#BUT. how can we be proud of making round two when we have barely put up an effort to WIN round two???

[nicohischier]

do you ever think about how maybe getting swept by the c*nes wouldn't even be that embarrassing if we were putting up our game 7 performance and still losing? it's only embarrassing because we've just rolled over and let them kill us two games in a row.

[gimmethatagustd]

pretty please | jjk

Jungkook is hopelessly in love. He's not shy about it.

○ Pairing: Ex-Boyfriend!Jungkook x Reader

○ Rating: Mature

○ Genre: Exes to lovers, a hint of angst, fluff (?)

○ Word Count: 865

○ Warnings: Kissing, that annoying thing when your nips pop out cuz it's cold outside, JK being a Loser Boy In Love, written for @realityiagons

○ Notes: I'm so proud of myself for actually writing a REAL drabble under 1k like !!!!! CRAZY !!!

○ Post Date: July 9, 2024

○ Masterlist | AO3 Crosspost

○ What was Jai listening to? Pretty Please - Jackson Wang & Galantis

“Can I kiss you?”

Jungkook thinks he sounds desperate when he asks the question, can hardly stop himself from adding, “Pretty please,” to the end of it.

He supposes it’s too late to worry about appearances. Any ounce of dignity he had left is a puddle on the ground, mixing in with the rainwater rushing along the sides of the road. It’s such a quiet night that Jungkook can hear the rushing sound of water pouring into the sewers at the end of the street.

You roll your eyes, arms crossed against your chest to hide the perky outline of your nipples poking through your thin hoodie. It’s too dark to notice them; Jungkook only sees because you’re standing under the pale yellow glow of the streetlamp Jungkook is perched on.

“Do you really have to ask?”

“Consent is sexy,” he insists.

Jungkook wants to be silly and roll his eyes, too, but they’re wide, round, and utterly eager, waiting to track each breathy inhale that lifts your shoulders and the twitch of your cheek when you try to suppress a smile.

You take a step back, and Jungkook leans forward. Your gravitational pull is the only thing ever keeping him grounded — and just barely. His leather boots slide down the slippery base of the streetlamp, which he stands on with one hand wrapped around the wet pole to keep himself from slipping completely off the base and onto his ass. He likes to think he looks like Gene Kelly, hoping to woo you back with his pretty singing voice while raindrops trickle into his eyes and drip off the tip of his nose.

“We’re wet.”

“It’s refreshing.”

You slip your fingers under the edge of your hood like you’re checking your hairline for the disaster you assume is there. “It’s ruining my hair.”

“You’re always pretty,” Jungkook insists, hanging onto your every move just like he’s hanging from the streetlamp.

Jungkook adjusts his grip on the pole. His wet skin rubbing against the wet metal makes a sound that’s awfully reminiscent of a fart. He does it again, just to hear you laugh, head thrown back far enough for your hood to fall off.

It’s sweet until your face suddenly falls, and your laughter dies on your lips — lips Jungkook knows taste sweet, knows feel just as soft as they look. He doesn’t have to imagine what it would be like to kiss them or to be kissed by them, to have them explore his body like he’s something worth finding out.

He remembers.

Sometimes, he wonders if that’s more painful than having to imagine.

“Why’d you follow me out here, Jungkook?” You frown, even as a shiver runs through your body. You wouldn't be so cold if you’d just let him hold you.

“I miss you,” Jungkook says softly. He finally lets go of the streetlamp and hops onto the ground. Muddy water splashes against his ankles, but he doesn’t worry about soiling his cuffed jeans. He can only put his energy into watching you chew at your bottom lip, knowing it means you’re nervous, not because of him, but because of how you feel about him.

“We shouldn’t.” You turn your head, giving Jungkook your cheek when he leans in slightly. He can’t tell if it’s a silent invitation for another kind of kiss or if you really are done with him.

“I know,” Jungkook agrees.

You lace your fingers with his anyway.

Jungkook has never kissed anyone in the rain before. It’s only sprinkling by now, the two of you having gotten caught in the storm at the tail-end, you barging out of the nightclub the moment you saw Jungkook with a girl around his arm. It’s only been a few months since your breakup. You haven’t moved on, and you didn’t give him the chance to admit that he hasn’t, either.

He doesn't think you've ever experienced a kiss in the rain. It's romantic, cliché, and seems like the kind of magical moment you would only share with each other.

Jungkook doesn’t know why he likes it so much.

Maybe it’s because of how you shiver when he pulls you against his chest, both your bodies siphoning heat from one another until you’re creating warmth from the friction between you. He pushes when you pull, making your bodies sway, and your feet stir more puddles when you rock on your tiptoes to keep up with the desperate way he kisses you.

He’s all hands, finding the curve of your jaw and the dip of your waist, then mapping the expanse of your back and cradling your head.

Your lips glide together, wet from rainwater and spit because you love kissing with tongue, and Jungkook will take anything you give him. He’s a puppy, so starry-eyed and lost, trailing behind you with a “pretty please” nestled on his lips, waiting to be devoured.

“I miss you,” Jungkook repeats against your lips, breathy and with his eyes closed.

You run your fingers through his soaked hair to flip the strands off his forehead and out of his face.

“I miss you, too.”

And you believe each other, just like always.

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). 

[pucksandpower]

Sleepyhead

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: sometimes race weekends can be so tiring that words escape you, but that has never been a problem for your doting boyfriend

Based on this request

You walk down the paddock path, utterly exhausted after a long day at the track. Your eyelids feel like lead weights and you can barely put one foot in front of the other. Charles has his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, practically carrying your limp body as you lean into him for support.

“Tired, mon petit chou?” Charles asks softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You just let out a little grunt in response, too drained to even form words.

As you round the corner, Logan Sargeant spots the two of you and rushes over with a big grin. “Hey guys! How’s it going?”

Charles gives him a polite smile. “Hello, mate. We’re doing well, just a bit tired after such a busy day.”

Logan turns to look at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “Y/N? Are you okay? You look kind of … mad or something.”

You blink slowly at him, your brain taking its time to process his words. Mad? Why would you be mad? You just shake your head minutely, rubbing your cheek against Charles’ shoulder.

“Oh no, she’s not angry,” Charles explains with a little chuckle. “This is just how she gets when she’s really tired. She goes all quiet and doesn’t speak. Her body language is the only way to read her moods then.”

“Yeah, and right now she’s giving off major sleepy kitten vibes,” Oscar’s voice chimes in as he joins the little group with Lando beside him. “Lando gets the exact same way when he’s exhausted. He turns into a limp noodle that I have to carry around.”

Lando huffs indignantly. “Hey! I do not!”

“Yes you do,” Oscar laughs. “Remember that time in Monza last year? You were falling asleep on your feet after the race.”

Lando rolls his eyes but a fond smile tugs at his lips. “Okay fine, maybe I do. But only sometimes!”

You let their playful banter wash over you, your heavy eyelids sliding shut as you nestle further into Charles’ embrace. You feel so safe and comforted in his arms, his solid warmth enveloping you.

“Alright, I think it’s time we got you back to the hotel for some rest,” Charles murmurs, pressing another kiss to your hair. “Say goodnight to the boys.”

You manage a tiny wave at Logan, Oscar, and Lando before allowing Charles to steer you down the paddock towards the exit. His hand runs up and down your back soothingly.

“Goodnight you two! Get some sleep!” Oscar calls after you.

Once you reach the car, Charles helps you into the passenger seat, buckling you in gently before jogging around to the driver’s side. You’re asleep before he even starts the engine, finally giving in to the exhaustion weighing you down.

The sound of a car door opening rouses you from your slumber sometime later. You slowly blink your eyes open, taking in your surroundings. Charles’ hand is tenderly stroking your cheek.

“Mon amour, we’re at the hotel. Let’s get you up to our room, hmm?”

You nod drowsily, allowing him to unbuckle you and help you out of the car. He pulls you into his side, one arm securely around your waist as you walk unsteadily towards the hotel entrance. Grateful doesn’t even begin to cover what you feel for this man by your side.

Once in the elevator, Charles shifts to face you fully, those warm green eyes shining with nothing but pure adoration. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You did so well today. I’m so proud of you for working so hard. Let’s get you nice and warm in bed now.”

You give him a tired little smile, nuzzling your face against his chest. He chuckles softly, squeezing you tighter.

Eventually you make it to the hotel room, Charles guiding you straight to the plush king bed. He helps you out of your clothes until you’re down to your underwear, then pulls back the covers for you to slip between the soft sheets. A happy sigh slips from your lips when your head hits the pillow. Charles presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Sleep well, mon cœur. I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he whispers, laying down beside you.

You immediately curl into his side, draping an arm over his stomach as you burrow your face into the crook of his neck. His arms wrap around you, making you feel so small yet so incredibly cherished. With Charles holding you snugly against his chest, you drift off into a deep, peaceful slumber.

When consciousness returns, the first thing that registers is the solid warmth of Charles’ body pressed against yours. His leg is hooked over yours, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath your cheek. There’s a pleasant ache to your limbs, the satisfying kind that comes from a good rest after a long day. You shift slightly, causing Charles to stir awake.

“Bonjour, ma belle,” he murmurs, his sexy morning voice making butterflies flutter in your stomach. You tilt your head up to meet his sleepy but adoring gaze, suddenly drowning in those green pools. God, he’s so beautiful.

“Good morning,” you whisper back, rubbing your nose against his.

Charles breaks into a dazzling grin, capturing your lips in a soft, slow kiss that steals your breath away. When he pulls back, he cups your cheek tenderly.

“Did you sleep well? Feeling more rested now?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum, smiling lazily. “Sleeping in your arms is the best.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling. “I couldn’t agree more. I love holding you close like this.”

Your heart swells three sizes as he gazes at you with such naked affection. This man loves you so fiercely, so completely. You can see it in his every look, his every touch. He treasures you in a way you never thought possible. Feeling brave, you let the words sitting heavily on your tongue finally slip out.

“Je t’aime, Charles … mon amour.”

His smile turns blinding, happier than you’ve ever seen it. “I love you too, with all my heart,” he breathes, pulling you in for another lingering kiss.

You melt into the embrace, pouring every ounce of love and gratitude you feel for this incredible man into the kiss. Nothing has ever felt so right, so perfect than being here in his arms. As Charles strokes your cheek and deepens the kiss, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’ll always feel safe, cherished, and deeply loved by this extraordinary man.

[neiptune]

the pull of you

cw: 1.7k wc, female reader, NSFW, highly suggestive, hinata is your closest friend natsu's younger brother, on a night out you end up learning he grew up to become ever the charismatic flirt who's always kinda had a thing for you :)

The first time you see Hinata Shoyo again, you’re both older but he’s much different.

It’s not that you haven’t thought about him ever after high school. His bright, juvenile presence came to mind whenever you’d text or meet up with your best friend, the memory of the afternoons spent in the room adjacent to his still so dear to your heart. Natsu, ever so proud of her little brother, never missed a chance to update you on his life either. The adventure in Rio and beach volleyball, all the efforts put in understanding an entirely new, different version of the sport he’s always loved. How he accepted a part-time job as a delivery guy, tried his best to learn a difficult foreign language, all while trying to juggle homesickness, inexperience, a distant roommate and a shift in his reality that almost made him drop everything and book a flight back to Japan.

But then Shoyo adapted, just like you and Natsu guessed he would. Because it’s what Shoyo did. And now he shines bright for Tokyo, Japan, the entire world to see.

When your best friend demanded you’d be ready as she was going to bring a surprise, you never would’ve guessed her little brother was going to be it. Last time you saw him, he was a 5’4 teenage boy jumping around with nothing but volleyball on the brain. While apparently his height hasn’t exponentially grown, everything else sure as hell did.

The rounded table is far too little for three people to be sitting around it and while this was supposed to be a regular friday night out with Natsu (drinks on her), it’s turning out to be something completely different.

Hinata is sitting close enough for his knees to be touching yours and at every subtle bump you can’t help but think of how hard and thick the legs wrapped in those dark jeans seemed right before he sat down. Everything else you don’t really have to imagine, it’s pretty much laid out for your eyes to see: his shoulders look scandalously strong in a plain t-shirt, chest oh so wide, swollen biceps and muscles all over that keep bulging and swelling at each subtle movement. And then there’s his smile, a charming grin or one barely outlined crescent, filled with beaming confidence and dangerously flirty.

Because he is flirting.

Eyes shamelessly fixed on you as the conversation between you two just flows. And Natsu doesn’t seem to be the least bit worried about her annoying little brother (who used to also kinda be your annoying little brother) being so interested in asking you questions and ignoring whatever gossip she has about her perfect boyfriend.

“I’m just sayin’” Natsu sways in her seat a little, cheeks pink and a few tangerine strands escaping her bun only to stick to her forehead “the secret to a healthy relationship is communication. And great sex”

“Natsu” you gracefully push a glass of water toward her but it gets brutally ignored as she takes another sip of her drink “may I remind you that your little brother is literally sitting here? He can hear you”

“We talk about everything” he shrugs “I always know every disgusting detail in sickening accuracy”

Your friend giggles. “True. And I do too. You see” she winks at you “he’s not so little anymore, is he? How’s your girlfriend, Sho? The one we could hear”

“Jesus, I’m not drunk enough for this conversation” you bring the beer to your lips and take a generous swig, condensation cool against the pads of your fingers.

“We broke up” for some reason, he’s looking at you as he replies and relaxes back into his chair.

“Aw, what a shame” Natsu’s cheerful tone doesn’t quite match her pout “that makes two of you”

“Thanks a lot” you grimace. So much for the confidentiality of the secret shared a few days back, one not even your own mother is yet aware of. It's your fault for letting her drink, really: the years spent with her in college clearly haven’t been a fruitful lesson.

“Nothing to be ashamed of” she clicks her tongue in disapproval “he was an idiot. Who the fuck refuses to…”

“Don’t”

“… pleasure their girlfriend?”

“Oof” Hinata tries to drown the chuckle into his own bottle “that’s why you broke up with him? Fair game”

“Since apparently we’re sharing everything” you sigh, exasperated “he broke up with me”

“Asshole” Natsu shakes her head in disbelief “you were together for so long, too. High school sweethearts. Remember him, Sho?”

“Ah, yeah” he cocks his head a little “Sasaki, was it? Wouldn’t have guessed it went on, that guy never seemed to be a great match for you”

“Man, you used to hate him” Natsu mischievously hides her chuckle behind her hand when she turns to look at you to whisper “Shoyo had such a devastating crush on you!”

“Natsu!” he groans and this time you’re not the only flustered one at the table, as crimson blossoms on his cheeks you finally get a glimpse of the Hinata you remembered. You offer a lenient smile.

“I knew”

His eyes are on you in a second, lips parted and brows knit in surprise “what? Really?”

“Yes, Shoyo” it feels good to utter his name somehow, it weighs comforting and familiar on your tongue “you weren’t exactly great at hiding whatever was on your mind back then”

“Still bad at that” there’s something in the way he says it, in the way he holds you level in his serious stare that makes you all too aware of his knees still warmly pressing to yours. God, he’s attractive. And the worst part is that he clearly knows.

“I need to go to the bathroom” Natsu interrupts the brief staring contest between you two “please keep an eye on my drink” she rises from her seat, a little unstable. You reach out to support her by the elbow.

“Let’s go together, I can-”

“I need you to keep that safe” she indicates her half empty glass “he’s already thinking of stealing my drink, I can feel it” Natsu narrows her eyes at her brother and he raises his hands in defense, amused. You sigh as you watch her stumble toward the back of the pub, where the bathroom is.

“I never understand if I need more alcohol or less, whenever I go out with her” Hinata’s good natured comment makes you chuckle.

“You could’ve spared yourself the agony, tonight. I’m used to it by now” you absentmindedly drum your fingers on the side of the empty bottle you’re still holding.

“I’m glad I came” he takes a sip from his own beer “I haven’t seen you in so long. You haven’t changed”

You scrunch your nose at that. “Really? I was a teenager the last time you saw me”

“Yeah” Shoyo agrees with a little smile as he quietly takes your features in, gaze lingering on your lips as he replies “you’re still just as beautiful. Always wasting your time on people who should be thanking their lucky star you’ve as little as glanced in their direction”

There’s no reasonable way to explain the shudder that runs down your spine, the tense sensation tugging at your stomach when you lean closer to him over the table.

“And you grew up to be such a charmer” the smile you toss at him is incredulous and maybe a little teasing. As if he was waiting for that, Hinata bites and leans closer in turn.

“What is it that he didn’t want to do?”

You scoff but it’s playful, evokes a smile. “C’mon, you can tell me. It’s just me”

“He never went down on me” your tone is almost challenging, as if you’re daring him to laugh or take the piss.

However, Shoyo remains serious, with only genuine surprise evident in his hazel irises.

“But” he tries to make sense of the absurdity you just shared “he’s the only boyfriend you ever had”

“Correct”

“Does that mean no one has ever…”

“It means exactly that” you shrug, attempting to play off embarrassment as indifference “he thought it was gross. I never asked again”

­In the end, Shoyo does laugh but the sound is unexpected, incredulous more than it is mocking. “Natsu was right. What an absolute loser” he smiles, confident in a way that is ridiculously attractive “some would kill for that opportunity”

You snort out a laugh in an attempt to mask how fast your heart is really beating “I think that’s a little extreme, I don’t know a single man who would kill to-”

“I would” Shoyo tilts his head as he studies your flustered features, imagination already running wild as he asks himself if you’d look the same while straddling his face.

“You don’t mean that”

“Oh, I mean that. I think you know exactly how much I mean that. I’m terrible at hiding what’s on my mind, after all” he gently unclasps your hand from around the beer bottle, places it on the table and turns the palm upwards, thumb tracing lazy figures on your wrist “I’ll tell you, if you want to know”

He’s not hesitating, only granting you a way out of the conversation. But do you want a way out? No one’s ever looked at you like that, with fierce determination burning behind warm, genuine affection. You know Hinata, he’s never been a liar and you doubt he’s grown to be one.

“I want to know” you find yourself murmuring, entranced by a stare that holds you hostage in the best way. He smiles, rough thumb applying the slightest pressure to your skin as it moves in circles.

