#i don't know why you would but it's something i worry about

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny is Bruce and Clark's Civilian friend

So! Danny met Bruce and Clark at a Charity Gala promoting his Clean Energy and Technology Company.

It was just something He, Tucker, and Sam had started up after High School to try and do some good in the world, but grew faster than they realized, until they were a rising star in the Green Energy and Technology Business. Really they should have expected it, with Sam's drive for environmental protection and Tucker's love of technology, it was a given that they would push the company farther than anticipated. Danny was mostly just the front-man (aside from helping out Tucker in the Lab sometimes).

The Gala was set up by Sam to raise money for environmental preservation efforts, and Danny was there as a formality since he was the Face of the Business and technically the CEO.

Danny had struck up a conversation with Bruce, having been introduced by Sam, and they were eventually approached by Clark for an interview. He wanted to get their thoughts on the recently proposed Meta Protection Acts, and after the interview Danny decided to give Clark his contact to see if he wanted to do a follow-up. Bruce did the same, and they agreed to talk in the future.

Danny hadn't expected that to be the start of a new friendship.

Bruce and Clark seemed to click instantly with him, and while it took longer they also seemed to warm up to eachother as well. It got to the point where they were talking outside of Galas or Interviews and just called to check up on eachother. It was nice, having friends outside of Tucker and Sam for once.

Oh and also they were totally Dating.

Yeah, it was kind of obvious in hindsight that his two friends had a thing for eachother. Bruce and Clark would always share these looks with eachother before leaving the room, or Clark would check his phone for a message from whenever Bruce texted someone. They seemed to be hanging out without him as well, since they sometimes slipped up and referenced events they experienced together that he wasn't there for.

Of course Clark was publicly dating Lois Lane from his workplace, but listening his coworkers gossip long enough told him what was really going on. Lois and Clark were fake-dating so that Lois could secretly date Superman without being targeted by his enemies as much, and Clark could date a secret partner that none of his coworkers could figure out.

So when he was talking to Clark one day and the man got a text message and suddenly had a bad stomach ache, Danny decided that he should probably let him know that he knew.

"Oh don't worry Clark, I know what's going on. No need to keep up appearance with me around." He said.

"O-oh? Uh, what are you talking about Danny?" Clark asked surprised.

Danny shrugged, "It was pretty obvious in hindsight. The sneaking off, the text messages that got you to leave in a hurry, the secret glances between you and Bruce. After a while it was hard to ignore."

Clark cringed a little, "I just have a nervous stomach, and I have to rush off for work pretty often. That's all Danny."

Danny leveled a glance at him, "So does Bruce also have an upset stomach that just so happens to match up to yours? And why is Bruce following you to your Job? What, is he trying to get a job at the Daily Planet that he owns?"

"O-oh, well- I mean- That doesn't necessarily mean that I'm-" Clark stuttered.

"Calm down man, I'm not going to say anything." Danny reassured him. "It's your business, and nobody has any right to know your personal business unless you tell them. I just figured it out on my own, but I'm not gonna go shouting from the rooftops that Clark Kent is-"

"That's enough Danny, no need to demonstrate, but...thank you." Clark cut him off, "So far only Lois and Jimmy have figured me out on their own, and it's nice to finally have somebody else to talk to about this."

Danny shrugged and patted him on the shoulder, "No problem Clark, if you ever need to talk to me about it I'm all ears."

[summertimesadnessirl]

The next step in the comic is when this person intentionally picks a fight with you. No matter what you say. No matter how you say it. Even if you discussed this before. Even if you came up with like, an action plan. Even if you carefully selected someone who you thought you could trust. Someone who would never.

If someone talks to you when you're overstimulated you should literally go ahead and start the fight yourself (I've never tried that but it's the one thing I haven't tried) because there is nothing you can do to stop the fight from happening. It is impossible. You got caught not being happy in public so now you probably lose this person as a friend or a useful ally or a significant other or a trusted person or whatever they are forever, and if you don't you are going to be at their mercy and owe them apology and deference for the rest of your relationship and they will never trust you and always pick fights with you and know that as soon as they goad you enough you will lose even if you're right so they can do anything they want and get away with it because you can't fucking control the volume of your voice. You're a loser. You're a baby. You're a monster. You're committing assault. You are not free. This is a cage. These are the bars of your cage. Anyone can lock you in it at any time for free. You begin to claw at your skin again, but it won't come off. It won't come off and you are too aware of it. People aren't watching. Thank God people aren't watching. If someone catches you clawing at your skin they will throw you in a cell for 72 hours. No one will actually do anything in the cell, but the government will take your tax refund for almost 6 years to pay for the cell and you will miss so much work you almost get evicted. Your boyfriend will yell at you a week after he cried and went down on you when you got out because you can't tell him how to fix your depression and the "emergency plan" you filled out with the doctor said "I have no idea just leave me alone in a corner someplace with my headphones." It's never about you. It's never about you. You aren't even allowed to die because your life is not your own. You can leave this boy but there will always be another boy. It could be a girl instead. They could be your "boss" or "friend" or "business partner." If they catch you unhappy in public they will also be a cage. Anyone can always turn into a cage. You wish you were actually in a cage most of the time, so you consider committing a crime. You think you could probably surprise your cell mate in prison with something weird enough that they would beat you to death or you would get solitary. That sounds easy. You only have to worry about one person and they also got thrown into a cage. They have a way you can lock them up, too. You don't care unless they can beat you to death. Pen stabbed into the brain. You can't hang yourself. You can't explain why you can't hang yourself. You are afraid death won't take if you hang yourself. You will wake up, somehow. You need it to be permanent. You need it to be over. Then you hear that in prison, they can force you to work in a call center.

They don't cover that part. That everyone wants you to be the biggest bitch in the world because then you don't get to be a person. They see that you are stressed out. They aren't fucking stupid. They want to make it worse because they want to hurt you. You learn that no one who says they are your friend will not sell you out. Will not gaslight you. Will not trick you or trap you or force you. Other people keep telling you to stop being avoidant and ask for help.

[notlongtolove]

to be an accountant of the heart

because it’s utterly, bone-deep terrifying. to look into the eyes of the person you love most in the world and feel the weight of a possibility that you might love them more than they love you.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: angst-ish, fight and makeup

content: established relationship fight and makeup woof woof rookie bau reader feels insecure about how much she loves spencer, worries she's too clingy, spencer reid best bf ever

word count: 5k

note: this was haunting me in my drafts for the longest time... please be nice my heart can't take it (psa guys don't ever tell ur partners that they love you more than you love them bc 5 years down the road they'll cope by writing deranged spencer reid fics like this)

a line: You’ve always been this way—more flame than moth, more lightning than thunder. It’s one of the things he loves most about you.

and then it is hundreds of hours later, and you are still hunched over your flowcharts and abacus, trying to decide if you have gotten enough. This is the loneliest job in the world: to be an accountant of the heart. - tony hoagland

The English language draws a neat line between many and much. It divides the countable from the uncountable.

The word many is meant for things you can count. How many cups of coffee have you had? How many days will you be gone for? 

The word much belongs to what cannot be counted, what cannot be numbered. How much longer do we have in bed? How much did you miss me? How much do you love me? 

How much?

It’s an innately impossible question. Love, after all, is supposed to be infinite, unbound, unquantifiable. Any attempt to measure it—to reduce something so sacred to a number, a unit—is to taint it. And why would you want to do that? Why would anyone? There shouldn't be any need to measure something so inherently immeasurable. 

Deep down, you know there's no actual way to count love. You suppose this instinct to measure has always been there, to wonder if the love you received can be tallied like time. It’s buried deep, old as the child you once were. 

Still, the question begs itself. How much? How much more? How much less? If comparison is the thief of joy it’s only because it leaves you with the revelations nobody asked for, the truths nobody ever wants to see. 

Put love on a scale, wait and see—Will it balance or won’t it? 

“Glaring at the clock isn’t going to make time pass any faster,” Elle teases from two desks away, her eyes locked on the report she’s skimming.

You don’t bother hiding your sigh as you glance up from where your chin rests heavily in your palm, elbow propped against the desk. The pencil in your other hand twirls idly, betraying your impatience. “He said they landed an hour ago,” you grumble. Only the faintest trace of a pout slips through.

“Working hard or hardly working, ladies?” 

Your head perks up at that. Trust Derek Morgan to know how to make an entrance, arriving right on cue, grin wide and swagger intact. 

JJ, seated beside you and noticeably more amused by your restlessness than concerned, spins her chair around as she asks, “How was the convention boys?”

“It was great—more than great actually,” Spencer says, appearing from behind Morgan. He’s lugging a bag that seems twice as heavy as when you’d helped him pack it five days ago. “All the speakers were incredible. I got to talk with Lonnie Athens himself. He gave me a signed copy of his latest book.” His grin widens tenfold. “It’s not even out in stores yet.”

You’re halfway out of your seat, ready to pounce on Spencer the moment he sets his bag down. But instead, he offers a halfhug and a light squeeze to your shoulder. It’s understated, but it’s Spencer. Public displays of affection aren’t his thing, and you know better than to expect more. Still, five days without him makes you ache for just a little more.

“It was alright,” Morgan interjects with a casual shrug as he takes a seat at the edge of your table, narrowly missing your nth mug of coffee. “Great sandwiches though.”

“Yeah, you sure seemed interested in the sandwiches,” Spencer says dryly, the kind of tone that suggests sandwiches were not the main attraction.

Morgan smirks, unbothered. “New York, man,” he says with a grin. “New York.”

You turn your attention back to Spencer. “How’d you sleep?” you ask, your question aimed entirely at him.

“Surprisingly well, actually,” Spencer replies, “Despite the snoring.”

Morgan’s response is immediate—a light thwack to the back of Spencer’s head. “How’d he sleep? More like, how’d I sleep. Lover girl over here had him on the phone half the night.”

“I wasn’t that bad,” you shoot back, narrowing your eyes at him. But then your gaze drifts to Spencer, searching for confirmation. “Was I?”

Spencer hesitates, his lips pressing into a faintly sheepish line. “I did wake up late for one of the panels,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck.

“Oh, you think you had it bad? I’ve never seen someone go through so much coffee in a week,” JJ says, nodding in your direction, “She wiped out the entire stock.”

“Almost bashed her over the head with a cup of coffee myself when I had to settle for the instant stuff,” Elle chimes in. A collective shudder goes through the group. “No offence, Reid,” she adds.

“None taken,” Spencer replies smoothly, just in time to earn another smack on his arm, this time from you.

You’ve endured more than your fair share of teasing—it comes with the territory when you’re part of a team like this. You, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, three years his junior. Him, more comfortable rambling about the number of kernels on an average cob of corn than talking to any girl, let alone one with a smile like yours that could make his knees buckle. What had been an odd match to some, made perfect sense to others—Though Spencer would argue that Garcia just liked seeing him with any girl who could make him laugh the way you could, especially within three days of meeting him. It’s a feat nobody else has yet to achieve in the year you’ve been on the team. 

“Missed you,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear.

Spencer flushes as his lips part, maybe to respond, but Elle cuts in before he gets the chance. “Save it for later, lover girl. Some of us want to hear about those sandwiches.” 

“Oh, they really were better than last year’s,” Spencer begins, now distracted, completely oblivious to Elle’s sarcasm, “Probably because the annual reports showed an increased budget for the global initiatives.”

JJ raises an eyebrow in amused disbelief. “You read the FBI’s annual budget breakdown?”

Spencer looks genuinely surprised by the question. “You don’t?”

Chuckles echo throughout the group and though you smile faintly, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You just can’t help it as the tally marks start to stack up in your mind. One for the way his attention is just a little too distant, his excitement seemingly aimed at everyone but you. Another for every time you wait for his gaze and it doesn’t come. He’s too absorbed in recounting a discussion about deterministic causality he’d had with a keynote speaker. 

Compared to Spencer, who was often so reserved, it was easy to feel like your emotions were too big, too eager. Dragging him, wide-eyed and stammering, up the stairs to Hotch’s office six months ago had been nothing short of a test of strength and sheer determination. You’d been the one to silence him with a gentle kiss to his knuckles, promising him that everything would be okay. You were a live wire compared to him, everyone knew that. Lover girl, they teased, though never cruelly. In the field and out of it—Clingy to a fault, always wearing your heart on your sleeve. 

Lover girl through and through, you wait patiently for Spencer to look your way. 

He doesn’t. 

“Yours or mine?” Spencer asks as you stand side by side on the curb, bags in tow. 

“Think I’ll go to mine,” you reply curtly. You don’t trust yourself to say anything else right now.

“That’s fine. I’ve got an extra day’s worth of clothes with me.”

“You can go home,” you say, cutting him off. It comes off sharper than you intended. Then, softer, as if trying to backtrack, you add, “If you want.”

He looks at you, baffled. “Why would I do that?” 

It’s not a rhetorical question, he genuinely doesn’t understand. Weekends apart have never really been your thing. 

“Because—” You cut yourself off mid-sentence. What could you even say? Because you seem so perfectly fine after 120 hours apart. Because the tally marks said so. Because the scale said so. Instead, you huff an exhale and settle for, “No reason. You look tired. Thought you’d want to go home or something.”

“Again sweetheart. Why would I do that?” he repeats, incredulous. 

You fight off a resigned sigh, though you’re sure he catches it, and pull out your phone. “I’m calling a cab,” you mumble, thumbing at the screen. “Are you coming or not?”

“Yeah, I’ll come with you,” he says, still calm but clearly confused.

“Fine.”

The ride home is quiet, save for the driver’s rambling complaints about freeway traffic at this hour. Normally, you’d be the one to humour any conversations with strangers, chiming in with polite nods and oh, reallys while Spencer watched, bemused by your ability to make small talk with anyone. But today, you’re just not in the mood, leaving poor Spencer to fend for himself.  

Which to his credit, he does—By turning the conversation into a tangent about how traffic patterns correlate with certain hours and commuter behaviour, and delving into a detailed explanation of the queueing theory. He does this till eventually, even the driver goes silent, though whether it’s out of confusion or exhaustion, you’re not quite sure. 

You can feel Spencer’s eyes on you in the silence, flicking toward you every now and then. The concern in his attention does nothing to soothe you. If anything, it only fans the flames of your irritation. When the car finally rolls to a stop outside your building, you hand the driver a $20 bill, wave off the change, and stride toward your door without another word. You’re out before Spencer can even pull his door open.

Inside, you drop your things on the couch resignedly and kick off your shoes without so much as a care. They land in a scattered heap that you don’t bother to fix. Spencer lingers behind you, ever patient.

“What do you want for dinner?” His voice is soft, tentative, as he bends down to pick up your discarded shoes, lining them neatly by the door. “We could order something. Chinese, maybe?”

Spencer knows you well—knows how your mood sours when you’re running on fumes. Particularly on days like this, when your only sustenance has been a cup of crappy coffee and a few stale crackers he’d coaxed you into eating earlier just before you left, bribing you with a quick kiss on the cheek—After checking that nobody else was in the break room, of course. 

Sullen as you are, you can recognise the offer for what it is. It’s sweet. A thoughtful acknowledgement of how well he knows you, how much he cares. He’s offering you a lifeline, a quiet invitation to let the storm pass without forcing you to name it, something you’re evidently trying not to do. 

But tonight, it feels almost patronising. It’s a spotlight on the hurt you can’t quite temper, like he’s trying to fix something you’re not yet ready to admit needs fixing.

“I can run down to the—”

“I’m not hungry.” 

You walk straight into your bedroom without another word, leaving him standing there in the doorway. You hear him exhale quietly, not quite a sigh but close. Probably one of resignation. Another tally mark falls on the scale. 

