#bars me from opportunities to even FIND the right community for me

[iluvmattsbeard]

older (m.s)

master list

student! matt sturniolo x professor! reader

warnings: HEAVY smut/oral (female receiving)/fingering/p in v/creampie/swearing

preview: 18 year old student Matt is a freshman in college. you are his professor who is 28 years old. Matt is a phenomenal student. but during lectures, he can’t help but check out his professor, fantasizing about you. you tell him it’s unprofessional for you to pay more attention to him than any other student. you also tells him you're too old for him which, he tries to prove to you you're wrong.

*not proof read*

a/n: i’m doing a collab with @mwahsturns ! go check out her version of Matt being the professor, click here ,this is my version of the reader being professor! i’m so glad I had the opportunity of working with her. she is lovely and absolutely amazing overall. i hope to do this again. if anyone would also like to collab with me in the future, let me know!

even though Matt was pursuing his YouTube career with his brothers, Matt wanted to do something on his own. in videos, he is known to spread light on mental health and anxiety. as he did some research, he found a community college that fit his standards. he wanted to major in psychology and hopefully see where it takes him. his brothers supported his decision and he couldn't be anymore excited. he enrolled himself and got in immediately. today was his first day and he was currently packing his back pack. "are you sure you'll be able to handle all of this?" his brother Nick asks. Matt was in the middle of shoving his books in his bag, "yes Nick. i'll be okay. i'm just going to see if this is right for me. if it's not, then i'll stick to YouTube." he responds while zipping up the bag in front of him.

"okay I was just making sure." Nick says getting up from the bar stool in the kitchen. "alright, i'm all set. i'll see you guys later." Matt says putting on the back pack and picking up his car keys. Chris and Nick both say good bye to him and he walks out, heading to his car. as soon as he put the address in his navigation, he noticed the estimated arrival time and muttered under his breath, "fuck." it was not going to be a good first impression he thought. when he finally got on campus, he headed straight to his class. he got to the door and opened it, walking inside to see all the students turn and look at him. "you're late." he hears a woman say. he turns to look at you. you had your back facing towards the class as you wrote something on the whiteboard.

you turn around and he locks eyes with yours. "what's your name?" you ask walking over to your desk. "Matthew." he says eyeing you. "okay Matthew, you may take a seat. I'll let it slide since it's your first day." you respond looking up from your computer to catch his stare. Matt nods and walks to an empty seat. he didn't expect his professor to look the way you did. he looked at the board to see your name. "miss L/n..." he whispers to himself. Matt kept his eyes on you as you spoke, "Matthew, you can ask the person next to you to copy their notes that I previously had up. go over it and try to catch up okay?" Matt nods and does as you say. as he took notes, he couldn't help but get distracted by the professor. your white button up shirt with your hair both placed in front of your shoulders, your long black pencil skirt, stockings, and black heels. he couldn't keep his eyes off you.

as time went by, Matt was always on top of his work. his focus was always there in lectures. he didn't really find the subject of the class all that interesting but, his professor was all he cared about. he wanted to stand out and to do so, he needed to focus on what you were teaching about so he could stay on top. Matt was never good in school but, this was different. after one of the lectures, he decided to stick around as other students left. "is there something you need Matthew?" you ask looking up at him. he was still sat in his seat as he clears his throat, "i'm having a little trouble accessing some material at home." he says lying. "let me take a look." you suggest to him. he gets up and walks over to you with his laptop. "you can call me Matt by the way." he adds on as he places the laptop in front of you. you smile a bit, "good to know." you respond and looks at his screen.

you began to open up the material that he claimed wasn't working. you look at him, "are you sure it wasn't working at home?" you ask. "it wasn't last night. I guess you have the magic touch." he says causing you to laugh, "I guess so. anything else you need help with?" you ask. he shakes his head, "not that I know of." he says taking his laptop off the desk. he starts to walk away but you call out to him, "wait Matt." he turns around and looks at you, "yes?" he asks. you stand up from your chair and smile, "I just want to tell you i'm highly impressed by your work. every single assignment you turn in, is beyond what I ask for." you complimented him. Matt grins before speaking, "I am being taught well." you laugh, "thank you. that just means i'm doing my job." you say clasping your hands together in front of you.

as more lectures go by, he couldn't help but start to fantasize about you. he started to imagine how he would look impressing you with something else he's good at beyond his assignments. the way you spoke, he could just imagine the way you would whisper in his ear. Matt would eye your buttoned shirt and imagine how he would undo it. his thoughts were soon interrupted by the professor clearing your throat, "Matt?" you call out. he gulps and looks up at your eyes instead of your blouse, "make sure you're paying attention." you say tapping on his desk before walking away. after class, you ask him to stick around. "are you okay?" you question him. he was sat across from you, "yes i'm fine. why?" he asks. you laugh a bit, "I could tell your mind was wondering off somewhere else. I just wanted to know if something was bothering you." you say as he stares at you. "oh yeah, i'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to." he responds.

"that's okay, just let me know what's on your mind next time." she suggests. Matt nods and it stays quiet for a bit. "how'd you get into teaching?" he asks breaking the silence. "it's a long story." you say laughing a bit. he has this blank face as he speaks, "I have time." your smile fades a bit as you let out a little breath, "well, it wasn't my first choice. I wanted to pursue in something more creative but to my parents it was more of a dream than a reality. I decided to get into education and well here I am." you continued to ramble but he catches you off guard with his next question, "what's your name?" you look at him, "that's a sudden question. my name is Y/n but don't get use to that." you say. "how old are you, Y/n?" he asks curiously and boldly. "none of your business." you respond as he grins, "i'm just trying to get to know you." you hesitate but eventually tell him, "i'm 28." you mutter out.

"are you married?" he asks making your eyes widen a bit, "no but, that's a very personal question. this is starting to get inappropriate." you say getting up from your chair. Matt gets up as well, "it's inappropriate to try to get to know you?" he asks. you turn to look at him, "it's inappropriate because i'm your teacher. i'm not somebody you need to know better." you respond. he puts on his back pack and smiles, "only innocent." he says walking out the classroom leaving you standing there alone.

a few days later, you were at your desk grading assignments as you notice Matt's work getting sloppy. you ask him to stay after class and he does so. it was all apart of his plan. "Matt, your recent assignments have been painfully hard to grade. you were doing good not too long ago, why are you being lazy with your work?" you ask in a serious tone. "i'm not quite sure. why don't you want me to get to know you?" he asks catching you off guard. "Matthew, we're talking about your work here." you say wanting to stick to the serious conversation. "are you scared Y/n?" he asks making you fix your posture, "it's miss L/n to you." you remind him. "answer my question. are you scared you might enjoy talking to me?" he says. "it's inappropriate." you say repeating yourself from last time. "is it inappropriate to ask what you like to drink?" he asks tilting his head a bit with a small smile.

"mainly iced coffee." you answer hoping to move on from the conversation, "now can we talk about your work?" you ask hoping he would cooperate but, he gets up and puts on his back pack, "i'll fix it." he says before walking out leaving you once again, in shock. you sat there wondering why he was acting the way he was.

the next day, you had your back facing the class as you wrote a check list on the board. as soon as you turned around, you do a double take of the iced coffee that was placed on your desk. you look up from it, eyeing Matt as he just grins and looks away to unzip his bag. unbelievable you thought. after the lecture, you ask him stick around as everyone else leaves. "Matt, don't start this." you say sternly. "what? I can't get you coffee for being a good teacher?" he says with a sly smile. you sigh, "that's nice of you but I know what you're doing." you say with your arms crossed. "what am I doing?" he asks not taking his eyes off of you. "you're trying to flatter me." you mutter out. he laughs and puts on his back pack. he looks at you up and down and greets you good bye as he walks out. "what are you up to..." you whisper to yourself.

when Matt arrived home, he began to do his assignments. "how has school been?" Chris asks before taking a sip of his Pepsi. Matt's eyes stayed on his computer, "not much to talk about." he says. Chris rolls his eyes a bit, "nice talking to you." he says. "there is this girl." Matt lets out. "who?" Chris asks now very interested. Matt looks at him, "none of your business." he laughs to himself as he remembers you telling him that. "then why bring it up?" Chris says with a blank face. Matt just laughs again and shakes his head.

the next few days, you start to notice Matt's work going back to being astounding. how is that possible? how did he do it so quickly? Matt continued to get you iced coffee every day. other students were starting to notice. as you sat there, you continue to look at Matt's work and you started to put the pieces together. the coffee, the inappropriate behavior, and he was purposely being sloppy before. you shut your computer as you look at him already staring at you. you felt a sort of shiver go down your spine as this look was different. his eyes were captivating in a way that made you feel disappointed in yourself for even thinking that. you look away and begin your lecture. after, you ask Matt to stick around once more.

"were you being sloppy on purpose?" you ask standing in front of his desk. "maybe." he responds with the same sly smile like always. you let out a sigh, "Matt, why are you doing this?" you ask. "doing what?" he asks trying to be innocent. you turn around and pick up the iced coffee on your desk, "the coffee every day, you wanting to get to know me, asking personal questions, and now I realize you were purposely trying to stay after class." you let out making him lean back in his seat. "and the question you asked the other day. if I was scared that i'll enjoy talking to you? seriously?" you add on.

he looks down and shakes his head with a smile. "what is so funny?" you question with your arms crossed. he looks back up at you, "do you really want to know?" he says. "yes I do." you respond waiting for him to explain. he sits up a bit as he places his arms on the desk, "I think about you constantly." he pauses for a bit, "do you think I wanted to fantasize about my professor?" he asks. you uncross your arms and gulp, "no one asked you to." you say. he laughs a bit, "yeah well I do. you make it hard for me to focus." he says making you look away, "then maybe you should transfer into a different class Matt." you suggest.

"are you sure you want that?" he says making you look at him. it stays quiet for bit as you both locked eyes. you look away quickly and turn around, "I can't do this." you say walking up to your desk. Matt gets up and walks behind you. you stop in front of your desk, placing your hands onto it. Matt gets closer behind you as he presses up against you slightly. you look ahead of you as you felt his presence. Matt moves your hair away by tucking it behind your ear as he gets closer to your ear. you gulp as you stand still, "are you sure you want me gone from your class Miss L/n?" he whispers in your ear. you felt a shiver roll down your spine, "i'm too old for you Matt." you whisper still looking ahead of you. "I'm of age you know." he lets out. "i'm still 10 years older than you..." you reply but he just continues, "just because I'm young, doesn't mean I don't know how to handle you." you let out a breath as he starts to run his hands on your waist, down to your hips.

"i'm your professor Matt..." you whisper. he smirks, "I know. but I can also teach you things." he says turning you around. he steps closer as you lean a bit against the desk, "like what?" you ask looking into his eyes. he picks you up by your waist as he places you on the desk. he was now standing in between your legs as he looks down at you, "I can teach you what it's like to feel good." he whispers. you gulp without breaking eye contact, "Matt..." you whisper back. he places his hands on your face as he pulls you in slowly, closer to his face. your lips were nearly touching, "tell me, do you want that?" he asks. you were filled with mixed emotions. the way you two were, if someone walked in, it would've been obvious what's about to happen. Matt rubs your cheek softly, "use your words." he says in a low tone. his words became more demanding as his eyes grew dark. "teach me then..." you whisper out. he immediately presses his hungry lips onto yours as he kept his hands on your face. your hands were placed on the desk as you leaned into the kiss.

you knew this was wrong but, it felt so right. Matt moves his hands down to your thighs as he places a good grip on them. he pulls you closer, making his grown erection touch your core. you moan out quietly from the sudden action as he then starts to unbutton your shirt slowly as he continues to kiss you with the same eagerness. you buck your hips a bit against his clothed cock as he finally got your shirt to come undone. he then pulls it open, moving it behind your shoulders. now you were mostly revealed at top as your blouse was low on your elbows.

he moves his lips to your neck as he places wet kisses, he begins to suck your skin as he finds your sweet spot, causing you to throw your head back a bit as your eyes went shut. Matt then moves away and looks down at your skirt. he pulls it up slowly, revealing your black lace panties. he begins to kneel down as he pulls them down. you look down at him as he makes eye contact with your wetness. "already so wet for me." he says before moving his head closer in between your legs. he spreads your legs apart slightly as he started to work his way to lick your folds.

your breathing started to go uneven as you let out a breath. he began to tongue the inside of your entrance as you kept your eyes on him. you ran your hand through his hair as you moan quietly. you don't remember the last time someone pleased you. he starts to run his tongue up and down your entrance as your eyebrows furrowed, making your mouth open slightly. the mixture of the wetness of his tongue and your natural wetness was driving you crazy. his tongue worked like magic. he then began to flick his tongue onto your clit as he stuck two digits into your core. you moan from the stimulation as your thighs started to close in. Matt looks up at you as he watches your face change from the way he was moving. his fingers started to go in and out of you as he then started to swirl his tongue around your throbbing clit.

you grip his hair even more as you kept eye contact with him. he was loving the view he had. the way your mouth kept letting out beautiful noises, he knew he was living up to his words. you buck your hips, wanting more from him. he removes his fingers from inside of you and pulls away. he stands back up and licks his lips. "you seemed to enjoy that." he says. "you're looking like you don't mind anymore miss L/n." he lets out as he starts to unbutton his pants. you look at his crotch as he pulls down his pants with his boxers. you felt yourself in between your legs ache. you needed him badly. he strokes his cock as he makes you look at him in the eyes, "do you still think you're too old for me?" he asks, "look how hard you made me." he adds on.

he then grabs you under your thighs, pulling you closer to him as he rubs his tip at your entrance. "M-Matt..." you whine out. "if only you could look at yourself right now. not so inappropriate now huh?" he says with a grin. he then pushes himself into you as you throw your head back from the way he began to stretch you out, "fuck." Matt moans out lowly. you moan at the way he started to thrust slowly. you didn't know if you could take all of him but, he made sure you did. he starts to thrust harder into you as he pushes himself deeper into you. you wrap your legs around him as you pull him into a kiss. he kisses back as he now starts to pound into you. this made you moan in between kisses. your one hand rested around his neck as the other gripped behind his hair.

"keep it down." he says while going back to kiss you, muffling your moans. you shut your eyes as you melt under him. he loved the way he was stuffing you right now. he was finally fulfilling his imagination. you started to push against his thrusts as he gripped your thighs. his thrusts were deep, making your eyes fog up. you didn't know it was possible to feel this good. especially, from your student. he pulls away from the kiss, biting your lip softly. he pushes you down onto the desk, causing some stuff to fall off. he puts your legs together as he continues to thrust at a fast pace. you cover your mouth as you moan into your hands. the position he had you in hurt so good. "fuck i'm going to cum." he groans. "m-me too." you moan out. he spreads your legs and places his thumb on your clit as he started to rub in circles. you were a moaning mess as you gripped onto the edge of the desk.

Matt then releases in you after one last hard thrust. you both cum at the same time. he thrusts out his high as he pulls out of you slowly, watching his cum drip out of you. he grins feeling accomplished. you sat up on the desk as you caught up with your breathing. Matt pulls up his boxers and pants, buttoning it back up. he grabs his back pack and puts it on. he looks at you still on the desk as he smiles, "i'll keep this a secret." he says before walking out.

a/n: turned myself on 💀 LIKES, COMMENTS, REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

[mrsbarnesblog]

i can't let you get hurt

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: You have just moved to New York, where your adopted brother Steve has been living for 5 years. Desperate to make new friends, you give the dating app another go. You didn’t even think that you would have to ask for help from the person who has not left your thoughts for the past month - your brother’s best friend.

Word count: 3.3k

Warnings: fluff, reader is Steve's adopted sister, mechanic Bucky, creepy behaviour, protective Bucky.

Author's note: Does anyone know if community labels are reducing the number of likes and reblogs? because my last post received a suspiciously small amount of notes🤔 but I'm afraid to remove them because Tumblr might decide to block me again

Moving to New York was the idea that has been sitting in your head for a long period of time. Since your adopted brother Steve finished high school, he moved there without any money, without friends, and only with a lot of desires and dreams. You stayed in your small town with your and Steve’s adopted parents because you were only fifteen at the time. It’s been almost five years, and right now he owns an auto repair shop, and as far as you know, it’s a pretty successful place.

You knew that you had nothing to lose; you had no opportunities in your city, no close friends, and it was a really boring and gray life.

Steve only visited you two times, but you regularly spoke on the phone. So when your plane finally landed and you met him, you were kind of a crying mess. He was still your closest person, and you loved him with your whole heart. Steve was now much bigger, with broad shoulders and arms that were probably the same size as your head, but he still had that golden retriever energy, which you really loved.

Steve helped you find your apartment building, where you rented a small and cozy flat from a nice old lady. It wasn’t too much—just a bedroom and living room connected with a tiny kitchen and bathroom. Everything was clean, with light furniture and a lot of plants. It was actually surprising that this place had an affordable rent, and you were happy that luck was on your side.

