#I didn’t actually watch the episode I promise

[daenerysies]

deep diving into the episode three line from rhaenyra, “no one is here for me,” and how if the takeaway from that scene is that rhaenyra is a selfish brat you aren’t proficient enough to do anything past surface-level reading.

in episode one rhaenyra expresses to alicent that she hopes her father gets his son, “for as long as i can recall it’s all he’s wanted.” which leads us (the audience) to understand that while rhaenyra loves both of her parents she feels ostracized from her father (and mayhaps even her mother, to some extent, because of her constant pregnancies) due to his ‘need’ for a son to continue the targaryen dynasty. she is a daughter, only seen as valuable for her womb, which is evidenced that she knows about when talking to her mother. rhaenyra wishes to be a knight and ride off to battle and glory, with aemma giving her a gentle reality check on her lot in life. she does not want to serve the same purpose as her mother.

aemma dies near the end of the episode, with viserys ordering her butchered for the chance that his long-awaited male heir might live. this is a violent and gruesome scene, followed by rhaenyra not even being given the privilege of hearing her mother’s death first. she is instead relegated to members of the small council being alerted, even corlys and rhaenys learning about this before her, she is a silent member on the sidelines. she does not know the extent of what has happened, but she knows that something is wrong.

we have to think about how she learns of her mother’s fate. did otto tell her? did rhaenys? did viserys? did she see her mother’s body ripped open? did she see the bloody sheets left at the scene? was she allowed to hold baby baelon, considering he didn’t die immediately? was she there when he took his last breath? maybe it would bring her some comfort, she didn’t get to say goodbye to her mom. maybe she held him until he passed. did her father offer any explanation? we’ll never know, but these are all such heavy questions in regards to what she experienced that day. she’s fourteen, has spent her entire life watching her mother grieve dead baby after dead baby, losing little bits of herself in the process. it’s no wonder this was a traumatizing period for her, fueling her want (her need) to not be shackled down by marriage and childbirth.

even at her mother and brother’s funeral she isn’t allowed to just grieve, to just be. she has to hold her head high, she has to comfort her father, she has to order their corpses burned. was her father happy for the few hours he had a son? she wouldn’t know, she never will be that for him. how long does he spend wallowing is his self pity? he admonishes daemon for not being there for his niece, but where was he, her father? he banishes daemon, takes comfort from his daughter’s best friend. he finally comes to her, tells her of a great danger rising from the north; from my blood comes the prince that was promised, his will be the song of ice and fire. she hasn’t heard from him in days, a targaryen must be seated on the iron throne to unite the realm against the cold and the dark. her mother is dead, and he has wasted the years since she was born wanting a son. she is now enough, her mother never was.

it has now been six months since her mother's death (murder), and she has been heir the *entire* time. her father won't talk to her, she is still the cupbearer for the small council. lord corlys is angry about a war he says has cost him, the crown will not help. she suggests they use dragons, a show of force against their enemies. her father admonishes her, "it isn't that simple, rhaenyra." he allows the lords at the table to belittle her efforts. the only one appreciative is corlys, "at least the princess has a plan." otto says there are better uses for her talents, she has been heir to the iron throne for six months. she's been given the chance to choose a future kingsguard, she wants one with actual combat experience. the hand is exacerbated, she is firm in her decision. ser criston cole will be the replacement for ser ryam redwyne.

alicent has been visiting her father in his private chambers secretly, corlys wants his daughter to be the next queen. viserys begins openly courting lady laena of house velaryon. rhaenyra and alicent visit the sept, she expresses her worry, her mother has only dead for half a year. the lords seek to replace her, alicent convinces her that she cannot worry about the plots of lords and men, she is the heir, however. why shouldn't she worry? she misses her mother.

she meets with her father, he reassures her, "i loved your mother very much." she apologizes for speaking out of turn at the small council meeting, he tells her she will learn (will he be the one to teach her, though?) daemon has taken a dragon's egg and seized dragonstone, bringing news of his future marriage to lady mysaria. the king means to go himself to stop him, otto will not let him. daemon took baelon's egg. rhaenyra is angry. she reaches dragonstone just after otto's party, she knows they were about to come to blows. she confronts daemon, she is the reason he was disinherited. if he kills her, he'd be done with all this bother. daemon scoffs, walking away from her. he throws the egg whilst still retreating. rhaenyra smiles and leaves. her father is mad once he learns what she's done. she left without his permission, but she retrieved the egg and prevented bloodshed, he should be pleased with her efforts. otto would never have been able to accomplish what she did, he relents.

rhaenys lectures her about the order of things. the realm will never accept a woman ascending the iron throne, but it's different for her. her father is the king, rhaenys' father dies as a prince. her father made the lords of the realm swear obeisance to her, rhaenys never had such a thing. the lords chose viserys over rhaenys at the great council, viserys has not given them a choice. rhaenys is the the queen who never was, rhaenyra is the queen to be. when she is queen she will create a new order, rhaenys warns there will be war (unfortunately she is right).

another meeting takes place between father and daughter. he must take a new wife, someone to help propagate the targaryen line. they are vulerable, to easily ended. rhaenyra understands, it is his duty as king. obviously he will marry laena, the daughter of one of the most powerful houses in the realm and of pure valyrian stock, it is a fine match. alicent is still visiting her father in secret.

her father calls a small council meeting, he means to announce his next wife. rhaenyra is ready, she gave him her blessing (why is alicent here? she never has been before.) her father starts speaking, "i intend to marry... the lady alicent hightower." corlys is enraged, otto is pleased, alicent is anxious. rhaenyra was ready, it has all fallen apart. alicent is her best friend, that friendship dies before her very eyes. she runs from the room.

it has been two years. viserys and alicent are married, and they have a son, with one more baby on the way. the boy's name is aegon, it is his second birthday. he has past his infancy, the lords believe it is only a matter of time until the king names him heir, rhaenyra is well aware of this. the queen visits the godswood where rhaenyra sits. she overrides rhaenyra's authority, commanding the singer to leave. she states the king wishes for her to join them, he wants them to have fun as a family. they do not need her to celebrate his long-awaited son. it is the king's command, she leaves unhappily. alicent wishes for things to be different, rhaenyra knows they never can be.

together they all sit, traveling towards the kingswood. rhaenyra asks after alicent's well-being, viserys reminds her that she will be in this position sooner than late (the same position that killed her mother). "it isn't so bad, the days are long but aegon came quickly and without fuss." the queen states. rhaenyra is hurt, she tries not to show it. the king reminds her she has duties, rhaenyra retorts sarcastically. how long will these duties last, once her father names alicent's son as heir over her? her life will be forfeit before long. no one is here for her.

"no one is here for me." translates to "no one has been here for me. i’ve been alone and angry and terrified for years. i am my father’s heir, but what does that mean? what will it cost? you put me here. daemon put me here. alicent put me here. you have a son now, he outlived baelon and my other siblings. how long until i am cast aside again? made to be some petty lord's wife, made to be a broodmare until it kills me? i don't want to end up like my mother. this heirship is all i have. it will soon no longer be mine. i'm only seventeen. no one is here for me."

rhaenyra is never shown the same amount of grace as alicent for her strifes and anguish in life, for the fact that she too was a child from episodes one through five. rhaenyra might not have been a child bride, but she still spent her life being told she was never enough. she was not a boy, she could not be the heir, her father needed an heir. he kills her mother for it, he ignores her unless she can benefit him. he makes her believe that he will marry laena, only to blindside her by marrying alicent. she realizes alicent has been lying to her for months. her father continues to undermine her throughout the years. he names her heir to spite daemon, which she admits she knows about in episode two. he allows the lords to ignore her. it takes him two years to reassure her he won't replace her. rhaenyra is an angsty teen who has seemingly lost everything and has no support to counter that. she is not upset that no one showed up to a two-year-olds birthday party with her in mind, she is upset that her father continuously overlooks her, that he takes and takes and takes everything from her. he took her mother, he took daemon, he took alicent, he had a son. she has not been able to catch a break due to her father's selfishness. in all honesty, she should have acted out worse, maybe burn everything to the ground. viserys would deserve it, she was far too lenient with him.

#house of the dragon #rhaenyra targaryen #pro rhaenyra targaryen #in defense of rhaenyra targaryen #anti viserys i targaryen #team black #pro team black #anti team green #anti team green stans #hotd meta #i wrote most of this within the past two hours #if you see any typos no you didn't #putting the anti tg tags bc its always them calling rhaenyra a selfish brat #that is my wife i will not let you slander her

[cerealmonster15]

No but for real I’m listening to dndads latest episode [s2ep33] a second time and

Stewie does say “my dad goes there” when he’s talking about the bar to the group. And Peter is in that bar when they get there. And when they find scam he’s shifted into lois. So like. I think scam just like. Birthed Actual Stewie Griffin From Family Guy and Stewie wants to kill him. Bc he’s Lois.

I know very little about family guy but I feel like that’s a thing in the show too……..

……..

It is, I checked the wiki

we’re all guessing who Stewie secretly is and why he’d wanna kill scam but it’s just bc none of us have actually seen family guy so we didn’t know that’s just a plot from the show 😭😭😭

Hermie your real actual brother is real actual stewie griffin from family guy……

#dndads #dndads spoilers #god I’m having a crisis right now LOL #i know bird and pieces of family guy from like #some YouTube videos I’ve watched that talk about it LOL #and as I was listening to the ep again #I. remembered. #I’m going to lose my MIND #sorry for taking about family guy I promise it’s just because it’s painfully happening to me in a dndads episode #a dndads episode engineered specifically to do psychic damage to the listeners #goofs realm is hell but it’s so funny #I’m sure plenty of people caught this actually #but I am not a FG watcher so I had Forgotten #and I think a Lot Of Us probably Didn’t Know or Realize #pain. but also so so funny

[no1ryomafan]

I’m very tempted to make a post on twit asking peeps what makes new unappealing compared to arma bc even if I still really like arma and sick of how tarnish it gets in the SRW fandom, I do think new is more cohesive and probably the best written of the 3 ovas-

But whatever unappealing aspect it has that I haven’t recognized-bc even with the “flaws” I pointed out to myself that it has I don’t think their show ruining-must be a universal thing because for some fucking reason it’s been a struggle to finish this god damn show irl with friends and only two people seemed fully invested anyways 💀 This NEVER happened with arma, especially when I actually sat down to watch episodes with someone, and SVN I’ve always finished in one sitting bc it’s so short, so I don’t know why new is plagued with “oh you wanna finish this show? Throw some life inconveniences above you!”

#meg text #new getter robo #getter robo #this is mainly a exaggeration bc I don’t think there’s a actual outside force by the show causing this lol #but even if with the friends take took awhile to finish arma with me we STILL finished it #but new I’m legitimately unsure if the group gonna be able to bc we already decided to not include two people #for no personal reasons thank god but they didn’t seem to really care to begin with #Also somehow we managed to get through a good chunk of eps per session but still have 5 left #so that makes it more painful bc that’s a lot of fucking episodes #but I’ve had at least 3 sessions where me and friends binged arma to the very fucking end (finished the whole thing in a day once even) #granted I’ve always watched it with just- one other person so that might be the real reason with new #scheduling a bitch and I gotta promise to never do a full group getter watch again after this💀

[d4x]

watching the garak cut gives some sort of perspective on the show. Couldn’t tell you what it is though

#we’re at our man bashi but banned from watching until tomorrow because my other sister who very nicely watched part of ds9 with me #(and watched it normal which I didn’t appreciate nearly enough at the time’ #) #during early covid said she wanted to watch that episode with us but was too sleepy tonight #*bashir. can’t type tonight lol #HOWEVER. with help from my mother (liked Star Trek in the 90s but mostly tng lol) I talked the garak child into watching ds9 Tribble episode #because I promised it was ‘silly’ so that was actually super fun :) #also hilariously my coworker who I have yet to succeed in forcing to watch ds9 but who’s a huge tos fan tried to convince our other coworker #to watch Star Trek today. like ok let’s focus on you first buddy. #text #speaking

[sexynetra]

i found lots of symone pics as i searched for gettyimages gigi so !! here is a delivery of gettyimages symone straight to your door :)

This is so huge for me wowie wow wow what a day what a celebration!

Her face? Her legs? Her understanding of her body??? She’s everything to me and I never even expected to care about her when I started the season 😭

#I appreciate this so much #you single-handedly are saving my Covid experience #I watched all of s13 last night while fighting off an almost 103 degree fever just because symone was the only thing I could think about #that might pull me out of a panic #tmi but alas #she’s just so good #and so pretty #I remember when I started s13 I was like okay I know that symone wins so I’m gonna root for someone who isn’t symone bc she’s too obvious #and then like. two episodes in I went. damn. symone really is the only option actually. she’s SO good #symone my beloved I will write you into a story one day I promise #symone #ask #asks #thecollectionsof #house of Avalon #also I’m so glad that my best friend has good taste in drag queens like I knew I picked good friends when she gushed with me about symone #among all my other favorite queens of course #she knew I would never speak to her again if she didn’t fall in love with jaida #and she actually liked Anetra before I did isn’t that crazy #anyways tag rambles over I love u and ur asks

[void-tiger]

Giant mechs and robots: NAH.

Cat Spirits and themes of found family, non-toxic leadership, and every person and skill and contribution has value: YEAH!!!

