#and so... I legit don't even come close to having the answer for this

[holdinggrudges]

oxytocin - sam winchester

pairing: sam winchester x reader

content: EXPLICIT 18+, porn without plot, genuinely there is no plot, fem!reader, established relationship, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, edging, dom/sub dynamics like..a little bit, soft dom sam, size kink but also only a little bit, no use of y/n

word count: 2.3k

summary: Sam has a thing about control. So when the pieces don’t quite fall into place—when a hunt goes a little sideways, for example—Sam can get a little…twitchy. Antsy, irritable. What you’ve learned, though, is that it’s all too easy to give him back that control. To let him take it from you.

notes: i thought this was finished two days ago and then ended up writing, like, a thousand more words. whoops. anyways uhhh...i've never written anything quite like this before (this is my first ever legit pwp lmao) so uhh if it sucks don't tell me i'll cry.

crossposted on ao3

Sam has a thing about control. You can’t fault him, of course; it’s actually sickening to think about how often his autonomy, his freedom of choice, has been wrested from him. Him turning into a bit of a control freak seems, frankly, like the best case scenario. It does mean that when the pieces don’t quite fall into place—when a hunt goes a little sideways, for example—Sam can get a little…twitchy. Antsy, irritable; you love him to death, but he’s a damn terror to be around when a hunt doesn’t go your way. What you’ve learned, though, is that it’s all too easy to give him back that control. To let him take it from you.

Two thick fingers press into your cunt, slow and leisurely, like he’s got all the time in the world, like you’re not falling apart in his lap. Like he doesn’t have you so wet it’s probably dripping down his wrist. He has your legs hooked over his, keeping you spread and open for him as he teases you. His smirk presses to your temple, your cheek, just below your ear as he plasters your face with soft kisses. “You’re doing so good,” he mutters, his lips brushing against your neck with the praise. “So perfect for me, you sound so pretty like this. Tell me when you’re close, okay, baby?” 

God, you’re not sure you’ll ever get there like this. “Sam, please.” You’re not above begging, not in the slightest, especially not right now. You feel like you’ve been here for hours, panting and whining on Sam’s lap. For fuck’s sake, you’ve still got your sweater on.

You feel more than hear the little laugh your whine drags out of Sam, a rumble in his chest where you’re plastered against him, a puff of air against your throat. “You need some help? Hmm?” he asks, dragging his unoccupied hand up your stomach and rucking your sweater up as he does. At the same time, his fingers curl inside you, stealing your breath and sending your head lolling back on his shoulder. 

“God—” Your hands scramble to grab onto something, anything, searching for purchase. In the end, one lands on Sam’s wrist as his hand cups your breast, the other grasping at the sheets below you, twisting them in your grip. 

His thumb brushes over your nipple, drawing a choked whimper from your throat. “Answer me, baby. Can you come like this, or do you need more?” 

How are you even supposed to think like this, let alone speak? “Fuck, Sam—” you manage to babble out, turning your head to hide in the crook of his neck. The smell of him floods your senses, pine and musk and just a little bit of sweat that lets you know he’s not as unaffected as he pretends to be. “More. I need more, please.” 

“There you go,” Sam coos at you. Then he shifts the angle of his hand so the meat of his palm grinds against your clit with every thrust of his fingers, dragging a guttural moan from your throat in the process. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? My good girl.” 

Curses spill from your lips like a chant as everything ramps up tenfold and leaves you struggling to keep up. Sam’s fingers, practised and precise, drag against your g-spot with every thrust and, combined with the pressure against your clit, they have you moaning and babbling incoherent pleas in moments. Your chest heaves with your panting, gasping breaths as the pressure in your gut grows and twists and builds until it threatens to send you careening over the edge. 

Sam’s wrist twists in your grip until you release it, letting that hand fall to white-knuckle the sheets below you with the other one. With his hand newly free, Sam draws his fingertips along your jaw and tilts your head up until he can see your face. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, sweet as candy, as if he’s not taking you apart. “Talk to me, baby. How’re we doin’?” 

Oh, he’s such a dick; he knows how you’re doing. Your pussy is pulsing around his fingers like a heartbeat, he knows damn well. He just wants you to say it. But you know what game you’re playing. “Sam…”

He presses his thumb to your lips, and his turn down on a frown that you know—you know—is performative, but that puppy look still digs its claws into your head. “Come on.” 

“Oh, fuck—” Sam curls his fingers, and your gut pulls so tight you almost forget to breathe. “Okay, I’m close, God, Sam, please—” You know it's coming, but it still comes as a stone cold shock to your system when Sam’s fingers still inside you and the pressure of his palm disappears from your clit. Your cunt flutters as the bliss that had been moments away fades out of reach; your thighs futilely trying to close, press together, but you're stopped by Sam’s legs holding them open. 

Sam carefully unsheathes his fingers from your cunt, and you could damn near sob.

He coos over the sound of your whine. “I know. But you're so pretty like this, sweetheart, so good for me.” His hand leaves your face to catch yours as you reach down to finish the job yourself, bringing it up to press a kiss to your knuckles. “Uh-uh. You trust me, don't you, pretty girl? I’ll take care of you.”

  You narrow your eyes, glaring even as you twist your hand to tangle your fingers with his. “You’re evil.” 

His laugh puffs over your lips as he leans down to press a quick kiss to them. It’s a little uncoordinated, and certainly not the best angle. But it’s a sweet apology. “Maybe I just thought you'd rather come on my cock.” 

Your next inhale is sharp, a response to the way his words make your neglected pussy flutter. You twist a little further, your nose bumping his with how close you are. “Are you gonna let me?” you ask, and your lips brush against his as you speak. 

He hums, and his eyes crinkle with the grin that he presses to your lips. “Say please—” he murmurs, the words washing over you like a wave— “and maybe I will.” Your hand tightens around his.

God, but if the power trip doesn't look good on him. The word comes out on a breath, just barely a whisper of, “Please.” 

Sam swallows the plea with a kiss, draws a gasp out of you as his teeth sink into your bottom lip and tug as he pulls away. “Please…what?” he urges, dragging a line of hot, open kisses along your jaw and down the line of your neck. “Come on. You want it, don’t you? Use your words.” 

You tip your head back, and you’re sure Sam feels you swallow around your need because the next kiss he lands on your throat is biting. “Please,” you say again, “please let me come on your cock.” 

Sam’s smile against your throat is so bright it almost burns, and he releases your hand from his grip. “Anything for you, baby.” He presses one last kiss to the base of your neck before his hands come up under your thighs, lifting you off his lap. “Come on.” 

You help him maneuver you until you’re laying on your back on the bed, and you take the opportunity to stretch your legs out, groaning at the stiffness from having them in that position for so long.

Sam kneels beside you, his hands squeezing at your thighs. “You alright?” he asks. His hands smooth up your legs to your hips before he draws them back down again in a pseudo-massage. 

You nod. “I’m okay,” you tell him, and then you let your thighs fall open to make room for him. You get the pleasure of watching his eyes snap from your face to your cunt, his pupils swallowing his irises whole. “Want you.” 

He lifts his gaze to yours again, and he holds it as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pulls them down and off.  “Whatever you want, beautiful,” he says, climbing over you and settling with his hips between your thighs before he pulls his shirt over his head. He tosses it aside and braces his hand beside your head.

Entirely shameless, you reach out to press a hand to his chest, admiring the solid planes of his stomach flexing as he holds himself up to hover above you. His muscles shift, a body perfectly designed to drag the tip of his cock through your folds. Your breath catches in your chest, your hand smoothing up and over his shoulders to tangle your fingers in his hair. 

He smiles, then his hand settles on your thigh. “C’mere,” he mutters, drawing your leg up over his hip. Your other leg follows suit, your ankles crossing. Keeping him close. “There you go.” With that, he presses inside you. He slides in easy—you weren’t exactly hurting for prep—but the stretch of your cunt around him still has you groaning in tandem with him. 

“Fuck, Sam—” you gasp as he bottoms out, his hips kissing yours. Somehow, you always manage to forget just how big he is until you’re so full you feel like you can feel him in your throat. 

Sam’s hand that’s not currently holding him up drags the hem of your sweater up until it’s bunched around your shoulders, leaving you, essentially, bare for him. He trails his fingers down your torso, watching the goosebumps that bloom on your stomach as he traces your skin. “Good?” he asks, his voice tight with the effort of keeping still inside you. 

“Yeah. So fucking full,” you moan, your eyes fluttering shut as his hand cups your breast. “But yeah, I’m good.” 

“Good.” He draws out, dragging along your walls until only the tip is left inside, and you brace for the punch of the next thrust. But it never comes. He lingers, teasing, until you open your eyes to see him smirking down at you. “You wanna beg for it?” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan, pressing your heels into his back in an effort to press him forward. He doesn’t budge. 

“I think you’re gonna,” he says, ducking his head to press his lips to the hinge of your jaw. “You wanna come? All you have to do is say please—” He brushes his thumb over your pebbled nipple, pulling a whimper from your throat— “and then I’ll fuck you so good, you know I will. Just let me hear it.” 

You turn your head to face him, staring him down, breathing in his air as you consider his proposal. You lift your head to brush your lips against his. “Please fuck me.” If you hadn’t been paying attention, you wouldn’t have noticed, but his hand flexes just so where he’s cupping your chest. “Sam. Please.” 

Sam draws you into a proper kiss at the same time he slams home into you. Although, a proper kiss is maybe not the best way to describe it. It’s more Sam licking into your open, panting mouth, swallowing the desperate, airy moans that his thrusts are punching out of you. The pace he sets isn’t fast, but it’s deep, and with his tongue on your mouth and his hand on your tits, it feels like you can feel him everywhere, like there isn’t a single part of your body that isn’t being consumed by him. 

“My beautiful girl,” Sam rasps as he pulls away. He drags kisses down your neck, and then skips right over the bulk of your sweater to scrape his teeth over your nipple at the same time his fingers pinch at the other. Your chest spasms on a sobbing moan, your nails scraping down his back, aching for purchase. The feeling is overwhelming, lighting up every nerve ending you have until the only thing you can think about is Sam—Sam’s mouth on your chest, Sam’s voice soothing heated skin, Sam’s fucking cock taking you apart. “You sound so wrecked, baby, look at you.” 

“Sam—” His name drips from your lips like a mantra, over and over and over like it’s the only thing you can say anymore. You’re so close, teetering so close to the edge that a light breeze could push you over. “God, please—” 

His hand abandons your chest, smoothing down your ribs and over your hip bone. “I got you. I said I’d take care of you, didn’t I?” he says, and then he flattens his tongue over your nipple as he shoves his hand between your bodies to rub at your clit. 

It’s over—your whole body trembles with it, and you cry out as your orgasm crashes over you. Sam’s hips stutter where he’s fucking you through it, and then you feel him spill into you, the spasms of your pleasure having pulled him off the cliff right along with you. 

“Oh, fuck—there you go,” he gasps, his hips slowing to a stop as you both ride out the recovery. “So perfect, so good for me.” 

With the last of your energy, you lift your hands to his face to drag him into a spent, sloppy kiss. “Took such good care of me,” you mutter into his mouth, shivering while he takes the opportunity to carefully slide out of you. “Love you so much.” 

In a few minutes, the two of you will have to stumble out of bed to the bathroom, clean up and truly recover. But right now, Sam’s smile against your lips warms your chest enough to forget about his cum dripping from your cunt. “Love you too.” 

[sheeezu]

.Shift by channeling.

Go to your DRs by channeling, again, step to step guide.

This can be used as a separate method, or you could use this when you need a final push.

This isn't the spiritual type of channeling, nor do you need to use AI or something, nor do you get possessed.

Step 1:

Before attempting to shift, choose a person from your DR. It could be your S/O, you can choose to channel multiple people, if you have a friend group or something, but i recommend picking someone whom you have a close connection with in your DR.

Have a voice claim ready, take some times to look at the person's pictures, remember their physical attributes, focus on their personality.

(You can listen to songs which remind you of your relationship with that person)

Step 2:

Lay down, when you're prepared to shift. You're going to start off saying affirmations like it's a normal shifting method.

If you can visualize, i recommend you think of visual affirmations which relate to your DR.

Its a method to affirm, where you go around your DR, whether it's your DR house, room, or a memorable or nostalgic place in your DR, and see your normal shifting affs, carved, written around, for example, your affs formed by clouds, carved into pillars and tables, written on your clothes, finding papers or letter which say your affirmations (so Affirmations ∝ Your DR)

You should try to be hype fixated, so if you are fidgeting, can't stay still, you're too engrossed in what's going on inside your mind to notice your body itching or twitching.

Do this until your symptoms intensifies or reach a peak, everyone feels differently, for some it's more physical (seeing light flashes, tingles, floating) for some it's mental (having a gut feeling, feeling euphoric) so don't get discouraged.

You aren't doing anything wrong.

Step 3:

This is where we come across our special person. While you're seeing your affs, make yourself meet them. Now, if you're confused and going to say this isn't channeling, then just stop. You're creating this reality and undoubtedly every moment you're experiencing, so when you're in a deeply concentrated phase, the only thing that could possibly stop you from having a very real and authentic meeting with your SP is your own self-doubt (anyways, if you're having self doubt then say an aff or two to combat them)

Your SP is standing right in front of you, let yourself loose at this point. No need to force anything scripted, but if you want then you can.

Have a conversation with your SP, whether it's initiated by you or your SP.

Maybe even invite them to drink tea, sit outside, take them to a secret spot.

Now you're having a conversation with them, starting off with your conscious thoughts doing the talking from your part, whatever your SP says is your subconsciousness speaking, or you're directly channeling them (both of which are the same thing, i hate being repetitive, you're creating reality if you believe you're being channeled by your SP, then that's what's happening)

Start off with a normal conversation, like how'd you talk to someone, someone you love and know very well.

Right now, you're going to say a very specific affirmation:

"(your SP's name) is just about to ask me what i was doing in my OR/void reality."

Then let the conversation take a natural turn. That question will eventually be asked, your loved one is just very curious about why you were away from them.

Now, what you will answer back will be the way how to shift.

"Oh, must be a fever dream, i had never had a dream so real, i was touching everything, each and everything felt legit." (best for permashifters, don't be afraid of using this if you intend to come back)

"I guess it was out of responsibility, but don't worry, i'm here now."

"I don't know myself, all i know i didn't like being there."

"I was curious, that's all; you know i like exploring new things, and come on, it was a whole new universe, but now i want to rest at home."

Whatever your SP says in response, whether they're asking you to come join them, or how they're glad you're back, just nod back.

Step 4:

Go to sleep in your DR, if you recall, you're in your home. Go towards your bed, crash down, close your eyes.

From this point onwards, you're going to embody your DR self and fall asleep acting normal, completely abandon the fact that you were shifting, or that you have shifted to your DR, act like a person (your DR self) living in any other world (your DR)

I described this in details in the third phase of my pinned post, you're supposed to do all that.

You'll wake up in your DR.

Why is this method supposed to work?

Connection to your DR environment ✔

Logically explains your involvement with your previous reality, why you were there for so long ✔

Reminds your consciousness that you've successfully shifted ✔

Connection to your loved ones in your DR ✔

Most importantly, connection to your DR self ✔

...

That's the method, you can also shift in between the method as well. There really isn't any reason for you to wake back in your CR, listen to some subliminals to remove intrusive thoughts, then you're good.

You could also make it so your SP had more control over your shift, like they brought you back, you can modify the method according to your wishes.

It's a short and sweet method, believe in your abilities and you'll be out of here faster than lightning.

...

This method is heavily focused on visualizing, if you have aphantasia then your DR SP can just speak to you, when you eventually cross over to your DR self's state of mind (if they can visualize) you'll get the ability to visualize like them, or get flashes of images.

...

Also thanks for everyone who gave me compliments in my inbox I have no clue how to receive them, but I am very grateful (:

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Good boy gone bad- H.HJ

Today is the equivalent of Valentine's Day in my country and I wrote this funny fluff fic to celebrate. A special thank you to my girl @jehhskz for giving me this incredible idea. I hope you like it 💜 And also have a nice day with your boyfriend Hyunjin 🤭

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: suggestive, supernatural and magical stuff, munch! Hyunjin

Alexa, play Good Boy Gone Bad by TOMORROW X TOGETHER

The lights are low. Not because you're trying to be romantic, but because everything bright, it hurts. You’re sitting cross legged on the floor of your apartment, in yesterday’s hoodie, surrounded by the wreckage of your evening— an empty takeout container, an untouched glass of wine, and the poodle your ex gave you last Valentine’s Day.

Prince.

 Fluffy, white, ridiculously spoiled. And the only one who hasn’t left.

"You're all I got now", you whisper, reaching out to scratch his head

He yawns with that squeaky sound of his, then rolls over, showing you his belly like he knows exactly what comes next. You give in, of course you do, rubbing gentle circles on his stomach until his little paws twitch and he lets out a sigh like he had a long day.

"Don't look at me like that", you murmur, flicking a stray piece of lint from his fur. "It’s not my fault I wasn’t ‘ambitious enough’, you say flatly to no one in particular. Then you glance down at Prince, "That’s what he said”

You scratch behind his ears. He yawns.

"Not passionate about my goals. Not the kind of person he could ‘build a future with’ "

You let out a heavy sigh, "I work. I pay rent. I live… I just didn’t live the way he wanted me to"

Prince snuffles and rolls onto his side, now demanding back 

"He wanted me to quit everything and follow him to Seoul. No plan. No job lined up. Just… pack up and support him. While he ‘figured it out’ "

You look at Prince.

"You, my fluffy bastard, are what he left behind when I said no"

You stroke a hand down his little spine. Prince shivers, sighs, tucks his nose into the crook of your elbow like he knows this is the only kind of affection you’re getting tonight.

"I told him I couldn’t just give up on everything. That I loved him, but I couldn’t abandon myself for him. And he said I already had”

You laugh, bitter, humorless

"And now here I am. Three weeks for Valentine’s day. No plans. No boyfriend”

Prince licks your chin.

"Except you"

You blink down at him, emotionally exhausted.

"My ex dumped me and left me with a poodle who refuses to eat unless I hand feed him roasted chicken breast"

You sigh, whispering into his fur, "At least I have you”

Prince curls deeper into your lap like you were just one. You love how warm he is, how he fits perfectly against you— how he stayed.

You love that it makes you feel a little less alone.

Then, suddenly, your phone starts buzzing

 Incoming call: Quokka 🐿️

You groan but swipe to answer, “What?”

“OK LISTEN, before you hang up…”, Han’s voice explodes out of the speaker, “I may have unlocked the universe of infinity love”

“You bought another cursed item off the internet, didn’t you?”

“I invested, Yn. There’s a difference. This is artisanal craftsmanship with metaphysical properties”

“Oh, like that energy activating incense for ‘better blood flow down there’ you bought on AliExpress last year?”

“Ok, first of all, it had 1.2k reviews and a video testimonial”

“You said it only made it worse. Very legit”

“I was under a lot of stress, so obviously it blocked the energy flow”

“Sure”

“But not this one, Yn. This one, it came with a sparkly handwritten note. In blue glitter glue, so it’s legit”

Prince lifts his head and blinks at your phone. You stroke his back, waiting for what’s coming.

“It’s a love candle! But like, not a regular candle, a summoning candle. Like for attracting hot people”

“You mean… a spell for getting laid?”

“No! I mean like a soulmate magnet. A pheromone booster for your aura. It came from, like, Russia? Or was it Chicago? Well, somewhere magical”

You close your eyes and rub your temple, “Han, are you high again?”

