#oh hey the manifesting worked lol

[unproduciblesmackdown]

speaking vaguely of "what the hell? my christmas wish ft. joy & cheer?" & "what the hell? if i can go 'i'm kind of like mister macabee in that one situation in this one situation'" but that i'll absolutely take it in both cases....fun development over the years in what my Dream Self does in situations that can be Just Like Waking Me like when dream me gets excited about something niche or shares some trivia, though not too rarely dream me can be expressly larping / a whole other role / just kinda general videogame pov. but where it's a classic dream self response to stress/threat enough figure is Launch A Physical Attack Then lmao but then also it's become more of a phenomenon like my dream self does pipe up in looking out for oneself but also in the showing em what for Verbal pushback in response to dream figure who is being an asshole about whatever. i'd call him a such-and-such but i'm a nice guy

[luckykiwiii101]

ONE THING ABOUT BEING THE QUEEN OF DELUSIONS? IT GIVES YOU A LONG WAY TO FALL

p.s. this post isn’t pretty, it wasn’t worth my time, or effort.

Hey Upper East Siders. Gossip girl here. Usually i’m here to help you fix your life, but @loaisacult, this one’s for you. And I can’t name any upper east siders more desperate than, well…you. It’s pitiful I know. But you can cry about it later, if you haven’t ran out of tears already, that is.

I don’t mean to start a fight, but there’s a weak link in every chain, and it just happens to be you.

I know you express your belief in the law of assumption being a cult. The funny thing is, when people don’t like something, they usually walk away, unless it bothers them that much. And the even funnier thing is, you complain about bloggers “preaching” the law of assumption, and getting others to follow. But what are you doing? Preaching your ideologies, in hopes that others will follow you too. Oh what’s that word again…hypocritical was it?

And oh sweetie, no one cares about your irrelevant opinions enough to affirm “@loaisacult doesn’t exist, @loaisacult doesn’t exist…” Talk about a weak argument. I hope law isn’t your major. But you know what is major? Your idiocy.

Calling people on this app suicidal? Pathetic. Although I can’t tell you that isn’t true. Because to some extent, it is. And i’d agree with you if you weren’t so ignorant. But I guess changing self in terms other than just loa isn’t your cup of tea. Bloggers are not meant to be personal therapists for people in the loacommunity. And yes there are and were previously some bloggers who would get suicidal asks from anons and just respond to them to persist. But why are you generalising EVERYONE in the community? Your point is immediately invalid. So because there were some immoral bloggers who would act that way automatically means that the whole entire practise of the law of assumption is a CULT? Hello? Do you hear yourself?

Let’s use your “logic” here. Say gossip girl makes a post telling her followers to worship satan. Therefore the whole entire loa community must ALL be satanists! Now how ridiculous is that…

Yes there are liars, everywhere. Oh i’m sorry, did that come as a surprise to you? You didn’t think the world was rainbows and sunshine did you? Well unless you assume it is. But at the same time, there are honest people too. Yet you like to pick and choose what to focus on. Look me in my virtual eyes and tell me that Lady gaga isn’t one of the most famous people on the planet. Oh wait..you can’t! News flash, she manifested that. And so did many of your other favourites. Yet you choose to focus on liars, because that’s what you want to believe. Of course a close minded, one sided argument is your way to go. Disregard everything else in the process why don’t you.

“It's ironic how some boast about manifesting luxury items like Lamborghinis, which could easily be rented, yet they fail to manifest meaningful change for their followers who are in abusive situations.” - l.o.s.e.r

B-b-but didn’t you say that you used to be a big blogger? So why didn’t you attempt to do the same? (As if! it would only work if they assumed so). But honestly, you don’t sound like someone who is educated on the law, you sound like those desperate anons in bloggers inboxes asking bloggers to manifest for them. Because why is that the point you used? To manifest for followers? Were you…one of those…followers? Talk about holding a grudge. No wonder why you’re so mad. If I had a dime for how many times you got rejected i’d be a millionaire.

“Want to prove to your followers who are spiraling about the American election rather than post persist hehehee how about you manifest for them….. change the election revise life’s an illusion while you’re crying about having your rights taken away lol but you can’t.” - l.o.s.e.r

Run upper east siders, we’ve got an idiot on our hands. Making a point on something completely false. If you really understood the law, you’d know that you can’t manipulate somebody else’s reality, unless they assume you can. But it’s not to my surprise that you didn’t know that, of all people. Last time I checked, it’s YOUR imagination, and nobody else’s. So WHY would YOUR 3D reflect THEIR imagination? And you claim to be a blogger educated on the law…quite a “big” one too. I cant name any “big” bloggers who’ve misinformed the law THAT bad. Talk about liars now…

At this point, it’s PAINFULLY obvious that you were one of those anons begging bloggers to manifest for you. Because you’re SO mad that bloggers don’t do that for people. They can’t really because it depends on your assumption. I’m not even making an invalid point here. It’s just so obvious. “Want to prove to your followers.” “how about you manifest for them” 😭 I’m literally in tears because of how funny this is. I’m sorry that no blogger has proven it to you or manifested “for you”, and you’ve carried that hatred with you and projected it onto the whole loa community. And the only reason you continue to believe that the law of assumption is real (rightfully so) is because you know that there’s way too much proof of it to even attempt to dismiss it without looking like a fool. And maybe a fraction of that belief comes from your hope, because without the law, everything you’d ever hoped for would be out the window.

In short, you make points about “why don’t you manifest for your followers 🥺” Well, I don’t know if you knew this but…there’s this concept called free will. And just because someone chooses to not do something, doesn’t mean they can’t. Is common sense just not part of the package for you? It seems the point flies right over your head faster than you can catch it, and the only thing that doesn’t land, are your “points”.

But if you still don’t understand me, let’s use a little bit of your so -called logic here.

‘Loa is real manifesting is real shifting is real but most people in this community lie and are culty 99.999% of the stories here are lies the people doing that shit don’t even post abt it probably think they’re in some dream most of the success here are creative writing and living in the end.” - l.o.s.e.r

From YOUR logic, couldn’t I just ask you to manifest that the liars don’t exist and that you no longer view the law of assumption as a cult? So why haven’t you…? You’ll ask anyone questions but yourself. And if they think it was a dream…then how did they send their success stories to bloggers? Did I miss an update because last time I checked, you can’t do that in a dream. See, your points are fuelled by complete hatred, not logic. You truly don’t believe what you’re telling yourself and others. Embarrassing.

And don’t get me started on how statistically IMPOSSIBLE that is. Do I even have to explain why? I promise you, thousands of people are NOT lying for the pure fun of it. That’s just not how the human mind works. Wouldn’t they rather shit on loa just like you rather than posting success stories hoping it’ll happen?I didn’t know talking out of the wrong hole was in fashion these days. But then again, not everyone has style. And if there’s one thing money can’t buy, it’s class. Was that a moth? Must’ve flewn right out of your wallet.

Now don’t get me wrong, i’m not bothered to read your whole blog and all the nonsense you cry about and debunk every little thing you say. Because trust me, common sense does the job for me.

Have fun continuing to “preach” your delusional idea of the law being a cult to yourself and your little followers. Like sheep. One after the other.

Don’t even think about trying to respond to me, as if anything you say makes sense.

P.S. I’ll delete this post later, I don’t like having drama on my blog. This is my first and last time addressing you. I just don’t want people in this community, including my lovely upper east siders to listen to idiots like you telling them that all the success stories they’ve read are fake, when that is so obviously not true. Only someone who hasn’t consciously the experienced the law for themselves would doubt others so badly, and you used to be a “big” blogger you say…The fucking audacity. But then again, it’s hard to believe in something you haven’t experienced for yourself (is it?), but at-least don’t get caught in a lie. Disrespectfully, shut your mouth and don’t open it again.

- gossip girl

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

I have NO CLUE what this is and I couldn't think of a title for it lol

"There's no way!"

"I can't believe it!

"Oh, this is the best day of my life!"

Remus listens to his roommates and their excited chatter for a few moments before pushing the door open. Lily, Mary and Marlene don't even turn around at his arrival, not able to stop their celebration over... something?

"Um... hi?" He tries with an amused smile.

"Hi," they all say in unison, before immediately turning and carrying on with their conversation.

"I wonder what he's doing here!"

"He hasn't been back in years!"

"Sorry, who are we talking about?" Remus asks, dropping his bag onto the counter and starting to root through it for his water.

"Sirius Black! Rumour has it he's in town!" Mary says excitedly, and every inch of Remus freezes. His heart stops beating, his lungs stop working, his hair stands on end as he does his level best to act casual.

Sirius fucking Black. Biggest star of their generation, with every album he's released hitting number one and staying there for a scary amount of time. Five years of fame, fortune, interviews and tours. Five years of being everybody's favourite person, of being admired, of being featured everywhere.

Five years since him and Remus broke up.

Remus has spent the past five years trapped in limbo. Everywhere he goes he hears Sirius' voice, with his songs played in every shop, in every cafe, on every radio station. He tries his level best to avoid it, to try to protect his mental health, but he can't help himself sometimes. He's had countless sleepless nights, going through his old pictures and videos that he told Peter he'd deleted and crying his eyes out. He knows every word to every song Sirius has released, just from listening to them in his car when he's feeling really sentimental. He can't keep himself from recognising lyrics, hooks and little chord progressions that Sirius created while they were together.

He moved away the moment he got signed, and Remus hasn't seen him since. He's done two world tours and a fair few one off concerts, but he's never once come back. They haven't spoken once in those five years, but Remus doesn't have the heart to delete Sirius' number. He's pretty sure he has it memorised anyway, so it wouldn't do him any good to delete it.

"He'd better do a concert!" Marlene's voice pulls Remus out of his daze, as he tries his best to level his breathing, rooting through his bag and refusing to look up. "I've been waiting for us to finally get one!"

"Yeah, he dodges us like the plague!"

"Well... he did grow up here," Lily starts explaining. "He wouldn't have to come back at all."

No, he wouldn't.

Why the hell is he back?

"D'you really think he's going to do a concert?" Mary asks, clasping their hands together.

"This is how all of his one night only concerts have gone! He shows up, then a few hours later his tickets go on sale!" Marlene smiles triumphantly, and Remus shuts his eyes, back to them, trying to keep his head from spinning.

"Right, so we're going to have to be careful to make sure we get them," Lily says with a nod. "Someone stick his music on."

Remus turns around, then, eyes wide.

"Why?"

The three of them look at him a little like he's grown three heads.

"Manifesting?" Marlene says, as Mary starts tapping on their phone.

The next thing Remus knows, Sirius' most popular song is playing, A Pearl in the Darkened Sea.

Oh, fuck.

Remus feels sick.

The song he knows better than he knows himself is playing in his living room like it's nothing. The memory of Sirius writing it comes back into his head, why he wrote it, what the song really means.

"Hey, Remus?" Lily starts. Remus tries to fix his face. "If it's a concert, want to try to get a ticket with us?"

"Oh, er..." he starts, cringing a little at the hesitation in his voice. "No thanks."

"No thanks?" Marlene asks, stunned.

"Are you insane? This is the Sirius Black!"

"I know. I'm all good, thanks." He hopes that'll be enough for them, but they don't seem satisfied with that answer.

"He's literally taken the world by storm! He's stolen the hearts of the nation!" Mary says, and Remus almost wants to confess everything right then and there. He knows all about Sirius' ability to steal hearts, and he also knows how painfully that can end.

He's not going to say anything, though. Sirius is happy, Remus doesn't need to dig up the past and ruin it for him.

"Are you sure you don't want to try?"

"I'm sure." He looks at the three of them, feeling really fucking suffocated. "I've actually, er... I've got a headache, I'm going to go lay down."

"Need anything?" Lily asks him gently. He shakes his head, before making a beeline for his room.

The moment the door closes behind him, he takes to pacing around his cramped room.

"It's been five years, Remus," he mutters to himself. "Fucking pull yourself together; it's just weird now!" He stops in his tracks, pressing a palm to his growing migraine. Sure, the days have gotten easier, he spends a lot less time crying over Sirius, but surely he should be over him entirely by now! He shouldn't be freaking out over rumours of him being back in town!

Rumours.

Fuck, that's literally all they are.

There's no confirmation, Sirius hasn't said anything himself. Even if he had, how does that affect Remus? It shouldn't matter that they're in the same place. It shouldn't be important that he's back in the spaces that they used to share.

He vaguely hears a knock at the door as he tries to force himself to stop thinking. The music stops as he gets back to pacing, trying to walk off the anxious energy he's stuck with.

"Oh my god. Oh, my god!" Lily's voice is loud enough, startled enough, to catch Remus' attention. "You're..."

"Uhm... hi."

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Remus knows that voice.

He knows that voice better than he knows his own voice.

"You're Sirius Black!" Mary exclaims, stunned.

"I am." His voice is muffled, but it's him. Unmistakably, undeniably him. "I also... may have the wrong flat." Remus doesn't even realise that he's scrambling to his bedroom door until he's fumbling with the handle. "Does Remus Lupin live here? Or... anywhere near here?"

Hearing his name in Sirius' perfect fucking voice has him practically shoving the door open, bursting into the living room just in time for all of his roommates to turn and look at him.

He can barely see them, though.

Sirius is here.

Standing in his doorway, beautiful silver eyes on Remus like he's stunned to see him. As if he hasn't just shown up at Remus' flat.

"Sirius," he breathes.

"Rem." The nickname seems to slip out, snapping Sirius out of his daze. "Remus. Hi."

He has so many questions. Too many questions. Why he's here, how he's still so perfect, why he hasn't been able to get Sirius out of his head.

"...how did you know where I live?" He asks instead.

"James told me," he admits sheepishly.

"Of course he did," Remus says with a fond shake of his head. "He was probably falling over himself to tell you." He walks over to the doorway, keeping a careful distance so his resolve doesn't crack and he doesn't burst into tears, holding onto the man he hasn't seen in five years and begging him to stay forever.

"How'd you know?" Sirius asks sarcastically, and Remus can't help the smile that creeps onto his face. "I... I just wanted... could we talk?"

Talk.

Just talk.

Five years, and Sirius shows up acting like he wants to ask him about the English essay that he definitely could have done by himself.

At whatever look is on Remus' face, Sirius suddenly turns hesitant. Remus hasn't seen him like this in years. Sirius for the public is nothing but confident; all big smiles, standing tall and speaking without a single stumble.

"If- you can say no. I'll go. I just- I didn't want- I thought it was worth-"

"I'd really like to talk," Remus says softly.

"Oh, thank fuck," Sirius exhales, drawing a laugh out of Remus before he can help himself. Remus steps aside, gesturing for Sirius to come inside. When he turns to lead both of them over to the kitchen, he realises that his roommates are all standing and staring at them, wide eyed.

"Could, er... could you guys give us some time alone?" Remus asks, as Sirius situates himself on one of the kitchen counter stools. Christ, it's alien, seeing Sirius here, as glamorous and perfect as always and looking really bloody anxious. When his roommates don't move, he walks over to them. "Guys. Please."

"You- you're-" Marlene gestures, clearly in shock.

"Please?"

Lily seems to snap out of it, then.

"Right, yeah. Yes, of course." She grabs Mary and Marlene by the elbows, pulling the three of them into her room and shutting the door behind her.

Thank God.

He turns to Sirius with an uncertain smile.

"D'you want something to drink?" Remus asks, flicking the kettle on.

They end up with a mug of tea each, Remus sliding into the seat beside Sirius.

"Can't believe you take your tea exactly the same," Remus says with a smile.

"What can I say? I'm a creature of habit," Sirius says back. "You do the same too, thank you very much!"

"Alright, alright, I'm a hypocrite." They lapse into silence for a second, Remus at a loss for words. He still can't believe that this is real.

"Sorry. I know this probably came out of nowhere," Sirius says softly.

"Just a bit," Remus answers back.

"How did the English degree go?" He asks with a smile.

"Graduated with a first," Remus answers. "I finish my masters this year."

"'Course. You've always been a genius."

"Shut up, I have not."

"You have! Why d'you think I always came to you for essay help?"

"Because you fancied the pants off me and that was the easiest way to get me alone?" He asks with the arch of an eyebrow. Sirius smiles, caught.

"Okay, yeah, that sounds about right. Doesn't mean I don't think you're a genius, though." After a second, Sirius takes a deep breath, letting his eyes slide closed for half a second. "Do you ever think about us?" Sirius watches Remus anxiously, and Remus nods once. He's not quite ready to admit how much he thinks about them. About Sirius. "About... how it all ended?"

How could he forget?

It was one of the worst nights of Remus' life. A lot of shouting and tears, all ending with Remus telling Sirius to "just fucking go then!" immediately followed by Sirius storming out.

"Yeah," he admits quietly.

"I... fuck it. Rem, I replay that night in my head far too often. I- I don't really recognise us in it, d'you know what I mean?" Remus huffs an empty laugh.

"Yeah, I don't either. We... I don't really recognise us at all, towards the end." He starts playing with his fingers.

"What happened, Rem?"

"We were both a bit traumatised," Remus starts, and Sirius nods in agreement. "And we were both stubborn gits who wouldn't go to therapy about it."

"I think I just thought you didn't want me anymore," Sirius confesses quietly. "So I started trying to... I don't know, test the waters? Pull away, see if it did anything?" Remus shoots him a bit of a disbelieving look, and Sirius buries his head in his hands with a groan. It's a gesture so unbelievably Sirius-like that Remus wants to rake his fingers through his hair and bring him back out of his shell in the same way he did when they were a kid. "I know! It was fucking stupid! I just figured... I don't even know what I figured. I think I just didn't want to have to ask, y'know? Hear you say that you weren't interested in me anymore."

"I was into you. Christ, Sirius, you were my whole bloody world. I was just..." He sighs, not sure if he really wants to admit this. "You weren't going to move."

"What?"

"I overheard you talking to James. The record deal, moving to London? You were going to refuse it. I just... you're so fucking talented, and I didn't want you to have to gamble with the deal and risk losing it because of me. Sirius, look how far you've gotten. I couldn't be the one to get in the way of that, so I... I tried to make you see that you could live without me. Your dreams should come first."

"You..." Sirius' eyes scan across Remus' face, and he shakes his head to himself. "Trust you to be too bloody selfless." His affectionate smile fades, replaced by so much sincerity that Remus is a little taken aback by it. "Remus, all I wanted was you." He runs a hand through his hair. "I would have been happy in a cramped little flat in the middle of nowhere if it meant we could grow old together. I wrote songs for me. For you. Even now, they belong to us. Not everybody else. I still have so many that nobody else is going to get to see."

"Yeah, I remember every song you wrote."

