#i’ve been working so hard to not be ugly and weird to not be looked down on and pitied or ignored outright

[corpus-incorporated]

it’s so hard Knowing that you’re hot with a capital fucking K and knowing with that same certainty that you are ugly and undesirable and being unable to reconcile these superpositioned beliefs

[pparacxosm]

hunger is ugly

(blue-eyed son 3 !! which, as any third and final installation of a franchise ((back to the future and spiderman withstanding !!!)), is obviously the best one; i’m only half kidding; homeless era!patrick zweig x jaded businesswoman!reader; see parts one and two; tw eggnog; tw coworkers; cw smut but nothing crazy; if you’re seeking closure don’t hold your breath; i’m sick of these two; they clearly don’t know what they want; and i refuse to take blame; tw fitted sheets; tw cocaine talk)

He once told you he couldn’t wear a suit. I couldn’t, he’d said, I’d look ridiculous in a suit. But he cleans up quite nicely, actually.

In fact, he looks good, and you’re not above admitting that. He looks better, actually. Healthier. And he looks handsome in his casual blazer and charcoal linen slacks. Oh God, are you gonna look frumpy beside him?

“I’ve always wanted to go to an office Christmas party,” he says.

You’re on the floor before him, straddling your full length mirror, and all your tumbledown, halfway gutted makeup products are strewn wildly about you.

Your bed, behind you, is a skeleton state, too. When he’d come over, he’d nearly laughed at the fact that you’ve apparently been so busy, your clean bedding is still sitting in a laundry hamper in the corner of the room, and you’ve been sleeping in the inserts on a bare mattress for who knows how long.

Patrick doesn’t pass judgment on the mess in your apartment. He still feels he owes you in some weird, kiss-the-hand-that-fed-you sort of way.

You’re not a slob. You always look put together when you leave the house. You’ve just had to focus on work. You can’t stumble at the finish line. Or… the glass ceiling. Or the penultimate rung on the corporate ladder. Whatever. If you can successfully execute this next product launch, who knows what other doors might open for you. Probably doors in buildings very similar to the one you’re already working in. But that’s nothing to sneeze at. Every morning, you see your reflection in those immaculate windows.

So anyway, it shouldn’t matter. Things just get away from you sometimes.

Patrick’s standing above you pensively reflecting how many undone buttons says Corporate Shindig Eyecandy (Please Give My Date That Promotion) as opposed to Reformed Tennis Heartthrob. His shins are sort of bracketing your hips.

“Well, it’s half an office Christmas party, and half—like—a congratulatory… thing. For Deirdre’s successful proposal,” you murmur, leaning forward, tugging your temple to flatten your eyelid and flick on your liner.

“Aw, what?” he frowns, “Deirdre? We fucking hate Deirdre.”

You laugh. You try not to delude yourself, not to let these moments exist in some flowery vacuum in the eye of your mind, not to ask him to fix your bedding for you. But it’s hard.

Whoever let Sam replace the DJ halfway through the party was either a genius anarchist or too drunk to care.

You know it’s probably the latter. You down the cognacheavy eggnog from your glass and make a disgruntled face. You don’t know what you expected. Shania Twain is belting from the speakers while Sam wiggles his headphones in a dumb, awkward dance.

He’s pretty funny, all things considered, but you’d still like nothing better than to whack him up the head with an ink cartridge.

One of the blousy interns from your department is haplessly flirting with Patrick, pretending he bumped into her and made her plash some eggnog on herself, but she’s trying to be selfaware about it.

“Oh gosh, isn’t this such a cliché: the boss’ plus one wiping a dairybased drink from the subordinate’s—… oh no, I know she’s not technically my boss, but she’s sort of my senior within the company, like on the general corporate ladder, argh, I know, I hate it!”

She could’ve said superior, you think, instead of senior.

You’re feeling too pissy to go and save him from that failed interaction. You turn your back to the crowd and look out of the glossy black windows. That chorus keeps stomping its pointed heels over your fragile nerves.

The best thing about being a woman is the prerogative to have a little fun!

Do you have a little fun? Are you a Good Time? You have to laugh. It’s just a stupid song. But you need the validation.

That’s why Patrick picks the wrong moment to come and talk to you.

“Hey, this chick is chasing me with a napkin around the room.”

You snort. “Not my problem.”

Patrick leans against the buffet, delivering a wry salute when Sam points at him from the DJ booth and winks. “That guy’s something,” Patrick chuckles, “He asked me to sign his dick.”

“Did you?”

Patrick hums like he’s ambivalent and places a large hand on the small of your back. “Would that be good for you, if I did?”

“I’m fun, right?”

You swirl the remains of eggnog in your glass. You ask the question like he’s been holding out some big secret from you.

Patrick blinks. He scoffs in disbelief, but also smirks pointedly at your glass. “You’re asking me?”

You stare at him through the briar lace of your eyelashes. Everyone who’s met him today has had their own lashes drenched in laughter. You hadn’t realised it first. You’d figured those were mutually exclusive things, downandout charm and the breathing room of comfortable success. But no. He’s charming, anyway. It’s just that he’s not haggling for scraps of generosity anymore so much as he’s lapping at the fleeting dregs of likability. And you hate that you notice that, and you hate that you notice him, that you know him, in a sense. Because what are you supposed to do about it?

“Everybody loves you. Just… be objective.”

Patrick still laughs. He rubs his stubble. He should’ve shaved this morning. He thought he was doing something for you, something nice, by coming with you to this thing and wooing everybody’s pants a little tighter, but maybe he’d missed the mark. “You know I can’t be objective.”

“Why not?” You sound petulant, leaning angrily against the buffet. You’re old enough to know what he’s saying, of course. He’s being nice. He’s telling you he thinks you’re fun, that the rest shouldn’t matter, but then he doesn’t need anything. Even when he had nothing. So he wouldn’t get it. He wouldn’t notice.

Patrick tilts his head and narrows his eyes in that way he does when he’s vivisecting you, then clears his throat. “You’re drunk.” He laughs again, a little gratuitous. Then, after a while, “I have fun with you. You’re engaging.”

“Engaging?” you echo, frowning. “Seriously? What am I, an essay?”

“No, I just— Jesus, what do you want me to say?”

You clench your jaw. Okay, you are drunk and you’re at this office party from hell and a hard rain’s a-gonna fall, so goddamn it, he will call you fun.

So you get right into his face. You’re good at that, even if you barely reach his shoulder. “Tell me I’m fun, because I am, and you think I am.”

You try to swat his hand away, but his palm stays put, a hot magnet just above your tailbone, and he doesn’t even look like he’s doing it on purpose. It’s just that he feels an emptiness in his stomach, depressing but also thrilling. Like taking a hit. Like you’re a little bag of white powder. Beyond the dark windows it starts to snow. He used to do a bit of coke, when everything around him dropped dead and started to rot, and he couldn’t stomach the smell. He doesn’t seem like the poster kid for moderation, but the coke was good, and he didn’t let it be any more than that. In fact, at times, the coke was great. The coke was fun. But he couldn’t live with the coke. You understand? He couldn’t settle down in New England and raise a cat with the coke.

“I don’t think I can win with you,” he murmurs, and, for his part, he at least sounds like he needs to change that.

It’s supposed to be a comfort fuck—and you call it fuck in your head dismissively—but it’s too raw and unknown. You’ve spent so much time in this questionable relationship with existence in his life. In and out. You thought you’d learned him, or at least learned the both of you, but his hands on you, his mouth on you—it’s frightening, finite, foreign. Somehow divorced from this man who, for all his egofueled casual mania, doles out intimacy like free samples.

This is what it feels like to watch him unravel, but it’s not just beggar’s desperation. No, he’s making room for someone else beside him in a way he hasn’t in a long time.

He keeps touching every part of you, frantically, trying to feel all of you, sinking his head between your thighs with a groan of relief, immersing himself in another body. But not just any body, because he keeps mouthing your name. As if to remind you that he is here, and you let him in. Because it matters that it’s you, that someone who knows him is letting him in. He’s humming to himself as you come against his fingers and mouth.

... hunger is ugly... souls are forgotten... I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it...

You like his full weight on you, sinking you into your undressed mattress, trapping you, suffocating you under his bottomless gloom. He has one hand on your thigh. He lifts it at an uncomfortable angle, sinking his cock deeper into you, making it ache. How does he know you like that, anyway? He doesn’t. He noticed.

You want to resent what he’s doing here, which is trying to ‘win with you’. Because he’s been on a winning streak, and you’re not about to spoil that.

And these demeaning, mechanical thoughts probably aren’t reflective of his inner monologue at the moment, but it’s easier to believe he doesn’t respect you than to contend with this whole thing.

You want to tell him, you don’t know what I like, but he starts talking about this tournament. There’s a match in Boston, for real this time. You’re having trouble paying attention.

You fall asleep with him still inside you, head on your chest, and you, crushed comfortably by his weight.  

You wake up before him. He must have rolled off you in the middle of the night. He’s sleeping next to you, one hand stretched towards you, head on the pillow at a strange angle.

You turn away quickly.

You sit on the edge of the bed, breathing in and out, staring at the heap of his cocktail wear on the floor. You feel sore and stupefied. You feel cramps in your muscles. You feel weak in the best and worst way possible. You keep breathing in and out, hoping you’re keeping quiet.

But he wakes up anyway.

You can feel his gentle eyes on the slightly hunched line of your back.

“Hey.”

“Morning,” you mumble, throat dry. Why does it have to be morning? Why does it always have to be morning?

“Come back here,” he says, as if it weren’t morning.

You shake your head softly.

His silence is edifying. It goes on for too long.

“You’re not gonna stay, are you?” you ask, serious and formal, gripping the edge of the mattress. You clench your jaw, body taut.

You can hear him swallow, throat working to get the syllables out.

“I’m not, like… leaving you.”

You close your eyes.

“No, I mean—yeah,” you chuckle miserably. “You’re probably doing the right thing. The best thing for you.”

You feel the tears slide out one by one, and your shoulders shake slightly.

“Please don’t cry.” He’s using that soft and primordially tentative voice he uses with your cat. “I’m not worth it.”

You look over your shoulder at him. “Then why is it so fucking hard to watch you go?”

It’s only recently you’ve started getting angry with him. You used to get grudgingly amused, perhaps vaguely reproachful, but now his stupid face just makes you livid.

His eyes tremble pensively. “I don’t know. But that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You turn your head away, rolling and wiping your eyes at the same time. “I just don’t see how it could work.”

And there’s a door he could open for you. There’s something he could say at this juncture to reassure you, momentarily, that it could. But he can’t bring himself to lie, because he cares about you too much to take a bump of that powder.

He hangs his head and looks at the beautiful line of your back, memorising it.

Then he gets up.

“I’m gonna make coffee, then we can get that fucking fitted sheet on, alright?”

You nod absently. You don’t turn to look at him as he puts on his clothes.

He comes up to you before he leaves. He runs his finger under your chin and lifts it up. There’s a kitten scratch on his cuticle.

You could come watch the match.

But he doesn’t say that. You haven’t seen him play since New Rochelle. “I’ll fill the demon’s bowl. I think she’s starting to like me.”

You laugh, wiping more tears.

Patrick takes that hand, your hand, wet with tears, and brings it to his mouth. He kisses and licks the salt away. He keeps it there for a moment longer than he should. You gently pull away.

You only exhale when he’s gone.

Toby slinks out from behind your mirror, swishing her tail back and forth in contempt.

You narrow your eyes. “Oh, shut up,” you whisper.

[velaenaa]

strawberry chocolate parfait \ nanami kento x reader (ch.1)

word count: 1.1k tags: slight slow burn, pining, romance, fluff, added as i go! setting: you are a worker at a bakery that nanami kento frequents ♡ authors note: hello ^_^ i hope you are doing wonderful! this is my first time writing for nanami. pls enjoy! chapter: 1/? <next>

Chapter 1 - Vanilla Cake

‘Does this guy need help….?’

‘He’s staring real hard at the bread…. Omg- is it ugly? Aw hell- I made that this morning…’ 

Your thoughts were cut off by the towering figure of a man, with two loaves of baguette in one hand and one container of cake, that happened to be your favorites, in the other. You smile up at him, “Will this be everything?” He gives a stiff nod, locking his eyes with yours, then you giggled; “Then.. I guess I'll bag-uette up for you..” 

No? No reaction..Damn, tough crowd.. 

He thanks you and you bid him farewell and to come back soon. You could’ve sworn he almost smiled… maybe that was a look of irritation..?

After he leaves eyesight, You make haste by sitting down behind the counter, face flushed with embarrassment and agony. It made you cringe. Why would you say that? Your coworker giggled at you, making sure to add salt to the wound, “You tried.. That’s all it matters.” she gives you a head pat and continues,  “He’s a regular here. He’s probably gonna come back in another couple of hours on his way home or something.”

“Then how come I’ve not seen him before?”

“Dunno.. He’s been away for a couple months now.” 

“What’s his name?”

“You should ask when he comes back.”

“Isn’t that weird?”

“Oh but asking some other random person, who doesn’t know him at all, by the way, isn’t weird?”

She has a point.

You looked down at your phone and idly texted your friend Nobara about your day and fashion related topics. 

You met when Nobara came down to the bakery to get some pastries for her boyfriend. You hit it off right away due to shared interests, albeit you being 7 years older. Nobara enjoyed having an older sister with an affinity for style, love for shopping, and interest in all the cool girl stuff that Maki wouldn’t normally talk to her about. 

Right now you two are discussing weekend plans. Nobara and her boyfriend Yuji, along with Megumi, and their teacher Gojo were going to a karaoke room cause it had been a while since Gojo had gone out with his students. He was stuck on oversea assignments for the past couple of weeks and he dearly misses them, or so he says. As always, you had been invited and of course you said yes! 

You are very fond of the kids and Gojo. The 3 of them reminded you of your siblings back home, and well- Gojo is Gojo. Plus, if you had declined, Gojo would pester you non-stop. 

-

After a mini rush, you sit  down, tired, ready to bite down into your sandwich, when on queue, the door swings open, revealing the tall blonde man, taking his glasses off as his eyes pierce you again. You wave at him and he just nods. You get a bag ready as the man collects another slice of the same cake he had bought earlier. He also got another dessert, this time, a small vanilla custard tart w/ fruits on top, made by yours truly. He comes up to the counter, and you stiffen up  in shyness, “Is this everything for you?”

The man looked tired, but he let out a soft, yet stern ‘yes.’

As you rang up his order you looked back up to him, your lips curling into a small grin, “How was work?” This caught them both off guard, “Oh- I didn’t- I didn’t mean to assume-” I mean.. Unless this guy enjoys walking around in a whole business suit for funsies.

He actually lets out a chuckle, “It’s okay. It was a busy day.” 

You both stayed silent for a second before he asked in return, “How was your day, miss?” This made you feel warm and your smile only got bigger, “It was wonderful! I got to serve a lot of customers. They bought their kids in. It was so fun.”

‘And cause you came into the shop twice.’

“Ah sorry.. I’m trailing. I didn’t mean to ramble- you must be dying to get home.”

