#you really don’t understand how much this means to me

[moonstruckme]

hiiii mae if you’re up for it would you pretty please write spencer and intern reader when she gets hurt? holding her hand while she gets patched up or comforting her when she’s concussed or something of the like. i love your writing so much xoxoxo

Thank you for requesting <3

cw: blood, concussion, vague mention of a murder case but it's really just background

Spencer Reid x intern!reader ♡ 946 words

“Look this way, please.” 

When you don’t move, Spencer gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “Hey. Can you look over there?” 

You turn your face from Spencer’s jacket, and the paramedic gives you a kind smile. She knows you weren’t ignoring her; you only hadn’t been paying attention. “Follow my finger,” she tells you. 

Spencer watches as you do, her pen light gliding over your bloody face. There are tear tracks diluting the red. 

Staying with witnesses is supposed to be a safe part of the job. That’s why Hotch assigned it to you. But when Morgan walked the handcuffed unsub through the station, one victim’s husband lost it completely, and when you got into his warpath he shoved you so hard Spencer heard your head knock against the precinct’s tile floor. Blood puddled around your left temple before anyone could even make it to you. 

You started crying nearly as soon as you woke up. It was more than understandable, given the blood all around you and the confusion you must have been feeling after a head injury like that, but what scared the team was when you wouldn’t stop. JJ tried talking to you, even Morgan softened his teasing and offered you a hug, but to everyone’s surprise all you wanted was Spencer. You calmed some once he sat down in front of you. Tears still dribbled from your chin, but you didn’t seem quite so distraught, and you let the paramedics look at you so long as Spencer stayed. Eventually he wound up in the back of an ambulance, an arm around your shoulders while you sniffled miserably into his windbreaker and a paramedic applied butterfly bandages to the cut on your head. 

Your eyes water as the paramedic clicks off her pen light and begins asking you questions. It takes a few moments for your gaze to settle on her. 

“It’s…it’s Wednesday.” You turn to Spencer. “Is it Wednesday?” 

His heart throbs at the vulnerability in your tone. “Focus on her,” he says, softening the directive with a stroke of his thumb over your shoulder. 

You turn back to the paramedic, answering her questions with varying degrees of uncertainty. Your fingers curl in the material of Spencer’s jacket. He has the urge to tuck your head underneath his chin. 

The paramedic informs you (or informs Spencer, really, you’re not paying much attention) that they’re going to take you to the hospital for a CT scan. They’ll let him ride there with you if he wants to. Spencer says yes without a thought. 

While she goes to pack up her supplies, he takes your fingers and unbunches them, warming your palm between his. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks you. 

You make a soft, stymied sound, bringing the unhurt side of your head to Spencer’s shoulder for a rest. “I don’t like this.” 

Spencer doesn’t need to ask which part you mean. He imagines none of it is pleasant. The light and sound of an ambulance in general has to be torment for your head. 

“Try closing your eyes,” he suggests. 

“I’m worried that will make me dizzier.” 

“Do you feel sick?” 

“Not really.” 

“Just try. It helped last time.” 

You sigh but do. You turn your head so your forehead is pressing into the bump of his shoulder, and Spencer reaches up to stop you before you can get close to rubbing against the bandages keeping your cut closed. 

Your voice is a watery consistency. “I really don’t feel right.” 

Spencer feels a painful tug in his middle. “I know. I’m sure it’s scary, but it won’t be forever. We’re going to the hospital, and the doctors are going to make sure you’re okay.” 

“I just don’t like this.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“Spencer?” 

“Hm?” 

“I really feel like I messed things up.” 

He has to remind himself not to move. In his surprise, his instinct is to pull back, to search your face for answers, but you’re pointed where he can’t see you with your voice trailing down his arm. 

“You didn’t. What makes you think that?” 

“It just…it feels like…” 

The words take a while to come. Spencer forces himself to set aside his curiosity. 

“It’s okay,” he says gently. “You don’t have to think about that right now. Just rest. You didn’t mess anything up.” 

“It feels like I’m…” you forge on, determined. “I’m always either not helping or in the way.” 

Again, Spencer’s first thought is to ask what you mean by that. But he doesn’t want to force you to overexercise your injured brain, so he tries to go along without elaboration. He fills in the gaps. 

“You’ve never been in the way,” he assures you, meaning it. “And you help us a lot. We wouldn’t be nearly as efficient without you, especially on this last case.” 

“I’m just an intern.” 

“Exactly. So it’s even more impressive how valuable you’ve been to our team.” 

You’re quiet for a few moments. Spencer starts rubbing slow circles into your shoulder with his thumb. Your forehead warms his arm through the jacket. 

“Thank you for staying with me. You’re always so nice.” 

“It’s no problem. I like hanging out with you.” 

“I don’t feel very well.” 

“Are your eyes still closed?” 

A pause. “Were they supposed to be closed?” 

Spencer smiles at the top of your head. Even confused as you are, there’s a familiar note of inquisitiveness to your tone. Like all you ever really want is to be sure you’re doing the right thing. Spencer is warmed that you trust him to tell you what that is. 

“Try closing them.” 

“Oh. This is better, thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.”

[changeling-droneco]

This all feels like mostly misunderstanding on empathy v sympathy, one is an emotional knee jerk, the other is a choice, one cannot pick and choose empathy as it is simply something that happens or it doesn’t happen. When someone says they empathize with say, Elon’s abuse as a child, they are not wishing him well or giving him quarter. It’s a simple response of your brain wincing and giving you a stimulation to the thought of pain.

It’s your brain simply going “you know it would suck to be nicked in the ear by a bullet, let’s get all shaky as we imagine what it would be like and how bad we’d feel as a way to connect” the character of the person tends to come second, as it’s your brain trying to understand the stimuli of another persons emotions to foster a general connection and understanding of the emotions of a situation. It’s all done under the hood, what you do with that empathy is up to the person, but the existence is moral neutral so punishing people who talk about it is cruel and pointless.

However on the flip side it’s also true that people who do not have that moment of internal wince did not really decide that either, a lack of empathy is also moral neutral and shaming someone for being cruel or stupid for not having it is also wrong.

It also has little to do with actually humanizing inherently, you can feel empathy for someone as you kill them, and you can feel no empathy as you pull someone out of a car crash. It’s all just brains being wired a bit differently. Some people will mirror pain and emotions more or less then others, and that itself is expected and normal.

I personally as part of my autism have a much higher then normal empathy, it doesn’t make me any better at humanizing people or being kind, it just is something where the emotions and feelings of someone is easily overwhelming for me so it can take a moment to recalibrate because ow. If anything it can be worse then if I didn’t because a response can be less “ow this hurts me let me help” and more “this hurts me, get rid of it now” which very much makes you want to alienate and dehumanize in an attempt to jerk away from the pain.

It all just means to have a bit of patience with the people who have to take a moment to compose themselves and having a bit of understanding for those who don’t. You don’t gotta sympathize, but empathy shouldn’t be penalized in either direction of too little or too much.

I thought it was fairly normal to feel empathy for bad people.

I thought it was common, even.

But after my Elon/Grimes post... now I'm wondering if I was mistaken about that.

I wrote a post about Trump being traumatized after his assassination attempt and a post about his poor adaptation to aging. I expressed sympathy for him in both cases. But I still maintain my white hot hatred of him and wish for him to face consequences.

Elon was abused by his father. Some of the stories are incredibly tragic. Hearing those stories triggers an involuntary response in my emotional systems that I can't stop no matter how much I despise present-day Elon. I also wonder if that abuse never occurred maybe we wouldn't be dealing with this current clusterfuck.

I have never held so much anger towards a single person as I do my brother. But I also see him as a victim of abuse. I know he was once a really good person and he was slowly corrupted. I feel sorry for him. I mourn the amazing person he used to be. And I still love him.

But that doesn't make me any less angry.

[venusalexian]

solet • let me do this for you

part 1

barça femení x teen!reader, alexia putellas x teen!reader

in which you finally let someone in, and Alexia accepts that she’ll be having a bigger role in your life than she first expected

Ale had driven you to the grounds this morning, as she tends to do now if she has a free day when you have a game. You were so excited for this game. Your grandpa had recuperated well from his surgery, even if he now needed some extra care, and Ale’s presence in your life had become a constant. You couldn’t believe this was your life now.

You went into the game eager to win, to score, to lead. By half time, you had scored once and provided an assist. You were on fire, but everything changed when you stepped into the tunnel and Ale was waiting for you, a worried frown in her face.

“Solet, I need you to stay calm while I tell you this, okay?.” She said. “Your neighbor called, they’ve had to take your grandma into the hospital because she fainted. They firmly believe she’s going to be okay. I will drive you to the hospital right now if that’s what you want.” You can’t believe she’s even doubting it. There is no way you’re making it back out into the pitch now.

“Please Ale, let’s go.” You rush to the locker room to get your things and run all the way to Ale’s car, impatient.

“It’s all gonna be okay, I promise.” Ale says as she lays her free hand on your arm, the other on the steering wheel.

You really want to believe her, but you don’t really think she has the ability to fulfill this one. You don’t respond. You just lay your head against the window and let its coldness ground you to reality.

As soon as you get to the waiting room you make a beeline for your grandfather, who sits in a corner. He’s recuperated from his surgery, but he still can’t stand for long periods of time and needs help remembering to take his meds.  You break down as soon as you’re in his arms.

”Oh, mi niña, everything’s gonna be okay. She was awake when they got her into the ambulance. It was just a big scare, but she’s going to be okay.”

You nod against his chest but don’t detach from his hold. You won’t believe it until you see her with your own eyes and doctors confirm it, but you appreciate the comfort of his words. You turn a bit to look to your left. Ale is talking with your neighbor. She has her capitana face on. That relaxes you further.

You hate how unhelpful you’re being. You should be more composed, asking questions, making sure your grandpa is also okay, planning for any contingencies that might come from this incident. But you can only cling, and cry, like a child. So you’re happy to see that Ale has taken control of the situation, because at least somebody has. You’ve been trusting her with more of yourself and your life over the past months, and you’re so, so glad about it now. She looks over at you, and you know she understands what it means to you. The guilt of your impotence stays, but the pressure eases and you let yourself just fall.

Alexia is looking at you and seeing a kid. A strong, resilient kid. But a kid. So she takes charge, and she accepts that caring for you is coming more naturally to her every day. And as she waits with you for news about your grandma, she gradually also accepts the role she wants to play in your life. More than she’d let herself in the past, more than she’s ever said out loud.

“So… Why are the kids talking about you adopting another kid?” Marta approached Alexia with a massive smirk at the end of training.

“Yeah Ale, I thought you’d at least talk to me before you got a kid outside of this team.” Oh, Irene was having too much fun with this conversation.

“First of all, there is no another, I don’t have any kids, period.” A chorus of ‘hey’ and ‘rude’ was heard from the other side of the room, most notably (and loudest) by Vicky and Jana. Alexia just rolled her eyes. Apparently, the whole team was a part of the conversation now. “And secondly, I have not adopted a kid. I’m just… mentoring.”

“Mentoring? Is that what they call it now? Mentoring is driving a kid to and from practice?” Jana continued teasing her.

Alexia had gotten into the habit of driving you when she could especially to and from late night practices, thinking that it was much too late for you to be out taking public transportation.

“Or staying to watch those practices?” followed Sydney, who’s joking character was coming more and more out as she became more comfortable with the first team.

Now, Alexia knew how to perfectly justify this one.

“I am captain of this team, I have a duty to check in with the B team and source for talent.” she answered, feeling smug.

“Oh, and is having Sunday lunch with her and her family a form of recruitment?” added Vicky, who had become closer with the teen and had taken to chatting with her on occasion.

Alexia actually didn’t know how to respond to this one. She had taken your grandmother’s invitation a couple of time when you had Sunday morning games and she had a free weekend. She loved getting to know you more by spending time with you and your grandparents. And although she thought you pressured yourself too much, she saw herself reflected in your protectiveness, diligence and sense of responsibility toward your family and team.

“Better yet. Why did your girlfriend text me asking if I could give her more information about the kid because she wants to make a good impression when you bring her over for Sunday dinner at your mom’s this weekend?” added Ingrid.

Alexia muttered “traitor” as the locking room erupted in chaos. Everyone knows how much it means for their protective and family-oriented captain to introduce people to her family.

“Okay, enough. I care about her, yes. And she doesn’t have too many people on her corner, so I decided to become one.”

Everyone softened at that, understanding the importance and vulnerability of the statement.

“Now, no more social chit-chat about my life or you’re all running three times as much before practice.”

The soft expressions were replaced with groans, complaints and the occasional soft object thrown at her. Oh how she loves her fútbol family.

Your neighbor has had to leave; she has her own family to care for. So it’s just you, your grandpa, and Ale. Each sitting on a seat to your side. The doctor comes out after a half hour of waiting. The good news is that she’s okay, she’s awake, and there is nothing life-threatening. It feels like a toll has been lifted off your shoulders. But then he continues: it was a big fall, a symptom of an underlying heart condition. It means more medication and the possibility for this to happen again or other bad things. You feel dizzy again. You only hear bits and pieces of the rest: needs more monitorization, will need more constant care for a couple of weeks, she’s gonna stay overnight, you’ll be able to see her soon. You cling to the last part to stay in touch with reality.

Ale sees you drowning, so she asks, “Do you trust me to help, to take over now and help you through this? Let me do this for you?”

You nod. You need her to. You don’t even have any space in your worrying to overthink what this means or why she’s willing to do all this for you. You need her now, and the rest will come when everything’s more calm.

“I’m gonna make a few calls, okay? Can I tell a couple of people what is going on? The girls, mami and Olga are all worried. I won’t say much, just a quick update, okay?”

You nod again. You haven’t uttered a word since you got into Ale’s car. You can’t. So when she nods back, you hide your face in your grandpa’s chest again. You try to distract yourself with happier memories until you can see your grandma again. Thinking of her still hurts, so you focus on your team, your friends, and the people in Ale’s life you’ve met in the past weeks.

You felt dizzy from anticipation. You kept bouncing your leg in the passenger seat, and checking your outfit on the rear-view mirror. Ale noticed your fidgeting and laid her free hand on your shoulder.

“Are you nervous?” her eyes didn’t stray from the road but you noticed her half-grimace. Ale is not the best at not asking obvious questions, but you know it’s because she doesn’t know how to start the conversation otherwise.

“Yeah, I just…” you also grimaced, feeling like a little kid. “I want them to like me.” you mumbled, embarrassed.

“Oh, solet. They will. Mami is a natural caretaker, she’ll take you under her wing immediately. And Alba and Olga will just love having one more person to team up with against me.” Ale rolled her eyes, fondly.

She exudes a different type of softness when she talks about the women in her life, even when she fakes being annoyed at their antics. Her response calmed you, though.

Ale was absolutely right, of course.

As soon as you entered Ale’s home, her mom was giving you a massive hug and when she pulled away, she told you how beautiful you are and that she was really excited to meet you. You were blushing again. She hugged her daughter next, and then motioned for you both to go to the living room while she finished cooking. You offered to help, and you were rewarded with a wide smile and a pinch to your cheek. Ale got a quip that “she ought to keep her instead of her daughters if she keeps this helpfulness up”.

You’re still flushed when you reached the living room with Ale to find her sister and girlfriend sitting at the table in conversation. They stood up when you entered the room. Her sister moved to you, hugged you and introduced herself. You opened your mouth to do the same but she interrupted before you could utter a word.

“Oh, I know who you are. Ale won’t shut up about you.” You both turned to her, but she was too busy kissing her girlfriend to notice. Alba covered your eyes and shouted. “Women, not in front of the kid!”

You smiled as Alba moved away her hand and smiled back at you, all nerves forgotten by now, replaced by warmth. Ale and Olga were walking towards you both now, Ale’s hand on the small of her back. Olga hugged you, and her smile was just as warm and soft as Ale’s. 

“Yeah, Ale hasn’t shut up about you. We’re all really excited to meet her mini-me.” And there you were, blushing again. Had Ale really referred to you like that? Before you could ask, Ale’s mom called the four of you to finishing setting up as dinner was ready.

Conversation during dinner flowed. Ale was right, you had nothing to worry about and the night went perfectly. They all asked about you, eager to get to know you better. Alba and Olga did use your presence to rile Ale up. They shared embarrassing stories as she blushed and covered her face.

“I’ll lose my tough captain facade, stop.”

“You never had one to begin with, Ale”

By the time dinner ends, you couldn’t even believe you had been so nervous to meet them. Ale and Olga offered to drive you home. As you and Olga waited for Ale to finalize some arrangement with her mom, she put her arm around you, as the night had unexpectedly cooled and neither of you had come dressed for it. You basked in the comfort of her warmth and touch.

“I’m so glad Ale brough you over.” You looked up to the older woman, her smile exactly like Ale’s. “She is right, you know? You’re such a solet. I’m so glad you have each other.” Before you could respond, Ale was ushering you both inside the car and the motion of the road and the fullness from dinner lulled you to sleep. You miss their smile at your sleeping form, and their unspoken understanding of their care for you.

By the time Alexia finishes texting and calling, she has a plan. Alexia does well with plans, likes to prepare for things. But she has to talk to your grandparents first, and she doesn’t know how that conversation is going to go. Alexia is also quick on her feet, though, and works with what’s given. Knows how to fight for what she thinks is right.

It doesn't take long for a nurse to come by and lead the three of you to your grandma’s room. You cry again when you see she’s okay. You can’t cling to her like you did with your grandpa, so you’re content to sit by her side and hold her hand while she asks questions about the game, and you do your best to respond to her. Your words are stilted, but Ale and your grandpa smile because it’s the most you’ve spoken in hours.

After some more assurances, your grandma convinces you to go down to the cafeteria with your grandpa to have dinner. You’re hesitant to comply, but both her and Ale reassure you and don’t accept no for an answer. You give them one last glance to reassure yourself everything is okay befor eyou leave the room.

Alexia is nervous to be left alone with your grandma. She needs to start the conversation she knows is coming and despite the encouragement from her family, she isn’t sure to be ready for it. She doesn’t have to be, though, because your grandma beats her to it.

“She needs you.” There’s a heavy silence that follows; Alexia doesn’t know how to respond.

“She needs you because she’s a kid but doesn’t accept it. We both know that this incident means that both I and my husband need more help than she should be burdened by. She’s stretched thin enough, she already does too much. We want her to have fun, be a kid, a student, a footballer. Not a nurse, or a caretaker. She can’t do that if she’s constantly worried about us. And I know you know all this.”

Alexia stands seriously and silently and measures her words before speaking. She knows what’s next, but this is not her family, she doesn’t want to overstep. But if directly asked for her input, she’ll do it. She’ll take care of everything. For you. 

