#truth and identity and guilt
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picnokinesis · 2 years ago
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anything about pirate au you feel like talking about today? 🏴‍☠️ I don't have a specific question I just saw that previous ask and was like 👀
HmmmmMMmmm
Mkay so - oh goodness wait I was gonna talk about a particularly dangerous pass in the north of the Terran Archipelago called Demon's Run that Thete sailed through one time in the height of a storm, and how she had Amy Pond as her sail master because she was the only one crazy enough to do it - and then I realised that most people don't even know the BASIC GEOGRAPHY of pirate au because I never posted the damn maps on this blog!! And DAMMIT WAIT you guys don't even know that pirate!13 is called Thete because I hadn't even DECIDED that when I wrote the oneshot O-O"
So. Right. For the uninitiated - we have Captain Thete Lungbarrow, a privateer. She's from a country in the far north called Gallifrey, which is an empire and at war with another empire ruled by it's neighbouring country, Dalerio. The Terran Archipelago is down in the south, and it's where Thete has lived the majority of her life because her family moved there when she was very young. She kind of considers herself more Terran than Gallifreyan, but that's a whole thing. Anyway the Terran Archipelago is ruled over by the Gallifreyan Empire. The Dalek Empire has Clom, a large island to the north east of the Archipelago, and want the country of Raxacorico too (which is directly north of the Archipelago) as well as the Terran islands, so there is a lot of disputed territory in the northern Terran islands. Which is where Demon's Run is.
So then you've got Thete, sailing through Demon's Run in this great storm with a skeleton crew and Amy as sail master, Jack Harkness as her quartermaster, through DISPUTED TERRITORY, just to help out a certain infamous thief called River Song, who screwed Thete over one time in a way that impressed her so much that she couldn't even be mad about it. And the legend goes that they got through that pass without a single scratch on the hull. This is because people saw Thete's ship, The Arcadia, a few days later in a nearby port, looking entirely undamaged. This is because they did NOT sail an entire tall ship through that pass. They took a smaller boat. And Jack will tell you - it DEFINITELY got a bit more than just scratched
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cluescorner · 7 months ago
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Arlecchino's whole deal is unbelievable
Arlecchino: Huh I wonder what's causing my weird powers? I can't really worry about that right now tho, I've gotta become King and then kill my "Mother".
*Kills Clervie and "Mother"*
Arlecchino: Huh I wonder why I was able to defeat a Fatui Harbinger when I'm like 17 or so? I can't really worry about that right now tho, I've gotta be in jail and become a Harbinger.
*Is in jail for a while and becomes a Harbinger*
Arlecchino: Huh I wonder why I am-
Pierro: Hey what's up hello, anyways you're descended from the Crimson Moon Dynasty of Khaenri'ah. I'm sure that this is a lot for you to take in so-
Arlecchino: Ok.
Pierro: ...You're just cool with that?
Arlecchino: IDK maybe? I can't really worry about that at the moment, I'm a father now. This orphanage full of children I love (who also are child soldiers and are not allowed to leave or else I'll execute them except maybe now I'm just gonna wipe their memories IDK I'm morally complex) isn't gonna run itself.
*Runs the orphanage/spy recruitment initiative*
Me, the fucking player: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ARE KHAENRI'AN? WHY WASN'T THIS BROUGHT UP IN YOUR FUCKING QUEST?? OR ANYTHING ELSE????
Arlecchino, talking to me through my phone: I honestly don't know why you care, I'm too busy to give a shit. Anyways, I'm gonna go fight fate itself I guess. I'm sure that I don't share any thematic parallels with any other Khaenri'an characters (particularly as it relates to acting and family angst) and that I haven't made the idea of 'curses' on Khaenri'ans and what they entail even more complicated than they already were. See ya.
#arlecchino#genshin impact#pierro#WHY IS THE GAME FUCKING GLOSSING OVER THE FACT THAT SHE IS KHAENRI'AN?!#Not only that but she is the first Khaenri'an we've met (that we know of) who's from the Crimson Moon Dynasty#I'm so fucking confused#Did Celestia place a DIFFERENT curse on members of the Crimson Moon Dynasty?? Or is this stuff all of them can do???#HELP#She also seems almost...uninterested in the fact that she's descended from Khaenri'ah. Which honestly I think is interesting.#I don't know if I like it yet but when every other Khaenri'ah character has one of their major traits being that they super fucking#care that they are Khaenri'an (whether that be Kaeya with his paranoia/destiny/duty or Dain with his guilt over his failure/desire to#prevent our sibling from fucking with anything too much or whatever the fuck is going on with Pierro)#having a character who is Khaenri'an but doesn't seem to particularly be invested in that part of themself is different#she cares more about the curse and its effects on her then she ever really cares about the Crimson Moon Dynasty or the cataclysm#IDK I think it's neat from a character writing angle. or at least it has the potential to be if the writers do a good job.#But from a 'I like maybe 3 things in this game and one of them is Khaenri'ah' perspective it SUCKSSSSS#That part of the plot is already suffering from chronic live-service storytelling disease where people just straight up don't tell you#shit that they logically SHOULD BE TELLING YOU because the game needs to save plot points to build hype around#so for one of like 4-ish (depending on how much we count Albedo) Khaenri'an major characters to give us literally 1 and 1/2 voicelines#kinda sucks ngl. but again it's also interesting and realistic for Arlecchino and from that angle I like it#she doesn't care about what fate says her place in the world is. she's gonna carve her own and being Khaenri'an isn't relevant to#the life and identity she has built for herself. she isn't the type to look for answers she doesn't need. she's practical and efficient.#at the very least it's better than when Albedo 'I want to find all the world's truths' Kreideprinz doesn't let the audience in on his stuff
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rawliverandgoronspice · 9 months ago
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not dipping back there again after this, but my opinion on where the discourse re: us politics is heading is not getting any nicer.
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nomairuins · 3 months ago
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the difficulty of trying 2 explain to ppl that im Not being self deprecating or belittling my mental illnesses when i say something that could be perceived as overly critical towards myself but that thise things actually r true abt me. ppl did die.
#i wrote a whole post trying to explain and then i realized it judt wasnt particularly worth it so i out it in the drafts. so i wrote for#like 20 minutes and all i got is soooo insanely dissociated . can we kill connor im sick of this fucking guy#idk. i wish often incould just project my brain on a wall or sometjing abd ppl would get it and i wouldnt have to explain it#bc everytjing i say even when it sounds crazy or it sounds oike im habing a breakdown its like. its how it actually is its the truth but#nobody ever fucking understands bc i cant. word it in a way that makes it make sense to people#like my most prominent 'delusion' i cant fucking explain it to people bc theyre like Woah thats rly rly rly concerning and sounds like its#rly harmful for yourself to believe that but it literally isnt I have to believe it bc its one of the only things that actually is keeping#me alive but if i ever fucking talk abt it nobody understands it#sometimes it is very scary and it makes me miserable that its true but i know that it is true. ive woken up in terror crying abt it Multiple#times but ik that its true and its a good thing its true bc it means i am alive roght now. as alive as i always am at least#but wtvr. the post wasnt even originally abt that#it was abt dropout stuff and like. yk. bc when i say I dropped out bc i was lazy and whiny ppl think im being mean 2 myself and erasing like#the depression and the ptsd and the Identity shit and the dissociation and the panic attacks and the seizures and grief and stuff#but its like. yes all that also was going on but i also was just lazy. if i wasnt lazy i couldve judt fucking graduated and i wouldnt be#trapped now#<- That is only true for me . ik thats like a stupid thing to say but this is why i cant rlt Be honest abt how i feel abt myself dropping#out is bc i get horrific fucking guilt bc i Was judt lazy and fucking stupid and i Am a bad person for not graduating hs#but that is not true for other dropouts for other dropouts deopping out doesnt mean youre dumb or lazy and it doesnt make you a bad person#but its different for me ik everybody thinks theyre the exception but i am i Am just lazy i am just stupid and its my fault. specifically.#idk i need to go lke slam my head into a wall.#idk what happened i wasnt fucking doing bad and then i made like. a loghthearted post abt sometjing and derailed in the tags and now its#oh i remembered. i tried to sign up for a ged class and encountered 1 obstacle and fucking gave up . God. i loterally havent changed at all#we neeedddd to get rid of connor or at least get a bew one in so fucking sick of being rhe one im so sick of being Connor i dont want it#anymore . head on pike#idk. im fine. im just habing a momey. im.probably judt pissy bc i didnt sleep. maybe ill take an edible
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starsinthesky5 · 9 days ago
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trick or treat* || joe burrow x reader
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description: he was always Mr. Anti Halloween, but for you? for you, he'd do anything. even if that meant overcoming his childhood hatred for the holiday :)
a/n: a little post halloween fic for you all! sorry this took me so long :) it wasn't planned at all so I hope it's good and not all over the place!!
thank you @joeyb1989 for some inspo ;)
warnings:, language, smut, fluff
word count: 11.7 k
tag list (comment to be added!): @joeyfranchise @joeyb1989 @joeys-babe @softburrow @burrowbarbie @yelenasbraid
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"Baby, pleaseeeee," Joe whined as he hid his face in your neck, pulling the hood of his onesie even lower to hide his face simultaneously. "Please don't make me go out there," he murmured, his words soft and pleading while his warm breath caressed your skin.
"Joey, it's gonna be okay," you giggled, rubbing gentle circles along his back, your hand sinking into the soft, fluffy fabric of the blue stitch onesie he was sporting tonight.
He pouted, snaking his arms around your waist in a playful attempt to anchor himself, preventing you from dragging him out the door. “I don’t wanna go,” he mumbled into the soft fabric of your matching pink stitch onesie. “I really don’t wanna go, baby. I’ll do anything if you let us stay inside tonight. I’ll make you a three-course meal, give you a full body massage, paint your nails--anything you want. I’ll even let you be on top more ‘cause I know how much you love it. That all sounds nice, right? Right?”. His voice was a mix of begging and teasing, you couldn’t help but giggle at the lengths he was willing to go to avoid the Halloween festivities. 
"Joey, I love you and appreciate your will to negotiate, but I’m not changing my mind,” you chuckled, swaying his body back and forth.
“B- But whyyy?” he mumbled against your neck, his incredibly delicate voice making you melt in his arms. Every word he whispered tugged at your heartstrings, and all you wanted was to go back to bed and snuggle his adorable self till he couldn't breathe. “Do you hate me or something?”
“How dare you accuse me of such a thing,” you dramatically gasped, stopping your soothing movements to add to the theatrical effect. "I'm app-", giggle, "appalled that you even considered such horrid thoughts," you said, trying to stifle your laughter and remain serious but failing miserably.
“...Am I accusing you or is it just the truth?” he moped, twisting his head in your neck so that he could look into your eyes with his wide baby blues.  
A pang of guilt pulled at you for pushing him into it, but you knew without it, he'd never agree. “I love you, and that’s why I’m making us go trick-or-treating tonight. You deserve to experience Halloween the right way, and I’m gonna make it happen this year,”. 
Tonight was your favorite night of the year and Joe’s least favorite night of the year, All Hallow’s Eve. To you, Halloween was a night filled with magic and mischief, a time to dive into the world of costumes, mysterious identities, and bags upon bags of candy. In years past, you'd normally find yourself getting absolutely trashed at some Halloweekend party with your friends, but in recent years you opted for more tamer celebrations. Part of the reason was that you didn't really enjoy getting blackout drunk anymore and left that behind in your college days, but another reason was because of your lovely boyfriend who preferred to spend every October 31st acting like it wasn't October 31st. To Joe, Halloween was a “stupid holiday”, an excuse for people to put on facades they’d never wear any other day. He didn’t see the point in what you were celebrating, and the whole thing seemed meaningless to him. That hurt your soul a little, knowing how much you loved Halloween and everything that came along with it. But when you found out the real reason behind his hesitation--the things he kept tucked away, the bits that made him see the holiday differently--your perspective shifted.
Even growing up, Joe wasn’t the biggest fan of the holiday. He loved the idea of dressing up in his little costumes, always excited to transform into a superhero or a silly cartoon character. But when it was time to step out onto the chilly, leaf-strewn streets, baby joey would hide. He couldn’t get himself to walk up to the door and mumble, “Trick or Treat”. He would hide, burying himself in his parents’ legs or peeking nervously from the porch to see if the bowl of candy was left out. The idea of knocking on doors and making small talk with strangers was all so overwhelming for him and that stuck with him a little even in adulthood. The spooky masks, the dark skies, and the anxiety of talking to strangers soured his feelings towards the holiday and Halloween quickly became something he’d rather skip. You understood that it wasn't just about the costumes and candy for him and that understanding made you want to help him create new, happier memories in place of the old.
But you really didn't have to push all that hard because every year, he still indulged in parts of the spooky holiday for you--at least the parts that he approved. Each year, he’d help you hang up the orange and purple lights, the flying witch decorations, and even the faux cobwebs across the shrubs outside. He’d grumble a little at the mess and the spooky faces staring back at him from the yard, but when he’d see the happiness in your eyes, every bit of effort felt worth it. Seeing you happy made Halloween just a little more bearable--and maybe, just maybe, even enjoyable.
You somehow made it more comforting for him, and even though he gave you the same speech every year about how pointless it all was, you’d eventually find him nose-deep in a bag of candy, a tell-tale smudge of chocolate on his lip betraying his facade.
Sometimes, he’d even cave and watch a Halloween movie with you, despite his irrational fear of anything remotely horror-related. But getting him there was never easy. He was, without a doubt, the most stubborn person you knew so it always took endless pleading, a little bribery, and maybe a few strategically placed kisses to get him to soften up. Soon after, he’d sink in next to you, arms crossed and pretending not to flinch at every jump scare. Or, he'd end up pulling the blanket high enough to cover his face if he wasn't already hiding it in the crook of your neck.
Flashback to a few weeks ago
“Babe, I’m not watching that,” he huffed, crossing his arms and clenching his jaw in opposition as you scrolled through the list of movies on the TV. 
“Baby, Scream isn’t even scary! It’s just a slasher film,” you said while turning to look at him, your bottom lip stuck out as you tried to use your usual irresistible pout to convince him to watch your all-time favorite scary movie with you. 
That pout did wonders for you when it came to Joe. It was your way of getting him to do all the things he'd normally resist--watching a scary movie, going out when he'd rather stay in, trying that new cafe you'd been raving about. Every time, he'd try to hold out, but one look at your face and his front would crumble. It would be replaced with a soft smile that he reserved just for you, just for his girl.
You watched as he sighed, his eyes flicking to your pout and back. His lips curled into a sweet smile and his eyes softened; he was getting lost in your charm and it was working.
Oh yes.
But the pout that usually always works in your favor, failed you this time and he quickly went back to his resolve without even flinching. “Put the pout away, babe. I’m not watching that,” he shook his head. “You look adorable, but it’s not going to work this time,” he added as his thumb traced slowly along your plump bottom lip. His hand lingered near your face and even in his most stubborn moments, he couldn't hide how much he adored you.
You blinked at him for a few silent moments before fully losing it, “But whyyyyy,” you whined, throwing your head back against the couch headrest, then shifting your head to look at him. “I promise it’s not scary! And I’m right here if you do get scared. You can squeeze my hand, bury your face in my neck, use me as a stress ball,”. 
"Thanks, Y/N, but it’s still a hard no," he chuckled at your attempt to persuade him. "I refuse to watch people get gutted by some psycho in a ghost mask. The whole concept of the movie is just dumb, anyway. I mean, why not just move towns or states? Why not just buy a gun? Or wait, even better. Just don’t pick up the fucking phone and talk to a stranger,” he giggled as you glared at him.
He leaned in, deepening his voice, and asked, "What's your favorite scary movie?" in his best Ghostface voice. “Like, come on! Just hang up, block the number, call 911, and get the hell outta dodge,”
You shifted away from him, your jaw falling open, truly offended by his disregard for the masterpiece that the original Scream was. After seeing your demeanor, he only laughed harder. “Oh, stop. You know I’m right. It’s probably the same with every horror movie. They just love to make the main characters dumber than a rock and then make them act surprised that a psycho with a knife is knocking at their door,”. 
“You know,” you interjected, giving him a playful side-eye. “You seem to know an awful lot about scary movie plots for a guy who refuses to watch a single one with his lovely girlfriend--the same girlfriend he adores, is utterly obsessed with, and would do annnnnnything to make happy,” you lean into the sarcasm, but laced it with enough sweetness to test his stubbornness, hoping it would make him cave. "You do like to make her happy, right? I bet that you watching Scream with her would make her soooo happy," you added, placing a hand on his thigh and giving him a gentle squeeze.
Joe smirked to himself before he leaned in, his lips grazing against the corner of your ear. “You gotta do better than that, baby,” he whispered, his breath hot and voice raspy. He was enjoying your attempt to sway him. The playful challenge in his eyes told you he wasn’t giving in that easily, but he loved every second of it. 
"Oh, come ON," you thought to yourself, realizing this would be much harder than you thought.
"What if I make you Pumpkin Pie after?" you asked him while flashing him a bright smile. Pleading wasn't working, so it was time for you to call in the big guns: bribery. God bless your ability to pivot without breaking a sweat, you could practically already see his determination crumbling as a hint of temptation flickered in his eyes. You were close to winning him over.
Yes. YES.
Joe pursed his lips, pretending to be deeply thinking about your offer before he opened his mouth after his dramatic pause, "Mmmm, nope," he shook his head, trying to keep a straight face.
You groaned, throwing your head back against the couch headrest again, then dropping your head to his shoulder where he moved his hand to cradle your face. He dropped a quick kiss to your forehead, unable to hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he enjoyed every second of your struggle. "Damn, you suck at this," he teased, his voice full of affection.
"What if I bake it naked. Only in an apron?" you offered, glancing up at him and knowing that he wouldn't be able to resist such a tempting offer.
Whenever you stepped into that kitchen to bake him something, it was like a switch flipped inside Joe. He became impossibly handsy, his self-control being thrown out the window the second he saw you in that baby pink apron, hair tied in a messy bun, and arms coated in flour. What takes 2 hours to bake, takes 4 when he's in there with you. You get so distracted by his slow neck kisses, his hands sliding over the curves of your hips, and the alluring words he whispered in your ear. By the end, flour would be everywhere. On the counter, on your clothes, even in his hair. He was always so proud of the mess you'd both made, and you didn't mind it one bit.
So, being naked--basically bare--while making him his second favorite sweet treat? Well, that was basically an open invitation for Joe to indulge in his first favorite sweet treat. You.
He definitely wouldn't be able to resist this.
