#i hope this says all the things it needs to
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as a reminder to anyone who needs a little hope tonight:
not all votes have been counted. the red majority across the senate, house, and white house may still happen, but it might not be as bad as it looks because mail-in votes typically lean blue. we might win a few seats back.
a few seats/contentious races have already gone in favor of democrats. thats a good sign.
if god forbid everything does go red, this is not the end. many of the policies trump wants to put in place would require constitutional amendments. he doesnt have the 2/3rds support he needs for that in congress even with the current projections. its close.
we don't have to survive another four years. just two. hang on for 2 years, and 33 (out of 100) senate seats are up for grabs. all house seats are, too. we can flip it blue and stop trump. after losing this election, the democrats and the country is going to be ready for a change, just like it was in 2018.
trump is old. trump is not healthy. i wouldn't be surprised if the stress of the job will genuinely kill him or make him incapable of leading. i cant say if vance would be worse or not, but that does change the game significantly.
please don't lose hope. things look dire, but you're here now. you got through 2016, even if you didn't get through as safely or as happily as you would have liked. don't let the doomerism rhetoric of the election get to you. that's meant to make you want anything other than a trump presidency—to make you think you couldn't survive without the alternative. it looks like we'll have to.
and we can. we will.
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last thing I'll say. this is a shock to the system. maybe you cannot see beyond the brick wall right now. you should take some time to grieve and be angry. process and detangle your mind. this is gonna suck. it's gonna be hard. it's gonna be painful. it's gonna feel impossible sometimes. if this is how it is then this is how it is. you can't hate your way back in time. you cannot hindsight your way into a better outcome. there are still victories around you to preserve. there are still people who need you to pick yourself up off the floor one more time. maybe if you don't have hope rn you can still have love. I feel bleak and despairing but I love you. so I will do what I can to fight for you. you can't see the top of the staircase so don't give in to whatever may or may not be waiting up there. All that you can really see is the next step in front of you. one step at a time. one step at a time. don't take yourself off that staircase. I love you guys.
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hii!! i saw that ur requests were open and i was like omgomgomg. i was wondering if you could do poly!jegulus x reader (in ravenclaw/hufflepuff) and its like the cliche tie switch type of thing where they all end up with eachothers tie colours (like james gets a green tie, reg gets a blue tie, and reader gets a red tie). and omg pls feel free to ignore this ik its an odd one. anywhosies i love your fics !! you truly have such a talent for writing :)
soooo cute hehehe, thanks for your request! hope I did the trope justice <3
poly!jegulus x fem!reader who all swap ties [819 words]
CW: somewhat secret relationship (at least James' involvement), accidental outing of that relationship, reader is portrayed as shy and Ravenclaw
You were shy.
Certainly far shier than Sirius, shier than Remus, and perhaps even shier than Regulus.
And it was because you were so shy that Sirius almost felt bad for saying something.
Almost.
“Oi, Rem,” Sirius started whilst keeping his salacious smirk pointed at you, completely unawares of the piss being taken at your expense, “I think you might need to take 10 points from Ravenclaw for being out of uniform.”
Remus looked up from the article he’d been reading as the piece of toast that had been on its way to his mouth paused midair, and you furrowed your brows as you looked up at Sirius from under your lashes.
“Me?” You nearly squeaked when you realised Sirius’ predatory gaze was pointed at you, though Remus had the grace to smile at you apologetically.
“Your tie, love.” Remus explained gently, but that didn’t seem to clear things up for you.
“But…I have my tie on?” You argued in the form of the question, hand migrating unconsciously to the well-tied knot at your neck when James’ voice permeated the atmosphere.
“Angel!” He called out breathlessly as he made it over to the Gryffindor table. “I, erm, I think there might have been a mix up.”
Sirius watched you turn your head - which only served to draw further attention to the fact that you were not wearing your own house colours - to see James loosening the blue and copper tie from around his own neck.
Sirius couldn’t even enjoy the widening of your eyes or the slacking of your jaw when he realised something.
“Wha- wait, no, wait, hang on.” Sirius sputtered as Remus nearly choked on his tea. “Why do you have her tie?”
Your hand quickly began to loosen the tie situated around your neck, though your movements slowed when you realised-
“For Salazar’s sake, Potter.” They heard Regulus hiss as he stalked over from the Slytherin table; Barty, Evan, and Dorcas cackling, seemingly at his expense (to the point that Barty actually slipped off the bench in a fit of laughter), as he ripped the red and gold tie from around his neck.
“What the fuck!?” Sirius shrieked as you finally pulled the green and silver tie off of your person and timidly held it out to your boyfriend.
“Can’t believe you were so quick to blame it on me, Reggie.” James teased; easily replacing his own house tie to his neck and casually fixing the collar of his shirt whilst Regulus turned a completely new shade of pink and you looked like you were hoping for the floor of the Great Hall to simply swallow you up. “It takes two to tango.”
“Or three.” Remus chuckled under his breath, wincing when his boyfriends ire turned towards him.
“Did you know!?” Sirius asked his maybe possibly soon to be ex boyfriend (or certainly his boyfriend who would be getting no cuddles or chocolates from Honeydukes for the next foreseeable future).
“I…had a hunch?” Remus tried.
“The three of you!?” Sirius barked at the three of you then, though you and Regulus seemed to understand the question was for James.
“Yeah!” James responded easily. “We’re pretty cute together, huh?”
Your shoulders migrated impossibly higher at the attention as you tried to cave in on yourself, and Regulus simply rolled his eyes at what he clearly felt was a Gryffindor brand of nonsense.
Sirius had no response to that, though it didn’t appear James was waiting for one. James - the sod - simply pressed a kiss to the side of your head before doing much the same for Regulus and continuing back out of the Great Hall for his meeting with McGonagall as the Headboy.
Regulus let out a frustrated huff and narrowed his eyes at his brother as if just daring him to say anything, though Sirius watched his face soften significantly when he turned his attention to you.
“D’accord, amour?” He murmured quietly. (translation: alright?)
“Ouais.” You offered quickly. “But, erm, can you go away now?”
Sirius sort of expected Regulus to huff in offence or chide you for being quite rude, but Regulus seemed to understand that you simply did not like the attention right now and actually smiled at you.
What the fuck was happening right now!?
“Tu vas bien, mon amour.” (translation: you're okay, my love) Regulus whispered into the side of your head where he pressed his lips before he departed, but the expression on your face made it look as though you very much disagreed with that.
“Oh my gods?!” Sirius let out then when it was just Remus, you, and himself.
“What’s that saying?” Remus asked as he looked back at his newspaper with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Curiosity killed the kneazle?”
“I wasn’t curious, Moons. I was trying to take the piss.” Sirius pouted.
Remus simply hummed at his petulant boyfriend as he winked at you over the Daily Prophet. “Call it karma, then.”
#marauders era#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#reader insert#self insert#regulus black#james potter#jegulus#poly!jegulus#poly!jegulus x reader#poly!jegulus x you#poly!jegulus blurb#poly!jegulus imagine#poly!jegulus fluff#poly!jegulus fic#poly!jegulus ficlet#poly!jegulus drabble#regulus black x reader#regulus black x you#james potter x regulus black#james potter x reader#james potter x you#shy!reader#fem!reader#ellecdc fics
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you're here, that's the thing ˚⟡˖ ࣪ - franco colapinto
summary: your boyfriend tries his best to make your schedules, as a racer and student, work - even when miles apart w/c: 900
a/n: it's finals season for me and i needed to write something self-indulgent as a break from cramming forgive me 🙏
Being a full-time student was one thing, but being a full-time student in a relationship with an extremely clingy boyfriend, who also happened to be travelling the world to race in Formula One, was a whole other challenge.
You and Franco had had some time to adjust to a long-distance relationship since you started dating, having such different lives, and managed to make it work for the most part. But now, with him having to wholly commit to his racing and finals season rolling around for you, it put a strain on your relationship that neither of you was ready for.
It was a strange paradox - the less free time you had outside of classes and studying, the less you were able to spend talking to him, and the more you wanted just to drop everything and fly to where he was. Your morning texts and voice message updates stopped being enough, and before you knew it you struggled to go longer than an hour studying without sending your boyfriend a message to whine and complain.
You were fully aware of how immature and irresponsible this was, but this awareness did little to stop you. And it didn't exactly help that Franco seemed to share the same sentiment, telling you again and again how hard it was for him as well, how racing seemed almost impossible without you there to cheer him on. It hurt, but the two of you just had to do everything you could to get through it - for you to focus on your studies and for him to try his best at racing.
All this came to a head one Sunday though, the afternoon before one of your final exams and - because of the time difference - the night before Franco's next race. Sitting in your dorm alone, surrounded by piles of textbooks, notes and scattered pens you felt a sudden jolt of vulnerability and before you knew it you were reaching for your phone.
"Can you call?" you typed quickly to your boyfriend, your eyes lighting up upon seeing the three dots begin moving almost instantly.
"My gosh, I was just going to ask you the same thing," he replied, and before you knew it your phone was springing to life with a call from him. Clicking accept, you couldn't help but smile widely at the sight of his face.
"Hi," you say, almost shyly.
"Hi baby, how are you?"
"Good," you pause, "stressed."
He nods understandingly, "You're holding up okay, hm? Taking care of yourself?"
"Of course, Franco," you laugh at his almost motherly concern, "and you?"
"Nervous, of course."
"Well, that makes two of us." You pause after speaking, for some reason this call is turning out less enjoyable and more awkward than you hoped.
"I'm sorry, I'm just really tired," you hear your boyfriend say and when you look up you can definitely see it, his eyelids half closing over deep, dark circles under them.
"Do you want to sleep? I have to study anyways."
You watch as he chews his bottom lip, thinking of what to say though once he finally talks his voice is small, almost like a confession. "But I wanted to talk to you."
"We are talking Franco, and we can talk tomorrow once you rest."
This doesn't seem to quell his worries though, his brows still knitted in thought. "I just feel so useless knowing that you're struggling and stressed and I can't even keep you company like I normally do."
You nod sympathetically until an idea pops into your head. "We can keep the call on, carry me over to your bed - you'll sleep and I'll study."
Even through the fatigue pulling him down, Franco nods enthusiastically, doing as you say. You watch him sink into the plush white bedsheets of whatever hotel he's in, and whilst you feel a little jealous at his ability to rest right now, you turn back to your desk and start pulling out your notes.
"You'll be okay," you hear him mumble.
"What do you mean?"
"With your exams," he smiles sleepily, eyes flitting as he watches you pick up your highlighters and pens, "you're the smartest person I know."
"I don't know how much that's saying, you didn't even finish high school baby."
"Hey! I was trying to be nice," he says, feigning offence though there's a soft smile across his face.
"You're right, I'm sorry," you laugh, "you'll be okay as well, with your race tomorrow."
"I hope so."
"I know so."
"I wish you were here," he sighs, looking at you earnestly and all you can do is give him a nod in agreement.
"But for now," you wave your pen to hint at the fact that you need to get back to cramming and he seems to get the hint.
"Right, right, you won't even know I'm here," he assures you.
And despite that, the entire night passes without you once forgetting it. Not that he's distracting or anything, in fact he falls asleep mere minutes after telling you that - leaving you to work peacefully for the rest of the night. Instead, his presence, even as he sleeps, even through a screen and halfway across the world, is enough. You find yourself smiling as you study because maybe having a long-distance boyfriend, even one as clingy as Franco, has been a blessing in disguise all this time.
#franco colapinto#franco colapinto x reader#franco colapinto x you#franco colapinto imagine#franco colapinto fanfic#franco colapinto fluff#franco colapinto oneshot#williams racing#williams f1#formula one fanfic#formula one x reader#formula one fluff#formula one#purinfelix#jet writes ★
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el sueño de una niña II Jenni Hermoso x Reader
masterlist I word count: 2175
a/n: dear readers, the inspiration for this oneshot was Jenni Hermoso's speech at the Ballon d'Or ceremony, enjoy. 🖤💜
“Wait, I know that you’re a football player. Why did you come from my mamis bedroom?”
Jenni was on her way to sneak out of your appartement but when that small voice held her back. Curiously she turned the head around to look into the eyes of a little girl who the Spaniard estimated to be between five to six years old.
That must have been your daughter Mila Jenni thought to herself. It was the big confession after the great night the two of you had spent together.
Something in the reveal activated her flight mode, the forward’s plan was to leave and never look back. Her life was so chaotic she didn’t feel ready to be a part of a family.
Even though everything about yesterday touched her more than Jenni wanted to admit. Images of it flashed behind her eyes capturing passion, beauty and love.
“Uhm.. you didn’t see me, okay?”, the raven-haired woman returned the question flustered.
“But you’re the Jenni Hermoso, right? The one who won the World cup with Spain.”, Mila looked at her big-eyed, her voice full of adoration.
“Yes, but don’t tell anyone.”, Jenni replied, pressing a finger to her lips to underline her words.
“Wow.”, the little girl whispered amazed.
“Sorry, I really need to leave now. I’ve a speech to write.”, the striker apologized.
This didn’t stop Mila to confide in the older woman. “I’d love to be a football player like you when I’m grown up.”
“You do?”, something of your daughter’s sincerity made Jenni stay despite her announcement earlier that she needed to go.
“Yes.”, the girl emphasized.
“Hm..”
“It’s a big dream of mine.”, Mila added smiling shily.
“You’ll have to work hard for it.”, the Spaniard told her seriously.
“I can do that.”, your daughter assured her.
“And people will try to keep you from it.. they will tear you down and hope you’ll be compliant.”, Jenni continued gravely, kneeing down so she could look into the girl’s eyes.
“Did they do that with you?”, Mila questioned empathetically, placing her small hand carefully to the dark-haired woman’s cheek.
“Yes. All my life. So, promise me one thing, okay?”, she confirmed.
“Okay?”
“Don’t let anyone tell you what you can and cannot be. Promise?”, Jenni pressed a kiss to your daughter’s fingers.
“I promise.”, Mila answered solemnly.
“If you excuse me now.”, the older woman gave her an apologetic look.
“Bye, Jenni. I hope I’ll see you back soon.”, the girl said in an optimistic tone that left no doubt that the football player would return to your appartement.
“We’ll see. Thank you though.”, Jenni answered gratefully.
“Thank you for what?”, your daughter frowned confused.
“You just gave me an idea for my speech.”, the football player’s face lit up with excitement as she spoke.
Jenni shuffled the pieces of papers once more while someone applied her make up for the Ballon D’Or ceremony.
The writing on her notes was almost illegible, she had scribbled down her thoughts way too quickly on her way to the venue. It didn’t matter. She knew now what she wanted to say on stage. Still, she refused to let go of her notes.
“Jenni, have you actually prepared a speech?”
Alexias face appeared behind her in the mirror, She was already in her suit, her hair pulled into a low bun.
Jenni was about to complain about the surprised tone of Alexias voice when Patri joined them: “No way! I thought you’d just start talking like you always do.“
Jenni raised one eyebrow at the reflection of her two Spanish teammates and grinned: “That was the initial plan but I had a better idea.“
“Did someone spark your inspiration?”, Marta asked innocently.
Once the make-up artist let go of her face, she turned towards them and nodded: “Yes. And I hope she’s watching.“
Her teammates exchanged unreadable glances without saying a word while Jenni walked past them, leading the way to the award ceremony.
For what felt like hours, they sat there and listened to men talk. Jennis gaze kept going back to the clock, willing the time to slow down or the speakers to talk faster so Mila had a chance to watch before her bedtime.
Finally, she was called up on stage to receive her award. There was applause but she knew a lot of the people weren’t satisfied with her nomination. She held onto her notes and it all faded into the background once she started speaking about the little girl that wanted to follow in her footsteps, the girl that deserved to have a safer environment to play football in.
Her teammates welcomed her back to her seat with standing ovations. Alexia nodded at her once with a set jaw while Aitana gave her an inquiring look: “You dedicated it to a young girl? Who’s that?”
“Someone I met this morning.“, Jenni replied truthfully as she sat down.
“She seems to have left quite an impression on you.“, Caroline remarked.
“She did. Sometimes I wonder why I put up with all this shit… but there are so many little girls out there that should have it better than we did back then.“
“I agree with that.“, Alexia chimed in.
Marta nodded in agreement: “Me too, obviously. We had to put up with a lot.“
“Let’s be honest, we still do.“, Aitana whispered.
Jenni answered with new-found determination: “Yes but until she gets older, we might have already changed some more things.“
“I bet we will.“, Salma said quietly, before they all went quiet again and focused on the next award recipient.