On the next day, your brother finally showed you his famous place, which he owned with his now best friend Bucky Barnes. And talking about him, he was something else. A tall, big man with fluffy chocolate hair, stubble, and the most beautiful blue eyes you've ever seen. You knew that you were fucked as soon as he looked you directly in the eyes, shook your hand, and gave you a charming smile.

You met almost everyone in the garage. All the guys were super nice and friendly, they even showed you all of their cars that they were working with. You were happy that Steve found such a family here, they were all obviously so close to each other. 

Yet, after a month here, you had almost no friends. You found a job in the coffee shop down the street, where you met an amazing redhead girl named Wanda. You chatted a lot during the work, but you two were still far from friends.

That's how you ended up here. On a date with John.

For some reason, you decided to give that stupid dating app another try. John found you there, and he seemed nice, so when on the second day he decided to invite you to a bar, you agreed without hesitation.

How long has it been since the last time someone asked you out? Year?  Yes, it was a little sad to realize that no one was particularly interested in you. Before moving to New York, all the guys you talked to seemed to only want one thing, so you had high hopes for John.

Your evening went well at first. You ordered a drink and chatted. He really seemed nice. After the second drink, you decided to stop for a bit because the alcohol started to make you feel dizzy, even though John was persuading you to taste more of the cocktails that he had brought you .

"You know, I think I better slow down with drinks; I really don’t want to be drunk and embarrass myself on the first date." You pushed your glass back a little, smiling politely.

"Oh, c'mon, baby, don’t upset me." John chuckled and put his hand on yours. You awkwardly smiled, not ready for such physical contact. "You’re here alone, right?" He tilted his head, and you didn't miss how his eyes stopped at your boobs.

"Um, not exactly... I mean, I know like five people in this city, and one of them is my brother. But we don’t live together; he has his own life." John nodded his head and leaned a little closer to you.

"So it means that we can have some fun, right, baby?"

"Fun?" 

"Mhm." One of his hands stayed on top of yours, and the other one suddenly fell on your leg. Your body tensed at the feeling of his fingers as they started to rub the bare skin of your inner thigh. You definitely didn’t expect it to happen. "I’ll take an Uber; we’ll go to my place, and we can continue our night. What do you think?"

"I didn’t want to—I mean, that’s not what I was looking for—I thought that we were going to just talk and drink, you know…" You tried to take his hand off of you, but his grip only became harder.

"Don’t try to run away now, baby." He grinned. "You dressed up for me, huh? Your tight little dress that shows your boobs says it all. You just want me." You felt goosebumps all over your body because of his look. It was intense and not as innocent as it was before. You felt disgusted because of his words. You wanted to look good, yes, but seducing him wasn’t part of your plan.

So what are you going to do now? You felt unsafe, and you didn’t know how you could escape this situation. He was obviously a creep, and he just wanted to have sex with you. You can’t go home because either he won't let you go or he might find out where you live.

 "O-okay- um- just let me- I’ll go to the restroom real quick, and we can go, okay?" You nervously smiled and stood up, almost spilling your cocktail.

"Someone’s excited, huh?" He laughed, looking at your body up and down.

You left without an answer. You really went to the restroom because the bar was half empty, and John would’ve definitely seen you going out. Luckily, the restroom was empty. You locked the door and looked at yourself in the mirror for a few seconds, trying to figure out what to do.

You reached into your purse to get your phone. The first person that came to mind was Steve. Only long beeps were heard, and after the third call, you gave up.

"Fuck, Steve, I really need you right now." You scrolled through your contacts again. It wasn’t a lie that you knew five people from New York. Steve was not answering his phone. Your neighbor Natasha and Wanda from work, were not your close friends, so it would’ve been weird to call them because of this. There was a number of an old lady who rented you an apartment, and she was obviously not an option. And there was another person.

Bucky.

Calling him in this situation was the last thing you wanted to do. Hell, he probably won’t even answer you because he thinks that you’re just his best friend’s little sister, and he’ll definitely make fun of you about this stupid date. But you had no other variants.

"Hello?" He picked up his phone almost immediately, and you even forgot what you wanted to say. "Y/N? Are you okay?" His deep voice was full of worry, and you couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach.

"H-hey, Bucky. Um… I’m really, really sorry that I’m calling you, but Steve is not picking up his phone. Do you know where he is?" You walked around the small room, trying to calm down.

"Yeah, he’s meeting with some girl he's been talking about for days. He’s probably really busy right now." He chuckled, and you felt like you were about to cry. Bucky must’ve heard your breathing change because he immediately went silent. "Doll? What happened?"

"My God, it’s so stupid…" You squeezed your eyes, not wanting to cry.

"Tell me." 

"I’m at the bar. I’m on a date with a guy named John, and he became very persistent. He wants me to go to his place, but It’s- I’m not interested in this. And I can't just leave because I’m afraid that he can follow me and find out where I live… fuck I really don’t know what to do, and I wanted to ask Steve to pick me up." Your phone stayed silent for a few moments, and you already thought that he got tired of your mess and just ended the call. "Bucky?"

"Where are you? What bar? Are you in the restroom?" His voice was low, and you knew that he wasn’t happy with all of this.

"It’s that new place a few blocks away from my crib. With big neon red signs at the top. And I’m in the restroom right now."

"I’ll be there in five. Stay there and don’t open the door until you know it’s me." He said that and ended the call, leaving you nervous and excited at the same time.

The loud knock on the door almost made you jump. Fastly, but quietly, you reached there and tried to listen for any signs of who it could be.

"I hear you. Open the door; it’s me." The familiar voice came from behind the door.

You opened the door and met Bucky’s beautiful blue eyes. He seemed a little bit out of breath, as if he had run here. You quickly scanned his body, and the fact that he was wearing your favorite leather jacket made you weak in the knees. His dark brown locks that curled at the ends almost asked you to touch them. It was not your fault that this idiot always looked ridiculously hot every single time. 

"C’mon, let’s get you home, doll." He grabbed your hand, leading you out of the bathroom to the bar, where you immediately saw a clearly annoyed John. You saw that Bucky looked at him too, but he stopped only when you were already on the street and when your bad date ran after you, loudly calling your name. 

"Hey! Where the fuck are you going? We were supposed to go to my place! You already found someone else to fuck or what?" He yelled, grabbing your other hand at the same time. You felt Bucky quickly move you behind him while still holding your wrist. 

"Don’t fucking touch her. She’s leaving, and if I ever see you near her again, I'll rip your useless hands off. Understood?" Bucky growled, straightening his body. He was obviously bigger than John, who was now less brave. John looked at you for a few seconds as he was thinking about what he should say to you, but then just turned around and left. Apparently, you weren't worth it.

You didn’t know whether it was the cool night air or this whole tense situation that made you tremble. You felt Bucky’s warm body get closer to you, and his large, calloused hand rested on your shoulder. It made you feel a little bit fuzzy because you were trying so hard to hide your little (big) crush on your brother’s best friend. Yeah, it was the biggest cliche, but you couldn’t even blame yourself. He was extremely beautiful, with those blue eyes, rosy lips, and a body that you knew was built like God's. Not to mention that Bucky was sweet and a true gentleman.

"You’re shaking, doll. Wait a second." He started to take off his jacket, and you tried to stop him.

"Bucky, no, what are you doing? You don’t have to; it’s not even that cold!" He just playfully rolled his eyes and still threw a jacket over your shoulders, leaving himself only in the tight black shirt. God, this man.

A sudden wave of his cologne surrounded you. Bucky always smelled good. Something clean with a spicy and woody scent. The leather was still warm from his body, and you fought against the desire to bury your nose in it. You didn't even realize that you actually did it, so when you opened your eyes, you saw Bucky, who had this annoying grin on his face.

"So you like it, huh?" He chuckled. 

"Oh, shut up. I didn't want to do that."

"Of course, doll. But we should go, I have to take you home safely, right?" Bucky said, leading you to the parking lot. To a motorcycle.

"A motorcycle?" You asked Bucky as you stepped closer to him. "No, I—where’s your car? I’ve never ridden on one of those." He had already sat there and had two helmets in his hands.

"I left it in the garage and didn’t want to make you wait here for too long. But you don’t have to worry; I know what I'm doing, and I'll take care of you. I promise." You came closer to him and let him put a helmet on you. You really tried not to tremble as his hands gently fixed it under your chin. "Now sit behind me and put your legs here." He pointed at the weird looking thing.

You felt weird as soon as you sat in the passenger seat. Bucky was so close, and you could feel the warmth of his body even if it was cold outside. Where should I put my hands? Hug him? Put it behind me? You awkwardly placed it on your own legs, and Bucky must’ve immediately felt your tense body because you heard a chuckle, and the next moment he grabbed your hands and put it around his waist. "You should put it right here, doll. You don’t wanna fall, do you?"

You slightly shook your head before you placed it on his back. It was really hard to control yourself when your hands were laying on his hard press. For fuck’s sake, he should be perfect everywhere, huh?

"Hold on tight, Darlin'." You heard another deep chuckle, and he finally put his helmet on.

You don't know how long you were driving, but when Bucky finally pulled up outside your apartment building, you felt sad and happy at the same time. The ride was something else. This man almost gave you a heart attack when you stopped at a red light and he put his hand on your bare leg and asked if you were okay.

He’s just being nice, stop overthinking this.

You knew Bucky for only one month, but it was hard not to fall for him. He was an attractive, kind, and really generous man; you knew that he was like a part of Steve's family. Sometimes, when you visited your brother and accidentally met Bucky, for a few seconds you thought that maybe he finds you attractive. You always caught him looking at you.

But you knew this type of guy—always charming and flirting—who could have pretty much anyone. It was stupid of you to think that he saw you as something more than just Steve’s little sister.

"See, I told you that I was a good driver and that you'd get home safely." He hopped off the motorcycle and stood before you while you were trying to take the helmet off. "Let me unlock it."

"Thank you, Bucky." You said when you were finally free. "For this, for the jacket... You were probably very busy, and I just ruined your night by making you take care of me. Oh my god, I’m really sorry. I just wanted to forget about one person, and I thought that going on that stupid date would be a good idea, but it seems like the only thing that men want here is sex." You chuckled and watched to the ground.

"Now listen to me, doll." Bucky suddenly stepped closer to you, and you almost fainted when both of his hands took your face and forced you to look him right in the eyes. "You shouldn’t apologize for calling me. I was just hanging out with the guys from the garage, but as soon as you called me, I left everything because I can’t let you get hurt." He nervously licked his lips, and you hope that he didn’t notice how you stared at this movement. Bucky’s hands left your face and ended up on your upper arms. Did he come closer to me? "I don’t know who you were trying to forget about, but I hope that he or she is worth your time."

"We– we’re not really close. I’m probably not even his type." You shrugged. Bucky’s jaw clenched, and he buried his hands in the jeans pockets, as if he was angry and tried not to show you. As soon as he made a distance between you two, you body started trembling.

"Is it someone from the garage?" His head was a little bit tilted to the side, and you knew that right now he wouldn’t shut up about it until you gave him a name. "Maybe Sam? Or Thor? Many girls like him, you know. Do you like show-offs like Stark? Or…"

"You."

You both were silent.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. What were you thinking?

"Say it again." Your throat felt dry, and you just stared at him, not knowing what to do. 

"I– Just forget about it, Bucky. It’s stupid–"

You weren't able to finish because a soft pair of lips interrupted you. One of Bucky’s hands cupped your face, lifting you up to his level, and another one laid on your waist. He was soft, warm, and gentle when his lips moved on top of yours. Your head was in the clouds, and it felt like your knees became weaker. You wrapped your arms around Bucky’s neck, completely melting into him. He wanted to stay like this forever. Your skin and your lips were so soft, he could smell your perfume and taste your sweet lip gloss. But he knew that he should stop and do it the right way. After a few seconds, he finally pulled away, but he put his forehead on yours, and it was so cozy, like you two were in a bubble.

"I’m sorry. Was this too much? I overstepped?" He licked his lips as if he were trying to get more of your taste. "I have been thinking about asking you out since the day I saw you. I wanted to do it right. To take you on a date, to be the gentleman that you deserve, and maybe get a kiss on the cheek at the end of the night. Sorry. I didn’t even know that you liked me." Bucky wrapped his hands around your waist, and you nuzzled into his neck, enjoying his scent.

"And I didn’t know that you liked me either. I thought that you felt obligated to take care of me because I'm your best friend’s sister."

"No, I promise you." He kissed the top of your head. "But Steve’s gonna kill me, by the way. He told all of us that you’re not an option and that we can’t touch you."

"Well, I love him, but he can’t decide for me."

"So… Does this mean that you’ll say ‘yes’ if I ask you to go on a date with me? On Sunday, maybe?" You lifted your head to look at him properly, and God, he was so cute when he was nervous.

"Of course, Buck, I wanna go out with you." You smiled at him, and he lowered himself again to give you another sweet kiss on the lips.

"Fuck, you should go home, doll. You’re too sweet for your own good. Wanna keep you all for myself." He mumbled against your lips. "Go."

"Goodnight, Bucky. Please text me when you get home, ‘kay?"

"I will. Goodnight, Doll." You left a soft kiss on his stubbled cheek before finally turning around to go home.

Only at home did you realize that you were still wearing his jacket. At least it was a good excuse for Bucky to see you again sooner. That night, you both ended up texting for hours until you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

Maybe a date with John wasn’t that bad of an idea.

[delirious-donna]

A Kiss But At What Cost? [Part Seven]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: The time calls for a movie night and one you’ll be sure to rope Kento into. A good old-fashioned slasher movie sounds just right, but how will the end of the night go once you’re all spooked out?

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: SFW, fluff, two oblivious idiots, yet more emotions, bad communication, mentions of horror movies and tropes, if you can tell me what the movie at the end is you get a gold star

Part Six | Series Masterlist | Part Eight

Popcorn? Check. Cozy blanket? Acquired.

“Hm…” You hummed quietly, turning on the spot in the living room. The lights were set low, the thickest of the blankets from the basket in the corner ready for you to crawl beneath for your movie night, but something was missing.

A drink, of course.

Padding back into the kitchen, you bent your head to investigate the contents of the fridge, debating on a Diet Coke or a beer. The noise of someone clearing their throat made you jump, bumping your head into the door of the fridge in the action of whirling around.

“Ouch!”

Kento winced before quickly schooling his features into neutrality. You turned with a frown etched on your brow, and he couldn’t blame you for it this time. Moving forward, he stood by your side to reach inside and a grab out a bottle of beer, popping the top easily.

Your scowl deepened, more annoyed at the flutter in your stomach at his ease of opening the beer without even looking at the damn thing. “Aren’t you going to apologise?”

“Sorry,” he said with a shrug. “I didn’t think you’d still be so jumpy this far into our little arrangement.” He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a quick sip, eyes moving to the ceiling which presented you with the open opportunity to watch whilst his throat worked to swallow the frothy liquid, his Adam’s apple bobbing deliciously.

“Yeah yeah, whatever.”

A thought leapt from the recesses of your brain, and your pout turned into a wicked smile before he could blink. How would mr ‘stick-in-the-mud’ cope with a couple of scary movies? It would be beyond hilarious if he turned out to be a scaredy cat given his imposing stature and presence, and the chance to find out was too delicious to pass up.

“Got plans this evening?” you asked with an expression you hoped looked nonchalant. Before he could answer, you pulled out a can of Diet Coke and cracked open the ring pull with a low hiss.

“None to speak of. Why?”

Your hand linked through his arm with a wide grin, pulling him away from the kitchen to the cozy little nook you’d crafted for your movie spree. You gestured towards it with a theatrical “ta dah” and glanced up to meet eyes of hazel alight with confusion and a hint of intrigue, if you weren’t much mistaken.

“What’s this? You’ve made a… nest on my couch,” Kento guessed, scanning the bowl of popcorn and bar of unopened chocolate resting on the faraway arm. He wasn’t so stupid not to realise that this was clearly a movie night, but he was doing his damnedest not to think too much about your hand curled around his bicep. One wrong move and you might take that touch away, and he didn’t want that, not yet.

“Wow. Don’t tell me you didn’t watch movies with Karin growing up, because I know it’ll be a lie. That girl is more of a film buff than I am, no way you escaped that.”

Kento scoffed. “You’re correct. I did not escape, though there were many times I sorely wish I had. If I have to watch When Harry met Sally one more time, I might do something drastic,” he admitted with a laugh.

“Not a fan of romcoms, Nanami?”

“I didn’t say that, and it’s Kento, stop changing it back. There are a few that I can…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Tolerate, I guess.”

Your eyebrows rose in clear curiosity. Slipping your hand out of his arm, you rounded the couch and settled next to your snacks to pat the seat next to you in invitation. Kento swallowed, a wash of heat licking up both sides of his neck and he fought the urge to pull at the neck of his sweater.