"You do?"

"Course I do."

"I promise, I never wanted Pearl in the Darkened Sea to go out to the public. The label was going through my lyric book and found it. I... couldn't talk them out of it." He sounds surprisingly apologetic, and Remus wants to jump to reassure him.

"Hey, don't worry. I... it was actually really nice to be able to hear it."

"You still listen to it?"

"Don't tell my roommates." Sirius nods with a smile.

"Secret's safe with me." Remus watches Sirius consider his words carefully.

"You okay?" Remus asks softly.

"I miss you so much," he confesses in a rush. "I- I still want to talk to you about anything and everything, I can't write without thinking of you, and I spend an embarrassing amount of time thinking about us." He speaks quickly, not looking Remus in the eye.

"I miss you too. Fucking hell, Sirius, I miss you every day." Sirius' eyes meet his and, for a second, the two of them just look at each other. He watches as Sirius' face sets determinedly.

"I'm still in love with you."

Oh.

"You..."

"I never stopped loving you, Remus." This time, he doesn't look away from Remus, suddenly brave. "I know that might be a bit much, and I know you're probably over the breakup, and that's okay. I'll be okay. I just... I'd really like to have you back in my life, in any way that you're comfortable with. I just figure, if I want that, then I need to be as honest as I can. I spent a long time in love with you from a distance, I can do it as friends-"

He can't say anything else, because Remus is kissing him.

The impulse is an age old one, but he surprises himself a little by listening to his gut.

He's never been more grateful for his instincts in his life, as Sirius makes out a muffled noise of surprise, before throwing himself into the kiss earnestly. His lips are soft and familiar, bringing such a feeling of warmth and safety that Remus could cry.

The kiss is desperate, both trying to pull one another impossibly closer, limited by the distance of their chairs. Remus' hands go from his waist, to the nape of his neck, to his jaw, into his hair, trying to reach at every single piece of Sirius that he hadn't had in front of him for five fucking years. When Sirius reaches out, fingers hooking on the chain around Remus' neck and moving to pull him closer, Remus practically falls off his chair. It's enough of a stumble to break them apart, Remus having to get his bearings before their eyes meet.

"Hi," Sirius says quietly, eyes shining.

"Hi."

"I love you so much."

"I love you too," Remus says back, reaching out to lace their fingers together. Sirius lifts their connected hands, kissing all of Remus' knuckles one at a time. "So... we're trying again, yeah?" Sirius nods.

"With one hundred percent honesty, though." Remus nods, in fervent agreement.

"Guess I'm your groupie, now."

"Shut up," Sirius says, rolling his eyes affectionately as he connects their lips again. "You're my everything."

[hatsukeii]

hiii congrats on ur 1000 followers 🌟🌟

i will like to have a cup of latte and boba pls, on side note i’m allergy free ✨✨ and so is that guy over there. the tall guy with chocolate brown hair sitting at the corner of the store, he’s name is suna rintarou. do you mind passing the drinks to him? its on me 🫶🏻🫶🏻

hey, good to see you around! your order's up!

feeling like a drink yourself? order one here!

do you like girls? / suna rintarou x reader

ingredient(s): fluff + crack!! pre-timeskip! misunderstanding trope but in a good way, reader is a bassist because it works LOL

disclaimer(s): implied fem! reader but gn pronouns, suggestive but not like extended it's just the punchline

wc: ~1.0k

drink profile: lesbian panic, lesbian misunderstandings, lesbian confusion

"Really, Suna? Of all people, that one?"

"Don't call them that, asshole."

Forgetting that Miya Osamu, at the end of the day, is still Miya Atsumu's twin brother, was the biggest mistake of Suna Rintarou's life. He should have known that the two would share gossip amongst each other, but it had slipped his mind when he absentmindedly confided in Osamu about his recent infatuation. Now, the two of them peek through the square window of the Inarizaki music room, fighting and clawing at each other for a view of the person behind the door. Suna watches, leaned against the wall on the other side of the hallway, glancing away from the twins as students and teachers alike pass by. Suna does not know who the twins are. He is not sure why they are fighting in front of the music room door. That is what he pretends to believe.

"...'Samu, are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Osamu grunts, shoving Atsumu to the side and taking his spot. He pokes his head just high enough for his eyes to float above the window frame, but low enough to stay unnoticed. When he catches a glimpse of the person in the room, his head turns toward Suna, agonisingly slow.

"Suna, I think you're in love with a lesbian."

"Fuck you mean I'm in love with a lesbian? I would've known by now if they were, I see them in every other class."

"Oh, we mean they're into GIRLS kind of lesbian. What else do you think we mean dumbass?" Atsumu chimes in, taking another glance through the window. What a sight, Suna's infatuation is a manifestation of exactly what he cannot have. They manspread on their chair, wear clear nail polish on cleanly trimmed nails, silver rings on every finger, and most importantly of all, wink and click their tongue at another girl, who turns away giggling. If only Suna could see this, he would be shattered. Atsumu chooses to keep his silence this time.

Suna Rintarou is a great pretender, at least in front of the Miya twins, who just so happen to be awfully dense. He crosses his arms, and hugs them a little tighter against his chest, hooking one leg over the other as he leans further into the wall. He doesn't mind, of course not. After all, his infatuation could be fleeting, but your queerness is forever, at least you have an actual reason to be disinterested. That is what he wants the twins to think. But for the first time in his life, Suna Rintarou is punching the air for being born with a dick. Talk about fleeting attraction, this is all but that.

"Well, ain't that unfortunate then." That comes out more dejected that Suna intended for it to, and the twins swing around to face him, pity painted across their faces.

"Awwww Suna! Are you upset? Are you sad? It's okay, everyone ends up liking someone gay once in a whi- ow!" Osamu sends a chop into Atsumu's piss blonde hair, and receives a jab in the chest in return. "Cut it out 'Samu! Stop being a bitch!"

Neither of them notice the door swing open until it hits them in the side, and nearly knocks them over. When they regain their balance, they turn to see you halfway out the door, silver-clad fingers gripping at the handle. Suna's eyes dart towards the twins, and it's reminiscent of the time they ruined his new volleyball shoes during a petty catfight. A look of disdain. Contempt, even. Atsumu eyes Osamu, who nods frantically in return. Together, they run away.

"Is everything all good? Oh, hey Suna!" You chirp, watching the twins dash through the hall and up the stairs. "What's up? You need somethi-"

"Do you like women?" Suna blurts out, before slapping a hand on his mouth. Your eyes widen in disbelief. His face reddens in disbelief.

"Sorry?"

Clearing his throat, Suna hugs his arms around his waist, wiping his hand discretely on the fabric of his shirt that lies above his waist. There has to be a way out of this, he just isn't sure of what it is yet, or so he wants to think.

"...The twins wanted to know." Good segue! Suna pats himself on the back, until he sees the look on your face. Your eyes are squinted, head tilted ever so slightly and lips frowning in confusion.

"I'm not lesbian, if that's what you're asking. I would be open to any gender though..." You eye Suna up and down, and he isn't sure if it's a good sign, until you grin and shrug your shoulders at him. "...if I weren't already finding someone in particular attractive these days."

Something crashes behind you in the music room, and your head snaps to look back. The girl from before clumsily dismantles a drum set, and drops one of the cymbals on the floor. She's trying to be helpful, and you smile, but you're responsible for pack-up today.

"Oh well, I get why they'd think that though. Bass player, so I gotta keep the nails short." You turn back to see Suna, whose hands are beginning to get clammy on his shirt, and who hopes to god you don't question the blood that rushes to his face. Unfortunately for him, you take notice anyways. Fortunately for him, though, you choose not to push on.

"Ah. Got it." His feet shuffle, and he stands up straight again, finally separating from the wall.

"Cool? Cool. Okay, I'm gonna go and deal with that. I'll catch you later for lunch, Rin?" Suna swallows, nodding quietly. He isn't sure where the nickname came from, but he thinks he'd like to get used to it.

You retreat into the room, but not without shooting a wink and a click of your tongue in his direction, and Suna swears he can die right there. But not before he tracks Osamu and Atsumu Miya down, and forces them to apologise on their knees.

barista's note:

hope you liked it!! i had this idea because i saw a prompt about an osu player but i was like mmm no im not into osu player how about BASS LOLOL but i hope this was enough of both crack and fluff for you, dear customer! on the side i need loser suna because i just know he's a SLEAZE idc

tags: @chuuya-brainrot @fiannee @catsoupki @akaakeis @hiraethwa @wyrcan @laughingfcx @bakery-anon @bailey-reeds @kongkhoi @kuroppiii

ok love u all bye bye i need my rest after english paper 1 and 2

[pedrosman]

Would love to see oberyn, dieter, Frankie and Marcus stories! Especially if they are tops against a bottom reader

AN- YES YES YES YES! here is a pretty long (sorry i got carried away) one shot fic

Do you want to have sex with me?

Pairing: Dieter Bravo (the bubble) x Male!Reader

Word count: 4000 ish

Summary: you work on set as an assistant cinematographer, you have been noticing Dieter looking at you weird all day.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+ MDNI!, Dieter Bravo, fic takes place during the bubble, you are working on set, Age Gap! P in A! Unprotected, Drug use! Top! Dieter Bravo, bot! Reader, small use of y/n

Feel free to give me feedback and tips, this is my first full fic. Also very open to submission, muh luh muh only lol

I am so fucking done with this film. The directors on Cliff Beasts Six, the newest instalment of the oh-so-amazing “Cliff Beasts” franchise, aren’t interested in anything but making a cheque, and it shows. Neither the actors nor anyone on set are engaged, and there is a palpable sense of boredom between everyone.

I, y/n, aged 19, applied for this position as an assistant cinematographer to get out of my shitty apartment and finally attempt to gain some experience in the film industry. How insightful it has been. Days of sitting by as the stuck-up actors on Cliff Beasts 6 (seriously 6??) argue over a script that has probably (definitely) been made through Chatgpt. It is amusing to watch though, watching how they bicker over the delivery of a single line, whilst everyone else just stands and watches idly. How invigorating. What I wouldn't give to just tell them all to shut the fuck-

“Hey! Runner! What the fuck are you doing standing on set? We're about to shoot!”

Oh shit, I’ve fucking done it. Now these fucking A-listers are staring at me like I’ve shot their half-dead Bichon Frise, but I still haven’t moved an inch.

“What the fuck is your problem? MOVE!” the voice calls out again.

“Uh, shit... My bad” I mumble as I stumble over the fake ground onto the warehouse floor. “That was great y/n, real smooth” I think as I curse under my breath towards the hostility of the director who has been doing nothing but sit on his ass and attempt to blow 0’s with his oversized vape. But seriously, I was barely on set, not even within proximity to the actors, or where the camera was supposed to run through. I slink towards the wall, enshadowed by the stacks upon stacks of props of dinosaur eggs, embarrassment manifesting onto my face in a burning shade of scarlet. With my head mow staring so intently at the scratch marks of the floor, avoiding the gaze of every single person on Earth, I run a shaky hand through my outgrown and bleach-damaged hair. I want to disappear right now.

I stay in the shadows silently, still not daring to look up at the scene the actors now play through. Instead, I listen to their half-assed attempts of acting fearful of the blue blob that will be the mother dinosaur to all the eggs I hide behind. Seriously, this film is genuinely a game of connect-the-dots on stereotypical children's interests. It’s humourable, how absurd they sound, screaming about some random nonsensical bullshit with a monotone seriousness. Looking up, I watch the flurry of movement on set, studying how the camera pans from the actors to the blue wall behind them. It’s better to focus on the elements I came here to study, rather than the shitshow that is the film. Whilst I stare, I catch a glimpse of a man in a red jacket looking my way, hidden behind the rocks and eggs. Turning my attention towards him, I notice his clenched jaw and deadpan focus on me.

“Shit, my fuckup on set must have really pissed him off” I mutter under my breath whilst my eyes stay locked onto him. We stay like that for a few seconds, mixed emotions manifesting on my face, whilst he just stares. Lifting my eyes slightly, we make eye contact, prompting a wave of realisation to wash over his face, and he promptly turns his direction back to discussions on the next scene. It makes sense, his change in demeanour. If I was a fucking celebrity, the last thing I would want is a scandal of workplace abuse blown out of proportion.

___________

They’ve wrapped up today’s shooting. Thank God. The rest of the shoot was relatively uneventful, I was only asked to help set up a few camera scenes whilst the actors took their lunch break. However, that actor in the red jacket kept on looking my way, but only for a fleeting few seconds each time. It was bizarre really, how many times I swear I caught him staring: between scenes, during script conversations (arguments really), whenever the actors left the set. It was comical how I would see his head turn away from my direction in parallel to whenever I looked in his. What the fuck is his problem? Anyways. Hiding my glee, I turn away from the remaining crew on set, embarking back to the hotel where the cast and crew were staying. I put earphones in as I walk, putting “Never Let Me Down Again” by Depache Mode on blast and loop (tlou reference), watching the sky warp and twist with clouds straight out of Junji Ito. As I walk, I picture how much I would change about the godforsaken cash grab of a film: the story, the camera angles, the compositions, the-

“Hey.” A breathless voice behind me whispers, barely audible over the drums blaring into my ears. Turning, I immediately freeze, in the realisation that this was the red jacket man, the one with the fucking lead paint stare. What the fuck does he want?

“Oh! Hey. Look man, if you’re pissed that I was standing on set, I genuinely didn’t realise. I didn’t mean to look like a dick. I’m really sor-”

“Do you want to have sex with me?” He asks.

“What?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?” He repeats, louder.

“I heard you the first time,” I reply, stunned, eyes blinking at him widely.

“Oh, well do you?” He questions, voice full of intent.

“Uhh”, what the fuck do I say? Is he fucking high?

“Yes? That's amazing, now?” he follows, oblivious to my stunned face. He grips my hand tight, and begins to pull me towards the hotel. More for his welfare, I allow him to. If he is high, I sure as hell wouldn’t want to have to deal with an overdose, pushing back the shooting back date further.

“What’s your name? Mine’s Dieter Bravo, but you probably already know that. You know, Oscar Winner?” He asks excitedly, almost desperately.

“What?”

“What’s your name?” He repeats, obviously unfocused on me, but rather the journey ahead, which he slinks across, acting like a fucking ninja.

“Oh, y/n”. I reply flatly, still stunned by his blunt and forward character.

“So fucking beautiful, you know that? You’re so fucking beautiful. Couldn’t keep my eyes off you. Please let me fuck you?” He grumbles, eyes now locked onto mine, searching, savouring me.

“Sorry, but are you high?” I question, anxiety creeping up from my stomach. I seriously don’t want this to come off badly. God knows what he can do to my career, with the amount of money and “power”  that he holds.

“Oh! Just some coke, do you want some? I’ve got a fat stash back in my room, you’ll just have to ignore the paintings.

What do I say? First, he wants to fuck me, and now he’s offering me cocaine?

“Ummm, I’m okay actually,” I reply, eyes glued to his firm grip on my hand, leading me through the hotel like a stealth mission, stopping behind couches and desks, pulling me under them to hide from various staff and other residents. I swear we crept past Karen Gillan at one point. We continue this charade of playing ninjas until we stop at a door, undoubtedly his room’s.

“Wait, do you seriously want to fuck me?” I start, a chuckle bubbling underneath my voice. “I mean, you’re a fucking A-lister and you’re high off coke right now”. This entire situation is so absurd I cannot.

“You’re an angel y/n, and I’m so pent up right now, I feel like an animal.” He replies, voice full of truth. And he isn’t wrong at all. On our journey, I had noticed him grabbing his crotch a few more times than necessary, and adjusting it quite a lot too. Truthfully, it did make me question whether or not I would submit to his desperate plea for pleasure.

“Fuck.”

I genuinely think he wants to fuck me.

“Fine. Okay. I think we can do this.” There. I said it. Listening to my own voice consent to having sex with Dieter fucking Bravo generates a wave of excited shivers across my body, mirroring the relieved smile that sprawls across his face.

“Let’s have some fun.”

___________

Inside his room, it is clear to see that the restrictions in the bubble have taken a toll on him. Scattered across the walls there are various paintings depicting almost hellish figures, staring down at us. As I study them, Dieter dims the lights and begins to undress, changing into nothing but a dressing gown. Anticipation creeps across my body, giving my head a slight buzz. Turning to me, Dieter’s chest becomes visible: scattered lightly with hair, but enough to give them a fuzzy look and feel. His thighs also peek out nicely, thick and inviting. Jesus Christ, why did the costume department dress him so ugly? This scruffy, out-of-bed look is much more attractive, and the colour of his gown suits him much better than the neon of his Character’s jacket. As I force my eyes to peel away from his body, I notice him staring directly at me. In exactly the same way as earlier today. Was that his flirting? Or dropping hints? I thought he wanted to kill me, but I guess he just wanted me. Instead of hatred, his eyes are filled with lust and animalistic intent, he wants me like a fucking drug.

“So-” I begin, stopped by his hand suddenly covering my mouth. His proximity engulfs me with his scent: musky, woody, sweaty and also quite sweet, almost floral. His dick has definitely been leaking for a while. Stepping even closer, our chests almost touching, he stares down at me, eyes burning into my own. Slowly, he removes his hand off my mouth and grabs my chin, pulling my face up to look at him. We stay in silence like this for a few seconds, both reading each other's faces, enveloped in the erotic tension.

“You’re so beautiful, y/n.”

And with that, the tension breaks, cascading us in a downpour of lust and need. Our bodies clash, pushing and pulling each other closer, our hips grinding as we kiss. His lips are chapped, but still soft, scratching over mine satisfyingly. His tongue reaches into my mouth while mine battles its way into his, both attempting to overcome the other. They connect and move over each other slickly, electrifying my body and increasing my newfound desire for Dieter. As we make out, our faces push closer and closer, his beard scruff dancing over my skin, their path leaving an electrifying buzz. I smile as we kiss, intoxicated by his desire, his desperation for sex. As we kiss, I can feel his growing boner press against my hip, shrouded by his gown that sports quite a large tent. He groans against me, a guttural sound that reverberates in my mouth. I push into that feeling further, watching him become completely engrossed in our French kiss. His hands roam freely, moving away from my face and down my arms, and stopping with our fingers interlocked. Suddenly, he pushes me down onto his bed, dipping his head down to not break our kiss. Seemingly unwillingly, our mouths depart and he stands above me.

His gown is barely holding in his package, The ribbon basically untied, but keeping his manhood hidden. It is very evident that he intends to give a show, which I think is quite comical. Of course, the fucking celebrity actor would want to take control of this scene and make me savour his big reveal.

