#that’s exactly how pride month should be spent

[noburden]

was offline and missed your bday :( happy belated !!!!! i love you so !!!! update me on everything emewee RN⁉️

BETSY !!! hello i’ve missed you so much i literally checked ur account yesterday and i was like omg a month without betsy 😰 i was having withdrawals also THANK YOU !!! it’s okay i missed ur bday too and i agreed to sacrifice my first born child to make up for it ✊ love u more

[lacy-oh-lacy]

Coming out to Marvel Characters

A/N: Happy Pride! Reader's orientation/identity is ambiguous, as is your relationship with the characters :) Masterlist

Steve: Telling him is a little intimidating considering the time he’s from, but truthfully you could of told him back in the 30s and even then he would of accepted you -albeit with more anxiety over your safety. He’s open minded for his time, and he has in spades the kind of compassion you need after bearing your heart and soul like that. 

Tony: He’s a dickhead more often than not, but he gets that this is a rare time not to be. He’s quiet for a moment, processing, and then he’s nonchalant. He acknowledges what you said as sensitively as he can but he also doesn’t linger on it. He accepts who you are, but to him it’s not a moment to get sappy over, it’s as casual as he thinks lending someone basic human decency should be.

Thor: He forgets for a minute that this can be a big deal to earthlings, queerness as you call it is a lot more normalised on Asguard.Then he remembers, and trying to be supportive -albeit a little clumsily- he pats your back and commends the courage it must of taken to tell him, assuring you you have his wholehearted acceptance.

Natasha: Look, as perceptive as she is, there’s no way she hasn’t already known for months. She’s just been too respectful to say anything. When you do finally tell her she feigns just a bit of surprise for your benefit, then she’s very casual about the whole thing. She’s accepting but in a quiet way, she’s one to show her support subtly as it naturally comes up.

Wanda: She doesn’t have the most in depth lgbtqia+ education or anything but she wholeheartedly supports the community. So, between that and her being the compassionate person she is, she’s very easy to tell. She’s so understanding and sensitive to your feelings, and honestly she’s just really touched that you trusted her enough to tell her.

Peter P: It really does come as a surprise, just because he’s usually so preoccupied with his own secret that he doesn’t often think about what other people might be hiding. He adjusts right away though, he’s always considerate to your comfort and now is no exception. He’s so sweet, he’s just happy you told him and asking the most thoughtful questions.

Carol: Though she’s also from a more close-minded time, she’s a little less intimidating to tell. For one thing, she’s spent her life since then around a diverse range of space cultures, and for another, she kind of has her own… vibe. And yeah, you were right not to worry, she doesn’t exactly overreact but she’s very obvious in her support.

Bucky: He is surprised, but also curious. When you spend most your life in the 30s and the rest in captivity you don’t learn how to respond to someone coming out to you (at least not in a way he ever would) but he doesn’t do too bad, he clearly isn’t bothered. Actually you coming out sparks his interest in the matter and inspires him to educate himself on queerness in the 21st century.

Yelena: As another queer person, she thinks it’s great, her eyes actually light up as you tell her. Honestly, she’s kind of hoping that you have more experience with things like pride and community than she does because she could really use some guidance, but even if not it’s still nice just to know she has someone who’s like her in her life and hopes that you feel the same way.

Loki: He couldn’t be less fazed if you told him your star sign, frankly. He is quick though, he can see this is important to you. So, wanting you to feel validated he asks some polite follow up questions, he’s happy to let you vent if you want, he’ll even offer some insight as someone a lot more at home in his queer identity if you need it. Plus, the best thing about telling him is that he’s definitely down to …handle… any bigots you’re dealing with.

Valkyrie: She’ll drink to that. Really, she thinks it’s nice, she’s supportive without making a big deal out of it. Though she’s queer herself, she wouldn’t think to offer any advice on the matter because well… she’s kind of a mess, but if you need someone to talk to she’s not a bad listener.

Kate: Despite what an adorably awkward motormouth she can be at times, she’s actually pretty chill about this. She does rush to reassure you that she’s fine with it, especially if you seem nervous, but she’s otherwise relaxed and lets you do most of the talking. It’s not that big of a shock to her really, it’s not like she’s never met other queer people before.

Peter Q: To be for real, most of what her knows about queer people comes from outdated stereotypes, relics from his childhood, and there was probably a time when coming out to him really would of sucked because of that, but he’s matured a lot since then so he takes this in with an open mind and responds with surprising sensitivity and kindness, at least by his standards.

Gamora: She’s been through planets more or less accepting of queerness so she gets the gist, but with how shut-off she’s been you’re still the first (out) queer person she’s known well. You wouldn’t know that though, because she responds very calmly to you coming out and she’s very easy to talk to about it.

Drax: He does not get the big deal. He doesn’t even get what homophobia / transphobia is really, and yet he still manages to say something totally offensive (albeit completely unintentionally) when you come out to him -which he later apologises for. Of course he accepts you, it’s not even a question, and after that first slip up he does make it a point to try and be more respectful …to mixed results.

Groot: He is Groot.

Rocket: He’s not respectful per se, because he never is, but he takes it fine. With all the crazy stuff he’s seen, you’re really not making headlines. He doesn’t know how to communicate it, but he’s sympathetic to the more alienating parts of your experience, especially to bigotry you faced, and he’s the quickest to defend you if ever needed.

[rubycruzin4abruzin]

behind the curtain

Summary: Sequel to never been (stage) kissed. After shooting wraps, you and Ruby part ways. Eight months later, you see each other again at the premiere screening, and decide to “sneak away” during the after-party. How will you two navigate the paparazzi after they catch you in a compromising position?

Pairing: ruby cruz x actress!reader

Contains: mature language, adult humor, kissing, angst, fluff, hair playing, secret relationship trope, brief mention of an ED, publicity tweets and comments, invasive tabloids, the price of fame

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: This is a sequel to my previous RPF, so the RPF Guidelines still stand. This fic contains a very brief mentioning towards an ED, and should not be triggering (at least I don’t think so). I am not insinuating anything by this mention, it is simply meant to shed light on how invasive and presumptuous Hollywood can be. That being said, I had the most fun EVER writing this! Enjoy! :)

———

Ever since the first “kissing lesson,” you and Ruby had spent every on-set lunch break in her trailer. Nothing ever progressed beyond kissing, but with the way Ruby’s hands entangled themselves in your hair, and how she shivered every time your hand grazed her thigh, kissing was really all you needed.

Your mid-day rendezvous were kept a secret from the rest of the world. None of the cast or crew knew exactly what was happening when the door to Ruby’s trailer closed, but it was clear that something was working. Since the trailer lunches began, your on-set chemistry became palpable. It even got to the point where the director would shout words of praise after “cut!”

Eventually, like with all movies, filming began to wrap up. The last day on set, you and Ruby spent all of your down time wrapped in each other's arms, tears falling at the thought of parting. Everyone on set sympathized with the both of you, except for the makeup artist who kept having to touch up your alien makeup after every fallen tear.

You and Ruby promised to keep in touch, and you did for a little while. But daily FaceTimes eventually became weekly phone calls, which turned into sporadic texts, until silence settled between you, save for occasional likes on social media posts. You missed her terribly, and while your pride and fear of rejection kept you from reaching back out, you couldn’t help but wonder if she was missing you too.

About eight months after shooting wrapped for “Aliens of Atlantis,” you were going over sides for an upcoming audition when you got a call from your agent. Upon answering, she announced that “Aliens of Atlantis” post-production had wrapped, and the film had a scheduled premiere where the cast would be making an appearance.

A blissful daze settled across your face at this news. Your agent kept on talking about the when, the where, and the dress code of the upcoming premiere, but you were only half-listening. Her words mushed together, flying in one ear and out the other as the only thing that mattered to you consumed your mind.

You were going to see Ruby again.

On the morning of the premiere, you woke up with a knot in your stomach. You couldn’t tell if the cause was nerves or excitement, but you chalked it up to probably being a little of both. You tried everything to settle your stomach, from aspirin to deep breaths to simply distracting yourself with other tasks. Despite your attempts, when your driver arrived later in the day to take you to the premiere, the knot was still there and prominent as ever.

By the time you had arrived and were about to get out of the car, the knot had seemingly spread throughout your entire body, making you feel like an absolute disaster. You took out your phone and checked your reflection in the front-facing camera, just to remind yourself that you weren’t. In fact, you looked good. You were wearing a metallic blue floor-length gown as a not-so subtle nod to your alien character from the movie. Pale blue eyeshadow decorated your eyelids, and you left your hair down in loose face-framing curls. You knew the press would go crazy as soon as they saw you, and that thought alone gave you enough of a confidence boost to calm down a bit.

When the car pulled up to the red carpet, you took a deep breath and stepped out, immediately being bombarded with cameras flashing in your face. You blinked, overwhelmed at the bright lights, and quickly attempted to paste on a smile and act like this wasn’t your first red carpet event.

You stumbled down the red carpet and looked around for Ruby, but the constant camera flashes and bright lights made it difficult to see much. Every now and then you would stop to strike a pose and flash a pretty smile in some random direction, or answer one of the million questions being thrown at you.

“Who are you wearing?”

A fucking blue dress. “Valdrin Sahiti!”

“How do you feel about your first red carpet event?”

Overwhelmed. “So excited!”

“What are you most looking forward to tonight?”

Seeing Ruby again. “Everyone finally getting to see all the hard work from the cast and crew!”

After what felt like an eternity of paparazzi and bullshit answers to trivial questions, the end of the red carpet was finally approaching. You felt yourself let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It wasn’t easy, but you managed to make it down your first red carpet without making a complete fool of yourself.

Eventually, the cameras seemed to dissipate, focusing on the next pretty young thing that had just arrived. You blinked, trying to restore your vision infringed upon by the blinding lights. Once you could see in front of you again, you looked up, and a gulp forced itself down your throat at what might have been the prettiest sight you’d ever seen.

There, standing at the end of the red carpet, was Ruby Cruz, radiant amidst the flashing lights.

Her gown was long and form-fitting, sporting bright streaks of color and a slit up one of her legs. Dark brown curls hovered above her shoulders and cascaded down the back of her neck, while glittery red eyeshadow made her blue eyes pop. She looked so natural, posing and smiling for the cameras, that you couldn’t help but feel a bit envious of her.

Upon seeing you, Ruby’s eyes brightened, and a goofy grin spread across her face. She walked towards you, wrapping an arm around your waist and instantly making the cameras go wild. Your cheeks flushed into a bright pink tint. You missed her touch, and having her arm wrapped around you like that almost felt like deja vu.

While the both of you posed for the flashing cameras, Ruby leaned down to your ear and whispered one single sentence, the answer to a question you didn’t need to ask.

“I missed you.”

Unsurprisingly, the movie premiere turned out to be a massive success. The audience was extremely receptive to the storyline, cheering and gasping at all the right moments. Critics even approached you after the screening to rave about your performance and promise a glowing review.

The after-party was held at a nearby banquet hall, decorated to look like the underwater city of Atlantis. Filk music blasted through speakers while an open bar served space-themed cocktails.

You were busy making your rounds, establishing connections with other attendees while sipping a ‘cosmonaut’ from the open bar. While posing for a photo with a fan, you couldn’t help but realize you hadn’t seen Ruby in a bit. You craned your neck to look for her, but she was nowhere to be found. You shrugged it off, thinking it’s just a big venue and you’d probably run into her at some point during the night.

After several photos, impromptu interviews, and business cards you had nowhere to put, you were exhausted. You tried to make yourself as invisible as possible, leaning against a curtain by the back wall and downing the last sip of your cocktail.

While scanning the room, you noticed some of your castmates appeared slightly tipsy. You felt bad for them, knowing their press interviews would come off as less than professional, but there was a small part of you that wished you had more to drink throughout the night. The party was fun, sure, but took a lot out of you, and alcohol was sure to make it more tolerable.

Suddenly, while you were immersed in watching a crew member profusely apologize to an intern she had drunkenly stumbled into, you felt a disembodied hand appear out of nowhere and wrap around your arm. The hand pulled you behind the curtain you were leaning against, causing you to gasp and drop your empty cup.

You whipped around to see who grabbed you, preparing to throw a punch or scream for help if you had to. Instead, your eyes softened and you lowered your fist upon seeing Ruby, standing there staring at you with a devilish smirk.

“Hi pretty girl.” She cooed, taking a step towards you.

“Ruby…” you half-whispered in shock, eyes traveling up and down her body. “What are you doing?”

“I missed you,” she rested her hands on your hips and bit her lip, letting an ounce of vulnerability shine through her otherwise confident exterior. “I missed this. I feel like we barely got to see each other all night.”

“Me too,” you responded, internally melting at the feeling of her warm hands on your torso.

You wrapped your arms around her neck and leaned close to her before a sense of paranoia made you backtrack. “Ruby, it’s a big party, what if someone sees us?”

Ruby simply shrugged, completely unbothered. “Like you said, it’s a big party. Our castmates are drunk, the press is too focused on capturing their embarrassing moments.”

Her words seemed to reassure you, and you pulled her close to you again, feeling the warmth of her body against yours. “I’m glad you pulled me away.”

Ruby crashed her lips against yours, forcing a soft moan to escape your throat. She pulled back, looking deep into your eyes and holding your face in her hands.

“Careful now. We don’t want anyone hearing us.”

You nodded, non-verbally promising to keep quiet before Ruby brought her lips to yours again. Both of you sighed into the kiss, eight months of absence making itself prominent with passion. She tasted like sweet nostalgia with a hint of coconut rum, probably leftover from a drink she had earlier.

Ruby pressed herself against you, and you grabbed at the back of her neck, desperate to be as close to her as possible. She kept her hands planted at your waist, thumbing over the metallic fabric of your gown. Each time her fingertips pressed into your sides sent electrifying shocks through your body, making your knees stutter and causing you to lean more into Ruby for balance.

You brought your hands up to play with one of her curls, prompting a gentle sigh to travel from her mouth into yours. A smirk appeared on your lips, realizing your beloved brunette enjoyed having her hair played with.

Just when you were about to fully take advantage of this newfound information, a sudden crash engulfed your ears, followed by a blinding light and a collective gasp. You and Ruby pulled away from each other, turning your heads to check out the commotion.

