#I really don’t know who I’m talking to or why

[rebelfell]

rub one out┃(for your viewing pleasure-verse)

pornstar!eddie x director!reader

a cheeky (pun intended) bit of filth based on part of my blurb series. I was trying to keep the snippets short, but this just kinda poured out of me over the past couple days.

cw: sex work, simulated adultery, oral (fem receiving)

18+, MDNI┃2.8k

Maybe this was a bad idea.

You couldn’t escape the nagging thought as you stepped outside, tightening the belt on your fluffy white bathrobe, tugging at the terrycloth tail and twisting it in your fingers. Your eyes flitted to each member of your crew, all of them in position waiting to get this show on the road.

Why were you so nervous? You’d certainly done this enough times before not to get stage fright. So why did your stomach feel more tangled than the box of electrical cords in Lenny’s truck?

Part of you almost wished it would rain, or the ground would open up and swallow you whole so you didn’t have to go through with this. But the concrete remained solid under your feet, and the sky overhead showed no signs of altering its radiant blue color. Perfect.

It’s gonna be fine, you thought in an attempt to soothe yourself. It’s all gonna be fine.

And you almost believed it would be.

Sammy, who was barely a step up from an intern, had swiftly been promoted once the plan for you to replace your no-show leading lady was set in motion. You weren’t worried about her, though—she was smart and a quick study; she knew all the shots you needed, and she had a good eye.

If you couldn’t be behind the camera yourself, she was pretty much the only one you trusted.

Well…maybe not the only one.

Eddie’s eyes met yours as soon as you stepped out of the trailer. The sunlight hit his deep brown irises, making them glow the color of rich honey. But behind the liquid gold, you could see his own nerves and it made your stomach flip, wondering what he could possibly be nervous about.

“Hey,” he said quietly as he came up next to you. “You good?”

For a moment, you considered lying. Flashing him a thumbs up or shooting him finger guns like one of those tools you used to do this with. But you knew better by now when it came to Eddie.

“Nope,” you chuckled. “I’m kinda shitting myself.”

“Well, that’s just what the guy about to fuck you wants to hear,” he chuckled back.

A real smile breaks through your tense, fake one and a genuine laugh bubbles up out of your chest. Eddie’s eyes shine when he hears it and the sight makes your chest feel all warm inside.

“No, you’re right,” you said. “I’m okay, I just…don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

His plush pink lips pressed into a straight line, his tongue poking out as he licked them. He reached out a reassuring hand and placed it on your shoulder, rubbing it through your robe.

“You’re gonna be great,” he assured, sounding a lot more certain than you felt.

Easy for him to say. He’s a fucking natural.

Even on your best day doing this, you never felt like you were great at it—competent, sure. Maybe even above average. But not great. Not at all the way you felt since getting behind the camera.

You nodded tightly, your hesitation still written all over your face. His eyes scanned over you and he swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing. He then leaned in and placed his lips beside your ear.

“You look…really beautiful,” he said.

His warm breath rushed across your neck, the heat coming off his skin making your ears buzz. An explosion of fluttering began in your stomach, like there were butterfly cocoons in your cereal that morning and now they were all hatching.

“We should get moving,” you said, pulling back. “Burning daylight.”

Eddie straightened. He nodded and you nodded back, sliding past him to do final checks before you started rolling. Telling yourself he must have pumped or popped a Viagra to explain away that bulge in his pants that definitely wasn’t there before he came over to talk to you.

The nerves didn’t disappear once you started working, but your body and brain did snap into a kind of performance mode you remembered well.

You started with some still photography for the VHS box art—shots of you in progressing states of undress, your robe dropping off your shoulder, Eddie pulling it open to reveal your body, his hand running up your thigh in a slow caress.

He let it trail all the way up your stomach and chest until he curled his finger under your chin and tipped your face toward his, letting his lips hover just inches away from yours. Your eyes fluttered closed and your heart raced, thinking he might close the gap and actually kiss you—

But after the shutter snapped, he simply let his hand drop and backed away. 

The loss of his body heat sent a chill down your spine and you shivered despite the blazing sun overhead. Eddie’s eyes caught yours, the nearly imperceptible lift of his brow asking, ‘you okay?’ You nodded and another shiver skittered across your skin as you pulled your robe back up.

For the next shot, you climbed up on the massage table and he got into position behind you. His body pressed yours down, your back arching under him as he dipped his head low to take the lobe of your ear between his teeth, palming your exposed breast with his large, strong hand. 

You let your mouth hang open, not even needing to fake the look of desperation on your face. And let yourself believe Eddie’s excitement you could feel digging into the fat of your ass was real too. The little grunts and whines he let out when you wriggled against him certainly didn’t sound fake.

After the photos, there was nothing left to do but move on to the main event. 

You and Eddie reset—him standing in frame, you just outside of it. Sammy panned the camera around, establishing the setting, zooming in on the fountain feature in the pool and then coming around to film Eddie as he snapped a fresh towel and laid it out on the massage table.

From your spot off-camera, it’s impossible not to be mesmerized by the sight. Biceps rippling, tendons in his arms flexing as he smoothed the towel flat. His tattoos stood out even more than normal with him in white slacks and a white polo meant to give the impression of him being an employee of the resort. And the little twist your hair and make-up girl Jael did is something new that only further accentuates the thick column of his neck and his angular jaw.

He’d left off his rings and bracelets, as was typical when he was filming, and you couldn’t help but think about that day in the editing suite. When he’d touched your knee, and you felt the silver ridges press into your flesh. It had jarred you somewhat, how right it felt to have his hand there and how you’d nearly leaned in to meet his lips when you saw his face getting closer.

You hadn’t kissed him that day—promptly removing yourself from temptation in an attempt to salvage some shred of your professionalism. And you (mostly) felt good about that decision. It would have been reckless and destructive and your entire working relationship might have been compromised. You’d made the right call that day, you were sure of it. Mostly…

But today was different. Today, it wasn’t going to derail your career. If anything, your career was mandating you give in to those urges that had plagued you so relentlessly. And that was when it hit you all at once—the realization about as subtle as a train crashing through a wall.

You were going to fuck Eddie.

You’re going to feel firsthand what it’s like to have his face and cock buried between your legs; what it’s like to suck on his fingers and soak them with your spit before he presses them to your clit; what he sounds like when he comes all over your stomach or tits (you can’t quite recall what the script specifies, you just know it’s meant to be outside so he can dotingly clean you up after). 

The barrage of thoughts that storm through your mind are so consuming, you nearly miss your cue to enter the scene. But once you do, you’re rather grateful for the distraction of the set-up dialogue:

“It’ll just be me, today. My husband has a meeting he couldn’t get out of.”

“No, no, it’s not his fault. I got it as a surprise for our anniversary—I should have known better than to book it without checking his schedule.”

“I’m afraid I never know how much to take off for a massage…what do you suggest?”

Eddie answered your last question with a smooth, “Whatever makes you most comfortable,” and a smile so warm it would melt the ice caps.

Giving him a smile of your own, you slowly pulled at the tie of your robe. It fell to the ground in a heap at your feet and Eddie’s dark eyes roved over you hungrily. Now revealed to be completely naked, you feigned some degree of shyness: ducking your head low, looking up at him from underneath your lashes, brushing your hand over your stomach as though to hide it while really drawing his eyes to its plush softness.

“Is this alright?” you asked him with a coy smirk. Eddie grinned, still drinking you in.

“Absolutely,” he breathed. And the raptness in his eyes almost had you believing him.

You took your time getting up on the table, propping yourself up on all fours, letting him (and the camera) take a good, long look at the fullness of your hips before you settled in place. Arms at your side, you took a deep breath as you laid flat on your stomach, relieved there wouldn’t be much dialogue needed for this next part.

Through the little donut headrest at the end of the table, you saw Sammy’s feet as she moved in close—filming tight on Eddie’s hands while he pumped massage oil onto them and warmed it by spreading it between his palms.

Your chest tightened, nerves coiling in your stomach as you anticipated his touch, forcing your body to keep still so you didn’t pull focus.

He smoothed some oil over your skin, starting at the ankles and thoroughly coating your calves. The smell of clary sage filled the air, earthy and warm. And underneath it, a clean and woodsy scent you recognized as Eddie’s soap wafted up to your nose when he leaned in closer.

His fingertips began to knead your muscles, slipping and sliding easily over your skin that was slick with the oil. He made tiny circles with his thumbs, alternating back and forth as they moved in a steady pattern up your calf.

Oh, that’s right…

In all the hubbub, you’d forgotten the whole concept for this shoot was borne on the fact that Eddie went to massage school for real. He’d told you before, after he left his hometown (shit, what was it again? Hawk-something…) that he started collecting different jobs like merit badges.

Just bounced from thing to thing, trying his hand (sometimes both) at whatever life presented. And that included porn. He’d said he only auditioned for that first film he did because someone he’d slept with a handful of times knew a casting director and suggested he’d be good at it.

“He certainly had the dick for it” were her exact words, if you recalled. Strange to think in a way, you might owe that girl your career.

Through the pleasurable haze your mind dipped into having Eddie’s capable hands erasing every ounce of stress you carried in your muscles, you realized he was moving the scene right along while you just lay there humming and moaning with relief at his practiced touch.

He’d lowered his voice to that deep, rumbly register he always used when he was building towards the next phase. His DM voice, as he so affectionately dubbed it. Rough and gravely, yet even and tempered, guiding both you and the audience along on the journey of this fuck.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying…but your husband’s a jackass for missings out on this.”

Your heartbeat picked up in your chest as he moved to your thighs. His fingertips dug into your flesh, kneading it like dough, letting his thumbs swerve dangerously close to your center.

“You deserve someone who puts you first…who knows what he has and worships you…”

One of his thumbs swiped briefly over your puffy lips, and you knew he felt how wet you were.

“You know, I’d never let you out of my sight if you were mine…”

His words dripped slowly and intentionally past his lips, his hands creeping higher and higher up your legs. At last, they slid over the globes of your ass and he groaned as he squeezed one in each hand, spreading you apart to see your center, soaked with arousal that had been pooling there, truth be told, from the moment Eddie had told you how beautiful you looked. 

You heard Eddie’s next line in your head before he said it, “If you really want to relax, I can try a very special technique. I don’t do it for just anyone. It’s a little bit…unorthodox…”

And you were more than ready to take him up on his offer once he delivered the line. 

But Eddie went off script.

Instead of hearing words, you felt the wet heat of his tongue glide through your folds as he buried his face between your spread ass cheeks. Your head popped out of the headrest, letting out a breathy moan of surprise and delight.

The shock on your face was evident as Sammy pushed in close to capture your expression, but so was your pure and utter elation. You’d never felt anything so good in your life…

And it seemed you weren’t the only one.

Eddie groaned loudly as he lapped messily at your folds, his spit mixing with your slick that covered the bottom half of his face. And it was only after a few blissful seconds of eager licking that he even realize what he’d done.

“I’m—mmph—sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—” He panted out in between sinful swirls of his tongue, his he words muffled by your ass cheeks because he couldn’t stand to pull away even a little, even long enough to speak. “I had to taste you…”

”It’s okay,” you answered, voice already wrecked beyond belief. “It’s okay, just keep going—”

The command is directed at him as much as it is the crew, who only panicked slightly. Eddie never did stuff like this and they just weren’t ready.

They got back on track quickly enough, Sammy signaling the boom mic to get as close as he can without dipping into frame in order to pick up every lurid slurp and suck of Eddie’s mouth.

After no more than a few minutes, the fluffy towel under you was bunched in your fists and your hips squirmed as Eddie continued to eat you out like a mad man. His tight grip on your ass cheeks held fast, spreading you wider still so his tongue could probe deeper. The sounds he pulled out of you didn’t even sound human to your ears, let alone recognizable as your own voice. 

But you didn’t care.

However you sounded, however you looked, it was superfluous to what Eddie was doing and the precipice he brought you to. Your orgasm hit harder than any drug, than any physical blow. It had you shaking uncontrollably, reaching back to grip the hair at the crown of his head as your hips pushed back to meet every thrust of his tongue while you rode out your exceptional high.

You felt its tingling sensation spread to every inconsequential inch of your body, like an ocean of fire that crashed over you in wave after wave of scorching pleasure. Drowning you in it.

When you finally found the strength in your limp limbs to roll over onto your back, Eddie’s eyes were waiting to meet yours. You could see on his face how sorry he was, how worried he was he’d fucked up. And you tried to communicate with him in that mind-melding, wordless sort of way you and he always did that it was fine—that people were going to love it.

Cocking your brow at him, dipping into a more salacious tone to really sell the transformation from demure housewife to lusty adulterer, you threw in a little adlib of your own.

“That’s some technique you’ve got there,” you teased him, propping yourself up on your elbows. “My husband’s certainly never done that before.”

Eddie’s sly smile returned, his lips curling as he reached out to grip your waist. He hauled you closer with one jerk, bringing you to the edge of the table so your hips were flush with his. The bulge in his white pants was harder than ever when it pressed against your cunt, and he grinned wickedly when he felt just how ready you were for more. He yanked up the shirttail of his polo and whipped it off his body, tossing it behind him where it landed half in the pool.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he tutted softly, “you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Tysm for reading! 🛸 comments and reblogs keep your skin clear and your crops watered 🫶🏻

[darnell-la]

I can't stop thinking about how Logan would be like "yeah those boys are not enough for you you need a man like me to take care of you" pleeeese do a story based on that <3 Love you guys works btw

note: Logan Howlett is an eater.

———

Logan had originally come to y/n’s apartment to drop off dinner. Wade had told him she hadn’t been eating proper food because of her study hours, so he cooked and packed it, ready to foul her up.

When he arrived, he heard noises from the young woman’s room. Two voice. Hers and someone else’s. A man’s. A boy.

He held himself together, understanding that she was young and experimenting. At least she better be. She shouldn’t be dating right now. He won’t allow it.

The man went to turn around and leave, maybe come back in an hour, but he heard a moan. Her moan. “Fuck no,” the man said, changing his mind about experimenting after he heard her with another man.

“Y/n!” The man knocked on the door hard, making the two jump in the bed. “Fuck, that’s Logan — M-My friend’s friend. My friend. J-Just get dressed,” y/n got up quick as well as the boy.

“Goddamnit,” he cussed, angry that he didn’t get to finish after touching y/n for the longest to get her wet. “Can you just like shoo him away or somethin? I’m fucking hard,” the boy said.

“I can’t, he’s like family. And he wouldn’t leave anyway,” she said, making the boy roll her eyes. “Get him outta here or I ain’t comin’ back,” the boy said, making her roll her eyes, but she was also horny now. She needed something.

Y/n cracked the door, hoping to talk with Logan for a quick second before sending him off, but he pushed open the door, causing Y/n to fall back.

“You ain’t comin’ back. Get the fuck out,” Logan snapped at the boy. His attitude was unacceptable. Even his appearance in her room was unacceptable.

“Dude, get out of here — We just got-“ Before he could say anything, Logan grabbed the boy by his collar and pulled him out of her room. “Don’t come back, or you’ll regret it,”

Logan shut the door and then turned to look at y/n who was embarrassed. “Logan, I-“ she went to say but he cut her off. “You what? Fuck boys during your study time?”

“What!? No, I- I mean — Logan, why are you here?” She asked, trying to switch the conversation which made him chuckle. “To give you dinner that you never have time to eat. Now I see why,”

Y/n felt bad. Now Logan knew she didn’t show up on Friday nights because she was fucking some random boy.

“You ditch family for a boy that can’t respect you? Let alone, properly make you wet!?” The man asked, shocking y/n. “H-He does make me wet,” y/n said, not knowing why she would tell Logan that. She just felt defensive.

“Oh, really? You know I can smell ya, Bub. Right?” Logan asked the young lady as he placed her dinner down on a desk before walking towards her. “And you’re already all dried up,”

“Logan that’s- That’s very inappropriate,” she said as she backed up, the back of her legs hitting her bed. “Is it? Then I must be a nasty son of a bitch, because I smell for you every time I’m around you,”

Y/n didn’t know how that got her on her bed, spread open for him, but she was, legs spread and cunt leaking as he stuffed his face in between her legs.

“So fuckin’ tasty. Gotta lick that son of a bitch off of you,” Logan groaned onto her heat as her hands tangled in his hair. “Oh god, Logan,” y/n threw her head back as her bud swole.

“Sweetest pussy that lives, baby. So fuckin’ good,” Logan couldn’t stop eating at her. He lifted a hand up and used two fingers to push at her entrance until he could curl in the right spot.

“F-Fuck,” y/n cried, making him lean back to watch her as he finger fucked her cunt. “You like that?” Logan asked as she nodded, head still leaned back and eyes closed.

“Yeah? Gonna start callin’ me instead of the boys?” He asked her, making her nod quickly. “Yeah, these boys aren’t enough for you. You need a man like me to take care of you,”

Y/n whined as she grinned at his fingers, chasing her orgasm. She was close, and he had just started. He was definitely better than any boy she’d been with. He was even better than herself.

“Give it to me, baby — Cum on my face — Need my face drenched,” the man looked into the girl's eyes and began to cross and roll back.

“C’mon, baby, give it to me — Give it to your man,” Logan kitty licked her bud to give her a better sensation that Wii jot sent her over the edge with a loud moan.

Logan latched his lips around her lips as he continued fingering her, humming into her cunt to get this amazing feeling in.

She tried to push the man off and close her legs, but he kept slapping her hands away and speeding her legs further with his free hand.

“G-God, Logan,” y/n cried out, feeling a bit embarrassed, and he felt it. He slightly loved the idea of her being shy from now on. The animal in him loved the look of a deer in headlights.

[flawseer]

In your last ask, you mentioned misgivings with Book 10's ending, and especially how it pertains to Winter. I absolutely agree, and I know why, but I wanna hear your thoughts on it, too: What's up with Book 10?

The following is a (very long) examination of my personal feelings with regards to the WoF second story arc finale. While it is based on what is in the text, this analysis will be interpretive and fill in blanks with my own thoughts. Keep that in mind.

Hahhhh... okay. Since mentioning it in my last post I’ve gotten several requests to talk about my feelings regarding the second arc finale. There’s probably no way around it then.

If you haven’t read that last post (it was admittedly very long, and so will this one be), I talked briefly about why I didn’t like that part of the story. I have to warn you now, this will likely be the most negative and dour post in the history of this blog. In a few parts it will sound like I hate Wings of Fire, and I want to say now, while I still have the chance, that I don’t. I love this series, thinking about its setting and characters brings me joy.

I also—very emphatically—want to make it clear that I have no ill will against Tui T. Sutherland. I’ve looked around other people’s stuff a bit and there are a huge number of posts wishing violence upon her or threatening her for doing things to her series that people don’t agree with. That is NOT what I am doing here, shit like that is NOT okay! While I will be critical of her choices, I still respect her effort of bringing this vibrant, wonderful world of dragons to all of us.

Also, obligatory last disclaimer: If you liked the finale, that is okay. You are valid for feeling that way. I’m here to share my point of view, not to demand people agree with everything I say. Just be warned that you most likely won’t enjoy what I have to say. If you don’t think you can handle that kind of criticism, this is your guilt-free opportunity to stop reading.