Teasingly, he starts by grabbing my hand and trailing it down his chest. I take the liberty of pinching his nipples lightly, evoking an involuntary moan. Then, he pulls my hand down lower, whilst I run my fingers through his chest hair. In the dim lighting, the glow golden, with hints of silver, no doubt a reminder of our age gap. But he doesn’t care, and neither do I. He stops my hand at the knot of the ribbon and lets go.

“If he gets to enjoy this, then so do I” I think, taking my time to admire his treasure trail and the bottom of his stomach. I playfully teeter around the ribbon knot, teasing him as he did me.

“Please.” He speaks with a whisper, eyes full of longing and need. But I can feel him hold himself back, avoiding rushing our moment.

Complying, I swiftly undo the knot, and allow the robe to fall to the sides of his legs.

Fuck.

His cock fell forward towards me with undeniable intent. It definitely reached past seven inches, and under the soft glow, the glossiness of precum over its head was undeniable. A soft gasp emerged from the depths of my throat as I stared, entranced. Dieter’s cock was going to be the death of me.

“Suck it.”

Looking up at Dieter, I could see him shift away from his desperate self towards a more dominant one. He and I both knew that this was going to be intense. His eyes held a fury in them, driven by his need to fuck. It definitely had been a while since he had got any action. I guess that many others he must have asked didn't hear him out at all. The veins in his dick were so defined, throbbing with an urgency. With each throb, a glob of precum spilt out, coating his manhood in a thick, slick lube. Fuck.

Staring up into his eyes, I leant forward and licked his tip. As I did, I watched his entire body shake, an involuntary reaction to how touch-starved he was. A moan emerged from the back of his throat, guttural and low, making my skin form into goosebumps.

I began to lower myself further down his cock, slowly pressing my face into his hair. I could smell the sweat from the day’s work that coated his cock and balls, creating a sweet but heavy aroma that caused me to moan onto his dick. I inhaled sharply, catching every whiff that I could, intoxicated. Still staring into his deep, pleading eyes, I stopped sucking and moved to his balls, placing one into my mouth and sucking teasingly, inhaling his scent. His dick lay over my face with a distinct weight, thrusting into my hair, coating my skin with his precum. Still keeping eye contact, I watched his mouth open and close, gawking and stunned by the pleasure he was experiencing. I swapped between his balls and cock regularly, making sure to never break eye contact, watching Dieter fall further and further into a lust-driven state. Whilst I sucked, I could feel his thighs shaking with ecstasy. Keeping him in my mouth, I wrapped and slithered my tongue up the base and around his head. I revelled in the salty taste of his precum, savouring every drop. I slipped my tongue under his hood, running at the base of his head. This prompted another series of involuntary moans on his behalf, stimulating my own cock to start throbbing through my clothes, desperate for touch.

Without warning, I felt his hands on the back of my head, gripping tightly into my hair. Immediately, he started thrusting into me, fucking my mouth. His thrusts were in quick succession, fueled by excessive desire. He filled my mouth entirely, his taste coating every surface, saliva dripping from the sides of my face and down the base of his cock. The room was filled with the scent of sweat and musk and the sound of his balls slapping onto my jaw whilst he let out desperate pants and groans. His movements were frantic and obsessive, gripping into my hair with a desperate need. His hands were clammy, his fingers locking and slipping around my curls whilst he fucked my face. Tears streamed down my face whilst Dieter abused my mouth, ignoring my gags and moans. My cock was so fucking hard, pressing into my trousers with a desperate need to be touched. Jesus fucking Christ.

His thrusting became more rapid, and his moans increased in volume and speed. He was growling with such animalistic intent, in total heat whilst wrecking my face.

“Ah- fuck- I’m gonna cum baby-”

His seed filled my mouth with a final thrust, letting out a hoarse and guttural succession of moans. We stayed there for a few seconds, his breathing heavy, and his body shuddering above me. His cum was so sweet and thick, forcing me to gulp down loads of mess. Pulling out from my mouth, the rest of his seed leaving him. In a trance, I felt him pushing it over my cheeks and lips, coating me with his sperm. Looking up at him whilst it dripped down to my chin, his eyes full of relief and pleasure.

“Holy Shit.” I didn’t know what to say.

“Ready for more, angel?”

Dieter flopped onto the bed next to me, his breath heavy.

Immediately, he turned towards me, planting his chapped lips onto mine. We kissed passionately, fueled by a connection previously inconceivable. His hands explored my body, tugging up my T-shirt and kneading his hands into my skin. He was rough, dominant and needing. He gripped the bare skin of my back tightly, pulling me closer to him, our bodies pressing and interlocking tightly. Reaching down the back of my trousers, I felt his finger pressing on my hole. He circled his finger around my entrance, pressing slightly, causing a moan to emerge from my lips. Removing his hands from my ass and his mouth from mine, he placed his fingers into my mouth.

“Spit.”

Instinctively, I did. Immediately, He went back to my asshole, inserting his index slowly, causing my back to arch into him. He pressed in and out, loosening my hole slowly. I couldn’t stop moaning into him, pushing myself down further against him. As he finger fucked my hole, he started thrusting bare body against me, grinding his cock across my thigh, dripping precum onto my trousers. Slowly, almost timidly, he reached down my body to my bulge, applying pressure heavily. Holy Shit. I was in ecstasy, in pure bliss and overstimulation. He unbuttoned my trousers desperately, fueled by desire, exposing my boxers to the room. The front was wet with precum, clinging to my member.

Suddenly, he straddled on top of me, pulling down my trousers and boxers to my ankle. Immediately, my cock sprung up to my belly button, leaving a small pool of precum. Removing all my clothes fully, leaving my body exposed to the dim room, he lifted my legs, resting them on his shoulders.

He quickly lubed my hole, pushing his finger deep into me as he did so. It shocked me, engrossing me in a sudden wave of pleasure. Then, positioning his dick, I felt his member push into me slowly, meeting resistance from my hole, straining against his girth.

“Fuck, so goddamn tight”, he grunted, pressing slightly harder. With a satisfying pop, his tip entered, arching my neck back. I looked deep into his eyes, unable to generate sound from the pure ecstasy. Gently, he inserted his deep length inside me, making low cooing noises, soothing my discomfort. Eventually, he was fully inside me, my hole wrapped around his cock. We stayed unmoving, Dieter engrossed with how my ass clung to his dick desperately. Teasingly, I moved my ass slightly, pulling his cock deeper into me, now fully balls deep.

“Oh”, a soft moan escaped his mouth, wrapping around me in the silent room. Soon followed the clear sound of his dick pulling out and pushing back, his balls slapping my cheeks.  Dieter's hands wrapped around mine, pushing me back completely against the bed, and leaned closer, going deeper and stretching my legs higher. Quickly, his thrusts increased, engulfing us in moans and soft-spoken curses towards each other. Wave after wave of pleasure buzzed my head and made my tip throb. His lips met mine and we started kissing, fueled by desire and need. He fucked me mercilessly, stretching my hole wide to fit his girth and length nicely. His breath was heavy into my mouth, followed by growls that made my cock twitch. His beard scratched my face nicely, sending small bursts of pain, heightening my sensitive state.

I could feel my orgasm rising, my cock head getting hot and my cock throbbing. I couldn’t even let out any noise to warn Dieter,  assuddenly I was engulfed in a blinding wave of hot bliss from his onslaught on my prostate. Spurts of cum erupted from my cock, painting out stomachs, tying us together. Yet Dieter didn’t stop, fueled by my pleasure. Instead, his thrusts increased, overstimulating my entire body. I felt his hands move from mine to the back of my head, pushing me to look directly into his eyes. His thrusts were relentless, going deeper each time, stretching my insides into his personal fucktoy. My moans were neverending, creating a chorus with Dieter’s deep growls. Still looking into my eyes, he leant his body onto mine, and began to absolutely abuse my hole. He fucked me like a dog, his eyes seemingly glowing with pure energy and pleasure. Picking up even more speed, I felt his manhood throb, close to coming again.

“Where do you want it,” is all he could ask between heavy breaths, holding back his orgasm with undefined strength.

“In me.”

I felt Dieter erupt in me, his load filling every crevice. It leaked out my asshole, down the base of his member. Pulling out completely, he admired his work, then pushed himself back in, impregnanting me again. We moaned into each other, kissing messily, completely in the moment. He stayed inside me for a few minutes, getting soft as we just laid there, comprehending what we had just done. Pulling out, my hole was a gaping mess, leaking with his seed.

Lying next to me, cum dripping off his cock, his face became plastered with a smile. He scooped up a glob of his cum, mixed it with the pool of mine on my stomach, and brought it to my lips.

“Swallow.” I did.

“Good.”

The world was so silent. Neither of us spoke, our breaths slowing gradually. Turning to him, looking into his eyes, I could tell he was eternally grateful, and I was happy too with being his bitch, even though it was so wrong. But it was so right.

“Can we make this a weekly thing? I asked, desperate for him again.

“Weekly? Nah. Daily?” He replied. He was addicted. To me, to my body, to how our bodies moved in unison, driven by lust and depravation.

A small chuckle emerged from his chest. A hearty laugh, melting my belly into a hot mess. A comfortable laugh, like a warm hug after a shitty day.

I wouldn’t mind getting addicted to Dieter.

[lucabyte]

If you wouldn't mind, could you explain to me in detail how your sifloop works? Would there ever be a romantic relationship between the two (and how do you think they would get to that stage) or do you just think they'll be stuck in this weird messed up obsession and loathing loop forever? Anyway your takes on sifloop are my favourite if you couldn't tell

Oh, I've been depicting it as romantic the whole time (remembers I'm asexual and aromantic and thus my depictions of such are alien at best) Er, though you'd be forgiven for not noticing.

I know I don't draw them being particularly traditionally cute (kissing, cuddling, etc) (even though I do envision that any time it's not literally extremely inconvenient that they are entangled like a pair of magnetised squiddles) particularly often.*

(Though, I do have some hints at that kind of behaviour: (x) (x) (x)) But this is where, hm, my particular readings of these characters' self-assessment comes in.

I believe that I (an aroace tumblr user who has been immersed in nuianced language about such things since i was an early teen) and Siffrin/Loop (a guy approaching their thirties who seems to have escaped social pressures primarily via isolation from their peers) will have some different views on things. Hell, Sif/Loop don't even have words for Asexuality and Aromanticism even if they seem to be able to point toward the feeling with roundabout language.

I think that their relationship, in the way that it would manifest, would first and foremost be Physical. Some real Maslow's hierarchy shit. Both of them are viciously touch starved and given the whole shared-ownership-of-body thing I keep alluding to (x) (x) I think they are prone to being a tangled pile of limbs both clothed and unclothed.

Now I (enlightened modern day asexual) do not think that physical/sexual/romantic are in any way synonyms unless you want them to be. I believe that literally all associated behaviours of these can be platonic if that's how you feel about it. Howeverrrrrrr. I really cannot envision "black-and-white-thinking-world-champion siffrin and/or loop" being able to disentangle that so easily. I think they would have trouble squaring the circle of certain actions not being reserved for romance, at least not until after several years of continued unpacking and philosophical discussion with Mirabelle and Odile.

And then there's the part where Siffrin/Loop (and also Isabeau!) have some absolutely insane Jealous streaks. Not even on the downlow, they just do. I think that combination of jealousy and posessiveness when paired with unevenly splitting time between A Guy You're Established To Be (at the very least on his side, romantically) In Love With, and Your Weird Fucking Clone Who You Keep Being Intimate And Intensely Emotional With, is going to cause some problems when it comes to labelling things.

I do not think Sif/Loop are stupid, but man do they ever lack emotional intelligence in a lot of areas (a thing the whole game hammers home). I do not think that they would be level-headed enough to independently invent the idea of "QPR, but the kind where you do basically fuck sometimes". I think they would just (agonise over cheating, first of all.) call it a romantic pairing and be done with it.

And then Isabeau is also there I guess. I gesture at him and at my aforementioned Iseabeau Torment Nexus thoughts (x)(x). I believe this polycule can work and even be healthy but hahahaha oh man they are gonna have some weirrrrrrd fuckin tension beforehand lolllll.

as for how i think they'd get to that stage? lol, lmao. I think of things with a lens of 'what would be the most narratively intense' a lot of the time, so my answer there is:

They basically act like one right out of the gate, at least to the average onlooker**. This makes the fights feel worse. This makes them both paranoid in different ways about how this affects Siffrin's relationship to Isabeau. This makes it more difficult for the party to go "hey so, your friend, we're all being very accepting of their sharp edges because they're clearly someone who's struggling, but why are they suuuuch an asshole?". They fret about this and it causes more push and pull as either side feels guilty about this relationship they're not 'supposed' to have. Even if their relationship woes could easily be squared away by either categorising it as a QPR or talking to Isa (who is vaugardian and probably thus lax about polyamory) neither of them are going to do that right out of the gate because they lack the language, are prone to being wracked by guilt, often assume the worst will happen should they talk about difficult topics, and straight up maybe just see intimacy/sexuality/romance as a package deal due to lacking the social expertise... You see what I mean.

I don't Know if what I envision is... The literal platonic ideal of "A Romantic Relationship". I don't know that if Cupid came on down and inspected my brain that they'd agree that this is romantic and not just like, something really fucking weird, man. I don't even know if I would call it romantic, necessarily. BUT. I Do Think. That These Two. Would Maybe Label It That Way. Because it would make it easier for them to understand and come to peace with that way. Which is what matters. Labels are Descriptive, not Prescriptive.

What I DO think i envision however is something so fucking aroace brained that i can point to sif/loop's canon labels, point to MY labels, and then give you a big thumbs up hoping that you won't get on my ass for implying several sentences upstream that "they probably basically fuck, or something, idk, does star-sucking count as sex? i'm not a doctor nor medical professional of any kind. you probably shouldn't drink whatever comes out of it though"

Implicit question 2: "Jesus Christ you make them seem to hate each other, is that not contradictory? Is that all supposed to be during them being romantically involved?" Yup! Sorry for the subtle undercurrent I haven't previously explicitly and overtly established literally at all but a good chunk of that percieved hatred is a byproduct of Loop keeping their identity secret. That's the space wherein I set most of my fanart. (x) Once that cat is out of the bag I think the heat cools off significantly because then they aren't both talking around each other trying not to actually say what they're fighting about. They can actually bond about shared experiences out in the open rather than keeping their traps shut in case the party overhears. They still fight and have problems thereafter, but it's not made worse by being unable to directly discuss the core issue (+ the party can actually contribute/try to shut things down rather than being unclear on what exactly the issue is)

The above ALSO not helping when it comes to jealousy/feelings of infidelity re: Isabeau. (When specifically in the context of Romantic Frustration here, since that jealousy extends to the whole party when generalised) So that adds another thing to, not necessarily fight about, but be bitter over.

As for hatred being contradictory. Mmm. Nah.

The opposite of Love is not Hate. It is Indifference. (A theme ISAT notably gets at). Hate is distinctly something you do if you care. Often if you care Way Too Much.

I try not to write them hating each other, so much as feeling extremely intensely about each other. (x)

Feeling intensely Thankful, Understood, Sorry, Trapped, Devoted, Jealous, Protective, Pitying, Indebted...

^ Scary ! Complicated ! Hard to deal with ! Even the positive ones can be overwhelming! It's gonna make things weird!

So uh, Yeah. There's your answer? I suppose tl;dr: I view relationships as nebulous and only defined by those in it. (This is something I have previously yapped about at length in essays about my OCs lol) And generally view that there's no "true" label for any relationship except the one that doesn't cause undue distress. (which. i mean it does here. but it probably works out in the end with enough talking)

Asking me to define if something is romantic is like asking me to pin down the true form of the Human Soul. Like dawg i dont know how to do that i dont even know if that shit is real. there are merely actions and their constructed societal categories. If i tell you I think they kiss sometimes does that clear it up? (It shouldn't, obviously, but you get what I mean)

But yeah. Gestures broadly. Shipping an ace (and maybe even aroace based on some shit that little fella says) character like this means it comes with an essay. Because it necessarily interfaces with their nonstandard mode of interaction in that arena. The part where its weirdo fucking ♠ ♥ ♦ ♣ selfcest merely adds a layer.***

... Anyway I'll leave you with this. The mirasifloop qpr "so what is.... romance?" discussion sessions are probably downright dialectical aren't they. Feelings Buddies discuss the phrase "Self-Love" 23467324235 dead 3 injured

*i do have like . 2 wips. that would. include this kind of behaviour explicitly. but i simply have not gotten around to them yet. and also don't worry neither of them are purely fluff both of them still have an air of worrying fuckedupedness about them. yay !

** inkeeping with my "geared for maximal conflict" mind, this can be flavoured with some "technically nobody can say it's not canon, I guess?" during-the-game Sifloop. By handing them the 'started leaning on each other for comfort more blatantly toward the end of a4' thing, since, well, I think exploring the "Loop expected at least one of them to be dead by the end of this/Loop never expected this to end, and thus began filling in that 'Lover' role as comfort/pity/selfishness/mercy given their knowledge that Isabeau is forever out of reach for both of/at least one of them" angle is... Well it's certainly fuckin' compelling that's for sure. Like oops, you let the timeloop malaise get to you and maybe started a trist because you thought you'd be dead before there'd be any lasting consequences. Here's those consequences, motherfucker !! But you won't catch me putting that explicitly in my comics because I don't want to change anything about the raw text of canon when I'm exploring its consequences. However, nothing I do is Incompatible with this read. And I enjoy making things more tortured so. Shrugs and hands this to you. Be free. (....x)

*** those of you that know what i mean by this just had all of it click just now didnt you. lol.

[phoenixyfriend]

Remember my post about Anakin pulling a Mike Murdock? Yeah, no, I have a full on AU concept now (with contributions by @threebea! indented)!

He lies so hard about having a brother that the universe invents a twin from scratch for him. It happens when Anakin is like twelve.

Anakin was just committing to the bit on a mission because he was bored.

The Force was also bored.

Oh no Anakin force manifests a sibling Obi-Wan: …That's not how the Force works. Anakin: You tell the Force that. Obi-Wan: Well, I suppose this would be your half-brother since the Force is your shared parent. Obi-Wan after the initial shock: This might as well happen.

New brother is better at some things and worse at others, as any person is. Anakin is, naturally, a fucking mess about all that, worries he'll be replaced, etc.

Obi-Wan just brings this to the Council and nobody can DENY this Skywalker from the Jedi after they already took the first one. So. Mace volunteers.

This Skywalker is a bit more Force than Anakin, got glowing eyes and visions and the Animal Communion buff. But is worse at flying, worse at tech, and unfathomably worse at people. Which is a FEAT, since Anakin's not too hot at social skills in the first place.

