#then to change their present and now there they are

[hischierhoney]

Just Friends

Jack Hughes x Best Friend!Reader

summary: You’ve been best friends with Jack for ages. He’s also been in love with you for ages, but he’s got that completely under control. Really, he does. Right? 5.2k words

warnings: alcohol/intoxication, non graphic mentions of surgery/blood/stitches, hospital stay, reference to Jack’s shoulder surgery :(

Jack finds you in his apartment kitchen, a black tie in his hand. He’s already dressed in his suit pants and shirt, and for once, he feels like hair looks almost presentable. You take the tie from him without a word, and you loop it around his neck, underneath the collar of his shirt. Meanwhile, he grabs your necklace off the counter and fiddles with the clasp.

You hum to yourself as you start to tie the tie. “Ready for the game today?”

He shrugs. “I’m always ready.”

Luke is there, too, shoveling cereal into his mouth and watching the two of you warily. As you loop the tie around your fingers, Jack slips the necklace around your neck, your skin soft under his fingers. He latches it, blindly, with expert precision, muscle memory. He’s done it a million times now.

You tug the tie into place and then smooth it out on his chest. He hasn’t put his jacket on yet, but you’ll fix the lapels of it, too. You take a half a step back and give him a once over. He stands, waiting for your approval with his breath held in his chest. It shouldn’t mean this much, you making sure he looks good, but it does. You reach up and tuck a lock of hair back into place atop his head, and he smiles happily.

“All good,” you say, dusting your hands together as if you’ve just finished a hard day’s work.

Jack squints at your face, spotting something, and he brings a finger up to brush against your cheekbone. “Eyelash,” he explains, and you hum, closing your eyes as he brushes it away. “Got it.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. “Come on, don’t wanna be late. And no cereal in the car, Luke.”

Jack rushes off to grab his jacket. When he comes back, Luke is dumping the last of his cereal into the sink, and Jack grimaces. You’re in the hallway, stepping into a pair of shoes. Luke turns to him with a smirk, and Jack shakes his head before his brother can even open his mouth.

“Don’t,” he whispers.

Luke rolls his eyes. “I just think you guys are-“

“You thinking is dangerous,” Jack says. “Save all that energy for the game.”

He walks away, down the hallway to find you. You reach up to fix his jacket for him, and then you reach for the car keys and hand them off to him. He grins and nudges his elbow against your side.

“You’re such a passenger princess,” he teases.

You shrug. “I’m very good at it!”

He’s not complaining, really. There’s nobody he’d rather see in his passenger seat than you. Your jersey hangs proudly from your shoulders, his name and number on the back, and it makes his chest feel warm. You’re his good luck charm. He just hasn’t told you that yet.

…..

Jack’s spent so much time convincing his brothers and his teammates and his parents that he’s not in love with you, that he can’t pinpoint when it actually happened. He’s not sure there was some big moment, some realization, some day where he looked at you and everything changed. You’ve just been so present in his life that maybe it was a sort of gradual thing. Maybe it’s always been there, and he’s been in denial since he was eleven and Quinn was teasing him on the playground near their house.

Now you’re in New York, closer than you have been in years, both distance wise and friendship wise. You have season tickets, because he’s playing in the NHL and he wants you at every game possible. You spend half your nights at his place when he’s home, and he ignores the funny looks Luke gives him about it. Honestly, he’s a bit tired of denying it all. He thinks maybe if someone just asked point blank he’d let it all spill out.

He reads the text from you and smiles- you’re on your way to the Rock, one of your friends in tow. He’d gotten you two seats for the season, so you wouldn’t have to sit alone. He sort of dreads the day you decide to bring a date, but then he wonders what guy would be stupid enough to go along with that. Jack’s cocky, he’ll admit it. He knows he’s good at hockey. He laughs at the thought of you dragging a date along to see him play.

Someone announces they’re ordering food before the game, from the deli down the street. Jack listens as his teammates put in their orders. Luke goes with his usual. Timo changes things up. When the assistant gets to him, he grins. He orders his go to, and then another, and asks for a can of Coke, too, for good measure. Luke gives a knowing roll of his eyes.

When the guy brings the food in, Jack takes his bag, fishes his sandwich out of it, and hands the other sandwich and the can of Coke back. “Can you get this to seat B322?” He asks, grinning widely. He knows your seat number by heart.

Luke sighs heavily next to him. The guy agrees, of course. Nico, who’s standing nearby, cocks his head in confusion.

“She’s coming straight from work,” Jack defends. The ribbing he gets from the guys will be worth it when he sees you after the game. “She’s gonna be hungry.”

“It’s a hockey arena,” Luke says drily. “There’s so much food here.”

“But she loves Krauszer’s,” Jack says, and Nico rolls his eyes. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t order her some?”

“Friend,” Nico says, drawing out the word. “Sure.”

Jack ignores him. He ignores Luke’s smirk, too. He eats his sandwich and finishes getting ready, and then he heads out onto the ice, knowing you’re there somewhere, probably sipping on a can of Coke.

…..

The issue, Jack finds, is that it’s getting harder to ignore the fact that he’s in love with you.

It was easier, before, when you were younger and he was more dumb and less aware of… everything. He could convince himself it was just puppy love, just absence making the heart grow fonder, when post high school saw the two of you split apart. But now you’re here, close, and yet not close enough. Jack wants more, and he can’t really ignore that feeling these days.

He’s out at a bar, team bonding, as Nico put it. Except that half the team is drunk, including Nico, and the only bonding Jack’s doing is the brotherly kind, trying to keep Luke from sneaking drinks, or worse, getting caught sneaking drinks. Sometimes he hates being an older brother. He’d wanted to come out, maybe talk to a girl, maybe take said girl home, or get her to take him back to her place so he wouldn’t have to worry about Luke overhearing. But it’s not really working, not with Nico hanging off his shoulder like a leech and Luke sneaking another shot, and god, Jack’s going to kill him. If you were here, you’d be keeping an eye on Luke, too. He wishes you were here.

He has a shot to take the edge of the annoyance off. Then he has another, and another, and then there’s a girl across the bar, smiling at him, and- she sort of looks like you, is the thing, but not quite. The sort of uncanny valley of it all is freaking him out. For a moment he wonders if hooking up with her would make it better- would get it out of his system, would scratch the itch. The sane, more sober part of him thinks it might just make it all worse. To have some girl under him and hear a voice that isn’t yours. Jack used to do this all the time. The thought of it makes him feel sick now. That’s new.

He downs another shot and passes his leech of a captain off on his problem of a brother, hoping the two of them will keep each other in line. Then he pulls his phone from his pocket and gets an Uber.

It’s only when he’s standing at your apartment door that he realizes he probably should’ve called first. You might already be asleep. You might be out. Maybe you have a guy over. His stomach does a somersault at the thought. He raises his hand to knock anyways- he’s come all this way.

You open the door with a smile on your face. “Nico called to ask if I knew where you went. Thought you might be headed here.”

Jack lets his shoulders drop. “They were annoying me.”

That’s not the real reason he left, but he can’t exactly tell you he saw the uncanny valley version of you and decided to leave. That would be… a lot. You seem to take his answer as the truth, because Luke is annoying on a night out, and Nico can be, too. Jack still probably should’ve told them he was leaving. He’ll get an earful about it. Oh well. The way you step aside to let him into your apartment makes it worth it.

He heads for the couch, and you laugh when he flops onto it, facedown. He likes your laugh. It sounds so much like you. He remembers the years when you were in college and he was far, far away from you, when he’d crack jokes on the phone calls just to hear you giggle. He presses his face into a pillow and hopes you don’t see the blush on his cheeks, or that you’ll attribute it to his drunkenness.

“Want food?” You call out, from the kitchen, he thinks. He groans loudly in response. “I have mozz sticks.”

He turns his head to the side and says, “fuck, I love you.”

He can say it here, in the comfort and privacy of your living room, in the relative safeness of the fact that he’s been drinking. You won’t think anything of it. You won’t realize how much he really means it.

The sound of your laugh is music to his ears. “Love you too, Rowdy.”

You don’t mean it the way he wants you to. That’s okay. He came to terms with that a while ago, listening to you say it over staticky phone calls. But you’ll make him mozzarella sticks, and you’re not upset that he’s here, so he’ll take it. He’ll take anything, really.

You come into the living room a few minutes later, plate full of food in hand, and make him roll over. He sits up slightly, leaning against the arm of the couch, and you lift his legs to sit under them. He doesn’t complain when you turn on some stupid reality tv show he hates- there are mozzarella sticks for him to eat, and the warmth of you under him, the weight of your arm where it’s draped across his calves. He can put up with the host’s annoying voice for this.

He falls asleep on your couch, half a mozz stick in his hand. When he wakes up, he’s tucked in with the quilt you’ve had for years now, a pillow under his head, and water waiting for him on the coffee table. You’re probably at work by now. He’ll send you a text to say thank you, later, unless he decides to just wait here until you come home. That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea, really.

…..

It’s a Saturday, and Luke is out for lunch with some of the other younger players, so Jack’s fending for himself. Trevor, knowing this due to what he would call their cosmic connection, has seen it as an opportunity to talk Jack’s ear off over FaceTime. Jack has his phone propped on the kitchen counter, half listening as he cooks.

He loves Trevor- really, he does, but the guy could talk for hours upon hours and never run out of things to say. Jack lets him, because he knows Trevor likes talking, so he’s not going to be mean. He just chimes in with noises of agreement or disagreement at the right times. Then Trevor says your name, and he zones back in.

“I fucking knew you weren’t listening!” Trevor cackles, wide grin taking up most of the phone screen. “But the second I mention-“

“Shut up,” Jack groans, rolling his eyes. “I’m listening. I’m just also making lunch.”

“Right, right,” Trevor snarks. “Just for you?”

Jack knows what he’s insinuating. Honestly, as much as he hates to admit it, it’s not a bad idea. You’re not working today, and he could probably convince you to come hang out with him in exchange for free food. He’s bored enough to listen to Trevor go on and on. You could save him from it.

“Yeah,” he says, and immediately contradicts himself by picking up his phone and sending you a text.

He tries to listen this time, he really does. He cares about Trevor, he wants to hear what he has to say. He finishes cooking lunch, and then Trevor has to go, shouting something to someone in the background, and he hangs up. Jack sighs at the empty, quiet room. He thinks about texting Luke to see when he’ll be back, but that feels pathetic. Maybe Nico’s not busy.

His heart leaps when his phone buzzes with a text from you.

Lunch sounds good. I’ll be over soon.

He can’t wipe the grin off his face the whole rest of the day. You come over, and eat the rest of the food happily, sitting at the kitchen counter. He watches fondly and tells you all the drama Trevor just told him- screw you, Zegras, he was listening. You smile brightly up at him.

“Got plans for the rest of the day?” He asks, hoping desperately that you don’t.

You shrug. “Nope. I’m all yours.”

God, he wishes.

…..

Jack thinks that maybe, just maybe, he can’t really be blamed when it all comes crashing down on a Wednesday afternoon in April. It’s been coming for a while. He’s had time to prepare. It shouldn’t take him out the way it does, because he’s seen it coming from miles away. It shouldn’t, but it does anyways.

They pull him from the games and finally, finally, ship him off to Colorado to have surgery. He gets an email with the flight information, another with a hotel to stay in the night before, and instructions on how to book his flight back to Jersey after he’s released. They don’t want to book it now, for fear of something going wrong in surgery. Hockey teams are superstitious like that, even their travel management.

There’s another set of emails, too- ones from the surgeon, about his prep and things he needs to do and bring and what to expect from the healing process. He hasn’t bothered to open it. That’ll make it real. He just packs up some of his clothes, shuts himself in his room, and waits. He ignores Luke, then he ignores Nico, who he’s sure Luke has brought over. He ignores Quinn’s phone calls, too, and everyone else’s.

When you show up, though, knocking on his bedroom door and calling out his name, he can’t ignore it. He makes a noise that isn’t a go away, and you take it as an invitation in, which he supposes it was. You make a soft noise of disapproval when you see him, curled up in his bed, hood pulled up around his head to block out the world.

“Hey, J,” you murmur, padding your way across his bedroom. “What’s going on?”

He sniffles and presses his face into the mattress. “The surgery.”

You sigh and sit down on the edge of his bed. “Yeah.”

Jack’s not afraid of having surgery, really. He’s never been very squeamish, never one to shy away from blood draws or stitches or IVs. You know this. Everyone knows it, which is probably why they’re all so worried about his reaction to this. He doesn’t want to admit it really, but it’s you, so he finds the words slipping past his lips.

“Mom can’t come,” he says, voice raw and scraping. “Or dad. Too short notice. And- and Luke and Nico and Quinn are gonna be busy, obviously, and I just… all this talk about surgery all this time and I didn’t think I’d have to do it alone, you know? It couldn’t wait till after the season so I could-“

He breaks off into an embarrassing, breath stealing sob. You make a soothing little noise and lean down next to him, scooping him up into your arms. It sort of helps and sort of makes it worse. The tears flow freely now. It’s just you. All his walls are down.

“You won’t be by yourself, Jack,” you murmur, and he waits for the reassuring words, that you’ll all be with him in spirit, that he’ll be home in no time, that he’s never alone. Instead, you say, “I took some time off. I’m gonna fly out with you, be there for the surgery.”

He pries one eye open, waiting for the punch line. There isn’t one. Just you, watching him carefully, holding him close. He knows how hard it is for you to get time off right now. It’s your busy season at work. And yet, here you are. Tears start running again. The whole world goes blurry. You just brush them away, one by one.

“Oh, honey,” you soothe, voice low and soft. “You didn’t think I’d let you do it alone, did you?”

God, he loves you. And he thinks this might be the final straw, the last puzzle piece. There’s no denying it now. You brush stray hairs from his face and press warm kisses to his forehead while he admits that he’s scared, not of the surgery but of what comes after, of the healing and the rehab and everything involved in it. You draw soothing patterns on his skin and just listen, because you know him well enough to know he needs to get it off his chest. He thinks about telling you how much he loves you as he starts to drift off, but he thinks better of it. There’ll be a better time than this, tear stained and curled up in his bed like a little kid. For now, it’s enough to know you love him, in any way, shape, or form.

…..

Jack wakes up in a hospital bed in Vail, Colorado, utterly disoriented and freezing cold. The ceiling is this ugly grey color, just like the rest of the ceilings in the building have been. He’s spent a lot of time staring at them in the last 24 hours. He blinks, and the tiles blur and swirl, and he hears his name in your voice. He tries to hold on, but he’s so, so sleepy, so he closes his eyes.

He wakes up again with no idea how long he’s been out. He’s warmer now. There’s an extra blanket laid over him, and a hand holding his. Hm. It feels nice. He squeezes his fingers experimentally. He hears movement to his left. A plastic cup appears in his field of vision, and he suddenly realizes how thirsty he is. He turns, slightly, and finds you.

“You’re here,” he says, quietly.

Your face is a little out of focus, but he thinks you smile. “Yeah, of course I am. Told you I would be.”

He knows that. He knows you flew out here with him, eating snacks on the plane before he hit the 12 hours before surgery mark and he had to stop. You checked into the hotel with him, got all the supplies ready for after the surgery, got him here, promised you’d be waiting when he woke up. But now he’s here, post surgery, and you’re holding his hand, and his chest hurts in the best way.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry,” you murmur, lifting the cup to his lips. He takes a sip. “Does it hurt?”

He shakes his head gingerly. He’s a little achy, but nothing that would make him cry normally. He can’t help it, it’s probably the meds. He remembers crying when he got his wisdom teeth out, too. He tries to tell you as much, but it comes out garbled and teary and raw. You shush him, smoothing your hand over his forehead and pushing his hair out of his face. That feels nice. You’re warm.

“Okay. It’s okay,” you soothe. “Take a breath. It’s alright.”

He does his best. You help him take little sips of water, and eventually the tears dry up. He’s left sitting there, your hand running through his hair, and he suddenly feels so, so sleepy. He turns his head and blinks at you. You’re clear in his vision now, beautiful as ever.

“You’re pretty,” he mumbles.

He thinks it all the time, he may as well say it. Nothing’s holding him back now. You laugh, and your face gets blurry again. He sighs.

“You’re pretty,” you say back.

He rolls his eyes, but he smiles anyways. “Hmm.”

“Are you sleepy?” You ask, thumb brushing against his temple. He nods. “You can go to sleep, okay?”

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” He asks, feeling a little vulnerable, suddenly.

“Yeah, Jacky,” you murmur, and when he closes his eyes, he thinks he feels your lips against his temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The third time he wakes up, you’re sitting next to him, eating ice cream out of a little plastic cup with one of the tiny wooden spoons. The tv in the room is playing that same stupid reality show. The host’s voice would piss him off if he wasn’t so focused on how adorable you look. He inches the fingers of his good hand towards you, towards where your knee is pressed against his bed. When he makes contact, you jump nearly a foot in the air. He can’t help but giggle.

“Jesus,” you mutter, shaking your head at him.

“Nah, just Jack,” he teases.

You roll your eyes. “Someone’s feeling better.”

If he’s being honest, he still feels a little loopy. Your face is in focus, but everything feels a little softer around the edges. His fingers scramble against your knee, and you laugh, leaning close. You set down the ice cream and reach to tangle your hand up in his. That’s nice. He doesn’t get to do that a lot- hold your hand. Maybe he should have surgery more often. You smooth his hair out of his face again. It’s such a caring motion that it sends his heart stuttering.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, quietly.

You shrug. “What kind of best friend would I be if I wasn’t?”

And. That’s nice, but it’s not really what he wants to hear. He wants you to be here because you love him. He probably wouldn’t spend hours in a hospital waiting room for Nico, probably wouldn’t sit and wait for him to wake up. He’d bring him food after, when he got home, would help him however he needed. But to fly halfway across the country just to be here? He’d do that for you in a heartbeat, but he’s not sure there are many others he’d do the same for.

You seem to notice the way he’s staring, and you wave the wooden spoon at him. “You want some ice cream? The nurse said to call when you actually woke up. I’m sure she’ll give you one if you turn on the charm.”

He blinks slowly. “I love you, you know that?”

It’s past his lips before he can take it back. It should be terrifying. He should feel sick to his stomach. Maybe it’s the hospital drugs, or maybe it’s just that he’s been holding it in for so long, but it doesn’t feel scary. He sort of just feels relieved.

You smile brightly. “Yeah, I love you, too, Jack.”

He huffs. “No, you don’t get it-“

Before he can get another word out, the nurse comes in. He wonders if you pressed the button when he wasn’t paying attention, or if hospital staff just have comically bad timing. He lets out a groan. You give him an amused smile.

“Welcome back, Jack,” the nurse says. He reads her nametag- Nancy. “I’m just going to do a little checkup, alright?” She turns to you. “If you want, you can step out into the hall.”

By the time he’s squeezing your hand to keep you there, you’re holding onto him tightly, too. Huh. That’s interesting.

“She can stay,” Jack says.

You nod. So does Nancy, a knowing smile on her lips. Jack wonders if she sees this a lot. Guys with friends who sit by their bed, oblivious to the fact that said guy is hopelessly in love with them. Maybe it’s a common thing in hospitals. Maybe it’s not just Jack. That’s a nice thought.

He gets his blood pressure taken, and his pulse, and he gets asked to take a few deep breaths for what seems to be just the fun of it. She asks his pain level- a 3, at which point you break in and tell the nurse that his three is more like a five. She smiles at the two of you. When she goes to leave, Jack speaks up.

“Could I have some ice cream?” He asks, hoping the way his voice cracks on the words makes her sympathetic.

Ice cream does sound good. His throat feels raw, and his mouth is dry. And he’s starving.

Nurse Nancy smiles and looks at you. “What do you think? Has he been well behaved enough?”

Normally, Jack would take a little offense to it. But he turns to you, and you’re smiling bright, lighting up the whole room. His stomach does a somersault. He wonders if the way he feels about you is visible on the heart monitor, if his pulse picks up every time he looks at you.

“He’s the best,” you answer, and he melts. “Give him all the ice cream you’ve got.”

Ten minutes later, you sit there, holding a container of chocolate vanilla swirl. He’d been ready to eat it on his own until he remembered his arm, the surgery, the whole reason he’s here. He’d had to settle for letting you feed it to him. Maybe settle is the wrong word, really. It’s nice to be taken care of, even nicer when you’re the one who’s doing it for him.

He thinks maybe he’s still loopy, because in between bites, he pauses, looks at you, opens his mouth, and puts his foot directly in it. “I meant it, you know. I love you.”

You nod. “I know.”

He’s too far into this to stop now. “No, I-“

You interrupt, dropping the spoon in the cup to place your hand over his. “Jack, honey. Tell me later, when you’re not high off anesthesia, okay?”

Oh. He cocks his head, slightly. His mouth tastes like chocolate and vanilla. You smell like flowers. Like the lilacs in the backyard of his childhood home. There’s a light and warmth in your eyes that makes everything feel a little bit better.

“And if I tell you later,” he says, feeling braver than he ever has before, “are you gonna tell me something back?”

You laugh. It’s still music to his ears. You pick up the spoon again, scooping up a bit of ice cream. His gaze stays locked on you.

“Yeah,” you say with a nod. “That I mean it the same way you mean it.”

That’s enough for Jack, for now.

He tells you again the next day, waits a full 24 hours because a part of him is worried it was all some sort of drug induced dream. But you’re packing up the suitcases, that same stupid show on the TV, and he turns to you where he sits on the edge of the bed and says it.

“I love you. Like, really love you. As more than a friend.” His heart is in his throat.

You drop the hoodie you’d been holding into the bag, walk across the room to him, and come to stand between his legs. He’s holding his breath. You hook your finger under his chin and pull his face to yours. He thinks he recognizes the look on your face, from the kitchen when you helped him tie his tie, from the living room with a plate of mozzarella sticks in your hand, from every moment he was feeling all his feelings for you.

“Yeah,” you say, kissing his cheek. “I really love you too.”

When you kiss him on the lips, soft and sweet and everything he’s wanted for ages now, he thinks that maybe the whole mess has been worth it.

…..

He sits in a wooden chair on the back deck of the lake house. It’s mid summer, the week of the 4th of July. The heat is nearly unbearable, heavy and sticky and inescapable. Trevor and Luke are on the grass, throwing a football back and forth. Jack’s trying not to check the time obsessively.

Quinn, who’s sitting next to him, gives him a look when he picks up his phone again. “She’ll get here when she gets here.”

Jack rolls his eyes and sinks further into his seat. “You’re a dick.”

“Jesus, I know she’s your friend but…” Quinn is shaking his head. “You’re being obsessive.”

He hasn’t told any of them. Not about the hospital bed confession, or the kiss, or anything that came after it. The flight back to Jersey, his head on your shoulder. The way you took care of him before he flew to Michigan for the off season. The late night calls the two of you have shared since then. He’s itching to see you. It’s been far too long. He’s been scared to tell them because he’s scared you’ll get here and it won’t be real. He’s being ridiculous, he knows it, but he can’t help it. It’s you.

He hears it when your car pulls up in the driveway. He stands up, ignoring the look Quinn gives him. He’s not quick enough- you must’ve parked and ran inside immediately. You come racing out onto the back porch, eyes wide, smile even wider, and he could melt into a puddle right there in the hot summer sun. You’re brighter than all of it.

He pulls you into a kiss right there, in front of everyone, earning a series of surprised yelps and gasps and cheers. He doesn’t care about anything else. You’re here, and you’re kissing him back, and that’s more than enough.

“Fucking called it!” Trevor yells, and Jack laughs.

“We all did,” Quinn says. “Glad you two finally figured it out.”

You won’t be here forever. You have work, and a life in the city. But for now, for this little slice of time, he gets to have everything he’s always wanted. That’ll hold him over for the rest of the off season. Or, more likely, until he caves in and gets an early flight back to Jersey to spend more time with you. From the way you smile when you stare up at him, he thinks it probably won’t be long.

a/n: thanks for reading! have been wanting to write about Jack for a bit & he’s just so best friends to lovers coded. so here we go!

#jack hughes x reader #jack Hughes x you #Jack Hughes fic #jack Hughes fanfic #Jack Hughes fluff #Jack Hughes fanfiction #jack Hughes imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #hockey fic #honey writes #jh86

[midnightsslut]

religion is one of the most prominent recurring themes on the album, and it has been present in some capacity for quite a few records now. taylor previously compared love to religion: her saving grace, her belief system, and a fated divine intervention (false god, cornelia street, and cruel summer are the best examples of this). ‘sacred new beginnings that became my religion’ and ‘we’d still worship this love even if it’s a false god’ are two of the defining statements about her philosophy on the lover album.

taylor doesn’t want to leave all of that behind on ttpd, at least not at the beginning. the first supernatural force she mentions is the spaceship on down bad, which she compares to a skylight of freedom in the epilogue. *something* has finally come to save her from her life of suffering. she doesn’t care if it’s a force of good at first; if anything, she’s just fine being taken away by aliens. she views this man as her destiny. it isn’t until guilty as sin? that taylor starts to ponder the moral implications of what she’s doing. is she guilty as sin for wanting to leave her previous religion and relationship behind? she comes to the conclusion that, even if she rolls the stone away and gets resurrected/redeemed, she cannot avoid the fallout. she is okay with the thought of having to wait, as long as both lovers vow to be together forever, just as she once did with someone else in false god. ‘I choose you and me religiously’ finishes the bridge of the song in a direct callback to cornelia street.

the next mention of religion has murkier imagery. she claims that she does not need the Lord’s help to save this man. she sees the halo that he has, and she can fix him herself. now that she feels free of her prior cage, she isn’t looking for divine intervention anymore. she wants control. she is their route to salvation.

when the relationship falls apart, she retreats back into the position of a believer rather than a divine figure. she compares him to a Holy Ghost who promised to save her and take her to heaven. instead, she is in hell in every sense of the word: she’s down bad and feels guilty for digging up the grave. he was a jehovah’s witness who promised that she could break free of the cage imposed by love without changing her religion altogether; she would’ve just had to switch denominations. she could still have a marriage and kids! she could still have a blue tortured poet! the man was different, but not the dreams they had together. the story of the first part of the album ends here. her faith has been broken, and she has only found any semblance of sanity by refusing to mention these belief systems altogether.

side b/the anthology blends the christian imagery of side a with goddesses, sorcerers, and prophecies. she bargains with these powers to let her have the future she wants (the prophecy). she doesn’t sound like someone believing in salvation. if anything, she feels cursed. she decides that the concept of divinely ordained timing will never work in certain relationships (‘the goddess of timing once found us beguiling / she said she was trying / peter, was she lying?’). this disdain extends onto her perception of other people’s faith (‘bet they never spared a prayer for my soul’). she does position herself as a prophet in cassandra, but even then, she admits that the role has hurt her. perhaps the pain in thank you aimee was meant to be, or perhaps she was just strong enough to build a legacy in spite of it, boulder by boulder. is she a martyr? does she want to be? or did she save herself?

the only real love song on this half of the album makes no mention of fate or any divine forces. it wasn’t meant to be. it’s not a supernatural invisible string or lightning in a bottle. she is just in love.

the album ends with the manuscript, which revisits an old story of a defining, formative heartbreak. as she sings ‘at last, she knew what the agony had been for’ while describing the legacy of her writing, she seems to revert to thinking about the purpose of trauma. the only exception is that, in this case, she is the one who found meaning in her pain by turning it into a manuscript. writing is her belief system now, and she proselytizes by telling her stories and thus giving up the manuscript.

ultimately, her belief in destiny has chewed her up and spat her out. she so desperately clung to her existing belief systems that she was fooled by a conman, which left her feeling cursed. religion is supposed to be with someone even in their darkest moments, but the album explains that taylor often felt abandoned. the only constant in her life was, well, herself. she’ll be okay, but her pen will be her saving grace.

#idk why I wrote this essay but it needed to be said #this could be taken further by actually unpacking each mention of religion on midnights and lover but i ain’t doing all that #the manuscript #cassandra #Cornelia street #false god #cruel summer #lover #the prophecy #the smallest man who ever lived #but daddy I love him #I can fix him #guilty as sin #ttpd #thank you Aimee #peter

[rreids]

LUNCH BREAK • A. HOTCHNER X READER

fluff; kisses; they just really love each other; reader gives hotch presents; ~500 words; gifs is just bc he's pretty he's v sweet here

an ask from @cerisereids for my sleepover event. prompts: i got you something; i know, your favorite, right?

Hotch had been busy lately. More than normal — personnel reviews, psych evals, yearly and quarterly needs all falling in the same two week window –, and he came home exhausted.

You knew you had permission to visit at work and that he’d never turn you away, but you never took him up on it, shy at the idea. Today, you’d decided to brave your fears.

With a gift bag, coffee, and lunch in hand, you braced yourself before the doors to the BAU. You tried not to shrink under the curious stare of his team, other agents, and analysts as they paused in their work to study you, but your steps became more hurried as you made your way to his office.

You couldn’t maneuver your arms to knock, so you just pushed it open. Aaron’s head rises, mouth opening — probably to chide whoever would come in without notice — before pausing, breaking into a grin as you awkwardly shut it behind you. 

“This is a surprise, sweetheart,” he can’t stop smiling, standing and giving you a short kiss before helping settle everything you held on his desk. “Special occasion?”

You shake your head. “Just thought you could use a little pick me up with everything.”

He smiles and kisses your cheek before drawing his chair to sit next to you, fondly studying every plane of your face. “What is all of it?

“Well, coffee — I know you all have a machine, but this is good coffee, not precinct coffee…” his lips quirk up into a smile. “Um, lunch. I got Chinese from this place by home, I hope it’s okay — the fried rice has pineapple! I thought it sounded good.”

He tilts his head and looks pointedly at the bag. “And that?”

Your face burns with heat. “I got you something.”

“Clearly,” he deadpans. “What is it?”

You beam at him. “Open it.”

He sighs but obliges, making a show of pulling out the tissue paper to hear you giggle in delight. His brow furrows as he places the items before he smiles — a new tie, from his favorite brand; a keychain you’d made with a photo with you, him, and Jack; and flowers, red and white roses and lilies. 

“You got me flowers?” His voice is impossibly soft and fond.

“Yeah.”

“They’re so pretty.”

“I know,” you smile. “Your favorite, right?”

He’d never really mentioned that, but when you first started dating you noticed he’d have flowers on his table or on a cabinet, and they were always lilies, roses, or a potted plant of some other variation. But the bouquets didn’t change.

“Yeah. My favorite.”

He leans over to kiss you as he sets the flowers down on his desk, unable to stop smiling. “Can you help me put the tie on?”

You nod and quickly undo the one he’s already in, brow furrowing and your lip tucking between your teeth as you carefully and delicately tie and smooth the fabric over his shirt. “Handsome.”

Aaron smiles. “Let’s eat. It’ll get cold.”

He places his hand on your thigh, a casual intimacy that stays between laughs and conversation for the whole meal.

please assume that the bau are being nosy as fuck and comment on the new tie after, thank you. i also like to think that even if it wasn't a clear these are my absolute favorite! in regards to the flowers and was more of a i like the look, they're his favorite now.

#my works #📚 sleepover #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner fluff

[obamerzslop]

! The Terrible Digital Circus AU !

Welcome to The Terrible Digital Circus AU where everything and everyone is edgy! Even when they don't want to be.

(Based off of the Underfell AU, Owned by Me and @pansering)

AU Info:

In this AU, The Amazing (now Terrible) Digital Circus was specifically made for teens and up audiences (TADC if Adult Swim had it), which means there is a lot of violence and swearing!

Along with that, it is more of a show that plays in real time for a plethora viewers, which means there is very much present higher-ups, like The Producers.

Most important part of the show is the adventures themselves, which wined up looking more like game-show activities at times, that are made to be super duper extremely dangerous and deadly! Do not worry, the contestants re-spawn, but the experience of dying over and over has certainly changed them.

Links :

The Terrible Digital Comic Series Chapter 1: [Link] (TBA)

Character Designs for other circus members: [Link] (TBA)

The Terrible Digital Fan-mail Blog: [Link]

Terrible Digital Poster Design: [Link] How the intro to the show would sound like: [Link]

Frequently Asked:

Q: Can I (ship characters, draw/write your characters, make ocs, ship ocs with your characters, make nsfw of your characters, make fanon designs for your au, anything else you might want to do)?

A: Yes. I do not mind anything. Make anything you want, just don't expect it to be canon. I'm going the Goosworx route, making no ships canon (even my ships) so the au can be enjoyed by everyone!

#the amazing digital circus #tdac #tadc #tadc art #tadc fanart #tadc au #tadc caine #tadc pomni #tadc jax #tadc ragatha #digital circus #tadc gangle #tadc zooble #tadc kinger #tadc bubble #the terrible digital circus au #ttdc au #original au #alternate universe #digital art #fucked up evil version of tadc

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

after the events of season 4, steve just wanting SO BADLY to be friends with eddie. just LOVING the idea of them getting closer and having eddie as a friend because hell yeah! a close male friendship with someone that is actually my age, and who i don’t have a weird history with involving bruised eyes and love triangles? count me IN! and eddie is FUN, he is actually hilarious! the way they share the same glances of understanding when dustin is being an absolute shit head, rambling on and on about some obscure topic, expecting everyone to always be on the exact same page as him. of course. and, although steve suspects that eddie actually probably is keeping up with everything dustin says, much better than he ever could, he knows that above it all eddie can appreciate the antics for what they are, and roll his eyes with steve at dustin, i concur, you dustin henderson, are a total butthead.

steve just about junps RIGHT IN to being friends with eddie. hey man, what’cha up to tonight? wanna watch a movie? get drunk, smoke a bit? hey eddie, how have you been, man? he starts calling eddie up on the phone regularly just to check in, shoot the shit, he loves it! he loves having this new friendship with eddie munson and he loves how much the other boy has surprised him with how much he actually enjoys being around him. he’s not a freak, really, well ok maybe he is a little bit, but only in the best ways. he’s kind, thoughtful, and is always looking out for the people he cares about, which is something steve can really respect in a dude. but he’s also so funny? steve never could’ve anticipated just how much eddie has managed to make him genuinely LAUGH over their short amount of time spent together. and he’s really, out there? with the way he presents himself, the way he takes up space with these big THEATRICAL movements, leaving no room for regret or shame or god forbid embarrassment. steve isn’t even sure munson is capable of feeling it at all.

eddie munson is a good dude, and steve could use a bit more of that kind of person around him. he loves all of his friends, the weird little bonded family he’s found himself apart of, and they are all good people, but it never hurts to have afew more added in here and there. it never hurts to know there are more good people out there to find.

so steve is all over eddie, it seems.

at least, from where eddie is standing. nobody else seems as phased as eddie does at this sudden change in steve’s demeanour, in his interest in what eddie munson spends his time doing these days. it seems like, to everyone else, to steve, it’s just a natural progression in their relationship, after being sort of role model figures to the same group of kids, both being the two single dudes, who fought the same monsters together last spring, it seems nobody questions too much that they’d start casually hanging around eachother more. especially since eddie has found himself to fit into his own special spot as one of the group now after it all, after he unwillingly became tangled in this whole upsidedown-superpowers-supernatural-monsters and demons debacle, and tangled quite dramatically at that, the rest of the group that’s been with this since the beginning seemed to find no trouble in taking him in and seeing him as “one of them” now.

so, steve asking eddie to smoke, to watch movies, to go for a drive with no real end destination, it’s not really something that earns them too many double takes. dustin makes a comment or two in the beginning, because steve since when did you like hanging out with eddie? you guys are like so opposite, you don’t like any of the same stuff he does? and steve barely gives a shrug and a dismissive yeah yeah whatever man in response, with a signature eye roll, and dustin had said it seemingly also not too seriously, poking fun at steve wherever he can, not really meaning anything by it, as he fidgets around and rambles in the backseat of steve’s car, eddie riding up front. after that, though, he’s dropped it. it’s never brought up again. part of eddie thinks, too, that dustin would actually be enjoying that his two older friends are becoming friends themselves.

robin seems to be the only other person to look a bit harder at their situation, lingering stares at their interactions, all squinted eyes and eyebrows raised, though from her all this seems to be almost always and only ever directed at steve. eddie’s not sure what to make of that. isn’t he the weird one? i mean, he’s the one that stands out, right? he’s the odd denominator that makes their friendship strange. why would steve harrington want to hang out with Him? HIM? but robin doesn’t spend her time studying eddie to try and search for what about him could possibly have piqued the interest of cherished steven harrington, no, shes always looking at steve. like she’s seeing him differently, almost. eddie doesn’t even think that steve notices it, either, because he doesn’t seem to be questioning or doubting anything odd or strange or out of the ordinary with their newfound time spent together. and maybe, maybe robin is seeing him differently. eddie knows he definitely has been. seeing him more, intensely. deeply. human. seeing the person that steve is, as just steve, not this idealised version of a boy that eddies starting to question ever really even existed at all, or if everyone around him just needed to believe that he did, and who was steve if not happy to comply to the wants of the people around him for who he should be?

eddie likes having steve as his friend, too. don’t get it twisted. he loves how unexpectedly expressive steve is about everything, even really small things. steve LOVES to raise his voice, rest a hand on his popped hip, scolding the kids for something stupid with no real heat or malice behind it. and steve is, like, kinda bitchy too. eddie knew he had the capacity to be a real asshole when he wanted to be, that’s all he knew steve for back in the day, when he was back in high school, hanging around tommy h and the basketball boys, the jocks. eddie would spend his days hearing only whispers and gossip in the hallways of the parties at king steve’s house and the fights king steve had started and won on the court or out in the fields, only ever getting as close as a shove into a locker with the guy at the time, but eddie knew how it could go. he knew all about what steve had done to jonathan, what he’d said to him, the words he’d used. eddie knew it all. he’d seen enough, and been through enough himself, to know how these guys acted in response to guys like him, like jonathan, people who were lower on the social food chain. so, eddie knew about steve’s “mean streak”, if you will, but this kind of snarky bitchiness was something new to him. harrington was almost, sassy, when he wanted to be. it was less so cruel and more just, just sass. if he’s being completely honest it kind of blew eddie away, at first. he thought steve was one of those dull headed jocks who thought with their fists more than their actual brains, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. steve’s insults were well thought out, they were FUNNY, he was smart with his words. and silly. oh my god steve harrington could be so fucking silly, real honest to god goofball when the moment called for it, when he felt comfortable enough. eddie had caught on multiple occasions steve mimicking lightsabers to play fight with dustin, or the stupid fucking shit he would do or say just to make robin laugh, singing along to a song playing on the radio with a funny voice.

it was all a little, intoxicating, to watch. eddie didn’t know what gave him the right to be in on this now, to get to see this side of steve and better yet to be at the other end of some of his best qualities. it was fun, all the time they spent together, but there was always something else tugging inside eddie everytime they spent close time together, too. something, he knew steve wasn’t aware of. something he knew steve wasn’t equipped to deal with. something he knew, was him. was him, making things something more than they should be, because, nobody seemed to be questioning that they could become friends, so why ruin that? why disrupt it?

- robin and steve

“Steve.”

“-but then like, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to watch it I just thought, hey, y’know, let’s try something different for a change, but then he- oh my god he honest to god TACKLED ME Robin — I mean, it was so fucking funny and it happened so quick — and all over a fucking Tom Cruise movie-“

“STEVE.” Robin lightly slammed a hand onto the counter. She had been standing behind it for no short of 20 minutes, watching Steve as he paced around, supposed to be stacking tapes onto shelves, but ended up spending the whole time going on and on, and ON, about how movie night went with Eddie last night. She thought she was bad…

Steve jumped, almost running into a shelf and knocking down his hard work, and seemed to snap out of whatever trance he had found himself in after starting to tell Robin a story about something funny Eddie had done last night.

“Shit, sorry. Sorry, what were you saying? Were you- were you saying something?”

To this, Robin just rolls her eyes and let’s out a laugh, “You, sir, are goddamn hopeless.”

“Sorry. How long was I talking for?” Steve wandered his way over to lean his arms onto the counter from the opposite side.

“Oh, I dunno Steve, just about half an HOUR?”

“That is an over exaggeration Robin, it’s only been like-“

“Honestly, man, i’m concerned for you. You are like next level OBSESSED with Eddie. Eddie Munson. You do realise this right??? You are obsessed with him, Steve.”

To this Steve sputters, lazily waving his hands back and forth.

“No, Robin, what the hell are you talking about? I am not OBSESSED. No need to be jealous, alright, Stevie-Boy here can have more than one friend. Your spot in my heart isn’t any less special now that it’s beginning to be shared by another.” He bats his eyelashes up at her, holding both hands over his chest as if to cradle his heart.

“Oh my GOD! You even SOUND LIKE HIM!”, she playfully slaps his shoulder. “Steve. You are obsessed.”

“I am not obsessed! He’s just a really great guy, alright-“

“Blah blah, yep whatever you say, lover boy.” Robin quips, plopping down onto the chair chair infront of their staff computer, turning herself to face it.

“Wha- what? Lover boy? What the hell Robin, that is not- that doesn’t even make any sense!”

She is just smiling at him now, enjoying seeing him spiral like this. Steve let’s out a sigh as he puts his hands on his hips, and shakes his head, looking at her right back.

He opens and closes his mouth afew times, like he’s really thinking about what he wants to say next. Or like he has no idea what to say next, and his brain is not moving fast enough to formulate the next sentence his mouth knows he wants to say. He wasn’t obsessed. That’s not- that’s like- no. No he was not, Robin was just playing around with him, she knew how to get on his nerves. Get him all wound up over little things just to see him react like this.

After a minute or two, Robin realises Steve was not going to reply anytime soon, so she turns fully back toward him. Saving him from his spiral.

“So, what are you’re plans for tonight Steve-O?”

He lets out a chuckle and walks around the counter till he’s behind it with Robin, leaning his back against it so he can stand across from her and face her.

“Well, not really sure. Parents aren’t home, no early shift tomorrow, might drink afew beers, listen to some music, —“

“See what Eddie’s doin?” Robin finishes for him, quirking her eyebrows up and down as she does it.

“Oh shut up!” Steve just laughs and softly throws a tape from the counter at her chest. “As a matter of fact, yeah I will see what he’s up to. Because we are friends now, Robin. Is that a problem? Actually I was also gonna ask you what you were up to after work, too, but you know what after this I’m having second thoughts, I mean, the way you’ve been treating me lately-“

“Oh my god, you are the worst. Yes, I’m free, of course I’ll hang out with you dingus. You and your tweedle dee.”

Steve laughs at this, then tilts his head.

“Wait, does that make me dumb? Tweedle dumb?! That’s how you see me?”

“Yeah it is actually, got a problem?”

“Oh wow, she’s feisty today. Can’t believe you think I’m dumb, Rob’s. When you come knockin’ tonight, do not expect a warm greeting at my front door.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take my chances.”

- later. steve’s house. to be continued?

#just been having steddie post season 4 thoughts #been missing the era of the fandom just sort of starting during that time between vol 1 and 2 #how every fic had their own little way of resolving the upside down/vecna problem just written into afew small paragraphs #really just getting to know these characters as a pairing #most importantly before seeing them as a couple #seeing them as friends #how they would genuinely interact and get along #what their dynamics would look like #steddie early days truly have my whole entire heart #coming onto tumblr the weeks following vol1 of s4 was magical #anywho yeah non vol2 compliant steddie for you #more so just #eddie didn’t die steddie for you #they become friends bc truly i actually believe that had he lived they would have #it just makes sense #stranger things #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things 4 #stranger things season 4 #robin buckley #dustin henderson #also lmk if i should keep adding to this…might abyways bc i’m enjoying this #steddie fic #steddie fic idea #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfiction

[thetypingpup]

I really want to be railed by nerdy!hwa right about now. Just imagining him grabbing my your ankles and holding you open as he pounds into you, eyes focused on your body while his pretty mouth smirks at how you moan and whine, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose slightly because of how into it he’s getting just so smart and cocky and ahhhhhhhhh

Oh so you hate me fr...

Fuck he would be so damn cocky about it too. Just imagine how effortlessly he'd switch from holding you up by your hips and lifting you off the bed to grasping your ankles while you're hips are still hovering above the table, various books and papers strewn about. He wouldn't let you have a moment’s reprieve. Even while you're panting and trembling and whining incoherently, he'd still be pounding into you, still suspending you in ecstasy with a relentless onslaught of pleasure.

And when you do manage to open your eyes you just see him smirking down at you, beyond satisfied with the sight of you coming apart for him. His long hair would be pulled back so you could take in every detail of his cocky expression, the intensity in his eyes magnified by his glasses. He'd change your position so many times, bending you in half when he wants you to gasp and whine, wrapping your legs around his waist when he wants you to beg, holding your ankles up when he wants you to scramble to grab onto him. He controls your reactions completely, all while the pace of his hips doesn't falter for a moment. He changes up the tempo when he wants to and not a moment before. Of course he's panting from the effort too, losing just a bit of his sanity every time he sheathes his cock in your tight pussy, finding himself getting more delirious with pleasure by the moment. But it's your reactions that truly drive him insane. The way you cry out, the way you babble, the way you beg, the way your clothes are bunched and skewed over your gorgeous body, the way your glasses are askew over your pretty face, the way you contort and tremble so beautifully in response to his every move, all of it just makes him wanna double down and fuck you harder, to make you forget about everyone else you've ever been with.

He wants to ruin you. He wants to ruin the picturesque image of perfect you present to the world, and turn you into a sight that only a perverse hedonist would enjoy, a perverse hedonist like him. He wants to fuck you so good it ruins what you have with anyone else, all so you keep coming back to him. He wants to be the only one who sees you like this, the only one who gets to fuck you like this, the only one who's name is moaned and cried out from your pretty lips. Fuck he wants to be the only one who gets to feel you, who gets to touch you, who gets to play with you, who gets to make you cum, and that possessive rush of lust makes him grab you by the hips, tug you to the very edge of the table, and fuck you even harder, pressing against your innermost point of pleasure as if to make a point.

And he does. He wants you to feel every flashing burst of pleasure that has white dancing behind your eyes. He wants you to feel that spot that no one else has been able to reach with such intensity you can't speak, that you can barely fucking breathe. He wants to fuck you speechless, breathless, senseless, to the point where the only thing you can think is

"Seonghwa! Seonghwa! Zeonghwa!"

It takes everything in him to maintain composure as you cum. Your head tilts back, your body arching up as your shoulders are precariously balanced on the table, curving into the most alluring depiction of euphoria. You clench around him so tight you almost push him out, but he doesn't let you go. With a rough groan he grabs your hips and shoves his cock all the way inside you, resisting your repellant pulsations and keeping himself fully sheathed inside you.

"Don't you dare push me out now." His voice is lowered to a commanding growl and you swear you lose all cognizance for a moment or two. He sounds so demanding and so desperate that you feel compelled to comply, even as you lose all control of yourself. The only thing you know in that moment is obedience and the intensity of your orgasm. The grip of his hands combined with the desperation in his tone just amplifies your ecstasy even more, and you're left screaming and shaking and haphazardly grabbing onto him for purchase.

The sight of you coming undone like this, the delicious rippling of your core around his cock as you ride the waves of bliss, all because of him, is almost enough to have him cumming on the spot. And he would, if he wasn't determined to make you cum again.

#ateez smut #ateez seonghwa smut #ateez x you #ateez x reader #seonghwa x you #seonghwa x reader #lost myself a bit writing this 😳

[xfgpng]

𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟

— : [ nsfw ] smut, unprotected sex, praise kink, grinding, riding, creampie pie

— wc : 1,2k

commissioned! ✅

the lights are off. the only thing lighting your way is the dimly lit candles and the moon shining through the sheer curtains of your bedroom. the pretty lace almost matches the red lace dress you’re wearing.

it had been a joke when you saw it. you didn’t even think he remembered you talking about it until you saw the box laying in the middle of the bed with a note attached to it.

a gift, more for me than you - law

now, you can hardly breathe at the sight of him laying sprawled out in nothing but that sinful tight pants. the buttons are undone and the pants are unzipped but it still hides his very interested friend.

the best part? his hands are above his head, tied to the bed frame and it makes a pretty picture. you almost want to tease him but he looks so good and he did this all for you even when you both knew the man loved to take charge.

“hi baby” he smirks, licking his lips as he looks you up and down. he definitely likes his present and you almost snort at the way his breathing changes. he wants you just as much as you want him, if not more.

he could easily break through the restraints. it’s the excitement of it all and it sends a rather pleasant feeling up your spine.

“hi” you grin, slowly making your way over to him. you purposely sway your hips just to tease him and he groans appreciatively.

oh how good it felt to be wanted by trafalgar law.

he never takes his eyes off you even when you climb onto the bed and then finally, when you straddle him. he can feel how soaked you are through your panties and his pants and he can’t help but buck up into you.

you gasp, hands finding purchase on his abs and you pinch his nipple in retaliation. he gasps and bucks his hips again.

“easy” you frown, “you said you’d let me take the lead”

“and i am” he says, “trust me, i want to fuck you already but i’m working on my patience”

“good boy” you laugh and he raises a brow at you.

“watch yourself” he warns but it does nothing to scare you. you’ve always loved the way he could take charge, and you often let him.

you know he’s really trying his best to behave. he’s always had a thing for your ass and the way it jiggles when he slaps it. he wants nothing more than to grab and squeeze but he’s forced it lie there and take what you’re willing to give.


even if you decided this cute little grinding session was all you wanted until he came in his pants like a teenager. he’d take it.

“so big” you whisper, grinding down harder. you can feel the shape against your lips and it’s not nearly enough to satisfy either of you but you enjoyed being able to tease him back every now and then.

“shit” he grunts, clenching his jaw. you look up at his hands to see him also clenched into fists and you bite your lip to stop the laugh. you didn’t want to push him too much.

“do something” he gasps, eyes squeezing shut when you move faster, pressing down firmer. he can feel the way your body quivers and he’s never been above begging when it came to you, “baby please, i need you”

and you can’t help but give in, just a little. you liked him like this too. all needy and desperate, exactly how he makes you feel all the time.

you slip your panties to the side and pull him out his underwear. he moans, head tilting back and you lean down to kiss and suck on his neck as you push the tip in just a little.

you can tell he’s frustrated by the way he’s trying to move his hips but you hold onto him. you squeeze the base as you rub your wet folds onto his cock. he can’t cum like this but it’s fun to piss him off. you can help yourself.

“fuck.. just..” he bites his tongue and pulls on the tie around his wrists. he can break free if he really wanted to but he’s trying.

this was your moment after all.

“aw” you pout, mocking him, “what’s the matter baby?”

“y/n.. fuck” he takes a deep breath, “i’m warning you, stop messing with me”

“oh?” you tilt your head sideways, still rocking your hips. it feels so good to stimulate your clip this way but you’re close to breaking. “i thought you wanted this?”

“y/n!”

before he can say anything else, you slam your hips down. screaming out when you feel just how deep he is like this and you can’t help but squeeze around him.

he nearly cums from that and he’d be embarrassed about it if he wasn’t so focused on how good it felt inside you. always so soft and warm.

“holy fuck” you moan, keeping still just a moment. you were in over your head but you’d never admit that.

and maybe you wanted to shut him up for once but you were a little too eager but god did it feel so good.

“come on baby” he encourages, back to being smug once he’s calmed down. he can tell you’re more effected now than he is and he’s enjoying it, “be good and ride me”

you want to slap the grin off his face but you’re more focused on fucking yourself on him. it feels good to be so full and with him praising you, it only boosts your ego.

“fuck you’re so sexy like this” he bites his lip, “that’s it, use me”

you cry out when he starts moving his hips in time with your bouncing. you want him to hold you so you lean down and kiss him.

“take me” you whisper and he’s all too pleased by that. he breaks free easily, a little too easy but you don’t have time to be mad when he’s slapping your ass and fucking up into you harder and faster.

your eyes squeeze shut and you spasm around him. you’d never get used to the size or being this full but you wanted it to hurt the next day.

you liked feeling it and he liked knowing he was the cause.

“my sweet thing” he whispers right into your ear, “always so perfect and so good for me”

“gonna be good and cum?” he asks, “make a mess for me okay?”

and you do, biting down onto his shoulder and he grunts but welcomes to pain. he liked being marked up by you.

it’s so messy when he cums inside you, spilling out onto his lap and down onto the sheets. you’d have to clean up in the morning but you were too tired to even move.

“good?” he asks and you nod, feeling sleepy.

“it was good for me too” he kisses the side of your head, “let’s get you cleaned up and into bed”

you smile dreamily at him as he moves you to the side and he gets off the bed. he always takes care of you, making sure you’re comfortable before bed even when you’re protesting about being tired.

#[ 🪼 ] xfg writes #trafalgar law #one piece smut #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law x you #one piece trafalgar law #trafalgar law smut #one piece law smut #one piece law #one piece law x you #one piece law x reader #one piece law x y/n

[youandiwerealive]

Heaven is bulletproof [rd]

Author’s note: dad!Rúben makes me feel SICK, I need to have his babies 😩 thank you to the anon who requested this, I hope you enjoy it! Mwah mwah

(Also I woke up a bit ago and proofread this in a rush, so there might be typos)

Wc: 3123 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

Rúben has been tired. Even more than just “tired”, he has been exhausted, lately. He was used to having his days filled with practice and recovery sessions, but he was not used to doing all that and having to come home to a very pregnant wife, who could barely walk through the house sometimes - the swollen feet and the back pain being unbearable most of the days. Being eight months pregnant was really taking a tool on you.

On top of all that, he still had to deal with the hormones and the mood swings. God, Rúben had already lost count to the crazy amount of times that he came home to a crying wife. He would get so worried, asking you what happened while seeing you crazily sob about something that must have really upset you.

“We didn’t ate this banana yesterday and now it’s rotten” - you would innocently cry your eyes out, feeling so emotional, irrationally feeling sorry for the poor banana that was going to waste.

Rúben would sigh at your reactions - not because he was done with them, but mainly because of how exhausted he feels. It’s clearly not your fault, he knows it. He’s so grateful that your body is going through so much to prepare your baby to this crazy world. But he just wishes that things could be a little easier now.

His routine has been mental. He can’t barely sleep an entire night anymore, due to you constantly waking up and moving around in bed, not being able to find a position to sleep in without feeling pain. He wakes up feeling tired already, makes you breakfast, gets ready to go to the training center, comes back, does all the domestic chores and everything you need. It’s just too much. He’s been managing to deal with it, but he can’t deny that this chaotic routine really is destroying him - both physical and mentally.

If the man can’t have any rest, how can he play at the same level that he used to? Right, he can’t.

His performance has been getting worse, he couldn’t focus on the game, his tackles got sloppier, he couldn’t do anything straight on the pitch. He knew it, Pep knew it, you knew it. Pep would now put him in the bench in most of the games, and just that fact alone makes Rúben fully frustrated.

He’s been trying to keep it cool, to stay calm and collected, but his mind has been driving him crazy, he would always feel anxious lately and his bad mood was present at all times.

When he was around you, he tried his best not to disturb your peace, but he feels like he needs to vent - to talk to somebody about the huge turn that his reality took in just a couple of weeks. He reaches to his team mate and also one of his best friends, Bernardo - him being a father as well. He could try and talk to you, but you probably would just feel guilty about it and cry in response.

He spoke to Bernardo about how tiring this last month has been to him, how he wished he could just stop the world for a second so he could have a break - but he can’t. Everything is his responsibility now, and on top of that, he’s been getting a lot of hate lately from the fans, due to his lack of performance. People claim that he’s been showing “no professionalism” lately, and that makes him sick.

Bernardo advised your husband to talk to you about how he felt more often. You are tired and scared, but Rúben is too.

You started noticing changes in his behaviour - he doesn’t seemed so happy about this baby anymore. He would still help you with everything you needed, but now he had an attitude and a temper that would silently make you cry when he wasn’t home.

So, you decided to talk to him about it. He arrived home from his game, you assumed that he would come back in a good mood, since they won. Rúben played the second half, making an okay performance - definitely not the worst you’ve been of him this season.

Still, he came home with his face scrunched up in a worried expression - the only one that paints his face regularly now. He gets near you on the couch, kisses your head and gently touches your belly. It’s been like this for the last weeks. He doesn’t talk much, doesn’t give you as much affection as he would before. He leaves you in the living room, and goes to the kitchen - probably to start making dinner for you two.

You try your best to get up from your seat, even with the crazy amount of pain that you’ve been feeling lately, and follow him to the kitchen.

“I think we need to talk” - you blurted out to him. He looks up at you with his eyebrows lifted up, signalling you to continue speaking.

You take a deep breath and try to calm your anxiety and shaky hands, feeling like you could cry just by the thoughts that are going through your brain now - fuck you hormones.

“Uhm, I’ve been noticing that you’ve been a bit different with me and…” - you try to speak but your voice is already trembling.

“… and I just want you to be honest. If you don’t want me anymore, I can leave” - you try your best for your words to sound clear.

“What?” - Rúben asks with his face totally scrunched up in confusion.

“Leaving? What are you taking about?” - he sounds completely surprised now.

“Well, you’ve been acting weird, doing things with an attitude. You’re not as loving as you used to be and it changed very quickly. I don’t know what happened but I’m just begging you to be honest with me” - you’re fully crying now, hating yourself for being so emotional, but you really can’t stop this feeling in your chest that tells you that you might lose the love of your life at anytime now.

His heart breaks at the sight in front of him. Despite all the times when he tried so hard to not annoy you with his problems, he ended up doing worse: made you feel like he doesn’t love you anymore, doesn’t want you anymore. He reaches out to hug you tightly, engulfing you in his arms - the only place you can call ‘home’.

“I’m so sorry, babe” - he says, his voice with a hint of pain and shaking a bit too, now. He kisses your head and caresses your hair as you try to calm yourself down.

“What’s going on? Please, just tell me” - you beg him, as you clean the tears from your face.

He sighs, as he directs you sit on the sofa again, wanting you to be comfortable.

“I have just been really tired lately” - he admits as you two sit down.

“Is that what’s causing your attitude? Is it because you haven’t been getting much sleep? Is it because I move too much-“ - he tries to stop your rambling.

“Amor, I think it’s the fact that everything is happening at the same time. It’s you, the baby, the training, the actual games, the house chores, the lack of sleep, the constant hate comments on social media now… it’s like all eyes are on me, now. I have a thousand things to do by the hour, it’s just getting too much” - he explains softly, allowing some tears to run down his face now, something that rarely happens.

Just like he thought, you are feeling guilty about it, he can see it in your face. He caresses your back softly, trying to get rid of the pain there and the guilt that’s now pooling in your head.

“Why didn’t you talked to me before? Before things got this out of hand” - you asked.

“I didn’t wanted to disturb you. You are almost 9 months pregnant now, preparing yourself to bring our baby into this world. I didn’t wanted to upset you by talking about how tired I am, when I know for sure that you’re feeling a thousand times worse than me” - he continues caressing your body, lovingly looking you in the eyes.

“Still, Rúben. You should’ve come to me. I know I can’t help that much right now, but we would’ve found a solution. Like the house chores thing, we could hire someone to come here and do all the cleaning for us. That would help a bit already. And you really need to rest, so I can sleep on the guest room for a night or two, I don’t mind. That way you might actually have a full night of sleep” - your mind rushes to try and solve all the problems he listed earlier.

“Y/N, you don’t have to do that. I don’t want you to move to another room, there’s no need for you to sleep alone. What if you need something?” - his “always worried and protective” veneer now showing.

“If I need something, I scream until you wake up and hear me. If I don’t need anything, at least you sleep the entire night, without having to constantly wake up because of me always moving around” - you give him a reassuring smile, while holding his hand in yours now.

“Thank you. You’re right, I should’ve talked to you earlier, but I guess I was embarrassed. Didn’t wanted you to think that I was complaining about being more tired than you - the actual pregnant one, and I ended up fucking it up more. Did you really thought I didn’t wanted you and or baby anymore?” - he almost flinches at the words that came out of his mouth.

“Well, I didn’t knew what to think. Everything was okay and in this last month and a half I believe, everything got so different. I thought you didn’t liked the idea of us having a baby anymore” - you confessed with a sad tone.

“Babe, there’s nothing that I want more in this life than to have our baby with us. I want to hold him, while kissing you and tell you both how much I love you. You are my life, my family, Y/N. And if it’s not the two of us, it doesn’t make sense” - he gives you a loving kiss on the lips.

“We are each other’s home, remember? We are the other’s safe place. Don’t be afraid to open up for me, babe. I’m always by your side” - you tell him before you two kiss again.

Rúben complied to the solutions you’ve found. A nice and gentle lady comes by everyday to clean and organise the house, and Rúben has been spending some nights on the guest room - earning his well deserved rest. His mood started to get better, him feeling a little lighter. His performance on the pitch got better as well, and the hateful comments subside.