“No, but I did almost pass out from the fumes when I lit it. Also, small detail… the wax made my dog horny. He’s been humping the couch for about fifteen minutes”

You pull the phone away from your ear, consider hanging up, then put it back, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re single, obviously! And miserable! And being held hostage by a demonic stuffed animal with a superiority complex”

You glance down. Prince is licking his paw with complete indifference.

“I think it could work for you”, Han continues, “The candles are colorful. You like colorful things. Mine is shaped like a torso, and I think one of the nipples fell off in shipping but that could be symbolic or whatever”

“I’m hanging up”

“WAIT, LISTEN! Just… light the candle, and picture your ideal man. Like… a nice guy. A hot guy. Someone with a big dick”

“Goodbye, Han”

“THE CANDLE WORKS!!  I lit it last night at 11:11 pm, prime manifesting hour, and boom. This morning? My barista asked for my number”

“You’ve got to be kidding me”

“I’m not. She said, and I quote: ‘You smell like confidence and testosterone. Can I have your number?’ You know I definitely don't smell like that ”

You glance at the half empty wine bottle on your coffee table, “This is the weirdest call I’ve had in weeks”

He’s grinning through the phone, you can feel it, “You’re welcome. Want me to send you the link?”

“I’m not summoning sex demons for Valentine’s Day, Han”

Han scoffs, “They’re not demons if they’re hot and promise giving you back massages”

“Goodbye, Han”

“Don’t blame me when I’m happily cuddling after sex and you’re still watching Netflix with your dog”

“Enjoy your haunted candle”

“Oh I will. And so will my barista”

And with that, you end the call.

Prince blinks at you. You blink back.

“Don’t you dare turn into a human just to prove him right”

•°. *࿐

Later that night, after you've eaten both your dignity and an entire sleeve of cookies, your phone buzzes with a text from Han.

Quokka 🐿️:

 [Sent you a link]: www.getlitgetlaid.com 

 You're welcome 😉

I lit another candle and now the barista gave me a free muffin   

That’s foreplay, Yn!!

You stare at the link then you stare at Prince. He stares back.

You whisper, “This is stupid”

But you click it anyway.

The site loads with sparkly gifs, pink pop ups, and a massive banner that said:

💘 GET LIT GET LAID— SPARK YOUR SOULMATE 💘 One candle. One night. One stupid hot decision.

There’s a category list with candle names that range from “Mommy issues” to “Sugar daddy” to “Loser trapped in a hot body”

You narrow your eyes, “Han needs help”

Scrolling through, one product makes you freeze.

It’s titled:

VALENTINE #08: Sweet Venom

You start to read the description, already regretting:

🧸 Smells like gummy bear and sin 💦 Notes of grapefruit, bubblegum and fake innocence ✨ Guaranteed to attract: – Dimples – Boyish grins – Soft flirting – Oversized hoodies – Shy glances that secretly know exactly what they’re doing – Possibly: men who giggle when they kiss you 🚨 Caution: side effects include blushing, butterflies, and delicious makeouts.

The candle wax is bubblegum pink, sprinkled with red glitter and shaped into a gummy bear wearing sunglasses

“Jeongin”,  you mutter.

 It’s literally Jeongin in candle form

Prince lets out a long, judgmental sigh through his nose. You look at him.

“I know, okay? It’s dumb. But I haven’t made out with anyone in three months and this one promises me to attract a shy hottie and smells like candy!”

Prince gives you the kind of slow blink cats usually do when they’re plotting murder. Then, to make his opinion perfectly clear, he dramatically gets up from your lap, trots over to the corner, and purposefully pees on your favorite fuzzy slipper.

You gasp, “Prince!”

He makes unbroken eye contact the entire time.

Later, as you clean up the disaster, you whisper, “Too bad. Candle’s already on its way”

He barks once in protest or even jealousy. But at this point, that candle is probably your best shot

•°. *࿐

It arrives in a suspiciously pink box.

You're in your pajamas, a messy bun on your head. Prince circles your feet with low grumbles, like he can already see the disaster.

Inside there's bubble wrap, glitter confetti, and a folded card that says:

💘 "For lonely hearts and delusional fools. Good luck, sweetheart" 💘

You blink at it.

Beneath the card sits the candle— chubby, bear shaped, glossy, and pink. You lift it and immediately get hit with the fruity punch of grapefruit and sugar scent. Prince snorts, clearly not liking it. 

You're gonna light it up anyway.

When the match strikes, the wick catches instantly. The flame flares pink, then settles into a low glow.

You whisper, “This is ridiculous”

The candle crackles, like it has something to say about your skepticism.

You sit with it for ten minutes but nothing happens. No naked boys materialize from the void, no romance falls from the ceiling. Just pink light and an increasingly suspicious scent clouding your tiny apartment.

You blow it out.

That night, you dream of dimples and gentle hands that hold you tightly against a solid chest 

•°. *࿐

You sit in your microbiology lecture the next day, twirling your pen, trying to forget the cursed candle and your pissy poodle.

Someone slides into the seat beside you.

“Hey”, says a soft voice.

You turn and there he is— Jeongin. Oversized hoodie, sleepy eyes, and the kind of lazy smile that makes your heart twitch like you’re allergic to calm.

“Hey”, you say trying to pretend you didn’t light up a magic candle to him last night.

He scratches the back of his neck, “Hum… so, exams are coming and I’m, like, failing bacteria”

You blink, “You mean microbiology?”

“Yeah, that. Can you maybe help me? Study, I mean?”

You stare at him. His lips curl up. Dimples. Soft. Boyish smirk. Your brain almost short circuit immediately.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

You lit the candle and Jeongin just asked to spend time with you. To study ‘bacteria’. Romance is dead, but of course you want to spend hours talking about bacterial structure and infections with this man.

“Yeah, okay!”, you say, “When do you wanna start?”

“Tonight? If you’re free?”

You swallow, “Yeah, totally. My place?”

“Sure”

“Great, I text you the address”

“Cool”

He winks before he leaves, leaving you completely breathless

•°. *࿐

The books are closed. The last flashcard is discarded  between pizza boxes and your empty soda cans. You're both sitting on your bed after hours of bacterial cell walls. Close. Way too close. Jeongin’s hoodie sleeves are pushed up to his elbows and he keeps watching you. The kind of look that could knock the air out of your lungs if you let it.

“I think I get it now”, he says, voice a little raspy from talking for so long, “About bacteria. And maybe about... you”

You blink, “Me?”

His hand touches your knee, carefully. You don’t move.

“I thought I was imagining it”, he says, thumb brushing small circles against the fabric of your joggers, “But I don’t think I am”

Your voice is barely a breath, “Imagining what?”

“That you want me to kiss you”

The tension hangs between you. 

“You were never ‘failing bacteria’, were you?”

He smirks, lazily shaking his head as a ‘no’.  You lean forward, hesitantly, but Jeongin doesn’t waste time. His lips catch yours in a kiss that’s hungry from the very first second.

He kisses like he’s been holding back the whole time— deep, slow, full of heat that crawls up your spine and makes your fingers grab his hoodie like you were trying to pull him even closer. If that’s even possible. You feel him shift closer, one hand sliding behind your neck, the other gripping your waist like he needs to feel every inch of you.

Your teeth graze, lips part. The sound he makes isn’t soft— it’s needy.

His mouth trails down your jaw, before returning to your lips again— urgent, wet, dizzying. Your heart races, your mind spins as he lays you down.

Jeongin’s hands slide beneath your shirt, and your breath hitches when he mutters something filthy against your skin.

You know you should stop, your dog’s still in the room but you think, “he’s just a dog”, and he’s curled up quietly at the foot of your bed like he always is. Right?

Wrong. So very wrong.

Because the second Jeongin shifts above you, one knee nudging between your thighs, hips pressing down to close the space between your bodies— there’s a sudden blur of a bark and a ferocious growl followed by a:

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

You jolt upright just in time to see your little white poodle, Prince, with his teeth sunken to Jeongin’s ass. His ears are back, eyes wild, tail puffed up like a pissed off cotton ball.

“Prince!!” you shriek, grabbing a pillow and throwing at him, “LET GO!”

“I think he broke skin!”, Jeongin mutters, stumbling off the bed, hand clutching his butt, “Why is your dog like this?!”

“He’s never done this before!”

“Well, and I am not in the mood anymore”

“Jeongin, wait!”

“I call you”, he says as he stumbles to the door with his dignity in ruins, muttering about rabies shots.

The second the door shuts, Prince hops smugly on the bed, circles once, and sits like nothing happened.

You look at him with a piercing gaze 

“Prince” you say slowly, “Did you just bite someone because they were on top of me?”

He snores and then, like he has no shame, he crawls into your lap, lays his head on your chest, and lets out the most satisfied sigh you've ever heard.

•°. *࿐

It’s been three days since Prince ruined your make out session with Jeongin.

You still wake up remembering the look on Jeongin’s face. A little turned on. A lot confused

But life moves on, and so do your dating ambitions.

You’ve just finished vacuuming glitter from Jeongin’s candle out of your rug when your phone buzzes again.

Quokka 🐿️ :

How’s microbiology boy 😏

You: 

He got scared off. Prince bit his vibe off…

… and his perfect ass

Quokka 🐿️ :

LMFAOO

Damn, I hate this dog

Try another candle 😌Rebound power unlockedStop falling for muscle gods.

You roll your eyes and type back, “go away”

Quokka 🐿️: No ❤️ Go to the website Do it for the plot

Get one for a comfort boy.

You stare at the link for a full thirty seconds before clicking it again. 

You scroll past “Short kings”, “Bald and bold” and “Tight gym shorts”

Then you stop.

Because this one. This one is pale yellow, shaped like the Sun with a glistening label that reads:

VALENTINE #15: Sunshine Soulmate

🌞 Smells like honey tea, ginger and laughter 🤗 Notes of chocolate cake, kindness and cinnamon ✨ Guaranteed to attract: – Gentle souls who bring you flowers for no reason – People who laugh at your worst jokes – Long nights with deep conversations – Someone who actually listens – Possibly: forehead kisses and hugs that feel like home 🚨 Caution: You may fall in love with your comfort partner, and never look back.

You whisper, “That’s… Felix” Felix, your neighbor. The guy who laughs when Prince humps his leg in the elevator, whose voice is deep but still soft as sunrises

You buy it. Heart pounding like a teenager in love.

Prince gives you that slow, side eye as if to say: what’s wrong with you?

•°. *࿐

The evening the candles arrive, you shut your curtains and pull Prince to your lap. You open the box, press your nose into it and inhale. 

You light it.

The flame burns in a gentle yellow, rippling across the living room like sunlight on water.

Prince barks once, looks at you. You wrap him in your arms. He hides his head on your shoulder, tail thumping.

Beside you, the candle crackles in soft tones

“I don’t know why I’m doing this”, you whisper, “Felix is… he’s out there. Probably doing small talk with old ladies at the grocery store line” 

You brush your fingertips along Prince’s fur, “And I’m here wishing he liked me. Not for muscles. Or dangerous smirks. Just… for real, warm, comfortable company”

You laugh weakly, “Instead, I am here like a desperate loser. Stuck on stupid candle magic and a dog who won’t leave my lap”

You blow out the candle and Prince snorts with satisfaction.

You lean your head back and close your eyes wishing it works this time 

•°. *࿐

It’s the day after you lit the candle.

You’re in your apartment, dressed in your emotional support hoodie,  trying to figure out if  cereal counts as dinner, when there’s a knock at the door.

Prince immediately loses his entire mind.

You stagger to the door, hair messy, wearing socks that don’t match. You open it to see…

Felix.

Golden hair, oversized cream knit sweater, a smile that curves like a sunrise, freckles scattered on his cheekbones like a constellation. He’s holding a large tupperware container in one hand, and in the other a movie DVD.

You blink, “Hi…”

“Hey”, he grins, “I made cookies. Movie night? You, me, and…”, he peeks over your shoulder, “Prince. If His Royal Highness is free”

Prince wags his tail like he understands what Felix said, then bounces in excitement.

“I, huh…”, you swallow, “That sounds really nice, actually”

Felix’s smile grows, eyes doing that crinkly thing that makes your stomach fold in on itself like origami.

 “Then come over. Comfy clothes are mandatory”

•°. *࿐

You arrive minutes later with Prince and a bag of chips. Felix opens the door and Prince immediately trots in like he owns the place.

You follow after him.

The apartment smells like vanilla, sunshine and freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. There are string lights over the couch. A fluffy blanket fort in the corner. The screen is already paused on the movie menu.

“You seriously still use DVDs?”, you ask.

Felix shrugs, “They’re nostalgic”

He hands you a cookie and gestures for you to sit. Prince climbs onto the couch like he pays rent and plops between you and Felix. 

You roll your eyes, “Prince, really?”

Felix just laughs, “It’s okay. He’s protecting his princess”

You choke on a cookie crumb.

Felix chuckle— warm and contagious. He pats the couch beside him, “Come on. I won’t bite”

You settle in, shoulder brushing him. Prince lets out a grumble, but accepts his fate. 

As the movie plays, you pretend to focus. Felix smells like clean laundry and he keeps laughing at all the dumb lines, and every time, your head turns toward the sound like it’s a magnet

Halfway through, your fingers brush while reaching for the same chip. Neither of you pulls away. He glances at you. You glance at him and the tension grows heavier

“You’re warm”, Felix says, soft like the rain outside 

You whisper, “So are you”

And then, very gently, his fingers lace in yours.

Prince snorts loudly and ruins the moment, of course, but Felix just grins and presses his shoulder into yours. He’s warm and sweet, and you feel like the candle was right: you may fall in love with your comfort partner, and never look back.

Even better? Prince is behaving.

Not just behaving like sitting quietly, he's actually snuggled against Felix’s side, tiny chin resting on Felix’s thigh, tail wagging lazily every time Felix absentmindedly scratches his fluffy fur

You almost tear up from the relief.

“Oh my god”, you whisper, “He likes you”

Felix grins, flashing that sunshine smile, “He’s adorable. So chill. I thought he didn't like me”

You look at Prince, who blinks innocently at you, “Yeah, me too…”

You start to relax. Maybe this time it’s different. Maybe Prince has matured, maybe he has accepted he can’t be your only source of affection forever. 

When the screen goes dark and Felix kisses your cheek, thanking you for coming, and walks you both to the door. You feel suspiciously hopeful.

Until twenty minutes later.

Your phone buzzes.

Felix 🌞:

So…

Not to be weird but….

 I think Prince left me a present

In my gym bag

Like a solid one

Like a Number Two  

Your jaw drops.

You:

OH MY GOD FELIX I’M SO SORRY!!! Please say you didn’t put your hand in there

Felix 🌞: 

I didn’t But he looked me RIGHT IN THE EYE before you guys left I thought it was affection It was a threat

You sprint to your room and throw open the door. Prince is stretched luxuriously across your bed, tiny paws crossed, eyes closed like a cat sunbathing.

You whisper, horrified, “You pooped in his bag”

He doesn’t even flinch.

“Why?! You liked him!”

He opens one eye, blinks, yawns and turns away.

Yeah, you probably will die single because of him.

•°. *࿐

It’s been four days since the incident with Felix

You’ve blocked the memory of his hands on your waist and the sound of his laugh as the movie played. You’ve told Han you’re not buying another candle. He insisted anyway

Quokka 🐿️: Girl they have one called “Moonstruck” 

That shit it’s POWERFUL

You roll your eyes so hard you almost pull something. But later that night, curiosity wins. Again. As always. You find yourself scrolling through Get lit, Get laid, one leg on the heater with Prince drooling on your thigh.

You scroll until you see it.

VALENTINE #20: Moonstruck 

🕯️ Smells like lavender, rosemary, paint, and quiet mornings 🎨 Notes of melancholy, watermelon and pink glitter ✨ Guaranteed to attract: – Artists who see the world sideways – People who cry at concerts – Loud laughter in silent rooms – Boys who write you poems – Possibly: a guy who really loves you, kinda needy and clingy 🚨 Warning: lighting may cause a sudden urge to talk to the moon

You frown. There’s no face you associate with it. No crush. No worthy idiot.

Just... an unexplainable certainty that you should buy that damn candle..

•°. *࿐

The candle arrives three days later in a box that smells like moon dust.

You light it that night. It flickers purple and gold

Prince hops on the couch, circles a free time, and flops dramatically into your lap with a grunt. You stroke behind his head as you whisper, “You realize this is your fault, right?”

Prince snorts.

“No, seriously. I used to be fine. I had a relationship. An almost stable emotional state. A carpet without candle dust”

He yawns, jaw cracking.

You sigh, laying your head back, candlelight dancing across the ceiling.

“You’re the one who scared my dates away. You. A chaotic dog with judgmental eyebrows and a spirit full of vengeance”

Prince blinks, like he was waiting for you to finish your dramatic monologue

“I’m going to die alone,” you say gently, cupping his face. “Just you and me, buddy. And someday you’ll bury me in someone’s backyard next to your long lost squeaky bones”

Then he licks your nose. You laugh softly, burying your face in his fur. 

The candle flickers. Something in the room shifts. Not loud. Not bright. Just a breath of something different.

You fall asleep on the couch like that.

Prince curled at your side. Candle burning low. Dreams thick and golden behind your eyelids.

As you sleep, a shape stirs on the floor.

But you don’t notice 

Yet.

•°. *࿐

You wake up with a loud crash coming from the kitchen. Not the clatter of paws on tile. No collar jingling. No soft whimper.

A human noise.

You sit up, disoriented. The candle’s completely burned down. Your phone says it’s 3:42 am.

You grab a blanket and tiptoe into the hall.

“Prince?” you whisper, heart hammering.

Then you see him.

A tall, completely naked man rifling through your fridge like he lives there.

His back is to you at first, but then he turns, very casually, sipping from your carton of chocolate milk with a smile like this is the best day of his life

You scream.

He drops the milk.

“WHAT THE FU… WHO THE HELL… WHY ARE YOU NAKED?!”

 “You asked that candle to bring you someone who really loved you. So… surprise?”

You take a full five seconds to connect the dots. The familiar shape of his lips. The floppy hair. The weird sparkle in his eyes that you always said made him look like he knew your secrets.

“…Prince?” you whisper again, backing into the wall.

He shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Technically, I’m Hyunjin. But yeah. You kinda wished I turned into a human”

You stare at him. “You were a dog��”

“Your dog” he says, stepping closer, still naked, “And now I’m something even better”

“Why are you still naked?!”

“Because pants weren’t part of the wish, obviously"

You’re still in shock. Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. No words come out as you try not to stare at the way he’s standing there like he isn’t naked while drinking choco milk in your kitchen.

Hyunjin takes one last unapologetic sip straight from the nearly empty carton. Then, without breaking eye contact, he lets out a satisfied sigh like he just finished a fine bottle of wine.

“You’re gonna need to buy more of this, by the way”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

He shakes the carton, upside down, “It’s gone. Like. All of it. I was thirsty” 

Then, thoughtfully, he concludes, “I think it’s my favorite thing about being human so far”

“You…” You gesture wildly at the mess of milk dribbled on his chin, the open fridge door, the nudity.

“You drank my entire carton of chocolate milk naked at 4am?!”

“And it was amazing” he says, eyes twinkling, “but also kinda sad, because now there’s none left. So... maybe write it on a list or something?”

You inhale. Exhale. Pinch the bridge of your nose, “You are literally a magical dog who turned into a man because I lit a cursed Valentine’s candle. And your priority is…”

“Chocolate milk”, he finishes happily,  “And pants. Eventually”

You sigh so hard your soul leaves your body for a second, “I need to go lie down”

“Bring me a glass of water?” he calls after you. “I think I’m still a little thirsty”

You just ignore him.

•°. *࿐

You wake up hours later, head pounding.

