#i want to be all self sustained away from everything

[seventh-district]

several days and 15 thousand words later, i am relieved to report that the suffocating urge to Write Something has been sated and no longer has me in a chokehold

[crystallinestars]

Taking Care of Them

Short scenarios about Argenti, Aventurine, and Jing Yuan receiving much-needed care and comfort from you. Pure fluff, a little hurt/comfort for Aventurine's part.

I took some creative liberties with Aventurine's character since we still don't know everything about him yet, so this is simply my interpretation of him.

This isn't proofread because my brain is fried from writing.

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🌹 Argenti:

As a Knight of Beauty, Argenti is a highly skilled fighter who puts his very life on the line to vanquish his foes. Usually, he defeats his enemies with grace and style, but even the refined Argenti sometimes sustains injuries.

In his most recent battle, Argenti made it out practically unscathed, save for a few scrapes and bruises that marred his handsome face. That was how he found himself obediently sitting on your bed while you treated his wounds.

“I apologize that you have to see me in this state,” he murmurs, guilt darkening his expression. “I did not want to cause you worry.”

“No need to apologize,” you brush off his concerns with a smile. “Now turn this way. I’ll clean the scratch on your cheek,” you said as you gently turn Argenti’s face to one side to reveal the shallow, red gash on his cheek.

Argenti complies without hesitance and sits perfectly still as you dab at the scratch with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. It stings, but the Knight of Beauty unflinchingly tolerates the burn with a small smile on his face.

He can tell through the delicate and careful way you clean and dress his wounds that you care a great deal about him. Your touches were gentle so as to not cause him unnecessary pain, yet no less thorough. It felt nice to be touched so tenderly, to be cared for in such a loving manner.

Your heart is beautiful, he thinks. To possess such a caring and loving heart, you must rival the beauty of his beloved Aeon Idrila. Argenti truly believes that you are a wonderful and beautiful person, both inside and out.

As you finish patching up the last wound and pack away your first aid kit, Argenti turns to you and gives you a radiant, sincere smile from the heart.

“Thank you…” he softly says as gently takes one of your hands and kisses the back of it, “You have a dazzling heart—so pure and gentle. I feel like the luckiest man in the universe to have the privilege of receiving your care and affection.”

His words may sound over-the-top and perhaps even fake, but he truly means them. Every single one. Even if you don’t entirely believe him, the amused smile that his flamboyant phrases elicit out of you is all the reason he needs to keep them up.

“You’re welcome. Just try to be more careful next time. I’ll love you no matter how you look, but I hate seeing you hurt,” you murmur in reply and lean in to kiss the band-aid on his cheek.

“There. A kiss to make it all better,” you giggle as you pull away.

The little gesture catches Argenti by surprise, but he can’t say he didn’t like it. In fact, he enjoyed it more than he ever thought he would.

With a small chuckle, he pulls you close to kiss you fully on the lips. If you don’t take his word for it that he feels incredibly lucky to have your love, then perhaps his actions will convey the sincerity of his feelings for you.

🦚 Aventurine:

All his life, Aventurine has faced hate. Hate for being Sigonian, hate for being a dog of the IPC, hate for acting exactly the way that’s expected of his kind. He played into people’s perceptions of him. Why waste time trying to correct their views when they won’t change? It’s easier to just act according to their expectations and hide who he really is behind this playful and sly mask.

Only with you does he let his carefully crafted façade crumble to reveal his vulnerable self.

Aventurine is very good at acting like everything is fine when the world is against him. Perhaps to an extent, he truly believes that life is all about fighting battles on his lonesome. He can use others and get used as a tool in return, but the only one he can trust is himself. It’s the only life he’s ever known.

However, you’ve known him long enough to tell that the hate and isolation get to him, no matter how much he pretends that they don’t. When he comes home one night after a particularly awful day, it doesn’t take long for you to figure out that he feels down.

Aventurine smiled and teased you like usual, but he spoke less and clung to you more than usual. He hugged you from behind and kept an arm around you no matter what you were trying to do, almost as if he was seeking comfort from your physical presence.

Turning to face him, you glance into his tired eyes.

“What is it, darling? See something you like?” he teased, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk.

“Hmm, no,” you hummed. Extending your arms forward, you wrapped them around Aventurine and slowly pulled him into a hug. “I don’t see something I like.”

Aventurine is momentarily stunned by your unprompted action, but he quickly recovers.

“Oh? How come? Am I not appealing enough for you?” he quipped, resting his chin on your shoulder and returning your hug. Unlike your tight hug, his arms wrapped around you in a loose hold, as if he was uncertain how to go about it.

“Quite the opposite,” you softly chuckle, “I don’t see something I like, but I do see someone I love,” you whisper and turn your head to look directly at Aventurine’s face.

A beat of silence passes as Aventurine processes your words, before bursting out laughing.

“That was painfully corny, even for you!” he chuckled.

You scoff but don’t say anything in response, simply continuing to hug him tightly. Slowly, carefully, you card your fingers through his blond hair before moving lower to stroke your palm along his spine in soothing circles.

Aventurine’s laughter dies down, his initial mirth now replaced with something fragile and vulnerable as he falls quiet. He won’t ever share what burdens him, but you don’t need to know the details to provide him comfort. If he doesn’t want to tell you, then you won’t pry. At the very least, you’ll do all you can to support him and remind him that he’s not alone.

Being wrapped up in your warm embrace, feeling your gentle caresses—it all felt unfamiliar to Aventurine. It’s been so long since he felt the tender and loving affection of another person. It took a while, but eventually he relaxed and allowed himself to lean into your body, burying his nose into the crook of your neck.

Silence lingered in the air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was something soothing in not having to talk. It was freeing to not worry about pretending to be okay or be pressured to talk about the things that trouble him.

That hug—that simple act of human affection—made him feel safe and protected in your arms. When you leaned back slightly to plant a tender kiss on Aventurine’s forehead, something inside him snapped and he had to hold back tears. Burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck, he clung tightly to you while you continued to rub slow circles along his back.

