#anyway if you want to have your whole entire fucking world rocked please read the darkness outside us it's INCREDIBLE

[lvllns]

every time i see someone say that the darkness outside is a romance set in space i’m like. not.......really.

[victimofthemusic]

your body's writing checks (that i wanna cash)

*

part 4 of the i need a man to make me (sweat) 'verse

read part 1, part 2 & part 3 here :)

*

Sometimes, in a rare show of vulnerability, Bradley will let Jake take the reins.

Or:

After waking up from a nightmare, its Bradley’s turn in the cockpit, so to speak. Aka: the Jake tops Bradley fic that this fandom is severely lacking.

*

Author's Note:

I can't stop writing porn for these two, I swear. This series has also snowballed in a way that never expected nor intended it to. Thank you guys so much for inspiring me and encouraging my fixation and obsession with these two. Also send help because I've seen the movie three times already and I want to see it a fourth. I swear it keeps getting better and better every single time I see it.

Title taken from Man to Make Me Sweat by Leslie Powell. To the surprise of literally no one.

Leslie, sweetie, I'm so sorry I keep putting your brother in smutty situations.

To E, who started this mess to begin with.

This would be a prequel to take me where I want to go and a sequel to barefoot, sunkissed, after burn grease, but literally all of them could be read as a stand alone.

Enjoy :)

*

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Jake croons, running a soothing hand down the dips and valleys of the hard body beneath him. “So good for me.”

Bradley whimpers, splayed out on the sheets underneath him, spreading his legs wider, grip tight on Jake’s biceps, nails biting crescent moon shapes into the tan skin. “Jake, I— please.”

“What do you need, baby?” Jake murmurs, pressing a soothing kiss to his sweat damp forehead, his nose, nuzzling into the soft, flush warm skin of his cheek. “My sweet Roo,” Jake breathes, crooking his fingers in a come hither motion that has Bradley keening into his mouth and he grins, amused and smug, all at once. “That what you want, sweetheart?”

Bradley’s eyes flutter closed, long lashes casting spiderweb shadows over his cheekbones, Adam’s Apple bobbing deliciously as he pants for air.

God , he’s fucking beautiful, Jake thinks to himself with no small amount of awe. 

“ Jake,” Bradley breathes, rocking his hips in time with every thrust of Jake’s fingers, back arching off the sweat soaked sheets. “ Fuck.”

“Feels good, doesn’t it, sweetheart?” Jake murmurs, licking at a trail of sweat, sucking another bruise into Bradley’s neck. 

“Please,” Bradley begs, sounding wrecked. “Baby, please.”

“Tell me what you want, darlin’,” Jake whispers, thumbing over a nipple, groaning when it pebbles under his touch. “You know I’ll give you anything you want, Roo, you just gotta ask for it, baby and it’s all yours.”

And it’s a truth he knows down to his very bones. He’d give Bradley the moon, the world, every star in the sky, if that’s what he wanted. He’d set the world on fire and tear it down with both hands, if it would make Bradley happy. He’d give him his entire body and soul, his whole heart, if that’s what he asked for. They were his to keep, anyways, and always have been, from the very first moment Jake laid eyes on him. 

“You,” Bradley says, tone achingly sincere, amber eyes dark with want and desire. “Jus’ want you. Wanna be all yours.”

“You have me, baby,” Jake assures, pressing a sweet kiss to his full lips. “‘M all yours, Roo and you’re all mine.”

“Show me,” Bradley breathes, panting when Jake scissors his fingers, groaning at the stretch. “Jake, baby, please. Fuck me, I’m ready, just—“

“Okay, okay,” Jake whispers, pressing a soothing kiss to his lips, his chin, his jaw, easing his fingers out of Bradley, shushing him gently as he reaches for the bottle of lube. “I got you, baby, just hold on for me.”

He slicks up his cock, shivering at the friction, the catch and drag of his callouses on the sensitive skin as he strokes himself at a leisurely pace. He’s so fucking hard he could pound nails and he has to grip the base of his cock in a death grip when Bradley asks, almost demurely, cheeks flushed a pretty pink, “Can I ride you?”

Jake groans, cock down right aching at the mere thought, the absolute picture perfect mental image it paints–Bradley on top of him, fucking himself on his cock, using his body for his pleasure–”Yes, baby. Fuck, yes, you can. Of course .”

He shuffles out between Bradley’s mile long legs and lays on his back next to him on the bed, all the breath leaving his lungs when Bradley straddles his lap, knees bracketing his hips and Jake has exactly two seconds to collect himself before Bradley’s gripping his cock in his hand and then heat, tightwarmsogood, envelopes him, knocking the breath out of his lungs. 

Jake’s hands fly up to find purchase on Bradley’s sweat slicked hips, both of them moaning in harmony as Bradley sinks down on him, slowly, inch by inch, until Jake’s buried in him to the hilt. 

Bradley’s lips part, all the breath whooshing out of him in a soft oh, eyes fluttering closed as he takes a moment to adjust, wiggling his hips to get comfortable and Jake hisses at the friction, heat licking up his spine at the way Bradley’s body grips him, hot and tight and warm and sofuckinggood. “Easy, baby.” Jake chides, squeezing his hips. “Just—give me a second.”

Bradley trembles with the effort to stay still, but he manages it and Jake shudders out a breath, heart thundering behind his ribs as he tries to center himself so this isn’t over before it can really begin. 

It’s just—it’s been a while since Jake’s done this. Bradley’s never really said it, but Jake knows he prefers to be the one doing the fucking and Jake doesn’t mind—he loves it when Bradley fucks him, the way he moves inside of him, filling him until he’s overwhelmed with it. He loves being Bradley’s sole focus, the center of his universe and the thing that makes Bradley come undone. 

But sometimes, in a rare show of vulnerability, Bradley will let Jake take the reins, let him take him apart and slowly piece him back together again, one kiss, touch at a time. 

Usually it’s nights like tonight, when Bradley wakes up in a cold sweat, chest heaving in an attempt to get oxygen into his burning lungs, physically here but mentally back in the cockpit of the F-14, tone ringing in his ears, fingers grasping desperately at ejection handles that won’t engage. 

They don’t ever talk about it—and maybe they should, but Jake isn’t going to take what Bradley isn’t willing to give. Not when he gazes at him with wet lashes and haunted eyes and whispers out a, “ please” that sounds like it takes everything inside of him to utter, like it physically pains him to even bring himself to ask for anything in the first place. 

It makes sense, Jake supposes, as he gently rocks his hip upwards, a groan catching in the back of his throat, Bradley’s been alone for most of his life, every adult in his life leaving him behind in some way or another, and while Jake knows how to push and needle people until he gets what he wants, he knows Bradley, better than he’s ever known anyone. He wears his heart on his sleeve, but guards his old hurts behind a wall of armor that Jake hasn’t been given the keys to yet. 

And it stings, more than Jake wants to admit, but he can be patient. He’d wait forever and a day for Bradley Bradshaw if he had to. He may not know the cause of the hurt, but he can be a temporary balm, the anchor that keeps Bradley tethered to reality, keeps his feet on the ground, even when his head is soaring high above the clouds in a place Jake can’t save him from, no matter how much he wishes he could. 

But he can give him this, he thinks to himself, as he wraps his arms around Bradley’s waist and holds him in a vice like grip, cradles him in the safety of his arms and fucks him, slow, deep, pressing kisses to his sweat soaked curls, the curve of his cheekbone, the tip of his adorable nose, those full, kiss swollen lips, swallowing every whimper and whine, drinking them in like he’s Dionysus and every sound that drips from that lush mouth is the sweetest drop of wine until he feels almost drunk on the man writhing in his lap like he can’t get enough. 

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Jake whispers as he rocks into him, letting the tip of cock grind against that bundle of nerves that makes Bradley’s nails drag down his back, no doubt marking him up, but hell if he cares. “So good, sweetheart.”

“ Baby,” Bradley breathes, tangling his fingers in Jake’s hair. “God, I– ”

“Easy, darlin’,” Jake murmurs, nuzzling against Bradley’s flushed cheek. “I got you.”

Bradley whines, rocking his hips, fingers tangling in the chain of Jake’s dog tags, thumb rubbing over them like a touch stone as he fucks himself of Jake’s cock, using his body for his pleasure and it’s so fucking hot, makes Jake’s head spin until he’s almost dizzy with it, resting his forehead against Bradley’s, soaking in the hazy look in those chestnut eyes he wants to drown in, reveling in the intimiacy of holding Bradley close like this, wringing those sweet little noises of pleasure from his plush mouth, inhaling every exhale, floating with the high of being the one to make Bradley fall a part like this and piece him back together, one fragment at a time. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Jake admits in the space between them, like it's a secret, solely for them. “So goddamn pretty, baby, you’ve got no idea what you do to me.” He can feel his release blooming at the base of his spine, liquid heat spreading through his veins and he speeds up his thrusts, taking Bradley deeper, harder, grinding his hips, dragging the tip of his cock over Bradley’s prostate on every up stroke, reveling in every breathy little ah ah ah it drags out of Bradley’s kiss swollen mouth. “Want you all the damn time, sweetheart, could spend every minute of every day fucking you.”

“ Jake ,” Bradley all but sobs and it sounds like a plea and a prayer, fingers grasping desperately at Jake’s shoulders, his back and Jake prays they leave bruises, love letters of Bradley’s desire for him to carry with him throughout the day, tangible proof that Bradley wants him. Him and no one else. 

“Come for me, baby,” Jake whispers, nuzzling sweetly against Bradley’s nose, pressing a gentle, almost chaste kiss to his full lips. “C’mon, Roo, come for me, sweetheart.”

And Jake watches, transfixed as Bradley shudders apart in his arms with a choked off whine, long, damp lashes fluttering, eyebrows scrunched, pouty lips parted, head of messy curls tilted back, exposing the long, smooth column of his tanned throat that Jake can’t help but sink his teeth into as he follows Bradley down the rabbit hole of bliss, coming inside the cradle of Bradley trim hips, giving a few more aborted thrusts of his hips to drag out the warm, syrupy sweet pleasure until they lay there, a sweaty, panting tangle of limbs, unable to tell where one starts and the other ends. 

He slowly, carefully, slips out of Bradley, a few minutes later, pressing a kiss to his forehead, his lips, before he pads into the adjoining bathroom, coming back with a cool washcloth that he brushes gently over Bradley’s pliant body, wiping away the sweat and grime of their love making. He hesitates when he reaches Bradley’s ass, eyes transfixed on the cum that leaks out of his well used hole, leaving behind a lewd trail over the paler skin of his muscled thighs. He can’t resist dragging his fingers through it and pumping it back into Bradley’s over sensitive body, cock giving a weak twitch in possessive satisfaction when Bradley moans, squirming, like he can’t decide whether he wants to push Jake away or keep him there.

“You’re a menace,” Bradley gasps, but the look he shoots him over his strong shoulder is one of fond amusement and molten heat. 

“ Your menace,” Jake corrects with a grin, but he lets his fingers slip out and continues his mission of wiping Bradley clean—or as clean as he can get him until they decide to drag themselves into the bathroom for a proper shower.

He tosses it in the direction of the hamper when he’s done, climbing back into bed and twisting himself around Bradley’s warm body like a vine, big spoon to his little spoon. He smells like sweat and sex and a little like Jake, too and he can’t help but bury his face into the slope of his muscled shoulder, inhaling more of his scent, pressing gentle kisses to the steady flutter of his pulse, stroking his fingers over Bradley’s chest, right over his heart and Bradley settles into his embrace with a content hum, brushing a kiss over his wrist. 

They lay there, tangled in messy sheets and just exist, watching through the gauzy white curtains as the blue glow of the moon turns into the blue dawn of a new morning, the sound of the morning tide lapping at the sand just outside their home and it’s in this safe, serene space that Bradley whispers, “I dreamed it was you.”

Jake feels something inside him still, but his hands don’t stop their lazy pattern over Bradley’s chest, his belly and back, waiting with bated breath as Bradley takes a shuddering inhale.

“You were the one in the plane. With Mav.” Bradley elaborates and every word sounds like it pains him to admit, but in a display of stubbornness and bravery, a mixture that solely belongs to Bradley Bradshaw, he continues, voice soft, far away, “I was stuck on the carrier and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t—I couldn’t move and by the time I could I was—“ too late, he doesn’t say but Jake hears it and it makes his heart twist in his chest. Bradley shivers, sinking back into Jake’s arms that tighten around him on instinct alone and says, voice wrecked, “All my dreams lately are about losing you.”

The utter devastation in his voice breaks something inside of Jake, makes his heart feel like it’s being held in a fist intent on shattering it, makes him breathless with it, eyes stinging with tears and he brushes a kiss over Bradley’s shoulder, nosing at the warm skin that smells like the two of them and lets it soothe some of his own rising panic.

Because he gets it. God, does Jake get it. 

Because there’s nights where he wakes up with dagger two is hit, dagger two is hit still ringing in his ears, a scream of anguish trapped inside his throat, tears blurring his vision and he has to listen to the rhythm of Bradley’s breathing, feel the weight of his body next to him, rest his hand over the center of his chest and feel the steady beat of his heart to make the panic, the heart wrenching fear that he was too late, ebb away. And even that, sometimes, isn’t enough. 

He still has moments, when he’s sitting across from Bradley at dinner or riding shotgun in the Bronco, Bradley tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel in time with whatever song is on the radio, that he has to remind himself that this is real. That Bradley is here, alive and whole and happy and he wasn’t too late and this isn’t just some grief stricken figment of his imagination. 

They’re alive. Both of them. They made it back. Together. They survived. Together. 

“You didn’t lose me, baby,” Jake whispers, pressing a kiss to the side of his head, nuzzling into his tangled curls, pressing him just a little closer until it feels like they’re one body, one soul and even then, that doesn’t feel like enough. “I’m right here, darlin’, and I ain’t going anywhere. Not anytime soon. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Bradley shifts in his arms, rolling over until they’re face to face, forehead to forehead, noses brushing together in an eskimo kiss that makes Jake’s heart flutter, sharing the same breath, the same space, legs slotting together until they’re pressed close together underneath the sheets, Bradley’s gaze a heavy weight on his, eyes burning copper in the beginning rays of sunlight coming in from the window. 

Jake cups his jaw in hand, thumb tracing over the curve of his cheekbone and gazes right back, curious as to what Bradley’s searching for, but letting him look, hoping and praying he finds whatever he needs in Jake–hoping and praying that it’s enough, whatever it is. 

“I know you can’t promise me anything,” Bradley begins softly, vulnerability shining like gold flakes in his eyes as they flicker between Jake’s. “Just don’t leave me.”

Not like everyone else, he doesn’t say, but Jake hears it anyway and he vows to himself, then and there, that no matter what happens, Bradley Bradshaw will never know that kind of pain, ever again. Not if Jake has anything to say about it. And Jake always has to have the final say. 

“I promise you, Roo,” Jake whispers, words strong and sure. “That I will do everything in my power to come home to you.” He licks his lips, his own vulnerability creeping in, the fragile pieces of himself that cracked under the weight of those few, heart stopping moments when he thought he really lost Bradley for good and are only just now beginning to mend rearing their ugly, splintered heads when he says, damn near implores, “But you have to promise me the same thing.”

Bradley kisses him, slow and sweet and whispers, “I promise.” And Jake knows he means it. “I love you.” Bradley adds, even softer and Jake knows he means that, too.

“And I love you, baby,” Jake returns and it’s a truth he knows, down to his very bones. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“Ditto,” Bradley murmurs sleepily, snuggling deeper into Jake’s arms. 

“Are you trying to one up me?” Jake asks, incredulous, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips, even as his own eyes slip closed and sleep starts tugging at this brain, intent on dragging him under. 

“You started it,” Bradley mutters, warm breath ghosting over Jake’s bare skin. 

Jake huffs a laugh, pressing a kiss to Bradley’s wild curls. “Just as long as you finish it, baby.”

“Always,” Bradley vows, pressing a kiss to Jake’s chest, right over his heart. 

“Go to sleep, Roo,” Jake orders gently. “I’ve got you.”

And I always will, Jake thinks to himself as Bradley’s breathing evens out and he slips into a slumber, his head pillowed against Jake’s chest, a perfect fit, like he belongs there, like it was made just for him, forever.

*

Author's Note:

First of all: This is the first fic in this series I get to post where HANGSTER IS FINALLY A RELATIONSHIP TAG WOOOOO!!!!!

Second of all: Thank you guys again, from the bottom of my heart, for all the love and support on this series. I love writing for these two and I can't wait to share the fics I've been plotting with you guys :)

Feel free to come yell at me about all things Top Gun, Ice Mav and Hangster related. I love hearing from you guys <3 I would also love to hear any fic ideas you guys may want, who knows, I might get inspired and write one or two ;)

Until next time :)

[wandaromanova]

Left Behind

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cussing, death

A/N: hi! this was a request! hope you guys like this one! y’all can blame @midgardianweasley for this one. happy reading <3

anon requested: Natasha x fem! reader. Reader and Natasha were in a building on fire trying to get citizens out and a wooden beam lands on reader. It’s too heavy for Natasha to lift it but won’t give up. Reader is screaming for Natasha to go! Giving her a smile that everything will be okay! A fireman then pulls Natasha out of the building against her will seeing the whole building collapse in reader.

Summary: Natasha and Y/N go on a mission, but don’t make it back together.

Word Count: 1.6K

| masterlist | request rules/guidelines | wips |

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

You were an Avenger just like your girlfriend; Natasha. You had met the redhead when you first joined the team.

You were one of the highest-ranked S.H.I.E.L.D agents and Fury had decided to recruit you into the team of heroes. You had heard many stories about the Black Widow and to say you were a fan was an understatement.

You had an immense amount of respect for Natasha. Her past wasn’t a great one, but she turned her life around and made it beautiful. She didn’t let her mistakes define who she was and you admired that.

The assassin had taken a liking to you. You guys immediately hit it off. About six months after your arrival, you began dating Natasha.

Natasha’s room became yours too. You’d spend your nights laid on top of the redhead as she stroked your hair gently. You’d close your eyes and ask her to say anything because the sound of her voice was your favorite.

She’d sing Russian lullabies to you. You were the only person she’d ever let hear her sing. She said she was a terrible singer and not letting anyone hear her was a gift, but she was actually amazing at it.

Her husky voice sent chills down your spine whenever she would speak. So when she sang to you in Russian? You were speechless.

You felt blessed to know that Natasha was truly herself in your presence. No one had ever seen her true colors, until you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You were the person that Natasha went to for everything.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Exhausted after a long mission? She’d run into your arms as soon as she’d land. Steve and Tony annoying the fuck out of her? She’d rant to you about how small their brains were.

Devastated after a mission had gone wrong? She’d find comfort in your presence and your words. You’d whisper soft reassurances against her ear as you’d rock your bodies side-to-side.

Receiving good news? You’d be the very first person she’d tell as the excitement took over her. You’d match her energy, feeling just as excited as her, if not more. Natasha would beam as you’d press a soft kiss to the crown of her head, mumbling an ‘i’m so proud of you’ against her scalp.

You were Natasha’s person and she was yours. You genuinely believed you were made for one another. From the way your hands fit like two pieces of a puzzle with one another, to the way your thoughts and ideas seemed to always align. You guys just got each other in a way no one else could.

So, naturally, you were always assigned partners on missions. You two had the best communication on the team which led to tons of successful missions. However, communication couldn’t prevent nor predict the surprises of enemies.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

You and Natasha were sent undercover to a gala being held by one of the leaders of Hydra.

The goal was to capture him for questioning and keep him in custody. That should be easy, considering there was booze everywhere and everyone was either tipsy or black-out drunk.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Well yes, it would’ve been easy; if your cover hadn’t been blown.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You were currently sat on the target’s lap as he not so subtly stared at your cleavage. You were with him in a private area further into the party, while Natasha remained in the public area.

The drunk man looked up at you and you smiled down at him; trying your best to hide your disgust. However, he didn’t smile back at you.

You were caught off guard when he abruptly shoved you off of his lap, your body colliding with the marble floor.

“You’re an Avenger. You bitch!” You quickly stood up at his words and attacked him. You spoke into your earpiece while fighting off the man.

“Nat, our cover has been blown. I need backup.” You said as the man landed a heavy punch onto your abdomen. You stumbled back and he took the opportunity to rush out of the room.

“взорвать это место, сейчас! (blow the place up, now!)”

Your eyes widened at his words. Before you could rush out of the room yourself, an explosion pushed you back. Your body collided with a wall and you let out a scream of agony as a beam from the ceiling landed on top of you.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

The sounds of screams and the fire alarms accompanied the ringing in your ears. Your only thoughts being; your pain and Natasha.

She had been on her way over here before the bomb went off. Was she okay? Did she get hit by the force of the bomb? Was she gone?

You tried your best to lift the beam off of your body, but to no avail. You realized that a piece of metal that had been sticking out of the beam had lodged itself into your chest.

Your eyes tore away from the beam on top of you and landed on red locks. Natasha stumbled into the room; or at least, what was left of it anyway. She paused in her tracks at your state.

Tears threatened to fall from her eyes as her hands shot up to cover her mouth, a muffled gasp escaping her throat. She quickly got it together and rushed over to help you.

Nat got down on her knees, not caring about how harsh the rubble was against her bare skin. She moved to lift the beam, but you stopped her.

“Natty, no. If you lift it, I’ll bleed out.” You sent her a small smile before you began to cough. Natasha’s heart sunk to her stomach at the sight of blood pouring out of your mouth.

“I have to get you out of here, babe. We have a movie night planned, I have to make sure that still happens.” Nat tried to joke in an attempt to console you, but it was more to control her own fear than anything.

Your conversation was interrupted by the sound of another explosion. The building quaked as flames began to invade the room. She needed to go; now.

You shook your hand that was sticking out from the beam slightly. Nat got the message and held your hand with both of hers tightly.

“You need to leave, honey. This place is going to collapse any minute now.” You croaked out, ignoring the metallic taste in your mouth.

“I’ll be damned if I leave you behind. If you’re going down, I’m going down with you.” You couldn’t help but smile as you took in every inch of Nat’s face.

She was absolutely beautiful. Even with the dust and dirt littering her face and her worried expression; she was still the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.

The flames began to rage. The smoke was beginning to cloud your vision of the woman in front of you. You rubbed one of her hands with the back of your thumb, not minding the pain that accompanied the action.

“Go. Now. It’s okay. I love you so much and you aren’t leaving me behind; you never would and I- I know that.”

You stuttered towards the end of the sentence as you were overcome by an intense chill. You were losing so much blood and it wasn’t going to be long now before you were gone.

Your eyes drifted towards a figure entering the room. A firefighter. His eyes widened as he noticed both of you. He rushed over to help you, but you stopped him.

“Hey buddy, I’m a goner regardless if you get this off of me or not. Get her out of here. You can’t save me, but you can save her.”

You managed to let out as another fit of coughs shook your body. More crimson liquid spilled out of your mouth and Natasha finally let her tears fall.

The man nodded solemnly before he grabbed Natasha by the waist. She struggled against his hold as she kicked and screamed; her arms reaching out for you.

“No! No! Please let me stay! I can’t leave you! You can’t leave me!” Natasha’s words paired with her tone of agony and desperation tore your heart apart.

All you could do was smile lovingly at her as you slowly felt the life leave your body. She was going to be okay eventually and that’s all you wanted for her.

“I love you, moya lyubov (my love). It’s okay. Take care of yourself.”

You spoke quietly, but it was loud enough for Natasha to hear. She watched as the bright light that once filled your irises turned to a blank stare.

Natasha fought even harder against the man’s firm grip as she sobbed out. He had finally managed to get the both of them out of the room and out of the building. This all happened in the span of a few minutes, but to Natasha, it felt like an eternity.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

The firefighter placed Nat down once they were a good distance away from the building. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she ran towards the building, but before she could make it back in; the entire structure collapsed.

Natasha’s knees roughly hit the floor as she took in the sight. The building that you were in was nothing but broken concrete and rubble. You were buried beneath all of that carnage.

Natasha sobbed without care. She couldn’t give two fucks if people were staring at her with pity or sympathy. She had just lost the love of her life.

Natasha couldn’t help but blame herself. If she had gotten to the room sooner, she could’ve gotten the both of you out of there. You wouldn’t have been crushed by a beam.

She wouldn’t have had to watch as you bled out. She wouldn’t have had to witness firsthand; as the soul she had fallen in love with left the world.

Natasha cried out into the night. The chaos going on around her turned to white noise. Her surroundings were in slow motion as she mourned.

Each tear that fell from her eyes represented each obliterated possibility of a future with the woman she loved.

Each scream that left her mouth served as curses to every higher power there was, for so cruelly taking the love of her life; you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

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[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 308: VIBE: CHECKED

Previously on BnHA: Lots and lots of Shindou idk what else to tell you.

Today on BnHA: Tired Nomad Deku rescues Shindou from Muscular, and us from Shindou. Muscular is all “OH BOY I SURE CAN’T WAIT TO FIGHT DEKU AGAIN AFTER HE TOTALLY KICKED MY ASS THE LAST TIME!! I’M SURE THIS TIME WILL GO DIFFERENTLY SEEING AS HE’S HAD ALMOST AN ENTIRE YEAR’S WORTH OF ADDITIONAL TRAINING, AND ALSO HAS SIX FOURQUIRKS NOW, IN ADDITION TO THE CONFIDENCE THAT COMES WITH HAVING EIGHT OTHER PEOPLE’S SOULS CHILLING OUT INSIDE HIM OFFERING MORAL SUPPORT AND ENCOURAGEMENT.” Deku is all, “[kicks Muscular’s ass effortlessly].” Muscular is all, “[gets his ass totally kicked].” I for one am very satisfied with this, and with respect to all, I would like to hereby declare this post a discourse-free zone. I’m just happy to see my son out here making good use of his FOURQUIRKS, and more importantly beating Muscular in less than seventeen pages so we can all go on with our lives lol.

damn Deku since when were you allowed to look this cool

from this perspective and with the smoke, cape, backpack, and mask more or less obscuring his actual profile, he looks less like a sixteen-year-old boy and more like a grownass man

OH SNAP

we got a glimpse of this in the cleaned-up scan of 307, but seeing both of his eyes looking so distinctively All Might-esque here is... whoa. I mean we know that his face still looks pretty normal underneath the mask and he doesn’t actually have the black sclera, but still, this is an awesome look. mini-Might

lol Muscular

you and me both. I mean no offense, but yeah

so Deku is just standing there silently

typical Deku. tight-lipped and expressionless. mum’s the word. quiet as a mouse. silent as a grave

okay no but seriously this is so weird and creepy though you guys. Deku please say something or else I’m just gonna mindlessly say whatever stupid things come into my head in an effort to make things less awkward

so Muscular is all “I should probably make a cool speech about revenge but Horikoshi couldn’t think of anything good so I’m just going to stand here clenching my fist real slowly”

“I’m not here to go on a monologue” he says, as he monologues about not monologuing

okay you guys I confess I have only read through/watched the Deku VS Muscular fight once because the arm-breaking is just way too uncomfortable for me to revisit. and so as a result, I have completely forgotten Whatever The Deal Is with Muscular’s eye lmao so let me go look it up real quick

okay so it’s a prosthetic, obviously, and he changes it out according to his mood. that part does sound familiar. I just can’t remember which eye is supposed to indicate which mood. don’t tell me I actually have to go back and reread this shit

lol I’m skimming through chapter 75 now and remembering/realizing that I hardly paid any attention to this the first time around because as soon as I found out the villains were after Kacchan my brain was like “TIME TO FOCUS ON THIS AND ONLY THIS NOW AND FOREVER” and yeah. ah memories

anyway so he started out with the flower-looking eye, and then later on he was all

which begs the question, how on earth could I have ever forgotten the most ridiculous panel I’ve ever read lmao

anyway, but so after all of that, I'm only just now realizing that this isn't one of his previous eye prosthetics in the current chapter; this is an ACTUAL FUCKING ROCK that he's just randomly shoved into his eye socket fkdsjlk

so basically (1) I did all of that painstaking research for nothing, five whole minutes of my life wasted THANKS A LOT, and (2) what, and I have never meant this more emphatically, THE FUCK

anyway so now he's leaping at the building that Deku is standing on top of. but he’s not aiming anywhere near Deku though, wtf

(ETA: HAHA YOU BROKE ALL YOUR MUSCLES YOU LOSER.)