“I don’t have any romcoms on the menu for tonight, sadly…” You added just to see his eyes narrow and his lips thin in displeasure. “Come join me, please? I’ll even share my popcorn.”

A moment passed where you simply stared at one another, your heart in your throat at the thought of being rejected, but it didn’t come to pass. Kento took another swig of beer and made his way to you, sinking into the couch with a sigh of resignation that didn’t sound genuine at all. You hid your smile behind the can in your hand, twisting to look at him and meeting determined eyes.

Kento crossed an ankle over his knee, settling against the cushions. “I’ll pass on the popcorn, too noisy,” he teased, smirking when you blew a raspberry in his direction. “So, if it’s not lovey-dovey nonsense, what are we watching?”

He should have taken the wide, almost twisted grin as a hint, but once again he was oblivious to your devious ways. What a fool he was. Except, in the long run, you were the one who would have something to worry about…

~

A piercing scream tore through the sound system, followed immediately by one of your own, although thankfully not as loud. You pulled the blanket to your face, covering your eyes from the gore feast on the screen. It didn’t help that you could hear Kento chuckling by your side. So much for the idea that he might be the one taking the starring role as scream queen… dammit.

The first movie had been a classic, one you had both seen before and it was nice to be able to laugh along with your handsome companion at the overused tropes featured in many of the slasher movies from the eighties and nineties. Groaning almost in sync when the lead female chose to run deeper into the house than take the open door that led outside and booing when the killer miraculously managed to traverse the same distance as the comic relief sidekick without even breaking into a light jog.

It gave you time to indulge in conversation as well as keeping pace with the plot. You shoved him playfully when he refused to indulge your curiosities as to which, in his words, lovey-dovey movies he enjoyed. Not even your best pleading puppy eyes could get him to relent, the curl of his lips so telling of his enjoyment at your frustration.

However, he did share some juicy tidbits about his sister that you were sure to tuck away and use to embarrass Karin at a later date. She more than deserved it given that other than one short and snappy text message, you hadn’t heard from her in all the time you had been staying here. Some friend. The bluster was all feigned when you examined it, and you refused to dig any deeper.

Karin and Kento were so different you would have never guessed they were related, yet you liked them for completely different reasons. You wondered if you would keep in touch once… no, it couldn’t be like that, and you knew it deep down. This was a temporary situation that would be forgotten soon enough, you lied to yourself with a long swallow of your drink. It wasn’t worth ruining the evening by moping. Deciding it was for the best, regardless of what your heart tried to yell, you forced the feelings into a box and refocused on the here and now.

It warmed your heart to watch as Kento slowly relaxed further, his limbs losing the tension from when he first joined you, an arm draped along the back of the couch and his beer balanced on his thigh, hand loose around the glass bottle dripping in condensation. He was pretty funny when he wanted to be, making you nearly choke on your drink several times over when he offered his bitingly sarcastic commentary on the situation on screen. At times you thought his ears even looked a little red, but you couldn’t be sure given the lack of lighting. If it was true, then it was adorable that he got enjoyment from your genuine reactions to his jokes.

With the second movie fast approaching the climax of the horror, you regretted the decision to ramp things up. Most of the movie you had spent tucked tightly beneath the blanket covering your lap, squeaking at every little jump scare and even more so when Kento moved unsuspectedly. All of it was ammunition to the laughter Kento levelled at your expense, and more than once you reached out to smack at his arm with him feigning noises of hurt when you knew very well it was the lightest of touches.

Oh, he was a menace alright.

Kento, not for the first time during your stay, felt like he hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. He watched your bravado disappear in the face of a movie you weren’t familiar with, and tried not to think too deeply when he felt the desire to pull you into the side of his body. It wasn’t worth the headache. His beer was long finished, and his hands felt too empty, fingers twitching against his thigh and pinching at the stitched seam of the couch to distract himself from what he knew would be inappropriate thoughts. He would not sully this evening with his own selfish desires.

You shrieked once more when the villain popped out unexpectedly, however, this time you lunged sideways and buried your face into his arm that lay between you both. He nearly yelped himself, barely holding back the strangle of surprise when your nose rubbed into his bicep and your small fingers curled around his forearm. His heart rested in his throat, glancing down with wide eyes and almost missing when you spoke in a hushed whisper.

“Tell me when this bit is over.”

Tentatively, he lifted his arm and your hold tightened as if he were trying to shake you off. Kento murmured a gruff affirmation and refocused on the TV. You dared to lift your chin, blinking at his unwavering expression fixed straight ahead whilst he settled his arm around your shoulders and gently drew you closer. His jaw clenched, and you nearly backed away despite your heart hammering in your chest from the movie playing, but when his fingertips rubbed gently against your upper arm… it was game over.

You melted into his side, inhaling the scent of his expensive cologne surreptitiously and smiling into the soft knit of his sweater at the lingering aroma of coffee that infused his clothes. Clearly, he was a man that ran hot given the output he was currently kicking out and the longer you remained in this position, the less you felt like the blanket was necessary. It was far from unpleasant, in fact, you longed to wrap yourself in his warmth. Who needed a blanket when you could have him instead?

Closing your eyes, you smiled indulgently, knowing it would be hidden from view. This was nice—more than nice—it felt right. Like you belonged here, and you should make up for lost time by refusing to move when he inevitably tried to pry you off.

The moment didn’t come.

At last, when Kento signalled that you could look again, he didn’t make any move to shove you back to your corner of the couch as you had assumed he would. No, instead, he slouched deeper into the seat and rested his cheek atop your head like a boyfriend or a lover might do. It was comfortable, welcoming after all that had transpired in such a short space of time and honestly, you wished you had the courage to fist the front of his sweater and drag him into the desperate kiss you longed to bestow on his lips.

The walls that both you and Kento had built around yourselves were beginning to crumble like sandcastles being washed away by an approaching tide. The water was unstoppable, or so it seemed and the air in the room felt charged with possibilities.

The credits rolled and neither of you made a move. Kento held himself back for fear of something he couldn’t define, and you lacked the courage to be the first to act after the incident in the bar. Two idiots, that’s what you amounted to, and it was endlessly frustrating.

“I guess it’s time for bed,” Kento said, straightening in his seat but still making no effort to untangle you from his chest.

Alarmed, you jerked upwards and shook your head violently. “Oh no no no. There is no way you go straight to bed after horror movies!”

“I don’t plan on staying awake all night if that’s what you’re insinuating,” he countered with a sharp arch of one eyebrow. Your hand remained flush on his thigh now that you weren’t moulded into his body, and he did his best not to notice.

“No,” you pouted, exhaling loudly through your nose. “We watch something funny then go to bed. And you have to stay with me because…”

“… because you’re scared.”

You smacked him dead centre in his chest, rolling your eyes when his chuckle deepened into a rich baritone belly laugh that made your legs tremble. Thank god you were sitting down. “Shuddup.”

There was a part of you that wanted to retreat into his warmth, to make yourself a home in the space beneath his arm and listen to the beat of his heart until you found yourself too tired to resist the pull of sleep, but that was asking rather a lot.

Not for the first time, you wondered if he could read your mind, or if your thoughts were simply so obviously written across your face. Kento lifted the remote with his right hand and waved you towards him with the left. There was something unreadable in his expression, a tightness around the eyes and chiselled jawline. Again, you wondered how much of this he wanted to participate in, but the allure of his offer was too tempting to miss out on.

You resumed your position, legs tucked up and your torso leaning into the strong support of a man you were falling for. Fuck… why did it have to be like this? Closing your eyes for a moment’s reprieve, you resolved to do something about it—anything—because living this way, with these feelings and desires was taking its toll.

“That one,” you piped up when Kento passed over a movie you knew inside out. You convinced yourself that a good laugh would solve all your immediate problems and wriggled into a more comfortable position. The other matter could wait until the morning.

“A fine choice,” he murmured more to himself than anything. A smile returned to his face when the familiar movie of an overzealous police officer deployed to the seemingly pristine British countryside for showing up the city force began to play on the screen.

An hour in and your delightful laughter had stopped. Kento felt the rhythm of your breathing deepen, a swivel of his eyes told him exactly why—you were fast asleep. He gazed at your sleeping face for longer than he realised, his neck stiffening from the awkward position but not caring for the dull ache. Your features were smooth, relaxed in a peaceful slumber. There was no sign of your trepidation following the scary movies and he smiled gratefully.

You were so pretty. The truth of those words cemented into his brain, and he doubted anything could dissuade him. He couldn’t remember a time when he had gazed longingly at a previous girlfriend or lover like he was right now. There was something different about you, and yet so right that he ached to admit it out loud. Ever since the woman in the museum had mistaken you for a couple, offering advice that seemed to be tailor made specifically for his worries, he couldn’t get the idea of opening up out of his head.

His fingers graced the apple of your cheek, stroking your skin delicately like the flutter of a butterfly’s wing. Your face turned into the soft affection, a long comforting sigh exhaled through slightly parted lips and Kento fell even further. Why couldn’t he have met you under normal circumstances? A memory of your frantic flailing when he surprised you in his bathtub brought humour to his heart rather than the mortification of the day itself. It certainly made for an interesting story…

It took longer than it should for Kento to realise the movie had ended. Black velvet darkness decorated the quiet room, voyeuristic shadows clinging to the walls from the dark light of the blank television screen, still on but with nothing to display. The silent witnesses watched on whilst his heart beat faster and faster, head moving closer to your face until his lips brushed your forehead with heartfelt reverence.

The kiss was momentary, one singular frame in the grand scheme of his life, but to Kento, it felt like the defining moment. His old life, daily routine, the endlessly long hours at work, working out every morning simply to fit the aesthetic he believed to be the most suited to his lifestyle, it all seemed completely meaningless.

He thought of the books that lined the shelves of his office, most still unread. The places he dreamed of visiting—far flung countries with soft white sandy beaches, foreign cities with beautiful architecture to explore and even places closer to home that he never had time to venture to. How much of life was he missing out on? The food he could sample. The interests he could test out to see if any stuck, the people he could make friends with, the woman he could love…

Shit.

You were changing his entire world, and you had no fucking clue. He shouldn’t have kissed you. That realisation burned into him with vigour, the blazing inferno of his self-loathing at taking something that was not freely given, churned his stomach. Should he wake you and admit what he had done? No, it wasn’t fair to you.

Kento manoeuvred himself into a position to reach beneath your thighs, lifting you with ease into his arms and you didn’t even jostle at the movement. His eyes never left your face as you nuzzled into his chest, small fingers holding onto the fine threads of his sweater as if you were scared to lose your place, to lose your security. He wished he could be that for you, but he wasn’t sure if he was strong enough.

With the utmost care, he placed you into your bed, carefully unpicking your fingers and pressing the sheets into your palm as replacement before tucking them around you. Kento smiled when you murmured something unintelligible in your sleep, turning onto your side and burying your nose into your pillow with a gentle moan that spoke of nothing but comfort and peace. Despite kicking himself for the earlier kiss he had stolen without permission or consent, he found his nose and lips nestled in your hair once more. Again, the kiss was fleeting, and he stood to his full height and wished you a pleasant sleep under his breath before closing your door and disappearing behind his own.

He had a lot to think about, some decisions to make that could alter the course of his life and it was likely that not much sleep would come to him this night despite his earlier conviction that he wouldn’t be awake all night.

Sighing heavily, he scrubbed a palm down his weary face until he could catch his reflection in the bathroom mirror, the strain evident in his features.

“What do I do?”

[lymmsweb]

Hi! I don't know if you're taking requests yet, but I was wondering if you could do headcanons or scenarios about Ghost / Soap / König having a crush on a recruit girl who is a very skilled sniper, but constantly underestimated by other military personnel for being short and deaf / mute

Simon “Ghost” Riley

John “Soap” Mactavish

Words: 537

Tws: misoginy, bullying

A/N: i only did being short and mute because im pretty sure if you’re deaf you can’t serve in the military!! Also i wrote the muteness to at least allow you to talk because it'd be very dangerous to serve in the military and not able to communicate a bit on comms.

Totally didn't take me 4months to come back and i didn't do Konig cuz i dont know enough about his character

Simon “Ghost” Riley

When he first met you he underestimated you too, it wasn’t intentional but he just couldn’t help but doubt you and your abilities.

He took you under his wing to make sure you were keeping up with everyone but after you saved his ass multiple times on missions, all his worries quickly went away and he started respecting you a lot more.

After a couple months he started to get closer and closer to you he started noticing how most of the men wouldn’t take you seriously and often pick on you. It upset him quite a bit knowing he was one of these men at one point, so if he was around and men would pick on you he’d give them a stern lecture and give death glares whenever he’d pass them again in the future

He would always bring you along as back up on missions, you were one of the best snipers he could get his hands on and he felt safer knowing you were watching his back. He even grew to enjoy your company, not minding the silence he would always be met with, if anything he found it much more relaxing than anything.

Ghost started noticing that he liked you after he defended you from a man that was saying misogynistic things towards you, he hated the way you looked after receiving the insults and not being able to defend yourself. He didn’t know why he felt the urge to protect you, it was like love was a new emotion being discovered after years of not feeling in love with someone.

John "Soap" MacTavish

He was one of the few men that were nice to you right off the bat. After missions he would always go to find you and give tips on how to improve and what you did wrong.

You grew on him very quickly, often being paired up with him meant that he had all the opportunities to hit you with his corny jokes and you not being able to do much about it.

He would accidentally slip up some jokes about you and your size when drunk, not really caring about how loud he was at the bar. It earned laughs from his men, it felt good at first but when they started slipping sexist comments it sobered him right up.

After the bar incident, he started picking up on how your comrades viewed you. He started to feel disgusted about how they didn't respect you or your strengths or you achievement, in his eyes he started to lose respect towards them.

He started to talk about you to everyone, mentioning how great you are and how people should give you a chance. This started to rub off on people as more and more men started to at the very least stop picking on you.

It was after a couple weeks of a non stop cycle of improving your social status and you saving his life on multiple missions that he finally realized he was crushing on you. However now this meant that he started acting like a lost puppy around you, always by your side one way or another. Someone would have to be blind to not notice his growing crush.

[thelarriefics]

SUMMER FIC REC, Part II: Below you will find fics that take place in the summer, or have summer scenes. (Part I)

📖 On The Horizon by FitzAndLarry (261k)

Drunk, loose, and excited on the first night of his two-week-long cruise, Doctor Harry Styles finds himself with a little extra company on what has turned out to be a lonely experience. Louis, the pilot who helped fly him across the Atlantic, is the object of his fling. Thus begins an adventure filled with laughter, sun, and trauma rearing its ugly head. Deadline on their companionship, the pair commit to enjoying their time - and Harry, the screw-up he is, can't help but lose himself in the fantasy.

📖 love is a word, you gave it a name by @larrydoinglaundry (158k)

After two decades in brutal show business, Louis Tomlinson is trying to restore his tranquility of mind in the peace of Northern Europe where the sun barely sets, Maria's bar is always open, and young Harry has an irresistible spark in his eyes.

📖 blue moon by @aquietlarrie (152k)

or the self indulgent 50’s au where i wanted a safe space to explore the culture, history, and sexuality of being gay in a time when it was extremely difficult to do so. includes, lots of questionable dancing, healing your inner child, and one heck of an emotional ride.

📖 a cycle of recycled revenge by @broken-beaks (103k)

Or: The one where Harry likes to infuriate Louis almost as much as he enjoys straddling his lap.

📖 gloominess of summer days by @adoremelikeasunflower19 (90k)

Following a devastating and unexpected split, Harry finds himself rewarded by the mysterious ways of Faith in the form of an inheritance of his Uncle’s house in a distant country Wolveheuls. Dismissing his initial scepticism, he chooses to seize the opportunity. He starts a journey of self-discovery, relearning the meaning of loving and being loved, moving on from the painful past, and making his place within the eccentric small-town community. Between his efforts, his path crosses with Louis Tomlinson, a town native, known for his ridiculous number of jobs, incomparable wit, and profound adoration for the cottage lifestyle.

📖 Summer's in the air and baby, heaven's in your eyes by @starryhaze28 (82k)

or a 70s tennis au filled with skirts, pet names and intrigue

📖 your memory over me by @shimmeringevil (64k)

The worst heartbreak of Louis’ life walks right back into it when his parents invite their family friends on an all-expenses-paid trip for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Facing a past that he tried to bury long ago, Louis learns that some people have a way of sticking with you even when they’re gone.

📖 hope your life leads you back to my door by wildestdreams (56k)

Harry Styles set out to be a doctor; a steady career and a good living is all a young person could ask for. What he hadn't set out to do was to spend his summer holiday on a trekking trip in Spain with a group of people he barely knew. And he certainly didn’t plan on having his heart stolen by Louis Tomlinson, class clown, and secret crush, in such a way that he feared he might never find it again. ft. cheesy chat-up lines, a big desi wedding, falling in love, and growing up.