For a minute, it’s peaceful. 

Maybe it was a dream. A fever dream. The wine, the candle, the stupid wish— maybe it all blurred together and created the world's most chaotic hallucination.

Then you hear it— a soft hum coming from your bathroom followed by a voice calling out sweetly

 “Ynnie… I’m ready!”

You stumble  to the bathroom, push the door open and immediately regret it.

Hyunjin is standing in the tub, completely naked again. Hair fluffed, cheeks glowing, a towel barely draped over one shoulder

“Took you long enough, lady”

“What… are you doing?”

He blinks, all innocent, “Waiting for you to wash me”

Your brain malfunctions, “I… what?! You’re a man now! Wash your own damn self!”

“But you always bathed me”, he tilts his head, lips curling into a pout so automatic that it has to be a leftover reflex from puppyhood.

 “You use that nice strawberry shampoo. You talk to me while you scrub behind my ears. And you give me a towel hat after”

You gape at him, “Hyunjin”

“I even set everything up!” he says proudly, gesturing to the row of bath products you specifically use for your spa days, “I want bubbles. And the scalp massage thing you do with your nails”

He pauses, grinning wider.

“I’ll wag my tail if it helps convince you”

You slam the door in his face and shout through it,  “DON’T YOU DARE TOUCHING MY EXPENSIVE MASK”

From inside, he calls back sweetly, “You’re still gonna brush my hair after, right?”

You groan, “I regret meeting Han in the first place”

You press your forehead to the bathroom door and sigh like you’re in a tragic k-drama.

“No”, you mutter to yourself, “You are not giving in. You’re not brushing his hair. You are not washing a grown man in your tub just because he used to be a poodle”

And then, the door creaks open.

He pokes his head out. Hair dripping, wet strands falling over his flushed face. And his eyes— those big, dark, round eyes— look up at you like you just kicked a puppy.

“Yn…”

You swallow hard 

“I don’t know how to rinse the bubbles out without stinging my eyes…”, he says softly, pouting already, “You always helped me…”

You blink, “Hyunjin, you're literally 1,80 now”

He nods, “And helpless”

You try to hold back. You really do but then he whines— a soft, high pitched whine— and tilts his head the exact same way he did back when he wore a collar instead of a smirk.

 That’s the end of you.

You sigh and push the door open wider, “Move over, prince of manipulation”

His face lights up like you just gave him a treat.

You kneel by the tub, grabbing the showerhead and your strawberry shampoo, muttering under your breath, “I can’t believe I’m doing this”

He leans forward immediately, elbows on the edge, chin in his palms, a grin curling his lips, “You love it”

You glare at him.

He sticks out his tongue.

You dump water over his head.

Then you reach for the conditioner, “You're lucky you're pretty”

He grins, “I am, huh?”

You gently work the conditioner into his hair, nails scratching lightly over his scalp. He melts instantly. He closes his eyes and lets a pleased little sound slip out of his throat, one that makes your chest tighten.

“I used to love when you did this”, he says, “Even when I was just… Prince”

You blink, “Yeah?”

He hums, “You were always so gentle. Careful. Like I wasn’t just a dog”

You pause, hands still in his hair, “You weren’t just a dog to me. You were like my best friend. Even when you acted bitchy”

That makes his lips part slightly, eyes opening to find yours.

He sits up just a little, water dripping down his chest, “You know what I didn’t like?” he says after a moment, more serious now.

You wait.

“When strangers touched me. Like, on walks. People always think dogs want to be pet, but sometimes I hated it. I only liked it when you did it”

Your heart thumps once, sharp and loud.

“I hated the vet”,  he continues, “and when you left the house for too long. I hated when you cried and I couldn’t do anything but nudge your hand with my nose”

You look down, “You always stayed beside me, though”

“I couldn’t not. You are the person I love the most”,  he says, voice catching a little with the weight of that truth. “Even then, you were mine”

The bathroom fills with soft steam and silence. You rinse the last of the conditioner from his hair, fingers lingering just a little too long at the nape of his neck.

When you look at him again, he’s staring at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

Something human, vulnerable

“Do you still want me?”, he asks, voice quiet, unsure for the first time.

You don’t say anything.

You just reach for a towel, help him sit up, and whisper

“Let’s get you dry first, Prince”

•°. *࿐

The next morning, you wake up to the sound of your fridge door slamming and a tragic gasp.

You stumble into the kitchen to find Hyunjin— still only in one of your oversized hoodies, hair a fluffy mess— standing barefoot and betrayed.

He turns, horrified. “You didn’t get more chocolate milk”

You blink. “Good morning to you too”

“I dreamed about it last night”, he whines, “I woke up tasting it. You promised me”

And like a fool, you drag yourself the shopping mall looking like a tired single parent and return with two gallons of chocolate milk, a new phone with a pink glitter case, a comfy set of sweatpants and sweatshirts, socks with little chocolate milk cartons on them and in exchange, you got a custom contact in your phone saved as:

💗 Prince Hyunjin 👑

By noon, he’s curled up on your couch, sipping from a bendy straw, scrolling through his phone while making soft noises every time he finds an emoji he likes. 

“Why does this one look like you??”, he says, holding up 🐸

You finally stand in front of the hallway mirror, curling your lashes and adjusting your dress.

“Where are you going?” Hyunjin asks casually, mouth full of banana bread you didn’t even see him open.

“Out” you say, avoiding his gaze.

“To see another man?”, his tone is suddenly more icy.

You sigh, “It’s just a date, Hyunjin. You’re fine. You’ve got snacks, Netflix, a phone…”

“You’re leaving me alone on my second real day as a human?”

“You spent all morning watching dance compilations on TikTok. I think you’ll survive”

He narrows his eyes, “I bet he's not even that cute”

You grab your bag and keys, “Stop being jealous”

“You’re being reckless!”, he shoots back, arms crossed,  “You just got new clothes and now you’re going to let some muscle boy take them off you?”

“Oh my God. You don’t even know him!”

“I don’t need to!” he says. “I know you. And I know you like when someone is clingy and follows you around the house and licks your cheek to make you laugh”

“HYUNJIN”

“What? Too honest?”

You point to the couch, “Stay here. Don’t pee on anything. Don’t text my friends. And don’t sabotage this date, it's my last chance”

He sulks dramatically, curling up like a cat, muttering, “I hope he's allergic to fur”

You leave anyway.

But as you wait for your Uber, your phone buzzes.

💗 Prince Hyunjin 👑 Fine. Go. But I hope his hugs aren’t as warm as mine Also we’re out of Nutella Also I miss you

You roll your eyes, ignore him and tell yourself, “Just one more date”

But you already know Prince is going to ruin it somehow

•°. *࿐

You were watching a movie at Changbin’s place— just the two of you, a blanket, snacks, and something cheesy playing in the background. He’s got one arm slung casually around your shoulder, his body warm and solid beside yours. You’re relaxed, comfortable, almost sleepy.

Until your phone buzzes on the coffee table.

Changbin glances down first, just instinct. He's in the middle of reaching popcorn, and the screen lights up so bright it catches his eye.

Immediately, he frowns

“Hum… who’s Prince Hyunjin?”

Your blood runs cold. You reach for the phone but it’s too late.

He reads the preview out loud:

💗 Prince Hyunjin 👑 Baby, I want to taste you so bad I'm losing my mind. 

Come home and let me be on my knees for you.

The air goes thick.

“Changbin, wait… I can explain…”

“You have a boyfriend named Prince Hyunjin?!”

“He’s not… he wasn’t… he used to be my dog!”

Changbin blinks, “That’s… somehow worse?”

You bury your face in your hands, “He was a poodle, okay? A fluffy little spoiled brat named Prince. But then one day he… he just turned into a human, and now he thinks he owns me”

Changbin just stares at you, “You’re telling me your ex poodle is now sexting you and calling himself Prince Hyunjin?”

“You think I’d make that up?!”

You phone buzz one more time

💗 Prince Hyunjin 👑 Tell this dude you’re with to keep his hands off you unless he wants to lose them

Your thighs are mine.

Changbin slowly stands up, hands in the air like he’s surrendering to your craziness, “You should… just go. Before I get bitten. Or murdered by your shapeshifting, possessive ex dog”

“Bin, please, you have to believe me…”

He backs away toward the door, voice full of sarcasm, “No, no. It’s fine. I just need some time to… process”

He opens the door. And you can’t do anything but grab your purse and leave,

“I… call you?”, you try one last time

“Nah, you don't have to. Bye”

And then, he shuts the door on your face

You sigh and presses your forehead against the cold wall, picking up your phone 

You:

HYUNJIN. 

WHAT DID YOU DO???

He replies immediately:

I always get what I want

•°. *࿐

Your place is quiet when you enter. A low hum comes from the TV still on, playing some cartoon.

And on the couch, curled up sideways, limbs long and tangled, face buried in the cushions— is him.

Hyunjin.

He’s in your favorite hoodie. The one you wear when you’re sad or sick or just need to feel safe. It swallows him, sleeves bunched at the wrists, the hem covering his hips where his bare legs stretch out toward your coffee table.

One hand clutches the sleeve. The other clutches an empty spot on the couch like he reached for you in his sleep.

You stand there for a moment, just watching the ridiculous boy who used to bark at your guests now dreaming under the colorful lights of Adventure Time.

He shifts in his sleep and murmurs your name, crackling your chest open. You walk over, slowly, and crouch beside him, gently stroking back his hair.

"Yn…?" he whispers, eyes still closed.

"Yeah”, you whisper back.

He blinks once, then opens his eyes.

“Did he kiss you?”, he asks quietly, voice hoarse from sleep

“No”

“Good”, his lips curve into a sleepy smile, “I wore your hoodie so you’d think of me”

“How could I forget you, my prince?”

He reaches for you, tugging at your fingers, “Then stay here with me. Forever”

You nod, and curl onto the couch with him. His arms find your waist instantly, nose pressing to your neck. Right there in his arms, the weight of another failed date all thanks to Hyunjin’s relentless mischief, seems to fade a little

You sigh deeply, “You know what, Hyunjin? I give up”

He perks up instantly, “Hum?”

“I’m yours” you say, voice soft but firm. “I’ll spend Valentine’s Day alone and it’s your fault for ruining every single date I try to have”

Hyunjin’s little chest puffs out like he’s won the grandest prize. Then, almost immediately, he sulks, lowering his head and giving you a pout that’s impossible to resist.

“Come on… just one kiss. On the lips. You can’t resist me forever”

“Hyunjin”, you say softly, shaking your head with a gentle smile, “No. Forehead kiss only”

You lean down and press a warm, tender kiss on his forehead, feeling the soft brush of his hair. He grins so bright that you know you’ll never escape being his, no matter how hard you try.

Before you can pull away, Hyunjin’s hands catch your face, and with a cheeky grin, he steals a bold, lingering kiss on your lips. It’s soft but demanding, warm and possessive all at once.

When he finally pulls back, his grin is pure mischief, “See? Told you I always get what I want”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You’re impossible”

Hyunjin just snuggles closer, tail wagging like he owns your heart. And honestly? He does. 

At the end, maybe all the love you needed was right by your side this whole time.

If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks and loves notes are very much appreciated 😊

Taglist: @hyyunjinnn, @jehhskz, @mbioooo0000, @nightmarenyxx, @rozsdascsaptelep, @thatonegirlonhere, @notmedina127, @sweetlifeofjoy, @jeonginsleftcheek, @yelhsaa, @my-neurodivergent-world, @hyunles , @lexlikesbts, @imagine-all-the-imagines , @mysterysold, @teenagepeterpan, @hangonhyunjin, @yxna-bliss

[magicalqueennightmare]

Echo-Part 1

John Walker x Reader (nicknamed Echo)

You and John come face to face after years apart

Warnings: mention of death, imprisonment, injury

“Do you want to know who leaked the intel on your team?” The woman who approached you had been vague at best but she’d come onto the base, into secure areas. She had to have some form of clearance didn’t she?

“With all due respect ma’am I am tired of hearing theories and a whole bunch of what everyone thinks happened” you turned to face her, straightening your shoulders. The scars that littered your body didn’t bother you, hell you carried marks but your unit was dead. The guilt was what was eating you alive. The fact that you were alive and they weren’t.

You were on the opposite side of the world from home. You’d been in and out of hospitals. They were trying to cover up what happened, cover up that your team's location and mission had gotten leaked. They were trying to spin it as a mission just gone south. You were being medically discharged. You were out of the army. 

“How about a flash drive with actual proof?” She offered and you froze, turning to face her “What?” She smiled “I’ve done my homework on you Y/N or should I call you Echo?” Your mouth ran dry at that nickname. You hadn’t heard it since John told you he’d taken the mantle and Lemar was joining him. That was all on the eve of his deployment. All you knew was Lemar was dead and John was off the rails, that was all you could dig up. 

“How do you know that name?” You asked as she held out the flash drive “Like I said, I did my homework” you turned the drive over in your hand “What’s the catch? Nothing is free” she nodded “I’ll see you around” and walked away.

Sometimes you get answers and wish you never got them. You read through everything on the flash drive, spent hours upon hours pouring over it. It seemed legit. It seemed in order. 

John. John had betrayed you. John had gotten your unit killed, gotten you captured and kept for weeks. He was one of your best friends. You, him and Lemar were the crew. You three got sent into hell together. You’d survived hell together. Now Lemar was dead and John had turned his back on everything he’d ever known.

He wouldn’t get away with it. You would make sure of it.

You had contacts, people you probably shouldn’t know but you did. People that owed you favors. People that could get their hands on what you needed to take on a rogue super soldier and put him down. You didn’t even rightly care if you survived it, you just wanted to take him down with you.

You bought a new identity and headed back to the states. First things first, you had to track him down.

New team, new start, new chance. Not that he deserved any of it. He’d let so many people down. Every moment John closed his eyes he could see their faces. Olivia, his son….Lemar…you

You haunted his dreams here lately, like a ghost. Next to Lemar you’d been his best friend. He could remember the day he told you he was taking the mantle

He was sitting with Lemar when you came into the locker room. You had your hair in a braid like you always wore it, your dog tags hanging loose and were dressed like you were halfway to the airport.

You looked from him to Lemar “So is it John, Walker or Cap?” He laughed and stood to pull you into a hug “Always John for you Echo”  you looked up at him and smiled before patting his chest “Just remember, don't try to be Steve. Be you”

You pulled away from him and tugged Lemar into a hug “Be safe and keep an eye on this lug” Lemar laughed “Will do. You stay safe too sweetheart” John hadn’t know until then that you were redeploying.

You laughed at the look he gave you “Oh come on, did you really think I’d what? Slip the suit on Natasha used to wear? For one I doubt I would fit it and for two i may be a woman but I’m a soldier. What I was made for. You two go be America’s heroes. I’ll go be one of it’s grunts”

Not long after Lemar’s death the report came in about your unit. No survivors remained.

You tracked him to New York. The bastard was part of a new avengers team. He got Lemar killed, set you up and was living it up. 

They’d kill you as soon as you put him down. More than likely. It would be worth it. For Waldorf, Jones, McAdams, Henderson, Pennant, Corson and Lemar. It would be worth it. You spent days watching the tower, getting used to the comings and goings and getting a rundown of his team.

Two super soldiers, one former assassin, an enhanced individual and the other one you couldn’t find much on. You had to be careful or you’d never make it to John before you would be forced to engage one of them. You had no problem with them. Even the former red room associates. You knew they helped end that horrid place.

It took nearly two weeks before you found an opening. You had one shot at John and you were fucking taking it.

Everyone had just walked back into the tower from a mission. They started to head towards their individual floors but Bucky stopped everyone with a hand up “Wait” he was staring at the security camera. “We’ve had a breach, there’s someone in the tower”

“What the hell do you mean Barnes?” John asked him and he rolled his eyes “I mean Santa came early, for god’s sake Walker. Someone got around the security protocol and is inside. Spread out, stay alert and stay in contact. Now”

Everyone headed their separate ways, Bob chose to go with Yelena just in case. 

____________________

You could hear them moving just above you and smiled to yourself. They always checked the damn roof. No one ever thought to check the floors. You shimmied along to the next opening and slid out. You needed to find which floor John had taken. You didn’t want either of the rest of the team. You wanted him. 

You made your way down one long hallway and could hear his voice bounce off the walls “This level is clear Bucky” you smirked slightly. Just as cocky as ever you see. You slid into the shadows and waited until he was nearly to you and just as you started to pounce you spotted Bucky stepping out of the stairwell. Dammit, you did not want to fight that man. You had respect for him. Everything he’d gone through and come out on the other side of.

You’d rather take on Bucky than the entire team however and you’d heard how much issue Bucky had with John. Maybe it wouldn’t be that much of a fight? You pulled one of the knives from your side and aimed for John’s shoulder but just as you let it fly the woman Ava Starr phased through a wall and it knocked your blade off by half an inch. 

All three sets of eyes flew to your hiding spot. “Come on out and maybe you can make it out of here alive” Bucky offered. 

_____________________

John turned as the figure stepped out of the shadows and was sure his heart stopped beating. It couldn’t be. You were dead. There were no survivors in your unit. Yet there you stood. You had a black tact suit on, your hair in that damn braid even if it was shorter and a different shade. Your eyes no longer held the softness they once had for him. No that blade had been meant for him. “Echo?” he spoke softly and everyone looked between you and him “You know her?” Bucky asked.

___________________

Your eyes never left John, even as you spoke to Bucky “Sergeant Barnes, with all due respect I have no problem with you or your team. I just want him dead” Bucky raised an eyebrow “He’s an asshole but I need a better reason than that” 

“My entire unit was killed because of him. I was captured and held prisoner for weeks. I barely made it out alive. He leaked the intel” your hand twitched towards the gun on your side and Bucky shook his head “Please don’t” 

John took a step towards you “Echo, I didn’t do that…you have to know that” you moved without thinking. You pulled a knife free and threw it. It embedded itself into John’s right shoulder, Bucky moved towards you, Ava pulled her mask down but you’d already pulled the flash grenade from your side and tossed it between you and them. 

__________________

John held the blade where it was in his shoulder, a grunt of pain leaving him as his vision and hearing slowly returned. Bucky was calling his name. He pushed himself up the wall, staring at the spot where you’d been standing. If it wasn’t for the knife in his shoulder he wouldn’t be certain that had just happened. He’d think this was a dream.

“No offense but your girlfriend is a bitch” Ava groaned,holding her head. John shook his head “I thought she was dead. She was my best friend, it was always me, her and Lemar”

Bucky crossed his arms, staring him down “Then what the hell did she mean but you leaking the intel on her unit?”

John shook his head “I honestly don’t know. I would never have betrayed Echo” “She damn sure believes you did” Bucky replied waving towards the knife. “Yeah, no shit”

Part 2

@desimarie12

[darkwood-sleddog]

Do you have any information on the Seppala sled dogs? I've seen some breeders claiming to have them but idk. The most "legit" kennel I saw apparently stopped their program a long time ago and let their dogs age out according ti their website. Their dogs looked lankier and leaner compared to Siberian huskies and had taller, close-set ears, they looked pretty neat. How much did they differ from their Sibe cousins & Chukchi laika ancestors? Are any of them still around today? Did they get absorbed into the Alaskan husky population, like the native Alaskan village dogs?

It's not my breed of choice so I probably don't have the most nuanced information, but they're basically just another breed of working sled dog.

After the Serum Run, Leonard Seppala toured with his dogs in the lower 48. It is during this time that we start seeing the beginnings of the modern Alaskan Malamute, the Siberian Husky, and the Seppala Siberian Sled Dog as all three programs owe some or much of their foundation from dogs Seppala brought with him.