Much to the surprise of her national and former club teammates Jenni announced at the after party, the alcohol-free wine glass still resting in her hand untouched. “I think I’m going to leave.”
“Leave?”, Patri repeated puzzled.
“Yeah, this party is boring anyway.”, the striker shrugged. The other women secretly thought the same, they couldn’t celebrate like the men around them as they were having a national team game the next morning.
Seeing Jenni step into your apartment while she still wore her glamorous dark suit jacket showing a large portion of her skin underneath felt almost unreal to you. It wasn’t that long ago when Mila and you watched the ballon d’or ceremony on tv and now she was back in flesh and blood. The football player was even more gorgeous here than on the screen.
Quickly Jenni revealed that the celebrations had bored her which was the moment you told her about your night.
“Mila stayed awake the whole time, she didn’t want to fall asleep until you were on the stage, Jenni.”
“She watched?”, the dark-haired woman asked happily.
“Yes, Mila loved everything about your speech.”, you nodded thrilled by the fact that your excitement was mirrored in the forward’s face.
“I’ve to thank her. She inspired me.”, she confessed.
“You inspired her as well.”, you admitted smiling.
“Even if she’s the only one, I reached my goal.”, Jenni beamed.
“To be fair I think you inspired many more with your words.”, you remarked solemnly.
“I hope so.”, the dark-haired woman sighed.
“Trust me.”, you answered softly.
After a meaningful pause you added. “I almost thought you wouldn’t call or wanted to see me again back then you left without a word in the morning.”
“That would sound like me actually.”, the footballer cleared her throat nervously. She loved to play the game, haunting for the next great beauty to court and lay down in bed with before going on the haunt again, always being a restless player. All was fair in love and football.
“She’ll appreciate the thank you though, it’ll mean a lot to her.”, you said while you bit your lip.
“That’s why I’m here. I want to thank you both.”, Jenni looked at you sincerely.
“Shouldn’t you be at the grand afterparty sipping champagne and flirting with pretty women?”, you lifted an eyebrow curiously.
“Not many women there that aren’t my teammates. And I’m not allowed to drink, I’ve to be back with my national team tomorrow.”, the striker chuckled amused.
“I see.”
“And maybe I preferred to spend my time here.”, she acknowledged, one hand ran tensely through her long hair.
You considered her for a moment and nodded in the direction of Milas bedroom: “Sadly she’s already asleep…“
“That’s okay. I could stay if you let me.“
You knew you should have thought about it for longer but you couldn’t resist the thought of Jenni staying one more night: “Yes, you can. If you promise to say goodbye in the morning.“
“If I was planning to sneak out again, I wouldn’t have told you.“, Jenni half-joked.
You tilted your head: “Good point.“
“So?”
“You can stay the night.“, you finally confirmed.
Relief seemed to flash across Jennis face for a millisecond: “Thanks.“
“You’re welcome, Jenni.“
The next morning you were woken up by footsteps on the wooden floor. Your heart sank immediately, thinking it was Jenni breaking her promise so you refused to turn around. You didn’t want to watch her leave again. Instead you heard a tiny voice whisper in awe: “Jenni!”
“Woah, you’re already awake, little one. Good morning.“, Jenni yawned and stretched right next to you.
She was still here, still in your bed.
“I saw you! Last night!”, Mila said full of excitement.
“You did? And did you like my suit? It’s on that chair.“, Jenni smiled, pointing across the room.
You watched as Mila walked over and gently touched the fabric in awe.
“It’s beautiful.“
“Right? Next year I’ll take you and your mum with me.“, the football player said, winking at you as if to tell you that she knew you were awake.
While the smile fell from your face, Milas eyes lit up: “What? Really?”
“Yes, why not?”
You might have been desperate for her to stay another night but you weren’t delusional. Who knew where the two of you were in a year? Most likely not sharing a bed anymore.
“Don’t promise her too much.“, you warned the football player.
Jenni was unusually quiet before replied: “I… mean it.“
“You mean it?”
“I do. I want to keep seeing you and her.“, she said with determination.
Milas eyes had been darting back and forth between the two of you like she was watching a tennis match. “We want to keep seeing you too!”, she yelled happily.
Completely ignoring you, Jenni turned back to your daughter and pulled her onto the bed: “Would you like to see a football game in Italy tonight?”
Mila was bursting with joy: “Yes!”
“I mean isn’t that too spontaneous? Like what about the airplane tickets?“, you interjected.
“I can take care of it all. But only if that’s okay with you.“, Jenni offered while Mila put on her best puppy eyes: “Pleeease.“
Who were you to deny your daughter such a once in a lifetime opportunity?
With a hesitant nod, you finally agreed: “Okay.“
The day has flown by, Mila and you quickly packed your bag for one night, before following your lover to get on the plane. While the striker was on the team walk, your daughter and you did your own exploring the Italian surroundings. It was like a daydream from which you didn’t want to wake up.
In the evening, you could feel from the stands Jennis glances on you who was standing on the pitch with some of her friends. Next to you Mila couldn’t hide her excitement seeing her favourite players live. It genuinely warmed your heart to witness and share that special moment with your child.
“Pretty girl from next door? She’s so your type, Jenni.”, Laia Codina wiggled her eyebrows.
“That’s why she’s here.”, the forward winked at the defender.
With a smirk on her face Alexia bumped her elbow into her teammates side. “Who would’ve thought that Jennifer found herself a family.”
“Strange things happen, Ale.”, Jenni shrugged with her shoulders.
“Yes, it’s Halloween soon.”, Vicky threw in teasingly.
“Rude.”, the older striker commented smiling.
“Vicky.”, the Barcelona captain clicked her tongue reprovingly.
The test game ended in a draw, but that didn’t stop Jenni from giving you a passionate kiss.
“That wasn’t very subtle, Jenni.”, you laughed.
“I don’t care about subtle anymore.”, she clarified grinning.
“What about the others watching?”, you asked her, cheeks flushed.
“They just love to stare at pretty girls.”, Jenni stated firmly.
“Pretty girls, hm?”, you repeated. Admittedly under her intense gaze you felt more beautiful than ever before. She didn’t hide her desire towards you and wasn’t afraid to show it in the public.
“Yes.”, she confirmed.
“Kiss me again.”, you requested, your voice slightly hoarse from cheering. Before you even could finish your sentence, her lips were on yours, making both of your hearts flutter.
Everything started with a dream of a little girl which was your daughter, in which Jenni saw her younger self, Mila undoubtedly became her inspiration for the speech. The three of you would now dream together.
Keep dreaming.
gif source: https://www.tumblr.com/imverits/765621490900238336?source=share
#woso#woso community#woso x reader#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso oneshot#woso one shot#jenni hermoso#jenni hermoso x reader#jenni hermoso imagine#tigres femenil#espwnt#espwnt x reader#espwnt imagine#sefutbolfem#futfem#woso fanfic#alexia putellas#aitana bonmati#patri guijarro#salma paralluelo#marta torrejon#caroline graham hansen#laia codina#barca femeni#barca femini x reader#barcelona femeni#woso blurbs#woso appreciation
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chemical override (13)
Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader
a/n: the elections distracted me! This should have been up ages ago 💙 Anyhow, look at our boy pout up there. Darling never stood a chance.
series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist
Darling gets closer to making her choice.
The holiday is already shaping up to be your most memorable one yet, and it’s only halfway done.
Between all the commotion in the press about Ewan’s film, the lively spin-the-bottle game last night, and your… boys being more brazen in their affections, it doesn’t matter that you’re still half-limping and that one gorgeous blonde girl is testing the limits of your patience—Mallorca is one for the books.
Half of your vacation crew decided to head out into town for the afternoon, allowing you to see more of the local scene. Bethany, Phia, Luke, and Elliott have ventured off to see some shops moments prior, promising to rejoin the group with loads of goodies. So you walk the cobblestone streets with Tom and Freddie on either side, the lads promising to catch you should your ankle ‘betray you and make you faceplant on the street’.
Because, as Freddie put it, they “can’t have the show’s rising star with a blow to her money-maker,” pertaining to your lovely face.
You were able to finally remove your fracture boot that morning, after a long-distance call to your doctor, but you still have to slightly drag your left leg as you walk.
“Mate, if you could hurry up a little, maybe we can see more of the town,” Tom remarks with a cheeky smirk. He’s had an arm looped around yours the whole time, ever on the lookout.
“Sure, let me just use my incredible powers of self-healing. Maybe we can check one of these souvenir shops if they’ve got a bionic leg on sale,” you deadpan, fighting hard to stifle a laugh.
The fledgling weeks of spring bring a steady warmth to Mallorca. The sunlight is bright yet tempered as it casts its glow over the cobblestone streets, illuminating the quaint storefronts and cafes that line that town square. It’s a picture-perfect afternoon, so long as you don’t turn back to Ewan and Louise who are trailing a bit behind.
But your curiosity wins over, and you see Ewan smiling politely as Louise gestures animatedly, completely absorbed in her tale. You immediately realise your mistake, a pang of something—guilt, longing, confusion… and jealousy, because who are you fooling—tightening in your chest. You quickly turn back to Tom and Freddie, who are too busy scheming to notice your reaction.
“So, do we let Ewan suffer, or do we intervene?” Tom asks, tilting his head toward the pair.
You can only shrug. “I think he’s handling it. It’s probably better to give them some space.” The truth is, you know Ewan well enough to sense when he’s at his wit’s end, and even though he looks like he’s about to throw in the towel, you don’t want to complicate things further.
Who are you to deny Louise some quality time with your good buddy Ewan Mitchell? He is a stand-up guy, after all, and all of you are friends here. It’s a casual day out, nothing but a good time.
And… you do need some time to let his confession sink in. He has given the power to you, and the only thing left to do would be to choose him.
You love him, you love him, you love him.
So the choice should be easy, but why isn’t it?
Freddie smirks. “Space, you say? You mean you’re hoping he’ll finally snap and make a break for it?”
“Maybe,” you admit with a small smile. “Can you blame him?”
The three of you linger by a cafe, chatting to your heart’s delight. You catch sight of Ewan glancing your way, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. Hey, he mouths, staring you down until Louise nudges him, and he has to shift his focus back to her.
“Honestly, though,” Tom continues, “what’s the deal with him and Louise? He looks like he’s drowning over there.”
“Maybe she’s finally wearing him down,” you say, half-joking, but you’re aware of how often Ewan gives too much of himself sometimes, especially to someone like Louise. The boy’s just too sweet and polite to say no.
“I give him five minutes before he either leaves or starts shouting for you,” Freddie chimes in, his eyes dancing behind his sunglasses. “It’s a safe bet.”
Before you can respond, Ewan’s voice rises above the clamour of the street. “Actually, that’s not what I meant—”
“I can’t believe you thought that!” Louise interrupts, playfully punching Ewan’s arm, her tone a mix of disbelief and enthusiasm. “But that’s what makes you so unique! You always see things differently.”
What’s unique is the expression Ewan sports as a reaction, akin to a deer about to be hit by a Jeep.
“Unique?” Ewan repeats, a note of incredulity in his voice. He shakes his head, his mouth falling open, like he’s trying to find the words. Louise leans in closer, mentioning something about how cute he looks when confused.
Well, she’s not wrong there. You have to hand it to her—she’s persistent.
“Why are we just standing around?” Tom suddenly says. “Let’s get some drinks. We need to fuel up for the gossip you owe us.”
“I’m in,” you say a bit too quickly, desperate for a distraction. You motion toward a quaint nearby bar with a bustling atmosphere. It seems like the perfect refuge, far from the intensity of the current situation. The bartender greets you with a grin, and Tom takes charge, ordering a round of brightly-coloured cocktails that seem to match the vibe of the holiday.
Tom gives you a sly look over his glass. “So here we are, eh?”
“Here we are,” you nod, sensing something coming round the corner.
“My god, this cocktail is amazing!” Freddie gasps dramatically, oblivious to the look you and Tom are sharing. “I must know what’s in this… Is that gin and… and what?”
“I myself would rather know,” Tom begins, leaning forward, “about the truth behind all the drama. The are-they-or-aren’t-they of it all. My missus has also been bugging me about it. All she talks about is you and your Ewan.”
Freddie’s grin is huge as he raises his glass. “Bloody hell, cheers to that then! I know there’s something brewing, but no one ever tells me the details. What is this, a fight to the death? May the best Targaryen win? Lucky girl you are.”
Tom snorts. “Or may the right man win. Which, to be honest, is not Matt in this scenario.”
Freddie’s jaw drops in mock horror, clutching his chest. You may take the lad out of classical theatre for a while, but you can’t take classical theatre out of the lad. “Excuse me? Matt is a national treasure, he’s mature and reliable, and he throws a fabulous party. Might I mention how highly he speaks of you?”
Tom shoots him a scornful look. “Reliable. How riveting. Look, I love the guy, but Ewan’s practically half of her soul—”
You groan. “Can we not turn this into a debate? I’m actually trying to keep things simple now.”
“Simple,” Tom repeats, one blonde eyebrow arching. “Darling, nothing about this is simple, especially not since Ewan isn’t bound to that ridiculous PR setup anymore. Are you going to pretend that it doesn't change things?”
Freddie waves a finger. “It doesn’t have to change things. Matt’s good for her. I mean, they’re actually happy, and you need someone solid, love. Someone who isn’t going to fling you around emotionally, from the very little that I’ve heard.”
Tom rolls his eyes. “Of course, you’d think that. You get all your goss from Liv and she basically adores Matt.”
Freddie clutches his glass defensively. “Well I know for a fact that Matt is fun! And steady! You don’t need fireworks all the time to make something work.”
“But fireworks are the whole point, you know?” Tom insists. “You can’t reduce a relationship to sensible compatibility and call it love.”
“Love can be practical too,” Freddie says, looking at you. “Wouldn’t it be nice to just…breathe? To not have to worry about how he’s going to handle things every other minute?”
You wince, half-convinced by Freddie’s logic, but then Tom’s voice cuts in, softer, more serious.
“Sure, she could breathe,” Tom says, “but let’s not forget who actually takes her breath away.”
It hits you, the truth you’ve been dancing around with both of them.
Freddie gives you a sidelong look. “Alright, love, confession time. Say Ewan was still bound to that PR relationship, do you really think you could have handled not being with him? Watching him essentially be with someone else?”
You swallow, glancing down at your drink. “It would have hurt, but I would have had to handle it.”
Tom keeps the interrogation going. “And now? What would you do if he does end up with someone else? Louise seems to have her claws in him.”
You let out a huff, your next words decisive. “Look, if she can take him that easily, then he’s all hers.” Because that would mean all those heartfelt phrases about being so in love with you aren’t true.
That’s the reasonable part of you. The other, less savoury part wouldn’t hesitate to get your own claws in Louise if she swoops in to take your man, petty catfight style.
“But see! See here,” Freddie exclaims in glee, “We’re talking about Ewan and she’s already stressed. She needs a break from the drama, Tom, and Matt is like… an oasis.”
Tom rolls his eyes but doesn’t let it go. “Sure, an oasis that leaves her wishing she were somewhere else half the time.” He sighs, his voice softening. “Look, Matt’s lovely, but he’s not the one. He’s not the one who can turn your whole world upside down, and I know you two. I’ve seen you together, I’ve seen you apart, and trust me, you’re so much better together. Hell, it’s better for all of us too! I simply cannot deal with Ewan moping around again.”
You feel your cheeks warm as you consider his words. It’s almost dizzying, trying to compare the two men, as though they represent opposite sides of you, each offering something you desperately need. They’re both right, in different ways. With Matt, there’s a sense of stability that you haven’t felt before. He’s steady, he’s sweet, and he genuinely adores you despite all of the tangled strings that have bound you to Ewan.
But with Ewan… you want him, love him, with an intensity that is almost all-consuming. It’s the kind they write songs about, the kind that drives hearts crazy.
Freddie drops the dramatics, his voice sincere when he speaks again. “Darling, Tom’s got a point, but just… be honest with yourself. What do you really want? Because whatever you decide, it’s your heart on the line. And you know, we’re here for you, no matter who you choose.” And then, as if with the flick of a switch, he turns his flair back on. “God, you could choose me, just so you don’t have to deal with this dilemma of yours anymore!”
You let out a breathy laugh, all the tension you’re feeling dissipating. “I just might!”
Tom mirrors your laughter. “Now that’s a dangerous idea. But hey, life’s short, right? You don’t have to have it all figured out right this second.”