"It'll be just you and me," you mumble, leaning your head forward so that your lips are sliding across his tan neck, his hand moving to grip your thigh as he instinctively pulls you closer. "In that big kitchen," you say as you drop a wet kiss on his sweet spot. "Allll alone," another kiss to his skin, this time along his jawline. "For as long as you want...".
His eyes widened for a split second before he let out a low, conquered groan, trying to fight back a grin at the same time. "You...are impossible," he muttered, shaking his head as he pulled you in even closer, your legs now curled up in his lap and his hand rubbing your calf.
"And you are always DTF," you giggled, taking note of his handsy-ness already beginning hours in advance due to the mere mention of baking a pie for him with no clothes on.
"...Mmph, alright, you win," he sighed, giving in to your wishes at last. "But that pie better be worth it or else I'm taking all this Halloween shit down," he warned while motioning to the few decorations around the living room.
"If the pie isn't worth it, I'll be sure to make something else worth it," you winked, your implied suggestion causing his cheeks to turn pink as you reached for the remote and clicked on Scream.
End of Flashback
Over the years, you'd managed to get your boyfriend to warm up to Halloween bit by bit. He'd sit through a few "scary" movies and even helped you decorate the house despite his complaining and groaning. But there was still one Halloween tradition you hadn't been able to get him to embrace: trick-or-treating.
That part of Halloween still brought back his old discomfort. Every year you'd try to get him to hand out candy with you, but he always refused and said he had to watch game tape in his office. You'd ask if he wanted to walk around the neighborhood and watch the kids trick-or-treat, but instead, he'd suggest you two go out to eat. Then you'd get a little bold and ask him if he wanted to go trick-or-treating together, and Joe would look at you like you had three heads.
Nothing ever worked--not the pout, the pleading, the bribery, or even your sweetest kisses. Trick-or-treating was the one Halloween tradition Joe just couldn’t get behind, no matter how much you tried. But this year, you decided to approach it differently.
You didn’t ask him to go. You simply told him you were going trick-or-treating together and made it nearly impossible for him to refuse.
You’d spent weeks planning, finding the perfect couple’s costumes, and dropping hints about how fun it would be. Every time he tried to fight it, you’d meet his eyes with that knowing smile, as if you could already picture the two of you walking hand in hand down the leaf-strewn streets. You weren’t giving him a way out this time. And deep down, a part of him knew he was going to give in--not because you’d worn him down, but because he loved seeing you happy.
Flashback to two nights ago
"Okay. I have three costume options," you smiled, holding up three shopping bags in front of him. Joe sat on the edge of the bed, looking a little frazzled, his expression already showing his hesitation.
"Wait...three?" he asked, eyeing the bags like they were bombs that were seconds away from exploding
"Mhm!" you grinned, pulling the bags closer. "You're going to pick the perfect couple's costume, I just know it,".
"Me? I told you, Y/N. I'm not going," he shook his head. "We do this dance every year and I don't know why you keep trying,".
Your shoulders dropped a little at his usual negative mindset towards Halloween, and you softened as you met his eyes again, "I keep trying because..." you hesitated, giving him a warm smile, "I want to make you have happy memories about this holiday, Joey,".
He blinked, surprised by the sincerity in your voice. Normally you'd be playful and silly when you talked about this, but this time you weren't and that set off the alarm in Joe's head.
“I want you to experience it the way you were meant to as a kid,” you continued, dropping the bags and walking over to sit beside him. “I want you to have the same silly experiences I did, so that one day,” you took his hand in yours, squeezing gently, “We can let our kids experience it the way we did. You deserve to feel the excitement of getting dressed up, the thrill you get once you count up the amount of candy you get at the end of the night, and the warm feeling the day after when you get to stuff your face with candy for breakfast. I know Halloween wasn’t your favorite back then, but I’m here now. We can make it ours. We can make better memories,".
"I know it's silly, I mean it is just a holiday. But I want you to experience it all, you know? And it'll be fun because I'm doing it with you," you added, your voice laced with sincerity.
Joe looked down at your hands, your words sinking in, and when he looked up, there was a warmth in his eye that hadn't been there before. Halloween might not have been his favorite holiday. But for you? He'd make it one he loved. He saw how much it meant to you, and he noticed how over the years you'd been changing his experiences with the holiday step by step despite his stubbornness. You never gave up on him, and that's why he loved you. That's why he was willing to do whatever it took to make you smile.
With a small grin, he eventually sighed, “Alright. Show me those costumes,”.
Your face lit up instantly, "Really?" you gasped, gripping his bicep in response.
"Don't make me change my mind," he said after dropping his head, although he couldn't help a smile from appearing on his face at the sound of your newfound excitement.
"I love you, Joseph Lee Burrow," you grinned, pressing a quick kiss to his soft cheek before jumping off the bed and grabbing the bags.
"I love you too, Y/N Y/LN," he chuckled.
He did, he really really loved you. He was willing to do anything to make you happy, to make his girl, his lady, happy. And who knows, maybe you were right? Maybe he would have a happy memory of Halloween after doing this with you tonight.
You picked up the first bag, quickly taking out the first set of matching costumes. "Okay, okay, hear me out--matching blue and pink stitch onesies. They're comfy and simple, and I think you'll look very adorable walking around in this,".
Joe raised an eyebrow, a smile creeping onto his face. "Comfy, huh? That's a plus, for sure".
You grinned, pulling out the next costume. "Option Two, Joker and Harley Quinn,".
"Oh?" he said, his tone laced with surprise as he saw your Harley Quinn costume or the lack thereof. "I don't know how I feel about you walking around in those shorts, babe,".
"I knew you were going to say that," you sighed. "But I still bought it anyway because you'd look so sexy with this Joker outfit and makeup on,".
Joe felt a blush creeping up on his face as he chuckled, "We can do that...but only for our eyes only. Your birthdays coming up, right? Consider me dressing up as The Joker one of your gifts," he winked.
"Noted," you said, your voice barely above a whisper as heat pooled in your stomach at his innuendo. You then pulled out the final option, trying to calm yourself as you showed him. "Last one, which is a classic. Pirates!" you grinned.
Joe looked carefully for a moment, peeking at each costume before finally meeting your gaze. It didn't take long for him to decide which one he liked best, “You know,” he said, a grin breaking through, “I think I’m gonna go with the stitch onesie,".
You raised an eyebrow in surprise at how fast he picked a costume, especially because he picked the one you didn't think he would pick. “Really? Why’s that?”
“Because,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief, “It’s super comfy, and you know how much I love aliens. Plus,” he added, leaning in closer, “It’ll be easy to take off of you later when we get into bed,”
Your cheeks flushed at the playful implication, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, stitch it is! But you have to promise we’ll take cute photos," you said, you were really just happy that he agreed to go and pick a costume without getting into a pillow fight with you.
“Deal,” Joe said, reaching out and gripping your waist firmly, pulling you close, and planting a quick kiss on your belly before resting his cheek against it while you raked your fingers through his soft hair. Halloween might not have been his favorite holiday, but with you by his side, he was ready to make it a night to remember--one cozy moment at a time.
"I love you," he mumbled against you before pressing another kiss to your belly.
"I love you too, my anti-halloween cuddle baby," you giggled, pressing a kiss to his hair.
End of flashback
You thought you had gotten him to fully embrace tonight, especially since he willingly put on his blue stitch onesie, but with the way he was clinging to you right now...he was definitely still struggling to let himself open up to it.
"What if they start laughing at me? I'm Joe Burrow, 27-year-old QB of the Cincinnati Bengals. I shouldn't be out trick-or-treating," he whined, hiding his face in your neck again.
"They won't laugh, Joey," you softly laughed.
"How do you know?".
"Because. You're Joe Burrow, 27-year-old QB of the Cincinnati Bengals," you grinned, gently shuffling both of you over to the foyer table where your candy bags were placed. "Man, you're big," you mumbled, slightly struggling to move because you had your 215-pound teddy bear attached to you.
He chuckled lightly, his breath warm against your skin. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. I thought you liked big boys,”.
"I do. Only you though. The rest are scaryyyy," you smiled, finally reaching the table.
"And I'm not?" he questioned, his voice laced with playfulness and flirtatious energy.
"Nope," you said while grabbing the bags. "You're my big, gigantic, muscular, adorable cuddle baby whom I never want to let go of" you softened.
"Hm, I think I prefer that over a scary football player," he chuckled.
Joe lost that tough, hard-headed QB persona when it was just the two of you. He was a total softie with you, revealing a side that few got to see. He would lean in closer during the quiet moments, dropping his guard as he shared little secrets and dreams with you, his deep voice softening to a whisper just for you. It was in these moments that you could see the real Joe. A man who cherished the little things, from the warmth of your hands to the laughter you shared over inside jokes. Each cuddle, each tender kiss that lingered a second longer, each time he pulled you into his tight embrace, he was just Joey. The boy who adored you more than life itself. Under the star athlete was someone who thrived on love, warmth, and connection.
"Good," you giggled, "Because me too. Anyway, it's just our neighborhood. Everyone knows we live here so I'm sure you'll just get a few 'hey joe!' screams and an occasional request for a photo,".
Joe lifted his head out of your neck, still looking a bit unsure for a few moments which prompted you to speak up. "I promise it'll be fun, Joey. I'm right there with you," you smiled, your hand sliding up and down the sides of his torso and your nails lightly scratching him through the fabric of his onesie. "Do it for me? Please?".
You saw a little shift in his baby blue eyes, relaxation and love flooded them. "Anything for her," he told himself. "Come on, Joe. Grow up,".
He took another deep breath before speaking up, "...Okay, but if someone asks me to do the Heisman pose in a Stitch onesie, I’m not doing it,".
You broke out in a fit of laughter at the mental image of him doing so and dropped your head onto his chest as your body shook from emotion. "D- Deal," you laughed, your heart swelling at how willing he was to step out of his comfort zone for you.
You felt him press a warm kiss to your forehead, his hand then moving to cup the nape of your neck and angle your face up. He leaned down, gently pressing his lips against yours, the feeling of your lips connecting sending shivers down your spine.
His hands slid down to your waist, his thumbs tracing slow, deliberate circles as he pulled you closer. His cold nose brushed against yours as he met your lips in a deep, sluggish, sloppy kiss. Each gentle nip and pull sent warmth throughout your body, and his soft rhythm made you melt into him. Just as you began to lose yourself in the kiss, he pulled back slightly, "Alright, let's do this," he said against your lips. "But you better keep me entertained, or I'm pulling the 'famous quarterback' card,".
"Interesting words coming from the same guy who hates unnecessary attention," you said while raising an eyebrow, stepping back from Joe's embrace to straighten out your outfit.
"Hey, it's my get-out-of-jail-free card," he retorted. "If they start laughing or I get bored, I'll remind everyone that I'm a professional athlete. That'll get them to one, stop laughing because I'll say 'excuse me, ma'am, but do you really want to laugh at Joe Burrow, the Cincinnati Bengals' golden boy?' and two, entertain my football star side for a few short seconds before I get irritated by the camera flashes," he said while striking a mock pose, puffing out his chest and flexing his arms dramatically.
"Ohhh yeah," you giggled, "Because nothing screams 'intimidating' like a guy in a stitch onesie flexing his muscles,".
“Exactly, babe,” he replied, laughing along with you. “I mean, who wouldn’t want a picture with the cuddly, buff quarterback? Just look at me, who could say no?” He glanced down at his plush costume, pretending to look serious.
"Careful, Joey B. You might even start a trend," you said while raising your hands. "The soft, cuddly, buff quarterback. It could be your new brand,".
"I can get behind that," he cutely nodded. "Maybe I'll wear this at the press conference next week," he chucked, throwing his arm around your shoulder and leading you both to the front door.
"Ohhh, I would love to see the reactions from the guys and the media if you pulled up like this," you smiled as you rested your head on his shoulder.
"I would never hear the end of it. The guys still give me shit for the hickey I walked in with the day after my birthday last year," he sighed.
"I'm still not sorry for that," you shrugged. "Gotta let everyone know that you're mine," you nodded as he opened the front door for you.
"No need to be sorry, babe. You made your mark on me, a golden tattoo. I can't hate on that," he smiled, helping you onto the front step while he followed and closed the door behind him.
A smirk rose on your face, "Good. Because if you do good tonight, maybe you'll get a few more golden tattoos," you quickly mumbled, hopping down the steps of your house.
"Wait, what?" Joe asked, raising his eyebrows at what he thinks he heard you say.
Your cheeks turned a deeper shade of maroon before you glanced back at him, "Ohhh, nothing," you smiled. "C'mon," you motioned for him to follow, "We have doors to knock on,".
-- -- --
"Okay, Joey. First house," you smiled, placing your hand around his bicep and giving it a reassuring squeeze. You both were standing at the doorstep of a house that was a few streets down from yours, the decorations in the front yard caught your eye and you just knew this was the first place to start. There was an elaborate setup of skeletons cobwebs, and glowing pumpkins that lit up the yard with a spooky charm.
Joe's eyes darted from the decorations to the door, and you could feel the tension in his muscles under your hand. "Had to pick the spookiest house first, didn't you?" he murmured, glancing down at you with a hint of hesitation.
"You got this, babe," you nudged playfully, leaning over to kiss his cheek as you doubled down on your confidence in him.
He took a deep breath, straightening his posture as his brows furrowed in determination. "Okay, here goes," he breathed out, lifting his hand, pausing for a second as he shot you one last look--almost making sure you were still with him--before he finally pressed the doorbell. There was nothing to be scared or shy of. You were right there with him, he had no reason to hide behind someone because he had his safety blanket right next to him. His sweetheart, his lovely girlfriend, his Y/N.
A few seconds later, the door swung open to reveal a middle-aged woman, her face lighting up as her eyes fell on you both. But when her eyes landed on Joe, standing there in a stitch onesie, she let out a surprised laugh.
He nervously cleared his throat before saying, "Trick or treat!" his voice was steady but laced with a bit of shyness that only you could catch.
"Oh, my goodness!" she bounced with excitement. "I never thought I'd see the day! Joe Burrow? Trick or Treating on my porch! And in such an adorable costume?" she cooed.
You couldn’t help the proud grin that spread across your face as you squeezed his arm again, leaning in to whisper, "See? You’re already a hit,".
"She's not wrong! This costume is perfect for you," the lady nodded. "You two look so adorable!".
Joe laughed, scratching the back of his neck, "Yeah, well...I have my Halloween coach to thank for that," he said, nodding at you with an appreciative smile.
"You give me too much credit," you giggled. "Not everyone can pull off a stitch onesie at 27 years old,".
He looked down at you again, his lips curved into a soft smile. But then he noticed your gaze shift down to his bag, which was still closed tight in his hand. You gave him a playful look, raising an eyebrow as if you were saying, "C'mon, Joey. Open it up,".
He realized what you meant with your stare, "Oh," he mumbled, quickly tugging the bag open and holding it out just like a kid who finally got the Halloween memo.
He watched as the woman dug her hand deep into the bowl of candy and placed a generous handful inside his spooky, SpongeBob-themed candy bag. Joe looked down at it with a mix of amusement and disbelief on his face, clearly not used to this happening to him. You couldn't help but melt at how surreal it must have felt for him--27-year-old Joe Burrow, the star QB, standing on a stranger's doorstep with a trick-or-treat bag in hand, experiencing the magic of Halloween the right way for the first time.
"Happy Halloween!" she chirped, giving him a little wink before turning to you and adding, "And you two make the cutest couple! Who Dey!".
Joe's ears turned a light shade of pink as he mumbled a polite, "Thank You,", trying to hide his emotions as best he could. That wasn't as bad as he thought it was, that was actually...fun? There were no awkward words exchanged between him and the stranger, no intimidating vibes, just sweet candy and even sweeter words.
And he had gotten a huge, seemingly above-normal fistful of candy too? Talk about Quarterback perks...
"What is this?" he thought, confused by what just happened as his hand instinctively gripped yours while you waved goodbye and walked away from the house.
You couldn't help your smile from growing wider when you both were back on the sidewalk. "He did it. He really did it," you thought to yourself, your heart swelling in return. "He did it for me,".
You stopped him in his tracks and turned to face him. "What's wrong?" he asked, confused at why you suddenly stopped him and at your wide-eyed look.
A squeal left your lips as you looped your arms around his neck and jumped into him. "You did ittttt!" you cheered, pressing about a dozen kisses to his soft, rosy cheek. "I'm so proud of you, Joe!".
Joe's face softened, a smile creeping up as he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close. "You're really that proud of me?" he asked, amused and bashful.
"Are you joking?" you beamed, pulling back just enough to look at him through both your stitch hoods. "You faced your Halloween fears for me. That's huge, Joe,".
"Yeah...I guess I did," he tilted his head and replied, sounding a little surprised himself.
"Ahhhh," you squealed again as you went back into the bear hug you were giving him. "This is so exciting for me, you have no clue,".
He laughed, "Oh, I think I have some idea. You've been on me for doing this for yeaaars. I'm glad you never gave up, though,".
"I'll never give up when it comes to you," you smiled before leaning up and capturing his lips in a warm kiss. "Ooo," you said as you quickly pulled away, "What candy did you get?" you asked as you felt the presence of his candy bag below you
Joe chuckled softly, still relishing in the warmth of your quick kiss. “Let’s see,” he said, searching through his candy bag with exaggerated seriousness as if it were a treasure chest. “Looks like I’ve got some Snickers, a few Reese’s, and--,” he paused for dramatic effect, pulling out a tiny packet, “Starburst!”.
Joe and his Starbursts. An inseparable duo.
"Ohh, here we go," you laughed, watching as he dropped his bag on the ground and quickly started ripping open the packet to see what flavors he got.
A gasp left his lips, "Orange! Y/N, I got double orange!" he smiled, his voice so light and playful because he had just got his favorite flavor. He was legit a kid right now in every way possible, from the costume to the smile, and to the air around him.
"Joe, it's just orange," you teased, smiling wide as you enjoyed this playful side to him.
He shot you a glare, "Just orange? This is the best damn flavor," he said, tossing a piece into his mouth with a proud grin. "I know you love pink, but that is not orange. You're missing out," he said while pointing at you as if he was giving you a lecture.
"Maybe we can do a flavor swap later?" you winked, your suggestive comment earning a grin from him.
"Deal," he chuckled as he picked up his bag again to see what else he got.
You watched as he searched through the candies, an adorable grin on his face, crinkles around his eyes, and a shimmer in his baby blues. Joe was so happy, so smiley, and this was just the first house out of many. You could only imagine how he would be by the end of the night. "Let's keep going," he smiled, a feeling of excitement starting to bubble underneath his skin.