...huh

lmao okay then. I hope those annoying citizens in the building next door are watching this go down and rethinking their life choices

dlkdkljk

just keep standing there pressed right up against the window, why don’t you. “WHAT’S GOING ON THIS SUPER CLOSE COLLAPSING BUILDING IS BLOCKING OUR VIEW.” well, folks, we’ve long since known there’s a critical shortage of hero and villain brain cells, but what we’re learning now is that civilian brain cells are also in short supply

OH THANK GOD DEKU IS FINALLY TALKING THAT WAS ACTUALLY UNSETTLING AS FUCK

SO HE’S STILL OUR GOOD, POLITE, WORRIED, CONSIDERATE DEKU UNDERNEATH THAT COOL AND MYSTERIOUS VENEER. for real, thank fuck, because I swear to god if he suddenly started acting like the Dekus in all of the vigilante AUs my interest in this series would have dropped something like 50% lol. just because he dropped out of school and ran away from home and is currently dressed like the physical manifestation of a Linkin Park playlist doesn’t mean he’s not still the WORLD’S BIGGEST DORK okay

I MEAN, THIS RIGHT HERE. THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT. HE’S APOLOGIZING FOR THE DELAY

PLEASE FIND THE ATTACHED SHINDOU YOU REQUESTED. BEST REGARDS!!!

OH MY GOD WHY IS HE SUCH A BADASS

something about making bold, confident statements while obscured in smoke?? idk but damn it fucking works

ffjkkl

more importantly, should you tell him you actually need your copy of Shindou in excel format and not pdf?? on the one hand you don’t want to sound ungrateful, but on the other hand what are you even supposed to do with this

this chapter so far consists of like 50% smoke, but on the other hand Deku VS Kacchan 2 had a lot of cinematic smoke too so who am I to complain

OMG IS IT HIS ARMS

IDK DID YOU?! TELL ME YOUR SECRETS. PLEASE, AT SOME POINT THIS FIGHT HAS GOT TO ACTUALLY ADVANCE THE PLOT

OHHHHHHH

IT’S EN’S QUIRK!! OH MY GOD OKAY THAT’S ACTUALLY AWESOME

I CAN HEAR THE SOUND OF DISCOURSE RUMBLING IN THE BACKGROUND BUT I DON’T CARE LOL. WON’T CATCH ME EVER SAYING NO TO ANOTHER SIXQUIRK. GO AHEAD, BRING THEM ON, I WANT TO SEE THEM ALL but take it easy though Deku. don’t want to give yourself lung cancer or anything

also it’s good to see that in a very real sense he’s not fighting alone. the Vestiges really did mean it when they said they could appear more easily now. this is on a whole other level

so is this whole next page still En talking, or someone else? because whoever it is sure is chatty

okay, several things

pretty sure it is En, because he keeps saying “I suppose.” for someone who never said two words until one page ago, this guy sure never shuts up. we can’t all follow Muscular’s lead I suppose. oh my god now I’m doing it too

really like the suggestion of Deku using the SIXQUIRKS like tools in an arsenal, because that’s what he’s good at! it’s almost like he’s been training for this his entire life. “you value quirks too much” LOOK HE JUST THINKS THEY’RE COOL OKAY IS THAT A CRIME

where the fuck did all this rope come from

not gonna ask what the fuck that thing is sticking out from the back of his utility belt. Horikoshi will surely explain this

is that a fucking jetpack. I’m sorry Deku were six fucking quirks not enough for you. you can fucking float??? but JUST TO BE SAFE, LET’S STRAP A PAIR OF ROCKETS TO OUR SHOULDERS IDK

-- or wait, is this all supposed to be like a visual representation of En’s metaphor?? OH MY GOD AM I JUST STUPID LOL, DON’T ANSWER THAT. NEVER MIND. NEW LIST!!

rope = blackwhip

jetpack = float

radio = danger sense

and so I’m guessing that this ridiculously phallic thing is supposed to be a flare or something?? and that = the new quirk, smokescreen. well that was a fucking ride lmao we now return you to our regularly scheduled chapter

so now Deku is floating to his heart’s content and thinking that he’ll just sneak up on Muscular and vibe check his ass or whatever

WOOOOOOOO DANGER SENSE YESSSS I LOVE THIS FOR HIM

okay guys, I'm gonna press pause here for a sec to make a serious note, because I am loving the shit out of this, but tbh I'm having trouble enjoying it as much as I want to because I keep getting anxious thinking about the discourse. I know that a lot of the fandom has very strong opinions on Deku's character development one way or the other, and I want to respect that. but I also really have no spoons to debate this topic at all beyond what I’ve already weighed in on. so if it’s all the same to everyone, I plan on staying out of this discussion, at least this week

anyway! that said, YEAH BOI GET HIS ASS

VIBE: CHECKED. CURB: STOMPED. HOTEL: TRIVAGO

-- OF COURSE HE’S STILL FUCKING FINE LOL HE CRASHES INTO BUILDINGS FOR FUN IDK WHAT I WAS EXPECTING

dammit Muscular. how many fucking quirks does it take to beat you?! the annoying thing is that even with all of his cool new powers, Deku is still something of a mismatch against him. anyway r.i.p. to all these poor buildings

OOOOOHHHHH

you guys have no idea how intrigued I am at the prospect of watching Deku try to play both good cop and bad cop here lmao

anyway so Muscular says he doesn’t know, go figure

“I’m not here to make small talk or anything” he says as he small talks about not small talking

OH MY GOD DEKU

are you really gonna talk no jutsu all of these villains from now on?? that last battle really did have a profound impact on you, huh! interesting

you guys he’s really doing it omg

Deku this guy tried to murder a five-year-old literally just for fun. I mean more power to you, but holy shit you’re really gonna try to defeat Muscular with anger management therapy huh

I MEAN

WHO COULD HAVE SEEN THAT RESPONSE COMING dlkjslkjk

FUCK’S SAKE DEKU, I KNOW YOU MEAN WELL BUT THEY CAN’T ALL HAVE TRAGIC PASTS KIDDO

but. I have to admit, I do still like that he tried. probably knew just as well as we did what the end result was going to be, but still. he made the effort in good faith and I respect that

uh oh

why do I get the feeling Muscular just got a whole lot deader

oh my god oh my god he’s doing the “powering up” stance ffff don’t fucking tell me you can still use your fucking arms here, Deku

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY WHAT’S THIS??

okay so basically he’s saying that whatever it was he sensed in Tomura, he doesn’t sense from Muscular. which, yeah, that sounds exactly right. good judge of character here lol

AHHHHAHAHA YESS

WHOOPS, GET FUCKED I GUESS

WOOOOHOOOOOOOO

lmao so apparently this is the belated result of Shindou’s attack from chapter 307?? I’ll be damned. good for you Shindou!! I always liked you buddy. please just take my word on that and don’t fact check that statement

okay lol the one tiny bit of discourse I will allow is that it’s bullshit that he just did that with his right arm. like, I’ll fully acknowledge that. that makes no fucking sense, and I demand an explanation from the Great Plot Hole Filler himself. he’s never let us down before when it comes to continuity so I’m trusting him not to suddenly start now

that said, we love to see a rematch against a boring guy settled quickly and decisively within the span of a single chapter. THANK YOU

I like that Deku implies that his power is being a smart nerd who battles villains using the power of ANALYTICS. he basically didn’t do anything except restrain Muscular and wait for Shindou’s attack to take effect while halfheartedly checking to see if he regretted any of that murder and stuff

(ETA: and almost forgot to mention, he made excellent use of all four of his active SIXQUIRKS. it’s like the chapter title said; this is basically him fighting all-out, and it’s a sight to see.)

also, as cool as the mask was, this just feels right. like, we had our fun, now let us see his face, yes good

anyway, I think this was a good start towards establishing What’s Up With Deku Right Now! so if it’s all the same to Horikoshi, I would next like to take some time to explore Why’s Up With Deku. that, and What’s Up With Everyone Else, Especially Kacchan. por favor

[whythinktoomuch]

i. apocalypse now & then

Kara touched down, her boots meeting the earth with a metallic clunk that was promptly swallowed up in the dust and utter grayness of her surroundings. The warnings came immediately—insistent beeps, bright red numbers and figures flashing before her eyes.

“How’s it looking?” asked the tinny voice in her helmet, and Kara sighed.

“Yeah, you were right. Place is infested,” she said, studying the mess of debris and desolation that seemed to feed directly into the faint horizon in every direction. “Kryptonite readings are off the charts. There’s either a tower nearby, or mines just planted all over. Maybe even both, if i’m Iucky.”

Alex let out a harsh breath. “Look, I know you’re not going to leave until you find those people, but you better watch your fucking back out there, okay?”

“Hm… don’t I always though?”

“You ask that every single time, and every single goddamn time, I have to re-mind you of all—”

“All right, all right…” Kara said, rolling her eyes. “Just stop worrying so loudly already, jeez. I’ll keep you posted the entire time.”

“Like that was ever an option.”

“Love you too,” Kara said breezily, and she began her search.

She explored the area in proportioned sections, slipping periodically into x-ray vision, keeping her feet drifting an inch off the ground at all times. You just never knew these days. By now, Kara had stepped on enough lead-wrapped kryptonite mines for one lifetime, which coincidentally had been the same number of times it took to gray almost the entirety of Alex’s head. Or so Alex claimed anyway.

Apparently, over two decades of this sort of living could do that to a person: make them older, but also, steal away every last bit of their sense of humor. 

--

Whenever Kara happened upon a particularly extensive blind spot—jagged slabs of lead piled on top of each other—she took her time. Carefully sifted her way through all that rubble, with a spare bit of rebar or her heat vision from a safe distance. Calling out to any potential survivors that could have been trapped underneath. But as she steadily neared hour two of her search, it was starting to look like a lost cause. That whoever had sent that distress signal must have since succumbed to the environment, like so many others already had done before them.

Then Kara heard it.

Whipping her head around, Kara strained her ears to their very limit, all the while silently cursing how muffled everything sounded in this godforsaken suit of hers. It took a minute or so to hone in on it, but she finally made out the distant voice.

Help us. Save us. We’re down here.

Kara snapped into action, already hurtling full-speed toward the source of the cry. “Alex, I found them.”

“About fuckin’ time,” Alex said, but the note of relief carried through the speakers loud and clear. It always did, of course, given the scarcity of such a feeling as of late. “All right, get them out of there, and hurry your ass up. You’ve already been out there for too long.”

The voice grew louder and more distinct as Kara approached it, and eventually, she could even distinguish other people in the mix—their whispers, the muted beats of their heart seemingly punctuating every word, and all the shallow breaths of air in between. She counted at least five separate individuals, five more lives that she could potentially save from this impossible landscape.

But by the time Kara reached the point where the voice was sounding from below rather than from the distance, her excitement had all but waned, receded back into the ever present anxiety hanging in the air.

“… Fuck,” she huffed out, staring at the large swathe of broken rock and dirt and twisted metal beneath her, the letter K spray-painted all over the surface in a faded green. “Alex. They’re in a mine-rigged shelter.”

“Forget it then. Just get out of there,” Alex said, all rather predictably. “We can send an extraction team with defusers in the morning.”

“But that’ll take too long,” Kara protested. “It would take days, just for a task force to cover all that distance, and these people need help now.”

“No. I want you to put down a marker and come right the fuck back home,” Alex said. “That’s your last kryptonite filtration suit! If anything happens, if you sustain even the slightest bit of damage out there, you could—”

Kara cut the feed and swiftly locked her comms from all available channels, employing one of the few tips Winn had passed onto her before he died. Because Alex didn’t understand. How could she, when she wasn’t the one who had to listen to these desperate cries for help from people just barely out of reach.

She floated outside the presumed blast radius, planted her feet firmly to the ground, and went to work. Uncovering the buried shelter bit by bit, one sizable mass of charred rubble dug up after the other. It wasn’t easy. The kryptonite in the area, though not exposed, was much too close for comfort even through her suit. And it made the sun hotter, everything heavier, and Kara’s progress as slow as it could possibly be.

But all that—the sweat gathering on her brow, the soreness burning up her lower back—was a very small price to pay when weighed against the lives of at least five people in need. So, Kara kept going. She kept burrowing deeper into the earth with her bare hands, until the sun was but a small twinkle above her head and her fingertips were brushing against a patch of warmed metal.

And she could hear them better now. They were so close.

Kara pressed her palm against what had to be the outer wall of their shelter. “Hey, can you hear me in there?”

“Please help us!” came the frantic response, only somewhat muffled now. “Please get us out! We can’t breathe in here!”

“Okay! Okay… I’m gonna get you out, okay?” Kara shouted back, heart thumping hard in her ears. “Just… hang on.”

A quick once-over was all it took to determine that the wall before her—like most other surfaces nowadays—was naught but a few inches of commercial steel, coated in a thin layer of lead. And as such, all it would to take, of course, to break into such a structure was—THUNK!—a single punch from the Girl of Steel herself.

Kara ripped a hole in the wall, using her heat vision to melt down the edges as she tugged the entire thing apart. Eventually satisfied with her efforts, she was just about to crawl through her rather crude but functional doorway when the speakers in her helmet abruptly flipped back on.

“—him back to life, and just… throttle him for showing you that trick!” Alex was practically hollering in her ear. “Why would you ever need to do that anyway? The whole frickin’ point of the—”

“Whoa, Alex, Alex, it’s fine! I’m fine! Just shh!” Kara hastily cut her off. “I’ve pretty much got my foot in the door already, okay? So, I’m helping these people whether you like it or not.”

“Yeah, you fucking better,” Alex said with a scoff. “I want to look these people in the eye while you explain to me what was so goddamn special about them that you had to…”  

And Kara barked out a laugh, shaking her head in wonder as Alex continued to chew her out in a way that only sisters could, apparently. “Hey, you can do whatever you want, okay? Just let me bring them home first.”

“Fine. Just don’t kill the comms this time.”

“Oh, I would never.”

“Kara, I fucking swear to—”

But the rest of all that swearing quickly faded into the backdrop, as Kara finally poked her head into what should have been just another underground refuge from everything their world now had to offer. Because ten feet below from where she had burrowed her way in, was not a handful of dehydrated people waiting to be rescued—only masses upon masses of thick coils and plates of smooth black metal shifting about.

That’s when Kara realized that it’d been quite some time since she’d heard a cry for help. And soon after that was when a muted click! sounded, then somewhere down there in the midst of all that darkness and mechanical movement, came another loop of voices calling out to her.

“Oh shit…” Kara whispered, and at least ten sets of glassy eyes flicked up to stare at her. The pre-recorded voices immediately cut out, and the entire room lit up in a vibrant green as the machines all powered up with a collective hum. “Shit, shit, shit, you were right!”

“Right about what?” Alex demanded, but Kara was too busy heeding her long overdue advice of getting the fuck out there to respond.

Kara burst from the ground in a flurry of dust and clattering scrap metal, already heading for the horizon at full-speed. She needed to put as much distance as possible between her and the decoy shelter. It was nothing short of an honest-to-Rao miracle that her sudden escape hadn’t tripped any of the mines on-site, but now, it was only a matter of time.

Still hurtling away, Kara threw a glance over her shoulder just in time to see the first three drones break through the surface, already mindlessly chasing after her. Then the third and the fourth crashed right on through after them, which abruptly led to a series of rapid beeping, which abruptly led to a violent disturbance in the air that stole away all the sound from the world and knocked Kara right out of the sky.

(next part here)

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 8)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5) (chapter 6) (chapter 7)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut... a minor injury... a motorcycle... a teeny tiny bit of angst?? honestly it's just pretty normal aside from the smut

You actually fell asleep without anything too untoward happening, just kissing and cuddling and whispers that didn't make much sense to each other but still made your heart flutter each time.

Waking up, though, was another story entirely.

"Arăți frumos în timp ce dormi," he mumbled into the crook of your neck, pulling your hips back so you could feel his hard cock against your ass. You hummed and snuggled up closer to him, bathing in his warmth as much as possible.

“I swear I’ve never slept so well in my life,” you mumbled as you reached back to run your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I need you in my bed all the time so I can finally get some rest.”

He smiled against your skin, sucking on that spot just behind your ear that made your eyes roll back in your head. “Il vrei?” he asked huskily, and you didn’t even care what he was asking; when he said it like that, the answer was always ‘yes.’ You nodded happily, biting your lip, as he started to push your panties down and helped you arch your back so he could guide his cock to your entrance.

You still gasped and clutched at the sheets beneath you, you couldn’t help it even if it wasn’t your first time discovering how thick he was. It was just barely painful for one fleeting moment before it faded into that delightful fullness, his strokes long and slow as he sighed against your ear. “Seba,” you whimpered under your breath.

“Sunt mai bun decât el, nu-i așa? Nu te-a futut niciodată atât de bine,” he growled a little, holding you tighter. “Sper că știe. Sper că știe că am făcut dragoste cu tine și că sunt îndrăgostit de tine.”

You couldn’t be sure if it was his words in your ear or his arms so tight around your chest that made it a little hard to breathe, but something was so different about the way he was speaking now than you’d ever heard him before. It was difficult to describe— not quite angry, but so passionate it could almost seem that way. You could feel it in the way he moved inside you, too; he was clearly holding back, like there was a storm beneath his calm surface.

You wanted all of it. Turning back, you kissed him and pulled his hair a little, hoping it would get the point across. It seemed to, considering how he gasped and sped up, fucking you harder and deeper as you moaned a little louder than you meant to.

“Când a fost aici, am vrut să te sărut,” he continued in a low voice, speaking right against your parted lips. “Am vrut ca soțul tău să vadă. Am vrut să te arunc în patul ăsta și să te fac să țipi, pentru ca toată lumea să te audă. Am vrut să știe că sunt eu.”

“Yours,” you said before you could stop yourself, and thankfully you didn’t have to worry too much about the implications of it because he couldn’t understand what you meant. He grabbed your face anyways, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he stared into your eyes.

“A mea,” he purred, fucking you faster until you started to whine and arch your back harder.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna—” you stammered, but he nodded before you could finish, encouraging you with whispered words and a hand slipping down between your legs to rub your swollen clit. You cried out, instinctively reaching out to grab his arm, but he held fast and kept up the pace, sending you tumbling over the edge before you had really prepared yourself for it. Unintentionally, you held your breath for a few moments as it washed over you, the tension releasing finally with a long sigh.

The very moment you began the denouement from your peak, he pulled out and rolled you onto your back, slipping right back in as he slotted his body between your legs. You whimpered and gripped his shoulders, and he got right back to his pace— but this time your body couldn’t take as much of the force and so it began to rock the bed, his headboard slamming into the wall. At first neither of you cared until he glanced up and hissed, “rahat.”

“What?” you asked, sitting up and craning your head around to see he’d clearly damaged the wallpaper there. “Oops,” you giggled, “guess we should take a break and fix that—”

He pushed you back down onto the bed as you yelped, capturing you in a hungry kiss; one arm slipped under your shoulders, holding you tight, while the other reached up so his hand could grip the headboard and hold it still as he started to pound into you again. You moaned weakly and relaxed in his embrace, feeling the bed still rock slightly under you but much more interested in the feeling of his cock slamming right into the most sensitive and overstimulated spots inside your channel.

“Oh god,” you sighed as you couldn’t stop your head from falling back into the pillow, closing your eyes to dodge the way he stared down at you with an intensity that bordered on fury. He moved in to bite at your neck instead, and if you were any more in touch with reality you would’ve complained that you didn’t bring many clothes that would cover his bite marks, but you were much too lost in the sensation he was bringing you for that.

“Atât de bine, atât de bine,” he chanted with a growl, “voi veni… atât de aproape…”

“Yes,” you whimpered, “please, Seba— yes, right there, oh fuck!”

You came again, technically, but it was nothing like the first time— more shallow but less brief, like the pleasure was spread thinner and wider, until you worried your vision would go completely black. He grunted loudly as he filled you, still thrusting roughly with each pump of his release into you, but finally he slowed and sighed, his breaths coming hard and fast as he let go of the headboard and held you tightly.

He seemed exhausted, honestly, and you laughed breathlessly as he collapsed on top of you. “You can’t be so worn out this early in the morning,” you scolded as you kissed his shoulder.

“Nu voi mai părăsi niciodată acest pat,” he groaned.

“At least let me up so I can shower!” you protested, trying to push his limp weight off of you and failing pitifully as you laughed.

“Nu, nici tu nu vei părăsi niciodată acest pat,” he cooed, covering your face in kisses as you laughed harder. Only when you defensively pinched his arm did he pull back and pull out, letting you slip out from under him.

“I’ll be back soon,” you promised as kissed him on the cheek, dashing to the bathroom and getting one last glance at him shaking out his sore hand before you shut the door.

Chapter 38 done… only five more to go, if your outline was to be trusted (which it most certainly should not). Still, you were finally reaching the real height of the tension, the climax of the story likely to hit as soon as the next chapter.

But it wasn’t what you were expecting. It wasn’t what you thought you would write when you sat down here months ago and began with page 1. In fact, it was better.

You sighed a little, looking away from the typewriter for the first time in maybe an hour or more, glancing out the window where the sun was starting to set and painting the whole countryside in an orange glow; but it wasn’t the only thing making the leaves change colors— fall was undeniably on the way, enough so that poor Sebastian was raking leaves already. And, because evil is a real and powerful force in this world, he had started wearing a shirt while working outside.

Not that it wasn’t still buckets of fun to watch him go: you found yourself leaning against the window frame to drink in the sight of him, smiling widely to yourself as he sighed and wiped his brow.

All of a sudden, he turned and caught you ogling, making him grin and you laugh with embarrassment. He waved at you, and you waved back, resigning to getting back to work for just a few more pages…

The creaking of the stairs made you realize someone was coming, but with Sebastian just outside it could only be Mrs. Alberti. With a sinking feeling in your gut, you ran to the closet to rifle through your sweaters, hoping to find something with a high neck. Nothing looked long enough, making you groan in frustration.

She knocked on the door and you jumped slightly. “One moment!” you called out to her, digging up a random scarf and throwing it around your neck to hastily cover the bruises Sebastian had left on you. “Yes, come in,” you finally sighed with relief as you threw yourself back into the chair.

“Good evening,” Mrs. Alberti smiled sweetly as she peeked through the crack in the door, “I just wanted to offer to cook dinner here tonight. I’m making a big recipe so I figured I might as well, unless you had your own plans.”

“No, that would be lovely,” you nodded, “thank you.”

“Just come downstairs in about, oh, fifteen minutes and it’ll be ready,” she explained.

“You don’t want any help in the kitchen?”

She scoffed a little. “From you?”

You chuckled at her brutal honesty. “Okay, point taken.”

“Sorry, dear, it’s just that I wouldn’t want your… Western sensibilities to muck up the recipe,” she defended.

“I can’t blame you,” you smirked. “I’ll be down in a quarter hour.”

She nodded and shut the door again, leaving you to unwrap the itchy scarf from your neck and let out a slow breath.

Of course, with an imminent deadline you couldn’t actually get any good work done, so you just read back over some older chapters and made a couple simple edits. All too soon, you checked the clock and realized you should go ahead and make your way to the kitchen.

You took a deep breath as you stepped into the entryway where the smell of Mrs. Alberti’s cooking emanated through the rest of the house. It brought back memories of when you were here with Michael and she cooked for the both of you. Those memories were wonderful once, then soured, but now you were coming to appreciate them again. Although, it was easier to enjoy them when you imagined the black eye your soon-to-be-ex was likely sporting now.

You took a seat at the table and let her serve you, even though it made you feel a little guilty; you knew she would never let you serve yourself when she was cooking.

“How’s your novel coming along, dear?” she asked as she took her own seat and you began eating.

“Well,” you began with a little sigh, “stories have a mind of their own, Mrs. Alberti. All this time I thought I was writing a thriller— something scary, gritty, maybe even tragic. But I’m coming up on the end of it and I’m realizing that all this time, I’ve been writing a romance.”

She smiled, glancing behind you to the doorway. “Yes, things have a funny way of turning out differently than we expect.”

Wondering what she was looking at, you turned to find Sebastian leaning against the wood frame, wiping his hands on a towel. “Bună seara,” he greeted.

“Sit down, Sebastian, have some dinner,” she offered to him as she stood up to pour him a new portion of soup.

He nodded and sat at the table, “multumesc,” he mumbled when she put a bowl in front of him.

You fell into a comfortable silence after that, everyone eating their meals quietly. It was nice to have a moment of normalcy— your new normal— after such an eventful day previous.

“So,” Mrs. Alberti broke the silence unexpectedly, “you two had sex?”

You instantly spat out your sip of soup, making Sebastian give you a concerned look; you waved dismissively as if to say you were fine, though you coughed a couple times. “I… uhm— how did you—?”

“He was whistling while he gardened today,” she explained, “and you look the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”

“To be fair, I think the first thing is because he punched my husband yesterday morning,” you added with a little laugh.

“And the second thing?”

“...at least partially because he punched my husband yesterday morning,” you admitted.

“Fair enough,” she chuckled, “but don’t think I don’t see the way your shoulders aren’t so tense and you’re smiling all the time. I know a woman in love when I see one.”

“L-love?” you questioned instantly, choking on the word.

“Oh, honey,” she sighed, almost a look of pity on her face, “did you not know? It’s all over your face.”

You took a slow breath and pondered your meal before taking another bite. “No… I knew,” you admitted, “I guess you just put it really bluntly.”

She smiled. “It’s how we do things in Hungary. You should be honest with him.”

“With what words?”

“Sounds like you don’t need them,” she smirked. “I’ll leave you two be, then. You’ll have to tell me how it goes.”

She bid Sebastian goodnight with a little wave, and he nodded back happily; with the back door shut as she headed to her own house, you two were alone again. He took a sip of his soup and you finally noticed the marks on his spoon-holding hand.

“Your hand…” you realized, pointing to it, remembering with burning cheeks how he got that injury.

“Ah,” he smiled, looking down at the purple knuckles and smiling as he rubbed them gently. “Un sacrificiu demn.”

After dinner, you picked up with some reading (so much more relaxing than writing, believe it or not) and Sebastian joined you for the same on the couch.

Just laying together like this— quiet, relaxed, and totally at peace— was igniting feelings inside you that you had gone without for so long that you’d forgotten they existed completely. Resting your head on his chest, between the unbuttoned halves of his shirt, you could hear his heartbeat and it was soothing yet invigorating somehow.

He held his book up over your head while you used one hand to hold yours open and read through the space between his chest and his arm. It wasn’t the most ergonomic position necessarily, and your arm was definitely getting tired, but it was worth it to be close to him in these little ways.

"Book?" he asked innocently after a long stint of silent reading, setting his own aside to look down at you.

You closed your book and looked back up at him, resting your chin on his chest. "The book I'm reading? It's good," you nodded (as much as you could without stabbing him in the sternum with your chin, that is).