Mace has his hands full in many ways, including "keep this child from walking face first into the wall."

Obi-Wan: We are not calling him Anagain.

Anakin had many mixed feelings but! If he's going to have family then he's going to commit!

The other option is that the brother is younger by enough that the Older Brother instincts kick in, but I think the one-sided twin rivalry is funnier.

Anakin: I'm a big brother now. Anagain: I think we're supposed to be twins. Anakin: I have more worldly experience. Anagain: I'm taller. Anakin: wut Anagain: alpha twin alpha twin (that's his nickname until you come up with actual name lol) Obi-Wan: Well, I'm taller than both of you, and while that is the case you both need to listen to me. Anagain: (flash of foresight) So, not for long Obi-Wan: What? Anagain: Nothing. Mace: (the Shatterpoints are blinding) Yeah, I'll be taking this one. More seriously tho, Anakin definitely torn between what if everyone likes him better he's born from the force what if he's the chosen one what if and also: I have a brother I have family I need to take care of him. Probably some fun twin force bond too. Oh man Sheev after digesting all of that would definitely try to get some jealousy going.

Anakin talks about the new brother with terms like Freshly Hatched and Innocent Baby and it's mostly a joke except that now HE thinks Palps is a creep when it's aimed at Not Him.

Palpatine: When do I get to meet him? Anakin: [absolutely not] Mace won't let him [Yeah that'll work] Mace: Yeah, absolutely not, he didn't help save Naboo there's no reason for my Padawan to have a relationship with the Supreme Chancellor

I've decided to call the brother Aion (EY-yon). I like the whole thing about Anakin's name being based on Ananke, even if it's a disputed thing, so I go for Greek myth when doing alt names for siblings.

Mace still bitter about having to let Palps get time with Anakin not about to do the same if he can help it. Although that comic takes place later eh (handwaves) still The Jedi might try to be hush hush about where aion came from anyway since he would fall directly under Jedi business

Help I'm imagining Mace and Obi-Wan on a walk and the twins are on child leashes. Anakin because ADHD will have him trying to run off to look at something. And Aion because he's going to be so distracted by visions that he will walk into traffic.

"Can we send a letter to mom so she knows he exists?" The other thought was ANAKIN holding the child leash for Aion, and then Obi-Wan or Mace holding the one for Anakin. Lil chain.

Aion: Hey… I know I've only existed for a few months, and yes my memories of before are sort of built by the Force, but I'm pretty sure the Supreme Chancellor is evil. Mace: You saw that in a vision? Aion: No, he's just super creepy. Bad vibes.

Obi-Wan: Of course he's evil, he's a career politician. Anakin: What about your friend from Alderaan? Obi-Wan: That's different.

One of these boys is constantly zoning out. The other is smiling, but the smile contains murder.

They're both adhd but with wildly different sides of it.

EXACTLY

Also.

Aion: [silent, a bit upset but mostly chill] Anakin, holding his hand: He asked for no pickles!

[uglypastels]

Hey can you do a coffee shop AU ab Gambit where the reader works at the shop Remy frequents? But one day there’s an attack and her mutation manifests?? Love your writing!

stick with me as I try to figure out how to write his accent lol. it's just a quick and fun lil thang but i hope you like it. [also, is this my first ever coffee shop au?? it might be. don't quote me on that tho]

warnings: slight cursing. supervillain attack.

~ X-Men Requests Open ~ Masterlist ~

‘Will that be the usual, Remy?’ You already pulled out the paper cup to write his name and order on it, looking up expectantly for him to confirm your suspicion.

‘You know it, chere.’ 

‘One cafe au lait, coming up.’ You chirped with a smile, noting it down on the side of the cup. Like the well-oiled machine the two of you have become over the past weeks, he didn’t need to hear the price and just slid a five-dollar bill across the counter and pushed another exact bill through the slit of the little tip jar next to the register.

‘Well, you know,’ and just like any other time, you couldn’t help but comment on his generosity, ‘you really don’t have to do all that. It’s just coffee.’ As much as you appreciated his gesture, a twinge of guilt struck you as he practically paid double for what already was an overpriced beverage.

‘It ain't for the coffee,’ he smirked, which, with a flash of heat, immediately radiated onto your cheeks. It all happened like clockwork, and so you reminded yourself that that’s just who he was.  You were sure he did it with anyone, so you mustn’t let it get to you. To not get too hung up over a customer who made it a habit throughout his day to flirt with his barista.

‘Here ya go,’ you presented him with the drink. 

‘I donno how you do it, belle,’ Remy said after his first sip, a satisfied expression spreading over his face. ‘Perfect. Evry time.’

‘Why, thank you.’ You reciprocated his smile, but really, it was no big deal. You were just doing your job—something that was only easier considering your talents. Practically being a human heat conductor made preparing a perfect cup o’ joe fairly simple. Still, when a charming Cajun walked into your establishment and showered you in compliments on a nearly daily basis, the effect might have been a bit stronger than a one-off comment from a stranger. No matter how hard you tried, it was impossible to deny his allure. 

For a Tuesday morning, the café was surprisingly clear of customers besides a couple of taken tables at the windows, where some early birds had begun their day by reading the paper or getting a headstart on their work. And so, with no line rushing him off behind him, Remy sipped his coffee right by your side. 

‘Say, don’t you have somewhere else to be, Rem?’ you teased as you wiped the counter.

‘With a beautiful lady righ in front of me, there ain't nowhere I rather be.’

‘Oh, shush, you.’ You tried to ignore it, but the steam coming off from the once wet handtowel you used to clean was saying differently. Both of you were about to open your mouths, the snarky banter already dripping from both your lips, but that all faltered as the ground beneath you shook. The soft ambience brought on by the instrumental music playing in the background over the speakers was overrun by the aggressive shaking of all the products and measuring jugs falling to the ground. But soon, even that was silenced by the screams that followed. A stampede of morning commuters was running through the street, eyes wide and pale with fear. 

‘What the–’ you muttered out, carefully making your way to the window. Perhaps not the smartest move, but the curiosity had gotten the better of you. And it sure had; as right as you had reached your lookout point, all your senses were thrown off guard by an explosion. The world around you turned upside down— or was that just you as you were thrown off your feet and across the room following a million pieces of shattered glass? 

You were ready to fall into the puddle of shards, but instead, you were met with the hold of two strong arms, and once you dared to open your eyes, you saw a pair of glowing red ones. 

‘You alright?’ Remy put you down on the ground. 

Still, in shock, all you could respond with was a nod. You watched as Remy made his way across the glass-covered floor, calling out to the fear-stricken people in the café. 

‘Is gonna be all right, everyone.’ He helped a lady get back up on her feet and make her way to the back of the room. ‘Stay inside. Get z’away from the street.’ And even though you wanted to listen to his command, you found yourself walking back towards him. 

‘What are you doing, cher?’ With his hand on your shoulder, he held you back from taking another step. 

‘I wanna help.’ It was clear enough to you that he was about to fight whatever it was that was scaring all those people outside, and there was no way in hell you’d let him go out there on his own. 

‘Do you even know what you’re up against?’ 

‘Do you?’ you hit back, and that response clearly pleased him. The worry on his lips turned up into a smirk. So, the barista had a spark to her. It didn’t surprise him, necessarily. If anything, the excitement from seeing this side of you sparked a rush through his whole body. 

Side by side, you ran out into the street, avoiding the last few incomers who were trying their best to escape whatever it was you were about to greet. And what that was, you soon found out. All you had to do was look up into the sky.

‘Le Bon Dieu.’ Remy cursed under his breath.

‘Damn.’ You gasped at the sight of what you could only describe to be a giant robot floating above the tall buildings. Eyes glowing with a fire that burst in jetstreams of destruction.

Perhaps you were way in over your head, getting into a fight with a steel giant, fighting with a nearly complete stranger, and yet, when you looked up at him, and your eyes met, you had a feeling that you’d be just fine.

the end.

thank you for reading 💗

if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗

[707heart]

Sebastian or Harvey with someone who's really shy? If that's alright!

hey! this is my first time writing in second-person so it might sound a little cray lol. i hope you enjoyed this! also i wrote abt sebastian because i have never romanced harvey </3

sebastian x shy farmer

wc: 761

You clutched the edges of your formal outfit. You had never liked parties. The noise, the chaos. You suppose this is why you spend so much time at the farm, doing the work that needs to be done. It made a good distraction from actually speaking to the people in the town.

Your best friend, Maru, dragged you through the crowds of people in introduction. It was nothing short of overwhelming, your breathing picking up.

“I need a break,” you said. Maru must have saw the look of horror on your face, because she let you go, making up some excuse to the group before excitedly asking Marnie about her chickens.

Walking to the edge of the clearing in the forest, you spot a figure resting against one of the trees, cigarette in mouth. Once his dark eyes met yours, he was waiting for you to get closer. He had a smile pasted on his face, cig hanging between his lips.

“Wasn’t expecting you to show up. You look really nice,” Sebastian said, offering you his cigarette like he always did. You waved it off like you always did.

You were in no state to talk, too ravaged by all of the socialization you had just been put through. Still, his company was soothing in a way.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian asked, nudging your shoulder gently.

“Oh! Yeah, just a little overwhelmed,” you mumbled.

Sebastian hummed, taking one final drag before stomping out the cigarette with his polished black boots. It was rare to see him in this sot of getup. You were used to the black hoodie and ripped denim jeans.

“I get it. Me too. I always loiter here at parties,” Sebastian replied, turning to you and smiling gently. It was a smile that had only been reserved for you lately, and you were enjoying the attention.

Still, Sebastian flirting with you sometimes made you feel like a hermit crab without a shell. You flushed, turning away. He looked back toward the crowd.

“You know, you could always be my dance partner. I mean, since we have to do the stupid dance anyway,” Sebastian shrugged, raising an eyebrow at you.

Internally, you screamed. Sebastian asking you to be his partner?

Your skin felt hot, your outfit suddenly feeling a lot tighter. He turned to you. “What do you say?” he asked, raking his eyes over you in a way that made you light up.

—

After the dance, the crowd began to trickle out. Going in front of everyone was kind of a nightmare, but you got through it by maintaining eye contact with Sebastian. Falling into those eyes was easy.

Sebastian stood next to you, the sun setting off of the forest cliff. Slowly, his pinky interlocked with yours. Then the index, then middle, and soon your hands were funny intertwined. He squeezed tight.

“I’ve really liked spending time with you, you know,” Sebastian murmured, lips dangerously close to your ear. “You make good company.”

“I think you’re the first person to say that about me,” you replied with a nervous smile. You drummed up the courage to face him, squeezing his hand.

Sebastian laughed, shaking his head. “I think people just don’t know you very well. But I do,” he said, reaching to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “And I like what I know.”

You blinked up at him, letting out a deep breath that you didn’t know you were holding. Sebastian took your free hand, setting it on his chest. “Do you want me to kiss you?” he asked, a shyness of his own manifesting in his voice. You were close now, closer than the two of you had ever been.

You nodded, nipping at your bottom lip in anticipation. Your heart was rattling in your chest, rapidly pumping blood through your body in a way that made your head spin. The hand that was touching your hair moved to your jawline.

Slowly, he leaned down to press your lips together. You felt the cool metal of his lip piercing meet your skin. He reached up to hold your hand that was lying on his chest, pressing it further into the material of his shirt.

He laughed against your lips, kissing your cheek. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he mumbled against the skin there. “Even when I thought you hated me at first, I wanted to.”

It made you laugh and gently whack his chest. “I told you I get nervous!” you said, leaning up to chase him for another kiss.

[silverzoomies]

Cunning Linguist

pietro maximoff x reader smut

warnings: cunnilingus, porn with (slight) plot, blow jobs, dissociative identity disorder, dissociation, existential crisis, smut, shameless smut, halloween, canon divergence

word count: 3,990

a/n: i meant to finish this ages ago. but i always overthink shit. i rewrote this several times, and it still doesn't feel worth posting. oh well !! just meaningless filth - same old story, different clothing. i wanted to play with the concept of pietro as an alter in ralph's head. again. lol

he's a little ooc here. but i'm blaming the brain fog. i'm running on three hours of sleep every night. fuck it, we ball. also, not including a tag list because tumblr's system kinda sucks for it. sorry !!

Pietro recalled the moment his consciousness came to light.

Agnes waved her spooky hands in his face, as though she were taunting him. She muttered incantations under her breath. The words of which Pietro didn’t recognize as English. After implanting sentimental memories in his mind - based on stories of Wanda’s childhood - she sent him off on his own. Like letting a dog loose, free to roam. 

Pietro’s mission? Find Wanda, have a gabfest or two, extract information. Or something along those lines. Pietro hadn’t paid much attention while Agnes yapped about it. Why focus on that, when the mystery of his own sentience piqued his interest instead?

He was given an easy enough job to do. No problem-o. Pietro had a talent for pestering people til’ they cracked. That’s what Agnes told him, anyway. He wasn’t too sure why she wanted him to play undercover rat. It had something to do with magic. Pietro knew that much. There was some kinda witch-on-witch rivalry in the works. But unfortunately for Agnes - and maybe fortunately for Wanda - she might have to take a raincheck on her duel of the sorceresses.  

Pietro could be a bit of a dipshit. Was he stupid? Not so much. He had brains where it counted. He could be crafty. Even sneaky. But his expert level slyness didn’t make him any less of an idiot. Pietro couldn’t refute that factoid about himself. Around Wanda, he forgot how to function like a normal person. Which he blamed on the fact that he wasn’t a normal person. Being brutally honest with himself; Pietro technically wasn’t even a person at all.

More like a conceptual incarnation of human sentience, really. Simple enough.

No ifs, ands, or buts about it, though - Pietro carried the irksome flaws of a human. Often, he acted thoughtless when he didn’t mean to. Without filtering himself first, Pietro unapologetically spoke his mind. He’d drop fourth-wall breaking quips here or there. Sometimes, his careless habits made for entertaining slip ups. Perfect for sitcom shenanigans. Other times, his blunders resulted in pain. Lotsa pain.

Halloween night, Pietro found himself whisked away by a forceful wave. Conjured by Wanda’s potent magic. The same power Agnes wanted her wiggly witch fingers on. After going aerial in a wild whoosh, Pietro got up close and friendly with some Halloween decorations. But, hey, what’re a few broken bones between pseudo siblings, eh?

Wanda sure had a helluva temper. She quickly banished Pietro from ever setting foot in her house again. Talk about a major bummer. Pietro suffered a huge loss on that front. One part because he’d have no choice but to crash with Agnes again. Ninety nine parts because he’d miss his troublemaking nephews. Those fun, lil scamps.

Tough luck, Quickie. Try and do better next time.

Honestly, he’d prefer if there wasn’t a next time.  If Agnes wanted to make small talk so bad, she could do it on her own. Calling it quits for the night, Pietro wandered off to a Westview bar. To his surprise, he found the place still in operation. And despite Pietro’s memories - vague imagery of Busch beer cans crushed under his fist - he hadn’t had a beer since his consciousness manifested. Shit. Did he even like beer? Whether he cared for it or not, a subconscious instinct drew him to it.

He assumed that instinct was none other than Ralph himself. The poor dude wanted to drown his terror in alcohol. And after all the twisted shit Agnes put Ralph through; who was Pietro to deny him one of life's simplest pleasures?

The mellow atmosphere of the bar oozed Halloween spirit. Kinda unnecessary, in retrospect. Considering Wanda never stopped by for a drink. Why bother sprucing the place up with her wispy magic, if it never saw any use?

The bartender’s clever quips reminded Pietro of Cheers. Another totally bonkers concept. Pietro had memories of watching Cheers, sure. But he couldn’t decipher if they were Ralph’s or not. For all Pietro knew, they might be a part of the ‘dead brother’ package deal. False memories, meant to give Wanda someone to relate to. Making him liable to tear down her defenses when she least expected it. 

But why did Pietro get the sense he was more of a Frasier guy anyway?

Sitting at the bar on a rickety stool, Pietro spun around to satiate his boredom. He cradled a beer, inhaling all of it in a single beat. Superspeed really did have its ups and downs. Consider quick consumption a positive. As far as negatives go…well…inebriation was completely unattainable. Sucks for Ralph. As Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer, he tuned his ears to a radio broadcast. On a shelf amidst dollar store Halloween decor; a radio droned old fashioned tales of wicked witches. Subtle.

Outside interference interrupted the broadcast. Voices intermingled between buzzes of static. Whispering soft, but panicked mantras of 'Wanda? Wanda, are you there?' Pietro narrowed his beady eyes. His ignorance of the world outside Westview should’ve stayed intact. But whatever the reason, he knew exactly where those voices came from. Why he carried such knowledge was anyone’s guess. Maybe Agnes let too much her own insight slip into his psyche. Whoopsies. Oh well. Shrugging, Pietro flagged down the bartender for another beer. Deja vu.

Bored outta his mind, his thoughts explored elsewhere.

Pietro dreamt of something a little more down to earth. He remembered a cutie-pie neighbor new to Westview. A ‘next door’ kinda type, with a quirky sorta charm. They had no idea why they were in the city to begin with. Pietro knew these details, only because he gathered the what’s what on just about every person in town. It took him all of two seconds to do so. Zip around. Observe. Make mental notes. Report back to Agnes. Spill the deets.

Anyway, about you…

Call it a crush, loneliness, or even instinctive lust; whatever the case, Pietro thought you were cute as could be. You didn’t remember how you got to Westview, or where you even came from. One day, you woke up in town, and found yourself wearing unfamiliar clothes. Threads evocative of decades long past. But hey, it happens to the best of us. Pietro was well-acquainted with feelings of confusion and alienation. That mingled sense of being both lost, and born anew.

For crying out loud, he was the very materialization of sapient awareness itself. Agnes forbade him from that knowledge as well. But again, Pietro credited his oopsies and ding-dongs to her shoddy miracle work.

Whenever you questioned the reality around you, the world only stifled you into silence. The everyday citizens of Westview seemed so content with life as it was. Acting as if you had nothing to worry about. Wanda’s sitcom setup was nothing beyond sunshine, rainbows, and television tropes. But Pietro could see the unspoken terror hidden deep in their eyes. The truth Wanda kept hush hush.

Just thinking about it was enough to give Pietro the heebie jeebies. And if his intuition was anything to go by - it never proved him wrong yet - you had a bad feeling about Westview too. Way to go! You caught on even quicker than he did. Which was kinda nuts, if he thought about it. Wasn’t he supposed to be the fastest at everything? ‘Cuz speed was his middle name or something. Or…well, it wasn’t. But it could be. Who’s to stop him from seizing his own destiny at this point?

