#i was Feeling It i needed to Rant About He

[acoazlove]

A New Place | part five

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Summary: A couple of weeks after your conversation with Azriel, your mind won’t let you sleep. what happens when the person on your mind can’t sleep either

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: Angst, Fluff ? maybe?

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Eyes flutter open, blinking a few times to reorient yourself. Adjusting to the dark room. You turn your head towards the windows, dark. Still nighttime.

With a heavy sigh, you heave yourself out of bed. Waking up hasn’t been such a task since you were human. Living in that cabin—if you can call it that. Waking up back then was simpler.

But since you left your sisters and the rest of their family, you can’t bring yourself to care if you don't get out of bed ever again.

Pulling the covers off of you, sliding out of bed. Your feet meet the chilled floor while making your way blindly into the bathroom. Turning on a dim faelight.

Everything about your apartment is old, and worn down and you used to think it gave it character, made it unique. But as you look at the light you can’t help but wish it was the old cabin. Life was easier back then, no fae, no wars, no monsters, no evil kings or cauldrons, but most of all, you had your sisters. Of course you were all on the verge of starving or freezing to death. You don’t miss that.

Despite the fighting, you were all closer. Now everyone’s gone their separate ways and have their own families and partners. You don't have any of that. That thought breaks you from your reverie, turning to the mirror hanging above the sink. The edges are slightly rusted and the frame is a bit scratched.

Locking eyes with your reflection, you cringe. Dark shadows under your eyes, hair messy and frizzy as if you hadn’t brushed it in days, shoulders tense with undercurrents of your strained emotions. You look exactly how you feel. Tired.

Ignore it. A small voice in the back of your mind. You turn the tap and splash water on your face. There’s no going back to sleep so might as well do something.

Turning back and entering your bedroom, heading straight for your wardrobe. Putting on the first thing you grab. Staring in the mirror for a moment too long, you grimace once again at your reflection. How long had you looked a mess? Your friends would tell you if you didn’t look okay. Right?

With a heavy sigh, you exited your room. Passing the kitchen—you’re not feeling well, you’ll eat later, you tell yourself—and go straight to the front door, grabbing your coat as you glance at the clock on the wall by the door. 4:00 am, no wonder everything’s so quiet.

Without another thought, you slip out the door. You can’t be in that apartment for another moment. Shoving your hands into your pockets, you decide to clear your mind and go for a walk. Because walking down dark streets at 4:00 am is totally normal.

You miss the small shadow slipping under the door, following you. A second one going in the opposite direction, away from you.

─

Meandering down the streets of The City of Starlight, your thoughts wander despite trying to clear your head.

Wandering to a certain shadow-wielding Illyrian. Your conversation had been two weeks ago now. You wanted to talk to him again. or at least just see him.

You huff. Where had that thought come from? I mean he was kind enough to go for a walk with you and listen to you rant.

But he hadn’t exactly offered to be the company you’d seek out, but you’ve been lonely. You’re not sure if you’re ready to forgive your family just yet. You want to, but you won’t reach out first. They need to put in the effort for once.

Surprisingly—or unsurprisingly you should think—there are a few fae still wandering the streets. Maybe they were in your position too. Can’t sleep, and might just need to clear their mind, and get some night-chilled air

The Court of Dreams. It honestly doesn’t feel like it. You don’t feel like you’re dreaming. Nor had any of your own dreams had come true. It felt more like a nightmare.

Alone. All because your family forgot your birthday. You think bitterly. But then again, the more you think about it, you find more reasons that had been chipping away at your patience with them. It just happened to explode into a huge freakout on your birthday. The last straw.

They probably thought you were being overdramatic. You kick a small stone on the ground in front of you at that.

─

Tossing and turning, wings shifting uncomfortably, azriel grunts as he clenches his eyes shut. Trying to get some sleep for once, only for it to be just out of reach.

It’s like his mind was in overdrive—every thought shifting to another even more unwanted one—making him restless, which in time made his shadows restless. The main issue was that they weren’t telling him what was wrong. he doesn’t like that.

Finally, as his body relaxed and he was so close to falling asleep a new shadow joins the mix. Immediately slithering across his bed until it reached his ear. The information he received had him shooting up from where he had been lying down, and every last ounce of tiredness drained from his body.

She’s going for a walk. He glanced out his window. With how high the moon was in the sky he gathered that it was around four in the morning-

Why are you going for a walk at this time?

With a huff, knowing he won’t be able to sleep at all now, he pulls the blankets off him at the same time as sending a few more shadows to follow you, to make sure you’re okay and not in any danger of course.

Azriel hasn’t been able to get the conversation he had with you either. Well, it was more him listening as you spoke your mind, plus him apologising a few times and getting some of his thoughts out there. Or maybe it was just you in general. He can’t quite figure it out.

Now that he was out of bed he realized he didn’t actually know what he was planning to do with the situation. You’re going for a walk at four in the morning. You won’t want company. Besides, he already sent a few shadows. That should be fine.

The rest of Azriel’s shadows whirl around him, still agitated. Wanting him to do something, but still not telling him what. A long-suffering sigh leaves him, as he turns to look at his leathers, which are hanging over the back of the chair at his desk—thrown there after a long day—then back to the window.

He’s been staying in the townhouse since his last encounter with you, to make it easier for you if you want to seek him out and don’t want to see the rest of the family. Which you haven't. Why would you?

He also has a better view of the streets of Velaris from here. Which is why he sees a figure walk down the street, heading towards the sidra. Though he can’t see their face, he doesn’t need confirmation to know who it is. The posture, the way your shoes scuff when you walk while in thought, the way your hair falls with your head down.

Nevertheless, a shadow snakes up his arm, to his ear. Sad. Confused. Angry. Guilty. Lonely. The last word repeats over and over.

Azriel’s features contort into a frown. Watching as you disappear from view, having turned a corner. And without a second thought, he put on a change of clothes—deciding that if you do see him, his leathers possibly might make you uncomfortable, might think that there’s some kind of danger—opening up the balcony doors, stepping out and launching into the starry night sky. Following the direction you went, keeping a decent distance.

As he catches sight of you once again, slows down, descending to the ground. Landing as silent as he could for a massive Illyrian male.

Azriel steps into the shadows, trying to stay out of view and give you space.

He stands there feeling slightly awkward suddenly. Never has he felt that way about watching his family. Confused and caught off guard he misses the way his grip on his shadows loosens, most of which scramble their way over to you.

Already reaching your feet before he finally realizes, much to his horror. Frantically trying to yank them back to his own body.

─

Your train of thought is interrupted by small shadows softly brushing against your ankles before, slinking up your legs and entwining with your fingers. A soft smile curves your lips, as a scuff sounds from behind you.

“Hi Az.” your voice is soft. Looking over your shoulder, at the same time as he steps out from his hiding place. And even though it’s dark and void of any street lamp where you are, the stars and moon light his face enough for you to see the pink tinge to his cheeks. The sight brings you far more enjoyment than it should.

“Sorry.” he mutters lowly, watching the shadows almost reluctantly untangle itself from your fingers and body, returning to their master. “They have a mind of their own sometimes.”

Your smile widens ever so slightly, “It’s okay,” turning back to your beautiful view of the sidra, shimmering like the stars above. “I like them. They’re good company.”

Azriel blinks a few times, dumbfounded by your admission. You like them and think they’re good company. Not many think so. A lot of people perceive them differently. Not inherently scary, but wouldn’t consider them good company.

After a long moment he gathers himself. “Would you-” he stops himself mid-sentence, mouth snapping shut before the full question is out. But rather than running in the other direction like he assumed you would, you turned to face him, “Yes, I would like company Azriel.” That certainly caught him off guard.

You aren’t quite sure where the confidence came from. Cheeks tinting pink, gaze darting back to the sparkling sapphire river. You don’t even know if he was going to say that.

Right as you prepare yourself to leave, utterly mortified, his dark figure enters your peripheral.

Shoulders still stiff from the previous embarrassment you look out the corner of your eye. Thanking the mother when you see that his attention is elsewhere.

Your gaze casts downward, suddenly feeling awkward, you clear your throat, causing the Shadowsinger's attention to shift back to you.

Shifting between your feet, turning your head slightly to glance at him, “Uh…” Unsure.

You watch a shadow crawl around from his shoulder to his ear. a twitch between his brows at whatever information he had been given, before evening back out. Body turning fully toward you. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

Your eyes widen marginally. “No!” you say all too quickly, rubbing a hand down your face. “No, I’m just not-” gaze meeting hazel, “I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to go for a walk?” Voice quieter than before, “Rather than just standing here.” Trailing off.

His wings twitch at his back, you barely catch the movement, before he gives a gentle nod. You give him a small smile before whirling around, and heading back through the streets of Velaris. Azriel and his shadows follow closely behind before coming up next to you.

The walk settles into silence. Not awkward like before. Comfortable. That’s something you’d noticed about Azriel from the moment you first met him in the human realms. He always let others talk and listened intently to every word. Contributing to the conversation only when needed.

Your thoughts drift to every interaction with him. He’d always been observant and encouraged conversations with you. Wanting you to feel comfortable. Similar to what happened with Elain a long while ago. Except he’s never had any romantic feelings for you. He was just being polite. Just as he is now.

You ignore the turn in your thoughts. Weird. And your destination is only a few steps away. The bridge above the sidra. The place you come to when you really need some kind of white noise to clear your head.

You lean forward, over the bridge peering down at the broad sparkling river. Almost mirroring the beauty of the stars above. You feel Azriel settle next to you on the bridge. Twist your head to look at him. He’s looking up at the sky, shadows swirling contentedly around his shoulders and wings.

You take a moment to look at him. Really look at him. You always knew he was handsome, would have to be blind not to. But in the moonlight, he’s stunning. The way his dark hair falls over his forehead, shadows cast over his eyebrows, his other features highlighted. His hands resting on the bridge wall, the lighting illuminating the ridges and crevices of his scars.

Just in the corner of your vision, you see the sun starting to rise, pinks and oranges, painting the previous starlit skies. It was views like these that make you wonder what the other courts are like. The Night Court obviously has exceptionally beautiful night skies, the stars so clear you might think one could reach up and touch them.

But then there were The Dawn Court’s dawn skies. A customer at Benny’s Bar once told you that when the sun rose in dawn it was one of the most breathtaking views one could see, that you had to see it at least once in your immortal life.

The Day Court had some of the most incredible libraries filled with immense knowledge. Something you’d like to see and explore at least once too.

The seasonal courts had to be amazing as well, you hadn’t heard too much about them except Mor saying how much she loved The Winter Court because of her best friend and how beautiful the snow is, and briefly of Summer from when Varian is around with Amren. And Spring, well Feyre and Rhysand don’t like talking about The Spring Court, so you never asked. The same goes for The Autumn Court.

You feel a cool brush of Azriel’s shadows against your hand, pulling you from your longing, wrapping around your wrist almost as if to comfort. You let out a heavy sigh, your walk must have been longer than you anticipated. Originally just hoping to clear your head, and tire yourself out before going back to sleep.

You have work anyway. Early shift, which is fine, you get to finish early in turn.

Turning to the Shadowsinger, “I should head home. I have work earlier today.” You fiddle with your fingers, not wanting to to head back to your apartment just yet. Back to the tavern. You haven’t talked to your coworkers much since the inner circle dined at the tavern.

Azriel gives a small nod, watching your features for a few moments before speaking, “Would you like me to walk you home?”

without hesitation you give him a nod in answer. “yes please.” Your answer soft.

He gives you a gentle smile before turning with you to leave.

─

Standing at the bottom of the stairs to your apartment you run a hand down your face. Azriel is quiet behind you. You huff, spinning on your heel to face him. Trying to find the words to what you want to ask him.

He’s patient as always, features kind. Allowing you to sort through your thoughts.

Inhaling sharply, you open your mouth, then close it again. Frustrated, you just blurt it out instead, “Would you like to do something once I finish work today?”

Azriel’s brows raise fractionally, and your face heats up. “of course only if you’re free, or even want to. If you don’t want to that’s okay-“ You pause your rambling when you see the subtle smirk curving his lips.

“What?” You cross your arms over your chest. He huffs out a laugh. “You didn’t even give me a chance to answer,” keen eyes, observant as ever, see you shifting from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable from the lack of an actual answer. “I would like that. I’ll come by and you can decide.” Voice more quiet than before.

You give him a curt nod, happy with the response, turning toward your stairs once more, stopping at the top step, looking over your shoulder to the Shadowsinger, “Thank you az.” At the tilt of his head you continue, “For just… showing up, I guess. I appreciate it.” Smile at him and slip through your door before he can reply.

Azriel stares at the closed door for a few long moments before heading back to the townhouse. His shadows far more calm now. Interesting.

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a/n: Hi guys, I’m so so sorry that I took so long to post this but I was in a really bad writing slump and had other stuff going on in my life. I’m better right now and am planning on writing more. I know this isn’t the longer part that I asked you about but I just wanted to get this out, and it would’ve taken longer to come out. i’ve already started the next part as well. next week I probably won’t update just because I’m going to Australia with my sister for a week but you never know. Anyway I edited this but there still might be some mistakes. I love you all and thank you for your patience, I hope you enjoyed. <3

[noodlemoondle]

Promise Me You Won’t Cry Anymore

Zayne x Reader

word count: 800

summary: just a lil blurb about how Zayne reacts to accidentally making you cry

tags: not proof read!!, hurt/comfort, fluff, mentions of medicine. just zayne being a worried doctor really

authors note: hello again guys! ੭ ᐕ)੭*⁾⁾ I fully wrote this on a whim rn in like 10 minutes so pls take that into account lolol. (also it’s another hurt/comfort lolol it’s my fav tag and i don’t have any ideas for anything else) i also wanted this to be like a rlly short blurb but i think im genuinely unable to write anything that isn’t like around 1k words (´；ω；｀) i don’t really have anything else to say besides i hope i get motivation to write one of the million fic ideas i have saved in my notes soon.

as always hope you enjoy!! ✧*。٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و✧*。

Zayne is a strong man. Emotionally strong that is. The countless years he spent both studying and working in the medical field gave him thick skin and it made it difficult for things to truly get to him. It takes a lot for something to hit him in the heart and truly bring him down.

However, the one thing he absolutely can’t stand is you crying. Something about it he doesn’t truly know what. Something about the way your eyes tilt downwards with your head soon following, the small tremble of your lips he knows you’re fighting to keep still, the tear-glazed distant look in your eyes that just shows how hard you’re fighting back tears, nothing breaks his heart more.

Zayne knows, he knows he can be oh so overbearing when it comes to your health and safety, but god he can’t help it. Nothing worries him more than your, in his opinion fragile, wellbeing. Everyday on his drive to the hospital he prays to whatever god is out there that will listen to him that he won’t see you during his shift, at least not you being wheeled in through the back doors, completely unconscious on a gurney. He can’t even handle the thought of it.

It leads to his constant nagging over you. His constant worry. His constant lectures and scoldings whenever you even slightly overlook your health.

Which led to here. Another conversation that began as an overbearing reminder to take your medicine, only for Zayne to quickly discover you haven’t been taking recently. You’ve already had a tiring and stressful day and didn’t have any energy to fight back at him. So instead, you just stood there in front of him. Only looking at him as he continued his scolding on how important it was to take your medicine, why you need it, and never forgetting to remind you of just how fragile you truly are.

All you could do was look back at him, and just take everything he had to say without a fight. Not like you had the energy to speak anyways. To be honest, you didn’t even have the energy to think, or to even listen to him in that matter. All you really heard is just his upset voice, saying what?You’re not really sure, but his tone was enough to make you feel inferior.

Zayne didn’t notice. He honestly couldn’t. He was too caught up in his worries and imagination of what could possibly happen to you to be able to properly see you, but in the middle of his rant he did. He saw the look on your face that absolutely breaks his heart and makes him want to fall to his knees. He saw your head hung low, you fighting your trembling bottom lip, your downcast, distant eyes, that had tears in the brink of flowing through your pretty eyelashes and falling onto those darling cheeks he loves; especially when he sees them rise and round out whenever you smile.

And when he sees it, he stops. Instantly.

There is a quick moment of silence where he hesitates. Where he hears your uneven, haggard breathing and mentally scolds himself, grimacing at his actions.

He takes a few steps over to you and leans down to hold your face in his hands. Lifting it up so he can see you properly, however your eyes don’t follow and remain locked onto your fuzzy-socked feet. His gentle hold, contrasting his previous tone made it so difficult to keep it together. Just as he noticed a tear welling up to fall from your eyes he gently kisses it away before it could reach any further than the corner of your eye.

He softly rubs the apple of your cheek trying to coax you to bring your eyes up to him.

“Look at me… Please?” Zayne says ever so gently.

You knew if you did you wouldn’t be able to hold back your tears anymore, but the soft rub of his thumb brings your eyes up to look back at him. The moment you do, his eyes soften in guilt and regret, a slight frown forming on his lips when he sees your eyes welling up with more tears.

He slightly stands up, just enough to place a soft, delicate kiss on your forehead as he whispers against it.

“I’m sorry.”

