#you don't need to be perfect you just need to try

[thoughtfulfiction]

Operation: Den Prep

Author’s note: I feel like Joe is very dramatic about things he can’t control and impending parenthood is definitely chaotic. Hope you enjoy this fluffy piece!

All you wanted to do was take a nap. You weren't asking for much. Just an hour, maybe an hour and a half of uninterrupted sleep.

But no. That would be too easy.

The cars that lined the driveway couldn't be a sign of anything good. Joe wasn't really one to throw parties, and with exactly four weeks before the baby's due date he wasn't exactly the most chill or relaxed man in America. If anything, the cars were a sign that you wouldn't be getting that nap in any time soon.

A gigantic sigh leaves your body when you walk in the door. There are people—strangers— in your home, scrubbing every square inch of the place.

"Joe?" You call out, attempting to scoot past the people dusting the vents.

"He's upstairs in his office," a woman responds kindly, in the midst of scrubbing baseboards. Your friend Nikki, who was with you all day, stares at everyone in shock before helping you up the stairs.

You caught your breath a little while running your hand over your baby bump, feeling like you climbed Everest. Nikki knocks on the door and waits for Joe's voice, telling you two to come in. Your husband was seated at his desk, highlighting sections of The Expectant Father: The Ultimate Guide for Dads-to-Be, surrounded by several other parenting books.

"Joseph..." Nikki begins since you still can't breathe. “What the hell is going on here?"

"Language," Joe says without looking up from his book, "he can hear you."

Nikki turns to look at you and you shake your head, not wanting to get in the middle of it right now. Your eyes were telling her to just focus on one problem at a time, the biggest issue at hand being the cleaning crew taking over the house. She seems to agree. "Okay, let me try that again," he nods, finally looking up, a disinterested look on his face. “Don't know if you know this but, there are people downstairs treating your home like it's a warzone on germs."

"I know. I hired them to do exactly that. Because it is." He says in a matter of fact tone. “I want everything to be perfect when the baby comes home. The house needs to be as clean as possible so he has a safe environment.”

“Joe, this isn’t prepping for the end of days. You realize babies don’t come out demanding hospital-grade cleanliness, right?” Nikki jokes, leaning against the doorframe.

Joe doesn't find it funny. “Do you even know how many germs are in the average house? I read it’s millions. Millions, Nicole. I’m not risking it.”

You sigh, walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. He was adorable when he got like this—focused, determined, and completely over the top. It was endearing, but you could already tell you'd have to reel him in before he booked a hazmat team to inspect the nursery. “Joe, I appreciate what you’re doing. I really do. But we’re supposed to be relaxing these last few weeks, not running ourselves into the ground.”

“You’re the one who should be relaxing,” Joe said, standing and gently guiding you to sit in his chair. “You’re growing a human being. That’s a full-time job. I can handle everything else.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Joe, I don’t need you to handle everything. We’re a team, remember? And besides, I don’t want you burning yourself out before he even gets here.”

“I’m fine,” Joe insisted, his tone firm but caring. "I promise. I just...want everything to be right for him. He’s going to depend on us for everything, you know?”

Nikki sat down on the couch in the corner of the office, still grinning. “I’m not gonna lie, this is kind of impressive. Most dads just install the car seat and call it a day. But you? You’re basically turning this place into a baby-friendly, germ-free utopia."

Joe shot her a look but didn’t argue as you let out a yawn. "Are you tired?" He rushes out, "they should be done in our room, you can go take a nap if you need it. I was serious about you getting some rest."

"And so was I about you getting some rest. We won't be sleeping as much when he gets here so getting a head start on sleepless nights isn't the wisest business decision."

"Okay," Joe folds the corner of the page that he's on and stands up, kissing you on the side of the head. "What if...we kick Nikki and the cleaners out and we go take a nap?"

"Um hello?" Nikki waves her hand in the air, "still here, in the room, with both of you. I can hear everything you're saying."

Joe doesn’t bother acknowledging her, his eyes focused on you as you nod with a laugh. “I love you, Nik, but he’s right. I need to lie down before I collapse.”

Nikki smirks, standing and brushing imaginary dust off her jeans. “You’re so lucky you’re carrying my baby, Y/N. Go take your little nap, I’ll see myself out.” She pokes Joe in the chest as she passes. “Joe, co-parenting with you is going to suck, but I gotta admit—you’re going to be a killer dad. You just don’t need to stress yourself into a heart attack to prove it.”

Joe rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. "For the last time, it's OUR baby. Not yours. There is no co-parenting."

"Sure," Nikki smiles, patting him on the back, "sure buddy. Whatever helps you sleep at night. By the way, good luck kicking out the cleaners. I'm pretty sure one of them is power-washing your oven.”

She’s gone before Joe can reply, leaving you shaking with laughter as he mutters, “I’m changing the locks tomorrow.”

When you woke up from your nap, Joe was gone. You found him downstairs, scrolling through the notes on his iPad, intense focus that you'd really only seen when he was going over film. It was heartwarming to see that he was taking impending fatherhood as seriously as he took his job. In a way, being a dad was like taking on another job. With endless hours, no days off and no pay. But the rewards? They were going to be worth everything.

Sinking into the spot next to him, you leaned your head against his shoulder. “What are you up to?”

"Going over the checklist," he replied, his hand automatically resting on your belly, absentmindedly tracing small circles with his thumb. "We've got a bunch of deliveries coming tomorrow to get the nursery done which will probably take a couple days. Then we need to start getting the fridge stocked and pack our hospital bags. I was also thinking we do a trial run to the birth center."

"A trial run? Why?"

“I need to time it,” he said, his fingers still drumming softly against your bump. “Traffic could be bad, you’ll be in pain, and I’d rather not have to deliver a baby in the car. I mean, I can learn how to, but I’d rather not.”

You couldn’t help but smile as his focus shifted momentarily, his hand now lightly tapping your belly like he was sending a secret code. “Joe, we’ll be fine. We’ll get there when we get there. Not everything is gonna go to plan so let’s not waste time but trying to plan out every detail.”

“I hear you and I get what you’re saying but I’d rather be overprepared than caught off guard,” he muttered, flipping to a new note with his free hand. His other stayed firmly planted on your stomach, as though he could steady the world by keeping a connection to the little life inside. “Oh, and dinner with our parents tomorrow…that’s going to be something.”

"Be nice. They mean well," you reminded him, nudging his arm.

“Sure, but last week my dad said something about bourbon on baby gums helping with teething. I had to pretend to choke so I wouldn’t laugh in his face,” Joe said with a soft laugh of his own. Then, without thinking, he leaned down and whispered against your belly, “Just ignore your grandpa, buddy. We’ll do teething the right way.”

Your heart swelled at the gesture, and you reached out to thread your fingers through his hair. “Joe, you’re already such a good dad, you know that?”

His eyes softened as he looked up at you, his hand still cradling your bump. “I just want to get it right, for him… and for you.”

"You will. And you know how I know?" He shakes his head, his eyes locked in on you, searching for your answer. "Because once you put your mind to something, you don't let anything or anyone stop you."

For a moment, he’s quiet, his gaze softening before he speaks. “You’re gonna be a great mom, you know that?” He reiterates your words, his voice is barely above a whisper as he leans in, sneaking a kiss.

Your laugh is light, but your heart swells as he places his lips on yours one more time. “Kid’s pretty lucky,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours as he pulls back. “And he doesn’t even know it yet.”

The rest of the evening is spent ironing out some minor details of Joe's fool proof baby plans.

Your husband is not the handiest person in the world. He's more of a "I'll hire someone who's more qualified" kind of guy. Exhibit A? Full time chef so he doesn't have to cook. Exhibit B? Full time cleaning staff. To be honest, he probably doesn't know how to change a tire. But he also probably has access to triple A and one phone call from Joe Burrow might actually have everyone working that day rushing out to answer the call. With all that being said, you assumed that putting together furniture would not be something he'd be inclined to do. And then a few weeks ago he, Jimmy and your dad spent three hours building a custom Bellini crib. Now that he had a taste of satisfaction in knowing that he put it together with his own hands, he wanted to build everything in the baby's nursery.

Today's project consisted of your dad, Jimmy and Joe putting together a bunch of things that were delivered while you, your mom and Robin sorted through baby clothes and collected freshly washed laundry to place in his closet. Every tiny sock and little hat sent butterflies in your stomach at the thought of your own tiny person wearing these clothes in just a few short weeks. It was both daunting and exciting.

Throughout the day, more people were walking into the house, Ja'Marr came in first since he pretty much lived next door. Sam showed up 30 minutes later, a tool-kit in hand. A few high school friends even drove from Athens to help.

"Guess Joe called in the calvary." Robin says with a laugh, putting the onesies she just pulled out of the dryer in neat stacks to count and fold.

A few hours later, the three of you took a look at the inventory laid out before you. Your son probably had enough clothes to last him through four outfit changes a day for the next few months. You mentally reminded yourself to cut everyone off from buying any more articles of clothing until further notice.

The doorbell rang and Joe magically appeared downstairs to answer it, his Jeff Ruby's catering order had arrived. A few staff members carried in all the food and Joe thanked them on their way out. Before you could even ask, he said "you don't think they're all working for free do you? Had to give them a few incentives." You simply shook your head, a smile forming on your lips as he disappeared upstairs again.

When the guys were finally done, everyone gathered downstairs to eat dinner, casually chatting about life, Ja'Marr giving a recap of his offseason so far and what trips he had planned. Everything was actually normal until your mom spoke up.

"So, who are you guys gonna have in the delivery room with you?"

Joe nudged you under the table with his knee, giving you a look like "here we go."

"Um...we're still finalizing details of the birth plan. I was just thinking me and Joe for now, the less people seeing me at my worst, the better," you joke, trying to keep it light.

"Well what about visitors?" Robin chimes in. “How soon after are we going to be able to meet the little one?"

"We were thinking the next day. Gives us time to settle in, get some sleep and then have you guys meet him," Joe says casually. That seems to satisfy all parties, your parents nod in understanding and you breathe out a sigh of relief that the conversation doesn't go any further.

Pretty soon after dinner, most of the guests are gone and Joe asks if you want to see the nursery. You immediately hold out your arms and let him lift you to your feet, keeping a hand on the small of your back until you reach the room. Before he opens the door he covers your eyes with his other hand. "You ready?"

"Yes," you let out a small laugh, the anticipation eating away at you, "you've been hyping up these packages for weeks let's see what you’ve done."

"Alright," you hear him open the door and he guides you inside by the hand, still keeping your eyes covered. "3...2...1."

Some of the big things had already been put together. The walls had been painted, the closet space was set up, Joe had brought an LED starry-night ceiling projector (on top of the chandelier that was already in the room) and a sleek, modern changing table with a with several gadgets you weren’t ready to mess with. Yes it was too much. No, he wasn't going to return any of it.

Your eyes scanned the room: a plush, white rug that looked too soft to step on without socks, a glider that seemed to have more tech features than your car, and a Dyson purifier glowing faintly in the corner. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of all the hands that had come together to make it perfect. “He’s not even here yet, and he’s already so loved,” you said, your voice catching slightly.

"He definitely is," Joe says happily, knowing he and his team nailed it. "Come on, I'll give you a tour." He gestures toward the window, "blackout curtains. I read that they can help babies and toddlers sleep better. They can also help regulate the temperature and reduce noise. For temperature though, I got a Dyson obviously, it's supposed to be the best.” He walks you over to the next spot. “Over here we have the changing table."

"Does this...have a built in warming pad for wipes?"

"Yeah isn't it great?” He beams, “so his little butt is warm when we change him in the middle of the night."

You let out a soft laugh at how much of a softie he already is for someone he hasn’t met yet. "He's gonna be mad we're changing him either way, warm wipes or not. But I know you’ll be using it so it’s fine.”

He opens the top drawer of the changing table, "I put some miscellaneous stuff in here. All organic. Silk-blend crib sheets, swaddles, and burp cloths that I washed yesterday so they're ready to use. Over here is the feeding station and the mini fridge, which I'm really excited about."

"Why do we need a mini fridge in the nursery?"

"Think about this. I'm on overnight baby duty and you're catching up on sleep. Our baby is sobbing because he's hungry. Instead of making him wait while I go downstairs and grab a bottle, we just have the bottles in here. And then this little compartment on this side is a freezer so we can have milk storage bags in here too since the bottle warmer is right there. And watch this,” Joe said, pressing a button on the bottle warmer. “It’s like a Formula 1 pit stop but for babies. Two minutes tops, and he’s good to go.” You raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh at his comparison.

"You know what? I'm not mad at it. Keep going."

"Right next to the fridge is the actual feeding station so we've got a couple pillows here next to the chair, burp clothes and then a little table in case whoever is in here needs water or to set something down. White noise machine is over here. You gotta play with the setting there's like 100 sound options and custom settings. The baby monitor is cool too, it has HD video, two-way audio, sleep analytics, the whole nine.” Joe pick up the expensive contraption. “Here, let me show you some of the noise machine settings."

He was too excited for you to decline, so you motioned for him to go ahead. "This one is ocean waves," he said, hitting a button. A soft crash of waves echoed through the room. "And this is rainforest sounds. Oh, and this one—"

"OW!" you yelped, clutching your belly and bending forward slightly.

Joe froze mid-button press, the sound of chirping birds now filling the nursery. "What? What happened? Is it happening?" His voice rose an octave as he practically leapt across the room to you.

You couldn’t help but laugh through the sharp jolt of pain, waving him off with one hand. "Relax, Joe. It’s not labor. It’s uh...lightning crotch."

"Lightning what?" His panicked expression turned to utter confusion, and he blinked at you like you’d just spoken a foreign language.

"It’s this sharp, sudden pain down there," you explained, gesturing vaguely toward your lower half. "Totally normal. Just your kid punching my nerves like one of those UFC fighters you're obsessed with."

Joe stared at you, wide-eyed. "That’s a thing? That’s allowed? Why does no one tell dads about this stuff?"

You shrugged, still giggling as you slowly straightened up. "Welcome to pregnancy. Every day’s a surprise," you reassure him, patting him on the back.

Joe ran a hand through his hair, looking genuinely rattled. "Okay, so let me get this straight. So far, there’s morning sickness, swollen ankles, back pain, weird cravings, and now lightning crotch? What’s next? Spontaneous combustion?"

"Would you calm down?" you teased, reaching for his hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. "It’s not that bad. Just part of the process."

Joe let out a dramatic sigh, muttering, "You’re making a whole person, and I can’t even keep up with the symptoms."

"You’re doing great, babe," you said with a smirk. "Now, are you gonna show me what’s in the next drawer, or should I add 'Joe having a meltdown' to my list of pregnancy side effects?"

That earned a laugh from him, and he shook his head, pulling himself together. "Fine. But I’m looking this lightning crotch thing up later," he said, giving you a playful glare before opening the next drawer.

Joe is going through the various assortment of baby blankets but what catches your eye is the bookcase. You step closer to it, running your fingers over the leather-bound spines. "Are these…first editions of Goodnight Moon and Oh the Places You’ll Go?"

"Collector's editions," Joe corrected with a sheepish shrug. "My mom used to read these to me,” Joe explained, his voice soft. “I figured…maybe I could do the same for him. Only with the fanciest versions, of course.”

"Of course,” you affirm. “You're adorable. This place is...a lot. But it's genuinely perfect Joe, you guys did an amazing job, thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, I should be thanking you. You're making us parents soon."

"I know. Being in here and seeing it finished makes it feel more real. There's gonna be an actual person using this stuff. That's insane."

He grabs your hand and leads you out of the room, "it is insane. And I can't wait. I wonder what he's gonna look like."

"I hope he looks like you, that would be so adorable. Having a tiny version of you would be a dream."

Joe chuckled, a soft, boyish sound that made your heart flutter. "You’re setting the bar pretty high for this kid," he teased, then paused, his expression turning serious for a moment. "But really, no matter what he looks like I know he'll be perfect."

The two of you stood there in the quiet of the hallway, the soft hum of the mini fridge in the nursery the only sound. For a moment, everything felt perfectly still—just the two of you, on the edge of an adventure that would change your lives forever.

You said goodbye to the last of your visitors and you turned around to Joe standing in the middle of the living room holding a notepad and a pen. "Where did you even get that, weren’t you just hugging your mom?"

"I had it on the coffee table. We’re supposed to watch the video for our prenatal class, remember?"

"Right now?" You ask, looking at your phone. It was only 9pm but it felt like at least one in the morning. You felt like Joe with his strict bedtime during the season.

He nods, already reaching for the remote. "I have big plans for us tomorrow so yeah, now is the perfect time."

"Alright, put it on." You relax into him, grabbing your blanket. "You're really gonna take notes?"

"Yeah. This is for educational purposes, I need any helpful tips I can get."

"You're sure you're gonna be able to watch and write things down? I don't want to scare you but, it might be intense."

"Babe, I get chased by grown men who want to take my head off for a living. Intense is my middle name," he places the notebook on the table and ditches the writing utensil, lazily placing his arm around you before starting the video. "You know what? I might not even take notes this time, I'll probably watch it again in my office in a few weeks when we get closer to the due date and take notes then."