“I’d first have you on my knees and against the wall. I’d want to see you, find out what makes your legs give out the quickest. I’m afraid that’s all the patience you’d get from me” his other hand sneaks beneath the table and closes around your knee, wide and warm “I’d turn you around, eat you out from behind until you can’t stand anymore, until I’d have to carry you to my bed and have you sit on my face to take what you need from me. I could go all night, have you cream on my tongue, on my face, over and over again. I’d make up for all the years you spent with that jerk, in one single night” and then maybe you’d never want to leave, he mentally adds. “I know you’d want that too” he says instead, mischievous glint in his eyes. Your mouth feels so dry.

“What makes you think that?” surprisingly, you manage to string five words together. Hinata smiles and he looks as beautiful as ever underneath the golden, dim lights of the pub.

“I can feel how hard you’re clenching your legs right now”

[daisynik7]

Strawberry Soju

🎶 I don’t need another shot of you, but I got to, my strawberry soju 🎶

Pairing: Eren x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Genre: college au, enemies-to-lovers

Word Count: ~7.0k

cw: asshole!Eren, fratboy!Eren, subby!Eren, blowjob, cunnilingus, face riding, multiple orgasms, cowgirl, unprotected sex, alcohol, language.

Summary: Two weeks before graduation, you are finally done with your senior project. This calls for a celebration with your team, including the person who annoys you the most: Eren Jaeger. The two of you learn to put your differences aside for one night, starting with a bottle of strawberry soju. 

Notes: All characters are seniors in college (21-22 years old), engineering majors. Eren is a frat boy, so some details from my series Rush will be used, but no correlation to that story. Inspired by the song “Strawberry Soju”, which I’ve been obsessed with for the past two weeks. I had a lot of fun with this, so I hope you enjoy! Reblogs, likes, and/or comments are ALWAYS appreciated, thank you so much! 

“And now, we are proud to present the winner of this year’s Senior Project Showcase: Team Titan! For their omni-directional mobility gear, designed for construction workers in the field to ensure safety whilst elevated hundreds of feet in the air! Bravo, Team Titan! Bravo!”

Professor Pyxis’s announcement leaves you and your group flabbergasted. Sasha and Connie both have their jaws dropped. Eren, who sits beside you, throws his fist in the air, exclaiming, “Oh hell yeah!” You stay in your seat, in total shock.

Pyxis stares fondly at the four of you, beckoning you towards the stage in the main engineering lecture hall. “Don’t be shy, my young engineers, come here to accept your award!” Hesitantly, you all make your way behind the podium, a polite round of applause from the other students and faculty echoing throughout the room. 

Nearly an entire semester of work has led to this. Five months of grueling research, scrambling to acquire the right materials, complicated design issues that made you want to scream. Not to mention five months spent collaborating with the bane of your existence: Eren Jaeger. The award for first place barely makes up for a semester’s worth of torture; nonetheless, it’s still a pretty trophy.

It was fate that brought the four of you together back in January, the same fate that has spited you for whatever reason, forcing you to work alongside Eren, the most obnoxious, cocky, annoying person you have ever met in your short twenty-two years of living. While you had no issues with Connie or Sasha, you and Eren did not mesh. It’s been apparent since the beginning of the semester when you were chosen to be the team leader. He scoffed, claimed that he “would be a better choice, but whatever.” Your relationship with him was doomed from that day on. 

What’s odd is that he isn’t an asshole to the entire group; his less than pleasant behavior seems to be reserved for you, and only you. He gets on perfectly fine with Sasha and Connie, who have basically played mediator for you two, keeping as much of the peace as possible whenever an argument ensues. He usually instigates it, always making an unnecessary comment to get under your skin. At this point, you’re convinced he’s doing it on purpose just to get a rise out of you, because how can one human be this irritating?! 

Despite all the petty drama, you have to admit that he’s smart. Not only that, but he also works hard and gets shit done, no matter how much grief he gives you about it. And, if you squint hard enough, he maybe is, almost, sort of…hot. Strictly speaking from an objective standpoint, that is. Based on media-driven beauty standards and common qualities that are considered conventionally attractive by society. Of course, you will never, ever admit this aloud, especially not to him. You’re convinced that if he ever finds out, his massive head will explode, already overinflated from his gigantic ego. 

Your team crowds Pyxis, who happily hands you the trophy first. Eren, no surprise, snatches it from your clutches to hold it himself, kissing it and lifting it above him like he won a major league championship. You resist the urge to roll your eyes, trying to maintain professionalism in front of the watching staff. 

“Will your team leader give a few words about the project?” Pyxis asks, gaze on you, motioning to the stand. 

You tense up, usually nervous about public speaking. Clearing your throat, you lean into the mic. “Uh, thank you Professor Pyxis and the rest of the faculty for selecting our project. This has been a labor of love for the past five months and we are honored to have it recognized. We hope that this prototype and any of the research associated with it will help improve labor conditions for those working in construction, risking their lives every day.” 

You glance at Connie and Sasha to see if they’d like to add anything else. Connie adds, “Special shoutout to grad students Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith, and Hange Zoe for helping us out a ton with our project, from offering advice to testing it out. We love you!” 

“And thank you Paradise Pizzeria and Café Utopia for fueling many late nighters throughout this whole semester! You rock!” Sasha exclaims, resulting in laughter from the audience. 

Eren grabs the mic from the stand, yelling, “This is dedicated to my fraternity brothers, for providing moral support during these trying times! Alpha Tau for life!” He holds the trophy in one hand, using the other to salute an inverted fist at his chest, sticking his tongue out.  

This time, you don’t contain your eye roll as the crowd laughs even louder, clearly amused by it. He passes the microphone back to Pyxis. “Fantastic! I love the enthusiasm of this team. Let’s give them all another big round of applause!”

After the presentation is over, Pyxis instructs, “They’d like to take your picture next to the ODM gear. The photographers are taking some shots of the other projects, so feel free to take your time heading to the Rose Center.” 

On the walk, Eren passes the trophy to Sasha. “What to hold it, Sash?”

“Sure! Still can’t believe we won!”

Connie puts his arm around her, staring at the prize. “I know it doesn’t really mean anything, but damn, is it nice to look at.”

Eren catches up to you, nudging you in the arm. “Would it have killed you to smile during your little speech?”

You shove your elbow into his ribs, a little harder than necessary. “I was smiling.” 

“You call that a smile? You looked like you were in a hostage situation. Like, blink three times if they’re hurting you type of deal,” he teases, that cocky smirk plastered on his face. 

“Like you were any better!” You stick your tongue out, mocking him. “Alpha Tau for life, bros!”

“I really meant it. I needed all the fucking help I could get, dealing with you this whole semester. If it weren’t for them, I would have gone fucking crazy because of you.”

“Oh right, because I’m the one driving you crazy, sure,” you respond, sarcastically.

“Hey, at least you’re admitting it! You’re finally making progress!” He claps in front of your face.

You shove him, glaring. “You are such a jerk.”

“Don’t be so sensitive, baby.”

“Oh, I am not your baby.”

Sasha jumps in between, yelling, “Enough! Both of you, stop it!!”

Connie joins in. “Yeah, we won today. Stop ruining the mood.”

Without you realizing it, the four of you have made it to the Rose Center, which is luckily vacant in the midst of your little spat with Eren. This is how your arguments usually go, all because of something petty that never leads anywhere. When the photographer arrives, they direct you to stand beside your project, already displayed in one of the glass windows. They take a couple of shots, then it’s over. Just like that, your senior project is officially done. There’s a huge weight lifted off your shoulders. All that’s left to do is to graduate. 

The sun is setting by the time the photoshoot is finished. The four of you exit the building, Sasha immediately announcing, “I’m hungry! Let’s get dinner one last time as a team!”

“I’m down for that. Any ideas where to go?” 

“Paradise Pizza?”

“No, we’ve had that way too many times this year. Let’s go somewhere special tonight.”

“There’s that all-you-can-eat Korean barbecue place downtown,” you suggest. “It’s only fifteen minutes away if we take the train.”

“Ooohh, I like the sound of that!”

“I’m down. Eren?”

He shrugs, hands in his pockets. That too-cool-to-care attitude apparent in his body language. “If that’s what everyone else wants, then I guess it’s fine.” If it had been either Sasha or Connie to suggest it, you know for a fact that he would have a more positive response. Because it’s you, he has to act like he’s being forced into it, reluctant to concede with absolutely everything you propose. 

You go your separate ways to change out of professional attire and into more comfortable clothes, agreeing to meet outside Eren’s in an hour. His apartment is closest to the train station, making it the most convenient. By 7:00PM, you’re inside the restaurant, seated at a table, grill fired up as you browse through the menu. Sasha, the ultimate foodie of the group, orders the first round of meats. You pick the drinks. 

“Two bottles of strawberry soju, please!” you tell the waiter. 

“Oh, I love soju!” Sasha squeals. 

You smile at her. “Me too. This flavor’s my favorite.”

Eren, who is somehow seated next to you, grunts. “Strawberry? Of course you’d pick some girly shit like that.”

“Hey man, don’t knock it till you try it,” Connie says. “This shit gets you fucked up fast. Trust me. I’ve gotten soju drunk before, and it’s awesome.”

He rolls his eyes in response. “Yeah, that’s because of all the extra fucking sugar, I bet. Sounds gross.”

The waiter arrives with the alcohol and four glasses, along with waters to share. You do the honors and pour everyone, except Eren, a shot. “I’m guessing you don’t want any of this gross soju, then?”

He snatches the shot glass, thrusting it towards you. “I didn’t say that. Just pour me some.” 

With glasses filled to the brim, you all cheers, then throw it back. The familiar flavor is refreshing and sweet on your tongue, smooth down your throat. 

“Shit, that’s good!” Connie raves.

“Strawberry might be my new favorite flavor! It’s so yummy!”

You face Eren, grinning. “Well?”

He shrugs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s alright.”

“Don’t lie to me. You like it, don’t you?” you tease, nudging him in the arm.

“I said it’s fine, okay?”

You stop pestering him, satisfied knowing that maybe you were finally right about something when it comes to him.

Soon, a plethora of tasty side dishes are scattered on the table. Rice, kimchi, fresh lettuce, potato salad, two helpings of steamed eggs to share. Three heaping plates of meat follow. Sasha begins barbequing, laying out portions of beef bulgogi on the hot grill as the rest of you watch hungrily, the steam and aroma surrounding you like a cozy embrace. Once it’s cooked, you help yourselves, stuffing your faces with perfectly grilled meat and whatever else you desire. Several bites in, you all decide to do another round of shots, first bottle almost finished.

“Good idea to do KBBQ tonight!” Sasha mentions. “I haven’t had it in a while. I forgot how much I love it.”

Connie chimes in, “Same! Which side dish is everyone’s favorite?”

Sasha immediately points to the potato salad. “Is there any doubt that mine would be this?”

“Of course we all know that potato girl. I like kimchi. What’s yours?”

You pick out your favorite. “This one, for sure.”

Eren makes an unapproving noise. “Of course you’d pick that. So basic.”

To keep the peace, especially on this night of celebration, you ignore the temptation to reply with an equally sassy comment. Instead, you ask, “Well, what’s your favorite, Eren?” 

“The steamed egg. It’s delicious and packs an extra serving of protein.” He flexes his bicep with a smug expression. “Not that I really need it.”

Connie and Sasha laugh, while you take a deep breath, using every ounce of willpower to keep your cool. You crack open the bottle, downing the remaining alcohol to help you get through the rest of the night.

“What’s everyone’s plans after graduation?” Connie asks.

Sasha answers first. “I’ll be working with my dad for our family business.”

“I’m sure Artur will appreciate all the new, high-tech engineering skills you have! If I’m still unemployed in two months, can you please hire me?”

“Of course!”

“What about you, Eren?”

“I got an offer in Marley,” he reveals. “It’s a pretty good gig, but I don’t know about moving overseas. I got another in Stohess to work for their weapons warehouse, so maybe I’ll accept that instead.”

“I’ve never been overseas,” you comment. “Sounds interesting if you do decide to go.” 

“Well, you’re wrong. It doesn’t sound interesting at all.”

Even your attempt at being polite is met with malice. “You always argue with me for the sake of arguing.”

He turns to face you, brows furrowed. “No I don’t!”

“You’re literally doing it right now! I was just trying to be nice.”

“Well, try harder,” he grumbles, picking meat off the grill.

“My god, you two are exhausting!” Sasha intervenes. 

Connie nods. “Seriously, don’t you get tired of fighting all the time?”

“Honestly, you two should do it and get it over with.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Eren leers at Sasha through the smoke. 

“I’m saying get all your anger out by fucking each other. Hate sex is the best medicine for situations like this,” she explains, matter of fact.

“No fucking way,” Eren says. “It’s not like that.”

“Definitely not,” you reiterate, cheeks warm. You pour yourself another shot, already on the second bottle, not offering a serving to anyone else. Desperate for liquor with the direction this conversation is going.

“Wow, you two actually agree on something for once!” Connie teases. “See? Isn’t this nice?”

The duo giggle together, finding enjoyment from your current state of misery. Eren clears his throat, muttering something unintelligible. He reaches for the soju in front of you, avoiding your gaze as he tips it into his empty shot glass, instantly downing it. Before the silence gets awkward, you change the subject, mentioning some idle gossip you heard around the engineering department, to which Connie and Sasha have plenty to contribute to. 

An hour later, the four of you manage to finish most of the food, only a few pieces of charred meat left over. Sasha and Connie rub their stomachs, satisfied by the feast. You and Eren end up finishing the last bottle between the two of you. Since the comment from earlier, neither of you have spoken directly, avoiding each other. 

Connie slumps into the chair, patting his belly. “Let’s play a game while we digest! Truth or eat. If you don’t answer, you have to eat these burnt pieces of bulgogi.”

Eren laughs. “That sounds fun. I’m down.” He looks to you, brow raised, challenging. “You in, princess?”

You bite your cheek, holding in the clever retort at his annoying nickname for you, also relieved he’s back to normal. “Sure, why not?”

“I’ll go first,” Sasha volunteers, sitting up in her seat. “Eren, who’s the freakiest brother in Alpha Tau?” 

Without hesitating, he states, “Armin, for sure.”

“Armin?! Really?”

“Yup. He’s one kinky motherfucker,” he grins. He turns to face you. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“You want the whole essay, or an abridged version?” you reply, smirking as you sip on your water.

Sasha giggles while Connie mutters under his breath, “Oh boy.”

Eren doesn’t let up. “Give me one reason.”

Contemplating which of the many grievances you should expose about him, you finally decide on one. “You always disagree with me, no matter what. Whether it’s something about the project, or something as simple as a side dish preference.”

“We already know that, though. What else?”

“Hey, you wanted one reason, and I gave it to you.” You think for a few seconds, adding, “And to be fair, hate is a strong word. I don’t hate you.”

It’s true. While he annoys you beyond your wit’s end, you don’t hate him. He’s a quarter of the reason you all achieved what you did. You focus back on the table, avoiding Eren’s expression. “Connie, have you two ever hooked up?” you question, pointing at the duo.

“Gross! No!”

“Absolutely not. We’re practically twins. That’d be illegal.”

“Yup. We’re basically two halves of a whole idiot.” 

You laugh with them, taking another sip of water as Connie poses a question to Eren. “Why do you give her such a hard time?” he asks, referring to you. 

“Here we go,” you mumble, ready for an onslaught of ridiculous reasons.

It’s silent for a few moments, then he takes his chopsticks, grabbing at the charred meat on the grill, placing it into his mouth to eat quietly.

“What?!” Sasha yells. “You’re not going to tell us?” 

Connie smirks. “Must be pretty bad, then.”

You watch him slowly chew the burnt food, a small smile on his face. As if there’s a secret he’s keeping from everybody else at the table. Why would he refuse to answer the question that he basically asked you? Is his hatred for you that intense that he chooses not to say it, to save you from humiliation? What could you have possibly done to him to warrant this kind of treatment? Maybe it’s the liquor leading you to jump to conclusions, to be slightly offended by his choice. Maybe even a little hurt. 

When he’s done, he chugs his whole water. “Alright, my turn again.”

“Wait, really?”

“We’re just going to pretend that didn’t happen?”

“Yup,” he responds, nonchalant. 

“Why?”

“Hey, I ate that shit, right? Let it go,” he states, more aggressively this time.

You remain silent, mind racing with all types of ideas. You pay no more attention to the game, contemplating all the possible reasons Eren Jaeger would hate you so much. To be fair, he’s the one who starts it first. All you do is defend yourself. Why would he have any bigger reason to dislike you more than you dislike him?

Connie yells out your name, breaking you out of your reverie. “Hey, are you in?”

“Huh?”

“Karaoke! There’s a bar down the street.”

After paying the check, split evenly, the four of you head to the karaoke bar, booking a private room for an hour. You all sing your hearts out while sobering up from whatever buzz you developed from the soju. Any strange concerns you had about Eren evaporate. The two of you even seem to get along, performing a few duets together.

On the train ride back near campus, the four of you share more laughs, enjoying possibly the last time you’ll be together. With everyone graduating and off to their own paths, it’s hard to tell when, or if, you’ll ever see each other again.  

From the station, you start you trek home, pausing outside Eren’s apartment to chat a bit more, until Sasha says, “I guess this is goodbye!”

“Yeah, thanks for all your hard work. This was really fun,” Connie adds, smiling. 

“We should all try to keep in touch.”

Eren hugs Connie, then Sasha. The two of you look at each other, contemplating if you should embrace also. Suddenly, you blurt out, “Actually, can I use your bathroom? I have to pee.”

You really do have to pee, but surely, you could have made it the extra ten minutes to your own apartment to do so, right? For some reason, your mind convinces you to stay with him just a little longer. There’s a pending task you have to complete before you part ways for good. You hope for closure, to end things on a good note. 

You, Connie, and Sasha exchange hugs, leaving with a final wave, disappearing into the distance. Despite the pleasant warmth of the summer night, there’s a noticeable chill in the air. Not from the weather, rather, from the growing tension surrounding you and Eren. His voice is quiet when he says, “Alright, I guess we can head in now.”

You nod, following him through the entrance. At the elevator, he swipes a keycard, pushing the button to go up to the third floor. The doors open and you step in, still not speaking a word. Arriving at his door, he unlocks it, holding it for you. 

“Bathroom is down to the right,” he points, removing his shoes at the entrance.

You copy him, sliding out of your sneakers. “Okay cool. Thank you.” 

