#but trying to pin down whether something definitively IS one thing or another is a fruitless exercise

[epicdogymoment]

begging people to understand that labels and categories are not inherently meaningful without context. and that whether or not any label is actually useful changes from context to context (including from person to person). and that trying to pin something or someone down as BEING a particular label (rather than something being labelled as a certain thing) is meaningless and unhelpful

[xaviever]

pls write more nerd!xavier anything i needdd him

˖ 𑣲 another nerd!xavier thought dump …

cw. fluff + suggestive content. dryhumping.

nerd!xavier who spends his afternoons hidden away in your campus's library, boredly skimming through his sections of interest for something he hasn't read yet. he ends up sound asleep atop a generous stack of astronomy textbooks, not even having gotten past the table of contents of the very first one (he's read it front to back already).

nerd!xavier who has many cutesy little keychains and trinkets from his hobbies hanging off of his belongings. tiny figurines of some of his favorite characters on his bookbag, pins of emblems from his favorite vintage games, and your fave, a tiny star tassel on one of his zippers. ◡̈

nerd!xavier who finds you every time there's any kind of peer work in class, always first to murmur the question of whether or not you've got a partner. he wants to work with you on everything. small discussions, paper reviewing, group projects; he needs to hear all your perspectives, your unique ideas.

nerd!xavier who starts visiting campus events in his free time, just in case you're there. not usually his thing at all, and he makes a great effort to duck and dodge all his classmates he recognizes who have definitely asked him out to something like this before. he overheard you once talking to a friend about a club fair, spending an embarrassingly long time later trying to find one of his forgotten academic calendars to see when it was. he’s elated when you spot him, mumbling some lame excuse about just stopping by when you ask why he came.

nerd!xavier rambling about his favorite comic book series. you enabled him, asking him to teach you the lore knowing it spans over years, ridiculously long to recount. but oh, you are so persuasive, pretty, kind eyes looking up at him all sincere... and he's almost vibrating at the opportunity to infodump. his soft, collected tone rising just a bit as he begins, boyish from his excitement. just the cutest. you'd pinch his cheeks if you could, so enamored by his passion for his interests.

nerd!xavier struggling to continue when you somehow end up in his lap, arms draped around his neck, rocking back and forth against his growing erection. you lost the battle around ten minutes in, cause, wow, he’s really into this. he moans softly, jittery hands digging into the mattress below to conceal the lust clouding his thoughts shamefully fast. you push up his glasses with a knuckle, cupping his face with one hand to keep his doe eyes on you. you urge xavier to keep talking, it’s so interesting, wanna hear more, please. his brain short circuits.

nerd!xavier with a sleeper build. he doesn't work out and doesn't pay much attention to what he eats either... something something genetics something something metabolism — who cares? finally getting under all those baggy sweatshirts and hoodies is like a reward, his royally sculpted body heaving above you, moving you to and fro with ease, his only deterrent from using all his strength being his nerves.

nerd!xavier who forgets his glasses one day. an angry alarm is his rude awakening one morning, yelling at him as he rushes out of his dorm to his early lecture. he goes through the day squinting and sleepy, the sweetheart. you catch glimpse of him down the hall and wave, and as xavier would recognize you in any form, he has little (moderate) trouble making out your figure before you get closer. blush as red as roses adorns his cheeks when you invade his space, eagerly taking in all his features without the obstruction of his frames, though you note with a cute, little pout how you miss them. he makes sure not to forget again, for your sake...and his.

— authors note. first part! thank u anon for indulging me i literally only think abt him. these thoughts r much more scattered than the first one sorryyyy. dryhumping your nerdy bf while he yaps anyone... nerd!xavier full fic is calling to me...

[oikasugayama]

HOW HE F--KS YOU

pt. 1 Dazai, Ranpo, Ango | pt. 2 Chuuya, Kunikida, Tachihara | pt. 3 Poe, Atsushi, Fukuzawa

Complete smutty filth. MDNI. several anatomies but no genders mentioned!!

Dazai

He fucks you possessively.

Whether you're only hooking up or in a relationship, he's making sure you know he's in charge. He's the one giving you pleasure. He's gonna mark you up with hickeys and bruises and make you sore and tired so you remember him later and others might notice where he's been touching you.

He'll definitely say something like "whose pussy/ass is this?" while fucking you hard, holding you down or pressing your body into the mattress. He'll keep asking and keep making you say "it's yours Dazai, this is your pussy" until he's satisfied you not only know it but you believe it. You are his plaything and you're going to know that.

As much as he acts like a brat to piss off his friends, in the bedroom he's a brat tamer. The more whiny and squirmy you are, the more he feels like he has to pin you down and teach you to behave. If you tell him no (in a safe way, of course), say you don't want to, or try to deny him what he wants (still within the confines of your previous consenting arrangements!!), he has to punish you. It's just how it works. His voice gets low and serious when he's pissed, but it makes you even hornier because you know the best fucks you've ever gotten from him are when he's taming you.

He's not opposed to fucking you in public if he feels like you need it, or if he needs to mark his territory. Once you were out together and another man dared to hit on you and touch you while Dazai was right there. Instead of getting mad at the man, Dazai invited him to sit with the two of you. The man only left when he eventually realized that as soon as you sat down Dazai started feeling you up and fingering/stroking you under the table.

Ranpo

He fucks you lazily.

His favorite position involves both of you on your sides, your back to his chest, and his dick inside you. He likes when you squirm back onto him, he likes thrusting lazily into you, he likes playing with your nipples from behind you, he likes nibbling on your shoulder/neck and saying filthy things in your ear.

Sex can last for hours on your laziest days. Every time he feels an orgasm build, he stops moving, just cockwarms in you for a while, and eventually you start squirming or he gets impatient and thrusts again.

Ranpo is also fond of face-sitting. You sitting on his face, of course. He doesn't much care to have his ass eaten, (though he does let you if you ask) but he eats you out like a champ. Maybe it's all the experience he has licking on lollipops and sucking sugar off his fingers, but who's to say. Regardless, his tongue is vicious and unrelenting and when he gets his fingers involved he can get you to cum on his face in less than 3 minutes.

When he gets you super overstimulated he knows you'll squirt for him. That's his favorite time to get you on his face, because he wants you to squirt on him. He wants to lap it up and gulp it down. He's a cum eater for sure and he doesn't care what other fluids are in the squirt-- he wants to drink it.

Ango

He fucks you guiltily.

He loves you. You are not allowed to know that. He told himself that he could only mess around with you if he kept you at an arm's length. It's for your own good, really. For your protection. He's too wanted. Too hated. Anyone dear to him will be taken away. It's better that no one knows how he really feels about you, not even you.

But he can't stop himself from seeing you. It's so easy to walk by your office and stand in the doorway. So easy to close the door behind him when you invite him in. So easy to fall to his knees in front of you and kiss up your thighs as you spread them. He eats you out like he's worshiping you. His tongue may move slowly, but he has a pattern he follows-- a flick here, a suckle there-- and it always gets you to cum.

He won't ever stop unless he's sure you've orgasmed. When you sneak into his apartment, or he sneaks into yours, he'll suck till his jaw is sore or thrust until his thighs are quaking. He'll cramp and hurt and exhaust himself but he will not stop until you're satisfied. After all, it's his only time with you. He's happy for it to last a long time.

His favorite position is missionary because he likes to look at you, right there in front of him, the person of his dreams. Your face twists up so cutely. The hot breath you expel when you moan sends shivers down his spine. He likes every hair, lump, bump, scar, jiggle that your body has to offer. Sometimes he gets overwhelmed with how much he wants needs you that he has to hide his face against your neck and fight back tears while he keeps rutting into you, hoping you don't notice anything's wrong.

[yuujispunches]

Intimacy with Suguru Geto HC

Pairing: Suguru Geto x fem!reader

Summary: headcannons about what it would be like to be intimate with Suguru.

CW (content warning): talk about sex, mentions of oral sex (both f and m receiving), mentions of masturbation, praise kink, smut under the cut MDNI (+18), this is pretty much smut without any plot.

AN (author’s note): Hi! So this is my second time posting this because I accidentally deleted my original post because it wasn’t showing up on the tags and I was trying to fix it 💀 This one was requested, I’m currently working on another request as well as a Yuji one-shot. This was my first writing smut so please bare with me. As always a reminder that English isn’t my first language and I’m typing this on my phone so I’m sorry if there are any typos/mistakes. Enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send them! (you can check the list of character sI write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

Intense and controlled.

Geto doesn’t rush, he absolutely loves taking his time with you. He’s methodical and deliberate, every touch is calculated to get the reaction he wants from you, taking his time to read your reactions watch the way you react to his touches, the way he can see goosebumps forming on your skin as he kissed down your body, hearing the sound you make. He likes control, not in a cruel way, but because he enjoys understanding you deeply and guiding the experience. He would never soy no to a quickie, but he definitely prefers taking his time.

Eye contact

As we said, Geto definitely loves watching you. He makes sure to lock eyes with you often, not just out of passion but because he wants to see everything: your pleasure, your hesitation, your trust. He loves just watching you, whether it was him making you get yourself off or even when you’re just in plain missionary. He definitely makes you look at him whenever you cum. It’s part of how he connects emotionally. And if you look up at him while you’re on your knees for him? Yeah he’s definitely a goner.

Soundproof.

It’s not like Geto is quiet but he’s not loud either. He lets out breathy moans in your ear, pants and heavy breathing heard in the room. He knows is presence alone is commanding, he doesn't need to raise his voice to make you feel the weight of his desire or his authority. You’ll always feel watched, wanted, and chosen. One thing he does love is calling you pet names, specially Angel.

Praise.

Geto definitely has a praise kink, whether it’s hik praising you or the other way around. Even when he’s rough he’s moaning in your ear telling you how good you feel, how amazing you look or how good you’re taking him in. As your body tenses, legs trembling, breath catching, his voice stays with you low, steady, coaxing. “Just like that... you’re doing so well for me.” He’s proud of being the one that brought you so much pleasure, he almost holds it like it’s something sacred. And afterward, he kisses your knuckles, your cheeks, your thighs, grounding you as if to say: you are cherished, even here.

When you’re the one that praises him it never fails to make him loose it, even on the days where he’s rougher. All it takes is you telling him something among the lines of: “No one touches me like you do.” And he growls into your ear, low and dangerous: “Say that again.” He wants to hear it. Over and over. Wants you to tell him he’s better, that he’s all you want, that he’s the only one who can wreck you and hold you afterward. Because if he can be that to you, maybe he’s not completely lost.

Pace and exceptions.

As it was said before, Suguro loves taking his time with you, however there is one situation where he can’t control himself and that’s when he’s sent out on missions, being obligated to spend too much time away from you for his liking. He doesn’t speak. Just grabs your jaw and kisses you hard, dragging you back into his body like you might vanish if he loosens his grip. You try to ask how the mission went he cuts you off with his mouth and lifts you onto the nearest surface. His voice is rough when he finally speaks: “Later. I need you now.” He strips you fast, barely breaking eye contact, pupils blown wide. His hand closes around your throat, thumb stroking just under your jaw not tight, just enough to hold you in place. His other hand is already between your thighs, fingers slicking through your wetness as he mutters, “Look at you already ready for me. You missed this, didn’t you?”

Little reminders.

It’s not like he means to mark you, but when he sees the reminders of the night before on your skin he loves it. Geto's hands clutch your hips as he thrusts into you from behind, pace relentless. Your back arches, your hands claw at the sheets, and he holds you in place like he can’t risk letting you go. He’s panting now soft curses slipping from his mouth as your body tightens around him. You glance back, and the look in his eyes is wild not just aroused, but desperate. Like he’s trying to lose himself in you completely. His grip on your hips is so tight that you’re sure that the day after you would have bruises of the shape of his fingertips.

And you were right. The next morning when you’re changing he catches a glimpse of the bruises on your hips and a few hickeys he didn’t even remember giving you here and there. He pulls you in by the waist, kisses them again, then whispers, “You wear me so well. Like you were made for this.”

Aftercare.

Geto always makes sure that you’re taken care of after the both of you are finished, although the way he does it depends on the kind of day he was having.

When he had a bad day once it’s over, he collapses beside you, breath ragged. He doesn’t say anything. But his arm slides around your waist and pulls you close, burying his face in your neck. You feel the tension leave him, slowly, like your skin is the only thing keeping him tethered to the present. And even if he never says it, you feel it in the way his body curls into yours. After a while he gets up, getting a towel and cleaning you up throughly before getting back into bed with you, his arms holding you a bit tighter.

On the good days though? He absolutely loves to dote on you, even running baths for you. He loved getting in the bath behind you and holding you. The water is warm, fragrant with oils, and he slides into the tub with you, pulling you back into his chest. His arms wrap around your waist, his chin rests on your shoulder, and for long minutes he says nothing, just kisses your damp temple and lets the silence be tender. His fingers rub small, slow circles over your hips. “You were perfect,” he murmurs eventually, breath warm against your skin.

tags: @chigiridrider1

Taglists are open so let me know if you want to be added! :)

[solxamber]

AAA I love all your writing and im obsessive with the way you write i just wanna eat it ANYWAYS for the Valentine's event

Jamil, Romantic, Stephanie by Nafeesisboujee

"I think we're meant to be" || Jamil Viper

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Stephanie by Nafeesisboujee

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 690

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Lovesick! Jamil

It was reckless, really, the way you kept letting Jamil in. Jamil Viper—always so guarded, always so composed, the living embodiment of control—was unraveling in your hands, and he didn't even try to hide it anymore.

You were trouble from the moment you met him, all sharp smiles and shameless glances, slipping past every one of his carefully constructed defenses like it was easy.

He told himself you didn’t matter. You were a distraction at best, a mistake he could afford to make just once. But that was a lie, and deep down he knew it even as he fed himself the excuse.

You lounged across his bed like you owned it, wearing one of his hoodies, sleeves too long, baring just enough skin to make his hands itch with the need to touch you.

His phone buzzed again—another text from you, playful and infuriating—and he didn’t even hesitate before unlocking it. You kept pulling him back in, message after message, late night after late night, until his self-restraint became nothing more than a memory.

He answered you because he wanted to. Because you made it so damn easy to forget why he ever thought resisting you was the right thing to do.

"You up?"

"Miss me yet?"

"Bet you're thinking about me."

And he was. Constantly. In the middle of long, exhausting days, in the silence of his own thoughts, when he should have been focusing on anything but the feel of your mouth against his throat or the way you laughed into his kisses.

He hated the way you haunted him. He hated that he craved you anyway. Every time you touched him—soft fingers sliding into his hair, teasing kisses at the corner of his mouth—he slipped a little further.

Every time you pulled him into your orbit, he stopped caring about whether it was smart, whether it was safe. It wasn’t, and it never would be.

You didn’t make promises. Neither did he. That was the unspoken agreement, the dangerous game you played together. He wasn't yours, and you weren't his. You both knew it.

But when you curled your fingers into the front of his shirt and tugged him into another kiss, Jamil couldn't find it in himself to pull away. You tasted like trouble and freedom, like something forbidden he couldn't help indulging in over and over again.

"You like me, don't you?" you teased one night, voice low and lazy against his ear, your breath sending a shiver down his spine. He turned his head, refusing to meet your eyes, stubborn even now.

"Definitely not," he said, his voice far steadier than he felt.

You laughed, bright and cruel and beautiful, and kissed him anyway.

It was infuriating how you always knew. Infuriating how he let you. You pushed your hand under his hoodie, fingertips skating along the skin of his side, and his breath hitched before he caught your wrist and pinned it against his chest. His heart was pounding so hard it hurt, and when you grinned, victorious, he nearly cursed out loud.