One of the interns had drunkenly stumbled into the curtain and pulled it down with him as he fell, leaving you and Ruby entangled in each other and completely exposed to the rest of the party.

All hell broke loose. Interviewers screamed questions from across the room while paparazzi cameras flashed in your face. Those without cameras pulled out their phones and filmed the both of you, desperate for their fifteen minutes of fame.

Anxiety overtook your body as you felt a lump rise to your throat and your heart sink to your feet. You turned to look at Ruby, eyes full of fear, but she wasn’t looking at you. She was looking straight at the flashing cameras, with an expression that made your blood run cold.

You had never seen her bright blue eyes filled with so much anger.

The pit in your stomach grew as you scrolled through the tabloid headlines and Twitter articles featuring your and Ruby’s “stunt” from the other night. This was bad. So bad, that both of your agents had gotten together to hire a public relations manager just for the situation.

Two days after the movie premiere, an emergency meeting was called. Five of you were called to the manager’s office, with both of your agents sitting on either side of him, and you and Ruby placed across from the three of them.

The manager, named Rick, held out his hand and you gave him his phone back, sick of scrolling through the headlines anyway. As far as you could tell, Rick didn’t seem like a bad guy, but it was clear Ruby didn’t feel the same. She hadn’t said a word throughout the entire meeting, instead keeping her arms crossed in front of her chest and pointing a cold glare towards the man in front of her.

She didn’t trust him, and everyone in the room knew it.

Rick gave the both of you a sheepish grin. “As you both can probably see, you’re kind of the flavor of the week right now.”

Ruby’s agent nodded in agreement. “I have a friend in New York, and she heard a rumor about an SNL sketch being written about the whole thing.”

Your agent sighed, clearly having heard the rumor herself. Ruby simply scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Is it really that big of a deal?” You piped up.

All eyes turned to look at you, making you shrink in your seat. “I mean, can’t we just wait for it to blow over? All we did was kiss at an after party.”

“It’s not like we were fucking, Rick.” Ruby growled through her teeth, causing a blush to appear on your cheeks.

Rick cleared his throat, uncomfortable with Ruby’s candidness. “Well it’s not really that simple…”

“No one knows what you are.” Your agent interrupted. “All the public knows is you were caught going at it like teenagers in a basement, and now the media is going to be on top of everything you do until they figure it out.”

Ruby’s agent nodded. “Before this, we wanted you both to appear single to the public. You’re both very attractive girls. People want you, and we want them to think they can have you.”

“But that’s not really an option now.” Rick pointed out. “Fortunately, both of you have pretty reputable status in Hollywood. People see two of their favorite actresses together, feedback is bound to be mostly positive.”

He opened up a notepad in front of him and started scribbling down something you couldn’t quite make out.

“I’m thinking, we take this relationship and go completely public. Social media posts, dates open to the paparazzi, everything. That way, the media won’t have to do any guess work and this whole thing will blow over sooner.”

Suddenly, Ruby stood up from her seat and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

“Ruby!” Her agent called after her.

She turned to flash an apologetic smile towards all the shocked faces staring back at her. “I’m sorry. She’s not usually like this. I’ll talk to her.”

She ran out of the room after Ruby, leaving Rick and your agent to go over the details of the plan. Their voices faded into the background as millions of thoughts swam through your mind. You had a bad feeling about this ‘public relationship’ idea.

How were you supposed to go public with your relationship, when you weren’t even sure if there was a relationship to go public with?

You adjusted your oversized hat and sunglasses while staring up at the cafe sign that read “Grind n’ Dine,” shuddering at the slightly suggestive name.

One week after the meeting with Rick, he worked with your agents to schedule a public date for you and Ruby, tipping off the press to make sure there was media coverage. Grind n’ Dine, a local business, had apparently paid Rick a large sum of money to schedule your date here in the hopes that the publicity would be good for business.

Taking a deep breath, you walked in through the restaurant doors and looked around. Several members of the press were already present, wearing cameras around their necks and sipping coffee at various tables. You breathed out a sigh of relief that they didn’t recognize you yet, thankful for your agent who suggested arriving in disguise.

In the very back of the restaurant, tucked into a booth, you spotted Ruby hiding behind a menu. She had her body and hair buried under a large black hoodie, and masked her face with sunglasses similar to yours. You made your way over to her, trying to act natural, and making sure to avoid press members as much as possible in case they recognize you before you’re ready.

You slid into the seat across from her and cleared your throat to alert her of your presence. She put down her menu and laid it flat, before tilting her sunglasses down to meet your eyes.

Her blue eyes, once lively and bright, were now bloodshot and emotionless. Dark circles hung like bags underneath them, as if she hadn’t slept in days. You felt a sharp pang in your chest. Ruby had never looked at you this way before, and you wished more than anything that she would stop.

“Ready for this?” She asked, her voice monotone and lifeless.

You gulped, nodding defeatedly. “As I’ll ever be.”

Ruby removed her sunglasses and pulled down her hood, shaking out her wild brunette locks. You followed suit, taking off your hat and slipping your sunglasses into your purse.

Almost immediately, members of the press recognized the both of you, and practically trampled the poor servers and other diners to get to your booth. Cameras were suddenly shoved in your face, followed by microphones and what felt like hundreds of pointless and rather invading questions.

“Is this a date? How would you define your relationship?”

“If you had to describe your sex life using only three words, what would they be?”

“Ruby! Do you think every liberal democrat should take home a migrant to show their support for the proposed open border policy?”

The two of you mumbled terse responses to some of the questions, and completely ignored others. After several minutes of verbal torture, a perky blonde waitress fought her way through the press and stopped at the end of your table. She sported a wide politician's smile not directed at the two of you, instead flashed to the surrounding cameras in search of fifteen minutes of fame.

“Hi guys,” she started, her voice unnaturally high pitched. “My name is Bethany, what can I get started for you today?”

“I’ll have a quinoa salad and cranberry juice, please.” You answered, handing Bethany your menu.

The press murmured imperceptible comments regarding your order, some even scribbling notes on napkins. “Quinoa… salad…”

“Just a coffee’s fine.” Ruby mumbled, order being followed by press comments as well.

As soon as Bethany walked away, the paparazzi shoved the cameras back in your face and bombarded you and Ruby with questions once more.

“Did you order cranberry juice because you like cranberry juice or because you have a UTI? How did you get this UTI?”

“I noticed you were the only one who ordered food. Could it be because you’re eating for two?”

“Speaking of, why didn’t you order food, Ruby? Are you battling some kind of eating disorder? Would you like to comment on it?”

“Enough!” Ruby exclaimed, perhaps louder than she should have.

Immediately, the press was silent, with only the sound of sporadic camera clicks being heard. Ruby turned to look at you, tears starting to well in her tired eyes.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this…” she whispered, getting up and running out of the restaurant.

“Ruby! Wait, please!” You stood up and ran after her, leaving the paparazzi in the dust behind you.

You found Ruby leaning against a building across the cafe. She had her head resting against the cool brick, and her face pointed to the sky while she blinked back tears threatening to fall.

A lump formed in your throat as you started to approach her. You couldn’t stand to see her like this. She looked so… miserable.

“Ruby…” you muttered softly, reaching out your hand.

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the concrete, refusing to look you in the eye. “I just wasn’t hungry! It’s barely ten in the fucking morning!”

You sighed. “Ruby, we both know that’s not what this is about. What’s going on?”

She sniffed, and focused her gaze on something behind you. “Can we… go somewhere else?”

Turning to see what Ruby was looking at, you noticed a teenage girl filming the two of you on her phone. You rolled your eyes, completely exasperated at this point.

“Let’s go.” You muttered, grabbing her hand to pull her away.

It didn’t take long to find a nearby alleyway, deserted except for an empty dumpster. You dragged Ruby into the back, letting go of her hand once the coast was clear.

“Talk.”

The pale brunette pushed her bangs out of her face, blinking a couple times while gathering her thoughts.

“I just… this is why my Instagram is private. This is why I’ve never explicitly labeled my sexuality. This is why I rarely talk about my personal life! I don’t want the media invading my space! I don’t want random strangers knowing intimate details about my life! It’s fucking freaky!”

You nodded, understanding her perspective, especially as you’d been recently dealing with the wrath of the paparazzi as well. She continued.

“I mean fuck! I can’t even order a damn coffee without some tabloid claiming I have a fucking eating disorder!”

Her breathing seemed to be evening out the more she spoke. She let out a shuddering breath and crossed her arms, staring at the gravel beneath her feet.

“I just… I just wanted to kiss you at an after-party. I missed you. And now everyone’s forcing us to be in this relationship and make it public but…”

“But no one asked us if we were even together,” you finished.

She nodded. “Exactly! We never even had a conversation just between us. Everyone just assumed.”

You pulled the brunette girl into your arms, wrapping them around her torso. She buried her face in the crook of your neck as you stroked her soft locks.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “If I had known that’s how you felt…”

“No.” She interrupted. “It wasn’t you. You didn’t do anything, I… listen…”

She pulled away, and you felt a pit form in your stomach. You waited for her to tell you that she didn’t want to see you again, that it was too hard, that it meant nothing.

You held your breath as she took your face in her hands, her blue eyes piercing into yours.

“I like you.”

“You… huh?” Shock painted your features as Ruby said the last thing you were expecting to hear.

“I like you.” She repeated, the corners of her mouth slightly upturned. “I meant it when I said I missed you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you the entire eight months we didn’t talk. I should have reached out more, I don’t know why I didn’t. I guess I was scared? I don’t know…”

She was babbling, and you didn’t think she could get any cuter. You took her hands off your face and held them in yours, flashing her an encouraging smile.

“I like you too,” you replied giddily. “More than you know.”

Ruby chuckled, a faint blush tinting her cheeks. She stared down at the gravel again, chewing on her lip before speaking.

“I like you… I really do, but if we’re gonna start this… something, I’d want to take it slow and be completely private. No socials, no media, at least for now. Would… that be something you’re okay with?”

You squeezed her hands, flashing her a goofy grin. “I would… love that, actually.”

As you stared at your former celebrity crush, turned co-star, turned friend, turned… something, a wave of courage suddenly washed over you. Letting go of her hands, you seized her face and brought your lips to hers, tentatively, testing the waters. She gasped, but soon kissed back, sighing as she wrapped her arms around your neck and leaned into your body.

You moved your hand towards the back of her neck, then slowly inched upwards until your fingers were entangled in her hair. An almost inaudible moan escaped her lips and vibrated against yours as you played with her soft tresses. You smirked into the kiss, remembering exactly how much she liked having her hair played with before getting caught at the after-party.

Finally, after what could have been an eternity, you pulled away from each other. The two of you gasped for breath, both smiling like giddy children at the other.

“So… what now?” You asked breathlessly.

Ruby hummed to herself, seemingly in thought. “We could… go on a real date? Just you and me? No paparazzi. There’s this great little hole-in-the-wall place I like to go to when I don’t want to get recognized.”

You tilted your head, shooting her a lopsided smile. “That sounds perfect, actually.”

Before leaving the alleyway, Ruby put her sunglasses back on and pulled her hood over her head again, while you dug your sunglasses out of your purse and readjusted your hat. The two of you were disguised, hidden from the world, but happy to be able to pursue each other away from public opinion.

Ruby reached out her hand, her blue eyes somehow still managing to shine behind her sunglasses. “Ready for this?”

You smiled back at her, taking her hand and intertwining her fingers with yours. “As I’ll ever be.”

[suga-kookiemonster]

satisfy 06

summary⇢ “listen,” taehyung says, eyes wide and eager as he smiles at you. “i figure we can just help each other out. i scratch your back, you scratch mine.” but when you find yourself suddenly in need of a massive favor, exactly how much scratching are you willing to do? pairing⇢ seokjin/reader, namjoon/reader, taehyung/reader, …..jimin/reader word count⇢ 4.8k genre⇢ smut | escort!au | ceo!au (kinda) warnings⇢ none, really. just a few suggestive memories and oc having a crisis 👀 a/n⇢ and now, my dear friends, we finally make it to the epilogue! 🥹 thank you to everyone who has stuck with this fic over the years, and i'm extra grateful to everyone who has dropped in my inbox at any point to scream their feelings about it to me--as well as everyone who has enjoyed it enough to reblog and share! 💜💜 you guys are the ones who really keep me coming back to share my writing on this hellsite, and i truly, truly appreciate you for helping keep fandom fun and alive. i hope you've enjoyed this ride as much as i have enjoyed taking you on it! 🥰😈 mood for this chapter is this song~ thanks again, everyone! 💜

chapters⇢ previous | series masterlist

Just as they were scheduled to, your employers jetted off overseas, leaving you to your own devices for the next three weeks. You weren’t going to lie—it felt bizarre for your calendar to be so open after months of near bursting due to constant activity. But honestly? It was truly refreshing to suddenly have so much downtime. And after your last Kim encounter, you definitely felt your break was well-deserved.   

So, you used the sudden breathing room to catch up on other parts of your life that had been suffering. The next few days were spent burrowed beneath the covers and gloriously unconscious, your truly exhausted body ensuring sleep to be your first priority. Initiating the wildest sexual encounter you had ever had—and probably would ever have—on a Thursday meant that you luckily only had to miss one lecture, and you happily did so, knowing the slides would be online for you to look over later. And though you weren’t asleep the entire weekend, even when you were awake, you didn’t part with the comfort of your bed for long—eating takeout in it and watching true crime documentaries in it and actively ignoring the way your skin tingled when your mind strayed to the other activities you had done in it not too long prior. 

(And if you were being honest, it was a little hard to not linger on what you had done. On what you so easily allowed the Kims to do.) 

When you did allow yourself to linger on it, it almost felt like a fever dream. Some abstract, depraved fantasy that your overactive mind had cooked up. But the ache in your muscles, the tenderness of your pussy—these were tangible proof that it had all been real. That the flashes of hot tongues and gasping breaths and shivering pleasure that kept creeping back, no matter how you tried to distract yourself, were memories, not figments of your imagination. You knew you should probably feel some sort of shame over it, but honestly? Other than astonishment that this was what your life had become, other than the expected fatigue—

You only felt satisfied.

