#but it brings me joy to think he likes to do that

[theonottsbxtch]

FORGOTTEN BIRTHDAY | OP81

an: happy birthday @iimplicitt everyone go and wish her a happy birthday! this is a little piece for you that will make you sadder that you're not in a relationship with oscar but it's a gift from me to you, ily <3

wc: 3.5k

The morning sunlight seeped through the thin, linen curtains, casting soft patterns on the wall, and she stirred, blinking her eyes open as she felt the familiar warmth against her back. Oscar’s arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, his steady breathing a gentle rhythm against her neck. She could feel his lips brushing soft, lazy kisses along her shoulder, the way he always did when he thought she was still asleep.

For a moment, she simply lay there, soaking in the quiet closeness of it all. The fresh scent of Oscar’s cologne and the warmth of his body made her feel safe, cherished. She allowed herself to close her eyes again, smile lingering on her lips as he tightened his hold just slightly, burying his face into her hair, his fingers gently tracing patterns along her arm.

It was her birthday.

She’d woken up with a flutter of excitement, the way she always had since she was a little girl. There was something magical, something undeniably special about the feeling of a day that was just yours. And now, waking up like this, wrapped up in the warmth and the love of someone who’d stolen her heart—that feeling should’ve been even stronger.

But as the minutes ticked by and he continued to kiss her in that quiet, thoughtful way he did each morning, not a single word was said.

Maybe he’s just distracted, she thought, feeling the slight tug of disappointment. After all, the season was coming to an end, and she knew how focused he got, especially in the days before a race. Formula 1 demanded so much of him, and she respected that. He’d been there for her in ways she hadn’t even dared to hope for, bringing more joy and care into her life than she could have ever asked for.

But... not even a whisper of "happy birthday"? Not a hint, not a knowing look in his eyes?

She felt him shift behind her, his hand slipping up to brush a strand of hair from her cheek, his thumb tracing her jawline with that same tender familiarity. His lips pressed gently against her neck, a sleepy hum in his throat. He felt so close, so utterly devoted, and yet...

He’s just busy, she told herself, letting out a soft sigh. It’s probably the last thing on his mind.

She sighed softly, stretching in his arms, and he pulled her a little closer, his lips brushing her forehead in that sleepy, casual way of his. His eyes were still half-closed, hair tousled, but there was a lazy smile on his face as he woke up with her.

“Morning,” Oscar murmured, voice rough with sleep, his thumb tracing slow circles along her hip.

“Morning,” she whispered back, trying to keep her tone as normal as possible. She didn’t want him to sense that she’d been holding her breath, waiting for him to say… well, something. A small “Happy Birthday, love,” maybe, or even just a knowing smile, some hint that he remembered. But he hadn’t. And it was clear now that he wouldn’t.

“So,” he yawned, shifting his legs under the blankets, “today’s kinda busy. Lando and I have this thing at the sponsor’s studio. Some shoot for a promo video, I think. They’re calling it an ‘inside look’ at race prep or something, but really it’s just us standing around talking, I’m pretty sure.” He chuckled, rubbing his eyes. “They’ve got us doing all this media stuff lately.”

“Oh, yeah?” she replied, forcing herself to smile. “You’ll be a natural.” She reached up to run her fingers through his hair, hoping he’d look at her, maybe even catch her eye and give her a hint that he hadn’t forgotten after all.

But Oscar only nodded, giving her a sleepy grin as he leaned back, stretching his arms above his head. “And you? Got a day at the office, right?” he asked casually, as though it was any other day of the year. “What’s on your agenda?”

She took a breath, trying to keep her voice light. “Yep, just the usual. A couple meetings, and I’ll probably have to cover for someone at the desk. I’ll be out by five.”

He nodded, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Sounds like a good day. We’ll both be back around the same time, then.”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling faintly. “Guess so.”

She got out of bed, pulling her robe around herself and heading to the bathroom, where she stared at her reflection, trying to shove away the hollow feeling that was starting to settle in her chest. She should’ve been used to this by now, she told herself. Oscar’s schedule was demanding; he barely had time to stop and breathe some days, let alone keep track of something like a birthday. Besides, she knew he cared for her deeply—his warmth in the mornings, his texts at odd hours when he thought of her, all the small ways he showed her mattered so much more than one day of the year.

But as she brushed her teeth, tied her hair back, and headed into the wardrobe to pick out her work clothes, she couldn’t quite shake the disappointment. She wanted to laugh at herself for caring so much. It was just a birthday.

Yet the more she tried to pretend she was fine, the more her heart kept slipping. She threw on her blouse and slacks, fixing her makeup with hands that were just a little less steady than usual, and made her way back into the bedroom, where he was now scrolling through his phone, probably checking the texts from his manager.

“Have a good day, okay?” Oscar said as she slipped on her shoes. He gave her a small, warm smile as he leaned over, pressing one last kiss to her cheek, his hand resting on her shoulder as if to linger with her a moment longer.

“Yeah. You too,” she murmured, giving him a faint smile as she grabbed her bag, willing herself not to linger, not to let herself feel anything other than grateful for the morning they’d shared. She gave him one last glance, catching his gaze as he looked at her, that usual warmth in his eyes. And then she turned, heading out the door, whispering to herself that it didn’t matter. It wasn’t important.

The office was buzzing when she walked in. As soon as she stepped through the door, her coworkers greeted her with bright smiles, some even standing up from their desks to call out, "Happy birthday!" There was a small pile of gifts on her desk, wrapped in cheerful paper and bows, and a few balloons taped to her chair. She felt herself smiling genuinely for the first time that morning, warmth flooding her chest as she set her bag down.

“Oh my gosh, you guys,” she laughed, cheeks flushing as she picked up a card signed by everyone. “This is too much.”

“Nonsense!” her friend and desk-mate chimed in, appearing at her side with a cupcake topped with a single, brightly coloured candle. “You deserve all of this and more. We all know you make this place actually run.”

She chuckled, feeling the warmth and kindness radiating from the team. As she took in their gifts—a handmade scarf from the coworker who crocheted on her lunch breaks, a small box of her favourite teas, a lovely journal for her ever-growing stack of notes—she felt touched, genuinely happy. Her coworkers hadn’t forgotten; in fact, they’d gone out of their way to make her feel special.

But there was still that empty space in her chest. A quiet, lingering ache as she glanced at her phone, hoping to see a message pop up on her screen. Maybe Oscar would text her between shoots, or send her a voice message—just a quick “Happy birthday” or even a simple smiley face. Something that would tell her he’d thought of her.

Yet as the hours passed, her phone stayed stubbornly silent, aside from the usual work notifications and a few birthday messages from friends. She knew that he didn’t text much during the day, that his shoots and meetings usually stretched longer than he liked to admit. But part of her had hoped that, just today, he might make an exception.

At lunch, her friends surprised her with a small cake in the break room. They sang to her, a little off-key but with a lot of heart, and she found herself laughing along, feeling incredibly lucky to be surrounded by such warmth and care. She tried to push aside her thoughts of him, to keep her mind off the absence of his message. He’s busy, she told herself, taking a bite of cake as her friends chatted around her. It’s not a big deal.

Still, every time she felt her phone buzz in her bag, her heart leapt, just for a moment, and each time, she couldn’t help but feel the sting of disappointment as she realised it wasn’t Oscar. It was as if her heart was doing a balancing act, teetering between gratitude for the people around her and that quiet ache that her mind kept insisting wasn’t fair to feel.

As she stepped out of the office and into the cool evening air, she felt the weight of the day pressing down on her. She’d kept a brave face, laughed at all the right moments, and soaked up every bit of love her friends and coworkers had poured into her. But now, alone with her thoughts, she felt the ache returning, stronger than before. She wanted nothing more than to go home, slip into a hot bath, and just let herself feel it all—the disappointment, the loneliness, the hurt she’d been pretending wasn’t there.

As she walked up to her building, she noticed his car wasn’t parked out front. Somehow, that felt like a small blessing. She was grateful for a few quiet moments to herself, to feel everything she’d been holding back all day.

The apartment was dark and quiet when she stepped inside, the air still. She kicked off her shoes, leaving them haphazardly by the door, and shrugged her bag off her shoulder, not bothering to turn on any lights as she made her way down the hallway. She was so drained, and all she wanted was the familiar comfort of their room, a place where she could let her guard down completely.

When she pushed open the door to the bedroom, though, she stopped short.

There, spread across the bed, was a beautiful assortment of gifts wrapped in elegant, colourful paper, with a cluster of balloons tied to the foot of the bed. She blinked, her eyes taking in the soft glow of fairy lights that had been draped over the headboard. Each balloon had a photograph attached—moments from their time together, candid shots from races, vacations, cosy evenings at home. Her heart clenched at the sight, an overwhelming mix of disbelief and relief filling her chest.

And then, as if on cue, Oscar stepped out from the closet, a tiny cupcake in his hand, a single candle flickering on top. His face was lit by the candle’s glow, a quiet, tender smile on his lips as he looked at her, his eyes warm and full of a love that nearly undid her.

“Happy birthday,” he whispered, voice soft but full of so much feeling that it made her knees weak.

