#potential discourse warning

[riacte]

Ready to time travel to 2021 Hermitblr/Trafficblr?

Bogwaters Demo out now on itch.io!

A hand to hold until the end. A hand to hold because we're friends.

June 2021. The experimental Minecraft series Triple Life SMP has just aired its finale and you're obsessed with the dynamic between the Minecraft YouTubers Benbog and Mars OfTheBigWaters.

Problem? The fandom still hates shipping. Solution? Start an underground Discord server to quarantine your shipping activities. To avoid being cancelled, you'd have to scour your social media to find potential members who are secretly open to shipping.

ABOUT

Bogwaters is a free, text-based, interactive fiction browser game. The game is a parody of the Third Life SMP fandom in mid 2021 that is focused on Treebark (the romantic ship between Rendog/Martyn InTheLittleWood) and its fandom relevance.

This is a demo version (prototype) meant to test the limits and feasibility of this game.

You play as the owner of a Discord server named Bogwaters. Your goal is to invite 4 people within 7 days, from June 1 to June 7.

Full "how to play" guide can be found within the game.

This is the author's first interactive fiction game so it may be wonky. Constructive feedback is appreciated!

Word count: ~10k

Estimated play time: 30 to 45 minutes

FEATURES

3 endings

5 NPCs you can attempt to invite

Friendship levels for NPCs

Fandom enjoyment meter that can increase or decrease based on your actions

New Tumblr dashboard for each of the seven days

Tumblr, Discord, Ao3, DMs

Special events on certain days

Light/dark mode

CONTENT WARNINGS

MCYTshipping (hermit and traffic)

2019-2021 type ship discourse

2019 Hermitblr

2021 Hermittwt/Traffictwt

Canon-typical innuendos

Swearing

Written in Ink by Inkle Studios.

Original inspiration post here (May 13, 2025) (Yes I wrote this in less than two weeks)

I had a lot of fun making this and I hope you enjoy it too if you play it! Please talk to me if you have any thoughts and opinions, I'd love to ramble :D

<3

[babybearnation]

when you lovingly call my name

⎇f1 drivers x gn!reader ; you exchange contact names (texts) ⎇contains: alex albon, arthur leclerc, charles leclerc, dino beganovic, george russell, zhou guanyu, kimi antonelli, lance stroll, lando norris, liam lawson, logan sargeant, max verstappen, mick schumacher, ollie bearman, oscar piastri, paul aron, pierre gasly, yuki tsunoda ⎇author's note: y'all remember the contact name discourse? ⎇content warnings: potentially incorrect characters (guanyu), breakup joke (pierre), potentially incorrect honorific (yuki)

© all rights to babybearnation 2024.

[bluemerakis]

─────────── ᝰ bluemerakis ༝༚༝༚ ──

pairing ୨୧ firefighter .ᐟ jason todd x er nurse .ᐟ reader

warnings .ᐟ just literal fluff, implications of smut

synopsis ─ jason is determined to celebrate his birthday girl with an entire day formulated just for her.

word count ~ 2.1k

fic concept directly inspired by bree’s firefighter ! jason todd x er nurse ! reader works!

──────────────────────

The bustling cityscape blurs by in a blink as the firefighter truck effortlessly clears a path through the afternoon traffic. Navigating the city at peak hour usually never comes this easy, but it helps that Jason has flicked on the vehicle’s warning bells that announce your presence like a life-or-death situation. And when you’ve got the law forming the backbone of your urgent presence, it’s easy to manipulate any traffic to your will.

In all honestly, he’s playing foul—using his powers for the evil that is getting his way. After all, this is Jason’s day off. He has no business sporting the emblem of his career for something as silly as a surprise joyride with an ordinary citizen like you claiming shotgun. Jason would argue that your station as a nurse earns you every right to warm this seat—outside of being his passenger princess, of course. So, who are you to resist?

If he were anybody other than the man you so dearly loved, you’d have cashed in on your temper to ridicule this little power stunt that granted him free-flow traffic through the jam-packed city. But because he was your man—attempting to spoil his woman on her big day—you’d grace him with a break. Maybe, just for today, you’d bathe in the perks of being the birthday girl. And maybe, you’d pocket this instance for another day that called for reinforcement if you’re ever caught in a petty quarrel that’s tilting his way.

Your cheek is nestled in one palm as you gaze through the truck’s passenger window, eyes tracking the various cars that teeter down below and pull off to the side in organised sequence as the sirens roll up on them. Then, within seconds, they clear a path that makes you feel like esteemed royalty—and it certainly helps that the truck’s tall enough to loom them over like you’re a queen addressing her lesser subjects.

And just for today, you are royalty. Or, at least, Jason thinks so. Because you’re not just the birthday girl—you’re his birthday girl, and he’ll be damned if you get anything short of perfect on this day that marks another year of your existence.

He’d started you off with a breakfast in bed—bacon and eggs prepped just the way you like them with bagels, cream and jam to round off the sweet-savoury experience. Entirely handmade with love, and far too much satisfaction that he’d manage to conjure up such a tasteful meal. Shortly after, you’d both taken your dog for a relaxing morning walk around the block, making a pit stop at the mobile coffee shop on the corner for a drink—he’d paid, of course.

Upon coming home, he’d practically herded you into the car. It wasn’t exactly your day off, but Jason had insisted that you deserve it—and hadn’t given you any room to wiggle out of it, either. Not that you minded. A break from a job as taxing as yours would never go unappreciated, and Jason was the one that had made the call and spared you from the potential discourse on the other end of the line. Out of sight—or hearing, in this case—out of mind.

He’d driven you both over to the station to slip directly into one of the fire trucks, adamant on keeping his personal, little adventure a secret regardless of how much you pried. And you did. But the only detail he’d let slip is that you’d enjoy what he had in stock for you, which did nothing to ease the curiosity within. And honestly, any time spent with him was always enjoyable.

Now, you’ve been on the road for a little less than ten minutes, courtesy of the truck sirens that blare overhead. The noise starts to get old after a while, and your ears seem to ring in agreement. You’d have thought that after years of working as a nurse, the blaring tune would become as natural as any other ER noise, but the urgency behind it’s existence would never allow any inch of you to settle.

“You know, you didn’t have to pull out the big ol’ fire truck for this,” you remark lightly, the air-conditioner nipping at the flush skin of your cheek as you lose your hand’s support to glance over at the firefighter.

Jason’s eyes are forward-turned, burning holes through the windshield as he navigates the newly-formed pathway. “Didn’t have to,” he agrees, cheeks rounding with a smug grin. “But I did—and I’d say it’s payin’ off pretty well.” His attention briefly flickers down to the GPS mounted on the dash before it shifts to sneak a peek of you. “And judging by the fact that we’re only five minutes away from Narnia, I’d say that the GPS over here shares the sentiment.”

You utter a light-hearted scoff, lips spreading with a grin to match his. “Wow. Narnia, huh? You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you? That this li’l surprise of yours is going to blow my mind.”

His broad shoulders roll in an overly-innocent shrug as he turns his attention forward once more. “Let’s just say I got a pretty good hunch that you’ll, at the very least, love me slightly more by the end o’ this day,” he claims smoothly, lower lip taken into a brief bite as he entertains some silent, amusing thought. And you don’t have to ask him to enlighten you as he close-captions it only a second later. “And that somethin’s gettin’ blown tonight,” he adds without meeting your stare.

Oh, you dirty li’l skank, is what you’re tempted to say. But as your eyes lower down the figure clad in a black shirt that compresses his toned figure, and a loose-fitted pair of trousers that somehow cling to his thighs just enough to accentuate his bulge, you’re not sure you can so easily deny the request. Bold declaration, more like. Even if this is your special day.

So instead, the corner of your lips hitch with a newfound daringness as you say, “play your cards right, and I might just be feeling generous enough to show you a time you might not survive, fireman.”

Jason flashes you a glance that’s packed with silent schemes. “Careful, nurse,” he chuckles through an eager smile. “You’re treading a thin line o’ medical ethics with a promise like that.“

“Oh, like you’re the poster-boy of ethics when you’re lugging around the firetruck just to avoid traffic on your off-day,” you snipe playfully, hands coming up in a self-satisfied cross.

His lips purse with consideration before his head cocks in concession. “Touché,” he yields through a smirk that admits he’s been bested. “So, what do I gotta do to get such a selfless gift on your birthday?”

You turn your attention forward, eyes narrowing thoughtfully—and beaming a little too brightly with the newfound sense of power that being the birthday girl seems to warrant. “Step on that gas, get us to wherever we’re going, and the gift’ll be all the more closer to unwrapping,” you instruct cheekily.

Jason huffs softly before his hand leaves the wheel to brush over your thigh, pulling your attention back to him. “Yes, ma’am,” he says with a quick glance, fingers kneading lightly at the fabric of your dress before they desert you to wrap around the gear with fervour. There, he shifts one down, and the truck growls with an enthusiasm that mirrors his own demeanour before he sends the both of you down the streets.

It’s not long before he turns one corner, and then the next, before he pulls up into a fairly quiet lot that overlooks a glistening lake. You’re instantly taken aback by the view, head craning forward as you drink in the scenery through the winding windshield of the fire truck.

Luscious grass spans the entirety of the lake’s bank, and scattered amongst the field of green, looming trees sway under the light breeze while thickets of dew-kissed flowers twinkle under the sun’s glare. Awe has you by the throat as you squint through the windscreen, and you manage to make out a line of ducklings that wade through the water in pursuit of their mother—who’s otherwise oblivious to their presence as she repeatedly delves into the water.

“Oh my god,” you breathe softly, shy tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you reach to lean your arms onto the dashboard. “It’s so beautiful here.”

“Might as well be our own Narnia, yeah?” Jason laughs quietly, hand coming up to graze a soothing line along your back. “I drove past this place once when on a call, and I just knew it’s somethin’ you’d appreciate over a bottle o’ your favourite wine,” he adds almost proudly—like he knows he’s done a good job of surprising you.

And, truthfully, he has. And you adore him for it.

“We can’t go any nearer than the lot, unfortunately—place is protected property,” he adds regretfully. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t sit right here, crack open the windows, and enjoy the view with your favourite snack of this century.”

Your head snaps toward him with a comical speed, eyes blown wide with an enthusiasm to match. “Jason, did you pack what I think you did?” You test carefully, hopefully—like the fate of the rest of the day depends on this mere answer. And it does.

Jason brims with amusement and confidence alike, which does everything to nurture the butterfly of hope that flutters around your stomach. “Mhm, baby,” he confirms proudly. “And not only did I pack a generous amount o’ uncrustables, but I’d like to think I’m packin’ elsewhere, too,” he adds wryly, and he doesn’t even have to saturate the innuendo with a wink before you’re rolling your eyes in defeat. “I’m just messing with ya,” he chuckles, hand shifting to cup your chin in a pinch before returning to your back.

“Yes, and no,” you respond with a cheek to match his, which has Jason shaking his head lightly, proudly.

“God, I love you,” he declares huskily, his gaze softening with profound adoration as he drinks the view of you in. The hand on your back lingers for a few seconds longer, the warmth imbued in his touch combining with your own body heat like a magnetic field always destined to mingle. “I hope you know that these planned moments are not a rare occurrence; you’ll be getting days like these until we’re old and grey because you deserve that much. You deserve more, and I’m gonna give you all that I have, baby—all that I am. Happy birthday.”

You drink in his words with a soft smile, your heart throbbing beneath the weight of it all. “Happy birthday to me, indeed,” you reiterate in a whisper, overcome with a sentimentality that leaves you unable to utter anything more.

You lean yourself off the dashboard, Jason’s hand shifting from your back to graze a light trail down your arm, instead. You grasp his hand into your own, and the physical union settles into the space between you for only a few seconds before he lifts your hand to his lips. There, he places a firm kiss atop your knuckles, fixing you with a loving stare that filters through his lashes before he releases you once more.

“Hold onto that while I go and fetch us the basket,” he says sweetly, hand moving to flick at the button that rolls both your windows down before his door clicks to bid his temporary farewell. But your hand flies across the space to grab him at the sleeve, stilling him in his seat.

“Wait,” you tell him, and Jason turns to face you with light curiosity woven through his handsome features. You lean yourself into his vicinity to place a chaste kiss on his lips, which he returns with a passion that soils the innocence of it all. And when you pull back, he gazes down at you like you’ve robbed him of all urgency in this world. Like nothing else could possibly matter in this very moment.

“I hope you know that I am incredibly happy right now,” you breathe into your shared space, your heart throbbing in solidarity with a pain that only love can elicit, and simultaneously heal. You briefly turn your eyes back to the glorified view beyond windshield before glancing back over at Jason, your lips softening with a broad smile. “I love this place. I love this day. And I love you,” you say—almost murmur, but Jason catches it, anyway because he never could let a damn thing about you slide.

As Jason fixes you with a soulful gaze, he realises that he’s nobody special—not rich and not entirely successful in life. But being here with you? Being able to call himself yours? That mere fact already means he’s won the lottery. That he’s as accomplished as he’ll ever need to be.

You consume him in ways that mock the might of raging wildfires, and it’s not something he could ever quench—not with time, not with reinforcement, and not even by deepest desire. Because there’s nothing he craves more than the destructive force of loving you.

With your every, ignited touch, he’d let you brand him beyond any recognition of self because the was nothing about him worth remembering other than the promise that he was all yours.

And he’d let himself burn to embers if it meant that his last memory was loving you.

──────────────────────

a/n ─ happiest of birthdays to sweet bree @titsout4jackles 💌 this is my tiny (and late 😔) gift to u. it’s not much, but please take it as a token of my deepest love. i love you so bad and you deserve everything you want in life and more. you’re such a blessing to this world and everybody within in. i love any and all of our convos and i appreciate that you’re someone i can spew bullshit to and you’re always there to reciprocate the dumb-assery. never stop being the absolute icon that you are. MWAH. also, to be frank 👨‍🦳, idk shit about jason todd so if this entire thing is ooc, OOPSIE AND OH WELL❗️❓

© bluemerakis ─ do not plagiarise or steal any of my works.

[dollgxtz]

I’m seeing a lot of “People are so soft, of course Caleb drugged MC he’s a yandere.” discourse here and on twitter.

As a dark content writer, I wanted to add my two cents. So firstly, it genuinely pisses me off when I see statements like that. People are not soft for having boundaries and triggers. They are not soft for not wanting to be drugged in their fictional game? Like hello? A lot of people have irl traumas surrounding it too so it makes sense why they’re upset that it got sprung upon them in the main story.

Infold should’ve added a content warning. Full stop. It was very distasteful of them to spring this onto people. I’ve genuinely seen people in the lads community express how uncomfortable they felt or how they weren’t expecting it and got triggered.

It truly hurts my heart as someone who writes this kind of content, because the last thing I’d ever want to do is trigger someone with His Watchful Eye unexpectedly. That’s why it’s properly tagged and multiple warnings are given at the beginning so people know what they’re getting into. I tag every potential trigger and sometimes I still feel it’s not enough. That goes for any of my fics tbh.

Stuff like this really does give us who enjoy dark content a bad name. Like we have to realize we are the minority, majority of people do not enjoy that and it’s okay!! We shouldn’t be shamed for what we enjoy, but that doesn’t mean we should turn around and shame others for what they don’t enjoy.

“This must be y’all’s first otome game”

Please stop it with that statement too. There’s no prize for who’s the most desensitized 😭.

I’ve always encouraged freedom of expression with His Watchful Eye. I don’t get upset when people tell me they wish Yan!Sylus would die or they hate him and hope him and MC don’t end up together. I love Yan!Sylus. But does that mean I expect others to? Absolutely not!! That’s the beauty of fiction, everyone has different opinions on it!

All in all, let’s not shame people okay? People are vastly different in their opinions and thoughts, so let’s keep it respectful. Let’s not attack real people over fictional characters yall 🤍

Adding a pic of Sylus that I took below cause I literally can’t stop looking at it 😌

[askfordoodles]

Ok, fellow Emmrichmancers, I need to defend my girl Harding here for a bit, cause she's been getting some disdain and eye-rolling for being the supposed 'discourse-mouthpiece' (ie. being the only one calling out the age gap thing).

Listen, ... when she first brings it up, that's what it SOUNDS like she's doing. Harding has a tendency to struggle with wording things well, she's life-smart, not book-smart - so that first banter does read as though she's worried FOR Rook in that patronizing way like a parent or older sibling, who thinks they know better... (heck even Emmrich potentially falls into that trap during the argument)

but then there's follow-up banter and it becomes clear that, no, she's not worried Emmrich might be taking advantage of poor innocent younger Rook; it becomes increasingly clear she's worried about HIS feelings. She's always addressing her concerns to HIM, and worrying about how they're "going too fast" (even IF he's made the promise to Rook to move slowly during their first dinner-date).

Harding's making observations about how he's becoming noticeably "mopey", she can TELL something's worrying HIM. (mind you, not even Rook seemed to have picked up on this)

And in turn he's very honest with Harding about how, despite defending himself against Davrin's juvenile jabs and appreciating/enduring Taash's sentiments and all that jazz, the age gap thing DOES secretly bother him. (the fact that he doesn't start moping straight away suggests that Harding was right, they DID go a bit too fast and Emmrich especially, was blinded by the honeymoon-phase so to speak). He does end up genuinely thanking her for her concern and advice, to try and think ahead about the relationship.

(Although sadly it still takes their potential impending deaths for him to reach their crisis-stage of needing to address his worries and I could do a whole essay alone on how he chooses to handle it, but others already have, so not now)

Say what you will about her, out of all their mutual friends, Harding was the ONLY ONE to see the pre-battle argument coming from A MILE AWAY, and she was trying to gently warn them; to try and nudge her two friends to have a serious talk about the consequences ahead, rather than blithely avoiding it.

tl;dr: Harding's got that serious emotional intelligence, and y'all best RESPECT her relationship advice.

[gutteringhearthplace]

MUTUAL AID REQUEST FOR DISASTER RELIEF FROM VOLCANO ERUPTION!

TLDR: RIVERS & SPRINGS CONTAMINATED WITH SULFURIC ASH! Food & water in serious need. PayPal FoodNotBombsAsia@myyahoo.com donate what you can and/or please share this post!

WHAT HAPPENED: On June 3rd 2024, Mt. Kanlaon in the Philippines erupted, tragically killing over 3,500 farm animals and, impacting over 4,000 residents who were forced to evacuate and are still affected by the aftermath. The local Veterinary office is reporting that farm animals continue to struggle with severe respiratory and health issues due to inhaling the volcanic fumes.

WHAT’S GOING ON NOW: Clean water and food are in desperate need as residents cannot use the water from the contaminated rivers and springs. The area is currently at level 2 alert, with regular volcanic earthquakes occurring and the looming threat of another eruption. Volcanologists have warned that there may be further explosive eruptions or even a hazardous magmatic eruption.

OUR NEED: Our comrades in Bacolod City have informed us that they are bracing for another potential eruption and are preparing for disaster relief direct action. Our fellow comrades on the ground are providing food and water to a community of 400 people. OUR CHAPTER was able to send over $50 USD ($45 after exchange fees) to purchase one sack of rice that can feed a family of five for up to 40 days.

We understand not everyone has funds available, but we would like to challenge other FNB chapters and mutual aid groups to match our donation of $50, send a lesser amount (or more), or repost this post in solidarity to help spread the word.

CALL TO ACTION: We are seeking promoters, bookers, bands/performers, and venues willing to help us organize a local fundraiser. The proceeds will go towards supporting our comrades facing this devastating disaster.

In terms of fundraising, please ONLY contribute if you are able to spare, however, sharing information about the fundraiser and raising awareness is a tremendous help as we have not seen any discourse about this dire situation. Please reblog, help get the word out!

[sorrowsofsilence]

the bet 3 • bad omens

pairing: all bad omens members x fem!reader

words: 12.7k • masterlist

warnings: 18+, polyandrous relationship (so yes, there is some angst and discourse with navigating the challenges of a shifting relationship), threesome, foursome, voyeurism, double penetration- pls wrap it b4 u tap it, male!masturbating, male!receiving, fem!receiving, creampies, "sloppy seconds" (oops), swearing, nicknames: princess, pretty girl, good girl), jealousy,

summary: It wasn't really just a game after all, was it?

note: buckle up as there will be a part 4 due to how long this ended up being lol I’m sorry - also it’s 4am and not proof read I’m sorry

PS. THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

+

Turning, you blinked at the clock on the nightstand, its digital numbers glaring back at you.

10:45 AM.

Your heart sank, realizing you all overslept and missed the bus's scheduled departure time.

"Guys," you said, voice hoarse as you tried to sit up. Peeling yourself from the swede beside you, you frantically shouted, "We’re late. We’re so late."

Jolly groaned beside you, pulling you back down against his chest.

"Five more minutes," he mumbled, nuzzling his face into your back.

"No," you insisted, wriggling free despite not wanting to, "It’s almost eleven- the bus was supposed to leave an hour ago.”

Ruffilo sat up from beside you abruptly, eyes wide with panic.

"What?" He fumbled for his phone on the nightstand, cursing when he saw the time. "Damn it."

Folio muttered something incoherent, rubbing at his eyes as he tried to wake up from the cot on the floor. Matt frowned over at you from the bed beside yours, though his sleep-tussled hair marred the effect.

Noah already began to dress rapidly as you offered an apologetic look to Jolly who sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“We have an eight-hour drive. We’ll make the show but we’re probably fucked for soundcheck,” Matt mumbled, pulling on his jeans.