“I do, yeah.”

“We need that kind of help but it can’t come from her. So will you help? I’ve seen you grow closer to her, she admires you so much, relishes your attention and care. If we ask you for it, if she agrees, are you ready for this?”

Alexia doesn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

She can see the tension leave your grandma.

“Good. Now we can talk specifics. What’s your plan? Tell me and then we can tell her together.”

In the morning after you, Ale and your grandpa went home to sleep –Ale taking the couch even if you insisted on her taking the bed–, it’s Ale also who drives back to the hospital and brings your grandma home when she’s released. All four of you sit in the living room and when you try to fuss over your grandma, all three of them reassure you she’s okay.

“Mi vida, we have something to discuss.” Your grandma starts, and you squirm, uncomfortable at being out of loop.

“Alexia and us have a proposal for you, mi niña. We’ll do only what you want us to, but we think this is the best for all of us, and especially you.” You don’t respond to your grandpa, just nod, the anticipation driving you crazy. Your grandma takes over the conversation again.

“We love you so much, mi vida. We love how kind you are, how responsible, and how much you care for us. But your grandpa and I need more help, and we want you to not be burdened by it.” You’re about to protest –they’re not a burden, would never be, you love them and you’ll always care for them–but Ale stops you.

“Ssh, solet, listen to what we have to say first, okay?” You nod again instead of responding.

“So remember when I made a few calls yesterday at the hospital? I set up a couple of things. First, there is a home-care medical team that will be taking care of your grandparents from now on. They’re the best, but we still get to pick who’s going to be coming to stay with them for continued care. You’ll be part of that decision too.”

You exhale, thankful that Ale took over arranging this service. Deep down, you know that even if you would have tried your hardest, your grandparents need specialized care you wouldn’t be able to provide.

“And we also thought something else, but we’ll only do this if you want to and completely at your pace.” You become uneasy again at their own nervous expressions.

“Mi vida, we’ve thought that you spend so much time moving from here to the city, and it’s not benefitting you in your studies, or your football career, so Alexia kindly offered an arrangement that we think will work for all of us.”

“Solet, I’d like it if you moved in with me.” There is nothing but shock in your expression now. You have no idea how to respond, this being the last thing you expected from this conversation.

“We were thinking you could stay with me over the week, so you can go to a school that is more understanding of your football career, like many of your teammates, and be closer to the training grounds. You’ll come back to stay over weekends with your grandparents, so you’ll still see them a lot. And you can obvious tell me anytime you wanna be with them, and we’ll make it work so you never feel detached.”

You stop her nervous rambling with an obvious question, still in shock.

“You really want me to move in with you? Are you sure?”

Her smile is so, so soft again. Her eyes so kind, but also somewhat exasperated, she can’t believe you don’t understand how much she cares for you yet.

“Yes, solet. And before you ask. Yes, I’ve talked to Olga, she also thinks this is good. She’s in and out of the house these days because of work in Madrid so she thinks this is actually good for us both, apparently I don’t struck her as someone who lives well alone.” She rolls her eyes when she shares that part, but she’s still smiling.

“And, avis, you think this is best for all of us? Because I’ll still miss you a lot, but you’re right that I’ve been struggling these days.”–you finally admit–“And I guess if there’s a professional caring for you here and I can call you anytime and come often, then, I guess, it seems like a good solution to me too.”

All three of them smile widely at you, glad that you see the same things they do.

“Yes, mi niña, we do. And this is always your home, you can be here as much as you want to.”

“Okay” You say, and it feels definitive, the start of something.

—

an:

so here’s the second part of solet! it took me a bit longer than expected but I wanted to do a good job at setting everything up and it made it longer than i initially expected.

this is the end of setting up the arc, and stories from now on will be just instances of solet’s life :)

I already have some ideas drafted, but I’m super eager to get requests and asks about this world of what kind of things you’d like to see from solet’s life.

thank you for reading!

xoxo, a.c.

[plutoslastwords]

I see lando as a single dad too and I was wondering if you’d ever write daughter!reader when she’s a teenager and is going through, well her first menstrual cycle and he’s so completely lost lol

shark week

lando norris x daughter!reader

summary: lando has no idea how a woman's body works, baby norris doesn't listen in health class. the outcome? chaos.

warnings: your first period?

w/c: 1.5k

a/n: okay so i know that it may be unrealistic that a 12 year old would have never heard of a period but idc. it works in the story. sorry for being so mia!! school is terrible atm 😩😩 love you all!! promise i am working on the requests xx

~~~

Going to high school in Monaco was not fun at the best of times.

Everyone says that surely it must be great! It’s Monaco! But when you don’t speak the language fluently - though you have got quite good after living there for 12 years of your life - and have just transferred to a new secondary school where you know no one, life isn’t great. 

Everyone in Monaco has one or two parents who are rich and famous in some way, meaning you can’t even pull the famous dad card to get yourself some friends. You’re stuck sitting alone at lunch, and being picked last for every team.

Lando hates it. He hates it so so much. He doesn't think he can stand seeing his baby coming home sad every afternoon, and he hates how sometimes he can’t be there to comfort you when life is feeling especially tough. He’s debated many a time just sending you to a boarding school back in England, where at least you could speak the same language as the kids there, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to cope with being apart from you for that much of the year.

Therefore, both you and your dad just have to cope with the unfortunate situations, hoping and wishing that soon enough you’ll find your own feet and make some friends. 

Back to the fact that school in Monaco isn’t great on the best days, school in Monaco is absolute hell on the worst days.

On this particular day, you were sitting in Maths class, your least favourite, how were you meant to be able to understand maths in French when you didn’t even understand it in English. It was whilst the teacher was going on about something to do with algebra that you decided that you’d had enough, you put your hand up and quickly asked to go to the bathroom, you weren’t bothered about this anymore.

You took your normal long route around school to get to the bathrooms, having no intention of going back to your maths class anytime soon. You finally get to the bathrooms and it is there that you learn that you’re going to die.

You know that it is not normal to have blood in your pants. It can’t be normal. You must be dying. You sit there in shock for a moment, before starting to hyperventilate and presume the worst. 

When looking back, Lando knows that it is probably his fault that you got yourself into this situation. You never really listened in your Health classes, as they were all in French, and so it was probably his responsibility to educate you on what was going to happen at a certain point, but he’s still just a young guy, that was not top of his list of what he wanted to talk to his preteen daughter about!

You sit in the bathroom stall sobbing and shaking, surely this is the end, you were practically waiting for the Grim Reaper himself to come and pluck you away. In your disorientated mind the only thing that you can think to do is call Lando.

“Daddy I’m dying!” You bawl into the phone, the words barely coming out through your intense sobs.

Immediately Lando drops everything he was doing, freezing at your distressed tone, his mind going straight to the worst. “Baby?!? What’s going on, are you okay?!?” He practically shouts down the phone.

“No!!” You sob, “I’m dying!!!! Daddy please pick me up I-” You don’t finish your sentence because enough intense sob comes in the way and you fall back into hysterically crying.

Lando doesn’t even think twice before leaping up from his desk and rushing to grab his car keys. “I’m on my way, my angel, you’re gonna be okay, daddy’s gonna look after you.” He tries to soothe, but the worry in his voice is evident. 

When he arrives you’re still a sobbing mess, but you have to drag your tear stained body out of the cubicle and to the front office in order to be dismissed. When you see Lando you immediately jump into his arms, sobs wracking your body.

“Oh darling…”  He says, brokenly, he hates seeing you like this, “What’s happened, my love?” 

You don’t respond, too distressed, he seems to get the message and manoeuvres you to the car, where he drives home as quick as he can, to get you someplace familiar, hoping that that will soothe you slightly.

It works, partially. By the time that you’re home your sobbing has lessened, but you’re still nowhere near stable, still almost shaking with the fear that you’re feeling. Lando sits you down on the sofa with a glass of water, putting an arm around your shoulders.

“Baby, tell me what’s going on.”

“I-I’m dying!! I’m bleeding and I’m dying!” You sniffle.

Suddenly everything clicks for Lando and then his mind goes completely blank. Shit, shit shit shit shit shit. He was not ready for this day, not ready whatsoever. 

“I-uhm-oh.” He stutters, not knowing what to say. “Y-you’re not dying, sweetheart, okay?”

“Yes I am!!! I’m dying!!!”

He has no idea what to do. He was hoping he had a year or two left before today came, but apparently luck was not on his side. He sits there, staring blankly at you, as you continue to cry. 

“Baby, I promise you you’re not dying, why don’t you go change your clothes and I’ll come up to your room in a sec and we’ll chat, okay?”

You shuffle to your room, still sobbing but if you’re dad seems so confident that you’re okay, then surely that means something…?

Lando paces around in a panic downstairs, waiting for his sister to answer the damn phone. There is no way that he can be doing this with no help.

After a horrible phone call, with a lot of him being laughed at by his sister for having a 12 year old daughter and still knowing fuck all about the menstrual cycle, he feels more prepared to actually talk to you.

You’re sitting in your bed, covered in blankets and watching a movie when he knocks at your door.

“Darling, can I come in?” 

You hum in response, tired from all of the sobbing and therefore not bothered to actually speak. He enters, with a shopping bag in his hand.

“How're you feeling, my angel?”

You shrug, curling up smaller in your blanket ball.

“Oh, baby, you’re okay, I promise, it’s all natural, okay?”

“Doesn’t feel natural…”

“It’s your period, angel. It’s your body getting ready for pregnancy”

You pull a face of absolute horror at that, “I’m pregnant?!??!”

His eyes widen and he backtracks immediately “No, no, no, no, you’re not pregnant, absolutely not.” He shudders at the thought, “It’s just so that maybe, at some point in the future, if you do get pregnant, your body is gonna be prepared…”

“So I’m gonna bleed until I get pregnant?”

“No, no, just for a couple days every month…”

“For how long?”

“Uhm, I’m not sure about that… like until your 40? I don’t know…”

“40?!??!?! I don’t want to bleed every month until I’m 40!!!!”

“I know, baby, but it’s just something that all women have to go through, it’s just a natural part of life, you’ll learn to cope with it…”

You pause, taking in his words, before eventually nodding in understanding, but that doesn’t mean that you’re done talking, much to Lando’s dismay, who’d quite like to get this conversation over and done with.

“So why do I need to bleed to be ready for pregnancy?” You question.

Lando knows this one, he practised it on the phone with his sister, “It’s the wall of your uterus shedding-”

“Ew.”

“Because your body got itself ready to be pregnant, and then obviously the egg was never fertilised.”

“So if I did get pregnant then I wouldn’t get my period?”

“Yes, I think.”

“Hm.”

“It’s all very normal, sweetheart, this just means that you’re healthy, okay?”

“Mhm…”

“Good..” He smiles, “You all good?”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“What am I gonna do now..? With, you know, uhm- I don’t wanna ruin all my underwear…”

“Oh! Yes, that..” He reaches into his bag, “So, uh- these will stick on top of your underwear, and like uh- catch the blood, I guess.. And then you throw them away after wearing them for like 5 hours or so… That sound okay?”

You nod, slightly sceptical, but oh well.

Eventually, Lando leaves to go and do his own thing, and you stew in the knowledge of your new life. After getting yourself showered and cleaned up, as well as trying your new items, you shuffle downstairs, just needing a hug.

“Hey, baby…” Your dad smiles, as he sits on the tv, watching some nonsense reality show.

You don’t reply, just nestling yourself next to him, needing his comforting touch. He smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer.

“My baby… getting so big… daddy loves you, more than anything…”

~~~

a/n: fank you for reading!!11 send in any requests xx

[what-even-is-thiss]

I’m a person who is infinitely curious about other cultures. Always have been. Hopefully always will be. I like making friends from other places, learning about their politics, their history, junk food, traffic safety laws, literally anything. God willing, one day I will have the means to visit many of these places myself.

I won’t claim that this casual studying of other cultures makes me fully understand these other cultures. It’s difficult to fully comprehend the nuances of Sunday dinner from halfway across the world on a computer screen.

However, I think what I’ve observed from all this is that so many things you see as unquestionable truth are social constructs. And so many people see their social constructs as inherently better.

Like what is the way you cool off your coffee or other hot beverage? I learned once that it’s perfectly normal in some places to pour your drink in between two different mugs to cool it off. Which makes total sense. I started doing that occasionally when I learned that.

In a lot of cultures though you just don’t do that. That’s not how you cool off your coffee. You cool off coffee by blowing on it or waiting or putting milk in it or whatever it is and people will be absolutely disgusted and appalled at you for pouring your drink between two mugs.

Which is really silly, right? There’s a lot of potential different ways to cool off a hot drink but so many people from all over the world learn that some people do it a different way than they do and their first reaction is disgust.

That is so fascinating to me. I don’t know if it’s related to humans’ inherent xenophobia or fear of change or the unknown or what but it’s crazy the things that people see as unshakable truth and the hills that they will die on. People from all over the world react like this to such tiny things.

Manners are another thing people get weird about. Manners are generally arbitrary and have no true objective reason a lot of the time but they’re important because they keep us being civil to each other even in our worst days. Manners are also something that isn’t generally universal and people get so offended when other countries’ manners are different from theirs.

Like in much of the US smiling at strangers you make eye contact with is polite because it indicates you don’t have any ill will towards them. Just accidental eye contact bro have a nice day neighbor.

Other countries get so creeped out about this and swear that Americans are so fake. No way they’re that happy all the time. And no, we’re not. It’s just how our manners work.

Conversely, Americans will go to another country like France or whatever and be like oh nobody smiled at me nobody gave me directions nobody wanted to be friends with me and it’s like yeah French people don’t make friends very fast and they have their own standards of greeting and social customs you weren’t following.

Neither the American or the French approach to politeness is objectively better or worse. They just have different arbitrary rules they’re following to keep everyone civil.

It’s just so fascinating to me that people can’t process these ideas. No, they think. The way I do things must be the correct way. It must be. When like, no. There’s literally billions of people out there not doing things the way your culture does them who are doing like. Mostly fine. It’s all made up anyways. The world isn’t going to end because someone smiled at you or ate their peanuts weird.

[michanvalentine]

Another thing I absolutely love about Astarion’s redemption arc is how some narrative threads introduced in Act 1 find their resolution in the good ending.

The first and most obvious one revolves around the beautiful concept of a gift.

When the player offers their blood to Astarion, he receives a gift that goes beyond mere nourishment. In that moment, what Tav/Durge is giving him, beyond blood, is understanding and trust.

And this concept comes full circle after the ritual, where this narrative thread finds its conclusion. That’s when Spawn Astarion thanks the player for the gift they have given him—gently guiding him by the hand toward a new path where he is truly free.

But not just free. As the vampire spawn himself says in that ending, he is honestly free. And for that gift, he is grateful.

I think that’s absolutely beautiful.

But the meaning runs even deeper than that. This ties into the theme of seeing and being seen—not in a superficial sense.

After all, Astarion’s appearance is both a curse and a shield, something he has learned to wield, just like his mannerisms, his charming words, and the sarcasm he uses as a distraction.

It’s an important concept because it means going beyond the surface, seeing him for who he truly is, feeling him, and experiencing him in his entirety.

Astarion deeply struggles with his condition—not just as a slave, but as a vampire. He’s so happy to be able to act human again thanks to the Illithid tadpole, to do simple, mundane things like crossing running water or entering a house without permission. And let’s not even talk about his joy at standing under the sunlight.

When you meet him on the beach for the first time and reveal what will happen if they don’t get rid of the Illithid tadpoles, Astarion’s bitter reaction, complete with laughter, shows just how much it truly weighs on him: "Of course it’s going to turn me into a monster, what else did I expect?!"

In fact, when his vampiric nature is revealed for the first time during the bite scene, he fears rejection and is quick to emphasize that he’s not some kind of monster. The morning after, when Shadowheart tactlessly points out this aspect of him, his expression changes, and we can see how being perceived as a monster wounds him. It keeps him at a distance, sets him apart as something other. Later, he will even say outright that he wants to be treated like a person—not as a slave, not as a vampire. Just a person. Not superior, not inferior. Exactly like everyone else. Because Astarion wants to be part of the world, to reconnect with people.

This is especially clear when he approves of Tav’s perspective—that he could find a place for himself in the world, where he could be accepted, supported, if he is willing to open up and do the same for others. He approves because the idea appeals to him—it makes him feel like he can belong. Not as a monster, but as a person finding his way back into the world he once inhabited.

But I’m digressing.

The mirror scene isn’t just there by chance—it’s narratively strategic. In that moment, Astarion explicitly asks the player what they see, because he wants to know how the world perceives him. He worries about how others see him precisely because he feels separate, othered, like a monster. And it’s not a matter of appearance—Astarion knows he’s gorgeous. He’s heard it thousands of times over the centuries. But he’s insecure about his place within the group, within society, within the world.

That’s why he appreciates it when Tav/Durge reassures him on the two things that trouble him most—his piercing gaze (the red eyes of a vampire) and his dangerous smile (the sharp fangs of a predator). He relaxes because, in that moment, he feels accepted. Because he realizes his defining traits aren’t the insurmountable barriers he thought they were. Because the person in front of him sees him—not through the lens of prejudice, but for who he really is.

This theme returns later, during the confrontation with Aurelia and Leon, when Astarion deflects the idea of being heroic by saying, "I can’t be what you see in me." Again, the motif of seeing, of looking deeper, of recognizing something more, of reading between the lines—both of the narrative and of his character.

And it’s beautiful when, the morning after the ritual, that relaxed, happy Astarion, with that wonderful smile on his lips, says that Tav/Durge saw something in him. Something different from everyone else. Something beyond his monstrous nature, beyond his darkest intentions, beyond his fear.

Tav/Durge saw him. Saw his potential.

And if you’re in a romantic relationship with him, in the graveyard scene, Astarion will bring up this idea once again. With a heroic Tav/Durge, Astarion feels safe. And he feels seen. Seen, for god’s sake. That’s huge.

This is where this narrative arc—about perception, about seeing him throughout the entire journey—finds its resolution. Astarion is truly more than what Cazador made him to be. He breaks free from the pattern of monster/vampire. He chooses to start living again. To rediscover himself. To reclaim his identity in the most human way possible—through the world and the people around him.

Perhaps his body has not regained its human traits, but spawn Astarion is, without a doubt, the Astarion who has reclaimed his humanity the most.

[asterafroditis]

Hi, could I request Silver with a platonic know-it-all reader? Like they're blunt and always getting on everybody's nerves by flexing their knowledge on others and nobody really knows why Silver puts up with them, but he's always like "wow, that was really informative :)" whenever they talk and they genuinely enjoy his company. Sorry if this is an odd request!