“Sweetheart,” he starts. You know he’s testing the waters, trying to find an opening. But you don’t look at him, don’t give him anything to work with. “Can we talk?” he asks, his fingers brushing yours as he takes a seat at the edge of your bed.

“Talk about what?” You’ve always been good at feigning ignorance, but the way you pull your hand away from his is anything but subtle. Spencer sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he closes his eyes briefly. He’s clearly exhausted. This is exhausting. You’re clearly exhausting. You can’t help but wonder why you always do this. 

“Was it Elle? Morgan?” he ventures cautiously. “The teasing?”

“They always tease me,” you say with a shrug, your voice dismissive. “I don’t care.”

It’s a half-truth, and you both know it.

Spencer nods slowly as he tries to piece this together. He knows you’re not usually one to let things fester. You’re never angry for long, and even when you are, you laugh it off, always quick to join in on the joke. He knows better than to profile you—it's an unspoken rule within the team and, more importantly, within your relationship. But Spencer’s anything if not desperate to understand.

He watches you slip into the bathroom with a sigh, shoulders dipping. The light flickers on, but you don’t meet your own gaze in the mirror. You’re not angry. That would be easier. There’s something quieter in your eyes. Defeat, maybe. 

“I missed you,” he offers, stepping into the doorway. His tone is softer now, pleading.

“Did you?” It’s almost sarcastic, but not quite. Irritable but undercut by something raw, as though you don’t really believe he did.

Spencer swallows. “You don’t think I missed you?”

“A little hard to tell between the fawning over Lonnie Athens,” you say, wiping mascara from under your lashes. “Or was it the in-depth analysis of sandwich platters?”

It’s a snap, all sharp edges and fire, and for a second, he forgets the minefield he’s meant to be tiptoeing through. Has to bite back a smile. You’ve always been this way—more flame than moth, more lightning than thunder. It’s one of the things he loves most about you.

“Is that what this is about?” The words slip out before he can stop them, and the second they do, he knows. Rookie mistake. Your spine straightens, your jaw sets, and he wants to take it back, rewind, try again.

“This,” you echo, turning to face him. “What exactly do you mean by this?”

Spencer reminds himself that fire is never snuffed out with ice. You douse a flame gently, carefully. So, he steps forward, quieter now, fingers grazing yours before he takes your hand in his, guiding you toward the bed. He doesn’t pull, doesn’t rush, just leads you toward the bed with the same patience he knows you need when you’re fragile and burning.

Regardless, you try to resist, to hold yourself upright. You’re fighting the urge to sink into it—His touch, the bed, all of it. 

“Sweetheart,” Spencer murmurs, taking a seat beside you. “I know you’re not angry. You’re sad. And I’d really like to know why. Tell me, please?”

Deep inside, you know you’re just clinging on to the last embers of your frustration. But it’s hard—impossible, really, when you’re a fire with no kindle left to burn, and Spencer is all soft whispers and gentle hands, featherlight and soothing. 

You hesitate, twisting the fabric of the duvet between your fingers. “I just—I—You were being mean.”

Spencer lets out a slow, quiet breath. Relief, almost. Not because he agrees—He knows himself well enough to be sure that ‘mean’ isn’t the right word. But he knows you well enough to understand what it means when you say it.

Mean is what you say when you’ve been hurt and don’t know how else to put it. 

So he follows your lead. Doesn’t fight it.

“M’sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbles stroking your hand with his thumb. His touch is warm as it is gentle. 

Because it’s not about whether he was mean or not. Spencer knows that. Knows you. Knows that kindness has never been a given for you, knows that you wouldn’t recognise patience if it came knocking. And he knows you well enough to know that you think in some twisted way, that you’ve brought this hurt upon yourself, that you deserve it. 

What matters is that you were hurt. And that’s the one thing he never, ever wants to do.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Can you tell me how I did?”

“You just kept going on and on about the stupid conference. You didn’t even hug me or—And then you—” 

You don’t continue. You can’t. You feel ridiculous. Stupid, even. Mopey and small over something that shouldn’t matter this much. Over the realisation that he doesn’t need you. And why should he? It’s not Spencer’s fault. Not at all. 

His indifference is what it is and what it was. Indifference. It sits like a weight on your bones—Cold, sharp-edged, piercing. He can go 5 days without you. You can’t. The tally marks accumulate, unbidden.

“And then I…?” Spencer prompts gently, prying your fingers from the duvet and replacing the tension with his thumb, tracing slow, soothing circles into your palm instead.

“You ignored me, and I just—” Your voice wavers, frustration bubbling over. "I just felt so—so ignored!"

Wonderful vocabulary. Of course, your words would fail you now.

“And the teasing—I know, I know, I can be impossible sometimes, but I just—I just really missed you! And I get it okay? I’m clingy and you’re not and god forbid anybody else is but it’s because I love you!” You inhale sharply, your hands slipping from his to curl into fists in your lap. “And you didn’t react at all, you didn’t even care! You made me feel like—I thought that you—” 

You cut yourself off before the flurry of tears take over and drown you out. 

Spencer waits a beat, choosing his next words carefully. 

“You thought… that I don’t love you?” His voice isn’t laced with sarcasm, nor does it carry incredulity. It’s a genuine question, as though he’s retracing the moments between you, trying to understand how you could possibly come to such a conclusion.

“No, it’s not that—” you’re quick to say, desperate to correct him. You know Spencer loves you. Of course, you know that. How could you not? It’s Spencer. He loves you like it’s his life mission to show you just how much he loves you. “I know you love—I know that. I just—” 

You bury your face in your hands, fingers pressing into the hollows beneath your eyes—A feeble attempt at hiding.

Because it’s utterly, bone-deep terrifying. To look into the eyes of the person you love most in the world and feel the weight of a possibility that you might love them more than they love you.

To want to shout: Love me. Please love me, and please feel it with every fibre of your being as I do with mine. The kind of love that makes you want to scream from rooftops, to etch it into the sky, to burn the world down just to prove its enormity. 

Because then the question comes: Which would be worse?

To shout into the vast, open air and hear nothing in response? No echo of the same intensity. Or to stand amidst the smouldering ashes only to look into their eyes and find they don’t recognise you anymore? To see confusion or pity where love used to live.

You blink your watery eyes open, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you settle on the knobs of your knees, tracing their shape with your gaze. 

Anything but Spencer. Not right now. 

You take a sharp breath, steadying yourself before continuing.

“Sometimes, I feel like you don’t need me as much as I need you and that scares me. And I know it’s stupid, even I feel stupid thinking about it. I don’t even want to be codependent or whatever but I—I just can’t help but think that sometimes—” 

Your breath shudders out of you, long and uneven, “I love you more than you love me.”

To say Spencer feels his heart break would be an understatement. It’s not a clean break, not a single, shattering moment—it’s a slow, relentless unraveling. It’s a gut punch, pain and duress packed tight, failure laced in every syllable. His heart shatters, splintering into pieces so sharp they lodge in his throat, in his lungs, in every part of him that has ever loved you. 

Silently, he’s always known the teasing would hit a breaking point. You’ve worn that insecurity for as long as he’s known you—too young, too green, too desperate to prove yourself. He just didn’t think it would carve its way between you the two of you like this. He’s watched you lean into it, let the jokes land, let them chip away at you. Newbie. Rookie. Lover girl. As if laughing along might soften the edges of it all. 

You flop onto your back on the bed, boneless, the confession stealing the last of your fight. There’s a splotch of blue paint on the ceiling from last month, when you both tried to repaint the room and got distracted halfway through. It doesn’t make you smile, not even  a little.

“That’s not true.” The mattress dips under Spencer’s weight as he settles beside you, thumb tracing your hairline. His arm moves, coaxing you to toward him, gentle in the way only he knows how to be with you.

“You’re not impossible, sweetheart, you never are. And I know they tease,” he murmurs, fingers of his other hand grazing over your knuckles, “but I also know for a fact that you don’t fall apart without me when I’m gone. That would be co-dependency. And I know that’s not you. You passed your requalifications with flying colors while I was away,” he says. “Garcia sent me the records. You know you even beat Morgan’s old score?” 

You sniffle, startled. That had been your surprise. You’d wanted to tell him yourself. 

“She told you?” 

He shakes his head. “I asked. I always ask for updates on you when I can’t be there.”

A small “Oh,” is all you can get out. 

With every other guy you dated, you’d attempted to play it cool, dialling down your enthusiasm, biting back your texts, and pretending to care less than you did. But every relationship seemed to end the same way: you were “a lot” and they weren’t equipped to handle it. It never quite stuck though, and thank god for that. 

Because then you met Spencer.

Sweet, steady Spencer, who didn’t just tolerate your spark but cherished it. Spencer, who had let you cling to his hand during every takeoff and landing on the jet the first week on the job. He never flinched, never teased—Even when everyone else casted him sympathetic looks, the kind that silently acknowledged how your grip was probably cutting off his circulation. Spencer who has kept every scrawled doodle and note you’ve ever given for him, even the ones scribbled haphazardly on napkins or receipts. He knows carbon prints fade within months so he stores them in a shoebox tucked away in his cupboard—Just so they can last that much longer. 

Spencer didn’t just accept the parts of you others found overwhelming. He singlehandedly brought them back to life. Every bit of your spark that had been dimmed or snuffed out by someone else had found new light in his presence.

Spencer’s fingers tighten around yours, a quiet kind of reassurance that draws you back to the present. 

“Being clingy is not the same as being codependent. I know you know that. There’s a clear psychological difference in brain chemistry.” His lips twitch, the smallest hint of a smile slipping through. “You’re clingy, yes. But I love that about you. I love coming home with you. I love coming home to you. I love how hard you love me, how proudly you love me. I know I haven’t been the best at reciprocating that around the team, and I’m sorry. I hate that I made you feel like I didn’t love you, or miss you.”

He shifts closer, eyes searching yours, open and earnest. “Because I did miss you. So much. I nearly blew a month’s paycheck in the gift shop. Spent half of it stocking up on those jelly crackers you told me about.” He shakes his head, like he can’t believe himself. “Morgan said I was whipped when I paid thirty bucks for a pair of souvenir socks.”

With a raise of your eyebrow you ask tearily, “and exactly how many pairs did you buy?” 

“Got you three pairs.” A sheepish little laugh escapes him as he ducks his head. 

And just like that, you’re smiling too. Albeit a small one, but that’s progress nonetheless. “And I don’t think you quite understand how much I love you when you say you love me more.” He leans in, his voice dropping, teasing. “I don’t know if you know this about me, but I’m very competitive.”

“Oh, so I’ve heard Doctor Reid,” you quip, eyes rolling. Spencer’s lips curve, just slightly. You don’t even notice the way you press closer to him, but Spencer does. He takes the opportunity to go on.

“In a way, you’re right. I don’t need you,” Spencer says. Whiplash doesn’t even begin to describe the way your head snaps toward him. Flame and lighting, no doubt. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he says quickly, his expression already twisting in regret. “I shouldn’t have phrased it like that.”

“I don’t see what other way you could possibly phrase something like that,” you snap pettily, already pushing yourself up to stand. 

“Hey, hey.” His hand reaches out, not quite grabbing yours but close enough to make you pause. “Lie back down, honey. Please.” 

Against your better judgment, you relent, sinking back into the bed. “What I meant to say was, I don’t need you,” he repeats, slower this time, deliberate.

You scoff, a bitter laugh slipping through your lips as you swipe harshly at your damp lashes. “I get it, Spencer. Clearly you don’t.”

“No, I don’t think you do,” he says, his voice unwavering. “Biologically speaking, I wouldn’t cease to exist without you. My heart would continue to beat, my lungs would continue to expand and contract, my brain would maintain its synaptic functions. I would survive.” He pauses then, eyes searching yours, “And can I tell you something?”

You don’t answer, but you don’t pull away either. He takes that as permission to go on. “You don’t need me either.” 

Your lips part, the beginnings of a protest forming, but he cuts you off gently.

“I know you said you do, but your autonomic nervous system would still regulate your breathing, your neurons would still fire, your body would persist.” He swallows, voice dipping lower. “But that’s not the point, is it? Love isn’t about biological necessity. It’s not about survival. It’s about choice.” 

The word "choice" feels almost ironic when it comes from Spencer Reid. You knew that the moment you met him. It was never really a choice, not for you. It was him, or nothing. Desperately, you'd like to think it was the same for him, too.

Your answer comes in the form of his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. He’s patient, always, even when you aren’t. Kind in a way that sinks deep—Like you deserve it. You’re all sharp edges, brittle and worn, and he’s five days off a lumpy hotel mattress, yet the only thing he cares about is brushing away the tears from your skin. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t love you because I need you. I don’t think that would be love at all. That’s survival. I love you because I choose you to,” he continues. “Because you are the strongest person I know. Because you are kind, even when the world hasn’t been kind to you. Because you give so much of yourself without hesitation, without ever expecting anything in return.” 

Spencer smiles, shaking his head. “Because you’re the only person I know who will spend thirty minutes on a call recounting every little thing everyone did in the office that you think I’d like to hear about—before you even think to tell me about your own day.”

“It was funny! Since when has Hotch ever tripped on the stairs?”

It’s unfair really, how easily his laugh breathes life back into you. Your heart stumbles over itself as his hand brushes tenderly along your jaw. 

“I’ve spent every day in awe of you since the moment I met you. And I fall in love with you more and more with each one. Even on the days I’m not with you. Even on the days I’m miles away. Even then.” Spencer presses his lips against the back of your hand as he adds, “Especially then.” 

“Really?”

You can’t help it, the quiet little thing in you that wants to hear it again. 

Your tears have dried, but their traces still shimmer faintly on your skin. Spencer presses a kiss to your forehead, his fingers tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He’d say it again. A hundred times. He’d make that speech a thousand times over, if you needed him to. If it meant you’d never doubt it again.

“Really, my love.”

And just like that, a million tally marks fall at your feet.

A million for the way he presses another kiss to your lips, unrushed. A million more for the way his nose bumps against yours, lingering, breathing you in. Another million for the spark that creeps back into your eyes. 

It’s infinite, unbound, unquantifiable—The way he loves you, the sheer depth of it. You feel foolish for ever having questioned it. You thank your lucky stars—all of them—for Spencer Reid. For the way he’s looking at you like you strung the constellations together yourself. For the way he chooses you, again and again, even when you don’t choose him, when you shut down, when you go quiet. 

Because love to Spencer isn’t desperation, isn’t need—it’s choice. The deliberate, unwavering act of reaching out, of staying, and of saying over and over: I choose you. 

Not because he has to, but because he wants to. To be the one to put you back together again when you’re all embers and ash, to cradle you back onto earth when stare past him into the ceiling, to remind you that there’s still warmth in you left to hold.

To breathe the spark back into your eyes—It’s a choice he made the very moment he met you. It’s a spark Spencer swears he’d spend his whole life keeping alight.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: daylight by taylor swift intrapersonal by turnover

[angelfishe]

#𝐀𝐃𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Vil schoinet x reader

Before you were teleported into NRC, you were a writer as well a popular illustrator. You decide to upload one of your most Popular works at twisted wonderland about a love story with a villain. Eventually it blew up in the media, changing the standard of how the media view villains. As well changing his life view forever.

( this is so rush, I'm so sorry )

You never have expected to be teleported into a world of magic it seems to be fictional but it's real, sadly you didn't get any abilities but on the bright side you don't have any deadlines to worry about I'm pretty much sure your coworkers are dealing with your story publishing.

Recently you got bored and decided to re write one of your most popular works and publish it into the media of this world, believing it wouldn't change anything.

