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#i truly have no clue what to tag this as
saintchaser · 1 year
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darling (@wolfstarmicrofic)
"would you like to get married someday?" remus asked, half of his body bent outside the window, taking a long drag of his cigarette. "you know we can't do that legally, but something being illegal has never stopped us, or you, for that matter."
sirius grinned. "if you want that. that does come with sacrifices, though. i can almost imagine james crying through our vows."
remus laughed, rich and warm like honey. "oh, my mum will be all the same. she'll be dabbing her eyes the whole time, and so will euphemia. they're going to be clinging to each other and sobbing their poor hearts out."
sirius chuckled. "marlene will get drunk."
"absolutely! so will we, in fact, they say that getting married on the wedding night is good luck. ("who says that?" "i do. i made it up right now." "you're a right tosser, did you know that?" "but you love me.") where will the honeymoon be?"
"wherever you want it to be. we can try grimmauld place." sirius winked. "i heard they've got a really nice woman around there, walburga, ever heard of her?"
they sat in silence for a while, until remus put his cigarette between sirius' lips, who smiled gratefully, his lips curling around the cylinder.
"can i tell you a secret?" sirius asked, lit up by the moon, playing strange twinkles, white in grey, in his eyes.
remus nodded; he liked holding sirius' secrets. tucked in his pocket, deep within his heart, they were only theirs to share. whispered in the dead of the night over smoking and stubbed cigarette butts, limbs tangled and their room cold (they still hadn't gotten around to fixing the strange heating that their block of flats offered), but their hearts warm.
"i don't like weddings. i never have. too many commitments. i'd like to be as we are right now, darling." the words fell off sirius' lips so easily. "maybe move out of this shitty apartment and get a house on the seashore. or a cabin in the woods. we could have chicken and goats and sheep if you want to. or we can stay here, in this shitty apartment with a leaky tap and no shower curtains and a minuscule balcony. it won't matter for me, as long as it's with you."
"and it won't matter for me either, because i love you, darling."
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godspeed-gay-bowser · 9 months
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though we have sparred, wrestled and raged i can tell you, i love him each day
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i did it. i did the funny thing-
"man shook you're real late to this trend" look man i started this a month and a half ago but then uh.
decided to take things a bit too far-
anyways, i modded peppino into 100% orange juice, it's fully functional with voicelines and you can get it on the steam workshop here (plus there's a few other things i changed but well... those are a surprise :]
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infraespinos · 9 months
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i need to say this
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look at this list of characteristics that dennis very much displays
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oh it's the dsm v criteria for a diagnosis of antisocial personality disorder aka the umbrella term for psychopathy and sociopathy (which are subsets and are not diagnosable anymore)
nowhere does it say that someone with aspd doesn't have emotions. accepting that dennis does have aspd doesn't take away the of course i have feelings. i would say that if we take into account the whole of the show literally everyone in the gang has aspd to some degree. going off on that tangent beneath the cut
disclaimer i KNOW this is a comedy and their traits are played up for laughs but i dont care
dennis:
fits 1 through 7. examples:
1: obvious
2: obvious, ass kickers united, johnny, dennis system, etc
3: impulsivity: im jumping in the pool, running the car into the river, marrying maureen, etc. failure to plan ahead: self sustaining economy though i don't think failure to plan ahead fits him in general
4: obvious, esp later on on the show
5: safety of self: taking crack to scam the government, safety of others: obvious
6: marrying maureen, never really works, didnt at the oldies rock cafe either. is not consistent with how he handles his money, on the gang gets whacked the only one in the gang to have any money was dee and she gets paid the least of all the gang
7: the way he racionalizes everything (hiding macs dads letters) or plain doesnt give a shit (dennis system) is insane
also showed signs before 15, animal cruetly and his whole high school golden god thing though that aligns wayyy more with npd which he 100% has too
dee:
1 and 2, 3 and 4 are debatable, 6 and 7. still more than 3 which is the minimum. examples:
1: obvious
2: $cammin
3: some failure to plan ahead, again $cammin, impulsivity as a generalized tendency i dont really know about
4: she does get in some physical fights, like in bums making a mess all over the city, and she did set her roomate on fire, but i wouldn't say that she's super super irritable
5: safety of self: crack, the whole pepper jack thing, though i wouldnt say this is super generalized in her, safety of others: obvious
6: i mean stick it to the man but from a normative living point of view she didnt work well at the oldies rock cafe either. not too bad on the handling her money front though i would say
7: doesnt regret setting her roomate on fire, doesnt regret getting that stripper to strip for his daughter (i dont remember at least), she was literally gonna kill dennis and frank to get the inheritance and when questioned about it her answers went to show that she probably would not feel remorse after doing it
i would say that if anyone is a psychopath (as in callousness as well as the stuff mentioned before) in the gang it's her. never has dennis been as callous as her in things like planning to kill him and frank like she truly didnt gaf that theyre her family. also histrionic personality disorder mayhaps and about 7 npd traits and you need 5 to be diagnosed so. lotta overlap tho you know how it is
mac i am actually kinda on the fence about. 1 for sure, 2 not really though he was disgusting in billboard contest and idk that id say quid pro quo harassment counts as conning for personal profit but idk, 3 kinda?? 4 meh hes kinda irascible but i wouldnt say that its in like. the dennis way, he does get in fights though (with dennis on mac bangs dennis' mom and charlie gets cr*ppled, with charlie on gang gets racist), 5 yeah, 6 we haven't really seen mac work outside of paddys so idk, but also bad with his money 7 in some episodes (extreme home makeover though he thought he was doing good so idk if im counting that, we are going to hunt you cricket, gang gives back, though i would say that this isnt generally a trait of his. that amounts to about 1 + 0 + 0.5 + 1 + 1 + 0.5 + 0.5 = 4.5 so hmm..but i will give that a meh
im getting tired but charlie is another meh, def different if we count out dee and charlie find love or not, because like yeah that was once but his manipulation for personal benefit + lack of regret were very marked. id also say schizotypal tendencies but not diagnosable also he lacks the whole social anxiety thing. but i feel like it must be taken into account that he happened to run into this group of people that accepts him, he might have turned out different if he had to be with normative people
frank is actually there in the minimum with 3, which r 1 5 and 7, but 5 is not super super prominent so idk
anyway im not a professional just yet so dont take any of this super seriously, just a psych major + they are characters in a tv show that can be pretty inconsistent with this stuff and that has episodes like gets extreme that just . outlier in how deranged they act
#dennis reynolds#dee reynolds#its always sunny in philadelphia#iasip#im so tired of the nooo dennis isnt a sociopath agenda cause like. yall!!!!#also dennis doesnt fit the dsm v criteria for bpd but thats a conversation for another day#because it requires 5 of the traits it lists and he barely displays 4#ale yasta si antes tenia 0 chance d getting anywhere en este fandom ahora es -3 pero idgaf#tired of the woobification accept they are diagnosable#also unrelated to sunny itself but.. antisocial does NOT equate asocial or someone who doesnt want to be with people as you have been able#o notice thru this post so please stop referring to urselves as antisocial unless ur going around like getting into fights and infringing t#e law.#also id have to ask my lawyer friend about this but...............i think that at least in the uk the legal definition of insanity is that#when you committed a crime you either thought you were doing something completely different or you truly didnt know what you were doing was#wrong. and in the gang gets extreme they genuinely think they are doing good to the not-juarez family while they completely (ilegally) wrec#their shit and stuff so. technically legally insane in that episode?#NO CLUE i know nothing about the law as opposed to charlie#anyway logging off forever#last tag dennis also prbably has an eating disorder#and yeah charlie dyslexia mac possible adhd etc#look at me a former r*se lal*nde near kinnie waving the dsm around like an asshole. proud of where ive come#like even when i started m*ths i kneww this is what i was gonna end up doing#m treure el pir i starem totes contentes jo ho veig#se puede companyes#no anon hate i am very sensitive i still think of the kys i got like 2 years ago#also i got anon hate for disliking meiko the v*caloid as a teenager. lol
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jessicapaulalia · 2 months
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Is it your first time watching? S2 Donnaharvey is great have fun
it is!!! i truly know nothing about this show so i have no idea what’s coming. that’s terrifying and great to hear thank you. me screaming last night at 1 am because donna said “you can never go back” to rachel and then one episode later says you can go back
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moth--knight · 11 months
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think it is time to commission a new pfp ..... thinking thoughts
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zarovich · 2 years
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-_-
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sickkonline · 3 months
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i think we as a fandom should talk about this scene more
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i believe that this is the first time that gon really gets a glimpse into just how much killua cares for him. all of killuas previous affections have been either while gon’s away or purposely hidden from him by killua himself…
so, gons reaction here is something that really REALLY GETS ME.
He’s shocked! he’s so surprised! killua has NEVER acted like this before, always calm and collected.
what does this say about what gon believes he is to killua? we, the audience, obviously know that killua holds gon on the highest pedestal, light itself yadda yadda. but gon? gon has NO clue that killua thinks all of that! from gon’s point of view, killua is just his bestie that tags along, nothing more. i don’t think gon believes he means a lot to killua, i don’t think he knows he means a lot to anyone, besides aunt mito, maybe.
after this fact, gon can’t get it off of his mind! he’s worried about killua, if he’s okay, that’s how ABNORMAL killua CARING is to him.
you could even draw that into the insult chapter, why gon reacts the way he does, why he truly believes killua DOES NOT care about kite.
their miscommunications get me EVERYTIME.
also: since killua has always gone to great lengths to hide his fierce protectiveness over gon, he must have been SO damn stressed while entering ngl!! killua letting lose like this is rare (well, in later chapters we get his BREAKDOWNS and shit, but he would NEVER do that in front of gon.)
i do believe that killua wanted to act alone simply on the fact that A. he wants to protect gon B. because it’s simply easier for him to work alone.
i think reason B is less likely because killua KNEW he would bump into soldier ants eventually. we know that killugon working together can make quick work of soldier ants. they work perfectly in sync.
however i think gon’s response is what affected their relationship the most.