📖 A Golden Goal by a_momentwitme (55k)

"Even they, as free as you think they are, don't always get to love like this, in the true meaning of the word, of the feeling. Not some diluted version that some settle with for their entire lifetime. I mean love in its purest form, which still grows every day despite the problems, barriers and annoying habits you discover in your partner. A love that refills your heart after you pour it out or makes you go on during your worst days, knowing that your best is expecting you at home."

📖 where the tide takes you, i will follow by @pinkcords (53k)

Louis lives in Gloucester and Harry tries to find a way to stay.

📖 sent by the sun by @givesuethemoon (51k)

In 1970s Los Angeles, Harry is a groupie who aches to feel alive. Louis is the lead singer of a rock band who aches to know him.

📖 Suddenly Last Summer by @disgruntledkittenface (44k)

Louis is bored, rich and lonely. He has no reason to expect that this summer in the Hamptons with his friends will be different from any other – until he meets Harry. Suddenly he has someone who listens to him and cares about what he thinks. Someone who really sees him. But their happily ever after is forever marred by an incident at a party during Labor Day weekend, and Louis is left with a choice to make.

📖 Awake Dear Heart, Awake by She_bear (35k)

Cute, fun, sexy and at times emotional AU where Harry and Louis meet as strangers on holiday in Greece and find themselves stuck on a remote beach together. An initial misunderstanding gets them off to a bad start. Both at a turbulent point in their lives, they are forced to confront their internal struggles and of course each other.

📖 He Still Takes My Breath Away by @parmahamlarrie (32k)

 the one where Harry is a lifeguard and Louis is the head of recreation. And, sometimes, you just need a little push to realize what was right in front of you the whole time.

📖 Bitter Ends Turn Sweet by @allwaswell16 (30k)

It had been four years since Harry first heard the song his ex wrote about him and far longer since they broke up. He forgave Louis long ago, and now his life was focused on his career, his family, and especially his son, Max. But Louis was back in Chicago, after all this time, and he’s not an easy man to ignore. Or a songfic inspired by the song Chicago

📖 Dancing With Masks by @softfonds (18k)

With awards season coming up and new films on the way for both of them, Harry and Louis' managers decide it's time for them to date for publicity. They don't mind, given that they are best friends and have known each other for ages. Besides, after years of sexual tension built into a fake relationship for press, what could possibly go wrong?

📖 Come on in, the water's fine by @greenblueish (9k)

or, the one where Louis is set on enjoying his last summer jobbing abroad as tourist entertainer and it only gets better when a mysterious hotel guest with overly expensive sunglasses keeps coming back for his drink recommendations.

📖 Black Leather, Blue Lace by @insightfulinsomniac (8k)

aka: a pwp in which new soulmates farmer!Louis and city girl!Harry are filthy exhibitionists.

📖 Near You Now by @beyondxmeasure (8k)

When a leaky bathroom sink turns into a minor flood, Harry has to act fast. So, he thinks of the closest (and most unlikely) way to find home repair help… Grindr. The last thing he expects from this quick fix is to find anything long-term.

📖 now i'm tracin' all my steps to you by @alwaysxlarrie (5k)

Of all the things Harry was prepared for this summer, Louis Tomlinson and his wonderful, wonderful scent isn't one of them. It probably shouldn't be as shocking as it is that it makes Harry want to nest. There's only one slight problem -- Harry and nesting aren't exactly on familiar terms. At all. This does not stop Harry from borrowing ("borrowing") Louis' things all throughout summer, though. Oops?

[pastanest]

if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to the very lovely friends who have relentlessly sifted through tumblr archives to recover them, thank you all so much!! ♡

Legolas & Aragorn - You Give Him The Silent Treatment

Legolas

- emotional cues are a little difficult for elves

- at first, Legolas doesnt even register that he’s done something to upset you. he assumes that for whatever reason, you want your own space for a while, and he doesnt mind that

- the tension between the two of you in passing is utterly lost to him, he genuinely doesnt even feel it because he’s an oblivious boy

- it’s only when his father, King Thranduil, alerts him of the situation that Legolas begins to understand

“The two of you had a disagreement and you refused to look at her while you were watching the hills, is this true?”

“Yes.”

“My son, when you talk to your love with eyes that linger anywhere but her, it will raise doubts from the grave that then torment her mind.”

“Oh.”

“Indeed.”

- Legolas went on a mission to find you after that, and it didnt take him long

- you were sitting under a tree, reading a book of spells

- Legolas sat down in front of you

“Melamin(My love), are you alright?”

- you hummed in response, refusing to lift your gaze from the book

- Legolas sighed

“I am deeply sorry for the pain I have caused by being so oblivious to your feelings, it was not my intent. Human emotion is a subject I am yet to master, but I am sure that verbal communication could resolve this, so what do you say?”

- you didnt say anything. you slammed your book shut, stood up and walked away from him

- alarm bells rang inside the young elf’s head, this was far worse than he anticipated

- he ran after you and grabbed your wrist with determination, but enough sense to be gentle in his gesture

“Please, do not part with me when the storm still follows you.”

- it was your turn to sigh

“What is there to say? You thought you resolved the issue of ignoring me in sight by ignoring me in every other sense.”

- Legolas finally understood, you felt neglected

“Lirimaer(Lovely one), I have been a dreadful partner to you in allowing you to believe such falsehoods. There is no existence I treasure more than yours! I swear on my mother’s last breath, I will do everything to show my adoration in further ways that you understand.”

- you turned to face him, your eyes finally meeting his for the first time in a week

- you smiled, and his heart sang songs of pure bliss as he pulled you into his arms

“Will you give me the opportunity to prove that I am worthy of caring for your heart?”

“Legolas, proving that would be fruitless; my heart is yours for eternity regardless of your actions.”

“Then I will do well to make that a blessing rather than a burden.”

Aragorn

- your relationship with Aragorn remained a secret during the time spent with the Fellowship

- you didnt want to be recognised as a distraction to Aragorn or a tag-along, you wanted to be treated as an equal member of the team

- but in keeping your relationship a secret, Aragorn was a free man to any woman’s eyes, including Éowyn

- considering the circumstances, you had no right to be angry at her advances, but they boiled the blood in your veins to a heat even that Balrog couldnt stand

- the final straw came when your beloved drank from a goblet presented to him by Éowyn, and once he had gone, her uncle congratulated her on establishing a romance with Aragorn

- you stormed out of the bar and Aragorn ran after you, the streets of Rohan were quiet while every voice that resided there was hollering in the bar, meaning there was no reason to hide

- Aragorn ran in front of you and stopped, holding your shoulders and trying to read your countenance as you avoided his eyes

“My love, what vengeance is it that fuels you this night?”

- you just shook your head and tried to break free from his grasp, Aragorn frowned

“You wish to escape me, am I the source of your rage?”

- you scoffed and lifted your gaze to look at him with fire in your eyes

“Your ‘love’ is among the sea of voices concealed by those walls, is she not? The fair maiden who stole your heart, may the skies bless the happy couple! It is not my business to interfere with a man who is spoken for, I beg your forgiveness and part with sweet sorrows!”

- with that, Aragorn released you and you hid yourself away at the inn

- Aragorn was shaken, he could not believe how careless he had been with your feelings

- in keeping your relationship a secret, he had broken his promise of protecting you from harm, and he was to blame for your anguish

- he visited the door of your room at the inn every single day, bringing you flowers and fruits he had picked himself, but you never answered the door

- on the seventh day, there was a gentle tap on the window that awoke you from a restless sleep

- you tried to fall back into your slumber, but another tap on the window disturbed you

- rubbing your eyes tiredly, you stepped out of bed and shuffled over to the window in your nightdress

- you frowned as you remembered you were on the second floor, nobody could reach you from the window, could they?

- pushing open the small wooden doors, you were greeted by the early morning sun, and the view of Aragorn standing on the grass below you, a collection of pebbles in his hand

- he grinned as he saw you, clearing his throat before he began to dramatically shout up at you

“And there she is! My sweet angel, the only mortal fairer than any elf could dream of being! The keeper of my heart, my sun, my sea, my skies - who need not bless the happy couple, because the happy couple is blessed enough to be!”

- a crowd began to gather around Aragorn as he drew attention to himself with his monologue, the Fellowship joined him at his sides, all of them appearing unsurprised by his confession, Pip and Merry even exchanging food in the form of a bet, had they known all this time?

- Éowyn watched on from a few feet away, appearing happy and also unsurprised, had Aragorn spoken to her about this?

- Aragorn looked at the ground in disdain

“But I have wronged her, scorned her, brought tears to the delicate flower I promised to protect! I am a fool, not of a Took, but of a man!”

- he lifted his head to smile at you again

“It is I, who must beg your forgiveness, and I will do so in a way that reveals my heart’s devotions.”

- with that, Aragorn lowered himself to his knees, everyone in the crowd gasping, your eyes widening as you covered your mouth with your hands

- Aragorn raised his hands to you in a prayer position

“Will you give a beggar one last kiss?”

- you grinned and ran from the window, out of the door to your room, down the stairs and out of the inn, directly into the (still kneeling) Aragorn, who immediately wrapped his arms around you

- you kissed him with passion that was perhaps inappropriate given the number of witnesses, but neither of you seemed to care

- when you pulled away from each other, you were breathless, and Aragorn grinned

“Was that the last kiss?”

- you shook your head

“The first of many.”

[moongreenlight]

U already KNOW what time it is baybee!!!! WIP WEDNESDAY!

Been riding the Gaz high and this has been in the works recently (I wrote 2k words yesterday) so here's this!

Director!Gaz x Actress!Reader

Summary: It’s the mid-1970’s and you’ve recently made the unshocking discovery that it’s difficult to find good work acting. Lucky you stumble on the wrong opportunity at the right time!

You’re not dumb enough to fall for the advertisements in the papers looking for actors in ‘up and coming independent films.’ Not anymore.

After being burned so many times by ‘pay to audition’ schemes and sleazy directors only looking to collect videotapes of girls doing porno auditions, you gave up on that front.

But what’s the stipulation on extenuating circumstances? Like when you’re working at a bar a few blocks away from the community theater and a man comes up and sits at the counter all by himself.

He’s gorgeous and a sweet talker. Seems intent on chatting with you even though you really should be polishing glassware. And once he’s finally caught you in his snare, he drops a bomb that up until this point you’d only ever heard stories about.

He says he’s a small-time director and he saw you in the last production the theatre put on. He laughs and makes a lighthearted self-deprecating joke about being “one of those wankers in the paper” to which you wrinkle your nose and give him a weary smile.

But, Jesus, if he can’t make a bad thing good. He’s got all the makings of a politician the way he’s able to talk circles around you until you agree to show up to an audition for his latest project. ‘Trouble in paradise’ or something to that tune.

He tips you twenty pounds and his business card on a coke he barely touches. Uses your pen to write your audition time on the back of the card.

Wednesday at 11a. x

He doesn’t give back the pen.

Your roommates do no good talking you out of it. Hushing your half-arsed arguments about scams and serial killers and all kinds of things. It ends with the four of you in a pile on the couch, wine-drunk and giggling yourselves into hysterics.

So two days later you go. Forcing your roommates to promise no less than five times that if you’re not heard from in an hour that they’ll send in the authorities.

You find your way to the address on the card that now looks tired in comparison to when you first got it. The edges are fussy and dog-eared from your worrying with it and passing it around to prove its legitimacy.

It doesn’t look like any studio or office you’ve seen. Far from. And that should have been the final nail in the coffin. Should have been the reason you turned tail and went back home. But something pulled you up the worn steps of the house. That same something, now cowering a bit at the looming possibility, brought you to rap your knuckles sharply on the part of the door with a few different layers of paint chipped away to expose the cheap metal underneath.

You’re left standing on the stoop for a few moments too long with no answer. And just as you were about to come to your senses and return home with some sliver of your dignity still intact; the door swung inward and exposed the same man from the bar - Kyle - with his horrible, beautiful, toothy smile.

“Thought you were going to stand me up. Wouldn’t have known what to do with myself.”

You catch yourself thinking it’s a shame that he’s directing and not starring in movies. His devastating good-looks and all. Must be a terrible read.

There’s a card table set up in the living room. Two folding chairs behind it that look flimsy at best. Three thick packets that have been three-hole punched on the side, but held together by a binder clip in the top center.

The rest of the furniture is pushed up against the wall. A hodge-podge of mismatched chairs and a sofa that very well could have been your grandmothers and a few banged-up side tables.

He offers water. Offers to take your purse. You decline both. Opt to stand a bit stiffly on the faded rug in the center of the room with your bag tucked snugly under your arm.

Maybe you should make a run for it. Maybe you were stupid to come at all. He’s a total stranger for Christ sake.

Before you can will your feet to move, there’s s bang from behind you. A screen door slamming shut and rattling on its hinges. It startles you almost a foot into the air.

“Nervous?”

Kyle is cool as ever, sliding into one of the chairs, waggling his eyebrows at you. It whines under his weight and you’re suddenly very aware of just how bulky he is. Doesn’t look it on passing glance, but when all you’ve got to look at is the way his shirt fits it becomes glaringly obvious.

“Easily startled.”

You correct, trying to decide whether or not it’s passé to turn over your shoulder to find the source of the heavy footsteps behind you.

He hums and grabs one of the packets, taking off the clip and leafing through it. Pulling out a few odd pages and setting them on the table.

The footsteps reveal their maker when he rounds the corner into the room and shuffles behind the table. If you thought Kyle was big, this man is properly a behemoth. A bit taller, broader in the shoulders, a layer of fat packed on over his muscles. He looks to be older by a few years. He gets crows feet when he nods and smiles at you before taking his seat.

The chair looks as though it would be happier pulling its own legs out from underneath itself.

“Cap’.”

Kyle doesn’t look up from his papers when he addresses the man.

You get no formal introduction to ‘Cap’ though he doesn’t seem to be truly involved in the audition process. He barely glances up from his packet. Content to nurse a fresh cigar and lean further back in the chair than you think should be plausible.

You read from the stack of pulled-out papers with sloppily highlighted lines and try not to shy away from meeting Kyle’s watchful eye.

The audition goes normally, all things considered. You’re instructed to read three different scenes. Without the time to read the blurb on the project, you draw the conclusion that “Trouble in Paradise” is some sort of short suspense film centered around a woman living, shockingly, in paradise.

The writing isn’t first-rate, but you suppose that’s to be expected. You have a hard time piecing together how the scenes flow, but that’s not your largest concern.

“Lovely. Really, darl’.”

Kyle stands when he talks. Commands the attention even of such a small audience. Takes up space in the room like he’s owed it.

You smile, feeling a bit more at-ease now that things seem to be wrapping up.

“N’ how do you look in a bathing suit?”

The question takes you entirely off-guard. It makes your jaw fall far enough open that you’re left looking like a fish out of water.

“I- sorry?”

Kyle’s face doesn’t change. Fantastic at keeping up appearances. He’s still casting that warm smile over you. The focus of it makes you feel like you’re sunbathing.

“Bathing suit, love. How d’you look?”

Disappointment drops like a stone in your belly. Heavy and fast. It’s another scam. Of course it is.

“Oh. I don’t- I don’t do dirty movies.”

It must be palpable on your face even more than it is in your voice.

‘Cap’ glances up at Kyle when he ashes his cigar. The smell is nauseating. He seems to be chewing on a smile. Kyle meets his eye for only a moment, amusement painfully evident on his face.

“You’ve just read the pool scene. Hardly anything dirty about costuming.”

[hyperfizationss]

Hello, this is my first time requesting/communicating anything on Tumblr, so sorry if I’m awkward.

(I also just saw the movie today)

Can I request a TMNT Mutant Mayhem x reader for a female reader on their period? For all the turtles? How would they react? Could it also be comforting?

I’m sorry if anything I said was confusing.

If this makes you feel uncomfortable then you don’t have to, and I’m sorry if it does

Let me tell you this right now,all of them needed to have an explanation of a period and what it is. They lived in the sewers all their lives what do you except them to know about women?

𝓛𝓮𝓸💙

-he tried his hardest to understand what was going on

-he was definitely sad that you were in pain,and when he heard it happens every month,he nearly started crying he felt so bad

-he actually owns a heating pad for the simple reason he got it as a gift for his dad,but he somehow didn’t need it(he thought splinters old man bones would have needed it) so he does give you that for your cramps

-your literally laying on an bed an HES wimpy on the floor kneeling at the bed in case you need anything,he literally jumps at any opportunity to help you,he even offered to carry you to the bathroom when you told him you needed to change your pad.

