#which is a sure sign it's time to let it go

[penguicorns-are-cool]

Personal story not quite on the same note about growing up CODA

My life would be way easier if more people were more prepared about communicating with Deaf people. A lot of the time it’s as easy as looking in their direction while you talk and not blocking your mouth. You can write things down or point to the signs and posters and pamphlets you have next to you at the desk if you’re having any issues communicating something. Instead, I end up interpreting for my mom most of the time. And that has for sure had a very significant impact on how I act in my interactions with strangers and workers even when she’s not around.

But even beyond that. The worst is the times when someone realizes that I’m hearing and start asking ME all the questions. Even when I was young, you’re asking ME a 10 YEAR OLD if I want cash back, or the receipt, or the name for the order?!!?!?? Like I’m pretty sure I know the answers but I’m not at all prepared to tell you when my mom is here. And it’s also rude. Why are you acting like I’m more capable of answering your question than my Mom!?!?!?!??? And granted some people say “ask her” which is still a big no no. She’s right there, and she’s very good at lip-reading. But now I will for sure have to interpret because you turned your head to look at me and said it when she wasn’t looking.

And it gets worse as I get older. It has become more the default reaction to fully bypass my mom and go to me. That is not how my mom and I are in public though, usually I let her do all the talking because I very much so don’t want to.

So idk, something about the infantilization of disabled parents leading to the adultification of their kids. If it weren’t for other people’s lack of communication skills, then this would not affect me at all. There’s plenty of people who are very well prepared for this sort of situation and not all of them know sign language. But it happens enough.

It sucks that adults' prejudices shape kids' childhoods. Like poly people having to actively worry about keeping custody of their kids just because other people who don't know them think their lifestyle is weird. Like imagine how much nicer things would be if people could just be normal about things.

Like some kid growing up in a family with Mom, Dad, and Kevin, who sleeps in dad's bed half the time and makes really good spaghetti. And that's just their primary example of what a "normal" family is. And then they go to kindergarten or something and really get to know other kids from other families for the first time and just go the fuck do you mean you don't have a Kevin? What happened to yours?

And the other kids go home asking their parents why they don't have a Kevin, because they, too, want really good spaghetti. And their parents have no fucking idea how to even begin unwrapping what the ever-loving fuck their kid is talking about.

[yapdad]

(trueform) sukuna, the amalgamation of all things sharp and evil, is... a virgin?

you laugh when he tells you. he ponders the merits of spanking you for making a fool of his abstinence.

'don't mock me' he had pouted like a kicked puppy, eyebrows knit together in a faux fury that just makes him look dumb, because anger on ryomen sukuna is only natural in every direction but yours.

you have that asshole wrapped around your finger.

well, you did. until you laughed at him for being a virgin, and he decided his many years of celibacy were ideal to be broken by someone with your gall.

know you're wrapped around his fingers. literally, knuckles deep while he plunges them in and out and in and out of your pussy on a grating loop that has your vision gated by stars and tears after only a few minutes.

he's fucking good for a virgin. you wonder if he's better with his cock than he is with his fingers—whether he's fucked his fist late at night to the thought of doing things like this to you. how depraved he's let his mind become. if his fantasies would frighten you or not.

"i didn't mean to laugh," you try pleading after your first orgasm on his fingers. "i wasn't laughing at you, it's just hard to believe. don't you have concubines?"

"i'm not a philanderer," he grunts, curling his thick fingers inside of you.

"do you even—fuck, ryomen—do you even know what a philanderer is?"

"a whore," he bites. "i saw no point in engaging in such... carnal affairs. i don't like playing with my food."

well that's a lie. you roll your eyes, half in defiance and half because you think sukuna might be rewiring your brain matter with this kind of pleasure. so much so that you start to say stupid things without thinking of the consequences in doing so.

"so it's not because your cock is small?"

and he stops. you're thankful for the break, though you tighten around his fingers in some sort of biological protest to the lack of stimulation. sukuna, all hot and heady, takes your face in his one of his free hands and squeezes your cheeks together, bulging your lips.

"my cocks are adequate in size."

"cocks?" you're speech is muffled by sukuna's grip on your face. "like, more than one?" you squint your eyes at him "do you have multiple cocks, sukuna?"

indeed he does.

after another orgasm on his fingers, and then one on his tongue (which left both you and him in a mess of spit and sweet release) he finally disrobed and let you bask in the frightening sight of his two cocks, stacked one on top of the other, both hard and veiny and leaking at the tips with a copious amount of pre.

he's huge. in both cases. you suppose you should have signed something before laying down for the man, right? still, a curling need eats at your lower stomach: to have him like this when no one else has.

"are... will..." you clear your throat. "so, uh. they're both going inside of me?"

sukuna doesn't speak at first, probably because he's growing impossibly harder at the look of fear on your face. he lays you back and situates you beneath him, his rough hands oddly gentle for what's most likely the last kind thing he'll do to you tonight.

"no," he says. "next time. i want to... see something."

see something? sukuna steps between your parted legs and looks lustfully at the mess he's left of you. you're somewhat ashamed for becoming such a sight after teasing him like you did, but the hunger in his eyes are enough of a balm to shift your shame into... fear? want? a deep-rooted masochism?

kuna strokes one of his cocks, the one on the underside, a few times before lining it up with your entrance. resigned to your fate, you close your eyes and take a long breath in and then letting the air empty from your lungs in preparation for the stretch.

but it doesn't come.

you open one eye to find sukuna staring back at you. two of his hands hold your thighs apart in a force that is sure to leave bruises, the third holds his cock steady against your pulsing hole... but the fourth just hangs.

that is, until he snakes it up your torso, nice and slow, and then trails it down the length of your arm to lace his fingers with yours. a hand to hold through his first time.

"tell anyone and i end your bloodline," he says. you smile, and he growls and presses forward, taking the plunge and entering your tight warmth, leaving his virginity at the door.

as he pushes himself further and further in, his second cock rests on your stomach, leaking pre-cum all over your pretty skin. once he's bottomed out, which is a feat that takes a whole lot of squirming and clenched teeth on your end, he stills inside of you.

his eyes are glued to where his second cock lays on your tummy. it's an indicator of just how deep inside of you he is. how much of your body he's claimed as his own in that searing but all-too pleasurable stretch of his mean size. he squeezes your hand tight.

you're already teary-eyed, revelling in the almost hedonistic way your pussy tries to suck him in even further. you're sure that any deeper would be a health risk, but you've never felt this good before. this full.

and still, sukuna just stares down at his cock laying on your belly. he's so deep, sheathed inside of you in the most intimate display of connection besides... cannibalism? his mind races, his mouth goes dry, and with an almost pathetic moan from deep in his chest, ryomen sukuna cums both inside of you and all over your stomach at the same time.

without even a full thrust inside of you.

you gasp, the sheer amount of cum flooding into you at once is overwhelming. "did you just—"

"no."

you lift your head to look at the release painting your stomach: so much so that it's covering your tits too. "you just came in one stroke."

"shut the fuck up."

"you really are a virgin, still holding my hand, too."

sukuna growls at that, lowers his body against yours just to show off his crushing weight. a bite to your earlobe is soon followed by a few harsh words in your ear.

"do you want to be ripped in half by my cocks? shut your fucking mouth or i'll gladly—"

"yes. please, yes. yeah. let's do it."

[midnightquips]

That Old Feeling

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: It's been years since you've seen Bucky Barnes. You didn't plan to see him, but he definitely didn't look surprised to see you. Something's different, though. The looks. The heat. Maybe it's always been there. Maybe... you've just been too blind to see it before.

Themes: AU Thunderbolts, teasing officemates, possessive Bucky, friend's ex, Thunderbolts chaos (a consistent theme), friends-to-lovers, college crush so pining

🔴 MINORS DNI 🔴 Warnings: 18+ content, eventual smut, dirty talk, praise kink, soft aftercare, pwp, piv sex, unprotected sex

💫 That Old Feeling Masterlist 📌 Sign Up for TAGLIST

Chapter 2

Part III – What Are We Doing? 

You’re relieved that you managed to avoid Bucky for most of the day. You were almost successful. Until now.

You’re walking across the nearly empty parking lot, tote bag slung over one shoulder, head full of numbers from a late client call, when you spot him. Leaning against your car. Because of course he is.

“Seriously?” you mutter under your breath.

He hears you, then straightens up like he’s been waiting. Which, judging by the look on his face, he absolutely has.

“You stalking me now?” you call as you approach.

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “Saw you forgot your charger at your desk. Figured I’d bring it out. Do the chivalrous thing.”

You had been looking for your charger before you left and wondered where it was. How suspicious it was with him. You had a feeling he did this on purpose. But what bothered you more was how it actually didn’t bother you. 

You reach for it, but he doesn’t hand it over. He simply holds it up between two fingers like bait.

You narrow your eyes. “What do you want, Barnes?”

He pauses. Then: “Dinner.”

Your brain stutters. “What?”

He softens, the smile less cocky now. “Dinner. As in, let me take you to one.”

You blink. “Like… a date?”

“I mean, you kissed me like you might want to sit across from me for an hour and eat pasta.”

“That was…” You trail off, then try again. “That was just—”

“Tequila and nostalgia?”

You frown.

He grins. “I know what you’re gonna say. I just figured I’d ask politely instead of begging on my knees.”

You sigh and cross your arms. “Why?”

“Because I want to,” he says simply. “Because I think we missed something back then. And I’d like to see if we can get it right now.”

It’s annoyingly sincere. You hate how your stomach flips. “I don’t date coworkers.”

“You don’t date ex-roommates’ exes either,” he points out. “And yet...”

You scowl. “You’re really not gonna let that go, huh?”

“Not when I finally have a shot.”

The silence stretches. You shift your weight, glance at your car and finally back at him.

“Fine,” you say eventually. “Dinner. As colleagues. Reconnecting.”

His eyes sparkle. “Sure. Totally professional.”

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t get cocky.”

He smirks. “No promises.”

He hands you the charger and walks you to the driver’s side, like he’s worried the car might disappear if he looks away. You pause before unlocking it.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Not really.” He shrugs smugly

You shake your head, not able to keep the small smile from appearing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

You stare at him. His words catching you off-guard. 

His expression shifts and slows. “Can I say that?”

You swallow. “You just did.”

Suddenly, he steps in closer. It was just a few inches but you can feel the heat between you, the memory of his hands on your skin already creeping up your spine.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about last night,” he says, voice low. “The way you tasted. The way you moved.”

Your breath catches. “Bucky…”

“I know,” he says, raising his hands. “Not the time. Not the place. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say I want more of it.”

You try to keep your voice steady. “We said it was just a moment.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “But I want another one.”

You’re quiet. Too quiet. Because your brain is busy screaming danger and your body is saying please.

And then, before you can change your mind, before you can throw logic back in his face, he leans in. You think he’s going to kiss your cheek again. Polite. Safe. But his mouth lands right beside yours again. Like it did yesterday but this time on purpose. 

The kiss is on the edge of your lips. You shift just slightly. Just enough that suddenly it’s a kiss again.

This one’s different this time. Not frenzied. Not wild. Just slow. Deep. The kind of kiss that builds heat in your chest and travels down your spine like a fuse. 

He groans into it, low and quiet, like he’s been waiting all day for this exact moment. You part your lips, let him in, just once. He brings his hand to hold your face, sliding his tongue into your mouth. 

It makes your gasp. Then, you step back. Because if you don’t, you’re going to let him fuck you in the backseat of your car.

He’s breathing harder than before. Eyes hooded.

You lick your lips, but regret it instantly.

“Text me,” you say, unlocking the door. “If you still want to have dinner when your brain’s back online.”

He opens your door for you, still dazed. “I already do.”

You slide in. “Try not to camp out by my bumper tomorrow.”

“No promises.” 

You close the door before you can smile too much. But you see it in the mirror as you drive off. Bucky is standing there, watching you go, looking like he’s already planning what to wear.

Taglist: @enchantingwitchballoon @emilyswortwellen @tellybearryyyy @kiatjuddae @Luannastylinsonlupin @OtterlyCanadian @winchestert101 @bxtchboy69 @biggestfangirl @luannastylinsonlupin @Sebastians-love @fveapplestall @snhoe @ruexj283 @avengersfan25 @in-omn1a-paratus @avengemepercy

[stargazedwinchester]

ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `delightful, dean winchester ༘♡

summary: you're meeting your friends brother for the first time. he's all things cocky and outward... and maybe a little bit of a dick. word count: 513 pairing: dean winchester x reader prompt: "Ignore him, he's a dick." "I think he's delightful," prompt can be found here! credit to: @prompts-in-a-barrel <3

⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧

Sam looks exasperated. Which is funny, because you’ve only known Dean for half a day, and you’ve already seen that expression plastered on Sam’s face at least five separate times.

“Ignore him,” Sam mutters, not bothering to lower his voice. “He’s a dick.”

You glance over to where Dean is leaning against the motel room doorframe, arms crossed, mouth tugged into the barest smirk like he knows exactly what’s being said about him.

"I think he's delightful."

“You don’t know him,” Sam huffs, “seriously.”

Dean pushes off the frame and strolls closer, that smirk deepening into something just shy of cocky. “Delightful, huh?”

You meet his gaze and smile, just enough to let him know you’re not bluffing. “Well, you’ve not insulted me, tried to kill me, or told me I’m not cut out for hunting. So yeah. Pretty charming compared to the usual crowd.”

He whistles low under his breath, pointing his finger at you as his eyes flicker to Sam. “I like her.”

“She’s not a dog, Dean,” Sam grumbles. Dean ignores him — all his attention is on you now. “So, what did you think of the hunt?” He cocks his head. “Besides the part where I got thrown into a fence?”

“You landed fine.”

“You watched me get thrown through a fence.”

“I also shot the vamp trying to eat your face, sweetheart. That earn me any points?”

Sweetheart.

Sam lets out a long, pained sign and mutters something about getting coffee. You hardly notice him leave.

There’s a short silence before Dean sits beside you.

“You’re not what I expected,” he says.

“Neither are you.”

His gaze sharpens. Not suspicious, just interested. Like you’re a puzzle he didn’t know he wanted to solve. His eyes flicker down your frame and back up, thoughtful, not sleazy. He looks at you like he’s trying to decide whether you’re trouble, and if so, whether he minds.

“I mean it, though,” you say. “About you being delightful.”

He raises an eyebrow, skeptical. “Yeah?”

“Sure. You’ve got this whole gruff, tough-guy persona going, but underneath that? I bet you’re a decent guy.”

He laughs softly. “That’s the nicest insult I’ve ever had.”

“You’re welcome.”

For a second, the motel room is just the two of you, the dim light buzzing overhead, the scent of old wood and gun oil lays thick in the air. Dean tilts his head.

“You sticking around?” He asks, clearing his throat. You shrug. “Depends.”

“On what?”

You grin at him. “Depends on whether you keep being a dick or not.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll try to rein it in. No promises, though.”

“I’d be disappointed if you did.”

He’s still smiling when Sam walks back in, holding two coffees and a confused look clouds his face.

“Seriously?” Sam mutters, handing you a cup. “He flirted with you already?”

You blow on the coffee, not meeting Dean’s eyes. “I flirted with him.”

Dean just smirks, all smug and warm and unbothered.

And okay… maybe he is a dick.

But he’s your kind of dick.

[selenitespeculations]

“Danny I really think everything’s gonna be fine!” Jazz said, a bit of chastisement in her tone.

“And I think that their fundamentally incorrect understanding of ecto-entities will get in the way! I don’t know what they’ll come up with but I’m sure it won’t end up good for me.” Danny grumbled. “You know how they are! We’ve both tried to show them evidence ghosts are sentient, feeling beings but they refuse to even acknowledge any of it! They mental gymnastics it at an Olympic level to make it fit their theories.”

“Which is why we’re doing a picnic in the park instead of telling them at home.” Jazz remarked. “I really DO think they’ll come around, but a safe distance from the lab is always a good idea, at least until they have a chance to digest the new information.”

“More like plan my eternal doom”

“You’re being dramatic, Danny. They’re your parents and they love you.”

“I know that! I just worry that they won’t see Phantom-me and Alive-me as the same person.” Danny flopped back on Jazz’s purple duvet. “I know you think if we just explain it well enough they’ll see, but I really don’t know…” he trailed off, not sure how to explain the foreboding sensation in his gut.

“Well even if everything goes horribly wrong, Sam and Tuck both have bug-out bags, and will be on standby if things go pear shaped, which they won’t, but we’re prepared either way!” Jazz said in her annoying yet endearing big sister voice.

Danny sighed, they’d been having this conversation for weeks now, hashing and re-hashing out details and grievances. Danny wasn’t even sure they’d be able to convince Jack and Maddie to go on the picnic in the first place, much less get them to sit still and listen long enough to explain the very convoluted situation he’d found himself in. Getting them out of the lab had become harder and harder ever since they’d started contracting with the GIW.

“Have we disabled the sensors arround the park?” Danny asked.

“As you well know, Tucker told us this morning that he had managed to put them on a feedback loop. The GIW won’t even know anything’s wrong if you have to go ghost.”

Danny sighed again. Louder and longer this time, just to be annoying. It’s his duty as a younger brother after all.

His phone started ringing, loud and obnoxious with the “I’m a Barbie girl” song that Tucker had made his ringtone. He could change it, but Tucker had put a decent amount of effort into locking it as his ringtone, and Danny didn’t wanna hurt his friends hacker ego by changing it too quickly.

“Hey Tuck, what’s up?”

“Tell me I’m a genius!” Tucker exclaimed. This was bound to be good.

“Hmmmmm I don’t know, that thing with Technus last Saturday-“ Danny started in a teasing tone.

“That’s in the past Danny, let it go already!” Tucker whined. “Besides, after I tell you what I just figured out you’ll never think about that again!”

“Let’s hear it then.”

“So you know how lately the GIW’s been on your ass the moment you go ghost?”

“I’m well aware, thanks.” Danny cut in sarcastically.

“Well I was poking arround in their servers and-”

“Tuck you spend half the day in their servers, what could you possibly have found that we didn’t already-”

“What I found,” Tucker said loudly, taking back control of the conversation before it devolved into bickering. “Was a spell circle made out of code!”

Danny blinked. “A what?”

“A spell circle! Like in thoes books Sam’s been obsessed with lately.”

“What kind of spell circle?”

“The kind that locks down the rest of their servers! I’ve only been skimming the tip of the iceberg this whole time!” Tuck said excitedly. “Sam’s taking a look at it now, once she figures out a way through it we should have access to their entire server.”

“So that’s how they’ve been staying ahead of us huh?” Danny asked. This new found magic competency from the GIW was a bad sign. Hopefully they only recently developed it, instead of Danny missing such an important detail.

“Most likely.” Tucker agreed. “I’m sure that info on how they’ve been tracking you is behind the magic firewall. Probably stuff on methods and other bases as well. Now tell me I’m a genius!”

“Hmmnnn I don’t know, seems Sam’s the one doing the legwork here-“

“Hey!”

“Just kidding, just kidding, you’re a genius Tucker Foley.”

“Thank you!” Tucker huffed jokingly. “How goes planning for the big reveal?”

“Talking it over with Jazz right now.” Danny said, glancing over at his sister, who’s been looking over notes of some kind while he’d been on the phone.

“Well I’ll leave you to it, and remember dude, we’ve got your back!” Tucker exclaimed before hanging up the call.

Danny turned back to Jazz, “Whatcha looking at?”

“My notes on mom and dad’s phycological profile. Me going to Gotham for college should be enough to get them out of the house, and with all the fudge we made we should be able to get dad to sit still long enough to get into the meat of things.” Jazz replied. “I’m bringing a broken lipstick laser for mom to fiddle with, and as long as we get past the whole ‘your son is half ghost’ thing and into the explanation before she fully processes it, they should be shocked enough to internalize what we’re telling them.”