“It’s okay. It’ll all be okay, I’m here. You’re not alone…” you whisper, hugging him tighter.

Being wrapped up in your warm hug, feeling your affectionate kisses and gentle words is something Aventurine never knew he needed until now. Just for this moment, he lets his walls come down and bares his wounded self to you with the hope that you can soothe his pain if only a little.

And you do. With whispered reassurances and loving caresses, you ease his hurt, even if just temporarily. He is safe, you promise. He will always be safe in your arms.

🦁 Jing Yuan:

Jing Yuan is notorious for disliking the abundance of paperwork and other leadership tasks he has to take care of on a day-to-day basis as a General of the Xianzhou Luofu. Despite his woeful sighs about how tedious it is, and how the work never seems to end, Jing Yuan still accomplishes all his duties in a timely and precise fashion.

Jing Yuan is a hard worker, you are well aware of that. Which is why when he snuck out of the Seat of Divine Foresight to come spend some free time with you, you offered him to rest on your lap. And who was he to turn down such a tempting opportunity?

Sitting outside on the veranda with Jing Yuan’s head resting on your lap, you softly ran your fingers through his fluffy, white hair, marveling at how silky it was. It was as soft as it looked.

“I could get used to this,” Jing Yuan said with a sigh, relaxing into our touch. His golden eyes were closed as he enjoyed the sensations of your fingers combing through his hair, gently massaging his scalp and soothing any tension he felt.

Chuckling, you looked down at him, mirth dancing in your eyes.

“Really? I wouldn’t mind having you as my lap cat like this more often. Why not come see me every day and get pets?” you tease him as you lightly poke his cheek.

Jing Yuan cracks open one eye to give you an amused look.

“Being your lap cat sounds like a wonderful idea,” he sighs, “Laying on your lap and getting pampered sounds like my ideal life.”

Both of you burst out laughing at the ridiculous notion of Jing Yuan being a lap cat, your spirits lifting as the mood brightened even more.

“Ah, but if you ever want to take a break and relax, you’re always welcome to see me,” you say in a softer voice this time, resuming running your fingers through his tresses.

“I’ll keep your invitation in mind,” he replied, his voice dropping an octave as he relaxed into your touch once more.

The minutes pass in a comfortable and serene atmosphere, with you pampering Jing Yuan with affectionate caresses, meanwhile, the man listens to you talk about your day. You both knew that after this he would have to go back and complete the mountain of work waiting for him, but for now, you were content to spend this little bit of time with your beloved.

Under the warm sun and gentle breeze, with his head resting comfortably on your lap, Jing Yuan felt himself growing drowsy. His eyelids became heavier, and his body didn’t want to move from his position on your lap.

Noticing the General grow sleepy, you fought the urge to tease him. If you pointed out his sleepiness, he would most likely apologize and put a stop to this tranquil moment by getting up and heading back to work. He already saw you less than either of you wanted, simply because work kept him busy. Moments like these were a luxury.

Keeping quiet, you gently massage his scalp until his breaths even out and become deeper, seeming to have fallen asleep. His expression looked so serene and vulnerable, something that very few people have had the chance to witness. As his lover, you were privy to this sight more than most. You watch over him with a small smile on your face, gently tucking away a stray strand of his hair.

Thinking he was asleep, you lean down to press a lingering kiss to his forehead, but as you straighten, you notice Jing Yuan peering up at you with an amused glint in his eyes.

Growing flustered, you quickly look away, feeling your cheeks heat up with a blush.

Jing Yuan only laughs in response, but his laughter quickly turns into a contented purr as you shut him up with another head massage. Whatever teasing remark he had prepared, immediately died on his tongue as relaxation washed over him and he felt sleep take hold of his mind again.

“It’s ok, take a nap. I’ll wake you up in a few minutes,” you murmur, willing Jing Yuan to finally get some rest. You could tell he wanted to protest, but with a light brush of your thumbs over his temples, he released a sigh of defeat and conceded.

“You certainly know how to take advantage of my weaknesses,” he chuckled, voice a little hoarse from drowsiness.

Despite his initial reluctance, Jing Yuan fell asleep fairly quickly. The continuous days of endless work had left him exhausted, but your tender pampering and sweet company were just the respite he needed.

“Sleep tight,” you whisper, gracing him with another sweet kiss on his forehead.

[honeytonedhottie]

getting it together⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🍡

it feels GOOD to have all ur assignments done. to actively pursue ur dreams and goals. to be consistent and in turn -> see results. it feels good to give meaning to ur time and experience sustained satisfaction. this post will give an overview/guide of the BASICS of getting it together. that way whenever u get off track (cuz we're all human) u can easily reference this and get it TOGETHER.

SLEEP SCHEDULE - how does ur sleep schedule look? is it all over the place? fix it. the plan is to get between the range of 8-10 hours of sleep every single night (yes even on the weekends) and to wake up no later than 8 in the morning.

i recommend formulating a "get ready for bed" routine. mine is set with a soothing playlist, a cup of tea, and copious time for self care and meditating on my manifestations. ur night time routine is customizable to YOU, however the goal is to get away from screens or anything that'll tempt you to stay up at unhealthy hours.

THE MORNING ROUTINE - i think that the most influential and important time of the day is the morning. bcuz for me that sets the mood of my whole entire day, so i take my mornings SERIOUSLY and i think you should too.

for me in the morning, i do a light pilates workout/stretch to get my blood pumping, and i feel like it gives me such a boost of energy and sets the mood for the whole day so if u haven't tried i rly recommend working out in the morning. however since this post is for when you've gotten off track start SMALL. a short 5-10 minute stretch or pilates routine is more than enough.