Ruffilo scrolled through his phone, and you peered over, noticing the array of missed call notifications and texts. “Shit, Bryan’s been texting for hours.”

Matt pulled his shirt back over his body, searching the floor for his baseball cap. Placing the fabric over his head he tossed you a wink, before putting his phone to his ear. “No regrets though, right?”

"No regrets," Ruffilo confirmed, the edges of his mouth tugging into a slight smile as he pulled himself out of the sheets, picking up a shirt.

"Speak for yourself," Jolly muttered. He remained lying down, arm slung over his eyes. But the small grin that played at his lips spoke more truth than his words.

The room was suddenly filled with hurried activity and idle chatter as the boys launched themselves into action - Matt taking control of the situation and letting Bryan know everyone would be there shortly, while Ruffilo, Folio and Noah packed their bags quickly.

Through it all, Jolly lay still, his gaze focused entirely on you, fingers threaded through yours.

“You’re worth it," he declared softly. His tone smothered any potential doubt regarding last night.

"Come on," he said after a moment, finally rousing himself. He moved with careful deliberation as he started to collect his clothing from around the room.

You pushed yourself off the bed and hurried to pack your things. Searching for your hoodie, you sighed in frustration when you couldn’t find it before a hand reached out to yours.

Nicholas smiled warmly at you, holding out his own sweater. With a nod of his head, he motioned for you to raise your arms, allowing him to pull the fabric over your head and down your body, engulfing you in his scent.

“Thanks,” You smiled shyly, mind flickering to images of him devouring your body just hours prior.

He beamed as he placed the hood over your head, gently holding onto your cheeks as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

As he stepped away, you couldn't help but notice the lingering glances from both Noah and Folio. But these looks were not filled with animosity; instead, they seemed to hold a gentle challenge within them. Who could make you smile wider? Whose touch made your heart skip a beat? 

It almost seemed like an unspoken agreement between them that you were cherished by all, but possessed by none.

Yet, despite this understanding, a twinge of envy still crept into Noah's chest.

The brunette came up behind you and rested his hands on your shoulders, smoothing out the fabric of Nicholas’ hood against your back, "You're quite remarkable, aren't you?"

Your face warmed at his words, spine-tingling as Noah’s hand roamed down your back, and Ruffilo’s soft breath brushed your face.

“C’mon guys, we gotta go,” Matt said, eyeing the three of you briefly before opening the door. 

Matt led you all out of the room and down the hallway, while Ruffilo and Folio followed closely behind, deep in conversation. You glanced briefly at one of the workers, who raised a curious yet accusatory brow toward the group leaving the hotel room.

As you moved through the lobby, Noah's arm slithered around your waist, pulling you flush against his side. He pressed a hasty kiss into your hair before diverting his attention towards Bryan who had been pacing by the entrance, phone clutched tightly in hand.

“Sorry we’re late,” Matt said as he approached Bryan, “We overslept.”

“Overslept?!” Bryan exclaimed incredulously, brandishing his phone like a wand, "I've been trying to reach you since six in the morning! The bus was scheduled to leave at nine! You’re the manager, Matt, how come I’m doing the managing?.”

Matt held up his hands in surrender, visibly trying to keep things calm, "Sorry Bry, didn’t mean to stress you out. Let’s head to the bus."

Bryan drove everyone in the van back to last night's venue, and you quickly helped unload the bags onto the bus.

“I’ll stay in the van with Bryan,” Matt said, shifting on his feet as his thumbs jumped across his phone screen, likely texting the venue an update, “We won't have time for pit stops if we want to even make time for a brief soundcheck, so, prepare for eight hours of non-stop driving.”

Once Matt closed the bus door, you smiled at your boys, nerves suddenly radiating through your veins.

Eight hours. With a glance around the bus, you took a seat on the couch, pulling your knees to your chest. You looked around at anything but them; until you noticed Noah sit across from you.

As your eyes met him, his gaze twinkling of mischievous innocence he wore so well, a rush of anticipation warmed your chest.

The bus started to move, smoothly looping itself onto the road.

Noah, leaning over the armrest of the seat across you, smiled that charming grin of his again. Jolly was already fishing for a bottle of water in the cooler. Ruffilo swiped through pages on his phone once more, while Folio had his head bobbing lightly to the music spilling out from the speakers.

It wasn’t an awkward silence, but unspoken words and thoughts lingered.

“You okay?” asked Noah, keeping his eyes on you as if trying to read you like an open book. His nearness made your body shiver in response, images of last night flashing back into your mind.

"I'm perfectly fine," came your reply, gentle but firm.

There was a soft grunt from Jolly’s corner, causing the group to glance at him.

He commented without looking up from his water bottle, “I think we have some things to talk about.”

“Such as?” You asked, knowing what he was going to say- yet prompting him anyway.

“Us,” he shrugged now, eyes darting between each of the boys before landing on you, “What happens now?”

There was a loaded silence that wrapped the room, each one of them mulling over their thoughts. Noah shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding your gaze. Ruffilo stared blankly at his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen while Folio gently tapped his fingers to the beat of the music from the speakers, his gaze distant.

“I mean,” Ruffilo started, his voice cutting through the dense quietness like a knife. “We all agreed that this wouldn’t change anything between us.”

As if on cue, all eyes fell on you. The weight of their gazes made your heart pound against your chest and face, burning.

“But did it?” Jolly pressed on, his gaze steady. His question hung heavily between you.

You remained non-committal, much to everyone's growing frustration. But then again, you had been so calm throughout this ordeal, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred among you and the boys. 

The bet was just for fun, right? Surely, this was nothing more than a week of lust and desire… right?

You chewed on your cheek in thought, unsure now. 

"Well, did it?" Folio echoed his words barely in a whisper. His eyes shimmered with a mix of emotions, the teasing glint now replaced with uncertainty.

Silence fell upon them once more, awaiting your response. 

You looked at each of their faces. Ruffilo's expression was unreadable as he continued staring at his phone, Folio wore an almost amused smile as he bobbed his head along the rhythm of the music. Ruffilo glanced at you briefly before his eyes quickly darted back to his phone screen.

Finally, your gaze landed on Noah, who was staring back at you intently. His gaze was questioning, but there was a hint of warmth hidden beneath his serious demeanour.

You knew there was more to this than sex, and your heart pounded as the words fell from your mouth. 

"It's not that our dynamics have changed... but my feelings have."

The confession hung in the air as a new round of silence sunk into the confined space. It was filled with the hum of the bus engine and the low notes of a forgotten song playing softly from the speakers.

All eyes bore into you; curiosity, surprise, and in some, what seemed like relief reflected at you. You met each gaze in turn, holding your breath against the immensity of your declaration.

"Feelings? Toward all of us?" Ruffilo asked cautiously. His brows furrowed slightly as he studied your face for any inkling of insincerity.

You nodded, biting your lower lip nervously as you tried to gauge their reactions.

"Last night wasn't just... physical." You cleared your throat slightly, catching their almost intense attention. "I mean, it was and it wasn't simultaneously."

"Makes sense," Folio said suddenly, breaking his self-imposed silence. He shrugged a little under their stares. "I mean... feelings can catch you off-guard. It's not like you can control them. Especially in... unusual circumstances."

"Unusual? That's one way to put it," joked Jolly, trying to lighten the mood. A chuckle echoed through the bus from Noah, but the mirth quickly faded.

"I think what we really need to figure out is what you want to happen now," Noah said, leaning forward in his seat to look at you, hands lazily folded on his lap. His eyes flicked away from yours for a moment as if he was afraid to press further.

"To happen now?" You mumbled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Unease stirred within you as you tried to summon words that wouldn't disrupt the equilibrium further.

"The question is more like... do you want us?” Jolly added softly, eyes never leaving yours, "All of us? Not only for sex but more than that.”

A statement so profound left you momentarily breathless. But it wasn't fear or dread that perforated the air within the bus - it was anticipation. A tantalizing spectre of something undefined yet powerful seemed to rise from the worn carpet of the bus, coiling around each one of you, poised to strike.

Noah broke the silence, his voice barely louder than an exhale; "Is that what you want?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, your emotions stripped bare before the boys whom you had known for years. 

"Yes," you found yourself saying, gaze pinned to Noah's warm eyes, "But that doesn't mean everything just... falls into place."

"Do we take turns being your boyfriend?" Jolly asked after a beat, humour flicking through his eyes as he waited for you to react.

You scoffed playfully and rolled your own, "I don't know how it will work, Jolly."

"Neither do we,” Folio admitted, a stark rare seriousness replacing his usual aloof demeanour, “But we all want you. Last night, and the bet, was proof of that.”

"But we're willing to find a way if that's what you want," Noah chimed in, his voice gentle as he held your gaze with a hint of vulnerability.

You swallowed, the implications of what they were saying starting to sink in. Still, you found the courage to reply, "I think I'd like that.”

"What about Matt?" Ruffilo asked, looking up from his phone again to glance at you.

Your brow furrowed, "What about him?"

"He has feelings for you,” Ruffilo continued, meeting your gaze. “You know that."

“I do," you nodded, remembering the words spoken in confidence. "And I care about him. But right here, right now... it's not Matt I need an answer from." You scanned their faces one by one.

A silence stretched between you, and then, as though orchestrated, they each nodded in turn. Noah cleared his throat and played with the hem of his shirt.

“Alright," he said finally, voice steady but eyes fluttering with an array of emotions, "If that's what... if this what we’re all okay with... then we should go for it.”

This time, the silence that ensued wasn’t uncomfortable or tense. It was reflective, filled with a calm understanding and acceptance.

“Yeah,” Jolly agreed, chuckling as he tossed his water bottle from one hand to the other, “But let’s not get carried away. This needs... rules?”

“Yes, agreed,” Folio added in quickly at Jolly's suggestion. He could already see tension lines forming on Ruffilo's forehead.

“I think it’s fair to say the ground rule is honesty," he continued after a beat, "With each other and with oneself."

You nodded at his words, feeling a comforting warmth spread through you as you basked in their acceptance, their willingness to navigate this unconventional relationship.

“And respect," Ruffilo interjected abruptly, his voice a firm echo of conviction, "Respect for boundaries."

There was earnest sincerity to his words, and it moved you profoundly. He wasn't looking at his phone now. His eyes were on you, steady and unyielding.

“No one’s forcing anyone into anything," Noah added quietly. He glanced down at his hands briefly before meeting your gaze once more, "We're all here because we want to be."

A soft, comfortable silence fell as the weight of their words sunk in, each voice echoing the same sentiment: they were in this together

"Time," Jolly suddenly said, breaking the silence, "Each of us gets equal time." His tone was light, but the unexpected depth in his gaze told you he was serious about it.

"Like dates? Hangouts?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at him. This might not have been what you initially envisioned when divulging your feelings, but Jolly's suggestion made sense and even provided a fair sense of order amidst this chaos.

Jolly shrugged, "Something like that. Just to ensure no one feels left out. We can make a schedule."

There was another round of nodding from everyone, accompanied by gestures of agreement. Noah gave a thumbs-up sign, Folio hummed appreciatively from his corner and Ruffilo nodded slowly.

"Okay," you agreed with a small smile, a blush creeping into your cheeks colourfully. This was really happening, and it might be terrifyingly unknown, but you were excited, too. 

The tranquillity that swept over you all seemed to promise more than just a simple acceptance.

A moment later, Noah's phone chirped with an incoming message.

He glanced at it, expression unreadable, before passing it around without a word. The message was from Matt, the subject line reading "Guys, we need to talk."

A pause filled the air as they absorbed the brief message. It certainly added another degree of complexity to your delicate situation.

“What’s he want to talk about?" Ruffilo wondered aloud, frowning as he reread Matt’s message. 

Folio bit on his lower lip in thought, "It could be about anything… but I guarantee it’s about what we are talking about right now."

Jolly glanced down at his phone again before looking at you, "Should we tell him? About... all this? Offer him a spot if you’re willing to have one more?" He waved a hand toward the group parked in the small bus.

You considered this for a few heartbeats, "I guess we have to," you said finally, "unless we start hair-pulling for timeslots in front of him and he figures it out himself."

The comment earned chuckles from across the bus, the tension easing somewhat at your joking tone. Jolly’s laughter was the loudest, his boisterous voice echoing like a jingle bell against the battered metal of the bus interior.

“Dibs on being first then," Folio chimed in, grinning. “You know, to avoid hair-pulling."

“Noted,” Noah played along, holding his hands up in mock surrender as he tried to suppress his smile. “It’s all about fairness.”

At that moment, somehow amongst all the complexities and apprehension of what was to come, a bubble of joy swelled within you, buoyed by their good-natured bickering and warm camaraderie. It was a strange feeling - being loved by not just one person, but four... It was intoxicating and overwhelming in equal measure.

"Okay," Jolly declared, "we’ll tell Matt when we get to the venue… he’s going to want in.”

Make that five.

Noah spoke up again. “And what about jealousy?”

Your eyes widened slightly, a lump forming in your throat. That was the issue, wasn't it? The very hurdle threatening to sever this complicated web of emotions binding you all together.

“Jealousy,” Jolly repeated, chewing on the word as if tasting it for the first time. There was a thoughtful edge to his expression, followed by a shrug, "Well, we are all human, aren’t we?"

Ruffilo let out a dry chuckle at that, then sighed, "I think it's unavoidable."

Folio nodded, "Yes, but what we can avoid is letting jealousy ruin everything.”

You looked at him; his statement echoed in your mind and held true. Jealousy was an emotion no one could escape from, but how you manage it was what mattered.

“And how do we do that?” Ruffilo's voice hitched higher as he asked the million-dollar question.

“By talking it out,” Noah placed his hand on your knee, "Being honest about our feelings. If we're starting to feel...you know...possessive or if something's on your mind, say it."

Folio huffed, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned back against his seat, stretching his legs out. “Yeah, that’ll be fun. So who do you think will end up in a jealous rage first?”

You shot him a mock glare. “I’m going to personally ensure it’s you.” You paused before blushing slightly. “Besides, it's not always about possession." you pointed out and felt relieved when Folio nodded with an understanding smile.

“True,” he admitted, giving your hand a light squeeze before letting go. "It's also about the equality... of love.”

“Oof, you’re already sounding like a philosopher,” Jolly commented with a lopsided smile, teasingly poking Nick’s shoulder. This elicited a small ripple of laughter amongst the group, which helped to dissolve some of the tension that had begun to creep in.

“Can’t help it,” Folio retorted with a sheepish grin, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “When you're faced with an unconventional situation like this, it brings out the thinker in you.”

“And that's what we should do," Ruffilo chimed in, seemingly inspired by Nick’s words. "We don't have a rule book for this. We just need to...think before we act or say anything. If something doesn't feel right or if someone isn't comfortable, we need to respect that and discuss it. I mean, that's what relationships are about, right?”

You nodded along, listening intently before chewing on your bottom lip, and staring at the ground.

“Use your words, beautiful. What’s up?” Ruffilo reached over, holding onto your thigh. The touch sent a jolt of electricity up your leg, causing your stomach to churn.

“What if… what if you don’t want me… anymore?”

The bus fell into silence, the weight of your words hanging in the cool air.

After a long pause, Noah spoke up, his voice steady and comforting. “First off, stop assuming the worst. Second..." He paused to gather his thoughts before continuing. "We're all here because we care about you.”

“But what if…” You started, but Ruffilo interrupted.

“What if we turn into aliens? What if I grow a third eye?” He shrugged with a smirk playing on his lips, earning chuckles from Jolly and Folio. “What ifs can drive you crazy, princess.”

“Hey!” You swatted at him lightly, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips.

Jolly chimed in next, leaning closer to you. "Look... this whole thing is new to us too. It's unchartered territory for everyone here." He gestured towards your companions, "And it comes with its risks and uncertainties."

The vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten.

Noah’s finger gently guided your chin to turn to him, his face inches from yours, “Each of us is committed to you- and only you- from now on. It’s us and you.”

“Look," Ruffilo interjected, his voice breaking through the weighty pause that had fallen over the bus. He shifted uncomfortably, running a hand through his hair before he continued, “We all like you. We've known each other for what? Two years now? And there's just something about you..."

He trailed off indefinitely, leaving the silence to wordlessly weave itself into the fabric of your shared conversation.

“And what might that ‘something’ be?” Jolly burst out in his theatrical manner, falling against Ruffilo in exaggerated curiosity.

"It's not your cooking, that's for sure!" That earned Jolly a smack on his thick arm from Noah, while laughter echoed around the bus.

"No," Ruffilo quietly continued when the chuckling had subsided, "It's... you. It’s every little thing about you. It's the way you tilt your head when you're deep in thought. The way your eyes light up when you see someone in need and can finally help. The way..." his voice faltered slightly before he cleared his throat, "...the way you've found a place in our hearts. Fuck, its the way your mouth feels against mine and the feeling of your fingers running down my back.”

His words hung heavily in the air, “I- and the others, don’t want to even think about being with anybody else.”

Folio let out a strangled laugh, fighting bravely against his blush, "Well... Can't argue with that."

Your heart hitched at Ruffilo's raw honesty. His words conjured up an image of his grey, captivating eyes tracing your every movement, committing them to memory with a love so fierce it made your knees weak.

Jolly let out a snort full of amusement and suggestion, resting his arm over Ruffilo’s shoulders. “Did our dear Ruff just confess his undying love for our girl here?” he teased, nudging him playfully.

Ruffilo shot him an annoyed look but didn’t say anything.

“I feel the same,” You shared a smile, chewing on the inside of your cheek, “I want all of you, and no one else.”

A shared giggle erupted around the bus, light and airy and deceivingly innocent for such a bold revelation.

"Aww, guys," Folio began, grinning like a Cheshire cat, "are we having a moment right now? I feel like we're having a moment."

Jolly rolled his eyes dramatically, tossing an arm around Ruffilo. “Oh definitely. We’re all getting sappy in our old age.”

“Old? You’re the most aged,” Ruffilo shot back, swatting Jolly lightly on the arm.

Noah chuckled as he looked from face to face at his friends, shaking his head with a grin before reaching to tickle your side causing you to squeak with surprise, "Come on...we're all in this together," he added warmly.

The conversation carried on in cheerful spirits - an extension of what felt like an ever-evolving bond among all of you. There was laughter and teasing and even a few moments of quiet contemplation. As you watched the interactions, your heart so full it was nearly bursting, it dawned on you that there could be no looking back from this point.

“Well, I’m gonna take a nap,” Folio said, standing with a stretch, “As fun as last night was I barely slept on that fucking cot.”

His statement was met with scattered nods and murmurs of agreement. He flashed you a grin before heading down the hall toward his bunk, Jolly and Ruffilo following suit.

“You should sleep too,” Noah suggested to you, his voice soft in the dim light filtering through the worn curtains of the bus. He moved to sit next to you on the couch now, subtly reaching over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“I will,” you promised, nestling against him as your body tingled. The bus hummed as it travelled further, everyone else slowly drifting into their dreams. But despite the fatigue that tugged at your eyelids, you stayed awake, your mind filled with thoughts brought forth by recent confessions.

"You know," he started, his voice barely more than a breath in the quiet, "you don't have to worry about anything. We're here. We're not going away."

You hummed, nodding as you closed your eyes, sucking in a breath.

"We...we do love you," Noah whispered against your ear, his words followed by the soft touch of his lips against the side of your neck, a sweet promise painted across your skin.

With those words settling over you like a warm blanket blanketing you in the hum of the bus, sleep finally beckoned. You drifted towards it, his breath against your skin anchoring you amidst a sea of emotions.

"Noah?" You whispered, your eyelashes fluttering against his shirt.

"Hmm?" His fingers traced gentle patterns over your back, making you feel even sleepier.

"I love you too," the words tumbled out softly.

A comfortable quiet ensued, and you could make out Noah's slow smile pressed against your temple as he held you close. It was a quiet moment shared between the two of you, amplified by the thrumming energy of the tucked-away confessions. 

He pressed a soft kiss on your forehead, whispering back a response that was both warm and reassuringly subtle, "I know."

++

Your nap was short-lived as your eyes opened slowly, your body moving against the hand of the man beside you.

As you lay across Noah’s lap, you felt his fingers trace up your legs, dipping between your thighs as he gently grazed across the thin fabric of your leggings along your desire.

You froze, heart racing with excitement as he tested you further, slipping his fingers closer and closer.

"Noah..." you breathed out, his name barely louder than a sigh. A shiver ran down your spine, shooting a thrilling jolt to the pit of your stomach. He paused, one finger precariously close to where you needed him the most. His soft laughter vibrations spread from his chest into yours and he placed a reassuring kiss on your temple.

"Pardon me for taking liberties," he murmured, his fingers stilling their prodding explorations, "But I feel we have moved past formalities."

Though his words were slightly teasing, you sensed an underlying seriousness in them that caused a strange heat to spread through you in waves. You pushed back against his hand lightly in silent permission and felt him exhale a soft sigh of satisfaction against your skin.

His fingers started to move again, starting their slow and expert exploration of your form through the thin material until they reached the hem of your leggings. His touch withdrew for a moment as he looked down at you with an expectantly raised eyebrow. Heavily lidded eyes filled with a mixture of excitement and apprehension awaited your response. You nodded, your warm gaze meeting his as your fingers moved to slip the material lower.

Gently biting down on your lower lip, you glanced up to meet Noah's eyes - they were darkened, pupils dilated with desire.