You shrug, letting him do his thing. "Whatever you say, babe."

Joe's relaxed posture slowly turned a bit more tense as the video went on, the graphic image of the baby crowning was unfortunately going to be engrained in his memory for a long time. You had to stifle a laugh as his usual cool, calm, and collected demeanor cracked like a fine china plate dropped onto tile.

"Is...is that what we're gonna go through? What you're gonna go through?" His voice was shaky, as though he’d seen a ghost.

"Yup," you emphasized the ‘p’ sound. "That right there is the beauty of childbirth Joseph." You could practically feel his discomfort radiating off him.

"Oh my god." Joe muttered, his eyes wide in disbelief as he tried to mentally recover.

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder. "You know, it’s not all that bad. It's just...well, it’s a lot. And it’s very messy.”

He blinked at the screen, still not sure how to process what he’d just witnessed. "Right, sure, a lot. Just—" He exhaled dramatically, trying to find words. "I need a drink. I don't even like alcohol. Or we should maybe just call it a night and go to sleep. I need maybe a small...break from the miracle of life."

You chuckled, wrapping yourself up in the blanket and snuggling into his side. "Welcome to parenthood, Joe. Just wait until you're actually in the room. This was just the trailer."

Joe leaned back, a hand on his forehead as he processed the visual overload. "Little man needs to stay in there a little longer. I'm not ready to watch that horror film."

After declaring that the two of you needed a break from baby stuff, you and Joe took it easy the next day, diving into a true crime marathon after he came home from his morning workout. It was the perfect distraction from all the overwhelming baby prep. But today, he was back at it—better than ever.

"Did you know that newborns don’t have kneecaps? They have cartilage where they should be. They don’t get kneecaps until later."

"Wait what?" you ask, clearly confused.

"Yeah, I read it this morning, it's crazy. He isn't gonna have knees for weeks. I could've used that trick in 2020," Joe adds nonchalantly, his tone as casual as ever as he brushes off his knee injury from years ago. The way he brings it up so easily makes you laugh.

"What else did you learn?" you ask, your curiosity piqued.

Joe glances over at you, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "I read that dads who are involved early on in caregiving—like diaper changes and feedings—bond with their babies faster and more strongly. So I’m all in on that."

"Baby?" you ask, tilting your head to the side as you look over at him.

Joe pipes up, looking away from his hospital bag, still gathering his things. "Yeah?"

"You didn't have a choice on that one. You were gonna feed him and change his diapers whether you liked it or not," you laugh and easily catch the t-shirt he tosses at you. It just happened to be your favorite one you liked to steal and it smelled just like him. That was definitely coming with you to the hospital.

You stand up from your spot on the floor, checking everything off your list. You had comfy clothes, fuzzy socks, four outfits (just in case), a phone charger, a portable charger, a water bottle and a robe which you'd never worn before but Joe insisted you bring it because what if this was the one time that you actually needed it. "What's in your bag?"

Joe opened the Nike duffel and let you take a look. "Why do you have your backup iPad in here?" you ask, a little puzzled.

"OTAs start two weeks after he's born. I need to glance through stuff and make sure I'm ready," he explains, glancing at you with a shrug.

You roll your eyes playfully. "Fine, but what are these doing in here?" You pull out his Bose noise-canceling headphones. "Are you gonna tune me out while I'm in labor?"

Joe looks at you with wide eyes, practically dropping the headphones in surprise. "What? No!" He quickly pulls out another pair, a sheepish smile on his face. "I brought some for you too, just in case you want to listen to music and, you know, maybe tune me out a little."

"You're really thinking ahead, huh?" you tease, a grin tugging at your lips.

Joe shrugs, his smile growing. "I try."

You nod, crossing your arms. "I mean, I guess we’ll see if those headphones get a workout during the labor part."

Joe gives you a playful look, his tone still light-hearted but his eyes full of genuine excitement. "I’m just saying, if you need a little escape from my endless rambling during contractions, at least you have options."

"Oh Joey, I love you."

“I love you,” he sighs, pulling you into a tight hug, feeling steady kicks against his stomach. "And I love you too, baby boy. Kid can't stand not having the attention on him," he smiles, his voice soft but filled with affection.

"Taking after his dad already?" you tease, the corners of your mouth lifting into a grin.

Joe pulls back slightly, raising an eyebrow with a mock-serious expression. "Now you know that’s just not true."

You chuckle softly, resting your head against his chest. "I guess we’ll see, huh?"

He lets you go and the two of you go through all three bags one more time before Joe announces the next task. "Are you ready for our hospital trial run?"

"I still think it's ridiculous but if it'll make you feel more comfortable then I'm in."

Joe carries all the bags down the stairs, tossing them by the door and has the stopwatch open on his phone. "Okay, here we go." He presses 'start' and grabs the keys and the bags while you stand in the kitchen, taking a sip of water as you waddle to the car.

"Babe, why are you going so slow? We're on a time crunch here."

"Well if you must know, your son is crushing all of her internal organs and grinding my hip bones together. If I walk too fast I’ll pee. And then you'll have to get me new clothes and I'll have to change. That'd be really bad for your time crunch."

He drops it immediately. "Okay you're right, take your time."

Once he helps you in the car he rushes around to the driver's side and buckles in, opening the garage door and pulling out of the driveway. You're holding the phone, watching his time as he drives carefully but efficiently, weaving through the streets like a man on a mission. "What if there's traffic that day?" You ask.

"Then I'll figure it out. I just need ballpark range how long it'll take us to get there." He checks the stopwatch again, the third time in the last five minutes.

"Joe, you don't have to treat this like you’re at the two-minute warning during the Super Bowl when you’re down one score."

His grip tightens on the steering wheel despite your words, his jaw clenching as he glances at you, "better to be safe than sorry."

You shrug, reclining in your seat to take some pressure off your back.

"You good?" He asks gently, his hand finding its way to your leg. "How’s the baby doing?" Joe asks, glancing at you between turns, a hint of concern in his voice. "Should we pull over so you can stretch?"

"No, I'm fine," you sigh, a smile tugging at your lips as you settle in more comfortably. "I could really go for some ice cream right now though."

"We'll get some on the way home," he laughs, a relieved chuckle escaping him. "Call it a reward for a successful trial run."

He pulls into the parking lot of the birth center with a sigh of relief, glancing at his phone in your hand. "13 minutes, not bad at all," he says with a sense of accomplishment.

"Yeah, that's great," you smile, a playful glint in your eyes. "I want a scoop of rocky road and a scoop of raspberry sorbet. In a bowl."

"Together?" he asks, his eyebrows raised in mock disbelief.

"Yes," you reply, grinning.

Joe pulls out of the parking lot, a proud smile on his face as if he just completed an Olympic event. "Mission accomplished. Ice cream in five minutes."

A week later, Joe was going over a food list with his chef Morgan. "For quick snacks, I was thinking Greek yogurt with granola and fruit, hard-boiled eggs—she'll need the protein. Maybe some string cheese or cheese cubes, nut butter with apples or bananas. We’ll definitely need to stock up on protein bars," he lists off items, looking through the fridge and cabinets.

"What‘a going on in here?" You walk into the kitchen and spot Morgan jotting down every word Joe is saying.

Joe looks up and smiles at you but then pauses for a moment, his eyes tracking your every movement as you waddle over to the counter. He raises an eyebrow. "You alright? You're walking like you just got off a horse."

You roll your eyes playfully but feel a grin spread across your face. "Nice to see you’re paying attention."

"Seriously," Joe says, now focused on you with concern. He steps closer, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders as he watches you shuffle around. "That’s a pretty pronounced waddle. You okay?"

"Yup, just one of the perks of carrying a tiny human in there." You shrug, trying to act casual about it, but it's hard to ignore how much effort it takes to move these days.

Morgan, glancing between the two of you, stifles a laugh. "It’s the baby," he explains with a knowing look. "The weight shifts, and her body’s getting ready for the big day."

Joe doesn’t look entirely convinced. "I don’t know, babe," he says, lightly tapping your belly. "Maybe we need to get you some support or something. You shouldn’t have to waddle all over the place. Like one of those belly belt things to help take the weight off your hips.”

You smirk. "Trust me, I’ve got it covered. But thanks for noticing."

Joe looks at you, giving you a soft smile that says he’s both amused and a little concerned. "Yeah, no problem. I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable."

"Thanks, Joe," you tease, giving him a playful nudge before you turn to Morgan, who’s still scribbling on his notepad as Joe turns his away again. "So, what do you have so far?"

Morgan lists off everything he’s written, "Trail mix, chia pudding, pumpkin or sunflower seeds—"

"We never have those in the house," you note, crossing your arms. "Why now?"

"They're high in zinc and other nutrients that support lactation," Joe says simply, not looking up from the fridge.

"That's helpful but I really will probably need fruit, veggie sticks and hummus since you're interesting in me increasing my protein intake, maybe some avocado toast and smoothies too? Keep it simple, Morgan. I’ll also need the lactation cookies I sent you."

"Noted." Morgan says, catching Joe’s shake of his head as you laugh.

"Just get her whatever she wants," Joe sighs, exasperated, but with a fond smile. "I’m actually glad you brought up the cookies, Y/N, because I wanted to run something by you. Both of you, actually."

You sigh, already dreading the conversation, and the chef looks up from his list. "What’s up?"

Joe pulls out a folder from one of the kitchen drawers, showing Morgan the list of the “best” lactation cookie and energy bite recipes he could find.

"Babe," you groan, "I told you that you're overthinking the cookies. They’re just cookies."

“Lactation cookies,” he corrected, already flipping to another recipe. “These are important. They’re, like, your fuel.”

"My apologies your honor," you laugh again, "carry on."

Morgan laughs too and Joe playfully glares at him. "Yeah—yeah, laugh it up guys." He gestures toward the folder, "I highlighted the key ingredients on each recipe.”

The chef raised an eyebrow at the sheer number of recipes. “You want me to make all of these?”

You stand up and take a peak at the extensive list, "you don't have to do that Morgan, just make a few batches of chocolate chip and call it a day," you sense Joe tensing next to you and you rub his back a little, "you're doing that thing again. Where you're freaking out instead of relaxing. You need to relax," you say with a small smile, guiding him back to calm.

You take your eyes off of Joe and focus your attention back on Morgan. "Thank you for never flinching at his insane requests, but if these cookies don’t work out, you can just order some. As long as they have oats, flaxseed, and brewer’s yeast to support milk production, then I should be fine."

Morgan nods, jotting a few more things down before he leaves to head to the grocery store. Joe looks at you, his expression softening. You nod at him, offering a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, you’re not the only one who’s done their research,” you say, nodding your head as his lips twitch into a smile.

"I’m impressed.” He gives you tiny claps, the playful gesture breaking the moment of seriousness. “Speaking of research...I may have one more surprise for you."

"I don't think I can handle anymore surprises," you groan, "can you just tell me what it is?"

"I don't think you know what a surprise is," he laughs rubbing your back, "let me just show you and then I'll leave you alone for the rest of the day."

"That's a lie,” you reply flatly, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Okay, fine. It’s definitely a lie," he admits with a sheepish grin, shrugging like he’s caught red-handed.

Joe takes you to the most unlikely place to reveal a surprise. "Joe...why are we in the bathroom?"

"This is the surprise. Do you see anything different?"

You look around, not sensing anything extremely out of place. Until you see it and tears start pooling in your eyes. "How did you—when did you do this?"

"It's just a little something I put together to make things easier for you when we're home. There's another one in the closet downstairs. I'll move it out so you have easy access when it's time." He pauses, taking a second to collect his thoughts. "I just want to make sure you’re as comfortable as you can be. I know this is going to be tough on you, and I...I want to feel like I’m helping, even if it’s in a small way."

A postpartum station, not the most glamorous gift in the world, but it was one of the most meaningful things he'd ever done for you. Imagining him sitting in his office or sitting up in bed at night doing all this research to ensure you were comfortable made you want to cry. You never thought the sight of adult diapers, nipple cream, and a portable stool could bring you to tears, but here you were, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness behind it all.

Joe gently wipes at a tear that slips down your cheek, his expression softening as he says, ‘hey, don’t cry. I want you to have everything you need. You deserve it."

You blink back the new tears threatening to spill over, shaking your head in disbelief. ‘I can’t believe you thought of all this. Thank you, Joe.

"Pretty much," he shrugs, giving you kiss on the side of the head. "Just one more thing to check off the list."

"And what's that?"

"Bringing him home and having him here, physically with us."

You laugh, resting a hand on your lower belly, on top of Joe's hand. "Oh yeah...that one minor detail."

“Minor detail?!” Joe grins, his eyes bright with amusement. “I think that’s the main event, babe. Let’s hope I don’t need a stopwatch for that one.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, grounding you in the moment, “Thank you, Joe. For this…for thinking of everything. If you’re this amazing now, I can’t wait to see you as a dad.”

His expression softens, his gaze dropping to your belly as if imagining the tiny life inside. “I just want to make sure you both have everything you need,” he says quietly. He spoke with such quiet certainty that it left no room for doubt—this wasn’t just a job to him; it was everything.

The lump in your throat returns, but this time you let it linger, because this—his quiet devotion, his unwavering effort—is why you fell in love with him. “You’re already doing it,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “And you’re doing it perfectly.”

Joe smiles, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Good. Now let’s get through the rest of this list before he gets here and turns everything upside down.”

Your laugh echoes through the bathroom, the two of you standing there in the glow of anticipation, knowing your lives were about to change in the most beautiful way.

[wheelie-sick]

this is an unpopular take but actually yeah sometimes having low empathy does hurt people. it just doesn't mean that we're irredeemable monsters who need to be sterilized for the good of society.

sometimes low empathy makes people say unintentionally cold, mean, or downright cruel things

sometimes low empathy leads to a lack of care for others causing people to behave in hurtful ways intentionally

sometimes low empathy means that someone lacks understanding of why something is hurtful leading them to double down when confronted about it

sometimes low empathy makes attempts at offering sympathy clumsy and upsetting

sometimes low empathy can lead to attitudes about bullying such as "well I'm just telling [what I think is] the truth" without recognizing that certain comments can be hurtful even if you believe them to be true

while these actions are not acceptable or productive the big thing about them is that they can be learned from. not everyone can learn empathy- that's okay. everyone can learn to be a kinder, more considerate person.

denying that low empathy can lead to harmful behaviors does us no good. it erases many of us in favor of appearing respectable to the people who do not respect us.

yeah, I have low empathy. yeah, I have hurt people because of it- sometimes on purpose. I have learned from it. stop trying to make me the "wrong type of low empathy" or deny that the things I did were directly linked to my low empathy just because you think it makes you look bad. cool, you're perfect and your low empathy has never hurt someone but that's not true of many of us and you don't just get to throw us in the garbage can because we're inconvenient for your "low empathy hurts no one" narrative.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Run, Run, Run II

Leila Ouahabi x Reader

Summary: Your new life

Your feet pound on the concrete of the pavement, rain drip-dropping down your skin.

The rain of Manchester had been difficult to get used to when you originally moved, used to the sun of Spain and the warmth on your skin as you completed your morning run.

The rain wasn't something that you were surprised about but it was still something that you've had to get used to.

You've had to get used to a lot actually but one thing, for better or for worse has stayed that same.

Your damned attraction to female footballers older than you.

You'd been burned by Alexia. That was all you could think about those first few weeks. How every memory with her was stained with fire and flames and an overwhelming heat that made you lose your mind.

But she had cheated and you had promised yourself to never be like your mother - to never stay with someone that disrespected you like that.

Your father was a damned near perfect father. He took you to all of your track meets and he'd never missed a parent-teacher evening in his life. He bragged about you to his co-workers.

But he had never been a perfect husband, cheating on your mother multiple times but she had still stayed, happy in the relative normalcy she has with your father.

You'd promised to never be like her so the decision to leave Alexia and flee the country didn't take as much thought as you thought it would.

And now you're in rainy Manchester, drying off your hair with the handy towel that hangs up in the entrance hall for you to use exactly for these moments.

"You're back?"

You smile as you rub the towel over your hair.

"I said I would before you left me."

"Left you? I'm only going to camp."

You sigh dramatically, pressing the back of your palm to your still damp forehead. "And leaving me here, all alone! Locked in this prison!"

"You were the one that decided on this apartment? You said you liked the open plan arrangement? We have a balcony?"

You press a soft kiss to Leila's lips. "You knew I was only joking. But I will miss you when you're at camp."

"I'll miss you too. Are you sure you can't come to the match?"

You nibble on the inside of your cheek.

Your life with Leila was practically perfect in every way. She was so in tune with you and your needs. She knew when you needed a break from cooking dinner or doing the grocery shop. She knew exactly when you needed a little pick me up like flowers or chocolates or even a long cuddle session in bed.

Everything was perfect but you just can't bring yourself to go back to Spain in that way, to put yourself in a situation where you'll be so close to Alexia again, the woman that you had once thought would be your wife some day.