‘No, I could get used to listening to you.’  is what he wanted to say;

Instead he lets out a relieved sigh, “It’s alright. I’m glad you had a good day today.” This caused your cheeks to tint red. Dying from embarrassment because you just knew that your coworkers were listening in, she redirects the topic, and points at the cake, “Do you like those?” He nods again, “They’re the best I’ve ever had. Compliment the baker for me.” Oh your heart, you could hear it beating so hard from your chest. 

You do a mental fist pump before clapping your hands with glee, “Oh I’m so glad you liked them!” You go around the counter and grab another slice just for him. You stared up at him in absolute awe, because behind the counter was elevated by at least a foot. 

This man was tall, as hell. 

He just looks down at you eyeing your move. You push the cake towards him even harder, “This one is on the house!” He tilts his head in question. You double down and nod your head, affirming the choice. He grabs hold of the cake with one hand, “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

‘Ask for her name Nanami’ He repeats to himself in his head

“What is your name?” She beats him to the punch. 

‘Have you lost your touch?’-- “Nanami”

“I really like your name. It’s beautiful! My name is Y/N.”

‘Y/N, huh.. What a nice name..’

You give him his bag as he recollects his thoughts, “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve got to get going. Work” You shoot him one last smile before waving him off, “Thank you for coming! It was nice to meet you! Don’t work too hard!”

An hour goes by and it's time for the bakery to close for the night. You turn the lights off as the ladies load up the delivery car with food that wasn’t sold for the day so they could give it to the local kitchens and homeless shelters. You bid your coworkers farewell before hopping into your car and collecting yourself, before driving home.

After you get home you jump into bed, eager to text Nobara. 

[Txt]  Y/N - “I met such a cute guy today!”

A second later there’s an audio msg from her of Gojo;

[Voice Recording] “Wahh?! Y/N I wasn’t there today!”  in a whiny bit.

You laugh as Nobara actually sends a text;

[Txt] Nobara - “Tell me all about it when you come to karaoke… matter of fact, he should come!”

But you just met.. How are you going to pull that off… and will he even want to go is the better question… what if he thinks you’re weird … oh lord… so many overthinking possibilities.. Ok but what if he actually says yes?

[Txt] Y/N- “Are you sure?”

[Txt] Nobara  - “Yeah! Gojo-sensei is paying anyway.”

[butididntpourthewhiskeys]

CITYBOUND III

TW: sexual references 🚨

With her face in the sun, Taylor closes her eyes, feels the warm sensation hit her skin. A siren goes off, only a few feet away. The usual car honking that always reminds her exactly where she lives, also doesn’t stop. But it won’t end this peaceful moment. The first rays of sunshine in New York City this year. The first time she’s on the rooftop this year. Eleanor’s little voice from afar, playing by herself. In her winter puff jacket and with her sunglasses on her nose, she opens her eyes again now, looking at the blonde toddler sitting on the wooden patio floor only a few feet away from her. She’s playing with her dolls on top of the stairs leading to the covered pool. She seems to be in her own world, doesn’t even notice Taylor sitting on the sofa next to her, with a wool blanket on top of her. The fact that she so desperately soaks in these first sunrays of the year makes it more than obvious that she and Eleanor need to escape to LA for a few days. She can’t take winter no more. Time for spring to come.

“Honey, remember, no playing by the pool top.” Taylor says, using her hand to shield her sunglasses, making sure she can see clearly what the toddler in her green puffer jacket is doing. Eleanor just nods, two big tails on the little curly head. She’s playing with the two mini dolls that her mother got her a few weeks ago and she still seems to be obsessed with these little princesses. Taylor smiles. She sinks her head, fixes the big blanket over her legs and checks her phone. Just as she was about to reply to the dozens of unanswered messages in her inbox, she can hear the door from the end of the rooftop open. Within two seconds, Taylor sees two huge feet tucked into these ugly big Nike slippers. In his sweatpants he closes the door slowly, smiling through the sun right at her. He’s done with work. She’s glad. Two hours were two hours too long. Too long of him working, and her pretending as if she’s glad to have some time by herself. 

“Wow, this is nice.” he says as he slowly makes his way towards her. With an approving smile, Travis takes a look around the luxurious rooftop. Hard to believe that this peaceful outdoor space is right in the heart of Manhattan. 

“Yeah.” she just says, her eyes still focused on the tall man, slowly making his way towards her. He lets himself fall down right next to her on the outdoor couch. She smiles at him through her sunglasses. 

“How was it?” 

“Good.” he smiles at her, his hand already on her thigh again, right above the blanket that’s been keeping her warm out here. “Jason says hi.” 

She smiles, nods. She wonders what his brother thinks about all this. She knows that Travis is very independant from anyone’s opinions. It’s one of the things she admires about him. She knows he won’t get influenced by anyone else’s opinion about what they’re doing, who she is or whether this really is a good idea. But she still wonders what his family thinks. The fact that he’s just spending the week here, at her apartment. With her and her child. A weird thought that brings up some anxiety the more she thinks about it.

“Thanks.” she says, and he can feel that she’s insecure of how to react suddenly. 

“I didn’t.. I didn’t tell him much. He knows I’ve been seeing you, but nothing more.” he says, has clearly just read her mind again. She nods. It’s okay. This answer is something she can live with. 

“I know.” she says quietly, moves her cold hand on top of his. Her eyes looking for Eleanor once more. Travis just looks at the blonde woman next to him, smiles. He moves his thumb a little up and down, gently caressing her small and soft hand that’s on his. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks then, and Taylor looks back at him. She sighs, leans back on the comfortable sofa that the two are sitting on, just facing the sun. He still can’t believe how nice and quiet it is here, in the middle of a rooftop in this big city jungle. 

“Crappy, to be honest. But it’s okay. I’m used to it. Anytime she gets something, I get it two days later. Just… mom life.” she says, almost laughing at the end of her sentence. He nods. “I feel bad though because I told you a million times that you’re getting it next. And..” 

“And I told you a million times that I don’t care.” he interrupts her gently, not raising his voice. Instead, his hand just keeps on caressing hers and it does something to her that she can’t quite explain. She feels safe. She feels seen.

“You’re stubborn, has anyone ever told you that before?” 

He laughs at her statement, throwing his head back like a little kid for a second. She can’t help but smile at him, too. She loves it when he laughs like this. She loves how easy everything is with him. There’s no darkness when they’re together. The black dog that always follows her around just disappears. This familiar blue feeling of anxiety on her chest dissolves slowly. He’s pure sunshine, and she doesn’t know he is aware. 

“Touché.” he just says. She smiles. She’s got no arguments left. 

“Mommy, Travy. Look.” 

The two are suddenly pulled out of their thoughts. With her little pink converse shoes, Eleanor comes running towards the two of them. Travis can’t help but laugh at her bouncy pigtails. With her finger up in the air she stops right in front of him, holding the little ladybug right into his face. 

“Honey, don’t.. don’t push it in Travis’s eye, please. Careful.” Taylor tries to stop her toddler, but it only makes the man next to her laugh. With his big hands, he gently holds on to the little hand, looks at it in awe, just like Eleanor did before. 

“Wow, where did you find this little beauty?” he asks Eleanor. Her eyes are lid up. Taylor loves it. She loves seeing the world through Eleanor’s eyes. She loves that for this little girl, life is still as magical as it can get. 

“It.. it was just flying on my hand. Just like that.” she says, giggles in excitement that this little animal chose her for a visit on this sunny afternoon. 

“Want me to show you a trick?” Travis asks, and Eleanor nods. Taylor watches the interaction and smiles. With his huge fingers, he shows the little girl how to get the ladybug to crawl from her one hand to the other. Eleanor giggles, and Travis smiles at her when she does it herself for the first time. 

“Now, you have to make a wish. Close your eyes.” 

With a smile on the little face, she closes her eyes. Her small hands still gently in Travis’s. Taylor’s heart feels like bursting for a second. 

“You got one?” 

“Mhmhm.” 

“Now blow it away. One, two…” 

Eleanor blows the ladybug away, jumps up and down for a minute out of excitement. Travis laughs at the little girl’s excitement, still holding both her hands in his. 

“Great job, E. High five.” 

Eleanor claps her small hand against Travis’s. The smile on the little face is so evident to Taylor. Eleanor feels the sunshine, too. 

Not just the one coming from the New York skies today. 

She runs away, back to playing with her dolls at the end of the patio. Travis still chuckles, looking after her. His hand wandering to hers again. 

“She’s so adorable.” he laughs, then looks at Taylor. She smiles at him, and he knows exactly what her face is telling him right now. 

“I know, she is. Thanks for.. for being so sweet with her.” 

Travis doesn’t say anything for a moment. He appreciates her words. Truth is, he appreciates every moment of the past 48 hours. Being here, in her home, with Taylor and her daughter. Being able to just be together. Watching her take care of her child. Taking care of her. Lots of hugs to give and witness. Lots of kisses in this house. Lots of laughs. He hasn’t felt this happy and secure in a while and he hopes that this bubble won’t burst anytime soon. He knows it’s outrageous for him to have cancelled a majority of his off season plans for this week, just to spend time here. It’s unlike him to give up work (and play) commitments just to be with a woman. But this time, it’s different. It feels more like a deep need to be here with her now. Not like a choice. He knows, he needs to find the right words soon. But for now, it’s enough to turn off his mind for a bit. Enjoy a few more hours of heaven with Taylor. 

“Thanks for introducing me to her.” he replies, his face moving closer to hers. He gently kisses her cheek, his beard scratching her slightly. She looks back at him, nods then. Her forehead leans gently against his chin, her small hand caresses his beard for a moment. He steals her forehead a tiny kiss. 

“Means a lot, Tay.” he adds. She nods. He knows it still makes her feel incredibly vulnerable to have let him enter her and Eleanor’s life. And he can only fathom why. It must have been a tough fight for her to take back her own life after separating from Eleanor’s dad. And he knows she won’t let anyone hurt her daughter ever again. But he just wishes she’d know that he will never hurt either of the two. 

She doesn’t reply to him, instead lets her head gently fall onto his shoulder. His arm wanders around her and he loves holding her like this. The sun facing them. It’s peaceful here. It’s peaceful between them. He loves to feel this shift since the other night. Since the night she opened up, and allowed him to get close.

Closer than ever before.

___

With the hood of his jacket pulled deep into his face, he enters her building. It’s gotten dark outside now, and the sunny afternoon has turned into an icy, freezing night. Brandon opens the big doors for him, then enters the code to operate the elevator for him, and a few seconds later he steps inside. The doors close, and he can finally pull down the hood covering him. He can breathe again. None of the paparazzi outside have noticed him. 

“Quiet evening, man?” he asks the security guard, who politely smiles back. 

“Yeah, all good. Did some shopping?” 

Travis smiles and nods, the wine he got for himself and Taylor securely wrapped in a brown bag in his hands. 

“Yup. Got her some snacks. Keeping both of’em happy.” he jokes.

Brandon smiles. The interaction ends once the elevator door opens again. Travis steps outside, uses the key she gave him to enter the penthouse. Brandon says his goodbye, wishing him a nice evening and Travis closes her door. In an instant, her smell creeps back into his nose, into his lungs, into his… heart. It’s the same smell as her hair, when he kisses her head gently. The same smell as all her clothes, and the bed he slept in for a few nights now. He feels this indescribable feeling of happiness again, just by smelling her. He knows he’s far beyond the stage of falling for her. Her home feels like home to him, and every day - it just keeps getting worse. 

Travis takes off his jacket, gently throws it over the chair in the living room. He steps into the generous, open kitchen, and carefully places the bags of food and wine on the countertop. He knows Taylor struggled to get Eleanor to sleep tonight. So the last thing he wants to do is wake up the small girl. He takes the bottles of wine from the brown bag, finally finds free space in the wine cabinet on the other side of the kitchen.

“Hi.” he hears a familiar voice coming from the stairs then. He turns to her, closes the wine cabinet. She smiles, the same make up free face as earlier, before he left to go to the grocery store on Greenwich Street that she loves so much. She’s in her comfy clothes from before, her bangs a bit messed up from Eleanor’s pillow. 

“Is she out?” he asks, and Taylor nods, makes her way up to him. He immediately opens his arms, pulls her in for a tight hug. Her face pressed into his shoulder, nothing but her bangs looking out. She breathes him in. 

“Yeah finally.” she sighs, “Why do you smell so good.” 

Travis chuckles, moving his head in her tight hug to kiss her soft cheek again. 

“You smell so much better.” 

She lets go of him, both her hands wandering to his face. She smiles, then comes closer to kiss him gently. 

“I got you some snacks. And wine. And..” 

“Thanks so much. I promise, I will make a batch of cookies later tonight. I haven’t forgotten it. And I really want you to try these. Because, quite frankly, it’s a crime to stay at my house for more than 24 hours without trying my chai..” 

“Hey, I have a better idea.” he says then. She stops for a second, has already started reaching for flour, sugar and the chai tea in her cupboard right in front of her. She can feel his big hands wrap around her from behind, and it makes her smile.

“Yeah, and what is that?” she asks, his beard pressed into her neck, gently kissing her skin. 

“Come here.” he mumbles. One second passes and she feels his strong arms on her hips, lifting her up and placing her on the countertop behind her. She can’t help giggle a bit, loves that she’s towering him now. Her hands securely on his shoulders. He’s so strong and it never leaves her unimpressed. His nose touches hers for a second, and the smile on his face warms her heart in an instant. 

“Mister, if this is what I think it is, can I remind you…” 

“It’s not.” he assures her, kisses her again, can’t help but let out a laugh. She closes her eyes, both her arms wrapped around his neck. She feels herself letting go, a low sigh escaping her mouth. He pulls back after a few seconds, fixing a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“I wanna spoil you tonight.” he says then, and she smiles, biting her lower lip for a second. He’s so handsome in this moment, and his eyes could move a damn mountain. She can’t unsee these pictures of him as a little boy. He truly, still, is the goofy kid he told her he once was. And god, does she have love for this kid. Does she have love for this man in front of her, his huge hands being so gentle and kind.

“You spoil me every night.” she whispers against his lips, making him laugh a bit. 

“I don’t mean that kind of spoiling you.” he says, and she stops for a second. 

“Wait, you’re not talking about… sexy time?” 

“Sexy time?” he asks her with a laugh, can’t believe this is the way she describes their mindblowing, life-changing sex.

“I mean.. yeah it can be. But, I want to give you a massage. A proper one.” 

She can’t believe his words, almost feels insecure for a moment. It’s been a long time since someone she shared a bed with has made this kind of effort for her. She still remembers, early on with Joe, he would do small little things for her. But it was never like this. It was always accidental. Always unplanned, but sweet. But this, right here, with Travis, is different. She can’t believe he’s thought about this. Can’t believe he wants to spend the evening giving her a massage, has actively thought about what she would need right now. It’s a new level of attentiveness she’s foreign to when it comes to relationships. 

“Would you.. would you like that?” he asks then, has noticed her getting lost in her own thoughts. Within a second, she’s pulled back to reality and nods. Her mouth forming a smile.

