#trope hasn’t BEEN a thing lol

[annaruby]

there’s this trend i’ve been noticing of Feminist Cool GirlsTM on tiktok and now on twitter who started out by criticizing hyper individualism and egocentrism (not everything is catered to you, you are not the Main Character, bla bla), which was good, but are now just spewing borderline (and sometimes straight up) ableist rhetoric and it’s pissing me off like the “oh my god you ppl can’t do anything” “y’all are thinking too much about yourselves” etc and then you see and it’s being used against a disabled person talking about their struggles that are caused by their disability lol

it’s how they’re “cringe culture is dead” until it’s something that they personally dislike or something they think it’s aesthetically unappealing, like for example AuADHD ppl

[akkivee]

mtr has my favourite brand of codependency (husbands with their new doctor bf who def cannot survive without each other lmao) but all the divisions have their own versions of codependency and I Like That tbh lol

[todoriin]

x : TOUCH ME NOW *+ﾟ

in which: you help sunday through a predicament. a part 2 nsfw to this sunday fic.

warnings: 3k wc,MDNI or u fail ur next test, afab!reader but no pronouns, sex pollen trope, oral (m receiving), fingering, idk how in character sunday is but i blame it on sex pollen, sunday busts like multiple nuts, wall sex that then becomes bed sex, riding, creampie, unrealistic sex, unprotected p in v, emotionally charged sex towards the end, multiple rounds.

a/n: there are so many warnings i'm kinda ashamed. anyways, i hope u enjoy! i'm never gonna look at this again lol

A feverish heat clings to Sunday, racking shivers up his spine. Warmth suffocates him, expanding to all edges of his body- legs, chest, head, there’s a particular stubborn sensation that clings to his core. And his pants.

It must have been because of that mysterious substance that befell him during the mission. At first, it was a stinging in his nose and eyes that eventually faded, but after a while the real side effects kicked in, and he concluded that it was some sort of material that enhanced… sexual needs, if the growing stiffness in his pants was any indication. He excused himself from the group, and darted back to the hotel at record pace.

Curled up on his made bed, the linen sheets are a mild balm against his hot skin, coat and shirt discarded the second the hotel room locked behind him. Hours have passed since he separated from the group but the symptoms still stubbornly fester in his gut, falling and rising but never fading, sticking to his being like glue. 

It’s already painful enough on its own, but you just have to be on the other side of the hotel door, knocking and knocking, asking if he was alright in that sweet, concerned voice of yours. 

Things have been… awkward since that incident with you in his room. He hasn’t been able to look you in the eye since, and Sunday’s positive the entire Express can tell that something happened between you, just not entirely sure what.

Having a good memory can be a curse sometimes, and because of it, he hasn’t been able to forget the feel of your warmth atop him, and the paralysing fear when he realised just how strong his desire was. Sunday won’t deny it, even back in Penacony when he was the strict and rigid Head of the Oak Family, there were undertones of attraction that stirred in his heart when he first got to talk to you, but they were quickly buried, just as he was taught to do years ago.

Now, in closer proximity and freed from shackles of duty, he can’t help but let the desire roam wild, peaking at the incident that occurred not too long ago.

A siren’s song. He’s going to give in to your call. 

He opens the door no more than a crack, letting your voice come through loud and clear.

“Sunday?” Your tone is gentle, kind, treating him like a wounded stray that would run if you got too close. In some sense, he is, except he thinks if you got too close, he’d pounce on you and do what he’s been thinking of doing for days- weeks, even.

Except in his barely-lucid state, he thinks it might be worse.

“Can I come in? Mr Welt told me you were unwell and separated from the group when March and I went away.”

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, strained.

You raise a brow. “You’re clearly not. No offense but… you sound a bit worse for wear.”

“It’s alright, I can manage alone.”

“Yes but you don’t have to, I’m happy to help.”

“I don’t think this is something you might want to stick around for.” 

With each passing moment that you turnaround his rejection, Sunday feels his sanity slipping and pants growing tighter. And when you raise your eyebrows again in defilement, he just wants to pull you in and sink you both to the floor, reduced to a puddle of limbs where neither of you can tell where he ends and you begin.

“How bad can it be?” You whisper and all fighting spirit leaves him. He lets you inside.

As soon as the door clicks shut, you’re putting a hand up to his forehead, testing his temperature as if his entire face wasn’t flushed, pale skin heating up to an uncharacteristic pink. You seem to be avoiding the obvious issue that’s happening in his lower body.

“What happened?” 

“I- uh, was hit with something,” he groans when you steps away.

“Like hay fever?” You ask, still somehow innocent and unaware.

He never thought he’d need to spell this out to someone. “Like extreme arousal.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth forms a small ‘o’ in realisation, eyes trailing down to his bare torso for a mere second before meeting his gaze again, as if deciding how to word the next sentence you want to say. 

“Would you like some help with that?”

In any right state of mind, Sunday would be double checking that what you said was right. That he wasn’t hearing things. However, in a lust-ridden state where he can’t even tell north or south without thinking of the incredible stiffness in his pants, he says what he thinks is most logical.

“Please.” It’s no more of a whimper, but you hear him loud and clear because next thing he knows, you’re cupping his face with bringing it to yours, tongue parting the seam of his lips. 

Sunday backs you up against the hotel door. You seem eager, that delights him. 

With the invitation pressed into his mouth, he uses it to lick into your mouth, exploring and reaching wherever he can, tilting his head slightly for better access, overpowering whatever control you had previously exerted over him, just has he’s dreamed of. Biting on your bottom lip, he feels saliva dribble down his chin, wetting his skin. He separates from you to catch the trail, kissing down your chin and going even further, lips meeting the dips and curves of your neck as you gulp, overwhelmed by the onslaught of affection. 

It’s your hands that remove your shirt, pulling it over your head as he continues his flurry of kisses, eventually stopping near your sternum. It’s your hands that exposes you- all of you, to him, letting him near his mouth and hands to your breasts. He squishes and pinches your left mound as the right one is enveloped by his lips where he spits and suckles, the sound so unabashedly wet that it shoots straight down to your core- where you need him the most. So you roll your hips against his and enjoy the vibrations of his moan, mouth still connected around you. You do it again and this time, his grip tightens, parting from your breast with a satisfying pop. 

Crazed hunger gleams in his eyes and you sink to your knees before him. 

“Let me take care of you,” you mutter breathlessly, now eye level with his member. His very obviously, very painfully hard member. Your hands make quick work of his pants, unbuttoning them as Sunday does the work of discarding both his boxers and the pants, leaving him naked before you, cock hitting the base of his abdominals. 

It’s an odd sensation to present yourself so wholly to someone for the first time, especially when your most private parts are in the other person’s face, but Sunday’s mind is too far away to feel ashamed. Not when your hands crawl up and play with the angry, swollen tip of his dick.

“This looks so painful,” you mutter. “How long did you suffer for?”

“A couple hours,” he confesses through stifled teeth, feeling your hands move up and down along his shaft. You’re toying with him, seeming so sympathetic to his current condition when the only thing you’re doing is making it worse, the heat flaring hotter and hotter than he thought humanly possible in his abdomen. 

It’s like torture, but he never wants you to stop. Never wants you to leave.

“Poor thing,” you coo. When you kiss his leaking tip, he collapses against the hotel door, bent arm catching him against the hard material. From this perspective, Sunday gets to watch you take him whole, his cock disappearing into your mouth inch by agonising inch until you stop just short of the base. It is so filthily wet and warm, and his skin glistens from your saliva when you move back, only to take him again, tongue sliding over the veins of his incredibly sensitive member. 

The pleasure is overwhelming. It feels like everything and not enough, all at the same time. He wants your mouth to be hugging him like this forever, but he wants more, wants you to sink into his ligaments and press this feeling of pleasure into him permanently. Wants his muscles to remember the sensation of your tongue and lips, and how your spit mixes with his precum as small whimpers and moans leave him.

A hand comes to the back of your head, and Sunday begins to move his hips in tandem with your actions, and a surprised sound rings from the back of your throat when he forces himself deeper into your mouth. He does it again and again, wings fluttering as a coil begins to tighten in his lower half.

“I’m- I’m close,” Sunday whimpers. “Don’t stop, please, I want to- I want-”

The pleasure climaxes and hot ropes of cum shoot into your used mouth, dribbles out when it’s too stuffed to stay in, falling down the curve of your lips, down your chin, and landing on the floor or your body. He feels like ascending. This has been the high he’s been craving, the solution to the mania Sunday has been subjected to.

It is still not enough. He watches you swallow his cum, using your finger to clean around your mouth, and gulps when his dick springs to life again, aroused by the sight alone. 

Only a fraction of his issue has been solved it seems, because neediness still burns hot in his veins, and he needs you so pathetically bad. Needs to press you against the nearest surface just to take you again and again. 

Your eyes widen at his hard cock again.

“Still not enough?” You ask, voice slightly hoarse from being used. 

“More,” he groans, and presses his mouth against yours when you rise from your knees, pressing a flurry of kisses against your lips, mixed with moans as words are spoken against your mouth. “Want more of you, let me inside.”

You nod against him, hands coming up to hold onto his shoulders, desperate for the anchor. “Please.” 

A hand traces over your hip and moves down to your core. Two fingers part your folds, letting two digits sink into your wet entrance, collecting your slick as he glides in and out, feeling the constriction of your walls around his hand. 

You cling to him tighter, resting your forehead against his shoulder as you deal with the onslaught of blinding pleasure, heightening when his thumb plays with your clit, rubbing circles and moving the nub up, down, left, and right. It’s mind-numbing, you don’t know what else to think of except the pleasure he’s bringing you. 

It’s torn away when he retracts his hands, heated golden gaze staying locked with yours as he licks himself clean. An act so obscene that it leaves you speechless, all coherent sentences slipping from your brain as Sunday holds your leg up to his hip, allowing him more access. 

He grinds his hard length against you, sliding it along your wet slit, sometimes catching your clit, causing you to jolt in his hold. Your breath is heavy with anticipation as you claw at his back, unable to take anymore of this gentle torment, walls clenching around nothing when his tip rests against your entrance. Sunday’s testing you, teasing as his perceptive, golden gaze never strays away from your expression, analysing every micro change as he slowly, slowly, slowly eases in, feeling every movement of your walls parting to make space for him.

You’re constricting him, pulsing around him so tightly that it’s getting harder to breathe, harder to think straight without fucking into you so recklessly that you leave an imprint on the door. His lust-filled brain wants to, but the composed part of his mind knows to give you time to adjust first, even if you’re wet enough for him to move freely. 

However, it seems that he’s too impatient himself. 

A sudden warmth floods your walls, gushing hot white as Sunday rests his forehead against you, shuddering, laboured breaths heaving out his chest.

“Did you just… cum?” 

“Yes,” he pants, wings fluttering lightly as he recovers from busting his load without warning.

Your hands move to play with the hair at the base of his neck, twirling the strands as you wait for him to come down. It’s alarming that you can already feel him getting hard again. Just how strong was this pollen? 

“Sorry, it’s just… I haven’t felt anything this powerful this before.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur, holding his cheek. “Sunday, use me. Don’t hold back.” 

With your blessing, he regains his footing and slowly retracts his hips, almost sliding out of you before thrusting back. You moan right by his ear, nails clawing his skin. The pace of his movements stay slow, methodical as he splits you open, but with a last few rolls of his hips, Sunday begins to pick up the pace, listening to his frayed mind as the wet sound of skin slapping skin fills the hotel room. 

Your whimpers of his name are soft as he keeps moving, holding your leg higher to his hip for more access as he relentlessly bullies himself into you, reaching even deeper parts of you. Mixed essences coat your skin, the last load he spilled into you falling out and dribbling from your entrance, and down to the apex of your thighs. It sounds obscene every time he thrusts into you, and the pleasure makes you bite into the junction of his neck- a coping mechanism against the searing build up in your abdomen.

He’s thrusting into you so deep, hitting a sensitive spot over and over again, causing you to see stars on the edge of your vision. 

“I’m almost there, please, don’t stop,” you’re puffing against him now, gasping for air when his hand suddenly crawls between your bodies, rubbing your clit in the exact way he did before, intensifying the pleasure as it shoots through your nerves.

Without warning, you gush all over him, walls spasming around his cock as he continues chasing his own high, hands squeezing you harder as he grows sloppier. Then, with a muffled moan, he lets go and spills hot semen into you, his hips stuttering flush against your pelvis as he presses himself as close as possible. 

Both of you pant erratically, still coming down from the high as you cling to each other with vice grips. He nuzzles into your shoulder, wings and silver hair tickling your skin. His is still feverish, burning and hot against your body. You can’t even remember if he grew hotter since you first began, but it’s hard to think about it when Sunday’s still nestled inside with no intention of leaving any time soon.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly, careful not to break the delicate atmosphere.

“Yes,” he murmurs. “I’m feeling… a little more clear-headed now.”

“That’s good. Should we move away from the door and sit on the bed?” 

He slips out of you and you wince at the feel of thick fluids dripping out of you and down your inner thigh. Sunday is at least conscious enough to sit you down and go grab a towel, gently grabbing your ankle to stretch your leg, patting your skin gently to rid the traces. Despite how methodical and tender he is, he can’t hide his growing erection, even if he’s diligently avoiding looking at your spent cunt. 

“This… predicament of yours must be stubborn,” you joke when he takes a seat next to you, unable to meet your eyes.

“I think this one might be mostly my doing.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really.”

Without hesitation, you swing a leg around and straddle him, sitting daringly close to his cock. “Need a little more help?” 

He groans through gritted teeth when you roll your hips, teasing him with a half-lidded look, lips turning into a smirk. You will be the reason for his demise, an obsession growing in the depths of his mind.

“If you are fit enough, don’t exert yourself for me.”

“But I want to help,” you pout at him. 

Yes. Something like obsession. 

Sunday’s hands are vice grips on your hips as you lower yourself down on his dick, the familiar stretch causing you to wince, but his touch is grounding as he places a flutter of kisses on your face when you’ve lowered yourself completely, the back of your thighs meeting his. You watch as his face contorts with pleasure, gaze focused on where you’re joined. 

“You feel so perfect,” he murmurs. “I’ve been dreaming of this, I can’t believe it’s real.”

“Dreaming? How so?”

“Ever since that… day, where you visited me in my room,” he grunts, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, to stop desiring you, I felt it was better for the both of us if I just kept my distance since then.”

You cup his cheeks, placing a kiss on his nose before you move, rising before slamming down, causing the both of you to moan in sync, his being more of a whine. Repeating the movement a few times, you feel wet droplets landing on your hands, and you stop moving out of surprise, the ichor falling from his eyes catching you by surprise.

“Sunday, are you-”

Catching the liquid gold with your thumbs, you are so devastatingly careful handling him that he might just cum again, decorating your insides with white for the fourth time that night. He barely just holds on, though, for the sake of his own sanity. 

Although he almost snaps when he feels you catch a tear with your lips, and then you clench around him- oh, this is the recipe for his downfall.

“You will drive me crazy.” He whispers as he holds onto your wrists. “T-This… this is incomparable. I-I want you like a man starved.” 

Then, without warning, he rolls you around so that your back is on the bed and he’s the one on top. Climbing between your parted legs, he carves a space for himself in your arms, infatuation glazing over his expression. 

“Let me show you how badly I crave you.” 

© TODORIIN 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[hoe4hotchner]

Hi it’s the anonymous from the doctor and the neighbor ideas again (I hope I’m not giving you too much to write cause I have so many more 😭😭)

Here we go again!

Reader and Hotch are neighbors again. Same trope, they’re friends, she watches jack, they have each other’s keys. But I was thinking this time, reader has a bakery down the street, and you know that thing when you nervous you stress eat? Well reader stress bake. Hotch thinks it’s time for the team to meet basically the only friend he has out of work (reader) and decides to do a game night (again lol) for all of them.