She stared at him, her eyes filling with tears as she let out a shaky laugh, feeling a rush of emotions she could barely contain. “I thought… I thought you forgot,” she managed, her voice breaking as she took a step toward him, her hands trembling. “I thought you were too busy, that… that you didn’t remember.”

Oscar’s face softened, and he closed the distance between them, setting the cupcake on the nightstand as he reached out to pull her into his arms. “Forget?” he murmured, holding her close, one hand coming up to stroke her hair as she let out a small, choked sob into his shoulder. “How could I ever forget your birthday? I’ve been planning this for weeks.”

She clung to him, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as she finally let the tears fall, letting herself feel everything she’d been holding back. He held her tightly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back, letting her release every ounce of doubt and hurt she’d felt throughout the day.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered between soft sobs. “I just… I thought maybe with everything going on, it slipped your mind. I didn’t want to feel that way, but I… I couldn’t help it.”

Oscar pulled back just enough to look at her, brushing away a tear from her cheek with his thumb, his gaze filled with understanding. “I get it,” he said gently. “I wanted it to be a surprise, to make it perfect. But if I’d known it would make you feel like this…” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there as he held her close. “I would’ve done it differently.”

She shook her head, a tearful laugh escaping her. “No, this is perfect. It’s… it’s everything. I just didn’t expect it, and I guess I didn’t realise how much I wanted it.”

He smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You deserve to feel special today. Every day, really. I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.”

She smiled up at him, feeling the weight on her chest finally lifting as she took in the warmth in his eyes, the quiet thoughtfulness of every detail around them. Oscar reached over, picked up the cupcake, and held it between them, nodding toward the candle.

“Make a wish,” he murmured.

She looked at him, her heart swelling as she realised that her wish had already come true. But still, she closed her eyes, letting herself make a small, quiet wish before blowing out the candle.

When she opened her eyes, he was still looking at her, his own gaze soft and full of a promise she could feel without words.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, her fingers tracing over the colourful wrapping paper, feeling almost shy with him watching her so intently. It was like every small, careful detail had been planned with her in mind, each gift waiting patiently for her to unwrap it.

The first package she reached for was a familiar shape—a shoebox. She unwrapped it slowly, her heart catching in her throat as she lifted the lid to reveal a pristine pair of black Dr. Martens. She laughed, a soft, delighted sound, running her fingers over the leather. “You remembered,” she murmured, looking up at him with a grateful smile. “I was saying just last week that mine were about ready to fall apart.”

“I know,” Oscar grinned, hands in his pockets as he watched her. “I was pretty sure you’d been trying to ignore the hole in the sole. Figured it was about time for an upgrade.”

She smiled, warmth spreading through her chest as she slipped the boots aside, reaching for the next gift. It was a neatly wrapped package, smaller and heavier, with an unmistakable shape. She tore away the paper, her breath catching when she saw the cover—the first book in her favourite series, one she’d read so many times that the copy on her shelf was practically falling apart. But as she opened the book, her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her fingers tracing over the author’s signature scrawled inside the cover, a small message addressed just to her. She flipped through the rest of the books in the series, each one signed with a personal note. “How… how did you manage this?”

Oscar sat down beside her, looking a little smug but mostly just pleased with her reaction. “You’ve talked about those books more times than I can count,” he said with a small shrug. “I figured I’d reach out to the author’s team, see if I could make it happen. Took a little convincing, but… worth it, I think.”

She looked up at him, eyes shining with gratitude and awe, feeling like her heart might just burst. “It’s… it’s perfect,” she said softly, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

He smiled, brushing a thumb over her hand as she picked up the final box, smaller and elegantly wrapped in deep blue paper. She carefully peeled it open, lifting the lid to find a delicate necklace nestled inside. It was simple and beautiful—a silver pendant with both of their initials engraved on it, entwined together in a tiny, subtle script. Her heart swelled as she held it up, running her fingers over the cool metal.

As she admired it, he reached up and pulled something out from under his shirt—a matching necklace, with the same delicate initials. The pendant hung just over his heart, a quiet, constant reminder of her that he must have been wearing all day.

Her chest tightened, and she felt a tear slip down her cheek as she took it all in, the thoughtfulness, the care he’d put into every detail. She reached over, cupping his face with trembling hands as her voice broke.

“You wore it all day,” she whispered, her heart so full she could barely speak.

Oscar smiled, reaching up to cover her hand with his. “Of course I did. You’re with me everywhere I go,” he murmured, his voice soft. “No matter how crazy the schedule, or how many days I’m away… I wanted you to know that you’re always with me.”

She melted, letting herself fall into his embrace, her head tucked under his chin as he held her close. She felt like everything she’d worried about, every bit of doubt that had crept in throughout the day, had simply vanished, replaced by a love so real and constant she didn’t know how she could have ever doubted it.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her cheek.

He kissed the top of her head, his fingers threading gently through her hair. “I love you, too,” he said, holding her tightly, as if he’d never let her go. “Happy birthday, love.”

She pulled back from his embrace just enough to look up at him, her eyes shining with warmth and gratitude. Oscar met her gaze, his hand lifting to brush a stray tear from her cheek, his fingers lingering softly on her skin. And then, without a word, he leaned in, closing the distance between them as his lips met hers in a slow, tender kiss.

It was soft at first, a gentle, lingering touch filled with all the emotion of the night. But then his hand slid up to the back of her neck, pulling her just a little closer, and the kiss deepened, becoming something more—a quiet, passionate promise that said everything words couldn’t. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as she poured every bit of her love and gratitude into that moment, feeling his warmth surround her, grounding her in a way that only he could.

When they finally pulled back, breathless but smiling, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, pressing one last soft kiss to her forehead. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Let me run you a bath. You’ve had a long day, and you deserve to relax.”

But she shook her head, her hand slipping into his as she gave him a gentle smile. “No, not now,” she whispered, and he paused, a look of confusion crossing his face.

“Are you sure?” he asked, tilting his head, his thumb brushing the back of her hand.

She smiled softly, tugging him gently toward the bed. “I just want to cuddle,” she said, her voice a quiet, warm confession.

Understanding dawned in his eyes, and his expression softened as he nodded, his lips curving into a smile. Oscar climbed into bed with her, pulling the covers over them both as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She snuggled into his chest, her head resting just over his heart, listening to its steady, comforting rhythm as his hands traced soft patterns along her back.

They lay together in the quiet, wrapped up in each other, their legs tangled and their breaths in sync. He held her with a gentle strength, his fingers weaving through her hair as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. It was perfect, this quiet intimacy, as they sank deeper into each other’s warmth, finding solace in the simple, tender closeness.

“I don’t need anything else,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his chest. “Just this.”

Oscar tightened his hold on her, his lips brushing her temple. “Then this is exactly what we’ll do,” he whispered.

the end.

[zigdirty]

By the time I got off work this year, I’d already seen that the election had been called. I already knew the results.

Normally I have the tradition of watching this spectacular film every Guy Fawkes Day, November 5th, so I can enjoy it all over again, but also do I am always aware of how easily fascism can take over.

The irony of this Election Day being on Guy Fawkes Day, and the stakes of said election, were not lost on me. Not in the slightest.

But having been unable to watch it before I went to work Tuesday, I planned to at least start it before the end of the day. That is, until I saw the news.

All I could hear in my head was the speech broadcast across the emergency channel:

Good evening, London. Allow me first to apologize for this interruption. I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of everyday routine, the security of the familiar, the tranquillity of repetition. I enjoy them as much as any bloke. But in the spirit of commemoration, whereby those important events of the past, usually associated with someone's death or the end of some awful bloody struggle, are celebrated with a nice holiday, I thought we could mark this November the fifth, a day that is sadly no longer remembered, by taking some time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat. There are, of course, those who do not want us to speak. I suspect even now, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression. And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well, certainly, there are those who are more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable. But again, truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease. They were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense. Fear got the best of you, and in your panic, you turned to the now high chancellor, Adam Sutler. He promised you order, he promised you peace, and all he demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent. Last night, I sought to end that silence. Last night, I destroyed the Old Bailey to remind this country of what it has forgotten. More than four hundred years ago, a great citizen wished to embed the fifth of November forever in our memory. His hope was to remind the world that fairness, justice, and freedom are more than words; they are perspectives. So if you've seen nothing, if the crimes of this government remain unknown to you, then I would suggest that you allow the fifth of November to pass unmarked. But if you see what I see, if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek, then I ask you to stand beside me, one year from tonight, outside the gates of Parliament, and together we shall give them a fifth of November that shall never, ever be forgot.

This has played on repeat in my mind since I learned of the election results, searing itself into my psyche.

We are now at that place. We are now the people to whom V was speaking in the movie.

I cannot bring myself to rewatch this marvel of live-action film. I do not believe it would bring me joy any longer.

We have no one else to blame but ourselves.

And we have a long road ahead of us out of hell.

V for Vendetta (2005)

[danikamariewrites]

Falling

Cassian x reader

Note: sorry for my absence, I’ve been busy and unmotivated the last weeks. I don’t like to talk about politics but I want you all to know that I’m very unhappy with the election and it’s upset me. I really have nothing else to say because quite frankly im speechless. Know that my blog is a safe space and you can reach out to me any time if you want to vent because I will vent right there with you.