You see, while the Siberian Husky and Seppala people like to think that Leonard Seppala had some sort of strict vision or plan of what he wanted to breed because he was amongst the first to import dogs from Siberia (and is certainly responsible for their fame as racers), many of his dogs were of mixed heritage. Togo himself was a quarter malamute (lower case here to indicate 'malamute' as it was prior to Kennel Club registration, a catch all name for indigenous coastal sled dogs at the time) and so were many of Seppala's dogs:

Seppala even gifted Yukon Jad, the father of the first registered litter of Alaskan Malamutes, to Eva Seeley at the time. The Seeley's owned Chinook Kennels in New Hampshire and here is where things start getting complex. Chinook Kennels bred both Alaskan Malamutes (Seeley's pet project, breeding dogs for Antarctic expeditions), as well as Siberian Huskies from additional stock she had acquired from Seppala. There is a rumor, with some truth behind it, that she would classify a dog as a 'malamute' if it had brown eyes, and a Siberian Husky if it had blue eyes.

Meanwhile Seppala went on to partner with Elizabeth Ricker in Poland Springs, Maine (who was Togo's final owner before his death) to form a different kennel. This one focused strictly on racing dogs. Again, descended from the dogs Seppala had brought to the lower 48. When this kennel disbanded, several of the dogs in Maine went to Harry Wheeler in Quebec who kept them in an extremely closed gene pool until the 1950s (descended from 9 dogs total yikes...). It is around this time that things start dispersing. There begins to be some crossover with the Seppala and Working Siberian Husky gene pools at this time (if you want to get really thick in the weeds read this). Many Working Siberians have Seppala heritage and vice versa because of this. Non-working bloodlines also have crossover to the Poland Springs dogs as well, but less often. There are a TON of Siberian Husky, Working Siberian Husky, and Seppala Siberian Sled Dog bloodlines, some of different percentage of mixture. But does it matter that much when all three breeds have origins in the exact same small group of dogs?

Ultimately the answer of why it matters to some comes down to breed politics and the way kennels clubs are structured, often failing to prioritize working aptitude over physical appearance. There were disagreements over how dogs descendent from the Seppala dogs should continue or how to best uphold, what Seppala wanted out of his dogs (which was to win races, but i digress...), and a lot of MASSIVE hatred for Eva Seeley (like they hate the idea that malamute might be in dogs from her kennel but Seppala himself was crossing Siberians and Malamutes before this time period...). Ultimately, Seppala Siberian Sled Dog people conclude that a Seppala is ONLY a Seppala if it descends only from dogs of Leonard Seppala OR dogs imported from Russia (there are major differences between Indigenous Russian sled dogs and Seppala Siberian Sled Dogs imo, but I won't get into that here in too much detail bc I'm glad they're outcrossing as the SSSD is very in need of genetic diversity). They usually have a big focus on working their dogs and eschew traditional kennel clubs (The Seppala Siberian Sled Dog is registered as a breed only with the Continental Kennel Club, the same 'Kennel Club' that will register anything with four legs as a breed so...).

Now I think a LOT of SSSD people place a huge amount of energy into what "looks" like an SSSD compared to a working Siberian Husky and vice-versa, which is funny considering their attitudes on conformation showing as well as their willingness to outcross to unrelated dogs. They love making the 'cookie cutter show dog' argument against conformation bred Siberians while also having a breed of dog ultimately descended from the same stock, that has been intensely inbred in its history (even though they will bemoan the registered Siberian's lack of genetic diversity...i would be interested in seeing COI comparisons honestly) and has a very distinct look. Again, so much of this comes down to early breeder's historical beef with Siberian Husky folks which I think would be much better for both sides to let go of because really what this is is breed split at the most granular. I can guarantee Russian sled dogs folks that don't use registered breeds specifically do not care to get this fucking specific. Does it work well? Cool, it's sled dog.

(Half Yakutian Laika/Seppala dog on the left, full Seppala dog on the right for comparison, but god forbid a registered Siberian Husky is bred into the bloodlines despite...everything).

Anyways here are some actual indigenous russian sled dogs:

And Leonard Seppala's Dogs:

(SSSD folk will often wax poetical about their dogs resemblance to Scotty, but notice how unusual Scotty looks compared to the other siberian imports Seppala owned (he did have an import Dam, but father? who knows).)

Some Alaskan Husky lines do have Seppala in their heritage (I believe the Hedlund Husky project uses them infrequently as outcrosses), but the Seppala Siberian Sled Dog is pretty insular within itself and the people still breeding it. There are not a lot of breeders, but there are def some of them doing really interesting stuff with their dogs (despite my beef for the attitude and breed split i still have a deep respect when people are doing cool stuff and open to outcrossing etc.). Poland Springs Seppalas is in Alaska right now doing a recreation of the original serum run to celebrate the serum run's 100th year. I think that's pretty darn cool.

[fadingdaggerr]

HIIII! I LOVE THE FIC YOU WROTE, THE AND NOW? SINCE UHM YOU'VE DONE CASUAL AND RED WINE SUPERNOVA, DO YOU THINK YOU CAN DO ONE WITH GOOD LUCK, BABE? OF COURSE WITH A HAPPY ENDING BUT WITH LOTS OF ANGST? OH AND IF YOU CAN'T OR TOTALLY DON'T WANT TO, IT'S ALSO FINE!

truth be told

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: melissa loves you, in what way, she doesn’t want to know. based on good luck, babe! by chappell roan | 7.8k

includes: they/them used for reader (legit once), r is mean direct during the fights (within reason? up to interpretation), angst, HURT/comfort, happy ending

warnings: internalized homophobia and comphet, unhealthy relationship dynamic, swearing, verbal fighting, light kissing/making out

note: i do think melissa is bisexual, but the song is about a lesbian dealing with comphet, so for the sake of the fic, melissa is meant to be read as a lesbian. let’s go lesbians, let’s go! buncha lesbians coming thru! also u can’t tell me mel isn’t a taurus. be so fr. i know lisa’s a leo but look me in the eyes and say that a primary trait of ‘stubborn’ isn’t melissa. u can’t. ruled by venus? like come on.

I, Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti

You’re quite comfortable in this spot on the floor, curled against the couch with your head resting against Melissa’s thigh, rounded nails grazing over the stretch of your neck and exposed shoulder. Eyes numbly glued to the corner of the coffee table, the chattering of the Schemmenti family around you feels far away, not even Vinny and Annette’s arguing over God-knows-what can reach you. It’s peaceful here, even with the yelling and seemingly genetic snort-laugh they all possess. It feels like home in every way.

Something that sounds far away, underwater, that resembles your name passes your ear, but does not breach the wall of comfort around you. The light rocking of your head and grazing nails turning to gentle scratching pulls you back to shore, head shifting to look up at Melissa, eyes scanning her face. All you manage is a questioning hum as you regain your social bearings.

Melissa’s hand slides up your neck to softly hold your chin, “was asking if you’re alright. You’re awful quiet down there by yourself.”

“‘M good, Mel. Just existing, I guess,” you answer, leaning into her more.

Her thumb brushes over your cheek, just barely passing the corner of your lips, foregoing an actual response. The twitch of a smile against her skin has her heart racing, her own light smile fading. Melissa’s mind pushes the casualness to the forefront of her mind, how you are so at ease in this undoubtedly chaotic environment. A sip of her wine replaces the instinct to rip her hand away from you, cross her legs and leave you suddenly without a place to rest.

Take you, Joseph Vincent Peterson

“Why does this credentialing shit have to be so intense? I mean, seriously, didn’t I just fucking do six years of schooling and another two, two, of assisting,” Melissa loudly complains as she goes through all her notes over the counter, “that should be proof enough, but no.”

You grab her tensing hand from across the table, ceasing your organizing of notes by topic, “honey, see how confident you are though? Means you’ll kill it, won’t even be a sweat.”

“You don’t know that,” she says dejectedly, peering back down to her elementary mathematics notes.

“I do,” you say, standing from your seat to round the table and stand behind her. Slowly, you wrap your arms around her, reaching for her balled hands, and leaning to rest your chin on her shoulder, “I know these things. You got this in the bag, pretty.”

Taking a deep breath with closed eyes, Melissa relaxes against you as a lingering kiss is pressed to her cheek. Turning slightly to face you, she presses her own lips to the corner of yours in silent thanks. You suck in a tight breath, she rarely ever allows herself to be so affectionate, even a kiss on the cheek is a rare occurrence. Sure, Melissa is a hugger, with only a select few, but this is so different. Blood rushes to your cheeks, and you are grateful her eyes are back on the notebook and she can’t see the dumbfounded look on your face.

You give her another half hour to obsess over words on a page before convincing her to call it a night, not even you can bear another moment looking at any of this. Admitting defeat, she lets you guide her to the couch, melting into the plastic lining. Melissa watches as you take your place against the arm of the couch, legs crossed in front of you while you flip through channels.

It takes less than ten minutes for the redhead to slowly start scooting closer, creaking plastic making her movements unstealthy. Taking the hint, you uncross your legs to make room for her and open your arms in quiet invitation. Unlike her previous shifting, Melissa nearly pounces into your arms, taking residence against your chest. One hand goes to her hair, scratching her scalp, the other rests on her arm, massaging the muscle.

It’s hard to tell when, or even if, Melissa is asleep on you. Her lack of talking or the slightest movement leads you to believe she’s dead to the world. Only a small whisper of caution passes your mind as your lips press to her crown, lingering there longer than you should. Snuggling into you, the redhead suppresses the smile of utter peace that begs to cross her wine-stained lips.

To have and to hold

Movie nights are always some of your favorite times with Melissa, struggling on a puzzle that you swore you could do. When you were sober. Now, the border still remains incomplete as your attentions divert to the TV when dramatic music begins playing. Admittedly, you aren’t really watching the movie to begin with, but Melissa seems to be so engrossed she hasn’t realized she’s still fidgeting with the same piece.

Aiming for her hand, you flick a puzzle piece into her lap to get her attention. Peeking up over the frames of her glasses, Melissa looks at you quizzically. Gesturing to the puzzle, you look back to her in silent question. She answers in a shrug, moving in tandem with you as you sit up to sit on the couch. A little grin grows as she realizes that she’d get to take her typical spot, but she has something else in mind.

Rushing ahead, she takes your usual spot against the arm of the couch, legs open to make space for your body and arms stretched out in invitation. Without question, you take your place, tucking your face into her neck as her arms wrap around you. Melissa is so warm, so warm that you feel like a cat on a sunspot, settling into her as her breathing calms your heartbeat.

Something switches in your mind, a sense of bravery fills you, and you press your lips to Melissa’s neck gently, lingering against soft skin. You try to pull away, but a hand on the back of your head keeps you in place, and you’re quick to oblige. Lazy, wet kisses glide across blushing skin, never harsh, not one mark left, just simple adoration.

Frayed whimpers leave her as you find a particularly sensitive spot, just below a freckle on the underside of her soft jaw. You can’t help but smile against her at the sound, instantly becoming your mission in life to hear it again and again. Trailing downwards, you stop at her clavicle, allowing your teeth to graze the bone, relishing in her breath hitching. She is chrysanthemum and mirth personified.

Wanting hands pull you up to her lips, and you stay hovering, barely a space between you. Noses brush, nails dig into your neck, hearts rapid. You feel you should tell her before you go any further.

“I love you,” it’s merely a whisper into the miniscule space, but it makes her hands pull you down to her lips. All teeth, all tongue, all need, but she doesn’t match your words.

For better, or for worse

Arm-in-arm, you and Melissa brave the harsh wind of the Philly night weather. She hadn’t believed you, and now she’s proven wrong, of course she passed her credentialing exam with nearly perfect scores. You’ve always told her how you have enough faith in her for the two of you.

Whiskey sours brought you together, at this very bar, having seen each other drinking one after finals junior year, and whiskey sours were how you celebrate every occasion. Ever since then, she has stolen the maraschino cherries from your glass with a grin, always pretending she didn’t.

Three drinks in, Melissa sweet talks you on to the dancefloor. With little room from the sea of people, she stays pressed against you, hands gripping at your sides. As the music slows, she slides her hands up to your neck, looking into you with something you can’t place, but you don’t complain. She’s a heavenly being, especially under the color-shifting lights and strobes. Green irises flick from your lips to your eyes, and there’s something in them that makes you desperately need to kiss her. Fluttering lashes quicken as she catches herself, stepping back before you can think of acting.

Just as much as she seems to not notice the pattern, you pretend not to.

“I’m gonna get a beer,” she shouts over the music, refusing to make eye contact. You manage a nod, watching her disappear into the crowd of drunk dancers. Carefully, you weave through the crowd to the bathrooms, needing a moment to breathe air without sweat mixed in.

After an embarrassing amount of recovery time, and a hit off a pipe offered by a kind stranger, you make your way back out to the bar, scanning for familiar red hair. Spotting her, no longer near the bar, but off to the side with a man. Melissa’s wearing her go on, get me a free drink smile, teeth just barely digging into her bottom lip, and he seems to be perfectly happy to do so. And you let him, cozying up to the bar to order a double to nurse.

Against your better judgment, you periodically check on Melissa and this mystery man. At first, her hands are to herself, and impressively, so are his. A few sips later, and her weight rests on the hand on his leg, leaning into his space with hooded eyes. Bile rises in your throat. You want to leave, but you came together, leaving her isn’t an option, not that it ever has been. When you check again, the man’s hand is cradling her face, and Melissa’s eyes flick to yours briefly.

She wishes she didn’t see the way your lips pursed, forcibly hiding a frown. In an effort to displace this feeling she can’t describe bubbling in her chest, she lets Joe kiss her, rough and wanting. Melissa kisses him back, lets his hands roam, nods when he mumbles to ask to take her home. With an arm around her waist, she walks with him as he walks her out.

Passing by you, she asks him to wait and sidles up next to you, “I’m- uh- I’m going home with Joe. You good to get home?”

“Yeah, love walking” you reply shortly, “just text me the address, so I know the secondary location.”

Melissa gives you an unimpressed look, “not funny. If I need a ride out of there, can I count on you?”

Looking her directly in the eye, you respond, “you can always count on me.”

Joe drives her home the next morning, with a hand on her thigh that makes her skin crawl, but she lets him. When he asks if he can see her again, she tells him she’ll let him know, and he seems to take it in stride. Stepping inside, taking her shoes off, making coffee, she’s fine. But the moment Melissa sits on the couch, a dark, twisted feeling crawls up her back and into her chest at the thought of seeing you later. The inevitable conversation you’ll have makes her feel sick, almost feeling as if she has to hide it despite you knowing. 

For richer, or for poorer

It almost feels too good to be real. Here in Melissa’s room, fan blowing, radio playing some classic rock station, on top of her comforter, pressed against her. Her lips dominate yours, tongue stroking yours for another taste of the cherry cola you’d been drinking when you got here, currently going flat on her nightstand. Greedy hands hold your shirt, refusing to let you move, needing you right where she has you.

Some days, she reveled in your attention so much that she would let herself turn her head when you went to kiss the corner of her lips. It always leads here, with her lips on yours, though she particularly loves it when it travels to her room. Your hands on her hips, fingers just barely dipping under her shirt, only the softest of touches. Always so gentle with her, your touch was never anything more than featherlike, especially so in moments like this.

Needing air, Melissa cups one side of your jaw and travels down your chin, to your jaw, to your neck, open mouth kisses littering your skin on the other. Shaky pants pass your lips, spurring her on further, mumbling baby as her teeth nip at the unmarked expanse of your neck. The hand in her hair only scratches her scalp, as it had before, but the slower ministrations match your deep breaths at every pass of her tongue. A thought passes her mind, one that freezes her from head to toe. Melissa needs you like this forever.

Feeling the lack of lips on you, your eyes peek down to Melissa’s paling face. Warmth leaves you as she pulls away, rolling from her side to lay on her back, face fear stricken. Taking the hint, you don’t touch her, just propping yourself up on your elbow against her pillow, “you okay, baby?”

You watch her take a few deep breaths, keeping your eyes on her saints, “I’m fine.”

“I can-” You take a breath yourself, “I can go, if that’s what you need.” Her short tone was making you squirrely, and her eyes forcibly ignoring you wasn’t helping the case.

“You don’t have to go. I said I’m fine,” she realizes her own tone, “I just… I just need a minute.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, rolling off the bed, “I’ll go put something on for dinner… you can take over when you’re done with your minute.” Melissa only looks at the door once you leave, face crumpling as she tries to push tears back. 

She doesn’t need you, doesn’t want you, she doesn’t. She doesn’t, she doesn’t, she can’t. Not when you hold her hand to not lose her in crowds, not when you fix her hair before getting out of the car, not even when she caves the moment your lips brush hers. It’s hard to deny the way her heart clenches when you forgo her name, always baby or pretty. It’s easier to say she loves you when she reminds herself you’re her friend.

In sickness and in health

Joseph ‘but call me Joe’ is a major pain in your ass. After three months of having his number, of not mentioning him, she texted him to invite him to the bar with you and your friends. Not once did she mention him coming, yet here he stands in a navy auto-body shop t-shirt. Their previous, singular night together clearly gives him this gnarly confidence, arm around Melissa’s waist and a hand just above her ass.

Your fingers burn from your biting, wishing you could throw the glass in your hand at him. He dares touch her in front of you, and she dares to let him. Each forceful placement of your glass back on the table makes green eyes flick to you, but they dart away before you can look back. Melissa wishes that the permanent frown on your face didn’t make her so upset.

Instead all she feels is acid in her throat, guilt and self-disgust making her squirm under Joe’s touch. Joe. She entirely forgot his presence until his hand slid into her back pocket. Peeking up, she notices that his eyes are not on her or the people talking, but on you, a hard look in his eyes. Acid bubbles, angered that he dares to look at you with such contempt.

Melissa nudges him with her hip to get his attention, cocking her head towards you in silent question. Joe leans into her, “your friend looks at me like I’m breaking a rule touching you.”

“Doesn’t mean you need to give the ugly eye. They’re just looking out for me,” she mutters, taking a sip of the amaretto sour he ordered her. It’s God awful, but she deserves as much in her mind.

Joe just gruffs a laugh, “looking out for you or jealous?” He takes her silence as not understanding, “when you’re not getting goo-goo eyes, I’m getting death rays.”

She won’t dignify an answer, hoping he’ll just take it as processing. Melissa knows, oh, she knows how you care for her, how you do more than just that. How you love her. It makes her feel ill, when it’s so clearly swirling in your eyes. The fact that others know, both her family and not, how they push her towards you, it’s terrifying.

Her mother adores you, always asking if you’re coming to dinner, begging for your presence at every dinner after the second one you attended. Kristin Marie jokes with you, not just insults, even asks your advice on things. Annette calls you Melissa’s other half, and when she gets a stony jade glare, it’s only because you two go everywhere together.

As if she knows it’s on her, she meets your gaze from across the table. Her mouth opens to speak to you, but a hand tugs her chin to the left, and Joe presses a rough kiss to her petallike lips. It’s a dare, a dare to cross him, a dare to even look at Melissa, a dare to take what he claims as his.

Forty horrible minutes pass, and on her way back from the restroom, Melissa scans the room. Everyone was right where she left them, chatting through mouthfuls of chips, except for you. Your spot had been filled in by the others, empty glass still sitting on the coaster. Over his shoulder, Joe gives her a grin, sated, waving his hand to get her closer.

Her hands scramble through her purse the second she’s seated, digging for her phone in hopes of a text from you. A single notification sits on her screen.

To anyone else, to Joe rudely peering over her shoulder to read the message, it would seem normal. However, Melissa knows better. There’s no heart at the end, no little ‘love you,’ probably written after you’d already started your journey. Just simply got tired, walking home.