You let him lead you, warmth filling your chest as he glanced back at you, his excitement spreading through his fingertips and straight into your body. Joe’s hand squeezed yours, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how he practically skipped down the sidewalk. His usual calm, collected self had completely melted away, replaced by a boyish joy that made your heart swell.
When you reached the next house, he gave you a playful look. "Alright, what do you think this one’s giving out? Full-size? Think we’ll get lucky?".
You shrugged, playing along, “Only one way to find out. Go on, brave QB. Knock and conquer,".
"You don't want to come up with me?" he asked with a playful pout.
You smiled, "You're a big boy, QB1. You've got this".
"Alright, alright. But if I get nervous, you'll be my backup, right?" he asked, glancing back at the house. He wasn't having a hard time talking to strangers this time around, which was different than when he was a kid. Normally, he wouldn't be able to put his finger on what made him break a childhood habit, but this time it was easy for him to know because of the feeling he had in his heart.
It was because of you.
Being with you calmed Joe in a way that nothing else could. Your calm presence was like the first, refreshing sip of ice water after a brutal run on a hot day. As you stood by his side tonight, he felt your cool confidence seep into him, melting away any of his nerves.
With you there, he found himself speaking more easily, making small talk without hesitation, and even standing on doorsteps without any fear. You had a remarkable effect on Joe, and he knew damn well without you, he wouldn't be able to do a lot of things, including this.
"Forever and Always," you promised, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go.
He straightened up, took a breath, and headed up the path on his own, a new confidence in his stride. Watching him, you couldn’t help but smile. He was loosening up, bit by bit, and you felt a thrill at the thought that he might actually be enjoying himself.
Joe knocked on the door, a bit of uncertainty clear via his body language. But when the door opened, he gave a smile so genuine that even the older couple answering couldn’t help but smile back, dropping another handful of treats into his bag as they made small talk with him.
You quickly pulled out your phone to record the sweet moment, wanting to capture Joe looking absolutely adorable and actively enjoying himself on Halloween in case someone doubted you when you told them. You had gotten him to soften up, and that was making this the best Halloween ever. You wanted to capture the memory and keep it forever.
As he headed down the steps, he looked at you with a glowing face. “You know what? I kinda get why you love this now. It’s just...fun,”.
You let out a dramatic gasp as he inched towards you, "Joe Burrow? Saying Halloween is fun? Oh my god? Have the aliens finally made landfall on Earth?".
"Very funny, Y/N," he playfully rolled his eyes.
"What'd you score this time?" you said while looping your arm with his.
"Full-sized, baby," he said in mock triumph. "Snickers, a big bag of Sour-Patch, and even another Starburst packet,". The glimmer in his eyes was undeniable, he was genuinely enjoying himself and the smile on his face was only growing wider. There were no complaints from him, no signs of anxiety, just pure enjoyment. "They even said I looked cute in this and said I've been playing like the MVP recently," he blushed.
"Aw, that's sweet," you replied, squeezing his hand as you continued walking down the street, seeing all the little kids in their adorable costumes wandering the roads. You even think you saw a kid dressed up as Joe, football jersey and all.
He let go of your hand so that he could put his arm around your waist, "They even said something about you," he winked.
"Oh? What'd they say?" you asked, snaking your arm around his waist.
"That I struck gold with youuuu," he teased, bumping his head with yours. "They go to a bunch of games and have seats by our sidelines and see you and me before every game doing our little handshake and watching you give me that pre-game pep talk. They said that the way I look at you, and only you, during that time is only something that comes around every few lifetimes,".
Your eyes widened in surprise, "Wait, seriously? People notice that?".
They weren't wrong there, though. The way Joe looked at you during his sideline time was something that was so special, so rare. He had the weight of the world on his shoulders at that time, but all that vanished once his eyes locked in on yours. You were his comfort, his calm within the storm. Whether that's on the field, or even right now as you two were partaking in Halloween festivities that he was normally against. You made it all better with your smile, with your reassuring words, with your gentle touch. He adored you.
Joe chuckled, nodding, "Yeah, apparently it's their favorite part of the game. They said, 'Man, if that's not love, I don't know what is',". He pulled you a little closer, "Guess I struck gold,".
Your heart exploded as you nestled closer to him, "Well, they're not wrong," you mumbled. "But, I think I'm the lucky one because I get to watch you light up the field like you do,".
Joe leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your head, his voice warm as he murmured, “Guess we're both pretty lucky. But I'm definitely the luckier one because I have the most dedicated, relentless--in the best way--adorable, thoughtful, beautiful, and insanely hot woman by my side,".
His words were tender, each one a gentle caress that wrapped around your heart. They held a deep meaning that made you feel adored in a way only he could make you feel. You looked up at him, eyes sparkling with love, a smile tugging at your lips. "You know, you make it really hard not to fall for you all over again," you whispered, your voice catching as you reached up to trace your fingers along his jawline.
"Baby, I fall for you all over again every single morning I wake up to your beautiful face," he said, his fingers brushing against your cheek. "And I love you a million times more. Thank you for taking me out tonight even though I was being a whiny ass. I'm realizing what I've been missing out on," he said, looking across the street to where a little boy was calling his name, giving him a wave and smile in return. "And I'm definitely realizing it's a lot more fun with you, by my side".
"Well, I'm having the best Halloween ever if that means anything," you smiled, watching as he waved to the little kids who were starting to notice that they were trick-or-treating with Joe Burrow.
Joe pulled you even closer before planting a quick kiss on your forehead again, "Me too, and it's all thanks to you,".
Joe saw that satisfied grin on your face and felt his heart swell. You were happy. Knowing that he had a part in that made him feel like he was on Cloud 9. "I think I like seeing you like this more than I like watching the other team go 3 and out during a game," he said with a silly grin.
"You're just saying that just to say it," you shook your head as you two strolled down the sidewalk.
"Nope. I'd wear this every Halloween if it meant I could see you smile like this. You look like you're about to explode from excitement," he laughed.
"Well, I think I might. My mission was accomplished. You're enjoying Halloween," you said while letting go of him, moving so that you two were face to face. You grabbed his hand and started to walk backward down the sidewalk, leading him along with you. "We're healing your inner child, one 'trick or treat' at a time,".
"You know, you might be right?" he shook his head in disbelief. "Just don't tell my mom because I think she'll actually freak if we tell her you got me to trick or treat since she tried soooo hard when I was little to get me out here,".
You let out a loud laugh, "It'll be our secret,".
"Good, because I wouldn't do this for anyone else. Just you," he said, giving you a heated look, his icy eyes sending shivers down your spine. The playfulness in his voice was replaced with heat, and you weren't sure what made him do such a 360 all of a sudden.
"Woahhh, slow down with those bedroom eyes. We still have a few more houses to hit up," you giggled.
"Sorry," he shook his head, snapping out of his daze. "I just remembered how easy it is to take a onesie off and got excited,".
"Like I said, you're always DTF," you smiled, turning back around and pulling him down the sidewalk with you.
"Only for you though," he smiled, innocently tapping your ass which caused a gasp to leave your lips.
"Joseph Lee! There are children around!" you shrieked, looking back at him with wide eyes as your cheeks flushed with surprise and embarrassment.
"What? It was just a little tap," he shrugged. "Besides, we're allowed to have some fun, right? It is Halloween,".
"You're unbelievable, you know that?" you said, trying to hide your laughter.
"But you love it," he said, leaning closer as he winked at you, his confidence shining through. "And I think the kids are too focused on their candy to notice what I'm doing,".
You looked around, watching as the kids ran past you both with their candy hauls in hand, realizing he was right. "Okay, but still. You better keep your hands to yourself unless you want the whole neighborhood to see your stitch onesie getting stripped off,".
"Relaaax, baby. It won't happen again, at least not until we're somewhere a little more...private," he said, tapping your ass again but before you could say something, he ran in front of you to escape your anger.
"Oh hell no," you shook your head, watching as he ran backward, his tongue sticking out at you in mockery as he sported a cocky grin.
"Catch me if you can!" he yelled, his laughter echoing as he picked up speed.
"He's such a kid," you whispered to yourself, "You're going to regret that!" you shouted back, your competitive spirit breaking free as you took off after him.
He really was a full-blown kid tonight, and it was all thanks to you. You got him to loosen up, to laugh a little harder, and to enjoy something he had grown to hate. Each doorbell you rang seemed to chip away at the walls he had built around Halloween, and the joy in his eyes was heartwarming.
You ran down the sidewalk, chasing after him as best as you could, but Joe being the sneaky athletic man he is, was just too fast for your pace. "He chooses the wrong time to show that he has wheels," you thought to yourself. Before you knew it, he had led you down a dark backroad and was nowhere in sight. You were far from your familiar neighborhood streets, the spooky decorations and orange lights now a blur in the background as you were now standing on an eerily quiet street. The shadowy road sent a shiver down your arm, "Joe?" you called out, your voice echoing in the quiet environment.
You got no response.
You bit your lip, gripping your bag a little tighter as you stay alert, turning your head to check if he was near you. "Joe? This isn't funny! I swear to God," you said, swallowing hard. The usual sounds of forest critters were oddly silent, providing no comfort to you at the moment.
"Did he even come down here? Maybe I wasn't paying too much attention to which way he went," you muttered to yourself, slowly beginning to walk up the road and back to where you came from. "But then where did he go?".
"Joe? I'm serious," you yelled out again, your voice laced with frustration and nervousness. This was the exact kind of thing he would do to spook you, so maybe that's what he was doing.
Before you could call out again, you heard a faint sound--like a crunch of leaves under a foot.
You didn't turn around to see what it was, instead, you stopped walking and froze, your bottom lip starting to tremble as fear crept into your mind.
There was nothing down here. And by nothing, you mean nothing. Not a single house, not a single car, and not a single soul. Just trees, a road, and a distant view of your neighborhood.
So who was behind you?
You didn't want to turn around to see who it was out of fear. It could be Joe, but it also could be some psycho in a ghost mask with a knife, waiting to stab you to death. "Oh shut up, Y/N. Scream is a movie. A MOVIE." you lectured yourself, mentally slapping yourself for sounding like Joe.
You shook your head to push away the uncomfortable feeling creeping up your spine. You quickened your pace as you walked towards the familiar shapes of the neighborhood. Each hasty step made your heart pound louder in your chest, drowning out your breath. Behind you, the sounds grew louder as you heard the rustling leaves and the faint crunch of footsteps on gravel--each noise sent a rush of anxiety through you.
"Absolutely not. I'm not dying before I witness a Bengals Super Bowl win," you mumbled to yourself before you reached up to pull your hood down, then kicked back and started bolting up the road.
"Come on, come on," you muttered, your breath hitching as you heard the distance between you and whatever was behind you shrink.
But then, your heart stopped as two strong hands gripped your waist and pulled you back, your back bumping into something solid and hard. "AHHHH!" you shrieked. "Please don't kill me! I swear, I didn't do any- anything," you screamed while feeling tears in your eyes.
And then you heard it, a laugh. Deep, unmistakable, and...familiar.
"Scared you, didn't I?" Joe rasped in your ear, his arms tightening around your waist.
Your heart was still pounding from the rush, "Joe!" you shouted, giving him a halfhearted shove and releasing yourself from his arms. "That wasn't funny! I thought you were some...masked psycho about to murder me,".
He reached out, placing his hands on your shoulders while stabling himself, "And this- And this is why you shouldn't watch Scream," he panted, catching his breath, the laughter still lingering in his eyes.
"Fuck you," you panted, coming from a place of playfulness and fun.
Joe's hands slid down to your waist, pulling you into him with one swift movement, "Aww, was my baby scared?" he pouted.
You stared into his eyes with irritation, "Yes." you muttered without hesitation.
"Aw, I'm sorry," he smiled, pushing your head into his chest as he swayed you back and forth, "But at least now we know how you'd last in a horror movie,".
You rolled your eyes before breaking out in a grin--you just couldn't help yourself, "Who knew Joey B was final girl material? I mean, look at those wheels," you teased.
"Damn right," he chuckled, then leaned down to place a kiss on your cheek. "I think you need to learn a few things from me. No way you should be that slow when your boyfriend is Joey Wheels,".
You let out an offended scoff before lightly slapping his chest, "I'm not that slow," you said.
"Mhmmm," he hummed, "Whatever helps you sleep at night,".
You shook your head before going back to his chest, "You're having one good Halloween and think you're the shit now, aren't you?".
"Precisely," he nodded, "But that's all you're doing, baby. You asked for this," he chuckled.
He did it to make you happy, which worked. And you did it to make him happy, which also worked. You two made amazing memories tonight, carefully uninstalling the bitter ones from his childhood and replacing them with happier ones. You loved to see him happy and carefree like this, you never wanted that smile to come off his face.
"Well, you scaring me is a good thing I guess. You're not the one scared anymore, I am," you smiled up at him. "Healing your inner child, one step at a time,".
-- -- --
A few hours later -- back at the house
"I didn't think that would be so fun," Joe said as he rummaged through his candy collection on the bed while you were in the bathroom, getting ready for bed. "You seriously have me questioning why I ever dreaded Halloween,".
You laughed from inside the bathroom, "It's because you didn't have me around to show you the ropes. I told you I'd change your mind!" you shouted just loud enough for him to hear you.
"My miracle worker," he chuckled, opening up a Snickers bar and taking a bite of the chocolatey treat.
Back in the bathroom, you were currently standing in front of the mirror, looking at the red, lacy lingerie that you had slipped on under your onesie before you left earlier. You knew that even though he'd complain about it, Joe would come through and make your wish come true. And in return, he deserved a treat when you both got back and you wanted to show him how much you appreciated him loosening up for you on a night that had never been his favorite.
He thought you were just in here, doing your skincare and slipping into your PJs, but instead, you were getting ready to give him the real treat he deserved. "He's going to love this," you smirked, pulling one of his old LSU shirts over your body along with your sleep shorts.
You grabbed one of Joe's favorite perfumes of yours, giving it a few spritzes around your body, before fluffing your hair, turning out the lights, and leaving the bathroom.
"Babe, you gotta try these watermelon sour patch kids," Joe said as he dug through the tiny packet and popped a few into his mouth.
You smiled at the sight before you--Joe sprawled out on the bed in just his boxers, looking effortlessly irresistible. His disheveled hair and relaxed posture were a stark contrast to the playful, innocent stitch he’d been just a few hours ago. It was like seeing two sides of him in one night, each one captivating in its own way.
"Insane duality as usual," you murmured, barely containing a grin as you took him in.
Once he heard you close the bathroom door, Joe's gaze tracked your every step as you walked back into the room, his eyes sparking with curiosity. He picked up on a subtle shift in your energy, the way your confidence was shining brighter than usual, making his smirk grow. He threw his half-finished candy onto the nightstand, leaning back against the soft headboard with his hands behind his head, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Hi," he smiled, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
You gave him a slow once over, taking note of every vein, every curve of his muscles, and especially that happy trail that led to one of your favorite things in the world. ""Hi," you said, giving him a devilish grin, your tone laced with heat. "Enjoy your candy?" you teased.
"Yeaahhh...," he trailed off, "You alright?" he asked a few seconds later once you stopped at the foot of the bed.
"Oh, I'm more than alright," you thought to yourself, clearing your throat and standing up straight. "Trick or Treat?" you smirked at him.
Joe raised an eyebrow at your question, especially because he could tell it was coming from a place of mischief. "What?" he asked.
"You heard me," you bit your lip and said. "Trick or Treat?".
Joe raised an eyebrow at your tone--it was light, a little heated, and incredibly playful. Was this going where he thought it was? "I think I’m going with treat,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower as he slowly leaned forward. “But I’m curious…just what kind of treat am I in for?”
"Hmmm, you know," you said while gazing deeply into his starry eyes, "The hot kind. The messy kind. The sexy kind,".
And as if on cue, you reached for the bottom of your shirt, quickly pulling the fabric up and over your head before throwing it at Joe's face, his eyes widening once he got a glimpse at the lacy red bra that covered the part of your body that Joe was insanely obsessed with. "Y/N..." he murmured, his heart skipping a beat once he saw you turn around so your back was facing him, your hair moving to the front which gave him the perfect view of the thin lace straps.
You pulled your shorts down, bending over so you could reach down to get them out of your feet and to also give Joe a generous view of your lace-covered ass.
"Fuck, baby," he groaned, the tent in his boxers growing at the sight of your toned, lace-covered body.
You flipped back around, watching as his hand absentmindedly inched closer to his erection, shifting it to feel momentary relief because of the way you were torturing him right now. You flashed him a playful grin before kneeling on the bed, your fingernails running up against his leg as you moved closer and closer to his torso.
"Baby, I-," he choked out as he felt your hand graze over his shaft.
"Shh, it's okay. Just lay back and relax. You earned this for doing good tonight. You did it for me, to see me happy, to see me smile. You had fun tonight and you did something out of your comfort zone, all for me. You deserve a treat for being so good to me, baby," you nodded, both your bodies now filled with heat and desire, the need to feel each other overpowering any other emotion.
You leaned down, your lips coming into contact with the fabric of his boxers as you pressed gentle kisses around his upper thighs. Joe tossed his head back at the sudden contact, and as your lips inched closer to his shaft, his body jerked while a string of sounds fell from his lips. "B- Baby, stop teasing," he mumbled, his hand stuffed into your hair as he lightly pulled on the strands. "I need y- you,".
You smirked at his faltering cockiness, then trailed your kisses up his body, following his happy trail. Your tongue glided along the curvature of each of his semi-visible abs, up to his pecs, and then to his neck.
You had shifted so that you were now comfortably seated in his lap, and Joe's hands were firmly placed on each side of your waist, slowly moving your hips back and forth against his shaft to feel relief.
You attached your lips to his neck, your goal was to leave as many golden tattoos as you could. "Mm, Y/N," he whimpered in your ear as he felt you suck harder on his favorite spot. "So good for me, baby," he sighed, his self-control being very close to being thrown out the window.
"I know," you smirked, moving to another spot on his neck to repeat the action. Your hand placed on his jaw as you moved his face to the side. Your tongue glided over the marks you left on his neck, a hiss coming from his lips at the slight burning sensation.
As the minutes passed by and you continued to tease him with your lips, he was getting more and more restless. And you could feel it. "Baby, please. I need to..I need to feel you around me," he whimpered again, pulling you out of his neck and meeting your firey eyes.
"Your wish is my command," you said, leaning in to capture his lips in a passionate kiss as you sat up on your knees, allowing him to pull down his boxers, his cock coming free and grazing against your thigh.
