#but I don’t expect that from anyone. don’t want to rely on others.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: Hop & Joyce don't really like or trust Steve & he knows it. He can tell by their behavior towards him. Post spring break from Hell, Steve tears into them both after they insinuate that it's his fault for the kids being hurt. Steve YELLING at them in front of the party bc he is injured more grievously than the kids & he once again protected them, to the detriment of himself.

Joyce & Hop are forced to acknowledge that their behavior was cruel. And they have to apologize but Steve doesn't accept their apology straight away.

I am usually such a sucker for Hopper adopting Steve and treating him as his own that this was really difficult. Like, maybe top 5 most difficult things I have ever written. It's kind of short, but I wanted more of the focus to be on people standing up for Steve and Steve standing up for himself than the actual angsty part. My darling, I hope it lives up to expectations! -Mickala ❤️

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“I guess I just don’t understand how Max ended up like this if Steve was supposed to be protecting them all.”

Joyce’s words echoed in Steve’s head.

She was whispering to Hopper in the waiting room, but it was surprisingly quiet, and easy to hear just about anything.

The kids were asleep on the couches, waiting for any news on Max or Eddie, but the nurses told them it could be hours. Hours were a long time to wait when someone was bleeding out and the other someone had multiple broken bones and was unconscious.

Steve felt untethered, his connection to the earth cut the moment he saw what happened to Eddie, pushed into a dangerous orbit when he saw what happened to Max.

“He’s never really let me down like this. Did you hear Dustin say he thinks he was distracted by Eddie?” Hopper asked quietly.

“What did he mean by that?” Joyce paused. “Oh. Do you think so?” Steve couldn’t see their faces, couldn’t see the way they were having a silent conversation within a conversation. “It wouldn’t be the first time Steve let his romantic feelings get in the way of their safety.”

And that really wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair because he always put these kids who weren’t even his first whenever he could. It wasn’t fair because it wasn’t his job to be perfect. It wasn’t fair because they were the adults who should have been here to help and they weren’t.

He could feel tears building up, his vision getting just blurry enough that he knew he needed to walk away or he would start actually crying, and he couldn’t let anyone see that.

Especially not Joyce and Hopper.

Apparently, they already thought so little of him, he couldn’t possibly show them that he was struggling now.

“I think we’ll have to have a talk with the kids about trusted adults. They seem to rely on him for a lot and maybe if we just explain to them that Steve can’t handle it-”

“Excuse me, Mr. Hopper?” A nurse, thankfully, interrupted them.

Steve turned to see a young nurse, probably barely older than him, standing in the entranceway to the waiting room.

Hopper walked over to her, actually whispering this time, as if what was being said right now was a secret, but not the way he felt about Steve.

He glanced over at Steve, then nodded to the nurse. He called Joyce over to them, whispered something, then they both looked at Steve.

He hated what was happening. He was used to being a disappointment to adults, but in a silent way. His parents weren’t really ever around long enough to show their disappointment for long. Seeing it now, on the faces of people he respected and wanted to impress, hurt.

Hopper started walking over to him, his face serious.

“They have Max stable. She may not wake up from the coma, but they’re hoping she makes a turn for the better soon. Eddie woke up a few minutes ago while they were trying to stitch him up and he kept yelling for you. He isn’t quite stable yet. He passed back out as they were trying to put him on oxygen.”

“But they’re both alive?”

“For now.”

“Can I see Max?”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea right now. They’re trying to reach her mom, but the phone lines keep going down. I’m standing in as the adult responsible until she can be contacted.”

“So now you want to be the adult responsible? Not any other time when we needed you?” Erica said from behind them.

She’d been asleep with Lucas and El only a minute ago.

“Erica, it’s fine. I’ll just wait with you guys.”

“No, Steve, it’s not fine.” Erica put her hands on her hips, scowled up at Hopper and Joyce, who had just joined them. “Steve looks out for us every day. Even when the world isn’t trying to end. He drives us to school or from school or to the arcade, he pays for our food at the diner all the time, probably spends all his paychecks on us. And where are the parents? They don’t even know where we are most of the time.”

“But-” Joyce started to interrupt until Erica held up her hand.

“You left your kids to fly to Russia when you knew something weird was going on. You could have died, and then what? You know who would have stepped in? Steve. Because that’s what he does for us. Do you know one of his worst concussions was because he was protecting Lucas and Max from Billy? You know he drove Max everywhere she needed to go all year because she didn’t wanna be around anyone else? How about the fact that without him, we wouldn’t have even been able to get Eddie back here? But sure, blame him for this. It totally makes sense to point the finger at the one person who has protected us over and over again.”

Steve was crying.

The other kids were starting to wake up from her voice getting louder as she spoke, and it didn’t take long for them to realize what was happening.

El and Dustin surrounded Steve, cuddling into his sides to comfort him. He needed it, and he was always willing to accept love from the kids. They so rarely gave it, not because they didn’t love him, but because they were at that age where they didn’t want to.

These kids were his in almost every way that mattered, and he was just grateful that they weren’t hesitating when he needed them most.

“You kids could have died. Steve should have never allowed most of this to happen. He’s the adult, and he let you all go into this without even considering you could die.”

“You think we were just gonna sit around and wait for the adults to handle it? When have we ever done that?” Dustin asked incredulously.

“It’s what you should have done. Steve knows that.”

“Mr. Harrington?” A different nurse was standing in the doorway now, older, definitely less nervous.

“Yes?” Steve responded, wiping his tears away quickly.

“Mr. Munson is in a recovery room. He’s woken up a few times for a minute and each time he’s asked for you. Are you family?”

He was pretty certain hospital policy meant only family could go back, especially during natural disasters, so he lied.

“Yes, he’s my cousin. I can’t reach anyone else yet.”

The nurse smiled, though she probably didn’t quite believe him.

“Right this way, then.”

Dustin tugged on his arm.

“Can I come with you?”

“Sorry,” Steve shook his head. “Not yet. Let me check on him, and I’ll come right back out for you.”

“See? This is what I meant about letting his feelings get in the way! What if we weren’t here? Would you just leave the kids to sit out here alone?”

This time, El spoke up.

“Steve is always putting us first. He can put himself first sometimes. That is allowed.”

Steve wanted to hug her again, but the nurse looked like she was going to walk away, and if he didn’t follow her, he wouldn’t see Eddie.

“Go see him, we’ll be here,” Lucas said from next to Erica.

He nodded at them all, giving them a smile before he followed the nurse without looking back at Hopper or Joyce.

Eddie was asleep when they entered the room, so the nurse whispered to him at the door.

“He’s on a lot of morphine, and he’s still receiving a blood transfusion. He may wake up off and on, but he probably won’t make much sense until they lower the dose. Just be here for him,” she smiled before leaving the room.

Steve turned to Eddie and couldn’t hold back more tears.

He’d let him down. He’d let all of them down.

He was supposed to be the hero, despite the jokes about it all, they all knew he was.

But not this time.

Eddie almost died. Max almost died.

He could feel the bat bite on his stomach burning and itching, like it was already getting infected, but he ignored it.

He could wait.

He sat down on the side of the bed, slowly so he wouldn’t wake Eddie up.

But Eddie’s eyes fluttered open once, then twice, then a third time before they managed to stay open enough to see Steve.

“Stevie?” His voice rasped out, a small smile hidden under his oxygen mask. “You’re here.”

“I’m here, Eds.”

He had to be strong, but his brain was so focused on everything he’d done wrong and if he’d just been faster or got out of the vines quicker, Eddie probably wouldn’t be here and Max would be awake and-

“Stop.”

“Hm? Stop what?”

“Bein’ mean.”

Steve’s brows furrowed. He hadn’t even said anything else, had he? Was he so exhausted that he was actually talking without realizing it now?

“I’m not even saying anything.”

Maybe it was Eddie hearing things. He knew morphine was pretty intense.

“To yourself.”

“What?”

“Bein’ mean to yourself. In your head.”

“I-”

“‘S okay. Me too sometimes. Just gotta stop.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at the way Eddie’s eyes kept drooping closed as he spoke. He would probably fall back asleep any second.

“I’ll be nice. You get some sleep.”

“You rest?”

“Not yet. Maybe later.”

Steve couldn’t really rest until he knew everyone was home, safe, and sleeping off some of the worst of their injuries.

“Yes yet.”

Steve snorted. Eddie was so high. He knew it was better than whatever pain he would feel when they eased him off of everything, but hopefully he wouldn’t remember all this.

“Sleep,” Eddie said, his hand managing to find Steve’s and tugging weakly on it.

“I can’t sleep here, Eds. This is your bed.”

“Our bed.”

Steve’s cheeks were hot, he knew if he touched them, they’d feel like fire. Eddie just had that way of completely rendering Steve speechless. He’d done it so many times over the last couple of days, Steve lost count.

“I’ll stay right here until your uncle gets here, okay?”

“And after?”

It probably wasn’t smart. It would look weird for him to stay in general, but he also had to get the kids home, try to patch himself up at home, maybe shower before he did some rounds and made sure everyone was taken care of.

“I have to take care of the kids.”

“But they have parents.”

“Yeah, well.”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Hopper walked in, face as serious as Steve had ever seen it.

“I was able to contact your uncle, Eddie. You can go now, Steve.”

But Eddie gripped his hand harder, frowning at Hopper. He seemed more awake all of a sudden, but with the way his eyes kept trying to close, Steve could see it was a challenge.

“I want him here.”

“Eds, it’s fine. He’s not too happy with me right now, so-”

“What? Why? You helped save the world.”

Eddie was looking between Steve and Hopper like an answer would suddenly make itself known, but Hopper was just staring at Eddie, and Steve was just staring at his feet.

He didn’t want to get Eddie involved in this. He just wanted to pretend it never happened, maybe try to look Hopper in the eye again someday, and apologize to Joyce for not keeping the kids as safe as he could have.

But Eddie apparently took the “no running” thing very seriously now.

“Steve? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just. I kinda let them down, didn’t keep everyone safe.”

Steve shrugged it off, but he knew he wasn’t very convincing, or really even shrugging it off. He still felt the ache of disappointing people in his chest.

“Hold the fuck up. You’re serious?”

Eddie sounded as outraged as someone high on morphine could. His voice was barely distorted by the oxygen mask on his face, and his eyes were nearly at their normal size.

Steve couldn’t look at either of them.

“Steve is trusted by all these parents to keep their kids out of danger, and he brought them headfirst into it. It just made Joyce and I wonder how often they were doing stupid things,” Hopper explained, though he didn’t even sound convinced he believed his own words.

Joyce was walking in just as Eddie was about to speak.

“Steve, I think you should bring Dustin home. Claudia is going to get worried.”

He didn’t need to look up to know that Eddie was glaring at Joyce and Hopper.

“Let me get this straight. Steve provides free rides, and babysitting services, and meals, and fun for your kids damn near every day. He protects them during this shit every time it happens, literally puts his body on the line to keep them alive. Tried to somehow keep them as safe as possible when it seemed like the world was ending this time, did keep them alive, and you’re still finding reasons to blame him?”

They both had the decency to at least look like they regretted it.

But they still didn’t say anything.

“Fuck this. I’m not gonna pretend to know everything about your little Upside Down Club, but I’m in it now. None of us wanna be here, but we are. Steve’s been doing his best for years, since he was a kid, and all you can do is complain that your sweet angels aren’t completely unscathed? This is a team effort, you know that. They volunteered. Steve would have had to lock them in a prison cell for them not to help.”

Steve looked up at Eddie, watched as he started to lose the fire that had overtaken him temporarily, his eyes dulling as the morphine dripped into his veins and flushed through his system.

“Best damn babysitter…” Eddie mumbled as his eyes fell closed.

Steve watched him for a moment, waiting to see if he suddenly woke up again. When he didn’t, he stood up slowly, didn’t want to risk him feeling the bed move, and made his way to the door.

But something hurt in his chest, something he knew wouldn’t go away unless he said something.

He turned to see Hopper and Joyce staring at each other, having a silent conversation.

“I’m used to disappointing people. I’ve been disappointing my parents my whole life. Disappointed friends, Nancy, bosses. But I have never let those kids down. I do my best with them. I try to be there for them the way I wish someone had been there for me. I make sure they’re kids because life handed them a shitty card or whatever and they deserve to still be kids. You can be mad at me if you want, but I know I did my best. They know I did my best.”

He didn’t wait for a response, didn’t want to hear them say anything else about how wrong his decisions were.

But Joyce stopped him from leaving the room, hand on his arm.

“Steve, wait. Honey, I’m sorry. I think…I think we got caught up in the moment and just needed someone to blame.”

“You do the best you can. We know you do a lot for them.”

It was nice to hear, but he couldn’t get over the uncomfortable itch in the back of his head that he deserved more than that.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I can accept the apology right now.” And then the anger really set in. It came over him so fast, he could feel his hands shaking. “A lot of things are out of our control. We all wanna blame someone for this stuff, but it just boils down to the same people over and over. Max is in a coma because of Henry Creel, not me. Eddie is in the hospital because of demon bats, not me. Eleven and Will are connected to the Upside Down because of the government, not me. I’m just trying to be whatever they need, and that’s better than I can say for either of you at this point.” Steve left this time, Joyce dropping her hand from his arm halfway through his loud speech.

Okay, he was yelling.

But Eddie slept through it, and it felt good to get all of that out.

He made his way to the waiting room, hoping everyone would still be there so he could check in.

Everything felt too fresh, too much like Vecna could show back up and take any of them at any moment.

But the waiting room was empty, not even Dustin remained.

Steve did his best not to panic. Their parents had all been contacted, so they most likely had just been picked up and brought home.

“They’ve all been picked up, sugar,” an older nurse said from the front desk.

“Oh. Thanks.”

“They left you a note, though.”

He recognized her as the woman who had been here the whole night, handling phone calls and people walking in like she’d been doing this for decades. Maybe she had been.

He walked over and grabbed it from her, giving her a small smile in thanks.

He walked outside before he opened it, not sure why he was suddenly nervous.

But as he read, he felt tears in his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

Steve- Go home and sleep. We’ll be okay for a day while you rest. You don’t ever do that. We don’t agree with Joyce and Hopper, and we hope you know you’re the best damn babysitter ever. Love, Dustin, Lucas, Erica, El, Will, Mike, and Max (if she could)

He folded up the note, put it in his pocket, and walked to his car.

He ignored the blood in the backseat, rolled his windows down to ignore the stench of iron.

Knew he would be spending most of his day tomorrow trying to clean the stains out, but figured it would be a good mindless task.

He thought about Eddie, about how quick he was to defend him. About how he’d gripped his hand like it was a lifeline.

It felt that way to Steve.

He hadn’t let Eddie down. He’d saved Eddie.

If he didn’t do anything else right, he’d done that, and nothing Joyce or Hopper said could take that away.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #joyce byers #jim hopper #ficlet #request #some angst but a positive ending #with some cute drugged up eddie #and some overprotective gremlins

[eamour]

let go of the old version.

i am right now telling you to let go of the old version of yourself. you are under no obligation to be the person you were yesterday, the person you were some days ago or simply the person you used to be. you are allowed to change. you deserve to change. you can better yourself and become the imagine of yourself you have always wanted to embody.

you don’t need my or anyone’s permission to tell you that you may change to your liking, but sometimes we need to hear it. and that’s why i‘m telling you this!

create a new version.

it’s about damn time you stop pitying yourself and shift your focus back to the basics. you know imagination creates reality. you know that you are in control of your thoughts and you will always be. so, what are you waiting for? you know exactly what to do, so what’s the matter? you are the only person stopping you from reaching your full potential. and i need you to put away all the fears, all of that bottled up anxiety inside of you that prevents you from thinking desirable thoughts. create the version of yourself who you are happy with, the version you want to resemble and do not hold back! write it down, imagine them — how would you act? how would you talk? because whoever that perfect person is that you have in mind, you can be just like them — and NO ONE can stop you from becoming them!

be who you want to be.

i know it can be hard. we often rely on our outer circumstances and follow our outer rules that like to tell us how we need to behave and what we need to do in order to achieve certain things. but that’s irrelevant. all of it — put it AWAY. we already have established that you are god, so STOP living according to these principles. they do not apply to you. they do not apply to GOD.

leave negative feelings behind.

you might be looking for reassurance, for someone to tell you that you can change without feeling bad, humiliated, embarrassed or even ashamed of yourself. changing yourself often means to face the version of you that you no longer desire to identify with. it means to look back to a life that no longer serves you and that you now have to let go of. and you know what? it might be hurtful. but we have been "trained" to be perfect, to do our absolute best, to be okay with the things we are not okay with our whole lives… people have been expecting so much from you — it can be hard to go against those beliefs. but this is manifesting. not being okay with the things you are not okay with and going against them. wanting the best for you. and most importantly, showing yourself the same amount of compassion you show others.

you are allowed to change.

you are allowed to better your family. you are allowed to manifest your love interest. you are allowed to change your past scores. you are allowed to become rich. you are allowed to get whatever it is that you want! this is your reality darling, only yours. i promise, you aren’t hurting anyone BUT yourself if you don’t go for what’s meant for you. because what is life when you can desire but not receive?

with love, ella.