Then you can’t hold it anymore. A soft gasp for air leaves your lips as tears begin to flow from your eyes. Zayne slowly pulls you into his chest, holding your head and running his fingers up and down your back in an effort to comfort you. In an effort to get you to forgive him. In an effort to get you to stop.

Guilt spreads throughout his whole body as he listens to your sobs and feels your tears wetting his shirt. He whispers apologies to you, offering soft kisses on the top of your head in between each one.

He’ll make it up to you. He doesn’t know exactly how yet, but he will. He’ll do anything. Whatever it takes to stop the flow of tears and broken sobs. Whatever it takes to see those darling, rosy cheeks rise up with the sweetest, brightest smile he’s ever seen. He’d do it in a heartbeat; because there is nothing, nothing Dr. Zayne can’t stand more than you crying.

[takes1]

Been thinking about Kyotani stealing Oikawa’s ex girlfriend after Oikawa is being an egotistical douche

are we interlinked or something? what the fffffuck i had this idea in the shower two days before this request came in? i'm trippin

accidentally falling for kyoutani (maddog)

warnings. nsfw to follow, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / angsty, smutty / jealous!oikawa / possessive!maddog / loneliness theme / pervy!maddog / light?coercion / popular x loser trope / 1.4k words / reply to be added for smutty part two.

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. requests open

It was the first time you had seen Tooru since he ditched you.

Three days, compared to one year of dating, wasn't enough for you to be ready to see his pretty face, his perfect hair, to hear his laugh ringing off the buildings outside, down the corridor.

You weren't wearing any make up, you had opted for your loose uniform sweater, and chose the ugliest, comfiest shoes possible this morning when you rolled out of bed. The desire to become invisible was fiction to start and fading regardless.

He would have to see how far you had fallen, if you didn't come up with an idea right away.

The Perfect Opportunity sat to your left, by himself, as usual. He was reading a book, an arm relaxed over open spot next to him.

Kyoutani was a bomb that needed to be handled carefully -- everybody knew that. This time you had to risk it.

You slid into that spot, right under his arm, faked the most genuine giggle you possibly could, pulled his hand in yours and leaned onto his chest to 'read' with him.

Your ex's reaction would have to remain a mystery, because you didn't look away from Kyoutani, in an effort to make this look truly genuine.

When you figured he was gone, completely out of earshot, you glanced away to watch his little group disappear around the corner.

"What are you doing."

You thought you'd be prepared for whatever -inevitably- negative reaction Kyoutani threw at you. But his interrogative tone alone was enough for you to jerk your hand back into the safety of your own lap.

Then the unhinged stare, a step under something you might find on a wild hyena, sent enough adrenaline through you to scoot away.

"I'm--," You swallowed your voice crack down, heat all over the back of your neck, "It's not personal. Promise."

You weren't faultless. It was a form of bullying.

After going to enough of those games, you judged him, too. Dating Tooru had been the pinnacle of social immunity as far as your class structure went.

In fact, dating that boy made you into a worse person. But his attention? It was a drug. And you felt like an addict, coming down, burning bridges to get back to that feeling again.

This bridge though- you didn't care much about it. Kyoutani was one of those guys you didn't spare your breath on; he was weird, and alone, and everybody shared a mutual understanding to not test him. Pointing it out or making fun of him was useless. A little dangerous, too.

His fury was all over his face. You lit the fuse, and now he was tick, tick, ticking if you didn't tread lightly.

"Then get the fuck off of me."

Even though Tooru ranted plenty of times about his anger issues, his explosive habits, and frustrating team-destroying temperament, you were still not expecting him to be so mean. Lonely people were usually nice to pretty girls, at least.

You tried to explain the whole break-up in as few words as you could, but realized part of the way through that he was the first person you told, so you naturally started rambling about how sad you were. Most of your friends sided with Oikawa, so you dumped it all on this stranger in a slew of emotional rationale and stutter-y, half-correct memory. It was a natural loss of inhibition, being this profoundly sad.

He rolled his deep-set eyes with a groan that almost made you scoff. He stood up to leave you by yourself, not even wanting to share the bench at a distance. You had nobody else to sit with. Nobody to talk to.

"Sounds like the dumbest shit I've ever heard."

You clutched your uniform, spiraling, emptier than ever. It was staggering how much worse you could possibly feel, even after the shock wore off.

A desperate, thankfully quiet, tone left your mouth: "Please."

Kyoutani stood over you, bag in his clenched fist, searching. You were broken, and needy; a far cry from your bitchy, entitled snickering he caught countless times from across the gym, or class. He liked this new groveling-look on you. It fit surprisingly well. It made him feel big.

"Please help me."

He shoved a hand in his pocket, head cocked at your begging.

Prissy-Little-Miss-Oikawa, now widowed, all alone? The thought was enough to make a degenerate like him hesitate.

A grumbly, 'disinterested' question, "'nd what's in it for me?"

Just entertaining the idea had you looking up at him with those big, glossy eyes. Tears looked so good with your natural complexion.

"Anything- I'll literally do anything--," You wiped the stubborn tears from your eyes before they could fall and stood with a sniffle, "Whatever, as long as it makes him jealous."

-

The bench became your 'spot' during breaks. Being in Kyoutani's class was helpful, because you were never really separated. Tooru came around for the first few days, on his usual stroll with his giant group of friends, but started to become unreliable once he spotted who you were there for.

Today you caught the last of his double-take. It was perfect. The longing in his eyes, the slack in his jaw as he finally saw your body cuddling up to his least-favorite person in the world. You were lost in the implication for a good, quiet minute.

"Ow-!" You wrenched your hand back from a hydraulic-press-like squeeze.

It throbbed, as you rubbed it.

"He's gone." He spat.

That was true, Tooru was well and far away by now. You cleared your throat and got off of him, adjusting your uniform, as you put enough 'normal' distance between you again.

"There's no need to be so rough-," You squeezed and splayed your aching fingers a few times with a huff.

Kyoutani relaxed on the back of the bench, chin tilted up, but staring at the curve in your spine, how you sat on the edge.

He mumbled and watched you fix your hair, "What? You not into that?"

"No," You spat, arms crossed, defensive at his weird tone.

If anything, you liked when he was more reserved. Quiet. He couldn't freak you out if he didn't speak.

He caught onto your little maneuver and decided to remind you, for the third time today, that you made a pretty embarrassing deal with him. You were no longer a Queen. Just a pawn, like him.

Now, under the current conversation, you pieced together his suggestion. "You said anything, didn't ya?"

"Oh my gosh!" You were warm, caught off-guard by his dirty intentions all out in the open. You twisted to look at him, but he was just checking you out. It looked like he was proud of making you blush, too. You went to scold him, but turned to face forward and bit it back with a sigh.

"What's wrong, Princess?" He teased, "Old Tooru wasn't givin' it to ya right?"

Your hand clasped over your mouth, the other gripped the hem of your skirt. He loved when you got all quiet, like that- now he was voluntarily putting his heavy arm around your shoulders, his thumb rubbing against the outline of your bra strap.

His face was close to your own. You struggled to meet his eyes, but managed.

"You're lonely, aren't you? That's why you're like that?"

His breath stalled. Surprise took over, his expression lighter, as he looked around your face. He was kind of cute, if he could stay like that.

It, of course, fell, and he was all grumpy, dissatisfied, again.

His arms fell off of you, crossed lazily over his chest, and he leaned back onto the bench, muttering to himself like the crazy, angry, loner he was, "Fuckin'... whatever... stupid... fuckin'- prude..."

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[essycogany]

Sonic And Amy Are A Unique Couple

This is a quick Sonamy rant /ramble session. With a few added clarifications too. Enjoy!

This couple is more unique than you’d think. It’s cool if anyone disagrees. I'm all for a polite debate and respect your opinion. But if you're willing to hear me out, I'll be willing to explain myself as clearly as possible. Great? Awesome! Let’s get started!

Amy doesn't want to change Sonic. I will scream this until I'm not able to speak any more that Amy loves Sonic for who he is. She always has but it wasn't until IDW that she expressed it out loud. Still one of my favorite moments between them.

Does that make their relationship unique? Not really. What makes their relationship unique is what Amy loves about Sonic is kind of the reason they're not a couple yet. Sonic is an ongoing force that can’t be stopped or changed. Of course, he’ll allow someone to join him on a race, but he still keeps going. Not to say Sonic won’t stop to smell the roses (pun not intended) but he’ll do it on his own time. Amy always likes to take advantage of those moments and best of all, Sonic doesn’t mind. Even during their old chases, he’d slow down for her. Says a lot about the connection they have but there’s more

Their chemistry is…something for lack of a better term. Their back and forth is so interesting to me. Sonic does like Amy back. Notable examples here but to put it shortly, Sonic doesn’t know what he’s doing when it comes to romance. Sometimes he’s not into it and other times he’s chill. Sometimes Amy is ecstatic and other times she's bashful. I'm looking at you Sonic X.

Every time Amy’s occupied, is when Sonic wants her the most. Amy on the other hand wants Sonic to enjoy his freedom. Neither of them stops to think about how maybe they can have it both ways.

I'll also mention romance isn’t about “being tied down.” That paints romance as if it’s some kind of chain being rapt around your neck or being forced to be with the person. That is not romance. It’s keeping someone hostage. Something Amy would not do. Every time she’d joke around about marrying him Sonic didn’t take it seriously. Heroes included.

Sonic’s line in Heros: “Amy, knock it off. There's no time to play!” Dude knows Amy was messing with him. She was written to be girly, childish, adventurous, and cartoony. No, it wasn’t always executed well. Hello, Sonic Freeriders Amy! But I think this scene summons it up the best.

Important thing to mention as well is Sonic is an outspoken and honest character who rarely lies. It’s either you get the truth or you get nothing. He’s not the type to spare people’s feelings either, so if he had a problem with Amy in the past, he’d tell her directly. I do think she'd also stop if he genuinely told her to. The last thing Amy would want is to tarnish their friendship because of her actions. This loyal girl is so sweet.

Not to mention this is a popular trope in Japan too. The trope was what their relationship was based on.

Back to my original point Sonic and Amy aren’t a traditional couple. That’s a good thing. If they became canon their relationship wouldn’t change if they got together, but also they don’t need labels either. Romance isn’t or shouldn’t be a burden on you. That’s not how love works and that’s not what Sonic believes Amy to be. If that’s the case he wouldn’t be friends with her. Whether you ship Sonic with Amy, someone else, or no one, there should be no doubt Sonic values her friendship.

I’ll also add that Amy is just as up for an adventure as Sonic is. It’s why she loves him so much. They’re a power couple and love going out to travel, so there’s no staying in one place for these two.

In Sonic Adventure 2 you can tell Amy’s intuition when it comes to Sonic. Close to the end, she saw him looking a bit down and noticed his mood shifting a bit. “What’s the matter, Sonic?” “Oh, it’s nothing.” She knows him so well. I don't know what connection they run on but it’s inspiring.

These two don’t have a typical girl/boy relationship. I know some people say, “Well, why can't Sonic and Amy stay friends? Not every male and female relationship needs to be romantic.” You're 100% correct. Here are some examples.

The difference between other relationships is that Amy was created to be a Minnie to Sonic’s Mickey. Which is why these two are treated differently compared to others. Including in merch. There are more examples but I digress. The point is this specific pair is always going to have nuance even if they’re only friends. It doesn’t stop until Amy doesn’t love Sonic and even if it shouldn’t define her, it should still be a part of her. She might work without romance, but we already have other amazing female characters for that.

No one’s obligated to ship them because of this of course. Again, your opinion is still valid, and I will always stick to that point.

Last but not least is their friendship (or situationship) as a whole.

The funny thing is their friendship is what makes their romance the most compelling. The appeal to Sonic and Amy’s dynamic is how much platonic energy they have. Romance doesn’t always mean you need to be lovey-dovey. With Sonamy it’s their powerful friendship that makes the (somewhat not platonic) interactions memorable. You don’t have to choose romantic or platonic. It can be both. I wouldn't be a Sonamy fan if I didn't think their relationship was plain. I'm here because of how different they are.

And I love them to bits. Look at this panel and tell me it isn't running with situationship fuel.

Another fun detail is in recent years despite knowing Amy still loves him, Sonic hugs her back. Even the moments in Sonic X he carries her are moments he offers to. Even when it wasn't necessary.

Can’t forget about the recent asking Amy out to a dinner panel in IDW. He's never done that before. There's a familiarity between the two of them however you look at it. I LOVE them for it.

His moments of genuinely being excited to see her are not due to some development but because Sonic’s passion for Amy has noticeably increased. Why am I bringing these up? It’s because one thing that hasn’t been talked about when it comes to romance is actions. Sure, Sonic doesn't fully confess his feelings to her outwardly. But why do you have to be obvious and in people’s face when it comes to loving someone? In Japan, love is mostly shown through what you do more than what you say. That stuff can happen there but it doesn't always have to. The “Sharing an Umbrella, Amy,” line in Frontiers carries a lot more weight when you think about the implications.

Please read this post by @egalitarian-tomboy if you're interested in the implications of Sonamy in Frontiers.

The up-to-interpretation view of whatever they have together is the main reason I and so many people ship them. It’s not the fact that they are close, but the progression of their closeness. To make a long story short, the appeal of Sonamy is the fact that they don’t have to be traditionally romantic to be an interesting couple. Amy represents expressive love and Sonic represents emotional love.

Stay creative! 💜

[vershautece]

lu makes sweet love to u after a long stressful day <3

💘turns into breeding hehe + there’s aftercare at the end!!

you’re sat in bed, watching netflix to distract yourself from how horrible your day was. you’d been going through copious amounts of stress recently; your job was driving you insane and every day you couldn’t wait to lay in bed and try to wind down. luigi had been out for most of the day, and now at around 7pm you heard him unlock the door and enter the house. you immediately breathe a sigh of relief, all day you’d been looking forward to cuddling with your man, resting on his chest while you rant to him about your day. a few moments later he’s making his way upstairs and into your room; the second you see him walk through your door your face lights up a little, and so does his.

‘hey beautiful - you okay?’ he flashes his gorgeous smile at you - he’s wearing his fav adidas hoodie and denim jeans, so simple but it’s one of your favorite looks on him because he looks so warm and comfy. ‘didn’t have the best day, lu, i feel like i’m just stressed 24/7’ you sigh, offering him a weak smile. he gives you a slight pout, before coming over to the bed. ‘yeah? you glad i’m home now? you can tell me all about it, baby’ he says as he gets into bed with you, pulling you into his chest, an arm around your shoulder. you hum in content against his chest, looking up into his eyes as you put both hands on his face and caress his cheeks. ‘thank you, my love’ you whisper, pressing a few soft kisses to his collarbone. ‘i just wanna lay with you, don’t wanna talk right now’

‘that’s okay, amore - tell me about it whenever you want’ he whispers into your hair. ‘what are you watching?’

‘i don’t even know, i’m not paying attention - i missed you’ you pause the TV and move your leg over his torso, wrapping your arms around his neck as you begin pressing soft kisses from his neck to his chest. he laughs softly: ‘yeah? i can tell. you need me, baby?’ ‘mhm’ you respond as you press another open mouthed kiss on his skin, and he moans lowly at the feeling. ‘what do you want, beautiful? i missed you too’

‘make love to me - please’ you speak softly into his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. you’re starting to rock yourself on his crotch, and you can feel your panties getting wet from your movements and how much you need him. he smiles, looking down at you with love and amusement at how needy you are for him. ‘you don’t have to ask me twice, beautiful. c’mere - i love you’ he brings your face up to his by your chin, kissing you softly, but you’re growing increasingly desperate for him so you waste no time in slipping your tongue into his mouth. your hands instinctively move upwards from his neck to pull on his curls, and his groan into your mouth makes you even wetter. his hands are moving down to your hips, caressing them, then moving lower to your ass as you continue to make out. you pull away, breathless: ‘lu, i need you so bad, i’ve been thinking about you all day’ you desperately kiss and bite his neck, his hands gripping your ass through your shorts. he chuckles, wrapping his strong arms around your waist as he shifts so you’re both face to face, your leg over his thigh. ‘slow down, dolcezza, patience. gonna make love to you, okay? i’ll take away all that stress’ he gazes at you, before lowering his face into your neck and starting to leave hickeys. your hands are tight in his curls, gasping softly, his hands smoothing over your waist and hips as he leaves dark marks on your skin. ‘mmm, lu - need you on top of me’ you whine, one hand in his hair now and the other moving up and down his neck and back desperately, as a show for how needy you are. ‘patience, yeah?’ he murmurs against your neck, before pulling away and gazing at you with dilated pupils. ‘we’re gonna take it slow, baby, mhm? i need to calm your nervous system’ he kisses your nose and each cheek, arms caressing your waist softly, and you melt into his touch.

‘luigi, when you’re inside me i think my nervous system is gonna be anything but calm’ you giggle slightly deliriously as you start to dry hump. he flashes his pretty smile at you, kneading your ass in his big hands. ‘you know what i mean. that’s why i’m going slow, bellissima. i’m not pounding you into the mattress just yet’ he laughs, kissing your cheek. you laugh with him, smiling so wide as he presses more soft kisses all over your face.

