#from that kids show that i watched while knowing that it is not made to appeal to me at all

[lexirosewrites]

Omega Steve is enamored with Cringe Fail Alpha Eddie and everyone in his life knows it and doesn't understand why.

He's watching Eddie with heart eyes in their one shared class, sighing longingly as Eddie, bites the skin off around his nails and eats it while he ignores the teacher and plans his campaign. He's ignoring his friends' attempts to draw his attention when Eddie gets up on the table to give his semi-regular lunch table rants, almost slipping when he steps in someone's sandwich.

He is hands down the most popular Omega in the school even after he ditches his old friend and becomes Pack Omega to a bunch of puppies and band nerd Robin Buckley. He gets a stupid amount of courting gifts and never says yes to anybody, even a good amount of Betas have tried for his hand. The only Alpha that's never offered is Eddie Munson, and it makes Steve feel crazy.

And Steve knows he could just go over there and ask Eddie if he would be interested in courting, but he wants to be wood! He knows it's silly to way for the Alpha to make an offer but Steve is a romantic at heart and he wants to be wanted.

When Eddie starts dealing in his second senior year and Steve's first, Steve sees this as his chance to finally get close to Eddie organically and flirt a little to show Eddie he's interested. That he only smokes when someone buys for him is irrelevant. He'll buy every day if it means Eddie finally notices him. Robin says he's being a dingus. Steve insists he's a genius.

And so he goes to meet Eddie in the woods. To the average outsider, Eddie's hair is all frizzed out and he's probably worn the same pair of jeans every day this week and is overall a little bit of a rat. Steve Vision, however, only sees an extremely handsome, rugged Alpha seemingly waiting for him in the woods.

"Ah, King Steve. To what do I owe the honor?" It's probably meant as a dig, but it makes Steve preen a little anyway.

"Heard you were dealing now. Couldn't miss my chance to buy from the infamous Eddie Munson." Steve replies as he sits, leaning his head on his palm so he can look up at him from under his lashes. Laying it on a little thick? Maybe. But the way Eddie blushes is worth the cringy move.

With an in, Steve slowly starts inserting himself into Eddie's life more and more. He buys at least once a week, flirting all the while. Eventually, he asks if Eddie would like to meet his kids.

"They love that game, the dungeons one, and I think it would be fun if they all got to play while you ran the plays or whatever."

"Stevie, Stevie, Stevie. I know you know what it's called, but hell yeah lets do it! I'm dying to test my skills on some fresh players."

And of course, the kids love him. Well, Max is less than impressed and while Erica recognized him as an adequate DM, she is firm in her belief that Steve could do better. She's been insistent for the last year that he should be looking for a "real Fabio type" and Eddie Munson doesn't really fit the bill.

The real win of the night, however, is that Eddie brings so much stuff directly from his house that carries his scent. He still wears his scent patch like they all have to in school, which is disappointing, but his notes and books carry a distinct smokey, wet earth smell that nearly makes Steve swoon. He didn't get to see Eddie's reaction to walking into his house, another disappointment, but he just knows they're compatible.

After that, Steve gets himself an invite to Hellfire to watch. He loves seeing Eddie in his element, smiling along when Eddie crows with victory when someone in the party dies because of their own hubris. He stays and hangs out while Eddie cleans up chatting away about their days.

But for as much as Steve puts out all the right signals, and as much as Eddie seems to be flirting back, he hasn't made even a hit of a movement toward courtship. Steve doesn't want to give up, but he's starting to resign himself to the idea that he's just going to have to ask Eddie out himself.

Then one day while Steve is loitering around after Hellfire, an Omega cheerleader walks through the door asking for Eddie. She'd been sent this way by Chrissy Cunningham for some kind of anxiety medication since her mom wouldn't let her get a prescription. Steve's not thrilled by the interruption and is glaring daggers at the poor girl, but Eddie doesn't notice. No, Eddie is too busy breaking Steve's heart.

Eddie is doing all the same things he's done with Steve. All the things that gave Steve hope that Eddie was interested despite his lack of courting attempts. He's leaning in, teasing, hiding behind his hair at the slightest bit of attention. Apparently, those weren't reactions to Steve. That's just how Eddie reacts to any available Omega who looks his way.

Suddenly mortified, Steve jumps off the table he had been so happily perched on not five minutes ago. He grunts out some half-assed excuse and bolts for the door, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off the humiliating tears.

From then on, he avoids Eddie as much as he can. No more weekly buying appointments. No more sitting in on Hellfire nights. He can't avoid him completely with the kids in the mix, but he keeps his distance as much as possible, too embarrassed and heartbroken to reach back out. He doesn't drop, not with Robin being such a stable Alpha figure in his life, but everyone can tell he's in a funk.

Eddie, meanwhile, has been as enamored with Steve as every other Alpha in Hawkins for years but never figured he would ever look his way in a million years.

When the Omega started appearing in his life, it felt a little like an episode of the Twilight Zone. Like he would wake up and it would all be some crazy dream induced by years of unfulfilled pining.

But Steve never disappeared and Eddie never woke up. Eddie still wasn't convinced that Steve would ever entertain the idea of courtship with him, so he simply didn't put himself in a position to be rejected, no matter what the Corroded Coffin boys said about Steve "blatantly and obviously begging you to court him, dude."

So on and on it went. The more time went on the more Eddie's instincts screamed that the Omega was his and the more Eddie forced himself not to think about it until all of a sudden Steve was just...gone.

Not gone gone of course. He sees him in the hallways and every now and then when Steve comes to pick the kids up from group hangouts that used to involve Steve on default. Robin also seems pissed at him which is its own thing, but Eddie would be lying if he said her glare didn't make him nervous.

He doesn't know what happened, but what he does know is that his chest hurts almost permanently now. He misses Steve like crazy and is determined to make them talk about whatever it is he did to make Steve avoid him.

Now if only he could get him alone...

------

Ran out of steam at the end there but in my mind Steve keeps avoiding Eddie with the help of Robin, Max, and Erica while Dustin, El, Will, and Lucas help Eddie. Mike would like for them to never get together, please and thank you.

After a couple of months of successfully avoiding Eddie, Steve decides to take up a beta's offer for a date which makes Eddie more jealous than he ever thought was possible. He's absolutely seething, even if he knows it's irrational to be that mad about an Omega he never had any claim over.

He ends up using the kids to break into Steve's house while he's out on the date to set up a competing date. He's all puffed up and ready to posture against Steve's date when he drops Steve off but instead, Steve walks up the driveway alone, looking defeated.

They argue on the front porch about why Steve has been so absent and eventually, Eddie deflates realizing that he's been hurting Steve with his inability to confront his own feelings.

He shows Steve the date he painstakingly set up for him inside, presenting his first of many courting gifts.

idiot4idiot steddie wins again🥰🥰🥰

[rednecknerdguy]

Nifty difty fun fact from your local Exmormon former Missionary here: The more you are immersed in your language you are assigned to learn, the more you will learn it!

“But Rednecknerdguy” you, the mysterious person I invented to make a point says, “But what if I live in the middle-of-nowhere Alabama?”

“My sweet summer ethereal entity made entirely out of whole cloth” I respond lovingly, the way a parent is a child, “I knocked on your door. You see, in the summer heat of Alabama, the state with the worst immigration laws, I became fluent in Spanish.”

While going to the Mormon Missionary Training Center does help jump start your experience in learning a language, the only thing that can really force you to develop is total, complete immersion.

When I was in a companionship (aka, they gave us a roomate we had to stay with the whole time, it was a lot like getting married, but without the sex and I didn’t get a choice of buddy and we worked from 6:30 am all the way to 10:30) that was completely Spanish speaking, we used it all the time. We listened to Latino music, ate latinoamericano cuisine, congregated with Latin American folk, ran church in Spanish, went to fiestas y bodas y bautizos etc you get the picture. We ate, slept, drank, and breathed our new language.

(Figure 1: A missionary team immersing themselves in the language and totally not a weird Mormon themed porno GIF I found on the GIF browser and thought it was hilarious)

So, if you want to learn mandarin (which is what I am doing now) you have to enter the MANDARIN ZONE. Make it as easy as possible for your brain to be FORCED to learn Mandarin. Turn on CCTV or a C-drama (Eternal Love of Dream is the most popular C-drama of all time and it’s free on YouTube). Turn your phone to mandarin and stare at the pictograms. Watch kids education shows and read Chinese picture books, work your way up, reading out loud to yourself as if you are reading out loud to your kiddo.

(Also, holy shit there are so many NSFW GIFs in the browser now, did I miss something or was I too-Mormon-pilled to see them?)

Find someone to practice with. If you can’t, record yourself speaking and listen to it. Converse with yourself if you have to. Your brain is a cool little meat sack and it WILL force you to learn Mandarin if it has to.

When you aren’t doing that, read on Chinese history, learn to write in a script, not just pinyin. When you improve, start reading actual Chinese literature and write essays on it. Write back to 里话, your Chinese “pen pal” and tell him about your life.

You’ll do more than just gain a language: you’ll start to understand culture. That’s the true dividing line of “fluency” and Fluency. While you won’t have the same knowledge and experience of one whose native-born, and you shouldn’t treat yourself as some white savior “Last of the Mohicans”-Mormon Missionary-pasty-mayonnaise-colored-motherfucker, trust me, I would know, but you will have gained a level of insight and empathy most Americans (if you are American) couldn’t even hope to dream of.

I may never grow up mestizo, jegar a ser un inmigrante, jego a ser un ciudadano por un otro país, but I can empathize and comprehend it, at least as best as I can, having chosen to understand and appreciate the language and culture. So, thanks Old Geezers at the Head of the Mormon Church, I guess?

And for the love of Mormon Jesus, You Should Immersion Learn Yourself Now!

Absolutely out of my mind delighted by how many Mandarin teachers on Little Red Book (RedNote?) are putting out videos and doing livestreams teaching non-Mandarin-speaking ex-TikTokers how to speak the language 🥹 I've made more progress in language learning today than I had in four months of language apps 😂

[badathumanemotions]

Hello! I don't know if you're taking requests, but if you are I'm begging for an emily prentiss × female!reader with a dom/sub dynamic involving... Scissoring (I don't know if that's how you say it, but that's how I'm going to say it) after a difficult private case involving children (which is Emily's weak point) and I thought about breeding kinks, if possible (I think it's hot involving sapphic couples). Please?

The Quiet After

Emily Prentiss x femReader

MDNI Masterlist Category: Smut CW: Normal Criminal Minds Warnings, Case Involving Children, BAU Reader, Angst, Smut, Oral Sex, Tribidism, Scissoring, Strap On, Breeding Kink, Light Dom/Sub, Comfort. WC: 7,852 *Updated* Completely missed the first section while transferring it over, sorry about that. (Not Proof Read)

The case weighs heavily on Emily. It’s in her eyes—those tired, worn-out eyes you’ve come to know better than anyone else’s. She doesn’t let it show on the surface, but you can feel it. You know her. And this case, with the kids, is getting to her in a way that’s deeper than usual.

You watch her for a moment, standing at the board, her fingers tracing the photos of the missing children. The unsub believes he’s doing them a favour—taking them to a “better” place. It’s not hard to guess why it hits Emily so hard. There’s a part of her, a quiet, secret part, that wants to be a mother. She’s told you once, during one of those rare moments when she lets her guard down, when it’s just the two of you, and she’s soft, vulnerable in ways that few people get to see.

You’ve seen the subtle changes—the way her hands linger over the files of the kids, her shoulders tightening as the day stretches on. She’s struggling, but you’re here. You’re with her. And even when the case is consuming her, she finds ways to steal small moments with you, little gestures that recharge her.

A quiet kiss behind the SUV after the briefing. Her hand slipping into yours as you walk to the next scene. The brief press of her lips to your temple when she thinks no one’s looking. It’s in these moments that you can feel her ground herself again, as if your touch can remind her that she’s not alone in this.

The board in the conference room is covered with photos of the missing children, their faces staring back at you. There are seven so far, ranging in age from five to eleven. Beneath each photo are snapshots of their lives—school pictures, candid moments from birthday parties, photos scraped from social media. It’s a cruel juxtaposition against the grim reality of their current circumstances.

“The unsub is targeting children they perceive as neglected,” Spencer explains, standing near the map dotted with pins marking the locations of the abductions. “But their definition of neglect seems warped. The children’s backgrounds don’t show significant patterns of abuse or systemic failures.”

“It’s subjective,” Emily adds, her voice sharp and focused. “They’re acting on personal judgment, deciding these kids aren’t being cared for based on arbitrary criteria—like an out-of-context moment or assumption about the family dynamic.” Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, a shield against the emotions brimming beneath the surface.

Garcia clicks through slides on the projector, her voice uncharacteristically subdued. “This is Evan Marshall, eight years old. His mom works two jobs, so he’s often in the care of his older sister. She’s fifteen. CPS has never been involved. Teachers describe him as happy and well-adjusted.”

The photo shifts to a girl no older than twelve. “And this is Sophia Grant. Her dad is a single parent. No abuse on record, but the unsub might have seen him disciplining her in public. And then there’s Mia Lang, five years old. Her parents had a loud argument at a grocery store a week before she was taken. Someone might have seen that and made assumptions.”

“They think they’re saving these kids from a horrible life,” JJ says, shaking her head. “But in reality, they’re just ripping them away from their families.”

Spencer frowns, adding, “It’s likely that the unsub sees themselves as a redeemer, correcting what they perceive as societal failures. Each abduction reinforces their sense of righteousness. The more they take, the more justified they feel.”

A heavy silence falls over the room. The photos on the board feel suffocating. Seven children—snatched away under the guise of salvation, only to be murdered by someone who thinks they’re better off dead.

Emily’s gaze lingers on the images longer than the others. Her jaw tightens, and you can almost see the turmoil brewing beneath her composed exterior. This isn’t just another case for her. It’s personal in ways she hasn’t fully shared with anyone but you.

Later, during a quieter moment, you find her standing by the SUVs in the parking lot, her back to the building. Her fingers worry the strap of her holster, a nervous habit she doesn’t even realize she’s doing.

You approach slowly, your footsteps pulling her from her thoughts. She looks up, her expression softening slightly when her eyes meet yours.

“Hey,” you say, your voice gentle as you step closer.

She doesn’t speak immediately, but she doesn’t resist when you slide your hand into hers, offering her an anchor.

“I hate this case,” she finally admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not just the kids. It’s the way the unsub thinks they’re doing the right thing. That they’re justified.”

You nod, squeezing her hand lightly. “It’s awful. But we’ll find them, Emily. You’ll find them.”

Her jaw clenches, and for a moment, you think she’s going to argue, but then she exhales a shaky breath and nods. “I hope so,” she murmurs.

Her hand tightens around yours, grounding herself in your touch. It’s a stolen moment, brief but powerful, as she lets herself lean into you. The team doesn’t need to see this—the way she recharges herself in the quiet moments you share.

“You okay?” you ask softly, your free hand brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Her eyes meet yours, and though the exhaustion is clear, there’s gratitude there too. “I will be,” she says, her voice steadier now.

You stand there together for a little longer, the weight of the case momentarily lighter between you. It’s enough to remind her—and you—that she’s not in this alone.

The tension in the room was electric as the team pieced together the final parts of the unsub’s profile. Spencer’s rapid-fire monologue laid out the psychological motivations, each word building up a picture of the unsub.

“The unsub’s fixation stems from a personal history of perceived neglect,” he explained, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. “They’re projecting their own experiences onto these children and making judgment calls based on fleeting observations. The perceived neglect—a single-parent household, a sibling as a caretaker—is triggering their need to intervene.”

“They’re likely observing the children over time,” JJ added. “The unsub is targeting families that seem chaotic or unconventional from the outside, but these are often normal, loving homes. They’re misinterpreting moments—like a parent raising their voice in public or an older sibling looking overwhelmed—as signs of neglect.”

Emily’s arms were crossed tightly, her jaw set in a way you recognized. She was focused, determined, and more emotionally invested than she’d ever admit in front of the team.

“What we’ve seen so far suggests they’re escalating,” JJ added, her voice heavy with concern. “They’ve gone from abducting children every few weeks to every few days. If we don’t move fast, there’s going to be another victim.”

“Garcia, do we have anything on their potential location?” Hotch’s voice cut through the discussion with its usual authority.

Garcia’s fingers flew across her keyboard, her eyes scanning through reams of property records, utility bills, and work schedules for any anomaly that might point to a suspect. “I’m narrowing down properties owned or rented by individuals with ties to these areas," she said, her voice tense but determined. "I’m looking for someone whose daily routine brings them into contact with children in these areas—a school bus driver, a delivery person, someone who works near parks or schools. Those interactions might be how they observed the kids." She glanced at the screen. "Cross-referencing every property associated with individuals fitting the profile within a fifty-mile radius of the abduction sites. Hang tight, my loves, I’ll have something soon."

Moments later, her screen lit up with a match. "Okay, I’ve got something. George Lyman, 38 years old, works as a postal carrier in the targeted areas. His route regularly takes him through neighbourhoods where each of the victims lived. He’s single, no criminal record, but… oh." Garcia paused, her tone shifting. "He has a history of child protective services reports from his own childhood. His parents were flagged multiple times for physical and emotional abuse, but every time George ran away, he was returned to them. There are records of repeated visits by social workers, but nothing was ever done to remove him from the home.”

Emily’s face darkened. “So he sees himself in these kids, believes he’s saving them.”

Hotch nodded. “That fits with the profile. What else do we have on him?”

“He rents a farmhouse just outside town,” Garcia continued. “It’s isolated and matches the description of the type of location we’ve been looking for. I’m sending you the address now.”

You caught Emily’s eye across the room. The exhaustion in her face was mirrored in your own, but beneath it, you saw the same resolve. You gave her a small nod, and she returned it—just a fraction, but it was enough to steady you both.

The drive to the farmhouse was tense. Emily sat beside you, her leg bouncing with restless energy. She’d barely spoken since the briefing, and you knew better than to press her. Instead, you let your pinky brush hers on the console between you, a silent reassurance. She glanced at you briefly, the corners of her mouth twitching in a ghost of a smile, before turning her focus back to the road ahead.

The farmhouse loomed in the distance, its silhouette stark against the darkening sky. The team split into pairs, surrounding the property. You were with Emily, your weapons drawn as you moved toward the back entrance.

“Ready?” you whispered.

She nodded, her jaw tightening. “Let’s do this.”

The door creaked open under Emily’s firm push, revealing a dimly lit interior that smelled of damp wood and decay. You swept the first room together, clearing it quickly before moving deeper into the house. Upstairs, muffled voices and a child’s cry sent a chill down your spine.

Emily held up a hand, signalling you to pause. She leaned toward you, her voice barely audible. “They’re up there. We need to be careful.”

You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest. Together, you ascended the stairs, each step deliberate and silent. At the top, you found yourselves in a long hallway, the sound of the child’s cries growing louder. Emily gestured to the farthest door, and you both moved toward it.

Hotch’s voice came through your comm. “We’ve cleared the lower level. The house is empty except for one suspect. Any sign of the child?”

Emily responded quietly, “We’re about to breach a room on the second floor. Stand by.”

You reached the door and exchanged a glance with her. This was it. Emily counted down with her fingers, and on three, you burst into the room together.

The room was small, its walls covered with old wallpaper curling at the edges. A man stood in the center, his grip tight on a terrified boy’s arm. The child, no older than eight, was trembling, his tear-streaked face pale with fear.

“FBI!” Emily shouted, her voice commanding. “Drop the weapon and let the boy go!”