“See you’re just as nervous about this as I am!” Danny said, vindicated.

“Of course I am Danny! I love our parents, but they do have a habit of shooting first and asking questions never when it comes to ghost stuff.” She looked down at her hands, “I want to believe there’s no risk at all, that their love for us will overcome their obsessions, but…”

“We don’t know how liminal they’ve become.” Danny finished for her. “Their obsessions might be too strong to fight with logic or love.”

“Yeah.” Jazz agreed softly. “But as your older sister, I promise that no matter what I’ll keep you safe!”

Danny was getting deja vu. Jazz reminded him so much of Jay sometimes. The fierce protectiveness, putting up a face of positivity when Danny felt helpless.

“I love you Jazzy.” Danny said quietly, feeling a million different emotions tangle up inside of him. His throat felt tight. “No matter how this goes down, I’m glad you’re my sister.”

“Your favorite sister?” Jazz teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“My favorite older sister,” Danny chuckled, “we don’t need Dani sensing a sibling competition and coming to fight for her honor.”

They both laughed, remembering the last time Dani was back in Amity, when she had declared a sibling fight club to prove herself the superior sibling.

“No we definitely don’t need that added onto everything right now.” Jazz said once they’d caught their breath. “Are you sure there’s no other siblings you want to tell about our plan?”

“I told you Jazz, Jay doesn’t need to know!” Danny defended. “He worked so hard to make sure I got a safe normal life, I don’t want to disappoint him.” His voice got quiet.

“If you say so, little brother.” Jazz acquits. “Though I’m sure that he wouldn’t blame you-“

“I know, I know, I just don’t want him to think all his work getting me out of Gotham was for nothing.” Danny said quietly. He felt a little guilty, both for not telling Jay anything about his ghostly double life, and lying to Jazz about his past. But secret keeping was in his blood, and it would take a lot more before he would even entertain the idea of spilling his guts to either of his older siblings.

“You know Danny, if you really don’t want to tell them…” Jazz trailed off before starting again tentatively, “I just want to make sure you’ll be safe.”

“I know Jazz.” Danny knew, logically, that it was the best course of action to tell Jack and Maddie in a somewhat controlled environment. It would be much harder to get them to sit still and listen if they found out on accident. “And I want you to be here when I tell them. I’m just worried, there’s so much that could go wrong.”

“Worst comes to worst, you fly to Gotham. Jason’s there already I will be too, this time next week.” Jazz assured. “But really I think the most likely outcome is positive.”

Danny was pretty sure that “worst comes to worst” would be more than just cutting and running. In fact he could think of ten way off the top of his head that this could end in disaster. But Jazz was already nervous enough, and speaking his thoughts out loud wouldn’t help anything. They sat in silence for a bit, there wasn’t really anything else to go over without going in more conversational circles.

“Ima head to bed.” Danny said after a moment, standing and stretching out his back.

“Sweet dreams little brother,” Jazz replied, looking back at her notes, “I’m sure tomorrow will go smoothly!”

Danny laid in his bed, windows open to let in the cool breeze wafting through the summer air. Jazz would be leaving next week for Gotham. She’s going into the psychology program at Gotham City University, already had her little apartment and a paid internship lined up. Jazz always had all her ducks in a row, something Danny was a bit jealous of. He felt like he was flying by the seat of his pants most of the time, never quite sure what to do next or what he’s aiming for. Survival had been his main concern for so long, so much that he didn’t really think about actually living his life now that he was free to do so. Or half life, he supposes. Jazz and Jay will be in the same city, while he’s still hiding out in Amity Park. He wasn’t even completely sure he could leave now, Amity was his haunt, and ghosts could usually only leave their haunt for so long without any health consequences. But Danny was still half human, so all the usual rules were up in the air. He could be affected the same way as any other ghost, or have no problem at all, or anything in between, he wouldn’t know until it happened. Yet another reason he had to tell Jack and Maddie about his little ghostly problem now. If he was stuck in Amity indefinitely, they’d catch on eventually.

Danny fiddled with his phone. Not the normal one, but the dated flip phone he’d gotten nine years ago now. It’s crazy to think that he’d been here in Amity longer than he’d been in Nanda Parbat. He still has nightmares sometimes, about that night. If Jay hadn’t found him, he would’ve been a goner. Most of it’s a blur, time and trauma making the memories take on a weird sheen in his mind. He’d been so young, but when the assassin had told him Grandfather no longer needed him, he’d just felt tired. He’d tried so hard to be everything Mother and Grandfather wanted him to be. To be more like Damian. But no matter how hard he trained, when the moment came to act he always hesitated. That may as well have been a death sentence in the league.

Jay had saved him, given him a chance. Hope for a better life, where he could be a normal kid, grow up to be whatever he wanted to be. But Danny just had to go and ruin everything by going into that stupid portal. He didn’t blame Sam, never had. Danny knew better than to be messing around in the lab. Sure, Jack and Maddie should have locked it, but teenagers are stupid, and the trio probably would’ve found a way in anyways. Now he’s stuck between two worlds all over again. No way he’s telling Jay he spoiled the chance he worked so hard to give Danny. Jay’s got enough on his plate without Danny adding all his issues on the pile. They still talked relatively often, Danny telling Jay about all the regular civilian teenager stuff going on in his life, but as he got deeper and deeper into the world of Ghost Vigilanteism, Danny found it harder to talk around. Luckily, he doesn’t think Jay’s too suspicious, probably assuming regular teenage angst is the cause of the stilted conversations they’ve been having lately.

Then there’s Damian. His twin brother, who’s been in Gotham for six years now. When Jay told him that Talia had dropped Dami off in Gotham, he’d been genuinely shocked. He didn’t think Mother would be willing to let Dami stray too far from her for at least a few more years. Damian had a tough go of it, from the little Jason had told him. Danny knew Jay wasn’t telling him everything, but he could hardly begrudge that when he was holding things back too. Jay probably just didn’t want to scare him. He’d had asked Danny, after Dami had settled in Gotham in a more permanent way, if Danny wanted him to tell Dami he was still alive. Danny had debated back and forth with himself till he was sick to his stomach. What would Dami think? Would he be angry? At Danny, for being so weak, or Jay for hiding him away? Mother may have told him Danny was still alive already, but he kinda doubted it. Talia always kept the important stuff close to her chest. Dami was the same in that fashion, while Danny had to learn to keep his heart off his sleeve. He saw the news sometimes, talking about the great exploits of Batman and Robin, and oh how it made him feel so lonely. Sure, it was chaos and crazy fights most of the time, but watching his twin fly through the air by their father’s side, he seemed so free. Danny almost sent Jay all the letters he’d written, was still writing, but he’d chickened out at the last second. What if Dami thought him childish for holding on so tight to a family that wanted him dead. What if he was disappointed by how Danny was spending his time in his new “civilian” life?

Now it felt too late. How could he just pop up in Dami’s life after nine years of silence, nine years of his twin believing him dead. But if tomorrow went as badly as he thought it might, he may not have a choice in the matter. He could never force Jazz to put her life and dreams that she worked so hard for on hold just because Danny’s a half dead screw up. And Jay had already given him so much. If he had to run from Amity Park, his father would be the best bet, and Dami would discover that he’d been hiding like a coward this whole time. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, that Jack and Maddie would see through their obsession to the son they’d been hurting, hunting, for two years now, but Danny had the same foreboding feeling he’d had that night on the parapet in Nanda Parbat, right before the end of everything he’d ever known.

Protective Instincts

Hmmmmmmmmm

Idea.

So we all mostly headcanon that Jason was around tiny Damian when in the League right? And if we do demon!twins or siblings Danny they meet too?

Well what if, now hear me out, what if while taking care of them Jason notices early on how Danyal, or as he likes to be called Danny, doesn't seem to have the heart to be an assassin compared to Damian. And even under the pits influence and the LOA teachings, Jason's protective instincts of protecting kids is still strong. And notices how... lack the protection around Danny is compared to Damian, the true heir.

What if, when Jason leaves the League to start his revenge against Bruce, he fakes Danny's death by killing off the little 'guards' he did have and takes the kid with him.

But as he goes to Gotham Jason has to decide.

Drop the kid off in a good family, give him a new identity and keep him hidden or keep the kid and raise them?

[bluewxrld07]

We Can't Be Friends - Insta AU (2)

Charles Leclerc X ex!Reader

Summary: The iconic couple, Y/N L/N and Charles Leclerc, break up after five years of being together. Y/N releases a new song soon after the tabloids have released the information of their breakup, causing lots of controversy about where they both stand post their calling quits.

Warning(s): angst, hinting at heartbreak (Ariana Grande as our face claim)

ynln just posted some photos!

Location : Paris, France

liked by yourbff, lando, carlossainz, madisonbeer, halsey, charlesleclerc and 32m others

ynln : Fashion Weeeeeek in Paris :) Also got to sing some new music coming soon too 👀🤗

More to come 🫶🏼

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user Mother is slaying the game with these fits I fear

user She's literally so cute! 🥹🥹

user She looks so happy awww

yourbff Idk which song I'm ready for😩😮‍💨🙃

user HOW MANY ARE WE GETTING??!

yourbff uhhhh😬

ynln 🤪🤪

user Y'all did anyone else see that Charles is ALSO in Paris???

user He's there with Georgio Armani I'm pretty sure

lando Great, now come visit Monaco😢

ynln omw

lando REALLY😋😋

ynln no 🩵

maxfewtrell Mate, I'm hurting FOR u

user Ok but possible reunion between her and Charles? Especially if she is performing for Fashion week??? ANYONE??😰😰

fanuser just posted a photo!

liked by user2, user7, user1 and 1.593 others

fanuser : Y'all, I just met Charles Leclerc?? He's here for Paris Fashion Week???! Are we gonna get a Charyn reunion????? 👀🤩

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user I TOLD YOU ALL

user Guys chiiillll who knows if he and Y/N have even seen one another?

user They defs have, he was there when she performed at the pre-show gala 🙂

user WHAT

user I haven't heard much, but yeah he was there 😮‍💨😮‍💨

ynln just posted a photo!

liked by charlesleclerc, yourbff, Swarovski, lando and 28m others

ynln : Paris, thanks for having me; Dandelion out now🩵🥹

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user I'M SCREAMING WITHOUT THE S

user "Plant this seed' ?!!?!?!?! MISS Y/N WHAT🧐🧐😟

user Oh y'all she is COOKING I cannot wait

yourbff I can be anything you'd like?? Please??😔

ynln ughhh. I suppose😏🥰

lando Idk if I should be scarred mentally or excited for the rest of the new music coming after this release🤧

ynln Weren't you literally just singing it in the car???

lando WHO TOLD YOU

ynln maxfewtrell has entered the chat

maxfewtrell oops😋

lando You absolute muppet

ynln It's ok I know you'll never admit you're obsessed🤗🙂‍↔️

lando Sure sure

user Y'all I love this trio so much lmfao

user Why don't her and lando just date

charlesleclerc no

yourbff She's out of his league lets be real😮‍💨

lando WOW OUCH OK ENOUGH

ynln hahahaha

charlesleclerc just posted some photos!

liked by ferrari, ynln, lando, carlossainz, lewishamilton and 12m others

charlesleclerc : Had some fun during Paris Fashion Week, thanks for the invite georgioarmani

load more comments

user FOAMING at the mouth 😩🤩

user Y'all why has this post been frozen on my screen for eight hours

user SO GOOD HE LOOKS SO GOOD

carlossainz My oh my what have we here👀😋

charlesleclerc all for you 😘

lando ayo??? 😔

user I think this is all for someone whose name is ynln

user You might be onto something there

user Y'all there's pap photos of him and Y/N together on his boat??? HELP? SEND HELP??!

ynln just posted some photos!

liked by yourbff, maxfewtrell, lando, charlesleclerc, haileesteinfeld, and 37m others

ynln : Now I just can't go where you don't go

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user Y'ALL THAT'S LITERALLY THE SWEATER CHARLES WAS WEARING A COUPLE DAYS AGO

user Omfg they're together y'all DON'T PANIC

user IT'S TIME I'M NOT READY

user WHAT IF THE CAPTION IS ABOUT HIM???! I CAN'T

user Wellll most of her new album I think will be about him lol, there are soooo many signs

yourbff Glowing 💕

ynln Been a while🤗

user OH IT'S SO CONFIRMED GUYS

lando Y'all it's me actually, I'm the one she's talking about 😚😙😝

maxfewtrell You wish you knob

lando LEMME DREAM OK

ynln Let the poor man dream Max🤧🤧

lando YEAH- wait....🙂

maxfewtrell I'm gonna pissa myself from laughing 😭🤣🤣🤣

ynln just posted some photos!

liked by eltonjohn, yourbff, charlesleclerc, kellypiquet, mileycyrus, and 42m others

ynln : She's out and I'm crying! 🥹🩵🩵😭

Eternal Sunshine is not only one of my top favorite albums, but the most personal one I've made. The one, mon chérie, who inspired most of the music will always be someone I hold dear to my heart.❤️ Many tears were shed while making this, but I wanted you all to feel closer to me in a way I cannot explain. Only sing. I hope you all enjoy it.

I love you 😘

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user WAIT I'M NOT READY 🤧

user AGH THE TEARS 😢😢😢😢

user Oh she absolutely cooked with this I will be ugly crying and staying locked away for the time being 🙂‍↔️

yourbff Such a great album, I can't wait for the world to heal with you😭💕💕

ynln 🥹🤧

user Omfg guys most of these songs have me in an absolute chokehold

charlesleclerc So proud of your accomplishments, cherie. Hard work paid off 🩵

*liked by ynln*

user AYO CHARLES WHAT'RE YOU DOING HERE

user STOP YALL I CAN'T

user Between this album, the possibility of them seeing each other again, and how happy she looks I can't fathom the way my chest cannot take this

[sydwritess]

The Life of Racing Pt. 4

Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: through it all, the racing, the media, the meetings. What matters to Lando the most is you. His home life is just as important as track life. Some days, he doesn't balance it easily. But through it all, the both of you try. Going through some challenges, but always coming out together, hand in hand again.

Second Person POV

Warning: swearing

Notes: my first F1 series! Requests are open!

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08

It had only taken an hour to get to New York, being so close from Montreal. Everybody started getting off the plane, bags in hand, crowding the exit.

You waited by your seat, not wanting to get involved with the crowd yet. Once it died down, you started making your way forward, eventually exiting the plane.

You were walking through the airport, the crowd separating in their own ways. You just wanted to make it to your hotel for the night so you could get ready.

The airport was busy, security lines filled, people shopping and eating their just because, the homeless people. Just what you thought. It wasn't any different.

You looked at the address of the hotel. It was downtown. You walked outside the airport, standing off to the side and going on your Uber app.

"Y/n, you need a ride?" A voice says next to you. You look over to see Lewis standing there.

"Uh, sure. Yeah, thank you." You say. He nods, and you start walking to his car. You put your bags into his car and got in, he started driving to your hotel.

"So... you and Lando, huh?" He asks, his voice cutting sharply through the silence.

"How do you know?" You say quickly.

"Lando wasn't exactly quiet on the plane." He said, a smile forming on his face.

"Damn." You whisper. "Please don't tell anyone. He can't afford to get fired or, worse, or something -" You say.

"I won't, I promise." he says, putting his hand up from the wheel slightly.

"It's not that I'm ashamed of dating him, but..." You pause. "You see all the shit Horner's going through." You say quietly.

"Trust me. I do. It's not pretty." He laughs out. You nod your head and look out the car window.

He drove you down through the city, reaching the hotel. he parked the car and you sat in there. Not getting out.

"Do you... do you still- you know." You say quietly. He looks at you confused.

"Do you still smoke when you're nervous?" You ask.

"No, that was a couple of times in the past." He says. You sigh slightly.

"Why? What's going on?" He asks.

"I just... I don't know, maybe it's stress. But I can't like calm down. Whether it's at night, restless nights. Or at work, or just... anywhere, I guess. I don't know, people say that I'm too on edge sometimes." You say.

"Well, first of all. I wouldn't listen to them unless you see it yourself. And second... do you think that's the best way?"

"Look, I've trying multiple fucking things, a fucking north pole's list long of things and none of them work." You say. He let's out a slight laugh.

"There's this place my friend works at. On West 33rd Street," He says. You nod.

"Thank you." You say you open the door and step out of the car.

"Y/n."

"Yeah?"

"Just... don't get into much. Once a month. That's your limit. Once every other month at that." He says, pointing to you and smiling.

"I know. I won't." You say. You shut the door and get your bags out of the back before walking into the hotel.

"Hi, Y/n Y/l/n, should be one of the top floors." You say.

"Yep, I just need you to sign in here, and here's your card." The lady says. You sign on the tablet and take the card.

You walk over to the elevators and click the button. The doors open, and you walk inside, clicking the top floor button. The elevator slowly rises up, taking a couple of minutes before you finally reach your floor.

You walk down the hallway, reaching your door quickly before walking in. The room was small, which you didn't mind. You drop your bags down and take out your phone to look at the time.

4:30 P.M. You had three hours before you had to be down to time square. You grab your keys and your phone and walk out of the door.

You go down the elevator and through the lobby, walking outside and through downtown. It was only a couple of blocks until you reached 33rd Street.

You walk down it, seeing the shop lit up. You walk inside, the bell ringing. No one was in there, only the shop owner.

You look around, not even knowing what to do. Or to get.

"You must be Lewis's girl, huh?" The guy asked behind the counter.

"Friend. Just a friend." You say.

"Okay... what are you here to get? He said it's your first time buying." He said. You walk over to the counter, standing across from him.

"Yeah... I have no idea." You say longingly.

"Well, what's the main reason you need a buy?"

"Uh- I just feel like, nervous all the time, overwhelmed, maybe." You say, he nods his head.

"Can't sleep at night, just... restless."

"Restless or awake?"

"Just restless. I'll be tired but can't go to sleep. The people I talk to say I'm on edge all the time." You say.

"Alright, give me one second." He says.

He starts slowly walking around the shop, looking at everything he has. You let out a deep breath, staying at the counter.

"Alright." He says, walking back over to you.

"I got this." he says, putting a jar down on the counter.

"And these. Do you know how to do this?" he asks, placing papers down on the counter.

"Yeah, not that clueless." You say.

"Alright. And since you're good friends with Lewis... family friends discount comes to 29.30 dollars." He says.

"Thanks." You smile. You give him the money and grab your bag, walking out of the shop.

You quickly shove the small bag in the pocket of your hoodie and walk down the street. You reach the hotel again going up to your room.

You unlock your room door, shutting it quietly. You walk over to your bed and put the bag down.

You look around the room more, and you notice a door there. You didn't even notice it before. Suddenly, you hear a knock come from it.

You slowly go over to it, opening it slowly. On the other side, Lando stands there, once again, a big smile plastered on his face.

"Hey, Roomie." He smiles, walking to your side of the room.

"Hey?" You question.

"Isn't this nice. A doorway between our rooms." He said, sitting on your bed.

"You requested it, didn't you?" You ask, shutting the door and going over to your suitcase.

"No, it's just the luck of God love." He smirks. You laugh slightly, opening your suitcase and going through your clothes.

You finally find a dress to wear for tonight. It was somewhat tight fitted but ruffled, making it loose looking. It was kind of see-through to and strapless, but one shoulder was covered by the fabric, making one arm into a sleeve.

You went into the bathroom to put it on. Meanwhile, Lando was exploring your room, acting like it was a different country. You fixed the dress just right, folding it where it needed to be folded, and adjusting the sleeve.