In irritation, definitely not to shovel away guilt, she lets Joe kiss her again at the end of the night, after she downed another amaretto. Even lets him take her home, though he tried taking it back to hers, but to have him in a bed you have lied in? Unthinkable.

Joe’s kisses are as rough as his hands on her, just short of hurting when he grabs at her breasts. His voice is gruff as he offers to drive her home, despite her not feeling anything close to pleasure, close to some sort of good. It’s divine punishment, it seems.

To love and cherish

Melissa misses you. You are right next to her on the couch, yet she misses you. She’s grown too used to the comfort of laying against your chest, having your arms wrapped around her as you watch whatever movie she decides on. It’s ridiculous, truly. She’s with Joe, she shouldn’t be seeking comfort from anyone else, but her ear longs to be above your beating heart.

You’re still pressed against the arm of the couch, though you stay balled up and keep unblinking attention on the screen. The thought passes her mind to simply scoot up next to you, but it’s unwise with the mood you’re in. Since she called you and said Joe officially asked her to be his girlfriend, you’ve entirely pulled back. Not so much as a kiss on her cheek in six months. Melissa feels like she’s in the thick of withdrawal. 

Green eyes feel like crosshairs as you feel them scope your body, attempting to read your displeasure without asking. Truthfully, you want to be here with her, but the clock on your time goes down with each second that gets closer to Joe arriving for their date night. In effort to not cause a fight, you’ve kept away, always leaving before he gets there so as to not be forced to talk. Joseph gets a lot of joy in reminding you he’s there to see his girlfriend.

“What?” You speak into the open air, not bothering to peek at a staring Melissa.

“You’re quiet,” the redhead offers cautiously. She’s seen your bad side, but she’s never been on it. Silence from you is a sort of weapon.

You sigh, “I don’t have anything to say.” More like you don’t have anything good to say.

“You’ve got plenty, or else you wouldn’t be quiet. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Her hand comes to stroke your hair, an attempt to smother the fire, but you duck away from her touch, finally looking at her.

“Just drop it, Melissa. You don’t wanna hear it,” you look back at the TV. It’s the most honest you want to be with her.

The calm demeanor drops, “and how do you know that?”

“Because I know you.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell! Me!”

“You! You are what’s wrong!” You shout as you turn to face her, brows furrowed and nostrils flaring. “You kiss me! You touch me! You tell me you care about me! You hate every woman that gets within ten yards of me, who dares show interest in me. For what?” Melissa is in shocked silence, not answering. “Because you can’t stand that they want me, that I could want them too? Because I could maybe, just maybe, have feelings for someone that isn’t you?”

“That’s not-”

A bitter laugh leaves you, “have you ever stopped to think about what you’re doing to me when you kiss me, let me kiss you, and then just start sleeping with some guy? How do you tell me you care about me more than anything and then kiss him in front of me? I have never hidden how much I love you Melissa, not once, and you rub it in my face?”

Standing from the couch, you try to create distance as you pace with your hands on your hips. You can’t even look at her, knowing the hurt look on her face will break you. You’ll say it’s all fine when it isn’t. This dam cannot be patched. She tries to hide it, but you hear her sniffle as she stands to be level with you.

Her arms cross to create a proactive barrier, “you are the one that just assumes it’s all about you. Joe is a good guy, he cares about me, loves me. He tells me, he tells his friends.”

“And do you care about him? Love him too?”

Melissa’s eyes widen, “I… I could.”

“You could?” It’s almost a laugh. “You sound real confident in that ability. Let me know how that goes.”

The red she sees matches her hair, “and what have you done? Sit and wallow.”

“Oh, sorry, were the many times I said ‘I love you, Melissa’ not clear enough? Or were you just purposefully pretending to hear ‘you’re my bestest platonic pal’?”

“How was I supposed to know what that meant?!”

Your stills, a sudden calm coming over you as you realize the lost cause, “be so fucking rea- you know what? I’m done.” Stepping around her, you go to the door to put on your shoes, feeling like there’s glass coating the soles.

“You’re-”

“Going home,” you say standing, “I can’t do this anymore. At this point, I’m just torturing myself.” There’s no pause before opening the door.

“Please, don’t leave,” Melissa’s voice cracks.

You can’t face her, “I love you. But I can’t say I feel the same about the idea of you only loving me when others aren’t around.”

“I love you, I do. Just, please don’t go.” The door slams in Melissa’s face.

Eyes stay on the driveway as you leave, immediately pulling into your spot, Joe.

Until we death to us part

A surprise dinner for their one year anniversary might just be the most romantic thing Joe has done for Melissa the entirety of their relationship. He called her to tell her to dress to the nines, well maybe the sevens, which made her laugh, quick to hang up to start curling her hair. As she sections her hair, she wonders what kind of restaurant, which cuisine, silently praying that it’s not Italian.

Leaning against his truck, Joe lays on the horn to alert her of his presence, climbing into the cabin as Melissa steps outside. When she gets in herself, Melissa does a once over of his clothing for the evening, hoping to not find an oil stain that seems to be on every single shirt the man owned. None. Not even a mark of too-much-bleach to get rid of an old stain. Collar pressed, not a wrinkle in sight. Joseph bought a new shirt, just for tonight.

“You look handsome,” she says, leaning against the middle console to press her lip to his cheek.

Wiping her gloss from his face, through a cocky grin he says, “thought I should clean up.”

Metallica plays on the radio, no other conversation is even attempted before he pulls into the parking lot of Yamitsuki. Joe’s already a quarter of the way to the door by the time Melissa gets out of the truck, carefully dropping to the pavement in her heels. At least it’s not Italian, at least it’s not Italian.

In hopes to get and keep his attention, her arm wraps around his when he reaches him at the host stand. When the host seats them, Joe yanks his arm from Melissa’s to get in the booth across from her. The redhead sits silently, letting the man order her drink and the appetizer he wants. When he reorders his beer, wanting an American brew, she mentally steps back. Nodding and humming seems to get her through most of these conversations.

A loud laugh from the hibachi station captures both hers and Joe’s attention, though he seems more interested in the puffs of fire coming from the grill. The woman laughing grips the counter as she tries to catch her breath, her date, facing away from Melissa, is shaking with laughter as they rub the woman’s arm. Silver catches the light, and green eyes are drawn to the rings on the date’s hand. A wide silver band, only one constellation engraved into the metal. She doesn’t have to look closer. She knows it’s Taurus, she knows it’s hers.

Tempura, onigiri, even her beloved donburi, they all taste like straw as her mind rotates her constellation brushing against someone new. Melissa doesn’t even have in her to frown when Joe slams his glass on the table to get the attention of the server as they rush past with trays. Peeking away from the adult tantrum over a Budweiser, her eyes go back to the grill.

God, she wishes she hadn’t. Talking kindly to the cook, she gets a view of your profile. Warm lighting makes you glow, the easy smile on your lips makes her heart clench. You’re here, with this woman, and you’re happy. You’re without her and you’re happy. Her grip in the table cloth tightens, pulling everything her way.

“What’s wrong?” Joe asks with a mouthful of noodles. Her eyes snap to him, brows furrowed in confusion, “your face, you look upset. Is it the food?”

She finds it in herself to smile a little, “I’m fine. Just spaced out for a second.”

He doesn’t believe her, so in true Joe-fashion, he talks about everything and nothing to move her attention away from whatever’s bothering her. It would be annoying if it wasn’t a tad endearing.

A silent prayer goes to all deities above when she walks into the empty restroom, Melissa also locks the door to ensure the privacy stays. The ringed fingers gripping her lungs let go, and for the first time since she walked in the restaurant, she can finally take a deep breath. Leaning on her hands against the counter, Melissa looks at herself in the mirror. Time to put your big girl pants on, Schemmenti.

Turning on the sink, Melissa runs her hands under the cold water to cool down, the splotchy red on her chest finally dissipating. Shaking the water from her hands, she nods to herself. Turning on her heel, she forces her shoulders back, spine straight, totally fine. Stepping back into the hall, she immediately collides with another person.

“Shit, I am so sorry,” a familiar voice says as hands hold onto Melissa’s elbows to stop her sway. Long lashes flutter around wide eyes as she only stares, watching your eyes fly from where your hand rests on her arm to her face. Your eyes quickly widen as your hands pull away, though they harden swiftly, concern becoming stone. “Sorry,” is all you mumble before turning away from her, giving up on your journey to the restrooms.

What possesses her, she doesn’t know, but she follows you. Grabbing your arm, she tugs you in the restroom she had just left, locking the door behind her, she leans against it as you just stare at her. The unblinking glare you give is something she hadn’t ever been on the receiving end of, but it feels as awful as she assumed.

“Nothing?”

Your jaw drops a little, and you let out a sharp, breathy laugh, “nothing? Nothing what? Was I supposed to faint?”

“Was maybe thinking you wouldn’t just walk past me when I haven’t seen you in six months.”

“And why’s that?” At her lack of answer, your head tilts, “did you want me to stay behind glass to break in case of sudden realization?”

“Sudden realization?” It could be better to play dumb.

Biting your cheek, you look at the ceiling before you speak, “yes. Sudden realization. Maybe realize that kissing me, wanting me to kiss you, it’s pretty gay. Very gay, actually, in my professional opinion.”

“I’m not gay,” Melissa mumbles, twiddling with her fingers. Maybe playing dumb wasn’t the move.

You nod slowly, “right.”

“I’m not. I love Joe, we’re here for our anniversary. I’m not gay.”

Closing your eyes, you exhale deeply, “glad that’s settled. Can you stop holding me hostage?”

Melissa can feel the weight of your words. You’re not just a hostage of this room. You’ve been perpetually held hostage by your feelings for her, imprisoned for years and years, with never getting the love you bore in return. She tries to step closer to you, but you move at the same time, pivoting around her and unlocking the door. Your name leaving her lips in a cracked voice makes you halt, but the simmering fire in your chest refuses to let you soften.

“Let me go, Melissa. Should be easy, since, you know, you don’t love me, not really.”

“B-” The door shuts in her face again.

This is my solemn vow.

—☽—

Melissa wakes with a jolt, beads of sweat gliding down her spine. Heaving breaths constrict her chest and she drops her head into her hands in an attempt to focus and calm herself. The tight feeling in her chest dissipates as a final deep breath leaves her lungs, face cooling and heart slowing. Lifting her head from her hands, she peers to the right to make sure she hadn’t woken Joe.

Perhaps she would have, had he been there.

Joe was only ever home maybe two nights a week, always ‘working late’ and coming home well rested the next morning. Nina was getting most of his time these days, all his attention, love, and acknowledgement. It was getting hard to keep track of the times he’d almost called her Ni instead of Mel, after it hit double digits, she didn’t care anymore. It was clear now, more than ever, that she was his wife in nothing but name.

Only in her dreams does she get a level of peace, the smell of patchouli and spearmint comforting her in the haze of sleep. Oversized knit sweaters and denim brush her skin in this personal Eden, but the morning sun brings her to gasoline and another woman’s perfume. 

A part of her, deep in the back of her mind, screams, and it has only gotten louder over the last ten years. The voice screams, bordering on blood-curdling, telling her how much she hates him, how much she doesn’t love him, how much she regrets him. Every morning she wakes with him gone, the more she listens to that little voice. Every time she smells Chanel on the Eagles jacket she bought for their five year anniversary, the voice gets a little louder.

The voice warps and becomes familiar as Melissa stares blankly at the empty space beside her. You could? Let me know how that goes. If you were able to see her now, you’d be giving her that raised brow, biting your inner lip to keep from saying something she probably didn’t want to hear. In this moment, she would do anything to hear what you’d say, even if she may cry, even if she doesn’t know where you are.

With her mind running a mile a minute, she was unable to will herself back into sleep, giving up to make coffee instead. As if the universe wanted to mock her, the door quietly opens and closes, careful footsteps walking through the living room before the pause in the doorway to the kitchen. Joe and Melissa just stare at each other blankly, silence permeating their existence in these four walls. Without another word, she just pours him a cup of coffee, spooning in a little sugar before sliding it towards him.

Joseph, to his credit, reads that something is wrong, terribly wrong. There’s no anger on Melissa’s face, not even a twinge of sadness. The few times she was awake when he got home, she wouldn’t even look at him, just frown, but now, nothing. Sipping his coffee, he accepts the fate that comes at him like a fastball.

Before he even fully sits down across from her, she speaks without breaking eye contact, “I want a divorce.”

Joe did not argue, he’d seen this long coming. He saw it when they told her parents they were engaged, how Annette had to purse her lips, Kristin Marie taking her sister aside to talk privately. He loved Melissa, for a time, but he knew she loved the non-existent obligation to him, and he drifted. Regrets of his behavior disappeared the less Melissa seemed to care. Their positions were identical; he is only her husband in name.

By the end of March, he was fully moved out and placing his key in the palm of her hand. Pausing his steps, he turns back to Melissa, pressing a short kiss to her cheek, “I hope you find what you need.”

July is Melissa’s favorite month. No school starting or ending, no prep days just yet, not even a single manilla folder on the coffee table. Just Melissa, Cabernet, and the sunlight. She felt content under the sun, warming her skin and making the freckles across her chest and shoulders bloom. When Barbara invited her to the beach, she almost said no, until the mention of a private beach hut and bottomless margaritas.

By the second marg, the cackles coming from the hut could be heard from the waterfront, not that the two women cared. The third, and beginning of the fourth, the conversation went from silly to serious, both women speaking in not-so-hushed voices.

“He just didn’t care. I said I wanted a divorce, and all I got was okay. Was expecting some sort of fight,” Melissa says as she plays with the pink umbrella in her drink.

Barbara’s head drops to the side, “to be fair, dear, you weren’t really in it anymore either. You can’t seriously think he couldn’t pick up on that.”

“Wasn’t expecting a screaming match or anything, just a talk. I tried making it work, he’s the one who was out and about with Nina.”

“Melissa Ann,” Barbara starts, “you have been mentally checked out of that marriage before you even walked down the aisle. I’ve known you seven years, and I’m sorry, but it’s been clear you didn’t love him anymore. If you ever did.”

The redhead stares at Barbara with a heavy look, “what do you mean by that?”

“I’d like to think I know you well. And knowing you means I see you, see you as you are. That man, any man, is not what you long for.” Putting her drink on the table, Barbara reaches over to grab Melissa’s hand, squeezing it lovingly, “you look more in love in those university photos that you do in your wedding ones.”

Melissa fiddles with her fingers, “I’ll never have that back, I’m too late. It’s too late.”

“It’s not. Not too late to give yourself the space to see yourself, to find who makes you happy,” she reassures her friend. The tears threatening to spill from Melissa’s eyes make her tug her in for a hug, “you will be okay. And you won’t be alone.”

—☽—

Elaine stands from the table slowly, avoiding Melissa’s eyes as she mumbles a bye and leaves the bar. Six months down the drain, all because Melissa wasn’t ready to move in, just barely having given the woman the code to the door so she could let herself in. She’d called Melissa scared and a child, but what hurt the most, a coward. The redhead didn’t even dignify her with a real response, just saying if you’re done, then go. I won’t stop you.

Sipping the last of her drink, Melissa pays the tab for her vodka soda and the cosmopolitan Elaine had, telling the bartender to keep the change as she leaves to walk home. Walking the three miles home wasn’t going to be fun, but she could maybe clear her head, definitely get tired enough to fall asleep on the couch.

Ten minutes into her journey, a voice from nearby was calling out, catching Melissa’s attention immediately.

“Bosco! C’mon, inside time!” The laugh that follows stops Melissa in her tracks, another call of Bosco has her walking quickly to find the source. Under a streetlight, she pauses.

Across the street, in a little fenced yard, was a Brittany spaniel doing laps around the yard, darting and dashing away from the owner. Giggles filled the yard as the dog and owner seemingly played tag, the collar jingling in tandem with the laughter. Green eyes trail away from Bosco. You.

You look the same you had the last she saw you, apart from your hair being longer, smile lines a little deeper. Melissa can’t help it, eyes going to your hands, scanning for rings she doesn’t find. No wedding band, but especially, no constellation. Had you gotten married and divorced like her? Were you just the kind to not wear your ring? She doesn’t think so. Are you happy? You look happy, she hopes you’re happy. How long have you been here? Only two miles from her? Last she knew, you left Philly to no-one-would-tell-her-where.

She watches you stop running, hands on your knees as you speak breathily, “alright, for real. Inside time, Bosco baby!” Tears spring to her eyes as your grin grows, watching your dog gallop towards you and almost knock you over. “Oh, you’re excited to watch Living Single, huh? Let’s go.” Melissa watches Bosco trot next to you as you disappear behind the door, from her.

A watery smile crosses her lips, you were still watching the show you watched together nearly every night. Melissa still remembers the nights where you would play with her hair, twirling it around your fingers as she sunk into your chest, pressing soft kisses to her head as you giggled at something Khadijah said to Max. Those nights were her only sense of comfort, and for years, the mere memory would make her heart quake.

Pressing on, she keeps on her way home. Instead of falling asleep when she finally gets to her couch, Melissa turns on Living Single and curls against the arm of the couch, nudging her nose into plastic-wrapped fabric. She can almost smell the incense and mint gum.

For the next couple of weeks, Melisa takes it upon herself to go on more walks. Walks to the deli, to the bar, to the coffee shop, even to the park. Occasionally, there are days where she takes the longer path, one that passes the fenced yard of a brick building. To her dismay, she has yet to see you. Part of her panics, thinking that you may have seen her and were avoiding being seen. The rational part reminds her that you have a life. Luck just seems to be running low.

On a chilly Thursday, however, she stares at her feet to keep the wind from making tears and smudging her eyeliner. The clacking of steps on the pavement and jingling of a collar brings her eyes up, a familiar spaniel practically tugging against the blue leash. Bosco looks at Melissa’s still form, and starts pulling harder, trying desperately to meet a new friend.

“BoBo,” you almost whine, looking up from the grocery list on your phone, “hell you doing bud-”

Stopping in your tracks, your arm jerks as your dog pulls, but you stay in place. Wide eyes meet, and all either of you can do is stare. With a huff, Bosco pulls again, forcing you closer to Melissa. Nudging her hand, he begs to be pet, forcing her hand on top of his head.

You swallow the lump in your throat, speaking quietly, “you can pet him.”

Wordlessly, without taking her eyes off of you, her nails scratch gently at the dog’s head. Your own eyes flick around her face, only quickly dipping to where her hand pets Bosco. No ring. Shaking your head, you look back up.

“Melissa,” you say with a little nod. The corner of her lips turns up at hearing her name from you. “How are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good…” She clears her throat, “how are you?”

“Yeah, good. You still teaching?”

A little smile stretches across her face, “second grade, over at Abbott in West. Eleven years, almost, now.”

“That’s nice, Abbott’s nice. Micah’s daughter’s starting there next year,” you say, fidgeting with the leash in your hands.

A surprised laugh leaves her, “Micah’s got a kid? Jesus…”

“I know,” you chuckle, “the man who still ties his shoes with bunny ears.”

Bosco takes the second of silence to hop up on Melissa, front paws going to her chest as he tries to sniff and lick her face. The motion shocks Melissa, who only manages a little oof! You’re quick to move, stepping close to hold under his arms and gently pull him back towards you, still hopping and trying to get to Melissa.

“Dude, what the hell?” You say, looking down at your dog, before quickly going back to Melissa, “I’m sorry about him. New people are apparently chew toys to him.”

“It’s okay,” she replies with a smile, she’s more than okay right now. Entirely stunned by the newfound closeness, the time passing around only really hits her as a car honks at a bicycle in the street, insecurity crawling in. Clearing her throat, she adds, “I- uh- it was nice seeing you.”