Otherwise, let's get into it.

CW: Discussion of parental abuse, depression, disease, and extreme acts of violence.

In defense of the finale

Before I start to systematically disassemble this narrative and get lost in a quagmire of negativity, let’s talk a bit about the circumstances that brought forth this part of the story. The plot of this arc was a mess from the moment animus magic was unshackled from the restrictions it had in the first arc, and from then on there was no longer any conceivable way to end this story in a clean way. Sutherland had created an invincible, unbeatable, omnipotent villain; he could read minds, see the future with perfect clarity, and anything he could imagine he could conjure into existence at any time with no cost to himself and no drawbacks. She was likely wracking her brain about how to resolve this impossible conundrum. What we got wasn’t good, but I believe nothing could have been. The foundation was rotting and by the fifth book it couldn’t bear the weight of the plot anymore.

The thing about animus magic in arc 2 is that it is so potent, so all-powerful, and so free of restraint that everyone who uses it also HAS to be a simpleton, or they would be able to break the plot immediately and become god. From the moment Darkstalker broke out of that mountain, he could have said “Any and all spells that are cast with the intention to harm me, interfere with my plans, or do something I don’t consent to will not work, from now on until forever”, and he would have instantly won. The strawberry would have fizzled out. The Darkstalker-blocking earrings would not have been created, and no one could have saved the Icewings. On the flipside, Turtle or Anemone could have said “I enchant the concept of animus magic itself to no longer obey Darkstalker”, and his threat would have been neutered. Point is, powers as potent and easy to use as this really need limitations, or they will quickly eat your plot alive.

I don’t envy the situation Sutherland was in at the time at all. If you’re an author, that kind of thing is a nightmare. It really is no wonder she decided to blow up animus magic for good in her next arc, even if I would have preferred it to get more healthy restrictions instead of killing it outright.

The Darkstalker age regression thing

Everyone has talked this part to death already, but if I am to write a thorough analysis of my feelings regarding this finale, I’m going to have to talk about it as well. I’m sorry if I end up repeating a lot of things you’ve already heard.

This final fate of Darkstalker, to have his memories wiped and be reset to an infant, is really uncomfortable. As far as I am aware, though correct me if I’m wrong, Sutherland said in an interview that she didn’t want Darkstalker to die because, in her view, he did not deserve to. We can debate here about the philosophical question of whether anyone is truly deserving of death, and the merits of “justice” and “punishment”, but in general, Wings of Fire did not seem to have any issues killing off its villains prior if they committed suitably terrible acts. That makes this moment stand out as noteworthy.

Who is Darkstalker then--and if we assume villains can be “deserving” and “not deserving” of death--what about him speaks in his favor, or against? The guy had a pretty crappy childhood, coming from a broken home (there is that inadequate parent theme again). He genuinely loved his sister and felt protective of her, and whenever he liked someone he wanted them to be happy and feel affirmed. The thing that Queen Diamond does to his mother is awful and he is justified in hating her for it. He is also portrayed as rather sympathetic in Moon Rising. When he asks Moon to find his scroll for him and not to leave him, he is not manipulating her, he is sincerely begging for her help. He is stuck somewhere underground, trapped in darkness, in a space so tiny that he can’t move. He remains that way for months, lonely and sad. If you just focus on these aspects, it’s easy to understand why he has so many fans who want him to see healthy and happy.

On the flipside, while he is dedicated to the happiness of his friends, he doesn’t always go for the most ethical way to achieve it. He tries to brainwash said friends without their consent whenever they exhibit behaviors he doesn’t like, or when he thinks he knows better and wants to “fix” them. He has very little regard for other people’s autonomy, lies to his loved ones with alarming frequency, and is unhealthily attached to the idea of power. Those things are certainly not good, but they are his character flaws. These are his demons; everyone has them and they make him a person. If this was all there was to it, he might still be a villain, but I’d argue he’d not be wholly irredeemable.

But there are things about him that take him beyond the pale. Things that go beyond the realm of just being misunderstood, or easily excusable.

He is possessive. He wants Clearsight and Fathom for himself, and for them to listen to him primarily. When Indigo makes it clear she doesn’t like him and cautions Fathom against trusting him, he deceives his friends and traps Indigo in a wood carving, just so he can isolate Fathom from his support network and manipulate him easier. He alters Clearsight’s mind to make her more agreeable and stop her from holding him accountable for his actions; while he thinks he loves her, he only loves an idealized version of her that is wholly devoted to and unquestioning of him. This is why, when he later forcibly overwrites Fierceteeth’s existence to recreate her (which is another horrific thing), he tries to excise the parts he finds undesirable to create a perfect version of his lover. But this caricature he has created in his head is not and can never be Clearsight, which frustrates his attempts.

He is vengeful. Not against people who have actually wronged him, like Queen Diamond. That would be questionable, but understandable. What makes this unacceptable is his frequent targeting of innocent people who just happen to be related to the person who wronged him in some esoteric way. He enchants a secret murder knife that kills random Icewings regardless of who they are or what they think about the Queen, just because the one who took his mother from him happened to share their tribe. He hates Turtle and wishes death upon him in Moon Rising just because he is a green Seawing, like Fathom was. And then there is the big one: He tries to kill all the Icewings who are alive in the present day, where Queen Diamond is long dead and none of them have ever even met her. Even his mother, who suffered from Diamond’s actions the most and has the most reason to hate her, is horrified and calls him out on that one.

And lastly, he is sadistic. He revels in torturing those he hates. He forces his father to disembowel himself, while the latter is fully aware and powerless to resist AND the man’s traumatized daughter is watching. Later he sends a magical plague to kill every single living Icewing sans one.

It should be noted that Darkstalker possesses virtually infinite magical power; whatever he declares, with very few exceptions, will happen. Even if he wanted them dead, he had the power to prevent unnecessary suffering. He could have said “Arctic, fall dead instantaneously”, or “Every Icewing will fall asleep and pass away peacefully,” but he didn’t. He wanted them to feel pain and pass away in the most wretched, agonizing ways he could imagine.

So what he chose to do instead is—and I want you to picture this for a moment—Darkstalker sat down, calmly, and said “Henceforth every living Icewing, excepting Prince Winter and those of hybrid blood, will fall ill with an incurable disease. This disease will cause heavy internal bleeding and make its victims cough up blood and waste away for a few days, followed by certain death.”

This spell does not discriminate with regards to who its victims are. The book glosses over the implications, but imagine the ramifications. Young children are notoriously frail, how many newborns got infected and died because of this? How many families were torn apart because they couldn’t get the magic earrings fast enough? Or accidentally got one earring less than there were family members and had to decide who has to die?

Most of the Icewings were physically cured by the earrings, but an experience like that sticks with you for the rest of your life. Somewhere surely, a dragonet watched as his mother put the earring on him and then slowly wasted away because she didn’t have one for herself.

It’s really easy to overlook how horrific this spell is because it isn’t shown or dwelt on. But the trauma, grief, and suffering it caused must have been immeasurable.

And none of those victims have ever even met the person Darkstalker wanted to get revenge on. None of those deaths meant anything to anyone.

The attempted death toll and scale of the calamity here puts even Scarlet to shame. The ones who come closest to it were Queen Battlewinner and Morrowseer with their attempted Rainwing extermination. All three of those died for what they did. Gives you some food for thought for sure.

Peacemaker’s burden

Despite just airing all of his dirty laundry and declaring him an irredeemable villain, I actually do have a lot of sympathy for Darkstalker still. His story is really sad. He was a child born with an amount of power that nobody should possess, and it corrupted him to the point where it destroyed his life before it began. His parents were always fighting and no matter how good his intentions were, he was unable to understand why he couldn’t hold on to his friends and relationship. He kept making mistakes, then made bigger mistakes to fix those, until his hands were covered in blood and he couldn’t stop anymore. My belief is that, after he wakes up in the present and realizes Clearsight is dead, he loses his reason for living and becomes completely lost in his grief.

Therefore, my opinion is that it would have been appropriate for him to die. If not to punish him, then to finally grant him reprieve from all that rage and pain, and let him rest. I think that would have been a dignified end.

But instead he got turned into a baby. ... And then they decided to magically erase his father’s blood from him? I don’t know what it is, but something about that Icewing erasure makes my skin crawl?

The thing that turns this baby twist from weird into highly unsettling is the context. Darkstalker’s mind is erased, then modified into a new person via animus magic. This is the technique a lot of this arc’s villains used to victimize Hailstorm, Queen Ruby, Peril, Kinkajou, Fierceteeth, and Winter. The same technique is now used again, by the heroes, which is a dangerous thing to have your protagonists do if you want them to remain morally upright.

It is also very reckless, because in almost all of these instances, animus mind alteration has been shown to be very unreliable. The spells seem to wear down over time and are susceptible to partial breaking upon encountering certain strong stimuli. Hailstorm—while trapped as Pyrite—seems to retain trace amounts of his former memories, which is why Pyrite is subconsciously drawn to Winter and clings to him all the time. Ruby is able to ignore half of her conditioning because her familial love for her son partially overpowers the magic. Qibli is just straight up able to reason his way out of it.

The thing to note here is that spells of this nature require a very meticulous approach; you can’t half-ass your reprogramming or the victim will just think their way past it. If you alter someone’s mind, the wording of the spell must be ironclad, lest you risk it wearing down over time and even break.

Luckily we have nothing to fear in that regard, because the spell that created Peacemaker was written by a Rainwing with a total of four days of literacy training. No one better mention the name Clearsight to the new baby Nightwing, or next month is going to be rather interesting.

But that’s just speculation on my part. Let’s assume that, somehow, this spell isn’t as unstable as all the others. Somehow Kinkajou threaded all the needles, and masterfully dodged every conceivable pitfall to pen the perfect incantation, despite having been illiterate just a few weeks prior. This one is built to last and Darkstalker is sealed away really thoroughly, for good.

That is still absolutely terrible and morally dubious, because now you have Peacemaker, who for all intents and purposes is a COMPLETELY innocent little kid, saddled with this huge burden of being the certifiable reincarnation of a genocidal ancient wizard. He’s gonna grow up thinking things like “Mommy gets real quiet whenever the topic of the Icewing tragedy is brought up,” and “Why does Auntie Moon look at me like that? One time she accidentally called me a weird name, who is Darkstalker?” “What is this ‘Clearsight’ name my mind-reading friends from the village found in Mommy’s mind?”

In a village that will be full of mind-readers soon, eventually the secret will come out, and Peacemaker is going to learn what was done to him. A huge, messy load of undeserved baggage was forced onto this completely separate, innocent entity. He will be devastated. Whether he then chooses to forgive them for this remains to be seen. To be honest, he would be well within his right not to, and turn resentful.

Poor kid.

Qibli’s callousness

I love Qibli, he is one of my favorite characters. This happens to be his book, and the fact that I fundamentally dislike half of it makes me rather sad. If anything, I hope this tells you that I’m not just hating on it for my personal amusement. I really wanted to like this. I tried to, and I couldn’t.

Qibli is really weird in this one, to be honest. He is suddenly made to be co-dependent on Moonwatcher, fawning over her every third paragraph, saying how much he loves her, how he is an incomplete and dysfunctional wreck without her, how it physically pains him to be apart from her, oh if only the stars would grant his wish and split the mountains apart so that he may fly to his princess, his muse, his goddess of ebony wit. It gets so old.

And it’s not Qibli. He never acted this clingy towards Moonwatcher. It’s more intense than even Winter gets about Moon, and Winter was actually depicted with a crush on her in book 6. Qibli was always just a supportive element, eager to befriend Moon but never desperate, like he is going to keel over if he is separated from his true love five minutes longer. These very frequent love declarations feel so forced coming out of him. It strikes me like it was just written in service of the love triangle. Maybe if we make him confess his love every four seconds readers will overlook the fact that they had no proper romantic build-up.

You might rightly accuse me of bias. I have previously admitted I am fond of Qibli/Winter as a romantic pairing, on the surface this seems like I am just not happy with my pet ship being blocked by Moonwatcher. But I assure you, I am actually pretty flexible and accommodating even towards pairings that contradict my preferences. I have no issues with Winter/Moonwatcher, for example, because the possibility was properly established and they have good romantic chemistry in Winter Turning. In theory, I would have no problem with Qibli/Moonwatcher either if it was ever set up as an interesting romantic dynamic. But to me, it seems like Qibli is written as a good, supportive friend to Moon for four books, only to pivot hard into “Moon moon moon moon moon moon swoon” at the last second, and it just reads to me as obnoxious.

I got distracted. This section is called “Qibli’s callousness”, and I haven’t even talked about the main part.

Qibli and Winter have excellent chemstry together, whether you read it as romantic or platonic—both of these interpretations have merit and are set up. They’re always the highlight of any scene they’re in. Throughout the story arc you get the impression that these two really get on each other’s nerves, but they bond and grow into really strong friends who bicker a lot but have each other’s backs when it counts.

Then there is a scene where Qibli casually tells Winter that he wouldn’t object if someone wanted to mind-control away some of Winter’s more objectionable traits.

This is genuinely a terrible thing to say to your friend. Like, it crosses a line and ceases to be harmless banter; you’re just telling them that there is something you hate about them so much that you wish they were someone else. Winter actually WAS mind-controlled earlier and felt (and proably still feels) guilty about having attacked Qibli in that state. And now Qibli says “Hey, I wouldn’t mind if someone did that to you again! Hue hue!”

It is awful, BUT I don’t necessarily object to Qibli saying this here. Qibli is in the middle of his character arc at this moment, so he is expected to be flawed. He is making a mistake by thoughtlessly telling Winter this horrid thing, and it seems like a believable continuation of his current character track. This is a reasonable development as long as the plot acknowledges that it’s a mistake.

Spoilers: The plot doesn’t acknowledge that it’s a mistake. Qibli never has a scene after where he reflects upon what he said and apologizes to Winter. When Darkstalker has Qibli trapped in his mountain jail and mind-wipes Qibli’s grandfather into a toddler (hey, wait a minute), Qibli gets visibly disturbed. Like, this is so off-putting to him that he gets queasy and Darkstalker hastily changes the spell. That could have been a great way to bring this back. Like in the epilogue, have Qibli track down Winter and tell him about disturbing baby grandpa theater and how he realized that wiping people’s minds is actually messed up and should have never said that to him.

But he doesn’t. He just lets Winter go, allowing him to believe he is broken and needs magical intervention to be tolerable. It leaves me to think that maybe he’s still okay with it, and fantasizing about rewriting his friend’s mind. Great.

Moonwatcher’s character death

You will find as this goes on that, I get the impression that the second half of this book takes all of the wonderful, endearing characters I have learned to love throughout the story and replaces them with really mean, or stupid, or otherwise inaccurate caricatures.

Moonwatcher’s relationship with Darkstalker gets plenty of setup and development in Moon Rising. You get the sense that these two could be great friends if their circumstances were a little different. It does a great job at making you think maybe Darkstalker is just misunderstood; maybe Moon should free him from his predicament.

Then at the end of Escaping Peril comes the emotional gut punch. Darkstalker actually IS a villain. He callously admits to Moonwatcher that he used his magic to make his own father gruesomely disembowel himself. Moonwatcher is horrified and disgusted that he would do that. There is no circumstance in which something like that would ever be okay. She ends the scene awash in tears because the person she thought was her friend is a murderer and a sadist. This is good, that is a natural reaction to what she was just told.

A few hours from there, in Talons of Power, Turtle finds Moon again and she is completely cool with Darkstalker walking free, despite crying her eyes out after feeling so betrayed earlier. That may seem strange, but this is still good because later, Darkstalker’s mind control plot is discovered. This scene was obviously written to set that up, Moon is mind-controlled into forgetting that Darkstalker could do something that morally reprehensible, and thus forgives him. This is also completely in line with his characterization in Legends: Darkstalker. It’s a kind of stunt he would pull to get Clearsight to shut up about him slipping into villainy.

In my earlier post I alluded to a moment where Moon is set to narrative auto-pilot and says something so rampantly off-kilter that it does irreversible, permanent damage to her character. It happens here, in the second half of book 10. Qibli gives Moon the Darkstalker protection earring, and Moon, somehow, says “I’m not being mind-controlled, Darkstalker really is my friend.”

I get what the plot tries to do here. It’s taking this concept of mind-control and adding a nuance, in an attempt to flesh out Darkstalker and give his character depth. He is ready to control everyone in the world, but for Moon, who is his best friend in this era, he wants her to remain herself. Perhaps this is his attempt at attonement for playing with Clearsight’s mind and driving her away from him. It is very touching in a way, viewed in isolation.

Unfortunately, it does not work with the full context of all the books. Because Moon is in auto-pilot mode right now, her main character trait is “Darkstalker=Friend,” so naturally she would speak in support of him. But this revelation has devastating retroactive consequences. The earlier scene that was written with Moon under mind-control is now altered into her having been in her right mind! She is completely okay with Darkstalker’s admittance to cold-blooded torture and evisceration, within hours of being so shocked by it that it made her cry and ready to denounce him. That is such a quick turnaround it’s giving me whiplash. And what’s more it turns Moon from a principled, upstanding girl into a sociopath who casually accepts gruesome torture and murder if it is committed by someone she likes.

Did Sutherland forget about the scene two books ago, where Darkstalker’s actions were so inconceivably horrid for Moon to learn of that she started crying? It baffles me that this made it into the final version. Her saying she was never mind-controlled makes Moon come off as so awful. This torture-excusing lunatic is not the same kind-hearted and insightful character I followed in all the other books.

Kinkajou’s character derailment

The world is a sad place when I have to question the way Kinjajou is written. Fortunately she is mostly fine, despite her having the biggest excuse to act out-of-character since she’s the victim of a mind-altering spell. Her only real moment of “what!?” comes at the end.

I already talked about her role in casting the spell that regresses Darkstalker into an infant. But I didn’t mention how her being the source of it is questionable in itself.

The clue is in the first paragraph of this section: She herself has experienced the effects of invasive mind-alteration. She was cursed by Anemone in the previous book to be in love with Turtle, and kind of half-struggles kind of not with it, it’s really strange. Turtle is appropriately horrified and acts like really awful things are happening, but then it’s mostly played lightly for some reason. My assumption is that Sutherland introduced this plot point, but then realized how uncomfortable this premise really is and tried to downplay it until the story got to a point where it could get done away with.

But I think the takeaway is still supposed to be that this was a horrid thing to do (which it absolutely is), and that Kinkajou will have to spend a lot of time trying to untangle her real emotions from the fake ones the spell created.

The point is: Kinkajou knows first-hand how awful it is to do something like that to another person. Ideally she should never even conceive of the idea to cast a spell like that, but if we’re really set on this Darkstalker baby thing and it has to happen, she should at least be a bit hesitant about it. And afterwards she should struggle with the guilt of having resorted to it. Not celebrate it and be proud, like it’s funny.

The assassination of Winter’s future

Now we come to the part I’ve alluded to previously; the part where all of these threads converge to utterly destroy one character and drive him to the brink of ruin. Let’s talk about Winter.

Prince Winter is the son of Tundra and Prince Narwhal, hatching in the same clutch as his sister Icicle. He spent his formative years being unfavorably compared to said sister—who easily took to traits that Icewing royalty considers desirable—whereas Winter struggled greatly to embody those same ideals. He was just a little too kind, too merciful, too gentle. As a result he often had to endure abuse from his parents, who made him feel like he was defective.

Because he was young and didn’t have any other frame of reference, he embraced this abusive narrative and began to drive himself with a vigor unreasonable for someone of his age. He scraped and cloyed for every bit of credit he could get, obsessing over advancing up the circle rankings in an attempt to “purge” the wrongness out of himself. To make his parents as proud of him as they were of Icicle.

This never worked. He was always seen as the runt, poised to embarrass the family name. Whatever he did, no matter how hard he strived, there was always something he could have done better.

The only real source of love and affirmation in his life was his older brother, Hailstorm. Where everyone else only saw what Winter wasn’t, Hailstorm embraced his brother despite of his “failings” and was openly affectionate with him. When Winter was with him, it was okay to not think about rankings all the time, and just be himself for a bit. I assume Hailstorm fulfilled a similar role for Icicle as well, which is why both of them love him dearly, and Icicle destroys her own life to bring him back.

Winter also has a fascination with scavengers, possibly because they are small and perceived as useless, like he himself is. He likely feels a kinship with them and observes them being craftier and more adept than everyone else sees them. This is therapeutic for him, to see that a thing can have merit even if no one wants to see it.

One day, he and Hailstorm sneak into Skywing territory so Winter can catch a scavenger as a pet. This excursion turns hostile when they are discovered by a roaming Skywing troop and faced with the prospect of capture, possibly execution. In a gambit to save Winter from this fate, Hailstorm mirrors the words of his parents, calling Winter pathetic and useless, so the Skywings will not think of him as a threat and show mercy. His act succeeds in convincing the Skywings, but it also convinces Winter, who does not understand Hailstorm only said these things to save his life. He returns home—believing his brother hated him all along—to face the wrath of his furious family for losing them “the desirable son”.

For all of his life, these themes have repeated themselves and haunted him. “I was born wrong and defective,” “I am unlovable,” “No one wants me.”

A few months after the war ends, Winter is one of the five Icewings enrolled in the newly founded Jade Mountain Academy. Shortly after departing, he unexpectedly returns home, having successfully rescued his older brother and bringing him back. He is made to believe that this erases his mistakes, his mother even pays him a backhanded compliment, an uncharacteristically “nice” gesture. He is promoted to the top of the rankings, finally his parents are proud of him.

But of course it is all a trick. The “adoration” afforded to him was all a ploy. Secretly, his parents abused power and tradition to arrange for Winter’s death. They force him into a lethal trial they intentionally rigged against him, all to finally erase that stain on their family’s honor.

Winter finally realizes the true nature of his parents’ opinion of him. Even when he succeeds, and does everything right, he is still defective, unlovable, and unwanted. He will never be anything else to his family. And so he leaves his homeland, pretending he is dead, resigned to live in hiding forever.

During this time, while at the brink of despair, Winter is able to draw strength from one source: His new friends from the academy. He vocalizes that, for all the abuse he suffered at the hands of his birth family, he fervently believes that THEY would never do anything like that to him. They chose to stuck with him, even when he was awful, and told him he was not hopeless. He was not a mistake; he could be deserving of love.

So naturally, he returns to them; they accept him readily, are willing to be his new surrogate family. When he almost burns to death at a later point, they fear and weep for him. When Qibli sets out to confront his own abusive family, Winter, despite being mind-controlled into a placid potato at the time, feels concerned enough for his friend’s safety to insist to come along (returning the favor of them accompanying him in his time of need in book 7). When Darkstalker’s mind control forces Winter to attack Qibli, he is shown ashamed and guilty of it once the control wears off again.

They bicker and struggle, and make mistakes, they break up but always come back together again. Time and time again the one thing that is always reinforced: When the cards are down, Winter loves his friends, and they love him. They would never intentionally hurt each other, or give up on each other.

I want you to keep in mind how wholesome, and loving, and mutually supportive this ramshackle band of misfits has been portrayed to this point... Because we’re moving on to the arc 2 finale, and it will do everything it can to corrupt all of it and consign Winter to a life of misery.

We arrive at aforementioned scene, where Moonwatcher receives her earring. Just a little bit prior, Winter had learned that Darkstalker unleashed a magical plague onto his people in an attempt to wipe them out. Now here is Moonwatcher, revealing that she is not under any spell, and has aligned herself with this guy willingly, speaking fondly of him as if he was a dear friend who never did any wrong. Winter takes this badly and accidentally breaks a vase; the narrative lingers on this moment and really tries to sell us on how unreasonable Winter’s reaction is, how he is overreacting, but let’s examine that interpretation for a moment.

Moonwatcher doesn’t yet know about the attempted Icewing genocide, but she DOES know about Darkstalker being okay with casting spells to inflict immeasurable torture upon those he hates. WE know that she knows this, so her stance here is already suspect. Yet she goes on to praise Darkstalker and refer to him as a friend. Look at this from Winter’s perspective. This “friend” of Moonwatcher just tried to kill his entire tribe, and he actually succeeded in killing his aunt, Queen Glacier, a person Winter greatly respects. Winter is currently unable to return to his homeland for fear of being branded a traitor. Even if he could return, he knows his obstinate and spiteful family would prevent him from attending the funeral, meaning he is not even afforded the basic dignity of saying farewell to his aunt. The aunt whom Darkstalker murdered by making her vomit her own blood until she withered away in her bed. And here is Moon, absolving the person who did this to Glacier from his appalling actions, despite knowing full well what Darkstalker is capable of and choosing to look away.

I don’t know about you, but I think I can forgive the grieving, emotionally overwhelmed boy for shattering a little pottery after hearing his trusted friend—who held his hand when he was dying—say that the guy who makes people disembowel themselves and wipes out entire countries may be misunderstood and not so bad. I think I would have a similar reaction. In fact, I would never want to talk to her ever again.

There is no way I can read this scene in which Moon doesn’t come off as either an absolute lunatic, or critically stupid and callous. In fact, based on her earlier behavior I half-expect her to get over the news of the attempted Icewing massacre in a couple hours, saying “Eh, it’s kinda bad, but you just have to do these kinds of things sometimes, you know? I’m sure he had his reasons.”

Then there is the part where Qibli makes his off-color comment about how Winter’s brain could really use a good wash. I already went into how it could have worked but didn’t. But with the timing here, we’ve already had Moon spit on their friendship, so as Winter’s other closest friend, it naturally follows that Qibli also craps on his feelings.

Consider the context: Winter comes from an abusive household where his parents forcibly tried to change him away from who he was to purge the “wrongness” from him. When they betray him and he narrowly escapes their attempt on his life, he re-affirms his belief in his friends, and the knowledge that they wouldn’t treat him like that gives him the strength he needs to keep going. But now, Qibli asserts that Winter DOES need to be altered, thereby AGREEING with Winter’s abusive parents, rendering Winter’s affirmation from book 7 erroneous. Qibli WOULD treat him like that if it made Winter less “intolerable”.

Neither Moonwatcher nor Qibli ever make an attempt to repair this rift. Winter is left betrayed and alone.

Stuff happens, and the forces of the Nightwings and Icewings come to blows over Jade Mountain. With his two closest friends having written him off and his support network eroded, Winter relapses into thinking he is worthless, seeks validation in unquestioning patriotism, and realigns himself with his abusive family by throwing himself into the battle. Nobody wants him to, in fact his parents still hate him for it, but whatever. His father dies and his mother blames him for it.

Meanwhile Turtle, Anemone, and Qibli are cooking up a solution to the battle problem. They have the idea to make everyone’s minds connect in a huge empathy wave for a few moments, which I think is a pretty interesting idea for what it’s worth. But then they teleport both armies back to their homes, and the spell sweeps Winter up with them, taking him out of the rest of the finale and bringing him to the Ice Kingdom. The characters say “whoops” but aren’t further concerned with the situation. It’s all a big laugh.

Let me remind you that Winter is currently considered not welcome on Icewing territory. His family, whom he was sent back with, is extremely abusive and vindictive. His friends know this. Said parents have previously arranged for him to be killed, and are still on record as wanting him dead. His friends KNOW this. And now he is alone with them and a gaggle of other royal Icewings who all are extremely pissed off at him for ruining their sacred trial site.

It is very possible that he is being torn apart and mauled by an enraged mob right now. He could be forced into captivity and flayed. Maybe the interim regent is sentencing him to death and getting the rope ready. There is a million different horrible things that could be happening to Winter right now, while he is trapped alone with people who hate him, things his friends would be reasonably able to anticipate. And nobody is doing anything to get him out of there, to suggest bringing him back, even though it would only take a single spoken sentence to do so! They aren’t even concerned!

Then the climax happens, strawberry thing and all, and we get the coup de grâce. After all is said and done, the group decides that Winter is untrustworthy, and that they must protect the secret of Darkstalker’s fate from him, because they fear if he knew he would kill Peacemaker.

Moon, who read Winter’s mind in book 6 and reached out to him about how the “ruthless Icewing warrior” persona in his head is a facade and how she sees he has a gentle and good heart... Moon, who in book 7 finds out about Winter’s secret deal to kill Glory and STILL trusts him, who calls out his bullshit to his face because she KNOWS how kind-hearted Winter is and that he would never resort to murder... Moon who, again, held his hand while he was dying... thinks that the dragon she has reminded of his compassionate nature time and time again would kill an innocent child.

This is disgusting. Moon believing that is so far off the mark with regards to anything this group has embodied or done for any of the last 4 books, that my only conclusion can be that these are different characters. Maybe the Nightwing library collapsed on top of original Moon, and when Darkstalker magiced her back to health she came back wrong or something. I don’t know.

So after all of this, Winter is left alone. He somehow escaped from the Ice Kingdom; luckily there is a timeskip so we can just gloss over the horrible situation he was put in by his friends. He thinks about Jade Mountain. He reflects on everything that happened, how his parents never really loved him... How they hated him so much they tried to kill him... How he despaired, but found solace in his friends who loved him for who he was.... How those friends then betrayed him too and magiced him away... How they didn’t care about what happened to him... And he decides he is done. He won’t bother going back. A few people, probably Sunny, reach out to tell him he is welcome back, but he says “it wouldn’t be fair to other Icewings if an exile took up a bed”. The decision isn’t hard to make, after all there is nothing left for him there. Everyone has written him off, moved on and left him behind.

Kinkajou visits sometimes, tries to stay in touch, but that’s just how she is. Maybe the others sent her to check on whether he’s going to become troublesome. They don’t trust him. Better to keep an eye on him, he might kill the baby.

With nowhere else to go, Winter moves to Sanctuary, a place for rejects like him. I picture him standing there, at the edge of a cliff staring blankly into the distance. He is completely alone; no one wants to go near him or talk to him beyond the bare necessities. He could probably make new friends with the Talons of Peace if he tried, but there is no point. Why should someone like him have friends? It wouldn’t work. They’d just decide he is too inconvenient to be around. Sooner or later they would just tell him to leave anyway. It's better not to try, so he doesn't get hurt again.

And slowly it dawns on him. His parents had been right all along. It was never them, or the others, it was him. He is the problem. The Icewings said it, Qibli said it, Moonwatcher said it. There is just something fundamentally wrong with him.

He is defective. He is unlovable. Nobody wants him. He will never be anything, or have anyone. And so he stands at the cliff, looking over the broken vase fragments of his life... This is who he is. Prince Winter. A mistake.

And quietly, where no one knows or cares, he does the only thing he has left to do... he begins to weep.

As it is written, the tale of Winter is the story of a boy who is told he is wrong for being alive. He closes his ears and tries to keep walking forward, desperate to prove that he is not an error, that he has merit. But this book comes out and it unmistakably says that he doesn’t. He is nothing, and he deserves to have nothing.

And I just cannot accept that.

Why did this have to happen?

I think that the author was really struggling with the ending of this book. I’ve said before how much of a corner she wrote herself into with such an invincible villain. I think she came up with the strawberry idea as a solution to this problem. But as she was writing it, the characters kept fighting her. It was not a natural solution, not a decision the characters—as they were established—would ever make.

So concessions had to be made to force the issue. Established traits had to be bent slightly to make this plot work. The farther she went, the worse it got. The concessions piled up and turned into contrivances. Eventually the characters were no longer acting like themselves. Their bonds got stretched too far and some snapped. It’s a very tragic pitfall that occurs with long-running series.

I think Sutherland must have also been tired. Writing an entire book is a monumental task, and writing 6 connected ones even moreso. She also comes out with these things really quickly. Maybe she was burnt out? Maybe she wanted to be done and her attention lapsed. Maybe that’s why she forgot that Moon knew about the disemboweling. It seems reasonable to believe when you consider that the next story arc would make a relatively clean break from the problems of this arc, especially with regards to the magic system.

But I don’t know what ultimately happened, so I can only speculate. I reiterate, I bear no ill will against Sutherland for writing this. Even if I kind of hate everything about this finale, and very vocally wish it would be different, I don’t want this examination to generate (or reawaken) any hatred towards her, or to attack her personally. I understand the pain of an artist who gets trapped with something for too long and has to find the means, any means, to see it through to the end. I criticize the story, but I could never hate anyone for that.

But for me, I do not consider this half of the book as part of the story. The characters act too unnaturally for it to have happened. So to me, it didn’t. We don’t know what happened, maybe Darkstalker is still out there. Maybe they dealt with him. Maybe what actually happened is my crappy and self-indulgent rewrite of the ending which I will never show to anyone because it would be really embarrassing.

But whatever actually ended up happening, I am sure Winter never ended up at that cliff, pondering how worthless and meaningless his life was. He is currently at Jade Mountain, surrounded by friends who love him, and bickering with Qibli about the correct solution to their advanced calculus assignment that is due tomorrow.

Is there anything left to say?

Probably.

I didn’t talk about Anemone yet. You know, in the epilogue she enchants herself a bracelet that makes her “not be so mean all the time”. I find that creepy. To me it reads as Anemone voluntarily brainwashing herself with magic to erase her negative traits instead of growing past them naturally because she finds them undesirable and wants to work to change for the better. I would ordinarily assume that this is an overreaction on my part, and I’m just reading the scene wrong. But no, we just got through a part where the heroes brainwashing someone is treated as an unequivocal good and worthy of celebration, so I think my reading may actually be spot on. Why are we letting the little kid alter her own brain without supervision? Hello? Tsunami? Someone intervene maybe? This cannot be healthy.

Turtle stands out to me as the one bright spot in all of this. He (and Peril, but she’s mostly out of focus) remain as the only main characters of this arc who don’t have any mind-boggling out-of-character moments or sudden streaks of uncharacteristic callousness. I really like the part where Qibli goes to free Turtle from his captivity and plans to give him an earful about the comically unhelpful messages he’s been sending him. But when Turtle asks if what he did was helpful, Qibli sees how beaten down and exhausted Turtle is, and wordlessly drops his frustration to tell him “Yeah, they were helpful.” That is the true Qibli shining through for a moment, showing that he cares about the well-being of his friends.

Do I hate the pairing of Qibli/Moonwatcher? No. Well, I DO hate how it happened in the book, and how the story tried to assassinate Winter’s character to resolve the love triangle and make it happen. I don’t hate it on principle though. If you are a fan of Qibli/Moonwatcher and want to write fanfics about it, please do! I absolutely encourage you to do that! Maybe you can fix this mess and turn it into something that’s actually properly handled!

Mightyclaws keeps the power that Darkstalker granted him past the finale. That means all the spells that Darkstalker cast are technically still active. Does that mean the Icewings have to wear earrings for the rest of their lives? Do they get sick again if they take them off? Is Peril forever cursed to think of Darkstalker as a cool old uncle and has to somehow reconcile how everyone else thinks of him? How did the Nightwings relinquishing their powers work, do they have to wear the earrings forever too now?

And there is one more thing to mention.

My confession

You may have already intuited this, if you’ve been following the content of my blog. It is very heavily skewed towards the first and second arcs of the series. I would now like to confess something.

When I read the second half of book 10, I found it so disillusioning, Winter’s fate so upsetting... that I put down the series then and there. And I haven’t picked it back up since.

That’s right, I have not read arc 3. I don’t know if that makes me a fake fan. I know pretty much everything that happens in it, the controversial twist at the end, Pyrrhia coming back into the story later, Snowfall getting brainwashed by a piece of jewelry until she cares about a plot that had nothing to do with her or the fate of the Icewings, etc..

It’s not out of malice, or because it’s a new continent. The opposite in fact; I would have greatly prefered a clean break with a new setting—Bug-themed dragons in a slightly more contemporary, developed environment sounds fascinating and full of potential. I don’t hate Pantala or the new characters.

I just... I can’t really do this again. I can’t handle the thought of Pyrrhia coming back post-Darkstalker, with Winter showing up and talking to these guys again like nothing happened, seeming like a different person, joking around with them like his entire character wasn’t dragged through a mountain of manure to make the plot bend a certain way. I think as long as this is the ending that the story is continuing from, seeing that would just make me miserable.