#law of assumption #neville goddard #loassumption #manifestation #manifesting #loa #the law of assumption #manifest #spiritual #spirituality #motivational #reality shift #reality shifting #imagination creates reality #affirm and persist #loa success #loa tumblr #loa blog #loablr #loa affirmations #affirmyourreality #affirming #affirmations #void success #void success story #prompts #manifest your dreams #manifest your life #manifest it #law of attraction

[chronically-ghosted]

in another life . . .

rating: explicit, 18+

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 7K

summary: Partner. That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself. And then he met you and the definition changed again.

warnings: domestic!frankie, marriage kink (if that’s a thing), oral (f receiving) but i think that’s an expectation from every frankie fic, improper use of a kitchen table, unprotected piv, no use of y/n, brief mentions of PTSD, improper use of Spanish, eating in bed 

a/n: requested for my 100 followers event! Anon: hiiii firstly! congrats on the big one hundo you totally deserve it 🥂‼️ secondly wondering if I could rq a Pedro boy drabble with prompt number 12... I wanna do laundry for Frankie Morales :D “did you just wash these sheets?” “I did.” “they smell nice. and they’re still warm.”

🤍Masterlist

. . . I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.

Frankie fills the silence of the house without you in it with music. This house, it had been your choice, even though he never expressly made you choose, or even presented the dichotomy. This house, with its leaky faucet and janky AC unit and finicky pilot light, was what you wanted instead of a diamond ring, and so he gave it to you. First down payment, along with every other red cent you and he had both saved up, went into buying your first home together. This wasn’t forever, you both agreed (with only two bedrooms it wasn’t enough room for a baby, he often thought) but even as the real estate agent glanced around with disdain for the house and your budget, one look from you and it was settled. 

“It has good bones,” you said, standing out on the concrete deck overlooking a postage-stamp-sized backyard. There were weeds in the corners and holes from some unknown animal but he could see the wheels in your head turning, imagining how you, like everything else you did, planned to tackle and wrestle control over it with your bare hands. “It needs work, but I think there’s something special here.” 

“Yeah?” he asked, threading his fingers through yours, the real estate agent no doubt off somewhere inspecting the drains. “Is there something here?”

You grinned and shoved your nose then a soft press of your lips into his denim-shoulder. 

“I’m sure of it.”

All his life, Frankie worked best in a unit. As children, his older brother, his younger brother, and him were practically inseparable, their physical similarities almost presenting as the same person but at different ages, and when that group disbanded because Oscar left for college, he went on to find another one. First, his army unit, then the boys. His boys. Left to his own devices, Frankie was terrible at remembering to eat, sleep regularly – focus on anything other than fixing cars and planes, really – but he’d do it for them. He hated to see that worried crease show up on Will’s brow when Frankie admitted he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He hated that Benny had to show up at his apartment to drag his ass outta bed to get him into the sunlight. And he hated when Pope felt obligated to take him out to bars to try and meet women.

“I’m not dating someone just so they can be my mother,” Frankie muttered into the lip of his beer bottle. “I don’t need anyone thinking I need to rely on them like that.” 

“Yeah, but you do better when you have people relying on you.” Pope’s dark eyes flitted from a woman at the bar top to him, with intention and full of force. “And I’m not saying I’m trying to get you to fuck your mother, but you need a partner.” 

Partner. 

That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself. 

And then he met you and the definition changed again. 

You are his best friend. You are the woman he wants to fuck every day for the rest of his life. You are the first person he wants to tell good news to and the first person he wants to talk to when he’s had a shitty day. Your voice quiets something inside him that has been far too loud for far too long. You are a relief and a refuge. For all his faults, you love him and sometimes he can’t fathom why. 

You are his partner – in life, in marriage (one day), and forever (he hopes).

“I might not always like you, Catfish,” you said to him in Will’s backyard for Benny’s birthday party. You had been drinking and every sip seems to bring you closer and closer to him. With your face tucked up into his neck, arms up under his flannel and hugging his waist, the only way he could be physically closer to you was if he was inside you – which he was about two seconds away from suggestion when you leaned in close. “‘M not always going to like you, but ‘m always going love you.”

And love him you did. You loved him when he decided to go back to school to get some additional certifications so he could maybe teach flight school. The army would pay for most of it, was a fucking relief to your shared thread-bare, cartoon-spider-web empty savings account. But what the army would not pay for was for you to go to nursing school. You worked in hotels for the events services branch, coordinating everything from weddings to conferences, walking (mostly running) from one end of the hotel to the next. Your sister got you a Fitbit for Christmas one year and after the holiday rush, you walked twenty miles in two days. 

“After that, this nursing stuff should be a breeze,” you said flippantly as you signed your paperwork for admissions. 

Of course you got accepted at one of the better hospitals in the city – he never doubted for a second you would – and as the fresh-faced trainee, you got stuck with most of the night shifts. 

Which meant his days looked a lot like this: wake up at 6AM, drive an hour to the helicopter tour building on the coast, fly rich idiots around all day, eat the lunch you had prepped for the both of you on Sunday night, continue flying rich idiots around, drive home in two-hour traffic, change into his work overalls, go work on some cars Benny’s buddy had at the local garage for some extra cash, then go home, heat up dinner you also made Sunday night, and then attend to the most pressing thing you or the house needed. 

Which could be:

Fixing the AC unit, resealing the back door so it would close properly, re-caulking the shower, building more attic space, repainting the back fence, or replacing the hand towel holder.

Frankie didn’t mind the hard work. It kept his mind and his hands busy. What he did mind was the house silent and eerily empty without you here. 

He didn’t mind the hard work because even for a few hours, he got to hold you while you slept. He got to eat with you at 10:30 at night and it was the highlight of his day.

Pay your surgeon very well to break the spell of aging

Sicker than the rest, there is no test, but this is what you're craving?

Frankie bobs his head, his earphones carefully tucked up under his shirt to prevent the laundry from tangling up in them. He hauls out the latest load and moves onto the washer, fishing out one more sock when suddenly the lights go off. All of them. Total darkness.

And then light and he’s staring down the bottom of the drum.

Then dark. And light.

You. Your code. One you designed when you read that PTSD victims are often triggered into a fight-or-flight response when startled. You, who knew before he did, how to manage the symptoms, create workarounds, and find a pathway through, instead of not at all. 

He takes out one of the earbuds and smiles.

“Hey, you’re home.” 

You lean against the doorway, smiling that smile that is reserved for him and him alone. Sometimes he’s selfish and wants everything of yours to be only for him – all your smiles, your laughter, your sighs – but that’s like trying to capture sunlight in a butterfly net: too focused on the impossible and you end up missing the daytime. 

“How goes this fucking Sysphian task?” You nod at the baskets of laundry at his feet, referring to how you’d often rant and rave about how laundry, the dishes, and grocery shopping were never tasks that could simply be done. He knows how much you hate being unable to cross things off your to-do lists, so he holds your hand during all of these rantings and kisses your knuckles when you take a breath. 

“Good,” he shrugs. “‘Bout to fold your scrubs for tomorrow.”

“Ah, have I told you lately that I love you?” You swing into the room and kiss him on his cheek, on the division where his patchy beard meets his skin – the place that you most often claimed on him. Your fingers squeeze around his bicep as you pull away and your eyes fall to the basket behind him. You gasp with glee. 

“Did you just wash these sheets?” You ask like you’d just uncovered buried gold. 

He smirks, propping his hip up against the dryer. “I did.” 

Without another word, you scoop them up in your arms and inhale sharply.

“Mhmm, they smell nice.” You bury your head in deep. “And they’re still warm.”

In the rare moments when you’re both home and going through laundry together, he never fails to scoop up a load of hot towels and dump them over your head, relishing in the girlish giggle from beneath the clean laundry. “It’s so toasty,” you whimper with glee. 

“They’re not gonna be if you get your hospital gunk all over them,” Frankie tuts, going back to add a new load into the washer as you glare at him over the lump of sheets. 

“Ha, ha. Move over, Mr. Morales, and watch a master at work.” 

“Yes, Mrs. Morales.” It’s stupid but his heart always fumbles when he calls you that. It started as a joke, one that you initiated, but now it’s like berry jam on his tongue, sweet and sugary. He’s thought about calling you that while he’s inside you but figures he should save something for the wedding night. 

He sidles back, giving you space near the dryer as you pick up a basket of t-shirts.

“You know there’s dinner waiting for you in the kitchen.” He shakes his head as you begin to fold the shirts with lightning speed and precision – a side effect of being the oldest daughter in a family of five kids. 

“Yeah, but you’re in here,” you say and bump his hip. He bumps you back and helps with the load. “Besides, it’ll get done faster with two people.”

He can’t exactly argue with that, so he lets the silence grow. But it’s not silence, not really. In the distance, dogs bark. Outside the room, the temperamental AC grumbles, a sound he never thought he’d come to appreciate. Inside the room, fingers tug at fabric, the soft thump as the shirts grow into a continuous pile. Then there’s you, breathing in the lilac-scented air, the scent of his deodorant and sweat and something entirely unique to him– his Frankie-ness as you’ve called it many times without elaborating. I’d bottle it if I could, you told him, bathe in it. You’re kinda weird, he told you, and you know he likes it. 

Every once in a while, his elbow brushes up against yours, yours skirting around his, but never colliding, an awareness of the other always present and attended to, a flow of familiarity and recognition he’s never felt before or known since. 

Bit by bit, you’ve taken pieces of him into you, picked them up, held them to the light and found them beautiful, until a second bit of his soul lives outside of his body. He knows every inch of you, how every atom calls out to him, begs to be close to him, and held tight. It’s not sunlight he’s trying to keep safe, it’s your heart. Your precious, wonderful heart that is somehow so full, it was enough to fill him up too. Gold filling in the cracks. 

Kintsugi, Benny called it, when he got obsessed with anime for three months that one time two years ago. Frankie never could remember the actual name, and maybe that wasn’t the point and maybe it was a little ridiculous, especially when it was explained by a deliriously drunk and bleary-eyed Ben Miller at one in the morning on his brother’s lawn chair. 

Maybe a better way of thinking about it was how separate, disparate, jagged and raw edges came to fit together. How someone like him got a do-over, another chance to be remade in the kiln, and how someone like you was allowed to love unselfishly, to ask for things and never be threatened with reparations of some kind – as if loving you deserved some sort of compensation. 

Pieces, broken and scattered – he looked up and saw you carrying yours, and you witnessed the scars and blood dripping from the shards of his own past, his life, his love, and despite how slippery his pieces were, how dried and empty and wanting yours were, something pulled them together and made them stay. 

Something stronger than light.

Stronger than gold. 

You shook his hand and looked at what you built together, the pieces that came together, and in the end, that was your partnership. A creation of something greater – home, family, love. 

So much fucking love.

In the end, Frankie Morales used love to build his life, not death, and you’re the one who gave it to him.

He drops the last shirt on the stack and he turns, his fingers seeking the drawstring of your pants. 

You know what he wants. You want it too. A singular desire in two separate bodies.

The inherent closeness of domesticity draws you into him, closing the already limited space as hands find waists and lips find skin. He drags his nose against your jaw, somehow already shaking, his teeth grazing your throat, unwilling and unable to press his lips to you, wanting to drag this out as much as possible. He squeezes your hips, thumbs flipping under your shirt to touch, touch, touch, until his fingers wrap around your ribs and you make your first sound of the night. It snags at his restraint, pulling it threadbare. 

“Frankie,” you sigh and he cannot fight the cataclysmic pull towards you – he stumbles, pinning you to the laundry room wall, his tongue cupping your earlobe into his mouth and he sucks. The next noise you make is high and keening and it turns his touch frantic.

Caught between the wall and his broad shoulders, he does with you what he wants. He nips at your cheek, your neck, the dip of your clavicle, as his thumb presses up each knot of your spine, drawing out the tension from your body like draining poisoned blood, and by the time he pinches off your bra, you’re all but hanging onto him. 

“Baby–,” 

He can hear you say, it’s late, we have work in the morning, you don’t have to do this,

I’m not worth this 

With a low growl that is all possession, all anger that someone ever made you feel like your love was too much, he tugs your shirt off, knocking his hat off as he goes. In the drift, he sees your eyes flutter, mouth twisted in pleasure and guilt – you don’t want to be asking for things like this – and so he silences every doubt, every worry that he’s tired or it’s too late or his knees are aching too much to make you feel the way you deserve – he kisses you with enough force to knock out every unpleasant thought you’ve ever had about yourself and flattens you against the wall. 

You let him pry you open, his touch fervent and insistent, tasting of iced coffee and gum. He licks into you, telling you things with his tongue, the way he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth, in the soft puff of breath that escapes him when you cup the back of his neck. Closer, he begs, closer. 

His wide palm arching your lower back into him, he squeezes your ribs, up under your breast, before finally taking your nipple between his thumb and the meat of his hand and twists, just enough to make you break apart from his demanding mouth, gasping as if tapped by a live wire. But it’s him who is electrocuted, who catches fire, who wants to be chewed down and swallowed up. He shuffles and pulls you into him, the throbbing in his pants bordering on painful. He rubs himself against you once and you sigh like you know he hurts. You nod.

Your fingers peel your shirt up and over your head as he cups one thigh then the other until your hips hug his waist, smearing the hem of his shirt up over his skin. He feels the heat coming from between your legs, the slight dampness, against his lower belly and he groans, low, right near that source of warmth he wants to die in. 

You curl above him, tipping his head back, as you dive into his mouth again, fingers twisting into his hair, thumbs brushing his temple right where you know he tends to get headaches. Your tongue brushes against his upper lip, tasting his mustache, and his knees threaten to buckle. 

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he laments, he praises, into the supple wetness of your tongue. You nod, pleased, and press your chest into him. He cannot fucking wait to get his mouth around your tits.

Mouth sealed to yours, hands cupping the meat of your ass, Frankie works entirely on sense memory to carry you into the kitchen, to a long wooden table beneath a wide window, white curtains closed and blinds shut. 

This table had been one of the first purchases for the new house. Tan cedar boards with white knobby legs, it instantly reminded him of the one in his own childhood home, where he and his brothers fought over meals and did homework together. Where he held his mom after his father died and where he dropped his bag after coming home from a life too long spent fighting other people’s wars. 

This table mattered to him and he’d be damned if it wouldn’t mean something to his own child one day. 

That was something you too wanted to give your child, never having a table like this in your own life. You loved the stories he told about the table in his kitchen. How much it meant to him.

And now he was going to fuck you on it, this symbol of stability.

He just wonders how stable it really is. 

His fingers clutching the back of your neck, arm running in tandem with your spine, he lowers you down, shifting your weight onto his arm so you don’t bump your head against the wood. He releases you but you protest, a muffled uh-uh, as he tries retreating. You loop your arms around his neck, tugging him flat against you and he feels your breasts mold against his chest, nipples already tight.

“Baby,” he breathes, sucking up and out of your mouth, “let me make you feel good.”

Behind him, he hears your sneakers clatter to the floor, your heels digging into his back as you toe off your shoes, and you shake your head. 

“I am.” Kiss. A thumb under his bottom lip. “You do.” Breathless, reverent, grateful. 

Grateful.

Grateful that he is kissing you. 

Not good enough. God, he’s going to eat that self-loathing right out of you. 

You whine, frustrated and hot, as he pulls back. He wants to go right for your pussy, but stutters at the sight of your unmarked tits. Smooth, flushed, heaving. There is no part of you he does not love, does not feel the need to worship on his knees. 

But suddenly sour shame strikes him as he realizes enough time has passed since the last time you’d had sex for the hickeys to heal. He intends to amend that right now. 

His thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips, to calm himself, he folds himself over you, dribbling kisses along your throat, over the wings of your clavicle, at the barest incline at the top of your breast, and then to the meat of your tit, the heaviness, the sway, and he bites down. Predictably, you yelp, nails scratching roughly into his scalp and that only makes him suck harder. You have very strict rules around where he can mark you, but on the places he can – oh, you beg him for it. 

He palms your other tit, just to feel the goosebumps break out across your skin, to roll your nipple with the calluses on his palm. His teeth release, his tongue laving over that already pink and swollen skin, and he glances up, his other thumb coming to massage that fragile patch. 

Being a pilot, a soldier, a brother, a son, those are the things he is. But Frankie lives – aches, pines, desires – to watch you come apart. 

The purple bruise on your tit shining like a luxurious necklace, your eyes flutter open when you feel him pull up. Your fingers around his ears, your chest wet with his spit, you let him take you in. You give him this, because you know you’re about to get so much more. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, he can feel the soft cant of your hips, the quiet, patient begging, as you thought he needed reminding that you needed this. You rub up him, knees pinned to his ribs, and he lets you pull him into your mouth, grounding him. This kiss is brief, soft, a far cry from the tearing and biting that got you onto the table. Knowing exactly the state you need to be in to ask for what you want, he holds your jaw, thumb against the apple of your cheek and he slips his tongue out of your mouth. Again a protest, an instinctual reaction to the repeated pattern of abandonment, but like all cries for help, he quiets your squirming by sliding his thumb between your lips. 

“Suck,” he murmurs gently. Your eyes flutter shut, your nails carving half moons into his forearm, lips creating a vacuum seal around his knuckle and you obey – you suck – and he rewards you with a trail of kisses across your sternum, over your breasts, to the soft swell of your stomach. He nuzzles your belly button and you groan, eyes still shut and his thumb still in your mouth. He bites, softer than before, just above the thatch of hair and you whine around his finger, body going supple for him. He slides his thumb out, dragging a shiny string of spit over your plush lips, down your chin, joining his other hand at the waist band of both your panties and your scrubs. 

Any fast movement will awaken that anxious, overthinking, beautiful brain of yours, now that he has it fuzzy and unfocused, so he keeps kissing, keeps sucking and biting, that spot just above your curls. He tongues your hip, and then the other side, your bottom half wonderfully bare before you can open your eyes. 

His shoulder bumps the back of your thigh as he stands up right, inhaling the sweat behind your knee, the pungent tang of your glistening curls, your almond butter body lotion. It’s hunger, he feels, but not a tangible hunger, one that can be so easily satiated. It’s not painful, or weakening – no, he is made stronger by it. He feels your blood pulse beneath his hand on your inner thigh as he opens you up and he’s made better by it. 