"Nu, book ta," he clarified, poking your forehead, before making a motion like he was typing.

"My book!" you realized. "Yes, the book I'm writing, it's nearly done…"

Your heart started to sink inside your chest.

"And when it's done, I'll go back to London. Like I planned from the beginning. And it'll be published and I'll start from scratch at a new life… alone.”

You cleared your throat and looked away. “Ești în regulă?” he asked quietly, sounding concerned.

You shook yourself out of it, smiling back up at him. “Let’s go into the city tomorrow,” you decided. “I need some things, if I’m going to be staying longer…”

He seemed to appreciate that you were telling him something, but couldn’t determine what. “Nyíregyháza,” you explained, “let’s drive into the city.” You pantomimed a steering wheel to explain yourself better.

“Ah,” he nodded, “nu într-o mașină. Îmi luăm bicicleta.” He returned with the motion of steering a bike— and when he curled his fingers to rev the proverbial engine, you realized he meant a motorbike. “Motocicletă,” he smiled.

“You drive a motorcycle?” you realized with a little gasp.

“Da,” he grinned, a little more mischievous than before.

“Oh, you really are gonna be the death of me,” you laughed. “Let’s go see this bike of yours.”

He helped you up off the couch and escorted you to the shed across from the house, the last light of sunset just barely enough to illuminate the way. You knew he worked in here sometimes, but you never realized he was doing mechanic work— indeed there it was: a motorcycle, right by Mrs. Alberti’s car, clearly quite old but restored to decent condition. “Iată-o, fetița mea,” he announced as he raised his arms to present it to you.

“Wow, you’ve been working hard,” you realized as you looked around at all the parts and tools strewn about.

“Avea nevoie de un alternator nou și ceva de lucru în interiorul motorului, dar acum funcționează la fel de bine ca nou... dacă nu chiar mai bine,” he enumerated as he knelt down in front of it, grabbing a towel to rub a spot of dirt from the headlight. “Vrei să conduci acum?”

You tilted your head.

“Acum,” he repeated, standing up and pulling you closer, tilting his head back toward the bike. “Sa mergem acum.”

“You want to go for a drive now? It’s pretty late, I was about to go to bed,” you protested meekly.

“Haide,” he smiled, stepping back and pulling you with him. “Plimbare pe spate.”

He handed you a helmet that had been resting on one of the handlebars, and you dutifully put it on as he got on the bike and fiddled around with it for a moment, kicking out the kickstand and finding his balance before getting it to start with a roar that echoed around the shed. He beamed proudly, looking up at you. “Eh?” he prompted with a nod.

“Yeah, it sounds great,” you encouraged with a thumbs up.

“Ce mai face casca?” he asked, leaning forward to knock his fist on your helmet lightly, making you laugh.

“Yeah, it’s good,” you nodded.

“Atunci alătură-te mie,” he instructed as he patted the seat behind him. You took a quick breath and got on, wrapping your arms around him. “Mai strâns,” he mumbled, pulling your arms in to hold him tighter. You smiled and rested your head on his back, yelping slightly when the bike lurched forward and he steered you out of the shed and into the grass outside. He was very slow at first until he steered to the gravel road, at which point he instantly picked up speed until the wind whipped at your face. His unbuttoned shirt was flying in every direction, leaving him totally unprotected from the night air, but he didn’t seem to mind, holding fast as he took you down the road, hugging the turns letting the headlight illuminate only as much as he needed to see.

When you looked up, you could see the stars more clearly than ever. You sighed and hugged him tighter, amazed at how they didn’t move at all while the world on the ground flew by. It made sense, obviously, with them being millions of miles away, but it was jarring how different the speed of the world could look from different perspectives. And as exhilarating as it was to see the countryside roll by in a blur, you preferred the steady night sky; you didn’t want to think about this moment flying by, about the fleeting nature of all of this. You wanted to believe this would always be here, just like the stars. You wanted to focus on the things that would never leave you, the moments that would become lifelong memories, and not on the reality of how beautiful things are not usually permanent things.

“I love you,” you whispered against his ear, quiet enough for your words to be blown away into the night. A small tear left a hot trail on your chilled skin, blown back over your temple instantly by Sebastian’s acceleration.

In silence, you drove into the unknown with him, letting yourself forget about the rest of the world for just a little while longer. You deserved that.

[smoochkooks]

—golden boy (m.)

⟶ pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

⟶ genre: smut, fluff, disney hercules au, meg!oc, hercules!jk

⟶ summary: jungkook finally has you all to himself. and oh, is he going to cherish the moment wholeheartedly.

⟶  word count: 2.7k

⟶ warnings: virgin!jk, switch!jk if you squint, exhibitionism (they do it outdoors but it’s ancient greece so it’s not even surprising), soft to kinda rough sex, heavy petting, oral (f receiving), slight dirty talk, hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie, jk in a man bun, pegasus cockblocking his partner in crime

a/n: i got cherry vodka drunk and wrote this in two hours. it’s jorny hours so please forgive me for the sins you’re about to read with your very own eyes. hercules is one of my favorite childhood disney movies and watching it today i just couldn’t stop imagining jk as the greek god. if you see any mistakes - please ignore them. it’s almost 2am. enjoy!! xx ps. I had some major difficulties with posting this one so if you were one of the first people to read it and sth was off: read it again now thank u

Jungkook thinks you're the most beautiful person in the whole world. 

He hasn't seen many goddesses in his life (hell, he's sure of it, judging by the short period of time he spent on Olympus as a newborn baby-god) but he's positive you would make his aunt Aphrodite jealous. You’re the epitome of his perfection, a walking daydream, his muse and an object of desire.

He could die happily staring at you, though it's impossible due to the fact he's very much immortal. He could travel back to Hades and fight every titan that rots in the pits of Tartarus, just to see you batting your long eyelashes at him or hear you call him ‘golden boy’ again. You quite literally have him wrapped around your finger, not even his father Zeus, the most powerful god in the entire universe managed to convince him to stay on Olympus and bask in the glory with the rest of his family.  

Jungkook chose to live his life with you, on Earth, and there's not a single smudge of doubt or regret clouding his brain. Not when he can finally hold you in his arms and kiss stupidi just like right now when it’s dark out and you’re sitting comfortably on the ground near a small pond.  

“You saved me once again, golden boy,” you murmur, fingers lazily threading through the dark locks on his neck. It almost makes him purr into your mouth.

“You weren't really in trouble the first time.” He bites your lip in return, eliciting a giggle from you.

“But am I not your favorite damsel in distress, Jungkookie?” You place your palm on his rock-hard chest and push, until he's laying flat on the grass, the starry sky above reflecting in his black orbs. “You're my hero, you know that, right?” you whisper, straddling his lap.  

Jungkook's been to Olympus and knows what heaven looks like but this: you above him, your hair cascading down your shoulders, dress bunching up around your waist and revealing smooth expanses of honey skin– is incomparable. It's sweet ambrosia on his tongue, the finest of all tastes, the greatest feeling in the world.  

“Am I?” he asks just to hear you say it once again. Instead of responding verbally you lean down to kiss him, your lips molding perfectly together. He groans into your mouth, two calloused palms itching to touch the bare skin of your thighs. Growing bolder, his hands reach further, cupping your asscheeks and pulling you even closer to him. 

You smirk into his mouth. “Someone's eager,” you tease but give in anyway, brushing your core over the hard length beneath his tunic.  

Jungkook all but moans at that and you relish in the sounds he makes, repeating the movement and slowly grinding yourself on his cock. His face twitches in pure ecstasy and you swear you've never seen anything more beautiful in your entire life– the son of Zeus being at your mercy, helpless to the pleasure you're giving him. “You're going to be the death of me,” he sighs, angling your head to kiss you again. You don't hesitate to oblige, accepting the tongue he slithers inside with a whimper of your own. 

“Thank gods you're immortal.” you say in between kisses.

He chuckles lowly, sending shivers down your spine. He bunches the material of your dress in his hands and lifts it off you in one, swift movement. Your nipples harden feeling the soft breeze fanning over your flesh. Looking down, you're met with Jungkook's blown out pupils. He looks so dreamy like this, the most perfect golden boy you’ve ever seen. His lips are swollen from your kisses, hair a little tussled and falling from his bun. A sight for sore eyes, truly.  

“You're so beautiful, love,” he murmurs, his palms engulfing your breasts. You moan when he sucks one of the nipples into his hot mouth, fingers threading through his hair and ready to pull. “My goddess,” he chants, switching to the other breast. He flicks the pebbled bud with his tongue and then bites lightly, making you cry out in pleasure. “I love the sounds you make. Want to hear you moaning for me. Give me more, love, please.”

He places his hands underneath your thighs and lifts you off him, laying you on your back. You don't complain about the change, not when he trails kisses down your chest and stomach, not when you feel his hot breath on your womanhood. He's determined to please you, it seems, so he mouths over your undergarments, alternating between kissing and licking you softly through the material.  

“Take them off,” you mutter, growing impatient. Jungkook looks up, a devilish smirk on his lips. Oh, how many sleepless nights you spent dreaming of him staring at you like that and practically devouring you with his eyes.  

“Won't you beg for me a little, love?” He's too cocky for his own good but you decide to let it slide for now, your urges getting better of you.  

“Please, Jungkookie, make me feel good.” you keen in saccharine sweet voice. He doesn't need to be told twice, ripping the undergarments off your body. “Oh, yes!” you moan when he gives you first, experimental lick up your slick folds. He swirls his tongue over your clit, making you choke out a, “Right there, darling, right there.”  

Jungkook's certain his newfound favourite place in the world is going to be between your thighs. He's already addicted to your taste, to your smell. He lavishes your cunt with passion, devouring you like the finest meal. He loves the sounds you make, love the little whimpers and breathy moans. He wants to listen to them forever. 

He groans into your heat when you pull his hair, pulling away from your pussy with a wet pop. “Do it again,” he rasps against your core and that's probably the hottest thing you've ever heard. You grant his wish, repeating it every time he delivers a toe-curling suck to your sensitive bud. “You're dripping, my love. Is this all for me?” Jungkook asks, lifting his head up enough so you could see his lips and chin glistening in your arousal. He’s getting bolder again but you’re too consumed with your own pleasure to pay mind to it.

“All for you,” you murmur, the pads of your fingers trailing through his locks lightly. He closes his eyes, lets you massage his scalp for a brief moment. “You're doing so good, darling. You're going to make me come.” 

He takes it as a sign to continue, diving right into your cunt. He shows no mercy, bringing you to the edge of release. You wonder how could he possibly be so good at this already but then you remember who exactly your lover is– a son of Zeus can only be either a fast learner or natural.  

With one, final flick of his tongue on your clit the coil in your stomach tightens and you're coming, more slick gushing out of your and coating Jungkook's face in translucent release. He doesn't seem to be bothered though, licking his lips and chin obscenesly and moaning at the taste. Your hole clenches, needing to be filled.

Jungkook discards his tunic and now you have a perfect view of his sturdy muscles, the byproduct of his training with Phil. You almost drool at the sight, running your palms greedily over the wide expanses of his chest. When your finger ever-so-slightly brushes his nipple, you feel him chocking out a tiny moan. Smirking, you repeat the motion.  

“Y/N, love, please don't tease me. I need to be inside you so bad.” he husks when your other hand travels down his abdomen and trails over his aching cock. 

“As you wish, darling.” With shaky limbs you manage to turn him on his backside again. Right when you're about to pulls his undergarments down, you hear something rustling between the trees. You stop abruptly. 

“Did you hear that?” you whisper, squinting your eyes to see better although there's no use for that during the night.  

Jungkook furrows his brows. “Hear what?” he mumbles and props himself on his elbows to look, but then you see it yourself. A glimpse of white fur that can only belong to– 

“That stupid horse!” you shriek, covering your bare breats with your hands.

“What?!” Jungkook yells, equally as shocked as you. He scrambles for his tunic to cover your modest figure. “Pegasus! Get out of here!” The magical creature neighs in response and peeks from between the bushes, looking at you pitifully. 

“Oh gods, he saw me naked!” you wail, mortified, as Jungkook gets up to scold Pegasus. “I'm gonna die from embarrassment!”  

Jungkook angrily gestures to the horse to leave you two alone, standing only in his undergarments. You want to laugh at how absurd this whole situation is. Pegasus nods with his head bowed down. Fulfilling the order, he spreads his wings and flies away somewhere. You hope far, far away from here.

“Hey,” You hear Jungkook's soft voice. He takes your hands in his and uncovers your red face. “We're alone.” he says, smiling apologetically at you.  

“I can't believe your stupid, magical horse almost watched us fuck."

“Keyword: almost.”

You cry out, burying your face in his neck.  “It's not funny!” you huff, punching him in the chest however you know he probably hasn't even felt it. But you did feel pretty much though; it hurts like you've hit a stone.  

Jungkook chuckles, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “Do you want to continue?” he asks, rubbing your back soothingly.  

You look up to meet his eyes. “Do you?” you repeat with raised eyebrows.  

There it goes again, the damned sly smirk. “I'm still very much hard, love, and I'm afraid it won't go away that easily.”

“Yeah?” you murmur, thoughts about Pegasus and his prying horse eyes showed to the back of your head. “And what are you gonna do about it?” You push him onto his back, fingers grasping the material of his undergarments.  

Jungkook swallows before saying, “I'm gonna fuck you so hard you will never even think of leaving me.”

Biting your lip, you slide his undergarments down his toned legs. His cock is just as perfect as the rest of him–long, curved at the top and flaming red, craving to be touched. Using the precum that has gattered at the tip you smear it along his shaft, watching in awe as his face confronts in pleasure. He lets you play with him for a while like that, drive him to the insanity with your teasing.  

Just when you're about to position yourself over his cock, he stops you. “Have you ever done this before?” he asks, although he already knows the answer.  

“I did. Once,” you answer honestly. “But it didn't mean anything to me.” You slowly sink down on him, welcoming the slightly burning stretch with a satisfied moan.  

Jungkook hisses, digs his fingers into your waist and you're sure he'll leave bruising marks. “And what does this mean?” he asks, almost chokes out feeling your hot canal enveloping his length.  

“Everything,” you breathe out, lifting yourself off him just to slam down hard afterwards. “You mean the world to me.” you say; it’s priactially a whisper. As you're staring into his wide eyes, you can see your love for him reflected in them. It all feels like a dream you don't wanna wake up from.  

“I love you, Y/N,” he confesses and you know he means it. “From the moment I saw you for the first time I knew you would be the one for me.”  

A lonely tear slides down your cheeks and he catches it with his thumb. “I love you too, Jungkook.” you murmur.  

He smiles like a fool, opens his mouth to say more but you shut him up with a kiss and your hips establishing a steady rhythm on his cock. You pull away from his lips, saliva dribbling down both of your chins but you don't care, bouncing on him like your life depends on it. Maybe it does a little.  

“So good,” you whimper, the tip of his cock almost hitting your cervix with every stroke.  

Underneath you Jungkook looks like he might die right here and there, his chest sweaty and heaving with every breath he takes. He has a vice grip on your waist, guiding you up and down his cock. To your surprise you find yourself liking that side of him, the rough touch of his hands on your skin. You wonder what he's capable of if you push him a little further.  

“Oh, gods!” you keen when his cock brushes past the spot that makes you see stars. He fucks into you just in time for you to add, “Just like that.”  

As much as Jungkook enjoys seeing you bouncing on top of him, he grows tired of just laying still and taking it. In one, swift motion, he flips you onto your back. You squel after the sudden change of positions but that quickly morphs into a loud moan as he rams his cock inside your cunt.

He picks up the pace, making you feel every inch of him. He stares down where your body ends and his begins, watching his cock disappearing in your hole. You urge him to look at you instead, pull him down to leave a messy kiss on his lips. “Shit, you're so perfect,” he marvels, palms squeezing every part of your body he could reach. “Look at you, taking my cock like a good girl,” he spits, leaning to suck a mark on your neck. “Tell me how much you like it.”

“I love it. Love your cock,” you say over the slapping sounds of your skin meeting his. “You're so good to me Jungkookie, so good.” As you feel another, powerful orgasm approaching, you slip your fingers down your body to toy with your clit.  

Jungkook catches it and snatches your hand away, replacing with his own. He rubs your sensitive bud fast and hard, making you cry out his name in a broken moan. “Are you gonna come for me, love? I want you to cream my cock like a good girl.” he rasps, slithering himself inside you with enough force to knock the breath out of your lungs. 

“Yes, yes!” you chant, feeling your cunt spasming around his length. He curses, fucking you through your high. “Kiss me, Jungkookie–please,” you nearly sob and he obliges right away, plunging his tongue inside your mouth to dance with yours. It's messy and wet but you're relishing in it.  

He pants against your mouth, his pace getting sloppy. “I'm not gonna last longer,” he stammers out. “Your pussy feels too good, I'm–”

“Shh,” you whisper, cupping his cheeks in your palms. “It's okay. You did so good, darling.” He moans at the praise, leans down to bury his face in your neck. 

“Oh gods, I'm gonna–ah, shit,” he groans, thrusts into your cunt a few more times and then he comes, spilling himself inside. “I love you, I love you.” he repeats, breathing heavily down your neck.

You wrap your arms around him, smiling to yourself. “And I love you.” you respond. “But please, for the love of Zeus, get off me or you'll suffocate me.”

Jungkook chuckles, lifting himself off your body. He props himself on his hand and stares down at you. You’ve never felt so happy. It’s right here, with him, that you feel the most acomplished. You wish to make it last forever. He places a kiss on your mouth, a sweet, quick peck before he crashes his body next to yours.

He pulls you to his side and you could feel his heart beating underneath the palm you placed on his chest. It beats with the love he has for you. 

“When do you think you will be able to go again?” you ask.

Jungkook cocks his head. “What? Are you proposing a round two?”

“Not exactly,” you quip, your nail ever so slightly brushing over his nipple. “Want you in my mouth this time.”

“You little minx.”

You smirk. If his already semi-hard cock is anything to go by, you have a long night ahead of yourself.

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

You mentioned in a post that you don’t believe it was Tom’s intention to run his torture-factory/dystopian academy. Why do you think it ended up that way? Did he simply lose the capacity to care about the children at that point?

Oh god.

Why do you people ask me things that require Tolstoy novel length explanations about Tom Riddle that will still make me sound crazy by the end of it? 

Let’s get to it, I suppose.

My usual Tom Riddle analysis disclaimers: we have a lot of ground to cover and little time cover it in so I’m not going to expand on every single line I drop, I will undoubtedly offend somebody if I haven’t already and if you think that might be you then you should probably move along, we’re going to have to make a lot of assumptions.

Required reading material (yes, you have asked an ask that has goddamn required reading material):

Tom Riddle’s Goal Was to Destroy the Wizarding World

Tom Riddle’s Not Crazy

Tom Riddle is Depressed and Suicidal

Voldemort is an Idea, Not a Man

You read it? For realz? For really realz? Okay, then let’s move forward.

I think it’s a bit of both.

I think by the time we get to Tom Riddle in canon, let alone Deathly Hallows, he is buried in rage, depression, and nihilism. He cares about very little anymore, is probably in constant physical pain, life is a black pit of despair, and it’s only fitting that somewhere out there the children are suffering too.

Now that said, I do think he never intended for Hogwarts to become the way it did and did put in fairly reasonable efforts so that it would not. It did anyway. Why do I think that?

He left most of the staff, key staff members at that and known resistance members, untouched and in their posts

He put Severus Snape, of all Death Eaters, in charge of the school

He turned a blind eye to the active student rebellion of nearly half the school’s population

He did not remove the children of known resistance members from the castle and make them hostages

The battle of Hogwarts

The Staff

It’s very telling to me that there is little to no turnover of the staff. Yes, we get the Carrows for Defense Against the Dark Arts and Malfoy gets to be a hall monitor on steroids, but all the original faculty remains and most retain their full original positions.

Minerva McGonagall, who is a known Order member, is allowed to retain her position as Transfiguration professor even when she actively aids and engages in the student led rebellion at the school. Hell, she actively spies on Hogwarts’ inner workings and reports back to the Order, and Tom lets her get away with this.

Despite Tom’s destroying the sorting hat, which I actually fully agree with as I think that thing actively causes major rifts in wizarding society, he actually doesn’t want to rock the boat and in this wants education to continue in much the same manner as before he took power.

He Leaves Snape in Charge

Snape is by far the most level headed Death Eater and actually has experience as a professor, seems to handle children well enough, and has existing relationships with the Hogwarts faculty. If anyone was supposed to get Hogwarts working under the new regime and keep everything in check, then it’s this guy.

I imagine Tom thought Snape could easily handle this. Snape can’t handle this.

Unfortunately, Tom trusted Snape to be competent. Snape chose not to be competent, or rather, I’m sure he had no idea what the fuck Tom wanted from him. I think, for all Snape managed to evade detection, he really has no idea how Tom Riddle works, mostly because all he sees of the man is the ridiculous show that is Voldemort. Based on that, Tom Riddle expects the castle to be in ruins by the year’s end, and Snape delivers the best appearance of this he can while actively turning a blind eye to student rebellion.

In other words, Snape went with his best guess of chaos and despair, which was a good guess.

So Snape sits there as Headmaster, the faculty refuses to interact with him, the hired on Death Eater faculty don’t listen to him and he can’t quite tell them off for torturing the children, because he’s pretty sure that’s what Tom wants and the whole thing spirals out of control until the children are actually arming themselves and Tom Riddle has to actually invade Hogwarts.

He has to invade a school, cutting down children, because Snape could not do his job. 

Tom Turned a Blind Eye to Student Rebellion

Remember Dumbledore’s Army and how quickly they were found out? These kids are not being at all secretive. They’re having meetings that both Snape and McGonagall are aware of (both doing their best to hide it), we know that eventually Draco the Hall Monitor finds out about it, and it’s clear that there are key active instigators in Hogwarts.

They then actually barricade themselves in a room and refuse to leave, arming themselves for “the rebellion”.

Tom does nothing.

Oh, sure, the people inside the castle do things but Tom never instructs them to stake out Hogsmeade (where they must be getting supplies), to start pulling out the big guns and threatening their specific families, or anything more.

I think this shows Tom was willing to let a lot go, he just couldn’t let go actual open rebellion or the reemergence of Harry Potter the messiah figure rallying the troops.

Where Are the Hostages?

Tom Riddle knows the entire Weasley family are very strong members of the Order of the Phoenix. He knows early in that Neville Longbottom is instigating rebellion within Hogwarts.

Ginny is not immediately taken from Hogwarts, she is, in fact, sent on her merry way and seems to do just fine for months even when her brothers are writing “U No Poo” on their store windows (and indeed, Fred and George suffer nothing for that either). 

Neville, while he does eventually go into hiding, is able to act on his own for months as a known close friend of Harry Potter’s and is never taken hostage.

To me it seems very clear that Tom Riddle really does want to leave the kids alone and as undisturbed as he reasonably can given the circumstances.

The Battle of Hogwarts: The Timeout

Tom is eventually forced to invade Hogwarts. His enemies are school children and the teachers who think it’s a brilliant idea to send said school children into battle (it’s the Dumbledore way!)

It’s a slaughter house.

As Harry’s running around like a lunatic he glimpses children being murdered and grievously injured left and right. The Death Eaters are not suffering nealry as collosol damages.

And yet, despite this, Tom calls for a timeout.

He gives a very weird speech, in which he’s giving them an hour reprieve (HINT HINT, WINK WINK) in which they are to deliver him Harry Potter. At which point the battle will be over and they can all go home.

Tom had the advantage, had he cared nothing for the children or actively wanted to put them down, he could have easily done so and captured Harry Potter. Instead, he takes the world’s weirdest timeout, making a very loud announcement about his timeout, likely in the hopes that the children would take the hint and get the hell out of the castle.

No one gets the hint.

Instead, Harry Potter shows up ready to be murdered. Tom will take it, murders Harry, carries his corpse into Hogwarts saying, “YOUR HERO IS DEAD, DESPAIR, NOW PLEASE LEAVE SO I CAN STOP MURDERING ALL OF YOU.”

Harry then springs to life, “GOOD NEWS, EVERYONE! I’M NOT DEAD, YOU CAN CONTINUE MURDERING ALL OF US!”

Tom dies inside, then per my earlier post, runs into an arrow and dies for realz.

TL;DR Tom Riddle’s life is a joke in which he unintentionally ends up murdering the children

[thetriggeredhappy]

hi!! i've read most of your fics at this point and you've gotten me obsessed with sniperscout, especially the way you write them! i just wanted to ask, do you know of (or would you ever consider writing) a fic where sniper is kinda self-conscious about his looks and scout reassures him?

sometimes ya boy’s gotta be the one doing the comforting

(no warnings)

-

He dragged a hand down across his jaw, grimacing lightly to himself, then more firmly at the lines that it drew across his face.

Some days, he wished he didn’t have a mirror. That instead he just... could go back to the way he operated back when he did hunting and tracking. With months at a time on his own, he didn’t particularly need to keep up appearances, and would only go to the trouble of tracking down a pocket mirror when he needed to give himself a haircut or something of the like. Nowadays, though, he was committed to at least looking presentable, which meant pinning a mirror in place above the sink, mostly used for when he shaved.

And... well, now he was checking more often, admittedly. Usually he didn’t bother with worrying about the details of his face and clothes, since nobody tended to look too closely at him anyways. The hat and the shooting glasses and the high collar on his vest tended to do pretty well for him, and it wasn’t like anyone would care.

Except now, someone did.

He dragged a hand up through his hair, frowning at the way it seemed to just do whatever the hell it wanted, here before he had it gelled back. He was due for a haircut, honestly, but every time he cut his hair, by the end of it he felt like the clean cut just drew more attention to how scruffy the rest of him looked.

He drew a thumb against the lines around his eyes as if he could smooth them out somehow. Bared his teeth enough for glare at the slight crookedness and oddness to them, his strangely sharp canines in particular. Tilted his head to either side to ogle the numerous little scars dotting his skin.

And god, that’s just what he could see in the little mirror.

He hated going into the workout room on the base more than anything in the world, because right there by the door, impossible to miss, were the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and he was forced to confront his... his gangly limbs, his shoulders wideset but not thick with muscle, arms long but weak, bony all along his legs and thin in the chest but soft in the middle and scraggly all over.

He winced at himself.

It wasn’t like standing next to the person he was meant to get ready to go see would help at all. Scout didn’t have to deal with having weird elbows. 
God, Scout was gorgeous. Not in some boring sort of standard way, no, he just looked downright lovely. Built like the embodiment of speed, moved like he knew where he was going, like efficiency. Soft angles in the face that made him seem so friendly, so personable, and his hair always looked right no matter how many times he pulled his hat off to drag a hand through it, and he smiled with his eyes, with his whole body, and he seemed to stretch and bend just right to always make it so obvious what was going on in his head. He was built like artwork.

And then Sniper was just...

He considered cancelling and saying he was sick—hell, he considered shooting himself in the foot with his rifle to get a trip to the infirmary—but he knew Scout was looking forward to this, and he shouldn’t let his ridiculousness ruin Scout’s night.

It was cold enough as it got later at night to justify the scarf pulled up snug to nearly cover the bottom part of his face, and he didn’t ever go anywhere without his hat and glasses even if he didn’t usually pull the hat down so far, and that combined with a baggy coat were enough to hide him sufficiently. He could at least go out like this, he was sure. And he felt guilty, momentarily, that once again all the nicer civilian-type clothes that Scout had gone to the trouble of going out and helping him pick would go unworn, but maybe on one of his less... nervous days, he would have the courage.

