#i keep covering for her because i do feel bad for her but its gotten a bit too excessive that maybe i have to be more straightforward

[jils-things]

i won't lie. cu.rly's character writing is actually helping me not do the flaws hes made in the game - and im currently having a little dilemma similar to it. the "be too nice to others you excuse too much of their flaws" dilemma

[rambling-at-midnight]

Don't Go Disappearing On Me Again

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Jason's lost too much to lose you, too. (We stan healthy communication in this house)

Word count: 2.3k

Ow.

You've never worked Friday nights before at the restaurant, and you never want to again. And you'd thought Saturday mornings were bad.

But one of your favorite coworkers had called you in a panic early this morning, begging you to take her shift, because her lab group's department at GCU was going out to bowling and it would be a great networking opportunity. You were the last person she called, but everyone else before you had declined because they were either scheduled or determined to avoid the shitshow.

And because you were weak, you gave in and said you would cover her Friday night shift as long as she covered your Friday morning shift.

So you two swapped shifts, and you went into your library internship in the morning instead of the evening. It wasn't a particularly hard job, but end-of-week returns had you dashing all over the three floors, so your feet already hurt before you walked into the restaurant.

Right before coming in, you'd texted Jason that you'd gotten held up, and it was a good thing you did, because you haven't had a single break to look at your phone the whole shift. He likely wasn't even awake yet—last night's patrol had been tough on the both of you, him because he came home half beaten to death, and you because you'd had a heart attack waking up in the middle of the night to your bloody boyfriend passing out on top of you in bed. But you usually got home around six from the library, and it was looking like you wouldn't be back until ten at the earliest, so you wanted to let him know. It was going on hour seven after starting at two p.m., when the restaurant switched from its brunch to dinner menu. Personally, you think two p.m. is obscenely early to eat dinner, but apparently rich people loved eating at weird hours, because you had had nonstop tables the entire night.

But the good thing is that the restaurant closes at nine, so you’re almost there. After your last three tables eat and leave, all you have to do is clean your section, close your checks, and clock out.

In the kitchen, you lean against the fridge, rubbing your hips and knees. You’re a little too young to feel so creaky after seven hours on your feet. After all, Jason works all night, doing athletic feats you could never dream of.

You can't really complain, though. You'd gotten lucky with your tables; they'd all tipped well. Maybe you could even add a little bit to your savings account instead of shoving every paycheck right at your student loans, which just keep growing, no matter how much you pay.

“Oh, no,” says Charlotte, one of the other veteran servers at the restaurant. She’s staring at the camera feed display, which is tuned to a livestream of the restaurant’s entranceway. “Don’t you dare seat me now, Ashley, I swear to God.”

“What time is it?” your head jerks up. “We’re about to close, right? Is someone looking for a table?”

“Yeah,” she says, pointing to the screen. “The hottest man in the world just walked in our front door.”

You just hum, not bothering to look in favor of pulling out your phone. You know for a fact that the hottest man in the world is actually at home in your bed right now. “The kitchen’s stopped receiving tickets. No way Ashley seats someone right now.” The screen doesn't light up when you click the power button. Well, shit. It's dead.

“I can’t tell what he’s saying.” Charlotte squints at the screen. “He’s, like, huge. Does Ashley look a little scared to you?”

You’re out of the kitchen without even looking at the screen. You speedmarch right past your tables, ignoring one man’s halfhearted attempts to flag you down for more ketchup. A righteous fire is boiling in your gut. You’ve been here long enough that the managers won’t fire you for telling off any customers that harass the younger workers that are more scared to stand up for yourself.

Your mouth is already open, ready to spew forth the beginning of your tirade, when you recognize the man in front of Ashley at the host stand.

Dressed in gray sweats and a dark T-shirt, slouching slightly, he looks even worse than when you kissed his forehead goodbye that morning. The bruise on Jason's face has properly colored now, purple and blue along his jawline. His hair looks a little flat, like he's been wearing his helmet, which is strange.

Jason's eyes snap onto you the second you appear, and you falter at the intensity there. Something has happened, but you're not sure what.

"Hey," you say, a little hesitant. "What's up?"

Ashley exhales with relief. "So you do know him."

"Yeah," you say without breaking eye contact with Jason, who's staring at you with the same expression you think a wolf would wear when stalking a hare. "He's my boyfriend."

You expect Jason to tell you that someone was in an accident. Someone's in the hospital. Something terrible happened to your apartment while you were gone.

He says none of those things. Instead, Jason says, "I didn't know you picked up a Friday shift."

Ashley's face goes blank.

"I told you I would be home late."

“No,” he corrects. “You texted me that you were being held up.”

“Yeah, at work.”

“And then you disappeared.” Jason’s jaw clenched. “Did you know that a bank was held up this afternoon? Your bank?”

“Oh, shit,” your hand flies up to cover your mouth. “My phone died, I don’t know when. You couldn’t check my location and see I was here?”

He just shakes his head, stiff and wordless.

“Hey, Y/N.” It’s your manager approaching the host stand now, customer service smile on and eyes taking in Jason’s appearance. “What’s going on up here?”

“Hey, Steve,” you say. “Sorry, this is my boyfriend Jason—Jay, this is my manager, Steve—”

Jason gets the hint and smiles close-lipped, reaching to shake Steve’s hand.

“My phone died so he came to see if I needed a ride home.”

“As soon as your tables leave and your section’s clean, you’re good to go. Oh, and you have to roll silverware.”

“It’ll be at least another hour,” you say apologetically to Jason.

“Okay.” His eyes keep boring into you like he’s trying to send you a telepathic message. He’s mad, you get it, but it makes you a little mad, too. You’re a grown adult. Yeah, the miscommunication was your fault, and it’s fine for him to be worried, but he looks close to Red Hood levels of anger, which is totally unwarranted for this situation. “Is it cool if I wait at the bar for you, then?”

“Of course!” Steve answers for you. "Our bartender, Lacy, will be happy to serve you while you wait." He checks his watch. "Until last call, that is."

"He didn't scare you, did he?" you ask Ashley as soon as Steve leaves. You smile at Jason, trying to tease him, but his expression doesn't twitch. "He looks mean, but I promise he's a big ol' softie."

Jason just grunts, but on his way to the bar, he doesn't forget to drop a kiss to your forehead. It warms you from the inside out.

As soon as he's gone, Ashley blurts out, "What happened to his face?"

"Motorcycle accident," you fib. "Oh, my table's calling me."

You rush over to take care of the poor man's ketchup—he's been waiting almost five whole minutes—and check out another party. The back of your neck prickles as you do. Every time you glance at the bar, Jason's green eyes are locked on your every move. It flusters you so much that when your table leaves, they say thanks, and you respond with, "Good morning!"

"What?"

"Thanks, you too!"

You run back to the kitchen, and everyone immediately starts interrogating you about your 'huge hunky boyfriend' (Charlotte's words, not yours).

By some miracle, all your tables clear out by closing time, and you’re out by 9:20. There are still a couple people at the bar, but Jason’s up immediately to walk out with you, leaving his water glass on the counter.

He doesn’t say anything, though you can feel his eyes on you whenever you aren’t looking. You won’t fight in public, so you follow his lead and stay quiet.

He drove your car to pick you up, and even though he’s obviously mad, he holds the passenger door open for you before getting into the driver’s seat.

The drive home is silent. He parks in the spot for your shared apartment, then immediately, quietly, asks, “Why’d you pick up a shift without telling me?”

"It was super last-minute," you say. He's still facing forward, so you do the same, eyeing his profile out of the corner of your eyes. "Like, it happened this morning. I thought you were sleeping, so I didn't want to blow up your phone with texts. I thought you'd just check my location and see where I was when you woke up."

Jason's hand clenches on the center console. "I woke up and I was terrified."

"I'm sorry—"

"And the bank, and your wording, and your phone was off—"

"I know," you say, putting your hand over his fist. He unclenches immediately to lace his fingers with yours. "I'll make sure I tell you next time."

Jason takes a deep breath in, then lets it out. In a rush, he finally turns to face you and says, "I don't mean to be controlling."

You blink. "I don't think you're being controlling."

"You don't?" Jason frowns. "Then why were you so mad when I walked into your work?"

"Mad? I'm not mad—you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, what are you talking about?"

"You've been glaring this whole time! And you didn't say a word this entire car ride."

"Because I thought you were angry. I wanted to give you space."

"Okay, wait, wait, wait." You hold up a hand. "Let me get this straight. You're not mad at me?"

"No," he says earnestly. "I was worried and scared, but you're an adult. You don't have to ask for permission if you want to pick up a shift at work." He makes a face like the thought disgusts him.

"Okay," you say. "Okay, well if you're not mad at me, I'm not mad at you, either."

"Then why did you look so pissed when I walked in?"

You press your lips together to keep from smiling. "Well, we have cameras that show us up front while we're in the kitchen, right? One of my coworkers was watching and said 'the hottest man in the world' walked in and I didn't look because I thought the hottest guy in the world was still asleep in my bed—"

Jason covers his face with his hands. You can't stop your smile now, and you pull them away so you can look at said handsome face. "And I didn't even look because I'm such a loyal, awesome partner—"

"You are pretty awesome," he agrees, trying to sound serious, but he's grinning like an idiot, too. His cheeks are flushed pink.

"I know I am. But then Charlotte said that the hostess, Ashley, looked a little intimidated by him, so I walked out to see if she needed help."

"Aw," Jason says. He lowers his chin to look at you from underneath his lashes, pretty as a picture. "Were you going to give me a stern talking-to?"

"I can still give you one," you offer.

"Maybe later."

He's still grinning, and you're still grinning, so the both of you are grinning at each other like idiots in the car.

You want to kiss him, and he's your boyfriend. You're allowed to do that whenever the two of you want, so you take Jason by the chin and pull his mouth to yours.

Jason sighs against you, and it's like all the tension in his body melts away. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw, the other on the back of your head.

You break away to murmur, "Are you patrolling tonight?" He's still so beaten up.

"No," he whispers, voice low and gravelly in a way that has butterflies whipping around like a tornado in your stomach.

"Good. Wanna go up and be the hottest patient in the world while I look at your wounds?"

"Only if you're the hottest nurse in the world."

"Oh, but then who will be the hottest chef in the world who makes dinner?"

"The hot chef is on vacation right now," Jason joked. "But I can be a really hot food-orderer. What takeout are you in the mood for?"

"You're the injured one. What do you want?"

"I want whatever you want."

You narrow your eyes in a glare. "Well, I want whatever you want."

"You gotta make a decision," he says, already on his phone. "You're the hottest decision-maker in the world, I'm the hottest food-orderer."

"Chinese?"

"You got it."

Right before he dials the number, you grab him and kiss him again. When you pull back, he chases after your lips. It's so tempting that you give him another firm peck before you pat his chest once.

Jason blinks twice, looking dazed. "What was that for?"

You shrug. "I just wanted to kiss the hottest man in the world."

"Oh, my God." He groans and covers his face again, but you can see his red ears. "You're never gonna let that go?"

"Mmm." You pretend to consider it. "No."

DC taglist:

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts

Forever taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit  @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

[kadwrites]

an introduction | T.S

previous part | next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary ; you meet your husband to be for the first time.

warnings ; angst, dysfunctional family ig? , arranged marriage trope. bad writing?

a/n ; is it good? is it bad? is it too long? who knows. thank you for the support <3 please let me know what you think!

_

you hadn't left your room for the past three days. celest would be there , feeding you, holding you as you cried.

tonight though, you couldn't sleep because the sounds of your siblings yelling is keeping you away from the slumber you very much needed.

"you did what?"

oliver's brows furrow, his very pregnant wife , renee , sits beside him, her eyes open wide and a hand on her belly.

his mother tries to act like she didn't feel the guilt clawing at her heart , she sips her tea, "it's about time she got a husband."

"mum , what were you thinking? what has gotten into you?" his voice isn't loud, it isn't his usual roar, which is what concerned his wife. she puts a hand on his shoulder "you're forcing 'er to marry thomas shelby? are you fucking insane? have you lost your bloody mind?"

"im not forcing her to do anything, she agreed."

"after ya slapped 'er."

celest lets out a chocked sob at the mention of that

his mother's eyes are stern when they look up at him, resenting the fact that he brought it up

"she's a wild girl, she raised her voice at me"

"what did you expect 'er to do?" he got up, and his wife desperately tries to calm him down "lay on 'er back and open 'er legs?"

"to obey her mother."

"the mother that treated 'er own daughter like a piece of meat?" his jaw clenched, his hands shake "how could you do that? you didn't even tell us anything."

abraham is pacing around. his girlfriend ,anna stands in the doorway, watching this unfold. what else was she supposed to do?, its not like she can do anything. celest is sitting on a chair, her face buried in her hands as she cries. their father wasn't at home, he was out visiting his brother.

he's been avoiding this very incident like the plaque.

"when did this even 'appen?" abraham walks and stands next to oliver, both of them staring at their mother, his voice trembles as he tries to hold back whatever he had to say.

"why does it matter?" their mother slams the teacup on the table "it's already happened. what good is it going to do if we keep talking about it?"

"how long 'ave you been plottin' at this?" oliver's voice gets louder, his wife tries to get up but cant, abraham grabs his shoulder instead. "are you that desperate for money?"

"i did it-"

"for 'er ? securing 'er a future, yeah? is that what you tell yourself?" celest finally speaks, her face glistening with tears as she stands up

celest was always her mother's daughter. being the eldest, she always aimed to please her but when this happened, she couldn't even stand to look at her mother. she knew their mother was looking for a suitor ,she tried to reason with her, telling her how her younger sister would never agree, that she'll just yell and maybe even try to run away. celest never knew that the suitor her mother had in mind was thomas shelby, she never knew that he'd already agreed to all of this.

their mother's eyes move to celest, renee and anna share a look , and anna stands with her mouth covered. "this is not going to end well." ,they both think.

"what?"

"i said is that what you think you're doing? that you're doing whats best for 'er?" celest repeats "when you and i and everyone in this room knows who thomas shelby is, we know what he does, we know how he lives"

"he will take care of her." she raises her voice as well

"mother...." abraham warns, with his eyes closed. he knows the words she will say next would just anger everyone further

"i dont want her to end up like you! with a man that has you living in a piss poor excuse of a house, running after his spawn." her mother spits those words out like venom.

"i love 'im, i chose 'im, and i never ever regretted that decision, i never once complained,i never doubted his love or loyalty" celest walks closer "i will live a good life with a man who is good to me, an honest man. would she say the same about the husband you chose for 'er?"

"she will love him! she will grow to love him" she yells those words, as if she desperately wants them to be true.

celest lets out a chuckle , looking at her mother as if she was insane "do you not hear yourself? do you not hear how you sound?" then she moves even closer,"you're ruining 'er life!" celest cried, her screams sound through the whole house, abraham is now holding her back, as she squirms and thrashes "is this what you fucking want ? for your own child to live a miserable life?"

oliver left the living room at some point and he was inside your room now, somehow.

he crouched at the side of the bed, where you're laying on your stomach, cheek against the pillow and covers tucked up to your neck.

"i..." he tries to speak, he lets out a breath "i didn't know" he felt guilty for some reason, as if he could've stopped this.

"i know"

"you don't 'ave to say yes" he puts a hand on your head smoothing down your hair. oliver was never the one for affection, always awkward with it. "you don't. you can say no"

"i cant" you whisper back to him, your eyes look at him and they are once again filled with tears, your lips quiver

"yes you can"

"no i can't" you let out a sob "and you know that."

he just looks back at you, keeps on smoothing down your hair

"its not your responsibility to save them."

"it is now"

and he knew he couldn't change your mind, "she says he's comin' by tomorrow ,to see you."

silence ensues. you two just stare at each-other not knowing what to say

for the first time in his life, oliver the man with the biggest mouth, the loudest voice, the one who always fought you over that one spot on the table, doesn't know what to say. he has nothing to say.

he slowly gets up, and leaves the room, closing the door behind him gently.

and when that dreaded morning comes, you find yourself on your vanity chair, looking at your reflection in the mirror, your face still almost emotionless

celest stands behind you, brushing your hair,she's crying silently, and you just stare at the mirror

you knew that those steps belonged to your mother, you'd memorized how they sounded when you were a child , when you pretended to be asleep so she wouldn't know you'd stayed awake past your bedtime. she walks and stands next to celest, you don't look at her, you just stare at yourself.

celest puts the brush on the table and she walks away, she walks to the window, trying to calm down. your mother picks up the brush.

"i know you think im cruel, and that i'm selfish. but i did it for your sake." she speaks

this is the first time you'd even seen her since it all happened

your eyes dart up to her, she doesn't look at you, she just looks down at your hair as she brushes it.

"when your father got sick, i never thought we'd lose the farm too, we lost the very thing that gave us most of our money." she pauses for a second "i know this isnt how you wanted to get married, it was not an easy decision for me either"

"i don't love 'im" your voice is soft, its not angry

"love isn't everything, you don't need it to be content" she continues "i didn't love your father when i married him , but love follows"

"he is nothing like my dad"

your mother stops again "he's a hardworking man, he was in the war , wasn't he? just like yer father."

"my father was a farmer," she muttered "that's what you loved about 'im, what you've come to love. that he is a good man but the man you're marrying me off to isn't"

you sound like celest.

your words cut deeper than you thought they would, your mothers eyes close, she sighs "you're my youngest child and i want you to live a good life when me and your father are no longer here .a safe life. i dont want you to need a roof over your head or worry about money or food"

you don't want to argue , so you don't. you just let her brush your hair and neatly style it. she brings a box and opens it, inside it a golden necklace with a ruby as a pendant, she puts it on you, she smiles at your reflection

"i wore it when i married your father", maybe it will bless your marriage too, your mother thinks to herself.

you don't say anything, you just do what you're told. you were too tired to fight this anyways. you just wanted this day to pass

and then you hear it, your brother's voice as he greets him, despite his anger your oliver sounds polite. their voices are muffled but you hear them.

you mother walks you down the stairs and when you descend you see him, on the green sofa , talking to your father and your brothers and as if he could sense your presence his eyes dart up the stairs and he sees you.

you feel as if the whole house ran out of air, and as if your lung collapsed. you look back at him nonetheless as you walk down the stairs.

it feels as if their voices are distant as your family greets him, very welcoming and warm they sound but you can't process a word. you just look at him. you think you mumbled a greeting too, you're not sure.

he got up when you entered the living room, he looks you up and down but only for an instant and then his eyes go back to yours. you cannot see any emotion on his face.

you sister stands at your side, renee on the other, they sit with you between them on the couch facing him, the rest of your family scattered around the room but you didn't look at them, too busy looking at the man you'll marry. it's almost as if you can visibly see the blood on his hands.

but when he speaks , you snap back into reality out of your trance

"its a pleasure to finally meet you."

his voice is deep, calm and collected. for some reason it sends a chill down your spine

"the pleasure is mine" you say back, as politely as you could.

slowly, person by person, your family leaves the room

you glance at the window, your brothers and father are outside smoking, pretending to not watch. celest, renee and anna are under the foyer.

your mother and mrs gray are in the kitchen, having tea, when did she come in here?, you didn't even notice her.

you lean back against the sofa, you stare at him just like he stares at you

"mind if i smoke?" he already has his cigarette between his lips , he pulls out his lighter

"no" you say curtly , you sit on the sofa in the most expensive dress you own, your newest heels,

he offers you a cigarette, you eye it. you hadn't smoked since your parents caught you smoking on the roof but they've disappointed you, so what if you disappoint them one more time

you pull a cigarette out, he passes you the light and you light it, then putting it out

he leans back as well, crossing his legs

"are you good with children? can you care for them?"

you nod, your cigarette hangs between your fingers"i 'ave one nephew and 4 nieces, one on the way too"

"i 'ave a boy"

his eyes give nothing away no matter how long you stared at him , looking for a crack in the mask

"what's his name?" you ask softly

"charles"

"how old is he?"

"four, he's turning five soon"

"is that why you're looking for a wife? to look after your son?"

"thats a part of it, yes" he exhales the smoke, he throws an arm around the back of the sofa

"what's the other part?"

"i need a wife and i want someone i can trust around my boy when im not around"

you nod , your eyes look away for the first time.

"do you feel like you can do that?"

you turn back to look at him

"i believe so , yes"

he nods, "are you being forced into this?" he's blunt. it doesn't take a genius to know that you're not happy, that you're reluctant.

"no, i'm not"

"i don't want to marry you if you're unwilling"

"i said i'm not ,didn't i?" you tried to hold back your tongue, but you couldn't

his brow raises at this ,"you don't exactly look like you're content with your decision"

"is this an interrogation?" you ask, stubbing the cigarette on the ashtray that sits on the table. partly because the taste of it made you nauseous, having not had one in years. the other part annoyed and defensive

"i believe its called an introduction" a his face is still stoic, but his voice is betraying him, it's sounds as though he's amused.

you look up, you hate to admit it but you can't deny it. he looks handsome, in his expensive suit, his glasses, his cheek bones. celest was right, at least he is easy on the eyes

"an introduction, aye?"