The unsub’s eyes were wild, darting between you and Emily. He clutched a knife in his free hand, the blade trembling as much as his fingers. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m saving him.”

“Saving him from what?” you asked, keeping your voice calm. “He needs his family. Whatever you think you’re doing, this isn’t the way to help.”

The unsub shook his head violently. “No one cared about me! No one ever cared! They won’t care about him either!”

Emily took a slow, careful step forward, her gun still trained on the man. “George, listen to me. You’re scared, and you’re hurting, but this isn’t the answer. Look at him—he’s just a child. You can’t make him go through what you did.”

For a moment, something flickered in George’s eyes—hesitation, maybe even regret. His grip on the knife faltered, his hand trembling. But then, in an instant, he pulled the boy closer, the blade pressing against the child’s neck.

“Stay back!” George screamed, his voice breaking. “Don’t make me do this!”

Your heart raced as you saw the terror in the boy’s eyes. Emily’s voice remained steady, though you could hear the edge of desperation in it. “You don’t have to do this, George. Put the knife down, and we’ll talk. No one else has to get hurt.”

The standoff stretched into agonizing seconds, every muscle in your body coiled and ready to move. You caught Emily’s eye, and she gave the slightest nod—silent confirmation of the plan forming between you.

In a swift motion, Emily fired, her shot hitting George’s shoulder with pinpoint accuracy. The knife clattered to the floor as George cried out in pain, his grip on the boy loosening. You didn’t hesitate, lunging forward and pulling the child into your arms, shielding him as Emily rushed to subdue the unsub.

“It’s okay,” you whispered to the boy, your voice gentle as you held him close. “You’re safe now. We’ve got you.”

The boy clung to you, his small hands gripping your shirt as he sobbed uncontrollably. You crouched on the floor with him, your body positioned protectively between him and the rest of the room.

Emily secured George with practiced efficiency, her jaw tight as she snapped the handcuffs into place. She glanced over at you and the boy, her expression softening ever so slightly when she saw you murmuring reassurances to him.

The rest of the team arrived moments later, the tension in the room finally breaking as Hotch and Morgan took over. Emily walked over to you, crouching beside you and the boy.

“Hey,” she said softly, her voice a stark contrast to the authority she’d wielded moments ago. “You’re safe now. Can you tell me your name?”

The boy hiccupped through his tears. “E-Evan,” he managed.

Emily smiled gently. “Evan, you’re so brave. We’re going to take you home, okay?”

He nodded, his grip on you loosening just enough for Emily to brush a comforting hand over his back.

As the team began to clear the scene and escort George out, you stayed with Evan, his small frame still trembling against yours. Emily stood, giving you a brief but meaningful look before stepping away to help the others.

You held Evan a little tighter, feeling the weight of his fear and relief as if it were your own. In that moment, nothing else mattered but making sure he felt safe.

The boy, Evan, was safely in the hands of the paramedics now, his sobs slowly subsiding as he clung to one of the responders. The team had the unsub secured, and the farmhouse was already being cleared. You felt a wave of exhaustion wash over you as you watched them lead Evan to safety, but it wasn’t over yet.

“Good job, everyone,” Hotch said, his voice steady, even in the aftermath. “Let’s wrap this up.”

The drive back home was quiet, the weight of the case still hanging heavy in the air. You sat beside Emily, your fingers brushing occasionally, the small touches speaking volumes. She was focused on the road, her jaw tense, but you could see the weariness in her eyes. You didn’t speak, neither of you needed to, but your proximity was a comfort—a grounding force amid the chaos of the case.

By the time you made it to your shared apartment, the evening had settled into a quiet calm, but the emotions of the day were far from gone. You both stepped out of the SUV, the cool night air feeling sharper now as it hit your skin. Without a word, you walked side by side into the building, up to your apartment, and inside.

The door clicked shut behind you, and just like that, the quiet of the apartment surrounded you both, cutting through the exhaustion that clung to your bones.

Emily didn’t say anything. She simply kicked off her shoes, then reached for you, pulling you into a tight embrace. Her arms were strong, but there was something softer about this moment—more raw than you’d seen in her before. It was as if she couldn’t bear to let go of you, even for a second.

Then she leaned in, her breath warm against your cheek. Her kiss took you by surprise—intimate and urgent. It was as if she was trying to erase the horror of the day with the press of her lips to yours. You didn’t resist. You couldn’t. Instead, you melted into it, letting the heat of her touch seep into your very soul.

Her arms wound around your waist, pulling you closer, until there wasn’t an inch of space between you. Your hands found their way to her hair, tangling in the soft strands as the kiss grew deeper, more desperate. It was a kiss filled with fear and anger, but also with a fierce love and a need to be connected—to be human.

Without breaking away, you both stumbled into the bedroom. The door clicked shut, cutting off the outside world, leaving just the two of you. You didn’t bother with the lights, the moon casting enough of a glow through the windows to navigate the room. Her hands were everywhere—on your neck, your back, sliding down to your ass—and you could feel the urgency in every touch, as if she was trying to claim you as her own.

Emily’s strength was surprising as she hoisted you onto the bed. You felt your breath hitch as she looked down at you, a wild hunger burning in her gaze. You could see the need etched on her features, the same need echoing in your own chest. It was raw, animalistic, and you craved it like a drug.

Her hands moved to the buttons of your shirt, deftly undoing them one by one. Each button released cool air against your skin, causing goosebumps to break out. She took her time, kissing each inch of exposed flesh as if she were worshipping it, her lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The fabric parted to reveal your bra, and she took a moment to simply look at you, her eyes darkening with desire.

Emily’s fingertips danced along the lace, tracing the edge of your bra before gently pushing the fabric up to reveal your breasts. She took one nipple into her mouth, her tongue swirling around it in a slow, tantalizing dance that had you arching off the bed. The sensation was exquisite, and you couldn’t help but moan, your hands fisting in the sheets. Her other hand found its way to your waistband, and she began to unbuckle your belt with an agonizing slowness that made you want to scream in frustration.

Her kisses travelled down your torso, each one more urgent than the last. She kissed your stomach, her breath tickling the sensitive skin, and you felt your abs clench in anticipation. As she reached the button of your pants, she paused, her eyes meeting yours. You nodded, giving her the silent go-ahead, your body aching for her touch.

Your pants fell away, revealing the simple cotton panties that were already damp with need. Emily’s gaze was intense, her pupils dilated with desire. Her hand reached out, tracing the waistband of your underwear with the back of her fingers before she hooked them and slowly began to pull them down.

Her eyes were focused as the fabric slid over your hips, exposing the wetness that had gathered between your legs. You watched her face, the hunger in her expression unmistakable. It sent a thrill through you, a heady mix of desire and power, knowing you could do this to her.

Emily’s fingertips brushed over your inner thighs, sending shivers of anticipation through your body. You spread your legs wider, silently begging for her touch. She didn’t make you wait long. With a soft, almost reverent sigh, she reached down and parted your folds with the tips of her fingers. You gasped as she touched you, the sensation of her skin against yours sending heat through your core.

Her touch was gentle at first—exploratory. She traced the length of your slit, her fingertips slipping through your slickness and circling your clit with maddening precision. Your hips rocked upward, seeking more pressure, but she took her time, her eyes studying your reactions. Each touch was calculated, a silent exploration of what you liked, what you needed.

Then, her fingers entered you, sliding in smoothly. You bit your lip to stifle a moan as she began to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace that had you panting. Her thumb found your clit, stroking it in time with the movement of her fingers. It was a sweet agony, the anticipation of what was to come building with every second that passed.

She brought her mouth to your pussy, her tongue swiping over your clit with a gentle touch that had you trembling. She took her time, savouring every part of you, and when she finally closed her lips around the sensitive bud, you couldn’t hold back the gasp.

Her suckling grew more intense, each pull sending shockwaves through your body. Her teeth grazed you gently, not quite biting, but adding an edge to the pleasure that had you digging your nails into the bedspread. Emily’s hand gripped your thigh, holding you in place as she explored your depths, her fingers moving in tandem with her mouth.

As the tension grew, you felt your body begin to quiver. You reached down to stroke her hair, needing to feel connected to her in every way possible. She took your cue, increasing her pace, her tongue flicking against your clit with a rhythm that had your toes curling. Your breathing grew ragged, your moans echoing through the room.

Emily’s own need was palpable. You could see it in the way her hips began to rock back and forth, grinding her core against the edge of the bed. She was so focused on bringing you pleasure that she forgot about herself. But you weren’t going to let that happen.

With trembling hands, you reached down and pulled Emily up onto the bed. Her body was a warm, solid weight against you. You both needed this—needed to feel each other, needed to be close.

You began to kiss her again, but this time, you were the one in charge. Your hands moved to her shirt, slipping it off her shoulders and down her arms, revealing her bare skin to the cool air. Her bra followed, and you took a moment to just look at her—her perfect breasts, the rosy tips of her nipples standing at attention.

Your tongue darted out, tracing the outline of one erect peak before closing your mouth around it. Emily gasped, her head falling back, and you took advantage, sucking gently as you teased the sensitive flesh. You felt her hands in your hair, her nails digging into your scalp as she pulled you closer, her hips bucking against you.

Your hands moved to her breasts, cupping the soft mounds before squeezing them firmly. Your thumbs flicked over the tightened buds, eliciting whimpers that only spurred you on. You could feel her nipples pebbled against your palms, the sensation sending jolts of desire straight to your own core. Emily’s breath grew shallower, her body arching towards you as you played her like an instrument.

With a sudden, urgent need to feel all of her, you slid your hand down her stomach, over the waistband of her pants. Your fingers worked the button and zipper with surprising dexterity, given how much your own hands were shaking. You pushed the fabric down, her underwear following, revealing her bare sex.

Emily’s thighs parted slightly, an unspoken invitation that you couldn’t resist. You gripped her thighs firmly, spreading her wider as you leaned in to taste her. Your tongue darted out, lapping up the wetness that had pooled at her entrance.

Her hips jerked in response, a soft whine escaping her as you found her clit, swollen and begging for attention. You took it into your mouth, sucking gently before swirling your tongue around it, feeling it pulse against you. Her legs quivered around your head, and you knew you had her exactly where you wanted her.

Your fingers slid into her, curling slightly to hit that spot inside that always made her moan. The sound was music to your ears, a symphony of need and desire that had you pressing harder, moving faster. Emily’s breath was coming in short gasps now, her body tightening with every stroke.

The two of you were a captivating mess—half-clothed and carelessly undone, tangled together on the bed in a chaotic, feverish embrace, completely consumed by desire. Emily’s eyes never left yours as you pleasured her, her gaze a blend of passion and something deeper—gratitude, perhaps, for this brief reprieve from the horrors of the case.

Her hips rolled against your mouth, and you knew she was close. You doubled your efforts, desperate to make her cum, to show her that amidst the chaos, she was cherished, loved. You added a second finger, curling them inside her in a come-hither motion that had her back bowing off the bed.

Emily’s breath grew ragged, her eyes squeezed shut as she whispered your name. You could feel her body tighten around your fingers, her muscles clenching as the first waves of her orgasm began to crash over her. You didn’t let up, your mouth working her clit, your other hand sliding up to pinch her nipple, twisting just enough to send sparks of painful pleasure shooting through her.

“Cum for me, Em,” you murmured against her folds, the vibration of your voice sending another tremor through her body. “Let go, baby.”

Emily’s eyes snapped open, meeting yours, and you could see the need there, the desperation in her gaze. You didn’t stop your relentless rhythm, didn’t ease up on her clit. You needed her to release, to feel the shattering pleasure that you knew was just out of reach.

Then, you began to hum—a low, steady vibration that resonated against her sensitive flesh. It was all it took. Her body went rigid, and then she was cumming, her orgasm ripping through her like a storm. Her cries filled the room, her hips jerking wildly against your face as you held her through it, her muscles pulsing around your fingers.

It was a beautiful sight—Emily’s release, raw and unbridled. You felt a sense of accomplishment, a fierce satisfaction at being the one to give it to her. But even as the first orgasm subsided, you didn’t stop. You knew her body, knew that with the right touches, you could coax more from her.

Your tongue remained on her clit, flicking gently through the aftershocks. Emily’s hips rolled, and you knew she was trying to pull away, to catch her breath, but you held her firm, keeping the pressure steady. It didn’t take much—just a few more strokes before she was gasping again, her body responding to your relentless pursuit of her pleasure.

Her second orgasm hit her like a surprise attack, stealing the breath from her lungs. She bucked against you, her pussy fluttering around your fingers. You groaned against her, the vibration of your voice sending another jolt through her.

Emily’s hands were in your hair now, her nails scraping at your scalp, holding you in place. You felt the tension in her thighs as she rode the waves of pleasure, her breath coming in panting gasps. You didn’t let up, your tongue and fingers working in tandem to milk every last drop of ecstasy from her trembling body.

As the second orgasm began to subside, you slowly pulled back, kissing your way up her body. You could feel her pulse beneath your lips, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. You looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort, but all you saw was a desperate hunger that mirrored your own.

Without a word, she rolled you over, her body straddling yours. Her hands found your face, pulling it closer until your mouths collided in a kiss that was as fiery as it was tender. She kissed you as if she were trying to consume you, her tongue delving into your mouth with an urgency that was almost desperate.

Emily’s hips began to move, grinding into yours with a rhythm that was both seductive and demanding. You could feel the heat of her core against yours, the wetness of her desire coating your skin. Your own need grew, your body responding instinctively to the pressure of hers.

Without breaking the kiss, you shifted, aligning your bodies so that your clits met. The sensation was electric, sending bolts of pleasure through your core. You moaned into her mouth, your legs locking together as you began to rock back and forth.

The wet sound of skin against skin grew louder, punctuating the air with each movement. Your hips rolled together in a sensual dance, the friction building between you. The pressure was exquisite, the feeling of her body against yours setting off sparks that threatened to ignite a wildfire.

You wrapped your arms around her, your hands finding purchase on her toned back as she ground into you. Your own hips met hers thrust for thrust, each movement bringing you closer to the edge. The scent of your combined arousal filled the room, a musky perfume that was intoxicating.

Her hips picked up speed, the friction between you growing more intense. You could feel the slickness of your desire as it coated your thighs, a testament to how badly you needed this release. Emily’s breath was hot against your neck, her teeth grazing your skin as she nipped and kissed her way down to your collarbone.

You both were so wet, the sound of your bodies sliding against each other filled the room. Your clits swollen and sensitive, the constant pressure sending waves of pleasure through your bodies. You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer, the heat of her breasts pressing into yours.

Emily’s hands slid down to your ass, gripping you firmly as she ground her hips into yours. The sensation was overwhelming, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body with every movement. Your own hips matched hers, the rhythm becoming more frenzied as you both chased the peak of your climax.

“You’re so wet for me, sweet girl,” she murmured against your neck, her voice a low growl of approval. The words sent a shiver of submission that you had desperately craved. You arched into her touch, your body begging for more.

Emily’s kiss grew more demanding, her tongue delving into your mouth as if she could taste your need. You could feel the tremble in her own body, the aftershocks of her recent orgasm still resonating through her. But she wasn’t done with you yet.

With a sudden shift, she pulled away, her eyes dark with intent. “Be a good girl and make me cum one more time,” she breathed, the words sending a new wave of lust through you. You nodded, eager to give her what she wanted, eager to feel her come apart in your arms again.

“I plan on getting my strap out and breeding you tonight, sweetheart,” Emily whispered in your ear, the promise of dominance in her voice sending a thrill through you. Your eyes widened at her words, the excitement of the turn in your intimate moment making your heart race.

With a sudden surge of need, your hips bucked against hers, your body desperately seeking the release that was just out of reach. Emily’s eyes lit up with approval, her grip on you tightening as she held you in place. “Looks like you want it as badly as I do,” she said with a smirk, her voice low and husky with desire.

You nodded, unable to form coherent words as you felt the pressure building again. Emily’s own hips began to rock, her movements more deliberate and forceful as she matched your rhythm. The feeling of her clit grinding against yours was heavenly, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. You could feel the heat from her core, the wetness of her desire, and it only made you want more.

The sound of her moans grew louder, filling the room. They were sweet and needy, urging you to give her what she craved. You responded in kind, your own sounds of pleasure mingling with hers. Each gasp, each whimper was a symphony of desire that spurred you onward.

Her hips rocked faster, the slickness of your arousal making it easier for her to glide against you. You could feel the tension coil tight in your stomach, your legs trembling with the effort to keep up. Your body was a live wire, ready to snap at any moment.

Emily’s moans grew louder, the sound of her pleasure pushing you closer and closer to your own release. Your own breath came in pants and gasps, your nails digging into the flesh of her back as you held on for dear life. You felt her get wetter, her movements growing more erratic as she approached climax.

“Cum for me, Emily, please,” you begged, the words spilling from your mouth like a prayer. The need to hear her fall apart, to feel her body convulse with pleasure was overwhelming. She threw her head back, her eyes squeezed shut, and you knew she was close.

With a few hard, desperate thrusts, you pushed against her, the friction between your bodies reaching a fever pitch. Emily’s hips stuttered, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. And then, she was there—her body tightening against yours, her cries filling the room as she shuddered with release.

The moment she came, you felt it—a rush of wetness that soaked the sheets beneath you. You couldn’t help but moan at the sensation, your own climax just a breath away. Emily’s eyes snapped open, and she stared down at you with a fierce hunger.

Then, she broke away, reaching for the bedside drawer. You watched as she pulled out a harness and a silicone dildo. The sight of it sent a thrill through you, a mix of excitement and trepidation. She looked into your eyes, her own alight with something primal.

“I’m going to fuck a baby into you,” Emily growls. It was a dark promise, a fantasy that sent a shiver down your spine. The words alone were enough to make your pussy throb with anticipation.

The harness was strapped around her hips, the dildo jutting out like an extension of her. She leaned over you, the tip brushing against your wetness, and you felt your body respond instinctively, your hips rising to meet it.

Emily took hold of your hips, her grip firm and commanding. You watched as she positioned the toy at your entrance. Then, with a single, powerful thrust, she plunged into your wet heat.

You cried out in pleasure, the feeling of fullness overwhelming you as she claimed you. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you couldn’t help but let your head fall back into the pillow, your body arching up to meet her. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your gasps and her growls of effort.

Emily’s eyes bore into yours, the intensity of her gaze making your heart race. “You’re mine,” she murmured, her voice low and possessive. “You’re going to carry my baby.”

The words hung in the air, coloured with desire and dominance. It was a heady mix, and you found yourself nodding, eager to submit to her every whim. The thought of being filled by her, of carrying a piece of her inside you, was intoxicating.

“Yes, Em,” you babbled out, your voice trembling with need. “I want it—please, take me, make me yours. I want to be filled with you, to carry your baby. Make me feel it, all of it. Don’t stop.”

Emily’s eyes blazed with desire, her pupils blown out. She leaned down, her breasts brushing against yours, and whispered, “You’re going to be so full, my love. Everyone will know you’re mine, that you’re carrying my child.”

With that, she began to move in earnest, setting a steady pace that had you whimpering. Each thrust filled you completely, the girth of the toy stretching your walls and hitting that spot inside that made your toes curl. Your hands clutched at her shoulders, your nails digging in as you tried to keep up with the sensations that were crashing over you like waves.

Her hips moved in a relentless rhythm, the dildo sliding in and out of you with ease. The room was filled with the sounds of your muffled cries and the slick sound of her movements. You could feel yourself building, your body responding to the eroticism of her words and actions.

Emily lifted one of your legs, changing the angle and hitting you deeper, harder. The sudden shift in sensation had you crying out, your hand flying to cover your mouth to keep the noise from escaping. Your eyes watered as she stared down at you, her expression one of pure determination.

