#this is like 75% of what I was talking about when I said “women in the series aren't allowed to be morally grey”

[unequivocallyreid]

Why Didn’t You Tell Me?

it has been SO long... i was suffering from serious writers block but it think i'm finally out of it :)

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: Spencer Reid used to be your best friend, but things changed. How long can you pretend that you don't love him before it ruins you?

warnings: angst! (with a happy ending), smut (unprotected piv), character loss, mention of Maeve, very sad Spencer, mental health struggles, drinking/bar scene, light choking, fighting, slight praise kink

wc: 8.8k 🤗

i’m very proud of this one! i hope you love it!

Every morning when you wake up, you feel a familiar and creeping sort of dread in the pit of your stomach.

Don’t get the wrong idea; you love your job. You love helping people and stopping horrible people from ruining any more lives, but the creeping feeling and desire to get out is always in the corner of your mind. Anyone working in this field would tell you that. There’s no absolute separation between you and the victims and their families. You take all of them home with you, and you just have to learn how to deal with that and not let it eat at you.

It doesn’t help that it’s an isolating job as well. The last time you were in a serious relationship was in college. Now, every date you have ends in disappointment. Not only do you lack interest in most of the men and women, but it couldn’t go anywhere even if you did. 75% of your time is spent in the office, on a jet, or hundreds of miles away from your home.

All of this contributes to the feeling, but the worst part of your job is Dr. Spencer Reid.

He’s secretive and dismissive and just about the most attractive person you’d ever seen. You honestly don’t know what is worse: his constant physical presence in your life or the fact that you can’t stop thinking about him no matter what you do. You’ve tried to get over it; you’ve buried yourself in work, lamented to your friends, and gone out on dates (all with guys that looked vaguely similar), but nothing has worked. All his worst traits grate your nerves and light you up at the same time.

The worst part of it all is that it wasn’t always like this. When you first joined the BAU nearly two years ago, you and Spencer got along well. You were friends, he talked to you about his life, he understood you, and you really severely fell for him. He became your best friend.

Everything changed around six months ago. Spencer started to develop migraines, and as those developed, he started distancing himself from you. He became snippy and closed off, he started hiding things from you, and he stopped talking to you about life outside of Quantico. It was like overnight, you became nothing to him, and you really didn’t understand. Everyone else on the team got the same old Spencer, but you went from his right-hand man to someone he only spoke to when it was necessary.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to be vilified. You know, realistically, he can and should be able to decide who he wants to be close to, but working with a man who unknowingly broke your heart was close to the hardest thing you’d ever done. So, you decided hating him was easier. The real emotions you feel toward him sit somewhere inside you, but they have been covered by manufactured distaste. Addressing the actual feeling would hurt too bad, so you pretend to hate the things you used to love.

Nothing, however, could have prepared you for the last case you worked on: helping Spencer save a girl he met about six months ago, a girl he loved. You tried to stay collected, you said nothing when Spencer assisted when he shouldn’t have, and goddamn, did you do everything in your power to find that girl. Maeve. She was perfect for Spencer, and you saw that immediately. Everyone did. The sight of him sobbing in front of her body is one that will never leave your mind.

Now, two weeks later, no one has heard from Reid. The only indication that he hasn’t abandoned his life altogether is the absence of the gift baskets on his doorstep that Pen leaves daily.

Nearly everyone has been to his apartment, but they are met with a closed door and have yet to receive a response. Everyone but you.

Penelope is the first to bring up your lack of appearance at the end of a long day of paperwork.

“Y/n, please, you just have to try. No one is getting anything from him.”

“I really don’t think my presence would do any good,” you pause for a moment, trying to collect the thoughts running through your head like a freight train. “Me and him haven’t been close in a long time, Pen.”

Before you can continue, she cuts in, “Everyone has tried, Y/n. Hell, I’ve even considered tracking down Gideon, and I really, really do not want to do that.”

She pauses for a moment before looking up at you with a pout on her face, “Please, Y/n, for me. I can’t bear the thought of him in there all alone, just wasting away in grief.”

For someone who claims not to be a profiler, Penelope knew exactly what to say to get you to agree. She’s the only person in your life who you told about how you felt, though you’re sure everyone else (aside from Spencer) knew: you’re shit at keeping secrets.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try.”

She nearly bursts with excitement, “Thank God-“

You cut her off before she can finish, “But I’m telling you, I’m not the person he wants to hear from right now. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Yes, yes. I just want him to know we all want him to be okay.”

Before you can hurry out of the office to follow Pen’s instructions, she stops you and hands you a basket full of assorted snacks and fruits.

“Make sure he eats!”

The walk up to Spencer’s apartment is a hard one to take. The smell of his building hits you as soon as you step into the lobby. From there, everything rushes back at once. Memories of nights you spent watching reruns of Doctor Who or listening to him prattle off about whatever he last read assault you with every step. As you slowly make your way up, you start to question why you agreed to do this in the first place.

You feel a lot toward Reid. More than you should and less than you could. But all that care and feelings that are so close to love aren’t enough to make you forget why you’ve been trying to hate him for so long. He deserted you without an explanation and cut you off without a warning. You spent weeks (three months) crying over him like a love-struck teen. So, as much as you want to hold him and comfort him, you know it’ll hurt you to do so. Penelope sent you, with the whole team’s approval, you’re sure, to try to patch up a broken heart he got loving someone else. There’s a sickness in your gut, but it’s not enough to stop you from rapping your knuckles against his door.

“Spencer? It’s Y/n.”

There’s no response.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now, but I want to make sure you’re alright. Can you tell me you’re alright?”

Again, nothing.

You know he’s there. Despite your lack of communication, you know Spencer well enough to know that he would never leave his life behind entirely. That being said, your next few attempts at garnering a response are unsuccessful.

You decide to try one final time before just leaving the basket alone on his doorstep and texting Pen it was a bust.

“There’s a lot I don’t know about you now, and I won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling.”

You don’t exactly know where this is headed, but you continue on regardless.

“I know you’re in there, and I know you can hear me, and I know you’re hurting. You shouldn’t- I don’t want you to be alone right now, Spence. You can either unlock your door, or I can pick it, but I’m coming in one way or the other. You know I will.”

You wouldn’t, actually. It’s a last-ditch effort, and it’s met with the same silence you’ve heard on the other side for the past ten minutes. You’re about to turn to head back down the stairs when you hear the very faint sound of a deadbolt turning.

There’s no other sound or movement, and for a moment, you think you might’ve imagined the sound, but you try the handle anyway. It turns, and the door slides open. You take a step in.

“Spencer,” you call out to him.

You don’t see him at first in the mess of his apartment, but when you do, you feel a crack form in your heart.

Beyond the clutter of his entryway, you see his back on the couch. His frame looks smaller than you’ve ever seen it, and you can see his legs curled into his chest. You set down the gift basket by a collection of others on the entry table and walk over to him. Slowly, like you’re trying not to spook a lost dog, you creep in front of him.

His head is down, and his gaze stays trained on his knees.

You reach out your hand and lay it over his. He flinches but doesn’t pull away.

“Spence, I’m so glad you opened the door.”

You didn’t plan out what you would say, but ‘sorry’ feels redundant and useless.

You go on, “I’m here. I- I don’t know what to do or say, and I’m sorry that I don’t. I can get someone else for you. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

You wait for him to say he wants Penelope or JJ, but it doesn’t come. Nothing comes. You start to move to get up, figuring you could clean up a bit and try to make him something to eat, then go, but he grasps your arm before you can.

He looks up at you, and his eyes hit you right in the gut. They’re bloodshot and sunken but still beautiful.

“Stay. Please. I just- I need to know I’m not dreaming. I keep thinking I’m dreaming.”

His voice is croaky from disuse and breaks at the end, but it’s so heartbreakingly earnest that you feel your breath catch. You move from your crouch and sit beside him on the couch; your hand is still in his.

You stay like that for a long time. His breathing is shakey and uneven, and every so often, his body shakes with what you can only assume are sobs. You stay pressed to his side the whole time, thumb rubbing back and forth over his hand.

Eventually, you speak again, “I’m gonna get you some food, Spence. You should eat.”

He says nothing back, but he does loosen his grip. You push yourself up from the coach with a promise you’ll be as fast as possible.

His kitchen is nearly empty, and you hope he’s been eating from the baskets. Still, you find enough to make noodles and butter, and you figure the carbs should help his energy some.

You return with the bowl. Spencer hasn’t moved, but his head follows you as you walk back over to him.

“It’s not fine dining.”

He studied you for a second, and you catch a glimpse of the old him in his eye.

“You did the same thing when I was sick on a case a year ago.”

You smile at his recollection.

“It helped you then.”

The rest of the night is spent mostly in silence. Occasionally, you tell him something to try to remind him that you’re there and that you won’t leave as long as he wants you there. Eventually, you get up from the couch again.

“Spencer, it’s too late to still be awake.”

He nods and still says nothing, but he is far more receptive than before. You reach your hand out to him to help him up from the couch, and he takes it.

He leads you to his room at a slow pace. His head stays down as you both take a seat on his bed, hands still interlocked. Being in his bedroom is odd for you. You’ve been to his apartment quite a few times before he disappeared from your life, but you never breached this space. It’s all very him. Almost surprisingly cozy, with books scattered around nearly everywhere there’s space.

You take in the moment for a beat before saying, “I’m gonna head home, Spencer, but please call me if you need anything at all. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

This makes his head snap up, and his eyes lock with yours.

“Please stay.”

That’s all he says, but every part of him is pleading with you. It’s not a good idea, and you know it. You’re the only person he’s seen in days, you aren’t close anymore, and you don’t particularly want to sleep on a couch tonight.

“Spencer, I don’t want to sleep in your living room tonight. I’ll come back.”

He pauses for a moment, “You can stay here with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

Your heart cracks again. There was a time when this was all you wanted. It’s still, deep down, all you want, just not like this. You know he doesn’t really want you there and he’s not himself. But you aren’t strong enough to say no, so you don’t.

He gets you clothes to wear, and you change in his bathroom. You come out and find him in his bed, laying with his back to you. You have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but you get into bed next to him anyways. There are a thousand thoughts racing through your head, but the prevailing one is how badly you want to touch him, to hold him, to make him forget, just for the night. You stay still, though, confined to the edge of the bed and start to count to drown out the noise.

Though, you can’t drown out his voice, saying, “Can- Could you hold me? I think that everything feels better when you touch me.”

Another crack. By the end of this, you know Spencer Reid is going to break your heart all over again.

~

When you wake up the next morning, Spencer is still asleep. You sneak out of his room and call Hotch. When he answers, you tell him Spencer has let you in, and you ask for time off to try to help. You can tell from his voice that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but he grants you it anyway.

Much of your day is spent like the night before. You stay next to Spencer, and you cook for him after leaving to pick up clothes and groceries. Then, you get him to shower and wash his hair. He sleeps with his head in your lap, and you feel like a fucking idiot at first, but as long as it’s helping him in some way, you let it happen.

That’s the thing: you don’t really know how to help him. You know he isn’t the type to talk about something until he is entirely ready, so all you can do is add something domestic and bright to his life while he grieves. It’s all you can think about in the moments of silence. Hell, you even read to him to try and get your mind off of it, but it barely helps.

The night is the same. You change in different rooms and slip into his bed at different times. You feel dirty for imagining what it would be like if the circumstances were different: if he wanted you like you have wanted him for the past two years. You hold him against you, and you pray for sign that you should be there.

The sign comes the following morning when Derek calls you.

“Y/n…”

You can hear his teasing tone over the phone.

“Hi, Derek.”

“What are you doing, mamas?”

You sigh, “What do you mean?”

You’re playing coy. You know he’s wondering why you’re at Spencer’s house, picking up the pieces, but you won’t be the one to bring it up.

“Why’d you ask Hotch for the week off, Y/n?”

Another sigh, “You know why, Derek. I just, I want to help him.”

“I know you do, Y/n, I know.”

He pauses for a moment, and you let the moment fill with silence.

“I know you care about him. We all care about him. But who is taking care of you?”

“I am. I can take care of him, and I can take care of me.”

“I know you can, but I don’t want you to get hurt, Y/n. Don’t let this be something that hurts you.”

“It won’t. I- You have to- Fuck, I’ll be fine. He’s not fine. I don’t care about me or any feelings that may get hurt right now. I’ll be fine.”

There’s another bear of silence, “Okay, Y/n. Just know you’re allowed to tap out.”

You try to think of anything else to say, but nothing comes, so you say your goodbyes.

You won’t need to tap out. You can take care of him and be good to him and ignore the other feelings you have. You can be good.

The call does make you think it’s time to push, to try harder, to help him get better. So, you approach him that day before bed, before he tucks himself into your arms and falls into a fretful sleep.

“Spencer?”

He takes a moment and then responds, “Yes?”

“You have to talk about it. I think that you need to talk about it. It doesn’t have to be to me but to someone.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and your breath is caught in your throat, waiting for him to say anything.

“I- I don’t want to,” his voice cracks while he says it.

“Spence, you can’t come back if you don’t. You can’t move forward if you don’t.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

A ringing echos in your ears.

“You don’t mean that. She- she would want you to keep going.”

Wrong thing to say.

“You don’t know anything about what she would want.”

He’s seething now, below the surface, but smoke has started to plume from his ears. Still, you don’t stop.

“Spencer, everyone knows that. No one would want you to put your life on hold.”

He speaks his next line through his teeth, “You don’t know anything, Y/n.”

You’ve never heard him sound so angry.

“Spencer-“

“No, just stop. You don’t know her. You don’t know me half as well as you think you do. You don’t know anything. I don’t even know why you’re here. I don’t want you here. You can't be what I need.”

The ringing in your ears is louder.

“Spencer, please. Just-“

“No!” His voice is raised now, bordering on a yell, “I don’t want you here. I want you out, Y/n.”

This has to be what shell shock feels like. The ringing, the tingle in your limbs, and the heat in your face. You don’t know how you are moving, but you are.

His voice is echoing in your head, or maybe he’s still talking, but you can’t tell either way. The only thing you can focus on is how Spencer sounded like he hates you and that Morgan was right about the hurt.

~

You spend the next day trying desperately to shut down the noise in your head. It doesn’t work. The day after is the same. And the days following that. You ignore calls when they come, you ignore the texts, but you can’t stop looking at your phone for a message from the man who fills your thoughts.

Spencer doesn’t call, obviously, and you have to sit with a pit in your stomach while you beg yourself to just get the fuck over it. Two years of reckoning with the severity of your love, months of watching him live happily without you, and it’s the three days you spent trying to help him feel incrementally better that floor you.

You feel like a dumb teenage girl with so much love and nothing to do with it. On top of everything, you feel selfish. Spencer lost the love of his life forever, and you’re nursing the worst heartbreak of your life because a boy will never want you and never has. Still, you send out prayers for him over and over. You hope you’ll see him in the BAU again, even if his eyes glaze over you. Hell, even if they look at you with hate the way they did two days ago. You just want him to function. You want him to be good and eventually be happy. You try to go to bed with soothing thoughts, but you end up with a mantra of his name.

You wake to your alarm and dress for work before you realize you aren’t actually supposed to go back yet. You never set a date to return. You wanted to be open as long as Spencer needed you. You’re supposed to be with him. You’re supposed to be helping and not tapping out. But you aren’t.

You have no reason not to return to the bullpen, so you do. You walk in and feel eyes on you. You wait for Morgan to call out to you, but he doesn’t, so you follow the feeling.