"Baby..." You say, looking up at Leila," You know I wouldn't put you in that situation. Alexia...I don't want her to try to ostracise you from the team."

Leila sighs. "She's never done such a thing. Even...Even during...you know..."

"I know but it might be different. I mean...with me and her, it was...I don't know. I don't want you be at risk."

"I understand," Leila says, forehead pressed against your own," But if you did want to come, I've got a ticket reserved for you, alright?"

"I'll...I'll think about it. I promise."

Leila thinks about it too, all throughout camp. It circles through her mind like a dog with a bone. She wakes up thinking about. She goes to sleep thinking about it.

You've watched plenty of her matches at City, where you've become a favourite of the fans without even meaning to. You're a constant presence in the stands with a cup of whatever warm drink you poured yourself before leaving the house.

She's lost count of how many of her Panini stickers you've signed for fans before coming down onto the pitch to greet her.

But you've never come to one of her matches for Spain, not with Alexia on the team, the ever lurking looming presence of your relationship.

Leila's never really seen her captain in the same way since. She's a good captain, an amazing player but Leila's learnt how to separate those aspects of Alexia to the one that she knows you experienced, the one that had tried to manipulate you into staying in a relationship, the one that had tried to promise you everything to stay with her even after cheating.

Leila can separate the Alexia on the pitch to the one off of it but she knows that is something you can't do.

The Alexia on the pitch and off the pitch has always been the same Alexia to you. There is no separation of who she is and Leila can accept your decision to stay away for that reason.

But it still doesn't stop her from wishing you would come to see her play.

The option is open for you but Leila would never hold it against you if you decided not to.

There were plenty of other games for you to go to.

"So..." Codi wheedles during breakfast before the match," Where's the girlfriend?"

Leila almost chokes over her cereal. "At home."

"She isn't coming?"

"She has the option if she wants. She's busy."

Codi rolls her eyes. "She's always busy during international break. She's got to come at some point."

Leila rolls her eyes. "She's her own person. I won't force her to do anything."

"You've got a new girlfriend?" Alexia asks, looking up from her phone.

Leila looks back down at her bowl, swirling the milk around with the back of her spoon. "I...Yeah, I do. She's great..."

She bites her tongue, swallowing back what she actually wants to say, all of the things she wants to spit at Alexia on your behalf.

But she doesn't.

Leila stays silent, swirling her cereal around as the conversation moves on.

The pass is perfectly weighted from her on the pitch a few hours later, speeding through the legs of opposition players for Alexia to slot neatly into the net.

The rush of an assist runs through Leila as she turns to look into the stands.

You're sitting there, amongst the cheering of the fans.

Leila had seen you earlier, a surprise in a hoodie to cover your hair but your girlfriend could just see the Spanish jersey poking out from under it.

She suddenly finds herself praying that it's hers.

She'd even take it being blank.

Because Leila knows Alexia noticed you earlier, had seen you when the big screen focused on the crowd during the warm ups. She had seen Alexia stare at you. She had seen the aborted movement Alexia made towards you, like she was about to abandon the warm ups to go up to you - sweetly saccharine tone at the ready to convince you to go back to her.

Leila hopes that if you do have a name on your shirt, it's not Alexia's.

[zorilleerrant]

What they didn't tell you, when you made that bargain, was that it changed from person to person how much you had to sacrifice. There have been complete strangers you've been able to resurrect for the price of a hank of hair, all the way on the other side of the world. Someone you never knew by anything but reputation might cost nothing but a palmful of blood or the skin from hands rubbed raw. The costs aren't hidden. For every potential resurrection, you know just exactly what you have to give to ignite it, and it depends on how much you care.

There are people you hate that you've managed to resurrect with a mouthful of spit. Even with your mouth gone dry from terror, you can bring back your enemies. Just because you hate them doesn't mean no one needs them back. Their families can tell how you feel, you're pretty sure, but they still hug you as they thank you for bringing someone back. They meet your eyes, afterwards, most of them. Some of them even thank you themselves. None of them bother to get in your way again, not after they're back.

You lost your smallest finger to a childhood friend. The two of you hadn't spoken in years, but still, there was that love that lingered, there were those memories like treacle making it so hard to tug a person back. When you heard, when they reached out to you on a long shot, you rushed back home.

It wasn't the first body part you lost, of course. You'd had to try. The first you lost was to the young prince, not because he was so beloved by you, but because the people wanted it badly enough it infected you with greed, delusions of grandeur, some certainty that you'd be held in estimation far above your peers. It cost you an ear, because ears are cosmetic, but it's enough to remind you, every time. How much you care is often personal, but not always.

It caught you in the mirror, right after. You hated the sight of yourself, then, staring at the brand new scar that looked years old. You wished you'd had the years to think about it. Instead, all you could do was practice until you were sure you knew how.

That was when you discovered it. Planning to dig divots into your arms and legs, you were confronted with a pit of unmourned dead, each one asking no more than a fingernail. A strand of hair. The brush of your eye against a single tear shed. You perfected your technique, that night. You practiced until you knew every shift and shimmer of the magic, and it cost you nothing at all.

You're known as a healer. You're known as a healer because you travel the land every day, in a cycle that's roughly predictable, and people can always apply for your aid. You rarely turn them down. You don't have the werewithal to care about other people's dead, anymore, which means you can care for all of them, with a sympathetic smile you barely feel on your face. Most of your kind have lost at least a leg, somewhere along the way, scarred more obtrusively than what you bear: only one whole hand, only one whole ear. There's a scar on the back of your shoulder where you were too shocked to wait for calm to bring a child back, and you think that's the last time it hit you, even if you sometimes still cry.

There was only one reason you undertook this quest, one person important enough to risk all of that, and you have to wait until you couldn't possibly care anymore, because a life that's important enough to take your life will ask it. Eventually this knowledge will wear you out. When it does, you know it will be safe to try again.

You can bring dead people to live again, but for every person you bring back, you have to sacrifice one body part

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 cabin confessions : percy jackson

▰▰ pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

y/n loves gushing about Percy to her siblings, Percy accidentally finds out about this and he's absolutely obsessed with it.

author: i'll never get tired of cabin ten reader x percy, probs will write more abt them because ugh i just love them, also mentions of marriage!!

She sits on her bed, a brush in her hand as she gently runs it through the little girl's hair, her touch tender and soothing, pouring care into each stroke through the knots.

Her siblings sit in a circle around her on the floor, listening to her and hanging onto her every word as she recalls the time she was just friends with Percy.

"How come you two started dating?" Lacy asks, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

They already know how the story goes, they have heard about it at least twice now, but every time they look as interested on it as if it was their first time hearing about it.

"We were friends for a long time. I always thought that's all we would ever be." She starts, settling down the brush. "Percy was just... you know, Percy. All charming and brave and, well— completely clueless about my crush on him."

One of them giggles. "You had a crush on him first? wasn't he the one that asked you out?"

"Yes, he was, but it took him long enough to do it." she replies, smiling fondly at the memory as she starts to braid her sister's hair. "We kissed first, can you believe it? and even after that, Percy was still a nervous wreck when he asked me out. It was like he had forgotten how to talk and kept stumbling over his words, I honestly thought he was choking at some point."

The group erupts into laughter.

"And did you say yes right away?" Another sister pipes up, leaning forward with anticipation.

"I don't think he would've survived if I didn’t." She grins, her fingers working on the braid. "He was so sweet, he took me out for a picnic by the lake and he was honestly... just so perfect. I couldn't say no to him."

One of her brothers smirks, leaning back. "I would've made him work harder for it."

"He's worth it. He's always worth it." a chorus of 'awws' fill the room just as she's finished with her Lily's braid. "Okay, who's next?"

Lily grins at her and goes to sit down with the rest of the siblings, happy with her new braid, and the next sister in line takes her place on the bed while y/n grabs the brush again.

She knows they're not done with their questions. "And how did you two kiss for the first time?"

Beaming at the question, she tells the whole story again and again, going through the details while keeping everyone's hair knotless and braided.

Percy has always been amused by y/n's relationship with her siblings. Besides Tyson, he doesn't have anyone else to share a cabin with, so he doesn’t really get too many bonding opportunities as she does. She always tells him about the endless afternoons of talking, the movie nights, the blanket forts, and he can't help but feel just the tiniest bit of envy as he listens.

Right now, Tyson isn't even around because he's too busy to come back to camp this summer. So even if Percy's trying hard to respect his girlfriend's quality time with her siblings this afternoon, he ends up missing her too much.

Which leads him here, finally giving up on spending time by himself, he heads towards cabin 10, hoping y/n will let him crash her sleepover because he just needs to see her.

However, just when he's about to knock on the wooden door, he notices it's slightly cracked open. Laughter spills out, and he can even pick up her laugh among the others.

He doesn’t mean to pry, really, but it's not his fault that just when he's about to announce himself, he hears one of her little sisters asking. "And do you think you'll marry him?"

Percy stops right on his track, something just tells him they're talking about him. His suspicions only get confirmed when y/n is the one replying to the question. "Well, we're still young. But I can't picture myself marrying anyone else, you know?"

Gasps and excited chatter fill the room. Some of them beg for her to be flower girls at the wedding, while she tries, and fails, to get them to quiet down.

Percy's frozen in his spot. His heart skips a beat or two at her words. He leans against the doorframe, unable to stop the smile creeping across his face.

"Do you think he wants to marry you, too?" another one asks when the room finally falls silent again.

He does. Percy wants to make his presence known just to answer the question himself.

y/n chuckles softly "Well that's something that you'd have to ask him. But I sure hope so."

"You should propose to him instead." one suggests, they all break into a fit of giggles.

"Maybe I should. Do you reckon he'd like that?" She asks playfully.

Another sibling chimes in "He'd probably faint right on the spot."

Percy can't help himself anymore. Before he can think it through, his knuckles softly knock on the door. Everyone immediately falls silent, turning to look at the doorway, where he's shyly standing.

y/n's smile grows bigger once she looks up and finds him there. "Percy!"

"hope i'm not interrupting anything." he steps in, trying to keep his cool even though his heart is racing.

The Aphrodite kids exchange mischievous looks, some covering their mouths to hide their giggles. Lacy's the one to pipe up. "We were just talking about you!"

"Oh, really?" Percy has to act as if he didn’t know that already, raising his eyebrows as he glances at y/n, her cheeks are already tinted a pretty shade of pink. "Good things, I hope?"

"Of course" she recovers quickly, making some space for him to sit beside her on the bed. "What are you doing here?"

Percy carefully steps around the circle of Aphrodite kids on the floor and plops down beside her. "Just missed you." He replies simply, already reaching for her hand.

Her siblings immediately protest. "Don't distract her! it's her turn to braid."

She laughs, setting the brush down and instead taking Percy's hand, her delicate fingers lacing with his. "Don't worry, I'll still braid everyone's hair. Percy's just here to join the fun."

He chuckles, playfully shrugging. "I've always wanted to learn how to braid, I guess"

Her siblings break into laughter, and y/n rolls her eyes affectionately. That's how Percy ends up being instructed by a bunch of Aphrodite children on how to make a perfect braid while he listens to their chatter, laughing as they share stories with him.

Every now and then, y/n sneaks a glance at him, her eyes soft with affection and he remembers what he overheard. He will never forget it. But everytime she looks at him, he knows she wasn't lying just by the love he's able to see in her eyes.

Later, when everyone is happy with their braids and every story they could think about has been told, they start to drift away to their different sides of the cabin and Percy finds his perfect opportunity to mention what he overheard. He can't keep it to himself any longer.

"For the record." He starts, tugging her closer to him. "I can't picture myself marrying anyone else either."

Her breath catches and her face turns crimson. She immediately hides her face against his chest. "You weren't supposed to hear that!"

Percy laughs, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a soft kiss against her temple. "Just let me take care of the proposal, yeah?"

She's utterly embarrased, but she finally laughs, swatting his chest lightly as she mumbles. "Deal"

They settle back into each other’s arms, the warmth of the moment lingering between them as they think about how lucky they are to have each other. Next time, when her siblings gather around her bed asking questions, she’ll have some news to share with them.

[bigification]

Lumberjack - A TF Short

"Why did I need to come here dad?" You whine.

"This is important, son. It's a family tradition." He responds, clearly tired of convincing you.

"Look, I already told you a million times, I'm not gonna be a lumberjack like you." You try to plead with him as you enter the department store.

"Just give it a try, we'll start with some woodworking to get you started and if you still don't like it I'll stop asking." He says as he holds his hand out.

"Deal." You smile and shake his hand.

You're 99 percent sure you're not gonna like it, so maybe this will finally get him off your back about this whole family business thing. Your father is nothing if not honest, so it feels like a weight off your back that he might actually stop nagging you about it.

"Here we are." He says as you turn into the lumber aisle. "Why don't you grab a few two by fours." He asks.

It doesn't bring you joy, but you promised you'd give it a chance. You walk up to the wall of wood planks, scanning for which ones are two by fours.

"Not that one." Your father says with concern as you grab the wrong plank. "Just to the right."

Your hand wanders to the right until it meets a large two by four. You wrap your hand around it and try to pick it up, but you can't. You try a few times to lift it off the shelf, to no avail. Is it just too heavy? Are you really that weak that you can't even lift one plank of wood? That can't be right.

The silence is broken by a cracking sound coming from your hand. You watch in horror as your hand starts to grow, the bones cracking and reshaping as your palm doubles in size and your fingers become thick and calloused. It somehow feels comfortable holding the plank of wood now. Your hand is large enough to nearly wrap around the whole plank, and the callouses protect from the splinters sticking out of the wood. Why does it feel so... familiar?

You don't have to think about it though. As if it was spreading up from your hand. Your forearm grows thicker than your biceps and your biceps triple in size in an instant, ripping right through the sleeves of your shirt. Thick veins start to surface along the defined muscles on your arms.

Your other arm quickly follows suit, making you look like a cartoon character with massive arms and a tiny body. That wouldn't last long however.

Your shirt rips even more as your shoulders broaden with bulging muscles. Your flat chest suddenly bursts outward with muscle, quickly becoming two juicy pecs that strain your shirt to its limits. Your pudgy belly melts away to reveal a perfectly defined eight pack. Even your waist slims down, creating a perfect V shaped upper body.

The transformation has only just begun. You feel a tightness grow in your shorts. Your free hand wanders over to your crotch. Your dick feels much smaller down on account of having hands twice as large as before. Although you start to feel your underwear tighten as the bulge in your shorts grows and grows until it fits perfectly inside your massive man hands.

Your shorts continue to get tighter when your flat ass begins to rise like a loaf of bread, growing into two perky fat globes. It doesn't help when your thighs swell to twice the size, forcing you to spread your legs just to walk. Oh, and a man as well hung as you needs a pair of beastly feet to match. The straps on your sandals don't stand a chance against your Sasquatch feet, growing to a monstrous size 20.

Then the transformation finally starts to make its way to your head. Your neck thickens, your jaw widens, your nose grows longer, your brow bone sticks out more. Then it hits you. Your eyes widen as your brain starts to change. Everything you learned in university is gone in an instant and replaced with the memories of a real man, like your father. Axes, saws, and sex are all you know. Your brain also pumps your body with a surplus of testosterone. A light brown beard sprouts along your sharp jawline. It spreads down your neck to your pecs and along your eight pack. You keep the rest under check, but you would look like Bigfoot in a week if you didn't shave.

"You sure it's the two by fours you want?" You ask your father in a deep gruff voice.

There is an awkward silence for a moment.

"Son?" Your father says.

You turn to face him.

"Why don't you flex for me?" He asks.

It was a weird request, but you'll never turn down a chance to flex for someone.

"You've been hitting the gym, haven't you?" He compliments you.

"Yeah, I'm glad you noticed. Maybe you should come with me." You tease him by pinching the fat in his gut.

"You know I used to look just like you when my pops was teachin me. But us lumberjacks need to eat well to make it through the day." He chuckles.

"I'll be fine with chicken and rice." You respond.

"Oh, just you wait until I've got you workin in the forest with me. You'll be begging for seconds and thirds. Soon enough you'll look just like your old man." He continues laughing while he shakes his gut. "Now c'mon, let's get you in some real clothes. None of those shitty gym clothes." He says excitedly as he walks away.

[energ00n]

im losing my marbles over the fact that elita SAID that she was happy that dee had someone close to him. she said she was happy he found someone like that but he had to balance hanging out with orion and his work like WHICH IS GENUINE GOOD ADVICE.

and then dee still said that orion was insignificant... he didn't need to somehow prove that orion wasn't a distraction. he didn't need to make it clear that orion didn't mean anything to him. elita knows that orion means something. and she congratulated dee on finding someone like that. and then dee still turned around and denounced it. ohhhh my heart.

and the fact that ORION HEARD THE WHOLE CONVERSATION..... it's not even miscommunication, orion has all of the context. it's just flat out dee denying that he means anything to him. and dee means so so much to orion. i cannot see any way this will end badly /silly

YOU'RE RIGHT AND THIS IS PERFECT SUMMARY OF WHAT I WAS TRYING TO CONVEYED OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO KISS YOU

People were saying it's Elita's fault like NO! Don't baby D-16 here, it's all him. In that moment, he felt that his feelings for Orion were a weakness or a wound that the public could sneer and poke at but that's not it at all??? He was trying to overcompensate for his lack of security and and in turn said things that hurt Orion.