“I would love that. I would absolutely love that. Thanks so much.” she murmurs, comes closer to him again and kisses him gently. He can tell she’s touched by this gesture, but that’s exactly what he wanted to achieve tonight. He wants to make her feel appreciated, respected, loved. He knows that after the past years with her ex, it’s still hard for her to let herself fall, enjoy the moment, let someone else take full control. But she deserves to be spoiled. She deserves to be treated this way. Always.

“Want to eat first? Or..” 

She shakes her head, and it makes him laugh. She just presses her face next to his, hugging him like a koala bear. He smiles, can feel her craving his proximity. Within a second, he has lifted her up from the countertop, slowly walking up the stairs with her hugging him this closely. He can hear her giggle into his sweater, carefully closes the door to her bedroom behind them. 

“Shall I leave the door open in case the little one wakes up?” he asks, carefully lets her down. She looks up at him smiling, then shakes her head. 

“No, all good. I still have the baby monitor app on my phone. If there’s movement in her room, my phone goes off.” 

He nods, his hand already on her cheek, stealing her forehead a last kiss before letting go again. She quickly turns on the little light next to her bed, then dims the room by turning off the main light. The mood has shifted, and it’s this romantic, low light she loves so much whenever she gets to be alone with him. This is her safe space. Him in her bedroom. The door closed. The world just staying outside. 

“I’ll quickly go pee, okay? Do you.. do you need anything?” 

“Bodylotion and a towel.” he says, and she smiles, not moving for a second. 

“What?” 

Standing in the door to the bathroom, looking at him, she just starts giggling. Her hand in front of her mouth now, the way she always does, whenever she gets shy for a second. 

“Nothing. I.. I just can’t believe you’re so serious about giving me a massage.” 

“Of course I am.” he says, has already taken off his sweatshirt and throws it over the little chair at the end of her bedroom. 

“Do you have a lighter?” 

“Yeah, top drawer by my bedside.” she says, can’t believe he’s putting so much effort into this. She just watches him reach for the lighter, then begins putting on the big Loewe candle at the end of her room. She can’t believe he’s got this romantic side to him. A side of him she doesn’t really know that well yet. He suddenly looks at her, a bit confused, not sure what she’s waiting for.

“Go pee, now. Come on.” 

“Okay, okay.” she mumbles, laughing to herself and closing the bathroom door gently. A few minutes later, the door opens again and she’s slowly stepping up to him. He has sat down on the side of her bed now, wearing nothing but his sweatpants and some socks. She stops right in front of him, looks around the room. She can’t believe he’s put on the candles. 

“Bodylotion?” 

“Oh, I forgot.” she mumbles, makes her way back into the bathroom again. When she comes back, she passes him her favorite shea body butter and a large white towel. A little out of place, she just stands there, watches him place the towel on top of her bedding. 

“Shall I..” 

“Come here, I’ll do that.” he smiles at her, and she trusts him. In her sweatpants and shirt, she crawls onto the bed, lands on her back and giggles as he reaches for the hem of her shirt, slowly pulling it over her head. She’s not wearing a bra yet he won’t break eye contact to her. A few seconds pass, and her pants have gone, too. She lays there for a moment, in the dim light, feeling a bit more vulnerable than usually. 

“You warm enough?” he asks her, notices immediately that she’s not a hundred percent comfortable. But she nods, just watches him closely. He puts a generous amount of body lotion into his hands, starts warming his hands together. 

“Shall I.. shall I take these off?” she asks him with a smirk in her face, and it makes him laugh.

“Yes.” 

“Oh, so it’s that kind of a massage?” 

“Babe..” 

“I’m teasing.” she giggles, gets rid of her thong and turns around. Laying flat on her stomach now, she feels his hands land on her back and it makes her shiver for a second. With her head turned to the side she closes her eyes, feels him fix her hair to the side, to ensure it’s out of the way. 

“Do you have a spot that pains you sometimes?” he asks her, almost a whisper. This is their world. Nobody is here to listen in, and she feels herself let go. Feels herself open up. 

“Yeah my.. my upper back and neck. I have horrible posture, so..” 

Within a second, Travis starts massaging the spot that always hurts her, and she melts into the pillow. She feels goosebumps form all over her body, and she can’t believe he’s so good at doing this. For a moment, she can’t really speak, can’t really think anymore. His warm, soft hands kned over her skin and she feels a deep relaxation take over her. 

“Oh my god..” she whispers then, and he smiles, giving his best to help her muscles relax properly. 

“Is that okay?” he asks her quietly, his hands moving up and down her back, again and again. 

“So good. This is.. so good.” he smiles, continues his work. He takes some more of the body lotion, moves with his hand movements down again to her lower back. He can feel her relax more and more underneath him. With her eyes closed, the talkative woman is suddenly dead quiet. 

“Baby?” 

He hears her whisper, almost feels like his entire body tingles for a second. She’s never called him that. She’s never called him anything other than the occasional ‘babe’ or ‘Trav’. For a second, he loosens his movements, looks up at her. She hasn’t moved, her eyes are still closed. He’s worried he might have hurt her. A hint of fear coming through. 

“You okay?” 

“I might fall asleep, is that.. are you mad, if I..” 

He laughs gently, keeps on working on her back. 

“You can fall asleep if you want to. This is for you to relax, stop worrying about falling asleep.” he says in the calmest way possible. Taylor doesn’t move. She feels herself drift off, can’t believe the amount of work and effort he puts into every single inch of her body. She can still feel him work on her lower back, now slightly moving to her hips. She can feel his talented hands move down every single muscle on her side. Not only are his movements the perfect amount of pressure and ease, but he also seems to have an extensive knowledge about the general muscle allocation. She’s never been massaged by someone she’s intimate with, didn’t know how good it can feel to let go off the tensions she carries in her upper thighs, and even her bottom. She doesn’t move, doesn’t know if she’s asleep yet or if she’s reached a new level of letting go. She can feel him work his way down her legs, massaging out all the tension from tour rehearsals in her calves. It’s the first time that his touch hurts a little, but it gets less and less with every round of kneading from his fingers. With every touch, the tension leaves her body. She lets out a soft sigh when he starts massaging her feet. She knew he’s good at foot massages, but she didn’t know his massaging skills extend to her other muscles, too. 

“You still awake?” 

“Mhmhm.” she mumbles. 

“Can you turn around for me?” 

She immediately moves in her bed, looks at the man smiling at her. He can’t help but laugh a little bit. She must have been so comfortable that she didn’t notice the pillow leaving a proper imprint on the right half of her face. She’s too cute. Before reaching for the body lotion again, he can’t help but get closer, steals her warm cheek a soft kiss. 

“I’m shocked about how talented you are, mister.” she mumbles then, relaxation in her voice. He smiles, reaches for her left hand, massages her arms up and down. She’s laying fully exposed in front of him. No blanket covering her. And she’s never felt so safe. Never before. 

“This is the best massage I’ve ever gotten.” she adds. Her eyes slowly closing. With his left hand he holds her arm upright, kneading all the tensions in her upper arm. 

“I’m glad.” he says, fully focused on his work. “I’ve gotten so many massages before that I really picked up where some of the muscles are located, and what type of movements help release tensions.” he explains, slowly lets go off her arm, and Taylor opens her eyes again. She feels his hands full of lotion gently massage her tummy now. Suddenly, her hand reaches for his arm. He looks at her. 

“Trav?” 

“Mhm?” 

“Kiss me.”

He smiles, comes closer to her and steals her lips a gentle kiss. He lets go after a few seconds, keeps on massaging her soft belly. She feels everything in her body tingling for a second, and she knows why. She knew this massage would eventually get to this point, but she didn’t think it would relax her this much. She then feels his hand move up her torso and within a second, her eyes are open. Wide open. He stops then, lowers his head and starts laughing. Within a second, the mood has changed. Drastically.

“I promise this.. this was not a boob grab, I just wanted to massage your cleavage. You do have muscles there. Believe me or not. And..” 

She giggles, too, holding onto his strong arm, clearly messing with him. 

“Please go ahead, I’m not stopping you.” she says with a giggle, her eyes not leaving his. With his soft hands he wanders up, starts massaging the muscles on the side of her neck. He’s so close to her face now, so close, and his hands keep on making the same moves. She looks deep into his eyes, feels him hit her deep muscle tissue then. She swallows. It hurts. It hurts to feel all the tension leave her body. She closes her eyes. 

“You’re so tense here.” he whispers. She nods. He keeps massaging her. “Feels like.. feels like you carried a lot of weight on your chest.” 

She has no idea why, but within a second, a tear streams down her face. Travis stops immediately, but her hand reaches for his. 

“Please keep.. keep going.” she sniffles. She doesn’t know why she gets so emotional all of the sudden. But whatever he was doing with her body right here, works. She feels all these stuck feelings leaving her body. So many emotions come back up. She’s so tired suddenly. She feels this pain so clearly. But she needs him to keep going. She needs him to knead it out until the very end. 

“Is it.. is it getting less?” he asks her, has noticed what she experienced just now. He’s learned from his physiotherapist that especially in the chest area, people tend to hold their tensions. Their grudges. Their undigested feelings. The last thing he wants to do is hurt the woman in front of him. But with every kneading movement of his fingers, he can feel her soften up. She has her eyes closed, nods. He won’t stop. After a few minutes, his movement gets slower. She opens her eyes again, looks into his. Within a second, her hands land in his neck and she pulls him down to her, kisses him gently. Her tears have dried up, and instead, she feels him be as gentle as she can be. And he loves tasting her. He loves how soft she is. Everything about her. A doze of dopamine hitting his system. She lets go off him then, her hands in his neck so that their noses still touch. 

“Thank you.” she whispers against his lips. He nods. She doesn’t need to say anything else. Slowly, she reaches for his left hand, not letting her eyes leave his. Within a few seconds, he realizes where her hand has moved. With the most gentle motion, she has placed his hand on the most intimate part of her body. He understands immediately, lowers his face to kiss her neck gently. He’s trying so hard. He’s trying so hard not to let these three words just come bursting out of his mouth in this moment. Her skin is so soft under his lips, her little hands on his scalp, caressing him gently. He can feel her longing for him in between her legs. His fingers gently exploring her body, being as careful as they could be. Within a few seconds, he leaves her neck, looks back into her eyes again. Her lips are a bit swollen from their previous kisses, and there’s a kind of calmness in her eyes he hasn’t seen before. 

“You sure?” he asks her again, and she appreciates it so much. Not a single time they’ve slept with each other without Travis asking for her consent beforehand. She appreciates this, appreciates just how much he respects her. She nods, adjusting her head on the pillow. She looks down, so that she can witness his fingers moving gently. She feels her chest rising, enjoys every single one of his hand movements so much. She swallows, her breath a bit shaky now. She can feel him kiss her cheek while his hand keeps up the steady movement. She feels so safe in this moment. She knows she can let go. She knows with him, she’s always safe to let go. 

“Fuck..” she mumbles then, a little sigh escaping her mouth then, breaking the silence between them. She’s holding onto his neck with her hand, desperately looking at him.

“Can you..” 

Travis immediately looks at her. She is fully focused on his hands, her left hand on his lower arm now, feeling his muscles move while he pleasures her. With the other hand, she’s holding onto the towel underneath her. She struggles to speak right now, but he patiently waits for her to finish her thought. He feels so close to her in this moment. They’ve just reached a new level of intimacy. He can feel it in his bones. 

“What..” 

“Can you go.. just a bit faster?” 

He doesn’t reply to her, just does what she asked him. His circle motions are steady but at a higher speed than before. And she appreciates it. So much. She lets her head fall back into the pillow, the little frown appearing on her face that he knows so well. A frown he only knows when he’s in between her legs. And he loves it so much. With his free hand he begins to caress her naked stomach a bit, her hand reaching for his. She’s close. And he’s ready to be there for her, for every second of it. A last little moan escapes her mouth and it gives him goosebumps. Suddenly, her breathing gets faster and faster and he can hear her whisper his name a few times, with the same high pitched desperate moan that he knows and loves so much. He can feel her ride off her wave of pleasure, tightly holding into his arm, guiding him in his movements. He looks into her face as it happens, and he swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life. For a few seconds, she breathes fast with her mouth open, her body just coming down from this mountain she climbed with him. He knows she’s sensitive now, and he’s as gentle with her as humanly possible. His hand still between her legs, he doesn’t move, gives her the time and space to come back down to planet earth. She opens her eyes again after a few seconds, her cheeks flushed. She just pulls him down to her, kissing him full of giggles and lust. He can feel her hand reach for his boxers. He laughs into the kiss. He knows what she wants, and he would be lying if he said he doesn’t want exactly the same. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.” she mumbles in between the shower of kisses she gives him, her hand now fully landing on his naked butt. She smiles into their kiss. The stubble of his beard scratching her face in the best way. 

“You’re so welcome.” he whispers back, smiling at her. She loves to feel his naked weight on top of her now. Two noses touching. He looks down for a second, gently guiding himself into her. He watches her face closely, trying to find any trace of discomfort. But there is none. She closes her eyes in pleasure again, and so does he. Paradise. He opens his eyes again, feeling her arms holding onto his. Her frown is back. Paradise. He can feel her move with him, her mouth opened, sweet moans escaping her again. He knows she’s holding back, not forgetting that they’re not alone in this house. But he’s still in paradise. 

“Baby..” she cries out then, half a whisper, half a beg, half a moan. He looks at her, his big hand already cupping her face. He kisses her forehead right over her bangs. She’s warm. She’s slowly but surely starting to sweat a little, just like him. 

“Can I.. I want to be on top, please. Please.” she mumbles. He immediately stops, lets himself fall next to her in bed. He feels her get up, position herself on top of him. She’s still flushed, yet her eyes barely leave his. He looks up at her, can’t help but feel like he’s dreaming. Her long hair over her naked shoulders. Her hands reaching for his chest to hold herself upright. She’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. She begins her movements again, and he helps her. His hands on her hips, his eyes on her face. She’s so beautiful. He can’t help but look at her. Can’t help but stare at her letting go on top of him. 

After a few minutes, he feels his vision get blurry. She lets out another moan, a little louder than before. He feels himself come undone, then loves to feel her collapse on his chest. She’s breathing heavy, both of his hands on her bare back, feeling her lungs do the most in this moment. She comes down only slowly. Her skin hot and soft. She doesn’t move, just relaxes slowly. And he loves every minute of it. He loves feeling her get heavier and heavier on him. His hands stroking her back up and down, making her feel just as loved as before they had sex. A few seconds later, she looks back up at him, a smile on her face. He smiles back at her, both his hands cupping her face now, kissing her gently. This time, there’s no lust in his kisses no more. There’s just love. A lot of love. 

She quickly moves on his torso and lets herself fall next to him. She stares at the ceiling for a second, then turns her head back to him. He’s moved to his side, just so he can see her better. His hand on her stomach again. He loves being so close to her. There’s nothing better than being so close to her. His fingers drawing circles on her skin. 

“That escalated quickly.” she mumbles. He laughs, stealing her temple a soft kiss. 

