#somehow. will always be astounded by that
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tillman · 2 years ago
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Crows bio + some uhmm THINGS found in the files of the recent patch lead me to believe my s3 prediction of venom johnny slayer and aba can still happen. And if even 1 of those happens in s3 I promise you I will never shut up about it 👍
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windwardstar · 7 days ago
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Listen. Listen. If you're thinking I like bottom surgery option except x thing. Chances are you can either not do or actually do x thing. Especially if you've not actually done research into it. Look into your options before you decide x thing has to be true.
It might make healing harder or be more difficult to find a surgeon who is willing to do so, but most of the time x thing isn't actually a hard and fast element.
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magpies-gold · 1 year ago
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Just some doodles I did of this guy over the past month. It's getting pretty apparent that he's kind of a comfort character like Myrnak and Shanka are - wildly different personality from those two, though, which is neat. Partly testing things, partly I just really like drawing eyes, and partly just brain-on-standby stuff.
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yumenosakiacademy · 1 year ago
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ppl need 2 learn tht, in fandom, if smth Can exist, it Does exist. fet!sh content of a thing? prob around if u look. any n every ship ever? absolutely there r shippers 4 it, esp if theyve interacted in canon or r connected in some way. p0rn of a certain chara? rule 34, babey. nothing should come as a surprise bc theres always so many fans 4 Every niche, regardless of if said niche is 2 ur or others liking or not. its there n theres nothing u can quite do abt it; its jus how it is.
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inkskinned · 1 year ago
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the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
#writeblr#warm up#this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru#but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist#ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school.#like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it.#was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes.#but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create''#when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work#part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just#like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent.#speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r#ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week#this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice.#''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism#imagine if we said that about literally any other profession.#''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt?#u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky''#we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY#''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''
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gojoest · 1 year ago
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𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄 — gojo satoru
MDNI, f! reader, she/her pronouns used, wc: 3.3k, flashback of how you met (1st part of the fic, past tense used, then we jump back to present, divider used to separate the two timelines. both take place on his birthday btw), suguru makes an appearance (as satoru’s wingman :3), established relationship (you’re married & have a daughter), reader wears a dress, first time face sitting + riding (oral, f! receiving), pet names (baby, my love), he cums in his pants, breeding implied at the end (sort of, to avoid spoilers)
a/n: happy birthday to my biggest mental illness ♡
side note: if the story of how you met sounds familiar to you, please note that it was from one of my talk posts from a while ago & i decided to make use of it : )
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what gojo satoru wants — he always gets.
after all, it’s how he made you his as well.
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“satoru, you’re staring way too hard at her”, suguru nudged him on the arm.
“think she noticed, too?”, satoru chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, ears turning slightly red from embarrassment, unsure if it was because he got caught or that it was too obvious he was checking you out.
“very likely. i mean, it’s hard not to notice an annoying pair of blue laser beams persistently invading your space”, suguru mocked. “are you going to talk to her?”
“yes”, satoru firmly replied, without peeling his eyes from you, “i’ll ask her out, i think”
“hey, hey. slow down there”
“nope”, satoru shrugged, almost like a stubborn child disobeying his parent, “i’ve made up my mind — i really want to make her mine”
it was a pure coincidence, or some might say fate, that you ended up in the same restaurant — he was there celebrating his birthday with a small circle of friends while you were present to honor your colleague that had just gotten a promotion at work.
satoru’s eyes relentlessly followed your every move, every gesture, from the moment you walked in and settled on the table next to his. it was rather unusual for him to be this interested in someone simply upon sight, in fact, even desiring to pursue something with someone so immediately. it was always the other way around — women would flock to him because of his looks and peculiar behavior, and of course — his money — but he would turn them down without batting an eye. love and seeking romance were never a priority for him, he did not have time nor any interest in them. but here he was, contradicting himself, being blatantly distracted by your presence while somehow trying to simulate an active conversation with his friends, more than frequently averting his gaze to look at you, his brain busy coming up with a plan to get your number by the end of the night.
it didn’t take him too long to finally make his move. he stood up from his chair and walked over to your table, stopping right behind your seat.
“excuse me”, he leaned in, placing one hand at the edge of the table and the other — at the back of your chair, “hello”, his face mere inches away from yours. taken aback by the way he, a complete stranger, had the guts to get this close to you, you turned to face him with a questioning look.
“i felt like i would regret it for the rest of my life if i didn’t come say hi to you”, he spoke.
truth be told, despite being astounded and a bit put off by his approach, you were slightly intrigued. he was handsome, pretty even — like that one oddly eye-catching cloud in a sky full of thousands that you notice as soon as you look up. the white henley shirt he was wearing made the blue in his eyes pop even more, the v-neck revealing a little bit of his well-crafted chest, just enough to leave you tiny bit wondering about the ridges of his abs beneath.
as much as the scenery up close made your cheeks feel hot, his boldness rubbed you up the wrong way, too much to let it just slide, and you snapped. “is that so? well, now that you’ve said your hi, you can go back to your table and live with no regrets for the rest of your life”, you rolled your eyes skeptically, pushing his hand off the table.
“oh, i am sorry”, he chuckled, brushing his hair back with a hand, “but there are three more things i need to do before leaving, i’m afraid”
you raised an eyebrow, questioning.
“first, let me introduce myself — i am gojo satoru, also known as the man to be your boyfriend, then your husband, and then the father of your children”, he smugly said. your eyes widening at the audacity of his declaration that left you at a loss for words. “second, i hope you don’t mind introducing yourself as well — as you are to be my girlfriend, then my wife, and then the mother of my children — it’s only natural that i know your name”, he continued, “and last but not least — i am not leaving until you give me your number so we can make this all work”
wow. this man was really fucked in the head, you were sure of it — who in the right mind would speak such nonsense to someone they just met? “you have to be joking, right?”, you laughed in genuine disbelief.
“no. i am dead serious”, he replied in a heartbeat.
“is this your move? you pull this on everyone you find remotely attractive?”, you narrowed your eyes.
“actually—”, suguru interrupted, placing a hand on satoru’s shoulder as he approached from behind, “no”, he spoke. “believe me when i tell you this — he’s never been this smooth in his entire life. i know he probably came off a bit creepy, considering the boldness of his actions — hell, even i am creeped out because it’s pretty unusual for him to act like this”, he laughed, glancing at satoru to let him know that he got his back on this. “but, what i’m trying to say is — my friend here seems to really like you as i’ve never seen him be so intense and interested in anyone before. he’s also a birthday boy today — so could you at least give him a chance before turning him down so quickly? you can come sit with us before you make up your mind on whether you want to give him your number or not?”
you thought for a second, weighing the options in your mind — he was pretty, although he annoyed you a little bit by being all bossy and arrogant as if you were compelled to belong to him just because he said so. but there was just something about him you couldn’t quite put your finger on that made you question yourself. were you actually drawn to him? you could say “no” and never hear from him again, occasionally pondering over the what-if’s and should-have’s from this night; or you could say “fuck it” and see where this strange encounter goes, and live your life without regrets — as he would say. there — he was already getting under your skin…
“well”, you sighed, “guess i’m down for that”
by the end of the night not only did you give him your number, but also a promise for a date the next day — the first of many to follow after.
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“careful, you’ll wake her up”, you whisper, leaning against the doorframe of your 3-year old’s room and watching your husband place a soft peck on your daughter’s forehead.
“can’t help it”, he speaks quietly, “she looks like an angel”, before fixing the blankets around her, making sure she’s tucked in all cozily. “the nanny said she cried for papa while we were gone”, he puts a hand over his mouth to stop his lips from trembling, his eyes filled with nothing but love and tenderness, welling up and flowing from the corners.
“she’s such a daddy’s girl”, you sigh, a soft smile present on your face, “next year we can stay home and invite everyone else over — that way we won’t have to worry about missing her bedtime”.
“yea”, he hums, “let’s do that next year”, giving her one last kiss before turning off the night lamp and tiptoeing to you. “come on”, he puts a hand at the small of your back as you both walk out of the room.
“do you remember”, satoru speaks softly into your ear while walking behind you on your way to your shared bedroom, his front flat against your back, the hand at the small of it now circling around to rest over your navel, while the other — reaches for the handle of your bedroom door to push it open, “the night we first met on my birthday?”, he continues after carefully guiding you inside.
you stop in the middle of the room, his arms still wrapped around you from behind, your hands resting over his and playing with his knuckles.
“how can i not?” you chuckle, tilting your head back to let him rest his chin on your forehead, “that was one hell of a fortune telling you pulled on me back then”
“but i was right, no?”, he brushes his lips on your forehead before leaving a soft peck, “see — you’re all mine now, just like i said”, and then another, ”i made you my girlfriend first”, and another, “then i gave you my last name”, and a fourth one, “and then you gave me a beautiful daughter, made me a father”, before turning you around to face him.
“you partly owe it to suguru though — he eased me into the situation, unlike you”, you reply, humbling him like you always do. your head is nestled on his broad chest as one of his hands caress the back of it. still in his embrace, he slowly walks you towards the bed. sits at the edge of it and straddles you on his lap. his palms finding their way to the plush of your thighs draped over his, caressing them tenderly but needily as his fingertips press and then release against your flesh in quick repetitive motions.
“this is because i asked him to give me a hand in case you cut me off”, he admits, tilting his head to meet your lips, not to kiss but just to keep them brushing against each other as you speak. he loved doing this a lot.
“oh?”, you gasp into his mouth, pretending to be shocked to your core, “you wanted me so much that you of all people, the gojo satoru, had to ask someone else for help?”
“you have no idea. if that hadn’t worked, i would’ve fallen on my hands and knees and begged you to take me”, one of his hands reaching the side of your face, playing his fingers on the strands of your hair covering your cheek before tucking them behind your ear.
“hmm”, you doubt, “is that so?”, nuzzling your nose against his.
“mhmm”, he nods, “there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you, i thought you knew that by now. it kind of hurts my feelings that you doubt me actually”, he acts offended, pursing his lips and turning his head to the side to face away from you.
“oh my, what have i done now”, you knit your brows and press your cheek against his, pretending to be very, very sorry about what you just said.
“you made the birthday boy sad”, he huffs a silly, somehow obviously forced, pout, “you’ve got to make it up to me somehow”
“i’d do anything to make the birthday boy smile again — just say the word”, you sweetly pamper, patting the top of his head.
“really?”
“really.”
“anything?”
“anything.”
“you promise not to go back on your word?”
“i promise.”
he pulls his cheek away from yours and looks you in the eyes, the blue in his shining with a darker shade of mischief now. and considering the smug smile on his face, you sigh — perhaps you just got yourself played, falling face down into his little trap.
“then”, he points at his own face, “sit on it”
to say you were surprised by his request would be a lie. he’s many times tried coaxing you into doing this in the past but somehow you managed to avoid it, part of you still shying away from it. it’s not like his tongue has never been inside you before. but riding it as if it were his cock seemed way more obscene in your head than anything you two have ever done previously — and you’ve done pretty much a lot.
“well”, you sigh in defeat, seems like the time has finally come, “today’s your lucky day”, you say as you get up from his lap and turn your back — a signal for him to unzip your dress — to which, of course, he immediately complies.
“as it should be”, his crafty fingers work the slider down, slowly peeling the dress off your body and letting it fall on the floor, followed by your lace thong and bra, “it’s my birthday after all”
“the way you always find a way to make things go your way gets on my nerves so much”, you turn around again and push him on the bed and slowly climb on top of him to straddle his chest.
“make a wish before you blow the candle”, you look down at him, your pussy close to his face, the scent of you tickling his nostrils, and he, instinctively almost, takes a deeper breath, rolling his eyes back and hissing with delight.
“freak”, you quickly look away, embarrassed, but he cups your cheeks, forcing you to look at him again, “i want you to look at me as you ride my face”, his voice comes out breathy, “will you do that for the birthday boy?”
you nod into his palms, “you’re insufferable” — “suffocate me then”, he coos through a grin, grabbing your knees to pull you forward until you’re above his face.
“jerk”, you say, but softly, as you lower your cunt on his willing mouth, landing your softness on his face in slow motion, immediately earning a throaty groan from him that shudders through your pussy lips.
satoru breathes deeply in and out with your heat on his mouth, the scent of you hitting his lungs and even below, reaching all the way down to his groin to further nurture his cock already throbbing in his slacks. his hand reaching down to unbuckle them slightly, to give more space for his hard-on to grow freely.
“mowe”, he muffles incoherently into your pussy, grabbing a handful of your ass cheeks to push you against his face, tilting his head up and down, jutting his jaw up and out to meet you.
you whimper at the friction, your clit bumping and rubbing against his nose as his lips are kissing your folds, his tongue slowly poking at your entrance with the tip before darting in — twirling around your walls — and out.
“nghh…s-sa-t-to—”, you barely cry out his name, tugging at his hair, mercilessly pulling him into your heat. as much as you hated to admit it, you loved this position. your embarrassment long gone and forgotten, you ride his face in a haze, your pussy getting wetter against his mouth and your movements — faster and harder each moment.
