#like i am saying it as someone who was into those things before it was cool

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi! I recently watched the new Gladiator sequel and I’m so obsessed with the emperors, they’re absolute cuties<3 I was just wondering if you could write some headcanons maybe about being married to both of them, of course it’s fine if you don’t write about polygamy

Have a great day

My freaky gingers! Fred and Joseph did amazing as Caracalla and Geta in my opinion, my freaky little sadistic ginger emperors.

Being wanted by one sibling meant being desired by the other.

Geta and Caracalla shared everything, for nothing could ever belong to one of them as the other was bound to grow envious and want the same thing for himself.

So let’s say you were originally planned to marry just Geta or Caracalla, but the pair would abuse their power as emperors and demand that you were to marry both of them instead.

‘It’s the will of the gods after all.’ Geta would say.

‘And we wouldn’t want to displease them now would we?’ Caracalla would add with a cackle.

You had no say whatsoever but to agree to marry the brother emperors, which many didn’t bother to bat an eye of how curious a case this was, but again they too were under the belief that this was the will of the gods for the emperors to share a spouse for the betterment of their rule.

Both brothers thrive for your attention to be on them and they’d do anything to have it wherever and whenever they can, and all you could do was give them the attention that they so desire.

Hold them close to your chest, cradle them there and let them hear your heart and your breathing to smooth them in knowing that someone did love them, for being there for them as a safe haven from the frequent scheming of the senate and the betrayals and the constant needed to look over their shoulders to make sure no one was going to stab them in the back.

So being with you and held so closely like they deeply desired when before ascending the throne, made it all seem worth while if it meant being gifted the love that they so sought after in those they considered a close confidant within the senate, or just in general approval from the public they rule over.

Marriage life with Geta and Caracalla wasn’t easy, you didn’t expect it to in the slightest as you were constantly seen between the two emperors, draped in the finest of silks and jewellery they could find as to signal your beginning to them both, to show that you were on equal footing as your emperor husbands as your counsel was the one they often followed more often then not.

Does this mean they are rid of the concubines? Probably not and whether or not this was an issue for you is up for debate.

If it is then you’d naturally be questioning the loyalty of your emperor husbands in a fit of embarrassment and shame, not wanting to look a fool within your own marriage, especially not in front of the Roman public nor the senate that would try to whisper words of infidelity about Geta and Caracalla.

‘Am I not your spouse? You forced me into marriage with the two of you and yet you both still seek paid comfort.’ You’d spat as though it was venom in my mouth.

‘My love-‘

You’d glare at Geta who stopped short in his tracks as Caracalla watched you both with eerily silence.

‘If you are to seek paid comfort, then don’t expect none from me should you continue this route of self indulgence.’ You say before leaving the room, not once looking back as you returned to your shared chambers. Again you wouldn’t want to look a fool when your emperor husbands run to the arms of concubines, you were above it.

Let’s hypothetically say you have concubines yourself in retaliation, they’d unfortunately all be dead on the orders of Geta and Caracalla in a fit of rage.

Your marriage isn’t pretty nor romantic in the slightest, and I’m not trying to make it out to be like that, just only that your marriage to them both could be full of hypocrisy and jealousy and sometimes accusations of cheating would arise also as a result.

It’s a mess and wouldn’t get sorted unless your three are clear headed and clam enough to talk it out like healthy lovers should. And when it does get sorted, you all act as though everything that had come to this point of peace didn’t happen at all, as soon enough you were back to holding the emperor brothers again your chest as they slept.

Due to being their spouse you naturally had a target on your back, so it would be of no surprise that you were to be the intended victim for an assignation attempt by shadowy figures hiding their identities in the background.

Shadowy figures that wanted you dead as to kill any sort of morale the emperor brothers had by taken what’s theirs.

Let’s say you survive the attempt, make no mistake that your emperor husbands would be by your side immediately, anger and fury written as clear as day across their faces as they had you pressed between the two of them, they’d whispered hushed words into your ears about finding who did this to you and killing them publicly to show their intolerance to attempts on their spouse.

Your emperor husbands would make sure you were constantly guarded no matter what afterwards, killing those who didn’t do their duty and replacing them with new guards that would keep you safe when they were with the senate, or in the study.

They become insufferably clingy and overprotective afterwards that it felt suffocating to be in the same room with them being so close to you, it was overwhelming and they’d even have people test whenever or not your drink and or food was tampered with as extra precaution.

You understood their worries to an extent but if it’s been a good while since the attempt, then you find it unnecessary to continue such tight and overbearing conditions they had put in place. So it’s best to speak with them about that for paranoia had overtaken them both with the ideas that you’d be killed or taken even if they were to even dare blink.

Being married to Geta and Caracalla was chaos incarnate, discord and mayhem disguised in gold, jewellery and expensive silks and lavished lifestyles; a perfect facade to cover the true nature of their own unravelling beneath the mask they’ve made to get by as rulers of a powerful empire ever known.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nikolai with body dysmorphia who puts on an excellent front. So much so that Price doesn't even realise until the only way they ever have sex is by Nik giving him a hand job or mind-blowing head. He's amazing at it; the way that bastard touches, the things he can do with his tongue. He's hard to resist. But Price notices pretty quickly that Nik always shirks Price returning the favour.

"Ah, I am tired, John. Let's go to sleep."

"Let me show you this video of a cat falling off a coffee table..."

"Would you like a burger? I think we should have a burger. Be right back."

"You know, that was enough for me. I came in my pants like a boy. Ha. Embarrassing." He didn't.

Price is damn frustrated because getting Nik's kit off has been his wet dream for years, and he's clearly packing a serious weapon in those Levi's. Price wants to choke on the bloody thing. But when Price tries to persist, maybe even almost losing his temper with it, Nik gets defensive and jittery. A crack in his bravado. His eyes slide left and right, like he's looking for an exit, and then he stands there looking worried as Price reaches for him.

"Is it me? Does me touchin' ya put you off?"

"Nyet, John."

"Well then, let me... Wanna touch ya, Nik. Wanna make you feel good. Can see how hard you are."

Nik is so tense, his jaw tight to the point of creaking, his eyes wide, as Price undoes his belt. The huge bulge that was there only moments before as Nik sucked Price off completely disappears. Like someone had chucked a bucket of cold water over Nik's head.

Nik's embarrassed, quickly backing away, muttering about promising Laswell he would send some information through, and then he all but runs from Price's flat, fumbling with his jeans to do them back up.

Nothing Price says can stop him. He can only stand there, watching Nik's hunched shoulders, feeling like he's a been a twat but not quite understanding why. Price has no experience with anything like it, but he knows he's got to be gentle; Nik's clearly hurting in some way and Price needs to figure out how to help.

[chaoticwriting]

YOU ARE MARRIED??!!

-Wayne Manor, Gotham-

Cass is not having a good time. From the Arkham breakout last week all the way to losing a bet with his siblings on who is going to attend the gala with Bruce. And now this annoying lady kept asking her about her preference in men or something. And Bruce can't help her since he is being occupied by those rich assholes about investment or stuff.

Vicky: So, Miss Wayne. Is it true that you have a secret boyfriend?

Cass: No.

Vicky: Then how about that pict-

Cass: I'm already married.

Vicky blue screened as Cass finished her sentence. Cass takes the chance and slips away from her before she starts barraging her with questions. Revealing that she is married may not be the smartest thing she has done but she is very annoyed at people who keep asking her about her secret significant other. If they want to ask, at least use the proper term.

Just as Cass reaches the hallway, she is scooped up by two strong arms and is carried away to the Batcave. Cass looks to her side to see Dick and Jason both holding one of her arms each and looking very pissed. Well, Dick looks very pissed. Jason looks like he is having fun. Cass doesn't struggle and just lets her brothers carry her to the Batcave to have the talk.

They put Cass on the couch and proceed to guard the exit of the cave on the off chance that she decides to escape. Not that she would because she and her husband have been thinking of breaking the news to their respective family for awhile now.

She waited for a few hours while playing on her phone. Her main phone. Not the one she used to contact her husband since this family has a lot of competent hackers. She knows that being married is like a big deal. But she doesn't expect it to be such a big deal.

When she says everyone is here, she means everyone. From all his close family all the way to Selina (Bruce's fiancee), Roy (Jason's boyfriend), Kori (Dick's wife), Kon (Tim's boyfriend), Jon (Damian's bff) and even Harley and Ivy is here. She is also pretty sure that Clark is listening from somewhere but it's not like she is trying to keep it a secret anymore, so the more people there are the less she needs to explain.

Harper: So what are we here again? I would rather be home to polish my new gun than in this cave.

Dick: Since everyone is here, I would like to apologize for calling all of you in such short notice.

A murmur ranging from 'it's fine' all the way to 'I want to sleep' sounded in the room.

Dick: Anyway, let's get to the main topic shall we. For starters, I would like to say that none of us wishes to control who you dated nor who you choose to be your partner.

Some more murmurs sounded in the room.

Dick: HOWEVER! We would really appreciate it if you wish to marry someone, at least notify one of us since being married is a big deal.

More murmurs sounded as all of them have a rough idea on what the topic going to be.

Dick: So, the person in question, would you like to explain yourself?

A spotlight lights up on top of Cass, directing all the people's attention to her. She doesn't even know there is a spotlight installed in the cave.Cass stands up and looks at the crowd. She replies, "No."

Everyone is stunned by her reply. They expect many types of replies but no is certainly not one of them.

Tim: Fuck you mean no?

Alfred: I would prefer this conversation to remain civil and proper please master Timothy. I would also like to express my extreme displeasure at the fact that I am not notified by your marriage Mistress Cassandra.

Cass goes still at Alfred's sentence. Okay, shit is really serious. As much as she loves messing with them, she would rather not have her food burnt on the inside. (No one knows how Alfred manages to do that.)

Cass: Ehem, I'm just messing with you. It is a long story but to make it short, my husband and I met when we were in Hong Kong. We met after he got roped in one of the gangs that I was busting. After we met and a little misunderstanding, he helped me to dismantle the underground drug labs across Hong Kong.

Tim: So he is also a vigilante?

Cass: Ex-vigilante. He has a daughter now so he is taking care of her.

Dick: You get pregnant?!! How? When?

Cass: I did not get pregnant. But she is technically my daughter.

Jason: Like how Lian is with me?

Cass: No. Biological daughter.

Kon: Umm, guys. I think Bruce needs to rest a little. His heart has been beating a little too fast for even him.

Dick and and Tim are closest to Bruce realizing that Bruce's face has been impossibly pale for quite a while now. They take him to an empty couch and let him lay there and rest for a while. Everyone's reactions range from amused to straight up concerned that Bruce's career as Batman might get cut short today.

It takes a while but as soon as Bruce is fine, they continue another round of questions and answers.

Bruce: How long have you been married?

Cass: Next week is our 3rd anniversary.

Duke: Wait. Didn't you plan to go to Hong Kong for some time next week? You even ask me to cover your patrol because you say you need to go somewhere.

Cass: I don't lie. I missed last year's anniversary since there was an Arkham breakout at the time.

Duke: Dude, still not cool. You are going on a date with your husband while I need to spend hours running on top of buildings around Gotham. So not fair.

Jason: Was the present you asked me to send last year also was for your husband?

Cass: Yes.

Jason: I've been your middle man all this time and I don't even know.

Barbara: I found it! This is the registration for marriage between Cassie Cain and Daniel Fenton. You used a fake name?

Cass: Yes. You will know otherwise.

Bruce: Why do you hide it?

Cass: I'm not sure all of you are gonna like him and vice versa.

Dick: Is he a bad person? I will kill him if he treats you badly.

Cass: No. He doesn't trust all of you at first.

Steph: And why is that?

Cass: He thinks the Justice League is working with the government. So by extension, all of you are associates of government to him.

Steph: Why is he running away from the government? Is he a criminal?

Barbara: No. He doesn't have any criminal records in his name. Except for the fact that he is practically nonexistent before he is 18, there is nothing wrong with him.

Tim: Is it a forged identity then?

Cass: No. The government wiped away his records.

Dick: What? Why?

Cass: I don't know.

Damian: I expect you to at least do a background check on someone before marrying them, Cain.

Dick: Did you get married with someone you barely know? Do you understand how dangerous that is? What if he just dipped you after you got married?

Cass: *Rolls her eyes* He isn't a bad person. I make sure of that at least. I know he is some sort of meta tho-

A green portal suddenly appears out of thin air making everyone be on guard except Cass. She expects Danny to come out of the portal to greet her but what comes out baffled her.

A young girl that looks a little like Cass riding on a big wolf comes out of the portal swiftly towards Cass. Everyone is just about to shoot their weapons when the girl's word shock them.