𝚁𝚊𝚙𝚑❤️

- he deadass looks at you once you explain what’s a period is and asks “do you need a bandaid or something?” You have to explain it more to him until he finally understands everything.barely

-he lets you have anything from his secret stash of snacks,and believe me he got the goods.Twix,Hershey bars,Cheetos,airheads he got atleast one of everything in there

- surprisingly out of all of the turtles he’s really warm so there’s no bead for a heating pad just wrap your legs around him while you cuddle

ԃσηηιє 💜

-once you had your first period when you guy were in your relationship,he immediately started tracking it so he knew when he needed to get you important things

-he made a heating pad for you believe it or not,let me tell you it works better than anything you could find at a store

-you need anything?he’s finishing your sentences before you even say what you need

-he playing music for you,bringing you snacks

-anything you need my boy is there

ɱıƙɛų 🧡

-he has made you a period playlist,he shoves a pair of headphones on your ears while he forces you to take a nap

-snacks for days!(specifically 7)

-learns you pad/tampon size so he knows what to buy(he also doesn’t have any shame in buying you period products)

-I hc he’s trans so this is kinda hard for me

-but if u agree with my headcanons he def knows what do,and sometimes he can help u out

Thank you

[apprenticestanheight]

THE FIVE DAYS OF SMUTMAS QUEUE: DAY THREE

Somno - Peter Strahm x gn! reader

Allllllll right, we are on to day three of this event and despite the fact that I never really write this many fics in less than a week unless motivation has come around and hyped me to a point where I'm capable of doing it across two days, I am still chuggin on and to be honest, the concept for this fic is largely what's kept me from going down the demotivated slope.

I have had a very not great last two months of the year and so body worship with peter strahm and a touch of angst with hurt/comfort it is, because I needed to write this idea out and figured this event would be a good opportunity lol.

Last note before this fic begins, this fic is meant for audiences of 18+! Minors, do not interact.

Fic type- this is smut and hurt/comfort

Warnings- somnophilia, oral (afab recieving), there is one mention of trauma/anxiety induced insomnia, and the reader is gn for all intents and purposes, but I went with an AFAB reader as that's the anatomy I know best, and this is edited but barely bc I wanted to post oops.

Peter is all too aware of how rough the last few months have been for you.

Granted, you've not said a word of it because you'd sooner see hell than let anyone know when you're going through a rough spot, but since your relationship has begun, Peter has learned to look for the subtle tells you display whenever you feel like your life is about to start falling apart.

Peter is something of a chronic insomniac because of how the on-call schedule of his work with the Jigsaw case has impacted his sleeping capabilities, and so he's used to staying awake for hours on end in case he gets a phone call from someone at the Jersey precinct.

You, however, work a decent and consistent job as a cleaner that pays more than well. You have a set of routines—you wake up at six thirty every morning, make a steaming mug of chai from the K-Cups you adore, eat an easy breakfast and a cliff bar on your way out of the house.

You're at work from seven-thirty in the morning to six thirty most nights, come home and do whatever needs doing around the apartment that you and Peter share, and you watch TV or read until Peter comes home and the two of you order dinner.

You always go to bed sooner than Peter does, typically going to bed somewhere around eleven or midnight where the earliest Peter goes to sleep is one, and then you wake up the next morning and your cycle repeats.

However, since September, whenever Peter has come to bed, you've still been awake, even if it's three or four in the morning. The chai you made with the K-Cups you adore has turned into a steaming cup of coffee that you have to sweeten with brown sugar, honey, and sometimes maple syrup to be able to tolerate.

You're at work from seven am to nine or ten most nights now, and by the time you're home, the housework has been looked after because Peters hired a cleaning lady to come by the house and make sure the house stays clean once every four or five days.

You come home and Peter tries to get you to smile but nothing really does the trick. Peter finds that he misses you, wants to try to goad you into talking it out with him but knows from too many attempts to do so that it absolutely will not work.

But, when he comes home on the 22nd at 7:30, a rarely early time for him get home as the stuff with Jigsaw has progressed, he's completely and utterly shocked to see you sitting on the couch in your living room.

When he closes the door, your gaze snaps to his.

"I owe you an apology," you say. "I've been very terrible at being a spouse the past few months. I shouldn't've subjected you to that. I know I need to be better at communicating and I just feel awful because I've pretty much shut you out and I just—it's just not—it's not fair to you, Peter."

"It's all right, Y/N," he says. "I thought that something had happened, yeah? I figured you wanted space and I was going to give it to you until you decided you wanted closeness again. I know I get angry really quick and am frankly a little surprised I haven't snapped about it but I have worked on not snapping a lot since we started dating."

You've been married something like a decade. It took a lot of storming for Peter to reach the level of evenness, the level of calm, where he stood.

"Yeah, but I've been terrible," you laugh. Peter approaches, sits next to you on your couch. "I've not—it's not been fair, Pete. I haven't talked, I've worked myself almost to the bone, I don't eat breakfast like I used to—all of my routines have been thrown off by this, and I can't imagine how yours have been."

He wishes he could say that he was fine, completely unaffected by it, but to say that would be to lie right to your face, which is something he promised never to do in his wedding vows. He worried about you all the time, desperately wanted to ask you if you were okay and try to goad you into talking to him even though that had never, ever worked in his favor.

Peter grins at you. "I'm just glad you're okay, Y/N," he says. "Had me worried for a stretch, if I'm honest."

"I'm sorry to have worried you," you say. "I've just—work has been driving me mental. I took more hours to get a bit of a Christmas bonus on top of the bonus I get tomorrow to try to ease the mental stuff I've been dealing with and yeah, the cushy paycheck is great but fuck if I don't hate dealing with people during the holiday season. I have been yelled at about how spotless houses need to be more times than I can count."

Peter laughs. "You're the one who decided to go into the cleaning business," he says. You laugh a bit yourself, press your forehead against his shoulder.

"I know," you mumble sadly, a laugh trailing through your words. "But when I started, I'd really hoped I would spend less time talking to people, more time deep cleaning carpets while I had decent music playing through a Walkman. I do get to listen to music but the people are becoming more and more of an issue lately."

Peter presses a kiss to the top of your head. "You're gonna take a bit of time off, mm? You definitely seem like you could use it."

"I booked it last night," you nod. "Tomorrow through til valentines day. I need the time to settle back into routines and I've been drinking coffee religiously—it's more than the one I drink here. I drink at least three cups a day just in the name of keeping myself upright and that needs to stop. I am beyond caffeine overdose. I can drink 600 miligrams a day and not feel a thing."

"That is definitely cause for concern," Peter laughs. "But I'm glad you're okay and that you're trying to get better. I've booked up until the New Year off so that I could catch up on sleep, too, but if we're both home, it means a lot of us time after Christmas. Still goin' up to New York?"

"My mother will put us to death if we don't," you laugh. Peter laughs.

For a solid few minutes, things really do feel like they'll be okay.

-

For what is probably the first time since before he was so much as a cop, Peter Strahm is asleep, you also asleep next to him in the bed that you share, at nine o'clock. He wakes up at six thirty from an unfortunately kinky dream and all he wants to do is part your legs and eat you out until he can't breathe.

Granted—you've spoken extensively about it before, and you've given him the okay to do it several times just as he has you, but still. The part of Peter that's turned on by the idea is equally matched by the part that kind of feels gross about it.

But then, approximately five minutes into unbearably loud thoughts about pulling down the sweatpants you'd stolen from him and parting your legs and devouring you, and five minutes away from just running to the bathroom and rubbing one out to the idea, he watches you press your face against the pillow and moan loud enough for him to hear it.

"Peter," you moan. "Fuck, feels so good."

Peters eyes nearly roll to the back of his head and he bites down on his tongue to keep himself from floating.

He tries to shake out his hands, tries to think of anything else while your quiet, desperate moans fill the air.

He thrums through the Jigsaw victims that've popped up in recent weeks, tries to think about something like the weather or the baseball scores or something to focus on anything but the fact that you're in the midst of a sex dream, one involving him, and the fact that you're moaning your way through it in a way that makes Peter want to lose his mind.

And then, you moan Peters name in a way that you know in your lucid moments drives him crazy, and Peter can't stop himself.

You've discussed it before, and Peters done it before, and every single time he's woken you up with his tongue rubbing wildly against your clit, you've moaned out and started rutting against his face and made a comment about how much you liked waking up to Peter bringing you to orgasm.

Peter is careful to remove the sweatpants you've taken from his drawer, lifting up the shirt you also stole and exposing some of your waist.

He licks a stripe through your folds, not at all surprised to find you're wet if the way that you're moaning from the dream is of any indication, and almost moans against your cunt right then and there.

He starts off slowly, licking stripes against your folds and drinking your wetness down his throat like it's water. Every single time you moan something within him flutters, and he knows it's been too long since he's taken his time with eating you out.

And then, as his tongue attaches to your clit, he feels one of your hands move to his hair.

"Best way to wake up ever," you whisper. "Oh, Peter. Thank you."

You sound half-asleep, but Peter moans against you and you tug on his hair encouragingly, so he keeps going.

He runs his tongue in circles over your clit, sliding a digit into your wet hole without a thought in the world, fighting a smirk when you moan and tug on his hair again.

He starts thrusting, sets a pace that has you writhing within minutes, and takes his fingers out in the last split second before you release, replacing his fingers with his tongue and lapping up your cum without thought, care, or merit. You thrust against his face in the aftershocks, moan as he gets up from his position.

He pulls you in for a kiss while you use one arm to amble through your nightstand for a condom, feeling Marks half-hard, clothed-but-only-by-flannel-pajama-pants length against your bare thigh.

You pull away only so that he can take his pants off, and you slide the condom on with care for how hard his cock is. He peppers your neck and jawline with kisses as he slowly thrusts into your sensitive folds, moaning as he bottoms out.

"I love you," he says to fill the silence while he waits for you to adjust.

"Thank you for dealing with me when I'm at my worst," you press a kiss to his cheekbone. "And for waking me up in the best way ever. Love it when you eat me out, Pete. You're so fucking good at it."

Your legs are wrapped around his waist and you squeeze his hips to tell him to start moving, and when he does, he sets a slow pace. Despite his fervency when it came to oral, he did intend to actually make it known that he did love you and wasn't always in it just to get you or himself to orgasm as quickly as possible.

His pace is slow indeed, but not slow enough that you're pretty much begging him to pick it up a little, and his thrusts are languid in a way that's perfect.

Both of you start moaning after a bit, and Peter, the guy who never moans and usually just likes hearing how you sound when you do, is moaning lewdly and loudly into the nape of your neck while you moan quietly near his ear.

"Peter," you moan. "Peter, fuck. You're so fucking good at this, yeah? You're treating me so well, baby. You're amazing."

Peter moans, clearly enjoying the praise, and you rut your hips against him.

"Fuck," he moans, picking up the pace just a little. "Fuck, Y/N. I love getting you so slick. You were dreaming about me, yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod. "Yeah. We were fucking at the precinct, in one of the storage closets."

Peter moves a hand to rub your clit, loving the moan that it brings out of you.

Minutes pass by of the same, and your release triggers Peters. You moan each others names as you come, and while you go pee to make sure you don't end up with a UTI, Peter pulls the condom off and trashes it, gets a bath going for the two of you.

In the bath, you talk of plans for the day, which will consist entirely of going to the shops together, reading books and doing last-minute christmas shopping.

All in all, you're happy that Peter woke you up with oral and Peter is happy that you're feeling okay enough to want to be woken up that way again.

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

I'm not a "ship" person whatsoever but I do scroll character tags on occasion and see quite a bit of Vox and Vel together as well as what seems to be a lot of what I'm assuming is female original character stuff. I've even seen some Charlie and Vox too. So it's out there, but unless you're scrolling through character tags I can see how it might be hard to find. Personally, I also block/filter a lot of the big "ship" tags so maybe that also makes it easier for me to stumble across this stuff that "slips" through since I don't know if those pairings have names.

I get your point though. I do think many are inclined to erase his bisexuality when it's convenient. Interestingly, they also erase Valentino's pansexuality too. The same with Husk as well, but I check his tag a lot less so who knows.

What disappoints me, and I know I'm about to come off as nit-picky right now lol, is the lack of research people put into their "sexuality" headcanons for the characters with reference to their different eras. When reading some of them, you'd think the idea of "gay rights" was a completely new and foreign topic that only emerged after the early 2000s. I get people want to go for the simplistic "repressed and doesn't know what being [insert identity here] is" for some of the older characters but that completely ignores a fascinating and rich tapestry of queer history that could create far more interesting (and still accurate) stories for the characters/their backgrounds. I would really encourage those who haven't already or are generally unfamiliar to dive into this history as it might inspire their character ideas while also educate them on the work, art, and activism our queer elders have contributed to the community we have today.

I think this may partially relate to character ages being under explored as well. While I've seen debate on what is canon/has been decanonized many of these characters, as far as we know, died in their late 30s and beyond. That's a lot of life to live and experience. While certainly many people throughout history (and even today) kept their sexuality hidden from the public due to culture, shame, and safety that doesn't mean there weren't many incredible private venues/spaces that could be utilized to explore those feelings/identities in secret.

I could go on and on about this but I've totally strayed from your original point (I'm sorry!) and I'm very tired haha. I just think there are multiple factors coming into play here with these character interpretations and, for me, the biggest missed opportunity is the lack of historical research. But end of the day people should have their fun! Just an observation.

Completely agree with this! I doubt my response will be as long since I just woke up but other characters doing certain things or not knowing about sexualities is interesting, it just seems like a lot of people think older people don’t want to explore any of that like it only just happened recently as you said. I like to joke about Angel being shocked about gay marriage and not knowing a bunch of current terms but thats about it. With him being in the mafia when he was alive makes it much more interesting as well, I’m pretty sure around his time the mafia was blackmailing men in gay bars but dont quote me on that I might be wrong.

Anyway for Husk and Valentino pan erasure I see that a bunch too. Not exactly erasure but just… ignoring it? Moreso erasure on Valentino’s end because Ive seen people get mad at people for shipping Valentino with a woman and was like “hes gay dont do that” no he isnt. Also dont ship Valentino with anyone for the love of god. But like people are super used to just making up headcanons that they dont bother to look up actual canon stuff. I know Hazbin isn’t the best but if you want canonically LGBTQ+ characters use what you have and add on later. Or headcanon a background character, thats what I did with Molly.

People are very focused on modern day queerness and forget that this stuffs been happening for decades and it’s a bit sad. Also I seem to have strayed from my own question as well?? Anyway ty for mentioning this! Its very interesting 🩷

[you-matter-dear]

If you have felt chronically invalidated or don't trust your own decision making skills and want to feel more confident in your own abilities, I would suggest trying some or all of these things;

Find someone you trust and respect to be your sounding board. NOT the person/people who make you feel small and incompetent! The point is to teach your mind and nervous system that your invalidator doesn't have some sort of secret higher knowledge nor a monopoly on logical thinking.

Sit with your decision privately for a while. Don't ask others opinions, don't look for outside validation, don't give yourself the opportunity to be immediately discouraged by the invalidating person/people. Sit with yourself in your quiet moments. Wonder about what that decision might look like and how you might feel after. What do you want? Will it make you happy? Will it make your life better, even a little?

Try recognizing the small, safe decisions you make that end up going right. You tried a new sandwich place and it ended up being really good. You took a chance on that book and you learned a lot. You took a different route to get to work and saw a cool house. You make a TON of decisions every day--there are plenty you have already made that were a good idea!

When you're ready for outside input, start with your trusted source or other supportive environments. Tell someone you trust to not immediately shut you down or dismiss you--a therapist, an online friend, a respected community leader, a kind relative, or even that friendly barista you chat with. Give someone a chance to respond with enthusiasm, thoughtfulness, and reciprocation. There are people who will delight in your successes and support your ideas. Find them in your life!

No self defeating language!! No 'i probably can't do it', no 'but I'm not good at that', no 'i always fail'. Talk about how you feel, not defining reality before it even happens. 'I'm really worried I won't meet my own expectations' or 'in the past, this has been really hard for me'. This opens the door to solutions, support, and reflection with the people you're talking to. It invites them into a conversation about times when they didn't feel confident or let's them suggest things that have helped them in similar situations in the past! You open a dialogue for yourself instead of entrenching yourself in old stories that might not even be true. Don't stop yourself before you even start.

Pay attention how much YOU notice/don't notice other people in public. Chances are, you are sensitive about feeling judged or silly. You might think that that cashier is rolling their eyes at you, that guy that looked up when you walked in is annoyed you're here. Pay attention to how much YOU think about random strangers. That janitor you saw the other day: do you remember their shoes/hat/nails/etc.? Are you studying and judging the people walking by you on the street? As a general rule, other random people in public are paying about as much attention to you as you are to them. Everyone has stressful lives, a list of things to do, and songs stuck in their own heads. (This is barring things like transphobia, racism, sexism, and other micro/macroaggressions, of course. I acknowledge that this is not a privilege granted to everyone.)