Once you find the bathroom, you swiftly close the door, fully aware that you are inside Eren Jaeger’s apartment. Naturally, curiosity gets the best of you. With a quick glance around the room, you can tell he’s tidy. Towels hung properly, actual floor mats on the tiles, toilet seat down. Is he anticipating a visit from a friend? Maybe a lover? You can’t help letting your imagination run wild. 

Finished with your business, you walk out of the bathroom to find him sitting on the couch, television playing a show you’re familiar with. “Have you seen this episode yet? The new season just started,” you mention, stepping towards him.

He stands up, turning to face you. “I haven’t. Was planning to watch it tonight.”

“Cool,” is all you manage to utter. 

There’s another moment of awkward silence until he asks, “You want to watch it with me?”

Without thinking, you agree.

The two of you sit on opposite ends of the couch, watching in silence. About halfway through, with a soft chuckle, he admits, “That strawberry soju wasn’t bad. Actually, it was pretty good.”

This catches you off guard. You look at him, grinning. “Wow. It took you this long to finally come clean about it.”

“Better late than never, right?” He keeps his eyes forward, smirking. 

You adjust, completely facing him. “Since you’re being honest about that, can you tell me why you didn’t answer Connie’s question?”

He plays dumb. “What question?”

“Why do you give me such a hard time?”

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “You’re still thinking about that?”

“Yeah, I am,” you confess. “Seems a little odd to me that wouldn’t just say it.”

Finally, he matches you, repositioning himself to set his gaze on yours. “Why do you care so much?”

“I’m curious. Since we’ll be graduating soon, we’ll probably never see each other again. I figured we should put everything out there. Get some closure. Make amends.”

He scoffs. “I wasn’t aware there were any amends to make.”

You’re getting annoyed now, impatient with his round-about comments. “Seriously? You think our relationship is normal?”

“I don’t think we have a relationship at all.”

You stand up, regretting being here in the first place. He’s the same asshole he’s always been. What we’re you expecting? Why would he be any different tonight? 

“Fine. Forget it. What a waste of time. Good job on the project, and I hope you have a great life.” You stomp towards the exit, not bothering to look at him.

Suddenly, his hand shoots out, gripping you loosely around the wrist. “Wait. Don’t go.”

You glare at him, eyes narrowed in frustration, skin tingly from the physical contact. Waiting for him to elaborate.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he stammers. “I’m not…I can’t really…” he trails off, not finishing his sentences.

When he doesn’t proceed, you ask, “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Then why do you treat me this way? Why me?”

He swallows hard, the truth difficult for him to spit out. “It’s dumb.” 

“I don’t care. Just tell me.”

He lets out a sigh, averting his gaze to the floor. “It’s because I like you, okay?” 

It takes a moment for you to process what he’s saying. Eventually, you stammer, “You like me?”

“Yeah, I like you,” he reiterates, still staring at his own feet. “You’re cute. You’re the smartest person I know. And you’re also a fucking pain in my ass. But I like you.”

That last part would normally have you on the verge of swinging; however, it’s almost endearing the way he says it. Your sudden change in heart has you questioning if you’re drunk from the liquor you consumed hours ago. “Why would you treat me like this if you like me?”

Another deep sigh as he explains, “I don’t know. Because I’m a fucking idiot and I’m immature. I told you, it’s dumb.”

“It’s not dumb. I just…I didn’t expect this.”

More silence falls between you two. You look down at his big hand still holding you, racing heartbeat reverberating through your chest. You’re not sure how to react. So, you go with your instinct. 

You kiss him.

~~~

Eren doesn’t know why he started it months ago at the beginning of the semester. If he’s being completely honest, he’s got the body of Greek god, the intelligence of a genius, and the maturity, or in this case, immaturity, of a fifth grader. That being said, whatever it is that he has going with her, he’s decided to classify it as a schoolboy crush. Like a kid on the playground picking on another kid, doing everything they can to garner all their attention, no matter how annoying it is. 

It began with snide remarks here and there, nothing ever too cruel to be considered bullying, but enough to make her bite back. He’s not sure why he kept it up so long, especially after realizing he actually likes her. In his mind, negative attention is better than no attention at all. He can’t be normal around her; being a nuisance is what he’s comfortable with.

Another reason is that he’s intimidated by her. She could see right through his cocky demeanor. Break him down into the vulnerable little shit he really is. The grief he caused her is some bizarre defense mechanism, a way to deny his true feelings for her. All to protect himself and his heart. 

He was supposed to go to a frat party tonight after hanging out with the team. Instead, he finds himself alone with her in his apartment, everything revealed, his confession hanging heavy in the air. 

Even more unexpected is her leaning forward to kiss him, lips soft and gentle against his. Hesitant and uncertain. Sweet and tangy from the lingering essence of the strawberry soju from earlier. Before he gets carried away, he pulls off, whispering, “Are you sure about this?”

“No,” she admits. “But I can’t deny that I’m curious.”

“We shouldn’t do this then. It doesn’t feel right.”

“Just…shut up and let me check something.”

He obeys, closing his eyes, waiting for her move. She kisses him again, more confidentially this time, hand sliding to his nape to pull him closer. 

“Fuck, are you sure this is okay?” he breathes out, slowly losing his composure.

She nods, smiling. “Yes.”

“You’re positive?”

“Yes.”

“Absolutely certain?”

“If you ask me one more time, you’re really going to piss me off,” she warns, grazing her mouth along his neck, sucking at the skin of his throat.

He nods erratically. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry. Fuck.”

She pushes him back towards the couch, falling into the cushions. He watches in awe as she strips her sweatpants, revealing pink lacey panties.  She sits in his lap, legs spread wide with him between, clothed pussy against his pulsating cock. His hands are to his sides, clenched to the cushion of the couch. With her lips brushing his ear, she whispers, “You can touch me if you want.”

His cock twitches, erection growing by the second as she straddles him. Carefully, he slides his palms around her waist, moaning a trembling, “Thank you.” Hands at her bottom, he squeezes her ass cheeks in a firm grasp, fingers slipping underneath the fabric, dangerously close to her arousal.

Without thinking, he blurts out, “Use me. Do what you want with me. You’re the leader.”

There’s a wicked smile on her face as soon as he says it. “Eren Jaeger is going to let me use him?”

All pride is thrown out the window. He doesn’t care anymore about giving into weakness. With graduation only two weeks away, and no promise of ever seeing each other again, he decides fuck it. He’s going to do whatever he can to fulfill this fantasy of his. And if that means submitting to her, begging and groveling at her feet, he’ll fucking do it. 

“Yeah,” he growls. “Use me as your fuck toy. I’ll do whatever you want. Just fucking use me.”

“Didn’t think Alpha Tau’s frat star would behave like this,” she murmurs, sucking on his ear lobe. 

“Does it turn you on?”

“Maybe.”

“Good. Fucking wreck me apart then. Don’t hold back,” he demands. There’s already precum leaking from his tip, soaking through the cotton of his briefs. “Consider it payback for this semester.”

She responds by grinding her hips on his lap. He’s desperate to feel her without fabric separating them, but he knows what he agreed to. He can’t do anything without her permission, without her initiating. She rides him for another minute, his palms on her ass, following her motions. His cock throbs beneath her, aching for release from the confines of his pants. There’s an audible whine developing in his throat, needy for anything.

On cue, she swings her leg over to kneel beside him, tugging at the waistband of his sweats and underwear. He lifts his hips as she slides them off simultaneously, freeing his stiff cock. He watches her marvel at his erection, noticing desire in her eyes. Before he knows it, she’s bent towards his lap, mouth hovering his dick, licking at the slit. 

“Fuck,” he moans. “Goddamn.”

She continues to tease him, leaving the shaft untouched, tongue swirling the tip, lapping at his precum. 

“Fuck, please. Touch me,” he begs, legs quivering from arousal. 

Without warning, she wraps her fist around him, surrounding the tip with her mouth, bobbing up and down in sync with her strokes. She starts slow, increasing the pace with each guttural moan that emits within his chest. The temptation to buck his hips into her warm, wet heat is tantalizing, but he reminds himself that she’s in control, which only turns him on more.

She uses her other hand to fondle his balls, causing him to swear loudly. “Fuck!”

He feels the vibration of her giggle through his cock, clearly enjoying the way she’s unravelling him, his orgasm approaching fast. “Can I please come?”

She shakes her head, still working his dick. 

“Fuck. I can’t…I can’t hold it.” 

She releases him from her mouth, stroking him, face close to his. “You think you deserve to come now?”

He nods eagerly. “Yes.”

“Apologize first.”

“Huh?”

“Apologize. Admit that you’re a fucking asshole.” She nibbles on his ear lobe, dragging it down between her lips, still jerking him off. 

“I’m sorry. I’m a,” he chokes on his spit before he can finish. “Fucking asshole.”

“Tell me your desperate for it. That you need it.” 

“Fuck, I’m so fucking desperate, I fucking need it. Please.”

“Good,” she whispers, pumping him faster. She kisses him on the lips, grip tight around him as his cock swells, hanging by a thread at the edge of his climax. “Go ahead. Come for me, Eren.”

At the sound of his name on her sultry lips, he does, hot cum shooting straight onto his t-shirt. “Fuck!” he yells, eyes shut tight, riding out one of the best orgasms of his life. She strokes him until his balls are completely drained. Finally, he opens his eyes to inspect the scene, shocked by the mess painted across the bottom of his shirt, spilling onto his abdomen. 

“Holy shit,” he mutters, smiling at her.

She grins back at him. “Not bad, right?”

“Not bad at all. Really fucking good, actually.” He kisses her, fingers drifting down to her arousal, rubbing the fabric against her clit. “Come here. Let me eat this pretty pussy out. Please. I want it so bad.”

“Since you said it so nicely, I guess I can let you have a taste.” 

~~~

You stand up, leaving room for him to lay down on the couch. He doesn’t need to be told. He expects you to ride that pretty face of his. When he’s flat on his back, shirt stripped off and completely naked, he turns to watch you slip out of your panties.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he praises, reaching down to rub his balls. “I think about this a lot, you know.”

You toss your underwear to the floor, watching him play with himself, removing your remaining clothes. “What do you think about?”

“This. You, naked in my apartment. Riding my face till you come. Fucking your wet pussy right after.”

“I guess tonight’s your lucky night,” you tease, lifting your knee across him, straddling his face. 

“Yes, it is,” he replies, licking his lips, eyes wide with lust at your pussy above him, already wet with arousal. He cranes his neck upwards, tongue out, desperate for a taste.

“Not yet.” You lift up enough so he’s out of reach. “Watch me play with myself first.”

“Fuck,” he swears, salivating.  

You wet your middle finger with your slick, rubbing circles around your clit. He watches in a daze, biting his lower lip, brows knit together in concentration, focused on you pleasuring yourself right above him. He squirms beneath you, thrusting his hips into the air, in an effort to feel anything. “Get it fucking juicy for me, baby. I want to fucking drown in it.”

The little nicknames you’ve grown accustomed to hating has a very different ring to it now. For the first time all semester, you don’t mind it. You actually like it. With your free hand, you run your fingers through his hair, redirecting his gaze on yours. “That’s right. I’m your baby. And what are you?”

He swallows hard. “I…I don’t know.”

“You’re my fuck toy.”

“Fuck yeah. I’m your fuck toy, baby. I’m your fuck toy. Use me, please.”

With your grip firm on his hair, you sink lower, your pussy pressed to his open mouth. He licks your clit, swiping his wide tongue over it, moving side to side. You moan at the glorious sensation, rocking your hips across his face to feel more. He latches onto your swollen bud, humming in pleasure as he suckles on it. His hips rut into nothing again, arms at his sides, clutching hard at the cushions, letting you be in total control. This power he gives you turns you on more than you imagined. Maybe because all semester, he always acted as if he had the upper hand. Knowing how desperate he is to be beneath you, to please you beyond any other desire he has, it only spurs you on. 

You grind yourself on his face, the squelching noises indicating how sloppy he’s eating you out and how wet you’re becoming because of it. He’s relentless, alternating between licking, slurping, and sucking at your clit. You blissfully indulge in it until you climax on his tongue, bud over-stimulated, pussy soaked with his spit and your slick. 

“Fuck,” he muffles, slurping the cum from your sleek entrance. Legs wobbly from your orgasm, you lift off him, shifting to reposition yourself comfortably on top. His cock is hard beneath you, sticky with his cum from earlier. Through shiny lips, he whines, “I’m so fucking hard again. Fuck me. Fuck me with that wet pussy.”

Reaching behind you, you align him with your slit, sinking down on his shaft. He lets out a gasp, “I’m so fucking sensitive, fuck.” Concerned, you attempt to lift off, but he shakes his head fervently. “Don’t. Please baby. Fuck me till I come. I need it. I need it.”

You ride him, bouncing your ass on his lap, thrusting his cock deep inside you. He moans loudly, babbling filthy words from his needy mouth.

Use this cock, baby. Fuck me like a toy. 

Make yourself come on this dick. 

It’s all fucking yours. Take it, baby. Take it. 

I’m all yours. I’m all yours.

You moan with him, another climax approaching. Grabbing his wrist, you guide him to your clit. He caresses your puffy bud with his fingers. “I’m going to come,” you whimper.

“Can I come with you, princess? Please, can I come inside you?”

You nod wordlessly, pumping him in and out of you faster as he rubs your clit relentlessly, determined to make you orgasm. When you cry out in ecstasy, he joins you. “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming, baby.”

For the second time tonight, both of you come, this time together. He spills inside you, filling your cunt with his warm, creamy load as you coat his dick with yours. Your body is spent from the euphoria, throat dry from whining in pleasure, and your curiosity satiated. It’s a lie to say you’ve never imagined being fucked silly by Eren. No matter how much he annoyed you, irritated you, aggravated you, there were moments this semester when you thought about it. How good it would feel to ride him, fuck him dumb until he’s begging for release. 

“I’m exhausted,” he giggles, limp on the couch, softening cock still inside you, wrapping you in a snug embrace.

“Me too.” You settle into his arms, relaxed and comfortable against his chest. 

“Thank you,” he mutters, caressing your back tenderly. “Thank you.” He doesn’t elaborate, repeating it a few more times as he nuzzles his nose into the top of your head.

You cuddle together in a comfortable silence. “Sleep here tonight. I have an extra toothbrush and you can wear my clothes.” 

Accepting his offer, the two of you start tidying, picking up strewn wardrobe from the floor, wiping away the sticky aftermath of sex. You hop in the shower, rinsing your bodies clean, exchanging passionate kisses while the water splashes you. After you dry off and brush your teeth, you change into an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boxers he lends you, jumping into the bed beside him. He smiles at you. “You look good in my clothes.”

You give him a smooch, getting yourself cozy under the covers. He spoons you, arm sliding over your waist, interlacing his fingers with yours. His breath is pleasantly warm on your neck. “I know we’re probably past this already, but I want to formally apologize. It wasn’t right the way I treated you, and I’m sorry. Genuinely.”

“Apology accepted,” you respond, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry too. For saying anything that hurt you out of anger.”

“You don’t have to be. I deserved it.”

“Still, I’m sorry. And no one deserves that.”

“All is forgiven then.” He chuckles softly. “For two smart people, we sure are dumb.”

You laugh with him. “If only we were a tad bit smarter, we could have started this months ago.”

“Yeah," he says, nestling his face against your neck. "You’re right.”