He kneels, a holy servant before the divine meal of their goddess, on shitty linoleum beneath harsh lights in a kitchen he can barely afford. 

Frankie takes your hand, kisses your knuckles, and slides your grip into his hair. 

“Recuérdame cómo te gusta, nena.” 

He eats. He consumes. He licks. He sucks. He slurps.

He tastes your dripping wetness on the seam of your cunt, before his tongue ever gets the chance to explore, to open, to divulge. He licks until he feels your breath hitch – a curse in the shape of his name, as if he needs scolding for making you feel so good – and then he opens his jaw and tongues your hole. 

In a lust-drunk haze you once told him he has something better than DSL – he has a pussy-eating nose. He prods you with that nose you can’t seem to get enough of, licking in as far as he can, coating himself in everything as it leaks out of you, and he moans as he can feel it on his chin. You vibrate with the sound and above him, your fingers clench down into his hair. 

“Oh, fuck, holy – fuck, Frankie–,” your trembling shakes the bowl of your hips, spilling his meal, so he sucks your clit in a way that makes your body freeze and then melt. You go limp, pliable, and gushing. He gets a few more moments of twisting and sucking and swallowing, until by the third time he puts his lips around your clit, you open-mouth whine and it’s like his body violently remembers he has a cock. He is seized with such a need to fuck you in this warm, wet place he’s dug out with his tongue, he doubles over and rests his teeth against your thigh. 

“Frankie, I’m so close,” you writhe, chest flushed and brow sweaty. 

Before you, he never knew sex could feel like this, could do this. Sure, he used sex to keep away those circling, vulture-like thoughts from time to time. But this, this drawing out and unthreading, unspooling, of himself and someone else, tearing at ego-drenched threads until all that was left was a being of pure want and desire – he didn’t know this was possible. 

He didn’t know he could feel like this.

One more broad lick, coating everything in what he hope fucking smells like him, and you arch, thighs shaking, his hair in danger of being ripped from his scalp. You gasp as you flatten, the first orgasm of the night rolling through you, sweat making your skin salty, as though you had been breached by the ocean. 

He laps you through it, of course, a nascent smirk on his face. 

You open your eyes to this self-satisfied Frankie, eyes only visible over the top of your cunt, and you whine. 

You reach for him and he goes, smearing your slick over your face, offering it to you in supplication on his tongue. He tastes your rising desperation, the way you sharpen your teeth against his lips, batter his tongue into the corner of his mouth, try to claim what your cunt already has. His hunger is an infection and your fever has reached a boiling point. 

Your trembling fingers curl his shirt up his back, passing over the ruddy scar on his shoulder where he got hit with a stray bullet, the jagged white line over his ribs where a knife nearly split him open. He used to only fuck with his shirt on. He doesn’t now. 

His shirt crumples to the floor as he sits up, you following, eyes dark, and you bite his pec muscle, your love for him twisting you into an anthropophagist. You want to consume him, like your pussy swallows his cock. Having him impale you is not enough; you want intercourse with him on a subatomic level. 

You inch back to give yourself enough space to unbutton his jeans and he sees the wet slick left behind on the table. The heat behind his groin shoots up his spine and he grunts, burying his face into your neck where he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth, hands planted on either side of you.

“Hurry, baby, I gotta fuck this pussy,” he whispers against the curve of your jaw. He wants to leave a giant purple bruise there, this instinct to claim, to mark, stoking the roiling heat at the base of his spine and drawing up his balls. 

But his attention snaps back to your hands when he hears a click, the release of his zipper is almost euphoric. He moans in relief, unable to see through his half-lidded eyes the explosion of goosebumps over your skin as his breath tumbles over your back and down your chest. 

His urgent hands overwhelm yours, one pushing his jeans down his hips, the other palming your stomach, pushing you back and you go willingly, but seemingly mesmerized by the sight of his aching, flushed cock springing up against his stomach. You lie down, but only barely, still on your elbows, as he tugs you by your ankles to the edge of the table. 

Your uneven breathing could mean a lot of things. He thought you were being complementary the first time you told him he was too big, but your eyes always widened at the sight of his cock. 

“Do you need to be opened up some more, cariño?” 

At his rawest, Spanish came out of him like a spilled bottle of molasses, sweet, slow, rich. 

“Hmm? Tell me what you need. Hable mas alto por favor.” He rubs your knees, your thighs, hoping you’ll ask for what he wants.

“F-fingers, Frankie,” you swallow, eyes still latched on to his now weeping cock. You glance up at him, face open and full of trust, and he feels his dick pulse. “Please, Frankie, put your fingers in me.” 

“Fucking anything.” He plants one hand and cups your mound, lost for a moment in the soaked curls, before pushing two fingers inside and thrusting. “I’ll fucking give you anything you want.” 

His hips jerking slightly in tandem with the pulse of his fingers, his slacked mouth an indication of how unconscious his humping has become, as he watches you dissolve with every stroke of his hand. God, he didn’t know they made things this pretty. His hand pushes your knee up and back, finding room for three fingers and your eyes roll back in your head. You scrabble for anything to hold onto, fingers searching for the ghosts of your bedsheets, but finding none, your arms curl over your head and latch onto the other edge of the table. You present your fucking tits to him like you’re letting him admire artwork. 

It almost brings him to his knees.

“Oh, I’m coming, oh, Frankie, I’m gonna –,”

He pulls out his fingers just enough to let you gush down his palm, his wrist, and he licks it up like a glutton. It drips a bit onto the linoleum and he smears it with his bare feet.

Frankie slides two fingers back in, his brain going fuzzy at being away from the clutch of your cunt for too long, when you grab his wrist. 

You can barely breathe, your skin a pale pink, your cunt no doubt must be sore, but your eyes are as hard as diamonds in your skull. He swallows the flush of spit in his mouth.  

“Now, Frankie,” you plead, fingers tight around his wet wrist, the hairs on his arm standing up at the sound of your commanding voice. “Fuck me, now, I need you inside of me.”

It always makes him a bit dumbstruck, the way you beg, the way you let him and only him see this side of you – this side of you that is sick with wanting.

His hand squeezes the base of his cock once, eyes fluttering, to remind himself he cannot blow his fucking load the instant the tip of him is inside you. He taps your clit, once, twice, lubing himself up as if he hadn’t moved around internal organs to make way for himself. He notches, then slides, white-knuckling his impending orgasm in favor of making this good for you. He steps farther between your legs, hands sliding from your thighs, up to your waist. He thumbs your nipple and your pussy twitches around him. He swears his heart flat out stops for a concerning length of time.

“How is a pussy this good all mine? All fucking mine?” He rolls his hips, pushing deeper, movements marionetted by the high-pitched whimpers and moans of your mouth. He could catalog every single one of them, has done so in the deep recesses of his brain, and it takes just a second to know when it switches from pleasure to pain. 

He bends over you, you choking on his dick, and kisses you hard, shattering the tense look on your face.  

“I love you,” he tells you, a secret that despite being well-known to anyone who sees him look at you, still feels precious and fragile. His hand plasters your hair to your sweaty neck as he kisses you desperately, speaking a language only you understand. “I love you so fucking much.” 

You sigh into his open mouth. “I wanna marry you, Fransisco Morales.” 

He is covered in gold. Dripping with it. 

His nails at your hip dig into your skin and you know exactly what you’ve done. 

“Say it. Say it louder, nena,” he snarls, face pressed into your cheek, and he thrusts forward with enough force to rock the table. The table legs squeak as you pin him to you one more time and nip at his ear. The last drop in the well, the rope slipping over the edge, the coil locked into place.

“I wanna fucking marry you.” 

With a breathy grunt, he yanks you down onto his cock by your waist and slaps your ass with his balls. It’s been a while since your cunt has taken a beating like this. You clutch at the edge of the table again, mouth torn open.

He knows you like it when he plays with your clit, and he will, but he needs to get this out of him. 

“Yeah? You’re gonna marry the guy who’s fucking your pussy so good right now?” It’s amazing that words escape at all through his gritted teeth, jaw taut. He watches as he disappears and reappears in you, your lips puffy and pink already but he needs more. He doesn’t want you to be able to walk out of bed tomorrow. 

“Yes, Frankie – oh, god, there, right there – yes, I’m gonna marry you.” He tips your hips up as he pounds down and you arch, crying out at the angle, the depth, how full you feel. He fucks like he’s trying to bruise your ribcage through your pussy. 

The thoughts in his head collide with the others, knotting together, blurring, until the only noise he can make, the only thing he can verbalize is the tight grunts, the hm, hm, hm, as he focuses on chasing this fire. 

He feels it approach so fast, he’s nearly taken under by the intensity of his orgasm so he slows, grinds instead, and with his eyes on your face, he cups himself around where he’s split you open, feeling your lips suck in and out with every thrust. 

He closes his eyes briefly, helpless against the waves of arousal that coat his fingers. He smears your clit with his thumb and his name is a split, jagged thing that burns your tongue. He wants that taste on his tongue again. 

You throb once, a sharp climax warming your pussy, and he backs out, drops to his knees, and licks you up again. He can taste his sweat there this time and he groans. His hands slip over your skin from the sweat in the crease of your thigh.

The cries from your mouth are wet now, on the curve of a salty tongue. You tremble like your orgasm is a physical thing, thrumming under your skin, warming your blood and you claw at his forearm. 

“B-baby, please–,” 

Wiping his mouth on your inner thigh, then licking up the mess he made, Frankie stands. He swats your bottom lightly, tutting. He’s a mad man, he knows it, he can’t tell if it's delirium from the rough ache of his balls or masochistic joy in hearing you beg, but again he rubs himself through your folds. It’s not the same, not nearly enough, but it helps last just a bit longer. 

“No crying until after I’ve made you come.” 

“I’ve already come twice,” you whine as you buck your hips, trying to take him in deeper. “You said I can have anything I want.” 

“And what does princesa want?” Yeah, there’s definitely something wrong with him. 

Your eyes flash as your nails dig into his shoulders, that fire he so loves to stoke flaring out.

“I want to come on your cock, Mr. Morales.”

And he unravels, divinity calling his name. 

His pace is slow, then rough, then deep. 

The table is just the right height. He balances on knee on the lip, bending your knees over his shoulders, and fucking down into you. He’s going to snap you in fucking half and maybe he does but he’ll be there to seal you back up again. 

Pour himself into you. Fill you. Make you whole once more. 

Baby, please.

The first drip of tears starts out the corner of your eyes as you come, open-mouthed, throat exposed, a cry loud and in the shape of his name tearing from your lips, your body locking up, cunt squeezing him until he feels himself burst. 

With a shudder and a groan, he spills, hot and flush into you. He comes, and comes, and comes, until his gooey spend is forced out of you and down the crack of your ass. He can’t see anything past the white spark in his eyes, feel anything but you and the tingle of his limbs. 

The excess of you and him is everywhere, leaking out onto the kitchen table, soaking the wood. There’s a ringing in his ears he can’t quiet. 

Your breath is hot on his neck, sweaty skin stuck tightly against his, he knows he’s crushing you, his arms given out at some point, but he really doesn’t think he can stand up right. He kisses your cheek by way of apology and thanks but you don’t seem to mind, your own gaze unfocused on the ceiling. 

“Fuck, Frankie . . .”

He laughs, realizes his legs aren’t working, so trembling and uneasy, he slides out of you and manages to make it to the floor. He blames the sudden dizziness on a lack of food and then blames the dizziness for lying down on the floor. 

His eyes flutter and somehow you’re suddenly curled up next to him, your palm resting over his pounding heart. His fingers find their way up into your sweat-damp hair, thumb gently rubbing against the knot at the base of your skull. 

“Your back is gonna be killing you in about fifteen minutes, sweetheart,” you grumble sleepily into his chest, a grin on your face. 

“I can’t feel anything below my waist right now.” He yawns. “So, we’ve got some time.” 

You nod, absentmindedly stroking the dark hair on his chest. 

“We need to talk about Pope’s birthday party this weekend. Will put us on drink duty . . . but I can’t really focus on anything right now.”

“Good,” he smirks with his eyes shut. “That was some of my best work.” And then he frowns. “You need to eat.” He pokes your side and you huff.

“Okay, if you’re awake enough to berate me, we can at least go to bed.” 

Groaning, you pull him up and he threatens to stumble you both into the wall, but he kisses your cheek and swats your ass, before snagging a tub of ice cream and a spoon. He meets you in the bedroom with the cap off and a smear of chocolate around his lips. 

You’ve got one of his shirts, grinning up at him from the center of the bed, and he’s torn about whether he likes you in his boxers, or nothing at all. 

You take the ice cream from him before he has a chance to flop down on the bed. 

“Not exactly a nutritious meal,” you mutter around the spoon and he turns his face from the pillow to glare at you. 

“That’s the other dinner I made for you, so eat.” 

Your giggle is all you can give to show your thanks.

He rolls onto his back, groaning theatrically, before tucking his hand behind his head, and his fingers coming to rest on his stomach. 

Behind the lids of his eyes, he can feel you watching him.

“What?” He grumbles, feeling around for your foot to pinch your ankle. He hears you move so he knows he’s close. “Not the right flavor, princesa?”

“No,” you laugh and prod his hip with your toe. “It’s just . . .”

His eyes open, finding yours in the half-lit gloom. You’re grinning the spoon in your mouth, eyes bright with something unnameable. You shrug, eying his hand between you both.

“I just never knew Fransisco Morales could be domesticated.” 

He wipes the chocolate off your chin with his thumb.

Yeah, who knew?

#frankie morales #fransisco morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales smut #triple frontier #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #frankie morales x f!reader

[andhumanslovedstories]

Does anyone have advice for getting over the embarrassment of speaking a language you aren’t good at with other people? I’ve studied Spanish, I know a little bit of Spanish, I am trying to learn more Spanish specifically for healthcare providers, but when I’m faced with an actual primarily Spanish speaking patient at my job, I get so nervous and tongue tied I’m like “maybe ‘buenos noches actually means I’m gonna kill you with morphine….i better stick entirely to English.” I know it’s the embarrassment! I don’t wanna sound stupid! And because so many of my patients understand a little English, I can usually muddle thru basic conversations relying on them. Which sucks! I feel bad about that! I’m like “I don’t want to talk in a language I’m not fluent in, so I’ll make them talk in a language I’m not fluent in.”

Also to be clear, this is all for stuff like “do you need the bathroom” or “do you want a pepsi from the kitchen.” I will always use an interpreter for anything more complicated than basic needs. But it’s a pain in the ass to use the interpreter ipad, and no one likes it, including the patients. It’d be nice to use it less and to be able to have more of a rapport with my patients. The foundation of my whole nursing practice is casual small talk with patients to learn more about them and their needs, and my Spanish speaking patients don’t get that.

(Neither do my patients who speak Russian or Taishanese or Vietnamese or but like. I don’t expect myself to learn every language in the world. Right now I just want to learn the language I theoretically kinda learned.)

I’ve been really working on pushing myself to try to speak more Spanish, at least a little bit, but I just have this mental block that I can’t push thru. It’s like all the social anxiety I’ve learned to otherwise cope with or moved on from settled entirely in my insecurity about my language skills. It’s nuts. Then I feel guilty about it which makes the block bigger which I feel guilty about, do you see the pattern here. Has anyone have any advice or resources? Not just for learning the language—I would also really appreciate those—but specifically dealing with this language embarrassment?

#nursing tag #language learning #spanish #it’d be cool to be fluent in Spanish and to use it for things besides basic questions at my job #but bare bare minimum I want to be able to be like te duele la cabeza? #learning spanish

[imagineastrology]

why the moon signs can be problematic 🫠

(this is a joke!! not to be taken seriously)

aries moon: scared of everything but will never show it lol. we can see through your act. angry at the world, even angrier at themselves. The world revolves around them so if you don’t agree with them, you’re gone from their lives without any consideration - beware!

taurus moon: self-centred. Stuck in their habits and patterns and will shun anyone or anything that tries to help them. Will blame you for their own inadequacies and self-betrayal. Has dreams but is scared of failure.

gemini moon: inconsistent and will not hesitate to hurt you with their words. The other twin will come out if provoked. If they don’t feel like doing something, they won’t do it, regardless of how you feel. Defensive and they know they are smart so if you make them feel stupid - you will be struck HEAVILY with a reality check lol

cancer moon: sensitive to the point of ….. Insanity.. Like are you even a human? Their affability can build you but they can also be just as cruel. Sometimes the world is not nice to them, so they focus on this, and make sure they give their bullshit back into the world :) thank you and please go to counselling!

leo moon: as they have learnt to be proud of themselves, they expect everyone to lean into their desires and wishes. Everyone has to reflect and work on themselves - you are not the only one! The world will not dim your light as much as your own stubbornness will.

virgo moon: not everybody lives by your rules so chill out and let people live their lives the way they want to. They feel inferior to everyone and everything and will justify this by pessimism, but they just see this as their reality. They will believe their own lies to spite you as it makes them feel more intelligent.

libra moon: genuinely scared of being alone. Can not be with their own thoughts for more than 0.3 seconds so they will consume anything that helps them block their thoughts. More intelligent than they let on…has the ability to be a very charming wolf in sheep’s clothing. They can be lazy and have a tendency to focus on the downsides to life.

scorpio moon: they feel the world is against them and that everyone is lying to them. Calm down - you’re not as cool as anybody else. They can make the energy of a room heavy if they wish to do so, even if they feel like it! They sometimes want the world to feel as alone as they do.

sagittarius moon: bullheaded and disrespectful to anyone that doesn’t see life the way they do. They will step on you to reach their own desires of power and status. They probably believe they are the smartest in the room so it can be difficult to have a debate with them.

capricorn moon: they are stressed 28 hours a day. Inside they live according to what duties they feel they have. Not everything is negative and this can be draining to them and everyone around them. Cold emotionally too and can turn icy when the world doesn’t fall to their feet and give them what they want.

aquarius moon: can be fake as **** lol. God complex too and they cannot hide it. Yall probably rely on many vices to help you get through the day. I would advise you guys to listen to people once in a while, you do not know everything. Lies for the fun of it.

pisces moon: yeah, victim complex to the max. Will turn on you to make you look like the perpetrator in any situation. Blames the world because they don’t want to accept that maybe they can cause chaos if their emotions aren’t in check. They can be cruel too, especially when you least expect it and definitely don’t deserve it, but don’t worry, they will come back to you and act like everything's okay!