“heawen on my fongwue”, he groans. if he could speak properly right now, he would probably make the nastiest, dirtiest remarks, shamelessly walk you through every single thing he was feeling as you rocked your hips back and forth, grinding on his face. he would probably say something about your boobs, too. how they looked so pretty jiggling ever so slightly from the movement. he can’t speak right now, yes, but he can still get his thoughts reach you through actions — his hands run along your belly, gripping your breasts from below, squeezing and squishing them inside of his palms.
you clutch his hands with yours, “i can’t hold this position for too long”, and force them down on your hips for support. you hear him say something through a loud groan but it’s barely recognizable — most likely just him cursing “fuck” and “baby” from pleasure under your pussy, but also from the ego boost you just gave him — that he can make you weak but at the same time desperate enough to want to continue — despite your hips giving up — not only with his cock but his mouth alone, too.
you let him take over as you chase your high, weighing on his face as his hands grip on your hips, dictating your every move, composing the tune of your hips. his tongue is no more sliding in and out as he makes you grind harder on his face — it stays in, continuously licking your sweet spot clean.
“f-fuck, fuck, fuck…”, you curse loudly, reaching your hands to grab the head of the bed and hammer your pussy harder into his face, squeezing every last drop of strength left in your already cramping muscles until you cum, shuddering on his mouth.
“mfff”, he groans throatily into your hole, sucking and slurping your juices. his hips buck in the air, helplessly searching for friction to soothe his aching cock. his half-unbuckled pants are drenched with precum, leaking out from his tip through his boxers and out through the cloth of his pants, visibly staining them.
you can’t see but it’s easy to figure out from the way the bed bounces up and down as his ass meets the mattress after every time his hips fall down. “how cute”, you utter as you try to calm down your breathing, cunt still resting over his face.
his eyes are half closed, rolling back and hiding their blue away. all he needs is a little push, a little rub, you know it. you know it by the way his tongue has stopped moving inside you, by the way his hands have loosened the grip on your flesh, by the way his shortened moans have grown into one long and steady groan coming from the bottom of his throat — his entire brain solely focused on the muscles of his lower body that is searching, almost beggingly, for relief.
you lean your upper body back a little, just enough to make it easier to reach his shaft while still sitting on his face. “since you’re the birthday boy”, you drag your words out as you place your hand on his clothed cock, feeling the wetness that’s emerged from beneath against your palm, “i’ll give you a hand.”
his ass cheeks tense and squeeze as he presses his hips against your touch, ferociously rubbing his clothed cock on the flesh of your open palm. his groans get louder as he bucks his hips under your hand, pushing them up to meet your hand harder and faster each time — just the way he forces his cock into your tight cunt as he nears — until the last three thrusts that he always prolongs in order to properly and completely pump his seed out.
the inside of your hand feels hot against his clothed cock as he seeps himself out, the stickiness of his cum absorbing itself into the material of his pants and emerging through it to reach the skin of your palm.
you lift yourself up a little only to plop your body down next to his. his mouth, cheeks, chin, even his nose, are covered in his spit and your cum, all mixed in.
“shit, baby”, he laughs, breathing deeply in and out of his mouth, overwhelmed by the whole experience, “what the hell did you just do to me”
“do you really need me to verbalize what just happened”
“yes”
“no”, you slap his cheek with the back of your hand, softly, before rolling on your side to rest your head on the left side of his chest, kissing it tenderly. “happy birthday”
“it really is”, he whispers, tracing a heart shape over the skin of your exposed cheek with his fingertip, “with you, it always is”
“did your wish come true by any chance?”, you tilt your head to look at him.
“not yet. but i’ll work on it later tonight. for now, i’ll let you catch your breath”
“wait, wait.”, you raise a brow, “what’s that supposed to mean?”
“my love”, he clears his throat, “do you remember how i said, when we first met, that you’d be the mother of my children?”
“yea? am i not?”
“children”, he stresses.
“oh.”, it finally hits you.
“one more to go”
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egcdeath · 8 months ago
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something old, something new
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pairing: patrick zweig x f!reader
summary: when your childhood best friend asks you to get married, how are you supposed to say no?
word count: 7.2k
warnings: MATURE (mentions of sex but no explicit sex scenes), marriage of convenience, fluff, mentions of alcohol, patrick is a bad friend (but he improves), friends to spouses to lovers, fake dating, yearning and pining, everyone is bad at communicating, many feelings are being repressed, mentions of dieting in an athlete way, one singular creepy old man, no use of y/n
author’s note: i cannot get this tennis man out of my head!! i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!
It wasn’t every day that you could count on hearing anything from your childhood best friend, but it seemed like whenever you did hear from Patrick Zweig, it was always an ask for something more shocking than the previous one. 
As kids, you spent many evenings doing the homework that Patrick didn’t want to do, despite the fact that you didn’t really want to do more homework either. At boarding school, you’d somehow become his personal designated driver, answering his calls no matter what time and groggily picking him up from whatever party he’d found himself at. In your adulthood, you found yourself becoming a go-to stand-in for him at events he didn’t feel like attending. The amount of times that you’d shaken hands at charity galas and introduced yourself as Patrick’s girlfriend, despite not having a single romantic encounter with him, was frankly astounding. 
It seemed like whenever Patrick needed something, you were the first person he reached out to. After his parents, of course. 
You dreaded knowing the reason behind the simple hey, text message you’d just received, but you were sure that you’d find the reason out sooner rather than later–and that whatever the reason was could not have been good. 
Like clockwork, only an hour after you’d received his message, Patrick appeared at the doorway of your apartment. He came to you equipped with his secret weapon, the kicked puppy look that he often used on you before he asked you for a ridiculous favor, like breaking up with his girlfriend for him or telling his mom that he still wasn’t joining the board of the family business. 
You sighed as you took his less-than-stellar appearance in. Downtrodden expression, wrinkled and sweat-stained shirt, as if he’d gone to the gym to sweat out his feelings before coming to you, and eyes so red-rimmed, you wondered if he’d been crying. 
If you had to guess, he’d either been arguing with his parents, who knew exactly how to get under his skin, or his tennis friends, who also knew exactly how to get under his skin, or his latest girlfriend, who probably confronted him about his own wrongdoings. Regardless of who had upset him, he had obviously come to you to lick his wounds. 
Like always, Patrick stalked inside without asking you for any further permission. The two of you had done this song and dance more times than either one of you would like to admit. 
“How are you?” he asked, stopping in your kitchen to steal an apple from your decorative bowl of fruit.
“I’m good,” you said with hesitation, eyeing him once more. He really looked like shit. If he hadn’t looked so sad, you would’ve told him exactly how much shit he looked like.  
“Aren’t you gonna ask me how I am?” he questioned, a little pathetically.
“No,” you walked off to your living room, fully expecting him to follow you. You were unsurprised when he did exactly that. “Let’s just get right to it. Why’d you come over here?” you asked as the two of you sat down on your couch. 
“My parents are cutting me off,” he explained, voice breaking as he spoke.
Surely, this couldn’t all be over an empty threat. They seemed to threaten Patrick with this every few days. In fact, you’d been in the room with him when his parents promised that he’d never see another dime from them–more than once. Every time, it ended with them coming to their senses and throwing more cash at him. 
“That’s what, the twentieth time?” you laughed. “They always threaten to cut you off. What’s different this time?”
“This time, they mean it.”
You laughed even harder in his face. If you had a quarter for every time you’d had this conversation, you’d be richer than the two of your families combined. 
“I’m serious,” he inched closer to you. “They’re tired of funding my ‘tennis habit’. They want me to get serious about life. To join the board and start a family. My dad showed me an edited draft of his will and everything”
“So?” you prompted, trying to figure out where you fell into the equation. Hopefully he wouldn’t try to put you up to something absurd, like seducing his father into convincing him to not threaten Patrick’s inheritance.
“So, tennis is the only thing I care about.”
“Okay…” you trailed off. “What would you like me to do about that?”
“I need you to help show my parents that I have a vision for the future.”
“Again, Patrick, what exactly are you asking me to do?”
“Marry me.”
You weren’t sure what you expected him to say, but it certainly was not that. Your mouth instantly dropped open and you were sure that you were gaping like a fish. Maybe if he had asked you ten years ago, you’d have instantly said yes, but you’d let that naive dream die after you’d come to realize the transactional subtext of your friendship.
“What?”
“I want you to marry me. I was thinking… you remember when we were younger and we made that pact, that if we weren’t married by the time we were adults, then we’d get hitched?”
You continued to stare at him, completely dumbfounded and not believing a single word coming from his mouth. “I… I…” you couldn’t even form the words. “We were kids!”
He gave you a halfhearted shrug, as if that didn’t matter at all, and as if he didn’t just ask you to be legally and romantically bound to him forever.
“You are fucking unbelievable! You haven't talked to me for anything other than asking me a favor in years, I barely know you’re alive apart from the random drunk texts you send me, and now you want me to marry you? Do you even hear yourself?”
You scoffed and stared at him in disbelief. “And that has to be the worst proposal in all of human history. First you tell me that tennis is the only thing you care about and then ask me to marry you? You’re a joke.”
He let you finish your rant, but after a beat he finally asked. “…Is that a no?”
———-
Stranger things had happened to you than marrying your childhood best friend just a month after he’d randomly popped back up in your life. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you walked down the aisle on a beautiful beach off of the Amalfi Coast.
The last few weeks had been an absolute whirlwind, with what felt like every second of your time consumed by making guest lists and invitations, booking hotel rooms, and finding a dress that you liked enough to get married in. Obviously, you knew this was more of an elaborate scheme than a celebration of love, but you wanted it to be nice anyway. For all you knew, you may never get married again.
You don’t know what possessed you to say yes to Patrick. Maybe the small, desperate part of you that had been begging him to truly see you since you were old enough to realize he didn’t, or maybe the desire to finally have that fairytale destination wedding you’d been dreaming about from the time you learned what a wedding was. Regardless of the reason, both of your families were overjoyed by the union. In one fell swoop, you’d been able to satisfy both of your parents’ desires for you to settle down, and you’d done it with someone both pairs approved of. 
You had to give props to Patrick, the ceremony was beautiful. Given the short timeline, the two of you decided to divide and conquer the planning of the event. You were sure that he’d outsourced the work, since he was still in the middle of his tennis season, but whoever he hired did an excellent job at giving you the wedding you’d always wanted. 
Despite the very short timeline everyone had been given, you were able to wrangle all of your close family and friends to Italy to watch you elope. Your parents had insisted on inviting second cousins and shareholders to your wedding, but you’d somehow convinced them that you and Patrick wanted a smaller, more intimate ceremony. It was probably better to have less people there, lest someone notices the artificial nature of your union. 
Part of you felt like you’d pulled off the greatest prank of all time as the two of you stood up in front of your small crowd, gazing as lovingly as you could manage into each others’ eyes while the officiant said his spiel, but the other, more logical part of you filled with dread as the reality of the situation began to set in. Patrick seemed to have a way of always dragging you into a shitty situation, and you hoped for both of your sakes, that that wouldn’t be the case for your marriage.
After what felt like a lifetime, Patrick began to recite his vows, claiming to have loved you since you were children, and promising to continue to love you ‘till death did you part. If you had been marrying literally anyone else, your knees would go weak with swooning. 
Unfortunately, you were cursed with the knowledge of the reality of your situation, one where your vows sounded more like: “We only have to stay married until I retire, which should be sooner rather than later. We don’t have to do anything together: no galas, no family dinners, no family vacations. Hell, you don’t even have to come to my games. And we don’t have to be exclusive either. This is basically just a title, so feel free to see anyone you want to. I can already see the worry in your face. Stop that. We can hire someone to make us prenups, so the divorce will be an easy, clean split of our assets. See? It’s not that bad.”
The dichotomy between the words he’d said to you a month ago and the bullshit he was spewing now almost made you laugh, but that was clearly not the reaction you were meant to be having when the love of your life was publicly declaring their feelings for you. 
Once he finished declaring his romantic, empty words, you began to read off your vows. They fell in a similar vein to his, a proclamation of a lifetime-spanning love that didn’t really exist in the first place. But when you glanced up at him from your slip of paper, he was really selling it. He stared at you like he adored you, like he wanted to study every inch of your face after running off with you into the sunset.
The ridiculousness of it all finally hit you like a freight train, and you managed to pivot the laugh that was creeping up into your throat into a weepy sounding crack of your voice. Surely people cried during their own weddings. 
You finished off your vows, doing your best to pretend like this whole ordeal wasn’t the most ridiculous scheme you’d ever been dragged into. You imagined a world where he was less selfish and you were less selfless, one where you were exchanging these vows with sincerity, and it helped you to get through the words that you knew were almost completely meaningless. 
The two of you then took turns placing the ring on each others’ fingers, with Patrick giving you a ring with the largest diamond you’d ever seen, and you giving him a band that had been passed throughout your family. He’d agreed to give you the heirloom back once you divorced, so you couldn’t complain too much about giving it away in the first place.
The announcement of being able to kiss the bride rang out in your ears, yet you still found yourself surprised when Patrick eagerly wrapped his arms around you and kissed you passionately. Cheers erupted around the two of you, and you pulled away as the officiant declared you Mr. and Mrs. Zweig.
You had successfully tricked your audience, and yet, you still had the strangest feeling. 