Then, she grabbed your wrist, her grip surprisingly firm, and pulled your hand away from your mouth. "Don't you dare stifle those pretty little sounds," she demanded, a dark smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"I want the neighbours to hear how good I’m making you feel," Emily growled, the feral sound sending a shiver down your spine. She pulled out almost all the way before slamming back into you, the force of her thrust making the bed frame shake. Your moan was loud, echoing through the apartment, and you felt a thrill knowing that anyone close by could hear the unmistakable sounds of your passion.

Her hips picked up speed, the slap of her thighs against yours growing louder. Each thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, and you found yourself letting go, moaning louder and louder, the sounds bouncing off the walls.

Emily’s grip on your hips tightened as she pulled you down onto her silicone cock, the friction building between your bodies. She was relentless, her movements powerful and possessive. You could feel yourself getting wetter, the sound of your slickness mingling with your cries of pleasure.

Her other hand found its way to your throat, not squeezing but rather holding you in place as she claimed you. The dominance was intoxicating, and you found yourself leaning into it, your body begging for more.

As Emily’s strokes grew more intense, so did her words, whispered into your ear like dark promises. "You’re going to carry my baby," she repeated, her voice a mix of a command and a desperate plea. "You’re going to be so full of me, so ripe with life."

The thought sent you spiralling, your body responding in kind. You felt your orgasm building, the pressure in your core tightening with each thrust. "Yes, Emily," you moaned, your voice breaking. "I want it—want to be filled with you, to carry your baby."

Her eyes lit up with triumph at your words, her movements growing even more frenzied. She leaned down, her teeth grazing your neck as she whispered, "You're going to cum for me, aren't you?" It was a question, but there was no doubt in her tone.

You nodded, unable to form words as the pleasure mounted, threatening to overwhelm you. Emily's grip on your throat tightened slightly, a silent command to look at her as she took you over the edge. Your eyes widened as your climax approached your body tightening around the silicone cock.

"Emily, please," you managed to choke out, the desperation in your voice clear. "I need to feel you cum in me."

Her eyes darkened at the words, and she leaned in closer, her breath hot against your skin. "You want it that badly?" she whispered, her hips grinding into you.

You could only nod, the anticipation of her release almost too much to bear. Emily’s eyes searched yours, a silent question before she leaned down and whispered, "You’re going to feel every drop of me filling you up, baby. You’re going to be so full."

Her words sent you over the edge. Your orgasm was intense, your vision swimming with stars as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You could feel Emily’s own excitement in her tightened grip, her hips moving faster as she watched you come apart beneath her. It was as if your pleasure fuelled hers, her thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding.

As your climax subsided, she leaned in to kiss you, her breath ragged and her eyes bright with desire. But she didn’t stop moving, the toy still buried deep inside you. The feeling of fullness remained, a delicious reminder of your shared fantasy.

Emily’s kisses grew more tender, her movements slowing to a gentle rocking that kept the pleasure simmering without letting it boil over again. Each thrust was deliberate, drawing out every sensation, making you feel cherished and owned. It was a tender domination that made you melt into the mattress beneath her.

With surprising grace, she shifted your positions so that you were both laying on your sides, the silicone cock still buried deep within you. Your legs tangled together, her hand still resting on your throat, but now with a gentle, soothing pressure that was a contrast to the intensity of moments ago. Her thumb brushed your jawline, turning your face towards her, her eyes searching yours.

Then, she leaned in and captured your lips in a slow, sensual kiss. It was a kiss filled with everything unsaid, everything felt but not voiced. Her tongue danced with yours, a dance that was both sweet and demanding.

The kiss lingered, slower now but just as intense, a way to ground yourselves after the chaos of the case. Emily’s hands slid over your back, holding you close, and you let yourself sink into her, feeling the tension in your body finally ease. The weight of everything—the long hours, the children’s faces, the endless cycle of chasing darkness—seemed to lift with each shared breath.

When the high broke, it was like coming up for air after being submerged for too long. Both of you stilled, breathless and spent, bodies still tangled together as the energy between you shifted into something gentler, softer. Emily rested her head on your shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around your waist, as though letting go might bring the world crashing back in. Her fingers moved absently along your skin, a grounding motion more for her than for you.

You turned slightly to look at her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. Her dark eyes met yours, no longer guarded. There was a softness in her expression she rarely let anyone see—a vulnerability reserved for you alone. It was a part of Emily she kept locked away, buried beneath layers of composure and strength, but here, in the quiet of your shared sanctuary, she let you see it.

“I needed that,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of her exhaustion. “I needed you.”

Your heart ached at the honesty in her words, and you reached out, running a hand along her arm. “I’m here,” you said simply but with conviction. “I’m always here, Emily.”

She sighed, her body sinking further against yours as though your words had given her permission to let go. “It’s just… too much sometimes,” she murmured, her voice cracking slightly. “The cases, the victims, the choices we have to make. I keep it together out there, but when it’s over, it feels like it’s all going to crush me.”

Your chest tightened at her admission. Emily rarely talked about the toll the job took on her—not with anyone else, not even with the team. But with you, she let the walls come down, piece by piece. You cupped her face gently, guiding her to meet your gaze.

“It doesn’t have to crush you,” you said, your tone soft but firm. “You don’t have to carry it alone. Let me help. Lean on me, Emily. Please.”

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought she might push back, but then her face crumpled just slightly, and she nodded. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispered, her voice unsteady. “You’re the only one I can… let this out with.”

“You won’t have to find out,” you assured her, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

Emily’s hand settled on your hip, her thumb brushing lazily against your skin. The tension that had held her body rigid for hours finally began to ebb. She exhaled slowly, her breath warm against your neck, as though releasing the weight she had carried all day.

For a long while, neither of you spoke, the room quiet except for the sound of your breathing. The case, the emotions, the burden of it all—it wasn’t gone, but it felt lighter now. You could feel it in the way her body relaxed against yours, the way her hand stopped fidgeting and simply rested on you, the way her breathing evened out.

You pulled her closer, holding her as tightly as she held you, grounding her in the present. “You’re safe,” you murmured softly. “We’re safe. Just us.”

Emily lifted her head slightly, her dark eyes meeting yours again. The gratitude in her expression was so raw, so unguarded, it made your breath catch. She leaned in and kissed you again—not out of passion, but something deeper. It was a kiss of trust, of love, of everything she couldn’t quite put into words but poured into you all the same.

When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours, her fingers tangling with yours. “Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice steadier now.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you replied, brushing your thumb over her knuckles. “This is what we do for each other. I’m here, Emily. I always will be.”

She smiled faintly, the first genuine smile you’d seen from her since the case had started. “I’m holding you to that.”

“You should,” you teased lightly, earning a soft laugh from her. It was quiet, but it was real, and it was everything.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other. No barriers, no walls, just the safety of knowing you didn’t have to face the world alone. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

[oldermenwh0re]

we can’t be friends- chris sturniolo

authors note: hey guys!! this is my first ever time writing any sort of fan fiction!! this most definitely isn’t my best work lol, but i really hope you guys enjoy it!! im actually really proud of this, it turned out better than i thought😭 and ik i probably need to find a divider LMAO. anyways, enjoy!!!🫶🏼

warnings: smut | p in v | unprotected sex (pls don’t do this) | praise kink | pain kink? | aftercare | and i think that’s pretty much it lol

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“dude, what the fuck is your problem?” chris says while yelling at me.

i sit there, trying to figure out what to say as my eyes begin to water.

“nothing!! what the fuck is your deal? why are you so pressed?” i choke out.

“you keep hanging out with matt, why have you been ignoring me?” he yells, as i can tell he’s about to get upset.

“why do you care? are you jealous or something? not everything is about you!” i yell.

“watch the attitude.” he grunts.

“or what.” i say while looking at him directly in his eyes.

as i wait for him to respond, i start to see this look in his eyes. not anger, not sadness, but hunger. a way he’s never looked at me like before. my stomach flips. for as long as we’ve been friends, we’ve flirted here and there as a joke, since we always mess around, but his eyes are telling me that it might not just be a joke.

he laugh, with a snarky grin on his face.

“oh ill show you. get on the bed. now.”

my stomach drops. he’s never been like this before, and i don’t know if he’s joking or not. i stare at him blankly, not knowing how to respond.

“now.” he says in a growl.

he pushes me onto the bed, as i fall onto my back and my cheeks turn bright red.

i prop myself up with my arms as chris starts walking closer and closer towards me. my heart begins to race. “we’re best friends, we shouldn’t be doing this. we’ve known each other since we were kids.” i thought to myself, but at the same time, my pussy starts to throb, aching for his touch.

as he gets on top of the bed, he pins me down and begins to messily make out with me. our tounges dance together, it’s like our mouths were made for each other.

he starts toying with my sweatpants and my thong, and i lift myself up to help him take it off of me. he gets my gesture, and looks at me while taking it off.

“fuck.” he whispers.

he runs his hands down my body, as my body shivers from his touch. i start aching for his fingers. i pull on his shirt and take it off of him. i run my acrylic nails down his chest, admiring him as much as i can in this moment.

he steps back, taking off his pants and his boxers, and i do the same with my top.

“no bra? fuck ma you’re killing me.”

i smirk, seeing his dick twitch. he gets back on top of me and his mouth instantly attaches to my nipple. i arch my back, already overwhelmed with pleasure. he then leaves love marks all over my body, all the way until he reaches my throbbing pussy. he then kisses my thighs until his head is lined up with my entrance. he then attaches his mouth to my cunt, and i begin to moan in response. he sucks and licks my clit, hitting every. damn. spot.

i grab the sheets in response, overwhelmed with pleasure. fuck he knows what he’s doing. i begin to grab his hair as he’s face to face with my aching core, and he grunts as i pull on his hair.

“fuck chris, im- im- im getting close”

“already? you don’t get to cum until i say so. go it?”

i try to respond but all that comes out are scattered moans.

“answer me.” he says in a growl as he removes his mouth from my leaking cunt.

“y-yes. got it.” i manage to get out in a breathy moan.

he then attaches his lips back to my cunt, going even harder than before. i let out a yelp, feeling that im getting closer and closer.

“chris. fuck. im so close please.” i whimper.

“go ahead, you’ve been such a good girl. you got this.”

just his words send me over the edge, as I squirt all over his face while cumming, and he licks up every last drop.

i lay, trying to catch my breath, and he unexpectedly flips me over onto my stomach.

“ass up, get on all fours.”

i shakily arch my back, getting on all fours with my ass in the air. he smacks my ass before lining himself up with my enterance.

he doesn’t even hesitate to, slamming his cock into my pussy. i let out a load moan, the pleasure becoming too much.

“fuck ma, you’re so tight. it’s like this pussy was made for me.”

i whimper in response, his words making my pussy throb. as i begin to slow down, he notices and begins to insert his two fingers inside my leaking cunt. i let out a yelp, completely overwhelmed with the amount of pleasure.

“fuck chris. i-im so close. please let me cum.”

“go ahead baby, i can feel you getting close. im right there with you. come all over my cock angel.”

i let out a last loud moan, as i release all over him, and he wasn’t far behind as he fills up my pussy to the brim with his seed.

i feel empty as he pulls out. he then goes to get a damp towel, cleaning up the mess we made.

“cmon pretty girl, let’s go get you cleaned up in the shower, yeah?”

i smile and nod my head as he picks me up bridal style, carrying me to the bathroom.

“just letting you know, you’re never getting rid of me now. we need to do this again.”

i smile and laugh, while kissing him on the cheek, following him into the shower.

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hope you guys enjoyed it!! i actually enjoyed writing this and it’s not too bad considering it’s my first blurb hehe. but leave any requests for anything you want me to do in the future!!🤍

taglist: @sweetshuga @chrisissobabygirl @strnilolover @solarsturniolo @hearts4werka @chrisbunnys @maliabakerscurls @ghostface712 @endereies @sturniololuv08 @m4ggvt @natalie69sworld

( oh and let me know if you want to be added or removed !)

[aliwritex]

Heyy!! could you make a franco x reader where they are young parents fic?

a/n: this is short but super cute. some thoughts about dad!franco

Finding out you were going to be parents at 21 wasn’t exactly the greatest thing ever. You were scared and confused at first, not knowing what to do about anything, really. And it was a while till you finally figured out what to do about it.

After you told Franco about your suspicion, you took a test and cried yourself to sleep in his arms when it came out positive. That was not what you had planned. Having just finished your studies, you wanted to start working in your area, get married and then finally start thinking about kids.

He did his best throughout your entire pregnancy, of course that landing the Alpine seat meant he was working more but he always made sure you look after you. He suggested you moved in as soon as you found out, already planing to turn the empty room in his apartment into a nursery.

Franco’s excitement made things a lot easier, he loved kids and always wanted some of his own, surely not so early but he had to take what the universe offered. He showered you with attention and he was in love with your bump. When the baby started kicking he’d lay his head on your lap and stay there for hours, feeling all the movements — then telling the baby off for hurting you.

Your baby boy was born in the summer, little Mateo looked just like him, it almost made you mad. But with a face like that it was impossible.

You were convinced that he was the easiest baby ever, completely healthy, settled into a schedule quickly, quiet and not much work at all. That was until he started walking. The boy became impossible, baby proofing the house was needed the day after he stood for the first time. Your once quiet little boy was now a cheeky smiley toddler.

“¡Boludo, te va a dar um toque!” Franco exclaimed, quickly picking up the child from the floor “Did you see that, mi amor? He was pulling the tape from the outlet” he explained popping into the bathroom where you were getting ready

“Don’t swear around him, please”

Mateo was now a little over a year old and was attending his first race. What you didn’t realize about traveling with a curious toddler was how unsafe hotel rooms are. You had managed to tape all the outlets shut but the baby boy was a little too smart for his own good.

“I didn’t swear!”

“Was that not a bad word?” he shook his head and you rolled your eyes “Right. Need to remember to bring the plugs next time, he’s too smart for the tape.”

It’s not that Franco kept you a secret, you just had a private relationship and never posted about your son. So when you walked into the paddock together with a stroller it was a surprise to many people. You tried to keep a low profile but Santi was just too happy to be there, waving and smiling at everyone. He also did not want to be locked up in his dads room while an entire world for him to explore was right outside.

“He kept calling for Papa” you explained as you walked up to the garage.

It was still Friday morning so there wasn’t much happening around, just Franco talking somethings through with his engineer. So he was free to take your son.

“Vení acá, Teo.” the child smiled, slipping his hand away from yours to run to his dad “Wanna see Papa's car?”

Your son absolutely loved everything. You could see his eyes light up in excitement when Franco showed him anything. He picked him up to show him the inside of the car, Teo was giggling as he flipped him almost upside down to look at it. He even pulled out the steering wheel and the kid was perplexed with all the buttons. You took pictures of everything, so many of them both smiling and laughing at each other.

“Right, that’s enough exploring” you took the child from his arms “someone needs a bottle and a nap or they’ll be too cranky to watch Papa drive later. See you in a bit, okay?”

Franco nodded, stealing a quick kiss on your lips before you left. He couldn’t be happier that he had his family there for him.

[hurtspideyparker]

After Peter takes Tony on a poor person's tour of New York City (Part 1), Tony decides to get some revenge by bringing the kid to California to see how the other side lives

First order of business: a tailored suit. Peter stands awkwardly while an elderly man takes his measurements and adjusts his posture. "Which side do you dress?" he asks. Peter's eyebrows crinkle, "um, I dress all my sides?" Tony snorts. "No Pete, he's asking which side your di—" "OH"

They take the private jet of course. "I've actually done this part you know Mr. Stark," he tells him smugly. "Yes I do know, Happy complained about it for 20 minutes after we dropped you off. Do you even have a passport?" "Nope!"

Tony's Audi R8 is waiting for them in the parking lot in all its hot red glory. Tony tosses Peter the keys. "Really!?" "All part of the experience kid. Wait till you get on those long Malibu roads, bet we can watch the sunset on the beach if you step on it."

Peter does in fact step on it. Tony regrets ever opening his mouth. "I thought you said you had your driver's license!" "I do! Well, learner's permit. Y'know Spider-Man stole a car once. It was awesome." Tony tightens his grip on the seat.

Tony makes him pull over when he sees an ice cream shop. Peter is very excited to get a cone, and Tony is very excited that Peter made it this far without driving off a cliff. (Peter is not allowed to drive again)

They walk along the beach while they eat, Peter rolls up his pants and wades barefoot into the shoreline waves. As much as Tony planned this trip to get revenge on Peter for the chaotic day in New York, he can't help but smile at the boy's contentment

-When they get to the mansion Peter takes it upon himself to look into every single room. "That's a linen closet." "IT'S THE SIZE OF MY BEDROOM."

There are five guest rooms. One has a foosball table and mini fridge, another with a tv the size of a wall. there are two downstairs and two in a separate upstairs hallway. Tony tells Peter to pick whatever one he wants... he picks the room right across from Tony's (he should have expected that)

They hit LA the next day. "You didn't bring a hat or something?" "No, why?" Tony hands him a pair of his ostentatious sunglasses. "Borrow these." Peter wears them on their way to get lunch and it becomes clear very quickly why when within 20 minutes there are half a dozen paparazzi following them and snapping photos while yelling questions

"Mr. Stark who are you with?" "Stark what are your thoughts on the floods in Libya" "young man what is your name?" "hey kid how do you know Stark?" "Mr. Stark is this your illegitimate son?" "what does Ms. Potts think about your past sexual history?" "does this have anything to do with the child labour accusations against Stark industries?" Tony keeps his head up and continues walking down the street without pause when he speaks. "This young man is part of SI's intern program, and he's exceptional enough to work directly with me. No further questions please," and with that he grabs Peter's arm and pulls him into a cafe

"Woah," Peter says dizzily. "Yep." Tony replies simply

Tony orders them some sandwiches and smoothies—"14 dollars for a small?! What's it made of, gold?" Peter exclaims. Tony shrugs with a sip of the straw. "Probably, they put that stuff in everything nowadays. All it does is rack up the bill and stick to your teeth"

They don't spend too much time out before they need to go home and get ready for a charity gala. Tony watches in amusement as Peter struggles with his tie for five minutes before stepping in and tying it for him. He also puts on Peter's cufflinks for him. "These look expensive..." he examines the silver squares with a subtle P.P. monogram. "Meh, just six hundred." Peter balks while staring at the small accessory. "Mine were 3k," Tony says with a smirk, showing off his own cufflinks in a much more garish T.S. shape. Peter pales nauseously.

Peter sticks close to Tony in the large ballroom, shaking a dozen hands of old white men who all look the same and women who waddle around in their long dresses (Peter steps on one woman's train causing her to trip into a wobbly drunk woman, sending them both sprawling on the ground. Peter decides to inconspicuously speed walk away after brushing off the evidence of his footprint on the stiff fabric. Tony nearly gives him away with his laughter)

Peter grabs a glass of champagne at a waiter's offering, only to have it immediately taken from his hand by Tony. "Hey!" "you really thought I'd let you drink right in front of me?" Peter pauses. "Alcohol? I thought it was sparkling juice or something. Why'd the waiter give it to me, do I look 21 in a suit?" Tony scoffs at the hopeful flush to Peter's round cheeks. "Yeah no, but most aristocrats are alcoholics by 15 so the wait staff don't discriminate."