Reader was nervous about meeting them, so guess what happened? Her gas bill will be very expensive this month 😭. She goes to hotch's house with like a bunch of Tupperwares full of cookies, cupcakes, macarons, whatever else you can think she could humanly hold (in my mind she’s entering his house with her key with so many containers her vision is obstructed by them) And she’s like all adorably smiley and hoping they like her, like she hasn’t just become each team member’s nutritionist and dentist's deepest nightmare 😭😭

Sweet Treats

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader (x BAU)

Warnings: Nothing unless you're allergic to sugar. I think the reader is gender neutral in this, but my eyes have been staring at the words for so long that I might've missed something.

Word count: 881.

A/N: HIIIII anonnn 🫶 I love all your requests!!! They're always sooo cuteeee😍😭 Somehow I managed to get this done 10 minutes before I had to leave for work. So enjoy <3

You paced around your kitchen, the smell of freshly baked muffins, macarons, and meringues filling the air. The island and counters were covered in trays and Tupperware, each filled with sugary treats that you’d been baking over the last few hours out of pure stress. You glanced at the clock—it was almost time to head next door to Hotch’s.

Your heart skipped a beat as you thought about meeting his team. Aaron had told you so much about them and their cases, and from everything you’d heard, they seemed nice. But still, you were nervous; you weren’t good at meeting new people outside of your customers, and these people were important to him. You wanted to make a good impression.

Before you knew it, your kitchen was overflowing with desserts, with no space left unfilled. There was so much that you started to wonder if you'd gone a tad bit overboard, but there was no turning back now. You started packing everything into containers, stacking them as carefully as possible.

“This should be enough, right?” you murmured to yourself, eyeing the mountain of sweets. How you were going to get them safely next door was still a mystery to you.

Trying your best to gather all the containers, your arms were loaded with so many that you could barely see over the top or out the sides. You took a deep breath as you headed out the door and made your way across your front lawn. It was quicker this way instead of going onto the sidewalk. You knew Aaron didn’t mind you stepping on his lawn.

Balancing everything precariously, you managed to fumble your key into the lock and let yourself in. “Aaron?” you called out, your voice slightly muffled by the stack of Tupperware in front of your face.

“In here,” his voice replied from the living room.

You shuffled toward the sound of his voice, hoping you wouldn’t trip over anything along the way. When you finally reached the living room, you found Aaron standing with his team, who all turned to look at you as you awkwardly maneuvered through the door.

“Hi!” you chirped, a little too enthusiastically, as you nearly toppled over under the weight of all the containers. You could barely see their faces, but you were pretty sure they were staring at you.

“You didn’t have to bring all of this.” Aaron quickly moved to help you, taking a few containers from your arms. He sent you a soft smile, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice, trying to figure out how you’d even managed to get out of your own house with no vision and basically no arms to help you.

“I, uh, got a little nervous,” you admitted with a bashful grin as you finally set down the remaining containers on the coffee table. “So… I baked. A lot.”

The team members exchanged glances, their initial surprise quickly giving way to grins and curious glances at the mountain of sweets you had brought along.

“You made all of this?” asked a woman with long, dark hair, whom you recognized as Emily from the pictures Aaron had shown you.

“Y-Yeah.” You felt your nerves bubble up again. “I hope you like them.”

“Are you kidding?” Derek smiled, already reaching for a cupcake. “This is amazing!”

“Did you make these from scratch? They look perfect,” Spencer asked, peering at the macarons with wide eyes.

You nodded, feeling your face heat up at the compliments. “I’m just really glad I could share them with you guys.”

As everyone started sampling the desserts, you noticed Aaron watching you with a fond look in his eyes. He stepped closer, leaning in to speak quietly, just for you to hear.

“You didn’t need to do all of this to impress them, you know. They were going to love you no matter what.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, but before you could respond, Garcia bounced over, vibrating with excitement. “Oh my gosh, you are like a real-life fairy godmother! These are delicious! Can I be your best friend?”

You laughed, feeling the last of your nerves melt away. “I think I can manage that.”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter, games, and way too much sugar. The team insisted on sampling everything, and by the end of the night, they were all raving about your baking skills. You felt like you’d known them forever, and the warm, welcoming energy they exuded made you feel right at home among them.

As the night wound down, Aaron walked you back to your house, the others busy chatting in the living room. “Thank you for doing this,” he said softly, his eyes full of that same warmth you’d come to love. “You really didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”

You smiled up at him, feeling your heart swell with affection. “I wanted to. They’re important to you, so they’re important to me.”

He paused as if considering his next words carefully. “You’re important to me, too. I’m glad you finally got to meet them.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, you just stood there, feeling the weight of his words sink in. Then you smiled, a little shyly. “Me too.”

Consider linking or reblogging if you enjoy my work

[sansaorgana]

what if benny heard his girl’s friend telling her about how she deserves better. he then notices his gf distancing herself from him because she starts having doubts about their relationship, and he’s not about to let her go that easily

hello 💚 thank you for your request! it turned out to be quite long (nearly 4,5k words) 😌 Benny & Reader are kinda toxic here lol 🤣 but in the movie he was such a red flag sometimes and his relationship with Kathy wasn't that healthy either, so I felt like exploring that trope. it has a happy ending, though! 💒

I had to close my requests for now because I got so many 🙏🏻

Whenever you were out with your friends, Benny was a big part of your conversations. They were either single or they dated boring men and you couldn’t help but brag a little to them about taming a man like Benny Cross.

Of course, sometimes you were jealous of the stability your friends had. But with Benny it was never boring and you had never had so many wild stories to tell before meeting him. You wore one of his rings proudly and with as much pride you had the Vandals Chicago small patch on your jeans jacket.

And today was no different – you arrived at Molly's place a little bit late by the bus but Benny was supposed to pick you up later. You fixed your hair and your jacket before getting inside the apartment building after some older lady who was walking inside. She looked you up and down and you couldn’t tell if it was because of the patch or the leather pants but you didn’t care either way. You were only wearing trousers these days because sitting in the back of the bike in a skirt or a dress was far from comfortable.

You knocked upon Molly’s door and she opened with a smile but you couldn’t help but notice that the way she looked at you was similar to the old lady’s gaze. And when you walked to the living room and waved at your other friends, they suddenly went quiet, which only meant one thing – they had been talking about you.

“Hi, (Y/N),” Barbara greeted you. “Has your boyfriend dropped you off?”

You furrowed your brows at her oddly mocking tone as other girls tried to hide a giggle.

“Hi, Barbs. No, he hasn’t,” you answered, pretending you hadn’t caught the rude undertone of her question. You sat on the armchair because you didn’t want to sit next to them on the couch.

Molly sat back there, right next to Ursula. On Barbara’s other side sat Susie.

“So, how’s life? What’s up?” You asked as usual, tapping your fingers on the wooden armrest of the armchair. 

You hadn’t seen them in two months and they were your friends since high school. You were naturally interested in hearing their stories.

“Well, I got engaged!” Ursula announced and showed you the ring. Your eyes widened and you gave her a smile.

“Wow, ‘sula, that’s crazy. Congratulations, babe,” you winked at her. “That ring must have cost a fortune!”

“It certainly has. But you know, Dickie’s in the finance,” she reminded you but there was something contemptuous in her voice.

“I remember,” you only nodded. “When’s the wedding?”

“In July, we think,” Ursula answered. “I’m currently dress hunting. I was in the store the other day with the girls and…” She started and then she stopped talking as the other hissed at her.

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Wait, what?” You raised an eyebrow. “You guys are seeing each other without me?” You swallowed thickly and waited for their answer.

It made sense, suddenly. Because you had used to meet every two weeks. But some time ago they had started to come with excuses that they were too busy to meet so often. Now the meetings were taking place once every two months. But… Perhaps it was this way only for you.

The girls looked at each other.

“Oh, please, (Y/N), it was only once,” Barbara quickly spoke up. “You were busy that day anyway. We knew about it so we didn’t even ask you.”

“How did you know I was busy?” You asked.

“We read in the paper that there had been a motorbike accident in the area. We assumed you were at the hospital,” Ursula explained and you nearly snorted at her stupid lie.

She was always the worst at coming up with lies on the go.

“This accident had nothing to do with Benny or anyone in our club for that matter,” you told her although you were sure there had been no accident even.

“Well, we thought…” Ursula started.

“Our club, huh?” Susie suddenly giggled. She was usually the quiet one but it made her pretty observant and she would always pick on the words.

You cracked a smile at that.

“Are you learnin’ how to drive a motorbike now? Is he gettin’ you one as well?” Molly teased.

“No,” you answered. “Anyway…” You tried to change the subject. “July is in three months. I gotta start hunting for a dress for the occasion, too. Is there a dress code?” You asked Ursula.

Ursula looked down and started to fidgeting with her fingers nervously.

“Actually…” Barbara took a deep breath in. “Ursula would like to tell you something but she’s scared…”

“So… We will do it for her,” Molly nodded.

You already knew what it was about and you tried your best to keep your smile on although all you wanted to was to cry.

Not even because you were losing the friendship of these girls – they were clearly treating you like shit anyway – but because it all felt so… humiliating. As if you were the village’s outcast all of the sudden. A local pariah.

“I’m not invited?” You crossed your arms.

“No! It’s not like that!” Ursula protested as she looked up to meet your gaze. “It’s… It’s about Benny. I don’t want him at my wedding. So… If you want to come, you are welcome to come alone,” she finished.

“Well, I’ll see if I can come. In July we are going for vacation anyway. The dates might interfere,” you explained with a shrug of your arms. That was a lie.

“Vacation? With Benny? Where?” Susie seemed to be interested now.

“A trip to Florida where his cousin lives,” you explained. At least that part about his cousin was true.

“Florida… Nice…” Barbara sighed and Molly pushed her with her elbow.

For the rest of the meeting, you were silent. Nodding your head at the things the girls were saying and faking laughs here and there, already coming up with the lies to tell them when they’d ask about you but… They never asked.

When they were in the middle of talking about some stupid movie, you all got startled at the sudden sound of the loud engine. All the girls gave you a dirty look as you chuckled.

“Sorry,” you put your hands up in the air. “It’s Benny. I gotta go now. It was nice to catch up with you,” you stood up and waved at them before going to the hall.

You didn’t feel like hugging them or anything like that. You just wanted to be out of the flat.

However, Molly followed you.

“I’ll walk you outside,” she proposed and you furrowed your brows at her but you nodded. She was your closest friend out of them all.

You took the lift downstairs and walked out of the apartment building. Benny’s motorbike was parked on the opposite side of the parking lot. He was leaning on it and smoking a cigarette.

“Wanna say hello to him?” You asked Molly, squinting your eyes at the sun as you put your hand over your forehead to create a shadow.

“Nah, I’m fine, babe,” Molly shook her head and put her hands inside the pockets of her cardigan. “But, you know, I gotta tell you something…” She continued to walk in the direction of Benny’s motorbike but her steps were small as her voice lowered.

“What is it?”

“You know I like you, (Y/N). I don’t like what’s happened to us. I mean, our friend’s group. You know why and what… Who is the reason,” Molly cleared her throat. “You’ve changed, too.”

“Shouldn’t it matter that I’m happy?” You asked her.

“But… Are you? Darling, is there any future in that?” She glanced at Benny who was observing you carefully but you were sure he was standing too far away to hear the whispers. “I just think you deserve better. We all do. Think about that, will you, doll?” Molly patted your arm before squeezing it in a friendly way and waving at you.

She turned around to hurry back inside the building right before the distance was close enough to greet Benny. It looked like she was avoiding him on purpose and she wasn’t even hiding that. It was rude.

You sighed and turned around to smile at your boyfriend.

“Hi, daddy-o. Sorry for making you wait,” you winked at him playfully. “Where are you takin’ me tonight?” You fixed his jacket and kissed his lips when he was not taking a drag of his cigarette.

“There’s a bonfire,” Benny mumbled out. “Hop on,” he pointed at the motorbike.

Benny’s hearing was not perfect after all the years of getting slaughtered by the roaring sound of the motorbikes’ engines. But he was an excellent lip reader – it was one of those useful skills he had learnt over the years. Benny was not a man of many words and he usually preferred to observe the environment around him. Reading lips was helpful for that.

You had been standing with your back turned to him so he had no idea what you had been answering to your friend’s words but he knew perfectly well what that girl had been saying. And then she had just looked him up and down and turned around, without even saying hi. Not that he cared to get a hi from a girl like her. And not that he wasn’t used to people treating him this way.

Still, it had planted an insecurity in his head. And now, during the bonfire, you were acting weird, too.

The sun was slowly going down on that day and a huge bonfire had been lit up. One of the guys had taken their radio and played rock and roll songs. There was lots of beer and a small barbecue and everything smelled like alcohol, sweat, meat and gasoline. After having a few beers, lots of boys were showing off their motorbike tricks, including jumping over the fire. The atmosphere was full of testosterone but most girls didn’t mind that. To date a biker, you had to be used to that. Constant risk, constant danger, constant adrenaline. You were sitting by the bonfire and watching the motorbike tricks as you were sipping on your diet coke through the straw. Benny was smoking a cigarette by one of the cars while he talked to his friends but he kept his eye on his girl and he knew you well enough to see that while the other girls were gossiping next to you, you didn't really pay attention as you were clearly dissociating.

When he finished his cigarette, he walked up to you and tugged on the sleeve of your jacket to make you stand up and follow him inside the house but you shrugged him off and looked away. Benny furrowed his brows but he didn’t give up.

“(Y/N), baby, come on,” he whined a little.

“Gee, Benny,” you rolled your eyes before looking up. “Can’t you see I’m talking to the girls?” You pointed out but the girls looked at you; confused at your words since you had been doing nothing but ignoring them for the past hour.

“I wanna talk to ya,” Benny insisted and you sighed.

“Excuse me, darlings,” you told the girls and put your empty bottle of soda on the ground before standing up and facing Benny.

You followed him in the direction of the house but instead of walking inside, Benny guided you to walk behind, where there was no one around.

“What is it?” You raised your eyebrow at him as you leaned on the wall behind you.

“I’m just wonderin’ why you’re acting like that,” Benny scratched himself behind his neck.

“Like what?”

“Like that,” Benny repeated and shrugged his arms. “Dunno, as if I have done somethin’ wrong. Have I?”

“No,” you answered but the answer was very fast and nearly harsh. “No…” You repeated and took a deep breath in as your face softened. “I’m just… That meeting with my friends was weird and I’m overthinkin’ some stuff. That’s it,” you explained. “‘sula’s getting married, you know?” You looked down and played with your foot, drawing circles on the ground with your boot.

Benny’s heart skipped a beat at the word married. 

“Yeah?” He asked, trying to look into your eyes but you kept your gaze low.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “However, I ain’t invited,” you turned your head to look away as you crossed your arms.

“What? Why?” Benny furrowed his brow. He couldn’t understand that. He thought that you were pretty close to those girls.

“It doesn’t matter,” you answered and looked into his eyes. “I was thinkin’... Maybe we could go to Florida in July? To your cousin? I need a vacation, Benny.”

“Florida’s far away,” Benny shook his head. “The guys need me here.”

“Only for a short time…”

“Nah,” Benny insisted. “We can have a weekend by the lake if ya want to.”

“No,” you sighed. “Listen, I’m tired today, ‘kay?”

“‘kay,” Benny nodded awkwardly and hid his hands inside the pockets of his jacket. “Wanna go home?”

“Yeah.”

Benny hoped that your odd behaviour would change on the next day but it did not. In the morning he didn’t find you in bed and when he walked downstairs, you were already dressed up and drinking coffee by the kitchen window.

“You up already?” He asked, surprised. “Workin’ today?” 

“No. I just couldn’t sleep,” you told him without looking at him.

“What’s for breakfast?” He asked and looked around the kitchen.

“I had pancakes. You can have whatever you want,” you pointed out and he was a bit taken aback by that response. 

Not that he minded making breakfast for himself but you had always been doing it for him ever since he moved to your place.

“Are you angry at me, kitty?” Benny asked, carefully, as he approached the fridge to take a look inside to see what he could eat.

He decided on scrambled eggs as he grabbed a few from the fridge. He put some butter on the pan and heated it up but there was still no answer from you.

“Kitty?” He cleared his throat and turned his head around to look at you.