???:Mama!

Everyone: Mama?!!

[faygosoda]

Angst w hyun-ju? Where reader gets attacked really badly during the special game and hyun-ju couldn't protect reader. Hyun-ju is like really worried because reader is like kinda on the verge of bleeding out and dying

A/N: Oh yeahh my first req!! I hope I did this justice n Im sorry if she comes off as ooc!!

Title: So Much Lost

“Fuck..” you mumbled, hand holding your side as you stumble into one of the beds, tears welling in your eyes.

Stupid games, stupid debt, stupid bob having druggie stabbing you with the fork..

You held back a groan as your knees became weak, left hand bracing yourself on the post of the bed.

You didn’t want to worry the others with this but considering the fact that you were on the verge of passing out and bleeding (which was such a lame way to go), you would have no choice but to tell someone..

Something just always had to go wrong in your life- family abandoning you, forcing their debt on you, a fuck ass love life, and more AND now you have a stab wound.

Great. At least I’m away from the others.. this would just cause more pani-

“(Name)?…. Holy shit-“

Fuckkkk, of course Dae-ho found you.. always the one to search and help those in need.

“Dae-ho listen don’t go and tell-”

“Like hell I won’t!” He runs off as you groan your left hand which wasn’t currently putting pressure on your side slapping your forehead.

Multiple rushed footsteps are heard from god knows where.

“(Name)!”

“Oh my goodness-”

“Everybody move out the way!”

Blah blah lots of talking lots of worry and concern from who knows who..

You didn’t really pay attention to who was saying what besides one voice that belong to the one person you had came to admire the most throughout the days of being here.

“Hyun- Hyun-Ju..”

It was a quiet mumble but able to be heard from her attentive ears.

“I am right here (Name), stay awake for me okay? Who did this to you?”

Her words were shakey along with her hands that came up to sit you up as.. Gi-Hun? Yeah, Gi-hun and some of the others rushed around to find stuff that could possibly help.

“That- uh.. that one guy with the bob who w- was with the purple h- haired dude..”

I groan out, glancing down at the red spot that progressively got bigger, soaking through the fabric of my tracksuits zip up and onto my hand.

“Son of a bitch..” Hyun-Ju mumbled, tears evident in her eyes.

“D- definitely..” I slur, head falling back as my eyes close before a hand comes to my chin, making my eyes re-open.

“No. Keep your eyes open and look at me. Do not go to sleep.” Her hand hold your chin, turning it her way and you can’t help but look at her adoringly, eyes half lidded and a strained smile on your face.

“I.. I can’t- it hurts so much- I’m- I’m sorry I should’ve listened to- to you..” A choked sob comes from you, tears slipping down your face.

“Stop it- (Name), stop don’t apologize please do not- I can’t lose you too!” Hyun-Ju’s words are rushed yet quiet.

‘I can’t lose you too!’ Oh right, Young-Mi.. shot dead after the third game. One of the many people Hyun-Ju has lost besides her family and well.. now you

Your hands move up to hold her cheek and her hand that held your chin as your vision blurred, colored shapes of those who you now considered your friends gathered around the bed you sat up on.

“Young-Mi’s right.. you’re beautiful. I’m sorry I didn’t say so earlier.. you make me nervous. Hyun-Ju, you- you have to make it out for- for me.. please Hyun-Ju.. Don’t let me hold you back.” You spoke quietly, eyes lidded to the point your lashes blocked view of the womans face that had tears falling down her cheeks.

Hyun-Ju nods, face leaning into your touch as she cries, shoulders shaking.

“I promise you I- I will (Name). For- for you.”

You smile, breath slowing down and a meek sound comes from your throat.

The last thing you hear are her sobs which continue to go on for who knows how long.

The only thing that riddles your mind is ‘what would have happened if we met under different circumstances?’

The end!

A/N: Hi guys thanks for reading that oneshot! I hope it was okay n I hope u liked it😇 I #hateangst cuz wdym that bob ho killed us I js wanna chill w my wife😢💔 SORRY THAT ITS SHORT, I WAS LWK BLANKING BUT FOR THE NEXT FF ILL TRY MY BEST TO MAKE IT LONGER!!

Btw pls send in my requests cuz this saved me from boredom💋

[vaquerolvr]

so… if we have your sexuality hcs what about their types?

(and maybe how would they approach their future s/o? maybe with a letter or just straight up “i like you”)

hope you’re doing good and staying hydrated

-🍂

i tried to focus on personality rather than physical appearance so idk if it’s exactly what you wanted. sorry if it sucks, i am trapped in a car again. Free Me.

price

his type

dilf/milf enjoyer

he wants someone who’s caring but also independent

who can handle themselves when he runs off on missions for weeks at a time

how he’d ask you out

is weirdly blunt about it

sounds like he’s negotiating a business deal

(the overly formal language is to hide that he’s nervous)

gaz

his type

people who don’t take things too seriously

carefree but not childish yknow?

how he’d ask you out

smooth af

has you laughing and blushing so much that you don’t even realize you’ve agreed to anything

until you’re alone later and you’re like “wait did he mean a friend date or a Date-“

ghost

his type

not picky about appearances, focuses more on personality

someone who has their shit together because he definitely doesn’t

how he’d ask you out

doesn’t

bottles his feelings up until he dies

being serious, it would take literal years because even if you were giving him the clearest signs that you like him, he’d still gaslight himself into thinking you’re not attracted to him

it would probably take one of the guys pushing him into it and he’d be fully expecting you to reject him

soap

his type

women who look like they can kill him

most important thing for him is hygiene/self-care

not necessarily a bodybuilder,, just like someone who takes care of themselves

idk how to explain this

how he’d ask you out

just blurts it out randomly

you don’t take him seriously at first

so he gets friend-zoned like ten times before you realize he’s serious and go out with him

alejandro

his type

i hate to say it but he’s definitely one of those guys who likes to be coddled

so someone who’s caring and affectionate (and clingy, like him)

how he’d ask you out

surprisingly sweet about it

he falls hard and fast and he doesn’t want you to underestimate how much he cares about this/you

he’s a fan of big gestures

so he brings mariachi and one of those big ass bouquets to your house

rudy

his type

just,,, someone who’s not dumb

he deals with alejandro’s antics enough

he just wants someone with common sense

how he’d ask you out

i think he’s a bit old fashioned

so he spends weeks ‘courting’ you before actually making a move

similar to alejandro but he does it somewhere private so there’s no pressure (or nosy neighbors recording)

graves

his type

emotionally vulnerable people who rely on him

WHAT WHO SAID THAT

tbh i don’t think he has a ‘type’

he just likes what he likes

but if he had to pick, he prefers partners with experience

how he’d ask you out

again: doesn’t

you just wake up one day and realize you’ve been dating him for the past two years

makarov

his type

confidence

doesn’t care what you look like, having a confident demeanor is enough to catch his eye

how he’d ask you out

kidnapping someone counts as asking them out, right?

keegan

his type

alternative fashion (specifically goths)

personality wise, someone who’s not afraid to call him on his shit/speak up in general

how he’d ask you out

nothing fancy, just casually asks one day

is really nonchalant about it but nearly throws up from excitement when you say yes

nikolai

his type

he needs someone who matches his freak

and by that i mean, someone who won’t even blink if he comes home with 5 stray cats one day

so just someone who’s generally chill and laidback

how he’d ask you out

hear me out-

you spend months agonizing over whether you’re just friends or if he likes you

and when you finally ask him, he’s just “wdym do i like you? haven’t we been dating for the past four months??”

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Looks like I haven't. Okay, well, let's see. I'll just give highlights, but it'll be long, so let's do a readmore.

So, in mid-2022, I dared to age past about 35 and therefore started withering bodily. Of course, this is partly my fault, because I do not get enough exercise, but also (shakes fist at uncaring universe, pulls muscle in fist) Life Hates Me

So, I started getting muscle pain between the shoulder blades. In my case, this is actually one of those annoying to-avoid-one-disability-you-created-another things, because I've had problems with my lower back since I was in my mid-20s thanks to never using proper lumbar support. Therefore, my standard spot to be in my living room became the sofa that stretches away from the TV, because then I could lie on the sofa and prop my head up on the arm to watch, but that means I spent several years as a recreational candy cane and NOW HERE WE ARE. I remember desperately trying to find a massage therapist that could see me that day before I went away to Edinburgh in August that year, and there was nowhere at all available. I had to get one in Edinburgh when I arrived, which was lovely, but also about £20 more expensive, because Edinburgh.

And then! In November! Of 2022!

I must have wished really hard. Because around the corner from my house - so close I could forward roll that distance, if it weren't for, you know (gestures at body, pulls muscle in arm)... a massage parlour opened.

Except. Here's the thing.

It had a name like "Swansea Oriental Massage" or "Thai Lotus Massage" or what have you (real name not given for privacy reasons.) The kind of name that makes you go "Ah. An independent business, likely staffed by workers fresh from abroad, with a name that implies exotic women to a certain type of client. This may be entirely what it claims, but it definitely Fits a Profile."

And to be clear, I have no issues at all with it being a brothel! I truly, genuinely don't. But for obvious reasons, I do want to know if I'm booking a session with a masseuse or a sex worker, because those are very different types of happy endings.

So Steff and I tried looking them up, which became almost a game in itself. We were like "Right. It has a legitimate-looking website that offers three different types of massage: Swedish, Chinese and deep tissue, complete with a disclaimer that deep tissue is not recommended unless you have good pain tolerance. A brothel would probably use more euphemisms, right? Intimate massage, full personal, that sort of thing. But maybe those are euphemisms?"

And then we'd be like "We have found a review. It says 'Very relaxing, beautiful girl.' That could either be a clumsily worded review from a gross orientalist marvelling about the massage, or it could be a subtle nod to them being sex workers."

And we went back and forth for weeks, until in the end I was like, no, enough. I am in pain. There must be someone, in any brothel, who can give a genuine massage - if you hide behind the phrase 'massage parlour', you MUST get people turning up occasionally looking for a back, neck and shoulders. It's the seamstress/needlewoman thing in Pratchett. They must be able to go 'Tracy, this one's for you.' That's who I need. I need Tracy. I need to be able to enter and go "Trace, what it is, it's my neck - no, no, Trace, leave your clothes on. Or, don't, I don't know your process. At this point I don't care. You know what? You do you. Mash my neck, don't worry about the happy ending."

(Well, unless it's reasonably priced as an add-on. I'm bisexual and I love a bargain.)

So one particularly painful day I thought fuck it, and I rang to book.

It did not clear anything up.

"Hello!" I said, when the lovely woman on the phone answered. In the interests of avoiding embarrassment on all sides, I decided to be Very Clear. "I currently have pain in my neck and shoulders, so I'm after a massage."

"Of course!" said the nice lady. "When would you like?"

"Tonight?" I asked. "About seven? If you can fit me -"

"Of course!" she beamed. "We will see you at seven!"

And she hung up. That was it. She did not take my name, or anything further; there was no indication as to how I would make sure I could, you know, actually claim the appointment on arrival. That was it.

"Hmm," I thought.

And then the phone rang. I picked up.

"I forgot to ask!" said the woman. "Do you want a male or a female?"

This, I thought, could still very much go either way.

"Well," I said. "I don't mind. As it's for getting knots out, I suppose -"

"Ah!" she said delightedly. "A male! See you later!"

And she hung up again.

"Hmm," I thought.

And so it was that I went to the massage parlour that evening, still none the wiser, waved off by my husband telling me to take the happy ending if it's offered, because he didn't mind at all and didn't want me to feel unsatisfied. This was very kind, but also qualifies for a "He's a little confused but he's got the spirit" meme, because I cannot tell you how little I was thinking about sex and how much I was thinking about the Gordian situation in my trapezoids and the way it was making me move like a T-rex.

Anyway. I was met by a lovely man who took me to a private room, gave me a towel, and told me to call him in once I was undressed and settled on the bed. This I duly did.

And then, what followed ended up being an hour and a quarter of the best massage I have ever had in my entire fucking LIFE.

I paid for an hour, to be clear. But this guy put his hands on my shoulders, frowned, said "Hmm," and then proceeded to work me over like I was meat for a tenderiser. It wasn't sexual. I just ceased being a person in his eyes. I was just muscles to him. Flesh to sculpt. I became a personal challenge. I watched as he passed into a state of intensive hyperfocus, time slipping away from us. He was like a fucking truffle pig after those knots, Tumblrs. He found every one. I could literally hear them clicking as he pressed them.

It was also, and I cannot stress this enough, the closest I have ever come to achieving enlightenment. There were points where I thought I was no longer in residence. I think I purred.