THE IMPORTANCE OF GETTING READY - and i'll STAND ON THIS. even if ur not going anywhere at all that day, make an effort to get ready. make casual glamor a HABIT. getting ready is like, the best part of my day. its so therapeutic, something about the meticulous attention and the amount of time that i pour into myself it feels AMAZING. when u look good -> you feel good

A TO DO LIST - plan out ur week, plan out ur day, ur month. make a super cute calendar or agenda so that way you can get ur tasks done. im someone who needs super detailed instructions of what TO do, so when ik what im supposed to do i can get it done and i can get it done well. and instead of thinking of it as a to-do list, think of it as like a quest or something. tasks that u need to do and then -> you get something in return

ik it sounds rly dumb but sometimes when theres a mundane task that i know i must do, i imagine that im like a SIMS character who has no choice. or i imagine myself as a video game character who is doing it as a task cuz its part of the game. the point of me sharing that hot tip is to make it FUN for yourself. give urself something to look forward to afterwards too. like an episode of ur favorite drama, or a sweet treat.

CLEAN UP - a cluttered space = a cluttered mind. take 20 minutes aside everyday to tidy up so that then u can avoid the day-long cleaning on the weekend and actually enjoy it. when ur space is neat and organized, so is ur mind and it translates to how u view/respect urself. u show that you respect urself when u dwell in a place that it is neat and tidy.

PROPEL YOURSELF - when i've been rotting for a couple days, my go-to routine to propel myself back into my usual swing is : shower (an everything shower is a bit ambitious so go for it if u want) -> drink a COLDDD large glass of water -> do the process of getting ready and then do at least 3 tasks and 2 smaller tasks)

[froggibus]

Camping Headcanons - Batboys + Wally West

Includes: Dick Grayson x gn! reader, Jason Todd x gn! reader, Tim Drake x gn! reader, Wally West x gn! reader

Genre: fluff, mild crack

Summary: spend a weekend away from the city camping with your boyfriend

CW: batboys have peak survival skills, Wally is very Wally, lots of classic camping fun

this is part of my Summer Suntacular event, come check it out!

Dick Grayson:

prefers to camp somewhere off the grid

loves traditional camping and is not at all opposed to just…sleeping on the floor of a tent

can almost definitely set up a tent in two seconds flat—even the jumbo ones that are supposed to take two people to set up

definitely helps that he’s flexible 

if there was a medal for best at camping, he’d probably win it

it's almost annoying how on point his survival instincts are

he can spearfish and does it just to show off

can cook pretty much anything over a fire but if it were up to him he’d just eat soup, burgers & hotdogs the whole weekend

packs 12 pairs of underwear for a weekend of camping

also has insane packing skills, like he could pack 2 weeks worth of supplies in one backpack

even if its not sunny, he WILL somehow tan just from being outside

Jason Todd:

also likes camping off the grid

unlike Dick, he probably prefers sleeping in a trailer or a cabin if he can help it

It’s not that he’s against sleeping in a tent or anything 

but he’s spent so much time sleeping on the hard ground/freezing his ass off that if he can afford the extra comfort, he’ll spring for it

so much more relaxed when you’re camping—it’s almost like he’s a different person

brings about a dozen books to read for like, three days of camping

if you weren’t with him he’d probably read them all too

even if you’re staying in a place with a stove, he INSISTS on cooking stuff over the campfire

a really good campfire cook too—he’ll make you some insane salmon & the most golden toasty s'mores for dessert

dork ass loves telling you scary ghost stories with a flashlight under his chin and everything

all so that you’ll cuddle closer to him that night

lets you wear his comfy clothes and his jacket if it’s cold outside and claims he ‘doesn’t get cold’

Tim Drake:

hard to convince him to leave Gotham for the weekend (mr weight-of-the-world-on-his-shoulders)

threaten to go camping by yourself and suddenly he’ll never leave your side

only camped at fancy resorts/nice cabins before Bruce

really enjoys being off the grid and being self sustaining though

loves those “cooking in nature” tiktoks and probably wants to try them for himself

doesn’t care where he sleeps as long as it has walls—but for you, he’ll get the warmest, comfiest tent or cabin possible

is weirdly prepared for almost any situation AND knows all of your cravings before you even have them

“I really wish we had strawberry marshmallows to make smores with”

“check my green backpack”

brings lots of different card games and WILL beat you at all of them before the trip is over

bring your own secret deck of Uno and watch him have a meltdown wondering how you could possibly have so many +4s

somehow knows exactly what went down with everyone while you were away

Wally West:

he’s like a kid again (as if he ever grew up let’s be fr) 

already has muscle pains from running around so much so at the very least he’s getting the comfiest air mattress ever

but most likely he’ll want to stay in a cozy cabin way off the grid 

with him, no campsite is too far or too remote

cannot cook for shit but will grill you the best burgers and hot dogs ever 

cannot roast s’mores for shit either 

they WILL catch fire and be completely crispy 

offer him one of yours PLEASE

“nah babe, I just really like them like this” 

liar. 

loves loves LOVES campfire cuddles and uses every reason under the sun to cozy up with you

tries to tell scary stories (that he stole from Dick who stole them from Bruce) but ends up freaking both of you out

has to do at least one (1) vigorous activity every day or he’ll be bouncing off the walls all night

has a secret never ending stash of candy on him & shares them with you

packs exactly two pairs of underwear for the entire weekend & is completely unprepared 

however if you forget or need anything else it is a CRIME and he will go get it for you 

manages to stretch a three day camping trip into a week

Summer Suntacular | Masterlist | DC Masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

[starry-eyes-love]

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader (One-shot, AU, No Outbreak). One-shot but in the same universe as Marriage Dynamics. This happens way later than the storyline within that series though.  Can be read as a stand-alone or within the series.

Summary | Joel feels a little self conscious that he has to admit to you, his wife, that he has erectile dysfunction, and that he’s out of his little blue pills. You, being the understanding and loving woman that you are, remind him just how sexy he is, even with his little problem and that love doesn’t come with conditions.

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings | 18+, Minors DNI, Smut.