Tony orders him a virgin shirley temple from the bar and he's content

Peter later comes out of the bathroom with a stiff posture and quickly makes his way back to Tony. "Um, some people just offered me cocaine?" "did you take it?" "no..." "then we're good." Peter's eyebrows furrow as Tony moves on

"Here, you pick the amount," Tony says as he hands his checkbook and a pen to Peter. "Um, what is this for again?" Tony pauses. "Either youth literacy programs or LGBT suicide prevention." Peter shrugs and writes down 5000. Tony takes it back with a nod and then adds another zero

Tony doesn't say anything as Peter looks over the appetizers spread out on a white cloth table. Most of it is confusing or disgusting, and none of it looks very filling. He picks up something seemingly innocent, meat on a cracker. "I thought this was ham, but it's kind of greasy," he comments as he chews. Tony smirks at him. "It's foie gras." Peter stares at him blankly. "Duck or goose liver. They overfeed the birds to fatten them." Peter subtly spits it out into a cloth napkin that is way too nice to get dirty

They get burgers on the way home.

Later that evening Ned sends Peter a text with a TMZ article: Tony Stark and New Company Heir in LA. "You're in LA?!?? YOU'RE GONNA BE A CEO?" Peter face palms before texting back. "I'm boujee now Ned, don't talk to me again until your net worth is at least 3 mil"

[cod-dump]

In the teen ghost au, do Nik, Price, Graves etc guilty pleasure watch any of the cartoons the kids watch when they aren't home?

Like I bet because of all the pets they have, Nik probably really likes Pokemon and wishes he could be a pokemon trainer/professor so he watches it when he's home alone

Price outright refuses to admit he has any interest in the teen/kid shows that are often playing on the living room TV. He'll stand in the distance and watch, immediately leaving if any of the kids even acknowledge he's there.

Nik? He loves it. He loves the teen dramas and silly cartoons. He's caught up, he'll fill in Farah if she missed an episode. He knows the reruns of Pokémon schedules, him and Simon try to make a day of it if he isn't busy. Gary loves Pokémon, too, and Nik is all the more happy to have another kid to watch it with.

Gaz has rewatched Gilmore girls a million times, he's obsessed with the Office. Thanks to Farah he has Derry Girls playing in the background while he's doing homework. Price has found himself getting dragged into the sitcoms with him and they both just silently agreed to never talk about it with the rest of the family.

Graves admits he made fun of kid shows. Laughed at the plots and stupid humor in it. Then Gary all but forced him to start liking it. Graves now admits he loves some of these stupid shows. They had drastically changed his sense of humor and his Shadows are horrified by his dad humor.

Price watches some of these shows when he's on the road, away from prying eyes. Nik will outright have Pokémon or Derry Girls playing when the kids get home.

Graves is a cartoon kid of guy, he's introducing shows to Gary. Gary is now a cartoon connoisseur.

[vibelladonna]

✑ 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑜𝓎𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝜗𝜚 𝑔𝑒𝑜

· ─────── ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ─────── · 

Geo has officially become my second favorite character in Tkatb. As an asexual person writing about another asexual-coded character, I have to say—he makes me feel seen. It’s like he literally can’t take his eyes off me (and let’s face it, with Geo, that’s more intense than romantic).

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions.

But let’s be serious: I love him platonically. Sorry Brittany.

So, of course, I’ll share my headcanons about Geo, some shared by other fans, and even a few from the game’s lore. And no, before you ask, I won’t be writing about Sol in this “Type of Boyfriend” trope. He’s the obvious main choice in the game, and countless talented writers have already explored that lane. 

Geo, however? His quiet, unsettling stares deserve its moment in the spotlight.

Okay, so let’s talk about Geo as a boyfriend. First of all, congratulations on making that happen. Like, seriously, how did you pull it off? 

Because let’s be real, Geo is not the type to just open his heart to anyone. This man’s walls are practically made of steel, and I’m sure it took some serious patience, persistence, and probably some sorcery to get him to even consider letting you in.

But hey, you did it. So now you’ve got yourself the most stoic, broody, and incredibly hot boyfriend. So let’s break it down! 

✑ The Silent Observer

Like said, getting close to Geo? Oh man, that was like trying to break into a vault without the code. And let’s be honest, at first, you probably weren’t even trying to get to him—he just happened to be standing there while you were hanging out with Crowe. But of course, Geo being Geo, he’d hit you with those cold, piercing stares that made you question every single life choice.

And don’t even get me started on his bluntness. He’s the definition of the strong, silent type. He only speaks when he thinks something needs to be said, which means you’re never getting any filler or small talk from him. It’s not that he’s rude—he just values words and doesn’t see the point in wasting them. 

He’d just say it. Straight up. No filter. 

However, he does talk—pretty much one sentence though, it’s worth listening to because you’ll quickly realize how sharp he is. Geo’s intelligence and observant nature are on another level too… 

The kind of observant where he notices *everything*. He’s like that one friend who knows all the drama without ever saying a word. While Brittany would spill the tea loudly and proudly, Geo keeps it all locked away in that steel trap of a brain. He’s always watching, analyzing, and probably always two steps ahead. It’s part of what makes him such a great strategist but also why he’s so cautious about trusting anyone.  

So, instead of running for the hills like most people would, you stayed. And that’s probably what made him start noticing you. You didn’t back off, didn’t try to change him, just kind of… stuck around. 

Geo doesn’t do well with people who push or pry, so the fact that you respected his space but still showed up? Yeah, that got to him. Even if he’d never admit it out loud.

What’s wild is that he notices everything. Stuff you didn’t even realize about yourself? Yeah, he’s clocked it already. He’s the kind of guy who remembers your favorite drink, the way you twirl your hair when you’re stressed, or even the exact date you mentioned something offhand weeks ago. It’s almost unsettling how much he takes in, but it’s also one of the ways he shows how much he cares.

He’s not the type to constantly shower you with compliments or grand gestures, but his quiet, steady presence speaks volumes. Geo’s the guy who will fix something for you before you even realize it’s broken or offer exactly what you need without you having to ask. 

And when he does open up or say something heartfelt? You know it’s real because he doesn’t just say things lightly.

✑ Low-key Romantic

Okay, let’s get real—Geo is not the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. If anything, he’s probably got it locked up in a box somewhere with a “Do Not Disturb” sign slapped on it. But here’s the thing: when Geo cares, he cares. Like, no half-measures. 

Once he lets someone in—which is a feat on its own—you have his full, unwavering loyalty. And let’s be honest, why would Geo want anyone else? He’s not the type to hop from person to person—when he chooses you, he chooses you.

I’m pulling his asexual card here because it just fits. Geo isn’t about flashy romance or grand declarations. For him, love isn’t in the words or PDA—mind you he HATES PDA—it’s in the quiet, consistent ways he shows up for you. He wouldn’t just call you his partner; he’d treat you like you’re the most important person in his life, even if he doesn’t say it outright.

And the way he shows his affection? It’s all in the details. Geo is hyper-observant—he probably knows you better than you know yourself. 

Again, he’ll pick up on the smallest things, like how you take your coffee or tea, the way your eyes light up when you’re excited, or how you’re always talking about that one book or game you’re obsessed with. And he’ll use that information to make your day in ways that feel effortless.

Expect random, thoughtful surprises. Maybe your favorite snacks just happen to appear on your desk when you’re having a rough day, or you’ll find tickets to that movie you’ve been dying to see in your bag without him saying a word. He’s not going to make a big deal about it either—he’ll just shrug it off like it’s no big deal, but deep down, he’s paying attention to every detail that makes you you.

Geo’s love language is subtle, sure, but it’s also steady and reliable. 

You won’t always see it coming, but you’ll feel it in the way he’s always quietly there for you, no matter what.

✑ Protective But Not Overbearing

Oh, Geo’s hella protective—like, protective to the point where you know he’s got your back no matter what. But don’t think for a second he’s the clingy or overbearing type. Nah, that’s not his style. 

He’s more of a silent sentinel kind of guy, keeping a close eye on everything while letting you do your thing. He trusts you to handle yourself, and honestly? That trust speaks volumes. He knows you’re capable, and he’s not about to baby you or hover like some overprotective shadow.

But let’s get one thing straight—if someone crosses the line with you? Game over. Geo might seem calm and composed most of the time, but when it comes to defending you, that sharp tongue of his comes out swinging. 

And let’s not forget the fact that he’s an archer. I’m just saying, if someone pushes too far, they’d better pray they’re not anywhere near a target. He wouldn’t need to say much—one cold glare, one well-aimed shot at a bullseye, and everyone around would get the message.

What’s even better is that Geo doesn’t make a scene about it. He’s not the type to start unnecessary drama or puff up his chest to prove something. He’ll shut down any nonsense with a few carefully chosen words or, if it comes to it, an intimidating presence that leaves no room for argument. 

He’s protective, yeah, but it’s in this quiet, no-nonsense way that just makes you feel safe without feeling suffocated.

And honestly? That balance is rare. He’s like your personal bodyguard without the need for the over-the-top theatrics. It’s not about control—it’s about making sure you know you’re valued and looked out for. 

And for Geo, that’s everything.

✑ A Hidden Heart

Geo’s not the type to be up in your face 24/7. Nah, for him, it’s all about quality over quantity. He’s perfectly fine with spending an hour sitting next to you in total silence, maybe reading or just walking side by side. 

You don’t even have to talk—he’s not big on words anyway. It’s the connection that matters to him, not the setting or how much time you spend together. 

To Geo, a quiet moment shared between just the two of you means more than any loud party or over-the-top date night ever could.

Now, let’s talk about Geo’s bluntness. We all know he’s sharp-tongued, unfiltered, and way too honest for his own good. It’s kind of his thing. But when it comes to you? That edge softens, and he tries—tries being the keyword here—to rein it in. He’s still going to tell you exactly what he thinks because, let’s be real, that’s just who he is. 

But with you, he’ll make the effort to phrase things more gently. You’re one of the very few people who gets that version of him, and let’s be honest, that’s kind of special. You get to see the side of him that’s not all sharp remarks and icy glares, the side that actually cares.

And while Geo might seem like this stoic, broody guy who doesn’t let anything faze him, he’s secretly a total softie when it comes to you. Again, he’s not going to smother you with hugs or drown you in words of comfort when you’re upset—that’s not his style. He’s not like Crowe T-T.

But he’ll be there. 

Sitting beside you when you’re crying, quietly handing you tissues, letting you lean on his shoulder without a word. He listens, like really listens, and you can feel his presence grounding you even when he doesn’t say much.

It’s not that Geo doesn’t care—he just shows it in his own way. A quiet walk, a softened tone, a steady shoulder to lean on. With Geo, love isn’t loud or flashy. It’s steady, subtle, and completely genuine.

✑ Tailored to You

Geo and the five love languages? Well… Spoiler alert: this man is low-key okay at all of them, even if he’ll never admit it.

— Words of Affirmation? 

So… Compliments? Yeah, don’t hold your breath. He’s not going to gush about how you’re the most incredible person on the planet. 

But when he does say something nice? Oh, it means something. If Geo tells you, “That was impressive,” just know he’s basically screaming, “I’m so proud of you” on the inside. And if you ever compliment him? Expect a half-hearted shrug and a muttered, “I guess,” but deep down, you know he’s preening like a cat that just caught a mouse.

— Acts of Service? 

This is where Geo shines. He’s not going to say, “I love you” outright, but he’ll carry your bag, or make sure you’re eating when you’ve had a rough day. 

Dating Geo means having someone who sees you, even when you think no one else does. He’s a protector, a confidant, and someone who keeps things real—all wrapped up in a broody, mysterious package. 

Need something heavy moved? Done. Can’t open a jar? No problem. He’s like a one-man life support system, quietly taking care of you while pretending it’s no big deal.

— Receiving Gifts?

Geo doesn’t do flashy gifts, but when he gives you something? It’s weirdly specific and thoughtful. Like, you’ll casually mention liking a certain anything once, and boom—it’s sitting in front of your door the next day. He’ll pretend it’s not a big deal, though. “Oh, I just saw it at the store,” he’ll say, even though you know he went out of his way to get it.

— Quality Time?

This one is Geo’s bread and butter. He’s all about meaningful moments. Forget big group hangouts or extravagant plans—he’d rather spend a quiet evening with you, just existing in the same space. You could be doing something as mundane as grocery shopping, and he’d still find a way to make it feel special. And if you’re both just sitting in silence, reading or scrolling on your phones? That’s peak romance for him.

— Physical Touch?

All right, let’s be real—Geo isn’t big on touchy-feely stuff. He’s the type to freeze up if someone hugs him unexpectedly. But with you? He warms up to it. He’s still awkward as hell at first, but over time, he’ll start initiating small touches—a hand on your shoulder, brushing hair out of your face, or even holding your hand when no one’s looking. And if you hug him? He’ll grumble about it, but he secretly loves it.

In conclusion? Geo’s love language is basically Geo Language—quiet, understated, and 100% tailored to you. He’s not going to shout his feelings from the rooftops, but if you pay attention, his actions scream, “You’re my person, and I’m not letting you go.”

✑ Tailored to Him

So you wanna know Geo’s love languages? As unique as he is and if we had to rank them, here’s the holy trinity that makes this stoic archer tick:

Geo is an independent guy, but even the most self-sufficient people need someone who understands them. He craves someone who respects his need for space but knows when to step in with the right kind of support.

— Acts of Service (His #1, obviously)

Geo isn’t the type to ask for help—he’s too independent for that. But when you step in and do something thoughtful for him without being asked? 

That’s how you win this man over. 

He’s got this quiet appreciation for when people notice the little things, like brewing him tea when he’s had a rough day or cleaning up his gear after practice. Bonus points if you surprise him with something related to his hobbies, like a rare Japanese opera recording or a new pot for one of his plants. Acts of service show him that you’re paying attention, and trust me, he notices.

— Quality Time

Geo doesn’t want loud, over-the-top outings or big social gatherings. In fact, the less noise and chaos, the better. What he really craves is quiet, intentional moments with someone who just gets him. 

Sitting together in a cozy home, tending to his potted plants, or watching the intricate art of shadow puppetry—these are the things that speak to his soul. Geo thrives in these quiet spaces where he can relax, reflect, and enjoy meaningful companionship. 

Just don’t interrupt if he’s hyper-focused on something. He’ll side-eye you into another dimension.

— Receiving Gifts

Okay, hear me out—Geo hates getting gifts, right? I mean, he literally burned the random Valentine’s Day presents people gave him that one time. Absolute menace behavior, but honestly? It’s kind of funny in a this-man-does-not-care way. But here’s the twist: Geo’s not against all gifts. He’s just very particular.

See, he doesn’t want over-the-top, flashy stuff. No giant teddy bears, love letters, heart-shaped balloons, or anything that screams “cliché.” If you even think about giving him something generic, he’ll give you that deadpan look that could shrivel your soul. However, thoughtful, personalized gifts? 

That’s a whole different story.

Picture this: you show up with a sleek, modern pot for one of his beloved plants, or maybe a rare variety of seeds that he hasn’t gotten his hands on yet. Geo would never say it out loud, but inside? He’s lowkey impressed. Or let’s say you score him tickets to a Japanese opera—something you know he’d appreciate but would never bother getting for himself. Now, that would leave him quietly staring at you like, “…You actually get me.”

And don’t even get me started on shadow puppetry. If you found a book about advanced techniques or a vintage lamp to use for creating the perfect shadows? You’d probably see the faintest flicker of a smile—like, barely there, but it counts.

With Geo, it’s not about spending a ton of money or going big. It’s about showing that you know him—that you’ve paid attention to his quirks, his hobbies, and the things that make him tick. When the gift reflects his personality and interests? 

That’s when you see the softer side of him, the part of him that’s secretly thinking, “How did I end up with someone like this?”

And yeah, he might not say that, because Geo and verbal affection are basically strangers. But the way he takes care of that plant pot or treasures that opera ticket? 

That’ll tell you everything you need to know.

✑ Cultural Depth 

Geo’s all about his Japanese roots, but he doesn’t go around making a big deal about it. It’s in the small things—the quiet traditions he carries, the way he’ll casually drop some next-level cultural knowledge.

— Sharing His World (Quietly)

Geo isn’t the type to throw you into the deep end of his culture, but if you hang around him long enough, he’ll start to let you in. It’s like a slow reveal in a really good book—you don’t even realize you’re getting hooked until you’re deep into it. 

He’ll start small, teaching you a word or two in Japanese. Nothing too complicated at first—basic phrases like arigatou or ohayou. God writing this is killing me…

But if you’re patient (and don’t butcher the pronunciation), he might hit you with the poetic, meaningful stuff. Like, “The moon tonight reminds me of home,” kind of poetic.

And food? Oh, he’s low-key a food snob, but in the best way. If he takes you out for sushi, don’t embarrass him by drowning it in soy sauce, okay? He might roll his eyes, but deep down, he’ll think you’re a lost cause. 

Bonus points if you ask him to show you how to make something traditional, though. Watching him calmly explain how to roll onigiri while being so exact about it? Weirdly cute.

— Secret Nerd Side

Geo doesn’t advertise it, but he has a soft spot for traditional Japanese arts. Shadow puppetry? Yeah, that’s a thing he knows. He won’t just show you for fun, though—you’ll have to ask and even then, it’s going to be, like, the most casual display ever. He’ll make a crane with his hands in the middle of a quiet moment, the shadow falling perfectly on the wall, and act like it’s no big deal. 

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, wondering if he’s secretly an 80-year-old trapped in a hot college guy’s body.

Oh, and don’t even get him started on Japanese opera. It’s his go-to when he needs to vibe or think. You might catch him with his headphones in, looking all stoic, and he’s probably listening to something hauntingly beautiful and dramatic. But good luck getting him to admit it.

✑ Such Spa Days

If there’s one thing you should know about Geo, it’s that he takes self-care very seriously. This man isn’t just about keeping clean—he’s practically the ambassador of flawless skin. His routine is a whole event, and don’t even think about interrupting it unless you want to be met with one of his signature cold stares.

Geo’s all about precision, from his perfectly tied low ponytail to his smooth, glowing complexion that looks like it came straight out of a skincare ad. He’s the guy who has a shelf full of serums, toners, face masks, and creams, all neatly organized by purpose and ingredient list. Oh, and he definitely uses products with names you can’t pronounce but that sounds expensive. He’s from the rich side of the society anyway…

Sunday nights? They’re sacred. You’ll find Geo in full spa mode, complete with a fluffy towel draped over his shoulders and maybe even some calming Japanese opera music playing softly in the background. He’ll light a candle (something subtle, probably sandalwood or green tea) and go through his routine like it’s a religious ceremony. Cleansing, exfoliating, masking—he’s got it all down to a science.

And don’t get him started on baths. Geo’s baths are an experience. He’ll fill the tub with just the right temperature water, toss in some herbal bath salts or a soothing bath bomb, and relax like he’s starring in a luxurious retreat commercial. He even has a book propped up nearby or maybe a cup of tea to complete the vibe.

The best part? Geo’s love for spa days isn’t just about himself—it’s an extension of his personality. He values control and discipline, and his skincare routine is a reflection of that. Every step, every product, is carefully chosen because it’s his way of staying grounded in a chaotic world.

Now, if you’re lucky enough to be part of his life, he might invite you into his sacred self-care space. Don’t expect anything over the top, though. Geo’s not going to gush about it, but he’ll casually hand you a face mask or suggest a product he thinks you’ll like. It’s his way of saying, “I care,” without actually saying it.

But be warned—if you touch his stuff without asking, he’ll probably give you a look that could freeze fire. He’s protective of his skincare collection, and for good reason. You’ll never forget the day you used his serum without permission and had to endure a five-minute lecture about “proper application techniques” while he looked genuinely offended.