You walk out of the bathroom and go sit at the desk, grabbing your hair supplies on the way.

"Oo, what's in here?" He asks aloud. He starts going through the bag from the smoke shop. The one you hoped he wouldn't pay attention to.

"Wait... your smoking?" He asks. You snap your head around to face him.

"It's - it's only to help me sleep." You say your body freezing.

"You can't sleep?" He asks.

"No... not really."

"Why haven't you told me?"

"I haven't really had time to. We have to hide from like everyone. And when someone does look at us, they think that were together." You say.

"But we are together."

"I know, but they don't know we are." You say, turning back around in the chair. You continued doing your hair. The room was silenced.

"So why don't we show them we are." Lando says.

"What?"

"Tonight. We show up and say we're together." He says.

"Cute."

"I know... you've told me many times before." He said flattered.

"Lando-"

"Please? Look, if we get fired, then so be it. If people give you a hard time, then I'll say it was my idea. If people want to assume shit, then let them assume it." He says.

You sat there thinking. Silent.

"I'll be back." He said, walking back into his room. He was gone for around ten minutes when he came back, full suit on and hair somewhat done.

He walked over to you as you just finished your hair.

"Let me do this. If they have something to say about it... then we'll shut them down." He said, wrapping your arms around you lightly.

"Okay." You say. He smiles before patting your shoulders.

"We have a good hour right?" He asks.

"Yeah, why?"

"Want to smoke?" He suggests, holding up the jar.

"Not here, are you crazy?" You say.

He sighs. "Fine, but later. We'll have a party." He says, smirking.

You finished getting ready for the event, Lando was ready in ten minutes, doing nothing but watching you. Once you're ready, you leave the hotel. You and Lando were in the elevator, almost to the lobby.

"Alright, so do we get the triple chocolate muffin before pictures or after pictures?" He asks. The door opens, and you both walk out.

"Your really hung on that muffin aren't you?" You tease.

"It's sounds good!" He expresses. You make your way to his car. You walk out to it, get in a drive off.

You quickly get to Rockefeller Center. You both walk in and go to the elevators. Instead of clicking the up button, Lando clicks the down button.

"Oh my God." You say quietly, smiling. He looks back at you and smiles.

You both get in the elevator, slowly descending down. You reach rock bottom quickly. You go down the hallway filled with people and reach the shop.

"Wow, look at all of these options." Lando says, mesmerized by the bakery. You stand back and let him order. The women get's the muffin quickly, and he pays and walks towards you.

"You should really have a bite. It's so good." He says, his mouth full of food.

"We need to go." You laugh out.

The two of you rush down to the elevators, getting in one and going all the way to the top floor.

"That... was the best muffin I've ever had." He said.

"Is that your new liking?" You ask.

"Remind me to order a dozen of these before we leave." He says you can't help but laugh.

It takes a while to get up to the top. When you do, you step out of the elevator into the hallway. There were benches inside where people were sat.

"Ready?" He asks, holding up your hand.

"Not with that mess." You say, pointing to the chocolate on his hands.

"Oh shit- can I just- uh." He looked around and found a towel dispensary. He takes one, wipes his hands, and throws it out.

"You are such a man, child." You say, giggling at him. He grabs your hand, walking you out to the balcony where you saw every driver there. Oscar was the first to see you.

"I fucking new it mate." He smirked.

"Good at keeping secrets." Lando said.

"Not that good." He said, turning to you. "I mean - just gawking at you every second he could, like - he was in a trance." Oscar said, smiling widely.

"You can go fuck right off." Lando joked.

"That's your fault." You say.

"Ah, amigo. Veo que finalmente conseguiste a la mujer de tus sueños." Carlos says, opening his arms, walking up to the three of you.

Lando just smiled widely.

"And she took me to get a triple chocolate muffin." Lando said, shaking hands with Carlos.

"Ah, I bet you heard non-stop about that." Carlos says, looking at you.

"Sadly." You say.

Lando and you jump around the balcony, talking to multiple other drivers before picture time. The cameraman had each person stand in a specific spot and a specific posture.

You and Lando stood of bext to each other towards the end. Multiple pictures were taken before you were free to go again.

"Mate, you ready for this premier? Time square shut down just for is." George smirked, looking at Lando.

"Yeah, I know. That's great." Lando smiled. He and George talked for another five minutes or so until Lando started pulling you away back inside.

"What are you doing?" You giggle as Lando grabs your hand and pulls you to the elevator.

"Going down to the bakery before we leave." He smirks.

"Oh my god." You mumble, smiling at him.

The elevator doors quickly open and you two start slowly going down to the basement again.

"You know... now that were official official." Lando said.

He wrapped his hand around your waist, pulling you closer to him and slowly kissing you. You hear the sleeve of his other arm rustle and look over to see him flipping off a camera in the corner of the elevator.

"Oh my." You laugh out. He smiled before kissing you one last time. Just in time for the doors to open.

You both quickly walk down to the bakery and inside.

"Yeah, hi. Can I just have your whole stock of those muffins there." Lando asks the women, pointing to the chocolate muffins.

She nods politely and starts grabbing the tray, more then 15 were on there. She quickly boxes them up, and Lando paid for them, grabbing the bag and walking back out.

You went back to the elevator and slowly rose to ground level.

"You seriously need to try this." Lando said, mouth full of food and bakers box open in his hands.

You laugh slightly before taking a small bite of his.

"What- hey no no no! That's my muffin!" He whines. You giggle at him.

"When you stop wiping your shoes in my car, I'll get my own muffin." You say, smirking.

You walk out of the elevator and through the lobby of the building.

"Wow, you really did buy the whole stock." Carlos said, catching uo with us.

"Mate, these are the best muffins I'll ever have." Lando said. He closed the box and put it back in the bag, walking our to the car and putting it in there.

You and Lando got in his car, driving off to the premier downtown.

Hey loves! Pt. 4 is here! Hope you like! Comment to be added to the tag list! Requests are open!

Tag list:

@mimisweetz @landofotographyy

@latay7

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

dark lord im haunted

i dont even care about loz, WHY ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT RN IS YOUR GRAVITY FALS LOZ AU

i read the comments and the idea of stan and ford just. Infinitely reincarnating. One doomed to die and other to kill that one.

im feral about this FORD JUST HAVING TO KILL STAN AND THEN BE LEFT ALONE WITH NOTHING BUT A BODY TO HOLD. FIDDLEFORD WHY DID YOU LET THE RUMORS GO ON FOR SO LONG

and like there is no other way this couldve gone, because the way everything was, NO ONE wouldve helped stan. Ford will probably think about ways this couldve been solved in the 10 years but the thing is, no one woulve helped stanley

maybe if he had a support system, maybe then his death wouldve been avoidable. BUT LITERALLY EVERYONE HATED HIM, AND AS FAR AS HE KNEW SO DID THE FORDS (neither did anything about the rumors)

plus 10 years with bill, even as just a voice wouldve been shitty. and adding burn scars and public resentment? he basically was isolated

all of his card were laid out in front of him, and the only way for him to win in any capacity was just that, get killed by his own brother

AAAAAAAAAAAAA FERAL ABOUT THIS. BITTING, CLAWING, SCREAMING (affectionate)

Glad i could spread the worms!

In my mind, the reason the Fords didn't stop the rumors was a combination of being young and traumatized, trying to wrangle the kingdom together, and not knowing how bad it had gotten until Stan was back and they looked around to see the hatred in everyone's eyes. For Fiddleford he was pro Stan enough that nobles trying to curry his favor during the turbulent times would either not mention Stan, or would down play their own feelings so the King wouldn't catch on. So right up until Stan showed up again he knew there were rumors but thought they were just background, not serious grumblings and not what everyone thought actually happened. For Ford the kingdom was just a sound board for his own dark thoughts. He'd grumble about Stan, someone would grumble with him, and then Ford would feel like his feelings were being vindicated and go into grouchy rants about Stan which just fueled the fires, even if in Fords mind he was just venting. Fords not political enough (despite being raised in a castle) to realize what his words were doing to Stan's reputation, he was just bitter and was happy to have willing ears that agreed. Then he saw how Stan was received and on one hand felt it was deserved but he was also horrified by how violent the reaction was. Sort of 'saying things out of anger and not realizing the impact they have' kind of thing. Fiddleford didn't make an official announcement of what happened due to inexperience, trying to manage a kingdom that had just been through a crisis, and not realizing it was something that needed to be done, as he'd told people his side of the story unofficially and thought that was enough.

Here's this for you :)

Stan held his brothers sword to his chest, sure and steady. All his brother has to do is push it forwards, and everything will finally be fixed. Ford will finally do what Stan took from him, all those years ago.

There are two ways this story could go.

In one Ford stares deep into Stan's eyes, searching, looking for a sign that this was a trick, a sick prank. Some unfunny attempt at humor gone wrong.

All he sees is his brothers expecting gaze, waiting for him. Sees the yellow grow and creep, erasing the warm brown of their childhood away. Black making its way across Stan's face, and if he doesn't do something soon this moment will end. Billl will regain control, and he won't be as willing to let Ford drive his sword through his heart as Stan is.

Stan's asking him to do this. For the first time in ten years, Stan is asking Ford to be the hero, and its the worst thing Ford could ever do.

But its Stan. His brother, his twin.

His best friend.

The trembling stops as Ford closes his eyes. Water pools in the corners as he grits his teeth, adjusts his grip, and shoves the sword forwards with all the strength the goddess has blessed him with.

Stan doesn't even scream, just grunts as the sword goes through flesh, digs in deeper and deeper and Ford yells at the top of his lungs and drives a sword through his own brothers chest until he can't do it anymore. Not because of his grip or waning strength, but because he's driven the sword all the way through, and its hilt won't let him go further.

It's a killing blow, no way to have missed.

Ford let's go of the hilt and grabs Stan's collapsing form before he can topple to the ground. He's whispering something as the blackness fades and chips away, eyes brown and light in them fading. Ford guides his brother to the ground, one hand cupping his head and the other clutching his cloak as all signs if Bill disappeared, as the sword went from a demonic nightmare to glowing dull grey. It didn't regain the light of its blessings, and the pommels eye was closed instead of gone.

Fiddlefords master piece would never- could never be used as it was supposed to again. It was a vessel of evil, had been tainted by Bills touch.

Just like Stan.

Ford choked on his tears as he stared down at the still smiling face of his brother. A blow like this- straight through the heart, where Stan had guided it, it was- there was-

Stan was dead before Ford could find a breath to scream.

He could hear Fiddleford say something, but the ringing in his ears drowned out the words as a heaving sob worked its way out of him, face damp and whole body shaking. He couldn't lay Stan flat with the sword sticking out, so in one quick rage filled move he grabbed the hilt, slid it out, and threw it to the side.

"Stanley," Ford whispered, looking into his brothers eyes. No clever spark twinkled there, no mischievous glint or hardened glare.

Just brown. Brown and lifeless.

He didn't know how long he laid there, crouched over his brothers body. He gently closed Stan's eyes, then brushed away any lingering signs of corruption. The blackness was gone, his arms both human, and what teeth poked out of his still smiling mouth were flat.

Like this, it looked exactly as it should. A man grieving over his dead brother.

Eventually arms pulled him away, and he screamed and thrashed as Stan's body was covered and hidden behind a wall of bodies. Fiddleford's voice cut through the noise, and he turned to see his friend, standing tall and face stained with tears. His mouth was moving, but Ford couldn't make out the words.

All he could hear was his own heart, strong and beating like Stan's would never be again.

Time blurred and the world grayed. They laid Stan to rest back at their small home village, on the cliffs overlooking the sea. He had a distant memory of them coming here, long ago when the world made sense.

Stan would like it.

It wasn't long after that the whispers started. Ignorant folk, talking about how evil Stan must have been, how lucky they were no one was hurt.

How thankful they were that the Hero was there to deal with him so swiftly.

It only took Ford overhearing such talk once for them to learn never to speak of Stan in front of him. Not with such poison. Not with such disdain.

Stan was a hero after all.

Ford was just his brothers murderer.

As time went on and Fiddlefords announcement did little to sway public opinion, Ford found that he could no longer find it in him to care for the troubles of Hyrule. Its evil was vanquished, and every forest and town was filled with his brothers ghost.

He needed to leave. To find someplace where people wouldn't look at him with hope and pride. Find somewhere that needed a man who could wield a sword, could face the dangers ahead and never flinch.

So one night, a year after he'd killed the last Hero of Hyrule, he drove the Master Sword into its pedestal for the next Hero to find, turned around, and left, taking what was quickly becoming known as the Blade of Bill with him.

He said no goodbyes and left only a single note to the one person who really needed to know where he was going.

Stan would get lonely while he was away, but it was fine. They'd see each other again sooner or later.

Stanley Pines was born the younger twin of Stanford Pines, in an era of peace. They were as thick as thieves, running through the forests and fields of their home.

Life was perfect, except for the voice in the back of his mind that whispered at him to kill his brother.

Then they grew, and as they did Stanley found he knew things he shouldn't. Knew secrets others hid, knew monsters others hadn't seen.

Knew how to make them bend to his whims.

Knew he had to die.

Knew Stanford had to be the one to do it.

Stanley Pines was born the twin brother of Stanford Pines, and-

Stanley Pines was born the older twin of Stanford Pines and-

Stanley Pines was born the twin of Stanford Pines but-

They were separated-

They drifted apart-

They were pitied against each other-

-in the beachs, darting through the surf-

-over the dunes, feed sure in the sand-

-up and down the mountains, stumbling into each other by chance-

-and one day Stanley Pines realized he needed to die by his brothers hand, or he would unleash a demon that would ravage the land.

Stanley Pines stared once more at the blade in front of him. A screaming voice yelled at him to draw it from its red scabbard, to finally start what he'd been waiting to do since time began. It writhed and clawed for control, urging him to start the slaughter. Stanley shoved it away, picking the dusty blade up and attaching it to his belt.

Stanford wasn't ready to kill him after all. Stanley wouldn't draw the sword until he knew for sure his twin of a thousand lifetimes had the strength to push it through. It was risky grabbing it so soon in the cycle, but circumstances had lead him here, and he knew from experience leaving it behind once he found it always led to worse odds.

"Shut it why don't you," Stanley said, rolling his eyes at the twin screaming from Bill and the blade, "you act like we haven't done this a hundred times."

With that he turned and left the crumbling temple behind. He'd left a good trail for Stanford to follow, and he didn't want to get caught too early. Best to hold off until he'd planted more seeds of his betrayal, get the Hero's blood boiling. Stanford always had an easier time the longer Stanley waited to draw the blade after all.

This time would be no different.

In another Ford does not close his eyes, cannot look away from his brothers accepting face. Cannot stop himself from looking deeper and deeper, from trying to find some evidence that he doesn't have to do this.

Stan watches as Ford's eyes harden, and his smile grows. Its getting hard to focus, hard to hold back the tide of a demon's mind. But now Ford is ready, and this'll all have been worth it.

He's learned his lesson, he's ready to make amends.

Which means the moment Ford reaches forward to pry Stan's human hand off the Master Sword, Stan's smile twitches, and his control starts to slip.

"What- What're you doin'" Stan says, words slurring slightly and stuttering as Bill claws his way back towards the front of their mind, "Ford-"

"I won't." Ford snaps, voice clipped and eyes bright with the light of determination, "I won't kill my own brother. I'll find a way to save you Stanley, I'll rip Bill from your body if its the last thing I do. I'll-"

"We'll." Fiddleford cuts in, stepping forwards, eyes just as determined as Fords, "This is our fault. We shoulda never let this get as bad as it did. I'm sorry Stanley."

And thats the last thing Stan hears, As Bill tears him away and shoves him back. Their body jerks forwards, Ultra Master Sword swinging down where Ford was standing a moment before. His brother and the King have retreated slightly, and Ford is yelling, Hero's Spirit glowing brightly at the words, but Stan- He can't-

He can't hear what his brother's saying.

Stan feels the heavy weight of Bill crushing his mortal spirit, and Stan rages as much as he can. He forces their swings to go wild, slides their feet out of alignment, makes them lose their balance. If Bill thinks Stan was screaming before, then what he's doing now must be the commands of the greater spirits themselves.

It's one thing to let Ford kill him, its another horror entirely to see his body get used to kill his twin. This wasn't supposed to happen, Ford was supposed to drive the sword through, to use the rage Stan had been fanning since their reunion to power through and trample whatever bonds they might have had.

Bill was never supposed to have a chance.

Instead, due to Fords stubbornness, Stan was watching as Bill's corruption spread across his body. Saw glimpses of his transformed body when Bill turned to follow Ford's movement, saw his worn travelers clothes warp and change into the demons preferred black and yellow noble's apparel. Saw pitch black and gleaming pauldrons manifest on his shoulders in the corner of his eyes, sharp and engraved with demonic symbols. Matching greaves kicked at Fords rolling form when his brother got too close, and then Stan's other hand came to grip the Ultra Master Sword, clawed and black, golden lines flickering as Bill completed his takeover.

Ha! Bills voice rang out in their mind, even as he said something else, something taunting based on Fords expression, out loud, Thought you could pull one over on me did you!

BILL! Stan thought snarled, clawing and writhing at the demonic spirit crushing his own, I WON'T LET YOU-

Won't let me what, kill little Fordsy here? Bills laughter rang out in their shared mind, each cackle a stab as Stan's meager control was wrenched out of his nonexistent hands, I'd like to see you try and stop me. Now shoo, your screaming is only entertaining for so long.

The weight of Bill's spirit became unbearable, and Stan yelled out for Ford, his brother's determined face the last thing he saw before the world went dark.

He wasn't asleep, not with the way he was aware of himself. There was a distant feeling of sensation, sounds muffled and far away, flashes of scenes come and gone too fast to make sense of. At one point he was struck with the knowledge that his hand was wrapped around something delicate, and he used what little power he had to loosen his fingers and drop whatever they were holding.

The burning rage that filled Bill was a triumph, even as the demon pushed Stan further into wherever he was. Something sharp and not there dug into his not thereness, like the demon was grabbing his spirit and digging his claws in. It made Stan writhe as much as he could, and he was pretty sure he'd scream if he had a mouth or thoughts to fling at the demon.

Maybe he was. He didn't know.

What he did know was that Bill couldn't crush him. Or wouldn't. He didn't know why, but every time he came close to feeling like he was going to crumble to pieces the demon would ease his crushing grip. Maybe Bill needed his spirit to control his body? Or the magic that had sealed Bill's mind inside his own had linked them in some way Bill couldn't kill Stan without killing himself. Maybe the demon just like torturing him.

Whatever the reason, it meant Stan was sort of alive in the dark not thereness. Any attempts at clawing his way out was brushed aside, any screams he might have made unheard.

There was no way to know what was happening outside. No way to know if Bill had-

No. Ford was a hero. Ford was The Hero. There was no way Bill could have killed him. Ford was out there, and someone would smack some sense into him eventually. Any moment Stan would feel the Master Sword through the chest, and then...

Wait. If he died, would he still be stuck here? Deep in what he suspected might be Bills overwhelming spirit? That sounded awful actually. Everything was dark and flickered yellow, there was a constant feeling of being watched, and the squished feeling wasn't any kind of pleasant.

What was even less pleasant was the sharp pain to their shoulder. It was the first time he'd felt his body so clearly in... months. Maybe.

However long it had been, the pain radiated through the darkness, and Stan sort of not really saw a warm glow cut through the blackness around him. It soothed the ache to his spirit, even as it really, really, hurt his actual body.

Another sharp pain hit his side, and a few minutes later it his his leg.

Then Stan was hit with agony, as Bill's grip on his spirit disappeared. The heavy feeling that had wrapped around him and shoved him deep into the dark was gone, no longer there to block off the feeling from their body.