The little smile falls from your lips, “oh… Okay, yeah. Nice seeing you, Mel. Sure I’ll see you around.” With a little frown, you gently tug Bosco’s leash, him immediately walking with you.

Melissa turns quickly and starts to follow you, almost running to catch up. “Wait, wait. That came out wrong. I didn’t mean go, I just- it is nice to see you,” she speaks through little pants. “Would you wanna get coffee or a drink sometime? Catch up? Only if you want to,” she rushes the last part, trying not to seem as desperate as she is.

And there it is. The little grin she loved so much, had missed so much. You try to suppress it, but it’s entirely impossible. “Whiskey sours?”

—☽—

Whiskey sours. Coffee. Meeting at Wawa for lunch. Diner pancakes for supper. It was small, and then it was damn near every day for weeks on end. Time had taken the anger she had last seen in you, replaced with sheer nerves, and now comfort once again. Melissa slowly gives in and shares little things, trying to gain your trust. The lack of any Joe-mention was telling enough, as if no ring wasn’t practically shouting. To be subtle or to not be subtle, that is the question. But this is Melissa Ann Caterna Schemmenti.

“Random question.”

“Potential random answer,” you reply through a bite of your burrito.

Melissa mulls over her words, “is six months together not stupid soon to move in with someone? My ex called me a child for saying no fucking way.”

“Personally, yeah. Knowing you, even bigger yeah. Clearly didn’t know you well enough to be moving in with you.”

Melissa nods as she wipes her lips with a napkin, “no, she clearly did not.”

The pause of your chewing only lasts a brief moment before you look up, “her loss.” There’s no hiding the blush that covers Melissa’s face.

Through lunch, and the subsequent walk to finish the never ending conversation, neither of you really want to leave the other. Every topic carries to another, nearly twelve years apart coming undone the closer you sit. You fumble through inviting her over, with the mention of thinking you have the ingredients for sours, as if you hadn’t bought everything the night before.

Late into the night, with the TV low and Bosco curled in his bed, you rest against the arm of the couch. Melissa keeps her legs tucked to her chest, chin resting on her knees as her eyes struggle to focus on the screen. Sitting here with you, it’s so hard to not want to be held by you, it feels almost second nature. The churning in her mind makes her entirely unaware of the attention on her.

Shifting, you rest your back against the arm, putting one foot down on the floor. A socked foot pokes Melissa, making her jump slightly. Prehnite eyes flick towards you, quickly scanning over your position. She bites her inner cheek, eyes meeting yours in silent question. The answer she receives is a weak attempt to reach for her, too lazy to say anything.

Lightning quick, Melissa lays on top of you, taking her place in the warmth of your neck. Your arms wrap around her snuggly, holding her as if she would disappear. She feels your nose nudge her hair, a little movement against her forehead feels like a smile, one that matches her own. Gently, with a butterfly's touch, Melissa pressing a short kiss to the column of your throat before resting again.

She loves you. She does, she does, she can.

i’ve got a doctorate in projecting

if you’re looking for a longer form of a similar concept then please, if u haven’t, read the entwined series by @lot-of-nothing it is INCREDIBLE i’m speechless

feedback appreciated as always <3

[docholligay]

As one does when one has reconciled oneself to the inability to chew one's own leg off and escape the trap, I was rewatching 13 in the English dub the other night. I hadn't seen it in English, it's an R&R heavy ep, so sue me.

ANYWHOOZLE, some things I thought of while watching this:

I had forgotten Hughes' motivation for not telling Roy they were coming was, "And miss this opportunity to fuck with him? Please."*

I forgot we get some....""""SCIENCE""" explanation for Roy being a fucking Fire Mage or whatever**.

FIrst of all I love him swanning around with his fucking magical girl sparkles, Roy what even are you, fuck. I am not a scientist, I'm a moron, but I'm pretty sure if you can adjust the oxygen density of air you do not need sexy flint gloves to kill people. You can manage it pretty well all on its own. Especially since it seems he can do it even in a LARGE LARGE area. This is the fucking parade ground. Also also, how can he 'send' it, then, if all he's doing is lighting up dense oxygen? he'd have to be close to it? (This is probably the first and last time I am going to take issue with this. The show doesn't lean on it that heavy so, fine.) It's okay show. He can just be Special Fire Boy. He's Pyro. It's fine.

BUT ALSO, we're being told this because the show thinks I care (I do care about the glove detail in that it is relevant quickly, and then the fact that he can't MAKE the fire is relevant in God's Special Angel, episode 15) HOWEVER the FRAME of the question is asked by one of his own men.

It's the little one, I don't know what his name is. (these are the japanese subtitles. The whole reason I'm not liveblogging the dub is that the dub doesn't have subtitles. Annoying, in many respects. I would even have bought the DVDs if I could get them but NOPE)

and the response is

We see in episode 5 that not only is Roy not immune to using it on people casually, but also, and this is where I personally think he would have seen it, he is happy to use at a way to mark irritation, on the phone with Hughes. How new is this guy? That's not a criticism, it's a legit question! NOT TO BE ANSWERED OF COURSE I AM ASKING THE AIR ITSELF. I do not think that Roy spends a lot of time being humble with his fucking skills. He wears his gloves pretty often.

I am curious about the assemblage of this little unit of his.

Also I love how he basically just dramatically walks around the pitch for this entire fight. Man is not raising his heartbeat. He will not do cardio.

BUT ALSO BUT ALSO. I found support for my thought that he was fucking. Bluffing. with Scar. HE DOES IT HERE.

The dub sells this better, he goes something like, 'cmon the fuhrer knows it wouldn't be fair with me against the kid, I'd love to show off my valor, but he'll never allow it" BUT HE BLUFFS ED BECAUSE HE THINKS HE WON'T CATCH THE CAR (bonus to Hawkeye in the back, imagining herself somewhere else. The range perhaps)

Roy DOES have a reputation that precedes him, genuinely. He can fucking Wreck House. And sometimes a reputation can be its own form of conflict deescalation. "Hi, I'm the fucking Flame Alchemist" DOES have some weight behind it. It just does not dissuade Scar, even not knowing that the rain is going to fuck Roy up (but Hawkeye knows and also can read the room and is like, "hello. May I interest you in the fact that Scar is out of his mind? No. Well, we'll do it the hard way.")

I HJAVE NOT SEEN PAST 17 POLESE PLESAE PLEASE PLEASE NO SPOILERS OR ANYTHINGNGGGGG

*Hawkeye is in the hallway later, arms crossed, Hughes all, 'You look soooooo pretty and I'm buying the first round."

**Do you remember how mad at me that guy got for being like, "Alchemy is just magic lol"? It's so funny to me that now 17 episodes in so far as I can tell it being magic or science has FUCK ALL to do with any theme it's presented other than Ed being a Reddit Atheist at Rose. Why did that guy care so much? Amazing.

[tranceinnumerabletabs]

When Johnny Comes Back pt13

I'd like to mention some of these 'titles' were from AO3 and I'm sorry for how some of these sound. I know a lot of these were truly bonkers and some were character-specific. Y'all better like them they're legit funny at times AND have plausible deniability. Also, just like...2 hours after posting part 12, I REACHED 100 REBLOGS!! LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Sorry it took so long! I guess I hit a writer's block.

tags: @supermegabitchboyexceptimagirl, and @beelzebee

part1, part12

“Poison Breaker. Affirmative Sir. Operation: Deep Infiltration. Whispers of the Damned.”

Huh…those sound familiar?

“Undercover assets. Trapper Keeper. The Art of Subtlety. Hotline.”

Those….are just titles of sites you’ve visited? You think. You don’t memorize the hundreds of sites you visit.

“Tactical Submission. All That’s Said In Low Light. The Captain’s Private Orders. All the Sins You Never Had the Courage to Commit. Silent Weapons, Soft Target. To Drive a Man to Madness. Covert Rendezvous.”

Soap looks confused, which isn’t a good look right now. ‘What’s all this?’ He seems to say as he looks at you. You look confused as well.

You Don't remember this as being a part of your research.

This Wasn't Part Of Your Research.

“Sir Yes Sir. Directive 69: Breach & Enter. Man In Uniform. Under the Hood: Sensitive Material. Bravo Six: Going Dark. Decompression Protocol. Advanced Recon: Close Quarters. Mask-On Compliance. Command Authority: At Ease.”

Johnny looked even more confused. That’s…a lot more than you showed him. You didn’t tell him about any of this and by the sounds of it it seems important.

“Low-Profile Insertion. Kylassified BBC. Private Briefing: The Captain’s Touch. The Alpha Lieutenant. Engagement Protocol.”

Wait. Alpha Lieutenant? that sounds so familiar to you.

“Explosive Affairs. Now You See ‘em, Now You Don’t. Help Me Out (Get Me Off).”

“Hen what’s this?” Soap whispers sharply to you.

“Someone to Bleed. Silent Takeover. Behind Enemy Lines (Barracks Edition). Black Ops Ships.”

Ships?

Ships??

SHIPSSS??

SHIIIIIIPPSSSS??!!

No

no please god no

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Modern Warfare Collection. C4 & Chill. Op Order: Stand to Attention.”

Soap looked worried at your panicked look.

'What are you hiding?'

“Slow Burn Deployment. Headcannon: Operator Edition. Cold War AU. Warzone AU. Infinite Warfare AU. Ship Week Prompts.”

“This isn’t what it looks like” you whisper back but it’s not very convincing when the words Cold War, Warzone and Warfare is coming out of Ross’ mouth

“Modern Warfare Drabbles. Modern Warfare Oneshots. Multi chapter AU Missions. Modern Warfare PWP. Kinktober: Advanced Warfare Edition. Fix-it-Fic: After Action Report.”

He’s literally reading your fucking fanfic history.

“Canon-Divergence ABO AU. WIP Modern Warfare 2.”

ABO?! fml that’s like the worst one?! What could be worse!?

“CoD x Reader."

tHaT wAsN't a fUcKiNg cHAllEnGe rOsS!!

"Reader Inserts: Classified Quarters. Modern Warfare Imagines.” Ross finishes as if he didn’t completely and utterly demolish your dignity in one fell swoop by reading your fanfic history right in front of Johnny

.

.

.

.

“Care to explain all that ma’am?” Ross asks innocuously Now, all three men turn towards you for answers, though Soap is still on your side, he wanted your explanation

You clear your throat, finding it suddenly dry. Was it always hot in here or was it just you?

“I….um…”

At the hesitation, Milton and Ross perk up “Those are just….fictional stories I like reading.” You vaguely say

“Hmm. That’s an awful lot of them military themed”

You nod hastily “yep!” You squeak “I’m just….really into it”

yeah I’m sure you are you whore

All three of them seem to scrutinize you under their gaze. The agents gaze spoke of suspicions and Soap’s never knew you were into that bonny

“So all of this is just a curiosity? You seemed to stay up late on these sites. All these titles are cause for suspicion in one way or another”

you doubt that but I guess they wouldn’t understand what some of these terms would be

“Y-yeah…the stories aren’t….focused on military stuff anyway it’s just….silly stories about the characters” you force out as you wish the ground would swallow you whole. They don’t even seem convinced as you experience an ego death right next to Soap. “It’s harmless! Honest!” You say, digging yourself into a deeper grave.

“Could you show us one of them” Milton challenges

I’d rather you shoot me but okay! You pull out your phone and go on AO3

“Lass what are you doing?” Soap whisper hisses at you, thinking it’s bad.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it” you whisper back. You try to find……nothing too weird. That shouldn’t be too hard right?

right?

You show him the beginning of some slow burn. Nothing crazy happens in the beginning of a slow burn right?

You all sit in silence as old ass men read fanfiction titles right fucking in front of you with varying expressions. But you only had one expression: Pain.

Soap looked like he wanted answers but is waiting till they leave “So they’re really just…..stories..?” Ross gruffs

“Yep! Nothing classified here!” You wheeze Ross of course decided to scroll all the way to the top before you could stop him and read the fucking tags you unwillingly flinch in embarrassment and take back your phone so he doesn’t seen any…..inappropriate tags….and you pray they didn’t. You look at your phone and Daymn these tags are pretty good but not something you’d show your parents. He…didn’t read them did he??

DID HE?

Milton doesn’t seem to notice and continues with the questions “so they’re unrelated to earlier searches?”

“YEP!” Your voice cracks

“Does your ’friend’ also have these….‘interests’”

“Uhhhh……maybe? I’m sure she’d like some of them”

Ross seemed to have enough “alright. Seems….harmless enough”

“Does your friend know anything about deeper searches or your husband’s occupation?” Milton checks again

husband

“U-um….she knows he’s in the military…” you dodge the fist part of the question but “And the searches?” Milton wasn’t having any of that

“I didn’t send her anything I know is classified” technically not a lie

“Did you tell her anything classified?”

“I never knew I even read anything bad! I was just curious”

please leave please leave please leave

They didn’t like that. But what could they do? They shoot Soap a look. He shoots one back, as if to say “leave it to me gentlemen”

The men nod “thank you both for your cooperation.” Ross grunts. They move to stand up and you relax slightly Ross straightens his tie as he talks “Be mindful of where you look and who you share it with. Curiosity could get you in serious trouble if you end up on the wrong side of a security breach“

“If you have any questions about classified material, there are legitimate channels.” Milton eyes you both.

pfff! ‘Legitimate Channels’?! If you wanted to watch hours of propaganda you’d watch marvel movies

Ross casually pockets his notebook filled with information the CIA couldn’t waterboard out you. They start to see themselves out but then-

“Hold it right there folks” Soap objects. The men turn to look at him. “Are ye gonna stop watching us? I’m not too keen on being monitored”

The men exchange glances “we’ll be in touch”

Soap doesn’t seem satisfied with that. Seems he still needs to….do things under your table and need their heads away.

“Aye. Aye. I Ken it’s yer jobs tae be cunts. I’m one myself” he reminds “but I’d like tae take a look at her ‘investigation’ myself and dinae want tae be watched”

Oh so that’s why

The men look at each other, straighten up, and try to make him understand “It’s not in our hands sergeant” Milton speaks “we can try to put in a good word. But we can’t make guarantees”

Soap thinks for a moment “aye, I shoulda known...Hmph. That’s alright gentlemen. I’ll just tell my captain and Laswell”

The men look even more serious “alright. I’m sure they’ll clear her name for you.” They start to see themselves out again but before they could fully leave, the older one, Ross turn his head back and says “It’s got to have you back sergeant” before finally leaving.

Both of you sigh in relief, the tension seeming to leave you both as you relaxed but neither of you are relaxed at all. Your dignity was in complete shambles, you had a lot to explain and Soap now had another mission as soon as he came back.

A long silence befalls both of you. Neither of you knowing what to say and needing to contemplate. You were there, reality crashing on you realizing how you’ve just stumbled into and Johnny? He’s now just had a new list of objectives to complete:

1. Interrogate you, why didn’t you tell him about those? are you hiding something from him? Have you been lying about what you know?

2. Tell Laswell and Price everything he knows and everything that happened. He already sent screenshots, they haven’t responded, and there’s been…..recent updates to suspicious activity he has to investigate.

3. Try to clear your name. But only if he’s concluded you deserved it. And he’s worried you didn’t deserve it. Those titles did sounded suspicious

4.Contact the shadow. How dare he talk to his wee bonny lass? Was it random? Was it bait? Was it targeted? Was it a part of something bigger he might not survive?

As both of you were processing the events, neither of you knew what to say. Soap braved a glance at you, you were looking right at him…wanting to speak but not knowing how to start. His eyes softened. How could he think anything malevolent of you? He’s sure you have an explanation. He put his signature teasing smile on his face.

“Husband eh? Looks like they made it official for us.” He jokes

You look surprised, before slowly cracking a small laugh and shaking your head. He smiles at the sight: you, on laughing at his antics on his bare chest. His solider brain impelled him from the side of his mind that he usually shut down when he came back to demand

To demand answers now.

But you were precious.

Too precious

But he had a job to do. His Call of Duty

“Lass” he clears his through and tries to keep his tone lighthearted as to not alarm you but the look in his eye was serious. “Care tae explain all tha’? Ye said ye told me everything”

Your eyes widen and your cheeks start heating up, you shove your face back into his chest, an action that would usually have his heart beating faster and his grin wider, but not now, cuz that’s MiGhTy sUsPiCioUs. His eyes grow even more serious. “What’s wrong bonny” his pet name sounds forced “are ye hiding’ something?”

You don’t seem to catch the weight of his tone, too engulfed in the absolute embarrassment of the events. Bad news. “Lass” he says through clenched teeth. “Care tae explain?” He fights the urge to grip your hair and force eye contact. He needs answers.

You catch on and snap your head up “I-i-it’s not what I-it l-l-looks like! I can explain!”

no you can't

oh god how am I going to explain I read smutty military fanfiction?! HE’S IN THE FUCKING MILITARY

“Ye said ye told me everything”

“I did!”

“Then what was all that? You didn’t show me all those.”

“I-I-I answered truthfully! Honest!”

“So all th’ was jus’ stories?” He asks, suspicious

“Yes! I promise!”

“About what?”

"Just….some..military stuff”

“Ye seemed eager tae make sure sheriff Sunburn and Deputy Mustache dinnae read it.” He presses

“It’s just….um….about the characters themselves. Like about lieutenants, soldiers, sergeants, mercenaries. Not about combat or battle….usually..”

So you’re learning about their means to an end? The average person doesn’t read hours of Mein Kampf, Das Kapital, The Art of War, The Turner Diaries etc for the writing style. So he scowls more as if that’s worse “an’ why would ye want tae know that?”

“Just……for fun..”

“Fer fun?”

“Hmm hmm” you force out.

Oh lord, if you’re listening, please help. I know we haven't always gotten along with my reading history and every thought I have when Johnny is shirtless but please!

“Then why don’t I have some ‘fun’ too? Give me your phone” he challenges, determined to find you out. Your eyes widen and your throat goes dry

oh lord please no

Your reaction seemed to confirm his suspicions and I look of betrayal and denial seeped into his face. You lied to him? You lied?! What were you plotting?

The look on his face broke your heart and you panicked more “I-i-it’s not bad! Honest! C'mon I need you on my side Johnny! You know I’d never do anything bad!”

“Honest?” He seemed to mock “well if ye wanna talk about honesty. Let’s talk about how ye went behind my back and learned everythin’ I’ve been trying tae hide from ye, only for you to end up being someone I’d fight against and ye won’t even let me not believe it!”

“Nononononono” you shake your head. Then. You sigh, defeated

“…..don’t laugh…”

Soap seemed to ease up at that.

“It’s…..uh…transformative works based on preexisting concepts made by regular civilians”

“Does it end with the army lads plantin’ a bomb or rescuin’ a kitten? I’m sure ‘The Captain’s Private Orders’ and ‘Operation Deep Infiltration’ sound like stories with happy endings. Next thing I see is you pitching’ American Sniper tae our wee Simon fer a bedtime story”

oh they have happy endings alright

You groan and place your hands in your hands “they’re not even about military bullshit! They’re about military video game characters!” You slip

“….stories…..about video game...military…” he mumbled to himself. Then…slowly, his entire demeanor shifts. His shoulders drop and his face twist into disbelief

“No. fucking. way” he looks at you but there was no malice, making you foolishly relax as well “what?”

“Lass…”

“Johnny?”

“…were ye readin’ fanfiction?!” He yells in absolute disbelief!

“W-what! I-I-I”

“Don’t try tae lie tae me sweetheart!” He laughs, and despite it being at your expense pride swelled in your heart at making him laugh so hard. “Ye wee filthy lass!” He laughs.