Ask yourself 'what is, realistically, the absolute worst that can happen from this decision?' Especially if the decision is fairly low stakes and non-permanent, like getting a daring haircut or color, trying those new, loud earrings, trying to grow/shave your facial/head/body hair. I find it useful to follow up fearful thoughts with, 'okay, and then what?' (ex. "What if it looks terrible?"-- "Okay, then what?"-- "I'll be embarrassed and people will think I look weird!"-- "Okay, then what?" --"They might stare at me or make a mean comment!"-- "Okay, then what?" "I'll feel bad!"-- "Okay, then what?" Your hair will grow back, people whose opinions you care about won't be cruel and life will move on.)

THEN ask yourself; 'What could go right?' Balance! If you're spiralling or panicking with 'what ifs', try to make the opposite just as proportional and realistic. Even if it's hard to envision yourself succeeding, if your brain says something like; 'I could fail and then lose all my friends and I'll die alone!!' you can always make sure to counter with 'or I could succeed SO well that someone falls in love with me on the spot and I get a million bucks and move to my own private island'. Illustrate how ridiculous both sides of the spectrum are! Put into perspective the likelihood each of these scenarios.

Remember, no one else is you. Other people have knowledge of what worked for them, ideas and world views they are operating on that they will be convinced is the ONLY and BEST way. They. Are not. You. They can advise and suggest and caution, but only YOU can live your life. You will be affected. You know what works and what doesn't (or you can learn). You are the only one you spend every moment of every day with. You are your own closest companion. There is no one who knows more about you than YOU. Other people may have different insights and observations that may help you know yourself better, but they can ALSO have false, ill fitting narratives that have more to do with their trauma or internal story than they actually do with you. Question the stories given to you about yourself. Question when someone defines you, labels you as something that just feels bad--lazy, sloppy, loud, annoying, ditzy. Something in you just balked at that story. Find out why!

Accept that you might not be able to convince/change your invalidator. Look. This person or people might well be someone you love dearly, live with, or has some sort of power over you. You might not want or be able to cut contact. They may be unpredictable, sick, struggling with their own stress, from a completely different culture/mindset/generation. They may even acknowledge that this is something they need to work on but then never do. The only thing you can be certain to have control over changing is yourself. You cannot wait for them to decide that it's important enough to change their behavior because they haven't so far. You don't need to harbor anger or resentment in this process of healing (though, if you do, that's perfectly valid and normal). You don't need to feel like you're gearing up for a confrontation with them. It doesn't need to be about them. This is about you trusting yourself. It's about you living the life that settles you, fills you, grounds you. It's about getting to a place of being comfortable with uncertainty and expansion. You deserve to grow, heal, and change. It's not about them. This isn't about them.

Feel confident in your decision before you tell your invalidator. When you have a network of trusted sounding boards, go to them, talk out the pros and cons, the logistics and your worries. Talk through the logic of it so you know your plan and you feel comfortable (or as comfortable as you can) with your decision. If it's something your invalidator needs to know, make sure you aren't looking for their approval; you're telling them your decision. Be unassailable. Feel calm and confident. Be at a point in your decision that even their worst, most invalidating or dismissive reaction will not sway your resolve.

[armpirate]

Soundleasure | Choi San || CH. 2

Pairings: Soft!San x fem!reader || Strangers to lovers, fake dating

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, online sex, ghosting

Warnings: inexperienced!San, fem!reader, masturbation, online sex, camboy, first times.

Summary: You can do whatever you please and be whoever you want on the Internet. And San knew that a little bit too well.

After finally following all the signs the universe was throwing at him, he started living a double life that no one was aware of. Everyone in his daily life knew him as Choi San, the reserved and quiet boy who wouldn't raise his voice, and would barely communicate with anyone outside of his comfort group. But only a few knew him as Soundleasure, the man with a sexy voice and a filthy mind that had their toes curling just with his narrations.

He never thought of the possibility of those two lives ever meeting, he had always tried for them to follow a parallel route and had always played safe to keep his friends from ever suspecting that side even existed. But his plans will start to crumble when he gets a little too close with one of his subscribers and she invades his real-self and altergo's universes without being able to stop it.

Y/n will not only help him to keep his secret from his circle, but will also show him there's more of Soundleasure in him than he'd like to admit. 

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Aprox. time of reading: 11 minutes

San sank on his seat, moving his pen up and down, hitting the desk a few times until the click of a tongue made him sit straight on his seat as he dropped the pen next to his notebook. The move of his finger only changed from his pen to the touchpad of his laptop on the right of his notebook.

It was his fault for opting to extend his studies and start a master degree on Computer Science that he didn't exactly need, but that he ended up doing because he didn't feel ready to jump into the wide world of work. So even if he felt bored there, he saw it as an opportunity to expand his resume, and also as extra time to get used to the real world ahead of him.

He silently sighed, looking around to find nothing before he looked back down at his screen, noticing a blue mark popping up on the lower bar. Wooyoung was reminding him and Mingi about the dinner they had agreed on having. But he knew that reminder was mainly directed at him, since Mingi never missed the chance to go out and meet new people.

Ever since Wooyoung joined a new company as an event planner, he kept meeting lots of new people. Although it seemed that he stuck to a pair of new guys in his office that he always hung around during work time.

San wasn't especially delighted about the idea of meeting them that night. He remembered the hard time he had when Mingi decided to introduce his childhood friend, Yunho, to the group, and how hard it was for him to get used to the new guy until they eventually turned closer. Or how uncomfortable it was at first when Wooyoung introduced a classmate, Yeosang, as well until he was a new member of the group.

Yeah, he certainly wasn't looking forward for that night. At least not at that moment, even if he knew that he'd be happy to have attended, just like the past two times.

Woo: You two better not make up any excuses

Woo: We're living together, so don't force me to take my friends to the dorm.

Mingi: I'm broke this month

Woo: San will pay for your stuff

He knew Wooyoung wasn't talking seriously, but it was a way to drag him into the conversation that he knew he was reading. It still made him move uncomfortably on his seat, trying to think how to answer that.

San: You're the one working and the one inviting us. You should pay for his stuff

He would be just as broke as Mingi if it weren't for Soundleasure, although his friends didn't know that.

When they met they were all just starting their degrees, and San still was in a good place that didn't force him to do much to get money to cover up what he needed. His luck was that his parents had a comfortable position that just allowed him to live like that, until he couldn't anymore.

One day, everything changed and San found himself struggling to find a job he'd be able to fit into his schedules until he saw the light with the special channel he opened almost two years back, and that his friends had no idea of. They both saw the set up in his room, shortly after they all moved in together to an apartment close to his college, but they both deduced that San was just trying to make a career as a streamer, and joked how he was failing miserably since he was still going to class. At least it was an explanation he didn't need to give -he was well aware he probably would've had a difficult time finding a good answer if his friends had ever questioned him about it without giving their suspicions away.

He silently picked all of his things as soon as the lecture was over, getting his notebook, his case and his laptop inside his bag before he was one of the firsts leaving the place. It wasn't like he was late or anything, but he just felt better walking to the next class by himself and not being followed by the huge amount of people that would be heading in the same direction after they chose to leave.

There was no explanation to him as to why it was so hard for him to socialize in general. He was quite easy going and cheerful whenever he was around his friends. His only problem was the difficult journey he had to go through to get to that phase, and that seemed more complicated than the four years he spent studying Software Engineering.

He stopped in front of the door to his next class, resting in one of the benches that were placed every few meters across the corridor. It was quite silent and peaceful, until some voices started echoing the place, and he knew more people would surely join his classmates in a matter of minutes -maybe a bit longer if they had stopped in the cafeteria.

Just staring at the white wall made him feel uncomfortable. Not for the fact that it was weird, but it did make him feel like a weirdo for some reason. So he just scrolled through his phone, finding nothing interesting in his socials, and not with enough energy to bicker with Wooyoung -who was still teasing him in the group chat.

So he chose to enter his site, which at first sight seemed like any other random social media. At least his page looked like that because he didn't post any personal videos.

San didn't know if it was his social anxiety acting up, or how uncomfortable he felt just by scrolling down his phone without looking at anything in particular, but he ended up in his general private messages. He always checked those, but it never got his attention. Most of them were greetings, or random emojis or, at most, followers asking for a dedicated video. Until he found a message that was sent the previous night.

Swancruelly was a username he had never seen in his dms before, but it sounded familiar for some reason. It wasn't until he clicked on their profile that he was aware of how long they had been following him: almost one year and a half. They were following him when he still bothered to look at every new subscriber he got, excited at how people enjoyed his work -but also at the amount of money it meant he'd get at the end of the week.

"Good video... But maybe next time you could have my moans in it"

He read the text, and read it again. And smirked at how they used the verb "can", as in a possibility for him rather than them, instead of "should". The difference was minimal from afar, but looking at it in a closer perspective made him feel attracted to it. He felt as if that person was the one he had to lust after, instead of them lusting after him.

Soundleasure: Hmm sounds like an interesting proposal

Soundleasure: But I'm afraid I'll need some time to think about it.

Y/n felt her phone buzzing over the meeting table, making some eyes turn to her as the sound was loud enough to overlap with her boss' voice for those who were sitting closer to her. Ignoring those looks, she just reached for her phone, frowning at the notification that popped up at the top of her screen, along with several emails and unread messages.

It just didn't seem real to see that text coming from him, and it had her blankly staring at her screen until she called her own attention and started typing.

Y/n: Hope it's not too much time. I have a lot of offers to consider.

—Y/n —her name sounded so serious when it came out of the well suited man heading the table, that it instantly made her sit straight in her place and look up to him—. I was asking about the issue with the suppliers.

Although her mind briefly focused on the mysterious man that made her lose her mind -and a few hundred bucks monthly-, she managed to head back to the meeting, adopting her serious professional persona as soon as she was aware of the topic of discussion.

—I contacted them earlier, and they said the issue should be solved by Friday. They were waiting on another material to be able to send the whole thing, but it seems like they'll be getting it tomorrow, and production will be back to normal.

—Great —her boss sighed—. The dealerships have been blasting my phone for the past two weeks, and they were getting tired of hearing nothing. So it's good to know. Thank you, Y/n. Anything on the new model? —he changed the topic again.

She managed to be somewhat alert on what they were saying, in case it'd end up with her speaking up again, but she couldn't help but tap over her screen so it'd light up, finding nothing but the same old notifications.

Soon when everything was done and everyone was getting ready to leave, she was stopped by an authoritative voice calling her name. Most of her colleagues left the room without looking back. They weren't really worried about her, because they knew the man behind her wouldn't do much, other than raising his eyebrow and remind her where she was.

It wasn't like it happened frequently.

Well, at least not for the same reason of that day.

—Close the door —he commanded, placing his hands on his hips—. What should I do with you? —he sighed, relaxed once they were left alone.

—I was just checking a text —she replied back—. They don't know what it is about. Besides, I work more than all of them combined. Also, they'll think this position was gifted to me either way, as if I hadn't worked my ass to be where I am...

—Y/n.

—... I've given up on holidays, I've done countless of extra hours, I've covered for some of their fuck ups. They have no right...

After being warned to stop talking and paying zero attention to the warning look and the amount of times he called her name, she was forced to stop talking when a hand covered her mouth.

—Stop —he arched his eyebrows—. Let others speak.

He could see by the way her frown deepened how annoyed she was by that. He knew her enough to know that was the only way to get her to shut up whenever she rushed talking and entered a cycle that would have no end.

—I know better than anyone else how hard you work constantly. I'm aware, and you don't need to remind me —he let go of her, poking his hands inside his pockets—. But you also need to understand you're equal to others, and I have to call you out when you do things wrong. And what you did earlier was wrong.

—Okay, but you don't know what the text was about —she shrugged—. It could be related to that problem with the providers that absolutely no one was able to solve.

—Oh, so you smile like that whenever you talk to the person that sends us the alloys? Good to know —he sighed, looking at her again—. I'm just doing it for your own good. One day, all of this will be yours, and I want all the assholes out there to respect you the same way they respect me. You're here for your hard work, but for them you're here because you're daddy's girl —he mocked the last two words—. You're doing a good job. I'm just saying you should outline some more details.

Finally giving in, she sighed while placing hers hands on her hips, exhausted over that discussion, but at the same time finding it useful. Her father was right, even if both of them didn't like it. The people from her own team, and those who were sharing a table with her earlier, didn't think of her further than the boss' daughter. It didn't matter how much work she did, or the amount of effort she poured into every detail, she was always overlooked. And the last thing those people needed were excuses to back up their annoying attitude.

—I'll do my best —she assured him—. But if I were them, I wouldn't play around either. They know one day I'll be the one in the lead, and I could kick their asses away.

—Yeah, you're not going to do that —he grimaced, gently smiling at her.

—You're right, I wouldn't do that. But all those free snacks in the kitchen... puff —she moved her hands in the air, mimicking objects vanishing.

—Seriously... —he chuckled, walking with her to the door— Just behave, show them all the great woman I've raised.

For some reason, that comment made her giggle softly and twist her body a bit, which meant she had to make an even bigger effort to hide the fact that they both had a father-daughter conversation, rather than a boss-employee one.

Their ways broke as they both headed to their own offices. Her father walked straight through the corridor, to hide behind the big black door that was secured by the table of his secretary, while she went in the opposite direction, breathing deeply when she finally closed the door to hers. She took her blazer off, hanging it over the coat rack at the left of the door, before she made her way behind her desk.

Moaning, she hid her face among her arms, curled over the surface, to enjoy the bit of darkness she wasn't allowed to due to the sunny day and the wide windows at her left.

Just like it happened with his videos, his texts also seemed to come in whenever she needed them, because her phone buzzed in the palm of her hand, making her raise her eyes over her forearm to check her screen.

Soundleasure: You were the one who sent the first text

Y/n bit her lip, holding back the excited smile -even if there was no one to hide it from. She didn't know what was the most exciting part of the whole thing. It wasn't like she had gone too much time without a similar conversation -similar in the sense of it being with a male, only, because in regards of attraction, it couldn't compare. Maybe it was the fact that, after a year and a half, she was finally talking to the voice of her pleasure.

Y/n: Because you got my attention. Imagine how lucky you are.

Soundleasure: So among all those convos, you still chose to get out of your way to reach out to me. I feel privileged.

Y/n: You should be! Now I have four more channels fighting for me. You're on a countdown.

Soundleasure: That sounds like a lot of negotiation to do, and I'm awful at that.

Y/n: I'm quite easy to convince.

Y/n: Maybe I shouldn't have said that

Soundleasure: To make the negotiation work, I should know the name of the person who's offering her moans.

Soundleasure: You know, just to make sure it is as sexy as the moans you're promising.

Y/n: I thought you'd have rathered to keep the mystery for a bit more... Y/n, that's my name.

Y/n: What about you, Soundleasure?

Soundleasure: San.

San smiled shortly, soon going back to the neutral look when he reminded he was still in class, surrounded by people and with the teacher a few meters away from him. He looked down at his phone, rereading the chat.

Y/n is definitely a name he could imagine himself moaning to.

[egot1stical]

okay been a few days: finale thoughts.

first: i liked it. it wasn’t BAD. it was mid but it wasn’t Bad. I think my ranking of 6.7/10 is still pretty accurate lol. I enjoyed it. But now I complain

Pacing was crazy. I don’t know why we spent like, half of Simon’s runtime 1000 years in the future. And then the other half of Fionna’s world (which I cared a lot less about) was focused on like. 3 separate scarab fight scenes LOL.

Casper and Nova are fun concepts, but they’re not really. Accurate? They’re so heavy handed with their message of “petrigrof is unhealthy” that they kind of just. Get the dynamic wrong on how. Which is weird. Especially after we just had a whole Simon and Betty episode. It kind of paints Simon as some pushy guy responsible for all the hardships in the relationship. Like, uh, Simon wasn’t making all the choices in the relationship, guys? His problem was pretty much the opposite; he didn’t *make* any solid choices. Betty was the one that did whatever. Jerry literally establishes that Betty was incredibly impulsive about love and such. They’re still unhealthy; there’s still the thing where Betty ended up living her life around Simon because of the curse. But like. I don’t know why they portrayed Simon like that.

Also, they don’t even acknowledge in their heavy handedness that they’re literally like, doomed in every universe. That’s what this series has been building up to right? Simon doesn’t find the crown? They die in the mushroom war. The star universe plays out. Ooo is wiped out at the hands of vampires and they eventually starve too. But then they show Simon getting on the bus with Betty as The Right Thing To Do which is kind of crazy.

Missed opportunities for the whole show: Having F&C cast and AT cast interact aside from Simon. Simon and Ice King interaction. More Simon and Betty interaction. Crying Simon. Using the decade long animation error of Simon having white eyes before the crown as a plot device rather than just pretending it was on purpose (like what they did with the second crown in Crossover.) SIMON. AND. MARCY. INTERACTION. WHY SET IT UP IF YOURE NOT GONNA KNOCK IT DOWN. IT WASNT EVEN IN THE FUCKING MONTA

I did like the rest of it though.