Nothing else is said as the two of you drift into sleep. It’s nice, having closure on a previously volatile relationship. However, something else lingers after tonight. Another door opens, leading to the unknown. He confessed his true feelings for you. You didn’t have time to process it, too focused on settling your truce through sex. While there’s no doubt that you find him physically attractive, can you really move on from the past and give him a chance? 

~~~

The words are on the tip of his tongue, and he decides to keep it that way, not wanting to disrupt this moment of peace. Not wanting to complicate it any further. He knows that this is the beginning and the end of whatever this fling is. She hasn’t reciprocated his feelings and he won’t pressure her to, not tonight. Maybe not ever. No matter how badly he wishes to see her again, keep in touch, make it official, he won’t ask that of her. At the end of the day, it’s his own fault for waiting too long, for being too late. Time has run out, and now he’s paying the price.

They stay in each other’s arms, Eren listening closely to the sound of her steady breathing. Cherishing how her fingers fit seamlessly in his, the small smile on her lips as she drifts into a tranquil slumber, the warmth and weight of her body against his.  

The next morning, he wakes up, alone. If not for the stack of clothes he let her borrow folded neatly at the end of the bed, he would have thought last night’s events were all a dream. He vaguely recalls her waking up beside him, placing a chaste kiss on his forehead, sneaking out on her tippy toes at the crack of dawn. Still, he searches the apartment, calling out her name to no response. 

Throughout the week, he’s constantly on the verge of texting her. He never goes through with it, though, scared to be rejected. Afraid of having the final memory of her be one of heartbreak. 

As a last-ditch effort, he devises a plan. Eren hosts a party at his place to celebrate the upcoming graduation. He invites the Alpha Tau brothers, plus some sorority girls for good measure. However, his main objective is to invite her. He ends up sending a group text to his senior project team, casually informing them of his little gathering. Sasha and Connie both reply, announcing their attendance, but she doesn’t.

At the party, he tries not to think about her, distracting himself by socializing with the crowds of people already filling his apartment. When Connie and Sasha arrive together, he decides to try one more time before he consumes his sorrows away. After exchanging polite greetings with them, he asks, “Have you guys heard anything from her?”

“Nope. I don’t think she even texted back, right?”

Eren’s ready to reach for the closest container of booze he can find. The duo walks past him to enjoy the party while he remains standing, watching the door for another minute. Just as he’s about to turn his heel, he sees it open slowly. 

She walks in, her favorite drink in hand, a happy expression on her face as soon as she spots him. In the background, someone yells out, “Eren! Tequila shots?”

Waving the familiar bottle at him, she smiles.

“Nah,” Eren responds, gazing at her with a grin. “I’m sticking with strawberry soju from now on.”

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

Taglist: @liliorsstuff-blog @batafuraikisu @bloompompom @belovedackerman @wtfiswrongwithme1

[ckret2]

Chapter 34 of human Bill Cipher not making friends with Stan during his imprisonment in the Mystery Shack, featuring: the tooth fairy and her dentist attempting to steal Bill's teeth in the middle of the night. Stan would care a lot less if he weren't still handcuffed to Bill. And also: Stan and Bill have a friendly chat. As you can see.

####

Even though Bill and Stan were trying to watch the same TV as they had dinner, Bill refused to sit in the living room with Stan; so he sat on the bottom step of the stairs in the entryway, Stan perched on the end of the couch, and they strung the handcuffs around the doorway with their little plastic microwave dinner trays balanced on their knees.

Both of their dinners had come out undercooked. Both of them were too proud to complain.

After picking through maybe a third of his meal, Bill decided he'd rather go to bed hungry than eat something he didn't enjoy, dropped his tray on the floor, and kicked it into the kitchen. "Hey Stanley, still glad you went with the cuffs instead of the bracelets?"

"Shut up."

Bill smirked victoriously, and looked back to the TV. "No mayonnaise in Ireland."

"What?"

Bill pointed at the screen and the rows of blank letters waiting for contestants to fill them in. "The round that just started. That's the solution."

"Oh." Stan counted out all the blank letters, frowned, and said unconfidently, "It can't be that. It doesn't make any sense."

"You're wrong," Bill said lightly; and then fell silent, running the tip of his tongue over the new gold spots on his teeth. 

When the contestants had guessed enough letters that one could hesitantly offer, "Is it... 'no mayonnaise in Ireland'?" Bill smirked triumphantly at the sound of Stan's silence. He just barely waited until the next board of blank letters flashed on the screen, and then announced, "Tip your waiter."

Stan counted the letters under his breath. "Man. I thought I was good at this, but we'd clean up if we put you on this show. No one would ever figure out how you're cheating."

Bill laughed. "Listen to you! If you were Ford, you'd just be mad that I'm giving away all the answers before you can guess. That's the great thing about you, Stanley: you don't get irritated at me for stupid little reasons. You're more fun." He took a deep breath and shouted, "Hey Ford, did you hear that?! Stan's the fun twin—!"

"Keep it down, you idiot. Ford's in the basement, he can't hear you." Stan had thought Bill was finally sobering up from the sedative; maybe not. (Then again, maybe this was just what he was like sober.) "And what are you talking about? You irritate me all the time!"

"Oh, well, I guess I just don't care when you're irritated." Bill laughed.

Stan grumbled, planted his chin in his hand, and tried to focus on Cash Wheel. It was difficult when he already knew the solution.

He tolerated the silence for less than a minute before sighing, looking toward the doorway, and demanding, "What's with you, anyway? Why are you so obsessed with my brother?"

Bill spluttered in disbelief. Stan could feel his handcuff chain jerk over. Voice even shriller than usual, Bill said, "Excuse m—Excuse me?! Obsessed? Moi?! I don't know what you're talking about!" He forced a loud laugh.

"If Ford's in the room, he's the only one you talk to, and when he isn't here you're yelling across the house for him—"

"Is it obsession to sometimes pay a little more attention to the human here I happen to know best and to whom I happen to be a teacher, muse, and friend—"

"Oh that's a load of bull," Stan snapped, "you're not any of those things! Friend? Friend? He wants you dead, you crazy—"

"Well if he does," Bill said, louder still, "then wouldn't it make perfect sense to keep my eye on the guy who killed me? There's no big mystery—"

"That's it! That's just it!" Stan tossed down his TV dinner and stood so he could face Bill properly. "He didn't kill you alone, remember? That was a two-man con you fell for! But you keep talking like Ford was the only one there!"

Without bothering to stand, Bill looked up at Stan and said, quite confidently, "Only one person killed me. You're just the place where I was killed."

"I wh...?" Stan fell silent, blinking at Bill in disbelief.

"Do you even remember what happened inside your brain? After you took my hand?" Bill asked. "You don't, do you?"

Stan glowered at Bill, but he shut his mouth and said nothing.

"I knew it." Bill laughed nastily. "We were both trapped in there when Fordsy fired the gun. Completely powerless. You were weeping and begging for a way out when the flames got too close, but there was nothing I could do by then—"

"All right," Stan took a threatening step closer, "I know that that didn't happen! I would never—"

Bill leaned back, hands raised palm out in appeasement, "Okay okay okay! All right, you got me—just embellishing the story a little—we actually had a big psychic laser battle. Imagined up all kinds of futuristic weapons. It was very 90's action movie. You did... fine, you were fine."

Stan considered that. "Ehh... sure, that sounds more like me."

"But it was all imaginary," Bill snapped. "It was a vast illusion! At that point there was nothing either of us could do to the other. We were just two victims locked inside a burning house as it came down around us. You didn't kill me, you never even had the power to kill me."

"Huh." That was all Stan said. But he kept looking at Bill, frowning distrustfully, studying him.

Bill's shoulders slowly went up under the pressure of Stan's gaze. "Oh—oh wow, okay, I see what's going on!" He gave Stan a crooked, mean smile. "You're jealous, aren't you? You thought offering up your body to be the scene of a murder finally made you a co-star instead of a sidekick! All your lives, Stanford got more attention from daddy, more attention from the teachers, more attention from the whole world... and you thought you'd finally get at least a little attention from the big bad living nightmare. Just because you let your brother shoot you in the head!" Bill laughed. "You weren't special enough for anyone else—why do you think you're special enough for me?"

Stan jerked Bill to his feet by the handcuff's chain. "I bet I'm special enough to break your face!" He dragged him into the living room, fist raised. "Let's see if you stay down this time—"

Bill scrambled back as far as the chain allowed him. "NO!" Horror filled the one ragged syllable. His free arm was raised to shield his terrified eye.

They froze, staring at each other.

Bill straightened up, forcing a nervous, rattled laugh. "Come on, I just got all this dental work done. At least give me a couple days to enjoy it before you pound it in!" He was talking fast to fill the silence. "Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't mind having a flatter face, all these bones and cartilage jutting out never did feel right—"

Stan feigned a punch.

Bill flinched.

Stan laughed at him, slapping his knee. "You big chicken! Look at you! Baw-baaawk-bgawk! HA!"

Bill tried, very hard, to explode Stan with his brain. This usually worked on people who dared try to insult Bill Cipher. "If I had one billionth of a billionth of my power, I'd have already destroyed you—!"

"But you don't, sucker!" Stan laughed louder.

Bill screamed in frustration, turned his back on Stan, and stomped upstairs to sulk.

Or, he would have, if he hadn't gotten one step up the stairs before the handcuffs yanked tight. He stumbled back, landed on his butt, and inadvertently jerked Stan down on one knee with a yelp.

Bill cast a resentful look at Stan—who was rubbing his shoulder and finally looking as irritated as Bill felt—and then he lay down and deliberately stared straight at the ceiling. "Whatever. I don't even care about your pointless mammal posturing. It's fine. It doesn't bother me. I'm calm. You're just making yourself look stupid." Bill shut his eyes. "I wanna go to bed."

####

"Bill," Ford said.

Bill cracked open an eye and peered up at the form looming over his makeshift cushion bed. "Mrm?"

In a very calm voice that suggested he was not calm at all, Ford asked, "Why are you sleeping on the floor in front of my bedroom door."

"Oh. Right, you missed it." Bill yawned and sat up. "Well, you see, Stanley got us handcuffed together until tomorrow morning," he pointed at his cuffed wrist and rattled the chain, "and I tried to be accommodating, but he doesn't want to sleep in the attic and won't let me sleep in the guest room—"

Stan yelled through the door, "And Mr. Accommodating here still refuses to sleep on the sofa bed."

"—so the best compromise we've got is sleeping on the floor with the chain under the door. Not my idea of a fun evening, but." Bill shrugged ruefully, like an adult resigned to indulging the whims of a petulant child. "Do you want in? It'll take us a little coordination to get the door open, but we've already done this once, so—"

"I'm not messing with this," Ford said. "I'm sleeping in the basement. Good night, Stanley."

"Night, Ford."

Trying not to sound miffed at being snubbed, Bill said, "Hey, do you still keep your cot on that rug you used to channel me better?" He laughed.

"Nope. I burned that rug." Ford turned the corner and left.

Bill stuck his tongue out at his back. He didn't actually know whether Ford was lying. He wished he'd thought to check out Ford's study before heading down to the portal back when he'd had his time tape.

"Hey." He rapped on the bedroom door. "I thought we weren't asking Sixer for help so he wouldn't find out about the handcuffs." They hadn't actually discussed it, but he'd taken it for granted. "Now that he knows, why aren't we getting his help?"

"What, you think I need his help to solve all my problems? Ha!"

"Okay, fine. Doesn't matter to me, I'm used to sleeping on the floor." Bill lay back down and sighed.

He shut his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

####

Bill wasn't quite dreaming, but for a few seconds it was something very close to a dream. He saw points of light in darkness. One of his earliest, oldest memories. He'd memorized the constellations outside of his plain when his starblind species didn't even have a word for "constellations."

But these weren't those points of light in darkness. Some nearer, some farther—he could sense their distance—and all of the lights were calling to him. All of his eyes. He could see so many more than he had last night.

One was just a few inches away. He could almost reach out and grab it. 

But those few seconds of light-in-darkness were in the gray twilight between the dreamscape and the physical world, and Bill only fleetingly glimpsed them as he passed from sleep back to wakefulness. He opened his eyes.

To see a person looming over him.

And the taste of thick metal tools in his mouth.

"Hi," Bill said, for lack of anything better to say under these circumstances.

It was enough to make Dr. Illing gasp and stumble back from Bill. "Jeez." He clapped a hand over his heart. "I'm sorry— I-I didn't want to—"

"Uh-huh." Bill sat up and took the abandoned tool out of his mouth—pliers. They'd been gently clamped around one of his canine teeth. "Not the most unpleasant thing I've had aimed at my face in the middle of the night," Bill mused, "but it's pretty high on the list." He tried to lift his other hand to feel his face for damage—and only remembered the handcuff when the rattling chain caught his wrist in place.

They both looked at the cuff. As Dr. Illing realized Bill was trapped, a change came over his face—a desperate, crazed fury.

Bill shook his head. "Ohhh, no no no—"

"Give me that!" Dr. Illing lunged for Bill, one hand reaching toward the pliers and the other toward his throat, trying to pin him against the door.

Bill shoved his feet in Dr. Illing's chest, trying to hold him back. "Stanley!" He pounded on the door with the pliers. "We have visitors, wake up!"

"It'll only take a second," Dr. Illing insisted. "You were going to give me one anyway! And that tooth is already loose! You can handle the pain! Just—hold still, I can't damage it!" He managed to get his thumb in Bill's mouth—he cringed when Bill bit down, but didn't back off—and pulled a fresh set of pliers out of his tool bag.

Bill parried the pliers with his own pair. "STAAAN—"

The door unlatched and Bill tumbled backward into the room. He twisted out of the dentist's way, slid the handcuff chain out from under the door, and skittered behind Stan.

"Wha—what's—?" Stan squinted into the dark hallway. "The heck's going on?"

Bill stretched to Stan's nightstand and grabbed up his glasses and hearing aids. "Put your face on!" He shoved them in Stan's hands, then reached back for his dentures.

Stan put his glasses on first. "What the— Illing? What are you doing here?"

Dr. Illing stood forlorn in the hallway, trembling all over, eyeing Stan nervously. "Uhhh," he said eloquently. "I just..." He gestured around Stan's shoulder toward Bill, "wanted to check her fillings. I thought one of them might be a little loose—"

Bill's cackle cut through his excuses. "Oh, come on! I know your boss put you up to this! What does the little lady want with my mouth?"

Dr. Illing's eyes widened. All he managed to produce was a squeak.

Stan said, "What 'little lady,' this guy's self-employed. What are you talking about—"

"The tooth fairy, genius!" Bill flung his free hand in the air. "Why did you think your dentist pays you to pull your teeth! He lives in a van, who'd you think was funding him?!"

"Uh," Stan said. "You know, I sort of just took his whole 'creepy sadist who bribes people to let him pull their teeth' shtick at face value." (Dr. Illing's shoulders slumped.) "But—I know things are weird around here, but the tooth fairy's gotta be fake, right? That's the stupidest..."

A fairy popped out of Dr. Illing's bag—just large enough to use an adult man's hand like a chair, with a bob cut so white it almost shone, giving off a glowing toothpaste-blue aura, wearing a necklace of baby teeth like a hunter who'd taken trophies from the bones of her kills.

"Oh," Stan said. "Well. Never mind. Just one more crazy thing in this town."

Bill's back went stiff, his eyes widened, and he curled his fists into the fabric of Stan's tank top like he was holding his shield in place. "Oh, she's here." He lisped an inhuman swear under his breath.

Ignoring them, the tooth fairy glowered up at Dr. Illing. "How did they know? What did you tell them!"

"Nothing!" he protested. "I swear! I'd never!"

"Well, you must have let something slip—"

Bill swallowed hard; but then he straightened up, let go, and stepped into the open. "Why, if it isn't Miss Pearl E. White, in the fae flesh! To what do I owe such an honor?"

Dr. Illing and the fairy both flinched. She asked, "How do you know my...?"

"Oh, Pearl. I know things you couldn't even dream of." Bill favored her with his best, widest, most unnerving grin.

And got the creeping sense that she'd stopped looking at his face, and started staring at his teeth. He pressed his lips together. "And here's just one thing I know: lady, if you were toeing the line of your treaty any harder, you'd be tripping across it. So tell me what you're doing here and what you want."

She huffed defensively, wings buzzing as they lifted her several inches in the air. "I'm well within the terms of the treaty! I haven't laid a hand on you and I'm not about to start, and I've been offering more than adequate financial compensation—"

"Oh, right," Bill laughed, "I'm sure the queen of your court would be thrilled to hear you ordered your legally-dubious helper to rip out someone's teeth in the dead of night—"

"Hi," Stan said, "question. What the hey are you guys talking about. Treaties? Queens?"

"Oh, this is all going over your head, isn't it! I'll catch you up." He turned to the side to point accusingly at Pearl, "Little miss enamel-happy here has a thing for teeth. To the extent that she started stealing them straight out of humans' mouths. She went so crazy that the local human settlements actually declared war on her court over her dental kleptomania—and the fairies she dragged into the conflict weren't any happier about it than the humans were. So now, under the conditions of a human-fairy peace treaty, she's only allowed to acquire already freed teeth that are voluntarily offered to her by their owners—which is why she started bribing children."

Pearl crossed her arms, fuming. "That's a very biased version of events. You're just trying to paint me in the worst possible—"

"Save it, sparkles! I woke up with your minion's pliers in my mouth, I'll be as biased as I want!" He shifted his attention to Dr. Illing—who seemed to wilt under the force of Bill's glare. "But she's getting deep in a gray area working with this guy. Once a tooth is handed to a dentist, he's its 'owner,' and can freely give that tooth to the tooth fairy—but him extracting the tooth puts the whole operation on shaky legal ground. Really, I think the only reason you've gotten away with this racket so long is because nobody's filed a legal challenge with the fairy court yet."

"Nobody's complained about it," Pearl said hotly.

"None of your victims know about it," Bill countered. "Hey Fisherman," he jabbed Stan's arm, "how do you feel knowing your teeth were sacrificed to the tooth fairy?"

He considered that. "Well—it was free."

Pearl crowed, "Ha!"

Ignoring Stan's reply, Bill blithely moved on: "But by any reading of the treaty, hiring a human to steal teeth straight out of someone's mouth is beyond the pale. So you'd better have a good explanation for this!"

"Yeah. I do have a good explanation." She sucked in a deep breath. "I want your teeth!" She launched herself toward Bill; Dr. Illing had to grab her around the waist to hold her back. "I'd do anything for those teeth! They're the most amazing teeth I've ever seen!" She clawed at the air, hissing and straining as she tried to reach Bill.

"My lady, please," Dr. Illing said pathetically. "The treaty—"

She aimed a swipe at his face. "I know about the stupid treaty!"

Bill stared at her, baffled. His perfectly normal human teeth? But he shook his head, smiled, and said, "Well okay, fantastic! It's been a while since I've bargained with the fae, but I'm not too attached to this body—so how much gold do you have on you, kid?"

"We're not bargaining. You already know too much," Pearl snapped. "I'm not about to get blackmailed by a human, and I'm not going back to fairy jail. So here's what's happening." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder toward Dr. Illing. "I'm gonna have my guy rip out every one of your teeth, and then rip your head apart so you can't talk, and the only negotiating you get to do is whether or not my guy uses the local anesthetic before he starts. So what's it gonna be?"

Dr. Illing went deathly pale and his knees shook as he verged on fainting.

"Hey," Stan waved at the fairy, "listen, I'd love to see this guy's head get ripped apart, but—crazy thing, long story—it turns out there's fifty-fifty odds that killing him could end the world. So, maybe let's talk this out—?"

Pearl gestured dismissively at Stan. "His mouth has nothing left of interest to me. He's a witness. Kill him, too."

Dr. Illing swallowed hard; but, with trembling hand, he reached into his tool bag and slowly pulled out a large power drill that definitely wasn't designed for teeth.

"Right," Bill said. "Okay. This'll be fun." If he said it convincingly enough, maybe it would be true. "Hey, Fisher—you know that spell Sixer's got on me? If I cast it on Frankie here, can you..."

"Yeah, I see where you're going."

Pearl's eyes narrowed. She pounded her tiny fist on Dr. Illing's finger. "Hurry up, before they—"

Before she could issue a warning, Stan charged at them, fist raised. Dr. Illing flinched, shielding his face with the drill; but Stan dodged around him, heading for the hall. Bill seized Dr. Illing's upper arm as he passed—"Amnesia Limina, Stupidi Digiti, Occultus Locus!"—and then Stan yanked Bill out into the hall by their chain and slammed the bedroom door.

Dr. Illing gasped. "What?"

Blue light radiated through the cracks around the door as Pearl darted around, shrieking, "Open the door, you idiot!"

There was a moment of futile scrabbling. "How?!"

Bill and Stan retreated to the entryway. Bill said, "If we get outside, we can lose 'em."

"Or get the car and run them over," Stan said.

"You don't wanna be the guy who kills the tooth fairy! She might be in the doghouse, but she's still old fae nobility. Her court would—"

Bill cut off as Stan opened the door. Instead of leading to the porch and the forest beyond, it now opened into a bone-colored cathedral, the arches and vaulted ceilings constructed out of what looked like small irregular pebbles: teeth.

Stan gaped at the vast chamber. "Where the heck...?"

Bill looked at what had once been the outside of the door; the numbers "13 / 32" were carved into the wood. "Nowhere we want to go! Shut it!"

Stan slammed the door.

"That explains how she got in," Bill muttered. "There's no time to un-enchant this exit, we'll need another one."

Stan pointed toward the living room. "We can go out the—"

"The floor room exit." Bill dragged Stan back toward the hallway they'd just left.

"What?! That's the other end of the house, you idiot, the gift shop's right through here!"

"But it's a straight shot down the hall—" Bill stumbled to a stop.

The tooth fairy was clawing her way out from under the bedroom door. She caught sight of Bill, and her wings raised in a sharp V like a wasp preparing to attack. "You!"