Freddie grins, raising a toast. “To being a beautiful mess.”
You clink your glass with theirs, watching in amusement as they both begin bickering again over who’s really the better choice. As the debate drifts over to which drink to order next, a quiet but unmistakable presence makes its way to your table. Ewan stands behind you, his hands resting on the back of your chair.
“I’ve been looking for you guys,” he greets calmly.
Freddie doesn’t hesitate to take a playful jab. “Ah, Ewan! All by your lonesome now? Where’s your lady?”
Ewan perches on the last empty chair on your table, catching your eyes. “My lady’s right here,” he smirks, and he says the words with such ease that your cheeks heat. Everyone would benefit from taking lessons in the Ewan Mitchell School of Charm. “Fancy a walk, darling?”
You quickly glance at Tom and Freddie, whose raised brows practically tell you that they’re going to be chattering about this as soon as you’re out of earshot. “Try not to miss me too much, boys,” you wink at them, letting Ewan help you out of your seat and whisk you away. He offers his arm to you for support, and the two of you fall into stride, allowing the buzz of Mallorca’s streets to fill the quiet between you.
“So,” he starts, “I sure hope Tom and Freddie didn’t give you any trouble.”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” you smile, your tone lowering as you decide to tease him a little. “We would have invited you over, but you seemed to have plenty of… entertainment yourself.” You playfully wag your eyebrows at him, and he makes a show of groaning and turning away.
“Don’t remind me, my darling,” he groans. “I was so close to faking an illness and making my escape.”
You chuckle at his apparent distress. “Poor Ewan. It must be so hard being adored by a beautiful girl, isn’t it? Wait, where is she again? Did you scare her off?”
“Phia came to my rescue. They went walking by the bay or something, I don’t know. And about being adored, it only matters to me if it’s by you.”
You’re about to lean into a joke and call his bluff, when he adds, “Well, you… and my mum.”
“I thought so,” you giggle, his eyes holding yours with a familiar sweetness. But then his gaze is snagged by something behind you.
“Is it just me, or does that cat look suspiciously like Sansa?” Ewan points to the front display of a rustic souvenir shop, and you immediately see a plush black cat with curious amber eyes.
You gasp softly, your hand tightening around his bicep. “I did leave Sansa back with my neighbour in London, right?”
“Are you sure? She’s right there, darling,” he plays along, grinning. “I think I’d recognise my daughter when I see her.”
“Your daughter, huh? The most you have right now is visitation rights.”
“Wait here, baby,” he presses a kiss to your temple, leaving you leaning against the wall across the shop. He disappears inside, emerging just moments later, the little cat plushie already in his hands. His expression is tender as he passes it to you. “Here. Figured you could use a bit of home.”
You take the little black cat, heart swelling at the sweetness of his gesture. “Thank you, Ewan. She’s perfect.”
He’s all smiles, his dimples deepening as he nods in response.
You hug plush Sansa to your chest. “Now I wish they also had whippet plushies, so I can give you a piece of home too…”
Ewan’s gaze softens, and he shifts slightly, his gaze dropping as he gathers his thoughts. “Darling, I hope you won’t think I’m just trying to score brownie points here or something, given the current situation, but honestly��” He hesitates, but makes up his mind as his eyes meet yours. “If I wanted to feel at home, all I really need is… to be with you.”
Your breath catches, and your mind is too focused on what you’ve just heard that your hold loosens around plush Sansa, causing it to nearly stumble out of your hands.
“Ewan,” you say softly, your voice laced with an affection you can’t quite dampen. “You don’t play fair, you know that?”
He chuckles, a little self-conscious, his hand reaching for yours. “You know me, darling, and you know how I feel about you.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the touch is light, almost reverent.
“So, no Sansa needed, huh?” you tease gently, trying to keep things light even as the weight of his words lingers.
His smile returns, a little shy, a little playful. “You got that right. But maybe we don’t have to tell Sansa about this.”
You’re about to offer a witty rejoinder, when a cheerful shout slices through the air. “Ewan!” It’s Louise, her voice loud and undeniably eager, and you find yourself dropping Ewan’s hand.
And either you’re not in her line of sight, or she just didn’t bother calling out to you too. What a delightful girl.
“Oh,” Louise finally acknowledges you. “That’s a nice… toy you’ve got there.”
“It’s a plushie actually,” you mutter dryly, wiggling plush Sansa in the air.
Ewan snorts at your deadpan expression, and much to Louise’s obvious annoyance, he drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you snugly against him. “I got it for her. It’s almost an exact replica of her cat, isn’t it, darling?”
Your eyes widen at his purposeful cheekiness. The lad has finally had enough of another girl trying to get a bite out of him. “Well, yeah…” you stumble on your words, “It does look like her.”
Louise pouts. “What a nice, friendly gesture.”
Ewan chuckles to himself, not letting her mood dampen his spirits. “I think it’s rather romantic.”
“Hold on,” Louise responds, appraising you with a raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you dating Matty?”
“Uhhh—”
“There you kids are!” Phia materialises out of thin air, an angel in disguise.
Oh, you could just kiss the very ground she walks on.
Everyone makes their way to the pool area the next afternoon, the group scattered all around the lush backyard of the villa.
Matt lingers outside your door, waiting for you to finish changing. He leans casually against the railing, his gaze drifting downstairs to Fabien and Elliott, who are hauling crates of beer toward the poolside. He whistles and shouts out a playful, “Save me some, lads!”
“Waiting on your woman, Romeo?” Elliott sings up at him.
Matt waves them away, spinning around to face your door. As he waits, his mind drifts back to a conversation he had with Liv the evening before. She’d seen right through him, spotting the quiet insecurities he tried to keep buried and urging him to go all in with you, to show you what he couldn’t quite put into words. And so, he decided he would; he’d pour everything into showing you just how much he cared.
He has the advantage in that he hasn’t hurt you the way Ewan has in the past, and he has absolutely no intention of doing so, not when being with you feels like the easiest, most natural thing in the world.
To him, you are like the human equivalent of a shot of espresso, a musical laugh, a jolt of positive inspiration. He’s always felt this, but one night, many nights ago, this effect that you have on him became amplified.
And suddenly, you are all he sees.
And he wouldn’t have it any other way, especially not after you finally open the door. You don a forest green bikini that leaves little to the imagination, with a sheer white wrap tied loosely around your waist.
Matt lets out a low whistle, walking up to you with a slow, playful swagger. You roll your eyes at him when he unapologetically draws his gaze over your bare skin, but he can’t help it.
You look so ravishing that he wants to push you back inside the room. As stunning as your bikini is, it would look even better off.
To hell with the pool.
“What do you think?”
He has roused from whatever grey temperament he was stuck in, now that he’s had his espresso. “I'm a goner. Absolutely done for.”
“Flatterer.” You shake your head at him, taking in his broad, bare torso. “Well, you don’t look so bad yourself.”
He smirks, his large hands kneading your waist. “I'm the luckiest man on the planet, and this is you after an accident, you say? My love, you're a vision in green.”
“You like the colour?”
“Mmm, if I didn't like you in it, I'd cause a fuss about how you're playing for the other team, my Alyna.” He swoops down and kisses the crook of your neck, the spot he is aware would tickle, eliciting a soft giggle out of you.
“I could never,” you say, swatting his arm. “They were just out of black bikinis at the shop.”
“Black... green... we both know you look the best without either of them on. I mean, we did establish that six times in one night, remem—”
“Matt!” you squeal, eyes wide and scandalised. He feels smug, because he made sure you would never forget that night. “You're such a dog. Come on, let's join the others. I can’t wait to finally dip my toes in the pool.”
He is one step ahead of you the whole time, paying special attention to your bad ankle. He knows he’s being too careful when you eye him strangely, but he doesn’t care. “I got you,” he says.
“I can walk, you know,” you huff. “I’d have been down here ten seconds ago if it wasn’t for you going all Mr. Protector.”
As you reach the final landing, Phia’s voice rings out, “Hands off my woman!”
“She’s got a point.” You tilt your head at Matt, lips pulling at the corners.
“Have I? I was just kidding,” she shakes her head, before mumbling under her breath. “I'm not Ewan.”
Matt huffs out in response, trying not to let it get to him. Phia takes your other arm, deaf to your protests. It’s silly, because they’re both aware that you can probably fend for yourself, but not if they have anything to say about it.
Fabien, Elliott, and Harry are manning the grill out on the patio. Some of the ladies are cozying on their sun chairs. Ewan, Luke, and Freddie are smoking on a bench under a canopy. And Thom Yorke serenades the whole scene, the speakers emitting ambient music.
Matt’s always loved a good European excursion, but this one might be his favourite yet. Thanks to the girl who lets him fuss over her despite her feigned annoyance.
Your fingers dig tighter into his arm as the two of you lower into the pool. He relishes the moment and allows the ebb of the water to push him closer to his girl.
“Hold on to me.”
You roll your eyes, but wrap your arms around his shoulders anyway. “I'm fine, Matthew. My ankle’s almost healed back to normal.”
“Almost is the keyword there, my love. We can't take any chances. So... hold on to me, beautiful.” The late morning sun is a blanket comfort as you float on together, your laughter ringing out as he flaps an arm on the water and splashes your face.
From the sidelines, Freddie lets out a loud, teasing whistle. Matt responds with a triumphant fist pump, turning to give him a cheeky grin.
That might have been a mistake because his eyes landed on Ewan, seated comfortably to Freddie’s left, a cigarette burning low between his lips. His eyes are obscured by dark sunglasses, but he’s clearly surveying the scene unfolding in the pool with an air of nonchalance that doesn’t sit well with Matt.
He would have expected Ewan to jump in the pool as well and make a show of laying a claim on you as he had before. But no. The younger lad just sits, and watches, the makings of a smirk pulling at his lips when Matt makes eye contact.
Since when has he been this self-assured? Perhaps you’re to credit for this renewed sense of confidence?
Are you slipping away from him, and back into Ewan’s arms?
Too many questions, and not even the pleasant haze of Spain can shake the anxiety out of him.
But then, Liv strolls over, positioning herself in front of Ewan, blocking Matt’s view. She bums a cigarette from one of the guys, and as she turns, she gives Matt a subtle nod—a reminder of her advice from last night. Just show her, she’d said. Show her you’re all in.
Thank the heavens for Olivia.
Turning back to you, Matt softens, brushing a lock of hair from your face. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, feeling his doubts fade as you meet his gaze, eyes bright with laughter.
“Enjoying yourself there?” you ask sweetly.
“What’s not to enjoy?” he replies, his hand tracing slow, lazy circles on your back.
“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you glare like that before.”
“I was not glaring.”
“You so were, Matthew.”
“Oh, yeah?” he murmurs, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. Before you can react, he dips underwater, reemerging just inches from your thigh, where he plants a quick, teasing kiss that makes you yelp.
“Wha—Oh! Matt! Get up here!”
He surfaces, grinning, his arms winding around you again as he pulls you close. Your laughter mingles, echoing across the pool as the rest of the group cheers and jeers good-naturedly.
Just as Matt’s about to pull you in for another kiss, a loud shout breaks through the calm.
“Cannonball!” Tom’s voice echoes from the villa, and before either of you can turn around, he comes barreling out, sprinting at full speed. With a triumphant yell, he launches himself off the edge, arms and legs splayed out like a human starfish.
The massive splash sends water arcing high, soaking you, Matt, and everyone within a ten-foot radius.
“Always one to ruin the moment, Tom,” Matt jokes.
“Had to make sure you two didn’t get too cosy,” Tom shoots back, swimming closer and clapping Matt on the shoulder.
It’s all in good fun, sure, but then Matt catches Tom shoot a quick wink at Ewan, a flash of understanding passing between them.
So that’s how it’s going to be? Game on.
It’s the penultimate day of the Mallorca trip and the group has rented boats to paddle out along the stunning coastline. Only 2 people are allowed per vessel and some pairs have already formed—Phia and Phoebe, Louise thankfully pulled away from Ewan by Bethany, Harry and Freddie…
And then there’s Ewan who strides over to you determinedly. Matt is a half-step behind, his expression expectant, but Ewan is quicker. “I’m with you today, darling,” he says, his tone leaving little room for question. His hand finds yours, warm and grounding.
Matt’s eyes flicker with disappointment but he’s never been one to kick up a fuss. He gives you a faint resigned shrug, then turns to Liv. “Guess that means you and I are a team then.”
Liv rolls her eyes playfully, pushing her sunglasses up and swatting his arm. “Don’t sound so thrilled. But I promise I won’t make you row the entire time.”
Matt’s smile softens as he looks at her, his earlier disappointment slipping into something more relaxed. “Fine, but I’m claiming the right to judge your rowing skills.”
“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent rower,” Liv insists, taking her spot at the front of the boat and casting a teasing glance at him. “You, on the other hand…we’ll see.”
As you and Ewan push off into the water, he throws a glance back at the others, and a spark of mischief lights his eyes. “Think they’ll survive?”
You laugh, settling across Ewan on the boat. “I think it’ll be a surprise if Tom’s boat doesn’t capsize.”
Soon enough, everyone’s boats are spaced out on the clear, serene waters, and there’s nothing but the occasional splash of oars, the birds squawking high above, and the warm glow of the horizon. Ewan rows steadily, having doggedly refused your offer to help, and every now and then, his eyes flick to you, a soft smile never leaving his lips. His gaze lingers, like he’s committing your image to memory.
As you watch the world, he watches his world.
“Feels like another reality out here, doesn’t it?” he says, his voice barely above a murmur.
You nod, watching the sunlight dance across the water. “It really does.” You pause, glancing over your shoulder to see Liv and Matt, already in animated conversation. “It’s nice to just… forget everything for a while.”
He smiles, tilting his head. “Anything specific you wanna forget?”
You smile back. “Everything, really. The pressures, the expectations… wondering what everyone thinks or wants.”
From a few metres away, Matt’s voice carries over the water, cutting through the quiet intimacy of the moment. “I’m just saying, Liv, you don’t have to prove anything. You can let me row.”
Liv laughs, her voice filled with playful defiance. “Matt, I am fully capable of handling this. Maybe it’s you who should be taking notes.”
“Oh, I’d hate to step on your expert skills,” Matt teases back, before throwing a glance your way, his gaze lingering a bit too long before he turns back to Liv, who seems blissfully unaware of his momentary distraction.
Ewan notices it too, and his grip on the oar tightens ever so slightly. But he says nothing, keeping his focus on you as he rows further along the shore.
He steers the boat around a small bend, his voice low. “They’re good together, don’t you think?”
You turn, following his gaze. It’s a simple, easy dynamic between them, one you know you’ve seen before, and for a moment, a pang of something unnameable twists in your chest.
“Yeah,” you murmur, a touch distracted.
Ewan catches your gaze, his eyes searching yours. “You seem… surprised. Or maybe… jealous?”
You laugh it off, shaking your head. “Not at all. It’s just—”
But before you can finish, a sudden splash interrupts you. Harry’s boat has tipped over, both he and Freddie flailing in the water, their laughter filling the air as they try to right themselves.
Bethany, a few feet away, doubles over, her laughter carrying over the waves. “Oh my god, Freddie, I told you to sit still!”
Harry, sputtering as he surfaces, grins. “Guess I got too excited.”
“So I was wrong,” you turn to Ewan, smirking. “It’s not Tom who capsized.”
Ewan just laughs, then adds slyly, “Here I was wishing it would have been Matt.”
After the boats return to shore, you’re all tired and exhilarated, the sun higher in the sky as you make your way up the beach. But the peace is short-lived. Fans, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, begin to gather along the shore, their voices excited, cameras ready as they shout greetings and ask for photos. The relaxed energy shifts as each of you is drawn into the swirl of attention, questions flying as you try to keep up.
A fan steps in close, slightly shaking in her nerves. “You… and Ewan?” she asks, the question open-ended but its meaning clear.
You chuckle awkwardly, caught off guard, opting to just wrap an arm around her shoulders as she takes a selfie with you.
But the fan is relentless, her attention shifting to Matt, who’s standing off to the side with Liv, his gaze directed toward you even as he signs another fan’s poster. “What about him?” she says, grinning.
Ewan’s arm slips around your waist protectively, pulling you closer. “She’s with me today,” he says confidently, not minding the possibility of this fan taking to the internet after this encounter, with proof of her ship actually being together.
Ewan doesn’t care; he has no reason to hide how much he wants you. Not anymore. If his fans want a crumb, as he often reads online about him, then he’s going to give them a whole feast.