You took one last sip of your coffee and stood up with a sigh. You put the coffee cup inside the sink and walked past him.

“I’m going to spend a day with my ma,” you told him.

“With your ma?” Benny furrowed his brows. He didn’t like it when you were going to your mum.

Not because he had something against you spending time with your family. But he knew that your mum absolutely hated his guts and she was begging you to dump him each time you were seeing her. For you to meet with her today – a day after your friend had told you that you deserved better… Well, it was not looking good for Benny.

“Yeah, I don’t know when I’ll be back,” you told him and then you left the kitchen. A few seconds later, he heard the front door closing.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered to himself.

It was late afternoon, nearly evening already, when you came back home. Now, after the meeting with your mum, your head was full of doubts and insecurities about your relationship.

You loved Benny but was it possible that this relationship was really a doomed affair? All your friends were leaving you behind and treating you like your Vandals patch was a scarlet letter. Your mother was begging you all the time to leave Benny behind because he was “no good for you, baby”. It was annoying but she had every reason to be worried – Benny was trouble. He cost you a lot of money, too, when it came to the lawyers, hospitals and the bills. He didn’t even have a steady job. And all of that for what…? There was not even a ring on your fucking finger.

He would drive around all day and then get drunk at the bonfires. That was all he wanted to do. Was he even treating you seriously? Was he planning to settle down with you? That was doubtful. 

You walked inside the house and closed the door loudly behind you before going to the bathroom to wash your hands. Then you took a deep sigh at the sight of your tired face in the mirror and you went inside the living room where Benny was watching TV. He looked up at you and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of his baby blue eyes that looked extremely sad.

“Hi, baby. Had a good day?” He asked.

“Yeah. You?” You kept standing above him.

“Not really,” Benny admitted. “But, hey, it doesn’t matter, yeah? I called my cousin,” he told you and you raised an eyebrow. “I asked him if we could visit him in July and he said that it’s fine.”

Benny swallowed thickly and waited for your response, staring up at you like a puppy. You took a deep breath in and eventually nodded at him with a sigh before sitting next to him on the couch.

“What you watchin’?” You asked him.

“Some stupid movie,” he shrugged. “You happy about Florida?”

“Yeah,” you answered. 

But just because he had done something like this once, it didn’t mean that everything was suddenly okay.

“You haven’t worn your jacket with the patch today,” Benny pointed out awkwardly.

“My ma would kill me!” You chuckled at that with an eye-roll.

Long silence occurred after that. You were both staring at the TV and only pretending to watch the movie. Eventually, Benny moved in closer and put his arm around you. You flinched a little bit but you didn’t move away as your eyes filled with tears.

You loved him. You wanted this relationship to work but... Sometimes love was not enough. Especially when only one person was putting effort.

“I’m sorry I’m not good enough for ya, baby,” Benny whispered into your ear and you froze at his words. He kissed your cheek delicately and nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck. “I’m tryin’ my best,” he assured you. “But your friend was right. You deserve better.”

“Benny? What are you talking about? You heard Molly?” You turned your head around and lifted his chin to look up at you.

“Nah. I can read from the lips,” he shrugged and your heart pounded faster in your chest. “Don’t worry, I ain’t angry at ya. She was right. I’m just angry at her for making you realise that.”

You clenched your jaw, not knowing what to say. Somehow, you wanted to comfort him but… There were some things you wanted to say first.

“It’s not your fault. You’re just this way,” you caressed his cheek gently. “I don’t think you’re not enough. Maybe it’s me asking for too much. I knew who you were and what you were like when I took you in. I should have known what to expect,” you shrugged. “You’re just…” Your voice trembled and Benny furrowed his brows at you. “You’re just gonna drive away one day, right?”

“What are you talking about?” He shook his head.

“You’re a free spirit, Benny. You’re just gonna hop on the bike and disappear and I’ll be left with the mess to clean and the pieces to pick up. And I was trying not to get too attached but I have. And in return… In return you can’t even make me breakfast. Not even once!” You suddenly snapped as his eyes widened. “I wake up in the morning and make you breakfast every day. I go to work and earn money… Just to spend it later on some shitty lawyers after you get arrested, feeling guilty that I can’t afford a better one. Jesus, and now I can’t even go to my friend’s wedding just because she doesn’t want you there and, guess what, I don’t want to go there alone!” You raised your voice but then you sniffled your tears back and softened again. “I just… I just wish I knew that you were as serious about me as I am about you. That’s it.”

Benny moved uncomfortably and moved his arm away from your shoulder. He took a deep breath in and nodded his head.

“Ya think I’m just gonna drive away one day and leave you without a word?” He asked. “I mean… Yeah, I might. Because I’m clearly a burden. I’m gonna leave, that’s gonna be for the better,” he agreed with you but you could see his jaw clenching and eyes blinking away the fresh tears.

“I didn’t say that you were a burden, Benny,” you tried to explain but he stood up already and went up the stairs.

You followed him and you caught him packing his bag in your bedroom. You leaned on the doorframe and watched him.

“You can’t be serious, Benny. Why can’t we just have a normal conversation about it instead of you running away from the responsibility? You’re kinda provin’ my point at the moment, you know that?” You told him.

“Don’t wanna be a burden,” he insisted and you took a deep breath in before approaching him.

You put your hands on his arms and he flinched a little but he didn’t push you off. However, he kept on packing his things.

“Benny, baby, please, let’s just talk about it, okay?” You tried to talk to him in a soft voice as if he was a wild animal.

In many ways, he was.

“I even called my cousin an’ all that!” He suddenly turned around to look into your eyes. He was visibly angry but at the same time his eyes were glossy. “You wanted a fuckin’ vacation in Florida, so I called and got us a fuckin’ vacation,” he added.

“And I am grateful, baby, I am,” you assured him and placed your hands on his chest. You felt how fast his heart was beating and you caressed him there as if you were trying to soothe his heartbeat itself. “But that’s just… That’s like one time when you show me you’re treatin’ me serious.”

“I’m not treatin’ you serious enough, you say, huh?” Benny straightened his back and looked down at you. “But if I asked you to marry me, you wouldn’t say yes, right? ‘Cuz I ain’t no good enough, am I right?”

You were taken aback by those words. You blinked a few times, very slowly.

“Wha-what are you talking about, Benny?” You tilted your head.

“I wanna make you my wife,” he answered, seriously. “Wanted you as my Mrs. ever since I saw ya,” he confessed. “But I ain’t good enough…” He shook his head and looked away. “And I’ll never be for ya.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest as well. You bit on your lower lip and focused hard on overthinking his words. Suddenly, all your insecurities and doubts had disappeared. Your whole body was filled with butterflies.

Gee, yeah, he was… Different from the most. But he was special, too. And he was your Benny. You would never trade him for a man like Patrick for example – Ursula’s fiancé in finance. You would die of boredom with a guy like him. With Benny even those arguments that you were having with him were exciting. The way he was packing his bags or you were threatening to leave every other day, the way you were smashing plates sometimes, the way a phone call from the police station would wake you up in the middle of the night... It was making you feel alive.

“Oh, Benny!” You felt tears of happiness streaming down your cheeks and he looked at you again, confused. “Yes!” You jumped into his arms and he picked you up instinctively. “Yes, yes, yes!” You added and cupped his face to pepper it with dozens of tiny little kisses. “I’m gonna marry you, baby! Even tomorrow! Even now!”

Benny chuckled at that and kissed your lips properly as you put your hands behind his neck. 

“So, you just wanted a ring, my moody kitty, huh?” He teased playfully and you rolled your eyes with a smile.

You arrived at Molly’s place and knocked upon the door, fixing your jeans jacket. She opened the door and invited you in as usual.

It was a month since your last meeting with the girls. They looked you up and down as usual these days but then they furrowed their brows at the sight of your huge grin. Molly entered the living room behind you and took a seat on the couch, looking up at you with a questioning look.

“I have something to tell you,” you told them with a smug smile.

They looked at each other.

“You dumped him?” Barbara asked, excitedly.

“He knocked you up?” Molly, on the other hand, was rather scared.

“Don’t be daft. She wouldn’t be so happy then!” Susie pointed out. Clever as usual.

“I got married!” You exclaimed and showed them your hand with two new additions. A pretty engagement ring that you had chosen for yourself in the pawn shop and a brand new wedding band.

You watched with satisfaction how their mouths dropped. Ursula especially seemed to be butthurt, since you had managed to get married before her.

“And how’s dress hunting, ‘sula?” You teased her.

“I still don’t have a dress,” she admitted. You could see her jaw clenching. “And what were you wearing?”

“A short babydoll,” you answered and sat on the armchair nonchalantly.

“Why haven’t you told us?!” Molly asked and you looked at her as if she was crazy.

“Sorry, but… I don’t know how to say it… Benny and the other guys from the club…” You pretended to sound sad. “Well, they didn’t want you girls around, I hope you understand. No outsiders, you know,” you told them.

It was a lie, of course. None of them would have minded your friends coming. But the wedding had taken place a day after your argument with Benny anyway. There had been no time to send out invitations.

“That’s crazy,” Susie commented and you gave her a smug look.

“Gonna tell you somethin’ crazier,” you chuckled and she raised her eyebrows, curiously. “He got my name tatted right on his heart.”

MASTERLIST || BENNY MASTERLIST

[xlatrina]

(Pt. III) Friends to Lovers HCs w/Homicipher x GN!Reader

Tags: Platonic + Romantic HCs, Friends to Lovers trope for basically every LI, Likely OOC for some LIs*, Mini Scenarios (so HCs are kinda plot-driven), *Multi-Part Series, entirely SFW

Also, changing tenses in some cases + not proofread again... sorry!

*Some of the LIs are likely written OOC (Out Of Character) mainly due to a lack of substantial in-game appearances (at least in my opinion!). 

*Split into multiple parts because I’ve come to realize that these HCs are muuucccchhh too long 😅 BUT!! I’m too lazy to shorten them sooo… YEAH lol

Part I (Big 🙆‍♂️)

Part II (Mr. Chopped 🪓)

Part III (Mr. Crawling 👣)

$$$

Mr. Crawling

This man is in love with you.

Lowkey could stop right there.

Well, anyway…

Mr. Crawling is a GREAT friend, actually.

Like he’s the kind of buddy that’s —first of all —down for whatever.

You said you tryna go walk through an unfamiliar part of the Apartments to try and find a mysterious elevator?

Well…

YEAH SURE HE’LL TAG ALONG

I MEAN… WHY THE HELL NOT, Y’KNOW??

“Me know place here,” He’ll say. More or less: I know this place!

And he’s so damn chipper about it, too!

He’s just an overall helpful guy.

He seems to have an intrinsic protective streak in him, too.

Which is interesting, ‘cause it’s like…

While it’s obvious he’s been in the Apartments for a long time, it’s clear that he hasn’t completely lost his sense of humanity.

I mean, trust —it’s definitely worn in some ways.

Like, he eats people bruh.

Trust, his sense of humanity is def gone in some ways...

But!! At least he's not as violent as the other ghosts can be!!

Like, generally speaking, you’ll find that he’s a pretty admirable dude.

He doesn’t hurt other entities for the pure sake of hurting them.

Defense, and alternatively —for food or other resources like clothes or tools.

Those would probably be the only reasons Mr. Crawling would ever just… attack someone, especially unprovoked (unprovoked, but not necessarily without reason).

That being said, he’s a social butterfly!!

He’s literally a professional yapper in every sense of the word.

Like… he could start a podcast LMAO

Podcast Bro!Mr. Crawling…

Anywho, he’s genuinely a people person and he likes being in good company.

Whether it’s you, Mr. Silvair, Mr. Chopped, Mr. Stitch(?), the Nurse, Mr. Wheelchair, the Hairdresser, etc…

He’s genuinely the type who could talk to literally anyone about anything for any amount of time.

If you’re a yapper too, this’ll probably be fun for you!

And hell, you may very well have met your match, LOL.

If you’re more introverted or quiet —no matter.

Mr. Crawling, being the professional he is, knows how to fill up any awkward silences with banter.

He doesn’t judge you at all on the basis of how you react to his yapping. Truly.

At the end of the day, he just enjoys sharing your company and getting to hear your voice, as little or as often as that occurs.

Hopefully, you don’t find his constant need for company annoying.

… Do you find him annoying?

At some point, Mr. Crawling begins to realize his feelings for you have changed…

In the case you accept him as a partner, he’s absolutely OVERJOYED.

Not only have you promised to indefinitely keep his company, but you also accepted him as your better half!

“You enjoy me?” He’ll ask, pulling himself over your curled-up form beneath the thin white sheets of the hospital bed.

“Me enjoy you,” you’ll say. You might even pet his head a few times, and he’ll giggle maniacally before dropping his head into your neck.

As Mr. Crawling’s fondness for you intensifies, so does his protective streak.

This guy turns into Papa Bear when it comes down to protecting his better half.

What Megan thee Stallion said??

“Three things I don’t play about: myself, my money, or my man!”

That, but more like: “... my friends, or my partner!”

Something like that, LOL.

Mr. Crawling’s sweethearted, bubbly, outgoing, protective, and quite affectionate. Intimacy is a language he speaks as fluently as his otherworldly one.

As we know, he’s very much the “high-maintenance” type.

He’s just super affectionate overall —and Mr. Crawling just wants to know that you’re always on the same page!

Tell him you love him. 

Tell him how fun it was exploring the same old dreary halls with him. Tell him how relieved you felt when he swooped in to shield you from danger, even though you could handle yourself just fine. Run your fingers through his hair and massage the nape of his neck as you tell him how much you’ve come to enjoy —and maybe even crave —his company.

And when you’re done…

Tell him you love him. Yes, again. Again and again and again and again and again…

He could never get enough. Truly.

He could never get enough of you.

With a boyfriend like Mr. Crawling, you’ll never have to fear a lack of comfort, protection, friendship, or intimacy…

Because he’s constantly giving it to you. 

You don’t even need to ask for any kind of intimacy —again, he’s giving it to you anyway.

And whether you’d like to shack up in a nearby spare room beside Mr. Silvair and Mr. Chopped’s loungeroom (of the sort) or if you take him with you to the surface world…

It makes no real difference in the way Mr. Crawling clings to you.

All he knows is so long as you’re both finding yourselves tangled together beneath the sheets each night, all is right in the world!

Mr. Crawling just wants to spend his evenings at home, and if home is where the heart is, then…

Well, you know how that goes!

[Part I (Mr. Big 🙆‍♂️) | Part II (Mr. Chopped 🪓, First Half/Second Half), Part III (Mr. Crawling 👣)]

[cokoweee]

Okay last one I think…lovely stuff as always, I’m just juggling another brainrot right now, but I was itching to make some remarks. First off I’m glad midwesternvibes mentioned the text thing in the most recent update, because I was tickled to see that too! Probably the first time he had color since before their “spat” in the kitchen. As much as I know it’s still a roadblock in his recovery, I’m glad to see the voices coming back for Donnie. I kinda get this feeling they are hanging out with him until they know he’s going to be “okay”. And I have this little idea to myself, that when Donnie is able to start healing and processing his trauma, he stops hiding from them and is no longer afraid to see them. Of course that would be when they would start to slip away. (And that would be so rough for Donnie) Grief is kinda like that too. Sometimes you can be okay for a long time and you’ll have bouts where you still miss that person(s) even when you know you have accepted and moved on.

So I’m curious what is the situation that Donnie is on a watch. Is it just Draxum’s concern? Is it in case Donnie gets catatonic again? Is it in case he gets violent again? Is it to save his liver (those supersoldier genes only thing keeping it from failing)?

Also Draxum fixing Donnie’s sweater like a dad (only for Donnie to have his femme fatale shoulder thing as soon as the door is closed)

I’m a little surprised that this is the first time Kendra has seen Draxum do his mystic vine magic…or… he just hasn’t had too…or…all the mystic stuff happening lately has made Kendra more aware to it…or… but whatever the reason…appropriate reaction, lol

So something I have noticed that has me enticed is Donnie has been wearing his hand prosthesis more often.