Eventually, he remembered the time, and left so I could get dressed. Then he sat me down in a chair and spent a final bonus ten minutes on my neck and shoulders, during which we chatted. His UK name is Chris (it's not, but both his real UK and Chinese names are here redacted for obvious privacy reasons), and he told me all about how he wanted to be an architect, and how his parents were hoping he would go back to China but he likes Wales and wants to stay, and which is the best Cantonese restaurant in Swansea. It was great. Transcendent experience. I walked out pain-free for the first time in months. He told me to drink water because it would remove the toxins the massage might have unleashed, and I thought that is not true, Chris, but I will do it for you.

I got home. "It's not a brothel!" I told my waiting husband and friends. "It's a legitimate massage parlour!"

"Hurrah!" they all said. "Perhaps we should get massages too."

And so, I went weekly. One time he had to reschedule, and so I received a message saying "Hello, this is Chris the massage boy", which is the most endearing sentence anyone has ever said to me, just absolutely delightful. Such a nice guy.

And then, one day, Steff thought maybe he'd go and get a massage.

And; well.

It turns out, Tumblrs, I had drawn a conclusion from too few datapoints; it turns out, Tumblrs, if you are male, in addition to the Swedish/Chinese/deep tissue options, you also get to order off the Forbidden Menu.

I had been ushered into a room where I was given a towel, and Chris would leave and only return once I was under the towel on the bed, so that he never saw a thing. But the first major difference we discovered was that, when Steff arrived, he was taken to a room and the woman who took him in then watched him expectantly until he stripped naked in front of her.

He did so, and got on the bed. She said, "Do you want two hands? Four hands? I can bring someone in."

"Oh," said Steff. "Um. Just a massage, please."

She stared at him.

"But," she said. "You don't want...?"

She mimed, very graphically, the act of wanking him off.

"No thanks," said Steff, voice getting higher.

"No??" she said, dumbstruck.

"Just a massage, please!" squeaked Steff.

They stared at each other.

"Okay," she said after a moment. "Okay."

She gave him the massage. It was very good. He's been back a few times. He's offered the menu every time. Every time, they are baffled by his refusal.

And then tragedy struck after almost a year - Chris the massage boy became Chris the no-longer-massage boy and moved away to Cardiff. Devastating. Horrifying. I was inconsolable for months. Why do bad things happen to good people.

Which meant I started seeing the other workers there. I don't think I've ever seen the same one twice, so immediately, there's an issue of never getting to a point with anyone where they know how much pressure I like/can take or anything like that; but also, every damn one of them has been a waif of a girl I could bench press with one hand with no ability to do a proper deep tissue massage.

Mostly, this has not been a problem. They do very nice massages regardless, though it turns out they really do just wait for you to get naked in front of them, and Chris was very much an outlier in that regard. But a few months back I did get one who checked the file they apparently had on me, and got out her language translation app on her phone, and spoke into it. In English it read, "You want me to go hard? Deep?"

"Well," I said. "Just on my back, if possible?"

Her phone translated what I said into Chinese, for her to read. She nodded, and said something back, and held up the phone.

"My me is very small," it read. "But I will try."

And then what she did, Tumblrs, was channel every ounce of rage and hatred and inter-generational trauma for the British that she possessed in her heart straight into into her hands and, by extension, my me. Have you ever seen someone, like, scrub at a bloodstain that won't come out, and is going to send them to prison? Ever seen someone scrub so hard and so fast and so desperately that they start grating off their own fingertips, and yet they just keep scrubbing? Ever seen someone scrub like their life might literally be depending on it?

How I still have skin baffles me. I'm astonished she didn't buff off every mole on my back. She fucking pummelled me. And the worst part was, she didn't let up once she moved away from my back and down my legs, and I couldn't communicate that she was now going far too hard, because she didn't speak English and her magic phone app was put away, and also I'm a wimp who never tells tradespeople when I'm unhappy. It was an endurance session. I paid her £30 for it, and thanked her once she was done.

Anyway. All this brings me to today.

So I managed to jar my back by falling off a Ninja Warrior cheese-shaped board just before New Year, which, naturally, jarred right between my shoulder blades. Super painful, now passed, but the stiffness has remained and seems reluctant to leave; so, I thought, it's massage time.

And

Well

I think that was the worst massage I've ever had from that brothel.

Not bad as in painful! It was not bad as in "This is actively painful." But it has never been clearer that this girl was a sex worker cosplaying as a massage therapist, and was sort of guessing at what to do.

Like, she started on my back, and normally that's the focus of a massage. I would say you normally get about two thirds of the session on your back. Not so today. Today, in a half hour session, she spent maybe five minutes, if that, just loosely running her hands up and down my back. Just loosely. Sort of skimming her hands over the skin, if you will. A sort of extended stroke, like I was a flighty Thoroughbred.

Then she moved on, whereupon she she spent, conservatively, about TEN FULL MINUTES on the backs of my legs. Some of that was doing a sort of pressing pinch, where she was squeezing big handfuls of flesh. Some of it was a massage stroke. And the rest of it - quite a lot of it, actually - was her attempting that thing where massage therapists do the smacking with the sides of their hands, but she hadn't understood it, so it was actually about ten minutes of being softly but rigorously karate chopped on the thighs and calves.

(No overlapping strokes, mind. I appreciated the transferrable skills on display.)

Next, she told me to turn over, so I did. At this point, she attempted to put a towel over me. I'm unsure why, since I was bollock naked and had been the whole time; perhaps she wanted me to stay warm? I don't think it can have been for modesty, though, at least not entirely, because I KNOW the kitty cat was not wholly covered. I think there was a good centimetre or two of labia poking out the base, two happy little hills, peeping out at the room as the session progressed.

And progress it did, but with one change - she used absolutely zero oil to do my front. From this point onwards, this encounter was was done dry. That is probably making some of you wince, but honestly, it actually wasn't that bad, for reasons of there was very little massaging that actually required it from here on out.

She sort of pulled on my fingers first of all. Really very firmly too, one of them clicked. She started with my left arm, and pulled every finger in turn; then she raised my hand up above my elbow, pressed her thumbs into the centre, and then quite literally punched my palm. Then she laid the arm back down, held my shoulder down with one hand, and then used her other hand to grab my arm at different points to sort of half squish it, half grind it into the bed. And then she yanked on my shoulder, karate chopped a bit more on my forearm, and then that was it for Arm 1. Arm 2 was much of the same, except she added in a fun lil move where she sort of waved it about a bit from the shoulder a couple of times.

Then she went back to my legs. No more oil, so she sort of half-heartedly prodded and karate chopped my shins a bit, but to be honest I don't think her heart was in it by then.

But THEN she had a brainwave, so the last five to ten minutes were an attempt at a face massage.

Except when I say a face massage, I mean:

Well; she started well?

She did the fingertips on the temples, thumbs on the forehead, rotate gently thing, which lasted maybe 15 to 20 seconds. But then she got bored, I suspect, so she smooshed my cheeks a bit and rotated them vigorously like a cartoon character. And then she decided that I carry my stress in my forehead, so she started gently pinching my eyebrows and spider walking her fingertips left and right across them. And then she massaged my forehead for a moment

and then

she went back to karate chopping. On my forehead. Where my skull is. Repeatedly.

And like, don't get me wrong - it didn't hurt. But there's only so pleasurable and relaxing you can find "softly yet rapidly struck on the head in a rain of blows for two minutes straight."

Also, and I probably should have led with this, but she had her tits out the whole time.

Anyway it's my favourite place to go for a massage. I mean I now have to go somewhere else tonight to get my back sorted, admittedly, because I in fact carry my stress in the shoulders and not the eyebrows and they were the least attended part of me. But absolutely 10 out of 10 experience, no regrets.

Search is turning up nothing, but that's Tumblr even if there is something, so:

Have I told you guys about my many adventures with the brothel massage parlour around the corner from my house yet?

[fluff-lover]

Healing Touch: Jealousy

A little drabble inside Healing Touch, but can be read as a stand alone.

A/N: This takes place after reader/Angel and Logan get together, around chapter 6 (it’s not posted yet)

Logan’s not the “flowers and chocolates” type of guy. He was too “tough” for those corny things, or at least that’s what he likes to think.

But you know he can be tender and thoughtful so when you had flowers delivered to you one morning, you didn’t question it. You giggled with excitement as you placed the flowers in a vase and set them on your desk. They really gave the school’s infirmary a pop of color.

You were supposed to help Hank with some paperwork but you were too distracted looking at the beautiful combination of flowers, your belly filled with butterflies as you thought about Logan and how special he made you feel.

The last bell of the day rang and you could hear the kids rushing through the halls. Finally the day was over. You opened the door and looked around the hall, expecting to see Logan making his way to the infirmary. And he didn’t disappoint.

Since the two of you got together you built a little routine: you saw each other in the infirmary after class to catch up, then you had dinner with the rest of the team, and then he would sneak to your bedroom for some alone time. Logan still chose to sleep by himself in his own room, although it was starting to get harder and harder to say goodnight, both of you just wanting to sleep in the same bed, holding each other. But his fear of hurting you in his sleep was bigger, so this routine was enough, for now at least.

As he made his way to the infirmary he saw you standing by the door with the biggest, most lovely smile on your face, and he felt himself floating to you.

“Hey, little angel.” He greeted you.

“Hi!” you giggled and pulled him inside by his arm.

After kicking the door shut you basically threw yourself at him, arms and legs wrapping around him as you kissed him. Logan was caught by surprise but still managed to catch you mid air without dropping you. The kiss was deep and passionate, the type of kiss you reserved for whenever you were alone in your bedroom. When you finally pulled back you two were breathless

“Someone is in a good mood.” Logan observed, panting. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Mhmmm.” You hummed, eyelids half closed, a smile on your face. “I just wanted to thank you for the flowers.”

Logan blinked.

“What flowers?”

You could swear you heard the sound of a record scratching.

“You didn’t send me flowers?” You asked, slowly “climbing” down Logan. He stared at you.

“No, I didn’t.” 

It’s hard to tell what was bigger: your disappointment or his confusion.

At that Logan spotted the flowers on your desk. He gently pulled aside before stomping to the desk to inspect it. You watched him as he looked around the flowers until he found a little card tucked between the stems. 

You facepalmed, how did you not think about checking first?

“To my little angel -your secret admirer.” Logan read out loud, rage building up in his chest.

“I thought they were from you.” You said shyly. “You’re the only one that calls me that.”

“Well, clearly I’m not!” He said. “And I’m not so much of a secret admirer, am I?”

“I’m sorry.” you looked down. 

With a huff, Logan picked up the flowers and walked out of the infirmary. You frowned in confusion and followed him.

“Where are you going?” You asked, but he didn’t reply, instead he kept walking.

Logan bursted into the teachers’ lounge room with an imposing stance, making the room go quiet very fast.

“Who the FUCK sent flowers to MY girl?” He growled before throwing the bouquet on a table. 

You could hear a pin drop. Everyone looked shocked, and some even a little bit scared. After a moment you heard someone cough.

“Um, that was me.” Alex Summers said. “I didn’t know you two had become a thing...”

You thought Logan would kill him. His breathing picked up, his nose flared and his fists clenched, eyes throwing daggers at him.

Alex didn’t wish for a fight, but if it was needed he was ready to defend himself.

“Logan…” You whispered before placing your hand on his arm. You were the only person that could calm him down. Your touch always seemed to ground him. “It’s okay, he didn’t know.”

Logan bared his teeth to Alex as a final warning before turning to you. His eyes softened instantly. He didn’t want to scare you and you looked upset already, he didn’t like that. He walked to Alex, and the young man squared up his shoulders, ready for a confrontation.

“Logan…” You insisted.

“You try something like this ever again and I will end you.” Logan threatened before turning and walking out the room.

Everyone stood in silence, too shaken up to do or say something.

You looked at the flowers on the table, all torn and ruined, and your heart broke.

… you really liked those flowers. 

-

No one knew where Logan was. After the altercation he took off, god knows where, and hadn’t come back yet. The sun was setting and you were worried. You considered calling him, but instead you chose to send him a text letting him know you’d wait for him at your usual bench.

Sitting there you took a moment to think. You were sad that the flowers weren’t from Logan. You couldn’t care less about Alex, or anyone else for that matter. But you wanted to believe Logan liked you enough to do sweet gestures like sending flowers. Maybe he really wasn’t that type of man, and as much as the idea of never getting flowers hurt you, you knew you’d have to get used to it. Logan expressed his affection in other ways, and that was enough for you.

You were also surprised by how possessive Logan seemed to be about you. Never in a million years you’d think he would fight another man over you. That was the last thing you wanted for him.