#vld #vld salt #sorry y’all. I’m prolly never gonna watch oldton #or transformers #and pacific rim was Pretty Good but I didn’t really hyperfixate on it either (Drift Compatible is NEAT tho) #mechs just…ain’t my thing #if my brother hadn’t Insisted I watch the pilot and especially the second vld episode…I prolly never would’ve tried it #whiiiich is probably why 3-6 are Just Okay (they coulda DONE something with those ideas #(that fit what s1&2 had already established) #and s6-8 are just. No Thank You (aside from the Much WORSE tropes and writing content and quality and tone) #I was never watching it for the mechas #(but the Actually They’re Cats vs Cat Shaped can stay) #I was watching it for the /promise/ of H&C and Humor with platonic bonds + Pretty Space Animation&SoundDesign/VA #after Quite Literally being all but tied to a chair to watch it

[imaginarypasta]

never let it be said i don’t know exactly what i like

#personal #(watching pushing daisies and in between episodes reading chapters of the raven cycle) #i wouldn’t say i’m a fan of this trope in particular (although it comes up in different forms remarkably often) rather specifically i like #the restraint it takes & i admire how both make a promise and keep it #i’ve seen semi-similar plots elsewhere (insofar as there are like ‘rules’ to follow in a similar vein) #and they often are sort of… broken by the love which is like. great for them but not the story i like #and whenever i express discontent at this kind of thing (or any kind of rule-breaking in fiction i deem similar enough) people often go out #of their way to ‘explain’ it to me like how they were able to break the rules #and like first of all it’s so presumptuous to assume i didn’t understand. like people can understand something and still not like it but i #digress. and second that’s awesome if that’s the story someone wants to tell #but personally i’m always very impressed by clever ways around rules that cannot be broken and actually stick to the consequences if they #are. just generally i love when products of restraint pay off #like ppl will explain it for romance in particular not all fiction. but i like such a process in all fiction #this was a huge digression from the original point which is me saying two nickels without saying two nickels

[beauspot]

Thoughts on my second watch of Good Omens 2

i heard the fly buzzing in my first watch but didn’t know why and now i know

Maggie my sweet darling angel baby i love you

Aziraphale turning their car yellow

crowleys “no more dying” in extreme scottish.

Disposable Demon i’ll save you from these awful people i promise 😭

Aziraphale’s little smile when he says “smitten” to Crowley

i wonder if crowley was especially hurt because aziraphale seemed to be able to forgive gabriel who tried to kill him but can’t seem to forgive him being a demon.(still seeing all of this as a metaphor for internalized homophobia, like aziraphale knows he’s not the perfect angel he wants to be and he’s projecting his feelings about that onto crowley)

I can’t believe we got an actual ball. like pride and prejudice, bridgerton ball.

the beautiful score that started playing when aziraphale brought the chandelier down

i didn’t even realize that when they walked in the outfits changed. mrs sandwich made me realize(also i love her)

Nina being the only one to question the weird magical shit Aziraphale and Crowley do sends me so bad.

Season 2 took everything i liked about the first season (aziracrow, queer subtext, gay people, archangels, and beelzebub) and expanded on it

The adorable smile on Aziraphales face when he asked Crowley to dance 😭 he’s so pure(i should have known something was up, everything was going too well)

Crowley saying i won’t leave you on your own and Aziraphale saying i know 🤒

why isn’t aziraphale able to miracle nina and maggie??

crowley and mrs sandwich flirting. too cute

crowley saying he’s neither nice nor a lad.

crowleys little run in heaven when he’s following muriel

maggie giving the middle finger to the demons and laughing in their face when they tried to belittle her. queen

defensive aziraphale is so badass. just because he’s soft doesn’t mean he can’t stand up for himself or the people he loves

the random guitar solo in the final episode theme is so bizarre to me. why is it there?

ahh the raining hearts symbolizing crowleys vavoom plan!

crowley’s heavenly outfit not being white but “light grey”

the relief in aziraphale’s voice when crowley came back 😀

also him mumbling about the halo like he did with the sword 😭 but he sure loves to boast about the things he’s done right to crowley

aziraphale and crowley doing magic together has the power to set off alarm bells in heaven and they barely tried, they’re just in sync

saraqael was such a good addition to the cast.

crowley smiling at aziraphale going off on the angels and demons

“where beelzebub is, is my Heaven.” ���

the little knowing look after crowley mentions alpha centauri

the way they just interrupted michael’s speech by leaving 😭

i think that aziraphale was about to ask crowley to move in but that’s my opinion

the look the metatron gave crowley is so strange. i don’t like that

“JUST US. NOT YOU.”

“You’re not helping, angel.”

the softness in aziraphale’s voice when he talked about making crowley an angel again? how can you hate him! he thought he was doing the right thing!

also the miscommunication these two have is completely out of hand because crowley asked aziraphale if he said no and aziraphale hadn’t given an answer AT ALL to the metatron. the metatron told him to take his time. he went back to tell crowley the news first.

crowleys confession makes my stomach hurt. the way his voice broke when he said “we’ve spent our existence pretending that we aren’t.”. the way he had to force himself past his anxiety to tell aziraphale he wanted to spend eternity with him? fuck.

the way aziraphale tells crowley to come with him. like and through all of this they are losing each other, oh my god.

“i need you!” god aziraphale punch me in the face next time why don’t you?

i feel like in all this anger towards aziraphale a lot of people are ignoring that he put himself out there too. he was telling crowley he needed him just like crowley was

“no nightingales.” FUCK YOU GAIMAN

the way aziraphale touched his lips after. dear GOD. someone get michael sheen an emmy

seeing aziraphale struggle against his wanting to kiss crowley back and his fear and wanting him to come back to heaven further supports my internalized homophobia analogy

also even knowing the kiss was going to happen because of the spoiler it still didn’t quell my shock. nor did it ruin the scene, i think it actually surprised me more because it did not happen how i thought it would.

side note i saw some people saying they thought the kiss was going to be a cop out in some way. like a body swap or as a joke and i don’t really know why?

it just occurred to me that both aziraphale and crowley thought the other one was just doing that thing they do where they say they won’t help, or they’re on their own but they eventually come back not knowing that the other was completely set on these plans they had. this wasn’t like armageddon or saving gabriel.

the second coming…of jesus…

crowley cutting off “a nightingale sang in berkeley square”...i’m gonna jump

this being the ending for the next 3-4 years. oh.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 spoilers #muriel good omens #nina good omens #maggie good omens #good omens beelzebub #aziraphale #a z fell #crowley #anthony j crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable bureaucracy #archangel fucking gabriel #archangel gabriel

[ithebookhoarder]

(BAU Headcanons) Spending a day off with your S.O.

Aaron Hotchner

Ok. So. First of all... Aaron's casual wardrobe is sinful and I feel like I need to mention it when talking about days off. After all, he's not going to turn down the excuse not to wear a shirt and tie, knowing jeans and his usual polo shirts are better suited to both relaxing and possibly chasing after Jack.

If you two ever got a rare day off then he would do his best to make you breakfast in bed, knowing that having an excuse to stay in bed is a luxury.

If Jack is with you, and not at Jessica's, then you know Jack would be right next to him in the kitchen, begging to help. I mean, if you watch Bluey, picture the episode where Bingo is trying to make that omelette for Bandit on his birthday... that's basically the vibe here.

Hotch wouldn’t try to force you out of the house if you didn’t want to go, as he’s perfectly happy to stay in and play with you and Jack. After all, you have the most recent lego set, which you bought him for his birthday, to finish building.

"You up for that buddy? Six hands are better than four, after all."

Or, if you don't have the energy or patience, then you three can curl up on the sofa together and watch movies and the backlog of tv shows you’ve missed out on whilst you’ve been away working. 

Fun Fact: Aaron would rather die than admit to the rest of the BAU that you got him hooked on reality shows like The Real Housewives of Beverley Hills or Below Deck -but he is. He finds them fascinating case studies in human behaviour... or that's his excuse anyway when you call him out on it.

However, if you do want to actually leave the house and get outside then he’d be pretty relaxed about whatever it is you wanted to do, as long as you could all do it together. 

He'd also love it if you both got the chance to go for a run, enjoying the rare opportunity to race you through the nearby park. You can just soak in the sunshine and watch the other people as they make their way through the world, before grabbing a coffee on your way home.  

David Rossi 

Rossi is a man who knows the value of creature comforts, as we've seen repeatedly in the show. You know this man enjoys having time off to indulge himself - and you too.

As soon as he knows he has the day off, you can bet he's driving you to the local farmer's market to buy all the ingredients needed for a home cooked feast. 

Despite promising to be there only an hour, you know he's the kind of person who would talk to each and every vendor, learning all their names and asking after their families as if they've been friends since birth.

You'd end up spending almost the entire morning - and part of the afternoon - shopping, sampling various treats and wares, and buying several bag's worth, before you're finally able to drag him back to the car.

As he's cooking, Rossi would definitely play his favourite records. He alternates between crooning along and telling you tidbits about the artists - and the many crazy memories he has about these records.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I first heard this? We were in this tiny little motel, in the middle of a horrific blizzard, and several whiskeys in..."

It's hard not to get distracted, drawn in as he pulls you close and starts dancing about the kitchen. You'd get so distracted that you almost let dinner spoil and only remember it's even there when you start to smell something burning.

"Ah! Merda!"

After dinner you know you'd end up outside on his patio, enjoying the view as the sun goes down, over a cocktail of his choosing.

Derek Morgan

You know this eager beaver would not be spending a day off with you doing nothing or letting the day ‘go to waste’.

He’d be at your doorstep bright and early, looking unfairly energetic for someone who has been running on minimal sleep all week.

Thankfully, he brings coffee and breakfast with him which is his way of bribing you to get your ass up and out with him. 

As for the day itself, he’d either have the day planned to a ’t’ or he’d have nothing planned at all. 

“Relax, sweetness, we’re letting the day take us where it may. Enjoy the ride.” 

He'd love having a reason to take you to whatever property he's renovating, hoping to share his vision for the place and getting your opinion on it all.

He'd even let you have a swing or two with a sledgehammer if there's a dry-wall that needs taking down. It's a great stress-reliever for you both, and there's nothing like hammering along in the time to beat of whatever playlist he's chosen.

He'd also order you a pizza, or whatever take-out you fancied, as payment for all your hard work.

You know he'd also been keen to help you wash up later, running you both a hot bath to soak in as you actually have the time to enjoy it.

And just between us - he knows Hotch and Rossi would have his guts his they found out - but he may or may not have left your cellphones on the bed-side table just to ensure you get an hour of peace, undisturbed...

Emily Prentiss

Ok. So. Emily loves having a day off almost as much as she enjoys working.

She doesn't require much in the way of plans. In fact, her ideal day off from the BAU involves you, a crossword puzzle, and your usual table by the window at the coffee shop around the corner.

It's right by the window, so you can bathe in the sun whilst you nurse your way through coffee after coffee.

The whole place reminds her of one similar that she spent her time in, in Paris. Just like then, she loves reading books, and completing the daily crossword with your help.

"Damn it. This is what time in Europe gets you - I forgot there's no 'u' in color. No wonder it wasn't fitting."

Emily also has a game she likes to play, watching the people around you, guessing what their stories are and imaging outlandish profiles for them all. It's a privilege to enjoy it when it's for entertainment and not out of a need to be aware of your surroundings or an ongoing threat assessment. 

Afterwards, you'd go for a stroll around the park and most likely visit the shops you rarely get a chance to.

You both spend ages going through the racks and modelling outfits for one another, knowing you need some new things to fill out your wardrobes other than work-attire. It's a like private treat for yourselves.

Once you're home again, I feel Emily would want to cook and would do a pretty good job when she has the energy. However, she is not above ordering takeout when you both can’t be bothered. 

After all, it gives you both more time together to lie in bed, with Sergio curled up between you, purring loudly as you take it in turns to pet him.

JJ

Depending on when you two got together (before or after Will), she would love to have a chance for the both of you to spend the day with Henry.

You're her family and the most important thing in the world to her. It's why she can't stop beaming as you spend the afternoon at the park together, running rings around the place and clambering all over the playground.

"I swear this kid is faster than most of the Unsubs we chase - and more sneaky too."

JJ would bring all your favourite snacks with her so you can all lie out on the grass and feast once your energy levels drop. She doesn't even mention the sugar content or how many E-numbers there are. You all deserve a treat, Henry included, so she's willing to put her 'mom hat' aside for a minute.

I feel like she'd also try and put her mom hat aside so you two can have some time without a child in tow. She'd try and make a last minute arrangement to get a sitter so you two can have some 'adult' time.

This normally involves making a reservation at your favourite restaurant, and insisting on you both dressing fancy just for the fun of it.

After all, you never get to play at being grown ups and just enjoy wearing something because it looks nice and not because you can run around in the field in it.

"I've had these heels for years and I swear I've only got to wear them like three times - and this skirt! I love this skirt."

Once you get to the restaurant, you spend hours just talking, drinking, and eating before taking a stroll on the way home.

You then curl up in bed and fall asleep to the sound of the TV playing your favourite movies, safe and warm in each other's arms.

Penelope Garcia 

This girl is the queen of relaxing. If she doesn’t have to be awake before noon then you can bet your ass she’ll be tucked up and toasty till 12:01. 

Once she's awake, however, she's a flustered mess, struggling to pick between her various plans for your time off together. There's just so much she wants to do with you and never enough time.

"What? I'm the queen of fun and I just want to make sure we make the most of our time together, sugar plum. I can't help it. I'm excited to have a day just you and me, not that I don't love the others too. I do, but you know, just having it be us is rare -"

You stop her rambling with a kiss, which of course makes her melt.

I feel like Penelope would always try and spend part of the day with you in the kitchen, baking a new recipe to take to work for the others to try.

She'd also love spending the day on the sofa with you, watching either a Rom-com or a Sci-fi marathon (depending on your moods).

Once the decision has been made, she'd insist on gathering supplies - AKA: onesies, takeout and face masks.

"It's the holy trinity of self-care," she explains, holding up your choices. "Now, do you want the tea-tree or coconut face mask?"

However, if you do feel like getting out of the house, then Penelope would take you on theatre trips - which are booked last minute but with amazing seats (courtesy of Penelope’s connections and slightly unorthodox know-how).

The others are still jealous after finding out she got you tickets to Hamilton, front row, with the original cast.

Dr Spencer Reid

You know Spencer is the kind of person that has a list of things the size of his arm that he’d love to do with you on a rare day off. 

You’d probably have to negotiate with him to figure out which ones you could reasonably do in just 24 hours - and you try to find a balance between appeasing his interests and yours. 

For example, you don’t mind sitting through a Russian movie festival if afterwards he agrees to let you wander around your favourite bookshop and spend as long as you want exploring the shelves - without him critiquing or spoiling the endings before you even have a chance to read the blurb. 

If you also happened to let it slip that you'd never watched every single episode of Doctor Who that's ever been made, then you know your future days off will be spent marathoning on the couch. 

"I'm just saying that he's underrated as the Doctor as arguably the narratives of his episodes are far better developed and reflect the point of the show, which is that the Doctor isn't perfect but rather a time-travelling refugee who acts as a healer, counsellor, and protector of the universe. It's why he calls himself 'The Doctor' ..."

He always looks so adorable when he gets excited about something he loves. It's hard not to fall in love with him all over again.

Apart from watching TV, you both also love spending days off on that couch, curled up together, reading your way through the stack of books you both had in your never ending ‘TBR’ pile. 

Spencer would love listening to you discuss whatever you're reading, doing his best to memorise the characters, plots, and your thoughts on both. It's the least he can do when you listen so patiently every time he starts rambling on about whatever his latest hyper-fixation is.

"Can I... can I borrow that when you're finished? I'm now curious - just don't tell the others, ok?"

Masterlist

#ithebookhoarder #thesilentmage #masterlist #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #derek morgan #derek morgan x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #david rossi x reader #david rossi #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #penelope garcia x reader #penelope garcia

[butwhyduh]

honestly jdk just tim drake x reader where one/or multiple of the batfam walks in?? i just find them entertaining, or they are continually being interrupted through the day!

Warning: eventual smut and Tim is done with everyone’s shit. If it’s not the end of the world, don’t call me- level done. And you can tell it’s fanfic because Tim is actually an adult.

Tim didn’t get into shows very often. He’s busy and he has a terrible habit of falling asleep after the first 10 minutes. He didn’t want to watch the show but he was tinkering with some of his tech while sitting on the couch and you put it on. And that’s how he got sucked in.

“And Daphne said yes to that? Drew is not good enough to lie to her friends over,” he said and you started telling him the backstory.

You binge watch the next few episodes to catch up to the new season. It was a fun and scandalous show, nothing like Tim’s usual picks. And he thought it was cute how animated you were when talking about the show.

“Trevor needs to get his shit together or not only is Naomi going to leave him, he’ll go to jail,” Tim said.

“Yeah but he owes the local crime boss money and he said he’d kill his family otherwise,” you countered.

“Sounds like Gotham,” Tim quipped. You lightly smacked his arm before laying your head on his shoulder and entangling your arm in his.

“That is not comforting,” you said. “Oo they’re going to tell us who took the diamonds!”

The bat phone started ringing almost off the coffee table. You groaned and let Tim go to sit up to answer that.

“The corner of 17 and Parkway? How many combatants?” He said in Bat speak. And that’s when you knew your date night was over. He hung up and turned to you looking apologetic.

“I have to go,” he said. You sighed but pulled him into a hug.

“Be safe. I’ll be here,” you said with practices familiarity. He kissed you before grabbing his stuff and leaving. He didn’t get back until hours later with some fresh bruises and a girlfriend asleep on the couch.

It was 2 days later that you tried to continue the show. Tim had told Bruce to call someone else first. The door was locked and his phone was on silence. You’d even given him some pretty good incentives if you were uninterrupted and alone after the show.

It was all of ten minutes into the continued episode with pho takeout on the way that the fire escape window opened. In flopped Nightwing covered in mud.

“No,” Tim groaned. You huffed before pausing the show. “Do you need help?”

“Only a bit,” Dick said as the understatement of the year. He let Tim look at him to find that he was leaking blood all over the carpet from a bullet wound in his thigh. “Only a graze. Do you have a bandaid?”

“Good lord,” you replied as Tim called Alfred. You quickly grabbed a towel to stop the bleeding.

It was a few hours later and a carpet cleaner before Nightwing and your carpet were patched up. By that time it was the middle of the night and you couldn’t concentrate on anything. Tim promised a date night another day.

This one was a whole week later. All of the Robins had been warned under pain of torture to not talk to Tim for that evening. Because Tim was to put it mildly, frustrated. You two hadn’t had alone time in over a week.

You started the show back up with all entrances locked and phones off. You were able to watch the next 15 minutes before you heard broken glass.

“Hey did you know your window was locked,” Superboy said standing in front of the window. Tim practically growled before pausing the show to shove Kon out the window.

“I don’t know what you need but the other members of Young Justice are available. Call them,” Tim said but it was already too late. The wind had blown into the room and it was starting to snow outside so he couldn’t exactly ignore the window. Once again date night was canceled.

Tim was so frustrated that he had dreams about you in his bed. It was almost a week later and now 3 episodes behind on the show that you had another date night. He was almost willing to skip the show entirely at this point just to have alone time.

Tim had practically threatened everyone he knew with death threats to leave you both alone.

“Someone is feeling the mode,” Bart joked.

“You mean, someone needs to get laid,” Kon added.

“At this point, yes! I don’t want to see, hear, or think of either of you tonight. Unless it’s the  apocalypse, then I don’t want to even know about it,” he growled. The two other heroes howled with laughter as he left.

You could tell Tim was distracted and preoccupied by the way his hand gripped and squeezed your thigh. He gave you frequent kisses between scenes. As the episode ended, Tim pounced.

“Tim!” You gasped as he pushed you to lay on the couch before the credits were even done. It turned to a moan as his hand slid between your thighs to rub you through your panties.

“It’s been way too long,” he groaned as he kissed down your throat. He was almost never this aggressive and it was dizzying. He pushed your panties to the side to finger you.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped as he hit deep inside you. His hips rubbed his hard cock against you. He pulled at your shirt with one hand.

“Take it off,” he groaned with impatience. Before you had even gotten the fabric over your head, he had attacked your chest. Pulling a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard while fingering you thoroughly had you whimpering.

You shoved down his pants to grasp him in a loose fist. Tim rutted into your hand while sloppily kissing across your chest.

“Please, want you,” you whined and he wasted no time sliding in. Your back arched with a gasp. His arm reached behind your back and Tim took his time with long deep strokes.

This pleasure cycle couldn’t last forever and you both finished far too soon. Tim kissed you softly and gently.

“We can continue this later. I think the food is here,” he said.

“Sounds good,” you said adjusting your clothes and sitting up. “I’ll be right back,” you added as you went to clean up.

Tim answered the door in his messied hair and haphazardly placed clothes. Instead of the food delivery guy, it was Jason standing with his food box. Tim frowned.

“What do you want?”

“Pizza anyone?”

“Leave,” tim growled, taking the box. Jason laughed.

“Interrupting something?” Tim almost slammed the door in his face. “Hey, I just need keys to the Robin motorbike,” Jason added. “Oh I didn’t know you watched that show. Can you believe that in last week’s episode, it was the mom all along. Wild hu?”

Tim sighed before throwing the keys at Jason. “Go away.” He slammed the door.

“Well that sucks,” you said across the room.

Tim locked the door and sat the pizza box on the table. “I’m gonna be honest, and that is that I really just want to finish what we started before pizza. I’m not picky where.”

You laughed before letting him grab you fireman style over his shoulder to drag you into the bedroom. There was no way you were answering the door after that.

#Tim drake x reader #friday night smut #red robin x reader #Tim drake smut #Red Robin smut #dc smut

[fanatic-writers]

Loki Drabble

A/n: Just a little thought I had while watching the new episode of Loki. Requests are open!

Word Count: 844

Pairing: Loki x TVA!Reader

Summary: The three times Loki sees you in the past and the one time he finally catches up to the present

Warnings: Unedited, Season 2 spoilers ish

You were at your desk in the TVA when you heard the commotion of your coworkers gawking at someone in front of you. “Y/n,” a strange man gasped as his hands came to cup your cheeks “gods darling you have to help me.” Your brow furrowed in confusion as you moved out of the man’s grasp. “You have five seconds to explain why you’re grabbing my face and calling me darling before I prune you.” You huffed in response, hand already searching for your weapon. “Darling, it’s me. It’s Loki.” He raised his hands in surrender as you shoved your time stick in his face. “Loki!? You mean the variant I’m supposed to be hunting down Loki?” You raise a brow, charging up the weapon and preparing to use it. Loki looked hurt, defeated even, as he seemed to melt into despair “You-you don’t remember me?” He frowned “I remember it's my job to get you off the timeline so the world doesn’t end.” You spoke as you lunged towards him. Loki was quicker though, sprinting through the hallways as you called for backup. You turned around a corner after him and heard a sort of yelp before you watched him seemingly get ripped from the universe. “What the hell was that?” You frowned as you looked to the men around you who just shrugged in response.

He had been moving through the TVA for a while now, through time more than space it seemed. He felt his body being ripped apart and pulled back together, he kept his eyes closed for a moment before he registered a scream that sounded oh so familiar. “Y/n?” He started hands already up as he approached you apprehensively. He’d had his fair share of run-ins with the past yous now and he just wanted you to recognize him. Maybe this was the actual war that He Who Remained had promised him. A war inside himself every time he saw you and you didn’t recognize him one bit. Didn’t remember the fight you’d put up for Mobius to keep him around, didn’t remember the adventures you’d been on with him. “Please don’t hurt me.” You mumbled and it was then that Loki realized that this you was different from the others. You were younger, the emotions you usually kept steeled away were present on your face, the main one being fear. He took a cautious step toward you “I could never hurt you.” He mumbled, looking into your confused eyes. He opened his mouth to speak again but before he could he was being ripped away once more, his hand reaching out to you as if you could save him.

“Where the hell do you think you’ve been?” Your voice echoed down the hallway as you marched up to Loki, looking decidedly pissed. “Darling-“ He started but you stopped him before he could get to far. “I stuck my neck out for you and then you escape?” You huffed, arms crossed over your chest. “I should’ve just let Mobius kill you after your little movie but no, I felt bad, and this is what it gets me.” You paused for a moment in your rant “And stop calling me darling, it isn’t going to win you any brownie points.” It must’ve been his first day he realized a little too late as you began to slip cuffs over his wrists and drag him back to the room he was held in. “You’ve got the wrong guy.” He tried to explain but even he didn’t know if he would be able to talk his way out of this one. “Oh, so there’s some other you running around wearing the exact same clothes doing the exact same thing as you?” You raised a brow as you shoved him into the room. “Honestly, for the god of lies, I thought you’d be better at the whole talking your way out of things. I mean seriously ‘you’ve got the wrong guy,’ I’m not a child Loki.” You mocked his voice as best you could and he couldn’t help the small smirk that came to his lips, remembering the other times you’d done it in far less serious matters. “Stop looking at me like that.” “Like wha-“ “Loki?! LOKI! What the hell!?” You looked down at the cuffs that had fallen to the floor and sent a message to Mobius that Loki was still at large.

You were walking out of the war room the next time he spotted you “Y/n, I don’t have time to explain but you know me and I need your help.” “I know I know you?” You looked at him confused “I’m more concerned about the whole appearing in front of me as a stringy flesh monster.” Loki breathed a sigh of relief and wrapped his arms around you “I love you darling, please don’t forget me again.” He paused for a moment pulling away to look at you “Stringy flesh monster?” “I’d say that’s a good way of putting it.” Mobius piped up from behind you.

#loki fic #loki x reader #loki season 2 #loki x you #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #tva loki

[moonstruckme]

And then I have one but idk which marauder to make it for so I’ll let you pick whoever you think it fits better. I have to take medicine for my OCD and anxiety but it’s embarrassing. So I’m like imagining who you pick staying the night with the reader and her skipping her medicine because she’s embarrassed but being off medicine messes you up. So clearly the reader would be alittle down and out of it so her friend asks her if she’s okay and if she took her medicine. Welllllll the marauder hears that and later that night when they are getting ready for bed he simply hands her a glass and asks her to take her medicine please and mentions how he wants all of her that includes the quirks, need for medicine, and need for comfort sometimes too.

I decided to make this part of the Sirius x Remus' roommate saga, hope that's alright! Thanks for requesting sweetheart <3

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

cw: some symptoms of withdrawal, reader takes prescription meds

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Apparently, even when Sirius gets you out of your flat for the weekend, Remus is still always in the middle of things. 

“I can’t believe you got him to watch New Girl,” Remus complains over speakerphone as you make yourself a cup of tea. Sirius had offered to do it for you, but you’d brushed him off, and he’d been too busy secretly delighting in how comfortable you are in his flat to argue further. “James and I have been trying to get him to watch the first episode for years.” 

“Mmm, you’ve got to start on season three to get people interested, then go back,” you tell him wisely. “I showed him my favorite episode, the one with…uh…”

You trail off, and Sirius looks at you over the top of the couch. There’s a dissatisfied pinch between your brows.

“The one with the spider?” Remus prompts knowingly. 

“Right.” You blink a couple of times, refocusing on your mug as you pour hot water in over the teabag. “That one.” 

“Well, the apartment is quiet without you, but I’m glad you’re having fun.” 

Sirius’ mouth curls as he waits for your response. Though he sometimes still gets jealous of the easy intimacy between you as roommates, he’s come to enjoy the entertainment value of your banter with Remus. The apartment’s just as quiet with me, you’ll say, or You don’t even want to know what kind of fun we’re having. 

But your gaze has gone distant, and after a few seconds, the reply doesn’t seem like it’s going to come. 

Sirius feels worry snake around his ribcage, a light but noticeable pressure. A few hours ago, you’d complained of a headache, and ever since then you’ve seemed in an odd headspace. You’re quieter than you’ve ever been around him, you claimed not to feel like lunch, and he’s caught you stumbling or losing track of your thoughts on more than a couple occaisions. He’d asked once if you’d wanted to go home, but you’d promised you were fine and Sirius didn’t want to push the issue. He loves having you here, he really does, but he hopes it’s nothing about being in his home that’s making you seem so…off. He’d compromised by suggesting you show him that show you’re always referencing (Remus and James were right, it actually is pretty good) in the hopes that a few hours of relaxation would help restore you to yourself, but you don’t seem to be feeling better. 

Even over the phone, Remus picks up on it too. “You alright?” 

“Mm?” You blink. “Oh, yeah.” There’s a forced cheer to your voice, and Sirius watches as you roll your shoulders as if bracing yourself. “I’m just a little tired, I guess.” 

Remus hums, the sound crackling through the speaker. “Did you take your medicine last night?” 

You take him off speaker. Sirius turns when your eyes dart towards where he’s sitting on the couch, taking the coward’s way out on instinct and pretending he wasn’t paying attention. 

“I’m fine,” you say quietly into the phone. Sirius can’t hear Remus well enough anymore to make out his response, but he recognizes the slow, coaxing inflection of his friend’s voice. Your own tone sharpens in contrast, though you sound heartbreakingly exhausted. “I’ve got it. Yep, thanks. See you tomorrow.” 

You blow on your tea as you join Sirius on the couch, not a trace of apprehension about you. He extends his arm invitingly, and you slot underneath it like it’s home. 

“I gather you two aren’t used to time apart,” he teases, trying to entice a smile from you. 

It works, albeit only slightly. The curve of your lips is minute, but he’ll take it. “We’re both homebodies,” you say simply. “We’ve grown too used to being around each other.” 

“His privilege and your curse,” Sirius laments, exaggerating his grunt when you elbow him in the ribs. “Fine, you’re both very lucky. I’m just glad I managed to snag you for one weekend.” When he aims a saccharine smile your way, he suspects you set your cheek on his shoulder as a ploy to hide your blush. It melts him regardless, like ice cream in the summertime. “Want to watch another episode, lovely girl?” 

He frowns when all that gets out of you is a hum, rubbing your bicep as he presses play. 

He manages to get some dinner into you by insisting you try takeaway from his favorite Thai place in the neighborhood, and you seem amenable to the idea of an early night, all but drooping over the sink as you brush your teeth. 

Sirius will never admit it, but his heart is pounding as he takes a glass down from above the kitchen sink, filling it with water. He hopes this isn’t a massive overreach. This thing between you is still relatively new, and the last thing he wants is to make your first stay at his place awkward for either of you, but he cares about you. From what Sirius can tell, you’ve withdrawn into what seems like an unhappy place inside your head, and he can’t just leave you there by yourself. 

He catches you just as you’re leaving the bathroom, passing you the glass of water as casually as he can, as if it's the most routine thing in the world, before taking your place at the sink. “Don’t forget your medicine,” he says softly, taking his toothbrush from beside yours in the cup.

For a moment, you’re quiet. Sirius squirts toothpaste onto his brush, trying his damndest not to look for your reaction in the mirror. 

“You heard Remus on the phone.” It’s almost a whisper. Nowhere close to a question.

“I didn’t mean to,” Sirius apologizes, glancing up at your reflection. You’re looking distant again, your gaze fixed somewhere to the left of his face. “I’m sorry if I heard something you didn’t want me to, but it’s…did you forget?” 

You take another long moment to reply. Sirius is careful to stay quiet, giving you space as you chew your lip, but when your eyes meet his in the mirror you look so crestfallen his heart nearly stops. “I didn’t forget,” you admit. “It’s just so embarrassing, I didn’t want you to know.” 

He can’t stay still anymore. His toothpaste drops with a wet smack into the bowl of the sink when he sets his toothbrush on the rim, and he’s got your hands in his in a second. “Sweetheart, what do you mean?” He keeps ahold of one of your hands, letting his other one coast up your arm to your shoulder, where his thumb massages your collarbone familiarly. “It’s not embarrassing. It’s just, it’s something you need to be yourself. Like…my sparkly doc martens, you know? Or Remus’ chocolate hoards.” 

Your laugh is brief, more a huffed exhale than anything, but Sirius grins at you nonetheless. His hand moves up to cup the back of your neck, thumb soothing over the edge of your jaw. 

“You know what I really like about you?” he asks. You don’t look inclined to answer, but your left brow flicks up as if to say Go on. “Everything.” 

You scoff, seeming lighter even as you pull away from grasp. “Shut up.” 

“No, really,” he insists, vying for your hand back. “Getting to know you, it’s been amazing. Every new thing I learn is just something more to like.” You finally stop fighting him, eyes wary as he grips you by the shoulders, keeping you in place. “I want to learn everything there is to know about you, whenever you’ll let me. And I know I can’t expect it all at once,” he says, voice dropping into a more sincere register, “but I want all of it, including the parts you think—wrongly, I might add—are embarrassing.” He gives your upper arms a light squeeze. “Got that, pretty girl?”

A light blush colors your cheeks, and Sirius grins. You’re getting harder to fluster these days, but he delights in making it happen whenever he can. “Okay,” you say, still a tad sheepish for his liking. He plants a kiss on your cheek. 

“Good. Now go get your meds. I don’t want you passing out during breakfast tomorrow because of withdrawal.” 

“That’s not how it works,” you snipe, but he hears the rattle of pills as you dig through your overnight bag. 

“Whatever,” he says breezily, picking up his toothbrush to put a new dollop of paste onto it. “I just can’t reckon with the idea that Remus still knows things about you I don’t. Shouldn’t I outrank him by now?” 

“You’ve had roommates,” you tell him, coming back into the bathroom with the glass of water half empty. “You’re really going to tell me that they don’t know more about you than I do right now?”

Sirius makes a noncommittal, muffled sound, pointing to his toothpaste-filled mouth as excuse not to answer. 

“Right,” you say drily. “Maybe we should call your pal Remus and see if he happens to recall.” 

Sirius has never spit so fast in his life. 

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #roommate!remus #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #sirius black fluff #sirius black angst #sirius black hurt/comfort #sirius black imagine #sirius black drabble #sirius black oneshot #sirius black scenario #sirius black series #the marauders #remus lupin #marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfic #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #the marauders era #marauders fandom #hp marauders

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (7/?)

Part summary: Six weeks later, Leigh decides to throw herself a birthday party.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6.600+ | Warnings : None | Author's Note: Just a reminder that this doesn't strictly follow canon events. Borrowed some elements from the actual birthday episode, but it's going to go very differently for us :) Enjoy!

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI

-

Six weeks later

“Hey! Happy birthday, sweetheart!” Leigh’s mom calls out from the kitchen as Leigh hurries down the stairs. She runs straight into Amy’s arms, a ball of energy, drawing bewildered looks from her mom and sister. Ever since Matt died, they are used to Leigh either being too quiet or too snarky. Today, of all days, they were expecting her to be something else much worse. But it seems they're mistaken as Leigh turns to Jules, yanks her in close, and kisses her hair.

Jules and Amy share a look. To say this as an interesting development would be an understatement. It's her birthday—her first one without Matt, who had been at the heart of her celebrations for the last decade. They hope Leigh finds some happiness, truly, but these past several months have taught them to temper their expectations.

They keep their silent exchange to themselves, watching as Leigh picks up a croissant and takes a heart bite out of it, her face lit up with the widest smile. “Happy birthday,” Jules grins, pushing a small envelope towards Leigh. “Got something for you.”

“Thank you!” Leigh exclaims. She eagerly opens the envelope to find a bunch of homemade coupons, each promising some sort of favor from Jules, good for the next year. They range from “Will listen to your rants for 30 minutes, no interruptions” to “I will restart the book club you tried to get me and mom to do and actually read the books this time.”

Laughing, Leigh flips through them. “These are brilliant, Jules. Might have to use one today,” she says, already thinking about which one she'll cash in first. Then, she pulls Jules in a bear hug, as if it’s the most exquisite present she’s ever gotten in her lifetime. 

“You okay?” Leigh asks when she notices Amy staring at her.

Jules gives their mom a warning look as Amy struggles to come up with a response. “Nothing, I just… I didn’t think you’d be doing quite so well today. That’s all.”

“I didn’t either but we all make choices and I’m choosing to have a great birthday. So, let’s do this thing!” Leigh says in a manner that Jules feels too over the top. Amy starts laying out the plans for the evening and Leigh has a blank look by the time she finishes running them through it.

“I think I want a party,” Leigh announces. It’s met with astonishment, as if it’s the last thing her family’s expecting to hear.

“You do?” Amy.

“A party?” Jules.

Leigh isn’t perturbed by their reactions. “I do. I want a party,” she confirms. She delights at the dumb look on their faces as she reiterates, “Tonight. I want a big party.”

-

“You’re not having a big party.”

Danny calls her up the minute he gets her Facebook invite. He's partly furious about receiving the invite through Facebook, given that they’re “kind of seeing each other”, and partly incredulous because he couldn’t believe she’s making plans on her birthday without considering the fact that they are “kind of seeing each other”.

Leigh, phone wedged between her shoulder and ear as she flips through a recipe book on her kitchen counter, rolls her eyes so hard she worries they might stick that way. 

“Well, yes, Danny, that's exactly what I'm doing,” she fires back matter-of-factly.

Danny's frustration simmers on the other end of the line. He had already made plans, not bothering to consult Leigh because he assumed that their day would be spent together—privately, just the two of them.

“You didn’t think I’d have something planned?” he asks, more hurt than angry.

“Why would I think that?”

“Because we’re dating, Leigh,” he says, appalled that he needs to remind her. Leigh takes a second, biting her lip. Maybe it was a bit inconsiderate that she didn’t consider Danny when she impulsively decided she wanted a big celebration. But that flicker of guilt is short lived. 

After all, she couldn’t remember the last time she’s actually excited for something, the last time she thought, I deserve to be happy. 

“Yeah, well, I can still do what I want, Danny,” she retorts.

“Now you’re acting like a child,” he snaps.

Leigh feels a flash of anger, then something else—determination. “Maybe so. Come to the party or not, I don’t care. I'm going to have fun, Danny, with or without you.”

“Fine. Just don’t—”

Leigh doesn’t let him finish. With a press of a button, the call ends, his words cut off mid-sentence. Too often, she’s been criticized for not always following through with her declarations, but it's a different game when she's out to prove something.

-

Drew steps carefully around a minefield of clothes and makeup scattered on the floor to get to Leigh. She's curled up over her laptop, one leg propped on the chair, chin on her knee, in a posture that makes Drew wince. “For a fitness instructor, you're not exactly a poster child for back health,” he says, announcing himself to his best friend.

Leigh's head snaps up at Drew's voice, but instead of annoyance, a smirk quickly spreads across her face. “Good thing I'm not a fitness instructor anymore, then,” she says. Then she turns her attention back to her laptop as if he’s not there. Drew moves to sit on the edge of her bed, flops down on it like a ragdoll and stares at the cobwebs on the corners of the ceiling. 

“I know what you’ve been doing, Leigh,” he says.

Leigh is unphased, keeps typing. Then, as if she’s just heard his remark, mutters a distracted, “What have I been doing?”

“Avoiding. You've been avoiding writing about anything that's even remotely related to love or grief,” Drew says.

This time, Leigh stops typing. She sighs, a long, drawn-out exhale that seems to carry the weight of the world. “I’m busy, Drew. This gig is eating up all my time.” 

After leaving the Beautiful Beast, she took on a part-time job as a remote project manager. With Matt gone, she's left to deal with the debts they racked up together. She loved her studio job, really did, and wasn't fazed by the slim paycheck because it helped her mom out. Being surrounded by family has been a huge support (despite her occasional squabbles with Jules), but she knows she'll need to move out on her own again at some point. Ultimately, the pressing need for financial stability has pushed her to seek out better-paying opportunities.

Drew straightens up, leaning in with his elbows on his knees. “Bullshit.”

Leigh looks over her shoulder at him with mild irritation. “What do you want me to say, Drew?”

“You're meeting your weekly quota on other topics,” he points out. “Makes me wonder if bringing you back to the advice column was…premature.”

It sounds like a threat, but coming from him, she understands it as an early warning in case the senior editor begins to notice the issue. Leigh smiles thinly, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Why does it even matter which topics I choose to engage with? First off, I'm collaborating with other writers now; it's not entirely my show anymore. Secondly, I've been doing a good job—”

“A great job, actually.”

Leigh tilts her head, genuinely puzzled. “So, what's the problem?”

“They're expecting you to lead on those topics because you've lived through them. They're looking for more authenticity in the pieces,” Drew explains. 

Leigh looks out the window, seemingly lost in thought, then shakes her head slightly. “What, you want me to write about how I started picking fights left and right after Matt died? Do you want me to detail my attempts at fixing his depression, as if it were as manageable as setting a broken bone?”

“You don’t have to delve into the most personal details.”

“It can’t be authentic if it’s not personal,” Leigh sneers. 

“Just think about it, okay?” Drew presses, a little desperately.

Leigh chews on the inside of her cheek, mulling it over. There's a whole part of her story she hasn't even touched on with him—the string of one-night stands with Danny, the way she's snapped at anyone who dared to disagree with her in the past few weeks. She's been on edge, not really liking the person she's been, and the thought of putting that version of herself out there for everyone to see is nothing short of humiliating. 

As a writer, she knows what to say, the same way a psychologist would know what to do even if they don’t need to have all sorts of human experience to help someone in every situation. But she also questions her right to preach behavior to others when she's far from having it all figured out herself. Regardless of her indecision, she knows Drew’s not going to drop it until she at least tells him she’ll consider.

“Fine,” she says, with a nod. “I'll sift through the inbox and tackle the ones I feel up to.”

“There you go, that's my girl,” Drew says, visibly relaxing. But then, a moment later, he feels a stab of guilt for showing up mostly because of work. It's been a while since they've hung out, their usual brunch dates falling through one after the other, and their daily chats have shriveled up to a few messages a week, with mostly just memes from Leigh that Drew hardly ever acknowledges. Eventually, Leigh just stopped sending them.

Drew fidgets, avoiding eye contact for a second before it dawns on him—he hasn't just been busy; he's been dodging Leigh on purpose ever since he popped the question to his partner. He was worried Leigh wouldn’t take the news well, considering the things she’s been going through. But if he’s being brutally honest with himself, a part of him just didn't want her grief to dampen his excitement. He was worried her sadness might dampen his spirits, and in a bid to preserve his own happiness, he’d left her out in the cold. He hadn't stopped to think that maybe he owed Leigh more than just her column.

“So, uh, how’s it going?” Drew asks cautiously.

“It’s going,” Leigh offers. Heartfelt talks aren't their thing, so Leigh decides to brush it off fast. “By the way, I'm throwing a birthday party for myself.” It comes out a bit more cheerfully than she feels.

“A party? That's great, Leigh!” Drew exclaims. “And hey, if you need help setting up or anything, just let me know.”

“Yeah,” she forces a smile, not as enthusiastic as she was about the idea at breakfast. “It's tonight, though. You're coming, right? And bring anyone fun you know.”

“Wow, OK,” Drew nods before his face morphs into a grin, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, is this where you're planning to hard launch your new relationship? At your party?”

Leigh’s eyes sharpen into slits. “You know about Danny?”

“Jules told me,” he says.

Rolling her eyes, Leigh retorts, “Let me guess, she told you so you'd join the haters club?”

“Nah,” Drew shrugs, his smile bright and sunny. “Danny's okay, I guess. If you're happy, I'm happy.”

She hasn’t been not happy lately. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, but it sure beats being on her own. So maybe she is—or at least, on her way.

“Thanks, Drew,” she murmurs thoughtfully.

Drew makes himself comfy, chin in hand, looking like he's all set for one of their marathon catch-ups. "So, how did you and Danny even start? Tell me everything."

-

Leigh's trunk is a one-can band, banging and clanging with every turn. Her groceries create a beat, something to fill in the lack of sound in her car. It’s how she drives these days—in utter silence. Before, she wouldn't even think of heading out without the perfect playlist, which often took her an extra five to fifteen minutes after settling into the driver's seat. But these days, as soon as the key is in the ignition, she twists it and takes off, not even waiting for the car to warm up.

Organizing a party by herself (with Jules' indispensable assistance, of course) and extending invites to her entire Facebook friends list has turned into quite the ruse. She's seasoned enough to temper her expectations—knowing well that not everyone who RSVP'd “yes” will show, and that some who didn't bother to RSVP might just surprise her by showing up. So, she's stocked up on as much food as her sedan can hold.

While Leigh's mind wanders to what snacks to whip up and what sauces to pair them with, she accidentally ends up on a lane that forces a left turn instead of going straight. This little misstep means she's got to take the scenic route home, which, by pure coincidence, takes her right past your clinic's street.

Her heartbeat quickens, though it shouldn't. There's no reason for it. She hasn't seen you in a month, not since the night she made a bold declaration on her bedroom door.

Leigh never planned on actually liking you as a person. Initially, her motive was purely to get a closer look, to dissect what it was about you that caught Matt's eye, what you possessed that she lacked. However, the answer to that mystery didn't remain elusive for long after spending a little time with you. You had this kindness about you, soft and easy, something Leigh’s always found just out of her reach. She prides herself on being decent enough but next to you, she feels a bit more like sandpaper to your silk.

Matt was like that too—gentle, easygoing. Leigh is well aware of her own rough edges, her sharp corners that don't quite align with Matt's smoother ones—and, by extension, yours. You and Matt had more in common than just interests; you both saw and reacted to the world in similar ways. Finding out that you and Matt were alike in important ways, in ways she wasn't, is something she's still learning to cope with.

As she nears your clinic, her eyes instinctively search it out, a habit she can't seem to break. 

This time, her timing is impeccable; just as she glides by, you step outside with a puppy in your arms, licking your face all over. You catch sight of her car from a distance, and you couldn’t stop the surprise that flashes across your face. As she drives past, you give her a little wave, puppy still in tow. Leigh cracks a small smile, then throws on her aviators, maybe trying to hide a bit more than her eyes. She sneaks one last look in the rearview, catching you watching her car disappear down the street before you head back into the clinic.

-

As soon as she gets home and is safely out of the car, she opens her messages.

The last text you sent her says, “I'm sorry. I hope we can still be friends,” sent three days after the encounter in her bedroom. She didn't respond to it, and you didn't push any further or impose yourself on her.

She wishes she had at least reacted with a heart or sent a smiley face to your message. Maybe then, inviting you to her party tonight wouldn’t feel so awkward. Nevertheless, she manages to type out a quick invite and extends to you the courtesy of bringing a plus one, someone you believe would be good company.

Your response arrives within five seconds of her hitting send.

“Thank you, I'll be sure to drop by :)” - Y/N

Satisfied, Leigh sets her phone aside. Now, she can focus on making those Deviled eggs.

-

The dress she's pulled from Jules's closet is a bold choice: deep black with a plunging neckline and a hem that flirts with daring. It's sexy, but not quite Leigh's usual style—and that's exactly why she loves it. It clings to her in all the right places, promising a confidence that Leigh isn't entirely sure she feels. Her hair, which is normally pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, hangs loose and wavy. She tops off her outfit with a slick of red lipstick and layers of dark eyeliner. 

With about an hour to spare before her guests are due to arrive, Leigh decides it's the perfect time to follow through on a promise she made to Drew. She logs into the shared inbox of the advice column she co-manages with two other writers at Basically News. Leigh scrolls through the submissions, Drew’s words playing on repeat in her head. He had a point. Maybe people don't always need the right answers—answers she hardly uses herself. Perhaps what they really need is someone to affirm what they're already feeling, to say it's okay to follow their gut, to be themselves.

She reads an interesting entry from one EspressoEyes:

“Do you think it's too much for me to give a puppy to this woman I like? I'm not even sure she likes me back (or like me in general 😣), but it's her birthday, and I feel like a puppy could be exactly what she needs at this moment.”

Leigh reads the message, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. Personally, she muses, she'd welcome a puppy from just about anyone. But that's just her, especially with the rollercoaster of a year she's had—she's at a point where the gesture, no matter who it comes from, would be a welcome slice of joy.

Thinking it over, she starts replying, “A puppy is a big gesture—it can be an overwhelming gift for some. It might even be seen as too forward, especially in certain relationships.Yet, a gift is a gift. Sometimes, you need to just go for it, without apologies. If her feelings don't align, she'll let you know. She has to, because giving a puppy is essentially a love declaration, in case you hadn't realized. And who knows? She might feel the same about you. Just make sure she's actually up for the responsibility of a pet. They're for life, not just for birthdays.”

She signs off with her pen name—Gigi Herrel—a clever anagram of her name as it would have been had she taken Matt's last name in marriage: Leigh Greer. Though it never quite felt like her own. She only used it when she came back to Basically News in obeisance to his passing. Drew has granted her the autonomy to publish her responses without his oversight (“Just make sure your grammar is perfect,” he said), so Leigh doesn’t think twice before publishing her response.

Leigh moves on to browse through other submissions, this time, on those related to marriage and loss—the very subjects she promised Drew she would tackle. She’s been in those shoes, still feels like she's wearing them. With a deep breath, she clicks on one and dives right into it. Her first attempt at a response feels inadequate, prompting her to hit delete and start anew. This process repeats itself, one draft after another, until she has five versions sitting in front of her, none of which feel right. With a huff, she deletes them all.

Just then the doorbell rings, pulling her out of her advice-column vortex. Leigh glances around, momentarily disoriented. It takes her a moment to recall that there's a party happening downstairs, and she's meant to be enjoying herself.

-

She’s halfway down the stairs when Jules's eyes land on her. Leigh freezes, as if she’s been caught red-handed. “I…couldn’t find the coupon for borrowing your clothes.”

Jules just smirks and arches an eyebrow, taking in Leigh in her dress. “Oh please, as if I ever keep track. Besides, that was just gathering dust after my ‘slutty Halloween phase’ as you so lovingly called it.”

“Cool! Perfect!” Leigh says, ignoring the backhanded comment. Her focus immediately turns to the front door as another guest arrives. “Hey, Dad!” she calls out.

Leigh’s dad walks in with his partner, and she greets them with a warmth that's been rare these days. He hands her a large, beautifully wrapped box. Leigh grasps the gift with both hands, shaking it gently, much like a child on Christmas morning. She’s thanking them when an old friend from high school she hasn’t seen in forever walks through the door, a bottle of wine in hand. Her mom swoops in like a hawk, reminding everyone it's a dry party in support of Jules's sobriety, and the wine is swiftly traded for a mocktail.

For the next hour, the house fills up. Leigh finds herself out back, tending to snacks, when a small line of people forms to chat with her. They each ask if she’s doing okay, their condolences tucked neatly between cheerful birthday wishes. Leigh’s smiling, but it's so fake even she is not buying it, mentally blacklisting half of these people for next time.

Just when the parade of condolence callers is beginning to fray her patience, one of her actual favorite humans finally shows up, saving her mood from souring completely. Drew looks striking in a simple black polo shirt, so much so that it reminds Leigh of the time Matt got all jealous over him, until Leigh let him in on the secret that he plays for the other team.

He passes her a little envelope, his birthday offering—a gift card. Leigh’s barely expressed her thanks over the simple present when he jumps right into feedback on her latest advice column. 

“Read your puppy counsel on my way here. It felt a bit... casual, don’t you think?”

Leigh smirks up at him, arms crossed, the gift card crinkling between her forearms. “Just say it's terrible advice if that's what you mean.”

Drew purses his lips before relenting. “Fine. It was terrible advice.”

“Expect more of that if I tackle the stuff I’ve been avoiding. Still think it’s a good idea?” Leigh says, nodding like it’s exactly what she wants to hear. Drew lets out a sigh, swiftly steering the conversation away before their playful banter escalates into a disagreement. With Leigh, he knows all too well that the edge of an argument is always closer than it seems.

“Anyway, happy birthday, again,” he says, trying to lighten the mood again. “Ryan's tied up with work stuff, totally wiped, but he did wish you a happy birthday.”

Leigh’s face hardens slightly at the mention of Ryan. She’s been harboring this nagging thought that Ryan dislikes her, a suspicion fueled by a criticism she once shared with Drew in confidence, suspecting Drew might have passed it along. Drew, seeing her expression change, doesn’t rush to correct her assumption.

“He hates me,” Leigh concludes before Drew can even get a word out.

“He doesn’t—”

“What I don’t understand is why you couldn’t have kept it between us?” she demands, feeling betrayed.

“Because Ryan’s my person. I tell him everything. That’s how being in a marriage works,” he says, but the moment he sees Leigh's face fall, he wishes he could retract those words.

Leigh bristles, her voice rising, “I know how being married works!”

She's livid, because that should go without saying. How dare he imply that she no longer knows, now that she's only half of a whole—her best friend, of all people.

Drew exhales coolly, as if trying to douse the proverbial fire between them. “Why does it seem like we're always either fighting or about to fight?” he wonders aloud.

Leigh’s anger softens into something more reflective, and she sighs, the fight draining out of her. “I don’t mean to...” She trails off, searching for the right words. “It’s like I’m always ready for a battle. I don’t know why. It’s like I’m expecting it, waiting for it, at the end of every day.”

Drew lets the moment breathe, waiting for both of them to deflate completely before tacitly reaching out behind Leigh for a snack. “These are great, by the way,” he says between bites, acting like they hadn’t just been at each other's throats.

Leigh tries to match Drew’s candidness, but inside, she’s reeling. It bothers her, this pattern they’ve fallen into—her temper flaring up, followed by a quick brush-off, as if these outbursts are merely now a part of who she is. She hates that she’s become predictable in her volatility, that her explosions are met with a shrug and a wait-out-the-clock mentality from those around her. She’s tired of it, tired of being seen as a ticking time bomb, her anger and hurt dismissed as just Leigh being Leigh, waiting for the reset button to be hit so the countdown can start all over again.

But it's her birthday, and she's brought these people together on a Tuesday night for fun. She didn't gather everyone just to tell them, once and for all, that they need to stop acting as if her husband just died.

So, she goes with the flow, laughing when it's her cue, even though deep down, she feels more alone in the crowd than ever.

-

With the absence of alcohol, the party winds down by 11 PM. Guests begin trickling out as early as 10, and by the time Leigh is bidding farewell to the last attendee, she's already donned an apron, ready to take on the mountain of dishes left behind.

Which is to say, showing up right now pretty much means you've missed the whole party.

Pulling up in front of Leigh's house, the night already deep into its quiet hours, you’re running on the adrenaline of the day's emergencies. Two cases back-to-back at the clinic, one of them diving straight into surgery, left you no choice but to push everything else to the side. Suzie, who was meant to join you as your plus one, ends up stuck back at work, tending to a recovering St. Bernard, so it's just you and the sleeping puppy on your lap now. For her sacrifice, you promise to take her out to a nice lunch one of these days.

The puppy starts wagging its tail in its sleep, and you look down with a smile at the little dreamer. The decision to give Leigh the puppy wasn't made lightly. You've been turning the idea in your mind for a while now. Initially, you didn't even realize her birthday was coming up, and the invitation to her party caught you off guard, especially considering the somewhat unresolved way things were left between you two weeks ago. The timing of her birthday, your rocky history, it all made you second-guess whether a puppy was a good idea. In search of a voice outside your own head, you turned to a favorite advice column you often read in your spare time. To your surprise, your submission was picked up by one of the columnists, and the response you got wasn't just advice; it was the push you needed. You were lucky to be able to catch their answer, just before you got home to change for Leigh’s birthday party.

Trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach, you give yourself a quick once-over in the rearview mirror and apply a fresh swipe of nude-colored lipstick. With one last look, you carefully step out of the car, the sleeping puppy nestled securely in your arms. The moment you move, it stirs, burrowing deeper into your armpit, seeking refuge from the light of the street lamps.

Everything's too quiet as you walk up to Leigh's house. You anticipated some noise, music or chatter—anything to indicate the party was in full swing. But there are none. Could you have missed the party? Or worse, did Leigh get the date wrong on her invite? Hesitantly, you press the doorbell, instantly regretting it, thinking you might be waking up the whole house.

Just as you're about to bail, the door swings open and it's Jules.

“Y/N!” Jules nearly trips over herself getting to you, eyes wide when she spots the furball you’re holding. 

“Hi Jules,” you mutter sheepishly.

“Is that a…” she squeaks out, already reaching for a cuddle before you've even nodded. Jules is all over the puppy, who seems just as happy to be the center of attention. After a while, she looks up, a bit more composed but still glowing. 

“I didn’t know Leigh invited you. Too bad, you just missed the party. But you should definitely come in and say hi to Leigh,” she says. You want nothing more than to see Leigh again, even if only for a brief moment, just to accomplish what you came here for and perhaps wish her a happy birthday. But with the party over and you potentially being the only guest, it feels like walking into a situation you don’t think you’re prepared enough for.

Then, as the puppy licks Jules' face off, she pauses and looks at you funny. It clicks for her—no collar, no leash, just you and this puppy who appear no more than two months old.

“Oh my gosh, is this for Leigh?” Jules gasps.

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I-If she wants him.”

Jules looks at you, then at the puppy, her smile blinding. “Well, I want him. But if she doesn’t, I’ll be more than happy to be his mommy.”

You laugh at her enthusiasm. Still feeling skittish, you ask, “Do you think it’s an appropriate gift for Leigh?”

“You're a vet. It's kind of on-brand for you,” Jules quips.

You laugh again. “Really?” you ask, kind of hoping for a more solid reassurance.

Jules considers it for a second, before saying, “I can at least assure you it’s not unwanted.”

Good enough, you think. Jules hands you back the puppy and then says, “She’s in the kitchen. Look, she’s not exactly in a good mood, but I think you should go for it anyway.”

That’s two people egging you to go ahead with your surprise. It must be a sign from the universe. You make up your mind for the final time. “Thanks, Jules,” you say.

“Anytime.”

-

You tread lightly, making sure your footsteps don’t give you away as you approach the kitchen. Leigh is at the sink, doing the dishes, clad in a black dress that skims her thighs, her feet bare against the cool kitchen tiles. Her shoulders are slumped, her movements laconic, as if her body is there, but her mind is miles elsewhere. The expanse of skin revealed by her hair tied up in a high ponytail captivates you, holding you back from announcing your presence. You allow yourself a moment to take her in, thinking this might be the only chance you get to really look at her like this. 

You’re about to say “Hi”, when Leigh whirls around, startling you both. Leigh, not expecting anyone to be there, loses her grip on the plate she's holding, and it smashes loudly against the floor. 

“Jesus!” Leigh’s scream summons Jules and her mom into the kitchen. Meanwhile, you are trying to do damage control—holding the puppy with one hand and attempting to gather the ceramic shards with the other as Leigh continues to stare at you in shock.

Amy, wrapped in her robe, looks from the mess on the floor to you and then to Leigh. “What’s going on here?”

Jules is unfazed, simply watches the entire scene from a corner of the room, smirking. 

Your cheeks flush with shame, and you find yourself grateful to be still seated on the floor, your back turned away from Leigh's family.

“I’m so—” you start, but Leigh cuts you off.

“Okay, everyone just...calm down," Leigh says. She kneels down beside you, her hands joining yours in cleaning up the broken pieces.

“I'm heading to bed,” Jules says and then winks at you. “Happy to see you, Y/N!”

Amy wraps her robe more snugly around herself, then with a small, puzzled shake of her head, says, “Well, good night everyone. And happy birthday again, sweetheart,” before she walks down the hall and out of sight. Leigh gets to her feet, a slight nod of appreciation directed your way as she holds open a trash bag for you to deposit the ceramic shards. That’s when the puppy finally catches her attention. 

“And who's this little guy?” she asks, a smile starting to play at the corners of her mouth.

You clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. He’s yours if you want him. Don’t worry about refusing, there’s someone lined up to take him in case you’re not—”

But Leigh’s already gently taking the puppy from your arms, instantly cradling and bouncing him as though he’s a tiny human baby. It’s a sight both funny and utterly endearing, and you can’t help but let out a soft chuckle, feeling your heart grow a size or two.

“Who wouldn't want him? He's perfect,” Leigh says, her eyes not leaving him as he nestles comfortably in her arms. Hearing those words, you feel a wave of relief wash over you. She doesn't find it odd; she's already falling for him.

“Happy birthday,” you tell her, and when she looks at you, her smile is so bright it could light up the whole night. Right there is everything you hoped for. All you really wanted was to see her happy.

“Thank you so much,” she murmurs, clutching the puppy tighter to her chest. Then, cocking her head to the side, she inquires, “What's his name?”

The grin on your lips can’t be helped, and you’re hoping she wouldn’t see just how much she’s having an effect on you. “I haven’t named him yet. He was always meant to be yours, Leigh,” you say.

Her smile just gets bigger as she gazes down at the little furball in her arms, and you think this is exactly how things were supposed to go down. It’s one of those rare moments where reality lines up perfectly with expectation. 

“I think I’ll call him Logan.”

-

You and Leigh retire to the living room after she kindly offers to make you decaf. As you settle onto opposite ends of the couch, tucking your feet under you, Logan instinctively takes shelter in Leigh's lap, as if he already knows he belongs there.

“So…Why Logan?” you ask, after making a mental note of how Leigh makes her coffee: one cream, two sugars.

“Well,” Leigh says, her fingers gently stroking Logan’s deep chocolate fur, “he just looks like a little wolverine, doesn’t he? With that color and those defiant little eyes.”

The dots connect in a funny, unexpected sort of way. Leigh and comic books don't seem like the most likely pair. 

“Ah, like the X-Men character. I didn’t know you were a comic book fan,” you say.

She laughs, a sound that’s light and free of any shadows. “Oh, I wasn’t. Not really. It was all Matt. He had this massive collection, and he was pretty obsessed. I guess some of it rubbed off on me after all.” The mention of Matt doesn’t bring clouds into her eyes like you expected. She talks about him like she’s looking at something distant but dear.

“Thought you were bailing on me tonight,” Leigh , almost casual but there’s this undercurrent, like she’s really saying she’s glad you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I got stuck at the clinic longer than expected.” Leaving her waiting, especially today, was never part of the plan. Your work as a vet often means unpredictable hours, but you hadn't expected it to stretch so far into the evening.

“It’s okay, you didn’t miss much.” 

Her casual dismissal makes you wonder, but not wanting to pry too much, you shift slightly, asking, “So, how did it go? Did you enjoy yourself at least?”

Leigh simply smiles and shrugs, an action that speaks volumes without giving much away. “This,” she nods down at Logan, “getting him from you, feels more like my birthday than anything else today.”

The conversation that follows is easy, skipping over the day-to-day stuff—nothing deep, but you're both there—really there—and it's nice. It feels like a fresh start, and you're deeply thankful for the second chance she's offering you. You promise yourself you won't mess it up this time. 

But just as you’re both delving into more personal topics, someone rings the doorbell. Logan perks up, his head tilted, ears alert. Leigh gives you a look, as if saying she's not expecting anyone else to show up this late at night. She puts the puppy down on the floor and when she opens the door, it’s Danny, looking sorry for himself. He’s holding a bouquet of roses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. It seems as though he has the whole evening planned out in his head—apologize, crack open the wine, and maybe be invited to Leigh’s bedroom afterwards.

Danny’s eyes find you and his face falls a bit. He wasn’t expecting company, certainly not you. “Leigh, can we talk?” he asks, then looks pointedly at you. “Alone?”

Leigh looks torn for a moment, glancing your way as if she's not ready to let you out of her sight. She insists it'll just be a minute, but you can read the room. This is something they need to sort out without you playing third wheel.

“It’s all good, I'll head out,” you tell her though you're staring Danny down, making sure he knows it’s not because of him that you’re leaving. Leigh either misses the whole glare-off or decides to stay out of it. Logan tries to follow you as you make for the door. It’s hard leaving him behind, but you know he’ll be happy to have found his forever home. You kneel down, giving Logan a soft kiss on the head, promising him you’ll be back soon. And then you turn to Leigh, a question at the tip of your tongue but she already knows what you’re going to ask. 

“You can see Logan anytime,” she says with a faint smile. “I might need your help with him sooner than you think.”

The moment you close the door behind you, Leigh's jaw sets in a firm line, bracing herself to confront Danny. Her main priority is to get Logan settled, so she decides that forgiving Danny might be the quickest way to send him on his way. But Danny’s focus now isn’t on apologies or making it up to her. He’s fixated on Logan, his brows knitting together in confusion and, curiously, a bit of annoyance. 

“Who gave you that?” he asks Leigh as if he’s just referring to an inanimate object lying around the house. He sounds like he's almost accusing her of something, and Leigh's baffled. 

“A friend gave him to me,” she says, nodding towards the door you've just walked out of. Danny's face twists up in an instant, like a storm cloud bursting. “A friend,” he repeats, and the way he says it, it’s clear he’s not just asking. He’s fuming with jealousy, and Leigh can’t wrap her head around why.

A gift is just a gift, right? Why would…

Oh.

Earlier, while she was reviewing submissions for the advice column, someone asked if giving a puppy as a birthday gift to someone they're interested in would be a good idea. She remembers how she happily encouraged them, telling them to go for it.

At this realization, Danny, the puppy, and everything else slide to the back burner. The only thing occupying her mind now is the deep, dark brown hue of your eyes, like rich espresso.

EspressoEyes. That's how the person behind the submission signed off. It's like a lightbulb moment, but softer—like waking up slow.

It's you.

Oh.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

[tofuhoon]

things that remind enhypen of you

genre: fluff

warnings: mentions of food

masterlist

whenever heeseung passes by the flower shop on the scenic route home, his first instinct is to walk in and buy the biggest bouquet known to man. he manages to hold himself back most of the time, but will still sometimes randomly show up with a bunch of roses big enough to cover his torso. and every time, without fail, your cheeks flush red and you flash a big smile at him. that alone is enough to make him take the long way home the next day.

jay, being the hopeless romantic he is, sees your face in the reflection of diamond rings. passing by the jewelry store on his way home from work doesn’t calm his thoughts of starting a whole new life with you. he’ll gaze into the window, face nearly pressed to the glass, daydreaming about a domestic life with you. for now, he’ll stick to a promise ring, but he knows one day that it will come to be the ring.

jake is reminded of you when he’s with layla. he’s a strong believer that nothing can make layla better – except you. when he ruffles her fur and runs around the park with her, he’s imagining you right next to him as he does it. even layla can sense something’s missing when he’s walking her alone. jake uses layla as an excuse to see you whenever he can. “she misses you!” he’ll wail over the call. not that she doesn’t want to see you, but even layla understands his true intentions.

sunghoon thinks of you while he eats. whether its the kind of food so unbelievably good it makes his eyes grow wide in disbelief, or the kind that he spits quietly into his napkin while no one’s looking, he knows that you being there to enjoy it with him would greatly improve his eating experience. he wants to share all the good food with you only. you get texts everyday of pictures of his delicious meals. “you’d really like this restaurant,” the text reads. “i’ll take you with me next time.”

sunoo sees you in the ridiculous couple items he sees in the store. “we should get these.” he says with a serious face as he points at the “i’m hers / he’s mine” shirts. you push him lightly as he bursts into a fit of laughter. he thinks of you whenever he sees cute matching phone cases and key chains, and he’ll buy them everytime. you’ve never complained about it (you actually think its quite cute) but someone would think you do by the way he tries so hard to justify his purchases. (“it was buy one get one free, i swear!” “sunoo i didn’t even say anything”)

jungwon finds a way to see you in everything he does. the members laugh anytime jungwon remembers a random episode connected to whatever topic it is they were discussing. he can’t help but think of you in everything he does. his memories are filled to the brim with you, and he is determined to fill it up even more. (jay hyu- but make it yn)

niki doesn’t think anyone notices when he takes his little pictures. his members only giggle fondly as they watch their youngest not-so-discreetly snap a couple of blurry pictures of the heart shaped cloud in the sky or the ramen noodle that spelled out your first initial. he always sends you the pictures, which you have saved in a special album. you thank him for his thoughtfulness, as he brushes it off. (“i should at least do this much. we are dating after all” “niki you’re so grown!” “shut up”)

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen reactions #enhypen reaction #enhypen au #heeseung x reader #jay x reader #jake x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #niki x reader #enhypen fics #enhypen smau

[ilovepedro]

let’s get outta here, baby | frankies morales x f!reader

Valentine’s masterlist | Main masterlist | Palestine

Please take some time to go through the Palestine links. If you enjoy my writing, I ask you to help Palestine in any way you can.

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~2.5k

Summary: Frankie whisks you away on Valentine’s Day for a romantic evening secluded by the water.

Warnings: established relationship, exhibitionism, oral (f!receiving), face riding, unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all), creampie, fluff, pet names (baby, hermosa, querida, amor) after care, reader has no description, no mention of hair type/body type/skin color, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: let’s try this again. happy frankie friday! oh how i missed my Frankie so much omg 😭 he and Javi are tied for my favorite Pedro boys tbh. i love love love him sm. anyway, i hope y’all enjoy!! as always, not beta’d - all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Translations: Te amo = I love you

Divider by @saradika-graphics

“Come on, baby. Get dressed, we have plans,” he said.

“Where are we going, Frankie? I just got comfy, plus I thought we were gonna stay in and watch a movie or a few episodes of our show?” You pout, already snuggled in on the couch, lounging in your leggings and one of Frankie’s hoodies.

“I know, but I thought we could do something else tonight. And what you’re wearing is actually perfect, just throw on some comfy shoes. I promise it’s nothing crazy. Now come on. Let’s get outta here, baby,” he says, car keys in hand as he extends a hand to you.

That was 2 hours ago, his left hand drumming on the steering wheel to the music that plays throughout the speaker, his right hand resting on your thigh, giving it an occasional squeeze.

After the two of you worked crazy hours the past week, work had finally given you a deserved day off, and it just so happened to be Valentine’s Day. Frankie opted to use his sick hours, giving you two the whole day to yourselves. You’d craved to sit at home and wait for your boyfriend to get home to enjoy a romantic evening at home with him.

Frankie had other plans it seems.

Your hand rests atop his, fiddling with his fingers as you hum along to the music. The road winds along the coast, the rind of clouds floating in the tangerine sky. reflecting off the water. Traffic was a bit heavy, but Frankie said it didn’t matter what time you two made it to the location, that it’d be open. 

Pulling up to a hill, Frankie drives upwards. Your brows furrow in confusion, head snapping to gaze at your boyfriend. He pulls his hand from your thigh as he maneuvers the car up the hill, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Where are you taking me, Francisco?” You playfully question him. 

“I told you, it’s a surprise, baby. You’ll see,” he says smugly. Jokingly scrutinizing him, you cross your arms and hum. 

Soon enough, he pulls the car to a stop and cuts the engine. He’s parked on a cliff overlooking the coast, the waves crashing in the background. Crickets chirping and a brisk breeze blows through the air. Frankie rushes out of the car and to the trunk.

“Don’t look back here yet, querida!” He shouts. He’d told you the same thing before you’d left, covering your eyes as he helped you in the truck and blocking off the backseat with some blankets. You hear Frankie grunting and shuffling around the trunk, smiling softly to yourself at the thought of him all flustered. 

“Need any help, baby?” You yell over the commotion. You’re met with a few more grunts and can feel Frankie crawling in the trunk.

What the hell is he doing?

Popping up in your peripheral, you jump slightly as he stands there - his cheeks flushed as he takes off his cap and runs a hand through his hair before putting it back on.

“Come on, querida,” he says, his hand extended awaiting your grasp. A suspicious smirk tugs at your lips, brows scrunched in question. He leads you to the rear of the truck, the trunk door open. Pillows and blankets strewn about the truck bed, a cooler and his laptop lay on the floor.

Gasping at the sight in front of you, tears spring in your eyes. You whirl around, hands still entwined as a cheek-splitting smile crinkles your face.

“Frankie. You did all this for me?” You ask quietly, Frankie mirroring your smile. 

“Of course, querida. I know we said no gifts this year and we wanted to stay in with work being hectic for both of us, but you still deserve something.” His voice growing hushed and timid, his free hand fidgeting as his neck flushes red. Smiling even bigger, you throw your arms around his broad shoulders, looping them around his neck and crash your lips onto his. Frankie cups your cheeks as you two smile into each other, soft laughter bubbling from both of you.

��You are the sweetest man alive, Francisco Morales,” you whisper, disconnecting from him. His cheeks flush with heat. “I don’t know about all that, querida,” he rasps against your lips, grinning bashfully.

“You are, Frankie. This is perfect. Thank you for this, amor - for loving me. I love you,” you utter sweetly, threading your fingers through his curls and giving his head an affectionate, gentle scratch.

“No need to thank me, baby. Loving you is the best decision I’ve ever made. I love you - so much, hermosa,” he affirms, his voice growing huskier. He stealthily sneaks his hands down your back, resting them on the globes of your ass. He leans in, capturing your lips in another tender kiss.

The tenderness doesn’t last long though as the kiss blossoms into something hungrier, thick with lust. Frankie walks you backwards towards the truck bed, carefully helping you inside.

Only breaking for air to scoot back and settle into the makeshift mattress. He slowly settles you on your back against the plush padding of the blankets and pillows. Yanking him down for another hungry kiss, moans and sighs grow louder. The area is so secluded, no one is around to hear.

He slides his tongue into your mouth, tongues entangled and teeth clashing together. Moaning into him, he brings his rough, warm hands to cup your cheeks, sucking your bottom lip in between his teeth.

“Frankie,” you moan softly, parting from his lips, panting. Frankie suckles on your neck, moving his way to nip at your jaw. Kissing his way down your body, you moan quietly when he presses a kiss above your clothed mound.

“Can I take these off, hermosa?” He asks softly, toying with the hem of your leggings. You nod, whimpering as he slides them off, not wasting a second. Peppering kisses along your bare thighs, you squirm beneath him - desperate for his mouth.

“Need to taste you, baby,” he rasps, kissing your mound before slipping off your panties, tossing them to the side to join your leggings. You lift your hips, aiding him in the process and lay back down as he licks his lips. Eyes blown black and wild, eager and hungry for you. The feel of his lips against your bare sex earns him a whine, a desperate plea for more.

“I got you, querida,” he grits, diving in and licking a long, languid stripe between your folds, moaning into you as he savors the sweet, salty tang of your slick. Moaning at the feeling of his hot mouth on your aching core, you tug on his soft curls. Frankie grunts into you, always loving the way you grip his hair, holding onto him for purchase as he unravels you.

A wanton moan tumbles from your lips, slick endlessly streaming from your weeping cunt as Frankie slurps up every droplet. Your back arching further into the air as your head sinks deeper into the plush mountain of pillows and blankets on the truck bed.

“So fucking good, Frankie, fuck, yes, baby." Your moans bloom into a cry as Frankie abruptly stops, pulling away and sitting up. His cheeks sticky with your nectar, and his eyes black and wild - vehement. He sits up against the pillows, bringing you to sit up with him.

“Wh-what? No, Frankie, please why’d you st-,” you whine, until Frankie cuts you off with his rough grasp. He drags you up his chest, leaving a trail of slick on his belly and broad chest, before coming face-to-face with your dripping cunt - groaning at the sight of your swollen clit. Without a word, he forces you to sit on his face, his strong nose nudging at your clit as his tongue prods in and out of your entrance.

Sucking in a sharp gasp, you clutch his curls, the new position throwing you off-kilter. Gasps morph into uncontrollable moans as he grips your thighs tightly, your hips rocking into his face. His tongue flicks your precious pearl swirling frantic circles around your clit before wrapping his lips around your swollen bud.

“Oh my god, oh my fucking god, Frankie,” you keen, your orgasm rapidly approaching - taunting you on a precipice that’s just within reach. Frankie moaning below you, the vibrations sending jolts of electricity throughout your entire body. 

You glance down with glazed eyes, catching a glimpse of him drunk off your pussy. Eyes shut in bliss, cheeks flushed and shiny, his scruff burning your thighs, curls disheveled as he moans while working his skillful tongue. It pushes you further to the edge, wailing above him as you cant your hips harder into his face.

“Yes, yes, yes, Frankie! Oh fuck, Frankie! I’m gonna come, I’m gonna - oh fuck!”

Twitching and writhing above him, he releases your clit from his lips and licks another long stripe through your folds before relentlessly flicking at your precious swollen bud again.

“Frankie, oh fuck! Frankie, Frankie, Frankie!”

You crumble, your body nearly folding in on itself as your orgasm sets your body aflame, rutting your hips into your boyfriend’s face. Screaming his name as you ride out your orgasm. Your heartbeat thrumming in your ears like the waves crashing in the ocean nearby.

As the rush of your orgasm slows, Frankie wastes no time to slide you off his face, licking his lips and eyes wide and feral. Your legs tremble as he settles you atop his stomach. The trail of hair brushing against your sensitive clit, hissing at the sensation.

Frankie grunts with his bottom lip sucked in between his teeth as he hastily fiddles with his belt, unbuttoning his jeans and yanking his briefs and pants down in one go.

“Need to be inside you, querida,” he grits. You love seeing him so needy, desperate - so wild. He drags you down his stomach, his weeping cock brushes against your folds - guttural moans bouncing off the confines of the truck. He lifts your hips slightly, just enough to slide you down on his cock. Your mouth agape in a perfect O as you slowly sink onto his heavy, hard length. Filling you to the brim, fluttering around him as he twitches inside of you.

“Frankie, s-so full,” you whisper, voice pitchy and desperate. He groans as you clench around him. 

“Fuck, don’t do that, hermosa. Or else this’ll end before it starts.”

He slowly grinds his hips, pushing his cock deeper into you. Shuddering as he feels impossibly deep, taking him is never an easy feat, but the reward is priceless. The stretch aches deliciously as he splits you open.

You slowly grind your hips into his, meeting him with his thrusts. Moans stream from your lips, an endless river of Frankie Frankie Frankie. Your orgasm cresting, the sensitivity still prevalent from the one he gave you just minutes ago. Lifting off him with what little strength you have, you slam your hips back down onto him.

The stretch of his cock makes your eyes roll to the back of your head as you sink back down onto him. He hits that spot just right as he fucks up into you.

“Sweetest fucking pussy ever. Mine, it's all mine, huh, querida? Who does this pussy belong to?” He grits, his hips canting upwards, thrusts growing sloppier every time.

“Y-yours, Frankie! 'S all yours, I'm all yours,” you slur, vision growing spotty.

“‘S right, baby. You're mine. All fucking mine," he moans, his cock punching your g-spot hard, wailing at the feel of him.

“Frankie! Oh god, Frankie,” you keen, bracing yourself on his clothed chest as he fucks you as if his life depends on it.

“Come on, querida. Come for me, you’re so close. Squeezing me so goddamn tight. Let go, baby. Soak my cock, baby, need you to soak my cock, querida,” he babbles, fighting off his own orgasm as you reach the top of yours.

His words send you crashing into your second orgasm, screaming as he fucks you through it. His own resolve crumbles as he watches you squirm and feels you squeeze around him.

Your hearing muffled as your orgasm drags you under the waves, you hear Frankie shout strings of profanities as you feel his cum coat your fluttering walls. The two of you ride out your highs together.

Your vision hazy, covered in a thick fog of bliss as you float back to the surface of reality from the waves of your orgasm. You collapse on his chest, the two of you full clothed, save for your bottoms. Laying on him for a moment, silence hangs in the cool air as you two catch your breath.

He traces patterns on your lower back, huffing as he regains control of himself. His rapid heartbeat returns to a steady thrum, calming your senses. Sex and sweat coats your bodies and the air in the trunk.