Bill was growling something, and their chest and limbs throbbed, not just from the sharp warm points of pain, but from several other cuts and injuries. It took Stan a second to orientate himself, so used to the nothingness, but eventually he realized they were no longer in the plains surrounding the castle.

They were in some kind of grand temple, one Stan was amazed to find he didn't recognize. An image of some kind of pink lizard was on several glass stained windows, casting pink and blue light into the large room. The pews were flung into the walls, the giant doors across him shut and sealed with green and blue light.

In front of him was Ford, wearing the stupid Hero outfit Stan had spent their whole lives laughing at. He was covered in dirt and sweat, and that determined look hadn't left his eyes. Behind him, reloading his crossbow, was Fiddleford.

Stan watched, dazed as Bill exchanged blows with Ford, then felt another sharp pain hit his left arm.

He snapped his head down to see a blue, red, and gold glowing bolt sticking out of his bicep, then looked over at Fiddleford in shock.

"You just shot me!" Stan shouted, confused and trying not to collapse from the agony spreading through him, "Why did you shot me?!"

The realization that he just moved and spoke hit him just as Bill snatched control back once more. The demon screamed and swung again, but all Stan could see was Fords face.

It looked triumphant .

"Its working!" His brother shouted, dodging a swing and slashing at Stan's right arm, where he was holding the Ultra Master Sword, "Keep shooting FIddleford!"

NO?! Stan though shouted, DON'T?! JUST STAB ME ALREADY!

Another bolt hit his other leg, and Stan cursed and slammed the Ultra Master Sword into the ground so he wouldn't fall over.

"What is this?!" Stan yelled, looking up to glare at the excited faces of his brother and king, "What even is the plan here! Can't you just-"

"SHUT UP!" Bill finished, standing up and pulling the sword out of the floor. Stan hissed at the demon for interrupting him, then froze as he caught sight of his arm, where the bolt was still lodged.

A glowing light was spreading out from the bolt, turning Bill's yellow sleeve back into Stan's red one. They made a mad swing at Fords head, and Stan forced them to stumble and glance down at their legs.

Just like his arm, light was radiating from where each bolt had hit him, pushing the corruption back and bringing the feeling of control with it.

"What is wrong with you!" Stan yelled as Bill swung the sword at Fords neck, then tried to shoot a bolt of magic at Fiddleford with their sword. Stan smacked it with their other hand, disrupting the spell and wincing at the screech that rattled their mind.

"A bolt!" Stan continued, after Bill parried a blow from Ford and side stepped another bolt, "A Bolt?! Why couldn't it have been anything else! This hurts!"

"SHUTUPSHUTUP!" Bill screeched, and Stan stuck a spirit tongue at him when the demon tried to squish him down again and he bobbed away. The overwhelming power of his spirit was being pushed back with each wave of warm magic that made Stan want to scream.

"We didn't have a lot of options Stanley!" Ford shouted, rolling away from a swing and doing some kind of weird spin move that hit Stan's-

"Is that another arm!?" Stan screamed, staring at the demonic monster arm that looked like it was growing from his back. Ford slashed at it again, and the entire thing exploded, leaving nothing behind.

Thank the goddess. He wasn't sure he wasn't to figure out how to use extra-

Wait no.

"Just stab me already!" Stan yelled, trying to jerk his swings wide and mess up Bill's dodges, "Why are you dragging this out!?"

"I'm not-" Ford grunted as he rolled (and seriously, what was with all the rolling?), "-Not dragging this out!"

"We're going to save you Stanley!" Fiddleford shouted, and Stan screamed as another bolt embedded itself into his right shoulder. The bolts seemed to pulse together as one, sending a wave of comfort through his spirit while it ripped his body to shreds. The contrasting feeling made him want to throw up.

Then Bill was torn from his mind, leaving a gaping void behind. Stan gasped at the feeling, his mind too empty and silent after ten years of constant chatter.

"NO!"

The Ultra Master Sword screamed, and Stan screamed with it as Bill tried to claw his way back inside. He blinked down to see his arm, still demonic and the pommel eye staring at him, full of rage and hunger.

"This is my body now!" Bill screamed, dragging himself up Stan's arm, "You had your chance, and now-"

"I'm sorry Stanley," Ford said softly, just as the Master Sword flashed in front of him, blocking Stan's view of Bill as it separated his arm from his body.

If the bolts had been agony, tearing him to pieces as it pried Bill's spirit from his own, this was excruciating. He barely paid any attention to Ford slamming his sword through Stan's former arm, too focused on the space where it once been attached to him. Blood was already flowing from the wound, soaking his side and creating a puddle on the floor.

Between one blink and the next he was on the ground. Fiddleford was holding his face with one hand while the other held down his- where his-

It hurt.

Searing pain on top of everything else, worse than the feeling of a demon digging his claws into his spirit. No part of him was free of pain, each bolt still a blazing beacon, each scrape stinging, and the- the- his arm- it-

This time the darkness wasn't the result of a demon, and Stan welcomed it as Ford's panicked face came into view.

It was very cold, and- and-

The ceiling was very blurry and fancy. Too fancy. Stan stared at it for a while, before he remembered he wasn't supposed to be staring at anything.

Everything felt fuzzy and far away, hazy like... like...

But Bill was gone, leaving nothing but the nothingness where the demon had carved a space in Stan's mind for himself. He poked at the spot the demon used to occupy, and shuddered at the feeling of loss.

He exhaled slowly as he looked around the room.

It was his room. His old one, the one he'd lived in a lifetime ago. His tapestries were still hanging on the walls, depicting various historical battles, while his drawings and doodles filled the spaces in between. Someone had cleaned up his surprise clothes pile, and a part of him ached at the loss of mystery. Never knew if he'd grab something clean or stained, and now it was gone, tidied away.

There were a few other things that had changed. Someone had replaced the curtains (understandable, they'd been yellow before), had added a weapons rack and armor stand (the armor looked much better than it had in years, and the sword on the rack was a plain guardsman's), and finally a few chairs were next to his bed.

Ford was sitting in one, arms crossed and head back as he snored. Judging by the light spilling in through the window it was probably early morning. Nerd probably fell asleep sitting there.

Weirdo.

"Time to blow this joint." Stan mumbled, forcing himself to sit up. The world went in and out of focus a few times, so he stared at the far wall until it stopped. Getting the blanket off was another battle, one arm clumsy and the other-

Stan stared at the stump, wrapped in crisp white bandages, perplexed. Any attempts at moving his arm sent prickles of pain up his shoulder, and no arm materialized to help him.

Hmm.

"Ford," Stan said, turning to pull at Fords shirt, "Ford."

Ford awoke with a shout at Stan's touch, and he watched as his brother fell out of the chair and slammed into the ground. Ford shot to his feet a second later, eyes wild and on edge, before meeting Stan's own and freezing.

"Ford," Stan said again pointing at his missing arm, "Ford, my arms gone? Where- have you seen it?"

The expression of Fords face went funky, before landing on some kind of sad.

"Stanley," Ford said, stepping forwards to sit on the edge of the bed, "you're... you're awake."

"Arm." Stan said sadly, and he reached forwards to grab Fords sleeve, "m'arm."

"Yes," Ford grabbed Stan's hand, holding it in his own, "I had- I'm sorry Stanley. We were out of bolts, and I- I couldn't."

Stan blinked at Fords crumpling expression. After a moment he nodded, and Ford slumped, pressing Stan's fingers to his forehead. The grip wasn't tight, and Ford let go when Stan tugged.

What was tight was Ford's grip on Stan's shirt when he tried to get up.

"Stanley!" Ford yelled, pulling him back into the bed, "What are you doing?! You need to rest!"

"I needa... gotta go." Stan mumbled back, trying to wiggle out of his shirt, before flopping down and turning to face his brothers' newest funky face, "Gotta- s'was somthin' I have to do."

"What, what is it, I can-"

"Gotta get stabbed." Stan said eyes wandering over to the sword. It wasn't the right one, but maybe it'd do now that Bill was gone, "Gotta- there was- yeah."

He'd get stabbed, then everything would be better. Fords newest funny face tickled the back of his mind. It looked maybe bad, maybe sad.

"Don't be sbad." Stan said, patting his brothers face, "Gonna hero s'mthigyea?"

Ford pulled his hand down with a sigh, "Stanley, I know you're still recovering and probably won't remember this, but I need you to know."

With that he let go of Stan's hand and leaned forwards, twelve finger's cupping his face. Stan wanted to melt into the feeling, but Fords mean eyes helped him focus.

"I'm not going to stab you, and if you do something like this again? I'll tell Fiddleford to add barbs to the bolts."

"Jerks."

"We were short on time, we didn't-"

"Mean to me."

"The situation was-"

Stan didn't catch the rest. The twelve fingers were pressing into his skin, each firm and tingly on his skin. One of them was rubbing his temple, and it was the nicest thing he'd ever felt. The darkness was like a blanket, gently tugging at him and pulling him far, far away.

[katestvrns]

First time M.S

Requested by @mattscumdump

Summary: you give Matt a blowjob for the first time.

Warnings: Matt being embarrassed, sub!matt, blowjob, handjob, light hair pulling, gagging. Use of Y/N

You were facing your bestfriend Matt on his bed, sitting on your knees while he sat criss cross.

“You’ve seriously never gotten a blowjob before?” You question him. Matt groans and covers his face in his hands.

“Ugh, Y/N I don’t want to talk about this.” He whines and shakes his head, hands muffling his voice.

“Hey,” you say softly and pull his hands away. Now you were almost straddling him. “It’s okay, Matt. You just haven’t found the right girl to do it with.”

“No I have found the right girl we just haven’t done anything.”

You nod, you had a feeling Matt was talking about you but didn’t push it, not wanting to embarrass him more.

“Okay… but you’ve… touched yourself… right?” You ask him, your eyes traveling down to his grey sweatpants. His pink shirt was rode up just a little so you could see his black boxer briefs peeking through.

“Of course I have.” He sighs. “Just never… you know… by a girl.” He shrugs.

You bite the inside of your cheek and look around. “Would you want to?”

“What?” Matt asks, looking at you.

“Would you want to… you know… get a blowjob?” You ask. You bite your lip and look him in the eyes, searching for any sign that you took it too far. But he looked like he wanted you to keep going.

“From you?” He asks, stuttering a bit.

You giggle. “No from Chris. Yes from me, Silly.”

Matt lets out a breathy laugh. “Umm.. yeah. Yeah, sure.”

You nod and slowly put your hand over his clothed cock.

“Oh…” Matt moans. You felt him harden underneath of your hand. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, leaning back so he was laying down.

After he was fully hard, you scooted down so you were straddling his legs and tugged at his pants. His lifted his hips up so you could pull them down along with his boxers.

“Jesus-” you muttered when you saw his full length. He was definitely big. You thought you would have trouble fitting it into your mouth.

“What?” Matt asks, propping up in his elbows to look at you. His face was red, like he was embarrassed.

“Nothing…” you say, brushing him off.

“Okay… can you- please-”

“Relax , Matty. Im getting there.” You promise him and lean down and take it in your hand.

“Oh fuck.” He breathes. His arm goes over his head to cover his face. Pre cum was leaking out of his tip which was know swollen and red. You smile and take his tip in your mouth, moaning at the saltiness.

It was too much for Matt. He looked down at you, his mouth hung open as you sat there, sucking lightly on his tip.

“Shit!” He moaned when you started bobbing your head, pumping what you couldn’t fit.

“Oh god. Feels so good. So warm.” Matt moans and his hand goes to your hair, lightly pushing on your head. You moan and gag a little.

“Is that okay?” Matt asks through breathy moans. You nod, causing yourself to gag again.

“Fuck.” He moaned and pushed your head up and down on him. You swirled your tongue around the underneath of his shaft and brought your mouth to his tip. You sucked and swirled your tongue, saliva and pre cum collecting on your chin. Matt fisted your hair in a ponytail when you started moving your head up and down again.

“I’m close. So fucking close.” He warned you. You look up at him and the sight above you was mouth watering. Matt had sweat coating his forehead, causing his hair to stick to it. His mouth was hung open and his eyes were closed. His chest was rising and falling in heavy breaths. You pull off of him in with a pop.

“Cum for me, Matt.” You say while pumping him. You take him back in your mouth and he gives a loud whine. Finally his legs start shaking and white ropes of cum shoot out of him, painting the inside of your throat. You swallow every bit that he gives you

Matt’s a whining mess as he thanks you. You smile at him and wipe your mouth clean.

“Was that good?” You ask, sitting next to him. He opens his mouth to speak, but he was so fucked out he couldn’t say anything.

Breathing heavily, he nods. “S’good” he mumbles.

You giggle. “Okay, big boy. Why don’t you go and take a shower.” You suggest. Matt smiles sheepishly. He turns to look at you.

“Only if you join me.”

[extremely-judgemental]

Long Post (From the Drafts)

I hate speculating on the future of this series as (1) there is no consistency within the same book, let alone the series, (2) most foreshadowing gets forgotten the moment SJM finds something new interesting, and (3) she is prone to pulling ridiculous twists for the sake of shock value.

I am no literary expert, but after binging 6.5 of her books and 1 novella involving similar characters in similar worlds at a stretch, I am pretty sure I can guess how she thinks. Most of the unintentional developments and tidbits are insights in to the author’s own beliefs at this point, and that’s why I find a lot of theories about Nesta interesting.

Her future can be analysed in two ways: Character potential and Narrative potential (I make stuff up to simplify this, just go along with it). Character potential hinges on how much a character can grow from this point forward, and Nesta has her options open as the series froze at crossroads. She can choose to be a mother and submissive partner, or she can fight back for how she was treated, or she can become an exact replica of Feyre and be fully accepted into the family, or literally anything you can think of.

But the limitations for it are set by the narrative. Both have infinite possibilities in the hands of a decent, moral writer. So the following is based on the narrative potential with the upcoming High King arc in mind and clear biases SJM perpetuates in her writing.

Warning: I feel this post needs a disclaimer of sorts for the turn it took while I was writing it (I had to name the sections!) but I’m not sure what it is. This could possibly ruin your mood, you were warned.

Ember’s outbursts

In CC, Ember can be quite invasive and often steps on others’ boundaries when she believes she is right. She does this with Bryce, Danika, and even Hunt.

Though it is taken as a jovial, overly motherly instinct in that series, in the bonus chapter, it definitely comes off as a random stranger intruding in else’s business and not as someone who can read the signs of abuse.

This was the only time I felt Ember was being undeniably reasonable for once. But that isn’t enough of a catalyst to direct Nesta’s journey. She is an outsider who returns to her world at the end of this and is never going to be brought up again.

This scene instantly loses it significance the moment Nesta’s abuse is pointed out by a stranger instead of someone who is vital to her.

Gwenyth and Emerie are her closest friends and yet they don’t even know how Cassian treats her and still hold him on high regard. Every time Rhysand threatens Nesta, it happens behind closed doors, and every time Feyre defends her, it happens off page, so she can still keep the ‘good sister’ status while the narrative never entertains the gravity of the situation.

Nesta’s history with the IC is allegedly crucial to understand her abuse. Which is why Ember is the worst candidate to bring this up. She doesn’t know Nesta, or what a lost cause she was, or that she can’t be trusted to follow orders. She doesn’t know how Nesta wronged Feyre. That’s how easy it is to dismiss her accusations.

Moreover, Ember isn’t the first person to question Rhysand. Lucien, one of the core characters in the series and SJM’s favourite, brings up his atrocities more than once with Feyre and every time, she shuts it down.

Also, that too happens behind closed doors when they are alone with no one to be appalled by their past or take her side. The same is repeating with Nesta. Cassian can’t decide whose side to take, even then his hesitation is driven by the bond and not because he believes Nesta is right. Azriel who is known to oppose Rhysand often, stands idly confirming he’s against her too. Amren would gladly kill Nesta herself if she still had her powers and didn’t have to answer to Feyre.

Who is going to remind Nesta that her life isn’t normal after Ember leaves? If she chooses to defend herself, who will stand beside her?

Randall’s overlooked reaction

Randall is one of the most mature and emotionally intelligent men in CC and is absolutely devoted to the women in his life. When Ember was running away from the Autumn King, he was willing to sacrifice his life to protect her and her child. Now, Ember sees notes of this vile, cruel man who ruined her life in someone and confides in Randall as much, yet he befriends Rhysand.

It’s also easy to manipulate the narrative here as Autumn King was abusive to everyone—Ember, Bryce, Ruhn. On the other hand, Rhysand is supposedly malevolent only to his enemies or those who threaten his family—Amarantha, Hybern King, Keir, Tamlin, Eris. The only exception becomes Nesta, who in a way put his family in danger. (Pregnancy reveal falls under this category as well)

This is why Randall’s behaviour also stands out. From the beginning, he only exists in the scene to provide support and insights to his wife while Ember is the one interacting with Nesta and the IC. And suddenly, his role shifts.

Ember’s outburst amuses Rhysand enough to break the tension and that could be the end of it. Randall could’ve sidelined himself like he did until then and faded into the background. Instead, after the altercation, he bonds with Rhysand over the experiences of raising a child. You don’t bond with someone who reminds your partner of their abusive ex and have witnessed the signs yourself.

The very moment Nesta’s situation is likened to abuse through fresh eyes, it’s also immediately diminished through Randall. That is the narrative’s way of validating Rhysand’s behaviour and establishing Ember as someone who overreacts. It shows Nesta is right to give away the trove as much as Rhysand responding violently to it.

Good ol’ misogyny

Rhysand screaming at Nesta is actually a fight for (masculine) dominance that SJM glorifies. In her series, women constantly challenge men and if the man loses, he is considered ‘weak’ regardless of his character or proof in the narrative.

Let’s take Feyre as an example. She fought back against Tamlin, Lucien, and Tarquin, and these men are seen as inferior or cowards from then on. The only man who is allowed to be on par with her is Rhysand, because he is her mate.

Now, the men Nesta has defied so far are Tomas, Graysen, Hybern King, Tamlin, and Eris. All of these men also carry some sort of stain in their reputation after that. The one on equal standing with her is Cassian, again because of the bond.

And the other exception is Rhysand because no one can defy him and he is equal to or better than Cassian. Also, if Nesta is to win against him, it questions his power and masculinity, not to mention, she is taking the same spot as Feyre.

Another instance where this is blatantly obvious is when Nesta sacrifices her powers to save the lives of Feyre and Nyx. Rhysand is overcome with gratitude and he kneels to Nesta, but the very next moment, she lowers herself and hugs him. Though her deed is incomparable especially after how she was treated till then, this is to prove Rhysand doesn’t owe her anything. Whatever animosity existed until then is pacified and the scales are tipped to balance.

This can be further proved by the way Tamlin is treated even after he did something similar by resurrecting Rhysand. He is still a lesser man. Feyre/Rhysand are not even with him, and they never will be.

Nesta’s future

In order for Nesta to escape her current life, the narrative needs to acknowledge what she endured at the hands of the IC as abuse. What happens in SF is not a simple familial spat but a series of abuse to shape Nesta into their ideal soldier.

That Rhysand is a villain in her story for good reason and not because she hates him. His ‘love’ for Feyre is not an excuse enough to redeem him for imprisoning Nesta, forcing her into military training, exploiting her in his various schemes, or threatening her life on more than one occasion.

If my understanding is correct, it was after this book that SJM openly labelled Rhysand the ‘best person ever’ in an interview. The above stated are the acts of the ‘best person ever’.

This is the same woman who brushed off sexual assault as necessary evil. Three books later, Rhysand is still not held accountable, it’s not even mentioned enough. So are these outbursts or threats sufficient to make him a villain for a character who’s been crucified since the first book?