One day, when he was doing a recovery session after a game, his phone started ringing and he immediately picked up as he saw it was you calling.

“Hey babe, is everything alright?” - he asked.

“Rúben, you have to come home right now” - you manage to say, already in pain.

“Why, what happened?” - his voice already sounding worried.

“My waters just broke” - that’s all he needs to hear before he’s running around, gathering his belongings and explaining to the club staff that he needs to leave, that he’s going to be a father.

Rúben rushed to get home, and he saw you curled up in a lot of pain, accompanied by the cleaning lady who didn’t left your side until Rúben arrived.

He thanked the lady for helping you and he gets you in the car as he crazily drives to the hospital.

Once you’re there, everything is happening so fast, it’s like your minds can’t keep track of what’s going on. And it’s when you have to start pushing, that your mind gets tied in a knot, and you can’t react. You do a few light pushes, but the pain is unbearable, and you start doubting your ability to get your baby out.

“This is too much, I can’t. It hurts too much” - you say as you start crying, feeling weak and frustrated.

Rúben is right by your side and he holds your hand tightly.

“Amor, please look at me. You can do this, I’m right here with you, we’re in this together, remember? We’re bulletproof together baby, you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met, you got this babe” - he motivates you until you start pushing again.

The pain is the only thing you can think about right now, and everything sounds muffled to you. Your ears catch Rúben’s praises as you push harder and harder, just wanting to hold your baby now.

“That’s it amor, you got this”, “you’re doing great love, we’re almost there”, “you’re so strong amor, our baby is almost here with us, just push a little more”

When it’s over, and you finally hear your baby crying, you burst into a crying mess too. Rúben is speechless at what just happened, kissing your head non-stop and looking at your baby while the nurses get her cleaned up.

It’s a girl. Matilde. Means “mighty in battle”, and she really made you two fight everything and everyone to keep sane in the last couple of months. She is the reason of everything now, you’re living a full circle moment when it all makes sense.

“You’re so strong, baby, I am so proud of you” - Rúben whispers in your ear, himself getting emotional now too.

You hold your baby for the first time and you two immediately start crying at the sight of her. So tiny, so adorable, so harmless and unaware of all the reality surrounding her. She doesn’t know how loved she is yet, she doesn’t know that she came to unite her mom and dad even more - if that was even possible.

After a while, you feel yourself drifting off to sleep, your body aching and tired from the labour. Rúben relaxes you, telling you to sleep without a care in the world, while he looks out for your daughter.

Rúben takes his shirt off, wanting to feel the skin to skin contact with his baby. He holds her gently and incredibly near his chest. He doesn’t want to put her in her crib, feeling completely drunk off her daughter, her smell, her touch, the new feeling that he now has in his chest. He’s holding his entire world in his arms right now, nothing matters anymore.

He gives her little kisses on her forehead and admires her features. The little hair that she has on her head, her little pointy nose just like her father’s and her big brown eyes. The baby looks attentively at Rúben as well, like she’s studying him too.

“Hey amor, it’s your dad” - he smiles at her, introducing himself.

“You’re so beautiful, even more than I could have ever dreamed” - he gently caresses her cheek with his index finger, making the baby smile.

Rúben can’t stop the tears from flowing slowly down his face. He’s in awe with his baby, looking so precious and perfect in his embrace.

“Mom and dad love you so much already, you have no idea” - he starts explaining to the newborn. “These last two months where a bit hard on us, you gave mommy a lot of work and pain, but it’s all worth it now” - he kisses her one more time, unable to stop himself.

“You were so desired, amor. We dreamed about having you for so many times. When your mommy was asleep, I would always hold myself as close as I could to her belly, where you were, so I could feel you moving next to me. I would always imagine how you would look, how would your personality be like. I would cry myself to sleep sometimes, anxious to meet you, doubting if I was going to be a good father to you.

And I promise you now, Matilde, I am going to give you this world and more. But listen, I am not going to spoil you with the newest iPhone, because I want you to value the greatest things in life. I am going to take you on adventures, I am going to show you new countries, other cultures, different realities. I’m teaching you everything I know about respect, loyalty, discipline and kindness. I’m going to play princesses with you, take you to football games of course, teach you how to play the guitar - like I learned a few years ago when we were on lockdown because of this boring virus. Anyway, that’s a story for later.

I promise I’ll always be your best friend, meu amor. I am going to teach you portuguese so we can gossip without your mommy to understand a word” - he laughs quietly at how silly he sounds.

“And you can talk to me about everything. And I mean everything, Matilde. You can talk to me about your friends, your insecurities, your fears, your mistakes. I don’t want you to be like those kids nowadays, that keep things hidden from their parents. I am here to help you and protect you, baby, it’s my life mission now. You can even talk to me about boys - but you better know that you’re only allowed to date when you’re 40 years old” - he smiles at the baby who looks at him like she’s understanding every single word he’s telling her.

“You’re my world, meu amor. I love you more than life, and I’ll never stop proving it to you” - he kisses her once again as she now grips his finger with her entire hand, looking incredibly small next to Rúben’s.

His world stopped. He doesn’t hear any sound except her baby’s, he doesn’t see anyone else beside her and her mom. He finally has his family reunited like he dreamed for so many times. And now, he doesn’t care about sleeping, he doesn’t care about mean comments. He doesn’t care about anything else.

What truly matters is being strongly held in his arms now, and that strong feeling in his chest will never fade away. Nothing can tear you down when you three are together, and Rúben is just now realising that heaven truly is bulletproof.

#ruben dias #ruben dias x you #ruben dias oneshot #dad!ruben #ruben dias fanfiction #ruben dias fic #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #thoughts about football players #football imagines #football fanfic

[jgracie]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ WHERE’S THE TROPHY? HE JUST COMES RUNNING OVER TO ME!

↳ part one!

(american)footballer!jason grace x fem!reader

masterlist | rules

on the radio . . . the alchemy (taylor swift)

an this is dedicated to everyone who said i should write a part 2 thank u for supporting my agenda <3 AND thank you to all the people who helped me understand hs football culture i hope this was a realistic depiction 😓 !!

football never failed to make you feel anxious. before you started dating jason, you didn't really care for it, only showing up for games because you liked the whole 'team spirit' thing and because it was a good excuse to hang out with your friends. now, however, things have changed

since it was jason's whole life, you took it upon yourself to learn all about the rules of the game and the roles of the different players (with a special interest in jason's role for no reason in particular). now, whenever you showed up to a game, you'd actually be watching your school's every move, ignoring your friends' banter and focusing on jason and jason alone

'this is just a friendly match' is the mantra you kept repeating in your head as you watched. you knew that deep down, having a match sprung up on him like this bothered jason, even though it wouldn't count for anything. you also knew that this would affect his skill regarding the game. at this point, you've memorised jason's every move by heart, and you could tell that today just wasn't his day

the rest of the team looked pretty hopeless too. with their captain in this condition, how could they stay positive? they relied on jason to lift their spirits and up their motivation. little did they (and you) know, jason relied on you to lift him up

ever since you started actually paying attention to games, cheering him and only him on, wearing his jersey with his surname plastered on your back, his prowess went from amazing to formidable. there were times when juggling schoolwork, social life and being the captain of the football team really got to him, and he almost considered shutting himself off from the world. but then he'd remember your sugary smile and kind words and addictive lips and he'd feel rejuvenated. just the thought of you alone was like a lifeline to him

this was one of those times. he turned to look at you, sitting all pretty on the bleachers. despite being in the midst of a sea of purple, jason could pinpoint you within a millisecond. he gave you a small grin, and you waved at him as you sported a smile of your own

"go jason!" you yelled, your voice making jason feel like he ate some of the ambrosia greek demigods would in those myths you learnt about in class. all of a sudden, he was full of energy and quickly passed that on to his teammates, hyping them all up for the rest of the game. they could still win this

and they did. others believed it was a miracle, but jason knew what it was. it was you. if you weren't there, they probably would've suffered a scathingly embarrassing loss against CHB high, who'd been shading them for their 'too rigid' style of playing. begrudgingly, their headmaster brought out the trophy, about to present it to jason when he realised the boy had disappeared

jason didn't care about the trophy. instead of collecting it, taking a few pictures and making a speech, he ran over to you - nearly jumping over the barrier between the bleachers and the pitch to give you a very heated kiss. how could he care about the trophy when his real prize had been here all along?

(the picture of the two of you kissing had been passed around school and you'd gotten teased relentlessly afterwards, but you didn't care. you truly were in your own world - who were you to fight the alchemy?)

#jason grace x reader #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #jason grace #jason grace x fem reader #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #jason grace fanfic #pjo fanfic #jason grace drabble #jason grace blurb #cynwrites

[leidensygdom]

I gotta say, one of the wildest radical transphobes' talking "points" is probably bathroom discourse. I can't even put to words how utterly detached from reality it is. It's terminally online stuff.

So, bathrooms. I don't know if somehow other people's realities are somehow vastly different from mine, but I feel like the extreme clear divide between "men's" and "women's" bathrooms is just not real. Where I live, stalls are often gendered, but how much they get used in that way is far less consistent.

For example: If the place had only the space to make one bathroom accessible, it's gonna be the women's bathroom. Always. It doesn't mean only disabled women have access to bathrooms- It means that the women's bathroom is also going to be used by disabled people. And this is common. Really common. Maybe it's because the women's bathroom tends to need more space- For pad dispensers and trash cans, for baby-changing stations (yes, I hate that these are only on the women's bathroom usually), and so on. Now- You see a guy enter the women's bathroom. Are you gonna micro-analize if the guy looks disabled enough to use it, or are you going to wash your hands and go on with your life?

Again, baby-changing stations are almost always located on the women's bathroom. It sucks- It should be in all bathrooms. But it's how it is. You see a cis guy enter with a kid. Or maybe not even with a kid- Just enters, wanders around, finds the baby-changing station, gets a diaper from the dispenser and leaves. Are you gonna throw a fit or just let this guy handle his kid?

Bathrooms get cleaned on the regular. A lot of times, you may wanna go there, and get told it's being cleaned, and just get asked to use the other gender's bathroom. Cleaning can take hours. If the men's bathroom is being cleaned and everyone is now using the women's, are you going to deem the bathroom to be the world's unsafest place or are you just go take a pee and leave?

Fucking hell, sometimes the stall you want to go to is incredibly dirty. It happens. No need to get on details. Just the kind of stuff that makes you want to not use it. Or maybe it's clogged, or maybe it's not working. Maybe there's a note saying "Broken, do not enter". Do you cry about it or just go find another stall- Which may be on the other fucking gender's bathroom?

Most times I'll use whatever bathroom is available. One is busy? Ok, let me get to the other one. I'm AFAB and while I don't present femininely, I still look like a woman to most people. Have I ever been in danger because I cleaned my hands besides someone with a dick? No. Grow the fuck up. This isn't even rare. People will switch bathrooms for speed. People will switch bathrooms because one of them is out of paper. Because one of them is out of soap.

The mall in my current city recently installed "Family" bathrooms. They're not being marketed as unisex, or inclusive, or anything. Just "family" bathrooms. For everyone. They're great. It's the bathroom everyone will use- Men, women, anything in between and outside of that, kids, disabled people, etc. There's a bunch of stalls adapted to different needs. There's accessible stalls. There's pad and diaper dispensers. There's stalls that have a big toilet and a little toilet so parents can go with their kids. There's tall sinks and short sinks- So disabled people and kids can reach.

And, to nobody's surprise, there's no reports whatsoever of any sort of assault in them.

I'm just. I don't know. I'm sorry you can't detach the existence of a dick near you from immediate assault. I don't know why that changes in the context of a bathroom- I've never (in my long life of using whatever bathroom) been in danger for that. And I'm talking as someone who has had some unsavory experiences in other situations. Grow the fuck up and maybe stop basing your views on imaginary scenarios y'all need to come up with to justify your hatred of a minority. Maybe if y'all got off your keyboards and went outside for once, you'd realize bathrooms work much differently from whatever weird ideal you have formed about them.

#trans issues #transgender #lgbtq #lgbtia #queer #long post

[cheriladycl01]

I cant do this anymore - George Russell x Wolff! Reader Part 7

Plot: You are the daughter of Toto Wolff team principle of Mercedes-AMG Petronas, you've worked your whole life to become an engineer. However, your dad has other ideas for you and doesn't want you to become a race engineer. You start to confide more in the Red Bull Racing Team Principle to help you get an engineering job, and see him as your present father figure.

Credit to russellius for the GIF

After Vegas, you came home just like you promised your dad. There were many tears, mainly from Suzie as she pulled you into a hug. You had a huge family dinner before you went into your bedroom.

It had changed throughout the years.

When you were a baby, your dad told you it was white walls with little animal prints all around. When you were a toddler you were obsessed with green so he made your room look like a jungle. As you got more girlie, you wanted it pink, then that was too girlie and you were really into motorsports and you had posters of drivers all over your room.

When you became an adult, it started to look more like a spare bedroom in the house. Not that it wasn't decorated with all your things but the big adult double bed was very different from your cabin bed you donned twelve years ago. And the once colour filled walls were now a subtle pale green. Vines hung all over your room in any nook and cranny your could get them into. Lots of fake plants, and real plants of course.

But this always felt like home to you. Especially when you'd come back from your uni accommodation.

The next day, there were mumbling voices down from the kitchen.

You'd slept in, not having any construct of time by being back in your own bed and not having alarms set for ridiculous times around the races.

"Dad, Mum?" you ask him and Suzie, looking around until you fully walked into the kitchen spotting George at the breakfast table making you stop in your steps.

Toto was your dad, and even though Suz was only your step-mum she was all you had so walking around in a large Mercedes team top and your underwear was normal around them... but not normal around George Russell sat down his fork half in his mouth as he looks over at you.

You flush bright red in realisation before running back off to your bedroom. You walk straight into the ensuite, looking at the state of your hair and face.

Your hair was everywhere, knotted and sticking up in places it shouldn't. You had a red line running down you face from where you'd fallen asleep on your phone cable.

"Oh my god!" you mutter to yourself wondering why you hadn't grabbed a dressing gown or something before you left your room.

You then run around you room, in and out of your ensuite and back into you bedroom, fixing your appearance.

You walk out, fresh faced and in a more appropriate outfit. Smiling at everyone who had clearly not got back to their breakfast since your first interruption.

"Hello..." you say quietly sitting down at the table with your family.

"Hey darling!" Suzie smiles at you, handing you over a glass of orange juice that you take and sip from.

"Y/N, would you take a walk with me?" George asks looking over you. And you look up from the toast Toto had just placed on your plate.

"Erm..." you say not sure. You wanted to talk to him but you were also really hungry and wanted food.

"After breakfast of course!" he says looking down, starting to eat his own eggs once again.

"Yeah, I'd like that!" you smile.

For the rest of breakfast you all talked about Abu Dhabi and your predictions. Max had already won but that didn't mean it couldn't make for an interesting race.

After breakfast you waited at the back door, pulling your wellies on ready to take a long walk through the fields at the back of your family home.

George cleared his throat to let you know he was there and you turned to look at him. A small smile came over you face.

"George" you say and he smiles. He comes up to you wrapping an arm around you shoulder before he leads you out the back door into the garden.

You guys exit through the back gate going onto the muddy tracks behind the house.

For a while, you both basked in each others silence just looking at the nature around you, smelling the morning air and listening to the birds among the trees.

"I- don't really know where to start" he says suddenly making you nod.