Before the trauma induced episode, the only time we ever saw Donnie wearing it was when he was out or in “mission mode”. It makes sense, he needs to be able to save his ninpo for more than just temporary fingers. So why now… I was gonna suggest he is on edge, but I also remembered, as I was writing this, that you mentioned him having a slight disconnect to his ninpo…so yeah fingies is not a luxury he can afford right now. In any case…. Hmm…Donnnie….you know…if you didn’t shut your second dad outside…he mighta told ya that Kendra went out…ya know…? Also not sure if it’s just clueing us into Kendra still being sick or that trope of “if you sneeze three times it means someone is talking behind your back.” ? (I quote this one when I sneeze a lot, I’ll go “okay who’s trash talking me?!”)

Anyway please take care! Also p.s. if you do start to play Minecraft I hope you have fun. (I tried to play it but my laptop is too old and it crashes, so I can’t give much advice on it) also p.p.s I found a WIP of a thing I started writing for this AU in July, and I kinda…forgot I had it. It’s gonna be so out of place if I ever finish it, so just heads up for whatever was the hot topic then… <_<

GAHH I ANSWERED THIS BUT THE APP CRASHED AUGHHH. Let’s see if I remember what I said

I think I showed it a few times that despite Donnie constantly wanting said voices to stop, whenever they actually do, he feels uneasy. It’s quiet and he feels alone. I don’t write every single voice he hears all the time but just ones that feel right to show. There’s a lot he hears. The good the bad and the horrible.

Dancin a bit in that prosthetic part it’s a bit of a ref to sumthin y’all like to tickle a good bit sometimes lol

DRAXUM! A man not meant to be a father but ended up being a guardian. He hasn’t used his mystics cause there’s no need! Also Draxums reasoning for putting pickle boy on watch isn’t just his!

Casey is one that enforced it so harshly. That episode at the farmhouse was technically the first time she’s EVER seen Doobie in that state. Literally witnessed him break down, almost wipe out a farm and try to tear apart his own body. Both want no risk of not being able to get to Dibble so keeping him out of the lab that he can lockdown is a must for them

OOF THIS IS LONG HOPEFULLY I MADE SENSE. Cause I forgot a bit of what I said before

[luvtak]

stray kids as cliche romance tropes

❀ pairing skz x gn!reader

❀ genre/tw fluff fluff fluff!! a smidgen of angst, slightly (like the slightest) suggestive, some are est. relationship, some getting together <33

❀ w/c 2248, about 200-300 for each member (do not ask me what happened with linos hehe

❀ a/n here it is!! this took me like a month to write lol so i hope its good!! personal faves are minho and innies, let me know which one is yours <333

Chan: Childhood Sweethearts

You’ve lived your life holding Chan’s hand.

You met in elementary school, immediately infatuated with the boy and his shy smile. He called you pretty on the first day of school and spent the rest of the year taking care of you: sharpening your pencils and sharing his lunch. Adults would coo and call it puppy love, laughing at the lovesick smiles adorned on your faces, but there was nothing childish about how you looked at each other.

Middle school is spent going to the movies and sharing ice cream, swimming, and sharing sweet laughs. First kisses in the fall and gumball machine promise rings given in the spring—it’s innocent in the sweetest way, forever is simple when you’re thirteen.

Teenage years give way to deeper feelings and new experiences; There was no question you were together—even if you never had the conversation, his hands locked in yours tells everyone what they need to know. High School is defined by stolen kisses on doorsteps and promposals, nights spent giggling into each other’s mouths to keep quiet. You think you know his body and soul as well as your own, like leaves plucked from the same tree.

Childhood eases into adulthood, and suddenly you’ve loved each other longer than you’ve been alive. There’s no question of a future together, no pressure to ask what you are or what you will be. Sometimes you wonder if you missed out on something, if it would’ve been better to have loved more, but when you see him there is no question. It’s easy together, a quiet breeze encasing you in his affections, and you’ll continue like you always have, hand in hand.

Minho: Second Chance Romance

When you saw him again, you didn’t realize it would hurt so bad. He’s gorgeous, somehow even prettier than he was a year ago. You think the grocery store is an interesting place to have this interaction—an unusual intruder to your midnight snack run, haloed by ice cream.

It’s strange, looking at him like you’ve never met, as if he hasn’t seen the inner workings of your mind or mapped your skin with his hands.

You can’t deny you’ve missed him, still grieving the relationship you thought you’d be in forever. You broke up because you didn’t feel appreciated, you were always unsure about how he felt, and he was always too busy and too cocksure to change that. So, you were certain he’d ignore you and you’d both go on with your lives, but when he sees you, he smiles.

 It’s such a contradictory thing, to feel at ease at his figure, but anxious to hear his voice. You know how he’ll sound, so soft and charming, the perfect mix of arrogance and kindness.

When he finally stands in front you, there is so much the same as the last time you saw him, yet distinct differences in how he looks at you. A year ago, his eyes were filled with tears and now they’re so bright it’s blinding. He tells you it’s good to see you, that it’s been too long; he doesn’t want to bother you, but he doesn’t know the next time he’ll see you and he needs you to know that he’s missed you.

When he asks to walk you home, you surprise both of you by saying yes. Sharing stories of the year spent apart and lamenting over lost days together. He wonders if you’ll want to do this again, if you’re up to trying another time equipped with more love and more patience. And how can you say no, when he came back to you like an angel in the frozen food aisle.

Changbin: Damsel in Distress

When you fell, you wanted to die. There you were in the middle of the gym running on the treadmill when you lost your footing and fell directly on your face. It was not your proudest moment, and you were dead set on never setting foot in this gym ever again, maybe not even leaving your house you were that embarrassed. Until you hear someone asking if you were okay, and suddenly he’s fussing around you and lifting you up.

Changbin has seen you here before, watching you work on the equipment, and fantasizing about coming up and introducing himself, but he’s never gained enough courage. It was in the middle of one of these daydreams when you tripped, and immediately he was filled with worry. Rushing over, he checked your hands and pulled up your leggings to see if your knees were scraped and introduced himself while putting band aids on your cuts.

He's cute and nervous, and you can’t help but be swayed by how kind he is. He sits with you while you recuperate and asks to take you to lunch to make up for the embarrassment. The whole time he introduces himself as someone wonderful, you find that he’s silly and so sweet. When he admits to have been crushing on you, you laugh and wonder why he never came up to you before. And as the day comes to an end, you come to be a little grateful for the fall.

Hyunjin: Fake Relationship/Wedding Date

Hyunjin has been your friend for a long time, and your family has always wanted you to be together—it’s been years of awkward questions and dinner invites. When your sister got engaged, she told you to bring a date, and single as can be, the only person to ask was Hyunjin.

At first, he was hesitant. He knew and loved your family, and the idea of lying to them and pretending to be your boyfriend when he is certainly not, is hard to stomach. When he finally agrees he still wonders if it’s a good idea, but seeing the bright smile on your face makes up for it.

The family is ecstatic when they see who your date is, and as the night goes on you start to see why they’re so happy—on a superficial level, you’ve always known how beautiful and wonderful he is, but seeing him  here all dressed up and smiling down at you, you start to see what your family means when they say you’re perfect together. You’re dancing and talking, and he becomes so much more than just your friend.

He’s always loved you, maybe not romantically, but he has. And something turns when he’s dancing with you, maybe it’s the lights or the music, but he can feel something shift. When he takes you home that night, he wonders if it’ll still feel this way in the morning.

Jisung: Best friends to Lovers  

You know everything about each other, it’s as if you’re one person—finishing each other’s sentences and sharing inside jokes. You’ve spent your lives together, yet it has been purely platonic. You’ve both had relationships and never saw each other as more than you are, until one night he looks a little too pretty under the TV light and suddenly you’re overthinking every little interaction you’ve had.

If it’s normal to be so close to someone who’s just your friend—If other people put their best friend before anything else, including significant others. Jisung loves you, that much is obvious, but you’re not sure if he sees you the way you see him; he takes up every inch of your heart, everything you do is for him.

In Han’s mind, you know how he feels—it’s so clear to him how you feel for each other, while unspoken he thinks his  actions speak louder than words. He’s just been waiting for you to be ready, maybe that’s his mistake; you’ve both been waiting to make the first move.

Your friends are frustrated, waiting for you to finally see what they do. Lecturing the both of you on admitting your feelings, but neither you nor Jisung want to mess with the relationship you already have.

When you finally come to terms with how you feel, you confess to your feelings like a crime, he tells you like whispering a secret you already know. Shakey and tired of feeling so overwhelmed with how big your feelings are for him, you admit to realizing how much you truly love him. All he can do is laugh, wondering why you were both so anxious to tell each other this one secret, when you’ve shared all the others.

Felix: Vacation Romance

When your friends decided to go on vacation, you could never have dreamed of meeting someone as wonderful as Felix. You met him three days into your three-week trip, and if you thought he was lovely from afar, he’s even sweeter up close. The relationship was eager, escalating quickly over the course of your stay. Within days you felt like you’d known him forever, sure that you were somehow meant to meet.

Days are spent in the sun, soaking up love and light—watching new freckles arrive on his cheekbones as the weeks fade. His skin is always touching yours, hands in your hair and kisses pressed into your neck. He thinks he’s a little bit in love with you, even so, the threat of the end hangs over your head; you never thought this would last, in fact you knew it would be too hard to continue, but you throw yourself headfirst into it anyway.

Your first kiss is cautious and your last is hasty, a million little touches in twenty-one days leading up to a goodbye. You wonder if you’ll ever see him again, or if it only worked because it was temporary. Your friends laugh at you, thinking you’re taking this little fling too seriously, but they’ve don’t know what it feels like to have his eyes on you.

The night before you leave, he tells you he’ll miss you, and you think that’s it—that the vacation will just become a romantic memory to look back on, but he asks if he can call you, and you think that maybe this could lead to so much more.

Seungmin: Opposites Attract

There was no question, you two were very different people—while you were bubbly and bright, Seungmin was often blunt and withdrawn. Sure, he can be silly, and you don’t think you’ve met anyone funnier than he is, but often he can be cold. When you first got together all your friends wondered how it would work, if someone as sunshiny as you could really feel fulfilled by someone like him.

What they don’t see is how effortlessly sweet he is to you, taking care of your heart like it’s his own. It was difficult in the beginning, to accept both sides of him—the outside version who would barely hold your hand and the inside one, thoughtlessly grazing your skin. He has so much admiration and respect for your open nature; sometimes he wants to be more like you, but he doesn’t think you’d love him so much if it weren’t for your differences.

 You balance each other in the best ways, speaking up for him when his social battery gives way; laughing away his jokes when they could come off too hard. On the other side, Seungmin allows you a respite from the constant smiles—it can get exhausting keeping a positive attitude, but he loves you in your quiet moments as well as your loud ones. 

He’s loved you for all your differences, appreciated you more for them—even if no one understood it didn’t matter because when it’s just you two alone together, there’s nothing different about you.

Jeongin: Boy Next Door

You can count your life in moments spent walking home with Jeongin—he smiles down at you, and asks about your day, and shares his snacks. Summers spent in each other’s backyards, learning to swim and ride bikes; telling scary stories and recitations of silly dreams. As you get older, he only becomes kinder and more handsome, offering to drive you places and invites you out with his friends. It’s only natural to have a crush on him, to feel stubborn butterflies when his dimples are directed at you, but as childhood drifts away and the infatuation becomes more intense, you’re certain you’re in love with him.

When you left for college, you didn’t think your heart would tear into pieces, but all year you missed him. You missed the sidewalk conversations and the sweet grin before he’d offer something to share—you missed sitting in his car, sat so close to him you can smell his cologne mixed with the leather seats, but mostly you just missed his body next to yours.

No boy at school amounted to him, none of them made you feel as giddy and charmed, none of them were able to mask the need you felt for him. You wondered if he thought that way about you, so sure that he was sitting miles and miles away from you, yearning for your company.

When you arrived home for the summer, it was almost like he was waiting for you. Perched on his porch swing and looking out on an empty suburban street. His hair had grown longer, and he seemed freer somehow, but he was still Jeongin—still the boy who’d walk with you and trigger your hundred-watt smile. And when you finally took your first steps outside and waved him over, he was still just the boy next door, smiling down at you.

© luvtak

[andkisses]

♡ lovesick | enhypen ♡

ot7!enha headcanon: him realizing this feeling he has? is something he might want to pay attention to

♡ ot7 x gn!reader | wc. 615 total ♡ genres/tropes: fluff! he’s in love he just doesn’t know it  ♡ mentions of/warnings: none  ♡ a/n: little something for every member <3 first two above the cut, and the rest below ^^ inspired by taylor swift lyrics <3 i lowkey feel it doesn’t match the title but uh here’s wonderwall; this was also marginally proof read lol ♡ masterlist ♡

✧･ﾟ: *jungwon

everything is shinier now, brighter–jungwon almost can’t believe it. he wonders how could one person change everything? but there’s proof. he sees you in everything, the moon and the stars and the sun. you’re the birds singing, even the rain. and when he gets to hold you? he’s soft and delicate, like you’re the most precious thing the world–no, the universe has to offer. surely, this feeling will never go away, and jungwon’s okay with that.

✧･ﾟ: *heeseung

it hits him one random afternoon. heeseung’s not sure if it’s how the sun came down through the window or how you look sitting on the other end of the couch paging through a book. suddenly, he feels dizzy and the room is spinning, and you are at the center of it all, shining so brightly. and there’s this feeling in his chest unlike any other. it makes him feel sick, but it’s different. and, most terrifying of all, heeseung’s pretty sure he likes it.

✧･ﾟ: *jay

it takes bravery, sure, to be so close to you. you’re intoxicating, invigorating. at first jay feared it would be too much, but there was something–he couldn’t put his finger on it–that kept drawing him in. now, sitting here, listening to you talk about something with passion and light in your eyes and your hands drawing examples in the air, he thinks he knows what this feeling is. jay knows it will take a little more bravery to say out loud.

✧･ﾟ: *jake

he never thought it could be possible to see someone the way he sees you. you’re like a warm light, a glow where you are. jake never thought he could feel someone’s absence like he does yours, either. the coldness, how his thoughts chase after you. your smile, your laugh. you’re like an energy booster, nothing like anything else before. it causes a particular dizziness jake hasn’t been aware of before, and he’d like to know more.

✧･ﾟ: *sunghoon

the movie climax of the movie and all the drama plays out on the screen, but sunghoon can feel himself drifting off. he knows he won’t make it to the credits. he might not even make it through this scene. you’re already asleep next to him, head on his shoulder, hand on his arm. the rise and fall of your breaths, the sweet smell of your perfume. sunghoon isn’t sure if the feeling in his chest is because he’s tired, or something else entirely. as he drifts off, he decides he could get use to it.

✧･ﾟ: *sunoo

he’s certain you could out do any star. sunoo has met a lot of people, but none like you. he isn’t sure how you do it either, it seems to be so natural. yet you’re intriguing, creating your own kind of gravity. and even though he can’t name this feeling–or, he’s too shy to name it yet–sunoo knows he would be okay if he were a satellite caught in your orbit. because even if he doesn’t want to admit it yet, sunoo is already very comfortable with this feeling.

✧･ﾟ: *niki

it’s in the way his hands rattle when you’re near, or how niki’s breath likes to skip. the way his heart beats so badly, so loudly that he’s certain you can hear it. what is this feeling? he’s got to do something about it, because he feels like he is noticing everything about you, and he’s never seen anyone like this before–the way you fix your hair, your fashion, the way you laugh. that is what gets niki the most–whenever he gets you to laugh, and he knows, above everything else, he’d do anything to keep you happy.

[teecupangel]

Hiiii teecup!! How are you? Hope you're doing great, or ok at least :3c

Alrighty so I've been craving EziDes lately but I'm too busy to do anything and I have too many ideas so here it goes!