𐔌 . ⋮ quiet understanding .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Platonic Silver x yapper gn! reader

𓏵 910 words

ᝰ.ᐟ 3rd Person POV, they/them pronouns used, fluff

teehee, I definitely had fun writing this, hope it caters to your request! feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

If there was one thing people knew about you, it was that you knew things. A lot of things. About history, science, magic theory, ancient spell formations—sometimes even completely random trivia that had no relevance to anyone's life. And you made sure people knew that you knew.

"Actually, that's incorrect," you’d interject, arms crossed as you interrupted yet another conversation in the Diasomnia common room. "The proper incantation for that spell dates back to the late Sorcerer's Era, not the early one. If you used that variation, you'd end up setting your own robes on fire."

Sebek groaned loudly, turning on his heel with a scowl. "No one asked for your input!"

"Yeah, but you'd have burned your eyebrows off. You're welcome."

Lilia only chuckled, amused as always, but the rest of the students? Not so much. You had a habit of inserting your knowledge into every discussion, and it wasn’t exactly winning you many friends. Some people saw you as insufferable, others as a walking encyclopedia that never knew when to shut up.

But if there was one person who never seemed annoyed by you, it was Silver.

"That was really informative," he said as he blinked at you, entirely sincere. "I didn’t know that spell variation had such a history."

You smirked, satisfied. "Of course. Most people just assume the modern version is correct, but they don’t consider how—"

"Are you seriously encouraging them, Silver?!" Sebek cut in, looking completely exasperated. "They never stop talking as it is!"

Silver only tilted his head, clearly not understanding why that was an issue. "I think it's nice. They know a lot of useful things."

"Exactly," you agreed smugly, nudging Silver's arm. "At least someone appreciates my genius."

Sebek let out a long-suffering groan and stomped away while you turned back to Silver, pleased as ever.

And that was how it always went. While most people avoided you when you got too deep into an explanation, Silver never brushed you off. He never mocked you, never got irritated—he just listened, nodding along even when your tangents stretched far longer than necessary. He even asked follow-up questions sometimes, which was practically an invitation for you to keep going.

You liked that about him.

One day, as you sat under a tree with Silver during a break, you glanced at him curiously. "You never get tired of me talking your ear off, do you?"

Silver looked thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head. "No. You always have something interesting to say. And I like learning new things."

You blinked. "...Huh."

That was… unexpected. But nice.

A breeze rustled through the trees, and you hesitated before adding, "Most people think I’m just annoying."

Silver closed his eyes, considering your words. Then, with the same calm sincerity he always carried, he said, "They're missing out, then."

You scoffed lightly, rolling your eyes. "Well, obviously." You leaned back against the tree, folding your arms. "I mean, I know things no one else does. If people don’t want to listen, that's their loss."

Silver hummed in agreement, then after a pause, added, "Still, I think it's nice to have someone who enjoys talking. I spend a lot of time in silence."

You thought about that for a moment. Most people probably assumed he was just a quiet guy, but considering how often he drifted off to sleep, maybe he was just too tired to talk much. If that was the case… maybe he liked having someone around who could carry the conversation.

A moment of silence passed between you before Silver spoke again. "You mentioned something about knight traditions earlier," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Can you tell me more about that?"

Your eyes lit up. "Oh, absolutely! Did you know that in ancient knightly orders, squires would have to recite the entire code of chivalry before they could even touch a sword? It wasn’t just about combat—they had to memorize historical texts, strategy guides, even poetry."

Silver’s lips quirked upward slightly. "I see. I think my father would have liked that tradition."

You paused, momentarily caught off guard. "Huh. Yeah, I guess he would’ve. You probably would’ve excelled at it, too."

Silver blinked at you, mildly surprised. "You think so?"

"Of course," you scoffed. "You're basically already a knight. Just missing the fancy title and dramatic cape."

He chuckled softly. "That’s… nice to hear."

You huffed, nudging his shoulder. "Well, don’t get too cocky about it. I still know more history than you."

Silver smiled faintly. "I don’t mind. That just means I can learn more from you."

For once, you found yourself at a loss for words.

It was easy to brush off other people’s irritation toward you, easy to act like you didn’t care whether they appreciated your knowledge or not. But Silver—he listened. He valued what you had to say. And in a world where people were constantly rolling their eyes or sighing in exasperation at you, that meant more than you wanted to admit.

So, with a quiet hum, you settled in beside him, watching the leaves rustle overhead.

"Alright," you said eventually, voice softer than usual. "I’ll tell you about the old knight tournaments next. You’ll like this one."

Silver nodded, his expression relaxed and content. "I’m listening."

And for once, you felt like someone truly was.

[akawifeyy]

friends with benefits | fic (FC43)

description: it’s six months into your relationship with formula one driver franco colapinto, but you’re still believing the delusional lie that there’s no strings attached.

tropes: no strings attached, he’s obsessed with you, playboy, girlfriend!fem!reader

face claim: none

trigger warnings: suggestive and mature content (!!), minor mentions of violence, swearing

| note: agh i love franco so much, i wish there was more f1 content with him

Franco kissed you, his touch soft as a feather while his fingers splayed across your skin, worshipping your curves. He knew every inch of you, committing it to memory like you’d evaporate in his arms if he didn’t do so. “Mmm, mi alma, I love you,” he murmured in the shell of your ear, his breath warm. “I don’t know how I could ever live without you.”

You froze, going deathly still, at a loss of words. I love you. This was the first time he had ever uttered that phrase, and you were struck dumb, unable to respond.

Noticing your distress, Franco cupped your cheek in reassurance, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he grinned. “You don’t have to say it back. I understand. I want you to mean it when you do tell me it.”

“No, that’s not it,” you whispered, face flushing with embarrassment. You didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to break the spell and ruin the sweet moment. With Franco’s rapidly intensifying schedule, time between you was being whittled down more and more.

Franco’s eyebrows furrowed, concern etching lines in his face. “¿Que te pasa?”

Averting your gaze, you quickly blurted, “I didn’t realize we were so serious. I guess I still thought we were just hooking up, no strings attached. Hearing you say that…It’s just shocking.”

He reared back, dropping his hand from your face like he had been burnt. “Are you trying to tell me that there’s someone else you’d rather have been spending your time with?” His eyes hardened with hurt as he imagined you underneath some faceless man while he made love to you. In Franco’s mind, the two of you had been together since he’d taken you out on that first date in Buenos Aires, exploring his hometown with you by his side. Ever since then, you were inseparable. So why were you pretending otherwise?

You shook your head, suddenly feeling stupid. “No, of course not, I just assumed you’d find someone better and leave me. I thought all Formula One drivers were like that.”

Franco blinked. “There is no girl better than you, Y/N. And I’m not all Formula One drivers, I’m my own person.”

“Well…” You squirmed out of his reach, turning away from him as you fumbled for the right thing to say. “So, we’re… together? You want to be with me? For real?”

He nodded vigorously. “I’ve always wanted to be with you. I thought I made this clear.”

You twisted your lips, guilt gnawing at your insides. “It didn’t click. I’m sorry.”

“I’ve been calling you mi novia to my parents ever since day one,” Franco said, expelling a breath. “Telling them that I’ve found my wife, I’ve found the woman I will marry and spend the rest of my days with. And the whole time you’ve been believing that we were nothing? Just fuck buddies?”

Heat permeated your skin, and you thought you might die from the humiliation. “I’m sorry, Franco.”

“You’re not just a good fuck for me, Y/N,” Franco hissed, stepping close to you and jerking your head up so you would be forced to look at him. Arousal pooled in your lower gut as you watched frustration grow in his piercing stare. “You’re my everything. Why else would I buy you everything you want? Why would I make you wear my jersey, hold your hand in public, warn other men off and threaten to chop their dicks off? Just to have some fun?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as his words sunk in. “I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that, but you don’t understand how upset I am with you,” Franco retorted. He tugged you roughly, crashing his lips against your forehead. “Mierda. Six months, and you really thought you were just another warm body for me?”

You covered your mouth with your hands, all semblances of speech eradicated.

“You’re not. Get that idea out of your head.” Franco’s eyes narrowed to slits. “We’re not fuck buddies, or some other crazy shit. We do have strings attached, because I’m in love with you. And I’m never giving you up for another woman. Not in a thousand years.”

You inclined your head. “OK, if you say so.”

“Good.” Franco touched your chin again with one finger. “Now let’s get back to what we were doing, hm?”

A moan broke free as he lowered your shirt, revealing the bare skin of your shoulder and collarbones. A flurry of kisses were embedded as his own shirt was removed and you were placed carefully on the bed. He positioned himself on top, his strong arms barricading you and muscles flexing as he began working his way down to your pussy. When your skirt was tossed on the floor along with your panties, he began his conquest, two fingers sliding in you without much difficulty.

“It’s like you’re built for me,” Franco growled. “So fucking ready.”

You swallowed back another moan as he extricated his fingers, instead replacing it with his cock.

“¿Todo bien?” he asked a few minutes later, languidly thrusting as sweat beaded on his forehead and upper lip. “Do I need to stop?”

You shook your head feebly. “No, please, Franco,” you mewled.

“I hope you know that I adore you, hermosa. I don’t care if this is too much, too soon, because my emotions are going to swallow me whole if I don’t tell you.” Franco groaned as he dug deeper, his entire body pulsing with unspent energy as his release neared. “You live in my every heartbeat, you linger in my thoughts. When I am away from you, I feel like I will die.”

“I...” Your breath was shaky as you continued, “I love you, Franco.”

“If my legacy is to be your lover, then so be it,” he added. “Haría cualquier cosa por ti.”

And together, the pleasure that had been steadily mounting reached its breaking point, and you unraveled together.

Two souls, in sync. The way you wanted it to be forever.

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[transmutationisms]

Hey. So that claim that stimulants do completely different things for people who “have ADHD” and “don’t have ADHD” is obviously bullshit but I was wondering if you happen to have read anything I could refer to about that

Okay I want to try using this to break down how I would actually approach this type of question, inspired by some posts I've seen recently about how to read and analyse things that are wrong / bad / liberal.

I don't have, off the top of my head, a published & refereed source that discusses this particular claim. I'm pretty certain there is at least one such thing out there. But I'm also pretty confident it won't be very good. The claim it's responding to is relatively historically recent, & is cloaked in still-fashionable neurobiological terms. Also, the literature on ADHD is bad in general, and so is the general quality of the kinds of imaging studies that are cited to support such claims about 'brain differences.'

If I were writing a literature review or a historiography, here is the part where I would need to go find these things anyway. Then I would have to explain how they make their arguments and what's missing, and depending on the scope of the piece I might have to explain my own philosophical / political position, and advance my methodological critique of the literature I just spent several days finding & reading.

Fortunately I'm writing a tumblr post & my sense is your actual question is "how can I better argue against this obviously bullshit claim," so I don't have to do any of that. There's not really much point sinking that kind of time and effort into finding a source I already think is unlikely to adequately make the argument I'm looking for anyway.

Instead, I would now look at the claim itself. What must be true in order for it to hold?

ADHD brains differ from non-ADHD brains

This difference is relevant to the action/metabolism of stimulant drugs

Okay, claim two on that list requires dealing with psychopharmacology & very exact physiological mechanisms, which means a shitload more reading and most of it punishingly dry and technical. Sad & bad.

Fortunately, though, I already know -- from every reading ever, as well as my experience existing on earth -- that ADHD is not diagnosed by any sort of brain scan, anatomical observation, blood test, etc, but by subjective (yes, even if they made you do it on a computer) clinical observation. Hmm, that's super weird for something that is a 'brain difference.'

I also know that psychiatric categories are difficult to correlate with biological observations even where those observations do exist, because an imaging study on ADHD is necessarily only pulling the 'ADHD sample' from people already diagnosed with ADHD. It's circular. Philosophically this is the same problem I laid out in section one of 'What is an alien?' (which you can read & understand even if the main topic of the essay doesn't interest you).

And I also know that brain imaging studies generally are riddled with serious methodological flaws (post discusses the dead salmon study among others) and don't actually produce meaningful, replicable biological distinctions in any kind of correlation with psychiatric categories (also, variation within categories is also very high).

Oh, wait. Now the claim above looks like patent nonsense with zero philosophical foundations. The burden of proof is on whoever's making that claim, & the basic underlying principles are wrong. Yayyyy.

This exercise means 1) I've sat down and reasoned through my own opinion, giving me clarity on why I think what I do and what evidence would change my mind and 2) from now on, when I see someone else make the claim I'm responding to here, I'll know off the bat that they haven't done the same & are starting from a very credulous attitude toward very low-quality research. And I didn't do this by trawling the literature until I found the exact thing I was looking for, but by thinking through the arguments and evaluating a body of literature that is generally explicitly hostile to the kinds of critiques I make & respect.

[muletia]

God I need to get Optimus pregnant and it's not even in a necessarly horny sense anymore.

It's the way Optimus referred to "family" as a strictly human concept to Ultra Magnus. Over his time on earth he's grown utterly enchanted by the idea of having one, especially once you're in the picture, but knows it cannot be. No matter how badly either of you want it.

I need him to one day, when everything settles down and you start living out in your little cottage, start noticing a bunch of strange symptoms: He's oddly fatigued, as if his frame is suddenly dumping power somewhere new. He's simultaneously overcome with an unexplainable hunger and nausea, as if his tanks are clamoring for fuel other than energon and reformatting to process it.

I need him to nearly break out in joyful sobbing when Rachet disbelievingly explains his scan's findings to you. Doesn't even have it in him to scold you both for being this irresponsible, not when his old friend looks so... fulfilled. Sincerely thanking him before turning and all but collapsing into you. It's probably best Rachet gives you both a moment of privacy with the news...

(Pregnancy glow hits Opti hard btw)

oh my god, OH MY GOD this is so peak

Me thinks Optimus, at first, would be completely unaware of the meaning behind all these symptoms. Sparked up bots on Cybertron were extremely rare, not to mention that after the war began, there was neither the time nor the opportunity for the creation of new sparklings. Optimus never really had much — if any — exposure to carrier bots. His knowledge of reproduction is limited to the basic understanding that his species is capable of it (something must have ignited that first spark of drive toward reproduction, after all) and that he very, VERY much wants to have one with you. All of the symptoms associated with being sparked up are completely foreign to him.

That’s why, at first, he isn’t concerned. He rationalizes the oddities as simply his body adjusting to a new, slower, more peaceful life. The shift from Autobot leader to house husband, whose most stressful responsibility is remembering to refill the hummingbird feeder, is drastic. No wonder his frame is responding to it. And the fact that these symptoms have persisted for weeks, months, even? Well. Maybe he just needs a lot of time to fully adjust.

Until you begin to notice that something strange is going on with Optimus.

The energon supply is disappearing at an alarming rate. More than once, you’ve woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of him rummaging through cupboards and the storage shed, searching for more. He snacks constantly, even though he’s just refueled. And lately, he’s been so clingy. Always wants to be close to you, touching you in some way, whether it’s cuddling or simply maintaining some form of contact. He’s stopped going on his usual walks to watch birds just so he can spend more time with you.

And most concerningly, he’s started whimpering when you are ready to leave for work, begging you to stay home. With him.

The realization strikes you like a bolt of lightning the moment you finally notice the slight swell of his abdomen (since we’re already fully committing to human pregnancy symptoms, why not give him a little baby bump?)

"Opti… are you… pregnant?"

And suddenly, everything clicks into place for him, too.

Ratchet is contacted immediately. Then comes disbelief. Shock. And joy. So much joy. The old medic has never seen his friend so genuinely happy, so full of life. Optimus' usual reluctance toward PDA is completely overridden by his sheer need to share his happiness with you. He covers your face in kisses, confessing that his greatest dream has just come true.

And while, at first, it’s incredibly difficult for you to process the idea that a robot can even get pregnant, let alone with an entirely different species, his joy is so raw and so pure that you can’t help but be swept up in it, too. For now, you don’t want to think about how or why. You just want to stay in this beautiful moment with him.

But, of course, there’s no avoiding a very long lecture from Ratchet about responsibility and how in Primus’ name is this even possible?!—it’s an unskippable cutscene. But the sting of his scolding is completely overshadowed by the sweetness of this joyous revelation.

and you are so real for the pregnancy glow. that Opti face card is gonna be LETHAL

[coquitokisses]

Oh, baby! | Dean Winchester

Pairings: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Summary: reader had a one night stand with Dean and they find out she’s pregnant

Word count: 1.4k

A/n: I gotta be honest, this is from a fanfic lmao, which is supposed to be a crossover of Teen Wolf and Supernatural, but I haven’t published it yet and I’ve been wanting to write something about Dean for a whileee so I decided to just edit this lil thing I had and post it here cuz why not?

“Hey, Cas, you’re back.” You smile sweetly at him once you saw him as you made your way to the library to help Sam with research

“Hi, y/n.” He replied with a small smile that soon turned into a confused frown

You noticed. “Everything okay?”

“How do you feel?” He asks

“I’m fine.” You replied, not understanding his sudden worry

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Cas, why? What’s wrong?” You questioned feeling a little alarmed by the way he was asking

“It’s just that I feel another presence.” He said

“Another presence?” Sam took his eyes off the laptop to look at Castiel

“What do you mean another presence?” Dean’s voice was soon heard throughout the library

“Is it bad?” You ask

“No,” Castiel shook his head. “It’s inside you.”

“Inside me?!” You were so confused right now “But what is it? Is it bad?”

“Is she okay?” Sam asked somewhat worried after hearing Castiel’s words

“She’s fine,” he replied and then looked at you “Can I?” he raised his hand

You nodded giving him permission to do whatever he had to do. Castiel put a hand on your forehead and then began to lower it down your body, but without actually touching it, until it reached your belly.

“Can I?” he looked at you, you just nodded

He placed his hand on your belly and that’s when he realized what was the presence he was feeling.

“It’s a baby,” he said, removing his hand

You almost choked. “I’m sorry, WHAT?!”

“A.. baby?” Sam was dumbfounded

“Wait, wait, are you sure?” Dean looked at Castiel

“Very sure,” the angel nodded

“It can’t be...” you put one of you hands on you chest. “Oh my God..”

“Are you really sure?” Dean asked again

“Yes, Dean, I am one hundred percent sure that I feel a baby’s presence.” Castiel snapped back

“This isn’t happening.” Dean ran his hands over his face “This is.. this is simply not happening.”

“Please don’t tell me you guys…” Sam looked at you both

“Sam, just shut up for a minute, okay?” Dean replied

“I- I need to get some air.” You muttered as you walked backwards like three steps and then turned around heading to the stairs

“Y/n wait!” Sam called out but you ignored him

You got out of the bunker and you took a deep breath trying to calm yourself down and not have a panic attack.