We all say things that we didn't think through and when it hurts people, WE SUCK IT UP AND TAKE ACCOUNTABILITY. There's no miscommunication, that boy did this to himself

[pattwtf]

Well, yeah! No drama at all, but now this showed up wanna share something that's been on my mind these days...

This happened to me lately with someone... Loved their blog and I used to like and rb their content (credits in tags and all, I always try to # creators names at least...). Maybe a supportive comment here and there, but that was all.

Haven't interacted in any other way like... ever, so I really don't know what went wrong, I mean it. And I found out they blocked me trying to share one of their posts, already RB by somebody else. If not, I would have thought maybe they took some time off Tumblr or... Yeah, whatever, you feel me.

Spent a couple of days wondering why... I've never had any unpleasant situations with anyone around here... so I did give it some thought. Especially cause I felt terrible thinking that maybe I had made someone uncomfortable to that extent without knowing it at all.🥺

But then I just came to the conclussion that... It's perfectly perfect! If something didn't work for them..... It's totally fine. It just shocked me a bit, since I try really hard to spread love anytime I log in here... (which I don't do so often lately, btw... Been so sick, now I'm tired af and I need to catch up on soooo many things... I feel if I'm not around as much as I did, I'm gonna lose so many of your awesome creations, guys😭)

I still think the talent and content of that account owner are wonderful, in fact, and I feel sorry for not being able to see it anymore and not knowing if I did anything wrong so I could fix it! I promise I try my best to be as respectful, kind and supportive as much as I can and you all deserve, so whatever it was, I can say that I did not do it on purpose, nor was I consciously aware of having done it. I don't intend to get anything out of this post other than to be at peace with myself, not having had the opportunity to discuss the issue directly with this person.🙏

In case any of you ever feel bad about something I post, share, etc. just talk to me! I swear I'm friendly🥹❤️😅

Once I got it out of my system... HAPPY MONDAY! 😜🌹

Sorry for making such a big deal out of a silly thing, but it had to be the first time...!

when you click on the blog of someone who has you blocked and tumblr says “that isn’t anyone” im always like gaggggg that’s right they’re a nobody

[siriuslystyle1989]

Im yours, but you're not mine

Azriel x Archeron!reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff

masterlist

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Sitting down at the table, Y/n watched all the happy couples in her family partner off.

Rhysand was running his fingers through Feyre's hair while little Nyx babbled happily in her lap, Nesta and Cassian held each others hands under the table, Amren was quite literally on top of Varian and Mor and Emerie were sat gossiping and drinking wine.

Y/n turned her gaze to her twin sister, Elain. Who had, not only one, but two males trying to get her attention. Her mate, Lucien whom she had recently been trying to get along with more was sat to her left smiling as she spoke.

On her right however, sat the shadow singer, Azriel. Someone Y/n had been practically infatuated with since she arrived in Velaris, yet, he payed her little mind, opting to speak to her sister instead.

Azriel sat listening intently to Elain, adding little comments here and there and paying no mind to anyone else whatsoever.

It struck Y/n suddenly, like a stab to her heart, she was alone.

The only one out of her sisters to not have a mate.

Alone.

The word hung in her mind like itch she couldn't reach, and she felt tears well up in her eyes.

Attempting to push them back down Y/n sucked in a breath and Nesta turned to her looking concerned. She raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow as if to say 'are you alright?'

Y/n meekly swallowed and stood up "I- I'm just going- i'm just going to go to the bathroom"

she quickly walked into the bathroom where she began to sob.

"Y/n? Y/n are you alright?" Elain's voice traveled past the door.

"Yes Elain im okay-"

"Please let me in, I know you aren't"

Y/n reluctantly opened the door revealing her sobbing form.

"Oh Y/n... what happened!" Elain cooed pulling her twin into a hug

"N-nothing I just- I- I was looking at all of you, happily coupled and- I just- I started to feel lonely..."

Elain's face morphs into an empathetic frown as she strokes my hair.

"it's so silly- but- I cant help being jealous of you. W-why d-does nobody want me?" Y/n said quietly, her voice cracking.

Elain abruptly groaned loudly "Honestly why is it always me sorting out relationship issues!"

Y/n's brows furrow, hurt by her sudden discontentment "w-what"

"no! no I didn't mean it like that I meant- wait here"

Elain gets up quickly and leaves.

Y/n sits on the floor of the bathroom wiping her eyes as Elain comes back.

"Here." Elain then shoved Azriel in front of Y/n

"Im so done with your guys' bullshit please just speak and leave me alone." she walked away muttering to herself.

"Azriel?" Y/n questions, confused.

He shuffled from side to side, nervous and completely out of character.

"Y/n... I need to tell you something, can we go- outside?"

Y/n nodded getting up off the floor and following him outside.

"Azriel... what's happening- I-"

"Y/n you're my mate." Azriel blurted out.

"w-what? but- but I thought you and- you and-" Y/n stumbled over her words completely overwhelmed.

"Me and Elain? absolutely not, she and Lucien are serious now- she was just helping me with- well- letting me talk at her about you really..."

Y/n let out a shaky breath "Are- are you pranking me?"

Azriel's brows furrowed "No! gods no y/n not at all!"

he moved to encircle her into a hug "I'm yours if you'll have me sweetheart."

"Ive- ive liked you ever since I first saw you Azriel- I just- I thought you wanted Elain."

"Oh love" he sighed kissing her hair. "I want you- all I want is you- day in day out, I talk Elain's ear off."

Y/n smiled tearily up at him.

"There's that pretty smile hmm?" he cooed looking down at the girl.

"can I- can I kiss you?" Y/n murmured.

"You don't even have to ask" Azriel whispered.

Suddenly, their lips attached in rhythmic perfection, holding each other close.

a chorus of whoops and cheers are heard from inside and the pair start laughing into the kiss.

"mate." Azriel murmured into Y/n's soft lips.

"mate." She replied.

Maybe she wasn't so alone after all.

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my requests are always open!!

[lipstick-and-libraries]

New Dorm, New Chance? Pt. 1

𓋜 Pairing: Minho (XO, Kitty) x fem! Reader

𓋜 Series: The Roommate Exchange

𓋜 Summary: You are Kitty's new Roommate, after she decided to switch Rooms to avoid Yuri and Juliana, and it's not long until you get the opportunity to meet her first roommates.

𓋜 Notes:

Hey <3

I don't know if anyone is gonna read this at all, but I decided to get back into writing, and due to Season Two coming out, I have an unhealthy obsession with XO, Kitty. So, I sat down, saw the lack of XO, Kitty fics and created a little something, I hope you enjoy! I'd be grateful for any kind of feedback

The second semester at KISS was off to a chaotic start, as usual, but for Kitty Song Covey, things were finally starting to settle down. After pleading with the principal, she’d managed to switch dorms and move in with a close friend of hers, (Y/N). It was a decision that made perfect sense—Kitty needed a break from the awkward tension of her old room, and (Y/N)’s calming presence was exactly what she needed to focus on her whirlwind of romantic and academic entanglements.

(Y/N) had been nothing short of the perfect roommate. She was effortlessly chic, deeply intuitive, and, unlike most students at KISS, refreshingly down-to-earth. Kitty often marveled at how (Y/N) could command attention without even trying. The girl had a natural elegance that seemed to enchant everyone she met.

One Saturday afternoon, Kitty left their shared dorm to meet up with Yuri to continue the search for her family. “Dae, Minho, and Q might stop by later,” she called over her shoulder. “I told them they could hang out until I’m back.”

“Got it,” (Y/N) replied, lounging on the kitchen counter with a book in her hands.

When Minho, Dae, and Q arrived at Kitty’s new dorm, Minho was mid-rant about his latest gym mishap.

“Who even uses the elliptical when the treadmill’s free? It’s practically a crime—”

“Minho,” Q interrupted, rolling his eyes. “You’ll live. Just knock on the door.”

Minho sighed dramatically before rapping his knuckles against the door. When no one answered, he opened it cautiously.

“Kitty? We’re here—”

But it wasn’t Kitty who greeted them. Instead, they were met with the sight of (Y/N) sitting on the kitchen counter, one leg crossed over the other, a book perched casually in her hands. The sunlight streaming through the window seemed to frame her like a painting, catching the soft waves of her hair and the slight smirk on her lips.

Minho stopped mid-step, his usual self-assured demeanor faltering.

“Oh,” (Y/N) said, glancing up from her book. Her voice was smooth, effortlessly composed. “You must be Kitty’s friends.”

Dae offered a polite smile. “Yeah, I’m Dae. That’s Q, and… Minho.”

(Y/N) nodded, her eyes flickering briefly to Minho, who was still standing frozen by the door.

“Kitty mentioned you might drop by,” (Y/N) said, closing her book and hopping off the counter with a grace that made Minho’s heart stutter. “She’s out snooping with Yuri again, but you’re welcome to wait here.”

“Cool, thanks,” Q said, settling onto the couch. Dae followed suit, but Minho hesitated, still trying to gather his thoughts.

“She’s—” Minho started, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. He coughed, trying to sound casual. “She didn’t say her new roommate was…you know, you.”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” She wasn't exactly popular by any means, but she also wasn't completely unknown. She leads a couple of language and study courses, and word spread that its not only brains, but beauty too that convinced people to visit her student courses.

As the afternoon wore on, Minho found himself increasingly distracted. While Dae and Q scrolled through their phones and chatted, Minho’s attention kept drifting to (Y/N). There was something about her thsn threw him off, and not in a bad way. Where most people at KISS seemed eager to impress or compete, (Y/N) seemed content just to exist in her own world.

She didn’t try to fill the silence with small talk or flashy gestures. Instead, she moved with an easy confidence, offering the occasional witty comment that left Minho scrambling for a clever response.

At one point, she caught him staring.

“Something on your mind?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Minho flushed. “Uh, no. Just…trying to figure out what book you were reading before.”

(Y/N) held up the cover—an old, leather-bound edition of Wuthering Heights.

Minho blinked. “You’re reading…that? Isn’t it, like, super depressing?”

“It’s beautiful,” (Y/N) countered, a faint smile playing on her lips. “And complicated. Kind of like people. You should borrow it sometime”

Minho didn’t know how to respond to that, so he settled for an awkward nod.

After an hour, Q and Dae decided to head out to grab food. “You coming, Minho?” Dae asked, already halfway out the door.

“I’ll catch up,” Minho said quickly, waving them off.

(Y/N) lead the two boys to the door, giving them the spare key Kitty had told her to give to them, and apologizes for Kitty being this late. Once the door closed, the room fell quiet.

Minho shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

“So…how do you know Kitty?” he asked finally, leaning against the back of the couch.

“We met at orientation,” (Y/N) replied. “She’s…unlike anyone else. In a good way.”

Minho chuckled. “That’s one way to describe her.”

(Y/N) grabs her book and puts it away on the small shelf standing in the living room and looked at him, her gaze steady but not intimidating. “And what about you? How do you know Kitty?”

“She’s…” Minho hesitated, then shrugged. “Complicated.”

(Y/N)’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “You should know a thing or two about that, based on what i've already seen from you”

For the first time, Minho felt like someone had peeled back the layers of his carefully curated persona. Most people saw him as the charming, confident playboy, but (Y/N) seemed to see through all of that.

The turning point came when (Y/N) decided to make tea.

“Want some?” she asked, holding up a kettle.

“Sure,” Minho said, joining her in the kitchen.

As they stood side by side, he found himself relaxing for the first time all day. (Y/N) handed him a mug, her fingers brushing against his. The brief contact sent a jolt through him, but he played it off, sipping his tea like nothing had happened.

“This is good,” he said, gesturing to the tea.

“Thanks,” (Y/N) replied. “It’s an old family recipe.”

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” she said, her smile teasing.

When Kitty returned later that evening, she found Minho still in the dorm, sitting on the couch with (Y/N). They were deep in conversation, their laughter filling the room.

“Am I interrupting something?” Kitty asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Minho said quickly, standing up. “I was just—uh—leaving.”

As he walked past (Y/N), he hesitated for a moment. “See you around?”

“Maybe,” (Y/N) replied, her tone light but her eyes warm.

After Minho left, Kitty turned to (Y/N), a knowing grin spreading across her face. “What was that about?”

(Y/N) shrugged, but her cheeks flushed slightly. “Nothing. Just talking.”

Kitty didn’t buy it for a second. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

(Y/N) gives her a grin of her own and links her arm with Kitty's.

"While we're on the topic, how'd your little date with Yuri go?"

Kitty's eyes go wide, nudging (Y/N) playfully while laughing

"Hey! I'm the one asking Questions, not you!"

That night, as Minho lay in bed, he couldn’t stop thinking about (Y/N). The way she smiled, the way she seemed to see right through him, the way her laugh made his chest feel lighter.

For the first time in a long time, Minho felt something real—something that scared him but also excited him.

Part 2?

[insidekatmind]

Mission- Bucky Barnes

Wearning: +18,smut

Request: yes!

The jet lands with a jolt on the deserted runway of a private island. Outside the window, palm trees sway in the breeze, and a pink sunset paints the horizon. There’s no time to appreciate it, though. You’re here for a mission, and it’s already off to a bad start.

“I can’t believe I have to do this with you,” scoffs Bucky Barnes, throwing you a look of pure disgust.

“The feeling is mutual,old man,” you reply through gritted teeth. Your name, Y/N, is printed on the fake passport you’re holding, but your real task is far more complicated than maintaining a false identity. The mission requires you and Bucky to pose as a happily married couple to infiltrate an exclusive gala hosted by an international arms dealer.

“Wasn’t there literally anyone else available?” he asks, shaking his head.

“We’re not here for sympathy, Barnes. You’re the only one with a shady enough past to avoid suspicion.”

He laughs, but without a shred of humor. “And you’re the only one who speaks enough languages to keep up with a crooked diplomat. Just don’t expect me to pretend I enjoy being here.”

“And don’t expect a hug from me,” you reply with an icy smile.

---

The villa assigned to the two of you is luxurious: white marble, designer furniture, and an ocean view that takes your breath away. Too bad the tension in the room is heavy enough to crush any promise of relaxation.

“There’s only one bed,” you say, pointing to the massive king-sized bed in the middle of the room.

“Perfect,” Bucky replies, dropping his bag on the armchair nearby. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Not a chance. I need proper sleep for tomorrow night’s gala.”

“Don’t worry, princess,” he says with a smirk. “I wouldn’t come near you even by accident.”

You finally decided to share a bed. You were wearing shorts and a tank top as you stared at the ceiling.

Bucky lies next to you, tense and unmoving. Even without looking at him, you can feel the distance between you both, like a chasm that can’t be crossed. Your eyes wander to the ceiling, tracing the pattern of shadows in the dim light. Finally, he breaks the silence.“Do you expect me to believe that you actually need sleep?” he mutters under his breath.

"What?" You ask, turning to him.Bucky doesn't turn to you, but his voice is still laced with sarcasm. "You heard me. I know you're used to pulling all-nighters for missions. You don't exactly act like the type to need a full eight hours to feel refreshed."

You look at him with a twinkle of sarcasm. "Well this time it's different, I'm on a mission with you and I have to put up with you, so I need sleep".

Bucky rolls over onto his side, finally facing you. “Oh, so I’m such a pain that I keep you awake now?” he says with a smirk. “Is this how you treat all the people you’ve ever worked with?”

"not just old men who think they are better than others" you reply looking at him.“Old man?” He repeats, sitting up on the bed. “You’re really calling me an old man? Aren’t you supposed to flatter your partner on these missions? Or is that just reserved for the men you actually like?” he jokes.

You roll your eyes ignoring him.Bucky doesn’t get ignored easily, though. He scoots his way towards you in the bed, his prosthetic arm brushing against your arm. “What, no smartass reply? I can’t believe I’ve finally managed to shut you up,” he teases, his voice low and quiet.

“Keep your hands or I'll turn your other arm into vibranium too,” you threaten.

Bucky holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Easy, sweetheart. I’m just trying to get a reaction out of you.” He scoots even closer, so that you can feel the heat of his body next to you. “And I think I’ve succeeded.”

“Very funny arm wrestling,” you say sarcastically.“You got plenty of jokes, huh?” Bucky replies, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He leans in a little closer, the distance between you almost vanishing. “You know, I can think of a better way to occupy that smart mouth of yours, princess.”

You turn and find yourself a little too close to him. "Oh really?" you say sarcastically.Bucky takes advantage of your proximity, invading your personal space even further. His face is inches from yours now, his breath dancing across your skin. “You’d be surprised,” he murmurs, a hint of danger in his voice. “I’ve got some ideas….”

Bucky’s fingertips graze your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. “I wonder if you’d be this sarcastic if I took away that smart mouth of yours.”He shifts his weight on the bed, pinning you against the sheets as he leans over you. He’s so close now that you can feel the heat of his breath on your face.