Satisfied that your own needs had been spectacularly met, of course, but also with the knowledge that your employers were even more satiated than you, and that you had done that. You couldn’t help but glow with a sense of pride when your doorbell rang one afternoon and you were handed a gorgeous flower arrangement, the corresponding card detailing that the unexpected, expensive gift was from Kim Seokjin. Months ago, you probably would have felt mortified to receive them—especially with the intimate knowledge of what exactly he was thanking you for—but you had earned those flowers, dammit! Earned that, as well as the absurd amount of money Namjoon unceremoniously wired you in between the texts he sent you every few days to check on you. 

You always gave your all to whatever you set out to do, and this was no different. You were a hard worker, period. No one could fault you for being pleased with the successful results of your efforts.     

So yes, you spent those next few days relaxing and recuperating and feeling rewarded. And when you finally felt enough like a human to leave your nest of pillows and blankets, you used your newfound freedom from distractions to catch up on other parts of your life you had been inadvertently ignoring—the first being your schoolwork, and the second, Jimin. 

You did a double-take when your text thread showed that the last time you had messaged him had been a week and a half ago, unbelieving. Though busy, the two of you never went that long without at least checking in, and for him to not reach out either? You couldn’t help but worry that maybe he had forgotten about you. Found someone much more interesting, someone prettier and much more available to be showered with his attention than you. 

But luckily, your slow spiraling was immediately halted when the timid Hey you sent him resulted in his bubbly, smiley face-filled reply barely a second later. 

And so now, there you were, meeting him in person for the first time in over a month.

“Sorry I’m late,” you told him as you approached the table, slightly out of breath from your hustle there. “Traffic was crazy and the Uber driver seemed afraid of driving, or something? Like, this probably isn’t the job for you if driving in the city makes you that nervous.” Because yes, when Jimin asked if you could meet him for dinner, you were surprised when he chose a spot downtown. And you were even more surprised when you finally arrived and realized that said restaurant was apparently an upscale hotspot, especially considering the meals you usually shared together consisted of nothing fancier than takeout or something you could grab from the convenience store.

He immediately stood up to wrap you in his arms, giving you a comforting squeeze that reflexively had you melting into the warmth of him before he let go. God, he smelled good. “Glad you made it in one piece,” came his amused reply, eyes twinkling as he reached over and politely pulled your chair out for you.  

You did your best to tamp down the familiar delighted butterflies that always sprung up within you when you were near him. There was something more pressing that needed to be addressed. “Jimin,” you hissed out the corner of your mouth, warily looking around. “You didn’t tell me this restaurant was so nice! I would’ve dressed up more.” Because as it was, your simple cocktail dress wasn’t really cutting it. The tables had cloth tablecloths that no doubt were removed and washed between each seating. There were multiple chandeliers sparkling from the ceiling, for fuck’s sake! Jimin had told you to wear something more on the nicer side, but he never told you this nice, and you could tell immediately that you were underdressed. You had been so excited to see him again that you just got in the car without even bothering to google the place first. 

Jimin waved a dismissive hand, visibly unbothered as he retook his own seat. For his part, he had actually taken the time to throw on a rather smart blazer over his dress shirt and slacks, his hair carefully styled and slicked back. “You look beautiful, as you always do.”

Your eyes shifted to the table, a shy but pleased smile inching across your lips. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for meeting me. I was worried you’d forgotten about me.”

You couldn’t help the incredulous snort that escaped you. “Me forget about you? No, of course not, Jiminie. I’m sorry for dropping off the face of the earth—I’ve just been so busy—”

Jimin’s raised hand halted your rambling, the gentle crinkle of his eyes calming your frazzled nerves. “Don’t worry,” he smiled. “I totally get it—I was just teasing. I could tell you had a lot going on, and so I just didn’t want to bother you. You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

Didn’t you, though? Would he feel the same way if he knew just what had been taking up all your time? You reflexively swallowed, sifting uncomfortably in your seat. “Yeah, school has been running me ragged.” And it’s not a lie. Just not the full truth.

“No kidding. I think I got seven hours of sleep total last week, so like I said, I totally get it.” Before it even registered that he was reaching for you, his hand was already enveloping yours, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your palm. “I’m just happy we have the chance to get together now. I missed you.” 

You felt yourself immediately soften into putty at his admission. “I’ve missed you too, Jimin,” came your soft reply. Dazedly, you tried your best not to visibly show how much his unexpected touch was making your heartbeat skyrocket, but from the pleased curl of his lips, you weren’t entirely sure you were successful. 

It didn’t matter, because just as easily as he had reached into your space, he was now letting go, pulling his appendage back to his side of the table to pick up his menu.  

As if waiting for a lull in your conversation, the waiter chose that moment to approach your table. “Welcome to Serendipity. Have the two of you dined with us before?”

“I haven’t,” Jimin replied, expectantly looking your way for your response and finding you scrabbling for your menu instead.

“Me neither,” you squeaked, flustered that you had been too busy making heart eyes at Jimin to even give it a cursory browse. “Is there anything you recommend?”

The waiter reached over a little to direct you a slip of paper on your table that had gone unnoticed until this moment. “You can find our current specials here—I’m a big fan of the salmon, but everything on there is excellent. And we’re actually currently running a dinner for two special, that’s been really popular. One appetizer to share, two entrées, and a dessert to share.”

Yes, it didn’t surprise you that that would be popular—along with how nice the restaurant was, you had noticed immediately when walking in that it was filled with couples who were clearly having romantic nights out.

“I think we’re still deciding on food.” Jimin’s voice cut through your thoughts. “But can we please see a wine list?”

Wine? Your brow raised, not opposed, but surprised. In all the time you’ve known each other, alcohol has certainly never been a stranger—you’ve had late night study sessions together, accompanied by chicken and beer; you’ve gotten shitfaced together at bars after particularly rough exams. But something about this felt…different. In this restaurant, much fancier than you anticipated, surrounded by couples, sitting across a candlelit table from where Jimin was poring over a wine selection that you knew had to be really expensive—this was undoubtedly more intimate.  

You idly cleared your throat, not daring to linger too long on the dots your mind couldn’t help but connect. Because it obviously couldn’t be that. It had to be a coincidence.

“_____,” Jimin said, the slight raise in his voice cluing you in that this wasn’t the first time he had tried to get your attention. “How does this one sound?” 

You blinked our of your thoughts, finding both him and the waiter looking at you expectantly. “Whatever you choose is fine!” you croaked, slapping on a smile for good measure.    

���Excellent choice. I’ll bring it right out,” the waiter said with an affirmative tilt of his head, and then the two of you were alone again. 

It was quiet for a bit while you both properly perused your menus, though from the corner of your eye, the curious glances Jimin was sending you didn’t escape your notice. You were acting weird. You were acting weird and he could clearly tell you were acting weird, but ever since you noticed the restaurant’s romantic atmosphere, you couldn’t help it.

“These prices are kinda wild, huh?” came your attempt at normal conversation.

Jimin took it in stride, lips curling in amusement. “Yeah, they’re definitely overcharging for those stuffed mushrooms. But don’t worry about it—I invited you out, so this is my treat.”

You shook your head immediately. “No, no, I can’t let you do that! I was just making a comment. Don’t worry, I have enough money to pay.”

He let out a bemused sigh, shaking his head, and if you didn’t happen to be looking directly at him, you might have missed him say under his breath, “You’re not gonna make this date easy for me, huh?”

You immediately choked on your own spit, eyes bugging at what you thought you heard. “D-Date?” you repeated incredulously.

Jimin’s spine went stiff, eyes widening as if he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. You could only watch in amazement as it was his turn to look shy, pointedly averting his gaze to his menu and letting out a chuckle that sounded suspiciously nervous to your bemused ears. When you continued to gape at him, waiting for some sort of explanation, he was forced to continue.

“Yeah,” he hedged cautiously. “That’s what I’d hoped. Would that be a bad thing?”

You couldn’t answer right away, staring him down like he had grown two heads and wondering when he was going to burst out laughing with a Gotcha! You should have seen your face.  

Always one for great timing, the waiter chose that moment to come back with your wine, taking his sweet time pouring it into each of your glasses and cheerfully chatting about the region it came from. You didn’t hear a single word, too focused on the way Jimin studiously avoided your stare, on the noticeable flush that had risen up his neck and was fanning across his cheeks. It was only after you apologetically asked for more time for your meal orders—your mind too frazzled to pick something on the spot—that he left again. Jimin took a long swig from his wineglass.

“Sorry,” he murmured, still not looking at you. “I probably should have let you know my intention beforehand, but I was nervous you wouldn’t come, or I’d chicken out of doing it, or—”

“Your intention?” you parroted dazedly. 

Another generous swallow of wine, the liquid courage coaxing his eyes to meet yours. “I wanted to take you out somewhere really nice,” he admitted. “Show you a good time and work up the nerve to properly ask you out again.”

“On a. Date?” Your lashes fluttered, an involuntary response to your brain short-circuiting. “With me.”

His lips twitched. “Yes, with you, silly.”

“Why?”

“You’re really going to make me say it? Before our food gets here?” He was fiddling with his napkin, but despite his clear nervousness, his gaze was now unwavering and his voice was clear. “Because I like you, _____. I have for a long time.”

These were words that you had only heard him whisper in your wildest dreams, when your subconscious thoughts were no longer being restrained by your common sense. And as such, you could only gape at him, sure you were about to wake up any second.

Your unintentional silence triggered Jimin’s tongue into overdrive, and you could only struggle to make sense of his rambling as he proceeded to tell you how much your friendship meant to him and how he was afraid confessing how he felt would affect it, but he just couldn’t take it anymore. How his feelings for you were growing by the day, and the recent time spent away from you was maddening and only confirmed to him how much he wanted to be with you. And so he felt he had to at least put it out there and try.

And the longer he talked, the more your eyes welled up with horrified tears, panic gripping you by the throat and squeezing, tight, tight.

This was nothing short of a nightmare. 

You would have never agreed to your arrangement with the Kims if you had thought in a million years Jimin would have ever been a serious option for you. 

Absolutely not. You would have swallowed your pride, maybe taken that loan from Tae instead. Would have also taken as many odd jobs as you could to pay him back, would have forgone sleep completely and struggled ten times more than you were now just so you could pay off your debts. Hell, you would have even just fucking dropped out. Would have taken the semester off and attempted to come back whenever you could scrounge up the appropriate funds. 

But never, never ever, would you have done what you had done. 

Because now, not only were you contractually unable to be with the man you’ve—in an attempt at self-preservation—refused to acknowledge you were in love with, but even if you found some legal way to quit now…there was zero chance Jimin would still want you when he knew. Less than zero. And you couldn’t blame him for that, because who would?

Beyond overwhelmed, you did the only sensible thing you could in that moment—you burst into tears.

Your sudden sniveling immediately halted Jimin’s rambling, eyes wide in alarm and looking every bit as distressed as you. “Ah—don’t cry!” He leaned over the table, cradling your face in his hands and swiping your tears with his thumbs. “You don’t have to feel the same way, _____. I’ll get over it, please don’t cry—”

“No,” you blubbered, beyond miserable. He couldn’t be more wrong. “I do! Jimin, I feel exactly the same way, I just…” Your eyes welled up anew, unable to tell him the truth. “I c-can’t.” 

“You can’t?” he repeated, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. His eyes roved your face for any possible answers, nibbling slightly on his bottom lip in thought. “…Is this…” His thumbs were still caressing your cheeks, gaze gentle and open as he quickly glanced around to see if anyone was paying the two of you any attention. When it was clear no one was giving your table more than a few curious glances, he said quieter, “…Is this about the arrangement you have with Tae?”

Everything froze. Your eyes locked, Jimin patiently waiting for your reply. Hysteria trickled through your veins, held only a bay by the disbelief slamming into you harder than a freight train. “W-What arrangement?” you blurted reflexively, a touch too loudly to be believable. 

It was Jimin’s turn be caught off guard, hands slowly dropping from your face and returning to his side of the table, though he was still leaned over it so he could still whisper to you, “You know.” He looked at you pointedly, mouth downturning a bit in his confusion. “With him and his brothers. The arrangement.” 

Jesus Christ, this was not happening. There was no way that this was actually happening to you. There was no way that the man who unknowingly held your heart in the palm of his hand was fully aware that you were fucking his best friend for money. Deny, deny! “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

He didn’t say anything for a few moments, still visibly puzzled. But the two of you only sat in an awkward silence for a few more moments before he snapped his fingers, a light bulb clearly going off. “Ah! You can’t say anything because you signed an NDA, right?” 

You swallowed thickly, unable do anything more in that very moment than stupidly stare at him like a deer in the headlights. 

“I’m sorry, that was stupid of me,” Jimin chuckled, smacking his forehead for good measure. “I don’t know why I didn’t realize that sooner. Obviously you’re under NDA.” 

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. Weren’t sure from the gentle smile he was now sending you if he even expected a response from you. Luckily, Jimin kept talking. 

“But it’s okay—I already know everything, so you don’t have to hide it,” he reassured you. You didn’t feel assured. You felt like you were in the Twilight Zone. “Taehyung told me about your agreement when you started it months ago.”

If you were flustered before, that was nothing on what you were feeling now. Now, half-thoughts were ricocheting across your brain too quickly for you to grasp anything of substance but your internal screeching. “You know everything?” you repeated incredulously. This time it was you who leaned over the table, meeting him in the middle. “Taehyung told you?!”

“Of course he did!” Color rebloomed across his cheeks, but he didn’t shy away from the bewildered stare down you were giving him. “He’s my best friend and he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t be stepping on any toes. He…knows how I feel about you.” When you only continued to stare at him, he nervously added, “Who do you think got me the reservation for this place to begin with? The waitlist is literally a year out.”

“I’m sorry, I just—” You pulled back so you could reach for your wineglass, allowing yourself a few healthy sips to give your mouth something to do other than flap about like an idiot while you stalled. Jimin didn’t call you out on it, just waited patiently and topped off your glass when you set it back down again. 

You took a few steadying breaths, ultimately choosing to lean back closer to Jimin. To the casual onlooker, the two of you were just another couple making heart eyes over a romantic dinner. And considering the rather lewd and illegal turn your conversation had just taken in this very public place, that only worked in your favor. “Let me get this straight,” you whispered, carefully choosing your words in case you still managed to garner an unwanted audience. “Taehyung told you the deal he has with me. Months ago.” Jimin nodded. “And you’ve known this entire time about our…arrangement, but never told me you knew.”

