I think it's cute! Hope y'all like it :)

nsfw version coming soon...

[lynxgriffin]

Deltarune Chapter 3 and 4 RANDOM THOUGHTS

Spoilers so it's going under the cut! This is just me gushing about the madness

Geez I have like 50 different things I want to do art for and I can't focus on any of them long enough to start, SOB

Was NOT expecting Susie to find out that Darkners are objects immediately upon starting up the chapter. I'm glad she took it as well as she did, though! Still think this may come up much much harder later.

Holy crap Tenna's designs and animations just hit like a truck LOL. It wasn't until much later that I was like "wait...this guy is not getting recruited to Castle Town, is he. There's no way those sprites will get integrated."

Disappointed we did not get a proper Susiezilla sequence, I wanted that!

All the banter of them sitting around playing Legend of Kris was adorable

Did not expect Lanino-Elnina-Rouxls Kaard DISASTER THROUPLE???

Lancer MY BOY

Geez all of the stuff where Kris was playing their solo adventure was just. SO unsettling.

"You didn't do Snowgrave in chapter 2? Well you're doing it here now lol"

"You were used up" UH OH!!!!

I managed to S-Rank both boards somehow and got to the Shadow Mantle boss but got my ass handed to me; I'll need to go back and try again later.

Totally called Toriel being in the prize capsule from the start

saxophone noise

Me at the end of the Tenna boss battle: Kris Knight is real? Well, not what I would've liked, but I'm sure it'll be--

Me five minutes later: I'M SORRY, WHOMST??????

But no for real the Knight design and demeanor is LEGIT scary, I'm so glad we got a proper really intimidating villain

But yeah absolutely got thrashed by the Knight as well SOB SOB

THAT ENDING THO??? AND THEN THE TRANSITION INTO THE NEXT CHAPTER?

Please give Susie MORE PANCAKES

Absolutely fascinated by the fact that the monster religion is also just. Like. The game legend. The implications

Cannot believe we had friggin Tom and Jerry-ass shenanigans in Noelle's house with the soul including Kris beating the crap out of us with a hockey stick

banging fists on the table SU-SELLE! SU-SELLE! SU-SELLE! SU-SELLE!

Asgore how did you get more awkward every chapter

The whole scene with Carol was just generally so, so DEEPLY UNCOMFORTABLE

Evil and intimidating deer by awesome lesbian couple indeed

Me earlier: Man Carol Holiday is going to get a pretty brutal death in Eldritchrune, I feel a little bad, it's probably going to feel unwarranted--

Me after chapter four: Hell naw this bitch gettin' what she deserves

I gotta say that I REALLY loved the music in this chapter, absolutely outstanding. I might like From Now On even more than Rude Buster

All in all in chapter four was SO cool, loved that we're taking everything seriously now, it felt like a real turning point

OKAY SO turns out THIS KINDA HAPPENED A BIT? But while my initial thought was Gerson being the Knight, I honesty like this better

IDK Gerson was just SO funny as a J.R.R. Tolkien-esque party member and I absolutely appreciated him being a mentor to Kris and especially Susie

Did NOT expect Susie making her own dark fountain before Noelle did!! But oh man all the differences in her version of the world that you can see compared to the usual one...

In any case I love Susie more and more every day if horrible things happen to her I will teleport to Toby Fox's house and push everything breakable off of his shelves

YOUR TAKING TOO LONG

Ralsei I am DEEPLY WORRIED about you my dude

He was looking so ragged this chapter and missed good chunks of Susie's dark world, too

I am extremely anxious about that critical part of the prophecy that we conveniently missed but that Susie saw, my weird kids need to be okay

Also uhhh??? Am I nuts or like? Did my half-human Susie crack theory get more evidence?? I was expecting just a solid debunking but if anything there's just more hints of it???? I'm kind of terrified???? Half-human Susie real????

Seriously I may just finally dive into the nightmare realm of making a theory video for it

HELLO NEO DARK FOUNTAIN ALREADY

HI TITAN ALREADY THAT WAS SICK AS HELL AND ALSO TERRIFYING

Seriously that Titan boss battle was crazy hard; it took me a lot of tries and it was a LONG fight every time

I have no solid thoughts on whether it's Carol Knight or Dess Knight; I'll have to ruminate on it more

It's Raining Here made real...

CANNOT BELIEVE WE ENDED THIS CHAPTER ON FRIGGIN KRIS MISERABLE IN BED WHILE SORIEL DISCO HAPPENS DOWNSTAIRS

Again: I want to draw but have no focus aaljsda

Also I got like two hours of sleep last night because my brain would not stop buzzing lol

Once again THIS GIF REMAINS MY ULTIMATE REACTION TO NEW DELTARUNE BYE: