#Don't ask me to explain because I don't know how

[idle-vapourings]

This is so real.

for myself, I've just had to realize when I'm talking to someone who has no desire to understand me.

because yeah, ableist people be ableist, bigots be bigots, selfish people be selfish, and it will be a losing game every time trying to make them come around.

i had this happen with a friend who had hurt my feelings. I kept it very short and polite because I didn't want to be angry with her or make her feel bad. and then she interpreted that negatively and had a lot of questions for me about my feelings. so i tried to take that in good faith, and explained myself in more detail. I tried to be both empathetic but clear, but really explain and answer her questions. she kept asking me to explain my feelings and at some point I felt that I was being asked to justify having an emotion, which I explained why that hurt. She wasn't getting it, so I explained with more words in an attempt to be clear while being honest how what was happening was frustrating and hurtful to me. she took that as aggression and an unwillingness to work things out with her (the precise thing I was attempting to do). and then she blocked me.

that stung and for a while i thought, hm did i fuck up. but the thing is, no i didn't. really, what it was about is that she refused to accept that she had done something hurtful. so the issue wasn't how i was communicating. it was that she refused to accept a world where she hurt my feelings - even if I had told her it was okay and that I know she didn't mean harm and that I had moved on. Instead, she needed to dissect why I was hurt to begin with and challenge it, rather than accepting that she was a human being who made a mistake. that person wasn't interested in my feelings or my take on the situation. they were interested in being right. and when they couldn't find a path to that with me, they just bounced.

I've also had this happen when requesting disability accommodations after getting a job offer. I requested clarity. I got obtuse replies. I gave more clarity. I got more obtuse replies. That was interpreted as me not wanting to participate in a good faith process. The reality was, the process was not good faith, and it never would have been, no matter what I said.

This feeling of no matter what you say it being wrong can be crushing and frustrating. because at least for me, I feel my autistic brain is really set on there being a solution, a right way to say something to get through to someone or to bridge a connection. and a sincere desire and deep need to be understood and heard. what I've had to come around to is that... sometimes people do not want to hear me. and if they don't, yeah, no matter what I choose, it results in misunderstanding.

I give it a genuine good go once or twice but if they're still interpreting me in the worst faith way possible or choosing to not really hear me then, yanno, time to not bother talking to someone who isn't listening and go talk to someone else worthwhile. I just try to remember that the failure is not mine, here. Someone who doesn't want to listen will never hear me. And people who don't actually want to hear me are never, ever worth my energy in the long run.

The people who really want to listen are out there. I say my thing, I be myself, and I see what the other person does with it.

I LOVE being autistic and trying to communicate because every time it’s

[kawaiigirly21]

Our Little Soda Pop: Chapter 3

Later on, the rest of that day went about as smoothly as it could go. During the recording, the boys did become a bit more touchy but Natasha simply chalked it up to nerves. She fought the urge to smirk everytime one of them tried to allude to something sexual. She was perfect at playing dumb. As if she couldn't smell their wanton arousal. She knew she triggered something and had perfect and total control. So much for their loyalty to Gwi-Ma.

She bet that if she asked them to, they would give up all alliance with the so-called king. Watching as the boys got through their last lines, Natasha had food brought in so they could eat something after singing for so long. Abby and Baby were the first to attack the food but after minor scolding, made sure to leave some for the other three. “You boys sounded great in there.” Natasha complimented as she fixed a plate for Mystery who practically became attached to her hip. “Thank you Ms. Natasha. We're one step closer to our goal in taking down the hunters.” Jinu replied after taking a few bites of his food.

“Jinu lean forward.” Natasha responded. As he did so, his eyes widened as Natasha took a napkin and wiped the corner of his mouth clean. “There we go. Oh? What's up Mystery?” Natasha asked, turning her attention back to the other idol. “Hey um miss manager? When do we get what Romance got this morning huh?” Abby asked, huffing a bit. “I think we all behaved ourselves today. Don't we deserve a little reward too? How come you touched him?” Baby added. “I don't have to explain myself to you and if you keep asking about it, you won't get it. Eat. You have a photoshoot later.” Natasha replied unbothered.

That evening as the boys wrapped up the last of their photos, Mystery watched as Natasha typed away on her phone with a serious expression. She was talking to someone about something important for them. He loved that about her. She was always working. She always looked so busy. Like she completely had her shit together. He adored that about her. However, he also wished she would take a break every now and then.

“Alright boys. Time to go! Max, I expect those photos by Friday!” Natasha spoke while ushering the band out the doors and into their van. “I call shotgun!” Abby shouted as he practically launched himself into the passenger seat. “You had it on the way over here Abs, let someone else get the seat.” ��Ugh fine!” He huffed as he moved to the back and Jinu climbed in the front. The drive home was silent save for the silent music playing in the background.

After arriving home, while everyone scrambled to get in Natasha's bed, still, she asked to speak to Abby alone in the living room. “I know you didn't want to give up your seat but you still did because I asked. I like when you boys listen to me.” She smiled as she led him to the couch and sat him down. “It makes me happy knowing that you respect me that much.” She whispered before leaning down to kiss him sweetly.

Almost instantly, his arms were around her and bringing her down to his lap. “Do I get some lovin this time?” Natasha giggled slightly before nodding. “Yes you get one thing of your choice tonight.” The man wasted no time in choosing his reward. “I want your mouth on my cock. I need it Mistress… please~” He whined as he began to free his cock from the confines of his jeans. Looking down, Natasha smirked before pressing a quick kiss to his neck.

“You’re a big boy aren't you?” She then moved off his lap and settled on the floor in between his legs. “Nervous?” Abby chuckled. “Oh please. I've had bigger sweetheart.” Natasha sighed before leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of the large cock waiting to take sanctuary in her mouth. That was a lie. Natasha had her fair share of fun sure, but none of her past exploits were ever this well endowed. Taking the tip into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it, her ears perked up at the heavy breaths Abby was starting to take.

Slowly but surely, she started to bob her head on the erection. Taking more and more of the cock until it almost filled her mouth completely. Save for a few inches at the base. “Oh f-fuck… you look so hot…” Now, at this point she would have smirked and made a comment about how desperate he sounded, but doing anything but trying to fit the rest of the cock down her throat was impossible. “Mm… oh yea… keep going…” Abby moaned as he watched Natasha suck his cock.

Although he was definitely enjoying himself, he was also physically fighting the urge to take the older demoness by her hair and fuck her throat. Not because he was worried about her, oh no. He knew she could handle it. It was his own safety he was worried for. Getting on her bad side was something that was not on his list for that evening. Suddenly, he began to moan louder and his grip on the couch tightened as his eyes watched Natasha quicken her movements.

Humming around his cock, creating vibrations that added to the pleasure. “Shit! Y-yes! Please! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” Unable to resist anymore, Abby grabbed a fistful of Natasha's hair and began to fuck her throat. Pushing her head all the way down to his crotch causing her to deep throat him. “Fuck!! Mistress! Your throat feels so good! Your mouth! Mm! Mm! Fuck! So good!” The sounds of her wet mouth fueling his desire and urge to paint her throat white.

“Cumming! Oh shit! I'm cumming!! Yes! Yes! Mistress!! I'm cumming!” Looking up at the man, the moment Natasha's eyes met those of Abby's he immediately came down her throat. Pushing her head all the way down to his crotch once more. “Mistress!!! Mm! Fuck!!!” It didn't take long for the man to come down from his high after Natasha pulled away from his cock. “You alright? I-i didn't mean to get that crazy.”

Natasha only laughed and smiled before standing from her position and kissed his forehead. “I'm fine hun. Are you ok? I didn't think you could sound so…whiny.” She laughed as she watched the man groan before standing as well. “Put that away and get ready for bed. I'll join you shortly.” Natasha smiled before grabbing her phone and walking into the elevator. She then dialed a number, while the elevator descended.

“Natasha. I am pleased to hear from you. How are the boys settling in?” Gwi-Ma asked. “Fine. That's the only update you're getting from me, asshole. Don't contact me anymore.”

@prettygirlkiki

@rivainimermaid

Chapter 4

[ptergwen]

saw the post for ideas 👀… yknow those vlogs peter would film in homecoming? what if the only exception in strange’s spell was to let him keep a copy of those films of you and him/memories of the team. he rewatches them when he needs to feel like someone is there with him eating dinner, on holidays, a rough night of patrol, etc :(

always belong to you ❤︎‬

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w/c: 2.0k

warnings: suggestive jokes, doctor strange being a bully, angst

a/n: ugh you know i love an angst/fluff combo, i lowkey got carried away if you can't tell by the word count lmao but i think y'all will like :) p.s. i have more things brewing so stay tuned!

"ok, so, we just got on the plane. we're taking off in... i don't know, soon."

the camera pans to you half asleep on peter's shoulder. you hide your face in your boyfriend's flannel, grinning nevertheless. "y/n's tired. it's early," peter tells the camera. "but i'm excited," you mumble. he beams and hugs you to his side. "me too. we all are."

you wrap your arms around peter's bicep and rest your chin on his shoulder. "so, where are you the most excited to go? london, right?" peter looks over at you, his hand rubbing up and down your side. "mhm. what about you, venice?" you ask him.

"definitely venice. i’ve been practicing my italian," peter says. you move closer to the camera so you can talk into it. "yeah, he actually learned some italian. and french, for when we go to paris." you smile sleepily. "city of love," peter adds. you peck his lips, and he smiles against yours.

you never actually made it to paris. god, that whole trip was a disaster. it's a miracle his camera even survived it, since most of his stuff literally got blown up. your plans kept getting changed, and peter barely got to spend any time with you or his friends because he got dragged into doing spider-man stuff, spider-man stuff that put everybody in danger.

but it's not spider-man's fault that he lost you — it's peter parker's.

"you've been practicing your british accent. that's something," peter jokes. "oh yeah, true. i also learned british slang. i wanna be cultured like you, innit?" you do an over-exaggerated accent, which peter chuckles at. "c'mon, i never even leave new york. except germany that one time, and..." he lowers his voice. "space."

"what are you doing?" mj pops up behind peter. her, ned, and betty are in the row behind yours. you got stuck next to flash, who's been snapping at one of the flight attendants for something. "just making video diaries of the trip," peter explains. "ooh, aren't those for may?" ned enthusiastically asks from the aisle seat. "hi, may! everybody say hi to peter's aunt!"

"hi, peter's aunt!" betty waves. "sup, aunt milf," flash chimes in. peter clenches his jaw. "hi, may. your nephew woke me up," mj deadpans. she manages a smile. "i don't know how i’m gonna get any sleep around the lovebirds."

"i'm gonna sleep, too. i'm still kinda tired," you tell mj through a yawn, squeezing peter's bicep. "you should try to sleep, darling. there's gonna be a pretty big time difference when we land." you lay your head on peter's shoulder again with a smile that he returns even bigger.

"okay, i will. don't wanna be jet lagged," peter agrees, turning the camera to himself. "well, that's it for now, may. love you! see you when we land!"

"bye, may!" you echo, peter resting his head against yours as the video ends.

you were both so happy back then. now, you don't even remember who peter is. all he has left of you is memories, ironically enough. it's all he has left of any of his loved ones. may is gone, his only family. his best friends have no memory of him, and neither does his team.

but if peter had just thought things through before he asked doctor strange to cast that spell, he wouldn't have needed to cast a second one, and the world wouldn't have forgotten peter parker.

peter wishes he could make you remember him on nights like these, when he's missing you extra. he'd kept to himself all day in his classes — he doesn't really engage with anyone unless he's in the suit. patrol was quiet tonight, though. so as peter lays on his creaky bed at the end of the day, all by himself in his cramped apartment, he's never felt more lonely.

he thought it might make him feel better to watch some of his old videos. his camera is one of the only things he'd kept from before, and it has videos with everyone on it. he watches them sometimes so he can hear your voice, see your face.

"peter! you look so cute in your little lab coat," you say behind the camera. "babe, you can't call me cute in here," peter groans. you zoom in on him setting up some test tubes. "yeah, you think you're so tough cause you're an avenger. spider-man can't be cute, he's too big and scary," you tease.

"maybe not scary, but he's big for sure." peter smirks at the camera. "i can confirm," you smirk at him. peter's eyes widen. "woah, y/n. i meant, like, my arms. you're so unprofessional today, i think i'm gonna need a new camerawoman," peter shakes his head playfully, pouring something into a beaker.

"you can't replace me. i'm irreplaceable," you insist. "yeah. i know you are," peter says, and means it. he can make out a smile in your voice. "anyways, since you're so tough, why don't you take off the coat? and the goggles? i guess you don't need them."

"i can't! if doctor strange comes back and sees, he'll say i’m-"

"-violating safety precautions and being stupidly, dangerously irresponsible."

doctor strange lands on the linoleum floor of the lab, his cloak trailing behind him. peter has his goggles on his head, so he quickly pulls them down. you prop the camera up against a stool subtly, all three of you coming into the frame.

"we're dealing with the quantum realm, parker, something neither you nor i completely understand. let's not take our chances." strange puts on his own pair of lab goggles, giving both you and peter a stern look. you make a face at the camera. "yes, sir. i mean, stephen. i mean... yeah, stephen," peter stutters.

you take his hand to calm his nerves. he laces your fingers together with a grateful smile.

"where's banner?" doctor strange asks. "still not here yet. scott and i started setting up, though," peter answers. "you're certainly no world renowned scientists, but fine. i trust you know enough to handle glassware," strange says sarcastically.

"and what have you been doing, practicing your magic tricks?" you ask doctor strange. "they're not tricks, it's a mystic art. but yes, actually. things work differently in the quantum realm than they do here," he replies, narrowing his eyes at you.

"thanks for clearing that up. wow, you know a lot about this stuff. i can see why they made you sorcerer supreme," you say smugly. doctor strange closes his eyes, visibly irritated. "no, they chose wong. you know that," he says in a monotone. peter bites the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile.

you'd naturally met the avengers over the years you and peter were dating. everybody loved you because peter loved you, and they loved him. doctor strange was another story. peter hardly felt like strange even tolerated him, let alone his girlfriend he was constantly getting humbled by.

you figured that if he did it to peter, someone should do it to him. peter always appreciated you having his back in those moments.

you and strange had your banter, though, and he did love peter in his own way. clearly, considering that he brainwashed the whole world for him on multiple occasions.

"is there a reason you're here exactly?" doctor strange questions you. "yeah, to watch you make pym particles." you shrug. he sighs. "make– it doesn't work that way." doctor strange turns to peter. "what is she doing here?" he crosses his arms over his chest, his cloak mirroring his stance.

"y/n's always here," peter innocently replies, swinging your connected hands back and forth.

"yeah, she's one of us!"

"who said that?" doctor strange demands, looking around the lab.

"it's me, i’m tiny. hold on." scott suddenly grows from the size of an ant to his normal, human size, appearing next to the three of you. doctor strange and his cloak jump backwards.

"have you been here this whole time?" strange's voice raises in anger. "um, yeah. pay attention much?" scott scoffs. "pete already told you, we're setting up. hey, y/n/n." you and scott fist bump. "pete," he claps peter's shoulder. peter nods at him. "hey, scott. keep up the good work."

"solidarity among the bug men, isn't that sweet?" doctor strange dryly remarks. scott points a finger at him. "listen, wizard. you should be nicer to me. i’m your ticket to this whole quantum thing."

the two of them start to argue, so you and peter sneak away. you grab peter's camera again and film him as he finishes setting up for their experiment.

"i can't believe we got all that on video," peter laughs out. "yeah, that was some avengers reality tv shit," you agree. peter tightens more test tubes in place. some have pym particles in them, others empty. you suddenly take peter's chin between your fingers, prompting him to stop what he's doing and look up.

"you know what i was trying to say before? i know you're tough, and strong, but i’ll never just see you as spider-man. you're peter."

his doe eyes lock with yours behind the camera.

"and you might be spider-man to the world, but you'll always be my peter."

peter stops the video. he rewinds it to the part where you call him your peter, and then rewinds it again. tears begin to well up in his eyes. at the time, it was just something sweet you said. you could never have known how much it would mean to him now.

peter curls up on his pillow. he's gripping the camera with both hands, holding on tightly like it's you, because it's the closest thing he has to you. tears drip down his face and land on the screen as the rest of the video plays.

"thanks, baby. i'm not that strong, though. i just try to act like it because i’m scared. this all gets pretty intimidating sometimes," peter admits. "i know, but you deserve to be here. they need you here, and i think you're strong for coming," you reassure him. you flip the camera so it's showing your face and the back of peter's head.

peter kisses your cheek, then your lips lovingly. he can't tell watching it back, but he assumes he tries for more because you giggle and turn your face away.

"okay, guys! we hashed everything out!" scott calls in the background. "something of that sort," doctor strange mutters. "and y/n, since you insist on being here..." the cloak of levitation flies over to you and forms a makeshift hand, holding out a lab coat and goggles. "we have a dress code."

peter snickers at you. you put down the camera and take the lab gear, glaring at doctor strange, who smiles wickedly. strange's cloak floats behind you and taps on the camera lens, alerting his attention to it. his smile drops.

"are you two idiots recording in my lab?" doctor strange asks you and peter. "bruce's lab," scott corrects him. "yeah, it's mr. bruce's. i mean, doctor bruce's. i mean, doctor banner's-" peter cuts himself off when doctor strange comes marching over. he narrowly avoids bumping into him.

strange's cloak swipes the camera off the lab desk. you reach for it, but the cloak floats higher.

"well, until mr. doctor bruce banner shows up, i’m in charge, and this is strictly confidential," doctor strange decides.

"but we're not gonna show anyone, it's just for memories!" peter defends. "bruce always lets us record," you add. strange grabs the camera. "coat and goggles on. now," he reprimands you, scowling at the camera as he shuts it off.

peter actually finds himself laughing when the video ends. he misses you and his team so much, but watching his old videos has been comforting. he's exhausted now, both physically and emotionally, so he gets under the covers and lets himself drift off to the sounds of your voice as the next video plays.

there's a piece of you in each one, and a piece of peter parker, too. the real peter parker — yours. he'll always belong to you, even if you don't know it.

tags

@spidermans-gf @sacharinee @thollandsgirl2013 @pettypeety @girlinlovewithlove @marvelgurl @superlegend216 @angelinabelovedballerina @moniffazictress11 @superlegend216 @doubledizzy22 @mystic-writings @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @lnmp89 @starlight-starks @hollandsangel @ellebutnotwoods @tayyx @valluvsu @ronweasleysslut @winchestersgirl222  @fishingirl12 @raajali3 @niktwazny303 @thismessymasterpiece @alina02 @itsjanedeluca @idkeverythingistakennn @prancerrparkerr @urfayevorite @getwellsoontana @deanswifeyy @marvelita86 @uhhhj13iguess

[arowitharrows]

people keep generally agreeing (?) with this post only to double down on the 'not doing anything' phrase and like, if you want to continue using this sentiment then sure, I'm not stopping you. But I personally won't stand behind it and my first assumption will be that people using it have not fully deconstructed and understood the mechanisms of queerphobia and/or do not understand asexuality and aromanticism.

In the past years, and especially with a focus on queer infighting and "discourse", it has become very clear to me how important it is to understand the reasons behind people's prejudice against certain minority groups. Everyone knows that queerphobia exists, but I find it helpful to ask myself, do I know why it exists? Do I know which fundamental beliefs drive people's hatred? Do I know how these beliefs differ between, e.g. the political far right, conservative christians, or my grandmother who grew up in the 40s? It is so important to consider these things, both in determining how to address the problem of queerphobia in the current context and to avoid pointless discourse about who does or doesn't face discrimination in our society.

So, in the context of this post, I need aspec people to understand that no matter how hard you cling to "we aren't even doing anything", it's not going to save you. Sure, people hate queer sex a lot, and maybe you aren't having queer sex. But it is vital to understand that, usually, their core belief isn't that no one should have sex ever, it's that people should have sex in a specific controlled context - e.g. married, heterosexual, sex for procreation, romantic sex - and they will not be happy with you if you don't comply. Choosing to never have sex is expressing bodily autonomy that they do not want you to have. And if you are clinging to this phrase because of a general feeling of "I'm just living my live, why would anyone hate me for existing?" then yeah, I get that, I really do. But don't forget that that's true for every single queer orientation out there.

Also on that note, I need people to not erase aromanticism from this discussion. If we are talking about aphobia then that includes aromantic people and it includes aromantic people who aren't asexual. It includes the way people react to aromantic people having sex without being romantically attracted to their partners. I feel like often times when people say they don't understand aphobia, and when they try to explain/justify this stance, it's only in the context of "not having sex" and aromanticism is somehow forgotten.

tbh I really dislike how aphobia tends to be discussed whenever there's some kind of incident that makes it visible to general society. The most common response seems to be some variation of "why would anyone hate asexual/aromantic people, they aren't even doing anything" and it just always sits wrong with me. It paints such a passive picture of our existence and feels like a comment influenced by the level of invisibility that aspec people have in society. Why would you be annoyed by someone who is practically invisible? Just go back to ignoring their existence, it's easy!

But despite the invisibility, aspec people are actually doing quite a lot of things that will piss off queerphobic, right-wing and religious people (and hell, even left-wing people). And the most obvious point is that we are actively not performing heterosexuality the way they want us to. People who's entire world view is "cis men and women should be in monogamous, heterosexual marriage and have (white) babies" are not going to lean back and say "oh but those asexuals and aromantics are fine". They will also hate our guts, and they will come up with all sorts of reasons, including insinuating we're all secretly into bestiality, or mentally ill, or not human, or attention seeking children. It's just plain old queerphobia, and like all queerphobia, there's no inherent logic to it which you can worm your way out of by "not doing anything".

And like, there's a lot more that aspec people do which people hate. Raising awareness about amatonormativity? People feel attacked, they hate it. Asexual people having sex? Or not having sex? People hate it! Aromantic people being in (seemingly) romantic relationships? People fucking hate it! Aromantic people having sex? Ohh people hate that!!

I guess the existence of aphobia can be confusing when you haven't spent much time thinking about asexuality and aromanticism, but in the end, these are identities that aren't heteronormative and they will be hit with the same or similar bigotry as any other queer identity. I just get tired of this response after seeing it recycled for 10 years without ever seeming to go any further.

[layla4567]

A pleasent mistake

Bob!reynolds x fem!reader

Summary: A mission goes terribly wrong, after accidentally inhaling a strange substance you and Bob will look at each other differently.

Warnings: smut/filthy, sex pollen, aphrodisiac, p in v, porn with (barely?) plot, Jack off, Y/n use, curse words, possible grammatical mistakes, fingering, slightly mention of drugs/past adiction, making out, praising (M and F recieving), hair pulling (M recieving)

Word count: 5k

You shouldn't have suggested that, if you hadn't opened your mouth none of this would have happened.

That afternoon when you and the group were preparing for a mission, you hesitantly and timidly suggested that Bob accompany you.

Bob. The man who couldn't fight or defend himself unless he was in his Sentry form. Bob, the one who apologized for hitting someone, even if they were an enemy. Yes, that Bob.

When those words came out of your mouth everyone froze in place and turned to look at you slowly as if you had said something stupid, even the one mentioned.

"I hope you're joking," John said sarcastically.

You were about to open your mouth when Ava's voice interrupted you.

"Come on Y/n, we don't have time for this..."

Not believing your words, the group headed for the elevator while you stood there, not knowing whether to explain yourself or not. Bob, who was sitting in an armchair reading, got up to go to your side to help you.

"Uh guys, Y/n didn't finish talking..."

You looked at him gratefully as the team turned to look at you impatiently. You gulped nervously.

"I... meant it. I think Bob can be useful to us on this mission"

"How?" Walker asked incredulously.

You pressed your lips together to avoid answering with some gag irony, "I don't know yet, but he'll be with me all the time, I'll keep an eye on him."

Then you quickly turned to see Bob and took his hand. He looked at it shyly, then fixed his eyes on you, expectant. "But what do you think? The decision is yours. I just thought it would be good for you to get out of the tower for a bit. I know how much you love helping others."

Bob could see the slightly disapproving and suspicious glances from behind your shoulder. He looked down at his feet, thoughtful. He wanted so badly to go with you and help, but he was afraid of messing things up. How could he be useful? He didn't know how to fight, much less defend someone just being Bob. But your small handshake gave him the courage he needed.

"Uhm I think.. I can go with you guys, I mean, I would like to.."

Bob gave you a small smile, and you returned it while the others pouted in disagreement. The only one who accepted this suggestion was Yelena, who raised her hands in the air to get everyone's attention. "Fine, but you must swear that you will stay by Y/n's side and follow her orders at all times, okay?"

Bob nodded several times "Got it"

And honestly? He had no problem following that advice because he loved being stick to you.

And there they were now, gathered in a building, under a ventilation duct. Ava had already taken care of disabling all the alarms and security cameras. You looked up at the duct, thinking of a plan.

"John help me up, Bob you will come behind me"

Walker reluctantly complied, clasping his hands together for your footing. As he did, John gave you a shove upward, and at just the right moment, you grabbed the edge of the duct and began to climb. The same thing happened with Bob.

"Okay guys, we'll wait for you near the lab and tell you what to do" Yelena said through the earpiece.

Once inside the narrow tube, the two of you had to twist and turn to fit through, You were leading the way, and Bob followed closely behind, giving him a nice view of your rear end. Of course, he was trying to concentrate and look at the floor, not your asset. It wasn't as much of a problem for you; you were used to it, but Bob, who had never been on a mission with you before, had a hard time. His massive muscles barely fit inside the tube, and he was constantly straining to avoid hitting the walls. But he kept complaining.

"Ow!"

Without stopping or looking back, you scolded him, "Bob! Don't make so much noise or we'll get discovered- Ah!"

A slap on your butt made you gasp, Bob had accidentally bumped his head into it from looking down.

"Shit! I'm so sorry!!"

Blushing and a little nervous you replied "No worries, but be more careful next time"

"Y-yeah, yeah!"

Finally, to the relief of both of them, after that awkward moment, they reached the end of the duct. But little did they both know that this wouldn't be the only awkward moment. A trapdoor in the floor indicated where they should go down. With a screwdriver you took from your pocket, you began carefully removing the cover. Without any problems, you descended into a Black Widow pose, precise and silent as a feather. Suddenly, you heard a woman's voice in your earpiece.

"Such a poser..."

"How do you know I posed on the way down?"

"It's so obvious of you..."

You smiled, rolling your eyes, and waited for Bob to come down. Unfortunately, he wasn't as flexible as you, and when he tried to descend the duct, his leg got caught and he fell on his face, almost tripping over you.

"Bob!" you whispered in a not so low voice, alarmed

He stood up awkwardly, grabbing your arms for balance. You asked him if he was okay, and he, a bit uncertain, said yes.

"What the hell is that noise?" Yelena asked in your ear.

"It was nothing, a small stumble. Where to now, Yelena?"

The blonde was constantly talking to both of you through the earpiece to guide them through the exact right corridors to the lab. The hallways weren't completely dark; a small, dimly lit bulb hung from their heads, but it wasn't enough to see clearly. When they reached the right door, they saw a coded pattern on the frame. Luckily, the Russian knew the password, and after entering the correct numbers, the door opened with a chilling creak.

If you complained about the dark room, it was worse. There wasn't a single light on. In the pitch darkness, the only thing that provided a glimmer of light were the city lights visible through a large window in the pitch black. You took a flashlight out of your fanny pack and started exploring the place, Bob always clinging to your side like a lost puppy.

"So, what exactly should we look for, again?"

Yelena's metallic voice answered you immediately: "DNA samples, more precisely a vial with a green liquid inside."

Her words weren't very helpful. "Well, that's a bit of a vague answer, don't you think? How big is the vial?"

You could hear her grumbling through the earpiece and you suppressed a chuckle. "Thin, tall, and with a tag that says fragile. Are you happy now?"

"Very much, thank you" you said in a honeyed voice, teasing her

Having understood your mission, the two of you searched all the tables filled with strange vials and syringes containing samples. Bob, who hadn't brought a flashlight, tried not to trip while clumsily groping in the air with his hands like a blind man. Several times he bumped his knee on a table or chair, apologizing every so often. You, for your part, were searching a nearby table, closely looking for that blessed vial. With a triumphant smile, you grabbed the one Yelena had told you about.

"Hey Bob I-!"

Suddenly, a sound of breaking glass startled you. Bob had once again crashed into the table with such force that he had moved it, knocking over several bottles of strange liquids. He was mortally embarrassed and apologized as many times as he could. Sighing in annoyance, you trotted to his side, seeing the mess on the floor.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" he said distressedly

Even in the darkness, you could see his face contorted in a sad, worried expression that broke your heart. You placed both of your hands on his biceps in a motherly manner. "Hey, calm down. It's not your fault. You did really well for your first time." You smiled at him, even though you weren't sure if he could see you.

You didn't want him to feel bad or useless, because it was important to him to help and feel valuable. He seemed to be calmed by the way his body relaxed in your hands.

"Come on, I already found what we were looking for, let's go"

But before the two of you could take a step, a strong smell enveloped you, making you wrinkle your noses. It wasn't an unpleasant smell, but it was very strong and had a slight hint of sulfur. You both looked in surprise at where the jars had broken and noticed the expanding orange puddle. You bent down, and being careful not to cut yourself on the glass, you dipped a finger in the liquid and brought it to your nose. Aside from the sulfur smell, there was a sweetish smell in the background, but you couldn't tell what it was.

"What the fuck is this?" You whispered

"Is it poisonous?" Bob asked worriedly.

"Mmh I don't think so, But I don't like the idea of ​​having inhaled this strange substance either"

You brought your hand to the earpiece and asked "Lena?"

"Yeah? Do you already have the vial?"

"Yes but... Do you have any idea what is manufactured in this laboratory? Or what things they experiment with?"

"I'm not sure, I think with exotic plants or something, but what does it matter, Why?"

"Nevermind, we're coming with you."

You grabbed Bob's hand to walk back the way you had come when you noticed he was suspiciously still, and not only that, his hand was sweating profusely. You wiped your hand, startled, and walked over to him, pointing the flashlight at him.

"Bob what the hel-?!"

In the flashlight, his pale face was slightly pink and sweaty, as if the heater had been turned on. His mouth was half-open, breathing shallowly, and his dilated pupils looked like a black hole. Bob couldn't keep his gaze still, moving from your eye to the other, looking at you as if he were seeing you for the first time. He looked disoriented.

"Oh my God, are you okay?"

You placed a hand on his cheek to check if he had a fever, but when he felt your touch, he flinched with a low moan and quickly pulled away like a frightened animal. You had already noticed that his face was hot anyway. Bob noticed his gesture and said embarrassedly

"Sorry! I- I don't know what's wrong with me, I-I suddenly feel very hot"

How strange, the place seemed quite cool, which contrasted greatly with Bob's skin. You turned around with your hands on your hips, scanning the lab for a thermostat. Your eyes, and his, had already adjusted to the darkness. What you didn't know was that Bob was feeling hot in another sense of the word, and it was evident by the way his eyes blatantly rested on your butt, dressed in that tight suit you decided to wear that day. He knew it was wrong to be nosy, but for some reason, he couldn't tear his gaze away as he nervously played with his fingers and the sleeve of his jacket.

You turned around and he quickly fixed his gaze on your face, you didn't seem to notice anything "Well, it seems there's no thermostat around here, let's go back to the team, they'll know what to do..."

Bob was suspiciously following you, and when the two of you were about to walk out the door, you suddenly stopped dead in your tracks. Your clothes now felt strangely tight and suffocating. You leaned a hand on the wall to steady yourself while you moved your collar aside with a finger. Bob, at your side, asked you what was wrong, and you told him that you were starting to feel hot too. But it wasn't just that suffocating sensation; your mouth also felt a little dry, and the presence of the brown-haired man at your side made your breathing agitated.

"This room has something..." you said breathlessly

You took off your suit jacket to cool off in the heat, leaving on a sleeveless T-shirt while Bob watched you, lightly biting his lip and breathing with his mouth open. You could see it now, in the way he looked at you, with those big, dilated eyes, wanting something from you. You touched your forehead and noticed that it was not only hot but you were also sweating like a pig.

Bob, for his part, imitated you and opened his jacket, though without taking it off yet. He sat on the floor with his back against a closet. You couldn't help but stare at his expression: his face drenched in sweat, his eyes closed, his brow barely raised in a sad expression, and his lips parted as he breathed through his mouth. You looked down at his chest; although he was wearing clothes, his muscles were visible through the fabric, and his chest was rising and falling rhythmically in a slightly accelerated rhythm.

You didn't know why, but seeing him in that state made you salivate slightly, and you began to feel a throbbing in your core. Frightened by the sensation, you squeezed your legs together, your mouth half open. You brought your hand to the receiver just as Yelena was speaking to you.

"Y/n? Y/n! Can you hear me? Where are you?"

You gulped as you turned your gaze to Bob, who was already looking at you, his chin slightly raised and his eyes slightly narrowed. Again, you felt that tingling in your core that made you curl your legs as you brought a hand to your lower abdomen. Why did you suddenly feel so horny? You looked away and tried to maintain your calm breathing.

"Uhh We're still here in the l-lab, something happened... it's hard to explain. I'll c-call you later"

"No wait! what hap-!?"

You hung up before she could finish her sentence, turned off the receiver, threw it away, and gestured for Bob to do the same. He obeyed without question. With great effort, you made your way over to him and sat down next to him, also leaning against the closet. You noticed his breathing become labored as you stood close to him.

"Y/n... what's happening to us?" he said in a whisper

Your name coming from his lips gave you a shiver down your spine, you looked at him out of the corner of your eye, he was watching you.

"I don't know... but this is not a simple fever..."

Your voice sounded broken and desperate. Without realizing it, the hand on your abdomen moved down to your mons pubis, cupping and rubbing the clothed area. You squeezed your eyes shut and frowned. Your fingers wanted to pierce your pants somehow, but they couldn't. Even with your eyes closed, you could feel Bob's penetrating gaze, and you felt self-conscious.

"I'm sorry shit, I don't know what's wrong with me" you said opening your eyes

He swallowed hard. "Don't apologize. I don't feel better either."

He also didn't want to admit that he had an uncontrollable urge to touch himself, especially with you by his side. You looked around, trying to reason with a cool head, but all your mind could think about was cumming right there... or being made to cum. Suddenly, your eyes returned to the rotating bottle of orange liquid. Yelena's words came back to you when you had asked her what they were experimenting with in that lab "exotic plants or something". You realized these annoying symptoms started after inhaling that stupid liquid. And then you understood. You closed your eyes and swore under your breath. You two were fucked up, literally, I mean in the best sense of the word. Everything matched: the fever, dilated pupils, sexual urges. That bottle contained an aphrodisiac.

You pressed your lips together so tightly they formed a thin horizontal line as you glanced at Bob out of the corner of your eye. You didn't know how he would take this new information.

"Uh.. I think I know what's happening to us..." you said in a whisper.

He looked at you impatiently with a hint of hope in his eyes.

"But you're not going to like the answer" you said with a grimace of pain.

"Just say it" His tone of voice was pleading, he seemed like he was going to cry

you gulped "That liquid you dropped...it's an aphrodisiac... you know, a substance that increases.. sexual desire"

The air caught in his throat as he stared at you, mouth agape, in disbelief. You tried not to look at him as you dug your nails into your palm to ward off the urge to touch yourself.

"B-but, wha-what do we do now? How do we cure this?"

"Well we could start by masturbating... that is, ourselves, not each other!"

You felt stupid for clarifying that because you knew your dirty mind had betrayed you. "Relax, I won't look at you. I'll go sit behind that counter."

Before he could say anything, you moved across the floor, crawling like a baby with slow, painful movements. With each movement, you felt your panties stick to your wet, sticky area. Sitting down and hiding behind that table, you wasted no time pulling down the strap of your pants along with your panties. You slid your middle finger down the slit of your wet vagina, biting your lower lip and breathing heavily through your nose. You massaged your clitoris with your finger, applying pressure while moans echoed in your throat, unwilling to let them out. Your middle finger, now curled like a hook, approached your uterus, sinking it in and out slowly. You couldn't help but throw your head back and gasp with your mouth open.

You didn't want to be so loud, but a sound alerted you. Where Bob was, you could hear a kind of sliding against his skin, dirty and desperate. His soft moans accompanied by that pounding were filling you with desire. You thrust another finger inside you more insistently and quickly, rocking your hips in the air. As you lifted your pelvis, you let out pitiful moans that grew in crescendo. You felt your walls throb around your fingers, wrapping them like a blanket. At the same time, you could hear Bob's moans intensifying as his hand moved up and down quickly, and you even thought you heard your name whispered. Your whole body trembled as you felt yourself reaching your climax. You prepared to receive it, your free hand pressed to the floor and your body slightly turned as if you wanted to stand up, your hips wanting to fuck the air with uncontrolled thrusts but keeping pace with your gasps.

You felt a thick, warm liquid on your middle and index fingers, shaking you violently from head to toe. You collapsed on the floor, breathing heavily, letting out moans mixed with groans every now and then. It seemed like Bob came right after you, given the way you heard liquid shooting out like a fountain along with his loud moan. You took a few minutes to catch your breath. The pleasure your orgasm left you with lasted a while, and you seemed a little relieved, but when the sensation disappeared, you realized, horrified, that your skin was heating up again.

"Uhm Bob..? Hey do you feel.. better?"

A few seconds that seemed like hours passed until he answered in a pitiful voice

"Not really, and you?"

"Yeah, me neither"

Panting, you pulled up your underwear and pants and slowly crawled back to his side. Luckily, he had already pulled up his boxers, but you could see his large bulge wanting to come out. Fuck, you wanted to have it in your hands so much. He looked at you desperate and tired; it seemed like that action had drained him dry. The moonlight filtered through the window and bathed the side of his face. He looked so attractive. Had he always seen himself this sexy, or was it the effect of the aphrodisiac? Bob gave you a pleading look, as if only you could save him and give him the relief he needed. You licked your lips before speaking.

"Listen, If we already touched ourselves and it didn't work then there's only one thing left... we have to... well, you know"

You were so embarrassed you couldn't finish your sentence, but you knew he understood from his horrified and worried expression. "Yeah, I know. It's awkward, but what other choice do we have?"

He let out all the air he was holding in his lungs through his mouth, trembling as he did so. He closed his eyes, trying to think, would he have to fuck you? Hell, he hadn't felt this way since his drug days; even that lab reminded him of when he used to sneak in to look for meth. Without thinking, he brought his hand to his crotch and squeezed his erection while gritting his teeth. No, it wasn't appropriate to do so, but was there really no other option?

He turned to look at you "Ugh are there r-really no other options?"

You were breathing with your mouth half open, looking at his bulge with desire, but you tried to concentrate on his face, so you looked up and down. "Bob, really, if you don't fuck me, I feel like I'm going to die..."

Your desperate sincerity left him speechless as he looked at your face wrinkled in a slight grimace of pain. He was just as desperate as you, but he didn't want to ruin this friendship he had with you, although to be fair, it wouldn't be the first time he'd imagined a scene like this. Perhaps this aphrodisiac was just an excuse to finally admit that you drove him crazy. Bob nodded weakly, and you quickly grabbed the elastic of his pants and boxers and yanked them down, drawing a broken moan and gasp from him. You straddled him, pulling down your clothes as well, and aligned yourself perfectly with his member. Bob, feeling your wet entrance squeezing around his erection, dug his nails into your thighs to keep you there.

"Are you ready?"

Bob simply nodded, swallowing loudly, and you lowered yourself onto his cock suddenly, already feeling your walls clench. The sharp pain made you whimper as you squeezed your eyes shut. Shit, you hadn't expected him to be so big and well-endowed.

"Careful, you good?"

You nodded without opening your eyes and gasped, trying to get used to the sensation. When you opened them, you saw Bob looking at you with concern, but behind that, you noticed how his eyes shone with lust. He was simply waiting for your orders or some gesture from you to guide him so he could follow you. You finished removing his open jacket and began desperately kissing his neck. It was more like sucking and nibbling while you moaned and whispered apologies against his skin.

"F-fuck sorry, mmh, I just ah~ couldn't hold on any longer ngh"

Bob said nothing, but he dug his fingers into your hips as he felt your walls throb around his member. Your French kisses ran along the line of his jaw, making him clench it to hold back his moans.

"Gosh, you're divine.."