"Never mind."

Stan dragged Bill back toward the living room. "Now can we go—"

Bill saw the living room—that familiar dark room, the familiar walls and carpet, the familiar armchair facing the doorway as though welcoming him back, the pale blue light from the fish tank climbing the walls like flames—and Stanley Pines, dragging Bill by a chain toward this tomb—and he grabbed on to the staircase railing. "Up."

Stan jerked to a stop. "That's a dead end!" He tried again to pull Bill toward the living room. "Are you insane?!"

"Yes." Bill locked his hand around the railing like a corpse in rigor mortis. He'd break his fingers before he let go. "We're going up."

"We are not—"

The tooth fairy shot past them like a glowing blue bullet, streaking into the kitchen. Stan started, and Bill took the opportunity to drag them up the stairs. Stan finally followed.

"You're not getting out of here with my teeth!" Pearl screamed after them.

"Ignore her," Bill muttered, "she can't risk touching us and she knows it. She's powerless without her minion." He stumbled on a step and just kept climbing on all fours.

"I wouldn't bet on her self control!" Stan struggled to keep up, his cuffed wrist in the lead. "Why are we going this way? How do you expect to get out from the attic?!"

"I don't know! It just seemed like a better idea! Do I have to think of everything?!"

"This was your plan!"

"There's got to be a ladder in the storage over the kids' room, we can get down out a window."

"I don't keep ladders—!"

"Well maybe Jesús does, do you know everything in the attic?! Come on!"

Bill kicked the door to the kids' room until Stan opened it. After a short argument about who should climb to the storage loft ("I have to look, you can't see in the dark!" "And you can?! Since when!" "Since always! You didn't need to know!"), Bill scrambled up the makeshift rungs nailed to the wall while Stan climbed halfway up to give the handcuffs a little slack.

As Bill started searching for anything useful, Pearl's ranting filled the shack: "Those teeth are too good for you!"

"I think she's getting closer," Stan said. "Find anything?"

"Not yet." Bill pulled out a broken umbrella with a hooked handle. He clung to it like it was his only defense as he scanned the loft for any signs of a ladder.

Pearl went on, "They're the most beautiful, pristine, unblemished, perfect teeth I've ever seen in my life!"

Bill asked, "Are they really that great?" He'd never paid that close attention.

"Eh..." Stan shrugged and made a so-so gesture with one hand. "A little weird-looking, honestly. They've got those jagged bits in the front that make 'em look like kids' teeth?"

"Huh."

"They're pure," Pearl snarled. "I've never seen adult teeth so pure! And you're ruining them by drilling out chunks of perfect enamel for unnecessary fillings! You don't have the right to those teeth! I deserve them!"

"Hey Bill," Stan said. "So you knew my dentist works for the tooth fairy, right?"

Bill was dragging aside a large box to see if anything ladder-like was hiding behind it. "Yes."

"And you knew she goes crazy for nice teeth."

"Yes." No ladder; he moved to another stack of boxes.

"And it didn't occur to you that she'd be furious that you carved up your new teeth."

"It's in the past, Stanley! Focus on the present!"

"—and I don't even know how you got magic teeth," Pearl continued. "Fully adult teeth in a fully adult mouth, but somehow they're barely a month old! It's impossible! I could barely believe it myself until I saw your mouth with my own two eyes! I must have those teeth, as soon as possible, so I can preserve them exactly like this, who knows if I'll ever find such a novelty again—"

"Ahh, so that's it," Bill said. "Welp, nope, didn't see that one coming at all."

"She's been shouting a while without actually coming after us," Stan pointed out. "What's she up to?"

Bill paused. "Check." He lay down and stretched his cuffed arm down from the loft to give Stan enough slack to peer out the bedroom door.

Stan frowned. "Huh. Weird."

"She's upstairs?"

"Yeah. But she's just flying in a circle. With... I think a veggie container from the fridge?"

Bill sucked in a breath. "Do we have mushrooms?"

"Wh—yeah? How'd you..."

"What!" Bill half-climbed half-fell to the attic floor. "That little cheater's making a fairy ring! That's not fair!" He leaned out the door with Stan. "She's probably already made the matching ring downstairs. We have to destroy it before—"

The circle of chopped portobello mushrooms glowed white; and with a glittery puff, Dr. Illing appeared in the ring.  He coughed out a lungful of fairy dust.

Pearl pointed at Stan and Bill and screamed, "Get them!" With a murderous scowl and terrified eyes, Dr. Illing stared them down and revved his drill.

Stan yanked Bill back into the bedroom and slammed the door.

Dr. Illing whined. "Aw, f—again?!"

"Just break through it!" Pearl commanded. "It's just wood! You have power tools!"

"He can't do that," Bill said confidently. "Doors don't work like that."

Stan said, "He can do that." A power tool whine announced Dr. Illing beginning his assault on the door.

"Oh." Bill considered that, eyes scanning the bedroom from one side to the other, mouth set in a grim line. "I have an idea." He pointed toward the window with his umbrella. "Stan, open the window." He hooked the umbrella over his elbow as he ripped the bedsheets off Dipper's bed and started tying the corners together.

Stan shook his head in disbelief. "You don't really expect us to climb out that window on bedsheets, do you?"

Bill dragged Stan closer and murmured in his ear, just quiet enough that their assailants wouldn't hear him over the power drill, "No, I expect them to think we climbed out the window, while we hide in the closet in the alcove. Once they're past us to check the window, we can sneak out and run downstairs."

"I don't like hiding like cowards instead of fighting. Illing's rickety, we can take him."

Bill kept tying bedsheets. He picked up Dipper's zodiac blanket, flinched, and tossed it to the floor on the other side of Dipper's bed rather than add it to his chain. "Funny—you didn't seem to have any problem hiding for a week while I had your brother prisoner."

Stan grabbed Bill by the shirt, dragging him closer. "You wanna say that again?"

Bill's hands shot up next to his face in surrender. "Sorry, sorry, sorry—"

"There were people in this shack I wanted to keep safe," Stan growled. "I'm not half as fond of you."

"Got it," Bill squeaked. He pointed toward Mabel's bed. "But I can see a dozen futures that end with our brains splattered across Mabel's dolls. I do not want to fight power tools."

There was a crack as the drill flung the first few splinters of wood free from the door. Stan's scowl deepened, but he let go of Bill and nodded.

They tied the bedsheet rope to a table leg, opened the window, and flung the rope out the window; then retreated into the alcove at the other end of the room, pulled shut the ragged curtain that hid it, and closed themselves in the closet to wait for the tooth fairy and Dr. Illing to break in.

####

(Thanks for reading!! If y'all enjoyed, I'd love to hear what y'all think! Next week we conclude both with the tooth fairy and with whatever the heck is going on between Stan & Bill.)

[pinkorchidsinspring]

EVELYN is that you?! For the Straights, and gays who have never had the soul crushing pleasure of reading (and those who have ;) “The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo”, Allow me to elaborate ⬇️

To be clear: Evelyn Hugo Marry’s seven separate men in order to cultivate her Hollywood image, at the expense of her true love interest and sexuality. Aka lavender marriages, aka bearding. She was bi however we barely have one actual male love interest for her..

let’s meander some of the lovely connections our blonde woman-who-is-attending-an-award-show-with-a-woman-on-her-arm-to-✨dispell✨-the-gay-rumors has with the ever amazing Evelyn Hugo 😍

Green is quotes from the book, anything else is Taylor’s lyrics 💗

"It shouldn't be wrong, to love you. How can it be wrong?"

They say I did something bad / Then why's it feel so good?

I love you ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?

Is Evelyn Hugo going to tell me just enough to keep me on the edge of my seat but never enough to truly reveal anything?

What a Mastermind wouldn’t you say?

I did it because I want to climb the ladder as high as I possibly can. I did it because I want my name, the name my father gave me, in big, bold letters one day. This is my chance.

He wanted a bride, I was making my own name

People think that intimacy is about sex. But intimacy is about truth.

I want to wear his initial / On a chain 'round my neck, chain 'round my neck / Not because he owns me / But 'cause he really knows me / Which is more than they can say

Celia was starting to get goose bumps, so I suggested we go back into the living room, where it was warmer. The desert winds had swooped in and turned this June night into a chilly one. When I started to get cold, too, I asked her if she knew how to make a fire.

He built a fire just to keep me warm

Wine went all over her white shirt.

The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me

I was in emerald green again.

“Evelyn, who was your great love? You can tell me." "Celia St. James.”

I just had to put this in here- no need whatsoever but 😍

Don was off somewhere else, leaving me before I could leave him. Instead, right on my doorstep, was Celia St. James.

Stand there like a ghost / Shaking come the rain, rain / She'll open up the door / And say, are you insane, -ane?

🤭And that's how it works / That's how you get the girl🤷‍♀️

She literally told you-I anyway

You wonder what it must be like to be a man, to be so confident that the final say is yours.

A little side note: The way in which she naturally uses those two fingers is very audacious to me.. but that’s a topic for another time…

I’d risen from ashes more than once by that point. But I didn't want to have to do it again.

And I know I make the same mistakes every time

I'm getting tired even for a phoenix / Always risin' from the ashes / Mendin' all her gashes / You might just have dealt the final blow

"Everyone's a pawn.”

Checkmate, I couldn't lose

One day I'll watch as you're leaving / 'Cause you got tired of my scheming

The black beaded dress I wore that night. Two slits on either side of the skirt went up to my mid-thigh. I loved that dress. (For the nomination for a film called Cornelia Sunset, might I add…)

And what I wanted was to move to the Upper East Side of Manhattan.

Where were the original Polaroids for 1989 shot? Oh in manhattan…

Where does Taylor live? In New York… maybe not manhattan… but you get the point..

Welcome to New York, Taylor wrote this song specifically about moving there, and the very diverse people there…

In the pursuit of a great cause, I think people can be of service in a number of different ways. I always felt that my way was to make a lot of money and then channel it to the groups that needed it. It's a bit self-serving, that logic. I know that. But because of who I was, because of the sacrifices I made to hide parts of myself, I was able to give more money than most people ever see in their entire lifetime. I am proud of that.

"Evelyn, you are not capable of giving it up. And you never will be. And it will be the tragedy of my life that I cannot love you enough to make you mine. That you cannot be loved enough to be anyone's.”

"Do something, babe, say something" (say something) / "Lose something, babe, risk something" (you're losin' me) / "Choose something, babe, I got nothing (got nothing) / To believe / Unless you're choosin' me"

Which is about the cruelest thing you can do to someone you love, give them just enough good to make them stick through a hell of a lot of bad.

You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love / The slowest way is never loving them enough

And let me just say bring a woman who promised to be Taylor’s “invisible bride any day”, to an award show after that homophobic piece of 🔥🗑️ NYT article calling her only straight…

Not to mention her name starts with a K..

Look how happy tree is, because this Evelyn Hugo won’t be hidden forever 💚🤍

[soyouareandrewdobson]

Asians are all the same, right? The racism of a company cock gurgling moron

Like herpes and unlike the Dobbear, I am back baby.

At this point, deepest apology for my long absence. Personal issues over the last two years prevented me from writing anything and also destroyed for the longest time any desire to really continue the blog.

However, I don’t want to let things unfinished and seeing how the hypocricyofandrewdobson still manages to get some rise out of old Dobson related stuff, I wanted to just return, in order to properly contribute a bit more critical thinking in regard to his old comics.

And while I will not immediately return to my retrospective of SYAC, here is at least (for a start) my opinion on one comic of his, that in my opinion just proved hilarious and controversial in hindsight, and rather racist even back then.

I admit, I don’t know anymore what the title of the comic here is. All I know is, that it came out around 2018, shortly after the release of his “Black Panther” comic, another malignant piece of Dobtrash that has made the rounds online ever since. However, unlike the Black Panther comic, which became the center of a lot of discussion regarding Dobson’s racist assumptions about comic book fans while ironically trying to present himself as woke, this one was weirdly drifting off into obscurity. Which is kinda weird, cause in my opinion, it is way more racist and actually kinda insulting to the very craft Dobson supposedly “dedicated” his life to.

Let me explain.

First, over the course of three panels, Dobson comes essentially off like he is considering the medium of comics as inferior to the medium of movies. Making it look as if comics are unsuccessful because they cannot rail in the same amount of money than certain flics and calling them at best nothing more but a pitching ground for corporations to create new shallow mass product.

Now I am a bit of a realist and I know that, especially in the world of mainstream American superhero comics, this is kinda the case. Most comic book characters, stories and franchises are owned by multibillion dollar corporations, who either have a direct hand in the creation of the product (via corporate mandate for example) and/or use the likeness of the product to make profit in additional, more valuable revenues than the printed medium. Such as cartoons, merchandise and movies. One example I can think of, to show that it isn’t just an American issue: Yugioh. The card game wouldn’t have come to be if there hadn’t been a manga starring a little boy putting together an ancient Egyptian puzzle, but while the original manga ended way back in March of 2004, the card game makes millions globally still after 25 years and counting.

But that doesn’t change the fact, that comics as a medium still have value. Without the stories told within their pages, we wouldn’t have characters such as Captain America, Superman, the Mask, the Ninja Turtles and so on to begin with. Don’t get me even started on stories that aren’t falling into the American mainstream comic trend, but still succeeded in the printed comic medium partly because of genuine artistic and profound value such as Maus, Barefoot Gen, Watchmen, V for Vendetta, TinTin and a shitton of (other) stuff from Europe and Asia.

So when Dobson, who always acted like he is proud to be a cartoonist and that comics are a superior medium to others, suddenly reduces them to just being a “pitch ground for better stuff down the line” at best, I as a fan of the medium and just the art of creating stories in itself, get kinda pissed.

Additionally, the way how he compares movies to be better than comics, is severely flawed.

He brings up the fact, that “Captain America: Civil War” made over one billion dollars at the box office as an example, while pointing out the fact, that most single comic issues barely manage to sell 100.000 copies, while holding up a copypasted “Civil War” issue.

Already, Dobson essentially compares apples with bananas, while also giving both false and incomparable data, that also ignores many aspects to be considered.

For starters: He compares the earnings of both movies and comics with two different values. For movies, he goes by the monetary profit a superhero movie could possibly make, while for the comic issue, he goes by the total number of copies sold.

But here is the thing: Assuming the average selling price of a comic is at 4 dollars for a single 30 page issue, selling 100.000 copies would ring in like 400.000 dollars. And considering that producing one issue likely costs a company less than 20.000 dollars (obvious costs for mass production and distribution not withstanding) they can still make a decent profit this way from ONE issue alone. One issue. Not multiple issues of a long running, but sadly underperforming series. All of that by the way doesn’t even account for the fact, that most single issues at best tell only a quarter of a decent short story nowadays and ignores later “long term” factors, such as reprints of the issue, late term buying of the issue, tradepaperback sells of the issue, the longterm effect and cultural impact the issue may have on the actual series or plot continuity  (such as Amazing Spiderman 122, aka “The Night Gwen Stacy Died”). Don’t get me even started on the fact, that many of these issues get first sold in the US and only over the course of one year or longer may then additionally be sold in other parts of the world, therefore bringing in even more money for the publisher.

Example: The Duck comics by Don Rosa, which earn more than four times more in Europe, than they ever did in America, despite the guy being from California. Finally, a a little add addendum: that example Dobson gives indirectly via the “Civil War” issue? A quick google search revealed, that Civil War issue 1 sold over 300k copies in May of 2006 alone. Sure, not necessarily the best numbers ever for a single issue (as evident by the following list: https://bookriot.com/bestselling-comics-of-all-time/ )but still nothing to be ashamed of.

And yes, I know that we live currently in a time, where comic book sells have dropped significantly for a variety of reasons, one of them being an overall lack of decent stories. But as long as other stuff still manages to run freaking circles around American superheroes (*cough* One Piece *cough*) I wouldn’t say the medium itself is dead. Just a specific branch of it is suffering from a lack of quality and the customers are jumping ship.

A superhere movie meanwhile is a completely different beast. Ever since “The Avengers” came out in 2012, most superhero movies are 150-250 million dollar behemoths, that get overhyped by advertisement campaigns that are almost equally as expensive and try to trick the audience into believing, that they all are somehow the next big mindblowing thing on the big screen. Plus there hasn’t really been a superhero movie in the last 10+ years, that didn’t release simultaneously worldwide, instead of only coming out in the USA, and then a few months later, in other parts of the world.

So is it any wonder then, if a superhero movie that got advertised like the second coming of a saint, makes 1 billion, when there are already billions of potential customers worldwide all at once when the product launches?

That number btw becomes actually less impressive, once you start to think about how it came to be. Something our blue bear obviously didn’t.

See, on average every movie theater demands like what, 12-14 dollars per movie nowdays?

If we divide the box office of Civil war (1.152 billion btw) with 12 dollars, that makes on average 100 million people worldwide who watched the movie. A bit more than one or two percent of the worlds population. Not to forget, that of the box office success we have to substract such things as production cost of the movie, advertisement, the earnings of the theaters… so suddenly the movie may at best have had only earned one quarter of its box office for Disney as actual profit.

Not to forget, Dobson made that comic in 2018, when superhero movies on average did ring in so much money, because of the hype machine. But now we have 2023 and within the last five years (and especially 2023 itself) we have seen how superhero movies can also utterly fail to make money or even earn just enough to make back the production cost. Birds of Prey, Eternals, Ant Man 3, that Secret Invasion streaming show that still cost over 200 million… Do I need to get on?

Bottom line, Dobson’s indirect jab at comics as the less profitable revenue doesn’t hold that much water really in the real world, where once the hype dies down, comics may actually prove themselves as the more valuable longterm medium. Even if it may just be for the fact, that they end up staying longer relevant in the popcultural subconscious than the current movies, which tend to lose relevance with each new hastily produced and released installment in the franchise.

But where this comic really shines and shows Dobson’s ignorance on a cultural level, is in the last panel. When all off sudden it turns “racial” by claiming that Asian people, unlike “traditional” comic readers (aka white, in Dobbear s eyes therefore instantly racist people), would eat a Marvel character like Amadeus Cho up.

Question Dobson: Why do you assume, they would eat him up? You give no real argument based on anything the character does storywise, that the “target audience” may find admirable. So I can only think, that your reasoning is, because he is ever so slightly east asian coded.

Boy, do we have to unpack not just a can of worms, but a whole package of cans now.

First, the chosen language by saying “eat it up”. When being a writer, you should know that you need at times to choose your words wisely, because of the sheer implications they can carry. And the statement “eat it up” sounds way to close to a negative statement like “suck it up”. Making it come off as if Dobson considers Asian people to be mindless cattle that will consume the grub the House of Mouse will give them without question or any desire for actual quality to it.

Second, it recks of a certain mind set I hate within the American entertainment industry and some of its creators and consumers. That mind set being, that “non-traditional” American cultures supposedly don’t know better than Americans in what is okay for the sake of representation and entertainment or not. It’s a mindset that goes beyond the necessity of e.g. localizing a foreign product to the national market, by e.g. creating a sterilized, corporately mandated and rather unrealistic depiction of another culture within their product, that will fall apart as soon as the people who are supposed to be represented get a proper look at it and realize, how pandering and often times badly researched, if not outright offensive, it is.

Only recently did we see in the world of animation how that can backfire, when Disney released the trailer for “Primos” an upcoming animated show supposedly about a half Latina girl spending her summer vacation with her annoying cousins, people calling it based on the intro (and a leaked pilot) pandering towards a latino audience in a racist manner. And guess what: currently, Disney shelves it and tries to bury its existence like Dobson his old inflation art.

Dobson himself has actually indulged in that sort of shit kinda, back with his infamous Nintendo comic.

Essentially calling the “true”, Nintendo corporation approved depiction of his childhood Nintendo heroes disgraceful, for not falling in line with the late 80s depictions he saw in localized, made in America products such as the DiC cartoons. That and minor homophobia mixed with misogyny by calling Link “girly” for having longer blond hair since Ocarina of Time and blaming fangirls for it.

Third, and that is kinda related to my prior point, the reality of things is, that “Asians” actually did not eat up that sort of thing in the last couple of years. Sure, there is always that thing about a Chinese market. the big movie companies try to pander to and may succeed with some dumb action flics featuring big robots.

But the reality is, that not even people living in a dictatorship will eat up every trash you give to them, just because it comes from Hollywood or is supported by their glorious leadership. Disney tried to create two pandering messes of movies for Chinese people to watch, called Mulan (the live action adaptation) and that Shang Chi movie. And how did they do there? Oh right! The government did not even allow Shang Chi to be released and Mulan was released but supposedly didn’t do so well, considering (COVID not withstanding) it only made 70 million globally!