“I swear I didn’t at all mean to keep that a secret,” he murmured, expression contrite. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or embarrass you or anything like that, so I’ve just been waiting on you to bring it up at your own pace. But I didn’t take into account that you would never bring it up because you would be under NDA, which, again, now that I say it out loud was an extremely stupid assumption of me not to make. I’m sorry.”

“So. You have feelings for me,” you reiterated, ignoring the delighted shiver that raced up your spine at the words. You had to be sure. “But it didn’t bother you that your best friend…propositioned me? You have no problem with me being…involved with him and his brothers?”

“You were caught between a rock and a hard place and the grind never stops. You know I know that better than anybody,” he replied with a shrug. He swallowed, discreetly ensuring no one was paying the two of you any attention before he added, “You think you’re the only one who’s sucked dick for money?”

Your eyes widened, jaw dropping a little before you could catch it. Was he…implying what you thought he was implying? There was no way. You had to be reading into it. 

But ultimately, all of this was irrelevant. When the ghost of Seokjin’s mouth on you came to you unbidden—the phantom weight of Taehyung’s body, the haunting reprimand of Namjoon’s stern hand—

You shook your head, unsuccessfully dispelling those unwanted, lingering thoughts. Your gaze skirted to the table, despondent and embarrassed as you finally set free your hushed admission. “Jimin, I’ve done more than suck dick for my money.” 

There was a pause, an agonizing one that felt like an eternity, and then he was lifting your chin with a finger and guiding you to meet his eyes.

“Again.” He reached for your hands, thumb tracing patterns over your knuckles. His smile was a soft secret. “You think you’re the only one?” 

He held your gaze, not looking away even though your mouth just flapped uselessly as you struggled to regain your bearings. So he did mean—

“Does knowing that bother you?” Jimin asked quietly, expression now carefully neutral. Seriously asking, and giving you the proper space to process and answer. “Does it change anything?”

“No.” The truth, though delayed, left you as easily as a breath. He was still Jimin. “Of course not.”

Jimin’s resulting grin turned his eyes into crescents. “Soooo…what I’m hearing is that we’re clearly on the same page and are both Team Fuck Bitches, Get Money.” 

Boy, did you wish you could smile back. Wish you could share in his obvious relief. But while you assumed his exploits were in the past, the same couldn’t be said for you, who was actively under contract. “Jimin, I’m still…employed,” you couldn’t help but point out. “And still will be for a while. That really doesn’t bother you?”

“It really doesn’t,” he insisted. But your continued hesitance had him pulling back from you, hands busying themselves with reaching for his wineglass as he carefully asked, “Should it? Is there something else I should know?” A couple sips of wine to steel himself before a  cautious, “Do you have feelings for any of them?”

“No!” you blurted. Despite the amount of time and intimacy you had been spending with the Kims, romantic feelings had never even crossed your mind. Your pussy certainly felt some things when she was getting some action, but your heart had never gotten involved. Your heart was too busy crowding in your throat at that very moment, threatening to fling itself at the man in front of you.

Jimin took your sincerity for what it was, a pleased twist to his lips. “Then it’s all fine with me. And again, Tae’s been aware from the beginning that I’ve been intending to ask you out, so that expectation has been there since the beginning. All three of them agreed to the deal knowing that I might be in the picture if I ever decided to put my big boy pants on and tell you how I feel. They’ve been expecting it, so they’re cool with it.”

“They’re cool with it,” you parroted blankly, completely flabbergasted. This was absolutely not how you foresaw this night going, and you never would have thought your life would ever take a turn like this in a million years. “They’re cool with it, and so are you?”

“I don’t mind sharing your time,” he shrugged. “So long as I’m not sharing you.”

“And you don’t see that as the same thing in this…situation?” you asked incredulously. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

Jimin puffed out an amused laugh. “Wow, you really are trying to talk me out of this, huh?”

You waved your hands. “Absolutely not, that is the last thing I want! I just. I come with a lot of baggage, and I don’t want any of it to come as a surprise. As busy as I’ve been the last couple weeks? That’s becoming a reoccurring normal. And Jimin, I just feel really shitty.” You swallowed. “Because I can’t promise you everything that you deserve to be promised right now.”

Jimin’s face softened as he listened to you, visibly much more comfortable now that you had successfully reassured him just how badly you wanted this. And oh, did you want it. You weren’t sure how this could ever work, but god did you want it to.

“Not fair,” he repeated under his breath, eyes glazed over in thought. “Hmmm.” 

“Is there anything I could do?” you hedged. You weren’t really sure what that could possibly be, considering the ironclad situation you were in. But now that you had been given a glimmer of your heart’s desire, you couldn’t let it fade away. Not if you could help it.  

His reply wasn’t immediate, still lost in thought. But when his eyes finally refocused on you, smoldering and intense, you couldn’t help the way your breath caught in response, the way your heart quickened. “Here’s an idea of what we can do to make it fair. What if you continue to work for them, just as you are now. And then…” 

He was thoughtlessly swirling his wineglass, momentum pulling the ruby liquid into slow, circling waves that would be rather hypnotizing if you weren’t already caught in the snare of his gaze. When he leaned across the table again, the way you followed suit was as easy as breathing. A lovesick sailor willingly lured to possible danger by a siren’s song. “Whatever you do for them, you do for me. How does that sound?” 

You let out a soft breath, just the thought of it immediately electrifying your every atom. Sparks danced excitedly beneath your skin, his soft, sultry tone curling your toes in their shoes. 

“Fair.”

His Adam’s apple dipped excitedly, lips parting.

“So sorry to interrupt,” someone suddenly said from beside you. It was the waiter again. You had completely forgotten about him. Completely forgotten everything other than the restless tap of Jimin’s fingers against the table. “I just wanted to check in to see if you were ready to order?” 

“Yes, I think so.” You didn’t look away from Jimin—still hadn’t even glanced at the menu. Your tongue swiped over your lips, and his gaze darkened in response. 

“But I think we’d like it to go.”

chapters⇢ previous | series masterlist

[embrosegraves]

𝕎𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕎𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝔹𝕖, 𝕎𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝔹𝕖

(request) Max Verstappen x ftm!Driver!Reader (he/they) I named the child Peter :P

Warnings: pregnancy, talks of mental health, crying. Let me know if I missed any <3

Max could tell that there was something bothering you. He prided himself on being able to tell when his loving partner was stressed because that meant that he could help you. Throughout the whole day Max found himself struggling to think of what could possibly be the reason for your stress. It was possible that it was because being both a parent and an F1 Driver was a difficult thing to do. But you had assured Max months ago that you loved being both. 

Could it be because your son, Peter, was at the beginning of the ‘Terrible Twos’? It was possible but wasn’t the most likely. By the time you were both back in your hotel room, Peter sleeping peacefully on the middle of the hotel bed, Max was almost as stressed as you were. 

“Schat?” Max called to you. You had spent the last 30 minutes in the bathroom and he was getting more worried every second. 

You walked out of the bathroom, still in shock about the news you found out this morning. How were you going to tell Max? It was hard enough the first time around. You look at Max as you walk towards him. 

“What’s up Lovie?” 

“I should be asking you that, Y/n/n.” He took your hands in his and gently sat you both on the couch at the end of the bed. “You’ve been stressed about something all day and for the life of me I can not figure it out.”

“Max-” You went to reply but Max was in his own world asking you more questions. 

“Is your period bothering you? I know you told me that you still get them. Are the cramps worse than usual? Do you need some medicine? I can go get some if you need-”

“Max.” This time your voice was more firm, something that Max caught onto instantly. It was only slightly different to the voice you used when Peter was misbehaving and you needed to get his attention. “Max it’s not- it’s not my period.” 

“Oh. Well, that’s good? Right?”

You sighed before turning to fully face Max on the couch. You gripped his hands tighter before you spoke. You knew you had to tell him.

“The problem is that it’s not my period. I was supposed to start on my period around three days ago, but I didn’t. I only just noticed last night before bed. I thought that maybe it was just an irregular period, but then I thought about how my cycle was before we found out about Peter. I took a test this morning and- and-” 

You couldn’t continue. Thankfully Max was smart enough to know what you were trying to tell him. Before Peter was born, you and Max had decided that you would be a One and Done family. It made sense at the time, what with you constantly fighting the thoughts in your head saying that maybe you were faking your identity. You had never wanted to go through that ever again. Yet here you were, telling him that you were pregnant with another baby Verstappen. 

Upon realising that he hadn’t said anything yet, Max bundled you into his arms and held you tight. It was exactly the reassurance you needed before you started to cry. Shushing you gently, Max started to softly stroke your hair. 

“We will figure this out Y/n. I promise you that.” Max was never a person that showed his emotions often, but he couldn’t help the tears that began gathering in his eyes. “We will survive this. When we get back home, I’ll schedule an appointment for you. Just in case this is a false positive.”

“What if it’s not?” You croaked out, voice hoarse from crying. 

Max didn’t once stop stroking your hair as he spoke. “If it’s not a false positive then I will help you get through this. I can call the therapist we used for Peter’s pregnancy and we can start going again. I don’t ever want you to feel uncomfortable so if this is something you find out you don’t want, I will find a way to fix it.” 

Your sniffles had died down by now, but Max had no intention of letting you go from his arms. You had told him years ago that you always felt safest when in his arms and Max would rather die than let you feel unsafe when you were vulnerable. 

“Max…” 

“Yes, Liefde?” 

“The pregnancy test wasn’t the only thing I was thinking about today…” 

“What else was worrying you?” Max asked, confused. He hadn’t thought that your visible stress from the day had been because of two different things. Looking back now, it should have been obvious that there was more than one thing on your mind. 

You hesitated to tell him. This thought that had been occupying a large portion of your mind lately was arguably harder to speak out loud than telling him that you were pregnant was. 

“You don’t have to worry about how I’ll react. I promise you that nothing you say will upset me.” Sometimes you hated how Max knew the exact thing to tell you in every situation. 

“I think I’m going to retire soon.”

“Okay.” 

You raised your head sharply, almost hitting the bottom of Max’s chin in the process. 

“Okay?” 

Max nodded and looked you directly in your eyes for a second before moving the hair away from your forehead and gazing at the rest of your face. 

“If you feel like you need to retire, then you retire. I’ll support our family and I will make sure that none of us could ever want for anything.” 

Your eyes started to water. You placed your hands on either side of his face and pulled him into a deep kiss. Max’s eyes fluttered closed as you pulled him in. Breaking apart for some air, Max rested your foreheads together. 

It was quiet for a while before he broke the silence. 

“I will always look after you. I never want you to feel like you are at war with yourself. You will always be my handsome boy, Mijn Liefde. I will always be here to help you. I will take care of us. I promise you that.”

I hope you enjoyed <3 honestly this was so much fun to plan out and the write like I don't think I've ever enjoyed writing something this much i loved doing this

[propertyofsamcollins]

"You see strength in my weakness"

Sam/Darlin' fic

796 words

A/n: Guess who finally finished a fic🤭 it took me way too long to finish this. I started months ago, but anywhooo, I hope you enjoy.

Darlin’ was nervous, and Sam could see it.

While they didn’t talk about their feelings much, Sam had learned that they expressed them with their body language.

The way they kept fiddling with the rings that adorned their hands, the continuous bouncing of their leg, all pieces of body language that Sam had realized the meaning to over the years.

“Darlin’, you alright? you look like something is eatin’ at you.” Sam asked, effectively breaking his mate out of whatever trance they seemed to be caught in.

“Hm? Oh, yeah I’m okay, just thinking...” They murmured, trailing off at the end, seeming to be caught in whatever loop of thoughts they were in.

“Thinking about what? If you don’t mind me asking,” Sam whispered, not wanting to disturb them too much.

Darlin’ looked up at Sam but stayed silent for a moment, as if weighing their options. Questioning whether they should tell him the thoughts running circles in their mind.

“There's just…” Darlin’ paused for a second. “There’s something I wanna say, but…i uh, i don’t know how to say it”

Sam smiled at that. Though he hated watching them struggle, he loved seeing how much they’d grown in the past 2 years. “Take as much time as you need Darlin’, there's no rush.” Sam stated, smiling, before cupping their face in his hands “I'd wait a thousand lifetimes for you.” And he smiled again, not that he’d stopped, but somehow, it looked brighter. Like the warm sun that he could no longer sit under, it was poetic in a way.

Darlin sat there for a second, simmering in their thoughts. They wanted to tell him just how much they cared for him, they felt they hadn’t expressed it much in the time they’d spent together, unlike Sam who was perfectly okay with reminding them just how much he loved them.

“I just…I appreciate you a lot, y’know?” They paused, looking up at their mate for some sort of confirmation, and Sam nodded, with the loving look in his eye he always seemed to have when staring at them.

“You,” they hesitated for a moment “You let me be weak, and you see strength in it, a lot of people don’t do that, and it means a lot to me” they whispered, voice wavering a bit, the vulnerability they felt at the moment was a lot, but they’d bare with it for him.

They’d do anything for him

Sam cocked his head to the side, a habit he’d picked up after spending so much time with the pack, and Darlin’ smiled at that, a small sense of pride filling them. “I appreciate you too, but I don’t really understand what you mean by ‘I see strength in your weakness’,” the vampire paused for a second, as if he was trying to figure it out himself, “Do you think you could tell me what you mean?” Sam almost whispered softly, his hand coming up to cup their face, while his thumb traced patterns onto their face.

“Well, it’s hard to explain,” Darlin whispered back, “But, basically, when most people see you weak, they tend to forget that you’re still strong.” the shifter explained, “And a lot of people start to treat you like porcelain, even when you don’t need it.” darlin’ paused, gathering their thoughts again, “Like, yeah it was nice when I was crying my eyes out, but I don’t need you to treat me like a piece of glass anymore, y’know?” darlin asked, and Sam nodded.

“Yeah, it’s like once they see you in a bad moment, they treat you like a child having a breakdown,” Sam paraphrased, it made sense to him, and he could definitely see how someone like Darlin’ wouldn’t like that. He knew they were strong, and he treated them as such.

“Exactly!” the shifter exclaimed, practically jumping out of their seat at the prospect of someone finally understanding what they were saying. “I can’t stand it when people do that shit, it irks my nerves.” they huffed, and Sam laughed, nodding along.