On a slightly better note, this has motivated me to keep being creative. Writing and being in a creative space has truly kept me going over the last few years and I refuse to stop. Mainly because if I stop I think I’ll just give up. And I’m not fucking giving up because this has been the best distraction. Sorry for the long note but I just wanted to get that out there and know you’re not alone in your frustration. ❤️

Warnings: some angst

Cassian was exhausted. He knew he was when he looked into your bright eyes as you excitedly waited for him to pick you up to fly home and couldn’t bring himself to lift you.

His mind wasn’t in the right place to enjoy the closeness of you in his arms. You always deserved him at a hundred percent, especially when your life was in his hands. Not while he was still actively thinking about Devlon getting in his face about their disagreement.

Even now, only minutes away from home, Cassian was still clenching his jaw, ruminating about the words Devlon spat at him.

Cassian was pissed that Devlon ruined his day. He had big plans for you that included a dinner reservation and him finally telling you how he feels about you. Only took him two years to gain the courage to decide he would tell you how in love with you he is. And now he’s too in his head to even fathom saying “I’m in love with you y/n.”

Azriel flying next to him with you in his arms wasn’t helping his mood either. Every time he heard you and Az talk or laugh his jealousy grew. It was his own fault though.

Flying over the Sidra the House of Wind finally comes into view. The monstrous house on the cliff had relief flowing through Cassian. Almost home, Cassian tells himself over and over.

Looking over at you and Azriel he sees a smile bloom on your face as you look down at the glittering water, you point out the fish jumping from the surface, making ripples that you can see from way up in the sky. The sight of your joy eases Cassian’s anger.

A gust of wind hits them hard enough to knock Az and Cass off balance. Without your added weight Cassian has no problem balancing himself out, controlling his wings on instinct.

Your scream has him pivoting against the gust, whipping his head in time to see Az lose balance as you tumble from his arms.

Azriel tries to dive but the wind fights against his wings. Cassian wastes no time to dive for you. Tucking his wings in as tight as he possibly can, he free falls with his hands reaching out for you.

You don’t stop screaming until Cassian grabs on to you, pulling you flush to his chest. You cling to Cassian, wrapping your arms tight around his neck.

“I got you,” he murmurs in your ear. “I got you, baby, it’s okay.”

Without looking back at Azriel he flys hard for the House. Cassian should check on his brother, he feels guilty not doing so. But the love of his life just tumbled from his brother's arms and he couldn’t care less if Az was in the Sidra right now or behind him.

Landing on the balcony closest to the bedrooms Cassian readjusts you in his hold. He can feel you trembling as he rushes to get you in a comfortable place.

Cassian kicks your door hard, rushing over to your bed. Gently placing you down he pulls away to see you staring off, a blank look on your face and teeth digging into your bottom lip.

He backs away to get you a change of clothes until you grip his arms tighter, letting out a small whimper. “Don’t,” you plead. Cassian wraps you in his arms, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

The two of you sit like that for a long, long time. Once your trembling stops you slightly lean away from Cassian, shaking out your arms and rolling your neck.

His heart breaks at the sight of fear still lingering in your eyes. Cassian slowly brings his hands up to gently cup your face, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re ok, you’re safe. That’s all that matters.” You nod, molding yourself into Cassian’s body.

“Thank you for catching me.” You whisper. Cassian squeezes you tighter to his chest. “I’ll always catch you, y/n. Always.” The fierceness in his tone sends a chill down your spine.

You won’t let Cassian leave you, even long after the sun sets. The only time Cass left was to get you dinner and to change into his pajamas. Once you’re asleep Cassian can’t find it in himself to leave you.

Tomorrow, he decided. Cassian will tell you everything tomorrow.

[drewsarms]

𓍼 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜

𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི more dark/icky!rafe bc you guys seems to loveeee him. Heavily inspired by these two post!! post 1 post 2

warnings: I would like to say I do not condone abuse or domestic violence. do NOT try to clock me. This is all fantasy. You have been warned. This is very…sinister maybe disturbing for some so proceed and read with caution. mentions of ownership, branding, slapping, spitting, tear licking, corruption, manipulation, very slight mentions of blood, 18+ mdni!!

If you sat and thought about the situation that you were in now it may seem troubling. You found yourself always asking how you’d end up with Rafe. With his actions. The people from The Cut and Figure 8 asks the same things to themselves and among their peers. You were such a sweet girl (still are). Always helping out when needed. Always being at arms reach for anyone despite what the situation was but now…now it was different. Instead of being there for everyone else it was always Rafe. Rafe was always in the picture. The cold hard stares you’d recieve from people did bother you to an extent but then again you were happy. If the word happy could ever describe it. Being up under Rafe and always at his service was something you loved, something that you’d never thought would bring you so much joy.

Fortunate was the word to describe it. To describe your connection with Rafe. Many girls would have loved to be in your place, right? The busted lip. The bruising. The branding from his ring. The burn mark from his bike when you tried to leave him. The accusations of your mind slipping to places it shouldn’t have been. Does he really love me? Why is he doing this? Is this wrong? But to you, the markings made up for it. The markings were your answer. I mean, why would he put markings that people could see, that people would know who you belonged to if he didn’t truly love you?

You found yourself stumbling in the bathroom, almost teary eyed from how hard Rafe pulled your hair when you asked him a question. “Can I go cover these bruises up? People are staring.” That was all you asked. You didn’t think it would cause such a commotion. As you rubbed your bruises, remembering what happened the last time, you overheard girls whispering as you stared at yourself in the mirror fixing your makeup. Do you think she lets him do that to her? She was such a sweet girl before. You would’ve never thought something like that would happen to her. How could she stay with a man who beats her?

“Beats me?” You thought. No. It wasn’t “beating” it couldn’t have been. It was love. At least that’s what he told you when you’d cry for him to stop. That’s what you believed. You believed any and everything that came out of Rafe’s mouth.

Wiping away your tears, trying your best to seem like you handled the situation you found Rafe amongst his friends. Your grabbed gently at his bicep. “Can we please leave. There’s something I need to talk about.” That was it. That was the last thing you remembered to come out of your mouth coherently as Rafe dragged you out of the truck and into his room.

Marks covered your entire body as you laid on the bed. A faint taste of blood swirling in your mouth, mixed with Rafe’s spit that he watched trickle down your throat, as you looked up at him in fear. “How many fucking times have I told you not to ask me questions like that?” A harsh slap coming down against your cheek and then your swollen pussy. You whined, trying so hard to conceal your cries. You didn’t want him to think he was hurting you. You didn’t want him to know how bad this was affecting you. You wanted to be his good little girl and crying because you were in pain wasn’t going to show that. “I’m so-sorry daddy. I promise it won’t happen again!” Rafe’s mind was somewhere else as he positioned three fingers against your sopping hole. “You said that the last time didn’t you bun?” Rafe pushed three fingers inside you of you, releasing a stringed cry from your lips.

You were already a mess. Bruises forming on your skin from his fist and spit dripping off your face as Rafe rubbed it in, ruining your makeup more than your tears ever could. You pressed your legs together hoping he’d go easy. But that was the thing. Rafe never went easy. Especially when he was like this. He absolutely loved doing this to you, more than he’d like to admit and secretly you loved it too.“Open those legs or I’m gonna make it worse for you.” How much worse could this possibly get? How much farther could he take this? That was a question to an answer didn’t want to feel, you didn’t want to find out. Rafe added another finger as he watched you stretch out around him. He reached up and pinched your nipples. Your mind was completely blank at this point. The only feeling you had was the fuzziness coming from your stomach down to your feet and the harsh lingering feeling of his slaps all across your body. “This will fucking teach you, won’t it?” Rafe started to slide his fingers in and out of you faster making you soak his sheets. The feeling of regret and somewhat wavered thoughts ran across the frontal lobe of your brain. What was left of it anyway.

Was this luck? Was this what you considered to be fortunate? Your tears welled up in your eyes, coming down like hurricane rain. You began to hiccup and sniffle as you reached out for Rafe, hoping to feel that sense of comfort that always made you realize that he loved you, that this is what you wanted. Rafe cups your face as he stares blankly at your witless expression, eyes widened and brows raised. “Aw bunny. Are those tears? It feels good doesn’t it?” Rafe slowly licks your tears while moaning against your face. If you were in your right mind you’d tell him no, it didn’t feel good, but as corrupted as you were it felt like a high you couldn’t, didn’t, want to come down from. You shook your head earning another harsh slap, this time right against your mouth, making you bleed more promptly. “Answer me.” An elated screech came from your swollen lips as he pumped faster now adding a fourth finger. “Y-yes daddy! Please don’t stop!” And he wasn’t. Not until you were a shaking, panting, whining, pleading, eye rolling mess for him. Not until you realized that what he was doing to you, what he’d say to you, was the right thing. After all, Rafe was doing this because he loved you and those kisses to your forehead while he whispered how good you were for him proved it.