The Simon and Betty moments were good, just wish they were more substantial. And just. More. The no regrets scene was really good. Also, seeing Fionna and Simon's friendship. They're really cute.

I'm a little mixed on Fionna's world becoming magical, but I feel like it works because it's just Slightly. She still learned to appreciate her life as is, but Cake gets to be herself - Especially important when you see the connections between Cake and Simon. (Cake robbed of her mind due to the lack of magic, desperately trying to find a way to get it back or communicate.)

I feel that it should've been way more emotional though. The closest we got was the "too much" scene, which I REALLY liked, but I kind of find it hard to believe Simon "I don't want to move on" Petrikov just Got Better after seeing his fiancée die and then being told that everything was his fault. But yeah, I wish we had More closure on like, his Panic Attacks or depression. He also just kind of. Learns his life matters out of nowhere. Like, good for him, but boy where did you get that from. Tell me in words. Also he should’ve thrown up upon seeing Golbetty (half joke, but more reaction please.)

I’m glad he's moving house though. I’m alright with this as an ending. (And even better with it as a season ending.) But also, get that man away from the bar.

[sisterspooky1013]

What Desire Will Make Foolish People Do, 3/3

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

All the parking spots in front of their rooms are now occupied, so Mulder finds one around the corner. Scully doesn’t make any move to get out when he cuts the engine, so neither does he. She’s turned toward the window, one arm crossed over her chest and the hand of the other held in a loose fist in front of her mouth, looking small and defeated. Minutes tick by in uncomfortable silence, though her words echo loudly in his head. 

  You’re sorry for yourself, not for me.  

  It bothers him that she thinks that, because he is sorry. Knowing that he’s hurt her is one of the worst feelings in the world, and yet he can’t seem to stop doing it. He has to ask himself why that is. He runs his knuckles over the grip on the steering wheel contemplatively, debating what to say and how to say it. She’s clearly waiting for him to say something.

  “I find myself a bit perplexed by my own behavior,” he finally says, and she startles at the sudden sound of his voice.  

  He feels her eyes on him, but he doesn’t look at her. 

  “Aren’t you supposed to be some prolific behavioral profiler?” she asks dryly, and despite his mood his mouth quirks. 

  “It’s notoriously difficult to psychoanalyze yourself,” he says, giving her a quick glance. “That’s why therapy is in such high demand.”

  Scully sighs and turns back to the window. 

  He tries to remove himself and Scully from the situation and look at the events of the evening from the perspective of an impartial observer. He imagines someone like Byers coming to him and sharing this story about a woman he holds unrequited (to the best of his knowledge) feelings for: noticing her secretive phone calls, making her think he’d left the motel so he could spy on her, interrupting her rendez-vous with a bogus story to prevent her from being with another man, and then following her to the bar when she asked for space. He starts to feel a little sick as he recognizes his own obsessive behavior, his attempts to manipulate and control her. If Byers admitted to treating someone this way, Mulder would tell him to either work up the nerve to tell her how he feels, or leave her the hell alone. 

  He looks over at Scully, who is now resting the side of her forehead against the window with her eyes closed. She knows at this point that his feelings for her are not entirely platonic, however the extent of his confession was that he’d like the opportunity to see her naked, which is hardly an accurate representation of the deep, overwhelming way he loves her. The way he treats her is also not indicative of a man who is hopelessly in love, but rather a man who sees her as a possession. 

  The idea that she has also been secretly harboring affection for him suddenly seems ridiculous, and he can’t help but wonder how she doesn’t see that she could do so much better. He turns back to the windshield, which is coated with a hazy layer of vapor from their breath.

  “I think,” he says, and he sees her lift her head and look at him in his periphery, “that when someone feels unable to communicate their feelings and desires—whether because they’re afraid of how the other party will react or because they fear rejection—they sometimes attempt to get their needs met in indirect ways. They may not even be fully aware of what those feelings and desires are, and they may not be able to identify their actions as attempts to manipulate the other, but that’s what they’re doing.” He drops his head and picks at his cuticles. “Almost like if they play their cards right, they can somehow get what they want without ever having to say it. Because speaking it aloud feels impossible.”  

  She’s completely silent, and after what feels like an eternity he finally gathers the courage to look at her. She’s staring at him with a mildly horrified expression on her face, her eyes unfocused and her lips slightly parted. He feels his own expression fall, and his heart starts to pound anew. He hoped that this context might make his actions appear slightly less barbaric, but she looks disgusted, and he supposes that he can’t blame her. 

  “Excuse me,” she mumbles as she reaches for the door handle, and before he has the opportunity to contemplate trying to stop her, she’s out of the car and disappearing around the corner. 

  Mulder sits there for several minutes, his belly churning with guilt and self-loathing. He feels compelled to do something, but at this point there’s nothing left to do. The only thing he knows for certain is that he can’t keep chasing her; he has to give her space to process all this. With a weary sigh, he unfurls himself from the driver’s seat and stretches his back before beginning a slow, defeated walk to his motel room with his head hung in shame. 

  He’s grateful for the mild weather, if nothing else. Crickets chirp asynchronously from a nearby wooded area and there’s a low hum from a distant highway. He searches his pockets for his room key as he nears the door, and when someone clears their throat he looks up sharply. 

  She’s leaning against the exterior of the building between his door and hers, her hands clasped in front of her body and her eyes flitting between him and the sidewalk. Mulder stops in his tracks several paces away, confused but hopeful. 

  “Are you okay?” he asks, and she must intuit that he means generally, not specific to this situation, because she nods.

  “Can we talk?” she asks softly, still not meeting his eye for more than a millisecond. 

  “Of course,” he says. 

  A beat passes, and she looks at his door. 

  “Can I come in?”

  “Oh. Yeah,” he says with a shake of his head, stepping forward to unlock the door before gesturing for her to go in first. 

  She stands awkwardly near the TV stand, but shakes her head when he offers her a chair. Mulder sits on the end of the bed near her and waits. He’s done a lot of talking tonight, and for the most part, it’s only made things worse. 

  Scully opens her mouth to speak but then closes it. She swallows, sighs, chews her lip nervously. She’s clearly having difficulty saying what she needs to say, and he has the fearful realization that it may be because she’s preparing to tell him that they can no longer work together, or no longer be friends, or both. Perhaps the kindest thing to do would be to put her out of her misery. 

  “I get it, Scully,” he says, bracing his forearms on his knees and looking at the floor. “I’m not expecting you to forgive me or…give me a chance. What I did was pretty irredeemable.”

  A pause. 

  “That’s not…” she starts, and he braces himself. “I do forgive you, Mulder. But that’s not what I wanted to say.”

  He slowly lifts his head, but as soon as he makes eye contact with her she averts her eyes to the floor. 

  “Okay,” he says, elated but still concerned. 

  There are more false starts and exasperated sighs as she plays with the strap on her purse. Finally she closes her eyes and pulls in a deep breath. 

  “I think that it’s possible that I wanted you to know I was meeting up with someone,” she blurts out. Mulder blinks at her, stunned. “I didn’t exactly go to great lengths to hide it,” she continues. 

  She’s still looking at the floor, and his mind is reeling. 

  “You—you wanted me to hear you…being with someone else?” he asks, a bit wounded and certainly surprised. 

  “No,” she says quickly, stealing a glance at him. “I hadn’t necessarily planned on inviting him in. I just thought—Jesus, this is embarrassing.”

  She brings her hand up to shield her face.

  “I think I have the upper hand on embarrassing behavior,” he says lightly, and he sees her relax a little. 

  Scully crosses her arms over her chest and watches the toe of her shoe as she traces the pattern in the carpet. 

  “I think I was hoping that you’d see him leave or something. I don’t know. I was just hoping that you’d notice. Maybe that it would bother you,” she admits. “But then you weren’t even here when he came by. I thought you weren’t, anyway.”

  “You wanted it to bother me?” he clarifies. 

  She looks up at him, considering his face for a moment. 

  “I wanted you to care,” she says, her voice small and tight. After a beat she adds, “I wanted you to be jealous.”

  Mulder nods, holding her eye.

  “Mission accomplished,” he says, and she scoffs and looks away. 

  “I wouldn’t classify it as an exceptionally successful tactic.”

  “Well, here we are, having this conversation,” he says, sitting up. “So I guess in that sense it was a success.”

  Scully nods in reluctant agreement. There’s another long silence, and it feels like there’s too much to say and no way to accurately express any of it. 

  “I didn’t know,” he finally says, and she looks at him expectantly. “When you’ve invited me to get dinner or to watch a movie, I just kind of figured it was out of pity because…” He laughs a little in embarrassment. “Because you’re my only friend.”

  Scully frowns. 

  “The Gunmen are your friends,” she gently retorts, and he shrugs. 

  “I never consciously turned you down. I just don’t want you to feel obligated to spend time with me, Scully. I’m sure you get more than your fill Monday through Friday, plus these thrilling overnights,” he says, gesturing around to the shabby motel room. “I didn’t know you actually wanted to hang out, so I just said no to save you from your own kindness.” She gives him a sad, sympathetic smile that makes him feel awful. That’s exactly the feeling he doesn’t want her to experience when she looks at him. “And I don’t want you to think that—” He stops and looks at the floor again. “Reflecting on what I said to you—which, again, I’m very sorry for—I realize that it may have given the impression that I see you as…belonging to me, or something equally horrific. So I want you to know that it’s not about ownership and it’s not even about sex. It’s much more than that.”

  He hears her set her purse on the TV stand before she takes a few steps forward. Her feet enter his visual field but he keeps his head down. This is the very thing that’s kept him stuck for so long: he can’t bring himself to put words to the way he feels about her. He’s not sure that sufficient words exist. She touches his shoulder and it sends a little shiver down his spine. With a gentle squeeze she asks him to look at her, and he does. 

  She’s tired and emotionally drained. All her makeup has been washed away by tears, and the whites of her eyes are streaked with reddened blood vessels. But God help him if she isn’t the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. 

  “I know, Mulder,” she says quietly. “I’ve never questioned the fact that you care about me.”

  Mulder takes a shuddering breath. 

  “It’s a bit more than caring, Scully,” he says, and he watches something shift in her eyes. 

  She takes another step forward, nudging his knee aside with her thigh so she can stand in between his legs. He looks up at her with awe as she takes his head between her two small hands, her thumbs stroking the skin in front of his ears, and slowly brings her face closer to his. 

  “I know,” she says again, and he feels her breath warm against his lips. 

  Seconds later, the warmth of her breath is replaced with the warmth of her mouth, kissing him incredibly softly. It’s brief, over before he’s really had a chance to register what’s happening, but she stays close after she pulls away. 

  “I don’t deserve that,” he says, his head still trapped between her palms. “After everything I’ve done. And not just tonight.”

  Scully sighs, tilting her head to the side wistfully and letting her eyes dance across his face. 

  “Maybe not,��� she says, and a little pang of regret hits him in the chest. “But maybe I do.”

  He attempts to nod, but her hands are so strong, and she shows no sign of cutting him loose. 

  “You do,” he says emphatically. “You deserve…everything.”

  She closes her eyes briefly, perhaps moved by what he said. And he said so little, has given so little, when she deserves the entirety of the world and the universe, and every galaxy therein. He feels so inadequate, sitting here before her with next to nothing to offer. He just wants her to be happy. 

  “What do you want?” he asks quietly, and her mouth sinks into a little frown. Her eyes drop to his chin, the confidence he’d just watched blossom before him wilting away. Her hands slip down to rest on his shoulders, and it’s clear that he said something wrong. Perhaps he was presumptuous in suggesting that she wants anything at all. “I don’t mean to pressure you,” he says, trying not to let the desperation that he feels seep into his voice, “I just…I don’t want to fuck it up again.”

  She shakes her head, a nearly imperceptible twitch, and her fingers play at the collar of his shirt while she searches for words. 

  “It’s difficult for me to express what I want,” she says to his chin. “I’m not sure I even know what I want.”

  Initially, he’s struck with the sour churn of disappointment. How can they move forward if she doesn’t know what she wants? But she must know, or she wouldn’t have been so frustrated by his lack of response to her bids for attention. She wouldn’t have tried to stoke his jealousy with a poorly-timed date. 

  “You want me to take the lead,” he says, and it’s not a question. Her eyes snap up to his before they just as quickly dart away. She nods, the slightest bob of her chin, and he feels a rush of blood straight to his lap. He swallows, futilely attempting to keep his wits about him. “Do you promise that you’ll tell me if it’s too much or…too far?”

  Slowly, her eyes drag up the side of his neck and skitter across his cheek before they settle on his. She nods again, this time confidently and firmly. She knows him well enough to be sure that her message is clear. 

  Mulder reaches out, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her against him. Scully makes a surprised little squeak as her arms go around his neck and her pelvis crashes against his belly. 

  “Kiss me,” he says sternly, slipping his hands under the hem of her T-shirt to touch the velvety soft skin of her waist and back. 

  Scully complies, initiating a relatively chaste kiss that he quickly deepens with eager lips and tongue. His hands roam restlessly over her back, sides, belly, hips, before sliding down to cup her ass cheeks. She tastes like honeyed oak and salted tears, and while his fantasies have never cast her in a submissive light, he finds the way she’s deferring to him completely intoxicating. He stays acutely in tune with her body and the breathy little whimpers bubbling up from her throat, raptly watching for any sign of discomfort. But she’s only growing increasingly supple in his hands, leaning heavily into him and slowly pitching him backwards onto the mattress. When she’s nearly on top of him, he wraps his arms around her waist and tosses her onto the bed beside him, moving over her with carefully calculated urgency. 

  She looks up at him, eyes wide and lips swollen, her pupils nearly eclipsing the blue of her irises. He has one knee planted on either side of her thighs, his hands bracketing her head, and she tentatively reaches out and slips one of her hands under his T-shirt. He sits up long enough to strip it off, then watches her face as her eyes rake over his chest and belly. When she gets as far as his groin, her eyebrows lift a little, and she runs her tongue across her bottom lip. 

  “I want to see you,” he says, drawing her attention back to his face. 

  She blinks at him, not understanding, so he pushes her T-shirt up to expose her belly. Scully lifts her arms over her head, and he peels the blue fabric off her body slowly to reveal a simple nude bra, then sets out to kiss as much of her exposed skin as he can reach. Her hands are in his hair, scraping across his upper back, her hips wiggling endlessly beneath him. He clumsily stuffs one hand behind her back and struggles with the clasp of her bra, but when he finally gets it undone she tugs it off and flings it away from the bed, arching up in anticipation of the mouth that quickly wraps around one of her hardened nipples. 

  It’s then that she moans in earnest, not a barely concealed whimper or a noisy breath. He feels it rumble against his lips, feels her pelvis push up against his inner thighs, and makes a decision about where he’s going to take this. He doesn’t deserve any of it, doesn’t deserve her half nude beneath him, writhing and beautiful. But he’s going to give her what she deserves, what he took away from her with his own jealousy and pigheadedness. 

  He touches the button on her jeans, his lips still wrapped around her nipple, and her breathing picks up into something bordering on panting. He sits up so he can use both hands to unbutton her pants and draw the zipper down, taking his time so he can get a good long look at her splayed out against the ugly motel bedspread, her hair fanned out like flames and her chest heaving. 

  Scully glances to the bedside table and then back at him, looking markedly timid. 

  “Would it be okay to turn off the light?” she asks, suddenly self-conscious. 

  Wordlessly, he leans across her and snaps the bedside lamp off, leaving them in near pitch blackness. He briefly mourns the opportunity to see her completely nude, but her comfort is more important than his visual stimulation, and he hopes that this won’t be his only chance. 

  In the dark, the huff of her breath and the shuffle of fabric as he tugs her jeans off her hips are incredibly loud. He feels her hands on his belly, searching for the fly of his jeans, and he takes them and pushes them up over her head, briefly pinning them to the mattress. He holds them there for a beat, saying nothing, and then goes back to work divesting her of her jeans, though he leaves her panties on. He settles on his side next to her, the buttery warmth of her skin pressing into his chest and belly, and runs his palms over the hills and valleys of her body as he kisses her for endless minutes. Again, her hand finds the fly of his jeans, and again he pushes it away, but not before allowing her to feel just how hard he is. She threads her fingers through his hair instead, gently scratching at his scalp. 

  He slowly slides his hand down her belly, cupping her over her panties. The fabric is damp under the tips of his fingers, and his erection strains painfully against the fly of his jeans. Scully is breathing erratically into his mouth, too piqued for kissing, and when he gives her a gentle squeeze she lets out a strangled moan. 

  “Oh god,” she whimpers. “Please.”

  He slips his fingers behind the gusset of her panties, and his brain nearly short-circuits at the feel of her, slick and swollen. Scully gasps and arches into his hand, her fingernails digging painfully into his neck. 