"Especially, huh?" you murmured.

He should have walked away from you. Should have shut the door the first time you leaned in with that mischievous glint in your eye. But he didn’t. He never did.

He stayed, again and again, because the thought of leaving you behind hurt more than anything else. It terrified him, how badly he wanted you, how badly he needed you even when he told himself he didn’t.

Jamil pressed his forehead to yours, his hand tangled in your hair, breathing in the scent of you, the feel of you, like you were something he could memorize if he just tried hard enough. "You're going to ruin me," he whispered against your mouth, each word laced with something bitter and desperate and real.

You smiled against his lips, so gentle, so certain. "Then let's make it worth it," you whispered back.

And Jamil, brilliant, careful, impossible Jamil, didn’t resist. He gave in—helplessly, willingly, hopelessly—falling deeper every time you kissed him. Even knowing he colud never keep you, even knowing he might destroy himself trying, he still chose you.

Again. And again. And again.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[fear-is-truth]

Wanna try out some freaky positions? The Evans and their favorite positions

⋆𐙚 ₊ the evans & their fav positions .ᐟ

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ jimmy darling ‧ james patrick march ‧ kai anderson ‧ austin sommers | content warning : nsfw. mdni

a/n: the way my jaw dropped when i read the first sentence.. you really got me with that one, anon

⟢ 𝓣𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝓛𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍.

tate’s preferences in the bedroom are deeply tied to his need for emotional intimacy and reassurance.

missionary would be his favourite. it’s vulnerable, intimate, and allows for maximum connection, which is what tate craves more than anything else. he’d interlock fingers with you, pressing your hands into the mattress or holding them tightly.

eye contact would be everything to him. he’d want to look directly into your eyes, searching for reassurance, love, and validation. to tate, that kind of closeness makes him feel safe.

he’d constantly check in with you, softly asking, “is this okay?” or “how does it feel?” not just to make sure you’re comfortable, but because he genuinely needs the verbal affirmation to know he’s doing something right—something that makes you happy.

⟢ 𝓚𝐈𝐓 𝓦𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

missionary would be kit’s favourite position most of the time. it feels intimate, allows for deep connection, and fits his “good ol’ fashioned lover-boy” nature perfectly. he’s all about closeness—pressing his forehead to yours, whispering sweet nothings, and holding you tightly like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

he’s the type of guy who cherishes the little details, like brushing hair out of your face, kissing your shoulders, and holding eye contact.

that said, cowgirl would also be a common occurrence, especially after a long day of work. kit works himself to the bone providing for your family, so sometimes he’s just exhausted when he gets home. he loves when you take the lead, because it makes him feel so loved to just lay back, relax, and let you take care of him.

he’s a little shy at first with letting you take control, but once he sees how much fun you’re having, he’s all in—hands on your hips, guiding you on his cock, his face in awe like you’ve hung the moon.

psychologically, kit’s approach to intimacy is about balance. he wants to feel needed and strong, like he’s protecting and loving you in the best way he can, but he also loves it when you take charge because it shows him how much you trust him.

no matter the position, kit’s main goal is making sure you’re happy. he’d always put your comfort and pleasure first.

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝓚𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝓢𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

kyle is a hopeless romantic at heart, so missionary is definitely his favourite. this position lets him stay close, keep eye contact, and show you how much he cares.

face-off (you in his lap) would also be a favorite. kyle loves having you close, with your arms wrapped around him. it’s perfect for when you’re both in a lazy, cuddly mood, plus he gets to kiss you all over.

⟢ 𝓙𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝓓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆.

doggy style/ backshots? oh absofuckinlutely. he’s got that intense focus that comes out when he’s in control. guiding you with his hands on your hips, setting the pace in a borderline animalistic hunger.

standing positions are another go-to for jimmy. he’s the type to sweep you up, pin you against a wall (or a caravan) and let’s just say that the whole camp would know that y’all are having a good time.

despite the roughness, jimmy’s incredibly attuned to your reactions. he’s always making sure he’s not crossing a line, even if he doesn’t always verbalise it. his care comes through in the way he adjusts to you—whether it’s slowing down, holding you tighter, or kissing the back of your neck to reassure you.

⟢ 𝓙𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝓟𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝓜𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇.

at the beginning of your courtship, james would stick to missionary. it’s traditional, intimate, and allows for eye contact, which he values deeply—especially in those early moments when he’s still courting you with his old-world charm.

but as the relationship progresses, james lets his more “adventurous” side take the wheel. his love for theatrics and flair seeps into everything he does. suddenly, missionary evolves into backshots, or a shift in scenery to somewhere unexpected, like the grand dining table or on a bloody mattress with someone’s corpse on it. he loves variety and drama.

james is also a switch. there are times when he’s completely dominant, but when he’s in the mood? it’s a whole different story. he would relinquish control willingly, finding an almost masochistic joy in being at your mercy. his love for you transcends his ego—he enjoys seeing what you’d do with him, as long as it’s tasteful (or, in his words, “inspired”)

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝓚𝐀𝐈 𝓐𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

doggy-style would absolutely be his top choice most of the time. it’s the most dominant position, and kai thrives on power—control, detachment, and him being the one to dictate the pace. it also lets him keep a certain emotional distance when he’s not in the mood to be vulnerable. if he’s feeling particularly guarded, he’d focus entirely on the physical aspect, avoiding eye contact altogether.

but when he’s in a more open headspace (which is rare but happens when he’s really invested in you), he’d shift to more intimate positions like missionary. he’d want to see your expressions, study the way you react to him. eye contact in this context would feel like a way to assert emotional dominance, as if he’s drawing something deeper out of you without having to say anything.

psychologically, kai’s interest in these positions ties into his obsessive need for control. missionary and doggy are not only great for physical connection but also align with his breeding kink. both are often touted as best for conception would appeal to him (….messiah baby. yeah)

ultimately, kai’s choice would depend entirely on his mood and his level of trust in the moment. when he feels secure, he craves the intimacy of seeing your face; when he doesn’t, he defaults to positions that allow him to stay in charge and keep his emotions in check.

⟢ 𝓐𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝓢𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒.

69 is a definite go-to for him. he enjoys the balanced give and take, both physically and mentally. the equal focus allows him to be in his head while still being present. and let’s be real—between eating you out, he’d probably says something like, “i need this, it helps the inspiration flow” because, to him, sex is both a release and a source of creativity.

cowgirl is another favourite, especially when he’s feeling a bit lazy or wants to just enjoy the view of your tits. he likes how it allows him to sit back, relax, and watch you bounce on his cock, all while he gets to think about whatever creative project he’s working on. it’s almost as if he’s got his mind on his latest writing but still completely invested in you. he’d probably appreciate the rhythm and focus, using it as an opportunity to zone out while still being completely physical.

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[hitlikehammers]

oh golden boy (don't act like you were kind)

part ii: you shined a light on your home

for @kultiras at the ❄️ Winter @steddieexchange 🖤💚

<<< part one

Eddie will not pretend he doesn’t squeak when Dustin bustles past him into the house—a wholly appropriate ranch on the edge of town, with two whole separate bedrooms, no one on the couch anymore, plus a little side room that Eddie thinks probably wasn’t meant as a guest room but can definitely fit about three sleeping bags, four at a push—but yeah, he should have expected Dustin to shove his way into Eddie’s home whether Eddie invited it or not.

He doesn’t have to like it. Or approve of it. Or tolerate it without complaint; without pushing back.

“Hend—” he tries to sound stern, tries to project hand-on-hips-authority like St—

Like some people do. Sometimes. So Eddie’s heard.

“Implied consent!” Dustin cuts him off, voice carrying from at least the living room already, Jesus fuck, this kid; his tone.

Eddie’s glaring hard enough to almost definitely bore a hole through this shithead’s skull, or maybe make him spontaneously combust. If Supergirl was the one glaring, it’d be a done deal.

“You didn’t shut the door, thereby participating in the creation of an entrance,” Dustin’s rambling on and Christ, but he’s such a pompous little fuck sometimes.

“Which is great, and super smart of you,” Dustin tells him earnestly, actually, and wow: if that isn’t condescending, holy fuck; “because the quicker we can address the problem, the quicker it can be solved,” and then he’s turning of his heel and fucking…clapping his hands to together like Eddie’s in goddamn kindergarten.

“So!” Dustin barks with a weird enthusiasm. “Now we can talk about what you did to Steve, and how you’re gonna fix it.”

Eddie blinds at him for a couple couple seconds before throwing his hands up and half-kinda snarling, half-kinda whining:

“What the fuck, man?”

And honestly, Eddie’s torn just now between hurt and angry, indignant and bleeding out a little, because he doesn’t like Dustin accusing him blindly, here, and while he’s long grown past thinking the hero worship was unfounded—honestly, if he’s going to have to think about the man explicitly instead of as the understood ‘you’ that the constant ache of him and his absence has settled as in Eddie’s universe: he thinks what he clocked as hero worship in the beginning probably could have used some bulking up, because…the genuine article was so much more than even the stories Eddie’d refused to believe at the start.

But, back it up: Eddie…Eddie can accept Dustin coming to Steve’s defense—encouraged it, even. But, like, Dustin has stood up for Eddie, too, and just…Eddie didn’t do anything, he’s spent enough cold nights with his arms stretched missing what they’d learned so well to wrap around and hold so close, mourning what’s not there and hell yes, he’s run down every little detail he can think of, where he might have been the one to drive Steve away without ever, ever meaning to, and it boils down the same every time: there’s nothing.

He wishes there was. Because then yeah, like Dustin’s saying—there’d be something to fix. Something to do, to try and salvage what Eddie is entirely aware was very probably the love of his fucking life.

But there isn’t.

“Clearly something is wrong between the two of you,” Dustin gestures broadly in the air, extravagant for no reason but then also it kinda fits entirely because this entire heartbreak of an affair is basically the most devastating thing that’s ever tried to take Eddie down, and he was basically dead in another dimension that one time, so.

That’s saying something, is what he’s getting at.

“And like, I’ve watched when Steve’s been the one to fuck up, man, so like, I can recognize the signs and,” Dustin shakes his head, looks not exactly apologetic but not entirely all-in guns-blazing about pinning the blame on Eddie alone. At least not without giving him a fair shake to explain first.

Which he’d do, if he had any fucking idea what caused them to crash and burn when they’d been the most solid thing Eddie had ever seen, let alone been a part of; got to feel for himself.

“I know Steve,” Dustin says carefully, kinda slow, almost reluctant, which Eddie doesn’t really get until the next part comes out, a little choked, like tears muscled down:

“I’ve never seen him like this.”

Well. Fuck.

Fuck.

“It’s the holidays, man,” Eddie tries to make it sound casual, or at the very least genuine, like his pulse hasn’t jumped for the idea that Steve’s…not okay. Not fucking thriving like he deserves, now that Eddie’s out of the way of what makes him as happy as he should always be. “Sometimes people are just a little down in the dumps, it’s not unheard of,” and he thinks that lands okay, those are all true things, no one needs to know the way his heart’s thumping like a rabbit as his head goes to all sorts of horrible possibilities, and he shouldn’t let himself slide down those pathways anymore, it’s not his business, Steve isn’t—

“He’s not just sad,” Dustin shakes his head; “he’s not,” and he trails off and Eddie’s heartbeat stutters then jackhammers wild for the way Dustin’s face crumples over a fucking interminable stretch of moments that drives every horror possible through fragile arteries not prepared for how much it hurts, laced with the acids at the base of Eddie’s throat and rising, banged around with every beat and—

“I don’t think he’s sleeping,” Dustin says, so quiet, hard to tell if there are actual tears of just the threat of them. “I don’t think he’s eating,” and he takes a shaky breath that gets mirrored in Eddie’s blood, sniffles as he adds on, kinda desperate, fraying at the seams: “Robin can’t even…”

He stops, breathes a couple of times and collects himself—too good at that. Eddie…

Eddie doesn’t even try to do that, for his part. He’s not…strong, like these kids. Like the rest of this little rag-tag-trauma family unit. Eddie isn’t built that impermeable. S’why he’s always had to put on a show, scare people off before they get close enough to see the obvious.

Until…Steve.

And the proof of Eddie’s weaknesses are front and centre right now, so. Case in point.

“I met him right after he and Nancy broke up,” Dustin’s saying after he takes the time to regroup, huffing a breath and furrowing his brows at nothing, until: “after she did the,” and he circles his wrist around again and oh. Oh.

Bullshit.

Eddie’s brow furrows, too, at that.

“I didn’t know it at the time, obviously, and not like I was really paying attention anyway,” Dustin screws up his face a little, like he’s angry at a lot of people for what he’s remembering, and he’s not exempt from his own list; “but you said it yourself, you thought they were meant to be,” Dustin points at him in the sort of way that presses down on Eddie’s shoulders, makes him feel queasy and just…small.

“Unmitigated love, or whatever,” Dustin half-sneers and he doesn’t think that was the word he used but fuck if Eddie’s not transported back to those woods, to those first inklings that his heart was gonna leap and know it couldn’t stick the landing, would less crack and more like splatter, a messy ruin on the sidewalk for trying, for reaching when there was nothing to hook with a grip—

Except there had been, in the end. He hadn’t known it then—just reveled in the way it felt to brush arms against that man, to lean close enough to feel his heat in the frigid deadspace that was the hellscape they were trekking through.

But the end, as it has come anyway, did in fact leave him a fucking spatter-scape on the concrete, exactly the same as he’d feared at the start.

But Dustin fucking Henderson hadn’t been there when Eddie was making eyes at Mr. Former High School Royalty, so—

“How the fuck do you—”

“Doesn’t matter how,” Dustin waves him off like he’s a fucking idiot for asking a question that’s beneath his concern for the topic at hand. “Youthought that,” he rocks forward in emphasis and okay, fine, yeah. Eddie had thought that.

It’d taken a long fucking while for Eddie to stop thinking it; he’s tried not to wonder, now, if he was foolish to ever stop thinking it.

But: no. Of all the reasons Steve got sick of him, he doesn’t think it was because Steve decided to want Nancy. He remembers every word Steve told him about that time, and how Eddie knew it was downplayed for how much Steve took the brunt of her rejection, for how generous Steve was in hindsight to remember how it went down; how genuinely worrisome it was to know Steve actually saw himself as deserving what he’d gotten.

Still. Back in the Upside Down, Eddie had thought it. Told him to get it back. Couldn’t fathom her not seeing the error of her ways even before he comprehended just how egregious her errors ran the first time, just how little even unambiguous signs of love might still fail to deserve Steve Harrington.

But before he knew: he had thought he understood well enough to judge.

Just more reasons for Eddie Munson to quality as an unmitigated idiot.

“So when he lost that,” Dustin’s picking back up again, has got his explaining cap on, trying to map a diagram or some shit, save that it’s Steve and it feels…insufficient in every way, insulting at that, to think Steve could ever be made…simple like that. Cut and dry.

Eddie bristles at it. Maybe he doesn’t have the right anymore, but: Dustin sure as fuck does, and needs to do better.

“He was still okay enough, after that, to fucking join a quest for demodogs and get beat to hell by a psychopath,” Dustin’s saying with the kind of gravity all of a sudden that feels up to reshaping the world; “all just to protect some kids he didn’t even know.”

Eddie can feel where this is headed, can see the lead up to where Dustin’s going to drop them.

He wishes like hell that he couldn’t.

“So if he’s like this, now,” and Dustin sounds…fucking distraught, like all the posturing of pressuring Eddie to reveal what the hell had gone wrong, what he’d done to destroy them, to lose his Steve: the anger and the bafflement was all secondary.

The kid’s fucking scared.