Love yall really ;) - imogen

#moon signs #astrology #aries moon #taurus moon #gemini moon #cancer moon #leo moon #virgo moon #libra moon #scorpio moon #sagittarius moon #aquarius moon #pisces moon #love yall really #hehe #zodiac #astrology meme

[rendezvouz-fling]

Astro Observations #2

• I see Sagittarius venuses barely getting into relationships, they tend to get a lot more people just crushing on them trying to ask them out then actually being relationships. These people love hard too.

• Capricorn moon & Aquarius moon 🤝 bonding over emotionally/physically distant mothers.

• Fire mars 🤝 irritable explosions every 5 minutes.

• I’ve also noticed how Scorpio suns tend to rely on their friendships. Expecting their friends to be as genuine as them then being disappointed when their ‘friends’ aren’t there for them like they are.

• Having same element moons is very common with siblings but I’d say this applies to cousins too. E.g. I’m a 9H Aquarius moon and my younger cousins are mostly air moons while my older cousins are mostly fire moons.

• They say the sign in your 4th house is one of your parents’ big 3 signs and that is so true! My 4H is Virgo and my mom’s moon is in Virgo. 

• I noticed a lot of great Wattpad writers that I read books from are Virgo suns with Leo mercuries.  • What is it with Gemini risings and smirking at everything? • Scorpio risings are so cute!!

• Pluto-Ascendant people tend to have powerful presences especially if they’re shy! Oh and they have good stage presence too!

• I’ve noticed Scorpio risings tend to be attracted to Gemini risings’ playful personalities!

• Taurus risings are so charming! • Aquarius risings are so chill!

• Virgo risings are literally my other half <3

• 10H suns tend to hear a lot of “I’ve never told anyone this but…” from other people even people they’ve just met. • Aries suns with Aries mercuries are so fiesty & energetic! I love that combo lol.

• Aries suns are literally the only people that exude their placements. I feel like it’s easy to tell wether they have earth placements or water placements, etc…

• Gemini risings are always doing something. Wether that’s multitasking or just bouncing their leg when they’re sat down. Very nervous energy for no reason.

• Earth suns with Air moons are just flat out chaotic!

• I love Water suns with Fire moons, they’re so impulsive and funny without trying. And definitely not the type to get too emotional. But you just know if they’re happy or not depending on the energy levels lol. They tend to wear their hearts on their sleeves.

• Fire suns with Water moons tend to be head strong but overly emotional. Unless they don’t have water risings. They’re also very affectionate and caring. • I swear Capricorn mars are some of the most genuine people ever. They’ll make sure their siblings are doing good and if not they’ll try to help wether that be financially or etc.. They’re the types that wanna put their siblings/closest friends onto the best stuff and they work hard to achieve their goals.

• Nahh because my sister’s a Taurus mars and she literally used to say she wanted to marry a burger when we were like 10.💀😂 Then when we’d eat pizza she’d be like ‘Please don’t tell burger I cheated on him with Pizza’. 😭😭😭

• If you have your luminaries (sun/moon) at 18 & 22 degree you’ve gotta be one of the strongest people emotionally and you’re probably very logical despite your placements.

• Composite charts are soo important because I ran one on me & my youngest sister since we’d never really gotten along and tell me why we have a sag stellium?💀

• Leo rising in composite is literally my favorite rising! Me and my best friend of 6 years have this placement and the rumors are true.🌚

• Taurus placements in composite are really not about that area being sensual. It’s more about keeping things at common ground. Say if you have Taurus moon, it’s about balance between your emotional natures and yes it can be pretty chill. Taurus Mercury—if it’s at Aries degree (1, 13, 25) it won’t even matter because you WILL argue, a LOT. Just like Aries Mercury in composite. • Aries venus in composite is probably my fav! Everything is so genuine and playful. Literally that couple that is always teasing each other or their friends are teasing them about the other! And the emotions just flow open and freely.

• Earth moons in composite literally indicate relationships/friendships that grow with time or just go slowly. They’re also very satisfying if you don’t have a fire sun.

• Pisces moon in composite is so sweet! You both express your emotions, are affectionate towards the other and the union is rather calm. You might also share artistic interests and care for the other deeply. Even if you aren’t the most emotional people.

• Capricorn mars are so passionate and sensual, I’m genuinely tired of people just thinking they’re ‘boring’ especially in composite. Because they’ll make sure you’re enjoying yourself during the act and they’ll know just how to please you. 10/10<3

• Check your Venus persona chart if you feel like you don’t resonate quite well with your venus placement. E.g. my venus is in Pisces in the 10th House at 12 degree and while I do identify with that I’ve also kinda felt like an Aries venus at times. Well it turns out my moon in my venus pc is in Aries! • Capricorn mars can be so vindictive if underdeveloped! They’ll literally plot lol. • If you feel like you can’t really identify with a certain placement, check their persona charts. It’ll definitely help!

• This is just a theory I’ve come up with, but your favourite singer’s big 3 might be in your big 3/6 of your singer persona chart. E.g. my fav singers are Michael Jackson, Prince & Bobby DeBarge. And my big 3 in my singer pc are Gemini sun (Prince’s sun), Sagittarius moon (Bobby’s moon) & Virgo rising (Michael’s sun).

#astro community #astro placements #astro observations #astro posts #astroblr #venus persona chart #persona chart #rendezvous-fling

[rinstagrams]

roses. kita shinsuke x reader

“Wow.”

You say this aloud, voice not at all absent of amazement as you enter the classroom and greet your seatmate: Kita Shinsuke. But, it’s not Kita you’re looking at. Rather, you’re staring with wide eyes at the mountain of roses that has amassed on top of his desk, in every color flower imaginable. 

It’s Valentines’ Week at your school, and your high school offers cheap rose deliveries for sale: you can send a rose and a note to anyone of your choosing, whether it be a significant other, a secret crush, or just a friend that you appreciate. You clutch your single pink rose to your chest and make your way to your seat. The Mt. Fuji of roses on Kita’s desk makes yours feel small and insignificant.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, having the decency to look embarrassed. “Do you want me to move them?”

“No, no,” you tell him, sitting down in your seat next to him. It’s not surprise that he’s gotten this many. 

Kita is the captain of the volleyball club, even though you’ve heard people say that he’d never even been given a uniform before the start of this year. That didn’t matter to you; at his shy request, you’d gone to the Spring Tournament to watch them play. The way he moved across the court, saving even the most precarious of balls, was mesmerizing. His reputation also isn’t short of praise. He’s one of the top students in the grade and his sweet, polite charm is what draws everyone to him. He’s unobtainable to most girls, who have clearly relied on their rose grams to confess their admiration for him. But to you, he’s just your regular ol’ classroom partner. 

Well… you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive either. 

It doesn’t matter; he clearly has too many girls on his hands anyways. You’d hate to be another girl lost in that sea of roses piled atop his desk. 

As you reach into your bag to pull out your belongings, Kita questions, “You got a rose too?”

Yeah, you had. You purse your lips, attempting to bite back the smile on your lips. A pink rose, your first gifted rose ever, except the note attached to it had nothing but a little smiley face written on it. It was a pleasant surprise, one you hadn’t been expecting when you walked into school today. “Yeah, just one… I don’t know who it’s from, though,” you respond, feeling a sweet warmth creep up your body and rest on your face. Your mind runs wild with questions, wondering who would do such a thing, but you ultimately decide that when the time is right, that person will reveal themselves. 

“Oh,” replies Kita, sounding almost disappointed. Then, before you can even question his tone, he wears a warm smile on his lips once again. “Maybe that person will work up the courage to say something soon.”

“Hopefully,” you respond, a smitten smile dancing over your lips. 

“Pink roses symbolize love and admiration, you know.” 

“Do they?” Kita nods in response to your question. “Oh… that’s nice. How do you know that?” 

“My grandmother has a flower garden. I help with her arrangements sometimes.” 

The bell rings, signifying the beginning of class. As the teacher begins to pull together the attention of class, you nod your chin toward the stack of flowers on Kita’s desk. There must be at least forty piled there… “Maybe you can use those arrangement skills to do something with that,” you tell him, with a small laugh. 

Then, you turn your attention to the teacher’s announcements, but Kita’s eyes remain gently glued to the lonely pink flower on your desk. Yes, maybe one day that person would work up the nerve to confess.

In Kita’s eyes, it didn’t matter how many flowers he received; after all, he only sent one. 

#kita shinsuke x reader #kita x reader #kita shinsuka fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #kita shinsuke #hq fluff #hq imagines

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt from the one where Krypton lives and Kara did not sign up for this.

Only Kal would manage to get his DNA stolen on a planet called “Earth”, of all the godsdamned stupid places.

Might as well just be named “The Planet” or something, she swears. 

“All three it is,” Kara says, waving open her wall storage and grabbing her rice pot out of it. She only has the one because she's never had to cook for anyone else in her life, much less anyone who was staying with her, but she'll make it work. 

Somehow. 

Can't be any worse than pulling off mission-critical military maneuvers in shit conditions with untried and under-trained new recruits, she figures. 

. . . though she is admittedly more prepared for that situation than this one, if it comes to it. 

Look, that’s just experience, alright? She’s been on a thousand maneuvers and missions she didn’t have the resources for, but Kal doesn’t get cloned every day. 

Well, at least not when he’s not on incredibly uncreatively named alien planets, anyway. 

Kara dumps three times the usual amount of rice into her rice pot while Thirteen hovers just outside the kitchen and Match stands very, very still beside him. Neither of them says anything else, though Thirteen looks like he might want to. He seems to be the talker, from what Kara can tell. 

Or at least, he’s the one they’ve designated to be the talker. He asks more questions, and sometimes Match looks at him like he’s expecting him to ask a question. Even if they don’t necessarily get along, they seem to be cooperating at least that much. 

Well, it makes sense. They’re the only other successful Kryptonian-human clones that anyone’s aware of existing, and they know cloning is illegal on Krypton, and Kal isn’t here right now. Who else are they going to rely on when meeting a total stranger? 

Even a total stranger who is, technically, family. 

Or at least arguably, anyway. 

Her house communicator plays a familiar identifying little melody as she’s juggling her spheres of katso sauce and dried spygin in one arm while trying to dig out the last couple of bly fruit she <i>knows</i> she had shoved in the back of her cold storage, which admittedly is a bit cluttered with premade meals right now. Or . . . always, pretty much. 

In her defense, she really doesn’t cook very much. Or very well. Or . . . at all, really, when she can avoid it. 

She’s a grown woman and a decorated general, alright? She doesn’t need to cook if she doesn’t want to. 

“Accept call,” she instructs briskly, and the communicator’s holoscreen materializes to her side. Thirteen startles slightly; Match doesn’t so much as twitch. Doesn’t so much as breathe either, though, so she’s pretty sure he was startled too. At least, that’s the impression she’s been getting from the way he’s reacted to things so far. 

Avoided reacting to things, more like. 

“Oh, look who’s finally calling,” she says, eyeing Kal’s image on her projected screen. He looks just barely harried and the slightest bit sheepish, and she can see a dark-haired woman who’s presumably his new wife sitting behind him in his home office wearing peculiar clothing that is definitely not Kryptonian, but also doesn’t look nearly as indecent as what Thirteen and Match both showed up wearing. She seems occupied with a reader, and keeps activating and deactivating it like she’s never seen anything like it before. 

So probably the wife, yes. Lois Kal-El, née Sam-Lane, according to Kal’s previous calls. Though he also says that humans have slightly different naming schemes than Krypton does. And apparently more varied ones than Krypton does, too. 

Why Kal apparently made sure his grown wife was more appropriately dressed than the children were is beyond her, though.

#wip: krypton lives and kara did not sign up for this

[sashimiyas]

Message in a bottle

Summary: Suna admits he loves you again for the first time; part 2

Word count: 2.1k

Genre: ex-husband Suna and ex-wife reader; angst to fluff; Suna calls you a poop

Your first thought is: Suna.

Footsteps patter as you circle around your living room in a flourish of high knees and twirls. You end one phone call for another, squealing in your hand from the excitement. He answers you devotedly, expectedly.

“I got the job!”

“You got the job!”

“I got the job!”

“I knew you would!”

He matches your energy, triples the high, and makes all your insecurities disappear. This was a big promotion that skipped several rungs of the corporate ladder, far beyond your reach, but Suna vouched for you when you couldn’t.

It’s weird to be reminded of your value by an ex-husband. Your friends like to point it out whenever you mention him, as if ex-husband is an addendum to his name, but as the seasons cycled one over the other, so has your relationship.

You’ve done one full rotation from friends to lovers to strangers and to finally friends once more. By all means the transition wasn’t seamless and came with a learning curve quite steep, but the two of you are better off than even your first round of friendship.

“Let’s celebrate,” you offer without a second thought. “We should go out tonight. Fancy. I know we usually don’t do fancy but this deserves fancy!”

Where you expect immediate ascent, Suna stutters instead. That cracked, almost yes shatters something in your chest. It could be your heart but maybe it’s a rib because it feels like you’ve lost your breath. You stop circling your living room to lean against a wall.

“Oh, are you busy?” 

He hesitates, a single inhale answering you instead of words and now you can’t help but close your eyes in frustration. The descent from your high is slow, agonizingly so, as you bend at the knee to slide down to the floor before hitting rock bottom.

“You could have—” just the sound of your morose tone makes you choke. The disappointment should be familiar. After signing the divorce papers, you made a new promise to yourself which was to stop expecting anything from him. Yet here you are, committed only to the same mistakes of relying on someone you shouldn’t.

Falling into Rintaro is obsessive, a swallow into the deep. He makes it easy when the candid words people keep like secrets slip smoothly through his lips.

Maybe if you’d loved him a little older, when you’d learned falling in love is an ideal but being in love is the process, maybe then it wouldn’t have taken a couple of mistakes to whittle away from the foundation of your relationship. Disappointments were tallied like grudges and eventually, you two separated not even a year into marriage.

It took years of estranged meetings, secluded conversations when somehow the two of you were left alone in a room, and a couple of awkward phone calls when neither of you knew of anyone else to be vulnerable to to be where you are now and find that balance again.

Here you are once more, with the scales tipped away from your favor.

“You could have just said that.”

“The accounting manager invited me to this company event. I didn’t plan on going, but she asked and—”

“Ayame?”

He pauses, “yeah.”

“You could have said her name. I’ve met Ayame.” She never worried you but the fact that Suna decided to hide that detail does now even when it shouldn’t.

“Yeah.”

“So you’re going with her?”

“Is that okay?”

The instinctual answer falls flat behind gritted teeth. You want to say of course as if you even have a right. Maybe your friends should suffix your name as a reminder too with ‘ex-wife.’

“Why are you asking me? You know it doesn’t matter what I say.”

He hums a displeased sound. It makes you wince because you’re not quite sure you have enough restraint in you if he decides to push any further.

Gratefully, he simply changes the subject. “I still want to celebrate with you. You should have your day. Let me take you out to that one place we always talk about but never go.”

“No, I’m—”

“You said you deserve it,” Suna reminds, “and I agree.”

“No, it’s okay. I—“

“Quit being weird. Say, ‘Rin?’” he over exaggerates in pitch to imitate you, possibly clutching imaginary pearls. “‘Did you just agree with me? Who is on the phone right now because you’re not my ex-husband.’ And then I’ll tell you I ate him like Kirby. Then you ask me who’s Kirby—“

“I know who Kirby is.”

Suna disagrees almost a little too quickly, “nah, you don’t know who Kirby is. You know who Kirby is?”

“Yes! I know who Kirby is.”

“Well I’ll tell you about him anyways and educate you on 1990s Nintendo lore for the next fifteen minutes.”

You force a chuckle for his sake only. It convinces him because one more time, he says, “let me take you out.”

Relenting is the only option because Suna knows how to pick and choose his battles.

You can finally hear the smile in his voice, another surge of ache filling your chest when he asks, “next week?”

Next week comes but you’ve already made the necessary steps to isolate yourself from a repeated mistake. The gaps between texts gradually grow longer until you’re confident to leave him on read. Sometimes you’d call him after work just to update him about your day, but instead you change out that piece of your routine for a compelling new podcast.

He allows you to let go in grace, a clean rip versus the tattered remains of your past marriage and it’s rewarding to witness the growth.

Suna doesn’t even argue when your response to him asking what time he should set the reservations is think i have a fever. can’t make it

You think you’ve outdone yourself, unexpectedly content on your quiet weekend. The floor feels smooth as you glide your toes along it, swept and polished from earlier. Your new candle is burning and your blanket’s delicately soft and warm from the dryer.

These are the hobbies of an ex-spouse, independently involved from their ex-lover. Suna is only a passing thought when you imagine his face when he receives your message but you carefully tuck him away. Somewhere special. Somewhere far.