Your compliments were making him feel like he was on cloud nine, and he dared to massage the flesh of your waist while slightly rolling his eyes. Now your mouth crashed against his lips in a fiery, needy, and open kiss. Your tongue entered his mouth, and he allowed it, feeling the warmth of your saliva. Almost hitting your teeth, you explored every corner of his mouth and lips while he moaned into yours. When you tangled your fingers in his hair and gave it a tug, causing him to throw his head back, Bob moaned your name loudly.

"Shit Bob.. everything is perfect about you" you whispered against his lips between kisses

Bob felt himself melt at your words. One hand was on your lower back, pulling you closer to him, and the other was sliding down to your lower abdomen. With one finger, he probed your bare clit, and you gasped into his mouth. He dared to trace circles, making you stop and press your forehead to his, breathing heavily.

"Omg! F-Don't s-stop!"

His finger played with your button-like slit, ecstatic at how you were coming undone under his touch, lips flushed and parted, eyes half-closed and glassy, ​​you looked perfect. His magical fingers lifted your pelvis, which was already aligned with his erection. The sound that filled the room was so filthy that you were glad the team hadn't come looking for you two yet.

"Damn Y/n, you are so fuck! wet, but I got you"

And he was right, your wetness was so great it acted as a lubricant, and you slid up and down with ease, making a loud chop! chop! Your ass hit his balls with every hard thrust you delivered, causing his face to twitch.

"That's ri-right ah, k-keep going, don't stop!, you.. you're making me feel ngh so good, sweets."

Sweets? Now Bob dared to give you a pet name? There you go. You lost it. You leaned your forehead on his shoulder, sighing between delicious and pleasurable moans. It wasn't just how you were riding him and how he took you so well, as if his member had been made for you, but the fact that he dared to shower you with praise was killing you. Their hot breaths mingled with each other just inches from their faces, sticky sweat clung disgustingly to their hair but all they could focus on was how close they were to reaching another orgasm. Bob was with his hips hitting your G-spot precisely making you scream his name

"Ah! Yes! There!!"

You squeezed your eyes shut as your walls contracted even more, feeling them throb painfully. You were about to come.

"Fuck! You're tight!"

Bob kept talking through his orgasm which turned you on even more.

"Fuckfuckfuck I'm so close! And you feel so fucking g-good. God you're taking me so well mm"

With those last words, you came, followed by him. A sticky, thick, and hot liquid trickled down the inside of your thighs, staining both of your clothes. Bob threw his head back to rest it on the closet door, and you rested your cheek on his shoulder, your head turned toward him. The two of you stayed like that for several long minutes, catching your breath. You no longer felt that intense fever, nor did your skin feel so sensitive to the senses. It seemed that the narcotic effect had finally worn off. You smiled, relieved, closing your eyes. Bob hugged your back with both arms, holding you like a small child about to fall asleep.

"Well... I think the aphrodisiac is already out of our systems."

He sighed tiredly "Yes, I think so too"

You noticed a note of joy in his voice, and you didn't know if he was glad he was no longer under the influence of that substance or because you had just made him cum. Either way, and although you wanted to stay in his arms for a longer time, you decided you should separate because if the team arrived and saw you like this, they would be traumatized for life. You pulled away from his chest, and he kept his eyes on you the whole time, making sure you didn't hurt yourself. When you stood up, you forgot you could still feel your sensitive area, and with a slight shudder, you moaned, startled.

"Slowly, let me help you"

He chivalrously helped you up and even pulled up your clothes before straightening his own pants. They stared at each other for a moment; they were a mess. Their clothes were stained and damp, and their hair was tangled and sticking to their faces from sweat. They smiled, embarrassed and uncomfortable. "We won't tell anyone about this, okay? And then, well, I don't know... maybe someday we can talk about this..." you told him, determined because you had realized your feelings for him. You were surprised when you noticed that he nodded confidently; perhaps the feeling was mutual after all.

You headed for the door, walking uncomfortably because of your soaked underwear, which already felt cold. As you were about to open it, a restless group of people entered through the entrance, accidentally pushing you and causing you to stumble. You would have fallen if Bob hadn't caught you from behind and under your arms before you fell backward to the ground.

"WHAT HAPPENED ARE YOU OK?!" Yelena yelled half worried an half angry

You half-reassured her by telling her that they were both fine now, without explaining what had happened, of course. You gave her the vial they needed, and she seemed satisfied. The others walked around the place inspecting it

"Why the hell did you turn off your earpieces? It took us two hours to find you in this building that looks like a fucking maze" Yelena scolded them.

"sorry about that, it's just that..-"

You were about to make up any excuse when, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Bucky bending down to smell the aphrodisiac orange liquid. Alarmed, you and Bob stopped him by shouting. The man with the metal arm stood up, startled and confused.

"DON'T TOUCH THAT!" you two exclaimed in unison

"Why?! What's wrong with it??"

"Yeah, What do you two know that we don't?" Walker asked

You and Bob cleared your throats and coughed nervously, babbling incoherently, which was impossible to understand because you were talking at the same time. Suddenly, you abruptly fell silent and looked at the team, which didn't understand anything.

"Forget it! We already have what we were looking for, let's go!" You quickly said nervously

You dragged Bob by the hand, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible, while Yelena shrugged, looking at the others to follow you. Everyone did the same, except for John, who stared at the table for a few seconds, wanting to find out why you were acting suspicious. In his search, he found a folder that read:

The concubus is a plant that grows in clusters of three with pointed leaves. Its orange nectar is a strong aphrodisiac that can be obtained by grinding its leaves. The ancients used it as a natural Viagra.

Then John looked down at the floor where the broken jar lay and smiled, understanding everything.

"damn horny dogs..."

And with a broad smile he left the laboratory following the others. He would have enough to bribe those two when they bothered him.

[olgasaysso]

The apothecary diaries made me realize something very interesting about how women perceive power...

I can't be the only one who noticed that in stories written by women power is often compared to a prison or a cage meanwhile in the ones written by men it's mostly fun and freedom.

It is that women tend to see power as more of an responsibility and men think of it as the ability to do whatever they want?

The apothecary diaries made me think of it first. I discovered with surprise that I actually like the emperor, which I almost never do. Any guy that has relationship with more than one woman at once tends to disgust me, especially if he's in a position of power but for some reason not him.

Because the emperor is as much a prisoner as the 2000 women in the rear palace. Maybe even more because as long as he doesn't touch them, they're allowed to leave.

Like on one hand, he's the most powerful man in the empire. He calls the shots, right?

But on the other hand, he can't even properly protect Lishu from being sold to some pedofile by her father. The only way he could protect her was to make her his concubine and how f*cked up is that? She's like a daughter to him and the only way he could protect her was by marrying her? And then he couldn't even spend time with her anymore because that would be read wrong.

It's the fact that 3 of his children died because there was no proper medic to save them due to the fact that they don't allow non eunuchs to treat them and forbid women practicing medicine... when he doesn't even care about that. He hasn't blinked once at Maomao running around the inner palace and being a doctor.

At first when I was watching the story I thought of how horrible it was that he didn't even visit Lady Lihua after their son died. But then it made me think of how he's literally not allowed to get attached because of his position and how hard it is for him? The fact that he couldn't even provide enough support for Lady Ah-Duo so she doesn't lose her uterus? The fact that she switched their baby with his brother and he had to watch his son grow up "away" from him?

There's so much more to this, especially with Jinshis approach to power and I could go on an on but I think I made my point.

And when I started comparing the stories written by women to those by men... Women tend to write power as more of a burden than a gift.

After watching TAD I watched solo leveling.

And for those of you who don't know, it's basically a story about a guy who suddenly "discovers" that he's like a character in a game (not exactly but it's be too long to explain) and basically finds out that he has endless potential and over the course of the story he becomes the most powerful being in the entire universe.

And there's a moment where he's talking to his little sisters friend that gets very misread as something inappropriate by another character.

This other character points out, kindly, to Sung Jinwoo that the girl is a minor.

Sun Jinwoo doesn't understand so he just looks at him and asks "so?".

And so the guy immediately gets scared and never mentions it again despite the two of them being friends.

This moment is kind of played for laughs. Nothing actually happened, Sung Jinwoo is a good guy so he wouldn't.

But he could. Nobody could do anything to stop him.

And when I watched that I laughed too. But then I thought of how terrifying that is. To have someone be so above the law, this untouchable. Who can do anything he pleases because no one will ever stop him.

But that's never actually adressed in the show other than to show us how cool this is.

It this was written by Natsu Hyūga there'd probably be a million different situations to show us how fucked up this is and how it weighs on the main character.

In the apothecary diaries Jinshi doesn't even want to ask anything directly of Maomao because he doesn't want her to interpret it as an order.

[kaysfanficcorner]

The Camgirl and the Millionaire, Part 3

Pairing: Harry Castillo x Camgirl Reader

Summary: Things get more complicated.

Author's Note: Well here we are. I had so much fun writing this chapter and I am incredibly proud of it. These two have captured my heart and I cannot wait to see this little story through to the end. Harry and his camgirl have been the highlight of my summer so far. Thank you for being along for the ride, and please enjoy one of the most explicit things I've written to date.

New note, 6/25: Also, I went back and made one small edit to part 2. In it, Harry said it was June. For the outline I have planned I needed to move things up two months to August, so now I just made Harry make a vague reference to it being summer. You’ll understand when part 4 comes out!

Warnings: Alcohol consumption; Mentions of THC consumption; Cursing; Flirting; Lying, which I assure you hurts to write just as much as it hurts to read; Angst; Fluff; SMUT in the form of unprotected sex, oral, cum eating, anal; A lot of feelings; Reader is thic; Reader is sort of goth; Reader has pierced nipples; Reader is a sex worker; I gave Harry an appendix scar, don't ask me why

18+, Minors DNI

Ao3

*****

Harry can’t quite believe himself, feeling legitimately nervous as he waits for you near the entrance, but still inside the events venue. Women don’t tend to make him nervous, not at this stage of his life at least. Somehow, someway, you make him incredibly nervous. Perhaps it’s because you’re nothing like anyone he’s ever felt attracted to before. With you everything feels strangely different. So different that he let himself go during the concert, not giving a single damn if anyone who he may know was paying any attention to him or not. But now, after coming down from his multiple highs, Harry’s sure he’d overdone it and he’s sure people will be talking come Monday morning. The question is, though, should he really care all that much?

Shortly after you both agreed to get food together, you declared that you needed to use the restroom and grab your things from the employee area in the back. You explained how you and Vanessa were able to get into the event in the first place with the help of that guy, Charles was it? The venue’s owner, evidently. Apparently Vanessa is usually at these events as an employee, which is in all honesty not much of a surprise. It all makes sense. As he stands there thinking about it, the puzzle pieces of how his evening ended up going in this direction have started clicking together. You’re not from this walk of life and you certainly would have never attended this event without the promise of the musical guest. Harry was only able to meet you due to some wild stroke of fate. Or luck. He’s not sure which. 

Harry himself doesn’t care, but your lack of status makes things even more scandalous when he really thinks about it. He knows that his brow must be riddled with worry as you’re approaching him once again, looking much more casual than you had when you walked away. When he really sees you, though, the worry in him fades away. 

 You’ve lost about three inches to the tasteful black Jimmy Choos you’d been wearing, which you’ve now replaced with short ankle-high black socks and a pair of black and white checkered Vans. The classic slip ons, a shoe Harry hasn’t noticed anyone wearing in a long while. He supposes that they are still popular if you’re wearing them, but most of the people he interacts with on a regular basis would not go for skateboarding shoes even in the most dire of circumstances. It’s an intriguing choice, much like the rest of you.

Your hair is back to being drawn up from your neck and shoulders, though the look is much messier than the bun Harry had ruined in the heat of the moment. You’ve got a black sweater slung over your forearm, and the straps of the heels are looped through your index and middle fingers on that same hand. Your free hand comes to rest on his arm as you move in beside him. Somehow being shorter makes you even more adorable to Harry, and he’s once again thanking himself for taking the plunge to enhance his own appearance. Your height difference is exactly what he imagined for himself when the surgery was possibly just a disastrous idea. At his true height the two of you would be nearly eye to eye.

“There you are,” you say with a little grin. “I bid farewell to the lovers back there so I’m good to go when you are. Van says you better not murder me or kidnap me, or she’s gonna come after you. I told her I’d be fine with the latter and she better not try to save me and ruin our good time.”

Harry nearly chokes at the suggestion, the very notion of it shocking, but your giggle at his reaction is enough to calm him. “You really aren’t like other girls,” he says, at a loss for more to say than that. 

“The highest compliment a girl can receive,” you agree, leaning into him slightly.

Harry looks around the room, noticing a few eyes on them, and he’s suddenly wildly ready to leave. His driver should be pulling up any minute, but he hasn’t heard the ding of a text or felt the vibration of a notification in his pocket yet. His eyes narrow a little as he regards you seriously.

“Listen, I want you to know that I don’t normally behave like that when I’ve only just met someone. I don’t know if I’ve ever behaved like that, actually. I apologize if I came on too strong on dancing with you, or singing those crass lyrics.” Harry says this with a self conscious little pit in his stomach. 

A moment ago he felt very confident that dancing with you in such an erotic way had been the right call, but suddenly he’s not so sure. It’s not enough to throw him off his game completely, but thinking back on how sultry the last hour and a half of his life has been, in a very public place, a wave of true embarrassment surges through him. People like Harry aren’t supposed to act like that, at a charity event no less. He finishes the water in another large gulp, mostly as a way to avoid looking at you directly while you respond. He could really use the next liquid he consumes to have an alcohol content. 

The look you send him is clearly one of gratitude. “Harry, you were great. You are great. I appreciate your concern for me, but I truly had the time of my life with you out there. I wouldn’t be standing here right now if you made me uncomfortable. No apology needed.”

What a relief washes over him. “As long as you felt safe and respected,” Harry adds, nodding once.

You’re nodding in return, smiling unfalteringly. “I felt very safe and very respected. A little worshiped, even. Singing those lyrics was absolutely the right call and at your handsiest you were still very respectful. Thank you for being a gentleman. That’s rarer than you may think these days.”

“Mhm, I’m aware that men in general suck,” he agrees, looking around the room nervously again. 

Now that his integrity has been cleared up with you, he’s not so sure it will be for anyone else who was paying attention to him tonight. As Harry glances around, he catches the gaze of a haughty looking blonde woman whom he knows he went out with once, but can’t possibly recall the name of. Cynthia? Cheryl? Something with a C? Harry remembers thinking it was a fitting letter because she’d certainly been a bit of a cunt, the way she’d spoken down to their waitress being enough evidence of that. Someone like her is the antithesis of what Harry wants in a life long partner. 

The unpleasant woman notices Harry looking and frowns deeply at him, clearly still scorned by his rejection. Then she sees you, how closely you’re pressed to him, and she gives you a once over which suggests exactly what she thinks of you. Her eyes land on your worn pair of streetwear shoes for a long moment, and her upper lip curls in an ugly sneer. 

“Some women suck too, though,” he says with distaste, frowning a little. “Wait, that sounds sexist. What I mean to say is: I think most people suck.”

“Sucking as a person encompasses all genders,” you agree.

Your gaze follows his to the woman across the room, and Harry watches your brow raise, but then to his great surprise you blow the woman a kiss and lean into Harry even more as you lift up on your tiptoes to place a chaste peck to his neatly trimmed jaw. He’s certain it was one of his gray patches, and his chest swells a little. Normally he’d be horrified that you just did that, but seeing the other woman huff and walk off strikes a chord within him and that warmth he felt spreading through him earlier on in the evening comes back. 

What a curious feeling. 

Once you’ve clearly had your fun you ignore the woman completely, looking back at Harry with a sugary sweet smile on your lips as you rub your bare shoulder into his upper arm. “I may have some money compared to most but I’m not one of these stuffy broads. Maybe I’m wrong with this read, but I don’t think you would be hanging out with me if I was.”

“You’re not wrong,” Harry breathes, pleased to know that you’re actually seeing him. That feels new for some reason. “I have a feeling that people like her are going to talk, because we definitely gave them something to talk about…” he trails off, a smile creeping onto his lips as he remembers how your body fit against his so well. 

“See, that’s the spirit! We had fun, so fuck those other people. And your reputation is safe with me. I’m not going to run off and tell the ‘who’s who’ that Harry Castillo is an incredibly sexy dancer. Or that his hands were all over me and it was the most amazing I've felt in another’s company since I can’t remember when. Or that his lips are addictive. I won’t even say that he’s quite handsome. Very bite-able.” 

As you say that last bit, you’re leaning over to gently nibble at his shoulder through the white dress shirt. Harry could care less that you probably just stained it red with rouge. He’s never met a girl who wants to openly gnaw on him before, and his stomach flutters in response to it. 

Harry’s shaking his head, wanting to reassure you that he wasn’t thinking about you like that. “It’s not you I’m worried about when it comes to my reputation, it’s the rest of these sharks. I’m sure at least one of them caught a whiff of blood in the water.”

You grin widely, laughing. “Yeah, well, my favorite character in Jaws is Captain Quint, so let the bastards try and take a chomp at you while I’m around.”

His left brow raises curiously. “Doesn’t the captain get eaten by the shark at the end of that movie?”

“That’s neither here nor there, but if it would make you feel better I’ll change my favorite to Sheriff Brody,” you giggle, then you change the subject. “Is our ride here yet?”

At that moment, Harry feels a vibration against his right thigh a barely audible ding goes off. “Actually, I think it is.”

*****

Harry links arms with you as the two of you descend the stairs leading down to the sidewalk, and the feeling of guilt slowly eating away at your gut gets a little worse. You really like this guy, and starting things out with a lie feels like it’s suddenly a huge mistake. But what if you come clean and he ends the night before you’re ready for it to end? Isn’t it best to see the rest of this night through and then see where things go with him after that? There’s still a good chance that he’ll disappear from your life after tonight and then you will have embarrassed yourself for no reason. And, again, it’s not that you’re embarrassed about your profession, but you’re starting to feel embarrassed for being a liar and a coward. That stings a lot, especially when the spark you’re experiencing with Harry feels like it's not nothing. 

Apparently you got so lost feeling guilty and anxious just now, that you completely missed the fact that you and Harry have made it down to the crowded curb. As well as the fact that your favorite musician is no less than twenty feet away as he gets ready to climb into his limo, surely off to some club or afterparty. You also hadn’t realized that you've been staring directly at the handsome celebrity, or that you’re wearing a displeased look on your face, until Harry looks at you with an expression of worry on his own.

What Harry doesn’t realize is that you’re deeply displeased with yourself at this moment, but he must think it has something to do with him. He seems a little self conscious as he looks over at the famous man climbing into the white stretch, frowning as his chocolate eyes meet yours once more. “You know, I can probably find out what party he’s going to.”

Your eyes widen, shocked that he thinks you’re worried about that . “I didn’t even notice him, Harry. I was distracted by something else.” 

“What is it? You seem upset all of the sudden.”

This is it. Your chance to tell the truth. Do it, do it, do i-

“The heels killed my feet,” you lie, adding a wince for effect, though your feet really do ache.

  Apparently lying is just your fucking thing now, you think, shame filling you for a moment. Coward.

“ Oh ,” he looks utterly relieved, and you can’t help but wonder how he can be so confident at one moment and almost vulnerable at the next. It makes you wonder if he’s been a little deprived of certain things emotionally in his life, thinking that makes two of you if it’s an accurate read. 

Just then a sleek black car pulls up behind the leaving limo, and Harry’s opening the door to the back seat for you. “Let’s keep those feet off the ground, then”

“Are you planning to sweep me off of them, Harry?” You flirt effortlessly, feeling a sense of calm wash over you again when he grins handsomely in response, fingers slipping in between yours. That’s it, just get your groove back.

“If you’ll let me,” Harry says, the air of if completely honest. 

As he guides you down into the leather seat, your hands remain joined. He leans down to kiss your knuckles once before letting your hand fall down into your lap. Then the door shuts, and a moment later the door on the other side opens. You’re grinning at him as he slides in beside you. Literally right beside you, not just in the other seat. He’s even using that weird middle seatbelt that no one likes, body pressed closely to yours as you buckle yourself in too. 

*****

Soon the two of you are instead seated across from one another in a twenty-four seven diner splitting a whole cheesesteak and a couple of cheap beers. Both of you remark that neither of you really eats food like this anymore, and that you’ll both regret it when you feel like shit the next day. But damn does it taste amazing. It also helps that you both took some generous hits on the dab pen again before entering the restaurant, making the greasy subs all the more alluring. 