"hmm"

you just look at eachother, you blink a couple of times, then lean back again.

"its my decision, mr shelby." you try to compose yourself, "it wasn't forced on me,"

he nods again,

"do you 'ave any conditions?"

"i do..." you lick your lips nervously "my father, he's sick"

"i will take care of his medical expenses" he nods before you could finish that sentence

"it would be nice if i could finish my own fucking sentences"

he lets out a dry chuckle, and you take it as a sign to continue

"he's never been properly checked , we don't know what exactly is wrong with 'im" you sigh "my only condition is that 'im and my mother would be looked after, financially and medically."

"they will be"

"i want it in writing" you hesitate but then say it anyways , you don't know if you can trust him, you don't care if you offend him.

he looks at you, his eye travel between yours "alright"

you let out a breath you didn't know you've been holding

-

@tardisloverz , @optimisticsandwichgladiator

[hauntedjellyfishwitch-blog]

I have a request! If you’re comfortable? No one else will :(

Okay so you and Daryl are just settling in Alexandria, Daryl is very sexually frustrated but he doesn’t say anything, thinking he’s ridiculous.

Eventually one night the two of you are just relaxing or something, maybe you have your hand on his thigh or you kiss him innocently and he really tries to hide how turned on he is just from that.

There’s no sex because before you know it, you’re both kissing and Daryl is humping against the couch or your leg and he finishes way too soon.

Sorry it’s so long but pleeeeeease 🩷🩷

Wound Up

Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin.

Pairing: Daryl x Reader (No use of Y/N)

TW: Mild, non explicit smut. Light angst/tension. Humping!

A/N: Hi Anon, thanks for this request, I am sorry it's taken me SO long. I'm sure you could find another author to do it more justice than I can, but here you are! I am on a mad catch up, and this was edited quite quickly so if you notice any errors please yell at me but politely and with a tone that implies you're not mad at me because I am a millennial who already assumed you are.

-

It's been weeks. Which in the grand scheme of things is hardly any time at all, especially considering how long he has been able to go without affection in his life. But without her specifically? Without her, mere minutes feel like a lifetime. Which is all a poetic way of saying Daryl is absolutely dying to be inside her. Frustrated doesn’t begin to cover it, if they’d have had walls for the past few weeks he’d have been climbing them. He’s only avoided climbing the walls they currently have because he’s been too damn busy.

Pining isn’t the word he’d use, if he’s honest with himself, though he has been basically drooling over her since the moment they first spoke and if anyone catches him staring, longing even, at her whilst they build walls and hold meetings and settle in, well that’s just unfortunate timing and they should mind their own business. The word he’d use is…yearning, which is a synonym for pining he supposes so yes, okay if anyone absolutely needs to know it’s pining.

He hadn’t been comfortable with sex before her, sure there’d been a few trysts and one-night stands (mostly at Merel’s insistence). Those were different though, hurried and anonymous and awkward as all hell. She changed everything. She had waited patiently, but openly for him to be ready, had never made a secret of what or who she wanted, and he still finds it hard to believe, after all this time, that its him. She’d snapped a coil inside of him he didn’t realise had been tightly wound, and once he’d gotten past his shy, unsure learning, once he stopped doubting that she wanted him, he’d practically devoured her whole at every given opportunity. He’d never been so sated in his life.

But there’s so many other things to worry about now, and it’s not like they could have done it on the road even if they weren’t dehydrated and starving. Weeks.

He almost ravaged her in the kitchen when she came downstairs dressed for Deanna’s welcome party, but she’d been so excited to go that he couldn’t stand to ruin it, instead kissing her deeply and telling her how beautiful she was. He should have attended, in hindsight, maybe he could have snuck off to a closet or a room somewhere like they used to on runs. And its not that spaghetti at Aarons place is bad, really its not, the food is delicious and the company, though hard for him, is easier than it is from others, but Aaron keeps asking questions about his wife, and every time he hears her name he physically has to bite back a groan.

Has never really been one for touching himself, he always feels guilty afterwards and it’s not really the relief he’s craving so much as her. Someone should tell his dick that though, because he’s been half hard for most of the goddamn day.

It takes him ten, maybe fifteen minutes if he’d counted, to go from faux nonchalance to full blown hormone raging teenage style lust. She’s returned from the party a little after midnight, stripped off her ‘too tight’ dress and burrowed herself into one of his large t-shirts and a clean pair of underwear. It would alarm Merle that he found this sexier, for all of his older brothers interest in bimbo style clothing and makeup clad bar dwellers, Daryl finds himself the most attracted to her like this. He tells her as much as they lay intertwined on the sofa, with her thigh slotted between his as they chatter about their evenings.

He's fine, he’s totally fine and he’s definitely coming across like he’s fine. She’s definitely not concerned enough to touch her hand to his cheek, ask if he’s alright before kissing him gently. He shatters, lowering his mouth to her neck to taste her.

He can’t help himself, really he can’t, hips thrusting with every delicious scratch of her nails through his hair. He hasn’t formed a single word in minutes, entire conversation cut down to contented sighs and frustrated groans. He’s too gone to stop himself by the time he hears her sharp intake of breath, hips speeding up as he grinds the hard length of himself against her upper thigh.

He’s not just a considerate lover, he’s agonisingly thorough, has never once finished without getting her there first. But now? He’s needy, he’s desperate.

“Slow down, Honey”

Her voice is floating, far away and upstream and coming at him from somewhere with no concept of time or space; he takes in the warmth of it, the affection laced tone he’s so used to but he couldn’t recall what she’s said if he needed to under threat of death.

“Missed ya” he grumbles against her neck, voice drifting away to catch hers “missed ya s’much”

He’s loosely aware that he’s still in his jeans, they’re too tight and not tight enough and her hands are tugging the hair he’d washed earlier so he finds he doesn’t care. Hips jerking, grinding into her so he doesn’t have to pull away even an inch. Delicious friction. His whole body is on fire, lost in her. He’ll be embarrassed by this later, but now he cares for nothing beyond the tight grip he has around her body and the soft moans he can hear in his ear as his thigh grinds between her legs.

He sucks a bruising kiss against her neck, feels the wet patch against his leg grow larger, hears the moans deepen. Eyes glazed and jaw agape, letting out whines and grunts and groans he doesn’t even realise he’s making. Drowning in the smell of her, the warmth of her body and the tangy taste of dried sweat as his mouths her collarbone.

She leans in a little more, grazing the bulge in his pants as she runs a hand through his now clean hair. She’s missed this as much as he had. She hadn’t wanted to push, he’d been exhausted and anxious, eyes flitting around for signs of trouble but she opens her eyes in time to see his come undone, cock pulsing heavily as he ruts and ruts and ruts against her thigh before stilling.

“Fuck ‘m sorry” he huffs against her, hot breath fanning out over close skin. He finally opens his eyes, feels his own lopsided grin as he takes her in, pupils blown wide as he fingers grip the taut muscles of his arm.

“It’s alright” she smiles, and he’s not having that, is not going to let himself off the hook like she’s intending to, not ever but especially not when he can feel heat radiating against his leg, not when she’s looking at him like he’s dinner. He’s a considerate lover, agonisingly slow and thorough, but now? When he can see she’s needy and desperate. Now the fog in his brain is clearer?

He trails his hands down her body, smirking as she shivers. Safe, warm fingertips find their way to the waistline of her underwear.

“Le’me make it up t’ ya”

[safination]

Partners in Death...and Life.

Part I: Radio's not dead

| Part 2: Radio Will Be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself. | Masterlist| ao3 Pairings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem! reader, established relationship, human!alastor, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) acroace!alastor

"Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow. You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.” “Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?” You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” [Or after a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping . . . *checks notes* . . . the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason.]

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

You pass the tissue box—the third one already.

Your patient blows his nose, rubbing snot off his snout. He has to stretch his arms to reach his nose. Alligators are known for their long snouts. His nostrils flare when he sniffles.

Used tissue is discarded on the pastel-pink floor despite a pastel-pink trashcan stationed by his webbed feet. It’s been the same pattern for the last fifteen-minutes. Tissue, Sneeze. Floor.

“—and I have this . . . uh . . . like this real bad itch on my eye. I keep rubbing and rubbing but it doesn’t do shit! My eyesight’s gotten worse—It’s already fucked up but this is just different. My roommate hissed at me about getting blood all-over the carpet floors if I kept scratching my scales. Oh. Oh! I’ve been snee—achew!” Alligator snot lands on the pastel-pink floors of the clinic.

Your eyes twitch.

He takes another tissue and waves it around his head. “The top of my head is killing me. Ya’know where that is right?” He blows his nose. “It’s right here,” he says, inching his head closer to you. “The last nurse I went to was blind as a bat! Literally, she had the wings and everything. It was kinda hot.”

“I’m well aware of the location of your head,” you say. “You can lean back now.”

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Pastel pink floor.

Underneath the mix of feathers and hair strands, the bustling of the waiting room catches your ears. Someone curses, booming and violent at another waiting patient. A cough, a sigh, a barf. Painful curses erupt after that. You bring a hand to your ears, wincing as your eardrum ring. Pentagon City’s best and biggest hospital needs better doors, but those lazy sloth fuckers at the top invested at the first material they found.

The alligator sneezes into another tissue. He flicks it with his wrist, and it hits the pastel-pink wallpaper adorned with closed eyes. Maybe Belphegor should be the sin of Pride instead, considering all items are covered in her symbol.

“I really feel like t’was those exterminators ya’know?”

You do not, in fact, know. Half of what this young man says is incomprehensible.

His snout sways left to right when he shakes his head. “It’s only my second one, and this was a close call, and uh . . . well, ever since then I’ve been like this. One even got to my roommate. “

You hum, leaning back on your chair. You should petition to for thicker doors. And while you’re at it, better interior design, and better paint—something that isn’t pastel pink.

“Ugh, and it’s so not cool that this new roommate of mine’s been shedding since the day they moved in,” he says.  “Speaking of shedding, do you think it’s because of those exterminators? Do you think they like spread some sort of weird pollen to make us sick? They’re totally the type to do that.”

You take your pen—your pastel-fucking-pink pen—and poke his alligator sinuses.

Hell does have its own brand of humor. You gave your 20s to studying human anatomy, only to die and find yourself with the need to re-learn the boring part of biology.  (Two books on reptiles, four on mammals, and fifteen on sea creatures.)

“YEOWCH!” His teeth stick out again. You do not know what this means.  “What kind of nurse ar—“

“Doctor.”

“—you? That’s not the top of my head!”

You push back on of the feathers on your head. “Your roommate ‘hissed’ at you? And they’ve been shedding fur for two weeks now.?

“Yeah . . . ?”

You stare at him. “Have you ever considered that you’re allergic to your roommate?”

“Ooooooooooh,” he says. ‘Yeah, I was allergic to cats back when I was alive.”

You grab your (pastel-fucking-pink) prescription pad from the desk drawer. “Control it with some antihistamine. Four pills every 12 hours.”

His teeth start showing. You’re not sure if he’s frowning. It’s hard to tell. “Pills, really?”

You toss what you were writing into the massive pile of germs, mucus, and tissue. “I can give you a nasal spray. I’ll flush the mucus then insert a spray that prevents build-up,” you say. “They last for two weeks and then you’ll need to come back.”

He grabs the last tissue from the box. It still lands on your floor. “Ma’am nurse, do you have any more of this?”

You sigh and reach for a fourth box of tissue. “It’s doctor,” you say. “We keep nasal sprays here in the clinic. I’ll just grab one and you’ll be out in fifteen minutes.”

“No can do,” he says. “Before I died, my coach told me to stay away from that non-organic shit. It’ll mess us up real bad apparently. All those steroids.”

“You have phencyclidine sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Pheny—what?”

“ . . . Angel Dust.”

“The porn star?”

“The drug. You have drugs sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Come on, nurse—”

Threads erupt from your fingers. It snakes around his wrist, coiling and twisting.

He jerks his arm away and cries out when you tighten your hold. Your threads wrap around his legs. It pulls against his waist. Magic binds his arms, and tightens around every joint he owns.

You stop, only when the alligator struggles, trashing against the clinic chair.  His teeth bare and he snaps at whatever he can reach. You tug on one of the thousands of strings digging into his skin. His jaw snaps shut, and it will stay shut. Another tug and his back stretches to straighten. You move your fingers as if a piano laid before you, and he sits up like a good puppet.

Another month of clinic dury will be your punishment if those sloth from down below are lucid enough to do their jobs.Sadly, killing this idiot would have you suspended for three months.

“I am a doctor,” you tell him. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

The tension on your strings marks even the few scales scattered on his body. He’s a real idiot if he continues to struggle.

Delicate movements of your fingers bring him forward, his back still strained, and tilt his snout at a forty-five-degree angle.

Your threads elongate as you move toward the clinic drawers. It loosens around you, careful at keeping you able to move freely. It’s one of the handier parts of your magic. You shake your hands and the threads detach. It sticks to the floor to keep the alligator as your puppet. You scrub your hands thoroughly before taking the nasal spray and filling with with distilled water.

You place on nitrite gloves. It’s always best when dealing with bodily substances such as mucus.

You place a pan underneath and jam the tube up his nostrils, hosing his sinuses with water. The tension of his binding keeps him still. (If you ignore his whining, then that’s your business. The brawl you heard from the waiting room drowned it all out anyway.) He starts breathing better when all the snot flushes to the pan.

“Finished,” you say with satisfaction. You grab your prescription pad and write one for a nasal spray. “I cleared the mucus buildup so you shouldn’t feel any more headaches. The spray will keep your nose clear for as long as you use it. Come back if you start to feel any discomfort. For the rashes just get cream.” You point at the pastel pink door. “The exit’s right there.”

The threads dissolve in the air. He rubs his wrist, trying to soothe the red marks that your strings bring. You hand him the signed prescription.

He doesn’t close the door on his way out.

The broom and dustpan are hidden in one of the taller cabinets—pastel-pink like everything else in the room.

(Well, not everything. The radio sitting on the corner of the counter gives a splash of red into the room.)

You sweep the tissues into the dustpan. Your control over your strings is much more proficient when living beings are involved. Inanimate objects whip around when you use your magic on them, and radios have been difficult to purchase recently. It’s more convenient to clean using your own hands.

“Tagatha,” you call out when the floor is clean. “You can bring in the next one in.”

Silence is your reply.

“Tagatha?”

Your ears quirk. The noises are faint—an occasional cough, silent weeping, and muted voices coming from the television. You peek out the door, eyeing the crowd formed around the corner of the hall where a pAstel-pInK television mounts on the wall.

The door closes with a faint click. You sink into the cushions of the office chair. Vox’s yapping bore you. It was probably some man-child debate about the new extermination date.

Although . . . those serialized dramas he produces, sadly, are interesting enough to be consumed. If asked for your honest opinion, you’d tell them that they were a hot pile of smelly garbage, but you like to leave it playing mindlessly in the background.

Your husband will throw the television out the window the first chance he’ll get.

Too bad he’s occupied.

You grab a piece of paper from the drawer. Management is forcing you to write a thousand-word formal apology. There are about three-hundred words left to write.

Getting caught dissecting the dead bodies from the morgue is a mistake that won’t be repeated. One dead body and suddenly those lazy fuckers have diligence weaved into their DNA.

The body was already dead, and it’s not every day a chance to poke around a chimera’s entrails appears.

The sinner would contribute to something meaningful at least. You’re stuck on clinic duty until you dot your last sentence, and not a moment before

The coffee’s cold now, but consumable.

You reach across the desk, feeling for the knob of the radio. You twist until you feel the clink. Music fills the air—the same twenty-five songs on a loop. You stare at the radio for a moment. Just . . . a small . . . single moment.

 . . . On your kitchen counter, that second cup of coffee should be cold by now. It’s always cold when you trudge through the door. It’s been cold and untouched for years.

Yet, without fail, that second cup you brew will always be waiting for its owner.

“Salutations!” You snap your head to the radio. “Good to be back on the air.”

Huh? The feather on your hair preens. You swipe the radio, your hold on it feather-light.  You turn the knob responsible for volume. The static noise stings your eardrums.

“—ile since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast. Sinners rejoice!”

Murmurs erupt outside your door. You blink and find yourself slamming it open. One foot after another, one step after the other, brings you closer to the television. Your shoulder throbs when you bump into someone, but you keep pushing until you see Vox and his tacky suit enlarged on the screen.

“What a dated voice!”

A reply comes from the radio. “Instead of a clout-chasin’ mediocre video podcast.”

Your feather rises higher. Laughter escapes your lips, it leaves a dry taste. That . . . that ṁ̵̭͔̲̙̦͎̝̜̲̠͙͇̂̏̃̐̂̓̊̂̕̕o̴̢̭̝̙̤̬͚͐̅͗̌̇̂̌̕ţ̷̛̝̂̿h̶̯̟̙̲̘̟̟͙͔̔̋͊̋̿̐͘͜͜ę̶̗̰͔̫͔̗̝̘̻̰̓̓̈̊͜r̵̨̂̏f̶͖̻̱̺͕̹̫̭̠̚u̸̬̺̯̟̦͖̅̂́́̌̚͝ć̴̖͙̰͈͕̉͌̈́́̈̔̀̉̍́͜͠ḳ̴̨̧̗̫̗͖̞̟̑͌̂̀̈́̀͆͒ę̷̛͓̼̟͍̆̆́͆̾͛͝r̵̹̮̤͓̗̹̈́̎̉͌̾͌̏͑̋̚͝.

“Doctor!” Tagatha screeches when she spots you. “I am so sorry. I’ll bring in the next one right away!”

Your eyes are trapped by the screen and your ears by the radio. “It’s alrig—”

Tagatha grabs the closest person to her and shoves you back into the clinic. The door slams shut just as everything goes dark and silent. (Well, it’s not completely dark, once your eyes adjust you can still see as if the lights were open. Another small perk to this body). Your radio, along with the power, stopped working.

“Oh my!” Your new patient bleats.

“We have generators,” you find yourself saying. “I’m sure the power will come on in a minute.”

The cushions of the chair do little to ease your nerves. You pat your hair, trying to get it in control. A pile of feathers starts forming on the PASTEL-FUCKING PINK FLOORS. T̴̹̜͇̅̅͗͜H̶̰̗̄Ơ̶̡̡̻̗͖̋̎̓̓S̴̨͉̝̻͋̽̆́͆Ẹ̸̡̢͐͐͠ ̷̨͚̞̙̀͒̆̆͊Ŭ̵͕̲̪͇͓͐̚G̷̹̝̦̬͊͒Ḷ̶̭͓̎̏̈͘Y̶͇̟̍̉̚ ̷̟͎͕̞͂͑̂̇À̶͉̍̄̈̚S̸͖̖͕͑̏͛̈́S̶͚̤̼̯̀ ̶̻͆P̷̬̝̉Ä̵͕́͊̌S̸̢͍̆̓͝Ṫ̸͖̲̠̾̉͜͝E̷̺͆L̷͖̏͐́͝ ̶̛̟̽͝P̷̪̔͜I̴̹̥̹͖̮͒́̏͘N̸̳̙̼̾̆̿Ķ̶̟̞̜̉͊̓̂̚ ̵͈̬̃̿̄̈́̋F̵̨̨̼̫̘͘L̸̙̠͎̓̆́O̷̧̘͚͉̤̓O̷̤̟̱̼̤͋̍͐R̷̰̝̓͌̌Ș̵̲̝̈́ “Excuse me?” You will paint this room red with the blood of management.  You tap your foot again, and again, and again. “ . . .Doctor?”

Your neck snaps in her direction, eyes wide and staring.

“The . . . uh . . . the lights are back.”

You blink at your patient—huh, she’s a goat. “I apologize,” you say, smiling. “Please, tell me, what brings you here in this hellish afternoon.”

She holds up her bleeding arm. “It’s been like this since the extermination,” she explains. “Some angle got me. Luckily, I was able to run off before I was finished. I thought it would heal on its own like it usually does but it just hasn’t. It keeps bleeding.”

“Well, angel-induced injuries are my specialty,” you say. Tucked away to the side, a mirror hangs. You catch your reflection, and you blow your hair away from your vision, your red sclerae “This will cost you. Injuries caused by angels are . . . difficult to stitch, but not impossible—not for me at least.”

“Oh, yes.” She bleats one more “Dear God, where are my manners? I’m sorry can I ask for your name?”

Your smile widens. “Of course. I’m—"

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow.

You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.”

“Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?”

You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” He steps closer to take a peek. You watch him as his eyes gloss over your matches then your needle driver, then the alcohol lamp. His smile wobbles when he lands on the syringe.

You move the tray, dropping it down on the little cart by the examination chair.