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nothing.
he does not promise killua that he won’t help people he sees dying. killua most likely just views this as just Gon being Gon, goodness and all.
however, since this is the first time killua has expressed concern for gon TO gon, and he is immediately shot down and ignored, his fear to open up in later chapters makes complete sense.
Gon does not get another word out about it besides his “Killua…” (gay asf if you ask me.) While gon is worried about the citizens, he’s worried about killua more.
also: the next time gon hears from killua is when killua calls him after being MISSING for a while, we don’t hear a lot about it, but you’ve all seen how Gon reacts once killua finally calls him.
he was SO worried!! and this ontop of killua being potentially hurt or dead, guilt must have been eating Gon alive. i imagine he wouldn’t want their last conversation to be an argument.
anyway: they make me sick, i think about this a lot.
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asdfghjklmals · 11 months
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BLAME GAME✩༶‧˚
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GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. daddy joke. WORD COUNT: 0.9k words. TAGS: boyfriend!gojo, satoru gojo x fem!oc. established couple. adoptedkiddo! megumi makes a small appearance.
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SYNOPSIS: oc gojo girlfriend tries to play a prank on satoru, but he slips up and gets himself in trouble instead... AUTHOR'S NOTE: lol i saw a funny reel of this girl pranking her boyfriend and i got inspired. also used something from the jjk short stories. 😉 REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!
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“satoru gojo!” you bellowed from the bedroom.
you heard his feet promptly shuffling to your room as your white-haired boyfriend peaked his head through the bedroom door. you repeated his name again.
“satoru gojo!”
“uh? yeah? that's me...” he stared at you, concerned and confused, walking slowly to the foot of your king sized bed.
“come here.” you said with no emotion in your face, using your index finger to lure him towards you. it took all of you to not burst out laughing in his face. it was amusing to see the soft and bewildered look on his face. he was really such an attentive boyfriend who loved you silly and he was truly worried.
“why are you calling me by my—wait, you never use my government name. we go by babe, baby, sweet cheeks, honey, and sometimes daddy in this household!” he stomped his feet jokingly, trying not to laugh because he couldn’t tell if this was a dangerous situation and if he needed to tread lightly. your lips twitched as you also tried not to laugh either or your cover would be blown.
“satoru, honey.” you said more calmly, but with a hint of danger in your tone. god, you deserved an emmy award for your acting.
satoru was going through all the events that happened today in his head, trying to figure out what he did wrong along the way. “we went shopping today, i made you your morning coffee perfectly may i add, i took out the trash, megumi did the laundry, and i didn't leave my socks around the apartment… so why are you using my government name like that?!”
“what do you think it is?” you questioned him.
“i literally have no clue. you should be having a good sunday so far and i was enjoying my day until you used my full name instead of baby. i haven’t even done anything yet!” satoru defended himself, scratching the back of his head. he was out of back up plans, it was time to resort to an emergency measure. kisses. lots of kisses.
he swiftly made his way over to your side of the bed and sat down next to your side, he grinned at you and tried to sneak a kiss on your cheek but you stopped him just shy of your face. his lips hit your palm instead. “you know what you did.”
“babe, what did i do? just tell me and i promise i’ll make everything right again,” he whispered as he kissed your ear. you felt the hairs on the back of your neck raise as you shuddered. he stared at you with piercing azure eyes, his sunglasses sliding down his nose bridge.
“why are you whispering?” you started giggling.
satoru gojo was a smart and calculated man (most days), but today, he was really at a loss. “why are you laughing?” he demanded to know.
“i saw the funniest video of a girl doing this exact thing to her boyfriend and you had the same reaction as him.” you kept giggling after explaining. your bright smile made your green eyes disappear, crows feet wrinkle, and your pearly whites glisten.
as much as satoru could melt by watching you laugh, he kissed his teeth in annoyance. “i really thought you were upset with me! you never use my full name unless i’m in trouble with you. i thought my ass was going to be sleeping on the couch tonight for sure. my neck already started to hurt thinking about it.” he dramatized as he massaged the back of his neck, but it wouldn’t be satoru gojo without the theatrics.
“i had to go through all the things in my head that would’ve upset you like not taking out the garbage, leaving my socks around the house, fighting with megumi, not putting down the toilet seat after peeing cause of that one time you fell in, not separating the white and dark laundry colors, or even when the kids and i were at the maid cafe last wee—”
and that’s when satoru gojo saw his life flash before his eyes. he covered his mouth quickly with his free hand, his eyes wide open in terror. you glared into his panicked blue eyes.
“satoru gojo! you went where?! and you took megumi too?!” this time, there was no acting in your tone.
EXTRA:
“come on, megumi, pick up the damn phone. don’t forget that i pay for your phone bill.” satoru gritted through his teeth. he had just received a 20 minute lecture on how megumi and yuji didn’t need to be in a maid cafe and that he didn’t have any business being there either. it was actually an honest accident that they ended up there. the kids followed him into the maid cafe where he was scoping out an abandoned building where some curses were lingering across the street. he wanted to use the building as his afternoon lesson with his students.
“what do you want?” the younger fushiguro picked up, annoyance in his tone of voice.
“well, that’s not a polite way of answering the phone that your guardian pays the cell phone bill for.” satoru quipped.
“it’s always something with you, gojo-sensei,” megumi sighed. 10 years of putting up with satoru gojo did that to people. megumi wondered how you dealt with him. you deserved a nobel peace prize in his eyes.
“well, (y/n) found out about the maid cafe,”
“and you’re in trouble with the boss. cool, i’ll see you at home la—”
“no, no. not just me, we are in trouble.”
“it was your stupid idea to go there! who the hell scopes out an abandoned building at a freakin’ maid cafe?” megumi couldn’t believe that he was being dragged into a punishment too. last time he got in trouble, you took away his kindle that you and satoru had gotten him for christmas last year.
the white haired sorcerer pulled a picture out from his wallet. it was a picture of megumi and yuji from the maid cafe. satoru cunningly suggested a scapegoat, “how do we somehow put the blame on yuji?”
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© 2023 ASDFGHJKLMALS — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK.
DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG
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grimm-writings · 9 days
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pathetic
…ft! dan heng, topaz, argenti, seele x gn! reader
…tags! fluff, pining, reader is oblivious as HELL!!!, seele’s slightly suggestive
…wc! 210 ; 319 ; 258 ; 305 = 1092
…notes! pathetic crushing… i cannot and will not ever stop vouching for pathetic pining in this house !!!!!!!
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Dan Heng is painfully aware of how he looks right now.  If it wasn’t March giving him the biggest shit-eating grin, it was Himeko trying hard to look polite as she hides her giggles, or even Mr Yang pretending he isn’t paying attention.
You.  You really haven’t the slightest clue what you’re doing to him.
Every time you visit him in the Express’s archives, Dan Heng would light up.  He wouldn’t do that for any such person usually.  His excuse is that you bring him snacks.  You would never complain, saying that you’d take this Dan Heng over the one with a poker face and sarcastic bites, even if he is just as cute.
How can you say that so casually?
One particular visit, he couldn’t take your sweet words any longer.  His hand envelops yours before you could turn away from him.  The way you look back at Dan Heng makes his heart swell in ways he couldn’t comprehend.
He couldn’t get the words out.
His grip loosens and he lets you go, albeit with confusion on your face.
The door closes with a quiet goodbye, and Dan Heng throws his head back in frustration, staring at the decorated ceiling above him.
How can he go on like this...?
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Topaz is not the kind of person to sit idly by waiting for something to happen.  She knows what she wants, and what she wants takes the shape of you.
You’re just so adorable!  Really, the way you act so clueless whenever you flirt with her is just so endearing!  How could she not melt?
…Well, it used to be easy.  Flirting, complimenting you, relishing in how you react; she even asked you out to dinner, and took you to the nicest place possible!  …But you’re still so shocked every time.  You still didn’t pick up on any of her advances.
For once, Topaz is at a complete loss.  What is she to do?  Grab you by the shoulders and shake you around telling you that she’s completely enamoured with everything about you, and though that includes your cluelessness, she can’t take much of it anymore?
She could nearly keel over.  Complete overkill.  She needs to be smart about this; clear, but also suave and mature.  Yeah, she can do this!
That’s how you find Numby making their way up to you, and there they drop a card in front of your feet.  They curiously look up at you as you read, although you could sense another pair of eyes watching you closely.
‘You’re cute!  Go out with me!  Love, Topaz!’
Topaz could nearly explode from joy watching your face heat up.  Finally.  Finally!  You get it now, don’t you?!
Her heart steps as you throw the card away and lean down and pet Numby.  “Oh, Numby.  Someone must have put you up to this for a prank, huh?  You should find your way back to Topaz!”
Said companion of the Warp Trotter has already fallen to her knees with her face in her hands.  You’re more work than she bargained for… but she’ll be struck down by an Aeon before she gives up on you!  Just watch her!
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Argenti doesn’t know what to do with himself.
Truly, he’s making all the right moves.  He’s following examples from stories and myths, step by step.  It’s not his fault that they always end up going wrong somehow.  Maybe it’s just harsh luck…
He’s on one knee, taking your hand in his own.  Like you are royalty, he kisses the back of it, and looks up at you.
“Thank you for saving me!”  You beam, and Argenti’s brain freezes.
That’s how it all goes wrong, every single time.
He’s hopeless, how the knight of beauty stands up, turns around, and immediately feels his knees buckle and he’s down on the ground again.  Maybe he’ll stay like this for a few minutes when he finishes crying.
He feels you kneel at his side, and prod against his armour.  “Argenti…?” your sweet, sweet voice calls out to him quietly.
“Worry not.  I am simply fighting the dirt in your honour.  Keeping the worms off of you.”
You pause.  He wouldn’t dislike being buried here like this.  Then he hears your confused laughter.  “Alright then!  Thank you very much, sir knight!”
You pet his hair and stand up again, making your way back to a safe zone.