"I know, neither do I..." you admit.

"I just want you to know that I'm sorry and ... I never meant to hurt you. I was just so angry... at everything" he sighs and shakes his head.

"I know, I think part of me always knew..."

"Mmmmm" he sighs again, before looking over at you.

"I just want to go back to the way things were" you admit, looking up at him.

"I don't" he lets out the breath he'd been holding.

"W-what?" you ask looking up at him, and it felt like all of a sudden you were back at square one with him.

"I want to be more than what we were. You were my friend for so long and I danced around the idea of pursuing anything with you and I don't want to wait any longer!" he says, holding your cheek looking down at you. You were frozen in shock, not expecting this to be the way your walk went.

"George what are you saying?" you ask in a small voice.

"Can I kiss you, please!" he practically begs you, and all you can do is nod.

"Yes" you smile, before grabbing both sides of his face and leaning up to pull him down into a kiss.

You both kissed, lips mashing together and his hands stayed in your hair, holding you close as if he was worried he was going to loose you again.

George regretted everything that had happened and honesty ... he didn't want this moment to end.

"What does this mean for us George?" you ask looking up at him once you both stop.

"I want you to be mine, ever since I joined Mercedes I've liked you. Please just give me one chance!" he asks.

"I dunno George, you basically called me a gold digger..." you say, trying to fake upset but the small smile that comes onto you mouth gives you right away.

"Oh shush, you know I feel bad about that already!" he groans slightly pushing you a little. The bit you were on was a small incline in the muddy field, your wellies having no grip made a small scream com e out your mouth as you start to fall.

You hand reaches out for George only to have him join you in falling down into the muddy puddle.

"Y/N?" George says looking over you making sure you are all okay.

You burst out laughing seeing the sludge of mud on his face, making you giggle.

Your dad and Suzie, watched from the kitchen seeing the young adults laughing with one another, experiencing young love.

"Do you ever think of how we would be if we met at that age?" Suzie asks wrapping her arms around her husbands large frame.

"No, because I have you now, and that's all i care about" he grins at her as he watches his daughter and George slowly regain that trust they once had and he couldn't help but let a tear fall at the promise of him slowly loosing his daughter to a man...

As he knew George would be one to stick around.

And ... he was okay with that.

A/N: OMG! I think this might be the end!!!

taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #george russel imagine #george russell x reader #george russell imagine #gr63 imagine #gr63 x reader #gr63 #gr63 fic #george russell fluff #George russell fic #George russell fanfic #George russell series

[aezuria]

Hi! could you do a daughter of hadez! reader x leo valdez headcannons or one shot? Like the reader is really gloomy and Leo is the only one that gets her to smile (like nico and will oops)

*ੈ✎ turn that frown upside down!

content: leo valdez x daughter of hades! reader

╰┈▸ warnings: canon divergent probably, a few cuss words

librarian's annotations: so i was stuck between making that daughter of hades fic with jason angsty or this one, guess which one i did ! (he can never be not tragic im sorry) anyways SO SOOOO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I HOPE U LIKE IT

you were not the most joyous person; at least that's what it looked like to other people.

like, did anyone ever see you smile?

(probably nico, but that's about it)

well, leo valdez took that as a challenge

a pretty girl like you with a perpetual frown on her face? he'd turn that frown upside down!

(or so he hoped)

you picked at your food, sitting alone at the hades table once again; nico sneaking off to who knows where doing gods know what

leo took his chance and approached you, not caring about the assigned seating rule

i mean, he couldn't just let you sit there all alone!

"hey there," leo slid onto the bench in front of you, his elbow on the desk as he tried to act all suave.

who is this bumbling fool? you looked up from your food, an ever present glare in your eyes.

yikes, leo thought, laughing awkwardly. "you looked a little lonely, so i wanted to keep you company. is that alright?"

normally (as normal for an abnormal situation like this) you'd tell them to go fuck right off. but maybe you were in a miss-your-brother mood, or maybe you were just hungry and not thinking straight.

regardless, you gave him a shrug and took a bite out of your food. that wasn't a complete no.

scandalous gasps echoed through the pavilion. leo had already gotten their attention when he broke the rule, but you letting him stay? now that was absolutely unbelievable!

you turned your sharp gaze around the hall, wondering what the sudden rise in chatter was about. (they all took it as a sign to shut up because no one wanted to see the daughter of death mad)

your unbothered ass kept on eating because it was hitting especially hard today like-

"so..." leo trailed off, fingers tapping against the table as he tried to come up with something quickly. "who's your godly parent? mine's hephaestus, i found that out like, yesterday."

"hades," you answered shortly. you thought it would be obvious with your whole vibe, but maybe to a newcomer it wasn't. and you were a bit glad it wasn't, because no one bothered to talk to you once they found out.

"oh! yeah that should've been obvious, huh?" leo laughed sheepishly.

you nodded, the mostly one-sided conversation extending for a painstakingly long time.

"y/n!" leo waved eagerly once he caught sight of you leaving your cabin.

you startled, about to look over your shoulder to see who he was waving at as if he didn't just yell out your name. you put up your hand in a weak attempt at saying hello. you were about to go and start walking again when he ran towards you calling, "wait!"

you stopped short and turned back around to see him sprinting towards you. (guess all that running away was good for something)

he put his hands on his knees dramatically and gasped for breath. (maybe not?) leo straightened up, a bright grin on his face. "where are ya going? can i come with?"

you were off to go brood in the woods or something; not much of a two-person job. but for some reason, you couldn’t say no to his cheerful smile.

”sure.” you turned and went to walking again.

he scampered after you excitedly. “great! so what are we doing? do you wanna see this cool bunker i found? look at this bracelet i made! do you want it? i can make another so we match!”

you were a little overwhelmed with the amount of topic changes that happened in a matter of seconds. it was like a conversation with him made up for all the social interaction you deprived yourself of. it was quite endearing, if you were being honest. (maybe you didn't want to be all mysterious and nonchalant anymore! was that so bad?)

principle was principle after all.

"we can go to your bunker if you want," you said after he finally gave you a chance to speak. it's not like what you were about to do was any more interesting.

you didn't know how it was possible, but he smiled even wider. "really!? great! it's this way!" he took your hand and ran in the direction he pointed.

(and if your heart skipped a beat as he did so? well, that was for your information only)

"you like?" leo swung the door open and swooped an arm out proudly. "i'm still cleaning it up so it's a little messy, but there's so much cool stuff here! i don't know why nyssa didn't tell me about this. also! look at this dragon i found! his name's festus!"

he ran over to an astoundingly large bronze dragon. to say you were impressed would be an understatement.

"whoa."

"i know right!?"

"why do you always have a frown on your face?" leo asked one day. his hands itching to tug the corners of your mouth upward.

what? "i'm not frowning. this is my normal face." your face knitted in confusion.

he blew out a sigh, shaking his head in response. "seriously?"

"why would i be joking?" you deadpanned. but maybe that was also your normal voice.

"so like, everyone thinks you're mad at them when you're really just looking at them?"

"wait, people think i'm mad at them?"

"..."

"leo?"

"..obviously, i was not about to just sit there and take that, like it would so not fit my super cool, super funny, super hot and manly vibe-" he cut himself off once he heard a giggle to his right. he looked over to see you, a soft smile on your face.

he thinks he could've died a happy man right then and there. did he, leonidas valdez, just manage to make you smile? and not just that, but laugh? his life goal was complete. zeus could strike him down right there and he'd welcome elysium with open arms.

but of course, he just had to play it cool and not act like he was totally head over heels.

"did i hear a laugh from you?" leo smirked and nudged your shoulder. "y/n, do you think i'm funny? i mean, who wouldn't, right? i'm just hilarious!" he teased.

"shut up," you hid your smile behind your hand as you tried to wipe it off.

"aww!" leo drew you in for a hug, completely forgetting his "play it cool" attitude. he felt you stiffen in his arms, and he immediately let go and scooted back. "i'm so sorry! i don't know why i did that! did i make you uncomfortable? sorry!"

seeing his flustered expression brought yet another smile to your face. (or maybe it was just him in general) "i was just surprised. i liked it, leo."

fuck. if he looked at your precious face a second longer, he'd have to confess his undying love for you right then and there. and there was a lot he had to say.

but actions did speak louder than words. "can i kiss you?"

"yeah."

gods be damned, that boy could kiss.

#*ੈ✎ stories #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #hoo #heroes of olympus #hoo x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackon and the olympians

[ghostboneswrites2]

I really resonated with Daryl x abused reader could you maybe do one where the reader doesn’t let their past define them and shows little signs of abuse like they’re super cheery and happy and doesn’t let their past get them down and but maybe reader has a ptsd attack by Daryl after he confronts her about being so happy especially in an apocalypse and they just realize they relate to each other even if they’re personalities are so drastically and Daryl just comforts reader 🫂

The Painted Bunting

Era: Greene Farm

Summary: Daryl is paired with you on the search for Sophia and snaps at you after growing tiresome of your seemingly endless kindness.

Note: No more laptop for now since the cord broke so I hope you’ll all forgive the lack of my usual post formatting :(

Warnings: profanity, mentions of past abuse, grumpy sassy asshole Daryl (the man we originally fell in love with)

Banner credits on this post

        Shining hair in the rays of the sun, an infectious laugh, a beaming grin that never seemed to dissipate. A glowing beacon in the dark. That was what you were. And, admittedly, it got under his skin a little, so Daryl tended to avoid you. You weren’t oblivious to it, but you accepted it for what it was. After all, you couldn’t win them all, right? 

        You had always been that way; soft, gentle, graceful, kind. If you had never let the past change that for you, you certainly wouldn’t let present day events change it, either. Maybe the world had become a nightmare, but that didn’t mean you had to be one too. 

        Daryl thought that what really gritted his teeth about you was that through everything that had happened, you never changed a single bit. Not like the others had; not like he had. 

        After the world fell, after the camp by the quarry was overrun, after the CDC, after Sophia had gone missing, you remained exactly the same. For all of the afore mentioned, Daryl found you to be one of the most vexing people he ever had the displeasure of interacting with, second only to Shane, who could have easily been traded off for his own brother, Merle.

        Needless to say, he was peeved at the idea that you were sent on search duty with him after he hurt himself in the ravine. Rick decided a buddy system would be beneficial to all of the search party participants, and you volunteered to tag along, because of course you did.

        You weren’t so much looking forward to spending so much one on one time with the man, yourself. You didn’t necessarily have an issue with him, but you were all too aware of the issue he seemed to have with you. Really, you couldn’t relate to him at all. Not everyone around camp was perky and sweet, and rightfully so, but Daryl was such a brooding presence and you just couldn’t put yourself in that frame of mind.

        The two of you had set out just after dawn and the hours ticked by as you made friendly conversation and Daryl occasionally offered you a measly grunt in response. 

        “Do you think we’ll find anyone out here?” You asked. “I mean, aside from Sophia. I know we’ll find her.”

        “Pro’ly better if we don’t find nobody else.” Was his first verbal response all day. You shrugged. 

        “I don’t know. Could be good. I’m sure there are people who could really use some help.”

        “Ain’t our problem.” He argued. “Gotta look out for our own. The hell you worried about helpin’ strangers for when we ain’t even found the little girl we’re after?” 

        “Oh, no.” You chuckled nervously. “It’s not that I was just —“ You cut yourself off, sensing an oncoming ramble. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

        “Mm.” He hummed, pausing his footsteps to take a breath and scan his surroundings. After a moment, he continued forward, and you followed without question . Admittedly, you had no clue how to track, so if anything you were there in case he got hurt.

        “So, if someone needed your help… You wouldn’t help?” You asked innocently.

        He whipped around to face you, the aggression behind his motion drawing you to a dead stop.

        “The hell’s your problem, huh?” He snapped. You blinked. “It’s the end of the goddamn world and you’re askin’ me about some hypothetical moral dilemma? Let me tell you somethin’, girl; ain’t no damn morals in the apocalypse. Ain’t no more law and order! It’s just us,” he paused, sending an arrow through the skull of a walker that had crept up behind you. You flinched and turned to watch its carcass thud on the forest floor. “And them.” He concluded. 

        “I—I was just making conversation.” You mumbled timidly. 

        “Why? It��s not a social call! We’re out here to find that little girl. This is why I didn’t need no damn babysitter.” He complained.

        “I was just trying to be nice.” You defended.

        “Nice?” He scoffed. That simple word seemed to trigger something in him as his eyes lit up with aggravation. “Don’t you get it? It ain’t about bein’ nice anymore. It’s about survival. Got dead people standin’ up and eatin’ people and you’re worried about bein’ nice. Walkin’ around passin’ out water and food and gigglin’ with everybody like we ain’t got a bunch o’ dead bodies stumblin’ around us just waitin’ to take a bite out.” 

        Maybe it was the way he raised his voice, or the way his eyes shot flaming daggers of fury right through your chest, or the way he threw his arms down and spat words at you like you were some puny, wretched little thing. You didn’t know what it was, but somewhere in the whirlwind of heated exchange, his voice slowly blended together with the other voice — the one that still lived in the back of your mind and ate away at you every day.

        The voice that belonged to your own father, the one person who struck true, genuine fear in you. Before you knew it, that old sensation of real terror, the one you’d buried somewhere deep inside you and covered with cement, was breaking free and engulfing you. 

        You were frozen, like a fawn under the scrutinizing gaze of a predator. The humid air felt like a thick paste as you struggled to gulp it down and catch a breath. At first, Daryl felt inclined to criticize your tears as a show of weakness, fragility, inability to handle a little raise of the voice. He quickly noticed, however, that this was no simple burst of reactionary emotions. No, this was something much deeper and it was rattling you to the core. There was a distant look in your wide eyes, one that he came to recognize, even if it took him a minute. 

       He shifted on his feet, scanning you, unsure how to intervene. 

        “Hey.” He eventually called out, but it was clear his voice wasn’t reaching you. This was the final piece of confirmation he needed. You were having an episode, the kind he experienced a few times when he first got out of his father’s abusive home. 

        He sighed and grabbed your trembling shoulders. You jumped but you didn’t flee or strike out. His touch seemed to dry you out and shrivel you up like a raisin. You shrank into yourself, hyperventilating. 

        “C’mon.” He said softly, ushering you done to your knees. “Hey. Ya gotta breathe.” 

        Your breathe only became more shallow and forced. Tears poured down your cheeks as your chest got tighter. 

        “Just breathe. That’s the only way it’s gonna stop.” He urged. He went to grab your wrists but you panicked, snatching your arms away and falling down on your back. 

        “No! Get away! You can’t do this anymore! I’m not a little kid!” You cried out.

        You were making quite a bit of noise by this point, between the gasps for air and the sobs. He crouched over you and grabbed your shoulders. 

        “(Y/N), ya ain’t there anymore. Wherever it is, it’s gone. In the past. It’s just you and me right now, and we ain’t there. We’re here.” He soothed, hoping his voice could find you somewhere in the abyss. “Just listen. Ya hear that? It’s a Painted Bunting. Look,” he pointed up into a tree at a bright multicolored bird, similar in its beauty to a parrot, only much smaller. “It’s right up there. Ya see it?” 

        Your breathing had started to slow down now, those shallow inhales finally reaching a little deeper within. Your eyes lazily followed his finger to the bright little bird singing a flute-like melody. 