Don’t get me even started on every human right controversy in relation to the later, starting with filming in China near a concentration camp and ending with the main actress being essentially a Chinese propaganda puppet.

So, if those movies flopped, why would Chinese people for example flock for an Asian Hulk? A hulk that is not even Chinese but Korean.

See, this is another issue that fails with the example: The actual choice of character Dobson name dropped is actually kinda terrible.

For those unaware: Amadeus Cho is a supporting character in the Marvel comics, created in 2005 by American writer Greg Pak and artist Takeshi Miyazawa. The later, despite the name being very east Asian, sounding, actually being from Canada. Now both do have east Asian roots so to speak (Pak  e.g. is the son of an Korean-american man with a Caucasian woman), but they also have grown up within a society that taught them both western social values more so than we would see in east Asian countries. So with the creators already not necessarily having the most real life experience with the average mindset of a Korean citizen, can we really say that their actual creation helps “represent” those people of a foreign, non-american culture?

And that is not even covering stuff like the actual story of the character itself.

See, in the comics, Cho is supposed to be an American-Korean genius (wish fullfillment much, Greg?) and one of the smartest people in the Marvel Universe. His parents named him after Amadeus Mozart (a pretty white motherfucker as far as I remember) and he grew up under Methodist beliefs. So basically the “Korean heritage” of the character has already been thrown out of the window. Now I don’t expect the character to act stereotypical Korean, listen to K-pop, declare bulgogi to be his favorite dish or any of that shit. But when you want to sell me the character as being in some way or another connected to his ancestral culture, shouldn’t he engage at least in some “Korean coded” things?

I mean, the character of Anne Boonchuy in Amphibia is a Thai-American who acts more like a 13 year old girl that learns to be less selfish and impulsive over the course of the show and whose “heritage” isn’t thrown at us, the viewer, most of the time. In fact, Anne herself acknowledges that she e.g. can’t really speak thai, despite her own mother being fluent in it and a season 3 episode reveals, that Anne is “begrudgingly” a part of the L.A. thai community. And yet, in connection to the shows story and as part of Anne’s characterization, her heritage is acknowledged and plays a part of who she is. Even if it simply means she knows how to cook certain thai dishes, loves her parents and their customs, helps out in their restaurant, can speak a few words thai and knows the basics of Muay Thai, a form of martial arts (and fighting sport) from Thailand.

Amadeus doesn’t even have Korean parents anymore, because they were killed as part of his tragic hero backstory. Nor has he ever visited an Asian country. Oppps.

To build further up on it, Amadeus becomes for the longest time simply a major supporting character in the Marvel universe for the likes of Hulk and Hercules, two white coded characters. Sure, he plays a major role in the defeat of some cosmic horror level villains (such as Mikaboshi in the Chaos God storyline most people forgot even existed) but it takes a long time for him to become a “A-lister” so to speak.

In fact, according to Wikipedia, it wasn’t till after “Secret Wars” in 2016 (eleven years after the character was created), that Amadeus thanks to a chain of events eventually got his chance to Hulk out. And then they still had to kill Bruce Banner to make Amadeus “stand out” initially (don’t worry, Bruce came back. I mean, characters actually staying dead in comics, so that heroes can learn there are consequences? Preposterous) In fact, Amadeus hasn’t really proven himself as a decent “solo” act. Instead he became a member of the Champions (among Miles Morales, Mrs. Marvel, Vision’s daughter Viv. Nova and Cyclops), essentially creating yet another superhero team for teenaged vigilantes. Despite the fact, Cho himself should be by now in his mid 20s.

Now look, I do not want to shit talk the character. Partly because I haven’t read everything he was in myself and partly because in the few things I did see him in (both pre- and post Hulk) he was okay. He is a decent hero and person, who tries to do good, even if he screws up here and there. That is something I can admire in a character in general. But he is not a good “representation” of another culture, because his complexion and minor physical features aside, he is NOT embodying even minor values or traditions of that foreign culture. He is simply a Korean-American (or technically Canadian), who falls more on the American side of things.

So essentially, Dobson who virtue signaled on multiple occasions how bad it is when companies he didn’t like tried to speak on behalf of other cultures, would have no problem at all to ask for Asian people to swallow this obviously “Made in American” product. The “Made in America” line actually working both on a metaphorical and a storytelling level, cause trying to google what “east Asian coded” heroes in the Marvel Universe actually come from an Asian country instead of being simply born on American soil, is pretty damn small.

After 20 minutes I only found Shang Chi, as he was born in China, and that character was created as part of kung-fu exploitation in the 70s by white dudes.

Yaiks

However, none of that tops the next two points that really sell Dobson to me as an American centralistic racist. Or at least a twat who doesn’t understand how through bad wording he comes of as ignorant of other people’s cultures.

The way he generalizes Asian people in his statement, while also ignoring the actual accomplishments in the creation of entertainment in multiple Asian countries.

If you’ve read closely what I typed, you may have seen that I used the term Asian at times in tandem with the term “east Asian” to e.g. describe Amadeus Cho.

And that had a very deliberate reason. While I was not a fan of geography in school, even I know that Asia as a continent is not “nationally” as homogenous as let’s say Australia or North America. In fact, Asia is the biggest continent on the planet, hosts more than half of earth’s population and consists of at least 47 internationally acknowledged states.

States such as Turkey, Russia, Afghanistan, Pakistan, India, China, Japan, Malaysia, Thailand, Vietnam, North- and South Korea, Egypt, Israel, Iraq, Iran and so on.

Now what all these states have in common, is that they have their own unique historical, social and “racial” culture and background. Heck, religiously speaking, Asia is the cradle of the world.

As such, Dobson stating that a “Korean coded” character such as Amadeus Cho (who is only Korean on the most surface level and would technically just be a legacy character of yet another white person) would be an immediate hulk smash hit with all these different people of different backgrounds…. Yeah, it sounds like condescending, colonization inspired shit, a smooth brain would come up with.

To Dobson “Asia”, at least based on that comic, is only defined as the “yellow skinned” people from the far east, who like rice, noodles, spicy food and give us anime, Godzilla, fireworks, buddhism and communism. It does not include anyone from the middle east or of more European ancestry. And if you are even remotely familiar about history, you would also know that Japanese, Koreans and Chinese all around do not e.g. like to be thrown into a pot with the others for a variety of reasons. Many of them political.

Or to sum it up even shorter: Dobson insinuated that a very shallow, “east Asian” coded American comic character would be an immediate hit with more than 47 different countries, ignoring that not all of them share the same background despite being part of the “same” landmass. And in doing so, he simultaneously generalized and denounced entire groups of people based on their racial and cultural background, which in as far as I am aware of, is considered racist.

But the “racism” is supposedly justified, because “representation” matters, it would be giving the middle finger to “traditional” comic fans and those nations and their culture are underrepresented globally.

Which is baloney.

Don’t get me wrong, I myself think that representation does matter. But the world does not necessarily rely on the good old US-Ayy only to give it to us.

Cause a lot of the Asian nations I brought up here? They have their own entertainment industry and stories, which again, get ignored by Dobson to make a dumb and false point.

I mean, manga is currently dominating the international comic market, all while Japan has also a booming animation industry and some of the most iconic heroes in modern popculture with the likes of Son Goku, Kamen Rider, Super Sentai etc.

China has a prominent -if propaganda driven- movie industry.

India has Bollywood and delivers some of the most ridiculous but awesome musical movies on the planet.

Russia had authors such as Tolstoy and movie directors, that redefined the “art” of filmmaking.

Korea had a few years ago one of the biggest streaming hits with Squid Game, while also earning an Oscar for a movie titled Dobs- I mean “Parasite”.

Egypt, Iran, Iraq, Turkey… even nations that have not entertainment living up to “western standards” still produce stuff in some way or form to entertain the masses and their people. Just google up the character Kara Murat aka the avenger of Anatolia.

And don’t get me even started on the sheer ton of mythology, stories and history each of their cultures have provided the world with. Journey to the West? Baba Yaga, the entirety of the Gilgamesh epos...

And yet, there is this indirect assumption by Dobson, that all of them would be so deprived of “heroes” in their media and folklore, they would letch on second hand shop Hulk? Fuck off, Dobbear. I know you like to suck corporate cock as long as you think they are woke and you have childhood nostalgia for them, but this is pathetic. Take Amadeus before A Rama Raju comes around and roundhouse kicks him back to Canada. Then get the taste of mouse smegma of your Disney cock gobbling lips.

[abiiors]

Can we get some sick Matty fluff? Coming from a gal fighting a sinus infraction rn 😢

A sinus infection sounds horrible :( I hope you feel better soon x

Also here you go, I hope you like it! There’s some nudity in this one but it’s absolutely non-sexual.

If you want a swapped version of this, go here!

Sick Day

A string of sneezes echoes around the house followed by a wet cough. 

You wince at how bad he sounds today. Despite the check-up he’s had yesterday, his cough only sounds worse. You try to hurry up in the kitchen, beg the soup to finish cooking as soon as possible. When it takes too much time, you put the flame on a low heat and make your way to your shared bedroom. 

You can see a mop of curly hair peeking out from under three different blankets. Even when he’s so bundled up, you can see a shiver wrack his body every now and then.

He’s not allowed to speak, he’s not allowed to sing and he has no strength to get out of bed. In short, what you have on your hands today is a big, irritable baby. You try to caress his cheek but his face only scrunches up in pain at even the smallest of touches. That’s how you know that the congestion is terrible. 

When he feels the bed dip under your weight, he turns around with great effort and buries his face in your lap. His eyes are red-rimmed and the bags under them are so pronounced—it breaks your heart to see him like this. But there’s only so much you can do for him apart from sitting with him and stroking his hair.

‘Have you taken your medicine, love?’ you ask as you continue to stroke his head. It’s warm, so much warmer than it normally is that you mentally try to remember the last time you checked his temperature.

He opens the Notes App on his phone with some difficulty and starts typing.

I don’t think I can swallow anything :( 

‘Matty…’ you scold gently but only because you’re worried about him. ‘Baby, you need to take them.’

Another :( is his only response. 

‘How about I bring you some soup, yeah? That might ease up your throat?’

He contemplates that for a bit and then barely nods his head. It takes another two minutes for him to actually get his head off your lap but you let him be as clingy as he wants to. 

You waste no time getting back to the kitchen and bringing him a bowl of steaming soup. Getting him to sit up, however, proves to be a bit of a herculean task. He tries not to put all his weight on you but you end up having to prop him up against the pillows anyway. He holds up his phone and frowns.

I feel like an invalid.  

A small laugh escapes you at that. He’s managed to make you laugh even when he feels like death warmed up and he clearly looks proud about it. 

‘Come on now,’ you hand him the bowl, ‘or should we pretend it’s an airplane?’

He rolls his eyes but ends up cracking a smile anyway. He even manages to finish the entire bowl of soup. But then his mood sours again when you hold up the two round pills in front of him. 

‘Don’t make this into a battle of wills. You know I’ll win,’ you quickly warm him just as he’s in the middle of making a face. But in the end, he obliges. 

The muscles of his throat move, trying to reject the pill but he swallows again and gulps down some more water. Then he picks up his phone again. 

Will you stay?

‘Of course, I will,’ you say. In fact, you’re already getting comfy in the bed and pulling his head on your lap. 

He cracks a small smile when he feels your fingers running through his hair and then mouths a “thank you”. A combination of the medicine and his exhaustion—it doesn’t take long before his breathing evens out.

Sometime in the second hour of his nap, he begins to kick off the blankets one by one. You run over a hand over his forehead, his cheek and notice that the collar of his jumper is slowly turning damp with sweat. 

‘Matty,’ you shake him as gently as possible. ‘You need to wake up, love. I think your fever is breaking.’

He groans a bit but then cracks an eye open. 

‘Do you think you can take a bath?’ 

Only if you can take one with me,

he types out. Despite the illness, you like this clingy version of him, how he wants you to be there for every little thing he does. 

***

He sways a bit at first but manages to hold himself upright while you get him out of his clothes. The bath is almost full by now—you’ve made sure to add some oils in there too and now your entire bathroom smells like peppermint and eucalyptus. 

The bath is big enough for the two of you but when you get in after him, he instantly scoots closer; closes his eyes as you lather shampoo on his scalp. His face is still paler than usual but he looks much more alert now. Much less ready to keel over. 

The water will go cold in a bit, you know it will. For now, you just let him indulge as much as he wants to.

[guardian-angle22]

Tagged by @beautifulhigh & @welcometololaland to list my top 5 Tarlos scenes.

This is really going to show my Season 3 bias ngl.

#5. 2.12 "Don't make me twist your arm."/"Please do."

Their chemistry is insane when they're teasing each other downstairs and then they kiss each other so softly once they get upstairs. I'm a sucker for a good soundtrack moment and there's something iconic about having their house literally light up on fire under them while obliviously making out as Fever by Elvis Presley plays in the background. Peak cinema tbh.

#4. 3.04 "Hey, baby. Breathe."/"Welcome home, TK."

We can all agree to have these two can count as one scene, right? they go back to back. The way TK reached for Carlos as soon as he woke up and immediately noticed that Carlos wasn't breathing right even though he just woke up from a coma, is still groggy, and barely has his eyes open? soulmate shit right there. If you haven't watched this without the music. my god. do it now. & then add in how happy they both look as Carlos leads TK into the loft with his hands over his eyes, and then when TK looks around and you can see on his face when he realizes he still gets to have this despite everything? Beautiful.

#3. 3.18 "For the first time in my life, the love that I feel is infinitely more powerful than the fear of losing it."/"A thousand times yes."

I mean can I even say more about the proposal that hasn't already been said? the urgency TK felt that prompted him to wake Carlos up in the middle of the night. His speech to Carlos. All the little touches throughout. The way they both were crying by the end. It was beautiful and it was perfect for them. (the only way it could have been better is if they maybe stopped to turn on a fucking lamp)

#2. 3.08 "Hey, look at me."/"I love you."

This was their first mutual "I love you" shown on screen and while the context was heartbreaking, it was still so so sweet. Carlos being the loving caregiver, kissing TK's forehead, rubbing his knee, wanting to make sure he eats. The way Carlos tells TK to look at him and he does immediately, even though TK has been basically avoiding eye contact with everyone the entire scene will live rent free in mind for all of time, I'm sure.

#1. 3.13 "Do you have any idea how proud of you I am?"/"You're just so sweet."

Can I put the entirety of 3.13 on the list at number one? Because it's my favorite episode for them. It has so many things. It has them being domestic and flirtatious. TK being distracted by Carlos in yoga clothes. It has them fighting a bit, overcoming those obstacles, and communicating. It showed Carlos as a multidimensional character with flaws like jealousy and pettiness, but then growing through it to come to the realization that he can't be everything that TK needs at the end of the day.

But if I absolutely had to pick just one scene from it, I would chose the opening scene. TK sharing with Carlos about his meeting, finding a sponsor, & the realization of not having Gwyn around affecting his mindset. Carlos waiting up with his adorable glasses, reading articles to educate himself, telling TK how proud of him he is. TK calling him sweet and flirting with him. I just-- 🥰🥰

----

Because I'm doing this pretty late in the day, this has made it's rounds through a lot of my mutuals already. so I'm just going to tag a few people that I haven't seen do it yet (no pressure though if you're not feelin' it. but also if you have done it and I missed it let me know so I can read yours!): @morganaspendragonss @ourlegendwillbefitforverse @detective-giggles @noxsoulmate @ladytessa74 @autistic-lesbian-story-lover @tkstrandreyes @pragmatic-optimist @reyescarlos @spencessmile @poledancingghostson @sunshinestrand @mandiiigurllll

[buckysqueen80]

Warning: ptsd, smut, aggressive tendencies Cowboy Bucky!

AN:

This was written in 3 parts with a slow burn. If you know the rule you know the rule. Now we ride on!

Save a Horse, Ride a Bucky Pt1

I had been working on this ranch, from about the time that I was old enough to wear my first pair of cowboy boots.

My father had owned this ranch before me, just as his father before him.

Before that, the ranch had been in the hands of the Rogers family.

But when they lost their only son, the family decided to pack up and sell the ranch.

That’s how it came to be in my family, and now currently mine.

I was proud that I was able to keep this ranch going, despite the troubles I had faced the first year after taking it over from my father.

We had a hard calving season, last round, with some of the calves not surviving. So things had been tight for a bit, but we pulled through.

I lost my buckaroo a while back after the last calving season, and had made due without one for the time being, but I couldn’t go without one with the upcoming show season starting.

I was headed into town to put a posting up looking for a new buckaroo.

When I got into town, I walked into the town watering hole, calling hello to the owner, Clint, who was holed up at the bar, serving the regulars.

“Y/N!” shouted Clint, as he scurried over to the end of the bar, where I stood.

“Hey Clint!” I say giving him a one armed hug.

“What brings you into town?” he asks me, looking down at the stack of papers I had in my hand.

“I’m finally going to hire a new buckaroo. Been putting it off since Rhodney left. But show season is in a few months, and I want this to go as smoothly as possible. So, do you think I can put up a flier here, in case someone is interested?” I ask him.

“Actually, funny that you mention it, but there is someone down at the other end of the bar that just came into town a few days ago looking for work. You’re looking for someone, he’s looking for work, it’s meant to be!” he says to me.

Before I can say anything, Clint calls down to someone at the end of the bar.

“Hey, Barnes!! Come here!!” he calls out.

I just roll my eyes at Clint, preparing for the worst.

As I lift my head up, I am met with the most electrifying blue eyes I have ever seen.

My eyes traveled to the pinkest lips, as they continued looking him up and down.

I let out a breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.

He took off his hat, putting it up against his chest and taking a bow, before a low reverberating sound rumbled in his chest.

“Howdy! My name is James, but most people call me Bucky!” he says, taking my hand in his.

The moment our skin touched, a shock wave of electricity flashed up my arm, causing a trail of goosebumps to erupt on my bare arm.

Bucky must have sensed it as well, because when I looked back at him, he had a smirk on his face, and made no effort to let go of my hand.

Clearing my throat, I pulled my hand from his.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky! I’m Y/N. Clint tells me you’re new in town and looking for work. Tell me, do you have any experience working on a ranch?” I ask, not realizing something was funny, when Clint snickered.

“Actually I do. I used to work on the Stark ranch several years ago.” He says.

“Theeeee Stark ranch?!? What did you do there, per se?” I asked him, trying to hide the fact that I was impressed.

“Well I was the lead buckaroo. That was until his son became old enough to take over. He decided to make some changes, and tossed me out into the cold. Since then, I’ve been bouncing from ranch to ranch offering up work, in exchange for a meal and a place to stay. Sometimes I got lucky, and managed a few months of work, others only a few days.” he said, taking a seat on a bar stool.

I did the same, and ask Clint for a bottle of Budwiser.

Bucky arched an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

“What are you having?” I ask him, and when he doesn’t reply, I signal to Clint to make it two bottles.

As Clint put the two bottles in front of Bucky and I, we both nodded in thanks.

“So tell me, what sort of work are you looking to be done on your ranch?” Bucky asks, before taking a swig of his beer.

“Well, as a matter of fact, I’m looking for a new buckaroo. My last one left after our last calving season, looking for a better opportunity. I couldn’t blame him, after the rough season we had, it was anything but stable for a few months after that. But with show season about to start, I need someone who I can trust.” I tell him straight.

“I think you’ll find that I can be trustworthy, Y/N.” Bucky says, looking me dead in the eyes.

I didn’t know what was going on with me, but I couldn’t sit still under his gaze.

Clearing my throat, I stand up, downing the rest of my beer.

“Tell you what. Be at the old Rogers ranch for six am tomorrow, show me what you can do, and we will go from there. Deal?” I ask, extending my hand out to him.

He raises his eyebrows in shock, but quickly recovers, looking down at my hand, then licks his lips before taking it into a firm handshake.

“Deal! I’ll see you at six am.” he says.

“Great! See you then, and don’t be late!” I said before calling out a goodbye to Clint, and walking out of the bar to my truck.

Once I got into my truck, I let out a deep, ragged breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.

Just as I put the key into the ignition, there was a knock on my window, making me jump.

I look over to see Bucky at my door.

Rolling down the window, I look at him, waiting for him to say something.

“I just um, I just wanted to say thank you for giving me the chance. I know you don’t have to, but I do appreciate the chance.” he says.

“It’s just a chance for now. I’m not easily impressed, so if you can impress me tomorrow, we will go from there!” I say as I turned my key, the engine roaring to life.

“I’ll see you in the am. Remember, don’t be late!” I remind him, putting the truck into drive.

I looked back in the rearview mirror, and saw that Bucky was still standing where I left him.