And he was hoping and praying the entire walk over to base that it would be left at that, absolutely sure that any attention would be bad attention. But as he tended to do—hell, as he always did—Scout found a way to surprise him.

“Jesus, you alive under there?” Scout laughed, looking up from where he was leaned against the wall by the garage. “Were we supposed to be goin’ undercover or somethin’? Because if we are, I better change.”

Loud, would be one word to describe Scout’s shirt. The patterns were bright and eccentric, eye-catching and vibrant, especially against the otherwise normal jeans and worn-to-hell sneakers he had on. And his hair had clearly been smoothed back a bit, but that cowlick at the front still hung down over his forehead and bounced with the way his shoulders shook under continued laughter. 
Comfort and nervousness all in one. Ease and uncertainty. He settled for a vague shrug. “Might get chilly,” he mumbled.

“Jesus, again with the saying it’s cold,” Scout laughed, rolling his eyes. “You wouldn’t last a week in Boston, babe, seriously.”

He was in the middle of deciding whether he more wanted to address the fact that he could handle cold just fine, thank you very much, or the fact that Scout had just called him babe, when Scout had suddenly moved forward into his space, performing three gestures one after another—first flicking up the front of his hat, then snagging off his glasses, then tugging down the scarf that was over the bottom part of his face—and before he could do much of anything about it, Scout had tipped up onto his toes to kiss him once, soundly, at the corner of his mouth.

When he pulled back, his grin was lopsided and pleased. “There he is,” he said, “there’s my handsome guy.”

His sputter of laughter was as incredulous as it was involuntary. “Handsome?” he repeated, doubtful.

“Damn right,” Scout agreed, and kissed him on the other side of the mouth for symmetry, and he had to smooth out the way it pulled his face into a smile, cringing internally at how it surely made all the lines on his face that much more obvious. “Wicked handsome.”

“Right, mate,” he scoffed, glancing off to one side, face feeling hot.

“C’mon, seriously,” Scout said, as if Sniper was the one who was being ridiculous. “Have you seen you? You’re, like, rugged Rock Hudson. Like, uh—fuck, who’s that one guy? From Casablanca?”

“Er... that bloke, Henreid, is it?”

“Nah, nah, uh...” He snapped his fingers a few times. “Uh, somethin’ with a ‘B’... Bogart, Humphrey Bogart! Plays the main guy, ‘Here’s lookin’ at you, kid’, that guy. You’re taller, though. And I like your hair way better.”

“You can’t be serious,” Sniper muttered, tugging on his hat, but Scout just ticked it right back up again, looped an arm up over his shoulders to pull him down into a short kiss, then a long one. He felt half-dizzy by the time Scout pulled back away, flashing that lopsided grin again.

“Dead serious,” he said, smiling with his eyes, and he scoffed again at it, at himself, at all of this.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said firmly.

“You’re handsome,” Scout said again, just as firmly.

“Well, one of us is wrong,” Sniper said.

“And it’s not me,” Scout said, and kissed him once more before he could reply, and pulled back again, pushed his glasses back up onto his face crookedly. “Alright, c’mon. Tacos.”

Stood in line later, Sniper dragged a hand down over his face, thinking.

Rugged Rock Hudson, huh?

[hadtochangemyurlquick]

here’s 7.1k of Toni pining and Shelby and Toni being childhood friends and also far more character analysis of Rachel than I was expecting? also Marcus is real and I made him a gorgeous himbo. it’s based off that poem by @theycallmedizzy and you can find it here. lmk if you want a second chapter from shelby’s perspective, tho i literally just finished this one. like literally ten minute ago.

Mr. Williams finishes reading the poem and looks over his spectacles at the class. Yes, they’re spectacles, those kind of tiny thick ones that make his eyes too big because he’s much too old to be teaching.

It’s eight am on a Tuesday, Toni walked the three miles to school because she missed the bus only to walk into her shitty honors English class and hear the teacher reading a poem aloud to the class. Her poem. She’d sat down after a momentary pause and listened to him read the final damning stanza.

And then he looks at Toni.

He reads her essays right? What if he recognizes her writing voice? Is that a thing? Or maybe her handwriting or—

“Toni, I was just explaining to the class that whoever wrote this should submit it to the state literature festival,” Mr. Williams says, Toni almost sags against her chair. “I was hoping someone would come forward,” He turns back to the class, eyes hovering over Quinn and Monty, two of the more sensitive guys who sit in the back and ruin the curve for everyone. “But I’ll leave it on the board here,” he clacks it on with a magnet and Toni flinches, “and hopefully someone will come forward. Now onto today’s lesson.”

After class Martha goes up to the board and takes a picture of it, her eyes a little starry at the words and Toni grits her teeth.

“You have to admit it’s pretty,” Martha says. “Even you can’t deny that.”

“It’s dumb,” Toni says flatly, crossing her arms.

“Well I’m keeping it anyway, maybe someday someone will write a poem about me,” Martha says.

“How do you know it’s not about you?” Shelby asks coming out of nowhere and uninvited too. Toni glares at her, letting her open disdain shine through like sunshine through clouds after a gully washer.

“No guys notice me,” Martha informs Shelby sadly. “I bet Andrew wrote it for you.”

Shelby purses her lips and looks over the poem, “I doubt it. He’s more of a doer, I think. Besides, I’m sure that guys notice you, you went on a date with that boy Sam last month.”

Martha sighs and before she can launch into what a disaster that date was, Toni tightens her hands around her backpack.

“I’ll see you in science,” She tells Martha and manages to escape Shelby’s eyes burning at the back of her neck.

———

reasons not to kiss her

1.) this sort of love is not allowed. you are both too soft, and the world around you is all knives and chipped teeth

Toni had played about every sport she was allowed to growing up. Basketball was her favorite, but she loved beat it ball, the game she made up with the other kids in the neighborhood. It was basketball but without rules, devolving into fist fights within the first half. Nothing tasted better than her own bloody lip on a hot summer day. Not even the cool glass of lemonade Mrs. Blackburn always had ready when she ran all skinned knees to Martha’s telling her about how she beat guys two years older than her.

She got angry when she had to stop playing, moving to a different neighborhood. Apparently, Mrs. Blackburn had figured out that she wasn’t only getting her split lip from the older kids in the neighborhood.

The new foster parents were a little stricter, a little richer, and signed her up for youth soccer when she complained about how there was nothing to do without beat it ball.

Martha Blackburn would always be her person, but Toni didn’t expect to find her people so young. Dottie killed as goalie, and Becca’s sweetness made her defense all the better. But it was Shelby and Toni who were the dynamic duo. Toni had a never ending amount of energy as a midfielder and Shelby’s precision made her the perfect striker. It worked the same way every game, Becca would kick it to Toni, who got it to Shelby, who scored a goal. It got to the point that Becca didn’t even need to do much and the coach had to pull Toni aside to tell her to pass to the other girls too.

At the end of the season they sat together at the team party, wearing orange slice smiles. With sticky fingers they held hands and Toni kinda wondered how someone’s eyes could be so green.

Toni doesn’t remember why Shelby’s parents were so angry about them holding hands, but she knows Mr. Goodkind talked to her foster parents and Toni was off to a different home, in a different district, and she lost even Martha for a few months.

———

At lunch everyone’s talking about that fucking poem. Martha sent it around to the whole school and Leah is discussing its merits with Rachel and Nora. Even they don’t seem bored with the topic, though Nora is sure Quinn didn’t write it.

“It could be Monty,” Leah says. “I wouldn’t have thought he had an eye for this stuff.”

“I don’t think it’s Monty,” Rachel says. She looks at Nora, “C’mon, you know what I’m talking about, right?”

“What?” Nora asks.

“I mean it smells like Anna Akhmatova had a baby with Adrienne Rich,” Rachel says.

“Who had a baby with who?” Martha asks.

“Please,” Fatin says. “You’re not exactly the world’s leading expert on free form poetry.”

“Uh, I know when something’s written by a girl,” Rachel says. “I bet you fifty bucks some closet case wrote this.”

Everyone looks at Toni. “You caught me,” Toni deadpans.

“Rachel’s right,” Nora says. “A girl definitely wrote this. Toni, do you know anyone?”

Toni glares at her. “I’ll shake the lesbian phone tree and see what comes out.”

“Well, could it be Regan?” Martha asks. “Maybe she wants to—”

“It’s not fucking Regan,” Toni grabs her books and stalks out, kicking a chair randomly strewn around away as she did.

She hears Shelby sit down just as she leaves, “What’s got her madder than a baptized cat?” Shelby asks and Toni rolls her eyes.

———

2.) no one ever taught you how to love. your war paint and scarred hands could never hold her like she deserves

The worst of it was that Shelby was gentle. Her hands were warm and soft around Toni’s callouses, and there was a crinkle between her eyebrows as she focused on Toni’s hands. No, the worst of it was that Shelby didn’t let go of Toni’s hands when she finished, kept holding onto them as she met Toni’s eyes.

“Well?”

Toni swallowed hard, “I’m not gonna apologize.”

Shelby sighed, her thumb traced little circles around Toni’s hands. “I know today ain’t easy for you.” Toni scoffed and looked away. “But you know you were pickin' a fight. Andrew promised to leave you alone.”

Toni ripped her hands away and jumped from the bench of the locker room. “What the fuck do you know? You weren’t fucking there.”

Shelby’s calm only made Toni’s anger redder, “You ain’t denying it.”

“Why the fuck are you dating him? He’s a self-satisfied little asshole who just wants a little trophy girlfriend to—”

“Toni,” Shelby cut her off sharply and got to her feet, meeting Toni’s eyes.

“You’re not denying that either,” Toni spat.

She could’ve screamed at the hypocrisy. She wanted to scream. She wanted to pound her fists against the walls and bleed all over the bandages Shelby wrapped around her knuckles. She wanted to hurt, to make Shelby hurt. She wanted everyone to see and feel how hurt she was, and hurt them with that hurt. Finally level the playing field.

“Andrew is my business,” Shelby said. “Not yours.”

“He becomes my business when you—”

“When I what?” Shelby asked.

Toni looked at her hands, “Never mind.”

Shelby sighed, “Martha’s helping you move in today, right? Shel’ll be there the whole time?”

“Don’t pretend you give a shit.”

“Of course I care. The last time you lived with your mom you didn’t eat for a week.”

“I was five, not fifteen,” Toni said. “And seriously, stop pretending you give a shit.”

She shoulder checked Shelby as she walked out and winced at the sound of Shelby hitting the gym lockers. Her hands still sting where Andrew’s teeth had scrapped them.

———

Regan approaches Toni during science, her eyes serious. Martha straightens, and Toni does her best not to make eye contact.

“It’s not mine,” Regan says.

“Yeah duh,” Toni mutters.

Regan frowns, “I just—I didn’t want you to—”

“You made it perfectly clear what you want,” Toni says.

Regan sighs and leaves and Toni regrets it.

“Shelby thinks it’s Marcus,” Martha tells her. Toni blinks up at her and Martha nods. “She thinks he wrote it for me.”

“Martha, that kid is dumber than a box of rocks,” Toni says.

Martha furrows her brow, “Maybe he has hidden depths.”

“If you think it’s him ask him out,” Toni says.

“Shelby thinks it’s him,” Martha is quick to correct. “But he doesn’t even know who I am.”

Toni rolls her eyes. Marcus had been in love with Martha since the ninth grade. They had gotten placed as lab partners and he literally didn’t take his eyes off her the entire time. Every time there was a dance he would always look like he was about to say something, shoot his shot, when Martha would loudly proclaim she couldn’t wait to go with her friends.

Toni would’ve pulled the guy aside and told him to grow a pair, but a guy who’s not brave enough to go after what he wants wasn’t good enough for her Marty, not by a long shot.

“Rachel still thinks a girl wrote it,” Martha says.

“Maybe Rachel wrote it,” Toni mutters.

Martha’s eyes light up.

———

3.) no one has ever loved you this full surely you would drown in it all

Being a lifeguard was the worst. It was super boring, the pay was shit, and also Toni would probably get someone killed. Like, they pretended she was CPR certified but she absolutely had no idea how to do it. She went to some hour long course, slept through it, took a test that was just: should you kill people? And then they wrote some bullshit on some papers about a three week long set of classes.

But Shelby was tanned and golden looking and on their shifts they’d text back and forth about which kids they were betting on to win sharks and minnows. Tweenage boys in all their adolescent infancy would gaze open mouthed at Shelby and Toni alike but Shelby was the only one who let them down gently. Toni would ruin them for girls forever with something enough to cut through even the thickest skin.

On the fourth of July the pool paid for fireworks and Toni found a blanket and Shelby found her and they sat watching the reflections of the lights together. Shelby rested her head on Toni’s shoulder, all gentle, like she was afraid Toni would spook.

“I know this ain’t much of a holiday for you,” Shelby said. “But thank you for spending it with me.”

She had her hand on the blanket, splayed out like she was waiting for Toni to take it, there in front of everyone. Toni imagined a world in which she did.

———

“Yeah it’s not me,” Rachel says. “I wish I could write that good.”

Which is such bullshit because Toni knows Rachel could say well if she wanted to. Rachel’s weird inferiority complex about Nora pisses off Toni to no end. Nora’s the smart one, Rachel will be the first to say, and Rachel’s the athletic one. But Nora has a six minute mile and Rachel has perfect pitch so Toni hates them both.

“Maybe it’s Dot,” Toni suggests and Rachel, Nora, and Martha snicker.

Out of all of them, Martha’s the best driver, but they always end up in Rachel’s car after school anyway.

“Most of the school seems to think it’s by Andrew,” Nora says. Toni’s fists clench.

“Yeah,” Rachel rolls her eyes, “I’m sure he would love to take the credit. C’mon Toni, you don’t know any lesbians who could’ve written this?”

“You’re a lesbian too,” Toni says. “You don’t know any?”

“I don’t have a life outside of the pool,” Rachel says, “and none of them have picked up a book since Hop on Pop.”

“Regan says it wasn’t her,” Martha cuts in helpfully. “But maybe it’s another kid in theatre. Shelby says—”

“Oh my god,” Toni grits out. “What is everyone’s deal with her anyway? Why is everyone still obsessed with her? She’s just another basic Jesus bitch.”

The car goes quiet and Toni wishes she could melt into her seat cushion.

“I didn’t mean that,” Toni says.

“Except you did,” Martha snaps.

Toni winces.

“What’s your deal with her?” Rachel asks. “You guys were fine last year.”

“Quinn says there’s a poetry club,” Nora says. “Maybe it’s someone there?”

No one takes the bait and they don’t talk the rest of the way.

———

4.) she belongs in a museum, and you are merely here to gaze. look around you, all the signs scream ‘do not touch’

“Shelby?”

Toni grabbed the shoulder of the girl and pulled her away from Marcus. Shelby was bruised lips and ruined make up and Toni took her by the hand. Thank god Martha wasn’t here, thank god Andrew wasn’t here, thank god Marcus looked just as trashed.

“Toni?” Shelby sorta stumbled, her ankle twisting painfully on her heel and Toni steadied her.

Shelby could do a cartwheel in six inch heels.

“I’m gonna get you home, okay?” Toni called over the music.

Shelby didn’t really respond, just leant into Toni as she led her away and outside. The party had spilled into the backyard and front yard some, the cops probably already on their way, but everyone was too fucking hammered to notice them making their way out.

Shelby’s house was only about a twenty minute walk but it was cold and Toni was only wearing her basketball shorts and her mom’s jacket that she promptly put over Shelby’s shoulders.

“Are you still—” Shelby swallowed hard, “You’re still living with your mom?”

“Mostly with Martha,” Toni said.

“Martha’s great,” Shelby said. “She’s so pretty it makes my eyes hurt.”

“One of our finest,” Toni grunted as Shelby nearly fell on her heels again.

“She could be a model,” Shelby told her. “We should get waffle house.”

“Shelbs, we’re nowhere near a waffle house.”

“What was Becca’s order? At waffle house?”

Toni sighed, looping an arm around her. “I dunno.”

“Neither do I,” Shelby said.

“I’m sorry, Shelby,” Toni said.

Shelby shook her head and stopped right there, circling her arms around Toni and pressing her into a hug. Toni closed her eyes, holding her back as tightly as she dared.

“Oh, Shelby, I’m so fucking sorry.”

———

“Day two!” Mr. Williams calls. He taps the poem again, “I will investigate the handwriting if the poet doesn’t come forward by Friday. I know it’s someone in one of my classes.”

His eyes narrow as he takes them all in and his eyes don’t linger on Toni. Not even for a moment.

There’s a part of her that wants to march up to the front of the room and write her name down, make eye contact with everyone who never even considered her before. But no one expects shit from her, and even if he does go over the handwriting he won’t really be able to pin it on her. He might not even bother checking to see if it matches.

Toni tries not to jump when Marcus takes the seat in front of her during quant lit. It’s not like they have assigned seating but everyone sticks to the same seats anyway. Marcus won’t get shit for it though, perks of being the quarterback.

“So, listen,” he scratches the back of his head and Toni rolls her eyes at him. “I know we aren’t really friends but I—um.”

“Marcus,” Toni says.

“I wanna ask Martha out,” Marcus rushes out. “She’s like the nicest, smartest, coolest girl in the school and like her eyes are out of this world radical.” Radical? “And I would take her somewhere nice like Olive Garden. Or Cheesecake Factory? And pay for it, and open all the doors for her, and I’d carry her books to class—”

“On your date? This is happening during school?” Toni asks.

His eyebrows furrow as he tries to connect the dots. Football players.

“Oh no! I meant like, after, if she wants me to,” He says. “Can I?”

“Can you what?”

“Can I ask her out?”

Toni blinks at him. “What?”

“My buddy said if you want to get with a girl you get close to the best friend first, and I figured I’d ask you for your blessing because that’s what they do in old fashioned stuff right?” He bounces up in down in his seat. “Can I? Or like, do you wanna give me your blessing?”

She feels like she’s having an aneurysm.

Listen, Marcus having feelings for Martha is one thing. Everyone on the planet who’s ever met Martha falls a little in love with her. That’s kinda just how she operates. Toni narrowly avoided that pitfall by being lucky enough to know her since she was five, but it was a tough time. But Marcus was never gonna act on it. Marcus can’t—he’s the quarterback.

It’s basic math, Marcus is a six foot five football player with shoulders wide enough to bench press the Subaru Forrester Toni’s legally required to buy when she turns thirty-two. He’s got that all American boy smile that shows of perfectly white teeth, and dark hair that sweeps in front of his eyes. His face looks like it was sculpted out of marble, like literally he looks like some sort of roman god, except if that roman god volunteered at the humane society on the weekends and called his mom Mami.

Martha is a res girl who’s best friend is the dyke with anger issues. And like yeah, she’s stupid pretty, but Marcus has exclusively dated varsity cheerleaders since the seventh grade.

So yeah, even if Marcus may have feelings for Marty, everyone fucking does, and there’s a host of reasons why she doesn’t have a date to every dance and a new guy every week. And most of them are the cliche high school movie hierarchy sort.

“It’s really none of my business, man,” she says.

“Dude, it’s totally your business,” Marcus says. He leans closer, “you two are like sisters right? What do I gotta do to prove I’m not gonna hurt her? I’ll do your math homework for a month, no two months.”

A thought occurs to Toni and it’s a terrible one. But when has that ever stopped her?

“You’re in my honors English class right?”

Marcus’s face screws in, “Uh, yeah. But I don’t think you want me doing your homework in there, I’m like totally failing.”

“I have a better idea.”

———

5.) she touches you like youre fragile, and if you break you wont be able put yourself together again

Dot was asleep which was Toni’s first indication that something was deeply wrong. The second was that Shelby wasn’t. She was definitely trying her darnedest, but Toni could tell she was awake. Awake in her arms.

Toni shifted, just enough to let Shelby know she was awake too. The movie was some horror flick, something dumb and flashy and almost muted it was so quiet. It was the only thing rated R that they could all agree on. Dot’s house was the only place they were allowed to watch anything rated R when they were still thirteen, so it was all they watched there.

She felt Shelby shift up, so her head rested on Toni’s chest, shifted until her lips met Toni’s clavicle.

Toni wondered if she’d die.

Shelby went up instead of down, pressing kisses up the length of Toni’s neck, soft barely there things that made Toni’s breath catch as she watched Dot snore on the couch next to them.

Toni’s hands moved to the inside of Shelby’s thighs and they stared there, tracing delicate patterns that only made Shelby curl closer.

“I think you’re probably the most beautiful girl I ever saw,” Shelby whispered.

“I—”

“I’m not done.”

Toni’s mouth clamped shut.

“I think about you all the time,” Shelby whispered. “Even when I—”

“Shelby,” Toni warned. Shelby pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“You’re right,” Shelby said.

Neither of them slept that night.

———

Toni walks into class three minutes late with Mr. Williams, and takes her seat with a sulk.

“He still won’t let me redo that paper,” Toni mutters to Martha who’s eyes are wide.

“Toni, Marcus just—” She nods her head at the poem where Mr. Williams is studying it too.

“Marcus Gonzales?” Mr. Williams asks.

Marcus gets to his feet.

“You wrote this?”

“Yessir.”

“This poem right here?”

“Yessir.”

Mr. Williams blinks and takes off his spectacles, setting them down on the desk. “We’ll talk after class. I should hope everyone has a copy of—”

“I wrote it for Martha,” Marcus doesn’t sit down and the entire class stares at him.

“—Franny and Zooey and I would like you all to turn to page 52. Begin by annotating—”

“Martha, can I take you out on a date?” Marcus asks.

“—this first section, and on to page 64. Remember what Seymour serves as in—”

Martha blushes hard and glances at Toni who smiles before she looks back at Marcus in all his golden boy 6’5” glory.

“Um, okay,” she mutters out and he grins.

“Cool.” Marcus finally sits and gives Toni a thumbs up. She rolls her eyes.

“—this story and compare that to his roles in the other parts of the work we’ve read.”

“I told you it was for you, girl,” Shelby says on Martha’s other side. “People always have a way of surprising you.”

———

6.) she is all bubblegum skies and chapped stick kisses, and you cannot watch the love run out of another persons eyes

They were all a little bit slap happy by the end of the night. A little bit drunk, a little bit high, and laughing far too hard at one another.

“I’m scared,” Shelby told them, still grinning wider than any pageant smile.

“Girl, you picked dare,” Fatin said.

“I did,” Shelby bit her lip. “But all y’all dared Leah to do was finish the vodka.”

“That was—that was bad vodka,” Leah slurred from her position on Dot’s lap.

“But now we’re out of vodka,” Martha sang. “You picked dare.”

“I’ll go with you,” Toni got to her feet, surprised when they were more steady than she assumed they’d be. “Two chairs right?”

“Alright,” Shelby said. “And you’ll hold my hand?”

“Sure princess,” Toni rolled her eyes.

It was an office supply place, probably. The parking lot had this killer decline, and it was one of those spring nights where nothing could really ruin anything. Not forever.

The rolling chairs were kinda gross, left there but not yet picked up by the garbage men. They had to do a special pickup for that, which costed extra. No one in the office had done it for the weeks the girls had been going there after parties.

“Be careful,” Nora urged.

“Don’t fall,” Rachel suggested.

“Hold on, I’m not recording yet,” Fatin said. “Okay now go.”

They pushed off in their rolling chairs, holding hands, and sped down the decline laughing as they barely managed to hold on and steer at the same time.

Toni went flying as she bumped into a patch of grass and for some reason, Shelby went flying with her, landing on top. Toni grunted, but she wasn’t in pain, not really.

They met eyes.

“Sorry,” Shelby said. She didn’t sound sorry.

“You okay?” Toni asked.

Shelby smiled, this real soft thing, Toni wondered what it’d taste like.

“Fuck yeah bitches! I’m so putting that on snapchat!” Fatin screamed and Shelby pulled away, turning white.

“God if this is you in in freshman year, I’m terrified of you as a senior,” Toni called back.

Shelby’s hand slipped out of her’s and Toni tried very very hard not to overthink it.

———

“So I’ve been thinking,” Leah said. Toni took her gym bag out of her locker, pretty much the only thing she kept in there.

“Oh no.”

“Rachel was right about that poem being written by a girl,” Leah continued. “Which meant Marcus lied. And Marcus would never do that unless someone gave him permission to take credit. And since Marcus lied so he could ask Martha out that means the person who wrote the poem wanted Martha to be happy.”

Toni swallowed hard and tried not to fumble with the lock, stumbling with it.

“Toni,” Leah walked over to her. “You need to face the facts: Shelby’s into you.”

Toni blinked, “What?”

“She wrote that whole poem for you, don’t tell me you don’t see it. It’s about you!”

“She—” Toni stopped and furrowed her brow, finally making eye contact with Leah, “You think she wrote that poem for me?”

Leah nodded, “And she let Marcus take the credit. Listen, I know I’m right. I’ve been thinking about it for ages. Whatever fight the two of you had—you need to get over it. She’s into you, Toni. She’s been into you.”

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” Toni told her. “Seriously, fuck you Leah and fuck off. This is none of your fucking business.”

“You aren’t denying it,” Leah crowed. “Shelby likes you.”

“No she fucking doesn’t!” Toni spat at her. “She fucking hates me! She didn’t write that poem Marcus did! For Martha!”

Leah’s brow furrowed, “But… but you wanted her to. Didn’t you?”

Toni looked away.

“Shelby’s actually straight, isn’t she?” Leah asked. “Fuck Toni.”

“I’m happy for Martha,” Toni said, and marched away.

———

7.) if you jump, she might catch you, and then youd have to watch as she tumbled through the dark

“What if we ran away?” Shelby asked, which was Toni’s third indication that the punch was spiked.

The first two were her arms wrapped around Toni’s waist, swaying in the soft breeze to the distant music of Junior prom.

“Oh yeah?” Toni asked. “Where’d we go?”

“Peru,” Shelby said. “Or LA, or New York or—” Shelby sort of trailed off, losing her thought halfway through it.

“Our parents,” Toni pointed out. She’d moved in with Martha a few months ago but her mom had taken it as a wakeup call, promising to get her shit back together as soon as she could. Toni couldn’t help but believe her, even if it put her in stasis.

“Right,” Shelby sounded cold, “Our parents.”

“Are things worse with them?” Toni asked.

“No,” Shelby said. “The same, really. They’ve lightened up since—since Becca. Have you heard from your mom?”

“Every week or so,” Toni said. “And if you ever need a break you know—“

“Martha is happy to have me,” Shelby finished.

Toni smiled and pulled away enough to meet Shelby’s eyes, her hands slid from behind Shelby’s neck to either side.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” Toni asked.

“You did,” Shelby said.

“Can I say it again?”

“You can.”

“You look beautiful tonight.” Shelby closed her eyes and Toni tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re gonna get out, you know that right?”

Shelby nodded, leaning into Toni’s hand.

Later, Toni will learn that was one of two lies Shelby told that night.

———

Martha gets home at 11:30, exactly when Marcus promised, and Toni smiles as her sister collapses backwards into her bed.

“Toni,” she actually giggles, giggles like a little school girl. “It was amazing.”

“Where’d you go?” Toni asks.

“Olive Garden, I think he was trying to win points with you,” Martha says.

“As he should,” Toni nods.

“He was the perfect gentleman,” Martha swoons. She rolls onto her stomach and looks at Toni and oh god, Toni knows that look. “He did tell me something about you, though.”

“Oh yeah? How I’m better in quant lit than him?” Toni asks.

“He told me you wrote the poem,” she says.

Toni looks away, “Okay, and?”

“You told me you were over Regan,” Martha says.

“It’s complicated,” Toni decides. “And whatever. I wrote it awhile ago anyway.”