Yes, Argenti thinks, I will stay here and fend off the insects for you, my dear.  And that is the only reason why I can’t move…
He certainly refuses to believe it’s your patience and kindness.  How silly would it be for a knight of beauty to become so immobilised by it!  How silly indeed…
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Seele encourages you to stand up again.  A simple sparring doesn’t do too much harm every now and again.  She isn’t Luka; she won’t beg you for a match, but practice is good, and practice is better if it’s with a friend.
Haha.  Keep telling yourself that, Seele. 
Is it obvious yet she really wants you to just defeat her already?  She knows you have it in you.  Yeah, you’re more on the air-headed side, but you’re a reliable teammate!  Maybe it’s the fact you refuse to actually hurt her…
You apologise again when you’re back on your feet.  She doesn’t want any apologies, dang you!  Can’t you see she’s just desperate to get you to at least brush your knuckles against hers as her scythe comes in conflict with your blade?!
…So that does it.  In her mental ramblings, you manage to get her on the ground beneath you.  Your thighs cage her under you as you push her down.  Aeons, your smile is so wide.
“I got you!” you exclaim.
Seele can’t help the small laugh that escapes her.  She hopes that her face is only red to you because of your fighting.  You’re so close to her face.  You could just kiss her right now…
“Yep, you really did!” is what comes out, shakier than she would have liked.  How did you get her so weak?  You’re not even making a big deal over straddling her like this…
You shimmy off her eventually, offering your hand out.  “Time for lunch?”
Seele doesn’t move for a few seconds, before letting you pick her up.  If not a kiss, she can at least get some quality time.  The way you smile at her is enough for her.
…How you pushed her down will definitely haunt her dreams for the next week or so, though.
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angelltheninth · 5 months
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I don’t think I’ve seen this yet but I seriously need your thoughts on jjk women (heavy on maki and mai (I’m a lil sad barely anyone talks abt mai! orz) and their gf who surprises them by wearing a lingerie for their birthdays as a lil present hehe (i can’t explain it but there is just smth different with wearing pretty lingerie for a pretty woman… gosh I’m melting, I want to be unwrapped by them)
Yeah a lot of people write for male characters, I think the most I've seen written for female characters is in the Arcane fandom.
Pairing: Nobara, Maki, Mai, Shoko, Utahime x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, kissing, lingerie, stripping, grinding, strap-on use, fingering
A/N: I mostly write requests so if you'd like to request more female characters you can.
Nobara picked out what you should wear, it was more like a gift for you. You thought it was odd for her to give you a gift on her birthday but she liked to spoil you with pretty things. You were her pretty girlfriend after all. Well two could play at that game. The look of surprise on her face when you lifted your skirt and reveled that you were wearing what she bought you... she didn't want to take it off but at the same time... god she was you'd look even better naked and fucking yourself on her tongue.
Maki suspected you had something planned for her birthday given how secretive you were for most of the day and how you shied away from her inquisitive looks. You won't tell her what it is, even with all the kisses she gives you but you do give her a clue, it's something that will require her to get her strap-on. You could have said more but it wasn't needed, she was already running to get it only to come back and see you decked out in pretty lingerie, ready for her to slip it to the side and fuck you all the while you're wearing that pretty gift.
Mai did notice you were taking an unusual amount of time getting dressed for the birthday dinner. Stranger was the fact that you didn't sit across form her, you sat on her lap. She welcomed the closeness always, but couldn't keep focused on the food when her hands wondered beneath your clothes, feeling the real reason you sat on her lap. Expert fingers took your clothes off little by little to reveal the prize underneath. She didn't want to move you, where you were was perfect, your breasts right in her face, so much skin to kiss, while you grind yourself on her thigh, leaving a wet spot as you do so.
Shoko saw you putting the lingerie on but didn't say anything. She would never spoil the surprise you had in store for her. Through the night she shows little ways of appreciation for this gift, kissing you when she can, always holding you close, riling you up with the tiniest touches on your neck and thighs but avoiding the most sensitive spots. Does pretend to be surprised when you reveal yourself to her but the one truly surprised is you when she rejects your offer to eat her out. There's a reason she skipped dessert, she wants to eat you, she wants you to ride her face while keeping that pretty lingerie on.
Utahime wants you to wear that all day for her birthday, only the lingerie and nothing else. That would be the best gift in her opinion, the gift of seeing you looking so sexy for her whenever she turns to kiss you, and your pussy easily accessible for her fingers whenever she wants. No time of that special day is spent without her hands, mouth or eyes on you, drinking in every movement, every reaction up until you strip for her at the end of the night and finally let her give you a gift of her own, the orgasm your pussy has been craving.
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adragonprinceswhore · 6 months
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The Commune l modern!cult leader Aemond x Reader
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Prev I Next I Series Masterlist
Chapter III: Assimilating
Summary: Feeling lost in life and depressed by your stressful job, you decide to visit your aunt Helaena and uncle Aemond at their new home out in the country.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns. This fic contains dark themes such as; descriptions of depression, manipulation, coercion, noncon/dubcon, and incest. Please mind the tags for each chapter. This chapter contains coercion, guilt, physical violence, blood, noncon/dubcon, black-mailing, petting, oral (m receiving), face fuccin', and incest (reader is Rhaenyra's daughter)
Word Count: 4700
A/N: I'm back from my trip! This is getting darker besties, enjoy 💫
Dividers by Saradika
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You can’t take in anything Helaena is saying. You watch her lips move, try your hardest to take in her words, but nothing sticks. You hum and nod in reply, but haven’t got a clue to what you just agreed.
Should you tell her about what happened in Aemond’s office? 
What if she tells him? 
What if she tells mum?
Bile rises in the back of your throat at the thought. What if your mum ever found out what her brother had done with her daughter? 
What if she found out how good he’d made you feel?
The only consolation in your misery is the fact that Aemond is sitting where he’d sat before, at the end of the long, beautifully decorated wooden table, looking out at everyone as if nothing was wrong. Like any other supper at the commune. 
Maybe nothing was wrong? 
What if you’d only imagined the entire thing? 
You couldn’t bear to meet his gaze, and continued to channel all of your energy into the conversation you were having with Helaena. Or rather, that she was having with you. 
“So when the queen bee dies, her workers will select a new queen from the larva and feed her this special thing called ‘royal jelly’ so that she becomes fertile”, she concludes cheerily, smiling from ear to ear. “Everyone here in our community gets to focus their attention on their chosen topic of interest, mine being insects and biology. I’ve learned so much, nature is truly fascinating”, she rambles on. Again, you notice how utterly elated Helaena seems to be here, her eyes shining as she continues to tell you about everything she’s learned. 
It was hard to imagine that this was the same girl who’d seemed to be a shell of a person before. She’d developed a tendency to pull away from others since you were children. Seeing her this animated and filled with life should make you happy for her. But it feels off. 
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The following days go by quickly. Sensing your need to feel useful, the members of the commune assign you daily tasks, like helping out with harvesting plants, preparing meals and cleaning up the Sept. It doesn’t seem to be used for ceremonies or communal prayer, instead, it’s used by residents privately throughout the day. You were not too familiar with the Seven, but you swear you could remember Aemond and Helaena attending services at the Sept when you were younger, not merely going there in solitude. Perhaps they prayed together as well? 
Putting all your energy into being productive stopped you from thinking about what had happened between you and your uncle three days prior. 
Despite the initial disgust you felt, you’d now decided that if you acted like it never happened, maybe it never did. You’d sworn to never bring it up with Aemond, or ever tell anyone else for that matter. 
He was still the Aemond you’d grown up with; the sensitive boy with a strong will, always on a mission to prove himself. He’d always been a bit too ‘by the book’. Maybe he’d sincerely thought that you would enjoy it? 
Maybe he’d read something about Freud’s theory on female hysteria and the power of orgasmic release, seeing the act as more of a medical procedure than a sexual encounter? 
It sure didn’t feel like a medical procedure. 
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Despite helping out at every corner of the residence, you hadn’t seen Alys since you’d left Jon alone with her. But this morning, after Aemond had asked you to help the residents clean up the leftovers from breakfast, you spot her standing next to your uncle, talking about something in hushed voices while watching the residents tidy up. 
You’d only been there a short while, but already knew that Aemond and Alys held the highest positions in the hierarchy that seemingly penetrated the small community. They both had an air of authority about them that was hard to overlook, making the pair appear intimidating in a way that only a strict superior could. Yet, they both chose to be soft spoken whenever they address anyone, often complimenting the residents on their good work. 
You notice Aemond nod towards you, which prompts Alys to approach you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. 
“I’d like for you to help me today”, she states, and although her voice is soft, as if asking a question, there seems to be no room for disagreement and you give her an unsure nod. 
She ushers you to follow her as she makes way towards one of the almost overflowing flower beds, various plants fighting for space. Like every day since your arrival, the weather is practically perfect; sunny but with a comforting breeze passing through the fields. Alys reaches for two weaved baskets resting against the small cottage wall close by and hands you one before kneeling down by the flower bed. You follow her, admiring the abundance of herbs in front of you. 
You’d never witnessed such a variety of plants grow so vigorously together. You’d hardly thought it to be possible. Maybe the weather and temperature conditions here were optimal? Or maybe they’d genetically modified the crops? 
You’re pulled away from your wandering thoughts by Alys gentle, low voice. 
“How has the stay here been for you so far?” 
Even though you’d told yourself, decided, that you’d never even think about what had happened between you and Aemond in his office again, her questions forces your mind back there. 
Sitting on his lap. His fingers inside you; stretching you out. 
You shake your head slightly in an attempt to erase the thought from your mind. 
You’re never going to think about that again. You can’t. 
“It’s been great. Everyone’s so welcoming and I’ve been able to spend a lot of time with Helaena”, you reply, focusing on the positive. It was all true; during your time here you’d felt welcomed and comforted. Cared for. 
“That’s lovely”, Alys replies with a smile as she begins to pick basil leaves off the thin stem of the plant. “We’ve worked hard to create the perfect environment for people to thrive here, just like you seem to be doing”, she explains and you briefly knot your eyebrows together in confusion. 
Did you thrive here? 