~~~~

The next morning, I woke up before my alarm.

Stretching, I get up and walk to the bathroom, turning on the tap for the shower, before heading to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.

I looked up and out the window and saw Bucky fixing the broken latch on the horse’s pen area.

Shaking my head, I checked the time on the stove, showing that it was only a quarter after five.

I march back to the bathroom, and jump in the shower, while getting ready for the day.

A short time later, I made my way back to the kitchen with my boots in hand and an elastic on my wrist to put my hair in a ponytail.

I opened the kitchen door to signal that it was safe to come into the house.

A few moments later, the screen door opened, and in walked Bucky.

“Morning!” he says, walking into the kitchen.

“Morning! There’s coffee there if you want some?!Cups are in the far right cupboard.” I tell him.

He takes down a mug, and pours himself a cup of coffee, leaning up against the sink while taking his first sip, his eyes closing in appreciation.

“Thank you for fixing the latch. I’ve been meaning to get to it, but I just haven’t had a chance.” I explain.

“Wasn’t a problem really. Didn’t take me that long.” he says, while enjoying more of his coffee.

“So, I figured we could start by herding the calves from the field. I”m presuming that you can saddle up, and we can ride out.” I say, standing up as I walk over to the sink, reaching around him to put the mug in the sink.

The smell of Bucky’s cologne wafts up my nose, and makes my stomach do flops, as I fight the urge to get closer to him.

Clearing my throat, I step back, shaking my head, and turn to grab my hat off the table.

Bucky puts his now empty mug in the sink, and grabs his hat off the counter.

As we hurriedly walk to the stable,I saddle up my horse quickly, making sure things are secure before mounting up.

I watched as Bucky did the same, and was atop his horse.

“Follow me, and don’t get lost!” I warn him.

And with that, we head out to the field.

~~~

Several hours later, and all calves herded in field, we head back to the house for lunch.

We decided to eat on the porch, as the weather heated up once the sun came out.

Bucky took his shirt off, wiping away the sweat that had formed on his brow, showing off well toned arms and chest under a muscle shirt.

I had taken my sweater off, sitting in my tank top as well, and I swear, without looking over at him, I could feel his eyes roaming over me.

I squirmed in my seat, while finishing up my lunch, trying not to pay attention to him watching me.

Once I was done, I stood up taking my plate inside.

Standing at the counter, I steadied myself against the sink and tried to take calming breaths.

When Bucky came inside, bringing his plate as well, I turned to look at him.

“Can you ride? I don’t just mean like you did this morning, but I mean can you do rodeo riding?” I ask him.

“I’ve broken in a few horses in my time, so yeah, I guess the answer is yes.” He says.

“Good. I have a steed that I’ve been trying to break in. Want to give it a go?” I offer.

“I love a challenge. Sometimes it’s especially rewarding to get an animal to do your bidding. Especially when they have a lot of fiery spirit in them.” He said in a low, breathy manner, never taking his eyes off of me.

Taking a hard swallow, I pushed away from the counter, and wandered over to where the horses were out in the pen.

“This is Brimstone. He’s got a temper on him when it comes to someone trying to ride him. He’s thrown people off. If you want to try, you’re more than welcome to it.” I say, reaching over the paddock to get the saddle.

I held Brimstone’s bridle, while Bucky saddled the horse.

Sensing that something was amiss, Brimstone started pacing in spot, steadily becoming more agitated.

I watched as Bucky slowly and softly ran his hand down Brimstone’s flank, gently petting his mane.

Slowly Bucky walks in front of Brimstone, locking eye contact with him, holding out his hand so the horse could sniff it.

Brimstone stomped twice, bowing his head down, before nuzzling Bucky’s hand.

Bucky got up into Brimstone’s face, whispering something I couldn’t quite hear.

After petting his forehead and muzzle, Bucky walked back around to his flank before mounting in the saddle.

I held my breath as I watched Bucky sit in the saddle, not taking the reins, but holding onto the horn.

Brimstone let out a whinny, bowing down, then back up, letting Bucky take the reins.

Ensuring to hold on tight as soon as he took them, he waited for Brimstone to make a move.

All of a sudden, Brimstone takes off, and Bucky holds on tight.

After bucking for what seemed like forever, Brimstone couldn’t shake Bucky off, so decided to bow one final time, as Bucky petted Brimstone's neck telling him how good he was.

I couldn’t believe it.

I had been trying for months to break in Brimstone, and Bucky had managed to do so in under an hour.

I walk up to where Bucky had just dismounted, and held out my hand to him.

“If you want the job, it’s yours. I can’t say anything but that I’m impressed. Especially with Brimstone.” I say, just as Brimstone offered a nudge against Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky offered him a sugar cube.

Brimstone whinnied in delight, beginning to prance in the enclosed pen proudly.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

This was definitely going to be interesting to have Bucky here.

~~~~~

It had been several months since I hired Bucky.

To say that he’s proven to be a great help is an understatement.

I had managed to catch up on all the tasks that had fallen by the waist side.

Bucky helped me with the bigger tasks, and took on a lot of the menial ones as well.

We had just finished for the day, and I was sitting on the rocking chair on the porch.

Bucky came bouncing up the steps before sitting down on the top step.

We sat watching the sun set on the horizon, just enjoying each other’s company for the evening.

Over the last few months, the tension between Bucky and I had been growing, with his random off the cuff comments continuously in the foreground, giving people the impression that there was something between us.

Tonight was no exception.

“Y/N?” I hear him call out.

“Yes, Bucky?” I replied back.

“Thank you again for this. For the opportunity, and the chance to prove myself.” he says, turning to look at me.

I turn to look at him, and notice a range of emotions flicker across his face.

Trying to defuse whatever was to come, I stood up, about ready to excuse myself, when Bucky stood up as well, moving to block the door a moment, clearing his throat before trying to swallow his dry mouth.

“Y/N, I … “ he starts, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly a few times.

“It’s ok, Bucky. I’m going to go to bed.” I say, waiting for him to move.

As I try to move past him, he puts his hands on my arms to stop me.

“Y/N, I know this doesn’t seem right and with you being my boss, this is not something I would normally say, but I like you. You took a big chance by hiring me, and I know I can and probably would ruin anything that we have, but I want you to know I really do like you. I’ve been attracted to you since I met you!” he admits.

“Bucky, it’s ok really.” I say,my voice barely above a whisper. I couldn’t believe my ears.

Before I can say or do anything else, I’m being pulled into a warm and passionate kiss.

His lips are warm and soft against mine. Almost velvety.

Once the shock wore off, I tilt my head back, feeding into the kiss.

We stayed like that until we needed air.

I stood there with my mouth agape, trying to process the thoughts, or lack of thoughts, running around my head.

“Y/N? Say something? Did you enjoy the kiss?” he asks.

Before I can say anything, the phone rings, and I motion for him to stay put, that I’d be a moment.

Before I pick up the receiver, I turn back and look at Bucky getting his attention and he turns around and when he finally looks at me, I just nod my head yes.

I pick up the receiver, looking Bucky square in the eyes.

“Hello?”

Pt 2 to follow

[extremelyblackandwhite]

WAIT WAIt!!! Billy asking Steve for Daisys hand?

pairing: steve kemp x dark!reader

warnings: 18+ topics (under 18 year olds do NOT interact/reader), mentions of miscarriage

a/n: steve and the kemps are back. requests are back on!

part of toxic

        - I don’t know, darling. - Y/N fixed her hair in front of the mirror, her left hand holding a golden crimson lipstick bullet. - He said he wanted to speak to you tonight. 

       - Why would I subject myself to speaking to William alone? I barely like speaking to him when Daisy’s around. Speaking of whom, why is she not coming? 

       - Daisy’s unpacking the stuff at their new place. She’s 24, Steve. She can go a week without seeing mum and dad. - she crossed her arms. - Besides should I remind you of your other children?

       - What other children? Rose’s in Los Angeles and you know how I feel about that, the triplets are scattered around various universities and my boys are grown. 

       - Aaron is grown and he won’t go to bed if you don’t check the room for monsters. What are you talking about? 

       - I miss my girls and I was expecting Daisy to at least come with her disappointing boyfriend. - he sat on the bed staring at his wife. - We need a new baby. 

       - Don’t change the subject. - she sat next to him, holding his hand. - You should be proud. Our girls are doing so well and they’re very well rounded considering they have you for a dad. 

       - I wanna see my girl not her knucklehead boyfriend. - he rolled his eyes as he heard the bell ring.

No matter how long Daisy’s boyfriend had stuck around, Steve never fully came around him. He put up with him for the past seven years, even when Daisy begged for him to come along for family vacation, Steve still didn’t like him. Y/N had naively thought that after a while he’d come around to Daisy having a boyfriend, specially when they started living together on their second year of university. However, it seemed that no matter how hard the poor boy tried, Steve just did not enjoy his existence. He opened the door to see his worse enemy - his words - standing in front of him with flowers and a bottle of wine. 

       - Dr. Kemp. - he cleared his throat.

       - William. 

       - I got these for your wife. - he extended the flowers and the wine. - I don’t expect to be here for much longer. I have to go back and help Daisy. 

       - Where’s she?

       - She’s at home. She doesn’t know I’m here, I wanted to speak with you alone.

       - How nice. - he smiled tightly. 

       - Dr. Kemp, I wanna marry Daisy. I’m gonna ask Daisy to marry me tomorrow night and I am here asking for your blessing.

Steve’s mouth couldn’t have gone more agape and Y/N swore that if it hadn’t been for the fact that he didn’t want to appear weak in front of his daughter’s boyfriend, he’d probably fainted from the mere shock. In his eyes, Daisy was still his little girl begging him to buy any and every single ducky plushie she found when grocery shopping. Now, here was this boy asking for her hand in marriage. His little girl. She was too young to get married? Right? 

       - Billy, why don’t you come in? - Y/N opened the door, motioned with her head towards the living room. - I’m making some tea. Do you want some tea?

       - Can I have some whiskey? - Steve mumbled, still somewhat shocked. - Bring the whole bottle. 

       - Sure. - she kissed the top of his head before leaving the two of them in the living room. Hopefully, he wouldn’t kill the poor boy. 

       - I have bought the ring and I have the reservation. I am gonna propose to her because I love her very much. She’s the love of my life, she’s been the love of my life since I first spoke to her. Honestly, I know you don’t like me and I don’t like your very much either but Daisy adores you and it would make her very happy if you gave your blessing. I am here asking for it but I don’t need it. 

       - That’s ... - he swallowed in empty. - That’s bold of you to say, William.

       - I’m gonna marry her if she accepts and I don’t want to create a wedge between her and you because you refuse to accept or wedding invitation. I know how important it is for her to have your approval. 

        - You’re awfully confident that she’s going to accept. 

        - We’ve discussed marriage before and children and partnership. We have the same life goals and I have a stable job lined up. Both our names are on the apartment lease if anything happened and I ... I just really want your blessing, Dr. Kemp. You can hate me all you want but I love Daisy. I wanna make her happy.

        - Can you give me a second? 

He exited the living room, finding his wife not so secretly listening in to the conversation. Yet again, if she wanted she could always listen to the security cameras. She gave him an unreadable look, one which he couldn’t decipher even after 25 years of marriage. It was always a mix of both sincereness and threat - something he believed only his dear wife could pull so effortlessly. 

      - Steve. 

      - I have to say yes, don’t I?

      - I don’t think he’s asking, darling. I think he’s saying he wants your blessing because of Daisy. You know ... the daughter we love so much?

      - It’s just ... remember when all she wanted and made her happy was to have duck stuff and be with us? What happened?

      - She grew up. - she cupped his face. - They all do, eventually. All we can do now is make sure she’s happy with someone who’d do everything to make her happy. I know you don’t like Billy, but he loves Daisy. You love Daisy. Can that be your common ground? 

      - Fine. - he sighed, turning back around.

He knew she was right, of course she was right, and even though he disliked and would dislike every single person one of his babies brought home - William wasn’t the worse of them. He was brash but he loved Daisy. Steve just didn’t want to let go, not yet, so he just stared at the photos in the wall for a bit. Her first day of kindergarten, the first Halloween, graduation day. 

      - William, you have my blessing.

      - Really?

      - Yes, really. Now go, before I change my mind. - he pointed at the door. 

      - Thank you. It’s means a lot to me and Daisy. 

      - This better not be a shotgun wedding. 

      - It’s not.

      - If I found out you impregnated my child and this is a shotgun wedding, I will haunt you myself with a shotgun. 

      - Regular wedding, no babies. 

      - And tell Daisy to come visit me before I die. 

      - Will do, Dr. Kemp. 

He sighed once more as the door shut, only being comforted by his wife who wrapped his arms around him. 

      - Do you want that bottle of whiskey now?

      - Yes, please. 