“Have you thought about submitting it to that contest Mr. Williams was talking about?” Martha asks.

“Can we go back to talking about your date with Prince Charming?” Toni says. Martha acquiesces, she’s too damn giddy to do anything else.

———

8.) her gaze is too gentle. you will not be the one to tell her that not everything can be fixed with a smile

“Toni,” Dot began, and Toni could tell she was looking at her. “Toni, is Shelby—is she gay?”

Toni snickered, “Dot, Shelby is possibly the biggest straight girl in our school. Maybe our state. She’d sooner give herself a buzzcut than she would ever even kiss a girl."

“Andrew said Shelby got a job as a counselor at this church camp—Guiding Light—in Plano,” Dot said. “I wanted to find the address so I could write to her and it’s a conversion camp.”

The breath left Toni’s body.

“What?”

“And I got to thinking,” Dot said. “About what a mess she was after Becca died this year. Ignoring us, going to all those parties, signing up for a crazy number of pageants. Hell, it was only once you two started talking that she talked to us again.”

“Stop it, Dot.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

“Dot,” Toni said.

“Because if she’s gay, if she’s not there as a camp counselor—Toni, did you know about this?”

“Of course not! Jesus!” Toni said. She jumped to her feet and started to pace, “Jesus Christ. Oh my god.”

“Toni is Shelby gay?”

Toni looked at Dot and Dot sighed, her entire body sagging.

“What do we do?” Toni asked.

Dot, her solid, steady, friend since fucking youth soccer was silent.

“Dot, what do we do?”

“Dot, what the fuck do we do?”

———

Shelby finds her before school, Toni smoking like she hasn’t since ninth grade when Bernice gave her a stern lecture about lung cancer. It made Toni cry, actually. Not because it was so stern but because Martha and Toni had been separated for three years and Bernice still cared enough to get angry with her. She promised then and there to stop, and each drag she took now makes her feel like she’s committing treason.

“Smokin’ kills,” Shelby tells her, like they didn’t all go to Dot’s dad’s funeral last year.

Toni takes another drag, just to watch Shelby roll her eyes.

“How’d Martha’s date go last night?” Shelby asks.

Toni glares, “Seriously? You avoid me all year and now you’re asking about Martha’s date?” Shelby looks away. “It went fine. Whatever.”

“I just—I was surprised Marcus wrote that poem is all.”

“You literally said multiple times you thought it was him,” Toni says.

“I know, I know but—”

“Still holding out hope for Andrew?” Toni sneers. “Marcus may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but he cares about Martha. Even a fucking idiot could write a half decent poem if they had someone worth writing about.”

Shelby meets her eyes and Toni’s breath catches.

“Know a lot about poetry, Toni?”

Fuck fuck fuck.

Toni flicks the only half used cigarette away. “I have to go to class,” She says, aware it’s just about the worst thing she can do.

Shelby doesn’t even need the last word, she’s aware she’s already won.  

———

9.) she is so good. she is so good, and you cannot ruin one more good thing

It hadn’t been the first time Toni found her mom overdosed on the couch, but it’d been the most terrifying. Toni had waited in the school parking lot for a pick up for twenty minutes before Shelby had offered her a ride.

When they trooped inside, after having to use the key Tamera kept tucked away in a loose brick, her mom had been passed out on the couch. And the stupid thing had been that Toni had known her mom hadn’t been doing great. Like she’d known Tamera had lost her job, and was close to losing the car, that the pain in her back had been getting worse again from stress. Toni had known that.

But for some stupid, naive reason, Toni had never thought she’d pull this, go back to who she was.

Her tolerance was low, the doctors had told her, because she’d been clean for so long. She hadn’t realized it and had taken more than she could handle.

Shelby had taken the three of them to the hospital, helped carry Toni’s drooling mother into the ER, and held Toni’s hand until the other girls showed up, who she texted to come.

Shelby had been there when the police and social services came to talk to her about going back into foster care. Shelby had never left her side.

Toni couldn’t help but contrast that to the Shelby she saw now. The Shelby who showed up for senior year was barely christian, barely anything, just sort of blank and empty and waiting to grow up so she could have daughters that'd also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also wait to grow up so that they could have daughters that’d also

Shelby didn’t even look at her, for the first week of senior year she didn’t even look at Toni. She talked with Martha in that faux friendly way, she passed off on lunch invitations to do school work and Toni felt like she was going insane.

Sometimes she would just stare at the back of Shelby’s head in English class, writing whatever gibberish came to mind, and not listening to Mr. Williams at all. Just stare, for forty-five minutes, at a girl who wouldn’t even make eye contact, Toni’s pencil moving rapidly as she barely even glanced at the words her hands produced.

On the last day of the semester Toni finally looked away and came to two realizations:

a. Her mother was never getting better. Not really. b. Toni had written P E R U over forty times in her notebook.

As quietly as she could she tore the page out, and maybe about fifteen pages behind it, filled with similar drivel and recycled them at the end of class.

When the next semester started the seats were changed and something she’d written that she barely remembered was on the board.

Her mother was still in rehab.

———

Toni watches Marcus carry Martha’s backpack to class and watches as Martha giggles at him, argues with him. She is literally so happy it makes Toni’s heart burst.

“Shelby’s quite the matchmaker, huh?” Fatin asks.

Toni looks at her.

“Leah told me,” Fatin explains.

Toni rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what I said too,” Fatin says. “Leah’s good at noticing things but putting the pieces together is not her strong suit. So I called Dorothy.”

This makes Toni’s shoulders tense and Fatin wraps an arm around them.

“Dorothy didn’t want to talk but what she didn’t say was enough.” Fatin sighs, “I’m all for a little drama but this is cutting into my me time.”

“What going from twenty-four hours a day to twenty-three and a half?” Toni asks.

“God forbid,” Fatin nods sagely. “I didn’t know you could write.”

“I can’t.”

“Clearly not.”

Toni slips out from under her arm, and follows Martha into class. Mr. Williams glares as she comes in and Toni realizes if Marcus came clean to Martha he definitely came clean to Mr. Williams. At least the poem is off the board.

When he passes out papers from a recent essay her’s has a “see me after class” sticker that makes Toni slide down in her seat. Martha doesn’t even notice enough to give her an odd look because she and Shelby are yukking it up about the quarterback.

When everyone files out she hangs back and he looks at her, over his spectacles.

“I’m disappointed,” he says at last.

Toni scoffs.

“You write essays based off spark notes, you never participate, and half the time you don’t even do the homework. But you write this.” He slides the crumpled paper over his desk, her poem shining back at her. “So all I can conclude is that you’re lazy.”

Yeah, obviously.

“Why did you have Marcus tell everyone he wrote it?” Mr. Williams asks.

“So he could ask out Martha.”

“He didn’t need to have written the poem to do that,” Mr. Williams says.

“Can I go?” Toni asks.

“I want to submit this poem to a contest, I want you to start trying in this class, and this,” he hands her a slip of paper with about twenty sets of numbers on it, “is a list of Dickinson poems I want you to read by next week. Pick at least three to write me at least a page about. Single spaced.”

“What?” Toni asks, “You can’t make me do that.”

“I know half the kids in this class write off spark notes, I can easily have them all—including you—fail. So yes, yes I can actually.” He takes off his spectacles and Toni glares at him. “You’re a smart kid, Toni. You’ve got a talent for this.”

Toni shakes her head, “I’m a one hit wonder.”

“You know Britney Spears said the same thing after Baby One More Time.”

“That’s not true,” Toni says.

“Yeah,” Mr. Williams says. “Because she kept working at it.”

And Toni takes the slip of paper with the numbers on it, and marches to her next class and he watches her the whole way, not bothering to put on his stupid spectacles.

———

10.) you will not watch her crumble under the weight of your sins. she is too light, too breathless to be caught up in the dizziness of your heart

Dot didn’t invite them all to the funeral but they came anyway, even Shelby who Toni knew had been waffling back and forth.

Some of his army friends showed up, a doctor or two, and Mateo—the hot nurse Dot steadily ignored. It was a small and quiet service, and the seven of them sat towards the back, holding steady for her.

There was too much on Dot’s shoulders, there always had been, but she didn’t look any freer now that the burden was lifted. She just looked scared, small, and sad.

Toni couldn’t help but wonder if that was what she’d look like, if she got the call about her mom. It was a terribly selfish thought but who could blame her?

Shelby’s hands interlocked with hers, in broad daylight, and stayed there for the entire day. When Toni met her eyes she saw pure terror reflected back at her.

God, were they really only seventeen?

———

Rachel is complaining at lunch about owing Nora five bucks, how she was so sure some closet case wrote the poem but it’s no surprise Nora got it right.

Fatin and Leah don’t contribute and Martha probably wouldn’t have either except she was eating lunch with Marcus, they had found their own little table and were smiling at one another.

“They’re certainly cute together,” Shelby says, glancing back at Martha and Marcus.

“I say it’s weird they have the same name,” Rachel says.

“Says the girl who dated a guy named Raymond,” Nora says.

Rachel throws a straw wrapper at him, “That was a phase and you know it.”

“Marcus is sweet,” Shelby says. “If anyone deserves someone sweet it’s Martha.”

“Don’t you think he’s a little,” Leah trailed off and they all looked at her. “You know a little…”

“Spit it out, Leah,” Rachel says.

“Like the porch lights on but no one’s home?” Leah says.

“Martha is smart enough for the both of them,” Toni says. “And thank god because I was sick of doing his homework in quant lit.”

“That’s literally the easiest math class there is,” Fatin says and Toni shrugs.

“What’s that?” Shelby asks, pointing at the yellow slip sticking out of Toni’s binder.

“Some extra credit stuff, from Williams. Apparently I’m not doing so hot in that class,” Toni says.

Rachel leans way over from the other end of the table. “What is that, Dickinson?”

“It’s a list of numbers,” Shelby says. “Why would it be Dickinson?”

“All of Dickinson’s poems were numbered. It was only after she died that other people named them,” Nora says.

“And Nora said it so you know it’s true,” Rachel smirks.

“Join the fucking club,” Dot says to Toni. “I don’t know why y’all didn’t take non-honors English twelve with me. We just sit around and talk about whatever football game was on the most recently.”

“Well I’ve never liked football so.” Toni gets up, “I’ve gotta talk to my science teacher. I’ll see you guys after school.”

“I’ll go with you,” Shelby smiles and Toni clenches her jaw. “Ms. Roberts said I needed to rework my psych paper.”

“See you guys,” Rachel says and as they leave she’s arguing with Dot about why football is stupid and Toni can feel Fatin’s eyes on her all the way out.

———

reasons to kiss her

1.) she loves you, and her eyes are closed, and didnt your mother ever tell you not to leave a good thing waiting

Toni hated the magnet program kids at her middle school. Like everyone not in their cluster she found them annoying, rich, and privileged as fuck. They only hung out with each other and it was clear they’d never give—

———

“Toni?”

The stair well is empty, it’s the short cut through the language hallway and no one goes there during lunch.

Toni is working hard on ignoring Shelby but is forced to turn around when Shelby stops halfway up.

“Ms. Roberts doesn’t need me to rework my psych paper.”

Toni stares at her.

Shelby takes a step up, one step closer to Toni.

“I had hoped maybe you wrote it for Regan,” Shelby says.

“No such luck,” Toni croaks out.

“That’s a lot of reasons not to kiss someone,” Shelby says. “You’d think if you really shouldn’t kiss someone you’d only need the one.” She takes another step up, until they’re only separated by a few inches.

“I guess,” Toni says.

“Are you really gonna keep me waiting?” Shelby says.

Toni blinks, “You mean you still—”

“I have to do everything myself,” Shelby says.

She kisses her.

[nikkoliferous]

Phase One: Avengers (Part One)

With everything being about the LOKI series right now and me dreading it, I figured I'd distract myself by finally posting my thoughts on the Phase One: Avengers novel, which I seem to recall somehow being way worse than the Thor novel? I'm not completely convinced this thing wasn't ghostwritten by Taika Waititi; that's all I'm saying. Anyways, here we go.

(Quick note: please be aware that this overview is significantly Thor-critical. If that sort of thing bothers you, I do not recommend proceeding. You've been warned. Lol)

Let's start off with a friendly reminder that SHIELD had four hours to evacuate before Loki showed up, shall we?

Dr. Selvig read an energy surge from the Tesseract four hours ago,” Coulson was saying.

“I didn’t approve going to testing,” Fury said.

Coulson nodded. “He wasn’t testing it. He wasn’t even in the room. Spontaneous event.”

So either they're grossly incompetent or grossly negligent, but either way those deaths are on them at least as much as they're on Loki. If not more so.

“It just turned itself on?” Hill sounded skeptical. Fury, as usual, was less interested in how they’d gotten there than in what they were going to do next.

[...]

Selvig acknowledged him briefly and then returned his attention to the monitoring equipment. “Director, the Tesseract is misbehaving.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“No, it’s not funny at all. The Tesseract is not only active, she’s… behaving.”

Fury didn’t comment on the doctor characterizing the Tesseract as female. He also wasn’t interested in Selvig’s notions about its personality. It didn’t have a personality. It was a cube containing energy, and all Nick Fury wanted was to know how to control that energy. “I assume you pulled the plug.”

Fury having no intellectual curiosity explains a lot, tbh. Like how he thinks Loki "kills because it's fun", even though nothing about their prior interaction indicates that. Like, at all. Loki killed only the agents who were attacking him. Because he felt threatened. If he indeed killed for the fun of it, he would have taken them all out and been done with it. Doing so would have both entertained him and made for a much smoother getaway.

“She’s an energy source. We turn off the power, she turns it back on. If she reaches peak level—”

“We prepared for this, Doctor. Harnessing energy from space.”

“We’re not ready. My calculations are far from complete. And she’s throwing off interference radiation.”

Fury watched the Tesseract in its circular containment shell. Eight separate energy sensors built into a frame supporting that shell were designed to measure and conduct that energy. Those sensors in turn rested on stainless-steel support scaffolding. The whole setup sprouted cables and conduits. These were there to supply energy to the Tesseract in a controlled fashion so Dr. Selvig could analyze its reactions. Now they were all shut down, as Dr. Selvig had said, but even so, the Tesseract glowed with a fierce blue energy. It was starting to spill onto the sensors, arcing like electricity. But it wasn’t electricity. It was something much more exotic.

I also find it curious/amusing/something that Fury later accuses Loki of "stealing a force [he] can't hope to control". YOU'RE DESCRIBING YOURSELF, NICK. YOU'RE THE ONE WHO CAN'T CONTROL IT AND HAS BEEN ARROGANTLY PRETENDING YOU CAN.

The man looked up at them and smiled as he stood. He was not a large man, not remarkable in any particular way. He had long black hair and wore black leather clothing, similar to what Fury was wearing. However, he wasn’t a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Fury didn’t know where he had come from.

I beg to fucking differ lmao

Fury had the Tesseract in a steel carrying case and was taking a step toward the door when the stranger turned to him and said, “Please don’t. I still need that.”

Kudos to Loki for not forgetting his princely manners even while completely off his rocker. Lol

“This doesn’t have to get any messier,” Fury said. He glanced quickly around, trying to figure the fastest way out.

“Of course it does,” the stranger said. “I’ve come too far for anything else.”

TELL US WHAT YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH, LOKI. INQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW.

“Loki?” Dr. Selvig said. He stood up from helping one of his fellow doctors, who was barely conscious. “Brother of Thor?”

“We have no quarrel with your people,” Fury said.

Loki acknowledged Selvig and then returned his attention to Fury.

By "acknowledged", the author means he rolled his eyes so hard he saw his own brain lmao

“I come with glad tidings,” Loki said. “Of a world made free.”

“Free from what?” Fury asked.

Turning back to him, Loki said simply, “Freedom. Freedom is life’s great lie. Once you accept that in your heart…” As he spoke the word “heart,” he turned and touched Selvig’s chest with the tip of his scepter, just as he had with Hawkeye. Selvig gasped, and the same change came over his face that Fury had seen in Hawkeye’s. “You will know peace.”

He's not simply deranged, you know. For Loki, this is actually true. He has never been free in his entire life, and won't be at any point after this either. Yes, there was also the torture and the mind control at play, but even underneath all that, is it any wonder he was vulnerable to the Thanos cult's brainwashing?

Hawkeye had been looking around the complex. Now he stepped up to Loki. “Sir, Director Fury is stalling. This place is about to blow and drop a hundred feet of rock on us. He means to bury us.”

Loki looked back at Fury, who said, “Like the pharaohs of old.”

“He’s right, the portal is collapsing in on itself!” Selvig called out from the monitors. “We’ve got maybe two minutes before this goes critical.”

Friendly reminder, once again, that Loki wasn't even aware the PEGASUS facility was on the verge of collapsing—let alone the cause of it.

“Well then,” Loki said. He glanced over at Hawkeye.

Without a word, Hawkeye drew his gun and shot Nick Fury once, dead center in the chest.

Two things:

1) Every time I see this scene in gifs, all I can think of is, "Pull the lever, Kronk." 🤣

2) So how does the direct mind control of the sceptre work anyway? Because Loki never actually gives Barton a command here. So does he sometimes communicate with his minions telepathically (sort of like The Other does with him), or does Barton just intuit his intent here, or what?

Maria Hill saw Hawkeye come out of the lab into the garage with Selvig, a liaison officer, and a stranger carrying a spear. He looked more like one of the people they’d been recruiting into the Avengers Initiative than an ordinary technician or S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. “Who's that?” she asked.

*sigh* In a just MCU, this would have been foreshadowing.

She jumped into a jeep and headed after them. Other S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicles followed, filled with agents. They roared along the underground access road that led up to the surface in the New Mexico desert. She was gaining on them and firing as she drove. Sooner or later, she’d be close enough to have a good shot at the stranger.

He had other ideas, though. When he saw the pursuing convoy get too close, he pointed his scepter at them. The tip of it flared bright blue, and a bolt of energy lashed out from it, striking the vehicle in front of Hill and shattering the right side of its passenger compartment. The vehicle slewed around and flipped, rolling and landing sideways across the road. They were blocked.

Interesting of Loki to go for the passenger compartment instead of the driver. Was anyone even sitting there? Just one more example in a long string of Loki being inexplicably merciful to his enemies, I guess. 🤷

They got around ahead of the truck, and Fury leaned out of the helicopter’s side door. He fired, emptying his clip. He could tell from the sparks that some of the bullets had hit, but he was too far away to see if they’d done any damage.

His real target was Loki, but he was protected by the cab of the truck. Fury couldn’t get a good shot at him.

Did Fury already forget that Loki is bulletproof, or...? I mean, I guess that's fair. Earlier, Hawkeye goes to draw his sidearm only minutes after the narration points out that the bullets already fired at Loki had bounced away harmlessly.

Leaning over the truck’s roof and keeping low, however, Loki could get a good shot at the helicopter. A blue bolt lanced out and struck the helicopter’s rotor assembly. All the control mechanisms went haywire, and the helicopter spiraled down out of the sky. The truck drove underneath them as they were about to crash, close enough that Fury could see the gloating expression on Loki’s face.

Haha, good for him.

“Coulson, you know that Stark trusts me about as far as he can throw me,” she said.

“Oh, I’ve got Stark,” Coulson said. “You’ve got the big guy.”

Oh, Natasha thought. That big guy. She said something in Russian. It wasn’t polite.

This has nothing to do with Loki. It just made me laugh.

Nick Fury had called an emergency meeting of the World Security Council. They needed to know what had happened with the Tesseract, and they needed to know what he planned to do about it. He brought up holographic images of all the WSC members, with their faces and locations hidden. He did not know who they were, but S.H.I.E.L.D. reported to them.

Well, that doesn't sound problematic at all, does it?

“The Avengers Initiative was shut down.”

“This isn’t about the Avengers.” That wasn’t strictly true, but Nick Fury was no idiot. He wasn’t going to show all his cards to the World Security Council when he didn’t even know who they were.

I'm glad he at least recognizes the stupidity of working for people he doesn't know, but uh... debatable, otherwise. Lol

“This isn’t about personality profiles anymore,” Coulson said. He wasn’t giving up, and that irritated Tony even more than the fact he’d showed up right when the celebration of Stark Tower was supposed to be starting.

*cough*DIVA*cough*

Loki watched Dr. Erik Selvig work, preparing the Tesseract for the next phase of his plan. Technicians and soldiers scurried about on various errands. Loki did not know the details and did not care. They were beneath him. He had his eye solely on the greater prize. It was time to consult with the Chitauri and begin the next phase of the preparations.

Really? You expect me to believe that Loki, the master tactician with "a cunning mind far exceeding Thor and Odin’s", couldn't be bothered to know the details of his own plan? Um, how about no?

Deep space and a field of stars surrounded this rocky world. Pale blue lights glowed where the Chitauri had built their fortress. They gleamed in a set of stairs that climbed to the topmost tower. That was where Loki had made his bargain with the Chitauri: They would be his army and he would open a path to Earth for them. Once Earth was his, and Asgard as well, he would turn the Tesseract over to them.

At least that was what he had promised.

1) Who said anything about Asgard...?

2) Indicator that Loki never planned on actually turning over the Tesseract? I don't know why you'd include this line otherwise.

“Let them gird themselves,” he said. “I will lead them in glorious battle.”

“Battle?” the Chitauri warrior snorted. “Against the meager might of Earth?”

“Glorious,” Loki repeated. “Not lengthy. If your force is as formidable as you claim.”

He had intended to anger the Chitauri, and he had succeeded.

Personally, I saw this less as intending to anger and more as "Loki has no self-preservation instinct and literally cannot help himself". What's to be gained by intentionally pissing off The Other here?

“You don’t have the Tesseract yet.” The Chitauri leader rushed at Loki and stopped just short of him, claws raised. Loki did not move.

“I don’t threaten,” he said, though he was doing exactly that.

LOL

The Chitauri leader backed down but only a step. “You will have your war, Asgardian,” he growled. Then he too decided to make a threat. “If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he cannot find you. You think you know pain? He will make you long for something as sweet as pain.”

Loki flashed back into his awareness of Earth. He took a deep breath. The Chitauri did not frighten him… but he would have been a fool if he had not possessed a healthy respect for their leader, the mad Titan known as Thanos. For it was Thanos who had given Loki the scepter, and Thanos who had rallied the Chitauri to Loki’s cause… and Thanos who wished to possess the Tesseract for his own monstrous ends. One did not bargain lightly with Thanos—and one certainly did not fail to meet the terms of such a bargain.

Love how this book just repeatedly glosses over the obvious fact that Loki was tortured. In the first chapter, it makes zero mention of his stumbling or other signs of being weakened. Here, it completely omits the pain WE ALL SAW The Other inflict on him. Fuck this narrator, seriously.

Steve had a moment to look around. The commanding officer appeared to be a woman with short dark hair reeling off orders from near the center of the bridge. “S.H.I.E.L.D. Emergency Protocol 193.6 in effect,” she was saying after a series of status orders and acknowledgments. Steve didn’t know what protocol that was. At the moment, all he knew was that he was on a flying aircraft carrier… and wasn’t that enough? Amazing.

[....]

The Helicarrier disappeared from view. From the inside, it didn’t look any different, but Steve saw monitors from satellite feeds, and on those, the Helicarrier had simply become invisible. He corrected himself: He wasn’t just on a flying aircraft carrier. He was on an invisible flying aircraft carrier. The future was pretty… cool, was the word everyone used now.

I'm not the biggest Steve fan, but I will admit to finding his childlike awe over the Helicarrier slightly adorable. Lol

Side note: is someone on this thing coordinating with Air Traffic Control? I... really hope so.

“What did it show you, Agent Barton?”

Barton turned to look at Loki. “My next target,” he said.

Loki nodded. “Tell me what you need.”

Barton took one his bows out of a case and snapped it into shape with a flick of his arm. “I need a distraction,” he said. “And a biometric ID.”

Why the change from "eyeball", I wonder? Seems random. Lol

Inside, Loki had been mingling with the crowd, taking on the appearance of an ordinary man with a walking stick. But as the president of the museum, one Doktor Heinrich Schäfer, began his welcoming speech, Loki decided it was time to make a dramatic entrance. He tapped the walking stick on the floor and it became his scepter. Immediately, to get the crowd’s attention, he aimed it at the nearest museum security guard and fired.

This... didn't happen?? At all??

Loki strode the rest of the way down the stairs and manhandled Schäfer over to a stone altar that was one of the museum’s prized ancient Norse relics. He slammed Schäfer onto his back, forcing a machine over his face. Schäfer cried out in pain and surprise as the machine shone blinding light into his face, holding his eyes open.

On the one hand, confirmation that Loki did not actually shred this dude's eye and he's probably fine. On the other hand, the author completely made up what just happened literally two sentences ago, so their credibility is a little suspect at the moment. Lol

A police car, alerted by the commotion, raced toward him. He blasted it with his scepter, and it spun out of control and crashed.

ACAB!

The crowd froze. Slowly the crowd knelt, and Loki reveled in their submission. “There,” he said. “Is this not simpler? Is this not your natural state? It’s the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.”

He's talking about himself here. We all get that, right?

An old man in the middle of the crowd stood. Loki paused in his speech to regard this individual. Around him, all the copies of himself also looked at this old man.

“Not to men like you,” the old man said.

“There are no men like me,” Loki said.

No lies detected.

But Loki was tougher than he looked. He struck back with the scepter, forcing Captain America to parry until Loki found an opening and slammed the butt of the scepter into Captain America’s midsection, knocking him down. Captain America threw the shield again, but this time Loki was ready. He knocked it aside. It fell ringing to the stones of the plaza, and Loki had the tip of the scepter against the back of Captain America’s neck before the soldier could get back to his feet.

Correction: If he'd actually been trying to win, he would have used the tip. (Narrator: he was not trying to win).

A sudden storm rose around the Quinjet. Natasha looked at the instrument panel. There’d been no warning of heavy weather. “Where’s this coming from?” she wondered out loud.

At first, she thought that Loki was responsible. But that didn’t appear to be the case. He looked more nervous than anyone else on the jet.

Loki has Thor-induced PTSD. Understandable, tbh.

Thor let Loki fall well before they got to the ground.

Because Thor is an asshole.

So hey, as long as we're here, let's review how each member of Loki's family responds to the realisation that he's survived his suicide attempt.

Thor- manhandles him, angrily demands to know where the Tesseract is

Odin- refuses to even use his name, implies he should have either slaughtered him as an infant or left him to die

Frigga- tells him not to make things worse (fucking rich coming from the woman who exacerbated his trauma immeasurably by thrusting the throne upon him when he was at his most vulnerable)

Wild, man. I wonder why Loki's convinced his family doesn't give a shit about him. They seem like such loving people to me.

“I remember a shadow,” Loki said bitterly. “Living in the shade of your greatness. I remember you tossing me into an abyss. I who was and should be king!”

Because you would have destroyed Asgard, Thor thought. Just to impress our father, you would have annihilated all the Nine Realms. “So you took the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights? No. The Earth is under my protection, Loki.”

1) Actually, he was trying to save Asgard... from a war that YOU started, numbnuts. He went about it all wrong because he was having a fucking mental breakdown, but at no stage did he even really endanger Asgard, let alone come close to destroying it.

2) Um, what? Where the fuck in Loki's plan was annihilating anything other than Jötunheim? I see Thor shares his friends' impressive conclusion-jumping skills. Not surprising.

3) Thor, I mean this truly and without reservation: go fuck yourself.

Loki chuckled. “And you’re doing a marvelous job with that. The humans slaughter each other in droves while you idly fret. I mean to rule them, and why should I not?”

He... has a point.