‘mm, i love you, gorgeous’ you say to him as you both gaze into each other’s eyes. his dimples show slightly as he gives you a soft smile. ‘you know how much i love you, bella ragazza.’ you reach a hand up to caress his face, gripping his curls tighter with your other hand as you kiss passionately. and it might be the most passionate kiss you’ve shared, tongues meeting the second your lips touch, luigi biting on your bottom lip to make you moan into his mouth. this kiss resumes your make out, while he slowly removes your shorts for you. he breaks the kiss for a moment to admire your pretty underwear, baby pink adorned with a bow. he smirks just slightly at the wet patch, running his index and middle finger over the fabric without warning. your breath hitches and you press on his chest, shifting even closer to his body, your leg now completely slung over him to get some friction. ‘pretty’ he mutters, to himself more than anything, before giving your clit a light smack through the fabric that makes you dizzy. you giggle, moaning in content, before luigi captures your lips with his again. as your tongues deepen the kiss, he slips his two fingers into your panties and brushes them through your folds to drag the wetness up to your clit. then he’s rubbing slow circles on the bundle of nerves, as you grip his shoulder and let him swallow your needy whines while you make out. he stimulates your clit for a couple minutes; your man knows how important foreplay is for a woman, and his intention to go extra slow tonight makes it even more so. you unzip his hoodie and drag it off him, whining as he takes his fingers out of your panties while you undress his upper half, and breaking the kiss just for a moment to pull his shirt over his head too. his cock is straining in his boxers beneath his jeans, and as he slips his fingers back into your panties to continue rubbing your clit you realise how uncomfortable he must be, so without looking and still captured in his kisses, you unbuckle his belt for him and pull down his jeans. his hard cock is straining against the material of his boxers, a wet spot of precum obvious on the grey fabric. you pull away and give him a teasing smile like he’d given you, dragging your hand down to palm him through the fabric and smooth over the wet patch. he throws his head back in pleasure, biting his lip, and slips his middle finger into your entrance. he sets a steady pace, curling his finger upwards to hit your g spot and you’re moaning into his mouth again, writhing on the sheets as you absentmindedly palm his clothed cock. ‘take me out, beautiful’ he whispers, and you don’t hesitate to pull his leaking cock out of his boxers and grip it in your small hand. you pull the fabric down his legs, throwing it to the side somewhere, and slowly start grinding yourself onto his member, your leg over his crotch, as he continues pleasuring you. his lips are on your neck now, biting and sucking, and he pulls your panties down your legs ever so slowly, leaning over slightly to shove them under his pillow. he slips a second finger into your entrance, and the pace of the upward motion in your walls is heavenly. ‘mm, lu, want you inside me’ you moan, and nearly squeal when he sucks on that sweet spot in the crook of your neck and slows the pace of his fingers to create the perfect stimulation where he misses a beat between thrusts, hitting that spot just right. you’re palming his cock for him, rubbing up and down the shaft, but it’s more absentminded and lazy than you’d like, because you can never concentrate when his fingers are working so deep inside you.

‘you want my cock, yeah? you ready?’ he murmurs into your neck, pressing kisses in between your boobs. ‘mhm, need you so bad, lu’ you moan, and he takes his fingers out of you, drawing out another needy whine from your throat. ‘let’s take this off, hm?’ he whispers, pulling your tank top over your head to leave you naked beside him. his eyes rake over your body, pupils dilated as he takes in how beautiful you look. your hair is so messy now, but it falls on your shoulders perfectly, your lips are puffy, your nipples aroused. he bites his lip as he looks at you, caressing your torso with one hand and reaching his other to your face to rub the pad of his thumb on your cheek. ‘you’re so beautiful. you know that?’ ‘mhm, you tell me every day, lu’

he smiles so softly at you, and the way his sweet eyes shimmer and his dimples widen melts your heart as it does every single time he looks at you that way. ‘you ready for me?’ he raises his brows, stroking his cock as he shifts to hover over you. ‘yeah, want you to make love to me, lu.’ he bites his lip, looking down as he starts to move his cock through your soaking folds. you both moan at the feeling, and you grip his forearm to brace yourself for when he pushes in. ‘just the tip at first, okay, my love?’ he whispers as he slides himself in so slowly, pausing at the tip. you moan loudly as he stretches you out, and he kisses your forehead. ‘good girl, i know it’s a tough stretch, i know, c’mon, i got you baby girl’ he coos at you, caressing your cheek with his thumb, then pressing soft kisses all over your face as he pushes in further. your moans become even louder, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, your arms coming up around his neck to grip his curls. ‘luigi - fuck, you’re so big, deeper please’

he smirks a little: ‘i’m so big but you want me to go deeper? you like when my cock hits your cervix, huh? gonna give it to you so deep, baby.’ and then he bottoms out, and you both moan as loud as each other, your back arching at the familiar feeling. ‘so tight, bambina’ he groans, and leans down so he’s directly on top of you, your foreheads almost touching. the eye contact makes your heart flutter, even more so when he moves his left hand to your cheek and his right hand to the back of your head between you and the pillow, cradling you as he starts his thrusts so slowly. ‘yes, baby’ you moan, clutching at his curls as you gaze at each other, but you’re struggling to keep your eyes open already. ‘gonna keep this pace, okay? wanna make love to you so slow, my beautiful girl. ti amo, tesoro’ he kisses your forehead again, rocking his hips against yours in the most passionate embrace of your bodies. his cock is hitting your insides perfectly, the slow pace isn’t irritating or frustrating, it’s the opposite: you feel impossibly close to him and he’s looking after you with so much precision, every thrust hitting your cervix perfectly. ‘you feelin good?’ he whispers, forehead pressing against yours, hand still cradling the back of your head. ‘yeahh, you’re perfect baby, i love you so much, lu’ you sigh in pleasure, closing your legs somehow even tighter around his waist. he moves his face so it’s buried in your neck, now chest to chest with you, your bodies impossibly close, and he speeds up the pace. ‘cazzo, bella ragazza’ he groans into your neck. you feel like an angel in white sheets as he quickens his thrusts, the dim lighting in the room from the candles you lit earlier adding to the atmosphere and increasing the intimacy.

your hands keep moving from a tight grip on his curls to scratching his upper back and grabbing the back of his neck to pull him as close as possible. you’re never sure what to do with your hands because you want to somehow feel all of him at once, which is of course irritatingly impossible. he’s pressing soft kisses to the side of your face, your shoulder, neck and collarbone, never letting go of your head in his hands. ‘yeah, baby? moaning so pretty for me, you feel perfect on my cock, y’know i love you more than anything’ he pulls back to look at into your eyes, pace never faltering. you’re gazing up at him with his favorite doe eyed look, mouth agape with constant whines and moans. ‘beautiful girl’ he whispers, kissing you passionately, before leaning his head back down to your shoulder. ‘oh, luigi, i’m so in love with you, you feel so fucking good, so deep, mmm’

‘yeah, bambina? i know, i know, you take me so well, la mia ragazza’ he moans into your ear. ‘you still feel stressed?’ he asks, pressing kisses to the side of your face and in your hair. ‘no, not anymore - i can’t think about anything else but your - fuck - your cock, god baby you’re hitting my cervix’ you respond through gasps and moans. ‘oh i know i am, i knew that’s what you needed - c’mere, dolcezza’ he leans back, kissing you softly before lying on his side and turning you so you’re face to face with him, his cock stilling inside you for a moment. ‘get as close to me as you can, i wanna feel every inch of you, my beautiful girl.’ ‘mhm’ you make a soft noise in response and hook your leg over his torso, wrapping your arms tight around his neck and shuffling as close to him as possible. he waits until you’re comfortable in this position before moving again. ‘you okay?’ he kisses your forehead, and you nod eagerly, so he resumes his thrusts, now quick and deep. your lips crash onto his, both of you moaning into each other’s mouth as he fucks you so passionately, gripping and kneading your ass. ‘my baby girl, you’re so beautiful f’me, always’

‘lu, you’re so fucking deep i can’t - oh baby’ you’re a moaning mess on his cock, and he smacks your ass, leaving one hand gripping it while his other hand caresses up and down your torso and your thigh that’s hooked over his own. ‘that’s it, bellissima, take me so deep, yes my good girl’ he never takes his eyes off of you, and whenever your hair falls over your eyes a little he gently brushes it out of your face. his hand is on your cheek again, caressing your skin with his thumb so gently, an insane contrast to his passionate thrusts and rough grip on your ass with his other hand. your mouth is open the whole time because of your gasps and moans, and he doesn’t miss the opportunity to slip his thumb between your lips. you suck on it eagerly, looking at him with those same doe eyes again, and he groans at the sight and the feeling of your warm mouth on his thumb. ‘that’s my good girl’

you take his thumb out of your mouth to speak: ‘luigi, god, i love when you fuck me just like this, your cock always makes me feel better’ you moan breathlessly, kissing him rough. ‘yeah, does it, my baby? takin’ it so well, you always do’ he lands another light smack to your ass. ‘you like when i make love to you like this? so close our chests touch, so i can feel your pretty tits bouncing against me, yeah beautiful? nothing’s better than this.’ ‘yeah fuck lu, this is all i need, oh baby’

you grip his hair even tighter when he starts to slow his thrusts, switching to a steady, teasing pace where his cock hits your cervix, stills for a moment, and repeat. your hips rock to meet this new pace, back arching in pleasure. ‘oh that’s it, mmm god’ you nearly squeal, especially when you look into his dilated pupils as he bites his lip and starts kneading one of your boobs, thumb tweaking your sensitive nipple. ‘luigi, i want a baby’ you suddenly moan out, and you’re so serious but to hear the words come out of your own mouth shocks you. of course it shocks luigi too, and he pauses for a moment. ‘huh?’ he furrows his brows, a slight smirk playing on his lips. ‘yeah cum inside me, i want you to get me pregnant - mm please’ you realize this is genuinely what you want, and maybe you’re just dumb on his cock, but you’re ovulating and you need him to fill you up to your cervix. ‘that what you want, yeah?’ his pace is incredibly slow and teasing now. ‘bellissima, you want my baby? want all my cum, huh?’ he’s watching you intently, making sure this is genuinely what you want. ‘mhm, i love you more than anything lu, i’m ready to have a baby with you.’

you swear he’s never looked at you so in love before, his eyes shimmering in the dim light, dimples slightly visible on his cheeks as he starts to smile. he looks so beautiful, and you know you want to spend the rest of your life with him - as he gazes at you he’s thinking the exact same of you, and that eye contact with his gentle thrusts is your favorite thing in the world. you could spend forever with him like this, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. ‘i’ll give you a baby, dolcezza, make you the prettiest mama, c’mere’ he smiles wide, pulling out of you to your frustration, and moving to get on his knees. ‘wanna fuck you from behind so i can cum in you from this angle, okay? just lay down on your stomach, my love’ he kisses your shoulder and waits for you to get comfortable, your cheek resting on the pillow, then he slips his cock into you again slowly, leaning forward to press his entire body weight on your back. ‘this okay, baby?’ he asks softly, kissing your ear as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, hands gripping your hips. ‘mhm, please move lu, i need you so deep, need to cum’ your speech is kind of muffled against the pillow in this position, and he gently brushes your hair to one side to see the visible side of your face, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek. ‘non preoccuparti, amore - i’ll get you to cum’ he whispers in your ear, right before starting his slow thrusts again. his lips attack your neck, leaving even more hickeys and you know you’re going to have to spend hours on makeup tomorrow morning. ‘you want it faster, baby? tell me’

‘mmm, yes fuck me faster luigi, oh baby’ you moan, arms splayed out across the mattress. the second those words leave your lips he’s pounding into you, his right hand leaving your waist to reach for your hand, gripping it tightly. he’s so close you can feel his warm breath on your ear, and it’s the little things like that and his thumb rubbing gentle circles over your knuckles that’s getting you so much closer to the edge. he’s saying the filthiest words in your ear now, desperate to get you both to your release. ‘that’s it my gorgeous girl, la mia bella ragazza, i’m gonna make you a beautiful mama, hm, gonna fuck my cum so deep into your pussy.’ you can’t find the words to respond, only moans and profanities spilling from your lips. ‘you’re gonna be so beautiful when you’re pregnant, can’t wait to see your tits swell - fuck - see you get curvy in all the right places, i’ll make love to you every day, baby, whenever you want’

and when he’s not whispering in your ear he’s kissing down your neck, until you can’t take it anymore and grip his hand so tight you wish you had the energy to apologize. ‘lu, i’m gonna cum, i can’t - fuck, ‘s too much’ ‘yeah? you cumming for me? do it now on my cock, pretty baby, i���m close too.’ and you can tell, from the way he’s grunting louder into your ear, but the pace of his thrusts doesn’t falter once, if anything he’s pounding into you even faster. ‘yeah, lu, i’m so close’ you whine so loud, craning your neck to look at him. the fucked out look on your face drives him crazy, and without warning he lets go of your hand and flips you over into missionary, never stopping his thrusts. you make a noise close to a scream, and then you’re a whining mess as he moves forward to lay on top of you, your boobs at his chest. your legs lock tight around his waist, right hand gripping his again, and his left hand holds the back of your head. ‘you gonna cum now, baby?’ he asks you, eyes so dark, pupils dilated as he refuses to glance away from your own. ‘mmm, yes luigi i’m gonna cum’ you moan into his ear, and that sound is what finally does it for him, both of you getting your release at the same time. he groans loudly, slowing his thrusts as he makes sure your body takes every last drop of his cum. ‘take all my cum pretty girl, can’t wait for you to have my baby’ ‘oh lu, you’re perfect, i love you’ you gasp, coming down from your high, and he collapses onto your chest, resting on your boobs.

you both sit in silence for a minute to catch your breath, and when he starts peppering kisses in between your breasts you start to giggle. you ruffle his hair, and he looks up at you, completely in love. ‘i don’t know what to do when you look at me like that’ you blush, smiling down at him. he smiles back, kissing you softly. ‘i want you to know how beautiful you are. i’m gonna make you my wife one day, i promise.’ you blush even more, and whisper back, while playing with his curls. ‘luigi, you’re the love of my life. i can’t believe i might be pregnant.’

he smiles wide, laying his head in the crook of your neck, and you can feel his dimples against your skin. ‘i was very surprised to hear you ask me for a baby, y’know’ he laughs. ‘like we make jokes and say things in the heat of the moment, whatever, but you were so serious and i had to make sure that’s what you really wanted because you know i’ll cum inside with no hesitation.’ you giggle into his hair: ‘mhm, you don’t take much persuading. but how can you make love to me like that and get surprised when i ask you to put a baby in me?’ he laughs against your neck, and then you’re both silent for a few moments while you play with his curls. ‘you’re gonna be such a good father, luigi. i’m so lucky,’ you whisper, and he presses a kiss to your neck. his response is muffled against your skin; ‘you were made to be a mom, amore mio. i can’t wait to make you my wife.’ ‘hmm, why don’t you propose then?’ you tease, knowing he’d never do it out of nowhere like that - when luigi does anything for you it has to be thoroughly and meticulously planned out. ‘you have to be joking, you know i have to make it perfect, and i don’t even have a ring.’ his response is as you expected, and you laugh at him. ‘baby, stop taking everything so seriously, i was joking.’

he lifts his head from your neck and looks up at you, raising his brows. ‘you just asked me to get you pregnant, was i not supposed to take that seriously either?’ you roll your eyes playfully, and kiss his nose; ‘shut up, lu.’ he smirks at you, then leans back, pulling out and smirking wider at the cum that seeps out of you onto the sheets. you look down and laugh, rolling your eyes at his teasing smile. ‘c’mere, baby’ he scoops you up into his arms bridal style, carrying you into your en suite, and he sets you down on the countertop while he cleans you up. he presses a couple of kisses to your inner thighs, and your breath hitches at the feeling.

he goes to turn on the shower, and you get the perfect view of his back profile in front of you. you giggle to yourself at how lucky you are, and he hears, turning back to you. ‘what’s so funny?’ he smiles, coming to stand in between your legs at the counter, hands caressing your hips and thighs. ‘you’re so sexy’ you say, batting your lashes at him. he raises his brows, a teasing smile playing on his face: ‘you wanna go again or something? need more of this phd cause 3 positions wasn’t enough?’ ‘no, baby, i’m too tired, i just wanted to tell you how good you look’ you smile back innocently, wrapping your arms around his neck. ‘don’t say anything like that again, you’ll make me hard’ he says with a serious tone, but you can hear him trying not to laugh as he pulls you up off the counter by the back of your thighs into his arms. you squish his cheeks and kiss his nose, earning a playful eye roll from him, and you giggle as he carries you into the shower. when he sets you down on the floor he washes your hair and your body with all your favorite products - he’s experienced enough by now to be able to differentiate between them all, and he’s giving you a mini pamper session while you giggle in his arms and try to concentrate on splaying shower gel on the parts of his body you can reach. when you’re both done, luigi watches in just his boxers as you do your skincare wearing your silk robe, his arms wrapped tight around your waist because he’s desperate for you to finish using all those ‘pointless’ products and get into bed. the second you’re done, he undresses you out of your robe and scoops you up into his arms again like the gentleman he is. he sets you down in bed, covering you with the sheets, before climbing in with you, pulling you close to his chest. his legs tangle with yours, and he’s about to send you to sleep with his forehead kisses when he notices the candles you lit hours ago are still flickering. ‘oh, the candles, hold on’ he goes to move, but you push onto his chest to keep him still. ‘baby leave it, just let them blow out on their own,’ you mutter in annoyance, not wanting to stir from your position on his chest. ‘no, you shouldn’t sleep with candles burning, i’ll be back in literally 10 seconds.’ you roll your eyes when he gets out of bed, but then you’re giggling as you watch him blow out the candles, thinking about how in love you are with this sweet nerd. you wonder if your baby will be the same.