“Thanks for your.. for your incredible massage. Also for.. the other part after.” she says, grinning at him as goofy as a teenager who just had sex for the first time. It makes him laugh. 

“I don’t think my body has ever felt so relaxed, Trav.” she whispers. His lips still on her temple. He smiles, as she looks back at him. There’s a sparkle in her eyes, he hasn’t noticed before. It must be the afterglow that people always speak about. 

“You’re very welcome. Glad you liked it.” 

“I didn’t just like it. Trav, that was.. electric. Literally electric.” 

He smiles at her using his own words. She lets their noses touch once, has now moved to the side to be face to face, and eye to eye with him. 

“Thank you so much.” she says again. He doesn’t really react, just places his hand on her cheek. There’s so much love in his eyes in this moment. He doesn’t need to say anything. His eyes just say it all. 

“You cold?” 

“A little.” 

He starts moving, for the first time since minutes and helps her crawl underneath the big blanket just under them. She adjusts a little, then cuddles herself fully under the covers. Her hands looking for him. She moves again, until she’s finally fully embraced in his arms. He kisses her head, makes sure she’s covered by the blanket. Silence takes over, and he allows himself to close his eyes for a minute. 

“Trav?” 

“Mhm?

“Can we try this?” 

“Try what?” 

“Us.” 

For a second, he can’t dare believe his ears. His eyes open, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t know if she just meant what she said, but she said it. Taylor moves again, turns around to be able to face him. She’s worried suddenly that she’s said too much. She’s worried that his silence is something other than utter surprise. He looks at her in shock. Within a second, she feels a tummy ache flaring up inside of her. 

“Do you.. can you please say something?” she mumbles and he takes a breath, slowly sits up. She’s worried now. She’s never witnessed him this freaked out. She knew it was too soon. But she can take it back. Thank god she didn’t fully speak it out yet. She can fix this. She looks at him leaning against her bed rest. She carefully sits up as well, holding the blanket close to her naked body. 

“I’m so sorry for.. just.. not finding the right words, Tay.” he says finally, and she nods “No worries, I mean I know I..” 

“My answer is yes. But I need you to know what I’m in for.” he interrupts her and she’s shocked for a moment. She looks at him, feels her hands shaking suddenly. She doesn’t feel relaxed anymore, at all. What bomb did she just set off? She can feel him get nervous as well. It’s been a while since he was acting like this around her. 

“I.. I don’t want us to just be another fling. I..” he stops, gathering his words, “I know this is not the most romantic way to do this, but if we try this, if we.. if we try being something serious. Like.. as serious as a relationship. Then.. then I want you to know that I’m in it for the long run.” he looks into her eyes, fully aware that this could scare her off for good. But he needs to honor himself. He needs to be straight with her, or else this won’t have a chance of working out. 

“I’m not in this, if.. if you want a little distraction. Or a little fun. I want a partnership. I want to have a family eventually. And of course, we.. we have a long way to go. To see if we fit. To see if this can work. But I just want you to know that if we try this, then.. then this is my intention.” 

Travis takes a deep breath after finishing his little speech. He can’t dare look at her again, but he’s proud of himself for having said it. Suddenly, he feels her hands reach for his. He looks back into her eyes, and she smiles. A little tear in her eyes. He can see that clearly. 

“Okay.” she whispers. He swallows, not sure how to react. All he feels is her small hand caressing his. 

“Okay?” 

She nods, a smile on her lips. 

“I want the same thing. With you. But.. I’m just.. I just hope you know what you are in for. With all this attention. I will be on tour soon, Trav. If you think this is bad, the security and the.. the staying hidden, then you have no idea what you’re in for in the next months. My life is crazy. My life is.. fully out of control. But it’s my life. And I have lost years of my life hiding for someone else who couldn’t handle the pressure. And.. and I can’t do that no more. I’m all in, but I just hope you know what that means for you.” 

He looks at her, a big smile on his face. All the worries from before are gone. He nods. 

“Tay?” 

She looks at him, worry in her face. She knows his smile can’t really mean that he changed his mind after her little speech. But she is in fact worried that he will regret this. That he will ask her for more time to think about this. About what it means to be in a relationship with her. 

“I need to tell you something.” 

“What?” she says, her hand still holding his. She looks at the man in her bed. His naked torso leaned against her bed rest, his smile all over his face as he looks at her. She feels calm just looking at him smile like this, but there’s still a part of her that is full of anxiety right now. 

“I.. I think I’m really really really in love with you. Like… so much, it’s not even funny.” 

She doesn’t say anything, just stares at him for a moment. 

“Is that okay? I feel like.. maybe this is a good time to tell you. I will let you know if I can’t handle your life, I promise. But I need you to know that I’m ridiculously in love with you. And.. and it would make me the happiest person on this planet to call you my girlfriend.” 

Travis finishes his sentence. She doesn’t say anything, just sits up a bit, both of her hands touching his cheeks. She presses her forehead against his, then leans in and kisses him. It’s a different type of kiss. She’s emotional. His hands land on her bare back again. 

“I love you, too.” she whispers then, closes her eyes and lets him kiss her bangs gently.

“So much.”

___

“You sure this is a good idea?” 

He asks again, sitting on the bed and looking at her. He’s wearing a pair of his Nike sweatpants and a black t-shirt. He watches her finish her make up in the mirror by her bedroom. She looks incredible, just like every day. A pair of blue boyfriend jeans covering her small frame, a grey longsleeve shirt on top and her black adidas shoes covering her feet. He loves to watch her get ready in the morning. He doesn’t know why, but it’s just another way of spending time with her. Witnessing her every move, every mundane thing she does in the morning, getting to know her even better. 

“Of course it is.” she says again, for the fifth time today, turning around to look at him with a smirk. He laughs too, now, knowing he acts absolutely ridiculous. After all, it’s her dad. She loves her dad. And he’s always been popular with his ex- girlfriend’s fathers. No need to act like a little boy now, Travis. 

“Listen, my parents are.. very much open to the idea of me dating again. I know they want me to be happy. And.. trust me, it’ll be fine.” 

He nods, watches her walk towards him. She stops standing right in front of him. He presses his face into her shirt, right above her stomach, giving her a few nervous kisses. 

“Also, I can’t stand the thought of you flying out today. So we definitely need to have a nice lunch altogether before you leave.” she mumbles into his head, kissing his head once. 

He looks back up at her and smiles. He can’t believe he’s flying out to Kansas City again. He can’t believe he’s spent five extra days in this city. Unplanned. The most incredible, beautiful, five days with this woman. Not a single chance, he could ever forget these days in his lifetime. 

“I’ll miss you, sweetie.” he mumbles. She nods, and he can see in her face that it worries her. She doesn’t want to leave their bubble. And neither does he. 

“I’ll miss you, too.” she says, “But it’s just one week.” 

He nods. They can do one week. They’ll be fine. 

“Travy, look. I did this for you!” 

Taylor quickly lets go off Travis, hears her daughter run into her mother’s bedroom. A pencil and a piece of paper in her small hands. Taylor and Travis decided to let some time pass before explaining to Eleanor where they both stand, with each other, in their relationship. She won’t ever fully introduce someone into her life, unless it’s as serious as it could get. And they’ve got time. They’ve got all the time in the world for this big move. 

“What? For me?” Travis looks at the little painting she made him. He’s in true disbelief. Eleanor smiles proudly at her mommy, gets all shy and nods then. 

“This is Olivia and Benjamin and Chauncy and Rambo.” 

Taylor can’t help but laugh a little, looks from Travis back to Eleanor. Her hands land on the little curlyhead. All it took was for Travis to show Eleanor a few pictures and videos of his dogs, and the little girl fell in love. Taylor knows how much she adores animals. Of course, she would fall in love with his doggs in a minute - even without having met them yet. 

“Oh my goodness. Eleanor. This is.. this is beautiful.” he says, completely serious, looking into the little girl’s proud face. 

“Wow, you’re so talented.” he says,pokes her tummy once and she giggles. 

“Can I get a hug?” he asks, and Eleanor falls into the big man’s arms. For a moment, Taylor stands there and feels herself get emotional. She knows this little girl hasn’t had a steady male figure in her life, besides her grandfather and her uncle, for almost a year now. Ever since her separation from Joe, Eleanor has seen her father twice. Phone calls that were promised got less and less. And Taylor could feel Joe not just forget about her, but also his daughter. He’s left her. She can barely let these thoughts enter her mind, but sometimes, they just come creeping back up. She knows that Eleanor knows exactly that her father hasn’t called in months. And Taylor knows that maybe, just maybe, this is why she’s so crazy about Travis. And how can she not be? He’s tall, he’s funny, he makes her laugh and he’s so kind and gentle to her. 

“Thanks so much, girly. I’m honored. This is beautiful. I will hang this one up in my house.” Travis says to Eleanor. Taylor notices Eleanor’s hand landing on Travis’s.

“And I promise you, soon you will meet Rambo and Chauncey. I promise. And I’ll send mommy some videos tonight.” he says, making Eleanor jump up and down a few times. Taylor loves seeing her so excited. She loves this relationship that’s slowly forming between Travis and her. But then again, the more she feels these two connecting, the more she feels herself growing anxious. A deep wave of anxiety, worry, almost panic arising in her chest.

If this won’t work out, then Travis will break two hearts. 

Not just one.

___

“Grandpa!” 

Travis hears Eleanor screaming while running towards the elevator door of the townhouse. He just stands there in the kitchen, taking a deep breath, which he hopes will remain unnoticed. Taylor already laughed at him taking off his earrings before. But he wants to be as presentable as possible for her dad. After all, he’s the man who entered his daughter’s and granddaughter’s life. He wants him to have a good first impression. Whatever that means. Travis slowly makes his way to the door, watches Eleanor jump onto Scott’s arm. The older man laughs a few times, already listening to Eleanor tell him all about her new school. Taylor just looks back to Travis, rolling her eyes at her daughter. He laughs. Eleanor is a very talkative little girl. He absolutely adores it about her. 

“Hi, honey.” Scott says then, hugging his daughter. Travis immediately feels the man’s eyes on him. He smiles at him, not sure how to act. He takes a step closer to him, opening his arms. Immediately, he realizes that Scott gives him a hand shake instead. Slightly embarrassed, he shakes his hand, tries to hide the fact that he expected the welcome to be a bit warmer, instead. 

“Hi, Mr. Swift. It’s so good to meet you. Taylor told me so much about you.”

Scott smiles, barely, and nods. 

“Nice to meet you.” 

Taylor watches the interaction, and gets a little confused. Her father is usually the warmest person she knows, has never not opened his arms for any of Taylor’s friends, or even her crappy ex-boyfriends. She’s not used to her dad being this cold, especially towards someone as open and as warm as Travis. Her parents have always taught her to keep warm people close. And Travis is one of these people. 

Taylor doesn’t say anything, just places her arm on Travis’s shoulder. It’s a small gesture but he knows its her way of assuring him.

“So glad you get to meet Travis, dad.” she mumbles, but Scott doesn’t really react, is suddenly extremely busy hanging up his jacket next to the door.

“Alright, shall we have lunch?” she says then, hoping the mood in the room gets lighter soon. She feels incredibly insecure suddenly. But she hopes Travis won’t feel any of this. He doesn’t deserve to not feel welcomed. After all, he’s been the most incredible person in her life for these past months.

“Sounds good.” Scott says, placing his bag in the dining room. 

“Grandpa, can we watch a movie together?” Eleanor asks her grandfather, already holding his hand again. Scott smiles at her, his hand protectively on her little head. 

“Sweetheart, your mommy and I have a few work meetings after lunch. But tonight, we can watch a movie together. How about that?” 

Eleanor nods, seems to not be very happy about his answer. 

“Should I.. do you need any help in the kitchen?” Travis asks Taylor. She looks at him, and immediately feels his tension. She hates it. 

“Actually, why don’t you and dad just sit down, and Eleanor and me we can get lunch ready huh?” 

Her hand lands on Travis’s back. He gives her that one look that always makes her laugh. But she knows this is good. As soon as her dad and him talk for a bit, the tensions in this penthouse will disappear and her dad will absolutely love him. Just like everyone else in her life so far.

“So, Scott. I heard you were also big on football during high school?” Travis asks, sitting down right in front of him at the dining table. Scott looks at him, no smile in sight. He nods. 

“Yup, I was a running back for five years.” 

“Oh wow.” Travis laughs, obviously relieved that the two have found a topic to discuss. “That’s awesome. Did you ever think about doing it professionally?” 

“I was a Finance major. So football was obviously just a hobby. Nothing more.” 

“Yeah, I get it. For me, was quite the opposite. Sports was always the only thing I was good at, so..” 

Scott doesn’t react. Silence. Travis looks up at him, has run out of things to say. Her dad clearly isn’t interested in a conversation with him. Instead, the seventy year-old man picks up Eleanor, helping her crawl onto the chair next to him. She shows him her little photo book that her mother has crafted with her, and filled with polaroids of herself and her three cats. Travis watches Scott smile at Eleanor. The shift in his mood couldn’t be more obvious. He’s completely in awe with his granddaughter, as he should be. And he couldn’t be less interested in getting to know him. Travis swallows, feels Taylor’s hand on his back. He can see in her face that she feels the same as him, pretends to put on a smile for him. But he can see right through her. There’s no denying that the mood is off. 

“What do you guys want to drink? Water? Sparkling water? Soda?” 

“I’ll just get a water. Thanks, honey.” Scott says. 

“Coke for you, babe?” she asks Travis. Her hand gently caressing his cheek over his beard. 

“I’ll just.. get a water. Thanks, babe.” 

She doesn’t say anything, and Travis wasn’t the only one feeling her father’s eyes on him. Taylor walks back into the kitchen, feels herself slowly get angry. She doesn’t know what has gotten into her dad. But she really hopes he gets it together, soon. 

“Do you usually just drink sodas for lunch, Travis?” 

Taylor places the waterbottle on the countertop with a bang. She’s getting mad, now. One more word and she’s going to loose her patience. Travis has been nothing but kind and polite. Yet her father treats him like a criminal. 

“Well, I train a lot. So I need to get my calories in somehow. I try to stick to diet drinks, but.. well sometimes an ice cold coke is just.. refreshing.” he laughs, a little insecure as he doesn’t get a nod back.

“Sodas are the number one reason for type one diabetes in our country. And that goes especially for children, Travis. I always tell Taylor it’s probably safer to have pesticides in the house than to give Eleanor any of these sugar drinks.” 

Travis doesn’t say anything, just nods. He asks himself if he was irresponsible these past days. After all, he did drink coke in front of Eleanor and even let her try once when Taylor allowed him to. He gets quiet, understands that there’s no arguing with her dad in this. After all, he’s right. 

“Too bad, because all this little girl drinks is coke and fanta and sprite. Oh, and sometimes before bed I add some sugar to her coke. Just makes her more sleepy, I find. The good old sugar crash just does the job.” Taylor says, a hint of anger in her voice. She places the food and water she just brought on top of the hardwood table. Scott just shakes his head, his hand still protectively on Eleanor’s little head. 

“Not funny, Taylor.” 

“Dad, come on. As if you never drink coke for lunch.” 