Your breath catches in your throat; it’s Spencer. He’s sitting at his desk, paperwork spread out, and he doesn’t look away from your gaze; he just holds it. His face is unreadable, and yours is definitely not, so you look away first. You don’t look up again until you reach Hotch’s office. You knock and hear him call out to come in.

“I’m back if that’s okay.”

He looks up at you, and you want to cry. You know he can read you. He has always been the best at it.

“Are you okay with that, Y/l/n?”

You lock eyes with him, “Yes, sir.”

It’s no use; he knows your tells and you aren’t being honest.

“Alright, conference room in five.”

Whatever he sees in your face, he ignores and takes you at your word, but there’s a warning in his tone. He knows when to let things go and when to push. More than that, though, he knows you’d never let something like this affect your work.

~

The first case back is in Maryland, and the one after is in Austin, and the next is in Philadelphia with The Replicator. The job takes you all over the country, and the cases blend together. You don’t speak to Spencer through all of it. You’re never partnered, never work together, you sit on opposite ends of the jet. You don’t even speak at Strauss’ funeral. It’s radio silent, and everyone notices it, but no one brings it up.

In that time, you allow yourself to slip away slightly. You don’t go out with the team, you see Pen at nearly half frequency, and basically, the only time you speak is on cases. It’s stupid and melodramatic, but you call it healing. Derek tries to reason with you, JJ sticks to you a bit more than usual, and Penelope calls you virtually whenever she can, but their efforts are mostly in vain. This is your way of protecting yourself. You feel like you have to isolate in order to improve, and you know, given time, you will come back to yourself.

Penelope’s insistence that you go to her Day of the Dead celebration breaks your distance.

“Y/n, please come. I know you aren’t going out, but you have to. I know you have people to honor, and I need you there.”

You sigh, “Whose going, Pen?”

“The team, which you are a part of, so you must be there.”

“I don’t think I can do that. I promise you I will celebrate with you. I’ll help you set up, just please don’t make me go.”

Penelope pauses, but the glint in her eye keys you into the fact that she is not interested in giving up.

“We miss you, Y/n. Everyone loves you and misses you. You’ve been living this stupid, isolated life, and it’s time for you to come back. You are not this person. I refuse to believe it. You’re coming, and that’s final.”

Maybe you don’t have the energy to argue, or maybe you know she’s right, but you agree to go.

~

The thought of seeing him makes your heart race, and the clock you keep glancing at makes it worse. Just a few more hours before you're trapped in a confined space (Pen’s beautiful home) with a man you haven’t spoken to in weeks.

You busy yourself with preparing. Lights are hung, food is made, and you make a trip to the store while Pen sets up her remembrance table. When everything is said and done, you can’t help but feel this is the most beautiful thing you’ve been a part of in a long time.

The first knock comes at 7:30 exactly, and it’s Hotch and Rossi. They are followed closely by Blake, then Derek and JJ. By 7:00, the atmosphere is light and loving, and you feel a bit of your anxiety let up as the minutes go by without Reid. But, eventually, the knock comes, of course it does, and you move into a corner as Spencer walks in. You feel a shift in energy, though you doubt it’s palpable for anyone else. Rossi is the first to make his way over to you, and his presence comforts you nearly immediately.

“How you doing, kid?” His voice is soft like he’s speaking to a scared rabbit.

“I’m better,” you say, and it’s about as honest as you can get. As much as you’d like to think he knows nothing about what’s gone on, you’re smarter than that. He’s the best profiler on the team, and he’s always known when someone was off with you. Even so, you are better than you were, even if you aren’t quite good, and you know he believes you.

There’s some idle conversation between you before he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not tonight. I don’t know when, but I will. Eventually, I will.”

It’s good enough for him, and you move on easily, which surprises you.

Right before Pen gathers you all to present your photos, he says, “Sometimes we think we’ve seen the whole picture, but we miss a big part. People do things because they don’t want to be hurt, but those things hurt them more. Just, be open.”

You don’t quite understand what he means, but you hope you will.

Penelope presents the first picture, which shows her parents. JJ honors her sister, Derek, his dad, Hotch Haley, and Rossi, Hernandez; then it’s your turn. You place down a photo of your best friend. You hadn’t talked much about her, but you think of her daily. She passed a few years before you joined the BAU.

“I was lucky to have someone that hurt that much to lose.”

That’s all you say, but it’s enough for you, and it would be enough for her.

Spencer is last. He places down a picture of Tesla and a picture of Maeve. Your heart is heavy for everyone.

The night dwindles from there. Hotch and Rossi say their goodbyes, and Rossi gives you a knowing look as he leaves. You just smile. You stay for a few minutes after, but eventually, you move to leave as well.

You make it down Garcia’s porch before you feel a hand grab your arm. You turn, and it’s Spencer’s face you see.

“Would you- Do you think you could come over? Do you think we could talk?”

~

The feeling you have walking up to Spencer's apartment is similar to what you felt the last time. You’re incredibly anxious, but at least you know you’ll be let in this time.

The drive over was silent. Spencer had taken the metro to Penelope’s, so he rode with you. It wasn’t necessarily awkward. There was just an understanding that the car wasn’t the place to begin your conversation.

Now, as Spencer unlocked his door, it’s one of those rare moments you felt starved for words, and you know it’s because you’re scared you’ll say the wrong thing and face the same reaction that you did the last time you were in his home.

He leads you to his living room and motions for you to sit, and you do. The two of you are on opposite ends of his couch while you wait for him to say something.

His first words are airy and light, “Thank you for letting me talk to you.”

You look at him but remain silent, waiting for him to go on. All you can think about is why he wants to speak to you at all. The last time you spoke, he made it incredibly clear he did not want you in his life or around him at all.

Before you can think about it more and let your anger and sadness build, he speaks again, “I feel really stupid right now. I kind of feel stupid whenever I’m around you recently.”

He pauses momentarily before going on, “I’m so, so sorry, Y/n. About the last time we spoke. I’ve been thinking about it pretty constantly for the past few weeks.”

You open your mouth, unsure of what exactly to say, but you can’t get there before he’s off again.

“I’m not sure how to talk to you anymore. I don’t think I’ve known how to for a long time. I just, I need you to know how sorry I am for speaking to you like that.”

He takes a shakey breath but keeps going, “That wasn’t me, and that isn’t how I feel. I’m just unbelievably sorry, Y/n.”

He stops there, and you work to collect your thoughts.

“I know. A part of me knows, at least, that you didn’t mean it. I just wanted to be there for you, and hearing that made me- I just- I think it made me hate myself for wanting to be there.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m unbelievably sorry.”

“You didn’t talk to me for months, Spencer. I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why you let me in in the first place. I thought you hated me.”

He’s silent for a long minute.

“I never hated you, Y/n. I just stopped knowing how to act around you, and then I met Maeve. I fell so deep into it that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I- And I just started to feel like you didn’t want me to speak to you, so I didn’t. But, when you came here, after everything, I guess I just felt like you were the only person who would get it. You never, no one on the team ever treated me or talked to me how you did. I just wanted that.”

Tears had begun to well in your eyes now. A part of you gets what he means, at least about letting you in, but the other part is so confused as to why he stopped being comfortable around you.

“I don’t understand, Spencer. Why did you stop knowing how to be around me?”

There’s desperation in your voice that makes you sound like a stranger to yourself. Maybe you’re a stranger to everyone right now.

“I uh, I don’t really know.”

“That's not fair, Spence.”

You’re crying now. Just a little bit, but you can feel the wetness on your cheeks. You can see that you are by the look on his face. He looks broken, and you know it's a reflection of your own image.

You wipe your face, “Thank you for apologizing, Spencer. I just, there are parts of this all that I don’t understand, and if you can't explain them to me, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Y/n-,” he calls out your name like a prayer.

“It’s okay, Spence. You don’t have to say anything more. We talked, and things will go back to how they were eventually.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

You smile sadly as you get up to leave.

“I am, too, for what it's worth. For whatever I did to make things change in the first place.”

You leave it at that, and it takes everything in you not to look back as you leave his apartment.

~

Things do get easier after that. Not completely. You still love him, and it hurts, but it helps to know he doesn’t hate you. He talks to you some, cordial things, and you do the same. You're sure your teammates still sense something is off, but this works for you. Right now, it works. Getting over him, not loving him anymore, is going to take work, but eventually, you know that you won’t hurt anymore.

Shortly after you and him talked, you started going back out with your friends. Spencer joined periodically, but that was normal. Bars were never really his scene.

Tonight, everyone gathers at your local pub. Your last case was particularly grueling, and you all need a way to blow off some steam. It's fun, and you feel good, even with Spencer sitting across from you. You feel proud of yourself for getting to this point.

JJ and Penelope feed you drinks to try and get you to dance, and you let them. Tonight feels as good of a night as any to ‘get back out there’ as Pen says. So, you do. You dance with them, and you ward off the other cops and agents around you who try to pull you away from your group. You aren’t interested in that. Right now, you're just having an appropriate amount of fun for a woman 15 feet from her boss.

Time goes by quickly, and by the time you get back to the table, you, Derek, Penelope, and JJ remain. He tells you that Hotch, Rossi, Reid, and Alex left a few minutes before. The conversation between you flows for a while, up until the drinks loosen Penelope up enough to bring up what you were pretty sure the team designated a no-no topic.

“Y/n, you have to talk about it.”

You’re still laughing as something Derek said when you reply, “What?”

“You know what. You and Boy-Genius. What on Earth happened? You went from ice-cold to semi-friendly. None of us saw it coming.”

“Babygirl-,” Derek tries to stop her, but you cut him off.

“No, it’s okay. I have to talk about it at some point, and I think right now is the only time I’ll be tipsy enough to let you get it out of me.”

You're still laughing slightly, but the pit that's lived in your stomach for the past few months starts to rear its head.

“After your Day of the Dead party, he asked to talk to me. I went to his place, and he apologized. I don’t really understand what he said or what he meant, but I can’t be sad about him forever.”

Pen perks up a bit at that, “I knew that party would bring good things!”

You giggle a bit at her outburst, but then JJ asks, “What did he say?”

The faces around you all tune in at that. You know they don’t see this as gossip. They care about you both too much to trivialize it like that.

“He just said that he stopped knowing how to act around me, and he didn’t know why, but then he met Maeve, and I guess it didn’t matter so much after that. He was my best friend, and then he was nothing.”

JJ shares a glance with Derek and then speaks, “Oh, Y/n.”

“What?”

After a beat, Derek says, “He didn’t just not know how to act around you.”

Now you're confused, “What do you mean? I talked to him, that's what he said. He didn’t know why. I mean, he knows everything and didn’t know why he didn’t want to be around me anymore. How fucking stupid is that.”

You laugh again, but it does come off as genuine in the slightest.

“Y/n, he probably doesn’t really know why. At least not fully. For someone as smart as he is, the kid can be really stupid.”

“Stop being cryptic.”

Derek sighs but goes on, “Pretty girl, pretty boy was in love with you. Probably still is. He just didn’t think you’d ever feel the same.”

“No. That's not true.”

You look at the others around you, but their faces are serious.

“He loved Maeve. He loves Maeve. That, that doesn’t make any sense.”

It's JJ’s turn to talk now.

“He definitely did love Maeve, no one is denying that, but we all saw how he was around you. His whole relationship with her was safe. He couldn’t be hurt by her rejection every day because he had no way of seeing her. With you, he could.”

Your mind is moving a mile a minute, “Did he tell you guys this?”

Penelope puts her hand over yours and says, “He didn’t have to, love. We all say the way he looked at you and acted around you. The way he talked about you. That boy was head over heels.”

“Guys, I appreciate whatever you’re trying to do, but this isn’t real. Spencer doesn’t- this is not real.”

“Y/n, pause. Think about the way he acted around you, the things he said. Think about how Reid is.”

You hear what Derek said, but it all sounds faint like someone stuffed your ears with cotton while you weren't paying attention. All you can focus on are the different scenes running through your head, the scenes of your life with Spencer in it. How he memorized your coffee order and brought it for you every day, how he never shied away from your touch despite his aversion to contact, how he consistently went out of his way to protect you on the field. At his house after everything, the way he clung to you and wanted to be held. How he said in his own words, “You can't be what I need”; not “you aren’t,” but “you can’t.”

Your whole world is crashing down in this bar, and you can’t do anything to stop it.

“Y/n?”

JJ’s voice snaps you out of your spiral.

“Just go talk to him.”

You nod mutely, and you get up.

~

Everything in the last ten months of your life has led you to the exact spot you were when everything blew up in the first place: Spencer’s door.

This time, you aren't too worried about him not letting you in. If anything, it's the opposite. Him opening this door could open a hundred others, and you don’t quite know if you are ready for any of them. You sit there and sit there and sit there, trying to work up the courage to knock, though you aren’t sure it's there to begin with. Right as you're about to walk away and decide you’ll come back another day, his door swings open.

“Y/n?”

His face is lit up with shock, and you notice his hand that is not on the door is holding his pistol.

“What are you doing here?”

You don’t answer, “Why did you open the door?”

He sets his piece down on the entry table before responding, “I heard footsteps in the hall and saw they stopped here. I was anxious. 50.3% of home invasions happen between 8:00 pm and 7:00 am.” He cuts himself off there, “Y/n, why are you here?”

You didn’t pay attention to anything he said. All you could think about was the way his lips were moving and the way his eyes locked onto yours as he talked.

“Do you love me?”

That is not what you wanted to say.

His lips fall open as he takes in a sharp breath, “What?”

“Or I guess did you love me? Before everything? Because Derek and JJ and Pen, they all said that you loved me, and now I can’t think about anything else, Spencer.”

He doesn’t speak, but you don't really give him a chance to.

“I just, I know I sound crazy right now, but I feel fucking crazy. I keep going over everything in my head, and I have been, for the past year I have been, but now it’s all different. It's all different because they said that you loved me, but you didn’t think I’d feel the same way.”

Here, you do pause, but he still doesn’t say anything, so you go on before you can stop yourself.

“Because if that's true, Spencer, it's just- I did. I do. And if it's not, then please just tell me so I can stop feeling this way.”

He sounds resigned when he says, “Y/n,” and you feel like you know what that means.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I'm doing this. You don’t have to say anything. Actually, please don’t say anything. I don't think I can hear it. Just pretend I never-”

He cuts off your ramble, “Y/n, stop.”

You draw your eyes from the floor, look up at him, and find something in his gaze you have never seen before. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you, and it takes everything you have not to look away. His hand raises to cup your jaw, and your skin lights on fire. Before you can process what he’s doing, you feel his lips press against yours, and something clicks. At first, his touch is light, like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. But, when he grasps that you won’t, he presses himself to you harder, and all you can think about is how nothing has ever felt so right.

His lips move against yours, and you don’t know how you're managing to reciprocate because it feels like everything in your body has gone fuzzy. The kiss is by no means long, but it feels like it lasts forever, and by the time he pulls away, you’re breathless.

His forehead stays connected to yours, and he whispers, “I do, Y/n, love you. I have.”

You don’t feel the tears on your cheeks until he’s wiping them away.

“Oh, Y/n.”

“Did you know? That you did? Is that why…”

You trail off, hoping he’ll pick up on what you're asking, and he does.

“I didn’t at first, or I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you until it happened. I got scared, so I ran. I just never thought that you could feel the same or that I was hurting you. I didn’t realize that. I just thought I was doing what was best for us. I felt guilty for being in love with my best friend.”

“And Maeve?”

“I loved Maeve. I’ll always have love for her. I was trying to move on, and I thought I could eventually be with her and be around you without it hurting. I wish I would have told you this before.”

“You’re telling me now. That's enough.”