“This can’t be real..” you murmured to yourself

You raised your hands to your belly and you’re just standing there in shock.

Of course you wanted a family, but you knew that it was probably not going to happen due to the fact that you’re a hunter and you’ve been hunting basically your whole life. You knew how your life was gonna end. And you made your peace with that. Kinda.

Worst thing about all of this is the fact that Dean is the one who got you pregnant. You two used to hate each other, but throughout the years, you’ve learned to tolerate each other and well, you’ve basically been working with them since they had to deal with the angels pretty much.

He’s always had a crush on you and you knew it, but it wasn’t really that serious. He usually just flirted with you and most of the time you just ignored him.

Until a few weeks ago, while you guys were finishing up a case that Sam decided to let you two handle so you could work on your communication and your anger issues, because the week before that, you have to admit that you were both butting heads every five minutes, and it was driving Sam insane. So he sent you both to deal with a shapeshifter case in Wyoming and with a little assignment to work on your issues and stop behaving like kids. His words.

And you did worked your issues out. You just didn’t think it was gonna be by having sex, but hey, you weren’t complaining at all. He was perfect. And it was the best night you’ve ever had in a while.

And here are the results of that hook up.

It’s clear to say that neither of you are prepared, mentally nor physically prepared to have a kid.

And besides, how were you gonna raise a kid together if you can’t even get along for more than two days?

You got on your car and decided to go for a ride, just to clear your head. And while you were at it, you bought like two boxes of pregnancy tests just to be one thousand percent sure and because you would believe it more once you see it yourself.

You got something to eat after that and decided to use the bathroom at a gas station so you could take the pregnancy tests.

While you waited on the results, you were walking around in the small bathroom, thinking what the hell you were gonna do.

After a few minutes of talking to yourself internally, you decided to take a look at the four pregnancy tests.

“Oh god..” you muttered under your breath seeing the plus sign on the tests

(…)

After a while of just driving around, you finally decided to get back to the bunker. Once you open the door, Dean’s head turned to look at you immediately.

“Where were you?” He asked, leaving the book he was reading on the table

“I was getting rid of the little creature,” you replied

“Y/n.” Dean gave your a stern look

“I’m kidding.” You rolled your eyes. “I went for a ride and to get something to eat, anything else you want to know?”

You walked to where he was and put your hand inside the pocket of your jacket.

“In case you thought Castiel was lying...” you took the pregnancy tests out of your jacket pocket and placed them on the table. “It’s quite real.”

Dean looked at the tests in front of him realizing that this was really happening. He did believe Cas, but seeing the positive pregnancy tests, definitely made his mind finally fall into the acceptance that this was real. Very real.

Dean sighed. “Look, I know you’re not completely happy with this situation, believe me, I’m not either, but..-

“But we already did it and now we have to take responsibility, I know,” you said taking off your jacket “What I’m still trying to figure out is how you and I are going to raise a baby”

“I don’t know either.” He sighed

“This wasn’t supposed to happen” you pulled out a chair so you could sit and then you brought your hands to you face

“I know...” Dean said in a soft voice and leaned a little so he could look at you. “Hey,” he gently took you by the wrists, removing your hands from your face. “You’re not going to be alone, I’m not going for a pack of cigarettes and never come back.”

That made you laugh a little. “I know you won’t.”

“I’m just.. scared.” He admitted “Scared to raise a kid, scared that I might turn out like my dad and I don’t want that..”

“You’re not going to be like your father, Dean.” You said softly “And I’m scared too, like, I’m gonna be carrying a baby inside of me for the next nine months, I’m terrified that I won’t be a good mom.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re going to be an amazing mom.”

You smiled a little. “That’s kinda comforting.”

“I think we can make it work if we make the effort.”

“We hate each other.” You roll your eyes

He scoffs. “Speak for yourself, I don’t hate you, sweetheart, like, at all.”

You chuckle. “Don’t lie to yourself, you only wanted to get in my pants.” You joked

“Well yeah, but I don’t hate you.” He shrugged

“I don’t hate you either, you’re just.. very annoying.” You said

“You are too.”

You roll your eyes. “Right.”

“In all seriousness,” he started saying “I think we should give it a try.” He looked into your eyes “And you know, we would also be getting out of this life and finally getting a normal one.”

“That does sound nice.” You nodded

“It’s up to you, babe.” He said

You could see in his eyes that he was dead serious about this. He wanted this. He wanted to give it a try with you.

And after a few seconds of thinking, you finally responded.

“Let’s do it then.” You said and he smiled “But we’re not getting married.”

“I’m fine with that.” He said with a shrug which made you smile

main masterlist

A/n: I think I can make this into a small series, should I? 👀

Likes, comments and reblogs will be appreciated! <3

divider creds @hyuneskkami

[justmeinadaze]

Curiosity: Part 2 (Eddie X Plus Size Y/N)

Warnings: Younger (Early 20s) Daddy (kinda camboy) Eddie & Older (early 30s) Plus Size Sub Fem Y/N, SMUT, SO MUCH dirty talk <3, daddy kink (cause I'm me), praise, SPANKING <3, light slapping, male masturbation, of course aftercare

FLUFF, Eddie always talking about how beautiful she is <3

ANGST, Eddie still doesn't know Y/N is the girl he's talking to online, mentions of a bad past relationship (she talks about how an ex made her feel like there was something wrong with her size; brief, "sweetie you're too big..."), Y/N gets a bit sassy and Eddie doesn't know how to handle it cause they haven't had the talk about their relationship (yells at her). I think that's it. I know those are the biggies.

More than anything this is him showing her more about the Daddy life and helping her realize she's beautiful inside and out.

Word Count: 7007

Chapter 1/ Donate to Me <3

“Hey, Y/N. I need my laptop back to finish this—Oh shit! I’m so sorry.”, your roommate shouted as she immediately backed out of your bedroom and shut the door. “In my defense, it’s not normal for you to have a boy over!”

“Well, that’s good to know.”, Eddie murmurs making you laugh as cover your face in embarrassment. 

“Give me a minute, Kelsey!”, you shout as you start to get out of bed. “I’ll be right back. Um, feel free to use my bathroom if you need to.”

“Is it ok if I smoke?”, he asks as he gestures towards the double doors in your bedroom that lead to the balcony. 

“Oh, absolutely. Just, um, make yourself at home.”

Raising his eyebrows in amusement, he grabs your wrist and playfully tugs you down so his lips can kiss yours. 

“You’re really adorable.”

Smirking, you caress his cheek as he bites his bottom lip and pokes your nose.

As soon as you exit your room and hand her her laptop, your roommate begins her interrogation. 

“Who the fuck is that? He’s so cute! Tell me everything!”

“Can we do this later? I’m so exhausted.”

“I’ll bet you are.”, Kelsey laughs as you narrow your eyes towards her playfully. “Ok, fine, but YOU are washing those sheets, ma’am.”

“Noted.”

After pouring a cup of coffee for each of you, you reenter your bedroom to find Eddie still outside almost finished with his cigarette. 

“Hey, I brought you some caffeine if you want some.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. Did you get the third degree?”

“Kind of but I was able to get a reprieve if I promised to tell her more later.”

The metalhead smirks as he nods, tossing his smoke over the banister before following you back inside and wrapping his arms around you from behind. 

“I had a good time with you last night.”, he murmurs as you lean back into his chest and crane your neck to kiss his lips. “Um, before we continue…this…there’s something I have to tell you.”

Eddie places you on the edge of the bed and grabs one of your chairs in your room to place it in front of you. 

“Ok, so, uh, remember when I told you I had a second job?” He waits for you to nod before continuing. “It’s not actually a job-job but more a website…I, um, I have an OnlyFans…where I take off my clothes and…jerk off…for money. Sometimes, very rarely, I’m intimate with one of my friends who’s been doing this kind of thing for years but…”

His expressive, chocolate eyes search your face, trying to get a read on any emotion you might be feeling to his news. 

“Alright, not going to lie, I half expected you to call me a whore and be disgusted so the fact that you’re incredibly quiet makes me nervous.”, he shakily laughs as he waits for you to speak. 

“Do you like it?”

Eddie blinks in surprise as he leans back in his seat. 

“Um, I mean, I don’t hate it but I can understand why you might.”

“Me personally or other women?” The metalhead breathily exhales as he shakes his head in disbelief. “I don’t think you’re a whore and it…doesn’t bother me. I…Eddie, I have to tell you—”

His lips cut you off as he tenderly kisses them, pushing your body back against the bed and placing himself on top of you. 

“You’re so cool.”, he murmurs making you giggle as his smile grows. “Did, uh, did you have any questions or…?”

“Can I see it? Your set up?”

***

“Normally, a lot of people just like use their phones or something but I guess my gamer roots needed a bit more.”, Eddie jokes as you watch him log into his computer from the chair he placed beside him. 

“I didn’t know you game.”

“Oh, um, I’m not very good at it but my friends play so we’ll have like guy nights and just run around shooting each other in the virtual world.”

While he continued to talk your eyes couldn’t help but wonder down his very kissable throat to his broad shoulders and along his forearm to his hand that quickly clicked the mouse it was holding. 

“Alright, so this is my camera obviously. On this screen here I put my equipment controls including the reflection of me on the camera so I can make sure I’m in frame. On the other, I have the site up where I can see their messages to me.”

“Their?”

“My…fans…”

“Are they rude to you or anything?”

“Not all of them.”, he smirks as he glances your way. “I actually made a friend the other day but I don’t know her name. We’re just friends though I swear.”, Eddie quickly confirms. 

“What do you say to people when they watch you?”

“I have an initial stream where I just let people get to know me but after an hour I go into a private stream they paid for. I…fuck this is so weird explaining.”, he laughs nervously. “I say stuff like about my cock while I touch myself. Sometimes they ask about my friend I told you about…the one I film with.”

“What’s her name?”

“Steve.”

As he says his friend’s name, his worried eyes lock with your own thinking that this may finally be the one step that’s a step too far. 

“Can you give me a demonstration?”

“How so?”

“Like…if you were on camera and I had paid to see you…what would you do?”

An anxious laugh leaves his lips as he turns his chair to face you. 

“I’m not exactly prepared.”, he teases as he gestures towards his crotch area. 

“So, you’re telling me you’re always hard when you start to stream?”, you sass making him smile as he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. 

“No, I guess not.” 

His eyes remain on you as he stands up and shuffles out of his jeans, tossing them haphazardly to the floor before reaching into his boxers to pull his dick out. 

“Do you do the Daddy thing with them?” Languidly, he strokes himself as he leans back and answers you with a soft but firm mhmm. “When did you realize that’s something you enjoyed?”

“I always knew. What about you?”

“Oh, um, I’ve never done that…this…before.”, you shyly respond, smiling a bit when you notice his wrist flick and his cock twitch slightly at your confession. 

“I never would have guessed that with h-how easily you call me that.”

“Things seem to be easy with you.”

At your words, you nervously giggle as you hide behind your hands.

His chair creaks slightly as he leans over and a long line of spit leaves his mouth to land on the mushroom head of his length before he strokes it along his shaft a bit faster than he had been.

“Fuck, Y/N, you have no idea how much shit like that turns me on. The shy little laugh with the innocent eyes. I like kn-knowing I’m the first man to make you feel that way. I wish I was your first everything but…”, Eddie chuckles. 

“It felt like it with that monster between your legs.”, you laugh, interrupted when his free hand grabs the arm of your chair and yanks you closer to him. 

“Did you like the way it felt…Daddy’s cock stretching you open?”

Eddie whispering dirty words was one thing but having them strain from his beautiful lips as he stared into your irises was another. Biting your lip, you tried to duck away again but his palm hastily cupped your cheek forcing you to remain still. 

“Answer me, pretty girl.”

“Yes, I liked it.”

“Liked what…say it.”

The metalhead smirked as you tried to duck away nervously again but his hand kept you in place. 

“I l-like the way your cock felt stretching m-me open…”

“Good girl, always such a good girl for Daddy. Can you pull down those sweats and open your legs for me so I can have another look at those cute panties you put on?”

You do as he asks and the man heavily sighs as his eyes trace along your legs to the cotton blocking your core. 

“They’re a little wet. Do you like watching Daddy touch himself?”

“Y-Yes, I like watching you… I think you’re incredibly handsome…especially like this…”

“You keep calling me handsome, babe, and I might grow an ego.”, Eddie chuckles feeling your energy lighten. “I think you’re incredibly beautiful. I l-like looking at your legs especially your thighs.”

“My fat thighs.”, you tease but your eyes momentarily shift to the void before finding his once more to notice they’ve darkened slightly. 

“Did you mean that negatively…like your ‘fat’ thighs are a problem?”

“I-I-I mean…”

When you absently shrug as if it’s common knowledge, the boy growls under his breath as you watch his jaw tighten and his nose scrunch in what seems like anger.

“What?”, you murmur, repeating yourself when his only response is to pump his fist a bit faster and harder. 

“Your weight doesn’t affect how fucking gorgeous you are.”

“I’m sorry.”, you whine. “I d-didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Mmph—you didn’t upset me, Y/N. The idea of you or anyone else thinking about you that way…upsets me.”

Surging forward, you kiss his lips, reveling in the taste of nicotine that lingers, thankful that he allows it even though you feel him not fully reciprocating. 

“Jesus Christ.”, Eddie grumbles and you open your eyes just in time to see his spend hit thigh.

Silently, he reaches for his tissues to clean himself while his face remains furrowed.

“I’ve never liked the way you talk about yourself.”, he mumbles, taking the Kleenex and throwing them away. 

“I’m just…I was just joking…”

“At your own expense?”

“Is this really what you want to talk about after what we just did?”

Eddie huffs as he grabs his pack of cigarettes and puts one between his teeth before lighting the end. 

“YOU’RE the one who brought it up in the middle of what we just did. I’m just tired of it. If it’s not your weight, it’s your age and you make it sound like you’re undesirable or something. Did someone make you feel that way?”

Your head swiftly turns to glare into the void. Eddie’s seen that look before on many people he’s annoyed with his loudmouth in the past. 

He hit a nerve. 

“Look, I’ve been single for a while so I’ve mastered the art of self-deprecating jokes. I’m sorry I fucking hurt your feelings or whatever with a comment about ME.”

Angerly, you get to your feet and reach for your pants but he beats you to it, effortlessly tugging them from your grasp. 

“I think it’s time we talk about some things.”

“I don’t want to. Now give me my pants, little boy, and take me home!”

At your words a fire let within him that reflected through his eyes startling you slightly even though you kept your glare firm. 

“Little boy, huh?”, he growls roughly before taking an inhale of his cigarette and blowing smoke to the side. You stumbled backwards slightly as he released his hold on your sweats and sat back down. “You can wait outside and I’ll pay for the fucking uber. Get out of my house.”

“Eddie, I—”

“No. Get your shit and fucking leave. I don’t think you’re ready to see how I handle bratty behavior.”

“Y-You won’t even take me home?”

“I can make sure you get there from the app. Now, this is the last time I’m going to say it…Get…out.” You heard it in his tone; the anger mixed with the pain. You calling him that also struck a nerve but your wall went up and you couldn’t help yourself. You hated seeing him this way wishing you could take back your words. 

“Eddie, I’m…I’m really sorry—”

“NOW!”

You jumped as his deep shout rung in your ears before quickly scurrying out the door. 

##################

Eddie called in the next day and every time you tried to text or call his phone, he didn’t answer. 

You were worried. 

At least that’s what you told yourself to justify taking your roommates laptop and signing in to the OnlyFans account to schedule a session with him that evening.

When his face illuminated the screen, he seemed to be hidden under a haze of smoke. 

“Millennial, babe, you don’t have to keep paying for sessions. I can give you my phone number so we can talk.”, he chuckles as you watch him bring a bong to his lips and inhale. “I hope it’s alright I’m a little buzzed.”

“Are you ok? You seem sad.”

When his glassy eyes and slurred smile find the camera, you would give anything to hug him and hold him in your arms. 

“I am a little. That girl I told you about came over yesterday after a fucking perfect night together…and I showed her my set up…She was surprising cool with it, by the way.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah…we, um, she called me handsome and I told her she was beautiful; told her how much I love her gorgeous legs and thighs. I swear, Mill, I could fucking live between those thighs… I’ve been watching them move when she walks since we started working together and…fuck me… Now that I’ve experienced them wrapped around me…I’m obsessed.”

“But…”

Eddie’s chocolate irises shifted to the floor as his smirk faltered for a few seconds. 

“She always makes little jabs at her weight or her age and it fucking kills me. Like how can she not see how goddamn beautiful she is and those things aren’t mutually exclusive. Her having some extra meat on her bones or being older has nothing to do with her physical traits. And that’s not even what matters to me…it’s just an added bonus that she’s hot.”

“Did you tell her all this?”

Eddie shakes his head as he reclines in his seat. 

“Daddy got in the way.”

“Ok, you’re going to need to explain that. Lol.”

 “Look, I assumed by the way she called me Daddy she had been in a dynamic like that before but she told me last night it was new for her.”

“Ok, I’m lost.”

The metalhead rolls his eyes playfully as he sticks his tongue out at you making you smile. 

“She got sassy and called me ‘little boy’. As soon as I heard it, I wanted to punish her right then and there.”

“Punish?”

“Yeah, I have my own methods that usually has my partner turning into liquid goo but…”, he laughs. “We haven’t had that talk yet. We haven’t had any conversation about our relationship. I don’t know what’s too far or no goes. I apparently said SOMETHING to upset her but I don’t know what because her wall went up. The whole thing just ignited that side of me and since I don’t know how comfortable she is with all that…I had to ask her to leave. I knew…if she kept pushing… I might not be able to stop myself from throwing her over my knee and spanking that perfect ass.”

“Eddie lol”

“I’m serious, honey. Fuck, just the thought is making me hard.”

“Why don’t you show her?”

“My hard dick? I think that ship has sailed.”

“No! Lol. Show her what a punishment would look like. Give her a demonstration. If she’s open to calling you Daddy and trying all this, then show her everything THIS is.”

“Be Daddy and guide her.”

He reads your words over and over, his eyes flicking towards the camera as his eyebrows dip in what looks like confusion. 

“Give her a demonstration, huh?”

“Shit.”

You forgot that was the wording you used with him when he told you about his OnlyFans. 

“You know, Millennial. You’re so smart. See…this is why we’re friends.”, he laughs, seeming not to notice the identical wording. “Give me your number! I feel bad that you pay just to talk when we can do that for free.”

“I don’t mind, sweetheart. You deserve all the good things.”

***

“No, sir, I’m not…I’m just trying to explain our policy. If I could change it…Please, sir, please…please don’t scream at me.”, you sigh as you listen to the customer on the other end of the call. “Sir, I understand your frustration but…”

While you sat there strongly considering ‘accidently’ hanging up on this man yelling at you, your headset was abruptly lifted from your head and you swiveled your chair to see Eddie throw himself down in his, scooting closer to your side. 

“Hello, sir, this is Edward, the manager at this facility. How can I help you out today?”, he lied.

Your slightly surprised expression watched him earnestly as he listened to the man speak. 

“I see…Well as the representative explained, that’s not something we can compensate for…because of our policy…Sir, listen to me carefully…I said listen…You were already disrespectful to the kind person who tried to help you so you’re already on thin ice with me. If you raise your voice to me one more time, I’m going to disconnect the call.”

The echo in the speakers reverberated loudly as the customer started to scream again and the boy didn’t even hesitate as he leaned over your body to disconnect. 

“You could get in trouble for that.”

“Hm, I could but knowing this shit company I probably won’t.”, he grins as he slides back to his side of the cubicle. “Plus, no one talks like that to my work wife.”

“Eddie? I’m sorry.”

The metalhead leans back in his seat as he his soft eyes scan you over. 

“After work tonight, I’m making you dinner. Meet me at my place around 8.”

 It wasn’t a request and you had absolutely no qualms with that. When you got off, you hastily went home to change, deciding on a black dress that knotted around your waist at the side of your hips accentuating your curves a bit more and cutting off mid-thigh showing off a feature of yourself you now knew he enjoyed. 

Your black heels clacked against the path up to his front door and when Eddie opened it, you couldn’t help but feel overdressed. He was still wearing his black jeans and boots he wore to work that day but had changed into a black button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

“Wow…you look—”

“Wait, let me guess. Handsome?”, he teases as he invites you in and shuts the door behind you. “Thank you, sweetheart. You look absolutely breath taking. Please…have a seat.” After gesturing towards his table, he pulls out your chair and you grin politely as you sit down.

Your eyes continued to watch him as the metalhead pulled up his hair and moved about the kitchen, serving finished food on a plate and placing it in front of you before filling up a glass with wine to set beside it. 

You waited patiently until he completed his tasks and sat down across from you to share the meal he made. 

“Oh my god, Eddie…This is amazing!”

“Thank you. My mom showed me how to make it when I was kid.”

The two of you casually talked but you could feel the tension in the atmosphere. You weren’t sure what it was about this man but you desperately wanted to fall to your knees in front of him and beg for forgiveness for hurting him. You wanted to curl up in his lap and kiss his face till that gorgeous smile and dorky sense of humor returned. 

You just wanted Eddie. 

“What’s going on over there?”, he asked as his studious eyes watched you slightly fold into yourself. 

“I’m just thinking.”

“About?”

“No one’s ever made me dinner before.”, you answer, your voice slightly cracking as you lightly giggled. 

Rising to his feet, Eddie came to your side of the table and turned your body to face his as he kneeled in front of you, taking your palms in his rather large hand. 

“I’m so sorry, Eddie. I didn’t mean to hurt you or insult you. I just…you were right. I’ve had people…relationships in my past talk about me negatively and I just—” His thumb gliding along your lips silenced you as your cheek turned into the palm he had rested against your face. “I’ve been single for a long time by choice. I’ve been so scared of getting hurt again… This whole thing with you is COMPLETELY new for me. I like you so much but there’s so many factors…my age, my weight, our work relationship… I’m scared.”

Slowly, the man pushes up to softly kiss your forehead, lingering there for a few moments and you take the opportunity to inhale his cologne while feeling the warmth that radiated from his chest.

“Come on, pretty girl.”, he whispers as he stands to his full height and takes your hand, leading down the hallway to his bedroom where he places you on the edge of his bed. 

Grabbing his desk chair, Eddie sets it directly across from you and moves till his knees lightly graze yours. 

“From this point forward tonight, you will refer to me as Daddy and you will only speak when you are spoken to. Do you understand me?”

His voice was still low but filled with a sexy husk that had your thighs rubbing together. 

“Yes, Daddy.”, you reply breathily. 

“Yes Daddy what?”

“Yes, Daddy, I understand.”

“Good.”, he nods, flashing you a gentle smile as he tilts towards you to lean on his elbows. “Now, occasionally throughout our time, I may ask you what color you are feeling. Green means good, yellow means slow down, and Red is stop.”

“Like a stop light.”

Eddie smirks as he nods. 

“Yes, honey, just like a stop light. Now…did I ask you something for you to respond?” 

Blinking, your head promptly hangs as you fiddle with your fingers. 

“No, Daddy.”

“Alright, thank you for being honest and not giving me an excuse. I’ll let that slide for right now. It won’t happen again.” Craning his neck, his lips find yours and when he pulls away you bite your bottom lip to contain your giddy smile. “Red is our safe word. If at any point, you or even Daddy says that word that means we immediately stop playing right there. If I do something that makes you uncomfortable or I’m hurting you, just say that word and we stop. No questions asked. Well…besides me making sure you’re alright and taking care of you.

What do you say if Daddy is making you uncomfortable?”

“Red.”

“Atta girl.”, he praises. “When it comes to me, there isn’t much that makes me uncomfortable but since this is all new for you, sweetheart, what are some hard no goes for you?”

“I…I’m not sure. There are things I haven’t tried in a while because of the men in my past…Daddy.” You hurry your last word when you realize you almost forgot it and thankfully he seemed to let it go. 

You were trying. 

“Can you elaborate on that for me a bit, baby?”

Your eyes squeezed shut as your ex’s voice echoed through your mind.

“God, Y/N, what are you doing?! You can’t be on top. Jesus, what were you thinking?”

“Um, no, sweetie, trust me. You can barely sit on my lap without crushing me. You think I can handle you on my face?”

“Pfft, toys and handcuffs? Baby…come on now. Bracelets I buy rarely fit around your wrists.”

A palm lightly tapping your cheek brought you back to reality as your eyes snapped open to meet Eddie’s.

“What color, Y/N?”

“Green.”, you whisper. “Green, Daddy.”

“I’m going to ask you something a bit personal and I’ll allow for this to go unanswered. Y/N, did your ex make you feel insecure about your body?”

It takes you a couple of minutes before you finally nod. 

“Yes, Daddy, and some friends I used to have.”

“Are they here in Hawkins?” You shake your head. “Good because I would fucking tear them apart.”, he growled until his eyes met yours again and softened. “How about when we play we take it one thing at a time, ok?”

“O-Ok, Daddy.”

“Good, good girl. Now, I’m into things like spanking, slapping, stuff like that. How does that make you feel?”

“I’m willing to try, Daddy. I, um, I feel like I wouldn’t like…like being hit with things like a belt or…”

“Ok, none of that. That’s more harder dominate and I’m a soft dominate. I don’t get pleasure from doing that kind of stuff. No disrespect to people that do, consensually of course.”, Eddie chuckles making you smile. 

“What do you get pleasure from?”

The man smirks as his chocolate irises scan along your frame. 

“You…and submission…”, he purrs. “Speaking of, did you just speak without being spoken to? Mhmm.”, he hums when you start to hang your head again and he catches it between his fingers. “That’s being added to the tally. I am the kind of Daddy that punishes a bad girl and you were a bad girl the last time you were here.”

Your mouth fell open as he slides backward away from you, quirking his eyebrow as if daring you to speak again which you decline. 

“One thing that really bothers Daddy is disrespect. You disrespected me when you called me ‘little boy’. Is that how you perceive me, honey?”

“No, Daddy, I swear!”

“Then why did you say it?”

“I…I don’t know. I…”

“Did little girl have a big emotion she didn’t know how to handle so she just said the first mean thing that came to her mind?”

“Y-Y-Yes, Daddy. I’m so sorry. I—”

His palm across your face gave you pause as you grab your cheek and try to catch your breath. It wasn’t a hard slap but it absolutely got your attention. 

“Color, baby?”

“Green, Daddy.”, you practically pant causing him to adjust the bulge in his jeans at the sound. 

“I didn’t ask you if you were sorry. You answer the question Daddy gives you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m going to spank you, Y/N. 5 for the disrespect, 5 for you speaking when you weren’t supposed to, and 5 for you disrespecting yourself.” 

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion at his statement as he nods and lightly tugs on your palms signaling for you to stand. 

“Take off your dress for me, baby.”

Doing as he instructs; you glide your outfit off your shoulders and down your legs allowing it to pool below your feet. On impulse, you start to raise your arms to cover your body but he promptly grabs your wrists and forces them to your sides. 

“Did I tell you to do that?”

“No, Daddy.”

Eddie’s intense, dark eyes drink you in from head to toe and once again, he shifts himself around in his pants. 

“Goddamn, baby. We’ll have to get more matching sets for you because that black lace is fucking driving me crazy. Fuck. Lay down on your stomach with your head towards me on the bed.”

As you do what he says, the metalhead stands, unbuttoning his shirt before casually tossing it to the side and climbing on to his mattress behind you. 

“Since this is the first punishment, I’m going to take it easy and relax some of my normal rules but I do want you to count after each one. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Abruptly, he grabs your arms that had been resting under your head and holds them at the wrist behind your back. 

“Louder, Y/N! I need to be able to hear you.”

“Yes, Daddy!”

“Good. Now keep your arms right fucking here.”, Eddie grumbles as you feel the bed jostle slightly. As his palms softly run along your thighs, you can’t help but moan. “I told you, baby, these thighs are fucking perfect.”

When his hand connected with your behind your entire body came to life as a squeak escaped your lips. 

“Color, honey?”

“Green, Daddy.”

“What did I say to do after I spank you?”

“C-Count. One, Daddy.”

“You seemed confused when I mentioned disrespecting yourself. Let me make it clearer.”, he declares as he hits you again and you count it off. “You always make these comments about yourself; that because you have some curves that means you’re not beautiful.”

At the word “curves”, Eddie’s palm roughly grabs the meat of your ass before he spanks you again. 

“That because you’ve lived a bit longer than someone then that means you’re not worthy of having fun or being with someone who would fucking worship you.”

*SPANK*

“That because a group of ignorant fuckers made you feel less than, then it must be true. No, baby. You. Are. Beautiful. Say it.”

“I’m beautiful.”

*SPANK*

“Louder like you fucking mean it!”

“Ahhh I’m beautiful, Daddy! I’m beautiful.”

You feel the atmosphere shift as his chest presses to your back and his lips caress the shell of your ear. 

“Inside and out, Y/N.”, he murmurs, delicately kissing your cheek before tilting back. “Now, on to you disrespecting me.”

*SPANK*

“Six, Daddy.”

“Do you think I deserved that? You speaking to me that way?”

“No, sir.”

Eddie carefully pulls down your underwear and throws them towards his closet. 

“Those are mine now. Fuck, baby girl, you’re so wet. Do you like Daddy spanking you?” You can’t help but pout at his mocking tone and in return he spanks your behind once more. “Don’t pout, little girl. You did this to yourself.”

Taking a hold of your thighs, he spread your legs open a bit more and you mewled when you felt his spit hit your pussy lips. His thumb collected the remnants and your mouth fell open as he pressed it against your clit. 

*SPANK*

“E-Eight, Daddy, fuck.”

“What are you going to do next time you feel something like that?”

“Talk to—mmph—you.”

*SPANK*

“You’ll be open with Daddy instead of calling him names like a little brat?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy.”

*SPANK*

“Because you know Daddy’s here to take care of you and would never do anything to hurt you or make you feel unsafe.”

“Yeeesssss!”

Eddie’s fingers grasp the back of your neck as he holds you down and applies the perfect amount of pressure to your clit with his thumb that has your eyes rolling as you come undone. 

While your body continued to spasm from pleasure, he gently turned you on to your side till your front half was facing him. 

“You’re doing so well, baby, taking your punishment like a good girl. We’re almost done. What color are we at, sweetheart?”, he softly cooed as he pets your hair. 

“Green, Daddy.”

“Good. You wouldn’t lie to Daddy right?”

“No.”, you giggle as you keen into the mattress causing a knowing smile to flicker along his lips. 

You’re exactly where he wants you to be; you’ve dropped into the right headspace and thankfully, you seem comfortable. 

Pushing back onto his knees, Eddie fumbles with his belt buckle and your wide, glassy eyes find his as he frees his cock from its confinement. 

“Open your mouth, pretty girl.” Without question, you do what he asks and your eyes flutter closed as he guides himself inside. “You don’t have to count anymore but I want you to keep still and let Daddy use you, ok?”

When you nod, he utilizes one palm to grip your hair as his other spanks your behind. You moan around him and his chest vibrates at the feeling. 

“Shit…atta girl. That’s my girl.” His hand comes down once more while he steadily thrusts his hips. “Tap my thigh if it’s too much, baby, since your mouth is full. Fuck, I wish you could see how gorgeous you are right now.”

*SPANK*

“That’s it. Tongue flat…breathe through y-your nose…”

When his hand comes down this time, the one he has threaded through your hair clings down tighter as he remains still feeling you gag around him. 

“You can take it, baby, fuck! A couple more seconds!”

When he finally pulls back, Eddie spanks you one final time and fully lets you go to allow his face to be level with your own. 

“You did so good, baby girl. What color are you at?”

You cough as he continues to caress your face but instead of answering, you startle him when you dive into his embrace, pushing him back against his pillows as you cry. 

“I-I’m so sorry, Daddy. I promise…I’ll try to be more open with you…and talk to you when I’m…feeling something. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. I really appreciate that. Can you answer my question for me so I know you’re alright?”

“I’m ok. Green, Daddy, Green.” Eddie smiles as he tilts back to kiss your sweaty forehead. “The zipper of your pants is kind of pinching me though.”, you jest, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he laughs and adjusts you both till he’s on top of you after pulling off his jeans the rest of the way. 

“Sorry, pretty girl. Here, let’s take this off.”

As he reaches blindly behind your back to unhook your bra, you tenderly trail soft kisses along his shoulder to the crook of his neck. After the garment falls to the floor beside the bed, the metalhead’s lips latch on to your nipple and on impulse your legs wrap around him as your fingers tangle in his hair trying to pull him closer. 

“Fuck, everything on you tastes so sweet.”, Eddie whispers against your skin as his tongue licks between the valley of your chest to your neck. 

While he sucks that sweet spot along your throat, you feel him reach between your bodies before you both groan as he guides his cock into your entrance. 

“Your okay, baby. Daddy’s got you.” His words cause your pussy to clench tighter around him and he grunts at the feeling as he lifts his head to rest his forehead on yours. “Open your eyes and look at me, sweetheart.”

Eddie watches you struggle to do what he asked as your eyelids flutter open and your jaw drops, your breath warming his mouth as he rolls his hips. The contrast between the gruffness earlier to the softness now felt so euphoric and you were enjoying every minute of it. 

Pushing up onto his palms, he picked up his rhythm, firmly pumping his length deeper inside you than anyone else had ever been. 

“Don’t—shit—don’t take those beautiful eyes off me.”

“Y-You feel…feel so good…”

“Yeah? Daddy’s cock feels good? Keep talking to me, baby.”

“Don’t…don’t stop…please. I need to feel you cum.”

A breathy fuck left his lips as his head hung and the tendrils of hair that had fallen out of his hair tie grazed cheek. Your hands found purchase on any part of his body you could touch, his sweaty chest, his muscular back, and his equally damp neck. You leaned up to press your mouth to his and the taste of his tongue mingling with yours was more than enough to drive you over the edge. 

Eddie felt it immediately, falling flat against you to roll his hips as hard as he could till you body shook and came. 

“Good…good girl. Daddy’s gonna give you what you want.”, he whispered with exasperation, desperate for his own release. After a sexy smirk and a soft caress of his nose against yours, his head fell to the side as he chased his high, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room till you heard him loudly grunt in your ear. 

His fingers dug into the pillow beside you as he slammed his spend into your cunt and your limbs clung tightly around him, guiding his movement with your palms on his ass.

You were in such a total state of bliss you didn’t even feel him get out of bed until you were being lifted into the air. 

“Whoa, sweetheart, it’s alright. I’m just taking you to the shower. You’re ok.”, he comforted as you quickly clung to his neck. 

You hissed briefly when warm water hit your behind but once it subsided, you melted into the water pressure. Eddie kneeled in front of you and tenderly kissed parts of your skin as he reached for something behind you. It took you a moment to realize what he was doing, surprising you when the feel of a washrag carefully glided along your frame. 

No one had ever done this for you before. No one had ever taken the time to do any kind of aftercare let alone be this in depth. Your eyes carefully watched as he focused in on his task, being extra gentle when the rag ran along his handprints on your ass. 

Rising to his feet, he cleaned the rest of you and as soon as he was done, you (a bit roughly) wrapped your arms around his waist as you placed your head against his chest. His own arms circled around you, holding you to him as he rested his cheek on top of your hair. You listened to his heartbeat as he silently held you; for how long you weren’t sure nor did you care. 

When you finally pulled back and your eyes met his, you saw nothing but care.

After spinning you around, you giggled as he allowed the water to drench his hair and body while he haphazardly ran his palm with soap along his skin. When Eddie was done, he made you laugh harder as he turned off the faucet and shook his head like a dog in your direction while trying to contain his own smile. 

“Wait right here for one second, ok?”, he asked after guiding you out and handing you a towel. 

The metalhead wasn’t gone for long and when he returned, he hastily dried you making you realize that you hadn’t even begun doing the task yourself waiting for him to come back and take care of you. 

When he brought you back out into his bedroom, you took note that he changed the sheets and laid out some essentials onto his mattress. Once he had a pair of boxers on, Eddie turned you away from him as he took a seat on his bed and after a few moments you felt something cold touch your skin. 

“Op, sorry. I should have given you a little warning. This is lotion to prevent any kind of bruising or anything like that to this sexy ass.”, he conveys, his smile growing when you laugh. “You may be a bit sore for a day or two but… Do you feel like you need anything else, honey? Ice or anything?”

“No, thank you.”, you reply in a small voice that tells him you’re still slightly in that headspace.

“Ok, pretty girl. How are feeling in here?”, Eddie asks as his fingers reach up to playfully tap your forehead. 

“I feel ok…calm…I’ve never…no one has ever taken care of me after.”

The boy notices your expression sadden slightly and as he pulls a big shirt over your head; he kisses your lips and brings you closer to him. 

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that with me, sweetheart. No matter what, Daddy will take care of you and do aftercare. That’s another important rule, ok? After we play, I need you to be open and honest with me about how you feel. If you’re in pain or your head feels a bit heavy and low, let me know.”

“I promise.”