The next few days your work has taken over the world, it gotten very popular due to having a unique setting and plot.

One thing you realize about this world is that they glorilize the heroine over the villain which is something you're not surprised because this is literally Disney. Why would they choose the innocent petite character when they could have the dark strong and hot villain. But still back in your world many would still simp for the villains in Disney.

It has taken the world by storm changing people how they view villains, finally finding the dark mysterious character attractive instead of the pure and innocent character stealing the spotlight from them.

Meanwhile vil realizes that his magicam account has been getting more likes than ever and saying that he looks like the male lead in your manhwa, I mean you were inspired to change their appearance to look exactly like vil because I mean look at him.

Vil decided to check the manhwa and insteadly falls inlove, on how they make the villain into the male lead as well a reasonable and loveable character, everyone is in love with him.

What part that makes him fall In love is because of how he finally sees the character staying till the end of the show getting the happily ever after they finally craved.

Soon many stories start the villain as its shining star pops out in a few weeks even though there are many short animations about the series, vil got the entire film study club to be involved and recreate one of his favorite scenes in the series.

It changed his whole world even the entire world on their views towards the villains, he wants to meet the author the bad part is he's unable to know because the author/ you is anonymous always keeping their private life close towards them never showing it towards the public.

But you may have left a slip up at that point you as being the author, during lunch you were looking panels on one of the scenes in the newest episode in the manhwa and epel was sitting right beside you surprisingly he was allowed due to vil being in a good mood.

Epel look over your shoulder and ask what you were doing while believing it was a normal question saying about how you were looking at panels for your manhwa, epel look at it and instantly recognize the character well because vil wouldn't stop rambling about it.

And in cue rook decided to drop by and also have a look at the panel he immediately looked at epel with a confused on what to do meanwhile you were still minding your business unaware of what's happening in both of the pomifiore students.

One day epel told you to come to pomifiore because he said he's housewarden wants to meet you. And low and behold vil is waiting sitting across a couch with teas and sweets on the table.

When you took a seat at the couch across from him he asked as If you were the author towards the popular manhwa and you confirmed it believing it's nothing special.

Vil ask why would you prefer the villain over the hero and you gave your reason was due to them being overshadowed, as well misunderstood as being a character. As a writer your job is to fully understand a person's character even tho they commit questionable things. You have to understand a person to write them perfectly.

And he was stunt and then he sends you a smile and says he needs your help about your manhwa as well saying both of you are gonna get along.

[ultramaga]

Rich doesn't mean much. I'll give an example. If a middle class Westerner travels, they find they are considered a target in most places, because - compared to the people elsewhere - they are rich. Growing up, I had relatives that had computers, that would get a decent stereo system, that had caviar a few times a year and they would travel overseas on holidays. That seemed insanely wealthy to me. They travelled to Beverly Hills at one stage, just to look around, only to be picked up by the police immediately. Why? Because compared to the locals, they looked poor.

I think it was Rupert Murdoch who was in a lift with a billionaire who was boasting about gambling while they were in Las Vegas. Murdoch offered to wager a billion dollars on something. The other man declined. A billionaire is wealthy but is nothing compared to the people who are at the top. And even then it could be argued that there are higher elites, since there are men and women who can order the billionaires of their country to give them their property and assets and kneel on the chopping board. Xi, in China, is an absolute dictator not seen since Mao. If he wants anything you have, it is his.

I don't know if there's any level of wealth where you don't worry. Rich people can and are embezzled or just robbed, to the point of poverty. And you can become a prime candidate for kidnapping. I knew a woman who had been rich all her life, but lost everything because an accountant her family had always trusted had quietly moved everything overseas, then disappeared, leaving them destitute.

And one thing that was near universal with lottery winners was that after a year or so, they had nothing to show for it, or were actually worse off. Sudden wealth means disaster if you don't know how to manage not only money, but the sudden pressure from relatives etc to spend it on them. One thing they noticed in Australia was that the old Housing Commision here was a failure for aboriginals. Why? Because the indigenous culture was communist. So as soon as you had anything, it was someone else's, and they would come over and trash your stuff. Aboriginals just wrecked all the free housing they were given because they didn't value any of it, and the few who tried to climb out of the crab bucket were pulled back down. The government has moved since to more providing rent assistance, which is horrible for the disabled because it is quite legal for real estates to discriminate against them, and they are inclined to because disability covers people with severe mental illness, or drug addictions, where they will trash whatever accomodation they are in, or steal from their neighbours, or even burn down the place trying to make meth. So how much is wealthy? A million in assets? That barely gets you a house in Sydney. A billion? Great - but you can be wiped out by illness or divorces. In fact, divorce seems to be the likely fate for any male, meaning they become poorer, meaning they have less assets, less chance of finding a new mate ...

And then you can be arrested and imprisoned because the judge doesn't care what you do earn, they care what you hypothetically might earn according the judge's estimations, and they don't care if their beliefs don't match the reality. If the judge thinks your wife deserves twenty million a year for pedicures, but you can only earn ten, ten million dollars is poverty.

Oliver Warbucks: STILL, I’VE BEEN RICH AND POOR, AND A POOR MAN SURE HAS A LOT LESS TO WORRY ABOUT- Annie: YEAH- AND A LOT LESS TO EAT, SOME TIMES- I’D RATHER WORRY ‘BOUT A FEW MILLIONS I HAD THAN ‘BOUT HOW TO GET TWO BITS-

[itsnesss]

𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 | miguel diaz × fem!reader

summary | you accompany miguel to visit his newborn sister at the hospital. as you witness miguel's tender and protective side, you feel your connection with him grow deeper

warnings | fluff, heartwarming moments

word count | 1.1 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You had never seen Miguel so excited.

From the moment he received the news that his little sister had been born, he hasn’t stopped smiling. It’s a refreshing change, especially after so many weeks when he was worried about exams, competitions, and everything else. Now, he’s radiant, full of energy and happiness. It’s contagious because even though you don’t say it out loud, his enthusiasm makes butterflies flutter in your stomach.

"Are you ready?" he asks with a smile so wide that his dimples are charmingly marked as he holds the hospital door open for you to enter.

You nod, a mix of excitement and nervousness filling you. It’s not your first time in a hospital, but this occasion is special. Miguel invited you to meet his newborn sister, Laura, and that means more than anyone could imagine. You know how important his family is to him, and for him to choose you to share this moment makes you feel like you’re part of something much bigger.

"You know," he starts to say while walking down the long hallways, "when my mom told me she was having a baby, I was a little worried."

"Why?" you ask curiously.

"I don’t know, I thought it would be weird. I’ve been an only child my whole life, and suddenly, I was going to have to share my mom, my grandma... everything," he admits, shrugging his shoulders. "But then I realized... I don’t know, I like the idea of having someone I’m going to take care of. Like... a team."

Your heart melts a little. Miguel has always had that protective side, the one that makes everyone around him feel safe, and thinking of him taking care of his little sister like she’s his greatest treasure makes you smile.

"You’re going to be a great brother," you say sincerely. "Laura is lucky to have you."

He looks at you, his smile softening.

"Do you think so?"

"I know so," you reply without hesitation.

When you reach the elevator, Miguel presses the button, and as you wait, you realize that he hasn’t let go of your hand since you left the car. It’s a small gesture, but significant. It makes you feel calm, connected to him in a way you don’t need to explain. You’re just there, next to him, on one of the most important days of his life.

The elevator arrives, and you both step in. Miguel checks his phone quickly, reading a message from his mom telling him what room they’re in. You see him take a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself.

"Nervous?" you ask, giving him a gentle nudge with your shoulder.

"A little," he admits, laughing softly. "It’s weird, right? I’ve been waiting for this moment for months, but now that it’s here... I just want everything to be perfect."

"It already is perfect," you say without thinking too much.

He looks at you with a mix of gratitude and something else, something that makes your heart skip a beat. Before you can try to decipher that look, the doors open, and you both walk toward the room.

Carmen is sitting in the hospital bed with a small pink blanket wrapped around her arms. Her face is tired, but her expression is serene and happy. She smiles warmly at you as she sees you enter.

"Hey! So glad you came," she says softly.

"Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Díaz," you reply shyly, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the importance of the moment.

Miguel immediately approaches his mother and leans in to get a better look at the baby. You stay a few steps back, watching with your heart pounding in your chest.

"Hello, Laura," Miguel whispers with a softness you’ve never heard from him before. "I brought someone really special to meet you."

Your chest tightens with tenderness as you watch the little creature in his arms stir slightly. Her skin is soft, and her cheeks are rosy, like the most fragile thing in the world.

"Come on, come closer," Miguel says, looking at you sweetly.

You step forward, almost afraid to breathe too loudly. Miguel gestures for you to sit next to him, and when you do, he leans a little closer to you so you can see the baby better.

"She’s... so small," you whisper, fascinated.

"I know," Miguel laughs. "I can’t believe I’ve been waiting so long to meet her, and now she’s here."

Carmen watches you both with affection, and then looks at Miguel.

"Do you want to hold her?"

He nods immediately, but before picking her up, he turns to you with a mischievous look.

"Do you want to try holding her first?"

Your heart races.

"Me?"

"Yeah. My mom says holding a baby is the best experience in the world."

You glance at Carmen uncertainly, and she nods with an encouraging smile.

"If you want, of course. Just be careful with her head."

You take a deep breath before nodding. Carmen passes you the little Laura with extreme delicacy, and when you finally have her in your arms, it feels like the whole world has stopped.

"She’s so light," you murmur, feeling more protective than you’ve ever felt.

Miguel watches the scene with an expression of absolute tenderness.

"She looks good with you," he says softly.

Your chest warms at his words, and when you look up at him, his expression is different. There’s something else there, something deep and sincere, something that makes you feel like this moment means as much to him as it does to you.

Laura stirs slightly in your arms, and when you look at her, her little mouth opens in a small yawn. Your heart melts completely.

"I think she likes you," Miguel whispers, coming a little closer to you.

"You think so?" you ask softly, smiling as you gently stroke the baby’s cheek with the back of your finger.

"Yeah. And... I think I do too," says Miguel, his voice almost a whisper.

Your gaze locks with his, and the air between you changes. There are so many things that could be said, so many emotions floating in that moment, but no words seem enough.

"Thanks for bringing me," you finally say, breaking the silence with a sincere whisper.

"I couldn’t imagine this moment without you," he replies.

His words take you by surprise, and you feel your heart beating fast in your chest. Miguel has always been sweet and attentive, but this... this is different. This is intimate, real.

Laura shifts a little more in your arms, and Miguel laughs softly.

"I think she wants me to hold her now," he jokes.

Carefully, you pass the baby to him, and you watch how he holds her with infinite tenderness. The way he looks at her, as if she’s the most precious thing in the world, makes something inside you melt completely.

You stay silently watching him, committing the moment to memory. And while you see him whispering sweet words to his little sister, you know, without a doubt, that you’ve just fallen for Miguel Díaz a little more.

[count-on-mi]

Twice Interactive Story Part 14 Push & Pull (Jihyo, Feat. Sana, Dahyun)

You put a penguin doll in Mina's arm before you leave quietly, you see Mina smiles again when she gets something in her arms again.

You get in your car and check your phone to see did anyone find you, Nayeon is not on the list. There are messages from Dahyun, Momo and Jihyo.

Dahyun 'Oppa, I am coming over tonight, remember pick me up!'

Jihyo 'Y/N, are you ok? I saw Nayeon cries when she back home last night, and she leaves again this morning.'

Momo 'Y/N, why would Nayeon know our relationship, you told her? She send me this' Momo's message and attached with a photo of Nayeon's selfie when you are fucking in doggy style just two nights before with a message 'Leave my boyfriend alone.'

You finally understand why she will stop moving for a while suddenly that time, she was taking photos.

I check how long ago the message from Dahyun was and respond accordingly. I tell Jihyo that things have changed and she doesn't have to worry about it. I tell Momo that I didn't tell Nayeon anything and that I just told her that I still went to you as a personal trainer. After all that I go home quickly to change.

You reply to Dahyun that you are going to pick her up tonight and reply to others accordingly.

You arrived home and see Jihyo resting on the sofa, 'Welcome back, Y/N. What happened yesterday, Nayeon leaves in the morning before I wake up.' You did not reply but immediately check your wardrobe, Nayeon did not bring her belongings back to her home, is it means there is still a chance for you?

"It’s nothing Jihyo, don't worry about it. My relationship status may have changed, so sex might be off the table now." I tell Jihyo as I poke my head out from my room. I start to pack Nayeon's clothes in a bag or suitcase before I have to pick up Dahyun.

'I'm definitely not asking for sex now, Y/N. But did Nayeon just find out that you have friends with benefits, I can feel it from her reactions. It's just like me before.' Jihyo comes in and helps you pack Nayeon's belongings.

"It was one person particularly. Nayeon sent a message to them about staying away from me. That being said that doesn't change anything with you staying here that way Daniel doesn't find you. Also my sisters are staying for a while." After I finish packing, I check the time.

Seeing still have some time left before you going to pick up Dahyun, you and Jihyo back to living room for some coffee.

Jihyo and you just chit-chat while waiting, 'I'm curious Y/N, if you have one more chance, will you still hook up with other girls and then break up with Nayeon? She's definitely not like me that can tolerate so much time.'

"There are two paths, if it's relationship over I'm just going to be single for a while. If she chooses to stay with me for some reason, I'll won't do it again. I've learned my lesson. If you don't kind my asking, why did you deal with it for so long?"

Jihyo looks at the ground when she hears your question, 'I once believed he will change for me, I innocently thought the marriage could make him tied to me, but I was wrong.'

'So you and Nayeon have officially broken up? Maybe we two injured souls can try to be together?' Jihyo teases you.

I chuckle before looking away "I don't know if we are broken up, if we are I wouldn't mind trying with you. But would you really be willing to try again with someone like me?"

'You know you are playboy too huh, Y/N?' Jihyo spanks your shoulder and giggles. 'I don't know, my heart always comes before my mind. But I guess I have a lot of competitors, your colleague, your friend with benefits, and also your little secretary. Mina is so obvious you know?'

"Mina does make it obvious, she'd be your biggest challenge. She's always so helpful and willing to put me first. She should really find someone better." I say with a laugh.

'Maybe She thinks you are the best for her.' Jihyo smirks and looks at the clock, '30 minutes before you got to go, a quick one?' Jihyo comes closer to you and sits on your lap.

"I don't know, what if Nayeon comes back?"

'OK, so you gonna abstinence until you know the results? Can you do it, haha? Jihyo catches your cock before she backs to her room, 'I will miss you, big guy.'

'Hey, Y/N, better finish dinner with your sister before coming back, don't wanna act like your new girlfriend when we first meet, so awkward.'

"Yeah, I will." I walk out of the apartment and head to my car to get to the airport early.

You waiting for Dahyun at the terminal while playing your phone, and you receive Momo's message that she wants to see you tonight. When you wanna reply to her, you see Dahyun rushing to you, 'Oppa!'

'Hey, Dubu, still so tiny huh.' 'Yah, Oppa.' Dahyun wants to hit your head but she's too short to reach it, so she just hit your chest.'

'Where is Nayeon eooni, I thought she is with you already.' Dahyun turns around and try to search for Nayeon.

"She won't be around Dahyun. Let's get you something to eat. What do you want to eat?" I ask to distract her.

You help Dahyun get the suitcase and guide her to your car. 'I miss the food you cook, Oppa. How about you cook for me.'

Remember what Jihyo told you, you only can reject Dahyun's request. 'Sorry, Dubu, not many ingredients left at home, maybe next time? We will just casually eat tonight.'

'Ok... I forgot how long did we last meet each other, you are much thinner, so much stress on work?'