That being said, there was a tiny little part of you that was flattered. The way Logan called you HIS girl in a room filled with people made your heartbeat pick up. This was enough for you to know you were in his mind, and he didn’t need to send flowers for people to know you belonged to him.

Suddenly Logan appeared by your side and your eyes almost fell out of their sockets. 

He was holding a big bouquet of red roses, a teddy bear and a box of chocolates. You couldn’t decide whether this was the most romantic thing you’ve ever seen, or if he just looked ridiculous. This was so out of character for him.

“What the…?” You said getting up from the bench.

“Hear me out.” Logan said as he stepped closer. “I know I acted like an asshole and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t.” You reassured him.

“Yeah, well… Still, I shouldn’t have acted out like that. I think I was jealous.”

“You think?” you teased, making him roll his eyes.

“I don’t like the idea of Alex, or anyone else for that matter, to swoop in and take you away.”

You felt yourself melting.

“Oh Logan, that’s never gonna happen.” 

“It should happen if I don’t treat you right.” He said.

“What do you mean?” You asked, confused.

“I never sent you flowers.” Logan said with shame, as if it was an embarrassing thing to admit. “And then some random guy does and it makes me look bad.” He shook his head. “I’m an idiot.”

“No you’re not, don’t say that.” you shook your head.

“I don’t know how to do this whole… relationship thing.” He said, cringing at his own election of words. “But I’m trying, okay? I really want to do things right. So…” He looked down at the gifts. “I got my girl some flowers and… stuff.” Poor guy, he was really trying.

You smiled and reached out to take the flowers from him.

“Red roses… that’s very romantic.” You giggled before sniffing a flower and sighing happily. “Thank you Logan, I love them.” You stood on your toes and pecked his lips. He smiled widely, the type of smile that steals your breath away every. single. time. 

You took the rest of his gifts and walked back to his bedroom with him.

Later that night you looked at the flowers on your desk, lit only by your bedside table. The box of chocolates was open and half empty, and the teddy bear was on your dresser facing the wall because according to Logan, “he shouldn’t see what papa was about to do to mama”.

And what a show it was!

Logan laid between your legs, with his head on your chest after some intense love making. You ran your hands through his hair and he hummed happily.

“That was… something.” you said exhausted and giggled. Logan propped himself up and smiled down at you. The way he looked at you made you blush shyly, even after everything you just did. There was a softness in his eyes that was reserved only for you.

“Something good I hope.” He joked.

“Baby it’s a good thing I can heal fast, because otherwise I don’t think I would be able to walk tomorrow.” you laughed.

“Good, good.” Logan said proudly before caressing your cheek. “I know that now everyone is aware that you’re my girl, but just to be sure…” You watched him take his dog tags and place them in your hand.

“Lo…” You gasped.

“That way everyone will know.” He said. You quickly put them on and once they sat on your chest Logan leaned in and kissed you.

Not only were you his girl, but by giving you his tags he was also saying “I’m yours.”

Logan Howlett was your man.

-

Tag list: (let me know if you don't want to be tagged in drabbles)

@starsmoonn

@insanesosciopath

@rebloggingfanfictioninthechaos

@ayamenimthiriel

@charmingballoon

@espressopatronum454

@uncertified-doc

@ltristessedureratoujours

@all-for-kpop

@readerofwords616

@tezooks

@tomhockstetter7-111

@meetmypointlessaddiction

@mostly-marvel-musings

@jules-and-gemss

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[crownmemes]

Questioning Sentences, Vol. 38

(Questioning sentences from various sources to ask all kinds of muses. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"You don't know much, do you?"

"Don't you have a car of your own?"

"How would you like to go on your first stakeout?"

"What would you do for money? What would you be prepared to do?"

"Is your job always like this?"

"Are we drunk? How drunk are we? What's happening?"

"If you could change something in your life, anything at all, what would it be?"

"Will you be offended if I ask you something?"

"Why do you wear those gloves?"

"How is it you seem to know more than I do?"

"What's your favourite book? You do read, right?"

"Why are you here? Why are you not there?"

"Has it never occurred to you that sometimes other people might have something valuable to offer?"

"I do hope you're going to liven up a bit. What is wrong with you tonight?"

"Are you saying I smell like a dead cat?"

"Are you sure those things you saw today were hallucinations?"

"How can someone so smart be so stupid?"

"Do you ever know something and don't know how you know it?"

"Are you questioning your sanity?"

"Why are you so afraid to succeed?"

"What's wrong? Why are you frightened of me?"

"Do you ever have one of those moments where suddenly you understand everything?"

"Would you think it bold if I compliment your eyes?"

"I think it's time we sorted out our problem one way or another, don't you?"

"Who exactly are we looking for?"

"What do you want more than anything?"

"How long has it been haunting this place?"

"Have you any idea what it's like to be haunted?"

"Do you like me?"

"Why didn't you share with me what you're doing?"

"Have you ever noticed that people are getting meaner?"

"What are you doing sitting here all by yourself?"

"Look, are you going to let me in on what you're thinking here?"

"When did you become so contentious?"

"You've never done that before, have you? Taken a person's life?"

"I'm not going to see you anymore, am I?"

"What did you really come here to ask me?"

"Are you sick or something?"

"How's the writing coming?"

"Has anyone ever told you how insufferable you are?"

"You don't drink anymore, do you?"

[lulublack90]

Prompt 5 - First Date

@wolfstarmicrofic January 5, word count 686

Remus was bricking it. He’d been set up on a date with some guy who was Lily’s boyfriend's old schoolmate. He’d apparently only recently come out and the Evans-Potters had decided they would be perfect together. There was a reason Remus was still happily single, but that damn Lily Evans had used those dazzling emerald eyes to trick him into agreeing on this date. He heaved a sigh and drank another mouthful of his beer just as the most beautiful man he’d ever seen walked into the restaurant. The greeter took his coat and led him towards the bar, straight towards Remus.

“Remus Lupin?” He asked. Remus’s eyelids began fluttering as his brain short-circuited. He screwed his eyes shut and shook his head, clearing it of the fog and thrust out his hand.

“Yes I am. Sirius?” He asked, neither Lily nor James had told him his last name.

“Yep, that’s me,” Sirius grinned back, taking Remus’s hand and giving it a firm shake, one that Remus would expect from a businessman and not the model before him.

“Your table is ready gentlemen,” A waitress told them before guiding them to a romantic table for two right in the window. Remus felt instantly more nervous as they would be completely on display there, but he was too scared to say anything.

“Er, sorry, but do you have something a bit less front and centre,” Sirius asked, shocking Remus. He’d expected Sirius to be fine with the attention. He really needed to learn not to assume things about people before he got to know them. The waitress's red-lipsticked smile faltered, but she recovered quickly before leading them to a table in a darker corner. “This is perfect, thank you,” Sirius flashed her his dazzling smile and they sat down. 

“Sorry about that,” Sirius began to apologise. Remus wondered if he was still nervous about being out in public with a man as he’d come out so recently, but no, Remus had assumed again. “There were already a few photographers gathering, and I wanted to actually enjoy our date,”

“I’m sorry what?” Remus asked, craning his neck to see out of the glass front, where there were in fact three people with cameras peering into the restaurant. One saw him and raised his camera. Remus quickly pulled his head back into the shadows, hoping the man hadn’t managed to snap a pic of him.

“Didn’t James tell you who I am?” Sirius asked, his brow furrowing. Remus shook his head.

“All they told me was your first name,” Sirius groaned and massaged his temples.

“Okay, let me introduce myself properly,” He sat up a little straighter as he began what sounded like a speech he’d had to make a few times. “My name is Sirius Orion Black. I am the heir, well, ex-heir, of the Noble House of Black. I recently came out, which is why I am the ex-heir and there are photographers, as this is the first time I’ve been seen in public since all the drama.” He sat back in his seat, his jaw tight and his eyes pinched as though he was waiting for Remus to explode and walk out.

“Damn, that’s a lot,” Remus blew out a breath and started laughing. After a second, Sirius joined in. “If someone had said something I’d have suggested meeting at mine and having a movie night and get a takeaway, less pressure then and none of those burkes,” Remus said, prodding his thumb in the direction of the photographers. 

“That sounds like such a good date,” Sirius whined.

“We can still do it if you like?” Remus offered. Sirius’s face lit up. He jumped up from his seat and offered his hand to Remus. Remus took it, and they ran out of the restaurant's back door. Racing down the street and jumping in the next black cab they saw. Remus gave his address, and then they were on their way. Both of them grinning ear to ear. Remus would have to thank the Evans-Potters, as so far, dating Sirius was thrilling and just what he needed.

[sunny44]

Chapter 8 (Love is in Mallorca)

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Y/n goes to Mallorca intending to leave her life behind, at least for a while. Then she meets a mysterious guy who makes this trip, to say the least, unforgettable.

Next chapter

The tension dissipated slightly, but the weight of the revelation still hung between us, as if a new chapter had begun while something between us remained undefined. Carlos, now fully revealed as the famous driver he had hidden from me, seemed more relaxed, but there was a cautiousness in his eyes that I couldn’t ignore.

We stood on the cliff for a few more moments in silence, the ocean wind brushing against our faces. It felt like, despite everything that had been said, we still didn’t know exactly how to move forward.

“So…” I began, trying to break the silence with something light. “What happens now?”

Carlos chuckled softly, that shy smile I’d already grown to like appearing on his face.

“Well, now you know who I really am,” he said, looking at me with those bright, expressive eyes. “And… well, I don’t know. What do you think should happen next?”

I bit my lip, thinking for a moment. He was letting me decide how we would proceed, something I appreciated but which also made me anxious. What did I want? And what would this revelation mean for us now that the truth was out?

“I think it depends on what you want,” I replied cautiously. “You already know this doesn’t change everything for me, but… you seemed worried about what it could do to what we have.”

Carlos looked away briefly, as if weighing my words. He seemed calmer now, but there was still something unspoken in his expression.

“It’s just…” he started, hesitating slightly. “I’ve spent most of my life with people treating me differently because of what I do. And when we met, you treated me like any other guy. Like someone normal. That was… refreshing. And, in a way, I was afraid of losing that.”

I took a deep breath, taking in what he’d said. Of course, it made sense. Someone as exposed as he was would have those worries. But at the same time, there was something he seemed to overlook.

“But Carlos,” I said, stepping closer to him. “You’re not just the Formula 1 driver. I know that now, but to me, you’re still the guy who showed me Mallorca in a way I never would have experienced on my own. The guy who made me laugh and made me feel alive in every moment. That doesn’t just disappear because I know what you do.”

He looked at me for a moment, as if trying to process everything I was saying. Then, a light smile returned to his lips.

“You’re different, you know that?” he said, his voice soft but filled with a sincerity that made my heart race.

“Different how?” I asked, trying to hide the shy smile forming on my lips.

“Different from everyone else I’ve met.” Carlos shrugged, as if trying to simplify a complex thought. “You see things in a unique way. And you’re not worried about my fame or what I can offer you in terms of status. That’s rare.”

I laughed, shaking my head.

“Well, I’d say I didn’t really have a reason to worry about that. Honestly, I think I ended up in this situation by accident. I truly had no idea who you were, and I guess that ended up being an advantage.”

Carlos laughed, and the sound of it was something I was beginning to associate with moments of relief, as if the weight of being someone famous was briefly forgotten.

“Yeah, I guess it was,” he agreed, looking out at the ocean for a moment before turning back to me. “And, to be honest, that was the best part of getting to know you.”

We fell into silence again, but this time, it was comfortable, as if we had crossed an important hurdle and could finally relax a little. The truth was out, and there was nothing left to hide.

“So… what do we do now?” I asked again, this time more as a way to lighten the mood.

Carlos smiled and extended his hand to me, his eyes inviting me to take the next step.

“How about we pick up where we left off?” he suggested. “You still haven’t seen all of Mallorca, and I promised I’d show you the best this island has to offer.”

I looked at his hand for a moment before taking it, feeling the familiar warmth of that gesture that now seemed even more meaningful.

“I’d love that,” I replied, smiling.

As we made our way down the cliff to where he had parked his bike, I felt like something new had been born between us. The barrier of secrecy had been broken, and now, with all the cards on the table, I was more curious than ever to see what the future held for us.

The night was still young, and Mallorca still had many secrets to reveal. And now, with Carlos by my side, I was ready to uncover them all, one step at a time.

Tag list: @lieslostinsilence @iloveallmyboys @r4zberrygirl @hoya122 @sid-is-gr8 @marvel-ous-miss-maisie @barcelonaloverf1life @dark-night-sky-99 @willowsnook @thegirlamongthestars

Next chapter

[slaaverin]

I rewatched AYS today, and I keep watching clips, and I just cannot get over the part in ep8 when the producers say they were worried about the show, or more reaffirm what JK was saying when he said they (he and Jimin) were worried!?