Your reception felt far more natural than your wedding ceremony. After a change of outfit, a huge bowl of pasta, and a few flutes of champagne, you were feeling substantially better about the arguably poor decision you’d just made. You chatted up your friends, who jumped at the opportunity to comment on how cute of a couple you two were, did some light matchmaking between single guests, and placated both of your parents with manufactured acts of affection. You even managed to get Patrick out on the dance floor, after he swore to you that he didn’t dance. 
By the time the two of you were stumbling back into your villa, the woes of the day had practically been forgotten. When you were having this much fun, who cared about a massive, potentially life altering decision? 
You immediately made a beeline to the bathroom, anxious to get into your comfortable pajamas and to wash your face after a long day of wearing tight, extravagant dresses and a heavy layer of makeup.  
“So what did you think of your big day, Mrs. Zweig?” Patrick called out from the other side of the bathroom door, where you were sure he was also preparing for bed. “Was it everything you wanted and more?”
“I think this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” you paused as you thought about something before confessing, “but it was everything I wanted and more.”
“Yes!” he celebrated from where you couldn’t see him, though you could perfectly envision the goofy look on his face. “I owe it to you after everything I’ve put you through. I just hope you weren’t too let down by the groom.”
“What?” you drew out before blowing a raspberry. “Of course not. You looked very handsome today,” you complimented in between splashes of your face. 
“You looked pretty beautiful, yourself,” he complimented you right back. 
“Aww, thank you, honey,” you emphasized the pet name. 
“Hmm, I don’t know if I like that,” you heard the squeak of the bed from behind the door as you assumed that he’d sat down.
“Hey, you’re the one who made me marry you,” you pointed out. “Am I more than you bargained for?”
“Of course not, babe,” he emphasized his own pet name, which sent you into a fit of laughter. “It’s just so weird to hear you refer to me as anything other than an asshole.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you’re still an asshole,” you replied as you walked out of the bathroom, donning an old shirt with the logo of your boarding school and an equally old pair of shorts. “Just a married asshole.”
You took in the sight of your now-husband as you made your way to your side of the bed, surprised to find that you quite liked the sense of domestic bliss you were feeling. The bed dipped as you sat down and glanced back at Patrick with the slightest bit of hesitation. 
“Is this weird for you? I can go to the spare room, if you want me to,” he offered, surely in reference to the two of you sleeping in the same bed. 
“Don’t worry about it,” you assured him, setting a steady hand on his knee. “What kind of couple would we be if we didn’t spend our wedding night together?” you teased. 
“The kind of couple that marries for convenience?” he suggested.
“Hey, who’s to say that this isn’t love? I had the biggest crush on you when we were kids. Maybe some of it lingered, or some shit.”
“Oh yeah?” he looked at you with that sleazy smirk that you both loved and hated. “What happened?”
“Hmm… I think I realized that you’re a dick,” you matched his smirk with a challenging one of your own.
“Huh. Did you have this realization before or after you started seeing Dan Thompson?” he questioned.
You were surprised by the mention of your first boyfriend, particularly because you weren’t sure that Patrick remembered any detail about your personal life, let alone your love life. “I realized it after you started treating me like your workhorse.”
“Oh okay, so you had a crush on me while you were with your boyfriend. Good to know.”
“Shut up,” you groaned and turned away from him as you finally full laid down. 
“Would it make you feel better to know that I also had a crush on you?” you heard the bed sheets rustle as he scooted closer to you, and you turned back to face him. 
“You’re lying.” You couldn’t see any world where that would make sense to you. In your youth, it seemed like Patrick was always off somewhere with a new person, and none of those people were you. Not that you had an issue with it, but the thought that the two of you might’ve had crushes on each other at the same time without either of you pursuing each other felt kind of weird. 
“Nope. You’re the first person I ever jerked off to,” he said as casually as if he were telling you what he ate for breakfast, not breaking eye contact with you.
“Ew, you’re so gross,” you gently pushed him, but your hands lingered where they sat on his chest. “Was that supposed to be romantic or something?”
“That’s not romantic to you?” he asked with all the sincerity of someone who was fully committing to a bit. 
The two of you broke out into laughter. Once you finally caught your breath, you began once more. “This is gonna be a long marriage.”
“Hopefully,” he remarked in response. 
“If you keep talking to me like that, I will literally go get our marriage annulled, like right now.”
“Please don’t,” he whined, grabbing one of your hands from his chest and kissing your fingers. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“Every time you promise to make something up to me, an inconsistent fairy gains its wings.”
“Hey,” his tone suddenly became very serious, completely catching you off guard. “I really am sorry that I’ve been a terrible friend. I don’t know that I’ve ever said it, but I am. You deserve so much better than me, and I don’t even know how I convinced you to do this for me.”
You almost started to laugh, unable to take the absurd situation seriously. You’d been waiting years to hear him genuinely apologize, and now hours after you’d married solely as a favor to him, he was finally telling you what you wanted to hear. 
“Please. I’m serious. I know you think I’m a piece of shit flaky ashhole, and I am, but I want to be a better husband to you than I ever was as a friend.”
You felt your heart stop beating for a second. The word husband sounded so foreign in his mouth. You couldn’t quite pin how you felt about it, but you knew you felt uncomfortable with the intimacy of his words. 
“Patrick, please shut up,” you squeezed your eyes shut, suddenly a little overwhelmed with the Patrick of it all. In fact, you couldn’t think of anything more encapsulating of your experience with him than the whiplash you got from that moment. He could be a complete asshat, but his occasional moments of earnestness kept you following him like a lost puppy, accepting his apologies and granting him ridiculous favors, despite your better judgment. 
“Are you okay?” he asked, moving closer to you to get a good look at you. You swore you felt your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. 
“I’m fine, I just-“ am overwhelmed by you being sweet? Can’t believe that I’m hearing you say this to me after so long? Also can’t believe that you and I are married?
None of the right words seemed to come to you, so you did the second best thing you could think of. 
You pecked his lips and pulled away as if you’d just touched a hot handle. You didn’t know what had come over you, and immediately began to apologize profusely. 
“Oh my god, I don’t know-“ you were cut off by his hands on your face, greedily and sloppily pulling you back in for another kiss, this one far more passionate and confident than the first. 
Your kiss was messy but fervent, years of pent up sexual frustration and non-sexual frustration behind your every movement. As you kissed, you moved to straddle him, feeling a little ridiculous in your ratty old clothes, but that didn’t stop him from groping you over your pajamas like you were the hottest thing on the planet. 
Maybe the strangest thing to happen to you that day wasn’t even your wedding.
——
That night was the first in a series of very strange events. You couldn’t even fully wrap your head around what was happening in your marriage. You just knew that the two of you had become closer friends than you’d ever been before, and that you slept together when either of you had the urge. It was basically a no strings attached situation, except, legally, all strings were attached. 
If you were confused by your arrangement, you were sure that your friends were even more lost, something they proved to you as they interrogated you over brunch. 
“So, just so we’re clear, you married him as a favor?!” your friend asked in complete disbelief. 
“Well… yeah, basically.”
“Shit. Can I ask you for a favor of a million dollars?” she joked, leading to the laughter of your other friends at the table.
“Well, that’s different. At least with our marriage, we both benefit. He gets his parents off his ass about being so focused on tennis that he doesn’t have any future prospects, and I get my parents to stop trying to marry me off to every single rich boy they find.”
“But you’re not like, actually married. Like you guys don’t have feelings for each other?” another friend questioned.
You sipped your mimosa before explaining your situation for what must’ve been the fifth time that day, “we’re basically friends with benefits.”
“But you’re legally married? Like, the wedding was official and stuff?”
“Legally? Yeah. But it’s literally just that,” you clarified. 
“Legal marriage and sex?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, hoping that they were finally catching on. 
“Then… are you guys seeing other people?”
“Oh yeah, what ever happened to that one model guy you were seeing?” another one of your friends pitched in. 
“It didn’t really work out,” you addressed that with an understatement. He rightfully flipped his shit when he found out you were going to be marrying someone else. “But neither of us are seeing other people. I don’t think either of us want to risk bringing anything back to one another.”
“That sounds pretty committed to me.”
“Not really,” you dismissed.
“Then why are you even together?”
“How many times do I have to explain how we both benefit from this?”
“No, not legally, or socially or whatever. Why are you hooking up with him? Aren’t you scared you’ll mess up your friendship or something?”
“Well, the sex is really, really good. But I’m really not worried. There's no romance between us. We’ve been friends for so long that it’s just… weird to look at him like anything other than my friend. It’s basically a loveless marriage of convenience.”
Your friend shot you a skeptical look. You just shrugged her off. 
———
The moment you found out your afternoon meeting had been canceled, you reached out to your assistant to make arrangements for you to go to Patrick’s tennis game. He’d been on a winning streak, and though he insisted that you didn’t need to come to his games, you knew that he secretly liked having you there. 
Over the past few months of your marriage, you’d grown to realize that he often didn’t say what he actually meant. Like the time he told you that he preferred to live alone, before breathily confessing in your ear that he slept better by your side. Or when he swore to you that he loved the pancakes you’d served him, despite the food being some of the worst you’d ever put in our mouth and him being on a diet. You almost found it sweet that he tried to prioritize your feelings over his own, which was surely a result of overcompensation from the way he had treated you for the majority of your lives. 
You arrived at his match just in time to watch him take a break, making your way into the stands and finding a seat where you’d have the best view of your friend as possible. You didn’t expect him to scan the audience and find you until much later on, but you were pleasantly surprised when the two of you made eye contact and he absolutely lit up. You waved, then gave him a thumbs up in hopes to communicate your support from far away. 
While you couldn’t always make it, you liked to play the role of supportive tennis wife. Getting dressed up and making an appearance not only publicly legitimized your sham of a marriage, but helped you to reconnect with some of your former boarding school classmates, who were often in the stands supporting a friend or a loved one. You also just liked to watch him play, as witnessing the passion and ferocity he had out on the court was extremely entertaining, and even at times, mildly arousing.  
With their break ending, Patrick went back out on the court and played just as well as you expected him to, crushing his competition, and looking up into the stands at you to celebrate once he’d scored the winning point. 
At first, it was surprising how proud his wins made you feel of him, a feeling that you explained to yourself by arguing that if he wasn’t giving his absolute all to tennis, then your marriage had basically been all for nothing. Although that did still ring slightly true, the truth was that you were simply proud of Patrick. Whether you liked it or not, the two of you were a unit now, which meant that his wins were your wins and vice versa. In some ways, it was kind of nice to be part of a team. Or at least his team.
You met Patrick down on the court, where he paused from packing his bag to immediately greet you with a kiss to the forehead, a small act of intimacy that was typically reserved for situations far different from the one you were currently in. 
“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming!” he exclaimed, pulling you in for a half-hug. 
“I didn’t know I was coming either,” you instinctually wrapped your arm around him in response to his half-hug. “Great job out there. You kinda demolished him!”
“I did, didn’t I,” he said just loud enough for you to hear, still wanting to appear like a good sport. “I have to go get ready for the press conference. Do you want to meet me at my hotel?”
“Of course. You don’t mind me staying for the night?” you probed, despite knowing the answer. He wouldn’t have asked you to go to his hotel in the first place if he’d minded.
“You know I never mind you staying for the night,” he gave you a cheeky wink.
“You’re so sleazy,” you commented with fake disgust.
“You started it,” he replied, reluctantly pulling away from you and reaching into his bag to grab his hotel keycard. “I’ll text you when I’m heading back.” 
The moment you received a message about him being on his way to the hotel, you made a very lengthy phone call and request to the restaurant in the building. Technically, he shouldn’t be eating any of what you ordered, on account of him being on a strict diet plan, but you figured that he deserved it after playing the way that he did. Besides, Patrick liked thoughtful acts of service, and you figured that this would count as one.
“You know me so well,” he practically gasped as he stepped into the room, taking in the platters of food you’d laid out for him.
“What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t?” you teased, though your sentiment was somewhat accurate, and it was clear that the two of you had grown to know each other far better over the past few months, you hoped that your friend wasn’t interpreting your words in too serious of a way. 
The two of you laid out on the pristine hotel bed, eating the feast that you’d ordered without much dialogue between you, other than a comment on how good something was, or a request to pass an item to one another. It felt oddly domestic, and oddly enough, you liked it. Maybe you liked it even more than you’d been willing to admit.
“I’m gonna go shower,” he announced after tossing his napkin onto a cleared off plate.
“Want some company?” you offered, raising your brows at him in a playfully suggestive manner.
“Is that what this is all about?” he feigned offense. 
“Maybe,” you trailed off. “Or maybe I just wanted to celebrate the greatest tennis player of all time,” you purred.
“Come on. You and I both know that is far from the truth.”
“Well you’re the greatest player in my heart,” you praised, much to his chagrin.
“Ugh. Shut up and come shower with me.” 
As you sleepily ran your fingers through his damp hair, you were surprised when he broke his silence with a comment seemingly out of the blue. It was more of a mumble than anything else, but you’d grown accustomed to his muffled words over the course of your marriage. 
“You’re so beautiful,” he randomly complimented you.
“You know you don’t have to compliment me to get into my pants, right?” you asked with a hint of laughter in your tone.
“I’m not trying to,” he pecked your arm–the limb he had the easiest access to at the moment–as if he was trying to emphasize his point, though all it did was bring heat to your cheeks at the reminder of the way he’d pressed slow and meaningful kisses along your calves and inner thighs while the two of you were in the shower. “You just looked so good today, I couldn’t not comment.”