You leaned down to shift your lacy panties to the side, your wetness seeping through and dripping down onto Joe's lap, a throaty chuckle leaving his lips. "Even when you try to be in control, I still have you like this," he mumbled between the kiss as you grabbed his erection, using your thumb to spread the pre-cum along his slit before sliding it between your slick folds.
"We'll see," you smirked, sinking straight down onto his hard cock, a moan leaving his lips at the sudden contact.
"Y/N...," he moaned, his hands shifting down to grab your ass with a firm grip.
You placed your hands on his shoulders as you slid up and down his cock, your pace frantic and needy which matched the feeling you both shared in the moment. His head falls forward to rest on your shoulder, your hand inching into his hair as you pull him closer. His groans got louder, each one sending a jolt of pleasure throughout your body. "Yeah, you like that?" you whispered in his ear as you felt him buck into your core.
"Fuck, yeah," he moaned, his hands moving to grip your waist, the pads of his fingers digging deep into your skin. "Just like that, yeah,"
A shock of pleasure ripped through your veins, "You feel so good, Joey, sound so pretty for me," you moaned, feeling his tip hit your sweet spot as you leaned into him, his fully arms wrapping around your torso to steady you.
"My girl, you're doing so good, Y/N. I love...I love fucking you," he whimpered, his hips starting to snap up into yours in a way that drove you crazy. Each push of his cock into your wet heat felt like you were being brought into a new world; so intense and lively.
"Joey, ah," you moaned. "You're so...you make me feel so good," you moaned, feeling the way he gripped your hips and guided you back and forth on his cock.
You felt his hand inch up your back, his fingers finding the clasp of your lingerie top and undoing it in one easy motion. He quickly pulled the straps down, throwing the lacy piece across the room before attaching his lips to the skin of your breasts. "Oh," you whimpered, leaning back to give him enough room to work his magic on you.
"See?" he panted as he nipped at your skin. "This was for me, b- but, ah," he moaned once he felt you clench around him for a second, "I still have you like this,".
"You'll always have me like this, Joe," you whimpered, your legs starting to burn because of your movements. You threaded your fingers into his hair again, pulling him out of your chest and up to your lips, "Fuck, baby," you whined before he crashed his lips onto yours, his hips snapping up into yours even harder than before.
You picked up your movements as both your moans got louder and louder, the room now filled with sounds of skin hitting skin and your breathless whimpers. "Joe, I..I'm so close, mmph, fuck," you whined, dropping your head onto his chest as you slid up and down his shaft, your core starting to clench his cock more frequently.
"Shit, me too," he choked out, his breath hitting your ear as he melted into you with each rock of your hips and thrust of his thick cock. "I'm gonna cum, fuck...Y/N, I-," he said, getting quieter as he leaned into you more, his cock starting to twitch as he repeatedly slammed into your sweet spot.
You felt your eyes start to roll back, both your bodies moving at an uneven pace, "Cum for me, Joey. You did so good tonight, let it go," you whimpered in his ear.
"Oh, fuck," he hissed, "'Fuck, fuck. I f- forgot a condom, baby. W- where-,".
"In me," you moaned. "Cum in me, it's okay," you whined, your bundle of nerves begging for release as you felt Joe's cock thrust into your core with an intensity he could only display in front of you.
"Y/N," he whimpered, his cock stilling inside you after one final, rough thrust that caused your legs to shake. "Ahh, fuck," he hissed, throwing his head back against the headrest as his warm release filled your dripping core, the feeling of him filling you was something he could never get over. It made him feel so damn good, and you just loved to feel him inside you, any way shape, and form.
"Oh, fuck," you screamed, gripping his shoulders again as you guided yourself along his cock, "I- I'm-,".
"I've got you," he moaned, opening his eyes and briefly staring at the ceiling before looking back down at you and the way your lip was between your teeth, your eyes were screwed shut, and how your hair was sticking to your skin from the thin layer of sweat on your body.
He moved his hand down to your slick entrance, his thumb finding your clit, and all it took was a few seconds for you to come crashing down on his body. The expert movement of his skillful hands wasn't just useful on the football field. Hell, they might have been best used on you and not on the ball he throws every day. "Joe!" you screamed, falling into his chest as your core rhythmically clenched around his shaft, a wave of pleasure crashing over you while you felt your release drip onto his lap.
"God, I'm fucking obsessed with you," he mumbled as he peppered kisses around your neck, up your jaw, and to your mouth as you chanted his name over and over.
A few seconds later, you caught your breath, "Holy shit," you panted, your legs still shaking from your high as your body fell limp against his. "Fuck, that was...,".
He chuckled lowly, "Hot? Intense? Sweet?" his voice raspy in your ear as his hand slid up and down your back, tracing invisible shapes into your skin.
"Precisely," you giggled, pressing a kiss to his muscular chest. "Happy Halloween, babe. Hope you enjoyed your treat,".
He tilted your chin up, catching your gaze with that soft, unguarded look that always melted you. “Happy Halloween, baby. Thanks for tonight,” he whispered, brushing a kiss to your forehead before pulling you close again. As you snuggled against him, you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek. His hand slid up to cradle your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "You gave me the treat of a lifetime tonight. In more ways than just one," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I’ll never forget it,".
"I love you," you mumbled.
"I love you too," he smiled, dropping another kiss on your forehead before getting lost in your warmth.
"You know...since you're pretty comfortable with Halloween now...next year, we should throw our own Halloween Party at the house for everyone," you smiled against his chest.
Joe snapped his eyes open, "Woahh, baby steps," he laughed.
You couldn't help but smile, knowing just how far you'd come in the quest to make Mr. Anti-Halloween, Mr. Pro-Halloween. "Alright, alright," you teased, giving his chest a playful tap, "But we'll see what the future holds. Maybe you'll be the one planning it next year,".
His laughter vibrated through his chest, and he tightened his arms around you, his smile so soft and content. "You’ve already got me wrapped around your finger. I’ll do whatever you want, baby" he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.
"Good," you beamed. "I've already got your costume for next year in mind,".
"And what is it?" he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.
You bit your lip and hid your face in his chest again before saying, "I know you said for our eyes only...but...I wanna see you in it as many times as I can,".
"Nope," he shook his head, already knowing what you were going to say. "No way in hell,".
"Yessss," you giggled while patting his chest. "You'd look so fucking sexy, I think every girl in Ohio would drop to their knees,".
Joe playfully rolled his eyes, "You know what? Fine. I'll wear the Joker costume, but only on one condition," he said.
"Okay, I'm listening," you nodded, your excitement bubbling beneath your skin already.
He smirked as he leaned down to level his mouth with your ear, "We repeat what we just did, right now," he rasped. "Right now, maybe again tomorrow night, and after we do the whole 'our eyes only' thing, and maybe make it a Halloween tradition and do this all over again next year,".
You gently leaned up, pressing your lips to his before saying, "Deal, Joker," then feeling his hands wrap around your hips and flip you over on the bed.
--the end--
507 notes · View notes
honeekyuu · 2 months ago
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talk too much. [suna rintarou x reader]
ten. ruin
previous || masterlist || next
a/n. uhm....... yeah.
warnings: swearing, phone sex
✗ !!! minors do not interact !!! ✗
✗ !!! ignore timestamps !!! ✗
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“No you didn’t-”
“I did!” Suna laughs on the other end, and you giggle into your cup in response, brain fuzzy and warm. “I walked into a room full of fourth years and pulled out my canvas and when I looked up— boom. Naked ass man, dick in my face-”
“Stop!” you wheeze, shaking your head. “How the hell did you not realize-”
“I was nervous! I was so nervous to be there that I didn’t even realize I was in the wrong fucking room.”
“Did you leave?!”
“No! Of course I fucking didn’t!” You hear two sharp thuds on the other end and know just by the sound that Suna’s pounding his fist on the table. “I tunnel-visioned my way into a nude modeling class as a first year — you really think I had the courage to get up and leave after that?” 
You take a long sip of your mixed drink, leaning back against the arm of your couch and sighing deep after you swallow. “So? Then what happened?”
“Uh – I missed syllabus day of Art as Identity and drew a charcoal recreation of some random guy’s penis. Komori has it framed in his kitchen. It’s a talking point for guests and friends alike.” 
“I can’t believe you’re this much of an introvert,” you say, shaking your head with a giddy grin. “You’re so loud with me-”
“Okay, go ahead and add salt to the wound-” he barks sarcastically, snickering when you break into laughter. 
“You’re funny, Suna,” you say openly after a minute, sighing into the admission. “More people should know how funny you are.” 
“Just you’s enough, I think — and maybe your friends, just so they like me,” he responds, quiet filling the space between you for a moment. You chew on your lip while you think.
“What’d you think of them?” you whisper after a moment. “My friends.”
“Your friends?” he repeats, confusion seeping into his voice. “I mean, I always thought Suga was a weird dude, but he’s overall pretty chill and funny. Especially with Alisa – they fight a lot, don’t they?”
You smile fondly. “She likes to make him angry. He’s really easy to rile up.”
“Yeah, I could tell. They seem like good friends. I feel like I got to know you better by meeting them.”
You sigh quietly, the question burned into your mind starting to feel like guilt. You shouldn’t ask, because the truth is that your friends are the perfect friends. They’re both perfect, and you don’t know where you’d be without them. And you’re not in the habit of comparing yourself to your best friend, because you know she’d kill you for doing that.
But still, the question lingers.
“And… Alisa?” you ask, feeling the terrible guilt burn in your throat like bile. “What’d you think of her?” 
You can hear the wheels turning in Suna’s head, the silence on his end growing haunting as the seconds tick by.
“I think she’s beautiful,” he says, and – through the horrible, disappointed swooping in your gut – you realize that him being this honest even when he can tell what’s bothering you only makes you trust him more. He knows what you’re looking for, and he makes no move to sugarcoat his thoughts for you. Your respect for him grows. “But me acknowledging that she’s beautiful and me having feelings for you can both be true. Can’t they?”
You shut your eyes, sighing. You feel like an idiot. “Yes.”
“Just because your best friend is beautiful, that doesn’t mean you’re not.”
“I know.”
“I can think she’s beautiful and also think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen-”
“Oh, my God,” you laugh, embarrassed. “I get it, Suna. It was a stupid question.”
“Yeah, it was,” he says, and you can hear his smile. “Promise not to do it again?”
“No,” you mutter. He laughs.
“Okay. I can live with that.” You feel the conversation end there, and, despite the embarrassment, you feel glad that you asked. “I was thinking about something a minute ago actually,” he says, interrupting your thought. “You call me by my last name.” 
You quirk an eyebrow, the previous conversation forgotten, and purse your lips. “Is it not your name?” 
“Yeah, but…” He swallows audibly and then laughs to himself. “Your friends also call me Suna.”
You warm, seeing where this is going. “Would you rather me call you Rintarou?” His name feels foreign in your mouth, as if your tongue is just as nervous as you are, but you kind of like the taste of it.
His name feels important.
The other end of the line goes completely silent, long enough that you pull your phone away from your face to check that the call’s still connected. 
“Shit,” he breathes finally. “I dunno anymore. I was gonna suggest it, but I dunno if I can handle that, Y/n.”
Your name sounds important on his tongue, too.
Your chest starts to flutter with nerves, but the alcohol wants you to push it. “What about Rin?” It tastes intimate and presumptuous, that cut of his name from three syllables to one. You want him to taste it, too.
“Christ,” he laughs. “God, Y/n. You tryna kill me? You sent your friends to wound me critically and now this?”
“I think I like that one, actually,” you breathe. “Rin.”
“Stop it,” he laughs weakly.
“Rin.” You roll it around in your mouth, sinking deeper into your couch while you consider it.
“Cut it out,” he whispers, soft and breathy.
“Rinnie.” You like the way your lips wrap around it. You like the space it takes up and the way your voice cradles it, round and warm.
“Y/n.” His voice isn’t round and warm. It’s sharp. Thick with warning. Dragging your own name down your back like the back of a blade, leaving your skin pebbled with goosebumps and the base of your spine tugging at a knot under your navel dangerously. “Cut it out.”
You shiver and press your thighs together. “Okay,” you breathe, a soft whine coating the sound. The alcohol wants you to push your luck, and it’s so wonderfully easy to listen. “Sorry, Rinnie.”
“Shit,” he groans quietly. “Don’t do this to me, Y/n. Please.”
“Do what?”
“You know exactly fucking what.”
Your stomach flips at his tone, and there’s a pulse of desire between your thighs that has you biting down hard on your bottom lip. Your head is warm and staticky and desperately likes the sound of Suna’s voice, especially when he talks to you like that. 
“So?” you whisper, the courage there but incredibly small and entirely driven the liquor in your cup. “Are you hard?” 
Suna’s exhale is sharp, surprised. “W-What?” 
“You said over text.” Your face burns, but the idea of Suna Rintarou getting turned on by a combination of your voice and the way you say his name has you pushing out of your comfort zone. You want him too much. “That if I called you, you’d get hard. Are you?” 
He breathes hard for a beat, the sound shaky. And then he whispers, the sound soft and right in your ear in the most delicious way. 
“You know I am, pretty girl.” 
“How long?”
“Since you said my name.”
You shiver, pressing your thighs together hard. The flip of your nerves, low in your gut, is sharpened and heightened by the buzz of vodka in your veins, and you gasp quietly, trying to bring your heart rate back to normal.
“You should do something about that,” you whisper, skin vibrating when you do. You’d never be this confident sober.
He whines in response.
Suna Rintarou whines in your ear, desperate and impossible to deny. 
You feel your body become addicted to a man you’ve never met. 
“‘re you sure?” he breathes. “I don’t wanna do anything that you don’t-“
“Want you to do it,” you whisper, pulse racing and legs damn near going numb from how nervous you are. “Wanna hear you touch yourself.”
“Fuck,” he says, sharp and laced with frustration. “Fuck, Y/n — how am I supposed to say no to that?”
“You’re not,” you try. “Unless you really don’t want t-“
“I do. Fuck, I do.” He sounds the most sober he’s sounded all night, direct and honest and making your heart feel like it’s going to rip out of your chest. “Will-I…” You hear him swallow. “Will you do it, too? Are you turned on?” 
Your heart jumps into your throat, hope and desire mixing dangerously with the vodka. “Yes.” 
“What’s that an answer to?” he laughs, weak and nervous. 
“Both.” 
“Fuck,” he groans. “Will you? Want you to feel good, too.”
“Really?” Your voice sounds insecure, even in your own ears. You still aren’t used to that — to him. 
“Yes,” he urges. “God, yes. I want to make you feel good so badly, baby.” He swallows. “Can I talk to you? Make you feel good like that?” Your shaky exhale must speak for you, because he just gives another weak laugh. “Yeah? Is that okay?”
You’ve never been so full of want that it makes you cry, but you’re pretty damn close at this singular moment in time. 
“Okay,” you say, voice wavering. Suna’s exhale on the other line is just as shaky. 
“Okay,” he whispers back. “Shit-Uhm. C-Can I have a picture, baby? If that’s okay?” 
You whine in protest, already embarrassed, but you can hear how nervous he is. How unused to this he is. That this is just as terrifying and embarrassing for him, that he’s putting himself out there for you. 
It would be rude not to reciprocate. 
You take a steeling breath and pull the phone away from your face, setting it on the coffee table and putting it on speakerphone. “I look kind of messy,” you say. You start to adjust your clothes, grimacing at the frumpy shirt and shorts you’re wearing.
“I like messy,” he says, and you laugh pathetically. 
“It’s not very sexy.” You pull your hair down and ruffle it to be as attractive as possible, and then you consider your shorts for a full two seconds before throwing caution to the wind and getting rid of them. They land on the floor with an audible fwip, and Suna’s silent on the other end.
“Please tell me you didn’t just take all your clothes off,” he breathes finally. “I don’t know if I’m in a state to emotionally handle that right now.” 
You giggle, face burning and heart pounding in your ears as you open your camera and angle it favorably. ”Not all my clothes.”
“Shit.” 
You cross one arm over your torso and use it to push your breasts up, watching them swell in the camera. A rush of heat burns at your ears and neck, and your lip wobbles while you take the picture. 
Lifting the phone close, you examine the photo. You can see all the flaws that you’ve always seen, and it makes you freeze with insecurity. Makes you want to delete it and back out.
But then you hear him, his quiet ‘baby?’ on the other end, and you remember who you’re talking to. 
You hope he won’t see all the flaws you do — but there’s a piece of you that knows he will see them, but not as flaws. Because that’s who he is. 
Breath held tight in your lungs, you send off the photo, and then your head starts to pound with anxiety. 
Will he like it? Will he think it’s awkward? Will he realize that maybe he thinks you’re pretty, but he’s not sexually attracted to you the way he thought he would be—
“Oh, holy shit-” Suna’s voice is tight, thick with an emotion that’s so clearly lust that even you can’t deny it. ”Holy shit, Y/n. You’re so fucking-” He cuts off, taking a shuddering breath. “Fuck, I might start drooling.” 
You laugh, the tension breaking a little. “You’re funny-”
“I’m not joking.” Your breath catches at the sharp snap of his voice — your heart lurches, and desire swirls violently in your gut, because Suna Rintarou’s voice is starting to do that to you. “I’m not fucking joking, Y/n — you’re the sexiest girl I’ve ever seen.” 
You blink, sinking low on the couch. “What?” 
“Fuck,” he groans. “Y/n, you turn me on so much. I’m so fucking-” He laughs. “God, it’s embarrassing.” 
Your fingers shake as you press the phone desperately to your ear. “You’re so fucking what?” you ask meekly, nervous but craving more with every second that passes. 
He laughs again, self-deprecating. “I’m so fucking hard right now. Because of you. Because of this one photo.”
Your free hand drops between your thighs before you can think too long about it. “And you haven’t done anything about it yet?” 
“Oh, my God,” he groans, and you can hear the want in his voice. The strain in his tone as he tries to keep himself in line. “God, I’m not gonna last. I’m not gonna last with you, Y/n.” 
The pads of your fingers press to your clothed clit when he says your name — important, full — and it makes your desire curl and snap. You moan quietly, pursing your lips together to stop the sound — just a moment too late. 
“Fuuuck-” he says, reacting immediately to your voice. You hear shuffling, and then a burning, brutal exhale of relief, and you know he’s touching himself. The low whine trapped in his throat tells you as much. Tells you how badly he’s trying to keep his head on straight for you.  
You don’t want him to do that. You want him as lost as you are.