Nodding to himself, he reaches for the water bottle he brought, handing it to you so you can chug some of it back before handing it off to him who promptly finishes the rest and tosses it towards the trashcan. 

“What about you?”

“What do you mean, babe?”

Blinking and shifting bashfully, you try to answer his question while in your current headspace. 

“How do I…aftercare you?”

Eddie beams up at you so wide you can’t help but blush before he circles his arms around your waist and pulls you back into his bed. 

“Taking care of you is my aftercare but I love that you asked me that. I promise though, if I need anything I’ll be open and honest with you.” His gaze shifts for a moment as a thought passes. “This is more a less what being in a sexual relationship with me is like, Y/N. Was there anything I did that you would rather we not do?”

“I liked it, Eddie…all of it.”

“Good…good. That’s why I had you leave the other day. We hadn’t had this talk yet and I didn’t know what you were comfortable with. When it comes to being Daddy, I can be stern when I need to be. When I’m with Steve, we usually do the harder stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Restraints, slapping, toys, humiliation…”

“Maybe…maybe I can watch one day…if you’re comfortable with that.”

Eddie’s slightly surprised expression meets your serious one. 

“Are you sure? I sense that you’ve been through some things…I mean you alluded to…I don’t want you to feel like I’m cheating on you… I haven’t even been on my site except to talk to that friend I told you about.”

Fuck…I forgot about that…

“Eddie, I have to tell you something.” 

As his soft, earnest eyes waited for you speak, you couldn’t help the fear that weld up in your throat. Eddie was the nicest, most caring man you had ever been with and you were afraid once you came clean you’d lose him. 

You just got him back after hurting him once already…

“I…just wanted to tell you…it doesn’t bother me. I know you’re only doing it for the money.”

The metalhead breathes a sigh of relief as he leans down to kiss your lips. 

####################

@dashingdeb16 @myherometalhead @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @twirls827 @micheledawn1975 @chelebelletx @hardladyheart @spiderxbatty @twirls827 @daveythorntonslocker @eddies-dungeon-and-dragon @mrsjellymunson @utterlyinsanity

[lilybug-02]

Ngl Asriel is a bitch in the Chara timeline. I don’t mean this as offensive to you I’m talking about the character in general how bad it is character wise not writing wise (like how Jax is in TADC. He’s a bad guy but not a bad written character).

Asriel pisses me off so fucking much like bro I would’ve dumped his ass ages ago. First off he really doesn’t understand Chara because yeah he hasn’t gone through the shit they’ve gone through and on the soul entity topic. CHARA GREW UP BEING TAUGHT THAT THESE THINGS WERE GOOD- bro should’ve have a little understanding on why they would be a little bit upset.

Oh and let’s not talk about his reaction to when he found Kris like brother immediately thought Chara did something his best fucking friend and that pisses me off- IF HE THINKS THAT LOW OF HIS OWN FRIEND THEN HE SHOUDL FUCK OFF.

I am in no way criticizing you or your writing I love the Chara timeline but I the urge to punch that stupid “good boi” goat is so strong. Chara deserves so much better than him, I know even they have their flaws but Asriel is so much worse.

Damn! I have yet to read a comment so brutal! But I appreciate your insistence that it's not my writing (even though it may be at times lol) and I appreciate that very much. ❤️

Asriel's whoosy attitude IS intentional (and sometimes accidentally unintentional) in the comic. I started fleshing his character out more later in the comic bc I had focused so much on Chara's and Kris'.

I've drawn him to look more as a lovable cartoon goat-man, but he certainly has his faults. He butts heads with Chara a lot because both of them have very different ways of trying to solve solutions.

Asriel is hesitant, thoughtful, and/or a pushover. While Chara can be brash, spiteful, and/or assertive.

I tried my best to match their personalities to their Undertale ones (from my perspective, of course). Chara thinks killing themselves is a good plan, while Asriel goes along with the plan and backs out at the last second.

I make the two fight multiple times in the comic to illustrate their rough friendship. It's not perfect, just like in Undertale, but maybe in this Universe they can have time to develop it in a healthy way.

You are free to choose how you feel about it though!

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Maybee insecure reader x donna?? Ome day reader went to the village to do some shopping unfortunately she met some mean boys there who started commenting on her body and her purchases. Reader comes home crying which worries Donna. Reader locks herself up and stops eating. One evening Donna find reader crying again and confronts her

A lot of fluff at the end pleaseee!!

Yess!!!! I'm sorry about the plot twist, I know you didn't ask me to do it but, seriously, I couldn't help it!! Anyway, thank you for your request! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!! :)))))

False complexes

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, hurt & comfort, unexpected plot twist I'm sorry, some eating disorders...

Word count: 7,503

Summary: You hated looking yourself in the mirror that morning...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! Well, I have to say that: Be careful with those complexes. Be healthy, and be yourselves, always! All the bodies are beautiful!!!

“Oh, come on,” you protested as you tried to tie your dress.

Turning around a little, you looked at yourself in the mirror to check if the garment you had chosen was really as tight as it seemed. Your hands ran over your hips, your belly and your gaze darkened a little. The echoes of the past began to sound in your mind like a distant and mocking whisper, but before they could be heard more clearly, some hands on your waist calmed them down.

“Donna,” you sighed with a tender smile, noticing how the dollmaker's hands hugged you subtly while her lips rested on your cheek.

“Mm?” the brunette murmured. “Tutto bene?”

“What? Oh, yes,” you answered amused, leaning your body on hers slowly, letting yourself be impregnated by the scent of lavender that always accompanied her.  “I was wondering if… this dress looks good on me.”

“The dress?” Donna asked, frowning. “What's wrong with it?”

“Nothing, it's just that it looks very… tight,” you sighed, concentrating on your reflection, to which Donna imitated your gesture. “You don't think so?”

“Mm,” the lady answered dryly, shaking her head and capturing your lips in a mischievous way. “You look beautiful, tesoro.”

“Okay, okay,” you said amused, trying to escape from her addictive kisses. “Hey, Donna, I have, I have to go”

“No, stay,” your girlfriend whispered to you seductively, turning your body and tying your waist tightly. “Stay.”

“Tempting,” you whispered, biting your lip and resting your hands on her chest. “But I can't, Donna, I have to pick up the cake.”

The lady in black moved away with a gesture of surrender.

“I still don't understand why you have to order a cake from those villagers, I can make it much better,” she said, cooling her gaze. “You know I don't like you going to the village alone and…”

“Donna,” you said with a stern, firm tone, putting your hands on your hips. “What did we say about jealousy?”

The woman tensed and looked away, crossing her arms.

“It’s not jealousy,” she said in a childish tone. “Remember that you were dizzy yesterday, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Yesterday?” you asked. “Oh, yeah, well… you know, playing hide and seek with Angie makes anyone dizzy,” you concluded, downplaying it and leaving the bedroom.

“I could make a better cake,” Donna said, comically following you through the dark basement hallways.

“Honey,” you said, stopping abruptly and planting a soft kiss on her lips to silence any further protests. “Going out for some fresh air it’s good.”

“Ma…,” she protested, silenced again by your eager, tender lips.

“It's our anniversary,” you said with a calm sigh, caressing her cheek, suppressing a giggle. “It wouldn't be right for you to spend the morning cooking.”

“Certo,” the lady finally said, giving in to your weak arguments. “But, hey, (Y/N).”

“Mm?”

“Be careful, okay? I don't like you going out,” she whispered, ashamed of her nerves, of her somewhat absurd worries. Luckily, you were quite used to her behavior.

“I always be,” you joked, winking at the lady as you walked out the front door and felt the cutting cold of that place calm your discomfort. “Hey, wait, wait,” you said amused, running back into her arms, kissing her before calmly retreating.

Donna laughed blushingly and, as always when you left the house, she kept watching you until you turned the corner that led to the elevator, ready for a day of shopping in the village.

You were never a self-confident girl, you never believed in yourself or believed you were worthy of love or affection.

You remembered looking with some envy at the maids of the castle, looking at their perfect bodies, their uniforms dancing as they walked and dreaming, one day, of being like them. The lack of friends and sadness made you overweight and, for a girl like you, that was your downfall.

The mockery and laughter still remained in the depths of your mind, and although you managed to get out of there, keep yourself healthy with great effort, and start to stop listening to those mockeries, they would never disappear completely.

At 20 years old, you were a shy girl, but with enough confidence to stop listening to the laughter of your classmates and start to live far from the past. Your body wasn’t the most perfect, but you felt good about yourself.

Maybe that somewhat changing attitude was what attracted her attention.

At the masses in honor of the Black Gods you were just a villager looking for her place in that depressing village, but you were never alone. The Four Lords and Mother Miranda were always there, to remind you why you prayed, why you needed them. Of course when you were a girl you believed what the priestess said, you believed that everyone had salvation, that the Gods could help you, but it wasn’t like that.

No God helped you. Boredom and the feeling of obligation in those horrible masses made you distract yourself, starting to analyze the figures in front of you instead of listening to Mother Miranda's words. Dimitrescu, Heisenberg, Moreau, Beneviento; four founding families and four descendants who were chosen by the Gods.

Each one was stranger than the last, but there was one... a woman dressed in black that your eyes began to focus on for longer than usual.

Donna Beneviento, the youngest of them, was mysterious, captivating; a slender and gloomy figure which always remained silent, despite the sinister living doll she always carried in her arms.

Day after day you looked for new details in her dress, in the veil that covered her face, in her apparently soft hands, in her pale skin. Your observations were written down in your mind, and they waited to be completed, to know what was behind that black veil, behind that silent woman.

Of course, you weren’t as discreet as you thought, and one day, she approached you. Despite your logical fear of that situation, you remained calm while that doll, Angie, questioned you about your tireless glances.

Your clumsy response didn’t generate a punishment or a threat, but an invitation, an invitation to have tea that would be the beginning of your new life.

Donna was a strange woman, extremely quiet and shy, watching you through her veil. It was weird at first, but soon you got used to her silent gaze, her soft words and her hoarse voice, you got too used to it.

Love came like a miracle into your life, two years ago, two years since that first kiss, the revelation of her face, her beauty. She was a terribly beautiful woman. The scar on her face and the gifts the Gods gave her weren’t important to you.

At first the dollmaker was possessive, jealous, claiming you as hers whenever she could, but you didn't blame her for it. Despite that, and the illness of her mind, you discovered something wonderful in the dollmaker, the woman of your life.

“Good morning,” you said as you entered the old bakery.

The woman who served the customers greeted you with a bow that made you frown, but to which you were already accustomed.

“My lady,” she said, to which you rolled your eyes, approaching casually.

“Mrs. Dinovic, you don't have to treat me that way,” you said amused, shaking your head. “I'm just (Y/N), the same old (Y/N).”

“Of course,” the woman said, nodding uncertainly. “Forgive me, (Y/N). I'm just not used to… Well, to…”

“Bah, don't give it any importance,” you said, interrupting yet another apology, an apology that deep down, you adored. “Do you have my order?”

“Of course, (Y/N),” she nodded, taking a wrapped cake that she put on the counter, and which you gave an anxious look to while rubbing your hands. “Are you celebrating something?”

“Yes,” you said satisfied, grabbing the package carefully. “Today marks two years since I moved in with Donna.”

“Oh, um… congratulations,” the old lady said shyly. “I'm glad to see that you're happy, you deserve it.”

“Is that chocolate over there?” you asked, irrationally attracted to some bars that stood out on a shelf.

“The Duke has provided us new outdoor items. According to him, it's the best chocolate in the world,” the baker stated, handing you one of the bars.

“The Duke thinks that anything he sells is the best in the world,” you sighed amused, looking at the bar. “But... you've convinced me, I'll take a couple of them. Tell me how much everything is.”

“Gods, it's a gift (Y/N),” the old woman said, with an almost fearful look that made you sigh and roll your eyes again.

“No way,” you stated, taking a bag of coins out of your bag. “Would you dare to refuse Lady Beneviento’s money?” you joked, leaving the bag on the counter.

The woman laughed and shook her head.

“Good point, (Y/N),” she finally sighed, taking the money. “By the way…”

“Yes?”

“Y-You look good, sweetie,” she commented, making a genuine smile appear on your face.

Maybe the tight dress thing was an exaggeration.

“Thank you, Mrs. Dinovic,” you said goodbye, taking the cake and the chocolate bars, comically maneuvering to be able to carry everything.

Walking back to the mansion, you felt a heat in your cheeks as you thought about that compliment, deciding to open some chocolate, which, for some reason, you really wanted.

“Damn Duke, he's right,” you said with your mouth full, delighting in the sweet taste of the chocolate as you walked, approving his products. “I have to tell Donna to order more, of… oh, boy,” you lamented when one of the bars fell to the snowy ground.

Clumsily you bent down to pick it up, noticing a certain discomfort in your back that you didn't have before. As you approached your target, a quick hand pulled it out of your reach.

“Did you lose something, (Y/N)?” a male voice said, one you recognized long before you stood up again.

It was one of your nightmares, one of the boys who laughed at you when you were younger, the last person you wanted to see at that moment.

“Well, thank you,” you said without looking him in the eyes, trying to retrieve the chocolate, which the boy mockingly pushed away. “Oh, come on…”

“You want this, Moby? I assumed so,” he said, laughing amused, but interrupted by his friend, who made a face of terror.

“Sergei, leave her alone,” his partner said, with an apologetic look. “Come on, give it back to her.”

“So she can break the size record?” the bully continued mockingly, while you began to tremble. “Eating too much chocolate is bad, (Y/N). I think you should know it.”

“Dude, stop it, don't you know where she lives?” his friend insisted, handing you the chocolate quickly and urging the boy to go away.

“At the chocolate factory apparently, isn't that right, Charlie?” Sergei mocked.

You were speechless. You may have forgotten about your past fears, your complexes, but you weren't ready to face them again, you never were.

“Leave her alone or that crazy Beneviento will come for us,” the other said, whispering in a too loud voice.

“Hey, don't mess with Donna,” you said without thinking, earning a loud laugh from the bully, who elbowed his partner.

“Yes, Iulian, don't mess with her. Beneviento is too busy enlarging the doors of her house to fit (Y/N), isn't it?” he hissed with a sinister look, still laughing.

“Shut up,” you growled, gritting your teeth and destroying one of the bars with your hands.

“What do you have there? Is that a cake? I'm sure it's just an appetizer, right?” the boy continued, making tears slowly begin to form in your eyes. “You eat many cakes a day, don't you? Look at you, you barely fit into that dress.”

“Sergei,” his friend protested, pulling his arm again. “Do you want to die?”

“Stop worrying. I'm sure that by the time the fatty gets to the mansion, we'll have had time to escape, don't you think, piggy?” he dragged out his words slowly, making them land right on your chest, which was rising and falling very fast, too fast.

“Shut up!” you shouted furiously, turning around to escape from that horrible situation, a situation that was too common in your childhood and that you didn't want to relive.

“That's it, run, piggy! But leave us some chocolate, don't eat it all!” Sergei shouted, his voice getting weaker the further away you went.

You were nervous and terribly hurt, too much to think clearly. As you walked, on the way to your shelter, with Donna, you thought about those hurtful words, about your insecurity from a while ago in front of the mirror. You knew you couldn't believe the words of that stupid villager, but something inside you repeated them constantly.

Before continuing, shedding several tears in the snow, you stopped in front of an old truck, looking at your body in one of the rearview mirrors.

Your face, red from the cold and crying, seemed to have a rounder appearance than some time ago and your belly seemed to be pressed much more against the fabric of the dress, as did your chest. Was he right?

It had been a long time since you banished your complexes, you changed your life to feel better. You kept yourself in a healthy shape and a fairly balanced diet. You didn't understand why your body was playing such a trick on you, why it was increasingly far from being attractive.

Looking at yourself in the reflection increased your crying and the speed at which you returned to the old estate, with tears and laments being your only companions.

“It's about time, silly,” the Angie doll said with a demanding pose as you entered the mansion, your face hurt by tears and an irrational trembling in your hands. “What have you brought?”

“Angie, leave me alone,” you sobbed, hanging up your coat and checking the cake had survived your frustration.

“Hey, hey, hey!” the doll snapped at you. “What's wrong with your face?”

Taking that as an attack rather than a remark due to your obvious tears, you let out a pitiful moan, shaking your head and heading towards the elevator hallway, closely followed by Angie.

“Hey, silly, I’m talking to you! Did you bring me yarn?” the doll insisted, comically tugging at your dress to slow your steps. “Hey, don’t ignore me, you silly villager!”

“Angie, leave me alone!” you shrieked, opening the door and shaking the leg the doll had grabbed. “Leave me alone, okay?”

“Ugh, stupida,” the puppet hissed, comically walking away with a cocky pose. “You’re unbearable!”

“Whatever,” you sighed as you pressed the button, going down to the basement.

Already in the kitchen, you left the cake on the counter and lowered your head, letting out an intense but discreet cry, one that of course, Donna noticed right away.

“(Y/N)?” she asked, peeking through the door and changing her expression when she saw you lamenting. “Tesoro…”

“Donna, not now, okay?” you said, removing the hands that held your face and wiped away your tears. “Donna, let me go, please…”

“Why are you crying?” she asked, exerting more force in her grip, starting to get nervous because of your attitude.

“Nothing, it's nothing, okay?” you lied, shaking your head and turning your back to the lady, taking the opportunity to pretend while you put the groceries in the fridge.

“Va bene, but, but… (Y/N), amore mio…” the lady in black sighed grabbing your wrist before you ran away again, hurting you.

“Donna, let me go, you hurt me,” you protested, childishly breaking free from her grip and leaving her with her eye wide open and her hands starting to shake. “It's nothing, okay?”

“Sono preoccupata per te, tesoro,” she sighed with an intense look, managing to drag your body close to hers. “You're crying, why are you crying? Did something happen in the village?”

“No,” you answered dryly, wiping your tears on your own and shaking your head. “Nothing happened in the village, okay?”

“You’re lying,” Donna said, her tone accusatory, a tone that revealed she didn’t believe you at all. “What happened? Answer me.”

“I told you nothing happened,” you said, a senseless anger slowly invading you.

“You're lying to me, why are you lying to me!?” the lady said, furious, stamping the floor with her shoe like a little girl. “You're hiding something from me.”

“You know what, Donna? I don't feel like listening to you, nor am I in the mood to put up with your stupid jealousy, so…” you said with an indifferent tone, with the blood boiling in your veins. “I'm going to read.”

“Jealousy? Do you think I'm jealous?” she asked, grabbing your wrist again, digging her nails into your skin. “(Y/N), please… I just, I just want to know if anyone has done anything to you.”

You stopped with a gasp, feeling more tears spilling down your cheeks as you shook your head.