'Nah, Dubu, just as usual, I'm fine. Did you start finding jobs, you have graduated for half a year already.'

'Ummm, I am trying, just give me sometime, oppa. I am working on it.'

"Ah Dubu, you need to look harder. And if you don't choose a place to eat I'll choose." I say as I start driving.

You drive to a random restaurant and have dinner with Dahyun, you two talk about all the things that happened from last time you meet.

'OH, Oppa, I guess I don't need to share a room with Chaeyoung, right? if Nayeon eooni is not here.' Dahyun smirks.

Your home has 3 rooms, usually, Chaeyoung and Dahyun need to sleep together when Nayeon is staying, as you don't want to cause any embarrassment to your sisters, although Nayeon is not here, now Jihyo has occupied 1 of them, maybe it's time that you should tell Dahyun you have a guest.

I explain to Dahyun the situation Jihyo is going through and that she will have to share a room with Chaeyoung.

'OH, come on, Oppa, I have expected I can have my own room at your home.' Dahyun shows a sad face. You caress Dahyun's head, 'Dubu is a good girl, right? You should understand what situation Jihyo is facing, you won't be happy too right?  And you can occupy the room until Chae arrives, don't be sad!'

'Yes, but does Nayeon eooni knows you bring a girl home?' You are a little bit frustrated that Dahyun is keep mentioning Nayeon.

"Dahyun, Nayeon and I are going through a rough patch right now. I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention her." We finish the meals and begin our ride home.

Dahyun's emotions are hard to describe, but you can catch her happiness before it disappears when she hear Nayeon and you have some arguments. You two did not talk about Nayeon again through the dinner.

You two finished the dinner and ready to back home. 'Oppa, what if we buy some snacks and watch movie together tonight?' In the meantime, you remember Momo wants to see you tonight either.

I quickly send Momo a message and ask if we could meet another time for the reason that I'm picking up Dahyun from the airport.

'Y/N, I am just so afraid that why Nayeon will know what happens, if you can't come today, how about tomorrow.' Momo replies immediately. You then drive to some snacks before back to home.

Jihyo is sitting on the sofa again when you arrive, 'OH hi Y/N, and little sister, your brother should have mentioned about me, Nice to meet you, sorry for disturbing your family day.'

I send Momo another message to say I'll meet her tomorrow, then I introduce Dahyun to Jihyo. I ask Dahyun "Dahyun would it be alright if Jihyo joined us for the movie?"

'Sure Oppa, your friend is my friend too.' Then you three sit on the sofa and start watching the movie.

You sit between Jihyo and Dahyun, each of you covering a blanket or pillow while enjoying the movie. You suddenly feel Jihyo 's chest pressing on your arm, you turn around to check Dahyun, she is too focusing on the movie and not paying attention to you.

Jihyo put a finger on her lips, tell you to keep quiet, and start caressing your cock under the blanket.

I keep quiet recognizing that if I said anything it would give it all away.

Jihyo is happy that you are so obedience and not making any noise, she put your hands into your pants and start stroking you slowly.

Seeing your body shivers from the sensation, Jihyo blows hot winds into your ear and whispers to you, 'You seems so excited when I am stroking you next to your baby sister, enjoying it?'

I whisper back "stop it, you're going to get us in trouble."

'Relax, Y/N. Let me handle it, Dahyun won't know what's happening, she loves the movie so much.' Jihyo starts stroking you faster.

You try your best to not release any moans, but Jihyo's hand is really good, and you wanna cum. Jihyo feels your cock pulsing in her hands, 'Cum for me, I am ready.' Jihyo then kisses you to cover your moan.

I cum in Jihyo’s hand, I'm grateful for the kiss as I'd otherwise release a huge moan. Once we break it off, I whisper to her "I'm going to get you back for this."

'Wow so many, you are really so excited, don't you?' Jihyo pulls out her hand and start licking it. 'You know where to find me if you want to thank me.' Jihyo whispers again before she moves to bathroom to clean her hands.

You notice Dahyun is still focusing on the movie and doesn't know Jihyo has left for bathroom.

As much as I want to get Jihyo back at this moment, I keep myself in my seat for a time before going to the bathroom.

You wait for Jihyo's return before you go to the bathroom to tidy up yourself, Dahyun finally out of her concentration and wanna sit closer to you.

'Oppa, that part is so good, isn't it? The tension is so strong.' Dahyun tries to talk about the film, but actually you are totally into Jihyo's handjob at that moment, so you could just simply answer her yes.

'Oppa, the smell is so strange suddenly, what is it?' Dahyun turning around to check what smelling strange in the living room.

"I'm not sure, did you fart Dahyun?" I joke to her, as I make sure she shouldn't see anything.

'Ya, Oppa!' Dahyun spanks you and then move back to her seat. You just giggle and start watching the movie. Finally, Jihyo has come out from the bathroom, you rush inside immediately before Dahyun could find out anything.

The rest of the night just spend normally, all of you are going to bed after movie has ended. You see Jihyo winks at you before she enters her room.

I help Dahyun get set up in her room before going back to my own.

You help Dahyun unpack her luggage, and you see some formal dressing in her suitcase, Dahyun pushes you out before you ask any questions. 'Now get out, let my enjoy my own room.'

'Aren't you have whole of the house when Chae is living in dorm, huh?'

'That's different, Oppa. Goodnight.'

You go back to your room, laying on your bed, ready to end the day. Your phone buzzes, and it's Sana message.

'I heard you have some fun with Mina alone today huh? On sick leave together and she applies it for you. The office is talking about you two again, I wish I was there too.' Sana attached a photo of her opening her clits for you.

"I was hungover from the night before Sana. I was in no condition to come in." After I respond, I just lay back and relax for a minute.

'Oh, sex after drunk? I wanna try with you too.' Sana attaches a video this time, a self cam in a high angle, she is not wearing bra in the pajamas, you can see her nipples clearly while she is playing with her tits.

"Sana just get some sleep." I delete the conversation logs after keeping things safe for myself.

'It's Friday night, why can't I have some fun before I sleep?' Sana sends you another video where she is sucking her finger while looking at the camera seductively.

You back up the video to the locked folder and prepare to clear the message log again, Sana's text comes again, 'Maybe we can try phone sex tonight? If Mina or your girlfriend is not beside you😏😏'

"Not interested Sana. You enjoy yourself." I respond before I head to the kitchen to make myself a snack.

You head to Kitchen and grab some chocolate for night snacks, you check your conversation logs with Nayeon, she still hasn’t online since last night.

You sigh and return to your room, you see Jihyo slightly opens the door of her room, enough for you to peek inside.

I look at the door debating if I should go, but first I check on Dahyun. Putting my ear to her door to see if she's awake or not.

You hear no sound from Dahyun's room, she should be asleep already. You back to the corridor and your phone buzzes again, It's Sana again.

This time the video is she masturbating with a dildo and moaning your name, 'having a dildo in my pussy, but it's nothing when comparing with you.'

"Sana, nothing is going to compare to me" and then emoji with the tongue sticking out is what I respond with. I put my phone to vibrate only and then I head back to Jihyo’s room.

You slowly enter Jihyo's room and lock the door. Jihyo is sleeping on her bed, with a sexy lace pajamas, you can see her got body inside the pajamas. You don't understand why Daniel would still hook up with others even he has a such needy and hot wife at home.

I get beside Jihyo and pull down her pajama bottoms before I start teasing her pussy. I get my other hand ready to cover her mouth, so she doesn't make noise.

Jihyo wakes up from your assault, she grabs your hand on her mouth in her pajamas to play with her tits and turns around to make out with you. You can see the lust burning in her eyes, seems she is really needy as her husband ignores her for a long time.

"Seems like you really want this Jihyo." I say as my fingers go under her panties and inside if her.

'Stop teasing me, Y/N! Put it In!' Jihyo bites your lips and row over you, wanting to ride you.

Her tits keep bouncing as she breathes heavily, you put your hand on it and start playing with it.

I roll her over so I'm on top again. Covering her mouth again, and thrusting my fingers into her pussy. "Oh no, Jihyo. You teased me earlier, it's my turn."

Jihyo's tits till bouncing, her body twists due to the sensation, 'Ah, faster Y/N, please put it in. At least I let you cum.' Jihyo starts to moan louder to contest your teasing.

"Don't worry I'll let you cum." I say as I kiss her. "Get any louder and I'll stop right now." I continue kissing Jihyo to make her be quiet.

Jihyo cannot hide her moan so she just grab your head to kiss harder, you are feeling her become tighter, you thrust your finger faster until she reaches her orgasm.

'Ummm....' Jihyo moans in your mouth when she reaches her orgasm, you finally let go of her lips and let her catch her breath, but still slowly thrust your finger in her pussy.

Her bouncing tits are so eye-catching, so you just can't wait to suck her nipples.

As much as I want to continue this I continue, i pull my fingers out and have Jihyo suck them clean before I leave.

You let Jihyo clean your fingers before you leave, 'What? That's all?' Jihyo looks in disbelief when she sees you leaving her room.

"Yep, I just wanted to get back at you." I walk back over to her, rub her pussy again. "Don't you worry, I'll make sure to fill you up next time." I kiss her cheek and then leave.

'I wear this pajama for you, Y/N. Even Daniel hasn't seen me wearing it.' Jihyo said with a sad face. You comeback and give her one more kiss and leave eventually.

You back to your room and finally start to sleep, it's already midnight. You think about tomorrow's date with Momo before you fall asleep.

I'll wake the next morning well rested and ready for the day.

[prettylynnpup]

The Roommate

"C'monnn... Why is it taking it this long to come home?" You wondered aloud to yourself. Your roommate usually gets home from work around 7, and you watch your shows and eat together around 7:30. It's now 7:45 and there's absolutely no sign of it.

"Is something wrong? Is it safe? God I hope nothing happened-"

You're cut off by a *knock* at the door, proceeded by the jingling of keys. It usually knocks when it gets home to let you know that it's there. Thank god, it's home!

"You're here! I was waiting so long Lynn, what kept you?" You hopped out of your seat at the couch and excited walked toward the door.

"Wait, you actually waited for me?" There's a bit of surprise in its voice. Why is Lynn surprised you waited for it? Of course you did! Routine is very important to you, and you would keep telling yourself that "routine" is the only reason you waited. It's embarrassing to have feelings for your roommate, after all.

"Uh, yeah. We normally have dinner at 7:30 and I was just starting to get worried... I m-mean, you know how important these routines are to me!" You looked at it with those doe eyes of yours. You really wanted to hammer home how upset you were about your routine being missed without warning.

"Okay, look, I know I was gone but I promise it was just to get gas. First I stopped at that place on Mangrove, but they were having issues with their card readers so I had to go all the way to Lowans Drive."

"Out to Lowans??? Was there really not another gas station closer?" It doesn't often happen that the gas stations aren't working around here, so you're extremely surprised to hear that Lynn had to go somewhere 20 minutes away from here just for gas.

"Yeah... Regardless of where I went or how long it took, I'm gonna make it up to you, okay?" Lynn promised. You suddenly realize that it's been holding a bag this whole time.

"Hey, uh, what's in that bag?"

Lynn taps your forehead. "Don't worry about it."

Worry about what? What were we talking about?

"What do you want for dinner, hon?" Lynn asks. You blush a little at the pet name, and struggle to bring your mind to the question at hand.

"Uh, what options do we have?" You'd rather know what you're working with so you can make an informed decision.

"Well, there's those leftover shrimp tacos, the rotisserie chicken, ramen, hot dogs, or we could run out somewhere together if you'd like," Lynn lists for you.

"Can we finish off those shrimp tacos? I'd rather fish not sit in our fridge for too long." You reminisce on the Tuna Salad incident... What a terrible day that was to have a working nose.

"Absolutely, do you wanna set up Jojo while I cook?" Lynn asks.

"Yeah, I can do that." You answer, setting off on your respective tasks.

-

You've both settled in for dinner and are eating while watching anime. It's a very comfortable silence shared between you and Lynn - you've done this hundreds of times before, after all.

"Hey, uh, I'd like to explain the real reason I was late."

You look over at it. The real reason?

"It wasn't to get gas?" You'd been so willing to just believe it, so it almost hurts a bit that it lied to you.

"It wasn't." Lynn pulls out the bag from earlier. Opening it and pulling out the contents, you see a collar, leash, and edibles.

"I was hoping that we could, maybe, try something tonight?" It looks at you so sweetly, but you can tell there's something nefarious going on under that look.

"T-try what?" You stammer back. Fuck, the implications of this have you flustered. What in the world would Lynn want to 'try' with you with those three items?

Lynn taps your forehead again. It gets a bit harder to think. H-how did it do that?

"Well, I was hoping to, maybe uh, have you as my pet tonight?" Lynn shakes the collar and edibles at you invitingly.

Has it been researching your fucking kinks? How did it know to get edibles *and* a collar and leash? You didn't know how it knew, but you were definitely turned on at the idea. Oh fuck you still haven't responded...

"Uhm. I-I uh... M-maybe, w-we could try that..." You're stuttering over your words so bad. It definitely knows how bad you want it. Fuck this is so embarrassing...

"Pet, I know how long you've wanted me for. We share a bed, so I see the dirty things you look up at night. And don't think I didn't notice you researching 'how to stop being into your roommate' a couple days back. I know how bad you fucking want this, so please just..."

She taps your forehead one more time. "Give in."

"Y-yes mommy. P-please let me be your pet mommy." The words spill out of your mouth before you even knew what you were saying. It was like your deepest desires were being pulled out of you by force... Not that you really minded.

"Good pet!~" Lynn locks the collar around your neck, then puts the leash on it. Almost instinctively, you've put yourself on all fours. Lynn looks into your eyes, and holds out the edibles toward you.

"Does puppy want a treat?~"

Support me on Ko-fi?

[ladyloveandjustice]

I mean, Legend of Lattes did have a conflict, her coffee place straight up burned down? It wasn't a major focus for most of the book but it happened.

I've only read a few cozy fantasy things, and didn't find a few of them super memorable myself, but the definition of cozy fantasy is pretty broad from what I've seen. Emily Wilde is categorized as that and it is FULL of conflict and action and has some great and memorable characters.

But people have always liked stuff that's low tension/stakes/fluffy. See coffee shop aus in fanfic, or fanfic tagged fluff. See slice of life anime where characters are just hanging out. It's not a new thing. People have always wanted to watch or read things that just give cozy vibes and allow them to hang out with characters. The book industry realizing there was a market for that was inevitable. If it's not for you, it's not for you, but it's obviously for someone or it wouldn't be doing well.

I also think this is a good example of how condescending we can get when talking about a genre we don't like. Rather than say "it's not for me, I don't find the characters memorable and want better stakes, maybe there should be more variety" (which was more where OP was at) it has to be somehow bad for people to read it and write it. like...

And so sometimes it feels impossibly challenging to write any book except one where nothing bad happens and nothing is in danger and nobody is really bothered or worried about anything and everything is mostly fine and there aren't any major setbacks…..

That is a hell of a condescending assumption to make about those writers. Jesus. I'm a professional author too, but I would not want to make these assumptions about my fellow writers.You don't know if they're doing it because it's easy, or if they're doing it because they felt there was a need for it, or it was just an idea they liked writing. You don't like it, great. That doesn't mean those writers are slacking off or doing something wrong somehow. You don't know that they don't also write books with tension and conflict. I feel like most of them probably have, actually. Assuming they sat down and thought "omg this will be easy I'm so lazy" is just...do you make the same assumption about romance writers? It can get pretty formulaic, but that doesn't mean it's easy to write. Have you tried to write a cozy fantasy and sell it and make it do well? If not, I don't think you should talk about how easy it is.