Sure, you looked a lot better; your skin had almost started to glow and you woke up in the morning feeling refreshed and rested. But that could just be down to the fact that you’d found uninterrupted sleep. Plus, the appetising food here seemed healthy, consisting of ingredients the residents grew and prepared themselves. 
“Well, the fresh air and delicious meals certainly help one thrive”, you reply with a chuckle. Alys’ eyes light up as they sweep over your face. 
“You enjoy the food? I’m happy to hear that. I’ve put all of the past year's energy into curating the plants, grains and menu here”, she tells you with pride evident in her voice. 
“You truly have a gift, Alys. Any tips for an amateur like me?”, you inquire, relaxing a bit now that the conversation has taken a lighter turn. 
She smiles at you as she pulls out a small, green tin from the large pocket in the middle of the apron she’s always wearing. She opens the lid and pulls out a small spoon from another pocket. It’s filled with what looks like dirt, or clay, and smells similar to a compost. 
Your nose crinkles as she scoops some of the brown mush inside the tin onto her spoon, placing it by the plant's roots before firmly patting it down with the back of the utensil. 
“I was doing my PhD at King’s Landing University before moving here; I was researching phytotherapy”, she starts to explain as she scoops out another spoonful of brown mush from the tin and moves to add it to the next plant's roots. 
“I was in my final year, fully consumed by my dissertation. Despite loving the topic, I was so stressed out by my academic career that I seriously considered dropping everything and moving back to Harrentown. Then, I heard my professor tell me about this brilliant young man in the Political Science department”. As she starts to speak about Aemond, her eyes almost look dreamy. 
“His ideas were so radical yet so natural, you know? He wanted to create a space where people were allowed to pursue their passions without the stress and pressures of modern society. Where the Seven provide enough guidance”, she continues. You feel uneasiness creep up your spine. Her facial expression was almost trance-like as she talked about Aemond; like he was a deity ready to be worshipped. 
“Well, modern society provides us with plenty of comforts as well, don’t you think?”, you counter with a laugh, trying to ease the mood a bit. “What would you do if, like, one of the members got sick?” 
Alys huffs a laugh as well and smiles to herself as she eyes the tin in her hand. 
“We always get by”
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After a quick lunch break, you continue to help Alys with various tasks around the residence; picking flowers, vegetables and herbs for her, plucking out weeds and organising seeds for future harvest. You’d never seen seeds like the ones she showed you before, pitch-black in colour and almost supernaturally round. When she saw your expression, she let out a laugh before explaining that they were from Yi Ti, used by herbalists for centuries. She did not, however, answer you when you asked what they were going to be used for. 
Although she had felt intimidating at first, you felt yourself grow calm around Alys. Something about her was almost bewitching; like the way her emerald eyes would lock with yours whenever you spoke, or how graciously she moved about the commune, greeting residents in a gentle voice. Yet, you noticed that they never met her gaze, eyes cast down as she approached, only uttering a few polite phrases before rushing away. 
Feeling more at ease with the dark-haired woman, you gather some courage and ask her about what you’ve been aching to know for the past days. 
“The other day… What happened between you and Jayne?”, you ask, trying to sound as casual as possible. 
Alys, who’s been plucking some wildflowers from one of the fields close to the residence, doesn’t halter once as she answers with her eyes still on the stem of the flower in front of her. 
“Nothing for you to worry about”, she says as she plucks the flower and gently places it in her weaved basket. 
“Okay”, you reply with uncertainty. “She seemed very upset though”, you add, trying to keep the casualty in your tone but sensing that you're falling slightly. 
Alys finally looks up from the flowers she’s plucking and meets your gaze. 
“Actions have consequences. I’m sure you know that. But with the justice of the father and the grace of the mother, mistakes can be forgiven”, she explains, face suddenly sterner than before. The comfort of the familiarity that had been established between the two of you disappears in an instance and you feel uneasy as her eyes narrow. 
“Jayne has been forgiven and we will move forward. Just like how Aemond forgave you”, she states with finality before turning around and quickly making her way to the Sept, disappearing inside and closing the door behind her. 
The thoughts in your head start to spiral as you take in her words. 
Forgave you for what? 
For what happened in his office? 
Did she know about that? 
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As the members of the commune prepare for supper, you go back to your room to check your phone and enjoy a bit of time to yourself. The reception was not great out here and you’d not seen any of the residents use mobile phones so far during your stay, not even Helaena or Aemond. 
After what happened with Aemond, your mind had been too preoccupied to put any focus on replying to messages. You see a few from your mum and send her a quick reply to let her know that you’re doing well. You still felt uneasy seeing her name appear, feeling guilty and disgusted at the same time. 
A sudden commotion outside pulls you away from your thoughts. You hear raised voices, some sounding familiar, and you swiftly place your phone in your pocket before heading out. 
You see Jon, eyes wide and face pale, on his knees in front of Aemond, mimicking how Jayne and Alys had looked a few days ago. 
Aemond’s face is hard to read, it is stoic yet his eye looks furious, glaring down at Jon. Unlike Jayne, Jon doesn’t say anything but raises his hands in surrender as he locks eyes with Aemond; wordlessly pleading.
But for what?
You’re not the only one present, many of the residents have gathered around the two young men. Some look scared, others intrigued. 
“Do you believe the Father to be just?”, Aemond’s soft voice inquires, contrasting his utterly intimidating appearance. Jon nods eagerly, eyes still wide with fright.
“Then you’ll accept a punishment befitting the sin you’ve committed?”, he continues, and Jon stiffens slightly, but eventually nods slowly. His eyes cast down to the ground as his head hangs in surrender. 
Aemond hums at Jon’s agreement and pulls out a knife from the inside of the jacket he’s wearing over his usual white shirt and dark slacks. It’s one you recognise. It had been gifted to Aemond on his 12th birthday by your grandfather, who’d declared that he was now a young man; a young Targaryen man, and therefore needed his own reminder of his Valyrian heritage. 
Aemond flips the dagger in his hand as he regards the man before him, holding his hand out in an invitation to Jon. He places his hand in Aemond’s, and you can now clearly see that he is shaking. Aemond turns his hand so that he’s holding the back of it, Jon’s palm turned upwards. 
“Mistakes can be forgiven, but justice must prevail”, Aemond speaks, voice louder than before to address the crowd around him and Jon.
You hear the residents around you murmur in agreement as Aemond raises the dagger in his hand, eye cast down to make contact with Jon’s. He’s trembling out of fright and Aemond almost seems pleased at the display in front of him.
“We all need reminders of our wrongdoings, to prevent us from repeating them. Whenever you lose sight of the light, Jon, this will remind you to seek out the guidance of the Seven”, Aemond’s calm voice rings out as he suddenly presses the dagger into Jon’s palm. He grunts in pain as the blade breaks his skin and blood flows freely from his hand. Aemond’s knuckles are white from the force in which he’s holding onto Jon’s hand as he refuses to let the younger man go, staring into his eyes with a look so intimidating it demands submission. 
You can’t take in the scene in front of you; can’t comprehend what’s happening. As reality slowly comes back to you, you try to speak up, try to tell Aemond to stop, but your body doesn’t obey you; frozen in shock. The other residents watch quietly, not making a sound as Aemond and Jon stay frozen, blade still penetrating Jon’s palm as he winces in pain. 
Your uncle finally pulls away from Jon, gesturing for Alys to move forward. She obliges immediately, pulling out some gauze from one of the pockets of her apron as she kneels down next to Jon. 
Aemond’s stoic facade seems to falter slightly as his breathing turn laboured; jaw shut tight. He appears agitated, giving Jon and Alys one final look before stalking away towards the nearby path leading to the forest where he’d taken you for a walk a few days prior. 
Your body finally obeys you as you call out his name, voice urgent. 
What the fuck did you just witness? 
Aemond doesn’t turn around as he continues his brisk walk away from the commune, silhouette growing smaller and smaller. You throw a quick glance at Jon, whose face is even whiter than before, gauze around his palm already dark red with blood seeping through it. 
You cannot bear to take in the gory sight, a thousand questions going through your brain. You need answers, and so you make your way towards where Aemond had disappeared.
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The path into the forest grows blurrier as a thick fog settles over the commune. Still, you make your way towards where Aemond had disappeared, determined to confront him about what you’d just witnessed. 
You spot a form in the white mist, sitting on a stump with his head in his hands. You approach him quickly, thoughts still spinning around in your head. 
You’d had some time to think about what you wanted to tell him. 
What was that all about? 
Why would you cut Jon? 
Why did he agree? 
If he did agree, that is. The fear that was evident on Jon’s face as he knelt before Aemond made you shiver. He’d seemed so scared of Aemond; scared of what he might do to him. But no one had interfered as your uncle cut the hand of one of his cohabitants. 
Was this the norm? 
Aemond looks up as he hears your footsteps approach, face as unreadable as always. 
“What the fuck was that, Aemond?!”, you question, voice shrill and accusing. Your eyes seek out his as you stop before him, expression furious and chest heaving. 
“You need to call a medic or something, Jon’s bleeding heavily!”
Your cheeks feel hot as fury rolls through your body. It’s amplified by the seemingly indifference of the man before you. 
“Don’t question how we do things here”, he warns, eye just as furious as it had been before. “Jon knew the consequences of stepping out of line, we all do”. 
“What could he have done to make you mutilate his hand?!”, you counter. You still can’t fully comprehend what had happened mere moments ago. Had you just witnessed bodily mutilation in the name of religion? 
Aemond clicks his tongue, seemingly annoyed at your accusations. He tries to school his face into a calmer demeanour as he looks you over. 
“Sit down and I’ll explain”, he offers, gesturing for you to take a seat on the damp grass in front of him. 
Despite your initial desire to defy him purely out of spite, your curiosity wins as you sit down in front of the stump where he sits, eyebrows raised in question. 
“Everyone living here has consented to our communal agreement”, he begins. You can’t help but scoff as he continues. 