This time, it's you who pushes your lips to meet his. Your arms snake around his neck, and his fall to your waist. You follow when he pulls you into his apartment and closes the door. There is still pain on both sides, but you can feel it dissipating as you cling to each other. You’re just two broken people who have finally found a way to each other.

This kiss is different, hungrier. Neither of you pulls away for longer than a few seconds as you navigate your way from his entryway to his couch. Every touch is desperate like you're searching for something you never knew existed until now. His hands pull you closer and closer until he's pulling you on top of him, and each of your legs rests on opposite sides of his hips.

Your lips break from his for a moment, “What do you want, Spence?”

His reply is instant, “You.”

From there, things move faster. Your hands unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders while he undoes your pants. There are moments of awkwardness that come with exploring another for the first time, but it feels good. His hands trace over your hips and push further until you're left on top of him in only your underwear and bra. He takes you in like you are something to be marveled at, and you know your eyes reflect the same adoration.

You raise yourself off of him and work to get him in the same state of undress as you, and when you position yourself on top of him, you feel his length press against your center. The two thin layers of fabric do little to hinder the intensity as you rock into him. He lets out quiet moans at the action as his lips trace down your neck and over your collarbone.

His breath ghosts over you and makes you shiver when he asks, “Can I touch you?”

“Please.”

His hand moves between the two of you, and his fingers find your clit easily, rubbing circles over the fabric of your panties. You pant his name against his lips at the action. You feel like your whole body is lit up, and under any other circumstance, you'd feel embarrassed at how worked up you are, but you can’t seem to care.

After a few moments, he lifts you up and carries you to his bedroom. From there, he positions you below him on the bed, removing your remaining clothes in the same motion. The new setup lets you grip him, and he feels big in your hand. His fingers resume their previous assault before dipping down into you. You cry out at the feeling of him inside you, slowly pushing in and out, finding a spot that makes your legs start to shake. He’s relentless in his pursuit and all you can muster up the energy to say is his name.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n.”

It's somewhere between a whimper and a whisper, but the sound of his voice causes you to clench around his fingers.

He picks up on this, of course he does, and quickens his pace as he coos at you.

“So pretty like this. I’m so lucky.”

You’re embarrassingly close already, so when he moves his thumb over your clit to rub circles as he fucks into you with his fingers, you come undone almost instantly with a warning and cry of his name. He works you through your orgasm, all while whispering praise in your ear. Once you come down from your high, you start to push his boxers down his legs, but he stops you before you can fully.

“We don’t have to do anything more, Y/n. I liked just making you feel good.”

“I want more. I want to feel you if you want that too.”

“Of course I do. I just don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I couldn’t regret this, Spencer. I love you. I want all of you.”

It's the first time you’ve actually said those three words to him, and it feels so fucking good to say.

“I love you, too. God, so much.”

With that, he positions himself back on top of you, running his fingers over your slit gently before gripping himself.

“Do you have a condom?”

“I might somewhere, but I have an IUD, and I’m clean. I can try to find one if you’re more comfortable with that?”

“IUDs have a failure rate of around .05% and are largely considered the most effective form of birth control, so uh, as long as you're okay with it, I am.”

You smile to yourself at his statistic but nod, “I want to feel you, Spencer.”

He returns your smile before rubbing his length over your entrance a few times and slowly pushing himself into you just slightly. He teases you, or maybe himself, for a moment before fully entering you. You push your hips up to meet his, and feeling him in his entirety makes your jaw fall open. He’s big, and you feel unbelievably full.

He waits a moment for you to adjust before he starts to develop a rhythm. His hands are everywhere, but his eyes are focused solely on your face like he doesn’t want to miss a moment of your reaction to him inside of you. To be fair, you are probably putting on a good show. Every movement he makes hits you in exactly the right spot, and you don’t think you could be louder if you tried. You can feel the leg he’s not holding up against his shoulder shake against the bed. Your first orgasm has made way for your second to be incredibly close.

“Spencer, please.”

You’re crying out, desperate for a little more to push you over the edge.

“What do you need, baby?” His voice is tight like he’s not far himself, and it sounds better than anything you’ve ever heard.

“Harder. Please, harder.”

He takes your direction immediately, rubbing circles on your clit with one hand while he thrusts into you with a bruising force. He’s fucking you like he wants you to remember the feeling long after he stops, and you know that you will. Everything about it is overwhelming: his smell, his pace, his eyes. You are covered in him, and he is covered in you.

After a moment, the hand he had on your stomach trails up to grasp lightly at your throat, and you fall into feeling. You can’t warn him that you're about to come before you do. The feeling is white hot. Bigger than your first, and the fact that you're coming on him sends you into overdrive. You can feel his hips falter for a moment, but you're lost in a daze, crying out his name.

He pumps into you a few more times before he follows suit. He pulls out, and you feel stripes of his come paint your cunt and lower stomach as he finishes with a moan of your name.

He falls next to you on the bed, and it takes you both a few moments to collect yourselves and catch your breath.

Once you do, the only thing you can think to say is, “I love you.”

It feels like those are the only words circling around in your head at the moment. Some mixture of his name and that declaration. While you know you each said it before, that your profession was the exigence of the sex you just had, it feels uniquely vulnerable to say now. It’s like the moment you just had together could have changed things or made him realize that he doesn’t actually love you after all.

That shoe doesn’t drop, though. Instead, you hear the three words echoed back to you by a man who, 6 hours ago, you thought would never, ever say them.

You turn to face him, and the love on his face feels like it could knock you out. He’s looking at you and smiling in a way you haven't seen in a long time.

“Will you let me clean you up?”

You know that part of the reason he’s asking has something to do with the likelihood of bacteria growth or something like that, but you think it's mainly that he wants to take care of you. Him wetting a rag and running it over you feels intimate in a different way, in an excruciatingly gentle way. Personal in a way that makes you feel like nothing between you could ever be wrong again, and maybe that's naive to think, but you feel hopeful regardless.

Once he finishes, he takes his space back next to you in the bed. This time, he pulls you into his arms, and it's different than it was all those months ago. This time, you know that he won’t push you away and that you won't hurt yourself by being next to him. This time, you just tuck yourself into him, and you let him whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you begin to drift off. This time, it feels like peace.

~

The following day, you wake up to Spencer still next to you, looking incredibly soft in the early morning light. You search for a moment to find your phone in the piles of clothes and are greeted with a text from Pen.

How did it go????

You smile before turning your phone off and climbing back into bed next to the man you love. It couldn’t have gone better.

-

all done! yay!!!

i hope you guys love it!! i’m not 100% happy with the ending but i’ve been writing this for so long and just needed to be done.

this is my first time writing angst on here and my longest fic, so PLEASE tell me what you think! all (nice) feedback is welcome and i love to hear from you guys!! :)

[rachelfoleyisntdead]

because @cydippida begged so sweetly~ I will tell yall my thoughts on Annette Birkin. Incoming LONG ASS POST, with a tl;dr at the bottom if you'd like to skip/skim.

Unwarranted level of hate. Literally misogyny in action. Half a dozen male characters have done worse--several female characters have done worse--in the series and she got crucified because... she's a mom. She had to make more difficult decisions than any other character in re2r, and there was never any 'right answer' for her. Mega doomed by the narrative. Death was the only ending for her and people still act like she was the devil.

I have said this before on my other blog, but there is no right answer to the question "do you save one life or do you save multiple lives", and that was the question Annette faced. Annette, during re2r, was not running around doing evil shit. She was trying to stop her husband from infecting the entire world with the G-virus, and she died for her efforts. BUT because she is a mother, the expected choice (the 'correct answer' to the question) was for her to drop everything and ensure Sherry's survival at all costs.

People act like she abandoned Sherry, when she... actually didn't??? She gives Sherry very specific instructions (call the police if you need help--the police that Annette personally has in her pocket) which was not terrible advice. The majority of the police were actually good people fighting to protect citizens, and going to the police station did ultimately protect Sherry. From Annette's perspective, she is the only one that can stop her husband from infecting everyone and everything, including Sherry.

Was her response to Sherry being implanted great? No. Not at all. And I'll give people that. It was super cold but Annette was trying to stop not only William from infecting the entire world, but Ada (and unwittingly Leon) from stealing the remaining sample of the G-virus. She was under extreme pressure that was only getting worse. Claire showing up to call her a terrible mother and then proceed to save the day is like... so shitty, which I blame the writers for. I love Claire as a character 9 out 10 times.

Annette saved Claire's life, and gets zero credit for that. She even saved Sherry's, to some extent. Again, zero credit. She also gets all of the blame for Sherry being 'ignored' while her parents work when she has TWO parents. It does not help that Capcom reinforces in the ending and subsequent games that Claire is a superior surrogate mother/sister character despite her canonically leaving Sherry in the hands of someone just as deranged as her biological father (Derek Simmons). L M A O

You can directly compare Annette to both William Birkin (her own husband) and Luis Serra and see the difference in how she is treated, both by the narrative and the fandom. And I HATE that resistance played into the Annette hate by making her a Mastermind.

William (an even worse parent to Sherry and a literal villain who did multiple terrible things before re2 AND literally caused 2 outbreaks) and Luis (who, like Annette, was also an Umbrella researcher [but then went on to... make more fucking BOWs with Los Illuminados and work with Ada and Wesker to obtain Las Plagas for further BOW development] and also ultimately died for his small acts of redemption) get praised and woobyfied like crazy because they are attractive men that can be shipped with other attractive men.

tl;dr: Annette and Luis have the exact same character arc but because Annette is a mother who didn't want to let the world burn for her child, she got vilified more than any other character in the series and Capcom encouraged it.

I love Annette but Capcom and the fans did her so dirty in such a bad way.

not a big fan of how women in re are not allowed to be morally grey and well-liked, while the men get to be every shade of morality AND popular, women have to have perfect morals and correct judgment on everything to be acceptable

[multiversefanfics]

Girl Of My Dreams (Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Warning: maybe some cussing? angst, then fluff again Summary: Summary: You work at a small diner down the street from the compound which Bucky visits often, so often that you remembered his order, but things got a little shaken up when Sharon puts her unwanted opinions in it.

You haven’t talked to Bucky in months, every time he comes into the diner you serve him and that’s it. He tries to talk to you, but you tell him you’re busy even if he’s the only one in the diner. It’s not his fault that Sharon said what she said, he can’t control what comes out of other peoples’ mouths, but the whole “75 girlfriends” comment really got to you, he was a very attractive man, so does he actually go out and pick up girls all the time? Is he a player? A lot is going on and you have enough to worry about. Bucky on the other hand, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He’s never felt like this about anyone before, he doesn’t want to lose you, but he knows giving you space may be the right thing to do he doesn’t listen to himself, he keeps trying although you two didn’t know each other for that long Bucky knew that you were the one for him. When he first showed you his arm you were intrigued, you asked many questions about it, and he had no problem answering them.

Bucky has never experienced that type of reaction when he told people about his arm, you didn’t make him feel like a robot or that he didn’t belong you made him happy and Steve and Sam saw that, but of course, Sharon had to go and fuck that up. Bucky stays in his room and only leaves to get food and go to the gym and every time Sharon comes around, he leaves even if he’s in the middle of a conversation and everyone understands they even warn him when she’s about to arrive, so he’s not caught off guard, which Bucky rarely is. There was a soft knock at Bucky’s door “Hey, Buck we were gonna go get some food do you want to come?” No answer, Sam and Steve shared a look and continued on their way, Bucky knew where they were going and after the last time, he was at the diner it was probably best he didn’t go with them.

A short time has passed, and Steve and Sam are at the diner and of course, they are in your section, you walk over and exchange greetings, you’re at work you have to pretend you’re happy. “Y/N please talk to Bucky; he doesn’t leave his room and he feels bad about what Sharon said.” You sighed slightly and rolled your eyes a bit “Why doesn’t he contact his 74 other girlfriends” Sam chuckled and looked you dead in your face “There are no 74 other girlfriends, Bucky isn’t the type to do that, hell I’m surprised at how good he was with you. Bucky is a loner, he’s over 100 years old with no practice when it comes to women, trust us.” Sam’s eyes went from super serious to pleading “Why should I trust you guys, you’re his best friends you could be covering for him.” You crossed your arms over your chest and stared "You don't have to but think about it. Would we really be okay with that type of behavior?" You shrugged your shoulders "I don't know what men think, but I'll think about it. I have to get back to work can you guys stay a bit and give me a ride?" They both nodded and you went to continue your shift, you had plans to talk to Bucky about what was said you just didn't know what you were going to say, and you didn't know what he was going to say.

Finally, your shift was over, and you met up with the guys. "Okay, I'm ready to talk to him." The three of you walked over to Sam's car, Steve opened the front passenger door for you and shut it after you were comfortably in the car, he got in the back and Sam drove to the compound. A short drive later you're outside the compound you take a deep breath and follow them inside, Steve showed you to Bucky's door, and you take another deep breath and knock on the door. "Go away, Steve!" You could hear his voice cracked from the other side of the door which made your heart break in half "It's not, Steve." You heard rapid movement and the door opened to reveal a very tired and sad Bucky. Your heart is now shattered. You did this to him, you hurt him. Well, Sharon did but you felt somewhat to blame. "Hi, Bucky." He blinked a few times and just stared "Y/N..." You rubbed your arm "Can we talk?" He nodded and moved to the side so you can walk in.

His room was dark and a mess. You didn't know Bucky that well, but you knew he wasn't a messy person at all. You sat on the edge of his bed and watched him walk over and sit next to you "Listen Bucky, I am very sorry for ignoring you, that comment really messed me up I like you a lot and I know I shouldn't have let her get in my head but that was the first time we hung out and to hear that I didn't know who to believe, I've been hurt before." You fiddled with your fingers while you tried to figure out what to say next, he saw your hands and gently took them into his. "I have never felt like this in my life, you bring out the best in me even if we only hung out once, the moment I saw you, I knew you were the one for me, and you confirmed it when I showed you my arm most people look at me and treat me differently, you don't and I appreciate that so much I cannot lose you."

You looked over at Bucky and smiled softly "You're not going to lose me, I'm here." He brought your hands up and kissed both of them "By the way I don't have 74 other girlfriends, I'm really hoping to have 1 that is if you want to." You smiled again and nodded "Of course I would love to." He pulled you into a hug sighing with relief "You already make me so happy" You pulled back softly pecking his nose "Now, why don't we clean up this room and go downstairs and I make us some food" He smiled and nodded his head. You walked over to the windows opening the curtains to finally let some light in the room. After cleaning Bucky's room for about an hour, you both go downstairs and into the kitchen. “Alright, what do you want to eat?” Bucky sat at the island and watched you look around the kitchen “What can you make?” You leaned against the counter and started naming things you could make “Ooh chicken alfredo sounds good” You smiled and started getting all the ingredients out, you looked back at Bucky who was just admiring you “Wanna help?” He nodded excitedly and stood up to come help “Okay, so what do you need me to do?” You looked around for the easiest task you reached over and handed him a pot "Fill this up with some water, maybe about halfway maybe a little more." Bucky can't mess up filling a pot with water, can he? "Is this good enough?" You nodded and instructed him to put it on the stove.