Why? Why were they so worried? If they are friends and have nothing to hide, why? It’s such a wild thing to say. Because really all they were essentially doing in the episode they watched was eating, and cooking at camp, so eating again, and Jimin got sick. So what stood out, or worse, what didn’t make it into the show?

https://youtube.com/shorts/JEwKfWQDisY?si=uZ3C4ogYS64vBhGl

Excellent question anon 🤭

I think jikook, the staff, and all of us were collectively worried about this show lol

Maybe it was for different reasons but I think not.

The rational answer would be that firstly the show had no real sense of direction. Jungkook voiced this in the first episodes. Jimin thought it wouldn't even air.

Yes because "they had nothing to do" except quiet moments and little adventures, but also because I think we all *know* that this show would be very tricky to edit properly.

How to show a couple's vacations without showing the couple coupling? Hard thing to do and everyone knew this!

As many have said before me, what was filmed in this show was only little time during their day. Few hours here and there, but most of their time was spent only the two of them. And even then, they were not sure. It was already a bit dangerous. Poor editing team lol

We also saw that there were soooo many cuts, I'm sure of many moments that would not be suitable for cameras, including the moments they turned the cameras off themselves (Jungkook with the bedroom in EP2)

Jeju had also a lot of weird cuts (side eyeing the shower situation) ANYWAY

I think the fact that this show was simply them being themselves (with all that entails) would be quite worrying for everyone.

They did the best they could to make it look cohesive and entertaining, but we know they left many things out for everyone's benefit.

I am still shocked about what they left in though, I guess it is impossible for jikook not to be jikooking so you have to put SOME in but??? It was wild even like this.

To put it simply, I think they were all worried it would show a little bit too much that they are a couple and it did, anyway. But just enough to still be able to deny it. Just enough so that there is no scandal.

Really, poor editing team 🥲 they had a tough job.

Who knows what was left out, but I think time-wise, quite a lot.

We didn't see anything about Tokyo. We didn't see the in-between-activities moments. We didn't see all the conversations. We didn't see the nights. We didn't see all the car rides. We didn't see THE SHOWERS *I will die on this hill* 😂 also the goings and returns home. And the mornings.

So yeah A LOT was left out.

I expected more from the behinds but they stayed on course with them.

Ahhh how frustrating not knowing, right?

But I guess I am also happy that the two of them got to spend time together, alone. Those trips were for them first and foremost before being for the show.

Everyone was on this edge of their seat with this show, and I applaud jikook for playing it cool, and for the editing team who did such a great job even in this risky situation.

But yeah, someone, somewhere at hybe has sensitive content about the two of them, and you can be sure about that.

Much to think about

Jikook will probably tell us more stories about the show too once they are out, and I can barely wait

Until then it's all up to our imagination

(Knowing they always exceed expectations so...yeah 👀)

Thanks for your ask anon and take care 💜

[just-some-random-blogger]

I'm crying. I'm literally crying. Tears have streamed down my face whilst reading this (I think my eyes got irritated when I scratch my eye with lotion still on my hand) STILL IM CRYINNGGG

I'm going to be so annoying, basically requoting your entire fic back to you

And what started as a little crush has grown into a beast with teeth, eating you alive, consuming every spare moment of your life.

.5 SECONDS IN THE OPENJNG SO STRONG MY BODY WAS TINGLING UGHHHHH

You couldn't be sure how he felt about you, [...]

❓❓❓❓ wHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU CAN YOU BE A LIL BIT SMARTER THAN THIS HELLO GAGO THIS IS WHY EVERYONE HAS TO BE A BIT DELULU COS LOOK AT THIS IDIOT BEING LIKE iM NoT sUre If bILl LiKes me???? I will shove your head into a wood chipper

[...] but he seemed to read your mind as well as you did his. He somehow could anticipate your needs, no matter how trivial, and would go well out of his way to ensure those needs were met.

❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗ be so for real. Aint no way you couldn't tell. Is same bill Weasley in the room with us? U are dumb. I hate you. Fuck him or I will

He was also fiercely protective, a trait of his that claimed several more victims than Waylan as the weeks progressed. But for you, Bill seemed to have a never ending well of patience. You couldn't ignore the amount of times you caught his gaze lingering on you, or the frequency he went out of his way to touch you, to help you, to serve you.

MAMA LOOK AT HOW HE BEIN AND UR OVER HERE ACTIN LIKE HE DOIN NOTHING. HELLO??? I HAVE TO SAY I MISS I MISSS I MISSSSSS THE I HATE EVERYONE BUT YOU TROPE 😭😭😭😭 I SHOULD GET ON THAT. GET TO WRITING IT COS OH MY GOSH THIS WAS DELICIOUS FUCKKKKKKKKKK

But you just couldn't believe that Bill Weasley would be even remotely interested in someone like you. Not to mention, the professional boundaries of your relationship were still intact.

While I understand the latter statement

I WILL FUCKING ROCKET LAUNCH NUCLEAR WARFARE YOUR FUCKING FACE MISS ME WITH THAT BULLSHIT I SWEAR I SWEAR

Was it too tight for a birthday party? Too formal? Not formal enough?

?????????❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓ You're going to your bff's bday???????? You can wear a sack if ur chill like that hello??????? NURSE GISING NA SIYA SHES SO OUT OF IT MAMA

“Oh! Bill, sorry. I didn't—” You managed to tear your gaze from his body up to his face, finding his eyes glued to you, jaw a little slack, and the apology died in your throat.

😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃 I BEG YOUR FINEST PARDON. I BEGGGGGG YOUR FUCKING FINEST PARDON???? WHAT DO YOU MEAN??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LOOKED AT HIS BODY AND DIDNT EVEN NOTICE HE WAS LOOKING AT YOU 🫵🫵🫵 YOU 🫵🫵🫵🫵 YOUUUUU ALL ALONG AND WITH A SLACKED JAW WHAT DO YOU MEAN??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!!!!! 😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃

He lowered his hands to his sides, belt still undone.

HE WHAT????????? BESTIE BESTIE 😭😭😭 BESTIEEE BESTIE THE NERVOUS LAUGH THE NERVOUS LAUGHTERRRRRRR I WISH I COULD RECORD MYSELF AND ADD IT TO THIS FIC COS WHAT THE FUCK AHAHHHAH SAVE ME WHITE BOY SAVE ME OR NOT

The simmering heat between you bloomed to an inferno at your open perusal of one another, and you found yourself taking a step towards him, brainless as a moth.

😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃🤓🤓🤓🤓🤓🤓🤓🤓🤓🤓🤓🤓🤓🤓🤓🤓🤓🤓🤓🤓🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗ IM FINE I THINK THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL SHES SO DOWN BAD HES SO DOWN BAD I HATE JT I AM NOT NORMAL

“Happy birthday to us,” Fred smirked, and you swatted his arm before pulling him in for a hug. Over Fred's shoulder, you caught Bill glaring daggers at his younger brother, but he quickly schooled his expression and turned his attention back to his father.

MY BOOOBOOOO LOVE LOVE FREDDIE BOY MY GEORGIE BILL YOU LEAVE THEM ALONEEEEEEEE

You jumped up and started to collect the plates, using your wand to clear away the food. Moving around the table, you reached Bill, who was chatting with Ron about Ministry things. You leaned over Bill's shoulder, brushing against his arm to retrieve his plate, but he didn't react. Didn't even look up at you.

NAH COS I WAS GONNA SAY SHES NOT TOXIC HE STARTED IT HE WAS BEING WEIRD FOR IGNORING HER BUT GIRL. GIRLLLL. MAMA???? WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT. JuMPING INTO HOT WATER IS CRAZYYYYY

Cake was served, and you let George feed you a few forkfuls while you and Fred told a few of your favorite stories from your time together at Hogwarts.

😃😭🤣 MAMAAAAAAAAA WHAT IS THISSSSSSSS. oh but I do I do I do I dooooo love being give princess treatment by my Georgie boy. SPOONFEEDING or forkfeeding IS CRAZYYYY

Then, you filled George's whiskey, careful to pour the correct amount. You could feel Bill’s eyes burning into you, his jaw clenched, and a giddy excitement flared in your lower belly. You capped the whiskey, licking a stray drop from your thumb, and returned it to the kitchen, leaving Bill’s glass dry.

BESTIEEEEEEEEEEEEE WHAT ARE YOU ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN I RESPECT THE HUSTLE BUT THIS IS 😃😃😃 NO FR BE SO FR LIKE I LOVE BEING BRATTY AND INSUFFERABLE BUT 😃😃😃😃😃😃😃😃 IM SCAREDDDDDDDDDDD YOURE BEING SOOOOO PETTTTYYYYYYYYYYYYYY AND FOR WHATTTTTT

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Bill growled against your ear, the smell of smoke and whiskey clouding the air around him.

-i say through a shudder clutching my pearls thighs shaking pussy throbbing mind melted I ain't got nothing else to say to you sir I was thinking with my vagina and not my brain

“I didn't peg you for the jealous type, Mr. Weasley,” you teased, desire spilling through your body and making your thighs clench.

Bestie what the fuck was that. All that for this? LAME LAME LAME I WOULD HAVE EXPECTED YOU TO KEEP PLAYING THE PART BUT YOU HAVE NO SHAME YOU JUST ADMITTED TO THE JIG RIGHT AFTER PRETENDING YOU WERE WALTZING. L MOVE. YOURE BEING SO INSUFFERABLE AND YOU KNOW WHAT AS IM TYPING THIS I realize I have to calm down and respect your game. Its bad game but 👍 you have bill and I don't unfortunately

He smiled, a wolfish, sharp thing, and dragged you the last few inches to his mouth. It was a rough kiss, a culmination of weeks of longing, his teeth nipping at your lower lip, prying your mouth open so he could taste you. His tongue tangled with yours and you moaned, getting drunk off of his lust, his dominance.

I KNOW YOU CANT READ MY MIND AND YOU HAVE TO SPELL IT OUT FOR YOU BUT FUCKJNG HELL FUCKING HELL THJS WWHILE THING THE TEETH THE KISS RHE DOMISNANCE HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BE NORMAL EVER FOREVER???

“Yes, Bill,” you whimpered, pressing your body against his. “Please.”

🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵 WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO- she's me

Having him be so rough, so needy, it made you want to climb him like a tree.

RUNNING TO CLIMB HIM. DYINGGGG TO CLIMB HIM. WOOF WOOF WOOF

He flipped the two of you around, pressing you into the wall, his free hand splaying across your lower back to keep your hips anchored to his as he leaned into you.

I SCREAMED. NO YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND. I SCREAMED LIKE SO HARD. WHAT THE FUCK

“Bill,” you gasped, head falling back as he kissed and licked down your throat, his teeth grazing your fluttering pulse. It felt like he was devouring you, biting off chunks of your rationality, your resolve, until you were nothing but a writhing, moaning mess in his arms.

BEGGGING ON MY HANDS AND KNEES TO BE BITTEN BY YOU SO BE DEVOURED BY YOU TO BE MAULLLLEDDDDDDDDD BLOODD DOWN YOUR FUCKING JAWWW AND NECKK

“But now I know you better, and I. Don't. Share.”

mY STOMACH DROPPPPPPPPPPPEDDDDD MYYYYYYYY PUSSYYYYY CLENCCCHHHHHHHHHEEEEEDDDDDDDD I DONT MIND NOT SHARING YOU WITH THE TWINS I DO NOT MINDDDD AT ALLL

[...] practically foaming at the mouth for him, but he wasn't having it.

PRACTICALLY??????? PRACTICALLY??????

GAGO TUMBLR ATE THE BOTTOM HALF OF MY REBLOG GIRL WAHT THE FUCJKKKKKKKKK SHIT FUCKKKKK IM GONNA CRYYYYY IM SO SORRY I DO NOT HAVE THE WILLL POWER TO GO BACK AND COPY PASTE EVERYONE ONE BY ONE ARE YOU FUCKJNG KIDDING ME TUNBLR FUCK YOUR GLITCH I FUCKING HATE YOU SO MUCH

Anyway ughhh I hate it. I literally put so many gifs 😭😭😭 the smut was immaculate well written lovely. SPITTING?? BITTING??? OVERSTIM??? SERVICE DOMMM YOU REALLY REALLY REALLY ATE WITH THAT BUT NOT AS GOOD AS BILLLLLLLLLLL FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

I'm so sad you Tumblr did this to me I hate it here but please please know I am not normal I love you I'm going to go cry about this glitch. I'll reblog this again if I ever do a reread 😭😭😭😭

Magic Lessons p.2 | B.W.

feat. Bill Weasley x intern!reader

SUMMARY: Things escalate with your boss, Bill Weasley, at the twins birthday party when you plot to make him jealous. But he gets his revenge back at the office.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, jealous!Bill, reader gets a lil toxic, oral (f receiving), age gap, bill is a pleasure dom I don't make the rules, mentions of alcohol and smoking, strong language

>Part One

Things shifted between you and Bill after that night. You were more than just coworkers, mentor and apprentice, you developed a mutual understanding.