With you as the main course in the Ewan banquet.
As the day comes to a close, you find yourself resting all alone in your room, stealing the group introvert mantle right under Ewan’s nose. Everything that has happened during this vacation plays in your mind like a montage, and somehow, it all feels like it’s building up to a grand finale.
But before you can lose yourself completely in your thoughts, there’s a soft knock at your door.
You groan to yourself as you walk over, but your protest dies as you find Ewan standing there, holding something behind his back.
“Hey, you,” he greets you with a smirk that’s more mischievous than usual. “Got a minute?”
Your heart skips a beat — it’s always been that way with him, that instant flutter, even now after everything. “Sure. What’s up?”
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says, his grin widening at your raised brow. He steps into your room, pulling whatever he’s hiding behind his back.
When he finally reveals it, you blink, eyes widening. “You... bought these?” You can’t help but laugh.
Two brightly coloured superhero masks — one Spider-Man, the other Spider-Gwen.
“Yep, I saw a costume shop that had Carnaval masks… and these too, apparently,” Ewan says, looking pleased with himself. “I thought it would be fun. We’re getting away from the villa tonight. I figured we could use these. You know, masks for our incognito date night.”
It had taken one quick scroll on the internet for your group to discover that the paparazzi trailed everyone around town today, and Elliott even annoyingly revealed that he might have seen one or two of them lingering outside the villa’s premises.
Vultures.
You laugh again, shaking your head. “Wait, you’re serious? We’re wearing these to our… date? Wait, why are we going on a date?”
He shrugs with a playful glint in his eye. “Why not?”
You hesitate for a second. It’s such a ridiculous idea, but in the best possible way. He’s always had a way of pulling you out of your own head, making you feel like there’s no right or wrong way to just live in the moment.
Or maybe he could propose anything—anything at all—and you’d be beside yourself if you refused. It’s how you and him ended up having copious amounts of…. casual lovemaking, months after breaking up.
“Okay,” you finally say, “but only if you promise not to laugh when I look completely ridiculous in it.”
“Never,” he says with mock solemnity, holding out the Spider-Gwen mask for you. “You’ll look amazing. Trust me.”
As you slink past the gates, the masks make you feel more than a little silly, but also oddly liberated. It’s like you’re in on another secret with him, something just for the two of you.
You look at him, smiling as you adjust the mask. “This is insane,” you say, your voice muffled behind the fabric.
Ewan smiles back, clearly pleased with himself. “I know. And it’s perfect.”
“Are you sure this isn’t just you practicing for an audition for yet another Spiderman reboot?”
He only playfully shoots air webs at you, his adorable pew-pew noises audible under his mask.
You chuckle softly, your heart warming at the sight of him. “So, what now? You’re just going to walk me through the streets like this?”
��Of course. You ready to go on the best secret date of your life?”
You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Lead the way, Spiderman.”
The walk isn’t long, just enough to enjoy the quiet of the night and the unexpected adventure of it all. When you finally arrive at the restaurant, you stop dead in your tracks, blinking up at the building in front of you. It’s perched on the edge of a cliff, offering a breathtaking view of the bay below. The warm glow of the restaurant spills out onto the street, and you’re immediately struck by how beautiful its facade is.
You look at Ewan, your surprise written all over your face. “This... this place looks amazing. How did you find it?”
“I have my ways,” he says, grinning. “Come on.”
He leads you up the stairs, and you both remove your masks as you enter, giggling to each other. You’re met with a homey, rustic atmosphere. There’s a dim light from lamps perched on the posts, the soft murmur of conversations, and the smell of fresh food in the air. It’s everything you didn’t realise you needed tonight—calm, peaceful, and more than a little romantic.
“I booked a private table for us,” Ewan says softly, glancing around for the waiter.
The two of you are escorted to a table on the balcony, overlooking the bay. The moon reflects on the water, casting a silver glimmer over the scene. For a moment, you just sit there, both of you silent, taking it all in.
“Ewan, this is incredible,” you say, your voice quiet but full of admiration. “I don’t even know what to say.”
Ewan smiles, reaching across the table to take your hand. “You don’t have to say anything. And I promise this isn’t some ploy to get you to speed up your decision-making. I just… I just wanted you to have a night where you could forget about everything else.”
He leans back slightly, his eyes studying you with that gentle familiarity, like he’s waiting for you to say something more, but he doesn’t rush you.
You glance down at the simple sundress you’ve been wearing all day. You didn’t have time to change when Ewan mentioned the surprise evening out — there was no real thought given to a perfect outfit. And yet, as you sit here now, across from him in the warm candlelight, you don’t feel the usual self-consciousness you might’ve once felt.
You feel more beautiful than you ever have before, because he sees you as the most beautiful person in the room. In any room.
“I don’t know how you do it,” you say, looking at him. “How you make everything feel so…” You trail off, unable to find anything adequate.
His lips curl into a knowing, half-smile. “I feel the same about you.”
And you might not know it yet, but this night is when you choose him.
Under the unprecedented rainfall, later on, you will realise that you never truly had to choose.
It’s always been Ewan, all along.
Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )
Some notes in the margins...
I have no notes. The red mirage is still at play as I type this. Please distract me in the comments 🥲
The next chapter wraps up this trip :) We also might have a bit of Liv's POV...
Then it's back to LA or London, depending on who darling opts to go with 💛
#chemical override#ewan mitchell#ewan mitchell imagine#ewan mitchell x reader#ewan mitchell fanfiction#house of the dragon#hotd#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen imagine#matt smith#matt smith x reader
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Everyone’s correct in saying that now more than ever we need to be building our communities, but it can be difficult to know what that actually *means*, especially in our isolating society. So here’s some straightforward practical advice I’ve learned over the few years I’ve been organizing in my own life.
You do not have to reinvent the wheel.
There are people who have been fighting this fight for decades. You are not starting from scratch. You do not have to do it all by yourself. All you have to do is find your allies and engage.
On the ground resistance movements/aid organizations that have legs under them may not have much of a social media presence. You may have to do some legwork find your place.
Check the local papers if you have one for your area. Sign up for your city government newsletter. Go to the library and ask what events are being hosted. Check Churches! Schools! Small businesses! Ask your local old ladies!!!! They have time on their hands and know what’s going on in their communities.
It’s ok if you don’t know anything. Listen to the people around you, ask questions, be respectful and curious. Just show up!! As you do this, you will learn more about the place you’re in and the people that live there. Those people will guide you, and there’s a non-zero chance that you’ll find a mentor willing to take you under their wing.
The logistics make the movement.
Demonstrations are important and powerful, but they are NOT the be all end all. Not even close.
There are people who’s job it is to take notes, people who host meetings, and people who pick up snacks. Some folks are especially good at getting the word out through tabling and canvasing, others are better at making the pamphlets that get handed out. You could be in charge of carrying heavy boxes of donated food, or you might be better suited preparing a hot meal sitting at the table. Are you able to watch young children? Drive carpool?
All of these tasks and more are essential to maintaining a healthy community group. Don’t be afraid to try new things and experiment to figure out where you can do the most good.
Your stories are your power
One of the most effective tools in your arsenal are your testimonies. When shared with friends they remind us we are not alone in our struggles. When shared with adversaries, they are undeniable proof of our humanity. You can quote facts and statistics all day, but a personal experience will always punch above it’s weight.
Think over your life and explore questions of what your personal stake in the game is. What about your life makes you want to fight. Really dig in deep. This can be uncomfortable. I recommend doing this among friends and being gentle with yourself. You don’t have to have any particularly special reason. This isn’t supposed to be performative. You aren’t trying to get a good grade in leftism, your goal is to identify your self interest. For example, I first got involved with the tenet union because I wanted to go to college in the city but knew I couldn’t afford to live there. I first got involved with planned parenthood because I was scared when Roe v Wade overturned. These are selfish reasons, they have to be for this to work.
With that information, you are prepared to sit with other people and ask them the same thing. If you are open and willing to listen to people’s stories, a casual conversation can lead to strong bonds of friendship. And when you’re friends with someone, you fight for them. This is the core of relational organizing.
There is joy here
Organizing can be difficult. Many things are in life. But from personal experience I can tell you that not only is this work worth it, but it can be *fun*. You can sing and dance and play music and scream and laugh and you’ll do it all together. Hold onto your hope, find your joy where you can, and take the plunge. You’ll be better for it, I promise.
#us elections#us politics#community building#donald trump#kamala harris#hopepunk#if any of my posts are ever to blow up I hope it’s this one#let me know if I should add more tags
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Daddy Can Fix It
handyman!Joel Miller x fem!plus size!Reader
Word count: 5.4K
Summary: All the housewives in your neighborhood rave about the local handyman. And with very good reason.
WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Reader is plus-size, wears dress and lingerie, has hair and body hair, and manicure. Reader's age not mentioned so there is only as much or as little of an age gap as you'd like. TW - fat shaming, food shaming, infidelity (by reader, and it's technically warranted) Pet names (daddy for Joel; sugar, darlin', baby, sweetheart for reader). Housewife/trad-wife vibes. Totally a bored housewife fantasy. Mention of female masturbation. Breast/nipple play, oral (f & m receiving). Fingering. Body worship. Pussy pronouns. Unprotected piv (Joel is snipped, but still.. this is fiction). Light spanking. Rough sex. Creampie. Joel's kind of a big ol' slut for the lonely housewives but is also really useful around the house, so you're definitely getting a good deal 🛠️
Author's note: it's been a hot minute since I've written a one-shot for Joel but it was impossible to resist. It all started because of this pic:
so yeah, Pinterest strikes again. How could I not write a Joel fic based on this? I hope y'all enjoy 💖
JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST
"He can come clean my pipes anytime."
Raucous laughter erupts from the group of ladies huddled near the cupcakes at the latest book club meeting. You listen from the other side of the room where one of the older members is asking you to help her with her Kindle. "I never know how to keep up with all this fancy technology," Marion huffs, adjusting her bifocals.
You're trying to be patient with her, but the conversation across the room is far more intriguing. "It just needs to be charged. Your battery is low," you say three times before Marion can even hear you.
When you've managed to extricate yourself from her, you go up to the ladies and, with a friendly smile, join in. "I couldn't help overhearing."
Some of the women exchange glances, as if deciding to let you in on their convo or not. "Becky's just showing us that she got her kitchen cabinets redone," someone finally pipes up.
"That's not all she got," another starts to crack up.
You look at Becky's phone screen. The before and after shots of her cabinets are nothing short of miraculous. "That's great, Becky! I know you've been asking Gerald for a renovation for awhile," you tell her, hoping she'll be pleased you remember the plight she droned on about for weeks.
"It is great," she says, eyeing you with something like suspicion. "I have a very good handyman."
"He does everything," a nicer girl, Isabelle, chimes in.
"Boy does he," another mutters, hiding her smirk behind her cup of lemonade while the others giggle behind their hands.
Amirah adds, "He varnished my dining room table, power washed my driveway, helped organize my garage," she counts on her fingers. "He's good for little things around the house, and his prices are decent."
"It's like he's just giving it away," Becky says with a smirk and this gets the group laughing again.
"Maybe you can give me his information later," you say politely. "I have a laundry list of things that I need help with now that Wesley's working so much overtime."
The women eye one another, and it's Amirah, the leader of the group, who gives the definite nod. "Of course, sweetie. After the meeting."
"Great!" Smiling, you try to make your way through the group, saliva pooling in your mouth at the tower of red velvet cupcakes on the table spread. You reach for a couple more.
"You've already had three," Becky reminds you, casting a not-so-subtle glance at your body. Her voice sweet as honey but her words carry poison. You know you're not as thin or as glamorous as the other women in this room. You dress the same as them, wear your hair perfectly coiffed and your nails are always manicured, but just because you're not a size zero they deem you unworthy to truly be one of them.
You hold your head high with what little courage you have in the face of Becky's bitchiness, your sinful little cupcake in your hand. "I actually had three. And right now I'm about to make it five," you say sweetly, licking a swipe of cream cheese icing before putting two cupcakes on a china plate and going back to your seat.
That night, Wesley doesn't ask about your book club. He doesn't ask how your day was. He doesn't do much except pour himself a drink when he gets home and sit in front of the TV to watch the news.
You're dressed for bed, a modest robe over a red silk babydoll chemise, a purchase you'd made on a whim in the hopes that you could spice up your sex life with him which, truth be told, has never been more than lukewarm from the start.
"Do you think we should.. go to bed?" you suggest, a naughty tone to your whisper.
"It's early," he grunts, barely giving you a glance.
"I just thought we could spend some time together.." you brush your hand across his knee but he impatiently swipes it away.
"Please, darling, it's a weeknight," he looks at you as if you'd just suggested a threesome with him and the milk man. As he leaves the room he looks back at you, but the hope that rises in your chest is soon shattered when he shakes his head upon seeing your lingerie. "Red is for streetwalkers," he tells you before he goes into his study.
Daddy Can Fix It
You run your finger over the business card Amirah gave you, with all the handy man's information. The card shows his white company van with the logo emblazoned on the side: Joel Miller, Handyman At Your Service so it says in black lettering. There's a phone number and a website as well.
You dial the number, expecting to hear a secretary's voice, but you're greeted with a rich, baritone "Good mornin', thanks for callin' Daddy, what can I fix for ya today?"
Jesus, the voice alone is enough to get you flustered. And Daddy? You weren't expecting that. "Um, hi, I got your number through a friend and I'd like to see if you're available to come mow the lawn today." You peek out your curtains, seeing how the grass has grown taller than you'd like since the last time Wesley has cared enough to cut it.
"You got a lawn mower, sugar?"
"Yes, I do, um.. daddy.."
You hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. "You can call me Joel."
"Joel. Yes, I do. Is there anything else you'll need?" New to the housewife lifestyle, you're still unsure of how to make such appointments. Before you met and married Wesley, you just mowed the lawn yourself, but your husband refuses to hear of his good and proper wife performing a menial act.
"Got any bushes that need trimmin'?"
You aren't sure why that particular sentence makes you feel the blood rush to your face. "I typically keep up with it on my own, when I'm tending to my garden."
Joel gives a small chuckle and it warms your insides. "That ain't no problem. Today around eleven good for ya?"
"Eleven sounds perfect."
"Pricing'll be about fifty, but we can come to an agreement once the job is done."
"Wonderful. I look forward to seeing you." You give him your name and address, hanging up with a sense of accomplishment.
His van appears in your driveway just a minute before eleven. You're impressed with his timeliness. What you don't expect is the gorgeous stranger on your doorstep.
Joel Miller is tall, broad-shouldered, skin bronze from working out in the sun, and his dark brown hair is greying handsomely. If you had to guess his age you'd say fifties. He's in a grey tee shirt and work jeans. What stand out to you the most are his eyes: almost black in color, appraising you as you wait in the doorway, prim and proper housewife, lips parted, eyes wide.
He asks for you by name and you nod, chuckling slightly.
"If you can show me where the lawn mower is I'd be happy to get started," he offers, and the voice you recognize from the phone makes you melt.
You lead him outside to the garage and he takes out the mower, filling it up with some gasoline first. "Is there anything else you need?" you ask politely.
"No ma'am," he looks over his shoulder at you as he pushes the machine to the front yard. "Get inside and get outta this sun. I'll handle it from here," he smiles and it makes you want to giggle like a schoolgirl.
From inside you watch him through the window, deftly maneuvering the lawn mower over, trimming the grass to a neat, short length. It's not yet the hottest hour of the day, but you see him sweating, and when he stops a moment to remove his shirt, you suddenly feel your pulse in the deepest part of your cunt. You wonder what it would be like to lick up every drop of sweat off his chest.
Like a slow motion scene from a movie, you watch the motion of his arms, the rippling of his back as he guides the machine over the lawn. Biting your lip you take in the sight of him, the determination on his face redirecting your thoughts to how he would look above you: hot, sweaty, hard, plunging into your drenched pussy.
How long has it been since you've had a man? Wesley prefers his Saturday nights like clockwork. But you want more. Stupidly thinking marriage was the best way to be treated right and fucked properly, you realized it was not the title but the man, and the particular man you chose was lacking in all area which mattered.
You aren't even sure you love him anymore.
But right now, watching Joel is a treat, and fantasizing about him is a little secret you'll harbor for later in the day when you'll inevitably find yourself using the showerhead attachment.
He finishes the front and back yards, and through the blinds you peep him putting his shirt back on, running a hand through his wavy curls before putting the mower away and coming to your door.