But that leaves readers cold.

I mean not all readers obviously, since it wouldn't be doing well or selling well?

And frankly, I don't feel like it does much of anything to nourish either our souls or theirs.

It feels like eating a bag of potato chips for dinner instead of going to the effort of even just heating up a frozen dinner that has a vegetable in it.

Why does reading HAVE to "nourish your soul", whatever that means? What's wrong with eating a bag of potato chips? You teach college, so I wonder if you've ever run into a colleague who thinks this way about regular fantasy and sci-fi. Where they think that genre fiction is inherently more disposable and less challenging than literary fiction. I've sure as hell run into those professors, that look down on readers and writers of "commercial fiction", and I've seen the bad impact they have on their students. Do you agree with them? Because you're sounding a lot like them right now. This is the exactly the kind of argument they'd make.

You don't know whether these people don't also read books with more stakes or a variety of genres as well. Low effort reading has it's place, it just maybe shouldn't be the only thing you read if you want to actually experience the breadth of literature.

And I see this a lot in the book community, but dissing the stuff people are into and saying they need to challenge themselves more or they won't be smart like you (I see this with YA a lot too) is not going to convince them. It frames reading as a chore, and people often don't like doing chores in a life full of them, and reading is a hobby for a lot of people. Rather that say "you need to read this to better your mind" say what can be interesting or intriguing about these books that are more challenging, what kind of cool things you can get from them. Sometimes it seems to me like the point of these arguments is to feel superior, rather than actually convince people.

Nothing's wrong with reading low effort books or watch low effort shows--it's when say, a YA reader says books are inherently flawed if they don't spell things out like YA sometimes does or has more challenging themes. Or a cozy fantasy reader acting like all books should be cozy fantasy and books with tension are bad. Those are the people that ruin the discourse. But, doing the inverse isn't any better.

idk, man. I've taught university classes about this shit, but what do I know.

I teach grad school classes on writing, (I don't like to pull that card, since it's not like teachers can't have flawed ideas about their subject but since we're here) and have taught similar lessons. Yet, here's what I think I do know: telling students the genre they write is wrong is not something a teacher should do. Those literary fiction professors love doing that, and I'm not them.

As a teacher with a variety of students in a variety of genres, I have to read genres I don't like all the time--god I hate most 'dark romance' and man do I not get or like omegaverse, but I sure as hell had to read both. But just because I don't like them doesn't mean they're worthless, or there isn't a market for them, or it's wrong to write them. So I put those feelings aside, think about what kind of help the student needs to be successful in their chosen genre, and what the audience would want, because that will help them improve. (though I do try to hint if something seems like, incredibly sexist, that maybe we should reconsider that, or look at it from all angles and decide if it's something the story needs). And at the same time, I do teach them basic lessons on how to structure a story, and what's good about conflict, stakes, etc.

But I wouldn't tell any of them they're wrong for writing cozy fantasy even if it's not always my cup of tea, because there is a market for it, and I want them to do well at it and do what they love. What pays the bills pays them, and if you actually like what you do, that's also important. Writers do need to challenge themselves, which is why I encourage students to be open minded about all genres, try out writing them, try writing different POVs, different stuff even if they don't publish it, because that can only help them get better at what they do. But if what they publish is cozy fantasy, hey, it gets them good money and they like doing it, that's more than I can say for most jobs.

Cozy Fantasy and Why It Doesn't Work

I think I am among many who feel like they should love cozy fantasy and have found it an incredibly lacking genre.

This newly branded "cozy fantasy" genre that has taken readers by storm since 2020 and while it is new that books are now marketed as cozy, the genre itself isn't new. Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones is a great example of the genre before it was labeled and also how to make it work.

Cozy fantasy is defined by many as fantasy with low stakes. Fantasy aesthetic but less sword fights. On paper, it sounds great. But the execution has been less than stellar for readers like me. The lack of physical stakes has also impacted the emotional stakes of these books, creating forgettable characters with boring problems. As a romance reader, I find this frustrating. Romance is known for being a predictable and formulaic genre, the now defunct Romance Writers of America defined romances as needing happy endings, a term romances have continued to follow. Yet these romance texts manage to have low physical stakes (how to date your neighbor, how to confront your toxic friends, etc) while still maintaining high personal stakes that keep readers invested and begging for more. So I was initially confused why cozy fantasy authors struggle to write texts that connect to readers like me.

I think I have found the answer which is the genre is just here for vibes. It is all about aesthetic, not even worldbuilding that fantasy is known for as most cozy fantasy I read have so many problems as soon as you ask one question. It is hard to acknowledge that a genre that is pitched to work for readers like me doesn't work for many of us. Especially because occasionally there is one that works beautifully to my taste.

I often say my favorite cozy fantasies that are more contemporary are short and visual, which I plays into the idea of the genre being an aesthetic. The Bakery Dragon by Devin Elle Kurtz is a good example because it is a simple story that is given the perfect amount of pages and gorgeous visuals without dragging on when the message is very clear and easy to understand. Books like The Phoenix Keeper and Legends and Lattes have absolutely nothing for me, their very clear message hitting the reader over and over so the readers don't miss it and focusing on the aesthetic of worldbuilding rather than the reality of the fantastic elements within the world.

I guess my point is. . . I realize this genre isn't for me since I have realized it is more of an aesthetic than anything. .. .but I want it to be. Should I let it go and put my efforts elsewhere? Or should I keep exploring this new trend and find the hidden gems?

[sunflower1experiment]

The Doctor, will See You

Risk

It was quiet, you were quiet, it made him uncomfortable when you would acknowledge him with a nod and then walk past. Tending to the children, was it the fact that you lost this child or maybe you had finally accepted your fate. Whatever the plan was it was also affecting the toys too, Leith was less strict and more patient but the knowledge that you weren't actively seeking any forms of social bond made him worry. "Can you talk to me?"

Stella begs while holding your hand, you chuckle sadly. "No, stop trying and just work. Please."

Work, silence, feed, care, work, silence.....feed...?

Doey's neck stretches across his cell and ate some of the fruit you placed down, "You're feeding us? Why?" This was Kevin talking, the children were weary. You simply shake your head, "I'm doing this to tell you to live, keep rebelling, you're all smart and I...I'm doing what I can before I accept everything."

The boys stare at you through Doey, "What do you mean? Your voice isn't gentle, so why?"

"Kevin, Matthew, Jack...Doey. I don't think Harley or Prototype are good. So, I want you to take care of the children if things get...tense, you don't have to do it if you don't want to. Every choice you make. Make sure to forgive yourself, okay? You're good kids." Doey flinches when you place one more food into his hand.

It was, colorful, like him a pretty fruit with colors and a variety of different tastes. "Peach..." He ate it curiously, relishing the different essences of sweetness.

Catnap was well difficult to speak with, you knew he held high expectations for Prototype and also didn't see you as anything other than a scientist, an adult. One that betrayed him, the food placed down was smacked away, "It's okay. You have every right to be angry."

He sneers at your words, just because you were "one of the good ones"

"You are no better, you are a scientist, you still stood beside him." Nodding at his words you sigh sadly.

"Maybe that was a signal, loving him and then getting attached to you all. That no matter how hard I try, I was more loyal to playtime than I was myself. I so badly wish to take your pain away. Sadly, the only thing I can do is this."

What did you mean!? Catnap watches you leave, Dogday stares in horror, "Catnap, did Prototype...." No, what did you mean!?

Were you leaving? No, you had a plan, something they wouldn't know about. Mommy places the fruits and vegetables aside when you returned. After everything, the truth, and now you and Harley were no more. What were you planning to do exactly? "Is there a reason you're so, quiet, planning in silence?"

"The plan is to give you all strength, and then, gather evidence." Mommy's eyes widen, she slinks over with a curious grin. "Evidence?"

"You are evidence, but the files are too." So that is why you were quiet and so obediently tame, of course this is merely as scary as any job with a corrupt background but to be on top and stay while hitting rock bottom. Yet here you are, giving food while ignoring Harley's calls.

Huggy leans in when your phone rings for the third time, you hold his cheek so he could remain still. His sharp teeth chew on the pears you feed him, sometimes he'd stand guard while you worked. Listening to the apologies or gentle words he wished to hear, when the experimentations happened. Did you even know of the pain? the anguish? The suffering everyone experienced at the hands of Harley, Eddie and Leith?

He could only smile while staring at you, your apologies meant something but in terms of actioner it would fall flat.

"tHe hOur oF jOy....yOu sHoUlD join..."

"I can't...I have to give the evidence to the public, you understand...I'm not sure what this hour will be but if you all plan to escape then I'll do everything I can to help."

Prototype envies your determined futility; him and Harley were alike that way. Harley loves your bleeding heart while Prototype's plan was meant to break you, turn you to hate humanity and maybe just maybe you could collaborate with him. Not out of love, or concern to commemorate you and him becoming allies, but because he needed eyes, ears, hands, and the ability to touch.

He then notes the ringing phone, that was once again in voicemail. Harley was growing more desperate.

Each one went straight to voicemail, or he'd find you in your office. Expecting coffee from you or a small smile of assurance, where did he go wrong? The day he truly went wrong was probably the last time you and him would share such warm embrace.

What happened? The files were placed down, evidence upon evidence and a video file to upload the truth to the world. Now all there is the door, but it was locked. Your body tenses, and in the back of your mind you prayed it wasn't what you thought it'd be. Whether you loved him or not, it was still...

It starts with a crash, a gunshot, yelling, what did Prototype do, words of who will cover this up fill your ears. How will he cover it up, then you ran in and knelt to Harley's side, holding him by the face.

Whether Harley wanted to or not, that was what made Leith, and you clash, he was usually bemused with your interaction with the toys.

Yet nothing bemused him more than seeing your teary-eyed face standing before him.

TW// Blood, gunshot, (Here we see his perspective of what happened. Meanwhile Leith gets his perception while the hour of joy is its own chapter), cursing, gore minors do not interact if you get weary at the mention of blood

Harley, Harley Sawyer, head scientist of the projects, facing betrayal, curiosity, discovery, love, failure, and isolation. Holding no sorts of humility and discipline as stated by Elliot, he struggles to reach the top of the ranks in playtime co. Striding to become better than those nobodies he called coworkers, the ones with bleeding hearts, soft like Elliot or not even capable to reach his intellect.

Many experiments, failure or not he knew he was the one carrying this company to success, then it was Quinn...

Quinn, he should've listened when he knew someone was opting to take this child in. Experiment 1166, aka Yarnaby. The obedience it displays....or he displays, was enough to make Sawyer "take" him in. That was his first mistake, "That boy Quinn, I really want to adopt him."

In one ear and out the other, this man was foolish. To even form a relationship with someone who held more humility, more humanity than him. How dare he ruin the concept of enamor for his partner to be or to not be.

He loved you, of course he did, that's why he kept you close. Someone needed to keep this family together, Harley, Quinn Yarnaby, you. His mind wanders to the baby, two months in...and to see your locked door the fetus, the man wanted to yell at the scientist for not saving it. It could be of potential: What a sick twisted thought to have about your own child!

Harley breaths as he scraps the paperwork on the prototype, "sOmethiNg thE mATTER? DoCtor?"

"No, you and I both know that....So anything else you wish to express?" It chuckles, then taps the metallic fingers on the table. "You both loved each other so dearly, and you simply had to turn that boy into a toy....Criminals, sick, dying...Right? Potential toys. Or better yet Some sedation."

"Don't you ever use that voice against me! Damn it!" Harley slams his hands on the table, he hated that voice, because it belonged to you. Except you were crying, hugging his frame while he couldn't bear to see you making that pathetic sound. Even when the doctor had the audacity to find some sick amusement at Yarnaby's sounds....you were different.

It absolutely annoys Harley's soul knowing Stella held some form of kinship to you, the flowers expressed so many words. So, he tried as well, first it was a Clematis Jackmanii, you were enthralled by such beauty. Next the Iris, you returned this exchange with a Rosemary, so he got bolder, and he was before your office with a Tuberose. Your wide eyes and slightly startled demeanor rub him the wrong way until you show him a beautiful pink poppy. He holds it, silent....

That flower was now wilted, he was heartbroken or maybe he needed to try again. So, he foolishly offers a poppy flower. Your demeanor is unchanging, and your silence spoke so many words to him, truly the indifference you held to the doctor hurt more than any form of hatred.

All these puzzles and shifts to try and win you over again he simply moves onto work like you but not the way he'd expect. The incident, he simply had Boxy Boo cover his tracks, and he'd leave while everyone else was already home. Until he saw you, your eyes were wide the crashing, gunshots, what happened!?

But he could only focus on you, he tries to speak, then stops when you walk forward. Harley practically drops everything to hold you but then his eyes widen. There was blood on the floor, sounds of shouting and Leith's angry yelling while guards start to seize you.

"Harley! What did you bastards do!? What was that!?" Your voice fades as the guards move you towards the hallways, "Harley!!!"

Harley's breathing shortens, too much blood loss...he felt it track over his lab coat. It reminded him of your warmth, your lips and tender touch.

"Start the procedure."

Then the doctor awoke, calling for you, it made Leith tense with anger, Dr. Bruno White clears his throat. "Procedure complete....how, are you feeling?"

"White!? Where, what happened...I...Something is wrong, what did you do!? Which one of you higher up backstabbing traitors..."

"I gave the order." Leith cuts Sawyer off from his angry tangent, he sighs. "After so many chances and even a failed attempt of us nearly getting exposed. You really know how to handle your screw ups."

"Enough with your idle talk, why would we even get exposed?" Sawyer snarls at him, his patience wearing thin.

"Your partner had evidence, upon evidence! Everything was recorded, everything! You simply couldn't just leave it alone..." Leith sighs, "Luckily we dealt with him as per needed.

"You have no idea what you all are doing, you all need mine and my dear's intellect!"

"That is the exact reason why you're here and not food for Boxy Boo." Leith retorts while he looks at Leith's now isolated form. "Here's how we'll do this, you will give the other scientists answers when they need them, and to perform procedures as directed."

"You'll die for this Pierre! When I get my hands on you. You're a DEAD MAN!"

Harley wouldn't accept this, not when you were trapped somewhere, being treated with the same pain. Leith Pierre maybe, a greedy bastard but...would he hurt you.

He had to know, it was as if the world was against him for the final time. How many months went by is what he'd ask but he knew time was only relative in the eyes of the beholder.

That's when he hears him again, "Open the door!" Leith's angry voice fills his ears, you take some steps back. Holding your chest, he watches through the camera tapping on the screen. Anything to get your attention, Stella's cries fill his head. Why was everyone do damn loud!?

"I failed, for the final time." Your voice begins, he assumed you were crying, and he desperately hopes it was true. Yet when no tears shed, he was angry. At himself, those fools, you!

He notices you grabbing the lever, to release everyone, everything, even him. But that meant you would die too, "No matter how much I try to look, I was no better…if they kill me, I hope I can ease their pain…I’m so sorry children."

You can't be serious!? This had to be prototype's doing! Why didn't he see the signs sooner, damn it, damn everything to hell it was his fault! He held the blame, Leith Pierre held the blame, Stella, all of these scientists. Innocent, guilty....

"I really did love him." Harley stops moping with self-loath when you say those words, "I just wanted him to see that those orphans, the children. They were smarter than people realize..."

You pull the lever; closing the gate that guards the workers in the higher grounds. "Prototype wanted us to die but, not everyone deserves it. I tried to convince him and Sawyer..."

The doctor watches your determined glare towards the others, "I'm doing this for the sake of the children and the innocent. I don't care if this seems like some moral power play, it isn't I'm no better."