The two sat in a comfortable silence, holding eye contact with each other. A smile on both their faces.

“But…” the shifter hesitated again, “You don’t do that,” darlin muttered, smiling a little wider, “You see my weakness, and view it as proof that I’m strong, instead of dismissing my strength.” they whispered, “And I really appreciate it, so, thank you.” they finished, still looking at their mate, staring at Sam like he held the world in those beautiful silver eyes of his.

“Always, Darlin’, always.”

[who-do-i-know-this-man]

I made a mistake. Several actually. Several very severe mistakes. And this post isn't meant to make it all ok, I have accepted that many are rightfully mad at me, but I do hope that I can at least have some context to the mistakes I made and why I made them.

First let me say that I am privileged. That much is true. I am a white man in the american suburbs. I have the luxury of not only not being personally affected by many social issues but not even having to witness them. But I still want to be a good person. And part of that is learning about these social issues by talking and interacting with people online. But I'm still not perfect. I'm barely an adult and I have a lot of growing to do as a person. And hopefully with this in mind it will make some of the mistakes I will go over just a bit more understandable.

Back in mid march I made the submissions post for this blog, and did not expect to get as many as I did. I then spent a month taking as many submissions as I could and putting them in a list. All in all I ended up with over 2000 characters. From that alone it should be understandable why I couldn't research every one before releasing the bracket. I even ended up with many mistakes like incorrect labeling and duplicate characters.

However the first true mistake came later. I was making the poll posts themselves and I got to Lance. I knew I should have done something at the time but I didn't exactly know what. It was one poll and I was doing 16 polls per day minimum, but ideally double that so that I could have a backlog of posts. So I didn't spend as much time thinking about the issue as I should have and the conclusion I came to was that at the end of the day it was a fictional character, and if I properly content warning it it will be fine. Anyone who is sensitive to that imagery can block it. This is largely where my ignorance came in. While it may sound improbable to those who do know more I promise you I genuinely thought that I was doing no harm. And while I won't lie and say I am now a master in the topic now I do have a better understanding of the harm that this decision caused. Additionally my pride got to me. I am very proud of having "the biggest bracket on tumblr" but I had already had quite a few be disqualified for being duplicates or real people, so I didn't want to make the bracket any smaller and lose prestige. This was far from the main reason I kept him in, but it was morally wrong.

People's response to the original poll was mixed. There were people who immediately asked me to remove him, but others were on my side in saying that he should stay since he's a fictional character and his morals don't matter. So I defaulted to the stance I already had, and did nothing. This was a mistake. Above all else I should have prioritized everyone feeling safe and comfortable on my blog.

But the last night it was about an hour later then I should have been asleep and my brain was incredibly stupid, and things started to go down hill. I got the first ask in a while about Lance, and I decided to put an end to the issue. My way of doing this was doing a poll. In my mind this was my way of accounting for my ignorance. I don't know much about how severe this issue is, so I'll put it in the hands of people who did.

This poll also got mixed results. Some said I should just have the conviction to eliminate him myself, but others brought up things about that character I didn't know, like how he apparently has a character arc of learning fascism is bad, or that he has other visuals where he's wearing different outfits. I also got messages from fans of the series who thanked me for giving the character a chance. This made me feel comfortable in being a "neutral party". However with the notes I felt that I should "do this right" which unfortunately led to me doing the exact opposite.

I deleted the original poll, where 70% were in favor of disqualifying him. I didn't think it was a big deal since it had only been up a few minutes, but this was yet another mistake. I made a new poll, which included info that had been told to me since the previous poll. But the problem was that what I had actually written was not good. It was almost midnight at this point, so while I tried to remain a "neutral party" I ended up having the info show a very clear bias. And considering the character in question, people began to wonder why I was trying so hard to keep him in the poll. This led to many replies on the poll that began to overwhelm me. I was starting to realize the mistakes I had made and just how deep of a pit I had dug myself in. I panicked. I turned off replies and deleted all the ones on that were on the poll so that I could say everything I wanted to say interrupted. This backfired, and led to people going to the reblogs instead. And me deleting all the replies looked BAD. While I was trying to get the things I wanted to say out the post had spread. Spread even outside of the people who normally know this account. People who knew nothing of the history and structure of this blog, who thought that I had seen a character who was a Nazi and thought "sure come right in" and I was now trying desperately to keep him in.

This understandably made people very mad when that was their perception. Many many people were saying terrible hurtful things to me. Their heart was in the right place but even now I do not agree with the kind of harassment some stooped to. At this point I was in a full blown panic attack. Every bit of damage control dug me deeper into the pit. I decided that I needed to deal with this situation with a clear head so that I didn't make more mistakes in a panic. I deleted the poll about Lance's elimination and went to bed.

That brings us to this morning. I have announced that Lance is disqualified, and deleted the original poll containing him. I promise you all that I will try my hardest to prevent anything like this from happening again on my blog. I want to make things as right as I can. And I hope now you all will believe me when I say that I am not a Nazi, or an antisemite, I'm just a privileged idiot who made some dumb mistakes.

[lauralot89]

Loveless

I'm late on this because the book was published in 2020, but I only heard about it in the last month when I was reading an article about asexuality in fiction but in case anyone is out of the loop like me let me tell you about this glory

Loveless is a YA novel by Alice Oseman, author of Heartstopper and Solitaire. It tells the story of Georgia Warr, freshman at Durham University, and her realization that while she's in love with the idea of romance, the actuality of a romantic/sexual relationship repulses her.

Alice Oseman herself is aroace, which makes perfect sense because throughout the novel I kept asking myself, "How does she know? How does she know?! How did she get these thoughts out of my head?"

for my fellow ace and/or aro people, let me quote some of the lines that just got me straight in the soul:

"I had a theory that a lot of people's "celebrity crushes" were just faked to fit in."

"I was disgusted by the thought of him near me. Wanting things from me. That wasn't normal, was it?"

"Oh, God, this thing is actually real, it's not just in fanfics and movies. And I'm supposed to be doing it too."

"Did I even know what romantic feelings felt like?"

"He was clearly the sort of person who I should like romantically. Who I could like romantically. He looked like a boyfriend. I loved his personality. I'd loved his personality for years. So I could fall in love with him. With a little bit of effort. Definitely."

"I thought I'd understood what all these romantic things would feel like--butterflies and the spark and just knowing when you liked someone. I'd read about these feelings hundreds of times in books and fanfic. I'd watched way more romcoms than was probably normal for an eighteen-year-old. But now I was starting to wonder whether these things were just made up."

"Straight people don't think shit like that."

"Just because I'd never liked anyone didn't mean I never would. Did it?"

"I thought all the movies were exaggerating, but you're all really out there just craving genitals and embarrassment. This has to be some kind of huge joke."

"How could I feel so sad about giving up these things that I did not actually want?"

"I felt like I was grieving. I was grieving this fake life, a fantasy future that I was never going to live."

"How was it fair that everyone got to feel that except me?"

"I never had any crushes when I was a child. Not any real ones, anyway. Sometimes I confused friendships for them, or just thinking a guy was really cool."

"For a long time, I was just dating and having sex because that's what people did. And I wanted to feel like those people."

"You've been so confused about stuff. You really thought we could be together, because you do love me. Not in a romantic way, but just as strongly."

"Oh. This is an asexual thing. I forgot other people are obsessed with having sex."

seriously the entire time I spent with this book I just kept asking "was this written for me specifically?" because that's exactly how it felt.

It is a gorgeous book that explores that bizarre feeling of not knowing the word for what you are, not even knowing that you are something out of the ordinary because we don't define ourselves by what we lack and we just expect that one day, it'll happen and we'll be like everyone else. That struggle of trying to differentiate between loving someone and being in love with them, and trying to make the former into the latter and hurting everything in the process.

It is so good. 10/10, no complaints

also there's an asshole in the university's queer pride group who doesn't think aces belong and everyone hates him so that's fantastic, aphobes fuck off

in conclusion I highly recommend it

[wordsandrobots]

So I've never seen anyone badmouth Gaelio as often as you, besides the ones that rightfully complain that he shouldn't have come back. Not that I wholly disagree, but what are your reasons?

Oh, anon. No, no, no. No, you have to understand, I *adore* Gaelio. He's perfect, vengeance arc and all. He is my absolute favourite chew toy. I wouldn't have spent so long writing fanfic focused on what happens to him, mentally speaking, post-canon if I didn't love the obnoxious lavender-tousled prick to death.

Gaelio Bauduin is a man fucked over by his social position, a sweet kid scarred by having been born into an aristocracy, who nevertheless retains enough of a moral compass to change for the better. He learns. He grows. He cares for those closest to him with an earnestness that belies his snobbish, flippant attitude. He genuinely, uncomplicatedly commits to justice and loyalty in ways his upbringing ought by rights to have beaten out of him.

He is additionally the single biggest reason the story ends as badly as it does, on account of being the most hideously self-absorbed dipstick on the face of the solar system.

(Second most hideously self-absorbed, we do have to factor in Iok.)

In another story, Gaelio's gradual dawning realisation that the attitudes he was taught are bullshit would be a process of redemption. His experiences with Ein, his compassion towards Carta, his vitriolic semi-mentor/semi-friend relationship with Julieta, his apology to Mikazuki -- these are the markers of someone learning to be a better person. In another story, he'd be learning to be a hero.

But in this story, his slow personal journey isn't what's important. What matters is how it interacts with a world too cynical to run on heroic narratives. Elion uses him as a political wedge. Tekkadan do not give a rat's arse about what he thinks. McGillis allows no room for an epiphany concerning their friendship until it is far, far too late. In imagining the scales had fallen from his eyes, he railroaded himself into the biggest screw-up of his life.

It's not completely his fault. As I said, he's used and rejected by others, and McGillis did have a damn good go at murdering him. But if he had been slightly more open-minded, slightly more willing to put his money where his mouth was when it came to his disapproval of Gjallarhorn's actions, and slightly less prone to making everything about his feelings -- well maybe he wouldn't have ended a broken, wistful shell of his former self, voluntarily disabling himself and regretting everything he didn't understand.

It's *beautiful*. Seriously. The tenor of your question leads me to believe I should restate my opinion that Iron-Blooded Orphans is a near-perfectly executed tragedy. When I say Gaelio is 'Always Wrong (TM)', I mean that is the part he plays in the tale. The man who makes every possible mistake he could in the course of getting exactly what he thought he wanted. It's a narrative role and he is a fantastic way of filling it because unlike Iok (who exists entirely as a hate-sink), Gaelio *does* have redeeming characteristics. He's loyal and principled. Passionate and determined. Able to adjust his world-view based on his experiences. Ultimately capable of swallowing his pride and admitting he was wrong.

And it doesn't matter one single jot. Things still end in flames, not just in spite of his attempts to do right by those he accidentally doomed but because of those actions.

Also he's a melodramatic brat who canonically used to flirt using Norse mythology, repeatedly injured people on his own side by mistake, got his arse handed to him by children (again, repeatedly), adopted the most on-theme moniker he could while wearing a doofy mask for months on end, and spent Season 1 with a crush on the world's least-hinged cop-brained class-traitor. I denigrate his character in precise proportion to which it is presented as lamentable.

Anyway, to lay off the verbosity for a minute, please also understand that if my opinion on a character is negative in the sense of 'I think the writers fucked this up', I'm unlikely to spend much time creatively cussing them out. For instance, to pick another Gundam example, I don't enjoy Shinn from SEED:Destiny. I get what the writing is going for with him and I think it's a neat plot concept, but I find the actual result grating. It's the same for a lot of the cast. Overall, I just don't rate that show very highly. So I don't talk about it, and I don't expend effort to dig into narrative roles, how characters come across, what that means for other parts of the story, etc. To put it bluntly, it's not worth my time, especially when there are people who *do* like SEED and don't need me raining on their parade.

But I enjoy watching Gaelio and that's exactly why I bad-mouth him. It's more than a passing joke; it's part and parcel of what I love about how Gaelio is implemented, that he's that much of an aristocratic nitwit, and that even when he's making moves towards the broadly 'good' end of the moral spectrum, he's still got a deeply hierarchical attitude. This is a man who, in the middle of quite understandably wanting to get back at somebody who tried to assassinate him, reflects on enjoying being in the heat of battle again after having just beaten-up/killed a bunch of workers trying to break free of colonial rule. There is a *lot* you can dig into about what (and who) Gaelio sees as important and how his attitudes are a perpetual work-in-progress, constrained both by his assumptions and by the alliances he has to make in order to pursue his revenge.

It's well executed, as I said, and I happen to find it extremely compelling. Certainly more so than if he hadn't been resurrected because the show-runners liked his voice actor's performance.

[ironinkpen]

god i’m so obsessed w Delloso de la Rue and yeah, I’ll say it: they’re right about everything

I think discussions I’ve seen about Rue’s position of “privilege” often fail to contend with the fact that Rue experiences this world as a kidnapping victim. Rue is not an archfey. They were taken from the mortal world as a young child. From what we’ve seen about how Wanessa is treated like an oddity/fascination, we can guess that Rue was treated much the same. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Rue became a party planner—when you are brought to a world as entertainment, I suspect you grow up terrified of what might happen if you stop being entertaining. 

Rue has existed on the outskirts of the Court of Wonder for years. Forced (whether literally or just by social pressure) to wear a glamor—scared of anyone even touching their HAND for fear of being found out. Do you think Rue has ever danced at the Blooms they’ve spent millennia planning, or was this year the first time?

Claiming Rue is oblivious to the plight of other, lesser fey ignores the fact that Rue is ultimately a worker—not a true aristocrat like the Lords of the Wing. They have a job—they plan the Bloom. Yes, they have political power, but not due to being high-born or playing the political game or all that; they have political power because they’re popular, because they dedicated themself to the happiness of others for millennia, connecting people of different courts together, bringing people love and joy. And I doubt they even realize just how powerful they are, because they spend most of their time away from their court, planning a fucking party.

Everyone calls them the “pride” of a court they barely see. They are assumed to speak for them, even when they are speaking their own mind. Of course they have no loyalty to the Court system. Of course they don’t see the point in anything except love—love they themself have been robbed of, were stolen away from. Rue’s bardic inspiration is a song they remember from the mortal plane. Isn’t it telling that even thousands of years later, their magic—magic, which Andhera and Binx both describe as stemming from love—comes from that faded memory of home?