“N-no!!” You yell in a blushing defense but that just confirms his suspicions further and he wasn’t having any of that. You're dignity was going for a round two and there is no tap outs avaliable

“I cannae believe it! The wee Innocent Princess has a dark side! Tell me lassie, do ye like the idea of a big mean soldier tossin’ a wee ting like you and fuckin’ her silly?”

“It’s not all smutty!” You slip up. Well shit now you’ve confirmed it!

“Is that so? are they all big dark, brooding and misunderstood?” He keeps going, merciless “or are they too busy shagging each other? An’ I’m right here! Without the plot holes or filers! I’m proper jealous! Am I not strong enough fer ye Bonnie? I promise I’m a better fuck than Audie Murphy!” He laughs, clutching his chest in faux heartbreak

“Noooooo!”

“Dae the lads recite Shakespeare tae woo ye? I should try tha’! O, my sweet lass, how doth thy beauty compare to a well-placed grenade?’”

“Okay well fuck you too Johnny”

“ye wish! Is this what ye’ve been reading at night?! All cozy in yer Jammies readin’ about an alpha male in yer bedroom? I gotta see this!”

“Jounnyyy!!” you shove your face into your hands, unable to face him

“What’s yer favorite one lass? ‘Tactical Submission’? ‘*Deeeep* Infiltration’” he leans in close to you, making sure to be right in front of your hands on your face

“What was it again? ‘Captain’s Private Orders’? I could give ye orders if ye like lass”

“Oh I’m sorry Sergeant jealousy, I didn’t know it was part of protocol to get your CV before reading in what I thought was the privacy of my home!” You whine into your hands then he grips your wrists and rips them away to revel in your shattered dignity

“I dinae think the day would ever come where I’d find this about ye! Are ye that patriotic or have I swooned ye? I shoulda went in tae makin’ porn! Then at least ye’d be Diddling tae a proper braw belter!”

You groan so loudly you sound like an angsty teen on their phone. You look away, your face too hot to breath properly “Who needs recruiters when they have me! Are you tryin to tell me somethin lass?” He leans in way too fucking close making it hard to breathe.

You whine indignantly “yeah!” You choke out. His eyes brighten and it pisses you off more right now “l found that that military men are really sexy! You’re just a shit example!” You yell out.

He throws his head back in laughter. Finally you can breathe without his smothering proximity. “Awww lass! Don’t be like tha’!”

You huff and don’t meet his face

“Lassie” he calls out, still holding your wrists

“Fuck off Johnny”

“Awww don’t be like that hen. I’m sure it’s a nice way tae keep warm when the real thing isn’t there”

“Johnny I swear to god I will sell you to foreign forces for a corn chip if you don’t shut the fuck up”

“Fee a corn chip? Nae I’m sure you can bargain fer better.” He grins wider and leans back in “like…say….a night with one of their soldiers.”

“Johnny I swear to god-“ He gasps as if he suddenly got an idea “Ye really should show me some!” Your eyes shoot open in horror

“absolutely not!” You yell “ain’t no way!”

He whines and places both hands in the couch ‘wall’ behind you, encasing you. You knew he was going to try and roll persuasion. He rolls a 19 but you roll a 20 on insight and see his roguish mischievousness through those twitter-blue eyes. He lowers himself a bit and looks up at you with those big blue pupper eyes, it’s especially ethos with those bandages “Bonny-” he starts, dripping with faux sincerity

“No.”

“Lass pl-“

“I said no Johnny”

“Hen”

“I said NO Johnny! I will throw Simon at you don’t test me!”

He whines like a dog and encircles me more, trying to apply pressure.

“Princess.”

You sigh, hot faced with anger and embarrassment “what.” He grins.

“I love ye”

Though those sad puppy eyes were optimized to disintegrate your will, they were gleaming with mischief

“shut it” you shove him off to run away but he throws himself on top of you like a clingy dog and pinning you on the couch “don’t gooo, say it baack”

“Get off me!” You whine, fantasizing about locking yourself into your bed room and scream into your pillow

“Not until he tell me I’m more braw then the Bawbags ye read about!”

“Fat chance sergeant suds!” You struggle under his the immovable object that is Johnny with the unstoppable force that is your rage.

But then-lightbulb!

💡💡💡

He’s taught you many things, some of which includes how to evade capture by government agents and how to get out of being pinned. You decide to use one of the tricks he taught you. Usually it might not work on the big bad sergeant soap, but he’s sore, fresh out of the hospital, and hasn’t worked out in weeks. He’s not at full strength. You’ve got this!

“Well then yer stuck here!” He taunts and continues to make fucking fun of you “Why don’t ye write naughty fanfiction of me? I’m amazin’!”

“Oh I’ve got a naughty story for you Sergeant!”

You hook your legs around his waist, shutting him up quick. You shift your hips, buck up hard, pushing your knee against his hip. The unexpected momentum makes him yelp and it rolls him enough to loosen his hold as he instinctively tries to catch himself from falling off the couch.

“long. live. the king!”

You snake an arm free and shove his shoulder with all your Disney movie might, tossing him off the couch with a thud

You scramble to your feet as he stares in surprise “I know all your tricks Sudsy!”

“I taught ye that! Y-ye traitor!” He groans. You turn to skiddadle away.

“Honey wait!” He calls after you but nope! You’re gone! He shoots up to chase you. You slam your door and lock yourself in your bedroom to sulk, scream, punch something and pout.

“This isnae over Bonny!” He says truthfully, not only was there the other stuff to take care of but he has to read some of that! “You cannae escape me forever!”

“I just did!” You scream through your bedroom door and flop on the bed to scream.

“This is war bonny! And I don’t lose!” You can hear his laughter from the other room. He stands there, arms crossed as if waiting for you to come out. After a few beats of silence he decides to grant you a shred of mercy and leave you to your pain. He moves to drop on the couch. He still has work to do, but at least he’s sure you’re definitely innocent. Well, innocent in terms of crime. He still hasn’t read those fics.

He sees Simon and tries to pet him. Simon, however was having none of that. He was being malicious mean and scary and stares at Johnny with a sneer that could curdle dairy as if to say that crime wise his hands are not the cleanest.

He has concluded that Johnny Upset You and refuses to be pet by him till an Official Pardon has been issued by the princess herself.

He hisses grumpily like he’s saying ‘you’ve angered the queen’s envoy, human. No cuddles for you’ and enters your room to comfort you. How? Oh he’s got a dream. Lol jk. Like this:

https://youtube.com/shorts/a-MvV2Oo4cE?si=UMNuw2ndX3Oxj9uC

[luckycrystal]

affections || William Saliba x Reader

The internet is convinced that William Saliba and reader are in a hostile relationship, with no feelings attached. Y/n goes through their comments and sees that those moments, where they think you two were being hostile were actually loveable moments.

William Saliba x black reader!

Y/n did not know why people thought William and her were in a hostile relationship. The comments from his fans on her Facebook, yeah, call her old school but she still loved to use the app because it let her the ability to interact with post from only persons she knew, unlike insta and the rest where she saw lots of influencers, ads etc that seemed to have various opinions on them.

'he always looks away from her when they are in public'

Under this comment was a link leading her to a clip of her and William at a charity event, they were sat side by side, she was digging into the refreshments when she noticed his eyes on her. They gaze met, with him immediately looking sideways.

"Babe," She smirked. "Did you see something that you like?".

"It's just," He licks his lips. "You look pretty in that dress".

"Thanks" She said as she saw his face heat up, through put that night he did not make eye contact with her because everytime he did, his whole body and face seemed to turn a shade of pink. She watched him at every chance, smiling at herself.

Unto the next comment,

'i legit saw a picture of him eating spoiled noodles, like does she even cook'

Another link to get another picture to explain this fans theory. A picture stands of them together, him eating a bowl of slightly discoloured noodles, which took her back to memory lane. It was a Monday and he had just come to to training, and she had sat by the kitchen door on the floor looking deflated.

"Darling" He said placing a kiss on her forehead. "Thought we spoke about you sitting on the ground".

"I- Yeah you told me that the cold ground is not good for me" She said and he waited. "And? Let's get up, and I will warm up something for you".

Panic set in as she held him back. "No, that's not needed" William raised an eyebrow. "Fine, I tried to make something for you but it turned out-".

He helped her up and took her to the kitchen, opening the pot. At first he stood stunned, "I told you, you didn't have to cook or enter the kitchen, all those gender stereotypes are forgotten in the past, next time let me cook something instead".

"I know, but I was just trying to be useful" She said staring down.

When she looked up, he had been quietly eating the noodles, his face as straight as a pole, but when they eyes met, that moment he smiled at her. "Do you want food poison? Put it down" she warned.

"And let your efforts waste?" He smiled. "Its not only food that's here, your love is cooked in here too, how can I waste it?".

That was where the infamous picture came from. Her eyes captured other comments, but she simply scrolled through till she saw one that caught her eye.

'she looks loose, like why she is standing near Saka like that? does she want him too?'

Y/n scoffed. Her and B were close friends, and she had no feelings other than friendship with the star boy, that picture of them hugging was actually from William birthday. They had joined together to play a game against Declan's and William team, the odds were against them as Declan seemed to be doing good at everything.

Until B and Y/n changed their plan, and started exchanging answers or hints through looks or sounds. he Martin had brought a chess board and they were playing it then, so Y/n would take tap the table twice to signal when he should move right or left, and he would clear his throat if he felt it was the wrong move.

They ended up winning (of course) and while she was huddled, celebrating she saw William taking a picture of both of them. Declan shook his head fondly like 'do they think we don't know?' and William stared lovingly at her, "they might be a bit clueless but at least she's happy".

"What are you looking at?" Present day William asked while holding her from behind.

"Your fans comment"

"Even I don't read that, it's not healthy" William stilled. "They will either love you or hate you all in the speed of light, public opinion does not last, no matter what they say it's better not to get annoyed".

She smiled turning to face him. "I know that," then she paused, cupping his face. "I was just curious".

He took that opportunity to lay kisses on her lips. "What are they saying?".

Y/n paused. "All interesting assumptions..." She said swaying from place to place as he lifted her up to kiss her even harder. "Nothing like our reality is though".

"you know I love you" He said whispering into her ears, "now so you want to hear how much or do you want to keep reading online junk?".

"now, how much do you love me?"

"infinity, it can only be infinity".

THE END

[forsakenwitchery]

bts of these photos Aemond: ElvenDen Helaena by me

I know that gifs look weirdly cropped, that's because no one was looking how vids were recording, and it's a miracle some bts are salvageble at least as far as heads go. even without the necks. :c

still cute tho. and not-so-cute, the 2nd one will forever be whoa in gif or photo form for me.

My cosplay tags:

Photos, gifs, videos from costests/cos shoots/cons

Inprogresses (costumes, 3d printing etc)

since it's my blog and I can talk at length about anything, here's a story of how I came to ship Helaemond TL;DR: fanarts and actors. & my anti S2 / Condal & Hess musings again. Wasn't planning on venting, but TG treatment still makes me so mad that I can't do one without the other.

Okay so my friend kept telling me her friend looks a lot like Aemond. I've met him once before this costest at the elven photo planner & he really does, but I still wasn't fully prepared for how uncanny it will be in costest. 😹 It's uncanny to be point it's CRAZY especially as up close as in the gifs above. Y'all are not ready for the full cosplay.

ANYWAY. So I sort of started thinking who among HotD characters I could try putting together for a costest for this to make sense. Alicent was out of the question since I don't look like her at all, and with me tending to look younger than I am, it would have looked even weirder than in the show. Eventually, I was choosing between Hel and Alys. I didn't ship Helaemond at the time, and we had no stills of Alys back then, so Hel seemed like an easier choice, plus I had my Dany wig.

And then I realized people actually shipped them, and at first I was like, 'huh'? Since they barely had any scenes and whatnot. Not that the greens had a lot of scenes together even back then. I wasn't particularly in the fandom, too thank god, I wish I could unsee some TB's hot takes. ANYWAY. I genuinely wasn't planning for this costest to be shipping galore at first, because I didn't know this was even a thing. Then I started looking up the fanarts and started to see the appeal. xD No joke, it legit happened when I was looking for references in a span of a few days. Then I saw how Ewan and Phia were hyping them up for S2 and talking about them in S1, and I was fully on board... Only for S2 to turn out to be so underwelming and character assassinating for all the greens blacks too, I really liked Rhaenyra in S1 and it's insane how much of a nothing sandwich she is after S2. By the time we shot the costest right before S2 finale, I had so little hope we'll get anything. Or more like. I knew we still haven't seen the scenes Phia and Ewan were talking about, so I knew we were getting something, just probably something that will simultaneously shit on Aemond and the ship since TG can't have nice things or feel anything but disdain for one another per S2 aside from Alicent and Hel because they aren't male therefore can be nice to each other. And at that point, I was so invested that I'm in my delulu land now, surrounded by my plans to do Helaemond justice in the best way I can. With maybe some side plans to try gathering the whole TG to ya know. Annoy people who hate them even more. xD Jokes aside, I'd really love to do that, I'd love to at least shoot Targtower kids as, you know, not hating each other. Shippery or not, doesn't matter. I'd just really like to do some wholesome green things, but yeah atm we're just Hel, Aemond & Alicent, and tbh I don't think it's possible to find an Aegon over here. I tried reaching out to my friend in another city, but got more of a 'no', than 'yes' answer, so idk where to find Aegon unfortunately.

I might eventually do Alys since my face works for both Hel and Alys & I can pull off one hell of a bitchface I'm actually surprised how I somehow come off so soft as Hel, but I have a feeling the show will make her TB she practically already is, and since Aemond is the eViLeSt person to ever evil in Westeros per Condal & Hess aka the only character making sense amids ongoing war with magic medieval nukes ffs, and doesn't deserve good things... I don't see a universe in which Alysmond will be really inspiring, not fucked up from the get go. I don't trust them. At all. So like. Giant question mark there. Helaemond priority. Fuck this show. Like if I had the resources to, I'd honestly shoot a bunch of scenes, not just photos. Hell, I'd reshoot S2, TB included, lol. But my ass is broke and I'm doing both mine and Aemond's cosplays so. 🤷🏼‍♀️

'Cause not that they haven't fucked up Helaemond… Or Alicent's relationships with her sons... Every single relationship of the greens went down the drain so fast it's like. The. Fuck? No, seriously, it still enrages me Hel helped Daemon of all people?? And seemed to almost wish Aemond would just drop dead right there. ANYHOW yeah… Yeah. I legit have so many ideas. I love using props and all that, and with her needlework, love for bugs & her overall tragic story (plus the dreamer storyline on the show the show doesn't touch like AT ALL), I want to do so much!

TL;DR again: the fandom made me do it. Just like the fandom made me dislike TB a lot. Or more like, the loudest TB stans with double standarts and zero understanding of how Westeros and people in it should function. And that it's not real world and no one is 'coded' anything related to our world or politics (or at least they shouldn't be no matter how much Condal & Hess try to push contemporary problems into the show to pat themselves on the back).

I realize there are dubious people on both sides of the fandom, but really not even Condal & Hess can make people like or dislike characters as much as their stans can. Oh also, WHY THE FUCK ARE THERE EVEN SIDES. They literally pitted the fandom against each other, it's so sick and twisted and all sorts of fucked up.

Back to Condal & Hess, them trying to sink TG so much made me sympathize even with those on it I didn't care about at first, like Criston, and simultaniosly dislike the Saint-RhaeRhae side and it's vicious vocal part of the fanbase... I even liked Daemyra in S1, but after S2 I don't want to touch anything or anyone related to her with a ten-foot pole. Even tho I still like some characters on TB, they just ruined everyone. To some extent on both sides, but for TG I sort of want to do things in support of them and in spite of Condal & Hess. Thereas for TB... After S1 I was thinking of cosplaying Rhae, but LMAO NO. Just no.

Tagged this with all the anti tags I mention, so don't come at me, I don't have time, and do have a block list. You can argue with the wall or those who want to argue. If you can't disagree with someone & be civil about it, it's not my problem.

[jesterkoops]

Sharing vessels et al.

Fresh musings dump about the latest...

I don't know that I completely trust Rehgabi. Not in the sense that she's deliberately plotting anything, but in the sense that I get the feeling she's strongly driven by ideology and the conviction that what she's doing is right. But like in many stories where people who rebel against a tyrannical system can become blinded by their own beliefs, I feel like she's promising things she can't really promise just to convince Mark to go along with it. "Your Gemma is still in there". How do you know?. "It will be you and her, together again". Way to spoil to the audience that it's never going to happen. While I think good things can come from the reintegration, I think a lot of shit is going to come too.

Mark and Helly are relationship goals. The way they dealt with this whole sex/autonomy/consent thing? BRAVO! What I love about their story is that, first and foremost, the writers aren't interested in messing with the audience and dragging drama out for cheap romance points. I was legit scared that they might go down the route of the pregnancy plot being the way Helly finds out Mark had sex with Helena, which would have been horrendous on so many levels (not just for the characters in-story but for the whole "women bodies in fiction" argument too). So I was so pleasantly surprised and relieved when they had him confess what happened relatively quickly.

Second of all, things are going to get so fucked up now that Mark is (more? completely?) reintegrated, so the the fact that they chose to write them have sex while it is still mostly i!Mark, so that it can be a "pure" experience that is theirs and theirs alone makes me feel like these writers really care about the characters and the story and aren't just using them as tools to manipulate the audience and make us to bond and care about them just so they can do horrible things to them, and destroy them, just to make us suffer (looking at you, GoT).

I can already foresee so much pain in their future though, now that i!Mark is going to be completely hijacked by o!Mark, with potentially life threatening consequences. Who knows how their story will end, considering Helly is also sort of on "life support", as her existence is dependent on the technology that can keep her and Helena severed. But I think/hope, if I'm right in what I said above, that the pain that's coming will be "good pain", the kind that makes good writing and not torture porn. It will be pain that makes sense for the story, and no matter how it ends for them, these moments won't be cheapened or tainted.

Helly being obsessed with the fact that this is HER body, asking Mark if it was different having with her, and the way she insists on dissociating herself from Helena, to find nefarious intentions into everything Helena does, is so understandably desperate. But, eventually, I feel like she will have this view challenged somehow, even just for the fact that it makes for better writing than just confirming all her beliefs.

I thought the makeshift tent scene had a lot of similarities with the actual tent scene. Yes, it was more giddy and awkward and teenage-like, but the framing, the kissing on their knees, the looking in the eyes, and, not to sound like a pervert, the way the... act was filmed... very similar. Similar enough yet different. I don't get people who see these as drastically different scenes portraying drastically different dynamics. When Helly asks Mark if it was different with her, he doesn't answer. Brings me back to Britt's analogy about the studio vs live version of a song. This is exactly what those two scenes are like to me.

And finally... HELENA MY DARLING. They are doing such a wonderful job with Helena because she's just as much of a mystery to me as what the fuck is up with Gemma. They are holding their cards sooooo close to their chest I literally am throwing my hands up and admit that after this episode I have no idea what she's playing at. I think she was fishing to find out if and what o!Mark knows about "Gemma," and that's why she was asking about his OTC experience and bringing her up (and what would she do about it, if she knew what he knows?). But maybe she's also noticing the glitching (from when they were together and then on camera?), and she suspects something is up with his chip?

There's also the human element of having experienced love and a connection with his innie, as well, for sure. Again, there were parallels between innies and outies in this scene too. Their flirty banter over him meeting her father was so similar to the flirty banter over the car wash coupons. And OMG that "you'd be the first" line. That's one of those statements like "I didn't like who I was on the outside", where I think some truth slips inside the lie. Yes, it was banter, but I also think that, while I don't subscribe to the "Helena was a virgin before Mark" theory (I mean, I can't rule it out but I mostly highly doubt it), her never having a chance at a relationship in her entire life? That I can buy 100%.