Unfortunately, your phone, though, is in your palm. It rings with a call from Suna. His name erupts a mess in your chest that you thought you’d cleaned. You throw your phone to the side, shove it into the cracks of your sofa so that it may muffle the sound. He calls again, followed by a flurry of texts, and then another phone call. Then eventually, silence.

You exhale a breath of relief. It’s clear now, that you have to move on. It’s a peace you’ve come to terms with.

Peace that is shattered by someone banging on your door. It’s only ominous for a second, heart racing, until it is accompanied by your phone ringing once more.

Apprehension tremors into your fingers as they clumsily reach for the device.

“Thanks for answering the phone,” Suna grits, “now the door.”

“I’m sick!” you throw in a dry cough for good measure.

“August 16, 2015. We used that same excuse to bail on Atsumu when we woke up too late from a nap.” He pauses for your reply but you don’t even know what to say. “January 3, 2016 we did the same thing to Komori. We told him you had a fever, sent him a picture of you with a rag over your head–”

“You did not tell me that!”

“–and everything. And then you actually got sick two days later and you said you’d never do it again because of karma. I sent you the pics if you actually read my text messages. I’ve got the receipts. That’s our excuse so tell me why you are trying to use it on me.”

“I’m not using anything on you!” You sniffle exaggeratedly over the phone, “I’m sick. Stop yelling at a sick person.”

“Prove it.”

Your face twists at the incredulous request, “how am I supposed to do that? Do you want me to slide my used tissue under the door?”

Suna chuckles. He sounds less mad, “no. Send me a picture of your outfit.”

“What?”

“You have a sick fit.”

“A sick fit?” There’s deliberate pauses between each word, enunciating them so Suna can hear exactly how ridiculous he sounds.

“You wear that dumb hoodie you got from a souvenir shop in Harajuku because they have the thumb holes on the sleeve and always a pair of fuzzy socks.”

It’s impossible not to huff, “you don’t know me.”

“Of course I know you,” he whispers, “you’re my ex-wife, you poop. So open the door for your ex-husband.”

“Poopy ex-husband,” you say, finally softening.

Suna laughs, “sure. Poopy ex-husband.”

Breathing feels easier now, as if without your even knowing, Suna’s resolved everything. There’s comfort in the fear, companionship maybe. So you take steps back towards him and open the door.

His typical, sharp eyes dart up to you when you do, analyzing your expression with a rigid jaw then dropping to check your attire. He smirks slightly while pushing his way in.

“Called it,” he says, celebratory. “I knew you weren’t sick.”

You can’t help but point out the bag of takeout in his hands, “is that soup?”

He’s nonchalant when he says, “contingency planning. What if you were actually sick? I’d be a dick if I barged in here and I was wrong.”

“You’re a dick anyways.”

“Maybe,” Suna sets the food down on your small dining table. You take a step forward, planning to continue the banter but there’s an intensity when he turns around that stills you where you stand. You shift your weight to the heels of your feet to escape the brunt of his stare.

“But you’re a liar.” He articulates the final word with accusation but cracks at the end. If he weren’t your ex-husband, if you didn’t know what he looked like at the altar and in front of a notary public, then you would have overlooked it. He’s hurt, clear in the crumbled edges near his lips, and you’re the reason why.

His pain swallows you to him. You pull him into an embrace that crashes the both of you onto the ground. He knocks his head against your chair but he ignores it to pull you in. His palm presses to the back of your head, pushing you into his chest.

“You should have just told me,” Suna rushes to speak, as if this moment could be swept from him at any moment. “I would have never gone with Ayame if it bothered you.”

You shake your head. Doing so, you dip deeper into his neck, “that’s not it.”

“Then what was it?” Honesty ladens his statement. Accompanied by the rocking motion he’s got the both of you in, it seems like he really wants to know.

“I got scared.”

“Scared?”

“We haven’t been acting very divorcey lately and I guess it scared me.”

He hums as he sways you for a little while longer. You situate yourself against him by tucking your legs to your chest. He presses you closer.

“I can send you divorce memes in the morning,” Suna offers. “We can threeway a phone call with our lawyer for the hell of it.”

You giggle, “you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Good,” he says. Suna leans down to press against the top of your head. It feels too close to a kiss, a whisper of it. “I like what we have now.”

You concur with a nod into his chest, burrowing your face closer to him.

“I get to love you in a way I’ve never loved you,” your heart suspends in both anticipation and dread because he loves you. They’re words that you’d both thrown away into the ocean long before you even divorced and not even this slow kindling of your relationship, whatever this may be, has ever given either of you the confidence to say it again. He just has and the sound of it makes you tingle between your shoulders. There’s excitement but also fear because just as he’s said, it’s not the same.

You yearn for more, unsatisfied with the faded edges of affection. It’s easier now to admit to yourself that you love him too. Though you’re not sure you’re the same as him. You love him.  You love him the way you promised you always would.

“What,” you shuffle against his hold and perch your chin against his collar bone. Your nose lands near his pulse. He smells of memories – of Monday mornings and midday meltdowns. He smells of everything in the in between that you can’t quite wrap around where he begins and ends. You swallow before finishing your words carefully, “do you mean?”

Suna tilts his head toward you. Bangs frame sharp lines in front of his eyes but aren’t enough to mask the intensity in his gaze.

He looks at you like an altar, vowing, “like how I’m supposed to.”

#reina.writeshaikyuu!! #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #suna rintaro #suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader #hi it’s been a while #idk how to tag and im so tired #but i met sea lions and cried out of happiness the other day

[drdemonprince]

something im kind of connecting the dots to re: your posts about shaming people who don’t wear masks…in ‘20 and ‘21 I spent a lot of time posting shaming instagram stories telling people they needed to mask, and i yelled at family until i was blue in the face bc they weren’t masking, having big weddings, etc. and it really created a rift (obviously) in my relationships. I’ve also spent a lot of time and energy in the past 4 or so years telling people that it’s not possible to be an ally to trans people if they still engage in any media created by jk rowling. Especially given that her anti trans manifesto has been cited in anti trans legislation in the uk, she says that she assumes that anyone who continues to engage with Harry Potter media approves of her transphobia, etc the list goes on. And yet i still see my friends going to the wizarding world of Harry Potter, marathoning the movies with their friends, going to see the new movies in theaters, and so on. Obviously my aggressive shaming posts and conversations (which have alienated a lot of people) aren’t doing jack shit. Your mask shame posts made me realize that it probably wasn’t right of me to do that. But I don’t see how I can stand up for what I believe in and show people that it’s not okay to keep doing this shit AND play nice and not create trouble. Do you have any thoughts?

Thanks for this great question and for sharing your experiences.

I think when we shame, part of it is a grappling with our own powerlessness. It feels terrible to confront that no matter how much we care, and no matter how much we plead, we cannot make another person take action. When people we love or rely on won't hear our pleas and won't take action, it wounds us so deeply, and it makes sense we react in anger or seek to shame them hoping it will make them care. But it isn't effective.

I think one of the first steps is accepting our powerlessness as individuals. We have to stop expecting ourselves to somehow persuade people to change their behavior and views, when all the research indicates that such change is rare, slow, and very hard, and cannot be accomplished on a person who does not already want to be influenced. We have to sit in the humility of not being able to make others care, and take time to grieve how badly it hurts. Our understandable and huge hurt feelings need to be processed. many of us have a powerful need to express our rage and have it witnessed by others who understand.

From there, we have to think very strategically about what kind of collective work we can do that will shift social norms, facilitate the behavior we want to see, and fight for systemic changes that will actually address the root issues.

This may be things like passing out masks at protests. Joining a local mutual aid fund to contribute to the expenses of people who are quarantining. Protesting an event space to make them institute a masking policy. Unionizing with our coworkers to demand paid sick leave. Shoplifting tests and redistributing them to people in need. Terrorizing the business leaders who dragged us all back into the office. Sharing the wastewater data. Asking loved ones about their COVID mitigation decisions in a sincere way. Organizing outdoor events for our communities. Paying for a buddy's vaccine.

There are countless ways for us to be plugged into an active community that is larger than us. The work is humble, and ongoing, and what you do personally will never be enough on its own, and you must accept that in order to believe that it does not have to be. We are in this together.

In short, I think the tough emotional realities of feeling disrespected and not cared for much be addressed by finding community with people who do care and will give us room to voice our outrage. And then we have to work together to create the circumstances that allow real systemic change to germinate.

Right now, people conflate that emotional need to express rage with the political need to take action. And what feels cathartic to do or say is not necessarily what's persuasive. There has to be room for both.

[thatdesklamp]

One Month Before Suguru Geto's Betrayal, 2007

My final satoru POV oneshot before the next intrinsic warmth update. Five is a nicer number than four, and I really wanted to put some more focus on Geto before I continued with IW canon. (This has been in the drafts for a while but I had a free half hour to clean it up a little and figured it was better posted than not posted. Enjoy!)

“You’re good for him,” Satoru hears you say, through the thin partition of the wall.

Satoru pauses outside the door. He wasn’t expecting to hear you: this is Suguru’s room, and it’s early evening on a Wednesday night, which means Satoru and Suguru are going to boot up a movie on Suguru’s shitty DVD player and watch it until one of them falls asleep. Which will probably be Suguru: he’s always falling asleep, these days.

Satoru has a thriller movie jammed under his arm, because he’s figured that it’s impossible for Suguru to fall asleep to something that’s meant to make you all tense and wired, and it’s the kind of thoughtful thing he thinks Suguru will appreciate.

“You think?” Suguru responds. His voice is quieter, muffled, like he’s facing away from the door.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

It’s you again. Satoru has his fingers on the door handle. They catch there, hesitant.

“Tough luck for him.”

“Geto.”

“What?”

“I’m not joking.”

“Well. Neither am I.”

Satoru’s fingertips slide from the door handle. He is very aware of how loud he is breathing, and how thin the door is. Satoru doesn’t move, wary that the floor will creak, and that you will know him from the sound of his footsteps.

“I’m trying to be nice here,” you say.

“You don’t need to. Just be honest.”

“Then I’m being honest.”

“No, you’re not.”

You let out a sharp sound, a quick exhalation of air. “Come on. This is a compliment. I wouldn’t say it to anyone else.”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious—Geto, what’s with you today?” Your voice is pitching up, questioning and quietly teasing. It borders on playful, and Satoru doesn’t know what to make of it. You never act like this with him. “Did you wake up cranky, or something?”

“Probably.”

Satoru doesn’t hear your reply, if you give one. He rests his forehead against the door, trying not to make a sound.

You’re good for him, you had said. You had to be talking about him—who else could you be talking about? You and Geto talk about things other than him, yeah, Satoru gets that. But who else would Suguru be good for?

It’s got to be Satoru. Satoru is Suguru’s best friend. Satoru is the most important person in Suguru’s life, and he knows it. He likes it, being that important to someone who is so important. And it’s not as if Suguru isn’t just as important to him. It’s Suguru. Satoru has never had to think about why he’s so important to him: it’s always been obvious, and accepted, and he’s never needed to justify himself to anyone.

You had said it. Why?

“Would you really not say it to anyone else?” Suguru murmurs.

His voice is quiet, so quiet Satoru can barely hear him. The low scratch of his voice is familiar, from all those times Satoru would sneak into his room after curfew, when they’d stay up and talk about any of their wild ideas until the sun made them squint and blink. Satoru would steal the bed, but Suguru never minded; he would sit splayed on the room’s desk chair, or lie down on the floor and look up at the same ceiling as Satoru, or he’d go cross-legged at the foot of the bed, pretending not to notice when Satoru prodded him with his toes.

Those nights, especially in their first year, were the moments Satoru really began to understand Suguru, right to his core. He hadn’t known what to expect from him, back when he was just Suguru Geto, child prodigy, and when Satoru was assumedly just Satoru Gojo, heir to the Gojo clan. And then when you stopped talking to him, just a few months before his sixteenth birthday, Satoru came to rely on those nights more than he ever had.

Satoru would walk into a room, and your conversation with Shoko, bright and friendly and cheerful, would fall quiet. You would look at him with such hatred, and such sadness, and you would turn your back on him, just like how you had promised never to do. Satoru hated your silence more than anything, but he knew he would always have Suguru, and Suguru would never let their silence fester.  

They would talk until their voices were hoarse, because Satoru had never met someone so intrinsically similar to him before. He and Suguru disagreed, but he could feel the underlying rush of recognition permeate every conversation, and so even in their disagreements he could only see their likeness. Satoru devoured every word, because every word led him closer and closer to confirming what he was desperate to know: Suguru was the same as him. Suguru is the same.

Satoru has missed their evenings together. He’s knocked on Suguru’s door, but he hasn’t had it open to him in a while, not the way it used to, every night, without question.

Satoru has wondered if Suguru’s getting to be an insomniac, because he looks so tired all the time, like he hasn’t been sleeping. Satoru figured that him knocking on Suguru’s door in the middle of the night, every night, was probably the thing keeping him awake, so he’s stopped.

“I just said so.” Satoru tries to picture the scene: you’re leaning against the headboard of Suguru’s bed, arms crossed, attempting to hide your impatience with Suguru. Suguru’s a good distance away from you, because he’d have to be, since you’re still not comfortable for Satoru to be close to you anymore, and so Satoru decides Suguru will be sitting on the end of the bed, or, more likely, on the desk chair, or on the floor. You’ll be rolling your eyes, but trying not to. Something alights inside Satoru’s chest, fond. “And then I said I wasn’t lying.”

“I guess not.” Suguru chuckles to himself; it’s not his usual laugh, which is loud and broad and compelling, the laugh Satoru hasn’t heard for a long time. It’s more subdued, and it sounds meaner, somehow. “I figured you were playing dumb on purpose.”

“That’s not really me,” you say. “You’re thinking of Gojo. He’d play dumb for the attention: I wouldn’t.”

“Satoru would.” This time, when Suguru laughs, the mean tinge has softened. He sounds, just for a moment, familiar. “Yeah. You’re right, he would.”

“Course I’m right.”

“Now you do sound like him.”

“Oh! Oh, don’t! You’re so mean to me!” You let out a loud gasp, a touch too overdramatic for you, and Satoru realises a second later that you’re imitating him. He presses himself closer to the door, eager to hear. “But Geto, don’t you remember, I’m the—shit, what did you call me? Ages ago? Do you remember? The… like a snake charmer—”

“The Satoru whisperer.”

“Yeah!” Suguru laughs again, but you’re smiling: Satoru can tell that you’re smiling, from the roundness of your voice, the endeared tone you can’t get rid of. Satoru isn’t even offended that you’re both comparing him to a snake. You’re smiling, and Suguru is laughing.

You’ve made Suguru laugh. Satoru’s memory—his perfect memory—reminds him with the emotionless cruelty of his six eyes that it has been two months, one week, four days, since he has made Suguru laugh. He remembers the moment, the day, the joke he had made.

“I’m the Gojo whisperer. The Satoru whisperer.” Satoru’s heart stumbles. “That’s my real cursed technique, Geto, did you know?”

“I didn’t. Take off the gloves, then.”

“No.” Your laughter fades, naturally, and then with a dull thud. “Nah. I’ll keep them on.”

“I guessed as much.”

“Yeah.” There’s the sound of bedsheets rustling, and your long exhale, and then the soft scuff of fabric on fabric. Your gloves against the itchy blanket Suguru keeps on his bed: you’re fiddling with it. You’re nervous, or you’re thinking deeply about something. If Satoru could see you, he would know which it is.

“Still.” You continue, with a touch more hesitation. It surprises Satoru: you haven’t been tentative for all of this conversation. Why would you be now? He’s struck with the fear—fear?—that it could be Suguru, making you nervous. Suguru’s expression, dampening your mood, making you doubt your words. Satoru tries to brush it off.

“What is it?”

“It’s what you said.” You trail off. Then, when you next speak, it’s with the hard set your voice gets when you’re striving for manufactured confidence. “Why’d I be playing dumb? Telling you you’re good for him—or that you’re the only one?”

The conversation holds, and Suguru doesn’t say anything. It stretches long enough that Satoru, impatient to hear Suguru’s reply, fears that he’s missed it, if Suguru responded in a whisper he couldn’t catch.

But then Suguru clears his throat, and says: “Because, Hebi, it’s obvious you’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You are. Of course you are.”

Lying? Satoru shares your confusion, and his brain races to provide answers. This cryptic thing is something new that Suguru’s been trying out, and it doesn’t suit him. Satoru has always liked his friends honest: it’s why he likes you, and how blunt you can be, even when you’re pretending to insult him.

“About which part?” Yes! Good question, that’s a good question: which part? That Suguru is good for Satoru, whatever that means, or that Suguru is the only one who is?

But, no—he doesn’t need Suguru to answer! Satoru comes to the answer before Suguru has decided how to phrase it. It’s the second, of course it’s the second.

Of course Suguru isn’t the only one. He never has been; he’s just been different, a different facet to the desperately necessary friendships that Satoru keeps close to him. There’s you: you, his longest friend, the only person who has seen every shade of him and still wanted to stay. You: his first, his only, his best.

Thinking of you, Satoru understands what you had meant, when you had said that Suguru is good for him. Because you’re good for him, too—you’ve changed him, him and his life, and Satoru could not be himself without you by his side. He knows, because he’s lived it.

Satoru is still fresh from your absence, when just last year you were still cold and distant. Satoru had hardened into someone he hadn’t liked, and he has only been able to thaw now you are back with him.

So of course it’s the second: of course, everyone knows it’s not only Suguru. Suguru isn’t the only one, not when Satoru needs you, too.

“Both,” Suguru says.

Satoru can feel his heart contract.

“Oh.” You hum. “How have you figured that one?”