Age gap (58/40s), language, husband/wife dynamics, got some angst in this one (but it ends where they are ok and happy), smut, f! (fingering), m! (hand job), mentions of f! (oral), slight body descriptions (she states she’s 30 lbs heavier), mentions of erectile dysfunction and Joel having to take Viagra, Joel being out of Viagra (that poor man), sweet and tender moments, comfort, terms of endearment, you teasing Joel that he’s old and him showing you that he’s not.  This is basically half story and half smut, so enjoy :) 

No longer using tag lists, please make sure that your notifications are turned on for my page so you are notified when I post something new.

Top banner created by artist on Instagram:  caimages_love 

The longer your husband snapped his powerful hips and ground into you, the more worked up you were getting. Joel knew how to work you up, get you so riled up that you’d beg him to fuck you. You were trying to bite back your moans and whimpers, not wanting to give in right away.  But when you heard Joel speak filthy things into your ear, you turned into a needy, whimpering little mess. 

Joel stood in the bathroom, looking up at himself in the mirror while sighing. He didn’t know how it happened. How did he become an old man where his body required medication to function normally. Here he was, 58, with a worn out body that he no longer recognized.  He had spent his entire life working construction, and now he was feeling it.  He had aches and pains in places that he didn’t even know existed. He took blood pressure and cholesterol medication everyday just to keep his body somewhat on the right track. But worst of all, he had to start taking a small blue pill to help him obtain and sustain an erection.  Yup, Joel Miller was diagnosed about six months ago with erectile dysfunction, something that he thought only old men got.  But here he was, 58, and having to take Viagra just so he could properly fuck his wife. Joel didn’t know what was worse, having to take the little blue pill or the fact that you knew nothing about it. To make matters worse, he ran out of his special little pills, and he couldn't get any more until about six weeks. His doctor was on vacation and wanted to see Joel upon his return before re-filling his prescription. Joel didn't know how, but he had to figure out a way to keep you happy, without embarrassing himself any further. As he ran a hand down his face, he exhaled loudly, mumbling to himself ‘goddamn, when the hell did I get old?’ 

“What's that scowl for, old man, especially so early in the morning?” You teased, walking up to the other sink in the bathroom to wash your face. Your master bathroom now had two sinks, his and hers. It was a side project that Joel had completed last summer with the help from Tommy. He got tired of your constant nagging of finding his facial hair trimmings in the sink. So he decided to knock out a few walls and build you your very own sink with counter space. A his and hers master bathroom off from your bedroom. It only took a few weekends, but eventually his little side project was done. Now you both had enough counter space, where the two of you weren't bickering about where everything went in the bathroom anymore. Joel no longer grumbled about you taking up his side of the counter with your serums and ointments for your face. And you no longer nagged him about finding his beard trimmings in the sink.

“Quit it,” he had huffed, giving you a dirty look in the mirror as he finished trimming his beard.

“Woah, what's that look for?” You asked, taking a few steps towards him to plant a tender kiss on his cheek. “Good morning. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?”  

Joel exhaled and shook his head, mumbling to you, “mornin,’” as you went over to your sink to wash your face.  You knew Joel enough to know that this scowl on his face was only reserved for when he was upset about something or someone. You had hoped that someone wasn't you. 

“Did I piss you off or something?” You asked while looking at him in the mirror, trying to figure out where his sour mood was coming from. “You're awfully grumpy this morning.”  When he didn't respond, you replied again with a little more bite to your words. “Well, for someone who got laid last night, you don't seem very happy about it today.”

Joel huffed at you while rolling his eyes and mumbling, “yeah, well, I'm paying for it this morning now ain't I? M’back is fucking killing me.” 

Oh, so that's why he was grumpy.

A part of you instantly became frustrated at his statement, but you bit your lip and tried not to say something inappropriate back. You enjoyed last night a lot with your husband, especially when you begged him to go harder. His answer to that request was to hold your head against the mattress as he fucked you hard from behind. It had been a long time since Joel Miller became unhinged like that in the bedroom, and if you were being honest with yourself, it felt fucking fantastic. It was something that you desperately missed.  However, according to Joel’s comments and current mood, apparently he didn't feel the same way today as you did. He was now hurting, wincing as he twisted to grab the scissors to trim his mustache. You didn't want Joel to regret doing what he did with you, nor did you want him to be in any pain. His obvious lack of enthusiasm this morning about your midnight activities made you feel self-conscious.  Nodding your head you said “ok,” as you attempted to wash your face. But when you stood there you felt yourself get anxious and self conscious about last night. 

Did he not enjoy it with me? Maybe it’s because I’m not as thin as I used to be anymore? I did put on about 30 pounds over the years, so maybe I hurt him with my weight?  You knew your body had changed a lot over the years, you no longer had a flat stomach or a tight ass. You had what people called a mom body. A slightly curvy, unattractive, stretch-mark laced body that carried three kids.  Your later adult years were more about raising your kids than it was about going to the gym and looking sexy like a model or a porn star. 

As you stood there, allowing your mind to run wild at the reasons why Joel may have not enjoyed himself last night, your hands started to tremble slightly and your eyes started to sting from the tears that were threatening to form. You quickly splashed water over them to try to stop the emotional reaction that you were getting. You were very hormonal recently, especially since your doctor said that you needed to stop your birth control. She told you several months ago that it wasn't healthy for a woman in her forties to continue to take birth control. So you stopped last month, two months after Joel got a vasectomy. Joel and you were done having kids. With Sarah finishing college, and with three kids that you had with him still at home, you had agreed that the only other future babies that would be in your house would be future grandchildren. What you didn't realize was that when you stopped birth control you would become more sensitive with your emotions again as your body adjusted. 

Usually any type of grumpy behavior or comments from Joel like this wouldn't bother you under normal circumstances, but today you were extra sensitive and emotional. It didn't help that you had been super horny for your husband for the past two weeks while he was gone on a business trip. With the lack of kids for the weekend, Joel had taken his last blue pill right before he got home. When he got home, he barely made it through the door before he was thrusting himself deep inside of you, claiming you once again as his. 