Maybe I will just stay in the parts of the story that I fell in love with. And imagine a version of reality in which Pantala is allowed to exist on its own, where Swordtail was the fourth POV character of arc 3, where Queen Wasp stayed the villain throughout, and Snowfall got her own legends book about how she reformed Icewing society and fixed all the shit that poisoned Winter’s life, so future generations don’t have to suffer through the same stuff he did.

~~~~~

If you’re still with me, thank you for reading this far. I think this is everything I ever thought about the finale of the second story arc, so now I never have to talk about it again. Writing this was difficult. I found it crushing at times. This will probably stand as the only overtly negative post I have ever made on this blog. I love Wings of Fire, and I want to celebrate it. To add to it, not tear it down.

I hope this wasn’t too boring, or painful, or frustrating, or soul-crushing to read through. I’ll see you later, hopefully with a more constructive post.

[daegu-based-terrorist]

I think a lot of people misunderstand why we talk about both racism and anti communism when discussing anti north korean sentiment. I do understand why people don’t think the racism aspect is all that important to emphasise, after all Samsung Republic is probably the north’s greatest detractor and the most vile anti North Korean scumbags can all be found on this side of the DMZ.

However I think it’s also a failing to not recognise that alot of the anti North Korean sentiment that comes from outside of Korea utilises anti Korean racism.

(South) Koreans are a great example of the “model minority” * huges swaths of our popular culture has been exported and deliberately changed for the consumption of the white westerner. Koreans in the American diaspora have often taken to becoming members of the petty bourgeois, and for some reason, doing this. South Korea is a hyper capitalist military state and uses Korean culture as a product to be sold to casual enjoyers and fetishists a like. New developments in popular tourist cities may as well cater towards the white expat/tourist’s gaze. Korean Americans have delighted in and actively encouraged the proximity to whiteness they gain by being neither black, native american or one of the “bad asians” (south, west ect.)

The dprk, and by extension, it’s people, destroy the shaky foundations all of these myths are based on. So despite being the same ethnicity, North Koreans aren’t given the privilege of proximity to whiteness, or treated as if they are almost honorary Europeans.

The Korean of the north is still a uncivilised dog eating animal who doesn’t know what is good for them and should either be saved by the benevolent American army or put out of their misery if the first option fails to materialise.

If we were to overthrow the ROK government today and reunite with the DPRK under the current North Korean government, South Koreans would be treated with as much vitriol as those of us from and/or in the north.

Because as affective as anti communist propaganda is, the fact that white people already viewed Koreans as docile, unintelligent people, really helped in promoting the idea that North Koreans are unable to think for themselves or have any sort of agency/autonomy.

Idk. I’ve been awake for two days straight and feel like I’ve written this weirdly so please as for any clarification. I’m exhausted lol

* (now please correct anything that I say wrong here, I’m not American so I’ve only understood this threw literature and the stories and anecdotes of other Korean comrades)

[traveler-at-heart]

The Doctor's In - Part 4

Summary: Wanda and R have their first date ;)

Wanda: Sorry I missed you before you left for work. Wanna come over for dinner with us?

Y/N: Would love to :)

“You’re awfully cheerful for someone who just got dumped” Darcy says as you smile at your phone.

“Who got what?”

“Carol and Maria…”

“No one dump me, there was no relationship to end” you say, locking your phone. You have noticed that Carol has been avoiding you, which is pretty idiotic, considering a lot of the trauma cases that come your way are ortho related.

That would also explain why Kamala rambled so much every time you requested a consult, so you made a note to speak to Carol about it.

“So…” Darcy ponders, and you wish she’d just drop it. She snaps her fingers. “The hot mom!”

“Her name is Wanda, and we are just talking” you refuse to look at her, knowing she can smell the bullshit from miles away.

“Something tells me talking wasn’t the only thing you did with your mouths” she insists, pulling on your sleeve.

“Fine! We kissed and it was awesome! Happy, you little pestering gnome?”

“Yes, lesbian whore. Congrats on securing a ticket to MILF paradise”

“Fuck you”

“Doctor Y/L/N” Kamala enters the room as you give Darcy the middle finger. “I can come back! Sorry!”

“Look what you’ve done” you mumble as Darcy cackles. The joy doesn’t last long, as you steal her chips. She’s too distracted making fun of you to notice.

“Hey, not fair”

You close the door and go after the resident.

“Hey, Kamala”

“Oh, hi. Doctor Danvers asked me to show you some X-Rays”

“Tell Doctor Danvers to show me herself. Or better yet, I will go directly to her. Where can I find her, Doctor Kahn?”

“Uh… I…”

“Never mind, I’ll ask Maria” you turn to leave  and Kamala screeches in horror.

“OR 2. She’s in OR 2. Please don’t do it, my Baba will never forgive me if I get kicked out of the program” the young doctor clings to your arm.

“Kamala. Get it together. It’s gonna be fine. If Carol gets mad, you can be in my service for a week” you promise and she barely stops hyperventilating.

By the time you reach the OR, Carol is done with her surgery. She stops in her tracks when your eyes meet.

“Doctor Danvers, a word?” you ask, trying to sound professional.

“Of course” she nods. Leading you to an empty scrub room, Carol opens the door for you, fidgeting. “What’s up?”

“Stop making everything so awkward. I’m not mad at you. Kamala is about to have a stress induced stroke from all the consults you send her to avoid me”

“You’re really not mad?” Carol says.

“No! I never expected anything else from you. We didn’t talk about it but I always knew what your true feelings were”

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be, honestly. Just, stop acting like you left me at the altar or some weird shit. We’re colleagues and friends”

“That makes me happy. I didn’t want to stop talking to you” she relaxes. “Though I have to be honest, I told Maria what happened between us”

“Is she mad?”

“Only a bit and just to me. I’ll manage to turn it around” the blonde smiles, a dreamy look on her eyes.

“If it helps, tell her I have a date on Thursday” you say, leaving the room, Carol right behind you.

“Oh, let me guess. The hot mom?” she jokes.

“Her name is Wanda!” you repeat.

“Well, let me know how the date goes?” Carol pats your shoulder, and you nod.

“Will do. Now page your resident and tell her we’re all set before she gets admitted to the Psych ward”

—

The footsteps approaching on the other side make your heart jump. You wonder if the flowers are too much, but when Wanda sees them, her face lights up and you know it was the right thing to do.

“Come on in” Wanda says, taking the flowers and then standing on her toes to kiss your cheek. “The boys are in the living room”

“Want some help with the food?”

“No, I’m almost done. It will be more helpful if you entertain the twins for a little” she says, pulling the flowers close to her chest.

“Alright, then” you’re about to kiss her when the boys walk in. They’re so excited to see you that they don’t notice how close you are to their mother.

“Y/N” Billy says, running towards you.

“Hey, kiddos” you pick them up, carrying them over your shoulder and they giggle. “Come on, there’s a new game I wanna show you”

You take your time to set everything up, explaining a bit about the game. They giggle as Crash jumps and turns in the sand of the first level, and you finish it all, including the tricky jump at the end.

“Who wants to go next?”

“Me” Tommy says, sitting next to you. They are both focused on the game, so you take advantage of the distraction to go see Wanda.

Sliding into the kitchen, you grab her by the waist.

“You scared me” she laughs, allowing you to press against her back, kissing her temple. “What’s going on?”

“I have approximately fifty seconds before they ask for my help so I’m making sure they count” you turn her around and lean forward, capturing her lips and sighing against her mouth. “You look very pretty”

“Thank you”

“You smell really nice” you add, kissing her again, making Wanda laugh. “And I really, really, like kissing you”

Wanda smiles at that, her hand caressing your cheek.

“Y/N!” the boys chant in unison.

“Like clockwork” you mutter, kissing Wanda’s forehead as you go back to the living room.

You spend a few more minutes playing with the kids, until Wanda calls everyone for dinner.

“How’s the arm, kiddo?” you say, sitting next to Billy with Tommy and Wanda in front of you. As you take a bite of the chicken, you notice a funny flavor. “Is this brocc…”

Wanda widens her eyes and kicks you under the table.

“Ouch”

“You ok?” Tommy asks, none the wiser.

“Yeah, I just bit my tongue” you lie, Wanda taking a sip of her water to hide her laugh.

“Kids, eat” she encourages them, and you get the hint. The flavor of the broccoli is hidden with the cheese, so you smile and continue to eat, enjoying every single bite.

“I’m on cleaning duty” you say as soon as everyone finishes, taking the dishes and cleaning the table.

Billy and Tommy run to the living room to continue playing, and as you get ready to wash the dishes, Wanda leans forward and kisses your cheek.

“It’s nice to have you here”

“You have an odd way of showing it, Miss Maximoff” you joke, leaning against her touch.

“In my defense, it’s the only way to get them to eat their greens” she jokes and you lean forward, your lips inches away from hers. In that precise moment, the boys call for her.

“Behave” she warns the children, pulling away to see what the fuss is about.

“Have you thought about boarding schools?” you joke and she pinches your side. “Ah, kidding! I would miss them too much”

You load the dishwasher, clean the pots and put the rest of the food on some containers. By the time you’re done, the kids are getting ready to go to bed.

“Can you come over again tomorrow?”

“If your mom wants me to, sure. I can bring the food this time so she takes a break from cooking” you offer, smiling at Wanda.

“We’ll see about that, Y/N works hard enough as it is. Say goodbye to her, boys”

Tommy and Billy wave at you, already dragging their feet. You stay on the living room, and a few minutes later Wanda comes down.

“Hi” she plops down next to you and you smile.

“All good?”

“A bit tired, that’s all. Just ignore me, you’re the one that works all those crazy hours”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m used to it by now” you shrug your shoulders.

“Would you like some wine?”

“Sure, I don’t have work tomorrow”

“How come?” Wanda asks when she returns, handing you a glass of red wine and sitting closer to you on the couch.

“Well, I have a really hot date coming up and I need to plan every detail”

“She sounds like a lucky girl” Wanda blushes, biting her lip.

“Oh, I’m the lucky one” you say, placing both of your glasses on the coffee table. “She’s smart, funny, has legs for days, cooks amazing food…”

“Stop” she laughs, and you shake your head no. Wanda is still laughing when you connect your lips with hers, a sigh leaving her mouth when you lift her and place her on your lap, her legs straddling you.

“Is this ok?”

“Yeah” she nods, leaning her forehead against yours. “More than ok. As a matter of fact, I remember reading that kissing is good for your health”

“It’s so good” you say, your lips traveling to her jaw, behind her ear, down her neck. “I’d say do it as often as possible”

“Doctor’s orders?” Wanda jokes, her voice faltering as you come back to her mouth, your tongue swiping across her bottom lip.

“Doctor’s orders”

—

The plan is coming along. You have the tickets for the exhibit and the next thing on the list should be the dinner reservation. Your pager beeps the minute you call the restaurant. 

911.

“Shit” 

You sprint to the car, knowing no one would call you outside of work if it wasn’t serious. 

“What’s wrong?” you walk to the ER, looking around.

“What on Earth is this?” Tony Stark, neurosurgeon and professional asshole gets in your face the minute you get there.

“I don’t know, I’ve been off work since yesterday, Stark” you take the chart, reading all the information until you get to the signature. The writing got progressively worse, until it was just senseless lines.

“This person was clearly having a stroke, and the staff didn’t notice. I have to scrub in and see if I can save his life”

“And you’re wasting time arguing with me” you roll your eyes, pushing the chart to his chest and walking to the OR.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“To scrub in. If you want to blame me, that’s fine. I’m staying by this patient’s side until he pulls through”

“If he pulls through” Stark says angrily and you ignore him. 

Before scrubbing in, you check your phone.

Wanda: Is everything ok? I saw you leaving in a hurry. 

“By all means, take your time” Stark says, glaring as he walks by you.

You spend the entire surgery in his OR, standing still and doing everything he asks. He’s a rude, pretentious cunt, but if anyone can work a miracle, it’s him, so you suck it up and take every snide comment with a blank stare.

After hours working, Tony sighs, nodding at his work. 

“Close him, Parker,” he asks his resident. You stand watching the young man’s work, until the surgeon asks you to come with him.

“I’m sorry” he blurts out the minute you step out. “This wasn’t your patient, nor your responsibility. And I made it seem like it was”

“It’s still not right. If I had been here, I would have noticed”

“I know. Your work is impeccable” he acknowledges and you nod. Even if he’s an ass, this is the hospital his father built, and he’s a genius with years ahead of you in experience.

“Will he be alright?”

“There’s a good chance he’ll pull through. Let’s be cautiously optimistic. I’ll let Parker explain everything to the family. Sorry for interrupting your days off”

“Not a problem” 

“It’s the first time you’ve taken PTO in 3 years. Fury’s gonna have my head for making you come” Tony says, laughing.

The patient is moved to the ICU, but you’re still not comfortable leaving, so you go back to the on-call room, sitting in a bed to gather your thoughts. Yelling in the hallway makes you stand up, watching as Parker tries to speak to a man and his wife. 

“You discharged him, said he was fine” the man yells, pointing at Peter’s face. 

“Sir, I can assure you, we’re doing our best to make sure your son…”

“We wanna see him now” the man takes Peter by his coat, almost lifting him off the ground. The young man stutters, not knowing how to deescalate the situation.

“Hey, that’s enough” you step in, not realizing the man is about to throw a punch until you make him drop Peter, his elbow connecting with your cheek.

“Crap, Doctor Y/L/N, are you ok?” Peter says, rushing to your side.

“Yeah, fine”

Fucking fantastic. 

“Sir, I’m going to ask you to wait in the foyer, or I’ll call security” Carol steps in, glaring at the man. She waits until he’s gone, muttering an apology your way. “You ok?”

“Mhm, great”

“I thought you had a few days off”

“Yeah, me too”

“Come on, let’s have a look at that punch” Carol says, dragging you to one of the exam rooms. You sigh, trying to keep your eye closed. “No stitches needed”

“Great” you mumble, pulling out your phone. There’s like five messages from Wanda but before you can answer, she calls you.

“Hey”

“Hey, are you ok? You had me worried”

“Yeah, there was a thing at the hospital and I… ouch! Carol, a little warning?” you hiss as the blonde pours some disinfectant on the bruised skin.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were busy” Wanda says, her demeanor changing. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone”

“Wait, Wanda!” you say but it’s too late, the call cut off. “God, could this day get any worse? I have to go”

“Want me to drive you there?” Carol says with a smile and you roll your eyes.

“Yeah. That will make Wanda so happy”

“Whipped” Carol jokes and you try to glare, but it hurts your eye.

Wanda barely put the kids to bed, when she hears a knock on the door. She’s prepared to give you an attitude but then sees your swollen cheek.

“Oh, my God, what happened to you, are you ok?” the brunette says, immediately forgetting she’s mad at you.

“It’s a long story. But that doesn’t matter. Listen, I know how it seems, I tell you I’m busy and when you call me I’m with Carol”

“I know you work together. It’s fine” Wanda lies.

“No, it’s not, come on”

“Ok, just come in and explain everything while I get you some ice, ok?”

“Thanks” you mutter, sitting at the kitchen counter. You fidget with your hands, not looking up until Wanda comes closer, her eyes soft as she moves the hair out of your face.

“Cold” she warns, placing a compress against your skin. You sigh with relief, holding her hand close.

“I’m sorry. I was called in to fix something I didn’t break”

“Don’t apologize for doing your job, Y/N” she says in a soft voice. “Is everyone ok? Is that how you got hurt?”

“Everyone’s ok. The parents were just pissed and I tried to break the fight”

“Does it hurt?” Wanda pulls the compress and examines the skin. It’s a little bruised, but not too swollen.

“It will later” you sigh.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“You can kiss it better”

“Is that what Carol was doing earlier?” Wanda tilts her head, a dangerous look in her eyes that sends shivers down your spine.

“Oh, come on! Not fair!”

“I’m kidding” she says, finally kissing you softly. You close your eyes, relaxing for the first time in 12 hours. “I’m sorry for giving you a hard time, you were saving lives”

“What you feel is valid. Don’t apologize for it, ok? I’ll always listen to you, I promise” you kiss her hand, smiling when she blushes. “We’re still up for our date, right?”

“We can reschedule, you must be exhausted”

“Not a chance” you say, pulling her closer again. “I’ve been waiting too long for this”

“Well, alright. If you insist” she pecks your lips and you nod.

“I do”

“I have an… odd request” she says, avoiding your eyes.

“I won’t kink shame you, I promise”

“Can you be serious for just a second?” Wanda laughs, taking your hand. You make a motion to keep quiet, and let her speak. “Can you… pick me up around the block?”

“I can. But why am I doing it?”

“First of all, if the kids see you, they’ll want to tag along. And also… I’m not trying to be pessimistic here, I just want to protect them. It’s been the three of us since they were born and I’ve never even dated anyone, let alone someone they know” she takes a deep breath, hoping you won’t get upset.

“Billy and Tommy come first, always” you nod. “I agree to the new rule, or I can wear glasses and a fake mustache”

“Nope” she shakes her head, covering your mouth with her hand.

“A bald cap then” you mumble against her palm.

She figures the only way to make it stop is by kissing you and she leans forward, her lips against yours. You smile dreamily as she pulls apart.

“Now. Would you like some dinner?” Wanda offers, and you almost drop to your knees.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect, Wanda Maximoff”

The way she blushes and giggles makes up for all the shitty things that happened in the past hours.

—

“There’s food and snacks, a list of phone numbers on the fridge in case of an emergency”

“Yes, Mrs. Maximoff,” Morgan says, following the woman around the house. It’s her first time babysitting the twins, but Wanda has known the girl since she started giving her private art lessons and trusts her.

“Boys, I’m leaving” Wanda calls, the kids standing up from the table to hug their mom goodbye. “Be good to Morgan, ok?”

“Where are you going?” Tommy asks.

“A work thing” she lies, feeling terrible about hiding the truth from the twins. But still, she knows it’s for the best to keep this private.

She waves goodbye one last time and walks past the house, noticing your car is no longer in the driveway. Her heart beats fast at the expectation of an evening together.

“Hey, gorgeous” you greet, leaning against the passenger door. “You look absolutely stunning”

You admire how amazing she looks in a pair of jeans, a white tee and a long sleeve sweater.

“So do you” she kisses you, smiling as you open the door to the car.

“Thanks, the purple eye gives my look a nice touch” you say as you begin the drive.

“Are you gonna tell me where we are going?”

“You’ll find out soon enough” you say, hoping she likes the surprise. “First stop” you announce, opening the car door for Wanda and looking at the building in front of you. 

“Artechouse. Oh, I’ve heard about this” Wanda nods, intrigued.

“I did too, but never made the time to go. Come on” you lead her to the entrance, showing your tickets. “There’s a small bar if you wanna have a drink before we go in” 

“Let’s go in now” she says, looking everywhere. 

You think it’s a good sign that she’s so interested in the exhibit, so you lead her to the start, both of you gasping as you enter a room that is projecting videos of flowers from floor to ceiling. Wanda’s hand searches yours in the dark, and you smile shyly as she holds it, walking around the room.

The intimacy of the place allows you to come closer, sharing everything you see in a low voice and enjoying the show. 

“Check this out” you say, lifting your arm, the animation following your movements. Wanda lets out a laugh, doing the same.

Each room enchants Wanda even more, the next installation featuring plants that react to the touch with light and sound. Your favorite by far is the tree that reacts differently if you’re holding hands or hugging. As you walk up to it, Wanda is still holding your hand and you both look at the screen. Well, she’s looking at the projection and you’re looking at her, thinking how beautiful she is. 

Taking a step forward, your arms go around her waist and you smile, admiring how the images change.

“It’s beautiful” Wanda whispers, turning to you. “You’re not looking” 

“I have the best view right in front of me” you smile, happy when she kisses you softly.

Wanda takes her time examining everything and once she’s done, you walk to the exit. 