“Well. I know why you’d think you’re right—I shouldn’t have said you were lying, that wasn’t right. But we’ve changed a lot, all of us. And I don’t know how much Satoru needs me anymore.”

Anger flares up, hot and fast. What is Suguru blabbering on about? Of course Satoru needs him!

Why is Suguru saying all of this with some straight face—Satoru knows what Suguru sounds like when he’s being honest, and he’s being honest now, but Satoru keeps waiting for the punchline. Seconds pass, and Satoru hears the tick of every single one as they go, and he strains his ears for when Suguru will laugh again, and say he’s kidding, that of course he knows Satoru needs him.

“I know what you mean,” you say, quietly, and Satoru’s blood curdles. He goes completely still, even as his heartbeat thumps in his ear.

You know that he needs you. You know he does.

A flash of bitterness—how many damned times does he need to tell you, before you get it? He tells you all the time, he laughs with you and has never shared a conversation with you in which you haven’t been showered with compliments, all of them genuine. What can he do, then, if you don’t believe him? What more can he say?

And then it subsides. The hot spike of cruelty fades, and Satoru is left with a gaping hole in its absence.

“Maybe it’s an age thing. Us getting older.”

“It could be.”

“You don’t think so?”

Suguru pauses. A beat. “I think you’re good for him. Not me, not anymore.”

“You are. You just don’t see it, but you are, more than me.” You say the final word—me—so dismissively, almost with revulsion. Satoru cannot comprehend how you could think of yourself like that.

“I know what you think, and why you said I am. But it still doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

“You make him better.”

“You’ve far surpassed me in that skill, Hebi.”

“I can’t give him what you can.”

“Neither can I. Not what I used to be able to.”

“No. No, Geto, you don’t see it.” Your voice picks up, and it sounds like you’re about to say everything, to finally be open as well as honest—and then you sigh, quiet and small again. “It’s different, with you. You’ve got something different with him.”

Suguru laughs that mean laugh again. “It’s interesting you still think so.”

Still? Satoru waits for you to echo it yourself, for you to insist Suguru gives you an answer. The conversation isn’t complete, and it’s unsatisfying and vague and Satoru can’t stand it. He wants you to ask for more. But you don’t: you don’t push, you don’t pry. You hold yourself back, and let everything remain unsaid.

Satoru can’t ask Suguru himself. Suguru will not be this honest with him, even though he’s been so equivocal with you.

“It was meant to be a compliment.” The words come out in a whisper, like a child at a sleepover.

There’s that rustle of bedsheets again, and Suguru says, kinder this time: “I know.”

“Yeah?”

Suguru must nod, because you let out a soft huff of breath, small and trying at laughter.

Satoru stands there, his forehead still resting against the wooden door. He only realises when he opens his eyes that he’s had them squeezed shut: his glasses have been pushed down his nose, and even though it’s late in the evening, the dim light is blinding. Satoru straightens, his mind full and thrumming and painful, and adjusts the lenses.  

“Hey.” Your voice: Satoru knows this voice. You are strong, with this voice, and so gentle.

He remembers being eleven, sitting on warm wooden stairs with the orange afternoon sun blazing behind your head like a halo. He remembers the realisation that you would die before him, that you knew, and that you accepted it. He remembers the blazing look in your eye, when you told him he would never be alone when you were still living with him.

He remembers crying in front of you, how much he’d hated it, and how much he’d wished you would take his hand and hold him.

You had comforted him with this voice. And, now, you comfort Suguru.

“You’d tell me,” you say, so tentative and kind, “if there was something wrong. Right?”

“Yes.”

“You would? Really, Suguru?”

“Yes,” Suguru repeats. Then he chuckles, blows out some air, and you squeal.

“Hey, you—!”

“Everything’s fine,” Suguru says, as you both laugh, and as your laughter dies down. “Seriously. Sorry if I’ve been short with you lately, it’s just the heat getting to me.”

His voice is light but genuine, and when you reply, you’re echoing his tone. “You sure, yeah?”

“I’m sure. I promise. Why, did you want to pinkie swear on it?”

“Oh, you’re a bastard. Maybe I will. Take my gloves off and turn your fingers into ash, see how you like it.”

“It sounds intriguing.”

“Ew.”

“Maybe it’s like a hot stone massage. Have you ever thought to try?”

You scoff, and it’s rich with the same affection as when you laugh with him. “Geto, you’re really weird.”

“You might have mentioned that.”

“Might I? Yeah, no, I think I have.”

Satoru doesn’t want to listen anymore. He pushes the door open with too much force and it bangs on the wall opposite, whining on its hinges. He feels high on adrenaline, and he doesn’t know why, but it’s the rush he gets when he’s in a fight and tastes blood.

You look up. Suguru looks over his shoulder. “Oh. Satoru, hey.”

Satoru stares at you two. He’d thought—he’d thought you’d be sitting apart, that you’d have insisted on distance between you and Suguru. You insist on it when you’re with Satoru, and he hates it, because it shows that you still don’t trust him after what happened in the Chapel, and that you’re still not properly friends again. But you and him are still much closer than you and Suguru, so—

Why aren’t you far apart? Why is Satoru standing in the doorway, staring at you and Suguru lying on the same bed, lying down next to each other, both on your sides, facing each other, only, like, actually only inches away from each other?

You’ve discarded the duvet on the floor, but you’ve draped Suguru’s shitty itchy blanket over both of you, and you’ve got a section of it wound between your fingers. You’re fiddling with it, like Satoru knew you would be. But it’s only a single bed, and you’re close to Suguru—actually, weirdly close, closer than you’d let Satoru get. And that’s him! He’s your best friend, not Suguru.

“What are you doing?” Satoru asks, before he can stop himself.

You prop yourself up on your elbow and give him a small wave. Your body had been half-obscured by Suguru’s.

You open your mouth to answer, but Suguru cuts in, dry and sarcastic: “Finishing some intense, passionate lovemaking, Satoru. What do you think?”

Satoru reels back, even though he knows Suguru’s just being a dick, teasing him. Satoru gives him a warning look, and Suguru holds his gaze, undeterred. He doesn’t know if Suguru’s bringing it up on purpose, or if he’s just being cold—Satoru had told him about the dreams he keeps having, and he wishes he hadn’t, because Suguru hadn’t said anything helpful about it. Not at all the way Satoru’d hoped he would, because he’d just given him an uninterested look and told him not to tell you about it. Which, yeah, obviously Satoru wasn’t going to. That wasn’t the question he needed answering.

Satoru looks back to him. Suguru’s hair is down. It’s like pen ink, the way it spills across the white of his pillow. Suguru raises his eyebrows at him, and Satoru knows his face has been burning scarlet.

You snort, and drop yourself back down on the bed.

“You haven’t finished next week’s essay, have you, Gojo?” you ask, placing a gloved hand over your eyes and letting out a tired sigh. “I was going to make Geto help me with it, but he distracted me, and I’ve only just remembered about it. Eugh.”

“Distracted?” Satoru’s brain goes on autopilot, and he clocks what he’s saying whole seconds after the words leave his mouth. “Hey, that’s not some innuendo is it, Hebi-Hebi? Have you two been holding out on me?”

“What? Oh, right. The passionate lovemaking.” You laugh, amused and tired. “Yeah, you know me. Number one playboy right here.”  

“For sure,” Satoru says, playing along. “I feel you could be a player, you know, if you went and got yourself a boyfriend sometime. What do you think?”

His eyes flick between you and Suguru. He doesn’t have a name for the boiling feeling rising up in him, but it’s got him flushed and out of the loop, and he dislikes it vehemently.

“Probably not anytime soon,” you say. Satoru notices Suguru’s lips curl, knowingly, and he almost blurts it out right here, that he knows Suguru knows something, and that he needs to know it too.

“Hey, never say never.” Satoru shakes it off. He tries to: the boiling feeling stays simmering, and he still can’t squash it, no matter how much he wants to. But Satoru is excellent at ignoring and pretending, and so he does, and turns to Suguru. “Yo. Movie night. I’ve chosen a good shitty one, yeah?”

Satoru thrusts the DVD case in front of him. Suguru’s eyes flicker on it for a second, and then he leans back.

“I’m pretty tired, Satoru,” he says. He rolls onto his back, his hair ink on the pillow, his dark eyes closed. “Can we skip this week?”

“What?” Satoru blinks. Then his face contorts into a scowl, and he grimaces down at him. “What do you mean, tired? It’s Wednesday night. I’ve picked us a movie.”

“I could do with the sleep. Next time, yeah?”

���But—”

“You have been looking tired, Geto,” you say, standing. “We’ll leave you be.”

You send him a look, but Satoru ignores it. “No, we won’t.”

“Gojo—”

“C’mon, Suguru,” he urges. Satoru crouches down next to him, so their heads are level. At the proximity, Suguru opens his eyes, and turns his head so he can meet Satoru’s gaze. Satoru sends him a grin. “C’mon. Movie night. You won’t remember you were tired when you’re thirty. Movie night, come on.”

Suguru watches him. Satoru swallows.

It’s not just his eyes that are dark. There are heavy bags around them, deep-set and puffy. Suguru’s cheekbones are gaunter than they used to be. His gaze has been losing its warmth. He even says his name differently. Satoru.

Satoru has asked. Suguru doesn’t let him in. Suguru doesn’t think Satoru needs him.

For a split second, Satoru wishes you weren’t here: if it was just them, maybe Satoru could admit that he’d heard it all. Maybe he could grab Suguru by the shoulders and shake him, and then he’d force sense into him, and make him realise that yes, Satoru needs him, that Satoru needs him desperately and that Satoru cannot imagine carrying on without him. Maybe Satoru could say that to him.

Maybe he will. But Suguru just quirks him a smile, and waves him off. “Nah, honestly. I’m tired. I’ll get an early night, and we can do something later.”

Satoru is not used to being dismissed, but he has learnt what it means now, after all these years.

“Yeah,” he says, brightly. “For sure. Next week.”

Suguru hums, and Satoru tries not to read it as non-committal.

He avoids your gaze as he ducks through the door. If he looks at you, or lets you see his face, you will be able to read every emotion flickering through him. Better than himself: Satoru doesn’t even know what he’s feeling.

“I’ll walk you back,” you say, as you shut the door.

“Great.”

“Yeah. Hey, Gojo, I’ve got a DVD player in my room. I can watch it with you, if you really wanted to see it.”

Yeah, sure.

Will you let me get that close?

Satoru wants to say it, biting.

As close as you let him get? Both of us, on your bed, inches away?

Will you do that again? Will you do that with me?

Will you?

He looks down at you, ready to spit it out.

Satoru falters. Your smile. The small upturn of your lips, the gleam of your eyes, the warm glow to your skin in the evening light. You’re smiling up at him, and Satoru knows you better than anyone; you know that he’s upset, and that this boiling feeling is going to burn him alive, and you’re trying to make him feel better.

You know him. You want to spend time with him.

Satoru lets out a breath, and feels the tension, heavy set in his jaw, leave him. He looks back to you, to your shy hopefulness, and there’s that rushing feeling, that affection and fondness and warmth all rushing together.

“Now, if you insist,” Satoru says, grinning broadly down at you. “I know you’re desperate to stay in my company, Hebi-Hebi, but you don’t have to be so obvious about it! But, I guess I’ll let you see it with me, if you really want to.”

Your eyes shine. “I’m glad I can. Thanks, Gojo. Come on.”

#intrinsic warmth #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo fluff #gojo angst #satosugu #ish and also not really

[nightowl374art]

Do you think that there was anything between gwen and hobie? Don't get mad just curious

There was lot between Gwen and Hobie and it’s all platonic. (Some of the best relationships out there are platonic tbh)

They’re good friends in my eyes. Compare Gwen’s relationship with Miles to her relationship with Hobie and you’ll see the differences. Even she said so. From my perspective, the whole crashing in Hobie’s dimension and leaving her sweater and toothbrush at his place, and wearing his chucks thing means literally nothing if you’re just friends with someone. Real friends don’t often feel weird about how comfortable they are with each other, like they’re crossing some imaginary line between friendship and love. I think that’s why Hobie was pretty transparent about their relationship in front of Miles—because there’s no romantic feelings there. Gwen said herself Miles would like Hobie because in her eyes, Hobie is a good friend and she would like Miles to experience that for himself.

And sorry if you didn’t sign up for all of this but if I were diving further…

After Gwen left her dad to join the spider society and she realized it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be (and she couldn’t visit Miles, the one reason she even wanted a dimensional watch) I’ve no doubt she was pretty depressed. I think she needed a friend and she found some refuge in Hobie—she was able to relax around him, have fun with him because he’s laid back (not judgmental) or constantly expecting something of her. It’s obvious Gwen feels weighed down by everyone else’s expectations of her. She’s held to a standard she can’t keep up with. Miguel sees her as a loose cannon, thus never wanting to rely on her. Jess immediately condemns her whenever she makes a mistake and shows little to no understanding. And we all saw what happened with Captain Stacy. Jeff and Rio had certain expectations and made snap judgments when they were not met. Even Miles himself had expectations (rightfully so). But it’s stressful to feel like you can never screw up or let anyone down. That’s a heavy burden for someone to bear alone, especially as a teenage girl who hasn’t really come into herself yet (trying to define who she is in the eyes of others.)

So in my opinion, Hobie was the only comfort Gwen had during her time in the spider society— a good reliable friend she could count on. A fun and helpful companion during their missions together. He gave her a place to stay when she needed it. (If that ain’t friendship I don’t know what is). He’s about the only person she can be completely authentic around because he himself is authentic. Hobie has that kind of rebel/doesn’t-give-a-fuck older sibling that’s already been through it and has gotten to the other side. He won’t let others dictate his worth and he chooses how he wants to live his life. I know Gwen admires that—she’d love to be that kind of person too but she’s not there yet.

Like everyone, Gwen has flaws and Hobie knows that, but he doesn’t use them against her. He chooses instead to see her potential. She was never made to feel like a failure around him. Hobie is an ally to the society rejects, “the outcasts” if you will. Just look how he helped Miles. Not to mention the fact he made Gwen a watch so she could go fix her mistake (again seeing the potential in her). Hobie is always there to give a hand up when people really need it most. People like Hobie are some of the truest friends and I think Gwen is very lucky to have him on her side.

In conclusion, Gwen and Hobie have a solid relationship and it’s something I admire. But I saw absolutely nothing romantic between them.

#spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #thoughts #hobie brown #gwen stacy

[tarotbydelilah444]

♌️✨What Does Leo Season Have In Store For You?

hi guys! welcome to Leo season & happy solar return to all the Leos out there. I’m a Leo moon. Hope you enjoy the reading and don’t forget to like, share, and comment what pile resonated for you. As always, sending you love and light✨🤍 - Delilah pile one ✨

crystal for leo season | tiger’s eye

message for ♌️ season | butterfly | you will definitely be going through some major changes and transformations during Leo season, regardless if you expected or didn’t expect it. It’s time for you to change and grow because the old chapter no longer fits who you are in this current moment. Change is necessary in order for us all to grow, even when it feels uncertain and scary. You will be a brand new person in the end. Remain hopeful.

Some of you will be getting into sound healing. You should try out Reiki to help you balance your chakras and even balance your mind, body, and soul. Balance will be a big theme for you, as you could be trying to release certain things in your life that no longer serve your highest good whether it be people, places, or situations that knock you off balance. I see you building strength to fight back against anyone and anything that may have gotten in your way. You will be determined to protect your energy from anyone or anything that tries to destroy your peace. You will be focusing on what brings your strength and stability. You could also find yourself focusing on your outer appearance more than normal. If you been wanting to work on your body, this is your sign to create a workout plan, join a fitness program, take a workout class , work with a personal trainer, or create  your own workout playlist from home to do. Make goals for yourself and track your growth to help you continue your journey. Don’t be afraid to challenge yourself. You will be going through changes, but it’s in your highest favor. Old cycles are closing and new cycles are ready to began, once you accept this change. Everything will be working out in your favor. The universe is on your side and guiding you towards your destiny.

health | you could be a bit disorganized when it comes to your health. Your emotional health could be controlling you at this time when it should be the other way around. You may have a lot going on at the moment and it’s affecting your mental health. You are overextending and exhausting yourself to the point that you cannot think straight. You need to create a routine that can help eliminate any distractions, stress, or anxiety that you may be dealing with. Focus on the things that are within your control and leave the rest. Some of you could be relying on substances/addictions to help you deal with your issues and this is only hurting you. Try taking a break from these distractions and seeking out help from a trusted friend, family member, or therapist. Also slow down, you could be overindulging in too many at things, only you know what it is.

career & finances | make sure that you are making good financial decisions. Don’t spend your money on things you don’t need or that won’t be valuable down the line. This is not the time to make bad investments when it comes to money and career. Do your research and ask for a second opinion before making any financial decisions. You are waiting to see if you will get approved for something (new house, new car, or a new job). It will likely work out in your favor, so give it some time. If you already working, I see that you will be evaluated and watched closely by your superiors to determine if you are capable for a promotion or higher position. Make sure that you are doing your part and do it well because you may get rewarded for your efforts. If you have been slacking, it’s time for you to reevaluate your priorities and get your shit together when it comes to your professional life and finances.

love | you are being asked to take charge of your love life and make the first move. Don’t be afraid to be vulnerable and express how you feel towards your love interest. Make your intentions clear, so there is no room for confusion. You are seeking stability and commitment when it comes to matters of the heart. If you are single, you will be meeting someone that is older and mature. This person will be able to grant you stability, commitment, and longevity, if you are open up to the possibility. This person seems to know what he/she wants and they expect the same attitude from you.  If you’re dealing with an ex partner, I see that they have been thinking about you and may come forward soon or contact you. You may not trust this person and believe that they have bad intentions. Always trust your intuition. For those in relationships, if you and your partners have been having issues, I see it improving and the both of you will be bringing stability back into the connection.

channeled messages | April (the month/name), someone is sending you evil eye, karma is coming, family issues, Aries, Scorpio, Pisces, Taurus, Leo, Aquarius, and Sagittarius, piercings, glasses, phone number, new phone, new number, incoming phone call or text message, following your destiny, marriage, and commitment

pile two 🌻

crystal for leo season | pyrite

message for ♌️ season | feather |

be honest with yourself. There is somewhere in your life where you haven’t been upfront. You are not being honest about something or this could be someone being dishonest with you about something. You are being asked to speak your truth and give the gift of honesty rather than lying or keeping secrets. the truth will set you free.