Now, let’s get one thing straight: Geo’s devotion to skincare doesn’t just stop with himself. Oh no, if you’re doing it wrong, he will notice—and he will step in.

Say you’re casually applying his skincare collection one day, just slapping it on like it’s sunscreen at the beach. Geo, from across the room, will stop dead in his tracks, narrow his aquamarine eyes, and calmly say, “What are you doing?” in a tone that sends shivers down your spine. Before you can even protest, he’s already approaching with that look—the one that says, “I didn’t want to get involved, but you’ve left me no choice.”

Geo doesn’t offer to fix your skincare routine; he takes over. He’s not the type to sugarcoat it either. “You’re wasting product,” he’ll mutter, carefully squeezing the perfect amount of serum onto his fingertips before gently patting it into your skin. “And you’re supposed to press it in, not rub it like you’re sanding wood.”

And honestly? He’s ridiculously good at it. His hands are steady, his movements precise, and for someone who doesn’t talk much, he somehow explains every step with just enough detail to make you realize how little you knew about skincare to begin with.

Geo is not one for half-measures, so don’t be surprised when he starts rearranging your entire routine. Suddenly, you’ve got a multi-step process you never asked for, complete with double cleansing, toners, serums, and a nightly mask rotation. You didn’t even know what a niacinamide serum was before, but now you have one, and you’re using it correctly, thank you very much.

The funniest part? Geo never complains about doing your skincare. He acts mildly exasperated, sure, but you catch the tiniest flicker of pride when your skin starts glowing like his. 

And while he’d never admit it out loud, he secretly likes having an excuse to take care of you. It’s his way of showing he cares without all that messy emotional talk.

But if you dare to slack off? Oh, you’ll hear about it. “You didn’t put on sunscreen today, did you?” he’ll ask, his tone low and judgmental as he crosses his arms. “Don’t come crying to me when you age prematurely.” And yet, despite all the teasing, he’ll still hand you his favorite SPF because, deep down, he can’t stand the idea of you not taking care of yourself.

At the end of the day, Geo’s skincare obsession isn’t just about looking good—it’s about discipline, self-respect, and now, begrudgingly, making sure you’re glowing just as much as he is. 

In the end, Geo’s love for spa days isn’t just a quirky habit—it’s part of what makes him who he is. It’s his way of maintaining balance, staying composed, and, let’s be honest, looking damn good while doing it. 

✑ So Damn Competitive

Don’t let Geo’s stoic, “I’m too cool to care” vibe fool you—this man is surprisingly competitive. Like, you’d think someone who’s all about calm and control wouldn’t get riled up over a board game, right? Wrong. The moment you pull out a board game or even a deck of Uno cards, you’re witnessing a transformation. Same too…

Geo doesn’t just play to win—he plays to crush. He’s not loud about it, though. Oh no, Geo’s trash talk is subtle but devastating. “That’s an… interesting move,” he’ll say, his aquamarine eyes glinting with quiet smugness as he places his piece exactly where it’ll ruin your entire strategy. And let’s not even get started on trivia night. This man has an encyclopedic knowledge of random facts, and he’ll flex it in the most deadpan way possible.

But here’s the best part: Geo will let you win sometimes—just don’t expect him to admit it. He’ll subtly fumble a move in Jenga or conveniently “forget” the answer to a question during trivia, all while keeping that unreadable poker face. If you call him out on it? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he’ll say, completely straight-faced, as if he didn’t just let the tower fall on purpose.

The funniest part is how petty he can get when he doesn’t win. Like, say you beat him in a cooking challenge (because your pancakes were objectively fluffier). He won’t throw a fit, but you’ll catch him side-eyeing your plate like it personally offended him. “Your syrup-to-pancake ratio is off,” he might mutter under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

But his competitive streak isn’t all bad—it’s actually kind of adorable. If you’re struggling with something, Geo will quietly make it his mission to help you improve. 

Trying to get better at a sport? Let’s use Kyūdō, in other words, the Japanese martial art of archery. It started as you’d expect—Geo, all serious and instructor-like, standing behind you to adjust your posture, his hands steady as they guided yours. “Hold it like this,” he’d say, his tone calm and precise. You could tell he was in his element, and honestly? 

He’s kind of hot when he gets all focused like that.

At first, you weren’t great. The arrows went everywhere except the target and Geo’s quiet sighs of exasperation were hilarious. But instead of getting frustrated, he’d patiently explain what you were doing wrong, occasionally muttering things like, “It’s not that hard,” under his breath.

But then something shifted. One day, it just clicked. Suddenly, your arrows weren’t just hitting the target—they were landing dead center. 

Every. Single. Time.

Geo’s reaction? Priceless. He didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel his aquamarine eyes narrowing as he watched your shots. “Beginner’s luck,” he muttered, crossing his arms.

Except it wasn’t luck. You kept getting better. So much better, in fact, that you started beating him.

The first time it happened, you expected him to be annoyed. But instead, he just stared at the target, then at you, and said, “You’ve been practicing without me.” (Spoiler: You hadn’t.)

From then on, Geo challenges you to little games—first one to hit three bullseyes, trick shots, you name it. And every time you won, you’d catch that subtle crease in his brow like he couldn’t quite believe it.

But despite his bruised ego, Geo was secretly proud of you. You’d catch him smiling—just barely—when you weren’t looking, and if anyone else tried to challenge you? Oh, he’d brag like crazy. “She’s the best shot here,” he’d say, completely deadpan, like he wasn’t lowkey sulking about the fact that you’d surpassed him.

Watching Geo try to outshoot you while pretending he wasn’t bothered was half the fun, you know it’s eating him up inside. “Good game,” he’ll say, his tone perfectly neutral, while internally plotting his revenge for next time.

 It’s all part of the charm, though. 

✑ You’re His Safe Space

Okay, I know—Geo and PDA? They’re not exactly besties. He’s not the guy to be all over you in public; in fact, he hates it.

Holding hands? Brings too much attention.

Kisses in front of people? Absolutely not.

He’s got that whole “reserved and composed” thing going on, and the idea of being openly mushy in front of others? Yeah, hard pass.

But here’s the plot twist: when it’s just the two of you? Total cling mode.

When Geo’s guard is down, he’s secretly so affectionate it’s almost like a plot twist you didn’t see coming. Imagine this: you’re just minding your own business—maybe reading, scrolling on your phone, or binge-watching something—and out of nowhere, you feel his arms snake around you. He doesn’t say a word; he just pulls you close, resting his chin on your shoulder or burying his face in your hair like it’s his personal safe haven.

It’s his way of saying, “You’re my peace,” without actually having to string the words together. Subtle? Yes. Effective? Absolutely.

Geo isn’t heartless—not by a long shot. He cares so much, he just doesn’t always know how to package those feelings into neat little boxes with bows on top. He’s the type to skip the love letters and dramatic proclamations and go straight to showing you how much you mean to him.

Actions over words, always.

And okay, let’s be real—some of us can relate to that. Maybe feelings aren’t the easiest thing to express, so we see a bit of ourselves in Geo. It’s not that he’s cold or distant; he’s just navigating his emotions in his own quiet way. And when he finally lets his guard down? That’s when you see his true colors.

After pulling you close, Geo turns you around, his hands lingering gently on your arms. His touch is feather-light, deliberate, as though he’s giving you a moment to realize what’s happening. He pauses, his fingers brushing against your lips in a way that sends a quiet thrill down your spine.

His eyes lock onto yours for a heartbeat—then they drop to your lips, lingering there just long enough for you to feel the tension in the air. When his gaze meets yours again, there’s something unspoken in his expression, a question he doesn’t need to say out loud: Is this okay?

And then, he leans in. It’s not rushed or overly dramatic; it’s a simple, slow movement like he wants to savor every second. His lips meet yours softly at first, testing, then growing a little firmer as he presses closer. It’s the kind of kiss that says a thousand things he wouldn’t dare put into words—trust, vulnerability, and a quiet kind of devotion he’s still figuring out how to show.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and steady as he lingers there for a moment. It’s like time stops, and nothing else matters except the two of you in that little bubble of intimacy.

Geo’s not about grand gestures or big, romantic speeches. But this? This is his way of telling you everything. His actions speak volumes, and each small touch, each lingering look, is filled with a kind of tenderness that words could never capture.

And maybe that’s the most Geo thing about him—he doesn’t need to shout his love from rooftops or drown you in cliché romance. Instead, he gives you moments like this. Moments that feel raw, honest, and entirely yours. Moments where he silently tells you, “You’re my world,” without ever saying a word.

Trust me, it’s worth the wait.

✑ Flaws? There’s a few…

Now nobody’s perfect—not even our polished, broody archer. Geo’s got his fair share of flaws, and honestly? They add to his charm in that I-don’t-know-why-I-like-this-but-I-do kind of way. 

First of all, he’s stubborn as hell. Geo’s stubbornness could rival a brick wall and spoiler: you’re not winning an argument against him. Once his mind is made up, that’s it—game over. Whether it’s something as simple as how to fold laundry (he has a system) or something as big as life choices, he sticks to his guns like they’re glued to him. 

Convincing him to budge? Good luck; you’ll need it.

Second, he doesn’t believe in second chances. Mess up once, and that’s it—you’re done. Geo’s not the type to forgive and forget; it’s more like, “You did what? Cool, don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” He’s incredibly selective about who he lets in, so if someone breaks his trust, they’re out for good. 

It’s harsh, but for Geo, it’s about protecting himself.

Third, picky with a Capital P. Geo’s the kind of person who knows exactly what he wants, and if something doesn’t meet his standards? Nope. He’s picky about everything—his appearance (always flawless), his environment (no mess, no chaos), and even the people he surrounds himself with. 

If you’re lucky enough to pass his “quality control,” congrats, you’ve made it to the inner circle.

Lastly, Geo’s got walls on walls. He’s not about to open up to just anyone, and even once he does, it’s a slow process. He’s constantly watching, analyzing, and second-guessing people’s intentions. It takes someone special to get through that, and even then, he might still keep certain things locked away.

So, What Does This All Mean?

Geo’s flaws can make him seem intimidating and hard to approach, but they’re also part of what makes him so uniquely him. His stubbornness shows his determination, and his lack of second chances highlights how much he values loyalty and his pickiness. Well, it’s just another way he shows that he’s got high standards—whether for himself or the people around him.

At the end of the day, Geo’s trust issues are a double-edged sword. They make him fiercely loyal to the people he *does* trust, but they also mean it takes a long time for him to get there. 

Still, if you’ve made it into his inner circle, congrats—you’re probably one of the few people he truly feels safe with. And that? That’s priceless.

Is he perfect? Nope. 

But would we want him any other way? Not.

✑ Thoughts + Ranting

Okay, let’s get this out of the way again: Geo has serious trust issues. And honestly? Can you blame the guy? He’s been through (we don’t know about) so much that his walls aren’t just up—they’re basically a fortress complete with a moat, a drawbridge, and probably a dragon or two guarding the gate.  

Here’s the deal: nobody really knows Geo. Like, we know he’s loaded, he’s ridiculously good with a bow, and he has a death glare that could probably stop traffic. But beyond that? Nothing. It’s like his life story is classified information, and we’re all just stuck guessing what’s in the classified files.  

So anyway, Geo used to be High Class—fancy, untouchable, the whole package—but then bam some kind of near-accident happened, and he got booted down to the Low-Class building. Can you imagine the whiplash? Going from being at the top of the food chain to the bottom? That kind of thing doesn’t just bruise your ego; it leaves emotional scars. 

And let’s be real, Geo doesn’t exactly strike me as the type to sit down and talk about his feelings and thoughts.

And then there’s Hyugo, Geo’s stepbrother and certified mortal enemy. 

If you’ve played the game, you already know the vibes. Mention Hyugo’s name around Geo, and boom—instant disgust. Like, man doesn’t even try to hide it. His whole face scrunches up like he just smelled expired milk. And then, he hits you with the classic, “Nope, we’re not talking about that.” No explanation, no backstory, just vibes. It’s lowkey hilarious how much he’s committed to pretending Hyugo doesn’t even exist. For me.

I feel like Hyugo has something to do with Geo’s big fall from High Class. Like, maybe Hyugo was the one who caused whatever accident messed up Geo’s status. Was it on purpose? Was it an accident? Who knows! But Geo clearly decided, “Yeah, you’re dead to me.” Now, the name “Hyugo” might as well be a four-letter word in Geo’s dictionary.

And then there’s Crowe—the only person Geo actually trusts. And you know that didn’t happen overnight. Crowe probably had to work overtime, chipping away at Geo’s defenses like he was mining for gold. It was probably like:

Crowe: “Hey, let’s be friends.” Geo: Stares in suspicion for six months straight. Crowe: “Alright, cool, I’ll wait.”

If it took Crowe that long to get through, what does that mean for literally anyone else? Good luck, because Geo ain’t handing out trust like candy.

Now, let’s talk about you. Geo doesn’t say much to you, but the way he just… stares at you? Constantly? It’s like he’s trying to solve some crime scene in his head and you’re the number-one suspect. You’re just standing there like, “Uh, did I do something wrong? Or do I just look suspicious?”

Honestly, it’s so awkward and funny. Like, dude, either spill whatever you need to say or stop looking at me like that. But nah, Geo’s gonna stay quiet, because why use words when you can silently judge someone instead?

That’s the Geo experience in a nutshell.

Maybe he doesn’t trust you because of something to do with Crowe—like, maybe he thinks you’re toying with Crowe’s feelings ouch, judgmental much?. Or—plot twist—he’s onto something way bigger. What if he already knows you’re being stalked by whatever creepy thing is lurking in the shadows, and he’s just keeping tabs to figure out why it’s after you?

Who knows?

But here’s the thing about Geo: in the game, he’s not super complicated to figure out. He’s more of a supporting character—like that mysterious friend everyone secretly simps for but who tragically isn’t dateable. Pain. He’s just this quiet, chill dude with sharp words, killer aim, and a ponytail that probably smells like fancy shampoo. And somehow, he’s still everyone’s type. Go figure.

So yeah, Geo’s like a locked box made of solid silver—fancy, mysterious, and absolutely refusing to open. Respect the whole “keeping it classy” vibe, but come on, man—just crack the lid a little!

We’re starving for answers!

· ─────── ⋆⋅♤⋅⋆ ─────── ·

[minlcna]

mcgonagall's ball lessons | george. f. weasley

george weasley x muggle!fem!reader

note: i know it's been a while since i posted..tbh i lost my momentum in writing and posting and lost my inspo as well. i can't say that i love this but it's been in the drafts long enough. im thinking of starting to tkae requests but im not sure if yall want that lmk in the comments! otherwise enjoy this

synopsis: you dance with george once and all the of the sudden rumors zoom around faster than a snitch

george w

warnings: one swear word, punching pansy and draco, mentions of having kids/contraceptives (?)

word count: 2.7k

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

The Yule Ball was its utmost effort for arriving, and today was the day Professor McGonagall, in all her glory, was to teach all eligible Gryfidors how to dance. 

"The Yule ball has been a tradition of..." she started, raiding her voice, warning Flich of his tampering with the gramophone. 

"...the Triwizard tournament since its inception. On Christmas Eve night, our guests and we gather in the great hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity."

"As representation of the host school, I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward. And I mean this literally because the Yule is, first and foremost, a dance. 

Chatter and grumbling broke out instantly. You exchanged knowing glances with Alicia next to you. This could go either two ways: really bad or just bad enough. 

"Silence," she called with strictness. 

"The house of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the Wizard World for nearly 10 centuries. I will not have you in the course of a 

behaving like a babbling bumbling band of baboons," she continued. 

You saw George lean over to Fred, and you saw the lips mimicking the shapes of McGonagall, treating her words like tongue twisters. You pursued your lips to hold in your smile. 

"Now, to dance is to let the body breathe. Inside every girl is a secret sworn Slumbers longing to burst off and take flight, and inside every boy is a lordly lion prepared to prance," she trailed off as she noticed George and Fred mumbling. 

"Mr. Weasley, it was so kind of you to volunteer. Now, from the ladies, who will it be?" she questioned as her eyes trailed face to face down the row. 

You pretended to reach into your nonexistent pocket, trying to appear busy and unsuitable choice. 

"Miss L/N, please make your way to the center." she smiled. 

You inwardly grimaced, which also showed outwardly, as evidenced by your friends' giggles and teasing eyes. You slowly stood up and made your way to the center before George. 

You weren't sure whether it had been the pressure of everyone watching and quite possibly waiting to make fun of any little thing or the fact that George Weasley looked exceptionally pretty up close. Like really pretty, really close. 

"Now, Mr. Weasley, grab L/N's waist with your right hand. No—that's your left hand—your right hand, yes." She directed patiently as the two of you awkwardly followed the directions. 

Your right hand had met with his left, and you had to slightly get on your tip toes for your left arm to grasp his shoulder comfortably. Giggles and whispers erupted as soon as your heels lifted on the ground. Your face flushed red in embarrassment. You knew your friends and the entire house of Godric wouldn't let you forget this. You were not short by any means; the Weasley twin was just too tall. 

As if the giggles and uncomfortable position of standing on your toes weren't enough to infuriate you, George smirked at your attempts to match his height and pace. You had been caught off guard when the music suddenly started playing, and rather than swaying, you had been being pulled and jerked from your position. 

Unfortunately, Godric's heavy pride coursed through you, and your determination flooded to prove yourself to the already full-on snickers and cackles, the loudest recognizably being Alicia's.

"Relax a bit, will ya, love? My hands fall off," he whispered discreetly in your ears, and your face flushed darker than George's hair. 

Thankfully, Professor Mcgonallal ceased your embarrassment by stopping you halfway and pairing everyone to learn. Each second felt excruciating, as it was the very first time you held hands with a guy—a handsome guy. 

You swore you heard Professor Mcgognall join in the giggles when you walked beside your friends, noting her eyes follow George with Fred right behind. You wondered if she knew. 

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

By the time the period had ended, the entire castle had heard how the Gryffindor dance lessons proceeded. Probably record time, probably faster than anyone could ever say Merlin's saggy left bollock. 

You were already tired of Alicia and Angelina trying to match you with George despite your neverending denials of being passionately in love with him until death from just dancing with him. Now, the entire school had joined in on it. You could only grumble and protest under your breath as you became the castle's favorite gossip pastime.

Of course, the Slytherins took a rumor and ran with it. They had found a new way to taunt the Weasleys and a new toy to torment them. Any other nemesis of the twins also took part. 

One instance was when you had been rushing off to grab breakfast leftovers when you heard, "Running to meet Weasley, eh? Should've gotten up earlier to snog him in time for breakfast!"

Your first strategy was to ignore and flip people off. That hadn't been enough because the sneers got worse. You avoided any signs of ginger hear throughout the castle. The scarce accounts of you locking eyes with Geroge, and he had just given a curt nod with his permanent smirk. 

You couldn't help but scoff. Fred had helped defend you once or twice, but that was it. It's all his fault, and all he does is laugh.

You couldn't help but direct your anger towards George. You knew it was heavily misplaced, but you couldn't do anything. No amount of insults, swearing, or mummy/daddy abuses ceased the talks. If only they made it worse. 

You wanted to confront the redhead, but the words refused to form in your mind. Just the thought of speaking to him made your tongue feel heavy, and your cheeks flush with heat. Your fingers itched to intertwine with his warm ones, and your whole body yearned to be close to him. But as soon as those urges surfaced, you shook your head vigorously, side to side, until the world spun around you. Being dizzy was easier to endure than the whirlwind of those forbidden thoughts.

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

You were standing in the courtyard during one of the breaks, waiting for lunch, when a sharp pain exploded at the side of your forehead. A heavy glass vial had struck you, clattering to the ground after impact.