The narrative is very meticulously designed in a way that Nesta only undergoes emotional and psychological abuse and never physical, so it is easier to justify their actions.

For her life to change, either Nesta will have to completely transform herself and align with the IC or everyone else around her should take accountability for their mistakes.

Feyre and Elain admitting how they wronged her. Rhysand should get over his grudge, at least learn to stop interfering with her life. Cassian to step up and become a decent man and mate. Most importantly, all of them should start treating Nesta as a person and see more than just her history with Feyre.

I hardly believe any of it will happen. Although, since this has already been touched, there is possibility for some changes in her life but not to the extent the readers are hoping for. At best, Nesta and Rhysand will form a cordial truce like at the end of SF and find some common ground, until the next tantrum.

The whole ordeal with Dusk

Nesta will be become the High Lady of Dusk or something as SJM can’t write truly empowered characters without royal status. Given how most readers are rooting for it, I am convinced her trick worked. (I genuinely hate this idea for (1) Nesta is as incompetent as the rest of the IC (2) Cassian will be crowned High Lord and that scum doesn’t need that ego boost)

But I don’t think it will have anything to do with magic, since if magic chooses her, it instantly invalidates and diminishes Feyre’s title, and make Nesta more on par with Rhysand than her.

Also, if Nesta becomes a High Lady, she won’t be free of the IC. Cassian, who has deep seated insecurity about his status, will spiral and make her life miserable if she flourishes as a ruler. And since the IC are the ones who ‘fixed’ Nesta, none of them will appreciate her growth, instead strive to take credit for her.

Moreover, I believe the history of Dusk is a segue for Rhysand and his rise to High King than Nesta. She might be the key to the revival of Dusk, but at this point, it is unnecessary.

It’s just a barren land and only the Prison is of importance. People trapped in there are probably dead after millenniums. Reviving the court could break the Prison and set all the creatures loose. There has been no consequences since the lands were wasted or no foreshadowing so far as to why Dusk needs to exist again. It hasn’t disrupted the balance in Prythian or life in Night since the two lands merged. (But I know there is going to be some more bs)

There are many ways to link the Prison and Night; the lands merged, the magic merged, so the High Lord of Night controls the Prison. Instead, there is an elaborate tale about how Silene sought out the heir of Night, married him, passed on her magic and knowledge linked with the Prison to her offspring.

Since the magic chooses the High Lords, there was no way for Silene (a daughter of a High Queen, not Queen herself) knowing her descendants will inherit this power. But luckily, centuries later, the magic continues to choose the rulers from the same bloodline until Rhysand. There was no reason for him to be a carbon copy of Ruhn or for both to have their powers tied to the shadows.

This is again seen when Bryce calls the lands of Dusk her birthright, chooses to wield the Prison as she saw fit, and the land answers to her ‘call’. Similar reasoning might be used for Rhysand since he carries the blood of two courts now, on top of the Illyrian powers, making him the ultra powerful High Lord to exist. And so the rightful heir of two courts (even if not to this great detail, it will come into play during that discussion).

Coming back to Nesta, her silence in the bonus chapter is as much her lack of confidence in her own judgement as her acceptance of her life. She is wallowing in her guilt rather than questioning the rightness in others’ anger. Someone like her is not fit to be a ruler.

Also, the way Rhysand directs his anger is wrong but the questions he posed are valid. Nesta is the sole owner of the trove and can use it however she wants. But giving it Bryce could have gone terribly too. What if even with the Mask, she fails? What if their army still falls short against the Asteri? What if the Asteri steal the Mask from her and return to Prythian? (I had already abandoned her books at this point, but I’m guessing there was definitely some war..?)

Nesta’s punishment in SF was based on some ridiculous, unfair reasoning and still that was justified. On the other hand, these are very valid fears even though they are coming from some highly hypocritical characters.

Nesta did endanger the lives of innocent people without taking proper precautions. She acted out of her conscience and emotional impulse. That is what her story will focus on. She will be forced to learn that she wasn’t strong enough to do the right thing, that she failed to make hard choices for the sake of good. And this acceptance is what will earn the respect of the IC and make her worthy to be a true ruler. This transformation will be validated by Cassian, and later on by Rhysand/Feyre who will encourage her (or appoint her) as the High Lady, since they can’t rule two courts or the entire Prythian by themselves when they ascend as High King/Queen. Though she will have the name, she won’t have the power and will have to constantly seek the approval of the IC.

The bonus chapter was not written to shed light on Nesta’s abuse instead it suggests there is still more to her story. SF ends on a neutral note: Nesta is forgiven and accepted by her sisters. The IC has welcomed her into their family. She has a decent relationship with her mate and could possibly have a child soon. She has best friends who are closer to her than her sisters, and she’s found a place with the Valkyries. She lives in a house that she brought to life and is her ‘friend’. It’s neatly tied up if you completely ignore the abuse.

Then we come to HOFAS and its bonus chapter which is a huge setback after she sacrificed for Feyre and her family. This is tension to bait the readers. It says, ‘if you thought her story is over, think again’. All this tension will boil down to how Nesta earns the trust of the people who have learnt to only barely tolerate her. Why Rhysand will entrust Nesta of all people (over his beloved IC) with Dusk/some other status when he becomes High King. Instead of using external conflicts with the implications of Nesta’s choices in their world, or anything from Bryaxis to Koschei, it introduces emotional stakes to lure the readers. The bonus chapter is a hook, nothing more. And I think people are reading way into it.

[rainsoughtflowers]

marbles

sometime during the night, both ji-yeong and sae-byeok inched closer to you.

ji-yeong lays flat on her stomach, sprawled across the mattress without a care in the world. her arm is draped lazily over your waist, leg tucked against your own, her face squished against your shoulder. you feel her soft breaths fanning against your skin, the soft mumbles in her sleep pressed against your neck.

sae-byeok's position hasn't changed, but she's closer than before, like her body had unknowingly sought out the proximity. your heads are still turned in one another's directions, aligned almost perfectly. if you tipped your head upwards, just slightly, your noses would brush, and her breaths would become your own.

your hands are still tightly woven together, held within that small space between you, which is slowly getting smaller and smaller.

the moment of tranquil peace is miniscule. as quickly as it had formed in that cloak of darkness, the sliver of time when the world goes still and comfort is found, it's gone at the earsplitting blare of an alarm echoing in the space.

you jolt awake at the sound, scrambling into a sitting position with a pounding heart. your eyes flit rapidly across the room, searching for any signs of danger to accompany the panicked undertone of the warning alarm.

simultaneously to your actions, your stomach tightens with dread, coiling into one large lump that makes it hard to breathe.

'something isn't right.'

sae-byeok and ji-yeong get up slower than you do, but while ji-yeong groans and pulls a pillow over her face, sae-byeok sits upright, mimicking your actions of glancing around the room. when her eyes finally meet your own, a flicker of concern reflects in her eyes, accompanied with confusion and unease.

even in your anxious state, you haven't let go of each other. you squeeze her hand, once, and you don't miss the light squeeze you receive in return.

you shakily get to your feet, finding the rest of your teammates awake and doing the same. their focus is drawn to the front of the room, which remains empty, but you have little doubt that it'll remain that way for long. not when the alarm persists, a stark contrast to the usual soft music that plays to wake you up.

you, ji-yeong and sae-byeok stand at the edge of the gathered players, remaining on the steps to get a clearer view beyond the metal structures. it isn't until the doors open with a loud bang and the rush of footsteps slam against the floor does your heart sink.

triangle guards. with guns. and they're pointing the barrels in your direction.

"attention. all players, please make your way to the center of the room."

your eyes search for ji-yeong's, and you find her doing the same, head turned slightly in your direction. she looks just as confused as you feel, lips turned down into a frown, her eyes skeptical. she must've came to the same conclusion you did just moments ago.

two of the guards approach your makeshift hideout. they both make quick work of creating a space large enough to fit through, and as soon as they step inside, they're lifting their guns and barking orders. you swallow hard, unconsciously tightening your hold, shifting just the slightest bit closer to sae-byeok. player 196 leaves first, followed by the rest, which leaves you no choice but to comply. you feel sae-byeok tug you forward, and you exhale shakily before hesitantly trailing after the retreating players leaving one by one.

four different lines are formed, separated mainly by teams. a handful of the guards scatter throughout the room, turning over beds and pulling apart the structures. they look like they're searching for something, but you're not sure what exactly. it couldn't be weapons. those got confiscated the other night. perhaps it has something to do with player 101's advantage in the games? did they figure out that they've been cheating?

a guard walks down the single filed lines, and despite the fact that their faces are obscured, you feel their sharp stare as they pointedly look into each players face, regarding them with what you imagine to be a look of contempt. when they pause by your own body, glancing up and down, and you find your can't bear the brunt of their scrutiny. you lower your eyes, twisting your fingers anxiously within each other, feeling like you can finally breathe when they continue walking.

you lift your head when blue danube starts playing from the speakers, the song that usually indicates the start of the next game. this presumption is proven correct when the woman's voice announces just that.

"attention. the fourth game is about to begin. please follow the staff's instructions and swiftly make your way towards the game hall."

with that, the blue door leading to the exit is opened, and the line of players are led into the winding halls.

you smell it first, the heavy, metallic scent of blood, furthering the notion that something is undoubtedly wrong. you press your sleeve against your nose, trying to stifle the stench of death, but it persists, and you don't know why until you enter the center of the halls and glance up.

four guards and a singular player are hung from the ceiling, swaying from bound wrists on a black metal pole. blood stains their uniforms, evidence of the injuries they bore that inevitably led to their demise.

and the player that was killed is from player 101's team.

he looks the worst out of the rest. the front of his shirt is almost completely red, and you recognize injuries on his arms and chest that look strangely close to bullet holes. his face wears streaks of blood, covering every inch, even his closed eyes.

you feel sick to your stomach at the sight.

"players, what you witness before you is what remains of those who broke the rules for their own benefit. they tainted the pure and fair ideology everything here has been built upon. each and every one of you is considered an equal within the walls of this facility. you must be guaranteed the same opportunities without being disadvantaged or facing any kind of discrimination.

those words make you realize exactly what this is. the gruesome scene is not done out of pure enjoyment. out of some sick and twisted delight for inflicting pain on some cheaters.

it's a message. a warning.

you shuffle back, just barely, but your back bumps into sae-byeok's chest nonetheless. you turn, trembling uncontrollably, and you're met with sae-byeok's wide eyes darting across your face. she looks just as shaken as you feel, her chest rising and falling in uneven increments.

she looks afraid.

'sae-byeok, are you also teetering off the edge of a world thrown off balance? tumbling into a place you can't return from? sae-byeok, take my hand, and i'll pull you back and steady your scrambling thoughts.'

"we truly apologize for allowing such an unacceptable incident to occur."

-

you're back in the white room from the previous day. even with the large space and everything that's occurred, each group sticks together in tightly knit circles, heads and bodies turned towards the singular speaker in the corner of the room.

"players, welcome to the fourth game. for this game, you will be playing in teams of two. please look around and find someone you wish to play with. when two people agree to play together, shake hands to show you have become partners. let me repeat the instructions."

murmurs erupt across the room as players turn their heads, perhaps searching for a friendly face, perhaps sizing up potential candidates to form a pair with, trying to decide who has the best skill sets to help them survive the next round.

it's instinctual, the way you turn your head towards ji-yeong and look for her eyes. back when you were students and you were faced with the choice of choosing a partner, it took only a second for the two of you to find each other in the room, a quiet understanding forming partnership nurtured by a lifelong bond.

but then you turn to sae-byeok, and while her eyes are set to the ground, guarded and unreadable, conflicted even, you find yourself feeling a similar way.

it doesn't help that there's an odd number of players in the room, meaning someone has to play by themselves, or they don't get the chance to play at all. given sae-byeok's personality, what if she's left alone? what if she has no one to rely on to help her survive?

"you will have ten minutes to find your partners."

when almost a minute passes by, you find yourselves seated on the steps in the center of the room, the silence tense and charged with a million racing thoughts. gi-hun is the only one who stands, facing the group, worried lines etched into his features.

mi-nyeo walks up to him, standing far too close for comfort based on the way gi-hun's face shifts into unease, "hey handsome. let's do this, huh? i'm better than you expect, and i'm stronger than most guys, too."

despite mi-nyeo's attempts, gi-hun avoids her eyes, clearly displaying his lack of interest in partnering up with her. but the woman is desperate, probably because she's noticed the same thing you have.

someone is going to be scapegoat, and she doesn't want it to be her.

"guess what? i've been convicted of fraud five times! i never got to study, but it doesn't mean i'm not intelligent, hm?"

when gi-hun refuses to answer, still looking anywhere but her, she purses her lips and turns around, pouring all her attention onto sang-woo.

"hey, let me play with you. i'll do anything you want, just say it."

sang-woo breathes deeply, and in a way that would rival gi-hun's own avoidance, begins glancing around the room and turning his head away from her own.

"you'll be shocked to see what sort of things i can do for you. hm?" she persists, leaning closer and peering into his eyes. sang-woo flinches, remaining silent, and the woman finally gets the hint.

she turns, surveying the rest of your small group. her annoyance bleeds onto her expression.

"everyone wants to be my partner. you all noticed that, right?" no one breathes a word. she laughs, "what? can't decide? want me to choose instead, huh?"

"stop embarrassing yourself." sae-byeok speaks sharply, her words as cold as ice.

the woman pauses, glancing up to meet the girl's equally frigid eyes.

"this won't get anyone to play with you," she cuts her eyes to sang-woo, "and just be honest about it. you don't want a team with a woman or an old man."

"of course we don't, we could die!" player 196 snaps, as if it's obvious, "we already almost died in the previous round."

"this man is right." player 244 agrees, "and it was adam's rib the lord used to make eve after all. and that's the reason that we're choosing men," he glances up at mi-nyeo, "they played different roles than women."

'just say you're misogynistic.' you think bitterly.

"you idiots." ji-yeong says, unimpressed, "we're not playing in eden right now."

everyone goes quiet at her words, the silence heavy with unspoken thoughts and conflicting feelings. sae-byeok must've had enough of the blatant reluctance everyone seems to possess, for she sighs and gets up, stuffing her hands into her pockets and beginning to walk off. gi-hun panics, calling out to her with an anxious tone.

"uh, hold on a second."

sae-byeok pauses, then slowly turns her body slightly to the left. her hard stare pierces through gi-hun, and when she speaks, her voice is flat, "why? you want a girl?"

gi-hun doesn't respond, but he doesn't need to. the guilty look on his face, the way his eyes flicker away for a fraction of a second, tells her exactly what she'd already anticipated. when she comes to this understanding, she glances away, then proceeds to walk away.

"come on," you pull ji-yeong to her feet, not taking your eyes away from sae-byeok's retreating figure. she doesn't protest as you lead her through the throng of players searching for a partner. luckily, no one tries to stop you, being girls and all, which makes it easy to catch up to sae-byeok.

you tug on the edge of her sleeve, earning her attention. she looks over her shoulder, and when she recognizes your features, her guarded expression softens, and she turns around to face you fully. once she's done so, she sends you a questioning glance.

"let's sit somewhere, hm?" you ask, studying her face for any sign of agreement. you find it in the slight tip of her head, which forms a large grin across your face.

you, ji-yeong and sae-byeok find yourselves at the same steps from yesterday, putting you at the highest point of the room. you look down at all the players scrambling to find a partner, their desperate pleas falling on deaf ears. you sigh, worrying at your bottom lip as you filter through the scrambled thoughts in your head.

the obvious choice is to play with ji-yeong. she's your closest friend, and the person you trust the most in this room. the thought crossed your mind the moment you heard the announcement, so this should've been easy for you.

but you can't shake off your worry for sae-byeok. you aren't sure who she would play with. none of the male players will choose her as a partner, and with her closed off personality, you're unsure if the women would approach her either. and you have a feeling she's too prideful to find someone herself. but you don't want her to play alone. maybe she prefers it that way, but you can't imagine her odds will be in her favor.

"i think you two should play with each other." you announce with a shaky exhale. both girls snap their heads in your direction, disbelief evident by their widened eyes and parted lips.

"what? why? and what about you?" ji-yeong asks.

"i can find someone else to play with. and i don't mind playing on my own if it comes to it."

sae-byeok's lips press into a deep frown, tension forming along the space between her brows. she doesn't seem to like your plan one bit, "what if we have to play against you? what will you do then?" she asks.

"the chances of that happening are low. and i have a better shot at finding someone to play with then you guys do," you take both their hands, squeezing them tightly as you stare pleadingly into their yes, "please, just partner up. i'll be fine, really."

ji-yeong is the first to waver. she releases a long, drawn out sigh, the tension in her body loosening until she's just a pile of bones and muscle in your hands. sae-byeok, on the other hand, takes a little bit longer. her eyes bore into your own, studying you carefully. you're not sure what she's looking for. maybe another reason to disagree. a falter in your defiant stance. but she never finds it, and sae-byeok realizes this fact with startling clarity.

you watch as they turn to each other, hesitating for a moment before reaching forward and solidifying their partnership with the clasp of their hands. you sigh a little in relief, knowing that with sae-byeok's quick thinking and ji-yeong's resilience, they'll be just fine in the next game.

they'll both move on to the next round. you know it.

ji-yeong grins at you when you shift closer to her. you're aware that she's still having second thoughts, but she hides her uncertainty behind her playful tone and large, bright eyes. she lowers her voice so it's low enough for only you to hear, "don't worry, i'll make sure your girlfriend comes back to you safe and sound."

you laugh, shaking your head a little in disbelief. you don't bother to correct her. not anymore, "i know you will."

you tug her into an embrace, squeezing her as hard as you can. something hard lodges itself within your throat when your feel her small hands cling to the back of your sweater, the tightness of your lungs threatening to produce tears within your eyes when she buries her face into your shoulder. the hug lasts longer that it usually does, and you're not sure why, but you feel reluctant to let her go. as if this would be the last time in a long time you'd be able to hold her like this, and maybe subconsciously, ji-yeong recognizes that, too.

"i love you, ji-yeong." you whisper, feeling your voice crack along the edges, hearing the emotion cloaking your words. words you've said countless times before, but you feel the sudden need to repeat, to assure her of just how special she is to you.

"come on, why does this feel like a goodbye?" ji-yeong mumbles back playfully, pulling away to look into your face properly. she smiles, teasingly, but her mischievous grin feels a little forced, and there's a clear shine in her eyes, like she's also holding back the need to cry.

"it's not. that's why i won't say it."

her grin widens, "see ya later then."

you nod, then direct your attention to sae-byeok, who stood off to the side during the whole exchange, her eyes fixated on an unknown point in the room to give you both some semblance of privacy. when she no longer hears your hushed voices, she turns, and the expression on her face strikes you in the ribs.

sae-byeok looks at you with her usual intense, piercing gaze, but it feels more devastating than before, because they way she looks at you, it's as if she's trying to memorize every inch of your features. like she's drinking the sight of you in, soaking in all your perfections and peculiarities. and you find yourself doing the same.

you step forward, but hesitation makes you pause just as quickly, rooting you back into place. you want to give her a hug. to feel her heartbeat against your own. to feel the overwhelming sensation of her warmth. but as tempting as it is, you're not sure how she may feel about such a intimate display of affection, and you don't want to make her uncomfortable.

instead, you find yourself reaching for her hands, and sae-byeok's stare never wavers from your eyes as she lets you, unflinching as you drag the pads of your fingertips over her bruised knuckles and calloused palms. in the light, you notice how long and slender they are, the tiny white scars running down the length. but the warmth, that never changes.

you pull one hand back and reach into your pocket, retrieving the small container of ointment. you place it gently in the center of her palm, curling her fingers over it until it's completely out of sight. when you glance up, sae-byeok still hasn't looked away, but her eyes seem to possess both a question and a realization at the same time.