“There’s no need to worry.” You beam at him. “I have the steadiest hands in this city.”

“Hmmmm,” he says. “You must be the other doctor then.”

“Not at all.” You point to your uniform, where the initial ‘NP’ is embroidered next to your name. “Just the nurse practitioner.”

He takes a closer look and reads your name. “Then I have no reason to fret. None at all! In my experience, doctors usually have their noses buried in their books. It’s the nurses that actually get the hands-on experience.” Alastor’s hands move when he talks. “What’s such a talented practitioner doing in such a dinged-up clinic?”

“Management caught me in the morgue dissecting the dead—It’s how I practice my stitches.”

“Really, now?”

You bark a laugh. “Not at all—I’m far too smart to get caught.”

“A witty sense of humor and a steady hand! I am in good hands, indeed.”

You take a seat on the rolling stool. “Yes, yes,” you say, waving your wrist. “You make fine compliments, Sir. I’ll be sure to be extra gentle.” You point towards the examination chair. “But, please hurry to the chair. You’re dripping blood on my floor.”

Alastor glances down. His eyebrows furrow as he glares at where the blood seeps from his sleeve . . . almost . . . almost as if he’s angry. “My apologies,” he says, allowing his blood to drip to the floor.

Alastor shrugs off his coat. It’s rare to see such a dark red—only a few choose such a color. You hum. Alastor is a well-dressed gentleman. Lovely. Those are your favorite kind. He drapes his coat over the spare chair, ignoring the coat racks the clinic provides.

You turn away and wheel yourself closer to one of the drawers on the counter. It takes two attempts until you find the stash of sterile gloves. “Take your seat when you’re ready,” you say. “I’ll take a look once you are.” You place the gloves on the little green cart, right next to your tray.

Alastor takes his seat, landing with an audible ‘humph’. He smiles at you, sleeves rolled and arm ready. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You hold your palm out. “May I?”

His smile wobbles—it’s a small change in expression that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking. “Of course.”

Along his forearm, a long and sharp cut wounds him. The sight of grime that covers the opened abrasions makes you inwardly cringe. You need to clean these as soon as possible. “Why was this not checked sooner?” You rest his hands on the armrest and use your foot to bring the cart closer. “This looks old, and not at all like a freshly deep cut. I prefer it when patients come to me with fresh wounds.”

You grab a bowl with distilled water and pour in a sterile solution. “I assumed it would heal on its own,” he tells you. “It was quite a surprise when it did not.”

“I need to clean this before you die of infection.” You dip his arm into the bowl. He remains silent, but you feel the tension of his muscles under your fingers. “Hopefully there will be no next time, but just in case, next time, please don’t wait a month.”

He laughs, and there, you faintly see it—a twitch in his eye. “It was only a week actually.”

You smile to yourself. “I’d prefer it if it was only a few hours.” You dry his arm with a soft towel, his arm still tensed underneath your touch. “There, much better.”  You release your hold to go to a shelf filled with different labeled vials and select the one you need. With the clean syringe, you draw the contents of the vial. “You’ll feel a bit of a pinch,” you say. You tap its side. “It’s morphine— wouldn’t want you screaming and writhing”

You study his face for a second. There’s just that same dismissively polite smile.

“You can look away if you wish,” you tell him. “It’s why we pin such . . . er . . .interesting decorations around. . . . May I?”

You feel it again when Alastor inches his arm closer. His muscles tense under your touch. It’s almost as if he wishes to pull away. You keep your hold feather-light, but firm.

“Are you a hunter by any chance?” you ask. You don’t prick him—not yet. Not when tension coils in your hold.

“You could describe it that way,” he says, chuckling like he’s told a humorous joke. (You don’t understand why.)

“I figured you were.”

Alastor slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You inject the morphine into his skin, right inside the soft pink tissue. Good. Alastor relaxes when he speaks, it seems. “I do love a good hunt,” he says. “How ever did you know.”

You release your hold and discard the syringe. “Your hands are rough,” you tell him. “And hunters always have this silly notion that injuries magically heal given enough time—along with farmers, actually. Although, farmers are usually much more deluded.”

He flashes that same polite smile. “I'm guessing you’re not a hunter then?”

“How ever did you know?”

You watch his eyes flicker to your palms as you re-arrange the needles. “Delicate hands.”

You flash the same polite smile right back at him. You take a match, and light the alcohol lamp.

Soap spreads all over your palms and up your arm as you scrub your hands. You slip your hands into the sterilized gloves, careful not to contaminate the surface. “I’ll begin now.”

Alastor hums in reply.

You take a scapple and pass it over the flame. You poke him, lightly, but he doesn’t react. Satisfied, you cut back fibrous tissue underneath the skin. You replace the scapple with a needle driver. There was a quiet click when you pinch the tiny curved needle. You pass it over the flame as well. “Can you do me a favor? Can you tell me how many stars are on that wall over there?

Alastor turns to look at you, but you block his eyes with your palm, shielding him from your stiches.

“The wall isn’t over here.”

“I assure you, I’m not afraid of a silly needle.”

“I’m sure you are,” you say. “However, you’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. The last three people who said that took one look and started squirming. One even fainted. It makes your life miserable, and my job harder.

He counts.

“Out loud please.”

He does as he’s told, rather reluctantly.

Hands steady and determination set, you pierce the soft pink tissue with your needle The tissue nearest to the surface is always delicate. You’re certain not to catch any fat in your suture, for fat dies, and a loose stitch is useless. “Well, isn’t this fun!” he says. “I really feel nothing.”

Your concentration does not break. “I don’t remember there only being twenty-six stars. I’m positive there are more.”

“Why is someone as talented as you only a nurse practitioner?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a nurse,” you reply, tugging on the needle. “Well . . .we . . . we certainly could be paid more.”

“Why not become an actual doctor then?”

“My father couldn’t afford it. He wouldn’t send me . . . and . . . hmm.” You smoothly pull the suture thread and begin the next stitch. “And I enjoy this.”

He looks down at you. “Is this all you’ll be satisfied with?”

You focus back on your stitching, hiding your glare. You bring your needle underneath the flesh, making sure to catch the soft tissue. You’re doing an uncommon stitch, but it would be a shame to leave a scar. “You sound familiar.”

You pause to look at him, His smile brightens, and it actually looks like a genuine elated smile. “Why, I’m a radio broadcaster. You might have heard me there.”

“Oh yes,” you hum, turning back to your stitching. “Alastor . . . I remember now. The ladies and I listen to your broadcast as we do our crafts.”

“Knitting?”

“I personally prefer embroidery,” you say. “I get to practice my stitching and make beautiful art.” You pull the thread and begin a new one, stitching his skin like they were shoe laces. “You’re quite the humorous gentleman, I must say, and quite a lovely taste in music. We enjoy your broadcast very much”

“Do you have any of your artworks here?” he asks you. “I would be eager to see them.”

“Maybe next time.” You tug the suture, and his laceration snaps to a close. You tie a knot and snip the end. “Unfortunately, I’ve finished your stitches.”

“Next time then.”

You discard your gloves and go back to the shelf with the vials. You fill up another syringe. You jam the needle into his skin, not enough to hurt, just enough to scare him a bit. “To prevent infection.”

He jerks away from you. “What happened to that gentle touch of yours?”

“It’s still a sharp object, Sir. They tend to hurt.” You smirk and carefully clean the remaining blood on the skin around the sutured wound. You take a bandage from your cart and begin wrapping it around his forearm, covering your sutures. “Don’t forget to drink your pills every 8 hours, with a meal in your stomach, preferably. Replace the dressing every three days. You can come back here or if you’re able to do so, you can change them yourself. Any by the good God, please, visit the nearest hospital should this incident repeat.”

Alastor slides off the examination chair. He grabs his coat as if you didn’t just stitch him close. You start packing when you notice him fixing his bow tie, and smoothing his hair. Huh . . .There’s blood on his coat, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Like he’s used to having it there. Like it’s just something he’s learned to live with. “You were wrong by the way.”

“Pardon?”

“It was quite the pleasure to meet you.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part |Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Hello, welcome to the hell that's been plaguing my head. In case you didn't know Belphegor is the ruler of the sloth ring, and she seems to be in charge of medical-related stuff in Hell. I have the story mostly plotted out, it's just a matter of writing it down. If you have any questions, ask away

[vivwritesfics]

I'd Follow You Across The Galaxy

Y/N Skywalker loved her husband. She loved him through everything. Even when he turned to the dark side, she still loved him. But she couldn't be with him. She had her babies to protect. Her husband would follow her across the galaxy.

or

A collection of moments from Y/N and Anakin's relationship, recounted as she travels across the galaxy.

4.1K

Travelling alone through the universe, Y/N Skywalker had a lot of time to think. She thought about her name, how, even though she was still married, she'd have to change it to her maiden name.

She thought of the friends she hadn't seen since the end of the war, the children she had sent off to keep safe, the husband who had died in front of her.

The Clone Wars were something Y/N thought about often. She and her husband had fought side by side. It was when they fell in love. Her favourite thing to think about was when they first met.

“Princess Y/N from Idobaar has been kidnapped yet again,” Obi-Wan said to his Padawan learner. “We are to find her and bring her back to Coruscant. That way the Jedi Council can keep an eye on her,” he said.

Anakin Skywalker had heard of Princess Y/N from Idobaar before. He had heard stories of her beauty, but also of her recklessness. If she was kidnapped, it wasn’t because guards weren’t doing their jobs, but because she had wandered away and gotten herself into trouble.

Obi-Wan and Anakin only took a small ship to rescue the princess. Something that would allow them to move almost undetected through the stars. They found the vessel she was being kept on and made their way onboard.

The Jedi had to remain undetected for the safety of the princess. With the help of R2, they snuck their way through the ship, easily locating the cell Princess Y/N was supposed to be kept in. The key word there being ‘supposed’. It was empty, the door already open. A destroyed droid was beside the door, its blaster missing.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” said Obi-Wan as he looked at the droid.

Blasts from further down the hall. The Jedi unsheathed their lightsabers and took off towards the sounds.

It was a blood bath. Or, it would have been if droids could bleed. Princess Y/N of Idobaar was ducking into alcoves, emerging only to shoot at droids. As Obi-Wan and Anakin rushed towards her, a droid had a lucky shot. The princess cried out as it hit her arm and ducked behind the alcove.

The two Jedi took care of the droid’s Y/N had yet to destroy. Once they were finished with, Anakin put his lightsaber away and walked towards the Princess. “Princess Y/N?” He asked, offering her his hand.

“Who in the world are you?” She asked, accepting the help and getting to her feet. Her hand held her injured arm, keeping it close to her body.

Anakin took only seconds to observe it. There was no medical droid onboard their small ship; they would need to get her to an infirmary as soon as they got back to Coruscant. “I am Anakin Skywalker—”

“A Jedi?” Asked Y/N interrupting him.

More droids were approaching, that was easy to tell from the readily approaching footsteps. The Jedi wasted no time in moving Y/N along, running her back towards their ship. There was no point them moving under the cover of stealth, not when Y/N had already caused so much commotion.

As they ran she blasted, using her uninjured arm to shoot behind her. Obi-Wan and Anakin did their bit in cutting down droids and protecting the princess. They got her back onto their ship with no more injury and flew her back to Coruscant.

Of course, they were followed. Little fighter ships followed them, but Anakin was quick to take care of it. It was his flying skills that caught Y/N’s eye first, he would always say after this.

"Anything on the scanner?" Y/N asked her ship. It really was an incredible piece of engineering, a vehicle with a personality of it's own. Ship made a noise, something only Y/N could decipher.

Nothing. No Imperial Star Destroyers behind her.

"How about we stop at the nearest planet and get some rations?"

Ship made another noise.

"If you think you can hold out that long before we have to refuel," she replied, patting her steering mechanism.

Before Y/N met her husband, she couldn't fly a ship. He was the reason she learnt.

“So, I’m to be kept on Coruscant as a prisoner?” Y/N yelled, staring at Mace Windu.

The Jedi Master sent her an unimpressed look. He had better things to do than look after a spoiled princess. “Your parents have requested that you be kept here under the watchful eye of the Jedi,” he replied, clearly fed up with her already. Y/N seemed to have that affect on people.

Anakin watched from a distance as Mace Windu got more and more annoyed with her. Never angry, though. He was a Jedi Master, after all. “We have assigned Obi-Wan Kenobi and his Padawan to protect you,” Anakin heard him say.

“You mean the guys that saved me?!” Y/N suddenly shrieked. But then her expression changed. She thought about it for only a few seconds  before nodding. “Yeah, okay.”

Looking past Y/N, Mace Windu summoned Anakin forward. The Padawan walked towards Y/N and bowed. "Princess," he said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. "It is good to see you again."

Y/N just gave the Jedi a look. She grinned, turned on her heel and walked away. Anakin followed her silently, his hands clasped behind his back. “So, Padawan learner, where is your master?” She asked him as they stepped into the elevator.

“The Jedi council has sent him on a mission,” he answered. “I will be your protector.”

Protector, Anakin liked the sound of that. He would be the one to protect Princess Y/N of Idobaar.

"I don't need a protector," she spat back as the elevator arrived at her new room. The room Y/N didn't want. "I shouldn't even be here on Coruscant!"

All Anakin could do was watch as she stormed into her room and pulled the door shut behind her.

Anakin looked around the foyer. It was where all of Y/N things had been placed, her possessions from Idobaar brought over to make her feel more at home and comfortable. One bag was open and full of dresses. Funny, Anakin couldn't imagine Y/N in a dress.

The first time he'd met Y/N, she'd been wearing a shirt and trousers, a holster strapped to her leg. Her outfit now was much the same, just without the holster.

Anakin looked to her room. Being a Jedi he could feel her in there, except he couldn't. He ran at the door, throwing it open as he went. If Anakin had lost her already, he'd never hear the end of it.

Princess Y/N of Idobaar was nowhere to be seen. Her bed had been stripped, her sheets tied to the bed post and hanging out of the open windows. Running over, Anakin's eyes followed the sheets to the roof of the slightly smaller building just below them.

Throwing his head back, Anakin let out a groan and jumped out of the window after her.

Y/N had her arms out, balancing her way across the roof. Her steps were slow, steady as she concentrated on staying up there.

There was a noise overhead, but Y/N wasn't concentrating on that. She had hours before her Jedi protector noticed she was gone.

But then he landed in front of her. Y/N stumbled back as he did so, but the Jedi was quick to grab a hold of her. "You really haven't spent a lot of time around Jedi, have you?" Asked Anakin as he kept her upright on the roof.

"So what if I haven't?" She glared up at him, but Anakin didn't release his hold. Y/N softened her expression. "Okay, fine. I don't want to be stuck here on Coruscant until my parents want me home. I just want some freedom before I'm trapped," she said.

What happened the last time she got some freedom? She got herself kidnapped.

And then, Anakin had a plan. "What if I took you flying?"

"Flying?"

Anakin nodded his head.

"What, so just outside of the planet?" It would take maybe five minutes at most.

Anakin just gave her a look.

***

Y/N loved flying. When she was younger and her parents took her on diplomatic trips, her favourite part was travelling there. Y/N sat in the cockpit, watching as Anakin flew the ship. He made it look so easy.

"I've never flown a ship before," Y/N confessed as she watched him.

A grin covered Anakin's face as he began to show off, manoeuvring around other ships. When he got to a wide open space, Anakin stopped the ship and pushed his chair back. "Want to give it a try?"

Y/N sat.

Where did she sit? Why, on Anakin's lap, of course. He helped her to fly it, taking things nice and slow. Anakin had her doing his manoeuvres from before, just at a much slower pace.

He let her drive until they were coming in for a landing. That was when Anakin had to take over once again. Once they were back on Coruscant, Y/N turned towards him. "Nice lesson, Jedi," she said with a giggle. "Maybe we can do this again while I'm stuck here."

Anakin stood from his seat. He followed behind Y/N as she left the ship. "Will you stay on Coruscant now, your highness?" He asked her as he held the door open.

"I'll think about it," she answered, stepping into the elevator.

That was a large number of years ago. So much had changed since then. When Y/N thought about things like that, about how things were all those years ago, it hurt.

It hurt being alone, drifting through the universe. It hurt not having a co pilot to keep her company. Ship was the only friend she had now that her husband was dead.

Y/N checked the coordinates. "Uh, Ship? Why are we heading to Tatooine?"

This time, when Ship made his noises, Y/N couldn't figure them out. Tatooine was fast approaching, but Ship wasn't slowing down. "Give me control!" Y/N cried, sitting back in her seat. "Ship! We're gonna crash!"

And crash they did. When Ship hit the sand, Y/N went flying forward, through the windshield and out into the desert.

Stranded.

They were stranded. Y/N laid in the sand. The Tatooine sun beat down on her, frying her. But she couldn't feel it - she was out cold.

***

Y/N woke up with a panicked start. She had been attacked, hadn't she? There was no way Ship would have just crashed other wise. She looked around at where she was, at the person in the corner of the cave. "Oh my God," she whispered, pushing herself to a sitting position.

It was somebody she had not seen for a great many years, somebody she'd grown to care for like a friend. She'd grown to miss him over the last ten years, too. "Obi-Wan?"

The last time Y/N had seen the man, he hadn't looked quite so haggard. The last time she had seen him, he had saved her and her babies from the clutches of Darth Vader

"That is a name I have not heard for many years," answered Kenobi as he stood up. "Now, what are you doing here on Tatooine, your highness?"

Y/N shook her head from side to side. "I don't know. Ship and I have been drifting for years, landing when we need to and avoiding Vader and his men at all costs. He suddenly landed me here with no word."

"Well, at any rate, I am glad to see you."

Obi-Wan gave her what rations he had and something to drink. "I'll see what I can do for Ship," he said, but Y/N knew what he was thinking. If Anakin was here, he'd be able to fix Ship in a heartbeat.

There was a question Y/N had been dying to ask Obi-Wan since the moment she woke up in his cave. One question she was was terrified of hearing the answer of.

"Obi-Wan, what happened to Luke and Leia? Have you seen them at all?"

Obi-Wan took his time answering her. Which filled her with anxiety.

"Let me show you," he finally said and Y/N let out a breath.

Kenobi took Y/N away from his cave, to a cliff. They sat themselves on the little ledge and Obi-Wan pulled out his Macrobinoculars. He looked first, making sure the little boy was still there, playing with his toys.

And then he passed the Macrobinoculars to Y/N. "Right there," he said and pointed.

When Y/N looked, she let out a gasp. There he was, the little boy she hadn't seen since the day he was born. Y/N watched him play in the Tatooine sand with his toy that looked a little bit like Ship. He was playing just outside of the moisture farm Y/N had visited only once before.

He was with good people, people that had taken care of Y/N in her hour of need.

"No, master Jedi, nobody is trying to kill me," said Y/N as she marched back to her room in Coruscant. It had been her home for a year now, with her Jedi protectors following her every move.

Y/N had spoken to her parents only a handful of times since they'd sent her to Coruscant. They were paranoid and wouldn't have her home any time soon. She missed her home, missed the palace and the friends she had there.

"Your highness, please," Obi-Wan began. "We just ask you be cautious. Our job is to protect you in any way we can; please don't make our job difficult."

Y/N let out a sigh. "Fine," she mumbled, sparing a glance at Anakin. "I'll be on my best behaviour."

The next few days passed somewhat normally for Y/N. When she left her room, Anakin was right behind her, close enough to touch. But he didn't; he kept his distance. That was the Jedi way.

But then, three days after Obi-Wan sat her down to speak with her, things started going wrong. The Jedi believed that, with Y/N safely in her room and with two guards outside of the door, they would be able to go to Jedi council meetings. Y/N, too, thought she was safe for that little while.

As Anakin returned to Y/N's room, he sensed something. Something that wasn't right. He ran into Y/N's room, lightsaber drawn. Y/N let out a gasp as Anakin cut off the hand of the person at the window. They were on the other side, hole cut in the glass for their gun.

"Holy Shit!" Y/N cried, turning to face the Jedi. "What happened?"

Anakin's breath was short as he stood with his lightsaber held above him, looking for the assailant. Before he could answer Y/N, he was jumping out of the window, chasing after the person trying to kill her. "Anakin!" Y/N cried as she leaned over the now broken window, watching as he disappeared between the speeders.

Okay, so maybe somebody was trying to kill her.

The Jedi council set Obi-Wan on the job of finding her assassin. While Obi-Wan worked, Anakin was tasked with looking after Y/N. "We should get off of Coruscant," he said as he sat on Y/N's bed.

"But where can we go?" She asked him. As much as she agreed, Y/N couldn't think of a single place safer for her. She couldn't go back to Idobaar, not when her parent's didn't think it was safe. But then she thought of somewhere. "My parent's are close to the Queen of Naboo. Maybe she'd host us," she suggested.