Everything played out so slowly, the gates were vain as they transported Huggy to the upper floor. Killing everyone, Mommy long legs follow afterwards in the train station playground, death, blood, bodies. The sick sounds of someone's body being torn apart, it made Harley watch in awe how they practically turn this play to hell..

Because of him and those backstabbing scientists, what exactly did you do? Right, you never did them, you were the one who interrogated the children and toys.

Always being sweet, and caring for them, feeding those damned beasts. That was your downfall and biggest flaw, you had that bleeding heart...

"....Hello old friend." The prototype says in a mocking manner, "I see even after everything, your love for that scientist has not changed. So, will the doctor be seeing them?"

Harley chuckles bitterly at its words of mockery and amusement, those fools lost control god knows how much later after he was turned. Now this "Hour of Joy" happens, all of his work in shambles..

But you, his perfect experiment. You weren't in shambles, not yet that is, maybe if he made you into something like him the toys would be more accepting. Unlike that Thomas Clarke fellow, he could make you his perfect experiment, the perfect partner. Without that awful bleeding heart, he came to adore so much, you'd be safe from manipulation. From Prototype, he sighs once more as he finally clears his head, "Make sure my dear partner doesn't die.."

Your fate was sealed that day.

[utterlyazriel]

Oh, that's good to know, darling! I was just worried someone was robbin' you! On the other hand... Would you give us your Arthur Morgan fics recs? Tumblr or ao3? <3 if its not too much trouble!

[rubs my hands together like a devious lil fly] why nonnie i would be delighted to share as i've been far too slack in sharing what i've been reading!! in no particular order <3

the leather and lace series by the oh so talented @photo1030 this one is a big currently twenty five (25!) chaptered fic with that dynamic u hunger for when you play the game... like oof, it hits the spot, it scratches the itch, etc etc big ol chefs kiss from sloane <3

as far as dreams go / part two by @serawritesthings mutual pining my goddamn BELOVED this is a big long juicy fic with that sweet, sweet miscommunication! incredible prose and someone who loves arthur the same way i do i reckon <3

of horses and men by @eaaaazygurl any fic that lets the reader be there for arthur is one i'm gobbling down fr. i actually couldn't believe this beauty doesn't have more notes

the caretaker by @immajustvibehere MY BIG SOFTIEEEE like this guy gets it, the prompt was tasty but the delivery? freakin scrumptious

graphite and gratitude by @bimrsadler oughhh something about this dynamic actually tickles me pink, getting wound up but arthur being the one who easily unwind you like that's the stuff man

salt and pepper by @hihomeghere cos i also eat up any fic that lets me live out the fantasy of grabbing gorgeous arthur morgan by the face and telling him that he's HAWT

same goes for sweet dreams by @cowboydisaster like ough toothrotting fluff actually, what fanfiction was created for, amazing, showstopping, unbeatable, etc etc

give me my sin again by @messrmoonyy we love a little devoted secret relationship.... and sin, we love sin 🙂‍↕️

conflicted spaces by @not-neverland06 WHEWWW a whole ass story to devour, i love love love having a plot to sink my teeth into and the hurt/comfort aspect of the whole thing just sweetens the deal <3

one warm day is all i really need by @threadbearsweater i'll be real with u i don't remember this one off the top of my head BUT i have high standards to have things shelved away in my likes, waiting to be properly rbed, so i trust in my heart its spectacular

ok that's all for now <3 i should really make an effort to do some occasional recs because this was hella fun! thank you for asking nonnie! hopefully you find something new!

mwah x

[mashkatzi]

Slow morning with Luigi (fluff)

Something small and fluffy to keep you guys entertained until the oneshot drops. I promise smut is on the way ;) Enjoy.

Let me know if you have any requests bc I'm having a bit too much fun writing lolll.

Waking up early and spending the morning cuddling and showering with Luigi.

You're awoken from a dream. You cannot remember exactly what you were dreaming about but you were happy in your dream. You shift in bed to get more comfortable, nuzzling your head further into the pillow letting out a small groan. You were sure your alarm would go off any minute now. The light from the early morning sun leaks through your curtains, painting your bedroom in a yellow glow. Feeling the bed dip beside you, you hear a soft voice calling your name, so quite it's almost a whisper.

"You awake?" the voice calls out.

"Mm, almost" you reply. Peeling your eyes open, you crane your neck to lay your eyes on Luigi.

He's laying on his side, body turned towards yours. He meets your eyes with a small smile. "Morning, amore".

He reaches his arms out, to hug you from behind, pulling you into himself. Your body slots into the curvatures of his so perfectly. Your ass resting on his pelvis, head pressed against his hard chest. His head rests atop yours. You hold onto his arms and use your fingers to draw small circles onto the flesh of his forearm. he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"Morning, mio re" (my king) you respond with a cheeky smile. You have been taking Italian lessons from Luigi for a few weeks and this week you had been practicing pet names. "Did I get that right?" you ask cockily. You know you were right but wanted to hear him say it

"Perfetto" he responds rewarding you with another kiss, this time to the back of your neck. You feel him smiling against your skin. "ragazza perfetta" the vibrations of his voice, as well as the prickly feeling of his stubble against your skin send a shiver down your spine.

You turn your head towards Luigi, brushing your nose against his. "perfect girl?" you translate his words back to him.

"yeah, that's right" he says smiling. "My perfect girl".

He loves that you put in effort to learn his mother tongue, loves that you take the time to learn and remember small phrases. Speaking to you in Italian feels so much more intimate to him especially as he is the one teaching you.

He places a small kiss to the tip of your nose and you scrunch your nose is response. Turning your body to face him now you ask "did you sleep well, babe? Why are you up so early?". You wrap your arms around his neck now pulling him closer to you.

"I slept well baby. I feel refreshed" he responds. You know he's been having trouble sleeping the past few months but he doesn't want you to worry about him. But you notice the small changes in him and how he struggles to leave the bed in the mornings, yawning, struggling to keep his eyes open.

It's as if he notices the cogs turning in your brain, trying to figure out if you should be worried about him or not. He leans in to kiss your lips. "I promise you. I slept well" he presses another kiss to your lips as if to indicate that he is indeed, telling the truth.

You smile in response, "what time is it? We have to be up soon, no?" you reach behind to pick up your phone. The bright screen illuminating your face. the numbers "06:27" displayed on the screen.

"Thank god. We have 30 minutes", you sigh in relief. You decide to rest your eyes now, closing them and nuzzling your head into Luigi's neck. You sigh into him, breathing in his scent.

You stay this way for a while before Luigi begins to move under you. "Need to shower. You want to join me?" he looks down at you.

"I'm not really-" you begin before he cuts you off

"No baby, we don't have to do anything. Just want to have you close to me". He assured you. It's not uncommon for you and Luigi to shower together, but it usually ends with you bent over and him behind you, bullying his fat cock into you. But you must admit, you enjoy the soft intimacy of aftercare, standing under the warm water together, him caressing your face whispering praises into your ears.

"I'll wash your hair for you", Luigi attempts to convince you to join him. He slides out of bed, holding a hand out to you.

"Ok deal". you reach for his hand and he pulls you towards him and carries you bridal-style towards the bathroom. You smile into his chest, enjoying the feeling of his arms supporting you.

He places you carefully on top of the bathroom counter, and begins to undress himself. First removing his shorts and then his plain black vest. he reaches over to turn the water on before turning back to you. He helps you to remove your (well his) Stanford top and then instructs you to lift your hips to remove your panties.

Once the both of you are naked, you step into the shower. He lets you go first. You stand under the warm spray of water running your hands through your tangled locks. He steps in behind you, grabbing your shampoo bottle. He squirts a small amount of it onto his palm and begins to lather it into your hair. He instructs you to face away from him and close your eyes. The feeling of his hands running through your scalp brings you bliss and he takes a step forward so that he is now also under the water. You let out a small whine in content.

Luigi works away at your hair, once he's done he pulls you under the water to rinse out the shampoo. "Which one is conditioner" he asks looking over the countless hair products you have gathered on the shelf in the shower. "How could someone need this many shower products, man?" he says teasingly.

You playfully roll your eyes and pick out the matching green bottle to the shampoo. The words 'conditioner' are plastered across the bottle. You point out the printing and laugh at Luigi and he laughs back, rolling his eyes.

"ok furbo" (slang for 'smart/quick witted') he playfully hits back. "tell me, baby, what does that mean?"

You turn to face him, a cocky grin tugging on his lips. He manoeuvres your shoulders to face away from him again as he begins to apply the conditioner to the ends of your hair, just as you had taught him.

"Well, maybe if my teacher actually knew what he was talking about I could tell you", You respond, attempting not to laugh, as you spin to face him once more

He winces and playfully grabs at his chest as if he's truly offended at what you have just said. You laugh at his display of fake offense.

"Ok my turn, we have to let the conditioner sit for a minute" You tug Luigi closer to you and push down on his shoulders. He sinks down to his knees under the water and you run your fingers through his curls, making sure they're properly drenched. He reaches up, gripping onto your waist to steady himself. He places a small kiss to your hip bone and looks up at you.

"Use my shampoo. I don't really want my hair smelling like apples", He instructs you.

"aye aye, captain" You playfully mock his bossy tone. You look over at the shelf and buried behind your countless body washes, scrubs and hair products sits a chunky blue bottle. An image of a man holding a huge dumbbell is printed onto the bottle. The words "3-in-1" printed in bold white lettering. You scoff, contemplating burning the bottle, before listening to your better judgement and reaching for it.

"Surely this doesn't actually work. Look use some of this" you say, reaching for a grey bottle with a palm tree printed on it. "It's meant to help with curl definition."

Luigi stares up at you, then the bottle. "Ok, fine". He can't say no to you, no matter how hard he tries. You toss the blue bottle, making a mental note to burn it at the next possible opportunity. You turn the water off before squeezing out some of the new shampoo and begin lathering it into his hair. He tilts his head down to allow you to reach the back of his head too.

"All done, Lu. Let's rinse off" You turn the water back on and Luigi stands up, the two of you begin to rinse your hair under the warm water. Foamy bubbles run down your bodies, onto the floor of the shower and down the drain. You run your hands through you hair, squeezing out all the conditioner, meanwhile Luigi stands behind you, body pressed to yours, rinsing his hair.

You enjoy the quiet intimacy of your naked bodies being so close, touching but not in a sexual way. Luigi enjoys it just as much. Knowing that you will always be there for him to seek comfort from makes him feel so lucky.

You both finish rinsing your hair and then clean your own bodies. Once clean, you stand under the water, facing each other, eyes locked, big cheesy grins spread across both your faces. You step even closer, bodies pressed up against each other.

"I love you" you whisper into his ear. "Ti amo, amore" you whisper again, this time in Italian. Luigi pulls you into him, lifting you off the floor. You wrap your arms and legs around his body and he switches the water off, stepping out of the shower, carrying you with him.

"Ti amo di più". (I love you more) Luigi responds placing you back onto the counter. He reaches for a fluffy towel wrapping your body and rubbing up and down your arms, attempting to keep you warm.

He reaches for another towel, wrapping it around his hips. You stare at him as he does so. Smiling. thinking to yourself how lucky you truly are. Luigi tilts his head down stealing a kiss before carrying you back into the bedroom to continue getting ready for the day ahead.

[sevenmerrymagpies]

Potato Chip

Happy Valentine's Day to the couple walking back to their place tonight carrying bags of potato chips. You inspired me.

Steve gets Eddie the wrong Valentine's Day gift.

Smoking weed and blow jobs under the cut.

Potato Chip

It probably wasn't the best time to ask, but Steve was baked, and no one here would care. It wasn't like they all didn't know already, anyway. Steve was already pressed against Eddie, from his little toe all the way up his leg and hip, tangling their arms together and bumping shoulders as they wrestled for space on the couch together. 

Eddie toked and held the blunt for Steve, who obliged by taking his own toke, before he leaned over Steve - grabbing a grope with his hidden hand - as he passed the blunt to Argyle. As Eddie withdrew, Steve whispered, "What do you wanna do for Valentine's Day."

It was a bad time to ask, and like a month out, but Steve hadn't celebrated a Valentine's Day with a dude before, and he was kind of excited about it. Plus, this was his first Valentine's Day since 1984, which didn't make him feel kind of pathetic. He always had a date, but fuck if a second date with a girl who could barely stand him but wanted to see if the rumors about his big dick were true was only one step up from being single. And only because he got laid.

So, it didn't matter if it was a bad time to ask. What mattered was that it was on his mind, and he was too stoned to think it through. 

Eddie, though, Eddie was maybe just too stoned. "Potato chip."

"What?" Steve asked. If Eddie wanted potato chips, he could do that, but he wasn't sure exactly what that meant? 

"What?" Eddie asked as if he finally realized Steve was talking to him.

"What?" Jon asked from where he was lying on the floor. 

"Who?" Argyle laughed. "I've heard this sketch before."

Nancy giggled from where she was lying down between Argyle, who was half-draped on the couch, and Jon on the floor. "Who."

"Like an owl," Argyle agreed before he started hooting like an owl. 

"Doctor?" Robin asked at the same time.

"Oh, Will watches that on PBS," Jon said. 

Argyle continued to hoot.

"I think this conversation is going over my head," Steve admitted.

"I'm hungry," Eddie said. "I'm raiding the kitchen."

"Bring back chips," Robin called out over Argyle, Jon, and Nancy, hooting at each other.

"Yeah, duh." 

+++

Steve only realized as he was walking with Eddie into his house that perhaps, just maybe, he should have asked again. Or thought about it more? 

"I brought the good stuff," Eddie said as he kicked off his shoes before he wandered into the house towards the den. 

"The good stuff?" Steve asked, not really paying attention because he was suddenly very unsure about his plans for their evening.

"California weed from Argyle?" Eddie asked, turning around.

"Is that a question?"

"It is now, I thought the plan was to get high, make out, and crash here? I already let Wayne know I'm staying the night? I thought the plan was I'm bringing the weed, and you were supplying the lube?"

"Did we talk about this?" Steve asked worried that he was starting to forget whole conversations. Maybe Robin was right, and those concussions really were going to have a lasting impact on his brain.

"Uh, of course-"Eddie trailed off as his eyes widened. "Uh, I thought that- But now I'm thinking about it, I'm pretty sure my thoughts stayed thoughts, and I never answered your question?"

"My question?"

"What I wanted to do for Valentine's Day. You asked, like, last month."

"You told me this?"

"I'm not so sure that I did."

"Because you told me something, but-"

"I told you something?"

"Uh, why don't you come into the kitchen and see for yourself?"

Eddie blinked a few times before he dashed off to the kitchen, Steve scrambling to keep up behind him. 

"What the?" Eddie shouted as Steve rounded the corner to the kitchen.

"Surprise!" Steve tried to bring enthusiasm to his voice, but he was seriously doubting himself right now.

"What is all this?" Eddie asked, gesturing to the kitchen island. 

Steve had decked out the island with three large bowls of chips. One plain, one sour cream and chive (Eddie's favorite), and the final was a crinkle cut. Steve had prevaricated on that choice a lot. Should he get a third flavor like BBQ? Or should it all be plain chips to compliment the dips? But not getting Eddie his favorite wasn't a good idea. So he compromised and got Eddie's favorite and two plain ones in different textures. 

God, he probably overthought something so stupid. 

He'd also made a handful of dips. Onion dip, of course. Then there was a homemade ranch he made with buttermilk - he now had so much buttermilk in his fridge that he had to figure out how to finish. There was a veggie dip that Robin really liked. It was green and almost like having a vegetable. Healthyish. Then, finally, there was millionaire dip - an old family favorite with bacon, cheddar, and chive. 