And this kid? Who’s stared down certain death, who’s jumped after Eddie’s stupid ass when the end was imminent, no question?

That…that ratchets Eddie’s pulse up, considerably. For what it has to…mean.

“I have never,” and Dustin’s voice is kind of raspy, kind of too strained and Eddie…Eddie thinks it’d be shitty of him to say that Dustin only sounds like he’s struggling with a fraction of what Eddie’s starting to feel head-on, the bone-deep trembling worry for the unspoken details that must comprise the current state of Steve, piled on top of the wholesale grief and the mourning of both what Eddie’d had, and what he’d been hoping he’d be allowed, be able to keep.

It’d be shitty to say that. So he won’t.

Say it.

“Eddie, I have never seen him like this.”

And it’s all Eddie can do not to whimper, or moan pathetically because the hurt in those words is visceral, and it’s not supposed to be there because Eddie was the problem, he was what was hurting Steve and he’s out of the equation. So what’s causing this much anxiousness, this much concern? How could something have gone to shit so quickly, in just the weeks they’ve been apart—what’s wrong with his Stevie?

(And maybe Steve isn’t his anymore but by god, Eddie is Steve’s, will be to the day he dies, he thinks—no, he knows; no matter where he goes or who he becomes, a part of his heart will belong to Steve for always, whether it’s wanted or not. So that’s his Steve. Where is heart lives. Where is love burns, even as a nuisance. He can’t stop it. He can’t put it out.

It’s with his Steve, and no other.)

“And like,” and Eddie pulls himself enough out of his wallowing, his fretting, the aching in his fucking veins to focus on Dustin as he eyes Eddie up blatantly, the squints a little:

“You don’t look like you’re doing the best, either.”

Okay. Rude.

“Gee, thanks,” Eddie tries to drawl annoyingly, fails miserably; aim to bat his eyes at an attempt at levity that he knows falls flat as hell.

He doesn’t know if he was even trying for it more for Dustin’s sake, or his own.

“Fuck off, man,” Dustin rolls his eyes; “I’m serious,” then he’s gets that grave tone about him again and Eddie hates that these kids have to even know how to be that serious about anything—least of all him, and his…whatever you call the ruins of your everything, when it comes to—

“You might not be hurting like Steve is,” Dustin tells him plain, doesn’t pull punches; “like you’re joyful in comparison,” and okay, ouch—

“But that’s not a healthy bar to clear.”

And Dustin’s eyes are a little narrowed around the call-out, the judgement on so many levels but they’re also…open somehow. Trying to be receptive, and welcoming.

Trying to be a good friend—for Steve and Eddie alike.

“Henderson,” Eddie shakes his head even before his voice strains; “he,” and all the fight goes out of him, drained dry better than the bats ever managed to leave him which is for the best, really, because what he says next, what he admits next is as good as slicing as artery, the way it flays him open to speak into the world:

“He doesn’t want me around.”

He doesn’t want you—

“Oh, right,” Dustin snarks at him with a glare; “definitely doesn’t wilt whenever you come up, doesn’t leave the room or anything,” then it’s Dustinwho wilts a little, somewhere between a pout and concern:

“When we actually get to see him at all.”

“That would be a prime example,” Eddie notes with a kind of…devastated intent, shoving the stabbing sense of worry at the core of him out of the way to make his point: “of what someone does when they don’t want a person around,” and Eddie is right, he’s absolutely right because that’s just natural, that’s a normal reaction and here is clear proof that—

“Not Steve.”

Dustin cuts Eddie’s mental conviction off at its knees with the sheer amount of feeling, of certainty in his tone, like he knows this one thing beyond all the doubt in the world.

It’s that certainty that sours worst in Eddie’s gut.

“If Steve doesn’t want something, he ignores it,” Dustin says, insistent and so fucking sad; “I think it goes back to his parents, like,” Dustin shrugs, and Eddie feels bile at the back of his throat.

“If you’re unwanted, you’re neglected, treated like you don’t exist,” and not for the first time, Eddie kinda-sorta regrets that the murder charges didn’t stick, because then he’d be tarred and feathered appropriately to just go ahead and off the fuckers that made Steve ever wonder if he was somehow anything less than the best person, the most deserving of everything.

“Because that hurts worse,” Dustin says, low, like he gets it. Like he hates it.

“Being invisible hurts the worst.”

Death would be too easy for those fucking assholes who taught Steve that, just because their own hearts were hateful. Eddie…Eddie wants to run to his Stevie and just, fucking, hold him. Make sure he remembers that it doesn’t matter if Eddie’s near or far, his or never close again: he’ll always matter to Eddie. He’ll never, ever be invisible.

“I,” Eddie licks his lips when the silence stretches too long, and Dustin doesn’t seem inclined to fill it this time. “He,” and Eddie’s mouth is too dry, throat still too tight; “we’ve been—”

“You’re together.”

Eddie freezes, heart doing a kind of hard brake thing that shakes him from the ribs on out, and Eddie may not have know where the hell he was going, how he was going to summarize then sanitize what it feels like to give all that you are and be found wanting in the end—but he hadn’t once considered fucking saying…that.

“What?” Eddie chokes, half-assed at best. It’s shock more than it’s denial, save that it should have been past tense, even if Eddie’s whole fucking soul is still with Steve, but he doesn’t think he knows or even fully wants to reel it back.

Ever.

But while they hadn’t hid anything more than in plain sight? They…no one was ever told they’d been dating, and, he, they—

“If even I can see it,” Dustin says, not unkindly exactly but…definitely blunt: “that kinda means it’s an open secret.”

Eddie coughs around the tight shock squeezing at his throat:

“Those aren’t your words,” he manages, because—they aren’t.

And Dustin looks briefly like he sucked on a lemon, knows he can’t fight the obvious.

“Max,” he sighs, admitting from where he’s borrowing uncharacteristic insight; “she told me I was the last to know.”

Any other day, about any other thing, Eddie would feel a much bigger sense of petty vindication in Dustin’s forced humbling.

As it stands? Eddie’s chest hurts too much to fit any kind of twisted delight of the kind getting any sort of foothold in him.

“Right,” he breathes out in an airy, useless kind of sound, doesn’t know where it’s going, doesn’t know what he’s doing.

He feels…actually?

Dying felt less tumultuous than what’s starting to churn through his veins right now, no fucking lie.

“You guys could have told us,” Dustin prods, a little sad, disappointed—hurt that he was left out.

“I,” Eddie’s mouth works around a lot of thoughts, a lot of half-formed feelings because what would it have been like to hold Steve where the people they loved could see, just because they could? To sit in his lap when he got tired, when the scars ached a little from doing too much for too long with the kids. To warm his hands just under the hem of a sweater. To just, just—

“Doesn’t matter now,” is what Eddie lands on, because it’s the honest conclusion of all his wishful wondering; bitter in his voice as much as it is in his chest. “It’s over.”

Fuck. Fuck, has he even said that out loud, yet? Can’t have—it hits too much like whiplash. Like the world ending.

“Doesn’t sound over,” Dustin volleys back like it’s simple; “is it over, for you?”

He asks it, like it’s enough to love with all that you are when it’s got nowhere to go anymore. Like he can strong-arm that kind of feeling through will alone. That one side can make a relationship on their own.

“It sure as hell doesn’t look like it’s over for him,” Dustin stares him down, now, something shifting in his demeanor that screams that he’s done playing games.

“What did you say?” Dustin asks him, something a little pleading in it, but Eddie’s throat won’t work, he can’t fucking speak and Dustin reads it as avoidance, instead of like Eddie’s heart is trying to rip out past his fucking trachea.

“What did he say?” but Dustin doesn’t sound even remotely convinced for his own self that this is on Steve. That it could be on Steve. And…again. Dustin hasn’t been shy about supporting one of them over the other when necessary.

“I,” and how is Eddie even supposed to breach explaining the chain of events that he can parse, leading to where things stand now? Sorry buddy, your ineffably physical and endlessly affectionate brother-slash-babysitter started refusing my kisses and sleeping on the edge of the bed so he barely touched me when he used to be a goddamn octopus to my sloth, grabbing and never letting go until he did, entirely, which is to say nothing of the sex, fuck, did you know your taxi driver is loud as shit in bed, but then all of a sudden if we even had sex he was suddenly silent and if there’s ever a blow to your ego, it’s to fuck your boyfriend and get nothing in response save sometimes tears he doesn’t acknowledge in the aftermath, that really makes a guy feel special.

Yeah, he’s not going to say that. He doesn’t even know how to get across how Steve pulled away, slow and all at once at the same time, overnight as much as it felt like it happened in pieces. But he stiffened when Eddie so much as brushed against him. He barely talked to Eddie. He was always taking extra shifts at work. He didn’t want to be around Eddie. He didn’t want Eddie, outgrew him in the course of weeks, maybe months if Eddie just hadn’t noticed in the beginning, but, it just…they were amazing, one minute. Perfect.

And then they…weren’t.

“He, I mean, it,” and Eddie grabs at his hair and hides behind it, because all of that’s true, all of what he saw and felt and lost in his relationship with Steve before it stopped: it’s accurate.

But then there’s…everything Dustin’s saying. And…Steve was pulling away from him, turning away from him, but did he…was he seeing Robin, or only at work? Was he seeing the rest of the Party?

“He was,” Eddie tries to find a throughway to follow but he’s too distracted because…was Steve sleeping before Eddie stopped coming to bed at all, because everything he tried wasn’t enough, because it was breaking him to keep lying there and not just be ignored, but be actively avoided? Was he…had Steve not been eating regularly, before Eddie left—

Wait.

Eddie…Eddie didn’t leave. He went to Wayne’s, the home that wasn’t the one Steve grew up in, when he needed to get more clothes. It was getting too cold, and since he’d basically moved in with Steve right out of the hospital and never really moved out, he’d been migrating what had survived the old trailer little by little as needed and so he’d…he’d gone to get things.

He’d broken down when his uncle asked him what was wrong, said he looked like someone ran over his cat.

More like his heart, but. Same idea.

And then he’d…he’d been scared. He’d called the house to try and ask Steve when he wanted Eddie to come back, because he’d wondered after telling Wayne everything—and hearing him talk about what it was like coming back from war for some of his buddies—if Steve just needed some space: but the line had rang and rang and rang. Didn’t even grab the machine.

And Eddie had…Eddie had cried so fucking hard he could have sworn he’d busted something in his eye. But…but…

never gonna leave you all alone again

He gasps to himself when the words run lightning quick through his head, and his heart clenches fucking hard.

Did…did Eddie, did he go and…and leave Steve…

Did he leave his Stevie alone?

No. No, it was, Eddie never wanted to keep his distance.

Eddie doesn’t stay awake to all hours staring the the ceiling while his body reels at what it knows it’s missing because he wants to. He doesn’t jolt awake lamenting that emptiness because he likes it, whenever his consciousness drifts in fitful bursts that he doesn’t feel like he deserves, because while he’d maybe been slinking back to lick his wounds when he went to Wayne’s, he would never have even thought to do this own his own, to be estranged.

Though all of those things aren’t without the parasitic leech of a thought on the side: he told you to leave with everything but words, and only that because he stopped taking at all.

But…but Eddie can’t live with Steve hurting. And maybe Steve doesn’t want him, doesn’t love him like that anymore. But Eddie thought of him as his friend, even if they never had a space between where they were just friends and not everything.

And it sounds like maybe Steve could use a friend. Maybe he doesn’t want Eddie for that either, but. Eddie’s kinda in agony at just the thought of the picture Dustin’s been painting.

“It’s Christmas,” Dustin takes that unspoken cue to pipe back up; “like, I just,” and he ends on a note of straight-up entreaty, damn close to pleading:

“Fix it, man.”

And Eddie…

Eddie doesn’t think he’s wanted, in general. Certainly not to be the one who fixes…anything.

But a nice chunk of his heart is with this man who is apparently hurting, and Eddie’s soul-certain love is fixed on him, probably for the rest of fucking time, so.

He’s sitting here being unwanted already.

Won’t hurt to try; can’t possibly end up worse.

❄️

>>> part iii

for @kultiras🖤

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divider credit here

[ohmybueckers]

Never Strangers: Chapter Four

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: binge drinking, that's basically it

Authors Note: happy game day! we're still in the "its so over" portion of paige and maya's story but dw we're making our way to the "we're so back" section. lesson of this chapter do not try to have a serious convo with your ex in a bar. also shoutout to anon who said they had a dream about chapter 4 being posted, here you go bby <3

“You said they weren’t coming!” I hissed to Adria. My eyes were focused on how Paige looked accepting a shot from one of the mens players, going eye to eye with KK before tilting her head back and letting the liquid rush down her throat. I knew I should look away - no, had to look away - but there was something about seeing Paige in the flesh after all these years that made it so I physically couldn’t. 

Adria appeared just as shocked, alternating between looking at me and the two players. “That’s what KK said!” 

The music echoing through the bar all became too much. The shots taken earlier in the night evolved from a warm buzz to an uncomfortable heat blazing through me, making me sweat in my jean shorts and black tank top. I needed a break, needed some time to think of a game plan. Surely there was time to sneak out of a back window or something. I just needed to be somewhere quieter, somewhere where I wouldn’t be seen. “Um, I’m just gonna go to the bathroo-“

Before I could finish my sentence, a loud voice broke through the crowd, “Adria!” 

Both Adria and I watched as my window of escape vanished before my eyes in just a few short moments: A girl with a bright smile, wearing a baggy white tee shirt with a silver chain, barreled through the sea of people and towards my friend, whose jaw had not left the floor. KK Arnold. And who else would be behind her than Paige, whose eyes met mine before I could avert them.

I had seen more recent photos of Paige, sure, but getting to see her in person - the way her hair texture had changed from the pin straight style she kept through high school to a more natural wave, the way her arms had grown in definition, and the way her eyes widened as she was taking me in at the same time - that was a completely different ball game. KK moved to embrace Adria, her hands lingering on the other girls waist in a way that was just noticeable enough that anyone who bothered to look would raise an eyebrow. “I’ve been texting you!”

“What happened to Teds?” Adria asked, leaning into the other girls touch. Through my panic, there was a brief moment of recognition of just how good the two of them looked together. If KK is half as great as Adria makes her out to be, they would make a good couple - as long as KK doesn’t fuck it up.

“Some emergency maintenance thing with the plumbing, they kicked us out.” KK grumbled, leaning one arm against the aforementioned table. As if she just noticed there was another person with the girl (wouldn’t be the first time tonight), she gestured over to me. “Is this your friend?”

Adria nodded, looking over to me as if she was seeking permission to acknowledge the elephant in the room. There was no use trying to be invisible now: in just a few moments, I had become very, very visible, and the pair of bright blue eyes staring at me in shock from my peripheral vision were proof of that. “KK, this is Maya. Maya, this is KK”

I smiled and gave a wave, which earned me a sudden side hug in return. “Hi, I’m KK,” the shorter basketball player gave me an intoxicated grin, giving no indication of knowing who I was. KK pulled away, turning to face the blonde who had kept a few steps of distance until this point. Whether this was to allow KK to have her moment with her girl or to avoid me, I didn’t know. I didn’t really care to know. “Adria, I’m not sure you’ve met Paige - Adria, Maya, this is my designated driver of the night.”

I forced myself to make eye contact once more, letting myself get washed away as Paige looked me up and down as if she was somehow still unconvinced I was there. It was only after I heard Adria introduce herself through the muffled haze that I remembered I was still around others. With a voice crack I am not proud of, I managed a, “Hey Paige.”

Paige bit her lip, nodding as if to bring herself back to the present as well. “Long time no see.”

KK, who had appeared unaware of any tension between us while her girl stood next to her a little too aware, shifted her grace between Paige and I. “You two know each other or something?”

Paige let out a loud cough, her eyes like saucers, leaving me to answer the loaded question. “Yeah, um, old friend from high school.”

KK’s reaction to this information was akin to a kid at Disneyworld. “Oh shit, so you got to see Hopkins Paige in action then?” 

“Sure did!” I force a smile, feigning joy so well I almost believed it myself. Inside, images of nights nearly losing my voice as I stood out of place in the Hopkins section of the audience and post-game meals with the Bueckers family came back to me like a plague.

“Well, looks like I need to catch up with you guys. Your drink is almost empty!” KK shouted, turning back towards Adria and gesturing to the glass in her hand which had been reduced to a watery brown substance, the Captain and Coke long finished. KK grabbed her hand. “Come with me, I’ll buy you another.”

With a speed and energy that was truly impressive (athlete stamina, I guess), KK managed to whisk Adria towards the bar, leaving Paige and I alone as Adria shot one last apologetic glance my direction. And then there were two.

--------

How do you introduce yourself to someone who once knew everything about you? I don’t think. either of us knew the answer to that question, but Paige made an attempt. 

“Hey,” she said, her voice almost cautious, unlike the interview clips I had seen where she had been unapologetically confident.

I can’t say I’m much more confident when I squeak out, “Hi.”

She makes a stab at breaking the ice first, asking the obvious question. “Had enough of Minnesota, huh?” 

I felt myself rock on my toes, the stickiness of the bar floor not making my typical anxious tick easy. “Just… looking for a change, I guess.”

“Yeah, I get that.” She nods, looking around the bar of UConn fans before smiling. “Made a good choice at least.”

I pause at that, opening my mouth before giving it much thought. “Not sure I’ve been making too many of those lately.” I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to tell Paige the truth, something I had hardly accepted myself after years of it being my identity. Being in front of Paige for the first time in three year must have reminded me of the times where telling Paige everything felt like a given, back when there were no secrets between us. I guess old habits die hard. “I quit mock trial.”

Paige’s eyes widened, her lashes blinking as if that was the last thing she was expecting me to say (in which case I am concerned which “bad decisions” she deemed more likely for me to make). “What? When?”

“Last spring, when I was still at Minnesota.” I looked down, unable to handle her gaze on me much longer after dropping this on her. I had dealt with enough disappointed looks and people scolding me like a child for this choice in the past few months - I don’t know if I could handle it from her right now. “I loved it in high school, and then I got to college and it just didn’t really hit for me anymore. I think I was just scared to leave for a while because it was so comfortable. But now I’m… just figuring it out. Opening myself up to everything.” 

She nodded, eyes trained on me like she was really trying to understand what I was saying. Finally she shrugs; not in a dismissive way, but almost as a method of reassurance. “Well, as long as you’re doing what you think is best, I don’t think that’s the worst decision you could make.”

I found some relief in those words. I think it may have been the first time I had heard them since I sent my resignation in. Paige was always good at that in high school, reassuring me that I didn’t need to have it all figured out and that the world wouldn’t implode if I didn’t have my life planned out through my thirties. Surely if she were feeling this way about basketball, I knew she wouldn’t take her own advice, but it didn’t make the sentiment matter less. Even if I didn’t know it, I think I may have needed just one person to tell me I wasn’t about to fuck my life up. Even if it was coming from someone I never thought I would speak to again.

In the back of our conversation, some Nicki Minaj remix faded out. In some absurd twist of fate that can only be explained by my absurd luck this past week, a couple of chords caused a visible reaction in both of us, my back straightening and head cocking as if I hadn’t heard it correctly. Fortunately (or perhaps unfortunately) I had: the opening chords to Exchange began playing over the speakers.

 I tried my best to play it cool, staring at my sneakers so as to not blow my cover immediately, until I peered up and saw that Paige was thinking the exact same thing, an amused grin plastered on her face. “Is this-“

I couldn’t help myself - I started cackling, because if I didn’t laugh I was pretty sure I would find the nearest hole in Storrs and bury myself in it. My laugh was followed by Paige’s, ours harmonizing in a way that was all too familiar and caused an unnecessary tug at my heart in a way I preferred not to think about.

Rolling my eyes, I exclaim, “Exchange in the bar is crazy.”

We look at each other, clearly both thinking about that night in the Culvers parking lot, how the Fanta float tasted on her tongue. Maybe it was the flashing lights, but I could have sworn I saw a spark in her eyes, which grew in intensity the longer she looked. Maybe there was one in my eyes too.

Before we could let the moment linger, a familiar voice calls out. “P Boogers, Maya! We got a shotski, come on!”

------

KK and Adria stood at the bar, Adria laughing as KK pretends to stretch her arms in order to prepare for the shot in front of them - a wooden ski painted white, with four blue shot glasses on it. How fitting for a UConn sports bar. 

Paige and I join them, assuming our positions as the bartender aids in lifting the ski. Out of all the things that have felt foreign to me at UConn, this does not feel unusual - it reminds me of tailgates with my friends as we prepared to cheer on the Gophers. 

You would think having experience with shotskis I would know the mechanics better, particularly mechanics involving height. But it is only as we tilt the board back and I recognize that I am standing next to two tall athletes that I have made a grave mistake, one that I am unable to correct before the glasses meet the other girls lips and I am met with a shower of strong liquid splashing down on me, my eyes shutting just fast enough to avoid any true catastrophe. 

“Oh shit,” I hear them notice what has happened as I bend over, attempting not to gag as I realize KK has purchased rail vodka, which smells not unlike Everclear. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” I manage to say, though I know I am fooling nobody. Opening my eyes, I see the guilt on the three of their faces as KK attempts to flag down the bartender who is currently helping a group of six girls all on different tabs. “I’m gonna just run to the bathroom and clean up a bit.”

I only make it a few steps before I sense the blonde jog up beside me, her face concerned. “Can I help?” I am beyond embarrassed, all too aware of the people surrounding us who noticed the incident, some of whom elbowing their friends upon spotting Paige. I don’t really have it in me to argue when Paige identifies a single stall restroom, pushing us inside. 

It’s wild to me how just one locked door can feel so much more secluded and safe, even though from the disheveled appearance I can tell this bathroom has likely seen unimaginable horrors. Paige gets to work quick, wetting a paper towel on the sink and turning to assess the damage.

“I’m pretty sure there’s vodka in my hair.” I laugh, head leaning back before somewhat suddenly hitting the cool tile wall behind me, which only prompted more giggling. Paige gave a hum of concern, fingers tracing the back of my head to ensure I didn’t hit it too hard, though I saw her swallow back a laugh of her own. She trails her fingertips down, examining my styled wavy hair to see if my suspicions were true. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the fact that Paige was doing this right now, touching my hair so tenderly with her body so close I was surrounded by the musk of her cologne.

“How much did that bartender pour? Goddamn,” Paige clearly was not given as pleasant of a smell, visibly wincing as she was faced with the smell of rail liquor.

Paige removed her fingers from my hair, unable to find any excessive liquid in my tresses. Her eyes traced a couple of inches down before stopping. Noticing how the grip on her damp paper towel only tightened, my eyes trailed down my own body before realizing what caught her attention - a huge splash of liquid on the point where my top met my breasts, the cheap vodka giving my cleavage a sheen under the hum of the cheap bathroom light. Paige’s lower lip was caught in her teeth, biting down before clearing her throat which seemed to break the spell on both of us. 

With haste, I grab a paper towel of my own, dabbing at my skin and attempting to make it look as decent as possible. This could not happen again. I know what she did the first time, I remind myself. “You didn’t need to help me, I’m not going to die from a little liquor on my skin,” I crack a joke, escorting the both of us out of the bathroom and back into the crowded bar. “Thank you for doing it though.”

Paige looks at me with an unreadable expression, almost appearing as if she wants to say something before setting on,“You know it’s really good to see you, right?” 

I can’t help the flush that reaches my face, though perhaps later I would blame it all on the alcohol. The truth was that seeing Paige tonight was far less scary than I was envisioning. Some parts of it - the reassurance, the laughs, her touch - it felt like old times. Maybe that was the scariest part. At least it was the scariest part until her face fell serious, taking a cautious step forward before beginning, “Been wanting to talk to you for a while. Actually talk to you.”

I felt my heart rate accelerate, feeling out of breath even though I was simply standing there. Licking my lips, I manage an, “I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to do this here.” I dismissed, feeling pressure accumulate at the base of my throat at a speed that was starting to scare me. When Paige and I were alone, all outside noise muffled, the bar felt more manageable. Now, as the other girl had unknowingly cornered me as we were surrounded by sweaty bodies, I felt trapped. “I promised Adria I’d be here tonight, and she is…”

“Gone, probably left with KK.” I look around, realizing her assessment is right. Reaching for my phone, I find her message. “KK wanted to leave and talk. So sorry. Good luck.”  

So much for my lifeline. “It was years ago, we don’t need to…”

Paige cuts me off, an old habit that until now she had refrained from falling back into. “Need to what? Maya, I’ve waited years because it’s what you wanted. And I respect that, I do. I just have shit I needa say. Give me two minutes, please.”

Paige sounded downright desperate, her eyes wide and pleading. I would be lying if I said I never pictured this happening, and what I would do or say if I ever got the chance to see her again. I can’t say I ever pictured it happening at a crowded bar, covered in vodka. Then again, I never pictured going to UConn in the first place. Sighing, I gestured her to follow me, moving us to an area with slightly less people. Not that it was necessarily secluded at all, but drunk me couldn’t find it in me to care. “Say what you need to say,” I say, feigning confidence despite my arms remaining crossed.

“I was a dick in high school, okay. I do not blame you at all for acting how you did after… everything.” She didn’t need to say it for both of us to know. “I miss you, though. I never stopped missing my best friend. Nobody could ever take your place. I need you to know that I’m not the same person I was back then.”

I’m not sure if it was the two last sentences she said, or if it was the alcohol hitting me like a fucking mallet, but it was as though any listening I had been willing to offer to Paige had evaporated in just a few seconds. “Really? Because last time I heard, you had no issue forgetting everything happened the second you got here.”

One of Paige’s eyebrow raised as she stepped forward, reaching an arm out in an attempt to touch mine. “Maya, what are you talking about?”

I jerked away. While Paige’s touch felt warm and welcome earlier, it certainly did not feel that way now. “I hear you got pretty popular with the girls of UConn, didn’t you?”

Paige’s mouth shut and her eyes closed, as if she realized she had been caught in some form of a lie. Nearby, I hear a beer bottle shatter on the floor, and I am made aware of just how much I do not want to cry in here, surrounded by a bunch of drunk students who clearly know the person causing my tears. “Please let me explain. We weren’t together, you know I wouldn’t have done anything if we were.”

Of course that’s what she leads with, I thought with an eye roll. “I don’t care, Paige.” I stress. “You can hook up with whoever you want. I care that you can’t even be honest with me, and you’re telling me that you magically changed the second you got to Storrs. Because from what I’ve heard, I don’t know if you have.”

“Who’s telling you this, Maya?” She asks, as if I would ever tell her. I trusted Adria and Brooke. More importantly, I trusted my own intuition that screamed at me that there were other girls after me, especially after seeing a few girls give flirty glances her way. Something about the knowledge that I was likely just practice for all her girls at UConn made me want to run back into the single stall and expel all I had consumed throughout the night.

“Doesn’t matter. All I know is that you led me on and made me believe you wanted more when you just wanted to fuck around…”

“I didn’t…” She tries to cut me off again, but I won’t let her. Not this time.

“Let me finish. You ruined our friendship. You ruined us, Paige. And now you’re here, and I just know you’re off hurting other girls in the way you hurt me.”

I noted how the circle of girls next to me looked over, some of their glances sympathetic upon seeing my emotional state while others were downright dirty for disturbing the peace of their night. Though I didn’t feel as though I was in any place to walk, I quickly decided staying in this bar with Paige was far more dangerous. “I don’t think I can have this conversation right now. Hope you get home safe.”

Paige attempted to speak again, but I was already making my way to the door, un-phased by the pouring rain which I had failed to prepare for. I had no plan on how I was getting home, no clue when busses were running and no desire to walk thirty minutes in the dark while it was storming. All I knew is I needed to get out. 

I couldn’t handle hearing her escape accountability, telling me what I wanted to hear instead of what I needed to hear. The sad part is that I almost believed her.

My mom always warned me how rose colored glasses changes the past and makes you believe things were better than they were. She didn’t need to tell me she was referring to dad when she said it - I could tell from the look in her eyes and the tone in her voice. Maybe the same could be said for Paige. Maybe all those memories of ours weren’t actually as real as I thought they were, and that the shameful nights I spent crying in my room all through senior year of high school (and let’s be real, a good bit of freshman year of college) were for nothing. 

Maybe I never actually knew Paige Bueckers at all.

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

taglist: @paiges-1vur @unadulteratedcyclepaper @pboogerswbb

[rhiannonsknife]

Would you ever write dom Jackie? I feel like she would have two moods: mean dom and soft dom

nsfw content. mdni. soft & mean dom jackie taylor. fem!reader. should i start beta-reading? probably. am i going to do that? i doubt it.

jackie would definitely…evolve over the course of your relationship. she’s only ever ‘been’ with jeff before and even though they never actually got to having sex, the little experience obviously influenced the way she thought things were supposed to be done.

she’d be rather shy at first, i think, assuming it’s her ‘job’ to take, rather than give. it’s not like she doesn’t enjoy it, don’t get me wrong!! jackie loves it when you first touch her, when she -for once- doesn’t have to fake it like she’s used to but instead has a mind-blowing orgasm during your first time with her. so, yes, jackie does like it when you touch her. she likes the feeling of your body on top of hers and the way you’ll grind against her until she’s seeing stars.

and, still, she feels like there’s just something missing. or rather something she’s missing out on.

jackie doesn’t figure out what that certain something is until, one night, where she’s propped upon your thigh, grinding against you in ways she hadn’t done before. she’s still fully dressed too, while you’re almost completely naked beneath her. exposed, jackie can’t help but think as she rocks back and forth, at her mercy. pathetic, she thinks, too, then instantly feels embarrassed for the way that thought makes her throb.

to push the thoughts away for good, she leans down and kisses your mouth. with every stroke of her tongue, though, jackie feels another surge of that strange sense of possessiveness. blame it on the way she’s been socialized all her life, but she didn’t even think it would be possible for her to feel this kind of want until she finds herself rocking against you harder, kissing you deeper, feeling a constant pulse of mine, mine, mine that shoots straight between her thighs. she’s certain she’s soaking through her jeans.

you obviously notice the change in your girlfriend’s demeanor, but -god- you’re not going to complain with the way she’s riding you, head thrown back in pleasure, moans spilling from her parted lips freely.

when you reach out to touch, jackie bats your hands off of her without thinking. “no” she hisses, not even bothering to look at you. “don’t you dare.”

the facade falls just seconds later when she realizes what she’s said. anxiously, she glares down at you. she’s blushing furiously, trying to apologize and stumbling over her words. “i didn’t mean to” and “i don’t know what i was thinking, we can stop”

it takes a lot of reassurance but, finally, you’ve convinced her that it’s okay, that you liked it. after that night, which ends with jackie cumming multiple times as she pins your hands down onto the mattress (using you) and tells you to ‘shut up and take it’, she slowly becomes more confident in her sexuality and the way she wants to express it around you!!

i think she starts out as the soft, tame type of dom which only becomes meaner over time. but, while it does take a while for her to give in to her wants, oh boy, is it worth the wait…

mean!dom jackie who loves to make you strip out of all of your clothes for her without ever taking off a single item herself. who makes you get on your knees naked and shoves her fingers in your mouth, then chuckles softly as you gag on them. who forces you to look back up at her when you break the eye contact and grabs your cheeks so harshly that they’re all smudged between her index and thumb. who loves the way it makes her feel to tower above you and see you so willingly down beneath her.

mean!dom jackie who loves to hold you in place. whether it’s by actually tying you up somehow or by simply holding you in place. she gets so turned on from having you however she wants to. she’ll either eat you out for hours, to a point where you’re so overstimulated you’re trembling. you’re trying to close your legs but jackie won’t have that. instead, she is forcing them apart again harshly, lapping up your wetness with a broad tongue against your raw pussy. or she’ll use you for her own pleasure instead, completely ignoring the aching between your thighs. she’ll ride your face, or finger fuck herself right above you but just a little too far out of reach. and she will do that until you’re at a point where you’re babbling nonsense, sticking your tongue out and craning your neck for just a taste of her that she’s depriving you of.

mean!dom jackie who discovers strap-on sex….maybe she’s on a trip to a bigger city and actually dares to go into one of the sex shops there. not knowing any of the people and not having the risk of getting caught definitely makes it easier. she would probably be so shy to bring it up to you the first time :( that is until she’s got you on all fours for the first time…

mean!dom jackie who never got the hype of blow-jobs until she’s on the receiving end. saying she didn’t get the hype is an understatement, actually. with jeff, she hated everything about it: it was uncomfortable, he was too demanding, too messy about it. everything just seemed wrong. but that was before she got you between her legs, preparing her length for your cunt with your mouth; licking along the shaft and taking the tip in, sucking it gently. she can’t even feel it and she’s losing it already, fighting against the urge to just grab your hair and fuck your face right then and there. or maybe she does. her painted nails scrape your scalp as she grabs a fistful of your hair and forces the toy down your throat until you’re gagging around it <3

mean!dom jackie who loves to edge you!!! she knows exactly what to do to get you worked up and painfully close to the edge, only to pull away last minute. she’ll laugh when she sees you struggling and makes fun of the way you desperately grind your hips against nothing to chase the friction of her fingers. (guys…mean!dom jackie who spanks your cunt and makes you count the slaps then giggles each time you gush around her fingers…)

mean!dom jackie who, at the same time, likes to overstimulate you too. when you don’t stop rocking your hips up, she’ll suddenly force her fingers back into you. she doesn’t let up after the first orgasm, fucks you through two in a row, and shakes her head when you start shaking from the overstimulation. “oh but you wanted this, didn’t you?” she pouts. “you wanted this. now take it”

guys i feel like this has become an exclusive jackie taylor/rhiannon lewis stan blog…(i mean, hey, nothing wrong with that! but just in case anyone was wondering: i do write for the other yellowjackets as well! 😭)

[roseykat]

TITLE: How they are when they cum

SYNOPSIS: OT8 version of...the title x

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate/monitor every single potential interaction with these posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

TAGS: mentions/descriptions of orgasms, blowjobs, sex positions. Nothing too major.

A/N: Take this as a filler while I wrap up my post for Shutterfly Butterfly. I actually really enjoyed creating these blurbs and will do more in the future.

BANG CHAN

Groans and grunts. He’s pretty vocal in bed and on the very strong occasion where he cums as hard as he always does, he’ll announce it, and it’s the hottest thing ever. There’s nothing sexier than a man expressing how much pleasure they’re in through such an erotic thing. Usually his moans and incoherent words sound so panicked before he combusts inside of you, like he’s dying to cum but doesn’t want to yet so as to savour your warm, wet, heat wrapping around his cock. 

-

MINHO

Is gripping onto you when he cums. Whether it’s by digging his nails into the skin and flesh of your hips or ass, grabbing a fistful of your hair, groping your tits - he needs something to help him channel such a surge of pleasure when he orgasms. His moans are very breathy and very consistent. He won’t always announce that he’ll cum but you can tell when he does. If it’s not the warm load inside of you, it’ll be the silence he exudes that will give it away. For some reason, that’s how you can identify how hard he’s actually cumming. 

-

CHANGBIN

Will not shut up, and you don’t want him to either. Every ounce of pleasure he gets from fucking you, sends him into another realm. But when he cums? A whole other level. The pleasure is out of his depth that it rattles throughout every cell in his body. His eyes will flutter, mouth slightly ajar for your name to spill out. When he cums, he also has the tendency to bury his face into your neck, depending on the position. Not because he’s ashamed, but because he just doesn’t know how to deal with the overwhelming waves of euphoria. 

-

HYUNJIN

He will moan your name repeatedly and it’ll be in the most beautiful airy voice known to this earth. Sometimes he can be quiet but not intentionally. He’s just trying his best not to cum so quickly and feels that hearing his own moans mixed with yours will get him there faster when he actually wants to drag out how good he feels for as long as he can. He’ll mutter quietly to you against your lips that he’s ‘gonna cum’ and when he does, his forehead might rest on yours or he’s kissing you as he’s cumming, and he’s all flustered and rushed. 

-

HAN

Whiny. Whiny as fuck and whimpers. He tries to stifle his moans with the back of his hand or maybe he’ll be biting down on your shoulder or something. But when you have both of his hands cuffed or pinned by the sides of his head when you ride him, he is the loudest, whiniest person in existence. You’ve even thought about gagging him, especially before he cums at least. He’s so prone to being overstimulated a lot and has most definitely cried before when you’ve made him orgasm. 

-

FELIX

Will most likely say to you “gonna make me cum,” every time the two of you have sex or you’re giving him head, right before he orgasms. He wants you to know that you’re the one unraveling his sanity for a good thirty seconds. Felix is vocal, loud, and almost borderline whiny. Despite having such a deep voice, his whimpers can be the complete opposite. It’s just a sign that he’s struggling to deal with so much pleasure that his body can possibly handle. 

-

SEUNGMIN

Sometimes he might hold his breath when he cums because he is just in so much of a state of pleasure, his body doesn’t know how to react. Therefore, you might not always get sounds out of him - which is good because that’s how you know he’s cumming hard. If you’re perhaps giving him a blowjob, his head will tip back, voice lodged in his throat until he’s spilling white wherever you’ll let him. But in the few seconds after he cums, Seungmin is either swearing or moaning as well; most of the time, both.

-

JEONGIN

Similar to most; moans a lot to a T. He can get sort of embarrassed by it even though you reassure him that it’s okay to express how good you feel in the moment, especially after you told him how much you like it. From there he’s become a bit more relaxed and now he won’t hold back. They’re sort of high pitched, but low and strained in some cases when he’s absolutely railing you. Will also breathe out “baby” over and over again as he approaches the edge of his orgasm.

[superstarcherrycolagirl]

ENZO! ❤️

eeeeek hi anon! finally sat my ass down and did some writing LOL

also i made this a little hcs thing cause i had so many ideas and I couldn’t choose what to write abt

ALSO my first language is english and i do speak a little handful of spanish but i did use a translator for some things cause spanish class in high school failed me BOOOO so i did write this from english perspective + and sry in advance if stuff doesn’t make sense but i hope you enjoy:)

⭐️⭐️⭐️

✿ okay first and foremost he’s SUCH a gentleman

✿ i think when initially meeting one another for the first time y’all are both so nervous + giddy

✿ and i just feel like that overall shyness and flustered feeling plays into your relationship as it grows

✿ physical touch guy TO! A! T!

✿ enzo has a very gentle demeanor already so it blends into all of his mannerisms he has when he’s with you

✿ gentle touches especially when holding hands (if you don’t know what that is LOOK IT UP PLS) moving little bits of hair away from your eyes/face

✿ having his hand on the small of your back, resting on your thigh or on holding back of your neck RAHH

✿ OR LIKE his hand running under your sweater/jacket to hold your waist or hip

✿ even when it’s the middle of the night he’ll somehow drape an arm around you waist or tangle your legs together cause he just needs to feel close to you

✿ so many kisses man… like get ready to lose the idgaf war

✿ on the lips, cheeks, nose. forehead, ears, jawline, neck, shoulders, hands, fingers etc.

✿ vise versa, i think he would find the idea of your fav lipstick lingering on his own lips of face very endearing:(

✿ subtle outfit coordination would be a staple

✿ soooo sweet nothing coded

✿ his little names for you would be so cute wahh

✿ “amor” “mi amor” ”dulzura” “mi chica” “angelita” “chiquita” “linda” “cariña” the list goes on

✿ total bookworm

✿ photography would be so fun for the both of you

✿ cooking together and trying new recipes

✿ little english + spanish lessons

✿ eye contact is also a huge part of how you communicate.. like if you don’t feel so good, or uncomfortable or scared it will instantly click in his head just by looking at your eyes

✿ enzo is so protective of you:( always being attentive of your body language or emotions, and WILL step in to keep you safe in the blink of an eye

✿ more unspoken endearments too! could be doing anything from reading to laughing at something on your phone or LITERALLY nothing at all and sweet enzo would simply just look at you with nothing but adoration for you:(

✿ don’t think he’s the kind of person to get jealous easily but when he does OH it’s game over for whoever is getting a little too flirty with you i fear

✿ coffee runs!

✿ whether you’re dressed for a fancy date night or just rolled out of bed i guarantee his breath catches in his throat when he sees your sweet face cause wdym this beautiful little angel in front of him he gets to call the love of his life?!?

✿ man is just DOWN BAD for you he can’t help it!

✿ he’d start to carry around little accessories of yours — it could be hair ties on his wrist, little hair clips pinned on the neck of his shirt or jacket or the ribbon that fell out of your hair that’s tied around his belt loop

✿ SPEAKING OF BELT LOOPS, you know he definitely pulls you into him by your belt loops and it’s just so hot

✿ listen… if you’re feeling emotional and have even the slightest glassy eyed look or frown on your face…. just expect enzo to get emotional too cause he loves you so much and he can’t handle seeing you so sad:(((

hope you liked this and pls don’t be shy to send me more ideas!

[james-spooky]

Eddie Diaz and the Phenomenon of Queer Representation

A post to organise my thoughts ahead of the rest of the season and to really get this off my chest! (Spoilers for 9-1-1) (It’s long and I will inevitably have more thoughts about things I failed to mention)

Within queer representation in media, there’s a certain expectation that audiences have been conditioned to accept, including the omission of any representation at all. This has led to many non-canon ships being popularised in fandoms in an attempt to obtain agency surrounding queer media. One of these such head canons is Eddie Diaz from 9-1-1 who is largely speculated to be gay. This is sort of an essay and sort of me rambling on.

Picking up in Season 8, Episode 1, Eddie’s been trying for three months so keep his shit together and try to stay in contact with his son in the wake of the whole emotionally-cheating-with-the-doppelgänger-of-your-deceased-wife situation. I think the birthday zoom was really the beginning of his breakdown. To keep all of this inside him it way too much for someone to handle. He is going to break at some point with the stress. Not only that but as others have pointed out, Helena and Ramon are not actively participating in the reconnection of their son and their grandchild. This ties into their long-term goal which has been present across multiple seasons to be Christopher’s sole caregivers, without any acknowledgment of Eddie. To me it looks like he’s been trying to put on a brave face for his kid and sort of suppress everything (as he always does) to try and be a better father. But you can’t be that person if you’re not taking care of yourself; not necessarily “putting yourself first”, not in a selfish way but genuinely having self-love and a certain assuredness, something which Eddie doesn’t appear to have pinned down. I can definitely see him being introspective this season and forced to deal with quite literally everything that’s ever happened to him and to actually process that and who he really is. Ergo, realising his sexuality.

Tim said that the episode six thing was one of his favourite moments in the show, is actively excited for us to see it, is the episode where the “reason for the moustache” is “explicitly stated”; genuinely what else could this be other than gay Eddie. I cannot think of a reason personally. Other than “religion” which I don’t is a path they’d go down; I cannot come up with another reason for why they’re being so vague about it.

This is exactly the same thought process I went through pre-s7. I wrote down all my thoughts and analysis on those articles and Buck’s arc, coming to the conclusion that there could be no other outcome other than Buck being bisexual. Before s7 there were lots of articles about Buck and they all had that same sort of strange wording surrounding his storylines that season. E.G: “a season of self-discovery for Buck”, describing him getting off that “hamster wheel” of failed relationships. Whether or not you believe that he has achieved that is beside the point; the point is that, the vague quality to them which alluded his storyline going in a particular direction is happening yet again. Ryan has the exact same thing happening now, if not more with the majority of the season’s promo being his moustache. This is pattern recognition if I’ve ever seen it. Truly, due to the sheer amount of promo and interviews there have been, in my mind I don’t see another reason for why this would be, other than Eddie having a large and pivotal storyline this season.

It’s not just “about buddie”. When people pin down a character’s sexuality to purely the ship they’re in, it annoys me because it’s genuinely about the storyline and Eddies character arc. Yes, these headcanons have stemmed from the ship and obviously if they were to go down this route, the ship would most likely be a by-product of this discovery, but it’s not the priority. It may be an end goal, but what about the journey? It’s more than ship wars or trying to one up each other. For me personally, it would be so beneficial to his character to go in this direction. Not even just for his character but for the show and representation in general. What other show on a major network would have a character who’s been on the show for multiple seasons, had relationships with women, a wife, a child, religious traumas, PTSD, grief, catholic guilt and then having a gay awakening in their eighth season? None. How many have had strong platonic male relationships? A lot. Honestly, I don’t interact with those people who whittle down Eddie having a queer realisation or the possibility of Buddie being canon as “erasing platonic male friendships”. I simply don’t buy into that and my reaction towards those people who use that argument is just “Point me towards a show where (the written above happens)” and you can’t. Because it hasn’t happened. Not only that but queer ships in mainstream shows are notorious for “queer-baiting” and not “going canon”. I could name numerous shows where this has happened all to the dismay of a large percentage of the audience. In my experience in fandoms with popular queer ships, (majority mainstream shows with non-explicitly queer characters) I cannot think of a single time where they have been confirmed in canon. To me, this would be a huge step in the right direction for queer media as a whole. Of course, we cannot deny the massive impact that Buck being canonically bisexual last season has had and I commend ABC, the writers and Tim for bringing that to our screens. It was so heartfelt and truly amazing to watch. However, in terms of fandom and popular ships, it’s a little different. I’m in no way disregarding bi Buck, but rather exploring the impact that having a popular queer ship becoming canon would have on other media and the audience in general.

As queer audiences, we are so often let down with the directions that tv shows and film take in regard to their queer-coded characters. It’s become normalised to expect disappointment over seeing a popular pairing actually become “canon” within the text itself.

I’m aware that queer-baiting is definitely different than simply having queer-coded characters, however the two often come hand in hand. There is a misconception, in my opinion that “going woke is going broke”. I think that yes, having queer elements or characters in media definitely effect the reception and reaction, especially online from the general audience. This has happened time and time again and because the negative reaction is so loud, it drowns out any of the positive ones, forcing media companies to pull back in fear of losing money or audience. They want to be seen as “impartial” as a large percentage of audiences are bigoted but by removing any conversation surrounding queer representation in media, it immediately becomes biased and panders towards the people who shout the loudest. Queer people know all too well that on social media, it can be hard to avoid the rampant bigoted views that are shared so violently towards marginalised communities. Companies are so fearful of the backlash towards queer characters, that they won’t even have them at all, regardless of whether it would be classified as “good” or “positive” representation.