Anakin sat there, watching her as she packed her bags. She was beautiful, but Anakin had always known that. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her - it made his work as a Jedi very difficult.

The Padawan was hellbent on protecting her. He carried her things to their transport, said goodbye to Obi-Wan and took her to Naboo.

Senator Amidala was there to greet them when they arrived. She greeted Y/N with an embrace and gave Anakin a polite hello.

Naboo was where Y/N and Anakin camped out until Obi-Wan had caught her attempted killer. It was warm, sunny, peaceful. They sat by the lake, watching the sunset. They ate a decadent feast, but only once they'd taken the food up to the room Y/N had been placed in.

But, while they were on Naboo, Anakin was having nightmares. Y/N had never noticed before, but with only a thin wall between them, it was hard not to.

"What is it, Ani?" She asked one morning. When she woke up, she saw him outside of her room, on the veranda.

They were stood so close, but not yet close enough to touch.

"It's my mother," Anakin answered, staring at the water in front of them. "I keep dreaming of her, having nightmares."

His mother. Y/N knew the story, of how Qui-Gon Jinn had found him and his mother, slaves on Tatooine, how he had placed a bet with the man who owned him and had taken Anakin to learn the ways of the Jedi.

"What if we went to Tatooine?" Y/N suggested. "You have the power to free her, now."

Y/N said a farewell to the Queen of Naboo and they were on their way, flying to Tatooine. It was a peaceful trip, Y/N and Anakin sitting side by side, still close enough to touch but not quite. If she moved her hand even an inch, she would have been touching him. Would he be warm to the touch, his skin burning beneath her touch? Would his hands be rough and calloused from the years of Jedi training, or would his touch be soft?

When they landed on Tatooine, Y/N followed Anakin. He spoke to people in a tongue she couldn't understand, leaving Y/N to stand beside him, watching the interaction.

The thing that used to own Anakin directed them to a moisture farm. That was where the man who now owned Anakin's mother would be. And that meant that was where his mother would be.

They set off, heading out towards the moisture farm.

When they got there, they were met with the nicest people and the worst news. Shmi married the man who bought her and had been living with him and his son at the moisture farm. But then she was kidnapped by Tusken Raiders and nobody had seen her since.

"I have to free her," said Anakin as soon as they told him what had happened to his mother.

The suns were setting as Y/N looked at the Jedi she loved. No, not loved, not yet. "Ani," she whispered, reaching towards him. But, before her fingertips could meet his skin, she pulled away.

"Stay here, Y/N, please. They'll look after you here; they're good people," he said.

But Y/N wasn't quite ready to let him go yet. Not without a proper goodbye. Y/N grabbed the front of his Jedi robes and pulled him in. She pressed her lips to his and closed her eyes.

Taken by surprise, Anakin was stood there for just a moment before his body reacted. His hands settled on her waist and he closed his eyes, kissing her back. It was slow and sweet and tender. It was everything the two of them had been waiting for.

When Anakin pulled away, he reached up and pushed her hair out of her eyes. He didn't say anything as he left. Y/N watched him walk away. She waited until he was out of sight before returning to the moisture farm.

"What about Leia?" Asked Y/N as soon as she put down the Macrobinoculars. But then she shook her head. "It's better if I don't know."

It was one of Y/Ns greatest fears, Vader finding her and discovering the existence of their children.

"Why here?" Y/N asked as she passed back the Macrobinoculars back to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan looked at her. "I thought it best if he grew up with family," he answered.

She spared one last look at Luke through the Macrobinoculars, still playing with his toy ship.

While Obi-Wan helped her to get Ship repaired, she hid in the cave he called him. It was a quick ordeal, Obi-Wan using Jedi mind tricks to speed the process along. He wouldn't use them for anything else, but she was desperate to get away.

It was two weeks before Y/N was flying away on Ship once again. She patted the steering mechanism, happy to have her only friend back. "Get us out of here, Ship," she said.

Ship made a series of noises. "Thanks, pal," Y/N whispered as she looked at their surroundings, the familiarity of space.

Until she crashed on Tatooine, Y/N had managed to keep track of Vader and his fleet of ships. But now, she had no idea where they were. She couldn't tell if she was flying towards them or away from them.

Vader. She remembered the day she met him. But that wasn't a story for right now. So, she thought about Anakin, about the first time he told her he loved her.

Obi-Wan was in danger. Who better to save him than his padowan learner? But Anakin didn't think so.

He had a princess to protect, and he was going to protect her with his life. Besides, they were on Tatooine and Obi-Wan was on Geonosis.

Ever since Y/N had first come to Coruscant, Obi-Wan had been kind to her. He'd protected her with his life, and it was about time she did the same.

So, she thanked Cliegg, Owen and Beru. Whether Anakin was following her or not, she marched over to their ship. "You shouldn't have taught me how to fly," she mumbled when Anakin walked onto the ship behind her, the door shutting after him.

Anakin grabbed onto a chair as Y/N flew the ship. She wasn't very good - there was a reason her future vessel was going to be something that could practically fly itself.

He took over, taking control of the ship from her. "You're not gonna turn us around, are you?" She asked, giving him the pilots seat.

Anakin shook his head. "As long as you promise to let me take the lead, we'll go save Obi-Wan. Just, stay behind me and stay out of trouble," he said. Y/N nodded, reaching for his lightsaber. But Anakin had the force - he could sense it as she reached. "No!" He called and Y/N quickly withdrew her hand.

It wasn't long beside they arrived on Geonosis. Anakin tried to be stealthy, but that wasn't Y/N's specialty. She took down the first droid she came to, stole its blaster and went charging in, head first.

Anakin couldn't stop the small grin crossing his face as he followed her. His lightsaber was drawn as he fought of droids, Y/N continuing to push forward.

And then she found herself on the droid assembly line. Jumping over and around parts, taking out droids as they were being built. It shouldn't have been fun, but it was. And Anakin could tell. He couldn't help but being distracted as she punched a droid, knocking off the head that hadn't yet been properly attached.

But then they got themselves captured. Anakins lightsaber was knocked out of his hand and several finished droids surrounded Y/N. They were well and truly screwed, blasters pushed against their backs as they were forced to walk forward.

Their hands were chained together and they were placed on a chariot. If they weren't about to die, it would have been both magnificent and romantic. But they were, almost quite literally, being marched to their deaths.

"I love you," he said before they were paraded out in front of the crowed. "I'll do whatever I can to protect you."

Y/N tried to step closer. She looked up at him as she leaned towards him. As she did, Anakin dipped his head, pressing his lips to hers. It was slow, gentle, and so full of love. His lips slotted against hers oh so perfectly, soft and pillowy.

Intoxicating. He was intoxicating. They were about to die, and Y/N couldn't think of a better way to go.

"I'd do anything for you," whispered Anakin as they were paraded around. "I'd follow you across the galaxy," he said.

Y/N leaned up to kiss him once more. "If I'm travelling across the galaxy, you'll be right there beside me."

It was hard to keep track of where Darth Vader could have been, Y/N realised as the great, large ship appeared in front of them. It was much bigger than her own, its tractor beam easily pulling them in.

He had found her.

[missmarveledsblog]

Never doubt the Matchmaker ( jake seresin x reader )

Summary : nat phoenix trace was well known by her friends and coworkers as being a excellent matchmaker although jake seresin thinks it all bullshit till he finally let her set him up and jake learns never to doubt the matchmaker ...

warnings : goofy , fluffy , miscommunication sort of rom com feel to it , picture doesn't describe the reader just cover art i started making for fics

Natasha trace  was a woman of many talents , she was strong , determined , and calculated . all good qualities that made her one of best female pilots but she also had another talent one that didn't even remotely have to do with the navy and it was her match making skills . when she disclosed the information it got laughs  , didn't bother her she laughed along with them .  then one by one it would start off joking then hinting to outright asking. first it was fanboy then bob then javy then rooster. only one she didn't get asked by was payback giving the man was already married and jake who still thought it was all  crock .  she didn’t really concern herself with what bagman had to say the results spoke for themself .  fan boy was living with the barista she set him up with , bob was married to the animal shelter volunteer , javy was still going strong with the yoga instructor while  rooster only began seeing the nurse it was still good and boy was he already gone . the results spoke for themselves as always but jake still a skeptic , still ready to shoot it all down of course . 

“ he’s just afraid of finding the one is all “ rooster laughed .

“ i mean i don’t doubt your skill but hangman finding the one is a bit far fetched “ bob shook his head amused in the constantly denial of the match making but in fairness they all were  til she did her thing. 

“ don’t worry bagman i wouldn’t subject any woman to deal with you “  phoenix rolled her eyes . 

“ because its not working i mean rooster would fall in love with a rock” he countered as the brunette exclaimed out a “ hey “ 

 “ why does it bother you so much , you feeling left out , a little lonely “ she taunted . 

“ never lonely phoenix i can get a girl to keep me warm at night any time” he winked  taking his shot potting the ball . 

“ why don’t you let her set you up then “ bob suggested . 

“ he’s right you think it’s fake then prove it “ javy added . 

“ ain’t you suppose to be on my side here?” 

“ come on man what have you got to lose”  rooster smirked . 

“ you know what i’ll bit just to show you i’m right” he crossed his arms looking to the female pilot.

“Fine  i’ll set you up bagman “ nat shook her head . 

It had been weeks since the whole agreement in the hard deck and jake constantly being the one to let her know the fact . then like an angel to answer all there prayers she found the one , the one that would have jake seresin eating his words .  then one day during lunch jake was looking at text of details for a date saturday . he promised to give the woman a chance   , knowing full well it would end like all his dates do  and that part wasn’t so bad .  He’d gotten the womans number striking up a conversation , she could least do that only thing was when he asked for selfie she would reply later , later never came then it was “ i forgot next” which didn’t fill him with much fate but still keeping his word he continues to chat . saturday he was on the beach  a regular tradition now playing dog fight football as the guys asked about his  date. 

“ i mean we text but no selfies so not promising “ he called as nat shook her head. 

“ she hot bagman not that it matters “ she rolled her eyes . 

“ all chicks say there friends are hot , i’m just being honest” he smirked . 

“ not al about looks “ rooster pointed out . 

“ says the guy with the hot nurse girlfriend , you telling me if she wasn’t attractive to you in the smallest bit you would be with her ?” he asked . 

“ yeah because of the person , she is” . 

“ again not that it matters but y/n is a hotty and well able to handle you “ nat scoffed . 

“ yeah we’ll see about that phoenix”. 

When he got home  still texting his date asking her what she was going to wear so he would be able find her .  all he got back was long red dress probably something a grandma would wear  he didn’t know why but that was what he thought . then he got ready   thinking the worse as time got closer , like it was set up in a different way , a ploy for phoenix to get back at him and set him up with some lady that had twenty cars the generic mad woman crossing his mind .  he could slip out early that was for sure  although javy was telling him it would be ok also agreed to call with fake emergency. He was glad he agreed to meet somewhere else because if this was a trick least there would be no witnesses that was for sure . checking over least he looked good   as he looked down at his dress pants that fit snugly on his legs of the light blue almost whitish blue shirt that made his chest and arms look great . he was ready to prove natasha trace wrong and make a  lady happy to get the jake seresin experience . he was sure it was going to be a disaster , some sort of catfish situation even though he had yet to she her face expectations were not high. He stood outside  the bar it was classy  place so who he thought he would meet would stand out a mile off already building an image of some desperate woman .   parking and taking one look at his phone both message one to tell him she was at the bar and another from javy to have good time but he was also on standby if needed . heading in there was one woman at the bar in a red dress , long that stopped at her shins , her long legs crossed with a pair of black open toed heels   , spagetti string straps as she looked around she was gorgeous. Maybe if his  date failed he could ? . 

She couldn’t believe she let natasha trace do her whole match maker thing knowing how it was going to fail , from texting the guy it was ok nothing special didn’t seem like he was into it either so least she wouldn’t be the only one who was going to go into it with less expectations , plus she could only imagine what she was going to meet not that she didn’t find  nat’s flyboy friends attractive because they were but they lacked a little something  .  she herself worked as a mechanic not as glorious or as dangerous as  the navy but she and nat bonded over being in a male dominated area even still she was confused as the receptionist . now here she was sitting waiting for some stranger  when she could be in her shop finishing the shit ton of cars that needed to be fixed but maybe a few drinks would be ok  , help take the busy week off her shoulders . one so busy she kept forgetting to send a selfie and then she thought it would be more fun to keep the mystery going . she text him to let him know he was at the bar barely flickering her gaze  when he text to say  he was outside well here it was. 

“ showtime “ she winked to the bartender downing the drink waiting for whatever disaster  that was coming her way . 

“Erm y/n “ the  southern drawl clear his throat she turned to raise her hand. 

“ over here” she smiled ok , so he wasn’t tragic looking maybe it was shallow but hey he was gorgeous blonde so she wasn’t complaining . 

“ well darling nice to meet you “ he beamed , he’d give nat this one she was the hotty at the bar . 

“ jake?  Nice to meet you too “ she held her hand out almost swallowed in his own , lifting it to his lips and kissing her hand .

“ what are you drinking ?” he nudged . 

“ just beer , southern boy huh” her own accent coming out more as she talked . 

“ austin born and raised , you ?” he took the seat  noting the slight disappointed glance of bartender since he came over. 

“ dallas , would you like to go sit down and get some food because i for one am hungry ?”  

“ lead the way beautiful whatever you want it on me “  he beamed holding his hand out and letting her take him anywhere and it would be anywhere damn she was like a siren luring him to sea .  following the sway of her hips like they were personal hypnotizing him and maybe they were , pulling the seat out putting the full gentlemen charm because shit she had him hooked with her body already . 

“ so jake from austin what made you ask nat for her skills “ she asked looking up  ever the gentlemen pulling her chair out and pushing it in for her as she looked up through her lashes at the blonde . 

“ honest answer?” to which she nodded .  “ honestly i wanted to see if she was good as other say kinda a skeptic but maybe not so much “ he winked as her  head tipped back and wondrous sound of her laugh came out. 

“ oh my god same i only agreed because she set my cousin up with ostrich , duck some bird dude “ she laughed . 

“ rooster?” 

“ YES !  i haven’t met him yet but my cousin  ironic dove is singing his praise then when she told me she got a perfect match not gonna lie since your being honest and all but i said no for while stuff at works been well hectic “ she shook her head. 

“ what is you do , you never said in your texts plus you owe me a selfie or two “ he teased . 

“ a mechanic actually while other girls where playing with barbies i was playing with tools and hotwheels i’m only girl of a bunch of boys so i guess when i wanted to be one of them safe to say my mom was little let down to say the least “ she chuckled . 

“ i’m only boy of bunch of girls i’m second born though “ 

“I’m the baby  , i’m actually working in a shop owned by my two older brothers and top at my job not as exciting as being a aviator for the navy though” she winked . 

“ nah i’m impressed least i know if my truck ever  has trouble i know who will take care of it for me” he smirked leaning forward honestly he hated how much he was going to be hearing nat gloat because he was already hooked  this woman was perfect although she was a decade younger but fuck she was making him feel like a teenager.

The date was good he laughed a lot she was funny , she seemed interested in knowing him and   kept the conversation light nothing was felt pushed or awkward . it was perfect date  he hated he would have to tell phoenix  as much he didn’t want that night to end ,  they even made out in the back of his truck  so why was it two days after the date and everything was radio silent . only thing that he was told was she got home safe and would contact him again .  he never had that much fun on a date especially one that didn’t end in sex , he wanted to be respectful , he also didn’t wanna text and come off desperate so he was wondering what hell went wrong .  maybe he could ask nat and swallow his pride at the fact she was good but clearly not good if he was ghosted . 

She wondered what went wrong did she come on too  strong , did he not like her .  the date was perfect and yet she never  got text back after she told him she got home safe .  it was all good even making out in the back of his truck til he stopped it now she was slightly annoyed he ghosted her .  burying herself in the overflowing work she could of been doing instead  when the familiar sound of an engine . to see natasha trace coming her way all smile probably ready to hear about how it all went . 

“ i’m mad at you “ y/n huffed tying her hair up before diving back into the hood of the corvette that needed dire attention.  

“ what did he do ?” she groaned now holding the coffee she brought like a peace offering instead of an early celebration . 

“ ghosted me  , i thought we had a great time�� , even made out in his stupid truck and boom nothing even when i offered him to follow me “ she grumbled looking up . 

“ wait what javy said jake had great time i was here to rub it in both of you “ . 

“ well i’ll do that rubbing in your matchmaking skill ain’t all that .. but i love you and you didn’t know this was gonna happen so i guess i ain’t actually mad at you… my vagina might be “ she laughed finally taking the coffee. 

“ i’m gonna find out what going on cause something is  not adding up “ nat brows furrowed as she head off ignoring the protest that came from y/n mouth . 

She couldn’t make sense of it , according to javy he was smitten  like really smitten so what the hell was going on .  she knew y/n was younger than jake by ten years was that it but then she was thinking jake would date younger than himself maybe not that gap but again it didn’t seem to bother him . it wasn’t even to do with the match making anymore ..ok maybe it was could that be it , he was ghosting y/n in his own need to be right.  Now she was pissed  as she drove a little faster ,  parking her car and storming down the halls. She didn’t even look at the guys when she got to jake staring up , eyes narrowed  and hands on hips . 

“ what is your problem how come your ghosting y/n ,  she said she had a great time with you and what  is it your need to be right because that fucked if you don’t like her least be a man and tell her “ she gritted . 

“ what are you talking about  , she ghosted me nat  she should grow up and tell you the truth “ he scoffed . 

“ she looked upset although she wouldn’t show it …  she thinks you don’t like her she offered  her place ?” nat said even more confused .

“ believe it or not i was being a gentlemen because i actually did like the her.. The date “ he corrected pulling his phone out to show the fact he ended up texting her couple times . 

“ oh you stupid man , it concerning your still flying that not her the name is similar but you’ve been texting another woman no wonder she didn’t answer … idiots “ she scoffed as jake looked at his phone he didn’t even realize that name was still in his phone  he just saw the first three letters and was currently cursing the device in his hand .  it all connecting in his mind only for rooster to say it all out loud. 

“ shit you actually ghosted her after all” .

“ where she work  cause she not gonna believe me if i text her now ?” he asked chasing after nat  who honestly was done with life at the moment. 

“ if i  tell you , you gotta wear a shirt that says i was right for three nights of my choosing in hard deck ?” nat mused even though she was gonna help him either way but didn’t mean she couldn’t have fun too . 

“ you know what i’ll let you have six , come on “ he pleaded  ready to dart out knowing he’s morning was free . 

“  don't make me regret this “ nat smirked texting the address . “ make sure you check the right message “ she called as he ran off flipping her off . 

 he didnt know what it was but he was hooked on this girl like some sort of spell was cast on him  . he usually didn't bother texting after the fuck boy tendency  was strong he knew it himself but shit he was so disappointed and turned out to be his fault his fuckboy ways or some sort of self sabotage  .  already losing something so good before it even started he wanted to delete all the contacts in his phone maybe change his number start a new leaf. He was just hoping he wasn’t too late as he got into his truck nat sent another message telling him  the  coffee and baked good  peace offering to bring  as well as his size  maybe he would wear the shirt  an extra night for that. It was a race for what he didn’t know but he wanted to find out.   

She was tired but finally she gotten on top of the overflow of repairs  ones even her brothers were impressed she managed to pull of maybe the frustration of being ghosted was working in her favor , she was ready to grab her coat and head out . 

“ hey kiddo truck coming in can you sort this while i sort something in the office” her brother mikey called . 

“ you gotta be shitting me i’m heading out deal with it yourself” she scoffed. 

“ do it and i’ll give you rest of week off and next week  paid and overtime?” he said holding phone to his ear . 

“ fine after this i’m out for a week and half   “ she rolled her eyes throwing her things down tying her hair up . 

“ yeah she going  i think a date would be a good payment huh trace” he chuckled heading into the office. 

She was huffing and puffing but hey time of and extra money she could be happy with , what she wasn’t happy with was a tall blonde aviator standing by the truck . 

“ we’re closed” 

“ says your open “ he nodded to the neon sign. 

“ busy should of called a head.. Or do you have a phone?” she scoffed hand on her hip  , burning hole in his head with the fiery gaze she had on him . 

“ can we talk please ? i got your favorites here” he held up the container. 

“ you could of talked to me before , my brother is in there i will not hesitate to get the bat from his car “ 

“  hear him out … heres your stuff and thanks for screwing up so i can get a date with nat “ mikey called placing her stuff at the door before heading in and locking the door . 

“ traitor “ she mumbled taking her bag and  only see her car keys missing . “ son of a bitch “ she grumbled .  But it wasn’t going to get her down  no come hell or nothing she would walk her ass home . so she did turning out away completely not even sparing the blonde a second look or care if he was following her or not. 

“ come on please let me explain “ jake called. 