While you were cutting up the chicken you figured the water would be boiling but nope, he never turned the stove on, you giggled to yourself and turned the stove on when he wasn't paying attention. The two of you laughed and cooked. Finally, you were done and ready to eat, you both sat down, and Bucky looked down at his plate in amazement "This looks amazing" The two of you sat there in silence, enjoying the wonderful meal that you two prepared together, when in walks Sharon. You look up in disgust as she walks into the kitchen "Hey, one of Bucky's girlfriends is here, do the others know not to come by?" You could feel your blood boiling again and just as you were about to speak, Bucky spoke up instead "What the fuck is your problem?" Sharon looked at Bucky shocked by what he said but she stood firm "I just want her to know how much of a player you are." You rolled your eyes and continued eating, it seemed like Bucky had this handled, so you sat back and watched. "Y/N is my one and only girlfriend, and it's about time you respect her and me and everyone else in this compound." At this point, Bucky is now standing and staring straight into Sharon's eyes.

Sharon takes a step closer to the island. "Do you really want to go there with me Bucky?" Bucky walked around the island and stood firmly in front of Sharon, now it was time for you to step in you walked up behind Bucky and gently grabbed his right arm "It's not worth it, baby." You felt Bucky's arm relax and he slowly turned his head to look at you "You're right, Doll. Let's go continue our dinner in the living room." Bucky picks up your plates and walks into the living room, he sets them down on the coffee table and stands there with his hands on his hips. "Actually, you know what I have one more thing to say then I'm done." He turned around to face Sharon and took a deep breath "Ever since Steve stopped fucking you, you've been the biggest bitch imaginable, but one thing you are absolutely not going to do is, disrespect Y/N. You don't even know her and honestly, I would love to keep it that way so pack your shit and get out." Both you and Sharon stood there shocked. You never expected Bucky to say anything like that, that was the moment you realized you found the one for you.

Main Masterlist - Bucky Barnes Masterlist - Part 1

A/N: I really hope you guys like it; I tried my best to make it good for you guys. feedback is definitely appreciated along with constructed criticism, please the more the better. Tell me how I can make it better for you guys to read. :)

Tags: @megamindsecretlair @blackhawkfanatic @casey1-2007 @scorpiosaintt @buckysdoll85 @grdh90 @thedonswife13 @scott-loki-barnes @b3llair3

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

[ride-thedragon]

Before I start this, I don't want any hate towards this person, I won't include their user name, or the platform I got it from and if you do know leave it be but I want to talk about my issues with what they said. I don't know them.

This is really weird and reductive. I'm not saying you can't be a fan of Rhaena potentially getting Nettles' storyline even if I'm not, but the way this is framed is horrible.

Nettles specifically is George using stereotypes of black girls and women and subverting them.

Nettles is 'dark' and 'ugly' because it's a Valyrian beauty standard that is being upheld. It could very well simply be her black features that are being called ugly. Look at who says it in the books and look and who maintains it. They are all white.

Now I'm not one to say we can't have ugly characters, but I am one to impose something in the written narrative, and in this case, that plays out into George subverting racial stereotypes with Nettles. So, while she could be ugly, I also think there is a large possibility that she isn't. She could just look unambiguously black.

I'm not one to defend a white man against racism allegations, but not all the black and brown women are sexually promiscuous. George does have an orientalism issue, but let's not deny that there are characters like Missandei, Sarella, and Nymeria in the narrative. Summer Islander characters are a bit harder, but there is a real-world reason for them to be sexual, its not just George on his snow bunny arc. Their culture views it as a type of worship.

There are 3 fics under the Nettles / Addam Velayron tag, and I've read one that isn't like that. I'm not saying it's not plausible, I'm just saying out of three fics it's not that big of a deal. As for bigger Nettles fics and ships. it's a stretch to say that half are written in her own pov, but typically, her stories have a romantic arc because that's what most fanfics do. Create romantic arcs. And as someone who's read the majority of her fics (I'm being dead ass), it's not mindless sex. It's a conclusion to her romantic narrative arc about 75% of the time. Call it bias but I can't remember the last time I read a Nettles fic where the writers let her be a whore. We've failed on that mark. We have a snow bunny issue, but outside of that, it's not that serious (free my girls from the shackles of white men)

Moving on to the weird respectability politics. "Smart, tough, elegant, and not becoming the street urchin /ghetto stereotype like Nettles."

The only thing that stereotype doesn't have in common with that phrase is elegant. That's literally the only difference. I'm not American, so I'm not going to impose myself on that view, but I will speak to holding anyone to respectability politics. Black girls especially don't have to act one way to be better than others. There isn't one way to be black. That goes hand in hand with being both respectable and assimilating and 'ghetto'. It's reductive to say that anyone should be and applying the 'better' one to Rhaena and baela and the 'worse' one to Nettles is foolish and ignorant. I will have a bigger post on this soon.

As I've said countless times before, Rhaena taking Nettles' story is racist because they aren't interchangeable. Rhaena isn't black, nor is she poor or disposable within the narrative. Daemon isn't going to be miraculously proud of her. Nettles deserves her narrative. No one can cry the way Nettles does after the Battle of the Gullet. Not even Baela and Addam or Alyn. No one can have their life seen as disposable by Rhaenyra like Nettles can and no one can start the burned men but Nettles.

For the show, it doesn't make sense to take Nettles out entirely. There are way too many gaps to full when you can just add her character.

Lastly and all of this to say, you don't have to defend liking something, making stuff up is weird and acting as though it's a better choice to combine a black character and a non black character is crazy. It can just be a choice you like.

On the other hand, I want all three final girls because I can have them, and there is no reason not to.

[atopvisenyashill]

Do you… do you maybe want to share the nedcat sex headcanons?

alsdfj i got you anon

so emotional/timeline wise my headcanons are-

Ned actually knows a lot about sex because he grew up with Brandon and Robert in his ear talking about the women they'd been fucking but he sticks to missionary until after Sansa is born because he doesn't want Cat to think he's a man slut, he canNot get hard if he's thinking about Brandon or anything Brandon ever said to him even a little, and he's also like 75% sure they were just straight up lying to him.

Ned doesn't want to pressure her because he's unsure how long it takes to recover from birth and he's worried she hates him so he awkwardly asks if the birth was hard, how she's feeling, and Catelyn realizes he's asking if she's cleared to fuck and she's just like "yeah I'll come to your room tonight if you want" but Ned is like "no no i'll come to you!!" so the first few years, they're doing all their fucking in her room instead of his.

With the three year gap between Robb and Sansa, I think the first year or so the two of them are barely fucking. There's barely an eye contact because Catelyn still thinks he's mid and he always looks so serious and Ned keeps thinking about Brandon, going soft, and getting embarrassed (i'm an expert on grief and sexual dysfunction bro trust me on this) (i'm being serious here i got a lot of dead family members)

The crying incident happens like a month after the Ashara incident. Ned doesn't skip their Scheduled Sex Day, but the bruise he left takes forever to fade away and they're both really aware of it when they're fucking and he can't like, apologize even though he feels like the biggest asshole and she can't be mad at him because that's not how Proper Wives act, so it's just a lot of no eye contact sex until he's crying into her hair and trying to hide it. Catelyn feels so weird about it because she's like "he's crying over Ashara he hates me he wanted to marry her instead of me and we'll never be happy" but she's also Elder Sister Extreme so his crying makes her start playing with his hair, and then they're sad making out and both crying and he goes soft and they're both laughing at how deeply stupid they're being.

He comes to her room the next night to apologize for being a fucking wreck and then when they're banging - and it's going really well - he suggests she get on top and she's like...I can do that? Hell yes she can and it's real good.

They start fucking more spontaneously, with her dropping hints outside of Scheduled Sex Days that he could drop by if he wants, and Ned awkwardly asking if he can come by on other days, but before they really find a groove she's pregnant with Sansa and he's like "if we fuck it'll hurt the baby" but he notices Cat is clearly feeling some type of way about the fact that they stopped having sex and this is when Ned goes down on her for the first time.

Literally the moment she's cleared they start having sex again. I love that scene in the show where Ros says he rang all the bells in Winter's Town for a week after Sansa was born, because I just love the idea that Cat is feeling slightly bummed that this one came out with red hair and a girl at that (she wants a daughter eventually but what she wants is a son that looks like Ned) but Ned is so jazzed about being here for this birth and getting to hold Sansa when she's still a newborn and the birth was easy so they're both healthy, and keeps stopping random servants to be like "look at my baby i made this!!" that Cat just completely falls in love and is dropping hints about him visiting her rooms whenever he wants and Ned loves affection so. It's so good none of the kids are old enough to be scarred by how often their parents fuck yet.

Sometime after Arya is born and he's back from the Greyjoy Rebellion, they start getting super adventurous. He's going down on her in the godswood. She's going down on him in the middle of the day in his solar. One time she wears an old dress that's a lil too tight across the chest and he mumbles about visiting her later and she's just like you know what fuck it and they do it in a random room. He feels her up one time in the Sept but she's like i canNot do this with the Seven watching so he drags her to his room and it's not even lunchtime. They get ass over tits drunk at an Umber wedding and bang (really quickly and not very quietly) in a random hallway. Robb sees like the corner of Ned's ass one (1) time when they're fucking in the godswood and they calm down a little bit because Robb spends the rest of the month sullenly glaring at Ned while Jon is clearly trying to become one with whatever floor he's standing on because Robb obviously squealed immediately.

They start fucking in his room before Bran is born and she starts sleeping in there sometimes when they get tired out lmao. As they age, they gotta limber up a lil bit but that just means Ned has has an excuse to "massage" her aka feel her up. She will do that thing where she'll lightly massage his shoulders in public but it always gets him a lil rowdy (in an affectionate, loving way) and it makes Theon cackle and it makes Robb want to die and Jory is always saying he hopes he's happy like that with his wife while Robb is begging him to shut the fuck up.

Ned would never grab her ass in public but he definitely checks her out with zero shame in front of the gods and everyone because the pregnancies gave her a huge ass and sometimes Arya will narrow her eyes at him because she doesn't know what the fuck he's staring at but she knows it's inappropriate and then Ned feels guilty for being horny in front of his kids.

specific "what are they doing in bed" stuff-

most of the weird shit they get into is curiosity. neither of them is ever trying to be sexy (he doesn't want to pressure her, proper ladies don't enjoy they endure, etc) but she is naturally curious and they find each other so completely sexy that they just want to try everything to see how it feels.

they get into orgasm denial (for her). starts out as just like, they're unsure of what to do, he's fairly certain Robert was making up all that stuff about his girls screaming in ecstasy but once they find a groove, Ned finds he really enjoys like, methodically edging her until she's tearing her own hair out and then getting really rough, and it becomes a game to see how close he can get her without pushing her over, how long she can stay on the edge without going over, and then snowballs into how long they can fuck ~just for him~ until she's like, inconsolable. this is mostly because ~proper ladies don't ask for it~ right so Catelyn is always framing her own sexual desire as I'm Sure You Have Needs My Lord so Ned becomes determined to make her admit that she really wants him.

He goes down on her literally all the time. Man dreams about eating the pussy every night.

obviously Ned has a canon breeding kink a mile wide but that's because when they're fucking Catelyn is talking to him about making another son. she picked that up from a Manderly wedding they went to. she doesn't go down on him as often because he's like no it goes Inside You Cat and it's the most hilarious, most sexy thing he gets huffy about.

they do reverse cowgirl all the time specifically so he can watch her hair bounce all around. she really loves when she's in his lap and they're just kinda grinding and making out and he's playing with her hair because she really likes the feeling of her chest against his.

they go hard he has bruised her hips a lot but it's okay because she scratches the fuck out of his back. they're both really apologetic the first time it happens except as it turns out not only does Cat get a thrill out of pressing down on the bruises during the day, Ned likes looking at the scratches so they start doing it on purpose. he's really careful to never bruise her arms however (he did one time kind of accidentally because he was holding her wrists above her head and she was weird and moody all week until he realized he'd triggered The Bad Memory) but he will leave fingerprint bruises all over her thighs and chest. She'll scratch up his chest enough to draw blood and he'll be fingering the scrape and Luwin is like why do you two do this to me. make sure she washes her hands before at least so it doesn't get inflamed seven hells.

She catches Theon doing anal with a servant and gets curious and brings it to Ned and she likes how it's just a little painful and overwhelming. Ned never finishes inside her ass though he thinks it's really weird, so he finishes on her belly usually which he feels is a waste until she started scooping it up and licking it off her fingers again, mostly out of curiosity than anything, and he uh, really likes that.

He still refuses to come in her mouth though lmao.

[theacecouple]

I didn't see anything from somerton until about a month ago when he popped up in my recs and I ended up binging his content for about 2 days, but something kept being off and I noticed some of the lies/ignorance, and there was something really dismissive and weird about how he talked about aspecs and women in particular... I stopped watching him cause I watched one of you guys' podcast and realized I also just felt like crap after his videos.

I did end up getting his rwrb video in my recs when it came out cause of the binge and I just remember leaving a comment about the way he talked about aces in it. It was especially upsetting seeing people in the comments who were simply happy he mentioned aspecs at all. He replied to me just saying his cowriter was ace. I don't reply to youtube comments but I just remember wanting to point out that same co-writer he was using as a shield said aces don't face discrimination or conversion therapy, and in that video wrote that aces have to have sex to find out they don't like it. Being something doesn't make you instantly know everything about it, as somerton himself demonstrates with his ignorant comments about gay history.

I'm not really one of his victims since I avoided him as soon as I found him, but I feel bad for all the people he tricked and/or guilted into believing him. I hope some other creators make videos exposing the weird way he manipulated the queer community, cause I think a lot of young folks could use a breakdown of it.

Anyways I just wanted to finish by saying I love you guys' work and learning from you. You helped me understand why certain phrases make me upset, and that and watching your podcast back to back with his videos helped me figure out what I didn't like about Somerton, so you helped protect me from him and not convince myself I was just being Weird as I often do when I get Bad Vibes from someone.

Thank you so much for reaching out <3

It's so fascinating that you stopped watching Somerton after finding us. We've tried to keep things as professional as possible these last 2 years by only citing directly harmful things he's done to us and direct members of our community, and even then it was sparingly and as kind as possible.

When we first spoke with him about including Asexual representation in his future Telos endeavors, he assured us that not only was there already an Ace in the writers' room, but that two real, fully-fleshed out Ace characters were already being written. This was encouraging! After all, we had no way of knowing if he was the kind of cis gay man who loathes Aces or doesn't view us as queer. Since this didn't seem to be the case and rep is important, we supported him. We now deeply regret not doing our research on him first.

Even before his video "The Queer Erasure of Asexuality", we started watching a few of his YouTube videos for the first time and some of the subtext was NOT kind to our community. Subtle things that we'd see get repeated by his fans over and over again, like how queer art is bad these days because all the "artists" and the "exciting queers" who "really lived" died in the AIDS crisis. Or the implication that the Interview with the Vampire reboot was *more queer* because the vampires actually had gay sex on screen, despite this being a complete departure from the source material and neglecting the fact that Anne Rice's vampires have always been undeniably queer *and also* sexless. In fact, we didn't say his name, but we did mention some vague "bad takes" we saw about the series in our podcast episodes 75 & 76 The Triumphs and Failures of AMC’s Interview with the Vampire Part 1 and Part 2...At least some of those came from James.

We did not see his rwrb video, because we had long given up on him by that point, but it is not at all surprising to hear that he had bad takes and also hid behind Nick once again to shield himself from any criticism. It was very much his MO, and yet we're also certain we've heard him chastise straight women for using the "I have a gay friend" defense.

It is so good to hear that our podcast has been helpful to you. There are FAR too many Aces who are willing to let bad behavior or ill-informed takes slide just because someone with a decent following noticed us. We deserve so much better.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

I am simply doing my civic duty🤷🏼‍♀️

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

Thanks cal💕💕💕

💋

75 for 🔼:

---

“Yeah?” He asks. 

“Yeah,” Eddie nods. “It’s always better with you around.”