Connect with crystals. You guys will be working with crystals or collecting crystals. You will be working with crystals to help you set intentions for yourself or to attract opportunities towards you quicker. Start working with beginner crystals and learning their meanings and their benefits. Use your crystals during your meditation practice, in your home, your car, or on your physical body to absorb the energy you pick up in your surroundings or that can correspond with a specific chakra. You guys could also be budgeting and paying more attention to your finances and expenses in Leo season. Set money aside for expenses in one account and money for minor inconveniences and emergencies expenses. Make sure that you are being responsible and wise when it comes to your finances. For some, you could be wanting to come up with new ideas to generate more money. You could want to start a business and you are researching and creating a business plan to make this happen. Also, work with crystals that are associated with money and prosperity. Use pyrite, tiger’s eye, green aventurine, and citrine. You will be emotionally fulfilled in Leo season. Be ready to be happier than you possible can imagine. Be open to receiving any and all blessings that are coming in for you. You will be feeling more secure and at peace than before. You will also be feeling balanced, creative, and playful during this time. Enjoy it!

health | you will be discovering that you are pregnant in Leo season. So if you needed confirmation, here it is and congratulations in advance. For some, who have been trying to get pregnant, this may be a good time to start trying again or you will be receiving a miracle from the universe. Be gentle and patient with yourself, continue to take care of yourself because your wish will be granted soon. For others, this could be an unexpected pregnancy and you are deciding to keep this a secret for now, it would be wise to tell someone close to you for you to get the help that you need. For others, it may be time for a health checkup or you need to make some improvements in terms of your health. This could be exercising more, eating healthier, and avoiding unnecessary foods. Try to prioritize your health by starting a self-care routine, or making improvements in your self-care routine to help you stay focused and consistent. You will see results over time, if your remain consistent with your regimen.

career & finances | you could be waiting to hear back from a new job or a position that you applied for. The news may be a bit delayed, but you will get the job. If you are applying for a new job make sure that you do your research before applying for the job. This would be a great time to make any changes and improvements to your resume, if you need to. If you are looking to start your own business, it would be a great time to create a business plan and research methods on how to start, manage, and promote your business. Be open to advice and learning new things. When it comes to your finances, you need to make sure that you are paying attention and being mindful of your spending and your expenses. Make sure that you are reading over your contracts or agreements before making purchases or making any financial decisions. Some of you could also decide to go back to school to receive better job opportunities.

love | you are being asked to be patient when it comes to your love life. The universe is crafting the perfect person for you and will deliver this individual in divine timing. You are being encouraged to focus on what you need and want from your partner. Don’t force or rush a connection because you want to hurry up the process to find love. If you are a partnered up with someone, I feel like this person is a divine counterpart and you will be balancing out the connection if there has been any issues or misunderstandings. Love is about balance and harmony, so work things out with your person.

channeled messages | starting a family, building/buying a new home, soulmates, June (month/name), short, someone still talks about you to their friends and family, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Virgo, Taurus, Aquarius, Libra, and Gemini, a truth/news being exposed, rewards from the universe, making amends, red hair, straight hair, secrets and hidden information, clarity, profitable new ideas, and angel number # 111

pile three 🦁

crystal for leo season | citrine

message for ♌️ season | lion | believe in your power. Do you believe in your inner power, so why aren’t you standing in your power or embracing your power. you are capable of accomplishing anything that you put your mind in. You need to start believing in yourself and stop looking for outer validation from others. Be your own cheerleader.

Make sure that your are prioritizing your health. If you have any health issues make sure you are addressing these concerns with your healthcare provider. Some of you should go in for a health checkup to make sure that you are in perfect health, so schedule a doctors appointment as soon as possible. Remember that health is wealth. Start to prioritize self-care. Show you body some extra love and care, if you have been feeling overwhelmed and being abandoning your needs. Try taking a long relaxing bath to help relieve any stress that you’ve been holding in your body. I feel like you guys have been ignoring your body signaling for you to take a break and relax. Honor your body, mind, and spirit by showing it some well deserve tender, love, and care. You will be in a much happier and better place in Leo season. The cloudy days are over and the sun has shined again. All your worries will soon dissipate, and be replaced with happiness, joy, peace, and clarity. Everything will be working out in your favor and will be getting better. You will be glowing and radiating, after a period of sadness and this will attract others to your optimistic and radiate energy.

health | pay attention to your mental and emotional health, as it’s affecting your physical health. Some of you could be dealing with depression, anxiety, or the aftermath of a traumatic event. Make sure that you are reaching out for support if you are struggling. It’s okay to grieve and process your emotions but accept help from others. You don’t have to do it alone. For some, this could be an issue related to your heart. This is the time to listen to your body and give it what it needs in order for you to stay healthy. Limit the amount of stress and give yourself some time to recuperate and recover. Stop feeling guilty for taking care of yourself first.

career & finances | your finances will be more than fine in Leo season, so there is nothing to worry about. Your finances will continue to increase and you will be financially stable. Everything will be a success in terms of your finances and career, as your hard work and efforts have paid off. Continue to be smart with your investments and generating more wealth for yourself. If you have been struggling with finances, I see that your money worries will finally be over, as you can be receive support from others and your hard work will be paying off, so keep up the good work. you could even receive an advance or promotion to a leadership position.

love | your love life might be a mess at the moment. If you are in a relationship, you and your partner could be arguing and in conflict with one another. There is too much pettiness and ego involved and it’s affecting the connection in a negative way and it’s causing lots of unnecessary stress and headaches for you both. If you want this connection to work, try communicating with your partner and discuss what is the root of the issue and work towards fixing it. Don’t let ego and resentment break up this connection, if you and your partner still desire it. If it becomes too much, it may be time to go your separate ways. If you are single, you need to stop self-sabotaging in terms of love, you want to be loved or be in a relationship, but you keep running away from it because you are afraid to be vulnerable or to be hurt. Love is a risk and if you want it, you have to be able to take that risk. There could be a new beginning in love, it’s up to you if you want to take the risk. You should continue focus on healing any traumas you may have experienced in past connections to avoid unpacking it in new connections.

channeled messages | summertime, springtime, Leo, Capricorn, Taurus, Sagittarius and Virgo, green eyes, jealously, new beginnings, ignoring your needs, spiritual awakening, dark night of the soul, heart problems, sacral chakra, lighter complexion, blockages, be generous, treat yourself, counseling/therapy, learning your triggers, clarity, creativity, and setting boundaries

pile four 🧡

crystal for leo season | yellow aventurine

message for ♌️ season | deer |

bring gentleness and grace in every aspect of your life. You need to be more gentle and kinder to yourself as you go through your healing journey.

Clear your energy field. You have a lot of negative or unwanted energies that is living in your aura and energetic field. Remove and release anything that no longer serves your highest good and only invite things that you want into your energetic field. Make sure that you are protecting your energy and cleansing your energy regularly. Work with cleansing tools such as crystals, sage, palo santo, or simply meditate or shower. Dancing can be a way to eliminate any energetic blocks in your body. Feel free to allow yourself to be free and dance, no matter how embarrassing it may be or how self conscious it may make you feel. Have fun. Consider taking a dancing class, go out to a club, dance for your partner or with friends. Just have fun and let your creativity run wild. You will be feeling very abundant and in your divine feminine energy. You will be catering to your own needs, but you will also be open to others wanting to cater to you. You will be embracing your softer and more feminine qualities by tapping into your emotions. You will attract people by your loving and compassionate energy. You will also be prioritizing your self-care and self love to attract things and people to you. You will also create something that you invested a lot of time and effort into.

health | anxiety and fear could be ruling your life at the moment and this is affecting your mental, emotional, and physical health. You need to confront these feelings or emotions that is keeping you stuck in fear. Try journaling or talking to someone about your feelings, as they are valid. You could be fearing the worst possible outcome, which may only be in your head, but it could manifest into reality if you don’t confront these issues and fears right away. You are being asked to release these blocked emotions before they poison your body and become hard to deal with. You may even benefit from a chakra cleanse.

career & finances | you may have to make a choice when it comes to a job, whether you want to stay or go find something better. Don’t be afraid to step out your comfort zone and try something new if you been wanting change. Take your time before making a decision, but don’t take too long or you’ll miss out on opportunities. Weight your pros and cons. Some of you could have to travel for work or whatever you decide to do in terms of career and finances will require a partner to help you achieve your goals. You will also be gaining stability in your finances, if it was an issue in the past. By allowing growth and expansion, your finances will improve.

love | love is in the air, if you are single. Get ready to meet someone that you will have a loving and harmonious relationship with. You and this person will be inseparable and have a lot in common. There is a mutual love and respect for each other. This will be emotionally fulfilling and exciting connection. You will know who this person is because you will feel connected to them before you even meet them. If you are in relationship, expect for you and your partner to become even closer and your bond becoming stronger than ever before. Lots of affection and time spent together. It may be a chance that your person may propose to you to solidify this connection. If you are in separation with someone, this person misses you and is thinking about you a lot at this time. There may be a chance for reconciliation and to rebuild the connection.

channeled messages | Latina/Latino, Leo, Scorpio, Taurus, Libra, and Aries, root chakra, solar plexus chakra, and third eye chakra, darker complexion, blue eyes, protection, soulmate connection, creativity, soft-girl era, new hobbies, project, stop looking, choosing between your comfort zone and something new, 222, connecting to your inner wisdom, and stepping into your power

#pac reading #channeled messages #spirituality #astrology #pick a card tarot #tarot #crystals #channeled song #leo season #pick a pile #alexa demie

[lilies-n-slander]

Hazbin Hotel would be so much more interesting if charlie’s naïveté and surface-level kindness were treated as the actual flaws they are and didn’t work. Heads up, this kinda just turned into a text wall of charlie neg and ranting so don’t read if you don’t want to see that.

How she currently is, she just doesn’t make that much sense in the setting. I’ve seen ppl say that charlie is a fresh take and contrasts the edginess, but I just don’t see how she is possible. You’re telling me she’s been in hell for 200 yrs but still has this childish and naive personality, is still disgusted by the sinners being cannibalistic, violent, and even just horny, and is so detached from those she calls “her people”? She was born in hell, shouldn’t that make her more used to the sinners’ depravity and not less? She doesn’t seem to have a good grasp on what the sinners want or how they behave. It would make more sense if the show leaned into the toxic positivity white savior nepo baby angle (or rather, actually portrayed it as a *bad* thing) and rather than naïveté, her ignorance was out of self-centeredness and/or lack of true empathy for the other sinners. She would be more interesting as a character too imo.

She looks down on the other sinners (and honestly so does the show?? When she’s showing lucifer around and introduces him to her friends, they’re framed as unappealing as a joke… these are the characters the audience is also supposed to care about.. and many of the bg chars, such as the cannibal town residents, are portrayed as simple-minded brutes), there’s a lot of condescending “….ooookay” type of lines and she constantly has to think of nice ways to frame the clearly negative things she thinks about others. So why does she want to save them so much? The more reasonable explanation is a sense of white savior-ness than actually caring about them.

She’s eager to excuse whatever sir pentious did (which I’m assuming she doesn’t know?) and let him in, despite how he makes the other residents (including her own gf!) uncomfortable. And yes I say excuse, because she never inquires about his past sins or discussed him repenting. It seems to start with sorry, but also end with sorry too. This could’ve been made interesting if she simultaneously looked down on but also excused all sorts of heinous acts. Like val is the most openly manipulative and scummy character, he licks her arm, and yet she’s still apologetic about ruining things (Side note, if she’s genuinely apologetic, then she’s actually an idiot because why is she talking to the boom-mic employee *while they’re filming???*).

She doesn’t know what she’s doing and has no concrete plan but gets incredulous at ppl who don’t blindly trust her. Angel has to leave in ep 4 and she gets SO frustrated over it, like you seriously expect everyone to drop all of their other commitments for you? She has her webster definition notecards for the meeting with heaven and has to improvise and rely on angel being good at the club but she gets mad that lucifer isn’t 100% behind her plan?

Also, trust falls? Really? Then she goes “why isn’t this working? We’ve tried everything!” But on that note, the actual episode portrayal is kinda exactly what I’m going for. Not only do the trust falls not work, charlie says, “I love all of you so much,” pulls her puppy eyes, and only vaggie catches her. It’s surface level and shallow, and does not win anyone else over.

In contrast, vaggie’s attempt at building trust, throwing everyone into a battle, *actually works* (despite vaggie only being in hell for 3 years and being heaven-born, she already knows how things work better than charlie!) and yet charlie talks about it as though it already failed. She says “we work best as a team,” with the underlying message being “I can’t trust you to do things on your own.”

If she was waiting so long to reconnect with lucifer, then why hasn’t she called him in years?? Altho I’m currently rotating lucifer in my brain so I might be a bit biased

“If angels can do whatever and stay in the sky” they can’t?? Your dad is RIGHT there. I. What

She has a power dynamic with every other character except lucifer since she has her demon powers, not to mention she’s giving them a place to stay. When vaggie says she appreciates that charlie doesn’t use her powers, charlie doesn’t say “it wouldn’t be right,” she says it would be too *mean.* But if someone pushes her buttons, who’s to say they wouldn’t slip out (see her flip on a dime after val hits angel. Obv it’s justified in this case, but it shows that she’s willing to use her powers on sinners)? Again, it would be interesting if the show actually leaned into this angle. Imagine if she put on a nice front, never swore, seemed genuinely touching and understanding, but the second someone annoys her she annihilates them and becomes threatening and violent. Then she turns around and is nice again. Too much like alastor? idk

Also, many characters refer to her by calling her lucifer’s daughter, so clearly ppl know that if they cross her they’ll face his wrath by proxy (this also fits in thematically with what lute tells her in the first episode, that she’s exempt from the exterminations bc nepotism privilege). So realistically, everyone else would be a bunch of sucking-up yes-men bc they’re afraid of her. Which they kind of are when push comes to shove?

At first, she doesn’t help at all during the war and lets everyone else fight for her. Doesn’t want to get her hands dirty ig, even though all of this was caused by her in the first place. She only starts fighting at vaggie’s urging.

Like husk points out, every meeting charlie has with the angels makes things worse for all the sinners. Despite lucifer’s warnings that the meeting with heaven won’t work, and against vaggie saying to calm down, charlie basically picks a fight with heaven at the risk of *everyone else EXCEPT HER.*

What were charlie and lilith doing to stop the exterminations before lilith took her 7 year leave? Hell, what was charlie doing during those 7 years? Why does she have 0 connections outside of vaggie, who she only met 3 yrs ago? Why does she have to introduce herself to rosie, rather than her already knowing her name?

Also in ep 7 she says to alastor “I can’t believe how you can do exactly what you told me you would do!” (standing by and watching everyone fail at redemption) almost like she wasn’t paying attention to him at all.

“Why would vaggie hide that she was an exterminator” -> Rosie asks “how did that make you feel?” “It made me mad and doubt if she loves me” like I get it, it was a betrayal, but IS she stupid

Ready For This is charlie manipulating a town of ppl to join the army. Her pitch includes “on the way to the hotel the scenery is nice and you can make friends :3” and “have you ever wanted to die for a cause? Notably I myself am spared from being killed but uh that’s your problem.” Alastor pipes in that you can eat the angels and that’s what actually moves the crowd, because he understands them.

Her perspective on violence and where she chooses to draw the line is really confusing. Why does she care about sinners being violent to each other if they’ll just respawn? She stops alastor from beating up sir pentious at an arbitrary point, but is fine with him eating and presumably killing the gangsters who come after mimzy. (Edit: forgot to point out yet another example, that she was fine with vaggie tossing sir pentious and angel off the balcony but stops her from tossing niffty as well for no reason.) Why is she so apologetic to the angels actively killing sinners but was distraught over vaggie having partaken? Why was she opposed to the CANNIBALS being eager to eat the angels and saying “idk, they seem kinda murder-y” WHAT. What? I’m struggling to even begin to describe how ignorant that is during a WAR. What did she think was going to happen, that she wouldn’t have to fight anyone herself? Why did she stop her dad from killing Adam but doesn’t react strongly to Niffty finishing the job? If it mattered so much to her, the lack of reaction seems strange to me.

Isn’t it just so poetic that her weapon in the war is a shield that she uses exclusively on herself, which she hardly even needs due to her contractual immunity?

Why doesn’t she think to use her powers to build and maintain the hotel? That doesn’t require any violence or domineering. Yet when lucifer comes over it’s run-down and falling apart. Or ask lucifer to help her build it? She was concerned that asking for the meeting with heaven was such a big ask—why not start with this small thing? Father-daughter bonding.

Why does the show end w lucifer + the sinners congratulating her, and in particular, rebuilding the hotel? Hell doesn’t know that sir pentious got redeemed, so from their pov charlie’s idea didn’t work at all.

Can you tell that I’m writing this while I’m rewatching the show?