You answer it before he knocks. "Thank you!" is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. "Please come in and we can settle payment."
He cleans the bottoms of his boots on the welcome mat before stepping inside your home and following you to the kitchen. "You have a very nice home, ma'am."
"You're too kind," you're modest about his compliment, but it's thrilling to have someone say something nice about the hard work you put into keeping house. "Would you care for some iced tea? I've just made it fresh."
"I won't say no to that," he chuckles lightly, and you're happy to fill a glass with some of the fresh-brewed tea over ice.
Joel leans back against the sink, pouty pink lips pressed to the glass as he tips it back, opening just enough to take a sweet sip. You watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows, and you wish you could lick a stripe up along his the length of his delicious-looking neck to collect all the sweat that's beaded there.
"Is there anythin' else you need help with today?" he asks, his question carrying a hint of something more.
You blank for a moment, getting lost in the depth of his obsidian eyes, still caught up in your little fantasy. "No.. no, I don't think so." Taking a look around your eyes dart to every corner, taking mental stock of the upstairs rooms as well. "No," you finalize with a smile.
"If you're sure.." he says in that same low tone.
You give him fifty dollars and chat a little while he finishes his drink.
"If there's nothin' else I'll get goin'. Feel free to call me again if you need somethin' done, or looked at. Ain't nothin' I can't fix," he winks at you on your doorstep and you feel a waterfall in your panties.
Isabelle calls later in the day. "So? You had Joel over today, right? How'd it go?"
Dinner is in the oven and there's about an hour before your husband gets home. Phone on speaker, you start peeling potatoes. "It was fine. He did a great job. I'm sure I'll use him again."
Over the line you hear Isabelle sigh. "Isn't his dick beautiful? I swear, just thinking about it gets me so wet!"
You nearly slice a finger off, shocked by her words. Even though you're alone in the house, you pick up the phone and take it off speaker. "What are you talking about?"
"I think it's at least eight inches, and the way it curves at the end," Isabelle sounds like she's moaning.
"Okay, I'm lost. I hired the handyman that you and the others referred. That's who came over today."
"Exactly, dear! Did he fuck you? You don't have to give details of course."
Your brain is put on pause as only silence fills your throat.
"Oh dear," Isabelle continues. "You didn't know?"
"Know what?"
She sighs, possibly settling herself on her chaise longue out by her pool she's so proud of. "Joel Miller is a handyman, yes. But we also pay him a little extra for other services."
"Oh." You sink onto the living room settee, the closest thing to you.
"Mm-hmm. Mind you, it's not an all-the-time thing. But we've all had him. It's just something fun. You get some help around the house with your honey-do list, and then a good fucking after. Or whatever pleases you."
"And you.. you've.. slept with him?"
"I wouldn't call it sleeping, honey, but yeah I've been with him. It's all for fun. Nobody really takes it seriously."
"And everyone else at the book club?"
"Pretty much. Do you really think any of our husbands could compare to that god of a man Joel Miller?"
No, no you doubt any man could hold up to the stud who'd just helped you with the lawn.
He's on your mind constantly, but as tightly as Wesley keeps his wallet to himself, you can't validate having Joel's help every day. You make the choice to wait until the following week.
And what a long wait it is. Jealously you wonder whose house he's going to. Jackie down the street? Bitchy Becky with her face like a rat, no tits and no ass?
You consider calling Isabelle to beg for the details (which she'll probably give you without a fuss anyway). But a sordid part of you wants to find out for yourself. You already know he's well-endowed. He's at least twice as big as Wesley, who wouldn't know what to do with a big cock if he was blessed with one overnight.
A week to the day since he made his last visit, Joel comes back to replace the batteries in your smoke alarms. It's a job you've done yourself, perching on a stepladder, but it'll be more fun to have Daddy fix it.
The phone call to schedule him was practically foreplay. That smooth-as-chocolate voice had your panties drenched. When he's finally here, inside your home, inside your needy little cunt.
Your eyes rove over his form as he uses your stepladder, only needing the first rung. It doesn't stop you from staying right there with him, holding it steady on the other side. You hear his little grunts as he gets to work, watch his thick, strong fingers handle the batteries with a delicacy you can imagine he uses in other things.
Licking your lips, you realize you're face-to-face with the faded blue denim crotch of his jeans, those Levis hugging him tight in all the right places.
"I'm 'bout done here," he says, putting the smoke detector back in its place. "Anythin' else you need help with, lil' darlin'?"
Your hand presses to the bulge in his jeans, and you're delighted when you feel him twitch in response. "As a matter of fact, I do need your help with something else.."
"That right?" he murmurs, pressing your hand against him, letting you feel him grow hard under his palm. "Been waitin' to see if you'd ask.."
He steps down, keeps his dark eyes on you. "Pretty lil' thing like yourself don't get enough attention, huh?" he whispers, brushing his thumb across your cheek.
Softly you sigh, unashamed at how needy you've been for a simple touch. "No.. but I'd like you to help with that."
"That's what I'm here for, darlin'," he smiles, his thumb tracing your soft plump lips. "What do you want me to do, baby?"
"Everything," you answer quickly. "I'm not.. really sure what the usual is.."
His smile is kind as his hand traces down your neck, leaving goosebumps to rise on your skin. "You want me to fuck ya, give ya somethin' nobody else is doin'.. that it?" He places your hand back on his bulge and you respond by rubbing him, your own cunt pulsing around nothing in excited expectation.
"Yes.. I need to get fucked," you agree emphatically, pulling him into your bedroom.
Now he's here, in your room, and you think you're dreaming. He's letting you take the lead, completely at your service. All the women in your book club were probably more open with their desires, knowing immediately what they wanted and how to get it. All the fantasies about Joel you've created and harbored in the deepest part of your heart are now as impalpable as gossamer.
"You tell me what you want, honey," he drawls in that molasses-rich voice of his. His hands gently trace your waist, smoothing down your dress as he moves towards your curvaceous hips. "God damn, I bet you look fuckin' gorgeous outta this dress. Wanna show me?"
Biting your lip, you nod, tugging off your apron and dropping it to the floor. Not gonna be a damn housewife while he's with me..
A tiny smirk on your face, you gently push Joel back onto your bed, and he rights himself with an equally mischievous smile as he watches you. He palms his hard cock through his jeans as you do a little striptease, tantalizing him as you slip your prim flower-print dress off your shoulders.
"There we go, baby," he growls as the dress falls down to your hips, your scarlet satin bra revealed, your breasts practically spilling over the cups, making Joel's mouth water. You turn around for his help in unzipping the bottom part of your dress, finally feeling free as it falls away, pooling at your feet.
Joel lets out a wolf whistle as he takes in the sight of you in your ruby undergarments, the same you'd tried to seduce your husband in. Now they're finally being put to good use. "Red's your color, gorgeous," he mutters, his hands on your hips, mapping out your generous curves and the soft rolls of your belly.
You've almost forgotten what it was like, this power to entrance a man and make him see you as the only woman in the world. Marriage to an uncaring and unfeeling idiot had left you cut off from your sexuality. Now you're reclaiming it.
Joel's hands travel back up to your waist, fingers deftly unclasping your bra. He unwraps you like you're the goddamn Christmas gift he's been begging for for months. His tongue wets his lips as your plump breasts are revealed. With one hand on your lower back, the other palms your tit with a rough hand. Your nipple rises to his touch and he dips down to swirl his tongue around it, gently coaxing it further with his teeth. Your head falls back as the sensation zings straight to your cunt. "Fuck, Joel.."
He smiles against the softness of your skin. "Sensitive here, huh? Bet these ain't been properly played with in awhile. Gonna change that right now." And with that he gives another hard suck, his dick already leaking when he hears your needy moan. He treats the other breast with the same attention. You take one of his hands and lead it to the drenched front side of your panties, but he stops you.
"Not yet, baby. Want you to see yourself before I fuckin' ruin ya."
You lay on your side on the bed as you watch Joel undress. It's a sight you won't soon forget: skin tan from working outdoors, with a smattering of chest hair that's also showing some grey, chiseled arms, and a happy trail that leads from his navel to the front of his boxers, which are tented. He wears a little smirk as he pulls them off and your reaction is priceless.
Joel is fucking hung.
You've taken big cocks before, but his is formed of pure fantasy, like a dildo from your favorite sex shop. Isabelle wasn't exaggerating about his size. And his cock is so beautiful you want to cry. Watching as he gives it a couple strokes, all eight thick uncut inches, the rosy pink tip glistens with precum, the veins and ridges prominent. Even the curve Isabelle mentioned is sexy, bound to hit all the right places inside you. His balls, rounded and heavy, move with his motions.
Thank God I did my yoga this week.
You beckon him to you, pulling the boxers away completely and dipping your head to taste him. Your tongue laves across the salty slit of his tip, and you relish the hitch of his breath. He's not here for you to please him, but it gets you wet wrapping your lips around his cock, suctioning your mouth and stroking upward from his base. When you start to massage his balls he stops you. "Don't wanna shoot too soon, baby," he says breathlessly.
He pulls you up off the bed and into a kiss, his hands playing along the edges of your panties as his tongue tastes yours. His cock, still wet from your mouth, nudges against your soft belly. "You deserve to feel good," he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his tongue tracing the outline. At last he pulls your panties down, a rumble in his throat when he sees the sweet glaze between your thighs, glistening in your triangle of hair.
"Sit on my lap, baby. With your back to me," he orders in a soft growl.
His flesh is warm beneath yours, and god it feels good just to be touched again, to feel desired by someone. You haven't known it in so long. He sits back against the headboard, moving the pillows on either side. His arm instinctively wraps around your waist as he leaves soft, feathery kisses across your shoulder.
"So soft," he murmurs. "C'mon, baby, look at yourself," he nods to the mirror in front of you.
When you catch your reflection you're exhilarated at the sight: you, naked, with Joel behind you, kissing your neck, fondling your tits, thumb brushing over them and lightly pinching them to hardened peaks. "Spread your legs for me, baby," he whispers, getting started by brushing his hand from your knee to your petal-soft inner thigh.
It's lascivious, watching all this unfurl before you in the mirror. You're spread open, on full display. Your pussy is gushing over with need, and you trace your folds with your fingers.
Behind you, Joel's cock twitches, and he rubs himself lightly against your back. "Lemme do that.." he whispers, gently pulling your hand away, bringing your fingers to his mouth and sucking your juice off them. "So sweet," he murmurs, and your belly is hot with lust.
His touch is soft and careful at first, exploring you and figuring out what you like, what you need. It feels like he's memorizing every inch of you. His thick fingers glide over your lips, circling, teasing you so you'll beg him for more.
"Joel," you whine, lifting yourself to him, trying to get his hand to position itself where you need it most. But he evades you, a dark chuckle emanating from deep in his throat. "You're payin' me to do a job and I wanna do it right. Not fair to rush me."
Your eyes close in frustration. "Joel, please.."
"Nuh-uh. Daddy."
"Fuck," you whimper. "Please, daddy."
"That's more like it." His touch finds your clit, throbbing and needy, and you nearly see stars at the feeling. He presses once again before sliding two fingers into your warm, welcoming cunt. "Christ, she's really suckin' me in there," he grunts, shifting behind you as his dick becomes nearly impossible to ignore.
"Yes," you moan at the sweet intrusion, the easy glide of his fingers in your drenched pussy. "Just like that."
"So fuckin' tight," he says through gritted teeth. And Jesus, his fingers are thick, the calloused thumb swiping over your clit, making you twitch and your hips arch up for more. "She's pulsin' around me," he mutters, his rich voice in your ear, lips brushing against your lobe. His fingers glide in, stretching you as you coat him.
"Ah, she's gettin' all creamy for me," he coos as he pulls them out a moment, licking off one finger and giving the other to you. You taste yourself, salty and sweet, humming in appreciation as you release his digit from your mouth with a pop.
He returns to his work, his hand pistoning against your folds, the squishy sounds of your soaked cunt beautifully obscene to your ears. Your voice trembles as you cry out, a sweet vibrato that resounds throughout the room as Joel's fingers curl in on your g-spot. He adds a bit more pressure to your clit as he tries to get you there. Moaning, he nuzzles his face into your neck.
It feels like you break open under his touch, hips arching up, swallowing his delving fingers deeper inside you as you spasm uncontrollably around him, a string of curses falling from your lips.
You barely have time to recover before he's on you again, moving in front of you as you lay against the pillows, like Venus in a Titian painting. His hands lift your thighs, softly kneading their thickness as he plants kisses on either side, trailing up to your cunt, your scent all around him.
"My husband never goes down on me," you whisper, heart racing as quick as a hummingbird's wings.
"Ain't he a waste of fuckin' space," Joel grunts, a wicked gleam in his eye as he dives in, flattening his tongue to lick a stripe upwards to your needy, throbbing clit. Your hands grab at his hair, pushing him forward as his groan is muffled by your sweet, saturated pussy.
"God.. damn!" you gasp at the delicious feeling of his tongue on you, lapping up every drop, tracing your lips and tickling your clit. He's relentless in his pursuit of making you come, switching up the tempo, adding a finger and then another, praising you when you cry out again. "Squeezin' so hard on me.. she's just about ready, ain't she?" Before he finally suctions his lips around your puffy clit and sucks, humming around it.
It's as if your soul leaves your body for a precious few moments, muttering monosyllables in sweet relief. You've never come so hard before, ever. And when you look up at Joel you wish you could worship him.
"Like the sweetest tea I ever drank," he says, licking his lips.
"Fuck me, Joel," you whine, still not fully come down from your climax.
"C'mere," he growls, putting you on all fours so you're facing the mirror again. You look at your reflection: hair mussed, eyes shining bright, skin glowing from your orgasm. Joel lines himself up behind you, smiling as you watch yourself. "Got every right to look at yourself, darlin'.. someone as fuckin' hot as you, with these hips, this ass?" He grabs one cheek and gives it a slap. You gasp, jolting forward, then wiggle your ass at him, wanting more.
"You a naughty lil' thing," Joel smirks, teasing your folds with his tip. "Wanna get this pretty lil' pussy ruined?"
"Yes, daddy," you moan, pushing back on him.
"Fuck me, I like the way you say that." He bites his lip as he continues teasing you. "Once I fuck you, you'll never let that limp dick husband of yours touch you ever again, I promise you that."
Your reply is cut off when you feel him nudge inside, your walls breached by his thick cock. "Oh god... yes!" you exclaim, clutching the bedsheets. "Fuck.. your cock is so huge.." You can feel the tip just kissing your cervix.
"Yeah, you like it? Like gettin' fucked by this big cock? Gettin' stretched out? Gonna leave a big ol' gapin' hole for your husband to come home to."
He bottoms out, grabbing your ass cheeks with both big hands, watching the smoothness of your skin as your cunt clenches onto him. "God damn what a pretty sight.. you oughta see this. Pussy's barely fittin' me as it is. Only tighter thing would be your little ass.." and he pulls out all the way to slam back in, glorying in the way you scream his name.
"There she goes, gotta get 'er used to me," he grunts, eyes on your swollen pussy lips wrapping his cock in a vise with each steady thrust. "Jesus, sweetheart. So tight I gotta try not to blow my load."
The sound of his name on your lips, the way your body reacts to him, is like gasoline on an already raging fire. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "Say my name, baby. I wanna hear it." He quickens the pace, pressing deeper inside you.
"Daddy! Daddy!" you shout in time with each delicious snap of his hips. "My god, you're so fucking deep.." you moan.
"That's it, take all of me. You like the way I fill you?"
"Yes daddy!" Your fingers clutch the sheets as the bed rocks with your movements. "So full of you.."
He presses a hand to your abdomen. "Feel me there, baby? All up in your guts. No one else is ever gonna fill you the way I do. No one's ever gonna come close. This needy lil' cunt's gonna be cryin' for me every day until I come back and give her what she needs."
His dirty talk is getting you wetter, your juices running down between your thighs, making his cock all sloppy, the sound of it making you feral for more. "Fuck me, Joel.. fuck me fuck me fuckmefuckmefuckmefuckmefuckme.." you mumble, face down, ass up, slack jawed as you drool on the sheets.
He speeds up, hips slamming against yours, balls thwacking under you. "Yeah? Want me to fill ya up, blow all this fuckin' load inside ya? Got snipped years ago, baby, 's up to you."
"Fill me up, make me dirty and messy," you groan.
"You want daddy to give you everything he's got, baby?" he repeats. "You want me to fill you til you're all messy and drippin' with me?"
"Yes.. yes please," you're barely able to get out.