The brunette resumed moving his hand in tantalizing circles between your legs. He watched your face closely as he continued with expert patience, observing the subtle shifts in your expressions, etching each detail into memory. He teased you, delicately brushing your covered skin.

Suddenly, the bus lurched as it veered onto an uneven stretch of road, causing Noah's touch to falter momentarily. His breath hitched alongside yours at the sudden movement.

"Shouldn't we... maybe find somewhere more private?" You suggested, amusement flickering in his eyes.

To that, Noah ran an inked finger along the hem of your leggings, dipping his hand between your waistband and skin to just barely touch your core.

“Doesn’t matter anymore baby. You’re ours now. We are the only ones on the bus.”

Pushing past your underwear he dipped his fingers between your folds, his breath hitching once he felt how wet you were. He chewed on his lower lip, biting back a smile as his thumb circled a slow path over the sensitive bud, every rotation drawing out a choked moan from your lips.

“Shh…” He soothed, holding onto the delicate peak until you were writhing against him, “Wouldn’t want to wake them, would you?”

"No," you murmured, though the sound came out more as a desperate whimper.

Noah's slow, teasing motions inspired a yearning within you that was almost unbearable. "No...they should sleep."

Yet, part of you hoped one of them would hear. 

"That's a good girl," Noah cooed softly, smiling down at you before sinking his fingers into your body, eliciting another choked cry. He tugged your leggings just below your ass, giving him enough room to pump his fingers mercilessly.

Gently rocking against his hand to afford yourself additional friction, he chuckled, brows furrowing in slight concentration as he adjusted his movements.

His other hand roamed up to cup your face, thumb tracing your bottom lip, "You're so beautiful like this," he murmured, leaning down to capture your lips with his own.

The kiss was open-mouthed yet achingly tender. One of Noah's hands was still buried between your legs while the other cradled the back of your head. You could taste the memory of last night's orgy from his tongue and welcome it, losing yourself entirely in the feeling of having him fill you in different ways.

The tenderness escalated quickly into a frantic pulse of desire behind one last thrust which pushed you over the edge. Pulling back from the kiss, a soft gasp slipped from your throat as your thighs tightened around Noah's hand.

"Easy, I got you," Noah whispered, his voice soothing as he rode out the waves of your climax. His fingers never stilled, drawing the pleasure out until you were shivering and whimpering beneath him with the intensity.

Breathing heavily, you watched as he pulled his hand from your body, taking his fingers into his mouth.

“Fuck,” He moaned, relishing in the taste as his hips rocked beneath you, “I love the way you taste.”

His words coiled heat in your lower belly, intensifying the ache between your legs despite the orgasm you’d just had. His mouth returned to yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue; undeniably intoxicating.

“Want you,” you told him in between pants and ragged breaths, fingers fumbling with the button on his jeans. 

Noah led you between his legs, and you slid down onto the floor, knees bent with your exposed ass in the air, tugging at his zipper to expose his arousal. 

He groaned as you wrapped your fingers around him, licking desperately from base to tip agonizingly slow.

"Noah," you murmur, repeating his name like a sacred chant. His fingers weaved through your hair as he reclined back against the seat.

Your finger wound tightly around the base of him, thumb brushing over the wet tip of his swollen cock. His breath hitched, a tortured groan escaping his lips.

You were busy deciding your next move when Noah placed his hands on either side of your face.

"Look at me," he commanded gently, leaving your dripping between your thighs as you nodded.

Lifting your lashes, you found yourself locked in his fierce gaze. His eyes were even darker than when they watched his fingers glide in and our of your pussy.

“God, I’ll never get used to how good you look on all fours,” Noah whispered huskily, a sense of pride flashing across his eyes. A jolt of exhilaration washed over you at the compliment; the image of you splayed out so wantonly displayed on the bus floor pleasing him.

Taking his cock back into your hand, you resumed stroking him once more.

“Fuck,” He murmured appreciatively, his thumb tracing your swollen lips with a light touch. Unconsciously, you parted your lips for him, allowing him to slide his thumb into the warmth of your mouth. His eyes hooded as you suckled it suggestively, a small groan escaping through his gritted teeth.

Gaining courage from his reactions, you freed your mouth from his thumb and planted a chaste kiss atop the tip of his cock, before enveloping him with the wet heat of your mouth. A strangled grumble escaped from Noah’s lips as he watched you take him in without hesitation. His arousal was evident on his face- eyes glowing with animalistic hunger, lips parted in a silent gasp.

You continued to test the waters with slow, gentle licks and soft sucks. The noises he made were encouraging, each whimper, moan and sigh fueling your movements as you grew more confident.

Noah’s hand cradled the back of your head gently, "That's it..." He murmured beneath his breath, clearly struggling to keep his voice down. "Just like that."

The taste of him was intoxicating, driving you to take him deeper. His hips bucked involuntarily, and you had to fight the urge to grin around his length.

All too quickly his voice started escalating, fragmented warnings cutting through the silence - urging you to slow down or pull away. But you wouldn’t. You needed him to come undone, to dissolve under your touch and surrender to that delicious pleasure only you could offer him.

You swallowed around him as best as you could, creating a tight suction that elicited a loud guttural groan from Noah's lips.

Just as you pulled off him, a trail of saliva dripping sensuously from your mouth, you heard a low cough come from the hallway.

Your hand stilled and you glanced up at Noah, who only smirked at the man who slowly approached you from behind.

“Thanks for the show. But I’m tired of just watching.”

You shivered, turning to face the Dummer who stood leaning against the wall, hand wrapped firmly around his arousal as he chewed on the inside of his cheek excitedly.

“You’re right Noah. I do love watching our girl spread on all fours. Especially with her pretty pussy exposed as she takes care of you.”

Your face warmed as Noah’s hand found your jaw, turning you back towards his cock. You wrapped your lips around him once again, causing his head to fall back in pleasure.

You heard Folio shuffle behind you, running his hands up your exposed thighs, encircling the shape of your ass.

"Folio," you called softly, hot breath washing over Noah’s length, causing his grip on your hair to tighten. He mumbled something incoherent under his breath but didn’t stop you; the darkened desire in his eyes told you he wanted nothing more.

Folio chuckled as he knelt behind you, his rough fingers expertly tracing the wetness between your thighs. He spread your folds apart slowly, leaning forward to allow his tongue a sample of your arousal. The jolt of pleasure caused you to gasp and jolt forward, pressing Noah's erection further into your mouth. Noah groaned at the depth and arched into you.

The bus seemed to close in on you, the heat from Noah and Folio's bodies leaving you dizzy and clouded with need.

Nick’s tongue continued its sweet torture against you, each languid lick causing your body to tremble with anticipation. With each pass of his tongue, you pushed back onto his face, desperate.

"Folio," you whimpered his name again as he teased your most intimate area. His hands took a firm grip on your hips, holding you steady as he continued his delicious torment.

"Noah," Nick murmured, pulling away from you momentarily to speak hungrily to the former. "Can't wait to see her take us both."

Noah’s groan of agreement had a slick rush pooling out of you onto Folio's waiting tongue.

His relentless strokes drew another orgasm closer within your grasp. You got lost in the sensation of his tongue and Noah's hardened length in your mouth.

You felt Folio pull away, only to replace his touch with his erection sliding between your arousal.

“How badly do you want us beautiful?” Nick’s voice was husky, thick with desire and anticipation, as he swirled his tip around your opening. You whimpered, body trembling as you tried to push back, craving for him to fill you.

“Tell us,” Noah’s commanding voice cut through your pleasure haze. You moaned around him in response.

“I- I want you,” you breathed out replacing your mouth with your hand, stroking him as you begged. “Both of you.”

"Well then," Folio murmured against the sensitive skin of your back as he lifted your shirt, "Who are we to deny you?"

He didn't waste another second before he thrust into you-- hard. Your body rocked forward at the sudden intrusion, causing Noah's cock to hit the back of your throat again.

Nick’s every thrust was met by your eager pushes, the sensation of being filled so fully driving you closer to the edge. You could hear his harsh pants, and felt his abs tensing against your back with his every movement.

With one hand on your hip and the other on your desire, Folio skillfully manipulated you to a fever pitch. His fingers circled your clit while Noah's cock thrust in and out of your mouth, time slipping along the lines of pleasure and pain.

"Noah," Folio grunted, teeth grit as they scraped against the damp skin of your shoulder. "I'm not gonna last long. She's so fucking tight."

A strange mix of cockiness and raw desperation coloured Noah's voice as he responded, "Don't you fucking dare, not until I fill her mouth.”

Folio laughed, a dark, rugged sound that vibrated through your bones and increased the pace of his thrusts. Your body tightened around him as his fingers dug into your hipbone sky-rocketing your pleasure.

Your mind blanked at the overload of sensations; even as you struggled to breathe through Noah’s relentless rhythm. The world narrowed down to the two men possessing you, their harsh breaths mingling with your own.

All at once, you were on the precipice. Your body tightened like a bowstring, the sweet tension coiling in your abdomen. 

"Noah...Folio," you moaned their names as your vision blurred.

"And there it is," Noah grunted. His hand gripped your hair tighter, and you felt his cock twitch in your mouth.

The taste of him shattered your resolve as Folio's cock stretched you wide. In unison as if orchestrated, Noah spilled into your mouth just as Folio filled you.

Your orgasm was swift and intense, rendering you senseless and quaking around the two men. Each gasp for breath painted pleasure on your senses until you were nothing but a crumpled mess between them, reeling in the aftermath of such pleasure.

When they finally pulled away, carefully untangling themselves from you, it felt like they left behind a void that ached. You swirled your tongue around the salty remnants of Noah, swallowing and collapsing forward onto your hands and knees. Your body felt spent, and yet ridiculously alive – every nerve ending tingling with satisfaction.

If this was a taste of your future, then you were ravenous for it. 

Folio wiped perspiration from his brow and helped you up only for you to flop against him, exhausted beyond words. He laughed lightly, cupping your cheek affectionately as he brushed a stray lock of hair away from your eyes.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice a low rumble that vibrated soothingly through you.

“Mmhmm…” You hummed, too content and flushed to articulate any other response. Nick leaned forward, placing a gentle yet hungry kiss against your lips.

“Maybe we should keep track of all your orgasms,” Nick chuckled again, licking his lips.

Noah nodded eagerly as his gaze was locked on you, blush tinting the bridge of his nose and cheeks.

“Come here,” He whispered, and you nodded, pulling your clothes back up and sitting next to him. Folio joined you on your other side, and you sat cradled between both boys.

“You think we broke her, Noah?” Folio teased, his voice a warm purr against your ear. His arm was draped over your lap, fingers interlocked with yours.

“You can try again later if you want," you mumbled, curling further into Noah's side.

He smoothed his hand through your hair, his heart fluttering when you sighed contentedly in response. His thumb began to draw lazy circles on your shoulder, a comforting rhythm that matched your steady, shallow breathing.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep," Folio warned playfully, grazing his teeth along your jaw.

"Would never dream of it," you replied to Folio's warning. You tilted your head, allowing him to press soft kisses along your jawline. He traced his lips down your throat, stopping just above the neckline of your shirt; another searing kiss here could so easily leave a mark.

His eyes met yours, a silent question in them that had you blushing more than your previous activities did. You nodded, permitting him. A wicked grin pulled at his lips as he pressed a kiss there, wet and heated. You knew a hickey would blossom there within the hour.

From your other side, Noah gave an approving hum, watching you and Folio with half-lidded eyes.

+++++

Matt, although slightly jealous, was happy to join your… relationship.

After arriving at the venue and hastily setting up, you approached him with a blush on your cheeks and a nervousness that seemed almost alien to the usually confident you.

“I want to talk,” you’d said, pulling him aside and tenderly taking his hands. The way you fumbled over words and avoided his gaze had Matt worried.

When you finally voiced out what was going on, the surprise in his eyes was evident. But instead of pushing you away or getting angry, he merely blinked at you, taken aback but not repulsed.

“If this is what you want, then I want it too, " he said, adjusting his cap before smiling warmly. I want you, they want you, and you want us. It makes sense, right? It may have started as a bet, but it's turned into much more.”

Even as the first blush of embarrassed desire rose in your cheeks, Matt leaned in. He whispered against your lips, his voice low and rough, "Besides, it’s not like I've never shared you before." His cheeks flushed pink at the memory and he cleared his throat.

“Well aren’t you full of surprises,” you murmured against his lips. He smirked at that, pulling you closer until there was barely any space left between the two of you.

“Only for you,” he shot back, effortlessly charming as ever. The smugness in his voice made the tips of your ears burn - but it sparked an excitement in your belly that was impossible to ignore.

“Ready for our brief soundcheck, rock gods?” he practically yelled across the green room, causing all the boys to groan in protest.

"Wouldn't be much of a band without it, would we?" Folio refuted, grinning as he grabbed the cymbal bag. The banging and clashing as he set them up served as a prelude to the havoc that would be unleashed during their performance.

Jolly rolled his eyes and stood up, slinging his guitar over his shoulder while giving you a wink that made your heart flutter, "Yea well, don't expect me to save your ass if you miss a beat, Folio."

Ruffilo scoffed from where he was tuning his bass, "Both of you talk big for a couple of amateurs."

"Wow boys, keep your egos in check or we won't be able to fit in the room," you intervened with an amused chuckle.

“Messiah has spoken,” Matt announced dramatically. 

Grinning, Ruffilo plucked a playful tune on his bass, echoing through the room.

On the other hand, Noah couldn't resist teasing you, "Oh yeah? We got to keep our egos in check?" He chuckled, leaning across the couch. 

He reached out and lightly tapped your nose with one finger, "What about you, huh? Got any confessions for us before we hit the stage?"

You swatted his hand away playfully, although your heart pounded at the warmth in his gaze.

"What could I possibly have to confess?" You scoffed, attempting to dodge. But Noah was relentless.

"Bullshit," Noah contradicted, grinning. 

"Maybe I like keeping you on your toes," you replied with a shrug and a smirk of your own. All too familiar heat rose in your cheeks when Matt interjected, "That's our girl."

"Don't ruin the moment, Matt," Folio chided, laughing even as Jolly lobbed a battery at him.

"Why not?" Matt retorted. "This is us. We're not exactly the sentimental type."

"No," Noah agreed, sliding his arm around your waist and pulling you into his side. "We're just a mess.”

“A beautiful mess,” Ruffilo added, coming to stand behind the couch. He leaned over it to ruffle your hair, messing up whatever semblance of neatness you had attempted.

You swatted his hand away, instinctively fixing your hair. “Watch it, you.”

He barked out a laugh that echoed across the room. “There’s the feisty spirit we all love.”

“Feisty?" Folio echoed with a wicked grin, "Should we be worried?"

"Or excited," Ruffilo teased. He darted forward, placing a quick peck on your forehead before stepping back with a mischievous grin.

“That’s enough boys,” Matt chided, although he was hard-pressed to hide the laughter on his own face, “We’ve got a show to do and we better fucking practice.”

“Right,” Jolly said, pulling away from you and striding towards the stage.

“Lead on, rock star,” you replied with an encouraging smile.

Matt extended his hand toward you, palm up and you took his hand, letting him lead you down the halls towards the sound booth.

After soundcheck, you all headed back to the green room for a quick break. 

“You were literally off beat bro,” Noah sighed, annoyed. Folio glared in response, nudging his shoulder.

“I literally couldn’t hear shit with my earpiece. I think it's broken.”

"I'll check it out," Matt offered, but Noah shook his head. 

“It’s alright, Folio and I will figure it out. I’ll text you when we need to be backstage. C’mon Nick.” 

Meanwhile, Jolly had surreptitiously sidled up to you, his fingers tracing circles on your arm as you entered the room.

"You doing good?" he mused. The furious blush was still evident on your cheeks and you couldn't help but fidget under his gaze. 

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine," you stammered, mustering up a weak smile, only for Ruffilo to interrupt. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and grinned at Jolly.

"Leave her alone, Casanova. Can't a girl get some peace?" Ruffilo chided with a good-natured wink directed at you. 

"Is there even such a thing as peace with you five?" you retorted, nudging him. Your response was received with a chorus of laughter that echoed down the hallway.

“Highly unlikely princess,” Ruffilo laughed.

Jolly approached you with two bottles of water, pressing one into your hand before gesturing to a seat beside him with the other. You graciously accepted both, sliding into the spot next to him. You noticed how his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, causing your face to warm.

“What?” You asked, eyes tracing his face, attempting to read his expression.

“You’re mesmerizing,” he whispered, his gaze devouring you now.

Shifting on the couch you took a sip of your water, refusing to take your eyes off of Jolly’s.

Unable to hold his gaze, your eyes flickered downwards to the floor, feeling both flattered and flustered. His lingering words left you in a tantalizing whirlwind of emotions and made you tremble with a fantastical mixture of terror and thrill.

“Come here,” He nodded, patting his lap.

You paused for a second, eyebrows raised in surprise, before complying with a silent shrug. As you settled onto his lap, Jolly’s arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you close to him.

“Comfortable?” He asked, his voice dropping to a low murmur as he leaned slightly back in the chair.

“Mmm…” was all you could manage in response as you snuggled against him. His heart was thumping against your back and you wondered if he could feel the racing pace of yours too.

As comfortable as you were now, no one else seemed to take notice of your new position. Well, except for one person. You turned towards the direction where Ruffilo was shooting glances at Jolly from the corner of his eye. A slight pang of jealousy was visible in his eyes which he masked quickly when he noticed your gaze on him.

Rather than ignoring it, you nodded at Nicholas, beckoning him forward.

“Feeling left out Ruffilo?”

He shot you a stunned look, but a playful smile danced on his lips. "Never," he declared, rising from his spot on the floor. Suddenly he pounced, tossing himself onto the couch beside Jolly, nudging your legs playfully in the process.

"Hey!" you protested with a laugh, trying to find a comfortable position amidst Ruffilo's sprawling limbs.

Jolly grinned down at you from above, enjoying your struggle. His arm tightened around your waist as if holding you in place, your back pressed flush against his chest. 

“What? Sharing is caring,” he teased, flashing you an impish grin.

The next words that left your lips spilled out faster than you could process them. “Why don’t you show me what sharing looks like?”

Challenged, Ruffilo leaned forward, angling his body towards you. He shot a quick glance at Jolly before his lips brushed against your cheek in a lingering peck that made your heart flutter. "Like that?" Ruffilo asked, the smirk evident in his voice.

Your face flushed a deep crimson, and you ineptly cleared your throat.

"Yes. Exactly like that." You managed to say, trying to keep the fluttery feeling inside under control.

Jolly leaned down, placing a kiss on your opposite cheek, allowing his hands to roam the curve of your hips.

With a careful eye, you noticed Matt leaning against the wall, taking a swig of his water as he watched you intensely.

Without much thought, you slid off Jolly's lap and onto the floor. You tiptoed ahead, biting your lower lip to hide your smirk.

"Liking the view, Matt?" You called out playfully when you were a foot away from him.

Matt choked on his water, and blushing furiously, shook his head in denial, "Wha- I wasn't - you're imagining things." He spluttered shoving the bottle to his lips again.

"Oh right!" You gasped dramatically clutching at your heart. "How could I possibly think that, considering how much you enjoyed it last night," you carried on, wagging your index finger at him admonishingly.

He glanced down at you for a moment before raising an eyebrow at your mock rebuke. "You caught me." He deadpanned.

"Always." You agreed quickly. As if prompted by some inner force, you stepped closer; so close that Matt had to bend his head down slightly to keep eye contact. His bottle suspended halfway between his lips and his grip on it growing looser, you reached up and yanked his hat off his head.

The water from his mouth gushed onto the carpet below, causing Matt to step back hurriedly, sputtering, "What the hell?"

You merely grinned at him, twirling his cap around your finger. Before he could snatch it back, you'd already made your way back to Jolly and Ruffilo on the couch. Planting yourself firmly between them, his hat resting atop your head like a crown, you smirked at Matt.

"Well, are you going to come get it?" you said slyly.

"What's the magic word?” you teased, your eyes sparkling with mischief as you lightly tapped the brim.

Matt growled in mock frustration, pointing at you with a stern look plastered on his face, “You’re lucky we have a show tonight," he warned playfully.

“We have like 20 minutes,” Jolly interjected, placing a hand on your thigh as he peered down at you, his smirk growing.

"Just enough time for some fun then," came your response, tilting your head in challenge. You could practically see the cogs turning in Matt's brain as he worked out his next course of action.

Suddenly, he lunged towards you, but you were too quick and rolled off the couch just in time. You heard a loud thump and a burst of laughter behind you as Matt ended up on the couch where you'd just been sitting.

"Smooth," Ruffilo chuckled, patting Matt on the back while Jolly struggled to contain his laughter.

Pulling yourself up from the ground, you crossed your arms and smirked down at Matt who was now sprawled across both Ruffilo and Jolly like a big blanket. "Second try?"

Matt growled again - this time less playful and more serious – as he disentangled himself from the other two guys. He stood up, eyes never leaving the cap that was now in your hands. His gaze was intense, causing a shiver of anticipation to run down your spine.

“Ready when you are.”

With a swift motion, Matt leaped toward you but you dodged him again, quickly running across the room. You laughed, thinking he was far behind until you turned around.

Two arms pinned you against the wall as his body caged yours against the wall.

"Gotcha," Matt whispered, his breath warm against your cheek. His hand moved swiftly, snagging the cap from your head and placing it backwards upon his own.