[kumkaniudaku]

Fall Break

Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 4.9k

MASTERLIST

Chicago wasn't half bad. Asia had to concede that fact as Kelvin filmed the journey into the city from the airport on his cellphone. 

Despite the disorienting mind-fuck that was O'Hare, the mishmash of old comforts and new charm glistening under a fresh downpour drew her in more than she cared to admit. She saw the appeal. It didn't make losing her man to the Midwest feel any better than the days before, though. They could visit anytime. She didn't want him to stay. 

She put on a brave face and an appeasing smile during dinner at a so-so downtown Chinese and Thai spot, listening to Kelvin rant and rave about his new team while pieces of her heart withered and died inside.

Asia held on to him a little tighter as they walked through the streets like tourists in search of cheap drinks to celebrate nothing in particular. One shot turned into three and a cocktail. Then, two more shots a piece and a secret third shot Asia snuck with Kelvin dipped off to relieve himself in the restroom. Just something to take the edge off. She promised herself she wouldn't get too drunk and start crying. But, as reality set in and Chicago became less of a fun pre-Valentine's vacation and more of a concrete reality, she couldn't help the tears welling up in her eyes once they'd called it a night and snuggled into bed together. 

Unable to cry, scream, or otherwise, Asia took the next best outlet: fucking. She knew it was wrong to hide her pain behind the ruse of wanting intimacy from a man more than willing to give it to her. She wanted to change her mind and almost had an out when she called Kelvin's name and startled him awake. He took Asia's apology in stride and pressed for answers until he was buried deep in her heat from behind, spooning like both their lives depended on it. 

Good, but not enough. Not until Asia was numb and so drunk on physical intimacy that she couldn't think straight. Perched on his face, she bucked her hips erratically to get the last drops of frustration out of her body by way of Kelvin's tongue. 

He held on tight with long fingers gripping soft flesh on both ass cheeks for dear life while he watched Asia fondle her own nipples, searching for her third orgasm. A woman possessed. He loved it. He'd drink her in until the sun came up just to see the face she made when the pressure in her belly was too much to contain.

Groaning, Asia slumped forward to look down at Kelvin, lapping at her with a face covered in his reward. "I love it when you eat me like that, baby," she demanded, her voice raspy and thick with sleep. "Look at you. So fuckin' nasty for me. You gone make me cum?" 

"Mhmm." More a moan than a response. And, even as he grew more excited from the mere sniff of the gold mine between her legs, Kelvin wasn't sure if he could go too much longer without a break. 

Reaching between her legs, he slid two fingers into her pussy, never slacking on his tongue's rhythm. A desperate mewl from deep within Asia's throat cut through the pitch-black room. Her thoughts became static as she felt the familiar tightening of release wind in her abdomen. 

"Oh…fuck," Asia squealed when euphoria quivered her inner thighs. "Don't stop, baby! Don't stop!" 

A plea for the moment and the future wrapped in one. Tears begging to see the world all say fell freely from Asia's eyes in pain and pleasure. Kelvin watched her in elation, feeling pride from a job well done swell in his chest. 

She came hard, the force from a hard-earned eruption still directing her hips to turn Kelvin's face into a saddle until all thoughts of tomorrow floated into the void to bother Asia another day. Kelvin was there to greet her when strength returned to her body and sent her rolling off his face onto the mattress. Her chest heaved to bring in as much oxygen as possible while he peppered affection across her shoulder and onto her jaw.

"I've never seen you like this before," Kelvin mumbled between kisses to the corner of Asia's mouth. "Maybe we should do that more often?"

She smiled, turning on her side to face him. "I'm down for right now if you wanna go again." 

Again? Kelvin tried to maintain his smile, hoping she'd crack the impenetrable neutrality preventing him from getting a read on her true emotions. Was she joking? She had to be joking. But jokes came with laughs and a punchline. So far, neither were in the room. 

"Oh, you're serious," Kelvin noted, a mix of confusion and amazement in his voice. He shifted to flip the switch on Asia's headboard lamp for a better look at her face in the wee hours of the morning. "I mean, if you give me a minute, I can maybe get things going again. You know I –" 

"Kel, it's fine. Don't stress yourself if you need to rest. I'll live!" 

Goading was manipulation, no matter how well she faked a cheery inflection to hide her true intentions. And though she wasn't proud of using nefarious methods to get what she wanted, Asia wouldn't allow her entire weekend to be taken by devastating blow after devastating blow to her emotions without getting something in return. 

Kelvin's attempt to kiss Asia's lips was thwarted as she rolled off the bed on the way to the bathroom, leaving him just enough cheek to grease the gears in his mind. "Woah, woah. I need five minutes and I'm back in. Can I have five minutes?" 

"Only five. You sure? I'm serious. We can wait until the morning." 

"Nah," Kelvin rushed out. Asia watched as he dipped his fingers beneath the plush duvet to take things into his own hands. "I got it. Five minutes." 

She'd give him eight. Two to find a distant memory to get the blood flowing, three to get his lone soldier to stand at attention, and three more for her to stop bullshitting and come clean. 

The dark, ugly cloud of hidden feelings was starting to drench Asia's mental in inescapable, blurring rain, preventing her from thinking straight as the deadline loomed closer. With Kelvin, she sported a sweet smile and acquiesced to every endless scroll through Crate & Barrel or CB2 run, hoping that picking vases and matching color schemes would help her overcome the truth. 

Long distance wasn't an option. Asia had tried to outrun and tiptoe across the fact like it was fresh lava on the ground, only to fall face first before in-flight snacks rolled down the aisle. Coming to terms with reality meant telling Kelvin. Telling Kelvin meant interrupting his third Bad Boys rewatch and the medium-difficulty sudoku puzzle keeping most of his attention. It meant possibly starting an argument with hundreds of strangers in earshot. It meant possibly ending her first relationship thousands of feet in the air with no way home until Monday morning. Worst of all, it meant disappointing Kelvin.

Waiting wouldn't change anything. The longer she kicked the can down the road, the more exhausted she'd wind up once the jig was up. Do it. Rip the band-aid. Asia tried to imagine Sabrina egging her on, pushing her to dive head first into radical honesty but came up short under dim lights showcasing incoming tears shining in her eyes. A harsh wipe with the back of her hand smeared them out of existence before she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Ripping band-aids off physical wounds always hurt, and the pain never went away as fast as people try to pretend. Emotional wounds couldn't be much different. 

"Hey, Kel. Can we talk?" Asia's voice ricocheted in the silence as she exited the bathroom. No response prompted her to call for her lover again. "Babe?"

Eight minutes was too long for tired limbs and eyes to settle atop soft sheets, especially for a man known to value the sanctity of napping. Asia watched Kelvin's chest rise and fall, his mouth hanging open with his hand still beneath the covers. A small smile tugged at her lips as she climbed into bed beside him. Kelvin wasn't a wound, and her revelation wasn't a band-aid. It was a life-altering change that required a delicate approach Asia hadn't quite pieced together. Not here. Not now. 

Two soft kisses on his cheek stirred Kelvin awake long enough for him to hug Asia's waist tighter and yawn. "I wasn't asleep. Just resting my eyes. You ready for me?" 

"It's okay, babe. Go to bed. See you in the morning," Asia answered. She snuggled closer to his body to savor what could be the last bits of his warmth she'd ever feel. Kelvin half-kissed her forehead, bringing back tears she thought she'd neutralized.

"Mhmm. Morning."

Deep breaths in and out helped Asia match her heartbeat to Kelvin's until sleep welcomed her into a temporary retreat from inner turmoil. She promised herself another round of next times. Next times that came and went without so much as a peep until they slowly took a backseat to the utter chaos of apartment hunting the following morning. 

Kelvin's carefully curated list of five perfect apartments had slowly dwindled to two and a shaky possible by noon. Too expensive, too small, too outdated, too stuffy, not enough natural light – the list of big and small flaws ran the gamut of available gripes. Asia resisted taking the opportunity to plant seeds of doubt in Kelvin's mind to play the role of dutiful girlfriend, smothering little frustration fires and offering support in the face of adversity. It was her idea to continue the search past lunch when all Kelvin wanted to do was stalk back to the hotel and bury his head beneath a pillow. 

She tugged him down a sidewalk drenched in fresh rain toward their fifth and final option. "Come onnnn. We're already here! This could be the one!" A fifth dud couldn't hurt that bad. Or maybe it'd hurt just enough to help him change course. 

All hope of helping Kelvin see the light atomized into a figment of Asia's twisted imagination when a few taps at an empty two-bedroom unit's digital keypad granted them access to the most beautiful piece of real estate either of them had ever seen. 

A wall of windows overlooked a bustling cityscape complete with enough commuters and tourists hustling past each other on the sidewalk to people-watch for hours. Expansive, pristine granite countertops complimented warm-toned wooden cabinets, housing more space than both their kitchens combined. Light wood floors added an upscale feel as Kelvin and Asia walked hand in hand through the hallways and gawked at each room. Two bathrooms, a walk-in closet in the guest bedroom, a huge faux-marble standing shower, a soaking tub, enough space for a king bed and nightstands – a slice of heaven well within a reasonable price. 

Asia wanted to hate it. She wanted to point out imperceptible flaws in the drywall and the specks of dust on the baseboards. One of the handles on the doorknob stuck a bit when she pressed down on it. Surely, that was enough to change his mind. Unfortunately, the hassle of finding a problem couldn't outshine the pocket of joy she found in watching Kelvin record videos to send to his sister for her approval. He saw a future in empty bedrooms and blank white walls waiting for his creative touch when she couldn't stomach walking into such a prison ever again.

"You were right." Kelvin did a full 360 in the primary bedroom, mentally planning where some of his prints could create a gallery wall. "This is the one. I think I found our spot, babe." 

Asia fought to maintain the smile she'd plastered on her face despite happiness being miles away. "I…I think you did, too. This is beautiful. I love it for you." She'd inadvertently found Kelvin a hidden gem. Another perfectly fated wrench was thrown into her plan. "You need me to get the leasing agent?" 

"Not right now. Come see the vision for a second." Kelvin's outstretched hand beckoned for Asia to join his side in the center of the room. She answered the call with slow steps before allowing him to pull her body into a soft hug. He pressed silly kisses onto her cheek, making a show of his affection until he'd had his feel. "I'm gonna put the bed right here," he informed, gesturing to a spot against the back wall. "Those two nightstands I've been lookin' at will fit perfectly. Eventually, I'm gonna throw the wallpaper you showed me up behind the bedframe, and that dope ass rug can warm up the room a little too, right?" 

Asia placated him with a nod. "Yeah, probably. Either here or in the office." 

"Oh, shit, the office. I can say that now. I have an office. We have an office," he laughed, giddy from the realization he could finally separate work, lounge, and sleep into three separate spaces. "Shit is crazy. You know, you basically have two places now. How does it feel to be rich?"

"It's feels good." It felt…something. Terrible? Painful like a thousand bikini waxes back to back? But, good? That wasn't it. "I'm proud of you, Kel. Really." 

Kelvin beamed from Asia's approval before puckering his lips for a kiss. "Thank you, baby. You want the left sink or the right sink?" 

"I actually want the entire guest bathroom. How much is that per month?" 

"I'm actually running a special," Kelvin answered as he pretended to tabulate numbers in his head. "If you come up here to do what we did last night every other month, I'll let it go for breakfast in bed." 

Asia considered his offer. "What if you made me dinner every other month and I just ate it with my top off?" 

"Sold." 

Laughter echoed throughout the empty space, drawing attention from the leasing agent trying not to eavesdrop in the living room. She tiptoed around the corner and stopped to smile at the young couple so wrapped up in each other that they didn't notice her presence. She cleared her throat, making them jump from the intrusion. 

She waved her hands in front of her body, eyes wide from embarrassment. "No, no! Don't stop on account of me. I was only checking in with you two. Like what you see?" 

"It's beautiful," Asia answered, still in awe of their luck. "Right, babe? This is the one?" 

"I think so. I'm only here for the weekend, so it'd be great to start the process today if we can." 

The possibility of a commission before the end of the day had the agent jittering in excitement. If they were quick, she'd have her weekend kicked off with a little sweetener on top. She rushed to whip out her iPad and dance her fingers across the screen. 

"Oh, of course," she answered, her eyes focused on the device in her hand. "Are we doing one or both of you on the lease?" 

"I'm sorry, I'm not –" 

Kelvin interjected on top of Asia. "Just me for now. Is there an opportunity to add a second person later, though? You know…in case something changes?" 

Asia waited for the punchline or Ashton Kutcher to roll out of the closet with a camera crew in tow to announce she'd been punked. Maybe then she could laugh all this off and understand why Kelvin had gone out of his way to plant the seed that there was a remote possibility she might abandon the life she'd created to follow him hundreds of miles to the Midwest. 

"We love a man who plans," the leasing agent complimented, impressed by Kelvin's desire to include his lady. He stood taller and pulled Asia closer despite her legs refusing to budge. "To answer your question, yes. But we can cross that bridge when we get there. In the meantime, take another look, get some more pictures, and then meet me in the lobby to talk about the paperwork. Sound good?" 

"Sounds good!" Kelvin couldn't contain the cheery inflection in his voice as he talked through additional instructions with the leasing agent at the front door or the slight hop in his step when he snuck up behind Asia to gaze out of the bedroom's windows over her shoulder. 

Pure, unadulterated happiness coursed through his veins with her body wrapped in his arms and tomorrow's possibilities flipping rapidly through his mind. Home. An abode meant for a singular inhabitant at present, but circumstances changed every day. There was a time when Asia was but a coworker and then a close friend. With sunshine peaking through thick grey clouds to bathe their tangled bodies in warm light, he had more than enough proof of how quickly dreams became reality. 

Asia sighed as Kelvin nudged her head to the side, searching for space to attach his lips to her neck. "This really is the perfect view." She tried to imagine how each of the unrecognizable buildings across the way would glitter and gleam at night. From the sky, they looked like Christmas lights in a town permanently frozen in the most wonderful time of the year. If she could push past the nagging discomfort in her heart and stick out the increasingly tough times, they could welcome her in with open arms every other month, slowly disarming her guard until she craved more. Another deep breath passed through her nose. "This is gonna work."

Kelvin examined Asia in silence for a moment, wondering if she meant for her statement to sound so unsure. She chewed her bottom lip while staring blankly at the landscape in front of them as if she were searching for the answer in the distance. She seemed to open her mouth to speak but closed it when no words came forth.

"Hey." His soft voice cut through Asia's contemplative silence, snapping her out of her daze. He pecked her cheek before speaking again. "We're gonna be fine. Trust me. Trust yourself." 

Turning in his arms, Asia let her gaze softly commit each of Kelvin's perfect imperfections to memory. He looked back at her with a disarming smile, hoping his reassurance would combat whatever uncertainty brewed inside her. 

Asia leaned closer, stopping just short to keep their lips tantalizingly close. Kelvin licked his pair, drawing her attention before she made her request. "Kiss me. Please." 

Next time, she'd talk things out – lay all her concerns on the table to get the necessary courage to keep moving along a path to true happiness. She'd voice her grievances, express her hesitation, and come out on the other side as a woman facing all her fears. 

After their kiss in golden hour light was washed away and their trip was history, she'd put on her big girl panties and do the thing. Next time.

A weekend in Chicago came and went with scary thoughts successfully turned into background fodder to focus on being somebody's Valentine for the first time. 

Standing in the dressing room's full-length mirror with an audience of one smacking on scavenged dill pickle chips, Asia examined the curvature of her behind in the fourth sultry red dress picked for an early afternoon try-on haul. The bow at the small of her back perfectly accentuated the toned muscles on display without fabric shielding them from the world. Her long legs benefited from a short hemline meant to turn heads as she strutted through the world on Kelvin's arm. 

Sabrina paused her chip chomping to compliment her friend. "You look good! I like it. And if I like it, your man is gonna love it." 

"Shit, he better. If I eat more than a piece of gum, I'll risk looking four months pregnant." Asia continued to stare at her reflection, trying to decide if being hot for a night was worth passing out from hunger at a concert. "Fuck it. Unzip me. I'm getting it. Food can wait. I'm only this young and hot once in my life." 

"I know that's right! Speaking of Lover Boy, how was Chicago? Y'all see something worth going half on?" 

Asia chewed her lip as Sabrina pulled the dress's zipper down the short track. "Uh…he found something he likes, yeah." 

"Did you like it? I mean, I know it's not your place, but you'll be there half the year, damn near. You should at least wanna be there!" 

"Well. That's the thing." Curious eyes awaited Asia when she turned around to face an expectant Sabrina. "I…may not be visiting…at all." 