“You think yourself above them?”

“Well, yes.”

At least Loki is honest about his condescension, Thor. You should try it sometime.

Suddenly furious, Loki raged at Thor. “I’ve seen worlds you’ve never known about! I have grown, Odinson, in my exile. I have seen the true power of the Tesseract, and when I wield it—”

“Who showed you this power?” Thor interrupted. “Who controls the would-be king?”

And he will never bring this up again. Ever.

Stepping right up to his brother, Thor shouted back. “Not here! You give up the Tesseract! You give up this poisonous dream!” Then he softened. “You come home.”

“I don’t have it,” Loki said. Furious, Thor brought Mjolnir to his hand, ready for battle.

Thor's sort of a one-solution kind of guy, huh? Somebody help me out here, because he's "changed" but his first instinct when he's not getting his way is still to react with intimidation and violence. Funny how that works.

Tony braked and skidded to a halt as the Asgardian rolled away from him, tearing up trees and brush as he went. He got to his feet and extended a warning hand. “Do not touch me again,” he said.

Oh, what's the matter, Thor? Do you not like being manhandled? That's weird because you sure do seem to enjoy doing the manhandling. 😕

“If he gives up the cube, he’s all yours. Until then…” Tony’s faceplate clamped back down. “Stay out of the way.”

He turned to walk back to a place where he could make a clean takeoff. “Tourist,” he muttered.

That was the last straw, apparently, because the next thing Tony knew, the Asgardian’s hammer had hit him about as hard as he’d ever been hit in his life. The force of the blow carried him through the trunk of a tree and laid him out flat in the dirt.

Please note that Thor was not being attacked. He once again used offensive violence against someone who hurt his feelbads. "Changed", my rear.

“Then prove it,” Cap said. “Put that hammer down.”

“Uh, no, bad call,” Iron Man said. “He loves his hammer—”

The Asgardian interrupted Tony by smashing him out of the way with a backhand swing. “You want me to put the hammer down?” he roared, and leaped high into the air, bringing his hammer down toward Captain America.

And again—not in any immediate danger, simply reacting with violence to something that made him angry.

“Oh, I’ve heard. A mindless beast. Makes play he’s still a man. How desperate are you, that you call on such lost creatures to defend you?”

“How desperate am I?” Fury echoed. He walked slowly over the catwalk to stand in front of Loki. “You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can’t hope to control. You talk about peace, but you kill because it’s fun. You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did.”

This is called 'projection', kids. Projection, and making up stories about your enemies so they're easier to hate. Fury needs to show his work.

Loki knew he had been heard throughout the ship. He could hear the echoes of the speakers, and even if he had not, he always knew when people were listening to him. That was part of his power, to make them listen… and to make each of them hear something just a little different. Just what he wanted them to hear.

This doesn’t mean anything, does it??

Perhaps he was in a cage right now, but he had been in cages before. Not once had one been able to hold him for long.

This... has to be a reference to his time with the Black Order, right? There's certainly no basis for such a statement pre-2011.

Or the author is just on crack. That's very possible.

Thor took a step toward Bruce. “Have a care how you speak,” he warned. “Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard… and he is my brother.”

“He killed eighty people in two days,” Natasha pointed out.

Citation needed, please.

“Well, I promise a stress-free environment. No tension, no surprises…” As he spoke, Tony walked behind Bruce and gave him a little zap with an electrical instrument.

“Ow!” Bruce said.

Tony looked closely at him. “Nothing?” He’d been testing Bruce to see how well he controlled the Hulk. The little shock hadn’t provoked any kind of unusual reaction, which Tony seemed to find a little disappointing.

Ok, but what exactly was Tony's plan if Bruce had Hulked out here? lmao

“Steve,” Bruce said, “tell me none of this smells a little funky to you.”

Cap looked back and forth between the two scientists. Bruce could tell he was struggling with something… but he also wasn’t going to share it. He was too much of a good soldier for that.

🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

“Yeah. I’ll read all about it.”

“Or you’ll be suiting up with the rest of us.”

Bruce shook his head with a regretful smile. “No, see, I don’t get a suit of armor. I’m exposed. Like a nerve. It’s a nightmare.”

Bruce has BPD. Lol

No, you guys don't understand. That's literally what it feels like.

Thor watched over Coulson’s shoulder as the agent showed him S.H.I.E.L.D.’s current files on Jane Foster. When he had learned that Loki had captured Erik Selvig, his first thought had been of Jane. Thor had destroyed the Bifrost to save the Nine Realms, but he had also cut himself off from her… or so he had thought. It was a terrible decision to make, sacrificing love for duty—yet Thor had done it. If necessary, he would do it again. He hoped it would not be necessary, though, and that was one reason why he had asked Coulson about Jane.

Oh my god, Thor. You spent like, three days with her, max. And people call Loki the dramatic one...

Thor looked out into the sky, gathering his thoughts. “When I first came to Earth,” he went on, “Loki’s rage followed me here, and your people paid the price. Now, again. In my youth, I courted war.”

“War hasn’t started yet,” Fury said.

1) Correction: when your daddy threw you to Earth like a sack of trash down a cosmic garbage chute. You were not here on vacation, bro.

2) No, Loki's rage followed your treasonous friends.

3) LAST YEAR. YOUR 'YOUTH' WAS LAST YEAR.

4) *committed mass murder over an insult

“You think you could make Loki tell us where the Tesseract is?”

This possibility hadn’t occurred to Thor. “I do not know,” he said. “Loki’s mind is far afield. It’s not just power he craves. It’s vengeance, upon me. There’s no pain that would pry that need from him.”

1) Opposing Thor = being crazy. Noted.

2) Not everything is about you, buddy. At the risk of repeating myself, this is the guy I'm supposed to believe learned humility? Really? Where?

3) Please note that Thor does not object to torturing Loki because it's immoral or because the thought of hurting Loki pains him. He objects because he doesn't believe it will work.

Thor held Fury’s gaze. It was not the first time he had looked at a one-eyed man who posed him a difficult question. “What are you asking me to do?” he asked, wanting Fury to be clear and to own his words.

“I’m asking what you are prepared to do,” Fury said quietly.

“Loki is a prisoner,” Thor said. He thought Fury was testing him, seeing if he would violate his ideals to find out something they all needed to know. But Thor would not.

"I'm okay with physically assaulting prisoners if they make me mad, but I suddenly draw the line at torture. Even though my 'ideals' didn't appear to be a concern two sentences ago."

If I feel like being generous to Thor, maybe he initially hoped Fury would back off if he just said torture wouldn't work, and then Thor wouldn't have to risk appearing... soft? Weak? I don't know.

“But you figured I’d come,” she said.

“After,” Loki said. “After whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend, as a balm. And I would cooperate.” It was a typical approach. Cause misery, and then let someone appear as a friendly face. The miserable person would say anything to keep this friend. Loki had seen strong men break this way, many times.

I'm not sure why the author felt the need to depersonalize this by talking about other men. Loki knows this experience intimately. It's what he's endured his entire life at the hands of his "loving" family. The torture just wasn't physical then as far as we know.

An interesting story, Loki thought. She has much to atone for. He could hear some of her memories, from before her first encounter with Barton. Little girl, he thought, you’ve done some very bad things. And now you think you owe Clint Barton your life… but there is more to it. Loki could tell there was something in her mind that he was not quite uncovering. He pushed a little more.

Is... is this text implying that Loki can read people's minds/memories even without touching them?

“Can you?” he asked. “Can you wipe out that much red?” He listed for her some of the things he knew she had done. “Dreykov’s daughter… São Paulo… the hospital fire? Barton told me everything.” This was a lie. Barton had told Loki certain things about Romanoff, but he was also guessing some others.

He... guessed the details of these very specific incidents? What? lmao

He pushed ahead. Now that he understood her, he could break her. “Your ledger is dripping, it’s gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? Pathetic. You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors, but they are part of you and they will never go away.”

He's talking about himself again. 🥺

For some reason, this book skips right over the part where Loki threatens both Barton's and Natasha's lives. Not sure why; the author clearly has no problem depicting Loki as an unhinged psychopath most of the time. Oh well, whatevs.

Loki couldn’t understand how she had gathered her composure so quickly—and then he did understand. She was a superb actress! Or not even an actress, for he could see through a conscious performance. She was something else. She had been broken down and remade so many times, with so many identities, that she could put them on and take them off at will. And Loki had gotten lost in those emotional costume changes.

He had been outwitted by a mortal. Unthinkable.

Yeah, phew, it's a good thing Natasha figured it out in time. Otherwise, something terrible might have happened—like Bruce Hulking out and rampaging through the Helicarrier. Oh, wait...

“I was wrong, Director,” Cap said. “The world hasn’t changed a bit.” He looked angry and disappointed. Captain America was a big believer in shooting straight and telling the truth. He didn’t like spies and he didn’t like lies, and now he saw he was knee-deep in both.

This novel's hero worship of Steve Rogers is going to kill me. 🙄

“I’d like to know why S.H.I.E.L.D. is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction,” Bruce finished.

“Because of him,” Fury said, pointing at Thor.

“Me?”

“Last year, Earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town,” Fury said. “We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, outgunned.”

Has anyone figured out yet how this line doesn't conflict with Captain Marvel? Is Fury lying to hide her existence for some reason? Or is this just one of those things that we're supposed to shrug and pretend wasn't retconned?

“A nuclear deterrent,” Tony said. “Because that always calms everything right down.”

“Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark,” Fury said coldly.

On the one hand, yes, good point. But on the other hand, he... stopped making them? So clearly, he no longer thinks they are a good thing?

And also, not to gloss over his past sins, but wasn't Tony born rich? Lol

“I thought humans were more evolved than this,” Thor commented.

Tony turned on Thor. “Excuse me, did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?”

Didn't Fury say this in the movie? Why did the author give the line to Tony instead? There are all these... weird changes in the story that are so minor I have no idea why the author made them. Very confusing.

Just like that, all of them were arguing. Cap and Tony were nose to nose, while Bruce and Natasha fired remarks back and forth. Thor stood off to the side, contempt plain on his face.

'Cause he also thinks he's superior to humans. 🙃

Tony and Cap squared off over an argument that they couldn’t even remember starting. Tony was still mad about the last thing Cap had said to him… whatever it was.

In case there was any doubt about the sceptre being the reason everyone starts losing their shit with one another.

Cap stood his ground. “Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?”

Tony had an answer ready for this one. “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

Hey Steve? You know he invented the suit, right? Like. The suit is literally him.

“Put on the suit,” Cap said. “Let’s go a few rounds.”

Steve putting out big Joe Biden, "listen, fat..." energy here lmao

Thor laughed. “You people are so petty… and tiny.”

Thor, my dude. You literally started a war over being emasculated in front of your friends. I don't think you get to judge other people for being petty.

Fury could see things were spiraling out of control. He started trying to get them all back on track. “Agent Romanoff,” he said, “would you escort Dr. Banner back to—”

“Where?” Bruce interrupted. “My room? You rented my room.”

Nobody had said it out loud, but they all knew the cell currently holding Loki was designed for the Hulk.

What was their plan for containing the Hulk if necessary after sticking Loki in his cage, anyway? Did they even have one?

“Dr. Banner,” Cap said. “Put down the scepter.”

Bruce looked down. He hadn’t even known he’d picked it up.

Why does that sound familiar...?

Even though he could see what was going on, the hostility in the air was still thick enough that Bruce didn’t know whether he could back everyone down… or whether he could back himself down. He could feel tension rising inside him. He could feel the monster trying to get loose.

And yet none of them so much as considers the idea that the sceptre might be having a similar effect on Loki? Ok then.

But even though he was now refocused on the mission, the others still bickered. Loki had gotten into their heads, sowing discord and setting them against each other.

lmao I'd just like to note that Loki didn't actually do anything. This was all them and the effects of just being near the sceptre. #ThanksLoki

“The Tesseract belongs to Asgard,” Thor said.

Why, though?

“I’ll go after it,” Tony said.

“No you don’t,” Cap said, stepping into his way. He wasn’t ready to forget the way Tony had insulted him.

Ok, first of all, you started it. But also, seriously, Steve, that's your number one priority right now? Earth's mightiest heroes, ladies and gentlemen... lol

I have apparently managed to hit the paragraph limit, so we'll return after this short break, I guess. 🙈

↪️ On to Part Two

[lstories]

Noah's perspective: Life Under The Sea

4 story's in the works and 2 more I'm still drafting and I decided I'll make a new story and complete it first. I love mer story's and mer vore story's so I wanted to try one were the mer is the tiny. I Read a story a while back that I heavily baced this one off of but couldn't find it again, if anyone knows it could you tell me so I could link it.

(Safe, soft, vore, willing prey, semi willing pred, cursing, tw blood, tw alcohol, tw panic attacks. Sounds worse than it is)

Word Count: 4,589

"This is going to sting a little"

"GAAH! That was more than a sting and you know it"

"There is only four more shots to go, your doing great"

"ONLY!"

Noah was freaking out, one of his biggest fears was the ocean and he was being sent down to the depths on an exploratory mission to see what was taking out all the drones and to set the first colony underwater. He was a military jet pilot, this was the last thing he should be doing, even for disciplinary actions. They call it a joy ride for a reason and he wasn't the only person involved so why was he the only one being punished this harshly. He looked out the window and saw the waves, no land in sight. Noah felt like he was going to vomit.

"Why do I need shots anyway, I'm going to the depth of the corAL FOREST! GAH! Give me a warning! FUCK THAT HURTS!

"It only hurts beacuse you're tense, just relax"

"Relax! I-I can't just... it's not that simple!"

"Here, just breathe, listen to the waves"

He did as the nurse said, he listened to the waves crash against the ship. Could he feel the ship rocking faster? Were the waves getting louder? A sharp pain in his back brought him back to reality.

"JESUS! That doesn't help at all"

"Just find something that makes you calm cause I'm getting tired of trying to be a good nurse"

"Just tell me about the shots, what are they supposed to do while I'm down there. J- AAHH! FUCK"

"God your a wimp. (sigh) The extreme pressure underneath will be extremely pressing and will collapse your body without proper training. As a pilot your training should help you stay underwater for an extended period of time, even if your outside your suit for whatever reason. There will still be things we or you cant control without these injections though. The extreme pressure will aid in the genesis process we are subjecting you to and will allow you to stay underwater for an extended period of time without injury and could potentially increase life expectancy, muscle and tissue generation, mussels and tissue durability and flexibility, sight, hearing, touch, taste, smell and a decrease in hunger and digestive abilities allowing you to go days with a full stomach from food you ate last week. If you decide to continue past your one year stay the effects would only continue to be enhanced without further genetic engineering. If and most likely when you come back up, you would have muscle and bone density strong enough to move a car and barely break a sweat. Please look over to the cat poster"

"What caAA-... helped a bit, your talking helped a bit"

"You're all set, please leave and put on the wet suit then go to the drop pod."

"Ya, thanks for the-"

"Leave"

"Yep"

Noah walked down the corridors of the ship, passing closed doors and soldiers in military uniforms. Eventually he came by his room and walked in. He didn't have much in his room but then again he was only staying on the ship for one night before he would be sent down into the ocean. He looked out the window and it finally dawned on him that this was the last time he was going to be above water for possibly over a year. His mind started to race as his breath quickened, he wasn't ready for this. He walked further into his room and steadied himself on the table, his breathing started to get shakey as he vividly thought about every tiny thing that could go horribly wrong. The windows in the ship could shatter, or they might land unevenly and get stuck in the drop pod. He glanced to the mini fridge and stumbled over to it, catching himself and forcing himself not to curl up on the ground. He opened the small fridge, he felt the wave of cool air wash over him, he realized how much sweat was pouring off him before he reached into the back, pulling out a beer from a six pack, it was the last one. He idly flicked the cap with the nail of his thumb as sat down on his bed and closed his eyes, he hasn't had a drink in over a decade but the minor actions calmed him anyway. His nail was already going white with scratch marks and the tip of his thumb started bleading as the cap started to tear away at the scab that formed from the past few days of him doing this. He slowly opened his eyes, his hands were shaking and blood was spilling down his wrist and the neck of the bottle. He got up and threw the whole bottle away, he walked into the bathroom and bent over the sink, just trying to hold himself up.

Noah held the hand that was bleading to steady it and washed it off, he fumbled around the cabinet above the sink for something. Noah had no idea what he was looking for, there was this awful noise in his ears and he couldn't focus. He shook his head to clear the voice before auctly paying attention to what he was looking for. He grabbed the gauze and small tube of neosporin and stared applying it to his thumb. After a few seconds of calming himself down he looked in the mirror, right over his shoulder and to the garbage can. They weren't allowing anyone with anything above a 0.0 BAC underwater so that was a good thing, or a horrible thing depending on how you looked at it. Noah wished he could break his promise and grab that beer out of the trash, but he couldn't, he wouldn't break his promise, no matter how much he didn't want to go. Noah sat there for a few minutes, he didn't think, he didn't talk, he just stared at himself. His golden blond hair was a scraggly, matted mess from all his sweat and he was starting to grow a thin stubble of a beard that was just as golden as his hair. Unfortunately for him they didn't allow razors or any sort of non military accepted knife on the ship either. His eyes didn't help his look, a deep and uncanny looking brown was where his iris should be. Not a normal or pretty brown, not even ugly brown but something that looked like every color mixed together improperly somehow. He took one last look over himself before speaking. "What would she think of you now" he shallowly laughed at himself before returning to his bed.

On the pillow was a small case about the size of his palm. He opened it and pulled put a small black roll that he looked over for a few seconds. They said it would be on his bed when he returned but this couldn't be it, could it? He ran his non bleading thumb over it until his nail caught something. He pinched the small little clip and let it unfurl, it just kept rolling and rolling, eventually it split off into three different rolls and the middle one split again into two more. Eventually it stoped, it was deffenetly a suit but it was way to thin, he gently rubbed part of it between his fingers and it gave way much more easily than he thought it would. It started to fill with air and expand horizontally as it stretched to his proportions. It was a thin black suit with orange around the wrists and face. He slipped into it, taking much longer than it should of before he took of. He ran down the hallway, he was deffenetly late as he passed more and more empty room's. He wanted to hide, he wanted to run back to his room and sleep it away but it was either this or he was fired.

He turned a corner and almost ran into the general, immediately turning and running into the small line of people and found a spot. A scientist walked over and handed him a glass plate and some gloves. Noah immediately put the gloves on and held the glass plate under his arm like everyone else. The colonel stated to talk and Noah immediately started to drift off, he didn't care what he was saying and he'd let his subconscious remember everything for him. Somthing about new technologies, making a new world under the old, and unknown life forms. Eventually everyone put on there masks and Noah followed suit, putting it on. The orange--- whatever the suit was made out of extended and gripped the small glass plate and stuck it to his face. After a while and more nonsense talking a few people were taken away by the scientists. After a bit of silence everyone was guided onto the drop pod, luckily it didn't have any windows and Noah felt a bit happier about that.

There was about eight people left overall, some crying, some talking to others and some sleeping like Noah. After a bit (and a quick nap) a bunch of metal clanks were heard above them as everything became a little lighter. It took over four hours to finally hit the bottem, small bumps of flesh on metal and loud echoing scratches were occasionally heard on the way down. Almost everyone was silent for the entire trip, everyone was on high alert the entire way down. When everyone got up and started to bustle around to grab supplies, Noah still sat in some form of shock. He eventually got up, and walked to the wall, a small black pack with his name and the word scavenger printed underneath. "Great, just great" he said as he walked to the pressure chamber and let the water start flowing in around him. His mind immediately betrayed him, his suit could be flawed and he'd drown, his training might not come in handy and he would be crushed, or there could be a monster outside that was already killing the rest of his team. He could feel a dribble of sweat rundown his face as the door opened.

He slightly walked/stumbled outside once the door was open. It was a sight to behold, people were already setting up futuristic buildings with a small handheld printers, others were already picking up scrap metal and other things then scanning them with some type of other small gun and they disappeared into nothingness. Noah took a step forward, he wasn't ready for a small bounce when he set his foot back down. He slightly swayed his arms and swam a bit. He slowly fell back to the ground and laughed a bit, maybe this wouldn't be so bad. He looked over to someone on top of the drop pod attaching lights to the top, as one turned on he saw a group of three people holding futuristic rifles and shoulder mounted plasma cannons. Past them was the coral forest, deep blue coral taller than some trees on the surface were growing strait from the ground and if Noah wasn't mistaken, the glowing rainbow swirling up the coral was algae. He took his focus off them and reached into his pack, it almost seamed like it fused with his suit. He grabbed a small device from the pack and studied it for a while. It looked like half of a gun, something he should combine with something else. Looking back the saw the people talking the scrap also had the same gun, he put two and two together and started looking for something to use it on. Eventually he found a small piece of a ship wreck and scanned it, the light shining over the piece of orange metal was intriguing to Noah and he watched the small piece of metal disappear into a small stream of bubbles. He watched the bubbles rise and rise... and rise. His breath started to quicken as he remembered he was underwater. He fell to a knee and clutched his sides, he could feel his heart beating against his ribs. This was going to be a long year.

Time skip: 1 Month Later

Noah was starting to get used to the ocean. His panic attacks had almost come to a complete halt as he stopped thinking about where he was. If he didn't move his limbs to fast he could almost picture it as a different planet, say for the lack of stars in the pitch black sky. Everyone started to make there own houses and buildings, the infrastructure of a city was already starting to appear. There has only been one known casualty, a man was on a scavenging run and fell into a magma chamber. The suits were designed to be able to take the heat of magma and it did, the suit was undamaged. Unfortunately that guy didn't like to wear gloves and the heat spread threw his hands to the rest of his body like a conductor. The exploration team that went into the corral forest also never came back and were presumed MIA and no more manned explorations were allowed into the forest. Noah was now the only scavenger left as his team all started to do what they were higherd to do, and his team needed supply's. Luckily their radars found an old German U boat that he could scavenge, unluckily it was on the edge of the corral forest and a two day's trip to get there.

Noah set out, his pack still had some rations and regular food after all this time. He didn't think that this food would last him a month let alone a year but he barely had to eat anything. He was running on an empty stomach for the past few days and he wasn't hungry at all. He walked along the edge of the coral forest, the higher ups didn't want anyone going in or over the forest, and Noah didn't want to go threw it either. He had to admit though that it was beautiful, large deep blue trees with a rainbow algae spiraling up the trees and over the branches. He kept walking, a few sharks and other aquatic species that he he didn't recognize tried to bite at him. The suit was a perfect defense against what seemed to be everything in the ocean as nothing could penetrate it. Soon Noah was getting tired, he tried to think of a place to sleep, the algae on the trees was soft and he could pull some sand over him to keep the currents from blowing him away. He walked a little bit further along the edge of the forest while trying to find an overly fluffy tree to sleep on. He's been seeing a commotion every so often in the distance, but he wasn't expecting to have something long and blue to come flying out of the forest and under his arm with a shark following suit.

The shark bit at Noah's arm, the small blue fish pressing itself tighter against his Noah's side. Noah tried to fight off the shark, eventually pushing it away and punching it in the nose. The shark swam off into the black of the ocean, the small blue creature still trembling under his arm. He reached under his arm to shoo away whatever was there, the small creature darted under his other arm. He finally got a look at the size, it had to be at least half his arm span. He raised both of his arms and the small creature darted around his body, eventually curling itself around his neck. For a second Noah thought he was going insane, were those tiny hands on the back of his neck? He tried gently shooing the thing away from his neck, it wasn't pressing down hard enough to choke him but it wasn't something he was too comfortable with having. Eventually it got the memo and started unfurling itself from his neck and gently swam up to his face. It couldn't be, a tiny peron was floating in front of him. Light blue almost glowing hair and a slightly blue tinted body, it looked like it had scales at its waist. He followed it down and saw what looked like an eel tail, slowly retreating from Noah's neck.

The little person approached his face plate and pressed his hands on it, Noah only gave a confused look in response. He had to be dreaming, this couldn't be real, could it? The eel slowly backed away from him and full force rammed the face plate with its shoulder. Noah slightly jumped at what it was doing and gently grabbed the eel. It slightly wriggled in his grasp as before Noah tried to speak to it "what do you think your doing, your going to break your arm" the small eel looked up at him dumbfounded. After a bit of silence the eel finally responded with a few clicks and chirps while rubbing its arm. Noah was confused to say the least, he let the tiny go and held out his palm for it to sit in, instead it wrapped itself around his wrist and squished its hands into the orange fabric next to the gloves. Noah lightly chuckled to himself "all right, you can sleep there for the night" he walked over to the nearest tree and laid down on it. He silently scooped some sand onto himself with his free hand, the tiny looked up at him confused. Noah gently ran a finger down the tinyes back "your freezing" he whispered as he held the tiny eel person to stomach. After a bit the Noah started to drift off, the eel was not having that, it got up and started pulling on Noah's finger.

Noah opened his eyes back up to see the tiny struggling with all it's might to bring Noah somewhere. Noah reluctantly got up and followed the tiny, the glowing hair keeping it in sight at all times. It darted around the darkness of the ocean and back to Noah to make sure he was following. Noah kept at a steady pace to keep up with the tiny. He almost wanted to lay on the ground and sleep there. Eventually they reached a cliff face, the tiny followed along the edge of the wall. Noah looked back, the forest wasn't very far away and he never knew this cliff face was here. The small eel zig zaged across the bottem of the cliff face, Noah kept up with the tiny, confused and tired the entire time. Soon the glowing hair disappeared under the ground, Noah freaked out and ran over to where the tiny disappeared and bent down ready to start digging at the ground. He reached his hands down too fast and his whole body fallowed into a hole. It didn't take him long for his back to hit the side of a slope and for him to see a bit of orange light illuminating a tunnel in front of him. The tiny eel swam up to him and pressed itself against his faceplate, Noah immediately grabbed the tiny by its waist. It pushed against his fingers and chirped at him angrily but he wasn't going to let it go, not if it was going to scare him like that again. He shuffled forward threw the tunnel, he had to hunch his back to get threw it.

Soon the tunnel opened up into a cave, it went down a bit but it was almost a perfect sphere. There were small metal bolts and bottle caps on the walls and other miscellaneous items strewn about. He finally let the tiny go and it shoved itself threw a long PVC pipe with an angel connector at the top. A bit of its tail was hanging out the bottom as it rested its head on its arms. There was a slight suction near his foot and a light feeling of flowing water over his back. Noah looked up to see the source of the light, there was a hole with an edge to the water above him. He stood up and looked around for a bit, the cave extended out even further, it was huge. He lifted his arms out of the water and pulled himself up out of the hole with more ease than he should have been able to. The top of the ceiling had a glowing orange moss and neer the hole he came out of was a small water fall that had some warm water flowing into the small underwater cave. The walls had a green moss that was fluffy to the touch and the ground was smoothed over and barely damp. A small splash and some angry chirping grabbed his attention. The tiny was trying to reach for his heel and chirping the entire time. Noah reached his hand into the water, slightly swishing his fingers next to the tiny. The tiny immediately coiled itself around his wrist and rested it's back on his palm.

Noah scooted over over to one of the walls, he saw the tiny breathing, its chest was moving quickly as it just stared up at him. Noah took his mask off and took in a deep breath, before pulling the small hood off his head. It almost smelled like mint in the cave, what was this stuff. The tiny on his hand started chirping instantly, Noah looked down as it made grabby hands at his face. Noah brought the tiny closer to his face and it immediately pressed its hands into his cheeks. It ran it's hands over his lips before trying to part them. Noah took the tiny away from his mouth once it put a hand on his teeth, it looked confused before it started chirping again. It looked sad that it wasn't able to look into Noah's mouth. He moved it back into the water, it tried climbing back up his arm before slipping. Noah immediately reached under the tiny to catch it. The tiny layed down for a few seconds before scrambling over and hugging Noah's thumb. Noah brought it higher into the air, the tinyes tail was dangling from between his pointer and middle finger. It looked down at the ground a little frightened before looking back up to Noah with the same waiting look.