"Hey, L/N," a taunting voice drawled. "Might wanna grab some contraceptive potions before you sleep with Weasley, or you'll end up breeding more than gnomes."

You bent to pick up the vial, your fingers curling around the cool glass as your brows furrowed in confusion. Then the realization hit, and your expression hardened into a sharp glare. The vial contained an actual contraception potion from an apothecary. Spinning on your heel, you locked eyes with the culprit: a blonde smirking devilishly, flanked by his entourage, their snickers biting at your ears.

"I'd shut your mouth if I were you," you said through gritted teeth, voice low and deadly. "Unless you want that ugly goblin shit you call a nose smashed into your skull." Your grip on the vial tightened, your knuckles blanching.

Goyle erupted in a guttural laugh but quickly silenced himself when Malfoy shot him a glare. Around you, the crowd stirred—murmurs of excitement spreading like wildfire. More students trickled into the courtyard, drawn by the rising tension, their curiosity adding weight to the charged atmosphere.

"Oh yeah?" Malfoy sneered, his lips curling in mockery. "What are you going to do? Call your filthy blood traitor lapdog to defend you?"

Pansy Parkinson's shrill giggle cut through the air. "Draco's just trying to help, you stupid Mudblood. But it looks like you'll happily pop out another Quidditch team full of losers."

The words hit like a slap to the face, and before you realized it, the vial slipped from your fingers, and your fists were flying.

The first punch landed solidly against Malfoy's jaw, snapping his head to the side. The collective gasp of the crowd barely registered in your ears as rage overtook you, a red-hot wave that blurred the edges of your vision. He stumbled back, but you weren't finished. You swung again, this time catching, hitting Pansy's nose, and then again, letting every ounce of frustration and fury you'd bottled up over the past few weeks pour into each strike.

The courtyard erupted into chaos. Malfoy's lackeys tried to pull you off, but you shoved them away. His smug smirk was gone, replaced with a wide-eyed expression of fear and pain as he weakly raised an arm to shield himself.

The crowd surged, students yelling and cheering, their voices blending into a cacophony. You didn't care. All you could see was green—your vision clouded with pure, unrelenting anger. You kept swinging, your fists aching, but it didn'tmatter. The satisfaction of each hit was the only thing grounding you.

Finally, strong hands grabbed your arms, hauling you backward. You kicked and struggled, breath coming in ragged gasps as the adrenaline coursing through you demanded you keep fighting.

"As much as I'd love for you to beat him to a pulp, love, I don't want to see you expelled." the captor of your arms whispered. Your body froze instantly, and you tried to catch a glimpse of the speaker. You noticed red hair peeking through the corners of your eyes. 

"What in Godric's name is going on here?" the demanding voice asked, her sharp gaze cutting through the chaos. The crowd instantly silenced, students shrinking back under her scrutiny. Even Malfoy's friends, who had been so vocal moments ago, averted their eyes.

You froze, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath. The adrenaline still buzzed under your skin, but McGonagall's presence was like a cold bucket of water poured over you. Slowly, your fists unclenched, and you realized your knuckles were bruised and raw, faint smears of blood marking your fingers.

Professor McGonagall's lips thinned into a hard line. "Enough. Everyone—back to your business! This is not a spectator sport!" She turned her gaze back to you and Malfoy, her expression unrelenting. "The rest of you, to the Headmaster's office. Now."

Malfoy groaned as he struggled to his feet, favoring his side. "She attacked me!" he protested, his voice nasally and strained, no doubt from the blow you'd landed on his nose.

"And I have no doubt there's more to the story," McGonagall snapped, her tone brooking no argument. "But we'll deal with that where it's appropriate. Move along, Mr. Malfoy."

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

The altercation between Malfoy and his gang and you had been carefully investigated and justly judged. Professor McGonagall, despite her strict nature, was surprisingly in your favor. George had also vouched for you, following you into the rotating staircase despite your attempts to elbow him off. He called the harassment ruthless bullying. 

Parents were summoned, but despite them coming so, your highly modest and conservative mother refused to let the Parkinsons and Malfoys get a word out. To her, a lady's womanly issues were not to be discussed in the open nor ridiculed. 

With two strong defenders, your mother and your professor, you got away with just detention and could still participate in the ball.

୨୧‿‿‿ 𝜗𝜚 ‿‿‿୨୧

It was the first snow of the year, and you were trapped in the Hogwarts kitchen. You had detention every Saturday morning, wehre your task was to scrub cauldrons. You needed to buy the last bits of accessories for the ball but had asked Alicia to pick them up since you were busy scrubbing. 

Your fingers were numb from the rigor. As you brought the sponge towards you before pushing it forward, it shifted away from your hand. A frown accompanied by a tilted brow; you expected it to fall into the pot. Yet it continued to scrub and shell the cauldron—just like magic. 

The second the thought crossed your mind, your head swung in all directions. Your eyes met the fellow leaning on the door frame with crossed arms and wand out—the ever so familiar missions glint in eyes and smug smirk. 

"Hello, m'lady," he said as he went right before you. You tilted your head slightly to the side with a questioning look. 

"What?" he asked incredulously. 

"Why are you helping me? This is detention, you know," you replied, trying to gauge his purpose in visiting. 

"Yes, this is. As a man, I must, however, take responsibility for my lady's actions. You are, in fact, here because of me; is that not correct?" he replied more boisterously. 

Your cheeks burned, a combination of frustration and embarrassment.

“First of all, I’m not ‘your lady,’ and second, no one asked you to play knight in shining armor. I can scrub cauldrons perfectly fine on my own.”

George's grin widened, unfazed by your tone. “Oh, I can see that, love. You’re scrubbing so well, you’ve almost got that cauldron to sparkle like new.” He gestured to the pot that was now gleaming under the enchanted sponge’s tireless efforts. 

“But wouldn’t you rather spend your Saturday doing something less…” He paused, twirling his wand lazily, “…soul-crushing?”

You crossed your arms, glaring up at him. “And why would you care how I spend my Saturday?”

He shrugged, still smirking. “Call it a guilty conscience. Or maybe I just missed your company. You’ve been avoiding me ever since our little dance lesson, haven’t you?”

Your jaw tightened, the memory of that mortifying class flashing in your mind. “I haven’t been avoiding you,” you said stiffly.

“Oh no?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine.

“So it’s purely coincidence that every time I walk into a room, you suddenly remember an urgent errand in the opposite direction?”

You scowled, willing your heart to stop fluttering like a caged snidget. “Maybe I just don’t enjoy being the subject of every stupid joke in the castle, thanks to you.”

George’s expression softened, his smirk fading into something more genuine. “That wasn’t my intention, you know,” he said quietly. 

“I mean, I like a good laugh as much as the next bloke, but not at your expense.”

Your resolve faltered slightly, but you kept your arms crossed. “You didn’t exactly stop it, though, did you? All those rumors, all those stupid comments…”

“I didn’t stop it because I thought you could handle yourself,” George admitted, his gaze locking with yours. “You’reclever, tough, and brilliant. But maybe I underestimated how far people would take it.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and the warmth spreading through your chest was both comforting and infuriating. 

“Well,” you said finally, your tone softer than you intended, “maybe next time, don’t underestimate how annoying people can be.”

George chuckled, his usual mischief returning. “Duly noted. So, what do you say? Truce?” He extended his hand, his lopsided grin making your stomach flip.

You hesitated, eyeing his outstretched hand suspiciously. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, his grin widening. “Just a chance to make it up to you. Starting with getting you out of this dungeon and into the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer. My treat.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m still in detention, Weasley.”

“Details,” he said with a dismissive wave of his wand. “I’m a master of mischief, remember? If anyone asks, I’ll say I kidnapped you.”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugged at your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming,” he quipped, holding his hand out again.

This time, you took it—his hand warm and steady in yours. It was the second time you’d ever held a boy’s hand, and somehow, it felt like the first time it truly mattered.

Professor McGonagall watched from a shadowed corner of the kitchen, arms crossed, her lips twitching upward in an uncharacteristic smile.

"Ridiculously charming, indeed," she muttered softly to herself, adjusting her spectacles. "I always knew those two would find their way to each other."

With a final glance at the pair sneaking out of the dungeon, hand in hand, she turned briskly on her heel. Her work was done—for now. After all, guiding her Gryffindors, even in matters of the heart, was just another part of the job.

[a-coelacanth-makes-stuff]

(Note that it's about 2 am when I started writing this so I'll probably sound kinda incoherent, sorry-)

Some people just don't get that children are allowed to see blood sometimes, and that blood doesn't mean that a show isn't for kids or it being a kids show means it can have mature themes.

So many kids shows have no proper substance, nothing interesting, nothing kids can learn from. We need more shows with three dimensional characters that are a joy to see and watch grow, that teach us that we can grow.

Some that do that come to mind are(And keep in mind, I've not ever looked into the themes into these shows yet, but I do want to):

The Owl House, I was there when the last season aired, I almost grew with Luz, I have ADHD and (undiagnosed as it's difficult to get that here) autism, so I resonated with the Main character so much. I had an attachment to these characters, so much so that my otherkin self (trying not to curse) was Hunter for a couple hours when the first episode of season 3 aired! This show helped me get through some stuff with characters I related to and helped me grow, to understand I really didn't have to mask as much as I had been.

Amphibia, like Annie I felt out of place, so I latched onto that. She was like me, navigating a world not made for me. That ending was so bittersweet, about moving on in your own way.

Bluey. Have you seen how many people say it's helping them parent better, or heal their inner child, or teaching their kids to communicate better?

My Little Pony did something well, they had a story that compelled people to watch, to learn and understand the world and the characters as they grew. Yes, many points were for money *cough* EQG *cough* Flurry Heart *cough* but the show runners did what they could to make the fun pastel ponies appeal to those who like stories, those who wanted a brain off show, and Hasbro.

No, none were perfect, no show is, but that's the point. No show is perfect but at least they have substance, value, and a proper story that can teach.

I'm not saying put gore in kids shows, I'm saying kids shows with plot, substance, and meaning should be normalized and expected. Shows that tell a story and teach while they do it. The Dragon Prince has blood to show the plain severity of what Aaravos does. It is PG for a reason. It does these things to better tell a story, Aaravos gets trapped in the remains of his own daughter, to the GODS THERE IS A REASON FOR THAT!

The creators give nearly EVERY choice a reason. It pushes the story, it's morals, and/or the show to be better than it was, to teach its audience better, if they even listen in the first place.

Kids shows should be allowed and expected to take risks, tell scarier stories, to show blood either from teaching first aid or showing that a bad guy is bad. They should be expected to show these things where kids can ask their parents about it so they can learn and understand the material and perhaps even look back, remember that time their parent explained how grief can make people do terrible things or that someone you hate has someone who loves them or someone you love has someone who hates them, or that those you love do not do this and to let them know if it happens, then they go back to watch it with a new perspective from life.

Anyway, that's my two cents, but I'm a broke fish. It's 3 am and I need to sleep. Peace!

-=[🐟 ]=-

Recommending The Dragon Prince to people is weird, ‘cause like.

You have to tell them off the bat “there might be some blood. Don’t be surprised if there is.”

“Actually, expect blood. And a lot of it, maybe. Sometimes.”

“You know, the bloodshed is shockingly pretty plot relevant…”

And the thing is, they’re already skeptical of it. Because it’s a kid’s show.

But by telling them the more mature themes of the kid’s show, it just leaves them even more confused and off put by it.

“Wait, are you sure this is a kid’s show?”

“It can’t be. There’s just no way.”

Yes, I’m sure.

I don’t know how they get away with the stuff they can, they just can. I’m just letting you know that there is blood, even though it is a kid’s show, in case it might be upsetting.

And you’re right. Yes. It’s a kid’s show. It’s weird.

But that’s what makes it great and why I’m recommending it to you in the first place.

[cheri-2047]

I saw that your request are open

Possibly could you write Luka and an S/O headcannons?? Like the s/o or crush is a very bright person, who only looks into the bright side. ((Maybe also somewhat popular?? With a great voice etc?)

Take your time!! I love your work!!

Im the number one Luka lover!!! OFC ID WRITE THIS!! CHARACTERS: Luka, Mentions of Hyunwoo, Hyuna

Luka x Bubbly Reader Headcanons

Luka was...amused. Not in a bad way, but also not in a good way. He found it strange how a human in Anakt Garden was able to harbor such emotions, such cheerfulness as if they werent all destined to die.

He often watched from afar, spacing out while playing with Hyuna and Hyunwoo, just watching you.

As a kid, he never talked to you, but by accident you ended uo getting the feeling that he hated you. It wasnt until one day, you saw his owner Heperu throwing away his food tray in front of everyone else.

You watched as he stayed silent, being obedient, looking down at his lap. Once his owner left, he stood up and on his way to leave the cafeteria, you could tell he was extremely hungry. After all, he was the most starved out of everyone in Anakt Garden.

You run up to him, immediately pulling him down on the seat in front of you, and moving your tray to the middle of both of you.

"...?" he looks confused. He stares at it, wondering if you were gonna eat it in front of him just to rub salt in the wound, when in reality you were trying to feed him. You give him chopsticks and he eats very little portions (until you force him more).

He mutters a soft thank you, his hands fiddling with his sleeves, unsure how to show gratitude. He leaves the cafeteria.

That afternoon, he learns from hyuna how to make a flower crown. He leaves it on your music piece as a form of gratitude and the rest is history.

Now, both of you had grown very close. Because of your beauty and talent, you were spared from Alien Stage. Instead, the Aliens made you a popular model. Luka watched from the sidelines as you continued to (as he thinks) "Live your life."

Heperu allows Luka to hang out with you often, mostly because your owner says "y/n cant live without him!" And cause he gets paid, but that causes you two to develop...something special.

Yes, there are times youre too much and he's too little, but in the end, he's grown to become attracted to your bubbly attitude. He's grown to appreciate the hugs he used to hate so so much, to like how you'd often fall asleep due to your own exhaustion, etc.

He learns about affection, how to love, what love is, and how to treat you well (fun fact: he canonically did this for hyuna to understand what love is)

One day, he doesnt exactly....confess? He just starts saying "Oh Y/n? Ah yeah I know them, theyre mine arent they?" and when you ask him about it, thats when he admits his feelings. He just says it in a very odd way.

"Y/N. I have grown to have feelings for you. Im yours." And thats all he says. Its not romantic, but he never tells anyone "Im yours." Due to his past, he got used to say "Youre mine. Youre mine only." and him offering himself to you was a big step.

You two become lovers and because of this, the Aliens spare both of you. They let you two live a happy life, only under the condition that you two continue to pursue your careers.

A/N: THATS IT. idk what to write anymore but!!! im the number one luka lover trust. THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING!!!

[probablysimpledreams]

UA Touya has been on the brain so much lately

Enji refused to get him in on recommendations (and yes he becomes pissed years later when he learns Shoto was admitted on recommendations), so what does Touya do?

He passes the exam with a flawless score, getting into the Hero Course. He’s one of the strongest in his class. He’s so driven and passionate during training. He’s everything you’d want to see in a hero.

However, his attitude plus alternative style plus quirk makes fellow students…weary of him. He’s known to be rude. He only hangs out with people from other schools. He’s covered in burn scars and grafts.

Sadly, this starts many rumors. Shit like “did you know Touya is in a gang?” and “I heard he beats up kids…some hero he will be!” and “That Touya would be better off a villain than hero.” Due to all this plus all his energy focused on becoming a top hero, one no could ever forget, he keep to himself while at school.

So it’s a huge surprise when one day at lunch he finds you standing in front of him. Touya always ate outside in the courtyard where he could blast his music without any teachers yelling at him. He’s even more shocked when you ask if you can join him.

Why was a pretty thing like you talking to him? Didn’t you hear what they all say about him?

He’s suspicious, not sure what your motive here is. You explain that you wanted to eat outside because the weather was so nice for once, and while you were looking for a spot to sit you overheard his music and wanted to listen. His suspicions don’t fade, but he allows you to enter into his little world for the next hour. You two sit together and listen to his playlist, occasionally discussing the song/album before it fades into the next.

This exchange continues for the next few weeks. You both begin really looking forward to lunch everyday. You two begin exchanging songs, homework answers, even phone numbers. You two wave at each other in the hallway, exchanging small “hi”s and smiles. You’re walking alongside friends while he’s always alone. Huh.

One day your friend watches as Touya calls for you in the hallway. You run over to him, excitedly accepting the CD you asked him to burn for you earlier that week. You run back over to your friend and that’s when you learn the rumors. How he’s this big scary villainous guy, how you shouldn’t trust him.

But that’s nothing like the Touya you knew!

So that same day at lunch, you brought up the rumors. He seemed disappointed you finally heard them, thinking it meant his time with you was over. But instead you asked him to answer each question fully honest.

“Are you in a gang?” You laid down. He followed, body laying the other way but head right next to yours.

“Nah,” he chuckled and looked up at the sky. “My friends are just losers and refer to us as ‘The League.’ The only time things get violent is game night.”

You laugh at his answer, making his cheeks go pink and a slight pout form on his lips. You then ask your next question.

“Do you really get into fights with children?”

“Ohmygod it was ONE FUCKING TIME,” he sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Shit wait that sounds bad.”

You laugh harder this time. “Touya what the fuck?”

“Okay okay look my youngest brother can be a handful. I took him to the playground one time and some badass kids made him cry,” he explains, feeling embarrassed at the memory.

“Touya no you didn’t-”

“I didn’t hurt them!! I just showed off my flame and made sure they knew to leave my brother alone….not my fault they started crying.” The look on his face is too cute as his embarrassment is clear. You can tell he’s not use to opening up like this and letting people truly see him. Your heart fluttered realizing you were becoming one of the few people who get to see him like this. Who gets to truly see Touya.

“Okay okay now final question,” you bite your lips nervously. “And you don’t have to answer it if you don’t wanna.” His eyebrow rose at your words, face turning to look at you. “How did you get your scars?”

It’s silent for a few seconds. 10 minutes go by. Then 20. Almost 30 before you speak up again.

“I’m sorry, pretend I never asked that. I just was-”

“It’s pathetic,” his breath is shakey. He’s facing the sky again, hand running through his hair. “It happened when I was a kid. I was desperate for my dad’s attention and overused my quirk a few times. One night I must have really overdid it. I don’t remember much from that day. I just woke up a while later with these gross skin grafts and my mom sobbing. Really haven’t seen the old man since. If he’s around he’s just with Shoto anyways and,” he takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. “Ah sorry I started rambling there.”

He turns to face, examining your face to gauge your reaction to the real him. He’s scanning your face for any signs of disappointment, disgust, dislike. His stomach turned at the idea of you feeling pity for him as well. God he really has to ruin everything didn’t he?

“You must be disappointed to learn I’m such a loser huh?”

But as usual you surprise him, flashing him a sweet smile as you respond, “nah, I like it. I think you’re cute.”

You then learned one more thing about Touya: being complimented makes his cheeks go dark red.

[itsabouttimex2]

(I think I’m gonna drop this and see how it does cause I’ve been thinking on it for a while, and since I’m not exactly satisfied with my wording I’ll probably delete it, but for a day or two I’m gonna let it settle cause my feelings are split on this perspective and I don’t know if I’m blowing these things out of proportion…)

In general I just don’t really think MK is as good of a hero as the series wants him to be, not in that he’s a “bad person” so much as in that the show is so desperate to gas him up as a “true hero” that it actually warps from reasonable praise that fits in line with his actions to a level of shilling that his actual behavior doesn’t match up with at all.