“That was amazing. I forgot how much I enjoy these things. Thank you, Y/N”

“Glad you liked it” 

“Best first date I’ve had,” she smiles.

“Oh, this is only the first part. You don’t really think I’d forget about the food, right?” 

“Where are we going?”

“Well, there’s a very fancy option but I don’t feel like going with this thing on my face” you point at the bruise, annoyed. “If you’re feeling adventurous we could try something different?” 

“You look perfectly fine, darling” she kisses your cheek. “But I’m up for an adventure, so lead the way” 

“Awesome” you hold her hand, walking down the street and away from the museum. This is your favorite part of town, close to the pier and the little shops that are open until late. 

You walk down the promenade, showing Wanda some of the places you love. There’s a small gallery, a cafe, and other shops. 

“We’re here” you announce, pointing excitedly at the kebab shop. “This is fine, right? We can still go to the fancy place if you like”

“Sorry this place isn’t fancy enough for you, Majesty” the owner pops out of nowhere, scaring you.

“Samir! That’s not what I meant. You know I love your food”

“Mhm” he glares, but then smiles at Wanda. “What can I get for you, angel?”

“Well, what’s good here?” Wanda wonders, not as familiar with the dishes. “Maybe a shawarma” 

“How about a kebab box, fries to share and a doner” you suggest, “And her shawarma, of course” 

“That’s a lot of food” she protests and you shrug your shoulders.

“I’m always eating leftovers before I leave for work so it’s fine, babe” 

“Oh, well” she wants to scold you about your eating habits, but the pet name makes her dizzy. 

You pay and lead them to a small table outside, unaware of Wanda’s flustered state. You hand over a soda and open your can, taking a sip.

“We can go to other art shows whenever you want, you know? Even if I don’t understand anything, I do enjoy watching you” you smile, laughing as Wanda’s cheeks go red at the comment.

“I did enjoy it, thank you. You come here often?”

“I do, I love the food here. Samir noticed I came late because of my shifts and he always saved me some food. Nice fella” you turn to make sure he’s not listening. “But I promise I’ll take you to dinner to that other place when I don’t look like a raccoon”

“You don’t have to” 

“I kinda want to see you in a dress, all fancy like that time you left for another date” you smile at the memory of how beautiful she looked.

Wanda’s heart bursts with the way you look at her, complete adoration in your eyes. She’s almost left speechless, but her phone saves her. 

“It’s my brother” she apologizes, taking the call. “Hi, Pietro. No, I’m not with them. Because, I’m out. Of course with a babysitter, stupid” she rolls her eyes, and then switches to a language that you don’t understand, but sounds like Russian. You look at her in awe, until Samir calls for you to get the food. By the time you’re back at the table, Wanda already hung up.

“Sorry about that” 

“No, don’t worry. I guess I never asked, but are you Russian?”

“Sokovian” she corrects. “We moved to the States when Pietro and I were ten” 

“Wow. I never… you don’t even have an accent” 

“It slips up from time to time, especially if I’m angry or… flustered” Wanda says, and you almost choke on the food, thinking of all the ways you could make it come out. 

“Oh, well” you clear your throat. “Is your brother ok?”

“Yeah, he wanted to ask the boys something about video games that I don’t understand. I’m sure you would” 

“I don’t know, my knowledge is limited to things that existed when I was a kid. How’s the food?”

“Amazing. Wow” Wanda says, pleased with the flavor of the meat and how it compliments the rice and dips.

“See? We’re good enough for a first date” Samir shouts from the kitchen.

“Stop listening to our conversation” you shout back and he grumbles. Wanda smiles, thinking of something she’s wanted to ask for a while now.

“Do you ever visit your family?” 

“No, not really” you shake your head. “I pretty much left for college and never returned. Except this one Christmas, where I was feeling kind of lonely and tired. I just wanted to be home, but everything was so different, my half siblings were just too much to handle for anyone… and I didn’t even know what to do, no one bought me a present because I was never around and they just thought I’d be gone like last year”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked…”

“It’s fine” you shrug your shoulders. “I know it’s weird, but I like my life, you know? My colleagues are great, I’m doing what I love… and if I hadn’t moved here, I wouldn’t have met you”

“Yeah, that’s true. It’s their loss” Wanda smiles, kissing you. You smile against her lips. “You can always spend the holidays with us, you know? I mean, it’s too soon to talk about it, I’m just saying”

“That would be nice” you interrupt her rambling. “Now, I have something very important to ask. Out of all the neighbors, which one is the most annoying and why?”

“Well, I’d say it’s… Agatha”

“Harkness! Yes! I knew you disliked her too” 

Wanda laughs and you keep the conversation going. By the time you’re done, you pay and leave a big tip for Samir, who gives you a hug as you leave the store.

“I’m so full” Wanda says, patting her stomach. 

“I know. Oh, you want ice cream?” you say, remembering the gelato store that is a few shops ahead. 

“You just said you were full!”

“It’s ice cream, come on” you take her hand, and pay for two cones. Wanda orders strawberry while you opt for chocolate.

“How is it?” you ask as you walk down the pier, enjoying the view. 

“Amazing, have some” she offers the cone, but you kiss her instead. “That’s not what I meant” Wanda laughs against your lips.

“Well, it tastes amazing to me” you say, leaning forward and chasing after her soft lips, the flavor lingering as you deepen the kiss. Wanda sighs against your mouth, pulling you closer until your hand goes down her waist. “Best ice cream I’ve ever had” 

“Yeah” Wanda nods, her eyes closed. You peck her lips one last time, and continue your walk, still talking about everything you can think of, enjoying each other’s company.

When she checks the time more than once you get the hint, ready to go home.

“I’m sorry, I’m just being annoying, we can stay longer” 

“It’s ok, I know you like to be home early. Come on, we can drink wine or I’ll let you go to bed”

You rest your hand on Wanda’s leg for the entire ride home, unaware that your touch is making the woman restless. When you’re close to your house, you stop exactly where you picked Wanda up.

“I can just park at home, right? The boys are probably asleep”

“Yeah” Wanda nods, flustered. You’re about to ask what’s wrong when she moves forward, pulling you down for a rough kiss that takes your breath away. It’s a bit messy and desperate, and you ignore the strain of your seatbelt as Wanda pulls you closer to her, sighing against your mouth.

“You can’t park here!” an annoying person knocks on your window and you both break apart. “Oh, my! Wanda? Doctor Y/L/N?”

Damn it, it’s Agatha Harkness. Your nosy, annoying neighbor. Rolling down the window and smoothing your clothes, you smile at her.

“Hey, Miss Harkness. Sorry, I’ll move right now” 

“No, don’t worry” she gives you a sly smile. “Have a good night, you two love birds”

“Night, Agatha” Wanda says and you turn on the car, finally parking in your driveway.

“That was fun” you comment, opening the door for Wanda and crossing the street to walk her home.

“Yeah, just our luck” Wanda laughs, taking your hand. “Wanna come in? Or do you have to work tomorrow?”

“Not until Saturday. Come on” you let her lead you to her house, opening the door as quietly as possible. Wanda sees Morgan at the kitchen table, doing her homework.

“How did everything go?”

“Great, they went to sleep an hour ago” 

“Morgan Stark?” you greet, closing the door behind you. 

“You two know each other?” Wanda says.

“Yeah, my parents work at the hospital with Doctor Y/L/N” Morgan says, waving at you. “Nice to see you” 

“Did you drive here? Or want me to take you home?” 

“It’s fine, I drove here” she says, and you hand over some money before Wanda can pay her. 

“Drive safely, ok? Don’t want your dad giving me crap on the next meeting”

“Will do. Good night, Miss Maximoff”

“Night, Morgan”

“You didn’t have to pay for that too” Wanda says, kissing you. “But thank you” 

“Anytime. How do you know Morgan?” you nod when she offers you a glass of wine and you walk to the living room with her.

“I’m giving her private art lessons. She’s really good. Had no idea her parents were doctors”

“Not just any doctors, baby” you say, taking a sip. “Tony’s father built the hospital we work in. And he’s done some amazing research in neurosurgery. Pepper is also one of the best plastic surgeons in the world” 

“Wow, Morgan is so sweet and down to Earth”

“She gets that from her mom, Tony can be an ass” you mutter and Wanda laughs. “So, did I secure a second date?”

“A third one as well. But only if I can pay for the next one”

“Nu-uh. I’m spoiling you, baby” you say, your hand going to her leg. You notice how Wanda’s cheeks turn red, and you’re not sure if it’s the nickname or the contact. “Come here”

You take her glass of wine, approaching her slowly and kissing her. It’s tender at first, but then your hands travel to her lower back, and Wanda moans against your mouth. You deepen the kiss, sighing when she pushes you on your back, climbing on top of you.

Wanda kisses down your neck, biting slightly. The sudden nip makes your hips jolt forward, and she has to hold back another moan.

“I don’t know how you do it” she says, shivering when your hands travel down and cup her ass through her jeans.

“Do what, baby?”

“Drive me crazy with just one touch”

“Let me take care of you” you ask, kissing her, your hands going all the way to the front of her pants.

“Mom?”

“Shit” she mutters, both of her hands covering your mouth. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“I’m thirsty,” Tommy says.

“Alright, don’t come down, I’ll be right there, ok?” she says, hoping the boy hasn’t noticed anything strange. But he’s too sleepy so he just agrees and returns to his room. “I’m sorry”

She removes her hands from your mouth, helping you up.

“It’s fine, I enjoy the choking but just give me a heads up”

“Stop” she says, blushing. “I’ll be right back. Unless, you want to go? I’m sorry”

“I can stay” you nod, smiling at her disheveled state.

“Alright, I’ll be back” Wanda promises, pecking your lips.

You sit up, fixing your hair and taking a sip of the wine to calm down.

“Everything ok?” you say as Wanda comes down. She nods, smiling and sitting next to you.

“Yeah, I just didn’t think they’d be up. Maybe… we could wait a bit? When I’m not worried about the boys walking in on anything”

“Of course. Come here” you open your arms, and she settles, leaning her head against your shoulder. You kiss her temple. “Wanna watch some tv?”

“What about a sitcom? I love watching those”

“Like Friends?”

“Like Bewitched or… The Dick Van Dyke show” she says and you laugh, completely caught off guard by the suggestion.

“You’re fascinating, Wanda Maximoff” you say, handing over the remote, ready to watch whatever she wants.

[allmoshnobrain]

You're a short girl, and sometimes that messes with your confidence. Your boyfriend doesn't seem to care at all, though.

✦ on this fic: simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader, fluff, reader is short and it makes her a bit insecure

✦ a/n: this is my first time writing for anything other than metallica/megadeth/venom which is what i usually write for but i've been daydreaming a lot about this man and needed to get this out of my system 😭 also it was a great way to warm up and start writing again after my break!! hope u guys enjoy it 💖

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It takes him a while to pick up on your insecurity.

It's subtle, and honestly, he’s not exactly great with subtle. He fails, at first, to catch the way you pout, the way you frown whenever you see a hot actress who’s taller than you, or a long dress you think would look better on someone with a few more inches.

He finally catches on, though, one night when you’re cooking dinner. It’s kind of a slip up, really — a tiring day and your period cramps the worst they’ve been in the last few hours just making it easier for you to get upset over the smallest thing. So when you can’t reach one of the trays on the top shelf and have to ask him to grab it, he turns around to see you teary-eyed and upset, which is not how this usually goes.

“Love?” he asks, his brow furrowing when he sees your state “What’s wrong?” He glances at the glass tray in his hands. “Did I grab the wrong one?”

“What? No, no, it’s fine,” you mutter, his confused look quickly shifting into worry when he notices the tears in your eyes.

“Hey,” he quickly puts the tray down and gently grabs your chin. “Talk to me. What is it?”

He’s firm, straightforward but not harsh, which just makes you feel even more ridiculous for almost crying over something so dumb.

“I’m being silly,” you say, but he shakes his head. 

“Don’t say that,” he mutters. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

That last part sounds almost like a command, his voice all firm and serious — something that would probably annoy you if he didn’t sound so genuinely concerned. You sigh.

“I wish I was taller,” you whisper, hoping he wouldn’t hear it, but he does. Of course he does.

“You wish you were taller?” he repeats, now more confused than worried. “Why?”

“I just don’t want to feel useless, always needing your help,” you half-lie, because that’s not really it.  And of course, Simon knows — he always does. You can tell by the way he raises his eyebrow slightly at you, disarming you instantly. “I wish I was prettier,” you finally mutter.

“You are pretty,” he says slowly, like he’s still trying to figure out where all this is coming from. “You’re beautiful. And I like helping you.”

“But tall girls are… More beautiful,” you sniffle, and he snorts.

“Who said that?”

“I said,” you frown. “Like, every time I see a cute dress that’s too long, I just think I can’t wear it. It won’t look right on me. I always feel like I can only look cute, but sometimes I want to look, I don’t know, gorgeous. Tall girls just always seem to look gorgeous to me, and I...”

“Oh, shush,” Simon grumbles, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. He tilts your chin up gently so you’re looking at him. “You are gorgeous. And you’re beautiful, and you’re mine. And I like you small — easier to hold.”

You can’t help but laugh. It’s shaky, and you try to hold it back, wanting to stay in your little pity party a bit longer. I mean, seriously, what does he mean by "you’re gorgeous" when you feel the exact opposite?

"Easier to hold?" you say, trying to sound offended but failing as a giggle slips out.

"There she is," he hums, kissing the corner of your mouth, and that’s when you realize you’re smiling. "My girl. Don’t be upset, love. You don’t need to be taller to be pretty. And if you ever need to reach for something, well, that’s what I’m here for."

“You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend,” you tease. He lets out an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not.”

“You are!”

“Goddammit, woman. Will you quit trying to convince me you’re not beautiful? It’s not happening,” he frowns, then leans in, pressing a small, tender kiss to your lips. His arms wrapped around you are comfortable, warm and firm and feel like home.

It never fails to disarm you, how soft he can be. Out of the blue, always when you’re not really expecting it. Just when you think you’ve finally managed to annoy him or maybe this is the time he’s gonna get tired of you. He never fails to prove you wrong. 

He never fails to prove that he loves you, just the way you are.

[suhkusa]

As you weave through the crowd of people, there’s only one person on your mind.

The two of you have been talking for a month already, and while you were the one who wanted to take it slow, your feelings were growing stronger by the minute.

If it were anyone else, it might’ve taken a while for you to warm up to him. But you’ve been with Atsumu for most of your life, so there was no need to “get to know him”. Of course, you had your doubts because of his promiscuous past, but at the end of the day you didn’t color him to be the type to commit to a relationship unless he really wanted to.

So that’s why you find yourself looking for the team’s locker room, ready to congratulate him.

But it’s not his voice that stops you in your tracks. You don’t recognize it, so you assume it’s a team mate you’ve never met.

“So, Y/N,” the guy says. And just the mention of your name makes you want to make your presence known. But something holds you back.

Atsumu is the one who replies, “What about her?”

“Did you finally fuck her?”

This could just be normal men’s locker room banter but something about the way he said it is throwing you off. Was it his tone? The word “finally”?

There’s a sound of fabric being moved around before Atsumu laughs with a “Yeah,”

The other guy laughs a bit following his response, “I remember you used to talk about how she was hard to get, so I’m surprised you actually managed to get her,”

If your heart hadn’t sunk yet, it definitely did now.

Atsumu laughs again. At some point you found his laugh endearing, but right now it’s feeding into your hurt. 

“I guess your little mission or whatever is complete,” 

You tune out the rest of the conversation. You don’t care to hear it, or hear him. You just don’t care. 

The tears that had been welling up in your eyes are threatening to spill, but you look up and blink to hold them in. Not right now.

Your legs move to back up but you bump into something— or someone.

“Y/N?”

BOTH AIN’T SH!T — ALL OFFENSE

PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

NOTES.

sorry yall

osamu did spend the night

y/n decided not to attend the 2nd day

^ she spent it with her friends telling them what happened

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Big News

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: You have a surprise for Bucky.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Hey!” You bounce up to the table. It’s funny how Bucky can look so intent. So gloomy in the midst of the bustling cafe. He sits up as he puts his phone down on the table. “I’m sorry I’m late. I got great news!” 

“Oh?” His brows lower, “well, you’re double sugar frappa-whatever is melting.” 

He points across the table as you sit and roll your eyes. 

“If you tried it, you wouldn’t be making fun of me. They are delicious!” You put your purse in your lap and take a long slurp through the straw. You pop your lips off and let out and ‘ahhhhh’. You smile at him as he gives you that look. 

“I don’t take sugar in my coffee and you barely take coffee in your sugar,” he drones. 

You giggle. He's always so grumpy about the smallest things. 

“News?” He prompts dully. 

“Right,” you wiggle in your seat. “I got you a date!” 

He twitches and tilts his head, “a date?” He gives you a cautious look and shifts in his seat. “Uh...” 

“Yes! This lawyer lady I know. I met her at a trivia night way back and added her on Insta. Well, I saw her post the other day and I was like how did I not think of this before?” 

“Lawyer?” He mutters. “I... you’re setting me up with a stranger?” 

“It’s a blind date. It’s fun. She’s really established and smart and beautiful. Oh my god, she posted this picture of her in a bikini—I could never wear something like that.” You get your phone out and he sighs. 

“Wait, why did you do that?” He grits. 

You look above the screen at him, “well, you said the other day that you get lonely. That’s why you have Alpine, right? And she’s so sweeeeet,” you drag out the word in adoration, “but you need someone you can talk to. Who can talk back.” 

“We talk,” he insists. 

“Yes, but we’re friends. You need someone your own age. Or closer to.” 

“Wait, how old is she?” He wonders. 

“Aha, you’re interested,” you point at him accusatorily. 

“I’m asking questions.” 

“Right, she’s... fifty something? She doesn’t look it. Like you. You don’t look... uh... 1917... carry the one...”  

“Stop that,” he demands. “I know how goddamn old I am.” 

“Ha, yeah, sorry, I...” you scroll through your Insta friends. “Here!” You turn the phone to him and beam a smile in his direction. He glances at it for a split second and shrugs. He sits back and drinks his coffee.

“I’m not really... in that scene,” he says. 

“You should get out there! I mean, you can’t bring Sam and Steve to dinner all the time. You need someone--” 

“Is this what it’s about? Because I showed up at the restaurant?” He asks. 

“No, it’s-- I’m being a friend. You two are so alike and she loves old movies and motorcycles. I could never! I'd fall off or not tie my helmet right,” you chuckle. 

“Dreamy,” he growls. 

“Bucky,” you whine back. “You gotta get out and have some fun.” 

“We have fun,” he counters. 

“We do and that’s awesome—Oh, okay, how about, I got an idea! A double date.” 

“A double—you have... a boyfriend?” He taps the porcelain cup with his metal fingertip. 

“Ha, no way. But I could find someone to come along. Just so you’re not alone. There’s a few guys at the restaurant I’m sure would go for a free meal or I mean I know other cute girls. I’m not picky.” 

He closes his eyes and a line forms between his brows. He pinches his nose and squares his shoulders. “Where the hell did you come up with the idea that I wanted to date?” 

“I...” you sit back and your smile falls. His blue eyes flick open as he drops his hand. The dimple in his cheek ticks. “I’m sorry, I thought it was—I was... trying to be a good friend.” 

He stares at you and the stone slowly eases from his jaw. He looks down and back up. He huffs. 

“I’m sorry, dreamy,” he says, “it’s just been a while for me. Not that I haven’t thought of it, you know? But I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” He shakes his head and glances around the cafe. “The last time I dance with a dame was a goddamn USO tour in 1945.” 

That hits you like a sixteen-wheeler. You didn’t know that. You didn’t think of it. He’s been in this world for a while and he’s handsome and a superhero! You just though he’d have lots of people interested. Charlize sure seemed excited when you asked. 

“And now you’re looking at me like I’m a loser because I haven’t kissed a gal in 80 years--” 

“No, you’re not a loser. If you are, then I am.” 