Pietro Speed Maximoff.

Eh, maybe not.

In Westview, you had no friends or family. And much like Pietro, on Halloween night; you found yourself at the bar. He caught your curious gaze from down the counter. You were dolled up in a scanty, witch's dress, leaving Pietro to wonder why witches were such a recurring theme in his life. Looking too much like a manchild goober, he spun around a few more times in his seat. His sneakers kicked against the stool’s railing. No matter what, he couldn’t sit still. He thought he might be embarrassing himself. But his antics appeared to make you smile even brighter.

Tilting your head, you shot him a look of familiarity.

You weren’t familiar with him, though. But there was a chance you saw him appearing and disappearing around town. During his impromptu stake outs, more than likely.

Bringing your drink to the seam of your lips, you stifled a playful giggle. It was obvious you were gawking at his costume. Arching a brow, Pietro grinned into the rim of his beer bottle. To be fair, he looked supremely ridiculous. The blue tights under his cut-off jean shorts rode up in the crotch a little too much. He dipped his head, staring at the frayed edges of his shorts. Yeah. It was clear he did the job cutting them himself. A hasty one too. Since he was too eager to pull pranks with his nephews.

Damn. Pietro missed those kids like hell already.

The dirty blond hair/ear-things atop his head bounced every time he knocked his neck back. As Pietro downed yet another beer, he lost track of how many he drank. A dribble of it plummeted into silver. Creating a sheen against the lightning bolt duct taped diagonally down his shirt. Pietro sighed and pursed his lips. 

His outfit was an all blue ensemble. Garnished with a spritz of silver here or there. Quicksilver. His hero name, apparently. Pietro knew he’d never live up to it.

A bit of friendly conversation later, and the air between the two of you shifted. Your playful look morphed into something a little wanton, the more Pietro acted in silly ways. Holy shit. Seriously? He hoped he wasn't misreading your signals. Because really, your attraction was too good to be true. If you honestly wanted him, where should he proceed from here? How much freedom had Agnes even allowed him? And furthermore - if Wanda’s happy, dream town ran on a curated schedule; what if credits rolled just as the two of you finally got handsy?

Maybe sitcom rules didn’t apply to conscious manifestations of witch hocus pocus? Wishful thinking on his part.

Outside the bar - in an alleyway too uncannily clean, like a set straight out of Hollywood - Pietro beckoned you in with kisses. Technically, he played the role of Agnes’s deadbeat husband. And if that were the case, did kissing you count as cheating? Shit…was Pietro committing adultery right now?? In the midst of macking on your sweet lips, he pressed a palm to the wall next to your head. Pietro pretended to do so for balance, as he devoured you with his mouth and tongue. 

But unbeknownst to you, he cracked an eye open. Just to double check for a wedding band.

Nothing there to prove he ever got hitched. Go figure.

You giggled coyly into his lips, letting a soft moan ease through your teeth. Bringing your hands up to the hair/ear-things on his head, you toyed with them. Your pretty voice teased him, as you played with his hair in gentle strokes of your thumbs.

“Ooooh…such a good boy, huh? Fast too.” You cooed, the same way one might praise a puppy.

Oh. Fuck yeah. To hell with sitcom tropes and bogus wives. Agnes scared the ever-loving shit out of Pietro anyway. He had no semblance of a domestic connection to her. Not that she gave much of a damn herself. With how often she threw insults his way. Agnes always used Ralph as her little punching bag, before hijacking his body for her own gain.

No wonder your simple praises got his proverbial tail wagging.

A chuckle hummed in the back of his throat, as Pietro purred into your lips, “Speed’s kinda my middle name, y’know?”

You snorted one of the dorkiest laughs he’d heard since cognisant birth. And with a sudden spark of primal urgency; Pietro felt something else spring into transcendence down below. 

Sifting through Ralph’s sidelined psyche, Pietro came to realize how much of a recluse he was. The guy never seemed to get out much. In fact, Agnes might’ve even been his first partner. If one could classify her as such. So, really, Pietro was doing him a major favor. If Ralph knew he planned on using their body for some frisky fun - on an otherwise lonely Hallow’s eve - surely, he’d give his brain roomie some thanks.

Pietro’s hands were vascular like a wired-up machine, clad in arm-warmer paws. Grabbing hard onto your curvy hips with them, he pulled you in closer. He sought the friction of your crotch against his. And after some seriously sloppy making out, Pietro dropped you an invite to his place.

Or…Agnes’s place.

Uh…or…was it technically Ralph’s? Shit, this sitcom roleplay sure gave way to some mental gymnastics.

You didn’t expect Pietro to zip you off at superspeed. Moving abruptly fast, he brought you straight to his disaster of a man cave. Laying you back on the futon, he gave you little time to adjust over the blankets. The wrinkled fabrics reeked of pot, in desperate need of a wash. You got as comfy as you could on the skunky sheets. Blinking your needy gaze up at him, you tugged his white belt, pulling the band undone. Pietro grinned lazily, colliding his swollen lips into yours. His primal instincts left him wreckless with want. 

Burying his tongue in the cavern of your mouth, he brought with him the flavor of cheap booze. As you tasted him, you moaned, shucking his dumb jorts down his hips. A sizable swelling twitched in his tights, squirming under muted blue. Your eyes bulged in their sockets, cartoonishly wide. The way you whirled your tongue across your lip gave off a vibe of animalistic hunger. As though you were eager for an all dick dinner. With Pietro as the appetizer.

And the main course. And the dessert. He hoped you'd rate him five stars.

Restaurant metaphors aside; this was the very first test of his capabilities as a lover, after all. If he couldn’t live up to his superhero name, maybe he could make a name for himself in other ways.

Pietro Speed Maximoff. Quicksilver. Cunning Linguist.

But first…he really should satiate your hunger.

One, generous tug downward, and Pietro’s - or Ralph’s - slightly above average length sprang out. Bouncing in your face in mesmerizing oscillation, his cock appeared pulsating and roused. Thick veins weaved like threads through his shaft, akin to his vascular hands. His balls bulged in his tights, his jorts hanging halfway down his thighs. Pietro took his blistering cock in hand. Aching for the kind of stimulation Ralph never got, his desire painted him so flush and ruby red. 

Since you looked so delighted at the sight before you; Pietro gave his cock a few strokes. He played with himself for your viewing pleasure. And as his firm grip tugged his shaft, the world pulled suddenly back. It was as though Pietro viewed life through a third person perspective. Metaphorical cameras fixed their lenses on the two of you, in an all too human position of closeness. 

The weight of a cock in Pietro’s hand felt both familiar, yet weirdly foreign. Combine that with the sight of another living, breathing body below him; and his nerves buzzed uncomfortably. Frenzied in such a way that matched the quick pulsing of his heart. Focusing instead on your fluttering eyes, Pietro weaned himself out of dissociation. Your hands braced his hips, thumbs circling the fabric of his tights. The gentle gesture brought chills throughout his body. Inching forward, you teased his bobbing cock with a flick of your tongue.

Wet heat grounded him in reality. Upon racing to the forefront of his own mind; Pietro’s breath hitched with a husky groan. He held your head, massaging his fingers in your soft hair. Cute mewls spilled from your lips as you flitted your eyes shut. Swirling your tongue over his cock’s puffy head, you lapped any tearful pearls of precum. His thickness sank between your plush lips, and Pietro’s own lips parted for breath.

Of all things to happen on Halloween night, getting his dick sucked wasn’t on the docket.

Not that Pietro had any reason to complain. This? Wicked awesome. Ralph was really missing out.

You drew lazily back just to lap his balls over his tights, staining fabric with slick saliva. Rolling the tip of your tongue up the underside of his dick, you giggled in that dorkish way again. Pietro’s teeth pulled his lip as he tilted his head back. His dick twitched, throbbing while the heat of your mouth embraced him fully. He moaned, smiling wide enough to show off his dimples. You pumped his cock at the base, teasing his veins with your tongue.

Pietro’s brows turned inward. You suckled his head like you longed to guzzle anything he could give. He sank his fingers deeper through your hair, holding on tightly as he rutted his hips. With each slam of his weeping tip into your throat; he hoarsely grunted. You really did try your best, just for him. Even as tears spilled down your cheeks and your lips began to swell. Plush and puffy, circling his slick length. Pietro kicked up the speed at which he rutted.

Fighting his instincts, he was cautious enough not to choke you. Or, he wanted to be cautious. He braced his hands on both sides of your tear stained face, his arm warmer paws soft against your cheeks. Sinking his dick even deeper between your lips, he accidentally went balls deep. The wet fabric of his tights smothered your chin. You sputtered on his cock, which made your throat wring him so tight. As your tongue curled, sliding under the thrum of his veins; Pietro cursed. Playful chuckles and shameful apologies fell from his lips.

Bitter heat coated your tongue in sweltering jets, thick and explosive down your throat. Pietro’s groin twisted in a blossoming surge of pleasure. And as he ruptured your esophagus with his sticky load, he found himself that much more grounded. As if such a bombastic nut somehow tethered him to reality - securing Pietro from any further derealization. 

Righteous. His first big O since Agnes blessed him with the gift of consciousness. Significantly more electrifying than any sad, jerk sesh Ralph had in the past. And since you so humbly took him like a champ - giving Pietro a most euphoric experience; he saw it fit to return the favor ASAP.

Neither Pietro - nor Ralph, it seemed - had any experience toying around with partners. But he did have a vague knowledge of how to do so. Thanks to the backlog of not-so-safe-for-work memories deep in his subconscious. Raunchy porn, mostly. Magazines. Tapes. Jesus, Ralph…why’s there so much dirty stuff in there, huh? Lots and lots of it. Pietro would have to do his own research later.

He gave you no time to prep for his oncoming nose dive. Perched on your knees, coughing and clearing your throat - you found yourself abruptly resting on your elbows. Your upper back pressed into the futon. Pietro lifted your hips, using his strength to hike your thighs over his broad shoulders. As you parted your swollen lips to protest, blinking your reddened eyes; Pietro pulled your panties to the side. He kept the soaked lace pinned under a thick thumb. Burying his lips in your cunt, he lapped up your honeyed heat.

A sudden addiction, triggered by something carnal, overtook him instantly. Pietro became hooked on your fragrant flavor, swirling your cute bud in high-speed circles. He worked your stiff clit like a microscopic joystick, flicking wet heat in a spastic whirlwind. Alternating between drawing patterns, and sucking your precious pearl hard. Pietro so easily made you squeal - even without any prior experience - until you scratched your fingernails deep into Ralph’s sheets. Kissing your cunt, he let his thirst take over, and dove deeper.

The tune of his name melting through your moans made him wish the night would last forever. A small fraction of him hoped Ralph would never take over again. If consciousness offered rewards this scrumptious, Pietro wanted to stay sentient into eternity. Not to be selfish or whatever, but he almost considered playing minion for Agnes again - if only to secure the lifespan of his psyche.

Your supple, pussy lips parted as he wormed his tongue through your slick walls. Smooth, bumpy heat squeezed the fuzzy ridges of his tongue. In milliseconds, your fluttery love gushed over his taste buds and leaked down his chin. Tears teased the edges of your eyes. You cried whines of sugary bliss. Pietro’s thumb kept your panties pinned, his other hand locked around your thigh.

He smirked into your pussy, deep chuckles burning hot on your mound. And since the position wasn’t exactly the most comfortable; he allowed you some reprieve. Pushing you past your breaking point at light speed, Pietro bashed the sopping slickness of his tongue into your clit. You trembled, shuddering through powerful waves of orgasmic intensity. White-hot flashes of light flooded your vision. Under Pietro’s zippy tongue, your sweet pussy quivered.

Totes mcgoats. If he learned anything tonight - aside from the obvious lessons in subtlety; Pietro now understood why the everyday man lost his doggone marbles over puss.

After your first release, he eased your tired body into the futon. Your back met cozy blankets, engulfed in that skunk weed scent. Before you relaxed, he edged you even longer, drawing out your pleasurable suffering. Pietro sank his fingers deep into your heat, pumping the length of them inside you. His digits curled perfectly, finding every spongy spot that made your core burst with a desire to cum again. His tongue teased your swollen nub until you grabbed at his hair. You mussed the funny looking ear things atop his head, pressing your palm into his forehead to try and push him back.

You begged him to stop. Pleading in disoriented whimpers, your noises went straight to his limp dick. A few more hot, wrathful waves of pleasure later - he finally stopped. Only after your cunt erupted in one more, wet burst. You leaked like a fountain into his lips, soaking his chin, even making a mess of his makeshift costume. More than worth it. Pietro sat up on the futon, admiring his handiwork. He wiped his mouth with one of his arm warmer paws. Your mouth fell agape as your lungs begged for air. More tears sparkled on your flushed cheeks, mirroring the twinkle of your pussy. Pretty as a rose in a rainshower.

With your sluggish arms, you gestured for Pietro to climb over you. And once he did, you pulled him into a lazy kiss without a single care. You paid no mind to the taste of your sweetness on his lips, or the scent of your musk on his chin. Sleepily blinking, you bravely asked if you could stay the night. Too tuckered out to even consider a long walk back home.

Pietro could just as easily speed you over to your place. But even at the risk of his not-wife catching him in bed with someone else - he felt too adverse to loneliness. Besides...your company brought him more delight than he ever expected of anyone. Settling into the futon, he popped on Ralph’s old TV set.

Cheers was on. Pietro snickered to himself, rolling his dark eyes.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, snuggled up against Pietro’s strong form. He’d changed clothes at some point in the night, finally foregoing the tights. Oh, and he lended you one of Ralph’s shirts too. A Grateful Dead t-shirt, of which you were very grateful. Hah, “You don’t like Cheers?”

Pietro shrugged, sipping a beer. A Busch beer. He scowled at the taste, curling his lip.

“Eh. More of a Frasier kinda guy.”

[honeytonedhottie]

hey honey!! first I just wanna say I love your blog so much and it helped me change my life positively. I adore your ability to share useful information with your audience and help others. I wanted to ask your advice on how to handle negative wavering thoughts I have when manifesting like “if x happens, that means x” or “if I see the number x, then that’s means x isn’t going to work”. I’ve been trying really hard to ignore these thoughts, but they are extremely exhausting to hear all the time and I eventually cave and entertain them. what should I do? I have built confidence in myself and in my ability to attract what I desire, but these thoughts are a huge obstacle for me as silly as they may seem. thanks so much honey, keep on shining x

heyy anonie tysm that means a lot 🫶🏽💗 so first and foremost i want you to think of it like ur in a store (bear w me) so ur shopping and the items in the store are your THOUGHTS. u see an item (wavering) but u dont HAVE to put the item in ur cart (entertain it).

thats how wavering/doubts are. u dont have to accept them or even put any importance on them at all. regardless of whatever doubts that u have the law continues to work and what u continue to think creates ur reality. so with that being said when u have a negative thought/doubt just let it pass. it doesnt mean anything!

allow those thoughts to pass, be like "oh that was a random fucking thought lol, but ik thats not true cuz i already have (manifestation) etc" whatever works for you. i also recommend regulating ur nervous system, taking deep breaths and reassuring urself. just let them pass, they dont matter. u already have what u want.

[dapper-lil-arts]

Out of curiosity, have you read other MLP fanfics and if you did, what are your favorites?

Oh yeah, i read a few! Not many stand out in my brain, but let me look through my favorites list on fimfic: Writing friend of mine, Redhoodie21 writes lots of really fun compelling one-shots with wonderful prose, imma just send their whole catalogue lol. But this one is my favorite, Sunset Shimmer as an alienated warrior with mommy issues? Impecable This one stands out as a rare one where its sciset, when they're both still "evil", Sunset being an bitch and scitwi being a mad scientist and hitting it off. This one is probably my favorite comedy fic ever, it's just kind of hilarious and yet plausible that so many mares would activelly pursue AJ. The ending is a bit predictable but everything else is a baaaanger. The same writer also wrote a series where the Equestria girls cast hunts the undead and it has some badass mom principal celestia on it. Iconic as hell. Super inspiring and fun, having the EQG cast get to do insane badass stuff!

A friend of mine wrote tons of cute self indulgent fics, but the standout for me is one where Misty from gen 5 is trained by Sunset Shimmer to be better, stronger, cooler! Its super adorable and allows characters that would never ever meet in canon but have much in common to show their chemistries in some really fun ways!

This one's a classic, just good old fashioned sciset, one of the first fics I ever written, actually! I remember it fondly!

This one's an honest to goodness horror fic with rarijack! a pretty fun and chiling tale that has an incredibly well put together take on ghosts n shit. My only complaints are that they didn't even mack on each other and also we as a society need to acknoledge how funny this is: "Hey fellas is it gay that the phantom manifestation of your loneliness took the form of your best friend and you cuddle it at night for comfort?"

This one has two sequels, and it's another one of those comedy fics but this time, one that acknowledges that sex is hilarious, which it is

This right here feels like it was written specifically for me, catering to my interests, babey. Centuries old Twilight and Sunset as alicorns, ruling together having already advanced Equestria into a golden age and loving each other so, SO goddamn hard. and above all, we get a badass "WHERE'S MY WIFE" tale of an godlike shimmer lmao-- Something I've written myself!

Also I'm currently working on one of my most self indulgent works lmao, rewriting both Sunset's entire backstory and rewriting forgotten friendship all in the same story :)

[cloveroctobers]

PG[3]: Admit it — D.T.

A/N: Oop! Look at me not waiting month(s) to continue this. Idk how long this is going to go on tbh but I can’t lie and say that I’m not having a little fun 💘

WARNINGS: a lengthy one? Longer than the previous I’m sure, some language probably, plot being used for D.C. Reid since he’s missing in the actual show now lol but they’re probably saving him towards the finale or something + continuing the usage of characters from another show, “the night agent,” + a few more OC’s mentioned for the plot! & a bit of a love triangle? Which team are you on? You might want to circle back to this once you finish 😬

<- flip back to page two here.

⏦ﾟ♡︎ ⋆˙⟡ ⚡︎ ⏦ﾟ♡︎ ⋆˙⟡ ⚡︎ ⏦ﾟ♡︎ ⋆˙⟡ ⚡︎ ⏦ﾟ♡︎ ⋆˙⟡ ⚡︎ ⏦ﾟ♡︎ ⋆˙

“So you’re back in the chi?” Manny confirms as Seraphina tries not to burn her tongue on her hot morning beverage.

She’s in the kitchen, phone propped up against a strangely decorated blender that’s on the counter, as she’s chatting with her man-friend on FaceTime.

Flicking her framed lightened hair back from falling into her eyes she nods, placing the mug back onto the counter, “Yup, just got in last night.”