Curiosity quickly morphed into all-out confusion. "Are you breaking up with him?" 

"No! No, I'm not breaking up with him. He might wanna break up with me when I tell him I can't do long distance, but that's a different story."

The final piece of Asia's confession came out as a mumble muffled behind the dress, shielding for the sure tongue lashing on the other side of her honesty, but nothing came. Silence hung between them for several seconds, letting the untz untz of department store electronic music pulse through their small dressing room. 

Finally, Sabrina cleared her throat. "Okay," she spoke more to herself than to Asia. "Alright. Let's talk this out. You can't do long distance. Why?" 

Asia thought about telling her best friend how much she craved nearby affection and thought being long-distance left too much room for mistakes. She could throw sugar over her true feelings and go on a diatribe to explain all the ways a relationship separated by almost 800 miles wasn't fair to her after years of being alone. She felt punished by some unseen force, beaten down for some sort of sick amusement. 

Instead, she shared the plain and simple heart of the matter as she slid her jeans over her legs. "I had rules and boundaries when we started our thing, and I let him break every one of them. I didn't want to kiss, but he did. So, we kissed. I said no staying the night, and a month later, I'm leaving toiletries at his place, Sabrina. We haven't used protection in over a week, and I'm just…letting it happen! What am I doing?" 

Losing herself. While Kelvin made strides to grow and improve, Asia allowed the first taste of genuine partnership to turn her into a woman more concerned with pleasing her partner than advocating for her own needs. She'd bent and contorted herself to fit Kelvin's vision on more than one occasion, and though he never asked her to, he never told her to stop. She never felt compelled to stop. That scared her the most. If she couldn't stop there, how far would she allow herself to go in pursuit of someone else's happiness? 

"I love Kelvin. I love him so much it makes me sick and gives me life all at the same time. I don't want to hurt him." Of everything she'd said, Asia fessing up to the l-word shook Sabrina. "But I can't keep loving him without loving myself. It's not fair to him or me."

She hugged Asia, not caring about her state of undress. "Oh, friend. Welcome to the sick, sad, beautiful world of being in love. Ain't it fun!" Her joke helped Asia release the breath she didn't know she was holding through a strained laugh. Sabrina rocked them from side to side as she spoke. "Trust your gut, girl. I've never known you to make a decision you didn't think through. Do what you have to do. If this is what you think it is, he'll understand." 

"You think so?" Asia sniffled into Sabrina's shoulder.

"He better!" Sabrina quipped. "And if he don't, so what? There are other men in the world and some of them are just as cute, just as successful, and just as willing to give you the world. You gon' be alright regardless, okay?"

I'll be okay regardless. Asia repeated the mantra to herself in an endless loop to calm her nerves from the couch because her next times had run out. By the end of the night, her chariot would turn into a pumpkin and end her perfect fairytale. Say goodbye to your glass slipper and fancy ball gown. Back to scrubbing the floors, you go.

Kelvin poured two glasses of champagne in the kitchen, whistling a made-up tune as he plopped fresh raspberries into crystal-clear flutes and covered them in fizzing liquid. He called for a cheers when she walked through the door dressed like a long-legged super moedel. A little pizzazz to kick off what he hoped would be their first holiday of many. 

Dress sock covered feet helped him glide across polished concrete, expertly balancing glassware en route to Asia across the room. "Alright! One for my beautiful baby," he announced before stealing a kiss. "And one for me." 

"What are we toasting to?" Asia asked, her glass raised and ready. 

Kelvin smiled and put his hand on her thigh. "To us, girl! Fuck everybody else," he exclaimed. "Cheers to us for taking a chance on each other. Hopefully, we'll take some more this year. I know the transition may start off rough, but I hope we'll work through it. I really care about you, Asia. I want to see how far we can take this." 

No response didn't stop Kelvin from clinking his glass against Asia's and taking a long sip of cold, pale liquid. She didn't join him. She couldn't join him. Taking a sip was too close to accepting her fate. Carefully, she put the glass on the coffee table then focused all her attention on her shoes. 

"Kelvin, I can't do the distance. I can't do Chicago." Barely above a whisper, the truth shocked only one of them as Asia looked him in the eyes and continued. "The more I sit and think about our relationship, the more I realize that who I am ran head first into living for you somewhere in the middle. Your needs have become my needs. I don't want to resent you down the line. Neither of us deserve that." 

Grief and sadness eluded Kelvin while he slid closer to Asia. He'd had his time to reckon with reality the night they returned to the hotel and caught her crying in the bathroom. Temporary arrangements had timelines, no matter how hard he tried to outrun them. 

Hearing her voice crack produced tears in the corners of his eyes as he laced his fingers in hers and kissed her knuckles. "I already knew. You're not that hard to read. But thank you for finally telling me." His index knuckle beneath her chin forced Asia to look up at him through cloudy vision. He kissed her forehead and nose before collecting stray tears on her cheeks. "I understand. It fucking sucks, but I understand. I never want to get in the way of your self-exploration, even if it doesn't include me. That's why we started all this, right?" 

"Yeah," she whispered. "Right." 

"Don't worry about me or hurting my feelings. We were friends before, and we can be friends again. That's okay," Kelvin assured. I still want to experience you while we have time, at least for tonight. This dinner reservation was hell to make, and I need you to validate that the tiramisu is fire. Like I can't be the only one of us to have it." 

Neither of them allowed misty eyes and hurt feelings to put a lid on their laughter. They were friends before, and though it'd take a moment to shake off a romance with so much potential, they could be friends again. 

Asia took a long, deep breath and nodded. "Okay. Tiramisu it is. Can I have a moment to touch up my makeup? I'm sure I look like Beetlejuice right now." 

"I wasn't gonna say anything. You look cute in a Pepe Le Pew sort of way," Kelvin joked, earning an eye roll and a grin for his antics. Anything to make her smile. "Go on. I'll be out here waiting." 

A parting kiss to her forehead gave Asia enough energy to click four-inch heels across the floor into the bathroom. Kelvin sat back against the couch to finally allow his heavy mind time to process all he'd heard. In four weeks, his greatest joy would see him off to Chicago without a date set for their reunion. He'd kiss her goodbye, hug her close, and see those beautiful eyes for the last time. The thought alone was enough to bring him to his knees.

Eventually, he'd come to terms with his loss. He had no choice. He'd pack up all his big feelings in the box with his prized possessions and board a flight to a land of new opportunity. 

But tomorrow's problems belonged to tomorrow. He had a month to face those. Watching Asia strut out of the bathroom in a red dress that hit her in all the right places was far more important. 

If this was all the time they had left, he had a few more lessons to teach.

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[scoutofmymind]

Momma I request a prompt inspired by a song of your choosing (: I L Y

Couldn’t Make It Any Harder — { Luigi x Reader }

Content: mental health issues, mentions of past trauma, TorturedArtist!Reader, Empath!Luigi, Luigi says “go birds” after flipping off a woman, confused feelings, situationship, reader is just Very Confused in general, angst, eventual romance.

Wc: 5,107

I couldn't make it

Any harder to love me

Oh, one day, believe me

You’ll want someone who makes it easy

This has been floating around in my asks for awhile, and I wasn’t feeling practically inspired by any songs lately until Sabrina released Couldn’t Make It Any Harder and I couldn’t stop thinking about writing it.

This work was done quickly between my other ongoing Luigi projects, so I apologize for any inconsistencies or skipped backstory (you know I’m a backstory bitch) but I simply needed to get this out of my system, and remembered that an anon had asked me to write something based off of a song quite awhile ago!

Also, how could I leave you hanging on Valentine’s Day? Even if I’m posting this at 2 AM….

It's 8:30 AM at your usual coffee spot — that tiny café two blocks from Luigi's apartment where the barista always draws terrible attempts at latte art, and you’re still wearing yesterday's mascara, not because you've been crying, but because you spent the night in your studio, channeling your frustration into a new piece that's all sharp edges and bold strokes.

"I mean, we had a great time!" You're gesturing with your coffee cup, nearly spilling it. "We went to that new gallery opening, and he actually understood my rant about contemporary minimalism. Then dinner, drinks, great conversation — and now? Radio silence. Three days of nothing."

Luigi, sitting across from you, is trying not to smile at how animated you are, his laptop open beside him — he's probably got a Slack channel blowing up with messages from his dev team, but he rushed to meet you for this emergency coffee session, anyway.

The startup's dress code might be casual, but he always manages to look put-together in that effortless way that makes other tech bros look like they're not trying hard enough.

"Maybe I'm just-“ you pause, stirring your coffee aggressively, "too much, you know? Too loud, too passionate, too-"

"Stop," Luigi cuts in, closing his laptop and fixing his gaze on you again, "You're not too anything. You're exactly enough. So don’t even go there with me.” He massages his temples, “Too early for it.”

"I know that," you say firmly, because you do. "That's the thing — I like who I am. I like that I can talk about art for hours. I like that I get excited about things. I like that I feel everything so intensely. I'm not going to make myself smaller just because some guy can't handle it."

"Then don't," Luigi says, and there's something in his voice that makes you look up from the foam disappearing from your cappuccino. "The right person won't want you to."

"Exactly! And you know what? If Jake can't handle a woman who knows what she wants and isn't afraid to say it-“ you trail off, reaching for your sketchbook. You start absent-mindedly drawing on a corner of the page.

“Ugh,” Luigi’s face screws in mock disgust, “His name was Jake?”

Putting down your pen, you lean back in your chair with a frustrated sigh. "But then again, if I'm so great, why does this keep happening? Three first dates in two months, Lu. Three. And they all end the same way."

"You mean with guys who can't handle someone who actually has opinions?" Luigi takes a sip of his coffee, his fingers tapping absently on his closed laptop. A notification buzzes on his phone — probably his team wondering where he is — but he doesn't even glance at it.

"No, see, that's just it," you lean forward, your hands moving expressively as you talk. "They love it at first. They think it's so fascinating and refreshing that I'm 'not like other girls', or whatever." You roll your eyes at the phrase, hating the taste of the words in your mouth. "But then it's like they realize I'm actually serious. That I'm not just putting on some manic pixie dream girl act for their entertainment."

Luigi's mouth quirks up at one corner. "Heaven forbid you be a real person with actual thoughts and feelings."

"Right? And I know — I know I'm not too much," you say, but your voice wavers slightly. You start fidgeting with your rings, a habit Luigi's seen a thousand times when you're wrestling with something in your head. "But sometimes I wonder if-"

"If what?"

"If maybe I should just- you know.. tone it down? Just a little? Just at first?" The words sound wrong coming out of your mouth, and you can see from Luigi's expression that he knows it, too. "No, you're right, forget I said that. That's stupid."

"It is stupid," he agrees, but gently. His eyes catch yours across the table again, his gaze steady and genuine. "Remember that installation you did last month? The one about authenticity?"

"Yeah?"

"What did you tell that bag of bones professor who said it was 'overwhelmingly honest'?"

A smile starts to spread across your face. "I told him that was the whole damn point."

"Exactly." Luigi checks his watch and starts gathering his things — he's definitely late now. "So maybe the problem isn't that you're too overwhelming,” he pats the top of your head, slinging his bag over his shoulder, “maybe they're just underwhelming."

•

You're standing in front of your last piece, forcing a smile that feels like it's splitting your face in half, as another guest explains to you what your own art means.

Behind you, you can hear snippets of conversations that make your skin crawl.

It's a bit... aggressive, isn't it?

Not quite gallery standard... these nepo kids..

Experimental, but perhaps too experimental..

Your hands are shaking, so you clasp them behind your back. You've been doing this grim waltz for two hours �� nodding, smiling, explaining yourself over and over to people who look through you rather than at you, and the gallery owner keeps shooting you these looks, these little disappointed glances that make you feel about two inches tall.

You catch Luigi's eye across the room.

He's been watching, you realize, while pretending to be deeply invested in a conversation with some tech entrepreneur who probably thinks art is a good investment opportunity, and he tilts his head slightly — a question.

You shake yours — you’re not okay.

"The brushstrokes here," the current patron is saying, pointing at your most vulnerable piece, "they're rather — well, chaotic. Unorganized. Muddy. It’s strange to see. Was that intentional?"

Something inside you splinters.

"Excuse me," you manage, your voice surprisingly steady for how the room is tunneling, how your fingers begin to tingle, how your lungs have lost the ability to draw in a full breath. "I need some air."

You make it through the gallery, past the whispers and the stares, past the owner who starts to say something about maintaining appearances, past the front desk and around the corner to the back alley.

Then your legs give out.

You're gasping, trying to remember how breathing works, your back against the cold brick wall. The dress — that stupid yellow dress that Luigi said was his favorite — feels too tight. Everything feels too tight.

You tear at your collar, needing air, needing space, needing- "Hey." Luigi's voice, close but not too close. "I'm here."

"I can't-" you choke out. "I can't breathe, I can't-"

"Yes, you can." He moves slowly into your space, hands hovering but not touching. "Look at me. Just look at me. I’m right here. It’s all good.”

You shake your head violently, sliding down the wall. "They're right. They're all right. I'm not- this- This isn't-" Each word feels like it's being ripped from your throat, bloody and raw and dishonest and horrific. They aren’t right. You know they aren’t.

"Bullshit." The sharpness in his voice makes you look up. He's crouched in front of you now, his tie completely undone, his eyes fierce. "They're not right. They're not even close to right. They're looking at fireworks and complaining about the noise. Old fuckin’ bunch’a assholes.”

A sob catches in your throat, half laugh, half cry. "That's a terrible metaphor."

"Made you look at me, though." His voice softens, his hands resting on your clammy shoulders. "Breathe with me, okay? Just breathe."

You try to match his exaggerated breathing, your hands still shaking. "I put everything into this show," you whisper after your second deep breath. "Everything."

"I know."

"And they just- they- they just-“

"I know." He shifts, sitting beside you against the wall, careful to leave space, but still your shoulders bump together. "But. Want to know what I think?"

You turn your head to look at him, makeup probably ruined, dress definitely stained from the alley ground, but you’ve already abandoned ship, you’ve waved your white flag — there’s no use in pretending you haven’t crumbled in a New York alleyway now. "What?"

"I think they're terrified of you."

That startles a real laugh out of you, “What?"

"You heard me." He's looking straight ahead, but there's something fierce in his profile. "You walked in there with your soul on full display, unapologetic and raw and real, and they don't know what to do with that. People like that, they're comfortable with art they can hang in their dining rooms and forget about.” You watch him blink, gathering the words, “Your shit doesn't let them forget. It makes them feel things they don't want to feel."

You nudge him gently, a laugh flaring your nostrils. "That's a lot better than the fireworks metaphor."

Now he does look at you, a small smile playing at his lips, his cheeks blushed crimson from the wine he’d gulped down just to make himself a bit more sociable. "Yeah, well, I've had three glasses of their overpriced wine. I'm feeling poetic."

Another laugh bubbles up, watery but real. You let your head fall against his shoulder, just for a moment. "I don't want to go back in there."

"So we won’t." He doesn't move, letting you lean on him, his head leaning atop yours. "Let's go get real drinks instead. You can tell me all the things you wanted to say to that guy who tried to explain color theory to you."

"God, he was the worst." You straighten up slowly, wiping at your eyes. "Did you see his socks?"

"I was trying not to."

•

You're standing at the open bar, counting the minutes until it's socially acceptable to leave, when Madison — a college friend you haven't seen in years, who always seemed to help herself to open bars beyond her means — sways over.

Her champagne sloshes dangerously close to your dress, but for some reason, you don’t step back.

"Oh my god, it really is you!" Her voice carries just a bit too loud, and you can feel a few heads turning in your direction. "I almost didn't recognize you without, you know-“ she gestures vaguely at all of you, that sick smile still on her blush pink lips. "All the paint and shit all over you.”

You take a long sip of your drink, hoping it would wash away the rising tide of anxiety in your core. "Good to see you too, Mads.”

"So,” She leans in conspiratorially, her breath smelling of booze and mid-tier champagne. “I heard about your gallery show last month. The one at The Maxwell? God, that must have been-“ She trails off, eyes wide with what looks like concern but feels like something else entirely.

Your hand tightens around your glass. "Must have been what?" Your lips tighten into a line, “It was an- an honor to have the opportunity.”

Words your father had always said to you growing up echo in the far depths of your mind; Honor and Integrity.

There’s a humility in it, in accepting such a nightmare as privilege.

"Well, I mean — I saw that article that was going around Instagram. About how you just up and left? In the middle of opening night?" She takes another sip of champagne, watching you over the rim with her big, stupid brown eyes. "Is that true? That you didn't even come back to collect your pieces? God, that's crazy!"

The word crazy hits like a slap, and you can still feel the panic from that night, the walls closing in as people whispered, pointed, discussed your work like it was a car crash they couldn't look away from and did nothing to aid.

"It's not exactly-"

"And after everything with Matt, and then Jason- ugh,” She shakes her head. "I mean, I get it. Using art as therapy. But maybe actual therapy would be — I dunno — you know, beneficial?”