If he keeps saying nice shit like this, Buck might stop breathing. 

“Thanks, Eddie,” he rasps. “I, uh… I really miss it.”

“You’re really missed,” Eddie shrugs. 

Buck’s cheeks are hot the whole drive home. 

iv.

It’s an exhibit on the wondrous world of… Decomposition. Literally. Dead things breaking down in the dirt. A group promoting composting is putting it on. It’s not Eddie’s idea of a thrilling Tuesday evening, but Chris and Buck seem to be enjoying themselves. They’ve both got that inherent curiosity that doesn’t seem limited by subject. He likes that about them. Wishes he had it, really. It’s a small part of the long list of reasons why he thinks it’s good for Chris to be around Buck. He encourages it with equal enthusiasm. 

It’s an interesting experience for Eddie, going with the two of them to something like this. He can’t really find it in himself to be interested in the compost stuff, but he watches Buck and Chris with rapt attention. Like they are the most fascinating things on earth. 

Buck is pointing to a display of different stages of an apple composing and making a joke about buying Eddie in the backyard for science. Chris is giggling like it’s the funniest shit he’s ever heard. And Eddie just feels warm. The same kind of warm he’d felt that day on the beach with Shannon, before she’d dropped a bomb on him. Like he’s looking at a picture he could melt into. Like he wants to stay right here. 

When they turn around to walk back to him, Eddie has the strange and overwhelming urge to reach out and grab Buck’s hand. He has to bunch his fist in his pocket. This isn’t a way he’s supposed to feel. But he’d be lying if he said it was the first time. 

The thing is, Eddie doesn’t get like this. He doesn’t wonder about men. He doesn’t wonder about other women, even. His whole adult life, it was only ever Shannon. He didn’t lust after movie stars. He’d never had much of an interest in porn. When people flirted with him on calls, he never entertained it. He thought he was just… Really monogamous. Now he’s wondering if he’s full of shit. If he’s a little fucked up. 

He loves his wife. He loves Shannon. He wants her back. Even if she never wants to take him back. He knows there will always be a part of him that wishes they were together. Coming home the other day, to her and Chris together, talking to the baby, had only reaffirmed it. They could be a family. Of course, he’s not going to act on that. He promised friends and co-parents first, so that’s what he will do. But he misses the idea of what he’d imagined for them so much sometimes.

And, simultaneously - and growing in prominence - he finds himself meandering into the territory of wanting Buck, too. Which, once again, he’s not supposed to want. Because… Because he doesn’t want men. He never ever has. Not that there would be a problem… Or, like… Not that other people can’t. Just… He doesn’t. Eddie has a path laid out for him and this is not on it. 

But then again, failing his wife, losing her, getting her back, only to have her leave him again wasn’t either. Having a baby and a divorce at the same time wasn’t either. And yet, here he is anyway. So if Eddie finds himself wanting to reach out and touch Buck’s face sometimes, if he’s struck by the thought, god, he’s gorgeous, that’s just another unexpected reason to chastise himself. 

He’s not going to do anything about Shannon. He’s not going to do anything about Buck. He is just going to stuff it all down into the usual places. Lock it up. Soldier forward. That’s the best thing for everyone. The best thing for his kids. Eddie won’t make a big deal out of wanting. He will always prioritize the correct course of action. 

[clatterbane]

My first real appointment through orthopedics to finally try and get set up with an aftermarket leg is coming up on Monday.

The previous referral last year just didn't work out, for multiple reasons, and I was a bit bummed over that. I think part of the problem was it falling through the cracks because nobody really seems to be sure what to do with somebody showing up from completely outside their system already minus a leg.

But, we thought to ask that new endo for a fresh referral. So, I did get an intake appointment set up through ortho, with no schedule collisions this time.

In one way, I'm excited to hopefully get moving toward with the process of getting set up with a prosthetic. I would really like to be able to get around better again! And, you know, be able to take my sorry ass off paved surfaces and up steps and stuff again!

OTOH, due to the person I am? I am trying not to borrow too much trouble and drive myself crazy worrying in the meantime. Especially the closer that draws.

Frankly, not least that somebody is gonna just say, "Oops, it's been so long and this entire situation does not fit into any familiar procedures. We just can't/won't help you!”

Yeah, I know there is going to be an awful lot of PT ahead, likely before I even get to the point of any fitting. I have some other concerns about that, after some sufficiently unpleasant experiences as a troublesome-bendy individual, with rehab-focused PT after injuries/knee surgeries (directly coming from the probably-EDS) in the past. My knees are also pretty damned terrible, and also kinda further destabilized by said surgical tinkering.

But, I am much older and more confident now--and not nearly as eager to take any "no pain, no gain!" bullshit seriously. Much less push in ill-advised ways until I do my bendy self an injury.

But yeah, even right now? I would place good money if I had it on the likelihood that I am currently in better shape than 75% of the new patients they see much sooner than this after surgery. Who are statistically much older and otherwise in pretty damned bad health. Probably I've been staying more physically active over the past few years than a lot of that demographic have been able to, even under the current circumstances

Mean age at the time of the first registered amputation in our sample was 74 years (SD 14); women were older (78, SD 14, CI 77–79) than men (72, SD 14, CI 72–73). 43% of the patients were 80 years or older by the time of the primary amputation (Figure 3). The mortality rate of the registered patients was 19% within 6 months and 24% within the 1st year after the last registered amputation. The 1-year mortality rate after TFA was 40%, after KD 38%, and after TTA 24%.

("Lucky" transtibial/TTA here. Those figures are from the Swedish national database, BTW. Because there is one. You see dire mortality rates after this sort of surgery come up? That's a lot of why. Those demographics and the occasional nasty accident requiring amputation seriously skew things.)

There were reasons they kept going on about how young and healthy my middle-aged ass that had just barely cheated death was when I was stuck in the hospital in Romford. And therefore considered a candidate for prosthetics at all under that system. Not going off on that rant right now.

Still, the majority of those elderly patients in otherwise not great shape DO get successfully set up on replacement legs here. Which is encouraging, that they are likely not looking hard for excuses to avoid spending the money. (We're talking the equivalent of a new not-cheap car, back in the US. Region Skåne is still set to lay out a fair chunk of change here. We are thankfully not directly.)

I do rationally doubt that I would get turned away just because I have been off that leg for several years now, and my knees were terrible even before that. And I fucking suck at trying to use forearm crutches, which I am not at all used to and have a very different feel than the type I do have too much experience on.

But yeah, my brain just won't leave things alone as usual. That's just one of the crappiest possibilities it's seized onto right now.

[sushiwriterhere]

drive - part i

summary: "Despite your intensely professional appearance, you didn’t seem out of place in the slightest. And by god, you were breathtaking.”  rating: explicit for sexual content (18+ mdni) pairing: eventual frankie morales x f!reader  word count: 3.2k warnings: pseudo enemies-to-lovers, light sexism, author pretends they understand car terminology, potentially ooc!, no use of y/n, male masturbation.  notes: i love love frankie <3 thank you to @tremendum for beta'ing :') this is my first attempt at nsfw content – please feel free to tell me what you think!!!! tagging: @sebsxphia @magpie-to-the-morning - pls let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!

She was beautiful. ‘84? ‘85? Frankie couldn’t remember what the sheet Pope passed him had said when he’d looked over it briefly—just to make sure he was opening the hood of the right car. Besides, whatever was written there probably didn’t matter. In Frankie’s experience, the customers never really knew what was wrong or needed fixing. Sure, the type to waltz in with a vintage, manual BMW at least knew something beyond imitating the sound the engine would make when they’d try and go over 75 (“Look man, I just need her sounding right before I drive down to the Vineyard next weekend with the wife.”) but Frankie liked inspecting the cars himself. Pope had once told him he knew cars, helicopters—machinery better than people. 

Maybe he was right. Machinery always had a response, you could always figure out what was making it tick, what was making the wheel stick when you turned too hard to the right, why the brakes made that sound when it was about to rain. People were often the same, but that’s why Frankie liked cars more than people. They talked to him.

Honestly, he almost felt bad for the car in front of him–whichever asshole suit had picked her up clearly wasn’t treating her right. She desperately needed a new paint job and a really good work over with a clay bar. There was a ding in the front bumper that seemed like it had come from a bit of overzealous joyriding, and he had that feeling in his gut that shining a blacklight around the interior would reveal a shitty Jackson Pollock imitation. 

“Well, we’ll see what we can do. Frankie’s our best guy, he’ll take good care of her.” Pope’s voice rang throughout the shop, drifting into the back. 

“I appreciate it. One of the partners recommended you, so I have high hopes.” 

A woman’s voice. Frankie wondered whose wife or assistant that would be, they had regulars but none with that voice.  He turned around slightly, attempting to keep his gaze hidden behind the hood. And there you were. 

Pope was taller than you, but he could tell that what you lacked in height you made up for in aura. You were looking Pope directly in the eye, arms crossed loosely, one hip cocked. Despite your intensely professional appearance, you didn’t seem out of place in the slightest. And by god, you were breathtaking. 

Frankie never felt terribly insecure about his looks–he knew he was attractive; maybe not as suave as Pope, but women found him charming. Frankie had had a string of girlfriends and lovers since high school, some serious, some not. More than one had found cause to argue with him about the amount of women who pursued him even while he was in a relationship, but even still, that part never really made sense to him. But when he looked at you, he knew he was looking at someone who men would fall over themselves to hold your attention for even a moment. 

He felt his feet moving before he registered that it was happening, and realized he was making his way to the shop front. Frankie didn’t enjoy talking to customers, he told himself, but he wanted to know what your boss had done to bring him such a beautiful car in such condition. That was why he found himself pushing open the door that connected the shop to the workshop. 

“The man of the hour!” Pope exclaimed, clapping him on the back, “This is Frankie.”

“Nice to meet you, Frankie. I hope you’ll take good care of her, she’s treasured dearly.” Your voice was rich and velvety, and the brief smile that graced your lips made him feel like he was staring at the sun.

But he had to go and open his mouth. “I’ll certainly do my best. But I have to ask, what on earth did the owner do to put that ding in the bumper? I’m sure he was having fun but it’s gnarly.”

It was like a bucket of ice water being thrown over a campfire–you raised an eyebrow and pressed your lips into a flat line. Pope inhaled (or exhaled– Frankie couldn’t tell), all he could hear was the sound of him holding his breath. Fuck.

“Well, I don’t know exactly what the previous owner was up to, but I don’t plan on joyriding. I bought her secondhand.” 

“Oh right, of course. My apologies.” Frankie could feel the flush spread from the base of his neck to the tops of his ears and onto his face– leave it to him to stick his foot in his mouth in front of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. Universe: 1, Frankie: 0. 

Pope coughed lightly, clearly attempting to draw your attention away from Frankie and towards a stack of forms sitting on the counter. The moment had been broken, and Frankie at least had enough sense to quietly excuse himself back into the shop where he probably belonged. 

Okay, scratch everything he had ever said about having any sort of charm with women. Ever. At all. Every piece of attention he had ever received must’ve been a fluke because only someone without any sense at all would ever manage to put their foot in their mouth as hard as he just had. And it wasn’t the best thing to admit, but it was made all the worse by the fact that you were incredibly stunning. 

Maybe he’d just never speak again.

-

“¿Qué pasó, hermano? What the hell were you thinking?” Pope’s voice echoed throughout the shop, reaching Frankie even though he’d attempted to tuck himself away under the Ferrari that he had to service every six months. “Best looking woman I’ve seen in months and you manage to say the stupidest shit within 30 seconds of seeing her face.”

Frankie tried to keep himself hidden without responding, but failed to remember that Pope could find him any place he attempted to hide in the shop. 

Never a moment of peace, even in mortification, Frankie thought bitterly to himself. 

“Hey.” There was Pope’s face, inches away from his own, his eyes alight with mirth, clearly taking plenty of joy from Frankie’s embarrassment. 

He prickled at the close scrutiny–under a car was supposed to be a safe space for Frankie, and yet. He ignored Pope for the moment, unwilling to face exactly what he’d done. It wasn’t like he had burnt down the shop or permanently ruined its reputation but there was a particularly bad sting about embarrassing himself in front of a beautiful woman. 

Pope stood, clearly not looking to spend as long as it took to get Frankie’s attention hunched to one side. He rapped his knuckles on the side of the car twice, indicating he was deep in thought despite Frankie’s determined silence. Frankie maintained a straight face and tried to bring himself back to the headspace where rubbing the dirt from the nooks and crannies of a stupidly expensive car was the most interesting thing in the world. Perfection, til it shined, til he could eat off of–

“I honestly don’t think it was that bad. I think there’s hope for you yet, Fish.” Pope’s face was back. 

“I basically told her to get back into the kitchen.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t be so dramatic.” Pope had rounded the Ferrari and was tugging on the leg of Frankie’s overalls, slowly pulling him into the light, “Besides, you’re the one who knows what he’s doing. Regardless, she’ll have to play nice when she picks it up, and you can make your move then.”

Frankie felt his eyebrows touch his hairline, “Make my move? Pope, be serious.”

“I am serious.” The smile that was threatening to split his face in half said otherwise. Asshole. 

A beat passed as Frankie held eye contact, hoping the incredibly unimpressed look on his face would convey exactly what he thought of the situation. Pope broke first, bursting into laughter, the kind that shook his whole body and would make him complain of a sore stomach later. 

“Oh god, Fish, I think the last time I’ve seen a woman look at you like that was when that one girl at the bar thought you were cat-calling her instead of Benny.” Pope finally finished laughing, sucking in a shaky breath and wiping the tears from his eyes. “Look, I apologized to her once and explained the whole wives-slash-assistants situation, and she just rolled her eyes and said she ‘got it’. Just call her yourself and apologize, offer to walk her through the inspection when you’re done.”

In all honesty, that wasn’t the worst plan he had ever come up with (no, really, Frankie had PTSD from not just one of the others).  At the very least Frankie could do a little groveling, and hope you didn’t think he was the type to tell you you belonged in a kitchen. Plus, it would mean that if you said yes, talking about cars was one of the things in life Frankie really knew, so you could see he wasn’t a complete bumbling fool. Wishful thinking made his mind wander to the thought of you actually impressed. Hey, if you loved cars you clearly cared.

-

By the time he got home, Frankie felt like he’d been through the wringer emotionally and physically. He hated to admit it, but spending all those years in the military, and then all those years afterwards contorting himself so he could work on cars was really taking a toll on his body. Sure, it was rewarding and he thought he understood a bit what doctors felt like with their diagnoses and treatments and whatnot, but at the same time there were so many days where he thought he might just give up and ask Pope for a spot behind the desk. Maybe a title like Manager. He knew the second he asked, he would get it, without all the usual ribbing. They all needed a goddamn break, and despite his jovial demeanor Pope really cared about their little group. The door was always open to Benny when he decided fighting wasn’t for him anymore, and they made good enough money that Frankie could afford to relax a little bit. But he was just Type A enough that the thought of a desk job made him want to scream. So he kept at it. 

Going through the motions of his evening routine, Frankie thanked him from Sunday for having the foresight to pack away leftovers, and himself from that morning for making the bed so he would be able to slide into neatly tucked covers. Some habits from the military died hard, others much easier. 

After a quiet dinner and a much needed shower, Frankie decided there was no point staying up with a beer or trying to exercise his mind by reading and called it a night. But despite the exhaustion from the day, his mind was racing. He kept replaying the mere thirty-second interaction he’d had with you, changing what he said each time to try and imagine a different reaction, a different outcome. What if he’d been smooth and made a joke about your car, would you have laughed? What did your laugh sound like?