“Come on, you don’t gotta--” 

“Really. I never kissed anyone. Not lying.” 

He shakes his head and scoffs, “oh no, you’re not lying to make me feel better.” 

You put on your most sober face, “Bucky, I swear,” your cheeks burn and you put your hands on your neck. “I mean... it would be nice I’m sure but it just never came up.” He looks at you quietly. You squirm. “I know you can hear that I’m telling the truth.” 

“Yeah, I know,” he accepts at last. He crosses his arms and clicks his tongue, “fine. If you’re going to suffer through it, I will too.” He looks away as his jaw tenses, “if you’re going to keep pulling that puppy dog face, one day, it’s gonna wear off.” 

“Yes! Bucky’s got a date! Bucky’s got a date!” You sing out of tune. 

“Stop,” he snarls and narrows his eyes at you. You wince and giggle.  

“Yay!” You put your hands up in a demure celebration and he tuts. 

“You’re so cheesy,” he sneers. 

“And you’re a party pooper. No moping on date night, got it?” You try to put on a stern face and he squints even harder. Finally, he cracks and gives a chuckle. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he sniffs. “You and tough, don’t go together.” 

[sidekick-hero]

it isn’t over, it’s just begun

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember (prompts: backseat | clothes on | soft and slow | bruise) and @softsteddieseptember (prompt: Road Trip). This is super late, I'm sorry.

The biggest thank you to @firefly-party for reading over this and helping me make sense of English grammar and tenses. UGH.

6k | rated: e | warnings: (consensual) blood drinking | tags: vampire!eddie, monsterfucker!steve, dry humping, Steve takes care of Eddie

Read on AO3

“I’m dead, Harrington, not deaf! Haven’t I been through enough? Do you have to torture me with… with this? Crappy music from an even crappier movie? And here I thought we were friends!”

Eddie’s voice grew louder as he ranted, his hands flapping dramatically, his wide brown eyes sparkling under the streetlamps they passed. For someone technically dead, he was so alive—full of energy and life in every way that mattered. Even with his too-sharp teeth, translucent skin, and the absence of a pulse, he was still, well, Eddie.

Not that Eddie agreed.

That’s why they were here now, on this strange road trip to Washington D.C. to meet some friend of Owens who supposedly had a solution for him. How, Steve wasn’t sure. And if he was being honest, he didn’t entirely trust this friend—or Owens, for that matter. They’d been screwed over too many times, and Steve wasn’t about to risk Eddie’s… non-life.

Eddie seemed on edge too, fidgeting and talking too fast, too loud, confined in the tight space of Steve’s trusty BMW.

“If the movie’s so crappy, how do you know Take My Breath Away is in it, huh?” Steve countered, smirking, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

As expected, the question left Eddie sputtering, before he huffed and crossed his arms, pouting.

Steve took pity and turned the volume down, but not before belting out the chorus at the top of his lungs. He couldn’t help but enjoy the way Eddie looked at him, his attention fixed solely on Steve. If he were being honest, that’s all he’d been craving lately—Eddie’s gaze, his words, his touch.

Steve was down bad.

They’d been driving for six hours, and Steve could feel the toll it was taking on him. He still wasn’t sleeping well—nightmares keeping him awake more often than not. The only thing that brought him any real comfort was when Eddie came back from his nightly hunts. It should’ve felt strange that the only time Steve truly felt safe from the horrors of the Upside Down was when the one "monster" they hadn’t killed or sent back to the alternate dimension was taking a shower in his en suite bathroom before crawling into bed with him.

Not that Steve thought of Eddie as a monster—just because he looked a little different and needed blood to survive didn’t make him one.

The only one who saw Eddie that way was Eddie himself. It had taken weeks to convince him to let them anywhere near him, constantly reassuring him that they knew he wouldn’t hurt them, that they loved him.

Eddie had only agreed to stop hiding in the woods if Steve was there, nail bat in hand, ready to strike at the first sign of danger.

That’s why Eddie was living with him now. And that’s why Steve was the one driving him to Washington to meet this friend of Owens.

“You don’t look so hot, Stevie.”

“Geez, tell me how you really feel, Munson,” Steve shot back, only slightly annoyed. Eddie sounded more worried than anything.

Eddie raised his hands in mock surrender, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Relax, you always look hot, big boy. But right now? You look beat. Wanna take a break?”

A break didn’t sound bad at all, Steve thought. Just to rest his eyes for a bit.

“Not your worst idea,” he conceded, much to Eddie’s delight.

Eddie’s voice turned theatrical as he declared, “I only have good ideas, I’ll have you know.”

Steve’s reply came without thinking. “Sacrificing yourself to the bats wasn’t.” The weight of his words hit him the moment the silence in the car became deafening—not even the sound of Eddie’s breathing, which was more habit than necessity, broke the tension.

Shit.

“Eddie, I’m sorry—”

“It’s fine,” Eddie cut him off, his voice flat, the humor gone. “There’s a path over there, leading off the road. Take it. We can park at the edge of the woods. You can rest, and I’ll... hunt.”

Eddie’s whole demeanor screamed for him to drop it. As much as Steve hated the tense silence hanging between them, he didn’t know what to say to make it better. He was sorry for how his words had come out, but the truth was, he’d meant them. Part of him knew it wasn’t fair—he hated what Eddie had done, but he also knew that, in Eddie’s place, he would’ve done the exact same thing. Saving Dustin, buying them time. Sacrificing himself because what was his life compared to theirs, compared to the world?

If Steve was being honest with himself, he’d admit that it wasn’t Eddie he was truly angry at—it was himself. He should have been there. He should’ve been smarter, faster. Better. But he wasn’t. He let them fend for themselves, and this was the result.

The car swayed as it rumbled down the gravel path, pulling him back from his spiraling thoughts. What happened, happened. There was no changing it now. The only thing they could do was deal with the aftermath.

Steve parked the car in a secluded spot, hidden from the road to give them some privacy. The second the car stopped, Eddie swung the door open and disappeared into the woods without a word. Steve sat there, staring after him, regret settling like a weight in his chest.

With a heavy sigh, Steve pushed open his door and went around to grab his nail bat and a blanket from the trunk. He crawled into the backseat, balling up his jacket as a makeshift pillow. The bat went under the driver’s seat, just in case, and he pulled the blanket over himself. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, and with the weight of guilt in his stomach and his mind racing, he doubted he’d be able to fall asleep.

But sleep had other plans. It claimed him within seconds, and as usual, Eddie was the last thing on his mind before darkness wrapped around him like a lover.

He came back to himself slowly, like wading through thick molasses, his senses gradually returning one by one. First, there was the awareness inside his body. He was thirsty. Hungry, too. A dull headache throbbed at his temples, and his neck ached from the awkward position he’d slept in. Everything pointed to him having slept far longer than he’d intended.

Next came his hearing—dulled ever since Billy Hargrove had taken a plate to his head, but still somewhat functional. He could make out the distant hoot of an owl and, if he concentrated, the faint sound of cars speeding by on the nearby road. Then there was something else—a rustling sound, faint and close by. He had to strain to hear it, and might’ve missed it if not for how near it was.

Steve kept his eyes closed, everything feeling too heavy and far away. But now, cautiously, he cracked them open just enough to survey his surroundings without alerting any potential threats.

The car was dark; the sun had set a while ago, from the looks of it. At first glance, it seemed like he was alone, and worry crept in about Eddie. But then the rustling sound came again, and this time his eyes landed on its source. Someone was sitting in the passenger seat, trembling violently.

“Eds?” Steve’s voice came out scratchy from sleep. He swallowed and tried again, softer this time. “Are you alright?”

The figure in the front seat—who Steve hoped was Eddie, though who else could it be—shook its head but remained silent. As Steve blinked the sleep from his eyes and they adjusted to the darkness, more details came into focus. Eddie was hunched over, knees pulled tightly to his chest, his feet up on the upholstery. Normally, Steve would’ve complained, but right now all that mattered was making sure Eddie was okay.

“Eddie, please, talk to me. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

He sat up and reached out to touch Eddie’s arm, but the moment his fingers grazed the fabric of Eddie’s jacket, Eddie recoiled, scrambling as far as the small space of the car would allow.

“Don’t,” Eddie rasped, his voice raw and jagged, almost unrecognizable.

Ignoring the warning, Steve inched closer, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “Eddie,” he repeated softly, using the name again because he remembered the first time they encountered this version of Eddie—feral, lost, barely recognizing them. Nancy had said to repeat his name often, to remind him of who he was. It became a habit Steve hadn’t been able to shake entirely.

“Whatever it is, you can tell me. Did something happen while you were hunting?” Steve’s stomach twisted at the thought. What if Eddie had hurt someone? Lost control to the instincts he barely understood? He should’ve been worried about whoever Eddie might’ve harmed—and he was, he was—but more than anything, he worried about what that guilt would do to Eddie. That it would push him to retreat, make him decide that he couldn’t be around people anymore. That he’d leave them.

Leave Steve.

At Steve’s question, Eddie finally looked up, and their eyes met. Steve’s heart lurched. Eddie's eyes were no longer the warm, familiar brown. They were red.

A whimper escaped Steve’s lips before he could stop it, and Eddie’s face—what little Steve could make out—twisted in what looked like pain. Steve realized, too late, that his involuntary reaction had struck at Eddie’s worst fear: that they saw him as the monster he believed himself to be.

“’M sorry, Eds,” Steve stammered, rushing to correct himself. “You just surprised me, that’s all. I’m not scared of you, I swear. I’m just worried for you. Let me help, please.”

With his back pressed against the glove compartment, cowering in the cramped footwell of the passenger seat, Eddie let out a dark, humorless laugh. “You have no idea what you’re asking, Steve. You should just take that trusty bat of yours and bash my head in. That’s the only way you can help.” His voice cracked, raw with desperation. “I… I don’t want to be a monster.”

“I’m not doing that, Eddie.” Steve’s voice was steady, even as his heart hammered in his chest. “You’re not a monster. You’re our friend.”

Eddie let out a bitter sigh, his hand fumbling for the car's overhead light. When it flicked on, Steve’s breath caught in his throat. Eddie looked more monstrous than ever—the sharpness of his teeth more pronounced, his skin drawn tight and pale, dark veins spidering beneath the surface. His red eyes glowed unnaturally in the dim light, and his trembling grew worse.

“I haven’t eaten in days,” Eddie confessed, his voice low and filled with shame. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to kill any of the animals out there. And tonight, when I finally got desperate enough to try… there were hunters in the woods.” He clenched his jaw, as if disgusted with himself. “I couldn’t risk it, Steve. I had to retreat before I hurt them. Before I would have... lost control.”

Steve’s heart twisted at the sight of Eddie—so vulnerable, yet fighting desperately to stay in control. It hurt to see the raw fear in his friend’s eyes, especially when there seemed to be nothing that Steve could do to make it better. There had to be something. Anything.

Eddie’s refusal to feed explained why the monstrous side of him was becoming more pronounced, more visible. The hunger must be unbearable by now, gnawing at him from the inside out. Yet, Eddie—the stubborn idiot—was willing to suffer rather than hurt another living thing. How anyone could see a monster in someone so kind, so selfless, was beyond Steve. He knew without a doubt that Eddie would starve himself to death before ever harming anyone.

But maybe it didn’t have to come to that. Not if Steve had anything to say about it.

“Maybe…” Steve began, choosing his words carefully, “you don’t have to control it.” At Eddie’s incredulous look, he quickly added, “I mean, what if you let yourself have blood—from someone willing to give it to you? You wouldn’t have to hurt anyone if it was, you know, consensual.”

Eddie blinked, his wide, reddish-brown eyes staring at Steve in disbelief.

“Could you repeat that? Because for a second there, it sounded like you were suggesting I should be drinking blood from a person.”

“It sounded that way because that’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” Steve said, keeping his tone calm. “Not just any person—someone who’d let you do it, of course.”

Eddie’s expression hardened as his voice rose, anger mixing with incredulity. “Are you out of your mind? You’re suggesting I just walk up to someone and be like, ‘Hey, can I get some consensual blood-sucking in? I can’t promise it won’t hurt, but you’d be doing me a real favor.’ Is that what you’re suggesting?”

The flare of anger in Eddie’s voice was almost a relief. It was familiar, a sign that somewhere under all that fear, the Eddie Steve knew was still there. Steve would take Eddie’s frustration over the emptiness he’d seen in him any day.

“Of course not,” Steve replied, his lips curling into a smile as Eddie’s shoulders sagged a little. “I’m suggesting you drink from me.”

You could’ve heard a pin drop in that moment, even with Steve’s less-than-perfect hearing. He was certain Eddie had even stopped breathing, not that he needed to. Eddie just stared at Steve like he’d suggested they strip naked, douse themselves in glitter, and run sparkling through the streets of Hawkins.

“Did you hear me? I. Want. You. To. Drink. From. Me,” Steve repeated, enunciating each word with deliberate conviction.

Eddie was already shaking his head before Steve had even finished speaking. “No! No, no, no. Absolutely not. You’re insane. I—Steve, please, no.”

It was like Eddie was going through the stages of grief—anger, denial, and bargaining. Robin had explained those to him once, and now Steve was watching them unfold before his eyes.

He knew he couldn’t force Eddie to do it, no matter how desperately he wanted to. The truth gnawed at him: a part of Steve didn’t just want Eddie to feel better; he wanted to be the one who made Eddie feel better. And wasn’t that a messed-up thing to feel?

“Please, man. You’re dying. I can see it, and you can’t go on like this much longer.”

The look of utter defeat was painful enough, but it was the resignation in Eddie’s eyes that twisted the knife deeper into Steve’s heart.

“I’m already dead, Steve,” Eddie said quietly. “I died that night, and I shouldn’t have come back. Not like this. I don’t want to live as a monster. If I don’t feed, maybe I can at least die as a human.”

His words were calm, as though Eddie had made peace with his fate, but the sadness lurking behind them hit Steve like a truck.

It made him furious.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re seriously gonna sit there, look me in the eye, and tell me it’d be better if you were dead?” Steve’s voice shook with raw emotion. “Newsflash, asshole—if you die, it would destroy the kids. Dustin worships your scrawny ass. Mike tries to grow his hair like yours. Max would play D&D just to have you DM the game. And it’s not just them. Nancy. Robin. Me. Did you ever think about that? We need you, Eddie. So don’t you dare say it’d be better if you died, because it wouldn’t. It wouldn’t!”

His chest heaved with the effort of getting the words out, his anger mingling with desperation. But as the weight of his outburst settled, Steve felt something shift—like a festering wound finally being drained. It left him raw, but somehow… cleaner.

For a second, he thought it had worked. Eddie moved toward him slowly, his hand outstretched. Steve noticed the darkened tips of Eddie’s fingers, the sharpness of his nails, more menacing than they’d been just hours ago. But Steve didn’t flinch. He stayed exactly where he was, letting Eddie come closer.

Eddie didn’t bite him. Instead, his fingertips grazed Steve’s cheek, soft as a summer breeze. “You’re crying?” Eddie’s voice was a disbelieving whisper, like he couldn’t fathom that the thought of losing him could bring Steve to tears.

“I don’t wanna lose you,” Steve whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. He didn’t care if Eddie could see everything he was feeling now—all the love and fear, laid bare for him to witness. If it meant Eddie would accept his help, if it meant Eddie would stay, then Steve would give him everything.

“You really mean it.” The wonder in Eddie’s voice made Steve smile, because it was so unmistakably Eddie.

“For someone so smart, you can be incredibly thick. Yes, I mean it. Now would you please get over yourself and bite me already? Jeez.”

Eddie’s startled laugh told Steve he’d said the right thing. “You do know I repeated senior year three times, right?”

“Yeah, and we both know that had nothing to do with you being dumb, dumbass.”

They both grinned at each other, the kind of goofy smiles that made Steve’s chest feel light. In that moment, all Steve wanted was to lean in and kiss Eddie—just close the gap and see what it felt like to finally do it.

But before he could act on that impulse, Eddie’s face suddenly twisted in pain.

“Eddie? Are you okay? What’s happening?” Steve’s voice rose with the anxiety building in his chest.

Through clenched teeth, Eddie managed, “I’m so hungry and you—” He stopped, squeezing his eyes shut.

“You what? Come on, man, I thought we were having a moment here. Talk to me!”

Eddie groaned, clearly struggling, and finally blurted out, “You smell so fucking good, okay? Happy now? You smell good enough to eat and it hurts.”

The weight of Eddie’s words hung in the small space between them, thick with tension. Steve had been through enough—beaten, tortured, fighting interdimensional monsters while babysitting a pack of troublemakers. He’d earned something good in his life, damn it. And if that “something good” was Eddie Munson biting him and drinking his blood to stay alive, then so be it. Steve Harrington would take it.

"Almost," Steve growled, his patience finally snapping. He framed Eddie’s face with his hands, pulling him forward into a kiss that had been months in the making. And Eddie went willingly—no, eagerly—letting Steve lick into his mouth with a muffled, desperate moan.

Without breaking the kiss, Steve leaned back, pulling Eddie with him into the back seat. Eddie followed without hesitation, lips still fused to Steve’s as if they couldn’t bear to part. Maybe it was Eddie’s newfound abilities, or maybe the kiss had awakened some hidden grace, but somehow, Eddie managed to climb into the back with him without so much as a stumble.

The heat between them was electric like a thunderstorm, a shiver of pure need running through Steve’s body.

As they sank onto the cool leather, Eddie’s weight pressed down on him, and for the first time in what felt like forever, something settled in Steve’s chest too—a deep sense of peace. He had craved this closeness for so long, the feeling of Eddie with him, on him.

“Eddie,” Steve moaned, finally pulling back to gasp for air. The moment their lips parted, though, he felt Eddie tense above him, realization dawning in his eyes. The danger of being so close to Steve, so close to his pulse, his heart pounding from desire, the blood rushing beneath his skin—it obviously hit Eddie like a freight train.

Steve knew if he didn’t act fast, Eddie would pull away, put distance between them when all Steve wanted was to be even closer. So he took the leap, pushing Eddie’s face toward his neck just as he wedged his thigh between Eddie’s legs.

“Please, baby,” Steve breathed, voice low and thick with want. “I need you to bite me. I want it. I want you.”

He didn’t care that he was begging—he only cared that Eddie wouldn’t leave him.

“Steve—” Eddie’s voice was strained, pained, and Steve felt the sharp graze of a fang against the sensitive skin of his neck.

Steve didn’t give him time to second-guess. He pressed his thigh upward, right against the growing bulge in Eddie’s jeans, and the movement knocked Eddie off balance. He fell forward, right into Steve’s arms, and Steve held him tight, refusing to let him pull away.

“I know you want to, so do it,” Steve urged, breath coming in shallow bursts. When Eddie still hesitated, Steve rocked his hips up and clawed at Eddie’s back, desperation leaking into his voice. “Do it!”

And then, finally—Eddie gave in. With a groan that was half-pain, half-relief, he sank his teeth into Steve’s neck.

It hurt.

But the pain wasn’t the worst part. No, the worst was the sucking—the sensation of blood being drawn from his veins. It felt foreign, unnatural, mixing with the burning throb of the open wound on his neck. The combination made his head spin, disorienting him in a way he hadn’t anticipated.

Yet somehow, despite—or maybe because of—the intensity of those sensations, Steve was painfully hard. His cock strained against his Levi’s, which already felt tight on a normal day. Now, they were almost unbearable, constricting, and he half-wondered if they’d cut off circulation to his legs soon.

It was confusing, how his body reacted to Eddie feeding on him, but what really sent shivers down his spine were the sounds Eddie was making. Quiet, needy moans muffled by Steve’s neck, soft hums of pleasure that Eddie probably wasn’t even aware of. And it wasn’t just that—Steve could feel Eddie mindlessly rutting against his thigh, the thick, hard length of him pressing into Steve like a promise.