“One of the reasons why people feel so depressed and out of place is due to the secularisation of the modern world. They’ve lost their connection to the Seven; lost sight of the light. A belief in the divine brings us closer together, closer to the seven faces of the God”, he explains, voice filled with conviction. You can’t help but roll your eyes. 
“You all need help if you believe that physical violence will bring you closer to the gods”, you oppose, unable to hide the disgust evident in your voice. Aemond’s jaw shuts tightly and the calmness on his face looks forced. 
“Help me then”, he bites back, irritation penetrating his serene facade. “Pray with me”. 
He grabs both your hands suddenly and traps them in his, lowering his head as he recites a prayer you hadn’t heard before. 
You try to pull your hands away but his grip is iron-like as he continues to mumble the prayer under his breath. As he grows quiet, he keeps the grip around your hands and seeks out your gaze. He looks like he’s contemplating something; different from his usual determined state. 
“Maybe you should help me like I help you; easing the pressure from within”, he states as his hands pull yours towards the zipper of his slacks. Your body tenses as you try to pull your hands away, this time with more force. 
He pushes your hands against his crotch and you feel a hardness there. Your mouth goes dry as you feel a rush of anxiety go through your body. 
“Aemond, no, not aga-“, you begin but he cuts you off. 
“Would you prefer it if I told Helaena what you let me do to you in my office? Or should I tell your mum?”
You feel cold all over as you shiver at his words, swallowing thickly. He lets one of his hands leave yours as he undoes his zipper and pulls out his length; already hard and angrily red. 
You’re once again consumed by feelings of unreality. 
This couldn’t actually be happening, right? 
Aemond grips one of your hands, grasping it painfully hard as he pulls it towards his cock, fingers pressing into the sides and bending your fingers so they circle around him. He begins to move your hand over his length, his much larger hand enveloping yours. 
He sets a fast pace; letting you know exactly how he likes it. His other hand moves towards your mouth, catching you completely by surprise as he plunges two fingers into your mouth. 
Before you have a chance to pull your head away, he brings his spit-covered fingers down to the hand that’s using yours to pleasure himself. He stops, pulls your hand away from him and smears your saliva over the palm before he guides it back to his manhood again. 
As your slick hand makes contact with his burning flesh once more, he grunts and closes his eyes; brows knit together in satisfaction. He lets you continue the motion by yourself, hands falling to the sides of his lap. 
You can’t help but look up at him, admiring his beauty. Such an intimidating man, instilling fear in so many around him, currently at your mercy. You almost feel a headrush at the thought; having Aemond in the palm of your hand. Literally. 
The continuous friction of your hand against his flesh removes some of the stickiness, and you hear him let out something similar to a whine as your hand grows drier. His previously intimidating face suddenly looks pleading as he gazes down, letting you know he wants you to add saliva again. 
Without really thinking, instead of licking your palm, you move your head toward him, darting your tongue out and licking a stripe over his tip. He lets out a surprise moan, and you can’t help the feeling of pride rushing through your body, settling in your core, making you clench around nothing. 
Why does it feel so good to be praised by him, even when it’s wordless? 
You continue to work him with your hand, though Aemond’s eye has setted on your mouth, occasionally flicking down to your clothed chest and the cleavage visible from above. One of his hands grasp your chin as he makes you look up into his eye. 
“Do that again”, he commands, and you suddenly realise the gravity of what you’d just done. 
You shake your head. “No”. 
He lets out a grunt, hand still on your jaw as he slowly and firmly brings your head closer to him. Like before, you try to push away from him, to gain some sense of control, but he is far stronger than you. 
“You do as I say”, he counters, and in one swift motion, he pulls your head towards his cock with such force that you nearly knock your forehead against his stomach. As you part your lips to protest, he pushes himself inside of your hot, wet mouth; sighing at the relief. 
You feel panic come over you as you try to pull away, but he quickly places both hands on your head; keeping you in place. 
“Breath through your nose. Be the good girl I know you are”, he grunts as he starts to buck into your mouth. You place your hands on his thighs in another feeble attempt at escaping his assault on your mouth, but to no avail. He drags your face over his length, palms moving to grab each side of your head as his movements grow quicker. You gag slightly.  
“You feel so fucking good”, he breaths out, voice drunk on lust. “You look so fucking good with my dick in your mouth, you know that?”, he questions in a mocking tone as he brushes away some of the hair that has fallen over your face with his thumb. 
You know the ache in your core is inappropriate; disgusting even. You know that his words of praise shouldn’t make your underwear sticky. 
But they do. 
Your eyes water as he continues to fuck your mouth, not giving you any rest. You try to whine against him to make him stop; let you come up for air, but he takes your sound as a moan and groans, moving in your mouth faster and harsher. 
He finally seems to sense your need for a break as he manoeuvres your head off of his cock, and you pant heavily as you gulp for air when your mouth is finally freed. A string of saliva connects your lips to his length, and his eye seems to be even more lust filled as he moves his hand so that he can caress your flushed cheek. He almost seems to regard you with fondness. 
“Aemond, please, we can’t do this”, you protest. His gaze flicks from your spit-soaked, swollen lips to your cleavage, and then back. He doesn’t offer you a reply as he stands up abruptly, taking advantage of your startled face as he shoves his dick back into your mouth. Your hands instinctively come up to his legs to have something to hold onto as he fucks your face with even more vigour than previous, swearing under his breath. 
You feel disgusted at the obvious arousal pooling in your stomach, seeping out of your core. 
How could something so degrading feel so sensual? 
How could you be aroused by your uncle using you like this?
Aemond moves his hands to the back of your head, pushing you so that your nose makes contact with the hairs at the bottom of his stomach, as he pushes his hips against you harshly and lets out a prolonged grunt.  
You gag and stifle a cough, feeling his hot liquid fill your throat, your mouth.
He slowly pulls away, hands still gripping your head as his eyes return to their wholly intimidating appearance. 
“Swallow”, he demands, placing a large palm over your mouth, blocking your nose at the same time. 
You know that you have no choice but to oblige him and force the sticky, salty fluid down your throat, wincing. Aemond gives your kneeling form one last once-over before letting out a hum, swiftly putting his cock back into his trousers. 
Without saying another word, he leaves, leaving you on your knees by the stump, fog now so thick that you can hardly see the path leading back to the commune anymore. 
You wipe the spit off your face with the back of your hand before standing on shaky legs. 
Could you pretend like this didn’t happen either? 
As if in a trance, you make your way back to the commune; head filled with thoughts, yet too exhausted to truly comprehend anything. 
You move to the basin placed in the corner of your room, reaching for your toothbrush. You brush your teeth three times, reapplying tooth paste as the lather in your mouth disappears. You try to get the taste of him out of your mouth. It doesn’t go away.  
You realise that you’ve been carrying your phone in your pocket this whole time and pull it out, noticing a new message from your mother and brother. Without checking, you turn your phone off, tossing it in your bag as you make your way to the bed. 
No one will ever know about what just happened. 
This can’t be real.
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A/N: Thank you so much for reading lovelies! If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a like, comment or reblog 🖤
Tag list: @moonlightfoxx @daenerysqueenofhearts @heimtathurs @qyburnsghost @kazuyatokue @chainsawsangel @mandiiblanche @beautifulsweetschaos @shygardengalaxy @angelicmars2 @croatianprincess @fan-goddess @youraverageaemondsimp @madelynwal @kimmiecub @tssf-imagines @toodlesxcuddles @shesjustanothergeek @persephonerinyes @the-common-cowgirl
Bold; couldn't tag
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Okay, so, to the Good Omens meta analyses writers: I have seen much discussion about the weirdness of Maggie, but what about the weirdness of Nina? Because both of them make me bananapants, and with every rewatch I'm even more flummoxed.
I was thinking about writing out every word exchanged between Nina and Maggie. Because their whole thing doesn't feel any kind of authentic. I am baffled by each of them and both of them. And I might even feel more baffled by Nina.
When I first watched this with my sister, and then re-watched it with my wife, we were all scratching our heads about these two characters who seemed supremely poorly written. We winced at how false and forced their connection is and how flat their characters are. And in Nina's case, I detected no real interest in Maggie until her last few lines of the series when she suddenly calls her "angel" and lectures Crowley about how to have a healthy relationship. ...What? Excuse me, what?? I will likely never recover from the audacity of these two characters reading this particular riot act to Crowley.
I would argue that we don't even get close to seeing Nina and Maggie have a successful conversation, let alone demonstrate mutual romantic interest. Maggie is lost in the clouds of a really strange and wincingly performative pash (honest to god, how can she be out of control crying over someone she does not know? How did it take her so long to learn Nina's name? Why doesn't she know all about Lindsay, like fellow regular Mrs. Sandwich does? How can Maggie truly be a regular who is madly in love with the proprietor when she has managed to never collect any damn intel??!) , while Nina is preoccupied and irritated and upset about her abusive partner, and that comes through clearly in her whole demeanor and her abrupt tonal shifts.
We see Nina no fewer than three times demean Maggie's shop. We see Nina insist on referring to Maggie as Skinny Latte even after she has finally properly introduced herself. We see Nina basically reject Maggie's terrible gift. (I say the Nina Simone record is a terrible gift for two reasons: 1. Nina has made it crystal clear that she gives so few fucks about records that she hasn't noticed they are popular again, and 2. It was the equivalent of giving her a personalized souvenir. Look, it's an item that you have no use or desire for, but it has your name on it! Yeah, you could say Maggie doesn't have a clue about how to conduct a successful courtship.)
Things just get more awkward when they get stuck in the coffeeshop together. Nina hints really hard that she has a controlling partner, then pours herself a drink as she reacts to the big ol' red flag Maggie throws down when she says "No judgment" about her needing a drink. Maggie, in turn, romanticizes the shit out of having a controlling partner, and then says she'd been hoping to speak with Nina.
Then - and this is the crucial bit - we never see them really talk to each other.
I don't like them as mirrors for A & C. I'm hoping someone can tell me why I should. I feel like Gabriel and Beelzebub is more than enough...