Now as Joel stood there, watching you through the mirror, he knew something was up. You kept alternating between splashing water on your face and then drying it. When he saw you do it a fourth time, he had to say something to you.

“Babe,” he said, trying to get your attention. When you didn't answer, but kept up your routine of splashing water onto your face, he knew something was wrong. He also noticed that you untied and retied your robe several times, mumbling to yourself that you hated your mom-type body. 

Fuck, Joel thought. He could see that you were reading too much into his mood and that you probably were coming to the wrong conclusion yet again with his attitude. Joel wasn't upset or grumpy from the sex he had last night, because damn he loved your body so much. He was so turned on by it last night. He loved pounding his wife’s tight little pussy and hearing all those filthy little noises that you made for him. The reason for his sour mood this morning was because he was out of those damn blue pills, the ones that allowed him to be buried deep inside of you as he heard you moan his name. 

When you didn't answer him, he tried again. “Honey, will ya look at me for a second?” When you finally looked up at him, he saw your lip quiver and the tears begin to fall. He immediately let out an exaggerated sigh, mumbling ‘fuck’ under his breath. 

As soon as you turned to leave, Joel spoke up saying, “baby, I didn't mean anything by it. Fuck, c’mere will ya.” You had only gotten about three steps out of the door before Joel grabbed you by the waist and pulled you hard against his chest. 

“Baby c’mon, I didn’t mean it like that. No, shh, it’s okay, don’t cry,” Joel said, holding you close. He had one arm around your waist holding you firm to his body, while his other hand was gently wiping the tears from your eyes. You wouldn't turn to look at him, so he just held you against his chest while trying to console you. “Baby, come on now. Shhh, don't cry sugar. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I'm not cryin’,” you mumbled, trying to sound stern, but failing miserably at your attempt. Joel cupped your cheek, and gently turned your head back towards him, kissing you tenderly while continuing to softly tell you that he was sorry for his mood and that he loved you. 

Joel Miller may be several things in life. He may be grumpy and not very communicative from time to time. Often he’s described by others as being an asshole, especially when people piss him off. Usually he doesn't apologize for his grumpiness or gruffness, unless it's dealing with family. And it fucking kills him to see you, his wife, someone that he desperately loves and cares for cry because of his behavior. Joel never likes seeing you cry, in fact, it’s his least favorite thing to see.

After a few moments of tender kisses, Joel slowly started to deepen them into more passionate ones. He was walking a fine line here. He was trying to make up for being an asshole to you this morning, but also trying not to progress it too far where his lack of ability in performance would be seen. But with those little whimpers that you were doing, along with how you were gently nipping his neck, Joel found his resolve quickly crumbling.

“Baby, we gotta slow down,” he said, nipping at your collarbone and then giving you a hot and messy kiss to your lips.  

God, it felt so good kissing his wife like this. Joel didn't remember the last time you two made out like this; all lips, tongue and teeth. He slowly backed you up to the wall and then hoisted you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist. After another needy whimper from your mouth, Joel's resolve completely crumbled and he found himself thrusting hard up into you and grinding his hips against your clothed core.

The longer your husband snapped his powerful hips and ground into you, the more worked up you were getting. Joel knew how to work you up, get you so riled up that you’d beg him to fuck you. You were trying to bite back your moans and whimpers, not wanting to give in right away.  But when you heard Joel speak filthy things into your ear, you turned into a needy, whimpering little mess. 

“Is this what my baby wants, huh? Does she want her husband to show her who’s boss? To show her how a real man fucks, hmm? 

“Yes. Please baby, f-fuck me. Show me how a real man does it, I need it,” you panted, reaching down to unbuckle and unbutton his pants. Your cunt was practically throbbing. So desperate to feel your husband’s stretch, to feel so full of him. Joel was a big man, he was long and thick. You always enjoyed the sting of his stretch, and the heaviness of his cock inside of you. 

As soon as you touched Joel’s belt, he remembered the big problem that he had. He was only half hard with the inability to get fully hard for you. Goddamn fucking pills.  Joel, feeling embarrassed at the situation, gently set you back down while placing a hand on top of yours. He was trying to stop you from reaching inside his pants.

“Baby, fuck, we can't” he said, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours, breathing slow, trying to find a way out of this embarrassing situation.

“What? Why? I don't understand,” you said with disbelief. You were trying to understand why your husband, who had been gone several weeks on a work trip, didn't want to have sex with you when the kids were gone. “Is it your back, honey?” You asked somewhat perplexed. “If it is, I can be on top and do all the work for you if you want. I don't mind, really.” You said, trying to reason with Joel to let you touch him more. When he didn't respond you reached forward and palmed him, feeling him only half hard.

“Please stop.” Joel said in a stern voice, grabbing your hand and gently removing it. “I- uh, I can't- fuck- we can’t, ok.” He said, voice shaking as he slowly backed away from you, running a hand down his face. He was disgusted with himself and the fact that he couldn’t give his wife the proper attention that she deserved. 

You stood there bewildered, unable to make sense of what was happening.  Did Joel Miller just turn down sex?  In all the years you two have been having sex together, he has never once stopped sex from progressing. You were racking your brain, trying to figure out why all of a sudden he’d stop you.  And the only solution that you could think of was that maybe you weren’t the only person he was seeing like this. Maybe he, just like your father, had found a new favorite toy on the sideline. You looked at your husband with mortified eyes, fighting with the firm possibility that maybe he was no different than your dad; a lying, cheating, bastard. “Wow mom, I guess you were right, all men do fucking cheat.”

Joel snapped his head up in your direction at your statement. What did you mean that all men cheat? What the hell were you even talking about?  

As you started to walk past Joel he grabbed your arm and said, “what the fuck do you mean all men cheat?”

“Joel, please” you said, struggling to keep your voice even.

“No,” he said, shaking his head and grabbing both of your arms, slightly shaking you in his grasp. “You think I’m cheatin’ on you, is that it? That I’m fucking another woman. Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he growled.