"Uh. Ta-da!" Steve said, his voice fading. "Potato chip feast!"

"Is this for us?"

"Technically, it's for you because you asked for potato chips?"

"Potato chips?" Eddie said, finally turning to Steve and stalking towards him. 

"You said, and I quote, 'potato chip'."

"Nothing about lube?" Eddie asked, getting up in Steve's space and pushing him back into the hallway wall. 

"Uh, nope. I mean, I have some upstairs, but I didn't get anything special."

"You just got me-"

"Potato chip. Yup."

Eddie's confused expression broke like dawn as he loomed over Steve, slumped against the wall, looking up at his boyfriend. "You made me a potato chip feast because I was so high that I told you 'potato chip' and didn't tell you what I actually wanted?"

Steve sighed. "I know I should have-"

"Shhh, shhh, shhh," Eddie said as he held up his finger against Steve's lips. "This is amazing, and I'm getting the feeling that you don't realize how amazing it is."

"But this isn't even-"

"No, this is better. We can get shit-faced and feast. No, wait. We can fuck and then get shit-faced and feast." Eddie said as he lowered himself to his knees.

"Uh," Steve said, still not having caught up with Eddie.  It didn't matter, though, because Eddie pulled out Steve's half-hard dick and swallowed it down. "Oh, shit."

Eddie hummed as he worked his mouth up and down Steve's rapidly hardening shaft. 

"I guess," Steve breathed out and worked to keep his hips still. "You like your gift."

Eddie's response was to pull Steve's balls out and fondle them, which always made Steve's knees melt. 

"Fuck, Eddie."

Eddie didn't respond; he just kept sucking Steve's brain out of his dick until he couldn't think straight. He didn't last long, couldn't like this. Steve came with a grunt, and Eddie swallowed every last drop.

Steve was still stupid from how quickly Eddie had worked him over. Eddie tucked Steve back in his pants before he stood up and kissed Steve. A hint of the bleachy taste of his spunk was on Eddie's lips. Shit, did that get him going. 

"Let's take this upstairs, huh?" Eddie said. "You got that lube, right?"

"Yeah," Steve breathed out, letting Eddie drag him upstairs. "Yeah, I have lube."

"And the dips will keep?"

Steve blinked. "Uh, for a bit. Sure."

"Cool. I don't think I'm gonna last long tonight, anyway. We can do something more elaborate tomorrow. Now let's go celebrate Valentine's Day."

[mcflymemes]

AS SAID BY GALE DEKARIOS *  assorted dialogue from baldur's gate 3

is that... is that truly you? i thought i might never see you again.

i love you, more than i've ever loved anyone. and you've proven your love for me in more ways than even the greatest mathematicians would dare to count.

you licked a dead spider. dead spider. you licked it. that is something that happened.

i think we need to get you some air and perhaps have a long talk about unresolved childhood issues.

stop licking the damn thing!

i see the art of eloquence is alive and well.

i'm awed, impressed, and a little bit scared of you right now.

nothing like a brisk stroll through the forest to invigorate the spirit.

i've never wanted to kiss you more than i do now.

right now, i need nothing more than a kiss.

tell me you feel the same way. tell me you want what i want. please.

i'll always have you.

you really would prefer me as i am?

do you doubt me?

you put the stars to shame.

let's sit here another while - i want to drink you in.

there you are.

you led me down this path.

i don't know myself anymore.

all this... it's not who i am. around you, i'm not who i want to be.

you really are absolutely heartless, aren't you?

i was hoping you'd spare me a moment.

this seems as good a time as any for me to stop babbling on.

i think you're rather wonderful. and that's not a word i waste on anyone unworthy of it.

go. enjoy your evening.

i like that about you. it's one of your rarer qualities.

i promise we'll make it work, if you'll have me.

what are you doing? stand back! now!

i thought i meant more to you than a sacrificial lamb. clearly i was mistaken.

you've brought me right where i need to be. i have no right to ask more of you.

you're plotting something, aren't you?

i go where you go.

i'm telling you, this is a mistake.

don't worry too much. a handful of powerful spells go a long way.

hold on! it's not too late to settle this without bloodshed.

mercy is not your strong suit, is it?

well... so much for my previous sentiment.

the choice is yours. there's really no good decision to be made here.

i'll be delighted to see you try... from a safe distance.

how generous of you.

there has to be a way to stop this thing!

i have no desire to end your life. you know that.

i see the glint in your eyes. you've a strategy in mind. the same one as me, i'd wager.

well, now that we know what it is, i suggest we leave it well alone.

better be careful around here.

i'll miss you, friend. your companionship has been quite the education.

i won't lie. i miss our group.

don't worry, i'll handle matters from here.

i'm ready. are you?

we must discuss it privately.

have you lost your wits? you must not do this!

we can't afford to let that happen.

they say madness and genius are separated by but a hair's breadth. perhaps the same is true of madness and stupidity.

you make me sound like some preening peacock.

i'm taking notes. making observations.

you're adorable even when you're teasing me.

you know what, i think i've clearly had far too much wine. and you've had nowhere near enough.

don't worry about me. i'm quite content to enjoy the party from here.

don't let me drag you away.

that, my friend, must remain a secret.

i do hope you know what you're doing.

might be the wine talking.

why am i doing this?

i'm sorry it had to come to this.

i'm going to bed. perhaps this was all a mistake.

careful. you don't know what i'm about to ask.

kill me, and i'll destroy the city anyway.

i want it to be perfect.

stay with me a while, will you?

i'm in love with you.

i'm many things, but coy's not one of them.

listen, i need to speak to you.

i might need you to be more specific.

i regret many things in life.

we all have our burdens, one way or the other.

i am as honored as i am enamored.

i am not the only one who longs for you... yet you chose me.

my time is yours. what do you need?

tell me, what can i do for you?

you need me?

you look... comfortable.

[curiousorigins]

This is the "Freedom Fries" all over again only more racist.

I heard maybe 3 people actually use it in real life. (and only 1 time a piece.) Yet for a minute there that would be all that the news would talk about. I can't speak as to what/when/who prompted that thing. I do know it was in a Post 9-11 United States. They were also trying to hype the citizens about the War in Iraq/Afghanistan as if we were actually fighting for 'freedom' instead of oil and other stuff.

(And yeah, the U.S. caused literally all of those conditions that we had to 'save' people from. From the first time we played favorites and funded terrorism there and destabilized people. Funny how often we create the terrible conditions and then step in as the 'hero'. Of course it's only a hero on our airways because everyone else in the world aren't delusional.)

I know that people were pushing the 'Freedom Fries" as a weird support the military and all that. We were aggressively nationalist for a minute there. We started pledging the 'pledge of allegiance' in schools at least 1x/week (if not a day) and that was probably something legislated. And suddenly people were freaking out about flag burning and critiquing the U.S. when they were previously people who literally helped burn it last independence day. It was a weird uncomfortable climate for sure. For just a touch of the insanity that was going around, please watch any show from like 2003-2007. There will be a plot line that deals with terrorists or the war in Iraq or injured soldiers or PTSD related to soldiers, or unfortunately refugees from war-torn countries facing racism. It literally doesn't matter the genre, the network or anything other than U.S. made. You will be able to find it, easily. Most U.S. Citizens daily life wasn't about those wars, those conflicts we supported. But our TV sure as hell was. I do think that there was some major funding happening there.

But this was also a time where people were not getting the news from everywhere and we had journalists, if not outright suppressing school shootings (because it was believed that airing them... led to more shootings and it's kind of hard not to agree in the modern era.) then minimizing air time.

And just like the Vietnam War was a huge polarizing cultural change, because citizens were witnessing it semi-regularly, for the first time without having gone to war. (It was aired nightly on the news in those days.). We watched 2 buildings go, kind of in slow motion, as well as another plane hijacking... and no answers for why, for months.

Then of course, we had politicians voting to go to war. And watching people die and get tortured live... just kind of became background noise. As messed up as that is.

It wasn't until that brave soldier, self-immolated to protest the U.S. actions or lack thereof in Gaza, that I realized how many times I saw that same thing during the War in Iraq.

I was young enough... that it was just something that was happening. I remember some things from before... but not enough. And so watching these creepy American Soldiers do horribly dehumanizing things to people. (That was leaked again by a brave veteran who was disgusted by it. And he ended up dead very shortly after.)

They also didn't go into the self-immolation except to say that it was a protest about the war in Iraq. Just thinking back it disturbs me how much people have to do to get the message out about anything that may effect rich people's bottom lines.

Don't worry though, that's how they justified the Patriot Act which has been hardly revised since it passed and allows them to hold ANYONE for an extended amount of time, without trial, for incredibly poorly described.

So yeah, shut down this 'Gulf of America' nonsense. But know to keep an ear out for what this talk is distracting you from. It's a joke. Until it isn't.

if someone tries to correct you by saying its "the Gulf of America" now, tell them you don't let the government control your language

[paulyenvol6]

Love You From Afar

Based on this lovely request (Thank you so much for sending me your requests, keep them coming!). Hope you enjoy it :)

Contains: angst, crying, fighting, swear words

Wordcount: ~5.30k

Masterlist

You inhaled a couple of times feeling the blood rush in your ears.

"Y/n. Love, please talk to me, it's not that big of a deal."

Your back was facing Daemon and you closed your eyes because otherwise you were certain your head would explode.

"Quiet," you said your voice definitely not fitting your mood and concentrated on your breathing.

"Y/n. I know that you're angry, just let it out so we can move on."

Yes, you had tried to stay calm but now it suddenly broke out of you just like a river destroying a dam. You bumped your clenched fist on the table and turned around to your husband at once narrowing your eyes at him.

"You want me to let it out? Fine, I will. Daemon, you're not even aware of what you have done to me! You left without telling me anything and I spent the last two days worrying so much that something happened to you that I couldn't even speak or sleep or do anything. How could you do that?"

He looked almost remorseful as he crinkled his nose his gaze lowered to the ground.

"I know it wasn't ideal. Perhaps I should've handled it differently. But I know you and I know that you wouldn't have stopped complaining until I promised you I wouldn't go."

"Yes," you gasped standing up so abruptly that you almost lost your balance.

"Of course I would've complained. I don't wanna wake up to a letter telling me that you died on the battlefield."

Daemon nodded, approached you slowly and put a hand on your folded ones.

"I know. But it was necessary. And we won."

"Because you were fortunate. And this isn't even the fucking point, Daemon. You just LEFT. Without telling me where you were going. How could you do something like that?"

His face suddenly hardened and he raised his chin observing you for a moment before he dropped your hand.

"You're doing it again."

You drew your eyebrows together and open-mouthedly stared at him. "Doing what again?"

"Telling me what to do, for fuck's sake and y/n, I swear to the gods I'm so tired of listening to you acting like you get to tell me what to do just because we're married."

You scoffed raising your finger at him. "Daemon-"

"NO. You've been manipulating me for the past months and now every time I do something that I know you're not gonna approve of I'm feeling all guilty and like I'm gonna hurt you and I'm not playing this fucking game anymore. I'm still my own person and I get to decide if I wanna support my men at the Stepstones or not."

To say you were surprised was an understatement. The blood was boiling in your veins because how could he be the angry one now? You were supposed to scream at him and he was supposed to be on his knees begging for your forgiveness. Too stunned to speak you just stared at him for a moment which he used to continue his rant.

"You're my wife. And that means I look out for you. But I will not wait for your approval whenever I do something and you're gonna stop making me feel guilty for doing things you're not thrilled about. You're wondering why I didn't fucking tell you? Because I knew I wouldn't be able to go if I did. 'Cause I knew you'd make me feel bad for leaving."

His voice made your head hurt and you sank down on the chair again.

"You're kidding me Daemon," you hissed through clenched teeth threateningly forming your hands into fists.

"Are you fucking kidding me? TELL ME! Tell me you're not seriously saying that it's my fault you left without saying goodbye because you thought evil vicious y/n would forbid you to get killed off in a war you're not supposed to fight."

"I'm not supposed to fight?" Daemon shouted tapping with his hand against his chest. "Who is supposed fight it if not me?"

"Soldiers. Warriors. Young men. Not the brother and heir of the king!"

He threw his head back sighing loudly and it made you so furious that he was treating you like a little child.

"I'm the commander of the fucking city watch. I could kill all these fuckers in battle because I trained my whole life for this. And now you're not gonna stop me because you want to control everything around you like a – like a…"

"Like a what," you whispered slowly raising from the chair.

"I don't fucking know. But I can't bear this any longer. I can't bear you commenting and judging everything and everyone around you, acting like your opinions are what the world needs."

"Fuck you, Daemon! I mean it, this is so typical of you."

You rushed towards him pushing against his shoulders blinded with fury but he held you away from him by wrapping his hands around your upper arms.

"Typical of me? You don't wanna get it. You're always saying we have to communicate more but you don't ever question your own behaviour. How am I supposed to talk to you when you're never, just for a second, open to what I have to say? Or what I criticise about you?"

You writhed under his grip pulling away from him and flashed your eyes at him.

"Criticise? You're not criticising me, you're simply raging because you can't handle not getting everything you want. You can't fucking accept that now that we're married life is not the way it was 5 years ago. You can't fuck around any longer or spend the night on the floor of an inn after beating up a couple of guys."

He rolled his eyes panting heavily while burying his nails into the palms of his hands.

"I don't want to do these things, seven hells. But I wanna have some freedom to defend my kingdom. Can't you understand that?"

"No I can't," you spoke coldly turning your head away from him and walked to the drawer opening it and tidying up the insides as if there wasn't a storm roaring in you.

"Y/n," he said his voice sounding so condescending that you decided not to answer him and instead kept your attention on the drawer.

"Alright then," Daemon growled after a while, seemingly having waited for a reaction and walked towards the door quickly.

Once you heard the door closing your facade crumbled and you closed your eyes panting heavily. You immediately stopped what you had been doing and stood up to lean against a pillar in your room as if it was able to give you emotional support in any way.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Daemon and you still hadn't reconciled and you couldn't have been more reluctant to seek the conversation with him.

He was just as pissed as you were and so the two of you didn't exchange a look let alone a word.

But unfortunately you were forced to spend some time together as Rhaenyra's wedding took place in the evening and of course Daemon and you were expected to attend as guests. You would've prefered to stay in your chambers of course but you knew that people would ask questions if you didn't appear and so you found yourself unwillingly holding on to Daemon's arm while he led you down to the throne room where the celebrations would take place.

The ceremony already happened in the afternoon and now Rhaenyra radiated in the middle of the table next to her husband Laenor smiling down at her guests. When it was Daemon and your turn you bowed your head and then proceeded to congratulate the newly wed couple.

"Congratulations, my princess. And my lord."

The two of them returned the smile, nodded graciously and then faster than you could blink with an eye Daemon and you were dismissed and you took your seats next to Rhaenyra.

You fully ignored Daemon or any glance he gave you solely focused on appearing distanced and indifferent. You just couldn't stand seeing his face right now after your fight and you had sworn to yourself that you wouldn't be the first one to give in.

If he wanted to reconcile he would be the one taking the first step. How many times had you approached him in the past after a fight because you felt like being the bigger person and he had been pouting like a little boy. Not today, you thought and sipped on your cup of wine.

The time passed slowly because usually you would chat with Daemon and laugh with him about the people at the feast but since the two of you didn't talk you were bored and counted the seconds. The first time that you really looked at Daemon was when he suddenly stood up.

You frowned asking yourself what he was going to do but were still too proud to address him. You almost felt pathetic as your eyes followed him around the room and when you saw him stopping in front of a young noblewoman your heart skipped a beat.