You’re grinning at him between bites and sips, practically moaning. “I’m so glad that they put cheese wiz on this the real Philly way. Fuck, I’m in heaven.”

He nods in agreement, chewing a hefty chomp of his own. “This is very delicious, which means it could definitely kill me. Are you from the Philadelphia area, then?”

“No, the Baltimore area. A dinky town outside of the city. Close enough to Philly, though. I still know a good cheesesteak when I taste one. I just know a good crabcake better.”

“I knew your accent was from one of the two. Philly didn’t feel right though.” 

You smirk, “It’s the weird ‘o’ thing we do, isn’t it? I’ve never been able to shake that.”

Harry shrugs into another bite of his sandwich. “I think it’s cute.”

Downing the rest of your beer, you’re blushing as you tell him, “Well I like your voice a lot. It’s handsome and smooth, like rich caramel in my ears.”

Harry snorts into his own beer, shaking his head with a cartoonish grimace. “Caramel in your ears doesn’t sound pleasant. Come on, Miss author . Is that the sexiest thing you could come up with?” 

“It sounded like a good phrase in my head,” you’re forcing yourself to laugh, ignoring the sick jolt of anxiety he just caused. There are a few bites of cheesesteak left on your plate, but your appetite is long gone.

Harry seems to notice how fake it sounds, frowning. “You know what? I’m going to quit teasing you about that. We don’t have to talk about your writing unless you bring it up. That was rude of me. Shit . I’m not doing a very good job of earning that trust we talked about, am I?”

Deflect, deflect, deflect. Be fucking cool about it. “It’s okay. I’m not that upset. I’ll admit that wasn’t one of my better turns of phrase, but I can’t help it that amber is the color of your energy, Harry.” Joking as an attempt to re-lighten the mood, you’re grinning when he makes a scrunched face at the reference. But then that lovely face of his morphs into a relieved smile, and your anxiety settles.

“You’re too funny,” he chuckles. “I like your sense of humor. It’s refreshing.”

With a fake scoff, you’re feigning surprise. “You mean to tell me that blondie from the venue back there wasn’t a funny person? I never would have guessed.”

“Shocking, I know,” he agrees, grin handsome as ever. 

A wave of emotion rolls over you when you take a moment to really look at his face, at how beautiful he is and how lucky you feel to be here with him in this moment. The need to speak from the heart strikes you, and you let yourself go a little. “I’m having a really good time with you tonight, Harry. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think meeting you is the thing I’ll cherish more than the actual concert.”

“I feel similarly,” Harry says, reaching a hand across the table for you. You slip yours into his easily, and he gives a gentle squeeze. “Do you want me to take you home to your place after this?” Harry asks, eyes darkening a little as he waits for your answer. He looks both nervous and hopeful.

You reply honestly, “If I say no, that I’d like to go home with you instead, will you think I’m an easy slut? I don’t make a habit of going home with strange men, usually.”

Harry shakes his head fervently, laughing. “If anything I’m worried that you think I’m an easy slut. I typically go on a couple of dates before I bring someone home. I’m not twenty-five anymore.”

“Me neither. I can’t explain it, but this feels different for me. You feel different. You keep saying I’m not like most girls, but you’re not like most guys. Do things feel different for you tonight, Harry?”

He nods, “They do. You’re more than welcome to come home with me, if it’s truly what you want.”

“It’s what I want,” you say honestly, scared of what telling the truth in this regard means considering how much you’ve lied about everything else. Every time you’ve had the opportunity to come clean before it’s too late, fear has halted your mouth. Nothing’s stopping your wicked, traitorous tongue this time around, though.

“I like you a lot, Harry.” Confessing this with real emotion behind your words, you’re willingly making this more complicated. It’s as if you’re suddenly uncaring of the consequences you may eventually face for it, stepping blindly into a situation that simply can’t end well because you have to see where it goes regardless. You desperately need Harry Castillo to know exactly what he does to you, and for you to understand what you do to him. You need it more than you need to breathe. 

“I like you too,” Harry agrees, smiling at you genuinely as he wipes his hands and discards with his napkin on the empty plate. He downs the rest of his beer, eyes darkening as the slice of lime slides down the neck of the bottle with the final drops of golden liquid. The way he looks at you feels almost predatory for a moment, like he’s deciding when to pounce. 

“Now, tell me,” he says your name, letting it melt ever so slowly on his stupidly alluring tongue, “if this were one of your stories, what would happen next when we finally establish that the two main characters like each other?"

*****

Harry’s tongue is buried so deeply in your cunt that the end of his broad nose is simultaneously and unceremoniously kneading into the sensitive, swollen nub begging for attention just above your wanting slit. It occurs to you that you very well could get off from his nose if he keeps this up any longer but just when you think that, his appendages disappear, and the airy chill on your soaked mound is enough to sober you up a little. You’ve half a mind to complain that he stopped, beginning to prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. 

But then there’s a swift, nonpainful swat to your inner left thigh.

“Lay back down,” Harry commands, growling in a voice dripping with a dominating tone that could send you off to the other side if you let it. “Nowhere near done tasting you yet.” 

 You’re on the kitchen island in Harry’s insanely lavish apartment, the skirt of your red dress pushed up over your waist to expose the lower half of you. Your black thong is hanging from the faucet on the kitchen sink, where it landed perfectly when Harry threw it behind his head without looking. You’d wanted to laugh at the bullseye, but Harry’s determination to get between your legs stopped you from being silly. Instead, you let him spread you, wailing and moaning as he proceeded to eat you out better than you’ve ever had it in your entire life. That you can confidently say, and you’ve had a handful of mouths bring pleasure to your body over the years.

Harry’s a pro beyond pros, knowing every little nuance to a woman’s most sacred of needs. 

He proves that when you follow his orders, laying back down to give him full access. His tongue runs from the base of your slit slowly up to your aching clit, stopping to swirl around it a few times before suckling lightly. Then he stops abruptly, repeating the entire pattern all over again. Each time he shows extra attention to your engorged nub, your body heats up even more and the cries of elation spewing from your wanton mouth echo through the apartment’s high ceilings.

Harry Castillo is secretly a madman, you’re sure of it, and his sexual vigor is right up your alley. The man is still fully dressed. You have no idea what his dick looks like, or the rest of that surely inviting body, and he hasn’t even seen your tits yet. They are still firmly secured in the bodice of your dress. 

Upon entering the apartment, Harry told you that if he didn’t get a taste of your pussy before the two of you did anything else, then he was liable to explode. 

Hearing him say that as he effortlessly lifted your ass up onto the gorgeously finished wood countertop? That made you start to fall for Harry Castillo before he ever put his mouth to your flesh. 

“Been thinking about this all night, sweetheart. Ever since we danced,” Harry says into your folds, hot breath and facial hair causing your back to arch in anticipation. He’s practically nuzzling your vagina with his entire face, spreading your wetness and his own saliva all over himself. You keep yourself neatly trimmed and waxed at all times thanks to your secret profession, and Harry seems to appreciate this immensely. “It’s even better than I imagined. So pretty and soft and wet for me, aren’t you?”

“All for you,” you breathe, pushing your hips forward to try and coax his mouth back onto you. “ Please , Harry,” you’re begging, voice husky and needy, “I was about to cum before you stopped.”

The chuckle Harry lets out is low and handsome, nearly sending you over the edge with the very sound of it. You feel his hands grip your thighs, spreading them even more. Then his tongue starts trailing each of your labia majora, one after the other. 

“I’m well aware of that, sweetheart. I just wasn’t ready for you to cum yet.” A kiss to your inner thigh. “Soon, though, I promise. Just be patient for a little longer.” A kiss to the opposite thigh. “Let me take care of you how you deserve to be taken care of.”

Then, without warning, two of his thick fingers enter you at once. They wiggle about a few times, getting fully coated in your fluids, and then he’s pumping slowly.

Wide-eyed, your head tilts up so you can look to where he’s seated between your legs on the footstool he’d pulled up when this encounter began. “ Harry ,” you breathe.

“Yes?” He asks, grinning devilishly up at you.

“You’re amazing,” you say dreamily, grinning widely to yourself as your head lay back down. 

Soon your orgasm is steadily building again, core tingling from the combination of his fingers curling sharply into your g-spot, and the darting flicks from left to right of Harry’s expert tongue. This time he doesn’t deny you, boring into your clit with more intensity as a third finger finds your entrance.

“Let go for me, sweetheart. Show me what you can do,” Harry coos lasciviously, then digs into his meal with a ferocity which finally tips you all the way over the edge.

Grunting and shaking, your body convulses with your hands braced against the countertop. It’s as if you’re trying to push all of yourself into Harry as the orgasm rocks through you, and then suddenly everything feels too sensitive and you’re hissing at him to lay off a little bit. 

He does, and as you breathe heavily in the aftermath of your bliss, he trails kisses all over your stomach before laying his head down on your belly button. Hands shakily prying themselves from the wood, you snake them into Harry’s soft brown hair and begin to comb your fingers through it. 

“You were so lovely,” he remarks, voice almost dreamy. “You came so beautifully for me, sweetheart.”

Your own voice sounds throaty, almost foreign to yourself. This isn’t like the fake voice you put on for work, this is real sexual tranquility. “Thank you, Harry. That might be my best orgasm to date. Not joking. I’ve received oral from a handful of people and I’ve never felt anything remotely close to what you just did."

“Well I will always try to ensure that your next one is still your best to date, then.” 

Fuck. He’s talking like this isn’t going to be a one night thing. And after the tonguing of a lifetime, you know you don’t want it to be either. You’re so royally fucked, and he hasn’t even actually fucked you yet.

Realizing this, you begin to sit up a little, causing Harry to lift up from your belly and look at you curiously. So you quickly explain, “I need you, Harry. All of you.” 

Harry stands, lifting you to sit up more with your ass sliding off the edge of the counter. He’ll have to clean that massive wet spot in the morning, but you pay that little mind as your bare feet touch the cool ground. Your knees begin to give out as your skirt falls to rest below them. Harry catches you easily as you wobble into him with a soft moan, and then without a word he’s sweeping you up into his arms bridal style. You’re a little nervous, given that you’re a few jean sizes up from someone like Vanessa, but he’s kissing you on the forehead as he easily carries you from the kitchen to the master bedroom with little strain.

There he lays you down on a bed of white satin, a bed so ridiculously huge that you can’t help but giggle at how tiny you feel laying in the center of it. 

Harry’s unbuttoning his shirt, smiling down at you fondly. “What’s funny?”

You’re shaking your head, laughing. “This bed is ginormous, Harry, and I haven’t called something ginormous since I was a kid. But it’s an appropriate adjective, this thing is cartoonishly big.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” He asks, smirking. His shirt is gone, now his undershirt. The body hidden beneath is one well maintained with diet and exercise, defined lean muscle tone showing you as much. Naturally tan, with dark body hair and an appendix scar, he looks so utterly beautiful to you. His hands are going for his belt, and suddenly you’re up on your knees, scooting forward towards the edge of the mattress. “Wait, please let me,” you ask sweetly, hands already reaching for the black leather strap and silver buckle as Harry’s hands instead move to find the zipper leading down the right side of your red dress. 

As you unbuckle him and slide the belt from its loops, discarding the thing to the side, Harry is simultaneously unzipping you. He lifts the fabric, tugging upwards, and your arms lift to accommodate the rising garment as it’s peeled from your body. Harry, aware of how nice the dress is, gently hangs it over the back of the stylish black accent chair across the room. As he turns to really take in your fully nude appearance, a warm smile so sweet crosses his features. There’s lust in the expression, sure, but his eyes wash over you several times and each time it looks as if he’s almost overwhelmed by what he sees. 

“I’ve never seen pierced nipples in real life before,” he remarks, mesmerized by them as he leans forward to cup both breasts in his hands. The pad of each thumb runs gently over the black barbells, stimulating the raised nubs of flesh nestled between. 

For a moment you’re self-conscious about them, frowning a little. “Are they too much? Ex-goth girl, remember? They’re a relic of the past, but I loved them too much to get rid of them. The lip and the eyebrow had to go, though.”

Shaking his head, Harry frowns a little too. “Please don’t be embarrassed. I love them. It’s just a little new for me, that’s all. Will I hurt you if I play with them?”

Relieved, you smile at him with a shake of the head. “No, as long as you’re careful not to yank too hard, obviously.”

Harry takes that as permission to dive in, and both his hands and his mouth spend a good few moments ravishing your ample breasts. Squeezing, pinching, licking, biting. 

“You’re so lovely,” Harry says your name, “what a prize you are. Though, I don’t entirely know what I did to win.” 

“As if you’re not a prize too,” you say, rolling your eyes a little as finally he moves his crotch back within reach. You make quick work of undoing his trousers, and then he helps you yank them down his legs, stepping out of them. Gripping the elastic waistband of his black boxer briefs, your movements are slow and deliberate as you pull down and forward. The trail of dark hair below his belly button is growing wider and thicker by the inch, trimmed neatly but still prominent. Slowly the base of him becomes visible, and then in one swift move his erection is springing free. 

A little gasp escapes your lips at the sight of him, not only pleased to see his foreskin still intact but truly shocked by his size. You’re not entirely sure how long he is, certainly long enough, but the massive girth of him is really what makes your mouth water. The anticipation of that thing stretching your walls is enough to make your core heat up again, ready for round two. 

“You like him?” Harry asks, smiling down at you as one of his hands strokes your hair. 

“I love him,” you agree, licking your lips as you lean forward to take him into your hand. Harry moans, hips bucking slightly. Having worked with an uncircumcised cock before, you know how to grip him and gently pull downwards, unveiling his swollen head and the delicious little bud of precum waiting for you. “Now this is a prize. You even get to unwrap it,” you say with a flirtatious giggle, adding, “and dare I say it's ginormous . There I go using that word twice in one night.”

When your tongue flicks out to lick that offered drop, Harry’s whole being seems to melt into you a little. Grinning, you widen and slowly take him into your mouth. Adding a little bit of pressure and suction, you slowly begin to work him in and out as the hand gripping him continues its rhythmic pumping. The little whimpers he’s making for you are music to your ears. 

“Oh shit , sweetheart, you’re doing great, keep going,” Harry’s encouraging, both hands in your hair now as his eyes slip closed and he throws his head back a little. “ Fuck .”

You’re gagging, trying your best to fit all of him down your throat as a bit of drool dribbles down your chin, when suddenly he’s stopping you. He’s pulled out and he’s trying to push you to lay down. He even leans down to lick at one of your pierced nipples, his hand resting between your breasts as he pushes. 

“Wait, I wasn’t done yet,” you pout, reaching for him again. 

Harry growls, a primal noise from a refined man such as he, and he’s urging you backwards onto the white bed more. As you lay out below him and the gorgeous man is crawling between your legs, they instinctively bend and come to wrap around his hips a little. Your hands come to rest in the middle of his back, fingers gripping in anticipation of what’s to come. Then you feel the tip of his cock pressing into your entrance and, still slick from Harry’s treatment of you in the kitchen, your cunt welcomes him into your body easily. 

A great cry escapes you as the width of his cock stretches you out considerably, the line of pain and pleasure blurred as your walls clench and squeeze, half trying to accommodate him and half trying to expel the painful intrusion. 

Three slow, gentle pumps are all it takes for Harry to enter you all the way to the hilt, and when his tip presses painfully into your cervix, the moan you let out is quite guttural. 

Then his lips are on yours, and your legs are hooking behind him at the ankles as he really begins to pound into you. His hands come to your ass, sliding below each cheek. With the leverage this gives him, Harry lifts your hips from the mattress completely. Thrust after thrust he’s relentless, and another orgasm is already starting to build deep within your needy core. 

“You’re going to make me cum again,” you whine between heavy breaths. Head lifting up to bite into his bicep, the need to cling to him for dear life has taken over completely. The only thing you have left to grab him with is your teeth, and so you do.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Harry’s mouth is against your ear saying, “taking me so well like a good girl. I was right when I sang that to you earlier; Little pussy fits my dick so perfectly.” He pulls your ear lobe into his mouth, nibbling on the soft flesh as you writhe and whine for him. “You’re going to cum again, this time with my cock buried all the way inside you, sweetheart. Need to feel you contract around me. Then, if you’ll let me, I’m going to fill you up with mine.” 

Fearful, you practically start to push him off of you, terrified of the consequences if he were to cum in you. “I’m not on the pill! Or anything!” 

He stops thrusting for a moment, looking down at you seriously as he brushes hair from your eyes and kisses your forehead. “I had a vasectomy a few years ago. It was my forty-fifth birthday present to myself when I decided I definitely don’t want kids.” After he says that, he begins to slowly gyrate his hips into yours again, and you’re lifting to meet his movements in tandem. 

Then you kiss him with everything you’ve got. 

“ Fuck, Harry ,” you moan, “I think you might actually be fucking perfect for me.”

And with that, he fucks you until you’re practically braindead, completely stupified by his cock. You ride him a little, and then he’s on his knees taking you from behind off the edge of the bed. For a moment he migrates things to the bathroom, where he props you up on the sink and pounds into you standing up. 

Then it's back to the bed with your legs straight up his body, crossed ankles resting on his right shoulder. He’s holding them in place with his right hand, and his left is gripping into your thigh so hard you’re sure to have five small bruises where his fingers are indented into your smooth, damp skin. Harry’s done an expert job of edging you once more, changing positions each time you start to get close, his own stamina and restraint a marvel. It’s starting up again, though, and this time he’s not stopping to switch things around. 

“Close again, Harry,” you spout out through thick moans, a small part of you wanting him to prolong this more even though the rest of you is screaming in agony for release. 

“Go ahead,” he says sweetly, smiling as he kisses your calf and looks you right in the eyes. “Let me see that face while you cum for me. You look so beautiful stuffed with my cock, sweetheart. Show me .” 

Then he bites down on the same spot he just kissed, and your second orgasm overcomes you. Your muscles clench around him so hard, clinging to the very thing causing them to do so. Harry lets out a gorgeous sounding moan, leaning more of his weight into your legs as the pleasure of it seems to take hold of him. 

He’s parting your legs as you come down, twitching against him as he readjusts into a more basic missionary position. Your arms come to wrap around his neck, just as your legs move to wrap around his waist. Shortly after that, Harry’s own grunting cries of culminating ecstasy are ringing throughout the high ceilings of the bedroom. He’s convulsing against you and you’re instinctively cradling his head, peppering his cheeks and forehead with little kisses to guide him through it. A few more gentle pumps and he’s eventually sliding out of you with a great sigh. There’s almost instantly a distinct leaking sensation running down the crack of your ass. 

He’s kissing your forehead, then looking right into your eyes as he gets comfortable beside you. “You okay?”

“I’m great. How are you?

“I’m perfect, sweetheart. Just perfect.”

“Your body felt so good, Harry,” you’re sputtering out, grunting as your own body is again twitching in a brief aftershock of sexual bliss. “Everything felt so good.” 

Harry is nodding in agreement, looking up at the ceiling with this handsome little grin playing at the corner of his mouth. Shaking his head, his eyes are filled with wonder as if looking up at a star splattered night sky. He looks so youthful to you at that moment, de-aged ten years for a split second. “I haven’t had sex that great in- Fuck . I don’t know if I’ve ever had sex that great, and I thought I was having great sex pretty regularly. You’ve single handedly and irrevocably changed my life tonight. I hope you know that.”

You’re also looking up at the ceiling, deep breaths causing your breasts to rise and fall. What Harry just said is so true that it almost hurts to realize it. Things have changed, feeling suddenly like so much more than the one night stand you’d been anticipating. It doesn’t seem like the high endorphins is making you think this way, though. You’re well aware of what that feels like. Something about this night with Harry Castillo feels real. More real than anything you’ve ever felt with another. “Same goes for you, handsome. Ruined all other men for me in a single night together. It’s practically criminal.”

As you look over at Harry, his hair mussed and face flushed, a blush creeps into your cheeks at the notion that the wetness you feel running down you is actually him . Allowing him to finish inside was a genuinely new experience for you, and the thrill if it is so unlike what you were expecting. If anything you assumed it was going to feel gross. Cum always equalled babies in your book, so you never thought it would ever feel this amazing to know some of it is buried deep inside you and the rest of it is dripping onto the bed below. To know it’s the cum of this man in particular? That adds an extra layer to the feeling. 