        “Ya see it?” He asked again. You managed to nod once, still holding your arms tightly to your chest as you laid flat on the bed of leaves and twigs. He took a moment to see you, to really take you in, and he realized you were beautiful. Not just in the way a pretty girl with a nice personality was beautiful, but in a way that left so much of who you really were unsaid.

        “Just watch it.” He whispered, glancing back up at the feathered creature, hoping it would stick around long enough to bring you back down to earth. “They take two years to look that pretty. Did ya know that?” He asked, glancing back down at you. Your eyes were still on the bird, but you shook your head no. “Yeah. Only the males, too.” He added. “Otherwise, they’re just kinda greenish and yellowish.” 

        Once your chest was rising and falling with a steady rhythm, you finally looked over at him. Humiliation began to set in. You quickly sat yourself up and brushed the dead foliage away from your clothes and hair. 

        “I’m sorry.” You mumbled. “That hasn’t happened in a long time.” 

        “‘S okay.” He shrugged, standing himself back up as well. “Happens.”

        “Yeah, we’ll, it shouldn’t. Not nowadays.” 

        “Can’t help it when it does.” He assured you. “I get it.”

        “Maybe I should head back.” You suggested.

        “We both can. If ya wanna. It’ll be dark soon anyways.”  

        “I don’t wanna make you lose your trail or.. Ya know.” You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt.

        “Nah. Ain’t no use after dark, anyways. We’d just be stumbling in circles and bumpin’ into each other.” He insisted, contrastingly soft in comparison to before your episode. 

        “Oh. Right.” You nodded. Just as you got ready to turn back toward the farm, he cleared his throat.

        “Ya wanna talk about it?”

        “About what?” You turned back to him. He shifted his weight anxiously, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Offering an ear to listen was at least ten yards outside the perimeter of his comfort zone. “About that?” You asked. “That was nothing. Just something stupid that happens sometimes. That’s all.”

        While his tone was much kinder and warmer than before, yours was cold, dull, and tired. Those episodes could take a lot out of a person, and he was no stranger to that fact. 

        “Sometimes it helps.” He said. “Talkin’ about it. Makes it a little less…” He trailed off, searching for the word he wanted. “Less, uh… Consuming.”

        “It never gets less consuming.” You argued.

        “It does.” He insisted. 

         “And how would you know?” You asked, impatience lacing your words.

        “I used to get ‘em too.” He admitted. “Been awhile but… I just get it. That’s all.”

        You studied him. In all the weeks you’d spent around the man, you’d never seen him so genuine, or really so open. He never seemed to look at you like another person. You were always just another load on his shoulders. 

        “My dad.” You finally spoke. He nodded.

        “Me too.” 

        “I’m sorry.” You sympathized.

        “Me too.” He agreed. 

        “We should go.” You sighed, turning away again. 

        This time you didn’t wait for him, you just started walking, until he called out behind you; “‘M sorry.” You stood still, but you didn’t look back. He knew he had your attention, though, and he knew he had to say something else. “I know I did it this time. I shouldn’t’ve yelled at ya like that.”

        “It’s okay. Maybe you were right.” 

        “Nah.” He shook his head, taking slow steps to catch up to you. “I wasn’t. It’s good. Ya didn’t let none of that shit make ya bitter. Keep it that way. Else you’ll end up a grumpy redneck.” He joked. You suppressed the small smile that tugged at the corner of your lips.

        “Maybe the grumpy rednecks of the world got it figured out.” You said, walking again once you felt him catch up. 

        “Nah. I don’t know shit about shit.” He admitted, eliciting a small laugh from you. You shook your head.

        “I don’t think anyone does.” You reasoned.

        On the hike back to the Greene farm, you two shared some light banter, some stories of the past, some laughs and extended looks. He grew finder of you that day. The critical glares he’d send you from a distance were replaced with admiration and respectful nods. You’d often catch him looking and flash him a big smile, waving at him before you attention was drawn elsewhere. 

       You both learned that maybe the two of you were differently colored fruit, but you grew from the same tree, and you weren’t so different after all. And, that sentiment was never lost or forgotten. It carried with you for as long as you two knew each other. 

Taglist || Masterlist

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s @l0kilaufeys0n7 @uhnanix

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl x female reader #daryl twd #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x you #daryl x y/n

[levyfiles]

i feel like if they just said straight up that they don't want to be youtubers cause they're "better than that" - which honestly feels like the subtext here - it would have been better than this disingenuous sentimental nonsense followed by an ask for money, the phrasing of which made it sound like we should feel guilty for consuming their art for free till now

OK, I have said this a few times but this is going to be my last time saying this on tumblr.

Youtube is a platform once built for users in 2006; the idea was for those locked out of the industry to have an opportunity to share their creations. As time went on, the very moment that content started to be funded by sponsors, the platform changed. Decades later, the platform--and believe me when I say this--is controlled by sponsors and ads. A lot of people don't realise this because we all have our ad-block on. We work tirelessly not to have to consume media peddled to us with agendas and propaganda; we pay for software so we don't get it.

We accepted Youtube charging some of us monthly so we don't see ads, so we can enjoy the platform more comfortably. If you're in your early-to late 30s then you know that Youtube crafted a whole lot of our experience online but it has not gone without changes. The ad breaks are now populated with sponsors with a big list of prerequisites and we sit there and guffaw through a straight 40 seconds of a creator peddling fast-fashion, cheap drinks with poison in them, platforms that sell $1 items off the backs of slave labour, and knives that don't even work just so we can sit back and pretend we'd rise to the occasion when an opportunity to practice socialism presents itself.

Well, here's the bad news. Socialism does not mean you sit back and get everything handed to you. That is literally right-wing propaganda. Socialism is every one taking a piece of what they have to crowd-source the things we want. It is letting artists be artists to create things that do not contribute to consumerism/corporate culture.

In the end, the internet has shown me that all these LARPING children believing in the future where shit gets handed to them off the backs of other people's hard work will open their greedy maws and scream slurs, insults, and backhanded statements at any creator who seizes control of the thing they've produced. You don't want to see artists grow; you want creators/artists strapped to the capitalism hamster wheel while they create the same trendy crap that sponsors tell you that you want until they burn out and retire.

The saddest thing of all is the irony of you calling that video sentimental nonsense when it shows you the story; it tells you that they all got started the way most of our favourite youtubers started but then Buzzfeed happened which may have opened some doors for them but if Ryan didn't fight tooth and nail, we would have had a Netflix show with some non descript white guy hosting it because that's the vision Buzzfeed saw. It's what so many of you see when you want the thing you like, that you watch them work tirelessly to make, to be free forever.

Of course they're too good for Youtube. Youtube is trash now and you're going to start to notice that very quickly now.

#watcher #shane madej #ryan bergara #steven lim #youtube

[avaisdramatic]

Watcher made a response to the valid criticisms that communicated a better solution going forward and an apology for their mistakes. In three days, they were able to synthesize the criticisms and find a better solution. Can we agree now that they are not, and never were, horrible, irredeemable people? Nor are they rich capitalists who don’t care about their community?

They are just people, trying to make content, and do what is best for the members of their company as well as their community.

I’m very happy for the outcome as people who cannot afford the subscription will be able to continue watching. I am happy that they acknowledged the flawed presentation of the change that left audience members feeling ignored. I am happy that the creators I support are the kinds of people who listen to criticism and make changes.

As they stated, this was a lesson for them. However, it should also be a lesson to the community that we cannot jump to conclusions and moralize every issue. Demonizing people and making assumptions before even allowing them to respond is just not how the world works. That isn’t how you have good interactions with people, especially in the context of creators. Many are so far removed from the idea that they are human beings, and not the online best friends built into your phone whenever you want entertainment.

I am extremely happy for both the watcher boys and the audience who processed their feelings in mature, respectful ways and gave honest, genuine criticism.

For everyone else who decided to berate those who they disagreed with, demonize people, build narratives that blame specific people (Steven), and all around acted childish, entitled, and hateful: fuck you, you don’t deserve their content and you’re lucky your spiteful attitude didn’t turn them away from content creation all together.

#watcher #ryan bergara #shane madej #steven lim #watcher entertainment #watcher tv #ghost files #mystery files #survival mode #puppet history

[ramp-it-up]

II Most Wanted Pt. 3: Drivin’ you crazy...

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup" (w/ Betty Bronco)

Summary: Sy tells his story and you tell yours. And all of that pent up feeling has to go somewhere, right?

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, Angst, pining, fluff. Mentions of teenage pregnancy, cheating, deception, divorce, breakups., self-destructive behaviors, fighting, promiscuity, mentally abusive relationships, miscarriage. Army life. Old automobiles, a 20 year high school reunion, a drive-in, red meat and french fries, dirty talk, voice kink, mentions of masturbation, fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving), grown ppl getting NASTY in the back of a car, graphic depictions of sex acts.

Read at your own risk.  Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N:  This is the third installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my cold dead writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

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Previous part

—--

You let Sy’s arm go and settled in for the ride once you got to State Route 405. The window was down and you were making waves in the wind, just like you used to do all those years ago. 

Sy looked over at you and felt something that he couldn’t name at that moment, and the feeling intensified when you reached up and pulled your hair out of the chignon, letting it go wild in the wind. 

He didn’t know he made a sound in his throat as he admired how you looked in the moonlight. You looked back over at him, hair whipping around your face; gorgeous.

“What?”

He realized that he was grateful that you agreed to come with him at all. He said something instead of what he was feeling.

“You hungry?”

You looked out to the highway and smiled at the road.

“Looks like you already know the answer to that.”

Sy nodded at you, a slight smile on his lips. He felt the familiar rhythm of you two falling back in sync. Didn’t seem like two decades at all. 

“Just checking.”

After a comfortably silent ten minute ride, you pulled up at Cardin’s Drive-Thru, an institution in your town. You grinned at Sy.

“The world is your oyster, order anything you want.”

He waved his hand toward the menu on his side of the car and you giggled at the familiar phrase. You scooted closer to him on the bench seat. 

“Sorry. I wear glasses now. Didn’t bring them.”

Sy didn’t know why the image of you in glasses got him hard. You glanced at him as you leaned over him to look at the menu to see if it had changed. He took in your breasts as you gave him a view of your cleavage as you leaned over his lap. Lord, give him strength.

“No worries at all, Buttercup.”

His voice was gruff and you felt his breath on your face as you closed your eyes and took a whiff of burgers and fries and Sy.

Sy was practicing all of his restraint as you stayed close to him to look at the menu.

“I want…”

That voice did something to Sy, and he had to shift in his seat. You and that damn cute look of curiosity didn’t help the situation in his pants either. 

“I want… a Smokey Burger and a chocolate shake please!” 

You were as happy as a clam.

“Y’know. I’ve had dreams about Cardin’s burgers, especially since I stopped eating red meat two years ago. But you know what, tonight seems to be all about “Fuck It!” 

Sy raised his eyebrow at you.

“You just ordered a burger with double patties and bacon.”

“Yep,” You popped the p. “I know.” 

You grinned at him and he shook his head.

“Still living dangerously, I see.”

You raised your chin.

“I’m still living,” you replied.

An understanding passed between you.

“Amen.”

Sy stretched his long arm out of the window to press the button and order, and you were staring at his forearms again. Don’t be such a slut, you thought.

“Yes, we need a Smokey Burger, a chocolate shake, a Huge Burger, no onions, and an extra large Frenchy fries, with a large Dr. Enuf.”

He smirked at you after the order was confirmed.

“It’s a given that you would come for my Frenchy fries.”

Sy gave you a short history about the ownership of the legendary drive-in, and how the new owners were long time residents who vowed to restore its former glory, including the world famous Frenchy fries.

“Well, Cardin’s fries are legendary, but I have to be careful. ‘M not the same size I used to be.”

You smoothed your dress down as much as you could while seated. Sy followed the path of your hands on your body and licked his lips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You look damn good to me.”

Sy arched his eyebrow at you and you laughed nervously.

“I’m dead serious. You look even better than I remember, Buttercup. You were always so pretty.”

You were quiet as you looked into his eyes. He was being sincere.

“Sy, that’s sweet.”

He moved toward you, getting into your space. You couldn’t breathe, and your primal brain was kicking in.

“If you only knew what thoughts I’m thinkin, Buttercup. You wouldn’t call me, “sweet.”

 His eyes ran over your body posessively. 

“You are still the finest woman I’ve ever seen.”

You were locked in, ready to ask him what he was thinking and let him ruin your life all over again. You parted your lips to lick them and speak when you heard the metal of the drive-in tray connect with the open window behind Sy and your focus shifted as Sy moved away.

“Got your food here!”

Sy ran his hand through his short curls. He looked annoyed. At the interruption, his hair, maybe both?

“Haven’t had my hair this long in a while. Growing it out.”

You reached out and arranged an errant curl.

“Looks good on you, Sy.”

He just grinned and then turned to get the food. 

Once the food was in the car and paid for, he asked, “Wanna take this up to the Lookout?”

You looked at him skeptically.

“Only so we can tailgate and talk and stretch our legs. And look at the view.”

He smiled that rogueish smile at you. Some things never change, you thought with a smile. You sipped your shake, which was still really too thick to drink, and nodded.

“What the hell. You only live once, right?”

“Ya damn right, Buttercup.”

— 

You sat eating Sy’s Frenchy fries under the star light as country music played and Sy looked at you thoughtfully, Beyonce playing in the background.

Il tuo fedel

Sospira ognor

Cessa, crudel

Tanto rigor

Ooh

Ooh

“You ready?”

You hopped off the liftgate and stood in front of him, prepared to hear his story.

“Let’s go.”

Sy took a deep breath as you waited and listened. 

“Well, the fact is, you told me so.”

“What do you mean?”

“You asked me if I was sure that the baby was mine. Then I got mad and that made things worse. And that was the last time you spoke to me.”

“Yeah.”

“And after you broke up with me, rightly so in that situation, I decided to be there for my family. Becca and I got married at the courthouse before the baby came, and I enlisted in order to have an income and health insurance for the baby.”

Your heart clenched.

“I shipped out right after little Jeremiah was born.”

There was a wistful smile on Sy’s face that warmed your heart.

“Becca stayed with her parents while I was on tour, and for two years we were apart. It was hard bein’ away, and Becca and I didn’t have the best relationship, but I was set to make it work for our kid, ya’ know?”

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less, Sy.”

He looked at you long and hard.

“Becca broke the news to me when I came back. The baby was Jeremy’s, but he didn’t want to accept responsibility at the time, and she knew I would.”

“What?”

Your mouth dropped open. 

“Jeremy Atkins. Your best friend Jeremy?”

“Unhhunh.”

Sy looked as hurt as if it just happened.

“I am so sorry Sy.”

“It was a helluva blow. And I was so angry. At myself for believing the lie, you know? For getting attached to the idea of being a parent.”

Your heart broke for Sy. You moved closer to him.

“I was so self destructive. Got into fights with everyone at every bar within a 50 mile radius. Then, I went right back to Afghanistan, acting as if each one was a suicide mission.”

Sy’s voice lowered.

“Came home in another two years and screwed up the courage to ask Bubbles about you. She told me you were engaged to…”

“Scott. Yeah…”

You couldn’t look him in the eye, but Sy lifted your chin with his fingers, causing you to look him in the eyes.

“And you know what? Thinking that you were happy calmed me down a little. I was proud of you for getting your degree and moving on, so I decided to do the same. Went to college, mostly on line, and then Officer’s Training School, joined Special Forces. Went back to the front and became a leader. Immersed myself in the cause while keeping perspective of my role in it. But a couple of years ago I got injured,”

He saw the look on your face.