"Fuck," he growls, grabbing hold of your hips as he pounds into you ferociously. Once he has control he places one hand on your back, keeping you pressed down as he angles himself to hit that delicious little spot inside and he knows he's hit it when you cry out, cursing and shivering, clamping down on him like a damn vise right before he lets go, streaming jet after jet of his hot come inside you. There's so much it's already leaking out while he's still inside you.
The rest of the week you make a list of things for Joel to do next time: perhaps check out what's going on with the washing machine, or maybe he could regrout your bathroom, or help you rearrange your living room furniture right before he rearranges your guts again.
Even Wesley notices the bright and cheery mood you're in, and how attractive you've become since taking on some of the home improvements. That weekend he does you a huge favor, and sits back in his armchair as he waits for you to discover it.
"Wesley? What were you doing in the garage for so long? I heard a lot of noise," you tell him, arms crossed, a look of suspicion on your face.
He looks pleased with himself. "Well honey, you've been so agreeable these past few days that I thought I'd cross off some little projects on your to-do list."
"Like what?" you ask slowly.
He lists off everything you've had planned for Joel to do in the coming weeks. Small things, of course, but Wesley has done all of them, leaving you with nothing for daddy to fix.
"I thought you'd be happy," he says, his face cloudy now that you're unhappy again.
"Happy? Not quite." You leave a moment and return with a hammer, heading towards your husband.
He cowers, ducking as you completely pass him by and swing the hammer into the drywall of the living room wall, over and over again. When you've let your anger out and Wesley is rightfully afraid of your next move, you simply smile sweetly, holding the hammer pressed to your apron with your well-manicured hands. "Looks like I'll have to call the handyman after all!"
dividers by @thecutestgrotto 👑
tagging those who showed interest when this baby was still just a wip: @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @604to647 @inept-the-magnificent @clawdeewritesfanfic @manuymesut @bitccchmood @everybodylovedcontractors
#pedro pascal#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x plus sized reader#joel miller fanfic#joel miller smut#joel miller handyman#joel miller fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#pedro boys#pedro pascal character smut#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal character headcanons#pedro pascal characters fanfiction#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal cinematic universe#joel miller au#joel miller tlou#baroness von glitter
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Biased - Sylus x Innocent Fem Reader (Under My Care Pt. 2)
Request: Can we have a part 2 where Innocent MC accidentally interrupting a meeting because she was exited about something and really wanted to tell Sylus? ( It can be simply as she got him a special crow plush or she won something but Sylus and the twins forgot to tell her about the meeting?)
A/N: some have been requesting a pt. 2 of Under My Care and one of you made a specific request about it. Just a lil fluff I decided to post for those who are looking for more Sylus fluff. I hope that this fic brightens up your day 🥰
Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest and credit goes to the image's respective owners.
Warnings: fluff, slightly aggressive Sylus (not towards you, his men lmao), possessive and protective Slyus (not in a bad way)
After months of dating Sylus, he finally brought you to his penthouse at the N109 zone. Ever since the night when some of Sylus’ business partners barged into your dinner date, Sylus has shared more secrets of himself with you. But to Sylus’ surprise, you weren’t scared of him. You weren’t scared at the fact that he was the leader of a notorious bad group of people, the number one most wanted person in the N109 zone, the man who everyone practically feared.
Because to you, he’s just Sylus. He’s your first boyfriend and the first ever person to accept you for who you are. To not push your boundaries and be willing to do whatever it is that you enjoy. Knowing that you didn’t care about his title, money, or status made Sylus love you even more.
He would occasionally take you to his penthouse to stay over the weekend before bringing you back to Linkon, where you worked at a local bakery. He would also send you gifts and souvenirs whenever he was travelling. No matter where he was, or what time it was, Sylus would always be there whenever you needed him.
You suddenly got your period and want to cuddle with him? During your phone call, Sylus had teleported himself outside of your room. You wanted to visit a certain country? Sylus would immediately prepare his private jet and take you there, buying you all the things that your eyes lingered on. You want to try new hobbies? Sylus would pay for your lessons. All he asked is for you to stay by him which you had always done since the beginning.
This week, you had the whole week off and decided to stay with Sylus for the whole week which Sylus would tease about is; saying it was practice for when you two get married and settle down together. Despite your good baking and cooking skills, Sylus would still do most of the cooking. As for housework, you tried to be sneaky and do it while Sylus was in a meeting or something but Sylus would always know. He had Mephisto keep an eye on you and when he saw the chance, Sylus would immediately teleport behind you, wrapping his large hands around your waist, having a playful debate before finally coming to a middle ground and doing the housework together.
Today, however, you were determined to impress Sylus. You told Sylus that you wanted to head into town for a moment just to go to the grocery shop. But when you didn’t see him anywhere, you thought that this was the perfect chance to actually surprise him. But first, you tried to find Mephisto because you knew that even if you couldn’t find Sylus, he would always remind you to either text him or at least bring Mephisto with you.
Once you found Mephisto, you invited the mechanical bird who has taken a liking in you and texted Sylus before heading to the nearby grocery shop. You walked to the grocery store with Mephisto sitting on your shoulder, accompanying you as you stroll through the aisle, putting fresh produce, several baking materials, and snacks in your shopping cart.
After paying for the groceries with Sylus’ card; because the man hid your wallet whenever you came to visit him and would always put one of his cards in your wallet. You and Mephisto walked back to the penthouse where you started to prepare a feast for Sylus and the twins, Luke and Kieran.
Aside from Mephisto, you also bonded with the twins, Luke and Kieran, very well. They would often accompany you if Sylus were to have a sudden meeting or if you were bored but the twins were free and it ended up with the three of you playing kitty cards.
But again, today, it was just you and Mephisto. Even though the mechanical bird couldn’t talk, you kept on talking with it and even asked him to help take some ingredients for you as you cooked while you wait for your baked goods in the oven.
You decided to make some of Sylus’ favourite food which were braised beef with a side dish of sauteed vegetables along with some baked good which were brownies and chocolate chip cookies.
Once both the food you cooked and baked goods were done, you decided to plate them neatly and decided to search for Sylus in the penthouse because you know that when Sylus was out, he would always text you but because he didn’t, you were certain he was still in the penthouse.
After sometime, you finally heard Sylus’ voice, excitement surged through you as you barged into the room without thinking, expressing your happiness for making Sylus’ favourite food and some sweet treats for him and the twins.
“Sy, Luke, Kieran, I made lunch and some sweet and…” you exclaimed but didn’t even get to finish as you saw the situation in the room
Sylus was sitting in his chair with Luke and Kieran standing to either side of him, the entire room was filled with men who all wore black just like Luke and Kieran were. They didn’t looked like bodyguards, some were older than others, and you could tell that they were in an important meeting which reminded you of the time where Sylus’ business partner first barged in during your dinner date.
As if Sylus was able to read your mind without his aether core, Sylus immediately called out to you before anyone else could speak of something. “Hi sweetie, c’mere. Show me what you made for me and the twins, hmm?”
Sylus could sense your uncertainty with being watched by everyone in the room whom you didn’t know and honestly it was getting on his nerves because he could see how some of the men were eyeing you like you were a sweet treat.
“If any of you eye her or think about her in any way that displeases me, I’ll have to have an additional talk with you all. Personally” Sylus threatened as he motioned you to come closer to him. “It’s okay sweetie, come here”
You then started to walk cautiously towards Sylus who welcomed you with open arms and helped you sit on his lap as you held the lunch you made for him and the twins. “It’s okay sweetie, you weren’t disturbing anything too serious, hmm” Sylus gently held your chin between his fingers, rubbing it lovingly
You tried your best to seem like you’re okay and nodded towards Sylus who still wasn’t convinced but he didn’t want to push you too far. “Okay, sweetie. Let me wrap up this meeting real quick for you, yeah?”
Sylus kissed the top of your head before letting you lean on his broad chest as he quickly wrapped up the meeting which has gone for over half of the day. By the end of the meeting, Sylus managed to scare everyone in the room except the twins and you who immediately scurried out of the meeting room, not even daring to see Sylus’ eyes or look at you at all.
By the time everyone left, it was just you, Sylus, and the twins in the room. “So, what did you make for us, sweetie?”
Before you could show Sylus, the twins spoke up, apologising for not remembering to tell me that Sylus had a meeting. “We’re sorry boss and miss. We forgot to tell you about the meeting”
You looked at the twins and back at Sylus, worried that the twins were going to get scolded for forgetting but to your surprise, Sylus seemed unfazed and he dismissed the twins’ apology. “It happens. We were all busy. You both were with me during the meeting. I’m not mad that you both forgot or that (y/n) here suddenly came in. I’m more pissed that those fuckers had the audacity to look at her the way they did just now”
“Y-you’re not angry I, I suddenly came into your meeting?” you asked quietly and Sylus looked at you with a smirk, his eyes seemed to be hypnotised by the sight of you looking ever so small in his lap
“How could I ever be angry at you, sweetie? In fact, I much rather you interrupt any boring meeting I have and even accompany me if you’d like. I always love you being close to me and even sit on my lap like this” Sylus smirked, kissing the side of your temple
“You’re so biased, sy. What would your business partners or other men think?” you giggled as Sylus smiled and littered your face with kisses
“Let them see that I’m biased because nothing else matters” Sylus smiled, hugging you closer
“Alright miss, why don’t you just hand us our portion of food you prepared so we can leave the two of you alone” Luke stated making everyone in the room laugh
A/N: if you have any specific requests for Sylus do send me a request or message so I can refer back easily. Thank you for reading and have a great day :) xoxo peanutpinet
#lads#lads sylus#love and deep space#sylus#lads x reader#lads x you#lads scenarios#lads imagine#lads fan#sylus love and deepspace#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#sylus x reader#lads fluff#sylus x y/n#sylus imagine#sylus x mc#sylus x you#lnds sylus#l&ds sylus#love and deepspace sylus#sylus fluff
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My contribution: Not only that, but get to know your neighbors and find any common ground you can. Support the people around you.
Humanity's greatest strength in my opinion is our ability to survive crises when we stand together. Not just literally in front of a government building, but support each other emotionally and materially in any way we can.
The people of Poland for example would not have made it through WWII if they didn't work together to survive day to day.
Whether you're anarchist, socialist, social democrat, communist, or just think republicans are nuts who can't be trusted with the country/wish you could be left the fuck alone, our TOP priority is surviving, so find any common ground as you can with your neighbors. A lot of union workers are actually conservative leaning construction workers, for example. Talk with them about advocating for themselves as union workers, and find friends and allies wherever you can.
As for me, I'm starting with my irl friend group. We're fortunately already close and meet up often, so I'm letting them know I am happy to help them with whatever I can. My older sibling will likely be going back to places they used to be a regular to and rebuild a group of interpersonal connections with which to survive, and we can connect our friend groups together to maximize support.
A proper crisis mode involves generosity and helping others as much as we can manage. Like, don't hurt yourself obviously, but taking care of one another makes us stronger over 99% of the time. A good group will also take care of you as much as possible anyway.
Now I know a lot of people on this site are disabled, so I will once again say that you only do what is possible for you, but if at all possible, try and improve your health. Going into a mini-crisis mode involves changes in lifestyle, and one thing is that many of us simply will not be able to afford poor health. I will see what I can do to put some much-needed physical activity into my day and eat nutritious meals so that my health is as good as it reasonably can be.
And finally, do allow yourself to mourn the future you hoped for, but taking action once it's a feasible option for you is important. My heart goes out to everyone this week, and I hope we'll be able to pull ourselves together enough to push against fascism.
no matter the outcome of this election: organize, build local community, build strength in masses. elections aren't the only time politics happen, it also happens on the streets, in the community and by mutually supporting each other.
the way forward is together. we build power from the ground up. in the US and everywhere else in the world.
a better world is possible and we can start building it now, by ourselves. anarchism starts in the now.
hack the planet
#important#also I heard that Trump managed to get the POPULAR VOTE because the AMISH were pissed at Biden#for making them do shit they didn't believe in when previously they werent required to do#I DID NOT expect the Amish.
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Vanha Kauppahalli date: en full, a 2 minute 50 second masterpiece...
Primetime Panthers | 11.6.24 (x)
#aleksander barkov#matthew tkachuk#florida panthers#2425#the global series is a gift#“alright talk to me what do we got?” with the camera following behind them makes it seems like theyre spies doing reconnaissance#the start to a thriller where they got sent to finland stake out for intelligence#maffhew not even waiting for sasha to answer before hes asks about chocolate#“the purple one you always bring” maffhew has been charmed by sashas leaving choco in stalls as gifts when he comes back from finland huh#you can tell he says that with depravity of a man who finally realises he doesnt need to rely on his supplier he can get it himself now#“uh oh [laughs] okay... what is this?” maffhew was not prepared for all the food to already be ready for him he just hopped off a plane and#expected to have to wait more and did not and absolutely does not trust the situation in the same way you get romantic candlelit-dinnered#and youre like alright whats all this then whats your angle what are you doing#“this is salmon and rye bread 😄” “(with the eagerness to prove hes smart and engaged) so is that 👉” “(charmed) and so is that 🫱”#“ill try your favourite first” GURL RELAX OKAY SETTLE DOWN YOURE IN A NEW COUNTRY JUST CHILL MAN#“salmon and rye bread—thats the famous one 🤓” [sasha nodding along because he has to reassure maffhew but also hes in the middle of eating]#maffhew choosing the most inopportune time and you can TELL sasha is like [swallows quickly] because he wants to answer but also BIG BITE#“herring” “herrin' 🤠?” “eating all this her-RING” no notes#“is this just another salmon on rye bread” he says with hope because he likes salmon but also disappointment (he wants to try more foods)#“different salmon? smoked?” the amount of questions hes askijg because hes so terribly engaged he wants to know and sashas like [shrug]#he has to get an A+ in experiencing finland which is normal to want and possible to achieve#“i still love your country though” and sasha explodes into the mirthful grin ive seen in my life like he just won the damn jackpot#he speaks at 100 mph like please take a deep breath sweetheart youre excitement is papable but PLEASE#THE WAY HE GETS SO UNSURE WHEN HE MENTIONS BARKY HATES THAT FOOD WHEN HE LIKED IT SO MUCH#MAFFHEW YOU CAN GET A PASSING GRADE IN EXPERIENCING FINLAND IF YOU STICK TO YOUR GUNS I PROMISE#SASHA HELP A GUY OUT HERE MAN THROW HIM A BONE#SASHA ONLY LAUGHS AS MAFFHEW THROWS HIMSELF INTO A TIZZY OVER THIS YOU ARE SOOOOOO#the chuckle when sasha mentions he had runebergin torttu in school... id like to know what was funny there#we call out sasha for being too lovesick and laughing at all of maffhews “jokes” BUT HES JUST AS BAD???#“what the hell do i do with this thing?” MAFFHEW HAVE YOU NEVER SEEN MERENGUE IN YOUR LIFE???
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Peonies ; part four
Pairing: Theo Nott x Fem!Reader
Summary: Mattheo is in an awful mood after the party while Theo takes reader to the peony field.
Word Count: 4772
Warnings: Unrequited love & Mattheo and Theo get into it. Reader overthinks for a little bit. Mentions of drugging? One mention of Y/n. Let me know if there’s more!
A/N 💌 I can't tell you how nervous I am to post this, I feel like it's not my best work. But regardless, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. As usual thank you to @moonpascal for reading, helping me with ideas, and just providing support and comfort. I love you endlessly!
SERIES MASTERLIST <3
“Did something happen last night between you and Mattheo?” Pansy asks, throwing the door open with an expectant look. Despite your low mood, you can’t help but crack a tiny smile at the sight of her—hair a tousled mess, mascara smudged beneath her eyes. She’s the perfect picture of someone who had way too much fun last night.
“Is there any particular reason you’re asking?” You reply cautiously, eyes following her as she saunters over and slips into bed beside you. She gives the blanket a hard tug, leaving you to huff in irritation when she claims more than her fair share.
“Because I heard him and Veronica fighting. I didn’t catch much, but I did hear your name.” Pansy looks you over, taking in your rumpled clothes and tired eyes. You’re not in much better shape than she is, and she can't tell if it’s the lingering effects of last night’s drinks or the aftermath of whatever happened with Mattheo.
“Merlin,” you sigh, rolling your eyes and sinking deeper into the warmth of your bed. You haven’t moved since Theo left about twenty minutes ago, and you’re not sure if you’ll find the energy to do so anytime soon. Honestly, the idea of staying curled up here is more tempting than you'd like to admit. “We got into it again last night.”