“ explain nothing if nat sent you here tell her it’s all good “ she waved over her shoulder not only was  she pissed she was no embarrassed thinking he owned her explanation .  which he did but one of his own violation and not one her friend force him to make .   she heard his booths hitting the asphalt , she could hear the panting  behind her shaking her head she kept walking . 

“ come on please” 

“ you ghost me , i practical ask you to sleep with me i thought you were doing the whole gentlemen thing  but turned out you just didn’t like me which is fine i mean not everyone gonna like me but shit when are guys gonna be honest and be like look i ain’t feeling it   or some shit “ she snapped not caring about the group of guys walking by .  

“ dude you blind “ one commented as she just groaned walking past them all . 

“ hey hey  i did want to ok and i was trying to be a gentlemen , i wanted to take you in backseat of the pickup if i could “ he yelled only instead of the group of guys passing it was a group of elderly women . 

“ pig “ one scoffed as they hurried passed. 

“ i thought you ghosted me ok …i maybe even worse asshole to admit that i was texting the wrong number because the names were similar which i’m going to have to text that person the same thing cause i’m pretty sure she married now” he winced as she finally stopped walking . 

“ you want me believe and if i did it worse that it was a mistake dude it ok we didn’t click i mean i thought we did … oh shit “ she said as he held his phone up showing her the messages her name but the contact was similar . “ is it safe for you to be flying “ she asked .

 “ yes i  made a dumb mistake but my eyesight is fine “ he snorted shaking his head nat previous statement . 

“ so you didn’t ghost me ?” she blinked up slightly  still trying to piece the new information slightly relieved since lets be real being ghosted is never fun . 

“ i didn’t ghost you be a fool to  ,  if  your in a forgiving mood since i cleared it up would you maybe wanna go on another date ?” he stood not the usually confident or cocky way he was used to he was almost shy when asking a definite new feeling that he would ( would not ) out loud . 

“ i guess since you got me a week and half off work i could least do that “ biting her lip , wanting to kick herself at the urge to twirl her hair in her finger like some smitten school girl . 

“Well then lets get going “ he winked wrapping his arm around her only for the same group of guys from before walking by looking barely 16 . 

“ dude kiss her “ one  not so hushed whisper yell  . 

“  man i was gonna ask her out” another whined. 

“ y’all watching this whole time ?” she snorted while jake was looking like the cat that got the cream having her at his side . 

“ tiktok was done … if things don’t work out with old man  heres my number” the guy winked as jake took the piece of paper instead . 

“She wont need it son “ was all jake could say leading her back towards the shop , back where his truck was least if her brother was doing him the solid he could have a small drive thru  date . he was new to it all actually wanting to see the one person actively and exclusive ( not that he told her , he wasn’t bradshaw ) but he was willing to show it in future .  He also learned never to doubt nat and her matching making skills again well how could he went he was going to be wearing the visual proof .

[dawnoftime22]

can i get a fluffy taylor request where reader(who is in a established relationship with tay) is bipolar and like- they are starting to hit a depressive phase? its not too bad or serious they're just numb and sleeping a lot and needing comfort and support? its fine if not. just know you're loved, take care of yourself

just be here.

| T.S

Warnings: Numbness / dissociation, R being stuck in bed and sleeping a lot, feeling guilt / small anxiety, more non verbal reassurances than verbal, shower scene with tay; sweet details only

Summary: As an empty day hits you, you end up with lots of sleep, and no productive things done. Taylor gets concerned, but takes loving care of you, with kisses and reassuring touches.

Word Count: 5.8k

Category: fluff, comfort, hurt/comfort (at the beginning if you squint?)

A/N: this isn't really a work of mine I'd say I like because it feels like a mess, but its the best I can do :') starting is a little slow, but it dives into the full comfort in the midday cut if you only want to read that<3

Request A/N: hey, if you're going through this, I understand. just know it won't last forever. I've gotten out of it just recently, it just takes time and care. sit and enjoy the little things for now :] I don't know much about bipolar disorder, but I am familiar with what you described, so this is mostly focused on that part<3 thank you so much for requesting with your lovely words! you're just as loved, if not, more!!

| Started on 08/11/2024, 10:32 AM |

| Finished on 12/11/2024, 12:13 AM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

Request Guidelines | Part Two, 'look after you.'

“I'll hold your hand through it.”

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

The windows only had a dark blue color. Where the curtains were once covering the view of the dusk sky, they had been draped aside by gentle hands.

It was warm, and perfectly cold at the same time. You could feel the covers cozily upon your body. There was some more time to relish it in, right?

Your vision had caught only a glimpse of the blonde, going into the bathroom for perhaps a shower, just before you let yourself surrender to the void of darkness, once more.

When you woke up again, you realize the brighter light shining through the window, white and gleaming instead of the blue dusk color, and you knew what had happened.

You had slept in the day, once again.

A sigh leaves your lips and you reach for your phone by the nightstand, checking the time. It was 9:30 in the morning, where any minutes later, it would have been double digits on the screen.

You slumped into the mattress, your cheek getting squished against the pillow. That was it, your morning routine had fallen down.

There was nearly enough time for you to set your phone back down and close your eyes again, just to avoid even dealing with it all. Nearly. At least, until a gentlefamiliar voice sounds out from behind you.

"Hey, sweetheart," Taylor softly calls from the doorway, her hand going to rest on the doorframe after making her way from the kitchen. She could just barely see you, holding your phone rather than having your arms curled up as earlier, when you were sleeping.

"You're up?" she continued, tilting her head, but her voice questioned her own observations. It wasn't until you soon turned to face her that she could see you were awake. You shifted groggily, staying under the covers and pulling it up to keep yourself warm.

She smiles softly at you as her heart swells, her eyes traveling your sleepy face. You let out a slow breath, blinking drowzily at her, but soon, Taylor gently pushes herself off the doorframe, making her way to you.

"I didn't have the heart to wake you baby, you looked so adorably peaceful," she murmurs, going to crawl into bed to join you. She lays down beside you, gently pulling you closer to snuggle.

"...and cuddly," she adds, getting under the covers too, because it was getting cold, even with just the ceiling fan on.

You stretched your legs under the blanket with your body, eyes closed to then go into her embrace, burying your face into her chest.

Her hand comes into contact with your hair, fingers going through your strands soothingly. She gazes at you, noticing your quietness.

"I made us some breakfast," she whispered, staying in the cuddle for a little while before she shifts her position, her elbow resting on the pillow to prop herself up in a sitting position.

It was quiet for a moment, the fan humming gently in the silence. You wanted to respond, but it felt too early in the morning to even speak.

Taylor didn't mind though. She gently smooths your hair back, her hands being gentle with affection. "Theres eggs and bacon...some cut up apples..." she says slowly, pausing her movement. She could feel you burying your face further into her chest.

"I would ask if you wanna shower first...but the food would go cold," she adds, continuing the motion in your hair and leaning down to lay a soft kiss to your head.

She was about to think that you had fallen asleep, but then she sees you peeking your face out slightly, your cheek against her chest now.

Her lips raise up into the softest smile at the sight of you. "...Ready to get up yet?" she murmurs, seeing the way you haven't moved at all, other than your little head turn.

A yawn passes by your lips, but you let out the quietest protest of an elongated hum, nuzzling back into her. Definitely not because of a shower, and especially not because of the food your lovely girlfriend's told you she's made, but to getting out of bed.

"You're so comfy, huh?" She chuckles, seeing your pout, although there was a slight difference upon it that tugged at her curiosities.

She shifts slightly, trying to move and get up a little more. "Just a few minutes baby...then we can be all warm again, okay?" she says gently.

You melted into her, slumping further into her embrace and nearly holding on. Her eyes soften sympathetically at your stubbornness, but eventually saw the smallest, little nod.

She took that as a sign to get up, and she felt relief flow through her. Although she would have carried you out from bed anyway. Slowly, she untangles herself from you, moving to help you sit up.

She keeps her eyes on you as the both of you got out of bed. Standing up was groggy, but you managed it with her beside you, eventually making your way out the bedroom.

Her cats were hanging around, Olivia by the kitchen, eating out her cat bowl, finishing her food. The other two bowls were empty, Benjamin laying on the carpet while Meredith was probably somewhere in the music room instead of the living area.

You got to the dining table, seeing the plates had your breakfast all ready. The chair gently scrapes the floor, and you sat down, while Taylor went to pour some orange juice into some glasses— one for you and one for her.

When she comes back, you shifted in your seat to get comfortable, then picked up your fork, starting with the apple slices. She places your drinks on the table before she sat down herself.

You took a bite of a slice, and put the rest on your plate. She smiles softly, content in the moment. Her hand reaches out to grasp her drink, taking a sip and relishing the taste, then looking at you after she put it back down.

She watches for a bit, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. "You're quiet..." she whispers softly, the words slipping out faster than her mind can reach. She noticed the way your eyes went to her instantly, flickering with a milisecond of emotion.

"I'm sorry, its just..." you whisper, having had no intention to make her feel like you were treating her any differently. Or, anything. It might've been the only thing that could make your heart feel like sinking for the present moment.

"I don't have anything on my mind right now..." you mumble, staring down to your plate, pausing your eating. Taylor shook her head gently, quickly taking back her words.

"No, I don't mean it like that," she whispers. Her shoulders fell ever so slightly in regret, and a frown was on her face at how your mind jumped straight to thinking she meant it in a bad way.

She reaches out to gently grasp your hand, assuring you softly. "I don't mind it when you're quiet." Her eyes search yours, finding there to be a certain blankness within.

"I'm just...concerned, baby," she adds, worry growing into her heart. She gives your hand a gentle squeeze, starting to feel that something was off.

She then takes in a breath. "...You know, Olivia was in space yesterday," Taylor says suddenly, gently cutting the quietness and returning her hand back to herself. You missed the embrace of her warmth already, but you didn't say anything.

You blink at the sentence though, wondering if she thought of it due to you zoning out, or if it was just the first thing she thought of to say next.

"What?" you whisper under your breath, looking at her. She returns your gaze, hers softening instead of being fully concerned.

A chuckle leaves her raised lips. "Yeah, looking like shes flying through space. I mean, I took some photos if you wanna see..." she murmurs, grabbing her phone from the table, just beside her plate, flipping it to the front to unlock her screen.

You wait patiently, a setting your fork down to lean against the dining table, watching as she goes to her photos to find it.

She stifles a giggle when she did, then turned her phone to show you it.

Your eyes widened, and a smile, for once, rose up from your lips, joined in with a giggle. "Tay..." you whisper, all while she was laughing off her heart.

"Amazing, right? Like...that one rainbow cat. The nyan...nyan cat?" she adds, grinning widely at you. Your giggles turned into a laugh as you nod, agreeing with her reference.

Her heart swells at your joyous sounds, finally getting at least a single full smile out of you in success.

When you both soon finished up breakfast with some passing time, you had stood up, taking the plates to the sink to start cleaning them.

Taylor was finishing off her drink before she steps off to you and leans over to put the glass in the sink.

She then gently wraps her arms around your waist from behind, giving a small, gentle kiss to your shoulder before resting her chin atop it.

Your heart warmed at the sweet gesture. Her eyes watch you put the soap on the plates, cleaning off the grime and dust.

"...How about a warm shower later?" she whispers softly, her voice near your ear, her warm breath nearly tickling your skin.

You thought about it for a moment, then gave way to a gentle, "Yeah...sure." Taylor was smiling softly, resting her cheek then to the back of your shoulder.

You turn your body slightly, pausing the washing to give her a gentle kiss. Her smile grew wider, and she met you halfway in a tender gesture.

The shower later was warm, a slow, affectionate atmosphere. It kind of left you feeling unreal, like you weren't even in your current reality.

As Taylor gently puts the shower gel on your skin, you were spaced out, off onto the shower wall. You had already helped her clean, and now she was returning the gesture, which usually you would be adoring her features as she focused, but your mind was off, and it couldn't at the moment.

She notices your expression, unbothered, but not enough to count as nonchalant. You felt like you were a car, always set to neutral mode all the time, and the world seemed gray along with your feelings, aside from Taylor, being sweet with her love and radiating the golden sun's warmth.

Her hand carefully roams your skin, fingertips brushing by every part of you as the running shower's sound echoes through the bathroom.

Taylor then leans in to give your cheek a kiss, as soft as the warm steam going up. "You okay, sweetheart?" she whispers softly.

Your eyes travel to her, catching smoothly with ease. "...Yeah..." you whispered back, trying to give her a small smile, but even she could see through it, see the slightest hint of a stoic look in your expression.

Her lips turn to the smallest of frowns, but she gives you another kiss, this time on your shoulder once the shower gel was rinsed off, her eyes going down to focus back to cleaning your body. "Okay..."

When she finishes up rinsing off the last of the shower gel on your body, then letting you both soak in a bit longer in the warmth, she soon turns off the shower, the water no longer felt cascading down your body.

You reach for the towel, drying yourself off before stepping out the shower with the towel around you. Taylor did the same, following you, and slipping her hand to yours, intertwining your fingers before you go to the bedroom.

You get your clothes on, after the tensing of the cold air. As you adjusted the hem of your shirt to fit completely so it wasn't bundled up, Taylor came up behind you, since you were standing facing the bed.

Her finger comes up, giving a gentle tap to your shoulder. The touch was light, but it got your attention enough to turn around.

She held up one of her hoodies, which was her lover hoodie that she loved wearing often, now offering it to you for today.

Your expressions softened, and you nod, letting her help you slip it on, getting your head up the neckline and pulling the sleeves on your arms.

She smiles once she was done, stepping back with a proudness in her heart of you in her hoodie. It was a usual sight, but it never failed to reach her precious heart.

The smallest hint of a pink tint came up in your cheeks, and Taylor went to sit down at the edge of the bed, still looking at you.

You go to get in bed, but going to the pillows, laying down and pulling the covers back up your body.

Her gaze softens when she follows your trail, and she joins you, scooting beside you, finding that you were spending much more time being cozy.

She wraps her arms around you, pulling you in closer. A small silence, at least, goes for a little moment.

"...Do you wanna watch a movie with me? Or...come join me in the music room?" she whispers. The windows were still bright with the daylight, shining in through and making the room glow, but cozy enough to send you into a dozy state.

"I...kind of just wanna be in bed..." you whisper softly back, curling into her. She could feel your nose ever so slightly brush against her shirt.

"You sure, baby?" Taylor asks, her eyes searching your body language, and just a bit of your eyes she could see.

"Yeah...its okay, you can go write..." you say softly, pursing your lip. Then a soft yawn escapes your mouth that you had to cover with your hand.

"I'm sleepy..." you murmured then, snuggling closer to her and slowly letting your eyes close.

Taylor looks down with concern growing on her expressions, but her hand gently rubs your back. "Well...okay, sweetie," she whispers back.

The fan was humming with wind, keeping the room filled with air and a certain coldness. You couldn't tell if it was because of your dust colored blue walls, or if the fan was just too cold.

Another yawn passes by your lips, and you curled up further. You wanted to go back to sleep. It was so tempting. So cozy and cold, even if it was the afternoon already.

You couldn't resist...

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

Taylor sat beside you after coming back from some songwriting.

She settled with nothing but only her own presence and your sleeping one. Her phone was on the nightstand. A book she was reading, was sitting over by the desk, and her guitar, was on its stand.

Her eyes search your figure from behind. You weren't even on the pillows anymore, you were in an odd horizontal position, curled up, like you were a cat.

She guessed you had been in and out of sleep, changing positions from the ruffled up look of the blanket and sheets.

She could see the dishelved look on your hair, and you didn't even have the blanket up your body.

A small breath leaves her soft lips. Her hand reaches for the covers, and she pulled them up, gently warming you up so you weren't going cold.

Before she could return back to her comfortable position, she soon heard some rustling from you stirring. She held her breath, freezing. But you were just turning around with your eyes still closed. Your arm had fallen to the bed once more in the roll of your body.

She lets her breath release in relief, realizing you were only moving in your sleep, your body urging to get comfortable.

When she leans back to the pillows, she gazes your face, her arm draped around your body. You seemed so sweet and peaceful, she almost didn't want to wake you at all.

But as much as she loved seeing you asleep and wondering what you were dreaming, she couldn't help the concern poking her heart. You may have simply needed the rest, but shutting down the whole day certainly wasn't something usual of you.

She wasn't upset with you. Not at all. She was simply aching at the thought that you were possibly struggling with something, but not wanting to tell her, or even maybe unable to describe it.

Sometime soon, the way your soft breaths turned more noticeable was a tell that you were waking up, along with your slowly opening eyes.

You let out a slow huff of a breath. Your body felt heavy. Your limbs were sore, and especially your legs and feet. You had been staying in bed for too long.

The feeling was still there. The blank feel of your own eyes, the feel of your heart. You swallowed the sleep in your throat, turning your head groggily, and your face peeking out from Taylor's chest.

She notices the movement, and looks down, tilting her head to see you. "...Sweetheart?" she whispers softly, her thumb going to gently rub your back.

You look up at her, a stoic looking expression on your face. You took a deep breath, then sighed softly, feeling the way your body sinks at the exhale.

She could see it. That faraway, distant look. Her eyebrows furrow, trying to put pieces together, of what could possibly have reason to your change of behaviour. But she stopped her mind, because maybe she didn't need to put a reason to it. Maybe she could just provide you your comfort and warmth.

What made it even worse was, you didn't even feel heavy. Maybe even floating, but you didn't feel like that either. You were grounded, present, but everything was like white noise.

You had showered in the morning, but because you had been napping, you didn't even feel clean anymore. Definitely not refreshed, either, even though you've caught all the sleep in the world.

"I'm sorry," you whispered softly, nuzzling into her. Her eyebrows furrow, and she looks down at you.

Taylor took in her own breath, pulling you in closer. "...Shh...It's okay...what are you sorry of...?" she whispers softly, knowing your lack of communication, meant something was off.

"Whats wrong, baby?" she asks softly, moving your stray strands of hair aside, keeping them clear from your eyes.

You curl up into her, snuggling in to find comfort in her embrace. You wanted to tell her. But the room was quiet. You could only feel the coldness of the wind, coming from the ceiling fan above you, brushing against your skin.

Everything seemed bare, felt like it was dull arrows piercing through an empty heart. You rest your head against the front of Taylor's shoulder, one arm around her while your other hand was fiddling with the fabric of her shirt.

Her hands go through your hair soothingly, waiting patiently for any sign that you would perhaps talk, but didn't mind not having an answer, at least knowing you were relishing all the comfort in her embrace.

She nuzzles into your hair, breathing in the scent of shampoo from the shower earlier, then contently sighed, closing her eyes and resting her cheek against you.

Your finger drew mindless circles, and your thumb went in a back and forth position here and there. "...What if it stays like this...?" you whispered. You then took a breath in, wanting to say further, but then you just exhaled it out shortly after, too tired to even say anything else.

She looks down at you, leaning back slightly. "Us, baby...?" she asks, wondering if you were relishing in the quietness. You shook your head.

"Me, sleeping constantly..." you murmur, the slight guilt etching into your voice. You hadn't done anything for the whole day,

"Oh...it won't, darling..." Her arms around you tightened, pulling you in closer. You lean into her, feeling the water in your eyes blur your vision, but you blink a little, and they were gone the second they came.

"...Just...I feel useless...and I didn't do anything today, or hung out with you." Your voice was getting quieter, smaller, possibly even along with how you were shrinking into her, burying your face into the crook of her neck.

She brings her attention to her thoughts, going through all the words in her mind. "You did things with me today. You got up from bed, ate your breakfast, showered...thats enough for me," she reassures you, letting out a soft breath.

"...You know, its normal to get some extra rest...even if you feel like you haven't 'done enough' to get up to that point," she whispers, laying a kiss atop your head.

"Its okay. You can just stay here with me for now," She whispers, resting her chin where she kissed afterwards, making you feel the warmth of her embrace enveloping you.

You heard her murmur, but you slump ever so slightly. "But when will it stop?" you whisper, one of the other problems tugging at the veins of your heart.

Her soft, non audible sigh was provided with an ache in her heart. "I don't know either, sweetheart..." she tilts her head down, looking into your eyes. "And thats okay. You don't always have to worry when it ends, maybe it'll just...happen," she whispers, nuzzling into your nose.

"...It happens with me too, you know..." she says, remembering all the times shes come back home from her shows, or an interview. You look up at her, searching her eyes. She smiles softly, giving you a gentle kiss. "And you've seen that I always turn out better...because you were always beside me."

The quietness goes for a moment, but now with a small drop of comfort, filling the space, some minutes for you to linger on her words. She gazes off to the doorway of your shared bedroom, deep in thought.

"Do you want something to eat...?" she whispers slowly, leaning back slightly to see your face. It had been hours since breakfast already, and she knew lunch was coming around.