Childhood friends to lovers (god I'm such a massive sucker for this trope)

Now, I have a little bit of plot for this one, cuz this idea have been stuck in my head since 2023 🧍

Okok so it starts like usual. Desmond dies, isu bullshit, time travel, and he face plants right into Renaissance Italy. ALSO he got de-aged, maybe into his 6-7 year old self (I want them to meet pretty early in there lives :'3)

He wanders around for a while not really knowing what to do until a grumpy old lady sees him and how pathetic he looks and decides to hire him to work as her butler/caretaker (or something along those lines I don't really know at this point :'D)

And the lady's rich, not like filthy rich but rich enough. She's been living by herself for years and never got married or have any children (which I'm sure is frowned upon back then) and she's really grumpy, like 40 year old guy who just got home from a hard day of work kind of grumpy.

And most people find her very unpleasant and leaves her alone. So it was strange, downright disturbing to see a kid running around her estate doing chores and having conversations with her.

But anyways Desmond starts living with her, but he's plotting and scheming.... To save the Auditores and take care of the isu bs of course :D.

Desmond didnt plan on meeting with Ezio because he didn't want to mess up the timeline more than he already has...... and then Ezio come waltzing into life.

I don't have any clear idea of how the two would meet but it's I imagine it as extra cute :3c

Desmond is mature for his age..... A bit too mature and he's knows things that most children shouldn't,. All in all he's an odd kid.

Like mistress, like caretaker am I right ¯\_( ͡❛ ͜ʖ ͡❛)_/¯

Desmond cares about Ezio very much, everyone can see that, and he gets Ezio out of trouble. They're always together, rarely to be seen without the other.

On Desmond's busier days (when he have too many chores to go out) Ezio would come to the lady's estate to chat with him and even help him with some of his chores. He stays out of trouble when Desmond's not with him.... But sometimes he just can't help himself lol.

The lady and Desmond develop a parent child bond and judges people together.

And the rest is up to you because my brain is jelly. (You can name the lady. I don't have any ideas on it LMAO)

(You can also make her an important character or not, I just love her too much to cut her out of the plot)

(SHE ALSO HAD A GIRLFRIEND THAT SHE WANTED TO RUNAWAY WITH BUT SHE DIED AND NOW THAT'S WHY SHE'S GRUMPY ALL THE TIME. Do what you want with this info :3c)

(this turned from an EziDes ask to the lady lore dump, apologies)

I’m doing alright. It’s been a busier month than I expected hahahaha

So, for this one, I’m imagining Desmond’s mistress (as he likes to call her) / adoptive mother to be a collector of sort. Making her a collector of the art seems a bit too easy so we’ll pick something a bit eccentric.

She collects dolls.

Dolls aren’t all that popular during that time and, even when they were, the dolls that is more or less considered ‘acceptable’ are dolls describing the nativity and other religious centered dolls.

But she collects ‘strange’ dolls from foreign lands.

This gives us an excuse for Desmond to speak in other languages, sometimes talking on her behalf to foreign merchants who shows her dolls that she may purchase on a whim.

She knows how to speak some of the languages and it’s not like Desmond knows all the languages as well but she prefers to let Desmond do the talking with merchants she hasn’t dealt with before. (the whole “let’s see if they start talking shit about me because they think I don’t understand them” is a common setup between them)

She and Desmond also like to talk in foreign languages when they want to fuck with other people. They rarely badmouth anyone, talking about the most benign thing while their tone and body language can be misunderstood.

She also only speak in foreign languages when the Auditore boy visits. She calls him ‘Desmond’s boy toy’ or some other equivalent of that and Desmond can’t even tell her that he’s so wrong because then he’d have to explain why he knows that word in the first place.

Their home is filled with dolls of different origin and make. Some are even dolls so old Desmond feels like they should be in a museum in the future.

Ezio doesn’t really like entering their home because he feels like the dolls are watching his every move.

He’s pretty sure that the house is haunted.

Desmond doesn’t help the entire thing because, yeah, he also thinks the house is haunted.

To fuck with Ezio, he tells him that someone died in the house and she still haunts its hallways.

Desmond doesn’t know but someone did die in the house. The lady’s grandfather who used to make wooden dolls for her to play with. That’s where her fascination with dolls started.

She also commissions artists to make her dolls and no one knows where she got her money.

It became normal to see Ezio Auditore with the eccentric old lady’s ward(?)/adopted son(?)/secret grandchild(???) when he’s out for his chores. Ezio Auditore learning how to pick the best vegetables or meat was not something anyone had on their bingo card.

This is a super slow burn kind of deal for EziDes because Ezio started out as thinking of Desmond as his super smart and mature best friend while Desmond started out thinking of Ezio as someone he looks up to and wants to protect.

Really, the old lady is the one who clocked in that yeah, these two are gonna fall in love with one another because that was how her love life started.

Best friends to…

Well…

She just hoped his ending was a happy one.

(If you let me name her, Imma name her Renne and she'll spend most of her time teasing Desmond about his 'nonexistent' love life)

[gunnrblze]

I hate that Rorke took Logan, yes. Put him through all that horrific torture and brainwashing. Turned him against the only people he had left, flipped his world upside down. However, there’s something I can’t help but be appealed by with this overall scenario. ↓

Maybe it’s the dynamic I think they’d have, the “leader and their dog that follows them endlessly” trope that always hooks my ass for some reason. I think Logan would learn (be forced into) a new flavor of loyalty. That more vicious type, the morally bankrupt type. Assuming he’s treated the same way Rorke was, he’d leave the pit and all of that torture believing the Ghosts/his family somehow betrayed him too.

I have no doubt Rorke would cook up some big lie to help Logan believe it. That those men betrayed him, and by proxy, also betrayed Logan. That his father and brother did so as well. Elias backstabbed Rorke, “lets his men die to save his own ass”, and not only did that make him a shitty lieutenant/soldier, but also a shitty father.

He’d no doubt use Hesh as a tool, I think. A tool to further Logan’s changing beliefs. Why didn’t Hesh save him? Why hasn’t he come for Logan? Tried to save him over himself? We can obviously tell from Hesh’s character that he’d easily sacrifice himself for Logan without hesitation, but I think Rorke would have him believing the same thing he believes about Elias, that he saved himself and let Logan take the brunt of it.

So if he can’t trust his brother or teammates, if his father was a sham in the first place, who does that leave? Rorke.

I imagine they’d be inseparable, bonded by a type of abuse that not many have been through, at least not in the way they had. And there’s something appealing to me about it. About Rorke, in a twisted way albeit, getting something good out of all he’s been through. Do I think the dynamic with him and Logan would be very controlling? Yes. Without a doubt manipulative and deceitful? Yes. But I think it’d be almost healing (again, in his own twisted mindset lmao) for Rorke to take Logan on as a sort of project. To train him to be a Ghost killer rather than a Ghost himself.

And after all the brainwashing, Logan would no doubt be blind to reality of course, and I think he’d follow Rorke without hesitation. In the same way that he followed Hesh blindly, went anywhere his older brother did, I imagine he’d do the same with Rorke. Rather than being bonded with Hesh through brotherhood and the war/enemy they were fighting, he’d be bonded with Rorke through that torture and “betrayal”, through the new enemy.

And given how similar Hesh and Rorke are, the parallels within their characters personalities/goals/motivations, I think Logan would see Hesh in Rorke. Not only would he be forcibly tied to him now, but he’d see his brother in this man, and I think it’d only unintentionally help draw him in.

I think Rorke would no doubt treat Logan like a son, in a way. His soldier, his bred killer, ready to follow him to the ends of the earth. In fact I think he’d make himself a surrogate dad of sorts. The opposition he had with Elias would continue on for him despite the man being dead I think, and it would only continue to fuel him. After all, that’s what started all of this, that was a turning point for him. He’d not only use it to his advantage in manipulating Logan, but I imagine he’d also be willing to take Elias’ place in a way, whether that’s expressly his intention or not. Quite literally just an “Elias wasn’t shit, but I am the shit” type mindset. He’d already told Elias he believed himself better than the man while he was beating the dogshit out of him, so I do think he’d have that type of “I could be a better father than your own father was” mindset. And as much as I hate it, I also can’t help but enjoy the idea (don’t kill me for this lol)

Fed Logan would be a complete monster too. He was already very good, trained by some of the best there was, but after being taken and beaten down by Rorke? After being primed by him? Yeah…as much as I’d like to root for the remaining Ghosts, I’m not sure how much I believe they’d successfully take down both of them given their track record already. Although I think the federation having been largely defeated would put a dent in Rorkes performance/operations, I still think he’d dominate the fight now with Logan on his side. But I also think Hesh could fight god with his bare hands after allat so who knows lmao

They’d be inextricably connected, Rorke would make sure of that. And despite them fighting for the wrong cause and coming after our beloved good guys, I think Fed Logan and Rorke would work so well together that I almost can’t even hate it completely.

[chibishortdeath]

Alright I’ve thought about, I’m gonna actually start posting some of my criticisms of Netflixvania starting with the first season. I actually have a notepad document on my computer somewhere that’s just various rants about it that I’m gonna take from lol

Rant under a cut cause it’s long, spoilers, and also cause uh tldr I do not like the show 💀

Ok let’s start from the beginning of the show, episode one.

The first episode isn’t terrible, it’s a bit rocky, some red flags here and there for what was to come, but that’s kinda expected of animations like this. It usually takes them a couple episodes to pick up and grow into their own, so I was skeptical, but not gonna knock it entirely when I first saw it.

My biggest criticism of this episode was the complete missed opportunity to introduce certain characters from this section of the series’s story. Imagine if they had shown Isaac and Hector in the background of the castle or something at this point for foreshadowing later, as they would’ve already been studying under Dracula at that time. Imagine if that old woman Lisa helped ended up being one of Lyudmil’s family members, cementing them as friends of her for later. Alas, Netflix just decided not to use most of the already written backstories for most characters. But eh, that’s getting into nitpick territory.

And then the second episode happens… I honestly genuinely hate the concept of the Speakers and it’s because they completely replace a much more interesting (especially for the tone and themes they were going for) group for Sypha to be a part of: The Church. In the game, Sypha is a witch, something that’s currently not very good to be at this time, however the church employs a bunch of male wizard soldiers. This is already a perfect opportunity set up and ready to go for them to make their points of the church being hypocritical, add some intense dramatic irony with maybe the audience getting to know Sypha is a witch before anyone else does and seeing her interact with a bunch of people who would have her dead if they knew, and create a super conflicted situation where these church soldiers all die during their encounter with the cyclops, but yet they scrapped it for uh random group of magic users that kinda exist entirely for a plot that didn’t need a new device to work. And Sypha just being all hood down and no hiding just takes away something interesting about her character, making her kinda bland in the process. Like it’s one thing to have the Girl™️ who owns the braincell trope and another to have a character with some actual immediate conflicts. They totally could’ve played up the “oh no if Trevor knew would he kill me” dynamic, especially with witches being commonly lumped in with ‘monsters’ in a lot of other media and Trevor being ya know a monster hunter. And already just from this one design choice she completely loses her symbolic putting the hood down scene for much later in the story to show that she actually trusts people and feels safe enough to not need to hide anymore because she’s got people on her side now.

Also the lack of Grant is just a crime in itself. Grant could’ve worked perfectly as like the everyman of the group. Hell, with his background of being a former noble turned thief presumably after hard times to straight up losing his entire hometown to flames and leading a revolution about it, Grant literally has like almost every common not magical vampire hunter person experience. He could’ve given the group any of those perspectives and been told the perspectives of the vampire hunting life he hasn’t had, ya know? And he’d help differentiate the personalities and humors of the group in general. I literally can’t think of a negative to having Grant in the group.

So we were robbed of character development for Sypha and the existence of Grant, what’s next—

The Bishop character is someone that could’ve been interesting if he was written with any kind of nuance, but instead he’s extremely on the nose and blatantly laughably evil. Otherwise this guy is pretty forgettable besides how lame it was that they used Blue Fangs to kill him instead of ya know an actually recognizable enemy. Like the Blue Fangs design wouldn’t be bad if it was in literally anything else, but compared to the designs of most Castlevania monsters it’s just really lame. I’d’ve even accepted a Warg or something, idk. Personally I think having Death walk in taking the form of Zead and going through that speech while eventually turning into the skeleton form we know him as woulda gone hard but for some reason Death isn’t a thing until seasons later which sucks.

I also absolutely hate Alucard and the Cyclops being in the catacombs! Hate it! The Cyclops kinda had like a courtyard area for it and made sense being there since it was standing guard on the way to the castle. Literally what it is even doing in the catacombs 💀💀💀. Standing guard for… eepy Alucard? Why??? And the whole sleeping soldier thing or whatever they called him is just so obviously an excuse to have him appear faster and make it seem like it tied into the plot. Alucard absolutely should not have been introduced to the main group this early on because again that robs him of a bunch of opportunities for background and character development. He got maybe the one oh no dad don’t commit mass death that’s bad scene and nothing else when they had plenty of time to show him initially following his fathers orders and eventually growing to stand against him. And again??? Missed opportunity for anything radio drama related??? Like if there’s any opportunity to get any of that story more known it’s in an animation? And besides, it’s less work to just use whatever materials and supplemental materials already existed for the game!

Dracula’s Curse and CoD have:

Two games

Two manuals

Three manga (TokyoPop and Preorder)

A couple game guides

Flashback sequences in a radio drama

Flashback sequences in SotN AKA: the game everyone knows

A ton of references in later games cause IGA is a big Dracula’s Curse fanboy

Pachinkos

That is plenty of material to make an animation based on, especially because most games don’t get half of that, especially not NES games. They were literally handed like the NES game to adapt lottery and decided not to scratch like half the ticket 💀💀💀.

Alucard also being able to levitate kinda negates a lot of things. Like what the hell is the point of having a bat/mist form and a double jump then? If he can just be flying vampire Jesus immediately or whatever people call him idk. And you can’t tell me Alucard wouldn’t be painfully embarrassed if someone ever saw him shirtless come on this is the guy that wears like 5 layers of clothing in every game he’s in to the point that even in the modern era he’s choosing a suit over casual clothes. Every action he makes in this introduction to him is obviously fanservice for the sake of fanservice with very little thought behind it, except I’m not feeling very served right now. And having Trevor kinda lose that fight is a reoccurring problem this show ends up having: putting down other characters just to make certain ones get the cool fanservice moment. Contrary to what the writers of this show may believe, it actually doesn’t make me go “oh wow, Alucard is so cool and much badas”, it just feels weird and uncomfortable that Trevor is getting cheated out of one of his canon achievements because the writers preferred one character’s tits more than him.

So, basically, the show starts out with missed opportunities, concepts and characters getting cut out, watered down versions of characters that did make it in, cheap fanservice, poor explanations for things, etc etc. this all culminates into a resounding m e h + dread for later seasons being worse (boy was I correct on that fear lol).

Here’s some other things for the first season I didn’t know where else to fit:

None of the humor hit for me at all, like not a single joke. The humor was either a no response at best, but definitely a physically wincing from secondhand embarrassment at worst. Related to this, I feel like most of the dialogue reads like either someone who just learned what swear words are and thinks they’re really cool and funny or genuinely forced. At times most of the characters talk with the same delivery, cadence, personality, etc, it’s really obvious they were all written by the same person or group. And that even goes for background and side characters, too. This is a criticism I’ve never seen said: I really don’t like the voice acting in this show. I’m sure it’s no fault of the voice actors at all, but there were times in this where I either could not hear characters properly or could not understand characters properly and I had to watch it with closed captions on. The clearness and volume of the characters voices varies A LOT even just between scenes sometimes. And that combined with all the characters having really similar speech patterns, there were a lot of times where if I looked away from the screen, I genuinely could not tell if it was Alucard or Trevor speaking cause it sounded like it could reasonably have been either of them (and in some cases it literally didn’t even matter that much which character was saying what). It’s an absolute tragedy that the color schemes in this show are not remotely similar to Dracula’s Curse too. I understand why some color combos wouldn’t make it for eyestrain reasons, but the pixel artwork in all the NES titles is beautiful. Same goes for music, like I am never going to forgive this series for using Bloody Tears for a Dracula’s Curse ‘adaptation’ and not Beginning or Aquarius or Dead Beat or Ghost Ship or Clockwork or— ya know? These are two things that the series are really known for so you’d think with some of the fanservice they did they’d be all kinds of ready to use stuff like that for more of it.