“Again?” Pansy raises an eyebrow, shifting to face you.
“Apparently, he does care.” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm and frustration.
“He told you that?” Pansy shifts so quickly it’s as if you’ve shocked her. Both of you know very well that Mattheo isn’t the type to open up about what he’s feeling. Years of watching him around his parents taught you why—with how many times you had seen them scold him for even a flicker of emotion, it was no wonder he kept everything locked up.
You sigh, staring up at the ceiling, “He said he wanted me to admit I have feelings for him too.” Pansy's eyes widen, her mouth falling open as she stares at you in disbelief.
“Feeling for him too?” She echoes, and you finally turn to meet her eyes with a weak nod. Your best friend sits there for a moment, studying your face carefully before choosing her next words. She knows she has a nasty habit of saying the first thing on her mind without considering that it might not be what you need to hear.
Pansy sits up, grabbing the pillow she was using and hugging it to her chest as she stares at you impatiently. She’s waiting to hear if you’ve finally told the boy you’ve been head over heels for, for years, that you like him too. “Well? Did you?”
“I couldn’t do it.”
“Please, tell me it’s for the reason I’m thinking.” She all but begs, her eyes wide with hope.
You let out a weary sigh. “I don’t know when I stopped having feelings for him, Pans. I didn’t even realize I’d lost them until he asked me to tell him I felt the same, and there was just...”
“Just..?” Pansy prompts gently.
A pause hangs between you as you search for the right words.
You hardly slept last night; your mind raced with thoughts of the past few months, trying to pinpoint when and how your feelings faded so quietly. You had liked Mattheo for so long, even convinced yourself that maybe you even loved him. But how could you truly love someone who was so closed off? Sure, he turned to you when he was struggling, but that didn’t mean he ever shared what he was feeling. He liked your presence and relied on you to be there whenever he needed support, but he never trusted you enough to truly let you in.
Not in the way you wanted, at least.
If he wasn’t comfortable with his own emotions, there was no way he would be able to handle yours. Maybe that was the heart of it—the realization that he would never fully open up to you, and that had kept you from falling in love with him. And maybe that was the best thing that could have happened, no matter how painful or uncomfortable it was to come to terms with at the beginning.
Then there was Theo. Who had promised to help you get over Mattheo, and from that moment on, he was there for you without hesitation. He held your hand whenever you needed it, and honestly, you had begun to lean on him a bit too much—being close to him had become your favorite feeling. He never made it feel like supporting you was a chore; instead, he made it seem like something he had always longed to do.
In truth, everything had changed for you. Spending time with Theo was no longer just a way to distract yourself from Mattheo; it became where you wanted to be. Being around him made you feel safe and accepted in a way you hadn’t realized you craved.
And that was absolutely terrifying.
You sit up abruptly, fully facing Pansy, “When you said that you thought Theo would give me everything if I let him, did you mean that?”
“Babes,” she begins, sending you a soft smile. “I’ve always thought you would be good for Mattheo. You bring something out in him; he’s happiest when he’s around you. Veronica seemed to make him happy at first—” she adds with a snort—“but nowhere near the level you do.”
“But with Theo…” Pansy trails off. “I’ve never seen you so happy—and not the kind of happy you were with Mattheo. It’s not the relief of him not having a one-night stand or flirting with you a bit bolder at a party. It’s genuine happiness; you’re truly yourself. Theo brings out a different side of you, and you do that for him, too.”
Glancing over at the vase of red peonies, battling the tightness in your throat and the sting in your eyes. You decide you’d rather not spend the day in bed.
.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.
Since last night, Theo has been struggling to push away the thought that maybe the idea of you having feelings for him isn’t so far-fetched. Especially after you’d implied that the two of you were together to the girl who’d tried to flirt with him. The way you’d intertwined your fingers with his, staking a silent claim that he was off-limits, had left him reeling. There was no way you’d be so possessive if you didn’t feel the same. At least, that’s what he’d been telling himself all morning.
And then there was the way you hadn’t been able to answer Mattheo about your feelings. Theo’s whole heart had been in his throat as he waited for you to tell Mattheo that you did have feelings for him, that you’d had them for years. But you hadn’t answered.
In a way, though, you had, hadn’t you? You’d pushed past Mattheo without a word and gone straight to him.
“Are you coming with us to Hogsmeade or not?” Enzo nudges Theo, pulling him out of his thoughts. The boys had all planned to go to Hogsmeade together this weekend, a plan set firmly in stone since last weekend. But when Theo saw you this morning, he couldn’t hold back. On impulse, he asked if you wanted to spend some time together, suggesting—almost shyly—that he could finally show you where he’d been getting the peonies.
“No, I’ve got plans.” Theo shrugs, and Draco sends him an irritated look from the opposite couch.
“We made plans.” Draco huffs, clearly agitated with the change. He always hated it when the boys ditched at the last second.
“Something came up.” Theo sighs, hoping that he’ll let it go quickly. He’s well aware that Mattheo should be coming down the stairs at any second. Enzo had told them that he was taking forever to get ready, probably hungover from last night.
“You mean your girl.” Blaise corrects, and Draco looks disgusted. His head swings back to look at Theo.
“You’re ditching us for her? Mate, that’s pathetic.” Draco scoffs. “She isn’t even your girlfriend.”
“She’s pretty damn close.” Blaise points out, and Theo tries his best to ignore the feeling that jolts through him when he thinks of you as his girlfriend.
He doesn’t have a chance to say anything—not that he would have—before Mattheo walks over to join the group. He claps a hand on Draco’s shoulder, only for Draco to shrug him off irritably. “C’mon,” Mattheo says, his tone leaving no room for argument.
As the others rise, stretching and adjusting their robes, Theo remains seated, gaze fixed on the fireplace in front of him. Mattheo pauses, giving him a puzzled look, one brow lifting in question. “You’re not coming?”
“No.” Theo answers curtly, clearly uninterested in extending the conversation. The truth is, he hasn't spoken to Mattheo in quite a while, and when they do, it’s nothing but tension—a quiet frustration simmering beneath each exchange.
Mattheo’s curiosity sharpens. “Why not?”
“He’s got plans with his girl,” Draco interjects with a roll of his eyes, impatience seeping into his voice. “Now, can we go? We’ve waited long enough for you as it is.”
“Wait. Hold on,” Mattheo turns to face him fully, and Draco huffs when he realizes they’re not going to be leaving any time soon. “Your girl?”
“You know what he means.” Blaise interjects calmly, his eyes shifting to Mattheo as he watches tension coil through his stance.
Mattheo gives a casual shrug, though his jaw tightens. “No, Blaise, I really don’t.”
Theo huffs, rolling his eyes as he stands, making to push past. “Why the hell do you even care?”
Mattheo’s hand snaps out, stopping him mid-step. “You know why I care.”
Theo’s gaze darkens, voice low. “Oh, you mean because of your feelings for her?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Does your girlfriend know that you told Y/n you’ve always liked her?”
Theo’s eyes flicker over Mattheo’s shoulder, catching the shared looks between Blaise, Enzo, and Draco. There’s no shock in their expressions—only a knowing look as if they’d been bracing for this moment all along. It’s unsettling, the way they seem almost resigned, like they’ve seen the tension building between him and Mattheo from a mile away.
Mattheo scoffs, an edge of irritation slipping into his voice. “Did she go and tell you everything I said?”
Theo raises a brow, “No, I overheard you. But even if she did, what does it matter to you?”
Matteo narrows his eyes, “Because I care about her.”
“Bullshit. If you cared about her, you wouldn’t have put her in that position last night.”
“I care about her more than you think.” Mattheo bites out, and the boys watch carefully as Mattheo takes another step forward.
“Right,” Theo scoffs, “You care so much you went and found yourself another girl.”
Theo sees it before Mattheo even speaks—the subtle shift in his expression, the tightening of his jaw, the flicker of defensiveness flashing in his eyes. “I wasn’t ready to—”
“So you weren’t ready for her? But you were for Veronica? I don’t get it. You can’t just expect her to always be there when you finally figure out what you want.”
Mattheo laughs in disbelief, “I wasn’t waiting, I—”
“Then what the hell were you doing?” Theo’s voice sharpens. “You had years to tell her how you felt, and you didn’t say anything. Then you get a girlfriend, she starts spending time with me, and all of a sudden, you care? Leave her alone and quit messing with her.”
“I’m not fucking messing with her—”
“You are. You’ve been doing it for years.” Theo’s eyes flash with frustration, and suddenly he feels the urge to make it clear that he wants you—that he always has, and Mattheo isn’t the only one. “She deserves better than someone who can’t make up their mind. She deserves to be someone’s first choice.”
Mattheo’s expression hardens and his tone drops. “And that’s you?”
Theo doesn’t have the chance to answer, because Veronica’s shriek causes both their heads to snap in her direction, “Matty!”
Theo watches as Mattheo steps back, anger giving way to frustration, a quiet curse slipping from his lips at the sight of his girlfriend. Veronica strides forward, pushing right past Blaise and Enzo without a second glance. Blaise shoots her an agitated look, irritation flashing in his eyes as she barrels through.
“I thought you said you guys were going to Hogsmeade.” Veronica smiles, reaching out to take Mattheo’s hand, but he subtly pulls away, dodging her touch with a flicker of impatience in his eyes.
“We are.” He grumbles under his breath, but Veronica keeps smiling sweetly, unfazed, as if her boyfriend hadn’t just blatantly brushed off her attempt to hold his hand. Mattheo turns to leave, muttering something to the boys, likely a brief comment about their plans.
Theo watches as an agitated Mattheo strides out of the common room, with the boys trailing behind him. But the boys glance back at Theo, their expressions a mix of caution and confusion. Theo turns to leave as well, but Veronica’s voice stops him, soft and pointed, just loud enough for him to hear.
“You should tell your girlfriend that last night was a mistake,” she murmurs, a sympathetic smile tugging at her lips. “Mattheo thought she was me; you know how he gets after a few too many drinks.”
Theo thinks about correcting her, letting her know that he doesn’t really know what she means at all. From what he saw last night, Mattheo was tipsy—not that drunk—and Theo has had enough years of experience to tell the difference. But instead, he shrugs it off, deciding he’d rather find you than spend any more time in the common room.
.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.
“Hogsmeade is that way.” You say, a bit confused, gesturing in the opposite direction as you walk beside Theo.
“I know.” He replies simply, his gaze flickering back to the trail that you’ve never gone down before. Honestly, you had no idea it even existed. It’s evident that this path isn’t used often, as moss and grass have claimed most of the walkway. Vibrant wildflowers dot the sides, their colors brightening the greenery around them.
He’s been quiet for most of the walk, which feels strange; you’re not used to this side of him. The more time you’ve spent with Theo, the more he’s opened up—sharing memories of his late mum, the weight of his father’s expectations, and his hopes for the future. These walks, where you slowly unravel each other’s stories, have become your thing, something that only the two of you share.
You frown slightly, glancing at him as you try to piece it together. “But I thought you said you got the flowers from a shop.”
“I never said that.” Theo’s lips curve into that soft, gentle smile that never fails to send your stomach into a flutter. “I said I’d take you with me the next time I went to get some. I never said it was in Hogsmeade.”
It takes you a second, too enamored with the view in front of you for it all to click. The walk isn’t long, but as you continue down the path, you spot a patch of red ahead. It stands out against the greenery, a cluster of flowers blooming a pretty, vibrant hue. You can’t quite tell what kind they are, but when you glance at Theo, you notice the way his eyes flicker nervously, and it suddenly feels like you’re walking toward something important.
But then it hits you all at once: “They’re peonies.”
On instinct, you grab Theo’s hand, giving it a playful tug to urge him along toward the blooms. He lets out a soft laugh at your enthusiasm, and a warmth fills you as his earlier mood seems to lift, the tension in his shoulders fading.
When you reach the edge of the flower field, you pause, still holding Theo’s hand as your gaze lingers over the vibrant blooms stretching out before you. Theo glances at you, heart beating a little faster as he wonders what you’re thinking, but he brushes aside his nerves and releases your hand, shrugging off his jacket to lay it carefully on the ground. You murmur to him, urging him not to squish any of the flowers, and Theo smiles, his expression softening as he gently reassures you that he won’t.
There isn’t much room on his jacket, so you find yourself pressed against Theo’s side—though you don’t mind in the slightest. He’s leaned back on his hands, while you sit cross-legged beside him.
The quiet is soothing, broken only by the soft chatter of birds and the occasional hum of an insect drifting from flower to flower. The warmth of the sun on your skin feels heavenly, its heat a welcome contrast to the long, cold months that have passed.
“Is this why you left? The first night you stayed with me?” You ask, glancing to the right to watch his reaction.
From where you’re seated, you can see how the sunlight catches every small detail of his face, highlighting any imperfections. There’s the faint mole on his cheekbone, his dark lashes that you’re secretly jealous of, and the thin scar along his chin from when he fell off his broom as a kid. Another mark splits through his brow—a scar whose origin he could never quite remember, but has always just been there. It tugs at you, knowing you can recall the origins of his faded scars. It might seem trivial, but it means he’s let you in, sharing parts of himself that not everyone gets to see.
Theo nods, “I had to go early in the morning to give them to Pansy. With practice later, it was the only chance I could.”
A smile creeps onto your face as you imagine Theo, slightly awkward but determined, handing over the bundle of flowers and the little card to Pansy, who no doubt teased him relentlessly. You’d had wondered how she noticed that Theo was different with you, especially when most of your time together was just the two of you. But now, hearing this, you understand perfectly how she recognized a side of him that only seems to surface around you.
“I didn’t want to leave, y’know.” Theo continues, finally glancing over at you, and the effect is instant—those watercolor eyes meet yours, sending a flutter through your stomach as you instinctively lean closer, feeling yourself melt into his side.
“The flowers made up for it,” you tease, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Aside from you, they were the only thing that made me feel better.”
“Yeah?” Theo glances down at you, tucked into his side, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. Hearing you say the flowers meant something to you eases any nerves he had—because they were never just a way to cheer you up. They were his quiet, unspoken way of telling you that he was there, that he cared. And that, despite your feelings for Mattheo, he was an option too.
“Yeah.” You confirm.
For the rest of the afternoon, you and Theo sat together, talking about whatever came to mind as you picked flowers. You gathered a few, but mostly you watched as Theo picked the ones he liked the most, adding to the small bundle that sat between you both. Watching him carefully select the prettiest flowers, knowing he was going to give them to you, made something shift inside you. If you hadn’t fully realized your feelings before, you were certain of them now.
You lost track of time with Theo, but eventually, he had to leave for practice. He handed you the freshly picked flowers and walked you back to the castle, stalling as if reluctant to say goodbye. In the end, you pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and murmured a quiet ‘thank you.’ You didn’t want to say goodbye either, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be the reason Theo might get into trouble.
It wasn’t until you got back to your dorm, leaning against the door with a giddy squeal, the flowers pressed to your chest, their scent lingering in the air, that the realization hit you. You should’ve kissed him. The thought made your stomach dip with excitement, and for a fleeting moment, you entertained the idea of running after him, catching him just before practice, and kissing him. Absentmindedly, your hand rises to trace your lips, lost in your racing thoughts.
You’re so caught up in the moment that you don’t notice Pansy at her desk, watching you with an amused look.
“You look like you had a good time.” Pansy smirks as you startle and send her a look before pushing away from the door.
“Pansy, I’m fucked.” You whine and she lets out a loud laugh.
“You were from the second he stayed the night with you.” You pause for a moment, letting the realization settle in, and as it does, you know she’s right. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so safe with someone—not in the way you did that night. Sure, you felt safe with Mattheo, but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t compare to the way you felt when you were with Theo.
“Did you know he’s been picking me flowers?” You ask instead, setting the new bundle onto your desk before turning to face Pansy.
“Oh, I knew.” Pansy hums, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.
“How did I not notice?” You wonder aloud.
“You were a little distracted.” Pansy shrugs, and you nod in agreement.
After Pansy tells you she’s meeting Blaise after practice, you briefly wonder if you should go with her. You sit on your bed, lost in thought, weighing the decision, but before you can make up your mind, Pansy is already gone.
As much as you want to see Theo, you hesitate, not wanting to assume that today meant as much to him as it did for you. It’s clear from the fact he’s been picking you flowers that he has feelings for you, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself or risk ruining something before it has a chance to begin. So, you stay in your dorm, trying to focus on an assignment you’ve been putting off for far too long, though your mind keeps drifting back to him.