"Madison-"

"I'm just worried about you," she continues, reaching for your arm and her fingers feel like serpents, coiling around your skin, suffocating you. "We all are. First the whole thing with your poor father — god, remember how he used to say you were just too-"

"Don't." Your voice comes out sharper than intended, your brows furrowed at her like she’d backhanded you. “Don’t you fucking say another word.”

Madison almost gasps, clutching her necklace. “See? This is what I mean. All this reactionary stuff. The anger. The intensity. Have you thought about getting help? My therapist says sometimes when we've been through things-"

The garden somehow feels too small, the fairy lights too bright, the music too loud. Across the room, Luigi is trapped in conversation with the bride's uncle, but somehow he must sense something because his eyes find yours, his head tilted at you, his usual question.

Everything okay?

This time, you look away from him.

"I’m going to leave this conversation before-“

"No, wait, listen." Madison's grip on your arm tightens, slithering, sneering, hissing. Fangs, poison. “That show — people were talking about it for weeks. How raw it was. How fucking uncomfortable it made everyone. One of the pieces — the one with all the broken mirrors? Someone said it looked like a cry for help."

You can feel your pulse in your throat. "It wasn't a fucking-“

"And then you just disappeared! Like, who does that, girl? Just leaves their own show? The curator had to pack up your pieces himself. That's what the article said. Is that true?" She may as well have a microphone beneath your trembling lips, taking on the role of some cheap reporter for a local shittalking magazine.

Of course she read the article.

Everyone read the article.

The one that called your work a disturbing glimpse into a clearly troubled mind. The one that suggested your artistic breakdown was inevitable given your history of emotional instability.

It was laughable, truly, and anyone that knew you well enough had known so much to be so very far from the truth.

"I had my reasons," you manage, but your voice sounds distant even to yourself. “I had reason for leaving the way I did.”

"Obviously you did. That's what I'm saying. Maybe if you got some help, you know, dealt with all this and found ways to properly cope-“ She waves her hand vaguely again, like swatting away a pesky fly. "Then maybe you could make art that's more you know.. accessible. Enjoyable. Less-“

"Less me?" The words come out before you can stop them. “Bullshit. You wouldn’t know, Madison. You haven’t seen a single one of my shows, haven’t shown yourself at any of my gallery openings-“ your cheeks burn red hot, your glass of wine discarded and your hands balled into fists. “You’re lucky I don’t fucking pop that smirk right off your-“

"That's not what I-"

“It is exactly what you fucking-“

“No, it’s not! Look at yourself!”

"Hey!” Luigi's voice cuts through the rising panic. He's suddenly there, solid and real. "Sorry to interrupt, but we have that thing that we have to get to-“ he loops his arm around yours, and he swears he can feel the heat radiating off of you, hot and quivering like a volcano deciding if it’s time to erupt just yet or not.

Madison blinks at him, her nostrils flared at the sudden interruption. It seems as though this is exactly the reaction she wanted, and was pissed the show had called curtains so quickly. "What thing?"

"That very important thing," Luigi says firmly, already guiding you away. "Great catching up. Green is not your color. Go Birds.” As he turns you both, he raises his middle finger behind your back — not because you needed defending, but because that's who Luigi is; all sharp edges and fierce loyalty, a guard dog with his teeth bared in your honor, though, you catch the gesture in a reflection, and something warm unfurls in your chest.

Not because you needed saving, but because he'd always take your side, no matter the circumstances. He didn’t need to know why you were barking at this girl he’d never met before — he already knew you had good reason to do it.

You make it to the venue's back garden before your legs give out, and the fairy lights blur through tears you refuse to let fall. "Did you— fuck,” Your voice shakes as you reach to wipe away the tears before they even get the chance to glide down your cheeks. "Did you actually hear what she was saying or just see it?”

"Caught the greatest hits." His jaw is tight, his hand resting on your lower back as he hunches forward, clearly concerned but approaching all of it carefully.

You can’t help but wonder then how many times you’ll find yourselves like this — Luigi rescuing you from yet another mishap, and that alone could become a new reason to feel sorry for yourself.

And him.

"The article." You wrap your arms around yourself. "She read the fucking article."

Ironically, you had originally taken the article well.

Too well, in fact.

You'd invited them all over — Luigi, Anna, Theo — for what you called A Reading of My Professional Obituary. You'd spent all day in the kitchen, channeling your grandmother's stress-cooking legacy; bouillabaisse simmering for hours, Tarte Tatin caramelizing to golden perfection.

The good wine came out, the kind you'd been saving for a real occasion.

Perched in your chair like it was a throne, wine glass dangling from your fingers, you'd performed dramatic readings of the choicest quotes. "Sources close to the artist describe a history of emotional instability," you'd intoned, affecting a pompous art critic voice that had Luigi choking on his wine. "An unsettling collection that seemed less like art and more like a cry for help.”

The evening devolved into a tipsy game of "Guess the Snitch" — everyone taking turns suggesting increasingly ridiculous candidates for the mysterious source. "It was Gabby, in the gallery, with the emotional manipulation!" Theo had declared, wielding his bouillabaisse spoon like a gavel.

But Luigi had watched you through it all — the way your hand shook slightly when pouring wine, how your laugh got a little too loud to be genuine, and how you'd spent three hours making a perfect French dessert like your life depended on proving you weren't falling apart.

"We all did." Luigi reminds you, his voice gentle but firm. "Christ, we turned it into dinner theater. Remember how Anna did that dramatic interpretation of ' the unsettling collection'?" His hand finds your knee, squeezing. "And it was shit. Not only was it shit — it was cowardly. Didn't even have the spine to name you."

You tilt your head back, using the stars as gravity's help against the tears threatening to spill. The fairy lights from the wedding garden blur into little halos. "I know, but — these people, Lu." Your voice catches, and you hate how it betrays you. "They believe it. They're all walking around thinking I'm some unhinged artist who needs to be sedated and locked away from sharp objects." A laugh escapes, but it's wet and hollow. "God, I wish I'd understood what that article would do. I wish-"

But there's no point in wishing.

The damage was done with surgical precision.

They hadn't needed to use your name — everyone knew exactly whose exhibition had opened at Maxwell Gallery on August fifteenth.

Yours.

•

The hotel room feels smaller with each passing hour.

You've mastered a careful choreography — sliding past each other in the narrow spaces, maintaining precise distances on the king bed as you both pretend to watch some mindless cooking show. But sometimes, despite your best efforts, you slip. His hand brushes yours as you both reach for the room service menu, your feet touch under the shared blanket; each accidental contact sends you recoiling like a startled cat, though you used to fall asleep during movie nights without a second thought.

When your knee accidentally bumps his as you shift position, you jerk away so violently you nearly fall off the bed.

"Okay." Luigi mutes the TV, turning to face you. "We need to talk about this."

"About what?" But you know exactly what, can feel heat creeping up your neck and it makes you want to run.

"About how we used to share my twin bed during college when you crashed at my place, but now you act like my skin is fucking toxic." His voice is gentle, but there's an undercurrent of hurt that makes your core ache. "Remember that road trip to Detroit? You slept on my chest the whole way back because the car heater was broken.“ he looks desperate, grasping at the last straws of you. “I feel like we hardly look each other in the eyes now.”

You stare hard at the geometric pattern on the duvet, picking at a loose thread. "Things were different then."

"Were they?" He shifts closer, and you fight the urge to move away. "Or are you just scared they weren't?"

You get up abruptly, needing to put physical space between you and that question, the Chicago night spreading out beyond the window, a constellation of lights blurring through unshed tears; each one feels like a witness to this moment, to your cowardice.

"You know what changed," you say finally, arms crossed tight against your chest like armor. "After Maxwell, after the article, after everything became public consumption — I can't be that person anymore.”

"Why not?" His voice is closer now — he's moved to the edge of the bed, but he doesn't approach further. Giving you space while refusing to let you run.

Very classic Luigi.

A laugh escapes you, bitter and dry. "Because now everyone's watching. Waiting for the next shoe to drop. And you-“ You turn just enough to catch his reflection in the window, superimposed over the city lights. "You're too important to me, Lu.”

"So you'd rather just — what? Keep pretending?" There's frustration in his voice now, raw and real. "We both know that's not sustainable. Not when we used to-“ He trails off, and you recall the many countless nights on his cramped couch, your head on his chest, his heartbeat your lullaby to the most restful sleep you’d ever known.

"Maybe not," you admit quietly. "But it's safer than the alternative."

"Safer for who?"

The question almost knocks you off your feet.

Because he's right — this careful distance isn't protecting him. It's protecting you. From vulnerability. From the possibility of loss. From the terrifying reality that despite everything, despite all your jagged edges and dark corners, he's still here.

Still looking at you like you're something precious instead of precarious.

The silence stretches between you, heavy with all the things you're afraid to say, all the ways you're afraid to need him, and even more terrified of the way he needs you.

Eventually, you turn from the window, facing him. "It can't be simple. I won't let it be." Your voice catches. "I push and I pull and I keep everyone at arm's length until they prove me right by leaving."

Luigi stands slowly, like he's approaching a wild animal. "You've been trying so hard to make it impossible," he says softly. "Creating distance, convincing yourself I'll give up." He takes another step closer. "But loving you has always been the easiest thing I've ever done."

"Don't." The word comes out choked, your hand pressing against his chest in hopes that he’ll back away. "Don't say that when you know how complicated — how- how difficult-"

"Difficult?" He's close enough now that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, stood firm but not inching any closer. "You want to talk about difficult? Try watching you date other people. Try sitting across from you at coffee shops for years and watching you cry over them. Try fucking loving you quietly through every gallery opening, every crisis,“ his brows furrow, his nostrils flare, “you don’t get to tell me what loving you is like.”

Your breath catches as he reaches for you.

"You think you're pushing me away?" His voice is barely above a whisper, his hands finally cradling your face, tears dampening your cheeks that blaze with warmth. "I've been yours since that first night you fell asleep on my shoulder during finals week. Everything since then — it's just been waiting."

You clench your jaw, your heart a wild thing against your ribs. This tightrope you and Luigi have been walking for years — this delicate balance of almost-but-not-quite, of maybe-someday-but-not-now — has finally frayed beneath your feet. All those careful steps, those perfectly maintained distances, those nights of pretending your skin didn't burn where he almost touched you.

They’ve led you here, to this hotel room in Chicago, where the fantasy of staying safely suspended between friendship and something more has finally given way to gravity.

And what, you wonder, has Luigi seen in you to make him want to dive deeper into your chaos?

He's already witnessed the 3 AM phone calls when your mind won't quiet, the obsessive cleaning episodes that leave your hands raw and your apartment sterile. He's held you through the tears that come without warning, weathered the anger that burns hot and fast like summer lightning.

You're no manic pixie dream girl — you're the real thing, messy and unpredictable, with a heart that bleeds all over everything it touches.

He's either a storm chaser or a fool, you think.

Some hopeless beast tamer who hasn't realized that some creatures aren't meant to be gentled, that some storms leave nothing but wreckage in their wake.

But that's the thing — to Luigi, you've never been a storm to weather or a beast to tame. He doesn't look at you like you're broken machinery in need of repair, doesn't treat your edges like something to be smoothed away.

Instead, he's spent years matching your pace, stepping back when you needed space, stepping forward when you needed anchor. And now, finally, the weight of all that careful patience has brought him here — raw and honest in this dim hotel room, asking you to either meet him in this space between what you are and what you could be, or lay him to rest.

"Touch me," he says, the words falling soft but heavy in the space between you. His eyes hold yours, steady and sure, "Or let me go.”

The city lights paint his silhouette in gold and shadow, and you realize you've never seen him look so vulnerable, so stripped of the careful composure he always maintains. Your Luigi laid bare — not the patient friend, not the steady shoulder, but a man who's finally reached the end of his endurance.

"What if we break?" The question slips from your lips, small and honest, carrying all the weight of your fears that kept you at such a distance all these years — shattering to pieces, left broken by the man you’d loved the most.

Luigi's eyes soften, and something like a smile — sad and sweet and knowing — tugs at the corner of his lips. "Then we break," he says simply, his thumbs swiping away the tears that slide down your cheeks. "But I'd rather that than spend the rest of my life whole and wondering."

His hands haven’t moved. Patient, steady Luigi, who has never pushed but never fully retreated, either. Who has somehow found this perfect middle ground between staying and going, between asking and waiting.

And maybe that's what finally does it — the realization that he's offering you both beginning and end in the same breath. That he's standing here saying yes to all of it; the possibility of breaking, of shattering, of ending up with nothing but deadly carnage between you.

That he knows exactly what he's asking for, and he's asking anyway.

Your hand moves before you can think yourself out of it again, crossing the space between you like a prayer finally answered. When you cup his face, the scrape of stubble against your palm is both foreign and achingly familiar — like a song you used to know by heart, now half-remembered.

His eyes flutter closed at your touch, and you feel the slight tremor in his jaw, the way he leans into your hand like he's been starving for it.

His breath catches, shaky and soft, and when he speaks, his voice is rough with emotion. "There you are," he whispers against your palm, like he's greeting someone long lost, like you've finally come home after years away. "There you are."

His lips brush your palm once more before he lifts his gaze to yours, eyes dark with something between hope and heartache. "Tell me to pull away," he whispers, voice rough. "Tell me this isn't what you want, and I'll go. I'll understand."

But his body betrays him — the slight tremor still present in his jaw under your touch, the way he's still leaning into your hand like he can't help himself. He's offering you an exit, even now. Steady, selfless Luigi, always making sure you have a way out, even when it's killing him to do so.

And that's what breaks you finally — not his touch or his words, but this endless capacity of his to put your needs first.

To stand here offering everything he has left and the chance to walk away from it.

His hand finds your waist, fingers pressing into soft flesh with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. That small sound seems to undo something in him — his control fractures, and suddenly he's pulling you down to him with a urgency that matches your own, your hands bracing against his chest, feeling the thundering of his heart beneath your palms.

"I've thought about this," he confesses roughly, eyes locked on yours with an intensity that makes heat pool low in your stomach, his thumb tracing a burning path along your hip bone. "Having you like this.”

You can feel the tension coiled in him, the way he's still holding back despite everything. Even now, he's giving you the chance to set the pace, to decide how far this goes. But you're done with hesitation, done with the careful distance you've maintained for so long.

You lean down, letting your lips brush against his ear. "Show me," you whisper, and feel him shudder beneath you. "Show me how you wanted me."

He moves with a swiftness that steals your breath, flipping your positions in one fluid motion. Now he's the one hovering above you, his forearm braced beside your head, other hand still at your waist.

The weight of him, the heat of him so close — it makes your head spin.

"Like this," he breathes, pressing his forehead to yours. "Just like this." He holds you like you’ll run from him — just like he’s watched you run from everything before that doesn’t run from you first.

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, feeling the tension there, the way he's trembling slightly despite his strength. "I'm here," you whisper back, one hand sliding up to cup his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere."

[annoyinglilbro]

Little bro who ges away with everything because he's the baby of the family and big bro who is so over it. So when Little bro breaks his brother's skateboard, big bro drags him to his room and spanks him raw over it

Little bro who doesn’t even care, he can just buy another it’s not a big deal. Still his big brother is yelling at him and he’s not used to it. He rolls his eyes and tries to walk away, he’ll get over it, but he’s grabbed by the wrist and dragged into his older brothers room.

“Stop! What are you doing?!”

“I’m so sick of your attitude! I’m in charge this weekend remember? It’s about time someone taught you discipline . Mom and dad are too soft with you and that’s why you’re a brat. I’m gonna fix that!” The entire time he’s ranting he’s pulling his brothers shorts down and pulling him over his lap.

His brother gasps and squirms in his grip, trying to getup but an arm over his back keeps him steady and in place.

“I’m sorry okay! Let me go! You’re being a jerk!”

The first slap suprises him, causing him to go completely still. He’s never been hit before, nobody has ever laid a hand on him. Then another slap comes. And another. His ass is glowing red, and it stings. He hasn’t even realized he started crying.

“Stop! Stop it! It hurts! I’m gonna tell!” He’s not counting how many his brothers hand makes contact with his ass, doesn’t pay attention to the hard cock pressing against his stomach. He just wants him to stop spanking him.

“Struggling is going make it worse. Be a good boy and take your punishment. I’m tired of you being a brat.”

He does eventually stop struggling, no more fight left in his now tired body. He instead sobs in his brothers laps and waits for the next slap. When it’s finally over his brother is rubbing his raw ass cheeks, the gentle touch soothing and comforting after the rough treatment. He shivers when his brother leans down and kisses each cheek.

“There. That wasn’t so bad was it?” He’s helping him pull up his shorts now and wiping away the tears on his face. “I had to teach you a lesson, you know that, right bubs? I did that out of love.”

His little brother nods, quickly opening his arms to give his brother a hug. He doesn’t want him to bed mad at him anymore. He doesn’t know why but he feels strangely attached to his big brother now.

“You’re a good boy. I love you very much, you just need someone with a stern hand, yeah? That’s all this was. You took it so well.”

“Th…thank you.” He mumbles against his brothers chest.

“Already so much better behaved. I knew this would do the trick.” Big brother beams proudly, hugging his little brother tight.

When their parents come back from their trip there’s a noticeable difference. Their youngest is much more behaved, and practically attached to his big brothers hip.