“I don’t look good every day?” you asked facetiously, trying to deflect from the warm and fuzzy feeling his compliments and affection were making you feel. 
“Of course you always look good,” he reassured you rather than playing along with your game of joking instead of addressing your feelings. “I just don’t tell you that enough.”
You weren’t even sure how you could respond to that. Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood to mince words tonight, but you couldn’t bear to match his genuinity with cheap jokes. The only real, genuine thought to pop into your head were three ridiculous words that you immediately batted away. You couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing than randomly declaring your love to a husband who wasn’t really your husband in a marriage that wasn’t really a marriage. 
Out of ideas, you hit the lamp on your side of the bed. “I appreciate it. Goodnight.”
“Night,” he parroted back to you, remaining snug against your chest, despite the fact that your hands had stopped threading through his hair. 
Deep down, you knew that those three words had been on the tip of Patrick’s tongue, too.    
——
Being in the social circles of filthily rich people meant you often found yourself at random charity events, hosted by the nonprofits of families and business owners looking for a particularly large tax break for the year. Over the years, you’d felt that you’d seen and participated in it all: marathons raising awareness for a serious, but extremely rare disease, date auctions to raise money for a cause that certainly didn’t justify you having to go on a date with a man almost forty years your senior, or galas for nearly-extinct sea creatures that were essentially used as an excuse to stand around and network while drinking expensive alcohol and eating hor d'oeuvres.
You seemed to find yourself at a lot of events like the latter, including the one you were standing at now. The gala, which took place in the art exhibit it was raising money for, was a rather standard one, filled with the typical suspects who regularly attended those events. 
It was slightly ironic to be at the event with Patrick as your plus one, as this was the exact type of event he would’ve texted you about an hour before it began to ask if you would play his concerned partner for the night who told everyone a flimsy excuse about him being under the weather. 
It also served as somewhat of a reminder to you of the massive growth that your friend had undergone since the two of you became legally bound to one another. It finally felt like Patrick saw you as a true friend, instead of a reliable person who would do his dirty work. It finally felt like he cared. In some ways, your marriage was the best thing to happen to your friendship. 
Patrick returned to where you were standing, this time with two flutes of champagne and a delicious looking appetizer in his hand. 
“You’re too kind,” you said as he passed you your drink. 
“Anything for my wife,” he mockingly bowed in front of you and you chuckled and shook your head. Over the past year, the two of you slowly became slightly more comfortable with referencing each other as husband and wife, but only really as a joke. You guessed that in a lot of ways, that’s what your marriage was—a ridiculous inside joke.  
He was just about to feed you a hor d'oeuvre when you were approached by a wildly unwelcome figure: the man who had purchased a date with you a few years ago. Despite your one very awkward, stilted date, he never really seemed to get over you–which he made a point to prove at every event you both happened to be at. And unfortunately for you, his generous donations landed him on the guest list for the majority of these events. 
You were used to fighting him off on your own, as he seemed to come and flirt with you regardless of how inappropriate it was for the setting of the event, or even when he already had a beautiful young bombshell hanging on his arm. At this point, you’d learned to just tune his every word out and flee as soon as you possibly could. He was annoying, but he wasn’t dangerous.  
“Hey, honey,” he greeted you way too comfortably. You’d given up on asking him to call you by your name a very long time ago. 
“Hi, John,” you reached out to shake his hand and cringed internally when he kissed the back of your hand. 
“Oh honey, who is this?” Patrick immediately lept in, surprising you with his unsubtle passive aggressive tone and ridiculous use of a pet name. 
“You don’t remember me? I swear, we’ve met a few times.” John asked, trying to smile despite clearly being agitated by the presence of competition.
“Some people are more forgettable than others,” he said with a shrug. “How do you know my wife?” He emphasized the word and you pushed down the small inkling of pride you were feeling. Whether it was from watching Patrick try to scare this annoying man away from you, or being so proudly referred to as his wife, you couldn’t be sure.  
“Finally settling down, eh?” he directed at you, then directed his next statement to Patrick. “We went on a date back in the day.”
“It was for that one date auction thing,” you quickly added context, but paused when you took in John’s less than pleased look. He was a large donor at your own family’s nonprofit, and you were sure that your parents wouldn’t be too pleased with you if they found out he pulled out over you hurting his feelings. “We had a lot of fun, though.”
“We definitely did,” he chuckled and smirked. You wanted to punch him in the mouth. “We should definitely do it again sometime.”
It was clear that Patrick was not taking kindly to seeing you be flirted with so brazenly in front of him. Part of you wondered why he would be possessive, since part of your initial deal was that you could see whoever you wanted, even if that happened to be a creepy old man with a lot of money. The other part of you was enjoying seeing him so fired up. Particularly, seeing him fired up over you. 
“Our schedule is just so busy. Between work and us trying to start a family, I just don’t know when we’ll have time to see you again.”
Trying to start a family? That was definitely news to you. Although, the idea didn’t sound awful. Wasn’t it everyone’s dream to start a family with their closest, most dear friend? 
“Well, she knows where to find me, right, honey?”
“Mhm,” you mumbled, looking into your glass like it was the most interesting thing in the world. 
“Now if you don’t mind, my wife and I are going to go check out the exhibit,” Patrick announced, grabbing your hand and taking a step away from John. 
“You two have fun,” he said before clapping Patrick’s shoulder and leaning in to begin a stage whisper. “Make sure you treat her right and cherish her. If you don’t, I might have to swoop in and do so myself.”
He winked at you and you bit back a gag. 
“Don't you worry your wrinkly little head. Nobody lov- cherishes her more than I do,” he theatrically patted his back much like he’d initially done to him. “See you around.”
Did he almost say what you think he almost said? Surely you misheard him, or he was just playing up your relationship to scare away that creepy man. It really wasn’t anything to think twice about. 
Once the two of you had walked away far enough to be out of earshot, you finally addressed what had just happened. “Thank you, bodyguard. You don’t even know how much I despise that man.”
“He seems like he’s the worst,” he agreed with you, looking back over his shoulder. 
“That’s because he is,” you emphasized. “This is so random, but did you mean what you said earlier?”
Patrick suddenly paused, his face going pale like he’d just seen a ghost. You were a little confused by this reaction, as he’d said nothing to warrant that level of fear. 
“Do you actually want to start a family? Obviously not now, while you’re still playing tennis, but maybe eventually? I know we don’t have the most traditional marriage, but, I don’t know. Neither of us are getting any younger, and it might be fun to co-parent with my best friend,” you were clearly rambling now, but luckily, Patrick came in to rescue you for the second time that night. He looked far less aghast now. 
“I would love that,” he said to you with a genuine smile. You matched his with one of your own. 
———
“Do you have any big plans for retirement?” a reporter asked for the final question of the press conference. 
“Mostly just eating a lot of burgers. And maybe learning how to play pickleball,” Patrick responded, never one to give a serious answer to questions that weren’t explicitly about tennis. 
It was a ridiculous note to end on, but it felt right. You’d found that to be the case with most things in your life that pertained to him–most notably your marriage, which ended up being far more than you ever expected it to be.
After the press conference had come to a close, Patrick met you outside by the car, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, then leaning down to peck your baby bump. 
“How does it feel to be retired?” you asked, ruffling his hair while he was still bending down.
“It feels like you might divorce me,” he joked. Obviously your marriage deal was only meant to cover the time that he was still playing tennis, but after years of a complicated marriage that suddenly became significantly less complicated once you finally confronted the fact that the two of you very obviously loved each other, it seemed unlikely that your union would end any time soon. 
You glanced down at your baby bump, then back up to him skeptically.  “I hope you’re not being serious.”
“Come on, I never know with you. You’re the one who friendzoned me the entire first year of our marriage!” he exclaimed.
“That was a lifetime ago,” you countered before taking his hands in yours. “If you’re really worried, I have zero intentions of ending our marriage.”
“That’s all I wanted to hear,” he grinned, stepping away from you. “Let’s get going. I don’t want us to miss our reservation.”
You nodded and obliged, passing him the keys before heading to the passenger side of the car.
Once you sat down, you were overcome with the urge to say something. You had spent so much time bottling up and pressing down your own feelings, that it was now hard to resist letting things out when they came to you. 
“I’m so proud of you,” you blurted. “And I love you. So much.”
Patrick smiled at you genuinely, before his look turned into a slightly more devious one. “I love you so much, too. One might even say I love you more.” 
“Don’t even start with that,” you laughed, not in the mood to have the kind of back and forth with him that you had at least once a week. Considering that you were carrying his child, you were pretty sure that you were the winner of the love competition.  
“Fine. We love each other equally,” he conceded.
“That’s more like it.”
You tried to think back to one specific moment where your marriage had crossed over from being one of convenience, into a union with genuine feelings attached, and realized that you weren’t exactly sure. It could’ve been the first night you spent together, when you’d finally allowed yourself to consider what your relationship might look like beyond a simple friendship, or maybe it was even earlier than that, when you gazed into Patrick’s eyes as you read off your vows. The look of pure adoration he gave you was one that you had grown familiar with throughout the course of your marriage, but you hadn’t realized at the time just how genuine he had been. Or maybe even the moment Patrick asked you in the living room of your apartment, when you’d been the first person he thought of to carry out his ridiculous scheme, and you’d said yes despite every logical part of your brain that screamed at you to say no. 
Whenever it began didn’t particularly matter. What mattered now was that the two of you fully intended to spend the rest of your lives together. 
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phas3d · 11 months ago
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Crushing on You || Slytherin Boys
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type :: fluff
tw/cw :: none
contains :: draco malfoy, tom riddle, mattheo riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire
summary :: cute little loser things they do because they’re so down bad for you. inspired by the fucking masterpiece that is ONE DAY ONE NIGHTTTT AHHHHHH by bts ofc. some of these might be creepy but I think they’re cute
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DRACO MALFOY
It’s always an enemies to lovers for him, he literally cannot get crushes on someone unless he hates their guts
Probably cause he got daddy issue but meh, we’re not solving that today
He HATED your guts, he has literally thought of getting a hit-man on you before
You’re his rival in every single aspect, even more than Harry is
Academics, you’re better
Athletics, you’re better
Clubs and community, you’re WAY better
He hates you and makes fun of you every single day and time he gets the chance
Even worse, Harry, Hermione, and Ron all come to defend you which makes him even more mad
But overtime, his aggressive staring and cursing under his breath turned into admiration
It all started when one day during Quidditch practice, some annoying 3rd year thought it would funny to mess with Draco’s broom
He ended up malfunctioning during practice, almost speeding into the walls of the school at astounding speeds
But luckily, you came just in time and yanked him off his broom, letting his broon get destroyed into the castle. But he was unharmed and was wrapped securely in your arms
From then on, he’s had a huge crush on you and all of his hatred turned into admiration
His aggressive stares were a bit softer and his insults had a hidden compliment in it
Everyone thinks that maybe he just feels bad and is finally regretting how rude he’s been to you, which is kinda true
He’s always watching over you, kinda like a stalker (because he is one)
He learns your daily routine, your favorite foods, clothing brands, makeup products, skincare routine, everything
Goes as far to hire and pay different students to watch after you if he’s busy
Somehow, you never notice and just think that people are nosy
He takes his research really far though, like straight up creepy
Draco gets his hands on all of your medical history, every single thing about you
He learns what your allergic too, what your rising sign is, how much you weigh at every check up
When he finds out that you’re anemic, he crushes up pills and sneakily adds it to your food to make sure you’re healthy
Does this with other things too, like Vitamin C, iron pills, etc etc etc
But in the end, it helps you a lot and makes you feel much better
And it makes him happy to know that you’re better because of him
One day, you get asked out by none other than Harry Potter
Instantly, Draco is enraged and everything in his sight is going to die a painful death
He feels betrayed by you despite treating you like utter shit for so many years
Not the mention he’s also gotten with maybe two or three other girls
He plans to ruin your date and he succeed
He burns Harry’s outfit, posses someone to spill hot tea on you, and even goes as far to sneak food you’re allergic to into your food
The date ends with you crying back to your dorm and Harry beating himself up
From this, Draco is happy and prepares to come and play knight-in-shining armor for you
But once again, he sees Harry comforting you and giving you a tight hug
Draco is literally about to kill Harry for this, cause ain’t no way he just did ALL of that for Harry to swoop in again
“You can’t take her! I loved her first! I love her more than your stupid four-eyed could ever!” He shouts at Harry
So yeah…. He just confessed out of rage
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TOM RIDDLE
Never ever EVER will he get caught lacking for someone
This man keeps all of his lovey dovey feelings to himself, bro literally got a diary 😭
But when he saw you, and just like all of those dumb movies he’s seen, he was instantly love struck by you
He never knew that this was possible, he’s instantly disgusted with himself and does his best to the diminish the crush
But it won’t go away… you’re just perfect in every way
He’s so frustrated that he genuinely thinks of just killing you
But, thank GOD, he decides to not kill you and just become a stalker 😊
He finds out your entire schedule and walking path just so he can get small glimpses of you
Whenever you see him or make eye contact with him, he looks at you like you killed his entire family and he’s coming for revenge
But he’s actually drooling and hearing the most beautiful classical piano in the background
He sees you as a god/goddess that blessed him with your presence
Tom has always seen himself as the chosen one, the one given enough power to destroy and fix the world
And he sees you as his future Queen to the brand new world he will make :) kinda romanticccc
Finds all of your social media and stalks it for hours
He makes one of those fake burner accounts that looks like a bot
So when he follows you, you think nothing of it
But in reality, he’s watching you in depth
Bro finds your SPOTIFY and YOUR AO3 ACCOUNT… That’s how crazy he is
He made an entire playlist of every song you’ve ever posted and mentioned
He listens to it daily :)
Honestly, he’s just like me fr
He’s just a lil crazy and wants to know EVERYTHING about you
If you ever come up to him or are assigned partners, oh my god he’s gonna act so cold
Acts like he hates your guts and despises your existence
But in reality, he’s gonna thank every single religious figure out there for blessing him with allowing him to be in your space
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MATTHEO RIDDLE
When he first saw you, he thought you were fine as hell
He was just trying to get into your pants
But when he tried to make a move, you scoffed and shoved him away
Instantly, he was attracted to you
He’s only been rejected like twice, and both times it ended with them begging on their knees for him
He was about to do the exact same thing to you
Unlike the others, he’s the only one that shows it and actively makes a move
Constantly flirts with you, no matter the time or day
Kinda like Filipino courtingggg 🤭
Finds all of your classes and walks you to all of them
Even though you want to walk with your friends, he won’t let you and always pulls you away from them
He skips his classes constantly just so he can be with you and flirt with you more
Even if you keep rejecting him or even slap him, he won’t stop. He loves when girls play hard to get
Sends you flowers, they’re a little bit ugly, but it’s the thought that counts
Sends you chocolates and stuffed animals to the point where a whole section of your dorm is dedicated to the pile of 65 stuffed animals you’ve received
He can’t really write poems or love songs, but he sends you little drawings that are barely readable
He makes little stick figures to represent you guys, one that’s super tall with abs (him) and another one that has hair and a triangle body (you)
Although you can barely understand his chicken scratch drawings, it makes you giggle from how stupid they are
Sometimes it’s him fighting off dragons, or you drowning and he saves you, or him being a rich king and you’re his queen
Never ever gives up on you, no matter what
Will fight off every single competition he has, he doesn’t care if they end up paralyzed
One time, someone older than you guys by one year tried to ask you out
Because he was a grade above you guys, he thought Mattheo wouldn’t fight him
But nopppeeee he was dead wrong, Mattheo sent him to the hospital wing repeatedly for a whole month
Even though the poor guy learned his lesson, Mattheo was mad that not only did he have the balls to ask you out but to also doubt Mattheo’s strength
Surprisingly, he cares a lot towards your friends as well and never leaves him out of the picture which is sweet
If you get a 100 roses from him (an almost daily occurrence), then he’ll get your best friends a small bouquet of 10-12 roses in return
If you get a huge chocolate box of the most expensive chocolates, then your friends get a small little wrapped box of a few chocolates
It’s really sweet and it makes your friends see that he’s actually pretty cool and sweet
Definitely goes around and lies to people by saying you two are dating
Eventually, everyone is fucking tired of you guys and basically sees you as a couple
One day, your friends say they’re gonna have a girls day and ask you to meet them at this nice restaurant
But surprise! The girls lied, you got all dressed up for nothing :(
But surprise again! Mattheo pops up. Your friends set you up with him to help you two to finally start dating
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THEODORE NOTT
He’s had plenty of one night stands, weird situation-ships, and more but with you, he’s never had that
You’ve been his friend for ages, before he got hot and ripped
And he appreciated you a lot for that, he felt like he could finally be himself with someone
Over the years, he’s slowly gotten more and more comfortable with you
When he was going to bed, he thought to himself “I wouldn’t mind marrying (y/n)”
He smiled as he said that, about to sleep until his eyes shot wide open as he repeated what he said
“I wouldn’t mind marrying (y/n)??!???!!?”