And why the fuck doesn't Crowley know anything about Nina or the coffee shop?! He acts like he hasn't even noticed there's a shop located across the street from the bookstore. He's never paid attention to the name of the shop and he has somehow never met Nina. How does this make any sense?
Now, to tag some lovely analysts I follow 😁
@vidavalor @indigovigilance @meatballlady @moonyinpisces @baggvinshield @fellshish @good-omens-meta-library @halemerry @ineffablelunatics @mouseonamoose
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whispering-ways · 5 months
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Hear me out. Softdom!Mike (fnaf) takes you to work with him and wants you to cockwarm him while he looks over the cams
˖⁺‧₊˚♡ checking the cameras ♡ ˚₊‧⁺
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◉ summary: mike takes you to work, but you become incredibly bored incredibly quick. luckily, Mike has a solution for that.
◉ pairings: mike schmidt x reader
◉ tags: cockwarming, nicknames like love and baby
◉ notes: anon I literally adore you for this, i know in my bone marrow that Mike is a soft Dom!!! hope you like this short fic!
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You were always a fan of true crime since you were little. So when your boyfriend, Mike, offered for you to come with him during a shift, you jumped at the opportunity. I mean the place was just riddled with mystery; I mean missing children at an entertainment place? You knew there had to be some sort of clue to what had happened so many years ago and you were going to get to the bottom of it.
You were expecting a fun night of snooping around, but Mike had said that was absolutely not allowed. It was understandable; he was working hard at this gig and he couldn't have anything fuck it up for him. 
Nevertheless, it actively killed any excitement the pizzeria once had. It didn't take long for you to become absolutely mind-numbing bored. You'd practically done everything you could in Mike's office. Flip through manuals, make paper swans out of old napkins, watch the training VHS tapes, there was nothing more you could do within that office.
"Well, almost nothing," you thought, looking over to Mike. You had to admit, he looked pretty good in a uniform and it's not like you had anything better to do. You walked over to his chair and climbed in his lap, thighs trapping him down to his seat. 
His focus shifted from the cameras to you, moving his hands to hold you up from the small of your back. "What's up love?" he asks with a soft but tired smile.
"Babe~!" you said dragging out each syllable. "I'm so bored...can I please just ride you?" you whine.
Mike's face flushes red, but it slowly leaves as he lets out a tired sigh. "As much as I'd love that, and truly I would, I'm too fucking tired for that and plus I've gotta watch these cameras baby."
You didn't want to push him, so you nod your head, dissapointment written all over your face. You lay your head in the crook of his neck; if you couldn't have his dick inside you, you were at least gonna cuddle him. 
Mike hated to see you upset like this. How could he concentrate on work when his love was in his arms feeling so sad? He patted your back, making you sit back up. "Why don't you just cockwarm me for a bit love? Itd be nice to have you around me while I look at the cameras."
You nodded enthusiastically, happy at the compromise. You quickly reached to pull your shorts off, leaving you in your panties as you ground down on his crotch. Mike put his hands on your hips, pulling you up just enough for him to unzip and push his pants down just enough for you to have access to him. He placed you back in his lap gently and you conrinued to grind down on him, feeling his erection poke through his boxers.
It didn't take long for you to pull down your panties and line yourself up with Mike, impatient to have him inside you. You slowly slipped the tip in, hissing at the stretch. 
"Fuck baby, you're so tight~" Mike groaned out. You loved how raspy his voice would get every time you both messed around. You slipped all of him inside you, finally bringing your hips down to his. His dick filled you up in all the right places; although it was average in size, it made up in length with thickness. 
Instinctively, you started to raise your hips to ride him, before feeling Mike's hands on your side again, pulling you back down roughly. "Remember you're just cockwarming. Don't disobey okay? If you're good for me, maybe we can mess around later after my shift."
"Ugh~ fine," you say reluctantly, sinking back into his  chest.
He chuckles at how much you wanted him. "Good girl," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 
Something about being so close to Mike managed to make you sleepy and although you did your best to prevent it, you felt your eyes close.
You woke up to Mike tapping your back again to let you know it was time to go back home. You look up at him groggily before noticing you'd been cockwarming him all shift. Mike wordlessly helped put your clothes back on and led you back to his car, letting you sleep in the back seat as he drove him.
After checking in on Abby and sending the babysitter away, he brought you to his bedroom, gently laying you down on his bed. You instinctively pull the blanket around you, only to have it ripped away a few seconds later, the cold air now jolting you awake. 
You look up to see Mike above you, blanket in hand and a smile stretched across his face. "Baby you can't go to sleep just yet. I have to reward you for being so good don't I?" he said in a low voice.
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wynnyfryd · 2 months
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Trailer park Steve AU part 45
part 1 | part 44 | ao3
Nancy, Jonathan, and some guy with the longest hair Steve's ever seen are standing in a loose circle with Eddie and his bandmates, talking and sort of dance-nodding along to The Power of Love by Huey Lewis (a fact that Steve absolutely intends to mock his boyfriend for the second he gets the chance), and Steve, like, mentally girds his loins.
He and Jon are cool with each other, and he and Eddie are obviously, uh, plenty warmed up to one another by now, but the rest of them...
One's a stranger, one's an ex who seems drunk as shit and is currently so invested in spinning around to the music that she hasn't opened her eyes to notice him, and the other three are thawing to him at a truly glacial pace. Steve hasn't so much as been invited to watch a rehearsal yet because Eddie's 'still working on them' and needs 'a bit more time, but don't worry, they'll come around.'
They don't openly scowl when he and Robin approach, though, so Steve takes that as a win.
"Harrington!" Eddie calls, bowing deeply to add, "Lady Buckley."
Steve would feel stung by the surname if not for how downright giddy Eddie sounds. God, he loves tipsy Eddie; fucking Disney cartoon boy.
"Munson," he plays along, giving him a sly grin and a shoulder bump as he sidles up next to him. "Didn't know you were allowed to leave the basement at these things."
Jeff interrupts his air-guitaring to glare at Steve, bur Eddie holds out a hand and assures him that Steve's just fucking around. Before Steve can apologize or defend himself, Long Hair Guy leans in across the circle, his eyes wide and intense and bloodshot to hell.
"Dude," he greets. "You have. Such beautiful hair."
Steve barks a laugh. Robin rolls her eyes. Jonathan also rolls his eyes, but it seems more fond and less annoyed. "Can't take you anywhere," he mutters to the guy, then asks them, "You guys met Argyle yet?"
Steve holds out a hand. Confusion washes over him as he processes what Jonathan just said. "Uh." Argyle. "Like the sweater?"
"Yeah, man," Argyle smiles, dopey and slow. Sure. The guy in head-to-toe tie-dye and a neon green fanny pack is named Argyle. Why not? "My parents wanted a sheep, but they got me, instead."
Jonathan laughs like it's the funniest joke he's ever heard. Steve's pretty sure he's too sober for this conversation.
They exchange handshakes, and Robin asks if she can touch the guy's hair, and they all slip into easy, friendly conversation, naturally splintering into smaller groups of twos and threes. Steve's just getting the rundown on all the 'sick new gear' the band got for Christmas when the song changes, and god, this night just could not get better.
"Oh, fuck off!" Eddie groans in the DJ's direction.
Steve has to practically swallow his lips to keep himself from cackling, and then he gives up and does it, anyway, because Eddie looks like he just sucked a lemon while watching a dog die as his bandmates all start sing-shouting along. "We're talking away..."
"No." Eddie wheels around and points a finger at Steve, because Steve's singing, too.
Steve just sings louder. "I don't know what, I'm to say!"
"Oh, my god." He scrubs a hand down his face, dragging the skin down until Steve can see the pale pink of his inner eyelid. "Nobody I know has any goddamn taste!"
"Maybe you don't have any taste!" Robin teases, bouncing around and swinging her arms haphazardly to the music.
Nancy backs her up with a mumbled "Yeah!" but she's still spinning around in such tight circles that Steve doubts she has a single clue what's happening in the argument right now. Which is kind of endearing, actually. He likes how willing she is to stick up for people.
The chorus kicks in; Gareth air-drums the switch to half time just before Frank does an honestly super impressive falsetto of 'in a day or twoooooo', and Eddie despairs while Steve laughs his fucking head off.
part 46
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ginnsbaker · 8 days
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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (4/?)
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Part summary: Getting to know Leigh Shaw comes with some hardships—literally.
Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 4.600 | Warnings/Tags: Pining | A/N: Still haven't decided how many parts will there be, but for now, enjoy reader's POV as her interest in Leigh grows :)
Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Next
-
For some reason, you keep saying yes to Leigh Shaw.
Yes to providing your veterinary services for her.
Yes to divulging the private aspects of your relationship with Matt.
Yes to staying in her yoga class.
Yes to running very early in the morning, with a lung-busting pace that leaves you dehydrated and feeling queasy by the end of it.
As if to add insult to injury, Leigh Shaw doubles back to where you're lagging behind, barely hanging on for dear life. She flashes that cheeky grin, says, “Try to keep up,” and takes off again like it's nothing. You're left gasping for air, your heart screaming in agony as you attempt to match her pace, but Leigh's already a blur ahead. 
She was right—your endurance is really nowhere to be seen. It's in these moments, as you're pushing past what you thought were your limits, that you start to get why Leigh's both a pain and a push that was kind of missing before in your life. 
Leigh eventually vanishes around a corner, and consequently, you lose sight of her. You dig deep, pushing yourself to keep going, refusing to quit out of stubbornness and curiosity of what your body could do. By some miracle, you make it to the finish line, which turns out to be that park you've been to only once before with Matt. He had made it a special day with sandwiches and comics, while you got lost in a book he swore you’d love. You can’t shake off the feeling that this place is significant for Leigh and Matt too.
When you finally stumble in, there's Leigh, chilling on the grass, looking like she's lost in thought, her eyes dark with something you can't quite put your finger on. But then she spots you, and it's like someone flipped a switch. She’s back to the flippant Leigh—easygoing, as if nothing’s amiss.
“Was half expecting to find you passed out somewhere back there,” Leigh smirks up at you.