“It’s my back. I’m mostly fine. But it allowed me to retire early.”

Sy looked around at the view, the twinkling lights of the town.

“I started a business with a partner, and I volunteered to be the offensive line coach for the high school in my spare time. I even got to coach Jeremiah his senior year. He’s turned out to be a good kid.”

He looked at you, and time seemed to melt away. He was the same Sy you fell in love with 20 years ago. But with so much more wisdom. 

“I live a good life, Buttercup. Don’t feel sorry for me.”

You moved to sit beside him again on the tailgate. You were silent as you tried to think of what to say.

“I don’t feel sorry for you. I’m sorry this happened to you. I forgive you for what I held against you. Sy? D’you forgive me?”

You needed his answer like air.

“Nothing to forgive, Buttercup. Like I said. I can’t complain about my life.”

You looked up at Sy who was looking up at the stars with a wry smile on his face. You looked up, too. He looked back down at your profile.

“What about you? How has your life been?”

You took a deep breath, contemplating that question and the stars. You decided to tell him everything. Well, almost everything.

“I was angry too, Sy. You know that. Angry that all my well laid plans were turned to dust in a moment. When I went to college across the state, I decided to stop caring so much. So, I fucked everyone in sight.”

Sy winced. You chuckled.

“I calmed down in a couple of years and met Scott. He seemed so steady? He was in law school, and his father was a partner in a big firm. He said that I didn’t have to finish my degree; I could just go home with him to New York City, have a couple of babies and be a society wife. Seemed like a good idea, so I did. I left just two semesters shy of having my degree in architecture.” 

You shook your head at your gullibility.

“My mom was elated, thinking I’d hit the jackpot.”

You got up again and started pacing, hands wrapped around yourself as you thought back to that time in your life.

“It was not good. Two miscarriages, 3 mistresses, and 8 years later, I finally found the courage to leave with Carla when she came to visit. I vowed never to go back to that headspace again.”

Sy stood up then, fists closed at his side and his jaw clenched.

“I didn’t know. I asked about you, but neither Bubbles nor Blossom told me that. I would have come for you, Buttercup.”

You smiled at him. 

“They knew better than to say a word to you. Seven years ago I didn’t want anyone to know. And I didn’t need rescuing. I rescued myself.”  

You smiled again and Sy just wanted to hold you.

“Went back to school and finished my degree. Lived life on my own terms.”

You looked him in the eye again.

“So yeah, I guess I have a pretty good life, too.”

“I’m glad, Buttercup.”

Sy sat down again and your eyes moved down the length of him. Why did brown dress shoes get you so hot? You had a problem.

“You sharing this good life with anyone?”

Sy’s voice made you nervous all of a sudden. You looked at your hands.

“Not at the moment, no. I’m single.”

Sy seemed to let out a breath. 

“Me, too, been single ever since I retired.”

You didn’t know what to say. 

“Oh.”

Sy stood up and walked in front of you. You were still looking at his shoes.

“Ya know, I’ve only felt like I’ve been in love once, no. Twice in my life.”

“Hmmm.”

You were afraid of this conversation and you couldn’t fully participate. 

“Please look at me Buttercup.”

You did as he asked. His eyes were burning right through you.

“The first time I felt that was 20 years ago, with you. And the second…”

Sy moved toward you and took your hands in his.

“Hell, we’ve wasted enough time, Buttercup. The truth is,when I saw you tonight I realized that I’m still in love with you now.”

—-

The wind was knocked out of you. How were you supposed to respond?

“Sy, I- I can’t survive another hurt. My heart is in pieces.”

“I know, Buttercup. But I promised you that I will love you until the day I die. I meant that shit. I still mean it.”

He moved closer, and he slotted himself between your thighs. His hands went to your hips and he pulled you close.

“Won’t you let me make it up to you? These last 20 years?”

You continued to look into his eyes as you considered his request. You put your hands on his chest as you made your decision.

“No, Sy. I can’t let you do that.”

He looked hurt and his eyes were cast down as his cheeks dusted pink. He thought he blew it. Then you spoke again.

“The past is the past. It’s done. We can try and work on today. And tomorrow. One day at a time. I’d like to try with you.”

Sy’s brow furrowed, but his face softened as he realized what you were saying. He gave you a soft smile.

“Fair enough, Buttercup. Let’s work on today. And tomorrow. I’ll give you some time.”

You thought about how Sy was always a gentleman with you, never pushing you to do anything you didn’t want to do, always putting your needs first. Well, you needed him now.

Your hands were fisting his shirt now, pulling apart so that you could see his dog tags against his chest hair, and that image sent you feral. You pulled him toward you. Sy sucked in a breath as you left a soft kiss on his lips, his beard tickling your cheeks. He seemed frozen as you pulled away. 

“Mmmhm.”

Sy grunted in his throat and his hands came up to your waist. His cock was swelling and he felt on the edge of control. 

“I wanna kiss you again, Buttercup. And not in a ‘sweet’ way.”

“Do it, Sy. We’re grown now.” 

You were breathless at the emotion and lust in his voice. 

Sy moved his hand to the back of your neck and you shivered as he carded his fingers at the back of your scalp, tugging on your curls to make you look up at him.

“‘M not sure you are ready for all that I want, Buttercup.”

And his mouth descended on yours, his thumb came around and ticked your jaw open for him to invade your senses with himself. He kissed you like he owned you, and his hands ended up on both sides of your head as you moaned your way through the kiss. He pulled away, looked at your lips, then went back in to kiss you again.

“Ya got my mind runnin’ baby. Those lips. Fuck. I’m down bad.”

Sy’s cock was hard and aching, and his hands were on your body: those thighs, that ass as he pulled you closer to him. Then he stopped and leaned away, searching your face. Your eyes were dilated and those lips were parted.

Holy fuck, was he a goner.

You whimpered and pulled him closer, your hands going to his ass as he kissed you again. He was laughing at you as he pulled away this time.

“Look who’s getting spicy no-”

Sy stopped talking when you ripped his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere. You were disappointed when you saw the tank he was wearing underneath.

“Sorry Sy. I ruined your shirt. I don’t know what came over me.”

You looked up at him under your lashes and he couldn’t tell if you were being facetious or not. You toyed with his dog tags, imagining them waving in your face as... Shit. What were you doing?

Sy stepped back and pulled the shirt off, and pulled the tank out of his pants, then came back to you immediately, hands moving up your thighs, pushing your short dress up even further.

“I know what came over you. Same thing’s that’s been possessing me for years, Buttercup.”

Sy leaned down to capture your eyes and you were stuck. You were locked in on him as he proceeded to destroy your sou.

“You’ve been drivin’ me crazy for years, running around my mind as I did a lot of things. Thought of you when I was training, eating, doing things around the house. When I was in-country and alone in my tent at night. When I…”

Sy stopped and licked his lips as his hands reached the tops of your thighs, long fingers toying with the waistband of your panties. You squirmed in his grip.

“Shit, Buttercup, do you ever think of me when you touch yourself?”

You were mute, mouth open to breathe, and Sy knew you were in the zone. 

“Cause I sure as hell do. Do you know how often I’ve imagined you wrapped around me when it was just my hand?”

Sy whispered it in your ear, but pulled back to see your reaction, which was wide-eyed lust. You licked your lips and nodded, ready to hear more. 

“Time and space is nothin’ to fight this powerful magic that is the thought of you, Darlin’. I imagine you, imagining me while you touch your pretty little pussy, circling your little clit with your delicious wetness. I dream of you getting off because of me, just like I cum so fucking hard just thinking of you. Every time.”

Sy watched your eyes close and your chest heave as you tried to regulate. He continued with his seduction.

“...But I know it’s nothing like the real thing.”

Your own fingers ventured below his undershirt, finding thick abdominal muscles there, and a dense happy trail. His stomach clenched in response to your touch.

“Mmmm. Can I touch you too, Buttercup? Are these panties soaked? Can I check to make sure?”

You were nodding as your hands went up his pecs, grabbing them, your fingers ghosting over his nipples. Sy moved his hands at a glacial pace it seemed, because you wanted him instantly where you needed him most. 

He found your sodden center over the gusset of your panties and you pressed into his light touch. He groaned as he started rubbing up and down your clothed seam and pressing the now sticky material into you. You leaned forward and started licking and sucking the veins that popped up on his neck. He moaned.

‘You got me so far gone, baby. I wanna…’’

He grabbed the side of your panties and you whimpered with need.

“Just say the word, and I’ll stop. But right now I can’t help myself. Need to feel you, touch you, taste you.”

“Don’t stop, Sy. Been waiting so long.”

Sy put his forehead against yours, breath huffing in time with yours. You again asked for what you wanted.

“Sy. I need you. Need to feel y-”

Your words caught in your throat as Sy pulled your panties to the side and sunk his fingers into your wetness. The obscene slosh of you made Sy pulse in his pants. He trailed up and down your cut, shaking his head and clenching his jaw.

“Why?” 

He looked up at you as if you had wounded him, blue eyes blazing.

“Why are you so fucking…so fucking wet? How do you expect for me t-to f-f fuck! T’ function when…?”

The stutter did you in.

“‘S’all you, Sy. Got wet when I first saw you t’night…”

Sy pulled his fingers out and tasted them, moaning, then growling, and then took a hold of your waist and practically threw you in the back of the truck. He leaned over the gate, pulled your thighs apart, then tore your panties off, causing you to squeal.

“You’re so fucking pretty. Gotta taste you, Buttercup. Can’t believe it’ll be my first time.”

“Go for it.”

You winked and smiled at him, but the look was wiped from your face as he dove into your crease, tongue licking a rude stripe from the bottom to the top of you. You put your hand over your mouth as you moaned.

Sy looked up at you, offended.

“Don’t keep your sounds from me, baby. Need to hear the real thing instead of my imagination.”

He went back to work kissing your clit, then sucking it into his mouth with increasing intensity. The slight burn from his beard was delicious. You got a grip of his hair as he manhandled your thighs, keeping you in place as you writhed and arched beneath him. He moaned against you while talking to your pussy. 

“So fucking good for me.” 

“Taste like a jar o’ spicy honey...”

“Hmmm. Beard’s all soaked now. That’s my girl.”

“Gettin’ even wetter for me, that’s what I like. Gimme.”

“I love this pretty little pussy.”

His proclamations were punctuated by kisses, licks, and sucks and finally, he pushed one thick finger into you as you called his name. The cunilingus, penetration, and praise had you teetering on the precipice.

“Syyyyyy!”

“That’s it. Let me hear you. Damn, you’re so fucking hot and so godamn tight. Dream about giving you my cock, but I don’t know if you can take it…”

He knew he had you as he leaned back down to suck your clit like taffy candy again. You watched him and moaned. Then he added another finger. You stiffened. Then he crooked his fingers, telling you to come to him, and you did. And all over his face.

Sy took off his tank and wiped his face with it, then unbuckled his pants and fisted his cock, crawling in the back of the truck with you.

“Don’t have any condoms, just let me… just let me rub one out…so fucking hard for you Buttercup.”

Sy was so far gone, his mind was mush.

“C’mere, Baby…”

You reached for him as he shuffled near you on his knees and started stroking, admiring the large mushroom cap of his cock glistening from pre-cum in the starlight. You fell in love with the way his length curved into the curls on his abs, and the way his breath hitched as your hand tried to close around him. You pressed your nose into his belly to inhale his scent, careful not to stop what your hand was doing. 

It was your turn to pleasure him.

“I do think about you, Sy. I imagine deep throating you while you play in my pussy. Makes me cum so hard against my little bullet.”

You pressed a kiss near his belly button as his cock jerked in your hand and his abs clenched. His hand went to your hair. You could tell that he wanted to move your mouth to his dick, but that he was holding back. You lifted your hand, jacking him faster as you kissed his balls, which were so tight against him.

“Wan’ you to cum all over my stomach, my tits…”

Sy groped your chest, searching for and then twisting your taught nipple when he found it. He was outright panting as you talked him through it.

“.... my ass, my lips, Sy…”

His groan was louder now and his knees were shaking as you licked a stripe up the underside of him, pausing, to purse your lips and gloss them in the clear fluid at his tip. You gazed up at him as you stuck your tongue out and kitten licked him.

“Truth is, I’m a slut for you. Fuck my face Sy,”

“Shhhhhitttttttt….!”

Sy grabbed your head and used your mouth while you concentrating on taking his thick length and breathing. 

“You’re a slut, hunh? My slut?”

You nodded as best you could, only to have your eyes roll as he pushed down your throat.

“Dream about swallowing my cum? D’ya? Like a good girl?”

“Ummhnnghhh!”

There were tears rolling down your face and saliva dripping down your chin.

“So fucking pretty swallowing my cock. Fuck….here it… fucking… comes….. Fuckkkk!”

Sy roared as his dick pulsed cum directly down your throat and you received it, letting your jaw go slack. Sy groaned as he pulled out and stroked the last of his spend on your outstretched tongue.

“So fucking nasty, Buttercup, who woulda thought?”

He beamed at you as you showed him his handiwork. He closed your mouth and you swallowed before he pulled you in for a filthy kiss. He cleaned your face with his tank top, straightened your clothes and his, and then pulled you to him.

“That was…”

You were hoarse, and you laughed. Sy laughed with you.

“That was hot.”

“Yeah. It was great.”

“I love you, Buttercup.”

There was silence on your end. You shivered as you thought about what was holding you back.

Sy didn’t want any awkwardness. He kept it moving.

“It’s getting chilly out.” 

He climbed out of the back of the truck and picked up his shirt, flicking any dust off of it and put it on you. Then, he put his tank top back on.

“Sy! That’s… Dirty.”

You blushed as you thought of your fluids all over it.

Sy lifted it and smelled it, then grinned back up at you.

“Yeah, smells like your pussy. Don’t think I’ll ever wash it.”

“Jacob Syverson!”

You swatted at his chest.

“Don’t act all shy on me now, not after what we just did, Buttercup.” 

He lead you back around to the passenger seat again and buckled you in. You bit your lip wondering what came next. Was this really happening? 

In a few minutes you were back at your car. The parking lot was empty except for your rental. Sy jumped out and opened your door. When you were back in your car, he leaned through the window and kissed your lips. 

“You’re here until Monday, yeah?”

It was Friday night. There was a weekend of activities for the reunion planned.

“Yeah. I’ll be at the cookout tomorrow, and church and brunch on Sunday. And I have a job interview Monday morning.”

Sy raised his eyebrow at that last bit, but didn’t ask for an explanation.

“Can I see you tomorrow night? Dinner?”

“Okay.”

Why were you so breathless?

Sy was anxious at letting you go.

“I’ll follow you to your air bnb. Just to make sure everything’s safe.”

You smirked at him. 

“Alright.”

Sy followed you to your old neighborhood, which now seemed to be gentrified, got out and checked out the house. Then, you walked him back to the front door. He leaned on the door frame and towered above you.

“G’night, Buttercup."

He licked those sinful lips of his.

"Sweet dreams.”

He leaned down and kissed you and then straightened up, eyes on you hungrily. He was driving you crazy, looking like a sex god. You thought about the amount of time you had left and you made a decision. You grabbed his shirt and pulled him into the house.

“Get your fine ass in here, Sy. I’m not done with you tonight.”

----

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