When he realized he likes you, he’s a complete idiot
Normally with girls, he’s super smooth and charismatic - but that’s only because he’s trying to get into their pants
With you, you knew all his tactics and how awful of a person he can and HAS been over the years
You’ve seen him cheat, yell, and sometimes be borderline abusive to his past girlfriends
He starts to worry about how you perceive him and wants to make sure he seems like a good option
He becomes so awkward around you, it’s painful
Starts to be way nicer to you than he ever has been and becomes a lot more chivalrous
He takes off his jacket and shields you from rain, if anyone teases you he’ll get really defensive, he spoon feeds you at times, always pays for your lunch and dinner
Even goes as far as to take you on shopping sprees with no limit - even if you say no he’ll just keep track of everything you look at and buy it for you
Gets you flowers every week and always excuses it as “this is what best friends always do”
You two are basically dating… just without an official title
He’s TERRIFIEDDDD to ask, he’s literally had break downs over his fear of you rejecting him
Please just confess to him yourself, I’m not sure when he’ll get the balls and confidence to do it
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LORENZO BERKSHIRE
He’s the most sane out of all of them all 😭
Literally the one line from Taylor Swift, “in a world of boys he’s a gentleman” AHAAAAHHHHH
He gets a crush on you after you two are partnered for a long term project
Loves how smart and dedicated you are, it inspires him to be the same way
Sometimes he purposely acts dumb just so that you’ll help him
Always pays attention to the small details and everything you do
Spoils you ROTTEN omg
Will take you out to go shopping with him and he whips out his black card and casually drops 25k just on clothes and makeup for you
He loves the feeling of spoiling you, makes him feel like your future husband
Praises you for everything, even the bare minimum
“Woah! I like your outfit!” And you’re literally wearing the required school uniform
He wants to date you and call you his own, but he knows he’s a fuck boy deep down
Every time he’s dated a girl, he’s ended up breaking up with them because he can’t commit or just straight up cheating on them
He’s very confident that he could change and be better, but he wants to be perfect before he dares you
Because he sees you as perfect :”) and you only deserve the best
You help motivate him to become better, even though you didn’t know you did
Starts going to the gym, works harder in school, tries to be more nice to everyone
Eventually, he’ll get the guts to ask you out for the Yule ball but he’ll keep saying you’re going as “friends”
But one day you’ll overhear him and his group talking about how fat of a crush he has on you
They all tease him and call him a simp, loverboy, everything
But when he sees that you’ve been listening the entire time, he’s so reddddd
Tries to hide his face and runs away, he avoids you for a little bit
He’s so so so scared of not being good enough or even ruining his relationship with you
He’d genuinely be okay with just being your best friend for all his life whilst loving you, even though it would hurt him so badly
Please just accept this boy 🙏 tell this man he’s enough and that you love him
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read more here! :D
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primofate · 11 months ago
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3 am brainrot
Soulmate, but Genshin Impact Style
Warning: angst (lots of potential to be fluff and comfort ending tho)
Vision "resonates" with each other and a thin red line connects your vision to their vision
Thin red line disappears, frays, or splits off when something is wrong with the connection or the other person
You can use their element and they can use yours. If you are the same element it provides an elemental increase.
Element exchange also stops or weakens when there's something wrong with the connection or the other person
There's a kind of "sixth sense" activated wherein you can kind of feel each other's psyche
Imagining what it would be like for power hungry Scaramouche to find out he has access to another element. Meets a complete stranger and suddenly he's stronger. Starts to keep you close only for that reason, doesn't care much about your well being in general. Then finding out that he can STILL use your element even if the two of you are far apart. You part ways rather abruptly, and he's not sure how long it had been when the red line starts to fray and his access to your element starts to dwindle. He doesn't think much of it, but day by day it gets weaker and day by day the red line disappears a little more. A sudden sense of "If that line disappears I won't ever be able to follow it back to y/n" so he starts following it. He doesn't really notice there's a sense of urgency in him, he tells himself its only because he wants the power back, but when he rouses from a short rest to find that the red line is gone... why does it suddenly feel like he's all alone again?
Imagining characters like Xiao, Cyno and Alhaitham who completely rejects using your element. They don't need yours. They are just fine and all is well using only their own. In a sense they take pride in what they have, and doesn't really care for what power you can give. They aren't interested in maintaining a relationship with a stranger either, because, what for? However, you're slightly persistent in at least getting to know a little about them. Just a tiny bit. But that tiny bit is enough to push them to tell you he's not interested in any kind of chit chat, that he's busy and needs to focus on other things. So you turn away. Out of curiosity one day he tries to use your element. It strangely gives him the feeling of warmth. Like someone's protecting and watching over them (and for someone who always does the protecting, this is a big deal). One day, the line breaks off, there's a clear split and he wonders if all is well. He follows the line back to you, and finds out that you've been spending a good amount of time with someone else. Someone who you smile at very brightly, and someone who is interested in getting to know you. What's he to do? This was his doing. So why does he feel like coming over and snatching you away?
Imagining characters like Diluc, Neuvillette and Wriothesley, astounded but somewhat pleasantly surprised by the discovery. He neither rejects you nor accepts you, but feels a sense of responsibility over you just because of the connection made. But because they have their own things to be busy with, they don't exactly actively seek you out or have the time to check in frequently. Perhaps it's a monthly thing, following the line and looking for you. There's a relationship that looks like the beginnings of friendship. A little awkward, asking questions and fumbling for more questions to ask. Still, something builds, and just when the ice is about to break between the two of you, he follows the line...and somehow ends up out in the wild. Your vision is buried next to a tree, for a moment he's struck with panic that he would find your body buried, but judging from how the red line was still intact, you were most likely safe somewhere... however, he would never see you anymore, nor know the reason why you decided to hide. All of a sudden he wished that he had more time. He doesn't know whether this situation was comforting or concerning. He has you in the palm of his hand, but never close enough to fill the empty gap.
Imagining characters like Zhongli, Dainsleif and Tartaglia, who, despite their appearances is instantly intrigued by the connection. They don't need the additional power, but they keep the connection anyway because they partly feel that destiny is something you can't change. The closeness between you two easily grows and here is when you first approach him with a favor.
"Can you help me with something?"
"Of course. Would tomorrow be a good time?"
There's a bit of a pause on your side. "Tomorrow..." and its as if you look up at him with more sparkle in your eyes than usual. "...Yeah. That'll work. Thank you," the way you say thank you is so sincere and loving it almost brings him to a joy he hadn't felt in a long time.
He woke the next day. The connecting red line was nowhere to be found.
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isaadore · 14 days ago
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EVERYTHING YOU'VE WANTED NICO HISCHIER
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pairing nico hischier x reader
SUMMARY you and nico have been close for years, but when his christmas plans begin to spiral out of control, you can't help but wonder if he's missing what's most important right in front of him. word count 1.8k
warnings pure fluff
note my first fic for "a nonsense christmas" event <3 requested by anon 🤍
MAIN MASTERLIST NH13 MASTERLIST EVENT MASTERLIST
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YOU'D THINK YOU'D be used to Nico’s holiday over-preparation by now, but each year, he somehow manages to one-up himself. This year, you’re sitting across from him in a cozy, bustling café, watching as snowflakes drift lazily through frosted windows. Nico’s leaning over a notepad filled with scribbled lists of gifts, decorations, and plans for get-togethers, his brow furrowed in the same concentration he usually reserves for games.
You lean in, trying to catch a glimpse of his list. “Is all that really necessary?” you ask, half-amused, half-astounded.
He looks up, a hint of a determined smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I want this Christmas to be special,” he says. It’s a line you’ve heard from him every year, and yet, each time, there’s a part of you that wonders if he means something more.
You smile, watching him go all out for everyone he cares about. Nico has always been the type to give so deeply that he sometimes overdoes it. Being his best friend, you get to see the side of him that no one else does: the quiet moments when he lets go of those expectations he piles onto himself, the way he seeks out solitude after a long day to recharge. You’re not sure when, but over the years, the admiration you felt for his big heart turned into something deeper, something harder to ignore.
“You don’t have to work so hard to make things special, you know?” you say, softening your voice. “People just want to be around you.”
He glances down, smirking as he takes in your words. “Easy for you to say,” he counters, his voice playful but with a touch of sincerity. “I’m not great at just… being there and doing nothing.”
You shake your head, smiling at his stubbornness. “You don’t need to do anything. You’re already enough just as you are.”
His cheeks flush slightly, and he looks back down at his list, but not before you catch the soft smile tugging at his lips. Your heart races a little, but you try to brush it off, focusing on the chatter of people around you and the smell of peppermint drifting in the air.
Nico breaks the silence. “So, what’s the plan?” he asks, tapping his pen against the list.
“Apparently, you have it all covered,” you tease, but inside, a part of you wonders if this year might be different. If there might finally be room for the feelings you’ve kept hidden for so long. “But maybe ease up on the holiday party planning? You know, just enjoy being around people.”
He smirks again, shifting in his seat, and you swear there’s a hint of something in his gaze when he looks back up. “What about you? Don’t you want something a little extra?”
The question is innocent enough, but it catches you off guard. “Me? I guess… I just want things to feel real. Not forced,” you reply honestly. It’s not the full truth, but close enough. Nico knows you well enough to read between the lines, but if he senses the unspoken feelings, he doesn’t let on.
“You always make things sound so simple,” he says, his voice quieter. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m just making it all too complicated.”
You sip your coffee, choosing your next words carefully. “Sometimes. But it’s okay to let things happen on their own.”