It was at that moment that he realized he knew very little about you. He’d gone back and read the file that accompanied your keys– referred by someone from the law firm that constantly sent them new customers. It was then that it had hit him, likely exactly who he’d suggested was a mere assistant. Frankie didn’t know a lot about the law, but he suspected that having enough money to throw around to purchase a vintage BMW (even if not for joyriding) meant that you were senior enough for it to matter.

Frankie always knew he had a thing for women with power. When a high school girlfriend bossed him around a little in bed a few months into their young relationship after a bad fight about some nonsense, he’d felt his head get a little floaty. It was really hammered home during Basic when a female sergeant had laid into him and a group of his buddies at the time. He didn’t remember much about the incident, just that he wasn’t really involved. In his ever quiet, ever observant demeanor he’d just managed to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. But that doesn’t really matter when you’re in the military. You’re part of the group. Your individualism is systematically taken away from you– the haircuts, the uniforms, the orders. 

So when he stood in a line with these eight other knuckleheads, arms clasped tightly behind his back, feet shoulder width apart, the bead of sweat that had run down his back wasn’t really about the temperature in the room. The way he felt the need to swallow repeatedly from how dry his mouth was wasn’t about his lack of hydration in the twenty-four hours prior. 

Almost embarrassingly, he couldn’t even remember the woman’s face. She’d had her hair slicked back in a tight bun, military issue. She had a powerful voice but wasn’t yelling. The talking-to was stern, filled with exasperated threats and warnings of what would happen to them if there was a “next time”. 

But he remembered how she had made him feel. The way her voice commanded his presence–he’d felt the urge to drop to his knees and make the situation right however he could, however she might let him. He’d wanted to obey and continue obeying. 

And then there was you; the way you had commanded the space around you, looked Pope right in the eyes, not shying away. The images that floated to the front of his mind were unwitting, he definitely hadn’t invited himself to linger on what you looked like. The way you held yourself, the flow of your hair, the straight set of your shoulders as if you were trying to take up more space than you physically could. Your suit was perfectly ironed, crisp front folds in the slacks, the sleeves breaking just right over your slender wrists. Your eyes were piercing. 

They had women come into the shop all the time, but again, they were usually assistants or wives. It seemed like you knew that. And when Frankie had opened his stupid mouth, insinuating that your boss or your husband was the one who had hit the front bumper, the stare you had leveled him with felt like it had flayed him open. There again was that feeling bubbling to the surface, of wanting to be good, to obey, to make it right. The moment you opened your mouth it was over for him–the smooth lilt of your voice could read the morning news and he’d absorb every word, hang on every syllable. 

Frankie kicked his feet in the sheets a bit, willing himself to focus on falling asleep. But like most things in life, the more you tell yourself not to think about the forbidden fruit, the more it’ll be all that’s on your mind. And true to that, Frankie could see nothing in his mind’s eye but you. 

Something tugged in his gut, and he tried to ignore it. It wasn’t right, but he couldn’t help himself. He could feel just how hard he was, and he knew that it didn’t matter if he ignored it, he wouldn’t be able to will this one away. Besides, it would just be one time, just to get these thoughts of you out of his system and then it would be fine. 

Slipping a hand into his sweatpants he grasped himself tightly. Fuck. If there was one benefit from working with your hands, Frankie had to admit the edge of roughness from his calluses while touching himself was definitely it. It was just on the right side of painful, and Frankie let his mind wander. 

Just this once.

He would apologize–he would be heartfelt and sincere, let you know how sorry he was. He’d call you and beg for forgiveness and you’d offer him a “we’ll see”, before hanging up. You’d arrive and watch him, unimpressed as he gave you the rundown. And inevitably, he’d mess up. 

“First making me out to be just someone’s wife, someone’s assistant, now you can’t even explain this to me? I wonder what Santiago keeps you around for.” You’d raise an eyebrow at him, expectant. 

And Frankie would show you, he’d show you exactly why people keep him around (maybe not Santiago, but)–because if there was one thing that Frankie loved, aside from cars and an ice cold beer, it was eating pussy. Never mind all the jokes during Basic about how big his dick was, what Frankie really took pleasure from was going down on women. The first time a girlfriend had let him, he thought he’d gone to heaven. 

Something tightened in his chest as Frankie thought about what it would be like to go down on you. He couldn’t help but imagine you in the backseat of that expensive car of yours, work slacks tossed somewhere in a haste to remove them, eyes wild and lips swollen from kissing. 

Stopping the movements of his hand momentarily, he reached into the drawer of his nightstand to pull out a well-loved bottle of lube. In his rush, he squeezed out a far-too-generous amount, and all of a sudden instead of the deliciously dry slide of his hand around his cock, everything was soaking wet. Sheets be damned, he tightened his grip and twisted his wrist just in that way he really liked.

Fuck, he would love to get his mouth on you, to hear the sounds you’d make as he ate you out for his own pleasure.  

He had to admit that beyond the part of him that wanted to submit to a powerful woman like you, there was also the part of him that knew he would revel in seeing you on your knees for him, cockdrunk and begging for more. You’d have that lipstick on, but it would be just on the right side of smudged from kissing him and licking your lips. Your mascara would have run just a bit, enough to make you look messy and fucked out, that if you looked in the mirror you’d flush from how unkempt, how unruly you looked. 

Before he could stop himself, an image flashed in his minds’ eye: you, bent over the back seat of your flashy car, legs on the ground on your tippy toes in a pair of high heels, skirt rucked up over your ass. He had one hand on the back of your neck, pressing your cheek into the worn leather seats as your head turned to the side to give your room to breathe, and more importantly, beg. Your panties were wet and sticking to you, and the inner parts of your thighs were shining with your arousal.

It was the thought of tucking your panties to the side and gently pushing into your tight, wet, heat that sent Frankie over the edge. He grunted as his cum shot up his chest and his mind filled with static. 

He lay there for just a moment, just letting the orgasm wash over him like a tidal wave. In the aftermath, there was the tipped over bottle of lube on the nightstand, a soiled t-shirt, and just enough guilt to make him want to call in sick.

Fuck.

[justinewt]

Per Ardua Ad Astra - THOSE ABOUT TO DIE Chapter Two

[THOSE ABOUT TO DIE MASTERLIST]

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Summary: After a whole month in Rome, she was starting to like her life in the city, though she never stopped longing for her homeland, and her brothers. She prayed they would be reunited one day but when Aelius - the sailor that got her on the merchant's ship - reappeared, it perturbed the great day that she was having, after Tenax allowed her to attend games at the Circus Maximus. And health complication made for a very painful few days afterwards. But as she always did, she endured.

Words: 4k

Warnings: title means "through adversity/struggle to the stars" // Those about to die (no spoilers yet), 1st person (somewhat unreliable narrator - doesn't mean that she lies about the events, just that it's her recollection/perception of them), blood/abortion, mention of SA and murder

On the 28th of August 75 CE, about a month after I arrived in Rome, - and exactly a month and 9 days after I got stuck on that boat -, there were gamed held at the Circus Maximus, on the occasion of a festival for the God Sol and the Goddess Luna, where all the races would take place. These games were started with a parade in the city, which I learned was called the pompa circensis. I thought I’d have to beg Tenax to let me attend the parade and the games, but it actually didn’t take a lot of convincing. I merely asked and he told me to go, pretending not to care about it. I didn't know if he cared or not but, in any case, I got to wander around the city on my own, taking in the cheerfulness and excitement of the crowd. I couldn’t believe that I would feel this much joy after what I went through to get there but I welcomed it. I followed the Romans to the Circus Maximus, bought myself a ticket and ran up the stairs to get a nice seat in the stands, watching the athletic events and beasts hunts and cheered for the chariot races. I leapt to my feet and everyone in the stadium chanted Scorpus’ name after he won. He waved at us and gave me a smile after crossing eyes with me – I was in the lower stands, right above the stall he stopped by.

“Ah, my favorite Spaniard.” I chuckled, the smile on my face getting even bigger as I leaned over the railing to talk to him as the stablehands brought the horses back inside. He got off his chariot, handing the reins to a stablehand.

“You were incredible.”

“I am, after all, the great Scorpus, but – Fortuna blesses me with your support.” He brought a hand to his heart and then blew me a kiss. He knew his worth and wasn’t shy to show his confidence. I liked Scorpus. He made me laugh with his manners, and he was very handsome. I really liked him. Everytime we spoke, there were only a couple of thoughts going on in my head; that he was, as I said, handsome and that his accent was beyond attractive. I now realize I probably – definitely – romanticized him too much. I didn’t care that he was a drunk, and I was oblivious to the fact he was constantly meeting with prostitutes. I saw these men and women on the streets but never thought much of them, and Tenax understandably forbade me from going to places remotely close to pleasure houses. I wasn’t interested in those places anyway.

Tenax stepped out and looked up at me, “How are you enjoying the games?”

“Greatly. The games are just – amazing!” I glanced at the thousands of people sat all around the stadium. Tenax looked glad I was having such a great time.

I was really starting to get used to life in Rome, working for Tenax; taking bets, serving clients at the tavern and prepping horses with Gavros before the races. It got me running around quite a lot. The stables were a couple of kilometres away from the tavern and the entrance of the stadium. I also came to realize, rather quickly, that Tenax wasn’t as heartless and impassible as he made it seem, but I was quite content to be on his good side because I knew this wasn’t entirely an act either, if he held a grudge against you or you owed him something – you were screwed. I didn’t see anything like that happen – it happened in the shadows, and I was not meant to know anything about his business and clearly, I wasn’t going to ask about it – but I saw the men who worked for him, sometimes leaving the tavern after talking to Tenax.

They were nice to me and all, but I could imagine them tracking down some guy for Tenax, following the through the streets, at the dead of night. I would lie in my bed, in the corner of the room at the back of his flat, and look at the moon outside the window when I knew Tenax wasn’t home because he was out and about and I imagined what was the issue, but I was so tired from running around all day, I always fell asleep quickly, woken up by the sunlight, or if I turned in my sleep and rolled on my wrong shoulder. We were busy during the day – there were a few dozens of races every week. Festivals like this happened as often as races, but such grand circus games happen on specific occasions like that day, and it was one of the few times I attended such events alongside the citizens of Rome. I would usually be at the betting tavern and then watch the races through small opening in the stalls’ doors with Tenax. At the midday break, people went out of the stadium to eat – most went to the Forum a little further and a few dozen people filled Tenax’s tavern and so I worked for a bit. I didn’t mind – I was happy to move a bit after sitting for so long. The thrill of the games made me quite efficient I must say.

“Wine please.”

“Here.” I turned around, carafe in hand, my gaze following my hands as I poured the drink in the man’s cup. I froze when he wrapped his hand around my wrist suddenly, some wine spilling on the table. The gasp I let out was drowned out by the ambient loudness of the tavern. When the man said my name, I finally looked at him and I was in shock.

“Aelius—” I couldn’t believe it was him.

“I saw you in the parade… I’d been looking for you. Oh, Gods, Aldea – I am so sorry for what happened, I— they threw me in the holds the whole day, and then I learned that you were locked in the captain's cabin...” I felt his apologies were genuine and he felt guilty about what happened, but I did not want to have that conversation with him there and then. This whole ordeal was something I wanted to forget and the mere sight of him was just reminding me of it. He was the living reminder that I left my family for a stupid reason – because I thought I loved him. I wanted him gone and I was getting frustrated and angry with myself for just standing there and letting him go on. “Aldea, I heard you scream that night – the whole crew heard it.”

I spoke, but it was barely a whisper, “please, let go of me.” I tried to yank his hand away but did so quite weakly and my arm was just pulled back towards him. It made me lean forward. The garment I wore over my dress, wrapped around my shoulder and secured with a brooch to hide the sling in which my arm was still in at the time, fell a little and showed the top of said sling and my drooping shoulder. It was quite obvious that something was wrong – it looked like I had no collarbone except for a bump in the middle of the swollen area. I saw his eyes fall on my shoulder and managed to free myself from his grip – though his grip wasn’t actually that tight – and I straightened up, pulling back my garment and was about to walk away when he stood up to stop me. I saw the worry in his eyes, but I didn’t want any of it.

“I knew he must have hurt you. I should have done something… I wanted to go find you, when they took you to be sold as a slave in Rome but – I couldn’t. Then I heard you’d been bought by this man, this Tenax, a criminal. I needed to check on you.”

“Please, just leave.” I looked around, searching for Tenax desperately. I didn’t feel in any danger – Aelius would never hurt me – but I wanted him gone. That was the only thing I could think about as I tried to not listen to what he was saying – it was too painful to hear and be reminded of. Then I saw him near the betting desk, in the distance. He was looking in my direction and saw the man in front of me, his hand on my arm. He didn’t know what was happening, but he did not look happy about it and I couldn’t tell which of us his displeasure was directed at. “I have to go. Just leave.” I avoided looking at Aelius and made my way towards Tenax, almost running into a man that was getting out of his seat. Aelius took a few steps after me, but I saw, from the corner of my eye, one of Tenax’s men blocking him and pushing him in the other direction. Once I reached Tenax and looked back, both of them were gone. I just hoped Aelius wouldn’t fight back and get hurt.

“Who was this?” He enquired.

“It’s just – it’s the sailor who got me on the merchant’s boat.”

“Tell me his name.” I was reluctant to tell him at first, knowing he might hurt for whatever reason, but I figured rather quickly that he would find that piece of information even if I wasn’t the one to give it to him.

“Aelius.”

“Go home. Go.” He insisted, repeating themselves after I didn’t move at first but I didn’t wait for him to raise his voice again and left the betting tavern, walking back to the apartment without stopping. Claudia opened the door, and I simply told her that Tenax sent me home for the afternoon. I saw she wanted to tell me something and thought she was going to ask about why he had sent me home, so I changed the subject before she even brought it up and told her about the games and that I was happy Tenax allowed me to attend but her face stayed the same throughout my brief monologue and I went quiet. She looked concerned. Her question took me aback.

“When did you last bleed?”

“I, uh… I don’t– I don’t know, uh—” I really thought about it and came to the realization that the last time I bled was almost two months ago and I froze for a second, staring into space, before daring to look up at Claudia. “In the beginning of Julius, I think.”

“Two months ago. I was beginning to wonder. You might be pregnant.”

“What? I—” My voice faded, as if my breath had been taken away.

“Were you taken advantage of? On that merchant's boat.” Claudia’s disdain for that man transpired in her voice as she mentioned him and though I was uncomfortable, it reassured me to see that she wasn’t angry with me.

I swallowed harshly, looking down at my feet, “Yes.”

“Stay here.” She left me in the apartment, and I locked the door behind her. I waited, anxiously, walking back and forth in the kitchen, glancing towards the bedroom doors, open. I glanced at the front door, no one was climbing up the stairs. Claudia had been gone for a little while and would still be gone for at least twice as long. I stepped towards Tenax’s room, quietly, as if someone was going to hear me and I looked around the room. A bed against the wall, a few furnitures. It was modest but quite nice – the whole flat was quite nice though much smaller than what I was used to back in Spain, where I lived in a nice house in the valley, built by my family, by my grandfather. I loved that house. I rushed back to the door, jumping on my tiptoes and opened – Claudia was back, with a small pouch in her hands. She went to boil some water and crushed a bunch of leaves and other things together and put them in the water. I watched her from the dining table after she told me to sit down and she poured the tea in a cup and placed it in front of me, telling me to let it cool down a little and drink it – all of it – and so I did. I had no idea what it was, but I figured it was something to stop my pregnancy and I wasn’t going to turn it down. I didn’t want to risk having the merchant’s baby, and even if it was Aelius’ baby, I didn’t want it. I feared Tenax would throw me out if I were to have a baby, and in truth, I was terrified. My mother died giving birth to my brother Elia and knowing that I would get married and have children of my own one day, it caused me to have a crippling fear of pregnancy and childbirth.