Carefully flipping you onto your back, he slips out of you slowly, hissing in tandem at the loss. He grabs one of the extra blankets he packed from the floor and wipes off the combination of his cum and your slick between your thighs. He cleans himself up before tossing the blanket on the floor behind the passenger seat.

Sitting up, you slide your leggings back on, forgoing your panties. Frankie tosses his belt off to the side and pulls his jeans up, leaving the button undone.

“You okay, baby?” He asks, sitting beside you.

Always a gentleman, always checking in with you. 

Bringing a hand to his cheek, you smile at him with heavy eyes. 

“I’m good, baby. Thank you,” you whisper. He smiles, placing a tender kiss on your palm before he lays beside you. 

“I am a little hungry now though. You didn’t tell me we’d be on the road for so long and doing strenuous activities,” you joke. His chest rumbles while he chuckles heartily.

“I didn’t expect to be doing any strenuous activities either… well, at least not so soon into our date.”

“At least wine and dine me first, Morales,” you giggle. He nips at your neck, your giggles blossoming into a belly laugh.

“Come on, amor. Let’s eat. Gotta make sure my girl is ready for round two when we get home,” he says with a wink. He sits up, pulling you up with him. You rearrange the padding and pull up a movie on his laptop as he digs for something in the cooler. 

He pulls out two beers, his toothy grin making you smile. Cracking open two beers, he hands you one and settles back on the fort. He throws a blanket over you two as you snuggle into his side, clinking your bottles together in a silent toast, grinning from ear to ear.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, hermosa. Te amo, baby,” Frankie rasps against your head, pressing a soft kiss to your hairline. Gazing up at him, eyelids droopy with love and admiration. You capture his lips in a sweet, chaste kiss as he pulls you in closer, squeezing you tight.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, mi amor. Te amo también.”

tag list: @honeyedmiller @gracieheartspedro @nostalxgic @harriedandharassed @loliwrites @pedrostories

#happy frankie friday #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankies morales x female reader #frankie catfish morales #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier #frankie triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fic #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales smut #ilovepedro valentine’s day series

[running-with-kn1ves]

🧎‍♀️more edira????? in evil old lesbian office worker we trust 🙏

how about a honeymoon-esque vacation scenario??? I am dying to see more of casual edira, the way she was in that last drabble ahgdgshababnabab

ur writing is just so good 💝

A/N: This is so kind! I was really surprised that Edira kept showing up in my inbox but I can't complain! I didn't want to jump to honeymoon just yet so here's a little vacation/beach episode :D

CW: blackmail/forced relationship, power imbalance, edira grabbing reader’s butt, overall possessive red flags --WC:2300

Synopsis: vacay with your powertrip of a girlfriend Edira! But her workaholic tendencies are hard to escape. 

Taking “official” photos was always a humbling experience. You looked down at your passport ID for the hundredth time, grimacing at how dead you looked in the grainy picture. 

“It’s not that bad. And see, the light hit your eyes perfectly,” Edira promised, but it didn’t fix the frown on your face as you focused on each blemish and pore that was exacerbated tenfold in the tiny image that represented who you were across country lines. 

“Easy for you to say, you look the same as you did in your headshots on the branch website..” 

You looked at her from the bed, watching the back of her sandy grey-blonde head shake with a sigh. The business woman rapidly typed away on her glowing laptop, seemingly irritated by the crashing waves outside the open sliding doors. 

“Well, if you really want we can get it taken again, when I put my last name on there too.” 

At that, you were quiet. Moving in together, and now vacations across boarders…. Her reference to marriage shouldn’t have been shocking, but it put all other thoughts in your brain to a stop. You didn’t really want to marry her, did you? Your blackmailing boss who was more like a war general than a tender lover, one who daydreamed about bending you over her desk more than what flowers she’d want at the ceremony venue. The possibility of staring into her bleak expression at an empty, cold courthouse and being forced to elope was something that made your frown droop even further. 

The sad excuse of a wedding depressed you more than the thought of marrying Edira at all. 

But you shook that despairing vision out of your head-- you were here to relax, to get away from the stress of your office environment (your coworkers)  and neverending projects with cutthroat deadlines (running reports and files to Edira as soon as she requests them.)

“Well, I still don’t know how I convinced you to let us do this. I mean, I didn’t think you ever took vacations. When’s the last time you went on a trip that wasn’t for work?”

Edira stopped her clacking, french tips scraping along one of the computer’s keys. 

“This is my first. I never had any reason to use my PTO days, until now.”

Wow, you really WERE dating a workaholic. What kind of insane person doesn’t use their personal days the second they get the chance? If you had been more than a temp, you would’ve taken all of yours the second Edira tried to indoctrinate you into her little play “date” plan.

“Well then why are you doing work!? This is one of the few times you can get away with not being available every other second of the day. You’ve been on your computer since we got on the plane-- isn’t it time we actually, you know, vacationed?”

Edira returned to her email writing. “They might need me, I’m the only one who has access to the other branches’ inf--”

“C’monn, I think they’ll be fine without you for an hour or two. Otherwise, what was the point of coming here..” You hopped to the screen doors, opening the curtains to see the glimmering ocean right outside your suite.The sand rippled with the blowing wind, completely void of footsteps or life.  “I mean we LITERALLY have the ocean right here and you’d rather stare at your laptop.” 

Edira hummed, not convinced. 

Yikes; If you wanted to explore the island you were supposed to be vacationing on, you’d need to pull out the big guns. 

“You’d rather focus on your work than… spend time with me?” Your voice cracked, looking at the ships far away from your corner of the coast. It was physically sickening to sweeten yourself up in order to get Edira’s favor. But how else could you actually use this once-in-a-lifetime chance to swim in the Indian Ocean, to experience something, anything, outside of your boring desk job and droning urban life. 

At your buttered up question, Edira paused. You could see her looking at you from the corner of her eye, unreadable. 

She shut her laptop. Pushing away from the desk she sighed, running a sharp hand through her hair, tight jaw clenching and unclenching. 

“Put your bathing suit on.” Was all she said, unzipping the back of her form-fitting dress. 

You didn’t say anything, no claps of excitement or relentless thank you’s-- lest she change her mind to ruin your fun. You hurried to change your shorts and souvenir shirt (A present from the airport gift shop; Edira saw you eyeing it) as the businesswoman walked to the master bathroom. 

You prayed to be faster than her, hoping she wouldn’t catch you in a position that sparked her lust.

You were running around looking for sunscreen and towels when she came out, hands on her hips and dark sunglasses propped on her head. Even in her backless one piece, she looked like an executive on a business trip,  hard glare in her eyes and a muted black covering the front of her body. From the back however, a different person was hidden. The cheeky bottoms exposed nearly the full of her, well, bottom, as ruffled locks of hair fell like messy feathers down her shoulders, exposed to the salty wind. She was the sexy women in swimsuit magazines, meant to be a fantasy of maturity and dominance way out of your league. But here she was, looking you up and down as you hopped on one foot to try and grab a towel on the other side of the bed. 

“You know, i’m not really a big fan of the beach. I don’t know why I picked this place… should’ve chosen the mountains or something. Someplace we wouldn’t be bothered.”

Someplace she could have you all to herself, she meant. Somewhere you wouldn’t be distracted by things to do and  would come looking to her for warmth by the fire. 

“Maybe next vacation!” You hoped, praying that it turned the cogs in her machine brain to take you somewhere else, anywhere else, soon. “Meanwhile, we have our own private beach, thanks to you. We’ll only be bothered by the occasional seaweed. And maybe a fish or two.”

You gathered up the beach necessities in your arms, full of towels and a beach umbrella, along with small must-haves like water bottles and sunscreen spray cans. Edira looked at you with an incredilous stare, grabbing the towels and water from your hands to shove into her beach bag. 

“Yeah, didn’t really think of that.” You said, noticing how most of the things you grabbed could be fit into her infinite ‘lifes a beach’ tote-- complementary from your Airbnb hosts.

“Let’s go.” 

She walked out to the naked patio, locking her pointer finger with yours as you hiked the umbrella on your shoulder. You had come to learn Edira well; she didn’t like the sun, hated most gelatinous sugary mixtures, and was incredibly stubborn if an activity included something she found beneath her. Getting sand between her toes, included. 

You found a place far away from the shore and began spinning the umbrella’s pole into the ground. Edira would surely make use of its shade, but the ocean was calling your name as she sat down on her beach towel, squinting behind her sunglasses. 

“I can see the harbor from across the water; not particularly private, I’d say. The hosts’ll make sure to hear about this when we leave.”

“It’s private enough. What, did you want to go skinny dipping or something?” You laughed, clumping sand at the base of the umbrella with your foot. “The press would have a field day.”

You flumped down next to her, happy to be out of that stuffy, although beautiful, beach house that reminded you too much of Edira’s apartment. The warm sand was comforting, shells and rocks placed around you like little treasures. 

“If I want to go skinny dipping with you I should be able to, not have to worry about some fisherman watching while I touch you.” She pulled at your thigh, placing her hand on the inside as she lifted up her sunglasses. “Or maybe, you’d like that, letting them watch you frolick and squirm. Maybe we should find out if they can really see us--”

She had the full intention of digging under your bottoms to make a statement, but your reaction time to her had improved. 

“You’re such a worrywart, can we just swim now please? It’s better than sitting her in the hot sun, on the sticky sand..” You knew you caught her when she turned her nose at the mention of the sun, only worsening as she started to feel the sand cover her feet. 

She was a priss through and through, and sometimes it worked in your favor.

“Fine… but if I’m touched by something slimy I can’t help what I do.” 

You grinned with your teeth, unable to hold back a smile at finally getting to experience the beginning of your vacation. 

You ran to the waves crashing against the sand, feeling them flick up at your ankles and knees as you waded in the water.

You turned around to walk backwards into the sea, watching as the woman hesitantly took out a hairtie that once had her hair in a high pony. 

“Come on! Slowpoke!” 

Edira reached the gap between land and water, frowning at schools of tiny fish and jagged rocks that would surely make it hard to walk in heels the next morning. 

You had to drag her further, holding her outstretched hand as she let you lead her deeper into the water. 

“It’s not so bad, right? Nothing slimy thus far…”

“Something’s definitely touching my leg.” She remarked, linking arms with you as if you were a safety floaty. “And it smells like fish.”

You both trudged far enough from shore, a little more than waist deep as you watched the sun near the horizon line. 

You took a moment to look at it, staring as the boats pass by from far away, seeing the empty houses on the beach neighboring yours between areas of trees. 

Edira turned towards you, the same moment something coming to grip your bottom. 

“Something nabbed me!” You nearly shrieked, only to feel the same sensation on your other cheek, pulling you forward against Edira. She had her arms wrapped behind you, squeezing your ass like it was dough to be kneaded. 

“Thought I was the scared one, hm?” 

You looked away, putting your hands against Edira’s abdomen. She leered over you, ignoring your attempts to create distance as she caged you in. The waves pushed you together, water swaying as her legs brushed against your knees deep below. 

“don't look away from me now, you're too adorable like this…”

She watched your eyes barely peek up, defensive fists flattening against the bare of her collarbone. She was almost spotless, save for a few sun-kissed freckles sprinkled here and there. 

Edira grinned a wolfy smirk. Even despite her discomfort in the sea she knew you were wrapped around her finger, nervous lips twitching while watching her bring a hand from your bottom to your neck.

Her hands  were salty and wet from the sea, pulling at the base of your head to bring you closer. The workaholic almost seemed to begin destressing as her nose pressed against yours.. Edira nuzzled with her forehead pressed to your sweaty one, fine fingers caressing downward to grab your jaw. 

Without warning, her tongue perched itself against your cheek, turning your face to the side as she ran a long stripe up to your temple. It was wet and full, drawing out her time to savor the flavor and discomfort of your expression. 

“What are you--”

“Salty.” She murmured. “You're so soft, getting all mushy in my arms.” Edira laughed-- a real laugh, with a small snort as she leaned into you. She was so close, the intimate entertwining of your bodies so unusual from her normal obscurity.

It was hard not to look petulant when her eyes peered down at you with a gleam, as if you were a cute drunk thing at the bar she wanted to take home safe, or a pampered puppy ready to be suffocated with attention. 

“So cute.. might make me jealous letting all these boatmen see you in such a little bathing suit.” She teased, progressively in a better mood now with the clouds blocking the sun and your body so cooperative in her grasp. 

“Jealous?” You rolled your eyes. “Oh noo, I could never imagine my girlfriend being jealous.”

All the times of her domineering possessive behavior ran through your head, the sarcastic comment truly not detailing how severe she had gone.  

“I am your girlfriend…” she grinned, kissing your shoulder with a tight grip arpund your hips. “Now that I hear it,I want more… it sounds too, loose.”

Wait, did you really call her your “girlfriend”? Hell, maybe the sun was starting to get to you. 

“We'll it’s not like we can get MARRIED, haha,” you awkwardly brush off how romantic she's being all of a sudden, soft circles created by her nails running along the dip of your back. “I mean… right? We're too uncommitted for marriage, and I mean who would want to marry someone the’re in a fake relationship with.”

You couldn’t tell if you were talking about her or you anymore. Edira’s chest pressed against yours, arms tentatively keeping you trapped against her. 

“Mm… Still feels fake to you?” She questioned In your neck, surprisingly calmer than you expected her to be at that comment. “How much more do I need to convince you that this is real,” Those soft lips came to brush against your ear. “That you’re not going anywhere.”

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