“Joel, please don’t do this. I-I-”

Joel saw your eyes in that moment, saw that you thought he was fucking someone else. That wasn't the case. He didn't want to admit his problem, but goddamn it, he wasn’t going to have you think that he was no different than your father.  Joel had no idea all those years that his best friend, your father, was using him as a goddamn babysitter so that piece of shit could go out and ball half of Austin as your mother recovered from her cancer treatments before she died of cancer.  No. Joel wasn’t a piece of shit like that, and goddamn, it killed him to have his wife think so low of him.

“Baby, ya gotta believe me. I ain’t fucking around on you, ok? Please sugar, ya gotta believe me. I’d never do that.” He said, clenching his jaw, battling with the anger and rage that was rising up inside of his mind. He didn’t want to explode at you over this. He wasn’t mad at you, he was disgusted with himself of why he wasn’t honest with you when all of this shit started for him. 

Joel’s problem of not getting or being able to sustain an erection didn’t happen right away.  It was a slow process.  At first he thought that maybe it was because things in the bedroom had gotten a little stale. But when Joel struggled to keep an erection even when he was alone, he knew that something was wrong.  He didn’t want you to worry, so he didn’t say anything to you. After a lot of embarrassing situations at home, and with himself, he decided that he needed to bring it up to his doctor.  After a few tests, his doctor had diagnosed him with erectile dysfunction, and then had given him a prescription of Viagra to try. At first Joel was nervous about taking them, wondered if he’d feel different.  But once he did, holy shit, it felt amazing. Those little blue pills were like a magic drug.  He could last longer and was harder than he’d been in years.  When he noticed your increase in sex drive because of it, he felt like he won the lottery, especially when he could give you two orgasms with just his dick alone. 

But slowly, his secret was getting harder and harder to keep from you. He quickly realized that those pills took anywhere between 15 to 60 minutes before they started working, which created a problem when you were trying to be spontaneous with him in the bedroom. At first he played it off at being tired, needing to rest for a little bit.  Sometimes he’d also tell you that he needed to take a shower first, to freshen up for you.  But when you’d wake him up on a Sunday morning, rested and freshly showered the night before, he struggled keeping his secret.  He started using blindfolds in the bedroom when the two of you would have sex, so he could hide the fact that he had to take a pill quick.  Sometimes when he waited for it to work, he’d give you oral sex and edge you.  On days when he couldn’t do that, he’d just lie and tell you that he had a really bad headache and he couldn’t have sex right now.  

He hated lying to you. He always wanted to tell you the truth, but every time he got the nerve to tell you something would happen or it just wasn’t the right time.  If he was being honest, he didn’t tell you because he felt embarrassed and ashamed at the situation. 

As you took another step to go around him, he yelled out “I got erectile dysfunction, ok.  And as much as I'd love to fuck ya right now, my dick won't- fuck- it doesn’t get hard like it used to and I ran out of my prescription pills. I ain’t cheatin’, I never have, and I’ve never wanted to. You got to believe me. I know, I’m sorry I haven’t been honest. But baby, I can’t do it anymore with you like we used to.” He said, voice cracking at the end.  Joel covered his eyes for a moment with his hand, wiping the tears away. 

“I want to fuck you so much right now, so much. But I can’t, ya hear me. It ain’t a different reason, baby. My body, it just won’t let me do it anymore. It won’t let me be the man that I’m supposed to be for you.”

You stood there shocked at his admittance.  When you went to open your mouth to console him, Joel quickly cut you off by saying, “I don't need your pity right now. I know I can't perform up to my wife's satisfaction anymore without help. And before you ask, no, I can’t take a pill right now. I have to wait until my doctor is back from vacation in six weeks. And I get it, you can’t wait that long and-”

“Joel” you said, gently cupping his cheeks in your hands. “Honey, I'm so sorry that this has happened.” He scowled at you with your reply, shaking his head and trying to step away. “Baby, please let me finish,” you said, forcing him to stay near you.

After taking a big breath you said, “I wish you would have told me about this when it happened instead of hiding it. Can you get an erection at all or?”

“Sometimes I can,” he said with a sigh, “but it ain't anything to write home about.” Joel let out a long exacerbated sigh. “Fuck, I can't fuck my wife when it's only half hard like this ok, and I’d appreciate it if you didn't think less of me for it and-” 

“Joel Allen Miller,” you said in a commanding tone.  “I would never think less of you for this. Baby, I love you, and everything about you. Yeah it does cause a little bit of an adjustment for us, but honey, I don’t care. You’re my husband and you should never feel like you can’t tell me something like this, ok?”  You then gently cupped your husband with your hand, slowly palming him, feeling him slightly stiffen. 

“Baby I-” Joel said, straining, trying to stay level with his voice and not break down with his words again. He didn't feel like a worthy man right now, and he was so embarrassed to feel or admit it.

“Please, Joel” you softly spoke, “let me try baby, please?”

“Darlin', it ain't gonna-”

“It doesn't have to get fully hard. Just please, please let your wife show her husband how fucking sexy he is, even with this little problem.”

“It ain't a little problem darlin’.” He said, slowly leaning his hips into your touch. He desperately wanted to feel his wife, to be inside her, to fuck her and hear her moan his name. 

“I know it ain’t a little problem honey,” you whispered, gently nipping Joel’s neck. You slowly started to unfasten his belt and unzipped his pants, lowering them with his boxers down to the floor. You encouraged him to step out of them, trying to get him as comfortable as possible. As you stood up, you slowly licked your hand, and then gently wrapped it around his half hardened cock, slowly stroking him the way he liked. You were also nipping, kissing, and lightly sucking on his neck, on the places that you knew drove your husband wild. As you continued, you whispered loving messages to him, things that you hoped would remind Joel of how much you loved him. 