He chuckles, running a hand through his hair, clearly a bit self-conscious. “Not exactly my strong suit,” he admits. “Guess that’s why I’m always making lists.”
As the afternoon wears on, the café around you fills with laughter and cheerful chatter, and yet, every now and then, Nico glances up, his gaze lingering on you just a beat too long. It’s these moments that stay with you, the feeling that he’s close but still somehow just out of reach. You’ve been friends forever, childhood best friends with enough shared history to write novels, and yet… here you are, still feeling the thrill of every accidental brush of his hand.
When it’s time to leave, you pull on your coat and wrap your scarf around your neck, bracing yourself for the chilly walk home. Just as you’re about to say goodbye, Nico pauses, glancing back over his shoulder like he’s been holding something back.
“Hey, I’ve got the tree up at home, but it’s still bare,” he says, almost shyly. “Think you could help me decorate it?”
You try to hide your excitement and nod casually. “Of course. Can’t let you take on all the work alone.”
His place is quiet and warm when you get there, the faint scent of pine filling the room. Boxes of ornaments are scattered around, each one holding memories from past Christmases. You pull out a few decorations, laughing as you remember the year he bought a massive Santa figurine and insisted on displaying it proudly, despite your protests that it was overkill.
He chuckles, his eyes softening as he watches you. “Guess I have a habit of going overboard.”
“Maybe just a little,” you reply, nudging him gently.
At one point, Nico pulls out a small, handmade ornament, a little snowflake you recognize immediately. You gave it to him when you were kids, and you’d nearly forgotten about it. A little embarrassed, you watch as he hangs it carefully, a fond smile on his face.
“Didn’t know you still had that,” you murmur.
“Of course. It’s always been one of my favourites,” he replies, his voice sincere.
You fall into a comfortable rhythm, working together in that easy way you always have. You lose track of time, your arms brushing now and then as you reach for ornaments or adjust the lights, each accidental touch leaving you a bit breathless. Eventually, you step back to admire your work, the tree aglow with soft lights casting a warm ambiance.
“Thanks for staying to help,” he says, his voice soft, gaze lingering on you. “I don’t know why, but this year feels… different.”
You nod, feeling a subtle shift in the air between you. “Maybe because it’s just us. It feels more… real somehow.”
He hesitates like he’s weighing his words. “Maybe that’s all I needed, just to be with the people who matter most.” His words hang in the air, full of unspoken meaning. You wonder if he realizes what he’s implying, but before you can respond, he lets out a soft laugh, as if trying to shake off the tension. “But don’t tell the team I said that.”
Your heart flutters, and you smile, the tension fading but still there, humming beneath the surface. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
He meets your gaze, and for a moment, everything else fades: the tree, the lights, the ornaments scattered around. It’s just him and you, standing close in the quiet. Nico shifts, looking away as if gathering his thoughts. “You know… for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here.”
You nod, feeling the weight of the moment. “Me too.”
You both stand there, taking in the sight of the glowing tree, the lights casting soft shadows that dance across the room. The warmth in the air is almost tangible, settling between you in a way that feels heavy and electric. You glance over at Nico, finding him already looking at you with an expression that’s softer, and more vulnerable than you’ve seen before.
He takes a small step closer, his gaze never leaving yours, and for a second, you forget to breathe. His hand reaches up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers grazing your cheek gently. Your heart began to race. The touch lingers, warm and grounding, and you feel his thumb lightly trace along your jaw as if he’s memorizing every detail.
“Nico…” you whisper, his name catching on your breath, barely audible.
His gaze deepens, the soft determination you’ve come to know so well flickering in his eyes. “I don’t know why it took me this long,” he murmurs, voice low, almost as if he’s speaking more to himself than to you. “But I think… maybe you always knew.”
There’s a raw honesty in his voice that leaves you feeling exposed like he’s stripped away every wall you’ve put up. You nod, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “I think I did. But I was scared… scared of ruining what we have.”
He leans in closer, his eyes searching yours with a look that’s both questioning and certain like he’s seeking permission while already knowing the answer. His hand holds your cheek, his thumb brushing softly along your skin, and you feel your heart pounding. The world around you began fading into the background.
“Guess there’s only one way to find out,” he says, his voice barely a whisper, each word sending a thrill through you.
Then, slowly, almost as if testing the waters, he leans in and presses his lips to yours. The kiss is soft at first, a tentative brush, but the warmth and familiarity between you quickly deepen it. His hand slips around to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he melts into the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a gentle yet undeniable intensity.
You wrap your arms around him, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his sweater, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your touch. The kiss grows deeper, both of you giving in to the years of unspoken feelings and all the moments you held back. There’s a warmth that spreads through you, a feeling of home, and for the first time, you allow yourself to believe that this is real, that he wants this as much as you do.
When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he gazes down at you. His hand lingers on your cheek, his thumb brushing softly over your skin, and his eyes are filled with a warmth that makes you feel like the only person in the world.
He lets out a quiet, almost nervous laugh, glancing away briefly before looking back at you with a hint of that familiar shyness. “Guess I don’t need to plan so much anymore, huh?” he murmurs, his voice a mix of relief and happiness.
You smile, reaching up to rest your hand over his. “Maybe just one more plan, for us.”
He nods, his hand slipping down to entwine with yours, and you feel his thumb rubbing gently over your knuckles. The world outside is quiet, the glow of the tree casting a soft light around you. As you stand there together, you realize that this, right here with him, is exactly where you've always wanted to be on Christmas.
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‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎MAIN MASTERLIST ✷ EVENT MASTERLIST
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foofiked · 10 months ago
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By the rocks!
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pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite’s!daughter reader
summary: Luke knows that you sneak around at night to go to the lake, and he decides to play around by ‘coincidentally’ bumping into you, hoping to grab your attention.
warning/s: fluff, luke sortve dark, suggestive, a few (more than a few) kisses, lots of teasing, strong language, semi-public making out and shi, soft!reader, soft!luke, friends to lovers, implications of sex, sexual tension
authors note: please tell me people are still hung up on luke, cause i am holding onto him. endings quite abrupt so don’t attack me !! (btw reqs are open, don’t be shy<3)
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Rays of moonlight kissed the lake, ripples cascading onto the rocks, tall, bodies of grass surrounding your figure, and your hand limp in the water.
Evenings were always peaceful for you, no distractions, no loud, whiny voices, just a serene environment.
As the night passed you expected no interruptions - as always - but you heard leaves rustled behind you, your eyebrows narrowed with curiosity as you turned your head around.
Luke Castellan. Someone you were familiar with, dusting himself off. “Castellan?” Your tranquil voice asked as he neared you, “shouldn’t you be in your cabin?” You added with genuine confusion.
“Shouldn’t you?” He replied in a witty manner. You smiled at him, and he swore he saw an angel in your grin but it was just his amazing visualisation.
“Ptf, I’m always here, don’t worry about me” you said as you dropped your head back to the sight of the ocean, leaning one side of your face on your knee. “I should come here more often then” he shrugged, sitting down on a patch of soft grass.
“I wouldn’t mind that” you stated, your voice soft and soothing to his ears.
His cheeks reacted immediately, and he was astound by the fact that he was a mess around you but a well disciplined guy in front of others.
“Why are you here” he was here for you - duh - but he was also here to bring himself at ease, the stressful day that was brought upon him absolutely destroyed his mindset.
“Rough day, one of the fuckfaces— I mean ares kids nicked me” he sighed lightly before he noticed your eyes drop down to the scar on his forearm. Your nimble fingers ran across his stitches, “are you okay?” Concern present in your demeanour.
“Mhm” he hummed, staring at you longingly. “You sure? your stich is really…” You moved close absentmindedly, scrutinising his cut before looking up at him, realising the proximity between your faces.
You felt frozen, he felt frozen. None of you’s were speaking, he was only inching closer till his top lip grazed yours.
Finally, with lots of anticipation, you closed the gap, grabbing his cheek with your palm. He let his hands travel to your waist, squeezing it ever so softly.
“Luke…” your voice breathless as he gently pushed you down to the grass.
Your fingers left his face, going down to the hem of his shirt and under to get a feel of his toned abdomen. A quiet groan left his mouth as he reciprocated the action, going down to lift your camp shirt off. You helped him by pulling it over your head and reconnecting your lips.
Somehow you felt comfortable: relaxed under his presence, so you unclamped the two pieces of metal of your bra, slowly sliding it off. Luke was mesmerised, in-fact he was intoxicated.
“So beautiful” his breath fanning your neck, “soo, soo, beautiful” Luke trailed back up to your mouth before placing a hand on one of your breast. Your breathed hitched as you continued to indulged in his lips.
“Take this off” you ordered, stretching the hem of his shirt as he took it off. A smile poked at your lips when you finally saw him exposed, you explored his chest, your fingers going up and down over every bump. “Are you done?” Before you could even let out an answer he stuffed his mouth back to yours, making you laugh.
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devildomwriter · 16 days ago
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The Greatest Gift Of All | Mammon x Reader
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1.1K+ words | GN! Reader | Established Marital relationship | CW: none
Mammon was over the moon excited. More excited than he’d ever been before. That’s because this Christmas he got you all to himself. Or at least for the beginning of it, after that, it was off to his brothers’ place and then to the Demon Lord’s Castle.
But he ignored this fact in favor of continuing the day jovially.
He hummed happily as he fiddled with the tree ornaments and smiled to himself as he arranged the gifts he’d gotten you for the umpteenth time.
You mixed the cocoa powder into your drink as you listened to the crinkling of the wrapping paper and Mammon’s tiny grunts as he stretched to reach under the tree for the bows that fell off.
He clicked his tongue and looked at his work as you walked in with two mugs of hot chocolate.
His eyes lit up in delight and he ran over to you, quickly chugging the hot chocolate and setting it aside to hug you.
“Careful, the chocolate,” you squeaked and he laughed and blew into your neck, eliciting more squeals from you as he spun you around and set you down.
You immediately set the hot chocolate down and sighed in relief nothing had spilled. You were astounded how easily Mammon had chugged his down considering the amount of steam that’d come from it, but this was one thing that made it clear he was a demon. Another thing was his wings flapping, proof of his joy as he clung to your side.
“Mine, mine, mine,” he repeated giddily as he kissed your neck again and again.
He held your hand and traced his finger across the golden band on your finger.
This Christmas was extra special because it was your first holiday together as a married couple. Last Christmas Eve you had proposed to him. Today was the anniversary of that proposal and Mammon wanted it to be as special for you today as it had been for him back then.
He lead you to your couch covered in comfortable pillows and Christmas stuffies. He brought you a warm woven blanket as soon as you sat down and he jumped beneath it as soon as you were settled.
In front of you, the fire crackled and you rested your head against his shoulder, his face turned a dark red as if he weren’t used to this already. It was cute how every touch felt like the first time with him, tsunderes really were the best.
He handed you the tv remote and you turned the Christmas music off so you could hear the tv. You skipped through the channels and eventually tuned into a streaming service to find a Christmas movie Mammon hadn’t seen with you yet. He was always so happy to be introduced to a new one.
“What’s that one? What’s that one?” He asked, gripping your hand and pointing at the TV.
“Which one?”
“Go back, go back. No. Right there, yeah!”
“Scrooged?”
“Yeah, the guy with the bad haircut.”
“It’s like a retelling of the Christmas carol,” you giggled remembering what had happened when you’d gone with him and his brothers to see the play.
“Pfft. That was a great play. So what this is like a modern one or somethin?”
“Yeah. You know what this’ll be great for you,” you decided as a big focus of this movie was the downfall of greed.
Mammon’s greed didn’t decrease after marriage. He was more careful with money since he didn’t want to put you in a bad situation but the greed had faltered in him otherwise. If anything it was worse, at least when it came to you.
As the movie began Mammon laughed at the many despicable things the main character got into like shoving an old woman out of a taxi. The insufferability of the character was laughable but Mammon was very invested and somewhat worried he came across the same way.
You patted his head and made sure he knew his greed wasn’t on this level—somehow—as the avatar of greed…
The movie credits rolled, jovial music resounding in the modest home you shared and Mammon damn near had tears in his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“That was great…” he said and you snuggled into his side.
Mammon checked the clock, it was only ten. Normally a night like this should be spent partying, most of his brothers were, but they allowed him a rain check so they wouldn’t have to see him kissing you all night.
“Man, I’m not tired at all, let’s watch another movie,” he suggested and you nodded and asked him to grab you some sugar cookies you’d hidden in a jar.
He was munching on one of them when he brought you the entire jar and you playfully rolled your eyes as he snuggled back in for another movie.
After watching the Polar Express which he got weirdly excited for, he checked the clock again and his grin grew half the size of his face.
He turned to you bouncing in excitement and you cocked your head in curiosity, knowing he was up to something.
He chuckled somewhat evilly and dove under the Christmas tree like an excited cat. You snorted and took a secret shot of it before quickly hiding your phone away.
“It’s time!” He declared, lifting a box in the air with a big red bow.
“Oh?” You laughed and he nodded firmly.
“Last year, at this time, you made me the happiest demon in the three worlds! In our vows, I made you the promise I’d always do the same, and I meant it!” He declared and got on one knee in front of you.
“Open it, open it,” he ecstatically urged and you giggled and tore off the paper, heart beating quickly.