He wouldn't dare. He wouldn't dare ask another woman to dance with him just because the two of you weren't on speaking terms at the moment.

At this point you didn't care if it was obvious to everyone that you were watching your husband because you didn't take your eyes off him for a second while Daemon offered the woman his hand which she took with a wide smile.

You shifted in your chair your nails painfully digging in the palms of your hands. Your veins throbbed and you felt like jumping to your feet to rush to him and sinking into the ground at the same time. He had to be kidding you! Never had you done something similar to him just because you were angry with him. And what was even the point of this? Did he try to make you jealous? Or did he want to show you that you were supposed to be grateful that you had him and that he could have any lady in the seven kingdoms?

Unconsciously you had started to nibble at your thumb while still watching the two of them precisely. When the dance was finally over you exhaled loudly because Daemon seemed to make his way back to your table. Perhaps he had just wanted to mess around a little but had calmed himself now.

You leaned back in your chair avoiding his approaching figure but when he stopped, and he definitely wasn't by his chair yet you slightly opened your left eye to see what was going on.

"Niece. May I have this next dance?"

Although you weren't a real Targaryen you felt like spitting fire because you simply couldn't believe him. You had to put up a fight not to show your true emotions and quickly turned away from Daemon as though you hadn't just witnessed their encounter.

You couldn't hear Rhaenyra's answer but when she rose from her chair you didn't have to be a genuis to figure out what she had said.

You didn't want to feel broken. And you most definitely didn't want to be jealous. But since nobody could smell your feelings off you you allowed yourself to sink into self-pity for a few minutes. The most important thing was just to hide how sad you were because you really didn't want to draw any attention to this mess between Daemon and you.

You focused on the food in front of you and acted like you didn't even see your husband and Rhaenyra dancing right in front of your eyes but of course you couldn't help it and your eyes instinctively traveled to them every few seconds.

They were so close to each other, way too close for your taste and you cursed Daemon in your thoughts. His hand was on her cheek which obviously wouldn't have been necessary and now a new feeling creeped up on you.

Embarrassement. He really had found that it would be appropriate to dance with the bride who additionally was his niece in front of the whole court while he had treated his wife, you, like venom. He was humiliating you to an extent where you couldn't sit still anymore. But at the same time, what were you to do?

You certainly couldn't make a scene as this was still Rhaenyra's feast and it would only be even more humiliating to call Daemon out for his behaviour. But you couldn't watch this any longer as well. You could almost feel the tension between the two of them from afar and as much as it hurt you, you felt an invisible force making you watch every single move.

The way she blinked with her eyes, Daemon tilting his head slightly and how close their faces were. You gulped and felt tears burning in the corner of your eyes. This had to stop, you either had to leave right now or somehow make them stop this torture.

In the end nothing happened. You sat and watched them for minutes like you were frozen until the song was over and Daemon bowed in front of his niece. You couldn't even feel relieved because your heart had already been torn out of your chest and you felt so overwhelmed with anger and devastation that just seeing your husband walk back to your table almost made you throw up.

And then he even ignored you. He sat down on his chair not paying any attention to you and grabbed his cup as if he hadn't just flirted with Rhaenyra in front of the whole court, including his wife. You were shivering and tried to hold back your tears which you mananged to do for a couple of minutes but feeling Daemon's presence eventually gave you the rest and you knew you had to flee the scene.

Without caring about being rude or ungrateful you abruptly stood up, ignored Rhaenyra's questioning look and rushed towards the door. A part of you wished Daemon would stop you, apologize and ask you for a dance but of course he didn't. Of course this wasn't the kind of story people sang about in their songs.

This was still Daemon who never failed to cut your heart out of your chest and unfortunately you allowed him to every time.

~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later you were laying in your bed with your eyes closed.

Tears rolled down your cheeks but you were too tired and unbothered to remove them and just hoped that at some point it would stop so you could finally fall asleep.

You couldn't remember ever feeling so down and frustrated because not only had Daemon humiliated you but he probably was celebrating now as if he hadn't even noticed your absence. Did he not care about you at all? Did he even think about you and how you might feel right now?

He knew that you had left the feast after you had been forced to watch him dance with Rhaenyra and he really didn't have to be smart to have an idea of how sad you were because of his actions. And yet he hadn't shown up yet.

Did you even want him to show up? Perhaps not. The thought of looking at him now was far from pleasing because right now you just wished to get approximately 12 hours of sleep and then wake up finding everything the way it was before. Him showing up now would only force you to face the humiliation once more and you also feared that the two of you would get into another fight.

You closed your eyes and cursed yourself because this definitely wasn't helping. You were supposed to fall asleep now instead of reliving this whole wicked evening.

You didn't know how and when but eventually you were actually able to do so and your mind drifted away. So when Daemon returned another 30 minutes later he found you fast asleep rolled on your side of the bed.

He removed his clothes to change into his night gown and when he climbed onto the bed his eyes fell on your tears stained cheeks which made him frown.

Yes, he had tried to make you jealous by spending a suspicious amount of time with Rhaenyra but he hadn't intended to hurt you that much. All he had wanted was to remind you of how much this relationship actually means to you and truthfully, he had also wanted to punish you a little for your stupid fight.

But seeing you lay like this now, rolled into a ball, your cheeks flushed from all your crying Daemon felt a lump in his throat. You had been sobbing in your room while he had been at the feast? Carefully and without really giving it a thought he moved his hand to your cheek to remove the traces of tears but as soon as his finger touched your skin you jolted away from him.

Daemon almost twitched and widened his eyes as you turned on your other side and crawled away from him. He didn't even know whether you were awake or not but you seemingly tried to get as much distance between him and you as you could and it broke Daemon's heart.

And yet he was smart enough not to approach you further and laid on his back. He sighed with a dangerous feeling inside and watched the back of your head. He couldn't help but feel like he had really messed up this time which wasn't at all what he had intended to do.

It was the opposite because he had thought that perhaps the two of you would be able to reconcile tonight. He had hoped that you would get jealous and remember how important he was to you and therefore would seek the conversation with him.

And this definitely was going the wrong way right now. At some point Daemon couldn't bare looking at you anymore and turned to the other side as well.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Daemon woke up the next day you were already gone and for a brief moment he panicked. You wouldn't have just left him like that, right? You were angry, sure, but he would get a chance to speak to you later and then the two of you would be able to resolve this fight.

Yet he had an ugly feeling in his stomach while he dressed himself and therefore was quick to search for you in the dining room where he found you sitting in a chair chewing on a slice of bread. Daemon felt odd standing in the door watching you who hadn't even noticed his presence yet but didn't know what else to do. His limbs felt so heavy suddenly and all he could do was mumble your name.

"Y/n."

You looked up and Daemon could instantly see your expression turning cold which worried him more than anything else.

"Sweetheart, I – "

He was interrupted as you stood up so abruptly that your chair almost fell backwards. Without so much as a glance at your husband you passed him and walked straight out of the room which shocked Daemon at first and didn't give him a lot of time to react.

"Y/n, please," he said trying to prevent you from leaving the room but you were too fast which left Daemon staring at you open-mouthed.

It was only that he realized how serious the situation was, or better, his suspicion had just gotten confirmed. You were beyond angry and Daemon felt very helpless all of the sudden. It was a feeling that scared him because he had always felt like he had utter control over everything that happened around him but right now there was you, his beloved wife that seemed to despise him and Daemon didn't know what to do about it.

You had made clear that you didn't wish to speak to him but leaving you alone seemed even worse. And Daemon didn't even know if your anger was still caused by the recent fight the two of you had had or by what had happened last night. He sighed loudly and slowly approached the table. What was he to do?

This question haunted Daemon all day. You avoided every encounter with your husband and out of helplessness Daemon had stopped chasing after you as well. He had gotten the message and wasn't eager for another rejection.

That was why he spent most of the day aimlessly walking around his chambers wondering where you were and what he was supposed to do.

It was a draining day and at some point his head hurt so badly that he thought about calling it a day and getting to bed at 5 o'clock in the evening. In the end he didn't and instead read in one of his many history books which helped him but still couldn't quite distract him from thinking about you.

Daemon was beyond worried as he hadn't seen you since breakfast. Still he must have fallen asleep before you arrived in the chambers and when he woke up the next day you were gone again. The only evidence for you having slept in the bed was the crumpled blanket and your familiar scent that made Daemon realize how much he actually missed you.

He stayed in bed longer than necessary and the only reason why he got up at all was a knock on the door around midday. He almost jumped to his feet praying to the seven gods that it was you but when Alicent Hightower appeared in the doorway after he had allowed her to come in he unconsciously sighed.

"Alicent. Good morrow."

She smiled friendly and entered the room while Daemon wrapped his morning cloak around his body. Of course it usually wouldn't have been appropriate to appear in front of a noblewoman like this but Alicent was a good friend of yours and therefore also very familiar to Daemon.

She sat down on a chair around the table and crossed her legs thoughtfully looking at him.

"Daemon," she spoke at some point and he stopped his strolling through the room.

"What?"

"Sit down," Alicent whispered and after hesitating for a brief moment he followed her demand.

"I have to talk to you."

"I see that," Daemon grunted sounding more moody that he had intended.

"It concerns y/n."

He narrowed his eyes. "What about her?"

Alicent sighed and folded her hands in front of her stomach.

"I'm worried about her. I know that she's not feeling very well lately. She's sad all the time, she cries a lot and she hasn't been eating properly. I don't know what exactly happened but I know that it has to do with you. She doesn't really talk about it but I'm not a fool."

She inhaled greedily while Daemon observed the cup he had wrapped his hand around.

"Daemon," Alicent repeated obviously not sure whether she had his attention or not. And lord, did she have it.

"I heard you."

"And would you care to tell me what happened."

He rolled his eyes but then finally looked at her. "We had a fight."

"That much I was able to figure out myself," Alicent snapped.

"It's none of your concern anyway," Daemon answered indifferent to how rude he might appear.

"Y/n is my friend. Of course it concerns me."

He was growing impatient and leaned back in his chair throwing his hands in the air.

"Then ask her. You're her friend."

"But she doesn't tell me anything. And I want you to do something. It's obvious that she's mad at you and I don't know how to help her. That's why I came here because you're the only one who can take care of it."

Daemon's head throbbed and he wished for nothing more than to finally be left alone which was why he closed his eyes while nodding slowly.

"Fine. Thank you. I'll take care of it."

"Will you?"

He tilted his head. "Yes. I will. But I need you to go now."

Alicent looked far away from being pleased but actually rose from her chair.

"Daemon Targaryen, I understand this as a promise. She really is down at the moment. I trust that you will solve this. I don't know about you but I don't like seeing my best friend like this and if you're a caring husband you shouldn't either."

"Thank you. Thank you for the advice," he snapped his voice dripping with sarcasm and then Daemon guided her out of the room or better pushed her.

Alicent was muttering something to herself which he wasn't able to understand but he couldn't care less. He shut the door behind her then leaned against it and exhaled deeply.

"Seven hells," he growled feeling his head spin but then quickly remembered Alicent's words.

She had said that you weren't eating and that was what worried him the most. Daemon knew you very well and he knew that not eating enough was one of the most obvious signs that you were feeling bad.

He really had fucked this up. Daemon rubbed with his hands over his eyes and granted himself a minute of peace before straightening up again to think of a plan. He had to do something now, that much was clear but he still didn't really know what. He wanted to do what made you happy but currently it seemed like all you wanted was to avoid any encounter with him which didn't exactly bring him any further. So was he supposed to ignore your wish and approach you nevertheless?

The more Daemon thought about it the more he realized how inexperienced he was when it came to fighting with someone. The two of you had never had a fight this ugly before so Daemon didn't know how to handle a situation similar to this one.

In the afternoon he became so frustrated with his own thoughts that he decided to just go for it and talk to you. The worst that could happen was you leaving or kicking him out and you had done that already so what was he supposed to be scared of?

Daemon searched the whole castle for you and asked countless servants and eventually found you in the gardens sitting by an oaktree and reading. You only raised your gaze from the pages when your husband was right in front of you and immediately jolted away.

"Y/n. Y/n, please listen to me. Don't leave, alright?"

You put on a pout and blinked away a few tears while rising to your feet with wobbly legs.

"Then you'll leave," you hissed your eyes practically spitting fire. "You can choose."

"Please just give me a minute. Y/n, what is going on?"

You laughed out loudly but the sound didn't calm Daemon at all.

"You really have the audacity to ask me that?"

He took a step towards you and tried to give you his best and most authentic puppy eyes while reaching for your hand.

"Alicent told me that you weren't eating properly. I'm worried, y/n," he whispered. Now was the first time since your fight that your facade seemed to crumble just a little bit. You pulled your hand away from him but the gesture wasn't very determined so Daemon tried to hold on to you.

"Y/n, please. I love you and I wanna make sure that you're fine."

Suddenly you broke out in tears and freed your hand from his grip. "No, I am not fine, Daemon. You fucking hurt me and you don't even seem to realize. You're an arsehole and I can't believe you treated me this way," you sobbed and hid your face in the sleeve of your dress.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, y/n, please just look at me."

He tried to grab your arm again but this time you were faster and turned away from him so his hand just touched the air.

"No I won't. You stupid bastard flirted with every woman at this feast while I was sitting inches away. I had to watch everything for instance how you almost made out with Rhaenyra. Do you even know how fucking humiliating that was? Do you?"

You had taken a few steps towards him and had pushed against his chest.

"I'm sorry. I really am," he declared while trying to get a grip on your wrists which you prevented by turning away from him again.

"Y/n I am sorry, I… I wanted to make you jealous. That's all. There wasn't any reason behind it or some purpose, I… it was all about you. Because I love you and after our fight I… I felt so helpless and I guess I… I wanted to make sure that… that you know how precious this is. This between us."

At first Daemon couldn't see a reaction from you as you still had your back turned to him and Daemon thought about repeating his words when a shiver ran through your body.

"Y/n," he whispered and came closer wishing for nothing more than to wrap his arms around you and pull you into a hug. When you eventually looked at him your face was wet and your eyes were swollen. His heart felt like it was hit by a million daggers but then you opened your mouth your bottom lip trembling slightly.

"You arsehole," you whispered but it was so much softer than before.

"I'm sorry," Daemon said again because these were the only words he was able to think about.

"You stupid fucking arsehole," you muttered while your hand came down to his chest again. This time he let it happen and his eyes softened when your hand eventually remained on his upper body.

"I'm sorry."

You grinded your teeth seemingly questioning if you should stay angry at him for longer or give in.

"I love you, y/n. Only you and that will never change. I swear to you, I will never ever try to make you jealous again because that was so goddamn stupid of me."

You took yet another step in his direction.

"Keep talking," you whispered your face still not showing any emotion.

"I was a fool, an idiot, an arsehole. I should've talked to you instead of playing with your feelings. There is only one person for me and that is you. I promise you, I only thought about you while dancing with these women. I saw your face before me at all times and even after you left, I could only think about you."

Your face was inches from his upper body now and when your eyes traveled up to his face Daemon unconsciously sighed out in relief.

Carefully, almost as though he feared he would scare you away if he went to fast, he took your face in his hands and gulped loudly. Before he could say anything you closed the distance between the two of you.

Daemon chuckled in your hair pressing you to his chest while repeatedly stroking your back.

"I love you so much, honey. Gods, I can't believe I was so stupid. You know that I can't lose you. You're everything to me and I don't know what I'd do without you."

You didn't care to answer. It was his turn right now to shower you with sugar and treat you like a princess.

You decided to make him work a little harder before you would fully forgive him.

For now a hug was enough to calm down your anxious heart and if he made enough of an effort you'd tell him you loved him too later.