"What the hell are you doing?" You murmur, looking at him above you.Bucky smirks, relishing your surprise. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he asks, his voice a low growl. His head dips down, his lips brushing against your neck. “I’m testing a theory….”

Bucky's hands roam over your body, the metal one surprisingly gentle. “Tell me your theory,” you manage to gasp as his fingers tease the edge of your tank top.Bucky's lips find your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “My theory is that your smart-ass mouth isn’t as tough as you think it is,” he whispers, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “And I bet I could find a more entertaining use for it.”

“Your theory is wrong old men” you say.Bucky laughs at that, his chest rumbling against yours. “Oh, we’ll see about that,” he says, his hand sneaking under the hem of your shirt. “I’ve yet to see you speechless. I bet I could make you speechless. I bet I could make you forget every smartass comment you’ve ever thought and make you begging for more.”

“get your hands off me” you say looking at him.Bucky's hand stills, pressed flat against your stomach. “Is that what you really want?” he asks, his voice a low murmur. “Or are you just saying that because you’re too stubborn to admit you like my hands on you?”

"Why would I like it, hm?" You murmur, looking at him.Bucky grins above you, his eyes flicking down to your lips. “Oh, I think you do. I think you like me this close to you. I think you like the way my hand feels on your skin….”

His prosthetic hand travels up, pushing under your top until you can feel the cool metal against the skin of your stomach. “I think you’re just too stubborn to admit it,” he says, his voice a sultry whisper.

His fingers trace the edge of your bra through your shirt, a light touch that sends a shiver down your spine. “I think you’re struggling to keep hold of all those smartass comments, aren’t you?” he murmurs. “I think you’re about to lose your words completely.”

“fuck you” you blurt out looking at him.Bucky laughs, his voice a deep rumble. “Now that’s exactly the kind of dirty talk I like to hear,” he replies, enjoying your reaction. His hand slips down, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts. “You know, you really should watch that mouth of yours, princess.”

You could feel his hardness touching you and you looked up at him. "You like this kinky game, yes?" you murmur.

Bucky’s smirk turns into a grin, his eyes darkening with want. “I like anything that gets a reaction out of you,” he replies, his hand roaming across your hip and up your thigh. “And you’ve been giving me quite the reaction.”

His hand slips under your top, his fingers splaying across your back. He pulls you closer to him, his hips grinding against yours. “But I have a feeling we could both have some more fun…”

You hold back a moan feeling his hardness more towards you.Bucky’s smirk only widens as he hears your stifled moan. “That’s more like it,” he says, his hand moving to the back of your neck. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to make a noise for me.”

"you won't get anything from me" he murmured not with the same certainty that characterizes you.Bucky laughs, his breath hot against your skin. “Oh, princess, I think you underestimate me,” he replies. “I’ll get you to make all sorts of pretty noises for me before the night is over.”

His lips find your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin. “And you can’t fool me,” he murmurs. “I can feel you shivering, I can hear your breathing getting rougher. You like this, don’t you? You like the way I’m touching you….”

His hand is roaming over your body, pushing your shirt higher over your stomach and your chest. “Go on,” he urges, his voice husky. “Say it. Tell me you like it when I touch you like this….”

“No, I don’t,” you say even as your sighs grow heavy.

Bucky laughs at your stubbornness, but there’s an edge to it. “Oh, princess, you’re a terrible liar,” he says, his hand moving to your waist. “I know you want this. I can feel it in the way you arch your back when I touch you. And I’m not going to stop until you stop pretending.”

His mouth is on your neck now, his teeth scraping against your skin. “Stop playing games, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Tell me you want me. Tell me you need me.”

You moan at the contact. “no, I don’t” you say in a tense voice.

Bucky’s smirk widens, his hand sliding up your leg. “Your moans don’t seem to agree with your words,” he murmurs. “I know you can’t resist me. I know you’re just as much of a mess under my touch as I am under yours….”

His hand moves farther north, slipping under the hem of your shorts. “Give in, princess,” he whispers, his voice a low growl. “Just say the words and I’m all yours….”

You closed your eyes trying not to give in but you could feel Bucky's hand playing with your thong.Bucky lets out a low chuckle as he feels you react to his touch. “There you go,” he murmurs, his fingers playing with the lace of your lingerie. “I know you’re close to breaking, isn’t that right? I know you’re just moments away from giving in…”

His thumb brushes against your most sensitive spot through the thin fabric, drawing a gasp from your lips. “Come on, princess, I want to hear you say it,” he says, his voice dripping with want. “I want to hear you admit that you want this as badly as I do…”

You moan at the touch and arch. “I hate you so much” you murmur.Bucky laughs huskily, feeling your body respond to his touch. “No, you don’t,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “You don’t hate me at all. You hate how much you want me…. How much you need me….”

His fingers toy with the waistband of your shorts, his hand edging them down your hips. “Admit it, princess,” he whispers, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. “Admit that you want me as badly as I want you….” His hand moves to your inner thigh, his touch light and teasing. “Say the words,” he urges, his voice low and rough. “Say you want me, princess. Say you need me just as badly as I need you….”

You bit your lip to keep from giving in but it was very difficult, you were wavering and you just wanted him to give you pleasure.Bucky lets out a low curse as he feels you resist him. “You’re such a stubborn little thing,” he grumbles, his hand tightening on your thigh. “But I won’t let you keep up this act, princess. I’ll break you, it’s only a matter of time…. Just say the words, sweetheart….”

His fingers slide further up your thigh, edging up under your shorts. “Just a few words, princess,” he urges, his voice rough with want. “Just tell me you want me, and then I’ll give you what you need…”

You moan again but you don't want to give in. "No".Bucky curses again, his fingers tightening on your thigh. “You’re so damn stubborn, princess,” he mutters, his voice tight with want. “But you’re also lying to yourself….”

Bucky finally leans down and kisses you passionately and hungrily.The kiss is almost violent, a clash of need and desperation. Bucky’s lips are hot against yours, his tongue seeking yours as he presses you into the sheets. He bites at your bottom lip, then leans back, his eyes dark with desire. “Say it, princess,” he growls, his hand still on your thigh. “Just say you want me….”

You moan and kiss him. Bucky laughs huskily, his hand moving up your body. “There we go, princess,” he murmurs against your lips. “That’s what I’ve been waiting for…”His lips move down to your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there and causing you to gasp again. “Say it, princess,” he repeats, his hand finally moving up to cup your core. “Just tell me you want me….”

You moan at his words and surrender to him. "I want you".Bucky lets out a low growl of satisfaction as he hears your words. “That’s what I thought,” he mutters, his fingers trailing against your skin. “I knew you couldn’t resist me for long.”

He takes your wrists in his hand, pinning them above your head. His body presses against yours, his weight holding you in place. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it, princess?” he whispers in your ear, his breath hot and heavy.His hand slides down your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “But now that you’ve given in, I’m going to have some fun with you…” he murmurs, his voice dark with promise. “I’m going to make you scream for me…”

He kissed you again and put two fingers inside your panties and into your core making you moan into the kiss.Bucky lets out a low chuckle as he feels you arch against him. “That’s it, princess,” he murmurs against your lips. “Let it out. Let me hear how good I make you feel…”He moves his fingers slowly, finding a rhythm that makes you moan again. “I knew you’d feel good,” he whispers, his eyes dark with want. “

His fingers move a little faster, the pressure inside of you increasing. “But I bet I could make you feel even better…” he murmurs, his mouth moving down to your neck. “I bet I could make you scream for me".

“Bucky” you moan and arch once more.Bucky’s smirk is almost feral as he hears you moan his name. “There it is,” he mutters, his fingers working faster as they press deeper into you. “I knew you’d sound like that when you finally let yourself go…”

He bites at your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin. “And I know I can make you moan louder, sweetheart… if you beg me right…”

His fingers move again, finding a place inside you that makes you gasp. “Beg me, princess,” he murmurs, his voice rough with lust. “Beg me to make you feel good. Beg me to give you what you need…”

You felt his fingers go faster and faster inside you and you could feel yourself getting close. “Please Bucky,” you murmur.Bucky grins at your words, his fingers moving even faster. “Please, what, princess?” he murmurs, his mouth moving to your ear. “Say it. Tell me what you want me to do…”

“let me come please” You murmur moving your hips on his fingers.

Bucky grins at your pleading tone, his fingers finally getting the reaction he wanted. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “You sound so pretty when you beg for me like that… so pretty when you ask for what you want…”

His fingers move a little faster, going deeper. “You’re so close, princess,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. “I can feel it. I can feel your body tensing up… begging for release…"

He moves his mouth back to your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin as he presses his forehead against yours. “But you have to ask me nicely if you want it…” he mutters, his voice raw with need. “You have to beg me for what you need, princess…”

You whimper at his words. “please Bucky, I’m so close” you murmur.Bucky’s grin widens at your words, his fingers finally giving you what you’ve been craving. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he mutters, his touch rough yet still gentle with you. “You like it when I make you beg for it…”

“please” you murmur moaning feeling yourself getting closer and closer.Bucky’s fingers move a little faster at your words, his touch more insistent as he moves against you. “Almost there, princess, you’re so close,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl. “But I need you to say those magic words. I need you to beg me one more time…”

"Bucky please" you scream.Bucky grins at your scream, his fingers moving faster than ever inside you. “There it is, princess,” he mutters, breathing hard. “You sound so pretty when you scream my name… now let go for me, sweetheart."

You moan at his words and come on his fingers. “fuck” you murmur, closing your eyes in pleasure.Bucky let out a low growl as he feels you come on his fingers. “That’s it,” he mutters, his voice rough with satisfaction. “That’s my good girl…”

He withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean. “You taste so sweet,” he murmurs, his eyes dark with lust. “I knew you’d be sweet"

Bucky leans down, his body pressing against yours. “But I’m not done with you yet, princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. “Not even close…”

You look at him knowing you were in for a long night.

[bwat5-blog]

Caitlyn Kiramman: The Perfect Scapegoat

*Spoilers For Arcane*

Good morning all! So continuing my slow descent into insanity let us discuss Arcane once more. Last night trying to fall asleep I was scrolling Archive and came across another of what I think I have seen being called "aftermath" works, just meaning it is the particular author's spin on Cait and Vi's life fairly immediately following the end of season two.

I am not going to name the work or the author because fan-fiction is literally creative art for the author to do with as they please, and I certainly don't have to read anything I don't want to, so I have no desire to call this person out. But I have seen this sort of thing a lot and wanted to discuss it.

"Caitlyn has to face the consequences for her crimes"

Now I have read some truly abhorrent concepts of "justice" people have put Caitlyn through for her actions, and won't be going there. Some are downright inhuman and others just display a hilarious lack of understanding. But the reason this one stuck with me and really had me thinking is that even though it was not the author's intent based on their notes, I actually think they actually did a fantastic job sharing another side of how Caitlyn was utterly failed by almost everyone around her.

In this particular work, the surviving councilors and the prominent people of Piltover have Caitlyn arrested and conduct a tribunal. Including Mel and Shoola. She is called to answer for a host of charges such as allying with a foreign power against her own people, wrongful imprisonment and so on. You get the idea.

So why does this particular idea stick out to me? Because the audacity of the same people who practically fed Caitlyn to Ambessa, as well as surrendered Piltover while pounding their chests and cheering blaming Caitlyn is so nauseatingly realistic it hurts.

QUICK THING ON MEL:

Now let me clear. Mel would never. And had she been there she would have put a stop to that shit or at the very least nodded along while her mother called Caitlyn up then went to Caitlyn afterward in private and started fixing things. But, it is worth noting that Mel knew full and completely what her mother was planning in terms of starting a war to weaponize hex-tech. And as far as we are aware (I think we can assume she told Alora but we don't know for sure) didn't tell anyone. She was trying to stop her behind the scenes through her shadow games. And there are reasons and justifications for that certainly. In fact I think it's safe to assume Mel may have been afraid her mother would just outright attack if Mel was too aggressive in opposing her. Mel was a politician only at this time, and solved problems through more cerebral methods. Even when her magic manifests it is one primarily of protection and deflection, not head on aggression. Not to mention Mel's unavoidable conflicting emotions opposing her at all. But we will never how things could have been different if the rest of the council were aware of Ambessa's plan to begin with.

WHAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED:

This is primarily about her actual time as commander but I wanted to touch on the task force. I recently was discussing the task force/use of The Grey with another user and they stated Caitlyn staged a coup to lead the task force. This of course is in no way true, but as my wife put it:

"She didn't stage a coup but not a single one of those spineless adults thought to look at the emotionally sandblasted college kid and say -No. You haven't even taken a beat since you were abducted and terrorized by your mother's killer and you have just survived another fight. We will figure this out but you don't need this right now. Go hug your incredibly hot girlfriend and take like a fifteen hour nap- instead they let themselves take the easy way out and pinned it all on Caitlyn."

The Commander:

I am not gonna do a whole recap or a break-down of how Ambessa plays these people like a fiddle again. If you are interested I'd love to hear your thoughts on the documents where I have covered those topics!

In Summary: Caitlyn has returned from her mission with the strike team ending in heartbreak and failure in terms of Jinx at least. Totally isolated and alone, not having healed from any of the trauma she has suffered since the beginning of S1 A2, she stands with the other Enforcers while Ambessa expertly manipulates the prominent families of Piltover, the two surviving councilors, and a large amount of Enforcers you would have to assume included leadership (given their presence here and that there clearly many more than this total) into not only agreeing to Martial Law, but to Caitlyn as their commander.

"Caitlyn could have said no"- This is certainly true. I don't think anyone is arguing that myself included. Bu it is extraordinarily important to factor in Caitlyn's mental state at this point which includes a completely mind-boggling amount of trauma. As well as the fact that her people are angry and afraid, and as a Kiramman even at her young age she is someone they look to. Now sprinkle in a healthy amount of mob mentality and manipulation by Ambessa, as she is standing in a crowd of people thumping their chests while the only speaking member of her team stands by her side smiling and encouraging her to go up and accept. And then just to seal the deal Ambessa promises what Caitlyn wants most "your mother will have justice". She absolutely had the choice to say no. I am not negating that. But I do think unless you are intentionally disregarding all of the other factors involved in order to demonize her it is quite clear that things were not so simple. She ultimately made the choice, but ignoring the context doesn't make you righteous. Only ignorant, unfeeling, or both.

And for all those who love rolling out the old "Caitlyn jumped at the first chance to take power and punish all of Zaun just because her mom died" speech, lets take a look at how Caitlyn is actually feeling:

I can only speak for me, but let me tell you what I see playing out in these images point by point:

Shock

Fear

Conflict

Reassurance

Nervousness

Stoic sadness

Acceptance of responsibility

A FUCKING FIFTY SOMETHING YEAR OLD CONQUERING WAR-MONGER SEEING HER DREAM COME TRUE

But! Stepping away from Caitlyn for a moment back to more of my original point. Caitlyn and Ambessa were not alone during this moment. Ambessa had instructed Salo to summon all people of prominence and power or something to that effect. Basically the people who had a say in how things go. These are the people she puppets into agreeing to Martial Law and Caitlyn as their commander. Let's take a look at these heroes:

*Salo was there but I couldn't get a great still of him and I will give him a pass at least in the moment because Rictus was threatening him*

There were more people than this but these were the ones that I could grab in decent quality. And these were the people to make the decision. Otherwise Ambessa would not have needed them all there and gone through her whole song and dance. And I understand the argument that some of them were probably afraid due to the Noxian's doing their stomp dance, but guess what? If the adult politicians and people in power get that grace so does the college kid who recently got emotionally and mentally nuked back to the stone age.

Every single one of them let this happen. They could have stepped during it, they could have taken action after. Salo and Shoola were on the council with Cassandra. They both watch her daughter get served up on a plate to Ambessa so everyone can go about their lives feeling safer and pretending its all handled. There were enforcers there more than twice Caitlyn's age. Someone there was a position of leadership at some level. Not a single damn one made a move? Questioned? An assembly of probably between 30-50 people made up of Piltover's elite all bury their heads in the sand and let the grieving, inexperienced, young, recently returned from violent conflict college kid take the heat so they can go back to easy street and blame someone else if things go wrong.

AWARD FOR SPECTACULAR FAILURE:

We of course cannot touch on the prominent people of Piltover who might as well have spartan kicked Caitlyn into Ambessa's open maw without talking about Tobias. Listen, Anyone who has been following me for any length of time has seen my relentless attempts to get people to recognize the importance of understanding how grief and loss hits people. This man lost his wife. His entire world got turned upside down. And I don't deny that at a point even if he had stepped in Caitlyn may have shut him down as she became the leader of house Kiramman anyway. But he does.... nothing... Part of this probably just comes down to the decision by the writers for him to kind of vanish but we see him defending her efforts to help early on and then when she has so clearly lost her way we get nothing from him.

Martial Law:

So as I said, I have been through all of this in detail. Not doing it again. But since we are talking about it what did Caitlyn actually do?