Yes, it’s a bummer that Rue’s actions caused Hob’s victories to be undermined a bit, but honestly? Why should we really care about the political advancement of the Goblin Court’s aristocracy, who have shown they are exactly the same as the Court of Wonder in their treatment of their subordinates (Hob standing away from the campfire, just as Rue is kept in a tower for months out of the year)? Rue might have hurt Hob by hiding the truth, but that doesn’t mean they’re wrong when they urge him to take care of himself, to abandon his loyalty to a system that won’t reward him for it. That’s not Rue being naive or privileged—that’s Rue being exactly like Hob, a servant of their court who toiled tirelessly for years, sacrificing their own happiness, only to just now realize how pointless it all was.

And honestly, on the more political side, Rue probably saved everyone’s asses by breaking up the marriage between Grabalba and Apollo. Apollo would for sure have used the Goblins’ military might to accelerate his plans of stealing the magic. And then, once that was achieved, do you really think he would have honored his agreements with the Goblin Court? He’s the kind of dishonorable man who tried to murder Hob in secret. You’re telling me he wouldn’t have double crossed them once he got what he wanted? Why would he give a shit about a political marriage? 

Like, for real: why would Apollo want to marry Grabalba? We know the Goblin Court’s status would be MASSIVELY elevated by this union, but what advantage does the Court of Wonder gain from marrying into the Goblin Court? It was all military—another power grab by Wonder. Rue broke it up and probably saved the fey realm in the process. 

And now they could lose someone they really love over it. 

[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day Twenty-Seven: Touch Starved @rowaelinscourt

Link to Month Masterlist

Guess who is back on her regularly scheduled angsty angst? It’s me. 

Warnings: mentions of a arent death. Hurt/comfort in the form of grief.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

All Your Ways, All Your Thunder

The changing seasons always had a way of leaving a brand of melancholy on Rowan’s soul.  He never knew exactly what it was or why it came, but when the days began to grow shorter and cooler…Rowan’s own mood would shift completely and he found himself drowning in the past.

No matter what he did or how he prepared--he never was ready for it to happen.

He didn’t know who he could talk to or how he could explain it.  He’d never been allowed to express these thoughts, his feelings when he was growing up.  His da had never been the emotional type and his mother always thought he was the perfect child who never struggled.  And as he’d grown up, trying to express himself and actually talk had never come easily.  

And today with that distinct chill crawling through the air and the fact that it was the two-year anniversary of his da passing—Rowan figured it was as good a day as any to wallow.  That’s what people did, wasn’t it?  They’d let themselves collapse beneath the weight of it all and dwell on how miserable things had become.  And then the feelings would pass and it would be alright.

So, Rowan returned to his apartment after a particularly long day at work and dropped onto his couch as he waited for the past to wash over him.

Only…it never came.

He could feel it burrowed beneath his chest, right next to his heart.  And slowly it leeched into his lungs.  But all it did was linger right on the cusp of his brain.

And all there was, was silence.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, sprawled out on the couch with one arm thrown over his head.  But it was long enough for the shadows of the living room to shift and the room to darken.  He knew he should get up and eat dinner.  Maybe he’d order take out so he wouldn’t have to think about anything or actually get up.

What he did know was that he had to do something to fix this mood.  It wouldn’t do well to wallow in his own misery.

Sighing, Rowan fumbled for his phone that had dropped on the floor.  He found there was already a missed message from Aelin that had him loosing a breath of relief.

>>Aelin: i hate fenrys

>>Aelin: he stole the chocolate i was saving for after my meeting with maeve this afternoon

>>Aelin: and ate it in front of me

>>Aelin: may end up murdering him

Rowan smiled at the messages, already feeling better at just seeing her name.  It was simple, and maybe a little stupid, but he could feel the wariness of the day sifting away.

Another message came in.

>>Aelin: what r you doing tonight?

He could lie and tell her he was busy.  Caught up in case notes or meetings.  Or say he was at the gym. Or--

<<Rowan: nothing 

<<Rowan: come over?

>>Aelin: be there in twenty.

…

In the five years of knowing Aelin Galathynius, four of those had been spent in animosity.  Between her arrogance, his pride, and the underlying mutual hatred that bloomed from nothing more than meeting at the wrong time—Rowan and Aelin could never manage to stand in the same room together, let alone have a civil conversation

Until one night with too much alcohol and just enough loosened inhibitions.  It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than that.  They’d said it wouldn’t happen again, that they’d both been lonely, the tequila was to blame.

And then it did.  

After six months of sneaking around, they’d almost gotten caught a few times.  And considering how stubborn they both were, they didn’t want to admit to their friends that they were dating.  If that was what you’d call this.  Rowan wasn’t seeing anyone else and he knew she wasn’t either.  They spent most weekends together and texted entirely too much.  But they’d never labeled what they were.  And it had never really bothered Rowan, hell his track record with relationships was a joke that labels were hardly worth it.

Eventually, Rowan forced himself off of the couch and managed to change into sweats and a t-shirt.  No use for Aelin seeing him in such a state.  He didn’t expect anything out of the night and knew that she didn’t either.  They’d eat and then end up watching Netflix or busting out the PlayStation.  Aelin was extremely competitive when it came to Mario Kart.

When Aelin arrived twenty-five minutes later, she let herself in using a key he had given her.  It had been a random thing he hadn’t thought about—she’d needed a place to stay while her apartment was getting renovations done and his place was closer to her work—and he’d just never asked for the key back.

“I brought pizza!” Aelin announced.  The heels she wore clicked soundly on the hardwood. “I know it’s not part of your meal plan, but it sounded good.”

Rowan, who found himself back on the couch, laughed humorlessly. “You got extra cheese, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” Aelin said. “And then I got that chicken and artichoke thing you like on thin crust.  Honestly, it’s not pizza at that point, buzzard.”

He watched as she set the pizza boxes on his kitchen table, kicking off her shoes so they were right in the middle of the floor.  Her tight, red pencil skirt hugged her curves perfectly, the black blouse hanging neatly and only emphasizing her golden skin.  Even on a random weekday, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“Maeve sent out assignments for that new project,” Aelin said as she grabbed plates and a roll of paper towels from the cupboard. “Stuck me with Kaltain and Graves.  So you know I’m going to get stuck with all the work.”

Rowan listened as she talked and bounced around the kitchen.  She was so at home being there, as if it were second nature to make sure the fridge shut properly or the one drawer didn’t catch when you opened it a certain way.

She portioned out a few slices for each of them and brought soda and the paper towel over to the couch with her.

“Thanks,” Rowan said, accepting his plate from her.

Aelin settled beside him, tucking her feet up on the coffee table.  Already she was taking a massive bite of her pepperoni and mushroom with extra cheese.  

“Howwasurda?” she asked around her mouthful of pizza.

Rowan rolled his eyes and threw a paper towel at her. “Fine.  Nothing terrible.”

In truth, most of the day was a blur.  He’d been so caught up in his own thoughts, his own worries, that he really hadn’t noticed if it had been good or bad.  Though, he’d left his office door closed and ignored his phone for most of it so that had to help.

Aelin pursed her lips but didn’t press the issue.

He knew he shouldn’t have invited her over if he wasn’t even going to try and talk to her, knew that just sitting in silence wasn’t her idea of a good time, but even just having her near was enough to make him feel better.

He knew he could have gone to the bar and Lorcan, Fenrys, and the others would have joined him without hesitation.  He would have gotten tipsy enough to forget what day it was and that would have been more than fine with him.  Today was not a day he wanted to endure sober, but he’d done it.  Forced to relive memory after memory of his dad and wonder what he could have done differently as a son.  It wasn’t a good spiral to go down and would have been much more enjoyable if accompanied by Fenrys doing something stupid to distract him or Lorcan who would just keep sliding him beer the moment he knew something was wrong.

“Hey,” Aelin whispered after a long stretched of silence.  She reached a hand across the couch to brush through his hair, clearing the messy strands from his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Unconsciously, Rowan leaned into touch.  It had only been two days since they’d last been together but her touch was so gentle and easy that he fell into it easily.

“Nothing,” he said, even though the lie was far to easy to spot.

“You had a bad day?” Her fingers trailed down his cheek to his jaw and it would have been so easy to melt against her.

He didn’t know how to tell her everything that was on his mind.  Didn’t want to say it was the anniversary of his dad passing or that he just wanted to touch her, to linger in this moment a little while longer.  It all just felt too heavy on his tongue, so Rowan shrugged in response.

Aelin didn’t seem to like that.  She gathered the empty plates and wadded up paper towels and tossed them onto the coffee table.  And then before Rowan could ask what she was doing, Aelin grabbed his arm and pulled him toward her.

“C’mere,” she said.  She made no room for arguments as she kept him close, curling against him even until her skirt and blouse were askew.

Aelin said nothing else as she wrapped her arms around him, one hand burrowing in his hair and the other running patterns against the skin of his neck.  She even hooked one knee around his hip until they were utterly flush against each other, curled on the couch in the dying light of dusk.

Rowan was certain he was smothering Aelin but she wouldn’t let him move.  All she did was continue to hold him, one hand ticking softly at the nape of his neck.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been held like this, the last time he’d felt this level of comfort.

“It’s alright,” Aelin murmured. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

She didn’t know it, but those were the exact words his mother had told him the day of the funeral, the day they’d gone to pick up his father’s ashes, the day they’d sat in the car staring out at the dense forest trying to decide how you mourned the end of a life and how you moved on from it.

Rowan couldn’t help the shuddering breath the rippled through him as he wrapped his own arms around Aelin, crushing her to him.  She didn’t mind though.  Not as he pressed his face to the crook of her neck and pulled her blouse out of her skirt so he could reach her bare skin.  She didn’t mind as he held on as though she were his lifeline.

He didn’t know if they would talk about it later, didn’t know what he would say if they did.  But for that moment, Rowan let himself remain wrapped in her, this woman who had come to mean more to him than he could even begin to describe.

.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

tags are dumb as per usual

[biteofcherry]

In grain of truth, now that they've mated...will omega "overcorrect" to assert her independence? In this a/b/o world, what does a mating bond entail? Are alpha and omega more in tune with one another's emotions?

The last chapter of GOT brought a bit of chaos and made a lot of people torn about how to treat the supposedly forced bond. I told people in the comments to wait and see, because as it's been with this story from the beginning not everything is like it seems. Same with bonding.

I don't know when or if at all I'll get back to writing, but to sate the curiosity of a few her's a little glimpse into what was happening in the next chapter. (no, it doesn't mean I'm working again on any of my stories, it's something I already had those months ago)

Grain of Truth - chapter 8 snippet (unedited)

Your brain, still quite mushy from the post-orgasmic haze, pinged with alertness. 

The mark over your mating gland was throbbing pleasantly, in tune with the bliss pulsing in your whole body. You touched the spot with your fingertips, felt the content warmth and pride swell in your heart. A heart that seemed to pound with strength unknown to it until now.

“You bonded me,” you whispered, astonishment breaking into a betrayal. 

A part of you knew that bonding would be something Steve insists on, but you thought of it as something to happen much later in your relationship. 

Not only did it happen so soon, but he snapped it into place at your most vulnerable and submissive state. 

“Yes.” Steve replied softly, as if it was the most natural and obvious thing. 

He frowned, seeing your eyes well with tears. Your body was still pressed to his, your leg over his thigh, but you tilted your head back from him. 

At first he didn’t understand your reaction, then he remembered how new all of this was to you. How foreign with the concept of true mates you were. For years you held onto your own presumptions, building lies on stereotypes to shield yourself from ever forming a relationship with any alpha. You skipped some important truths in your need to rebel.

You had to enroll back to some classes, or maybe at least talk to Amita about the basic truths you chose to never learn. 

“Hey,” he said your name in a soothing tone and moved one of his hands to cup the back of your head and make you look at him. “Can you take a deep breath for me and focus on what exactly you’re feeling on the bond spectrum?” 

Instinct told you to struggle, but your body was too spent to put any real resistance. You sneered at Steve, but he only held you in place and asked you to focus once again. 

So you did. With every intention of pouring your irritation into it so hard that Steve feels it like a punch over the mating bond. 

However, the deeper you sank into what you were sensing inside of you, the calmer you were. There was a tiny hint of worry, but overall it was a calm certainty of feelings, a bloom of love and contentment. 

And you knew they weren’t your emotions.

Yours were still a bit uncertain, chaotic, wonderfully in the whirlwind of slowly falling in love.

You understood then that what you felt when you focused on the bond was Steve’s feelings. The heartbeat you thought was yours, only stronger, was Steve’s. 

“I feel you.” You said. 

Steve traced a finger over your cheek and then down to your arm. He took your hand in his and put it over his sternum. 

“That’s what I did.” He explained. “A mating bite is a gift, not a demand. I bit you, because I was ready to open to you. To give you access to my feelings.” 

You frowned, not grasping the full meaning behind his words. Was he trying to veil the breach of trust and forcing you to bond with him? 

He sighed, noticing your confusion. 

“You’re thinking of a mating bond as something that’s like a leash. Or a GPS tracker. Some of the alpha romances really have it all wrong and the authors should be walloped for that.” He growled with irritation. 

“In truth, the bond allows one to sense the distress of the partner and react quicker, but most of all it’s a final act of showing your commitment.” Steve tapped the back of your hand that rested above his heart. “And it’s the biting partner that opens up, not the one getting the bite.” 

“That makes zero sense.” You blurted out.

“Oh, and the other way around makes more sense?” Steve chuckled. “Or are you just so used to seeing it your way that it’s hard to accept it’s the opposite?” 

Steve rolled his body over you, trapping you beneath his massive form once again. And like it happened every time he did it, your body tingled with anticipation. However, he didn’t part your legs, didn’t rut into you; didn’t even touch you. 

“A bite over a mating gland is like giving a wedding ring.” He leaned down, rubbing the tip of his nose along yours. “Me giving it to you as a sign of my commitment. Of me trusting you with my heart and mind.” 

You felt the truth behind his words inside you, felt it on that hook in your heart. 