Claudia then warned me I would bleed profusely, and have painful cramps, but it was necessary, and temporary. I would have to endure, and I knew I could. I found out I was especially enduring, even though I’d have preferred to not have to. I followed her to the room we shared, and she placed a bucket by my bed and told me to sit over it once cramping started, to avoid making a mess with the blood. I didn’t ask any questions, didn’t say anything and would do as she asked. I trusted her with this – I had to. I lied on my bed for a couple of hours. I felt some discomfort but wasn’t bleeding yet. She gave me another cup of the tea she brewed and threw the rest out of the window. Two more hours later, the discomfort turned into the painful cramps she told me about and I moved to the bucket, pressing my hand against my stomach, leaning my back against the bed. I pursed my lips inwards, closing my eyes shut, wincing from the pain as I tried to be quiet. My whole body grew hot and I was shaking, chills running down my spine. I couldn’t even press too hard against my stomach as my hand, and the rest of my body, felt weak so I bent forward, my hand flat between my thighs and abdomen. I heard when Tenax came home. Claudia was in the kitchen, preparing his dinner and I heard them speak as he sat down at the table. He was asking about me and Claudia told him I wasn’t feeling well. I was indisposed for another couple of days before I stopped bleeding altogether and felt well enough to stand up. Claudia brought me some food, mostly liquid as I couldn't stomach most of it. She then took care of the bucket after she made me some food and I ate, knowing that the time when Tenax would ask about what was going on would come. And I would have to be honest. He came home later in the afternoon and Claudia went to open the door while I stood in the kitchen, my back to the wall. He looked at me, after not seeing me for a little over 2 days.

“Claudia, leave us.” She obliged and went in our room. He told me to sit, and I didn’t dare say anything, or look directly in his eyes, so I sat down. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Tell me what’s been going on.” His tone was firm, but not especially harsh and she didn’t understand whether he was angry, annoyed, or something else. I parted my lips, quiet for a few seconds, taking a shaky breath. I finally met his gaze – though briefly – after he prompted me to speak up.

“I was pregnant. Claudia gave me something to— get rid of it. I don’t– I don’t know if it was Aelius’ or—” I swallowed harshly, cutting myself off. Tenax was listening, not saying anything. I had no idea what was going through his head. I wouldn’t look at him again. “or the merchant’s. He didn’t just break my shoulder—”

“I heard enough. Have you eaten?”

“Yes.”

“Go. Rest.” I nodded and went in the room where Claudia was waiting for our conversation to be over. She left as I came in, patting my shoulder on her way out. I went straight to bed, facing the wall and cried, covering my mouth with my hand. The week was ending on a quite emotional and painful note. I returned to work the next day. It seemed Gavros and Scorpus knew I had been ‘sick’ and so did the kids. The latter were especially happy to see me again and quite literally ran to me. This warm welcome brought me some joy finally and I smiled, telling them I was well now. Things went back to normal. I didn’t talk about it, and neither did Tenax, until a couple days later, I was at the desk taking bets when a hooded man came up to me – it was Aelius again. I took a step back, but he motioned for me to come closer to talk to me. I wouldn’t listen to him, but he insisted, and I sighed.

“Speak. But then, please, leave and never come back.” I walked behind a curtain, and he followed me, so he could tell me whatever he wants to tell me before Tenax saw him and kicked him out again.

“That day I came to see you – Tenax had me followed.” I sighed, knowing this would have happened. “Those two men cornered me in an alley. They wanted to know my boss’ name, and location – which I gave them... He was found dead this morning.”

I stared at him, in disbelief, “He’s dead?”

“You see, now, what this Tenax does? He has people followed, beat up and murdered. He’s a criminal. Look, come with me, I– I can leave with you. We’ll be safe together – I’ll keep you safe.” He tried to grab my shoulder, but I backed away instinctively.

“Don’t touch me. I’m safer here, with him, than anywhere with you. And I can’t leave anyway – I’m Tenax’s slave.”

“His slave? I’ll buy your freedom. I’ve saved some money—”

“Leave – just leave Rome. Please.” I wanted this conversation to end. I was hoping he would stop insisting and luckily, he did, maybe he feared what Tenax would do if he was seen bothering me at the tavern again and he reluctantly walked away, following the other people leaving, while I returned to the desk just a moment before Tenax came in and we closed the bets as the race was about to begin. I looked at him when he had his back turned to me for a second. I couldn’t ask him about whatever happened when there were so many people around, so I waited until we were alone, watching the race through the opening in the doors. Gavros was taking care of putting away some equipment in the back and was out of earshot if I spoke quietly, “I have a question.”

“Ask.”

“Did you really do it?”

“Do what?” Neither of us were stupid. He knew very well what I meant, so I was very blunt with my next words.

“Have him killed – the merchant.” He didn’t say anything at first and that was already confirmation enough. I turned my head towards him and locked eyes with him.

“He was a problem – I had it taken care of.” He said, shooting up his eyebrows, trying to act unbothered.

“Thank you.” I whispered these words. He looked a little surprise to see me being grateful for his deed and thanking him, face to face but he nodded and looked back to the race. One of the charioteers got into a shipwreck, but it wasn’t Scorpus so neither of us really cared. I had quickly become aware of the nature of Tenax’s business and that threatening or killing someone was part of it, but I didn’t think he would jump on the occasion to deal with the one man who wronged me – no, worse, almost completely broke me. But if Aelius didn’t sneak back in the betting tavern to talk to me, I don’t know how or when I would have found out. I don’t believe Tenax would have told me if I wasn’t the one to bring it up first, or maybe he would have, but much later. “Aelius came to tell me.”

“That fucking sailor—” He spat, through his gritted teeth.

“He wanted me to leave with him. I refused – told him to get out of Rome.”

“Why? I’m sure you’d rather go home.”

“Yes, but– I don’t know. I didn’t give it a second thought, really. I pray everyday that I am reunited with my brothers, but I guess I just didn’t want to go with him. And, he said that I wasn’t safe with you, and that he would keep me safe…" I shook my head. "Ever since I went on that boat, and left Baetica, he has proven that I couldn't be safe with him, while you have proven I was – safe – with you. Thanks to you, I have a roof over my head, food to eat, clothes. Not many slaves in Rome can say that they’re treated this well, and, I must admit, I’m really starting to like it here – all the festivals, the games, the horses – and the kids are sweet.” We both chuckled softly at the thought of those kids.

“They’ve grown fond of you.” This made my smile grow bigger. I had grown quite fond of them as well. They were nice kids. “They kept asking me about you when you were ill.”

“My brother, Fonsoa, and I, we used to take care of our little brother, Elia, after our mother died. I guess I’m good with kids.”

“You are.” He nodded.

“They're fond of you too. They look up to you. I know, you’ve said that it’s because they are kids, and would look up to anyone giving them “food and the occasional coin” but, you care for them. I don’t believe you’re as hard-hearted as you pretend.” He didn’t say anything to that, just shrugging. Maybe it got him a little thoughtful, or he knew but would rather not comment on it. I wished I could read his mind to know what he was thinking in this moment. After a moment of silence – which wasn’t exactly silence with the crowd cheering in the arena — he spoke again. There was only a couple of rounds left at this point.

“I will free you. You can leave, on your own, if you wish – or you can keep working for me, at the betting tavern.”

“I’d like that – to keep working at the tavern.” I added another, softer, thank you and we watched the end of the race without talking. Scorpus came second and we welcomed him in the stall. Gavros and another stable hand detached the horses from the chariot and brought them back to the stables. I watched them with envy, wanting to take care of those horses too, but my arm was far from healed. I had no idea how long it would take – most definitely a long time. But I could wait. Right now, I was just happy that Tenax said he wouldn’t keep me as his slave and that I would be a freedwoman, but he was kind enough – though like I said, he didn’t let any of it show – to let me live in his flat, and I actually liked working for him, so it wasn’t such a hard choice to make. I wanted to go home too, but I was, in truth, terrified of being on my own and I feared what might happen on land or by sea, if I did leave. I might be taken by someone else and sold as a slave again or taken advantage of again. At least, here, with Tenax, I was quite well surrounded and protected. A lot of people always had an eye out for me, and when someone threatened me – it didn’t matter if that threat was a passive one – he dealt with it. I knew that he didn’t take any pleasure in doing that kind of things, but he would do what needed to be done. I knew I could trust him.

[To be continued…]  

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Published (08/01/2024) by Andrea

[ughgoaway]

If they dare have the audacity to break up then the dream team has to come in and save the day 😂 and when I say dream team I mean team leader Annie featuring mayhem, aunties charli and Carly , the 75 boys and Denise Welch if necessary (and the rest of the loose women as a back up team if that fails)☝️😁

ohmygod I can't even imagine everyone's reactions to finding out about the breakup...

Annie and mayhem are missing you HARD, wallowing, and whining to matty. of course, Annie uses her words, and mayhem just barks at Matty, but he knows they both want the same thing. you.

and fuck he wants you back too.

charli and carly are immediately pisssed, "matty!!! she was the most fun girlfriend you've ever had. we went out for group coffee and gossip sessions every week. I can't believe you've fucked it up so badly... again."

the boys are just as annoyed, "mate. she was fucking perfect for you, why did you dump her??" George asks incredulously.

matty stutters a (bad) explanation but gets cut off quickly,

"You're never gonna find someone who will tolerate will all your bullshit better than her." Ross teases, but he genuinely misses you.

you and him had become gym friends, going on jogs together whenever you joined them on tour. or hanging out with him in the gym, motivating him, and telling him all the gossip. ("No way! she said that???" "Yup. and then she has the audacity to say it was my fault!!" "oh what a bitch")

adam just pulls the disappointed dad face, which is honestly the worst thing for matty. he tuts and walks away, and that's how he knows he royally fucked up.

Denise would smack him over the head and scold him, "Matthew! she was such a lovely girl. you better not have hurt her. " she tries to reach out to you, but you hurt too much to respond.

anyone remotely close to matty is off limits. It felt like your heart was getting ripped out of your chest at every thought of him. so talking to his mum might just kill you.

so needless to say, it's not a very popular decision lol.

[doll-elvis]

Did Elvis really have an affair with his stepbrother's wife? Did others in his entourage corroborate the claim? If so, what time frame did it take place?

thank you for the ask!!

and whew this whole story is a MESS and I have to say I am normally a huge Elvis defender in the sense that I always try to understand his point of view and his reasons for doing things but honestly… he was dead wrong in this particular situation 😭

and this has indeed been corroborated by the MM, however they do incorrectly refer to her as Angie (who was actually David Stanley’s wife) when in reality her name was Annie. Elvis and Annie had a month-long affair in 1972 when Annie was 18-years-old

** an important note is that his affair with Annie happened soon after Elvis was made aware of Priscilla’s affair with Mike Stone and I cannot help but think that his affair with Annie was a reaction to the news about Priscilla and Mike (more on that below 👀)

also I have found that the actual degree of the affair is something that is inconsistent across bases, and I attribute that to Elvis likely minimizing the relationship as to relieve himself of the guilt/blame when telling other people in the group

which we know is something that he often did, particularly when he was caught by his main partner, like Priscilla or Linda, when he was being unfaithful: “it didn’t mean anything”, “I just needed something different company”, “she was just a friend”

or like the time he placed all the blame on George Klein after he was caught with another woman by Linda… even though he was asking George to set him up with dates ⬇️

“‘Damn Elvis—why’d you tell Linda it was all my fault? I just did what you asked me to do’. ‘I know, GK,’ he said with a little smile. ‘But somebody had to take the blame and it wasn’t going to be me’.”

excerpt from “Elvis: my best man” by George Klein

I initially found Elvis’ affair with Annie incredibly hard to believe. Elvis was a very moral man when it came to things like that and I just couldn’t see a scenario in which he would sleep with the wife of somebody he knew… let alone his literal stepbrother. And even the Memphis Mafia confirmed that in the 50s, Elvis had a very strict “no married women” policy, not even just for himself but for his whole group ⬇️

But it seems like as he grew older and experienced more of all the world had to offer, his morals changed. In the 60s he had no problem with checking out or flirting with married women ⬇️

LAMAR FIKE: “Nothing was sacred. Nora, my wife, bent over one time feeding one of the kids and Elvis looked up her dress. I said ‘What the hell are you doing?’ And he said, ‘Well, she’s bent over, what do you want me to do?’. He was so funny about it, I couldn’t get mad”

excerpt from “Elvis and the Memphis Mafia” by Alanna Nash

pictured left to right: Patsy Presley, Joanie Esposito, Priscilla Presley, Nora Fike

In the 70s, Elvis went from looking at “taken” women to sleeping with them, and just like in the 60s it didn’t matter who the women was with… even if she was with a friend like Jerry Schilling (poor Jerry 😭) ⬇️

excerpt from “Elvis: What Happened” by Red & Sonny west, and Dave Hebler

And as mentioned before, in 1972 (right after Elvis learned about Priscilla’s affair with Mike Stone), Elvis began seeing Annie Stanley

This has been confirmed by Billy Smith, Sonny West and Marty Lacker, along with Billy, Rick and Dee Stanley ⬇️

Billy Smith speaking on the situation, excerpt is from “Elvis and the Memphis Mafia” by Alanna Nash

And while Billy Stanley says that Annie admitted she was having sex with Elvis, Billy Smith says that Elvis told him that he only ever talked/preached to Annie. This is where the degree of the affair seems to be inconsistent but again, I believe Elvis was lessening the degree in order to relieve himself of any blame/guilt ⬇️

BILLY SMITH: “I don’t know if he had sex with her, he led everybody to believe he did. I didn’t talk to him about it until maybe ‘75. I flat out asked him. Elvis told me they didn’t do anything. He said they just talked, and he preached to her a little bit

MARTY LACKER: “I was thinking about Elvis and Angie (Annie was her correct name), and somehow Elvis knew that. He kind of glanced over at Billy Stanley, and then looked at me and he said, “Well, it ain’t like he’s my brother”

excerpts are from “Elvis and the Memphis Mafia” by Alanna Nash

As always be wary of the Stanleys as they are not the most credible sources, particularly Dee, but this is their recollection of the affair ⬇️

excerpt is from “Elvis, we love you tender” by the Stanleys

excerpt is from “Elvis, we love you tender” by the Stanleys

I find the first sentence of this excerpt above particularly interesting, “what Mike Stone did to Elvis, he, in turn did to Billy”

Take this with a grain of salt because I’m of course not Elvis so I cannot speak on why he did the things he did but I often wonder since Elvis was so hurt by Priscilla’s infidelity… was he trying to “spread” that hurt by ruining his own stepbrother’s marriage 🤧?

And it’s known that Elvis was insecure about his pending divorce with Priscilla as it would be the first in the history of his family, and so again, was he trying to ruin another family member’s marriage?