The sight of him holding you against the wall made your thighs clench tightly, his hat no longer an obstacle of space between you.

Matt’s triumphant grin faltered as he read the fire in your eyes. A strange electricity danced between you two, the banter fading into silence replaced by the sound of your rapid breaths.

"But I still got you," you whispered, your fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.

“Stop teasing me,” He mumbled, lidded eyes staring down at you with fueled desire as he dipped his face inches from yours, brushing his lips across yours.

Before you could retort, his lips crashed onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. His other hand cradled the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. The taste of him was intoxicating, sending a rush of warmth coursing through your body.

"Clock's ticking," Jolly called from the couch. A smirk danced on his lips, one that was mirrored by Ruffilo, “15 minutes now.”

“Then we better hurry up,” Matt said quickly, latching his lips to yours in swift desperation as he tugged your shirt. You immediately moaned into his lips, arching your back to press into his body.

A husked laugh rumbled from Matt's chest as he broke the kiss to nuzzle the side of your neck. His hot breaths tickled your skin, causing a shiver to run down your spine. His hands raked down your sides in an attempt to pull you closer against his chest.

Peeling you from the wall, you two walked over towards the middle of the room, now infront of Jolly and Ruffilo on the couch. As Matt began trailing kisses down your neck you tossed a smug smile towards Jolly, who chuckled lowly.

“Care to join in?” you teasingly asked Jolly, watching his eyes flicker with same mischief he seemed to evoke in you. “Or are you too afraid I might end up stealing your hat too?”

Jolly chuckled, pushing himself off from the couch with a quick shake of his head. ��Sweetheart, I’d like to see you try,” he said before stepping closer, taking place behind you.

As Matt’s lips trailed to the side of your neck, a gasp slipped past your lips as Jolly put a protective hand on your waist. His head tilted down towards you, causing your heart to pound harder against your ribs.

“Twelve minutes,” pausing Matt warned, voice strained while maintaining eye contact with Jolly, who didn’t seem fazed one bit by his reminder.

“A talented man can accomplish much in only five minutes,” he said with a nonchalant smile before he leaned down to capture your mouth in a heated kiss, his tongue tracing the bottom of your lip.

You glanced quickly at Ruffilo, telling him to lock the room door as Matt's grip on your waist tightened.

“Take my clothes off,” You mumbled against Jolly's lips, the whisper carrying an undertone of urgency. Quickly slipping his hands under your shirt, he tugged it gently over your head, throwing it carelessly onto the floor. Matt moved away momentarily to assist him, his warm fingers tracing the bare skin of your back as he unhooked your bra with practiced ease. Once again discarding the garment somewhere in the room, he moved closer still, his chest flush against yours.

"Eleven," Ruffilo called out from the couch, his own hand tracing the outline of his growing arousal beneath his slacks.

Eager fingers skimmed the waistband of your leggings, pulling them down and tossing them amongst the floor.

Matt and Jolly’s hands roamed your body as you were sandwiched between both of them, their mouths and tongues darting across your skin greedily.

Both rotated their hips into your body with asynchronous movements, curating a string of moans as their desires pressed into you.

"Ten," Ruffilo growled, his voice husky as he watched you with hooded eyes. Looking over at him, you give him a sultry grin and crooked your finger challengingly.

Jolly's hand trailed down your stomach until it converged with Matt's hand already covering you. A gasp escaped your lips as they simultaneously began exploring you further, their fingers dipping lower over your exposed skin and causing shivers to course through your body.

Jolly whispered against your ear, his hitched breath causing you to stir further back against him, rubbing against his covered erection, “You’re soaked.”

“Then do something about it,” You mumbled, staring at Matt who’s face flushed from the excitement.

Matt slipped his fingers into your core, eliciting a moan from your chest as Jolly circled your clit with his middle finger.

"Nine," Ruffilo growled, and you watched as he freed himself from his pants, stroking himself as he watched you mercilessly pressed between his friends.

Jolly nipped your neck lightly, drawing a gasp from your parted lips as Matt's fingers curled inside you.

"More," you whispered, arching your hips to meet the rhythm of their hands.

“Impatient today, are we?” Jolly murmured in your ear, but you felt him unzip his jeans along with Matt, both cocks pressed against your thigh, “Jump.””

Obliging, you allowed Jolly to lift you from behind, forearms holding you underneath the bend of your knee as he spread you open for Matt.

"Eight," Ruffilo called out, his voice tight with anticipation. You glanced over at him, noting the way he was pumping himself with an intensity that matched the thrumming excitement coursing through your veins.

Nicholas’ eyes were fixed on you as Matt positioned himself between your legs, his arousal teasing your folds before pushing into your body with need.

His moans were erotic as he relished in the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him.

With you secure in Jolly's arms, Matt pressed more deeply inside you, each slow thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You reached down to grasp at Matt's arm, his bicep flexing under your touch as he filled you with slow deliberate motions.

Jolly nodded at Matt, having him replace one of Jolly’s arms so they both held you in the air.

Sucking his fingers briefly, Jolly teased your behind with proading motions.

“Think you can show us what it takes to be a good girl and handle two cocks?”

You leaned your head back onto Jolly’s shoulder and blinked up him, even as you gripped tighter to Matt- your breath hitching as you felt the cool slickness of the swedes fingers against your other entrance.

Jolly's grin was positively predatory, his eyes aflame with a need that mirrored your own. You nodded mutely, your body arching on instinct as he began nudging at your tight hole with one slick digit.

“Only if you can make me cum before Nick gets down to 3,” You moaned, brows furrowed as Matt pounded into you.

"Seven," Ruffilo called out again from the couch, his voice hoarser. His tight grip on his arousal and the desperation threading in his gaze made you bite down on your lower lip, the anticipation prickling under your skin.

"Challenge accepted," Jolly said, pushing his cock against you from behind. His head tipped back against the stress of having to delay himself, and once he finally sunk into your body your stomach butterflied with need.

Matt’s grip tightened around your thighs as you clenched around him due to the additional pressure. He moaned your name loudly, his teeth gritting in an attempt to hold back his orgasm.

“Fuck,” they both swore in unison as they watched each other disappear in and out of your body. Their shared rhythm faltered but quickly caught up again amidst groans of pleasure, their breaths hot and humid on your flushed skin. As they started following a synchronized pace, you could not tell where one ended and another began inside you.

Holding onto Matt’s shoulders for stability you cried out their names, completely overwhelmed as both pounded into you greedily.

"Six," Ruffilo rasped out, his voice strained from the feverish pace he was setting. The sight of you between his friends, being taken so thoroughly, was pushing him to the very brink. He never took his eyes away from the spectacle, his hand moving over himself swiftly and unrelentingly.

"I'm- I'm close," you whimpered, your fingers slipping from the sweat-soaked hair at Matt's nape to grip onto Jolly's muscular arm. The simultaneous stimulation was driving you towards a precipice of release faster than you'd anticipated. A sharp gasp left your lips as Jolly drove deeper into you, hitting a spot that made your vision blur.

"S...Five," Ruffilo's voice cracked against the constant onslaught of pleasure laced visions before his eyes. He watched as Matt's jaw clenched, just as desperate to hold back as he was himself.

“Hold on, love,” Jolly growled in your ear, “Give

us another moment.” Matt punctuated his plea with a particularly forceful thrust that made you bounce in their hold. You moan loudly, your fingers involuntarily digging into Jolly's arm.

"Fuck!" Jolly swore, feeling the first clench of your impending orgasm. The intense pleasure shot through your body as you tightened around them both.

"Four," Ruffilo's voice was nothing more than a whisper, almost obscured by the desperate sounds coming from the three of you. He was teetering on the edge, his hand working in time with Matt and Jolly’s vigorous pace.

Jolly accelerated his rhythm, the wet slapping sound of his skin against yours mingling with your frenzied cries of pleasure. Matt mirrored his movements, the two working as one to push you toward release.

"Three!” Ruffilo's voice barely held onto the last shred of control he had left, his free hand gripped tightly onto the armrest of the couch.

Jolly held you tighter, teeth gritted as he buried himself to the hilt inside you. The angle allowed him to brush against that sensitive spot within you once more, eliciting a choked moan from your lips. Pure bliss ran through your body as you let go.

“Fuck,” Matt exclaimed as he took in the sight of your body arched back, legs writhering and shaking against his hold as he kept them spread with Jolly.

Your next scream reverberated through the room, a raw and primal sound signaling your climax. Matt and Jolly barely had time to react before they were being squeezed tightly by your convulsing inner walls, the sensation pulling them over the edge with you. Both their movements were erratic before stilling abruptly, spilling inside of you with mangled breaths.

"Fuck-" Matt stuttered out haltingly between clenched teeth. Jolly bit the side of your neck gently, his teeth grazing the sensitive hickey Folio left earlier.

"One," Ruffilo choked out which caused you to stare at him hungrily.

“Wait Nicky-” you begged, allowing Jolly and Matt to lower you to the ground.

Ropes of their cum dripped between your thighs as you stood up shakily, but the sight of Ruffilo, so close to his own release, kept you rooted.

His eyes were wide with desperation and arousal as you inched closer to him; his focused gaze never once strayed from your sinful body getting closer.

"Z..Zero," he managed to breathe out just as you knelt before him, your lips scant inches from the tip of his cock. His eyes were pleading, awaiting your next move.

Without needing any further invitation, you opened your mouth towards his waiting desire.

"No..." Ruffilo swallowed hard, his voice a whisper among the heated gasps and pants of the room. His cock was throbbing, but he held himself back at the last moment, gripping your shoulder firmly. "Not like this..."

There was a pause when everyone else in the room seemed to hold their breaths, chests heaving from their own climaxes as they watched the interchange between you and Ruffilo.

"Up," Ruffilo ordered in a low voice, his fingers tracing over the curve of your ass as you clambered onto his lap.

Without any hesitation you sunk down onto his arousal, his head falling back in relief.

You cried again over the feeling of Nicholas filling you right after Matt released inside your body, leaving you clenching your thighs at the thought.

As you rocked on his lap, each movement was filled with a world of pleasure. Your lips met his in a feverish kiss, muffling your sweet moans that trickled into his mouth. His hands were on your waist, guiding your rhythm with determined fervor.

“H-How are you.. so full…” Ruffilo slurred out although the question was halfway lost amidst the gasping moans of your coupling.

"It's them,” you gasped against his lips, tilting your head back as he rolled his hips upward, forcing a high pitched whimper from your throat. "You taste - fuck, Nicky - you taste them?”

The thought drove him wild and he could only groan as he pistoned into you with renewed vigor, his mind clouded over with hot lust. His fingers dug into your hips as he pulled you down harder onto him every time he thrust up.

A knock on the door sounded and you heard the door knob jiggle; but nothing could pull you away from Nick’s cock as he thrust into your body from below.

“Ignore it,” Ruffilo rasped, his fingers now delving deeper into your flesh, “Fuck the time.”

But the knock came again, this time louder, a worrisome addition to the symphony of pleasure echoing through the room.

“Guys? Open the door,” You heard Noah yell from the other side, “I need Y/N’s help.”

"Ignore him," Ruffilo commanded, his thumb tracing over your shivering belly that was full of their mixed cum. His teeth grazed the tender bud on your chest, drawing a desperate cry from you.

You glanced at the door, a pang of worry dancing in your chest…yet the persistent knocks and Noah’s voice only served to amplify the decadent pleasure you were feeling – it was a sinful thrill, performing something so intimate, so intense, with three men, while another begged for entrance.

But Ruffilo was focused too much on your body, and the sounds it made in response to his. He gnawed at your hard nipple while the other hand trailed down, tracing over the curve of your hip bone and around the juncture where he thrust into you.

"Forget Noah," he said with clenched teeth. His breath was hot against your damp skin and you felt a tingling sensation start from your center.

You shook your head in protest, ready to beg Matt to open the door- but with one final thrust all you saw was stars, your vision clouded from Ruffilo’s cock buried inside as another orgasm was pulled from you.

Ruffilo was not far after, his body freezing as his nails dug into your hips, spilling inside of you.

Both of you gasped in unison, panting heavily as shockwaves of pleasure coursed through your bodies. Ruffilo slowly loosened his grip on your hips, falling back against the couch as he held you close to his heaving chest.

"Noah...I swear," Ruffilo hissed between breaths, a low growl resonating in his throat.

"Open the damn door!" Noah shouted again, the desperation in his voice more apparent than before, “we are on stage any fucking minute!”

Jolly walked over and turned the nob, allowing Noah and Folio to enter; both froze when they saw you splayed on the couch, face flushed and body dripping.

Noah's brow furrowed as he took in the sight before him, his gaze darting between your spent body and Ruffilo who was still buried deep within you. Folio however, simply raised an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest.

“Having fun, are we?” he sarcastically asked, leaning against the door frame.

Ruffilo grumbled something under his breath, but otherwise made no move to untangle himself from you. You could feel a blush creeping up your cheeks under their scrutiny but all you managed to do was whimper, closing your eyes as aftershock rode through your veins.

However, once you pulled away from Nick and finally stood up, you couldn’t help but feel shy under Noah and Folio’s intense gaze.

“Locking the fucking door was not cool,” Noah said, folding his arms.

Jolly laughed, shaking his head, “What if Bryan came in? What if another crew member did?”

Folio shrugged, “Yea well when we ask you to open the door, do it. Don’t leave us out.”

"Noah, Folio... Relax," Matt managed to say in between his chuckles, finally gaining some breath back. His smirk was wide and lopsided from the sidelines, naked under the dimly lit room with a sheen of perspiration matting his chest hair.

Jolly, leaning against the door frame now, rolled his eyes, "Seriously, guys. Have a bit of patience, will ya? We were in the middle of something." He walked back towards you, placing a protective hand on your waist as you struggled to keep standing.

“Fuck off Jolly,” Noah snarled, glaring at him with burning eyes, “This isn’t about patience.”

“And what is it about then?” Ruffilo snapped back from the couch.

“It’s about fucking respect.” Noah shot back, leaving no room for argument in his tone.

Everyone fell silent as Noah's words echoed around the room.

Rule one of this relationship: respect.

A bitter taste filled the air as Noah's words echoed. He spoke out, pointing a firm finger toward Ruffilo still lounging on the couch, “We all agreed to this…thing because we’d respect each other. It's not just about getting our rocks off.”

Noah then turned his gaze to you, softening ever so slightly, "And it's not just about respecting one another," he said quietly, almost a whisper but loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, "It's about respecting her too."

You said nothing, standing there with Jolly’s hand still wrapped around your waist, warm and protective. You could feel every eye in the room upon you; their intense gazes made you feel even more raw and exposed than before.

"I needed to talk to her about the ear pieces and we are literally going on stage any minute," Noah continued after a heavy silence had filled the room again. “But you guys ignored me. Like you’re the only ones that matter. We still have a fucking job to do: and that job is not getting off minutes before a show.”

You chewed on your lip as Jolly finished helping you dress, and ran a hand through your disheveled hair.

Noah sighed, continuing, “It’s not necessarily about the sex; like yea, I’d love to have joined or what the fuck ever,” he said, glancing at you briefly before looking at his band mates, “But to make this shit work, we need to listen to everyone in this relationship.”

"Fine, we fucked up." Matt finally conceded, crossing his arms and leaning back onto the couch. "Next time we'll remember to let you in, Noah."

"I can't believe we're having this discussion right now." Jolly interjected, pinching the bridge of his nose, "A literal stand-off because we didn't let Noah into the room."

"This isn't about locking a door," Ruffilo said, "This is about control."

"What?" Noah's brows knitted in confusion, taken aback by his accusations, “the fuck does that mean?”

"You want control over this --" Ruffilo gestured vaguely to Jolly and you "--you want control over her."

"No!" Noah shouted, his face reddening as he pointed a trembling finger at Ruffilo, "Don't turn this around on me! This isn't about control; it's about, fuck..." He groaned in frustration, stuffing his hands into his hair.

"It's about boundaries. There are five of us here - all with the same level of ownership, the same rights, and the same responsibilities."

The room fell silent again for a minute before Folio sighed heavily. "Maybe we're looking at this the wrong way," he suggested, "I want everyone to feel equal in this relationship." He looked around the room between you and each of the men, his fiery gaze finally resting on you.

There was a moment's pause, then the click of a microphone being switched on followed by a low, distorted voice echoing over the sound system: "Bad omens on stage in two. Meet back stage."

The room, which had moments ago been echoing with tension, turned to sudden urgency. All thoughts and discussions of boundaries and power dynamics were put on pause.

"Guess we gotta go," Folio said, breaking the silence.

Jolly’s hand slipped away from your waist as he swooped down to grab his leather jacket; Matt hastily buttoned his shirt, while Ruffilo went over to the couch and began pulling on his boots.

Noah grumbled under his breath and nodded stiffly at you, his usually easy-going demeanor replaced with a stoic facade. Before turning on his heel and moving toward the door, his words floated back towards you, "We'll talk about this later."

You felt a pang of regret pinch your heart as you looked at each man striding out of the room; their bodies tense, their spirits subdued. You realized then what an enormous impact this conversation had on all of them. This wasn't just about a closed door or establishing boundaries, it was about setting the course for the unfamiliar and complex journey you were all embarked on together. This was a relationship shaded in harmonies and discord.

Just like their music, it was a composition of distinct individuals striving for harmony, yet not losing themselves within it.

Folio turned his head towards you at the doorway, his eyes lingering on yours as though waiting for some form of assurance. You nodded, forcing a small smile onto your lips, an affirmation that this conversation was necessary and beneficial in the long run. A promise, whispered through that fleeting contact: we will navigate this complicated score together.

+++++

note 2: I have no idea if this is what you guys wanted :-: lol, but this is the turn I took to build upon some more plot I guess since it was a requested a few times about delving into the actual relationship aspect. I do really appreciate the love this has gotten, especially considering I wrote the bet as a oneshot. Yet, here we are lol. Thank you so much for taking the time to read!

+

tags:

@xxkittenkissesxx @deathblacksmoke @nyxisnotok @anameunmusical @sitkowski

@sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @thefallennightmare

@whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @veronicaphoenix @lacy1986 @calleyx13

@somewhere-diamond @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak

@darkmxgician @sprokat @xserenax-13

@philomenie @into-the-grey @amelia-acero @blend-in-with-the-madness @rumoured-whispers @anything-more-than-human

@fuck-me-muke @fadingangelwisp @tosoundlessdarkistare

[ineffable-romantics]

Some thoughts on why and how I believe Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship would incorporate sex/why I do not read them as wholly asexual:

This is something I've seen the most discourse about in this fandom, and I've had a few thoughts of my own that I really wanted to expand upon in a full meta/character analysis post. I do understand that this can be a contentious topic, so first, let me clarify a few things:

First of all, this is going to be long. Tbh it probably won't be that organized either. I ramble and I'm not very good at editing, so just... you know. Be warned. (*Hi, it's me from 2 days after writing this; I'm really not kidding, it's LONG)

These are all my own thoughts. They might not be hot takes, because recently I've seen more than a few people come to the same conclusions on a lot of these points as I have. But I've also had these notes in my drafts for about a week and a half now, and have been continuously adding to it as things have occurred to me. This post is essentially just somewhere for me to collect the separate but related meta I've been kicking around in my head.

I fully respect anyone who does see and prefer an asexual reading of this relationship. These are my own thoughts and interpretations as someone who is not asexual. I am in the LGBT+ community, so while I do know a few things about the asexuality spectrum, I am by no means an expert.

This is NOT something I expect, need, or even necessarily want the show (or, God forbid, Neil's tumblr ask box) to address. Tonally, it's just not that kind of show. Newt and Anathema's sex scene was very much played for laughs, and it worked for that reason. If the show found a way to address it in a way that was both appropriate for the tone of the show and ultimately satisfying, then great! But there is so much more to this relationship than sex, and I didn't need a kiss to confirm their love, so I certainly don't need a sex scene. As immortal beings (as I assume they'll stay) there is so much of the rest of their lives we'll never get to see. You can headcanon them as asexual and potentially be right. I can headcanon them as not and be equally potentially right. Again, these are just a collection of my own thoughts, because I think the question of sexuality (or lack thereof) is just as interesting a facet of these characters as any other.

Note: Tbh I've been second-guessing this whole post and debated deleting the whole thing several times for being silly or unnecessary, bc I don't want anyone to think that this is the only thing I care about when it comes to this story/characters. But if nothing else, it's inspired me to write in a way that nothing has in a very long time, so I've decided it's worth continuing, if for no other reason than that.

This is going to be a mixed bag of textual reading, subtextual reading, and a full-on reach or two. It's been a while since I've been in an English class, but if my teachers expected me to find a deeper meaning behind blue curtains, you can expect me to read too deeply into the symbolism of a loaded rifle or an ox rib. (This is probably not what my professors had in mind when grading my literary analysis papers but oh well) My point is, if it feels like a reach, I'm as aware of it as you are. I am in no way saying that all (or even any) of my points made were deliberate on the part of Neil or the actors or the writers or the directors. I am no longer the delulu Apple Tree Yard child of my youth, I promise.

If anything said here is in any way offensive or hurtful to anyone in the asexual community, please do not hesitate to message me or comment and let me know exactly what it was. I promise you it is not my intention to do so, and am happy to clarify or outright edit anything that reads that way.

With all that being said, let's talk about why I think Crowley and Aziraphale would absolutely fuck nasty incorporate sex into their relationship.