The love for him was unbearable. This is what love was. This was Rafe’s way of showing just how much you meant to him. How could you have ever questioned him?

Taglist 🏷️: @nemesyaaa @starkeysprincess @starkeyslove @venic-bxtch @archiveofvirtue @rafeyscurtainbangs @rafesangelita @fae-of-prey @bunnyrafe @wearemadeofstardust0 @starkeysbebe @shellxrls @erwinsvow

[koyagifs]

𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾

ʚɞ pairing : yunho x reader ʚɞ au : idol! | 9th member | established relationship ʚɞ genre : fluff ʚɞ word count : 1.040 words ʚɞ summary: after yunho came back from new york, he was eager to join you on a dance. ʚɞ what if! yunho and yn are dating

As he reached the door, he paused, taking in the faint rhythm vibrating through the hallway. Yunho had always loved watching you dance—it was mesmerizing how you could command the space with such energy and grace. He chuckled to himself, thinking about all the random little things he’d missed while he was away in New York: your habit of staying late in the practice room, your laughter that seemed to brighten the entire studio, and even the lighthearted banter you’d always shared.

Taking a deep breath, he gently opened the door and peeked in. There you were, completely absorbed in the music, moving with an intensity that made it seem like no one else existed in the room. He watched, mesmerized, a warm smile spreading across his face. He didn’t want to interrupt but couldn’t help himself.

“Someone’s been practicing extra hard while I was away, huh?” he teased, his voice soft but filled with excitement.

You jumped, clutching onto your chest as you turned to Yunho.

" jesus christ Yu," you gasped, laughter leaving his lip as he walked towards you.

Yunho laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he approached. “Sorry, sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. But the grin on his face told you he wasn’t really sorry at all.

You rolled your eyes, still catching your breath. “You almost gave me a heart attack,” you muttered, but there was a smile creeping onto your face. His presence, his laugh—it was so familiar and comforting after missing him for so long.

Yunho wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him as he placed a kiss on your lip. Melting in his arms, you returned the kiss, enjoying the warmth of him.

When you finally pulled back, he smiled softly, his gaze filled with that mixture of tenderness and mischief that only he could pull off. "You have no idea how much I missed this," he murmured, brushing a stray hair from your face.

You smiled, resting your forehead against his. "Maybe I do," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "You being gone was way too quiet."

Yunho chuckled, holding you a little closer. " so, what are you working on?"

Your eyes brighten with joy and Yunho could of sworn he fell even more in love with you when you rushed over towards the speaker where your phone was at. Yunho’s eyes lit up as he watched you, feeling his heart swell at how passionate you were. He loved seeing you like this—completely in your element, your excitement practically contagious.

" i was just dancing. Care to join?" you asked, pressing play on the playlist.

Yunho’s grin widened, and he didn’t hesitate for a second to rush to your side when he realized the song you decided to play.

Lost in the music and each other, you didn’t notice the door crack open, revealing curious faces peeking through. San, Wooyoung, and Hongjoong stood just outside, their expressions a mix of amusement and surprise as they watched you and Yunho dancing so closely, clearly in your own world.

Wooyoung nudged San with a smirk. “Look at those two, huh? They’re practically in their own movie.”

San chuckled, shaking his head. “Who knew Yunho had such moves? And here I thought he only danced like that on stage.”

Hongjoong smiled softly, crossing his arms as he continued to watch. He didn’t say anything, but there was a warmth in his eyes as he observed how happy you both seemed together.

Back inside, you and Yunho moved together effortlessly, his hand on your hip guiding you as you spun back to face him. The music softened, and for a moment, he looked at you with a tenderness that made your heart race.

As the song came to an end, Yunho cupped your face bringing you into a kiss. The world seemed to melt away as Yunho’s lips met yours, soft and warm, his hand gently cradling your face as he pulled you even closer. The lingering notes of the song faded, leaving only the quiet sound of your heartbeats echoing in the space between you. You melted into the kiss, feeling completely safe and grounded in his arms.

Your fingers grazed his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your touch, and he smiled against your lips, his thumb brushing your cheek. When you finally pulled back, both of you slightly breathless, Yunho’s eyes searched yours, a hint of awe in his gaze as if he, too, couldn’t quite believe the moment was real.

You both jumped from the cough that came from the door, and there stood your captain with Wooyung and San had smirking faces. Hongjoong held his phone up, showing your live as your face paled.

Your heart dropped as you realized what Hongjoong was showing you—the live stream was still running, and ATINY had witnessed every second of your intimate moment with Yunho. Heat rushed to your face as you took in the comments flooding the screen, filled with shocked emojis, heart eyes, and a storm of excited messages.

“Oops,” Yunho whispered, his cheeks turning pink as he scratched the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed but unable to hold back a sheepish grin.

Wooyoung leaned against the doorway, barely holding back his laughter. “Well, looks like you two just made ATINY’s day. Didn’t know we’d be giving them that kind of fan service!”

Hongjoong lowered his phone, stifling a chuckle as he raised an eyebrow at you both. “You know, if you’re going to turn dance practice into a romance special, you might want to remember when you’re live.”

San smirked, crossing his arms as he chimed in, “Yeah, I’d say that kiss has already gone viral by now.”

You buried your face in your hands, letting out a groan. Yunho had rush over to grab your phone, ending the live. “Oh my god… I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

Yunho wrapped an arm around your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze, his own laughter finally bubbling up. “Hey, maybe it’s not so bad,” he teased. “At least now everyone knows we make a pretty good team—in all ways.”

[glitterymarshmellowfem]

Hi Mister. You smoke?

Hello there, yes I do. Say, I've been watching you from the other room in this building and I've noticed you've chained smoke 4 cigarettes since you've been standing here. Is that your norm?

Not really, but it's all I can do waiting for my boyfriend who's late again.

I take it he does this often?

All The Fucking Time.

Oh that's a shame. A beautiful woman like you shouldn't be kept waiting. You deserve more respect.

I think so too, thank you.

I bet that's not all he does to dis you.

Oh you're right. God when we fuck, he's in and out so when he's been satisfied he goes off and plays his damn video games.

Oh that's terrible. A lovely woman like you should be worshipped. Here let me light that next cigarette.

Thank you and thank you for the affirmation. It's nice to find someone who agrees with me. You know for a much older man, you are awfully nice.

Well you look so uptight. I'm a masseur by trade, may I massage your shoulders and relax you?

Oh that would be nice. Mmmmm this feels good.

I must say you have nice soft skin. If you don't mind I'll work down your back and get the kinks out of your lower back.

Oh please do.

You have a trim body. Do you work out?

No I just smoke and drink coffee.

Well it's working for you. Your tummy has no fat and as I work my way up your chest, it's just skin and bones. That's it, just lean back into my body, rest your butt on my bent knee. You weigh so little princess, I could support you all day. You know my female clients get so uptight when I massage their breasts, they think I'm going to take advantage of them, but their. breasts need massaging too. But I can see you're not like that as I slip my hands under your top and massage your bare breasts. My massaging is good for you. Your hard nipples tell me that. BTW, my princess what's your name.

Uh, oh Penelope, but you can call me Penny.

Well Penny my lovely Princess, I can see you are totally relaxed and enjoying yourself as my hands are massaging your groin. Very good. Relax princess and spread your legs for Daddy. Open yourself up. Give yourself to Daddy. That's it let me in. Let my fingers in your pussy bring you to total joy. A joy you haven't felt in years as you reach new heights of pleasure. That's it ,let the waves of pleasure wash over your body and bring you to a euphoric supreme climax.

AAAIIIEEE! Oh Daddy that was wonderful. I haven't felt that good in years. Thank you, kiss, thank you kiss.

Well come princess we must go home I have much to show and delight you with, and since your boyfriend hasn't showed up yet....

What boyfriend?

[doublejango]

I am already seeing virtue signaling posts from people saying "I don't care what you believe or how you voted..."

That's great. I care. I care a lot. The outcome of this election effects me, but so much more than me. I care. It matters. And if it really doesn't matter to you? Good for you. If you are privileged enough, safe enough, and entitled enough to truly not care about how the election will impact other people... I can't even imagine what that must be like. Nice, I guess?

I spent most of last night and this morning crying.

I'm done with tears now, and have moved on to rage.

And you know what? I promise not to let it burn out. Because smiles and positivity may work for many of us, and I'm not going to lose mine either, I promise not to lose my queer joy--they can rip it from my cold dead hands, not to get too damn dramatic here--but I'm also not in the mood to start forgiving and smiling and welcoming Nazis into the bar.

So. I will hold onto anger. I've been tolerant and accepting long enough in life... and have learned something important about what causes the worst harm.