“You know how long you’re gonna be back there?” Manny questions as he appears to be unlocking the door to his office, “I ask this because I don’t want the atmosphere to bring you back to a dark place. Yet I do think it’s good that you’ve got some work flow goin’ since you like to keep busy you know?”

Seraphina offers a small smile at Manny taking knowledge of that. If she didn’t keep busy, then that gave her mind the power to overthink and that was never a good thing. It was rare for her to wear her emotions on her sleeve but when she did, it had the potential to be the biggest crash out and she never felt like there was time to do that. She was always set on mode: keep pushing!

“I…” she inhales, “Can’t really say. It’s still kind of developing and I only know bits and pieces. I just made sure everything was okay in KC before I left: there’s two nurses that’ll be assisting for a little, giving my mom some time to herself outside of the house, and even mom and dad’s friends are starting to come over so I think it’ll be okay for now.”

Manny plops down in his chair and shakes his head, “Hey, what did we talk about? Say it like you believe it, manifest it: Things will be okay even if feels like its just for today.”

Dante’s leaning against the wall in the hallway, arms crossed over the other as he listens in on Seraphina’s conversation. It’s not like he purposely did, he woke up a little late, and she probably didn’t hear him go up the steps since she was in such a deep conversation with: Mr. Walks as if the sun glows out of his ass this morning.

“I can be out there in a couple of days after this district budget meeting we’re having…if you need me?” Manny’s voice is always the right amount of warmth that makes Seraphina’s body tingle, “We are due for some quality time—maybe on a date night vibe.”

A genuine smile creeps onto Seraphina’s face at that, although there is a slight ping in her gut, her interest is still shown, “Is that so?”

“Oh most definitely. I like to wine, dine, show off what’s mine and tell the world you’re so fine my girl.” Manny has no problem flirting, no matter how early it is, just to keep the short haired woman smiling and honestly that’s all he can ask for.

She playfully rolls her eyes, “Did I ever mention that you would be a horrible poet?”

“Don’t doubt me, baby. I got tricks up my sleeve that you haven’t even seen yet.” Manny winks making Seraphina ready to tease him and ask him what poets he knows of besides Shakespeare.

That goes on for a while that she shifts positions, resting her back against the counter and holding the phone up to her face as they go back and forth.

Seraphina laughs, “Oh, That one sounds made up!”

Manny frowns but there’s a smirk on the corner of his lips, “Alright, don’t take my word for it but you and I both know you’re gonna go googling right after this call.”

She sucks her teeth and he laughs because they both know he’s right.

From her peripheral she spots a shadow in the living room to her right, heart rate spiking just a bit, making her forget that there was a possibility that someone else was still in the home that did not belong to her.

And not just anyone.

Dante is dressed for his work day, his usual white shirt and jeans, moving quickly around the living room as he picks up the folded comforter and pillow stacked on top that’s resting on the couch to stuff back into the hallway closet. Seraphina was more than willing to take the couch but part of her knew she shouldn’t have said it because the look she received from Momma Catalina (who also kindly waited up for Seraphina to get here) was as if she assaulted the woman.

“Mija, you must be so exhausted from your trip that you let these delusions say these things.” The woman cooed, doing a swirling motion with her finger by the side of her head, before she cupped Seraphina’s face into her hands then engulfed her into her arms.

Dante was silent as he took her things from her grasp, no questions asked and moved to head upstairs to his room to place her bags. As Seraphina held onto the woman who became quite the mother figure, her eyes couldn’t help but to linger on the buzzed haired man who disappeared from her sight.

“Hey so, I’m gonna let you go since you made it into work safely and all that.”

Manny beams, “Thanks for your concern baby but I wouldn’t mind having this face on my line all day just to be honest.”

It’s Dante’s turn to roll his eyes as he used the wall for balance while he shoved his feet into his sneakers.

“You and I both know you wouldn’t be able to focus if you kept me with you while you’re clocked in.”

Manny scoffs, “You’re not wrong…but it was worth a shot!”

Seraphina sends him a sweet smile despite what escapes her lips, “Ain’t nothing wrong with shooting either.”

“Oh…do I need to put my EarPods in?” Manny lowers his voice, “I didn’t know this was turning into that type of call.”

Seraphina faux gasps, “Manuel Castillo! I can’t believe my ears, are you fraternizing on the job?”

“Maybe.” The bearded man winks just as there’s some knocks on his door and he tells them to hold on, “Looks like duty calls.”

“What will I ever do now that I’m sending you off to war?” Seraphina playfully pouts and then mockingly gags leaving Manny to nod his head in amusement, expecting that faux disgust to follow at the attempts of affection, “Have a good day, babe.”

Manny kisses two fingers at her, “You have a better one, beautiful. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later and not a minute after.”

The calls ends and the usual buzz Seraphina feels is short lived as Dante finally makes his way into the kitchen. She turns to grab the mug, just as Dante goes through the cabinet for a mug of his own, then glanced at the clock on the wall behind them before putting it back, he takes a abrupt seat in a chair at the dining table, ready to get something off his chest.

“Morning.” He starts.

Seraphina swallows as she turns back to meet his spring hues, “Good morning. Momma C made some Chocolate Chip Banana Oatmeal Bars that you can take on the go if you want?”

Dante feels his stomach gargle at the mention of the snack and it’s not the good kind. He clears his throat, trying to push the knot back down, “I’m good thanks. Indulged in a little too much of that last night being first row to the kitchen and all. Just gonna grab something on my way in or take some coffee at the precinct.”

Seraphina dips her head, “Suit yourself but don’t go starving yourself during those lengthy shifts like you sometimes do.”

Dante shifts in the chair, resting his elbow on the table, “…Are we good, Nina?”

He blurts out and he immediately spots the tension in her neck and shoulders.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” She folds one arm over her ribcage and under her opposite elbow.

Dante blinks, “Because of what happened back in Kansas City? There’s been tension since and now that you’re actually here—

“That was two weeks ago.” Seraphina interrupts, “We’re fine. There’s nothing wrong. We don’t need to talk about it.”

Dante goes quiet, quickly taking up her defense, “Why not? Because you’re in a relationship that you’ll never be fully loyal to?”

He struck a nerve, that much he can tell. He wished he would have taken a different approach but once things were already said, they often remain.

“What is there to even talk about? It wasn’t anything groundbreaking or something that hasn’t happened before.” Seraphina snaps back, “It happened and it shouldn’t have so let it go.”

Dante frowns and rubs at his jaw in agitation, “So you think it’s fair to just ignore it?”

Seraphina snickers, “Is anything fair lately? The earth still spins!”

“I just…can’t stop thinking about the what if’s.” He seems a little zoned out before meeting her eyes, “You stopped us from taking things further because you touched my burn mark. It wasn’t Manny on your mind.”

Seraphina tightens her stare at her old friend in the room with her. She made the choice of being vulnerable along with Dante then and allowed herself to sink back into him, who she thought she could be strong enough against to not fall back into that type of pattern. The upsetting thing is Dante was right. If her fingers didn’t brush against the scorched skin that altered the tat on the nape of his neck…it could have went further.

She likes to think that he would have backed off out of respect of her blooming relationship with Manny or even the fact that she was on her lady friend…however those things wouldn’t have mattered. Seraphina didn’t want to point the finger so she wouldn’t. It takes two and she was part of the two that cheated on someone who didn’t deserve it.

Someone who would love her the way she wanted.

“Yeah you would think that wouldn’t you?” Seraphina hisses, turning to put the mug back and grip the counter behind her instead; since her hold was tight enough to break the mug, “It would make you feel so much better that every thing I do would only be for you.”

Dante exhaled but his tone is somewhat gentle at the start, “That’s not what I’m saying. It’s more than okay that we didn’t take it there, I followed your lead with no problem. You’re just mad that Manny wasn’t even a thought when we kissed, not that I give a shit about his feelings—

“Please,” Seraphina snorts, “You don’t think I noticed you lingering in the hallway, listening in on our conversation, trying to see what’s so special about what we have?”

Dante lifts his shoulders, “What do you have?” He quizzes, “I think he’s just background noise.”

“And I think you’re being a asshole.” Seraphina is as cold as the first bite of December in Chicago, while a crooked smile appears on her lips, “You come around when you’re needy, you slept with your now deceased CI that you claimed to be in love with, we shared a kiss, and you’re sitting here trying to tell me about my relationship just like I did with you and Glo—

Seraphina looks away, tightening her hold on the counter even more that the skin tone of her knuckles didn’t look the healthiest, “And you can’t even say you feel guilty about making this harder for me?”

Dante blows out a breath shifting to rest his elbows into his knees, “I…can’t regret something that matters. I’m just full of sin at this point but you’ll always be the one thing I give grace to. I do hate that by us…doing what we did makes things difficult for you, yet you and I both know he’s not who you’re meant to be with.”

Seraphina sticks her tongue into her cheek for a moment finding this all to be so ironic, “It’s just better in your eyes, if I be by myself until I expire then huh? Or am I supposed to sit pretty on the shelf and wait for you to come around? Been there, don’t want to continue doing that. You’re overprotective when it comes to me you know that right? You can’t keep me solely for yourself. Manny and I are good, new but good. I can’t do this with you, we crossed boundaries by jumping back into old habits and it’s not right. It might have felt right that night but that cannot happen again because we can never take it back. Manny is my—

Dante stares at her as she blabbers from underneath his eyelashes making her breathing get caught in her throat, “Go on…you can’t even say it to my face can you?”

He scoffs at her hesitation, ready to push away from the table.

Seraphina’s ink eyes are hot on his face, “Oh please dont go acting all high and mighty. You know what we are.”

“Does he?” Dante examines, with a simple blink of his eyes.

Which in other words means, was Seraphina going to come clean and show that she messed up, breaking Manny’s trust? Are they as solid as Seraphina claimed? Dante was prepared for anything, he didn’t owe Manny a thing and he wasn’t sorry about how his actions may affect Mr. Sunshine in the slightest. It’s wrong to admit but he wouldn’t lie, not with this. Dante had the advantage when it came to Gloria, anything Seraphina learned of Gloria was by someone telling her and that one time Gloria pulled up on Seraphina not long before she died. She learned about Gloria Perez in pieces and Dante learned just as much as he needed to of Manny Castillo.

If wanted to know it all, he could.

There’s a ringing at the door and a couple of knocks that disrupt their tense stare off.

“What’re you looking at me for?” Seraphina scowls and then points, “This isn’t my house, go get the door.”

Dante laughs in annoyance at her rude remarks but he’s aware that he’s got her thinking as he gets to his feet.

“Looks like I won’t be staying here another night.” She mutters her decision but Dante stops in the hallway, ears perked.

“And where exactly do you think you’re gonna go huh?” He says to her with a deep frown, “You’re renting out your old place, you don’t like Seán’s fiancé and the ladies you occasionally hang out with…are mostly Seán’s friends. As long as me and mi ma are here, this will also be your home and you can always stay, no matter what we’re going through.”

Seraphina looks away just as the doorbell rings again and Dante brings his attention elsewhere leaving her to whisper, “I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”

To stay busy, she dumps the rest of the herbal tea contents into the sink, disregarding the teabag, and is prepared to wash the mug out when she hears Dante calling out her name.

“Nina,” he says while she makes her way into the entryway of the home, “There’s someone here for you.”

She moves towards Dante, eyes settling on the appearance of Peter Sutherland who stands with his shoulders squared inwards as if he’s hiding from prying eyes. The back of his auburn hair looks more red against the sun, his deep-set eyes are taking in her features as well in recognition, and there’s some stubble he’s allowing to grow in that fits his diamond shaped jaw. He appears regular, in a simple gray hoodie and jeans opposed to his fancy getup she’s seen him in a couple of pictures on social media.

“Hi Sera,” he starts and notices her pinching one eye closed at the shortened version of her name and immediately corrects himself, “Sorry, Coty. You still look the same.”

Seraphina shrugs her shoulders, “And you look less pasty, Peter Pan. Where’ve you been?”

His dark eyes flick to Dante who is still standing right beside her but doesn’t let the amusement fall from his tone, “That’s classified but…I’ll just say…a good amount of time in Asia. Mind if we have a private chat for a bit?”

Which sparks another red flag for Dante.

“I don’t let people I don’t know into my house.”

Seraphina plucks his shoulder, while Dante’s pushes his lips out, unapologetically shrugging himself, just before his phone suddenly starts to buzz from his pocket.

“Understood,” Peter nods not taking any offense since he already had intel on Dante, “I won’t take up too much of your time, I promise Coty. In fact we can just chat in the front yard where Dante can keep a good eye on us.”

Seraphina and Dante share a silent conversation with their eyes that Peter almost feels like he needs to clear his throat to break it up. However Dante gives a curt nod towards Peter, almost with a warning before he steps back placing his phone to his ear, “Torres,” he greets, eyes locked on the two until Seraphina closes the door in his face.

“Your boyfriend’s more serious than you.” Peter joshed, keeping his back to the street, hands in his pockets.

Seraphina grits with a deep sigh, “Not my boyfriend.”

“I could have sworn Reid—

“You’ll learn that you need to take Deputy Chief Reid’s words as if it’s cough syrup, my dear.” Seraphina voice oozes sarcasm.

Peter stares off to the side in confusion for a bit and then shrugs, “Noted! I would have reached out sooner but I didn’t want to risk you being compromised if someone has tabs on you already. I’ll get you a burner this evening.”

“If that’s really necessary, I can get my own burner.” Seraphina stated.

Peter knew this stubbornness would come out at some point so he eases his breathing, “Sera—shit I have to remember that’s something triggering for you but I’ll get it right during however long we’re together this time.”

She puffs out a breath, “Yeah, Sera See’s France isn’t exactly a cool nickname.”

Long story short, after the whole panic attack at the academy, some better ranked attendees thought it would be cool to address her as such. It was the most childish bullying thing to experience and it’s not like her pants split or anything as she crouched down letting the panic take over. The top of her underwear somehow was tucked over her shirt instead of under and became noticeable as she got into a new position to stop the panic and they took that opportunity to make things worse. That group also consisted of two women, so yeah she had her unfortunate battles of not finding some true girlfriends in life.

“Right.” Peter speaks his eyes holding care instead of pity, “People are assholes.”

“Absolutely.”

Peter decides to change course for what he came here to do, “Did you have a chance to look at the file?”

“I did.” Seraphina let’s out a long breath, “I still don’t understand how Reid thinks I would have a personal connection to something this big.”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Someone who happens to be: Amaia Cartagena—that you used to hang with back in the day—probably around when you were sixteen, their little half sister Camila Cartagena is actually the leader of TSF and the one who ordered the smuggling of the jewels and weapons into Chicago. We just have to find out where in this huge ass city.”

Seraphina was actually shocked to hear this, “Wow. Camila was younger than us by a good four to five years and always so fearful whenever Amaia brought her around…you mean to tell me this is what she’s been up to? How does this involve you though?”

“I don’t trust many and that includes Reid but what little I’ve known of you back in quantico, you hardly beat around the bush so I’m just going to say it, I’m a night agent.”

“A what?”

“Exactly.” He smiles.

⏦ﾟ♡︎ ⋆˙⟡ ⚡︎

Seraphina made her way back in the Torres household, pacing a little in the entryway at this new found information that was not included in the file but was thankful that Peter shared what he knew. It made sense that Reid would leave this out, that one of the reasons he was dragging Seraphina into this mess is because she used to hang out with The Cartagenas…back when she was up to no good and playing the swiping game.

Deputy Chief Reid was most likely using her, rather than what bullshit he tried to persuade her with back in Kansas City. It didn’t take a rocket scientist or even a chemist to figure that out, everything that Peter just told her verified what she was already thinking.

However it was still a stretch that Reid wanted to throw her into this case but she agreed to meet up with Peter some time this afternoon and hopefully he had more info, so she wasn’t completely thrown to the wolves.

For now?

This was a waiting game.

“Hey, everything good?” Dante peeks out from the kitchen, phone in his hand, after he watched this Peter guy disappear down the street from the window.

Seraphina nods but her response can’t help but to be sarcastic, “Never better.”

“You can talk to me, you know? Whatever it is, whatever that was, i can help.”

Of course he was speculating something! Dante was already aware that Seraphina dreaded Chicago and she wouldn’t leave Kansas City behind without good reason. Especially right now. Dante talked it through with his ma about her staying for however long she needed to and the next thing he knows, there’s this random guy showing up to his house? The puzzles were there and she wasn’t hiding it.

Something was going on.

“I think we did enough talking this morning,” Seraphina argues and then takes a breath at the demoralized look in Dante’s eyes, “Sorry. Stop worrying and get to work, you don’t need to be any later on account of me.”

Dante sighs and steps into the entryway, hands reaching out to the mini bookcase against the wall to grab his keys that sat on top, “…I hope you’ll consider staying and not taking that disagreement as a means to shut me out but if you need space…take it.”

He leans forward, almost as if he’s ready to kiss both of her cheeks in farewell before embracing her but he picks up on her breathing hitching and face turning. Which stung. So he just opted for squeezing above her elbow, before trailing his fingers down to hold her hand. He still finds himself waiting some, for some sort of reaction where her guard isn’t completely up, until her other hand goes to playfully smack his shoulder, “Go before I end up with a phone call from Voight or worse, Trudy.”

Dante lets out a breathy laugh and it matches his eyes, which is a silent agreement that things will be alright between them for now. “Be good.” He tells her with a grin.

“You first.” She jokes, as she watches him leave for the day.

⏦ﾟ♡︎ ⋆˙⟡ ⚡︎

⏦ﾟ♡︎ ⋆˙⟡ ⚡︎

⏦ﾟ♡︎ ⋆˙⟡ ⚡︎

If anyone thought (Dante) Seraphina was going to choose hanging out at the Torres household on her own for the day then they were greatly mistaken. The home was quiet enough during the day that it made her anxious, it had been maybe an hour or a hour and a half since Dante left and scrolling the internet got boring after a while. The woman thought about watching some tv but realized she couldn’t get any of the streaming services on the screen…all Momma C cared for was the news channel, her telenovelas, and the baking channel. Dante wasn’t much of a tv person in the first place anyway, since most of his time was spent out dealing with crime on a daily, he barely had any interest to get into anything before the tv always ended up watching him, so this should have been expected.

Seraphina made the decision to get ready, throwing on all black attire, sculpting a good portion of her hair back into a half up-do and debated about putting any makeup on besides her go to lip combo. Deciding against anything else but moisturizer and sunscreen, she chose to roam the streets herself, taking in the views of the city she was supposed to love.