So you shut your eyes and lean your head back and let the alcohol take control. Let the fuzzy static in your head grow louder, let the desire throbbing in your core grow stronger. Let the choked whine in Suna’s throat take over, pulling you that much closer to the edge.
“Rin,” you breathe, yielding control to your limbs and smothering all hesitation in favor of slipping your hand past the band of your underwear. When your fingers touch down to your core, cold fingertips to searing hot skin, you moan louder. Loud enough to be heard and not caring enough to stop it. “Fuck, Rin— Can I have a picture, too?” He groans on the other line, shaky and uneven, and you whine in response. “Please? It’s only fair…”
He doesn’t say a single word back — just gives a trembling breath when you beg — but your phone buzzes against your face a moment later.
He’s got his hand down his sweats, the outline of his cock clear and the outline of his hand wrapped around it even clearer. His face is flushed a deep, searing red, and his parted lips are swollen and pink, eyes hooded with desire as he looks up into the camera. 
He’s in bed. He’s in bed, drunk and touching himself while thinking about you — the you in the photo, the you on your couch, touching yourself while you think about him, too. 
“Christ,” you whisper, eyes flying across the screen while your fingers dip low and slip with terrible ease past your entrance — two fingers in, the stretch heavenly, when your eyes land on the outline of his cock. “I don’t know if I can take you, Rinnie.” 
His inhale is shocked and laced with a moan, and then he’s coming undone in your ear. 
“You can take it, baby. I know you can take me so well.”
“Oh, God,” you gasp, back arching off the couch and fingers curling hard against your walls. “You would make me-”
“Gonna make you take it,” he finishes in a voice so rough and broken that you know he’s stopped trying to keep control, too. “Wanna make you take it, wanna show you how good you are for me. How much you’re made for me-”
“Oh, my God, I’m-”
“Wanna make you come around me. Wanna make you fall apart on my cock, pretty girl.”
“Rin,” you squeak in warning, your gut curling hard with desire, tension so close to snapping. “Rinnie, I-”
“Want my name on your tongue when I come inside you.” His voice is pitching up, breath stuttering and syllables twisting short in his mouth. “Want my name in your mouth when I ruin you for anyone else.”
It’s only right, then, that you cry his name when your orgasm slams into you full-force, pulsing and crashing down over you without warning.
By the time you come back to yourself, your walls are twitching with aftershocks around your fingers, and your breath is loud and heavy in your ears. 
Suna’s own breath is shaky in your ears, too. He whispers your name, tired and drained but still full. Still important.
You might have ruined him for anyone else, too.
496 notes · View notes
thesirenisles · 3 months ago
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♄ Utilizing Chakras to Heal your Saturn Wounds
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Chakra is a Sanskrit term used to describe each of the energetic power stations within the human body. These stations, when balanced, ensure the flow of divine energy from our root to our crown.
Balance is also significant to Saturn, which is exalted in the sign of the divine scales, Libra. Saturn’s placement within the natal chart creates restriction, either self imposed or through uncontrollable fated circumstances. As a result, the native lacks or struggles with the themes of whatever it touches, creating an imbalance among the Chakras.
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This pursuit of balance becomes a tasklist with progress reports every 27-30 years (Saturn's Return). The goal is to balance and master this energy.
Embracing the energy of the weaker chakras can assist in this process and in healing. This is a cohesive list (with recommended placements) curated to suit the emotional wounds or lack created by Saturn in the signs and houses. Of course, this can be used as you please! The frequencies can be found on youtube.
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7 - crown chakra
“I am divinely guided, inspired, and protected."
Imbalance Symptom: Attachment Enhances: Spirituality, Enlightenment, Intuition, Empathy, Awareness, Intelligence Right: To know and learn
Location: Top of the head Sound: Silence Gland: Pituitary Colors: White, Violet
Stones: Clear Quartz, Moonstone, Amethyst, Labradorite
Healing Frequency: 963 HZ
suggested placements:
🔮 saturn in pisces / 12th house
🔮 saturn in sagittarius/ 9th house
🔮 saturn in cancer/ 4th house
🔮 saturn in scorpio/ 8th house
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6-third eye
“I trust, honor, and follow my intuition."
Imbalance Symptom: Illusion Enhances: Awareness, Intuition, Thought, Insight, Vision, Mental Clarity, Memory Right: To see
Location: Center of forehead Sound: Om Gland: Pineal Colors: Indigo
Stones: Sodalite, Lapis Lazuli, Azurite, Sapphire
Healing Frequency: 852 HZ
suggested placements
🧿 saturn in gemini/ 3rd house 🧿 saturn in sagittarius/ 9th house 🧿 saturn in aquarius / 11th house 🧿 saturn in pisces/ 12th house
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5 - throat
“I feel safe to speak my truth and honor my voice.”
Imbalance Symptom: Lies Enhances: Expression, Communication, Diplomacy, Personal Voice, Creative Identity Right: To speak and be heard
Location: Throat Sound: Ham Gland: Thyroid Colors: Azure Blue Stones: Turquoise, Blue Lace Agate, Aquamarine, Blue Howlite Healing Frequency: 741 HZ
suggested placements
🪬 saturn in gemini/ 3rd house 🪬 saturn in libra/ 7th house 🪬 saturn in aquarius/ 11th house 🪬 saturn in leo/ 5th house
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4 - heart
“I am worthy of receiving all that I desire.”
Imbalance Symptom: Grief, Depression Enhances: Love, Healing, Acceptance Right: To love and be loved
Location: center of chest, heart Sound: Yam Gland: thymus Colors: Green/ pink Stones: Jade, Green Opal, Rose Quartz, Rhodonite Healing Frequency: 639 HZ
suggested placements
💚 saturn in taurus/ 2nd house 💚 saturn in cancer/ 4th house 💚 saturn in leo/ 5th house 💚 saturn in libra/ 7th house
💚 saturn in sagittarius/ 9th house
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3 - solar plexus
“I am confident in my ability and stand in my power."
Imbalance Symptom: Shame Enhances: Power, Vitality, Manifestation, Self- Definition & Idenitity Right: To act and be an individual
Location: Belly button Sound: Ram Gland: Pancreas Color: Yellow Stones: Topaz, Citrine, Fire Opal, Amber Healing Frequency: 528 HZ
suggested placements
☀️ saturn in aries/ 1st house
☀️ saturn in leo/ 5th house
☀️ saturn in capricorn/ 10th house
☀️ saturn in virgo/ 6th house
☀️ saturn in aquarius/ 11th house
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2 - sacral
“It is my birthright to receive pleasure and I radiate with joy."
Imbalance Symptom: Guilt Enhances: Sex, Creativity, Abundance, Self Care/Gratification, Emotional Intelligence Right: To feel and have pleasure
Location: Lower stomach/ pelvis Sound: Vam Gland: Gonads Color: Orange Stones: Carnelian, Tiger's Eye, Sunstone, Orange Calcite Healing Frequency: 417 HZ
suggested placements
🔥 saturn in leo/ 5th house
🔥 saturn in pisces/ 12th house
🔥 saturn in scorpio/ 8th house
🔥 saturn in cancer/ 4th house
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1 - root
“I am here and the Earth supports, nourishes, and nurtures me.”
Imbalance Symptom: Fear Enhances: Security, Trust, Grounding, Prosperity, Stability Right: To be here
Location: Base of the spine, Perineum Sound: Lam Gland: Adrenal Colors: Red/ Brown Stones: Garnet, Ruby, Red Agate, Bloodstone Healing Frequency: 396 HZ
suggested placements
🌹 saturn in capricorn/10th house
🌹 saturn in scorpio/ 8th house
🌹 saturn in virgo/ 6th house
🌹 saturn in aries/ 1st house
🌹 saturn in taurus/ 2nd house
Thank you for reading!!
check out my blog for in-depth astro & mythology posts!
@thesirenisles | masterlist | ko-fi? ☕️
All rights reserved. © 2024 The Siren Isles
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qlossytbh · 6 months ago
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𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
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𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 so what if instead of JJ you were the one who kept emilys identity a secret and spencer is giving you the cold shoulder.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 mentions spoilers for 6x18, spoilers for 7x2, mentions of drugs, mentions of addiction, very brief mentions of consuming alcohol to cope, fighting, pining, angst :(, but then fluff :D, not proofread
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.7k
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 so i had this idea while watching szn 7 and i got carried away lol
𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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“Spence,” You called, following hot on his trail, frustration welling up in every single fiber of your body. “Spence, look, can we talk about this?”
Spencer had been giving you the cold shoulder throughout the whole day. Dismissing you cruelly, brushing off your every input in the case— you knew you deserved it, if you were being completely honest.
It was only a matter of time before the team found out that you had covered up Emily’s whereabouts, and you knew they had a right to be mad but the only person who was still mad at you was Spencer. The one person you didn’t want mad at you.
Hell even Derek was willing to talk to you and hear you out, but Spencer— God.
And it wasn’t even like he was taking it out on Hotch as well. He was just getting a hit at you and you were growing impatient because he refused to talk about it, just like he was now.
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” He responded contemptuously. You held yourself back from groaning, you placed an angry hand on your hip and faced him.
“You’re angry and disappointed— I get it,” He scoffed, low enough for you to almost miss it but you didn’t. You watched him, completely baffled as he continued grappling at his files. “With the way we handled Emily we—“
He whipped around, nearly bumping into you. You stumbled back momentarily, taken aback by his hostility. “Listen, I have a lot going on, all right?”
“What? Spencer—“ He was halfway out the door, before your stuttering words stopped him in his tracks. He turned on his heels, facing you with the coldest expression you’ve ever seen him wear around you.
You and Spencer never fought. Like ever.
“You know what I think it is?” You started.
“What?” He responded, in a way that made it seem like he was testing you. Like he was warning you not to push him past his limits.
“You’re pissed that me and Hotch were able to control our micro-expressions in the waiting room that night and you weren’t able to detect our deceit.” Spencer looked away, seemingly not being able to face you.
You had definitely gone far, but the exasperation was driving you off the wall and you weren’t beginning to think straight.
Maybe it was the desperation to just be okay with him. Just the thought of this lasting more than a week filled you with dread, you felt helpless.
“You think this is because of my profiling skills?” Disbelief filled his voice and for the millionth time in these twenty four hours, you felt shame. You opened your mouth to continue but he cut you off by saying your full name— Not the nickname he usually called you.
He said it harshly and full of condescension. “Listen, the only reason you were able to manage my perception is because I trusted you— I came to your house for ten weeks in a row crying over losing a friend and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth.”
You looked down, guilt ripping at every single fiber inside of you. You knew it wasn’t okay, and you felt horrible for the repercussions your secret inflicted on the team. It was gut wrenching, to hold someone you loved so much while he violently sobbed with grief and not be able to tell him the truth, not being able to protect him from the pain you swore you’d always shield him from.
But you did it to protect Emily and to protect them. And Spencer didn’t need to understand it, he was allowed to be pissed, but god forbid he talked to you about that anger. Instead he just let it bundle up until he was ready to rub it in your face.
“I couldn’t,” Your voice was unstable.
“You couldn’t? Or you wouldn’t?” There was that goddamn derisive tone again.
“No, I couldn’t!” You seethed, eyes beginning to burn with tears.
It wasn’t logical that you end up crying, and you didn’t want anyone— much less Spencer, to notice he had that effect on you. But he was your friend and he was being cruel.
“What if I started taking dilaudid again, would you have let me?”
You clamped your mouth shut, eyes widening slightly. The tears just began getting harder to blink away, mind flashing images and memories back to when Spencer was struggling with Dilaudid.
“You didn’t.” You weren’t sure if you were saying that to convince yourself or even ease yourself from the thought of the possibility that Spencer had relapsed. It was feeling harder to breathe.
“Yeah, but I thought about it,” He said finally.
No one, not Derek, not JJ— No one, had been by Spencer’s side when he was struggling with his addiction. As his best friend, the second you caught on to him, you encouraged him to get the help he needed and you held his hand every step of the way.
So how dare he throw that into your face right now, as if the consequences of your decision may have led him to potentially relapse. How he made it seem like his suffering was your fault.
For some reason you couldn’t help thinking that in a certain way, it was. And that killed you.
“That isn’t fair,” You whispered, trying to swallow down the tears that were causing your throat to close up.
“You’re not exactly allowed to talk to me about fair,” Spencer turned, giving you one last glance before turning and leaving the room. You stood there, frustration and tears heavy on your trail.
“Reid,” Prentiss called out, to which he completely ignored, waltzing past her without a second glance. The whole team looked over at him and then turned to you.
You sucked in a shaky breath through your nose, trying to prevent yourself from crying. The tears welling in your eyes were completely rooted by all types of anger.
You rushed out of the room and past the team, heading in the opposite direction that Spencer had stormed off to, desperately needing a minute to breath.
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“But careful not to burn the onions,” Hotch inquired, keeping his gaze on the pan.
“Bravo Aaron!” Rossi exclaimed. You let out a low huff of amusement, rolling your eyes at your two co-workers.
Hotch had suggested hosting a dinner party where Rossi teaches the group how to cook like a ‘true Italian’. It was a bonding experience he thought would benefit the team.
Everyone was watching Rossi as he cooked his infamous Carbonara recipe, laying out all the essential steps and rules of a true pasta dish recipe. A glass of wine sat temptingly in front of you, but you knew that if you were to lay a single hand on it, Rossi would rip said hands off your body.
You really needed that drink though.
Once the jet landed after solving the case today, Emily came up to talk to you, mainly just to ask how you were holding up. You told her that you were fine, but she clearly gave you zero satisfaction in believing your white lie.
You were not fine, because since your fight with Spencer you hadn’t talked to him all day. Not during the case, not after it— Not even on the jet ride home, which is when you and Spencer would usually sit together to play poker or to read a book together.
Your mind had been running its gears near exhaustion, both worried and incredibly frustrated with him. It was when Emily informed you that she wasn’t entirely sure if Spencer was going to make an appearance tonight when you realized that you may have potentially ruined one of your most valued relationships.
So yeah, halfway through cooking dinner and no sign of Spencer. You needed that glass of wine— maybe even three more.
The sound of the doorbell ringing busted you from your thoughts. You turned to look at the door. When you looked at Emily she was just as confused as you were, shooting a perplexed shrug your way. Rossi glanced over at the door, before Derek stood. “I got it,”
“Grazie Mille!” JJ reached for her glass beside you before Rossi scolded her profusely.
“Should’ve given you a heads up,” You whispered, resting your forearms on the marble in front of you.
Rossi continued, blabbering passionately about pasta and the true art behind it. You couldn’t help but feel the familiar fondness nestle in your chest. It had been a while since everyone had come together like this. You missed it, but you couldn’t help but feel like there was still something off.
Probably because there was.
“It’s all about timing and rhythm,” He said, hands working on the pasta in front of him. You watched curiously, pursing your lips in concentration. “And if you don’t feel yourself doing it properly, please, order a pizza.”
You laughed softly, not feeling it quite reach your eyes as they fell down to the marble counter. “Sorry I’m late,”
You turned around, straightening your back to see Spencer making his appearance in Rossi’s kitchen. Your mouth hung open, just barely, and you could practically feel your breath hitch into the back of your throat, when he smiled widely.
He walked up to the counter, standing in between you and Emily. The two of you made eye contact and he opened his mouth to speak, but closed it shut, not entirely sure what to say— much less to you. Your eyes nervously left his, cheeks beginning to buzz with heat as Rossi continued explaining how this whole cooking dynamic was going to work.
You hadn’t mentally prepared yourself to see him tonight since Emily said that he was possibly not going to make it. But you weren’t about to deny how happy it made you to see him, and to have him close to you— even if he was angry.
About fifteen minutes and a wine glass later, you stood next to the stove, eyeing the pancetta and onions that sizzled away with another glass of wine in your hand, swirling the dark liquid around.
“The onions are starting to burn,” A voice beside you said. You snapped out of your trail of thoughts, turning to see Spencer making his way towards you, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
His chin jutted towards the pan and you noticed that in fact the onions were beginning to burn. You cursed silently, hands fumbling between the wine glass and the wooden spoon. You quickly downed the remaining wine in your glass before setting it on the counter next to the stove and removing the pan from the heat, all in a mildly frenzied panic.
Spencer took an odd notice that you had consumed two glasses of wine in a span of 15 minutes.
“Don’t tell Rossi,” You groaned, mixing the crisp pancetta and onions around lamely. Spencer chuckled, taking a step closer to you.
You glanced up at him, and quickly averted your gaze back to the pan, blinking rapidly. Garcia and Morgan were laughing away as they chopped up some more parsley while JJ and Hotch were in charge of setting down the plates. Rossi and Prentiss were— drinking wine and chatting.
You were weirdly nervous and found yourself thinking of ways to get away from the situation at hand. “So uh— How are you?”
You bit back a spiteful reply, not wanting to make this worse. However, it was ironic that now he was the one wanting to talk and putting you in a position where you now wanted to give him the cold shoulder.
“Good,” You quipped, mixing the pancetta around. Spencer cleared his throat, shifting on the back of his feet. “I thought you were ignoring me.”
It did no good to beat around the bush, and honestly bringing up the topic at hand filled you with less anxiety than whatever small talk the two of you were attempting to make. Spencer sighed heavily. Your brows were furrowed, eyes drilling holes into the crisping pancetta.
“Can we talk outside?” He muttered. You nodded, informing Emily and Rossi that the pancetta was done but you needed to head out for a bit.
“What you said back at the station,” You started, closing the door behind you. “Were you actually thinking about relapsing or were you saying that to get at me,”
His brows furrowed. “Wha— Yes! I wouldn’t ever use that to spite you,”
You crossed your arms across your chest. “It felt like that was the intention,”
“It wasn’t, I promise I—“ Spencer peered to his side. “I was really mad— I still kind of am,”
“Then let’s talk about it,” You exasperated, voice growing weak as you finally turned to face him. “We talk about it Spencer, you don’t give me the cold shoulder and then lash out on me when I try to talk about things.”
Spencer knew he could be harsh, especially when he was angry and especially when that anger was rooted by betrayal. He had a hard time opening up about what was going on inside of him constantly, but that wasn’t an excuse to lash out on you the way he did.
“Can I ask you something just to get it out of the way?” Spencer nodded immediately.
“Anything,”
“Why does your anger feel personal? Why aren’t you shutting Hotch out the way you’re doing with me?” Your eyes were mixed with layers of all sorts of complicated feelings
“Because it is personal Y/n,” You looked at Spencer. “You are my best friend, probably one of the most important people in my life and It makes me feel stupid having gone to your house crying countless nights when you knew this whole time that she was alive.”