Note: I am out of practice with essay writing, so I think I'll just go down the bullet points of notes I have been making, and expand on each as best I can

Food

Where better to start than with Aziraphale's introduction to Pleasures Of The Flesh? (Just a heads up, this entire post may feel very Aziraphale-heavy, and with good reason).

This might be the least hot take here. We've all seen the Job minisode. We've all seen That Scene.

Whether this was intentional or not, the symbolism here is off the charts. Eve was tempted by an apple. So why not go a similar route and tempt Aziraphale with another fruit, or cheese, or bread, or literally anything else for his first experience with food? Instead, we go with a huge, glistening slab of fresh meat that he proceeds to absolutely go feral upon, moaning and gasping into his meal while Crowley watches with what definitely doesn't look to be disgust or even satisfaction with a good temptation. There's surprise at the ferocity of Aziraphale's appetite, certainly. But ultimately he looks to be intensely fascinated by it, while the thunder crashes, the music crescendos, and the earth literally shakes around them.

(It's also interesting to note how very little it takes for Crowley to tempt him with the ox rib. One murmured suggestion, a bit of unwavering eye contact, and vavoom Aziraphale immediately meets him in the middle.)

Cut to Aziraphale devouring the rest of the meat with Crowley splayed back on a makeshift bed, drinking wine and continuing to watch him indulge through half-lidded eyes. Outside a thunderstorm rages while they're learning secrets about each other in warm flickering firelight. It's cosy, it's intimate, and if they'd thrown in a bearskin throw blanket, it might as well be a post-coital scene straight out of Game of Thrones.

The next time (chronologically) we see them discuss food is when Aziraphale "tempts" Crowley with oysters in Rome. So Crowley first tempts Aziraphale with meat and then Aziraphale tempts Crowley with what is widely regarded to be an aphrodisiac. Interesting.

And then chronologically after that, the Arrangement begins to form, which has always reeked of a friends with benefits situation. Just to throw that in there.

It's What Humans Do

In the very first episode, we're shown Gabriel's obvious disgust and bewilderment towards Aziraphale eating sushi, calling it "gross matter" and being proud of the fact that he does not sully his body with it. Aziraphale initially tries to defend his own enjoyment in it, before passing it off as something that humans do, as something he simply has to do in order to blend in (which we know very well is not the case).

He does this again in season 2, passing off Nina and Maggie being in love as "something humans do". But it isn't, is it? Angels are beings of love, and can sense it, and understand very well what it is... up to a point. Even romantic love is obviously within their wheelhouse, given what we now know happened between Gabriel and Beelzebub (we'll come back to them).

What the "humans do" that angels wouldn't understand is messy, physical forms of love.

But here's the thing: Aziraphale and Crowley love doing what the humans do. They love drinking, they (or at least Aziraphale) love eating. They love music. Crowley loves driving and sleeping and watching rom-coms and sitcoms. Aziraphale loves reading and doing magic and earning little licenses and certificates for achievement in his various hobbies. They love to playact at being human so much that they've stopped playacting and started building a genuinely human lifestyle for themselves and with each other.

Once together in an unambiguously romantic sense, why do we think they wouldn't also want to explore one of the most prominent, intimate, powerful human expressions of love and desire with each other?

Angels, Demons, & Asexuality

Here's where I really want to clarify that in no way do I mean that sex is necessary for a healthy, fulfilling, and loving romantic relationship, or that the lack of desire for sex makes you any less human. Asexuality is a sexuality as valid and human as any. What I would say is that it is definitely in the human minority compared to allosexuality.

Angels and demons, on the other hand, are predominately asexual. Sexless/genderless unless Making An Effort. (Which, btw, is a concept introduced as early as the original book; why even bring it up as a possibility? Why not keep angels/demons being sexless/asexual as a hard and fast rule, if not to open up the potential for later use? Chekhov's Effort, if you will. And isn't that something that Aziraphale in particular is shown to do time and time again? He makes an effort in French and driving and magic, doesn't he?)

And this is why I don't believe Aziraphale and Crowley necessarily need to be asexual, narratively. There is already a huge amount of ace rep within the angels and demons (and no, not just the horrible ones. Muriel also doesn't "drink the tea" and has no reason or desire thus far to Make An Effort, and there are certainly other angels and demons who aren't horrible like the archangels seem to be who likely wouldn't Make An Effort either).

The central conflict for Aziraphale and Crowley is that they are on their own side, the ones who went native, the ones who are so different in so many ways from their respective hives. It would make sense for them to also break away from traditional angel/demon asexuality.

I say "traditional angel/demon asexuality", because I would also like to note that I would absolutely not rule out demisexuality for either of them. This post is being written to as a response to people who specifically believe that they (like the rest of the angels/demons seem to be) would be sex-averse in a relationship, and that it wouldn't be a factor in their relationship. I could easily read them as demisexual, but I do think there would be no real way of verifying this, because they've never been able to form as close an emotional relationship with anyone else but each other. Certainly not in heaven, and I can't imagine they would be able to form that kind of attachment with any of the humans, who they love and emulate but ultimately regard as the separate species they are. So yes, they could either be allosexual or demisexual, in my opinion.

Then again, now that I think about it, Making An Effort itself could be a great metaphor for demisexuality, since they would be entirely sexless/asexual until they have enough of an emotional connection with someone to consciously manifest otherwise. Since the other angels and demons don't generally form those types of emotional connections with anyone, there hasn't been a precedent for it.

Except...

Brielzebub

We do have a precedent for it now, don't we? Gabriel and Beelzebub fell in love. They are a direct foil for Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship, speedrunning right through their courtship and finding their happily ever after on the other side of things.

For being such a 1 to 1 comparison, it feels deliberate that they did not kiss. They held hands, they were gooey with each other, but they did not kiss. That feels like such a deliberate thing to omit when you know what's to come at the end of the episode between Crowley and Aziraphale.

And going back to the food = sex metaphor for a moment, let's notice how even as they fell in love over the years, even when pints and crisps were there on the table in front of them, they never felt the desire to reach out for them. They didn't need to. It's a date (love story) even if you aren't eating dinner (sleeping together).

Yes, I know Jim liked hot chocolate. No, I am not counting it because I don't consider Jim and Gabriel to be the same person with the same proclivities, and Jim was highly suggestible at the time anyway.

Gabriel and Brielzebub's big happily ever after moment (as of now) was one between two asexual supernatural beings. They did not need to kiss to drive the point home. They showed what Crowley and Aziraphale could have, if they would only acknowledge it.

Crowley & Aziraphale's Dissatisfaction

But they do have that already, don't they? If you really think about it, what do Gabriel and Beelzebub do with each other that Crowley and Aziraphale don't already? They hold hands, they spend time together, they create little rituals, they give gifts, they're visibly and verbally affectionate with each other, etc. They are more or less already in a romantic asexual marriage relationship with each other, aren't they?

And it doesn't seem to be enough for either of them.

At the beginning of the season, Crowley is immediately shown to be unsatisfied with the way things are. Obviously part of it comes from living in his car, but it seems to be more than that (especially since Aziraphale makes it clear that the bookshop is just as much Crowley's as his, implying that he could have been living there the whole time and is choosing not to, for some reason?). You could argue he's feeling unmoored without Hell telling him what to do, but isn't that what he wanted? Isn't that what he still wants, by the end of the season? All season long, he's never indicated the desire for a new job, or a new project. He stopped the apocalypse because he wanted the freedom to openly spend time with Aziraphale, to spend his time on Earth however he sees fit. Until Gabriel arrives, he has exactly that (minus a flat).

So where does the dissatisfaction come from? And if it represents anything to do with his relationship, what does he want out of it that he isn't getting already?

I think Crowley only really comes to the realisation of what he's missing when Nina names it for him, not only putting them in the category of romantic, but physical (outright asking if they are sleeping together). These two posts [1], [2] go into more detail about what I mean, but I think it really pushes him into acknowledging that their relationship is more human than either of them have stopped to consider, and what that might mean as far as everything a human relationship can entail.

After all, Nina and Maggie only advised that he should talk to Aziraphale, make clear his feelings. The decision to kiss him, to tip them over the edge from nonphysical to physical, that was all him. And no, kissing isn't sex, but I wonder how taboo even that might be in the kind of all-encompassing asexuality most angels seem to identify with. (If they're disgusted by food and drink, I can only imagine what they think of snogging, much less sex.)

Aziraphale doesn't have this moment of someone observing their relationship from the outside. He loves Crowley, and as of 1941 probably even knows he's in love with him in a way that Crowley doesn't understand yet. Which makes sense, since love is technically his job, he'd be more likely to recognise it for what it is.

However, Aziraphale's reference for romance and relationships is Jane Austen. It's chaste. It's dancing and dinner and doing sweet things for each other and roses and candles and handholding. He contextualises his love for Crowley in that soft fantasy sort of way, where it's there, it's obviously there, but it's neat and easy and unspoken. Not to quote Glee in this, the year of our lord 2023, but it's all very "the touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets".

Someone should tell that to Aziraphale's face, then.

I'm not going to pretend I know what Michael Sheen's script notes were, but there were definitely some Choices™ made. Because yes, there were plenty of moments in both seasons with Aziraphale looking at Crowley in a sweet, loving, smitten way. And then there were moments that were yearning.

But yearning for what, exactly? All of those sappy Jane Austen tropes already apply to the two of them. So why are there moments where Aziraphale is looking Crowley up and down like the last eclair in the window and licking his lips and visibly exhaling like he's trying to get in control of himself (see: Bastille scene + Crowley telling Muriel to ask him if they have any other questions about love)? Why is Aziraphale not only unconcerned when Crowley shoves him bodily up against a wall in s1, but staring at his lips and a beat too late in noticing Sister Mary's arrival? Why are some of his lines so suggestive? I'm sorry, but the car ride after the church explosion might as well have been the beginning of a Pizza Man porn with a really weird Blitz theme. If even my mother picked up on that vibe, I can't imagine it wasn't intentional on part of both the dialogue and the delivery.

(This section may feel like more of a reach/joke, but I'm really only 20% joking. These are writers and actors who are EXTREMELY good at their jobs; they know what they were doing here.)

More importantly, I don't think Aziraphale is even aware that there is more to what he wants. He lives in the Jane Austen fantasy and it never even occurs to him that he might be interested in anything further. It never even occurs to him that, as an angel, there is anything further to be interested in in the first place. Until Crowley forces it to occur to him. Just like I believe Nina forced Crowley to confront the idea that romantic love is what he's been feeling all along, I believe Crowley forced Aziraphale to confront the idea that physical intimacy is something he's been wanting, without even realising.

Aziraphale's Hedonism

Expanding on Aziraphale for a moment. We talked about his relationship with food, but we all know that Aziraphale is defined by his love of things that Feel Good.

It isn't just that he and Crowley love human things. Aziraphale loves the best of the best, or at least his version of it. He doesn't just love food, he loves going to fancy restaurants. He doesn't just love clothes, he loves soft, cosy, warm, plush clothes, or shiny, flashy, bougie fashion. He loves the warmth of tea and cocoa, loves getting drunk, and sitting in a comfy chair in the sunlight. He doesn't just experience, he indulges.

Given the emphasis put on things that Aziraphale loves just because they Feel Good, it feels narratively strange to assume that he wouldn't enjoy the feeling of being touched, or that he wouldn't be willing to try it, at least once, with someone he cared very deeply for. And just like the ox rib, I think that once he gets the first taste of things, he would absolutely tip over into complete and utter self-indulgence.

Dancing

I also think that dancing could be construed as a huge metaphor here. After all, we're told flat-out that angels don't Dance. Except one.

I would argue that Aziraphale, in fact, Made An Effort to learn how to Dance. He threw himself into the gavotte with delight (at a Victorian gay club; noted) and worked hard to be good at it. He's chomping at the bit to Dance with Crowley, working up the nerve to ask him with undeniably romantic intent and eagerness. So, angels don't Dance... unless they Make An Effort to do so.

We are told that demons, on the other hand, do Dance, but not well. Makes sense, since they're the ones who would want to encourage a deadly sin like lust, but have as little understanding of human love and physical intimacy as the angels. Crowley, however, is shown to be an excellent dancer at the ball, especially in his compatibility with Aziraphale.

(But Aziraphale WandaVisioned the ball so everyone knew how to dance! Yes, he did. However, the rest of the brainwashing doesn't seem to affect Crowley in any way, and they did actually live through the time period where this sort of dancing was a social norm; I'd be surprised if he never needed to learn. After all, the demons can't spell either, and Crowley is at least functionally literate, as far as we know.)

As of today, it's also been confirmed that when Aziraphale asked Crowley to dance, Crowley replied with "you don't dance." Not "WE don't dance". So going along with the metaphor, Crowley is just now discovering that Dancing is something Aziraphale is interested in at all, much less with him, and not denying that he himself is interested in Dancing. In his defense, I believe he was asleep for a few years while Aziraphale was learning the gavotte, so he wasn't exactly aware of Aziraphale's hot girl summer.

Love Languages

I want to expand on that; Crowley and Aziraphale's compatibility. Specifically in regards to their individual love languages.

We all know Crowley's love language is Acts of Service. I don't think there's any debate there. He loves it, Aziraphale loves it, they're both aware of it, we're all aware of it, God and Satan are aware of it, no surprise there.

You may disagree with me, but I believe Aziraphale's love language is Physical Touch, for a number of reasons. One of which being his aforementioned hedonism. Aziraphale likes things that Feel Good, remember? He likes soft clothes, and well-worn books. Neil himself has said that they like holding hands. And any time he is taken by surprise (Brielzebub getting together, the wave of love in Tadfield, etc.) what is the first thing he does? Reaches out for Crowley. He stops him with a hand to the chest in the pub. He leads him by the hand to the dance floor. He guides him by the waist in the graveyard. He reaches out during the entire Brielzebub scene, whether he can reach Crowley or not. Despite his own turmoil, he grasps at Crowley's back during the kiss.

The one time Crowley reaches out for him (not counting the kiss yet; we'll get there), he is aggressively pushed against a wall (by someone he loves and trusts) with a complete and utter lack of concern (and perhaps some interest, depending on how you read it).

And when he isn't reaching out for anyone, or there isn't anyone to reach out to? Well, he's wringing his own hands together, squeezing his own fingers, as if to find that physical comfort in himself.

So. With that theory in mind, we have Aziraphale (Physical Touch) + Crowley (Acts of Service). Throw in 6000+ years of deep love, cherished companionship, and forcibly repressed longing, and there is a very real potential of this combination resulting in fierce sexual compatibility. Where Aziraphale would want to touch and be touched, to indulge in physical pleasure with someone he adores, in the same the way he indulges in every other fine thing in his life. And where Crowley would want to indulge him in return, to give him everything he wants, and to take pleasure in Aziraphale's pleasure, in the same way he enjoys watching him take joy in food everything else.

So Aziraphale is an angel who is insecure about his own less-than-holy desires, who would want to treat Crowley like a luxury to be touched and cherished and adored. And Crowley is a demon who has, over the millennia, been unhappy about how they've been forced to deny even their friendship with each other, who would want Aziraphale to feel comfortable and safe and encouraged to indulge in earthly delights. That sounds like a stunning recipe for sexual compatibility to me.

"You said 'trust me'" / "And you did"

Just like the Job minisode, the Blitz is RIFE with symbolism (intentional or otherwise). This one will be quick, but I did want to touch on it because I thought it was interesting. Maybe I'm reaching at this point, but I'm assuming you read the tin.

First of all, Crowley not wanting to admit to never firing a gun before; comes off as someone who very much does not want to admit to their crush that they're a virgin ("You must have done this lots of times!" / "Umm.... yyyyyeah.")

(You could make the argument that Aziraphale having a firearms license and a Derringer in a hollowed-out book is symbolic of him not being a virgin while Crowley is. I disagree, for reasons I'll go into later, but it's a valid reading. However, I see it more like keeping a condom in your wallet; it's there in case you need it, but the opportunity has not yet risen no pun intended.)

More importantly, the theme of this entire minisode is trust. We already know they trust each other with their lives against the rest of Heaven, Hell, and the world. But specifically, this is about the importance of having complete trust in your partner in a charged, physically vulnerable, intimate moment, where the only danger is between the two of you.

Aziraphale needs to believe Crowley would never hurt him if he can help it. Crowley needs to trust Aziraphale's unwavering blind faith in him. Frankly, it all feels very symbolic of two people deeply in love losing their respective virginities with each other.

The trick is a success, and they share an intimate candlelit dinner in which they reaffirm their faith in each other. Aziraphale also begins to voice his agreement with Crowley, that maybe Heaven's rules shouldn't have to be as black and white as they are, and that there are benefits to... blurring the lines, shades of grey, wink wink (at which point even my mom was like, whoa guys, this is a family show).

Btw also: Can we all agree how much it looked like Crowley was getting ready to get a lapdance in that one scene? You know the one.

Also also: "Aim for my mouth"? Come on.

The Birds & The Bees

Now that I think of it, there's also something to be said for the fact that Crowley and Aziraphale are both obviously familiar with where babies come from (how they're made and how they're born) while the other angels aren't.

Something something Aziraphale and Crowley fundamentally understand sex and reproduction in a way the other angels (and probably demons) very much do not, nor have any desire to.

Probably not important. Just thought it was worth mentioning.

The Kiss™ & Religious Trauma

The Kiss. Where to even begin?

This has definitely been the hardest one to start, because there is so much going on here that I definitely won't be able to cover it all, and will certainly miss a few things here and there.

Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss afterwards is the most interesting to me. And I don't mean directly after, I don't mean the "I forgive you" part. I mean the way he touches his lips when Crowley is no longer in the room and he no longer needs to save face, when he is completely alone. Had it been directly after the kiss, it would have been rightfully read as horror, or disgust, a shield to discourage further action.

It's not. It isn't just a touch, it's a press. As desperate and angry and unexpected and imperfect as the kiss had been, Aziraphale is pressing it into himself, recreating the feeling as best he can. Beneath all the poor timing and shock and hurt from their fight and fallout, I think it's fair to say that it was something he enjoyed. Something he doesn't think he should enjoy, something that Feels Good that he only allows himself to indulge in when completely alone.

Remember, Aziraphale's idea of love is Jane Austen and gentleness and courtship and fantasy. If he'd ever even considered kissing an option, it might have been gentle pecks, cheek kisses, forehead kiss, hand kisses. Soft, safe, chaste affection.

Crowley's kiss turns all of that on its head. He introduces physical intimacy in a very real, very messy, very human way that I don't think Aziraphale ever even considered could apply to them. Considering what other angels are like and what they look down on, even Aziraphale's Jane Austen fantasies probably would have been considered taboo.

So for their first kiss to be rough and desperate and passionate in the way it was, of course he was confused and in shock. It was deeply physical, and as overwhelming and awful as it was in the moment, it Felt Good. Enough that he grasped at Crowley and kissed back, if only just for a moment, before stopping himself. Enough that he actively pressed it into his lips afterwards, in private, to remember.

I adore how Neil has decided to evolve these characters past the first book/season. More so in this season, Aziraphale and Crowley have both become such interesting allegories for queer people on either side of the spectrum of toxic religion. Aziraphale in particular obviously, because he is the side that so desperately wants to believe, to make a difference, and to unlearn all of the propaganda he's been fed over such a long time. Just like so much of organised religion, there is so much that he is told, time and time again, that he should not want, that he is silly or stupid or outright wrong for wanting. It reminds me so much of the severe Catholic guilt one might feel for wanting/engaging in sex for the first time, and the stigma of being queer layered on top of that.

What is so critical to Aziraphale's character is that he goes on wanting, and more than that, actively pursues. He was convinced to go up against Heaven and Hell and stop all of Armageddon because he wanted to go on listening to music and eating lunch and reading books and enjoying the simple company of the person he cares most deeply for, even if that person is supposed to be the enemy.

All this to say that if angels are as generally asexual/sex-averse as I believe them to be, narratively speaking, it would make sense for Aziraphale to be singular in that regard as well. Mirroring his first experience with food, it would make sense for Crowley to be the one to first introduce this new messy, physical, human dynamic between them, for Aziraphale to hesitate (obviously we are at the Hesitation phase at the moment), and then (eventually) for him to dive in wholeheartedly, to absolutely glut himself on this new thing that Feels Good. It would make sense for his character development to show him overcoming his metaphorical Catholic guilt and pursuing the sexual intimacy most (if not all) of the other angels would scorn.

(I can't help but remember that plot idea Neil described from the unwritten sequel, with Aziraphale in a hotel room trying to watch a full porno by way of the free 2-minute teaser clips so he wasn't technically sinning by paying for it. I so hope this is used in season 3, because gosh, I wonder why Aziraphale would suddenly be so interested in observing human physical intimacy after 6,000 years. Lonely and doing a little surreptitious research there, angel?)

Crowley, on the other hand, is the queer person who has broken free from his toxic religion. He prides himself on being his own person, on their his own side. He doesn't have the hang-ups Aziraphale does. He doesn't worry that he's going to be judged or cast aside for wanting things he's not supposed to. So it only makes sense for him to be the first one to suggest/initiate physical intimacy. It makes sense for him to be the one who "goes too fast" (another fantastic example of this dynamic beginning as early as s1; what is that conversation in the car meant to represent, if not Aziraphale being overwhelmed by the intensity of their relationship, and his fear of succumbing to it when he believes he shouldn't? It's also interesting that this is the first conversation to take place in Soho, just after watching Aziraphale realise he's caught feelings for a demon, with the red glow of lust serving as the backdrop).