In my experience with fandoms with popular queer ships, when the show is still airing there’s this sense of hope that we cling to that it might “turn out different this time” and the character or characters might actually end up canonically queer or together. And every time, it ends the same. And even if they are confirmed queer, the “bury your gays” trope swoops in before it can truly be explored. As a collective, we tend to self-deprecate in order to deal with it but it’s actually quite a damaging thing. It reinforces the idea that queer characters and storylines are not of merit or valued in mainstream media. This turns into a vicious cycle of queer-coded characters staying queer-coded and never becoming canon as that’s how far the media company producing the show is willing to go. They are not willing to take it a step further and explicitly show queer characters having agency and a place in media as this will result in backlash. Additionally, even when we are given queer characters, a lot of the time there is a lack of depth or exploration of their queerness, almost as if it doesn’t exist. For example, Loki’s genderfluidity and bisexuality is canon and confirmed but a large amount of people who were invested in this, were disappointed to see it not having any effect on his storylines at all due to Marvel as a distribution company whose audience, or rather, targeted audience is largely cisgender, straight men. Therefore, queer audiences typically already have an expectation going into a show with a queer ship; it will most likely never happen. I’ve seen first-hand people who actively don’t partake in these shows in order to avoid being disappointed and it hurts me to think that queer people have obtained this way of thinking in regard to media. That we know it’s not going to happen so we either avoid it or watch it with the miniscule hope that something will happen. And even if it does, the show will most likely get cancelled after the first season in the name of “watch hours”, (despite how dedicated or prevalent the fandom may be, dead boy detectives, IANOWT, first kill etc.) once again solidifying the belief that queer characters or stories are not worth the time, money or value that heterosexual ones are. This causes queer media to have a lack of funding and marketing, essentially dooming them to crash and burn. It’s like building a house made of paper and then blaming the weather on its destruction.

So no, I don’t believe that “going woke is going broke” as I have personally indulged in many shows and films due to the sheer prospect that there might be a queer character or couple. Too many times, I’ve binged several seasons of a show (in an alarmingly short amount of time I may add) purely because there is a popular ship/one of the characters might be queer – emphasis on might. It is due to the fear of these media companies that queer shows and film are immediately disadvantaged straight out the gate. However, I do see there has been a change. Obviously, there are many popular queer shows that have been given chances such as Heartstopper and Interview With The Vampire. To me, this clearly shows that queer storylines and characters, showing diversity and marginalised communities does bring audiences and value (as we ourselves know) and it’s purely the skewed bigotry which overtakes the reception and influences the production of media.

Additionally, when bi Buck went canon, the sheer disbelief of queer audiences that it happened at all, to me showed the standards that we’re used to. We’re so used to not having that, that when it does happen, we’re actively surprised by it. Obviously, 9-1-1 in particular has showcased many queer characters before and continues to do so, however this was different as Buck was a previously established character for six seasons and so to have a sexuality arc for someone later in life was definitely a huge moment for bisexual representation in television.

For Eddie, if Tim is doing this storyline, he is right in the approach he’s taken. I’ve talked before about how they weren’t sure whether it was going to be Buck or Eddie having this queer storyline in Season 7… To me that’s basically confirmation of queer Eddie, right? Well, not necessarily “confirmation” but the fact that he was even considered at all for this storyline solidifies his queer-coding to me and that we aren’t all “delusional” for recognising it. I’ve said before but it makes so much sense for Buck to essentially “go first” by having him realise he’s bi and come out in S7 because it was a very different way of doing it, as you would have with Eddie. Buck is very sure of himself as a person and for him it’s something that was always there, but he never realised it and he’s quick to accept it! There’s no tortured Buck struggling with his sexuality (unless of course you count the basketball scene) it’s relatively smooth in the sense that he’s not having a breakdown over it; it’s just his relationship that’s rocky and provides those hurdles. This was refreshing to see as it can often be an expectation that the queer character in the show is negatively affected by their queerness. However, with Eddie, it wouldn’t make sense for him to have that arc in season 7 itself. Partly because it had 10 episodes which would not do it enough justice, and because Eddie already had a lot to unpack. For instance, his whole season 7 storyline was surrounding his deceased wife which was just the start of his journey. Even many seasons later, he is still grappling with the effects of his grief on him and Christopher. Everything is much deeply rooted in him, as is everything in his backstory.

His whole begins episode and all of the backstory we see of him, is him trying to be someone he’s not/who he thinks he should be. He was trying to be a big brother turned parent for his sisters when his parents wouldn’t. He’s trying to be a good father at nineteen, he’s trying to conform to the hegemonic standard of masculinity by marrying Shannon (pressured by the church as she got pregnant young) he enlists because he’s trying to provide for his family even though he doesn’t realise that it’s actually hurting them instead, he’s trying to keep custody of Chris from his parents who only see Chris as a “do-over” for Eddie. Eddie trying his best and get a job to provide for his son. Him doing anything his can for Chris. Shannon coming back, dating her again for Chris - despite the fact that Shannon wanted a divorce (and then died). Eddie dating Chris’ teacher who he loves but Eddie doesn’t. Again, for Chris. He’s always doing things for other people. His parents, Chris, his partners, but never for himself. We’ve seen him spiral before into his fighting arc; that was something he did for himself in a sense, but it was only because he didn’t know how to properly regulate all the pain and grief he was feeling! He’s a single father trying so hard to be the very best he can for everyone around him, to live up to “what it means to be a man” pushing down any emotionally vulnerability until he inevitably snaps. The church, his catholic guilt! This affects him in numerous ways - religious wiring quite literally effects the ways you think about everything and internalise the things that happen to you. Kim was something he did for himself, but it still tied to everything else and his grief. Because of all this, no wonder you wouldn’t be able to fit his gay awakening into a 10-episode season… Eddie requires more time and thought behind what he’s going to have to face and process by himself. For the first time, he is truly alone with his thoughts and is faced with who he is. Outside of his parents, outside of Chris, Shannon, the army, the church, the 118, he is discovering who he truly is, not what anyone else or any institution expects him to be. And this is why, it’s gonna take a lot out of him and is a much different storyline to the one that Buck went through.

Everyone’s sexuality realisation/coming out is different and I really can’t imagine Eddie going through the arc that Buck went through so I think it was a good decision to go with Buck for Season 7. Eddie has so much more to deconstruct and process in order to accept or even just realise his attraction to men, however that plays into his relationship with Buck. And even more so, his lack of attraction to women.

Honourable mention of “I’m broken. I’m broken and I can’t fix it,” being said in his conversation with Kim which is a heavily queer coded statement, as this is a concept that is frequent in the queer community of thinking you’re broken due to your identity. I’d genuinely be surprised if this is not the direction they’re going as there’s so many moments like this with Eddie across the seasons (cough dating feeling like a performance cough) especially this one, which just stand out and heavily resonate with queer audiences. I’d say if they don’t, it’s a huge missed opportunity and character assassination to be honest. I care so deeply about Eddie and he’s such a complex character, it annoyingly makes me mad when people undermine him or pin him down to one thing as if multiple things can’t be true at the same time. I know he’s a fictional character and in reality, it’s not that deep but when people undermine his queer-coding or deny it, it feels like denying a whole group of people’s experiences akin to his.

So, the “emotional reason” behind the moustache in my mind, would definitely link to the idea that Eddie has clung possibly extra hard to his perceived idea of what masculinity is to him/what it’s expected to be. Yes, the style of moustache is engrained in queer culture, but I think that it’s more so an accessory which he’s using to overcompensate for his queerness, (consciously or not). I’m relating this to one of my favourite queer films, Maurice, as in that movie facial hair, specifically moustaches play a significant role in displaying the characters attitudes towards their queerness without explicitly saying them. Maurice and Clive both go through phases of having a moustache, with Maurice first when he is in a period of reluctance towards his sexuality. He’s the more accepting of the two, so it doesn’t last long. However, as Maurice moves out of this phase and begs Clive to stay with him and be together, Clive transitions into that position and denies Maurice’s claims that they could be happy somewhere together. He clings to the traditional ideals of marriage and heterosexuality, as is the norm in 1910’s England, trying to bring an end to the whole affair. Later, when Clive announces he’s engaged to be wed to a woman, he has a moustache and continues to have this moustache for the rest of the film, showing how he’s never going to accept himself for who he is, and is using this to conceal his emotions. The moustache here, represents hiding your true self and repressing your desires, acting as a “mask”. This to me, is very reminiscent of how Eddie appears with his moustache, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up with the same metaphorical reasoning.

In the first episode (the only episode that’s currently out), we saw that Gerrard approves of his moustache, himself being the typical masculine archetype that Eddie may believe himself to be or believes that he should be. Not that Eddie wants to be like Gerrard; of course not, he’s a bigot. It’s that portrayal of masculinity which ties into how he was brought up, and the ideals of the catholic church surrounding gender roles and sexuality. I thought this direct comparison was interesting between them as Eddie is definitely doing this for approval if not from others, but from himself that “this is who he is” when in reality it’s not. In my interpretation, the fact that they’ve specifically mentioned episode six as when he shaves off the moustache and has this physical manifestation of his inner demons, screams to me a queer arc for Eddie. I think there is so much potential for his character and storyline, not just for the ship he’s involved in but for himself and everyone who sees themselves in Eddie.

In conclusion, I really hope they go down this route and if they don’t, once again, it will be a huge, missed opportunity and I wouldn’t be certain where they’d go with his character if not there. This was just a chance for me to get my thoughts out, ahead of the upcoming episodes and I really hope we get to see a positive outcome for his character, whatever route they take.

[memory-and-sky]

hobie x male reader """""""""dating"""""""" hcs?

okay this is something i can work on and get done relatively quickly. THANK YOU FOR THIS ANON! to everyone who’s sent in asks for fics, they are being worked on, i swear🙏 hope you like this though!

word count: i dunno, it’s a good chunk of headcanons

containing: explicit mention of homophobia, brief description of injury via fighting, small small small sexual reference, hobie brown x m!reader, could be cis or trans but i wrote this with cis males in mind

the rest of the headcanons are under the cut!

“dating” headcanons

hobie brown x male!reader

since Hobie lives in the 70s in Britain, gay rights weren’t really…. y’know, the best.

for your safety and his, the most he’d do in public is holding your hand. and even that was a big sign of rebellion. holding hands with a person of the same sex? how scandalous!

anyway, while holding your hand, he’d love to put both your hands in his pocket, especially if you run cold (like me :P).

he’d totally be the type to rub his thumb slowly on your palm, too.

Hobie knows a lot of people, especially in the queer and punk scenes. he gets invited to a lot of house parties, and feels safer to put your relationship on display more then, but he’s definitely not over the top with it.

a simple arm over the shoulder, around your waist, or a hand in the back pocket of your jeans, though he doesn’t need PDA to show your relationship off.

“Have ya seen this new patch on the ol’ battle jacket? Or this pin? Yeah, my lovely boyfriend made ‘em fo’ me. Gorgeous, innit?” [speaking to a random friend]

“Have ya had the pleasure of meetin’ my boyfriend yet?”

“I thought you said you hated labels…?”

“Mmh, (y/n)’s influential like tha’. Clearly ya haven’t met ‘em.” He’d say, undoubtedly with a smirk plastered on his face.

i really don’t think Hobie would get particularly jealous over you.

of course he loves you with all his little gay heart, but he doesn’t feel insecure or get upset at you or anything if you talk (or flirt) with another guy (as long as you communicate). if anyone is flirting with you and you seem really disinterested, he’ll totally intervene.

maybe hold you in a way that makes it clear you’re together, or explicitly tell the dude that you’re not interested.

but he doesn’t like treating you like an object he ‘owns’ at all, it’s why he’s pretty hesitant to slap the ‘boyfriend’ label down on your relationship right away.

and the 70s were a sexual revolution! revolting against gender norms and relationship norms, stuff like that.

if anybody ever dared ask you two ‘so who’s the man and the woman in the relationship?’ or ‘who’s the top and who’s the bottom?’ Hobie would be dreadfully disgusted and educate them immediately.

speaking of sexual revolution and whatnot, Hobie would be down for polyamory if you were.

you two have a very good line of communication, and if you wanted to open your relationship and communicated that to him, he’d be fine with it.

you’re so great, he gets how other guys might fall in love with you, too.

Hobie would give the best gifts, try and change my mind. whether it’s for your anniversary, birthday, or just a random gift, they’re always handmade.

maybe he’ll make you a piece of clothing like a shirt, hand-pick a bouquet for you, or even customizing/fixing one of your old clothing pieces with a bit of added Hobie flair.

Even small things, like a charm, pin, or patch have so much love put into them because he loves you!

touching on my first point again, homophobia was very present outside of the queer/punk scene, even in some aspects of the punk community he didn’t feel welcome at all.

usually, he’d tell people where to shove their opinion, but sometimes he’d feel completely unsafe to be himself around anyone.

yeah, he’s spider-man, but he’s also a very young adult. he could fight people, and he definitely used to, but he hated coming home to you being worried sick about all the horrible bruises, cuts, and scrapes on him.

back to the lighthearted stuff, he’s definitely the type of guy to cook for you.

doesn’t matter what meal it is, he’s gonna make it for you if he has the chance to. and he actually makes good food, despite living in Britain his whole life.

if you’ve got issues with trying new foods, his place will always be stocked full with your safe foods no matter what.

you’ll eat together, and he’ll gaze dreamily at you, wondering how he ever got so lucky to land such a stellar guy like you.

this man loves coming home after a long day, popping in a VCR for a movie of some sort (TV could be in your bedroom or living room, doesn’t matter), and just cuddling with you.

he doesn’t mind being either the big spoon or little spoon, but tends to like being big spoon cause he likes holding you close to him so much.

he’s very scrawny, but doesn’t mean he won’t love you all the same, and hold you tight.

one more thing, Hobie loves you above all else. he’ll protect you and fight for you anytime you need. when it comes to his partners, he does not play around!!

[damagedintellect]

Fyodor x reader x Nikolai [Rich kids AU]

💌 Days of our Bungo : Part 3 💌  

Summary: All of your fathers made a pack that whenever they had kids they would marry each other. It sounded like a good idea at the time but when the Sigma family was the only family to have a girl, and everyone wanted a bloodborne heir, things seemed a little complicated. After many arguments it was decided they would wait to see which boy, she, would fall for. Everyone always ends up having a crush on their childhood friend right?

Notes: Guess who had another Bungo dream, it was me! This time around the dream sequence started in the middle and just kept going so ima just fill in the gaps and start from the top.

Tropes: Sigma is your twin, Fyodor x reader x Nikolai, Fyodor is endgame, royalty/rich kids, Childhood friends, Mutual pinning but reader thinks it's one-sided, Nikolai knows its unrequited but he still loves you & Fyodor, eventual 🍋

💌 Word count: 5,327 💌 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 Completed

“So let me get this straight, our parents were trying to arrange your marriage for years and they just happened to pick Fyodor?”

Nikolai asked bluntly, wearing an expression you couldn’t decipher. You had asked him to meet you by the fountain to see if he knew anything about the situation. He didn’t. He was actually shocked at the notion. Given how many times he's expressed his envy towards birds for their freedom you can imagine he probably has some mixed opinions on the endeavor. At least they weren't forcing Nikolai to marry anyone. Sigma was relieved about that. He was still frazzled and reassured you everything was fine after his talk with your father but you assume he's not telling you everything because you have your own problems to deal with.

You sighed. “From what I’ve gathered, that’s the gist. Apparently my father knew I had a crush on him.” You wondered if Kolya knew. Even if he didn’t, after Valentine's Day, he definitely did now.

Nikolai hummed rubbing his chin “Then what’s the problem? Isn’t this just hitting the jackpot?”

You stood up abruptly “How can you say that? What about Fedya?”