"so you have a reason to come back." you whisper, giving her hands one final squeeze before dropping them.

sae-byeok's expression hardens, but not in a defensive way. more like she's holding something in, restraining an emotion she doesn't want to break the surface. her hold around the object tightens, almost protectively, as she gives the slightest nod.

you end up being paired with another woman, one much older than you, but with a soft smile and sincere eyes. you'd noticed her right away, because everyone she approached to be partners with would brush her off or ignore her completely. you felt bad, which was the primary reason you decided to hold out her hand for her to take.

"the time for finding a partner is now over."

the player that ended up pulling the short straw is mi-nyeo. you suppose none of her desperate attempts managed to convince anyone to team up with her. she stands in the center of the room, pointing a trembling, accusing hand at every player she lands her eyes upon.

"you guys, you're all making a big mistake! do you really think you can win without me on your team?"

the door opens, leading into the space where the next game will be held. players start getting to their feet, shuffling past her without even sparing her a glance. you do your best to avoid her eyes, even when she tries tugging on your sleeve to gain your attention.

"it's me, han mi-nyeo! i've made suckers of everyone there is from dongducheon to gangnam!" she glances wildly around the room, breathing heavily as her panic rises. she shoots forward, grabbing onto a random player's jacket, "what if you have to play gonggi? or elastics? i'm an expert in those! babe, please, play with me. boys aren't very good at those!"

even after you enter the game hall and the door clicks shut, you hear her yelling, followed by a scream. you glance back, staring at the closed door. you feel your heart pound inside your chest, uncertain as to what those guards are doing to her. are they killing her because she didn't find a partner?

at least it isn't you. at least it isn't ji-yeong or sae-byeok.

it's a horrible thought. to be relieved that such a fate befalls someone else rather than yourself or someone you care about. but that's what these games have done to you. whether you wanted to change or not, you have, and you don't think you could ever go back.

the game hall replicates a neighborhood during the quiet parts of the day, where the sun is beginning to set and night is getting ready to make an appearance. the walls display a beautiful orange sky with large fluffy clouds, and you notice a fading yellow sun at the back of the room, washing the room in its yellow light.

the buildings are half done. there are gates and walls, stairs that go up, but they don't lead anywhere. they're simply there to give the illusion of a house, to make the space seem bigger than it actually is. you have no idea what kind of game could be played here. not with the strange scenic background or with the large group of triangle guards gathered at the front of all the huddled players standing right outside the door.

"attention, all players. please follow the staff to your designated positions for the game."

the triangle guards scatter, and you find yourself face to face with one of them. they pause in front of you, not saying a word before swiftly turning around and leaving you no choice but to follow, even if the uneasy feeling in your stomach persists.

'why are all the teams getting separated? aren't we playing against each other?'

you're led to a courtyard next to a house. there is a red brick wall surrounding you on nearly all sides, soft glowing streetlamps just outside. you see vases and flower beds, a twinkling windchime and faded children's drawings on the concrete.

"players. please take one bag each from the staff member before you."

the triangle guard lifts up both their arms, holding two gray drawstring bags. you hesitantly reach for it, curling your fingers uncertainly around the soft fabric. it's heavy, and you hear the clink of something shifting around in the bag. you place one hand on the bottom, feeling something hard and round.

'marbles?'

"there should be a set of ten marbles in each bag. please check to confirm the number."

you pull apart the strings, peeking inside before gently pouring them into your hand. they are all a variety of different colors, swirls of blue, green, orange and silver. the colors swirl and blend into nearly one, the glassy surface glinting in the yellow light.

you count them off, until you confirm that you have the required number. as you mindlessly move the small items around in your palm, you try to work through what sort of game would require the use of marbles. there's a lot of possibilities. some about skill, some coming down to just plain luck.

"in this game, using your set of ten marbles, you will play the game of your choice with your partner."

'what?'

"the player who manages to take all ten marbles from their partner wins."

it's funny how quickly your world can shatter with just a couple of words. it feels so insubstantial, the verbal formation of syllables that takes barely any effort to say, and yet, they strike you as deeply as if it had been the sharp end of a knife or the piercing bullet. 

do the creators even realize the weight that it holds? 

do they realize they've just killed you without stopping the beating of your heart?

two words go through your mind as you feel the rapidly beating organ drop down into your stomach, sitting there with the weight of a loss you can't even comprehend. two words, and they mean everything to you.

ji-yeong. sae-byeok.

"no." you breathe out, all your despair put into that singular word.

"you will have thirty minutes for this game. let the game begin."

you manage to tear your eyes away from the heavy objects in your palms, glancing around the room. you spot other pairs in all directions, but none bearing the characteristics of the girls you're searching for.

the panic rises, clawing its way up your throat and tearing past your trembling lips.

you shoot forward, only to get pulled back by the woman you partnered up with. she's crying uncontrollably, saying you need to stay and play, but her pleas sound like static in your ears. all you can think about is them. even with her nails digging into your wrists, her weight pulling you back, your mind is focused on the two people you care about the most.

"please, i need to see them. i need-" to see your best friend. the girl you grew up with. the girl whose been there for you through everything. and you need to see sae-byeok. the girl whose quiet and reserved nature seems to soften when you're near. the girl who looks at you like you're everything. the girl who holds your heart in her hands.

one of them is going to die, and it's going to crush you all the same.

'i should've said something. i should've held ji-yeong longer. i should've held sae-byeok. i should've-'

you feel numb as you sit down on the ground, staring wordlessly at the woman's closed fist. you decided on a game of even and odd, something simple that shouldn't take too long to complete and would be as fair as possible. but as you sit there, mumbling out your guesses, it becomes harder and harder to speak.

you're not sure when you started crying. all you know is the vague sensation of something wet sliding down your cheeks, the heavy pressure on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. the woman gives you a look of pity, but she doesn't comment on it, a simple act of kindness that you're grateful for.

as the time drags on, you begin to hear the announcement of each player getting eliminated. you wait with a baited breath for either sae-byeok's or ji-yeong's number to get called, but it never does, and you don't know if that's a good sign or not. but at least it means they're alive. for however long that lasts, death has not yet taken them.

"even." you whisper, not realizing the reason why the woman has gone impossibly still and her expression has shattered. you glance up, squinting your eyes in confusion, only for her hand to turn and reveal two marbles sitting in the center. you grab them, adding them to your pile, only to stop.

there are twenty marbles.

you both lift your heads at the same time. you think you should say something. maybe apologize. or reassure her. but it all feels wrong. it tastes bitter on your tongue, and even if you'd wanted to speak, it gets trapped in your throat.

it happens so quickly.

you hear the guard approach first. then you see the gun, raised in the woman's direction, pointed right at her temple. you see the alarm widen her eyes, her mouth forming a protest or a wail. then-

BANG !

something warm and wet splatters against your face. you blink, frozen in place as you see her body drop to the floor, a pool of blood forming beneath her head. her chest remains still, all her breaths taken within that singular sound, that piercing bullet.

you shakily get to your feet, shuffling away from the fallen player. you turn, intending to bolt away to find sae-byeok and ji-yeong, but the guards must've anticipated your intentions, for you feel the brunt of the rifle get thrusted against your head, knocking you to the ground.

you exhale shakily, dark spots dancing in your vision. you fight to stay awake, to pull you body up and try again, but your mind is spinning so fast, and your body feels so heavy all of a sudden.

someone pulls you up, dragging you across the ground towards the door. you shake your head, pouring out weak protests, but no matter how much you cry and tug at their tight hold, begging for them to allow you just a chance to see sae-byeok and ji-yeong, nothing works, and the reality of the situation finally sinks in.

'i killed them. i killed them i killed them i-'

-

all kang sae-byeok can think about as she sits on the steps of some abandoned stair case is this.

'i'm glad i didn't play with her.'

she considered it, back when the woman's voice on the speaker announced that pairs should be formed. sae-byeok doesn't trust easily. she keeps people at arms length, refusing to allow someone the opportunity to betray or hurt her in any way. but if there was anyone in these games that she trusted, it was you.

she didn't at first. when she told gi-hun as such, she truly believed that anyone who found themselves playing these games for the grand prize couldn't be a good person, herself included. but you'd proven her wrong, time and time again, and there came a point where sae-byeok couldn't deny that as much as she'd like to push you away. there's only so much willpower a person holds in their body.

there's also the mystery of your connection to each other. one that allows her to feel what you feel and so on. sae-byeok still doesn't entirely understand it. the how or why, but even she can't ignore the pull she feels towards you. she'd recognized it vaguely the day you first met at the off track betting center, when her eyes had briefly met your own, and she felt the ticking hands of time go still, her body struck with a feeling she couldn't name nor escape.

but when she turned her head, fixing her attention on your worried eyes and conflicted attention, already turned towards your friend, she decided that the two of you would not be partners. she'd rather play by herself or swallow her pride and approach another player, even if it hurt her to do so.

she'd come to terms with it, which is why she walked away.

yet, she wasn't expecting you to approach her with a different solution. she knew you were kind, you'd shown her as such when you'd put yourself in danger to protect her against deok-su's brutal kicks. when you'd given her the bottle of ointment that sits in her pocket. when you'd smiled at her, and sae-byeok felt the warmth of the sun at the gentle touch of your fingers against her own.

she hadn't expected you to be so selfless though. to willingly put yourself in a difficult position just for the chance that sae-byeok and ji-yeong would survive. she had no doubt that if the game turned out as you expected, and the three of you found yourselves competing against each other, you would've found a way to let them live.

sae-byeok feels something bitter rise in her chest when she hears the rules get explained, then something that feels a little like heartbreak. she doesn't want to imagine what's going through your head, but the images get conjured up regardless, and the idea that your cheeks have become streaked with tears, that you'd blame yourself for this situation, breaks something inside of her.

she feels a slight sting on her wrist, like nails digging into her skin, and sae-byeok wonders if you're trying to reach them.

but most of all, she feels a bit of relief.

sae-byeok is good at not getting attached. that's how she's survived for so long, here and in the real world. if she must kick someone down to live, she'll do it. she has a brother to take care of after all, and a mother to bring back.

but if she'd had to play against you, sae-byeok doesn't know if she'd be able to do it. she doesn't know if she could kill you and live with the cost.

and although she doesn't feel the same way about ji-yeong as she does about you, she does find herself hesitating. she knows how much this girl means to you. although you haven't explicitly told her so, there's a comfort in the way you two move around each other that bleeds of a friendship forged from years and years of time.

she's not sure how ji-yeong can talk like the rules don't affect her. sae-byeok is vaguely aware that it does, though. she can see the slight tremble of her hands. how she chews the inside of her cheek. but she speaks with a smile on her face, switching the conversation from topic to topic to kill the time.

but most of all, she talks about you.

sae-byeok likes hearing what she has to say. she likes getting tiny glimpses into the person you were before these brutal death games. like the fact that you're a morning person, preferring to wake up at the crack of dawn to watch the sunrise before getting a head start to your day. or the fact that you have the world's sweetest tooth, but chocolate is your favorite flavor by far.

sae-byeok has a feeling that ji-yeong is telling her these things for a greater purpose other than to fill the void of tense silence they would otherwise be left with. it doesn't take a genius to realize that she's saying these things because one of them is going to die, and ji-yeong either wants the chance to talk about the girl who is no doubt her favorite person, or she's telling sae-byeok as much information as she can before her own death.

whatever the reason is, she finds herself pocketing the information, keeping it close to her heart. she's not sure what she intends to do with it, but she cherishes it nonetheless, and she can't quite seem to let it go even if she knows it's the rational thing to do.

as the seconds tick down, sae-byeok finds herself opening up to ji-yeong. she wouldn't normally, but with their current situation, she doesn't have much to lose. and if her luck runs out and she's the one who dies, maybe ji-yeong can relay all this information to you. she regrets not saying these things sooner, but what can she do now?

"if you win the money and get out of here, what's your plan then?" ji-yeong asks suddenly.

"i'd use it to get a house where i could be with my brother first. then i'd get our mother out of the north."

ji-yeong scoffs, but not unkindly, "hey, with a prize that big, you could do a whole lot more than that. you gotta want something else too. is there anywhere you want to go?"

sae-byeok doesn't have to contemplate it for long. it's been a desire of hers for a long time, but she's never spoken it out loud, "jeju island." she mumbles quietly, a little embarrassed. it feels childish then.

"jeju island?" ji-yeong echoes. when sae-byeok nods, she waits, encouraging her to continue.

"there was a thing about it on tv. it looked exotic. it didn't look like korea at all."

she chuckles, "hey, don't you think you should dream bigger, huh? do hawaii. hold on - go to the maldives for a while instead. and have a mojito too."

sae-byeok slowly turns her head, sending ji-yeong a questioning glance, "mojito?" she repeats, the word sounding funny on her tongue.

"like the movie. lee byung-hun's in it. 'go to mojito and have a glass of maldives.'" she recites the line, but sae-byeok has never heard of it before. they didn't get a lot of streaming channels in the north, and the small glimpses of the television she'd been able to see out in public or at work didn't usually play movies, just sports or the news. when ji-yeong notices her continued puzzled state, she laughs in disbelief, "really?"

sae-byeok shakes her head.

"oh no, we gotta fix that then. well, once we're out of here, we'll have a girl's night out, the three of us, and we'll make mojitos and everything, okay?" she laughs, but the sound doesn't quite reach sae-byeok's ears. it all comes crashing back to her then.

only one of them is coming out of this game alive. there would be no girls' night out, not with all three of them present.

she has to look away to compose herself, to push down the emotion clawing its way up to the surface.

"oh," ji-yeong mumbles softly, the realization hitting her as well.

sae-byeok finds herself answering all the questions ji-yeong sends her way, and as a result, she's even asking some of her own. to be honest, she used to find ji-yeong annoying. she didn't like the way she treated everything like a joke, but as time went on and they shared their stories, sae-byeok could see the reasons why you came to love her so much.

maybe in another life, her and ji-yeong could've been friends.

when they decide on their game, it's supposed to be simple. throw a singular marble at the wall. whoever is closest wins all twenty of the small round objects. they agreed not to drag it out. it would only hurt them in the process.

but when ji-yeong let her marble slip out of her hands, landing at her feet, sae-byeok thinks this hurts more than if it had been a proper game.

"yah, what are you doing?" sae-byeok's words come out in a rush, accompanying the panic rising in her chest.

she steps towards her, unable to help the hurt masked as frustration taking hold of her entire body. she grabs a fistful of ji-yeong's sweater, shaking her as if it would make her come to her senses, but the girl just stares at her with tear filled eyes and a tiny smile.

"i lost. you won." she states simply, as if it really were that simple, but sae-byeok knows it's not. she knows it so deeply she can't help but shove her against the wall and snap.

"stop. why the hell would you try to do that?"

ji-yeong shrugs, "hey, butter fingers, what else can i say?"

"what you said..." sae-byeok begins, "making sure that i won. is that what this is?" she recalls ji-yeong's promise to you. her reassurance that she'd return sae-byeok to her safe and sound. ji-yeong eyes widens lightly, but her smile doesn't falter, and she doesn't respond, not even to deny it. sae-byeok's anger grows, "you think i'll be thankful that you did this, huh? take another throw."

"and i still wouldn't be able to win," her face twists into exasperation, "ugh, just let me lose this thing in style, okay?"

"ji-yeong, that's bullshit! stop acting cool and just do a real throw!"

she hadn't intended for her emotions to get the best of her. but by the end of it, kang sae-byeok is breathing heavily, and she appears to be on the verge of tears. ji-yeong peers up at her, the ghost of a smile twitching at the corners of her lips, and her own eyes seem to gloss over with emotion.

"i have nothing."

"what?" sae-byeok breathes out, caught off guard by her shaky response. she studies her expression, but it looks so torn and defeated, sae-byeok can't find anything that proves she's lying. but she refuses to believe that's true, not when she's conjuring the image of your smile in her mind, the way you two held onto one another before parting ways, "so she means nothing to you?"

ji-yeong's lips tremble. her voice breaks.

"she needs you more than she needs me."

kang sae-byeok feels like she's been slapped in the face. the sensation is followed by the phantom feeling of something hard and heavy being thrusted against her temple, the sharp burst of pain forcing her to squeeze her eyes shut and clench her teeth to bite down a gasp.

for a moment, she thinks you're dead, and the sudden thought is almost enough to make her break down and cry.

but somehow, sae-byeok is able to recognize that's not true. it's distant, but in her heart, she can feel the fragility of your life. it's still beating, still present. your connection hasn't severed. the flame hasn't been snuffed out, not yet.

"i know you feel it," ji-yeong mumbles, and sae-byeok doesn't have to question her to know what she's referring to. she lifts her head, her resolve wavering at the look in ji-yeong eyes, "what you two have...it's special. it's a once in a lifetime kinda thing. if she loses you..." she inhales deeply, and when she speaks, her voice comes out shaky and quiet, "it'll kill her."

something wet slides down sae-byeok's cheek, and somehow, she knows it's not because of the throbbing sensation in her head.

"i've spent practically my whole life with her. i know everything about her. i want," she pauses, taking a brief second to fix her unraveling composure, "i want to give you a chance to get to know her the same way i did," she sniffles, pressing her lips together as if to fight back the turmoil of her emotions, but no matter how hard she tries, it's still coated deeply in her words, still evident in the tears sliding down her face, "go meet your mother. go to jeju island. and," a sob rips past her throat, "take care of her, okay?"

the tears continue falling, but sae-byeok doesn't bother wiping them away. just this once, she allows herself to cry. for her, for you, for herself. for all the what ifs and could've beens. she cries because she killed ji-yeong. she cries because she's alive, and she'll get to see you again, even if it's fleeting.

she cries because she feels so deeply, and she doesn't know what to do with it.

"kang sae-byeok!"

the girl pauses in her retreating footsteps. she doesn't turn around, can't bring herself to, but she waits and waits for ji-yeong to speak.

she hears her shaky breathing, the crack in her voice when she says, "thank you," and if she did find it in herself to turn around and face her for the last time, she has no doubt she'd find a smile on her face, "for playing with me."

she flinches when she hears the gunshot. another tears slips down when she hears ji-yeong's body hit the ground. and she feels her heart sink at the announcement that follows.

"player 240, eliminated."

masterlist

[broad-shouldrs]

Hold On To Me || Chapter 8

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

word count: 5,043

summary: you weren’t supposed to be here-stuck at a summer camp your dad signed you up for. but joel’s here too: your neighbor, your boss, a single dad, frustratingly competent and infuriatingly attractive.

you shouldn’t want him. he definitely shouldn’t want you.

warnings: dbf! Joel (but he didn’t know you as a kid). age gap. au!no outbreak. pining. slow burn. phone sex. f!masturbation. m!masturbation. oral sex f!receiving. angst.

a/n: tags updated because there's finally some smut.

I have written and unwritten this chapter so many times...

also, the way Joel goes from using darlin' to baby and then to kid devastates me

find me on a03

As much back and forth as Joel had put you through recently, there was no real scenario in which you would have declined his call. Especially not tonight, when it seemed like he was so painstakingly close to kissing you again. “You answered…”, he says quietly, almost surprised that you’d give him a chance. There’s a pregnant pause and it’s almost as if you can hear his brain going a mile a minute, trying to figure out how to navigate the messy situation in front of you.

You don’t say anything, you just wait, anxiously picking at your cuticles. You think maybe the lines gone dead but then you hear his heavy sigh. For a second, you think he’s going to hang up.