“You feel me. But I don’t feel you.” There was an undertone of sadness in Steve’s voice, but it wasn’t a manipulation to force the right words out of you. And now you were certain of it, because you sensed it through the bond.

For the first time it seemed you were on even footing with Steve, being able to tell if he was honest or just wanted to trick you. In the uneven power dynamic between alpha and omega that provided you a power of your own. 

“You don’t feel what I feel?” You asked, still hesitant. “You don’t know what I think?”

All the times he figured out there was something bothering you, or the way he so easily played your body as if he knew all the weak spots before discovering them. If Steve gained even more insight into you, you’d be powerless against him.

“No, not until you bite me.” Steve brushed his lips over yours. “When you bite my mating gland, only then can I truly sense you. Only then the actual true bond snaps into place.” 

You opened your lips to accuse him of already having weird access to your thoughts, but Steve’s soft huff of laughter interrupted you.

“I’m good at reading people and you wear some of your emotions on your beautiful face.” He teased you. “And your body has tells too…” one of his hands slid along your side, thumb brushing the underside of your breast.

Your nipple instantly hardened, your back arching upward to rub against Steve’s naked chest.

“You’re so very responsive.” Steve hummed appreciatively. 

“You- you’re distracting from the main topic.” You scolded, but it sounded too breathy and helpless to impress anyone. Plus, your treacherous body preferred to follow the newly ignited spark of arousal. 

“I’m distracting?” Steve’s hand traveled further south. “I’m not the one splayed so openly; so warm and wet, and smelling of me.” 

“That’s also your fault,” you groaned when he nudged your legs apart. “You covered me in your come almost head to toe.” 

It was absolutely filthy, some of the things he did to you. Yet your body and the primitive hindbrain of yours shaked in ecstasy. 

“Mhm, there are still some unsoiled nooks.” Steve’s voice lowered, as his fingers dipped between your soaked folds and further down. 

“Nu-uh,” you shook your head even as your body opened up to his ministrations, “I’m not taking it up the ass.” 

Steve’s eyes darkened, a single digit circling your hole. 

“Not yet,” he whispered, moving his fingers back to your sopping entrance, “but not never.” 

[merakiui]

the idea of rollo staying at NRC in ramshackle will forever remain soooo fun to me especially with all the other characters freaking out about it HAHA thank you for blessing my dashboard with it <3 it's incredible. maybe one day i'll write a little drabble abt that idea but i'm currently 18.000 words into a rollo/reader longfic (and not even halfway done yet. yippee! what burden did i put on my own shoulders... OTL) and i don't wanna write anything else until i have this monstrosity finished LMAO but if you have any other rollo at nrc ideas pspspspsppspsp thank you

Good luck with your Rollo fic, anon! I know how it feels to subject oneself to long fics, so I wish you all the best with your writing process!!!

As for Rollo at NRC, allow me to share a few thoughts:

✧ Rollo braving the busy cafeteria line when they’re selling the bakery goods once every month. He insists on doing this because he doesn’t want you to get trampled by ignorant mages who don’t know how to be respectful! He always returns with your favorite, sometimes even forgoing the chance to get his own favorite item because you’re way more important to him than a croissant.

✧ PE class with Rollo, but he offers to do the same exercise routine Vargas has created for you since you can’t exactly fly on a broom. He’ll run laps on the track with you (even though he’d rather not) just to be beside you so you won’t feel left out. The two of you slack on sit-ups and push-ups when Vargas isn’t looking, usually just sitting cross-legged in the field and talking about anything and everything.

✧ Since you’re comfortable with letting Rollo stay and sleep in your bed, the two of you will lie on your sides and occasionally whisper to each other through the darkness, mumbling about simple things like tomorrow’s weather, or the next alchemy exam, or how you should both spend this upcoming weekend. Grim usually has to get up and lie between the both of you so you’ll stop talking, but with each nightly conversation Rollo loosens up a little and even seems friendlier and warmer to you and Grim. You think you might’ve heard a genuine chuckle when Grim had gotten up and moved between you, all while sleepily complaining about how neither of you will shut up. Rollo won’t admit it outright, but ever since he started sleeping beside you he’s found that sleep comes much easier now.

✧ Rollo doesn’t like mages, but he’s deemed himself the only mage safe and capable enough to be around you. So when you’re dejected that you can’t experience what it must feel like to fly on a broom he offers to show you without thinking. But then Ace and Deuce are offering, and now Rollo really has to commit to his promise. Ace is too carefree with his flying and Deuce gets too nervous sometimes, so they’re definitely not suited to take you up into the air. Rollo never really thought that something so normal as flying on a broom would appeal to someone who’s never seen or heard of such a thing before, but once he’s in the air with you—and you’re wrapping your arms firmly around him to hold on—he hears the breathy excitement in your voice as you wave and yell down to your friends below. Rollo almost confesses to you right then and there because the sky is the only place private enough for a sudden confession, but he holds his tongue and smiles softly instead. You’re cute when you’re happy.

✧ Rollo likes to study in the library with you, either in one of the alcoves or at a table in the very corner. The two of you might get interrupted by whoever happens to stumble upon you, and it’s annoying when you ask the intruder to stay and study alongside the both of you. But he’s always rewarded after every moment spent with you when you get sleepy and lean against his shoulder, using it as a pillow. Your relationship has become really friendly and casual lately, which is a bond Rollo thought he’d never be able to have. But oh the pride he feels when he looks at Ace or Azul or even Riddle and can see them withholding an envious comment.

✧ When you first took Rollo into the town alongside some friends, wanting to show him around in the same fashion you’d been shown around many months ago, he finds himself thinking about all of the places here that could serve as good date sites. Naturally, taking a walk through the town could be a date in itself, but he sees the cutest restaurants and cafés and shops. And he makes a mental note to return with you next time so that he can properly immerse himself in the atmosphere and pretend it’s a date with only you.

✧ Rollo is there for you if you ever get homesick, much like how you’re there for him when he recalls his past and has to fight tears and sadness so he won’t burden you with such feelings. Rollo doesn’t experience hugs often, but ever since he transferred to NRC you’ve always offered a hug when he looked tired or lonely or saddened. Rollo had pushed you away each time, but when he’s particularly emotionally vulnerable he’ll pull you into him and never let go, holding tightly and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

✧ Stargazing with Rollo when neither of you can fall asleep. Maybe you’re plagued with confusing dreams, maybe it’s his insomnia, or maybe the both of you are kept up by Grim’s loud snoring. Either way, you’ll meet each other in the hall and just silently agree to watch the stars in hopes of getting sleepy. Sometimes you’ll sit at the window; if it’s not too chilly outside you’ll grab a blanket and sit out there, the both of you wrapped up, your gazes turned skyward. Sometimes you’ll talk about deep topics. Sometimes you’ll just wordlessly admire the sky. Sometimes Rollo thinks of telling you he loves you, of reaching out to turn your head towards him so you can taste the confession on his lips. But instead he chooses to admire the brightest star in his world: you.

[jesse-pinko]

ALASKA MIKE AND JESSE CONTENT. NOW!!!!!!!!!!!

Off the top of my head…

- Going off my own fic they go to Alaska together after Mike, who was injured instead of killed by Walter’s bullet, rescues Jesse from the compound after he basically stumbles on him months later while trying to track down Walt

- Mike knows it’s unwise for them to keep traveling together, much less settle down anywhere, but one night when they’re holed up in a motel and Jesse has just had a night terror and Mike has spent a good five minutes trying to convince the kid that they’re not even in New Mexico anymore and Jesse asks where they’re going and Mike says he isn’t sure yet- Jesse looks up at him, his eyes huge and lost and looking for anything concrete to anchor him to reality and asks if they could go to Alaska- well, Mike can’t think of anywhere else to go

- They live together at first because Jesse isn’t physically or emotionally in a place where he can take care of himself. The aftereffects of his night terrors can last for hours, which is confusing and terrifying, and could create situations in which he might feel he was justified in doing something drastic. Slowly, these become less frequent and for the most part less severe, he sees doctors and specialists (Mike is surprised that Jesse has the wherewithal or the knowledge to take charge of these appointments himself, and they end up discussing his Aunt Ginny and his interest in sports medicine) and he offers to move out, like he thinks Mike has just been putting up with him all this time. Mike agrees because he thinks it’s good for the kid to have his own space, but Jesse is surprised when Mike’s joke about being glad about getting some peace and quiet sounds even more doleful than he’d expected. The next time he calls Mike, Mike immediately asks him what’s wrong like a dad whose teenager just left for college

- When Jesse gets His Dog the one we all agree he has it’s because he picked it up as a stray on the side of the road while they were still living together and then he tries to hide the dog from Mike like a ten-year-old would from their parents and Mike is like. Do you think this is my first rodeo. I know you’re hiding some sort of animal from me. When did I say we could get a dog.

- Side tangent I’ve seen a lot of heated debates over the years as to what breed Jesse’s dog should be but I work with dogs so I have seniority over all of you and I’ll decide. I love huskies, I do, but Jesse has had enough crazy in his life without adding a husky to the mix. The right answer is Fat Old Lady Staffordshire Terrier, which is a Whole Other Breed, as the kids say. Every time I meet an old lady staffy it’s like meeting a spunky little grandma who goes to pride parades and hits rude people with her handbag. He needs that in his life

- Jesse started having seizures not long after his rescue, and even after it looks like he’s out of the woods they keep happening. He’s not allowed to drive, obviously, until they know the medication the doctor prescribed him works, and Mike is initially put off by him sulking about it when he’s the one who has to drive the kid everywhere after all. But Jesse is actually comfortable enough to open up to him about how it’s more about his fears around being stripped of agency and feeling trapped and they actually have like a genuine discussion about it it’s nice :)

- When Mike gets older and does eventually start having memory problems they essentially switch roles from when he first rescued Jesse from the compound… Jesse does exactly what Mike did when he isn’t understanding what’s happening in the present moment; trying to follow whatever his line of thinking is to a nonthreatening conclusion instead of trying to force a new reality on him, answering the same questions over again patiently, sometimes deflecting with something else he thinks might catch his attention or at least disrupt a distressing train of thought. Sometimes, Mike calls him Matty by mistake. If he doesn’t notice, Jesse doesn’t remark on it. Sometimes Mike will ask if he’s feeling alright, at random, like when they first got there and he was still in recovery, or will swear up and down that he’d come into the room because he heard Jesse calling for his help.

- Jesse’s kid gets them matching BFF bracelets from Claire’s that they have to wear at least once because if you don’t show enough gratitude for the presents kids give you it hurts their feelings :)

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Trey: *Trying to explain Riddle is that way because of his mom*

Me: Give me a minute as I pull up my ‘Trauma Doesn’t Excuse Sh*t Behavior’ PowerPoint.

Say it with me, everyone: an explanation is not an excuse 😊

You know, the other day I was watching one of Ryan George's Pitch Meetings and when Producer Guy asked Writer Guy how the audience would root for the villain of the franchise and the response was "he's handsome" which basically explains most people's reactions to fictional men.

Prepare for incoming rant that has little to do with the ask

This probably might come as a shock because one of the main appeal of twst would be the whole villainous aspect/Disney Villain fanbase but I don't really like villains that much, at least, not romantically. Like don't get me wrong, I think that they're incredible characters and it would be so fun to sit down with one and have a conversation with one. Villain songs are so fun (I was literally singing ‘This Day Aria’ to myself the other day I haven’t heard that song in like a decade) and you can tell that that characters like Scar or Hades or Shere Khan or Jafar or Maleficent are having so much fun being deliciously evil and even the more serious, complex ones like Loki or Frollo are fun to pick apart so yeah I understand the hype. I just always rooted for the heroes and I guess heroic characters have always been more my type.

My mother absolutely loves Erik Destler and is forever salty that Christine chose Raoul (despite my many many attempts at arguing why Raoulstine is the superior couple - smol primary school me could not understand why my mum liked the chandelier dropper and was deeply concerned), my best friend has been in love with Heathcliffe since we were eleven, and my little sister has literally told me that her type of fictional men are the toxic red flags (not exactly word for word but she did explain why she likes bad boys over good boys when I was complaining about how my type (wholesome soft boys) always get sidelined for the arrogant, snarky bad boys - we're also very diametrically opposed on our views of friends to lovers (my s++ tier all time favourite and her loathing) vs enemies to lovers (I can't really stand it - Pride and Prejudice is the only exception - and that's literally all she consumes) so that might also be a reason).

Like, I understand the appeal of a Byronic hero (Mr Darcy has far too much power) - a closed off, broody man that hates everything but you? And will burn down the world to keep you warm? I can respect that there are people who dig that. But their not really for me.

The mild bout of insanity thirteen year old me had where I spent two months attracted to Edward Rochester is an outlier and should not have been counted (though that was during my wattpad phase so...)

But I can admit that I have yet to shake off my feelings for Dr Henry Jekyll, Victor Frankenstein and Dorian Gray (though to be fair, Mr Gabriel John Utterson the lawyer and cinnamon roll artist boy Basil Hallward do own my heart). And yes, Jeremy Jordan did make me question my morality as he did make my feelings for Light Yagami be too positive to be sane for a brief moment (Touta Matsuda is still my man, don't worry). But apart from them, literally all of my faves are what you'd call your traditional, morally upright heroes.

Basically what I'm saying is that my perception might be skewed because I've never had the whole 'villains are cooler' mindset when it came to stories. Yes, I love the villains as characters but I always liked their heroic foils more (goodness is just so attractive to me). You get lots of amazing heroic protagonists that have horribly tragic backstories and they're the ones I always fall for because the idea of being a kind sweetheart despite the world being anything but is just *chef's kiss* that's a kind of strength that's so swoon-worthy.

I guess that's why it's harder for me to look past the characters' actions in twst is because, well, they chose to do everything they did. They made a conscious choice to be terrible, despite understanding the consequences. Riddle may have been brainwashed into becoming a tyrant by his mother but he still admitted that he knew he was being horrible - he understands the concept of morality, of good and bad, and he willingly and deliberately did everything he did.

I suppose this text post I found on Pinterest would explain my point better:

[turtleybeachin]

Burnout in the Devildom: Lucifer's Epilogue

You’ve been working hard in the Devildom. Classes are intense, especially when it feels like you’re having to play catch-up just to have basic understandings of things everyone else knows innately. Add to that living with seven avatars of sin who can’t go more than six hours without some sort of catastrophe, and somehow you’re always dragged into the middle of their chaos to sort things out and be their big sibling despite being the actual baby of the entire world?