“I feel like an idiot..!” You felt a pang of guilt. You never wanted Spencer feeling stupid for feeling anything.
“I know! I know—“
The room suddenly felt heavy and you wish the back of your eyes weren’t burning the way they currently were. You really wanted this to be a good night.
“You’re allowed to be mad at me Spence,” You closed your eyes, drawing in a deep breath. “I’m not expecting this to be fine immediately, because whether or not my lie has justification, it was still a lie and I’m sorry,”
His eyes scanned yours slowly, both of your faces etched with regret. “I’m sorry for lying,”
“I really wish I could say I shouldn’t have done it, but I truly didn’t have another choice,” Spencer watched you dig your teeth into the plump flesh of your lower lip.
“Yeah,” He sighed in defeat. “I know,”
The two of you shifted in the uncomfortable silence, not knowing how else to act or what to say. You cleared your throat and looked up at him. “If you need some more time I get, just let me know,”
“No—“ Spencer shook his head instantly, looking down at you. “I really don’t want that.”
Spencer was miserable with the distance he put between you these past couple of days. It was hell to him, having felt so betrayed by someone he loved so deeply the way he loved you, but talking things out with you, it made things better. Not fixed, but better.
He reached out, grabbing your forearm and pulling you close to him. Your arms immediately flew around his neck, hands tangling into his hair while his arms wrapped themselves snugly around your waist. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and relaxing against your body. He missed having you like this.
“I’m sorry,” You muttered. Spencer communicated back by giving you a tight squeeze and the two of you stood there, engulfed in each other's company for just a while longer.
When you pulled away, it was only a few inches, just enough for your hands to remain on his shoulder while his hands sat on the curve of your waist.
You watched him, the hairs on the back of your neck suddenly standing up when you noticed his gaze flicker upon your lips. Your face burned and a million unconscious thoughts started barging into your head and—
“Reid! Y/N!” Derek shot from inside the house. You jumped, pulling away from Spencer and turning to the door.
“Uh—“ You pointed back. “We should, you know—“
“Y-Yeah!—“ Spencer squeaked, face turning red. “Yeah, uh, definitely— we definitely should—“
Yep, you definitely missed whatever this was.
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rosenotactuallyquartz · 2 months ago
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amethyst & rose
(an analysis on their dynamic)
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amethyst & rose have a very fascinating dynamic. amethyst looked up to rose, believing that she made everything better. the feeling was mutual. they never quite knew just how alike they were, but they inspired each other nonetheless.
"rose said i'm perfect the way i am!" — amethyst, crack the whip
“one very important relationship is amethyst with rose, because amethyst is what rose wished she could be." — steven universe podcast, volume 3, episode 1
from the beginning, rose felt a connection to amethyst. there were little pieces of rose’s soul in everyone she loved. from there, she wanted to give them the environment that she never had in her early years.
for example, rose perceived greg as the human version of herself in a lot of ways. their minds worked the same way. garnet & rose connected as gems who shared similar beliefs, and they bonded over their experiences related to love & interpersonal connections—the beauty they saw in things that were considered wrong in the eyes of homeworld’s society. as for pearl… she contrasted rose in many ways, and that made their connection meaningful in its own way, as partners. still, when it came to emotions, they were similar (i.e., how they felt when they wanted to protect something or someone, how they loved, etc. in general, they also felt everything very strongly, so strongly that it hurt them). rose was deeply inspired by her loved ones & often admired the traits & skills that she didn’t share with them. however, the similarities between rose & her loved ones likely played a role in what she wanted to do for them. she wanted everyone to have the environment she never had on homeworld. while there were no rules & freedom for all the crystal gems to be who they are (among other things), rose was very extreme, as sugar states.
"the thing that she really lacks is balance, any ability to temper her extremes. this is part of her character throughout her forms: she's always very extreme." — rebecca sugar, end of an era
“[amethyst] was sheltered from knowing the full truth of her origin & therefore she was not free to build on that aspect of her identity. both the advantages of freedom & the disadvantages of lack of structure manifested in her." — steven universe podcast, volume two, ep two
nevertheless, the way rose revered & loved everyone around her was incredibly sincere & intense. her guilt, self-hatred, & lack of self-acceptance made it hard for her to feel empathy for herself. at the same time, she gave so much care, love, & acceptance to all these little pieces of herself. she never realized just how similar she was to those she loved because she often hid things. to amethyst, rose had all the answers, and every day with her was relaxing, fun, and she felt loved. rose was older than her, the nurturing mom friend who (as amethyst said herself) made everything better. at the same time, it was hard for amethyst to fully understand rose's choices and she never saw a lot of her vulnerabilities.
amethyst & rose were so incredibly similar, & they had no idea just how much they had in common. still, they both knew they were similar. both are playful & young-at-heart. both feel emotions deeply, but they cope with their intensity by trying to make things lighthearted.
they share a sense of wonder that makes them see beauty in the most unusual and odd things—moss, random foods. they probably both brought back the most ridiculous things from missions, much to pearl's dismay.
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while rose kept secrets, she also did everything in her power to shield amethyst from anything that might hurt her. because here’s something that pearl + rose have in common: they both want to help so much that it hurts them. they want to prevent harm, to protect those they love & see as precious, but they can’t control everything, & that causes a lot of pain.
"i'm not supposed to be small. and everyone's always acting like there's no problem. you can be anything you want to be. no! i can't. i can't even be the one thing i'm supposed to be, you know?" — amethyst, steven versus amethyst
“rose teaches amethyst: you can be anything you want to be! huge advocate of shapeshifting, self-expression, anarchy—however, amethyst can sense shame from rose and pearl over the kindergarten.” — rebecca sugar, end of an era
literally & figuratively, amethyst and rose both felt smaller compared to the other quartzes and diamonds, respectively. though their situations were different—rose coming from homeworld, & amethyst learning about it later—other quartzes made amethyst feel insecure, powerless, & "wrong," much like rose felt as a diamond. despite this, they both became crystal gems, rebels choosing to be their own individuals, knowing they don’t have to follow homeworld’s rules about their gem’s purpose. they both love living on earth.
"what? you mean about the bad thing? how this bad place is where bad gems came to grow more bad gems? is that what you're talking about?" — amethyst, on the run
"rose's message began to resonate, to pink diamond's dismay. her colony was falling apart. so, like a coward, she called for her diamond allies, yellow & blue, to help." — garnet, your mother and mine
their beliefs also made them ashamed when they looked at their gems. rose, though she became her own person and acted as if the past never happened, still remembered being a diamond.
"i never asked for it to be this way. i never asked to be made!" — amethyst, on the run
"[rose] couldn't stand herself; self-destruction is a huge theme throughout the show—the struggle of the feeling that you shouldn't exist, & what that can do to a person. a lot of the themes of the show exist within rose." — rebecca sugar, end of an era
knowing everything that the diamonds did fueled her self blame & only worsened her feeling that she shouldn’t exist. amethyst feels similarly, and while she became her own person and those around her acted like the kindergarten never happened, she felt like a “big mistake.”
"i’m not going to let you stand there & remind me of everything i hate about myself!" — amethyst, on the run
"[rose] reveres them instead, because they are better than she could ever be, & that reverence is so honest & intoxicating that it draws everyone closer to her, without them understanding the deep self-hatred that pull is coming from." — end of an era, page 88
for a variety of reasons, they both struggle with low self esteem. pink felt insecure around diamonds on homeworld & amethyst felt insecure around quartzes on homeworld, making them feel smaller not just physically but emotionally. they often felt like they needed to change themselves to fit in. they also struggle with the feeling that their closest loved ones are better than them, although the reasons may look a bit different. amethyst knows that garnet, rose, & pearl fought in the war and aren’t from the kindergarten, while rose also feels guilt about where she’s from and feels weak & “bad” compared to the others.
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“amethyst finally understands rose... wanting her to shapeshift... not feel obligated to be a quartz... suddenly feels sympathy... kinship. it wasn’t amethyst being inspired by rose. rose was inspired by them!” — end of an era
“the truth is that the people in her life would be so much more understanding than she believes they will be.” — end of an era
“i know you feel bad! believe me, i get it! sometimes it feels like you're never gonna like yourself but it's possible, man!” — amethyst, i am my monster
whenever people ask me what rose needed to do in order to heal, my answer is long & complicated. but i will say, i always include connie’s quote from mindful education. “you have to be honest about how bad it feels so that you can move on!” rose needed to be honest & vulnerable with her loved ones. this includes conversations about the past that she was ashamed of. this is why i never joined the fans who say pearl’s reaction to finding out rose kept secrets from even her was inherently wrong or harmful to rose, as a partner.
i always wished we saw more scenes of rose & amethyst. their dynamic is fascinating, & if rose could see amethyst by the timeline of future, she would understand just how much she could relate to her. opening up was difficult for rose, & for a good reason. revealing secrets she was ashamed of, taking accountability, & apologizing for things would always result in abandonment (isolation) or physical & emotional pain (punishments) during her early life on homeworld, with no positives in the end. hiding must have felt like a necessity for survival, & her fear of being caught by the diamonds worsened her anxiety, making her feel used to always hiding. nevertheless, rose really did contribute to a safe environment for amethyst’s early years & i think that’s incredible.
despite the tragic parts, amethyst & rose had a dynamic that was both close & meaningful. amethyst loved the life she had with rose, & now, she completely understands rose’s actions & everything rose did for her. as for rose, she loved someone who she knew well enough to be able to relate to, on some level. seeing their similarities, even the ones that are as simple as personalities, probably helped rose love herself a bit more.
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canihaveacalmtime · 23 days ago
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Your first life was a life filled with sorrow and unfortunates with not just being treated badly in the family but also get look down by the servants. Even so, behind the image you put on every day, you were working hard to enhance your family image day by day with a fake identity.
You may fool yourself by saying you're doing all of this for your family because you love them a lot but in reality, you're just doing this because you love the life without your family, the life that you can freely decide your choices.
But you were a person born with bad luck, so even a day you deemed and thought would be peaceful and turn into the day your fate sealed. That day, while trying to protect your family from the assassins, you were killed.
You also thought that it was the end for you but when you open your eyes again, you saw familiar faces that, in your previous life, never looked at you so adoringly like that before.
It took you sometime but you realized that you were reincarnated and now living your second life, in the same family, with the same name but start all over as a baby. Remeber back then when you were born, your parents immediately look at you with disgust and send you to live in the servants' headquarters.
But look at them now! They're holding you in their arms and playing with you, even your brothers are trying to have their turn to hold you, with the amount of overwhelming differences, you forgot how to even act as a baby.
Time flies as you're now 10, over the years, you learned that your family reputation has never fallen, very unlike the previous life and they're also super adore you and protective too to the point you can even call it possessive. But with the years go on, you also learned how to begin making the giant line between you and your family, trying to avoid them more and more.
In your previous life, due to the neglect, you can freely do anything, leave and return anytime you want but those daily things back then are now very difficult to do because if you want to go out, you will go out with supervisor which is your brothers and you don't want that. So you begin writing daily in your dairy about your life as a reincarnated, your family and others around you and how horrible your previous life was.
Soon, you have to get a new book to write in and turn your old dairy into a reading book. Your grave mistake is that during tea time with your family, you forgot to bring your book with you and accidentally left it at the table when you return to your room. Your two curious brothers can't help themselves and decided to see what you've been reading these days, they soon realized the horrifying truth and hand the book to the parents.
Now that they all know, you wouldn't have to keep up the cold act anymore and can just bluntly show off your hate for them, thinking that your plan of leaving this family is now easier but is it?
On your 14th birthday, they bought a cake of your (F/C), you didn't really think much about anything or suspicious of them because they do this every year so as you were taking the last bite of your cake piece, everything around you goes black.
Every single day after that was nothing different from your previous life, all the tormenting, the horrible treatments and even occasionally beating. All of it hits at your weakest spot, your mental health, making you slowly go insane after just one year, sooner than they have expected.
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After your death during the assassination, your family begin digging deeper into the info of those that attacked them and accidentally stumbled upon a shocking and horrifying discovery. The reason why they were still having a good life, living in good conditions and stay respected among the nobles was because of you.
Knowing that they have left a child surviving without care and love which should've been their responsibilities, the guilt has never been more immense.
Realizing in this second life they have been given another chance at redeeming themselves to be a better family, they take nothing for granted and give you as much love as possible. They didn't really mind much with your coldness as long as you're with them but after learned about the reason for your behaviors toward them, they knew that something must be change. You can't leave them like this, they can't let you leave them like this.
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You were clinging onto your mother while she soothe your cries of pain, your brothers bandaging your bruised and wounded arms, and your father making sure that you swear to never leave them or you'll be punish again.
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A/N: Sorry guys I'm really busy with school and other things right now so I can not write daily or often anymore 😔 and I don't think I put my mind into writing this one 💀
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jukednuked · 1 year ago
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🚨🚨🔉GENSHIN 4.0 SPOILER WARNING❌❌‼️‼️‼️WEEWOO HALT RIGHT THERE
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LYNEY eyeing you with nothing but guilt and resentment towards himself as you speak about your hatred towards the Fatui.
LYNEY who did not have it in him to tell you about his... identity, but just for now; he wanted to be sure that he'd deliver the news well enough.
LYNEY who knew the consequences of falling in love with someone truly kind enough to help him mentally prepare before a magic show, but alas choose to ignore them
LYNEY looking horrified when you found out about his true nature, you couldn't help but doubt these allegations so you had to confront him, silently begging for them to be fake; that it's all just rumours, made up out of boredom by some people.
LYNEY who did not have a choice but tell you the truth. the only resemblance both of you shared were your eyes filled to the brim with tears threatening to fall as he and you looked down.
it would be an understatement to say that his heart sank deeper than the depths of the ocean when you left without a word, but LYNEY was determined to wait for you no matter how many years it'll take, no matter what happens. he would not give up, never for your sake. even if he fails to avert the prophecy, he would make sure that the water swallows the both of you together, in the end.
(i love angst😓🙏🙏 breakdances THINKINGGG ABOUT DOING SMT LIKE THIS WITH FREMINET edit: hihi i finally did🤑🔥💸💯)
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pretzel-box · 2 months ago
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STREAMER AU MASTERLIST HERE
PART 5: PAINT YOUR DOUBTS
Tags: Fluff, Drama, Angst, Stolen Identity, did I mention drama already? Also Painter!
Words: 3k
Authors Note: It’s almost Thursday and I couldn't wait. If it's weirdly written or you see mistakes: This was edited on my phone and I am suffering. Please bear with me.
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Allison could see the lovestruck gleam in Sebastian’s eyes, and she knew she had won. Leaning closer, she gently rested her forehead against his, her lips curling into a sweet smile as her fingers intertwined with his. “I love you,” she whispered softly, her voice dripping with sincerity. “I always have.”
Sebastian drank in her words, soaking up the affection he so desperately craved. Those three simple words were enough to seal his fate. He pressed his lips to hers once more, the kiss soft but full of unspoken promises—promises to never leave her side, to always be there. In his arms, he finally had his Jelly, and he knew he would never let go.
As Sebastian held her close, his heart pounding as if it had been waiting for this moment all along. In his arms, he believed he finally had everything he ever wanted. Allison—Jelly—was his, and there was nothing that could break this moment.
Their kiss deepened, Sebastian’s grip on her tightened, not out of force, but from a sense of security, like he was holding on to the one thing that could keep him grounded. He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers once again, his breath heavy but steady.
"I never thought I'd have you like this," Sebastian murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I waited so long... I was scared I’d lose you before I ever had the chance."
Allison smiled, a hint of triumph hidden behind her gentle gaze. “You’ll never lose me, Sebastian,” she reassured him, her fingers tracing lazy circles on the back of his hand. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Inside, she felt a surge of victory—Sebastian was completely hers now. She had taken Jelly’s place, and he was none the wiser. Allison savored the way he looked at her with devotion, not realizing the depth of her manipulation. She had him right where she wanted him.
But as the two stood there, locked in the warmth of what felt like love to him and power to her, a tiny flicker of guilt brushed against Allison’s mind. She quickly pushed it away. This was for her, for her happiness. Being close to Solace, even if it meant betraying her friend, was worth it.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Sebastian continued, his eyes soft as he gazed at her. "It feels right—finally."
Allison leaned in, pressing another kiss to his lips, silencing him for the moment. She didn’t need to hear his words of devotion; she had already won the game.
And as they stood together, the world outside of this moment seemed distant. For now, Sebastian’s world revolved around Allison—his supposed Jelly—and she would make sure it stayed that way.
“How about I pick you up for lunch tomorrow? We can finally test out the new sushi bar you wanted to try so badly.” He whispers against her lips, hoping she would agree to his planned lunch date. He remembered every single thing about her, the way you excitedly rambled about sushi once. Sebastian had mentioned it to Allison again and of course she had to play along, telling him about a sushi bar that opened near their place.
The truth? Allison hated sushi. The smell, the texture, the taste—it all repulsed her. If she wanted the taste of raw fish, she'd rather go lick the ocean. But she couldn’t let that show, not now. Not when Sebastian was falling deeper into her trap. If she had to eat sushi to keep him hooked, she’d swallow every last bite with a smile.
She nodded, giggling like a schoolgirl. “Of course, I’d love to. Just the two of us,” she said sweetly, masking her distaste behind a charming facade.
Sebastian’s face lit up, his heart swelling at her response. “Just us,” he echoed, his voice full of affection. He kissed her forehead softly, pulling her closer in a warm embrace. “I can’t wait. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.”
Allison smiled sweetly, but internally, she was already dreading tomorrow. The thought of raw fish made her stomach turn, but she couldn’t show any hint of discomfort. She had to play her part perfectly. If sushi was what it took to keep Sebastian wrapped around her finger, then she would endure it.
“Neither can I,” she said, her voice dripping with false excitement. She leaned into his chest, hiding the small grimace that flashed across her face for a brief moment. Allison could handle this. After all, she had gotten this far.
Sebastian stroked her hair, feeling content in her presence. To him, everything was falling into place. He had his Jelly, the one person he had been dreaming of for so long. Nothing could go wrong now.
As the night wore on and they eventually parted ways, Allison’s mind raced. She needed to make sure her disguise as Jelly was airtight. No slip-ups. She couldn’t afford to reveal her true identity now, not when Sebastian was already so smitten. She would suffer through sushi if that’s what it took. She had worked too hard to let it fall apart over something as trivial as food.
Tomorrow, she would smile and pretend to enjoy every bite. Tomorrow, she will play her role perfectly, just as she had from the start.