“I been tryin’ to be good,” he finally admits, the tenor of his voice hesitant. “Tryin’ to do the right thing n’ stay away. But you—you’re…” He pauses again, thankfully this one much shorter than the previous.

“I could barely keep it together when I kissed you that first time. And then today… fuck .” You can imagine him nervously pacing back and forth in his living room,  passing his hand through his hair. “If your daddy knew the things I think about. The things I dream about.” 

“Tell me.” It’s more of a whisper than anything — a hushed plea. He doesn’t say anything right away and you’re sure he’s just going to apologize and you'll have to pretend once again like this conversation never happened. But you don’t want that — you want him. Your fingers tremble where they’re curled around your phone. “Joel…”, you breathe, giving him one more chance.

You hear him exhale like he’s been holding his breath. “God, you don’t know what that does to me when you say my name like that, darlin’.”

You hadn’t even registered the heat that had rushed between your legs, but hearing him say that — hearing him call you darlin’ with a completely new context — has made you all too aware.

“I meant what I said… I think about you all the time, darlin’.” His voice drops, thick and wrecked, “How you’d sound. How’d you’d feel. How good you’d look comin’ apart for me.”

You let out a small gasp and had anyone asked, you’d swear that your heart stopped for a full minute. 

“I think about that time with the rock climbin’ harness. What it’d be like with nobody there. Just me behind you. Slidin’ my hands under your shirt, just feelin’ your skin.”

You suck in a breath and press your thighs together to quiet the ache building between them. It’s not just the words — it’s his voice, like he’s imagining it as he speaks. 

“I think about the way you’d arch back into me, when I put my hands on you. Mouth on your neck, whisperin’ things I’d never usually say out loud.”

Your fingers began to trace the inside of your thigh, your thumb just skirting over the hem of your sleep shorts. 

His voice drops lower, rougher. “N’ you’d grind your ass into me when I got my hand on your chest. Thumbin’ your nipples.”

In all your texts and phone calls, you had never actually imagined getting to this point. You definitely had not expected Joel to be so unabashed with how much he actually wanted you let alone have a mouth on him. Now you don’t ever want him to shut up. “Joel…” you whimper, keening up as you slide your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts, fingertips skimming hot skin. “Don’t stop.”

He pauses — just a second — like he knows. Like you’re on Facetime. He fucking feels it. “What are you doin’ right now?”

Any embarrassment you thought you’d feel is gone, but your voice is so thin and shaky when you reply. “Touching myself.” Your fingers move lower, grazing over the damp material covering your pussy. You gasp softly, not even trying to hide it.

“Fuck.” A rough sound crackles through the line, something between a groan and a grunt. “You gonna be a good girl and let me hear you?” 

Your eyes flutter shut as you brush over your clit, making your hips rise from the mattress and your words catch in your throat. “I—“

“It’s a yes or no, darlin’.”

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, repeating the same movement. 

You hear the soft clink of Joel’s belt followed by the tentative pull of a zipper. Joel lets out a relieved groan and the sound sends a pulse straight through you.  You squeeze your eyes together, trying to imagine what his cock looks like in his hand — trying to imagine what he looked like as he stroked himself. “Wish it was you. Your fingers… ‘stead of mine.”

You hear Joel groan in agreement. “Still dressed?”

You nod.

“Can’t hear you, darlin’.”

“Yes” you breathe out, “just sleep shorts and a shirt.”

You can picture the smirk on his face as he speaks, “Take ‘em off. Your shorts.”

You rush to follow his request, your breath quickening as you put the phone on speaker and wrestle your shorts down past your thighs and kick them off your ankles. “You do that for me, darlin’?” 

You let out the smallest noise and let your legs fall wide. “Mm-hmm”

“Good girl.” 

Something in you stirs and you move back to touching yourself over your underwear. 

“If it were me,” he continues, “I’d push your pretty little panties out of the way. Bet you’d be soaked just from pressin’ back on me. I’d touch her so nice. Get my fingers all nice n’ wet.” 

You let out a soft moan and mimic his words, pushing the damp fabric of your panties to the side and pressing your middle finger to your core, lightly circling your clit. 

“Oh, fuck.” Joel grunts and you hear him spit into his hand. “Think I could just slip two fingers right inside you? Start openin’ you up for me?”

Your pussy desperately clenches around nothing. “Please…Please Joel”

“Go ahead n’ do it for me. Two fingers, nice n’ slow.”

You do as he asks, slicking your ring and middle fingers through the folds of your pussy before pressing them deep into you. You gasp, clamoring for air, gripping the bed sheets with your free hand. 

“Slow” he repeats, his voice a low, commanding rumble. "I wanna hear every fucking second of it.”

You start to move. Slowly, just as instructed. You moan soft, your hips beginning to move in sync with your hand. You can hear Joel on the other end of the line breath matching your own — heavy and ragged. “Jesus,” He groans and the sound shoots straight through you. 

Your body responds to his voice, your inner muscles clenching around your fingers, wishing it were him instead. His hands are much larger than yours and you can almost feel it — the stretch, the heat, the sheer size of him. “Keep going. Little faster now”

You whimper, fingers still moving, the rhythm more urgent. Your breath stutters, hips arching up into your own touch. “Joel…”

“Yeah, baby. Just like that. Keep sayin’ my name.” You can hear the slick sound of his fist stroking his cock. “Wish I could see you right now.  Fuckin’ hand between your thighs n’ pretty mouth all open and sweet for me.” Joel groans. “Wish I was the one makin’ you feel that good.”

You’re spiraling, every nerve lit up, every part of you aching for more. And Joel’s right there with you — his voice, a tether, a promise, a need so sharp it almost hurts. “You are.” You don’t bother holding back as your fingers move faster — the moan that slips from your lips is needy, trembling, and loud enough that you know he hears it. That he wants to hear it.

Joel groans in response, like the sound of your pleasure hits him as hard as a fist to the gut. “That’s it. That’s it, baby,” he pants. 

You’re close. Your legs have started to shake and you can feel your orgasm building — damn near impossible to hold back. 

“You let me fuck you, baby?” he murmurs, his voice more desperate. “Huh? You gonna let me push your legs apart n’ fuck your perfect little pussy?”

“Yes,” you gasp, fingers working faster, pressing the heel of your palm into your clit, your hips rolling against your hand. “Please, Joel—”

“Fuck—make you feel so good.” he growls. “Wish my cock was stretchin’ you open, keepin’ you right there on the edge.”

You whimper, nails digging into your thigh.

Joel hears it in your breath, the stuttering rhythm of your moans. “C’mon baby. Need to hear it. Need to hear you come.”

Your body tenses and you let go, his name falling from your lips as  pleasure crashes over you in waves. Your fingers curl inside you as you ride it out, pulsing around nothing but the fantasy of him.

On the other end, Joel groans, deep and broken, and you know he’s right there too. “Oh fuck — just like that. Just like that, baby. So fuckin’ — oh fuck. Shit” He comes with a muffled groan, his breath punches out of him like he’s been holding back for too long.

You remove your fingers from inside yourself and there’s a long silence, just the sound of both your breathing returning to normal. “Y’alright?”

“Mmm.” You smile, and something in your chest settles.

"Good. Call you tomorrow?"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’ve lost count of how many times it’s happened. Not every night, but enough. Sometimes, the calls are harmless. You can tell by his voice that he’s tired, and he tells you about his day, what Sarah said at dinner, or how something reminded him of camp. He says your name a little too softly, lingers a little too long in the silences. But that’s all. You hang up warm, restless, aching for something you can’t name.

But other nights, it starts the same way. A quiet, ”Thinkin’ ‘bout you, darlin’” and the unspoken need curling around the words. Those nights he says your name like it’s a secret and then it quickly spirals until it’s nothing but need. You touch yourself because he asks. He listens because he needs to. Sometimes, he talks you through it in vivid detail — every filthy word soaked in the weight of what he can’t do. What he would do.

Sometimes he’s quiet when it’s over. You think he might be trying to say something else but it never comes, just a quiet, “night, darlin’.” leaving you panting in the dark, still thinking of him. Other times, he stays. He keeps talking until your heart stops racing. 

Either way you don’t care because even if it’s messy — even if neither of you says the words — you know what it means. You want each other and you’re both terrible at pretending you don’t.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s been two weeks since you spent any significant time with Joel. You’ve been getting by on interactions spanning less than five minutes and even then they were filled with knowing glances and subtle movements that made it hard to think. Makes it hard to forget the teasing, the whispered confessions in the dark, and the way Joel’s voice goes soft when he says your name.

You and your Dad have plans that afternoon to barbeque at Joel’s — it’s been planned for weeks. You don’t know why or what you expected but you’re ready hours before the game, restlessly bouncing your leg until you’re driving your Dad nuts with it. “Go on over already, you’re stressin’ me out.” 

When Joel answers his door, he looks shocked. He didn’t expect you. Just you — alone and two hours early. Every late night call, every breath, every moan, every fucking image he’s had of you in his head, slams into him all once. Even worse, you look good. 

“Hey,” you say. “Brought peach cobbler.”

Joel doesn’t even look at the Tupperware. He stares at you. You raise an eyebrow. “You gonna let me in?”

Joel steps aside, wordless. He lets you in, eyes laser focused on you as you slip off your shoes at the door. He doesn’t even make it five minutes. You say something, laugh too easily, and the sound breaks something in him.

He steps in close. Grabs your wrist, gentle but firm. Your eyes widen. You know that look. You’ve seen it before. You saw it at camp right before he kissed you. He says your name like it’s a confession. “Why’re you here?”

“I wanted to see you,” you admit, looking up at him from under your eyelashes. “Joel—“ You start to say something else, but he cuts you off. His mouth crashes into yours before you can finish. It’s not soft. It’s not careful. He kisses you like he’s starving. It’s everything he’s been holding back. Weeks of restraint, of wanting, of needing you in ways that feel all wrong and all right at once.

His hands are on your waist and it’s already too late. No pretending this is nothing. Something’s snapped and neither of you is going to be able to put it back. You don’t breathe. Not when he deepens the kiss, his mouth brushing against yours, his hands trailing up your back, the other cupping your jaw.  You thread your fingers into his hair and kiss him back, desperate and aching, your whole body thrumming with need.

“Joel,” you whisper, when his lips move to your jaw and down the slope of your neck, open-mouthed and hungry. “Sarah?”

“Out.” he mutters into your skin, voice rough, hands sliding under your shirt, calloused fingers spreading over your ribs. “We have time. Just need to —”

He lifts you onto the counter like it’s nothing, standing between your knees, pressing in close so you can feel every inch of him. You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him in tight, gasping at the friction. “You’re like a fuckin’ dream,” he says, voice already wrecked. His head rests against yours as his hand skims up from your ankle to thigh. “Thought about this. So many times.”

“Show me”, you whisper.

Joel surges forward, grabbing your face with both hands like he can’t stand another second of distance. The kiss is messy, breathless, teeth knocking into teeth until you open for him with a soft, desperate sound, and he groans like he’s finally getting air after being underwater. His hands are everywhere. Tangling in your hair. Shrugging off the jersey. Sliding under your crop top. Tugging at it with clumsy urgency until it’s over your head and tossed aside.”Fuckin’ hell. So goddamn perfect.”

 Your bra is off a second later, and his mouth is on you — hot and wet and relentless. He sucks hard at your breast, tongue flicking over your nipple, lips sealing around it like he wants to leave a mark. Like he wants you to feel him there for days. Your fingers tangle in his hair, back arching into him with a sharp cry of his name, and he hums around you, pleased. You claw at his shirt, dragging it up his torso with shaking hands. He lifts his arms, lets you pull it off, then leans back just long enough to let you look — broad chest rising with rough, shallow breaths, dark hair scattered across tanned skin, a trail leading down to where his jeans are already unbuttoned.

Your gaze drops, and your stomach clenches. He’s hard. So hard. Pressed against the front of his briefs and straining for you. You make a sound — something low and broken — and hook your fingers in his waistband, but he catches your wrist. “Wait,” he pants, forehead pressed against yours. One hand slides between your thighs, pressing the heel of his palm against the heat shielded by denim. “Just—let me.”

He kisses you again, slower this time, swallowing the moan coming out of your mouth. He pops the button and ekes down the zipper of your shorts before turning his hand and slipping it beneath the waistband of your panties. And then he feels you.

“Fuck,” he mutters against your mouth,. “You’re soaked.”

You gasp when he strokes through you, thick fingers sliding through slick heat with no resistance. His thumb brushes your clit — just once, just enough — and your hips jerk.

“Joel—”

“I know, baby,” he murmurs, voice rough, fingers circling with slow precision. “I know. You like this, huh?”

You nod, too breathless for words. His other hand grabs your hip, holding you steady as he keeps going, two fingers teasing at your entrance, barely pushing in.“Want you to come on my fingers first,” he says, like it’s a goddamn promise. “Okay? Then whatever you want.”

Your head tips back with a shaky breath as his fingers slide deeper, spreading you open. He watches your face as he sinks his middle and ring finger in, slow and deliberate, like he wants to memorize the way your lashes flutter and the soft gasp that slips from your lips. “Jesus,” he mutters, “You feel so fuckin’ good, baby. So fuckin’ soft.”

Your hands find his shoulders, fingers digging in as you try to stay grounded. His other hand is firm on your hip, anchoring you while he fucks you with just his fingers — slow at first, a careful rhythm that curls into you and makes your thighs shake. His thumb moves in circles over your clit, slick and sure. You whimper as he presses in deeper and finds the spot that makes your whole body tighten.

“That’s it,” he breathes. “You’re doin’ so good, baby. So fuckin’ good for me.”

You nod again, helpless, hips rolling to meet each thrust. He can tell by the way you’re clenching around him, that you’re close. He leans in, mouth brushing against the shell of your ear and whispers. “C’mon, baby. Let me see you come.”

Your orgasm hits hard, consuming you and jolting you forward until you’ve leaned against Joel’s sturdy frame. Your hand digs into his shoulder as you cry out his name between pants.

Joel keeps going, slow and steady through it, watching the way your body clenches around his fingers like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Goddamn,” he whispers, voice tight.  When your breathing finally slows and your limbs go limp, he gently slips his fingers out and brings them to his mouth. You watch, wide-eyed, still dazed and trembling. He drags his tongue over his ring finger and  hums deep in his throat like you taste even better than he imagined. It’s so fucking filthy and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. Your cheeks burn, thighs still twitching from aftershocks.

Joel’s eyes meet yours, and he lets out the cutest little breathy laugh. “Shit, darlin’. Couldn’t help myself.”

You make a strangled sound and cover your face with your hands, but he pulls them away gently and kisses your knuckles. “You okay?” he murmurs, a thumb brushing your cheek. You nod. 

“More than okay.” You try to catch your breath, blinking at him through the haze of your orgasm. Your thighs are still parted around his hips, and he’s still fully dressed—his jeans undone, shirt rumpled, chest rising and falling like he’s the one who just came. His gaze skims over your face, your throat, the flushed skin between your breasts, and then lower. 

“You’re wreckin’ me.” 

You grab Joel by his shirt until he leans in and kisses you like he’s starved. Every drag of his mouth, every shift of his hips, is thick with hunger. You grab at the waistband of his jeans and this time he lets you. You tug the zipper down and shove his jeans past his thighs with one hand, quick and clumsy, dragging his boxers along until his cock presses hot and heavy against your thigh. You gasp into his mouth, your jaw left hanging open as you rest your forehead against his. “Need to feel you.” Joel’s hips twitch and he fumbles for his wallet on the counter behind you and pulls out a small gold packet, holding it like a trophy he’s just won. He takes a half step back and lets you take a moment to look at him, hand wrapped loosely around the base of his cock, the head flushed dark and wet where he’s already leaking. He’s thick, bigger than you imagined. Your breath stutters just watching him stroke himself once, like he’s trying to calm himself down.  “Jesus,” you whisper, voice caught in your throat.

Joel’s eyes flick up, and the look he gives you makes your stomach twist.

“Joel—please,” you whisper, chest heaving.

Joel tears the foil open with his teeth and rolls the condom on with shaking hands. “M’right here.” He strokes himself again, just once, and then you feel the blunt head of him just barely nudge against your entrance. 

Then — a knock at the door.

Both of you freeze. Your heart plummets . Joel stills completely, breath caught in his chest. His hand balls into a fist as he glares at the door.

“Maybe they’ll go away” you say, hopeful, your hand squeezing Joel’s bicep.

Another knock. Louder this time.

Joel’s jaw ticks. He doesn’t move at first. He’s still inside his own storm, chest rising like he’s counting backward from ten. Your body is buzzing, thighs still trembling, and Joel’s still hard, still thick against you. You can feel it. So can he. Then, reluctantly — agonizingly — he pulls back, pressing a rough kiss to your forehead, one hand cupping your face. “I swear to God,” he mutters under his breath, “if it’s another fuckin’ Jehovah’s Witness…”

Joel grabs your clothes from the floor and gives you a minute to button your shorts and re-fasten your bra as he tugs his jeans up just enough to pass for decent. “Gimme a minute”, he yells out. You try not to laugh as you pull your shirt back over your head — all nerves and frustration. You jump down from your place on the counter, and move towards the couch, flushed and dazed, trying to breathe like a normal person as Joel throws his shirt back on and opens the door.

“Hey,” your dad says, like it’s nothing. “Sorry, I was bangin’. I tried your phone but you weren’t answerin’. Did you need the cooler for tonight?”

Joel stares at him, silent for a beat too long. Behind him, you choke back a groan and sink into the couch cushions. “That’d be good,” Joel says finally, voice gruff and flat “Bit busy right now.” There’s a pause and Joel continues, lying through his teeth. “On the phone with the…cable company.”

Your dad squints his eyes, and then leans to the left slightly, looking to glance past Joel, then seeming to think better of it. “Sorry. My kid here?”

Your heart’s in your throat. Joel shifts just slightly, his arm leaning against the door frame, like he’s trying to make himself bigger and block your dad’s view.  “Just me. Her n’ Sarah stepped out for a sec. Went to the store.” He says it smooth, casual — but his voice is a little hoarse.

Your dad lingers for a moment, shifting on his feet and then nods—like he’s letting whatever thought he had go. “Alright. See you in a few.”

Your dad’s already halfway down the steps before Joel closes the door again. The silence that follows is louder than anything. Joel doesn’t move. Just stands there with his hand on the doorknob, staring at the ceiling like it personally betrayed him.

Finally, Joel turns to you, brows drawn, mouth in a hard line. “Guess we don’t have as much time as we thought.” He moves to sit next to you on the couch, knees knocking together and hands twitching where they lay in his lap. “Maybe Tuesday when Sarah’s at soccer.”

You wince, eyes fixated on the frayed edge of one of the cushions. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Joel’s face changes — just slightly. His jaw tightens. “Tomorrow?”

“Early.”

You watch the breath leave his body, like the wind was knocked right out of him. He scrubs a hand down his face, then over the back of his neck letting out a defeated sigh. After a beat of silence, you will yourself to look up at him and are faced with the most devastating, pleading eyes. Joel looks like he wants to say something else, but all he can muster up is, “Okay.” 

You don’t know what to do with yourself after that, so you slowly get up from the couch and swallow hard. “M’gonna wait for Sarah upstairs. You should probably get the grill goin’ before my dad gets back.”

You don’t see his head fall back or his palms push into eyelids as he wills away the ache building in his chest.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The smell of smoke hits you before you even step outside.

Joel’s at the grill, beer in hand, tongs in the other, working like it’s just another Saturday. Like he didn’t almost fuck you in the kitchen half an hour ago. Like his mouth hadn’t been on your skin, his hands between your legs, his cock thick and heavy against you.

You stand next to the cooler your dad dug out earlier, twisting the cap off a bottle of water just to have something to do with your hands.