[livwritesstuff]

happy valentine's day pallies <3 threw this the office-inspired drabble together for funsies over the last few days and thought today was a good a day as any to finally post

“What the hell is wrong with Dustin?” Eddie asked as he walked through the open door to Robin and Nancy’s apartment, “I passed him in the hall and he’s ranting and raving like a goddamn lunatic. Barely even acknowledged me.”

“You got lucky,” Steve shook his head as the rest of the Party, scattered around the living room, gave a similarly over it-kind of response, “Also – hey. Missed you.”

Eddie dropped down onto the couch next to Steve and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Ugh,” Robin groaned from the other end of the couch, “Either get a room or be gross later.”

“Missed you more, my love,” Eddie said loudly and pointedly as he settled in, and Steve ignored the way Robin rolled her eyes as Eddie draped an arm over his shoulders, “So…Dustin? What’s his deal?”

“He thinks he’s never gonna find love,” Lucas said from his spot on the rug, mouth full of half-crunched chips.

“Because he hasn’t dated anyone since Suzie,” Will clarified.

Steve watched Eddie’s eyebrows furrow.

“Uh, okay, didn’t they split, like, a month ago?”

“Yep,” Mike nodded.

“And didn’t Dustin just say last week that he’s happily married to his studies?”

“Dude,” Mike replied, “If you hadn’t been thirty minutes late, you would have seen us ask him these exact same questions.”

“Alright, gimme a fuckin’ break, man,” Eddie protested as Robin stuck a foot out and clipped the side of Mike’s head, “Not all of us are in college, asshole, living our most carefree lives. Some of us have jobs we're societally obligated to hold onto, Michael.”

“Anyway,” Steve cut in before Mike and Eddie’s bickering could derail the discussion too badly, “Dustin is apparently so desperate for love or whatever now that he’s trying to crowdsource a relationship.”

“And we’ve all been drafted,” Max said drily, “He wants us to set him up with someone at least once a month.”

“Each,” El added from beside Max in the armchair they're squashed in together.

“Each,” Max repeated with a nod.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie blinked, “He needs to chill out.”

Eddie got a chorus of agreements in response, plus another snarky comment from Mike about how he could have told Dustin this himself if he hadn’t been late to their weekly movie night hangout, and then from there, the conversation spun into the Party’s usual overlapping pre-movie (waiting for the pizza to be delivered) chatter.

Eddie turned his attention to Steve.

“So who’s the lucky girl you’re siccing our deranged little buddy on?” he asked, voice just loud enough for Steve to hear over the surrounding conversations.

“I dunno,” Steve shrugged, catching Eddie's hand in his and starting to fiddle with the chunky ring on his pointer finger, “I don’t think anyone here is gonna put up with his shit, but…yeah, I dunno, I feel bad. I might try setting him up with Lauren – y’know, Andie’s friend she has over all the time?”

Andie is Steve’s roommate, who took Robin’s spot on the lease after Robin, the woman she is, U-Hauled with Nancy at a spectacular rate (barely a month into her and Steve’s lease). Steve couldn’t exactly blame her – Nancy’s brownstone is leagues (and leagues and leagues and leagues) nicer than the shitty walk-up he and Robin had barely been able to afford at the time. Plus, Robin was all kinds of apologetic about it – paid her half of the rent and everything until she found a suitable subletter.

Enter Andie, a women’s and gender studies major who Robin had met at their school’s SGA during her first semester of undergrad and who leans pretty much as far to the right on the good ol' Kinsey Scale as someone could. Both Steve and Andie had been a little on the fence at first, but as far as living with a half-stranger goes, he can admit that it actually went okay.

Case in point, he and Andie are both a good few years out of college now and neither of them have made any move to, y'know...move.

“Lauren?” Eddie repeated, “You mean, Andie’s straight friend? The one Andie is very actively and overtly trying to woo?”

“It’s not gonna work,” Steve insisted (because this has been a topic of conversation between the two of them for a while), “If she’s straight, she’s straight.”

“Well, yeah,” Eddie acknowledged, “But it’s not her I'd be worried about, Stevie.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon, Steve – it’s basically a lose-lose for you. If Dustin goes on a date with Andie’s straight friend that she is, once again, very overtly and obviously into, whether or not it goes well – whether or not it even happens, Steve – Andie’s gonna find out that you were the one behind it, and you’re living with her.”

“So?”

“Dude, you’re gonna get booted outta your place.”

“No way,” Steve scoffed at him.

“I’m telling you – hell hath no fury like a lesbian scorned. Have you seen Nancy at the bar when someone is trying to hit on Robin? The big guy in the clouds was cutting from the same cloth when he created these ladies.”

Steve rolled his eyes at his boyfriend's brand of ex-Catholic poetic.

“Well…whatever. It’s just an apartment. If Andie really has an issue…I dunno, I’ll just move.”

Eddie grinned at him.

“Oh really?” he says, “And who do you think’s gonna be taking you in? You’re a crazy neat-freak, you think it’s totally appropriate to watch sports during breakfast – I mean, seriously, I get wanting to watch Sunday Night Football or whatever, but listening to recaps before I've had a cup of coffee is borderline criminal – and you've got basically a thousand houseplants.”

“Yeah,” Steve gave a feigned nod of understanding, “Maybe I’ll just move in with my boyfriend – he could use some order in his life.”

“Okay,” Eddie said, straightening a little in his seat, “I’m in if you are, Stevie-boy.”

Steve felt his face fall just a little. He tried to laugh it off, but even he could hear how awkward it sounded, and he glanced around to make sure the rest of the Party was otherwise occupied.

“I mean...," he said slowly, keeping his eyes on their hands so he didn't have to look at Eddie and his ever-expressive face, "I’m not gonna move in with someone unless we’re getting married.”

He really won’t either.

He’d done that before with his first serious boyfriend a few years ago – it was kind of a U-Haul situation in its own right, and it’s how Steve’s apartment became Andie’s apartment that Steve pretty please asked to move back into four months later when everything went to shit with the boyfriend.

(Their landlord had raised an eyebrow at them when they asked to put Steve back on the lease he’d only just left, but he didn’t ask any questions.

“He probably thinks we’re, like, a total dysfunctional couple or something,” Andie had pointed out.

“If only he knew,” Steve shook his head, “He’s leasing to a pair of idiot queers who can’t get their love lives together.”)

So, yeah, the U-Hauling thing may work for lesbians (or, two very specific lesbians whose couch he's sitting on, at the very least), but it’s not for Steve.

He’s a little too intense for it, contradictory as it sounds. He’s been burned in the past by the notion that someone could be willing to take a step as big as moving in with someone, and yet still see their relationship as “unserious” enough to balk at other big things (things like meeting each other’s friends and family, and what to do if Steve had another seizure). He’s not interested in being burned again, thanks.

Not that he actually thinks Eddie would do anything like that – the opposite actually. Steve knows he won’t.

For as long as he and Eddie were friends, Steve had known it in a kind of way he didn't even think about, and he's known it in another way, in a way he couldn't not think about, ever since he eavesdropped on a conversation between Robin and Eddie.

“Steve’s boyfriend is a fucking asshole and I hate him,” Robin had said, because this was back when Steve was dating (and living with) his ex, who did turn out to be a colossal fucking asshole, but this was the first time Steve had heard that particular opinion voiced by one of his friends.

“Shit, okay," Eddie had replied, "Do I need to go kick someone’s ass?”

Robin had paused for a split second before saying, “No. You’d just finally decide to confess your love for him and make everything even messier than it already is.”

They'd both been quiet for another few moments, and then Eddie let out a frustrated sigh.

"Fuck, man, that blows." Another pause. "I just – I don't understand how anybody could get to have Steve like that and not worship every breath he takes. I'm telling you – if it were me, you'd be able to break me down into fuckin' molecules and still be able to find him there. He's the sun in the fuckin' sky, dude. How are people not getting this?"

Steve hadn't been able take any more than that, not without feeling like something within him would split in two, so he had gone back to getting snacks in the kitchen like Eddie and Robin had thought he was doing, and then he'd spent the rest of the night feeling a little nauseous in a way he couldn't explain.

To this day, Steve is pretty sure that neither Robin nor Eddie know that he'd overheard their conversation, but it's what led to him breaking up with his boyfriend nonetheless.

Nothing had happened between Steve and Eddie at first. Eddie had actually been in his own relationship at the time, despite his and Robin' conversation, though they inexplicably split only a month after Steve’s break-up (Eddie never gave the Party a reason why).

Not too long after that though, Eddie had shown up on Steve’s doorstep (in a goddamn rainstorm, no less, the theatrical bastard) to profess his undying love, and by then Steve had spent enough time reflecting on the last several years of his friendship with Eddie and had firmly landed on the conclusion that he was in love with him too.

And so here they are now.

Steve spared a quick glance at Eddie to see that he was wearing a cute, kind of confused look.

“Wait – Steve, have I not proposed to you yet?”

And Eddie's truly dumbfounded tone, Eddie's way of bringing Steve's attention back up to his face so Steve could see the cheeky grin he's still wearing, had relief flooding through Steve's veins and washing away any doubt or insecurity or fear because, as Steve might have let himself forget, this is Eddie.

“I don’t think so…” Steve replied, then he flipped their clasped hands over to show his unmistakably ringless ring finger, “Nope.”

“Huh. Well…look out, Stevie, ‘cuz that’s coming.”

“Oh really?” Steve asked, and now he’s got a big smile growing on his face too, and he ignored the way his heart was thrumming over what Eddie had just divulged to him, how matter-of-fact, how certain he'd sounded when he said it.

“Uh-huh,” Eddie nodded, and Steve is so in love with him it nearly hurts.

“You mean, like, right now?” Steve continued, still feigning confusion, still keeping up the bit like they weren't having a huge, important, real conversation right now, because they hadn’t been together that long, all things considered, and yet Steve wasn’t surprised to hear any of this because he felt it too.

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Not right now. Have a little faith, darling. Now would be pathetically unromantic.”

“Hmm,” Steve hummed his agreement, though a small part of him could acknowledge that now – happy and surrounded by all their friends – wouldn’t be the worst way to get engaged, but Eddie hadn't lost any of his flair for dramatics over the years, so he's not exactly surprised to hear that Eddie is picturing something more.

“I got it all planned out, don’t you worry," Eddie told him, looking all kinds of proud, “And it’s gonna knock your socks off, Steve Harrington.”

"Alright," Steve said as Eddie leaned away, leaned back into conversation with their friends, a tight squeeze to Steve's hand his only acknowledgement of the sheer magnitude of the conversation they'd just had, "I've been warned."

[theshypinkflower]

I GIVE ZERO SHITS IF IT'S JANUARY

I REFUSE TO WAIT ON FEBRUARY 💘

So how would valentines day go for The main four in tpof (Mason, Fox, Celia, and Derek) ? + (Matt, Sal, Rhino, Kangaroo, and YOUR VERSION OF Cain bc poopy EP cain sucks?) ♥︎

congrats i waited til february lmao

Mason (assuming you some how miraculously survive and he romances you):

Nice romantic evening in the woods together!

Enjoying the sunset, nice quiet strolls together

Of course the most stunning sketch of you and carving the two of you into little wood figurines, perfect over the fire art piece

Heart meal fit for the two of you (cooked by none other than him)

Either the nastiest sex with his hunting knife to your throat or cuddling until he finally starts snoring (you can hear his snore for miles)

Fox:

There's gonna be a show...just saying (only fair for all his fans)

He at least gets you a gift! Something cute for you to wear or an adorable plushie for you to hold in your cell

A warm bubble bath after you (hopefully) survive his stream, he scrubs away all the blood until the water itself is red

Movies and snacks!!! He already fucked you (or at the very least got his rocks off) so the rest of the night he takes it easy with you. Besides, even a star needs a treat!

Celia:

It's a split. She's either with you or her husband trying to keep up some normalcy

Wine and talking, once the buzz finally starts kicking in so does sloppy make outs and groping

It's either sex and drunk fondling, or getting the end of her heel kicked into you

She doesn't really like Valentine's day, it ends in disappointment for her. But hey, at least she can drunkenly rant to you while she makes you shove a box of chocolates into your face

Derek:

Hell. If he's not going out with you, then sure as hell has got himself a hot date

Or he's spending the day really torturing you and making a mess

He still gets your a gift! It's lingerie (really a gift for himself)

Honestly the one time he brings in sex toys (other than to overstimulate you and humiliate you)

Matt:

What can I say? Normal Valentine's day

Dinner, gifts, kissing, all the stuff normal people do

Of course he spoils you with some dessert and chocolates <3

If he's utterly ashamed about being seen in public with you then he'll just stay at home with you

Plus he knows where to get the good champagne to celebrate

Salvatore:

Depends on who you are. His wife? Dinner, gifts, treated like a princess (of course you have to pay for all this with letting him have as many rounds as he wants with you)

Brags to all his friends that he was plans for V-day, especially the ones who don't do anything for the holiday

His whore? Yeah be lucky for him to even take you out to dinner. He's just there to do lines off you, beat you, and cum on you

Rhino (assuming you don't mind kids):

Its usually something super fun, like an amusement park or an arcade (it's mostly so his daughter can come along and not feel excluded by her dad having a date)

Still, it's fun. Nice dinner included! You all go to a sit down restaurant and eat together

Once she's put to bed and you two finally have some privacy, bro is giving the best fingering before getting freaky

He's such a gentle giant you really should marry him

Kangaroo:

Like Rhino, it's usually something fun! But it's with the intent that the both of you can enjoy it

Hatchet throwing, paintball, there's usually a competitive edge to it

Whoever wins gets to do whatever filthy act they crave that night!

It always ends with his tongue inside you, just saying

Bro is a bit TOO good with his tongue

SPEACIAL BONUS!

Cain:

The biggest romantic ever! He's serenading you with love songs, poems, he's literally like cupid! It's basically his job to be a romancer!

Valentine's is literally his favorite holiday

He's so good with words, he's all about seducing you and truly romancing you before being intimate ("making love" as he says it)

V-day isn't complete without slow dancing with you to a song you both love (something vintage and sweet)

Hurting you and being hurt is the greatest form of love and affection to him! Pain is just so much more intimate than his poems or his cards or his flowers

[soggy-fishsticks]

hi guys long ff7 idea rant/ramble below

I've seen this idea mentioned in a few posts here-and-there lately, but I feel like people really gloss over the inherent horror aspect of post-Nibelheim Sephiroth's body just, , being a projection. He's still there, yeah, but his true body has long since been dissolved in and eaten away by the lifestream.

If you think about the lifestream like the burning, acid-esque way we think of mako in ff7, then imagine how incredibly horrific and excruciatingly painful Sephiroth's death must've been.

WE NEED MORE FF7 HORROR GUYS PLSSSSS 😭😭🙏🙏 Because think about it: the image of Sephiroth being burned and dissolved alive when he falls into the lifestream, his real body not actually existing anymore, his "body" being a form that- hypothetically- could take any form he wanted, etc. etc. etc.

Imagine aus where him coming back again, and again, and again, and again acts like a purgatory he can't escape, and he's the only person who's unable to realize he's in one. An au where, miraculously, his physical body DOES come back but it's wrong. His body is inhuman, his flesh and bones are still dissolving, and he's nothing more than a crazed, lost spirit that Jenova refuses to let find any peace.

And think about Genesis!!!!! I see SOOO many fics completely gloss over Genesis and it's like NOOOO IT'D MAKE EVERYTHING SO MUCH MORE TRAGIC AND INTERESTING PLEASE SHOW HIS REACTION TO SEPHIROTH RETURNING BACK FROM THE LIFESTREAM FOR THE NTH TIME 💔💔💔💔 ESPECIALLY when he doesn't come back the same!!!!

For a while I've been tempted to write about this kind of stuff myself, but it's hard to find the motivation to write and finish something 😞 Anyways that's my rant ok bye xoxo 💋

[petitepatateuwu]

Have some rants about my fav Sonic ships

Trust me when I say this is not what I intended to do for Valentine's day, but my access to the proper materials for my next big project is currently fairly limited, so instead have this (I didn't think I had so much to say I got a bit carried away 👉👈). This is heavy with aro/ace/aroace discourse because as an aroace myself I cannot help it, and huh, reminder that this is just for fun and everyone's opinions are accepted around here as long as it's respectful :3

Espilver is so wholesome I am willing to temporaly remove the aromantic label I put on both these guys. And when an aroace person is ready to drop this label for a ship you know it has to be good. (They're still both asexual idc tho)

I am prone to shipping Sonic with pretty much everyone (elligible for that at least) while thinking he's the biggest aroace mood ever (but I know I am not alone on that one)

Since I've started posting Sonic fanart, there has not been a SINGLE sonadow ship art, but I still really love this ship. Like it's mostly what got me into Sonic in the first place but I don't want to draw it (honestly I think my mind is just drawn to less popular things, I mean sonadow is already everywhere on my dashboard)

Because (except for espilver) my top ships are sonjet and surgamy, I'm basically shipping your two main hedgehogs who are sometimes implied to have feelings for eachother in a gay relationship with a green person with spiky hair and an attitude, and I thought it was funny because it was NOT on purpose xD

Speaking of sonjet I have like three different timelines existing in my mind with this, because I love the "they never dated but they are definitely exes now"/"they tried smt some time ago it didn't work out" narrative, but also the one where Sonic can be the perfect boyfriend and respond to Jet's needs and issues I imagined for him, and also the one where Jet is a total girlfailure of a man who tries to rizz up someone who has zero clue.