Nikolai smirked “What about Fedya? This is about you. Do you, or do you not want to marry Fyodor?” Nikolai stood up towering over you. A chill ran down your spine, you always forget how much taller Koyla is when you're not on pointe. You feel so tiny in comparison. It was a hard question, one that the latter didn’t even think twice about.

“I don’t want to marry him like this. You know that.” You couldn’t look into Nikolai's eyes anymore. You felt ashamed. It wasn’t like you were forcing him to marry you, that was your parents doing, but you still felt like you were taking advantage of the situation. He put his hands on your shoulders. “If you can’t marry Fyodor then how about you marry me instead!” Nikolai’s soft smile made you blink.

“What?” You were awestruck at the offer. Your head was empty, all you heard was the water pitter pattering behind you.

“You said you couldn’t break the engagement and Fyodor won’t help you do so either. I was a potential candidate for your hand, so marry me! I find it really quite simple.” He placed a hand on your cheek while the other grabbed your hand to pull you closer. “Eventually you’ll have to talk to Fedya whether you like it or not. You don’t want to marry him because you don’t know how he feels about you and it would feel wrong to force him into something he doesn’t want, even though you and I both know he would do whatever it takes to appease you or his father.” He tilted your head up. Forcing your eyes to meet. As he took a breath his features softened giving you a dreamy look. “I’m telling you point blank that I love you and I would give up my freedom to marry you in a heartbeat because that's how much I love you.” His voice dropped lower, a tone that held none of his usual playfulness. None of his typical Nikolai craving attention antics, it was said so that only you could hear him. Like he was telling you a secret. Nikolai has always been charming but it's never once flustered you before. The sincerity of his voice alone made you second guess yourself.

“Kolya” You whispered as he slowly started leaning in to close the distance. 

Just before your lips touched he snaked his hand around the back of your head and shoved your face into his chest. “I know, but please just let that sink in. Nothing has to be weird, I just-” He took in a deep breath “I will always be here for you but you should really consider talking to Fyodor.” He kissed the top of your head letting his lips linger for a moment before letting you go and abruptly turning around. It was fast enough that his braid ended up whacking you softly in the face as he walked away.

“Even Fedya can misinterpret things on occasion. It's better to be upfront with him.”

It would have been so easy to love Kolya but your heart didn’t ache the same way. You wanted to be alone for a little while but you didn’t want to worry your family. You took a walk in the garden watching the sunset. As darkness cascaded over the flowers you sigh as the brisk night air chilled your skin. It was probably time for dinner but you didn’t want to head inside just yet. A little further out was the gazebo where you first played as kids. Taking off your shoes you rubbed your socks on the hardwood to check how slippery it was. The groundskeeper was really good at maintaining the area. The floor felt perfect to dance on.

Just like that by the light of the moon illuminating your stage you danced. The world stopped existing for you. None of it mattered as long as you had the strength to hold each arabesque or the stamina to float on each grand jete. Anything to feel the ache in your muscles that made you feel alive, that made you live in this moment. It wasn’t until you opened your eyes to spot your pirouettes that you realized someone was watching you and it wasn’t Nikolai. You were panting after deciding a triple was enough. You can't run away from this.

“You're truly breathtaking. I was so enamored I did not want to interrupt.” 

Fyodor entered the gazebo. He walked over handing you a flower presumably from your garden. You twirled it between your fingers. Of course it was your favorite. “Why are you here?”

“Your father called in hopes that we were together. No one saw you come home. I had a feeling I knew where you would be so I told him not to worry.” In truth he already knew where you were because this is where you always go when you have a lot on your mind but even if he didn't, the locket he gave you had a tracking device just in case anything happened like that time before. Fyodor had it made after the kidnapping incident but never actually gave it to you because of Nikolai. After the study abroad it just seemed like the right time since he had it crafted to match the rings he wanted for your engagement.

“May I?” He took the flower back gesturing to your hair. 

You nodded. As expected if anyone would be able to find you it would be Fyodor. He curled your hair and put the flower behind your left ear. “You really are exquisite.”

You couldn’t stop the fluttering of your heart. Naturally he’d try to keep up the appearances even when he didn’t need to. Only Fyodor could be so meticulous. 

“It’s just us Fedya you don’t have to, you know.” Glancing down at your feet you didn’t have the words to express what you meant but you know he understood. He was annoyingly good at that.

Fyodor laughed lightheartedly, “Am I not allowed to indulge my fiance with compliments?”

“I-” You sucked in a shaky breath. “Did you know?” You peered back at him. Fyodor had to know what you were referring to. 

“I did.”

“You knew,” You could feel your eyes starting to tear up. “How long?”

Fedya delicately caressed your cheek. His eyes glistened in the moonlight. He was hopeful that you were going to be relieved by his words, given your reactions earlier. He still didn't know why you were so weary about it. “Since the day we first met.”

It was as you feared. He has known from the start. You didn’t know what to say. Maybe you were too scared to say anything. Fyodor didn’t seem to mind. He probably could guess what had been stewing in your head. You let Fyodor wrap you in his arms as he kissed the top of your head. He was warm and you felt safe but he was only following orders. He didn’t choose to marry you but if he’s known since the beginning then this was okay right? You felt the weight of guilt drop to your stomach again. 

“The moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

You tilted your head to the side. Did you hear him correctly? You pulled away to try and see the moon. It was too cloudy to see from your angle but maybe Fedya could see it. “It’s too cloudy for me. I’m short, remember?”

“No I meant-” He stopped mid sentence “Nevermind, lets go inside before you catch a cold.”

___

After that you pretended that things had gone back to normal. It was easier that way. The voices were still resting in the back of your mind but they were easy enough to ignore. It was such a weird predicament you were caught up in. Nikolai loves you but you knew he didn’t want to take over the family business but he was willing to give up that freedom because he loved you. Fyodor has known since the beginning and if he had a problem with it at anypoint, could have done something to rectify his situation. Although in your heart of hearts you know he would never disobey his father. You can and will be able to do as you please so all you had to do really was make him fall in love with you. At least then it would make you less guilty.

It shouldn’t be that hard right? You had months to do so. Piece of cake considering you made Nikolai fall in love with you. The only other person he’s ever shown any interest in was Fyodor. You started off simply by playing the doting fiance by making homemade lunches to give to him. However you forgot that he could read you like a book. Every attempt you made to show him you were perfect wife material he could tell you were forcing yourself to do for his sake. It was almost driving you crazy. You knew it was pointless from the beginning but you had to try. Expressing your love was hard.

So the acts of service fiance didn’t work. You already spent a lot of quality time together and physical affection was so so but there were still other options to make him fall in love with you. If he didn’t want you romantically or even domestically, maybe you could try sexually? It was a long shot but hey you never know until you try. He was a teenage boy. They go crazy for a little bit of skin right? 

Technically you had a school uniform but you rolled up your skirt a few inches and unbuttoned the top few buttons on your shirt. Purple had always been his favorite color so you made sure to wear a vibrant neon purple bra that showed through your white shirt. A push up bra no less. Unfortunately Fedya took one look at you and forced you to wear his uniform blazer and covered your chest area with his scarf. He even went as far to wrap his extra cardigan around your waist so your skirt wouldn’t ride up in the back. Again you knew it was a long shot but damn did it hurt your pride. He only muttered “Are you trying to get dress coded?”

You were running out of ways to make him fall in love with you. Romantically and sexually were off the table so maybe intellectually? This really was your last ditch effort. You weren’t bad at academics, you just weren’t a gifted genius like Fyodor. To impress Fyodor you decided that if you beat him, Dazai or Ranpo at chess that should be enough. However you realized after your first match with Ranpo that it might actually be impossible. You were trying not to let it show on your face that you were downtrodden while you were playing against Dazai. Unfortunately it was so obvious that he let you win. You sighed as Dazai shook your hand making a big spectacle of losing. Fyodor had to swat Dazai away because he was being disrespectful to his fiance. Again another failed attempt. You were running out of time and fast. Before you knew it you were graduating.

In the blink of an eye you were out of time. You didn’t even bother trying to mask your melancholy as you got ready for the day. You had to wake up early and you didn’t even remember half of the things on the itinerary but you remember it was a lot. The maids were so excited as they were running around preparing for your departure. There was so much to do and you had such little knowledge of how Russian weddings proceeded. The paying the ransom, the betrothal, the crowning, a civil ceremony, a tour of the city, and finally the only thing you were familiar with was the reception. It all made your head spin but you followed along to the best of your abilities.

You wished you could have heard what Fyodor paid in the ransom. He refused to tell you as you were both ushered to the next location for the ceremony. You were anxious you didn’t want to do anything wrong. In fact you were so anxious you were running on autopilot until you had to break the crystal glasses. Fyodor held your hand to help you balance as you tried your best to stomp on the glasses with him. He was smiling at you so softly like you were his world but he aggressively tried to smash the cups into as many pieces as possible. You asked him about it in the car as you toured around the city.

“The ideology is that the number of shards signify the number of years our marriage will last.”

You didn’t even know what to say to that. It was such an endearing sentiment. Any words you had were caught in your throat. Fyodor didn’t mind the silence, your awestruck expression was enough for him. You were exhausted by the time you made it to the reception. 

The first toast was made to you and Fyodor. After finishing your drink his family started a chant that had everyone shouting at you. He chuckled at you before whispering “It means we kiss now.” Crashing his lips on yours he takes your face in his hands. That familiar warmth from your first kiss comes back full force. You’re dizzy as Fyodor's tongue explores your mouth. Everyone is cheering him on while you're melting in his touch. You can’t believe he’s doing this in front of your family. You're a mess by the time he pulls away. You have no idea what the hell just happened and by the time you came back to your senses Fyodor pulled you to the dance floor.

“My apologies darling, was I too rough?” He twirled you around and held you close. 

“I-I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“It would have taken too long to explain but the kiss is supposed to counter the bitterness of the wine. It needed to be sweet with passion.” He smiled fondly at you. His face practically had a smile plastered on it all day. You wonder if your classmates found it unnerving given his typical apathy towards them. He's always sort of regarded you with such fondness and you could fall in love with the brightness in his eyes.

You blushed but continued dancing, only humming in response. This whole day was giving you whiplash. Again maybe Fyodor should have been the actor of your group. You were the one who was supposed to make him fall in love with you and right now it felt like the other way around. Once your dance was done he ushered you right in front of your favorite dance partner and offered you to Nikolai. Which you raised an eyebrow at. 

“You look best when you're dancing. Who am I to stop you from enjoying the night with your friends? It is your wedding too.”

Nikolai pulled you both in for a hug quickly placing a kiss on Fyodor's cheek, snickering “Well I don’t need to be told twice.” He pulled away, bowing to you as he offered his hand. “May I?” You grabbed his hand as he led you back to the floor.

Nikolai smirked looking back and forth from you to Fyodor. “You two never talked about it, did you.” It wasn’t a question, he could tell.

“Is it really that obvious?” You hate being an open book. Shaking your head you continued. “On second thought don’t answer that. I have a feeling I know the answer.”

“Well then let me ask you a question.” He leaned down to dip you. “Are you happy?” 

You looked over at your husband who raised his glass to you. He looked relaxed and that smile of his left a heat to your cheeks. On one hand you were. Even if everything today was just for show, at least he made the effort for you. Like he always has. You think you’ve finally hit acceptance that Fyodor does care for you and that’s all that matters. 

“I think so.”

Nikolai took another bow as the song ended “If you ever need anything, you know I’ll come running.”

As you turned back around, Chuuya offered his hand. “May I-” Dazai pushed him over and out of the way as you reached out he took your hand and swiftly led you to dance. You could hear Nikolai cackling as the redhead grumbled.

“Hello to you too, Dazai.” You said flatly “I didn’t even know you were coming? I don’t remember Fedya sending you an invitation.”

“Easy, he didn’t! I’m Sigma’s plus one.”

You raised your eyebrows at him “Really? How’d you manage that?”

 “I’ll spare you the details! What I actually wanted to tell you was!”

Fyodor watched the two dance flummoxed as to why Dazai leaned into his wife’s ear. Dazai was wearing a shit eating grin staring him down while (Y/N) seemed very taken aback. Fyodor slammed his drink on the table as he paced over to grab his shoulder. “Dazai.”

“Ah why if it isn’t Fyodor. Again congratulations! Eh? Where are we going?”

You saw Fyodor drag Dazai away as you started dancing with Chuuya. Once they were away from the dance floor Fyodor started interrogating Dazai. “What were you saying to (Y/N)!”

“Aw don’t be like that Fyodor! We were just giving (Y/N) her wedding present. Since you insist on being stubborn we’re playing our own game. Honestly if you’d just tell her yourself it would make things go way smoother but-” Fyodor’s eyes widened perplexed as he looked back at his wife. 

“I did tell you I have my eyes on the sigma family.” Dazai grins as he watches Fyodor storm off to collect his wife. Sigma crossed his arms. “Must you keep saying it like that you’re going to give him the wrong idea.”

“He can think what he wants. Although I’m surprised you didn’t tell your sister anything.” Dazai shrugged as Sigma pinched the bridge of his nose. “I doubt she would believe me if I did. Even Nikolai couldn’t convince her.”

Out of nowhere Nikolai appeared behind them. “In all fairness I was being selfish but they really are made for each other, huh.”

___

Chuuya sighed as Dazai was dragged away. “It’s about time you two got married, everyone's been sick of seeing the two of you dance around the subject. Dazai in particular has been trying to make it everyone’s problem.”

You were confused “Chuuya what are you talking about and what Dazai said I don’t-”

Chuuya cut you off “As a wedding gift we planned on telling you since that anemic bastard doesn’t have the balls to say it out loud, but-” Chuuya stopped as Fyodor put a hand on his shoulder. “I’d like to spend some time with my wife. If you don’t mind.” The touch to the shoulder contained all the malice that his words lacked.

You looked back at Chuuya as your husband whisked you away. You thought he was going to go back to your seats but he kept on walking out to the car. He refused to let go of your hand as the vehicle drove away. It wasn’t headed towards your manor but it also wasn’t headed towards the Dostoevsky’s estate either. It was slightly unnerving that Fyodor wasn’t talking. You had so many questions and not enough answers. Dazai told you that he gave Fyodor your chocolates during Valentine’s day but he didn’t get to tell you how he reacted to receiving them before Fyodor dragged him away. Chuuya also didn’t get to finish his sentiment, it just left you more confused. It also begged the question why they bothered meddling in the first place.

You had been so lost in thought that you didn’t notice driving up to a new manor. One that you had never seen before. Fedya got out of the car and held out his hand. You thought he was going to help you out of the car but he scooped you up in his arms and walked into the estate. “Fedya, I can walk just fine! Where are we going?” Being this close to him caused your face to heat up. He had such a determined look on his face. It never occurred to you what would happen after the wedding. You were trying to take things one day at a time. Realistically you know what should happen next but you're unsure if that interests Fyodor at all.

“What did Dazai say to you?” His tone was dark and it honestly scared you a little. You’ve never been on the receiving end of this attitude. Sure sometimes he would be annoyed or irritated, you’ve witnessed him get snappy with people but it was never directed at you. 

You stammered out trying to collect your thoughts. “I don’t understand wh-” He placed you down a little carelessly causing you to flop backwards on the bed. Honestly you were surprised he could carry you. Physical strength has never been his expertise. When you were younger he used to get winded very easily.

He loomed over you with a hard look on his face. His jaw was tense and his eyes had you frozen in place. The Fyodor you know would never hurt you but you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this distressed before. The position you were in under Fyodor brought back flashbacks from your first kiss. It makes you hot with shame because this is definitely not the time for that thought.