You can’t help but flop down next to her, letting the sun beat down on your face, feeling every bit of your skin that's exposed soaking up the warmth. Thirst claws at your throat, fierce and unforgiving. Gathering the little energy you have left, you manage to ask, “How long have you been waiting?”
Leigh glances at you, her casual ease belying the brief glimpse of concern you thought you'd seen earlier. “Oh, about five minutes,” she says, her tone light, as if the grueling run was nothing more than a leisurely stroll for her.
You pant out, “Why are you so fast, anyway?” 
Leigh bursts into laughter, finding your question absurdly funny. “Fast? Me? That's hardly competitive speed, you're just... completely out of shape.”
You pout, feeling slightly offended but too exhausted to argue. Stretching out beside her, you let out a series of groans and pops, feeling your muscles protest and then slowly relax. “Feels like I'm a hundred years old,” you mutter with a heavy sigh.
Still chuckling, Leigh shakes her head. “I've been running for three years now. It's more of a hobby, really, but I need to stay active for my job at the Beautiful Beast. Or my mom will fire me.”
“Your family owns that place?”
Leigh corrects you quickly, “Not my family, just my mom. And being the owner's daughter doesn't give me a pass to slack off. I can't afford to be terrible at my job.”
Her distinction between “my family” and “my mom” sticks with you. It seems like a clue into her family dynamics. In the short time you've known her, Leigh comes across as straightforward, genuinely helpful, and yes, perhaps a bit quick-tempered, but overall...she's okay. 
More than okay, actually. She must be incredible to those she truly cares about. So, what went wrong with her and Matt? How could he betray her like that? It’s even more baffling when you remember Leigh saying they were trying for a baby. That detail still turns your stomach, and you're endlessly grateful you never went down that path with him, despite once wishing things had gone differently.
Lost in your thoughts, you don't realize how intently you've been staring at Leigh until she calls you out on it. “What is it?” she asks, her voice pulling you back to the present.
Flustered, you find yourself asking the question that's been simmering in your mind, since you first pulled on your sneakers for that 5k this morning. “Why'd you bring me along for your run? Why are you even helping me?”
Leigh just gives an offhand shrug, says, “Well, you didn't have to show up, so you're actually helping yourself.”
“Fair enough,” you reply, but can't shake off a bit of disappointment. The truth is, you were hoping she'd say something that suggested she was up for being friends, or at least saw you as more than just another client of hers.
It's weird, really, why you keep wanting to be friends with Leigh Shaw.
Suddenly, Leigh glances at her watch and looks up at you. “Ready to go?” she asks, a bit impatiently.
“If I can still walk after this, sure,” you say, half-joking, half-serious, feeling the effects of the run in every muscle.
Leigh laughs at that, a genuine, hearty laugh that lights up her face. It's a sound that's real and unguarded, making you think that maybe, becoming friends with her isn't such a far-fetched idea after all.
-
Yoga sessions with Leigh stick to the script you first stumbled into. She's all business, only really tossing you a nod or a word when your form goes sideways. “Shoulders down, back straight,” she corrects you, her voice firm, yet not unkind. Outside of that, you might as well blend into the walls for all the personal attention she gives, just like anyone else there. Everyone gets the same treatment—tough love, dished out in equal measure.
Despite her imposing presence, there's something else, a depth to her that often seems just out of reach. You catch her sometimes, looking out the window with a distant gaze. But then she blinks, shakes it off, and is back, fully attentive and ready to guide the next pose.
“Focus on your breathing,” Leigh's voice snaps you out of your focus on her. “Inhale deeply, and as you exhale, sink deeper into the pose.”
Determined to excel, you pour all your effort into being the student Leigh doesn’t need to worry about. Ironically, your diligence only seems to make you more invisible to her. As you master the poses with less need for correction, Leigh's interactions with you dwindle further.
After class, you toy with the idea of approaching her. Maybe get some feedback, or even suggest grabbing dinner together so you don't have to eat alone. But as you're putting together what to say, you notice Leigh seems in a hurry. She exchanges a few quick words with another instructor who's just arrived, and before you can decide, she's excusing herself and heading out.
The moment to ask her has slipped away, leaving you to pack your yoga mat with a resigned sigh. 
Another time, then, you think.
-
The next day, without another invite from Leigh for a run, you lace up your shoes and follow the same route you and Leigh took together. Just 20 minutes into the run, the solo effort feels more like a chore than the engaging challenge it was with company. You loop the route four times, hoping maybe to cross paths with Leigh purely by coincidence, but she’s nowhere to be found. 
The studio had announced last night that Leigh’s yoga classes would be temporarily led by a different teacher, with her expected to return next week. This bit of news leaves you mulling about her absence, kind of hoping you might accidentally run into her to find out more. But as the week goes by without any such encounters, you realize you actually know very little about her daily routines or habits. Despite the nagging curiosity, you refrain from texting her, not wanting to intrude or anything.
Admittedly, your motivation to work out dipped slightly without Leigh being part of it.
-
When you finally talk yourself into visiting Matt’s grave, you do so just minutes before it could get really dark. You've chosen this time deliberately, betting on the common fear that keeps most people away from cemeteries as night approaches. 
Your main concern isn't the general public, though; it's just Leigh. Past experiences have shown that encounters with her can happen unexpectedly and in the most random of places—like that night at the club when she ended up getting sick just a few inches away from you. You're not here out of a longing for Matt. Instead, you aim to properly close this chapter of your life, hoping to do so without running into his widow and giving her the wrong impression.
The air holds a chill that wasn't there when you left home, making you wrap your jacket tighter around yourself. It’s quiet, just the sound of your own footsteps crunching softly on the path. Being here as the day turns to night, watching shadows stretch out long and skinny, really gets you thinking about life, death, and everything else in-between. Maybe that's also why people avoid this place—it sort of forces you to face the music, making you curious if all the things you're wrapped up in are actually important or utterly pointless. 
As for you, you haven't quite figured out where you stand on that yet. Lately, you've really come into your own in your career, especially now that you’re seeing the profits steadily rising each month. But that sense of achievement fades each evening as you return to your empty apartment. It's just you, night after night, pushing through the grind, pouring everything into your job. Yet, when you try to envision where you'll be in five years from now, the picture isn't clear. Will you be settling down with someone, or just picking up the pieces from another relationship that’s gone awry?
Finding Matt's grave takes a moment, but when you do, your heart clenches. It’s just a simple stone with his name, the years he was here, and a couple of words(you’re guessing it’s Leigh who wrote them) about him. 
You kneel down, the grass cool and slightly damp beneath you, and lay the flowers you've brought on his grave. They look kind of bright against the dimming light. Like hope.
“Hey Matt,” you say, stepping into a silence that feels like it's hanging around, just waiting for you to fill it. Talking to a dead person feels ridiculous like they do in the movies, but it's not like anyone's around to hear you.
“You know, I met Leigh,” you begin. “Your wife you conveniently forgot to mention when you were busy asking me out.”
There's a sour edge to your voice, airing grievances to a guy who can't throw back excuses anymore. You can't help but chuckle, though it's more bitter than amused. You let your thoughts more freely now, like the barrier between you and Matt has thinned out with the honesty. 
“Leigh is… beautiful, you know? Not in that runway or social media kind of way, but in a manner that's hard to just overlook.” 
You could list a dozen more positive things about Leigh to tell Matt, but he already knew all that, didn't he?
“The first time I met her, I felt small, maybe even insecure. And now?” you shake your head, smiling slightly. “...I still do. But mostly, I'm just left thinking…” You pause. The next thought isn't really for Matt, not anymore. 
It’s for you.
“I just can't wrap my head around why you'd want to be with me when you had her. I feel like the murder weapon that's trying to seek justice for its victim.” You let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Not a great spot to be in, honestly. Makes me feel kind of helpless, you know?"
Sitting back, you take a moment, just looking at the headstone, at the name etched into the granite. The conversation, if you can call it that, feels like it's shifted something inside you. Not closure, exactly, but maybe the first step towards understanding—or at least accepting—that some things just don't make sense.
Standing up, you dust off your knees, taking one last look at the grave. “Anyway, Matt, I hope you've found peace. It looks like we're all searching for a little of that ourselves. Thanks for the book suggestions. Though, you might be a bit disappointed to hear Agatha Christie remains my top favorite.”
As you walk away from Matt's grave, it feels as though you're leaving a piece of yourself behind to rest with him. You decide then, as the cemetery gate closes behind you with a gentle click, that you won't let this page in your book define you. Maybe tomorrow, you'll try a new coffee shop, or take a different route to work. Small changes, but important ones.
Maybe you’ll even try that spin class that scares you so.
-
“Since when did you start living at the gym?” Suzie teases you from her spot across the desk, that signature playful, all-knowing arch to her eyebrow.
Suzie, who had originally come on board as a receptionist at your vet clinic with little more than enthusiasm and a genuine love for animals to her name, had quickly become much more than just a staff member. Her lack of relevant experience was initially a concern, but her dedication and the way she connected with both the animals and their owners made it clear she was a perfect fit. Over time, she evolved from being just the receptionist to a friend. 
A friend who seems to enjoy teasing you, though.
“First off, it’s hardly the gym. It’s this fitness class I’ve been trying out—big distinction,” you clarify, eyes glued on your phone. The last half hour has been a slow crawl towards 5 PM, the magical hour when you can finally shut down and head to Leigh’s class at Beautiful Beast.
“Tomatoes, to-mah-toes,” she quips.
“Not the same thing,” you insist, still not fully engaged in the conversation, your focus on a food article you're reading.
Suzie just waves her hand dismissively. “Semantics. But seriously, you've been really into whatever this is. There's gotta be a guy making those sweat sessions worth it.”
You can't help but laugh, the idea so off base it circles back to being hilarious. 
“Trust me, the allure isn't the sweat. It's those endorphins,” you say.
“Yeah, sure,” she drawls, unconvinced. “Come on. Who is it? I know you're not this amped to be all gross and sweaty for nothing.”
“There's no guy, Suzie.” Then, as if the thought just occurred to you, you add, “Or girl. But honestly, there's really no one.”