I have thought over and over about Blaze ships and my mind just blocks it. At first I thought it was just Silvaze because I was overprotective of my Silver's orientation (when I first saw it I thought "yeah he's aroace", and I'm not a fan of shipping a guy and a girl just because they interact with eachother and are close). But it's everything. Sonaze? I mean she blushed around him on several occasions, so what? I feel like she's just not used to social interaction. Blazamy? I see the fluff, I see the awesome lesbian couple (and I'm an Utena fan, I gotta love the pink/purple yuri), but it doesn't light up anything in me. Are they any other Blaze ships? Idk, but I can't see her with anyone romantically. Never has a character given me so much aroace vibes that the very forces of nature are preventing me to ship her.

Vectilla activates my brain chemistry like crazy. TF you mean the only "sega-approved" ship is between two grown ass people who are not even part of the main character group? And one is a single mother too? Like it's very simple but it's already a norm breaker in my opinion. Though usually a bunch of male characters have their own personally-crafted love interest, they fall in love for no reason and the love is immediately reciprocal because of course it is (*cough* looking at you ninjago). I think it also work because both Vector and Vanilla have their own things going on, and the romance is just a nice plus. And since Team Chaotix is already the peak of Sonic found family, it's also cool to think about the shenanigans with the children (aka Espio, Cream and Charmy). I am a strong Vectilla shipper and I will make you care about them >:)

[akajustmerry]

Can you tell us more about queercoding in relation to robes? I'm so intrigued by that, especially when I've heard so many people say that Dale's queerness got sidelined this season

okay I'm gonna address the last thing you mention in this ask first ie Dale's queerness being "sidelined" because I've also seen this being said and from the bottom of my heart I want to say that if you (not you anon) watched season 3 of the Newsreader and thought that that Dale's queerness was sidelined, you do not have the reading comprehension skills or maturity necessary to appreciate the show. So just quickly wrt to the sideline claim:

Dale's bisexuality and his fear of it being discovered drives the great majority of his decisions - from how he dresses to who he spends time with to what he spends money on. So much so he has a literal mental breakdown over the constant pressure. Something that's a character's main motivation is by definition not sidelined.

I find what people usually mean when they say this, especially about bisexual characters but generally about LGB characters is that they view queer representation as almost exclusively queer intimacy. It should go without saying but being queer is about who you want to be intimate with as much as it is about actually being intimate. Dale doesn't experience a lot of queer intimacy and that is by design because of his fears of being discovered. Again the fact he isn't intimate with men is driven by his understanding of his queerness.

Finally, I really need Sam Reid fans from the Iwtv fandom to understand that Dale is the secondary protagonist of the Newsreader. Helen is the protagonist. And more generally, this is an ensemble show. If Dale feels off to the side it's because he is not the main character and not the focus of the show. At best he's the second main character behind Helen. This show is actually about Helen.

Okay that rant is done, onto the robe stuff:

Forgive me, I can't credit exactly where this was first discussed, historically, (I believe maybe in the documentary The Celluloid Closet but if anyone has a better reference lmk), but elaborate robes/dressing gowns have often been used in queer coding. This is in part because fancy robes on men signify significant disposable income via being a bachelor and having no wife or kids. They're luxury items.

This coding through costume goes as far back as Sam's uncle in Bewitched who was very queer coded and often wore elaborate dressing gowns. There's even a joke in The Nanny where Fran isn't surprised people think Max is gay and she lists off his bachelor status, grooming habits and robes. More recently, you can see this kind of coding through robes in costume design in Ripley where it's made a point that Tom takes and wears Dickey's robes, and in Queer 2024. This kind of design choice is even in Interview With The Vampire. Lestat and Louis both wear very fancy robes throughout the series (Lestat's far more opulent ofc), literally the morning after they first have sex there's that shot of Lestat seeing Louis out the door wearing a very snazzy dressing gown.

I think there's also a gendered element too in that dressing gowns/robes are seen as items of clothing a traditionally masculine man would not wear. This is also why male villains wearing dress robes is a trope because it's kind of a way to code deviancy by way of male femininity which has often had crossover with coding queerness. Not the most sophisticated or good faith example, I know, but the most recent fast and furious movie has a whole sequence where Jason Mamoa (bad guy) has a pamper session surrounded by dead bodies while he paints his nails and wears a purple fluffy robe. The very old homophobic signification of using a robe to indicate male femininity, therefore queerness and therefore deviancy is so clear in that movie that I was kinda shocked to see it in one made so recently.

Of course I'm not saying that Dale wearing a robe is homophobic. It's not, but it does align with a very rich history of using snazzy dressing gowns to signify being a bachelor, being wealthy and being queer. All things Dale is grappling with in season 3 and I really enjoyed it as a detail, as you can see. Thanks for asking 🥰

[musewrangler]

Unhinged ranting on Ladyhawke

No one---

Me---all right then, here's my apologetic for why Ladyhawke is the best fantasy movie and you need to go watch it.

I will say at the outset that I watched this first when I was ten and so at that age, I freely admit that we can be shaped by truly awful media. We get happy and nostalgic feelings about things from that time. And some of those things pass the test into adulthood and others don't.

But this film still passes with flying colors decades later.

The first reason---and the one I find the most important---is the characters. They utterly nailed not only the wonderful classic tropes, but also the people to play them. Rutger Hauer as our courageous and tragic knight. Michelle Pfeiffer as the stunningly beautiful woman he loves and who is just as keen to save him as he is to save her. Matthew Broderick as the comic relief with heart. Leo McKern as the drunk monk who figures out how to help them. John Wood as the fantastically EVIL bishop. I could go on. But they all play their parts by COMMITTING to the bit and it is splendid.

The second reason---the wonderful story. The plot surrounds two lovers---the Captain of the Guard and the lovely young woman who comes to Aquila for a visit----who are cursed by the evil bishop who is jealous. Here's our fantasy element. He cursed them to be 'eternally together, but always apart'. By day, he is human and she is the hawk. By night, he is the wolf and she is the human. I shall not spoil things from here, but you can guess that the dilemma is how to break this curse.

The setting is Italy and you can tell that the folks who filmed here knew how to find beauty. I LOVE the shots with the hawk flying and the different bits of countryside and wonderful old ruins. We're supposed to be somewhere loosely in the 13 or 14th century and it works.

The one objection that some could make is that the soundtrack features too much of the Eighties acoustic keyboard. And I hear this. On the other hand, A Knight's Tale went for classic rock and we enjoyed that. I can forgive the acoustic bits for the tear jerkingly marvelous music they composed for the love theme and anytime the hawk is soaring. It is seared into my soul and I can picture the knight and the lady so clearly.

And friends---the YEARNING. Oh man. Rutger and Michelle as Etienne and Isabeau are the heart and soul of this. When they speak of each other...when they strive to save each other oh man the suffering. The passion. I CANNOT. I have never seen another fantasy story romance like this one. None compares.

And finally---the climactic scene. Friends. It is---chef's kiss. I want to rhapsodize about it. But that gives away too much. I will merely say that once again--the creative minds behind this were on point with the setting they chose and the way they presented everything. Rutger Hauer acted his heart out and I adore him.

So if you're in need for a truly satisfying love story set in this fantasy world, I wish I could send you a personal copy of this film. Instead, I'm sure you can find it. If you do, please tell me what you thought. If you really hated it though, can I ask you not? It's one of my most beloved and you know how vulnerable that makes one. ;D

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I'm listening to the soundtrack as I write something else and had to detour to recommend this movie to you all.

[freedelusionshere]

People can easily use each other in all kinds of relationships, that’s why I think it’s so important to have relationships established on knowing and caring for people and not seeing them as disposable.

Hook-up culture is not that. I really don’t think it’s accurate to say Carmy used Claire and not that they used each other, but also one person has experience with hook-up culture and it’s not Carmy, and they make sure to show this is what Claire and her friend group typically do.

They reverse the gender tropes a lot on this show and definitely did around this relationship, and Carmy wasn’t even going to tell Claire what he said in the walk-in. She was in a place she wasn’t supposed to be and accidentally overheard it.

She walked away. She didn’t try to work it out or talk about it. And it was about him not her. He never blamed it on her at any point. Which she lies about later to Tiff. It wouldn’t feel good to hear that for anyone, but he didn’t know she was there and he wasn’t saying it to hurt her.

There’s also no indication he ever felt safe enough with Claire to have that deep of a convo, all their convos are depicted as vapid and talking around their real feelings for a reason. Claire was using Carmy as well. She knew he had anxiety, she noticed his heart racing. She is a medical professional.

Just because you have sex with someone or call them a “girlfriend” or whatever, doesn’t equal intimacy or a bond of any kind. Which, Carmy thinks that word sounds awful, but it doesn’t come up very often that maybe he doesn’t care for the gendered dynamics of that?

He doesn’t say it outright, but the whole thing with him dating Claire is that it’s what Mikey and his family thought was good for him, and Mikey (and Richie and Fake’s) opinions of Claire are extremely sexist. Notice how Carmy gets grossed out by Richie calling Syd “sweetheart” or Nat pretending to be a helpless little girl to manipulate Cicero. He literally calls it “gross”.

Anyway, just me ranting about this for the millionth time but Carmy can apologize to Claire for using her because he didn’t know what he actually wanted when she was just hooking up with him for fun and thrills (she tells us that’s what she’s into) and then it didn’t go the way she wanted and got too inconvenient so she walked.

Carmy wants intimacy and emotional safety, and the show has gone to great pains to show he gets that from Syd, in contrast to anyone associated with his past. What Syd is getting in return needs to be answered now from her POV, but that contrast is the reason Carmy and Claire don’t work. Not because he made the mistake of calling her his girlfriend in order to not be seen as a jerk by Syd and not because they had sex (big deal TBH), and not he had a meltdown and admitted his real feelings to Tina.

[deviousdevilx]

I'm gonna TRY

Here it goes!

"Terry?"

He knows that voice. Damn it. Terry didn't want anyone to see him in this state, unsteady, upset, unbalanced. Of course the person he wanted to see him the least like this now stood before him.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he snaps.

He only needed a minute more to collect himself...

Daniel didn't expect to find Terry in the public washrooms, and he certainly didn't expect to find him in this state.

Terry turns away from Daniel and walks over to the sink, choosing to ignore Daniel. Maybe that was a sign for Daniel to leave, leave Terry to handle whatever he was dealing with. It wasn't nerves that's for sure. This was Terry Silver.

Then he recalls their conversation, Johnny saying Terry was sick, and Terry replying it was an understatement. At that moment, Daniel didn't know what to believe. Terry was a liar, a manipulator. Maybe he wasn't lying or exaggerating. Maybe he was really sick.

"You are really sick aren't you?" Daniel asks, breaking the long awkward silence.

He walks over to where Terry stands, he's adjusting his suit in front of the mirror.

"Does it matter?" Terry answers in a hard cold tone.

Daniel opens his mouth but can't find the right words.

This was his enemy, a man who tormented him, then reappeared thirty-five years later and continued terrorizing him. A man a young Daniel had fallen in love with, who broke his heart. A secret he kept well hidden from everyone.

He doubts that even Terry realized the depths of harm in inflicted on Daniel. A deep wound that took ages to heal, only to be ripped back open the moment Terry stepped into the garden. And now he was sick? That could mean a lot of things

It's Terry who continues speaking not letting Daniel answer the question, "If I win today, the victory will be short lived if that's any consolation. I was told I only had a few months to live. So you should know that I will be out of your life for good very soon."

Wait what? Daniel's eyes widen in shock.

"You're terminal?"

"That's right Danny boy," Terry turns away from the mirror, facing Daniel.

He looks thin, wane, defeated. Gone is the smugness, the arrogance. Even that night he showed up the Daniel's home. There was something very off that Daniel could not put words too. Now he understood. Now he believed.

"You should have said so that night."

Terry scoffs, "I told you I don't want or need your sympathy."

"I'm not..."

He wanted Terry gone he did, or he thought he did, but this felt. Too much. Too final. Everyone dies though in the end. Daniel isn't sure how he feels or what he should feel.

"So this tournament, you wanting to win, needing to win, is because this will be it for you, no more chances."

Terry did say as much that night in Daniel's home. Daniel didn't care, or believe the older man, unable to believe him. Not wanting too, and well now he did. There was no way he was lying about this.

"Yes."

Terry is suddenly standing directly in front of Daniel, which forces Daniel to look up.

"I hope it was worth it. All of this," Daniel replies angrily.

The anger is unexpected. This man was dying, and Daniel found himself feeling so angry, so furious!

"It will be once I win."

"And then what? You'll just go away? Die someplace tropical or in one of your mansions? Just gone!"

"Why are you angry Danny boy?"

He doesn't know why, only that's how he feels. Angry.

"It's an easy way out."

Terry looks a bit taken a back.

"I assure you I would rather not die."

"You left me for 35 years, come back into my life with a shitty half-ass apology, and take over the Valley, almost ruin my marriage, and now you're just gonna die? That's not fair! You can't walk back in then leave again!"

Daniel is fuming, and unable to look directly at Terry as he rants, but finally, chest heaving, eyes teary, he glances up. He expects Terry to be some type of pissed off. Instead he finds Terry with tears is his eyes.

"I'm sorry Daniel, for all of it."

"Yeah well me too."

Daniel starts to walk away, but finds his arm pulled back.

"Don't go just yet, please."

Daniel lets himself be stopped.

Terry pulls him closer, "You know, you're the only one I feel worthy to be my adversary, worthy of my attention, I wanted to win you over, but my pride kept getting in the way. My devotion to Kreese, misguided as it was was holding me down. I thought once he was gone, I could find a way to get you on my side, but you took matters into your own hands."

"With good reason," Daniel reminds him.

"I admit you schemes against me, as upsetting to me as they were, were impressive. I liked how I got under your skin. It confirmed to me you still felt something for me. If you had been indifferent, well." He doesn't finish that thought, "that night when you told me you were done, that your surrendered."

Daniel winces thinking about that night, that fight. Terry had been his playful menacing self, then it turned so ugly, so quickly. The fury in Terry's eyes...

"I'm sorry, I lost control. You have no idea how you make me feel do you?"

How he makes Terry feel? Daniel's mind is a whirlwind of emotions, most confusing, some frightening. No, no way.

"How do I make you feel?" Daniel asks anxiously.

"Like I am navigating a stormy sea and I see the blue clear sky in the horizon, and I try to get there but I can't. You are so close but always out of reach and it makes me crazy."

Oh, Daniel swallows, feeling his mouth get very dry.

Daniel wants to say something, but someone opens the bathroom door.

"Sensei Daniel the tournament is gonna start soon!"

It's one of his students.

Daniel looks back up at Terry, who merely smiles sadly down at him.

"We can't keep the kids waiting Mr. LaRusso."

Terry lets go of his arm, and walks away.

Feeling unbalanced, a bit dizzy, Daniel waves the student off who looks a tad concerned catching his sensei with the man who everyone knew was the bad guy.

"Is everything okay?"

"It's fine let's go."

It is far from fine. That can't be the end of their conversation. There was so much still left unsaid.

Daniel can't help but look across the mat, towards Terry who meets his gaze with his own. He looks ashamed, and breaks eye contact to focus on his student.

Focus on the match, ignore Terry, deal with it later, Daniel tells himself.

He wants to throw up, he wants to scream but Robby needs him here, focused.

As he gives Robby a pep talk, he glances over towards Terry, Sensei Wolf, and Axel. Terry is in a very heated argument with his co-sensei who looks very angry. Furious in fact. He can't quite hear what's being said, but Terry pulls the very tall young man aside and whispers something to him.

Oh no. Not again.

"Robby you gotta be careful, they aren't above using dirty tricks and moves to win, understood? He will try something on you, do not let him get his chance got it?"

"Yes sensei."

Looking over towards Terry and Axel, Axel who was looking very tense and apprehensive, looks...relieved? Confused, Daniel looks at Terry hoping the man notices him. He does, and gives Daniel a quick bow.

Sensei Wolf looks unhinged, face contorted in rage.

The fight is so close, Axel getting a point, then Robby. In the end Axel wins, but narrowly.

It was miraculously a clean fight. Even with the win Sensei Wolf stomps over to Terry, saying something to the older man before departing, Terry shakes his head and shrugs.

Robby is pleased with his match, even though he lost.

"You did your best, I'm proud of you," Daniel says, giving the boy a quick hug before his teammates and friends rush him away.

Daniel rallies his team but he knows Miyagi-Do has no chance of defeating the Iron Dragons. Terry will have his final win.

"Mr. LaRusso."

Daniel turns to find Terry behind him.

"Good fight." Daniel says awkwardly.

"I'd like us to have dinner tonight."

Daniel nods, "Okay."

He could grant Terry one small concession. Maybe they could finally find some closure.

Somebody PLEASE write a fic where Daniel accidentally walks in here