Your stomach did feel empty. You hadn't noticed it until now. But you nuzzle back into her. Her arms instinctively tighten around you, a smile tugging on her lips.

"Its comfy..." you murmured. You certainly didn't want to let go, especially with the covers being as warm as Taylor, acting like a shield to the cold.

She gives another kiss to the top of your head, struggling to resist her smile. "Baby...as much as you look adorable, buried in the covers looking like a teddy bear..." she trails off, her eyes traveling down to you.

"Maybe you can be just as cozy when you're out of bed?" she suggests gently, tilting her head. Her thumb gave a sweet caress on your back.

You look into her eyes, hesitant on her gentle urging. The floor seemed too grounded for your feet, but the bed was also too soft for you to stay any longer without feeling the soreness.

After some consideration, you soon accept it with a gentle nod, the churning in your stomach unable to stay unnoticed anymore.

She smiles, ever so slightly, sitting up to start getting up from the bed. You felt a twinge of disappointment at the loss of warmth, but you follow her as she helps you.

You let out a gentle sigh when you sat at the edge of the bed. Taylor waited patiently when she stood up, her gaze gentle over your face. Her hand held yours, keeping touch.

You could feel a gentle squeeze, giving you reassurance before you finally will yourself to stand up. Although maybe a little too fast, causing you to blink at the dizziness and lean yourself against her.

She held you gently, her hand slipping out of yours quickly to wrap her arms around your waist, keeping you steady.

Whats worse is, you didn't even feel tired. You had feelings, but they weren't felt in your heart. There was sleepiness evident, but not tiredness evident. You were simply living in your body and drifting through time.

The world fell quiet, for once. But almost too quiet. Your ankle had pressure as you took your steps forward, and Taylor could see the slight disorientation mustered on your face, so she kept her eye on you, walking with you.

"Slow steps, baby," she whispers, concern etched on her face as she guides you. The deja vu of the moment was starting to run over your mind.

When you got to the kitchen, you sat at the barstool, while Taylor went off to open the cabinets, looking at the options to then take a glance to you.

"Toast or something else, baby?" she asks softly, her hand still holding on the handle of the cabinet. You turn your head up to her, blinking.

"Toast," you answered quietly. Taylor nods, and grabbed a plate, preparing it for you with your favorite spread on the bread.

Once she was done carefully setting it, she sets the plate down in front of you with a gentle clink, then smiled softly, leaning against the kitchen island.

You look to it, then lean forward a little, reaching out to take the toast into your grasp and put a bite into it.

As you chewed, you stare down at your sandwich in your hand, but couldn't help space off to the side a little, or the marble top of the island. You couldn't tell.

A quietness overlays the room. Taylor's eyes roam your expression before she rounds the island to your side, sitting beside you on another barstool.

"Maybe, if you want, we can sit outside for a little bit, you know?" she says softly, resting her arm on the kitchen island, along with her cheek against her palm.

You look at her, getting out of the zoned out state as she gently pulls you back to reality. At the same time, needing to swallow the bread in your mouth and take another bite as she watches.

"Have some hot chocolate..." she suggests softly, trailing off with a gentle smile growing on her face, her eyes going to you. She had made the corner of your lips have the smallest raise.

Taylor waits a little longer, seeing the wheels turning in your mind. "...Hm...?...is that okay with you?" she murmurs softly, in search of confirmation.

You think about it for a moment. Going back to bed seemed so nice. But having hot chocolate in the sun with Taylor? It was...an equal deal. Most times you didn't even need to think about such an offer like that, but even you couldn't figure out what was wrong with your current mind, if there was anything that needed to be identified.

A breath slowly leaves you, and you gave in with a nod, along with a small raise on the corner of your lips that didn't reach your eyes. "Sure."

She fully smiles now, and gives a nod of her own. "Good, I'll make the hot chocolate while you eat," she says, getting up to return to the kitchen counters.

You could hear the creaking of the cabinets, the pouring of hot water, and the gentle clinking of small spoons, stirring against the mugs.

It kept you focused on her, seeing her every move as she made the simple recipe of a warm beverage, easily fit for the midst of days like these.

Once you finish your sandwich, you put away the plate in the sink, although deciding to wash it later since there will be mugs too, now.

Just as you were finished, Taylor was too, and she had gestured to you your drink beside her on the counter, her hand still stirring her own.

You take some steps over to her, your hand about to reach out for the drink. "Careful, baby...its hot," she warned gently, wanting you to be careful.

You look to her, but then gently wrapping your fingers around the mug's handle. "Its called hot chocolate, anyway..." you say, the smallest smile on the corners of your lips, but it elicited a giggle out of Taylor, her head nodding in agreement. "True," she says.

You walked over to the front door, unlocking it and opening it slowly. The sunlight was shining down on everything, making a bright glow against the wooden porch. It was also going to be the sunset soon, too.

Taylor was about to join you in going outside as she followed, but got distracted by a nearby Benjamin, who had gotten curious of the front door opening.

His blue eyes stared gently right back up to her own, and she couldn't help but smile, bending down to gently pick his body up with her free hand.

Then, she joins you, stepping out the house and sitting down beside you on the clean steps of the porch. You were gently blowing on your hot chocolate, although there was a part in you that had an urge to simply take a sip, you remember Taylor's sweet warning.

She settled down with Benjamin, now laid down on her lap comfortably. Once she got comfortable, she puts down her mug, making sure it wasn't in a place where it could be knocked over.

You took some gentle sips, although it was still steaming hot, you could feel the warmth of the hot chocolate, running down easily through your throat, a soothing feeling that sank to your body.

Taylor glances to you, her eyes gently roaming your features and expression. She takes a moment, just a few, before she shifts closer and reaches her arm around you, pulling you closer just a little.

You blink slightly at the pull, but you lean into it eventually, melting into the side of her shoulder. Benjamin noticed, his ears tilting a little, but then he goes into your lap instead, resting cozily, purring. You could feel it.

It almost only made you feel sleepier. But in the comforting way, like the sunshine on your face, melting away the cold.

A gentle smile turns up on her face as she looks at you, then wraps her arm around you, comforting you with her touch.

She could see the relaxation going through you, finding solace in her presence as she simply sits there, peacefully with you. Maybe you didn't need anything else right now. Maybe you didn't have to do anything, but just be present.

Her thumb gently rubs your shoulder through your shirt, and she leans her head against yours, turning to give a lingering kiss before getting comfortable again.

She watches the birds fly in the sky, returning to their home or go to find food. "...Baby?" she starts with a whisper, gently catching your attention to her.

You turn your head to look at her, seeing she had leaned back slightly to look at you properly. "...Mm?" you responded with a questioning hum.

She stays quiet for a moment, simply searching your eyes, as if she was trying to read your thoughts.

"...Can you tell me something, honey?" she asks softly, her other hand coming down to gently slip into your own hand, intertwining your fingers. You gave her a gentle nod, wanting her to continue.

A bit of her lip gets captured by her teeth, but then she lets go to speak quietly, treading carefully. "Do you need anything?"

You thought about the question, your eyes slowly blinking through it, and there was a near furrow in your eyebrows, but eventually her question was answered. "...Just you."

A small smile grew on her lips, but the breath in she took told that she had more to say. "Okay, then be honest with me on this one," she continued, her voice a little more serious, but still soft and sweet.

You stay quiet, waiting for her next words. "What's going on...hm?" she asks with a slight tilt of her head, her hand that was on your shoulder going down to find ground on the wood of the porch.

Your eyes divert from her gaze the second her question came out, a small breath escaping you slowly, but your free hand went to Benjamin's soft fur.

Her face softens, seeing the way you turned away, and she gave a gentle squeeze to your hand. "You don't have to tell, and I won't judge...but I'm worried. I mean, aside from all the sleeping..." she murmurs, knowing there was something else.

You take a moment to respond, your teeth sinking into the side of your lip. You didn't want to answer. You didn't know how to. But it was Taylor, and if anyone could understand your feelings the most, it was her.

Your shoulders lowered slowly with a breath, your eyes downcast. You gathered your words before you softly spoke. "...I don't know whats happening anymore, Tay."

Your gaze returned to her, your eyes squeezing slightly in sadness as you then lean your head against her shoulder. "I feel so...sleepy...but I've gotten so much sleep."

Her hand rubs in a soothing up and down motion on your shoulder, pulling you closer before she gives a kiss to your head, listening closely.

You sighed. "...I don't know. Its...everything is just...gray. I can't find...passion. And not even music helps..." you continued, with your last words being quiet, and then you slumping into her in defeat.

Taylor's heart broke at the heaviness your shoulders seemed to be holding, even if it didn't show, or didn't felt like it was there.

But she took her heart's love, trying to help you find your way back. "Its okay if you end up not being able to feel things sometimes, you know..." she whispers softly.

"I mean, its...not great, but you're still here, aren't you? Being present, still giggling every once in a while even if its hard." she says softly, a small smile coming up on her face to reassure you, and you did feel your heart soften.

"Maybe your brain's just trying to protect you, from big feelings, but it doesn't know how much to reduce?" she pauses for a moment, her mind wanting to be careful with her words. A breath of air goes through her lips.

You frown, hugging her closer and going closer the best you could with Benjamin in your lap. You could still feel the purring. "I don't like it..." you murmur, hating that you couldn't seem to feel anything, nearly to the point that you were even beginning to think it was becoming your personality. But Taylor knew it wasn't that.

"I know...but it won't last forever, sweetheart," she reassures you softly, her arms tightening around you. Her embrace held her love.

"Your passion will come right back to you sometime soon, and maybe you'll even blink and its right there again." The words were simple, a gentle but clear meaning to you in your mind as Taylor gazes off to the neighbourhood.

"Maybe we don't have to...do anything...we can just...sit," she whispers, relaxing slowly with you. She could feel your own body, melting away the tension.

"...And I'll be right here, beside you." Her murmur was quiet, leaning back and tilting her head to look at you, then kiss your cheek, a breath of near relief escaping you as you bury your face into her.

"Its okay."

"We're gonna be okay, baby."

----------------------

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[httpsdana]

Gavi one where she’s feeling really insecure and comparing herself to others because she’s not the tiniest girl and he just showers her with love

Insecure~Pablo Gavi

*GIF isn't mine. credits to the owner*

A reminder that everyone reading this is absolutely beautiful and i love you all so much 💋💞

you can request from my prompt list

this is my master list

players/drivers i write for

y/n wasn't the tiniest girl ever. She had some fats in her belly, and for her, her thighs where way too big. For her, her face was too round and her cheeks were too chubby. For her she was too much.

Feeling insecure since you were a child only makes it more traumatic when you grow up. You carry that guilt with you until it becomes unbearable. And when you finally start feeling good about yourself, or when you finally accept yourself as you are, something ruins it and takes you back to zero, where you're standing in front of the mirror, and pointing out every imperfection you can see in your appearance, and body.

That was the case with y/n. Growing up as a child she was always bullied for her body. She never felt good about herself. Reaching high school you would say the bullying stopped, but it didn't. It only became worse. That's why when she met Gavi after her graduation, she thought he was just there to make fun of her or something.

She pushed him away thinking that its better than getting attached. But his desire to make this broken girl his won, and there they are happiest as ever.

Well that was until Pablo decided go post a picture of them. They had always been the pribate couple. They only posted pictures where their faces don't appear, just pictures of their hands interwined, or one where their backs are to the camera with his arms around her.

But this picture was on another level. It was a picture of them at one of their friend's wedding. She had a slightly tight dress on, and her stomach was bloated and on display, her hair was out of place and her lipstick was ruined. Her shoulders looked too broad and her smile was awkward. Everything seemed wrong.

Although she knew it was a bad thing to do, she opened the comment to see what people thought about it, and it seemed like everyone had the same opinion as her.

nah look at that double chin 💀🤣

gurl should've gotten a bigger size 😬

is gavi actually dating her-

ain't no way literal models exist and he's with her 💀

i wonder if he's forced to date her or smth

Tear streamed down her face like a river. She didn't think these comments would affect her that much...but they did. She knew people will not like her, but she didn't think she would get more criticism than she did back in high school.

She locked her phone and covered her face with her hands, trying to calm herself down by taking a few breathes.

Maybe if i had blonde hair Pablo would like me more? or colored eyes? he probably thinks I'm too basic for him. or too fat. why is he even still with me? so he can leave me when he's bored? or when he finds a model that's suitable for him?

These thoughts ran through her head, only drowning her even more. She thought that maybe scrolling through tiktok would keep her mind off what she just saw.

Oh how wrong she was. The only videos she saw showed pictures of Pablo with pretty girls, or from his last meet and greet, girls all over him, some giving him their instagram and others their number.

What made it worse was seeing Pablo keep the papers with him. And the caption are all the same thing about Pablo deserving a prettier girl.

She threw her phone across the room and burst into tears. She didn't think it would hurt this much, but it did.

"you scared the hell out of me! why didn't you open the door when i knocked?!" Pablo barged in the room, making her flinch and the sound of the door

Only when he saw her puffy eyes and wet cheeks, his face softened but showed worry instead

"are you okay mi amor? why are you crying what happened?" he asked in a soft voice

He tried wrapping his arms around her but she only pushed him away and tried to stop her sobbing

"y/n.. what's wrong?" he asked, hurt evident in his voice and his eyes

"why are you with me Pablo? are you still here to make fun of me? why are you not with a model or something like literally every other football player? why are here with me? a normal basic fat girl with chubby cheeks and huge thighs and an ugly smile and a-" her sentence was interrupted by Pablo pressing his lips on hers

"y/n baby why are you saying that? you know i adore you. I'm literally so in love you that I can't even look at any other girl. I would die for you my love. Why would i want a model when i have you? a pretty, smart, super adorable, and an amazing chef as my girl. why would i want a girl who only cares about what she wears or how she looks or what she owns. I only want you sweetheart. I only love you and only what to have you in my arms every night. I don't know why you think i would leave you. you're the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. I don't know what made you feel this way, but please don't ever think that low of yourself. I'm so proud of you and i love you so so much" he said in a soft tone, his hands holding her face and wiping her tears with his thumbs. He kissed her tears away and brushed her hair away from her eyes.

She managed to give a small smile. Her stomach erupting with butterflies at the sweet words said by her boyfriend. She felt the genuine love they shared and the sincerity in his voice.

"I don't deserve you. you're amazing. i love you so much" she whispered, wrapping her arms round his torso and laying her head on his chest

"please don't say that. I'm the one who's lucky to have you in my life"

[scummy-writes]

Things I've learned about being in fandoms on tumblr

Sometimes when I am navigating fandom, I will have bouts of... depression? negative feelings? regarding it. I think a lot of people go through this, but in the areas of fandom I buzz around in, I don't see many people talking about ways to sort of re-center yourself and take care of yourself in an online space. I thought I would attempt to share some of my habits I try to follow when I hit one of these moods. So here are 14 of them covering various subjects I run into the most. They will not work for everyone, but I do encourage you to think a bit about each point and see if it would work for you.

Feel free to add some of your own, but I am looking for positive advice that is not meant to put down others in a harmful way. I would also like to preface that I've been in fandoms for over seven years, most of them smaller rather than huge, but a lot of this advice is centered around someone just trying to enjoy the space/enjoying it as a fan creator (writing fanfics in my case). The 'you' used in this is a general usage of the word 'you'.

-> It's good to celebrate milestones, whether its how many followers you have, works you've made in a year, or similar.

However... Don't let this become a competition or reasons to compare yourself to others. We're here to have fun and to celebrate us doing so- don't put completely unneeded and unnessacary competition on it. What's the point of that competition other than to make yourself feel bad or to belittle others? This extends further to notes - no number games. none. You can be proud of the numbers you have gotten, but curb all impulses to swing that in a negative way. The second that starts happening, talk to friends. talk to someone IRL. do something that isn't staring at your notifs, immediately. Even if its listening to silly things while washing the dishes- get out of your notifs tab!!! The numbers game isn't a game you have to be a part of, ever.

-> Don't put other bloggers on pedestals.

It's fine to be a fan of someone's work, and to be excited when they post or even talk to you and you're surprised by it. However, we're all just nerds together in a fandom- maybe don't put them up on a pedestal and hold their opinions/words as gospel rather than things you agree with. There's an unhealthy disconnect there for both parties, and can lead to unhealthy habits of a bad comparison game with one party not even knowing you're comparing yourself or others to them. And I promise that no one likes being pitted against others in those.

-> separating my main blog from my fandom blog has done wonders for me.

This one is a lot more of a 'me' thing that MIGHT be helpful towards others, but it's such a nice thing to have a 'normal' space where I don't have to worry too much about fandomisms but want to be online. I want to reblog other things that are not just fandom related and I don't want people from the fandom blog bothering me for. For the longest time I wasn't very upfront with my main blog purely because I wanted that separation, but for others to block me properly I put it up more bluntly.

I also think that this is good when you want to write about some things, but are nervous. In my example, I get nervous writing about my ocs. So what did I do? Made a sideblog for one, briefly mentioned it, and I post untagged drabbles at times when trying to explore her character. It's more practice on not caring about the note amount each post gets for me, and it makes me more at ease with things not getting any notes while exploring different subjects I don't usually write about.

-> Does everyone seem horrible, or are you just not in a good mood?

This is silly and maybe redundant for some, but it's good to keep a track of IRL verses Online. If IRL is weighing you down so much that you use online as an unhealthy habit (self destructive behaviors towards things you worked hard on, lashing out at friends for things out of their control, lashing out on other bloggers for inane things, focusing your bad mood on notes or fake popularity contests...) then try and figure out the big important things: Have you eaten, slept, drank enough water through the day, or are in pain/annoyance with something offline that you're not realizing? Is it one person online making you feel like this? Have you blocked them? Have you taken healthy breaks offline to reground yourself? When i am randomly bitter about the online world, this is typically my frustrations with smth IRL leaking out, and so I do something to help process that or to breathe through it. My personal go to is getting out of the house so I can listen to music, watch silly videos while putting together a simple craft I bought, or doing chores/playing games.

-> Is the fandom full of cliques, or are you witnessing friends just talking to each other?

I get it, it fucking sucks not being involved in a friend group. You know what makes that worse? By looking at other's friend groups bitterly and making up shit in your mind to justify it. The reality is this: people will be friends with a limited number of people, and frequently talk to them because that is who they are comfortable with.

You not being in that friend group does not mean there is anything wrong with you OR them. The honest truth is that it's hard to keep up with a ton of friends at once, and so people may not respond to your messages, or they might mean to but it gets lost in their hectic IRL, or they just don't mesh with you- and all of that is normal!

And... Really... It takes work to build up a friend group. You have to get out of your comfort zone and send the first few messages. You have to embrace the fact that it's possible a friendship won't pan out. It's natural, it's normal, and doesn't mean there is anything wrong with you or the other person. After trying and naturally just talking to people in the fandom, I promise that you will find a friend group of your own.

We are all socially awkward people trying to nervously talk to each other. Yes, even the people you follow that seem like 'everyone' likes them- they are nervous too. we're all just nerds here, remember that.

-> Understand that no one is obligated to do anything.

This ranges from so many things. Here is a list as short as I can manage it to get my point across: No one is obligated to comment, read, like, or reblog any posts. Any posts. No one is obligated to scour for new creatives in the fandom spaces and reblog their work. No one is obligated to tag their posts/creative adventures to your liking. No one is obligated to follow by your DNIs and BYFs. Obligation does not exist. Even your friends are not obligated to do any of this.

It is courtesy to do these things. Blogs will do their best to be supportive by nature, and to try and at least do some of this at any given time, but it's not a requirement. It's NICE to do so and encouraged, but the second you drill it into your head that no one, not even you, are obligated to do this, it's a bit easier to breathe and accept that no, it's a bit insane and difficult to read through 50 fanfics a week and comment a paragraph on all of them while also working on your own things and trying to manage 15 conversations while working 40 hrs a week and and and---

Instead, focus that energy on friends and yourself when you can and accept your own limitations.

-> have other fandoms you enjoy where you DON'T feel pressured to do ANYTHING.

Due to my hard fixation at usually one to two games at a time, I am usually only writing for those at a time- but I need other things to enjoy where I don't feel like I need to make something to post online. I don't feel that pressure from myself, i don't feel the need to try and engage with others. Just a quiet enjoyment for me.

-> If creating is really stressing you out and making you feel worse than better, reflect on the reasons this may be.

Are you hanging out with people who are regurgitating really bad beliefs regarding creation ("shame, you only got twenty notes, that's nothing", "wow fifty notes? that flopped.", "how did this person's shitty work get 30 more notes than me?"). Are you getting anons putting you down? Is your depression convincing you what you've made is worthless? Look at some of the points in this post regarding friends, blocking, and if you're neglecting your body's needs. If that still persists, there may be some self-reflection as to why things get to you so badly. Try to journal out the reasons why until you believe you hit one that is not your depression speaking.