Seraphina wasn’t sure how long she’s been walking before she ended up at a local black-owned cafe, tucking herself into the furtherest corner of the brick building on a Dijon yellow velvet couch but she had good scenery of a park across the street. She gets lost at the group of women with strollers or carrying their children, chatting away with each other and it makes her hopeful that her mother is taking care of herself today.

Her phone buzzes from a unknown number which reads: it’s🧚 meet @ —

With a location dropped, Seraphina knows it’s Peter due to the emoji—she plans to make fun of him for that later—and does quick search of the location to see that it’s a parking garage. She’s always ready to work but takes her time making her exit. She finds herself browsing on the internet again and once she finds what she’s looking for, there’s a smile that appears on her lips before she takes the rest of her iced chai to go.

⏦ﾟ♡︎ ⋆˙⟡ ⚡︎

“I forgot to say earlier…I’m sorry about Cisco.” Seraphina says as she follows Peter down a set of steps.

He stops at the door, peering down at the handle before saying, “Appreciate it, Coty. I don’t plan to lose anyone else though.”

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about…” she points to herself as she follows him by the row of cars.

Peter’s eyes are scanning the area, a quick pep in his step, “When you hear what I’m about to tell you, you should be too.”

“That’s comforting.”

“Hey, I told you this job isn’t a walk in the park and I’m sure yours isn’t either.” Peter informs and lifts his chin towards a vehicle, “This is me.”

Seraphina stops in her tracks, head tilted to the side followed by a frown, then she takes a long look at Peter’s ride of choice, “I have to be honest…I’m a little disappointed.”

Peter pauses on the driver’s side and scoffs, “I didn’t have time to take a trip to the dealership, alright?”

“Well maybe you should have,” Seraphina laughs, “Madam President has you running the streets like this?”

The president did not know Peter was riding around the Midwest in a 1995 Ford Escort that was the color of Barney and friends.

Peter huffs, “I’ll let Weaver know that you’re less than impressed the next time she decides to pop up on me.”

She hums.

“Right uh, she’s who I report to.” Peter describes, “My first person of contact. I’m sure her and Reid are acquainted otherwise I probably wouldn’t be here.” The man holds eye contact with his temporary academy mate to show he’s being truthful, “Now would you please get in the car so I can tell you what I know? We can’t stay here underneath all these cameras.”

Seraphina didn’t have any reason to not trust Peter. Although it’s been awhile since they’ve been last face to face, he’s been candid about his position in all of this and seemed more willing to guide her than The Deputy Chief.

They’re leaving the parking garage, car putting along while they headed out to the freeway after Peter dropped more paperwork into Seraphina’s lap. She’s going through so many files that she’s sure she would have a paper cut by the end of the night.

“Damn, this girl’s been all over…but why Sierra Leone?” Seraphina wonders as she stares at a black and white picture of Camila.

She also appears just as Seraphina remembers her but there’s a darkness in her eyes compared to the sadness Seraphina was used to seeing.

Peter shrugs, “She fell in love with someone over there that so happens to be Amaia’s baby’s father, Bayo. Bayo started to make trips back to his homeland as soon as he learned that Amaia was pregnant, which makes me believe he started the trading then. It was reported that Amaia wanted no parts of what Bayo had going on and his persuasion to get her to move her and to raise their child there. So Camila went in her place.”

Seraphina shakes her head in disapproval, already filling in the rest of how their relationship began, “That’s trifling. I’m guessing it was a dead end with questioning Amaia?”

“Weaver did the honors of the interrogating but also sent me the account Camila set up for her nephew.” Peter notified while peeking over at Seraphina, “There’s over eight-hundred-thousand dollars for him.”

Seraphina comments, “Taking rich auntie to another level.”

“You can say that again,” Peter laughs some, “Amaia’s used maybe a couple hundred dollars from the account over the last few months for the kid but never on herself. She’s working two jobs and doing okay, not great but okay.”

“You do what you gotta do,” Seraphina remarks remembering Amaia’s strong-will, “Camila sure does. I couldn’t imagine doing that to a sibling.”

Peter tries to joke, “Maybe that’s why we’re only children.”

Seraphina sends him a look, which makes him clear his throat.

“And let me guess? She hasn’t spoken to her?”

“Not since Amaia was ready to kick Camila’s ass in the hospital right after she gave birth. Security got involved and there’s footage of that as well but…Camila always sends small messages, in code to announce when there’s been a new deposit for the kid.” Peter continues to feed the woman info that sat on the passenger side.

Seraphina goes quiet as she continues to flip through more paper, “Wait a minute…Camila and this Bayo guy are married or engaged? She’s got a hefty rock on her finger.”

“I was waiting for you to find that.”

She pauses, “This invoice from this pawn shop was almost a month ago…Camila used to work there under the table…until we stole from there.”

Peter glances at Seraphina before switching lanes, “That the one where you all got caught?”

“Yeah, only Camila and I got off. I told her to run but she must have waited around to see how it all went down. I only got off because of my dad’s status. Why would she sell to this place? She said Amaia was on her head more than ever after that happened, Amaia got house arrest and beatings from their father.” Seraphina frowned, her brain scrambling trying to piece this together, “…We’re going to this pawn shop aren’t we?”

Peter gets off the exit, “Definitely.”

ﾟ♡︎ ⋆˙⟡ ⚡︎

Thankfully Peter still had a nice shiny badge to flash and Seraphina could be just as intimidating if she wanted to. The pawn shop still had the same name and felt the same, reeking of motor oil and cigars and the floors looked as if they could use a long mopping job. It was cluttered and narrow, meant to make it a in and out type of situation but business had to be done.

It wasn’t the same man as when she was a teenager but it was possible that the older man could be related. If she had to guess he had to be decade older than her and Peter, maybe in his forties and had a thick Slavic accent.

He was less than thrilled to be threatened over this situation or having Seraphina take a seat right on the glass, playing with a throwing knife.

“Are you aware that you purchased a blood diamond from someone who is planning to cause mass destruction at any given moment?” Peter pressed the man who was in denial.

He’s sarcastic, “I dunno if you’re from here or not but it’s Chicago, not Vermont.”

Seraphina fights back a snicker, since she’s supposed to be on Peter’s side in this whole good cop bad cop thing, “Hey, you’re a good lookin’ guy that’s probably just trying to take care of his family right?”

Peter gives her the side eye.

“That’s right,” the man grins.

“Just imagine how bad it will look when it comes out that you assisted in this upcoming crime.” Seraphina keeps her tone soft, “Give us what we’re looking for, plus the diamond or we’ll come back with some people that won’t ask and will take it upon themselves to turn this place upside down until they get it. I’m sure you don’t want that do you? That has to be bad for business.”

Peter can’t help the smile that quirks at the corner of his lips at the man who suddenly breaks character.

“She forced my hand, that one!” He splutters turning red as he’s frantic, “Took my money and made me make a fake invoice so it didn’t look suspicious, I knew it would only be a matter of time before someone caught on. I’ll get you the jewel but I don’t know much else about what she’s planning! The guy she came in here with, was a militant and he was armed. Messed with the inside footage but clearly not the outside if it brought you two here.” He moves to head to the back.

Peter quickly waves for Seraphina to get down, while he touches his waistband, showing that he’s armed which gets Seraphina to stay back as Peter stands in the doorway, watching as the man continues talking, shoving boxes out of the way to get to a vault that’s low on the ground.

“I thought they would be back for it by now but it doesn’t mean they won’t be! The guy just said something about getting to city hall. That’s all I know.”

Peter keeps his chin lifted, making sure the man wasn’t up to any funny business as he pulled out a pouch and locked the vault back. He’s on his feet, groaning as he does so before standing before Peter, “Here, take it and go, officer. I need to up my protection now and hope you all know what you’re getting yourselves into.”

Peter holds the pouch up for Seraphina to see, shaking it and taking a peek inside. He lets out a low whistle just as in the distance there’s someone snapping pictures. He tosses it to Seraphina who gets a look at it as well before tucking it into her crossbody bag, turning towards the door as they announce their exit.

A picture of her is taken as well.

The two make their way back to Peter’s car and sit in silence for a bit.

“I almost forgot what it felt like to have a sidekick with me,” Peter laughs with his head resting against the headrest.

Seraphina shrugs, “I wouldn’t get used to it. You and I always loved handling things on our own.”

He sighs, “That’s true but we don’t have a choice in this one.”

“Yeah, maybe we’ll be the dream team.” Seraphina gives a grin, using her fingertips to pull up the corner’s of her mouth mockingly.

Peter snorts, “Should we give all of our thanks to Weaver and D.C. Reid?”

“Even if it was that problematic holiday thanksgiving and I was lit on fire, they wouldn’t make the list. Although I don’t know Weaver, I can sense you’re not a fan.” She lets her fingers drop.

Peter still laughs, “Brutal but I agree.”

Seraphina lets out an exhale, “So…city hall? What’s the connection there? The pawn shop makes some sense but I’m at a loss on city hall.”

“Don’t know but I’m sure it’ll come to light sooner than we expect.” Peter yawns, “For now we do our own research and regroup later?”

“But we’re just getting started?”

She was surprised to see Peter calling it quits for the day.

“Time got the best of me and I have something else that I need to handle,” Peter braces himself as he continues, “…So the deputy chief requested I get you to the hotel you’ll be staying at and I got the burner phone.”

“Of course!”

“Hey, I didn’t make the demands.”

“You did with the burner phone.” Seraphina points out.

Peter holds out the phone to the woman, “Don’t make it a big deal.”

“The next thing I know you’re gonna get me to train on how to use guns again.” Seraphina flips the phone open with sass.

Peter goes quiet at that, making Seraphina widened her eyes while she slowly lifts her head to peek at him, “Oh hell no, Sutherland!”

“Again, it was a suggestion. I already expressed to Weaver—

“Well now she’s on my shit list too! She doesn’t know me, she can’t force you to teach me anything!”

“I mean…it is important considering what we’re dealing with and there will be times when we’re not together 24/7.”

Seraphina has a bitter taste in her mouth, “I’m surprised Deputy Chief isn’t holding me hostage at this point.”

“Oh he’s thought about it,” Peter muttered making Seraphina side eye him now, “Since I had more time around you than he has I suggested that your boy—not your boyfriend,” he corrects, “should know about this and step in but to my surprise Reid wants to keep this on the down low for now. It makes the most sense to have an officer that you’re comfortable with have your back when I can’t be around.”

Seraphina can feel the stress appearing in between her brows, “I’m…irritated.”

“I can see that.” Peter answers, “Hopefully you won’t be dragged into this for much longer. Now is where you lay low and just be a chemist.”

“You mean a unemployed chemist?”

Peter starts the engine, “Think of it as possible paid training again and when we solve the case…”

“What? Things go back to normal?”

“What’s that?” Peter feels a smile twitching onto his lips, attempting to ease the tension, “…so…hotel?”

“I don’t have any of my things?”

“I’m sure weaver took care of that.”

Seraphina squeezed at the back of her neck and rolls her head around, “This spy shit is suddenly making me nauseous.”

“Yeah…you’ll get used to it.”

Seraphina looks out into the city for not even a minute before her regular phone goes off with a reminder: *self-care in 30 mins!*

“Actually…before you drop me off at the hotel…can you take me somewhere else first?” Seraphina puts on her best puppy-dog glance, although she’s very aware that she could jump out of the car if Peter denied her this.

ﾟ♡︎ ⋆˙⟡ ⚡︎

Being at complete ease all the time must be nice but at least for tonight, it was pretty close. It’s late in the evening by the time she’s settled into the hotel, she’s feeling nice after her Swedish massage and facial, thankful for the ladies that took great care of her there. She was fine splurging if it meant making herself feel alright through the constant smoke. After all she was taking her therapist’s advice in making sure that she tended to herself on this break.

Dr. Tamsin also didn’t need to know it all but a summarized version of Seraphina choosing to take a trip back to Chicago was good enough. Sure she was worried about leaving her parents behind while she was being thrown back into a lifestyle she stepped away from but through the advice of Dr. Tamsin, she still needed to find time for herself.

Seraphina also had the pleasure of meeting Weaver for the first time, who picked her up from her appointment—in a much better ride than Peter’s—a shiny Escalade (and took her things from the Torres household, having them placed in her hotel room. When asked how Weaver managed to get into the home while both occupants were at work, the smile and stare told Seraphina all that she needed to know of the agent.), making sure she got back to the hotel safely. Weaver did ask for the diamond but it felt right to lie and say that Peter had it. The two planned to go (break in) to a lab to test the diamond tomorrow and see if it contained the same materials that were being used for bullets.

Oh yeah that was another thing in the file, somehow TSF was using bullets that didn’t just contribute to many wars in Sierra Leone but the bullets also contained toxic elements that caused: rashes, seizures, and hemorrhaging in the brain no matter where the bullet was aimed first. Seraphina’s worked with ballistics plenty of times before as a extra set of eyes but she had a feeling that the bullets was something Bayo had his hands in since she read his background, he was no dummy either.

That was tomorrow’s agenda and she let that flow to the back of her mind as she belted out her heart to Danity Kane’s, “Damage,” with the remote as a microphone, sporting her night clothes, and bonnet on.

Let’s just say, the woman was having a whole concert in her room and having a blast.

Nothing was going to ruin this night.

Eventually she has to pause the music, head snapping up after doing a death drop on the bed at the sound of knocking on the door. A spike of panic hits her chest, wondering who that can be since no one else knew she was here.

Seraphina’s quick to grab her phone, ready to send her location to Kevin but hears a familiar voice.

“Open up Phina-Mena, don’t stop the party now that I’m here!” He says from behind the door.

Her eyes go wide as she scrambles to get off the bed, tripping over her feet but manages to stand upright and breathe before making her way over to the door. Standing on her tippy toes a little, she peers through the peephole to see that it was in fact her boyfriend, Manny grinning up at her in the view of a fish eye.

Unlocking the door, she pulls it open just to be met with a boquet of flowers and a wide smile, “Hey, baby.”

Her arms go around his shoulders, crushing him to her that he almost stumbles himself. Manny laughs, keeping the flowers out of the way just before Seraphina is squeezing the life out of him. “I’m liking this warm welcome!”

She cups his jaw, staring into his eyes, “Hi, I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He softly caressed her lower back, before reaching up to pull the band of the bonnet back which was now half-way blocking her view.

They both mirror a smile before Seraphina leans forward with a peck, then another, before Manny grips her back again to hold her longer to his body and his mouth. The kisses are normally on the rougher side thanks to Manny’s eager speed and facial hair but his touch is just the right amount of soft.

Soon they’re tucked into the hotel room, Seraphina is sitting crossed legged on the bed, beaming at Manny who is stretched out on one side of the bed, hand resting on her thigh, also smiling as he tearing into his breakfast burrito. Normally he was the kind of guy that wanted to go out on these spontaneous dates but Seraphina was always to herself.

Having a date inside wasn’t the worse idea as they ordered breakfast for dinner, danced around together after Manny washed his flight off (he told a little lie himself, the budget meeting already happened) and had a sheet mask on, once he stubbed his toe and tried to walk it off, Seraphina called their concert off just in time for the food to get here. Together they got comfortable, just chatting in close proximity before they decided on what to watch together before they fell asleep.

“Are we feeling’ more love is blind or The Traitors?” Manny asks after Seraphina comes back from the bathroom.

Was that a trick question universe?

Seraphina tucks herself right against Manny’s chest, his body hair pricked her new glass skin cheek but she allowed it as he kissed her forehead, “Uh, let’s do love is blind.”

“Sweet! Last season was tragic though.” Manny sighs as he squeezes her back before caressing and using his other hand to search the streaming platform with the remote.

Seraphina listens to his heartbeat thudding against her eardrum, it isn’t what soothes her tonight but she can thank that masseuse for providing with her sweet dreams for once.

ﾟ♡︎ ⋆˙⟡ ⚡︎

ﾟ♡︎ ⋆˙⟡ ⚡︎

ﾟ♡︎ ⋆˙⟡ ⚡︎

Morning arrives much quicker than expected and it’s something her body is aware of before her eyes open. Seraphina’s tossing and turning in the bed, her back to the figure she ends up kicking.

“Hey, I see you’re awake.” Manny teases turning to tuck his face in Seraphina’s neck, but she nudges him off, “Whoa, what’s up? Is this going to be one of those wrong side of the bed type of mornings?”

She flops on the bed, peering her eyes to stare up at the dark ceiling. The hotel room feels chilly opposed to the warmth beside her and it is almost completely dark besides the bedside lamp on Manny’s side. He’s still in his night clothes from last night but he smells fresh like his signature scent of salt and amberwood, his scent should ease her like it normally does but right now it feels like it’s suffocating her.

“I cheated on you.”

Manny’s head tilts to the side, ear pressing into his shoulder blade and lets out a laugh, “Yeah okay, good one Mena.”

It’s her turn for her head to roll towards his so their eyes meets. She had to be honest, it all came rushing back and she couldn’t fake it anymore, “I’m serious, Manny. I kissed someone else.”

“Like…your dad?” He soberly inquires.

Seraphina shakes her head, “It was with Dante in Kansas City.”

“He was there? Again?” Manny asks as he sits up on the bed now, “Why?”

“He asked if he could come by, he was dealing with something after going undercover—

“All the way from Chicago? He drove to you?” Manny’s crossing his arms as he sits against the headboard, trying to keep his breathing steady instead of coming out in puffs.

Seraphina nods, “Yes. We’re always each other’s support systems…but I didn’t think it would have led to that. We come so far to not show each other that type of vulnerability.”

Manny swallows the lump in his throat, eyes closed, “I…thank you for telling me but I can’t say that this doesn’t hurt.”

Seraphina also moves to sit up in the bed, stomach doing somersaults instead of feeling butterflies like MJ said in that one song the two sung to each other just last night.

“Which is something I never wanted to do to you. I hope you believe me when I say that.”

“I know,” Manny dips his head, “You’re far from evil but you said you wanted to make sure you were over him before giving your best to me. I don’t want to believe that that was your best.”

“It wasn’t.” She admits, “You’ve seen part of my worst—

“I think your best was when you were away from Dante.” Manny adds, “Of course I knew you still missed the guy given that he’s your best friend and all but you were able to just be you and not half of someone else. I got to just see you. And I really liked her.”

Liked?

Seraphina is at a loss of words at that.

This she wasn’t sure she could a hundred percent agree with but perspectives were also another thing. This was someone who was on the outside looking in. Manny was closer to Seraphina on the east coast than Dante out in the Midwest. She was out of reach purposely, on her terms from Dante and it was tough but something she needed to do. Manny knows it deep down that she wouldn’t have made a trip back so soon if it wasn’t for her father’s decline.