Noah slowly dipped the eel part back into the water, the tiny quickly wrapped itself around his fingers in response. Noah held it back in the air, he was staring to get tired of its antics. He staired at the tiny in his hands with a disappointed look on his face, as he got a better look at the small person he realized it looked younger than he'd orginally thought, almost like a young teenager. Looking closer at its facial structure he could almost be certain it was male. As he looked over it, he saw it's small eyes were almost as blue as its hair and he realized it was crying. Why would it be crying, he hadn't hurt it had he? Noah looked it over, there were no bruises or scratches he could see so why was it crying. It started making the grabby hands back at Noah's face, he reluctantly brought it closer to his eyes. It started him in the eyes for a few seconds before it scooted closer to the edge of his hand. It tried reaching for his lips again, Noah thought about it. It really wanted to be eaten, the doctor said that it takes longer to digest food so maybe it would be safe. Noah's eyes were getting heavy, he needed to sleep. As he thought harder on it he realized it was either this or probably more angry chirping for the rest of the night. He saw the tears on the tiny practically disappear when he brought it closer to his mouth.

He thought he could hear a choked sob when he opened his mouth, the tiny practically jumped for it. He extended his tounge over his teath so it wouldn't get hurt. Tiny hands tried to grip the edges of his toung and pull it forward. Noah thought it almost tasted like berries, sure there was the salt of the ocean but he didn't expect to taste berries. The tiny tried to force itself down his throat, Noah almost gagged at the feeling and slightly dragged the tiny back over his tounge. The tiny started to tremble in his hands and on his tongue, the salty flavor was getting more prevalent. The tiny wrapped its arms around his tounge, quite chirping came from it. He could tell it was starting to cry again, this is what it really wanted wasn't it. He pressed the tiny up against the roof of his mouth and slightly tasted it, he hadn't had anything sweet in a month and this was probably going to be the best he would get for a while. The tiny dragged itself forward a bit more. Noah could feel the movement in his hands as the eel tail moved, he wasn't too excited about that part. The tiny moved closer to the back of this throat, Noah wanted to get that last bit of the sweet flavor before he gulped it down. The tiny was too far back in Noah's throat now, he instinctively swallowed when it pressed a hand into the back of his neck.

The berry taste was gone, it was just the salty sea water, luckily it didn't taste like fish. He lightly pressed a finger to his neck, the small wriggling bump slowly glided down his neck and past his collarbone. He gulped again and again before lifting the edge of the tail to his eye level. The torso entered his stomach and it almost immediately started rubbing at his stomach walls. It felt nicer than he thought it would, was his stomach always this sensitive? More of the eel part slipped into his stomach and the tip of the tail entered his mouth. He gently scooped it up with his tongue before closing his mouth. He swallowed one last time and tilted his head back to let gravity do the rest of his work. He rested his head back into the moss and his hands protectively over his gut. He could still fell the cold of the tail slowly moving along the rest of his throat. His stomach was comfortably cold and he gently rubbed his hands over it. He looked down and- jeez his stomach was huge. Noah didn't know his stomach could fit this much of anything. It started to move as rubbed a little harder, the small coils pressing every nerve in his stomach as it slid around. Noah made a small groan, it didn't feel bad but he just wasn't ready for this much of stimulation. He could feel the tinyes form gently press itself into his hand and rub back. He could hear a few gentle clicks as he rested his head back into the moss and closed his eyes. The amount off stimulation in his stomach along with the feeling of being over full quickly drifted him back to drowsiness. One final thought left his mind as he fell asleep 'mabye it wouldn't be so bad to stay more than a year'.

[lillupon]

I have social anxiety, so I usually refrain from reaching out, but I love all your fics so much and AEV is my current obsession. I don't like reading WIP fics because I am an impatient person, but here we are. Anyway, chapter 8 *chef's kiss*! Imagining Mingyu's POV of the whole classroom interaction (sexy times) keeps me up at night. He must be so scared Mr. Jeon won't go through with it and when it does happen, I love that he keeps laughing like he just can't believe it. Thank you for this fic!

Hi Anon! I'm glad you reached out. Thanks for joining me here (つ≧▽≦)つ I love imagining AEV from Mingyu's POV--chapter 8 especially! He was truly in heaven that night.

At the beginning of the chapter, during winter vacation, we see Wonwoo putting his utmost effort into tamping down his thoughts about Mingyu. Mingyu, however, has no such qualms. After he gives Mr. Jeon his gift, that boy is floating for the next two weeks straight. The astonishment on Mr. Jeon's face when he flipped open the giftbox lid? The way Mr. Jeon's entire body went soft with emotion? The smile curving his lips when he looked up at Mingyu and said, "I love it."

It made Mingyu feel like he was the only alpha in the world.

It gets Mingyu grinning every time he imagines it. And he imagines it a lot. He wishes Mr. Jeon weren't on blockers, so that he could smell the shy and pleased scent of him. At some point, Chaeyoung asks, "What's wrong with your face?" She squints at him. A slow realisation dawns on her face. "Oh. You have a new omega, don't you?"

It's the first time in Mingyu's life that he wants winter break to be over quickly. That first day back, Mingyu feels like a puppy who had been separated from its owner for fourteen days too many. He missed Mr. Jeon so much. When Mr. Jeon asks him why he's glad to be back, he almost bursts out with, "I wanted to see you."

Fast-forwarding now to that fateful Friday night:

Mingyu loves spending time with Mr. Jeon after school, just the two of them. Rationally, he knows nothing will happen between them, but he finds it thrilling all the same because the possibility is there.

Then again, he never thought Mr. Jeon would go into heat in front of him, so maybe he is a little hopeful...

Mingyu gets bolder when they're alone. The way Mr. Jeon gets flustered--stammering and blushing to the tips of his ears--when Mingyu flirts with him is so cute. He kind of wants to say 'fuck it' to the homework and spend the next two hours flirting with Mr. Jeon and seeing how red he can get. He doesn't even really have homework. He's caught up in all his classes; he just wants an excuse to be around Mr. Jeon.

Mingyu bites back a coo when Mr. Jeon stares down at a stack of quizzes with a certain determination. Mr. Jeon has put a hand on his forehead, as though shielding his face from Mingyu.

A handful of minutes later, Mr. Jeon peeks up at him, equal parts shy and apprehensive. Their eyes meet. A smile curves Mingyu's lips, growing into a grin when Mr. Jeon drops his gaze and a bloom of colour spreads across his cheeks. The alpha inside Mingyu goes wild. He needs to be close.

Mingyu stands and makes his way over to Mr. Jeon's desk with a textbook in hand and a math question on his mind. It doesn't escape his notice, the way Mr. Jeon tugs at his collar, trying to get some air to his heated skin.

That moment when Mingyu realises that Mr. Jeon is going into heat in front him?

Mingyu doesn't believe it at first. He thinks he's just smelling what he wants to smell. Mr. Jeon went into heat last month. It's too soon for another one.

But then Mr. Jeon's tempting and honey-sweet scent grows stronger and more seductive. Mingyu's body reacts to it immediately, flushing hot with arousal.

No way.

The first time Mr. Jeon went into heat in front of him could be attributed to bad luck.

A second time? And following in close succession to that first time?

He doesn't want to assume. But maybe, just maybe... He triggered Mr. Jeon's heats.

Which means, perhaps, that Mr. Jeon is attracted to him, too.

No fucking way.

Mr. Jeon sways, subconsciously drawn forward by his own heat and Mingyu's arousal, and then he yanks himself back. Tripping over his feet; over the chair--sending it rolling into the wall behind. Mingyu doesn't think: he just reacts, lunging forward to catch Mr. Jeon by the elbow. He twists to take the brunt of the fall.

They land in a heap on the floor, limbs entangled. Mingyu's head throbs where he hit his head against the linoleum. Black spots dance across his vision. He groans. "Fuck, that hurt. Are you okay Mr. Jeon?" It's instinct, to check on the omega he likes, before he catalogues his own pain.

That's when he realises that Mr. Jeon is lying stiff atop him, face smashed into Mingyu's neck. They are pressed together from chest to knees in a searing hot line. Their groins are rubbing against each other.

Mingyu smells it before he feels it: Mr. Jeon's growing arousal. Mr. Jeon's erection prods against him.

It gets Mingyu so hard, so fast.

Wonwoo's fingers twitch against his shirt.

"Mr. Jeon?" Mingyu breathes out, shakily. His heart pounds wildly against his ribs.

Mr. Jeon lets out the most piteous whimper Mingyu has ever heard. And then a bit of slick leaks out of his hole. Mingyu catches a whiff of it in the air and it sets his mouth watering.

Mingyu lost the chance to comfort Mr. Jeon when he entered heat back in December, but he sure as hell isn't going to let the opportunity slip by a second time.

He tightens his hold around Mr. Jeon's waist. Tentatively, he places both hands on Mr. Jeon's back. Waits a split-second so that he doesn't startle Mr. Jeon away. He has to act slowly and carefully; Mr. Jeon could bolt at any second.

"It's okay. It's okay..." Mingyu says quietly, pitching his voice low to soothe. I'm going to take care of you. He smooths his hands down Mr. Jeon's back, travelling lower and lower until his hands are gliding over Mr. Jeon's asscheeks. His thumbs skim over the middle seam of Mr. Jeon's trousers, following the crevice of his ass.

Mr. Jeon moans, hot and damp against Mingyu's skin. He spurts slick, just from having Mingyu's hands on him. Mingyu can feel Mr. Jeon's trousers getting wetter and wetter as he kneads his asscheeks. Sweet omega is preparing himself to take an alpha's cock. Mingyu can't resist rubbing the pad of his middle finger over Mr. Jeon's hole, pushing down as far as the fabric will allow him. He can feel it clenching and pulsing under his touch.

"Fuck, Mr. Jeon..." He muffles a groan into Mr. Jeon's hair.

When Mr. Jeon starts rocking his hips Mingyu's brain whites out. His teacher is grinding on him, taking his pleasure and making sweet little noises. It's surreal.

Their erections rub against each other, sending a jolt of pleasure through Mingyu's loins. The motion is hesitant at first. Mingyu holds Wonwoo by the ass and guides the movement, turning the stuttering rhythm into something forceful and desperate that has both of them groaning.

Mingyu digs his fingers into the crevice of Mr. Jeon's ass, forefinger finding his rosebud entrance. He thinks about sliding his hand beneath Mr. Jeon's belt and trousers. He wants to feel, skin-against-skin, how sloppy and heated Mr. Jeon's hole must be, if the amount of slick he is producing is anything to judge by. Just imagining dipping his finger inside to feel the hot and wet clutch of Mr. Jeon's inner walls has him groaning.

Mr. Jeon's cries grow higher in pitch. Mingyu didn't know he was capable of making noises like that, so used to the low and smooth tenor of his voice when he's lecturing in front of the classroom.

"Mingyu," Mr. Jeon chokes out. "Oh, god, I need, I need--" He cuts himself off abruptly.

Mingyu's voice is strained when he says, "What is it, Mr. Jeon? Tell me what you need."

Mr. Jeon shakes his head, his hair tickling Mingyu's chin. The grip he has on Mingyu's shirt tightens. Mingyu can detect the edge of frustration against his pleasure.

"It's okay, Mr. Jeon, you can tell me," Mingyu says.

“I-I can’t," Mr. Jeon strains out. Wetness smears against Mingyu's skin.

Tears?

Mingyu croons. He wants to know what it is that Mr. Jeon wants so much that he's crying with it. What could it be, that Mr. Jeon feels the need to hold back when they've already barreled headfirst beyond all semblance of decorum?

Mingyu suspects he might know. He gives Mr. Jeon a tiny nudge. His voice goes rough and low, drawn from a place deep within his chest; it vibrates with an alpha's command: "Tell me."

Mr. Jeon blurts out, “Fuck me, oh god, please, Mingyu. I need it. I need it—just the tip. Oh, just the tip. Please, please, please—”

Mingyu damn near comes in his pants. His hips jerk and he groans. “Oh, fuck, Mr. Jeon. You’re so fucking hot. Yeah, yeah. I’ll give it to you.”

He can't believe Mr. Jeon is begging for his cock. He's determined to fuck Mr. Jeon so good that he keeps coming back for more and more.

The entire scene feels like a dream, something straight out of his wildest fantasies. No--even his wildest fantasies could not compete with the sight of Mr. Jeon presenting for him: thighs quivering, his needy pink hole desperately clenching down on nothing, his pretty cock dangling heavy between his legs and drooling a clear line of precome onto the ground...

[bular]

Welcome to Live Commentary

I had no one to talk to while watching the movie and I hate being alone with my thoughts so I wrote everything down in my notes app. It's not coherent! Enjoy!

Aw yeah 1.5 seconds of Bular that is all I needed! Might as well stop now I've seen my boy I'm satisfied.

Why is there a nearly 4 minute recap as if I haven't watched the show at least 50 times. I should be the one giving the recap.

The beginning felt a bit forced to me but maybe that's just me? Like they just tried to squeeze too many things into a small timeframe without any buildup, it just didn't really work. Congrats on the engagement! This is my OTP so I'm very happy! But it came out of nowhere.

Nari in Douxies body is so wrong and I love it and hate it at the same time (positive)

Eli is BIG. I knew he was gonna be tall but I was not prepared for that chiseled face. Or the fact that he stepped off the ship without glasses? I wear glasses and I would not choose to step off a spaceship blind.

OkAY who had mpreg on their bingo card?

AAARRRGGHH actually said a full sentence 🥺 there is no heterosexual explanation for this scene and I'm here for it

Arcadia being the center of the universe really does make a lot of sense. I hate how much sense it makes. Despise it.

Strickler in a Christmas sweater is something i didn't know I needed. Jim's jacket too but that's just adorable, Jim's adorable. Oh sweet baby you're about to get fucked over so bad.

Love seeing Barbara actively participating in battle too. Good for her! Power family!!

Where are the kids tho? Is NotEnrique babysitting? Either that or they hired the girl from the Incredibles movie.

Nomura is so talented I love seeing her fighting on the good side. I can't explain it but I love digitigrade legs they're just so pretty?? Aesthetically pleasing??? Fuck yeah, legg! I could watch Nomura run around and be badass all day.

WAIT NO OH SHIT HOW DARE YOU FUCK

STRICKLER DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE NOT YOU TOO THAT'S TOO FUCKING RUDE DON'T DO THIS TO ME

THERE'S NO WAY HE'S DEAD RIGHT WE SAW NO BODY

Barbara does not deserve this I refuse to accept it. He's fine he'll be back they wouldn't kill two Changelings at once. Also Nomura is with Draal now I take no criticism.

So my favorite characters were Bular, Draal, Gunmar and Angor. And before this movie I always half-joked that everyone I love dies, how I still like Strickler and Nomura but apart from them all of my faves were killed in the very order of favoritism. AND NOW LOOK AT THIS. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I LOVE A CHARACTER. MY LOVE IS TOXIC.

OKAY I LOVE GUN RO- WAIT NO I DON'T LOVE HIM FUCK ABORT ABORT

It's great tho omg

I didn't realize it was Gun Robot when I saw it in the trailer this is amazing

Okay but imagine you're chilling in your trollmarket minding your own business when some misfit group of strangers waltzes in, steals your favorite shiny and celebrates your death before running off

"I AM GUN ROBOT" IS THE HORN LMAOOO

Nana better show up at some point to reunite with her boytoy, I'll cancel this entire franchise otherwise

Something bad is going to happen to Toby isn't it. He's getting too much screentime

Jim's hand got DEEP FRIED

ARCHIE NO

We can play Scrabble okay if they don't free them (which they must) I want an after credits scene of them playing scrabble

Douxie and Nari's bond 🥺🥺🥺

Nari pls just say what you fuckin mean the world is ending

Oh god is she going to remember killing Nomura oh nooo

Claire don't make the portal you will die again. Your hair gon be white all over

EVERYONE AVOIDING THE SCHOOL JUST RIGHT THERE LMAO RIP

I love how Darci is just with the school bus. Civilian girlfriend. But also love how the world is ending and Coach is like "fuck that I'm gonna teach these kids"

Does he know his son is pregnant

"Going back to the city where it's safe" buddy have you been to that city

Whatever happens, Nari has the coolest looking titan. Giant four legged gremlin. I'd adopt him.

WAIT SHE CAN FEEL THE PAIN?

Me: oh i love that titan

The titan 5 seconds later:

Did Nari just fucking die what the FUCK

Oh of COURSE the pages are stuck together RIGHT THERE

Seriously tho how do you not notice an entire nougat nummy in a book

Wait so Arcadia has another heartstone? Or OH SO IT'S ALIVE. OKAY GREAT. GUNMAR COULDN'T EVEN DO THAT RIGHT HUH

Love how the Heartstone has been dormant/dead for months and apparently heard Blinky say it's alive and decided to wake up RIGHT THEN

Finally they're evacuating the city. This is like, the third apocalypse there. About time.

Okay so you can't pull Excalibur from the rock, but you CAN carve out the stone. Couldn't you just carve it off the sword as close as possible and like. Use that? Just swing the whole damn rock around?

God i can NOT get over Steve's pants. I mean I read a spoiler he was gonna be pregnant but I thought it was a prank or shitpost. I did not see this coming and I am never going to be over it. I love how he and Aja just roll with it and nobody else even cares. They've seen weirder stuff. So he's pregnant now. Whatever.

Jim's hand is bandaged and his ribs still hurt. I love that they're actually consistent with his injuries. I mean sucks for him but hell yeah for hero that doesn't always win!

Okayyy here comes the heartstone. Why not!

IS HE IN LABOR

So if you kiss an Akiridion 7 times you will have 3-5 babies in a few hours. How are they not overpopulated?? Also Aja couldn't have WARNED STEVE BEFOREHAND?

Eli is so supportive omfg

So uh where are the babies gonna come out of? I'm not into mpreg how does this usually work

OH STEVE THANKS FOR ASKING MY QUESTION

Oh good thing he happens to have 8 friends still alive. Otherwise this would've never worked. Nomura had to die otherwise there would've been 10 of them.

Why is everyone bowing to Jim? Did they rehearse this?

Stuart if you hadn't taken a bathroom break you would've thrown off the math and doomed the world. That was a poop of fate my man

Ahhh the signature quote. Where did Douxie and the Akiridions learn it? Did they rehearse this too? It's really cliché but I do like it tbh

If Strickler were dead we'd see more Barbara right?

WOOO BLINKY DRIVING

Ah Jim just used she/her for Bellroc! Finally we're learning some pronouns. I've been wondering this whole time.

MY VIRGIN EYES. WHAT IS GOING O N

How are they not dying with all this lava?

She really just yeeted Varvatos

Did Claire just tell AAARRRGGHH to jump off the titan and he did it without question

I want to say I like Stuart and want him to have more screentime, but I won't say it because I don't want him to die

Jim's poor ribs

Toby can drive yoooo

Tobyyy you're scaring meeeee

So did they really need the different stone or was the amulet just waiting for Jim to choose death over giving up

I saw the armor before but it looks VERY COOL

Also I didn't mention this before but I love that they cut Merlin's name from the incantation. Good for them.

Toby you lost your helmet noooo

For real tho I'm terrified for Toby rn. I saw a comment somewhere earlier that just said "Toby no" with no context and I am AFRAID

So do Bellroc's eyes work after all? I thought she was blinded back in Wizards in the past.

DID SHE JUST FUCKING STAB MY BOY

TOBY YOU SHOULD NOT BE THERE GET OUT THE TRUCK

Bellroc maybe screaming "i'm powerless" in front of your enemy isn't the best idea

She sploosh

DID JIM SURVIVE THAT FALL AND ALSO IS THE TACO TRUCK OKAY

How is he lifting Claire like that buddy you have bruised ribs and just got stabbed

ELI HI CAN WE SEE THE KIDS

SEVEN KIDS! AND ELI JR I LOVE IT

This show really loves to give people more than the recommended amount of babies with no warning huh

She immediately knows which one is Eli Jr 🥺 okay listen I'm not the biggest fan of comic relief sideplot surprise babies, but I have to admit they're cute. Cute couple. Throuple. Eli is in on this. He even has a Junior.

I TOLD YOU WHERE'S THE DAMN TACO TRUCK NANA WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU AND NEITHER WILL I

Oh yea he better fuckin be alive I will commit murder

HE BETTER FUCKIN BE ALIVE BITCH

FUCK YOU

THAT'S A WHOLE ASS CHILD HE ISN'T ALLOWED TO DIE IT'S ILLEGAL

JIM IS GONNA LOOK DOWN AT THE GREEN GLOWING BITCH AAARRRGGHH CONVENIENTLY THREW THERE AND SEE HIM ALIVE OR SOMETHING

YEAH USE THE SWORD TO UNDEAD HIM! THAT'S HOW YOU USE SWORDS!

Unbecoming Part 2

So is Jim just gonna Groundhog Day it until everyone is fine? There's only 13 minutes left we're gonna need a bigger movie

Also I screamed so much about everyone's death and now everyone reading this after they already saw the whole thing is gonna shame me for clowning huh

The scene where Blinky is giving his goodbye speech, there are no babies and Steve has a round belly? Did he reabsorb them?? I mean I know Jim is about to un-birth them but he hasn't started yet

JUST HOW FAR BACK IS HE PLANNING TO GO

WAIT HOLD UP EXCUSE ME WHAT

Oh they did NOT just do that. I though he was just gonna go back to like, the start of the movie maybe. Not all the way

Imagine being in your early twenties with as much trauma as this kid has and having to pretend you're 16 again

Somewhere Unkar is complaining because "oh sure NOW it's a good idea"

I know Jim is wondering where Toby is because he was there before. But before, he made an entire meatloaf AND did his homework before leaving the house, so honey maybe wait a minute

For a second I thought Toby wasn't gonna be there and Jim would return to the right time. But there he is!

Alright so they're in school now, did they take the canal and just didn't mention the amulet on screen or did they pass it as if the Unbecoming episode hadn't been that traumatizing? Jim you know what happens when you ignore it

Jim maybe you're being too obvious here lmao

Soooo. Anyway. These whole past years I've rewatched this show over and over and over again are cancelled now?

OKAY AT LEAST WE SAW NANA FOR A SPLIT SECOND THAT'S IRONIC TIMING

So we get the quote again. And Trollhunter Tobias is nice. Cool. Cool AU I mean, but I don't know. I don't knowwww. I've been way too invested in everything to just accept that it never happened?? So uh. Hm. How about this.

Strickler survived because fuck you, and Toby also survived and just has scars now. Maybe a wheelchair but he's fine, also he can use the Warhammer for super speed and make it awesome once he's used to it. Archie and Charlie get freed once they rebuild the bridge (and they were playing scrabble to pass the time). Nomura is still dead because she died on screen and I can't really deny that but she's with Draal so it's okay. Everyone is traumatized but they'll be fine. NotEnrique is still babysitting 500 babies and Steve is about to bring 7 more.

In summary, I reject Groundhog Day ending but everything else was great, as long as it actually happened. It was a good movie. But you can't just cancel years of passion. Having the prospect of a million "canon AUs" sounds great for writing but at the same time nooo you can't do that he didn't have to go back THAT far HHHHH

I liked the movie. It was a great watch and a satisfying end to a franchise, but I gotta say I do not fancy the ending of it so I will from now on be in denial. I honestly feel kind of betrayed that this show was my whole life for so long, I learned every smallest fact, and they basically deleted it from existence. I know what they were going for, I think, but no thank you I will be going with my own opinion. Still gonna rewatch it a few dozen times though ✌🏻

And that concludes my live commentary that was supposed to be a small handful of notes. Feel free to shame me for my opinions. See ya!

[jamiedc-they-them]

Being Otis’ sibling would include:

AN// Spoilers for whole show. Also, sorry, this one I kind of ran with? Hope you like it :))

 You are a bit on the socially awkward side like your brother.

However, you’re more of an introvert; you let the world go around you and be a background extra rather than be a main in it’s story.

You’re more closed off, more defensive than your brother.

Your opposite on a lot of things, but balance each other out.

Your creative, he’s more academic

It’s mainly just the two of you and Eric. Best pals.

You, like him, are knowledgeable on sex, from your mother, even if you aren’t into that (the sex part or the other part)

Your mother always could tell with you, and assured you there was nothing wrong with it:

“Y/N, darling, you know there is nothing wrong with not wanting those type of relationships, right?”

“…Thanks, mum.”

Although it isn’t spoken, you both hold resentment for your father.

When Otis is picked as Adam’s partner, he gives you a panicked look. You, however, shrug; what can you do?

You are paired with Maeve, which is something that does annoy your brother:

“Trade?” He asks

“What? No. I’m not trading Maeve for Adam.”

“Y/N.” He pleads in a whining tune.

“Sorry, mate. Good luck though.” You wish him, leaving to follow Maeve.

For some reason, she gets the idea she can trust you and allows you to go to her house, knowing that Adam and Otis will not be a good pairing.

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you, got it?” Part of her is kind of silently laughing at your scared face. You are quick to assure her this secret stays with you, to the grave.

As you talk, and do find out you have a few things in common.

Of course, you both don’t tell each other everything. But you get a decent reading on each other.

She can tell that, compared to your brother, you’re holding a lot more in.

“How is it?” She asks

“How’s what?”

“Being siblings with him?”

“Otis?” She nods

“It’s nice, knowing you have someone that kind having your back, you know? You can cock up horribly and he’ll still be there. He’s loyal.” You answer.

She considers it, “Not many of those people left.”

“Not as many as I’d like.”

Fair to be said, when you come in happy, and actually almost getting along with Maeve, Otis isn’t the most happy about this.

When the news about your mum comes out, you and him both storm out.

That leads to an argument;

“Why couldn’t we swap?” He asks

“You think it would’ve fixed anything?”

“I don’t know?! Just…”

Maeve is quick to stop your arguing, she knows how bad sibling arguments can get.

When it comes to Adam, you and your brother play rock, paper, scissors to see who it’ll be.

You win, doing the nerdy fist pump as he has to do it.

You see Maeve roll her eyes at your antics.

So, with Maeve bringing in clients, Otis doing the talking, and you doing the PR (in a way) the clinic is born.

However, there is a point of contention between you and your brother; Maeve.

He see’s that you both are genuine friends, with you going out more and more at night.

“Where have you been?” He asks you, whenever you come in (after your mum has asked you of course. Your honest with her)

“To see a mate.”

“What mate?”

“I have other friends, Otis.”

“I know, Y/N. It’s just –”

“You think I’m,” Cough, “Doing…that, with Maeve, don’t you?”

“Wha—No?!”

“It’s ok, Otis. I get that you like her and all. But, just to assure you, no, we’re not together. We are just genuinely friends.”

“Oh…right.”

He seems happy for you, but you can tell there is a bit of jealousy.

However, you don’t hold it against him. You understand that he has feelings for Maeve, and do support him with it.

However, Maeve can read you well, so you try and be careful when you bring up your brother.

When the party at Aimee’s happens, you try and drum up business as well.

You get split up from the group, desperately escaping to the outside, only to see your mother outside:

“Mum?”

“Oh, Y/N, darling, hello.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, just in the area.”

“…You were spying on us, weren’t you?” You accuse her.

“I – yes, darling, I was. I’ve already had this talk with your brother.”