An example: I would freak out about notes because I had friends that would talk around or to me in the examples listed in the previous paragraph. Cutting them off, focusing on friends who focused on the joys of creating, and focusing more on what *I* wanted to write rather than requests... I still get depressed at times but it's been so much more managable now with better support and feeling free creatively. Usually calling myself out at staring at notes helps me shake my head and move on now.

-> Blocking/Filtering is your friend, but maybe don't over do it.

Blocking seems vaguely controversial at times, but I do believe it's needed for a positive fandom experience. Outside of the obvious, the reasons I block people are typically related to how upset I am by something the person has done or said, even if it's related to fancreations. If it's something like them berating others for not believing their headcanon/fanon? Or grossly demonizing some character's mental illness? Or harassing people who dislike some characters and vice/versa? That's all a block for me.

I personally try not to overdo it and make educated decisions based on like, hey, is this just someone misunderstanding and not realizing how they're coming off? Is this someone who I am misreading their tone? Is this just a weird one-off behavior? Ok, then maybe no block button. But if seeing poor takes makes you angry for longer than, say, 20 mins? an hour? It's a week later and you're still all huffy about it and legit pissed? Maybe dig into that while also blocking the person for now.

The Filters aspect of this is similar, but it's a lighter version of blocking for me. Maybe I don't want to block this person but seeing them talk about bugs really stresses me out, so I look at how they tag those posts and filter it out for myself. Maybe I love their fandom blog but they're multi-fandom, so i will filter out a fandom I don't want to see them post about. That's it.

-> Don't be afraid to cut anon off, even if it's for a few weeks at a time.

I feel like those of us who take requests for fan creations are terrified of this a lot, but truly, taking breaks from the anon function should be encouraged. It is indeed a button for shy people, but there are assholes everywhere regardless. When they occupy your time too much or just annoy you, take away their ability to actually say anything to you.

For a creative, sometimes this can feel like the end of the world. But... you Can turn it back on later. I frequently shut it off during major life events, fanfics I am worried I might get weird anons about, when I'm in a randomly bad mood and don't think I can handle it. I Sometimes have it off for months at a time. You can cut it back on. But if anons make you anxious just imagining getting one right now? Flip that off for now. (also please utilize the block function for mean anons!!!)

-> turn those tumblr notifs OFF!!! (mobile) Additional: Turn your status OFF!!!

The only notifications I get on my phone from tumblr is when someone IM's me, and I've had it like this for years. I cannot imagine having my phone constantly going off with random tumblr notifications, I think I would have a bad spike in anxiety having that happen. It would make any negative feelings with notes/followers/number worse for me.

The online status is debatable, some people really don't have an issue with this, but I tend to feel pressured to respond to people asap if they see that my status is online and similar. Those people have not said anything to me regarding it, it's just my personal issue. So..I turn that status off. And it helps me feel better about answering in my own time.

-> Look at who you are communicating with.

Do your friends regularly dunk or mock people on the daily, over shit that is inane and petty? Are you a creative a bit nervous with your work because your friends are pretty rude with how they view other's works? Are you scared to like a character because your friend severely hates them/is attached to them to an unhealthy degree?

There are other subsets to this, but those are ones I find really troubling and try my best to avoid. I dont want to be friends with people who regularly mock others on the legit daily. I don't want to be friends with people who nitpick notes and use notes as a measure on how much worth someone has. I don't want to be friends with people who mock other's creative endeavors.

So... I don't! If I notice things are becoming a salt pit, I try to talk things out at first, but if its clear that's not gonna work, then it's outties for me. It's very true that everyone will salt over something eventually, but it's up to you to decide how severe it is with your friend circle, how it wears you down, and are they really people you want to hang around with if they just make you anxious or stressed all the time?

-> That vaguepost isn't about you.

Friend venting about someone who sounds oddly like you? Does your favorite blog mention something they dislike and you think you fit into that catagory- guess what. It's not about you!!

It's something I struggled with for a while, but eventually I came to terms with it by going "If they truly have an issue with me, they can talk to me one on one. Otherwise, i am assuming that this isn't about me" and gritting my teeth and forcing myself to repeat that until I feel at ease. Truthfully, I also just stopped hanging out with people who do this a ton in a harmful way, so my anxiety about this decreased. If it's an issue, friends should be willing to bring it up to you personally rather than make really meanspirited vagueposts.

-> A personal one I am putting at the end since I believe can easily turn bad, is... Stop looking in the fandom tags if they continiously bum you out.

I will be transparent, I've had bouts of running into a ton of 'why you should love/hate this character' posts over and over, posts that are random but use 50 different character tags, posts about how annoying my fave is, posts from/about bloggers I dislike, etc etc. After a while, I decided to just curate my feed via whoever I was following, and stop looking into tags as often. At most, I do it once every 1-3 months.

Yes, this does limit what all you can see, however... There's only so much information I can take in at once. If I follow people who reblog a ton of fandom content I love and it's different across the board, that's good enough for me and I don't feel negative looking at the tags sometimes.

[reikunrei]

feeling incredibly averse to posting this but i'm just gonna drop my kofi link here in case anyone wants to help me get out of my increasingly shitty situation living with my parents

more info below ig

after having given my parents nearly $100k over the last four years, i'd love to be able to actually leave. my future job situation is still up in the air (i've submitted for about a dozen positions and the only one i've heard back from and interviewed for hasn't gotten back to me yet), and i haven't been able to build up any savings because, again, i was (and still am) helping my family afford rent and bills, and probably the taxes my parents are behind on, but if i think about that, i'll get too angry. no joke, i've given my family, at the bare minimum, 85% of my income over the last 4 years. the rest of it has gone toward medical stuff and, now, my car

at this point, with the combo of my mom refusing to lower her standards and my dad's seeming refusal to hunt for a new full time job, i don't see how they won't continue to bleed me dry. my dad even has a bad habit of taking money out of my old savings account that he's a joint owner on or whatever from when i got it set up when i was 16, even when i stopped actively putting money in it, so now any time it gets its automated $1 transfer from my checking account, he'll just take that $1 without consulting me. i'm not exaggerating, even if it has $1-2 in it, it'll be gone within a week

i've even put off starting on testosterone because of this. i wanted to start it like 3 years ago, but kept putting it off because of money issues and wanting to save as much as possible. i got really close to actually starting it this year, but because of how messy everything is, i put it off again bc having one more thing on my plate, especially when my parents are already weird about me being trans, was not something i wanted to deal with

not to mention, we're still currently not living under a lease in our house that we're, as far as i'm aware, still tens of thousands of dollars behind in rent on (again, my dad refuses to disclose our financial position honestly with any of us) and it's developed many, many issues bc the landlord, even before we were behind on rent, is shit and refuses to actually fix anything. and my dad loves to just ignore things unless we beg him to do something

i'd love to be on my own (in the, much more affordable, midwest) by the end of summer. i by no means want to rely on donations and i have other avenues i'm working with to make money (i still have my current full time job, but i'm going through my old belongings and selling a lot online), but i'll take any help i can get atp because i'm truly at my wits end. i'd start doing art commissions again if i could, but doing that from 2020-2022, partially on top of my full time job, absolutely wrecked my right hand and i'm still in enough pain that i can't make it a regular activity

idk how much else there is to say. there's more i could say but... i don't really wanna air all my dirty laundry here. i'm miserable in so many ways and it's just become increasingly clear that my dad expects me to constantly cover his ass. my younger brother gives money too, but he manages to go on big cross-country and overseas trips with friends, so i think i've been stuck with the burden of giving the most money. there's so many more things going on in the world rn and everyone is stretched thin so i don't expect much, or anything, but. idk. might as well throw it out there, right?

i’ve also since taken down the gfm i set up last year when we got our first eviction notice bc, while we still need the money, i don’t feel right keeping it up for multiple reasons, including “i don’t want to give any of that money to my family” and it feels too… serious to keep it up when i could just throw out my kofi instead

i just want to make sure i have some sort of safety net to catch me if i move before anything job-wise is finalized. i need to be able to afford a place to live for at least a month so i can job-search while physically being in the area i wanna move to, which would ultimately make it easier for me to find a job at all. i'm working on being more firm with giving less money so i can actually have the means to move and be safe and comfortable, but... that never lasts long in this house

anyway. that's it, i guess. thanks for reading

[weaveandwood]

Writing prompt - You and Gale are baking a cake - What happens?

Oh no cake batter found its way onto his dick

LMAO. I'm going to write this as Auroria and Gale , post Midwinter In Waterdeep when they're back together. Hiding under the cut because this got WAY more explicit than I thought it would. You're welcome! Thanks for the fun prompt!

NSFW 18+ Word Count: 1331 Warnings: Vaginal Sex

She returned to the cabin two days ago as promised, in advance of Morena's birthday party. Gale said they would typically order a cake from the baker, but Auroria suggested baking one together as a gift for her. Auroria and Gale had been married about a year, but she always felt a tug to try to impress Morena both in penance for the emotional turmoil she put her son through for seven years after their adventure ended and the desire for a mother figure in her life after not having that guiding figure for the last 27 years. Morena had said all was forgiven seeing how happy Gale was, but Auroria couldn't shake the feeling that she should always try harder.

She walked into their small kitchen from the cozy bedroom, seeing Gale already hard at work preparing the ingredients - eggs, sugar, flour, chocolate, butter. She walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her chin on his shoulder. 

"We're supposed to bake this together, dear husband."

He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. "You know, I never tire of being called that.”

“Good, because I will never tire of calling you that,” she smiled and stood beside him, looking at the neat countertop, everything in its place. “Let’s do this the old fashioned way, no magic.”

“Not even a little?” He looked flabbergasted. 

She shook her head. “No, it’ll mean more if it’s completely handmade. Besides, where is the fun if you don’t get a little messy every now and then?”

“Alright, alright, I surrender. You win again.” He laughed and kissed her softly, the spoon that was magically keeping the chocolate stirred, warm, and melted now laying still in the bowl. 

The pair got to work, Gale naturally taking the lead and instructing Auroria, who did most of the labor - mixing up the butter and sugar, adding the eggs, the chocolate, and finally the flour. Gale poured the batter into the cake tins and set them into their small oven. She stood with her hands on her hips, proud of the work they did and how well they worked together, even on this small project. Her previous demons were becoming smaller and smaller each time she came home. She loved what she and Gale had become.

“Not bad, we make a good team.”

“That we do, we hardly even made a mess..." He trailed off, surveying his beautiful wife, who had somehow gotten cake batter on both of her cheeks and the small sliver of skin showing at her chest in the opening of her top. He walked up to her, leaning in and used a finger to wipe the batter off her cheek. “I take that back,” he said, “you are covered in chocolate, Ora.” He laughed as he licked the batter off his finger. 

She shrugged. “Baking is messy, does the batter taste good at least?”

He leaned in closer, kissing her other cheek, licking off the batter. “Delicious.” He kissed down her neck, hitting that one spot that she liked before kissing down to the opening in her neckline, licking the batter off her chest. 

Auroria gasped, her hands moving into his hair, scratching gently at his scalp as he worked his way back up the other side of her neck to her earlobe. She tilted her head as he whispered, “I should see if you have batter anywhere else, my love.” She felt him tugging up the hem of her shirt, and she gladly lifted her arms up to help him. His hands immediately went to her breasts, kneading them gently, feeling her nipples getting hard under his deft touch. He unlaced her pants, pushing them off her hips to the floor, leaving her naked. She left out a soft moan as he touched her, which only made him want her more. “I need you, Ora. Now.”

“Hmm, first I think I need to make sure you didn’t get any chocolate on you, don’t you think?” She smiled, tugging at his shirt, knowing he didn’t have anything on him, but wanting to tease him just the same. She had never seen him take off his clothes more quickly - well, except maybe that first night in the Shadow Cursed Lands or the first Midwinter they reunited. She looked at him, his body softer with age and comfort though still athletic and absolutely, devastatingly perfect. The orb was now a faint scarring of lighter skin, mostly hidden by his chest hair. As her eyes traveled over his body, she saw exactly how much he desired her. 

“Sadly, I’m afraid you are perfectly clean, my love,” she said before closing the distance between them, kissing him deeply, reaching down to wrap her hands around him, already hard, and felt him groan into her mouth as she started to stroke him. He guided her back to the countertop as they kissed, then she felt his hands on her waist, lifting her up onto the countertop, still covered in flour. 

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers as his hand slid its way down her hips between her legs, rubbing her, feeling her wet for him already. “Gods how did I get so lucky? Look at you, it’s all I can do not to be inside you all day. I want you, please let me have you,” he practically panted, a finger sliding inside her. She loved his fingers for many reasons, but the way they knew exactly how to play her made her wonder if Gale was a musician in a past life. She arched her back, moaning softly. 

“Then have me, Gale. Have me.”

Gale wasted no time. His hands went to her hips, pulling her forward on the countertop so she was at the very edge before wrapping a hand around his hard cock, lining it up at her entrance before pushing it in slowly. He would never tire of this - feeling the way she gave around him, taking him in. A perfect fit. As he entered her fully, all thoughts left him, as they usually did. He lightly bit down on her shoulder as he held her legs apart, thrusting slowly at first, then picking up speed. The sound of their bodies hitting together and their soft pants and grunts the only noise in the small cabin. 

“I will admit I don’t think I will last long, my dear. You feel too good this morning,” he panted, fucking her harder, feeling the familiar tension in his abdomen as he got closer to release. He could feel her tightening around him, knowing she was close as well. Knowing he could bring her to her own precipice this quickly helped spur him on. He reached between them, his fingers circling her clit, rubbing that precious bundle of nerves he loved to pay special attention to. 

She cried out as he rubbed her, holding onto his arms tightly. “Make me come with you,” she panted 

He fucked her hard, each stroke punctuated as he almost pulled out of her before slamming back in, keeping a good pace. He knew she liked it when he was steady. He felt her tightening up, her body going still. She was almost there. He leaned in. “Come for me Ora, I want to feel you around me, then I want to come deep inside you.”

His filthy words, his warm breath on her ear sent her over the edge. She gripped on to him, crying out loudly as her body tightened up and let go, orgasm rocking through her, feeling him fuck her through it. 

“That’s it,” he whispered, his strokes picking up speed as she came, his groans getting louder as he got closer and closer before he found his own release, crashing into her, spilling his seed deep inside her. He finally slowed down, a satisfied exhaustion creeping into his bones as he laid his head on her shoulder, laughing as he looked at her - she was covered in flour handprints, and he assumed he was as well.

“We should bake together more often,” she teased before he kissed her again.

[hanasnx]

parasomnia

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 0.6k NOTES: this is based on a real-life occurrence. i want to stress this is not an infringement upon anyone’s boundaries in this drabble, reader only sees it as an issue at first because she doesn’t understand what’s actually going on. but as soon as her and anakin understand it together, hes able to give her consent to follow through with it unless she doesnt want to. | even when reader is following through and allowing unconscious anakin to have his way with her, anakin never sees it as an issue bcos hes a somnophiliac and hes def said its fine to hop on his dick in the middle of the night if the urge is that bad WARNINGS: f reader | smutty material | sexsomnia | at one point he tries to make her give him a bj (in his sleep) and she doesnt want to and doesnt know hes asleep so shes mad and when he wakes up he has no idea he did it | somnophilia in a way i think | vag fingering mention | humping mention

ANAKIN SKYWALKER had gone his entire life not knowing. He’s only ever shared a bed with you during his adult life. For a time, you didn’t even think to mention it— which continues to boggle his mind.

Everyone’s had wet dreams, some even sleepwalk. In Anakin’s rare case, his muscle memory recreates sexual events in which he has no recollection the following day.

At first, you didn’t realize he’d been asleep. When he touched you so deliberately; took hold of your hips to hump you to his heart’s desire; even going as far as to stick his hand down your pants in search of your sex… he would even speak during it sometimes. It was near impossible for you to deduce he wasn’t conscious.

It simply wasn’t plausible in your brain that he could, quite literally, finger you to completion in his sleep.

The occurrence that blew the case wide open, was the day Anakin went to bed early. When you joined him, he’d said a couple words to you. The standard exchanges, how tired he was and that he’s happy you’re with him now. You were sat upright, rearranging the covers he’d disheveled. As soon as you settled in, about to lay down, Anakin did the unexpected. In a swift motion, he tugged down his pants and palmed the back of your head, directing you downwards to his exposed cock.

You dodged out of the way, and because of its suddenness, you were maddened to say the least. There was no warning, no ask for consent, how could he do that? You shoved him, not registering how his arm now lay dead at his side, and his closed eyes were turned away from you.

Once awoken, you questioned him of his recent actions, but he had no memory of it. The situation caused the both of you to keep an eye on such a thing.

It only exacerbated. The longer you two spent together, the more you copulated, hammering in those exact movements until even his subconscious is imprinted. He’d instigated actual coitus several times, only to slow to a stop once exerting enough to rouse himself. Halted mid-thrust, he gains a clarity in his eyes that is unmistakable, and you mentally smack your forehead every time while he remains rooted inside you. Both of you feel the need to explain yourselves, as if you’d done wrong when it’s not your fault he’s so damn convincing and it’s not his fault he’s capable of something like this.

It took you a while to understand the difference between how he initiated sex conscious and unconsciously. You’d exhausted him with your questions during a time he really was awake. Interrogating him with nonsensical inquiries that would let you know he was consenting to this truly. To the point that Anakin had to cover your mouth so he could fuck your hole in peace.

It’d gotten so frequent, that Anakin believed his body to be seeking satiation for a purpose. Perhaps he’s not as fulfilled as he thought, physicality is very important to him, but he never suspected he craved it even during rest. So, he told you, that there’s no need to check his presence. If you’re into it, let him fuck you. Occasionally, he gets lucky enough to awaken in the middle of it to a most pleasant surprise.

[sharkgirldick]

Some butch repairwoman x fancy robot yuri I started writing to pass the time at work.

I'm probably never going to finish it.

Legally speaking, what I do isn't robot repair. I don't have a license to fix or maintain even simple robots, let alone sentients. I'm qualified as IT repair and maintenance only, meaning I could fix your home computer, hologram projector, or even your fridge if it's the right model. Thankfully, I get enough of things like that, so my robot repair flies under the radar.

The thing that sets me apart from others in my field, aside from my dubious legal status, is the fact that I do house calls. Most places have a repair bay, and they'll expect a robot to get there, one way or another. I got a lot of my early business through leg repairs because of that, but now I get a wide array of work thanks to my reputation. Today was an eye fix, which was surprisingly common. Robotic eyes require regular calibration, but the majority of the time a robot can get away with just running a diagnostic once or twice a year. It's an eye, after all, they're meant to last. Still, that leads to the robot version of lazy eye, and can cause minor damage that needs to be repaired. If you're not lucky, the neuro-circuits of the eye can be damaged, which is a more intensive repair.

My client today is one of the less lucky ones.

I won't bore you with the details of neuro-circuit replacement, but I'll say it's long, time consuming, and awkwardly intimate work. You're up in someone's face for hours, after all. I can't count the number of dates I've been asked on after doing eye repairs. It probably doesn't help that I neatly fit into the butch repairwoman stereotype pretty well.

The walk to this client's house wasn't too bad, only about four miles from my combination apartment and shop. Despite the doorbell, I knocked on the door. The door itself was wood, a beautifully dark-stained piece that fit the small brick abode pretty well. The whole place was an oddity all its own, as most things meant to be sturdy these days are made out of metal or meldplastic.

After a moment, my client answered the door. I had to admit, I was a little dazzled. She was a very new model of Empyrean-tier pureframe biomock. That is, she looked practically human. Or, she did at some point. Instead of a standard dermal coating, she had a thin, clear layer of what I assume was custom-made silicone cover. Beneath that, the mechanisms keeping her body moving and running whirred and clicked and turned and pumped. I could probably spend hours, or even days, just sitting and examining those parts. It was really rare that I got to work with high end robots, but I've never gotten this close to one this state of the art.

"Veronica?" The sound of her voice snapped me out of my long examination. It was rude to stare at someone's body, robot or not. My own eyes moved up to meet hers. The eye that needed repair was completely out of its socket, and would probably look incredibly creepy if it wasn't a sight I was used to.

"Yep, and you're uh…" I glanced down at my schedule sheet. She was the only name on there. She had offered me a lot of money for this repair, so I had cleared my schedule. Now I understood why. "Ace?"

"Correct. Please, come in." I followed behind her. The next surprise was the interior of her house. It was incredibly old school. The floors were, again, dark stained wood, and there were flowers painted all over the walls. The furniture was clearly not factory made. She didn't even have a hologram projector, just an old school flat screen TV. She wasn't just an expensive model, she was expensive all around.

"I get the feeling you could afford better repair work than mine."

"Perhaps." She sounded amused. "Though you were highly recommended, both for your work and your looks. You are quite the specimen." I glanced down at my outfit. I was wearing a black flannel shirt tucked into a pair of jeans and a set of black steel-toed boots. Guess I really wasn't beating the stereotype.