“No one has done anything to me,” you lied without looking at your girlfriend's face, trying with all your might to relax.

“You know you can tell me,” the brunette insisted, cupping your face in her hands, something that made you more nervous.

Your face was rounded, imperfect; she would notice, for sure.

“No, I... no, okay? Everything is fine,” you said with a forced tone, lowering her hands, pushing away her tender caresses.

“I-If someone has hurt you... I... they will... pay for it...” she said haltingly, breathing with difficulty. “I will kill everyone who hurts you, (Y/N), I swear, I...”

“Basta, Donna,” you said with a firm tone, crossing your arms and stopping crying immediately. “I don't need you to do anything for me, okay? I can defend myself, is that clear? Just forget about your murderous madness and leave me alone, can you do that? Can you just leave me alone for a fucking minute?” you snapped, growling and storming out of the kitchen, hitting the shoulder of the lady in black in the process.

“Ma, ma… what have I done?” she muttered before you disappeared.

Luckily, she didn't follow you.

In the solitude of the bedroom, you let the tears and frustration run through you mockingly. The mirror near the closet watched you, looked at you mockingly, looked at your imperfect, swollen body, the tight seams around your waist, your breasts…

“Damn it,” you protested, hitting the mattress and getting up to change your clothes.

It really didn't help you. In the reflection, your body kept laughing at you, your rounded face kept telling you that you were horrible, that Donna would never love you looking like that.

Naturally you weren't going to give up. You had to find a solution to that old problem and above all, try not to take it out on poor Donna.

She knew about your past, about the teasing of your classmates, and she always listened and supported you but fear is irrational. Anger, sadness, laughter... all those contradictory feelings began to haunt you for the rest of the day.

Donna didn’t deserve that attitude. She didn’t deserve to be ignored just because you didn’t dare to talk about what happened.

Talking about it would be reliving it, reliving your traumas, your complexes. Remaining silent was your best option, locking yourself away was the only valid solution you found.

That day you didn’t go up to have lunch; you stayed lamenting in the bedroom, alone, with the only company of the teasing of your past, of that day that had started horribly wrong. But there was something you couldn’t avoid, the special dinner with Donna, the dinner that celebrated your two years together.

“You don't like it?” the lady asked, apparently oblivious to what had happened hours ago, to your absence during the lunch.

Sometimes Donna surprised you. She was always a bit pushy, but mysteriously, when you needed some room, she left you alone. She was a wonderful woman. You didn't want to be rude, you wanted to please her.

“I love it, darling,” you said with a fake smile, playing with your food. “Donna, I don't fancy wine,” you added with an unpleasant grimace as you saw the bottle tilt towards your glass.

“I thought you liked it,” Donna said, frowning, but obeying your request. “It's your favorite, (Y/N), I bought it for you.”

“I know but… I don't fancy it, Donna,”

Of course, wine wasn’t your best ally at that dinner, you had to remain calm, to be able to control your anxiety and not devour the delicious plate of pasta that Donna had prepared for you.

“Okay,” she said, nodding with a shy smile and lighting a candle that had gone out due to the movement. “W-Wait, are you done?” she asked again, watching you push the plate away from you.

“Ugh,” you snorted, pretending to be full, caressing your belly comically. “I'm not hungry anymore, Donna, but it was delicious.”

“Um, but…” she stammered, looking at the food. “It's almost whole, (Y/N), and you haven't eaten, you should…”

“Donna,” you said with a serious, dark tone. “It's our anniversary dinner, I'd like for once, just for once, that you stop telling me what to do, okay, honey?” you hissed furiously, but controlling your tone.

Donna nodded slowly, sad and confused by your attitude, one that you instantly regretted.

“You’re acting weird,” the lady commented after an awkward silence. “Tell me, what have I done wrong?”

“You haven't done anything wrong, Donna,” you answered instantly, shaking your head and looking with shining eyes at your unfinished plate. “Everything is fine.”

“No, nothing is fine, (Y/N),” Donna contradicted you, gently grabbing your hand. “I see sadness in your eyes, I hear it in your words, please, tesoro, talk to me, what's wrong?”

“It's not…” you began, hesitating whether to tell her what had happened, doubting whether you really needed her comfort. “It's not the best day of my life, that's all,” you finished, looking away and holding back a tear.

“I… I'm sorry, (Y/N),” she whispered, getting up and walking around the table, crouching in front of you and gently grabbing your hands. “Tell me, is there anything I can do for you?”

You smiled tenderly, blushing at the ventriloquist's gentlemanly attitude, a very distant one with the rumors that were in the village about her. If only they knew her well…

“You're a sweetheart, Donna,” you whispered, accepting her caresses and looking into her bright eye. “But I don't need anything.”

“Mm…” Donna murmured, kissing your hands and staying thoughtful. “I'm sure the cake cheers you up, vero?” she said, getting up and starting to cut that delicious cake.

“Um, no, I…” you denied, knowing that eating something so sweet wouldn't improve your problem, that you had to resist the temptation.

“Chocolate always cheers you up,” she said, serving you a piece with a smile that couldn't hide her nervousness. “Try.”

“No, I don’t feel like it,” you denied, looking away and dragging your chair a little. “I’m… I’m tired, Donna, I’d like to go to bed.”

“But, but it’s your favorite cake and…” she said, blinking erratically, watching you get up from the chair. “It’s still very early and I would like, I would like us to do something together.”

“As you wish, but in the bedroom,” you said with a tired voice and a sad, but mischievous smile.

Donna smiled, nodding effusively and accompanying you to the elevator. Luckily, you knew what to do to dissuade the lady from her constant attempts to cheer you up. You also held out some hope that some nighttime activity would make you forget. Usually, it always did.

But, it was definitely not your best day.

The kisses echoed in the old bedroom, the caresses on your skin tore through the air with a melodic breeze and your eyes only showed tenderness, love, passion. Her hands wandered through your skin, through your clothes, while her lips rested on yours fiercely, wanting to conquer what had long been hers.

Her thin and cautious fingers traced the outline of your waist and, for some reason, that made you open your eyes and put your hands on her chest.

“Wait,” you whispered with a hoarse voice, moving away from her body. “Let… let me…” you murmured nervously, approaching the lamp on the bedside table and turning it off.

“What are you doing?” the brunette asked when darkness dominated the cold room, turning on the light again. “What's wrong?”

“Well, I thought that without light it could be more… mysterious, don't you think?” you joked, attracting her again to your kisses and taking your hand out from underneath, bringing it closer to the switch.

“But, but I want to see you,” Donna protested, pulling away from your kisses with a pleading look, panting as she began to dominate your neck with her lips. “I want to see how beautiful you are.”

“No, you don't want to,” you said, abruptly moving away from the brunette, pushing her to the side. “Turn off the light, Donna.”

“What are you saying?” she asked, offended by your reaction. “What do you mean I don't want to see you?”

“Nothing,” you lied, shrugging. “I prefer the dark, darling, come on…” you said with an impatient tone.

“No, no, no, no way. Let me see you, please… I want to look at you while I make love to you,” the lady said with a caress on your cheek, placing her hips on yours again.

“Donna,” you protested as she continued, ignoring an innocent request that, for you, wasn't so innocent. “Donna, stop,” you growled, pushing the lady away from your body again. “If it's not in the dark, I don't want to do it.”

“What's wrong with you?” the brunette asked, breathing heavily, frowning and starting to lose control of her emotions.

“It's just that...” you hissed, trying to calm down. You couldn't let poor Donna suffer a crisis because of you, because of your horrible body. “Nothing, nothing's wrong.”

“Y-You're making me nervous, (Y/N), this morning...” she said, whispering, playing with the sheets. “What happened in the village?”

“I already told you that nothing happened!” you shrieked, making the woman back away, scared by your behavior.

“(Y/N)…”

“We better try to get some sleep,” you said, turning over and covering yourself with the sheets, closing your eyes and hiding a tear.

Donna didn't answer. She simply groaned in frustration and lay down next to you, turning off the light.

Sleep took a while to come, and with it images of Donna rejecting you, insulting you for your body, making fun of you. It seemed like you had overcome your problems, but you were very wrong. The encounter with those bullies made you relive your past, made you feel self-conscious again, made you feel even more insecure.

You searched and searched in your mind for a solution, a way to avoid your complexes, a way to stop Donna from despising you for your appearance. You had to do something, or rather, you had to stop doing something.

 Yes, yes, the best thing for you, at that moment, was to put your appetite aside, pretend that everything was fine and lock yourself in, exactly like you did a few years ago.

“How are you?” your girlfriend asked the next morning, with everything ready for breakfast. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes,” you said with a fake smile, leaving the infusion you prepared on the table, ignoring the growl of your stomach. “I'm fine, darling,” you affirmed again, giving the lady in black a soft kiss on the lips.

“You were crying last night,” the brunette whispered, as an informal, discreet comment. “Why didn't you wake me up?”

“Oh, well, I must have had a nightmare,” you said without giving it any importance, blowing the soft steam from your cup. “It's okay, Donna, everything is fine.”

“Mm,” she murmured distrustfully, reaching for a delicious croissant. “Cornetto?”

“No, thanks, I'll just have a tea,” you politely declined.

Donna looked at you confused, but shook her head, devouring the sweet. In other circumstances you would have been amused by the ventriloquist's voracious appetite, one that could even be comical.

But that morning the teasing of your former classmates and the envy you had of the castle maids when you were little made you irrationally angry.

“Hey, stop it,” you snapped unpleasantly, pulling her arm down so she could stop eating. “You've had three, Donna.”

“Cosa? Oh, well, you know I love them,” Donna murmured amused, with her mouth full. “You really don't want one?”

“Ugh,” you sighed, shaking your head and trying to keep your breathing calm. “Can't you stop eating?”

“Mm?” she murmured again, leaving the sweet on the plate and wiping herself with a napkin.

“Your body, look at you,” you said in a disdainful tone, to which the lady responded by blinking and looking at her black dress.

“What's wrong? Have I stained myself?” she asked amused, looking for some leftover croissant.

“How can you eat so much and have that body?” you accused, annoyed, crossing your arms and drinking your bland infusion in one gulp. “Don't you gain weight?”

“Oh, well…” she said, shaking her head. “The truth is that I can't gain or lose weight. My metabolism doesn't change, it must be a Cadou thing,” the lady explained, bringing out the darkest envy that was inside you.

“And that gives you the right to stuff yourself with food in front of me?” you asked in a mocking tone, making her innocent smile disappear from her face. “It's incredible, Donna.”

“Um, but, but…” she stuttered confused again, looking for the cause of your behavior. “What's that about?”

“Not all of us have those privileges, you know?” you exhaled, getting up from the chair. “It seems like you do it on purpose.”

“But what are you talking about? You're acting weird again,” Donna said with a weak voice, getting up from the chair and placing her hands on the table. “(Y/N), tell me what's going on, right now.”

“Donna, you should change the way you cook,” you sighed without thinking, with your mind hurt, not knowing what to do, what to say, how to face your fears without involving the woman of your life. “Pasta, pasta and more pasta… Don't you know how to cook anything else?”

“What?” she asked, frowning, offended. “I thought you liked my food.”

“I like it, but it's unhealthy, don't you see, darling?” you affirmed with a childish tone, leaving the lady even more disoriented.

“The food I prepare is healthy and balanced,” she defended herself with arrogance. “If you have a problem with that, just tell me.”

“Then why I’m that fat?” you asked in the air, pointing at your body.

“Fat? (Y/N), you're making me very nervous, I-I don't know what's going on and...” the lady said, having difficulty pronouncing the words correctly, trembling in terror at your nonsense. “T-The voices...”

“Voices? Oh, great,” you sighed abruptly, raising your hands. “Okay, keep your stupid voices, I don't feel like putting up with you.”

“(Y/N), why are you doing this to me? I didn’t do anything, I didn’t…” Donna said haltingly, sitting up, her breathing becoming increasingly labored. “I can’t…”

You, realizing how unpleasant you had been, how unfair you were to poor Donna, relaxed your expression, putting your hands on her shoulders.

“Shh, darling, calm down… Donna, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, my love,” you repeated over and over again to make her reason before a terrible crisis. “I shouldn't have spoken to you like that, forgive me, honey, please…”

“What did I do wrong?” she asked, without listening to your reassuring words. “Is it because of something I said? I-I don't know what I did wrong…”

“No, no my love, I just… I'm just in a… bad mood, dizzy and… it must, it must be the damn spring and… my love, you're hurting me,” you protested when her hand grabbed yours, too tightly.

“Don't leave me, please, please, I…” the lady said desperately, with a lost expression, out of her mind. “Don't go…”

“I'm not going anywhere, I… It's, it's better that I go down… to… to read,” you sobbed, unable to contain your helplessness. “I just need some time alone, do you understand, my love? Come on, Donna, tell me you understand.”

“Y-Yes,” she said, nodding slowly. “I-I'll give some room.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, kissing her tenderly as she loosened her grip. “It's just a phase, just that. You, you stop worrying... I love you, Donna.”

“Ti amo, (Y/N),” she replied slowly letting you go, watching you walk away again, succumbing to your old loneliness.

Nothing improved after your time alone. In the mirror, you checked to your dismay how all your clothes seemed to be a bit tight on you. It was no use telling yourself that you were exaggerating; all you saw was a chubby girl being harassed by bullies.

You stopped eating, you stopped wanting to taste the delicious dishes of the lady in black, but she, she stopped asking questions. Donna was obviously worried, but your words and requests were much more important than her worries.

You knew she sent Angie to spy on you when you went down to read, when you wanted to be alone. She knew you were crying, that something bad was happening to you, but she didn't say anything.

Until that night.

Your stomach hurt terribly, you had barely eaten a piece of fruit or an infusion. In bed, you tossed and turned trying to eliminate your appetite, but nothing worked, not even the hug, the comfort that Donna discreetly gave you, surrounding you with her arms, with the warmth of her body next to yours under the sheets.

Poor Donna, she didn't know what to do to calm your grief anymore. She was tense, desperate, almost as much as you.

The hunger was too insistent, and the lack of progress in your absurd goal of a perfect body frustrated you. Your mind was screaming at you, urgently demanding food. You were so depressed that you didn't think much of it, carefully getting up and heading to the kitchen.

The delicious cake from days ago was still shiny, calling you like a tempting snake. Your mind said yes, your stomach too, you had no other choice. Slowly you took a piece and little by little, it disappeared into your mouth.

Your useless and unhealthy improvised diet had failed and, as you wiped the chocolate from the corner of your mouth, a new reflection took over you. In a nearby pot, your swollen face shone, reminding you how unattractive you were, how much you had lost, how you had irremediably gone back in time.

“Fuck!” you shouted hitting the counter, letting the tears invade you, the regret for that delicious delicacy take over you.

You sobbed, cursed and cried for several minutes, regretting the day you were born, the day you met Donna, and imagining in your mind, the day she would abandon you.

“(Y/N),” a soft voice said, Donna, who appeared through the door, watching you in silence.

“My goodness… how long have you been there?” you asked as you dried your tears, regaining your composure.

“Long enough,” she said dryly, running to your side, hugging you without making any comment, pressing your head against your shoulder, making lavender invade you, making you want to cry even more.

“Donna,” you sobbed, burying your face in her body. “Donna, Donna…” you repeated clinging to her, letting your pain out.

“Amore mio… I'm here with you,” she whispered, with a calm tone, less impatient than in previous days. “You don't have to cry alone, tesoro…”

“You don't understand, I… I was really hungry and… I ate a piece of cake and…” you explained in the middle of crying, letting her arms, her hands, act as a buffer for your cries.

“Mm, it's normal that you're hungry, you haven't eaten for several days,” Donna said, lovingly stroking your hair.

“I know I'm weak and that I shouldn't but…” you continued sobbing. “Oh, Donna, I'm not okay.”

“I already know that,” she answered, pushing you away to dry your tears with her fingers, without stopping looking at you. “I beg you, (Y/N), tell me what's wrong.”

You moved away, looking at the floor without stopping sobbing, knowing that you couldn't hide much longer. It was the moment of truth.

“The day of our anniversary, when I went to get the cake I…” you began, taking a breath, ready to be honest. “I ran into my old classmates and they… they.”

“What, amore mio? What did they do to you?” the brunette insisted, brushing your hair away from your face, with an understanding voice that she had surely been rehearsing.

“They messed with me, they said I was fat and… then, then I looked myself in a mirror and I realized… that they're right,” you explained, noticing how little by little the pressure in your chest decreased.

“What? That's not…”

“Shut up, okay? You can say whatever you want, Donna, but I have eyes on my face, look at me, I'm a whale…” you interrupted, pointing at yourself.

“No, you're not, you're beautiful, tesoro, stop talking nonsense,” Donna said, nervous, seeing how little by little you lost your calm.

“You say that to make me feel better, but I know it's not true. My body is horrible and you… you're just with me so you're not alone, but you think the same as everyone else, that I'm a whale.”

“Stop talking nonsense, (Y/N),” the lady snapped, in a very serious, severe tone. “Your body is fine, there's nothing wrong with it, you're perfect, gorgeous, (Y/N), the most beautiful girl in the world,” she said with a sincere smile, one you couldn't believe.

“You can't deny what you see, Donna.”

“I don't see anything,” she protested, crossing her arms. “I see a beautiful girl, with a beautiful body and…”

“Stop it! Will you?” you shouted, making the brunette back away, without losing her nerves. “Look, look at me Donna, touch me,” you demanded, bringing her hand to your rounded face, to your wider hips, to your belly. “Are you going to keep denying it?”

“I can't deny something I don't believe, tesoro,” she said, grabbing your wrists to stop you. “Your body is perfect, you're a beautiful and healthy girl, you don't have any problems and... tell me, tell me who it was.” Her tone darkened little by little, a sign that she you to calm down.

“What? No,” you denied, seeing a shadow in her gaze that made you tremble. “No, Donna.”

“Tell me, (Y/N),” she asked you again, to which you shook your head. “They will pay for that.”

“Do you think you can solve everything by killing innocent people?” you protested unhinged, trying to avoid a tragedy.

“And you think the best solution to your problem is to stop eating? Angie, we're leaving!” Donna shouted, going out the door, stopped by a hand on her wrist, one that tried to pull her back.

“No, no, no, no! Donna, don't do anything!” you screamed, making your voice bounce off the walls. “Don’t do anything, honey, please, just… just hold me,” you sobbed, throwing yourself into her arms. “Hold me, Donna, please.”

She snorted, but finally fulfilled your wish, holding you tightly against her, silently, caressing your head, kissing you softly, doing everything that her erratic words couldn't do.