Do I think the kiss in and of itself was sexual? No. I think it was a passionate and devastating last-ditch effort on Crowley's part to convey the way he feels for Aziraphale. Not just that he loves him, but that he loves him in the most human way possible. But I do think that the kiss represents how they can move forward from here, and what they might want to explore with each other once they feel free enough to do so.

In Conclusion

I am sure, deep in my bones (unless we are explicitly told otherwise), that this was both of their first kisses no, I'm not counting the gavotte, and that neither of them have ever thought to do anything else physical with the humans while they have been on Earth. Like I said before, they adore the human race and lifestyle in general, but ultimately view them as a separate species altogether, and they seem mostly happy to keep to themselves and each other, unless otherwise necessary. I just can't see either of them being drawn enough to a human to pursue anything close to sex. If Crowley in particular has had anything to do with sex in the context of temptations, I'm positive he would be inciting lust amongst the humans themselves, not involving himself directly. At least not that directly.

So, like every other human experience they've had on Earth, sex is something new that they could explore together, just the two of them, on their own side. A deeply intimate, tangible declaration of their love and everything they've gone through to earn it. A visceral finger to give both Heaven and Hell. A renewed appreciation for their corporations and for each other's. A enjoyable method for immortal beings to simply pass the time in each other's company. A new and exciting way to Feel Good, and all the variations that come with it.

You might agree with this post, or you might not. Whether this is something that is ever addressed or not, it doesn't matter to me. This is a brilliant love story either way, and I genuinely feel so privileged to witness it.

But I just can't find it in myself to imagine, given everything we know about these two characters, that sex isn't an experience they would both consume with wholehearted enthusiasm, curiosity, and profound, ineffable adoration.

___________________________________

Bonus feature: the very silly notes I made to myself that inspired this post

[loveharlow]

↷ ⋯ ♡ᵎ BURN (NOTHING BREAKS LIKE A HEART)

JJ Maybank x Fem!Carrera!Reader [ more jj content ]

SYNOPSIS & WC‧₊˚ [2.9k] Six months after the wedding that broke your heart, the one thing you needed to never happen...happened, and you don't know whether you should feel guilty or grateful.

WARNING(S) & A/N ‧₊˚ part 2 to satisfied, based on first burn (not burn, but it still works) from the hamilton musical but i'd recommend listening to nothing breaks like heart by miley or reflections by the nbhd, swearing, emotional infidelity, deception, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, sibling discourse

THE MAYBANK HOME WAS WARM, a stark contrast to the biting February wind howling outside. You and your friends were gathered in the living room of Kiara and JJ's somewhat newlywed house, a rare night of relative peace. John B was strumming a guitar on the loveseat as Pope and Cleo made more hot chocolate in the kitchen while Sarah attempted to teach JJ a card game at the kitchen island. 

“I’m so glad you could make it.” Kiara smiled at you from her place on the couch, next to you. The group of you were wearing matching pajamas, embracing the approaching winter spirit. “I was so upset when mom told me you were moving to the Mainland. I knew you'd been thinking about it but...I don't know, I thought I’d never see you again.” She pouted, a mug of marshmallow-flooded hot chocolate clasped between both of her hands.

You scoffed, shaking your head and unwrapping a piece of chocolate. “Oh, please. I’ll always come to visit.” You assured, shrugging and tossing the sweet candy into your mouth, pushing it against the inside of your cheek so you could speak. “I just…I don’t know, I think I just need to be somewhere else for a bit. You know? Change in scenery...” You said, peering at your sister through your eyelashes. 

The truth wasn’t that you needed to be away necessarily, you just couldn’t stay here. Staying in Kildare, driving by Kiara and JJ’s house everyday on your way to work or catching them at the local grocery store was starting to wear on your heart. It was starting to become too much. 

Every day you wondered if your decisions and the predicament they landed you in made you a better or worse person. An amazing or terrible sister. Or maybe it was something in between, you didn’t know.

“No, I get it. I mean, I get it now.” She corrected, sipping her beverage. “I was just hoping you’d live down the street from me forever. When JJ and I have kids, I wanted to be able to drive five minutes down the road and drop them off to you without warning.” She joked with a bright smile and a light laugh, one which you struggled to match. Her words were like a shot to your gut. They physically hurt. Hearing them, picturing them…

It’d been almost six months since you stood up in front of a crowd and lied to their faces. Six months since you lost complete control of yourself outside of that reception tent, finally telling the truth to JJ when it was all too late.

Swallowing your pride, you spoke. “How’s that going by the way? You and JJ? Enjoying the married life?” You hated yourself for asking.

“Umm..” Kiara stalled, tucking her curls behind her ear and staring down at her lap. “It’s different.” She said, cringing to herself. “I’m happy, I am.” She assured, eyes going wide at the thought of you potentially taking her hesitation the wrong way as she glanced at the blonde across the living room. “But..he just always seems like he’s somewhere else. Like he’s here, but I don’t feel like he’s here with me, you know?” She said, voice dropping almost to a whisper. “I asked mom about it and she said to give it time but…Y/N, it’s been six months and nothing’s changed. He’s the best. He takes care of me and tells me everything I want to hear but...something is just off. I can feel it.”

You just nodded at your sister’s words, briefly glancing at the blonde as he spoke enthusiastically with Sarah. There was nothing you could tell her, that wouldn’t be a lie anyway, to ease her worries. Just as slowly as your resolve was crumbling, you wondered if JJ’s was doing the same.

“...But, that’s marriage, I guess.” Kiara gained your attention once again, her lips drawn into a thin line as she took a long sip from her decorative mug. “I’ll just keep trying to get through to him.”

“I mean, it is JJ you’re married to.” You said softly, setting a hand on her knee. “He usually needs more time than most people do for most things.” You smiled pitifully. 

“You have a point.” Kiara agreed, dismissing the argument as her eyes found the christmas cards on the living room table. “Oh! We have to sign the Christmas cards for mom and dad.” She remembered, standing from the sofa and setting her mug down. “She hasn’t let us live down forgetting last year.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes and nodding in agreement. “I think there’s some pens in JJ’s office. He always asks me not to touch anything in there but he’ll live.” She rolled her brown eyes, pursuing her lips. “I’ll be right back.” She excused herself, skipping down the hall of their home to enter her husband’s office. 

You made idle conversation with John B, who was seated on the loveseat across from you as you waited for Kiara to return. As time passed and still no sign of her, you got up and approached the four people in the kitchen, walking into the middle of Cleo and Pope bickering.

“No one likes peppermint hot chocolate, man!” Cleo protested, a look of disgust on her features. “That’s crazy.”

Pope smiled at her repulsion, dropping a candy cane into his mug. “What’s crazy is the amount of whipped cream on top of yours.” He pointed, sipping his beverage. “Would you like some hot chocolate with that-ouch!”

“Shut up.” Cleo mumbled, lightly swatting Pope’s arm. You laughed at their antics, turning at the sound of Sarah calling your name.

“Hm?” You answered, raising your eyebrows, trying to ignore JJ’s burning gaze from his place next to Sarah.

“Where’d your sister go? She was begging us to start Secret Santa and now she’s nowhere to be found.” She sassed playfully.

“Hey, don’t blame me for her attention span.” You threw a hand up in mock surrender. “She’s getting some pens from the office for us to sign our parent’s cards-”

“What?” JJ interrupted, you looking to him just in time to see his shoulders go square, face flushing red.

“...She went into your office to-” You started more slowly, not understanding his sudden terror before he was moving like a man gone mad — pushing his barstool out from underneath the counter so fast it screeched, almost tipping over as he rounded the island.

“Hey! What is wrong with you?” Sarah protested, half of the cards from the game they were playing being knocked on the floor just as Kie emerged from down the hall, stopping JJ in his tracks — the blonde looking disheveled as they stood in front of one another.

Kiara stood silent. In her hands were what looked to be a handful of envelopes, suffocated in her fist as she looked at JJ like he was the devil himself. JJ’s eyes fleeted between Kiara’s face and the papers in her hands, suddenly coming to a realization. The rest of you went silent, wondering what was happening.

“...Guys?” Pope spoke up, breaking the tense silence that entered the room out of nowhere as John B entered the kitchen from where he was secluded in the living room. “What’s goin’ on?”

Kiara’s solemn gaze slowly scanned the room until her sad, brown eyes landed on you in the middle of the kitchen, holding up the papers in her hand.

“Did you know about this?” She hissed, eyes squinting in your direction.

Your eyebrows pinched in on themselves slightly, eyes darting around to all of the other people in the room before speaking, suddenly feeling anxious and confused as you hugged yourself. “Did I know about what?”

“These letters.” She snapped, feet carrying her swiftly to you as your friends crowded in between the two of you, sound of protests from them not knowing exactly what was happening still. “The letters in my fucking hand-!”

“She didn’t know, Kie.” JJ spoke from where he hadn’t moved an inch, a hand in his hair and the most forlorn look on his face you’d ever seen. 

“Bullshit.” Kiara spat, turning around to face him and unballing the papers in her hand. “They’re written to her-”

“I never sent any of them.” He asserted, his annoyance growing with no one but himself. The rest of you stood watching, wanting to know what Kiara was seething about but not wanting to get in the middle of whatever this was. “Okay? She didn’t know….” JJ trailed off, his blue eyes drifting over everyone else in the room to look at you. His eyes were glossed over, sending you a pleading gaze. He looked sorry. But for what?

The kitchen suddenly felt suffocating. The warmth of the house, once comforting, now felt overwhelming. The lightheartedly, familial setting of the evening had evaporated. 

“Kie,” Sarah started, approaching her friend and putting a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Kiara asked as if the question burned her, stepping away from Sarah’s touch. “What’s wrong is I just found a stack of love letters-”

“Kiara...” JJ tried, dragging his hands down his face.

“Written from JJ to my fucking sister.” She ignored him.

You were fairly certain your heart dropped at her words. This was the first you’d heard of these letters. How could letters be written to you that you'd never received? More importantly, why did Kiara of all people have to be the one to find them?

Clutched in her grasp were letters that detailed JJ’s love for a woman other than herself. Letters that outlined his love, a love so profound, for not only another woman, but a woman she’d grown up with. A woman she shared a life, a home, a family with — her own sister. He’d wrote of your laugh, your smile, your spirit, the life he’d dreamed of with you. The same life Kiara had dreamed of with him. He wrote of his feelings for you, feelings that, to him, were inevitable and irrefutable. Eternal. Unwavering. She didn’t even know he knew half of the words scribbled on the pages she’d read.

But the most damning revelation was the reason for their marriage, outlined in a letter written only a month after their marriage. In a particularly heart-wrenching passage, JJ confessed that he'd married Kiara only because you, in your ‘selfless desire’ to protect your sister. JJ, trapped between his love for you and his loyalty to your wishes, had made a choice. A choice that now lay exposed in Kiara's trembling hands.

"They were hidden in a drawer in his office." Kiara said, her voice trembling as tears fell.

An even more suffocating silence filled the room. The air crackled with awkwardness and anxiousness but Kiara noticed the lack of…disbelief. The lack of shock. She reeled back at the lack of reaction and anger that matched her own, looking at everyone single person in the room. “Why do none of you looked surprised?” She snapped, throwing her hands out as you all glanced at each other, lowering your heads and letting out sighs. Your reactions almost as if… 

“You knew.” Kiara scoffed, letting her shoulders fall.

“Kie…” You tried, taking one step forward, but she ignored you, turning away and talking to the wall. 

“You all fucking knew.” She hissed, turning back around and serving the group of you the meanest glare she’d ever given anyone — especially you. “You,” She started, pointing at you and approaching you, stopping less than a foot in front of you as you held back tears. “You’re my sister. And you-” She stopped herself, huffing as tears continued to fall from her eyes. 

You clenched your jaw, fighting your own tears as she whipped around to storm in JJ’s direction, throwing the collection of papers at his chest. “You told me you loved me and you lied.” She seethed, getting in JJ’s face. “You married me because she didn’t tell you not to. Do you know how fucked up that is?”

JJ flinched, the truth hitting him like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to speak, to deny, to explain, but the words caught in his throat. He couldn't lie. Not anymore.

"I thought... I thought I could make it work," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I thought if I was with you, if I built a life with you, it would be enough. But it wasn't. It's not..." He looked at you for a moment, a moment too long for Kiara.

“Do not look at her.” She snapped, lightly pushing his shoulder back. “Look at me.” She cried. “You’ve looked at me and lied for almost six years now. So, look at me now and tell the truth.”

JJ’s eyes filled with a desperate sorrow. "...I never meant to hurt you, Kie. You have to believe me. I never wanted this-"

“Well that much is clear.” She gritted out, eyes never leaving his own unless it was to look at you, still standing, feet planted to the floor in the kitchen. 

Kiara's anger reached a fever pitch. The hurt, the betrayal, the years of feeling like something was missing, all coalesced into a burning rage. She snatched the letters from where they'd fallen on the floor as the rest of you watched with slack jaws and teary, guilt-filled eyes, her hands trembling as she held them. You were all at fault in some aspect.

“I should’ve known...” She mumbled angrily to herself, pushing past all of you to enter the living room, approaching the fireplace. “I should’ve known that night at that stupid party all those years ago.” She threw the first letter in, then the second. “I should’ve known when you kept looking at her during our goddamn wedding.” She threw the letters into the flames, one by one, watching as the fire consumed the words of love and longing that were never meant for her. The room was filled with the acrid smell of burning paper, a symbolic destruction of the life she thought she had. “I should’ve known when you disappeared during our reception and I found the two of you outside. God, I am so stupid-”

“Kie, please...” You attempted to ground your sister, a hand on her arm. Her skin was scorching, burning with unadulterated anger as she roughly pushed you off.

“Do not touch me!” She screamed at you, whipping around to look at you – your noses almost touching. “I bet you think you’re some kind of hero, don’t you?” She taunted, her tone darker than you’d ever heard it. “Always trying to be the better sister. The good sister.” She scoffed, looking you up and down. “You’re not.” She took a step closer to you, her eyes blazing as you remained silent, letting her get her frustrations out. 

As the last letter turned to ash, Kiara to both you and JJ, her face a mask of pain and pure anger. "Whatever you two have going on, consider me no longer a part of it." She said, her voice low and dangerous. "Pretending might be your thing,” She threw at JJ. “But it’s not mine. So, I'm done. I'm not pretending we're one big happy family when you've both been lying to me for years." She cried, her anger only growing as all you stood before, silent and ridden with guilt.

“...Get out.” She snarled, crossing her arms — meeting each of your eyes one by one. 

“Just…hold on a second…” John B intervened, taking one step forward.

“Yeah, Kie, let’s just think about this, okay?” Sarah tried as well.

“No. I’m not thinking about anything, I’m not talking about anything with any of you. Get out-”

“There’s a lot happenin' right now...” Cleo finally gathered the courage to try and calm down the girl.

“Cleo’s right. We have to-”

“Kiara, I-” You had finally overcome the lump in your throat to speak just as Kiara broke.

“I said get out!” She bellowed — cheeks flushed crimson red, tearful eyes strained as her hands swung at her sides, balled into tight, painful fists.

Ignoring her wishes, you stepped into her space. “...I thought I was doing the right thing.” Kiara simply shook her head at your words, face twisting with hurt.

“And at what point did you realize you weren’t?” She countered, voice watery. You grew silent at her question, Kiara nodding resentfully at your silence. “Right.”

Kiara didn't continue to wait around for a response. She turned, snatched her car keys from the table by the door and walked out of the house, slamming the door open behind her with a force that rattled the windows. You and your friends stood in stunned silence for a moment, the warmth of the evening replaced by a chilling emptiness.

You didn’t hesitate in attempting to follow after her when you were halted by a hand on your arm, turning around to find JJ — tearful and silent, but something similar to relief was floating in his eyes. Out of instinct, you snatched yourself away from him as the tears in your own eyes finally spilled over.

Your friends all worried around you — cursing, groaning, and sighing. You simply stood before JJ, jaw clenched and fingernails digging into the palms of your hands, eyes blazing with a village of emotions your couldn’t quite place. The blonde never looked away from you as you stared him down, not knowing what you wanted to do when you broke — lip quivering as a sob broke past your lips and your forehead fell against his chest as you hugged yourself.

JJ wound his arms around you, pulling you against himself as he laid his head a top yours. He felt guilty, for more reasons than one — but mostly because, as you sobbed against his chest at the very real possibility of never talking to your sister again, he only found himself solemnly grateful that he could finally hold you.

JJ Maybank Taglist in replies!

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

©loveharlow

[hqwkeyes]

I've seen all the discourse lately regarding Bob's character depiction in fics, and I was initially going to keep my opinion to myself. I've been in this fandom for quite a while now and I don't enjoy drama or getting involved in it, but this feels like more than that. So, while I am putting my two cents in, I will not be arguing with anyone about this. This isn’t me “going after” anyone. This isn’t a call-out post. Simply giving my own opinion on the matter, and maybe a new perspective on all of this. But yeah, this is gonna be a little long.

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse, mentions of domestic abuse, brief (like the briefest) mentions of potentially dubious consent (in the link), thunderbolts* spoilers ofc

First of all, I think it’s important to note that fanfiction is free. It is someone willingly sharing their writing with the public. And a lot of these writers, especially those for Thunderbolts, are new to writing and maybe new to the MCU. This is all supposed to be fun. If someone is depicting a character in a way that is harmless but also just doesn’t meet your preference, or you think it’s out of character, that’s okay. We can move along and read/write something that we find more agreeable. There is a stark difference between criticizing someone’s work and critiquing it, and I think that’s a line that perhaps we all need to remember. It’s one thing if someone’s writing is harmful in some way, but there is no need to be plain mean about others’ work simply because you imagined something differently than they did.

Now, getting to the main point. I’ve seen people talk about particular details of Bob’s character. And let’s be honest here, the majority of fanfiction about Bob is going to be using speculation and headcanon because we just don’t know enough about his character. We did this with Bucky Barnes for years before TFATWS, which is when, at least I think, we finally got to see some real details about his character and his personality in the MCU. The same goes for so many other characters in the MCU, and Bob is no different.

People have largely been upset about writers infantilizing Bob, and while I do think there are cases of that out there, I think it’s important to take into consideration what we actually do know about his character:

Yes, Bob is a grown man. He is in his late-20s/early-30s. He also experienced domestic abuse throughout his childhood and consistent drug abuse from childhood into his adulthood. And that is on top of mental illness, presumably bipolar disorder and depression. All of these factors could very well have impacted his development. Meaning that potentially stuttering or stammering here and there could be possible. That also can be normal for the everyday person. There is a difference between stuttering and having a stutter. People stutter all the time, and it often goes unnoticed. I personally think going overboard with that—and some people do—doesn’t necessarily seem in-character for him, but that’s my opinion, and I simply won’t read or write that. Again, I do, however, think a stutter or stammer here and there could be used as more of him being flustered or trying to verbalize a thought in a situation, as this is something anyone might do (more on that here). And I most definitely do not think stuttering makes someone seem childlike. That, to me, is offensive. And that is infantilization, ironically.

We have seen Bob shut down. “Always making things worse.” That’s someone with a confidence issue of some sort. Being told that from a young age and really, truly believing it. It’s reasonable to believe he might stutter or stumble over his words at times, or hesitate when speaking. If you think about it, it really could make sense for his character. And I do believe he stutters/stammers at least once or twice in the movie, though it could easily go unnoticed.

As for the “Bob can’t be a virgin” point, I just don’t think that’s true. Adults can absolutely be virgins. That definitely is not infantilizing him. We don’t know many details of Bob’s life prior to Malaysia, or his sexuality. And correlating his virginity, or lack thereof, to his drug abuse is also an interesting presumption. I think it could be safe to assume either. This post makes some really great points regarding this topic. At the end of the day, if you don’t want to read about virgin!Bob, then don’t. Again, fanfiction is free, and I’m sure there are other fics out there you might enjoy. But no one is being harmed by virgin!Bob and it isn’t going against canon either.

Regarding Bob being depicted as a soft, sweet, maybe shy character, I don’t think that is necessarily infantilizing on its own either. He can be kind and sensitive and affectionate, and still be assertive at times, still swear, still be sarcastic, and he’s still incredibly capable. He can be all of those things. At the end of the day, he’s a person. People have more than one personality trait, more than one emotion, and they can absolutely act differently with different people. Why can’t he be soft and sweet? Because he’s been through so much? Because he’s a man? I genuinely don’t understand that, and I honestly don’t want to. If you like super sweet, fluffy Bob fics, then cool! If you prefer wayy less of that, there are plenty of fics out there for you too!

And I’ll say here: I absolutely have seen a fic or two where I felt they were infantilizing Bob, whether they intended to or not. Writing him like a kid who couldn’t do things for himself. Writing like the others have to police him. Writing like he is just sweet but incapable. And I don’t agree with it. But to say he can’t do or be the above things because he’s a grown man is a blatant misconception. And yeah, he might need help from the others sometimes. Bipolar disorder and depression are not easy to live with or manage sometimes, and I like to think that the others look out for him and help him when he needs it. I mean, they brought him with them to keep an eye on him. They are there to support him.

Anyway, that’s my take. No hate to anyone, just looking at Bob with a broader scope.