Being in a house of constant sex therapy, and being the way you are (asexual, aromantic) can be a bit of a contradiction of times.

For example, when Otis has his wet dream, the topic does make you a bit uncomfortable.

Maeve calls you, asking you tom meet her. She tells you a time and tells you to get there on-time.

And you do, you go to the clinic just as she goes into the room. You get yelled at by the protesters, but you walk it off.

“Don’t you care about the poor child living in there?”

“At this stage? To be honest, more about the woman.” You’re honest, but not horrible to them about it.

You come in your casual clothes, just sit there and wait.

Otis joins you, flowers in hand and wearing a suit.

“Oh, bloody hell, you thought it was a date, didn’t you?”

“…Maybe.”

“Classy first date.”

“Piss off.”

When Maeve comes out, you both great her and walk with her.

She texts you later: Maybe your brother is not so bad, after all.

Otis comes to you about the whole Jackson thing:

“I can sabotage him.”

“Seriously?”

“Of course I am, Y/N. I need your help –”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I’m not the talking guy, you are.”

“Yeah, but your more convincing.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“I’ll give you the money he’s given to me and that I can’t seem to bloody lose.”

“But I thought you wanted to give –”

“I can’t lose it, Y/N! I’d rather not stare at it.”

“Then don’t?”

“Take it?”

“No, you take it.”

However, you do see how it ends, and do feel for your brother.

As much as you may not have supported his methods, you could see why he did it.

You both find out what happens to Eric, and both take the blame for it.

“Seriously, Y/N, you too? You’d rather pick this girl you’ve known for a few weeks at best over me?”

“It’s not like that –”

“Then what is it like?!” Words are exchanged, and he leaves.

However, then you meet Ola and Jakob.

Ola’s nice; friendly, sincere. You like her.

“So, you’re Y/N.” She says as a greeting, shaking your hand.

“That is I, madam.” She laughs at it.

You become good friends fairly quicky. But, she respects your boundaries about the past.

You see how close your mum is getting to Jakob, and it just doesn’t sit right with you.

So, you call Maeve. She’s quick to answer:

“Pisshead?”

“Hey, uh – can…can we talk?” She detects the tremble in your voice.

“Where are you? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t really tell you over the phone.” You tell her to meet you at the bridge.

She meets you there quite quickly:

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

You take a breath to collect yourself, “My mum’s met this new guy…” So, you tell her about how your mother seeing someone new feels off to you. And you confess to her that you don’t know what the fuck is going on with Otis and Ola. She just lets you ramble the whole time.

At the end, she grabs your hands in hers, “Have you told Otis any of this?” She asks, softly.

“…No. No, not yet, anyway. He’s got his own issues and –”

“You have needs too, Y/N. You can’t go running around for him, forever. He’s your brother, a good one, he’ll listen. But…I’m here too.” She vows.

“Maybe he can give me a freebee on a session?” You joking say.

“Yeah, have to pay, of course, but I can slide you in for a meeting.” She fired back in the same manner.

“Thanks, Maeve.”

She hugs you, not saying anything.

Then the dance comes around.

Starts off well enough, you say hi to all your friends.

You and Otis both make up with Eric. It’s nice to have your best mates back.

Then you both save Liam, both convincing him not to jump.

You, however, see that Maeve looks at your brother differently. You always hated that “friends don’t look at each other like that” bollocks. But, you see that she has it read all over her face as well.

Then Jackson talks about what Otis did.

You get out just at the end of their confrontation, and Maeve turns to you in anger:

“Did you know?”

“Maeve –”

“Did you know?”

You go to speak, but Otis speaks for you;

“Y/N had nothing to do with it. It was just me, Maeve.”

She just looks at you, waiting and watching for something to confirm the words are a lie.

However, when she see’s that nothing has happened, she accepts it and storms off.

Now you’re in an awkward situation; between your brother and a close friend of yours.

Both parties don’t want you to be forced to choose, so they leave you out of it.

However, there is a bonding moment with you and your brother; mainly learning about the book your mother was written on you both. Well, more Otis, but there is a chapter on you.

That’s when it all just explodes:

“You can’t just do that, mum!”

“Can’t do what, darling?”

“Can’t just – can’t just put our entire lives in that bloody book! You gonna mention dad? You gonna mention how you make your other child feel uncomfortable with all the sex talk? How the world wants them to conform to some fucking normality, but they can’t because they just don’t feel that way?”

Your mother can do nothing but watch as you breakdown in front of her, how it all comes bubbling to the surface.

Time goes on, however. And you start going to therapy sessions in school.

Maeve contacts you every so often, but you don’t really reply too much.

Your brother and Ola help you as much as they can, helping you get up in the mornings and including you if they go out for something.

Ola and you become closer friends as well, despite the weirdness of your mum dating her dad.

You bring that up to your therapist a lot.

The two (especially Otis) support you during this time. They encourage the therapy and talking to them when needed.

When school restarts, Otis keeps a close eye on you, knowing that you burned yourself out last time, and he won’t let it happen again.

When Maeve comes back, he makes sure to point it out, hoping that can help in some way:

“You seen Maeve’s back?” He asks, as he gets some books from his locker.

“Sure.” You answer, almost apathetically.

Eric sits with you on breaks and when Otis can’t be there, doing what he can.

Otis ignores the tension between himself and Maeve when he pulls her aside one day:

“You have English next with Y/N, right?” He asks her.

“Yeah.” She answers, already being able to tell where this is going.

“Can you –”

“Of course I’m going to keep an eye on him.” She finishes for him (ha)

And she lives up to that promise, doing just that as you write some things down whilst not listening.

When the teacher gets pissy at you, she stands up for you:

“Sir, Y/N is going through something, lay off.”

Otis thanks her for that after the lesson

Then you are off on the trip with your father Remi

You both find out the real reason for the trip. That he was using it as a way to get away from a newly broken up relationship and to find another.

Then comes the party.

You, in your state that has (sadly) been declining, drink till your hearts content. Eric and Rahim try to warn you, but you keep going.

You brother also spirals. Although, out of the two, you are way more wasted.

Ola arrives, and she is pissed. You haven’t exactly been keeping up with affairs.

You vomit in the sink, with your brother drunkenly trying to help you by patting your back, but he only ends up falling over.

It’s Eric who helps you.

Then he does his speech; in it, he includes you as he rambles (apparently being “on a roll”)

“And then there’s my sibling, Y/N. They’ve been struggling for a while, guys, and has anyone noticed? No, but I have, because I’m a good brother. So, even if I can’t have those two (Maeve and Ola) than at least I have, Y/N.”

The next day, before leaving with Ruby, he remembers parts of what he said, but to him it’s a blur:

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

“So, what? I’m just a second fiddle to them?”

“No, of course not. You’re my sibling, Y/N. That comes before anything. I was drunk, and pissed at them. I didn’t mean to leave you out or make you feel that way.”

The day out with Ruby actually helps your bond repair, as you both go back to old times; doing the weirdest shit together. In this case, helping a girl Otis had sex with.

Still, Ruby comes around to liking the two of you.

You both go to your father, united as one.

You both confront him on the pain he’s brought you, and how it hurt you both and how you both carried a part of the blame.

He’s quick to try to dissuade you, but you both move on.

However, you see that your brother has a revelation. He calls Maeve to explain it.

Then, he goes with you to therapy.

Despite it all, despite the things you could and do say to each other. Despite the way you both are different in many ways, you’ll always come back home.

You both care about each other. You’ve been through a lot.

You have each other. And, sometimes, that’s enough.

[creativewritingpracticestudio]

The Whole Damn World, And More(Current!Axl Rose x Reader) [Smut]

This wasn’t requested, but I love current day Axl, and I really wanted a fic like this.

Description: You’re Axl’s much-younger girlfriend, and the media has had a field day with your relationship. Every article is a false speculation that you’re a gold digger, that Axl’s paid you to date him, that it’s a fake relationship for publicity. It’s not doing much for Axl’s self-esteem, and you’ve noticed. No matter what the media says, it doesn’t change how you feel about Axl, and you’re determined to prove it.

Warnings: Smut, Age Gap Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Low Self-Esteem

Guns N Roses Taggers: @stradlin-cold-heartbreaker @curly-hudson @ubernoxa

Permanent Taggers: @smokeandmirrorz @holyjunkie @overlyobsessedfangirl @slashevilsister @julessworldd @comawhxte666 @agroupiewhore

Older Axl Rose Taggers: @frankillol @assassin-canary

“This is bullshit. Utter. Fucking. Bullshit.”

You stared down at the trashy gossip magazine that was tightly clutched between your fingers, a look of pure disgust on your face. The press weren’t even trying to hide their opinion of your relationship with Axl, anymore. A picture of you and Axl was the front cover. The picture itself was incredibly manipulative; they had snapped the photo while you were distracted, so Axl was smiling at you lovingly while you looked off somewhere else, appearing uninterested.

Along with the picture, the caption read, “Axl Rose has a new girlfriend-or is sugar baby a better word? (Y/n) (L/n), seen pictured here alongside the singer(who just turned 59)while out at a local festival, appears to be completely uninterested in her supposed lover. Maybe the money just isn’t enough?” You could feel your face going beet red. Fuck, you hated the fucking press so much sometimes. You tossed the stupid magazine onto the kitchen floor and stood up from the table, kicking it aside.

God, why did the press hate you so much? You’d known there would be talk, considering how much younger you were than Axl, but this was just plain ridiculous. They were grasping at straws just to drag you through the damn mud. “Everything okay, baby? Heard you throw something.” You glanced up to see Axl standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. You smiled. “Hey, baby. I’m fine. Just a magazine.” He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “What did the magazine do? Do I need to beat it up?”

You giggled, and walked over to give him a hug. “Don’t worry about it, baby. It’s dumb.” He kissed you on the cheek, resting his forehead against yours. “Is it really, or do you just not want me to know what you’re upset about?” Damn it. Axl could always tell when something bothered you. You sighed, leaning your head against his chest, and looked up at him. “The media’s such a bitch sometimes.” A look of understanding crossed his face.

“What was the headline this time?” You stomped over to the magazine and picked it up, smoothing out the wrinkles as you handed it to Axl. He glanced down at it, and a look of hurt crossed his face that made you feel awful for even showing it to him. God, he didn’t deserve this bullshit. “Sugar baby, huh? You put up with way too much of my bullshit to just be in it for my money, isn’t that right baby?” He tossed the magazine back on the floor and wrapped you back into his arms for another warm hug.

You accepted the hug, but pulled your head away from his chest long enough to give him a pointed stare. “You know those magazines are bullshit, right? I love you, not your money.” Axl smiled, although somewhat unconvincingly, and nodded, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I know, baby.” You knew he was lying, but decided not to pry. You kissed him on the neck and rested your head on his chest again, and he sighed, stroking your hair. “Let’s not look at these magazines anymore.”

You hummed in agreement, the both of you gently rocking back in forth in the embrace, and he suddenly pulled away. “Let’s go watch some TV, baby.” You smiled and followed him into the living room, knowing he was more interested in cuddling on the couch than in actually watching anything. He plopped down on the couch, and you crawled into his lap, letting him wrap an arm around your waist as you rested the back of your head on his chest. He flipped quickly through the channels, and you saw a flash of his name on the screen.

Evidently, he did too, because he stopped on that channel, which turned out to be a trashy talk show. It was a group of middle-aged woman sitting around a table; the bar at the bottom of the screen read: ‘Axl Rose’s Gold Digger Girlfriend.’ You felt Axl tense up, and looked up at him. He looked pissed, but didn’t change the channel. The women were talking about how “obvious” it was that you were using him for his money. “I mean, let’s be honest with ourselves. She’s a young, pretty girl, and Axl Rose hasn’t been attractive since the nineties. There’s nothing in it for her except his money.”

The host who had said that received a round of applause from the audience, but you had already snatched the remote from Axl and turned the TV off, breathing heavily from how pissed off you were at the girl’s words. You could tell from how tightly he was gripping your waist that Axl was upset, and you quickly got off of his lap and turned around to pull him into a hug, pushing his head against your chest and stroking his hair as you whispered in his ear. “Baby, I’m so sorry, don’t listen to them, they don’t know anything.” Axl mumbled something into your shirt. “What did you say, baby?”

He pulled away and repeated himself. “Guess we’ll have to throw the TV out, too.” You smiled, but you knew he was only joking to hide how hurt he was. “I’ll burn it for you, my love.” You took his hand and pressed it against your cheek, kissing his knuckle. “We can just find something else to do, anyway. Actually, I can name a couple of things right now that we could do instead of watching TV.” You smiled suggestively and ran your hand down Axl’s chest, expecting him to get excited and carry you upstairs to the bedroom like he always did, but to your surprise, he shook his head and pushed your hand off, standing up.

“I think I’m just going to call it a night, baby. I ordered a pizza a while ago, it should be here soon. Eat as much of it as you want.” He went upstairs without another word, and you felt a stab of guilt. It was only 8:30; there was no way he was actually tired. Or, maybe he was. You couldn’t blame him, seeing as this constant media bashing would exhaust anyone. Worst of all, it seemed like he was genuinely starting to believe what the media was saying about how you were only with him for his money. That he was an ugly, fat, worthless rock star, and you were just pretending to love him for his cash.

The thought of him believing that was enough to make you want to cry. He was such a sweet man, and he loved you so much, and people couldn’t just leave him alone and let him be happy for once in his life. As you sat at the table, waiting for the doorbell to ring for the pizza, a terrible thought occurred to you: what if Axl was crying upstairs, all alone and feeling used? The image of him curled up in the fetal position with tears running down his face, like a scared little boy, was the final straw. Fuck the goddamn pizza, Axl was way more important.

You hurried up the stairs, almost tripping from how fast you were going, and stopped in front of your bedroom door, pressing one ear to the door to see if you could hear anything. It was deathly silent, which worried you way more than anything else would have. After a moment, you hesitantly knocked on the door. “Come in.” It was so quiet, you almost didn’t hear it. You opened the door, and closed it behind you as you came in. Axl was laying on the bed, facing away from you. His shoes and jeans were still on, and there were no blankets on him. He was just laying there, staring at the blank wall.

“Baby? Are you okay?” You walked around to his side of the bed, sitting on the edge of the bed beside him. He hid his face in the pillow, and you reached out to take his much-bigger hand in your own. “Axl? Honey, look at me please. You can talk to me, you know that.” His shoulders relaxed a little bit, and he moved his head so his cheek was against the pillow. It wasn’t much of an improvement, but you could at least see his face now. “Tell me what’s wrong, my love. I hate seeing you like this.” He sighed, squeezing your hand, and shook his head. “It’s so fucking stupid, baby.”

You leaned down closer to him and stroked his hair, eyeing him sympathetically. “What’s stupid, baby? Talk to me, I’m here for you.” He was silent for a moment, seemingly getting his thoughts together. “I feel like I’m not enough for you.” You felt a pang of guilt in your chest, heartbroken at how sad he sounded. “Not enough for me? Aw, baby, I’m so sorry, how have I made you feel like that? I promise I didn’t mean to, you’re more than enough for me.” Axl shook his head, finally sitting up enough for you to see his face. “I don’t mean you at all, baby, you haven’t done anything wrong. If anything, I think you’re just about the only person who hasn’t acted like I’m not enough for you.”

Confused, you crawled into Axl’s arms and wrapped your own around him, pulling him closer to you to make him feel safer. “Then who’s been making you feel that way, baby?” You gently scratched his back with your fingernails, and felt him relax under your touch. “The media, talk show hosts, people on fucking Twitter, my friends, the entire general public, I could go on and on. It’s like I’m finally happy and I’ve finally met someone whom I’m head-over-heels for, and it feels like everyone’s against it. All this shit..as far as the newspapers are concerned, you’re a gold digger and I’m a fat, ugly loser who’s paying you for sex.”

You felt your heart rip in half. Did he really believe that you were only in this for the money, like how people were saying? “Axl, baby, I don’t know if me saying this will help anything, but I promise you I’m not with you for your money. I’m with you because you’re kind, and you’re funny, and you’re so, so handsome, and so talented, and because I love you so much. You could lose all your money tomorrow and I’d still be right here beside you when you woke up the next day.” Axl looked genuinely touched, and he leaned over and kissed you on the lips. “Maybe I really don’t deserve you. You’re the sweetest fucking angel on earth, you know that, baby?”

You grinned and stroked his face, happy he was cheering up. “We deserve each other, baby. But you really do know I’m not a gold digger, right?” Axl nodded. “I never thought you were, baby, I’ve just been worried that those people are right. That you do deserve someone better, and that you’ll realize that and leave me for a younger guy who’s actually attractive and more in shape than me, you know? I guess I wouldn’t blame you if you did, though, I know I’m not exactly the most sexually appealing guy on the planet. Far from it, actually. I’m sorry for that.” You frowned and kissed his forehead. “What? Baby, where did you get that idea from?”

He laughed, and leaned his head back against the pillow, clasping his hands behind his head. “Haven’t you seen all the talk shows and the headlines and the memes, baby? I think it’s pretty clear what the general public thinks of me. Not to mention, we have mirrors.” You narrowed your eyes and, without warning him, straddled him and pinned his arms down on the bed, leaning forward so that your lips were just an inch away from his. “You really think you’re not attractive enough, baby?” He looked a little surprised, but nodded. You leaned even closer until your lips brushed his own. “Guess I’ll have to show you how wrong you are, then.”

You kissed him roughly, gripping his shirt in your fingers and running your hands up his chest. When you pulled away, his lips were swollen and red, and he looked shocked out of his mind. “What do you say, Ax? Want me to show you? I won’t do anything else unless you want me to.” He nodded quickly and pulled you back down to kiss him again, running his hands down to squeeze your firm ass. You could feel him getting hard beneath you, and you ground your hips down against his, feeling it harden even more as he moaned against your lips.

You pulled away and tugged at the hem of his shirt, hinting to him that you wanted it off, and he hesitated. You immediately stopped and looked up at him. “What’s the matter?” He smiled weakly. “Maybe I should keep the shirt on this time, baby.” You frowned and shook your head. “No way! I love seeing you shirtless, baby, I’d let you walk around like that all day if you wanted to.” He still looked uncertain, so you spoke to him gently. “Do you really not want to take it off? I’m not gonna force you, baby.” He fidgeted with his shirt hem. “Do you promise that you actually like me like that? With my shirt off, I mean. It really doesn’t bother you?”

You smiled reassuringly and kissed his forehead. “It doesn’t bother me at all. I love your body, baby, you should be proud of it. Here, let me see.” You gently pulled his shirt up enough to expose his chest and tummy, and admired his body fondly. “See? Nothing to be ashamed off. It’s perfect to me.” You leaned down and kissed a line down his chest, reveling in the sounds he made as you got closer to his bulge. You kissed down his belly until your lips reached the waistband of his jeans, and then licked a stripe up his belly, making his hips jolt underneath you. You fiddled with the button on his jeans, and he sat up a little more excitedly.

You pulled his jeans down his thighs enough to reveal his boxers, and slid your hand down his waistband to rub his cock. He moaned softly at the contact, and you pulled his cock out and let it rest against his stomach, stroking a finger up the exposed underside of the shaft. Tiny drops of precum beaded from the tip, and you swiped them up with your finger and licked them up. You realized he still had his shoes on, and got off of him long enough to pull them off along with his tight pants and boxers, leaving him completely naked and exposed. Your eyes raked his body appreciatively, and you smiled.

“You’re so fucking sexy, baby. God, look at that. Your cock looks so tasty. I guarantee you those bitchy talk show hosts don’t get dick like this. I’m so lucky.” Your words made Axl go red, and he smiled sheepishly as you climbed back on top of him and kissed him once again, running your hands over his chest as you did so. By now, a steady stream of precum was leaking from his tip, and his erection was so red and throbbing that it almost looked painful. “Aw, look at that. Let me take care of you, baby.” You reached out and wrapped your hand around the base, and he sighed gently at the soft touch.

You gently pumped your hand up and down his hard shaft, rubbing your thumb over his slit and spreading the precum over his head. His head fell back against the pillow, and you giggled and leaned down to kiss the tip. His reaction was to curse under his breath and push the back of your head down until your mouth was around the tip, and you eagerly sucked on the head as you attempted to slowly take the entire thing into your mouth. A low moan fell from Axl‘s lips, and he mumbled praises under his breath as he closed his eyes and laid back against the bed. You rubbed circles on his thigh with one hand.

You wrapped one hand around his base to keep it steady as you took it all the way into your mouth until your lips met your hand. You used your free hand to cup his balls, fondling them as you swirled your tongue around the tip, licking up the beads of precum leaking from his slit. Axl shivered and gently pulled you off of his dick, beckoning you to come closer to him. You did, and he kissed you desperately as his hands slid up the back of your shirt to hold onto your hips. He pulled away and smiled. “How come I’m the only naked one here? It’s not very fair.”

You grinned at him and nodded. “You’re right, it’s not! So sorry, let me fix that, baby.” You grabbed your shirt by the edges and pulled it off, throwing it across the room and turning back to Axl. “Wanna help me get this bra off?” Axl’s face lit up and he nodded eagerly, sliding his hands around to the clasp of your bra and unsnapping it with ease. “You’re a natural at this, baby!” Axl laughed. “Probably helps that we do this a lot.” You tugged the bra off and discarded it with the shirt, and then grabbed Axl’s hands and guided them to your breasts.

He gently squeezed them, rubbing his fingers over your nipples until they were hard, and then looked up at you. “Move a little closer?” You smiled, knowing what he wanted to do, and leaned close enough for him to take one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking gently on it and then gently sucking a hickey onto the space right above it. You tightened your hands in his hair and moaned softly, encouraging him under your breath. “Fuck, that’s so good, baby.” Soon enough, you pulled away and grabbed Axl’s hands again to guide them under your skirt.

His hands were warm, and you had to bite your lip to keep from gasping as he gently teased your entrance with his fingertip. Axl slowly pushed it inside you, immediately stretching out your walls as you tightened around him. “Here, take the skirt and the panties off so I can see you better.” You obediently lifted yourself up enough to slide off your skirt and thin panties, letting them drop to the floor. Axl’s eyes drifted down to your exposed pussy, and he beckoned for you to move closer. “Fuck, you look so damn perfect, baby. I don’t deserve you.” You leaned down to kiss him again, cupping his cheek.

“You deserve me, I deserve you, we deserve each other, baby. Want me to ride you?” Axl nodded, eyes widening as you grabbed his cock by the base to steady it as you lined up your entrance with his tip, placing your free hand on Axl’s chest as you slowly lowered yourself onto his cock, throwing your head back in pleasure as you slid down about half-way on it and then stopped to adjust to his size. “Fuck, your cock is so big baby, you stretch me out so good!” Axl moned softly at the praise, grabbing your hips and gently pulling you all the way down on his dick as your pussy tightened around his shaft.

You pulled his hands off and pinned them to his chest, deciding that you wanted to take control, and pulled yourself all the way back up off of his dick so that the tip was barely pressing against your entrance. Axl protested at the sudden lack of contact, but immediately shut up when you slammed your hips all the way back down on his cock without warning, prompting him to grab at the bedsheets with a white-knuckled grip. You developed a steady rhythm, going up and down on his dick at a face past as he kept busy by grabbing at your soft breasts as they teasingly bounced around in front of his face.

“Fuck, Axl, you feel so good. You think any of those bitchy fucking talkshow hosts get fucked this good? You think those losers that write the newspapers can fuck their wives as good as you fuck me? God, you’re so amazing, baby, I love you so much!” You leaned down to kiss him passionately as you slowed your pace, taking the time to tease his tip with your entrance as you only went as far as his tip. When you took him all the way in again, his tip brushed against your g-spot, and you moaned loudly, pushing your hips farther down to repeat the motion. After doing this a few more times, you could tell you were almost there. “Fuck, baby, I’m close!”

Axl grabbed your hips and pulled you off of his dick. “Let me eat you out, baby, I wanna taste that sweet pussy.” You eagerly crawled up until your pussy was an inch away from his mouth, and he pulled your thighs down to give himself better access as he slid his tongue over your dripping wet clit. Axl grabbed your ass and gently pushed you down so you were sitting on his face, allowing him to push his tongue deeper inside you as his lips wrapped around your sensitive clit. You gasped at the sensation, bucking against his mouth as he ate you out like a starving beggar; it only took you about a minute or so until you felt your climax coming.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum-” You threw your head back and screamed as you came, legs shaking and eyes almost rolling back in your head. Axl licked up your cum, cleaning it out of your now-sensitive pussy and gently kissing your thigh. “You taste so good, baby, thank you.” You kissed him again, tasting yourself on his lips, and then remembered that he was still hard. “Aw, baby, I almost forgot. Here, let me pay you back for that.” You crawled down until you were facing his cock, the tip even redder than before, and wasted no time in taking the whole thing in your mouth, deepthroating it roughly to help him cum as quickly as possible.

You hollowed your cheeks around his shaft as you squeezed his balls and swirled your tongue around his head, and Axl warningly fisted his hands into your hair and shoved you all the way down. “Baby, baby, fuck I’m so close, I’m gonna cum right down that pretty little throat.” You took the hint and pulled off so that just his tip was in your mouth, and he came down your throat, tightening his fingers into your hair and keeping you on his cock as his cum filled your mouth. It was almost a minute before he was finished, and you quickly swallowed his seed and lapped up the stray drops from his cock.

When you looked up at Axl, his head was leaned back against the pillow and his eyes were shut, chest rising and falling as he slowly began to regain his normal breathing pattern. You smiled affectionately and crawled up beside him in bed, pushing the hair up off of his forehead to help him cool off. He opened one eye to look at you, a small smile on his face. “That was pretty fucking incredible, baby.” You giggled, kissing him on the forehead and cuddling up beside him as you pulled the covers over the two of you. “Damn right it was. But do you get it now? Those newspapers and shows don’t mean shit. I love you, Axl Rose, and that’ll never change.”

Axl smiled, taking one of your hands in his own and gently kissing your knuckle. “And that’s why your the love of my life, baby. I fucking adore you. You really don’t mind how I look?” You nodded. “Why would I? You’re sexy as fuck, baby, I wouldn’t fuck you so much if I didn’t think so.” Axl closed his eyes again, laughing. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. That’s a relief, cus I really like your body, too.” You playfully rolled your eyes and snuggled up closer to him. “Never would have guessed. For real, though, I love you. And I don’t care how many articles or talk shows think that’s a lie, we can just burn the newspapers and change the channel.”

Axl nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s right. I bet half of those talk show ladies are just jealous that they’re not as beautiful as you, anyway.” You blushed. “Or maybe they’re just jealous that their love lives aren’t as good as ours.” Axl nodded. “Or that they aren’t as sexy.” You continued, the both of you on a roll. “Or that their husbands have small dicks.” Axl burst out laughing at that one. “I have a small dick and you still love me!” You snorted with laughter. “Axl, you’re fucking huge. I’m gonna be walking funny for a week!” Axl grinned. “Guess I’ll just have to carry you everywhere, then, baby.”

He yawned suddenly, and you smiled fondly as his eyelids started to droop. The sex must have worn him out. “Tired, baby?” Axl nodded. “I know you ordered a pizza, but I’m so sleepy.” You smiled, letting him rest his head on your chest as you stroked his hair. “Go to sleep, baby, and I’ll keep an ear out for the doorbell.” Axl frowned in concern. “You sure you don’t want to go to sleep, too?” You shook your head. “I’d rather sit here and admire you.” Axl went pink, and he shook his head in astonishment as he quickly drifted off to sleep. “I don’t deserve you.” You sighed. “You do deserve me, baby. You deserve the whole damn world and more.”