You’re exhausted. The sort of exhaustion that does not just go away after a good night’s rest and an eye mask and a glass of human-world wine. The sort of exhaustion that starts sapping the life out of everything you do, everything you touch, until you feel like you’re just going through the motions and always one inconvenience away from a complete meltdown.

This chapter is best read after Chapter One, but is also able to be read alone.

Word Count: 3.1k Pairing: Lucifer x GN! MC (Reader) Rating: PG-13 Tags: Fluff, Comfort, Romance. Kissing and flirting and some emotional outbursts. Lucifer overthinking.

The more he has gotten to know you, the more Lucifer has realized that you two really are alike.

He has spent the past month sitting quietly as the crown prince and heir to the Devildom talks freely and candidly with you about the pressures of the throne and his lofty goals for peace, hoping his vulnerability will encourage you to embrace and accept your own. He has sat silent and stiff every time Diavolo tried to pull him into the conversation, trying to draw him out to discuss difficulties he had adapting to the Devildom or all the times he has been overwhelmed with work.

And every single time he averted his gaze and frowned and made dismissive comments before changing the subject. Every single time his pride refused to allow him to admit to weakness in front of others, denied him the chance to sing your praises and reveal how you were the chink in his armor.

Of course Diavolo knows when he is lying and evading a topic, and he suspects you know his body language and can guess what he leaves unsaid as well. It's irritating. Both that he should be so easy to read, and that you should be forced to guess and assume how much he cares.

And look at you. You've been juggling a report and an exam while also conducting interviews for the exchange program at Diavolo's behest. You've been keeping up with homework, making time for his brothers' antics, and handling your household chores. You're balancing everything flawlessly, of course; you claim you're fine, will catch up on sleep next weekend, that this isn't too much.

But do you really believe that your excuses will work against him? Do you think he is that ignorant, MC? He knows your tells, and he knows what it is to be exhausted but determined to prove yourself and exceed everyone's expectations. The drive to exceed even your own expectations.

He can sense his sin on you, but more than that, he can sense your fear.

You worry that the moment you misstep, they will replace you. You wonder if the moment you stop pushing yourself so hard, their love for you will fade. You think if you say no, someone else will say yes and surpass you in all of their hearts.

And oh, how he wishes he could tell you how absurd your fears are. How much you mean to all of them-- to him-- how extraordinary you are exactly as you are, how you do not have to earn his approval or his love or his respect because you already have all of it, all of him--

But he cannot. Not a matter of choice, a matter of sin. His pride that was once a badge of honor is now a curse and a collar, choking back the words that could weaken him, could humble him.

A hot rush of shame burns through him at the memory of how demeaned he was by that damnable gold hellfire newt syrup. How he couldn't keep the words inside, how much he'd missed you, how much he loved you, how willing he was to submit to you and be yours.

It had wounded his pride. It had overridden his pride. It had been a spur of the moment purchase afterwards that sat taunting him on a shelf in his study, some wicked combination of a haunting reminder and a decadent promise.

He tells himself that he's already dealt with the worst of it. He's prepared now for the effects. He's stronger now, and the effect will not be so drastic and upsetting. (He secretly hopes his pride is once again coming before his fall.)

A glance at the clock and he knows you'll be coming to visit soon. It's become something of a ritual, this shared workspace in his office. For millennia he's preferred to work alone, to have quiet and peace to focus, but now he has no idea how he managed so long like that.

As has become customary, he prepares drinks for you both before you arrive. As is customary, he pours himself a glass of Demonus, from a bottle on one of the higher shelves. Tonight he also grabs the bottle of golden syrup, adding a splash to his glass before he can overthink and stop himself.

And for you? You've done this enough he knows your preferred beverage(s) as well. Whether you also wish to share in his Demonus (even though it doesn't affect you), or a cup of steaming tea or cocoa, or perhaps you prefer the rare treat of human world liquor; he knows your tastes and always has your favorites on hand. Plus a glass of water, because he knows it's important for humans to stay hydrated and that you somehow manage to forget that.

The drinks ready, he makes sure your favorite spot is prepped with spare pens, checks that the fire is burning hot enough to keep you comfortable, and puts one of your favorite records on for gentle background noise. He prides himself on knowing your preferences for more than just drinks, after all.

You enter with a stack of books balanced against your chest and your chin holding down some loose papers on top. You smile in greeting and thanks as Lucifer helps you settle your tower onto the table. Your chair is already pulled close for you to settle in comfortably to get back to work.

And for a time, that's what you both do. The sounds of a crackling fire, a scratchy pen, flipping pages, and gentle music combine to a perfect focus soundtrack, and having Lucifer sitting just a few feet away working diligently inspires your brain to buckle down too.

Except tonight he isn't so invested in his paperwork. Tonight he's distracted, the Demonus trickling a heated path down his throat and into his belly. He can feel the flush up his chest, his neck, burning his cheeks. It is not so intense as it was the first time, but he becomes too aware of his pulse points and how hard his heart pounds.

He becomes too aware of you. You bounce your leg when you're lost in thought, and when you hum along to the music it is airy whispered notes. He could stare at the way the firelight sends warmth and shadows skittering over your face for hours. Every inhale is like breathing in more of your essence to thaw the cold armor of his pride.

And when you finally notice the prickle of attention hot at the back of your neck, you look over to see Lucifer lounging at his desk, his cheek propped on his loose fist, his gaze heavy-lidded, a light flush across his face. He flashes you the small private smile that you know is yours alone.

"I wonder if you find my presence so soothing when you need to focus because you take such pride in your work," he muses. "You wear my sin so differently than I do, warm and piercing, like a weapon you wield to push through your fears."

He doesn't say how cold and constricting it feels in him, how he wishes he could flip it on and off the way you seem to do. He suspects he doesn't have to say it, judging by the way you furrow your brow and tip your head. When Diavolo gives him considering looks, it feels like disappointment; when you give him those looks, though, it feels like understanding.

You angle yourself in your seat to face him, taking in his uncharacteristic posture and expression. "Why, Lucifer, how very demonic of you to make a sin sound so poetic and powerful and good," you tease.

His low chuckle always gives you a rush of warm pride -- he so rarely laughs, and being able to draw one from him is a prize you covet. You wonder if his laugh was that same rumble when he was an angel, or if it was something more like Simeon's musical giggling. Did falling give him that seductive villainous laugh or was that just him, just the Morning Star?

He slowly pushes himself up from his chair as you ponder. Grabbing his glass, he strolls around his desk to sit in the chair beside yours, apparently abandoning any pretense of work for the rest of the night. You tidy up your workspace as well, taking your cues from him.

"Is it? Then what does that say about you, MC? You defend Satan's outbursts, Beel's eating of the furniture, Mammon's thievery and lies. You insist Asmo merely appreciates physical touch as his 'love language' every time he gropes anyone." He tilts his head and considers you, and your eyes follow his hands as he plucks his leather gloves off and sets them neatly on the table beside your books. "You even insist you know me, and spread such slander as me being soft, affectionate, or stressed."

You're pretty sure you aren't meant to laugh, but his lips curl at the corners in the faintest threat of a smirk, and the red in his eyes flicker in the firelight with what you are sure is gentle amusement. He doesn't seem affronted by your mirth as he stretches his arm toward you, the backs of his fingers brushing over your cheek. You lean into the touch, closing your eyes as it trails around to the other side of your face until his palm cups your jaw.

"Yet you do not extend that same love to yourself," he murmurs, and when you open your eyes he seems more exhausted than anything. "You think your frustrated outbursts are unbecoming and shameful, but we see a reminder that your kindness has its limits and that you will protect your boundaries when pushed. You call your moments of peaceful rest laziness and berate yourself for not being productive enough to earn it, but when Belphegor sleeps for three days you insist he needs his rest and make sure he is comfortable."

His thumb strokes over your cheek as though to soften the blow of his words. Your gaze drops from his, and you almost laugh in giddy discomfort at the thought this must be the same way he feels when you or Diavolo call him out, that urge to deny it even as you feel the shame-awe-affection combo platter of being so seen and understood and loved enough to be confronted. "Yeah, well, you've all lived through and accomplished much more than--"

His grip on you tightens just enough to tip your head back and click your jaw shut. You realize he's wanting you to look at him again, waiting for your attention before he speaks. When your eyes meet, he's looking down his nose in that haughty way you're more accustomed to seeing on him. "Do not dismiss your own experiences so readily. You, a mere human, have survived against a world that has sought to devour you."

The little voice in your head is loud in denial, and much as you want to accept his praise it's like you want him to prove it first. "Only because I've had the lords of it as my bodyguards," you scoff.

You aren't prepared for how his expression softens. "I was not referring to the Devildom." His hand slides back, fingers curling so his nails lightly scratch against your scalp as he cups the back of your head, and he leans across the armrests to press his brow to yours. His breath is warm and sweet against your face, and his cheek is warm against your palm as you cup his face gently.

You're grateful for the gesture, for the intimate privacy of being so close he can't entirely see you as your walls crumple under this unexpected assault. Your hands curl tightly in your lap, battling the urge to reach out against the realization that the moment you do you're absolutely going to fall utterly apart. And you did not come here tonight intending to have a cry session.

"You do not have to prove anything to us, my light," he rumbles, fingers soothing at the base of your skull. "You are not at risk of losing your place here. This family deals only in unconditional and eternal love, and you are a part of this family."

So much for your intentions. The sob bursts out of you whether you allow it or not, and you're reaching to cling to him as all of the stress and fear and exhaustion and anxiety and frustration of the past year just rolls over and through you mercilessly. It's one of those real ugly cries, the ones so hard and intense you can't breathe through them, you can only ride it out as a helpless passenger.

You don't even realize Lucifer has moved, that he's kneeling before you so you can fall against him as you cry. His arms are around you, holding you up and soothingly stroking the length of your back. It has been a very long time since he has held someone as they fell apart, and he tamps down on the memories of those early days adjusting to life after the Fall.

He frowns as he realizes you're hiccuping two words between your weakening sobs and tilts his head to press a kiss to your temple. "Don't apologize," he orders. "You will not apologize to anyone for having emotions, for having needs. You are strong, but even the strongest demons have their moments of vulnerability."

You sniff and shudder as the tears dry out, and you turn your head from the damp spot you've left on his shoulder to press your face into the side of his neck. "Even you?" you mumble, aiming for a teasing tone but falling flat. If you had any dignity left at the moment, you'd probably cringe at how small you sound, how obvious it is you're looking for reassurance from him. From him.

It is one thing to have Diavolo comically stage-whispering about how his paperwork is overwhelmingly endless and he's sometimes climbed out a window to get away from it; it's entirely another thing to be asking The Avatar of Pride to commiserate with you as you sob onto his shirt and certainly erase any ideas he had that you might share his sin or be anything like him at all.

Just when the silence has stretched long enough to become painful and you start to pull away, he sighs. "Even me." His grip on you tightens, one hand sliding up your spine to cup the back of your head, keeping your face tucked at his throat. Keeping you from looking at him.

You wiggle nonetheless, pushing at his chest as you pull away, and he relents. Your cool, damp cheek bumps his as you lift enough to catch his eye. You can't imagine what a mess you must look like, but when his distant gaze refocuses on you there is only the same soft warmth as before. He isn't rolling his eyes or curling his lip or even worse, stoically bearing your outburst.

He brushes away the moisture on your cheek with his thumb. "I know what it is to shoulder that burden alone, to be determined to prove yourself. You have become a comforting, reassuring, healing presence in my life; I wish to be the same to you."

Your smile is watery and trembles as you rest your forehead against his. "You are." In the exhaustion that comes after any emotional storm, you're left feeling vaguely embarrassed about your hysterical meltdown and oddly relieved to not have gone through it alone for once. "How did you know I needed this?" you wonder, the question more rhetorical than real.

"Because I needed it as well," Lucifer answers regardless of your expectation. You feel the flutter of his eyelashes as he looks away, and the two of you shift against one another. A fresh flush melts across his cheekbones as he turns his head. "I took measures into my own hands to make certain we could have such an open discussion this evening."

His turned head and averted gaze are a familiar tell, but you also know him well enough to know the difference between his 'unfocused discomfort' side-eyes and his 'looking at something intentionally' side-eyes. You try to follow his line of sight, and you frown as you see him looking at his liquor cabinet. He regularly has his glass of Demonus in the evenings, and you know it takes more than that to get him so loose and vulnerable.

It takes more than that to have him kneeling before you.

Then you notice the one little bottle different from the others, the familiar rich gold liquid with a fiery salamander on the label that is tucked away on the top shelf. As you slide your gaze back to him, your grin grows in disbelief as you reevaluate the emotional, talkative, affectionate demon sitting before you. "Did you get into that syrup again?"

His grin is crooked and boyish as his ruby eyes meet yours, not the practiced and flawless expression of the Avatar of Pride but the delighted mischief of the fallen angel underneath. "May I offer suggestions for your command, Master?" he purrs, as good as an admission of guilt as you can expect.

He lifts himself higher, leaning into you and crowding you back into your seat as his lips brush your cheek on their way to your ear. Order him, he murmurs, to recount every single time you have made him sizzle with pride for you. Order him to tell you in precise detail what he loves about you. Command him to spend the night worshiping you until you believe your own worth.

And your face heats as though he'd just whispered the filthiest fantasies to you. You'd been expecting some sort of seductive speechcraft. Only Lucifer could make chaste compliments feel sinful and too much. Your grin is too wide as you turn your head, noses bumping and mouths pressing together clumsily.

Locked away in his study with you, Lucifer spends the night recounting how important and precious you are, how many hours he has spent watching you and thinking about you, how much your happiness is worth to him. Between kisses and soft touches he tells you how many lives you have touched, how many people think about the words you have said to them or the notes you have written or the smile you flashed them in passing. As he cradles you close, he admits that despite what he said when he offered a pact to you, the truth is that he belongs to you.

His heart is in your delicate human hands, and it has never felt safer.

And he will spend the rest of his life ripping his pride to shreds at your feet if that is what it takes to make sure you understand and believe how very loved you are.