Anyway, past season one is when I started watching the series primarily through clips/episodes reposted on YouTube or elsewhere cause I had completely lost any interest in it. I’ll probably go through synopsises online again for season 2 just to try to better remember what happened in that one because I do remember having very little good to say about season 2 as well and I gotta do that research so I can hate things properly :3.

There’s a certain part of this where I just kinda blanked on things to even say, partially because Season one is kinda bland in general, but partially because I started getting sleepy while typing. So if I feel like I missed anything season one specific I’ll just put it in the beginning of the season two post. d(_ _ )

[justauthoring]

BLUE LOCK BOYS - CLICHE ROMANCE TROPES [2]

includes: isagi yoichi, mikage reo, chigiri hyoma all x fem!reader

warnings: kissing? again lol. a/n: no one asked for this, but i wanted it lol. i wanted to put isagi and reo in the first part anyways, so. (let me know if you’d guys would like more characters?)

ISAGI YOICHI - “i’ve felt this way about you for years.”

This was absolutely your worst nightmare.

Really, The universe must have some sort of personal vendetta against you because the secret you’ve spent years keeping a secret was now revealed to the last person you’d ever want to know the truth.

What’s worse?

He hasn’t said anything.

Not a single word.

Since he’d found out -- regrettably from your own stupid lips -- he’d stood there in complete silence, some sort of dumbfounded look on his face with burning red cheeks that ran down to the back of his neck. He hadn’t even moved. Entirely too still and silent for someone who’d just found out that girl he’s been friends with since the both of you had been in diapers was entirely and irrevocably in love with him.

Oh, and that you couldn’t stop staring at his lips without wanting to kiss them -- that had slipped out too.

“Well?” You huff, finding the silence unbearable. It was unbearable! Seriously, who just didn’t say anything after a confession like that? Especially to a life long best friend. “Say something.”

It’s unconscious the way your body curls into itself, arms coming up to hug your body as you glance down at your feet. You can barely look at him without feeling yourself cringe in embarrassment. 

Sure, you’d known eventually he’d have to know; especially since you’d planned to have him in your life for a long time, even if platonic. He’d have to know eventually, you’d known that but this? This was not how you’d wanted him to know. From your lips, yes, but while practically screaming the words in frustration at your own mother as he walked in your house, unfortunately catching every last bit of embarrassing thing you’d confessed.

“Look, you don’t have to return them, okay?” You add when he’s still not said anything. “I never expected you too either. I get it’s weird and you probably think of me as a sister or something, I dunno. But, just... please don’t let this ruin our friendship. I mean, I’d understand if you’d need some time or--”

Your endless rambling is cut short by the sudden feeling of someone’s lips against your own.

Your entire body freezes, Isagi’s hands moving to awkwardly grab your own arms, fumbling for a moment in the sort of way someone does when they have no idea what they’re doing. The kiss isn’t much different either. His lips really just press against your own more then either of you actually kiss, and it might last a second longer then it should but still, it takes your breath away all the same.

“Yoichi...” You whisper as he pulls away, your hands falling to your lips as you stare up at him in disbelief.

His eyes are wide and it’s like what he did slaps him in the face with a sudden realization.

“I-I’m so sorry...”

Shaking your head, you fumble for words; “you’re.... Yoichi, why’d you just kiss me?”

“You were rambling so much,” he huffs exasperatedly, “I couldn’t listen to you say stuff that is so entirely wrong. I mean...”

Words fading, he turns back to you.

“You mean...?” You echo, head tilting as hope flutters in your chest. “You feel the same?”

Isagi nods all too eagerly. “I’ve liked you for as long as I can remember,” he confesses with a whisper. “I mean... I was so sure you didn’t return my feelings.”

Letting out a light laugh, you can’t help the smile that curls onto your lips; “so we were both just hiding our feelings for each other, huh?”

“Seems so.”

Eyes flickering down, you reach forward, slipping his hand in your own with a light pink dusting your cheeks. “Well, I guess...” You hesitate a moment, meeting his eyes to make sure this is okay -- it’s easy to tell that it is. “We don’t have to any longer, yeah?”

REO MIKAGE - “i can’t help the way i feel about you...”

“My parents would never allow it...”

“I know.”

“They’ll want me to marry someone rich, someone beneficial to the company, to my career.”

“I know.”

Swallowing thickly, Reo shakes his head. “But I don’t care.”

You knew the words were coming, had seen it plain as day on Reo’s face. Felt it in the way he refused to let go of your hand or stop the small traces he left on the back of your hand, somehow soothing the rushing pounding of your heart against your chest. You’d been nervous, everything was happening so fast and you knew what Reo was going to say -- even if it was wrong.

“Reo,” you sigh, “I don’t want to be the reason you and your parents don’t get along.”

He shakes his head, lips parting but you’re quirk to interrupt him.

“Every get together, I’d be the one they’d blame for stealing their son away,” you explain desperately. “Every single memory of me would be tainted by the fact that you chose me instead of them. I love you. I love you so much... but I think maybe it’s time--”

His presses a finger against your lips, gently hushing you as he pulls you closer, pressing his chest against your own with a shake of his head. You sigh as he does, shoulders falling but unable to stop him or argue otherwise anyways. You’ve never been able to argue with Reo anyways -- because every time you went to, you’d meet his eyes and you’d fall in love all over again and then... then all the words would just die on your tongue, unheard.

Plus, you’d be lying if a part of you didn’t really want to argue this, either.

“Nothing has ever stopped my from disobeying my parents before,” he smiles lightly, grinning when you roll your eyes at his words. “I mean, my soccer career? They’re furious. I still don’t even plan on taking over the company. And I love you, Y/N. More than anything.”

Biting your lip, you glance up at him.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Sighing, you shake your head, raising your hand to grasp Reo’s own tightly.

Meeting Reo had been chance. It had been a simple coincidence. Simply bumping into each other on the street, you’re bag had fallen and everything in it had tumbled out -- Reo had of course helped you pick everything up and then you’d met his eyes, and everything had just happened from there. 

He’d never once kept who he was a secret from you. It was easy to know the Mikage name and Reo quickly proved that he liked to spoil you any opportunity he could.

You just hadn’t known it’d be a problem until you met his parents.

What had been a long day of nerves and making sure you looked every bit presentable, had ended in barely concealed tears from you and scream from Reo as he cursed his parents. They’d been less impressed to learn that unlike Reo, you weren’t so well off and were still currently in school. Hateful things had left their lips, insults so cruel you’re not sure you’d ever forget them.

Reo had not once hesitated to defend you, which had made everything ten times harder.

“You know they’ll hate me, right?”

“I know,” Reo nods, “but I don’t care. And neither should you. You’re my priority, my family, okay?”

And the thing is, the answer comes so naturally that there was never any denying it.

“Okay.”

CHIGIRI HYOMA - “and then i saw you...”

You’d been on your way home from school.

The train was pack tightly, and unfortunately you hadn’t been early enough to catch a seat; so, you held tightly to the handle above your head and tried not to fall every time the train jerked to a sudden stop.

You’re about halfway home when you’re rudely shoved to the side by a man whose clearly in a rush to get off, barely paying you any mind as your grip slips from the handle and you find yourself tipping backwards. A yelp of surprise leaves your lips, unable to do anything but let yourself fall until there’s an arm pressed into your back, stopping you from making a complete fool of yourself.

It takes you half a second to gather your bearings, before your head turns only to see the most beautiful pair of eyes you’re sure you’ve ever seen.

“Are you okay?”

The man who caught you -- and whose lap you’re currently sitting in -- looks genuinely concerned as he asks. His head is tilted cutely to the side, and his voice is soft as you stare back at him, lips left parted.

You can’t help but stare. His eyes are one thing, a pretty, twinkling pink staring back at you. But his face is another; soft and inviting, with pink hair to match his eyes that is so cutely tied back into a ponytail. You’ve never seen someone so... beautiful.

But it isn’t just that...

As you stare back at him, you suddenly feel warm, shivers travelling down the back of your spine as your heart starts to pound.

You’re... enamored.

“Ma’am?”

You blink as he presses, shaking your head to snap yourself out of your stupor. Suddenly realizing that you’re still sat in his lap, you quickly push yourself to your feet; the train is luckily a little emptier, allowing you to bow slightly at him. “I’m so sorry,” you rush out, bright red. “Thank you for catching me. I’m okay.”

He’s holding his hand up, shaking his head. “It’s perfectly fine,” he laughs lightly, “it was that man’s fault. For pushing into you like that.”

Biting your lip, you try to ignore the fluttering feeling that erupts in you, twisting your stomach into knots. “Yes, well...” Voice trailing, you realize your stop is approaching, blinking the clear you’re oddly frazzled mind. “My stop is next so...”

“Mine too,” he says.

It’s a silent agreement as he moves to a stand, weaving in front of you to create space in the crowd as the train comes to a stop. You step out behind him, and the doors shut behind you, the train moving off to the next stop a moment later but neither of you move to leave.

He’s the first one to speak.

“I don’t know if this is pushy of me and I know we just met... but would you like to join me for dinner?”

Eyes widening, you can’t stop the burst of excitement that courses through you.

“I-I’d... love to,” you all but beam, a smile curling onto your lips. Then, you remember the fact that while you’re entirely too happy your, while odd and sudden, feelings aren’t one-sided; you don’t even know his name. “I mean... that would be wonderful...?”

“Chigiri,” he smiles, “Chigiri Hyoma.”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You bow slightly, “it’s wonderful to meet you, Chigiri-san.”

“Please, just Chigiri. Hyoma if you’d like.”

There’s a small blushing dusting across his cheeks you notice faintly. 

“I can’t explain it,” you shrug, “but just seeing you makes my heart flutter, Hyoma.”

And it’s almost like he seems relieved as you say it, shoulders falling with ease and a grin spreading across his lips as his eyes twinkle in delight.

“I feel the same actually.”

[weemssapphic]

I desire. And I crave.

part one

Jane Murdstone x fem!reader

series page

summary: Jane Murdstone suffers from Hanahaki Disease. The object of her affections? Her lady’s maid. Too bad she would rather feel the cold embrace of death than confess her feelings. ~ For those unfamiliar with the Hanahaki Disease trope: HD is a (fictional, lol) disease where someone begins coughing up flower petals because they have unrequited feelings for someone. If not treated, the disease is fatal. Treatment is either a. the feelings become requited, or b. surgery (the caveat here is that the feelings for that person disappear entirely).

words: ~5k, ao3 link

chapter-specific warnings: slight angst/angst with a happy ending, Hanahaki Disease, blood, mentions of death/near-death experience, fear of death, unrequited love (or is it), hints of soft!Jane but also angry!Jane

That man to me seems equal to the gods,             the man who sits opposite you             and close by listens             to your sweet voice

            and your enticing laughter—             that indeed has stirred up the heart in my breast.             For whenever I look at you even briefly             I can no longer say a single thing,

            but my tongue is frozen in silence;             instantly a delicate flame runs beneath my skin;             with my eyes I see nothing;             my ears make a whirring noise.

            A cold sweat covers me,             trembling seizes my body,             and I am greener than grass.             Lacking but little of death do I seem.

Sappho 31

Jane Murdstone doesn’t have a soft spot for anyone. She prides herself on her calculating, cunning manner, takes joy in inciting just a little bit of fear in those she comes in contact with. A little healthy intimidation keeps people on their toes - and, in Jane’s mind, there is nothing worse than a person who is lazy or slow-witted.

No, Jane doesn’t have a soft spot for anyone. Except perhaps her lady’s maid. And only a little bit, really. It’s just that Jane has rarely met anyone who is able to keep with her like you are. 

What had first endeared her to you had been how quickly you’d caught on to your duties when you’d been hired, and how extremely meticulous you are - outshining any other maid or servant she’d ever employed with your eye for detail. 

What has her swooning (if, of course, she were even the type to swoon, which she isn’t, thank you very much), is realizing how your intelligence and quick-wit rival her own. 

She has often even caught you smiling slightly when she’s made a cutting, sarcastic remark towards another servant. Others cower in fear (which has an appeal all of its own), but you are unphased, seeming to appreciate her wit like no one else - it makes Jane’s heart flutter in a most unfamiliar way.

Today, Jane sits at her vanity, allowing you to pin up her hair for the day. She watches you in the mirror - you avoid her gaze, focusing intently on ensuring not a single hair is out of place, which gives her the freedom to stare. Her eyes track your movements, the painstaking way in which you push each pin into place, the concentrated way in which your pink tongue darts out ever so slightly and your brow furrows as you work.

Her gaze lingers on that tongue of yours, between full, soft lips, and Jane feels a warmth spread through her core. Her entire body tingles as your fingers brush against the nape of her neck, the gentle touch sending a shiver down her spine. She curses internally at herself - she should not be having such sinful feelings or thoughts about a maid. But you aren’t just a maid, are you?

She knows that her feelings aren’t professional. But you don’t seem interested in her anyway, only engaging in conversation when spoken to (although, really, that is what Jane had initially requested) - and you’re young, anyway, much younger than she is. She realizes she hasn’t had many personal conversations with you - she certainly doesn’t know where your interests lie. Men, women? Perhaps both? She allows herself to get lost in her musings, to indulge in the thoughts of lustful fantasies that will never come to fruition.

You push the final pin into place and look up, catching Jane’s eye in the mirror. Your eyes widen and your cheeks flush, and Jane quickly averts her gaze.

“Is it to your liking, milady?” comes your voice, slightly timid and perhaps a bit breathless.

“It’ll do,” Jane replies airily, regarding herself in the mirror. Of course it is to her liking - she has never felt more beautiful since you’ve come into her service - her previous lady’s maid had never been able to do her hair just right (her work, in general, had been so sloppy compared to yours).

As Jane rises to her feet, her thoughts, regrettably, lingering on you, she feels a tickle in the back of her throat. She begins to cough. It takes several seconds for the cough to ease up, and when it does there is a strange burning in her lungs that has her pressing her hand to her chest.

She turns to find your hesitant gaze upon her.

“Are you feeling ill, milady? Shall I make you a mustard plaster?”

Jane scoffs. She doesn’t feel ill. “Don’t be absurd, girl. It will pass. Fetch me some pepper tea and begin the rest of your duties, before you fall behind.”

“Yes, of course, milady. Right away.” You nod curtly, your gaze still curious and uncertain, before turning on your heel and hurrying down to the kitchens. Jane scolds herself for the longing she feels for your presence as soon as you vacate the room, shaking her head lightly and perching at her vanity to await your return, her throat beginning to tickle with another cough.

~~~

You’ve been working as a lady’s maid for Jane Murdstone for close to two years now - and they have been, for the most part, the most comfortable years of your life. After a bit of a rocky start (it had taken you quite a bit of time to be able to properly decipher Jane’s moods and get used to her cold demeanor and cutting, sometimes even cruel remarks) you’d settled into your routine and even gotten to like the abrasive woman.

She isn’t exactly kind to you - you aren’t sure if she’s ever been kind to anyone in her life - but she doesn’t seem to show quite as much disdain towards you as she does towards the other servants. She seems to recognize your diligence and intelligence, traits that she appears to value, and though she’s never openly thanked you for anything, she sometimes gives you a look of approval when you manage to anticipate her needs without her having to speak them aloud. That look alone always makes your heart beat just a little faster.

In turn, you admire her quick wit and sharp tongue, her ability to use words as a weapon and find a smart response to anything within a matter of seconds - you wish you possessed these traits, although you sometimes wish she would go a bit easier on others, particularly the other servants. 

You adore her intelligence and share her love for poetry (sometimes, she asks you to read to her and, recently, she has occasionally started to ask your opinion on certain lines - it makes you nervous, but you would do anything to please her). 

And she is beautiful. Her silky raven hair accentuates the icy blue of her eyes and her fair skin, while her unusual height and soft curves never fail to bring a flush to your cheeks. You often wonder how she hasn’t found a husband yet - if you were a man, you’d have already asked her hand in marriage long ago. There must have been suitors in her youth - you imagine a young Jane Murdstone, fresh-faced and innocent, and you shiver. She likely thinks herself too good for the likes of some foolish man, you think. Which she is, of course…

Pinning up her long, dark tresses always brings you more joy than you care to admit. Sometimes, if your mistress appears to be in a particularly pleasant mood, you allow your fingers to linger in the lush locks, taking your time with each and every wave. It is almost a sensual experience for you, though you would never admit it out loud. Definitely not to Jane herself.

When you finish with her hair and look up to find her regarding you in the mirror, you worry she has sensed your dawdling and is gearing up to reprimand you. Her response, however, indicates she is pleased with your work (you’ve learned that “it’ll do” is often the highest praise you’ll receive from your mistress, and, for that, it makes your heart swell).

A brief coughing fit causes you concern, and, of course, Jane refuses to allow you to properly care for her. It is not your place to argue, though, so you do as you’re told and scamper down to the kitchens. You leave the cup of tea on Jane’s vanity, then dismiss yourself to begin patching up a dress that Jane had requested you fix.