“I don't care about your body, (Y/N),” she whispered softly, still caressing you. “I will always love you, just the way you are. You are already perfect like this, amore mio, don't believe the words of fools. Don't you think that I don't care about my appearance?”

“It's not the same, Donna,” you whispered, miraculously calmer. “You are perfect.”

“Grazie, (Y/N), but you are very wrong,” she said amused, kissing your hair. “Neither I nor you are perfect, but we are together and perfection changes its meaning when I look at your face, when I delight in your beauty.”

“Sometimes you are too tender,” you laughed, pressing yourself against her chest. “B-But it's true that I'm getting fat. I-I don't look attractive.”

“Well, you're blind,” Donna joked, lifting your chin to slowly capture your lips in a wet, salty kiss.

“No, you're blind,” you whispered, rubbing your nose with hers, finally understanding that everything was fine, that the past tormented you, but you had to learn to ignore it. “Look at my face. Don't you think it's fatter?”

“Um, no,” she said, playing with your hands and looking at your features.

“Come on, all the dresses are too tight on me and… look, look at this, my breasts have grown,” you exhaled pointing at your body, making her mischievous eye rest on the indicated spot and move it away immediately.

“It must be your imagination,” the lady hesitated, shaking her head and fixing your hair. “You are just as beautiful as ever and your… your breasts too.”

“I was expecting that answer,” you joked, letting yourself fall back into her arms and immediately pulling away. “But I still feel… ah!” you protested when you touched your own chest, feeling a strange pain.

“What's wrong?” she asked, worried.

“Nothing, it's just that… they hurt a little,” you said frowning, running your hand over your breasts.

Donna pulled away with a strange look and looked you over meticulously from top to bottom, lifting your nightgown.

“Do they hurt?” she asked without looking at you, observing your slightly swollen belly, with a completely disoriented face.

“Yes, I don't know, it must be because I've gained weight and… Donna!” you screamed when a cold hand rested on your skin. “What are you doing?”

“Now that you mention it… you do look a little different,” the ventriloquist murmured, focusing on her exploratory caresses.

“I'm fat, aren't I?” you sighed, your smile fading at that sincerity on her lips. “I knew it, I knew that…”

“Taci,” Donna silenced you, shaking her head and looking at you with a frown. “(Y/N), tell me, when was the last time you bled?”

“What? Well… I don't know,” you said confused, surprised by her sudden nervousness. “A couple… a couple of months ago, I think, I've always been very irregular and…” As you spoke something came to your mind, a possibility you hadn't considered. “Gods, Donna, do you think that…?”

“Is it possible?” she asked quickly, grabbing one of your hands with hers, with a gleam in her eyes that led to a wide smile on your lips. “(Y/N), you're not getting fat... I think, I think you are...”

“Oh, Gods... is it true? Are we going to...?” you asked, with a different euphoria, completely forgetting about the hurtful words of those bullies, finding a wonderful meaning to those distorted reflections, to that non-existent complex that was becoming more and more evident in your body.

“Questo è il giorno più bello de la mia vitta!” the brunette shrieked, picking you up in her arms and spinning you in the air while the two of you cried with emotion. “(Y/N)!”

“Ugh, honey, put me down,” you said amused, protesting with little blows to her shoulder. “It's the happiest of mine too,” you whispered, panting from the weakness of your body. “But be careful, darling, I'm very weak.”

“Certo, you… sit down and… I'll prepare something delicious for you to eat and… please, stop getting lost in your past, okay? Now the present is the most important thing, and the future.”

“Yes, I… I've been stupid,” you said, fighting against the effusive kisses of your lover, slow, suggestive and nervous kisses. “Donna…”

“I'm sorry, it's just that I…” she said, repentant for her enthusiasm, giving you one last kiss and looking at you slowly, intensely. “You are my beautiful girl, the most beautiful in the world and… Gods… (Y/N), I don't want to hear you say nonsense one more time, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, making a funny gesture. “You're right, Donna, I don't care what those assholes say. I'm not perfect, but I think I could be am when I'm by your side,” you whispered into her lips, capturing them with emotion, bathing them in tears, this time, of joy.

“I'm coming, Donna, I'm coming!” a squeaky voice interrupted the moment.

The Angie doll appeared in the kitchen, quickly climbing the counter and gripping a large knife in a comical way.

“Well, who needs to be taught a lesson?” she asked in a threatening, amused tone.

“Angie,” Donna sighed, approaching the doll and taking the knife away. “Angie, we have some news to give you, (Y/N) and I are going to…”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no…” the puppet sighed. “I'll just say one thing… I don't change diapers!”

[ranunculussy]

enigma | part 06.

saturday

ꕥ part 01. | part 02. | part 03. | part 04. | part 05. ꕥ pair: Spencer Reid × BAU!fem!reader ꕥ warnings/tags: mentions of IKEA, awkwardness, somewhat oblivious Reid and reader, age gap, slow-burn, mutual pining, rivals to lovers, english isn't my first language so bear with me pls, idk about other warnings ꕥ word count: ~2.5k ꕥ summary: Spencer can't quite figure you, his rival out and this annoys him more than it should ꕥ a/n: hi guys! thank you so much for reading my work. i just wanted to apologise for the shorter chapter and that it took longer to update than usual. i was planning to post this originally around valentine's day but university started and things got a tiny bit busy. [this fanfic is also available on AO3 with the same title and username]

Pouring salt and lemon juice on an open wound would’ve felt like a walk in the park compared to asking for any kind of help or favour. You always handled everything independently and on your own way. You were ready to drop everything on the spot and lend a hand to those who asked but always made sure to deal with your problems by yourself. Among other things, this aspect of yours was a mixture of stubbornness and pride.

So, imagine how embarrassed you felt on that sunny Saturday morning, with your phone pressed to your ears as you anxiously waited for your call to be answered. It’s so dumb, they just got back from the case yesterday. I should hang…

“Hey pretty girl, what’s up?” Derek’s usual playful tone cut through your thoughts, stopping you from pressing the little red icon. You were relieved that you weren’t the one to wake him or at least judging by the lack of raspiness in his tone, he was already up.

“Are you perhaps… free today?” you asked as you quickly paced back and forth in your unusually empty bedroom. One of your cats, who was still very much a kitten, energetically chased after your feet, causing you to come across even less collected, since you had to look out for the little furball too if you didn’t want to accidentally step on him.

“For a woman like you, I’m always free.” Hummed the man at the other end of the line, immediately easing your nerves a bit. You rolled your eyes and let a playful smile spread across your face, which was wiped off just as quickly.

“Ah, for fuck’s sake Nick...!” before you could’ve said anything else, like probably an explanation for why you were calling your colleague, a low scream escaped your lips. “Sorry, my cat is just devil’s incarnate, and he decided it’d be fun to claw his way up on my bare legs.”

“For a moment I got scared that it wasn’t really me you were looking for.”

“Impossible, you know you’re always on my mind, handsome.”

You learned quite early on that Derek’s flirty demeanour was part of his personality and it was never serious when it came to the team. Even in amongst you, he knew that not everyone was open to suggestive comments or playful dirty talk. He made sure to never make anyone feel uncomfortable. Luckily, you were completely okay with this and even became a ‘partner in crime’.

“Okay, out with it. Why did you call?”

“Ah, I need a favour. I know you guys just came home yesterday and it’s totally okay if you say no…”

“Babygirl, I don’t even know what to say no to.”

“Yeah right, sorry. I need to buy a new bed because my last one was older than me and a few weeks ago it decided to end its life, which I can understand. So, I’ve been sleeping on the sofa. I mean, I wouldn’t exactly call it sleeping. And I know that I am even funnier when I’m sleep deprived but now that I’ll soon be back in action, it’d be nice to be well rested, you know. And yes, I could just walk into an IKEA, choose a bed and ask for a delivery, but…” You were definitely rambling and overexplaining yourself, as you did whenever you got flustered or felt awkward. Just like when you gave Reid a gift, you still haven’t recovered from that. The others quickly got used to this, given that they already had a yapper in their company. However, it didn’t mean you weren’t self-conscious if you noticed what you were doing.

“Let me stop you right there. You need help with taking home and putting together a bed, right?”

“Yep.”

“I’ll be there in an hour, but I’m bringing help. These muscles can do a hella lot of things but getting a whole bed to the 7th floor is different.”

“Of course. Thank you, Derek.”

After the call ended, you stood in one place in the middle of your room, trying to calm yourself down, contemplating your life. Asking for a favour shouldn’t make you feel like you’re being hunted for sport. But it did, especially since it included one of your co-workers.

Originally, you planned on getting this done with your brothers, but both were out of the country for two more weeks. You’ve read so many past case files where it later turned out that the UnSubs were previously in one of the BAU member’s homes as maintenance workers or something similar that it made you a tiny bit paranoid. This is one of the reasons why you preferred to fix everything you could by yourself. It was to avoid letting unknown people into your flat. You weren’t that worried about Morgan’s unfamiliar friend though, given that you completely trusted the profiler.

Well, colour you surprised when an hour later as you hopped into the backseat of the black Range Rover Autobiography, you were met with passenger princess Spencer Reid.

“Oh… Hi.” your voice got awkwardly high-pitched. You avoided looking at him both directly and through the rear-view mirror. You weren’t quite prepared for this scenario. It was bad enough that the anxiety caused by being afraid of becoming a nuisance for Derek filled your entire body, now Dr Asshole was there too. And you appreciated the help, you really did. But now this also meant that the man with whom you had an indefinable relationship will enter your home. The home, which was so obviously, undeniably you. It was almost like a piece of your bare soul on display both in a good and bad way.

“Hi.”

“So, IKEA?” clarified Derek before things could’ve gotten even more uncomfortable.

“Yes. I already chose which one I’d like so I won’t be taking up much of your time, promise,” you said and as proof, you held up your phone, with the website open and the specific furniture on the screen.

“Oh, Tonstad was mentioned in a travel brochure I’ve read a few years ago when I was looking for places to visit.” After Spencer took a glance at your phone, his eyes almost literally lit up. He enthusiastically explained what the name of the chosen bedframe and mattress meant. His hands were just as expressive as his mouth. It was sweet, how he probably wasn’t aware the constant movement of his fingers. “It’s a little Norwegian village and was the administrative centre of the old municipality of Tonstad from 1905 until its dissolution in 1960. In 1960, it became the part of Sirdal, and it continued to be the administrative centre there.”

Weirdly, his slightly rambling, lengthy explanation somewhat put you at ease. It was one of those rare moments when his facts weren’t undermining your professional ideas and theories. These facts were simply just facts, it was interesting listening to them, and he was able to keep your attention so much so, that you didn’t even notice how curiously you stared at him.

However, he did. Since you had no reason to use contact lenses on an early Saturday when you weren’t working, those damned glasses were on you again. The sight basically magnetized his gaze to your face through the rear-view mirror, automatically triggering the memory of his weird dream about you from a few weeks before.

For a quick, passing moment he became annoyed. The genius didn’t quite understand why a simple object, invented around the 13th century—with its precursors dated back to the Eastern Han Dynasty in China—had such an effect on him. Spectacles have been around for a few hundred years now, it was quite literally a basic, everyday necessity for almost half the population. At times even he himself had to wear it. So then, why in the hells did you have this weird, unexplainable effect on him? It wasn’t fair, how you were able to cause a ruckus in his extraordinary brain without even trying.

Much to his dismay, he was very well aware how you looked at him from behind. The way the Sun shined on your irises captivated him. All your attention was his. And he had to come to the unfortunate conclusion that he very much liked this.

×××

“Is it okay if I let out my cats now?” you asked the men in your bedroom that got cluttered and chaotic rather quickly. They were in the midst of putting your bed together, however, it didn’t go as smoothly as they planned. Derek wanted to use a simple thing, called common sense, and build the bedframe how it seemed right while Reid insisted on strictly following the manual which he already read and memorised word for word. On top of that, they didn’t let you help them, not even a tiny bit. The one thing that both agreed on was that you’re not going to do anything physically exhausting while you still have a healing wound on your side.

“You have cats?” asked the doctor and he even turned his precious attention from the wooden parts to you.

“No Reid, I just prefer to eat and drink from a bowl on the ground.” the sarcastic reaction came out before you could even register it and, in a way, you almost immediately felt guilty about it. He was there to help you. There was no need for hostility. But you were very much on edge, more than usually, since this was the first time they were in your home. You were aware of the fact that just by looking at the environment you created as a home, he was able to profile the shit out of you, and you didn’t like this at all.

You had various kinds of potted plants everywhere—all safe for your pets—, even on top of stacked books that were scattered around the living room. Your dish rack was filled with colourful mugs, plates and bowls, most of them had different patterns and shapes. You bought the majority of those from artisans who set up stands at different fairs. All of them were unique but the colour scheme matched nicely, making your kitchenware organised and fun at the same time. Some were made to look like a blooming flower, some had animal or geek features on them. Penelope was over the moon when she first saw it, so much so that it wouldn’t have surprised you if she sneaked a few out of your place at the end of the occasional get-togethers.

The bookshelf at the wall between your kitchen and living room immediately caught Reid’s attention, but assembling your furniture was the main priority, so he forced himself not to pay much attention to it. Secretly though, he hoped he could take a closer look at what you read and by what system you organised your books, just so he could possibly get to know you more without having to engage in your usual bickering.

Before the doctor could’ve answered your last sentence, you took a swift turn and left your bedroom. A few minutes later the sound of long, drawn-out meows filled the small flat.

“Yeaaah, I know, I know. I’m sorry.” you answered to your pets in a high-pitched tone. The first one to run out of the bathroom was an adult, slightly chubby black cat with deep, amber eyes. You found her and her brother—the sweetest little calico, who was still chilling in the cold sink, even though you opened the door for him to leave—on a hot summer’s night, during a storm that was one of the worsts you’ve ever seen or experienced a little more than two years ago. The kitten named Nick, is an entirely different story. You found him in a dumpster, near your apartment, squaring it up with a raccoon. He hasn’t calmed down ever since. “But I locked you up for your own sakes. And it was only for half an hour.” To this, another long meow was your answer, to which you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. They were dramatic, for sure.

“Should I consider my win on the last case as a result of you, not having a bed?” Reid’s voice almost made you jump; it was so sudden. He was leaning to the doorframe, curious eyes diligently taking in every single tiny detail of you and your surroundings. You were in the process of taking the sweetest little prince out of the sink. The long-haired calico was rather scaredy and hated unfamiliar people but was a total lovebug for those whom he knew. Unfortunately, the tall profiler wasn’t amongst these persons, so the cat’s instincts took over and, in a blink, he clawed his way out of your warm embrace to hide behind the washing machine.

“Shit! Daisy…” you yelped as you became more and more aware of the tingling, hot pain that spread across your upper and lower arms.

“Ah, I… Khm. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I knew he is afraid of strangers, I should’ve left him alone, but I felt guilty about locking them up for the time you got the bed to my room.” you explained the situation while you started to clean the shallow injuries with some warm water. There were only a few scratches, luckily, but they burned like hell. “The other two will be okay, though. Jordan usually sits on top of the cat tree and judges everyone while Nick brings doom and destruction to all things in existence.”

It didn’t require much brain power to put two and two together, Spencer almost immediately recognised the connection between the names of your cats, however, he didn’t mention a thing. He wasn’t sure how you’d react, and he didn’t want to start a fight. Up until now you’ve only met each other outside of work when the team went out for drinks and even then, you tended to avoid interacting with him. So, instead he silently reached for the soft, salmon-coloured towel and handed it to you, his watchful gaze never leaving your figure.

thank you again for reading my work, hope you're having an awesome day! i hope it isn't a problem that this fic is getting longer, i'm just taking slow burn seriously (only thing i can do lmao) taglist: @halfbloodwriter @starrystormwritings @kspencer34 @maisyyyyyy @theseerbetweenus @throwaway-things divider from @cafekitsune gif from @reidgif

[elenasalvatore1]

I have to make a remark that I meant book!Ginny Weasley. And I meant bookHinny.

One of the most important thing is that Ginny a bit cruel in her jokes. She uses people's weaknesses to laugh and look good against their background, which is a very mean trait. Remember Ron. He really wanted to join the team. Ron is insecure, and Ginny knows it. What Ginny does is she trips up and makes fun of Ron in front of the team and calls him an idiot. It's very cruel. it is not the issue of the age. It is her age. She uses people's weaknesses to laugh and look good against their background, which is a very mean trait. Remember Ron. He really wanted to join the team. Ron is insecure, and Ginny knows it. What Ginny does is she trips up and makes fun of Ron in front of the team and calls him an idiot. It's very cruel. Ginny doesn't care about other people's emotions. Considering that she has no idea what Harry has been through, the fact that Harry is an introvert, the fact that she doesn't try to get to know him, is not Ginny's advantage as Harry's partner.

Mrs. Weasley and Hermione didn't approve of Fleur. Ginny pretended to be sick and was really insulted by the "cow" but she smiled than to Fleur’s face. It is hypocritical.

Second: I can’t agree with you in part that She doesn’t love Harry for his popularity. She loved him because he is a heroic friend. She uses a lot words for that «you was too busy to save world », « I like you so much because you can’t be happy if you don’t fight against V. », «she never gave up on him » and she asked Hermione how to get a guy, when she even didn’t talk to him. The statement that they spent a lot of time doesn’t work here as she started from crush, she used boys to attract his attention. So it has nothing with loving Harry. It is her idea to get a hero.

if you reread my « essay » you will notice Ginn’s selfishness. She always worries about Her worries, but she really does not care about Harry.

i like Harry so much as person, he deserves much more than such relations.

If you read more attentively you will notice, that I think that development for them as romantic couple should be at war. That is why « they grow up in romantic partner is not for them » that you mentioned. I suppose that their relationship could be the most fantastic example of true love. That is based on trust, acceptance, understanding, closeness that make people as the most important ones. And it is amazing.

in HP series there are other examples of friendship between male and female characters . Harmony will not spoil it.

Honestly, it's not important to me how predictable couples are. The main thing is how their relationship is developed. that is why I prefer Harmony with its depth and sense. By the way. and hinny are even more cliches. Hinny is a real Cinderella tale. Romione is a topic for a separate post, everyone in Romione will just be unhappy.

Hinny could be just a school romance but it isn’t connected with true love.

Ya'll really gonna come in here and tell me you love Harry Potter but you hate Hinny.

You're going to tell me to my face that you love Harry James Potter, a man who has been through so much. Lost his whole entire family., and you're going to deny him his greatest source of comfort.

Are you actually going to tell me that you think ferret face or someone who Harry has described as a sister to him is a better fit for him than someone who makes him happier than he can ever remember being.

He was willing to die happily just thinking about her kissing him. Literally his last dying thought but you're gonna come here and tell me that you hate true love.

Please.