I have been gay bashed before. Violently. Blood. Broken bones. Lost teeth. And you know what the worst part of the recovery of all of that was, the part that did the most psychological and emotional damage? It wasn't the actual bashing itself. It wasn't even the memory of exactly what it felt like to have something swung full force into my face with extremely violent intent. It was the denial from my "friends" and family afterwards. The people who wanted to deny that it was a hate crime. The people who wanted me to shrug it off and not be upset about it. The people who loved to say oh well it wasn't that bad. You know what helped? Letting myself feel fury. Letting myself name the attack as hate. "It wasn't that bad," though, they said, asif it was their judgment to make--endless hours of dental procedures, pain, wounds that never fully healed, the trauma, the lost work, the new experience of vomiting blood with broken jaws and knocked out teeth. Because it wasn't that bad. And there was so much self-reproach, because I could have avoided it. I wasn't the intended target. He was swinging for a lesbian with me. When the attacker burst out of hiding he was swinging for the side of her head, her temple. I jumped in between them. Didn't think. It was an impulse. Protect the people you care about. So I took it to the face. And I grabbed him. I threw him, and fell doing it. I remember being on my knees in the mud. Seeing my teeth in the mud. Seeing my blood just. Everywhere. And knowing I needed to push back to my feet immediately because it might not be over.

We were lucky. It was over. He hadn't expected anyone to fight back. He ran.

But the people who claimed to love me didn't want to deal with the idea that it was a hate crime. They wanted it to be random and meaningless. That made their world a little safer, I guess. And their denial made my world colder. And my recovery lonelier. Harder. They put me down for "bringing it on myself." As if it would have been more virtuous to let this woman take that attack to her temple, as if I would have been more valid for standing by and watching it happen.

There are so many more stories I can tell you, but the lesson is almost invariably the same: the ugliest hurt is often the one caused by the people who just turn away when you identify what happened to you. The hurts that cut the deepest and last the longest often come from the people we thought we could trust, because they want you to just get over it, don't talk about it, admit it could have been worse, don't call it That.

The betrayal from people who are supposed to have your back? That deepens wounds, deepens trauma.

I won't be that person. I won't tell you to smile and turn the other cheek when someone shows you they hate you. Do whatever you need to do to survive--physically, emotionally, psychologically. Just don't give up, and don't let the cowards force you into feeling shame for not giving up and letting the world break you.

Never be ashamed to refuse to break.

Never let someone shame you for choosing strength. For drawing your line in the sand.

I wanted the "exciting" times of my life to be behind me. But they're not--so be it. I'm not going to tone myself down to be safer. I don't care about my own safety anymore. Any self-preservation drive broke a long time ago when it comes to homophobia. I promise to always be ready to fight. To be a queer menace to "polite" society. I promise to be out and loud and gay, to be a shield however I can for those who can't be out, who can't fight back, who can't even speak up because it wouldn't be safe for them to do so. They are valid, too. And I love them. And I will have their fucking backs. I promise to, in my real off-the-internet life, be someone who will always jump in and speak up if I see queer people being harassed or shamed--especially if they're young. I am older. I will fight for my baby gays. I will love them.

And I will never, never put anyone down for refusing to welcome Nazis into the bar. We don't look the other way and quietly tolerate them. Not here.

I may not be around much for the next few days. I need to handle my own shit. My own fury. My own grief. Because right now, there is so much grief.

But I won't be going anywhere.

I will fight to stay.

Whatever it takes.

I'm not giving up.

If I end up on my knees in the mud again, staring at my own blood and teeth, metaphorically or in fucking reality, so be it. I will get back up. And I will keep getting back up. I won't let go of the anger. The spite. And I definitely won't let go of my love for every queer person, the ones I know and the ones I don't, because that love is what will give me strength to get through this. Whatever comes next.

I may not have much sense of self-preservation. But goddamn, I will fight for you.

[finniestoncrane]

Teehee could you do headcanons about the Riddler's reactions to their partner being cockdrunk :) pretty please

Riddler Headcanons oh for SURE lmao, i mean one and done they're all getting a massive ego boost from it but i'm so certain they'd all use it to their advantage in different ways (though i left some out because they were giving similar vibes to others in my mind) 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: nsfw obviously, mentions of sex etc.

telltale

peepaw is not playing around here

the minute he realises you're slurring your words he is honing in

teasing you, touching your skin to watch your flesh tremble

making things worse for you, watching you squirm

knoiwng you don't have the mental capacity to stop him

knowing you don't want him to stop

it's a nice boost to know he's still got it all these years later

arkham

yeah he's not at all surprised because he is the greatest

and to be honest you should have been prepared for this

like why didn't you have an energy drink by the bed to chug

it's his fault you're like this, because he's a sexpert, duh

but get up and get back to work!!

robots need building, floors need sweeping, plans need planning

there's no rest for the wicked, and judging by your squirming...

you're still in quite a wicked mood, even after his amazing efforts

gotham

you can lie there in the little puddle you helped create

forget who you are, forget you're human even!

there's no need to get up and do anything because he's on it

bringing you water, a sugary snack, and a towel

he'll help you sit up, fluff the pillow behind you, and then lay down

gazing at you in awe, reaching to help you

as you struggle to hold the mug in your shaking hands

young justice

i think he'd go into panic mode immediately

are you not talking to him because he didn't do a good job?

have you died? why are you just laying there drooling in silence?

oh! because he did good!? wow... well...

how soon can you go again? because that was a neat ego boost

and it's got him primed and ready for another round

dano

you lay there in blissful post-orgasm glow for as long as you need

he's going to be next door in the bathroom gazing into the mirror

smiling widely at himself, pretending like he's doing a speech

thanking the audience for giving him this prestigious award

"best fuck ever" going to him? edward nashton?

he couldn't have done it without you, his wonderful partner

who he has just remembered is still laying naked in his bed

and who he is now rushing back to

zero year

so here's the thing: while you should be the one getting up

ruining the post-orgasm joy to get him a drink and a towel

he will take your inability to respond to his demands well

it's a compliment really, he fucked you so good that you're dumb

or at least dumber than you were before *hehe, ow, don't hit!*

unfortunately he will be bragging about this to everyone

literally anyone who will listen

so it's not much of a secret that you got drunk off his cock

[sequinsmile-x]

Favourite

Emily and Aaron try to make some time for themselves early one morning, but they are interrupted by their toddler.

-x-

Hi besties <3

This is a birthday fic for one of my best friends in the entire world. I hope you had a day as lovely as you are. I love you so much <3

This fic is based on the above gif, and is just our favourite idiots being soft and very much in love.

On a different note, today has been a rough day. And I am holding space for everyone who needs it. I'm sad and angry and numb, and writing has always been an outlet for me. I hope this brings distraction and a small amount of joy for anyone who needs it today <3

-x-

Warnings: mildly spicy, a lemon and herb on the Nando's spice scale.

Words: 2.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily hums contentedly as she wakes up, her expression melting into a smile as her senses return one by one. 

The first thing she registers is the smell of home. The smell of comfort and him washing over her as she snuggles deeper into the embrace she’d fallen asleep in hours ago, his chest against her back and his arm over her waist. Then she feels him, his hand tangled up in hers and pressed against her cheek, the soft kisses he is trailing from her shoulder to her neck. She realises that must be what’s woken her up. That he’s gently pulled her from sleep before their alarm or their kids wake them up. His lips against her bare skin where her t-shirt, his t-shirt, has slipped down from her shoulder.

She turns in his arms, smiling when he helps her, her eyes still closed as his hand drifts to her waist. She kisses him, tasting toothpaste, a sign he’d already snuck out of bed, over something that was just him. 

“No fair,” she grumbles, her voice thick with sleep still, rough with misuse as she kisses him again, this time tasting his smile, “You brushed your teeth first. My breath must suck.” 

She finally opens her eyes, greeted with the sight of him. He’s smiling at her, his dimples carved out deep in his cheeks as he pushes her hair away from her face, the hair tye she’d used to put it up the night before lost somewhere amongst the pillows. 

He’s not wearing a shirt, his skin bare and beautiful in the morning light of their bedroom. She can’t help but think of their first night together, how she’d led him into her apartment after their first date full of nervous kisses and easy conversation, and told him for the 100th time that she was sure she wanted this. That she wanted him. He’d been nervous - something about his touch that was hesitant until she asked him why, a part of her worried it was something to do with her. He’d assured her it wasn’t, his expression serious and his touch as sure as it had been all night as he admitted two things - one that he’d only ever had sex with Haley before, that he was worried he’d somehow let Emily down, and two that no one other than medical professionals had ever seen his scars. 

She’d told him in no uncertain terms that neither of those things mattered to her. That there was no way he could let her down in any way, and that his scars were already beautiful to her because they were made of him. They were proof he’d stitched himself back together bit by bit and had survived. She’d whispered that she had scars too, had pulled her dress over her head on in movement to show him the constellation of scar tissue left behind on her abdomen, his focus on where she’d been torn apart and sewn back together, not the new lingerie she’d bought with him in mind. He’d kissed her then, his fingers dancing over skin she still couldn’t feel even now, his touch making her tingle in more ways than one. 

There were moments, all these years later, when even though she was his wife, she’d still feel nothing less than honoured that he trusted her like this. That he’d sleep next to her and wander around their room without a shirt on, his smile soft as he explained either the shirt or the snuggling had to go in the summer and that the snuggling was non-negotiable.  

“Never,” he replies, kissing her again to prove a point, his hand shifting to her back, sneaking under the t-shirt she’s wearing as he moves so she’s half beneath him, another kiss stamped against her lips to prove his point as he settles over her. 