It felt so different to embrace your lover in the heat of his orgasm, being so used to the empty, cold sensation of a pull-out and the inevitable warm spray to some other part of your body. There’s always been this sudden disconnect right before the moment of a man’s climax, but with Harry you got to ride it out with him, completely connected all the way up until the end. Connected in a way you never have been before, not even with a female partner. The notion of this stirs something deep within you, and your heart swells for the man placing kisses to your shoulder while he’s catching his breath. 

The most satisfying peacefulness washes over you as you tell him, “I’ve never let anyone cum inside me before.”

His brown eyes darken slightly, and Harry looks both surprised and a little pleased with himself. “Really?”

“Really,” you’re grinning, “I don’t want kids, so that shit was always very off limits. I’m not sure how to explain it in a way that you would understand, but that was very special for me. Thank you, Harry.” 

He leans over, grinning like a madman before kissing you passionately. “It was an honor to fill you up, sweetheart. I’d do that every single day if you’d let me.” 

*****

You and Harry ended up spending the entire weekend together against your better judgement. The longer time you spent in his company, the more the stupid fucking lie was hanging over your head. But your weekend with Harry proved to be downright magical, and the more the two of you got to know each other, the less easy it started to feel to come clean. You thought about doing it so many times, and each time your anxiety would stop you. What if he truly hates you after he learns the truth? He might not, you never know. But even after so many long talks and lovely sex and shared laughter, the truth is inevitably going to change the way he looks at you. The very thought of that sends your nervous system into an overload, and strikes a deep crack through your already straining heart.

Harry Castillo makes you feel the way the romantic novels that you most certainly do not write make you feel, and your greedy ass wasn’t about to go and fuck up what was turning out to be the best seventy-two hours of your life thus far. Morally gray as it may be, Harry could know the truth after your beautiful weekend together. You felt that you deserved at least that before you light the fuse that will blow this situation to hell whether you want it to or not. 

It’s as if you’re using your budding feelings for Harry to bargain with yourself for victory, but either way you’re liable to lose and deep down you know that.

The charity concert was on a Friday, so when the two of you woke up late into the morning on Saturday, Harry asked you if you wanted to stay for a while. He’d already taken the liberty of having his assistant drive over with a few different outfit options for you, and one swimsuit. All correct sizes, and all something you would have picked out for yourself, which gained Harry even more points in your book.  

‘A while’ started with french pressed coffee and a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs and avocado toast, all made by Harry himself. Then ‘a while’ progressed into having sex again, this time on the living room couch, then once more on top of his washing machine after he’d started a load of laundry. You’d joked about how you could use another load too, and Harry ran with it. He ate his own cum out you while the machine whirled to life under your body, just before filling you up with even more of him. 

After that, the two of you went down to the lavish pool in Harry’s building. An over the top extravagant amenity with a gorgeous view of the city, and probably the nicest pool you’ve ever had the pleasure of swimming in. Once the two of you started to horseplay, however, things very quickly took a turn for the sexual once again. Harry’s finger had slipped inside of your tastefully high-waisted bathing suit under the water, and when his hidden erection pressed up against your bare leg, the pool was a thing of the past. 

That time he fucked you in his shower, bent over at the waist as hot water cascaded around your already enflamed body. When you begged him to take your ass in lue of your pussy, the man in question had moaned into your shoulder, “you’re a dream come true, sweetheart,” and he delivered what you asked for beautifully.

His assistant also brought you a small handful of basic beauty products to choose from. As you were later lathering on a serum nicer than any brand you’ve ever bought, even with your recently raised standards, it dawned on you that Harry probably spent at least five or six hundred dollars, if not more, on all of these things for you. That kind of casual spending, on you no less, made your head spin a little. 

You may pamper yourself all the time, but it’s wildly different when a man like Harry Castillo is the one doing the pampering.

In the evening Harry ordered takeout from his favorite place in Chinatown, and given that the both of you didn’t have a single bodily fluid left to give, the night was filled with conversation, snuggles, and soft touches. He let you pick out a movie, and the two of you fell asleep spooning on his couch (also ginormous, by the way) halfway through Bram Stoker’s Dracula from 1993.

On Sunday, after breakfast and one more go around in the oversized bed, Harry took you to the Central Park Zoo. His almost boyish energy around all of the animals was so endearing to you, especially when he lit up for you around the bats. Given that the winged animals played an integral role in the events which led to your dalliance with Harry, he felt the need to commemorate the weekend by purchasing you a stuffed one from the gift shop. You never even saw him go for the register, preoccupied by a rack of silly t-shirts. So when he presented it to you upon exiting, you’d thrown your arms around his neck and kissed him right there in the middle of central park. All the while your mind was screaming at you to tell him the truth, but you listened to your body instead. 

From there he took you to a ridiculously nice Italian restaurant, where he confessed to you over pasta that he’s never been in love and he’s scared that he never will be. That confession had shocked you, even more so when he quickly followed it up with a warning that if you said yes to what he was about to ask, then you were taking on the risk that he’s incapable of the feeling all together. The notion of him being incapable seemed silly, considering how affectionate he’d been with you thus far, but you kept that thought to yourself. 

Then Harry reached across the table, and the next confession came pouring out of him. He told you that he wanted to try to feel love, and he felt something with you that he honestly hadn’t before. Not love, not when you barely know each other, but that spark that they talk about in the movies. One little spark, but enough to grab his attention and hold it fast. 

After making your head spin with his honesty, he proceeded to say that the last couple of days truly meant a lot to him and, with the deepest sincerity in his chocolate eyes, Harry Castillo asked if you would let him see you again. Seriously, and exclusively. 

Your answer was the easiest one to give in the world, and yet instead of shining bright like the sun as it should have been, your heart suddenly felt much more like the moon hanging ominously over the city. While the front facing side of your heart swelled a bright, glorious red for the possibility of a relationship with this man, the side cast in shadow was already starting to shrivel and turn gray with guilt. 

*****

As you finish frantically pacing the floor and vividly telling a couch faring Vanessa everything about your weekend with Harry, sparing her the gorier sexual details, your stomach lurches and your heart sinks. While you’ve been wildly wrapping up the story, a great, ugly scowl has been slowly encompassing her normally beautiful features. There’s no hiding from your best friend, that’s just a fact. 

“Listen, I know what you’re going to say,” you try to diffuse, hands up.

“Listen my ass ,” she says your name sharply, stabbing you right where she wants to. 

You wince .

“I’m glad that got your attention, bitch.” With that, Vanessa pats the cushion beside her. “Sit down, your energy is stressing me the fuck out .”

“Sorry,” you say, complying.

“We are both grown-ups here, so I’m going to speak plainly.” Vanessa bores into you with her dark eyes, making your throat seize up. “You know what you need to do, or you’re going to fuck up what is potentially the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“I know,” you breathe, frowning. “I’m going to have to finish one of my novels and get it published."

Vanessa groans ferociously, hands clawing over her face. Then she whacks you in the head with a pink throw pillow. “No, you stupid slut! Tell him the fucking truth! If you let this go on too long the damage will be too severe to repair.”

“Yeah, I know that,” you say, hanging your head. You’re going to have to hit the bong several times in order to sleep tonight, the horrid pit in your stomach will make sure of that. “Fuck, Van. I really am stupid aren’t I?”

“You are. But I love you, and maybe if you handle this situation correctly then Daddy Warbucks will love you too,” she says, grinning a little as she uses the silly nickname. You can already tell she’s going to drive that into the grave with over-use. 

Her change in mood warms you, and the anxiety melts away a little. Feeling more like yourself, you send her one of your signature, Vanessa exclusive eyerolls. “Are we really going to call him that?”

“If you’re really going to date him I am,” Vanessa giggles. 

“What if he really can’t feel love, Van?” You ask her, frowning. 

Vanessa shrugs. “If that’s even a real thing. Sounds to me like he just hasn’t been in real love yet, not that he simply can’t feel it. But if it is true, then at least he was an interesting chapter of your life and a good lay. Date him for a few weeks before you worry about that, anyway. What if you’re the one who doesn’t end up loving him?”

As she says this, your phone buzzes against the coffee table. Reaching over to grab it, your eyes bulge a little at the name associated with the text notification. He just dropped you off a few hours ago, surely you’d assumed it would be a few days before you heard from him again. But here he is, making your heart flutter from the other side of the city. 

Harry Castillo: Two nights with you beside me and I’m spoiled rotten. You were right. This bed is ginormous. Sleep well, sweetheart. 

“I think he’s going to make not loving him incredibly difficult, Vanessa.”

*****

Monday morning Harry’s seated in his office doing the complete opposite of working. He’s on his phone, which makes him a hypocrite considering he recently instructed the management team to start cracking down on that with the associate employees. 

He simply can’t help it. You’re literally all he can think about, to the point that he’s a little worried that something is wrong with him. You’d responded to his text last night, but you haven’t said anything to him since and he’s fixating on whether or not it’s appropriate to text you again so soon if you haven’t texted him first.

Fucking cellphones, Harry thinks bitterly, chiding himself for behaving like a teenager as he sits the phone face down on the glass top protecting his cherry desk. He looks at his computer, opens an email, reads the first three words of the subject line, and then he’s picking up his phone again to check it despite the fact that he knows it hasn't gone off.

Nothing. He groans, feeling like an idiot as he reaches for a sip of coffee. He doesn’t put the phone back down, though, instead he pulls up his camera roll and the couple of photos of you he snuck over the weekend. 

The first is of you, in nothing but one of his black t-shirts and a lacy black thong, your back mostly to the camera as you sip on a mug of creamy coffee. You’re looking contently at the view from Harry’s kitchen window, sunlight streaming all over you. He loves your profile in that one, and the way the light accentuates your features. 

The next is a photo of your naked silhouette in the frosted glass of his shower. 

The third photo is of you at the zoo, happily captivated by the animals and paying no mind to the fact that Harry just had to capture how beautiful and carefree you looked in that moment. 

He’s never taken candid photos of a lover before, nor has he obsessed over receiving a text from one. He certainly never paid this much mind to when Lucy would or would not contact him, and he’d been prepared to marry the woman for Christ’s sake. 

Harry also never once called Lucy ‘sweetheart.’ Or any pet names, now that he thinks about it. Never a ‘baby,’ or a ‘honey.’ Not once. He would always greet her with a simple, somewhat awkward ‘hey you’, and he mostly just called her by her name. 

You come into his life and suddenly he’s throwing around the term of endearment like his life depends on it, and somehow not hearing from you yet is driving him mad with anxious energy. Harry Castillo is a man who is very rarely anxious. 

What is wrong with him? 

There were a lot of people at the charity event, and at the zoo. Maybe he’s coming down with something. Yes, surely he’s getting sick and that’s why his head’s not on straight.

Then the phone vibrates in his hands, and your name flashes just above the image of your grinning face. His heart leaps from his chest, breath hitching. He taps it before it can swoosh away with the rest of his notifications, and a feeling of calm washes over him as he reads the message.

You: Missing your avocado toast this morning. :(

It shows that you’re typing, and then a second message pops up. This one is a photo, however. In it, you’re wearing a black graphic t-shirt advertising what he’s certain is the band Type-O Negative . Your hair looks insane, adorably so, and you’re pouting cutely over a sad looking cup of yogurt.

Harry’s got half a mind to cancel his meeting and take you out for brunch, but before he can even think of a response to text you back with, his younger brother is barging into his office without knocking. He’s the only person besides their mother who can get away with that .

“What, Peter? I’m busy,” Harry says, not looking up from his phone. 

“You don’t seem very busy to me. Is that her you’re texting?” His brother’s voice is saying. 

Harry looks up sharply, glaring. Words aren’t necessary.

Peter grins, plopping himself into the chair across from Harry’s desk. He takes a long sip of his own black coffee, eyeing Harry the entire time. “I originally came in here to complain that I missed the surprise Bad Bunny show, which I’m very upset about. Charlotte being pregnant is ruining all my fun, but don’t you dare tell her I said that. Anyway, then I heard a rumor that you found yourself a new woman at the show, and that the two of you got to know each other very well on the dance floor. I just had to come hear all about it.”

Harry’s eyes narrow even more at his annoyance of a sibling. He loves him, but he could also strangle him at any given moment. “Get out of my office, Peter. I need to prep for the meeting at eleven.”

“Yeah cause you were doing that so dutifully before I walked in,” Peter laughs, taking another generous sip. “So is that her you’re texting, then? What’s she look like?”

Harry groans, “Yes, it’s her.” Then his eyes flick back down to the open text thread, and when they land on the adorable photo of you with your pathetic yogurt, the joyful little smile which creeps onto his lips simply can’t be helped. 

Peter’s jaw drops, “ Oh . Oh fuck , Harry. This is a wild development. I wasn’t expecting this today.”

Harry’s gaze moves back to his brother, eyebrow raising at the look on his face. “What on Earth are you talking about?”

Peter’s sharp laugh is one of disbelief. “She’s the one, man! I’m calling it. You’ve never looked like this before. Not once in my entire life have I seen that fucking look on your face. It’s the only explanation!”

“Bullshit, Peter,” Harry scoffs, looking away but not back down at your image. He has to consciously make himself not, knowing Peter would notice and use the impulse against him. “You know my opinion on that.”

“Whatever, big brother. Suit yourself. As the one of us who has fallen in love, I think I know what I’m talking about. But I’ll let you figure that shit out for yourself. Wait until Charlotte finds out, she’s going to go nuts.” As he says this, Peter is already getting up to leave. “See you in the conference room. Please actually prep for this though. I need you out there. Text her back and then think about her later. Trust me, it gets easier the more you get used to it. Love is fucking weird, man.”

“I am not in love with her,” Harry argues, shaking his head. If anything, what he’s feeling is infatuation more than anything else, right? 

“Keep telling yourself that, bro. And for the love of Christ, get your shit together for this meeting.” And with that, Peter is gone as quickly as he came. 

Harry looks around his large office, at his view of the city below, and wonders if there’s any validity to what his brother just said. Another vibration goes off in his hand, and the excitement he feels is like a jolt of caffeine straight to his heart. 

Only, it’s just his calendar reminder letting him know that his next meeting is in fifteen minutes. The deep disappointment he feels leads him to conclude that Peter doesn’t need to get Harry’s hopes up like that, but there’s a nonzero chance that his baby brother actually knows what he’s talking about for once.

*****

Next

Previous

Masterlist

*****

Taglist: @cheyxfu @notahappystan

[runningracingdancingchasing]

She'd imagined sitting him down on the couch, maybe with some alcohol to make it all easier, imagined the lighting and how it would play on his features. But now they were in the kitchen, and the lighting was completely different, harsh and bright in comparison to her imagination. Well, that was on her. She was the one who'd started the conversation now instead of later.

Clearing her throat again, she found it hard to find her words, and even harder to look at him.

"I've been rehearsing this all day," she confessed with a little smile that didn't reach haunted eyes, toying with her own fingers while wishing she had Abraçinhos to hug. But he was in the living room, on the couch, where she'd meant to have this conversation. "But I can't seem to remember how it was going to go. Sorry if I'm about to ramble..."

Taking a deep breath, she thought through all of the myriad of rehearsals she'd gone through, then picked a place and started. Managing to look at him for a moment, she iterated, "Just know that I'm telling you this because you're my best friend and I trust you." That was very important. It was easy for Rapunzel to love. She loved her friends almost right away. But trusting people wasn't so simple. That probably had something to do with what she was about to tell him...

Okay, here we go. Just breathe and... start. "Okay, so the thing is... I can't remember anything about my past up until a few years ago," she explained softly, "and that's by design. Something... happened when I was little. I'm not sure exactly what, but I know it was traumatic. My therapist thought -- and I agree -- that if I want to function as an adult, I had to lock it all away. It was really the only way to move forward. But that's why there are things that basically everyone knows that I don't know anything about. Which is so frustrating and embarrassing, because I'm usually so smart!"

Even talking about it now, she could feel that locked closet of memories getting banged on from the inside, and her shame from not knowing how schools worked. Her focus started turning inward, a slippery slope to a bad night, even if he decided she was worth hanging onto. Without thinking, she got a glass of cold water and sat down at the table again, pressing the cool glass against her face and neck to keep herself in the here and now and with him.

"There are things I don't remember so much as feel. Echoes of a voice I can't identify or- or thinking someone's going to react negatively to something when no one with half a heart would. Sometimes... it's like a part of my brain is trying to remember the stuff I've deliberately forgotten, and the rest of my brain is trying to keep me from remembering. When that happens I just kind of... go away. Like, I'm there, physically, but my mind..." She paused to sip some water and ran her fingers idly over the place mat in front of her, taking in the texture as the cool drink soothed her throat, keeping her grounded. She surprised herself by the fact that she didn't feel like she was going to cry. Not yet. If he decided this was it, yeah, she'd spend the rest of the night crying. But not yet.

The more she thought about it, the more guilty she felt for being this way and subjecting him to her. Had she trapped him by asking him out before she told him this? But she was telling him now, and giving him an out, right? That was good of her, wasn't it? She liked him so much that she's was putting her biggest flaw right out there in the open and shining a light on it. If he couldn't handle it, well... she could just leave Rio after all.

God, she didn't want to leave Rio. Didn't want to leave him.

A sad, scared sigh escaped her. "I'm broken, Rai. I'm broken, and I don't know if I can ever be fixed all the way. I know I should have told you this before I asked you out, because you deserve to have an informed choice, to know what you're getting into, and I totally get it if... if it's too much. If it's a deal-breaker. I can be a lot as it is, and this is just... it's a lot more. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

And she really hoped he'd stay, despite it. And she was terrified he wouldn't. Her head and stomach swam unpleasantly, pizza and wine suddenly not seeming like such a good idea.

He'd busied himself washing out their wine glasses. Washing dishes was his least favourite of all chores - which he despised in general - but she'd gone through the effort to make dinner, and the least he could do was to help clean up.

He felt his shoulders tense a little as she spoke. Serious and important... Her tone and the entire vibe changed, and he tilted his head at her, a little furrow between his brows.

"Sure, girl." He set the glasses down and dried off his hands, leaning his hips back against the kitchen counter and folding his arms loosely. "What's, uh... what's up?" He deliberately kept his mind as blank as possible, refusing to jump to scary conclusions.

[sweetdispatch]

Princess - V. Mancini

masterlist pairing: Victor Mancini x fem!reader summary: You saw a trend on tiktok and decided to test Victor how he feels about couple gestures warning: none

You and Victor had been together for 5 years. You’ve met in college and since then, you were never separated. You two had a lot of ups and downs during the relationship but always stick up together. That also meant a routine for both of you. During the season, Victor was busy with training while you were working. That meant no spontaneous dates. 

That’s why when you saw the trend of bare minimum or princess treatment you knew you had to test this on Victor. Your relationship had been great but you were curious how he sees these gestures. When you told him about this idea, at first he laughed but eventually he agreed. 

“Okay, I got the list. I have ten examples, ready?” You asked him and looked at your phone. 

“Sure, what’s the award for the win?” Victor asked you. 

“There’s no award” You laughed and Victor rolled his eyes in a playful mood. “First one. Buying her favorite snacks just because” 

“Depends” You looked at him with raised eyebrows. “If I’m in a shop, I’ll buy you so it’s bare minimum but if i’m not in the shop and decided to go and buy you something it’s princess treatment” Victor explained to you. 

“Okay, I get you a point for that. Next one. Paying for her to get her nails done” You read and looked at him. 

“Princess treatment” Victor answered but it more sounded like a question. “But if you want, I can pay for you so you can get them done and we can make it a bare minimum” 

“It is a princess treatment and I don’t need your money baby. I can pay for my own nails” You smiled at him. “Next one. Bringing her soup when she’s sick” 

“Bare minimum. I’m doing this for you and you are doing this for me. It should never be a princess treatment but a normal and healthy relationship” Victor said proudly. 

“It’s a way of showing that you care about your partner” You told him. 

“But if you cook the soup instead of buying it’s a princess treatment” Victor said. 

“Does it mean that I’m giving you a princess treatment?” You asked him and his jaw dropped. “What? You thought I’m buying you soup when you’re sick?” Victor nodded his head. “I’m cooking” You said proudly.

“You’re a goddess woman” Victor lend to kiss you. “What’s the next one?”