I expect a ton of drama and angst next episode with what's happening to Mark's brain. First of all, how is he even going to go into work? Is he even going to wake up by next episode or slip into some kind of coma? And how much will Helly freak out if he doesn't come into work the day after they have become officially an item? Then again, there's that scene with them holding hands and Mark having what looks like a bloody sleeve, so maybe he will be fine and come into work but the glitching and bleeding will get worse?

I also have more thoughts about the Gemma stuff more broadly, but that's for another post.

[sgiandubh]

Legit dumbfuckery

I have mentioned this person in the comments of my last post, she did not disappoint, Thus, I shall make an exception to the rule I set myself and mention her handle:

In doing so, she confirms what I have been thinking from the very start, that she probably was BIF's Anon. An Anon trying to make her claim more credible by closely copying Getty's legends of their pics.

The pic she showed this fandom is not, however, included in the Getty database:

It comes from another source, as yet undisclosed.

The pic comes complete with the usual shite slinging to the shipper community. This time, after explaining C was splendiferous (she was, but that left eye did betray stress, LOL) and McElusive was invited as well, she starts ranting about shippers being 'much more insecure with the narrative they created, thus bringing us much fun.' Plus of course, 'SAM HEUGHAN" (no need to shout, lady, this is not your favela), the real obsession at stake, 'who is at home, only thing is we don't know whose home, since nobody does for months or years'.

In the process, she calls shippers jumentos. This means donkey, but it also means:

... jackass, imbecile, stupid. Wow, really? Wow.

And then, karma is a bitch:

Somebody pops in, with a common sense 'that doesn't look like T. to me...'?

The answer is monumental: she was in doubt, you know, but hey, 'based on the glasses' she thinks it's him. But 'even if it's not him, he's still her husband'.

Please take a bow. I mean, you have to, it's mandatory. It is, after all, based on the glasses.

A model that millions wear everyday.

We could try this universally acknowledged truth to other life situations:

Based on the glasses, the Sun revolves around Earth.

Based on the glasses, a river runs through it.

Based on the glasses, everything's going to be alright.

From now on, every time I am in doubt about anything, I'd pick the most convenient choice, based on the glasses.

I was just about to push the publish button and I saw this:

Ahem:

Thank you, Gods of Coincidence. Or, perhaps...?

You know, based on the glasses...

[bronx-bomber87]

Hi!! I just spent the last hour scrolling through your page and I adore everything you have to say about tim and lucy…

So I was curious (because I’m a month into the fandom and I don’t really know anyone yet) what your thoughts, predictions, expectations for season 7 would be?

Sorry if you’ve posted something similar before, please point me in the right direction if you have :)

- Loren

Hi! @moderatelydelusional Nice to meet you, Loren. Thank you for the lovely ask :) Making me all red with your nice comment. So glad you liked everything I've had to say about our lovely ship. Appreciate it so much. Before I answer I want to say welcome to the fandom! We are glad to have you here. 😊 There are so many good blogs on tumblr for them. Glad you chose me as one of them. I am honored. ❤️ I haven't really tackled s7 at all so this is a good ask. Excited to answer it. I'm a detailed woman. So imma break your question down into sections if that's alright. I legit don't know how to be brief about this show or them haha Also will do it with gifs cause that's my thing. Here is my detailed answer below. Hope you enjoy it.

Thoughts on S7- Well we've had ZERO and I mean ZERO spoilers or indicators about this upcoming season. Which I do love them keeping it close to the vest. Honestly I do. Just means they have something incredibly good lined up. They just want to make sure we are surprised. Can't fault them for that. But I'm dying for anything. The end of s6 left us wanting so much more with the scene above. We are all chomping at the bit for any content. I know Eric had a interview couple weeks back about s7. From what little he was able to divulge I am EXCITED.

Here is the link to it. Talks about Tim needing to EARN Lucy back in more ways than one. How she is the love of his life. (Tell us something we don't know haha) But I love Eric referring to her to as such. The personal development for Tim to come as well. Like I said they haven't given us much of anything yet. It's hard to have thoughts when we don't have much to go on. But it seems like it'll be well rounded season. It's always been a character driven show so I think it'll be more than just our ship. Which is fine with me. It is an ensemble cast after all.

I fell in love with this show as a whole when it first launched back in 2018. Give me more Tim/Angela, Lucy/Nyla and Wopez. I'll take all of that. I have been all in from the Pilot. I remember watching it on my lunch break on my phone when it first premiered. I was hooked. When we finally get a promo and a friggin premiere date I can probably be more in depth with my answer. Since we don't have a lot to go on it's hard to have in depth thoughts ha But from what little they've let out I'm quite excited for the journey we're going to embark on. We just need a start date for said journey. All we know is Jan but I need a hard date LOL

Expectations For S7. -I expect Chenford to get back to the softness above. It won't be easy but I expect we are headed back there. I think it's gonna be quite the journey to get us there. Both Tim and Lucy are going to need to grow before we do. They both still have shit to work out. Lucy with her career path and the rough time she had last year. It wasn't just Tim that crushed her. I mean it was a huge headliner but wasn't the ONLY one. Our girl has some communication problems and is like her soulmate in how she handles emotional distress. Expect that to be addressed on some level.

Tim obviously has a lot to make up for and he knows it. That is the first step. I expect we see Tim working constantly to improve himself as a person. To be worthy of Lucy again. He's not going to half ass his healing. He is going to be very Tim in how he goes after it. This is going to bleed into every part of his life. I expect to see that all over his character development in s7.

I also anticipate that we'll see an even stronger and more refined version of Chenford in Season 7, with their characters continuing to grow and evolve. Strong separately and even more so together. I cannot wait for the slow burn of their reconciliation. Going to make all the hurt worth it. It'll be Chenford 2.0 and we are all going to be grateful for that. While losing our minds together it's happening. I would rather have our ship and characters be real and develop. Better that than to be puddle deep like John/Bailey. I'll take the pain of growth over the stagnation of boredom. i.e. Bailian.

Predictions-Obviously I want to predict something like above. Them starting over. Kisses, hugs, and if we're lucky enough to get a repeat of 5x12 on screen. That one I'm straight just trying to manifest lol Possibly Celina catching them or almost doing so when they get back together at her place. These are more hopeful than actual predictions lmao But I mainly predict a deeper intimacy between them when they do reconcile. Stronger communication. It'll be beautiful. I also think we're about to see a side of Tim Bradford we haven't seen before. As we know Lucy brings out the best in this man. The absolute best. We're going to see that on full display.

I think he will continue therapy. I also think we’re going to see a very determined Tim driven in his quest to make amends to Lucy. Which will bring out that new side we haven't seen. It's one of the facets of s7 that has me most excited. And not just for the Chenford portion. (Which does make me giddy to no end) But for him as well. You follow me long enough you'll know I love Tim development. So this excites me so very much.

We watched Tim take strides in his mental health walk and as a person in s6 after 6x07. I expect we're going to see the fruit of that not just in his amends to Lucy. But professionally as well. Tim took quite the fall professionally after being bounced out of Metro. He has fences to mend to Grey, Lt. Pine, and those around him as well in patrol. I see him making those strides and then some.

I predict Lucy is going to finally going to get grounded professionally and personally. (She does have a new roommate. I can see development here too) Lucy got very lost in s6. I think s7 she will be righting her ship. Finding her purpose. My guess was T.O. for her with her dipping her toe with Celina in 6x08. She's so empathetic and willing to slow down and teach. I think that could be a good path for her. Whatever her trajectory is I think it's going to be be worked out in s7 for our girl. It's time for her to get some damn wins. I hope that answers your ask LOL Or maybe was too much? HA Either way I can't wait for s7. I need a promo and a premiere date. Seriously ABC, you're killing us.

[lover-of-mine]

I'm gonna start this off by saying that this has been ping-ponging around my head like that old dvd screensaver, quicking around and getting more unhinged every time it hit a corner since April. And while this is a meta on the cemetery scene in Death and Taxes, I will be going back and forth in the whole show, so I don't know, buckle up, grab your delusional juice, and come with me if you feel like it.

First thing about that scene is that it tries to make you think about the equine therapy conversation in Dumb Luck.

They are in a location we have never seen before and probably will never see again, the outfits are similar, and even the circumstances of the conversation could be read as close to each other, considering Eddie wasn't doing well after almost dying, Buck is definitely not handling his death well. I made a way too detailed meta about the cinematography of buddie during Eddie's breakdown era (you can read it if you want more details) but the main thing about the dumb luck conversation is that Eddie is finally letting Buck in after continuously shutting him down when he tried to offer help and that's reflected on the way they filmed the scene, the way they are talking, moving, positioned in the frame. It's about Buck reminding Eddie that there's hope after all. Considering the moment Buck's in, with them alluding to that conversation, you would've expected for them to do a similar thing with Buck, right? That this scene going to give Buck the same type of peace the equine therapy talk gave Eddie.

But it doesn't. One thing that's kind of a pattern with Buck, Eddie, and Eddie reassuring Buck (if you could call 2 scenes a pattern) is that they have Buck looking up at Eddie (I also talked about this in more detail here if you're interested) but that's interesting because of Buck's height, he's the tallest person in the room, so he's not usually looking up at people, but something about Buck as character is that he has the tendency to sit in higher places, so he's always higher, and he even picked a place where he can sleep in a high spot.

But when he's getting reassurance from other people in his life, they are both usually sitting down, at the same eye level.

But when he goes to Eddie for reassurance, Eddie is standing up and Buck is sitting down, so Buck is literally looking up at Eddie when he goes to Eddie for advice. And Eddie is always focused on Buck, in Home and Away, Eddie is reasoning with him, and in Recovery Eddie is trying to give Buck what Buck is asking while not pushing his boundaries.

Why is that relevant here? Well, Buck spends the whole conversation in the cemetery trying to get Eddie to look at him and Eddie spends most of the conversation looking forward so he won't have to.

And that alone is very interesting because Eddie is always looking at Buck. I could legit put 100 screenshots here to prove it. So the fact that Eddie can't look at Buck here, means something. Because Buck wants Eddie to be on his side, he needs Eddie to tell him he's doing the right thing, but the way he's talking is making Eddie shut down.

Buck wants answers, right? He wants the easy way out. He died, he has feelings about it he doesn't want to deal with, so he's looking for whatever answers he can get so he won't have to. But the way he's talking sounds a lot like the way Eddie talks to him in Kids Today when he drops Christopher off with him before the tsunami. Very you're alive, get over it thing Eddie had going that ended with him literally destroying everything he had. So, like, we know that's not the way to go about near-death experiences, it doesn't end well because the pressure has to go somewhere and let's face it, Buck has never dealt with anything that happened to him ever. He can't just keep moving past the shit he's been through, at some point, that's gonna catch up to him.

But the thing about the actual content of the conversation is the way that Eddie tries to do the thing he usually does, reason with Buck, "been down that road, don't recommend it" or "or you don't know her the way he does" or "now am I allowed to ask how you are", because it's how they work, but Buck shuts him down with the "I feel like she sees me, like she really sees me for who I am" because that threw Eddie off balance in their relationship, in their friendship really, considering they way they showed us buddie from in a flash to mixed feelings, Eddie is trying his best to be someone Buck relies on, the way we've seen him rely on Buck through his trauma recovery. And one thing we see Eddie constantly do is back away so he won't get hurt once things get too intense. He puts space between him and whatever is bothering him, he ran to LA to escape his parents' judgment (and to be closer to Shannon but his parents played a part there), he kept Shannon at arm's length through most of the time she was back in his life before she died, he kept pushing Buck away after the lawsuit, he pushes everyone away really before his PTSD took him down. Dude retreats from the fight if he's not sure and Buck throws him off balance. Because up until this moment, Eddie thinks he's helping, but we see him realize he was wrong and shut down in real time.

He's still trying, but his thing now is agreeing with Buck. This gif has 11 seconds, black and white because I wanted the whole thing in one gif, but Buck is trying to get a reaction out of him, but Eddie already moved to a whatever you say buddy mode. AND EDDIE JUST WON'T LOOK AT BUCK.

So Buck wants to know if he's doing the right thing, Eddie is agreeing with him not because he agrees with him but because now he thinks that whatever he's doing is not helping so putting distance between them will be what's best because Buck is getting what he needs somewhere else so he needs to minimize the damage to himself.

And the distance thing is something that stays until the end of the season, because during the first half of 6B, they are together the whole time, mixed feelings being obviously the biggest example, but they made a point of highlighting the fact that they were very close outside the firehouse, just to stop. They were chilling at Buck's loft, they were out and about scheming the fire captain, Buck looked more comfortable at Eddie's than he did in his own place. But then we don't even see them together in the hospital after the bridge. Like, there's s p a c e now.

And I spent a really long time trying to figure out what was going on with this scene that made such an impression on me, and it's that Buck doesn't sound like someone who believes in what they're saying, he sounds like someone who's justifying themselves and hoping they are doing the right thing. And Eddie doesn't really let him get away with this line of thought, not usually, but he does now, so they leave that conversation with different impressions of how it went. Buck thinks he's right and Eddie is just backing the fuck off.

And a while back it downed on me what other scene this made me think of. And that's the fountain scene in merry ex-mas.

They are even shot in a similar way, the off-center wide angle, the close-up from a side angle where you can see the other one slightly blurry, the focus of the conversation angled toward the front of the frame, everything happening in an outside location we will never probably see again, the way they are not looking at each other. And the conversation is similar too, I mean, sure they are not talking about dying but it is a big decision in Eddie's life that sounds like Eddie is justifying himself and needs Buck to agree with him. And Buck is agreeing with him, and not talking about it even though we KNOW he has opinions because he kept trying to talk about it with Chimney because Buck doesn't think it's his place to have an opinion and offer it to Eddie. Both scenes sound like they are talking and understanding each other but what the scene is showing us is that they are not.

And something about the way they are pretty much never looking at each other is that it is a way to show they are not seeing eye to eye in a situation, the most extreme example I can think of it is when Eddie drags Buck out of bed in Kids Today because they are pretty much never looking at each other there.

But to have them face the same direction is a really easy way to make you feel like something is wrong, especially if they are not moving, because if they are standing in the same spot for 3 minutes they could've turned to face each other, but they don't, because the message here is that they are not really seeing each other. And that in a conversation where Buck is talking about being seen by someone else????? Like, come on, that's so on purpose.

I also wanna add a take that's not mine, all credit to @anxieteandbiscuits for putting this particular thought in my head with this post, that's basically about how the "dating someone you rescued? that never ends well" line might also be another justification for why Eddie chooses to stay quiet. Because one thing is true, and that is that buddie do be rescuing each other. And it really sounds like something Eddie would do, to justify to himself not doing something that could make him lose Buck any way he could, because romantic relationships are very unstable, no matter how much you want it to work, how much you love each other, there's a very real level of unpredictability in a romantic relationship that doesn't exist in their friendship. So to imagine him going "the friendship is good, the friendship is what I need, I won't do anything to change that because I don't have to and it probably wouldn't end well with our track record anyway" makes a lot of sense too.

If you made it to here, I love you <3

I have more metas here if you feel like reading more of my brand of insanity.

[deadn30n-arch]

not a negative post just a note since that anon got me thinking but literally if u wanna write but ur unsure how to go about it with me this is a visual representation of all you have to do to me to get me to write with you

&& i know it can seem a little daunting since i recently altered my rules, but i legit only did that for the sake of my own sanity bc of everything going on irl. i have big con plans toward the end of this year as me and my bestie are FINALLY meeting after almost 4 years and i wanna make sure i'm sufficiently saved for it, so i'm working extra. it seems strict, and maybe i appear like i'm already content w/ who i have to write with but i assure you i'm very much open to writing with anyone. if we're mutuals, it means i wanna but i might not know how to go about initiating that myself either and that's ok!!! we're all sillies here!!!!

you don't have to have a set plot in mind, or even a super thought out idea to approach me with. you can literally just point at someone on my roster and say 'i want that one' ( or multiples ) and i'll be like ok let's do it.

fun fact: this is precisely how i got close with both east and ven. by us pointing at each other's characters and going; 'let me have that one' and then absolutely going feral. i've done very little plotting with BOTH of them as we've alwys just kinda let things flow naturally to see where they go. which is wild when you take into account how long our threads are but it's just kinda like an example of what writing w/ me is like.

it's nice if you do have a plot in mind, but it's not necessary. a barebones idea is just as good in my book 'cause the beauty of being both a novelist and autistic is that i can take the smallest thing and turn it into a fucking mountain thanks to my insane imagination FLDSKAJLKJGDH I WISH I WAS LYING BUT I AM TRULY A MONSTROSITY

also, you don't have to ship romantically with me to write with me. i'm fully aware 75% of what i write is romantic, and that's just bc as an aro person, i'm kinda a sucker for writing fictional romance. but i love other stuff just as much. in fact, a good portion of what i write with my best on discord isn't even romance, but a lot of angst and strife and other shit.

i don't know if any of this made sense bc i'm so goddamn sleep deprived but i hope it helped alleviate any anxieties people have toward writing with me LKSDJGHD as long as you don't mind me being a little ditzy sometimes and forgetting to respond ooc or getting distracted by ten million things, i promise my answer is always gonna be yes if you come to me with any dynamics or the bare minimum idea of wanting to write. i love writing, i've been doing it since i was thirteen and writing crossover TRC x Hellsing rps in a fucking notebook in middle school with my friend i am Insane DFLSKJGHD

[oceangirl24]

I'll admit i was very angry and hurt that i was on your block list until i read your user profile. sorry you got bullied and harassed by this person. now i'm kinda of nervous of who she is because i don't think i could take 16 months of bullying.

I debated overnight if I should answer this. I am going to respond so that my readers understand what's been going on.

This ask is very typical of the type of thing the person who harassed me, and plagiarized Autumn in Philadelphia does. Since she found out about the link to the report, she has sent readers and has impersonated readers to get the link to that report which details not just the plagiarism but also her harassment.

I have had mutual readers gain my trust, participate in my BMW discord server, and pretend to be supportive through this ordeal all while relaying information to her.

She has also used her readers from other fandoms to try to do the same.

This is why I preemptively block readers who gush over her or indicate that they are in private communication with her (all of this is public information on her stories that I found while compiling my report).

Why is this ask typical of her methods to gain access to me and the report?

There is no indication to which user profile this information is on as those of you who follow me know I post on three sites.

I would think if this ask was by a legit reader and not by her or one of her friends (she is blocked on every single site I know we share as are any associates of hers that I'm aware of) I would think the reader would want me to know who they are so I can directly address them and the site they are on.

Which I would do privately.

The fact that immediate concern is about who she is also bothers me. I would assume once I named the person, they would want proof in the form of the link to the report.

That will not happen.

If this ask is from a legitimate reader or follower, then I really am sorry you've been caught in this.

To be clear: I am not upset with anyone who follows her or interacts with her works. This issue should have stayed between us but she chose to bring others into it and use them.

Even if you have been a part of this with her, I'm honestly not upset with you. I know how manipulative she is. I'm sure you thought you were helping a very sweet loving Christian writer obssessed with Jon and Shawn (aren't most of us obssessed?).

I fell for it myself. Hard.

I care about all of my readers very much, but it has come to the point where I have to protect myself.

If this is not a legitimate ask and you are doing this on her behalf or she's gotten another account, then we now stand close to 20 months of harassment.

To my readers, you know where to find me and how to interact with me that is not AO3.

I thank you for sticking with me through all of this and for supporting AiP, whether you comment or simply just read as I post.

I appreciate you more than I can say.

Aria