So when you hear the knock, your heart skips a beat, and before you can think, you're off your bed and rushing to the door. You know exactly who is on the other side and your stomach flutters in anticipation. You pause just before opening it, taking a deep breath to calm the flutter of nerves in your stomach, willing yourself to appear composed.
You pull the door open, forcing a casual smile as you try to sound unaffected. “Hi,” you say, though your voice betrays the excitement simmering just beneath the surface.
Theo stands in front of you, one hand holding onto the doorframe. His hair is a tousled mess, and his cheeks are flushed—whether from practice or the rush of seemingly running here, you can’t quite tell.
And when he looks up at you, he’s out of breath and looks downright impatient, “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” You pause, thrown off and completely caught off guard. That was not what you expected him to say, and your mind spirals into the worst possible conclusions. Was he regretting what happened earlier? Apologizing for showing you the flowers, or for picking some for you? Giving you flowers at all? Maybe his feelings for you weren’t strong enough, or perhaps he only thought he had them? The thought that it could be too soon after your feelings for Mattheo crossed your mind, even though you’d started moving on from him months ago, gnaws at you.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, releasing the doorframe and stepping forward, one step, then another. He pauses, giving you a moment to pull away if you need to, but you stay rooted to the spot, unable to move. Theo stands so close now that you have to tilt your head back slightly to meet his gaze. He reaches up, and your breath catches when his thumb gently brushes against your cheek, his hand settling just below your ear. His voice is quiet, but the weight of his words makes your heart stutter. “I should’ve kissed you, dolcezza.”
He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles on your skin as he steps even closer, his breath warm against your cheek. His words tumble out in a rush, desperate and raw. “All through practice, all I could think about was you. The moment I walked away, I just wanted to turn around and kiss you.” His voice drops to a whisper, low and thick with a longing that sends shivers down your spine.
You murmur his name softly, but he’s barely listening, his gaze intense as he leans in slightly, his lips just inches from yours. “Fuck, you've been on my mind for months—years, if I'm being honest. I feel like I’m losing my mind, wondering if you feel even a fraction of what I do.” His hand still lingers at your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin, the warmth of his touch sending a tremor through you as if he’s waiting for something—waiting for you to say what he’s too afraid to ask.
It’s you who closes the distance, your lips meeting his in a sudden, fervent kiss that catches him off guard, pulling a surprised moan from deep in his throat. His body reacts instantly, his free hand snaking around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you against him. The sound he makes causes a rush of warmth to flood your veins. He’s hardly touched, and you’re already too warm, and your knees threaten to buckle beneath you. You let him guide you backward, the pressure of his hand firm against your back until your steps falter just inside your dorm. Every inch of him feels like fire against your skin, and your previous worries fade into nothing.
Once you’re inside, he kicks the door closed with a thud but the sound barely registers. Without any hesitation, he presses you back against the door, his body close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. But you want him closer. So much closer. One hand rests flat against the door beside your head, while the other cups your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. Then, it’s him who leans in, his lips meeting yours in a slow, deliberate kiss that deepens with an aching intensity. There’s no rush now—just an overwhelming wave of longing, a perfect culmination of the emotions you’ve both held back. Your head spins, your heart races, and you’re certain that if you could take your temperature in this moment, it would be burning hot.
But then, slowly, he pulls back just enough to break the kiss, his breath heavy and uneven. His forehead rests against yours for a moment, both of you struggling to catch your breath. You feel the urge to close the distance between you again, to press your lips to his, because there’s something about the way Theo kisses that leaves you breathless, already craving more. But then again, maybe it’s just him—the way his touch makes a thrill course through you.
“I wanted you to kiss me before you left—”
The door jolts against your back, halting you mid-sentence as Pansy’s voice cuts through the moment. “What the hell? Open the door.” You hold your breath, hoping that if you stay silent, she might forget the whole thing and simply go away.
But that’s wishful thinking: “Babes. Please open the door."
“I thought you were hanging out with Blaise.” You call back, stealing a glance at Theo, whose expression mirrors your own surprise. Before leaving practice, he’d told Blaise to keep Pansy distracted—he wanted time with you because he had planned on telling you exactly how he felt about you.
“It’s about Mattheo.” Your brows raise is surprise at the intensity in Pansy’s voice and you fling open the door without another thought.
“What’s wrong?” Theo stands behind you, watching the way your face turns nervous.
“Veronica’s been giving him a love potion,” she says softly, her eyes studying your face as it twists in disbelief. “He’s in the infirmary... and he’s asking for you.”
please please please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write, and reblogs help to spread my work 🤍
#theo nott series#theo nott fluff#theo nott angst#theo nott x fem!reader#theo nott x you#theo nott x y/n#theo nott x reader#theodore nott x slytherin!reader#theodore nott x you#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott x y/n#theo nott fic#theo nott imagine#theo nott fanfiction#theo nott#theodore nott series#theodore nott fluff#theodore nott fic#theodore nott fanfiction#theodore nott angst#slytherin boys
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fade into you, lmh
genre/tw est. relationship! suggestive, pure sugar cane fluff (like high fructose corn syrup fluff), minho only knows how to talk with his hands </3, gn!reader!! minho calls you kitty and honey <3!! seriously cavity inducing fluff be warned !! mostly unedited…
w/c 848
omg i haven’t posted a fic in so long nor have i written anything in months :(( but i’m finally a lot more settled after a busy drama filled couple of months! I hope you love this fic as much as i loved writing it. I’m not kidding when i say i wrote this in an hour on my phones notes app, don’t be afraid to tell me how you feel hehe 🩵
It’s cold outside your sleeping bag, frigid morning fog seeping into the once cozy tent. You shiver at Minho’s nose pressing into your neck, his face as cold as a dog who’s been outside too long.
You’re not sure why you let your boyfriend convince you to camp in the middle of autumn… less sure why he insisted it was just the two of you, but you could never refuse Minho when he asked you so nicely— hands easing sighs while his mouth asked the question; the only thing you could say was yes, over and over.
Unfortunately, the ecstasy of being asked was not akin to the actual experience.
Insistent rain stormed down from the second you arrived to the last minute before your eyes closed, Minho in all his excitement forgot the cooler and was forced to drive all the way back—leaving you to shiver in the tent alone. No, it was not the romantic getaway your boyfriend promised, but being here now—warm despite the wilderness’s wishes—you think it could be.
“Are you still cold, honey?” Minho asks, his voice just a whisper amongst the whistling trees.
With your eyes still closed, you can only imagine what he looks like… Soft with sleep, his eyelashes cascading shadows across the slopes of his skin, beautiful like hypnos after creating dreams. You can feel his breath against your neck and his hands clutching at your waist, so safe despite how strong he is.
“No, min, I’m just right” you say, and you can feel his laugh, rumbling through him, feel his smile against your skin.
You wish he knew how much you cherish him… how much you treasure these little moments with him. How you’ll think about this moment every time he’s away from you; rolling the memory around your tongue like it’s a piece of candy.
Sometimes, you’re sure you can see a cord running from you to him, wrapping around the two of you like cling wrap—like every moment you’ve ever had was crafted by the fates, your story weaved by the gods themselves.
“Just right huh?” he says, before he’s lifting his head to look at you, eyes open and beautiful. “Well goldilocks, look how pretty you are this morning.” His smile is mischievous and if you didn’t know better you may think he was joking, but his tone gives him away: too quiet to be anything but the truth.
“Minho!” you cry, embarrassed by compliments this early, “lay back down, I need you to keep me warm.” He smiles down at you, knowing you well enough to see that you’re flustered, it’s always too easy; one compliment, and your skin is hot, his kiss lasts a second too long and you’re pulling away shaking.
Minho doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of making your blood rush, enjoying the chase even when he has you.
When his skin gets closer to yours again, chest to chest/heart to heart, you find yourself breathing his air like you share one pair of lungs. He’s so close to you, searing your skin even as the sleeping bag pulls awkwardly around your legs, letting cool air settle around your figure.
His lips are so close to yours, one breath away from a kiss, so close you can feel his words flow into your open mouth.
“Are you warm now, kitty?” he asks, his eyes boring into yours before flitting down to look at your skin; miles and miles of it under his hands, valleys of skin that are his as much as yours.
“I’m warm, Minho, are you?” Just a whisper.
“just right.” A smirk.
One breath, two breaths, three, and then he’s kissing you. Lips urging gasps to flow out of you, hands grasping at his tension filled spine. You’ve shared many kisses, sweet and sultry, frantic and lust filled, but something about this hunger is foreign to you.
His kiss is filled with wanting yes, but it’s almost like he’s trying to tell you something but forgot the words. His hands on your thighs urging you to listen, please please please understand, they say, clutching at the muscle like he’s afraid you’ll never know.
But you do, and so do your lips and your hands and you try your hardest to speak his language; responding to every bite with a nip of your own, gasping when his hands ask, kissing away the sleep still in his eyes. You know what he’s saying, I love you, I’m sorry you’re cold, I’m sorry I made you come on this rain coated trip, I love you I'm sorry, I love you I love you.”
Your boy, always so embarrassed to tell you how he feels, but never afraid to show you.
When you pull apart, hands locked together still, eyes gleaming with an inside joke, a shared confession; you can see he wants to say something, see he’s trying to build the courage to split his heart open. Instead he flits his eyes up to the sky and smiles.
Look honey, the suns coming out”
And you understand.
© LUVTAK 2024
#k labels#stray kids#skz#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#Lee Know#Lee Minho#lee know x reader#lee minho x reader#skz minho#lino x reader#lee know fluff#lee know x gn!reader#skz fluff#skz angst#skz drabbles#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#minho fluff#lino fluff#stray kids fluff
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Hate and lies won the election. Trump ran on hate and lies and that's exactly what America wants. The US lives in a cycle where we hate and beat up on a small, easy target within society, blame them for everything, then repeat. It's happened many significant times throughout our history and Trump simply repeated it again, with great success.
He blamed trans people and South American immigrants for all our problems, blamed Biden for supporting them (even though he doesn't), and took his hate and lies to the bank to cash in. Easy.
Americans love to hate, live for it. The Christians hate everyone who isn't exactly like them in every way, the rich elite hate anyone trying to hold them accountable, the white supremacists hate that they can't be as openly racist as they once were and need someone to direct their racism at that both satisfies their bigoted worldview and moves the country closer to a fascist ethnostate.
Soon, these three major groups of Trump supporters will have to turn on each other, as right wing allies always have throughout history.
The biggest problem, of course, is that hate and lies cannot govern effectively, as we have seen with Trump's first administration being extremely unproductive (passing the fewest bills in history with record low approval ratings) and tripling our national debt in the progress while also letting over a million Americans die in a pandemic for financial gain.
As a historian and a student of sociology, it's extremely disheartening to see the people of the US fall for what may be one of the oldest tricks on the books. It will end the same way it has throughout history and many people in the US will be shocked, dismayed, confused and even revolted by what their country becomes, but those are the consequences of handing your country over to fascists because you're scared of immigrants and minorities doing things they have never and will never do.
I hope the hate and the lies are enough for those people to carry themselves through the difficult decades ahead.
Something I heard from a Trump supporter on the 5th really was disheartening. "There's never been a man like Trump leading a country. We're witnessing history in the making."
I have terrible news: there have always been men like Trump and their power has always come from hate and lies; we have seen this exact thing happen before in history. It has never ended well, not even for the people who cheer when they come into power.
Sure, Trump supporters will say he never lies, that he was the greatest president ever, that he only ever did amazing things for this country and that I'm full of shit. I don't blame them for feeling this way, it's how all the people who were tricked by despots before them have behaved. It's how all the supporters of fascism behave. They spurn education for propaganda, they reject reason and embrace dogma, they buy into lies because the truth requires the kind of integrity they're already willing to cast aside.
I cannot stress this enough: what we are seeing take place is not new. It has happened many times before in history and it always ends the same way. Suffering. Death. Lie after lie after lie until the foundational elements of what made that society what it is are all gone and all that is left is a cold, soulless machine that makes the rich richer.
We are seeing the kind of extremism that led to the heartbreaking indignities of the USSR, the irresponsible and self serving governance that led to the fall of the Shogunate, the greed and corruption that led to the dismantling of the Chinese Imperials, the hubris and lies that preceded the fall of Rome. The growing disparity between the rich and poor that collapsed the French Monarchy. The demonization of minorities and ethnic groups that led to the rise of the Third Reich and their Holocaust, soon to be succeeded, no doubt, by the warmongering and fraud that led to the implosion of the Third Reich.
To quote the immortal words of ABBA: "That history book on the shelf is always repeating itself."
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being aromantic is like. hey btw you're going to live a life that is the culmination of most of society's worst nightmares. sorry lol ✌️ but then you turn around and take a really good hard look at it and it turns out that living in that nightmare is fucking awesome and you get to wake up every day and take that fear that other people have and laugh and hold it close until it's a great joy for you instead. and being happy is a radical act that you define instead of someone else. and you're sexy as fuck that's just a fact of life i don't make the rules on that one
#aromantic people are just sexy i'm not making the decisions here it's just facts#course ur hot as fuck. it came free with the aromanticism#being sexy is just default settings for aromantic people 👍#hope this all helps. anyway i'm on my 'i hope i die alone <3 i can't wait to die alone <3' kick rn#i think the existential fear that people have of Not Partnering specifically is so. well.#obviously that shit is strong and it is SO awesome to be free of it.#realizing you're aro and you don't Want a partner can be such a hit to the solar plexus#cause society says that's the only thing that'll make you happy. so either you go without that thing or you force yourself#into doing something you don't want which would make you unhappy anyway.#so you think it's a lose lose situation and you have to come to terms with what amatonormativity presents as the worst possible situation#but then! whoa! turns out personhood is inherently valuable in and of itself and romantic partnering is just a construct!#and that nightmare is now your life to do with as you please... define as you will... structure as you want...#best case scenario. is what i'm saying.#every day i wake up ready to spit all that amatonormative rhetoric back in life's teeth by being alone and being happy#and it's so fucking satisfying. every day.#fucking JUBILANT being by myself. and i love being a living breathing 'fuck you' to the romantic system#you need a partner to be happy? oh that's sooo fucking crazy guess i'll go be miserable then. in my perfect fucking dream life lmao#yeah obviously it's the worst possible outcome on earth to die without a partner. so terrible. can't wait for it :)#aromantic#aromanticism#aro positivity#aroace#arospec#sorry to bitches who are sad about not having a partner. i could not give a fuck though get better soon#you couldn't EVER pay me enough to go back to a mindset in which my inherent value wasn't enough by myself.#FUCK that shit. absolutely miserable and a bad life outlook in general. like genuinely do the work w/ amatonormativity and get better#life is something that can be so fulfilling whether someone wants to kiss you or whatever or not#i'm on antidepressants and i have people i care deeply about. what the fuck would i need a partner for lmao
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you open my Super Important Documents and its just pictures of charles xavier
#xmen#mcu#xmen movies#xmen first class#charles xavier#professor x#snap sketches#todays schedule has been ruined by my ever occurring need to practice drawing movie charles its horrendous#i started this sheet last night but then i kept adding to it and i keep wanting to add to it but i MUST stop myself#in an ideal world i get paid to draw charles xavier and erik lehnsherr but no i live in this baka society#sleepless charles WAS inspired by me starting this at 1AM and forcing myself to sleep at 4AM#and then here i am picking i up still later .... i need professional help i fear but i aint got time for that#NEVERTHELESS I THINK IT GOT IT NOW. I THINK IM OK. i think i know how i wanna go bout drawing him now ...#chat can i confess that like. .5% of the reason i barely draw FC charles i because of his hair#for some reason some demonic entity prevents me from drawing it easily i am in STRUGGLE CITY#the only thing that gets me is that whenever i draw him i can only think of the likes of a disney prince but man thems the strokes ig#i also drew a quick dark phoenix charles but i figured id just keep this first class oriented#anything else i want to say ? uh. hm. its funny i never do any of these sheets for erik#genuinely On My Life made One (1) sheet and was like 'no yeah i got it. i got it down'#literally not my fault his head is So Shaped and defined but anyways. this aint about him.#i mean it could be. i still wanna do a doodle page concentrated on drawing how his powers show#more specifically how do i wanna draw the glow cause i cant decide on it ... also i wanna draw the 'levels' ...#but thats for another time. for right now i should probably eat i havent eaten all day#bye bye !!!!!! here's to hoping i draw something thats not a doodle sheet one of these days
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