Aaand that’s that. Her char has always come off to me as somewhat condescending/fake, but I keep finding more and more things to dislike about the way she’s been written. Unfortunate. Honestly tho I might enjoy watching her more if I read her through this lens. You could probably write a similar post for most/all other chars in the show, limited only by the amount of screentime they get lmao

#ps it would have made a bit too much sense for the character fucking named ANGEL to be redeemed at the end of the season #he was the one charlie was making her entire case about in ep 6 #like sir pentious was never brought up #and angel was one of the ogs of the hotel #and had ep 4 #but ig the show thought better of it #rewatching the pilot and angel would’ve been so much more interesting ;u; he’s so one-note now… #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel #meta #charlie morningstar neg #honestly with lucifer as my blorbo I probably shouldn’t be shittalking charlie #he’d annihilate me #sorry man I just want your daughter to have a bit more confidence… yeah that’s it #.txt

[anthracite-writes]

Obey Me! One-shot; Personal Maid Cafe Service

Leviathan x gn! reader || SFW || TW//CW: uses male termonalogy [ uses the term "Bulter" insted of maid and once use of the word "Handsome" but thats about it] - General Summary: Working your usual shift after school hours to earn a bit of grim on the side at one of the popular maid cafes in the Devildom, you are requested by one of the guest - not expecting who you would meet on the other side of the private room door.

NOTE // I want to shoot my shot at a one-shot fic so why not? Sorry in advance if the story seems choppy and doesn't flow correctly. It's my first time in a long time attempting at short fiction and writing in second person - this might be a one time thing for writing second person for one-shots. Let's just say I'm using this as a little exercise to ease myself back into writing these type of stuff. again, sorry in advance if this isn't a good one shot.

You were in the middle of checking out a group of guests you were assigned to for the day, waiting for them to finish with their transaction at the counter, fidgeting with the sleeve of my uniform slightly as you started to zone out a bit - wondering what the brothers were up to back home. “Y/N, you got requested in private room 3B. It’s Party of one.” one of my co-workers said in a hushed tone, squeezing past you to grab a couple menus, “Well, not exactly requested by name - but they requested a ‘butler’ to serve them.”

“I’ll see to it then, thanks for the heads up.” You said softly as you heard the transaction go through. You flash a smile at the group of customers, handing them they’re recipe upon their request and wishing them on their way.

You step away from the counter and grab the menus and head to the hall lined with doors in the back of the cafe, straightening out the dress vest and fixing the tie of the butler uniform you had to wear in a subtle manner, occasionally greeting guests as they passed you. It wasn’t usual that a guest would request a butler as their server for their experience in this maid cafe, hence the lack of ‘butlers’ in this location. Or any other maid cafes for that matter. It was extremely rare for maid cafes in general to even have any other gender than female employees since more often than not these themed restaurants are more directed to the male demographic. It was extremely lucky you found this job listing on the bulletin in the House of Lamentation. And it did pay extremely well, which you was happy about as well, no longer needing to rely on the allowances Lord Diavolo gave you as the human exchange student at RAD.

I finally reach the room I was assigned to, closing my eyes and taking a breath as you hyped yourself up to entertain another guest. ‘okay… here we go again.’ You put your hand on the door knob, going in without even looking who you were serving though the fully glass door, just wanting to get this private room guest done and over with. Going into the room, you flash a smile at the guest. “Welcome home, masterrrr…” Your words dragged as eyes widen at the sight of the guest, the guest equally as surprised - hearing the Avatar of Envy start to stutter from his usual nervous habit.

“Y/N… I, um.. Er… H-hi…” Leviathan stuttered, his cheeks going red as he flustered up. Both of you were in the same boat, way too stunned to speak from surprise and shocked.

“Hi…” you’re voice trailed, closing the door and pulling the privacy curtain over it, “You can’t tell anyone I work here-”

“Please! You can’t tell my brothers, they won’t let me live it down!” Levi begged, cutting you off mid sentance before looking away from you as he fidgeted with the sleeve of his jacket you usually see him wear around the house when he’s out of his room.

The two of you stared at each other, awkwardness filling the air before you finally spoke, “Okay… I won’t say a word about you being here if you don’t tell anyone I work here."

Levi nodded feverishly in response, happily agreeing to those terms. You take a shaky breath and continue with your usual greeting, walking over to the table and putting down the menus.

“Welcome home Master. What can I start you off with for drinks?” you say, looking at him with a soft smile.

Leviathan’s cheeks became a darker shade of red as you spoke and only worsened when you smiled at him, “Please um… can you just call me by my name?” He requested, looking at you nervously.

“It’s kinda my job to call you 'master', Levi… you of all people should know that.” You say with a soft voice, trying to put the shut-in sitting in front of you at ease.

“I-I know that much, Y/N… it’s just…” Levi trailed off though, trying to find the words and trying to not mess this up, “It feels weird hearing you of all people saying that to me…” he averted his eyes from yours, focusing on the menu in front of him.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh, “Well… I do remember you talking about how you want to have the full maid cafe experience one time, so allow me to help you with that experience. Again, it's part of my job. It’s kinda a requirement.” You reasoned with him, straightening out your uniform, fixing the gloves on your hands to make sure they were taut against the shape of your hand.

Levi bit his lip,  “F-fine… I guess it’s fine…” he mumbled, his tangerine orange eyes looking up at you, looking at your uniform then meeting your gaze. “Uh… I um…” He began to fidget, his eyes starting to avoid you and looking pass you.

“Levi, take your time. Don’t push yourself too hard. I’ll wait,” You say with a soft tone, folding your hands in front of you.

The demon nodded slightly as he took a breath, “Can I get water…? Please?” His voice trembled, looking up at you at the corner of his eye.

“Of course master, I’ll leave you alone with the menu and I’ll be back with your water.” You turn on your heels and walk to the door, looking over your shoulder as you take hold of the door handle, checking on the lavender haired male you were serving. He was looking down at the menu, occasionally looking up to see if you’ve left before averting his eyes back at the menu. You couldn’t help but just smile a bit, you can see he’s trying to push himself to be more social and you couldn’t help but feel for him, you take a breath before you exit the room.

~~~

“Um, Y/N…?” Leviathan chimed up, getting your attention, walking over to his side.

“What can I do for you, Master Leviathan?” You say, looking lean down slightly as you wait for his response.

Leviathan’s cheeks rosy up from how close you were to him, clearing his throat a bit before he spoke, looking up at you from where he sat, “I… uh… I just wanted to tell you that I uh… I think your uniform looks nice…” he said through stutters, “y-you look really handsome… I mean! I, uh…”

You felt your face heat up from his comment, letting out a soft chuckle from the flattery, “Thanks, I’m quite fond of the uniform myself.”

Levi cleared his throat again, “A-anyway, I figured out what I want to eat…” he said, showing you the menu and pointing at what he wanted, you can see that his hands were trembling from all the nerves he must be feeling. You simply responded with a nod, pulling out the pocket note pad and pen from your pant pocket, taking note of it. “I’ll be right bac-” “Y/N… can I make a request of you…” Leviathan cut you off, immediately getting flustered, “S-sorry! I didn’t mean to cut you off! I- um…”

“Leviathan… Master, it’s fine…” You say, looking at him with a soft expression, “You’re the one in charge here, remember?”

The demon gulped down hard and nodded, “R-right… well um… is… it possible if you can um… if you can stay here… with… with me?” he stuttered, his gaze averting away from you as he fidgeted the hem of his shirt.

“Of course master, I’ll just put in your order first if that’s okay. I won’t leave the room, I’ll do it remotely, okay?” You said with a smile, turning and walking away from him, making your way to the tablet on the wall next to the door, putting in his order as the room fell to complete silence - the sound of you tapping on the screen the only thing audible.

“Um… Y/N?” You hear the male behind you call out.

You let out a hum in response to let him know you heard him, “Yes? What is it, master?” you call back, sending the order off to the kitchen.

“Can… can you sit with me?” He requested, looking down at the table as his leg shook. You turned around, seeing how anxious he was. Without a word, you walk back to the table and pull out the seat across from the male, sitting straight up, hands folded in your lap. Levi looked up at you wide eyed as if he was a deer in the headlights, not expecting you to accept his request. “Are… you just doing this to make me happy…?” He mumbled, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

“No, I’m doing this out of my own free will. I don’t usually accept these kinds of requests when I’m on the open floor area of the café since it’s kinda against the rules. But in private rooms, those rules don’t apply but I still have the right to reject requests. Besides, I’ll happily sit with you. “Though, I do have something to ask you if you don’t mind.” You add.

Leviathan looked back at you, his eyes softening, finally relaxing his nerves after all this time, “S-sure… I don’t mind, what is it?”

“Why… Did you request a butler server? Were you aware I worked here?” You asked, seeing Levi immediately start to fluster up.

“No! It’s nothing like that, I knew you worked - I just had no idea you were working here!” He raised his hands in protest before sighing, putting his hands flat on the table’s “I-I was just curious is all… nothing else to it. I wasn’t expecting to see you in such a place… dress up like…”

“A butler?” You said through a chuckle. Leviathan lips curled slightly in a small smile as you finished his thought and nodded.

“Yeah, you can say that…” he said with a slight chuckle in his tone, “Is… it okay if I request something from you again, Y/N?”

“You don’t need to ask every time you want to give me an order, you know? You say though a chuckle. Leviathan’s cheeks turned red from your words, a slight pout on his lips.

“Well… Is it okay if I request that we share what I ordered?” The demon asked, looking away from you as his face deepened in colour.

“Like… you want to split your meal with me?”

Leviathan looked at you then looked away with a slow blink, “Yeah… I mean, there’s nothing to it! I… I just assumed you’re kinda hungry and dinner won’t be ready by the time you get off your shift.” He muttered under his breath, yet loud enough to hear his reasoning, “You can say no, I’d understand… why would you want to share food with a yucky otaku like me-”

“I’d be happy to take you up on your offer, Master Leviathan.” You say softly, cutting him off. He looked at you with pure shock, his orange hue eyes glistening with silent joy as he processed what you just said to him. After a while of silence he gulped, parting his lips as if to say something to you only to be shut down by your pager going off.

~~~

You step out into the busy streets of the Devildom, letting a sigh of exhaustion from finally getting off your shift, you sling your bag over your shoulders and turn in the direction to go back to the House of Lamentation, stopping in your tracks as you see the familiar otaku waiting outside the cafe, his back against the brick wall as he scrolled through his phone. “Levi?” You call out to him, getting his attention. A faint smile forming on his lips when his eyes meet yours.

“Hey, Y/N… you’re finally off the clock?” Levi says with a slight stutter, putting his phone away in his pocket and pushing his back off the wall and walk over to you, hands in his jacket pocket in an attempt to look cool.

“How… have you been waiting out here?” You said with a chuckle, seeing the shut-in’s pale skin slowly turn red at your question, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked down at the stone streets.

“I uh… don’t get the wrong idea, I was just passing by after visiting a couple shops to pre-order stuff and just window shop, ya know?” The lavender-haired male said through stutters, shoving his hand that he was rubbing against his neck into his pocket again. “I just… wanted to stop by, see if you were done with your shift and I um… I…” His eyes slowly drifted back to you, the small smile on your lips while you listened to him speak made his face heat up even more, and it didn’t help you were still in your work uniform - adding onto the cuteness factor to him. He takes a deep and shaky breath as he closes his eyes, trying to relax himself, “I… was wondering if you’d like me to walk back to the House of Lamentation… “But not in the cliche-normie ‘I want to walk home with you because I like you’ way… just for convenience sake! Since we’re both heading home now.” He added, eyes wide and cheeks red as he tried to reason.

“And what makes you think I want to go directly home?” you say in a teasing manner, Levi's posture stiffening up at your words at his face deepens with colour. Leviathan started to stammer and stumble over his words, unsure how to answer. You let out a soft chuckle, walking past him, nudging him playfully. “Come on, let’s head home.”

Levi’s eyes brightened and he swiftly joined your side without hesitation, keeping pace with your steps so the two of you were walking side by side. “It… it was nice to hang out with you after school. Just the two of us I mean, even if you were working…”

“I liked it too, it practically didn’t feel like I was working at all.” You said with a smile, continuing to look forward as the two of you walked down the streets leading back home from the shopping district of the Devildom. Little did you know, Leviathan was looking down at you from the corner of his eye, admiring how you looked in your uniform - reminding him of some animes and mangas he’s read, you looked almost like those characters to him.

“I… um… Maybe I can come by again, so we can spend more time together and all…” He suggested, scratching his neck out of habit when he felt anxious.

“Well, personally… I wouldn’t mind if we hung out after I finished my shifts and when I get days off.” You suggested in a casual manner, Levi taken back by your words.

“H-huh?! You would want to hang out with a boring shut-in like me?” He questioned you, looking at you in surprise with a hint of joy glimmering in his eyes.

You nodded in response, “I mean, yeah. I know that going out to a place like the maid cafe I work at is quite nerve racking with your social anxiety and all so… how about I suggest this. “I can let you experience a maid cafe in the comfort of your own room. I do know how to cook and make a couple things on the menu and I don’t mind wearing my uniform for you. That way we can spend time together and you can have the maid cafe experience whenever you want to. I’d be like… your personal butler in a way.” You looked up at the Avatar of Envy, awaiting his response. Levi’s face cheeks were dusted with pink as he thought, looking back at you with a slight smile.

“I.. I would really like that, Y/N. Thanks…” He said with a smile, “Well, as you are my ‘personal butler’, is it only to make a request…?”

You let out a soft chuckle as Levi immediately went with the idea, “Sure, go ahead.”

“Can… can I hold your hand while we walk home?” He said, his voice trembling before he shook his head, “forget I said anything, why would someone like you want to hold hands with an otaku like me? It was a dumb question, you don’t have-”

Without saying a word, you bushed the back of your hand against his before taking it gently in yours, gently lacing your fingers in the spaces between yours. You felt Leviathan stiffen up slightly then relax, his hand gently taking yours in return, a small smile forming upon his lips, knowing this was just the start for you two. The start of a friendship about to bloom.

#obey me leviathan #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me leviathan x mc #leviathan x reader #leviathan x mc #leviathan x you #leviathan x gender neutral reader #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #x reader #gn!reader #m!reader #obey me x male reader #obey me x gn!reader #obey me x mc #obey me fluff #obey me angst #obey me sfw #obey me brothers #obey me demon brothers

[beemochi-art]

Omg I love this already-

Can you do 22, 34, 36 for jazz and prowl plz!

22) Jazz has a pretty clear love language. He can’t seem to keep his hands off Prowl, or be very far away from him. Jazz loves touching and kisses. Very cuddly. Prowl is Jazz’s safe space basically. He will also bring him energon cubes even if prowl already had one. Or he’ll pour some of his into Prowl’s cup.

Prowls love language is letting get away with all this All the public affection and invading his personal space. Anyone else tries even a quarter of what Jazz does would get snapped at. But with Jazz he not only lets it happen but welcomes it. Sometimes Prowl will tell him it’s too much, but that’s rarely. Prowl also likes giving gifts, is hard sometimes tho when Jazz is like, “I don’t want anything but you .” Sigh, lingerie shopping it is. (Prowl feels silly putting that stuff on but Jazz loves it.)

Their shared love language tho is messing with each of. Intentionally stepping on buttons to get a reaction. (Playing essentially.) when mess with each other it’s never huge it’s just little things like, prowl taking Jazz’s food right in front of him or Jazz licking Prowl directly in the face. (Both of these things I’ve draw.) jazz is not easy to annoy or get a reaction out of and no one would ever expect Prowl of doing anything fun of the sorts.

Fundamental they are both two very different people. But their differences complement each other. Prowl has loosened up a little and Jazz has someone he can rely on when he’s upset rather than bottling up emotions.

34) When Prowl is upset he goes looking for Jazz. Some how Jazz’s cuddling and cooing always makes him feel better. When Prowl is scared or distraught he’ll cling to Jazz like a lifeline. It’s Prowl’s tern to be the clingy one.

When Jazz is upset he’s not hugging or any of his usual antics, he’ll still seek out Prowl but will just sit next to him, letting Prowl close the distance.

When Jazz is really upset or worse really angry. He won’t go to Prowl at all. Prowl obviously goes looking for him, he knows something’s up when Jazz is no where to be seen. When Prowl does find him, he doesn’t touch him or ask him what’s wrong. Prowl instead says to him, let’s go to the track or gym. anywhere to get the excess energy out. Jazz doesn’t say anything but follows Prowl there. Prowl will burn energy too sure, but this is for Jazz. And when Jazz is finally done he’s shaking and breathing hard. But finally he’ll open up and tell Prowl what’s wrong. Sometimes Jazz will completely crack and not even say anything but go to Prowl and cry, finally they are hugging, maybe later when when emotions aren’t so high will they talk, but now all Jazz needs is comfort.

Jazz is an emotional wreck and no one’s knows but prowls.

When it’s not at all a big deal. He’ll act like this.

36) Jazz is more protective. He will fight. Sometimes it’s annoying to Prowl.

Prowl knows Jazz is very capable of taking care of himself, so often times Prowl will let him handle it. But if it’s a jab at their relationship or it ultra Magnus is taking it too far. Prowl will step is and the yelling starts, if you think you can out yell and out bitch prowl. You’re wrong. Jazz will be behind him with the biggest shit eating grin. When Prowl gets done with the verbal ass whooping, he’ll take his lunch break early, all while holding hands with jazz.

When they are both in battle, they are pretty good at avoiding major damage, but they’d take a bullet for each other any day.

#transformers #my art #ask game #asks #jazz #prowl #jazz prowl #prowl jazz #Forte-verse