The next day arrived with the soft rumble of Sebastian's motorcycle pulling up in front of Allison's place. She stood at the entrance, wearing a carefully curated outfit that screamed casual, yet put-together. Her heart raced, but not out of excitement—more out of the looming dread of what she would have to do once they reached the sushi bar.
Sebastian flashed her a grin, his helmet already in hand as he handed her a second one. "Ready?" he asked, voice warm and full of affection.
Allison nodded with a smile, sliding on the helmet and hopping onto the back of his bike, wrapping her arms around his waist. The engine revved, and they sped off down the road, the cool breeze whipping past them as they navigated through the city.
The sushi bar was quaint, tucked into a quiet corner of the street. Sebastian parked the bike, helping Allison off before they entered the place together.
They were greeted with a soft glow from the restaurant's paper lanterns, the delicate smell of rice and fish wafting through the air. Allison tried to suppress her gag reflex as they were seated by the window. Sebastian looked relaxed, glancing over the menu with a small smile on his face, oblivious to her discomfort.
"I think I'll try the chef's special. What about you?" he asked, looking over at her expectantly.
Allison forced another smile. "That sounds great. I’ll have the same."
The waiter soon arrived, jotting down their orders and disappearing into the kitchen. Sebastian reached across the table, taking her hand in his. "I’m glad we’re doing this. Feels like it's been a long time coming."
Allison nodded, keeping her facade firmly in place. “Me too.”
But just as things seemed to be going smoothly for her, the door to the restaurant swung open, and her stomach dropped.
It was you.
You walked in, scanning the place casually before your gaze locked onto them. Sebastian noticed too, sitting up straighter, a grin forming on his face. He waved you over.
“Hey! Come join us!” Sebastian called out, his voice breaking through the serene ambiance of the restaurant. "Allison's here too, and you're her friend, right?"
You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what you were walking into. But with no real reason to refuse, you offered a polite smile and walked over to the table. A thousand questions flew through your head as you tried to come up with a reasonable idea why the two of them sat together. “Hey guys,” you greeted them, sitting down as the waiter brought you a menu.
It wasn’t until you sat that the tension became palpable. You looked at Sebastian, then Allison, back and forth, trying to piece together the dynamic between them. The two of them seemed strangely close, almost too close.
Sensing your confusion, Sebastian spoke up. “I meant to tell you… actually, I was going to soon. Allison and I are… we’re dating now.” He said it with pride, glancing at Allison with that same lovestruck expression you recognized all too well.
Your heart sank. A thousand thoughts flooded your mind, each one cutting a little deeper than the last, but you kept your expression neutral, unwilling to let anything show.
“Wow, that’s… that’s great,” you managed to say, forcing a smile that you hoped looked genuine. “I’m really happy for you both.”
Sebastian beamed, clearly oblivious to the sudden shift in your demeanor. Allison, meanwhile, met your gaze with a triumphant smirk barely hidden behind her own facade.
You swallowed hard, your appetite vanishing as the reality settled in. Sebastian had moved on, with Allison of all people. But you had to play along. “So, what’s good here?” you asked lightly, trying to keep the conversation going while your mind raced.
Sebastian eagerly dove into a conversation about the menu and what he planned to order, but you could hardly focus on his words. Your thoughts were too loud, too heavy. You felt like an outsider sitting at the table with them, despite their warm invitation.
Pretending to be happy for them both was the only option you had.
In the span of the next five days, Allison seemed to make your house her permanent residence. She was loud, obnoxious, and clung to Sebastian like bubblegum that just wouldn’t let go. Your motivation to stream was at an all-time low, work had drained you completely, and the heartbreak you were going through felt like the final blow. You’d posted a community update on your streaming account, apologizing for your short absence without getting into much detail. Thankfully, your fans were understanding and flooded the post with messages of support. At least the strangers on the internet still had your back.
It was Thursday evening, and you carried two boxes of Chinese takeout—your favorite. Every third Thursday of the month was Chinese Takeout Thursday, a tradition you and Sebastian had started. Either one of you would bring home food, and the two of you would settle in for an episode of How I Married a Wall Dweller, your favorite TV drama.
You kicked off your shoes and set the takeout on the counter, feeling a brief flicker of hope for a cozy evening. But as you moved through the apartment, a soft, melodic strumming drifted out from Sebastian’s room, followed by Allison’s unmistakable, girly laughter. Your heart sank.
Sebastian was playing guitar for her.
He’d never played guitar for you. He always claimed he wasn’t good enough, that he didn’t want you to hear him make mistakes. Yet here he was, strumming away like he had nothing to hide, serenading Allison while you stood there, boxes of takeout in hand, feeling like you didn’t belong in your own home.
You grabbed one box of takeout and tossed the other in the trash, not even caring. The excitement for your shared tradition had evaporated, leaving a dull ache in its place. With a heavy sigh, you retreated to your room, settling into bed and turning on your favorite TV drama. The room felt unusually cold that night, a chill that settled deep in your bones.
Allison, however, wasn’t resting easy. The more you withdrew from Sebastian, the more threatened she felt. She couldn’t stand the thought of you finding solace in streaming—one thing she couldn't control, especially since she knew how much Sebastian cared about your streaming career.
So she concocted another plan: get Jellycatfished banned.
It wasn’t difficult. You’d been careless enough to use the same password for everything, and Allison had no trouble logging in to your streaming account. It took her mere minutes to get you banned by triggering multiple violations. She knew Sebastian would be concerned and question what had happened, but she was ready with a perfect excuse:
The platform must have made a mistake. They banned you for no reason.
It was flawless. You’d be out of the streaming scene, and she’d make sure Sebastian stayed oblivious. No more streams, no more collaboration invites—just her and Sebastian.
Another win for Allison.
The moment the notification hit your inbox, your heart sank. Your account—Jellycatfished—banned. All the hours, all the work, gone in an instant. It felt like the final straw. You could handle work stress, you could even tolerate Allison’s constant presence, but this? This was your safe space, your escape, and now it is gone.
Without thinking, your first instinct was to message Solace. He deserved to know. You quickly typed a message, your hands trembling as you tried to explain the situation.
"Hey, I just got banned from the platform. I don’t know what happened... but I thought you should know."
What you didn’t realize was that Allison had already gotten to him. She’d mentioned it casually when he asked why you hadn’t been streaming, spinning her story about how the platform must have glitched and banned you for no reason.
Sebastian had seemed concerned, sure, but Allison’s explanation had been so confident, so convincing, that he hadn’t questioned it too much. So when your message came through, his response was quick but flat.
"Yeah, you mentioned that during our date earlier. That sucks, but I’m sure it’ll get sorted out."
You stared at his reply, your heart sinking even further. The words didn't make sense, not at all. Date? What date? The realization crashed over you, an emotional tidal wave that made your head spin. You flung your phone onto your bed, letting out a muffled scream into your pillow, your nails digging deep into the fabric as rage, betrayal, and frustration surged through you. Allison had done it. She had somehow stolen your account, your identity, and now, it seemed, she was trying to steal everything else too.
As the echoes of your scream faded into the stillness of your room, you pulled yourself up and grabbed your phone again. The silence around you was stifling, heavy with the weight of everything you’d just uncovered. You took a breath, your fingers trembling as they hovered over the keyboard.
"Solace, we are not dating."
The reply came quickly.
"What do you mean, we are not? We had so many dates already, Ally. You want me to actually officially ask you out? Let me prepare at least, cutie."
He didn’t get it. He didn’t catch the weight of your words at all.
You hesitated for a moment, then typed, "Solace, I am not Ally. It's me. Your roommate."* You added your name for clarity.
And then... silence. Nothing. No response. No footsteps coming toward your door. Nothing at all.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the hallway, Sebastian was staring at his screen in growing confusion. It’s you and not Allison? How? His thoughts raced, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to process. He quickly opened another chat, the one he’d been using with Allison for weeks, his fingers moving frantically across the keyboard.
"Babe, why is my roommate on your Discord?"
Miles away, Allison had just stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around her as she glanced at her phone. Her face paled, her heart skipping a beat when she saw Sebastian’s message. You sneaky little worm... she thought, fury bubbling inside her. You were trying to expose her, daring to unravel the web she’d so carefully woven. But Allison wasn’t going to let that happen without a fight.
She quickly typed back, her fingers flying over the screen.
"Oh god. Seb, I didn’t want to tell you at first..."
“Your roommate is in love with you…they are actually stalking me now since I became your girlfriend and they are jealous. Seems like they even hacked my discord and pretended that they are me…What if they got my streaming account banned too?”
"I'm so sorry, Ally. I promise I'll get this sorted out. No matter what happens, you're my priority, and I support you."
Sebastian’s words echoed in his head, gnawing at him days later as the whole situation weighed heavily on his nerves. He hadn’t even had the chance to talk to you yet, having blocked your Discord account per Allison's suggestion. She'd convinced him it was safer that way until she could switch out her email and password.
Sitting in Painter’s little tech shop, Sebastian sipped on his cup of instant coffee, his mind swirling. "Man, you look horrible," Painter, his friend and confidant, remarked from across the counter. Painter’s small shop was filled with parts and gadgets, tech stuff scattered everywhere, but today it felt heavier with the weight of Sebastian’s troubles.
“It all makes sense now, Painter. The movie nights, Chinese takeout days, working together...Meeting them in the Sushi Bar even. God, I was so blind." He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair before pulling out his phone and sliding it over to his friend. Painter picked it up, scrolling through the chat history and screenshots Sebastian had saved before blocking you.
As he scrolled, Painter’s brow furrowed. Something wasn’t sitting right. His fingers moved faster across the screen, pulling up messages and logs, all while Sebastian sat there, completely spaced out. Painter and Sebastian had a close bond, and having his friend type on his phone wasn’t unusual. In fact, they often shared stuff like this.
"I'm sorry, man. This really sounds tough," Painter mumbled, his voice distant as he dug deeper into the details. Secretly, Painter unblocked your Discord, his technical expertise kicking into high gear. After a few moments, he managed to pull up something that made him pause: the IP address.
He cross-checked it with the logs and Sebastian's own information. It was the same IP. How could that be? Painter’s mind raced. If this account really belonged to Allison, there was no way it would have the same IP as Sebastian’s unless…
Painter’s heart sank as the realization hit. The only possibility was that the account was yours. You had been telling the truth all along.
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fortuna-et-cataclysmos · 1 month ago
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On grief and guilt of Adrien in the season finale
Just taking a moment to rethink the events of the season 5 finale and the London special from Adrien's perspective.
You are locked in a cell in a different city while your partner fights your nemesis. You send your Miraculous to Ladybug and sit out the final fight. Then Ladybug comes to your cell and tells you that your father sacrificed himself because she, by herself, wasn't enough to beat the Monarch. Your father dies a hero, but well, he has still died, and unbeknownst to LITERALLY ANYONE (as far as you know), no one knows that you're actually Chat Noir, yes, the one with superpowers and could have saved his father if only he were there during the final battle.
He's blaming himself so much for his father's death. Imagine being LITERALLY THE ONLY PERSON who could have fought alongside Ladybug at that definitive battle, and not being there. Because you just weren't good enough to get out of the cell.
The final scene of the London special hits hard:
Ladybug: (Do you know what it is like keeping) a secret so heavy that you really want to share it now, right now, because it is too hard and you want to cry and you need someone to console you? Chat Noir: Yes. Yes, I'm familiar.
What you think his secret is?
Realistically, if he really wanted to tell Ladybug his father died, he could; he could tell her that he has lost someone really close to him, and that would have been enough to protect his identity while getting his partner's support and consolation.
The reason why he can't tell is because his secret is the guilt. The guilt of knowing that he is responsible for his father's death. But of course, he can't tell that to Ladybug, because then, he would need to reveal his identity.
If only, if only he knew that his father wasn't the hero everyone was making him out to be. If only he knew that he needn't to feel guilty for missing out the battle, because he had already lost his father the day he'd lost his mother.
Truth is, grief was unescapable for Adrien. He had already grieved his mother, and he would eventually grieve the loss of his father, literally or metaphorically, the moment Gabriel Agreste decided to use the Butterfly miraculous to bring back his wife.
But by hiding the truth about Gabriel, Ladybug is adding guilt to the mix. Because now, Adrien has not only lost his father, but he also thinks that he is the one responsible for it. While it was ENTIRELY Gabriel's own actions that brought his demise. And neither Ladybug, nor Chat Noir, could have prevented that. They couldn't have made him unevil.
So ironically, by trying to protect him from pain, Ladybug is inflicting more pain on Adrien. Except that it is not only in the form of grief, but also guilt.
This is not to diss on Ladybug; she is doing her best with the information available for her. But it certainly isn't the best for Adrien.
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bahablastplz · 8 months ago
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Undeniably His: Vampire Jeongin x Reader
Inspired by this post from @cbini, I started thinking about what sex would be like with your boyfriend I.N. the first time after he turns into a vampire with his new overly heightened senses. Content: Smut, Angst Warnings: Mentions of death, established relationship, kissing, blood-drinking, marking, hair-pulling, oral f! receiving, oral m! receiving, unprotected sex (but it doesn’t matter bc vampires can’t get humans pregnant), p in v sex, overstimulation   WC: 2600 
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You had been dating Jeongin for a little over two years when the accident happened. A freak incident had sent your boyfriend over a bridge in a car accident that killed five people; he was the only survivor, pulled from the water in some freak miracle. Not a scratch on him. Physically, he was fine, but that was when he started experiencing other symptoms. Violent impulses. Weird cravings.  Heightened senses.  When he started getting sick you were beside yourself with worry. You had almost lost him once, you could not do it again. You had stuck by his side throughout the entire accident, through his grief, and of course, through the sickness. Your questions were answered when he was approached by the creature that turned him, telling him the truth of that night. That Jeongin needs to feed or he will die. That he was a vampire. 
Jeongin was overstruck with guilt and grief. He wouldn’t feed, he decided, he couldn’t kill another human being. This was much to your dismay, as this would mean that you would both lose your boyfriend and bestfriend. His mother would lose a son. The community would have to suffer through yet another loss after the accident. 
Jeongin fed against his own will. His behavior and attitude had changed over the course of his illness, and he had gotten into a petty fight. He didn’t even know the guy's name, but when Jeongin was pushed, weak and frail, something snapped. His fangs embedded into the man’s skin and he bled him dry. He didn’t even tell you after; you had read in the local news of a man that was exsanguinated, mysteriously in the night and you knew what your boyfriend had done. Immediately the mystery sickness went away but he could no longer bring himself to face you or his family, despite your protests and pleas to let you help him.
It was a long and grueling journey, convincing Jeongin to get back together with you. He wouldn’t even let you be ‘just friends,’ or even in your presence until he could learn to control his bloodlust. After several months he started going back to school again, despite the university putting him on academic probation; they gave him time to process his supposed PTSD from the accident. It was soon after he finally started answering your texts. 
Slowly, your boyfriend let you back into his life. He was the same man as he was before the accident, but he was different, in some ways. He had alarming self-control, for one. He was more sure of himself. The way he carried himself was strong and powerful, not to be messed with. He had built up a wall, one you had intended to help him tear down piece by piece. 
It wasn’t that he didn’t love you on your break, he had told you. It was the fact that he had loved you, and with his heightened senses he was scared that he wouldn’t be able to control himself around you. Just your smell, it drove him insane, he confessed. He explained to you that you were like a drug, and every way he wanted and needed you before he transformed, grew tenfold and consumed him. With his time away he grew satiated and more confident that he could control himself, never going as far to kill another human when he fed. 
Tonight was the night you finally convinced him to stay over in your dorm. 
It was refreshing. It was familiar. It was a little strange that your boyfriend’s familiar warmth was gone, but you were happy to be in his presence again. Because in those few months that he took to try to navigate his new identity, you never stopped loving him. It took him some convincing, but you let him know that you would love both the old Jeongin and the new Jeongin. Tonight, as you watch a comfort movie in his arms you’re encapsulated in the embrace of his non-beating heart. One that, according to him, loves you deeper and more intensely than the old one had capacity for. 
You kiss him. It’s hesitant, it’s soft, it contains so many emotions. He’s wiping away a tear that you didn’t know had slipped as he kisses you deeper. Your hands tug through his hair just the way he likes, and he’s out of breath so suddenly, He’s breathing hard, his chest evident of the laborious task that kissing you is. When your tongue dips into his mouth he moans into you. You feel a soft prick against your lips and then Jeongin is across the room, apart from you as if your skin had set him ablaze. His eyes are wide and he looks frantic, a hand on his chest as if to stop his heart from beating so fast though you both know that’s not the case. When your hand reaches your mouth to investigate, you see exactly what your boyfriend was so afraid of. Your blood. In the midst of your makeout session, he had accidentally pricked your lip with his fang, drawing blood. Not a lot, but enough to freak him out, evidently. 
“I–I’m so sorry,” he whispers. His voice trembles. 
You cross the room and meet your boyfriend. You reach your hand out to touch his face but he draws away. 
“I can’t… I’m going to hurt you,” he says. 
“You’re not going to hurt me, Innie. I know you. This is the same body you’ve touched a million times before, you know my body better than I do. I trust you… to be intimate with me, again. So, please,” you say, reaching your blood-soaked finger up to his lips. 
“Y/N… I’m afraid that I won’t be able to control myself,” he says, closing his eyes as if practicing restraint. 
“Then don’t.” You’re pushed against the bed at superhuman speed, his hips pressing into you hard. The offered finger is in his mouth and he’s unabashedly sucking the blood from it, letting out a filthy, guttural moan. Before you can question the man his lips are against yours again, sucking them into his mouth, drinking up the blood from the small wound he had given you. His tongue is all over yours and you can taste your copper substance on his mouth though it's not unpleasant. He breathes into you as if you are his lifeforce, his oxygen. Meanwhile, he ruts his hips against you over and over again, a bruising yet welcomed grip on your waist. 
“Feels good?” You ask, pulling away to look in his eyes. He’s panting, letting out little whimpers and looking absolutely wrecked. 
“S’good. You don’t even know. I can smell you, how wet you are for me from here. I can hear how fast your heart is beating just for me… And every time you touch me my skin feels like it’s on fire. I’m so sensitive… so hard,” he emphasizes with a harsh thrust against your clothed skin, “You’re literally heavenly. Intoxicating. The best thing I’ve ever felt. I need you. I’ve never needed anything more.” He looks scared that you might deny him, though you couldn’t in a million years imagine denying him, especially not now.
You spread your legs for him, allowing him the opportunity to slot between them. He pulls himself into you and moans as you spread wet open-mouthed kisses against his neck. You lick a stripe upwards from his collarbone to his jaw and he clutches you tight, hips stuttering. 