She chuckles, her smile wide as she turns her head to look at the alarm clock on her nightstand, his kiss catching her dimple as she registers the time, her eyebrow raised as she looks back at him, “I’m assuming you have good reason to wake me up this early on a Saturday when both our kids still seem to be asleep.” 

He hums against her cheek, the sound vibrating through her as it makes her shiver, his lips chasing hers as he kisses the corner of her mouth and then kisses her properly. 

“I was thinking,” he starts, kissing her again, his hand under her shirt encouraging her towards him, her back arching so her chest is pressed against his whilst his hand travels downwards, “We rarely have Saturday mornings to ourselves,” he kisses her again, his hand slipping below the hem of her pyjama pants, “And we have 30 minutes maximum before Thea is demanding your attention, and two hours before we have to leave for Jack’s soccer game,” he squeezes the globe of her ass, his smile close to a proud smirk as he draws a gasp from her, “And that we can do a lot with 30 minutes,” he pulls back to look at her, “Is that a good enough reason?” 

She tries to act stern for a moment, but it fails, her smile wide as she wraps her arms around his neck to pull him closer. She rubs her nose against his and kisses him, taking a moment to tug at his lower lip with her teeth when she pulls back. 

“It’s the best reason I can think of,” she says as she pulls him in, her hands in his hair as she holds him close as if there was anywhere else he’d rather be than settled between her thighs in their bed. She groans as she widens her legs, lets him get impossibly closer, and hooks one of them around his back, smiling when he moans as she rolls her hips against his. 

“Sweetheart,” he groans, his hand tight on her hip as she smiles up at him, her eyes full of love and want. He loved their life. Loved the chaos that came with having a two-year-old and an almost ten-year-old, but he loved this too. The place where it all started - quiet moments where it was just him and his wife, the woman he was lucky to love and be loved by in return. His hand slips below the waistline of her pyjama pants again, skimming the soft skin of her thighs, drawing another gasp from her, one of his favourite sounds in the world.

“We’re on a clock here, honey,” she says, using her heel to push his sweatpants down a little, desperation for him thrumming beneath her skin, “We both know-”

“Mama!”

She chuckles and closes her eyes, her grip on him loosening at the sound of their daughter’s voice through the closed bedroom doors and the baby monitor on the nightstand. Her hands shift from his hair to his cheeks, holding him in place as she kisses him softly. His hand moves to her waist, squeezing gently. 

“Turns out 30 minutes was more like 3,” he says, only half grumbling, his love for their little girl already shining in her eyes. 

She hums and kisses him, her hands still on his cheeks, “We’ll try again later after bedtime.”

“Mama!”

“Duty calls,” she says, chuckling at the impatience in Thea’s voice. She taps his cheek as he moves off of her. She briefly pouts at the loss of his warmth as she climbs out of bed, “I’ll go get little miss Thea,” she says, turning to look at him before she walks out of the room, “We can probably get a little more snuggling in at least before the day really starts.” 

He smiles and settles back onto his side of the bed, his smile turning into a smirk as he raises his eyebrows at her, “Snuggling with both my girls is my second favourite way to start the day.” 

She laughs and shakes her head at him, “Later,” she says again, her smile full of promise and mischief. 

She’s not surprised when she walks into the nursery to find Thea already halfway to climbing out of the crib, her tongue stuck out between her lips as she concentrates on the task at hand, “Hold it right there my little monkey.” 

Thea looks up at her, her smile wide, “Mama.” 

Emily is across the room in a second and hauling her into her arms, her quick reflexes only made better by being the parent of a toddler, “Morning baby,” she says, kissing her forehead, “I think we need to get you a big girl bed soon, huh?” 

“Big girl,” Thea repeats and Emily kisses her forehead again, shifting her so she’s on her hip and walks to the master bedroom.

“Guess who was trying to climb out of her crib again?” She says, smiling at her husband as she settles Thea onto the bed, her smile getting wider when the little girl makes a beeline for her father, all but throwing herself at him. 

“Oh it definitely couldn’t have been my little Thea,” he says, wrapping his arm around the toddler, kissing the top of her head as she snuggles against his side, her giggle loud as she shakes her head, playing along with him. 

“You two are lucky you’re cute,” Emily says, her fake irritation given away by her wide smile as she joins them in bed. 

Aaron leans down to speak to Thea, stage whispering so Emily can hear him, his voice louder than it usually was, “I think Mama is a little grumpy this morning.” 

Thea furrows her brows, and looks between both her parents, “Why, Mama?” 

Emily’s cut off before she can say anything, her husband smirking at her over their little girl’s head as he replies for her.

“Oh, she woke up earlier than usual.” 

She narrows her eyes at him, shaking her head before she looks down at Thea, “I’m okay, sweet girl,” she says, pushing her hair from her forehead, “But you know what would make me feel better?” She smiles when Thea shakes her head, and she makes a point of lying down, encouraging the little girl to lay down with her, “If we lay here and snuggle for a little while,” she looks up at Aaron who is still sitting up, his smile fond as he looks down at them both, “We need Daddy to join us though.” 

Thea turns to look at Aaron and stares at him with the stern expression she’d picked up from him, “Daddy lay down.” 

He suppresses a laugh, “Yes ma’am.” 

He lays down with them and tugs them both into his arms, Thea content to lay between both of her parents as they share a pillow, her head on Emily’s chest and her tiny fingers wrapped around the neckline of her shirt. Emily kisses her forehead before she rests her cheek on top of the little girl’s head, taking the opportunity to look up at her husband, his smile once again fond and full of love.

He can’t help but stare at them together, their matching smiles and matching eyes enough to bowl him over every time. Thea was Emily’s double through and through, a tiny version of his wife who he had to convince to eat breakfast most mornings when he cut her toast the wrong way. He couldn’t believe that he had this sometimes. That he had a second chance at building a family after everything that had happened. Something beautiful and precious found amongst Emily’s smile and the broken pieces of his life. 

“I was wrong before,” he says, stroking his knuckles down Thea’s cheek as she starts to fall asleep, Emily’s embrace her favourite place to be since she was a tiny newborn. The sound of her heartbeat the place the little girl found peace and comfort. It was the one thing she’d seemingly got from him apart from his facial expressions - his love for Emily and the comfort he found in her something he’d passed on to both Thea and Jack.

Emily hums, running her hand up and down Thea’s back, “About what?” 

“This is my favourite way to start the day,” he says, smiling when she looks up at him, “No offence.” 

She leans over Thea to kiss him, careful not to disturb the now sleeping toddler, “None taken,” she whispers against his lips, “It’s my favourite too.” 

[homerforsure]

TL;DR: it's not my ship, but they were done dirty

I always always always come back to that weird little reveal that when they were first floating the idea to bring Tommy back, they said it was to do a storyline with Eddie and it got switched to Buck because it was too weird or tricky to have them both break up with their LIs offscreen but only one actress could come back.

Because a stepping stone relationship makes perfect sense for Eddie. Something short and intense with angst and softness for him to get to this moment of letting himself feel joy and to taste how truly good it can be. He didn't need an endgame relationship right now. He did need to have his "first."

Buck didn't need that. Buck is absolutely ready for his forever and he has been for a while and giving him the "inviting Natalia to move in and then catching his own bad habit for once and backing out" would have been great.

But that didn't happen. Instead Eddie had to sit like a hot dog on one of those rolling warmers for a season while Buck started the queer dominos falling (and I admit this is a little bit from a Buddie endgame perspective because it doesn't feel to me like the show was deciding to explore the a character's sexuality just for exploratory purposes and I'm willing to admit I have a blind spot here.)

And honestly I think the fact that Oliver cares so much about Buck and telling this story well both for the character and everyone who sees himself in him and that Lou met that energy turned the storyline and the relationship into a more beautiful beginning than it would have been in the hands of other actors.

Which gave the show it's next problem. Because we can all see that Buck is ready for his forever love and you introduced a new love interest and then instead of sticking to a few episodes of awakening and moving on, I think they saw that people were starving for it and latched onto it and Tommy harder than they expected. So it's an easy thing to do to milk that for a little bit longer, but it was absolutely the wrong choice because people got invested in a way they wouldn't have if this had ended after the original number of episodes we expected.

And Buck and Tommy worked! I think you can nitpick relationship things if you weren't that into it and write a breakup narrative using those seeds, but their puzzle pieces absolutely fit together. So much so that they definitely had forever after potential that everyone could see and a lot of people were excited about and investing in and oops wait that wasn't the plan.

So what do you do? You either abandon the plan and embrace the accidental beauty that you discovered and let it ride or you write your way out of it. Give them some hurdles, some angst. Give them a tear-jerking breakup that respects what you built and the viewers who are invested in it and slowly work your way back to where you wanted to be.

They didn't write their way out of it.

And I so don't want to believe that after the work the actors put in and the viewer feedback that they were still viewing the relationship as a placeholder ready to be yeeted once Eddie's arc got back in position again, but I'm not sure what the alternatives are?

Either it's being talked about that this is the last season and so if they're really doing buddie then it's now or never? Or actually the internet is not a valid reflection of the viewership as a whole and someone from on high said the plug should be pulled?