Unfortunately the world wasn’t spinning in his favor.

Warm tears slide out the corners of her eyes and before she can wipe them away, Manny does the honors. He wants to say more but before he can there’s harsh knocks at the door. The two share a confused stare, which was enough to let Manny know that Seraphina was not expecting anyone this morning.

He’s on his feet first, not bothering to peek through the peephole since the knocks were urgent as he yanked the door open. There stands Dante, with a heated look in his eyes.

Dante doesn’t waste any time, shoving his way inside in search of Seraphina who’s standing beside the bed on alert. Manny lets the door slam shut behind him, marching right over to where Dante stands by the flatscreen on the wall.

“Okay now…I’m about to get disrespectful.” Manny announces, hands clasping in front of him.

Dante’s glare is only on Seraphina’s as he holds up a file, completely ignoring the man in the room, “Care to explain what the hell this is, Nina?”

He tosses the file onto the bed.

“What’re you doing here, Dante?” Seraphina takes a step forward, heart hammering in her chest as she realizes what’s on the bed.

There was no getting out of this.

“You left, fine. You left mi ma a note, fine. What isn’t fine is you leaving that behind in the bookshelf, which explains why you’re here in the first place.” Dante declaims.

Seraphina breathes, “…It’s not really your business.”

“It is when you lie to me!”

“Hey, keep your voice down when you’re speaking to her, man.” Manny warns Dante.

Dante holds up his hand to Manny who raises his brows.

“I didn’t lie.” Seraphina denies with a shrug of her shoulders, “I just didn’t tell you anything.”

Dante scoffs, a smile full of disbelief breaking out onto his face, which he rubs away with his finger, “Does he know?”

Manny steps closer to Dante then, “That you put your lips on what’s mine? Hell yeah I do.”

Dante sends a look of realization to Seraphina and then sizes Manny up, “That’s not what I was talking about but I’m going to need you to take about five steps back, bro.”

“Why are you even here?” Manny questions, “Did you get your permission slip signed?”

“Manny.” Seraphina foreworns.

Dante doesn’t have to answer to him but says, “Seraphina here is about to get herself into some shit she doesn’t need to be in, yet again.”

“That’s not up for you to decide,” Seraphina bites back, “Yet again.”

“Excuse me?” Dante frowns and points, “You’re the one who stepped back from forensic science because it got to be too much on your mental. Now you’re about to deal with some killer thieves you know nothing about? How do you think that’s going to go, huh?”

Seraphina snickers, “You don’t know what I know!”

“I know you’re not thinking this through, thinking you’re about to do this by yourself—or rather you and Peter!” Dante’s eyes are wide in anger, “Last time was already too much but this time will definitely put you six feet under.”

“Thanks for your confidence, asshole.”

“This isn’t a joke, Seraphina!”

Manny antagonized, “No but you are.”

“What?” Dante sneered as he turned his heated stare back to Manny, “Don’t you have a flight to catch back to Philly or something? Go annoy someone else.”

Manny licks his lips and sends a smug smile, “Why don’t I give you a personal one of your own? Outside that window right there?”

“Oh yeah?” Dante holds his hands out, “And you can a hundred percent guarantee that you’ll be charged with assault and attempted murder on a cop. C’mon the schools out in Philly got to be smarter than this.”

Now Manny’s got his forehead pressed right into Dante’s, “I’m not gonna tell you again to watch your mouth.”

“Or what?” Dante taunts.

Seraphina gets right in between them shoving both men away from each other with great force. There’s not a smile on Manny’s face anymore but there is on Dante’s and she was honestly ready to slap both of them.

“The both of you need to cut the who has bigger BDE right now! This is dumb.” Seraphina yells, “And honestly it’s too early for a migraine so shut up.”

Manny mumbled, “That’s not a competition anyway.”

Making Seraphina give him a blank look but he raises his hands in surrender, before placing his hand on top of her’s that’s resting against his chest. It’s his silent word of telling her he’ll try and cool down.

Dante laughs, “Keep telling yourself that, bro.”

Seraphina whips around to face the buzzed hair man who flicks his eyes right to her’s, “How did you even know I was here?”

“When I read through the file, I contacted Peter. And I’m sure you don’t need to know how i got that information.” Dante easily explains, “But the better question is, how did Manny find you?”

All eyes are on Manny’s now and he awkwardly rubs at the back of his neck.

“Manny?” Seraphina presses, trying to wrack her brain on when she spoke to Manny at any other point yesterday.

Firm knocks at the door only add to the tension in the room. The three all peer at each other and Seraphina is the first to move but Dante is quick to grab her shoulder.

“Let me.” His hand goes to his waist, nudging for her to step back and keep quiet as he goes to the door.

Peeking through the peep hole, he sends a look to Seraphina and Manny who have space in between them now. Dante sharply exhales through his nostrils as he pulls the hotel door open, revealing Deputy Chief Reid standing there with an easy smile.

“Good morning, Officer Torres, Seraphina Coty, and…Manny Castillo. Just the three I wanted to see. Will the two of you get dressed please so we can all take a ride?” He says in a way that isn’t up for debate before continuing, “Officer Torres, you can wait with me out here and why don’t you grab Coty’s file while we wait for me?”

Seraphina and Manny share a confused glance.

“Also…you won’t need to inform Officer Atwater of any of this just yet.” Chief Reid directs this towards Seraphina, burning a hole into her while she ignores the glare Dante sends her way, wanting nothing more than to slap the man in the doorway, “Agent Weaver is downstairs and will have a chat with Manny while us three tend to what we need to.”

Manny clears his throat speaking up, “Agent Weaver?”

“Yes,” Deputy chief dips his head but doesn’t elaborate for the man, choosing to leave that up to Seraphina, “That’s right and don’t worry, you’ll be in great hands until we figure this all out.”

No one makes a move and he sighs.

“We’re wasting time here people, let’s go!”

The bass in his tone this time around did not sit right to Seraphina and this Dante can sense. Her whole facial expression said, ‘I don’t know who this man thinks he’s talking to,’ but she moves from his sight nonetheless, wanting for his beady eyes to no longer be on her.

Dante moves back into the room to pick up the file while Reid holds the door open with his toe, Dante dips his head at the remaining two before leaving them alone once more.

The door clicks shut behind them and Seraphina digs her hand underneath the mattress to pull out the burner phone. Manny is staring at her wide eyed.

“What’re you doing?” He whispers, “I thought the guy said not to contact anyone?”

“That dimpled bitch doesn’t get to tell me what to do all the time,” Seraphina replied, “This is to keep Peter up to speed about you being with Weaver since I’m sure he doesn’t know about that. And I will be contacting Atwater, that’s what that nod was from Dante.”

Manny blinks, “Wow…I did not get that.”

“And I don’t get why you couldn’t answer Dante on how you knew I was here?” Seraphina exasperates, hand quickly grabbing her phone that’s on charge, fingertips flying over the screen to send a message to Kevin.

Once it was read, she pulls out the SIM card and waits for a message from Peter: understood. B careful. I think we’re all being followed. see u soon.

Which only makes Seraphina’s heartbeat spike, before her attention is back on Manny’s.

“Deputy chief Reid told me where you would be.” Manny tells which makes the woman raise her brows, “…Why is it feeling like I’m the one being interrogated right now?”

‘When you’re the one who broke my trust?’ he thinks.

A knock on the door warns, “Ten minutes.”

Seraphina wants to ask more but they’re all pressed for time, so she heads into the bathroom to flush the SIM card and works on getting ready while Manny gets dressed outside of the bathroom. Once ready, Manny pulls the door open with Seraphina leading the way.

“Great. Gang’s all here.” Reid walks off, expecting everyone to follow.

Seraphina asks before Dante can, “Where are we going?”

The Deputy Chief spins to face the three as he walks backwards, his smirk brightening as he looks back and forth between Dante and Seraphina, “To see a friend.”

That only meant one thing as brown eyes met spring…

This case was being brought to The Intelligence Unit now.

And right to Voight’s desk.

⏦ﾟ♡︎ ⋆˙⟡ ⚡︎ ⏦ﾟ♡︎ ⋆˙⟡ ⚡︎ ⏦ﾟ♡︎ ⋆˙⟡ ⚡︎ ⏦ﾟ♡︎ ⋆˙⟡ ⚡︎ ⏦ﾟ♡︎ ⋆

⇝ preview slip!

[luckykiwiii101]

hey kiwi, I am one of the people doing your challenge and I have a success story for one of my desires, I’m using anon mode because someone knows my tumblr and I never want them to see this because they’ll know and blah blah but I’ll give another story with my account so you know.

So, I was manifesting an sp and I had wanted them for a long time but things were on and off do I started the challenge and kept affirming but at some point I was contemplating on whether or not I wanted them for real and decided to affirm for their attention first instead, a little time had passed and long story short I ended up in a relationship with someone else and this other sp has gone from acting un phased to wanting SO MUCH of my attention it’s crazy I don’t even think you understand 😭this is the complete opposite of how they were before and I lowkey feel silly since I ended up finding someone better but hey, persisting works lol.

Oh damn!!! Great success story!💗

[hvnishere]

hey bestie are you feeling lost and aimless? me too!

Recently I’ve been feeling lost. I have no clue who I want to be or do in this reality. I’ve been in a constant state of limbo for longer than I can remember at this point—depression mixed with being obsessed manifestation for a few years has caused things to feel like a haze. I am always looking for the next thing; What should I manifest? Where should I shift to? What can I change? I haven’t been present in so long that whatever I’m manifesting wouldn’t even ground me. My head is in space and I am tired of it. This all has caused me to be annoyed with the law—not because I don’t believe in it though. I fully believe in the law and I always will. It just that I feel like I deserve a break from manifesting things.

Here’s the thing though, manifesting isn’t something that just turns off. You are always doing it, knowingly or unknowingly. I don’t want my 3D world to go crazy because I’m letting life happen to me. I thought about this for a second and realized it’d be best if I pivoted. I don’t need to manifest specific shit, I can just assume general things about my life and let things happen but everything that happens is within the guidelines of the assumption I created. For example, if I assume that my life is great, I’m happy, and grounded then that’ll happen. Good things will happen to me, I’ll be a happy person, and I’ll be grounded in this reality with my head out of the clouds. Doing this allows me to have room to think about what I want to do and figure out what it is. Part of me feels like my life path in this reality is to explore what it means to be pure consciousness. I think that’s definitely part of it but I feel like there’s something else there too and I need to find out what that is.

Now if you’re wondering if this would hinder the shifting experience, I’d argue that it could actually help if you let it. See, if you’re always worried about shifting it might make things harder for you because constantly fixating on something can make it feel so important or above you. There’s a difference in thinking about your DR because you like to and thinking about it because you’re unhealthily obsessed over trying to get there. You don’t need to constantly think about your DR to get there. Your current self and reality deserves attention and upkeep too. If you improve your current reality without trying via manifestation, then that can give you confidence in your abilities to shift. You shift with intention and assumptions and that’s also how manifesting works because it’s one and the same. If you can manifest a better current reality then you can manifest a shift. Same process, different outcome.

Oh and another thing! I feel like how I feel currently is a byproduct of depression. Depression used to be this visceral anger or deep sadness for me—I never thought it could be detachment and numbness towards everything around you. When I say I don’t care about a lot, I really don’t. Anything can happen and I won’t care about it. That can be a positive thing but too much of that means I’m literally so detached from reality that nothing matters. I don’t like that shit! It’s quite frankly boring. I want to do fun stuff and since I know the law I can literally do whatever I want?? Fuck being depressed. Admitting to this means I’ve been in a constant depression for *checks calendar* three years! Yipppeeeee!!

Anyways, I’m not announcing a break or anything! I just felt like sharing this with you guys and I’ll be slow on answering asks because I’m taking time away from always thinking about manifesting or shifting. I got books to read and things to do. I know now that I don’t need to be afraid of living this life just because I want things to change. Thanks for listening to me rant lol. My next rant will be a lovely positive update, I promise!

[matthyeu]

tim hortons ― smt.

pairing ⇢ seok matthew x gn!reader

genre ⇢ comedy, fluff

warnings ⇢ this was just self-indulgence as you will see </3, mentions of a car crash but nothing happened lol

word count ⇢ 1377

synopsis ⇢ this is how matthew's life would be if he didn't get 3rd place on boy's planet. hey, at least he met you.

notes ⇢ HEYYY GUESS WHOS BACK,,, well not really i’m just like popping back in after the comeback bc like WOWWW but hi i’ve been really stressed back in school doing a lot of exams and applications for nursing school. i just finished my teas and like the semester’s almost over so i’m so STRESSED AAAAAA and this has been in my drafts for so long bc yk i’m just manifesting myself getting into nursing school but i will def try to get more uploaded soon but i’m always tired from work and school eueueu got some drafts tho so i’m hoping to get that done soon. take care!!

perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to get an early start to studying for your pharmacology exam. not, it definitely wasn’t the best idea. every professor had always told you to review and study more than you thought you needed, so you tried your best to do just that. it was just that one confused topic led to another…and then to another until you realized it was nearing two. 

late nights were no stranger for a nursing student, but they were not recommended if you had plans for the morning after, especially if the morning after was your weekly 12-hour long clinical rotation. 

that was how you ended up with two and a half hours of sleep, a frantically thrown together lunch, missing materials, and a need for caffeine after you overslept your alarm by twenty minutes. you cursed your ability to sleep through alarms but also thanked yourself for setting alarms every five minutes in case this ever happened. 

the facility you were stationed at was a little over an hour from your apartment, so you would barely make it in time. there was realistically no time for you to stop by for coffee. usually, you would just make your own, but your unfortunate luck continued to prosper as you had forgotten to purchase more instant coffee in your last grocery run. however, seeing as how you nearly fell asleep behind the wheel the first ten minutes of your drive, you knew you needed it. if you died in a car crash, there was definitely no chance for you to make it to your clinical on time. 

you pulled into the parking lot at the tim hortons nearest to your apartment, seeing only one other car there who you assumed belonged to whatever employee was on opening duty. it was only 4:43. this location opened at 5. if you waited for it to open, you would definitely be late. even if you had just told yourself it was alright to be late, you were sure your instructor would not be pleased if you were, especially since this was an obstacle you could potentially get over. 

reluctantly, you shuffled your feet to the entrance, not worrying if you would wear the soles of your white shoes quicker than they were supposed to last. you didn’t want to bother the poor worker, but it was your only choice besides sitting in your car waiting for 17 minutes, which was definitely not practical. 

reaching the entrance, you peered in to see a young man diligently preparing for the day. you figured he would be far too busy to notice you (or it was just your excuse to walk back to your car and wait). still, mustered up the courage to wave at him from outside, refraining from knocking on the glass. 

by some dumb luck, he noticed you and came to the door from around the counter. he gave an apologetic smile as he opened the door, popping his head out. “sorry, we aren’t open yet.”

“actually, i was wondering if you could make an exception. i have to be at the hospital in an hour and it’s an hour drive from here,” you explained as you fidgeted with your watch. 

“oh definitely i can do that for you. that hospital must need you as soon as you can get there,” he commented as he opened the door wider for you to come in.

“oh no, they do not need me. yesterday i put on my sterile gloves wrong 4 times because of nervousness. if anything, they hope i’m not there,” you casually blurted out, which caused the employee to give you a concerned look. “i’m a nursing student, not a licensed healthcare provider. everyone always thinks of nurse or doctor when they see someone in scrubs, but i’m just a stressed person in college trying to get through.” 

“ah, makes sense. i thought you looked young to be finished with school already, but i didn’t want to say anything in case it was offensive,” he commented once you both were at the register, “what can i get for you?” 

“just a medium iced latte please,” you ordered as you dug through your wallet for the right card. 

“go ahead and insert your card whenever you’re ready.” 

and you did just that, receiving the receipt from the employee once the transaction was over. “it will be out shortly.” 

there wasn’t much for you to do but stand off to the side as you watched him work. as time went by, there was something familiar about him you couldn’t catch. it was as if you had seen him from somewhere, but the only places you really frequented were the library and hospitals. was it from tv? 

“here you go,” he announced as he slid the cup over the counter. 

as he was about to head back to finishing his preparations, you took a sip of your latte. with the newfound courage taken over you by the caffeine, your thoughts spilled out of your mouth. “do i know you from somewhere?” 

he chucked. “no, i don’t think you have. if so, it was a long time ago since i just got back to canada.”  

“you have a celebrity lookalike or something? i swear i’ve seen your face somewhere before,” you asked. 

“ever heard of boys planet?” 

then it hit you. you looked at his nametag. matthew. of course, he was the canadian from that korean reality show one of your friends had shown you. in fact, she begged for you to help her vote, and she was devastated when her one-pick didn’t make the group. and here he was, standing in front of you at tim hortons. 

“ohhh that makes a lot of sense. my friend had me voting every day for you when the show was airing. interesting seeing you working here. totally thought you’d continue trying to be an idol if you didn’t make the lineup.” 

“i missed home too much, i guess. i had it planned out during the finale too, the part time job i’d get if i didn’t make it. didn’t think i’d actually end up at timmies, but alas, things happen. thanks for your support though.” 

“don’t thank me,” you insisted, “i’m just an unsuspecting victim to desperate fans who wanted the best for their faves.” 

“i think that’s the best feeling though, meeting someone who doesn’t really care about what you’ve done or who you are. you’re the first person who’s actually recognized me, and i’m glad it’s not someone who would leak this information. though, i’m sure it will spread eventually.” 

you finally noticed what he was doing throughout the conversation: packaging a 10-count box of timbits. “here,” he called as he pushed yet another item over the counter, “on the house.” 

shaking your head, you quickly responded, “no i can’t.” 

“trust me, you’re going to need the boost of energy from the sugar for your shift. just take it, or else you’ll be late.” 

“oh shit,” you cursed, realizing you had spent too much time in the shop already, “fine, but i’ll be back and next time, i’m going to buy something for you to enjoy.” 

“mhm good luck!” 

you ran back to your car, relieved you decided to come in when you did when you saw a plethora of cars pulling in with two minutes until opening. the coffee was placed into the cupholder and the box onto your passenger seat. 

before beginning your long drive to your impending doom, you decided to have one of the timbits matthew had given you. that was when you noticed the small message written on the top of the box. 

good luck! you’re doing great things for the world :) come back anytime! i always open on fridays and will take you after 4:30. 

you smiled at the little note, popping one of the pieces into your mouth. it tasted way better than timbit you had ever had. you weren’t sure if that was just because they were fresh in the morning or the care you knew was packed into them. needless to say, you would wake up a little earlier on your fridays to go back to this location to see matthew.