Establish Checkpoints and take martial control of Zaun.

Arrest people who violated the law.

.............

Piltover elite willingly agree to Martial Law

Piltover elite agree to Caitlyn being made leader

Zaun falls under Piltover jurisdiction regardless of Martial Law or not

Somewhere in Zaun is a dangerous terrorist guilty of multiple political assassinations, the deaths of several enforcers, tremendous destruction of property, multiple attempts to murder Caitlyn herself, and violent abduction of Caitlyn who at the time was a councilor's daughter from her own home.

Zaunite fighters conduct devastating attack on memorial service in what is supposed to be a secure location. Jinx would almost certainly be suspected of involvement but even if not once again the threat comes from Zaun.

The leader they chose, who is the leader because of the martial law they agreed to, places Zaun under occupation until this clear and unquestionable threat to public safety is located. She challenges unlawful arrests, unnecessary violence, bans the use of the worst cells in Stillwater she found Vi in, and has no part in Ambessa's secret experiments and brutality in the bowels of the prison.

None of this is to say that Caitlyn did not make mistakes, did not lose herself to her rage and hate, or does not share in the blame to a degree for the suffering Ambessa caused. I think it is fair to say that Caitlyn, much like those who failed her so spectacularly, looked away from the truth because it was easier to do so at first. And that is not even factoring the massive manipulation of Ambessa upon Caitlyn during this time to keep the occupation going while she continues to try and crack hex-tech, and attempting to control Caitlyn and bend her to her will.

But the idea of the people who all turned away while Caitlyn was made Ambessa's scapegoat so they could sleep peacefully at night condemning her from on high is both disgusting, and sadly all too believable. They have already proved their cowardice and stupidity. And it would be the final betrayal of someone who wanted above all else to protect her people to subject her to some sort of tribunal/punishment in the wake of surviving her cities complete abandonment of her. Especially considering her massive life-changing injuries sustained in the defense of humanity itself while setting things right.

Regarding Zaun:

The people of Zaun are for obvious reasons another matter. There is the larger picture ongoing oppression of Zaun by Piltover to consider, and even considering all the above factors the people of Zaun:

A- Would not have any way to know how much of part Ambessa played behind the scenes until someone made it all public

B- Were the ones who actually suffered during the occupation that Caitlyn did authorize regardless of reasoning.

And just like above, I am not saying Caitlyn does not share in the blame for what occurred. While everything she did was within her scope of authority, an authority lawfully granted to her, and in response to a very legitimate threat to Piltover's safety, it does not change the fact that people imprisoned during the occupation were potentially subjected to Ambessa's brutality. Never mind the day-to-day brutality enacted by Rictus and his men.

But again there are other factors that need to be considered before constructing the gallows:

Piltover's oppression of Zaun is unquestionable. But neither is Piltover's current legal jurisdiction over Zaun. Every action Caitlyn took and was knowledgeable of was completely legal, no matter how wrong you find the law.

The Grey- I am absolutely not doing my whole breakdown again. But through the use of the grey they helped take down Shimmer and the Chem-Barons, which were both enormous threats to the under city. And while it uncomfortable and clearly dangerous when exposed over long periods of time, there is absolutely no evidence of it being dangerous from short term exposure how Caitlyn used it.

And of course, the biggest factor: JINX.

I'll make all of you a deal. Caitlyn gets a noose if Jinx hops up next to her. I love Jinx but it serves no purpose to pretend she's an angel. Jinx is the one who kicks all of this off to begin with. It is because of her that Piltover retaliation is guaranteed, because of her Caitlyn's entire life so violently and radically changes course. And let's be clear here, before you start with all that Jinx was striking out against the oppressors who had ruined her peoples lives in the name of justice and blah blah blah. Nope. Know how I know that? She hid during the entire occupation until Isha got taken. She wasn't speaking truth to power in the name of her people. She was a mentally ill child lashing out at a symbol of her rage in a moment of extraordinary grief and pain. And regarding her hiding by the way, I applauded her for it. Getting away from all of that shit is how she started to get better. As far as I'm concerned I would have cheered to see she and Isha leave that temple fight, board an airship, and head off for adventures far away from Piltover and Zaun forever (Same for Caitlyn and Vi but that's a different document).

So all that said, while Caitlyn certainly has a debt to the people of Zaun, we need to take care not to wrap that up with the debt Piltover owes to Zaun.

Caitlyn is not to blame for the entire history of the two cities. She only played a part in this series of events. And it would be dishonest not to admit that it was a Zaunite that started in the first place, the same Zaunite who changed Caitlyn's life forever through her violence and terrorism. And that the same woman who manipulated Zaunite warriors into attacking Piltover to help kick the war off manipulated Caitlyn herself.

If Silco's mad daughter can become their symbol of hope, and his most trusted lieutenant can become their first councilor, perhaps the people of Zaun can find mercy in their heart for a young woman who recently almost gave her life to make things right. Not to mention her families seat on the council.

Anyway. You have all heard most of this from me before in some form or fashion. So I apologize for that. And again I really am not coming for fan-fiction. I would be the ULTIMATE hypocrite given my recent small efforts. The particular story that got my attention just made me think about it, and then realize it would be sickeningly true to form for the Piltover elite to try and turn on Caitlyn when it was all said and done when they abandoned her the first time. And spawned into this. Thank you for reading.

Have a great day!

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

THIS WAS A PRANK?!

drew starkey x fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict readers’ appearance !!)

SUMMARY: y/n pulls her family into a trending prank where you pretend to embarrass your partner in front of your family…i wonder how drew reacts?

based on this ask!! i really hope you enjoy this @xoxosblogsblog , and i hope it’s what you asked for <3

WARNINGS: i think maybe one curse word?, just pure fluff really, me crying because i used ‘mom’ instead of mum because they’re american </3 (lmk if i missed anything!)

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

SECOND PERSON +

Drew always tried his best to make a good impression on your parents. Even after three years of dating you, meeting them countless times, and attending every family barbecue or holiday dinner you invited him to, Drew still got a little nervous around them. You found it sweet, honestly—how this confident, charming actor, adored by fans worldwide, could still feel the need to impress your mom and dad.

You were currently spending the week at your parents' house, a cozy rural home in Vermont that felt like a world away from the bustling chaos of Los Angeles where you and Drew lived.

Drew had taken the week off from filming to join you, and so far, everything had been going smoothly. That was, until you saw a TikTok prank trend earlier that morning.

The prank was simple: embarrass your partner in front of your family by saying outrageous things and watch them squirm. You couldn't resist. Drew had pulled plenty of pranks on you in the past, and this felt like the perfect opportunity for some playful payback.

While Drew was in the shower, you shared your plan with your parents.

"Are you sure he's going to find it funny?" your mom asked, trying not to laugh.

"Oh, he will," you grinned. "Eventually. After he panics a little bit."

Your dad chuckled. "I'm in. But I'm not holding back—I'll really sell it."

Your mom rolled her eyes fondly. "You two are terrible."

"We'll keep it harmless," you promised.

By the time Drew emerged from the shower, fresh and smiling in a casual hoodie and jeans, you were ready to set your plan in motion.

The four of you were gathered around the dining table, enjoying your mom's homemade lasagna—a dish Drew had raved about during every visit. You decided to start small.

"You know," you said casually, "Drew actually told me he doesn't like your cooking, Mom. He says it's too... plain."

Your mom froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. "Really?" she asked, her tone clipped.

Drew's head whipped toward you so fast you thought he might get whiplash. His eyes widened. "What? No! That's not true at all! I love your cooking!"

"Hmm," your mom said, narrowing her eyes. "That's funny, because you always seem to clean your plate."

"Exactly!" Drew said quickly, holding up his hands. "I do, because it's amazing! I don't know what Y/N's talking about. I would never say that!"

You bit back a grin and focused on your lasagna, mumbling, "If you say so."

Drew shot you a bewildered look, his brow furrowing. You could tell he wanted to press you on it, but he let it go—for now.

Later that evening, the four of you were in the living room watching a football game. Your dad had always been a big fan, and Drew had made it a point to bond with him over it.

"He doesn't actually like football, Dad," you said offhandedly during a commercial break. "He told me it's boring."

The room went silent.

"What?" your dad asked, turning to Drew with a stern expression.

"No, no, no!" Drew stammered, his cheeks flushing. "I never said that! I love football! We've watched games together! We’re both huge fans of the Kansas City Chiefs!"

"You mean the team you pretended to like just to get on my good side?" your dad said, raising an eyebrow.

Drew looked like a deer caught in headlights. "No, I swear, I really like them! I even looked up their stats before we came here so I could keep up!"

Your dad folded his arms, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "I thought we had something, Drew."

"I—Mr. Y/L/N—I mean, sir—I promise, I'm not lying!" Drew's voice grew more frantic, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing.

When your dad turned back to the game with a dramatic sigh, Drew leaned over to you. "What's going on?" he whispered.

You shrugged innocently. "I don't know what you mean."

The final straw came later that night when you were all sitting around the kitchen island, enjoying dessert.

"Mom," you said with a sigh, "Drew said he's still hungry. He wants you to make him something else."

Drew nearly choked on his forkful of pie. "What?! No, I didn't!"

Your mom gave him a sweet but pointed smile. "Well, Drew, if you don't like the pie, I suppose I could whip something else up for you."

"I love the pie!" Drew insisted, looking panicked. "I never said that! Y/N, why are you doing this?"

You shrugged again, fighting the urge to burst out laughing.

When your parents finally went their separate ways—your dad retreating to the living room and your mom heading upstairs to fold laundry—Drew cornered you in the kitchen.

"Okay," he said, crossing his arms. "What is going on?"

"What do you mean?" you asked, feigning innocence.

"Don't give me that," he said, narrowing his eyes. "You've been throwing me under the bus all day. First the cooking thing, then football, now this? I swear I didn't say any of those things!"

You tilted your head, pretending to think. "Hmm, maybe you did, and you just don't remember."

"Y/N," Drew said firmly, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice now. "Are you messing with me?"

Before you could answer, your parents reappeared in the doorway, both looking serious.

"We need to talk," your dad said, crossing his arms.

Drew paled. "About what?"

"About all these things Y/N's been saying," your mom added. "We just want to know if there's something you need to get off your chest."

"I—I don't know what she's talking about!" Drew stammered, his hands flailing as he tried to explain himself. "I love your cooking, Ms. Y/L/N and sir, I love football, and I would never ask you to make me more food! I swear!"

That was it. You couldn't hold it in any longer. You burst out laughing, doubling over as tears streamed down your face. Your mom quickly followed, and even your dad cracked a smile.

Drew stared at you all, realisation dawning on his face. "Wait... this was a prank?!"

"It was a TikTok trend!" you gasped, clutching your stomach. "I had to try it!"

Your mom patted Drew on the shoulder. "We're sorry, Drew. It was all in good fun."

He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "I can't believe you all ganged up on me."

"You've pulled worse pranks on me," you reminded him, wiping your eyes.

"Fair point," he admitted, pulling you into a playful headlock. "But don't think you're getting away with this. I'm going to get you back."

"I'd like to see you try," you teased, grinning up at him.

As Drew laughed along with your parents, you couldn't help but think how lucky you were to have someone who fit so seamlessly into your family—even if he was already plotting his revenge.

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such an adorable one :’)) i really hope you enjoyed it my lovely !!

i’m still trying to figure out a master list, so fingers crossed i’ll have it up tonight !! but for now, you can click on my personalised tags to access my fics <3

likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated !! <3

[gf2bellamy]

enough — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) summary: you don't think you're enough for spencer content warnings: mention of working on a case, feelings of insecurity / not feeling good enough, spencer and reader argue , alot of angst ( pretty much all of it) a/n: currently sick in bed :( hope you guys like this <3

You knew Spencer Reid had feelings for you. It wasn’t exactly a well-kept secret. In fact, everyone on the team seemed to know—how could they not?

The way his gaze lingered on you just a fraction longer than anyone else, the way his words stumbled over themselves when you caught him off guard, the subtle softness in his voice when he said your name.

Spencer was careful, meticulous in everything he did, but when it came to you, his emotions were a little too obvious. 

There were the small, thoughtful gestures—the extra cup of coffee waiting on your desk when you’d been up late on a case, or the way he always seemed to know exactly when you needed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Then there were the bigger things, like how he always volunteered to partner with you in the field, or how he fiercely defended your theories in meetings, even when they weren't perfect. 

But maybe the most telling sign of all was the way Spencer looked at you.

Like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing.

It was like he was memorizing every detail of your face, committing you to the library of his mind. And every time he looked at you like that, a warmth bloomed in your chest—a warmth you weren’t quite ready to name, but one that you felt more often than you cared to admit. 

Penelope had asked you multiple times about the situation, her curiosity impossible to suppress. “So, when are you and Boy Genius making it official?” she’d tease, wiggling her eyebrows and leaning across your desk.

Each time, you laughed it off or deflected with a joke. “What are you talking about, Pen? Spencer and I are just friends,” you’d insist, even though the words felt more and more like a lie with every passing day. 

Pretending to be oblivious to Spencer’s feelings had once been easy. A flick of the wrist, a casual smile—it had been enough to convince everyone, including yourself, that you were completely unaware. But lately, it was getting harder.

Much harder. 

Because now, every time you caught him staring at you, every time his fingers brushed yours while passing a file, every time he leaned in just a little too close when he explained something in that excited, rambling way of his, you felt it. That same warmth in your chest, that same ache you’d been trying so hard to ignore. 

The truth was, you weren’t just aware of Spencer’s feelings for you.

You also felt the same way. 

Your fingers tapped absently against your desk, a sound that seemed to echo in the quiet bullpen. Your eyes were unfocused, fixed on nothing in particular, as your thoughts wandered far from the case files scattered in front of you. 

Across from your desk, Spencer was watching you. He tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing in concern as he debated whether or not to say something. 

“Are you okay?” His soft voice cut through the quiet, pulling you back to the present. 

“Huh?” You jumped slightly, your hand pausing mid-tap as your head whipped around to face him. Your wide eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” you added quickly, your words rushing out. 

Spencer didn’t look convinced. He leaned forward just a little, resting his elbows on the edge of his desk as his gaze searched yours. “You seemed... distracted,” he said carefully. 

You laughed nervously, waving a hand as if to brush off his concern. “Just zoning out. It’s been a long day.” 

Spencer didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared at you for a while, his hazel eyes soft but searching, like he could see through the thin veil of your words.

The weight of his gaze made your pulse quicken, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. 

“I’ll be right back,” you blurted suddenly, pushing your chair back. Without waiting for a response, you rushed out of the bullpen, your footsteps echoing down the hallway until you reached the bathroom. 

Inside, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding and stepped into the nearest stall, closing the door behind you. Sitting down on the closed toilet lid, you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees and your head in your hands. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d run away like this. You weren’t proud of it, but sometimes it felt easier to escape than to face the thoughts that clawed their way to the surface when Spencer was near. 

People might call you stupid.

Stupid for ignoring the feelings of someone so gentle and sweet.

Stupid for pretending not to notice how much he cared for you, how much he had done for you.

Stupid for not taking the first step when it was obvious to everyone, including you, that Spencer Reid had feelings for you. 

But it wasn’t just Spencer’s feelings, was it? No, the truth was much harder to ignore now: you had feelings for him, too.

And yet, here you were, hiding in a bathroom stall, running away from everything. 

The reason felt silly—childish, even—but it was there, and it was real.

You were scared.

Scared that if you took that step, if you let yourself fall into the warmth of what Spencer was offering, you’d ruin him.

Spencer, who was so sweet and intelligent, so thoughtful and patient. He was everything good in this world, and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d taint him with your flaws, your insecurities. 

You didn’t think you were enough for him. 

The thought sat heavy in your chest, and no matter how much you tried to push it down, it always came back.

Spencer deserved someone extraordinary, someone brilliant and perfect—someone who wasn’t you. 

Before you could stop it, a tear slipped down your cheek. 

You were so lost in your thoughts that you almost didn’t hear the bathroom door creak open. 

A familiar, soft voice called out your name.

You quickly straightened up, dabbing at your cheeks with trembling fingers, but it was no use. The tears had already left their mark. 

You opened the stall door cautiously, revealing Penelope standing there in all her vibrant glory. Her floral skirt swirled around her knees, and her cardigan was adorned with her signature pins and patches.

Her warm, concerned eyes locked onto yours the moment the door swung open. 

“There you are,” she said gently, a small smile playing on her lips as she tilted her head. “Spence sent me to check on you. He’s worried.” 

Of course he did. The thought made your chest tighten. 

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, waving a hand as if to dismiss the obvious evidence of tears. But Penelope wasn’t one to be fooled, especially not by you. 

She raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Sweetheart, you’re standing in a bathroom stall looking like you just had a tearful heart-to-heart with yourself, so forgive me if I don’t take ‘I’m fine’ at face value.” 

You tried to laugh, but it came out shaky and weak. “It’s just... been a long day.” 