And what started as a little crush has grown into a beast with teeth, eating you alive, consuming every spare moment of your life. You had never felt so connected to someone before, so attuned to their feelings and desires, like your souls were tied together.

You couldn't be sure how he felt about you, but he seemed to read your mind as well as you did his. He somehow could anticipate your needs, no matter how trivial, and would go well out of his way to ensure those needs were met.

He was also fiercely protective, a trait of his that claimed several more victims than Waylan as the weeks progressed. But for you, Bill seemed to have a never ending well of patience. You couldn't ignore the amount of times you caught his gaze lingering on you, or the frequency he went out of his way to touch you, to help you, to serve you.

But you just couldn't believe that Bill Weasley would be even remotely interested in someone like you. Not to mention, the professional boundaries of your relationship were still intact.

It had been three months since the incident with the cursed axe, and it was the twins birthday. You hadn't spoken about the fact that you would both be attending the same party outside of work, but the thought made your nerves tingle with adrenaline.

You and Bill had only seen each other at work or during work-related functions. But this, attending a family party, felt like uncharted territory.

Would he be willing to cross the lines of professionalism? You weren't sure. Would you be willing to risk a career at Gringotts? Again, you weren't sure. But every day, it became harder and harder to ignore the burgeoning heat between you, that soul tie winding tighter and tighter.

You were at a standstill, paralyzed by indecision, and it was driving you mad.

The two of you were the last in the office, and you slipped away to get ready in the bathroom while he finished things up. You changed into your outfit, a maxi dress in your favorite color with a pair of heeled boots, and refreshed your makeup.

You did a small turn in the mirror, a wave of insecurity making you doubt your selection. Was it too tight for a birthday party? Too formal? Not formal enough?

Well, it was the only one you brought, so it would have to do. You collected your things a returned to Bill's office.

When you pushed open the door, you found him mid-change, wearing a white sleeveless undershirt and fastening a black belt around his waist, his shirt folded neatly on the desk.

You knew he was strong from years of hard travel, but this. He was lean and toned, broad shoulders with a narrow waist, and even littered with scars from Fenrir’s attack, he was gorgeous.

“Oh! Bill, sorry. I didn't—” You managed to tear your gaze from his body up to his face, finding his eyes glued to you, jaw a little slack, and the apology died in your throat.

He lowered his hands to his sides, belt still undone. The simmering heat between you bloomed to an inferno at your open perusal of one another, and you found yourself taking a step towards him, brainless as a moth.

His hands flexed, then balled into fists, and you paused, a flicker of reality passing through the haze of desire.

“We need to go,” he said, clearing his throat and grabbing his shirt.

You nodded, disappointment setting like a stone in your stomach.

You took the Floo System to the Burrow, managing to arrive only five minutes late.

“Bill!” His family cried, swarming him. But the twins went straight for you.

“Y/n! Look at you!” George gushed, pulling you in for a hug.

“Happy birthday to us,” Fred smirked, and you swatted his arm before pulling him in for a hug. Over Fred's shoulder, you caught Bill glaring daggers at his younger brother, but he quickly schooled his expression and turned his attention back to his father.

The twins introduced you to the few family members you hadn't met, and you answered the dozens of questions they threw your way while dinner was served. Bill was ignoring you almost entirely, caught up in conversation with his father and Percy. You knew you shouldn't take it personally, you were just colleagues after all, but it still rankled, and you could feel an attitude brewing.

Then, a wicked idea wormed it's way into your mind.

You laughed loudly at one of George's jokes, leaning into his side while he gestured in the air. He draped his arm over you, the type of platonic physical contact the two of you did all the time, but Bill didn't know that.

You saw Bill’s sharp eye snag on the movement, and bit your lips to keep from smiling at your small victory.

A few moments later, you reached over to take a sip of Fred's beer, making a show of wrapping your lips around the mouth of the bottle, your fingers delicate on the glass. You set the bottle down, then shifted to whisper something in Fred’s ear, your hand resting on his. You didn't say anything of real interest, just a little inside joke between the two of you. Fred chuckled, turning to whisper something back to you, and you grinned, winking at him.

You risked a glance at Bill and saw him white knuckling his empty whiskey glass, eyes trained on the birthday cake at the center of the table, and your confidence swelled.

“Mrs. Weasley, would you like some help clearing up for dessert?” You asked, batting your lashes.

“Oh, thank you, dearie!” She chirped, grinning at you.

You jumped up and started to collect the plates, using your wand to clear away the food. Moving around the table, you reached Bill, who was chatting with Ron about Ministry things. You leaned over Bill's shoulder, brushing against his arm to retrieve his plate, but he didn't react. Didn't even look up at you.

You huffed internally and brought the dishes to the kitchen, casing a spell so they'd wash themselves. You went to the fridge, retrieving a fresh beer for Fred and grabbed the bottle of fire whiskey from the counter.

You returned to the dining room and set the beer in front of Fred, who accepted with a smile.

“Thanks, love,” he cooed, taking a sip.

Then, you filled George's whiskey, careful to pour the correct amount. You could feel Bill’s eyes burning into you, his jaw clenched, and a giddy excitement flared in your lower belly. You capped the whiskey, licking a stray drop from your thumb, and returned it to the kitchen, leaving Bill’s glass dry.

Cake was served, and you let George feed you a few forkfuls while you and Fred told a few of your favorite stories from your time together at Hogwarts.

You knew you'd done it when Bill excused himself to smoke, a habit he never indulged in at work.

You knew it was wrong to push him, to strain whatever tenuous balance the two of you held, but you just couldn't help yourself. He was driving you insane.

After dessert, everyone ventured back into the living room for games and more drinks, and you slipped outside to find Bill.

He found you first.

An arm snaked out of the shadows and tugged you into the dark, directly into a hard chest.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” Bill growled against your ear, the smell of smoke and whiskey clouding the air around him.

“I don't know what you mean,” you replied, tilting your head.

His took a drag off of his cigarette, glaring at you through the smoke. “You know better than to lie to me,” he warned.

“I didn't peg you for the jealous type, Mr. Weasley,” you teased, desire spilling through your body and making your thighs clench.

His free hand lifted, skimming your throat before moving around the nape of your neck. “It already kills me that they met you first, that they know you so well.” His grip tightened, scruffing you, and you gasped. “Is this what you wanted?” He rasped, his eyes locked onto yours.

“Yes, Bill,” you whimpered, pressing your body against his. “Please.”

He smiled, a wolfish, sharp thing, and dragged you the last few inches to his mouth. It was a rough kiss, a culmination of weeks of longing, his teeth nipping at your lower lip, prying your mouth open so he could taste you. His tongue tangled with yours and you moaned, getting drunk off of his lust, his dominance.

It was so different than his usual professional, collected demeanor. You knew he had an edge to him, an undercurrent of darkness that made him so adept at handling curses, but you never expected this. Having him be so rough, so needy, it made you want to climb him like a tree.

He flipped the two of you around, pressing you into the wall, his free hand splaying across your lower back to keep your hips anchored to his as he leaned into you. He felt so different than the other boys you'd been with, so confident and commanding, knowing exactly how to handle you and your desperation.

“Bill,” you gasped, head falling back as he kissed and licked down your throat, his teeth grazing your fluttering pulse. It felt like he was devouring you, biting off chunks of your rationality, your resolve, until you were nothing but a writhing, moaning mess in his arms.

His hand released your neck, sliding down to grab your waist. “But now I know you better, and I. Don't. Share.” Each snarled word was like shot of adrenaline to your heart, forcing your already dizzy self to clutch his shoulders to stay upright.

You nodded, desperate to be closer to him, to have him touch you. His possessiveness drove you crazy, had you practically foaming at the mouth for him, but he wasn't having it.

He grabbed your hands and removed them from his body, and you whined in protest. “Behave, and go back inside before you smell like smoke,” he ordered, though his voice was decidedly softer than before, almost breathless. He nudged you away from him and took another draw of his cigarette, the sharp planes of his face illuminated by the glowing tip.

Reluctantly, you ventured back inside, your thighs sticky with slick and knees weak. You were so focused on what you could do to drive him mad, you forgot entirely about what he could do to you.

So, you were in your best behavior the rest of the night. Charming the parents, befriending the other siblings, being as fun and social as you could manage. By the end of the night, you were buzzed, socially drained, and unbelievably horny, ready to pounce on Bill every time you caught his eye.

“Alright, we have to get to the bank early tomorrow. Y/n, I'll take you home.” He gave you a pointed look and you nodded. “Goodnight, family!” Bill called, hugging his siblings before ushering you towards the Floo Station.

“Happy birthday!” You hugged Fred and George on your way past, and half-stumbled into the Floo Station from exhaustion.

Bill caught you with a strong arm around your waist and held you up, casting the spell before his family could see how close your bodies were.

The next moment, you were back in the office, head spinning from the booze and the magic.

“Alright, love?” He asked, tightening his grip on you when you swayed on your feet.

You nodded and he released you, leaving you cold and unsteady. You walked in silence back to his office to get your things.

When you arrived, you stopped in the doorway. “M’sorry about earlier,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“So am I,” he replied, walking towards his desk and loosening his tie. Your stomach dropped.

“Why are you sorry?” You asked, bracing yourself for rejection. “I was the one that acted like an idiot.”

He looked up at you, a sharpness in his eyes. “Don't speak about yourself like that,” he snapped, and you nodded, looking at the floor.

You heard the tread of footsteps, then his hand reached out to hold your chin, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. They were stormier than you'd ever seen them, the sky before a shipwreck.

“I'm sorry for being so rough with you, I can be—” his eyes flicked away, brow pinching in consternation. “After the attack, and the war, and the divorce…I can be cruel, angry. It's a part of me I don't like to show,” he admitted. “So I'm sorry if I frightened you, or overstepped.”

“You didn't frighten me,” you said, placing a tentative hand on his sternum, wanting to comfort him. “Far from it.”

He searched your face as you gazed up at him, starry eyed, and the silence stretched for a few moments.

“This is what I saw,” he murmured.

“What do you mean?” You asked, practically trembling with anticipation.

“When you wore the Chameleon necklace,” he replied, his eyes tracing the hollow of your throat before lifting back up to your face. “I saw you like this.”

“You wanted to see me like…this?” You asked, looking down at your dress, confused.

He shook his head, his hand moving up to caress your cheek. “No, not the dress,” he said, so close you could smell the whiskey on his breath. “That right there,” he hummed with a soft, satisfied smile, his thumb smoothing just underneath your lower lashline. “The desire in your eyes.”

Heat scorched your skin and your tried to pull away out of embarrassment, but he held you firm.

“No, darling. You're done hiding from me,” he said, the petname making your pussy thrum, slick collecting on the inside of your thighs. “I've been waiting to see that look in your eye. To see you need me as badly as I've needed you.”

Your heart stalled, your thoughts turning to static.

Needed me?

“I had to be sure this was what you really wanted, that I wasn't just seeing what I wanted to see…” he trailed off, expression softening as he continued to look into your eyes.

“I didn't think you wanted me,” you whispered, in complete disbelief. “I thought I was going crazy.”

“Perhaps we both have.” He bumped his nose against yours, warm breath fanning against your skin. “You've ruined me. My entire life I've been the epitome of restraint. But with you—” His thumb tugged at your lower lip, sending a tendril of arousal curling down your spine. “I can't seem to help myself.”

“Then don’t hold back,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and running your fingers through his hair. “I want you to ruin me too.”

“Sweet girl,” he cooed, feeding his thumb into your mouth. You flicked your tongue over it, tasting the salt of his skin before sucking lightly. “I intend to.”

He surged forward, capturing your lips in a breathtaking, soul-deep kiss that you felt through every nerve ending. You kissed him back eagerly, tugging his hair as he hauled you closer, lifting you into the air so you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Without breaking the kiss, he carried you across the office and set you down onto one of the overstuffed leather armchairs, the same one he conducted your interview in. He kissed you a moment longer, his tongue delving in to taste you before he withdrew and lowered himself to his knees in front of you.