  “Oh god, oh god,” she says urgently, her body curling around the point of contact between his hand and her soaking wet center. 

  Mulder groans, flexing his pelvis against her hip to get some relief. He’s not really making much effort, just sliding his fingers up and down over her vulva over and over as she steadily unravels. 

  “Mulder,” she says tightly, and he feels all her muscles tense. 

  She comes like a tsunami, slowly advancing with little indication of the power that lies below the tranquil surface. She’s stony silent, and he continues to stroke the swollen bud of her clit as she lies rigid in his arms, her mouth held open against his. Then her head falls back and she slackens, letting loose a throaty moan just before she begins to throb forcefully against his fingers. She loses herself completely, her voice rising and falling with wave after wave, and he doesn’t stop until she sighs and lifts her head to kiss him, at which point he slips his hand under the hem of her panties and pushes two fingers inside her to the second knuckle.

  “Oh god,” she says again, clamping down around his fingers. 

  Her second orgasm is slightly less intense, but it seems to go on for an eternity as he strokes her from the inside. Finally, she wraps her hand around his wrist to still him. 

  “I can’t. I can’t,” she says breathlessly, and he removes his hand and rests it over her belly. 

  He kisses her sweetly, stroking her sensitized skin as she slowly comes down. Tentatively, she touches his belly, her fingers fumbling down to brush over his still rock-solid erection. Mulder sighs, laying his hand over the top of hers. 

  “You don’t need to do that,” he says gently. 

  “What if I want to?” she asks, and he knows that she can feel him lurch against her hand. 

  “I’m trying to make the night up to you, Scully,” he says tightly, his resolve waning. 

  She rolls to her side to face him, and he takes the opportunity to grab a handful of her naked ass. She takes the opportunity to rub him firmly over his jeans, and he groans. 

  “You want to make it up to me?” Her voice is syrupy and playful, and he recognizes that she is no longer ceding control. “Then let me touch you.”

  She doesn’t wait for him to reply. She expertly pops the button on his jeans and lowers the zipper with one hand, delving under his boxers and taking hold of him confidently. Mulder’s entire body reacts, hairs standing on end and nipples tightening in response to her touch. 

  “Careful,” he says breathlessly. “Loaded weapon.”

  His joke falls flat, between his inarticulate delivery and the fact that she begins to pump her fist up and down over his shaft partway through it. He drops his forehead against hers, feeling supplicant and a little afraid. 

  “Scully,” he says pleadingly, and she kisses him once. 

  “It’s okay,” she says. 

  Mulder shakes his head. 

  “I don’t deserve this,” he says, even as he feels himself gathering, approaching the peak. 

  She kisses him again, lingering there as she continues to stroke him from root to tip. She somehow knows exactly the right pace, pressure, technique. She somehow knows exactly what he needs. She tucks her cheek against his, breathing hotly against his ear. 

  “Of course you do,” she tells him, running her palm across the head of his cock on an upstroke. 

  “I’m gonna come,” he whispers, like it’s a confession. Something he ought not to say. Something he ought not to do. 

  She flicks at his earlobe with her tongue, then sucks it between her lips and hums. It’s too much, the heat of her bare skin and the wet of her mouth, and her hand stroking and stroking. He pulls her firmly against him as fireworks burst behind his eyes and he comes so hard he stops breathing. Scully snakes her free arm under his neck to hold him close, and even when he’s no longer throbbing she gently cradles his softening cock in her hand, her touch so tender he could cry. 

  His jeans and boxers are a mess, as is the bedspread. They have no choice but to turn the light on so they can get cleaned up, and he gets a secret thrill when he spots the sheen of his semen on her belly. He works up the courage to ask her to stay, offering her one of his T-shirts to sleep in, and to his delight she accepts. 

  Nestled under the covers, her head against his bare chest and her leg slung over his thigh, he thinks that this might be the best part. Just getting to hold her. Just knowing that she’ll be there when he wakes up. He sighs and runs his hand over the crown of her head.

  “Hm?” she hums sleepily. 

  “Nothin’,” he says, giving her a squeeze. “Just…content, I guess.”

  He feels the stretch of her smile against his skin, and she gives him a squeeze in return. They are quiet for several minutes, and her slow, even breathing suggests that she may have fallen asleep. Mulder isn’t sure he’ll ever sleep again, as restlessly as his mind is poring over every detail of their whirlwind of an evening. He feels as though he’s been through heaven and hell then back again in the space of a few hours, and it strikes him that he could have had her wrapped up in his arms ages ago if he’d just had the courage to tell her how he feels. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the weight of her body resting against his, and the brush of her breath across his chest. He hopes this is only the first time of many, but in the event that this is his only chance, he doesn’t want to squander it. 

  “I think I might be in love with you,” he whispers into the dark, mildly surprised that he said the words out loud. 

  Scully doesn’t react, and his flash of adrenaline subsides. He promises himself that he’ll tell her soon, even if it scares him. He tries to relax, sinking further into the mattress and willing his brain to turn off. He’s drifting, teetering between sleep and wakefulness, and when she speaks he’s not immediately sure whether it’s a figment of his mind. 

  “I love you, Mulder.”

  He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. The moment feels so fragile, and he’s terrified of breaking it. But he needs her to know that he heard her, because he desperately wants to hear her say it again. 

  He sighs, and she lifts her head. He can’t see her, but he doesn’t need to. He drags her up onto him and she tucks her head under his chin, her body draped over his like a blanket. With his arms wrapped around her back it feels like they couldn’t possibly be any closer, and it still isn’t enough. She drops a kiss to the side of his neck, and tears prick at his eyes. 

  They fall asleep like that, tangled like vines and full of half-confessions. The path ahead is far from clear, but they are on it, which is more than he could have ever hoped for. More than he thinks he deserves. Despite his feelings of inadequacy, he knows that he won’t deny her anything, including himself. Maybe she deserves it enough for the both of them. 

Tagging @today-in-fic

[weirdoonskateboard]

More than anything from GTA VI, I want it to make me cry. I want it to be emotional, to be warm and humane even under all the cynical humor and innuendos and snide jabs about our culture. Rockstar has said in interviews that they don't want to punch down with their satire. They even removed a transphobic random encounter in the current gen versions of GTA 5. Also imagine his gta could work in representation in the game.

Imagine if we got a drag bar with IRL Florida drag queens. They gave Non-Binary pop artist Arca a radio station for gta online called Motomami(With Latin pop star Rosalia,great music set by the way, IT FUCKING SLAPS, I'LL REBLOG IT). Imagine maybe giving Lucia and Jason the opportunity to be more openly romantic. Remember Bully let you kiss boys, Jimmy Hopkins is canonically bisexual. I know people who were introduced to being bi through this game. And while GTA 4: The Ballad of Gay Tony evidently a bunch of straight guys idea of what queer culture is. It's still nice to sorta be seen by the series. And the characters that are openly homophobic are the antagonists you have to work with to deal with the club's debt.

Plus I have seen queer characters in these games being positively seen. Two character Bernie Crane in GTA 4, Reni Wassulmier in Liberty City and Vice City Stories are iffy depictions of queer people. Reni Claims to be "A little bit of everything, I'm universal" who is canonically gender fluid. I know people who resonate with these characters. There are a lot of good fan artists on tumblr who love Bernie. Also there's a shit ton of Luis Lopez X "Gay Tony" Prince.

There are spouts of Transphobia in the games, admittedly. There's a really bad radio as in San Andreas IYKYK. GTA is to many generations, their Mad Magazine. The edgy rebellious piece of art you know your parents didn't want you playing. They could be juvenile, clunky, gross, or just too edgy for its own good. But it introduced a lot of people to good music, films, shows, and subcultures)

I believe Rockstar has it in them to do better. To mature. To keep being the center of attention, to keep fighting the tainted ads and broken promises of the American Dream. To be heartfelt and show that even amidst the pain and suffering of living in America. That people find ways to keep fighting in the bizarre state of America right now. Maybe I'm too forgiving too these games due to nostalgia but I do believe that there is an art to these games.

PS, The Criminal Historian, the person who made the trans rep video has recently come out and is getting a lot of transphobic hate. If you could all counter that it would be greaaat.

[mariacallous]

Timofey Sozaev left Russia in September 2019. After nearly 20 years as an LGBTQ+ rights activist, cofounding several organizations, he found out, while visiting friends in the United States, that the Kremlin had become aware of his advocacy work. He didn’t go back.

It wasn’t an easy decision. Sozaev knew that not returning would mean “handing over everything that I love and that is valuable to me to the enemy: obscurantist homophobes, an inhuman political regime that will stop at nothing.” Still, while he was in the US, he realized he was experiencing symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder: depression, hypervigilance, problems sleeping, poor concentration. They got worse as the day of his scheduled return approached. “My psyche and body just told me ‘no,’” he says. He applied for asylum.

Five years later, life for LGBTQ+ Russians is even more harrowing than it was when Sozaev left. Over the past decade, building on the anti-“gay propaganda” laws that had targeted Sozaev, President Vladimir Putin has imposed further restrictions on the freedoms of queer citizens, citing a desire to return the country to “traditional family values.”

Last year, Russia enacted a law banning gender-affirming care. In March, the government added the “LGBT movement” to its list of extremist and terrorist organizations. It represents, says Ksen Pallegedara Murry, an Oregon-based family law attorney who works with LGBTQ+ clients and Russian immigrants, a “direct government campaign targeting the extermination of queers.” As authorities raid gay bars, queer Russians have moved off of open social networks and onto private Telegram chats to organize, socialize, and even find the support and resources necessary to flee.

“Telegram is now an empowerment tool for Russian LGBTQ+ people,” Sozaev says. It gives them the “opportunity to feel and see that they are not alone. This breaks down isolation and restores people's belief in their strengths.” Since arriving in the US, he has started his own Telegram channel to provide help to the Russian-speaking LGBTQ+ community in the US. It has more than 2,000 individual subscribers, a number that doesn’t include the people who view it without subscribing.

Sozaev’s channel is one of many, though exactly how many is all but impossible to determine. Roughly half of Russia’s 140 million residents use Telegram, so being on the messaging app itself doesn’t draw unwanted attention. Still, LGBTQ+ citizens routinely create new channels to avoid government surveillance and detection. Under Russia’s latest restrictions, any website deemed to have pro-LGBTQ+ content is added to a national block list, making it inaccessible without a VPN (and even VPNs are in jeopardy). Telegram is the next best option.

Because it allows for large group chats (channels can have unlimited subscribers; groups cap out at 200,000 people) as well as private messages, Telegram gives LGBTQ+ people in Russia and beyond the ability to help each other as a group or one-on-one. But it’s also not ironclad. There are constant worries of government surveillance, and the app has been a hub for the Kremlin’s anti-queer propaganda.

The presence of that propaganda also may provide a bit of cover, says Kyle Walter, global head of investigative research and innovation at Logically. Putin, for example, banned Facebook and Twitter/X in 2022 for failing to toe the line on Russia’s war in Ukraine. Because Telegram purports to be an agnostic platform, the Kremlin can keep its own messages on it while drowning out messages from actual queer Russians. “Because they're able to utilize Telegram so significantly in their propaganda and disinformation operations,” Walter says, “there's less of an onus to crack down on it.”

Still, Walter notes, there’s always speculation that the Kremlin has access to the platform’s backend data, and it’s risky to openly communicate on the platform as a queer person. (Telegram did not respond to several requests for comment on this story.)

This makes Telegram both an essential tool and one queer Russians use in secret. Adriana Espinosa, the director of cash assistance and emergency travel support with Rainbow Railroad, a nonprofit that helps at-risk LGBTQ+ people worldwide get to safety, explains that the organization is reliant on digital communication “with activists on the ground as well as persons facing persecution,” but wouldn’t say which messaging apps or platforms the organization uses, citing security concerns. Espinosa added that assisting queer people in Russia has become harder in recent months, and some grassroots orgs on the ground have had to cease operations.

“We cannot disclose specific details of how we support the relocation of individuals, as this would jeopardize their safety and our ability to support them,” Espinosa says. “The Russian LGBTQI+ community is resilient, and some individuals have found their own ways of leaving the country.”

Telegram’s centrality to the lives of Russians, LGBTQ+ and otherwise, dates back to its launch. Founded in Russia in 2013, Telegram now claims nearly a billion users worldwide. Practically since its founding, though, experts have wondered how safe those users’ data is. Although often referred to as “secure,” it only offers end-to-end encryption in its “secret” chats. On messaging apps like Signal, end-to-end encryption is the default.

Despite this, Telegram has become popular among groups worldwide looking to organize. In the US, it’s a hub for QAnon conspiracy theorists and extremists; it was also reportedly used by those calling for disruptions at President Joe Biden’s inauguration in 2021. Several far-right channels were kicked off the platform around the same time. It’s also been a gathering place for extremists in the UK and Ireland.

Iran outright banned Telegram in 2018 after it was used to organize street protests against the regime the previous year. The ban had serious implications for activists, journalists, and others seeking to exchange information. Russia also attempted to block the app in 2018, after founder Pavel Durov refused to hand over user data to the Kremlin. Those efforts ultimately failed, and the ban was lifted in 2020. Durov made a similar commitment to protect the data of users in Ukraine following Russia’s invasion of that country in 2022. Security experts expressed concern, but Telegram has remained a popular news and communication tool in the region.

Telegram’s prevalence as a far-right hub in some parts of the world and a place for both pro- and anti-LGBTQ+ content in Russia gets at broader questions of moderation and regulation on social media platforms. Any platform that’s not trying to crack down on any type of content, Walter notes, will become “a place where people who are not able to express themselves freely on mainstream platforms are gonna move, because they just feel safer posting there.”

As Russia’s war in Ukraine has continued, it has embarked on a campaign to eradicate what it sees as the West’s influence, including acceptance of queer people. Walter notes that some anti-LGBTQ+ Telegram propaganda campaigns in the region go so far as to claim Ukraine is training its soldiers to be gay. Nine months into the conflict, the country’s parliament passed a law criminalizing attempts to promote “nontraditional sexual relations” in everything from movies to ads to online posts.

“The restrictions, which render life precarious for LGBT+ individuals in Russia, have a much more ambitious purpose—to consolidate conservative support at home and position Russia as the defender of ‘traditional values,’” Graeme Reid, the director of Human Rights Watch’s LGBTQ+ rights program, wrote last year. That precariousness has only increased in the year since.

Before Sozaev fled Russia, his primary organizing tool and social media hub had been Facebook. A Russian court banned Facebook, along with Instagram, in 2022, labeling the Meta platforms as “extremist.” The ruling spared WhatsApp, but for organizers like Sozaev, Telegram has become their meeting place.

Still, LGBTQ+ people remain cautious. Some of their public Telegram channels have been targeted, indicating that the government is watching. Anyone who uses their real name on the app risks investigation. Sozaev explains that people often encourage each other to delete the Telegram app from their phones before trying to cross the border. Their devices could be searched, and the presence of the app could put them in jeopardy and prevent them from being allowed out of the country. Telegram groups also provide tutorials instructing LGBTQ+ people on what they should do if they are being questioned by Russian authorities.

“Just going on our Telegram channel and seeing concrete steps for how people get out” and then finding community with other LGBTQ+ Russians is what is most effective, says Maxim Ibadov, the national coordinator for RUSA LGBTQ+, a nonprofit formed in 2008 to support Russian-speaking queer people in the US.

There are about 1,000 people on RUSA LGBTQ+’s Telegram channel, and although most members are US-based, people in Russia frequently reach out to the organization looking for ways out of the country. Often, people active in the chat connect people looking to escape with organizations like Rainbow Railroad. Others share strategies for where they crossed the border.

Ibadov notes that Telegram is one of the primary ways their organization connects with people trying to leave Russia and community members who have recently arrived in the US and need support rebuilding their lives. “They don’t know where to go, and they might not have the desire or comfort to go to our in-person events at first,” Ibadov explains, noting that being able to follow the RUSA LGBTQ+’s Telegram is a way to build trust and confidence in the organization and its members.

Telegram also helps RUSA LGBTQ+ community leaders know what kinds of support their members need. The organization recently started a Telegram chat for queer-identifying parents after a lesbian couple who made it to the US from Russia reached out looking for opportunities for their children to connect with other kids.

The interactive nature of Telegram also lends itself to community members providing mutual aid to each other. Ibadov says that often someone will come to their Telegram channel to ask about how to access health care or legal support, and before RUSA LGBTQ+ staff or volunteers can respond, numerous community members will have already weighed in.

Ibadov notes that for many LGBTQ+ people in Russia, Telegram is one of the few places they can see people living openly. As a result, they see their organization’s presence on the platform as vital not just for providing resources but also giving hope. “LGBTQ+ people in Russia can’t [publicly] fight; we have to fight for them here,” they say, “so there is hope for them there.”