Or was it because Elvis’ ego was bruised by Priscilla leaving him for a “lesser” man in the sense that Mike wasn’t as rich or famous, and so was Elvis trying to prove to himself that he could get a “better” woman in the sense that Annie was younger, less worldly, than Priscilla?

this is all speculation but I’m just so interested to know if there was a deeper meaning behind this affair or if Elvis was just trying to get laid lmaoo😭

excerpt is from “Elvis, we love you tender” by the Stanleys

This excerpt above is where Annie admits out of anger that she did indeed sleep with Elvis. So it is kind of case of “he said, she said” as Elvis maintains that they didn’t sleep together whereas she says that they did…

if that argument between Annie and Billy truly did happen, I would probably lean towards believing Annie over Elvis. I cannot imagine why she would admit to sleeping with Elvis if it hadn’t truly happened, and knowing that by admitting it, it could be the end of her marriage

excerpt is from “Elvis, we love you tender” by the Stanleys

I’m not a fan of the Stanleys but after reading this excerpt I truly felt horrible for Billy. I couldn’t imagine the amount of betrayal he felt from both Elvis and Annie, and then for Elvis to be so cavalier at the prospect of the potential divorce, it’s all just sad

However I don’t think Elvis was being so cavalier out of cruelty, I really do believe that Elvis felt incredibly guilt and deeply regretted the affair. It’s known that Elvis didn’t like confrontation so by firing Billy and ignoring Annie, that was his way of avoiding confrontation and his way of avoiding being faced with what he did

so it was a super messy situation but Billy Stanley ended up getting married again and he eventually forgave Elvis

And I don’t believe Elvis ever slept with a relative’s wife again… he definitely learned his lesson 🤧

[coochiequeens]

It sounded promising until I got to the "— we use the term women+ — (is) self selecting. If you feel that you belong in a feminine space, we want you to feel welcome here" But I shared it for anyone wants to give it a try.

Tana Hoffman, founder of ILLA, a women+ networking app to encourage participation in the outdoors, spoke at an "activation" event in Park City on Wednesday. Katie Hatzfeld/Park Record

Park City women with a passion for the outdoors gathered at the Stio on Main Street on Wednesday evening to learn about ILLA, a company that connects women based on their interests.

“I just want to say, thank you guys for coming out,” said Tana Hoffman, the founder of ILLA, who drove down from her home in Jackson Hole, Wyo.

Fifteen women gathered around as she explained how ILLA’s app works.

“You create a profile and you can find other skiers, snowboarders, bikers, mountain bikers, climbers, surfers, whatever you love to do, depending on your area,” she said.

Based on your profile, members receive notifications when, for example, another person pings for a ski partner on a coming day. Those available or interested are thrown into a group chat to plan their own adventure. It’s a cross between a friendship dating app and a Facebook group. 

This “activation” event on Wednesday was a chance for people to learn about ILLA, connect face-to-face, find some ski or boarding buddies for the winter and develop their own women-centric community.

Hoffman had attendees raise their hands to identify fellow skiers or boarders, and then encouraged each other to connect — like an in-person ILLA group chat. She passed out cards with information about how to create a profile.

Sarah Kodric, winner of the night’s $75 Stio gift card prize, came looking to find friends and fellow Epic Pass-holding snowboarders in the Park City area. After moving from her home in Slovenia to Utah with her boyfriend in June, she was eager to find some women to hang out with. 

Madison Blackley, a Park City born-and-raised professional snowboarder, popped in after boarding at Woodward’s monthly women’s night. She talked to the group about her passion for encouraging adult women towards sports they love.

Madison Blackley, a professional snowboarder and Parkite, spoke at the ILLA event about upcoming snowboarding camps for women in the area.Katie Hatzfeld/Park Record

“I coach for women’s camps called Beyond the Bounds. We run women’s adult snowboard camps,” said Blackley. “(These camps are for) anyone, a beginner, never been in the park, if you’re trying to keep up with your boyfriend, if that’s your goal, whatever your goal is.” 

One girl called out, “It’s for him to keep up with us!” The group laughed.

This was the attitude for many of the women who attended. And for ILLA’s creator, that’s the whole goal.

The New Hampshire native said she’d always been involved in the outdoor industry but struggled in the male-dominated world. 

“Most of the ski shops I was in, surf shops I was in, I was always kind of the little sister,” said Hoffman. 

Hoffman said gaining confidence as a woman in the outdoors was not easy, a challenge shared by many of the women she met, and she found herself drawn toward women-first communities.

Over the years, Hoffman began connecting other female outdoor-enthusiasts with each other through social media or group chats. But as one person, she could only do so much. What if there was an app for that? 

With this mission, Hoffman founded ILLA in February 2022. 

“ILLA was a way of, how do we scale this beyond myself, beyond me doing group text messages and group Instagram introductions,” she said.

Currently there are about 1,000 users from all across the country, she said, but certain areas have more concentration than others.

“We find that wherever you think of as a mountain hub, we tend to see more. So like the Tahoes and Missoula and Bozeman, … areas that you think of as being inherently attractive to the outdoor industry,” said Hoffman.

Park City is one of those places, and Hoffman said she hopes events like Wednesday’s will bring more women onto the platform.

“The women focus — we use the term women+ — (is) self selecting. If you feel that you belong in a feminine space, we want you to feel welcome here,” said Hoffman. “ILLA is very much a choose-your-own adventure. We’re the tool, not the enforcer.” 

Still in early stages, the platform is a web app, but plans to launch in the app store by the end of December or early 2024.

Right now, anyone can join ILLA at illawomen.com, and updates will be announced to members as they come.

News

[ncisfranchise-source]

Wilmer Valderrama, the 44-year-old actor best known for roles such as Fez in the sitcom “That ‘70s Show” and Special Agent Nicholas Torres on the drama series “NCIS,” has immersed himself into the activewear business.

The actor, entrepreneur, activist and fitness enthusiast has introduced a new active lifestyle brand for women and men called E.P.U., which stands for E Pluribus Unum, which is Latin for “out of many, one.”

“I Iove the fashion industry and it’s something that I really have been paying attention to, and have been so fascinated by the people who create fashion,” Valderrama said in a telephone interview Friday.

The collection features unisex T-shirts, tanks, crew neck sweaters, sweatpants and sweatshirts, along with men’s and women’s hoodies and joggers and women’s crop T-shirts and tanks.

Sizes range from XS to 2XL, with prices going from $25 to $75. The garments are crafted from 100 percent French terry cotton. The socks, duffel, unisex T-shirt, unisex, tanks, and women’s crop T-shirt are all made in the U.S., while the rest is made in Vietnam and India.

E.P.U. has forged a direct partnership with the USO (United Service Organizations) with a portion of sales benefiting their mission of strengthening the well-being of service members and their families. Valderrama, who is a global ambassador for USO, has been on more than 45 USO tours around the world and his time with the troops inspired him to give back to the men and women who serve to protect the country — and the people they leave at home.

Valderrama said he’s no stranger to the fashion industry. About 10 years ago he was involved in a casual brand for two years called Calavena, which sold in stores such as Saks, Kitson and Barneys. The brand no longer exists.

This time he decided to get into active sportswear for several reasons. First, he realized early on in his career that fitness was something that “not only helped the mental strengthening of the ups and downs of the industry,” but allowed him to look ahead to what roles I wanted to play next. “From Fez and having to transform into a person who could play a cop, it’s part of the transforming process,” he said.

In that journey, he created the hashtag #MyHouraDay, where he would do something active and share it on social media. His followers around the globe started giving their own answers such as “Going for a run,” or “Going for a Swim.”

Further, Valderrama has been inspired by athletes such as cross trainer Mat Fraser and snowboarder and skateboarder Shaun White, who are friends of his. “We’re always talking about mental strengthening, and when you’re out there trying to be number one, what is that mentality?” Valderrama said.

As a global ambassador to USO, Valderrama will bring friends along, talk to the troops and design and host big stage performances with comedians, musicians and DJs. “I’ve been to almost every base around the world. I’ve been to Iraq, Afghanistan, [South] Korea, Germany, Lithuania, you name it, I’ve been at that base,” he said. He began realizing the commonality of the military and what he loves so much.

“Part of their every day is how much they prioritize fitness. Fitness was an extension of their daily routines,” he said. He said he made it part of what he does professionally. “My workouts weren’t negotiable, they weren’t hobbies. [At] 4:30 in the morning, I get up and I’m going to the gym, and then I go to work. It’s part of my workflow. That mentality started creating this mental strengthening that I was not expecting. I always had the bug to go back to fashion. And all of a sudden, I was like, ‘What if?’”

He believed that he could take everything he learned from traveling the world with the military, and the inspiration from his athlete friends to create a brand that infused that kind of community for mental strengthening. Inspired by retro fashion from the 1950s and 1960s and Double RL hoodies and sweatpants, he felt he could create a brand that looked cool and functioned well. They designed the looks to be worn to the gym for a boxing workout or cross-fit training, as well as great travel outfits and clothes that can slip off easily for the pool.

Since today’s generation likes to discover brands on their own, he is selling E.P.U. through an online store, epuhq.com, as well as Instagram and Facebook.

One of his main objectives is to build a community. By donating part of the proceeds to USO, he’d like to be part of building USO Centers around the world and creating programs for veterans and their families. He pointed out that USO is a nonprofit and not government-supported, so it relies on donations.

“This is very much a passion project of mine, and I want to be as bold as possible in supporting these programs. And then the big thing is we build mental strengthening facilities,” he said.

Valderrama, who owns his Los Angeles-based company 100 percent, said he’d eventually like to launch accessories, socks, gloves to work out in, shoes, water-resistant products, weighted-vests and his own equipment.

Asked how he finds the time to run this business, while pursuing an acting career, he said, “There’s always time. If you have something in front of you that’s a priority, the schedule somehow molds into a place that you also have time for it. I have literally daily calls on this. We have photo shoots.…We have tons of community-building content around this,” he said.

“It’s a big undertaking, when they say cut, I start making calls,” Valderrama said. So far, he’s working with eight or nine full-time people in digital, social media and distribution.

Valderrama declined to divulge how much volume he anticipates he’ll do in the first year. “We’re hoping that we sell out very quickly and go right into the next phase. The internal testing that we’ve done has been received incredibly. People love how simple it is,” he said. He anticipates the tracksuits will be a bestseller.

The collection’s color palette is the official colors of the different branches of the military such as red and yellow for the U.S. Marines, green for the U.S. Army and blue for the U.S. Air Force.

Valderamma said he never got a chance to serve in any of these military branches since he got his first big break in TV when he was 18 years old.

He recalled that he became interested in USO years ago when he was walking through an airport and two members of the military came up to him and asked to speak to him. They said that after a long day of doing what they do, they trade “That ‘70s Show” DVDs like they’re baseball cards. “’And we laugh. It really helps and thank you,’” they told him. Valderrama immediately called his agent and said he’d like to show up at their bases. “In two seconds, they sent me out on a USO tour,” he said.

For the collection, he worked with “a design guru who helped scramble what was in his head,” and his fiancée, Amanda Pacheco, who was their fit model and gave suggestions on the women’s fit. To promote the brand, he plans community workouts to show who’s supporting the brand and what the brand is physically doing in real time.

Valderrama was born in Miami but grew up in Venezuela until the age of 13 or 14, when his family moved back to the U.S. and settled in Los Angeles. His father is Venezuelan and his mother is Colombian.

Next week, he will start taping the 22nd season of “NCIS,” which averages 6.5 million to 7 million viewers live every Monday night on Paramount+ and has about 12 million to 13 million viewers overall every week, he said. Valderrama’s next project is a “Zorro” adaptation for Disney, which is in development and he stars and serves as executive producer.

The actor has also written his first book, a memoir entitled “An American Story: Everyone’s Invited,” (HarperCollins) which will be published Sept. 17. “The memoir is a tribute to my family by bringing me to the U.S., and showing me the road and allowing me to walk it. I was able to take the American dream and make it something that belonged to my life,” he said. When he came to the U.S. at around 14 years old, he didn’t know how to speak English. “And by the age of 18, I’m booking ‘That ‘70s Show.'”

[mugeesworld]

Rules / Master Lists! ♥︎

Not in the best mental state currently. I want to start writing again soon but it doesn't fit into my schedule sadly. With Summer coming up I might have time tho! Thank you for looking at my page! Feel free to still leave requests tho! I'll come back to them🫶- May 18 23

Small introduction~

Hi there! Welcome to my page! Please refer to me as M or mugee! I'm 19! He/she pronouns. You can refer to me as a man or woman but Im not a woman....yeah. I feel like a man but I don't fully wanna be one. YUH. I would prefer to be referred to as dude, man, bro tho. But calling me stuff like girly is fine makes me giggle. Im still new to this app so please bare with me! I have a wattpad if you are interested! (It's the same user name) I'm open to writing anything! But mostly do head cannons:D. I'm plus size and cater to writing for the plus size community since it does get enough representation. If you are plus size please stick around! Id love to be your mutual♥︎! I write as a out let and to make people happy. I absolutely love helping the plus size community feel more loved/ making them happy! Cause everyone is truly beautiful and I want YOU to know that! Feel free to read if you're not plus size though. (I have my eye on you though.... No hateful comments) My blog is a safe place for everyone! Unless your racist, homophobic, fatphobic, etc. You will be blockedꈍᴗꈍ. Feel free to message me! I love chatting with people! Also if you want to me mutuals just ask! I swear I won't bite!!! I talk about random stuff on here sometimes. Like random random. I one made a post about women and how beautiful they are. And it wasn't small. IT WAS BIGGGGG. I love women.

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[bisluthq]

meh idt taylor was thinking about matty when she put the stevie nicks line in clara bow. 1975 was indeed an important year for stevie and taylor did look like her. the song is just like... definitely not about him or any other man.

I don’t think she wasn’t thinking about him lol. She def wasn’t ONLY thinking about him but the song is obviously not just about looking like someone (then she’d reference that devil worshippy lady who looked EXACTLY like her), it’s about women she relates to and how women’s lives are often messed up by fame and comparisons to other women and one of the key aspects of Stevie’s life was her relationship with Lindsey. ‘75 was important not just for Stevie but for them as a couple. Taylor clearly saw Matty as her Lindsey. The album’s title song is a love song for Matty. His band is called The 1975. I don’t think it’s a leap to say the reference to that specific year, when talking about a woman who - in that year - was making a very important album with her creative soulmate/love of her life who she had a very volatile relationship with and was actually on the verge of breaking up with (because you can’t divorce Lindsey from the white album at all?) has nothing to do at all with her own perceived creative soulmate/love of her life who she had/has a very volatile relationship with and who broke up with her while she was making this album. Fwiw Clara Bow’s husband was an actor who essentially drove her into retirement and eventually into complete seclusion and to her death so fyi that reference clearly doesn’t have nothing to do with Joe. That’s not to say the song is about dudes or a love letter to dudes in any way, but relationships affect us and relationships affect Taylor? The reference points she chose are two women whose love lives paralleled hers at that point or she could relate to at least?

also going back to what I said earlier as anon pointed out Stevie is, again, this childless witchy (loved the use of that word from an anon), prolific and beloved and iconic artist who, at 76, still seems to be having a grand old time ruining everything (and I think Taylor really admires that) but she did the whole “being a woman” thing “wrong” by society’s standards. She’s had a lot of boyfriends and partners and the only time she was married was because she was sad about her friend’s death and married her widower to help raise their kid and then like almost instantly regretted it. She continues to make art and perform and do her thing. She’s certainly not a sad old maid but she did EVERYTHING “wrong” tbh. Clara bowed (lol) to the pressure and retired with her actor husband and had two children and… literally went crazy. She did, however, also say that underneath the fun It Girl there’s always been a profound sense of sadness and discontent.

and then the song ends off on a hopeful note for herself because she says she looks like Taylor Swift and the future’s as yet unwritten and she might not end up like either of these two women and also comparisons between women are often hurtful but these are women she (clearly) can relate to.

It’s a song about herself and her dreams and her insecurities and in that it’s also a song about her men…