“Well, I certainly don’t after having cancer.” 

“Here goes the good vibes.” Taylor says, angry, looking at Travis. He doesn’t say anything, and she feels horrible for him. Under the table, she reaches for his hand, squeezes it a few times. 

“Eat up, guys.” she says then, encouraging the two men to start eating. Eleanor reaches for her glass of water, and starts chugging it down. It gets quiet. Horribly quiet. Travis doesn’t speak, and neither does Scott. 

“Grandpa.” Eleanor says, and Taylor has to smirk. Of course her bubbly five-year old would kill these weird vibes today. 

“Yes, honey.” Scott says. 

“Look at my bracelets.” she says, proudly, showing her grandfather her arm full of friendship bracelets. 

“Oh, beauiful. Did you make that all by yourself?” 

“Yes, with my friend Emily.” 

“That’s awesome.” 

“And this one I made with Travy yesterday.” she says proudly, smiling at Travis. He smiles back at her, his head tilting slightly to the side. He always does that whenever Eleanor looks at him with her little eyes. Taylor witnesses the interaction with a smile. 

“Travy?” 

“Yeah, she… well, my nieces always call me Travy so I told Eleanor she can call me..”

“Taylor. Can I speak with you outside for a second.” 

Taylor swallows. For a moment, the entire demeanor around this table has shifted, once again. Travis knows exactly what this is about. He feels guilty all of the sudden. Guilty for having entered Taylor’s life. Guilty for getting closer to Eleanor. He can feel Taylor get more tense. The two adults get up, leave the room to take the stairs up to the rooftop patio. He swallows. He’s definitely lost his appetite now. He just sits there, leans back. A door is closing. Loudly. And then all he hears is yelling. Scott yelling, then Taylor. Then Scott. Then Taylor interrupting him yelling some more. He’s so glad he can’t hear just every word he says. But he knows what this is about. And hearing Taylor yell like this is not something he’s ever witnessed before. 

“Travy..” Eleanor mumbles then, looks at Travis confused. 

“Is mommy fighting with grandpa?” she asks him, has also put down her fork. He can see in her little blue eyes that she’s worried. And Travis feels even worse. He swallows, takes a deep breath, then sighs. 

“Yeah, I think so.” 

Eleanor nods.

“I don’t like it when mommy is mad. Because.. because sometimes, she gets sad, too.” 

“Yeah, I also hated when my mommy was sad.” 

Eleanor nods. 

“Maybe grandpa didn’t like my bracelets.” she says then. Travis can’t help but smile suddenly. He can’t believe this beautiful little girl thinks anything she ever did is the reason her mom and grandpa are fighting. 

“Hey, give me your hand, girly.” he says then, gently. Eleanor looks at him, and Travis reaches for her small hand on top of the table. 

“Listen to me.” he mumbles, “your grandpa absolutely loves your bracelets. Trust me.” 

Eleanor nods slowly. He caresses her tiny hand for a second, so long, until Eleanor seems to be lighting up again. 

“Travy.” 

“Yeah?”

“Promise to send mommy the video of Chauncey and Rambo, okay?” 

He smiles gently, then nods. 

“I promise.” 

[abbyromanoff]

hii, can I request virgin! innocent! gp! wanda and dom reader,, wanda trying to masturbate but doesn't know how and then reader helps her and makes her cum

Assistance

Pairings: g!p Wanda Maximoff x reader

Warnings: smut, blowjobs, unprotected sex, mentions of cunnilingus, Wanda has a penis and is a virgin, bottom!Wanda, handjob, porn, maturbation, first times, small angst

Word count: 1777

Summary: After finding out the truth about why Wanda is so scared to have sex you offer to help in more ways than one.

No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!

The moment you walked up your stairs you heard moans coming from the bedroom. Assuming the worst you stopped for a moment and tried to calm yourself, you couldn’t trust that if you were to catch your girlfriend cheating that you wouldn’t hit someone. You dropped your bag onto the ground and shakily opened the door with sweaty palms, the nerves settling in.

The sight you walked in on wasn’t one you expected, Wanda was sat with her cock in her hands as her laptop was open, sounds illuminating from the item. When the girl saw you she quickly closed her laptop and covered herself with the blanket while you were frozen in place. You’ve never seen Wanda naked, she said she just didn’t want you to think she was ugly when the real reason was because of what lies upon her crotch. You didn’t move and didn’t talk, it was worrying Wanda immensely.

“Y/N? Can you say something?” You broke out of your trance and walked over to the bed, laying on the side next to her.

“Are you going to leave me now?” She asked in a small, hushed tone. Your eyes widened as you took in her question, why would she ever think something like that?

“What? Of course not! I’m never going to leave you no matter what, you’re stuck with me. And I’m definitely not going to leave you over something you can’t change or control.” You pulled her into a sweet, reassuring kiss as small tears escaped her green eyes.

“You’re really not going to break up with me?” “No, why would you think that?” She looked down at your question, playing with her finger which was a nervous habit of hers. You grabbed the shaking hands and gave a kiss to the back of them, looking at her as you awaited for a response.

“Well, the one person I ever dated left me because they said I was weird and not normal. That’s why I’ve never been naked around you and why I’ve made you wait so long to sleep with me.” Tears of your own formed in your eyes as you took in her words. The thought of someone breaking her heart like that and calling her all those disgusting names made you want to hold her in your arms forever.

“They were an idiot to let you go. You’re the most beautiful, the sweetest, most amazing person I’ve ever met and I promise you I’m not going to do what they did.” You answered before adding with a smirk, “If anything, it makes you hotter.” The brunette laughed as you joined her. You entangled her into a hug and only then remembered what she was doing before this.

“Hey Wands?” She hummed in response and you leaned back to look at her. “You know, if you want, I could maybe help you. Like with masturbating.” You immediately cringed at your own words as they left your mouth and prayed that you didn’t make this awkward or push her into doing anything. She looked as if she was thinking hard about her answer before nodding with a small smile.

“Are you sure? I mean, if you aren’t ready I understand I just want you to feel good. And no offense you didn’t really seem to know what you were doing.” You could see the look of embarrassment on her face at your last sentence, she wondered if she actually seemed that inexperienced.

“I’m ready, I want to sleep with you.” You stood up to remove your own clothing to make her feel less exposed. When you leaned back down you grabbed onto the blankets covering her body, asking permission that was soon granted. Nervousness filled the girl as you took in her body, her tits were on display and you couldn’t help but reach out for them. You could tell she was sensitive as she whimpered at your touch. Moving down her body you left kisses along the way, making sure to not leave any part of her unloved. You reached her throbbing cock and gave a small peck to the tip leaking pre-cum. Wanda threw her head back at the small stimulation as her length twitched against her stomach.

Wrapping your hands around her pulsing dick you started a slow rhythm of moving your palm up and down. The girl was a moaning mess, it was her first time so you weren’t exactly surprised. You saw the closed laptop and returned it to its original state as the loud sounds from before turned back on. Wanda shot her head up as she stared at the screen, a woman was scissoring with another woman and she watched intently.

“That’s it baby, keep your eyes on the screen for me.” She did what you asked without complaint, admiring as the pussies slid together back and forth. She always wondered what that would feel like but she knew she’d never know, seeming as she was born with something else, something that she knew made her different. Her thoughts were cut off as your hand went to massage her balls, gently rubbing them in your palm to stimulate her further.

“Y/N, gonna-“ Her words were cut off as spurts of cum landed on her stomach and your face. The woman was embarrassed knowing that she came sooner than what she was hoping for but seeing your content face made her relax a bit.

“Such a good girl Wanda, so proud of you. You did so, so good for your first time.” She smiled at your praises as you leaned up to give her a passionate kiss. She thought you were done until you lowered yourself once again and kissed up her inner thighs until you reached her bulbous head.

“What- what are you doing?” “Oh Wands, I’m gonna suck you off. You know what a blowjob is, don’t you?” She bit her lip thinking about it, nodding quickly to your question. With her answer you brought your lips around her tip, making eye contact as you sucked. She placed her eyes back on the screen and watched as the two women finished all over each other, one going down on the other. You took down as much as you could before bobbing your head up and down repeatedly, gagging as she hit the back of your throat.

“Don’t- don’t hurt yourself- fuck!” Wanda struggled to form a sentence as the warmth around her brought her closer to the edge. You noticed her struggling to find where to put her hands so you placed them on your head, letting her guide your head however she liked. She nervously directed you as her noises grew louder, you being pleased with how well she was vocalling her pleasure brought your hands to her large breasts and teased them to your liking, smiling around her when she shuttered.

“Y/N, I- I think I’m gonna cum.” You released her long cock from your mouth to speak in a warning tone, “Hold it for me, can you do that? Can you be my good little puppy and wait?” She nodded even if she didn’t think she could, she just wanted to make you happy. You sat yourself up and lined your dripping core up with her wet length covered in your saliva. Lowering yourself down you immediately felt full, even with just half of her inside of you it felt like she was stretching you out.

“So big Wands! You stretch me out so fucking well baby.” You whispered hotly against her plump lips. Her eyes fluttered closed as the immense warmth of your pussy surrounded her, she could barely take it.

“I’m gonna-” “No you’re not, you’re going to make me feel good and then you can cum again. You don’t want to be selfish, now do you? You want to make me cum, don’t you?” Her eager nod made you laugh, her desperate self amused you.

You sunk down further until your pelvis hit her own, starting to rock yourself back and forth on her length. You brought your mouth to her perky tits as you sucked them to your liking. Wanda held you close as she started to thrust up into you, becoming desperate. She was chasing her own high until she remembered what you said earlier, stopping her pace she tried to stop herself from finishing before you. When you felt her movements die down you looked up at her, removing her breast from your mouth with a small ‘pop’.

“Don’t stop, you were doing so good, where’d my good girl go, huh?” You rocked your hips against her faster before speaking again, “Rub my clit for me Wands. Yes! That’s it! Rub my fucking clit, be my good little slut and don’t stop.” Her hands felt like magic, in fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if she was using her magic to pleasure you further. You kept up with your fast pace and continued your earlier actions on her breasts. Tears filled the younger woman’s eyes as she couldn’t hold it anymore, she could feel herself finally giving in. You noticed, you could feel her throbbing inside of you as small spurts of cum filled your small hole.

“You can do it princess, I’m on the pill.” Your approval made her finally let go as channels of hot cum filled your small hole. You encouraged her with your words and your stroking of her face until she relaxed, leaning into your touch. Removing her now soft cock from inside of you, you started to get up and head to the bathroom until you felt a hand enclose around your own, stopping you from going anywhere. You looked back to see Wanda’s puzzled expression and walked back over to her, wrapping your arms around her shoulders.

“But what about you? I didn’t make you cum.” She looked dissapointed in herself, it was as if it was her goal of the night to make you finish. You chuckled lighty at her sweetness and answered her in a soft voice.

“Tonight was about you, alright? You can make me cum another time, I promise.” You thought she’d back down but she only disagreed, it was her mission to make you feel just as good as he did.

“No. I’m going to make you feel just as good as I did if not better. I don’t care how long it takes I’m going to make you cum.” Her little pout made it impossible to take her seriously but you nodded and layed down on the comfortable sheets, watching as she shyly went down on you.

[scentedpeachlandcreator]

Hello. I need your help. I have been assuming I have my desired face for two years now and I didn’t want to admit it till now but I can’t live like this anymore because I had massive glow downs my skin is at it peak worst my face looks really weird ugly and masculine and it’s like completely the opposite of how I want it to be and I can’t seem to let it go. And everytime I look into the mirror I completely stress and freak out because my face seems to get more distancing from my desire and it really disappoints me because I’m actually really good at manifesting and I get everything but this just seems so hard and I’ve tried so much already. I even let it go for 2 months but then I also got uglier. It’s so frustrating. But I don’t want to be this version because I feel like I should have already gotten my desired face a long time ago and I’m really tired of looking at my desired face the entire day and affirming I have it and trying to act like that version. It genially makes my wanna kill myself. mWhat should I do?

Hello! Sorry for not answering your ask, i was busy with school.

Well sweatheart i know how you feel, but first we need to calm down and remind ourself that we're powerful, limitless, and our imagination is what create the World around us.

The 3d is Always gonna limit you, you'll feel stuck, Desperate, and helpless.

But in the 4d/imagination we'll feel free, limitless.

And i'm here to make you understand that manifesting is an easy process.

How Law of assumption work?

Law of assumption is Law which state what you assume to be true and keep returning to this assumption it will be reflected in the physical World(3d).

But first we need to understand how the 3d and 4d plane works.

4d: imagination.

3d: physical World.

The 3d's job is just to reflect the 4d, but in order to change the 3d we need to change the 4d/our self first, you need to change your beliefs/assumptions/Mindset.

But how to manifest?

Decide.

Affirm.

Persist.

That it.

Now we will apply it to your face.

You're manifesting your desired face because you don't like your current one, so you decided what face you wanna look like.

So you start assuming you have your desired face "i already have my desired face" "oh my! I look exactly like her!"

But then you'll start noticing that the 3d is not showing you what you want.

Can you Guess why?

Well that because you're checking the 3d for results, you're edging to look for movement.

But honey, that not how the Law works, you need to trust the process, the Law is a promise, you'll receive your desires but first you need to stop checking the 3d, time, movement.

They won't get you anywhere, you'll be stuck in a cycle.

Now i want you to decide that YOU DO HAVE YOUR DESIRED FACE.

It is done, creation is finished.

You Saw it in your mind? Then it is done.

You have nothing to do, trust the process and know that the 3d will change.

"but Eli when i see a glimpse of my face in the mirror, i see no change :("

Well instead of saying there's no change, affirm the opposite, when you look at yourself in the mirror while brushing your teeth or washing your face Say along the lines "look at this beauty! I look exactly like X", "damn i wanna kiss myself! I look so pretty!"

Hype yourself up! I know it will feel like your lying to yourself at first but eventually with Time it will feel natural.

Now get your ass up and manifest that beauty of yours ;⁠) !

(Note: if you feel like you overconsumed so much info read this post or mine).

Xoxo, Eli

[amymbona]

i’m (s)creaming for private school patrick.

like enemies to lovers in like a patrick is a duchebag who uses his dads money and power to the full extent, always ditching classes, getting caught with alc and drugs but never being expelled like all the other kids, and rumors that say his dad payed for the new building for him to stay after failing half of his classes way. readers also pretty well off, but she never abuses it and works hard for her grades.

him and readers friends are talking at the courts before practice and patrick saids something like why would you try hard if you’re spoilt anyway, and they get into a argument!!!!!!

just a start but i’ve been thinking about this for so long.

He's such a cocky little bitch, you really wanna punch his ugly face sometimes. Spoiled idiot who's daddy is willing to pull him out of every shit hole he jumps into. It's unfair, the Zweig priviledge, when there are people who work hard and put their whole being into something, just to have this Patrick guy come and steal their dreams.

You're the first person to ever tell that to Patrick, yelling at him, a small circle of people gathering around you two. You keep calling him a spoiled kid, a little bitch and much much worse while he just stands there, arms crossed, smirking, loving the way your cheeks turn red the angrier you are.