(In short, if you don’t want to read the whole thing: MK is genuinely a good person, and he’s a functional hero, but when the series outright deprecates Wukong to hype MK up and has his villains remark on what a good hero he is, it really feels shallow on account of MK’s actions rarely going above “we fight people who threaten us”)

And for as much as Lego Monkie Kid does hype up MK (and sometimes his friends but especially MK) as “true heroes”, it’s never really willing to engage with him as being a hero outside of a very shallow “we fight whatever guys are trying to kill us”, -which leads to a very strange situation where his “heroism” usually goes only as far as batting a monster out of the city without any insurance to prevent it from coming back and doing more harm later on, or hell, maybe even just ditching Megapolis and going to attack some other city without a hero to protect.

(It’s especially wild given that MK was ENTIRELY willing to smash (and thereby implicitly reseal) DBK beneath a mountain in his first fight against demon and then entirely gives up on ever being proactive with the preventation of harm ever again because what the fuck kid you were literally on track the very first fight you ever had in your life?? Why’d you go and lose the plot when it made you look so much better???)

MK isn’t the person whose home is getting laser-nuked to ashes by Demon Bull King (there were miles of those in his first attack), and he’s not someone whose been stolen by the Spider Queen to serve as a slave (like Syntax), and he doesn’t get a calamitous fire fused with him after Macaque forces a world-threatening ritual to be performed under threat of his death (Mei), so HE can throw “second chances” out like candy, but that’s only because the narrative is never willing to engage with victims of these villains outside of their impacts on either him or the landscape, the second of which is almost always instantly glossed over or outright played for laughs, even for FLOWER FRUIT MOUNTAIN itself, and if it does have an impact on someone else then it’s only to have them be upset for a few seconds/a minute or two before outright pretending they never had experienced negative interactions begin with.

And giving out “redemptions” to the villains without actually really engaging with their victims (even within the main cast!) really feels less like a hero magnanimously giving someone a second chance and more like watching the hero keep doing what he’s been doing from almost the very start- letting dangerous jerks off the hook, even though they keep coming back to hurt people, but this time, after their fourth mass assault charge, they wander off into the sunset and this time instead of leading another assault they decide to become good people.

(With introspection and actual growth occurring offscreen, of course, because it’s not like the actual ARC of redemption arcs is the fun part/s. On, and all those victims they built up, all the damage they caused, the fear they inspired and the trauma they very likely left innocent souls with?? Never addressed, of course! Only MK’s traumas are important to the story, and they’re so important that most of his key character development involves getting punched with more and more of that angst without ever stopping to address that other characters have been suffering right alongside him, at least never for more than a few seconds/a single minute to explore a brief moment of insecurity or anger before that “flaw” gets packed up to be repurposed, ex: Mei is insecure about her heritage? Solved in an episode! But now she’s at Ao Guang’s place and she’s insecure about her heritage again! Oh, wait- solved in one episode- again!)

It’s especially jarring that the story sets up Azure Lion as a false hero for, essentially, being too proactive in his desire to fight evil and protect the mortal realm that he adores, where MK and his crew are “true heroes” for… waiting for threats to personally inconvenience them before dealing with those threats.

The leonine demon wants to go to the root of what he sees as a tree long rotten and rip it out to supplant it with what he believes is a better core (whether himself or Sun Wukong), while MK and his friends are content to ignore threats and let them fester as long as they aren’t currently fighting or being endangered by said threats. There’s never an actual clash between these perspectives and actions- it’s just “Azure is bad now and can’t control himself, so it’s ethical to beat him around,” which especially is absolutely fucking bonkers when it’s revealed Azure, despite being a soldier of the Jade Emperor, didn’t even know about the whole “this guy is holding the world together with his own power” thing and probably wouldn’t have iced the guy if he had known what would happen.

And on the topic of heroes, I’m also going to come in and say that Azure’s “delusional hero” characterization would be FAR more poignant and fitting if he had learned all that business and still went through with his plan with a “fuck it, I can ball” attitude based on his absolute assurance of his abilities and status as a hero… only to utterly spiral out of control anyways, instead of being hazily warned about dubious consequences by the Jade Emperor and Nezha instead of just being outright told that the world is almost guaranteed to end if he goes forward with this.

Along with Azure’s general character, the ecocide scene centered around knocking himself off of the “hero” pedestal he’s on is really just there to reassure MK (and the audience) about the kid’s status as a hero. It’s a nasty, unforeshadowed cop-out so the series can say “MK, don’t feel bad about fighting him! He’s actually not that good of a guy at all! Don’t feel bad about fighting Azure cause he’s done bad stuff and isn’t really a good guy! MK you’re a perfectly justified moral little boy! Azure doesn’t hold a candle to you!” and dashes his supposed ideals as a shallow veneer instead of having the characters engage with them to support the in-universe viewpoint that MK and his friends are just the very most bestest heroes ever.

(Not to mention that this reveal is literally delivered to the audience by Macaque, who just ass-pulls the knowledge of where to take MK and what to tell him about the big guy to change the kid’s mind in spite of never previously sharing so much as a single word or interaction with Azure to connect the two. Every day I believe a little more in my Macaque Replacement Theory)

So basically, the writers ended up tanking that complexity to give MK an easy moral victory when it could’ve been so cool to do something other than that, like MK acknowledging that hey, Azure is trying to prevent tragedy from occurring in the first place and was outright willing to take part in a siege on the heavens to ostensibly use the Jade Emperor’s powers for good where MK happily sits around until the threatening forces present in the world come to him and his home, and how neither of those paths is inherently “correct”, but any potential complexity is torpedoed with “Actually he’s delusional and needs to go down. Also his plan was inherently flawed and realm-threatening. And he committed ecocide. Also he’s toxic and projects onto the people around him. And his actions personally kill him to keep MK’s hands mostly clean.”

So essentially the narrative says:

“Azure, you should’ve known better than to play god by interfering with cosmic forces of the universe to do what you thought was best for it. This is objectively bad of you given information that existed outside of your knowledge and was inherently flawed and led to tragedy! Why couldn’t you just let things be?!”

While also saying:

“Anyways Season 5!MK, you can play god! You interfering with the cosmic forces of the universe to do what you think is best for it will be portrayed as heroic, dramatic, and sympathetic while also turning out to be the objectively correct and morally right decision! It’s good that you didn’t just let things be!”

And the “consequences” of the difference here are that: while MK and Azure Lion both have the chance to either stand complacently by in the face of what they consider a fixable injustice in the world, and all it takes is denying the cosmic authority that stands above them, and for denying it Azure dies, while MK successfully breaks an unfair and harsh cycle, gives the world cool superpowers, and gets to live on with his friends in a now eternal world.

And this wouldn’t be such a big deal to me if the story was willing to explore what the writers consider “true” heroism outside of… ??? What do they consider “true” heroism? When the good you’ve performed far outweighs the bad? When you… succeed? Is Azure castigated by the narrative for not succeeding? Clearly not, because he’s portrayed negatively in terms of his actions even before the consequences of killing the Jade Emperor set in. Is he only a bad guy for using deceit and subterfuge to get what he wants, because that also happens before he murders the Jade Emperor. I mean, the heroes aren’t above scheming and fucking around themselves-

Like breaking into the Celestial Realm, running roughshod, stealing, and then leaving without returning anything or explaining to anyone about what’s going on afterwards!

Is he a bad guy for wanting to upset the status quo? At some point it feels less like the narrative considers MK a “true hero” because they have a definition for what actually counts as that and more because he’s the protagonist and, well, they want to hype him up.

Basically and for the TLDR, the narrative is custom-built to morally reward MK for essentially all of his heroic actions, even if they fall sharply in line with what the “bad guys” were doing just a season earlier or are outright as shallow as giving attempted mass murderers a dozen second chances to try and kill more innocent people, also without ever truly addressing or applying in-universe consequences for the run-off of his actions such as bringing the trigram furnace to earth and leaving it there, concealing his meeting with the Lady Bone Demon, releasing the Ink Curse by fucking around with the scroll for more than a few seconds or a quick remand before moving past it.

And, can we stop right here and think about a role swap for a moment?

If Sun Wukong had done ANY of that, we all fucking know that the story would’ve stopped sharp to rip him a new asshole and have at least one person would stop to shriek at him about what an irresponsible person he was, about how bad of a mentor he is, about how stupid it was for him not to clean up loose ends. But MK receives a bare minimum throwaway scolding from one of his friends + Ink Curse for releasing it, which doesn’t impact how they or the fandom view him at all.

This is especially egregious for the fact that Wukong is treated like a knuckle-dragging lobotomite by the story (and fandom) whose feats are far surpassed by MK when the Monkey King actually managed to crush his foes in varying ways (destroying their kingdoms, imprisoning them, killing them, etc) that ushered in an era of peace that allowed for rapid technological advancement… but now they’re back and he’s getting beaten over the head for everything, which unintentionally makes it clear that showing mercy in Monkie Kid is just a really, really stupid thing to do unless you’re the super special central protagonist and the writers want to hype you up as the very goodest little boy in the whole wide world over who has full moral authority to allow his city and friends and world to be threatened again and again and again… as long as he’s being “nice” about it.

[biblical-chronicles]

Marked

_____________________________________________

where Liam's tattoo makes you feel things [18+]

_____________________________________________

Liam hadn’t even dropped his bag properly when you launched yourself into his arms, nearly knocking him over with the force of your excitement. “You’re home!” you exclaimed, your voice muffled against his neck as you hugged him tightly. His familiar scent wrapping around you quickly.

“Alright, love, don’t knock me over.” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you slightly off the ground. “Missed me, then?”

“Of course I did,” you replied, leaning back to look at him. His face, though tired from the tour, lit up with a grin that made your chest ache. “You’re never leaving me for that long again, by the way.”

“Is that so?” he teased, setting you down gently. “Guess I’ll have to bring you with me next time.”

“You better,” you said, swatting his arm playfully. “But right now, you’re staying here, and I’m not letting you out of me sight.”

Liam laughed, pulling you in for another kiss, soft and warm, and full of everything he couldn’t put into words. You barely noticed him steering you toward the sofa, but soon enough, you were sitting beside him, your legs draped over his lap.

“I’ve got summat to show you.” he said suddenly, his voice laced with excitement.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued but wary. “What kind of something?”

“Just... hang on.” he said, starting to fiddle with the waistband of his jeans.

Your eyes widened. “Liam, what the hell are you doing?”

He grinned at your panic but didn’t stop, undoing the button and shimmying the denim down just enough to expose his upper thigh. There, nestled just above the curve of his knee, was your name inked in bold, dark letters.

You stared at it, blinking rapidly as your brain struggled to process what you were seeing. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you finally said, your voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. “Is that... me name?”

“Yeah,” he said proudly, leaning back like he’d just unveiled the Mona Lisa. “Got it done while we were on the road.”

“Liam,” you said slowly, your hand covering your mouth as you tried not to laugh. “Are you mental? You know that’s permanent, right?”

“’Course I do,” he said, his grin never faltering. “That’s the whole point, innit?”

You stared at him, a mixture of exasperation and affection swirling in your chest. “You realize you’ve tattooed my name on your body forever?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, meeting your gaze. “Just like us. Stays forever.”

Your laugh burst out before you could stop it, and you shook your head, feeling equal parts amused and touched. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Always aim to please.” he said cheekily, but the sincerity in his eyes softened the moment.

You slid off the sofa and knelt in front of him, pulling his jeans down a little more to inspect the tattoo properly. It was clean and crisp, the lines healed well enough that you could see the detail clearly. Your fingers hovered over it for a moment before you finally traced the edges lightly, still not quite believing it was real.

“You’re an idiot.” you said, though your tone was more affectionate than anything else.

“Maybe,” he replied, his voice low as he watched you. “But I’m your idiot.”

You looked up at him, shaking your head again but smiling. “You know, this is actually kind of sweet. Insane, but sweet.”

He leaned down to kiss you, his lips warm and firm against yours. “Worth every bloody second.” he murmured against your mouth.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hand still resting lightly on his thigh. “You’re lucky I love you.” you said, smirking.

“Yeah, I am,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “More than you know.”

Your fingers lingered on the tattoo, brushing over the ink with featherlight touches as if testing its reality. The fact that your name was permanently etched on Liam’s skin sent a wave of warmth through your chest.

“He’s branded himself for you,” a voice in your mind whispered. “Yours.”

You bit your lip, eyes darting to his face. Liam was watching you with a lazy grin, though his cheeks held the faintest hint of a blush, like he knew exactly where your mind was heading. You felt your pulse quicken.

“You know,” you said softly, voice low and thick with intent, “this is kind of hot.”

Liam’s grin faltered for a second, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Hot?”

“Mhm,” you murmured, sitting back on your heels and letting your hands slide higher up his thigh. His jeans were still bunched low, and you tugged them further, exposing more of his leg. “You’ve literally got my name on you, Liam. It’s like you’re claiming me... but also like you’re mine.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his confidence wavering under your sudden intensity. “I mean... I don’t mind the idea of bein’ yours, love.” he muttered, voice cracking slightly.

“Oh, I know you don’t,” you teased, smirking as you climbed back onto the couch and straddled his thigh. “But you like being told, don’t you? That you’re only meant for me?”

Liam’s breath hitched, his wide eyes flickering with recognition and something more. His hands twitched on the cushions as if unsure whether to hold onto you or stay obediently still.

“Come on, say it.” you coaxed, straddling him and rolling your hips against his thigh slowly. The fabric of your lingerie creating delicious friction between you two. “Admit it—you like it when I praise you.”

He let out a shaky exhale, his head falling back against the sofa. “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, his voice dripping with need. “Yeah, I do... I love it.”

You grinned triumphantly, leaning forward to nip at his jawline before whispering in his ear, “Good boy.”

His hips bucked instinctively, and a deep moan tore from his throat. You laughed softly, a little breathless yourself, and pressed your palms to his chest, keeping him pinned in place.

“You’re so easy to wind up,” you teased, rolling your hips again, a little harder this time, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped your lips.

“Yeah?” Liam rasped, his voice hoarse as his hands finally settled on your hips. His grip was firm, but he didn’t try to control your movements—he let you lead. “S’pose that’s ‘cause you know how to drive me mad.”

“Do I?” you asked, feigning innocence as you ground down harder, picking up a rhythm that had you both panting. “Or is it just that you’re obsessed with me?”

“Both,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly on the word. His head tilted forward, and his lips ghosted over your neck before he groaned. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

You leaned back, taking off his shirt and dragging your nails lightly down his chest, leaving red trails on his skin. “Look at you,” you murmured, your eyes dark as you took him in. “All flushed and desperate... just for me.”

“Always for you,” he said, his hands trembling slightly on your hips. “Only you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your stomach flip, and for a moment, you paused, leaning down to kiss him deeply. His lips parted eagerly beneath yours, his tongue meeting yours in a messy manner. When you pulled back, both of you were gasping for air.

“You’re so good for me,” you whispered, grinding down harder as your fingers threaded through his hair and tugged gently. “Such a good boy, Liam.”

The praise sent another moan ripping from his throat, and his hands tightened on your waist as his hips bucked involuntarily. “Fuckin’ hell, keep sayin’ that,” he begged, his voice raw with need. “Please.”

You smiled wickedly, leaning close to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Anything for me good boy.” you purred, your words punctuated by another sharp roll of your hips. 

You leaned back, your hips grinding down harder against him as a sly grin spread across your face. Liam’s head tilted back, his neck straining with the effort to keep his composure, though it was clearly a losing battle. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and the flush creeping up his cheeks made him look impossibly vulnerable, completely at your mercy.

“Oh you're so beautiful.” you whispered, your voice low and teasing as your fingers trailed down his chest, playing over the slight sheen of sweat. “All wrecked already, and I’ve barely even started.”

His lips parted, a shaky breath escaping them, but he didn’t respond—he couldn’t. His eyes flickered to yours, dazed and dark with need, silently begging for more.

You let your fingers glide down his arm, grasping his hand gently and raising it to your lips. “You like watching me, don’t you?” you asked softly, your voice carrying a taunting edge as you slowly parted your lips and took two of his fingers into your mouth.

Liam’s eyes widened, and a low moan escaped him as your tongue swirled around his fingertips, wetting them thoroughly. You made a point to hollow your cheeks slightly, dragging his fingers out with an audible pop before kissing the tips. “That’s right,” you murmured, your gaze locked on his. “Good boys don’t look away.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he rasped, his voice hoarse as his hips bucked beneath you again. “You’re unreal.”

You grinned at his reaction, leaning forward until your lips brushed his ear. “Unreal, huh?” you teased, your breath hot against his skin. “And yet, here I am, and you're mine.”

“Yours.” he echoed, the word breaking into a desperate groan as your hips ground down harder. His hands moved higher to hold your waist, trying to steady you—or himself—but you swatted them away.

“Ah, ah,” you scolded, smirking as you sat up straighter. “Hands to yourself, Liam. You don’t touch until I say so.”

The sharp command sent a shudder through him, and his hands dropped obediently to his sides, gripping the cushions as if to keep them from wandering. “You’re bloody killin’ me.” he muttered, his voice deliciously strained.

You laughed softly, leaning down to kiss him, slow and steady, your tongue teasing his before pulling back. “Oh, love,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over his lower lip. “We’re just getting started.”

Without warning, you spat lightly into his open mouth, watching as his eyes widened in shock before darkening further. “Swallow.” you commanded, your voice firm, and he obeyed without hesitation, his throat bobbing as he did. “Good boy.”

Liam just moaned, and you felt his thighs tense beneath you, the sheer effort of holding back driving him to the brink. “Please,” he begged, his voice raw. “Need you so bad.”

You hummed thoughtfully, as if considering his plea, before reaching down to drag the lace of your panties aside. The feel of his length, hot and throbbing against your core, sent a shiver up your spine, and you couldn’t resist rolling your hips against him once more. “You need me, huh?” you whispered, your tone dripping with mock sympathy. “Then beg for it.”

“Please,” he repeated, his voice breaking as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Please, love, let me feel you. I’ll do whatever you want—just need you.”

His desperation was quite intoxicating, and you couldn’t resist teasing him a moment longer. “Good boy,” you purred, taking off his underwear and guiding him to your entrance with deliberate slowness. “Now, let’s see if you can be as good as you sound.”

The moment you sank down onto him, a moan tore from his throat, and his head fell back against the cushions, his eyes squeezing shut. The stretch and fullness made your own breath hitch, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

“Eyes on me,” you commanded, your fingers gripping his jaw and forcing him to look at you. “I want to see that pretty face when I ride you.”

Liam’s gaze locked on yours, his pupils blown wide with lust, and he nodded, captivated. “Y-Yeah,” he stammered, his voice shaking. “Anything for you, love.”

With a wicked grin, you began to move, setting a pace that had you both moaning in tandem, the sound of your bodies meeting filling the room. “That’s it,” you murmured, your fingers digging into his chest. “Take it like a good boy that you are.”

You rocked against Liam’s lap, the friction and heat building, every movement drawing gasps and moans from both of you. His hands gripped your hips tightly, though he still let you control the rhythm, his face a mix of pleasure and vulnerability as you moved.

As you leaned closer, you cupped his flushed face in your hands, forcing him to look at you again, your lips hovering just inches from his. “You’re so beautiful, Liam,” you murmured, your voice low and reverent. “Do you even realize what you do to me? Those eyes… that smile. It’s not fair.”

Liam’s lips parted in a shaky gasp, his pupils blown wide as he held your gaze, his chest heaving. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “You… you’re…”

“Perfect,” you interrupted him, your thumb stroking his cheek as your hips rolled harder, grinding against him. “You’re perfect, Liam. The way you look at me, the way you touch me… no one even comes close to you. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, everything I didn’t even know I needed.”