~~~

Jane’s cough appears to worsen over time, though she doesn’t necessarily appear ill. It puzzles you as much as it troubles you - she refuses every attempt from your side at finding a cure, be it a home remedy or allowing the doctor to stop by.

You decide to do something kind for her to ease her worries - you can sense the cough is beginning to perplex her as well, though she doesn’t say anything. Rising early, well before you are to assist Jane with dressing, you sneak into the gardens, intending to pick some flowers for your mistress.

Your eyes immediately land on the white phlox decorating the garden path. You are painfully aware that Jane is well-versed in the language of flowers, as ladies of her status often are, and would likely assign a meaning to whatever bloom you gift her, so you must be cautious. White phlox seem safe enough - pure intentions, honest commitment, faithfulness - all sentiments that can easily be written off as your devotion as a servant, with little room for misinterpretation.

Methodically snipping off a fistful of flowers near the edge of the flowerbed, where they won’t be missed, you find a small, ornate vase for the blooms and carry the bouquet carefully up to Jane’s bedroom.

You knock, as you do every morning, waiting for Jane’s smooth voice to call out “you may enter” before slipping in through the door.

“Good morning, milady.” You curtsey as best you can with the vase held firmly in your hands. “I brought you a small gift.”

Icy blue eyes fall to the bouquet, widening ever so slightly. You think you see a blush creep up her cheeks, though you quickly write it off as a trick of the light - you’ve never seen your mistress blush before.

“What’s the occasion?” Her eyes don’t leave the bouquet as she speaks, and she takes a step towards you as if transfixed.

“None, milady. I wanted to give you a token of my appreciation, is all. You have been very good to me in my time here - I hope the flowers can brighten your day.” You try not to blush or stutter as you speak, though Jane’s impenetrable gaze (that has begun to track every inch of your face) makes this difficult for you.

She is silent for a moment, as if allowing your words to sink in, her face an impassive mask. Finally, she speaks.

“They are very pretty.” She clears her throat. “Please place them on my nightstand.”

Her lips curve upward, stretching timidly towards her ears as she watches you follow her orders, and your heart races. When you turn back to face her again you can sense a hint of admiration shining through in those piercing eyes of hers, and it makes you giddy.

~~~

Jane’s cough is persistent. It doesn’t ease up as the days and weeks go on, and Jane wonders if maybe she should see a doctor, or allow you to try some other form of home remedy - even though she appears not to have any other symptoms of illness. These worries are always brief in nature, however, and she manages to push the thoughts of illness far from her mind. Until one morning just after you’ve left her bedroom, having brought her a small bouquet of white phlox from the garden.

As she admires the flowers, her thoughts drifting to the faint blush that had colored your cheeks as you’d gifted them to her, Jane feels a weight on her chest, accompanied by a light tickle at the back of her throat. The tickle quickly turns into a scratch and before she knows it, she begins to cough again. She covers her mouth and when she pulls her hand away, there is a single tiny, white petal nestled in her palm. She recognizes the petal immediately - it looks just like the petals of the phlox that decorate her nightstand. 

She furrows her brow. It can’t be… She shakes the thought from her head as quickly as it comes, tucking the petal into the drawer of her nightstand - she knows no one would dare open it - and clears her throat, the scratchy feeling already fading.

~~~

You are lacing up Jane’s corset as usual, trying to tamp down the blush that dusts your cheeks when your fingertips occasionally brush against Jane’s back. Unable to help yourself, you allow your fingers to linger just a moment longer - too long. Jane stiffens under your touch and you wonder if you’ve pushed too far, but then she begins to cough and sputter and you drop the laces of the corset as if burned. 

“Milady… are you alright?” you ask apprehensively, concerned by the exaggerated heaving of Jane’s chest. 

“Leave,” she rasps out, raising her hand to cover her mouth. You stand rooted to the spot, too worried to heed Jane’s warning - and you are sure it was a warning. 

“You insolent girl, I said leave!” she croaks, not sparing you a glance. The venom in her voice between coughs surprises you and spurs you into action - you rush out of the room, not daring to linger long enough to curtsey, shutting the door behind you. Jane’s coughs can be heard just a moment longer, before they begin to subside.

You return to your own chambers, pacing nervously as you wait for further instruction - the rest of your morning duties would involve tidying your lady’s chambers, but you are almost certain you aren’t currently welcome there. 

A knock shortly thereafter causes you to bolt to the door, smoothing your skirt before opening it just a crack. You feel a weight on your chest when you see the younger chambermaid, Emily, standing before you. 

“Hello, Miss. I am to inform you that Miss Murdstone is not feeling well today. She does not require your presence and requests you do not attend to her chambers,” Emily says timidly. 

You stare at her in shock. “O-okay.”

Emily digs around in her apron and pulls out a folded piece of paper. “I am to give you this as well, so you’ll have alternative duties to perform.”

Numbly, you take the paper, thanking Emily who nods in sympathy and turns to leave. You unfold the paper and scan the list - they are tedious duties, busy-work, and you are sure you will be finished quickly; things like replacing the water in the flower vases, dusting the books in the library, fixing up a loose thread in the sleeve of your mistresses overcoat.

You carry out these duties with a heavy heart, trying to keep your mind from wandering to Jane, from wondering what is wrong with her and why she won’t allow you to attend to her. The last time she was ill, you’d been asked to wait on her hand and foot, bringing her medicine and water and reading to her at her bedside. You wonder if you’ve done something to offend her - the thought alone makes you sick with worry.

~~~

Days turn into weeks and Jane withdraws more and more. You have come to expect a list of daily duties waiting for you by Jane’s door - you are no longer given permission to enter her bedroom, a room which Jane now seldom exits. 

Rumors about Jane’s illness spread amongst the servants - you, being her lady’s maid, are eyed curiously by the others at mealtimes, though no one dares to question you about the mysterious cough that has Jane retreating from society, not showing up to supper and refusing any form of sustenance that is brought up to her bedroom.

One morning, you see Emily exit Jane’s chambers. At first, your blood boils - why is Emily given permission to enter Jane’s chambers, and you aren’t? What’s so special about Emily? What have you done to displease Jane?

Then your eyes drop to the bedsheets that Emily carries. Brilliant white, dotted with specks of deep red. You feel as though your heart drops all the way down to your feet - you are certain it would drop even further if that were at all possible. Your mind races - that can’t be blood? If it is… then Jane is more ill than you’d thought. 

Your stomach churns and you make eye contact with Emily, who doesn’t bother to hide the worry on her face as she rushes past you, attempting to shield the sheets from view. You consider pestering Emily about Jane’s condition, however your pride is too great - you would have to admit that Jane no longer trusts you enough to speak with you, let alone see you. You are sure everyone knows by now anyway, but you refuse to admit it aloud.

You perform your duties half-heartedly and with a hollow pit in your stomach, often lingering outside Jane’s bedroom door when no one else is around. Occasionally you hear fits of coughing, and they often sound strangled, as if she is choking on something.

The first few times, you call out to her, asking if she is alright. At first, she asks you to leave, in a harsh yet utterly spent tone. After a while, she stops responding at all - and then, even later, you stop asking, choosing to simply lurk for a moment before carrying on with your day. 

It is a random Tuesday when you decide to try again - you bring a cup of her favorite tea, clinging to a tiny tendril of hope that she will be pleased at your thoughtfulness. You knock on Jane’s bedroom door, receiving no answer. 

“Milady, I have brought you some tea. May I come in?”

Still, no answer.

“I’ll just come in for a moment to leave the tea with you, milady.”

You push open the door as you’re speaking and walk up to Jane’s bedside, determined. If Emily can, then so can you, you think. 

Jane is livid.

You barely have a moment to appraise her, to assess the state of her illness, before rage settles over her features. She pushes herself up from the bed with great effort, closing the short distance between the two of you and ripping the porcelain cup out of your hands. The dark liquid sloshes over the rim of the cup and stains the rug underneath your feet - Jane either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“Get. Out.” Jane grits out, her voice scratchy like sandpaper, and you shrink back, taking slow, tentative steps backwards towards the door. You can feel your heartbeat in your throat - you have rarely seen Jane in such a blind rage, and it has never been directed at you before. 

“Please, milady, I only wish to help! If you could just-”

“NOW!” Jane bellows, lifting the hand that holds the teacup. You know she is about to throw it - you rush out the door, closing it behind you as the cup smashes against the wood, shattering instantly. 

That night, you have trouble sleeping. The shattering of the porcelain still rings in your ears, the fury on Jane’s face at the mere sight of you is imprinted on the back of your eyelids when you close your eyes. Your heart aches, grieving for Jane’s health - and for the loss of Jane’s presence in your life.

A few weeks after the incident, you overhear a conversation in hushed tones behind the closed door of Mr. Murdstone’s office that brings tears to your eyes:

“-sister. Is she still ill?” It is the voice of Mr. Browning, a business associate of Mr. Murdstone.

“Gravely, I’m afraid.” The usually impassive Mr. Murdstone, who has never sounded anything less than harsh and confident, clears his throat - his voice has wavered and this alone alarms you greatly.

“Is there a prognosis?”

“She refuses to allow anyone to see her, even her lady’s maid. I am unsure of the nature of the illness but it seems-” he clears his throat again. “-it seems she won’t make it past the turn of the season.”

You turn away from the door - you’ve heard enough. Bile rises in your throat, and your knees buckle as your legs threaten to give away underneath you - you take unsteady steps to your room, allowing yourself a moment to break down in the solace of your bed as the tears you’ve managed to keep at bay begin to fall, staining the pillow beneath your head like a patchwork of droplets.

~~~

Jane knows what’s wrong. No one else may know it, but Jane knows it, and it fills her with a sense of dread she’s never felt before.

At first she’d thought nothing of her cough. But once the petals began expelling themselves from her throat, she knew. Hanahaki Disease was rare, but she’d seen it in action before. She always thought herself above it all - she wasn’t one to give her heart out so easily, she wasn’t foolish enough to feel something for someone who didn’t want her. And, since no one wanted her, it was quite easy not to want in return.

But she’d overestimated herself. And she’d allowed herself to show softness, to show weakness. She’d allowed herself to fall in love. 

It had slipped through her grasp, that pesky feeling, trickling smoothly through the hairline cracks in her metaphorical armor like a tiny stream, going entirely unnoticed until it was too late.

And now, she is paying the price. Of course, Jane thinks bitterly as she sits at the edge of her bed, recovering from a particularly harsh coughing fit, glowering down at the petals in her hand as if they’d personally aggrieved her. Of course she would fall for the one person she can’t have. Someone who holds no love for her in their heart. 

A fitting end for cruel, cold Jane Murdstone. Dying unwanted and unloved, just as she’d always been. In her weakest moments she allows herself to succumb to her longing for you, imaginary scenarios running through her head of the two of you, happy - of a world where you love her and where she isn’t faced with her impending demise.

As she thinks of you, she begins to cough again. It hurts, as if thick, thorny vines are encircling her lungs, tightening in a vice-like grip with each passing day. The petals come out in a steady stream - they feel like shards of glass, cutting at her throat from the inside. A metallic taste fills her mouth and, as she looks down at the heap of tiny, snowy petals, she sees droplets of blood staining them red.

Jane hides the petals in the drawer of her nightstand, each new petal accompanying the last. She feels silly doing so - shameful even - and it places a heavy burden on her heart that weighs her down like lead. But if no one finds the petals - at least not while she is still alive - then she doesn’t have to bare her shame, her cowardice, for the world to see - for you to see.

And she vows never to let you see her like this - you must never find out. She cannot bear to witness the concern in your eyes when she feels unwell - it causes her great guilt, to think she may be a source of worry or pain in your life. She also cannot bear the thought of your disgust at her unrequited and entirely unwanted feelings towards you. Even if it means she must be cruel to you. Even if it means she must ignore your attempts to reach out, or channel her fear into rage. Even if it means she may never see you again.

There is a surgical procedure, she recalls, to rid oneself of Hanahaki Disease - with the price of ridding oneself entirely of the feelings causing the disease. Jane considers it, but she knows that in order to get treatment, she would have to admit to her unrequited feelings, in front of her brother, no less. The thought is humiliating. And there is a weight on her chest when she thinks of forgetting her love for you - something that, despite being the reason for her dismal state, has brought her a joyful reprieve from the dull ache of her general contempt for everyday life.