You gasped in delight and opened the small velvet boxes.
Matching diamond studded rings. You couldn’t fathom the price of these and looked wide-eyed at Mammon who gave you a triumphant smirk.
“How? How did you-“ you stuttered.
“I saved up! All the way from last Christmas when I tried gettin’ ya the ring first. These are limited edition Devicci rings specifically for couples! Not even Mephistopheles or Diavolo has one of these babies!” He boasted and you set them aside to hug him.
He began blushing profusely and hugged you back with even more force.
“Ya like ‘em?” He asked and you nodded.
“I love them. Because they’re from you,” you responded and he smiled to himself and separated from the hug to look you in the eyes.
“I feel the same way,” he started. “I’ll love anything, as long as it’s from you!”
You sighed in contentment and hugged him again, “You’re the greatest Christmas gift of all my sweet husband.”
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woewriting · 8 months ago
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impure
pairing: cairo sweet | reader summary: even the most honest, kind-hearted can be corrupted by evil — especially if it has brown eyes, freckles and a breathtaking smile. word count: 1180 warnings: mdni, +18 only! implied sex, very brief smut at the end, blasphemy (?), nonlinear narrative. every line in italic is a quote by frederick nietzsche. 
this one is for you, @wesstars | masterlist
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As Nietzsche once said: “if you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you.” 
That's how it felt to stare into your eyes for Cairo — she could see all your demons, fighting the urge to escape from the depths of your mind and release their chaos into the unknown world. It was fascinating, daring even, to unveil each creature that gazed back at her when your eyes met for a hot second in the middle of the crowded classroom. And when you quoted the first sentence of said quote, with dark eyes craved on hers, a grin drew on her lips.
“He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster.” Your voice was low, matching the sound of your high heels stomping on the wooden tiles, following a pace that, somehow, was synchronized with the beat of your heart. 
Everything about you seemed well-placed, from the glasses that always slipped to the tip of your nose, forcing you to push the dark frame up every five minutes, to the white blouse that never carried a single wrinkle in the soft fabric; Cairo wanted to run her hands up and down your biceps when you brushed slightly against her as you returned to the front of the class. Even the chalk writing on the board behind you was perfect, rounded, and easy to understand. 
Hell! It didn't even look like you had troubles in your life, almost as if you were friends with all the demons screaming inside your head. 
There was only one that threatened to take over your muscles and move your body by itself, making you walk to the young writer that always sat at the first row, paying attention to every single movement of your body with curious eyes, staring at the window of your soul. The alluring brownish of her long hair created a delicate aura around her as the noon sun cracked through the big windows.
She was angelical, with freckles sprinkled all over her skin like the stars painted by Van Gogh, a dimple that came followed by an astounding smile. Yet, she was the devil. Forcing you to sin as you dropped to your knees to adore her; it was forceful, corrupt, making you ache as your mouth ran up and down her tasty body, thirsty, desperate. 
Cairo Sweet felt like heaven, but had a soul that was grabbed from hell and thrown into the body of a girl that craved the world, to be known, to take everything she could from everyone she touched. 
And you weren't different. At first, her greediness was subtle, well hidden under the facade of a lovely girl. You thought she was a “teacher's pet” — as your professor told you in one of his “preparation class” before you replaced him for the month as a graduation test, but the young writer was more than that, she was eager to please you, be it with her aggressive writing or with fingers deep inside you. 
Sometimes it felt like she was the test, and you would only succeed if you survive the storm that was Cairo Sweet.
When you fell on her bed for the first time, it felt like Lucifer descending from heaven, and Cairo was your personal hell. She smoldered against your fingertips, with gray smoke leaving her mouth at every word of euphoria, sliding her tongue against your lips with a carnal desire that consumed her more and more at every sob that left your mouth. 
The second time was excruciating. It melted your skin in a way that made you feel like it was written on your forehead all of your dirtiest sins, with the same perfection of your calligraphy and in every language so that all eyes on you were because of that. 
Cairo was charming, with her knowledge and way with words, leaving you in awe every time she asked your opinion or answered one of your questions, effortlessly expressing her vision of the world — there's not a single poet, writer, or philosopher that's not been read by her brilliant mind. 
Her favorite at the moment was Friedrich Nietzsche. For her, his view of the world was admiring, appalling. It's like he knew about the demons everyone constantly fought against, burying them deeper inside our core to prevent them from leashing them out in the open. 
Little did you know, it was because of you. Because of the way your eyes lit up at the mention of his name. 
While Cairo was a demon with an angel-like face, you were the opposite; with your dark clothes fitting perfectly on your curves and rough voice that always dropped one octave when you whispered her name like a prayer every morning for the past month. When you smiled, she could see the gentleness dripping like water from you, the patient you had with the students had her dumbstruck, looking at you with her chin resting on her hands, the cloth of her blouse itching her skin when you leaned forward to help a stupid classmate that only wanted to smell your perfume, leaning closer to your body as you calmly explained the most obvious subject, and that stupid smile on your face made it even harder for her to not clench her jaw over and over until you returned to your desk to finish today's reading. 
When you fell the third time, it left a stain that wouldn't disappear from the cotton sheets — the white wings of a fallen angel, burned in black soot, fully corrupted and taken. This time it was brutal, lewd, and enticing with a small portion of a euphoric hunger. She savored you on her tongue with a devilishly smile tugging the corner of her lips, crawling up your body like the scarabs that loved Cairo, following her like a deity. 
“Is man one of God’s blunders, or is God one of man’s blunders?” She asked, pressing her lips on your neck while her warm hands found your chest. 
“I cannot believe in a God who wants to be praised all the time.” Your answer came in between a catch of breath, eyes closed and head thrown back against the soft pillow, nails digging deeper into her back, bruising the skin with long, red lines that stung.
“If I was a God, would you praise me?” 
“I would adore you with every ruthlessly beautiful word known by mankind.” 
With your hands firm on her waist, you pushed her to the side, fitting yourself in between her legs. Taking a deep breath turned your eyes darker than they already were; what a bewitching view it was to have you worshiping her, with lips glistening and a firm hand on her lower abdomen as you traced the stretch marks on her inner thighs with the tip of your tongue before running it up and down her slit, trying to keep her body from smearing the soot of your wings as a remain of the innocence the devil stole from you in the most graceful way possible.
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minswriting · 1 month ago
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Do I Wanna Know? - Step-Brother Spencer Reid x Reader
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About: It’s not easy fucking for your nerdy and hot step-brother when feelings become involved.
Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, step-cest, step brother spencer, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, guilt, shame, unspoken pining, etc.
Word Count: 1702
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“Have you got color in your cheeks?
Do you ever get that fear that you can’t shift
The type that sticks around like summat in your teeth?
Are there some aces up your sleeve?
Have you no idea that you’re in so deep?
I dreamt about you nearly every night this week.”
Your mother married her husband a few months ago. At a time when they had only been together for a few months but they apparently just “knew” it was meant to be. Who were you to judge, really? If you know, you know. You were just glad that your mother was relatively happy. There was also that added bonus of having a very new step-brother.
Spencer Reid, a profiler for the BAU and now your step-brother, was this nerdy guy. He had an eidetic memory, dressed like a grandpa, and was extremely hot for no reason. The day you met him, you were overwhelmed by his attractiveness. And he was so awkward too, adding to the appeal. You don’t see him often strictly due to his work and the fact that he lives in D.C while you live in Las Vegas. But when he does, it’s as though you’re in heaven. And tomorrow, Spencer is flying out to visit.
“How many secrets can you keep?
‘Cause there’s this tune I found
That makes me think of you somehow
And I play it on repeat
Until I fall asleep
Spilling drinks on my settee.”
Spencer: I can’t wait to see you.
You: I can’t wait to have your face buried between my thighs.
Your phone buzzed with another text.
Spencer: That will be divine.
You couldn’t help the smirk that traveled on to your face. You remember the first time you ever initiated anything with Spencer. It was a month after the wedding. He had flown back to Las Vegas for a case he was working on and decided to stay at the house rather than in a hotel with his team members. You noticed the way he had looked at you whenever you guys saw one another. Like you were forbidden fruit. But he was always too awkward, too shy to say anything to you. You guys hardly spoke unless necessary.
That was until you cornered him one night after he had gotten back at three in the morning after his case had been concluded. You remember the words you had spoken to him. “I see the way you look at me,” You had said quietly but seductively. That night you had gotten on your knees and gave him the worlds best blow job imaginable. And ever since then, the two of you had a very secret thing going on.
Late night phone calls, sexy photos, videos of one another sent privately. The past few months had been absolutely blissful. The amount of orgasms that you had every week was astounding and you were absolutely never sick of it. Because you got to hear the hot and sexy sounds that Dr. Spencer Reid, your step-brother, make.
As the months had gone on, these late night phone calls would turn into more than just sex. Talks about your days, life, books you both had been reading, the shows you’ve been watching. What was supposed to be nothing more than physical was slowly becoming emotional. At least for you. These days you often wonder if Spencer felt a similar way. But that didn’t matter as much. You would never allow yourself to cross the emotional territory. Or at least you’d never actively admit it.
“(Do I wanna know?)
If this feeling flows both ways?
(Sad to see you go)
Was sorta hoping that you’d stay.
(Baby, we both know)
That the nights were mainly made
For saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day.”
The day Spencer had arrived, you spent the day teasing him. You wore a red dress that covered just enough to be considered appropriate. But if you bent over in the slightest, which you certainly did, you could see the sexy red lingerie set you wore underneath, Spencer’s absolute favorite on you. He hadn’t had the opportunity to see it in person until now. After your family dinner and your parents had gone to bed, you had dragged Spencer to the bedroom, not even bothering to take your time.
Maybe it’s the way his tongue moves around your cunt, lapping up your juices. Or the way Spencer sucks on your clit, doing whatever he can to bring you the most pleasure. All you know is that you have to try your damn hardest to keep quiet, to make sure neither your mother or his father wake up to hear what their children are up to. Spencer’s face is buried in your pussy, tonguing your hole while his nose runs against your clit. If hell were real, you definitely would be going with how much you enjoy fucking your step-brother. And it would be absolutely worth it if you get to live this lifetime underneath Spencer.
When you finish twice from his tongue, Spencer finally removes his face from your cunt. His face glimmering from your juices as he reaches his hands to undo his shirt. You were already naked, something Spencer had done as soon as you closed the door of the bedroom. As he took off his shirt, Spencer licked his lips, looking at you with a look that you couldn’t quite interpret.
You knew this was wrong. So ridiculously wrong. He was practically family, at least legally. He was supposed to be your brother, someone you can depend on. Well you certainly depend on Spencer for something. And it’s certainly not for anything family friendly either. You’ve tried calling it quits. Three weeks in, you tried leaving it be by not calling Spencer or texting him. You only lasted a day before you started craving him again.
“Crawling back to you
Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few?
‘Cause I always do.
Maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody new.
Now, I’ve thought it through
Crawling back to you.”
With you laying on your back while Spencer pounds into you like his life depended on it, you were absolutely trying so hard not to moan like the slut you know you are. You had a fist to your mouth while you looked at Spencer, who was leaned over you, arms on either side of your head, while his cock was thrusting in and out of your tight pussy.
“You’re so wet,” Spencer whispered shakily, looking at you in your eyes. “So tight. I could be buried inside you forever.”
You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips as you looked back up at Spencer. The look in his eye. the one you can’t quite put a name to, was still there. Lust? Guilt? Love? It couldn’t possibly be the last one.
“Have you got the guts?
Been wondering if your heart’s still open
And if so, I wanna know what time it shuts
Simmer down and pucker up
I’m so sorry to interrupt, it’s just I’m constantly on the cusp
Of trying to kiss you
I don’t know if you feel the same way as I do
But we could be together if you wanted to.”
His lips went to yours, kissing you like you were his last breath and he needed you to hold on for life. His cock plunging into you at a rapid pace. The room was filled with the rhythmic sound of skin slapping skin and the wet sounds of your pussy. Had your mother and his father been awake, they’d certainly question the noises going on.
“(Do I wanna know)
If this feeling flows both ways?
(Sad to see you go)
Was sorta hoping that you'd stay
(Baby, we both know)
That the nights were mainly made
For saying things that you can't say tomorrow day
Crawling back to you (crawling back to you)
Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? (You've had a few?)
'Cause I always do ('cause I always do)
Maybe I'm too (maybe I'm too busy)
Busy being yours (being yours)
To fall for somebody new
Now, I've thought it through
Crawling back to you”
You could feel the heat building in your abdomen as Spencer’s cock hit your g-spot repeatedly. “Oh fuck,” you whisper moaned, breaking off the kiss. “So close, Spence.”
“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he whispered back. “Cum for me like a good girl.” He continued his movements, fucking you to completion.
You let out a whine, trying hard to not be loud as your orgasm grew closer. Spencer reached down between the two of you, rubbing your clit. And you gasped loudly, bringing your hand back to your mouth as your walls tightened around Spencer’s cock. Within seconds you were cumming, hard, spilling your juices onto his cock and onto the mattress. Your back arched as you came, your toes curling from the best orgasm you’ve ever had.
Spencer followed you, cumming inside of you with ropes and ropes of his cum, filling you with not a single care in the world. Maybe it was a sick thought on his part. Maybe if he got you pregnant, he could finally claim you as his. Or maybe that was just your fantasy. You were on the pill, it was very unlikely.