"Calm down, angel face, you're gonna burst," he counters, patting your shoulder. His words earn a laugh from the group of people around you, only pissing you off further.

"Trust me, you wouldn't like to see me burst," you smile sweetly, poking him in the stomach with to racket to push him away from you. He complies, raising his hands in mock surrender.

When you push past him, the crowd parts, allowing you to walk through. Walking away, you don't miss the whistle coming from behind you and someone complimenting your ass.

Now the more you try to ignore Patrick's presence, the louder he seems to be. Constantly giggling during lectures, occupying the court for hours so you can't even practice properly, smoking with his stupid friends. Patrick Zweig is suddenly everywhere and, without trying, makes your life complete hell.

He's so smug about it too, greeting you almost politely when you walk past each other, telling to smile and enjoy the life. Just being a usual jerk. You really see his face so often that he starts appearing in your dreams. And to be honest, Patrick aha a hard time forgetting your pretty face as well.

He surprises you by falling into step with you on one random afternoon, both of you on your way to the English lecture.

"I have an offer for you," he begins casually, not even sparing you a glance.

"I don't wanna hear it," you refuse whatever he has to say immediately.

Patrick snickers, eyes flicking towards the curve of your nose and your pouty lips. "I could get you to the New York Times, y'know?"

Your steps come to a halt, brows furrowing at the sudden offer, because that absolutely not something you were expecting. "What?"

Patrick turns to face you, a confident smile on his face. When there's a certain lack of excitement on your face he shrugs, lazily walking closer to you. "What? Don't play stupid with me, Y/N. I know about your journalism stuff."

"What are you even talking about?" you exclaim in confusion.

"Look, I'm not stupid," he sighs, eyes rolling. "You're good at tennis, we can see, but that's not what you wanna do, is it? I know you're constantly nagging to the prof about your writing stuff. And lucky for you, my dad is not short on phone numbers."

You can't believe it. All of this sounds so absolutely absurd that you wanna ask Patrick to pinch you to make sure this is real. Because if doesn't fucking sound like that.

"You're weird," you scoff, pushing past him. This is just stupid.

But Patrick is next to you in no time. "C'mon, Y/N, you know you want it. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Just say yes."

"I'm not accepting anything from you, Patrick," still determined, you keep refusing.

"Why not? Isn't that you dream?" the way he says it makes shivers run down your spine. Of course working for the New York Times is your dream, but you wanna get there through your own accomplishments, and not as a result of someone's rich daddy's call.

"That's none of your business," you mutter, attempting to outrun him.

But before you could walk any further, a big hand wraps around your elbow, and then you're facing Patrick again. Much closer now, you can see the freckles on his cheeks and nose. You've never noticed that before.

"Don't be stupid, Y/N. I could literally make your dream come true," the tone of his voice is now much softer.

"You could?" you snicker ironically. "It's my dream and I am gonna be the only one making it real."

Patrick looks at you silently, head tilting to the side as an attempt, you don't even know, to appear cuter? More innocent? To make you accept his offer?

"Think about it, Y/N," he whispers, palms finding their place on your shoulders. "Just at twenty years old, you could be working at the fucking New York Times. Isn't that thrilling?"

It would be thrilling, if it wasn't Patrick Zweig offering you such a thing, "And what do I have to do for that? Sleep with your rich daddy? Sell my soul to the devil?"

"Nothing," Patrick shrugs simply.

Now that sounds even more idiotic. "What the fuck?"

But Patrick is determined, smiling softly. He almost seems honest. "You heard me, Y/N. I don't want anything from you. I just wanna make you happy."

"Like I'd believe that," you scoff, prying yourself out of Patrick's hold. There's no real way you could possibly accept that.

This time, Patrick doesn't stop you, instead allowing you to walk away. But that stupid smirk stays glued to his face, because he's really not blind, and he saw you consider the opportunity. Even if it was for just a split second. "Let it settle in your head, angel face!"

[ba1duran]

i understand a lot of people being shocked about wyll ‘complaining’ about his horns, and there are even some people who outright call him racist for his lamenting (after helping the tiefling’s / while speaking to a tiefling tav / having karlach in your camp, no less), but like. and this isn’t a jab at anyone because it is a widely perceived interpretation that he’s calling his horns ugly and therefor thinks lesser of all tieflings. he’s not talking about tiefling horns. it is specifically noted that mizora gave him devil features, a comment that goes over a lot of peoples heads and i’ve not yet seen really click for anyone (again, not a jab, because it’s easy to interpret everything the way it’s been interpreted because of phrasing).

you remember the blood war? the thing that caused so many tiefling causalities and forced the tieflings out of avernus? the war heavily featuring devils? wyll’s horns are atypical for a tiefling, but are a style that are recognizable as a devils. mizora specifically gave him devil horns.

wyll doesn’t think tiefling features are disgusting. he doesn’t look down on them. him grieving what has happened to his body isn’t him saying tieflings are gross and weird and bad and hideous. he’s upset because he’s been marked in such a way that displays him as an oppressor, an aggressor, a figure of trauma and pain for the very people he’s worked so hard to protect. it’s also why he gets distressed and offended if you compliment his horns, because they are such a heavy symbol of pain and torment (to himself, to tieflings, to so many others) and he cannot possibly understand the idea that there might still be any beauty in him. also, you know. he’s allowed to be upset at the fact that his soul and his body were forced through all the layers of the hell within seconds — he’s allowed to come out of that canonically agonizing and horrific experience traumatized and scared and angry, because, you know, he mentally and physically and emotionally endured all the torments of hell when he was changed.

and, just. it is a little funny /s. the fact that other characters can be so blatant in their very legitimate racism towards others, and the fandom totally looks the other way or makes a joke out of it, but when wyll laments about becoming a devil — not a tiefling, a devil — suddenly he’s the worst person ever and everyone feels weird about him. and again, i understand that it was an easy to miss distinction, but, like … (gestures). anyway.

[lunagojo]

Various Anime Boys: Being Told "I love you" For The First Time (Part 2!)

a/n: yeeeeeah i should be working on my essay but here I am

Featured: Sanemi Shinazugawa, Kento Nanami, Keigo Takami / Hawks, Atsuhiro Sako / Mr. Compress

Warnings: Swearing in Sanemi's, stitching up Atsuhiro's boo boos

~ Part 1 ~ ~ Part 3 ~ ~ Part 4 ~ ~ Part 5 ~

Sanemi Shinazugawa:

(was anyone gonna tell me he and Satoru share the same English dub VA??? It's so weird hearing Gojo's voice coming out of Nemi XD)

The other Hashira could not understand it. How did you manage to calm Sanemi down so much? It’s like your presence alone was a soothing balm to his damaged heart. Even he didn’t fully understand why he was so drawn to you, like a moth to a warm, glowing light. You were kind, patient, understanding…all things that he yearned for. And you made him ohagi, which, of course, was a bonus.

You were sitting together outside one evening, simply enjoying the peace and quiet together. Sanemi was unusually quiet, his lips pressed into a thin, firm line. He was getting annoyed with how he felt around you, and how lately you had refused to make eye contact with him.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, his voice rough, “Why the fuck don’t you look at me anymore? It’s like I’m ugly or somethin’ to you.”

You immediately raised your hands and shook your head adamantly, “No, no, it’s…it’s not that at all, Sanemi! I’m sorry.”

“Then what the fuck is it? And don’t tell me it’s that you’re shy or some shit.”

“N—No…it’s not that either.”

“Then just tell me, dammit. You’re starting to irk me.” He huffed, narrowing his eyes at you.

You blushed and swallowed harshly, looking embarrassed. “…I love you, Sanemi.”

He froze in place, his eyes going wide. “What?! You better not be fuckin’ joking or I’ll kick your ass.” It was an empty threat, Sanemi would never hurt you. He’d kill anyone who tried.

“I’m not joking!” You replied quickly, your cheeks darkening. You looked down into your lap, terrified that you had just made some sort of big mistake. Sanemi’s hand found yours and he squeezed it, bringing it to his lips. You looked back at him, surprised.

“I love you too, idiot.”

Kento Nanami

(violently drooling over this man)

It had been several long, toiling days of work at Jujutsu Tech for you. You’d barely had any time to rest, having to wrap up mountains of paperwork that entailed the various curses that had been exorcised in the recent days. It was going to be another late night, everyone else had either gone home or gone to bed in the dorms, and it was just you, awake and working hard to finish up your work.

That is, you thought it was just you.

You didn’t even notice Kento standing in the doorway, watching you as you typed away on your computer. He didn’t know how you could look so stunning even when you were exhausted. He cleared his throat, which ended up startling you.

“I’m sorry,” He said as he entered, “ I didn’t mean to scare you.” In his hand was a paper bag.

You exhaled, relieved it was only Kento. Giving him a tired smile, you gestured for him to sit down in the spare seat. “It’s alright,” You assured him. “I guess I’ve just been way too absorbed in getting this done.”

“I can see that,” He replied, opening the bag. “You’ve been working tremendously hard lately. You need a break.” He took a wrapped sandwich out of the bag and offered it to you. “I know it isn’t much, but you do need to eat.”

You gratefully took the sandwich and didn’t hesitate to start eating it. You were starving.

“It won’t kill you to take a break,” He said. “Working overtime is never healthy.” He folded his hands in his lap, offering you a kind smile. You blushed at the sight. Kento rarely smiled around anyone.

You sighed softly and sat back in your chair. “I know…but I need to get this done.”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t do any harm to get some sleep tonight.” He pressed gently, removing his glasses and loosening his tie. “If you’re adamant about finishing it then I would be more than happy to keep you company.”

Something about his kindness, his smile, the way he was looking at you, it was almost too much for you to handle. He had always been so nice and thoughtful toward you.

God, I love you.

He straightened in his seat suddenly, looking at you with a wide eyed gaze. It took you a moment to realize that you had said it.

Heat creeping up into your cheeks, you stammered out an apology, ears burning hotly. Kento then smiled again, getting up from his chair and rounding your desk, so he was stood in front of you. His hand gently cradled your face, thumb running along your cheek. “You mean that?” He asked quietly, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded. He responded by pressing his lips to your forehead, murmuring back, “I love you, too. Now come to bed.”

(these are getting longer and longer lmfao)

Keigo Takami

(sunshine bby bird boi)

“Haaawwwks~! Haaaawwwwwwkkkksss~!”

You rolled your eyes at the incessant sounds of the girls on the TV. Hawks had just rescued a bunch of people from a burning building and, of course, a fleet of his fangirls had followed him. It made your gut twist in jealousy when you saw footage of him taking selfies with some of them. You turned off the TV after that, flopping back on the couch. You knew you shouldn’t be jealous, after all, Keigo and you were just friends, nothing more. But God damn, did he make it so hard, with his stupid good looks and stupid charm and stupid sweet heart and sense of justice.

You heard the window to your apartment slide open and feet hit the floor. “Heyyyyy, Y/N, I’m baaaaack! Mind if I use your shower?”

“You have your own apartment, Kei.” You retorted, turning your head to look at him. He looked a bit scuffed up but still had that doofy big grin on his face.

“But it’s not as fun as being here with you!” He said in a sing songy voice, “Did ya see my rescue? Pretty nifty, huh?”

“Was alright.” You said back, inciting a snort from him.

“You wound me, Y/N.” He feigned heartbreak by clutching his chest. “’Kay, lemme go get cleaned up.”

He disappeared into your bathroom, leaving you resting alone on the couch again. You heard the shower running and covered your eyes with your arms, sighing heavily. You were in love with him and you felt stupid because of it.

In a few minutes he came back out, dressed in clean clothes, his hair and wings damp still. “Wanna order some takeout or something? I could really go for some yakitori, y’know?”

“No, you go ahead, though.” You said back flatly.

Keigo frowned a bit. “Hey now, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” He flopped down on the couch next to you, giving you a quizzical look. “C’mon, Y/N, talk to meeeeeee…”

“It’s nothing important, Kei.”

“It’s important to me. You’re important to me.” He pressed further, leaning into you so his chin was on your shoulder. “Please tell me?”

You sighed, finally looking at him. “I told you it’s nothing important, Keigo.”

“Noooo, c’mon, you’re torturing me now. Please please pleeeeease tell meeeee?”

“Ugh, God, I love you, stupid! I always have!” You finally blurted, annoyed and now embarrassed.

Silence fell over the apartment as humiliated tears stung your eyes. You were half expecting him to laugh, half expecting him to gently reject you. But he didn’t.

Instead, he tucked his fingers under your chin, turning your head so you’d look at him. His face had an expression on it that you’d never seen before, his eyes were so soft, his smile so warm and comforting. “I didn’t think you felt the same.” He said. ”Wha—” you began, but he cut you off with his lips on yours. Sparks flew from behind your eyelids at the feeling.

When you two broke apart, he rested his forehead against yours, a tender smile on his face. “…You sure you don’t want yakitori, though?”

Atsuhiro Sako

(this man needs so much more appreciation, honestly)

“You really ought to be more careful, Compress.” You said as you stitched up a wound on Atsuhiro’s side. “You’re probably the only sane person in the League, besides Kurogiri. How am I gonna deal with the others if you go and get yourself killed?”

“It almost sounds like you care for me, my dear.” He drawled in response, a small smirk playing across his face. Well, what you could see of it through his balaclava. He gritted his teeth, though, when you pulled the thread through again. “Fear not, I shall not leave you to fend for yourself. It would not be very theatrical of me.” His eyes lingered on your face, his grin widening when you blushed and looked away.

“…I was worried,” You admitted, finishing up with his stitches.

His smile faded then, and he placed a hand on your wrist. “I’m sorry for making you worry,” He replied, his brown eyes softening. “I promise I will be more careful from now on, alright?”

You nodded, setting your materials to the side and retrieving a bandage to wrap around his abdomen. “…Hiro?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Hm? What is it, my dear?”

“…I love you.”

He stiffened for a moment, but then a warm smile grew across his lips. He wrapped an arm around you despite the objection coming from his wounded side. Pulling you close to him, he presses his lips to your forehead, nuzzling your hair. “I know.” He said softly. “I love you, too, my dear. You mean everything to me.”

[cussima]

Hello. I need your help. I have been assuming I have my desired face for two years now and I didn’t want to admit it till now but I can’t live like this anymore because I had massive glow downs my skin is at it peak worst my face looks really weird ugly and masculine and it’s like completely the opposite of how I want it to be and I can’t seem to let it go. And everytime I look into the mirror I completely stress and freak out because my face seems to get more distancing from my desire and it really disappoints me because I’m actually really good at manifesting and I get everything but this just seems so hard and I’ve tried so much already. I even let it go for 2 months but then I also got uglier. It’s so frustrating. But I don’t want to be this version because I feel like I should have already gotten my desired face a long time ago and I’m really tired of looking at my desired face the entire day and affirming I have it and trying to act like that version. It genially makes my wanna kill myself. mWhat should I do?