Or the storyline was stumbled into and fumbled around from the beginning and never treated with as much care by the people in charge of it as it was by the people who loved it.

IDK it's just messy messy storytelling and I say that as someone who is not a multishipper but who does value a good story and a good narrative. They let the relationship go on for too long to end it so abruptly. If there was going to be a breakup, there was a better one to be had and it doesn't make me feel good that my preferred happy ending could come from one that breaks the heart of so many of my friends. And if it isn't in the service of a bigger, already in motion endgame, literally what the fuck?

[hbyrde36]

Oookay...

So, I'm still struggling with The Thing™

Not only processing the outcome of the election, but reevaluating my faith in humanity, not to mention the 51% of my fellow Americans who I gave FAR too much credit to thinking they'd do the right thing.

But the world spins on, even if (as a friend said to me today) it feels like it should all come to screeching halt so we can get a bereavement period, and now, a few days on, I want to try and get back to the stuff that brings me joy, like writing.

You know the drill. Send me an ask with the name of a fic and I'll write and share 3 sentences. Make help me write 💜

Midsummer Nights

- Summer camp fic (ch 3)

Fuggi Regal Fantasima

- Ghost Eddie fic (ch 2)

Caught In The Undertow

- Depressed Eddie (ch 7)

Forever After 💫

- Follow-up to It's Only Forever (formerly secret one-shot)

From Fuggi Regal Fantasima Ch 2:

Before he could bring himself to try a second time, the phone started to ring. Eddie prayed it was Robin calling to check in. Even knowing it was futile, he reached for the handset, stomping his feet angrily when his fingers touched nothing but air.   Goddamnit! Think, Munson, think!  What had been different last night when he’d managed to touch Steve for almost a full minute?  Well, he’d been annoyed at first, then a little turned on if he was honest. Obviously his concern for Steve’s well-being had taken center stage once he’d gotten a look at how badly hurt he still was, but wounded or not a shirtless Steve Harrington was a fucking sight to see. Eddie would challenge anyone—gay, straight, or otherwise—to stand in his presence and be unaffected. But surely horny ghost magic could not possibly be a thing. No, he’d been worried. Like, really fucking worried. The same way he felt moments ago when he couldn’t get Steve to wake. He hadn’t thought about it, he’d just acted.

No pressure tags 💜 @penny00dreadful @pearynice @steddiecameraroll @devondespresso @dreamwatch

@griefabyss69 @eriquin @sourw0lfs @thefreakandthehair @sidekick-hero

[sturnstars5]

i love you, i’m sorry-matt sturniolo

you and matt swore you were done, but are you?

warnings: fluff, swearing, happy ending

*there is a flashback in the story it’s in blue!*

empty. emptiness was what you felt. it had been two weeks since you left the love of your life, matt. you try to tell yourself, “well, it was his fault” or “i’ll be better off without him, it’ll just take time”, but nothing worked. you missed him.

you sat on your couch, something you had been doing more than usual lately, and stared outside through the window. you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything other than overthink. you would replay the moments of you and matt’s breakup argument in your mind, like it was a movie on loop 24/7. and just when you would feel a sliver of joy, the movie would start again, leaving you to drown in self pity.

it was getting late, so you picked yourself up off of the couch and laid down in bed, staring at the ceiling. sleep wasn’t exactly on your side.

it was about 1:30 am, and you were still awake when you heard your front door creak open.

what the fuck?

you sat straight up and froze, paralyzed in fear, not knowing what to to next. normally, matt would take control and go see what was happening, but he wasn’t there. he was gone.

you hear the persons foot steps get louder and louder until you hear them stop right in front of your bedroom door.

the door opened slowly, revealing a puffy eyed, sad looking matt.

he looked awful to say the least, he looked like he hadn’t eaten in days. his face was all swollen, his eyes bloodshot with dark bags under them. his face was glistening with tears, and his nose was runny.

“matt,” you say.

“i know, i should’ve called, im sorry.”

“you almost gave me a heart attack! do you know what time it is?”

“yes, i know, okay? i said im sorry.”

“why are you here matt, i thought we were over.”

“i know that’s what we said, but i cant stop thinking about you, about us.”

“matt,”

“i know, y/n, i know what i did was wrong. going to that party was a whole wrong decision in itself. but i still love you, y/n.”

“but matt, you pinky swore you wouldn’t cheat, and you broke it! how am i supposed to trust you now?”

“i don’t know, i just hope you can find it in your heart to give me one more chance.”

you think back to the night you found out about the party…

1:00 am, 2:15 am, 3:40 am, matt still wasn’t home. he said he was filming with his brothers, and you believed him. you called him, and he didn’t answer,m. you then called nick and chris, and they didn’t answer either. you give up, just telling yourself that their phones died, and you go scroll on instagram in your bed. nick posted a picture of himself and chris at a party.

where was matt?

you look harder, only to see matt’s lips pressed against another girl. her hands threading through his soft brown hair. matt was yours, so why was he with her?

matt arrived home, drunk, stumbling lazily into your shared bedroom.

“hey baby.” he says with a smirk.

“don’t call me that, matthew.”

“what the fuck is your deal, y/n?”

“this!” you say, throwing your phone in his face. you’re zoomed in on him and the other girl, matt looking at the photo. even his drunken state cant cover up the guilt and regret in his mind.

“who’s that?” he says, lying.

“that’s you, matt! who else would it be? you know what you did matt, and i know too. i’m not as dumb as you think i am.”

“it was just one kiss, so what? it was a party, and we were needy and drunk.”

“have you lost your fucking mind, matt?

“no i haven’t, but clearly you have, bitch!”

“i’m not gonna be talked to like this by my own boyfriend, so get out.”

“what?”

“i said, get. out. matt. we’re done.”

“come on, don’t you think you’re being overdramatic?”

“get out! now!”

“y/n?” you hear matt say softly.

you snap out of your memory, taking a second to focus back on reality.

“listen, y/n, i’m not asking for you to let your guard down again and take me back, i just guess i want you to know that i love you, and that im sorry.”

matt stares at you, his face full of desperation and vulnerability, and most of all, regret. a single tear rolls down his face, dropping on the floor as it falls off.

“do you promise to be loyal, matt?”

“yes, of course i do. i wont screw it up this time.”

“i’m serious matt, i cant take that again. i cant go through that again.”

“i promise.”

“okay then.”

“so, what now?” matt asks.

“do you wanna, maybe try again?” you ask softly.

“yes. i swear i wont fuck it all up this time.” matt replies.

you and matt hug, and for the first time in a while, you feel genuinely happy and loved.

“i love you, y/n.”

“i love you too matt.”

kind of a rushed fic but wtv!!

[rapunzellovesbooks]

The way I just want to hug Luke Newton and apologize on behalf of the entire Polin fandom for the shit he had to go through over a f*** picture taken without his consent. Like, I get it was the crazies, but still. Being part of the Taylor Swift fandom and seeing how she disappeared for a damn year over a leaked video taken without her consent and taken out of context villainising her... I know it must have hurt. And we can say it was months ago and that he knows who his true fans are, but still, that stuff would affect anyone, specially someone as sensitive as he is. I usually mind my own business and do not ship real people, heck, I usually do not even go online and "protect" celebrities. I tend to just focus on the happy and celebrate the characters they play but something about that June 13th and the look on his face... it haunts me to this day. And I just feel very very bad for him still.

I am deeply aware of the fact that I know nothing about his life, not really. I only know about his feelings for Polin and Nicola, because he has spoken about them. I have access to the same amount of information as the rest of the world, the pictures and videos of their WT and behind the scenes, the interviews he has done. I do not know anyone in his life and I should not have to. Neither do I know Nicola. And hey, maybe it never happens. Maybe they are happy with someone else (I doubt it, but this is just a feeling I have) and their relationship remains unique and the millions of questions we have never get answered. My point is, I got into this fandom because seeing their bond brought me joy. I don´t think them having other people in their lives diminishes that, which is why the hate he got over one picture never sat right with me. I do not get how it affects someone´s viewing experience of a show. I do not understand why we are so focused on labelling people´s relationships, as if it is as easy as saying a pencil is pink or green. It makes me happy seeing their videos and waiting for crumbs. I have fun hoping that what I truly see as more than platonic feelings will come to fruition.

I write this because the world is in shambles right now. And the last thing anyone needs is to add more negativity to it. So, I hope that we can, in the Lukola fandom, be kind and focus on the good. I do not give a shit about paparazzi photos or whatever the "adjacents" or however you want to call them do. In fact, I have not once looked at A´s or JD´s SM, nor do I want to. They are human beings, but not the human beings I care about. Even if they are involved in Luke and Nic´s lives, I will never send them hate or bad mouth them. I have no idea what they are to them. All I know is what L and N have said about each other. And it has always been good. So, that is where I will be.

And, yes, I truly believe they will be together. And I will be happy with anything that suggests it so, cause this is supposed to be fun and joyful. I, unlike other people, do not label people as gf or bf UNLESS it comes directly from the people involved. And if anyone ever confirms or launches anything, I will still be here. Cause that is what shipping is. Not hate, not negativity, not putting other people down, not invading someone´s privacy, not thinking that a moment in time is forever (people break up all the time, there is no way to know if someone is still with someone if there was never a "launch" or whatever you want to call it).