Penelope crossed her arms, giving you that patient, knowing look that only she could manage. “I know there’s more to it than that. Spence wasn’t just worried about you zoning out—he was worried about you. And judging by those red eyes, I’m guessing he’s not wrong for being worried.” 

You sighed, leaning against the stall door for support. “It’s nothing, Pen. Really.” 

Penelope softened, she placed a comforting hand on your arm. “If it’s nothing, why were you crying?” 

For a moment, you considered brushing her off again, but something about her warmth, her openness, made you pause.

Maybe it was because she was Penelope, the team’s heart and soul, or maybe it was because a part of you was tired of holding it all in. 

“It’s... about Spencer,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Penelope’s eyes lit up in understanding, and a soft smile crept across her face. “Oh, honey. Tell me everything.” 

You let out a shaky breath, walking over to the sink and staring at your reflection. The person looking back at you seemed fragile, her emotions etched plainly on her face.

Penelope followed, standing beside you, her vibrant presence grounding you as she waited patiently for you to speak. 

“I have feelings for Spencer,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the bathroom’s fluorescent lights. 

Penelope didn’t gasp or exclaim. She simply tilted her head and nodded, her soft smile growing into something more knowing, like she’d been waiting for you to admit it. 

“I figured as much,” she said gently, her tone free of judgment. “But what’s got you hiding out in here instead of doing something about it?” 

You met her eyes in the mirror, hesitating for a moment before answering. “Because I’m scared, Penelope.” Your fingers gripped the edge of the sink tightly. “I mean, he’s Spencer. He’s brilliant and kind. He deserves someone amazing, someone who can keep up with him. I just—I don’t think I’m enough for him.” 

Penelope frowned, her brows knitting together as she turned to face you fully. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up. First of all, I am going to stop you right there, missy. You are more than enough for anyone, especially Spencer Reid. Don’t even try to argue with me on that.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but she held up a finger to silence you. 

“Second,” she continued, her voice firm but still warm, “have you met Spencer? That man practically worships the ground you walk on. Do you know how rare that is? To have someone like Spencer look at you the way he does? Trust me, sweetie, he doesn’t see anyone else but you.” 

You blinked, Penelope’s words hitting you harder than you expected. “But what if I mess it up? What if I ruin everything?” 

“Sweetheart,” Penelope said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “life is messy. Love is messy. But if you keep letting that fear hold you back, you’re going to miss out on something incredible. Spencer wants you. Not someone perfect, not someone else. You.” 

Her words hung in the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. For a moment, all you could do was stare at her, overwhelmed by her kindness and sincerity. 

“Thank you, Penelope,” you whispered, your voice soft and earnest. 

She gave you a bright, reassuring smile, squeezing your arm gently. “Don’t stay here too long, okay? Boy Genius is worried about you, and you know how he gets when he’s worried.” 

You managed a small smile, nodding as she opened the bathroom door. “I’ll be out soon.” 

“Good,” she said with a wink, stepping out into the hallway. The door swung shut behind her, leaving you alone once again. 

You turned back to the mirror, your reflection staring back at you with the same doubts you’d walked in with. Penelope’s words were honest, comforting, and so full of truth that they made your chest ache. And yet... the doubts didn’t leave. 

They stayed. 

What if Penelope was wrong? What if you tried, and it all came crashing down, leaving your friendship in ruins? 

You pressed your lips together, inhaling a shaky breath. There was a part of you—a small, fragile part—that wanted to believe Penelope.

But the larger, louder part of you couldn’t let go of the fear. 

“Get it together,” you muttered to yourself, gripping the sink tightly. 

You couldn’t stay in this bathroom forever, hiding from the man waiting for you outside.

The man who cared enough to send someone after you when you disappeared.

The man who had always been there, quietly offering you the kind of unconditional support you never thought you deserved. 

And yet, your feet felt like they were cemented to the floor. 

The days that followed felt heavier, even after Penelope’s heartfelt pep talk. Her words lingered in your mind like an echo, but they weren’t enough to silence the whirlwind of emotions.

Everything seemed harder now that you’d acknowledged your feelings—now that you couldn’t hide from the truth. 

Sometimes, it felt like your heart was about to burst with how much love you held for Spencer.

You’d catch yourself staring at him across the bullpen, watching the way his lips moved as he explained something in that fast, excitable way of his, or the way his fingers traced invisible patterns on the edge of a file when he was deep in thought. 

And then there were the moments when you were near him—too near. Your hands would tremble when they brushed his by accident, or your breath would hitch when his cologne lingered in the air between you.

But you didn’t do anything about it. 

You convinced yourself it was for the best, that keeping things the way they were was safer. You couldn’t risk crossing that line and ruining the friendship you’d come to treasure so much. 

Still, there were cracks in your resolve. 

You weren’t sure how long you could keep this up—pretending you didn’t feel what you felt, pretending you didn’t want to close the gap between you and let yourself fall. 

One day, the tension came to a head while you and Spencer were working on the geographic profile to catch an unsub. The bullpen was unusually quiet, the rest of the team out gathering leads.

It was just the two of you, standing side by side in front of the board, the scent of coffee and marker ink filling the air. 

You reached for the same photo pinned to the board—a shot of a potential target area—and your fingers brushed his.

It was barely a touch, but it sent a jolt up your arm, and you immediately pulled back as if burned. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. You avoided his gaze, letting him take the picture as you stepped back. Not just one step—several, putting unnecessary distance between the two of you. 

Spencer hesitated, holding the picture in his hand as his eyes flicked to you. His brows furrowed slightly, concern shadowing his expression as he noticed how much space you’d suddenly created between you. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft and careful, like he was afraid of startling you. 

Your throat tightened. “I’m fine,” you said, the words automatic and unconvincing. 

Spencer wasn’t buying it. He tilted his head, his gaze searching yours in that way that always made you feel like he could see right through you.

“You’ve been... distant,” he said, his tone gentle. “Not just today, but for a while now.” 

You froze, your heartbeat quickening. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said, even though the words felt hollow in your mouth. 

He stepped closer, closing some of the space you’d put between you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty. “If I did, I—I’m sorry. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t be around me.” 

Your chest tightened painfully at the vulnerability in his voice. The idea that he thought he had done something wrong, that he might blame himself for the distance you’d created, made your stomach twist with guilt. 

“No, Spencer,” you said quickly, shaking your head. "It's just work has been getting to me.”

You turned away quickly, pretending to focus on the map pinned to the board. Your heart hammered in your chest as you felt Spencer’s eyes linger on you for a moment longer before he finally turned back to his own work. 

He let it go—for now. 

Later that evening, you were back in your hotel room, sprawled on the bed with the TV remote in hand. The case was successfully closed, the unsub in custody, but the team had decided to stay one more night before flying home.

You flipped aimlessly through the channels, barely registering the images flashing on the screen. Nothing held your attention for more than a few seconds, and the quiet hum of the TV did little to drown out your thoughts. 

With a loud yawn, you tossed the remote aside, letting it land on the bed. You leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling.  

Then came a knock at your door. 

Slowly, you got up, smoothing down your clothes as you walked to the door. 

When you opened it, your breath caught. 

Spencer stood there, hands in his pockets, his expression a mix of nervousness and determination. He was still in his dress shirt and slacks, his tie loosened just enough to suggest he’d been pacing or thinking too much, as he often did.

His hazel eyes met yours, and you saw a flicker of hesitation before he finally spoke. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice gentle but steady. 

“Spencer?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here?” 

“I—I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice laced with hesitation. He shifted his weight nervously, his hands fidgeting in his pockets. “Can I come in?” 

You stared at him, your heart racing as you tried to decipher the look in his eyes. Finally, you nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you took a couple of deep breaths, trying to prepare yourself for whatever he wanted to talk about.

Turning back around, you walked a few steps toward him, stopping just a short distance away. You were close enough to notice the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the tension in his posture as he stood there, clearly working through whatever thoughts were racing in his mind. 

You found yourself fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, your fingers twisting and untwisting the fabric as you waited for him to speak.

Finally, Spencer cleared his throat, his eyes meeting yours. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “And I know I’ve been overthinking it, probably more than I should. But I—I couldn’t keep waiting.” 

Your fingers stilled, your breath catching as his words hung in the air. 

“I’ve noticed you pulling away,” he continued, his brows furrowing slightly. “And I’ve been trying to tell myself that maybe I was imagining it, but... I don’t think I am.” He paused, his gaze searching yours. “Are you sure I didn't do something wrong? Because if I did, I’ll fix it—I want to fix it.” 

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten, guilt and affection warring within you. “No, Spencer,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He looked relieved for a moment, but the tension didn’t fully leave his face. “Then what is it? Because I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.” 

His honesty was disarming, his vulnerability leaving you with nowhere to hide. You opened your mouth, then closed it again, the words caught in your throat. 

“It’s... complicated,” you finally managed, your voice barely audible. 

Silence stretched out between you, thick and heavy. Spencer stood still, watching you intently, as if trying to piece together a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. His gaze flicked to your hands, noticing how they still fidgeted nervously with your clothes. 

And then he spoke. 

“I’m in love with you,” he said, the words falling from his lips so suddenly and so earnestly that they cut through the air like a blade. 

Your hands stilled immediately, your breath hitching as you raised your head to meet his eyes. The room seemed to shrink around you, everything else fading into the background as his words echoed in your ears. 

You hadn’t expected him to say it. Not like that. Not so bluntly, with no preamble or hesitation. And now, faced with the weight of his confession, you found yourself frozen, unsure of what to do or say. 

Spencer’s eyes darted nervously, meeting yours and then flicking away before returning.

He was waiting—for your answer, your reaction, anything. 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, your mind racing too fast to form a coherent response. 

The silence stretched on, and you saw something shift in his expression. Disappointment. 

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice tight, the hurt evident as he took a small step back. “I shouldn’t have—” 

“Stop,” you said, shaking your head, cutting him off mid-sentence. 

Spencer froze, his eyes wide and uncertain as he looked at you. 

“Don’t apologize,” you said softly, your voice trembling but resolute. You took a shaky breath.

You weren’t sure what to say to him, honestly. It was like your heart was trying to escape from your chest, but the words just wouldn’t come out. 

You looked at Spencer, his hair falling into his face just the way it always did when he was anxious or lost in thought. You had this overwhelming urge to reach out, to gently push his hair back behind his ear, but you didn’t.

Instead, you just stood there, staring at him, feeling more unsure than ever. 

"Spence, look, I—" you started, your voice faltering as you tried to gather your thoughts. 

His eyes were fixed on yours, waiting. He was so patient, so willing, and it made your chest tighten even more. You tried again, your words tumbling out as you fought to explain. 

“I didn’t want to mess things up with you. I’ve been scared that if I told you how I feel, it would ruin everything. Because... you deserve someone better than me, Spencer. You deserve someone who can give you the world, who can keep up with you... not someone like me.”

You caught yourself, blinking rapidly as the words tumbled out of you, not sure if you were even making sense anymore.

But it was like you couldn’t stop.

“I’ll ruin you, Spencer. I’ll drag you into my mess, and you’ll wake up one day and realize you could’ve had someone better. Someone who doesn’t second-guess every little thing or put up walls because they’re too scared to let anyone in.”

“That’s not how I see you,” Spencer said, his voice soft as he took a step closer to you. “You’re not a mess. You’re not some burden I’d have to carry. You’re—”

“Stop,” you cut him off, shaking your head as tears pricked at your eyes. “You don’t get it. You think I’m this... this version of me that you’ve built up in your head, but I’m not that person. I’m not perfect. I’m not enough.”

“Stop saying that!” His voice rose slightly, the frustration finally breaking through. You looked at him, startled, as he ran a hand through his hair. “You keep telling me what I should feel, what I deserve, like you get to decide that for me. But you don’t. I know what I want, and it’s you.”

“Spencer—”

“No, let me finish,” he said, stepping closer. “I don’t care about perfect, okay? I don’t care about whatever doubts you have about yourself, because none of that changes the fact that I love you. I love you for you, not some idealized version. And if you think for one second that I’m going to stand here and let you push me away because of some fear that you’re not ‘enough,’ then you don’t know me as well as I thought.”

His words hit you like a wave, but instead of feeling comforted, you felt overwhelmed. The emotions swirling between you both—the love, the fear, the frustration—felt like too much all at once.

“You’re not listening to me,” you said, your voice rising. “You think this is just me being insecure, but it’s not. This is me being realistic. You deserve someone who doesn’t bring you down, someone who doesn’t doubt themselves every time they look in the mirror.”

Spencer’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You’re the one bringing yourself down, not me. You’re the one who thinks you’re not good enough, but that’s not the truth. It’s your fear talking, not reality.”

“And maybe my fear is right,” you shot back, your voice cracking. “Maybe it’s telling me what I already know—that you’re too good for me, and I can’t be what you need.”

He stared at you, his jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath. “You think you’re protecting me by pushing me away, but you’re not. You’re just hurting both of us,” he said, his voice quiet but sharp. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like this—like I’m not alone. Like I’m more than just... me. And I’m not going to let you stand there and tell me you’re not enough.”

The room felt suffocating, the tension between you crackling like a live wire.

But still, the doubt clung to you, thick and unrelenting. “Spencer, I just... I can’t,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

His shoulders slumped slightly, the frustration in his eyes giving way to something softer—something sad. “I don’t know how to convince you,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with defeat. “But I can’t force you to believe me.”

For a moment, he just stood there, silent and still, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“I don’t know what else to say,” he finally murmured, his voice low and filled with a quiet hurt that made your chest ache.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. You felt paralyzed, the fear and doubt swirling inside you.

Spencer looked back up at you, his hazel eyes searching yours one last time, as if hoping to find something—anything—that might give him a reason to stay.

When he didn’t, a faint, bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

And then he turned, walking toward the door with a heaviness in his steps that you’d never seen before.

Your heart twisted as you watched him reach for the handle, every fiber of your being screaming at you to stop him, to say something, to fix this.

But the words refused to come.

Spencer paused for a fraction of a second as he opened the door, his back to you. It felt like time stood still. Then he stepped out, quietly closing the door behind him.

The sound of the latch clicking into place was deafening.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, staring at the closed door, your chest tight and your head spinning. The room felt unbearably empty without him.

And yet, you didn’t move. You couldn’t.

Instead, you sank onto the edge of the bed, burying your face in your hands as the tears you’d been holding back finally broke free.

You didn’t know what hurt more—the fear that you’d pushed him away for good or the possibility that you’d been wrong about everything.

[abandoned-quiche]

Chapter IV - The Killing Blow

The Narrator: You're on a path in the—

Voice of The Cheated: Okay, what the FUCK was that!?

The Narrator: —woods... excuse me?

Voice of The Cheated: He attacked us while it was still our turn! That's bullshit!

The Narrator: Okay, first of all, where the hell are you? You're supposed to be on a—

Voice of The Cheated: Yeah, yeah, on a path in the woods, we know. I think it's safe to say we're well past that now.

Voice of The Stubborn: Who CARES where we are? If we respawn in the cabin—

Voice of The Contrarian: Not sure I'd consider this a cabin anymore, really.

Voice of The Stubborn: —that just means we can get back to fighting him faster!

Voice of The Contrarian: No reaction? Really?

Voice of The Stubborn: If he attacks us during our turn, that just means we have to spend less time DELIBERATING, and more time ATTACKING! Now let's stop wasting time talking, and go FIGHT HIM!

The Narrator: Well, at least you seem to have your priorities straight, but—

Voice of The Skeptic: But *how* did he do that? We can't do anything but react - how is *he* any different?

Voice of The Opportunist: Now THAT'S a good question! Maybe he isn't different. Maybe we can attack during his turn as well!

Voice of The Stubborn: This is perfect! It means we don't have to waste all that time dodging! We can just get straight to the point.

Voice of The Hunted: No! Dodging is what keeps us alive—we *have* to keep dodging. Keep dodging until an opportunity presents itself.

Voice of The Opportunist: I like this guy. He's the only one speaking any sense around here, really.

Voice of The Paranoid: Are you all idiots? Don't any of you realize what this means? We're not safe *anywhere!* He can attack us *any time he wants!* And yet he hasn't done it until now - he's been holding back on us. Who knows what else he can do? Who knows what else he hasn't shown us?

Voice of The Broken: Exactly. It's hopeless. He's so much more powerful we could ever be. He's just been toying with us. We might as well save ourselves the suffering and just kill ourselves now.

Voice of The Smitten: It's never hopeless, as long as we have true love on our side! We must keep trying until we are reunited with our beloved, no matter how many times we have to slowly and painfully die.

Voice of The Cheated: Oh, there you are! You were quiet for so long, I thought we'd finally gotten rid of you. I think that's a new silence record, honestly.

Voice of The Cold: I was hoping he'd stay quiet forever. He never has anything new to say. It's always the same thing over, and over, and over...

Voice of The Smitten: I may be saying the same things over and over, but it is because they need to be said! Who else will express the fiery passions held deep within our heart if not myself?

Voice of The Opportunist: I think I speak for us all when I say: I don't like this guy. I think he's annoying.