Afterwards, it’s the cuddling. The soft words spoken about how beautiful you are and how good you did that make your heart flutter in your chest. The way Spencer looked at you with that same look. And in your heart you absolutely knew what that look was. Love. Adoration. Mesmerized by you. Your step-brother loved you. Just like you loved him.
But you’d never admit it out loud. Neither of you would. Because your circumstances wouldn’t allow for such a thing to happen.
So in the shadows you guys remain, caught in your own little bubble where it’s nothing more than sex. But the calls while he’s away become more frequent, more about missing one another and wanting to hear each other. Many words spoken and yet many remained unspoken. Just as it will remain.
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celestialtarot11 · 2 months ago
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astrology observations
Hi friends! Today we’re discussing power dynamics in relationships, so there is light mention of drug use, abuse, gaslighting and emotional abuse. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable! I kept it light as best as I could. Do leave feedback & comments to help! Id love to hear your thoughts <3
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Moon in scorpio- Growing up, emotions were regarded as superficial or was never even acknowledged. Mental health did not exist in the natives family, or it was shunned upon. Very likely an authority figure tried to impose their rules and values onto the native, going as far to have the native, “become like me.” As a way to save their legacy, even though it meant suffocating the native’s individuality. Lots of power dynamics and imbalances, the authority figure projected insecurities and problems onto the native at a young age—expecting the native to be a therapist of some kind. Didn’t allow the native to have a childhood of safety, stability and comfort.
3rd house stellium/virgo asc—If you have both of these, one, or Mercury as your ruler your sibling/s are very important in your healing journey. Depending on the planets in your third house or its ruler, you will find what your siblings can hell you heal/work on in this lifetime. If you have Jupiter in the 3rd, it’s possible you could have older sibling/s who always protected you in bad times. Always stood up for you. Always spoke up for you. Always got you when you had a bad day. The love shared between you two is deep. If Jupiter is in scorpio, both of you dealt with a traumatic upbringing only you two understand so deeply. You both saw each other at your deepest.
Jupiter in scorpio 3h makes for a very strong sibling bond. If it is unafflicted, if aspecting venus, or conj. The bond it intensified even more. The sibling would always look out for the native and even get themselves in trouble for it.
If Jupiter is afflicted with Saturn or Pluto, the sibling relationship dynamic will change. Possibly the sibling could move away and go silent, or deal with severe mental health issues. There ends up being a separation between the siblings, a divide in their morals, values and beliefs.
Taurus rising with moon in the 1st house—Its so interesting to see how this quickly can change depending on where the house ruler is. One can look at this and think this makes for an eloquent, observant and emotional yet passive person. But if the house ruler lies in the 8th house which would be Venus, this changes the meaning entirely. The native is possessed with wisdom and hurt of their traumatic childhood. They often experience tumultuous shifts in their identity, because of their lack of safety in their childhood, they never formed who they were. It is hidden by layers of trauma. But with moon in the first house this native carries their wounds deeply and openly. In some way, their childhood is exposed to family or friends around them. It reveals the pain they went through deeply. It can give them a heavier, intense energy. Something like a void of pain and hurt. They may also have eyes that penetrate deep to the soul because of their power. That being said, these natives have the empowerment to heal themselves on a deep level. They do a lot of inner work and may join therapy for a while to really understand themselves in a safe environment.
Sun in the 9th house, aspecting pluto—The native can become controversial due to a “taboo,” topic in their community. Very likely the native is misunderstood for years regarding what they say, what their message is. Somehow people project their opinions, assumptions without thinking of it affects the native. The native may experience backlash, ignorance from the community, until years later a revelation or truth comes out. People come to find out exactly what the native had been preaching was not only right, but astounding for so long. Sun aspecting moon also gives the native a denser, heavier energy. People may think the native was being rude or brash with their words, but in reality the native is passionate, deliberate, and intelligent.
Sun in the 9h, asp pluto— can also make an individual popular for taboo reasons. Or “heavier,” means. Like speaking up on child trafficking, political issues, ethical issues, getting into forensic criminology, becoming a lawyer, becoming a motivational speaker to help abused victims. As a lawyer the native may also fight a case that either hurts or uplifts their career. That case is something everyone will remember then by.
Chiron in the 12th in Pisces—The native experiences total loss of safety, love and stability. Stripped bare of their identity and personality, it’s likely the native experience gaslighting or emotional abuse of some kind around family or friends. The native had dreams and goals that struggled to reach light because as the native was a child, they were too busy shouldering responsibilities. Too busy caring for individuals who kept hurting them, thinking it was love. Confusing love and abuse all the same. I love you my Chiron 12h 🤍
Saturn in the 12h- Oppressive, absent father figure. If there was a father figure, the father either one: slacked on being a father or two, was obsessive in training the child. Strict rules, strict values, a conservative way of living. The native felt misguided and cornered under the father figure, having high expectations dishes out constantly and never being able to live up to any of them, because they are simply human. Which the father figure fails to comprehend—the nature of the child. Saturn in the 12h denotes the father figure experiencing separation from the child multiple times either due to: jail, alcohol, drug possession, divorce, etc.
Jupiter aspecting mars in pisces—Jupiter aspecting mars can make a native dream of taking action for a long time. Towards their future, love life, career, etc. then one day it hits them that they are spending too much time waiting for it to unfold passively. So they make a change. An impulsive much needed change. They undergo a drastic change physically and mentally. People may talk for a long time about the natives’ choices and decisions, leaving behind a legacy.
Mars in the 11th house—Can make parents/friends/family/people ignorant to the natives abuse. People may often gaslight the native as if the native is simply confused about their experiences, leading to disempowerment of the native. People may try and romanticize what the native experienced as well—glossing over extremely important details. The native gets shoved around in childhood, one to the next, never experiencing true stability. Their stability might just be the time they spend alone.
Venus in the 8h—Experiencing loss through relationships. This could exist in so many forms, betrayal, death, separation, etc. The native may relate to it being, not just one relationship, but it’s most of their relationship in this lifetime that bring up patterns in childhood. The native just wants to feel safe and not crash and burn at every connection. May experience separation with a loved one, someone very close to them. The native asks themselves why this pattern of loss keeps happening in their lives. Where does it come from? Often, a parental figure more-so the mother figure. By understanding their relationship to their mother natives can understand how they learned to cope with unhealthy treatment from others and how its impacting their ability to experience meaningful relationships.
NN in the 12h in Aries—Natives with NN in the 12h often experience isolation whether in prison, at home in an abusive family—or being on their own financially. Isolation in some way or form. NN in aries in the 12h, if you pay attention to the rest of the chart it will describe what kind of trauma the native experienced. Someone with this placement possibly experienced isolation & was forced to grow up to be a better mentor. Better son. Better daughter. Better older siblings. But lacked the guidance on how to. They were left to fend for themselves and figure it out. If the native has a stellium in the 3rd house, its possible they were left to be the better older sibling and weren’t taught how to be better for themselves.
Mercury in Capricorn—Surprisingly a native can struggle with speaking or writing with this placement. Whether it be from having a speech impediment, mutism, etc. or they could have been bullied into believing their voice didn’t matter so they hardly share their feelings and thoughts. When they do people expect them to still play that robotic monotonous role—which hurts them even more. Much love to my cap mercs 🤍 eventually its why capricorn mercurys can go on to be poets or be expressive in art. Because they weren’t allowed normal ways to express their feelings.
At your first saturn return, you will experience a massive life change. Any major circumstance happening at that time will be amplified, because Saturn is showing you lessons regarding growth. Healing never truly ends regardless of our age. At the end of your saturn return you may find that whatever issue you were dealing with will resolve itself much better—regarding your inner work and healing.
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stevie-petey · 4 months ago
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stug stug stug pleaseee i would LOVE to see something where bug is comforting steve maybe he had a fight w his dad or j in general. i’m so excited for season 4! but obvi take your time j know that we’re all very excited bc we just know that you will blow us away with your writing!!
really missin happy steve and bug so im writin this <33
enjoy !
"i dont think it looks that bad."
"youre a terrible liar, y/n."
"im not lying!" but the way your voice pitches gives it all away, and steve knows it.
"im ruined." he drops his head into your lap, burying his face in the flesh of your thigh. partially because hes mourning the loss of his hair, but mostly because he adores your thighs and revels in them whenever he can.
steve is in mourning. he can be as selfish as he wants when it comes to your thighs. its his god given right as your boyfriend.
knowing what hes doing, you shove steves face away from your thighs, though not unkindly. youre still shy around him, his touch against your bare skin foreign after only a month of dating. steve is gentle and patient with you, he understands that youve never really been in a relationship before, so he takes his time with you.
secretly, you adore how gentle he is. how cautiously he skims his fingers over your waist or how softly he breathes against your neck. it makes everything easier, lighter, for you. to be loved so tenderly without any falsehood behind it.
lost in your honey warmth of love for steve, your fingers tangle through his hair. that is, whats left of it. steves chest faces you, the hem of his shirt has lifted slightly during his complaining. soft skin spills out from underneath, revealing a plush tummy. with a mind of their own, your eyes draw down the lines of his abdomen. a low hum stirs in your own stomach.
"are you seriously checking me out right now?" steve taps your nose with his finger, snapping you out of your daze. "i mean, here i am, the love of your life, mourning the loss of beautiful hair that was taken from us too soon, and youre drooling over me."
you flick his forehead, he scrunches his face, and its familiar and lovely. "i wasnt drooling, i just wasnt listening to your dramatic despair."
steve gasps, hand over his chest. "my hair was murdered!"
"honey, only like, two inches were cut off."
well, more like three, but you wont tell him that.
somehow one of the kids, almost certainly mike, left their chewed up gum on the counter top of family video when they visited earlier today. they came in like a storm, turning the place upside down before you, robin, or steve could even stop them. apparently dustin had wanted a new movie, will was bored, lucas wanted max to go outside, and el forced mike to join because shes never seen a movie store before.
the wreckage they left behind for such simple reasons for even entering the store in the first place had astounded you.
then, because steve is always perpetually suffering the consequences of the partys actions the most, had dropped his head down onto the counter top in exhaustion as soon as they left.
right in the same spot the gum had been left.
never before have you ever seen steve crumble to the floor quite so suddenly. it was comical, really. the way he shrieked in horror while you and robin watched, neither having any idea what had just happened.
which leads you to now: consoling steve as you comb through his newly cut hair.
"what, are you implying two inches isnt a huge amount of length?" steve raises an eyebrow at you, teasing, and you blush furiously. sparing you, he doesnt point it out and instead changes the topic. "i hate those little heathens, i really do."
"how do we know one of them is the gum culprit?"
"because theyre cursed little shitheads who always mar my appearance one way or another." then, as an afterthought, steve adds, "plus that wheeler kid has a weird obsession with watermelon gum."
again you try to defend the kids, even though you know it was most definitely mike. sure, he shouldnt have left his gum on the counter, but it was funny. "and how do we know it was watermelon gum?"
"i could smell it when robin was cutting all my hair off, angel."
"and yet youre as handsome as ever!" you press a purposely messy kiss atop of steves head, blowing slightly into his face and making a dramatic kissing sound when you pull away. anything to distract him from realizing it was all mikes fault.
gotta protect the little shithead somehow.
steve shrieks, reminiscent of the shriek from earlier, and shoves you away as he wipes at his face. "ew!"
"how dare you wipe my kiss away, steve harrington."
"you spit on me!"
"lovingly."
steve rolls onto his stomach and throws himself onto you. now its your turn to shriek as he throws his weight on top of you, tackling you onto his bed. luckily his parents arent home, otherwise theyd have some very horrified questions.
"steve!" you land with a soft thud on his pillows, and he smiles up from above you. hes all proud, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink, and his eyes shine with adoration for you.
hes beautiful. you cant believe hes yours.
"youre supposed to be comforting me, angel!" steve presses himself down even more, rendering you unable to move and wiggle away from him. you squeal when his hands find your sides, fingers digging into your skin as he tickles you. "i mean, im wounded here!"
you squeal with laughter as his hands attack you, mercilessly, yet gentle nonetheless. "s-steve! stop!"
"not until you apologize to my hair."
"your hair?" more laughter rips from your chest, ribs aching.
"mhm, tell my hair that its still handsome. his feelings are hurt." steve buries his nose into your neck, causing you to giggle even more, and the sound encases his body and reminds him of everything good and lovely.
you try to pull away, but steve has you pinned. "youre-ah! youre such an-an idiot!"
"that doesnt sound like an apology, y/n."
finally giving up, you force out an apology in between breaths of laughter. "i-im sorry! your-your hair is handsome!"
steves fingers leave your sides, but he pulls you deep into his chest and collapses upon you. he nuzzles into your neck, wraps his hands around you, tries to meld the two of you into one. "much better," he mumbles into your skin.
"your hair really is handsome, you know." you draw circles into steves back, breath slowly returning to normal. fingers finding his hair once more, you play with the strands and massage his head with your nails. "youre handsome. two inches lost or not.”
"really?" steve lifts his face, looks down at you, preening at your words with an unusual shyness.
you bring your hands to his face, holding it with all the love you have for him. "the handsomest."
lips find lips, and soon the two of you get lost in each other as you inevitably always do.
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