“I'm going eat my fill of you, and you’re going to take it all,” he ordered, his voice rough and breathy, chest rising and falling quickly. “Okay?”

“More than okay,” you answered, nodding like an overeager bobble-head.

He chuckled, his eyes holding yours as he gathered up the fabric of your dress and pushed it up your legs, kissing your knees, and up your inner thighs, his long hair tickling the sensitive skin until he reached your clothed cunt, your white panties betraying how aroused you were.

“Look how pretty you are,” he exhaled, breath warm against your skin. “All this for me, baby?”

You nodded, combing your fingers through his red hair so you could see the lovesick look on his handsome face, his eyes soft and mouth upturned at the corners. It was all in such stark contrast to the brutal scars on his face, silvery in the waning candlelight.

You couldn't imagine someone being more beautiful than Bill was in this moment.

He hummed low in his throat, his tongue licking a stripe over your sodden panties and making you whine, desperate for him to touch you.

“How many times have you orgasmed in a row?” He asked, pulling your panties to the side with his middle finger.

“Oh, uh—” your cheeks warmed, caught off guard by the question. “Only once with a partner. Twice on my own. Why?”

You felt him smirk as he leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your swollen clit. “Three, then.”

“Three—oh god,” you moaned, grip tightening on his hair as he laved his tongue through your slit, flicking against your bud before repeating the motion, two, three, five times.

He nursed your clit between his teeth, lashing it with his tongue and making you buck your hips up, the pleasure too intense to hold still. He dropped a forearm over your lower stomach to keep you from moving away, your nails dragging across his skin as you cried out.

He moved down to your entrance, lapping at the pool of slick there before thrusting his tongue inside. With his other hand, he began to massage your clit with his thumb, the rough pad creating delicious friction over your sensitive skin.

Fuck, you could feel your orgasm building already, a coil of heat making your whole body tense and shake, unable to escape his pleasurable assault with his heavy arm holding you down.

“Taste so sweet,” he murmured against you, kitten licking your clit to make you twitch and gasp. He pulled back and spit on your pussy, gliding two fingers through your lips before easing one inside your drooling entrance. “Good girl, can you take another? I know you can—thaaaat’s it, love. Little pussy sucking me right in, so perfect for me.” He was speaking directly against your clit, the movement of his lips and flick of his tongue making your mind go fuzzy, your body ratcheting closer to release by the second.

He curled his fingers inside you, his lips finally sealing to your clit again, and you keened. Sensing you were close, he increased his pace, ruthlessly dragging you to the very edge.

“God, Bill—shit, I'm gonna come!” You cried, your fingers threading through his in an attempt to hang on while he sent you to orbit.

With a final flutter of his fingers against that spongy spot inside of you, you broke, a burst of dizzying pleasure making your eyes roll back, your body convulse in his hold as your orgasm tore through you.

“That's one,” he purred, only slowing for a moment so you could take a full breath before he ramped up his movements again, adding a third finger to your sloppy channel.

“Fuck, I can't—” you whined, tears squeezing from the corners of your eyes as your body was wound tight once again, helpless as a ballerina in a music box.

“You can. You will,” he ordered, his tone making your pussy clench around his fingers. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? You've got me now, darling."

“Bill, I—” you screamed as he bit down on your clit, sending you directly back over the edge again, your first orgasm not even fully dissipated before the second one slammed into you, faster and stronger, white hot. Like he'd forced it out of you with his expert touch and tongue.

“That's two. Well done, my love,” he cooed, soothing the bite with his tongue and gently removing his fingers.

You were in a daze, trembling and liquified, practically boneless in the chair. You'd never come so hard on your life.

“Ah-ah,” he chastised, reaching up to pat your cheek with his wet fingers before feeding them into your open mouth. “Not done yet, love.”

You sucked your release off his digits, mindless and happy to do whatever he wanted, so long as he keeps touching you like that.

He withdrew his fingers and lowered his head between your legs again, dragging his tongue through your sensitive folds, smiling when you shivered. With slow, unhurried strokes, he cleaned up the mess he'd made of you, making wide circles around your clit to apply less direct pressure and avoid overstimulating you.

“I could stay here forever,” he groaned, the vibration making you gasp. “Give me one more, yeah? Please? Let me be the one that takes you there.”

It was surreal, being completely at his mercy, yet he's the one begging you to let him make you come again. He'd rendered you completely brainless, and still wanted to give you more.

And you still had barely gotten to touch him.

It was the most delicious torture, the most exquisite suffering, and you knew you were so royally fucked.

There was no going back from this.

“Wanna touch you,” you whimpered, too far gone to do anything but squirm.

“Not yet, I told you how this was going to go. One more, then you’re getting some rest.” He hiked your leg over his shoulder, nuzzling against your pussy. “You don't want to be exhausted at work tomorrow, do you?”

You shook your head, having forgotten completely about anything that wasn't Bill Weasley and his magic fucking tongue.

“Good girl. Now relax and let me work.” He lifted you up slightly, angling you directly towards his mouth, and he resumed feasting, taking big, messy licks and sucks of your cunt, the sounds lewd and unabashed, and you fucking loved it.

You did as your were told and relaxed your muscles, sinking deeper into the chair with your legs in the air. You'd submitted to him already, but this was a a true surrender, passing your entire self, body and soul into his hands. Trusting that he would take care of every part of you.

“That's it, baby,” he praised, kissing your sticky thighs before returning to suckle your clit, making your body hum back to life, pleasure beginning to mount once more.

You moaned his name, nails biting into the leather as he brought you higher and higher, his languid, self-indulgent movements making your head spin.

Feeling your body start to tremble, he flicked his tongue out, just the tip tickling against your hyper-sensitive bud, and you rolled over the edge, simmering, honeyed pleasure spilling through you as you came a third time. It wasn't a harsh, debilitating orgasm, but a blissful release of endorphins that brought tears to your eyes, your muscles and bones unraveling down to the cellular level.

“And there's three,” he said, placing a final, tender kiss to your clit before righting your panties and pulling your dress down.

You were completely blissed out, in your own world as he tugged you off of the chair and into his lap, pressing feather-light kisses up your neck and jaw.

“Come back to me, love. Let me see those pretty eyes so I know you're alright,” he murmured against your cheek, his hands absently massaging your thighs and hips to guide you back into your body.

You blinked your eyes open, turning to press a kiss to his scarred cheek, your chest warm with affection.

“There she is.” He smiled, catching your lips in a soft, sipping kiss. “Okay, love?” He asked, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Yeah,” you said, breathless. “That was—I’ve never—”

“You were amazing. And if you didn’t look ready to pass out, I would be taking number four and five.” He helped you sit up, fixing your hair and wiping away a streak of mascara with his thumb.

“Not possible,” you giggled, reaching up to brush the hair from his eyes, your hand moving down to cup his scarred cheek. “As talented as you are, there's no way I could come again.”

He smirked, leaning into your palm. “I guess we'll have to find out. C’mon, let’s get you home.” He helped you to your feet, your knees a little wobbly, collected your things, and led you back out to the Floo Station.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then?” You asked, taking your things from his arms.

“For a bit, but I leave tomorrow afternoon for Cairo, remember?” He looked genuinely apologetic for having to leave, and your heart deflated a bit, disappointed that you wouldn’t see him for a week, maybe more.

“Right, Cairo,” you said, trying to hide how you felt.

“Hey.” He reached out to wrap an arm around your waist, pulling you back into his chest. “If it wasn’t so dangerous, I’d take you with me. But I can’t risk something happening to you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Plus I need a capable curse-breaker to manage things here.”

“I know, I know,” you sighed, nosing into his neck and breathing him in.

He held you quietly for another moment, his hand trailing up and down your spine before you finally pulled back, yawning.

“Go on, I’ll see you in the morning.” He caught your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “Goodnight, love.”

You stepped into the station and grabbed a handful of the floo powder. “G’night,” you said with a sleepy smile, and cast the spell to transport you home.

Though, you realized with a nervous pang, it felt like you were doing the opposite.

Thank you so much for reading!

Comment if you'd like to be included in the taglist for the next part <3

taglist: @itisjustwhatitis, @carmenschemtrails, @karina-v20, @acourtofexiles, @meteora-fc, @l1nd3n, @just-some-random-blogger

[amaya-143]

hello. part two of me ranting about the fear of memory loss in isat. is it that obvious i have autism?

part one was about the kings fear of forgetting. Go read. *clicks my fingers like a cat* go.

disclaimer not a psychiatrist blahh blahhhh u get the idea :p king rant was long, this will be longer. maybe one singular person is as normal as i am about this game and will enjoy. otherwise at least its out of my system and into words

So yeah, the king is afraid of forgetting. Siffrin, however, is afraid of being forgotten.

Siffrin, is late 20s, and just like the king lost the majority of their memories to the island.The people they loved, all that jazz i don't need to write the cinematics again. They too end up in an unfamiliar place, however they end up a rouge. They travel from city to city, never staying anywhere solid, never making any real connections for years (at least as far as we know.) To him, he is just a guy* who lost everything that they knew, and that's that. No point if it'll just happen again. In fact im not even sure if they're aware they're from that island, since I'm pretty sure he learns it ingame. He just exists. Thats it. Their life doesn't matter, doesn't impact anyone. He is forgettable

But then, they meet Mira, Odile, and Isa. Then Bonnie, and when things couldn't get more confusing, he loses an eye for them. The party loves Siffrin, even if they never say it pregame. They appreciate him. And even if Frin doesn't think it directly, they definitely subconsciously believe it pregame. Otherwise, it wouldn't be such a shock when odile says they're colleagues at best. So how can Siffrin go back to his old life? A life on the go, with no connections, nothing but the millisecond bumps into strangers and polite conversations with the clerk at the hotel desk. Nobody to come home to, no one to ask how their day was.

Its like trying chocolate after eating coco beans all your life. Maybe you can tolerate going back to coco beans for a bit, but you'll never forget the chocolate. It'll be something you think about all the time, your thought before sleep takes you, as tiktok would say your 'roman empire'.

So Siffrin cannot let them go back home. He wishes to stay with them. and thus, the loops happen.But after a bit he, quote, 'understands the king more than he'd like to'

He refuses to be forgotten, to have to go back to that life. They've lived the span of their memories being so blindingly forgettable, now someone, some people see them and its so close in his grasp. Isabeau is so close to confessing to him. Mirabelle is so close to her full potential as a housemaiden. Odile is accepting she's more than her roots. And Bonnie, the kid he lost an eye for, disabling him permentantly, HUGGED them. a massive deal for a fella whos been living off small talk and avoiding eye contact for the last 10 years. Just one more loop, if they do it all right then just maybe..

Not here to talk abt the loops. moving on.

After all these people who love him, they don't wanna be forgotten. Trauma isn't just a factor in disorders. Trauma can, and often does create its own reactions. For a real world example, Children who grow up with absent parents often react with avoiding and distancing tendencies, where as children with emotionally unstable parents tend to grow to be anxiously attached to those they love. These aren't disorders, but they are a reaction to the trauma faced and ingraned. Frin's fear of being forgotten is just as much a trauma response as it is a result of the way he lives. Who knows how many people Siffrin forgot in the island. What's stopping him from being like them? What's stopping him from being so forgettable.

Side note, act 5 is next to the Sunny vs Basil fight as my favorite two scenes in games, especially when it comes to imagining/reading about them in other characters povs other than the mains. And bigfrin is my absolute joy in the world. not sorry.

But after loops n loops of trying to prevent it, hearing off handed comments about how bonnie hates them, and how isa will say i love you to anyone except him, Sif's self worth is at an all-time low. They just don't have it in them anymore. They cant do it. we're looking at months of living the same two days over and over. Same lines. Same people. Same events. Years, if you're an insane person who does like 500+ loops. I think most people did like 70-150 though. Siffrin has been reliving this for so long he's begun to find comfort in it. It feels safe. Its boring, its insufferable, yes, but its SAFE. After suffering all those months, they're leaving anyway. They are going home. They will go home and forget Sif and it will all be for nothing. When Odile stops them from looping back, they strike. Either at themselves, or those they love. They would literally rather attack those they've gone through months of suffering just to spend more time with, or attack themselves time after time till it kills them. They'd rather it than risk them all leaving and forgetting him. I don't really have much more to say i guess i just ugh

i love act 5 i love bigfrin and if theres any writers reading this write some act 5 from other party members pov and you will get the juciest kiss.

if you read all this way, congrats!! i diagnose you with autism 💜

*guy is used as a unisex. i know the correct term for siffrin is fella. i went to gender school.