His breath hitched, his hands trembling slightly against your skin as he gripped you harder. His hips bucked up, and the desperation in his movements made you smile. “That’s me good boy,” you whispered, leaning down to press your lips to his ear. “Taking it so well. So good for me.”

His hands slid up your sides, his fingers finally digging into your waist as he let out a low moan. “I love you.” he rasped, his voice hoarse and uneven.

You pulled back slightly, your hands trailing down his chest, your nails lightly scratching over his skin, leaving faint red lines behind. “You deserve this,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “All of it. You deserve to feel good, Liam. You deserve everything. I love you so much.”

His lips trembled as he tried to respond, but all that came out was a choked moan, his head tipping back against the cushions as his eyes fluttered shut. You leaned down, pressing kisses along his jawline, his neck, and the column of his throat, savoring the way his body reacted to every touch.

“You’re the best, Liam,” you murmured between kisses, your lips brushing against his heated skin. “The way you take care of me, the way you’re always there for me… you don’t even realize how incredible you are, do you?”

He let out another broken sound, his hands sliding down to your thighs as his grip tightened, his breathing ragged. “Love… you’re… fuck,” he stammered, his voice cracking with emotion and need.

“Shh,” you whispered, bringing a finger to his lips. “I know. I know, love. Just let me take care of you.”

You shifted slightly, your movements more deliberate now, grinding down against him, his body jerking beneath you as a desperate moan sounded from his throat. His hands flew to your hips again, trying to slow you down, but you weren’t having it.

“Don’t hold back,” you said firmly, leaning closer so your lips were barely brushing against his. “I want to hear you. Every single sound. Don’t you dare hide it from me.”

The command made him groan loudly, his hands trembling as they slid up your thighs. “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered, his voice wrecked. “You’re too much, love. Can’t handle it.”

“Yes, you can,” you countered, pressing a kiss to his lips before pulling back to meet his gaze. “Because you’re mine, Liam. My good boy. Aren’t you?”

His response was just a breathless, “Yeah. Yours. Always.”

You smiled, your fingers trailing down to his lips, pressing two of them into his mouth. “Good boy,” you said softly, watching as his eyes widened slightly, his tongue brushing against your fingers. “That’s it. Just like that.”

The sight of him completely at your mercy, his face flushed and his eyes dark with need sent a fresh wave of heat through you. “Look at you,” you murmured, your voice full of admiration as you began to ride him harder. “So beautiful. So perfect.”

His moans grew louder, unrestrained, filling the room as your praises poured over him. “Fuck, love,” he managed to say, his voice shaking. “I… I love you so fucking much.”

You paused for a moment, your chest tightening as you looked down at him. “I love you too.” you whispered, leaning down to kiss him, your hands framing his face as you poured every ounce of your emotion into it.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, anchoring you to him as your bodies moved together in perfect harmony. Each shift of your hips drew a sharp gasp or a deep moan from him, his head falling back slightly as his eyes locked onto yours, full of unrestrained vulnerability and passion.

“Fuck,” Liam rasped, his voice trembling with raw emotion and pleasure. “Love… you’re… you’re everything.”

You leaned in closer, your forehead brushing against his. “So are you,” you whispered, your voice shaking as your movements became more desperate, grinding against him with increasing urgency. “I mean it, Liam. No one—no one—comes close to you.”

Your words seemed to spur him on, his hips bucking up to meet yours, his grip on you tightening as his breathing became more ragged. “You’re too good,” he muttered, his voice breaking as his head tilted back. “Too fuckin’ good.”

“And you’re perfect,” you countered, leaning down to nip at his jaw, your teeth scraping lightly against his skin before soothing the spot with your tongue. “My perfect, most beautiful boy.”

The praise sent a shiver through him, and he let out another moan, his hands sliding up to cup your waist as his body tensed beneath you. The sound of his pleasure pushed you closer to the edge, your pace quickening as your nails dug into his chest, leaving faint crescents in his skin.

“Liam,” you moaned, your voice thick with need. “I’m so close.”

“Me too, love,” he choked out, his voice barely a whisper. “Fuckin’… can’t hold it…”

You leaned forward, your hands framing his face as you forced him to look at you, your gaze locking onto his. “Let go, Liam,” you murmured, your voice a mix of a plea and a command. “With me.”

With a final roll of your hips, the tension that had been building finally snapped, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you cried out his name. Liam followed moments later, his body shuddering beneath yours as his moans filled the room. His hands clutched at you desperately, pulling you closer as you both rode out the waves together.

As the pleasure faded, you collapsed against him, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you both struggled to catch your breath. Liam’s arms wrapped around you tightly, his lips pressing soft, reverent kisses to the top of your head.

For a few moments, the room was silent save for the sound of your mingled breathing. Finally, you lifted your head, your fingers tracing over the sweat-dampened skin of his chest. “Well,” you said, your voice soft and teasing, “I think it’s only fair that I tattoo your name on me now. Right?”

Liam let out a breathless laugh, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he grinned at you. “Don’t be daft,” he said, though his eyes sparkled with affection. “But… if you’re serious…”

You laughed, leaning down to kiss him again, soft and lingering. “We’ll see,” you murmured against his lips. “I just might be.”

_____________________________________________

hope you lot enjoyed this little piece of media xx

big thanks to @shes-thunderstormssss for the wonderful idea, was a pleasure to scribble down, can't wait to hear what you thought x

love ya all !!

[tribalauthor]

THE WISEWOMAN (roman reigns ff) <chapter 6>

word count: 2.5k

Sophia's POV:

Heat was roaming over my whole body as I was sitting on Roman's lap, body to body or more precisely clothes to clothes.

Mouth to mouth.

We were having a heated makeout session with slow and sloppy kisses and some little moans coming out of us.

I could feel his not so short beard tickling my whole face. Unfamiliar sensation for me since I have never made out with a too bearded guy. I could also feel his huge hands on my butt and squeezing it.

We stopped for a bit to take a breath and stare at each other. The spark of lust in his deep brown eyes let me know what he wants.

However, it's not the time or place.

"I think we must stop." I spoke through my heavy breaths.

I abruptly opened my eyes and slightly lifted my head.

What dream did I just have?

I swear this didn't happen in real life.

Me and Roman just drank ONE glass of wine then we took a nap, we got in New York and he drove me home. That's it.

I checked the time on my phone and it's almost noon.

I got home really late or must I say early - around 5am.

After I did my morning routine I put on some gray sweatpants and dark blue blouse, ready to drink my coffee and do some pilates.

Maybe talk to mom if she is here. I know it's Saturday but being a surgeon is very, very demanding job and you have to be available 24/7.

It has been like this since I remember myself.

Couldn't spend too much time with my mom, so basically my dad raised me...until he died 9 years ago.

Although it has been almost a decade, you can never get over the pain of losing a parent especially when he was so close to you.

During my college years uncle was the one who supported me to pursue my dreams. He even helped me a lot with the studies and everything.

I learned a lot from him.

I remember ever since I was a kid my dad always told me that I resemble uncle in so many ways. He even said it's like I'm uncle's daugher and not his.

My dad was way different from uncle though. While uncle has this formal, practical persona and so on, my dad was more of like a free spirit.

He was changing jobs constantly. Couldn't really keep himself in one place. I remember him and mom always argued. He just didn't like the idea of mom bringing more money at home than him. That fact was crushing him every single day until he decided to overdose and end it all.

It's kind of stupid, if you think about it, ain't it?

He could have just asked for a divorce and still be here with us but I know dad loved mom with his whole heart although mom is a very, very difficult woman.

Perfectionist at its finest, unemotional, smart.

I mean she needs these qualities for her job, I know that but I admit she is not easy. I also admit that I inherited a lot from her and it's not just the looks.

As I went downstairs to make myself some coffee I heard some voices chattering.

Oh God, did she invite somebody?

When I got in the living room, I saw my mother drinking coffee and eating with my two best friends from college - Tina and Cleo.

My two beautiful, 10/10 best friends who've been by my side since first year of college.

Tina is a long haired brunette woman with light brown eyes, skinny body and the most beautiful smile in the world and I mean it. A literal angel came from heaven and she got married a few months ago to a very good man.

He is meant just for her.

Cleo is a curly girl with light brown skin and hazel eyes. Body is tea, fashion sense too and she got engaged last month. Therefore we shall expect a wedding soon.

"Somebody forgot she invited guests over the weekend." mom scolded me.

I put my hand on my temple.

"I'm so sorry, girls." I said as I went to the table and hugged them.

"It's okay, Soph. You are a busy Wise Woman." Cleo teased me and I rolled my eyes playfully.

"Oh me and Noah watched Smackdown last night. He is a big fan of the show and suddenly I am too." Tina chuckled and I slightly wrinkled my lips.

"Me and Jeremiah too. He is crazy for WWE." I scratched my neck. "You were amazing, girl. Best thing of the night and I'm not biased."

"Thank you." I batted my eyelids and looked at mother.

"I took a few glimpses. Sometimes I think you came out of your uncle, not from me." she stated and shook her head. However, she didn't quite use a cold tone, it was rather proud in a way. Judging by her expression, she is lowkey proud.

"That guy Roman is something else though. I made a comment how hot he is and Jer...just agreed." my jaw fell on the floor. "He is his favorite."

"Oh my God." I put my hand on my mouth and headed to the coffee machine in the kitchen box.

"A normal man would feel jealous but he said 'yeah, I know' and continued watching." Cleo still seemed in disbelief but so am I.

"Noah likes Cody more but he made an interesting statement." Tina hinted something and I turned on the machine while being all in ears. "He said that Roman and Sophia look cute together."

"He said what?" I turned around immediately in shock.

"He said that he envisions a deeper storyline with you two." she added and I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Storyline as in the show or storyline out of the show?" my mom asked in case she didn't understand.

"I think he meant in the show but who knows." Tina replied as I grabbed the ready coffee and went to them.

"So what's going on with yall?" I finally sat on the table.

Roman's POV:

Right now I am training with Jon and Josh in my home gym. Whenever we can, we train together. We have always been together.

Especially with the twins. We've been like triplets our whole lives. They are my closest family and friends that I have, to be honest.

We literally grew up together ever and have been through so much long before WWE.

"Uce, that Paul niece...goddamn." Josh started speaking while lifting his weights. "Seems like a big gem."

"Yeah, she completely nailed it last night." I agreed.

"And you want to nail her, don't you, Joe?" Jon just put me in the hot chair.

"What?" his younger twin furrowed his eyebrows. "Uce..."

"My plans are long-term." this is what I decided to reply.

Josh seemed really confused as hell.

"She is Paul's niece and probably around 20 years younger than you...and us." he stated and I rolled my eyes.

"Twelve years." I corrected him.

The twins exchanged looks. Josh was confused and Jon had confirming look.

"These two didn't shut up the whole ride. Me and Yoko had to move to the bedrooms." Jon pointed at me.

"Well, good luck with making a young woman like her fall for you." Josh managed to say and giving me that look of judgement.

"It's like yall don't know me." I was actually disappointed. "I can and I will get her." I declared. Damn. 'Believe that' almost came out of my mouth.

"Well, you better start working cause it seems like she has a lot of admirers and now that she got into the business, they will become even more." the elder twin advised me and I just flashed a smirk, looking down.

"Mission already started." I uttered.

Sophia's POV:

"We are in a process of wedding planning." Cleo said and my jaw dropped.

"Already?! I thought yall weren't gonna rush." I exclaimed.

"We thought that too but we tend to talk about it a lot so me and Jer actually started thinking of concepts." my friend had that amazing glow of a freshly engaged woman and the excitement rush of planning a wedding.

I am really happy that they found the right guys for them. Sometimes I can't help but wonder when I will find mine.

The door bell cut off Cleo's storytime.

Mom got up saying that she will check who it might be.

"As of now we are thinking about a small spring wedding, like a garden party with lots of flowers." me and Tina nodded in agreement, liking the idea.

I suddenly saw my mom going into the room carrying a bouquet with a white wrapping and red flowers.

They looked kinda like lilium but I'm not quite sure.

"These ones seem like a great idea." she got into the conversation and my friends also turned to her, shocked at the view.

"Does my mom have a secret admirer?" I cocked my eyebrow and smirked. I mean she is a pretty attractive woman and she has always been but her next man has to be a billionaire or something.

"They are for you actually." she replied and handed me the bouquet.

The flowers were red on the outside and white on the inside. Insanely pretty and smell amazing, too.

Oh my God.

I saw there was a not so little card in it and it was written 'for Sophia'.

"The WWE men started with the wooing." Tina commented.

"Can you read it aloud? Please." Cleo begged.

"My dear Wise Woman. Seeing you last night trying to read "Goddesses in every woman" (I didn't quite leave you but it still made me think) evoked a thought in my head which goddess hides in you. My first thought was Aphrodite but then I realized you are actually Athena - the goddess of wisdom. I also did a research about her that she is portrayed as a companion of heroes (me in the case). I also checked out that the Roman equation of Athena is Minerva and the flowers you see in this bouquet are Amaryllis 'Minerva' symbolising determination and strength. Also, they kinda look like you ;)

Sincerely from Your Tribal Chief"

I rested my back on the chair trying to process everything I just read right now.

My friends had the same reaction and I swear I could see surprise in mom's face too.

"Holy, these old school men don't play." Cleo grabbed her curly hair. "How many times have you two met?"

"Just two. Last night and when I was hired." I replied.

"Olivia, I think you have a son in law in the way." Tina warned mom.

"Let's see how long he is gonna keep this energy. He is an athlete after all." mom shrugged it off.

"A hella romantic one, though. Goddamn." Cleo swore once again. "Old school men really don't play. This is exactly how you do it."

I bit my lips trying to hide the big grin that would stick on my mouth.

This is romantic, indeed adding the fact that I have always associated myself with Athena and Roman has no idea. He was just thinking about this.

"What are you waiting for? Call Roman and thank him." Tina scolded me.

"Right." I mumbled and took my phone then left the table, so I could talk in private.

He gave me his number the day we met, so we have our contacts.

I dialed his number and I felt my heart pounding fast in my chest.

I am still feel the adrenaline in my blood. This is literally the sweetest thing a man has ever done for me.

"Hey." I heard his bass-deep voice that could drive any woman crazy and I am no different.

"Hi, Roman." I replied with my soft feminine voice.

"I received your present." I continued talking and bit my lip. "Thank you so much for the gesture and especially the astonishingly detailed card." I chuckled slightly. "You just left me speechless really." I spoke frankly.

I heard his deep chuckle.

"I am a man of detail, sweetheart. Remember that." he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone and I almost fell to the ground.

A detailed man? Oh my God. Literally my dream.

"I love the flowers too." I added. "Thank you so much once again. Can't spell romantic without Roman." I giggled at the realization I just had and I heard him laughing.

"You said it alone."

"You are welcome, Soph. I am capable of even more but you are gonna see in the future." I swear to God he would wink at me if we were face to face right now.

"Can't wait." I bit my lips.

"By the way, what are your plans for today?" he changed the topic.

"I am hanging out with my friends now then I will work out and then I don't know. What about you?" I literally have no plans for later.

"Well how about we go out tonight?" he asked me.

"Hmm...where?" I replied with a question. I know I shouldn't agree immediately.

"Somewhere nice." I hate him. Why doesn't he tell me the specific place? Did he think about it or he is as of now.

"Okay." I said after a few seconds.

"Great. Be ready at 7. I'm gonna pick you up." Roman said with a note of command which I cannot help but find hot in a way unless he crosses the line.

"See ya." I said and hung up.

Okay, what should I wear?

"Definitely not that" Cleo said with judging tone after I showed them an option from my wardrobe.

"I think you should stop with your snobbish business outfits and pull something out of the slut wardrobe." Tina advised me and started roaming into the clothes in my big wardrobe.

"Something with big cleavage." Cleo gave her clues and she pulled out a very, very short red dress that I have which is more for the club.

"Girls, I am dealing with the face of sports entertainment. He is taking me to a dinner at a very expensive restaurant, most likely and not the local pub, okay?" I tried to explain them the deal since they don't seem to understand.

"Plus, he is an elder man, not one of our peers." I added.

"True." Tina agreed. "Then something classy" she started looking around again.

"And still revealing but noy so much." Cleo yelled after her. "Revealing cleavage but not so short."

"I think I found the one." Tina announced as she pulled out a hanger with black sleevless dress and a black little fur collar.

I put it on me to see where is the length and it's a bit below the knees which makes it perfect, in my opinion.

"Oh my. I completely forgot about this set." I gasped.

"It's even still with the tag on it." Tina almost facepalmed.

"Some black heels and pretty necklace and you are ready, sweetie." Cleo said.

"Plus your signature hair volume and natural curls." Tina made a chef's kiss. "Make him weak."

"He is a professional athlete. There is nothing weak about him." I slapped them with logic once again.

"Okay but he is still a man. Make him nervous." Cleo said in one of these villian-like daring tone.

I licked my lips.

"We'll see." I just said.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

I wholeheartedly agree with you that all signs point toward season 6 a soft reboot of the show. there’s this general consensus that “of course they’re going to deal with everything that happened in the season 5 finale” but i can’t help but get the terrible underlying feeling that a lot of the original plot of the show is going to be considered collateral damage to the writers rather than a plot device by the end of the season.

Fandom is expecting this to turn into an angst fanfiction… but ultimately, it’s a show for 8 year olds.

I’m also entirely disinterested in Lila being the main villain, because the “all 14 year old girls hate each other and come up with schemes to rip each other down” is now taking center stage instead of being reserved for a B-Plot. It’s just a big bucket of “cool, I don’t care.”

(Post this ask was in response to)

Never say never, but I will be genuinely shocked if we get something even remotely close to a satisfying resolution to anything that has happened in the show so far. The writers spent seasons four and five establishing a clear pattern of ignoring big plot points or resolving them in the least satisfying way possible. I don't know why that would change now. The last "satisfying" thing the show gave us was Chloe's "damnation arc." While I will always disagree with calling it that, at least we got to see her setup to fall and then fall. Everything after that has been a lackluster nothing burger.

The temp hero identity reveals at the end of season three might as well have not happened

Chat Blanc apparently has no impact on Marinette (but somehow does on Adrien?)

Alya getting her Miraculous full time led to nothing

Marinette being the guardian didn't change anything

Lila's lying disease confession meant nothing and she still had all her power

Season four could have been cut and season three could have just ended with Gabriel escaping with the miracle box since he already had it and only lost it because of a random power we'd ever seen before (naming a new guardian)

The list goes on and on. I don't expect perfection from any fictional work. Everyone has a bad book or a bad episode or even a bad season, but this goes beyond a minor blip in the road. Seasons four and five retroactively ruined many elements of the earlier seasons by making it clear that there was no master plan for those moments. Or if there was, it's an impressively bad one.

I also fully agree on the Lila point. I cannot stand her or the way her character influences the rest of the cast. Her episodes feel tailor-made to drive me up a wall and I have no interest in watching a show where that writing is the new standard. I'm fascinated that people expect her writing to somehow improve now that she's the big bad after multiple seasons where she consistently drags the show to new lows.

This is a formula show for little kids. Every plot and plan will have to be established, carried out, and resolved in 20 minutes. That makes it impossible to write her as anything more than a petty brat. Just look at how poorly Gabriel came across! He had the power of being a highly-influential adult and still ended up looking completely incompetent most of the time. How is Lila supposed to be better? My plan is still to not watch, but please let me know if the show somehow surprises us all and gets good.