“Buying her flowers not just on special occasions” You read. 

“In my opinion it’s bare minimum” Victor said. 

“Then why don't I see a bouquet of flowers?” You asked him knowing exactly the answer. 

“Because you hate flowers and find them annoying! I would buy you every flower in the world but you don’t like them” Victor said, almost screaming. 

“I was messing with you” You laughed. “Next. Carrying her purse when she asks” 

“Princess treatment” Victor said and you were thinking about it for a minute. “It has to be princess treatment” 

“It is but I was just thinking if you ever carried my purse” You told him. 

“I’m carrying your purse every single time when we’re going back home from the club” Victor said. “And your high heels and sometimes even you” 

“Okay, okay” You giggled. “Opening the door for her”

“That’s not even bare minimum. That’s being a gentleman and respectful. This is normal to open the door for women and let them walk first” Victor said and you smiled. 

“Buying period products for her” You read and saw the confusion written on his face. 

“I don’t know” Victor was thinking about it for a minute. “I would say that at the beginning of the relationship it’s a princess treatment but when you live together it’s bare minimum” 

“I would say it’s a princess treatment” You told him. 

“Why?” Victor was curious about your way of thinking. 

“It’s not something I need from you. It’s my problem and my period so if you buy it for me, I feel like a princess” You explained him. 

“For me, especially now since we live together it’s bare minimum because your problems are my problems too and I’m buying you period products. It's the same as when you’re buying me medicine and vitamins” Victor said and you smiled, not believing that you got so lucky with him. 

“I love you so much” You kissed him. “Next one. We still have three more to go. Tying her shoes for her” 

“It's a princess treatment unless you’re in pain and can’t do it for yourself. In that case, it’s bare minimum” Victor said and you nodded. 

“Agreed. Giving her jacket when she’s cold” You read and looked at him. 

“It’s just love and caring for your partner. I won’t let you suffer in the cold just because you can’t dress properly for the weather” Victor laughed and you rolled your eyes. 

“Last one. Refilling her cosmetics when you see they’re almost finished” You said and locked your phone. 

“All the fancy skincare products or your shower gel and shampoo are bare minimum but your makeup is princess treatment because I’m rarely buying it for you. There’s so many weird colors and numbers… Yeah I’m not touching that but the skincare is fine” Victor said and you smiled at him. 

“Wow, how do I get so lucky to be with you?” You threw your hands behind his neck and kissed him. “I love you” 

“I love you too princess” Victor kissed you again. “The last question reminded me that your serum is almost finished and I planned to go and buy it for you after training” 

“How about we go shopping together after your training?” You proposed. 

“Great idea” Victor smiled and kissed you again.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Not Impressed – Tyler Owens

"Explain to me why we drove forty minutes to see a group of storm chasers?" I asked as we finally got out of the car. I instantly stretched, trying to get any relief for my back.

"Only because they are the best!" My friend, Lily, giggled.

"You mean, the hottest," I corrected, sending her a knowing look.

"Tyler Owens is GORGEOUS!" Mandy sighed dramatically.

"Yeah," I scoffed. "And will most likely die, chasing a damn weather report."

"I know how you feel about. . ."

"Don't," I cut off Jess. "You pestered me for days to come here. I'm here. That doesn't mean I have to hop on the same hopeless bandwagon and goo and gaw over these guys."

"You can at least enjoy how sexy Tyler looks," Mandy smirked.

"For the time being," I mumbled under my breath.

Luckily, I was saved by the over-the-top truck and RV pulling into the rest stop/gas station. I honestly had no idea how my friends knew that the YouTube-famous Tornado Wranglers would stop here. These guys may be good at tracking national disasters, but my friends were good at tracking people.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes as my friends started screaming and excitedly jumping up and down. I could only handle their fangirling for so long. To save myself from second-hand embarrassment, I turned on my heel and headed into the gas station.

I absent-mindedly roamed around, grabbing a few snacks and drinks. I checked out and let out a disappointed sigh when I saw my friends still shamelessly flirting with the Tornado Wranglers.

I walked over to the picnic tables and slowly ate some of the snacks. A lot more time passed. I finished the snacks, but stayed at the picnic table. I knew my friends would come and find me when they were ready to leave.

"Hiya, darling."

I looked up from my phone to see the head storm chaser smirking at me. I smiled politely at him before turning my attention back to my phone.

"I'm Tyler," he introduced himself.

"I know," I shrugged, not looking up from my phone.

"Would you like a picture?" He asked, clearly fishing. "Or a signature? Or a shirt?"

I looked up at him with no amusement on my face. "What makes you think I'm here for you?"

"Well. . . You're here and. . ."

"My friends wanted to see you," I clarified as I stood up and threw my trash away in a nearby trash can. "I, unfortunately, was dragged along."

"Unfortunately," he repeated, clearly surprised. "So you're not. . ."

"Impressed that you chase after tornadoes instead of doing something worthwhile with your life?" I taunted. "No, not at all."

* * * * *

I walked out of the motel office and sighed when I saw that tornado chaser and his friends talking in the parking lot. I quickened my step, hoping to go unnoticed.

It didn't work.

"Well, if it isn't Ms. Not Impressed."

"If it isn't Mr. Trying To Kill Himself," I shot back as I kept walking.

"Whoa," he stuttered. "That seems a bit harsh."

I was hoping he'd give up as I jogged up the stairs, but he didn't. "At least tell me your name!" He called after me.

I stopped walking and crossed my arms over my chest. "Why?"

"So I don't have to keep calling you boring nicknames," he tried to flirt. He tried to pout to get me to give in, but it didn't work. What did work was me realizing that he would probably follow me to my room if I didn't tell him.

"Y/N," I said before walking away.

"Now, was that so hard?" He asked as he chased after me.

"It was painful," I mumbled. He started walking with me and kept looking at me as he got closer.

"I'm Tyler," he reminded me.

"Congratulations," I scoffed.

"What's with you?"

I stopped walking and turned toward him. He cleared his throat as he apologized. "I'm sorry. I just. . . I'm not used to women not fawning all over me."

"Hopefully, you've learned something from it."

"Why aren't you swooning?" He asked.

"Seriously?" I scoffed. "Does it matter?"

"Actually," he said, slightly clearing his throat, "it does."

"It's simple," I sighed. "I'm not into your type."

"My type?"

"Adreneline junkies."

"I wouldn't consider myself an adrenenline junkie," he stuttered.

"Adreneline junkies only care about one thing," I scoffed. "The next big chase or jump or whatever. They don't care about the people in their lives. They would happily die chasing the next big thing, not giving a damn about the person they leave behind."

I turned around and started to walk away.

"Wait!" He yelled, chasing after me.

"No," I spun toward him, catching him by surprise. "I will not wait. You know something, Tornado Wrangler, I've been here before. I used to be in love with an adrenaline junkie just like you. And guess what? The adrenaline won. And I had to bury him."

"Oh," he said under his breath. "Y/N. . . I'm sorry. Maybe we could. . ."

"No," I cut him off. "You seem like a decent guy, but I am not getting my heart broken by another adrenaline junkie."

Part 2

[paracosmic-murdock]

days of the new avengers* lives

episode seven: pets

you and yelena watch french movies that aren't dubbed, so you ask valentina for a french tutor to learn. alexei buys pets for the team. bucky training bob goes wrong.

careful who you assemble

pairing: new avengers* x fem!new avenger!reader

tags/warnings: new avengerz assemble, found family kinda, bullying john (maybe affectionately), mockumentary, sapphic reader, eventually mel gold x reader, using y/n as little as i can, this one has some feelz there around and lots of platonic bucky x reader that could be misunderstood (and was by certain someones), reader and bucky get caught in the void!!, tony stark mentioned, reader's position on civil war revealed, past wanda x reader (romantic + unrequited) mentioned, mentions of wanda's death, russian as sokovian, reader likes dogs, more to be added bc i'm going with the flow tbh

3.3K words

✰ days of the new avengers' lives masterlist

✰ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

Yelena and you had started a new tradition: movie night.

Your newest idea was to watch French movies. Thus far, you have seen Les Misérables, Persepolis, and Benedetta. Your difficulty to understand it well enough was stealing the magic from it, so you considered something.

Something that would require blackmailing and dedication.

As nobody else ever joined you —in all honesty, you wouldn’t want it any other way— you could put your plan in practice without much trouble. That way, you could also watch sad movies, cry in French, and not worry about John's mocking looks.

Because John is kind of an asshole and he finds your emotions funny.

“Can you imagine if John was there when we watched La La Land?” Yelena laughed.

“I think he would’ve cried, too,” you replied. “Unless he and Olivia are doing well.”

“Wait, they're talking like that?”

You looked at her, amused. “Are they talking like that? You bet things have been happening in John F. Walker's routine.”

“Things?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Things indeed,” You gave her a knowing look.

“Wait, what does she even know about my routines? I only go pick up my son!”

“Which son?” Ava asked with a smirk. “Your second-born in the making?”

“Shut up, Starr,”

“If it's a girl, call her Ava. If it's a boy, Bucky.”

“Beep off.”

Yelena and you grinned at each other as you worked on your conversation exercise to introduce yourselves. The greetings, deciding whether to be formal or informal when talking, wondering how it would be to make up new names were probably the most fun you've had in months.

The French lesson lasted two hours, and Thérèse, your teacher, even left you homework for the next class. You two were getting ready to do it when the elevator rang to announce Alexei's arrival from a mystery shopping session.

“Team!” he yelled, almost distressed, catching your attention immediately. “I brought gifts!”

“Dad, you scared the beep out of me!” she complained and stood up, looking at the ungodly amount of pets he was carrying. “What's all that?!”

“I brought pets!” Alexei exclaimed, putting the tanks and cages on the floor. “You take the yezh.”

He encouraged you to walk towards it and pointed at the hedgehog in its cage. “What?”

“This is Josh,” he said. You looked at the camera in awe. “I named her Josh because it sounds like yezh. But it's female.”

“Yezh is hedgehog in Russian,” Yelena explained.

“I know that,” you replied. “I meant what the beep.”

“Dad, why did you bring animals here?”

“For you to learn responsibility,” he said.

“I already have Sweet Cheeks and I'm very responsible, mind you.”

“And I basically co-parent Sweet Cheeks and Alpine,” You shrugged. “I- I can't-”

He smiled and put his hand on your shoulder. “You will be an excellent hedge mother. Where are the others?”

Soon enough, Bucky, Bob, Ava, and John were in the common room.

“I don't think this is a good idea, you know?” Bucky mentioned.

“Bob will have the lizard,” Alexei instructed, pointing at the very small leopard gecko in its tank. Bob approached it on the table and started looking at it carefully. “And Ava will have the fish.”

Ava made a disgusted face at the half a dozen of cardinal tetras, but accepted her unfortunate fate.

“John, the hamster will be yours,”

“Beep no, Alexei!”

He frowned. “Do you prefer the dog?”

“We will be returning those, Alexei,” Bucky said. “We can't have so many animals here. There's enough work with Yelena's guinea pig and Alpine when we go on missions.”

“No problem, we'll have them for a week only unless you decide to adopt them,” He grinned. “And I keep the dog. The pet person said this gets along with cats.”

Ava frowned. “I'm sorry, how did you manage to get that dog? I'm pretty sure that's a ridiculously expensive Charles Spaniel here.”

“I got a credit card from Valentina.”

“Uh, can you take care of a dog, Dad?” 

“We'll find out,”

You shook your head. “No, we won't. I take the dog. John takes Josh. You take the hamster.”

“What are you doing? Why are we entertaining this beep?” John questioned.

“I'll name them Maple,” You smiled and took the puppy in your hands. “Is it a girl or a boy?”

“Female.”

“C’mere, my baby,” you whispered to the puppy and then left her on your lap. “I think I'm keeping her, though.”

Bucky shook his head. “We're not keeping any of them.”

“Beep off, Bucky. I literally fought for Alpine to stay,” you reminded him. “And, calm down, you won't have to be Maple's uncle.”

He rolled his eyes.

“The gecko's name is gonna be Syrup,” Bob commented with a smile. “Like maple syrup.”

Your face lit up. “That's so cute! You are Maple's favorite uncle.”

Bucky huffed and stood up, leaving the common room.

“It's okay, baby, Uncle Bucky is just super grumpy. He'll get over it. Let's find Alpine before he takes her to his room!”

“See? The pets were an amazing idea.”

John, Ava, and Yelena groaned in annoyance.

“That beep hedgehog is nocturnal.”

Ava snorted, smiling amusedly at the camera. “Sorry for that, Walker.”

“At least we aren't She-Hades and her dog. She's the one who'll have it hard.”

“Totally,” she agreed. “And I'm not particularly planning on taking care of those fish. If we go on a mission, the only person willing to take care of them is most likely to be on said mission with me or in charge of her own torment. Or worse, of all the pets: Maple, Syrup, Alpine, Sweet Cheeks… I can't add to the reason she goes insane, that's what John is here for.”

“We can never have a civil conversation, can we?”

“If you want one of those, you're looking at the wrong place to have one.”

“Yeah, I should know better at this point,” John rolled his eyes. “Anyway, let's go now. Alexei wakes up at ten.”

“Me and John are going to return our pets,” Ava announced, pointing at the tank and cage John was carrying. “Don't you snitch on us, Chad.”

Bucky, John, and Alexei believed that your lack of presence in the training room meant they could work with Bob themselves.

Since the mission had been very smooth and Bob had been great, they thought he was ready for ruthless fighting techniques. To teach him moves so he could later apply his brute force into them. To improve.

However, they were failing miserably.

“I beep told you that it would be too much!” John yelled at Bucky. “How many soldiers have you trained, huh? Huh?!”

Bucky groaned in annoyance. “Oh, and how many did you train?”

“Like, dozens!”

“Were any of them enhanced, Walker?!”

“What difference does it even make?! We're not training Sentry right now, this is Bob! You want him to turn into Sentry suddenly and use enough strength to kill us in one punch? No, right? Then stop pushing too much!”

“You are acting like he's Hulk.” Alexei said.

“Actually, emotion does trigger transformation,” Bob noted. “Y/N and I found out the bad way.”

“The bad way?” John frowned.

“Yeah, you don't wanna know,” he replied, trying to look unphased.

“What? You punch her?” Alexei asked.

Bob shook his head. “I wish it was something like that,” and he sighed. All three looked at him in acknowledgement and wondered how you had the guts to leave the training room without giving away the fact that you spent hours in the Void only to help Bob, as if it was nothing. 

But Bucky knew. He knew why you did it: because you cared. Because you had been where Bob was: taking that ‘chance’ to be part of something bigger, maybe to help in a way that mattered, not in control, having something anyone would call a gift being closer to Hell on Earth, on the wrong side before earning a choice, redeeming yourself as if you could make up for everything you've done one day. And, if you could do something to help ease Bob and support him in his journey, you would. You would go to lengths beyond you if you knew it would help him. Bucky knows that too well because you've done the same for him.

The connection you and Bucky share goes way beyond the people and spaces that link you. It goes beyond Steve and beyond Wakanda. It is there in key moments: being HYDRA's favorite toys to break, you leaving everything behind so you could be there for him despite not knowing him—not really at least, realizing that the only thing keeping you from solitude and insanity was having each other, facing the loss of the people you loved the most together, crossing the line of morality to protect each other… the things you have done for him and he for you, the things you are still willing to do without hesitation; that is what connects you.

“You guys don't have to do any of this, you know? Just because I felt like training today doesn't mean I had to.”

So, maybe it was the Bucky that loves you and wishes to protect you above all, or maybe the Bucky that was jealous at the thought of his best friend going through all that trouble for someone else. Like, is he not the special one anymore? 

He doesn't know which option was more embarrassing for him.

“Yeah, I honestly think we have to be heavily trained first,” John noted. “But I'll talk to Y/N.”

“I'll help,” Bucky said. “We can do this, Bob.”

“Are you sure? I know you knew what I meant when I said I hurt her worse than physically. I don't want to do that to you.”

Bucky raised the corner of his lips in a kind, small smile. “You won't hurt me, Bob. I'm not scared of you, I trust you.”

Chad congratulated them for the meaningful shot and left.

“He totally shouldn't have trusted me,” Bob said with embarrassment. He looked anywhere else to avoid the camera, eyes landing on Syrup.

He sighed.

“I guess I should learn to be in control.”

“Shit, fucking shit,” you murmured to yourself, running into the training room and closing the door behind you in hopes for Bob's relapse not being bad enough to spread much further to the point it could exist or be seen outside the room. “Fuck…”

You threw your bag anywhere and ran into the shadows, getting ready to spend the possible worst couple hours of your month there.

Once you were inside, you appeared in your room. The one you got used to by now.

And you knew the drill: ignoring your family's bodies, turning the man crouched and about to find you under the bed to stone before he saw you—before he took you, getting under the bed and in front of a smaller yourself, wiping your ten-year-old version's tears, and kissing your own forehead. “Vse budet khorosho, detka.”

Telling yourself that ‘everything will be alright, little one’.

It hurt, but not enough to harm all that much.

When you opened your eyes again, you were in your old room at the Avengers Compound. This one? It was new, and you already hated seeing Tony that last time and sensing the disappointment in his voice he tried to hide as he said goodbye.

“I heard it's too hot in Wakanda,” He shook his head. “And that there's not much to do.”

An eighteen year-old you grinned. “Actually, I think there's a lot for me there, you know? Like… too much happens in this fuckass city. A little peace will do no harm. And you can call me, you know? I can always come visit if I'm welcome.”

“Are you one call away?” Tony asked, a bittersweet smile on his lips.

“As long as nobody throws my ass in jail,” You saw yourself shrug. “I'm sorry for… leaving. I feel like staying out of it was choosing the side of indifference, but I never wanted to be against anyone. I was never sure what was the right thing, I don't think I'll ever be, I just know I never wanted to hurt my family. That includes you and Steve too.”

“And Wanda.”

You pressed your lips tightly. “She got dragged into another war. When she was gaining as much normalcy as an Avenger can get, Lagos happened. This happened. I don't blame her, even if you do.”

“But it hurts,” Tony pointed out the thing you knew too well.

“She got away,” you murmured. “I thought we had had enough war for a hundred lifetimes, that we could just leave and start over. She thought otherwise, so… now she's gone and overthinking it is of no use.”

“I'm sorry about this. I shouldn't have let this happen, let it come this far.”

You sighed. “We are all at fault, Tony. I'm sorry about it, too. I'm sorry for leaving.”

“But you're still a kid. You don't have to be sorry for choosing yourself for once.”

That was the problem. You weren't choosing yourself—you were choosing Bucky.

You were choosing the man who killed his parents over him and he knew it better than he would've wanted to. He knew why. He knew you saw in Bucky the darkness left by the light HYDRA stole from both of you. He knew you enough to catch it from the moment you backed off and decided to leave them to fend for themselves instead of signing the Sokovia Accords or choosing teams.

Tony felt your betrayal, you knew he did. And he saw that silent awareness in your eyes as you let him live in your lie. He knew how it killed you to leave it all behind, so he chose someone other than himself for once and just went with it to spare you.

And, if he knew that would be the last time you saw each other, he would have hugged you before closing that door without looking back. You, however, knew that it was probably the last time, but didn't have the guts to stop him.

You just cried without realizing it before blinking and appearing in Westview that day, when Wanda's hex was finally lifted and she chose to leave instead of picking you. She rejected your love like you knew she would, because you meant little compared to the grief Vision left behind. That day haunted you because you could have done more. You could have insisted she stays instead of blaming her for leaving you. You could have offered comfort instead of telling her she would lose the one person who loved her through everything, that not even Vision knew her like you did, that nobody would love her like you always have, that she was making a mistake. You could have had some dignity and respect instead of making her feel guilty for trying to find her own path. If you hadn't been so hard on her, you know she would have stayed.

Because she loved you, too; maybe not like that anymore. But she loved you. And your words were what pushed her to the edge that one day, what caused the detrimental solitude that drove her mad.

And now she is gone, and you have made peace with it despite who you turned into the moment she walked away from you, but you could never forget her or the mark she left on you.

So you turned around and, when you did, you saw Bucky breaking down. You saw him look at himself as the Winter Soldier, telling Steve he was his mission, hitting him as if he were a punching bag in a rage room, hearing his best friend say he would never hurt him back because he was with him ‘til the end of the line, whatever that meant. So you ran to Bucky like you have learnt to do by force of habit.