"Would it be vain to say I get that a lot?"

"Only if you were lying." She led me to the end of a main hallway, and entered a room, flicking on the light as she did. Even more old school wiring: She had a manual light switch. Inside, the floors gave way to more modern flat white meldplastic, with a simple metal table and repair desk set up. It wasn't a repair bay, but the fact that she had her own place for maintenance showed that she was able to get personal work done whenever she needed. I almost felt a little out of place.

She hopped up up onto the table and turned toward me. "You may begin when you are ready." With a nod, I set my toolbox and materials out on the desk, then turned towards Ace.

Without preamble, I found the seam where her outer sleeve joined at the neck, and carefully peeled it off, my skin brushing the frame of her skull. I heard a soft click as I did, but I ignored it. I assumed she would tell me if I did something wrong. I opened her face plate and got to work.

We didn't talk. At all. She could have easily spoken, since she didn't need to move her mouth or jaw to if she used a speaker. Still, if she wasn't going to talk, I wouldn't bother either. Eventually, I put a cap on the neuro-circuits I was using and haphazardly stuffed them into the empty socket. Nothing should get damaged that way. I closed her face plate and slipped her cover back over her head. When it was sealed, she spoke up again.

"You don't appear to be finished." Her working eye stared into me.

"I need a break. This is a lot of small, particular work, and I'm getting hungry. It's been two hours."

"And ninteen minutes. Please, have your meal in my kitchen. Do you need anything to eat?"

"You keep food?"

"I do when I am expecting human guests." She smiled at me indulgently.

"Ah, well, I can eat fast if you've got guests coming over." At that, she laughed.

"You are my guest, Veronica. So take all the time, and food, that you need."

I stepped over to my toolbox, setting down the things I was using, and pulling out the lunchbox I brought with me. "No need." I started to leave the room, and she slid off the table, following me. Her kitchen, which I had only gotten a glance of, was as gorgeous as the rest of the house. The floor was a polished stone, and all of the counters were a gleaming marble. The cabinets were more of the same dark wood. Sitting on the counter was a small plate of chocolate chip cookies.

There wasn't a table, but there were chairs around the central island, so I took a seat there and laid out my little lunch: A sandwich, a small bag of chips, and a sports drink.

"No instant-nutrition?" Ace inquired.

"That stuff tastes awful, plus having a full stomach after eating something so small just doesn't feel right."

"I have been told that it tastes like nothing."

"Well, bland is the same as bad to me. I like to taste my food." At that, she chuckles, and continues to watch me eat.

[linkspooky]

ON MADELYNE PRYOR

Shout out to all the comic book stans who follow my blog.

So X-Men 97 inspired me to do a re-read of X-Men from the beginning. My previous read of X-Men jumped all over the place, it was basically X-Men up to Dark Phoenix and then I jumped all the way to the 2000s to 2010s. In my current read I just got to Inferno and holy fuck mom, I never thought I'd like an X-Men arc more than Dark Phoenix but here we are.

This is an entirely personal opinion which I'm not as good at expressing because I prefer over-intellectualizing my feelings, but Inferno is the only other comic book arc to make me feel the way that Judas Cotract did in how tightly and perfectly written as a tragedy it is especially for the female at its center.

Are there any women in all of fiction more doomed by the narrative than Terra Markov and Madelyne Pryor?

I mean I've written about Judas Contract before but what makes that arc so special to me is how it's about a character, a victim, a girl named Terra who by all rights should have been saved by the heroes, but not only fails every step of the way but at every point in her life really. Terra is someone how manifests her victimhood in completely unsympathetic ways but the fact that she basically had no chance in life makes her sympathetic nonetheless.

This comes from the decision that Perez and Wolfram made right from the start to kill her off and never offer her any redemption, which while incredibly callous on the author's part just makes the tragedy even stronger. That's what tragedy is, it's meat to reflect the cruelty and unfairness of life, it's kind of like reality bleeding into fiction.

George’s strength was he also understood the characters 100 percent as I did so there was never any question. He knew. We had talked enough about the characters to know we were exactly on the same page with them. So I said, “Everyone keeps complaining that we’re like the X-Men” and the X-Men had just gotten Kitty Pryde. I said, “Why don’t we really screw around with them completely?” — this is the fans — “…and make them think we’re stealing Kitty Pryde only she’s gonna be bad from Day One.” You always had characters pop up, certainly at Marvel, who were bad that get redeemed. But this character would never get redeemed. She was insane. In fact, she was the catalyst for everything. She wasn’t working for Deathstroke. He was working for her in many ways and she was leading him because she’s crazy. She’s a total psychopath… and she’d be 15. 

Terra's a total psychopath and she's fifteen and that's the tragedy. Was there really any other way that Terra could have turned out? A girl who has been abandoned, who was given incredible powers but no love, support, or nurturing and clearly doesn't have a home or any stability in her life if she's working as a mercenary at that young. A girl who thinks herself a villain and a player in the game but is clearly being manipulated by a fifty plus year old man who is smarter, more mature, and a serial user and abuser of people.

Terra's not just the villain, she's the protagonist of the tragedy walking through the play unknowing that her every single decision will lead to her inevitable end.

Judas Cotract and Inferno are two arcs that most evoke the feel of the Tower in Tarot to me. The Tower is just, ruin and destruction, a complete loss of control, the realization that everything you thought was wrong and in fact the world doesn't care much about what you think. It's a reminder that life isn't even cruel, it's nothing, it's random.

However, first you have to build up the tower before you start pulling the jenga blocks out one by one. Terra spends several arcs with the Teen Titans showing disturbing unchildlike behavior, but one of the so-called Heroes even notice that there's something wrong. When she does get close to blowing her cover, a violent incident where she nearly badly hurts Beast Boy after he comes onto her way too hard which is an understandable reaction as a victim of SA that gets brushed under the rug too.

It makes the heroes look worse as well. If they were heroes dedicated to saving people at all costs shouldn't they have noticed the trouble of someone right next to them? Yet, they all kind of collectively remain oblivious the same way that most victims in real life especially of Terra's kind of trauma are left to suffer in silence. Not to say the Teen Titans are bad, they are kids, and therefore it makes sense they don't have the emotional maturity to notice - it just makes them look more human.

So to summarize my point above what makes Judas Contract is a good tragedy and why Inferno makes me feel the same way narrows down to two reasons.

Madelyne and Terra are both doomed by the narrative, there was no saving them right from the beginning.

However, the fact that the heroes failed to save them reflects poorly on them.

Finally, Madelyne Pryor.

Oh Madelyne the world did you so dirty. I'm partially to blame because I skipped right to the 2000s in my first read, but before this point I'd known nothing about Madelyne other than that she was a clone of Jean Grey who died.

My first impressions of her when she was introduced shortly after Dark Phoenix weren't all that great either. Chris Claremont writes good female characters, that's not really a hot take. I'm sure you've heard of Storm, Rogue, Mystique, Kitty Pryde, Emma Frost etc.

However, I've noticed there are like two tiers of female characters he tends to write. There are the first stringers which are your storms, your rogues, these are characters who are meant to be independent and have arcs. Then there are the second stringers who are just meat to serve a role in the story. This isn't a criticism on the way Claremont writes women, I mean all stories have major and minor characters.

Madelyne Pryor was never meant to be a main character. There wasn't anything about her character that I disliked per se, she is independent, she seemed to have a life outside of Cyclops, she tries really hard to separate herself from the image of Jean Grey. However, she was clearly written to give Cyclops a wife and child in the aftermath of Jean's death and a reason to retire.

While the editorial mandate that made Claremont pull Cyclops out of his happy ending so he could rejoin a team with the original five x-men for the sake of nostalgia sucks, it is also the best thing to happen to Madelyne's character.

Madelyne before that point was a perfectly functional character for her role but she wasn't all that dynamic, she liked planes, she didn't like Jean's ghost hanging over her, she's pretty spunky and headstrong but she was at most a good supporting character but that's all she was. Claremont just decided to double down on that, Scott actually treats his wife like she exists to do nothing but support him and his emotional issues. Madelyne gives all the support that she can give and then Scott just up and leaves anyway. The woman who only existed to be a love interest to give Scott a happy ending, now has no other reason to exist without the man she's supposed to love and her happy ending turns to ash in her mouth.

This is the same feeling I was talking about with Terra, this is a person who was basically failed at every step of the way. A person who has no family. no support, it's almost worse in this case because Madelyne thought she did only for that person to toss her aside.

There's no saving Madelyne, and the fact that Scott didn't save her, that he didn't both trying until he was too late makes him the villain.

If anything Inferno is better than Judas Contract at dragging the heroes down to their lowest points, because The Teen Titans failing to save Terra is understandable because of how young they are but there's no excusing Scott's actions. Madelyne may run around in a skimpy outfit calling herself the goblin queen but the villain of this story is named Scott Summers. He had a responsibility and obligation towards Madelyne to save her and he failed, and it makes him a bad hero and an even worse person.

One of the key components of a tragedy is also agency. Agency is basically the freedom a character has to choose and how much their choices matter in the grand scheme of things and impact their narratives.

Tragedies are often defined by how little agency the characters are shown to have, and how limited their range of choices are. One of the biggest themes of tragedy is fate and inevitability at all. For example one of my favorite tragedies antigone is about a girl with very little power in the ancient greek city of Thebes who still makes a choice to give her brother a proper burial even though she knows she'll be executed for it.

Dark Phoenix is all about agency. Jean Grey is dealing with three different forces trying to take her mind, her agency. There's the corrupting influence of Phoenix, there's the Hellfire Club who wants to make her into a puppet, and then there's Charles Xavier who wants to put a lid on her tremendous powers. Everyone trying to take agency away from Jean eventually leads her to snap and try to take all of that agency back by embracing godhood because who has more agency, more control than a god? Even Jean's act of killing herself at the end was reclaiming her agency, it's her choice to die as a human rather than be executed, or to lose herself to the phoenix.

What breaks Madelyne is not Scott leaving her. Which made me like her character a lot, like the moment Scott left Madelyne was shown just how stubborn and determined she was. Madelyne stood out as the only normal human amongst the x-men who still held her own like Moira did (i guess Moira is a mutant now but I'm still in the 80s so w/e).

What breaks her is the revelation that she never had any agency in her life to begin with. Scott was always meant to fall in love with her, he was always meant to leave her, because she was nothing more than a womb for Sinister's breeding project. Once again it's masterful how Scott looks equally as villainous as Sinister in this scenario in how neither of them regards Madelyne as a person, just an object to project their desires upon.

(Honestly Jean Grey doesn't come out looking all that great either considering how little sympathy she has for Madelyne because she just sees her as an obstacle to getting back together with Scott. If anyone Jean should sympathize with Madelyne the most because they've both been toyed with cosmic forces out of their control, but I guess it goes to show how selfish and destructive Jean and Scott's love for each can be).

Is there any sequence more tragic in all of comics than this series of panels?

The symbolism in these panels too and how it relates to the themes of agency with Madelyne's character. Madelyne was a free and self-driven woman (or at least she thought she was) living out her dream of being a pilot which to her the ability to fly her wings represents her freedom and indepedence. The only thing she thought that could make her happier was Scott, but in the end not only did Scott take her wings away, he took away her everything and gave it to someone else.

"Time to lose those wings, Maddie. You can't really fly, anyway. You're not special like us."

If there's any words to express the inherent tragedy of Maddie's character is this, she's a person who thought she was free to fly, that she was real, that her life mattered only to have all that taken away from her. Maddie like Terra thinks she has agency that she's making decisions but she had no real choices from the beginning.

That's also a good way to express what makes tragedies hit as hard as they do. Tragedies slap you with the realization that you're not special. The hero is not a hero, they don't have plot armor, they're not immune to consequences, they're human and just like all humans they fail.

Even the act that Madelyne thinks is reclaiming her agency by gaining power as the Goblin Queen is in fact, not her choice. She doesn't choose to sell her soul, she's tricked into doing it by a rebellious demon that wants to kick Illyana out and reclaim limbo for himself. In Madelyne's one act of trying to steal back her power and freedom she is still just a pawn in another person's scheme.

There's also Madelyne going through literal hell itself to reclaim her son, only to make the decision to sacrifice him along with several other infants which seems to make her usympathetic but ironically makes her more sympathetic to me.

There's the obvious reference to Medea there. If all the parallels aren't obvious enough already, Jason and the Argonauts gets namedropped during the arc.

One of my favorite things about Medea the tragedy by Euripedes is that Medea is not just a girlboss who gets revenge on Jason and then walks away. Straightforward revenge narratives are bad because revenge is... bad actually. The decision to inflict more pain and suffering in the world doesn't break the chain of suffering.

Medea kills her children to show that Jason is not entirely in the wrong, and Medea is not entirely in the right. They are two human beings who's relationship is blowing up in the worst way possible. I mean Jason himself does have some points in the play, he's making a political marriage to save both of them, the only reason he's exiling Medea is because Medea made loud death threats at Jason's new bride. It's not just the heartbreak of being abandoned that drives Medea, it's her pride, the whole play started because Medea didn't want to settle for being a side chick.

Medea wants revenge against Jason but she doesn't take her revenge on Jason, she takes revenge on everyone around him for the purpose of making him feel as alone and lost as he did her. She'll kill her own children, even if it kills her to do so, just to spite him a little more.

Which leads to one of my favorite scenes in all of fiction, Medea holding the knife over her own child's throat, bargaining with herself trying to convince herself to do something she objectively knows is wrong.

MEDEA I’ve made up my mind, my friends. I’ll do it—kill my children now, without delay, and flee this land. I must not hesitate. That would hand them over to someone else to be slaughtered by a hand less loving.                                      No matter what, the children have to die. Since that’s the case, then I, who gave them life,                                will kill them. Arm yourself for this, my heart. Why do I put off doing this dreadful act, since it must be done? Come, pick up the sword, wretched hand of mine. Pick up the sword, move to where your life of misery begins. Don’t play the coward. Don’t remember now how much you love them, how you gave them life. For this short day forget they are your children                          and mourn them later. Although you kill them, still you loved them. As a woman, I’m so sad.     

Why would Madelyne after going through all that trouble to find her son, instead choose to give him to the fire? It's because for a person who was given so little choice over her own life, the choice to self-destruct is still a choice. The choice to destroy something with your own hands rather than let it be destroyed for someone else is still a choice.

That would hand them over to someone else to be slaughtered by a hand less loving.                                      No matter what, the children have to die. Since that’s the case, then I, who gave them life,                                will kill them.

I think I may like Madelyne more than Jean at this point?

The same way I like Terra more than Raven. They're very similiar characters, but it takes possession by Trigon to get Raven to attack the titans. Terra just tries to kill them by her own free will. She's willing to bury herself if it gives her one last chance at burying the titans to too. Madelyne on the other hand is willing to walk barefoot into hell, if it means she can drag Scott and the X-Men with her. Jean does things under the influence of the Phoenix, but she chose to die as a human being at the end of Dark Phoenix. Madelyne however made the opposite choice, throwing all her humanity away she gave herself wholly and unreservedly to the fire.

Also damn, x-men 97 did this arc so dirty by speedrunning through it in one episode. This is also one of the most well set-up arcs in the X-Men comics with so many threads like X-Factor, X-Men and New Mutants all coming together. It really deserved its own season not like 2 episodes, and then Madelyne dying halfway through this season.

[nescaveckwriter]

Invisible Wall🩷

Line: Broken Vows 😱 will be in bold

A/N: YAY! Yet another one done for @jacklesversebingo 🐞 so excited for this one, and its a little bit of 'Beau Arlen' 🤩.. hope y'all like it.

Warnings: Some language, also slight smut😱 that's all so far I know.!

Characters: Beau Arlen x Reader

Cover: Created by me. Also images from Pinterest and Canva.

Words:1209

"Hell no! I can't do this anymore, I can't go on pretending everything is fine, when it's not" she thought to herself glancing at the man, whom she shares a bed with! Inspecting his face as he sleeps, his brown hair, draped over his forehead, his eyes closed, his lips relaxed as he probably dreams, about something other than you.

Your not really sure when the relationship started to shift, but it's been a while now. The two of you share a bed, but it's like there's this invisible wall, between your bodies, as neither one of you hold eachother anymore.

A half smile forming on your lips as you recall the love you two shared, the way you could not keep your hands of eachother, the way your bodies were entwined till the early morning hours, tired the whole day at work as the two of you would lay all tangled up, talking for hours, about your dreams, and building a future together, but now it feels like that passion, that love, is crumbling. And now your realising all you have left is broken vows.

To have and to hold forever and always seems so unreachable, so far fetched, so painstakingly far from the truth. You hardly ever talk to eachother, the last time you tasted his lips? Can't even recall, he just waves goodbye as he goes too work, and you, are left, wondering how it all came too this.

If only you can feel his arms around you, once more, if only he can push you up against a wall, and claim you like he used too. Feeling him shift on the bed, as the alarm goes off, you get up, quickly, trying to remove the tears staining your face, you stride to the bathroom.

His deep voice laced with an Southern Accent, let's you turn around. "You alright"

You wanted too scream and say NO! But you opt out for a simple "yes"

Closing the door in his face hearing his frustrated sigh, is enough too open the flood gate burning behind your eyes.

Listening too her cry, she tries too hide it, but he heard her, laying next too him, of course he kept his eyes closed, acting like he was asleep, but all he wanted too do, is pull her closer too his chest, place loving kisses on her lips, but he knows the dynamics of their marriage has been off for awhile. Knowing it's his fault mostly, the case his been working on has kept him occupied, not really having the energy to come home, and make her feel loved like his supposed too, in full honesty he misses her, but he always had this bad habit of withdrawing if a case has gotten to much for him, not wanting to share the brutal stuff his seen, or the fact he almost got shot, if she should find that out, she'll never be able to find rest, she worries so much about him already.

Walking out of the bathroom, not a trace of the tears that just stained your face, you see him sitting there, "Beau, are you okay?"

His green eyes pierces through yours, "No, no I'm not okay, we aren't okay"

Shocked by his response, you just stood there, searching for the right words too find

He gets up, walking towards you, his voice heavy "Baby, I... I'm so sorry, I know I haven't been the best husband, hell I haven't even been a good man"

The only words you get out is "why"

His jaw clenched, running his hand over his distressed face "because, something happened at work, and..."

Your eyes widen, your voice brittle, "what? What happened?" Thinking the worst, did something dangerous happen is he cheating on you, what can it be!

He plunges down on the end of the bed, "I almost got my head blown off" seeing the fear on her beautiful face, as she's about to open her mouth to say something, he silences her "the important thing is the bullet missed me by a couple of inches, and the only thing I could think off, wasn't that I could die, it was that I will never be able too hold you again" clearing his throat, to swallow the emotion away "I know it doesn't make sense, pushing you away, when all really want to do is pull you close and never let you go, but this... This fear I feel of losing you, its clouding my judgement, its making it hard to focus on the job, I'm the sheriff, I'm the one who should be willing to first in the line of fire, but the idea of not..." He can't even form the words anymore.

You just fall down to your knees in front of him .

Analysing his face, every freckle, every line, the way his beard hugs his perfect jaw line, the dampness in his forest green eyes, his lips as he starts to speak, his voice laced with emotion "the idea of not being around, to see the two of us grow old together, it scares me to death baby" looking down to the ground, to hide the fear in his eyes

Placing your small hand underneath his chin, lifting it to where you can look him straight in the eyes, You begun to speak,your voice shaky, "Beau, darling, why didn't you tell me about this, I'm your wife, I'm here to support you through anything even if it scares me."

He thumbs away your tears, his voice low "Baby, I don't want you too think I'm weak, it's just..."

You gasp, "What! I'll never think that, you know I think the world of you, your the bravest person I know, and I love you"

Your lower lip trembling, "I just wish you told me sooner, I... I thought you," your voice only a mere whisper, "you didn't love me anymore, that you've found someone else"

Flinching at the words you just said he looks at you, "Baby, I would never, not love love you, you are my everything, honey if anything I love you more than life itself"

Sobbing frantically now, you glance at your husband , knowing he still loves you a smile tugs at your lips.

He plunges down to his knees, cupping your face he places a kiss, on your lips, without any warning his kisses becomes hungrier, his fingers playing with your hair as his tongue dances with yours in a fiery passion.

His hands roaming over your body, removing every piece of fabric, so that he can ravish you, making you feel his love as he places kisses on every little inch of your bare skin.

He lifts you up, letting you down, on the bed, you spend the rest of the morning entangled in eachother's arms, the invisible wall, crumbling and coming to a fall, as your husband, shows you exactly what you mean too him, as the two of you lay there, out of breathe, and with hearts full of love, realizing, what happened this morning, doesn't automatically fix all the problems, the two of you face, but at least now you'll face it together, as husband and wife, Mr and Mrs Arlen.