It would make both Luke and Nicola sad to see that a connection that is supposed to bring people joy is putting people against each other. I know we were so well fed with content over so many months that now we hold onto every detail we have not dissected yet. I get it. I also miss them. But that is the way it is supposed to be. We are not supposed to know everything. We are just supposed to be grateful and happy for when something good related to them happens. That is all and that is my hope for this fandom.

Spread joy and leave the rest out of it. Spiralling only makes people dizzy. Let us "get some vision, bro" like Luke said.

Thank you for reading and, remember, be kind to one another.

[bam-bi-buck]

911 8x06 SPOILERS

I was looking for my phone so I came to my moms room at 8:01 and my mama said “his wife took his mom” and I was like oh dang and was then it was an urn 🙃

When he dropped the urn my mama went “there goes your fortune… and your mama” lmao

Eddie really put this priest through the ringer, his expressions: ↘️↖️↗️↔️

Your son, your best friend hmmm?

You deserve forgiveness Eddie 😭 promise

Madney second baby!!!

Did they fix the “mama” from Jee? It sounds better than the sneak peek I think

Buck is such an awkward duckling

I love you

Some Himbo? I know where this is going

“Abby Clark”

My mama “WHAT!!? i-i-ie, that’s not something you want in common”

“Like a root canal with lawyers” 🤣

I’m literally traumatized

Just his guts 🤢

“I’m dying and this shirt is ruined”

Mama “that’s what you’re worried about?”

I wonder how many guys

“She didn’t bring her business to work” glances at Maddie “Unlike some other people” Josh 🤣

I know you tell Maddie everything too, don’t even

Maddie is so confused by Josh’s speech 🤣

I get what Josh is trying to say but there’s a difference between being in the closet and getting engaged to someone knowing you’re not into them

Chim 😭

Was it worth it the last time - damn Maddie

Maddie take off your jewelry!

That look on Maddie’s face - “omgod she’s pregnant”

My mama “how do you know!?”

“Did you not see the look on her face?”

Me glancing up from the floor to see her scrolling on her phone

“No”

Me “Hmmm”

Oooh the priest was behind Eddie in line

“Why did you denied yourself the juice”

I love you Father Brian

I am loving this discussion between Eddie and Father Brian

We can’t take care of others if we don’t first take care of ourselves

That little look back 🤣

My mama “Jacks in the hole!”

Aww these brothers 😭

Chim wants another baby 🥺

Buck, you’ve been dating six months, why are you asking him to move in 😭

Here’s the thing Bucks been my boy since 1x01 so I’m really sad that what he said looks like it’s gonna stick with him 😭

Ngl it was a jerk move for Tommy to say it so definitive like that, Bucks definitely gonna internalize it

(Also movies were not good luck for them huh?)

Chim & Maddie 🥺

I love them

I love them being so open and honest with each other

They’re gonna have another baby 🥹

Rip mustache - you made things funny 🫡

Love the dance (mom had to tell me it was a reference to risky business lol, will prob look up that scene on YT later lol)

Eddie feeling joy!!! 🥹

Buck going to Eddie 🥺

Also mom could not get over Eddie not putting on pants

I was like “Buck’s probably seen everything already taking care of him after the shooting”

And she was like “would you open the door to (friend) in your bra and undies”

And I was like “nooo but I’ve never take care of (friend) the way Buck has sooo”

Also (friend) and I are not whatever Buck & Eddie are lol cuz they are not typical besties (they love each other 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨) (& I don’t get out enough to find a 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩)

Anyways! What an eventful episode!!!

Can’t wait for next week!!! 👀

[hermesserpent-stuff]

caged spade spoilers

Remy gets a silly idea in his head. His cats used to nip at each other when play fighting. He knows that Creed nips him at times in fights and wonders how the man would react to being bitten back. Creed had been rather quiet in the two days following Henri's visit and Remy is having a hard time figuring out how to make it better. Maybe this would help?

When Creed enters his cell Remy pounces, knocking the man over only because Creed has not been ready for him. He lightly bites with a small chuff, rocking backwards to watch the reaction.

Creed twitches and then makes a chittering noise and tackles Remy back. Remy wiggles his leg to make room to flip the man. He leaps away and smiles a smile full of teeth. Creed leaps back towards him and Remy darts away and flips over Creed, bouncing on the balls of his feet to keep up his speed and mobility. Creed chirps and twists around. He gets Remy down and nips at his arms. Remy twists about, nips back, and then slips out. The teen laughs and bounces around with another swipe. He can feel Creed’s joy and excitement. 

Creed catches him mid-flip over the feral’s head and then he is pinned to the floor. He shows his neck in submission and is given a small bite. 

“We good?”

He asks, eyes searching Creed’s face. He does not want his feral upset with him. He relies on Creed. Creed chuffs and settles on Remy’s chest.

“Just… Your brother showing up is making me think about things. What… What other things do you need? I havent been taking good enough care of you.”

The tone is worried and Remy relaxes. He shifts a bit so he can pat Creed’s head.

“I like the sweets. I could do with better food. The slops not that tasty. Mais… Im… I'm okay. This isnt any worse than some of the missions that Ive been on. Well… the food’s worse.”

Remy ends with a laugh. Creed hums.

“Ill bring you food. And better blankets. You're always talking about being cold.’

“And more books?”

He has to ask and Creed nods. 

“More books. Give me a list. I dont read much.”

“Non? Ah, Ill keep readin’ to you then, expand your horizons mon minou.”

“Sounds good.”

Creed grins and slowly rises, the link warm with positive emotions. Remy smiles and sits up. Success. He had been successful.

[duchess-of-mandalore]

Do you have any thoughts on what Satine and Obi-Wan's lives and/or the galaxy at large would have looked like if she'd survived the events of The Lawless?

Oh man, this premise has an infinite number of answers depending on where you go with it. But I think I can give some general principles.

Like ... for example, Satine survives The Lawless but Order 66 is subverted. Actually, I wrote a fic about that (Tethers of Inconvenience), where Satine pursues an arranged marriage with a senator from Kuat (Giddean Danu, a character in the RotS deleted scenes) who would be able to help her rebuild and protect Mandalore, which she finds difficult to do on her own since she humiliated Palpatine and the Senate in TCW Season 2.

But more generally, if she survives The Lawless, I think Obi-Wan takes her back to Coruscant and she lives with Padme. She begs the Senate and Jedi to assist in dealing with the mess on Mandalore. I think that Bo's able to take the planet back, and she and/or Korkie lead since her brainless, idiot, fake-news-believing people are still convinced that she killed Pre Vizsla with her own hands and caused the downfall of their city.

Then, let's say that Order 66 does happen. You've got two diverging roads: 1) Obi-Wan is able to find her and bring her to Tatooine with him, in which case they get to raise Luke together and have a kind of strangely (im)perfect happily ever after living a quiet life neither one of them had before (wonderfully explored in @mg024's Two New Hopes) ...

Or 2) He can't get to her and has to leave her when he goes into hiding, like in @the-obiwan-for-me's Krennictine AU. This has a similar premise to my Marriage AU but with Orson Krennic. In both our AUs, I think we're of the same mind that Satine never loses her personal idealism, but she becomes much more practically minded. I think the run-in with Maul proves to her that "Even extremists can be reasoned with" is much, much too hopeful. I think she's always prepared to sacrifice her personal happiness for her people if need-be, but there's always that piece of her that's longing for her happy ending.

Imperial-era Satine is fascinating because she's the one who characterized the idealism of the Republic but who was really spared suffering by dying before the rise of the Empire. Personally, I think that Palpatine would take very great joy in trying to smash her like a bug once he has no guardrails, given that she was one of the only people who publicly stood against him during the Clone War. I mean ... we kind of forget that after the Republic and the CIS, the largest political entity at play in the Clone War was the Council of Neutral Systems, led by Satine. She's a symbol of the Republic era and she wouldn't go quietly into the night once the man she's always despised proclaims himself Emperor.

I think Palpatine would immediately try to take over Mandalore (canonically, he did within the first year of his reign because he was still using a clone trooper army). In a SatineLives AU, whether he immediately succeeds would probably rest on whether she's willing to negotiate for her people's freedoms (like Bo did with Gideon in The Mandalorian), but even if she did, Palpatine would probably just renege on any agreement they had.

In general though, I lean more toward her giving up any claim to the throne permanently because she thinks Bo (and a Korkie hardened by both The Lawless and the rise of the Empire) can meet Mandalore's needs more than she can.

And if that's the case ... if she has no Mandalore and no Obi-Wan ... I could see her doing something like creating a relief organization that essentially goes from planet to planet cleaning up the effects of the Empire and then eventually becoming a secret organization focusing on saving and rehabilitating injured rebels. It's her way of maintaining her pacifistic ideals in a world where she no longer has the ability to remain fully neutral.

If anyone has any thoughts on these ideas or others of your own, I'd love to hear them!