Steve had never been this close to another guy’s hard-on before. The closest he’d come was watching Tommy H. jerk off beside him in his bedroom during a sleepover, Tommy’s eyes dark with something that had made Steve’s skin prickle. But this? This was so much better. It wasn’t just real—it was Eddie. And Steve had been halfway in love with him ever since that day when Eddie talked about Dustin, about how much the kid worshiped him, and how maybe Steve wasn’t such a bad guy after all.

The cramped space of the car was filled with the sound of their ragged breaths and soft moans, but they weren’t just Eddie’s anymore. Steve’s own sounds were growing louder by the second, the initial sting of pain transforming into a heady mix of heat and need. Each pull on his neck sent a pulse of pleasure straight down to his groin, making his cock twitch against the too-tight denim.

He had never felt anything like this before—this blend of pain and pleasure, of intimacy and raw need. And all he could think was how right it felt. How right Eddie felt.

Steve felt like he was drifting in a dream, the world around him soft and hazy, time slipping through his fingers like sand. He couldn’t tell how long it had been since Eddie’s teeth first pierced his skin—seconds, minutes, hours? Maybe even days. It was impossible to say, lost as he was in the slow, heated grind of their bodies. The friction between them pushed him higher and higher, though he wasn’t sure if it was the pleasure or the blood loss that had his head spinning. A distant part of his mind registered alarm at how weightless he felt, how far away everything seemed.

But Steve felt so good. Safe, even, wrapped in the arms of one of the most dangerous creatures he’d ever encountered.

It was Eddie who finally pulled back with a wet, slurping sound, his mouth leaving Steve’s neck as he gasped for breath. “Steve? Shit, Steve, come on, man, look at me.” Eddie’s cool hand cupped Steve’s cheek, shaking him gently, his fingers trembling as he turned Steve’s face to meet his gaze. When their eyes finally locked, Steve was relieved to see that the red had vanished entirely from Eddie’s eyes, replaced by the familiar warm brown that he had come to love.

“’ddie?” Steve slurred, his voice sounding weak, even to his own ears. He caught the worried look on Eddie’s face, the way his brows knit together and his lips pressed into a tight line, stained with drops of blood. My blood, Steve thought vaguely. Somehow, the idea didn’t bother him. Summoning the last bit of strength he had, Steve smiled and placed his hand over Eddie’s, still resting on his cheek. “’m fine. Promise.”

“You don’t look fine, Steve,” Eddie shot back, panic edging his voice. “You look like you’re about to pass out. Goddammit, why didn’t you stop me? Shit, I could’ve killed you.”

Eddie’s voice cracked with guilt, his words thick with fear and desperation. He sounded wrecked, not in the way the still-persistent throbbing in Steve’s groin suggested they both should be, but wrecked with the weight of what had just happened. But Steve didn’t care about that. He didn’t care that he was dizzy, or that his body felt light as a feather. What mattered was making Eddie understand that Steve wanted this. He wanted everything Eddie could give him—his hunger, his desire, his love. And in return, he wanted Eddie to take everything from him — his blood, his heart, hell, even his life. It was all Eddie’s for the taking.

A gasp slipped from Eddie’s lips, sharp and incredulous. “Eddie…” Steve’s voice was barely a whisper, his gaze soft and unwavering as he stared into Eddie’s wide, unblinking eyes.

“You don’t mean that,” Eddie whispered, his voice thick with disbelief.

Steve blinked, suddenly realizing he must have said it all out loud. Oops.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, right? So far, Steve’s gut instincts had always guided him right, more or less. He was still alive, wasn’t he? That was good enough in his book even if the Robin in his head was rolling her eyes at him.

“I mean it,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “I know you don’t believe me, but I do. I want you. All of you—the good, the bad, the ugly.” Steve’s lips curled into a smirk, mischief lighting his eyes. “And if you haven’t noticed…” He rolled his hips deliberately, making sure Eddie could feel just how much he wanted him. “I was really enjoying myself.” To drive his point home, he shifted his thigh, pressing it against the unmistakable evidence of Eddie’s arousal. Above him, Eddie’s face contorted in pleasure, a low moan rumbling from deep in his chest.

Gotcha, Steve thought with a smug little grin.

“And I think you liked it, too,” Steve continued, his voice dipping lower. “So why don’t you stop worrying and get us both off, huh? I’m not sure I can right now, so it’s the least you could do to make it up to me, don’t you think?”

It was a bold move, pretending to be nonchalant when, in reality, Steve felt like he was hanging on the edge of a cliff, waiting to see if Eddie would catch him or let him fall. His heart pounded in his chest, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still as he watched Eddie’s face—those deep, whiskey-brown eyes wide with surprise, disbelief, and something else that made Steve’s pulse race even faster.

Then, something happened that Steve did not see coming at all.

Eddie laughed.

Not just a chuckle, either, but a real, belly-deep laugh that shook his entire body. The anxiety that had been etched into his features for so long, the haunted look he’d worn since coming back from the dead, finally melted away. In its place, there was warmth, the corners of his eyes crinkling as laughter spilled from his lips, dimples flashing in a way that made Steve’s heart clench.

Eddie was so beautiful.

Eddie’s laughter faded, the echo of it lingering in the close confines of the car like the remnants of a shared secret. His gaze softened, the humor in his eyes shifting into something far more tender, far more vulnerable. “You’re unbelievable, Harrington,” he said, shaking his head, but this time his voice was filled with awe rather than disbelief. “Here you are, barely hanging on, and somehow you’re still making me feel flustered. What kind of guy are you?”

His fingers, cool but delicate, ghosted over Steve’s cheek, the sharpness of his nails a reminder of the monster Eddie thought he was. But the touch? That was all Eddie—the boy Steve had been falling for piece by piece. “You really want me to believe you’re okay with this? With me? After what I just did to you?”

Eddie’s voice wavered, his uncertainty spilling out despite the bravado. “You’re either the bravest or the dumbest guy I’ve ever met. Maybe both.”

Steve couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, one that matched Eddie’s in its softness, despite the tension hanging between them. “I don’t hear you telling me I’m wrong, man. We’ve been talking about me—what I want. But what about you?” He paused, his voice gentle but probing. “What do you want, Eddie?”

Eddie’s reply came without hesitation. “You.”

Steve’s heart stuttered in his chest while the butterflies in his stomach went wild. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Then have me.”

Blessedly, this time, Eddie didn’t argue. He didn’t hesitate or question whether he deserved this—deserved Steve. He just did what Steve asked.

Pushing himself up on one arm, Eddie moved his other hand from Steve’s cheek, letting it trail down to palm him through his jeans. The earlier intensity had faded slightly during their conversation, but the moment Eddie’s hand found him, it was like lighting a match to gasoline. Heat surged through Steve, reigniting everything Eddie had stirred up.

Eddie's grin widened, his sharp teeth gleaming as he looked down at Steve, the dangerous undertone of it a sharp contrast to the mischievous, boyish excitement that always pushed Steve to keep up with his contagious energy. “I knew you’d be packing, big boy,” Eddie teased, his voice full of admiration and humor. “And all this for lil’ old me?” His fingers squeezed experimentally before running along the length of him, feeling the way Steve’s body responded, hardening further under his touch.

Steve, still a little lightheaded from the blood loss—made worse now that more of his blood seemed to be rushing south—blinked up at Eddie, his thoughts scrambled. All he could do was press his hips up, seeking more friction, his body moving on instinct even if his brain was lagging behind.

His hips began to grind against Eddie’s hand, slowly at first, trying to find a rhythm as Eddie held back, teasing, not giving him the relief he craved. Words failed him, but his body knew exactly what it wanted, each roll of his hips desperate and pleading.

“Didn’t anyone ever—fuck—tell you not to play with your food?” Steve groaned, hips stuttering as Eddie’s touch continued its slow, maddening exploration. It was risky bringing up the fact Eddie had just fed from him, but the elephant in the room wasn’t going anywhere, so why not address it now, while they were both caught up in the heat of the moment?

Eddie paused for just a moment, his eyes searching Steve’s with an unreadable expression. Then, he laughed softly, the sound low and rough, sending a shiver through Steve's entire body. "Oh, sweetheart," Eddie murmured, leaning closer, his lips brushing against Steve’s ear. "You have no idea how much I want to devour you."

Before Steve could even process Eddie’s words, Eddie shifted, settling between his thighs. The new position aligned their hard cocks perfectly, and they both gasped at the intense sensation. Eddie leaned down, nosing along Steve’s jaw until his breath ghosted over Steve’s ear. “Thank you, Stevie,” he whispered.

Eddie's hips rolled slowly, expressing his gratitude with each movement, though Steve wasn’t sure what Eddie was thanking him for. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the electric friction between them, the delicious drag of flesh against flesh. The weight of Eddie’s body should have made Steve feel trapped, but instead, it just amplified his need, igniting something primal within him. He was prey—and he loved it.

That thought made him cling even tighter, his legs wrapping around Eddie's waist to increase the friction. Eddie’s pace quickened, hips thrusting with more purpose, slow but insistent, like they were making love for real. Like Eddie was buried deep inside him. And suddenly, that’s all Steve wanted—Eddie inside him, closer, always closer. His teeth in Steve’s neck, his cock in his body. He needed to feel everything.

Steve’s fingers dug into Eddie’s back, nails scratching against the thin fabric of his shirt in a desperate attempt to mark him, to claim him the way Eddie had claimed Steve with his bite. Eddie didn’t complain—if anything, the scratches seemed to spur him on. His breath hitched, and he let out a string of grunts and moans, the sounds vibrating against Steve’s skin as Eddie whispered praises into his ear. He called Steve brave, kind, selfless, and so, so pretty.

Steve had experienced some incredible sex in his life, but nothing compared to this—dry-humping Eddie Munson in the backseat of his car, bodies pressed together, breathless, and needy.

A familiar tightness coiled in his groin, his whole body tensing as he teetered on the edge of release. But something was missing.

“Bite me,” Steve begged, his voice high and needy, almost desperate.

Eddie whimpered, his hips stuttering for just a moment. “Steve—”

Not willing to let Eddie pull away, Steve’s hand gripped his ass, urging him to keep moving, while his other hand pressed against Eddie’s neck, guiding him closer to his own neck. “I’m close, baby, so close. Please.”

As Eddie's teeth sank into his flesh once more, Steve's vision blurred, the rush of pleasure and pain so overwhelming it felt like his soul had left his body for a moment. He must’ve floated away for a bit, because when he came back to himself, he was no longer beneath Eddie but lying on top of him, his head resting on Eddie’s chest, while Eddie’s fingers gently combed through his hair in a soothing rhythm.

Steve must’ve made a sound, or maybe Eddie was attuned to the change in his breathing, because Eddie noticed right away.

“Hey, sweetheart, back with me?” Eddie’s voice was soft, warm, filled with affection.

“Mmm,” Steve hummed, feeling content and utterly spent. His limbs felt like they weighed a ton, his body heavy but blissfully sated. “Don’t wanna move.”

“Never?” Eddie chuckled, his laughter light and fond, and Steve could feel himself falling even deeper into this perfect moment, cocooned in the warmth of post-orgasmic bliss.

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, his stomach growled loudly, breaking the quiet. Eddie snorted. “I think we have to move, darling. That sounded like a demogorgon.”

Steve groaned in protest, causing Eddie to give in with a soft smile. “Okay, fine. A few more minutes, but then we’ll get you something to eat and drink.” His hand drifted to Steve’s neck, thumb gently brushing over the already healing bite. “This took a lot out of you. Let me take care of you, okay? Like you did for me.”

Steve snuggled closer, the idea of being cared for by Eddie sounding better than anything. “Okay,” he mumbled.

Eddie pressed a lingering kiss to the top of his head, his voice barely a whisper. “Thank you, Stevie.”

[zweiginator]

Religious art who is so meticulous he presses his socks every morning and probably irons his bed, patrick likes to get him messy, not even corrupting him but loosening him up by messing up his hair, tugging on it or getting abit of jelly on his shirt. He knows art doesnt mind, he can tell he kind of likes it and the break in his routine and his life. He loves seeing his child like joy over things as he builds up things like taking him to the dirty magazine section at the local convenience store and encourages him to say how he really feels looking at the girls in them

Patrick smiling at him and treating him like a champ and calling him a dirty dog

patrick being the only one that art lets mess with his hair or crinkle his perfectly pressed shirt. if anyone else were to do it he’d get upset and shut down. but when his best friend does it, it makes him feel alive. art is obsessed with how he’s perceived, his flawless reputation which ironically is tainted by his connection with patrick.

patrick convincing art to unbutton his shirt a bit, drink a beer or two with him at the bar. tells art he can go home right after but to just let go a little bit. getting art tipsy and red in the face, three buttons undone instead of just the one underneath the collar.

patrick asking art what features he likes in the girls who are walking by. whispering into his ear and feeding art french fries, not caring that the ketchup is runny and a bit has fallen onto his favorite pair of trousers.

and art just shrugs. he feels too bad doing this. but patrick goes first. says he likes a brunette’s big eyes. art asks him why.

“you don’t know why you like what you like. you just know you like it.”

and art finds that pretty profound. and he’s just with his best friend anyway. nobody else can hear.

he sees a girl in the corner with curly hair and tight jeans.

“i like her hair. i like how her butt looks.”

patrick nods as he sips his beer.

“atta boy.” pats art on the back.

so they do that all night. until they’re both struggling to stay standing and they’re tired. patrick takes a cigarette from his pocket.

“i’m not taking you home.”

art furrows his brow.

“i’ve seen at least five girls who’ll let you go home with them. go talk to one.”

art looks worried. “how do you know that?”

and patrick just rolls his eyes. “stop acting like you don’t know you’re good looking.”

[gatorbites-imagines]

Perhaps Hal Jordan or Clark kent with cuddling. Like just them coming home after a stressed day and you just take care of them the best you can. U offer sex but they don’t want it. Just wanting to be in ur presence for a bit yk yk

Clark Kent x Male reader

Headcanons

Hey nerds, guess who’s not dead. I feel like I am, but apparently, I’m not. Classes are kicking my ass because of very cramped timelines and long days. Who’d have thought becoming a caretaker (idk the English word) would be so difficult. A shorty, but still something I enjoyed writing.

It wasn’t a common occurrence. For Clark to come home so worn out and tired. As a man powered by the sun, a man of steel as he so regularly gets called, its very difficult to him feeling so worn down.

For the most part, the days he comes home in this mood, is not because he’s exhausted physically, but rather mentally. Be it from difficult missions, or just long days at work where he’s talked down too or pushed aside.

There is something soft and cute about him like this, though you would never tell him that. he’s always a little whinier and poutier, but also cuddlier, if that’s even possible for a guy who seems to live off affectionate contact with you.

The first thing Clark does when he comes home from days like this, is kick off whatever he’s wearing and change into something else. Most days its some ancient washed-out sweatshirts from his university days. The kind that’s been washed so many times the logo is mostly gone, and the fabric is worn thin and soft.

Its either that, or if you’re bigger than him, then it’s one of your shirts. That or just a pair of boxers and socks, so he can crawl into your space and flop down there like a big lazy cat.

If possible, Clark tries to crawl up into your shirt, laying his head on your stomach or your chest, ear pressed against your skin to listen to your heart, even if he can easily do that anywhere on the planet. Being so close just puts him at ease.

You cant hear it, but you know he’s purring, even if it’s a frequency you can’t pick up. At this point you can only really rub his back and let him soak up the affection and touch he needs like a wilted flower in the sun.

When he starts pressing featherlight kisses against your torso, you start to think maybe Clark wants something more, since he starts kneading at your sides, like you’re made from playdough, and he wants to mold you into something else.

His hands are so big and strong that you almost feel like playdough, with how insistent his rubbing and kneading can get. His kisses never go beyond soft pecks and barely there brushes of his lips, Clarks head just moving from side under your shirt as he lays on top of your legs.

You don’t need words in a situation like this, your hands becoming more exploratory, rubbing between his shoulders and tapping your fingers at his spine, like he’s a harp you’re plucking the strings off.

The change in your scent must catch his attention too, as Clark lifts his head just enough for you to see him through the collar of it, his eyes soft and glistening. They remind you of marbles, in a way. So shiny and with that clash of shades of blue.

The small downwards pout of his lips and minimal shake of his head is all you need to know, that going farther isn’t what he wants. So, you just give a nod in reply and place a hand on the back of his head, bringing him back down again.

You don’t really understand why he feels so much comfort under your shirt like this. Maybe it’s the enclosed feeling of it all, the shirt, and sometimes blanket you put on top, closing him off from the rest of the world.

Maybe its just the closure, and being surrounded by your scent, which always seems to put him at ease, or rile him up, depending on your own mood.

You don’t hate it though, you never could, not when its Clark. So, instead you just lay back, rubbing your hands slowly up and down his back and Clark nuzzles deeper against you, letting him rest there for as long as he needs.

[sgtpeppers]

Okay so the quick version of this is: saw Two Of Us today, adored it even more than I adore the film, the choice to keep them in John's building worked really well to further highlight the mental health message the director talks about in his little note in the programme, the rooftop scene is somehow even more intimate and lovely in this version and the ending is even more painful! I'm gonna write down more under the cut about it all:

Playlist: The playlist before the show/during the interval is everything you would want it to be and it includes Monkberry Moon Delight which I feel like I never hear in public! 

The overall experience was also just super wholesome, one thing I always love about Beatles events is the range of people there it just makes you feel like your part of such a special thing, so shout out to all the old women talking about Paul near me, the middle aged men in their Beatles shirts, and the girl behind me who was sooo excited to be there and I hope she got to meet the cast after like she wanted to! ALSO the Beatles drinks are so funny, idk why Ringo’s is just earl grey tea 😭

Performances: OKAY let’s get into it. So one of my only real complaints about the film is that although I think overall Jared Harris and Aiden Quinn do an amazing job but I do find the quality a little inconsistent (especially the accents) but Richard Short and Barry Sloane are soooo so good, the accents, the little verbal quirks (which also, kudos to the writer as well) and the physicalities are jarringly good at points, especially Barry Sloane’s John. I also feel like a lot of Get Back was watched in preparation because there were so many little things, like the way John plays with his hair that just took me right back to that. Sometimes with fictional Beatles things I’m constantly thinking about how you’re watching two people try to portray these real people, but I definitely found that they were convincing enough that I wasn’t thinking about it too much. 

Outfits: I did find it kinda weird they went for the Get Back looks rather than how they looked in 76, I feel robbed of the New York City vest tbh but they did look great 

Changes from the film: basically they cut out them going for the walk to the park and to Luigi’s and instead John sets up the table for them like they’re in a restaurant in his kitchen. I think it works really well because they play into John not wanting to leave the building, which just adds into that whole mental health thing, and I think it actually makes the rooftop scene more poignant when they get there, because it feels more like Paul has broken through a bit and coaxed him outside, even if it’s baby steps. Anyway, they still have all the same conversations really the script is just chopped up a bit. 