Sarah’s laughing at something your dad says, feet kicked up on one of the patio chairs. She’s wearing sunglasses and sipping soda from a can, talking about some friend of hers who just got a tattoo on a dare.

The moment feels suspiciously normal. But your body’s still thrumming, aching in the worst way. You swear you can still feel Joel’s breath on your neck, the weight of him pressing into your hips. You take a steady breath and look over at him. Joel’s already looking at you, and there’s a flicker of something barely restrained, before he drops his eyes to the grill like nothing happened. Your throat tightens. 

Joel keeps his distance. His voice is steady as he talks to your dad about last night’s Rangers game . His hands are steady as he mans the grill. But, you can feel it, you can see it barely there — the tension of his shoulders and the pulse that beats in his jaw.

You take a seat next to Sarah at the patio table and Joel sets a plate in front of you, his fingers brushing yours just enough to make you jolt. “Thanks,” you murmur, not quite looking at him.

Joel sits across from you. You feel the heat of his gaze even when you’re not looking at him and you try to focus on the food in front of you. You feel something brush against your leg under the table and your heartbeat is thrumming in your ears. You hesitate, debating on pulling back but decide against it. Joel’s thigh shifts, just barely and you feel the press of his knee against yours. Solid. Warm. Grounding.

You nearly stop breathing.

The conversation hums around you but Joel is just watching you, quiet and unreadable. Your dad stands up, his hand clapping Joel on the shoulder, making him jump. “Gettin’ another. You want one?” Joel shakes his head and Sarah stands to follow him to get dessert from the kitchen.

Joel’s elbow rests on the arm of his chair and he leans in just enough to whisper to you, “Can I see you tonight?”

Your pulse jumps. You look at him. He’s not smiling. Not teasing. There’s something heavy and unguarded in his eyes that catches you off guard. It’s like he’s carrying a weight he’s been trying to hide, but now it’s pressed up close, and you can’t look away.

You swallow hard and shake your head. 

Joel  leans back in his chair, jaw clenched, and nods. His voice is somehow quieter this time. “No, you’re right. You deserve more than that.”

You blink. The weight of his words settles deep inside you, aching in a way you hadn’t expected. Before you can say anything, Sarah calls your name from the kitchen, breaking the spell. Joel shifts back in his chair, eyes falling to his plate like none of this ever happened.

After dessert, the patio’s gone quiet, the summer air thick with smoke and something heavier. Joel sat at the table, nursing the last of his beer, his chair turned halfway toward the yard. You’ve left Sarah and your dad inside packaging leftovers when you slip outside. The door clicks shut behind you, and Joel doesn’t look up. He just lets out a slow exhale, like he knew it was you by the sound alone.

“I didn’t wanna leave without saying goodbye,” you say softly.

Joel nods, eyes on the treeline. “When’s your flight?”

“Before sunrise.”

He finally looks at you, not just a glance. He looks — heavy with everything you’ve both felt but never said aloud. One that holds your whole summer — the heat of long, restless nights, the ache of words left unsaid, the barely-missed chances. 

You step closer — not too close as your dad’s still in the house and the screen door doesn’t always latch right, but enough that you can see the tight line of Joel’s jaw and the way his fingers tap restlessly against the side of his beer bottle.

There’s a silence that stretches between you that neither of you wants to break because you know what comes next.

You shift your weight. “I don’t know when I’ll be back...”

He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know how to when inside, he’s conflicted over feeling selfish and hollow all at once. He wants to beg you to stay, but just as much, he wants to tell you to go. Not only so you can  finish school and move on, but so he can finally let himself fall apart. “Ready to go?”, you hear your dad call out, breaking the unbearable silence. “Goodnight Joel”, you finally breathe out. 

“Night, kid.”

[zacountdown]

Pokémon Legends Z-A Countdown!

Are you an artist? Do you love Pokémon? Are you excited about Pokémon Legends Z-A? You're in luck!

To celebrate the release of the new Pokémon game, we're organizing a fan-run countdown, starting on September 1st! The plan is to post at least one drawing counting down to October 16th every day.

If this is something you'd be interested in participating, sign-ups will open on Sunday!

You can see our general information here and our art guidelines here.

Or, if you're on the mobile app, you can click on the read more below!

Look forward to it!

⚫ 🟢 ⚪ 🟢 ⚫ 

General Information

What is this?

This is a fan-run project to count down the days until the release of Pokémon Legends Z-A, led by Samifer (@insecateur). The goal is to have one drawing for each day, counting down from 45 days before October 16th. Why 45 days? It seemed like a good compromise between 30 and 50, and it means the countdown will start on September 1st, which is an easy date to remember! The timezone for the event will be CEST (Central European Summer Time) aka UTC+2.

How do I sign up?

Sign-ups will be open from June 29th to July 6th via a Google Form. You will know if you’ve been accepted by July 10th. From there, another form will be provided for you to send your finished piece.

What are the requirements for applying?

The base requirement is being able to draw a finished picture. That’s it! As long as you can provide something you consider “finished”, you can apply. We will not be looking for specific styles or skill levels. The point of the countdown is to have fun and celebrate Pokémon! For specifics about what you should or shouldn’t draw, and other information regarding your piece, please see the Art Guidelines below.

When is the deadline?

Your deadline will depend on which day you’re drawing for! To account for differences in timezones, your hard deadline will be three (3) days before your art is to be posted. Please let us know as soon as possible if you won’t be able to complete your piece.

If the countdown starts on September 1st and ends on October 16th, isn’t that 46 days?

The release day will feature one special artwork to end the countdown. You’ll find more information about this in the sign-up form.

⚫ 🟢 ⚪ 🟢 ⚫ 

Art Guidelines

Rules & Requirements

Your piece must be fanart of Legends Z-A, and therefore must involve characters from Z-A and/or Pokémon from Z-A (or Kalos.) Please refrain from featuring characters that have not been officially announced (i.e. please do not include anything you know from “leaks” in your art.)

Your piece must be finished. What this means depends from person to person, but basically, no rough sketches, no obvious WIP, and some quality control (i.e. please check to make sure you haven’t missed a spot when coloring, that sort of things.)

Your piece must be larger than 600 x 600 pixels, but not go beyond 1500 x 1500 pixels. Landscape and portrait are both fine. File types can be PNG or JPG. No animations. (Sorry!)

Your piece must be wholly yours. No tracing, no copying, no using genAI. Collaborations (such as one person doing the lineart and the other doing the coloring) are fine as long as it is made clear upon signing up.

Your piece must be new and kept secret until the end of the countdown. Once the countdown is over, you’ll be free to share it wherever you want.

Your piece must be safe for work and not contain offensive content. The countdown is meant to be PG.

Only one piece per artist. This means that if you decide to collaborate with someone, it will count as your only entry for both of you. (Note: this last rule might be revisited (and expanded to two pieces maximum per person) depending on the number of sign-ups. This also does not extend to potential pinch-hitting! More information can be found on the form.)

FAQ

Where can I get references?

The best places to find visual references are Bulbagarden and (for the human characters) the official Legends Z-A website. You can also find information about the Pokémon known to feature in the game as of now on the Bulbapedia page for it.

Are there style or medium requirements?

No. You can create in any visual medium you like, and you can do so in your own style! If you only draw chibi, or only do pixel art, please go ahead. Just keep the size requirements in mind, and in the case of traditional mediums, make sure to get a clear picture of your finished result.

Can I only draw Pokémon? Can I only draw humans?

Yes! Both are fine, so long as the involved Pokémon and/or humans are featured in Z-A. This includes Mega Evolutions. Pokémon can be shiny, and you can use their alternate forms (such as the various Vivillon patterns or Furfrou trims.)

Do I have to reserve specific Pokémon/characters?

No! For the countdown pieces, everyone is free to draw whatever they want, and there’s no need to worry about drawing the same Pokémon or character(s) as other people.

Can I draw characters from Pokémon X&Y?

If they’re accompanied by characters from Z-A, yes. Please do not only draw characters from Pokémon X&Y, as the point is to celebrate the upcoming Z-A!

Can I draw shipping art?

Implied shipping is fine, but we’d prefer that it not be the focus of your piece.

Can I draw OCs?

No. Only canonical human characters, please.

[miwiheroes]

How likely do you think lettergate and phonegate are to happen?

Lettergate:

Hmmm not really sure that it'll happen. I think one of the main reasons that we started thinking about it was because the idea of having Mike's letter towards Will instead of El be signed with a Love, Mike would be a very clear indication of love, like extremely obvious. So this could only happen as a way to be the BIG reveal of Mike's feelings, but I think they'll go another way with that.

There are some reasons why I think lettergate has some footing like the fact that the song playing during Mike and Will's on top of the car scene is literally Letter to Willy, instead of just being Letter to Billy. To me though, this is an extremely small detail and a larger one needs to be seen in order for me to believe he wrote letters. The tweet by the writers where they leave words out is like- super duper sus, but this is not likely to be byler because they later said it's not about a romantic couple. Also the picture they paired it with was the date of Will's disappearance so I honestly think they're going somewhere with that but in a direction that we could have never foreseen.

TLDR; lettergate has some footing, but i think it was born out of a 'cool idea' rather than actual analysis

Phonegate:

This is already canon i fear HAGAHGJDGA but I don't think it'll get a mention in S5. The Duffers don't treat their audience like idiots, and they let you come to your own conclusions by yourself a lot of the time. Having Mike admit that he did actually call Will as part of an argument in S5 feels like dredging up and reusing old stuff from over a year ago at that point in 1987. That kind of implies that Will would still be annoyed at Mike for not talking to him during that period, but that's already kinda been solved by Will's painting, their argument and what Dustin said.

I have a whole post on how phonegate not being real and it being real are both byler proofs. Also that post outlines the fact that I do believe phonegate has already been made canon, but Mike never admitted it to Will as part of his internalised homophobia. However, if it is not canon, Mike choosing not to call Will is because he was 'worrying too much about El' and was afraid that he had 'lost Will', therefore shows that he was scared to call Will because of his feelings.

TLDR; phonegate is very implied during s4, and shows mike's fear of losing will which was confirmed too. this likely won't get a mention in s5 just because it'll dig up old arguments that have already been solved.

[andromedabooks]

Lab Partners

Summary: In which the team finds out about Spencer and Nora’s relationship in a slightly less than ideal manner.

CWs/Tags: Season5!Spencer. Fluff! Established but Secret relationship. Well-meaning teasing and banter. VERY slightly suggestive connects

A/N: This is the cute version of how Spencer and Nora's relationship comes out to the team. There’s an angsty, running into each other’s arms in the field while someone is bleeding version floating in my head as well...  

For someone healing from a bullet ripping through some crucial ligaments, Spencer was shockingly mobile. He’d figured out the scooter in record time, not without a good deal of bumping into furniture and frustrated swearing that made Nora laugh entirely too hard. She relieved herself of her guilt as she let him stay most nights at her picturesque first-floor apartment in a DC brownstone under the guise of easier handicap access. She knew he mostly wanted it because he wanted to be there, to see her the instant she got back from a case where he couldn’t yet go with. Of course, she knew, but that didn’t stop her from letting him stay. 

He was, therefore, elated when he learned she’d been assigned to stay at Quantico with him for this particular case due to the complex chemical anesthetics the unsub used while the rest of the team was scattered about DC. The pair, given their combined scientific expertise, had been sequestered in the lab. 

Spencer was zooming about the lab, ecstatic to be free of Penelope’s bat-cave. However, they’d still been forced to bring one of Pen’s clunky laptops to connect them to the rest of the team via video call. 

And so, both clad in lab coats and blue nitrile gloves, the pair set to work on puzzling out this particular cocktail of toxins with the occasional chatter of the rest of the team in the background.   

“Spence, can you bring me an Erlenmeyer flask and a micropipette set?” Nora asked, voice echoing from underneath the fume hood where she’d been forced to move her atomic emission mass spectrometer so she could begin to determine what the hell this compound was made of. 

“Sure!” And Spencer zoomed off to grab her desired equipment while she flipped on the spectrometer and met him in the middle on a lab bench to begin the next test. Spencer, meanwhile, parked by her side and simply stood enamored by her diluting a sample of a victim’s blood with reagent. “You’re so pretty when you’re processing potentially toxic blood samples,” he said almost dreamily, leaning in to tuck his chin against her shoulder as she worked. 

“You’re a weirdo, Spencer Reid,” she muttered under her breath, lips quirking upwards in a smile despite herself. 

“You signed up for it, love,” he sang-songed, grinning with a level of playfulness that was reserved only for her. 

Nora broke into a proper smile and laughed despite herself. “Shut up and get me the second reagent.” She lightly shoved Spencer’s head off her shoulder with a gloved hand. 

Spencer retaliated with a kind of confidence everyone—her included in the beginning—presumed he would not have. He turned her around by hands at her waist with impressive dexterity for a man standing on one and a half legs, and he kissed her soundly. A logical part of her brain said that this was their office, that they could be seen by anyone, and that this was most definitely not acceptable behavior in the workplace. That part of her brain went quiet a lot faster than she’d like to admit. 

She leaned into him, allowing him to manipulate the tilt of her head with a hand on her jaw. His other hand trailed from her waist to her hip to her ass—which was, once again, definitely not work appropriate—while she wound her hands up to grip behind his neck. 

If Nora had been thinking about things logically, she probably would’ve considered the fact that, while the rest of the time wouldn’t see or hear them unless they called, Penelope Garcia and her about twenty different monitors likely had their laptop’s video feed pulled up on one of her screens. If she’d continued that line of logic, she would’ve anticipated the gasp when Spencer called her love that turned into shrill shrieking that echoed through that bullpen of the BAU when they kissed. It was a shriek that brought Emily and Derek sprinting into Garcia’s office in enough time to catch the pair as their hands grew less PG and kissing began to turn into eating each other’s faces. The trio stood in stunned silence for a moment before Spencer moved from kissing her lips to her jaw and her neck, then Derek seized the keyboard and frantically unmuted their feed, all but shouting: “Hey, Geniuses! Maybe don’t commit public indecency on company time!” 

They sprang apart comically, faces flushed a guilty shade of pink. Spencer actually moved so quickly that he almost fell off his scooter, and Nora had to catch him by the shoulders and set him right. She knew the team was bound to find out at some point. When they’d passed the six-month secrecy mark last week, they’d joked they were living on borrowed time. Still, she hadn’t expected it would come out like that. Nora braced for the barrage of commentary through the tinny speakers of the laptop as if she were bracing for an earthquake. 

Spencer, no doubt sensing the tension across her shoulders, drew her in with an arm around her. He reached out casually to mute the laptop, cutting off the three stooges who were all yelling over each other from upstairs. He then pulled her in tighter with his other arm around her waist. “I guess we’re going to have to fill out that disclosure paperwork now, huh?” he joked softly. He was red—arguably redder than she was—with flush spread from his neck to the tips of his ears. But, there was also some giddiness in his eyes that indicated that it wasn’t just an embarrassment to be caught with her, but a point of pride. “And I get to call you mine in public now,” he whispered just low enough that the laptop wouldn’t pick it up. 

Nora, despite all good sense, pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. This time, she knew everyone could see them.

They had precious few minutes of silence where they kissed gently before the door to the lab burst open and their trio of nosy coworkers barged in as they’d grown tired of being ignored. 

“How long?” Penelope demanded, bustling up to poke Spencer in the chest as he tucked Nora into his side again. “How long has this been going on?” 

“Officially? Six months, ten days, and 22 hours.” Of course, he remembered down to the hour. Probably the minute, too, if Nora felt like asking. 

Three jaws fell in near unison. “It’s been half a year?” Emily demanded with indignation. 

They simply nodded and let them—mostly Penelope—squawk about not being told and being deprived of their adorable relationship. 

Derek eventually slid to Spencer’s side, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good job, man,” he said with a grin that could only be described as shit-eating. “I didn’t know you had that much game, but from what I saw on that monitor, you’ve got some somethin’ bold in you I didn’t expect. I mean, since when does the good doctor back his girl against a counter?” His humorous, honeyed gaze flicked to Nora. “You teach him that trick, Johansen?” 

Spencer flushed back to a near tomato red, spluttering a defense, and Nora laughed despite everything. “He came that way. Preset, my friend,” she said, leaning back to meet Derek’s eye. “I’ve taught him a few tricks, though.” And then, because she wanted to see him blush redder, she said, “Not any you’ll get to see, of course.” 

There was a chorus of gasps, shouts, and wolf whistles while Spencer buried his head in her shoulder. “How dare you?” he groaned into the skin of her neck, and Nora laughed harder than before.

[yabadabadoodum]

NYEN PART 😼 (I got motivated)

A/n - guys I don’t even workout so if these workouts dont make sense dont cast a spell on me 🙏

you were new. Not new new or fresh out the center new. But new enough to know ..nyen was top 1. You were ‘lucky enough to breathe the same air as him.’ Or lucky enough to not get a knife at your throat when you tried to tease him.

So it was pretty much a surprise to everyone when he picked you up and sat you down and said “watch.” No hello, no hi, just..’watch’. It was even more of a surprise to see him let you in his presence while doing literal push ups,curl ups, bench-pressings or exotic workouts you didnt even know existed no hand push-up 🥹

But that was a one time thing..where he was in the mood for an audience, whats the point of having these beautiful,ethereal,majestic,outrageously veined arms if you aren’t gonna show it off? But one time turned into two..three and four. Until it became a daily thing. But not so daily to the point you went without being told, it was always nyen who had to pick you up and drop you. Right in the seat to watch him.

So why not make a small change?

-

You looked at the clock. Ticking , ticking and ticking no stopping either. You were bored. I mean who wouldn’t be bored staring at a clock tick for more than 30 minutes? With a grunt you hopped off the shelf and headed right for the ‘gym’ he called it. (Which was basically just the couch and his equipment) the sound of movements and the reek of sweat and dust filled your nose. A sign you were walking into nyens chamber. Seeing the horrendous beautiful sight of nyen sitting and risking popping a vein.

You plopped right down on the floor trusting your arms to hold you up. You could feel his usual glare on you, but not the ‘im gonna rip you piece to piece’ glare. The ‘the fuck?’ Kinda glare, thinking about it was quite humorous.

You watched nyen and his every movement. How his arms moved up and down, his every vein, how his hair looked in sweat, his whiskers, his purring, his eyes , his— wait what the fuck?

Snapping out of your thoughts. you come to realization that the #1 of the house was purring, in your presence. You wondered if it was him shaking because of the weight his body is taking or the risk of again, a vein popping.

But maybe he was actually purring. If anything you definitely thought you’d deserved to be #2 now because the #1 definitely tolerated you. You let out a chuckle but the moment you did you felt a sharp pain in your chest. You looked up to see him staring daggers right into you. Not the ‘the fuck?’ Look anymore, the ‘tell anyone im gonna make sure all 32 are out of your mouth’ look. which it was quite confusing how a single glare from him can cause pain ..did one of the daggers stab you or something?

Giving him a small nod of confirmation you got up and headed to the door. He gave the slightest of a nod back watching your every move like a hawk watching its prey. Which was quite terrifying because he could and definitely would tie you up and keep you as his. Which come on, it wouldn’t be as bad. But this was Nyen we’re talking about. It’d be anything BUT good.

So you ended up back to the top of the shelf, watching the clock tick.

You don’t know what was more important. The fact that Randal was strangling nyon , or how the purring in the distance stopped when you left

Bro guys tell me why I check my last post and the tags say nyon X nyen. I DIDNT mean to put that guys 💔 it was 2 am when I made it guys 🙁

Anywho @nyenlover69 <- thought you’d like this 🙂‍↔️

@somerandomgirlidkk here you go :3!!