“Buck, Bucky, look at me,” You got in front of him, interrupting his view. “I'm here. I'm right here. I'm…”

Suddenly, the void perished. Bucky was still on his knees, crying in silence, a vacant stare you hadn't seen in a while.

You didn't look away, you didn't care for it.

“Bucky,” you whispered, meeting his eyes. “It's over. You are here, you are safe, you are safe with me.”

His breathing was ragged, soon turning into desperate gasps for air. You only held him, driving his head to your chest so he could mimick your breathing and his ear could catch your heartbeat.

Steady, alive, there.

You hushed him and caressed his hair. Gently, softly, careful, with a fondness that grounds him, especially when he has felt it for long enough to remember he is too privileged.

Just then, he held you tightly as if you could slip away any second. As if the moment he let go of you, you would go somewhere more important. As if he was just lucky that you stumbled onto him first.

But it wasn't like that, because Bob was at ease already. Mel, appearing like God himself had summoned her, was standing beside him and staring at the whole thing.

And when you looked up and noticed it, you caught no one other than Chad there filming the scene of you and Bucky.

“Chad,” you called him. He cut immediately and showed you a thumbs up, like congratulating you for the show. “Listen to me very carefully because I will not repeat myself: if you don't delete that video right this fucking second, I will kill you. I am not saying this just to say it, I am not joking, and this is not a warning. This is a threat, and you might as well report this to HR or even the police, because I am dead serious.”

“Delete it, Chad,” Mel ordered. “The views or whatever you want, they're not important. This is.”

Once Chad had shown her that he did indeed delete the footage of you calming Bucky down, Bob escorted him out of the training room.

But Mel stayed for some reason she ignored and witnessed first hand how deep your connection with Bucky was. She realized that you couldn't live without each other, and that whatever she was feeling and whatever you might feel too, if anything at all, would never be anywhere as great.

“I'll be heading out,” she informed, taking a step back.

“Mel,” you called her and, against her better judgment, she stayed. “Thank you.”

Mel didn't know for sure what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn't you thanking her. Maybe the delusional in herself wanted you to tell her that it wasn't what it looked like, asking if she could wait for you and talk. But it wasn't that, which only meant that you saw her as her actions, not as her.

All she ever wanted was for anybody to see her. The Mel she is outside of Val's assistant, the Mel she might be.

She thought you didn't.

But you certainly did, just not right this moment where the only person who had never left you, who had always accepted you, needed you the most.

Mel also valued that. Seeing you being so caring made her like you even more, made her wish so bad she could get that version of you for herself.

But does she have to be a broken thing to get your attention? Or would just Mel be interesting enough?

[kaliforniahigh]

Hi! I love your stories 🤍 Please can you write something with "I" and "Y" with Noah? 🥺

NSFW Alphabet - 900 Followers Celebration!

I (intimacy) + Y (yearn) | Slight NSFW under the cut! | Thank you for the request ❤️

"I know it's been a while, baby. But you gotta be patient", Noah whispered in the quiet of your bedroom. He stroked your cheeks with thumb, looking at you so softly, you swear you crumble right there.

"I've been patient for so long already", you almost whine your words out.

You don't want to be bratty, you swear you don't. But it's just been such a long time since you and Noah have been intimate, and you don't want to wait any longer.

You kind of feel bad for the way you're talking to him right now. He's been so kind to you, calming you down, making you both didn't rush too much and that you were comfortable.

"I know, sweet girl. And love the way you want me so bad. But we gotta get you ready first, ok?", he explained his point, and you almost wanted to say no, tell him that you've been ready since he left for the stint of festival a couple of weeks ago.

But then, he was drifting his hand lower, skimming his fingers over your panties, and all thoughts drifted away from your brain.

You turned to mush the moment he pushed your panties to the side and felt how incredibly wet and needy you were for him.

"You feel so good. I knew you'd be this wet for me", he said in the shell of your year, and your only response was a chocked moan that scaped from your throat.

"Gonna go slow. So you can remember every feeling", he slipped one finger inside and you gasped in ecstasy. "So you can remember how my fingers feel inside of you", he pumped in and out and leisurely pace. "And I want to remember how warm you. How tight you squeeze me. How your face looks like when you cum for me".

His words were making you dizzy. And it's when you realized that he needed to go slow for his own sake.

"Will you help me remember, baby?", he asked, and you let out a string of "yeses", as you nodded your head and clung to him.

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If you haven't been tagged, it's because your blog doesn't mention your age, or it is empty!

[liedownquisition]

Ah I see, so you just... don't actually understand that the way you phrase things imply things. Cool. Got it. That explains your own difficulty understanding the text, got it.

Also, no you're not really explaining it, and even if you were no one was asking for that "explanation" in the first place. Read the first post again, you'll notice the operative phrase "a lot of people" and this is specifically directed at things like people who complain/hate on Jason Todd, while adoring other characters who share a lot of significant themes, personality characteristics, and concepts with him.

It also, most 100% definitely says that that dislike is valid? But this is about people and things that complain about Jason for things that are DEFINITELY prevalent also in the characters that they do "stan." Such as Batman, or Huntress, and so on and so forth. It's kind of like this:

Where people prop up their character for doing the same things, which funny thing is usually more common with female characters on the negative end of it so this is a somewhat interesting, if still exhausting, subversion of a very boring and repetitive issue.

Anyways you also missed the part where we both agreed that Jason was an extension of the same philosophy - yes, that even includes the fascist portions. (Bitter even Literally Also Called Jason Fascist). A vast majority of the superhero fantasy at its core cannot exist without some degrees of it, particularly once it starts expanding into the kind of universe DC currently has. Come on, the watchtower? Brother Eye? Are these not sparking red flags in your mind? And who, exactly, is responsible for them?

Batman.

Also, Batman has been called fascist multiple times even in-canon and spin-off properties. Usually by Green Arrow, or in that Blue Beetle movie. They're not wrong, but no one takes Green Arrow seriously about it and the Blue Beetle line was framed as a joke for the audience to laugh at.

-He asked Bruce why he wouldn't, and when Bruce gave his answer he... "accepted" it and asked him to stand by and let him do it himself. If you wanted to illustrate the point of Jason asking Bruce to kill the Joker, maybe you should have picked the pages right before this where he was going on, at length, about the reasons WHY Bruce should have? Instead of the one where he literally said "Fine, I'll do it"? The page that literally says, twice, "You won't kill him, I will." And even then, that speech was less asking him to do it and more condemning him for his choices.

He didn't say "Don't" he said "Won't" the time is long since past for Bruce to be the one to pull that trigger. If he was trying to get Bruce to kill Joker, he didn't try very hard.

-That's fine not to reread, but you're clearly not remembering a lot of it or went into it with such a biased perspective you weren't paying attention (which, you know, it's a bad comic I can't entirely blame people from missing things. But again, at least hate things accurately?). Kori had more character and development than Roy did, actually. At least in the parts Lobdell wrote. I still haven't decided how to classify Tynion's portion of that mess. It gives me a headache.

-I never said Jason was a better Batman, I said that his ideals of "wanting to be a better Batman" means that his ultimate motivation is just an extremist version of Bruce's own. Once again: that means that if Batman is a fascist, then so is Jason. Albeit one that operates outside the overarching fascist system Bruce aligns with and attempts to build his own, equally flawed system

-Do you realize how many poor people literally kill themselves to get out of medical debt because they cannot find work and see themselves as just burdens to themselves and sometimes their families? Do you know how common it is for people to realize they need expensive medical care and ask their families to let them die instead for the same reason and how that's not really that far off from killing yourself for it? Do you even understand how much poor people who can't afford insurance just don't go to the hospital and die of preventable/fixable things because they're afraid of medical bills? Have you been paying no attention whatsoever to how even with insurance it's a huge issue to not get medical care because it gets denied and would be too expensive without it which is a RELEVANT and RECENT topic of concern?

It's still a death, it's just one that you can pretend didn't spiral from the initial incident. Slow, and agonizing, and you're going to suffer and know what caused it the whole way while Batman remains blissfully ignorant of his responsibility in your suffering.

And, with regards to your tags: Hi! Not only Have I been affected by organized crime, My family was part of, and torn apart by it. Speaking of putting words in our mouths, when did we say it was okay for him to kill "bad poor people"? We didn't. And Bruce Beating and Throwing "bad poor people" in jail doesn't help their families either! I've said it before but if Bruce was paying attention to the families of the criminals he & the system he supports put in jail and doing anything about it, chances are Jason wouldn't have ended up homeless in the first place!

"It's okay to prey on addicts as long as they're not kids" we ALSO didn't say that but do you know what happens when you cut addicts off cold turkey? I've known people who were in so much pain from the cravings that they were tearing out their hair and chunks of their scalp and digging their nails into their arms so hard they bled. I have known people who had seizures during withdrawals and hit their head going down and died because no one knew it was happening. I have known people who got arrested and thrown in jail and died in their cells because they were left to go through the withdrawals with no assistance.

Cutting the drug lines entirely isn't the answer, either. Preventing them from getting more kids hooked on drugs is the bare minimum. It's not an endpoint, it's a beginning.

To be honest I think that a lot of people who share the anti Jason Todd sentiment don't even actually hate Jason. I think a lot of them hate what he forces the narrative to do.

Jason forces the subversion of the hero genre -- he's the single, most extreme proof that Batman's hero fantasy wouldn't be effective in real life, and therefore Jason showing up can take you out of the universe really fast really hard. A lot of people are here for what comics are meant to offer, the one man hero fantasy that makes you Feel Good, and Jason showing up doesn't Allow you to enjoy it! And if that's the case, you're completely justified in not liking Jason, he takes you out of the thing you enjoy.

I think a lot of you don't actually find his personality or acts annoying in of themselves, you just hate what those actions do to the genre itself. And I think once you realize that and start looking at comics like actual pieces of literature, Jason and shitty comics both will become a lot less rage inducing to you.

[enlightenedfeline]

Tips for writing a sociopath:

While I've already made a post about the differences in writing psychopaths and sociopaths, I found it might be more helpful that I expand on each individually.

Do keep in mind that I am in no way a professional, I'm just a writer who's done her research and have written characters with ASPD before.

1- Conscious Sociopaths do have a conscious, a very weak one, that is often overshadowed by ego or impulse. So they are capable of feeling empathy and guilt.

What does this mean for your character? It means that while they lie and cheat, they can feel bad for their victims, it's just that they're able to ignore this feeling or it's overpowered by other feelings, often a need to be the best.

2- Ego Sociopaths are more often than not, fueled by ego, and a need to be liked and admired. They care what people think of them, and require praise for the things they do.

Sociopaths often look at more shallow methods of being the best, they don't try to be the best in how good they are to others, rather they try to be the richest, the smartest, the most attractive, etc.

3- Lying Sociopaths don't mind lying, more often than not, it's the easier option for them. They have little to no moral opposition to it, if it benefits them, they'll do it.

This applies to other things that someone without ASPD would consider wrong, cheating, betraying, and so on.

If it benefits a sociopath, they will do it.

4- Consequences. On that same note, sociopaths care how they appear to others, so they will try to keep any moral wrongdoing hidden from the public, to maintain their image and reputation.

5- Self-awareness A sociopath is not aware that they are a sociopath, maybe they can be made aware of the fact, but more often than not, they will be enraged if a label like that is put on them, because it can ruin their image.

Your average sociopath doesn't know that they're a sociopath, they'll think they're simply better than those around them, or more dedicated to things.

They will view themselves as the standard, making them very distrustful of people. Because if they lie and cheat, obviously everyone else does too, right?

6- Impulsiveness How impulsive a sociopath is depends on many personality factors, some people are just better at evaluating the future than others, this applies to sociopaths as well. But more often than not, a sociopath will be more impulsive than your average person, craving instant validation over long-term commitment to something.

7- Why? As far as my knowledge goes, sociopaths are the way they are due to factors in their childhood, often abuse.

Unlike psychopaths, who are born with the condition, sociopaths develop it in childhood.

This could explain the existence of a conscious, while psychopaths lack one. They still feel bad because inside them is a child who still feels, but a child who was hurt and abused enough to lose all hope in the world and the people in it.

This causes sociopaths to be distrusting of everything and everyone, making them incapable of forming geniune connection with people, which turns into loneliness.

Remember that sociopaths are not evil, no one with ASPD is, this tip post is of general information that I like to keep in mind with my characters. Your character may choose not to lie or cheat, they may be more or less impulsive, etc. At the end of the day, just make sure not to make the fact that they're a sociopath their entire personality.

That's all for this post, feel free to ask me questions in the comments about the specific character you're writing cause I always love answering those!

Maybe some of this advice will help, maybe it won't, either way, I hope this feline has enlightened you!

[thelovelywriteress]

NERO AND HIS GIRLFRIEND𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ

Silly and random headcannons for my boy, which may or may not make sense 😭 so read at your risk!

Ever since you realised how much of lonely childhood Nero had and how he thought he did not deserve good things, you made it your goal to make him feel loved every moment for rest of his life.

Through you have good intentions, Nero initially start there was something wrong with you, as suddenly you couldn't keep your hands to yourself anymore if he was in same room as you.

"Whatever it is─never let your weapon or focus down." Nero explained to children in orphanage as it was obvious many of them was joining Order in future and he wanted to give them some advice as it feels good to be admired.

"Hey there pretty boy!" You exclaimed with happiness as you hug him from behind, making his face flushed and definitely his guard along weapon down.

Nero tried to prey you off from him as he felt the stare of children, seeing him contrary his words as you just harden your grip around him, making sure your affection and love reaches him.

"Do we got a beautiful girl hugging us too?" One of kid asked in aw as you let out suppressed laugh─snort.

"If we are strong, do you give hug to us too sister?"

Children were now more interested on how to get you more than whatever Nero was teaching them. Nero look at the scene─feeling annoyed how attention was taken from him and how these brat thinks they can have you too.

"Find someone for yourself. She is mine."

He pulled you to his chest as his hand claims place on your head. Safe to say everyone including you was completely in aw. Damn when did your boyfriend got so bold?

Kids were more sharped than you both expected. They quickly understood you both got something going on and exactly what you have going on as they corner you both with various questions. Definitely more excited and engaged than whatever Nero was initially was teaching them.

"So you hold hands?"

"You sleep together?"

"You feed each other?"

"YOU KISS EACH OTHER?"

With each question they cornered you more and more as they finally ask you to kiss each other to prove your relationship.

"The hell we proving yourself to you?" Nero throw him an annoyed glare through you have opposite reaction as you were acting all blushing and shy, mumbling it is something you guys really needed to do for your relationship.

"Did you finally turn crazy?" He asked his vien popping out as you give him a flirtatious smile before wrapping arms around him and almost pushing a kiss on flustered Nero.

Sadly kissed was stopped by Kyrie who scold you for being pushy and pointed at poor Nero who was vigoursly fan himself to cool down his warm face.

"Don't tease him. You know he isn't much for affection in public." She gently reminded you and took the kids, who were complain about not seeing kiss, so you guys could continue on private.

"Try to do push these things on me again and see what happens." Nero warn you but he didn't missed that mischievous look in your eyes. Things were just starting.

Now Nero loved you very much and wouldn't give you for anything but these days you were getting really out of hands─especially in public, you would just barely lay your eyes on him and next moment you would be either clinging to his arm or hugging him.

You would hesitate to call him your boyfriend in front of others, which he kinda likes but won't say but sometimes boyfriend just kinda get overused.

"Hey there didn't notice you because my eyes only focused on my boyfriend."

"Yeah and then my boyfriend said─I shouldn't and I was like boyfriend─I am fine. But boyfriend didn't took me seriously then boyfriend──"

Nero would be lying tho if he said he hated all the attention tho. The way you prioritize him, made me so happy but he was sad that he couldn't match your enthusiasm in relationship.

Nero, who was before, was still used get embarrassed in private too now was getting clinging. Always holding you and giving you random pecks on cheek as it was his way of showing he loves as same. He even started to hold your hands in public on his own.

"Whoa Nero─e-enough." You said in between the giggles that left your mouth as Nero keep on kissing you around the face.

Bro turned into some kinda animal who just wanted to cuddle you. He even started to bite you as you give him such a cute aggression. In private, he don't want to do anything just cuddle with you, with you telling him how you adore him. It gives him so much contentment.

"Aren't mosquitoes eating you too much these days?" Kyrie humoured on your reasoning for bite marks as you felt your cheeks warming. Is that how Nero felt when you used to be clingy with him in public?

When you thought your boyfriend wouldn't make your heart do more flips, he pulled the boldest stunt which made you sure that you never want to let go of him.

You were both were exploring the island (which initially was Nero fighting with the demons but then you followed him and forced him tag along).

Nero keep on reminding you how dangerous the forest would be and how easy it would be for demons to you guys but ask him to chill, saying how you believe your knight in armour will protect you to which Nero let out an annoyed huff. Yes he would definitely protect you, even with his own life but it doesn't mean you could be reckless.

You come across a high tree and competed who can reach the top first, in which of course Nero won and you pout but he keep his confident smile as enjoying seeing you mad.

"Whoa you can see whole Fortuna from here!" You exclaimed as you and both observe the town. Pointing at various places and identifying them.

"Oh and that's the church where marriages happens." Nero highlighted as you nodded along,"Hopefully one day ours too." You mumbled in flow but it reach Nero's eyes who give you an suprised look.

His reaction made you realised your words and embarrassing they were asking you quickly start to explain how you didn't meant what you meant─life is short and it's not like marrying him was your only goal of life through you wouldn't mind but OF COURSE it still got time and m-maybe you guys won't be even together in future. You keep on speaking but Nero cut you off saying how it wasn't like he was against the marriage and he DEFINITELY DO NOT want a future where you guys aren't together.

"It's just I was surprised that you hold such a deep feelings for me that you even imagined our marriage." He confessed rubbing back of his head.

"It's not like I do that on daily basis. . .it just come out in flow of conversation." You mumbled feeling flustered.

"But I do not want you to think I am against it." He started again as your cheeks started to get visible red, you didn't even thought that,"Yeah I get it─" You were cut off as he put his hands on your shoulder,"I don't know what kind of future this island filled with all this demon killing holds for us but I still want to be by your side. To give you best and see you forever smiling."

Your face was in aw hearing his words, how sincere and geniune they were. It was like he was doing some confession you remarked to which's response he turn around in embarrassment, stating how his confession can't be this lame.

"Well, well don't be embarrassed now. I like that confession─or whatever it was. So you can kiss me as a reward."

He gave a hesitate look, before leaning in and kissing you on lips.

"How rude!" You slapped him in angry.

You meant on cheeks. He can't kiss an unmarried girl on cheeks. He retorted back with how much close you guys are from cuddling to even kissing at other parts of face is lips where you drew the line? Hypocrite.

"Oh yeah." You mumbled, looking down. Realising with how much physical contact you guys shared, this kiss practically meant nothing,"But it still don't make it right. I didn't give you the consent." You continue on hit his face which he shield with his arms.

You were just weird girl. You bathe him in affection in public and private but one kiss from him in private turn such a big thing.

He is pretty sure more than consent, it was about your suprise. You never thought he could kiss on lips, atleast not this randomly. Guess this marks a point for him tho. He is going do all sorts of things out random from now.

[docholligay]

Thicker Than Water

Do I even think this is good at this point? Could not fucking tell you. Probably not. But it's more than I have written in a long long time, and it combines just, so many of my favorite things, and it's with the new dollies Papa brought for me from across the seas. About 4300 words, I would love it if you could find one nice thing to say! This will absolutely be the regular liveblog draw and I reserve the right to give extra draws if you lie well.

I HAVE NOT SEEN PAST EPISODE 17. PLEASE DO NOT SPOIL ME AND KNOW I AM AWARE I AM JUST MAKING SOME SHIT UP BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW ANY BETTER THAT'S FINE WE'RE FINE.

The trouble with Hawkeye was--among other things Roy would list--you had to be able to read her. Hawkeye considered what she was feeling at the moment to be, like so many other things, on a need to know basis, and not relevant to the overall mission. 

Luckily, Roy had become very good at reading her. 

Unfortunately, not needing to explain herself to Roy had left her with little will to improve in this arena. 

Even less fortunately, a decision had to be made, and quickly, with nearly a dozen of his men around him, and Hawkeye doing everything she could to hide any anxieties in particular. 