I've been through something very similar, and the moment my face and face energy changed was when I stopped comparing myself to other women. When I stopped saying I wanted to look like, let's say, Megan Fox and began affirming for myself; That I was the prettiest version of me, the most feminine version of me. And now it doesn't matter if I dress like JT in 99' because the glimmer in my eyes and how I smile and am, make me super feminine. There are a million and one ways to be feminine, to live concealed by a single version of beauty or femininity is a pretty incarcerating standard to hold over yourself and other women. At what point do you stop living in your own mind jail and allow yourself to receive your desires simply because you are you? And I mean, allow yourself to be feminine because you decide you are. Allow yourself to be your prettiest self. You are you and that is valuable, you are whatever you say you are. I would also advise you to go to this post I found pretty cool and feel like it might relate to your specific situation. I also think you should work on sorting out your situation: why do you feel like you aren't feminine enough? Why do you feel like you aren't pretty enough? Why would any of those thoughts have enough force to trigger you in such a way you start speaking about self-harm? This way, if these thoughts resurface, you won't have such a horrible reaction to them. Journal this or speak all your thoughts out loud to leave them out, if you have to cry do it, but it'll leave you feeling better.

[awakenedsalamander]

Alright, so I’ve obviously given Mage and Vampire some attention. It’s about time I talk about Werewolf: The Apocalypse, you know, round out the “big three.”

Truth be told, I have kind of a love/hate relationship with Werewolf, though that kinda implies it’s an even split of things I enjoy and things I don’t, but that’s not quite correct.

A more accurate breakdown of my feelings would be something like:

- 60% stuff I really love and appreciate

- 20% stuff I go back and forth on

- 15% stuff I dislike but can tolerate (pretty standard for WoD)

- 5% stuff I really, truly, passionately loathe

And it’s honestly that last 5% that I struggle with most. To be clear, a lot of the WoD games have things in them I don’t just dislike, but find sincerely objectionable or harmful. (A certain Vampire sourcebook, the title of which I can’t even comfortably write out, immediately comes to mind.) But I get past those things, because 1) no work of art is morally flawless, and your tastes as a hobbyist or audience member are not your ethics as a human being and 2) a lot of that stuff is from the older editions and has largely been divorced from the game.

So what’s different about Werewolf?

Well, some of it lies in point 2— there are things in Werewolf that are bad and (barring the controversy of 5th Edition’s lore changes, which is a whole other kettle of fish that I’d rather not dive into right now) are still part of the game. Improved somewhat? Absolutely. But the ugliness of some choices still haunts the game.

The ways Werewolf: The Apocalypse talks about native peoples, from Indigenous Australians to First Nations Americans, is a big example. I don’t feel it prudent for me to go into those details, if only because I think it’s not my lane and voices from those cultures should really lead those discussions, but the game has a very weird attitude toward indigenous groups— at one recognizing their history and the atrocities they’ve come through with respect, while still finding ways to exoticize that history, and appropriate much of it. To say nothing of the ways in which it feels comfortable speaking over indigenous groups, even in matters of their rights.

That’s just one example. There’s the way Werewolf conceptualizes ethnicity and ancestry in general, which is weirdly archaic in places despite seemingly trying to criticize that view. There’s its approach to disability and bodies that differ from an assumed norm, which as many have observed can sometimes come across as genuinely eugenicist on occasion.

And of course, the game is about monsters— you’re not meant to agree with the Garou on much of their beliefs, and you’re meant to engage with those very real issues and wrestle with the right way forward.

And honestly? That last part— the reality of the issues at hand— that’s what makes the bad parts of Werewolf so hard to look past. You know, the other games in the World of Darkness deal with real world issues, but they do so in a fairly abstract way. Like, sure I can and do identity the Technocracy of Mage with destructive and cruel systems of power in the real world, but like… there isn’t actually a league of hypereconomists using secret math to influence the fate of the world. That’s just an exaggerated and metaphorical way to engage with the problems at the heart of a late-capitalist world.

But Pentex? Pentex is basically real. The Apocalypse in Werewolf: The Apocalypse is climate change. It’s happening now. When the game tells you that you need to Rage against the dying of Gaia… that’s almost as literal as it gets. And that makes its fumbles, its mistakes, and yes, its deliberate offenses, harder to swallow. The stakes are high enough that when things are wrong, it really hurts.

But… let’s also acknowledge: The reality I’m talking about it? It’s what makes that 60% stuff I like so amazing. The lows of Werewolf are hard to stomach, but the highs are just… exhilarating.

Like, Werewolf is a game that says, “You see the state of the world? You see its monstrous past? Its insidious present that only hides the horror? Do you see the doomed future its on a crash course with? Let’s take it, and let’s rip it to fucking shreds. It these tyrants and thieves want to kill the world, then we’ll kill them first, if that’s what it takes. If the Apocalypse happens, it happens on our terms, on the terms of the people being victimized and shoved to the margins. You and I? We’re gonna build a better world or die trying. All our anger might ruin us, but we have to try. The consequences of our actions are dire, but we don’t go down without making the bastards work for it. Not without a fight.”

And fuck, when the game is saying that? It’s priceless.

In fact, this has all been too down on Werewolf as a whole. I want to get my problems with the game out front, just to acknowledge them and keep space for the critique and change that they demand, but at the end of the day, I am a Werewolf: The Apocalypse fan (if one with a lot of notes). I want to do something a little unusual and show you an outline for an Apocalypse chronicle I haven’t yet had the chance to run, to show you what I love about the game.

So, stay tuned for a glimpse into that later— a glimpse into “Blood Ripples Out.”

[saccharinescorpion]

oh christ i typed up way too many thoughts about the Teal Mask story

spoilers of course

TO BEGIN WITH literally everything here has a big ol’ asterisk with “subject to change” attached to it, i was surprised at how much of a “to be continued” ending the main story had and i’m trying not to get my hopes too high for Indigo Disk, but wowzers

Carmine’s line about tourism… i have a lot of feelings, but the one looming over my head like a fucking sword of Damocles is “did the writers not intend this to have as much weight as i am ascribing to it lmao” because it’s only the one line and GOD i don’t want to be the “reading too much into stories for babies” person all the time but!! But!!!!

(recalls the scene where Nemona talks to you about feeling isolated because of her talent and recalls my feeling of “why was this only in one scene where she flatout looks at the camera and says this”)

well even if it’s not supposed to be “that” important-

1) sure makes the TCG Tournament in Hawaii feel even more bitterly ironic lmao (obligatory yes i know the game writers are not responsible for most stuff that happens in the wider franchise i’m just SAYING it’s ironic)

2) GOSH it sure does make those ugly jokes people kept making about Carmine even grosser than they already were (if you don’t know what i’m talking about, Don’t Worry About It)

As someone on twitter said it feels weird to have this sort of plot point after not exploring it at all in the game with the Hawaii analogue. at the same time i do have to wonder if it was a response to working on those games and doing some thinking. Who can say

God ALL of that was for one line

KIERAN!! Okay, i know i’ve been giving Kieran a lot of shit but his plot progression is genuinely very compelling. recent games have been exploring the “rival who feels inadequate” type of character but this is the first time one has gone off the deep end like this, and i really hope they push it into interesting places

Cutesy shy “oh gosh oh wowzers” pre-development Kieran… in the end i did feel a bit charmed by how sincere he is for the record!

but also i’m genuinely so glad he ended up having Inner Darkness lol

Sorry Kieran i just don’t like it when it feels like the writer is trying way too hard to make me say “i want to protect you”

By extension sorry Wally lmao because he really was the ancestor of this type in the Pokemon franchise

I tried not to take the fact that i really didn’t want the damn Ogerpon too personally lol, this is one of those moments where i really had to force myself to step back and remember that these games are not for me, they are for tiny children who often really do buy into the Gotta Catch Em All thing and probably felt some genuine inner turmoil at this

But god like, please. I have my giant puppy lizard who makes vroom vroom noises. Ogerpon you are so cute but we can never have the bond i have with my bike

Kieran falling to his knees after the last battle genuinely got me, so did him punching the shrine even with the dumb “owie ><” gag afterwards

OKAY talking about the battles damn Kieran and Carmine were tough opponents i had to try Kieran’s last fight like three times (admittedly because i was using my weaker Kitakami team but STILL)

Kieran feeling bad for the ogre was projecting “THIS CHARACTER FEELS LIKE AN OUTCAST” and i picked that up loud and clear, and that was good, but i wish they actually… made him seem like an outcast?

Don’t get me wrong, Kieran definitely has self-confidence issues, issues with talking to others, anxiety issues (possibly), and that can easily make someone feel like an outcast

But i feel like there’s a big difference between that and someone (Ogerpon and her trainer) who is actively shunned and mistreated by the people around them, and i was really hoping for that from Kieran

It’s just the Pokemon thing of finding it hard to depict people really being actively malicious (see Penny and Team Star’s bullies and their enablers all doing their thing off-screen and then leaving off-screen)

But it’s doubly weird because they didn’t have much issue with showing characters in this story being terrible (Carmine)

Carmine!!! Her terribleness was genuinely so entertaining, a lot of the time i was simultaneously laughing and thinking “oh people are going to be SO mad”

But real talk for all my love of Girls Who Suck i do actually kind of get where some people are coming from, she is genuinely very abrasive and unpleasant at times, and though i don’t agree at least i can tell where the character hate is stemming from (unlike some of the absolute batshit stuff i saw about Geeta and Nemona, don’t get me staaaarted)

And speaking of… okay i feel like i’m pushing it even talking about this but i feel it would be dishonest to pretend that i’m not thinking about it

SOOOO the “it’s not like i hit him” line… another case of “did the writers intend this to be as big as it is in my mind,” combined with uhhh writers from a different generation than me, let’s say

For now i will interpret that at face value, but like… damn, i don’t think that reads as you want it to especially in a Pokemon game

Carmine pleaseeeeeee say you’re sorry to Kieran in Indigo Disk please please please i know she apologized for leaving him in the dark but my dearest dream is for her to apologize for being so mean to him all the time. she needs to just treat him better in general. please i will forgive Kieran having to apologize for taking the mask if we can do this please

I know i know cultural differences but we already had Clavell apologize for the failures of the school system, this isn’t THAT big of  a stretch

I am genuinely curious if Indigo Disk will pull a reverse plot twist and reveal Ogerpon’s trainer to be a bad person or reveal that he was the one to attack the Loyal Three first because if not DAMN we’re just going to have some flat out evil Pokemon? that we can potentially put on a team with Ogerpon?????

Ogerpon is a silly lil girl :)

I still haven’t done Perrin’s plot lol

[wannab-urs]

In The Next One

Summary/Warnings: Dieter thinks you’ve been together in every past life and he’s lost you every time. Vague-ish smut. There’s a thing with a knife, but no actual slicing lol. Graphic and explicit descriptions of mental illness, drug abuse, etc. Dieter does mild self-harmy things. Implied biting hard enough to break skin during one scene? And as always with my poor dieter baby, suicidal ideation… and more? Idk just be fucking careful with this one. Love y’all. (WC: 1550)

A/N: I went to a Boygenius concert and became immediately obsessed with We're In Love, Lucy's song about Julien. The whole past lives... to be known is to be loved... just the whole general vibe. It immediately made me think of my baby Dieter so here we go.

Series Masterlist | Dieter Bravo Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

Isn't it enough that we stripped down to our skin? Cold and porcelain like bathers in a painting

Dieter wraps his arms around you from behind. You’re chopping an onion to make dinner. He slips his hands on top of yours, holds the knife in your hands and chops with you. You tilt your head into his where it rests on your shoulder affectionately. You let him guide your hands for a moment. He keeps his grip on the knife, but drops your left hand, guides the knife to his left palm. You freeze, forcing his hands to stop.  

“Woah, Dieter. Babe. Stop. What are you doing?” 

“Blood Oath.” 

“Like that weird movie we watched? Son of Rambow?” 

You pull the knife from his fingers, set it on the cutting board, wrap his arms back around you. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles into your shoulder. “Like Son of Rambow. Just want you to know how much you mean to me. Want us to always be connected.” 

You turn to face him, press a thumb into both cheekbones. Your eyes burn and so do his, crying onion tears. You press a kiss to his torn lips.

“We don’t need that.”

 “You could ruin me, you know that? I don’t know if I can ever be without you.”

He pulls away from you. Fidgets with the rings on his fingers. Digs a hand into his hair and tugs hard. You step right back into his space, pull his hand out of his hair and right back around you.

 “Hey? Made for you. Remember?” You press your lips into his scruff covered jaw. Gently smooth his hair back out. Slip your hands over his shoulders and down his back. Pull him so hard into you it feels like you’re trying to mold him to your body. “I’m not going anywhere Dieter.” 

You pull his ugly sweater over his head. Set it gently on the counter. Toss your own t-shirt on the floor. Press your bare chests back together. Let him feel how real, how solid, how corporeal you are. All the way here even when he is not. You keep your bodies pressed together and pull him to the bathroom. Undress him fully and pull him into the shower with you. Forget about dinner and let him fill you instead. 

And I told you of your past lives, every man you've ever been It wasn't flattering, but you listened like it mattered

Dieter taps the ring on his middle finger against the glass mug of green tea in front of him. Chews his lips as he works up the nerve to tell you a theory he has. Something important. You have to know. 

You sit across from him, looking out the window. The park you spend so much time in just visible from your booth. You’re watching a pair of hummingbirds dance around each other. 

“Do you remember the night we met?” Dieter traces the triangle on his forearm instead of looking at you. You drag your eyes from the birds.

“Most of it. We were kind of fucked up, so the details are hazy. Why?” Your finger joins the path he traces on his arm, following just behind. He changes direction so your fingers bump each other at the highest point.

“I think we’ve always been together.” Dieter doesn’t elaborate. You’re used to his non sequiturs. He doesn’t have a train of thought so much as a shipping yard of them. A little maze like. Disconnected. You remember something you said that night. 

“I asked you why it felt like I’ve known you my whole life. And you said ‘Maybe you have.’” Drugs may have made you say it out loud, but you knew then just as much as you know now that you were made for each other. You had always known him, somehow. 

“I think, in all my past lives, I’ve had you and I’ve lost you.” Dieter pulls a piece of dead skin off his lip. Sucks the iron tang onto his tongue. “I think I’ve never known a life without knowing what it’s like to be without you. And I think it’s going to happen again.” 

He knows he’s been getting bad again. He broke your phone. He almost hurt you. He can’t figure out which thoughts are rational and which ones aren’t so he just drowns out all of them with all the drugs he can get his hands on. He isn’t so numb that he can’t see the way he’s hurting you though. He has to make sure you love him. He can’t fucking bear it if you don’t love him anymore. 

You dig a fingernail into wrist, make a crescent shape in the skin. He focuses on the tiny pain, lets his mind still. You press your lips into his palm and settle his hand on your cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere, Dieter. If I left you in my past lives it was all so I could find you in this one.”

Will you still love me if it turns out I'm insane? I know what you'll say, but it helps to hear you say it anyway

Dieter paints a portrait of you. He smears the canvas in cerulean, plum, vermillion. Vibrant colors that match your aura. You find him at the window, forming the shape of your lips with a thumb, brush between his teeth.