His hands are in your hair, embedded into your scalp and he pulls tight, baring your neck for him. Your moan is breathy and light as he presses his lips to your skin, not sinking his teeth into you like you had thought. He sucks harsh bruises into your neck and the offending area then softens each spot with his tongue. When he moves back to admire his handiwork, he smiles. You’re covered with large purple splotches all over. You’re his, undeniably so. 
He pulls off your shorts and underwear in one swift motion, maneuvering your hips and holding you upwards so that he has full access to your glistening core. He really was right about you being wet for him, and you don’t have time to be embarrassed by the statement he made of being able to smell it before he’s diving in, his face directly at your entrance. He wastes no time before licking, sucking, and swirling his tongue around you. 
“Too much, Innie, too fast!” You whine out, trying to push his head away. He doesn’t budge nor indicate that he felt your actions; you couldn’t move away from him. He was in control, and you, forced to take every ounce of pleasure he delegates. 
“Mm, baby… I’ve been away from this pussy for too long… God you taste so, so good.” A loud slurping sound comes from his mouth and you’re in the right mind to be embarrassed from such a filthy sound. You cover your face but your hand is by your side just as fast, his bruising grip around your wrist holding you in place. “Don’t,” he warns. “Want to see your face as I ruin you. Want to hear every moan, wanna hear your heart beat this fast just for me, baby.” He was adamant about getting you to fall apart for him on his tongue, and so you do; you cum on with a loud moan and he laps up your release and holds your trembling thighs in place with ease. 
As you look at him he wipes away the wetness on his face, eyes gazing into you. He freezes in place as you drop onto your knees in front of him and grab onto his waistband. 
“Are you sure?” He stammers, already affected by your small lingering touch. 
“We’ve been away for too long,” you say, repeating his words from earlier. “Need to taste your cock again.” You pull down his pants and reveal his length, hard and throbbing and begging to be touched. It’s already releasing precum from when he was grinding into you earlier, and you lap it up eagerly. His hand places a bruising grip in your hair, close to its roots, which encourages you to continue with your ministrations.  
“Shit,” he curses as you wrap your lips around him, flicking your tongue against his tip. “Baby your mouth feels so fucking good, so wet. God I could bust right now,” he says. He uses his hands to hold the sides of your head, guiding your mouth up and down his length, essentially letting him use your face like a toy for his pleasure. Your lips wrap around him and you let spit run down your face, coating your chin. You blink up at him through teary eyes and you know that you look probably just as wrecked as he does, the epitome of a perfect disaster created just for him. 
He bucks his hips into your face for a few seconds and then pulls away quickly. You drop to the floor, breathing heavily, looking up at the man. He pants and holds himself up against the bed with one arm, trying to ground himself. 
“Shit baby, I’ve never felt anything that good in my life…” He breathes. “Only you… But it feels better now, you feel so good… Let me fuck your pretty pussy, baby. Please.” He begs even though he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t have to ask you twice before you’re laying on the bed, legs spread open wide for him. Still sensitive from your previous orgasm, you whine as he pushes into you slowly. He’s long, just like you remember him, but he’s so hard and you can already feel him pulsing inside of you. As he bottoms out and his hips grind against your clit, you feel yourself contracting against his length. You two remain unmoving but the room already sounds so dirty just from your pathetic moans and heavy breathing. Your heart beats wildly in your chest and it makes you smile knowing he can hear it, that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. 
He starts moving, slow but deep. Within four hard strokes he’s already releasing deep inside you, and you both gasp. In all the time you had been with him, he had never cum inside before–but now that he’s turned it doesn’t matter. As he fills you up you’re overflowing and he’s crying when you look at him. He moans vehemently but his hips aren’t slowing down; if anything, they speed up as he continues to fuck his release into you, sloppy and hard. He whines at the overstimulation he’s caused himself and looks like his pleasure is mixed with pain. His hips snap into you harder than anything you’ve ever felt before, the head of his cock pushing right against your g-spot every time. 
He reaches his fingers down and swipes up the release from where the two of you connect, gathering it on his fingers and bringing it to your mouth. It’s reminiscent of the scene just minutes ago, you think as you suck his release off of his fingers. His eyes are boring into yours and drinking up every reaction, every scrunch of your face and twitch of pleasure, and it drives you insane with both pleasure and desire to be so seen by someone you’re so in love with. 
You notice his hands gripping the edge of the bed, his knuckles ghost-white. 
“Bite me,” you say, suddenly. His hips stutter at your words, all confidence immediately gone. 
“What? I can’t–” 
“Jeongin, love, I trust you more than any other living soul on this planet,” you say through uneven breaths. “God, this body was yours before and it’s yours now. Stop holding back and make me yours again. Please,” You say. 
His teeth sink into your neck and you let out a sharp cry; you feel shock moreso than pain, and as he drinks languidly from your neck, taking just what he needs, you cum around his cock. His fingernails dig into your skin and his hips snap into yours brutally, ripping your orgasm out of you in the most intense spasm of pain and pleasure you’ve ever felt in your life. Adrenaline courses through your veins and your ears are ringing, blinded by the intensity of it all, because Jeongin isn’t holding back, because you’ve broken down his walls, you think as he cums into you for the second time that night. 
He laps up the remaining blood that has dribbled down your neck as his hips still into you and you still pulse around him from the aftershocks. When you look at him you're wiping his tears away, and he wipes away yours. 
“Thank you,” he says, holding you as close to his body as can possibly be. “You make me feel like I’m still human.” 
“That’s because you are,” you whisper into his hair. “Your humanity is something you never lost.” 
He hums in approval and you fall asleep in his arms that night, closer in mind and body than ever before.  ***  “I see you and I.N. got back together!” Your best friend laughs as the two of you walk to class together the next day. You haven’t told her anything, how would she know? She sees your shocked expression. “Look at your neck, geez, what is he, a vampire? God damn,” she emphasizes her words by pointing at the large bruises you did a poor job of covering up. You laugh at her words a little too hard, knowing that she will never know that she wasn’t that far off from the truth. That was a secret for you and Jeongin to share. *** Masterlist Recs
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bitchesgetriches · 8 months ago
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{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Repairing Our Busted-Ass World
On poverty:
Starting from nothing
How To Start at Rock Bottom: Welfare Programs and the Social Safety Net 
How to Save for Retirement When You Make Less Than $30,000 a Year
Ask the Bitches: “Is It Too Late to Get My Financial Shit Together?“
Understanding why people are poor
It’s More Expensive to Be Poor Than to Be Rich
Why Are Poor People Poor and Rich People Rich?
On Financial Discipline, Generational Poverty, and Marshmallows
Bitchtastic Book Review: Hand to Mouth by Linda Tirado
Is Gentrification Just Artisanal, Small-Batch Displacement of the Poor?
Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 1: Healthcare, Housing, and Labor Rights
Developing compassion for poor people
The Latte Factor, Poor Shaming, and Economic Compassion
Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Stop Myself from Judging Homeless People?“
The Subjectivity of Wealth, Or: Don’t Tell Me What’s Expensive
A Little Princess: Intersectional Feminist Masterpiece?
If You Can’t Afford to Tip 20%, You Can’t Afford to Dine Out
Correcting income inequality
1 Easy Way All Allies Can Help Close the Gender and Racial Pay Gap
One Reason Women Make Less Money? They’re Afraid of Being Raped and Killed.
Raising the Minimum Wage Would Make All Our Lives Better
Are Unions Good or Bad?
On intersectional social issues:
Reproductive rights
On Pulling Weeds and Fighting Back: How (and Why) to Protect Abortion Rights
How To Get an Abortion 
Blood Money: Menstrual Products for Surviving Your Period While Poor
You Don’t Have to Have Kids
Gender equality
1 Easy Way All Allies Can Help Close the Gender and Racial Pay Gap 
The Pink Tax, Or: How I Learned to Love Smelling Like “Bearglove”
Our Single Best Piece of Advice for Women (and Men) on International Women’s Day
Bitchtastic Book Review: The Feminist Financial Handbook by Brynne Conroy
Sexual Harassment: How to Identify and Fight It in the Workplace 
Queer issues
Queer Finance 101: Ten Ways That Sexual and Gender Identity Affect Finances
Leaving Home before 18: A Practical Guide for Cast-Offs, Runaways, and Everybody in Between
Racial justice
The Financial Advantages of Being White
Woke at Work: How to Inject Your Values into Your Boring, Lame-Ass Job
The New Jim Crow, by Michelle Alexander: A Bitchtastic Book Review
Something Is Wrong in Personal Finance. Here’s How To Make It More Inclusive.
The Biggest Threat to Black Wealth Is White Terrorism
Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 2: Racial and Gender Inequality 
10 Rad Black Money Experts to Follow Right the Hell Now 
Youth issues
What We Talk About When We Talk About Student Loans
The Ugly Truth About Unpaid Internships
Ask the Bitches: “I Just Turned 18 and My Parents Are Kicking Me Out. How Do I Brace Myself?”
Identifying and combatting abuse
When Money is the Weapon: Understanding Intimate Partner Financial Abuse
Are You Working on the Next Fyre Festival?: Identifying a Toxic Workplace
Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Say ‘No’ When a Loved One Asks for Money… Again?”
Ask the Bitches: I Was Guilted Into Caring for a Sick, Abusive Parent. Now What?
On mental health:
Understanding mental health issues
How Mental Health Affects Your Finances
Stop Recommending Therapy Like It’s a Magic Bean That’ll Grow Me a Beanstalk to Neurotypicaltown
Bitchtastic Book Review: Kurt Vonnegut’s Galapagos and Your Big Brain
Ask the Bitches: “How Do I Protect My Own Mental Health While Still Helping Others?”
Coping with mental health issues
{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Self-Care
My 25 Secrets to Successfully Working from Home with ADHD 
Our Master List of 100% Free Mental Health Self-Care Tactics 
On saving the planet:
Changing the system
Don’t Boo, Vote: If You Don’t Vote, No One Can Hear You Scream
Ethical Consumption: How to Pollute the Planet and Exploit Labor Slightly Less
The Anti-Consumerist Gift Guide: I Have No Gift to Bring, Pa Rum Pa Pum Pum
Season 1, Episode 4: “Capitalism Is Working for Me. So How Could I Hate It?”
Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 1: Healthcare, Housing, and Labor Rights 
Coronavirus Reveals America’s Pre-existing Conditions, Part 2: Racial and Gender Inequality 
Shopping smarter
You Deserve Cheap Toilet Paper, You Beautiful Fucking Moon Goddess
You Are above Bottled Water, You Elegant Land Mermaid
Fast Fashion: Why It’s Fucking up the World and How To Avoid It
You Deserve Cheap, Fake Jewelry… Just Like Coco Chanel
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voluptuarian · 21 days ago
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another thing that's weird about adults who make an identity out of reading children's books is what they hold up as representative of the values they find in YA/young reader's fiction. They typically bring up wish fulfillment fantasy, morals and clear cut lessons, adventure stories with mild peril, strong centering on friendship and found family, and stories that make them "feel good" and are extremely light on genuinely challenging themes or ethically dubious situations.
Meanwhile when I was neck-deep in YA as a kid in the 90s and early 2000s this was the kind of stuff I was reading, other kids were reading, and that was winning awards, being highlighted on shelves and recommended by librarians:
Hatchet by Gary Paulsen, in which a teenage boy survives a plane crash and is stranded in the Canadian wilderness and forced to survive on his own for months. He is ultimately rescued but is permanently altered by the experience. His navigating the drama of (I believe either currently separating or recently divorced) parents is also a major plot element.
Virtual War by Gloria Skurzynski, where real-life wars have been eradicated and instead are fought virtually, (inspired, if I remember correctly, by the disastrous results of a previous nuclear conflict) by specially chosen champions who are trained in combat strategy from childhood. Throughout, the three child champions are forced to question and push back against what the government has told them is the truth as well as against their own prejudices, including toward one of their own who is considered a "mutant" due to his dwarfism; it also details the grueling hours-long "war" in which the kids watch thousands of little 3D soldiers get blown up and dismembered and leaves them feeling genuine guilt for participating in.
Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George, which focuses on a teenage Inuit girl who is orphaned, forced into marriage and sexually assaulted, then runs away and ends up lost in the Arctic and survives by befriending and living with a pack of wolves.
Out of the Dust by Karen Hesse, in which the heroine lives with her parents on a failing farm as the Dust Bowl is beginning, accidentally sets her pregnant mother on fire resulting in her mother's lingering death and the death of her baby, and the girl herself being permanently maimed, after which she and her father become estranged and she eventually tries to run away.
Summer of My German Soldier by Bette Greene, which follows a young Jewish American girl on the WWII homefront who befriends (and falls in love with) a German POW, and when he escapes, hides him in her home for months; eventually the prisoner is caught and killed and the girl is sent to prison after being ostracized from the community and disowned by her parents.
The Ramsey Scallop by Francis Temple, where the heroine, engaged since childhood to her current fiance, is sent on a pilgrimage with him as way of working out his trauma from serving in the crusades. Neither of them feels ready to get married and the fiance is dubious about doing much living at all, but they're able to get to know each other and build trust on the road. It's been ages since I read it but I'm pretty sure there's a scene where a hot single guy who helps patch up an injury she sustained then offers to have sex with her, which she decides to turn down.
Music of the Dolphins by Karen Hesse, where a feral child who has been raised by a pod of dolphins is rescued and taken to a center for rehabilitation. The whole thing follows her progress at understanding to how to be human, and eventually her decision to reject it all and go back to her dolphin family.
The Last Book In the Universe by Rodman Philbrick, whose hero is a teenage orphan living in a purposely abandoned dystopia, ostracized by his community for being epileptic, whose only friends are an old man who is the last literate person in the community and a monosyllabic feral child. The split between the have-nots and the haves, who live in sheltered futuristic cities, and discussion of privilege (one of the main characters is a girl from the cities who comes out to do charity work in the dystopian district) are major themes, and violence is a regular occurrence, including toward the finale when the boy's mentor is murdered by a mob while he watches.
(And of course there's Among the Hidden and its sequels by Margaret Peterson Haddix which I never read, but my sister did, and I know at some point a whole bunch of child characters are massacred by the government because it upset my sister so badly she cried.)
And I couldn't forget The Dear America series, which includes:
character who is finishing high school as the Vietnam War begins and watches her social circle split nastily over the issue, lives through classmates and friends getting drafted, and ends up working at a hospital as volunteer where she is assigned to help disabled veterans
character whose mother (and I think siblings), as well as numerous fellow travelers die while traveling alongside her on the Oregon Trail, and later accidentally poisons to death several of her friends after picking a look-alike plant for their dinner; only one survives, who she eventually marries
character who is kidnapped by a local native tribe and eventually adopted, then marries a fellow captive, only for him and other friends and family to be killed when the tribe is attacked by Europeans, putting her into a total crisis of identity and conflicting loyalties
character who is taken from her tribe to be put in residential school, during which she is forcefully acculturated, severely bullied by another classmate, and a childhood friend of hers is accidentally buried alive
multiple books about immigrants in the 1800 and 1900s which highlighted struggles with poverty, cultural pressures, and prejudice; one of them follows a pro-union factory worker who watches as multiple friends die in the Triangle Shirtwaist fire, and another whose father imports her to America at 13 to marry a coal miner
most of these stories emphasize the young protagonist ending up in situations were they are either on their own, or so alienated from the adults around them that they might as well be. The protagonists have to assume the adult duty of taking care of themselves, but also of thinking for themselves and making their own decisions and judgements about their lives and the world.
they are also going through big changes, often ones created by their parent's decisions, and which they frequently dislike or are straight up Bad for them. This contrasts with later, when the protagonists are able to make decisions for themselves-- often this comes through hardship and abandonment, but ultimately allows them to control their narrative going forward.
the setting and events are often harrowing, deeply unpleasant, and put the protagonist and their friends in danger of victimization by forces around them. Obviously this is exciting for kids to read, but it also allows them to see someone their age on their own, entering into Adult situations and taking on that role. It's also a break from the overtly positive or cartoonishly (but usually un-seriously) bad circumstances that dominate younger kids fiction and an introduction to the idea that life is just terrible most of the time, sometimes massively and unbelievably so. (It's going from the early childhood story of Madeline's thrilling adventures escaping forced labor in a factory, to the older kid's or YA story of seeing the protagonist work at one day after day, getting injured, having friends get sick, and then watching a girl's scalp get ripped off by the machine, something which creates not excitement but genuine horror and sympathy.) These plots also allow adolescents a chance to experience Big Emotions (like the ones they're about to fall head-first into themselves) in a stable, safe way. All of this aims to create a bridge from the juvenile reality to the genuine, adult one. Trite moral lessons are dispensed with in favor of allowing the child to go out and start thinking for themselves. And especially in stories like the Dear America books, it allows a look at things that happened in the past that we have, or should learn from, but also allows for a fuller emotional, ethical, and empathetic development.
often the introduction of sex is part of the story, from initial experiences of attraction (and the resulting self-consciousness, jealousy, etc.) but also sometimes actual sexual experience. Especially in the historical stories, marriage is also frequently part of the story-- either again, as a fantasy introduction to adult experiences, or as a realistic detail separating a child's historical experience from current ones and creating a better understanding of the hardships historical people went through.
and most include some form of rejection of prevailing authority and thought. Instead of blindly "doing what your parents tell you to" these protagonists must do what they think is practical or ethical. The boy in Hatchet cannot wait for an authority figure to guide him, he must figure out how to survive entirely on his own, while the kids in Virtual War are old enough to begin questioning the entire structure they've been raised in, and to develop empathy for figures that structure has deemed outsiders; the heroine of Music of the Dolphins decides the entire experience of being in human society is not for her, and returns to living with animals.
So these books offer harrowing circumstances, protagonists who are isolated literally or through moral or political alignment, and who must learn to live on their own and make decisions for themselves, often in defiance of prevailing attitudes. They usually emphasize finding one's place (even if that place is completely alone and unsupported), fostering understanding and sympathy with others, even with people who are considered "undesirable," who are different, or who have behaved badly to you in the past. And they frequently involve violence, budding sexuality, exploitation and abuse by authority figures/structures, and a heaping helping of death, including the deaths of beloved friends and family members. What is "feel good" and "unchallenging" about that? And like, I can't speak for what YA is bringing to the table now, but these people are overwhelmingly adults, they were reading YA at around the same time I was, I don't think it would be possible for them to have somehow missed the plethora of books with these hallmarks. So where did they get this idea that YA is some land of comfort where no complicated idea can ever reach you? Even Harry Potter is full of them, and we know they read that!
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