[infiinitys]

DEBORAH ANN WOLL. SHE/HER / have you ever heard of GOLD DUST WOMAN by fleetwood mac, well, it describes THEODOSIA “THEO” DONOVAN to a tee! the forty year old, and OWNER OF BADGER AND BOAR PUB was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say SHE is more ruthless or more SELF-CONFIDENT instead? anyway, they remind me of moonlight hitting an empty whiskey bottle in the center of the living room accompanied by a half-empty glass, being used to being the disappointment, scratches of ware along a well-loved motorbike & lipstick-stained cigarette butts, maybe you’ll bump into them soon!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙶𝙶𝙴𝚁 𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 : prison, criminal activity, drugs

 𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘

Theodosia Abigail Donovan was born into a very heavily Irish family, but she hails originally from Brooklyn, New York. Her mother put everything she had into relocating to the United States from Ireland following the realization that she was pregnant.

The choice didn't really lead to many signs, if any at all, of the American Dream. Her mother got a job as a manager at a strip club, but it was barely enough to put food on the table.

She loses her job after a patron managed to say the right words to get the owner of the place to let her go. The reality? She wouldn't sleep with him.

Theo barely completes her high school degree, spending most of her nights working closing shifts at a convenience store down the street from her apartment. It's a small amount of money, but it's enough to put food on the table. Her mother certainly hasn't made any effort in that regard, spiraling due to the loss of her job.

Theodosia feels proud to be able to take some of the pressure off her mother during this time, but everything changes when she transfers to another convenience store with better pay.

The store itself is a cover for a local gang. Lured in by the thought of a better life for both herself and her mother, Theo began selling drugs. The checks continued to come in, her life continued to improve. Maybe not necessarily in quality, but things were significantly more secure.

It's soon she realizes what shes done, wanting out as a way to fix her mistakes from her own greed. However, she only found herself getting in deeper.

An out finally did come in the form of a five year prison sentence, where she spent the entire time fearing her prospects. What was going to happen when she finally got out of there? Would she have to go back there, back to them?

The answer to the second question was no, able to cut ties rather easily from the group that held her for so long. She bought a motorcycle that had seen quite a bit of ware, packed up everything of importance and began traveling across the country.

The details to how she ended up in Notting Hill with a bit hazy, going there for a quiet, fresh start following some time in her mother's hometown.

She initially picked up a job at the Badger and Boar as a way to simply put food on the table -- but the staff soon became her family. The owner at the time saw the spunky Theo as the daughter he never had, caring for her so deeply that he left her the deed following his passing.

It was something she had never seen coming, but she decided to make the best of it. Theo cleaned up the place and made it somewhere where everyone can feel at home. Thus, we have the Badger and Boar the town has come to know and love.

  𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

A whiskey girl, through and through.

Dotes on her records and her record player. If she isn't at the Pub, at another one of the bars having a drink ( or many ) or at her home, she's at Right Round picking up her latest find.

Has two dogs: a King Charles Spaniel named Benny and a Black Lab named Tucker.

Has a motorcycle she's named Oscar.

Lives a very solitary life, simply because it's easier that way. No one for her to be too much for, just like everyone else in her life has proven to her.

What she doesn't know is that the father who abandoned her before she was born has since raised a family of his own and left a child behind following his death. That child has since made an effort to move to Notting Hill for a chance to reconnect with their long lost sister.

more to come.

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒

Playlist.

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Wreckless - Bats, balls and cages

*Warning Adult Content*

Finnegan

After breakfast, Emmett scrounges through his closet for a baseball glove and then calls Andy. We stop by his place on the way to mine and somehow, some way, I am appropriately dressed and fitted out for baseball when we get to the batting cages. It's loud, the balls smashing against the fence but all I can see are...

"Go-carts."

"Hell, if you're that excited we can definitely drive a few rounds, Finnegan. Now or afterwards?"

"After, don't want to get tired."

I'm feeling much better today but I know my energy will run out before the day does. We find an out of the way bit of grass and he shows me how to put on the glove and how to hold it to catch. When he asks if I'm ready, I expect him to dart back fifty feet but he only goes about six and underhand tosses the ball to me.

"Anyone can catch that, Emmett."

"Fine."

He does one overhand, then backs up to about ten feet. Okay, now it's harder and I actually have to think. I have to remember to turn my wrist and scoop to catch low. We work for about half an hour and he tries, mostly in vain, to teach me to throw a decent... uh, pass? A ball, to throw a ball. We end up maybe twenty feet apart and he's smiling and I've actually caught some and am super proud of myself.

"Okay darling, let's go hit some balls."

That part looks much, much scarier. I sort of follow him into a huge cage and give a stink-eye to the scary looking contraption sitting near the back.

"I'm going to die," I whine.

"No you won't, just stay out of the ball's way. I'm gonna put it as slow as it'll go but I have to tell you that this just takes practice. Most people start with a t-ball stand and their dad throwing low passes but there's no room here for me to toss to you so baptism by fire, babe. Don't feel bad if you miss them, okay?"

"Okay."

He makes me put on a ridiculous, uncomfortable helmet and then spends five minutes showing me how to hold the bat and how to stand. I like that part because it involves him being right up against me. He's a very hands-on teacher. I miss the first twenty balls and demand a break.

"I wanna see you hit some."

We swap places, me outside the cage on the bench and I watch as he adjusts the machine and then hits seventeen of the stupid things. Hard... really hard... like damn he has nice arms and shoulders hard. Like he's trying to kill them hard... like he's a sexy beast hard. When he opens the gate, he's sweating.

"Come try a few more if you're not too tired."

"Fine but that's it, after this I want an ice cream and to ride go-carts."

My God I sound ridiculous but Emmett just laughs.

"Deal. Hit one and you can have two scoops."

I didn't realize I was in a life-and-death battle for ice cream. Now it's serious... after the first ten I want to give up. It's impossible and I look like a buffoon and I will never, ever hit one of these things. They're going two hundred miles per hour and my bat is about a quarter of an inch thick. It's like trying to catch flies with chopsticks. Then, somehow, I hit one... the bat recoils and I barely hold onto it. Of course the ball goes straight up in the air but...

"That counts."

"Absolutely, Finnnegan. Congrats. I won't even make you try the rest if you don't want to."

Oh no, now it's war... I'm not giving up. I fail and make absolutely no contact with the rest of the balls but I earned my double scoop so I'm happy enough. We have to wait in a very long line but eventually I have a scoop of strawberry and one of chocolate chip. Emmett is boring and has gone all chocolate. We find a bench under a tree and sit and I watch some of the other batters.

"So how fast does a pitcher throw, in real games?"

"Depends on the pitch, fast balls can break one hundred but usually they're in the nineties."

"No."

"Yeah, they also have pitches that break or curve, so they don't go in a straight line. Makes them much harder to hit. You'll see lots tomorrow if you want to come."

I'm looking forward to it, especially now that I know how hard it is and what's involved.

"It sounds like fun."

"Good. This is totally not the place to bring this up but Finnegan, as amazing as this morning was, is it something we should talk about?"

Is he really asking me to think and talk about a blowjob while he's licking an ice cream cone?

"I'm not sure what to say. I just wanted to. Last night you were really sweet to me and I woke up horny and I guess I just wanted to. I don't know, I don't usually let guys push me around."

"I sort of got that impression last week. I don't mind you taking charge, Finnegan or giving it up but... I don't know what I'm trying to say."

"Consider it payback for letting me, well, be me last night. You deserve it."

"No, I don't need or want payback for just, well whatever. I don't mind it. You didn't owe me, Finnegan."

"I know, I just wanted to, okay? I can fuck you later if you want to even things up or something." 

I'm only mostly kidding.

"I'd be fine with that but that's not what I'm getting at. Look, I just want to make sure you're okay, that's all."

Okay, I need to be less defensive. He's just being sweet.

"I'm really okay. If I wanted to do it again, would that be a problem?"

I look around and make sure no one's nearby.

"Should I really try to resist wanting to be face-fucked?"

Emmett gasps.

"Jesus, um no. I mean it's fine. Would be fine. I wasn't kidding when I said you could do it every morning."

"Then maybe I will," I answer, getting up.

The idea was more than a little bit appealing, honestly. I wasn't kidding, I've never let a guy treat me like that but this morning, wearing my cute undies and waking up in his bed, it just fit. It felt right and it felt awesome. Okay, maybe sitting down would be better... damn.

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 88

A Scandal in Belgravia

“A Scandal in Belgravia”

Plot Description: Sherlock must confiscate something of importance from a mysterious woman named Irene Adler

I can’t believe it’s time for another Sherlock episode. Can’t tell you how much I wish no months ended on a Friday this year, but here we are. I’m starting at about 8pm. Let’s see what time it gets posted.

(I might come back to this tomorrow for a round two because I didn’t realize there were commentary tracks…….I will not subject you to my commentary on the commentary…unless??)

It’s been 31 days since Sherlock pointed that gun at the explosives.

I had Stayin Alive as my ringtone for the LONGEST TIME because of this

I love their politeness. Like, we’re truly in a life and death situation complete with guns and explosives and you’re apologizing because you had to take this phone call…*I* don’t even get that courtesy at work

I’m not proud of the noise I made when Jim yelled and said “and know that if you’re lying to me, I will find you, and I will sssskin you.”

*keysmash that is absolutely impossible on my phone* “if you have what you say you have, I will make you rich. If you don’t, I’ll make you into shoes.” It’s still VERY effective

OH OH OHHH!!! This is the episode I got my blog title from. We get this merry go round of cases too dull for Sherlock to take on til these kids tell him of how the comics they’ve been dissecting on their website have been coming to life, John starts writing about the case,

Sherlock: the geek interpreter, what’s that?

John: it’s the title

Sherlock: what’s it need a title for?

And that became my blog title because I could not come up with one and it was 2012, so Sherlock was on my mind big time

Johnnnn, you hurt his feelings…

My brain keeps the DUMBEST pieces of information for YEARS AND YEARS but can barely remember where I put my keys at any given moment. Tell me why I remembered that it was 243 types of tobacco ash Sherlock talks about on HIS blog

Yayyy!! The deerstalker hat!!

I shan’t say what else I’ve stolen from this episode

I definitely forgot about this plot line, the guy whose car backfired and the guy he saw on the riverbank was dead

I’m…having thoughts about that post that went around about the lesbian with eczema and whether Sherlock could deduce that. And I think it really does boil down to whether or not he knows literally anything about women (which is highly unlikely as he’s being written by Steven Moffat). We know he knows what underwear is popular with gay men and what the right sleeve of an “internet porn addict” looks like but those were both dudes…

Mycroft!!! (I knew he was gonna show up but I still get excited to see him, I have related to him so much)

No because for real, and I mean this in an annoyed way not any other way, he’s such a fucking brat. Sherlock, that is. You can deduce the cause of death of the riverbank guy in five minutes without even BEING there but you’re going to throw a hissy fit over not knowing EXACTLY which member of the royal family is employing you as you stand in buckingham palace??

I do adore Mycroft telling John that he of course doesn’t trust his own secret service, they all spy on people for money

Irene’s got a high end “rich widow robe”

“I always hear ‘punch me in the face’ when you’re speaking but it’s usually subtext”

Sherlock’s brain short circuiting after Irene says brainy is the new sexy will always be funny

Maybe it’s me but if someone changed my text notification to that, even if just for them, I’d be (at best) annoyed. Hey…does Sherlock not know how to put his phone on silent? I know he has trouble with some ordinary things because he deleted them from his mind palace

Not everyone ganging up on Mycroft 😑

Oh my…there is…something very relatable about how annoyed Sherlock is about the small talk. I…that was me today

Oof. No no noooooooooo. Poor Molly. I simply would stop liking someone if they continuously said such mean things about me in front of me barely acknowledging that I’m even there to hear it.

Does “Althea” just go pick up anyone someone pays her to? Like…she doesn’t even drive the car. She just shows up and John gets in the car…because *I* know he’s meeting Irene

I don’t like them threatening Mrs Hudson 😡 I do like John underestimating her. This IS the woman who hired Sherlock to make sure her abusive husband got locked up

How do safe deposit boxes even work in England? Can anyone with the key just go in?? Seems…UNsafe.

Man, when that one dude said that apologizing for Sherlock must be like a full time job for Mycroft, I don’t think he knew how right he was. Or how profusely Mycroft has to apologize for him…….fucked up this whole operation by wanting to show off for Irene. And Irene told Jim.

I can’t tell you how long it took me to understand what Irene meant each time she uses the word ‘had’ or ‘have’ to mean sexually…it still takes my brain adjustment time 💀💀💀

The asexuality of Sherlock Holmes is pouring out of SO MANY SCENES:

Irene: have you ever had anyone? And by had, I’m being indelicate

Sherlock: I don’t understand

Irene: oh I’ll be delicate then. Let’s have dinner

Sherlock: why?

Irene: might be hungry

Sherlock: i’m not

Irene: good

Sherlock: why would I want to have dinner if I wasn’t hungry?

Me: RIGHT?!?!?!

Sherlock’s so smug and for absolutely no reason. You fucked up, buddy

I love these little scenes between Mycroft and John.

[luv4new]

i’m sorry

changmin x f!readerㅤ|ㅤgenre: smut, a bit of fluff at the start and endㅤ|ㅤwarnings: making out, kissing, semi-public, hickeys, fingering, mentions of voyeurismㅤ|ㅤwc: 1.1kㅤ|ㅤnote: first smut posted here but i hope it's worth something lol

“how are you so terrible at this.” changmin chuckles while serving another ball towards the opposite court.

“i already told you i’m not good at sports!”

you barely manage to catch the ball at the right time to swing it on the other side. changmin easily counters it, landing the ball on an empty spot. you angrily glare at the missed ball lying on the ground, cursing it internally.

changmin has invited you to explore more hobbies out of your comfort zone and you have decided on tennis. you two scheduled a session in an open field court at a sports center during the weekend. you were never the athletic type, while he was the opposite. he said it was his first time trying the sport as well but he easily adjusted to it well and was already good at it.

you did understand the basics and rules but you know you'll never be good at it. it’s the 40th round and you haven't gone past one hit of the ball (two if you count the times you served). with every miss, you were getting more and more annoyed. your boyfriend’s smug attitude and teasing smile isn’t helping either. in his defense, he enjoys seeing you try and run through the court.

“i quit! i’m not playing anymore!” you throw the racket on the ground and walk to the bench.

“no, y/n. come on, i’ll let you win this time.”

on the opposite end of the court, changmin was smiling and you want to rip it off his face so much. he can’t help but smile because he finds you amusing when you're mad. he picks up your racket before walking towards you.

“we still have half an hour left.”

when he sat on the bench, you intentionally scooted away. your arms crossed and head locked in the opposite direction of him. changmin cannot stop smiling at how childish you are when angry. you continued scooting away every time he tried to scoot closer until you were at the end of the bench. he put his arms around you, with his head on the crook of your neck and shoulder, not letting you go away.

“baby. don’t be mad anymore. i’m sorry. please forgive me, hm?” he coos but it doesn’t seem to work. you're still ignoring him and paying attention to anything but him.

changmin needs to up his game and trick. he peppers your neck with kisses and he finally gets a reaction from you. you try to dodge his kisses but his arms hold you close.

“stop it. i’m still mad at you.” you try to push him away but his kisses were making you weak.

changmin's cute pecks were soon replaced by wet kisses and soft bites. you don't notice it but you're leaning your neck closer to him. you had to bite your lip to prevent yourself from spewing any moans. your hand clutches the material of your skirt as a way to keep you sitting stable, but changmin's arms around you were much more reliable.

“changmin...!” you gasp when you feel him bite harshly on your sweet spot. that will surely leave a mark.

“yes, baby?”

“kiss me.”

you finally face him, grabbing his collar to pull his lips to yours. changmin smirks in the kiss, proud of himself for successfully making you give in. he helps you sit comfortably on his lap, not breaking the kiss.

it was a messy kiss. salivas spread through your lips and your tongues were sloppily dancing with each other. all you could hear are the sloppy noises from your mouths and the mix of your moans whenever you grind down on his crotch.

changmin notices you glancing around the court whenever you break the kiss to catch your breath. luckily, there were no other people at the tennis court to catch you and changmin like this but the thrill of making out in a public place is also exciting for you two.

“don't worry. no one's here. if someone comes in, they can only see your back. do you want to go somewhere else?” he reassures you while caressing your face.

“no. let's finish this first.”

you put your arms around his neck and kiss him again. your fingers softly tug at his hair, making him groan in the kiss. his left hand that rested on your thigh teases the hem of your skirt, softly grazing it and massaging the soft flesh of your thigh.

“stop teasing me and just get to it already.” you take his hand and shove it under your skirt. you both moaned in the kiss when his fingers came in contact with your wet panties.

“look how excited you are.” he shoves your panties aside and runs his fingers through your folds. the wetness of your cunt immediately coats his fingers. he slides two fingers easily inside you and started moving it at a fast pace.

you break the kiss, panting hard, because of the kiss and the pleasure from his fingers. his mouth finds its place back to your neck, coating the missed side from earlier with wet kisses and bruises. his cock was painfully straining his shorts, desperate for its own pleasure, but he doesn’t mind pleasuring you first. it’s rewarding enough to know that only he can make you feel this good.

you arch your back and grind on his fingers, using it to reach your high. “f-faster. i’m close.”

changmin does as he's told, increasing the pace of his fingers. you let out a loud whine when his thumb brushes your clit. he rubs your clit while moving his fingers quickly in and out of you. the immense pleasure from his fingers and tongue was all too much for you. you grip his arms tightly for support as you release on his fingers. he pulls out of you and helps you adjust to rest comfortably in his arms.

“so... do you accept my apology?”

“what apology?” you look up at him confused and scoff when it hit you. “oh. yeah, whatever. i think i only like sports because i enjoy seeing you do it.”

“why?”

“because you look cool and very sexy.” changmin kisses your cheek, enjoying the flattery.

“second round in the shower?” he winks at you which makes you giggle.

“yeah, i think i deserve an apology for these.” you caress the red bruises and bite marks on your neck, cringing in pain at the contact with some of them.

“but i'm not sorry for them. they're my artwork. god, y/n, i'm gonna go crazy if i'm not inside you the next minute so i’m sorry.” the two of you look down at the straining member in his shorts.

you lean in and kiss him. “apology accepted. let’s go shower.”