[actiniumwrites]

knots

synopsis: lyney has been head over heels in love with you since the two of you were only ten years old. the only problem? you're friends with lynette and not him. so he spends the next 8-9 years pining over you with seemingly unrequited feelings

characters: lyney x gn!reader

wc: 2.1k

warnings: angst to fluff, misunderstandings, happy ending, best friend's brother trope, an insane amount of obliviousness and pining, idiots to lovers pretty much, the ending is kinda rushed

disclaimer: i know character ages in genshin are a rather controversial topic of discourse within the community. i personally think of lyney and lynette to be around 18-19 years old and i do mention age in this fic as it follows a bit of a timeline. if this somehow bothers you, please just don't read or try to start an argument over it in my comments

notes: THIS IS SO CUTE IM SOBBING 🤧 i did throw in a lot of angst though i'm so sorry but i saw the opportunity and took it. the end is fluffy (and kind of rushed sorry) though‼️ the title is also inspired by lacy by olivia rodrigo as i think it's very fitting for this fic. thank you for the request! (this is my third time posting this cause the first time it didn't show up in the tags)

Lyney was jealous as a kid. It was hard not for him to be when him and Lynette were first introduced to you and you had barely even acknowledged him. He was only ten at the time, but he was so excited to make new friends outside of the House of the Hearth that he was stunned when you had only really talked to Lynette. You had only ever offered him a small wave and a smile to go along with it before running off with Lynette.

It wasn’t fair in his eyes. He was the one more interested in you anyway, not her. She had merely tagged along because he forced her too. Now here she was stealing his potential friends.

You’d clicked instantly with her. Both of you were more on the quiet and shy side, contrasting Lyney’s sunny and outgoing personality. You both liked the same foods, the same clothing, the same everything. Lyney wanted to share those with you too, but it was hard when his tastes differed from yours and you didn’t seem to pay much interest in him anyway.

And growing up, he’d always been around. You’d hang out with all of them, don’t get it twisted. It wasn’t like you’d ever told him he couldn’t spend time with you guys. In fact, you often spent a lot of time together. You were sweet. You loved helping them with their magic tricks, even though they normally failed since you were all thirteen by the time they really began taking it seriously. You’d pretend to be shocked when they guessed your card, despite knowing exactly how the trick worked. You’d be on standby when they performed more dangerous tricks. Hell, you were even an assistant for them nearly eighty-percent of the time.

Lyney was grateful for it all, but he still couldn’t shake the ever growing crush on you he’d developed three years ago when you first met. He wanted you to be closer with him more than his sister. It was selfish, he was well aware of that, but he was the one with a crush. Not Lynette.

Lyney was the one to pick you up and put a bandaid on your knees when you fell at the playground. Lyney was the one to always share his snacks with you, even when you usually said no. Lyney was the one to always sit next to you when you were feeling a little down and let his knee rest quietly against yours, hoping you wouldn’t pull yours away. Lyney was the one who was in love with you by the time you all turned 18.

When the fateful performance happened and they were revealed to be Fatui to the general public, he was sure you’d leave them for good. You had obviously known they were Fatui, but you didn’t know of the extent to which they acted, the crimes they had committed. In your eyes, they were only in training, because that was all they had told you. As close as you were to them, they could never let you know the full details. It was against the rules.

Lyney was so sure you’d up and leave that it was the second time he had ever truly felt anxiety in his life — his sister being taken was the first, but here you were making him feel that horrible pounding in his chest all over again. He was so sure that the ache in his chest would have to make room for more than just jealousy, but grief among heartbreak. That you’d look at them in fear and never speak to them ever again. That he’d never get to profess his love to you.

You proved him wrong, and rather unexpectedly so. You’d shown up to every second of their trial and helped the traveler out as best you could to exonerate them. You’d stuck by their side through it all and made sure they were alright. He was so surprised you almost made him cry.

When they were freed from it all and the crisis was solved, you’d only hugged Lynette and Freminet. That was the part that stung the most. But at this age, Lyney was too nervous around you. How could he not be? You were so pretty and sweet and kind that he didn’t know what to do, especially when he was confused as to where he stood with you. You were all of those things and more with everyone. Everyone but him.

So he pulls away.

He doesn’t want to. God, he’s so in love with you he doesn’t want to ever spend a second away from you, but you never reciprocate any of it. So perhaps, he decides one day, it’d be best to just move on and focus on other things. Lynette could have you to herself and he’d find someone else, no matter how much he wanted you the most.

And you hate it, because well, you’re confused. Which sounds unfair, and in some ways it is, but Lyney was a special light in your life that you couldn’t get too close to. Not because you didn’t want to. No. Of course not. He didn’t realize that you were too scared to. You were so different that you shied away from him, despite feeling all the same toward him. He was like the sun and if you got too close to him, you were scared he’d burn you.

Lynette pushed you toward him regularly. You never seemed to escape her late night gossip sessions where she told you all about how her brother was practically drooling over how good you looked or how sweet you were. You found it endearing while she found it disgusting. Despite it all, though, you had confided in her about your crush on him as well, but how terrified you were to try to actually approach him. She almost slapped you right then and there.

Lynette thinks you’re both stupid. And she’s right. Because now you’re both stuck in a huge misunderstanding. Lyney thinks you hate him and you think he hates you. Could anyone really blame her for being so annoyed?

“You need to talk to him,” she finally breaks one day, about to pass out in her chair from her social energy running out just from hearing about the entire situation nonstop for the past week. You stare at her mortified as she gives you an unimpressed stare.

You nearly choke on the drink you were sipping on just a moment ago, catching a few passerby’s attention as you do, “Why do I have to be the one to say something?! He’s the one that started avoiding me!”

“Are you dense?”

“No?”

She stares at you for a long minute and sighs.

“You’re both idiots. He likes you. You like him. You were too shy to say anything and now he’s decided to move on,” she explains, unimpressed. Did you really not see it after all these years?

“Move on? What?” you place your hands on the table in front of you, panic swimming in your eyes. It all hits you so fast you feel your heart practically about to burst out of your chest.

“I have to go, sorry!” you jump out of your chair, yelling a string of apologies from behind you as you run from the cafe.

It takes you an hour to find him after your conversation with Lynette ends abruptly. Freminet was nice enough to let you know Lyney had gone down to the outskirts of the main city to work on some magic tools by the beach. It was just an excuse to get away. All three of you knew it, but Lyney wasn’t the type to say how he truly feels in fear of being a bad leader.

You wished he had said something sooner. Though perhaps you should’ve been the one to take notice long ago that his advances were more than just friendly.

You suddenly feel regret build up in your stomach at the way you treated him all these years. You were so afraid of your feelings you sabotaged yourself in the process and unknowingly hurt him too.

You find him sitting in the sand, legs crossed as he quietly fiddles with a few parts for some magic props.

“Mind if I sit?” you practically whisper from beside him. Lyney doesn’t even look at you. It’s cold and and unlike him and must be exactly how you looked all these years. He nods anyway.

You watch the waves crash in front of you. Over and over again as they grow closer with the deepening hours of the night. The stars reflect gently upon each and every one of them yet you can’t get yourself to focus on them.

You fidget with a small flower in your hands. It was tucked away gently in your pocket, the petals sticking out to prevent it from getting crushed. It’s a vibrant pink and even with its petals closed for the night, it still looks beautiful in your hand. It reminds you of all the times Lyney had dropped the very same ones at your doorstep or somehow tucked away on a piece of your clothing without you noticing. You hadn’t bothered to look into the meaning back then. You never knew rainbow roses were a declaration of love.

Lyney still sits quietly next to you, now messing with the hat he had taken off when you arrived. His lavender eyes avoid yours, but you don’t hesitate to drop the flower gently into his hands.

“I never knew the meaning of these,” you turn to him and say softly. Your eyes match your voice and he knows you’re telling the truth, even if he doesn’t want to believe it. When he doesn’t move to touch it, nor get rid of it, you speak again, “It’s uh…it’s for you. I picked it on the way here. I thought you’d maybe like it.”

He finally picks it up and turns toward you, a mixture of emotions pooling in his eyes. You see the anger, the fear, the pain, and the love all at once. You wish you had seen it all sooner.

“Why are you giving this to me?” Lyney asks quietly. It comes off a little colder than he’d like, you see it in the way he winces after. You only stare at him with a sad, but hopeful look in your eyes. You couldn’t take back the past, but perhaps you could change the future.

Quietly, you take it from him and tuck it above his ear. He’d done the same to you one time, only it was part of a show and you thought it was just for the act. Oh how oblivious you were back then. “You know what it means to give someone one of these. Lyney, I…I never meant to push you away all these years. I was just scared because I liked you, and Lynette was easier to get closer to than face my feelings for you. Even if we were just ten years old. It was immature and for that, I’m sorry.”

It’s quiet for a moment before his face brightens a bit, “Do you really mean it? You’ve really liked me all these years? Or are you just saying all this to make me feel better?”

You nod, confirming your words and he breaks out into laughter. A sound you’ve dearly missed. Sadness doesn’t suit Lyney.

“Can I…?” He says scooting closer to you, eyes glancing in between yours before falling to your lips. You nod, a small laugh escaping you as you lean in to meet him half way.

Lyney’s lips are soft against yours as he kisses you eagerly. You reciprocate the feeling, matching his pace until you both pull apart out of breath. You laugh nervously standing up and extending a hand, “Wanna go home?”

Lyney jumps up, his hand in yours and nods. He interlaces his fingers with yours tightly, not letting you go after all these missed out years.

When you return to the House of the Hearth, Lyney turns and places one last kiss to your lips. It’s short and sweet and lets you know that he’ll definitely be seeing you tomorrow. You turn and walk away after, wishing him a goodnight as you do. But before you can walk away completely and turns and shouts, “7 PM tomorrow at the Hotel Debourd! I’ll pick you up!”

Lynette appears behind him suddenly, rolling her eyes and waving to you before shutting the door on her twin, “You’re hopeless, brother.”

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Finnick's younger sibling and being reaped four years after his Games

Finnick Odair x sibling!reader

warnings: apparently anon REALLY wants me to torture yall so...also i almost got really evil with this and made it hg70 and had annie and reader get reaped together but i DIDNT so YOURE WELCOME. oh and real warnings are violence, death, blood, hunger games

a/n:

prompt: anonymous: "yo okay so would you be willing to write a headcanon for being finnick's younger sibling who gets reaped a few years after his games and he has to mentor reader??? feel free to make it as devastating as you please (angst and finnick go together like peanut butter and jelly, i love him and therefore want to see him suffer)"

"y/n odair" -announcer picking your name from the bowl

finnick, sitting on the stage, jumped to his feet at your name, about to contest it, but it was no use. you were dead either way

you stepped forward in the district 4 crowd

it'd been 4 years since finnick won the games, he thought you'd be safe

but in all honesty, he knew it was his fault and this was his cruel punishment

you walked onto stage and he grabbed you in a hug on live tv

"i'm so sorry. this is my fault. i'm going to try to fix this" -finnick

"there isn't any use in that. what's done is done" -you

"you can win, i know it, i will be with you every step of the way" -finnick

mags had to pull him off you before it caused any more discourse

you were not mad at finnick, you did not feel betrayed by him, but he couldn't stop staring at you like you were going to kill him the second you boarded the train

"they know our strengths and weaknesses. what if the arena is made to weaken me?" -you

"we have time to train, we can figure this out together. y/n, i didn't mean for this to happen. i said no to snow just once, this isn't fair" -finnick

"nothing is fair, finnick. it's the hunger games—if it were fair, we wouldn't have them. period." -you

the train ride was somber, and all finnick could think of was the exploitation you'd face these next few weeks—and years if you managed to win

when you got the the capitol, he refused to leave your side

especially during styling

"y/n does not need to be anywhere near nude to be desirable. don't even try it. we're going to do this my way. y/n is the younger sibling of the youngest victor. we play into that. into my desirability" -finnick

"i don't think snow will like that" -you

"to hell with snow" -finnick

you were worried finnick would do something rash that would get you both killed

and even more worried that if you won, there'd be a worse punishment

"we're being set up, you know that? i don't think i'm making it out of this alive" -you

"hey, do not say that. you have a better chance than most. you're going to get sponsors for sure, you just go onto that chariot and you let them see who you are first" -finnick, grabbing your face

the tribute parade was okay, finnick finally managed to convince the stylists that revealing clothes would not be necessary and you could wear more practically fancy clothes. they opted for a scale pattern on your outfit. it sparkled, shined like a rainbow

the other tributes were wary of you, likely warned you could be dangerous considering the relation you shared to another victor

or maybe they were alienating you from your peers and potential allies

"you don't need allies, y/n. as much as i wish you had a chance to have a friend in there, it won't last and you can't trust them" -finnick

he tried his best to play nice with other mentors, but something was wrong

they looked down on the both of you, another ploy from snow?

the interviews were dull—at least, to you

"my, my, who do we have here. another odair just four years later?" -caesar

"unfortunately" -you

"oh, but what if you win? your family will be so proud of you and your brother. isn't that something to look forward to?" -caesar

you looked off to the side at finnick, urging you to just smile a little. even shyly

"well...i guess it wouldn't hurt" -you, pretending to play nice

"y/n, i must say, you and finnick don't seem much alike. he's oh, so very...smooth. you seem the shy kind, i've noticed" -caesar

"that's just how we are. he's the big brother, he's been in the spotlight, i'm just not so used to this" -you

"then, y/n, i hope to see you again after the games, if you know what i mean. maybe you'll get used to this big bright spotlight, too. i sure have, i just went blind in the process!" -caesar

finnick gave you a hug the moment you got off stage and told you how well you did. he hated seeing you used as another pawn and despised reliving this all over again through your eyes

you got a 10/12 by the gamemakers

finnick hadn't slept in days

he debated the idea of cheating

anything to keep his younger sibling alive, but he felt one wrong move would have you killed the moment you stepped foot in the arena

your fellow D4 tribute was being mentored by mags, but even they kept their distance from you. that was because they knew you were capable of winning

the moment finnick got his last look at you, he hugged tighter than ever before

"finnick, thank you for being the best big brother" -you

"don't say it like a goodbye, please" -finnick

"you're making this harder than it needs to be" -you

"i'm letting go of the person i care about most in this world, y/n. it is hard" -finnick

"i don't want it to be" -you

"i don't either. so do everything you can to push forward in that arena. you will get your hands dirty. you will hurt people and suffer and feel the worst fear imaginable, but you can win this. we have the sponsors, you have the training, and you know you have me in your corner" -finnick

"do you know what the arena will be like?" -you

"i don't...but i know you can handle it" -finnick

when you got to the arena, you were mortified

desert. one water source—tropical oasis with a waterfall. there were plenty of trees—they looked to be growing coconuts. another source of both water and food. even a weapon in some respects

the cornucopia was at the mouth of the oasis, district 1+2 would likely overtake it within the next few hours.

when the countdown went off, you rushed for just one weapon before making a run for it

it was no surprise the bulk of the tributes went after you—like the one who put you down would be favored the most

"they told me i'd be sent an obnoxious amount of supplies if i got y/n" -tribute

"yeah, me too" -another tribute

so great, the capitol made it an incentive to kill you

what the hell did finnick do to have you guys deserve this

finnick was on the edge of his seat watching you flee for your life

in one fell swoop, you turned and launched the trident—the only weapon you acquired—back at your suitors and struck one straight through the chest, knocking another on the ground.

one tribute remained in pursuit and you had to get creative, as they were holding a sword

a swift turn around a tree threw the tribute off just enough for you to kick the back of their knees and buckle them

they fell to the ground and you were quick to take their sword and stab them through the back

there was immediate guilt following the pursuit you'd somehow manage to win, and finnick didn't realize he had been holding his breath as long as he had

you backtracked to the trident and realized you knocked the other tribute unconscious as she lay below the dead tribute with the trident in his chest—she hit her head on a tree

reluctantly, you made the decision

you looked around to spot a camera, and with regret already in your gaze, you drove the sword you'd collected into her chest—a quick death

and another canon went off

by your count, that was...6? but as moments passed, 7, 8, 9, and 10 went off

14 tributes remain and the game just started, this terrain may not have been the best choice

they thought taking you from water would hurt you, but they didn't realize you had more to bring to the table

by nightfall, finnick had sent you some food and a note

you've done good so far, save your strength tonight. -finn

you ate the food paid for by sponsors and tried to rest, now you had a trident and a sword and a meal to tide you over

and with 11 tributes left, you may have a—scratch that—10 tributes...

you could have a chance at gaining the oasis

you didn't know how foolish that'd be

after scoping the area for hours, you were able to conclude the coast may have been clear enough to at least drink some water and linger nearby amongst the trees

you sloshed around the water, grabbed a bottle from the cornucopia, and began to drink

and hurriedly, finnick typed you a message on your next sponsored delivery

little did you know, there was an entire cave behind the waterfall some other tributes were hiding in

and they ambushed you

you quickly used your trident, the tool not many others could master, to fight off the other tributes

two canons went off as you struggled in the water, managing to take down your opponents

as this went on, another tribute crawled out of the water and got good enough aim with a bow and arrow to shoot you while you were in the water

you gasped as the arrow went through your stomach and one of the tributes still wrestling you held you down under the water as you weakened

and as you stopped struggling and went limp, the canon went off and the gift finnick sent you landed and the tribute that ended your life opened it—delayed on purpose

TRIBUTES IN THE WATERFALL! TRAP! RUN AWAY! -FINN

taglist: @summersimmerus // @sweetjedi //

[the-sleepy-conductor]

Hot take that will probably earn me a ticket to the guillotine:

I've seen a lot of discourse going around all over the place about Blankshipping and Blankshippers in general, and after thinking about this for almost a whole year, I just have to get this out.

Can we please just stop the hostility and threats to Blankshippers?

If you do not want Blankshippers to interact with your content, you can say so politely, without threatening people we don't know behind a screen. Set boundaries in an intro post for instance, but don't attack anyone while doing so.

Lately I have seen literal death threats towards Blankshippers, with a good number of them being insanely graphic. I don't care if it's in a "joking" manner, that is never ok. So many people comment about how the Submas community has been growing toxic and problematic and such, and these same people are out here posting death threats to people they don't even know simply for just existing in the Submas community. In what world is that not toxic itself?

Are you allowed to feel uncomfortable about Blankshipping and proshipping? Yes. Is it ok to insult, threaten, and ridicule those who participate in making such content? Absolutely not.

If Blankshipping makes you uncomfortable or if the content is upsetting or triggering to you, block the tag and move on. Please do not harass or berate the original poster, it solves absolutely nothing. The internet is for everyone to use and it will not revolve around others' preferences. It is up to you to curate your own experience.

For example, I have the Submas Angst tag blocked because sometimes having gut-wrenching angst suddenly pop up in my face while I'm scrolling can make an already bad mood worse. So I filter the tag so I get a warning on a post with that tag, so if I don't feel like seeing it, it's as easy as that. Do I harass the original poster for posting content that could potentially make me upset? No!

Speaking of tags, I feel like as long as content is tagged appropriately, there shouldn't be a problem. As long as the original poster makes an attempt to tag things accordingly, then that should be perfectly fine. And again, as for interaction, kindly state your boundaries, everyone is human just like you and sending threats directed at certain individuals for what they take interest in is downright wrong. This applies to Blankshipping, as long as content is tagged as Blankshipping, especially if it's NSFW, then there is no problem. As far as I know, I've only had to block one Blankshipper and that was because they kept creating several different accounts and following me one by one, all of which had NSFW Blankshipping as the profile picture, and I repeatedly told them to stop. That being said, not all Blankshippers are bad.

That being said, do I enjoy Blankshipping or consume such content? No. In fact it makes me very uncomfortable but I have no issues whatsoever when it comes to Blankshippers interacting with what little content I have made. However, I have made it very clear I do not want my content tagged as Blankshipping. They can like and reblog if they want, but as long as there's no Blankshipping tags, we're all cool here.

Please understand that nine times out of ten, Blankshippers are not going to shove Blankshipping content in your face like you think they will. They most likely have a whole separate account dedicated to that ship, and a different account for whatever else they want. There's no need to act like folks who "secretly" have a Blankshipping account have committed a war crime. What harm is being done?

Long story short, can we please stop harassing each other? Not just over Blankshipping, but in general? Especially when it comes to gatekeeping the twins, I don't know why there's been so many people doing that lately. But my overall point is, can everyone please just stop fighting? I'm not trying to be a pick-me or whatever you may want to call it, it's just exhausting and draining seeing so many threats aimed at so many different people. I know this essay is technically controversial within this community but I can't keep my silence anymore.