“Beautiful.” You whisper it into his neck. Drag your lips down the column of his throat. He pulls you into his arms, spits the brush to the floor. 

“Do you think I’m crazy?”

You look into his eyes, shining with tears but dulled by so much pain.

“No,” you lie. He looks away from you. A sob catches in his throat. He chokes on it. He knows he’s insane, knows he should try the hospitals again, knows that wouldn’t work. It never does. 

You pull him to the bedroom. You kiss the tears off his cheeks. You strip each other bare. You press your love into his skin with your lips, tongue, teeth. With your fingers and hands. You kiss him so hard it hurts. He slowly responds to your touches, the dull ache in his eyes fading to something deeper, open, vulnerable. He pushes inside you and stays there for a moment, relishing the fact that this is the closest he can be to you. You don’t try to make him move. Just pull him even closer to you. Wrap yourself around him and pull him close. He moves his hips shallowly, barely separating from you at all. Grinding into you. He devours your lips, your neck, your shoulder. You settle your teeth into the space where his neck meets his shoulder. Bite until you taste salt and iron. He wraps a hand in your hair and pulls your mouth to his. Buries himself in you with fervor now. Decides he’ll leave bruises inside you to keep himself there even when he’s gone.

In the next one, will you find me? I'll be the boy with the pink carnation pinned to my lapel

You’re snuggled up on your too small green couch. You’d had a huge argument. You had thrown buddha statues and crystals and incense holders at him and screamed that none of this shit was going to help him. He had to take his Fucking Medicine. 

He’d hurled his empty bottles of hydrocodone and oxycontin and xanax at you, like any of those were what he was supposed to take. Like any of that could help him. He’d dropped to the couch and curled into a little ball, his whole body shaking with sobs as he tore at his curls with trembling hands.

You had knelt on the floor next to him, pulled his hands away, cradled his head in your arms. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers into your chest. “I’m so sorry I’m fucked up again.” 

He buries his head deeper into your shoulder. You think he means he’s sorry his mental illness is acting up again. Or that he’s sorry he did too many drugs again. 

He means he’s sorry he came out wrong in this life just like all the other ones. You were made for him, but maybe he wasn’t made for you. Not this time and not all the times before and he won’t be next time and he can’t fucking take it. 

You climb up behind him. Press his deteriorating frame against you and try to pour all your love into him. Try to put him back together. You whisper to him about how much he means to you. That you won’t leave him. That you love him and just want him to feel better. 

He can’t be better though.

“I’ll try harder in the next life. I’ll try to be okay next time. I’ll be so good for you.”

“I’ll find you.” A promise you seal with a kiss to the crown of his head. If he finds you in the next life, you’ll take him as he is. You love him now and you always will. 

You drift off to sleep with your lips pressed into his hair. His breathing slows and slows and slows. 

I could go on and on and on and I will Go on and on and on until It all comes back

----

Series Masterlist

[chaifootsteps]

Studio Anon here, after a while of lurking/doing my own thing. Luckily my emotions are much more in check and I’ve strayed from Viv stuff for a bit to relax and hang out with my loved ones! Coming back and seeing Viv throwing a hissy fit, Raph wanting to look/act like Angel (my goodness-), and somehow people still defending episode four is… really comedic, actually.

Everything is awful but man, somehow it just keeps getting worse!

Anyway, just writing my own general feelings on this and the ideas I had for a rewrite long before everything went to hell. I never really was interested in HH until maybe Helluva Boss’ trailer dropped. I found it strange that HH wasn’t even out yet but somehow this ‘spinoff show’ was already made and posted in the public. I thought it was really weird tho, considering HH is owned by a company now, technically, while HB is sorta just there? I only watched since it’s animation and I felt like I had to support it.

Buuuut the longer I had to stare at HB’s ugly designs (and seeing the new ones for HH) I simply wasn’t interested anymore.

I guess I dodged a bullet because jesus it just gets worse.

I don’t know how, genuinely, Viv is a shit artist and writer? She went to a prestigious art school for as far as I remember and got her shows made and animated. I’m studying myself, and god knows I’d want my stories out there! It’s clear that Viv has some idea of what she wants to do, but that’s the thing-,

All she had were concepts (also publicly displaying her fetishes in the public, which is also its own can of worms).

I know in my right mind I couldn’t send people out to work on my stories since they’re heavily in development- even then my character designs are complicated as shit so I wouldn’t dream of anyone animating. Viv’s style being the way that it is + her general palettes being Just Red makes it hard to focus on or do anything with.

I also don’t know how Viv is able to just show off her rape fantasies out there and I’d rather not talk about it (sex-repulsed and all), but the general lack of focus and priority in gay ships is really disgusting.

So, as a writer, I made a general outline of what I’d make Hazbin Hotel and/or Helluva Boss be about.

Redemption is an easy theme to work on for both. ‘Sins of the father’ as a trope could work too. I’ll just use HH for now, as this post would be lengthy should I cover both.

General worldbuilding; due to Lucifer’s habit of toying with human life, comparing them to nothing more than insects, God punishes him and Lilith (who could’ve been some kind of angel too? I know she’s from a different religion entirely, so let’s say she was a random angel) by sending them to Hell to deal with the worst sinners. He and the princes of hell (how do they not address this in Hazbin?), scorned and disgusted by Heaven, try to be controlling over their own citizens. Mimicking/acting out their anger towards God by playing God in their own rings. They’re evil and horrible leaders. Lilith makes Hell feel like a home for her and Lucifer at least, bearing a daughter to restore some humanity within the Pride ring.

So Pride, at least, is less threatening now that Lucifer has a daughter.

The other princes could then ‘rightfully’ call out Lucifer’s behavior, maybe serving as some antagonists for Charlie as she tries to convince them to bring their sinners in for redemption.

So TLDR; the princes and Lucifer have internal problems that Charlie would try and resolve somewhat since she believes in redemption.

Going off to the main story, Charlie is told of Heaven being evil and awful for what they’ve done to her parents and believes it until she meets V (or Ex-Overlord Vaggie in this rewrite). V was recently cast out of the other Vs and was maybe slated to die in the extermination until Charlie unknowingly saved her from her fate. Maybe we could even get a hint of V being an angel/exterminator before with one hesitating to kill her off. The two talk and when Charlie mentions Heaven being an ass, V could tell Charlie about Heaven being good, eventually causing Charlie to start thinking about redemption, and start the hotel.

V is given more thought in the story as Charlie’s love interest and the gateway to her learning more about the two sides. Charlie is so used to Hell being the way that it is that she never considered redemption until she hears and talks to V more. The two try and kickstart some sort of redemption but V is hesitant in getting redeemed and asks that, since Charlie is the princess of hell, they could ask Lucifer for a sinner or two to redeem.

Very loose from here, but after some talk, Lucifer gives them a rundown hotel to make their own, the Vs find out and gets Lust Sinner Angel down to take them out, but is charmed by the idea of redemption. Nifty, Alastor, Husk, and Sir Pentious are all from different rings and it takes Charlie a lot to convince the princes and to try and reconnect them to Lucifer, who seems to be caught off guard with how much Charlie is willing to give this a shot. Lilith on the other hand gets suspicious of V, which could lead to Lilith exposing V of being an exterminator and, “Messing with our daughter’s head so she’ll get killed in the next extermination!”

So drama with the parents, the princes, and struggles with redemption.

It all crashes down on Charlie and the Hazbin crew as they’ve began to grow closer on one another, V especially. The other princes could then be more empathetic (they aren’t as prideful as Lucifer, and Lucifer might love his wife more than his kid tbh) and try to reconnect with Lucifer in the same way Charlie connects to the other ring sinners.

Slowly but surely, the crew better themselves, and before the next extermination, the Angel Gabriel (ain’t he the whole Angel with the flaming sword?) flies down to see Charlie doing her best. Drama here, tension there, V is the first to get ‘redeemed’. Uh oh, angst!

V, after all this time, doesn’t want to be redeemed if that means she can’t stay with Charlie, which is why she was hesitant. Lucifer and the sins come in, try to kill Gabriel or something and there’s signs of a war, but Charlie stands her ground and tries to find some way to get both sides to work together on something, at least.

So. Purgatory.

I haven’t been mentioning Lilith much but she very much loves her daughter, and having enough pride in her (Charlie) ideals to make things better, to give people a chance at redemption, reminds her of her angel days. That peaceful life.

So she agrees.

The Hazbin crew get to work with her in purgatory, V gets to be all happy and cute with Charlie, and everyone learns to try and be better.

There. That shouldn’t be too hard. Maybe a little complicated but those are my surface thoughts. What do you and the others think?

[theswitchsteinenigma]

Yay I spent all evening on a sewing project that immediately was a huge fail and broke and I’ve never been more upset in my life I wasted time I could’ve been spending with my family working on something that now I can’t even show anyone because it failed I’m so sick and tired of trying so hard only for things I know how to do to work out so wrong it makes me feel like I never knew how to do these things in the first place. I hate everything I just feel like I’m not getting any better at anything I do I’ve been stagnant for years and in some cases I’ve degraded I feel like after 10 years my art isn’t anywhere near where I expected it to be and it’s just heartbreaking I feel like I’m just losing myself and theirs nothing I can do about it no matter what I do. I feel so ruined I don’t understand why this is happening to me.

well I’ll never have a disposable income so I really doubt I’ll ever make the art I truly want. Like I’ve found every cheap, recycle, accessible method of art supply curation and artistic creation and still theirs just something missing and it’s literally things I can’t afford that would make my art actually professional and I just don’t even understand how that’s the only issue. Like I can make anything out of anything and do so many cool skills I just don’t make things that look brand new and idk I feel like a lot of my creations are ugly it’s just annoying. Even when I buy like high quality fabric my issue is I don’t have a high quality sewing machine I have to hand sew things or just everything else is so much cheaper in comparison to the item I spent the most on that it just feels out of place and I’m just so lost on why people make making things look so easy but the reason their videos start off with a thousand dollar shopping trip of all brand new items it just magically looks a million times better. Theirs very few artist I follow or can find that create with low budgets and recycled materials I do but the few artist that do have a very established art style that incorporates that recycled look very well but makes it a brand new piece in a way it looks intentional. Like I can’t achieve perfect brand new, I can’t achieve artisan recycled, I’m stuck with just mediocre and only the stuff that has the least amount of work and the most amount of just purchased and put together things sells the best but the art I pour myself into just gets over looked or I just feel like it’s not really all that great to show off or like I don’t even want to keep it for myself because it doesn’t look the way it does in my head and I just feel bad throwing things away like I don’t have the money to just throw failed projects away so it’s just this big loop of being reminded I’ll always just be this poor artist and most of the people who buy art from me either feel bad for my situation or are utterly clueless about buying art and I was just reccomended by someone who feels bad for me so they assumed it would be a good choice and then they usually just ask for the most barren unlike me price ever and I put it out and just move along and they’re like hmm this is weird and doesn’t look like what you do because yeah even though I say I can draw anything that doesn’t mean I can promise you something in my style you asked for something you could tell by what I do that I don’t do that’s why it looks weird I tried but you like it enough to keep it just don’t really plan on getting art from me again because idk I’m not the most comissionable person for some reason despite feeling like I could make almost anything I’m asked. I’m just never asked…sadly it’s money related. My art just feels so stuck. Like I pride myself on what I’m capable of with what I have but it’s just alienating and depressing when I’m so over looked because my outcome isn’t brand new finished or perfectly artisan recycled. Too in the middle of those to look genuinely nice.

Do I even make any sense???

Xoxo- Switch.

[avissapiens]

Jockbull Summer Week 1 (12/11/23-18/11/23) - Set A

Model used is Tsonghan Wu

1 & 2.

I don’t typically train with push ups all that often, but I picked this as my personal goal because there’s such a potent jock energy about being able to show off and crank out effortless reps of push ups. Massive high school sports star energy. But we started small. Only managed 22 on my first day. Granted it was immediately after a Push session.

The second attempt however I integrated the competitive element. I went to one of my best friends from back home, K. Total stud who i’ve always envied and idolized. I expect he’ll come up a few more times before this is over so might as well give him some designation. I asked him to make it a contest to beat his score. He hit 30 in one go. I pushed myself so fucking hard because I would not lose to him. I was gonna kick his ass. And I did. I hit 31 and then spent a good minute on the floor unable to get up. It felt so fucking good tho. Increasing by so much. Pushing and winning against my bro. It made my night. 3rd attempt i hit 32. If i keep increasing. Keep pushing. Maybe i’ll get to 100 by the end.

3.

The first step is an important milestone. Obviously as a Self-employed writer/full time student in a different country I don't have a MASSIVE collection of clothes to chuck out (you all can change that). But there are definitely a few that I already know are going to get the boot when the time comes. The reason this one was so important for me and Jockrs is because we both felt that as long as those old clothes were an option, I’d keep defaulting to them out of habit. Over-sized, drab, boring. Hiding the gainz and the new person i want to become. So the first piece I threw out was a fairly cheap ugly grey long sleeved shirt that I bought when I first moved to NZ. 6XL. Bought 3 sizes too big for me at a time when I was 3 sizes too big for me. And as I've leaned down and put on muscle, all this shirt does is wash me out and make me swim in fabric. It had to go. But I still feel indebted to it. It was a go-to piece of clothing on my worst Dysmorphia days when I felt like a fat, disgusting piece of shit. It helped me deal with the anxiety of being in a new place where I clearly didn’t look like I belonged. It helped me hide when I needed to hide. But i don’t need to hide anymore.

4.

Unfortunately I couldn't really work on this as much as I wanted. Jokers was still in exam mode so some of the shared tasks that required him were a bust. That said, I did slip a few more "dudes", "mans" and "bros" into my chatter with gym bros. And I went as far as coaching some dudes through my leg day workout. This is one I'm eager to make progress on because it's so antithetical to what I've always been. My speech has always been a weird indistinguishable hybrid. I’ve been mistaken for American, British and Canadian. I’ve had my voice described as “trans-Atlantic”, Despite coming from the Caribbean. I was always discouraged from indulging too much in dialect and slang when I was young. “Speak properly”. Combined with being fairly bookish and advanced, maybe that led to some good things in the long run. My skill with words, language and voice are unique. They’re why you all love me. But it did mean that by the time I was in secondary school I was a little alienated from my peers. I didn’t talk like them. I didn’t want to either but it was rough always being mistaken for a foreigner on soil you have never left in your life. In a sense, me picking up an even more exaggerated americanized accent is taking that full circle. Developing a bit more control over my speech to inhabit an ideal I have always longed for. Sounds cool, rite brah?

5.

Again, one restricted by Jockrs being in exam mode. I didn’t want to get too far. But we finally watched the first episode of the 2018 series. One of the rare occasions where the dub is notably better than the sub. But god. What a wild ride. 10/10. No notes. It's just pure gas. And that first episode really struck a chord with me. Something visceral about being palpably perceived as a threat. Emanating danger from you that lessers can sense in their bones. Actually being a weapon in human form. I get such a thrill from that concept. I understand why the toxic tik tok gym bro crowd latches on to this show so much. I think I will too.