So she shuts you out. She shuts everyone out. She will die alone, and spare herself the inevitable heartbreak and humiliation. It is the only way. 

~~~

You are woken early in the morning - earlier than usual - by a persistent knocking at the door to your chambers. For a moment you think you’ve overslept, but you quickly realize that isn’t the case. You blink the sleep out of your eyes and comb through your hair with your fingers to make yourself more presentable, then pad over to the door and open it. There’s Emily again, a grave expression on her face that makes your stomach twist and causes you to lose any sense of formality.

“What is it, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Miss Murdstone, she’s not well. Mr. Murdstone has requested your company at her bedside immediately.”

Your heart sinks and it feels as though ice is sluicing through your veins.

“T-thank you. I will be right there.”

Emily nods and bids you farewell, and you rush about your chambers to get dressed for the day - you doubt Jane would appreciate you giving up all sense of propriety and turning up in your night clothes. You pull your hair back, pinning it haphazardly in place before starting off towards Jane’s chambers, your walk turning into a jog turning into a run. You catch your breath at her door before knocking. 

Once.

Twice.

There’s no answer.

“Milady? I’m coming in,” you call, trying (and failing) to control the tremble in your voice.

Entering her chambers, your eyes fall to the bed and you realize why you hadn’t received an answer. Jane lies on her back, eyes closed, cheeks sunken in. She looks like she has lost quite a bit of weight, surely a product of her missing meals for the past weeks. She is deathly pale and as you approach her with caution, you see the sheen of sweat on her brow. Her dark, matted locks spill over the pillow and stick to the perspiration on her neck.

“Milady? How are you feeling?” You drag the stool from her vanity to the bedside and settle down timidly, eyes raking over her weak form.

Her pale eyelashes flutter against her cheeks - you can tell she’s trying to open her eyes. Even in this state, gaunt and sickly, she looks hauntingly beautiful to you, so much so that it claws at your heart.

A cough racks her body, her shoulders shaking violently, her chest heaving. Her head lolls to the side and her mouth falls open as she coughs up a steady stream of small, white phlox petals.

You freeze when you see the petals. At first, horror washes over you at the sight of her gagging, at the deep red blood accompanying the petals. A slow understanding spreads throughout your entire body. Hanahaki Disease. 

You’d had a cousin die from the disease when you were a child - you curse yourself for not recognizing the signs. There’s a pit forming in your stomach.

So Jane Murdstone has fallen in love. 

Tears well up in your eyes and your heart clenches painfully. Jane has fallen in love - and she will die because of it.

She will die, leaving you alone and in search of new employment. She will die, not knowing the affection you hold for her in your heart. She will die, and you will have to go on without the sparkle of her eyes holding you captive whenever you catch her gaze, without the soft, melodic lilt of her voice brightening your dullest days.

You’ll miss her terribly (you already do). You like her, you really do… no, that isn’t quite right - you love her. The realization hits you like a train. You love Jane Murdstone, and it doesn’t matter.

You reach out tentatively and place your hand on top of Jane’s, squeezing gently. It’s the least you can do, to reassure her that you’ll be there for her when no one else seems to be. You shiver at the contact with her skin - it is quite cold in contrast to the warmth of your own, and this is more than you’ve ever dared touch her.

With your other hand you brush away some stray petals that stick to the blood on Jane’s cheek. There’s blood trickling out of her mouth and you swipe your thumb firmly down to her jaw, wiping it away as best you can. She should go out with dignity, you think. 

“Milady, can you hear me?” you ask quietly. You don’t receive a response. 

“Who is it?” You ask the question more for yourself than for her, you know she’s too weak to speak and you aren’t even sure she can hear you anyway. A single tear rolls down your cheek - you wipe it away with your sleeve. Your throat constricts, but there is something you want to say - you clear it roughly. When you speak, your voice has a pleading edge to it, desperation oozing out of your every pore.

“I love you, Jane. Please don’t leave me.” Any other day, you’d be afraid of being fired on the spot - for speaking out of turn, for voicing forbidden affections towards your employer, for addressing her by her first name. Today, you suppose, it doesn’t matter anymore. You feel lighter having said it - and heavier knowing it may be the last thing you ever say to her. Now that it doesn’t matter any longer, you lean over Jane’s face and press your lips firmly to her forehead. Perhaps this way she can feel she is loved, even if it’s not in the way - not by whom - she needs.

x

shout-out to @dianneking for being the catalyst to me writing this hehe <3 plus, gonna just tag everyone who has had the (dis)pleasure of me pestering them about this for the past month haha (love u): @yourlocaldisneyvillain @anti-bright-places @eveymay @scream-queenlover @orchidsshine @sapphicsbeloved @mrs-hilmarson 

[cookiesupplier]

Every Rose Has Its Thorns - Part Thirty-Four

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc x Chris 'Motionless' Cerulli

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, online bullying, panic attacks, stalking, mental health issues.

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. For everyone involved.

author’s note: Unbeta'd, readers beware as always lol.

To read from the beginning, check out the Masterlist Here!

tags: @tearfallpixie @cncohshit @jordynyingling0219 @faceless-mirror @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @wild-child-7747 @witchyweeb34 @black-damask1999 @jilliemiw86 @ilovesamkiszka @lyschko666 @lacktoesandtoddlerants @bngurngheart @collapsedglasshouses @laurpartyprogram @sunsshinesunny @malerieee @talialovesmiw @shilohrosechicken @thatchickwiththecamera @tamtam-elizabeth

Tag List is Open, please let me know if you would like to be added to it or in general.

Between the morning at the doctors for Chris, and then spending all the afternoon talking and dealing with the emotional revelations that were coming about from these tattoos. Something that none of them really could have fathomed how they would change their lives. How they might still. Talia wasn’t sure if she wanted to think about it. She was still just a visitor here. Sooner or later, she should go home. Right? She needed to, that was where her life was, wasn’t it? Her job, her friends, some of them, anyway, could she really abandon them? Talia was only supposed to be here to support Ava with her bond with Vinny, and even then, she still wasn’t sure how much she’d done that at all. Did Ava even need her, it felt like everything was the other way around.

Not to mention, that reason, that was when she knew Ricky wanted nothing to do with her. Sure, it was nice that at least that had changed, he seemed to at least want to be friends even if he didn’t want a relationship. He still hasn’t said anything about that changing, and she wasn’t about to make an assumption just because he had been more friendly towards her. These tattoos forcing them closer together wasn’t his fault any more than hers, and she wasn’t going to assume he felt anything for her. The worst part, as much as she still wanted to hate him just a little, for the things he’d done to her before, she kept seeing the glimpses of how wonderful he could be too. It was just, it… he… he was making it impossible not fall in to want more.

He didn’t want more, though, and she had to remind herself of that.

Then there was Chris. 

Was it right, to have the feelings she did?

What was happening with this tattoo that was changing on his shoulder? The way it was reacting the same way Ricky’s and hers were reacting was, it was, she wasn’t going to say it was obvious, because she had a feeling that Ricky was right. The sensations were subjective. They couldn’t know what they meant, what they were supposed to mean. A bad feeling could be anger, upset, jealousy, or even fear. Who could say what emotion was causing them at any time. Some they thought were obvious, such as when Chris had kissed her, or when Ricky had touched her tattoo. Both times their tattoos had gone absolutely crazy. 

Even then, for all she knew Chris’ tattoo would change back, for all they knew it was just, temporary. Whether for Chris, or for one of them? They should wait to hear from the people he was going to talk to before she let her mind spiral down that path about what his tattoo changing meant, for any of them. 

How could they even know if any of their feelings were real, and not from these tattoos pushing them closer. Or, were the tattoos the way they were because of their feelings? How could they possibly know? That in itself was the biggest problem with the phenomenon of the soulmate tattoos, and everything being theoretical.

That was what terrified her. 

She couldn’t have certainty, and after her time in that hospital, spending those moments when she started questioning herself, she didn’t need to feel that way again.

Swallowing, she shook her head, no, not again.

“Guys, I should probably go. Ava is probably wondering where I am.”

Ricky looked over at Chris, for some reason, something about the way she’d been looking while they’d been chatting just now made him wary about her leaving on her own, was that wrong? Was it him being an asshole? Chris help him here. They’d been looking over the photos of Chris soulmate tattoo, making out the shadow of the mark and seeing if they could figure out what it was changing into. Sure, Ricky could say exactly what he thought it was turning into, it looked like it might be, but there was still too much of Chris old mark blurring the detail to be able to tell for certain. When it got darker, and the mark more visible, separated from Chris former tattoo, maybe.

“Are you sure? You could stay for dinner, Chris makes a mean vegan chilli, it’s actually fantastic, and I’m not always big on the vegan dishes. Stay, Sweetheart, I don’t think any of us have had a night in a little bit that we haven’t had something to worry about.”

Well, they sort of still did have worries, but, as much as they could, they could at least try to relax, couldn’t they?

“Let us make you dinner, Chris can make his chilli, and I’ll make,”

Ricky paused, pressing his tongue behind his teeth slightly as he considered. With the way now, that Chris was looking at him expectantly, he had this little knowing smile on his face, as if he just knew Ricky was about to try to bullshit his way out of something. Damn him. 

“Dessert.”

There, he didn’t have to give a specific answer, yet, right?

“What’s going to be for dessert, Rick?”

Drawing his eyes back over to Chris, Ricky, give him a look, really, really, Chris?

All he got back for the expression was a wide cheeky knowing grin, and a raised eyebrow, smart arse. Turning his focus back to Talia, Ricky smiled, ignoring his smart arse best friend.

“Chris will make chilli, I’ll make dessert,”

“Which hopefully won’t kill us-”

“It will be fine!”

The fact that she started laughing at that Ricky was going to count as a win, no matter how much Chris had decided to be a comedian at his expense right then. Absolutely worth it.

“Now I have to say yes, just to see what Ricky makes, but, Rick, what ever it is, has to be made with whatever is already here. Though, if Chris has to leave to get something for the chilli, then I guess you can give him a list of ingredients to pick up while he’s out.”

Ricky blinked at her for a moment, Talia just smiling at him, he turned his head to look back at Chris, he held his hands up.

“I had nothing to do with this, don’t look at me.”

“So this is a challenge now?”

“Absolutely.”

Talia grinned, he was the one that was putting it out there, she was just making it a little more interesting.

“That is, unless you’re not up for it?”

Oh, he couldn’t have that.

“You’re on.”

Chris had chuckled as Talia, and he watched as Ricky got up from the couch and marched his way into the kitchen and started going through his pantry, his fridge. Mumbling to himself while he did. Probably considering all the different things he could make no doubt. Chris doubted this was going to end well. Next Ricky was scrolling on his phone, Chris tried to peek over his shoulder, only for Ricky to notice and make a disgruntled sound and shove him back, Talia giggling in response at his antics, Chris just rolled his eyes.

“You got ten minutes before I go out to get what I need for dinner, since there are things I need, had I known you wanted chilli yesterday..”

“Well it doesn’t have to be chilli..”

Chris shook his head as he looked over at Talia, smiling softly,

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s easy, and I love making it, it’s one of my favourites, and I know Ricky likes it.. And don’t worry, it's pretty mild, I don’t amp it up until I feel like going really crazy, and that is not going to be tonight.”

He was in no mood to test limits with everything that had been happening around them. 

“That sounds perfect Chris, thank you, though now I’m wondering what the amped up version is like.”

Chris offered her a wicked grin at that, laughing, considering the last time he made the intense version of the chilli and how that had gone down,

“Well, I won’t try to sway you with my opinion, others though, I’ve been told it burns off taste buds.”

Watching her expression freeze in place, her eyes going wide slightly.”

“Here! He’s also not wrong.”

Ricky had walked over to them, brandishing a slip of paper at Chris with a few items scribbled on it for him to get from the store that he didn’t already have in the house. He had no doubt that whatever Ricky was preparing to make was vegan, he knew how it went, or at least, he could make a vegan version for him.

“I’ve tried the amped version, if you don’t love spicy, and value your life, don’t do it.”

It was actually Ricky’s fault he made the stronger spiced version in the first place. Chris might never have gone to such extremes if he hadn’t taunted him about vegan food being bland and tasteless, despite him claiming to never really being one to enjoy eating it anyway. This was back when Chris was still learning more about cooking vegan foods, because it was really sink or swim when you were vegan, you either learned to cook it yourself, or struggled like hell half the time. Ricky, had been his chilli taste tester, and boy did he regret it for a time when it came to the spicier version… Suffer that he did.

“Serves you right, telling me vegan food was bland.”

That earned him a giggle out of Talia, he had a feeling she got the picture on how exactly that all went down from that alone. Ricky just rolled his eyes at him.

“Hey, you still can make a kick ass chilli now, can’t you? When you aren’t trying to kill me with it.”

Fair point.

This time when they were sitting around the dining table, Ricky would definitely say that it was far more relaxed despite the day that they had all had. Somehow they seemed to had let that go, Ricky grinned as he watched Chris and Talia tease each other across the table. Chris seemed to have more control over the effect of his tattoo’s reaction to being closer to Talia still. Ricky figured it was either because his tattoo wasn’t fully formed, or just that he had more self-control, he didn’t know. Ricky, chose to stay on the other side of the table for all of their peace of mind.

Maybe it was just him. Possibly Chris felt it all too, he just could handle it better. The fact was that every time Ricky touched Talia he was right back to those moments when they were alone. The way their tattoos flared up, and they were almost crippling with the need for release. He’d been in the middle of mixing the batter for his dessert to put in the oven, reaching across the counter. All she’d done was put her hand out in front of him at a certain angle and all three of them had felt it. Ricky had grabbed the edge of the bench, gasping for breath.. Not Talia.. He stopped himself.. He had enough control to do that, without Chris saying a damn thing, and Talia had excused herself as well. 

A splash of cold water, and they all calmed down.

Now though, with their dinner finished, Ricky lifted his glass of water to his lips to take a sip, Talia was looking across the table.

“Is something burning?”

“Oh shit, the dessert!”

Ricky couldn’t run back to the kitchen fast enough, the sound of the other two laughing was his backing track.

Talia sat at the table with Chris, laughing, she couldn’t help herself, it might be mean, okay, it was a lot more than just might be mean. She saw first hand how much work that Ricky had put in trying to get that dessert right. She’d watched him. Checking, double-checking, triple checking that list on his phone as he mixed the list of the brownie batter he’d been baking for them. They were supposed to be some fudgey amazing delights, and he had sounded so proud when he slid the tray in the oven that he’d gotten the batter just as the description had said it should be. Smiling, she had hoped that it would work out just as it should.

Everything seemed to be going to plan, just as it should.. Until they were eating dinner, and Chris caught the smell of something burning in the kitchen. She didn’t know what went wrong, whether he had set the timer wrong,

“Rick, do you need any help?”

She bit her lip as glanced over to Chris when he called out to Ricky after they heard a bit of clatter followed by a very colourful string of curses from the kitchen. Only for them to earn a shout back at them.

“DO NOT COME IN HERE!”

This of course had them pearling into more laughter, leaning into Chris’ upper arm as so she didn’t just slide right out of her chair as she laughed.

“Rick, you did set the timer, right?”

The groan that came from the kitchen in responses did not help her stop laughing at all,

“Of course, I set a damn timer!”

The grumbling that followed, she couldn’t make out, but she grinned, moving to get up from her chair only to have him should out again,

“I said don’t come in! I have a backup dessert, you stay out there! Both of you!”

“Okay, okay!”

Grinning over to Chris as he agreed and they both sat back down at the table. Twenty minutes later, Ricky was bringing out a tray of roughly decorated chocolate dipped strawberries. Of all the things she had thought he would make, she would never have thought he would make something that most people would assume to see as something so, romantic. Talia felt her face flush warmed at the very thought.

She cleared her throat seeing Ricky bite into one of the strawberries, with that knowing grin of his as if he knew exactly where her mind was going. Quickly she glanced over at Chris, and with the smirk as he licked his lips from a smear of chocolate on them, he was no better.

“You alright there, Sweetheart?”

Clearing her throat quickly, Talia picked up one of the strawberries,

“Just, just fine.”

Taking a quick bite of the chocolate dipped fruit, it wasn’t her tattoo tingling that was the problem, as she pressed her thighs together to attempt to stifle the feelings coursing through her body. Talia had no clue who they were for, because the thought of both the men at the table sent shivers through her.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[just-a-carrot]

I’ve been sick for the past week or so (to which my partner got sick immediately after me) and me and them are orly coded and I am a multishipper before I am a human being so I love the idea of iggy taking care of orlam when he’s sick so much :,)

nothing crazy, just some upper respiratory virus he got from work bc it was that time of the year again at that point

normally orlam would be pretty pissed due to Not Being On The Grind but despite the fact he’s coughing like a dying victorian child, has used up 3 boxes of tissues that DAY blowing his nose (the trash can has been overfilled for the past two hours), and the fact he hasn’t been able to feel his legs for the past 3 hours, he’s pretty content simply because of the case of Pretty Boy Has Been Feeding Him Soup And Medicine All Day

he probably coughs and gives a weak smile like he’s dying in a hospital bed (he’s not)(he’ll be fine in a few days) as iggy brings in more meds and hot chicken noodle soup. “My angel…he’s returned to heal me…” like he’s so CORNY

iggy blushes a tad at being called orlam’s angel (he really doesn’t think he’s doing much? just helping the man he loves when he’s sick). “haha, yeah…” says iggy as if he didn’t just nearly burn the soup on the stove and take their whole apartment with it (their microwave has been busted for like a week and iggy’s ass has been suffering bc it’s usually orlam who cooks but obviously orlam CAN’T rn 😭😭😭)

they do that corny cheeseball thing where iggy stays with orlam in bed while orlam rests and gets Adequate Sleep and in turn, iggy gets sick as well, so it’s orlam’s turn to take care of him (which orlam is INSANELY EXTRA ABOUT BTW. bro gets a dehumidifier, candles, draws iggy a warm bath when the chills set in, orders hot soup from a rlly good place he knows iggy likes nearby and pets iggy’s hair while feeding it to him, always keeps the TV in their room on so netflix shows that iggy likes can always be playing like BRO YOU JUST GOT BETTER CHILL ‼️‼️‼️)(orlam brewbacher when he’s given another chance to spoil the love of his life)

they’re so silly I love orly so much :3 🦅🦅🦅

ohhhhhhh this is soooooo sweet... 🥺💕

i'm such a sucker for the "taking care of sick" trope as it is i will admit alkdjfas so this is extremely cute to me...

i love the dichotomy here. like iggy just desperately trying his best and hoping he's doing it right but anxious he could mess up and orlam will be horrendously offended (and/or die because iggy couldn't take care of him well enough LOL) so is constantly asking for orlam's approval or if he needs anything

whereas orlam is just like completely smooth and suave about it and handles little every tiny little thing and takes complete control and acts like he's done this 50 thousand times hahaha

this is incredibly sweet i love it 💕