At that, Suzie's expression shifts from playful teasing to one of pleasant surprise and a touch of mock offense. “Hold up, you might be into girls? And here I was, shooting my shot in the dark this whole time!”
Your ears burn red at her blunt flirtation. “Suzie, come on,” you stammer.
“If I had known that was on the table, I would’ve upped my game ages ago,” she says, her wink sending your face from warm to inferno.
“You’re impossible,” you manage to say as you hurry to collect your things, ready to rush out the door.
“Impossibly into you,” she retorts saucily.
“I’m gonna have to fire you, you know,” you mutter jokingly, glancing at your watch. “Gotta run, bye!”
“Just so we're clear, the offer stands,” she adds, still grinning.
-
You feel a sense of relief seeing Leigh back in class. 
Though the website clearly stated her schedule, you found yourself on edge until you could see Leigh with your own eyes. There's nothing noticeably different about her; Leigh seems just as composed and in control as ever. When she catches you looking, she offers a small, somewhat dismissive smile before turning her attention elsewhere. 
You spend the whole session with your energy dialed up, partly because Leigh's presence just does that, and partly because you're already plotting. As soon as she calls time on the session, you're practically springing into action. Your belongings—a water bottle, towel, and the rest—land in a haphazard pile on the floor as you quickly stand up, eager to catch her before she disappears. You make your way toward her, determined not to let her slip away this time.
Leigh's busy packing up her own gear, her back to you as you close the distance. “Hey, Leigh,” you say, and it sounds like you've got this under control, even if your heart's hammering away in your chest. She turns, and there's a flicker of surprise in her expression. You’re hoping it’s the good kind of surprise.
“I'm really glad you're back,” you push on, hoping it doesn't sound as clumsy to her as it does in your head.
She takes a swig from her water bottle, giving you a once-over, and then says, “Thanks. Do you need anything?” There's an expectant look in her eyes, and in that moment, your confidence begins to wane, melting under her gaze. You're on the spot, scrambling for words, any words that don't involve asking her out for dinner, which suddenly seems like an insurmountable task.
“Uh, actually,” you start, your mind racing to find a safe topic, “I was wondering if you had any tips on improving my form?”
Leigh's expression softens, and she nods, setting her water bottle down. “Sure, I can show you a few things. Let's go back to the mats,” she suggests, leading the way. Despite feeling like your tank is on empty and your body crying for hydration, backing down doesn’t feel like an option. 
Not when Leigh is already spreading her mat next to yours. She does so with a sort of blasé authority, and you can't help but think how this is Leigh all over—straight to the point, no fuss. You're tired, sure, and a part of you is suggesting that you're about to make a fool of yourself with your shaky legs and probably even shakier form. But then, Leigh starts talking, pointing out where you're going wrong and how to fix it, and suddenly, you're not thinking about dinner anymore. You’re too distracted now by the smell of her perfume mixed with the scent of her sweat.
The next few minutes turn into what feels like a whole new session under Leigh's watchful eyes. She's on you about everything—the angle of your arm, the set of your shoulders, even the way you're distributing your weight on your feet. Leigh's not mean about it, but she doesn't let anything slide. You're just trying to keep up, watching her move with that easy confidence. It's mesmerizing, really, how she can make something so complex look so simple.
By the time you're done, your muscles are burning, your breath is ragged, and you're pretty sure you've sweated out every last drop of water in your body. As you lie there, staring at the ceiling and asking yourself how a ten-minute guidance turned into an even harder session, you mentally kick yourself for not just admitting you wanted company for dinner. It was right there, and you were too scared to be rejected. 
But why? Considering everything that's happened and the circumstances, Leigh turning you down seems like the more probable outcome anyway.
And then Leigh does something totally offbeat. She glances at the clock, then back at you, and out of nowhere, she's asking, “Want to grab something to eat?”
It's so unexpected, that for a moment, you're sure you misheard her. But Leigh's waiting for an answer, a slight smile playing on her lips, and suddenly, the fatigue feels a little less overwhelming. You sit up, a slow grin spreading across your face as you realize this is it—your chance, handed to you when you least expected it.
“Yeah,” you finally manage to say, almost tripping over your tongue. “Yeah, that'd be great.”
-
When Leigh mentioned grabbing something to eat, you expected a sit-down at some cozy restaurant serving healthy food. Instead, she pulls into the drive-thru of a fast-food joint, orders a mountain of fries and a couple of burgers, and parks the car in a secluded spot overlooking the city. It's laid-back, unpolished, and honestly, pretty perfect.
“So, how long have you been in town?” Leigh asks as she hands you a burger, the city lights twinkling below like a scattered deck of glowing cards.
“Just over a year,” you reply, taking a hearty bite of your burger. “Moved here for the business opportunity, but it’s been... you know, slow on the social front.”
Leigh nods, understandingly. “It can be tough, starting fresh somewhere. This place isn't the friendliest to newcomers.”
Your eyebrow lifts, curious whether she's speaking from her own experiences or perhaps someone else's.
“Yeah, most of my socializing happens online these days. My closest friends are scattered across different states,” you say.
Leigh just hums a bit, not really adding anything else. She doesn't go into details about her own friends, so you're left trying to think of something else to talk about. But everything that comes to mind feels too personal, like asking why she wasn't at the Beautiful Beast for a week, how she's dealing with being a widow, or questions about her family.
Small talk isn't really your thing, so the conversation fizzles out from here. Both of you just end up staring out at the city lights in silence. Leigh seems comfortable with it though, so you decide to just go with it and savor the quiet moment too.
After a while, Leigh breaks the silence. “I didn't think I'd be able to love another dog after Rogue,” she shares, not taking her eyes off the cityscape. “Matt and I had to put her down because she was sick. It was brutal. I swore off dogs after that.”
You look over at her and offer a soft, “I'm sorry.”
But there's no trace of sadness on her face. It’s so nonchalant, almost as if she’s just talking about the weather and not a painful memory.
“But then...I saw Visitor,” she goes on, a small smile cracking through. “I just knew he needed me. And, this might sound odd, but I realized I wanted to feel needed. When Matt—” She stumbles over his name, a rare falter, but she's quick to brush it off. “When he died, nobody needed me. And I struggled with that. Because being needed felt like a purpose.”
The idea of needing to be needed isn't something you've ever considered. Truth is, you've never really needed anyone. You've been a solo act for as long as you can remember, handling things on your own, relying solely on your own capabilities. And so, that also meant you couldn't imagine being on the other side of the spectrum—being needed by someone.
However, there's a part of you, unexpectedly, that feels a twinge of jealousy towards Leigh. To truly experience loss, there first has to be something meaningful to lose. You're not sure you've ever let yourself have that kind of bond with anyone. Not yet, anyway. It's a sobering thought, making you think about what you might be missing out on.
Leigh notices you're not saying much and says, “I don't even know why I'm telling you all this. I'm sorry.”
You shake your head slightly, “It's okay. I just... I don't think I've ever been in your shoes.”
Leigh looks a bit puzzled. “What do you mean? Are you talking about the dog thing, or…?”
“The other thing,” you clarify.
Leigh smirks. “Oh, I wish I was like that.”
You quickly realize how arrogant that must have sounded, so you rush to explain, “No, I'm not trying to brag or anything. It's just, I guess I've never really opened myself up to that kind of bond.”
“Not even with Matt?” she asks, and there it is—the topic of Matt you've been tiptoeing around. You're suddenly aware that Matt's shadow is something you'll have to get used to, just as Leigh apparently has, given the unceremonious way she alludes to your almost-affair with her late husband. 
“No,” you whisper, looking straight into Leigh's eyes, hoping she’ll believe you. “We never needed each other like that.”
Leigh's eyes linger on yours a moment longer before she looks away. Eager to change the subject, you add, “Must've been rough, giving Visitor back to his real family.”
“Yeah. I mean, I shouldn't be, right? But part of me was actually angry at them for letting him get away like that. He could've been hit by a car or worse, all because they weren't careful. But at the end of the day,” she stops, a sigh escaping her, and that smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes comes back as she looks at you again. “He’s not mine.”
“Visitor really snuck into your heart, didn’t he?”
Leigh nods. “I wasn't expecting to care that much, you know?” Then, she offers a small, reflective chuckle. “Makes you think about the connections we allow ourselves to have, and the ones we avoid, doesn't it?”
You try to gauge whether she's still talking about Visitor while also trying to figure out where you stand—the connections she's chosen or the ones she sidesteps?  Before you find the courage to ask, Leigh starts the car and presses down on the clutch, ready to switch gears.
“I need to head back to the studio, so I can only drop you off somewhere on the way,” Leigh says, signaling the end of your time together for now.
You quickly decide that being dropped off at the studio is fine. “The Beautiful Beast works for me,” you reply, hoping to extend the time you have left with her, even if it's just by a few minutes. 
The ride is quiet, the earlier ease replaced by a thoughtful silence. You're watching her, the way she's all eyes on the road but clearly lost in her head. Leigh, as you’ve noticed, is someone hard to get to open up, her walls built high and strong. She's this fortress of a person, but tonight felt different, like she accidentally left a window open and you caught a glimpse inside. 
It just makes you crave for more.
As the studio comes into view, it feels like you've both made some progress with Leigh and yet, somehow, not made any at all. Stepping out of the car, you’re met by Jules, another staff member at the Beautiful Beast whom you've heard Leigh refer to numerous times, approaches. You barely catch her saying, “Danny is waiting for you inside,” to Leigh. You miss the frown on Jules's face or how Leigh instantly seems on edge.
“Thanks for the ride—and for dinner,” you say, feeling a bit out of place now.
“Don't get used to it,” she says, the corners of her lips twisting into a reluctant smile. “Was nice talking, though. Thanks for not making it weird.”
As she's quickly pulled away by whatever's going on inside, you hover for a second, debating if you should go in for a goodbye hug. But before you know it, Leigh is tossing a quick “Bye” in your direction as she strides towards the studio.
You're left there, floating in the aftermath, wondering about everything and nothing all at once.
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