The Narrator: Okay, no, hold on, how many of you are there? There's only supposed to be one of you! How many times have you been here?

Voice of The Hero: Um... I think... ten? Or... maybe eleven?

The Narrator: Eleven... oh, goodness, this is— this is... unfathomably catastrophic. Are you absolutely certain?

Voice of The Hero: Well, no, it's just an estimate.

Voice of The Cheated: I am. I've been keeping track. It's eleven.

The Narrator: This is... horrible. Every world you've been to has been damned to oblivion. You know that, right?

Voice of The Skeptic: We know that's what you've TOLD us.

Voice of The Opportunist: And we believe it wholeheartedly! You've never led us astray before. If anything, I think we could stand to listen to you *more.* That's probably why we've failed all those other times, if we're being honest.

Voice of The Hero: Uh, for clarification, our previous failures weren't for lack of trying. We did try! It's just that this is... EXTREMELY difficult.

Voice of The Broken: It's TOO difficult. Why can't any of you understand that it simply can't be done?

Voice of The Contrarian: They're lying. In fact, we've gone out of our way to disobey your instructions every step of the way! Honestly, we're just a bunch of troublemaking rapscallions, up to no good.

Voice of The Hero: Ignore him, he's just trying to get a reaction out of you. Just... trust me on this one.

The Narrator: I see... That's... horrible. But I suppose there's nothing to be done about it now. We just have to make the best of what we have. Let's just... put that out of our minds right now, and focus on anything else. Like, say, slaying the Princess. Actually, you keep talking about a "he"—who's "he?"

Voice of The Hero: The... skeleton. Over there?

The Narrator: The—...huh. I didn't even notice that was there. That's... not supposed to be there. What on earth did you do?

Voice of The Cold: Does it matter what we did? The end result is the same either way. There's a skeleton, and we have to fight him.

The Narrator: Yes, it *does* matter, actually, because if you've done something to cause there to be... a "skeleton," for whatever reason, then that means you can do something to cause there to *not* be a "skeleton."

Voice of The Hero: Wait, we can? How can we do that?

The Narrator: No, nevermind, I've already said too much.

Voice of The Contrarian: Oh, well now I *have* to know!

The Narrator: No, you don't. Believe me when I say that knowing will only make your job harder than it already is.

Voice of The Skeptic: Try to hide it from us all you like. We'll find out one way or another.

The Narrator: I'm sure you will. Now, is there still a Princess?

Voice of The Smitten: Of course there is! I'm sure of it. The Princess is right beyond that dastardly knave who's been trying to keep us apart.

Voice of The Hero: He means the skeleton.

The Narrator: Well, that's good, because that means things aren't completely ruined yet. You still have a chance to do this right. But for the love of everything, the princess is NOT "your beloved."

Voice of The Contrarian: Wait. What do you mean "completely ruined?"

The Narrator: Nothing. Pretend I didn't say that.

Voice of The Cold: It sounds interesting. I'd like to see what would happen if we ruined everything. It certainly sounds more exciting than fighting this skeleton over and over and over...

The Narrator: No. This is an INCREDIBLY dangerous train of thought. It's time to stop ruminating, and start ACTING. Just focus up, steel your nerves, and slay the Princess. Or, skeleton. Slay the skeleton, and then slay the Princess. Right. Now.

Voice of The Stubborn: FINALLY. Let's go slay ourselves a skeleton.

Voice of The Broken: Or we could do what he asks us to and leave.

Voice of The Opportunist: That's what I've been SAYING! See, this guy gets it. The skeleton's the one with the power here, after all.

Voice of The Hero: You've been saying that, yeah, but you've also been saying, like, million other different things. It's hard to tell what your opinion actually is at this point.

Voice of The Contrarian: Or, hear me out...

Voice of The Hero: Let me guess. We throw the blade out the window?

Voice of The Contrarian: NOW you're getting it!

Voice of The Stubborn: Ugh, stop wasting time already! I want to FIGHT!

* [Walk up to the skeleton.]

Voice of The Opportunist: That's a good move. Definitely the right decision.

*hmm. that expression. that's—

Voice of The Cheated: Yeah, yeah, expression of someone with a lot of internal conflict, yadda yadda yadda, we've heard it already!

Voice of The Cold: He's so dull. He hasn't said anything new in forever.

Voice of The Opportunist: Hey, have we tried attacking him during his opening monologue? That might be a good idea.

Voice of The Stubborn: YES!

The Narrator: Before the skeleton can even finish talking, you lunge toward him, blade held low. But by the time you land, he's—

Voice of The Cheated: Already somewhere else? Yeah. We know. Typical.

The Narrator: Correct.

* Hold on. What happened to me being the decider?

Voice of The Paranoid: Oh, so *now* you want to be the one making the decisions? The last six times you pushed all the responsibility of fighting onto us until something new happened.

* I thought you were the Voice of The Paranoid, not the Voice of The Petty.

Voice of The Paranoid: What—?

The Narrator: Muscle memory and reflex guide you as you evade the skeleton's attacks, but without your full attention on the fight, your performance is imperfect. A few scrapes from bones whizzing past you, a few burns from searing hot beams of light grazing your skin. Why does the skeleton have lasers?

*guess we're getting right into it, huh?

Voice of The Hunted: Stop arguing! The fight has begun! We have to keep on our toes.

Voice of The Paranoid: Now look what you've done!

Voice of The Broken: Why even bother? It won't matter in the end.

Voice of The Stubborn: He can't dodge forever. Just keep attacking.

Voice of The Hunted: No. We have to eat. Eating is important to stay healthy, and we need to be in the best condition possible if we're going to win this.

Voice of The Contrarian: Ooh, here's an idea! What if we scarf down all our food right now?

Voice of The Opportunist: You know, that's a good point—we don't know how long we'll be alive this time. We should eat as much as we can while we have the chance. Life's all about enjoying the good things while they last!

Voice of The Hunted: NO! We have to ration our food.

* We don't need to eat yet. If we ate it now we wouldn't benefit from its full potential. [Fight.]

Voice of The Hunted: This is bad too! If we're not in proper shape for his next attack we can't survive as many hits!

The Narrator: You lunge at him again, but—

Voice of The Cheated: Yeah, yeah, we know. He dodges.

*our reports—

Voice of The Stubborn: We've heard all this before! Get on with it!

Voice of The Skeptic: Am I the only one who thinks it might be important to figure out what he's talking about?

Voice of The Hunted: His words are just a distraction. Don't pay attention to them. Information doesn't matter. What matters is staying alive.

The Narrator: You tune out the skeleton's words until he begins to attack again. KARMA and adrenaline coursing through your veins, your reflexes carry you through the skeleton's onslaught. As you leap over one of the skeleton's spells, however, your leg falls below the rest of your body, dragging across the bones, its skin shredding.

Voice of The Paranoid: Shit!

Voice of The Cheated: Shit, that hurts.

Voice of The Cold: I've told you. This would be so much easier if you just stopped feeling pain.

Voice of The Hunted: No. Pain keeps us humble. Pain keeps us nimble. Pain keeps us alive.

* [Fight.]

*until suddenly—

Voice of The Stubborn: I'm TIRED of waiting! We attack him again!

The Narrator: He dodges again.

*wow. not even gonna let me finish talking, huh? your impatience has really damaged you, hasn't it?

Voice of The Stubborn: We attack.

The Narrator: He dodges again.

*i know what type of person you are. you—

The Narrator: Suddenly, he begins attacking you again mid-sentence.

Voice of The Hunted: Shit! Dodge, dodge!

Voice of The Stubborn: This is taking too long. What happened to attacking during his turn?

Voice of The Cheated: Now, I'm all for giving him a taste of his own medicine, but—

Voice of The Stubborn: We attack. Again.

The Narrator: I wouldn't recommend this course of action, but I suppose there's nothing I can do. You make no attempt to avoid his attacks, instead charging straight for him while his magic razes your lower body. Once again, he effortlessly dodges your swing. I hope you know what you're doing.

* What the hell was that?

Voice of The Stubborn: I'm doing what you all are too cowardly to do and FIGHTING! We attack again!

* Okay, no. We'll die if we do that again. We're eating. [Eat the Legendary Hero.]

Voice of The Hunted: Finally!

Voice of The Hero: Still not comfortable eating something called that.

Voice of The Smitten: I'd brave any amount of discomfort if it means getting us closer to our beloved.

Voice of The Hero: You've been surprisingly quiet lately.

Voice of The Cheated: Shhh. I like him better this way.

Voice of The Smitten: How dare you! If you find my passions so offensive, perhaps you should go somewhere else! I will not let my feelings be stifled for the sake of others. In fact, I'm going to talk more from now on.

Voice of The Hero: Now look what you've done.

The Narrator: You eat the Legendary Hero. The flavors of the sandwich's ingredients dance across your taste buds in tandem, creating something greater than any of them could ever be individually—

Voice of The Cheated: We know how it tastes.

The Narrator: Fine. As chunks slide down your throat, they dissipate into nothing. You feel your pain ease up as your body, as if by magic, heals at a remarkable pace.

* Actually, can we speed this along? We've seen this enough times already. We know how it goes. I attack, he dodges, he attacks, I dodge, and every once in a while I eat something. You can just describe the rest of the battle, right?

The Narrator: This feels reckless. Are you really going to relinquish your decision-making ability just to make things go a little faster? What if that bloodthirsty one takes control of you again?

Voice of The Paranoid: I'll hold him back.

Voice of The Hero: Ditto. He won't get another chance to do that again.

The Narrator: Well, alright then. You fall into the rhythm of the battle, the skeleton throwing jagged reflections of his own body parts at you while you gracefully dance out of the way of them all. Sometimes you find yourself falling towards the ceiling, or weaving around white hot beams of light, but none of it seems to faze you anymore. For every attack you avoid with near perfection, you dish out another swing of your own. But the skeleton evades yours flawlessly and without effort. Or so it seems, until...

*ugh... that being said...

Voice of The Cheated: Oh, we're wise to your tricks now!

Voice of The Smitten: Your devilish deceptions shan't fool us anymore! You are the only thing standing between us and the Princess, and we will not rest until you are vanquished!

Voice of The Opportunist: Honestly, I'm shocked anyone fell for this. It was obvious from the beginning he was just trying to get the upper hand.

Voice of The Hero: You were the first one to suggest we take his offer!

Voice of The Paranoid: Focus!!!

Voice of The Stubborn: WE ATTACK!

The Narrator: He dodges.

Voice of The Hero: Shit, sorry! I forgot!

* It's fine. Narrator, you can speed things up again.

The Narrator: Right. Whatever. What else am I good for. You continue to exchange near-blows as the skeleton- hold on, what was that he said about you "consuming timelines?" That's rich, coming from *him.* He's the one preventing you from saving the world in the first place! Whatever. You keep dodging until it's time for his "special attack."

Voice of The Hero: Wait, what? For real? We made it?

Voice of The Paranoid: FOCUS!

Voice of The Hero: Shit!

Voice of The Stubborn: WE ATTACK!

The Narrator: He dodges. Again.

*heh, didja really think you would be able to-

Voice of The Opportunist: NOW!

The Narrator: You attack again, this time catching him off guard. In a single strike, an enormous gash forms across his entire body.

Voice of The Cheated: Holy shit! We did it! We actually did it!

Voice of The Stubborn: YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Voice of The Hero: Wait, really? We've done it?

Voice of The Opportunist: We've done it! And it was all thanks to me, really. Where would you be without me?

Voice of The Cold: About time. This whole routine was getting so dull.

Voice of The Broken: What...?

Voice of The Skeptic: Finally. We can finally find some answers.

Voice of The Smitten: More importantly, we can finally see our beloved!

Voice of The Hunted: No time to celebrate. We never know when another threat might present itself. We have to stay on guard.

Voice of The Paranoid: No, we can't have defeated him. It can't have been that easy.

The Narrator: It was. It's over.

Voice of The Contrarian: As amazing as I'm sure your reaction to it would be, I'm going to refrain from killing all of us right now because I *really* don't want to go through all of that again.

Voice of The Hero: How generous.

* [Proceed.]

The Narrator: You make your way to the end of the corridor. There... isn't a staircase leading to a basement, but after the random skeleton, this is honestly the least of my concerns. You walk through the grey halls, the cold stone chilling your feet, until you find a doorway to a grand throne room. Grass and flowers peek through the frame, as if inviting you to step inside. If the Princess lives here... no, that doesn't work here, does it?

* [Enter.]

The Narrator: You stand inside a regal throne room, the walls shining gold. In the center lies a throne, seated in a bed of golden flowers. In front of it, the silhouette of...

OH! GREETINGS, BIRD MONSTER!

Voice of The Smitten: There he is! Our beloved!

The Narrator: ...a second skeleton wearing a blonde wig.

something's wrong with my copy of Slay the Princess

[fivewholeminutes]

How to avoid being spoiled with ST members' identities

A not so short guide for tumblr newcomers

Hello new fans and (probably) tiktok refugees! This is a guide on how to enjoy sleep token online without being spoiled and also, a guide on how not to be a twat at the same time.

It is rather long, but please give it a chance. If not for you, then for other people who do not want to be spoiled.

I was thinking about making a reminder post about it for ages and recent post from @zelink-stan02 inspired me to make it sooner!

Tumblr is one of not many places online where the chances of you getting jumpscared with the guys' faces and names are minimal. You're not completely safe here, but it's still way better than on other platforms. And a lot of users try to keep it that way.

So, the basics for people who want to avoid spoilers online!

No twitter. That is a place of no honour. No exceptions. Nothing good ever comes from ST twitter. Also i am not calling it x.

Tiktok is also not safe. But most of you probably know that.

Pinterest is a super quick way to see all their faces.

Idk about facebook, but i bet there are morons commenting with their legal names there too. Like on twitter.

Googling is very tricky. Image results will most likely show you their faces among 20 first photos and if you do google them. Well. The main search used to show the names as suggestions up here before; I'm glad to see that for now this is fixed:

BUT LO AND BEHOLD. Pictures tab gives you a treat (derogatory) of a full vessel's name RIGHT THERE:

First suggestion. They're not even trying. So yeah, googling is very tricky.

I didn't scroll further to the right, but i bet ii's name is there too. (Their names are spoiled most often, cause they're writing the songs.)

7. If you look for the lyrics, google sometimes shows vessel and ii's legal names in songwriters' credits. I haven't seen it recently, but it doesn't mean you won't see [redacted] instead of "Vessel 1" and so on in the credits. Try not to scroll too far when checking the lyrics. I think Apple music shows their names in lyics all the time, someone correct me if I'm wrong though.

FORTUNATELY,

if you want pictures, band info, older rituals' shenanigans etc. etc., we have real mvp's here on tumblr!

@sleepanonymous has it all. Including an archive of band-related stuff and also older (mostly) vessel's stuff without any names or faces revealed. Just older songs, if you're curious! Sleep Anon has a neat google drive archive too. Please check the tags and other links in their pinned post!

We also have another pillar of our community here, @thesleeptokenarchive, who shares older rituals' details, song release dates and many other important information and dates.

My dear friend @a-s-levynn created this beautiful archive with band pictures for people who want to find that very specific picture without having their faces spoiled. Behold, the Sleep Token Reference Archive (STRA). Perfect for artists, but not only!

Beautiful people @kaddyssammlung, @vulcanette and @chaosandchaos are posting cool band photos they find regularly. Others too, but these three are the most active! We're also lucky to have @hecetas here, posting their original photos of the band (and not only!)

Also, The Choir is not anonymous. The band itself shared their actual name, Espera, and the ladies are not faceless. It was their decision, band supported it, so you don't need to worry to keep them anonymous.

Last but not least! How not to be a twat in the sleep token fandom space on tumblr:

Do not tag any band-related stuff with their names or older projects' names.

Do not post photos of their faces and tag it as the band or band members.

If you want to sceam about the love you have for that one older Vessel's project, the not solo one, you can do it here: @wings-of-clay

If you are a curious being and face/names reveals don't mean much to you, you can always scream about their past projects with your closest friends in the DMs. Or ask literally anyone here if they want to talk about those things without revealing those things' names publicly. Most of us have their faces and names spoiled anyway. But trust me, you don't need to put any names for us to understand what you mean.

Not exactly a tumblr thing, but! One of the band members streams on twitch. It is an unspoken rule to NOT mention anything band-related in the chat. No "worship", no band name, other members' names, nothing. He wants to keep those things separate. You get blocked there or he stops streaming for everyone if you're too pushy.

And remember folks, digging too much into their personal lives guarantees a court case against you!

I'm not joking. There is a person who is going to face charges for being way too parasocial and stalker-y about them. Do not be like that person. This applies to all public figures, not only sleep token. But some people take anonymity as a challenge to dig even deeper for all their info.

Last, but not least! I have the names spoiled and i don't mind talking about old projects and stuff. So I'm here for you if you want to google something, but are afraid of a face reveal, or if you just wanna talk about the older stuff (tho i admit, i don't know much about previous bands/projects of all of them). However, I will not be engaging in anything related to their private lives or families and I will block you on spot if you mention anything like this to me.