“You’ve been acting strangely ever since the engagement. What has Dazai been instigating! If someone else is coming between us I-” He huffed with slight bewilderment, had he truly made such a dire miscalculation? You were his, Fyodor has been certain of that for years. Your heart belongs to him. He didn’t understand why the game had suddenly changed when he was finally so close to achieving his goals. 

“Tell me, do you not love me anymore?”

Anymore? You felt a pang in your chest. Of course he knew about your feelings, everyone else did. Wait, was that why he married you? Fyodor has always put his comfort aside for your sake. Is that what Nikolai was trying to tell you? Before it even registered to your brain the words fell out of your mouth “No, it’s always been you.” Frustrated with yourself your brows knit together as you turned away from him. “I don't think I could ever love someone else.” You didn't mean to divulge that last bit of information but you feel slightly less guilty about the situation somehow. Maybe confirming that he knew was enough validation? Your face was flushed and you could hear your heart working overtime. Although it's not fair for you to be cornered like this. You hated it but you couldn't bring yourself to push him away. You didn't want to see his expression but you felt his weight shift as his hair tickled your neck.

His hot breath warmed your ear as his tone dripped sweetly like molten honey. “Then why have you been acting so reluctant to be my wife?” the smugness was radiating from his being as he lazily smirked at you. He loved that he could finally call you that. His wife. Fyodor doesn’t think he'll stop saying it anytime soon. It stirs too much pride and euphoria in his being that he finds his own heart buzzing in his chest.

“Because you didn't choose to marry me!” You whipped your attention back to his handsome albeit slightly confused face.

Fyodor was taken aback, flabbergasted even. “I beg your pardon?” 

Didn't choose to marry you? Did you really not notice his affection towards you? He thought it was abundantly clear from the beginning. 

He's been enamored with you from the start. When you went missing he was the first person to drop everything to go find you. He should have been paying closer attention back then but he was complacent knowing your fondness towards him. He was the anonymous tip that got rid of your understudy for good. Fyodor purposely gave you his first kiss which should have made his sentiments towards you increasingly obvious given his extreme avoidance towards physical contact. As much as he did that for you, he selfishly wanted to indulge in your innocence together. During your year apart he wrote you letters religiously but thinking back, it would have been easy for Nikolai to tamper with those. He frowns to himself that there was that possibility but he supposed it's not important now. Fyodor told you that the moon was beautiful! Which is the most poetic way of saying I love you in the Japanese language. How could you have missed that? Your last literature exam was literally about Natsume Soseki and his works. He was increasingly frustrated with the fact that you dismissed it so easily. Much to his dismay your Japanese language scores were higher than his but he'd never openly disclose that. Nikolai has always ridiculed him for it.

“You heard me,” propping yourself on your elbows, you snapped him out of his racing thoughts. “Our parents decided that. They've been pulling the strings since we were kids. You said so yourself. My father took advantage of the fact that I harbored romantic feelings towards you!”

“And you think I don’t return the sentiment?” He cradled your face in his hand. “When have I ever sowed such disbelief in my love for you.”

“Then why didn't you propose to me yourself!” Your face was hot with embarrassment. Fyodor's thumb brushed away your frustrated tears.

With a loving smile he denoted “When I asked your father for your hand in marriage I may or may not have had some unforeseen complications.” Fyodor looked away abashedly remembering how unprepared he was for your father’s ecstatic reaction to his wedding plans. “One thing led to another and well, your father and I got carried away in our discussions and I may have accidentally promised that he would have the honors of relaying the proposal announcement.” he rubbed his face, not one of his best moments but there was a lot at stake so it was easier to comply. At the time he was certain it wouldn't change the trajectory of the engagement overall so he brushed it off. “Likewise the article about our family's merger was one of the other tasks he had me fulfill before giving his approval. Similarly that “business conference” I was forced to attend was merely a front so as not to raise suspicion. What I was actually doing was buying this estate.” He had been manipulating everything behind the scenes to be so perfect that he might have forgotten you would not see it the same way.

“All of that and you couldn't just say I love you.” You were perturbed. Fyodor was out here playing 4D chess yet he couldn't ease your mind by saying three simple words? Wholeheartedly you were astonished this never came up sooner. 

“I supposed I could have stated the obvious, yes.” The strain on his face didn't go unnoticed. He was dancing around the subject and while you had a revelation over it he still didn't admit to it outright. “Would you like me to prove it to you?” If the words were to ever leave his lips he's sure the elated rush would cause him to faint. He feels too intensely about the unfolding of his affection. Instead he captures your lips with such a passionate effervescence that you nearly forgot what you were asking for.

“I want to hear you say it.” 

It was breathy leaving your mouth. A plea to confirm that this was truly what Fyodor wanted and not just some trick. He paused for a moment intaking a shaky breath. You felt Fyodor's weight shift as he dipped his lips to your ear and whispered.

“I love you more than life itself and tonight you will be forever mine.”

Your breath hitched as Fyodor's hands explored your body. You wrapped your arms around him as he pulled you impossibly closer. It was mind numbing how much your body reacted to him. A simple touch to the shoulder burned hotter than a blue flame as he somehow found the time to undress you in the position you were in. Your head was so focused on the indulgent kisses that you didn’t even notice Fyodor being stripped away of his layers by your hands. Soon both of you were laid bare as you assessed your beating hearts. Lust dripped from his expression as his fingers caressed your inner thighs.

You moaned as he kissed down your jaw, slipping fingers into your wetness. The pleasure swirling your core causes your walls to pulse around his digits as he continues to pepper kisses down your torso. Worshiping every inch of your body with a near systematic discipline as he unraveled your patience. You were a mess of barely coherent thoughts by the time he got a taste of you. Such an overwhelming rush had you gasping and convulsing on his hand as he gazed up at your disheveled state. 

You watched with half lidded eyes as he lapped up your sweet nectar placing himself just above your entrance no doubt waiting for your approval as he stroked himself with what remained on his hand. 

Coming down from you high you managed to pant. “Please Fedya, I need all of you.” The absence of his fingers only stirred your arousal more.

“Anything for you, my love.” He leaned down to kiss you once more before his member vanished inside of you. Fyodor shuddered and groaned at the sensation as your toes curled with the new depth he could achieve. You watched as his carefully crafted composure shatter with each thrust. Only you could elicit such expressions from Fyodor. Sweet nothings tumbled out of your mouth as choked moans and lustful requests. Your breath hitched as his hips jolted forward and that familiar build of pleasure snapped again making you see stars. He collapsed on top of you catching his breath. In the afterglow he placed a kiss to the crook of your neck bringing you back from your hazy stupor. The words had been bubbling in your throat but only desperate pleas  had escaped your mouth until now. Fyodor had known of your love from the beginning but you've never expressed it out loud.

“I love you.”

You could feel him smile into your skin as he retaliated. “I love you most.”

___

Tagslist: @skullyz1 , @tttttttf , @ayameshu

[dumpster-diving-rat]

How I think bsd characters (DOA) would hug you, if you asked for a hug

(This is not all of the members, just the ones I'm writing for)

Fyodor Dostoevsky

-Literally glaring at you, trying to see your actual intentions

-Silent for like three minutes at the same time

-"Fine. Get over here." reluctantly letting you hug him

-Either isn't even touching you while you hug him, or has his arms around your waist

-If the reason why you wanted a hug was because you were upset, he probably would not care that much, or care too much depending on who you are to him

-Awkwardly patting your back and telling you you're fine, and what's upsetting you isn't that bad

-Still analyzing you to see your intentions, whether they're bad or not

-He's definitely very cold, anemia at its finest work

-He will tell you to stop hugging him probably after two minutes, if he even let's you hug him for that long

-Will wipe your tears away, but will also tell you that crying is a sign of weakness, and he doesn't want you to be that weak

Nikolai Gogol

-Literally tackles you to the floor with a hug

-His hands are on the lower part of your waist, and he is engulfing you in a hug

-If you're upset, prepare for way more jokes then normal

-You will probably forget about what happened if it wasn't too bad

-He will start to cuddle you, even if you didn't ask

-He did use his portal to give you a rose, but don't take it because it is poisoned

-Kisses your face randomly, and does it multiple times

-If you don't tell him to stop, he literally will go on forever, and will probably start to do it everywhere you go too, you might want to stop him

-He is lying on top of you, but thankfully(?) isn't crushing you in the process

-Did I mention you were pinned to the floor while he hugs and cuddles you? Because you are not able to move, and he honestly won't let you for another hour or so

Sigma

-Probably doesn't know what that is, he only came to realization he existed like three years ago

-You'd have to hug him to show him what a hug is

-Does hug you back, but is very confused, and doesn't understand your intentions

-If you're upset, he does try to calm you down, which is pretty successful, because he's just really good at calming others down

-Wipes your tears, and hugs you again after you let go

-Probably doesn't understand physical touch or physical affection, but he has found a new thing he likes doing, which is hugging you

After not posting for several days (and having 6 or so random drafts that I don't know what to do with) I have finally found something to make and post. I hope the characters aren't OOC, and I hope you like this ♡

[songbirdsanctuary]

Amphibia Memory Loss AU Thing. Part 1.

I haven't checked but I'm going to assume Memory Loss AU is taken, it's a basic name so it'll be renamed later.

I posting this in parts.

She stirred, just barely, a soft groan slipping from her lips. Every part of her body felt heavy, pinned by some invisible weight. She didn’t move, not yet—her limbs felt like they were filled with sand, her mind fogged and floating somewhere far from her body.

“I think it’s awake!” a voice chirped—shrill, high-pitched, and far too loud for her ears in their current state. The sound jabbed into her skull like a needle.

A hush followed, tense and sudden.

“Don’t go too close, Sprig,” came a second voice—older, steadier, wary.

“It’ll be okay!” piped up another, a younger voice full of indignation and certainty.

“What if it wakes up hostile?” the older voice pressed, firm but cautious.

“Yeah, what if it eats you,” the high-pitched one muttered, their tone more factual than fearful, as though they'd already made peace with the idea.

“She won’t eat me!” the boy shot back defensively. “She was trying to help us fight that mantis!”

At the word mantis, her body twitched involuntarily. The movement drew another beat of silence. Then slowly, hesitantly, she peeled her eyes open. Brightness bled into her vision, smearing everything in blurred colors and strange shapes.

A large orange blur hovered on one side, a smaller purplish one not far behind it, and a lively pink shape bounced into the center of her sightline. She blinked, and the world sharpened slightly—just enough to make out features. The pink shape had… big eyes. Smooth skin. Limbs bent oddly. It was… a frog?

“She’s awake!” the pink one declared, hopping closer with visible excitement.

She blinked again, slower this time. The shape resolved further. It was definitely a frog—but far too big. Frogs weren’t supposed to be this big… right? She knew what frogs were. She knew what animals were supposed to look like. Didn’t she?

“Who… what…?” Her voice rasped, dry and weak.

“Are you okay?” the frog asked, leaning in, his eyes wide with concern.

“Yes...? No…?” She groaned softly, her hand drifting to her forehead. Her thoughts were sluggish, like they had to wade through molasses just to form. “My head… what happened…?”

“That mantis flung you into a boulder!” the frog-boy explained quickly. “You were out cold, so we carried you back to our house.”

Mantis? Her mind snagged on the word. Mantis… weren’t those tiny? Insects? Green and harmless? Her thoughts spun. “A mantis?” she repeated, disoriented.

The frog gave her a puzzled look. “Yeah, the mantis you fought. Right after I untied you?”

Untied her? She didn't remember that. She didn't remember anything. She tried to dig deeper, tried to latch onto something, anything before this moment.

Nothing.

Just a name, floating like driftwood in a storm.

“…Anne Boonchuy,” she whispered.

The moment she said it, a pang of anxiety hit her chest. That was her name. She knew it was her name. But beyond that? Emptiness. No faces. No places. No moments. Just static.

Her breathing quickened, her eyes darting from the frog to the other shapes standing nearby. “Why… why can’t I remember anything?” she whispered, more to herself than to them.

No one had an answer.

And the silence that followed was heavier than before.

“Hold on, hold on,” the old one said, raising a hand to halt the flow of conversation. His voice was gravelly but steady, the kind that carried weight whether he raised it or not. “Did you just say… you can’t remember anything?”

Anne swallowed hard. Even the simple act of nodding felt like a risk. “Yeah… I—nothing. Just my name.”

The silence that followed was different than before. It wasn’t fearful or cautious—it was concerned. Heavy with realization.

The pink frog—Sprig—frowned deeply, his earlier enthusiasm fading into something closer to guilt. “You must’ve been hit way harder than I thought…”

Anne looked down at her hands. They were scratched up and sore, and her palms trembled ever so slightly. The memory loss didn’t make sense, and trying to think too hard only made her head throb.

Sprig sat down cross-legged beside her and began recounting what he could. “Okay, so... when I first saw you, I thought you were some kind of forest monster,” he said with a sheepish smile. “I mean, you were huge, and loud, and covered in leaves.”

She cracked a weak smile despite herself.

“But then you saved me—from this giant praying mantis thing,” he continued, growing animated. “Then we sat down to have a chat, then the town people attaked you. Then you helped fight another mantis that showed up. You were protecting us.”

Anne blinked slowly, listening to the story unfold. As Sprig spoke, bits and pieces floated to the surface. Half-images. Flashes. Her hand gripping something heavy. The sound of buzzing. Fear—but not hers. Someone else’s. Sprig’s?

“And you told me… you said you were a human. From another world,” Sprig said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “I didn’t even know what a human was until you said that. It’s all kind of… wild.”

Anne nodded slowly. The words felt true, even if they came from someone else. Human. Another world. The ideas were fuzzy, but not foreign.

By now, she was sitting up, though she leaned against the rough wooden wall for support. Her body still ached, but the warmth of the room and the crackling fire nearby gave her some comfort. Sprig was still talking—chattering nervously now—when the old frog returned, holding something in his gnarled hands.

“Here,” he said. “Drink this. It’s swamproot tea. Should help with the headache. Maybe the memory, too.”

He handed her a carved wooden cup filled with steaming, brownish liquid. The scent hit her first—earthy, a little sweet, a little sour. There were tiny things floating in it. Were those… wings?

Her stomach churned.

Her body gave an involuntary shudder as she stared at the cup. Bug wings. Right. Of course. Still, something in Hop Pop’s expression told her he wouldn’t take kindly to rejection.

She steeled herself and took a small sip.

It was… surprisingly good. Once she got past the texture and the idea of drinking steeped insects, the taste was comforting—like cinnamon and honey with a twist of something unfamiliar but oddly pleasant. It warmed her all the way down to her toes.

Sprig smiled. “Told ya! Hop Pop’s swamproot tea fixes everything.”

The smallest of the trio, a purple tadpole with big eyes and an unimpressed expression, hadn’t said a word. She was perched nearby, arms crossed, watching Anne like a hawk watches a mouse.

Polly.

Anne didn’t know how she knew her name—but she did. Maybe Sprig had said it earlier. Maybe it just clicked. Either way, Polly’s stare was intense.

She got the distinct feeling that if she so much as coughed wrong, Polly would launch herself at her throat like a tiny, screaming missile.

Anne shifted awkwardly, avoiding her gaze.

“You okay?” Sprig asked gently.

“I… think so.” She glanced down at the cup in her hands, then back at the three unfamiliar creatures watching her with varying degrees of interest, concern, and suspicion. “Or, I’m gonna try to be.”

There were still so many questions, still so many blanks. But in that small room, warmed by firelight and surrounded by strangers who had chosen not to leave her behind—there was, if nothing else, a beginning.