“You are so sexy baby, and so big and strong. I feel so safe with you. I've missed you so much. I missed hearing you snore,” Joel let out a little grunt at that statement. “I've missed hearing you play your guitar, humming in the morning while you make your coffee. I've missed kissing you goodnight, and waking up next to you in the morning with you holding me.”

Joel leaned forward more, pushing your back against the wall as he tapped one of your legs to open wider for him. He quickly placed his hand down your sleep shorts and started playing with your clit as you talked.

“I-ah-I also missed your, your-”

“You missed my what darlin'?” He growled, thrusting his hips into your hand as he started moving two of his large fingers in and out of your wet, throbbing core. 

“Shit Joel, I'm-”

“Did ya miss this baby? Did ya miss your husband's fat fingers fucking you dumb?” He said, nipping at your sensitive spot on your shoulder.

“Mmhmm” you said, tightening your grip around his half hardened cock. Joel wasn't lying, he really did have erectile dysfunction. But at this moment, you didn't care. Your husband was curling those fingers perfectly inside of you, to where you were almost seeing stars while he continued to snap his hips back and forth hard, helping you stroke him the way he liked. 

Even though he wasn't buried deep inside of you. Something about the lewd noises the two of you were making, in combination with not being able to see your husband for the past two weeks, was rapidly propelling you towards the edge with your orgasm. 

Joel could feel your breaths becoming more erratic, and could feel your walls tightening around his fingers. He was also getting closer to finishing himself. Your hand was the perfect tight fit around his cock. He kept rocking his hips back and forth, fucking your hand, feeling himself leak precum everywhere. He wanted to bury himself so badly inside of you, but he knew that he couldn't. Just as he started to feel self conscious again about the situation, your filthy mouth forced him to stay in the moment.

“God, baby, I fucked myself so hard with my fingers when you were gone. But nothing ever felt as good as yours do right now. Fuck, next time I want to fuck myself with my fingers, I'm just gonna use yours-oh fuck.”

“Oh, you dirty fucking girl. Shit- You were fucking those- yeah baby- those small little fingers inside of you pretending- fuck- pretending that they were mine, huh?” He said, speeding up his thrusts with his hips and with his fingers.

“Yes Joel, fuck, don’t stop baby, please don’t-”

“I won’t stop, not until you gush around me.”

The two of you continued to pleasure each other, bringing each other towards the edge, but neither one tipping over just yet.  “Joel, I need more, baby. P-please, give me more,” you moaned. You were desperately snapping your hips back and forth, wishing it was your husband’s cock that was inside of you.

“Aw baby, look at you, riding my fingers like the dirty little girl that y’are.”

“Joel, baby, please-”

“Say it,” Joel growled, “say I'm the only one who makes you feel this good.”

“You are Joel, you are.”

“Say I'm the only one who gets to fuck this tight little pussy whenever I want.”

“Fuck- You do Joel, you do. It's yours, she's all yours.”

“She's all mine, huh?” Joel said, feeling your walls put his fingers in a choke hold with how tight you were squeezing him. “If she's all mine, then do it. Fucking come for me. Show me who's pussy this really belongs to. Ya heard me, I said come, now,” Joel growled. That coil that had wound itself so tight in your belly snapped hard at Joel’s command. You screamed your husband's name as you coated his fingers with your juices. Joel tightened his grip around your hand that was stroking him, while continuing to work you through your orgasm. After a few more hard thrusts himself, he came all over your hand.

You both slowly came down from your highs, and you couldn't help but giggle at the acts that the two of you just did. It brought back memories of when Joel and you dated. As Joel’s giggles eased he slowly ran his hand that was coated with your juices through your hair. 

“Hey you,” he said, smiling fondly down at you. God he loved you so much, in every way possible. You were his soulmate, his better half.

“Wow, where the heck did that come from?” You said, giggling to yourself again. When you looked up you saw how Joel was looking at you, like he could see your soul. 

“I love you so much, you know that right?” He said, slowly running his nose along your jaw.

“I know,” you said, sighing at his affection.

He then grabbed your hair hard in the back of your head, pulling down slightly to force you to look up at him. It didn't hurt, just surprised you a bit, which forced you to listen to the next words that came out of his mouth.

“Then never, ever, hint at the possibility of me wanting to fuck another woman again, ok. Baby, you are the only one for me. I ain't your father, and I sure as fuck ain't my ex-wife.”

Your eyes widened at the mention of Joel's ex-wife, he never told you the in-depth story of what happened, just the highlights that they drifted apart. “Joel, I-”

“No, sweetheart, I ain't talkin’ about her. What's done is done. Just, don't ever say that to me again, hinting that I'd cheat on you. Cause baby, I'd never, haven't ever, won't-”

“Ok Joel, I promise. No more fussin’.” You gently kissed your husband, giving him the slow intimate affection he was just giving you. After a few more passionate and tender kisses, Joel sighed and rested his head against your forehead, while rubbing his nose slowly against your nose. 

“I reckon we both need a shower,” he said after a moment, exhaling and laughing slightly to himself. “Come on, I'll get the shower started.” 

When Joel got to the bathroom doorway you said, “wait a sec,” and then walked up to him as he turned around to look at you. 

“Next time, please tell me this stuff ok? No more secrets.” He nodded his head in understanding as you leaned up and placed another tender kiss to his lips. When you pulled back you added, “good, cause I hate to break it to you. You’re officially now an old man.” Then with another small peck to his cheek, you sauntered off into the bathroom, giggling at the nickname that you gave him back when he was in his thirties. After starting the shower and getting in, you yelled back “are you coming old man, or do I need to help you with your wheelchair?”

“No wiseass, ya don't,” he yelled, looking up at the ceiling and shaking his head at your smartass remark. 

When he looked down he saw himself in the mirror once again. Yes, he did have gray in his beard, in his hair, and on his chest. He also could see that he wasn’t as physically fit as he once was in his 30s, but he still looked good.  He needed glasses to read most of the time now, and you and Sarah constantly harassed him about it. But that was ok. He liked it, and he loved you both dearly. He also creaked worse than the old board on the stairs, along with feeling his age every time he tried to do something that he knew he shouldn't. 