[utilitycaster]

I’ve noticed that a common theme in post-canon discussion of Bells Hells, when it is not focused on plotless fluff, is the idea that they are pursued by religious forces. This idea is generally talked about as a positive development, despite it being in direct conflict with so many of the “you just don’t understand their story THEY’VE HAD A HARD LIFE AND DESERVE SOFT BLANDNESS FOREVER” defenses of the finale and characters. It is my belief that this is not unlike the point I made about Fjord’s southern accent being largely ignored, and indeed is part of an overarching trend of Campaign 3’s most unpleasant fans: a desire by largely middle-class culturally Christian white people to experience, as if they were tourists, what they imagine to be the moral rightness of being an oppressed religious or racial minority, without the pesky realities of having to sometimes receive a message from local or religious authorities that someone has graffitied swastikas on your dedicated gathering places.*

The fact is with the exception of Hearthdell, which, again, Bells Hells notably never brought up at all in their conversations with Vasselheim (indeed, they were far more visibly annoyed at Vasselheim for asking the champion of a Betrayer god to wait outside and for daring to be out of sorts after Bells Hells disregarded that which they had implicitly agreed to during the Accord and showed up with Predathos instead), any form of religious persecution in Campaign 3 was almost entirely absent, despite it being a background element and noted sidequest motivator in Campaign 2. The Accord included Luxon and eidolon worshipers - the former of whom were indeed validated in their worship by Campaign 3’s ending, despite the Dynasty being far more successful as an imperialist and expansionist theocracy than Vasselheim (and despite the seething hatred many of these fans hold for Essek, whose actions, while undeniably harmful, were also the choices of someone acting against they Dynasty’s religious and political hegemony). Bells Hells’ grievances against the gods were both primarily individual and internal (why didn’t they answer me) just as their grievances against Vasselheim are ultimately individual rather than motivated by a sense of justice (why aren’t they letting in my friend’s friend? Why are these people not happy and nice to me after we’ve unexpectedly turned their entire lives upside down?); meanwhile, their choice to…entrust the Raven Queen, a god, entirely, and support catatheosis is defended as these same fans as kind (after months if not years of claiming the gods were colonizers deserving of death but to admit that was the discourse for that would mean Imogen’s nat 20 was not a good thing, and of course we can never have that). Now, this is perhaps the most glaring flaw of Bells Hells and Campaign 3; in attempting to do the “right” or “kind” thing they only ever seemed capable of focusing on one or two groups of people at most rather than what was best for Exandria and Ruidus at large, and frequently one of those groups was “themselves.”

This isn’t to say that persecution by religious groups is not a potential consequence - after all, from their perspective, Bells Hells effectively promised to the leaders of the world to keep Predathos sealed and then instead chose to give the gods an ultimatum between mortal life vs. exile or slow and agonizing death, with no warning nor consideration for the many people of Exandria who follow the gods. (The gods removing themselves from Exandria, or fighting back against the betrayers, incidentally, in Divergence, was criticized by these same people as being cruel; as I’ve said before there is no condition by which the gods are ever acceptable to these fans, which of course renders critique is worthless; there is no valuable input to be had from someone who is so hateful as to think your mere existence is a blight). I do not find this to be an issue narratively. I do however find that, as mentioned in my opening paragraph, it is all but rendered meaningless by the whining defense of how Imogen and Laudna’s story is specifically good because after so much hardship, they can rest, given that this implies they do not receive the Noble Rest of the Uncriticizable. And, as this entire post thus far outlines, the lack of consensus (and indeed contradictory positions) and constant goalpost shifting regarding the Only Valid Metrics By Which To Judge Bells Hells And Campaign 3 only further the allegations that this was a narrative and thematic mess that fails to hold up to any scrutiny.

But what is most troublesome, to me, is that tourism aspect to which I alluded. This enjoyment of Bells Hells as being pursued by religious forces is coming extensively from fans who have dismissed and even outright laughed at discussions of real-world religious discrimination. From quite early on, when I and other Jewish fans noted that the arguments in favor of exterminating the gods sounded highly reminiscent of antisemitic canards, we were called overly sensitive, hysterical, and stupid. More recently, when someone made a comment about the traumatic nature of Bells Hells threatening the forces of Vasselheim - who had outfitted them, made it possible for them to reach the Bloody Bridge, and came to meet them and escort them safely from Ruidus - as reminiscent of their family’s experience with colonizing Christian missionaries. One of Bells Hells louder defenders (and one of the voices in favor of the gods being colonizers) outright scoffed at this, made remarks deeply ignorant of non-Western religion (specifically Buddhism), and mocked someone’s generational trauma. And now, unsurprisingly, they are at the forefront of delighting in how Bells Hells are on the run from the forces of Vasselheim. When people talk about religious persecution in a way that fails to validate Bells Hells, bigotry is fair game; how dare we claim oppression when we are the oppressors in their eyes (people who don’t like Bells Hells).

I would also add: I think a far more compelling narrative of Bells Hells as people experiencing oppression would be that of disability. Ashton is canonically someone who experiences chronic pain. Imogen’s abilities map far better to mental illness or a severe processing disorder than, as someone earlier said, queerness in a small town. Chetney and FCG’s potential to lose control due to lycanthropy or Aeorian programming and even Laudna’s strange and offputting appearance (if largely an informed trait within the narrative) all line up with various chronic illness and disability narratives. However, while this is at times discussed in the fandom, I think the focus on religious persecution is because the disability narrative requires we consider that Bells Hells are in fact at times difficult to interact with, invasive in their behavior, or even violent and threatening due to these traits. This is not in my opinion a bad way to engage! But that frames them as people capable of causing problems and doing harm, rather than, again, the innocent and persecuted, and so they look to the religious persecution narrative instead.** I would also note that when I previously called out the religious discrimination and bigotry actually perpetuated by these fans, I was called all sorts of ableist things mostly relating to assumptions regarding my mental health; people I have quite literally never interacted with are still, over two months later, making these claims on Twitter (in the service of circling the wagons around their bigoted mutual, because, well, birds of a feather).

So what is the fate of Bells Hells, after the end of the campaign? Is Laudna’s story that of remaining on the run, or does she get her “idyllic happy ending cabin in the woods growing old with her lovely wife and crafts and being left the fuck alone”, as someone incapable of leaving people the fuck alone once put it? I don’t know, and frankly, as she is neither real nor interesting, I don’t particularly care, but here’s what I do know. Her fans are the sort of people who delight in laughing at those whom they see strange or simply deviating from a norm they’ve set; who are all too willing to call people crazy. They must engage in this tourism of religious persecution because, deep down, they are far closer to their own demonized idea of the people of Gelvaan or Vasselheim than Bells Hells. Were a Laudna analogue to exist in real life I have little doubt they'd come into her hut and drive her out; we already know they’d laugh at the people of Hearthdell.

*I would be remiss if I did not note that many of these fans are queer, and hate crimes against queer people are very real. I think one factor here is that the vast majority of the Tumblr fandom identifies as queer as do most of the Mighty Nein and several of Vox Machina, so this fails to make Bells Hells or their fans the most poor, perfect, unique, and special little lambs; the fact that homophobia and transphobia in Exandria do not exist as forms of systemic oppression in any capacity; and the fact that again, they don’t want to explore something that actually could threaten them in real life.

** This may also be subject to the same issue as my previous note, namely, some of these people are disabled themselves and don’t want to engage with oppression they actual experience, instead gawking and appropriating that of others even as they insult it.

[life-love-geekculture]

Okay, let’s talk Lucanis’s mind prison (Warning: Spoilers):

I honestly haven’t seen much discourse yet on how the “prison guards” reflect aspects of our favorite assassin’s personality. So, I figured I throw my two cents into the ring.

Let’s start with Caterina. Honestly, the most surface level of our four candidates, especially with Spite spelling it out for us. Caterina is Lucanis’ fear. Specifically, his fear of failing. Failing and disappointing Caterina. Failing the expectations set for him and by him. Failing Rook. Not killing Ghiln’nain at Weisshaupt was the cherry on top of an absolute shit sunday of what Lucanis would see as a year’s worth of failure. He’s been captured, tortured, and turned into an abomination by the very people he’s supposed to put the fear of the Maker into. It all just confirms those secret fears of not being good enough he’s been carrying for most of his life. And now he’s being confronted with a similar situation but with stakes on a personal level. Either decision he makes, he (at this point) loses.

Next up, Harding. Harding is his fear of Spite. Of what he could become, and who he could hurt, if he ever loses a modicum of control over the demon. It’s no accident Harding’s is the face he summons to project this. She might be the most sympathetic to his plight and still be willing to kill him if he ever loses control. Harding tells him in the real world that she would know it wouldn’t be his fault, but she wouldn’t let him hurt their friends. And Lucanis encourages her with this! Harding also seems to be the only other person besides Rook to ask if he would like a different room and to show concern with his isolating patterns. The fact she cares in spite of her fear (which he shares) makes her a perfect representative. Because he might literally kill himself then risk hurting her.

Neve. Ah Neve, a potential love interest or Lucanis’s best friend if you romance him as Rook. By this point in the quest, Rook has bulldozed their way past Lucanis’s fears and insecurities. Now it’s time to lash out. If you listen to his & Neve’s banter with each other and in general, they are the driest pair of a-holes you will ever meet. It’s great! So, naturally, when it comes to throwing that cynicism and sarcasm up like a freaking shield, Neve is who he thinks about. I also love the insight this section gives into how Lucanis groups people in his head (family, enemy, and contract). That’s not Spite. Spite, we’ve seen, tends to build the framework of his interactions from his host. That is all Lucanis, baby! We also get a little more insight into how Lucanis views Neve herself. I like to think Spite’s description is kind of the gut instinct, first impression our boy had meeting Neve in the Ossuary or later at the Lighthouse. On paper, she’s a Tevinter mage like the ones who held him for a year. His head knows she’s not the same, but I’ll bet she set off all his defensive instincts and now there’s guilt associated with that. Because he likes Neve. He gets along with Neve. He really needs to teach Neve how to appreciate coffee. But he can’t shake how he felt first meeting her and, like everything else, he carries it with him.

Fucking Illario. It tracks that Lucanis at his most self-hating would dredge up this dumbass. This is the crux of his current dilemma. He loves his cousin. They’re the last person the other & Caterina has. But if he’s going to do this the Crow way, Illario has to die & Caterina will likely fall in the crossfire. Or, worse, she will never forgive him. It is the surest confirmation he is the monster everyone thinks he is. After all, only an abomination would kill all the family he has left. And because it’s Lucanis and it’s Rook, who just keeps sidestepping every excuse he can come up with, his last card is to show the monster behind the man. To show Rook the demon of Vyrantium.

In case you couldn’t tell, I love this mission!

[nekropsii]

Hello! First of all, love your work. Wonderful takes and analysis on the alpha trolls, and also i’m a big fan of sovstuck - both the text and the awesome cool art. I love that every character gets introduced with their own unique artstyle, each oozing with character :)

I wanted to ask, - and please believe that i’m asking in good faith, - about your proship dni. I’ve been seeing discourse about ‘pro/anti ship’ for ages now, but i cannot for the life of me understand what the hell either side stands for. First i hear it’s about abusive or problematic (pedo/incest) ships in general, then it’s about the difference of portrayal/endorsement of those things, then it’s something else entirely and i can never fucking understand what the hell the issue is and why it is so heated.

By no means i’m asking you to speak for the whole discourse or even for the entire ‘side’ of it - if there’s one thing i got, it’s that no one can agree on their definition of what ‘their side’ stands for. But i would like to know what meaning you put into the terms, and what kind of ‘proship’ you would like to not interact with you; i trust that you know what you believe in and are able to put it to words in a way that makes sense and doesn’t contradict itself or common sense, as i sometimes see :”)

I.. understand that since the topic is so divisive, you may get a ton of bullshit in your ask box and notes, should you choose to answer this, both from people who disagree and those who choose to misinterpret what you say. So feel free to ignore this ask if you don’t want to deal with that. Still, i do hope i can someday gain some clarity on this topic haha.

Best wishes!! thanks for what you do :)

Hello! Thank you so much, the compliments mean a lot! They really keep me going, lol!!

First of all, congratulations on formulating the most normal ask adjacent to this topic. Since it's so god damn touchy, people have a tendency to start throwing rocks no matter what "side" they're on, and no matter if they know what the hell they're talking about or not. Frankly, some of the ruckus surrounding this circus act is embarrassing. On both ends. Second of all, while this isn't something I'm an expert in, I do know more than I'd like, so I'd be happy to give my perspective, even if it's potentially a bit limited/flawed.

Thirdly, I'm putting this under a cut, for anyone who doesn't want to read all that.

Content Warning: Discussions of Shipping Discourse, Sexual Assault, Abuse, Grooming, Incest, and Pedophilia.

Let me start this by defining what the Relevant Terms mean:

Shipping: The act of pairing two or more Characters together. Though the term is derived from "Relationship", and therefore is at its core - technically, theoretically - a Neutral Term, it - conversationally, colloquially - carries extremely heavy Romantic Connotations, with a strong implication that said Romance is found to be appealing - typically in the sense of being either Cute, or Sexy. Defining this is not me trying to condescend you - One of the key questions in this discourse is what it means to "ship" something, and whether or not the term implies the shipper is condoning the material inherent to the ship.

ProShip: Essentially means "All For All Shipping". It's the personal, discourse-based identity label equivalent to the phrase "Ship And Let Ship". There's a common misconception floating around that the "Pro" in "ProShip" stands for "Problematic", rather than simply being the positive antonym to the prefix "Anti". While I find this to be a failure of basic deductive reasoning, I can also understand how the conclusion was reached - Proshippers are most commonly associated with "Problematic Content"/"Problematic Ships", and they do tend to take pride in being "Problematic" themselves. Either way, the word "Problematic" is highly associated with them and often reclaimed by them. They also call themselves "Anti-Antis" (horribly stupid label, by the way), and "ComShip(pers)", with the "Com" being short for "Complex". To my knowledge, ComShip is a sect specifically trying to get away from the baggage that the term "ProShip" holds, and away from the very real predator problem within the ProShip Community. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

AntiShip: Essentially means "Against Certain Forms of Shipping". It actually used to be a term for people who were against specific individual ships, rather than a blanket discourse label - for example, rather than someone identifying as just an "Antishipper", they would typically label themselves as "Anti-VrisMeen", or a "VrisMeen-Anti", or whatever their focus was. An important thing to note is that Antis trend Young, and they trend Traumatized. They are typically Teenagers, and their stances are largely informed by their discomfort watching Adults Sexualize Characters who share their age or younger, and discomfort watching people Sexualize some kind of Trauma they've been through - and considering their general ages, it's not unlikely that that Trauma is either Fresh or Ongoing. This is not always the case, but it's such a large amount of the AntiShip crowd, and it's acknowledged so little, that it's worth mentioning. It's a very important piece of context to me.

The general Belief Systems of both sides, as they currently stand, are as follows:

ProShip: ==> Never Harass Anyone Over Their Ships: This is the bones of their beliefs, and where everything started. Essentially, it's rude and unnecessary to send people Harassment over a Ship they enjoy, because not only could you be doing something better with your time, but also it can be pretty difficult to tell the "How/What/Why" of someone's interest in such material. ==> All Forms of Shipping Should Be Allowed, No Matter The Content: This is the meat of their beliefs, and also where the arguing starts. It's exactly what it says on the tin - Anything Goes, including Rape, Abuse, Incest, and Pedophilia. This is why the label is so touchy - many people are extremely uncomfortable with the idea of Fandom going back to its habit of uncritically normalizing + romanticizing Rape, Abuse, Incest, and Pedophilia. Part of this is due to the fact that this uncritical normalization has led to genuine, tangible harm on people in Fandom Spaces, particularly Minors. ==> Being Problematic Is Based: The skin of their beliefs. Many people wrap up Shipping Discourse in terms that make it sound like engaging in it is Political Praxis, somehow. While your stance on Shipping Discourse can certainly be telling of your Political Beliefs, in the way that your stance on literally anything can be telling of that, calling Shipping Discourse on its own some kind of Radical Political Stance is... Deeply silly, and also keeps leading to people saying "Being into Incest/Pedophilia is Queer Nature", like, unironically. I keep seeing this happen. This part of it tends to be very... Spite-driven. ==> Fiction Is Not Reality: Basically their catchphrase - nothing that happens in fiction is real, and therefore has no tangible effect on reality.

AntiShip: ==> Please Tag Your Content Appropriately And Keep It Out Of The Reach Of Minors: The bones of their beliefs. Self Explanatory, typically followed up with "and if you can't do that, don't post/make it at all". To further illustrate this, I'd like to spark any reader's memory of the times where you couldn't Google search "Fluttershy" without being lambasted with hardcore porn. No additions of "R34", or "NSFW", just "Fluttershy". There was no SFW Filters. You just had to fucking fight for your life. Being a child on the Internet is and was extremely rough. There wasn't any Official Tag Filtering on Tumblr until... I think 2017. It was dark. ==> Abuse/Rape/Incest/Pedophilia Should Not Be Considered "Shipping": The meat of their beliefs. Essentially, these are extremely heavy, delicate topics meant to be treated with respect and tact, or not handled at all. This is not possible in Shipping Content. At least, not as we currently understand it, and will likely remain understanding in that way for years to come. They argue that Fanfiction is not ever going to be on par with Vladimir Nabokov's Lolita. Which is true. They also argue that it's impossible for most Fanfictions to treat these sensitive subjects with any respect, which is... Dubious, but also fair, considering the Sturgeon's Law of it all. ==> Ewwwww...: The skin of their beliefs. Disgust. It's a whole lot of disgust. Again, worth reiterating that the bulk of AntiShippers are quite Young and/or Traumatized, and the content they are reacting to tends to be Extreme, so a gut response of disgust is... Honestly, healthy. No 15 Year Old should be stumbling upon art of a child getting frisky with their dad and going "hell yeah, brother!". Though I wish they'd handle their disgust with more tact, I find that it's just... A fair response, given their age, what their backstory tends to be, and what content they tend to be reacting to is. ==> Fiction Affects Reality: Not necessarily their catchphrase, but definitely their counterpoint to the catchphrase of ProShippers. They do not say Fiction is real, just that it does literally have a tangible effect on reality, and point to cases where this is observable. The impact Jaws had on real life sharks is a favorite, as is The Birth of a Nation, and The Turner Diaries. And, of course, the ways that the works put out by ProShippers has tangibly affected the lives of others, especially children.

It is worth noting, I am neither of these things. I do not identify as a ProShipper, nor do I identify as an AntiShipper. I identify as a Horror Writer. I have "DNI: ProShip" in my bio because their stances make me the most uncomfortable, and I have been victimized personally by members of their crowd and the result of their beliefs.

I was Groomed by an Adult ProShipper when I was 14 Years Old. She used her ideologies as a ProShipper to excuse herself and the (sexual) content she forced me to Roleplay with her, and used it to pressure me into writing more and more extreme content. I did not want to do it even at the time - it made me uncomfortable - but she made the idea of saying "No" to her... Quite scary, and like I was the one in the wrong for being uncomfortable with it. After all, Fiction Isn't Reality, right? I am not the only person I know with this experiences. I have met and spoken to countless - and I mean countless - individuals who have had similar experiences with that crowd. The sheer distrust kids and teens tend to have towards them is learned through that crowd's propensity towards grooming them. Because the celebration and normalization of that content breeds comfortability with "the real deal", and comfortability with harboring predators.

I'm sure some ProShippers have noble intentions, and don't realize what the controversy is about. I'm sure some of them are deeply out of the loop, and still think it only means "Being Anti-Harassment". But I do not care enough to give people the chance, just... For the sake of my own sanity. You understand, I'm sure. I do not think that this rift between worlds is ever going to get closed, or that these sides are going to experience amicability, because the question is nuanced and about morality itself, and one side is full of defensive, traumatized teenagers trying to keep themselves and their friends safe from what they are perceiving as legitimate threats to their safety, and the other side is full of people who just wanna jerk it to weird porn.

I'm not personally comfortable with, like, any self-identified ProShipper being near me, just due to my own experiences. Some might try to identify me as one against my will, due to the fact that I am Anti-Harassment and a Horror Writer unafraid to touch upon every single one of the aforementioned sensitive topics, but... I am simply not one, because I don't identify that way, I don't believe in their beliefs, and they creep me out, lol.

My beliefs are that people should be able to write about whatever they want, as long as they handle things with the appropriate amount of care, and as long as they keep things tagged appropriately. I think that harassing people for shipping Stridercest in fucking 2024 is lame because you could be doing literally anything else with your time, and I think shipping Stridercest in fucking 2024 is lame because you could be doing anything else with your time. Like, come on, man, it's not even interesting. They're not even doing anything interesting with it. Where are the themes? There are no themes. It's just brothers mackin' on each other whitely. Come on.

No topic should be off limits, but you should at least give it the care and respect it deserves, and you should make it interesting. Nothing is interesting on its own. Rape is not interesting on its own. Incest is not interesting on its own. Abuse is not interesting on its own. Pedophilia is not interesting on its own. Taboo subjects are not interesting on their own. They're mundane evils that happen literally every day to regular people. In writing, they need to be paired with themes, and, hopefully, with good writing. People who have been through these things deserve not only to have their trauma represented, but handled with care, and also for it to be interesting to read. They deserve to have options. They deserve to have good literature to chew on, to help them digest and cope with their own trauma. It's difficult to do that when you feel invisible to everything but the camera lens of a Fetish Pornographer, and I know many people who are suffering with the fact that their traumas seem to only ever be represented or referenced in shitty pornography.

Sure, some people cope with their own trauma by sexualizing it. I know that's the case for some ProShippers, and their reason for being within that group. But it's certainly not everyone's method of coping, and it shouldn't be the only option... Which is why I'm advocating for safe, non-fetishized exploration of extreme themes.

I think the reason why the discourse is so unclear is because "ProShip" and "AntiShip" aren't very tangible, definite belief systems, and also the talking points are evolving and maturing over time. A few years ago, the beliefs of "Antis" definitely broadly leaned more heavily towards total rejection of those themes being present in any fiction, but their arguments seem to have matured lately into "the problem is the nature of the depiction, not the presence of depiction itself".

That's all I can think of saying right now that wouldn't just be me walking in circles. And don't worry, I can definitely take the hit. I'm not sure what here could be very arguable other than semantics, or maybe a history lesson or two.

Thank you for the ask! Hope this helps!