[lobotomy-lady]

How did you figure out you were autistic? I know this is gonna sound ignorant because I am ignorant but from my very limited interactions with those on the spectrum you act pretty differently. You are heavily sarcastic and seem to understand when someone is joking in your asks versus not even over text. Idk. I know there's like levels and stuff but you seem pretty socially aware and funnier than most so now I'm just like what makes you different from a neurotypical? I tried googling about autism and it seems a lot of high functioning people have like sensory issues and are picky eaters but like, is that it ? Just curious

I am not self dx so I never "figured it out", I was diagnosed aspergers (back when that was the dx for high functioning tism) when I was 6, my mom took me to a psychiatrist. at that time I was selectively mute-ppl at school thought I was incapable of speech bc between ages 4 to 9 didnt talk at all except at home to family. I had frequent meltdowns due to emotional regulation problems and also cuz of severe sensory issues (sound, the feel of clothing which led me to wear the same outfit every day for years, temperature). Even when I started talking a little more at school I was TERRIBLE socially. I was made fun of constantly & didn't get what i was doing wrong but they always thought I was weird & they thought it was funny that I didn't understand that I was being made fun of until they started laughing & even then i didnt get what i was doing wrong. It didnt help that i was 5'9 and 140 pounds by age 9 I was very aware I stood out a lot both physically & behaviorally

So yeah like most kids on the spectrum I was bullied relentlessly for the childhood years due to my social ineptitude and general awkwardness & it continued until I managed to group in w/ the other unpopular "weird" girls with bad social skills in junior high. Still friends with some of them. So i wasnt as much of a target then tho I was still gossiped about, ppl started a rumor that I never bathed due to my habit of wearing the same thing every day (I had multiple versions of that outfit but not as if they would know). Special interests were a huge thing too obv. I read probably 8 hrs a day mostly books related to space or when I was younger dolphins.

But anyways, bc of my experiences when I was younger I knew I had to learn to assimilate, or mask as I later learned it was called. I studied that shit like it was my PhD. I learned how to talk enough (but not too much!) I learned how to make eye contact (but not too much!!), learned how to be playful but not be rude, learned to run to a bathroom before having a meltdown in public, learned to buy different clothes out of similar material, to not be seen eating the same exact food every day for months. Learned how to not infodump about an interest unless I knew the person cared about it. I had learned most of this well enough by halfway through high school to stop being seen as a total freak, & by adulthood I was not only not BAD at socializing but actually GOOD at it, tho it still was (and is) exhausting & requires a lot of recovery time alone.

Anyways tldr basically my point is the person you perceive now was constructed out of necessity to avoid being a pariah forever which is what I knew would happen if I didnt change. I was an autistic kid & now I'm an adult who very easily passes as allistic. I've been doing it so long that most of it doesn't take much effort anymore. I've always been good at learning things. sarcasm and humor can be learned & I've been at this awhile needless to say

[kaiserin-erzsebet]

May I ask sincerely what are your thoughts about the fact the that most adaptations of the Mayerling incident chose to romanticize the murder -suicide and the relationship between prince rudolf and baroness Mary vetsera

I am going to start this by saying that I don't know as much about Rudolph specifically as I would like to. My dissertation is about the 1850s and 1860s, so he wasn't yet significant. Much of what I know about him is from discussions of liberalism in the late 19th century, where he shows up as a critic of his father and, for liberals, the hope for reform when Franz Joseph passed the throne to him.

So, I will say that this is a part of two larger conversations in my head: the fixation on famous violent deaths of historical figures and the a general romanticization of depression and suicide.

I'll start with the latter. While I don't think that fiction is obliged to eschew dark themes or only portray suicidal ideation in the scolding tone of a PSA, it strikes me as uncomfortable how often it is portrayed as something as beautiful and tragic. And I mean that broadly, whether it be Empress Elisabeth, Rudolph, Princess Diana, or Marilyn Monroe. There is a real tendency I see to color their entire lives with tragic and always beautiful depression. The facets of them as a person are reduced down to this one thing--with Rudolph this turns into foreshadowing his death in Sisi media even when he's a young child.

It's the "Van Gogh made his most beautiful art when he was depressed" misconception broadly applied. The depression is the tragedy, and the suicide or accidental suicide (thinking here of Marilyn Monroe's death by overdose) is the romantic and tragic end. It's not exclusive to Rudolph, though certainly there is something particularly puzzling about it with him since his suicide was violent and took a young woman with him.

And before I sound too much like the artistic expression police, I do get it. Sometimes creatives want to explore how it feels to be at war with yourself. I have depressive episodes; I understand that feeling all too well. But, does it always have to be graceful and beautiful?

On the second point: There's a real issue with fixating on the violent deaths of historical figures.

If you asked someone who doesn't know much about Austria to name two Habsburgs, you would almost certainly get: Marie Antoinette and Franz Ferdinand.

What do those two have in common? Violent famous deaths.

I would challenge most people who make jokes and references to Franz Ferdinand to actually say something about his politics or his life before his death.

My point here is that the death itself becomes famous and the person's whole life shrinks down to that. That's how we get Rudolph's suicide being portrayed as the product of just having a bad relationship with his emotionally unavailable father or (worse) as a cudgel to punish his mother for not being involved enough.

Rudolph as a person doesn't appear as much. His liberalism? His engagement with the arts and sciences? His travels? His attempts to publish criticism of the empire? It all gets subsumed into the violent end of his life. And even then, his frustrations as a liberal who was seeing both staunch conservatism and rising right wing populism and losing hope in the future hardly takes center stage in portraying his reasons for his suicide.

That's my general take on it, but anyone who knows more about Rudolph specifically is encouraged to chime in with their thoughts.

[thollandsgirl2013]

Hello I was wondering if you are comfortable with writing zendaya into a tom holland fic like one where Tom is dating zendaya and the reader is his best friend and one day when y/n gets ready to go on a date tom gets jealous even though he's with Z and he realizes that he's loved reader all along and breaks things off with Z (no hate towards Z in anyway btw)

Hi! I wasn't really feeling comfortable with Tom and Zendaya but I also liked the concept of your request so I changed the characters, hope you don't mind and still like it.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ ✼　 ҉ ✼　

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

Parings → Roommate! Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → angst, fluff

Summary → Peter realizes he's in love with his best friend, when you went on a date with Brad.

You stood in front of the mirror, dabbing a brush across your eyelid, blending out a warm shade of eyeshadow. Tonight felt different, almost foreign. It wasn’t that you hadn’t imagined going on dates before—far from it—but you’d never thought it’d actually happen, especially not with someone like Brad Davis. You adjusted the strap of your dress, stealing a glance at Peter in the mirror.

He was sprawled on your bed, arms crossed, and his brows furrowed in that boyish way he did when he was sulking.

“Do you really have to go?” He whined, dragging the words out like a five-year-old.

“Yes, Peter. I do,” you replied with an exaggerated sigh, running a hand through your hair.

“But it’s movie night! You can’t just ditch movie night, Y/n. That’s, like, breaking the bestie code,” he declared, sitting up now, eyes wide as though he was genuinely appalled.

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a laugh. “Peter, just ask MJ if she’s free and call her over for a movie night. It’s been a while since you two went on a date anyway.”

He grimaced at the suggestion. “That’s not the point!” He shot back. “I like MJ, but she always picks these horror movies or murder documentaries, I don't like those!”

“Then compromise or watch two movies. Problem solved.”

Peter groaned, throwing himself back onto your bed like the world had ended. “It’s not just about the movie, Y/n. It’s Brad Davis. You really want to go out with him? That guy literally had a war with me over MJ back in high school. He was Flash’s lackey, for crying out loud!”

You turned to him fully now, crossing your arms. “Peter, he’s changed. He’s not the same guy from high school. Besides, if he still liked MJ, he wouldn’t have asked me out.”

Peter shot up, his expression defensive. “How would you know that? What if he’s just trying to worm his way into our group or—worse—steal MJ from me?”

“If MJ likes you enough, then you shouldn’t have to worry,” you replied flatly, going back to your makeup.

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point, Peter?”

He stumbled over his words for a second, looking frustrated. “He’s not your type, Y/n. You two are complete opposites.”

You raised a brow, spinning back to face him. “You and MJ are opposites too, and you’re together. Why is it different for me?”

“That’s not the same thing!”

“Oh? And how exactly is it not the same?”

Peter opened his mouth but immediately closed it, his jaw tightening as he looked away. “He’s just not right for you, okay? You shouldn’t go out with someone like him.”

“And how do you know that?”

“I just do!” He snapped. “Because I’m your best friend, and I know you better than anyone else.”

His sudden outburst caught you off guard, and your voice dropped, softer now. “Why are you mad, Peter? You never let me talk to any boys. You always say they’re bad or some shit. If I don’t get out there, how am I supposed to know who’s bad and who’s not?”

Peter flinched slightly at your words, but his expression hardened again. “Do whatever you want,” he muttered under his breath before storming out of your room, slamming his bedroom door behind him.

You stood there, staring at the closed door opposite of your bedroom, feeling a sting in your chest. His behaviour hurt, more than you wanted to admit, but you shook it off, focusing on the task at hand.

Taking a deep breath, you gave yourself one last look in the mirror. You looked good—better than you had in a while. But that didn’t stop Peter’s words from replaying in your head as you grabbed your purse and stepped out of the apartment.

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

The date was fine. Brad was polite enough, though his stories about his workouts and teammates dragged on longer than you cared for. You tried to stay engaged, but your mind kept wandering. Peter’s voice echoed in your head, his words about Brad pulling at your thoughts.

“You know,” Brad said as you neared your building, “Coach is always on my case, but I think it’s because he knows I’m the only one who can handle the pressure.”

“Right,” you muttered, forcing a smile.

Brad didn’t seem to notice your distraction. “Anyway, I had a good time tonight. You are nice company.”

“Uh, thanks,” you replied, already reaching for your keys.

“See you around, Y/n.”

“Goodnight, Brad,” you gave him a soft smile.

To your relief, he leaned in and kissed your cheek instead of trying for anything more. You offered him another small smile before heading inside. It was late, nearing midnight, and your heels clicked softly on the floor as you climbed the stairs to the shared apartment.

When you entered, you noticed the faint glow of the TV in the living room. Kicking off your heels at the door, you walked in to find Peter on the couch, staring at the screen but clearly not watching it.

“Hey,” you said softly, setting your purse down on the counter.

Peter immediately stood up and, without warning, pulled you into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around you with a desperation you hadn’t felt before.

“You okay, Pete?” You asked, confused by the sudden embrace.

He pulled back slightly but kept his hands on your shoulders. His face was serious, and his voice cracked as he said, “I broke up with MJ.”

You blinked, taking a step back. “You did what?!”

“I broke up with MJ,” he repeated, his voice quieter this time.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “Peter, tell me this is a joke. You’re joking, right?”

He shook his head, his curls bouncing slightly. “No. I’m serious.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair. “Why? Why would you do that?!”

Peter hesitated, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “Because I realized something.”

“What?”

“That I love you, Y/n/n,” he said, his voice breaking at the edges. “Not just as my best friend—I’m in love with you.”

You froze, his words hanging heavy in the air. “Wait, wait, wait. Back it up,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief. “You can’t just say something like that, Peter. You like MJ. She’s your girlfriend! You can’t just suddenly fall for me.”

“I didn’t,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he looked at you. “I fell for you a long time ago, but I was a coward. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. I thought it’d be easier to move on. But it wasn’t.”

“Peter...”

“What I did—it’s the right thing,” he continued, his voice growing steadier. “Because the relationship wasn’t fair to her. Or to me. I couldn’t keep pretending when my heart has always been with you.”

You stared at him, your mind spinning. His words felt like a dream, something you’d imagined countless times but never thought would actually happen.

“Please, Y/n,” he said, his voice cracking again. “Tell me I haven’t lost you. Please.”

For a moment, you didn’t say anything. You simply stared at him, trying to process everything. Then, without thinking, you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

Peter froze, his hands instinctively gripping your arms to steady himself. When you pulled back, his eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open in shock.

“Did that answer your question?” You asked, your cheeks warm.

He blinked, his stunned expression quickly melting into one of hope and nervous excitement. “I—I, um—c-can you do it again?” He stammered, his cheeks turning red. “I think I need to understand better.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head before leaning in to kiss him again, this time slower, savoring the moment. His lips moved against yours tentatively at first, but then he relaxed, pulling you closer as if he was afraid to let go.

When you finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured.

“Maybe not as long as I have,” you teased, a smile tugging at your lips.

Peter chuckled softly, his hands gently cupping your face now. “So... does this mean you’ll stay for movie night?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you playfully swatted his chest. “Only if I get to pick the movie this time.”

“Deal,” he said with a grin, leaning in to steal another quick kiss.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