One interesting thing is that the conversation that happens with the fan in Luigi’s still happens, but John sort of pesters Paul about whether he really thinks silly love songs should be number one, and it’s a nice extra layer to Paul’s insecurity which I enjoyed 

Mental health conversations: I think going into it knowing that the director wanted to make this because of the mental health themes, specifically men’s mental health and how having someone to reach out to is so important, is really interesting. They definitely amped up John’s anxiety from the film, his fidgeting and little moments to himself where he’s trying to get himself together were just so palpable, and Paul talking about his depression after the Beatles broke up was even more raw and upsetting seeing it in front of you. My absolute favourite line in the film is ‘I’m thirty-five years old and I still feel like I’ve done something wrong’ and god, my heart just broke seeing it on stage, I think that’s such a common feeling, just that sense that you’re in trouble for something but you’re not really sure what? Anyway, I just loved Sloane’s delivery of it. 

The Kiss: Okay, look I actually don’t care that much about the kiss in the film, I’m glad it’s in there as a little nod to John’s queerness but it really isn’t anything imo, but I liked it a lot more in this! For one thing rather than coming after a little play fight (which is still cute, don’t get me wrong) they do one of their silly dances where they’re spinning each other round etc, so the scene already feels more tender, and then John just kinda grabs him and it goes on a little longer than in the film. I still think it’s far from one of the most intimate moments in the show, but I do think they made it into something more here. 

Rooftop scene: It’s just. It’s everything. They sit right at the front of the stage, facing each other, cross legged and Paul gives him the whole ‘I see a beautiful baby boy speech’ and it’s PERFECT, this was the moment I was most worried about them screwing up and it was perfectly delivered and they have this lovely big hug after it and it made my heart ache in the best way. And idk, if seeing some guy dressed up as Paul McCartney saying that we should focus on fun and get out our own heads and how we don’t have to stay stuck as the kids who were just scared and trying to survive, doesn’t do something for you, then we’re just very different people. 

SNL scene: okay it’s pretty much the same but the way John is sleeping on Paul was everything, it wasn’t just a head on the shoulder he was fully laying back against Paul!! 

The ending: this is just so brutal because Paul doesn’t leave the flat to get his guitar, he borrows one of John’s and so when Yoko calls and John starts doing the whole ‘I wish you were here, you’re the only one who stops me disappearing’ it’s literally…. In Paul’s face. And it hurts. Then at the very end they cut between John on the phone to Yoko and Paul on the phone to Linda, and so Paul says ‘I love you’ to Linda, then John says ‘I love you too’ to Yoko but it sounds like they said it to each other, and then Here Today plays. The fact most people didn’t appear to be crying baffled me quite frankly. 

Yoko: They decided to have Yoko be the one who actually invited Paul, which felt like an odd choice and didn’t really add anything for me, but there we go 

Okay I’m gonna shut up there because this is way too long and I doubt anyone’s read it but ahhhhhhhhh it was so good and you’re just all lucky I can’t text you because my friends have had much more incoherent versions of all this

[cherubharrington]

I only have eyes for you

18+mdni

Authors note: this is part 2 to Rafe staring at reader.

You tried to rationalize him staring at you. Especially that intensely. Maybe he was zoning out. You decided to chalk it up as that. To not think so hard on it.

Until he did it more times than one. His eyes moved any direction you did.

You felt your niece tuck at the bottom of your dress. You looked down at her as she stared up at you. She gesticulated for you to come closer, so you bend on your knees to hear what she had to say.

“Why is that guy staring at you?” She whispered into your ear. So you weren’t the only one who saw that. “He’s creepy.”

You don’t know how you caught the attention of Rafe Cameron. You never would have assumed you were even on his radar. You always had your nose in a book. There wasn’t anything you thought made anyone think you were interesting. Which you took offense too because you felt like you were actually more interesting than people would think. But you knew you couldn’t control how people felt about you. So you just ignored it.

But Rafe Cameron? That was weird and didn’t make any sense to you.

“Don’t worry about it. He’s probably just zoning out.” But even your niece wasn’t convinced.

A few more instances of this occurred, and you were confused. You didn’t understand why he was staring so much. You tried to ignore it but finally, it was like he knew you were frustrated. He had finally decided to approach you.

“Hey, I’m Rafe Cameron. But you probably know that already.” He said smugly.

“Yes, Rafe. I know who you are. You’re all any girl can talks bout.” You say, annoyed. He smiles at you, his gaze drinking you in from head to toe. It’s silent as he does so, you can’t exactly hide from him. Your crop top and low rise denim shorts, didn’t really leave much to the imagination.

“So, how come I didn’t see you until midsummers?”

“We just moved here. Like two months back. Wasn’t really in the mood to go into the heat when the ac did me just fine.” He smiles at you, his hands finding yours. Rubbing his thumb on your skin.

“A pretty girl like you coop up in her room for two months. Must have been boring.” A blush appears on your face, betraying you. “You don’t have to worry about being bored anymore.”

His dick was deep inside of you, your hands on the sides of his face. You watched as he disappeared into you and out again.

“Fuck, this pussy.” He says, he’s bending your legs back for easier access. His hands on your thighs. “I couldn’t wait to get my hands on you.” He grunted.

“Fuck, Rafe. I-“

“Yeah, yeah. You love my dick huh? Can’t even speak.” His thrusts speeds up, more violent as he does so.

“Mhm. I love your dick.” You breathe out. He lets go of your legs, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. He cups your face, bringing your face up to stare at him. “Pretty girl. So fucking pretty. Look at you, the way I’m destroying you. You’re mine. Never letting anyone take you now.”

The lewd noises of him thrusting in you fills the room. You can’t even think, but a part of you is conscious enough to think “did I just make a mistake?”

Taglist

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[beenbaanbuun]

ateez as muppets

i have work in the morning but muppets are more important than sleep

fun fact about me! the muppets was the only film i watched for a period of about 2 months. i would watch it at least once a day, sometimes twice, and i had the soundtrack downloaded so i could even get my muppets fix on the move… anyway🧍🏻‍♀️

kim hongjoong - beaker

hear me out!!!!! despite being a little orange tube who makes zero sense when he talks in ‘meeps’, he is smart (not really)! he’s a scientist!! he is dr bunsen’s right hand man!!!!

he also just carries the aura of hongjoong about him with that dainty frame and red hair. hongjoong and beaker are twins, i’m sorry

park seonghwa - kermit the frog

i can tell i’m losing you here and honestly, i’m losing myself but let me explain!! kermit is caring. of all his personality traits that one sticks out to me the most

this muppet would give it everything he has for the other muppets and that’s a trait i see a lot in seonghwa. he loves his team, and kermit loves the muppets

jeong yunho - fozzie bear

what can i say other than the guy is just silly? he lives his life on where the next pun is coming from and he’s willing to put in the work to find reasons to make a joke

he also just kind of looks like yunho? look at this fuzzy little fuck and tell me you don’t see yunho buried behind those beady eyes. i need it for halloween, yunho PLEASE

kang yeosang - miss piggy

it was between miss piggy and rizzo rat but i thought about it for a few more seconds and realised that miss piggy is literally just yeosang… like come on

the beauty, the sass, the elegance, the love she shares for her fellow muppets despite not always being able to show it. tell me that’s not yeosang, i fucking dare you

choi san - rowlf the dog

i love rowlf. he’s so chill and yet he’s a man of many talents! sure, he’s a dog first and foremost but did you also know he’s an actor? a pianist?? a veterinarian??? just like san, this dog can do it all

i also just kind of want to hug him in the same way i want to hug san. i just know in my heart of hearts that it’s such a warm, gentle hug

song mingi - animal

i was struggling for mingi until i remembered that oh yeah! animal exists and just like mingi that muppet is just an unstoppable ball of energy who thinks he’s so cool

mingi gives me drummer energy which is why i have written him as one multiple times. animal is also a drummer, and a pretty sick one at that!

jung wooyoung - rizzo rat

the main reason i picked rizzo for wooyoung is bc he’s a chatterbox. it’s not necessarily the most helpful or intelligent of things but it is being said whether you like it or not

rizzo is mischievous and fun and he makes me giggle and if that isn’t wooyoung?? he also has a lot of love to give! watch a muppets christmas carol and you’ll see what i mean 🙂‍↕️

choi jongho - gonzo

gonzo just feels so jongho to me. from his exasperation with the other muppets to his daring nature (bro fires himself out of cannons…) he’s just so jongho!!!!

gonzo has that divorced dad of 3 drip that i know jongho would look stellar in. you’re telling me jongho wouldn’t rock a floral shirt?? some suspenders??? he’s a dilf! of course he would…

[soobnny]

no other heart — best friend!kim seungmin x reader ; only one person can ever persuade seungmin to do anything (1.4k words)

happy bday seungmo! you are my favorite person

Seungmin feels Hyunjin before he even sees his face.

He comes in the form of a hand falling firmly on Seungmin’s shoulder, and the first thing the younger boy thinks is that your hands are supposed to be smaller.

The house that they’re in is loud, and really really crowded. It’s a setting that Seungmin doesn’t often take part in, preferring the quiet sounds of his airconditioning back at his room.

There is also a sharp contrast in how the boy favors his music. While he’s currently surrounded by the thrumming of music that beats in his ears, he would rather be at the dorm in the comfort of his lifeline (or, for better words, his collected playlist for the month).

From the corner of his eye, he sees his oldest friend, Chan, talking to a set of faces he’s never seen before. He wonders how the older boy does it. Seungmin has no plans of starting a conversation unlike Chan, not when he’s overstimulated by the flashing lights, and the confusing aromas wafting from the red cups that everyone seems to be holding, and the hand on his shoulder that most definitely is not yours.

“Seungmin, you came!” That’s also definitely not your voice.

“Hyunjinnie.” He breathes out, head muddled by his sudden urge to go home despite just having arrived around half an hour ago. He doesn’t sound as enthusiastic as his friend, but Hyunjin gives the boy a pass. Besides, it’s not everyday you see Kim Seungmin out past 10 in the evening, more less at a party.

Seungmin shifts a little from where he’s standing, just enough for Hyunjin’s hand to fall limp by his side. If you knew him less, you would think he was being rude. However, his indifference does a lot in calming his friend down.

He still has a distaste for parties. At least, this way, Hyunjin knows that no force has taken over Seungmin for his sudden appearance.

“Not to be mean, I’m just genuinely curious. How come you’re he—”

“Seungminnie!”

He shifts his attention to the sound.

There’s your voice, finally your voice, loud and clear to the boy, enough to be heard over the music and the voices and the heat.

There’s a sudden understanding that crosses Hyunjin’s features, and he says something on par with how Seungmin would only ever go to anything if it was you who asked.

“Ah, of course you’re here, (name). That must be why he’s here too.” Hyunjin giggles, sending a wink that looks more like a blink to the both of you before he disappears into the crowd.

Whatever he means.

Hyunjin has always had a knack for being cryptic anyway.

There is no proper greeting when Seungmin finds you, only a flick on your forehead.

“What’s wrong with you,” he says, but there is no grit in his voice. “You asked me to come here, and left me waiting for you for thirty minutes.”

“I was late.” You smile sheepishly, taking his hand in yours before dragging him along the pool of people to lead him outside.

He should be used to it now, the ease in which you link your hands together, as if there’s no need for a warning anymore when you’ve known each other for this long. Still, Seungmin finds it unfair. He needs it, needs the warning before you take his heart hand like this.

“You shouldn’t be asleep on a Friday night like a senior citizen.”

This senior citizen came out all the way here for you, he thinks.

“‘M going home now,” is what he chooses to say.

“No!” You suddenly stop in your tracks, just when you’re about to reach the grassy fields of the backdoor of whoever the hell owned this house.

It makes Seungmin stumble over, feet in a hurry to plant themselves on the ground so he doesn’t crash into you. When you turn to face him with a scolding look on your face, the only thing he can think about is how awfully close you are.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to proximities like these with you. “I’m already here, don’t you want to be with me?”

Seungmin sighs because he does, really does, but not in the way you’re asking right now.

“Plus, there’s supposed to be a comet tonight. I think we’ll be able to see it from here.” Your hand latches back on his, pulling him outside where the cold breeze of the night air greets you.

“There’s been a comet every night since last Wednesday.”

“But the city doesn’t quite get a view of it like this.”

By his fate, because he can never say no to you, he watches the comet falling just as you mention it.

Seungmin supposes you’re right. It is a little nicer out here compared to the light pollution of the city, and there’s a good enough distance between where you are and the painfully loud music of the house, and he doesn’t have to deal with anyone but the one person he cares about.

He chooses not to think about the eventual teasing that’s bound to come his way.

He knows Hyunjin’s spreading word around, that Kim Seungmin is actually here, and his friends already know why.

Because you’re here. What other reason does he need?

And Seungmin supposes he can sacrifice a few hours of sleep. Despite begrudgingly coming here, he doesn’t think he’d be able to trade the way you look right now—with your eyes soft and enchanted, and your features highlighted by the soft glow of the moon, and the small, but fond smile playing at your lips.

“It’s so beautiful.”

“It is.” He’s not looking where you are, and you’re too painfully distracted by the falling comet and the thousand stars blanketing the night sky to notice that he’s only ever looked at you tonight.

“Seungmin?”

His breath hitches when you suddenly turn to him, and there is no other coping mechanism he can think of but clearing his throat and looking anywhere but your eyes.

You take the moment where he’s too distracted to wrap your arms around him.

Seungmin freezes at the contact, the nudge in his heart so visible on his face. It’s a shame you have your head buried on his chest to notice the way he suddenly relaxes, hand gingerly resting on the small of your back for a second before wrapping himself entirely around you.

“Why’re you hugging me all of a sudden?” It sounds like he wants to say more, but he remains hesitant. Instead, he pulls you just a little closer.

“Thanks for coming. I know you hate going out to stuff like this, and I really do feel bad for practically forcing you. But, at the same time, I’m just really happy you came too.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nothing to feel bad about.”

Fuck, the way he says it is so awkward, and he cringes at himself for feeling this nervous around you. He tries to steady his pulse, tries to stop the rapid way in which his heart beats because he knows you can hear it.

“I stole your sleeping hours, of course I feel bad. Plus you hate parties, and yet you came here anyway.” You loosen your grip to look up at him.

You’re ill-prepared to see the tenderness in which his eyes are looking at you right now. He does that sometimes. You’ve never quite figured out why.

“Because you asked me to.” He tells you, really tries to tell you without saying too much. “I’d do anything if it was you who asked me, stupid girl.”

It feels like more of a realization to himself, and he doesn’t really want you to think about what he means. At least not tonight, not in the same night he’s come to find out just the lengths he would go through for you. His lips are parted like he wants to say more, but he decides against it. Still, his very few words will leave you blushing for the next few days after tonight and strike up a few realizations of your own.

Seungmin has known, and he’s known what he was signing up for—when he’d come here, when he’d pick you up, when he’d answer your calls at two in the morning.

He likes you a lot, and no other heart will ever make him act this way.

Not like you do.

So, for now, he’ll keep doing anything if you ask him. He’ll keep showing up until he’s ready to commit to the How To Confess scripture. He’s a simple boy, after all.

A simple boy with a simple heart that beats only for you.

[velocesainz]

Seb n his F1 rival(from karting days) realise thru friends that they do love eachother thru their actions whether they admit or not

Unknowing love

F1 Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Taglist

Summary: Seb and reader have been rivals since their karting days and after years of rivalry and reaching formula one realise they’ve loved eachother throughout this time

Pairing: Rbr Seb x f1!driver!reader ft. Mark Webber

Warnings: a light bit of angst

Reader pov:

Me and Seb have been feuding for as long as we’ve known eachother which is over 20 years at this point when we met during my first karting race

Sebastian was this adorable boy who after the race had some rather rude words to say. It was really a shame, I really would’ve liked to be his friend.

After that day for the next year after every race he would have some rude or sexist comments to say to me which I ignored for the most part

After a while I started reciprocating these words to him as well and our rivalry grew even more intense

We were now in formula one, the pinnacle of motorsport and we still hadn’t grown out of our silly bickering

We were currently in imola and had just started the race being a few laps in when a red flag was raised and I was asked to return to the pits

“Who crashed? That’s quite the wreckage” I asked my engineer as to who crashed as I approached the crash site

“I believe that was the red bull of Vettel that went into the barriers there” my engineer replied

My heart dropped. Was he alright? That looked like a really bad crash

I didn’t think, I stopped my car by the side of the track and ran to check on Seb

Knocking on his helmet I invoked no response. My mind was spiralling. I helped the marshals get his body out of the car and was forced to return to my pitbox and not Seb who was being taken to the hospital.

The race resumed but all that clouded my mind was Seb. How was he? Did he sustain any serious injuries? Was he going to be ok?

I could barely focus and my team noticed too and asked me to keep focusing and told me they would update me on his condition which made me incredibly grateful

I finished the race on the second step of the podium but I didn’t care for the press or the celebrations and rushed through all of them

I was pacing around the paddock waiting for mark to go visit Seb at the hospital

“About time you guys realise that you care for eachother” he said as he approached me

“What are you talking about Mark? Also what do you mean about time? I’ve hated him forever. I’m just looking out for a fellow driver” I retorted.

“Any person not deeply in love wouldn’t care this much dear. Look at the rest of us. We care sure, but not so much that we drop everything and go visit him” Mark explained

Albeit it was a weirdly rude explanation I realised he was right.

We reached the hospital and let Mark go in first as he was his teammate after all

Mark pov:

Entering Sebs room I placed the flowers y/n has got for him insisting that I give to him in a vase.

“How did you know I love sunflowers?” Seb asked looking at the flowers

“ That’s because I didn’t, y/n got them and wanted me to give them to you” I said

“She’s here?”

“Indeed she is. She was worried as soon as she saw the crash site”

“Whatever not like I care she’s my mortal enemy”

“Aw don’t be like that, I know you have the most massive crush on her”

Seb started at me wide eyed with a red hue tinting his cheeks

“I’ll send her in, she’s waiting outside”

I left and sent y/n in who was relieved to hear that he was ok

Seb pov:

I saw y/n enter the room and looking at the immense concern etched into her face I asked myself why I decided to create such an enemity with this beautiful soul

I knew I had to confess soon as her potential suitors were getting harder to drive away.

“Hey”

“Hey”

“How are you feeling now?”

“I’m better now that you’re here”

I watched as her face heated up turning her into the cutest tomato

“I love you”

“Seb..”

“I love you y/n. I have since the day we met”

“I love you too Seb. Always have”

With that we connected our pups in the most magical kiss ever.

We broke apart to the sound of Mark Webber cheering for us from outside

Chuckling we embraced.

I couldn’t have asked for a better ending.

A/n: hello lovelies! I’m sorry it took me this long to complete I’m sorry but I’m much more free now and I’ll start posting more. I’m getting the catalogue ready and would love for any suggestions about what the theme could be! Let me know your thoughts. Kissies ✨

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