It was like solving a Rubik’s cube colorblind. 

Roy took a long look at Hawkeye, her arms crossed and staring straight forward. A hellish barb stuck out of her leg, blood pooling around it. 

“The convoy should be here soon.” A kid. Probably nineteen. Roy guessed he should probably dismount the high horse about being and recruiting young in the military, but anyone could be a medic. You didn’t need to get to them young. 

“So we should wait?” Roy snapped his fingers, and the medic’s eyes widened at the sparks. 

“Uh, well, the thing is--I mean I don’t have anything to give her, so it--it’ll be bad. But…” he looked over to the wound, making a mental calculation, “Given what I know about the coating, leaving it in might be worse. If we wait. So. But, yeah.” 

“Love the confidence.” He muttered under his breath, walking over to Hawkeye. “Thoughts, Lieutenant?” 

She looked up at him, and Roy tried to read. Her eyes flicked over to a staring group of men, mixedly loyal, annoying, or both, waiting to see her squirm. But she would not give it, and she nodded stoically. 

“Take it out.” 

“Agreed.” Roy spun around and gestured to the entrance of the tent. “If you aren’t operating, being operated on, or me, I need you to leave. Go to your tent, go to the mess, go to hell, I don’t care, but get out of here, and be far out of the way.” 

“I need someone to hold her down.” He nearly stuttered it out. 

“I’m not here to be decorative.” He looked back over to the group. “That was an order I just issued.” 

He eyed Roy as several much bigger soldiers, not to mention what was possibly a good quarter ton of Al, left the canvas tent. Even Ed said nothing to question him, the one bright spot in an otherwise miserable day. 

“I’m not sure...this is going to be excruciating, sir. I--” 

Roy delivered his well-practiced glower.  “And I’m sure she loves hearing that. I wasn’t asking for a consultation. We’ve got it.” 

Roy knelt next to Hawkeye and took off his gloves, folding them neatly and laying them to one side. 

“Give us a minute.” he gave a smirk.  “Please.” 

The young medic looked to them both, and then nodded. “”I’ll get my tools.” 

Roy took off his coat and put it underneath her back. “Remember how all Alchemists are weak and pale and don’t have any physical fitness requirements, so we’re like squishy little baby birds? You’re always telling me this. So, if you fight back too hard, you’re going to hurt me. Having physical standards and all. There’s a reason I don’t mess with you and Hughes’ little war games. You need to try and stay still.” 

“The only weight an alchemist has ever lifted was a book.” 

“You like to say.” He rolled up his sleeves. “So be careful with me, I’m delicate.” He looked her in the eye.  “Me and you. We’ve got it. We don’t need anyone else.” 

He could feel her trembling as he put his arm around her shoulders and grabbed her elbow. It twisted his stomach into a cramp. The medic walked back over to them with a cart, rolled over the stone and dirt. He sat on the ground next to Hawkeye and ever so slowly cut around the wound, exposing the sick burgundy of it. Roy took a quick glance at the ceiling. 

Hawkeye took a short, brave breath and closed her eyes. “Keep talking.” 

“Boy, is that something I thought I’d never hear from you. Maybe he was wrong and you are dying.” He nodded to the young man, who was pale with anticipation. “I was thinking about our office the other day. My office, of course, but I let you in there. Who in the world let you set that up? Was it me?”

There was the high metallic ping of some tool Roy was too cowardly to look at, and she stiffened. 

“If it was me, I’ll write myself up. If it was you, I’ll make you do the paperwork.” Hawkeye’s back arched, and a cry stalled in her throat. “Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, I’ll have you do the write up either way. Your penmanship is neater.” 

He heard the rasp of something against flesh, and listened instead to Hawkeye, taking a deep breath. 

 “You don’t even--” A swallow “Know where the forms are. Ah!” 

“Exactly. Exactly.” He held her tighter, and she twisted against him. “Makes me feel like a damn kindergarten teacher. And don’t try to make me feel bad about bringing this up now,” he tried to keep hold of her, “you never make yourself available to discuss this when I want to, so I have to take what I can get. Let me tell you what else is irritating--” 

His mind raced through a dozen things. Something she thought would be stupid, and funny, and would irritate her in the way only he could. Something that would make her forget the same thing he was trying very hard to forget. Had she pushed him aside, when the attack came? He couldn’t remember, and he couldn’t ask, because Hawkeye would roll her eyes at him and say something about how he was always in the way, so why should this be any different, or just roll her eyes and expect him to supply the sentence himself. Should it be him, gritting his teeth? He was a talker, he was a wheedler, he was a weaver, that was what he did, was talk and explode things, and if here he was failing at the first one when all he had to do was try and hold on to Hawkeye, to keep her still, and say bullshit, but the sound of it all was so loud, and the smell of Hawkeye’s blood was tin in the air and--

“Sir?” The medic interrupted, his hands bloody and his eyes soft, “This will be the worst part. It’s wrapped--”

Roy popped like hot sap in a fire. “Just do it!!” 

He complied with a twist and a tug, and Hawkeye found the end of her tether. 

“Roy!” She screamed it as she bucked her head against his shoulder, and a sheet of ice went down his back, the taste of bile in his mouth. She stopped herself and bit her lip, a prickle of blood coming from it.  She must have felt him freeze up. Hawkeye.

“No. Don’t.” He grabbed his glove and put it in her mouth. “Bite on that. You know, I think you’re trying to give me a complex about my name.  I always liked it, but you must not.  I am never having a good time when you say it. Not once.You know it means king? What do you want me to change it to? You think I look like an Andrew?” 

There was a crisp yank of Hawkeye’s leg, and then she collapsed into him, panting. There was an arc of small holes across his glove. The sweat from her forehead dripped onto his neck. It took him a moment to realize he and the medic were panting too, the three of them having run a race to the finish. Hawkeye remembered herself first, raising a hand to push the hair off her face. She closed her eyes, took two very calm breaths, pushed herself to to sitting, and promptly threw up in the instrument basin. 

“I got it out.” The medic remembered, the spell broken.  He held the twisted, bloody thing aloft. There was a small chunk hanging from the top barb. 

“I see that.” Roy lamented, his gaze sharpening,  “Go get something to clean her up.” 

The young man sprung to his feet for some fresh towels, and Roy took her shoulders. 

“You’re okay. It’s over.” He reassured himself as he squeezed her shoulder. 

“I’m fine, Colonel. Water.” She spat. “Please.” 

“Right.” He shook off the haze of the moment and began to fix his shirt, buttoning it at the sleeves. “Thanks for missing my jacket. I’ll charge the glove to your paycheck.” 

He walked to the other end of the tent, took the water from the bottle and drank deep himself, the cool of it breaking against the dry of his throat. He poured some of it into a small cup and went back to Hawkeye, who at least had been supplied a towel to wipe her face as the young man bandaged her wound. 

“Here.” He crouched by her. “I suppose you’re going to want the afternoon off. Lucky for you I don’t have much to do.” 

She drank the cup in one gulp, and handed it back to him without a word. She leaned back on her hands, closing her eyes. 

Roy stood up and went back to the water bottle, pouring another glass. He motioned to the young medic, who looked even younger than he was in the wake of the incident. He scampered over to Roy. He should be playing tag or something, Roy thought. It was easy to talk kids into games they had no business playing. It was part of the job.

“You like being a medic?” he nodded. “You want a better position?” Another nod. “As far as you’re concerned, she didn’t even whimper, and I expect that to be the gossip I hear at dinner.” 

“Yes, sir.” He saluted, and it seemed like he meant it. 

“Is she cleared to leave?” Roy wished he’d put his coat back on. He looked more authoritative with the coat. “I’d like to get back to my quarters.” 

“Yes, sir. I doubt she can put much weight on the leg, sir. It’ll be better tomorrow, sir. She needs some rest--” 

“Sir, I got it, I hear you.” He strolled back over to Hawkeye and gave her the cup of water. “You’re dismissed. The only thing I want from you is to tell the doctor to bring something for the pain when he arrives.” 

He gave another stiff salute, and left quickly, seemingly forgetting this was the medical tent and technically his domain. 

Hawkeye set down the empty cup and took a slow breath out. She pushed herself up onto the good leg, and tried to stand up, wobbling nearly over until Roy rushed under her arm. 

“Goddamnit Hawkeye, knock it off. I’m going to go get Armstrong. He’ll just throw you over his shoulder or something. Be done with it.” 

Her eyes widened. “No.” 

“Don’t be more irritating than usual. “ 

“I can manage.” She took a hop, and leaned heavily on Roy. Too heavily. It was easy to forget by looking at her, by seeing how quickly she moved in battle and with a grace that could surprise you, but she was not a delicate fairy of a woman. Roy struggled and nearly fell, which he did not consider very flattering to him, but to think any further than that would be to consider that possibly Hawkeye was right about his book to gym ratio. 

“You can’t. I’m getting Armstrong.” 

“Don’t!” 

He leaned her up against the sturdy metal table, which was currently holding both a bin full of instruments and puke, as well as several bloody towels, and picked his coat up out of the dirt. 

“Listen to me. I cannot carry you. Remember my very moving speech about being a fragile baby bird? I thought it was pretty good, but maybe I was the only one listening.” 

She snapped at him. “What would you do if I fell in combat?”

“What I’m trying to do now! Tell Armstrong to pick you up and move it before I burn a hole in his ass!” 

“I’ll walk. Just--a second. I can do it.” 

“I don’t like your color.” he stiffened up and threw his coat back over his shoulders..  “Lieutenant. I am your superior officer. As your superior officer, I am telling you, you are not going to walk anywhere. As your superior officer, I am telling you to accept the help from Major Armstrong.” 

“Permission to speak freely, sir.” She said, unimpressed by the coat. 

Her eyes attempted to bore a hole in him, but he deflected the gaze with a wave of his hand. 

“No. Denied. I have a pretty good idea of what you’ll say, Lieutenant, and I’m not in the mood.” He pushed back his hair, and it fell into his face just as quickly,  “You have my permission to shut the f--” 

There was a set of footsteps, rapidly approaching the tent, and Roy turned to meet them. 

Hawkeye gave an exhausted smile. “Hughes.” 

“Knock knock.” Hughes walked in and quickly surveyed the bloodied towels, Roy’s crossed arms, Hawkeye’s bandaged leg, and the general sense of argument and exhaustion in the room. “You two have all the fun without me.” 

Roy threw his hand up. 

“Is he allowed to know you’re human, or is that verboten too?” 

---

Out in the dust and sand, things were more like they had been in the war. One of the few aspects of it Roy had never particularly hated, though plenty of people did. There wasn’t enough room for officers to have their own quarters, so there was a tendency to double up in whatever arrangement made sense. No one had even asked if he wanted Lieutenant Hawkeye with him. No one ever needed to. 

They hadn’t asked where he’d wanted his quarters, however. He would have said, “Closer to the med tent, or closer to the officers’ mess tent, or closer to anything at all.’ Or maybe he wouldn’t have, if he hadn’t realized he’d be hauling one half of Hawkeye across the field. Hughes had his arm wrapped around her chest, under her armpits, and was doing a fairly impressive job of hauling her along. Roy both realized he was mostly providing balance, and that he was exhausted by the effort. Thank God for Hughes, he’d thought more than once.

The tent was large canvas, with a large bed, plush as Roy remembered for all the annoying higher ups he had now become, and a smaller, less nice bed for the subordinate officer. When had he become this? It seemed the years had been such a grind, but when he looked back at them, he wasn’t sure what the moment had been. 

Roy gently dumped Hawkeye on the larger bed, Hughes following suit. 

“This--” she protested.

“I’m tired of carrying you. This is where you stay.” Roy grabbed the pillows and piled them behind her back. “Where’s your bag? You’re sweaty and you’re making my bed sweaty.” 

“They told me as soon as I got off the convoy. Doctor’s right behind me, though I’m sure he’s probably reassuring the medic that Roy’s not gonna burn his tent down. Here, I stole this for you.” He took a slice of cake in a cardboard box out of his bag, and set on the side table. “The fancy lads with the fancy food are in camp. You deserve a treat.” 

Roy brought over one of her multiple grey t-shirts, and Hawkeye slowly took off the sweat soaked one and replaced it. Hughes squeezed her shoulder and gave her a little smile. 

“Can I fix your hair?” 

“I’m alright.” 

“Of course you are! I wasn’t worried about you for a minute, you could do this twice a month and come out swinging.” He looked at her.  “Maybe once a month.” He whirled around to look at Roy. “You, I’m not so sure.” 

He grinned and rubbed at his arm, wincing. “I think I hurt my shoulder.” 

“Precisely. Honestly, it’s more that as the father of a daughter, I should learn to do more than pigtails.” He sat down next to Hawkeye.  “Elicia’s hair’s not long enough for a braid, but she’s going to want them any day now. I don’t want to be a leech on Gracia. So let me practice on you.” 

Hawkeye looked at him with a haze of true exhaustion. “Okay.” 

“Thanks.” He took Hawkeye’s hair out of its bun, and smoothed it as he began an uneven low braid, filled more with kindness than with skill, and he laughed. “You see I need the practice.” 

Hawkeye’s eyes were far away, and she started to shake, just a little at first, enough that Roy could ignore it, and then a cold sweat broke out on her brow. Roy could read Hawkeye, but Hawkeye could also read him, which he found at equal parts annoying and useful. 

“I’m fine, Colonel. Don’t be worried.” Her voice did not shake, but only through sheer will. 

Hughes roped up the end of her braid “Who’s worried? We’ll just get you warm. We’ll get some food in you.” He looked at Roy, “This is just a thing that happens.” 

Roy wanted to argue with Hughes that he knew that, that he had seen more combat and more destruction and more ugliness than Hughes had ever seen riding a desk, that he was condescending, but it was so damn comforting that he couldn’t manage any of it. Fucking Hawkeye. Fucking Hughes. How they fucking cared about him. How annoying. 

Roy grabbed an extra blanket from off the end of the bed and tossed it over Hawkeye. “You need to lay down and rest. You’re off duty.” 

Hughes picked up the piece of cake. “You should eat this.” 

“I don’t want it.” She closed her eyes. 

“Where exactly is the rumored doctor?” Roy wondered aggressively. 

“Colonel. I’m fine. Just tired.” 

“It’s Grand’s. I thought you’d enjoy that. Considering your feelings.” Hughes sat down on the bed. “I stole it at great personal and professional risk, so it’s the least you can do for me.” 

There was a call from the front of the tent, and in came a serious looking man, who Roy was delighted to see looked old enough to be shaving. He nodded to Roy and Hughes with an the confidence that could only come from a man who had gotten to avoid the hard work, and set a bottle on the small table next to Hawkeye’s slice of cake. 

The examination was mostly perfunctory, and mostly to avoid having Roy as an enemy, and all that was fine by Roy. Hawkeye looked over at the bottle, sitting poker straight, holding herself still as possible, as the doctor gave her some instruction about rest and signs to watch out for that she mostly planned on following as long as it didn’t get in her way. 

Roy took the bottle and twisted off the top, handing it to her. “Take this.” 

She opened her mouth to protest, but shut it just as quickly, giving in the twin temptations of modern medicine and her own bone-deep exhaustion. She should measure it, she should reject it, she should do a dozen things, but the number one thing she wanted to do was the thing she did, which was take a reasonable drink of the bottle and let it numb her tongue. 

Hughes turned and smiled at the doctor. “Thanks.” 

“That means you’re dismissed.” Roy added. 

“Roy. C’mon.” 

Roy smiled in his charming, warm, and utterly fake way. “Thank you for your help, doctor. I’ll have someone report to you in the morning. That will be all.” 

“Of course, Colonel.” He picked up his bag and left through the flap, Hughes securing it before his shadow could even fully leave. 

Hawkeye laid back on the pillows with a deep sigh and a heavy flop, eyes closed. 

Roy shook his head. “You’re a ridiculous person. I don’t know why I bother.” 

“Stop talking.” 

Hughes grinned. “See? She’s fine. You know you should probably get to--” 

“I don’t need it from you.” He looked down at Hawkeye, pulling up the blankets. “I’m going to touch you. Don’t be paranoid.” he tucked them in around her and turned back to Hughes. 

“Well, you need it from someone, and Hawkeye’s tired, so it’s just me. If you didn’t want to get dinner, I do have some new pictures of Elicia to show you, and--you’ll never believe how cute she’s gotten--you know, Gracia was just saying the other day about you--” 

“Maes, it’s been a long day.” 

“Sun’s not even down yet.” 

“Maes.” 

“Anyway, Gracia was saying you--Hawkeye, are we keeping you up?” 

“No.” She smiled sleepily, her eyes still closed. “I like it.” 

“Great. Anyway, she was saying you should really meet this girl --” 

___

Roy sat down on the small bed and took off his shoes. He blinked back a wave of exhaustion that had finally crashed over him, as if his body had suddenly remembered the effort of holding so much tension. 

“She’s out cold.” Hughes gave him a glass. “Here. Have some brandy.” 

“I do think I hurt my shoulder.” Roy massaged it for a moment. “God, she’s strong.” 

Hughes sat down next to him and took a drink. “You’re not usually on the receiving end, so it’s easy to forget, but considering she’s flipped me over her back a time or two, I’m not all that surprised. ” 

“Thank you.” He stared into his glass. “For being here.” 

Hughes considered a moment. “She scare you?” 

“It wasn’t the greatest moment of my life.” He lifted the glass to his lips, but mostly wetted them. “Hawkeye. God. She’s so stubborn. I fought with her at--” He glared playfully. “See, this is why you need to pick up a job in Eastern. She listens to you. ” 

“No, she lets me get away with things. Besides, Gracia hates the east. You’re on your own.” He shook his head. “Roy, I know we’ve had a lot happen, but you remember the early days. She had to be more. Everyone treated her like garbage for the crime of being a woman. Hawkeye holds a grudge.” He chuckled.  “Honestly, like no one I’ve ever met. Impressive.” 

Roy swirled around the brandy, the heavy legs of the liquor making rivers back into the sea of the glass. He took a drink, long and slow, flipping over the events of the day in his mind and assembling them, like a man playing solitaire. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

“You look tired.” 

“No wonder Information gave you a promotion.”

“Ass.” He snorted, smiling. 

Roy sighed heavily . “She pushed me out of the way.” 

“Of course. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but, she’s just kept doing the same job since you met. You’re her Alchemist. She keeps you alive.” Hughes laughed. “And honestly considering the Alchemist, they ought to give the woman a medal.” He swirled the brandy in his cup. “Hawkeye’s Hawkeye, and I don’t try to fix it. You’re you.” 

“She could burn her life better.”

Roy glanced over at Hughes, who was considering. He took a drink and moved the words around like scrabble tiles, waiting to present them. 

“Not to her, Roy. And that’s her choice to make.” He nodded. “I don’t try to fix it.” 

Roy looked up at the ceiling. Hughes was annoying: Sometimes by accident, sometimes by design, but he was much keener and smarter than he pretended to be. He was a fantastic fighter, a brilliant informant, because he watched people. He understood them. It had been that way since they were young. All these things benefited him.

Hughes interrupted his thoughts by ruffling Roy’s hair with a smile. “And I like you both.’ 

But the greatest thing he was, was kind. This was also by accident and design. 

There was an unsuccessful tangle with the knot Hughes had tied at the midpoint of the zipper, and an angry man called through the tent flap. 

“Hughes, are you gonna come do your job, or are you gonna keep playing grabass with your little friends?” 

“I better go.” Hughes poured the remains of his brandy into Roy’s glass. 

“Pretty sure I outrank him.” Roy said, unsure if it was true, but sure enough that he could make the man think it. 

Hughes stood up and nodded to Roy. “I’ll come check on you after.” 

“I’m beat flat.” Roy shook his head, set down the glass, and began to unbutton his shirt. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Hughes took a moment to look around the room before grabbing his bag. 

“Well, if she’s not gonna eat this, I will.” He picked up the slice of cake and gave a little rub to Hawkeye’s arm.  “Goodbye, little friends!” 

He left out of the flap and zipped it behind him. Roy thought about getting up to tie the knot, but his body felt like it was made out of lead. The bed felt so soft beneath him. He tossed his shirt onto the floor and laid on his back. Hawkeye’s breaths were deep and slow on the other end of the tent. It was okay. Everything was fine. He didn’t need to fix it. 

He fell into sleep like a child falls out of bed, without warning, and all at once.