Sure, he had to take medication for his high blood pressure and high cholesterol. And now he got to add a little blue pill to the regimen, just so he could have sex with his wife. He was also at that age where he needed a colonoscopy done, something that was scheduled next week for him. 

With all of these things going on, Joel did have to admit that he was older than when he first started dating you. But even with this admission, he knew from the moments before that he’s never made you come so hard in your life from just his fingers alone. So you could say getting old did have its advantages.

With a small smirk on his face, and a slight puff to his chest, Joel quickly entered the shower with you. When you turned around he said, “old my ass. I'll show you who's old, ya little shit.” Joel then dropped down to his knees and ate you out like a starved man. After he gave you another two orgasms, one of which he heard you screaming his name off the shower walls. He eventually found himself lying next to you, cuddling you in the bed. You were exhausted from all of your extracurricular activities the past two days, and were curled up and ready for a nap. After catching your breath, Joel slowly whispered in your ear, “who's old now darlin’?” 

Before you could answer, Joel made his way down back your body and gave you one more Earth shattering orgasm. He wanted to prove a point. That he, in fact, wasn't too damn old.

End Story

[terrible-eel]

I may be too stressed to articulate this clearly but I am going to try.

While Hawai'i and Maui are trending I'm going to share this link. Its a FAQ about Hawai'i's statehood and the situation Hawai'i is in at the moment. There are people who want to be part of the U.S in Hawai'i and there are people who don't, but the people of Hawai'i were never, at any point, given an option to choose.

If you want to help Hawai'i and it's people but can't donate, spread this word. Help educate people. Make Hawai'i as the tropical paradise be replaced with the sovereign nation stolen by the u.s.

It is subtropical, meaning it is much more vulnerable to arid climates caused by climate change.

It has been systematically stripped of its native food harvesting practices and any ability to farm and self sustain. It has been systematically stripped of its previous industries. Maui used to export milk and cattle. That's all been taken away.

The islands since the 1800s were exploited as plantations, burning sugar cane and growing pineapples which are not native, diverting the water and depleting the water table.

Lahaina burned because of these practices. Because the native people were no longer allowed to govern their lands.

We as local people know that tourism is bad because this systematic destruction has happened in living memory. Within my grandparent's lifetimes, within my lifetime. I have watched this island crumble at the hands of mainland startups, hoping to take people on whale watching tours that cut the whales with their boats while people aren't allowed to have a ferry between islands. People create ziplines and tours through lands that used to belong to local people for farming and cattle. Now they're bought out for photos and hikes the local people can never afford. Hundreds of jobs have been lost in the past thirty years. Mass migrations to the mainland have been made by local people, myself included because we can no longer afford to stay on the island where we were born. Working three jobs is not enough to cover the rent because the houses are bought up by mainland people who then turn these houses into vacation rentals and charge hundreds a night. Right now these very homes are being paid for by the government so that Lahaina people have somewhere to stay and it's costing the state millions that people in the mainland are reeping.

People ask why tourism is bad. Because there are people alive today on Maui that have watched the foreign industries destroy everything. Because people alive today know what used to be and knew how to take care of the ecosystem so that this kind of calamity didn't happen. Lahaina was not just fertile. They had canals and waterways. Rivers that they would drive boats through to go from one part of town to another. It was more like Venice than this desert you see in pictures.

And do your own research. The information is out there. There are two Hawai'i's. The one you see as a tourist, and the REAL one. The one we need to protect.

Let Hawaiians have their land back. Let them restore the water to the land so we can prevent further catastrophe. Tell people about REAL Hawaii.

[grandline-fics]

hellooo!!! i really liked your unconscious protector story so i wanted to ask if you could make a story about luffy and zoro in which the reader has the most beautiful smile ever and they would do anything just to see them smile

i think it would be really cute and fluffy😭😭

DESCRIPTION: Your smile is all they want to see

WARNINGS: fluff central, established relationships this time

CHARACTERS: Luffy, Zoro

WORDS: 1,030

A/N:  Thank you so much for the request. I'm still sick so I hope this turned out to your liking! I decided to do it a little differently for these guys but hopefully it still works

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

LUFFY

The first time Luffy saw you smile was the sole motivation he had to try and convince you to join his crew. It was as simple as that. Sure you were a good fighter and someone he was willing to help when you first met but he had been more than happy to just leave things there when he and the rest of the Straw Hats were ready to move on but then you just had to smile. Finally able to express just how grateful you were to him and the others you broke out into the biggest, warmest smile and wished him a safe journey. Only it caught you and everyone else by surprise when Luffy’s hands latched onto yours and he stared intensely at you begging you to come with them. While you were thrown briefly you couldn’t deny the urge to see the world and seeing how sincere Luffy was you could only say yes and follow him loyally. 

Since then he made it his own personal mission to get you to smile at him at least once a day. It was almost like it was as necessary as his meals, sleeping, and water. If he didn’t get a dose of your smile he wasn’t his usual bouncy self. The only time it came close to a full on disaster was when the crew split up into two groups on an island and didn’t regroup until late that night. When you returned you were startled by Luffy tackling you to the ground, shouting your name. Since you were used to your Captain’s impulsive and energetic nature you could only reason his actions were fuelled by excitement. So you could only grin at him and greet him with a warm “I missed you too, Luffy.” After seeing that which he’d been deprived from all day his shoulder’s visibly relaxed and he pulled you into a tight hug. Those in the group that had to suffer their Captain’s foul mood made an unanimous decision to never go with Luffy again unless you were joining them. 

After you and Luffy became an item, he found it so much better because then he could see you smile all the time. You were both practically inseparable and while it was easy to get you to smile before by just pointing out things that excited him he found that being a couple brought new ways to see the thing about you that just warmed him and sustained him so completely. Getting to sit side by side with you on the Sunny with his arm around you and talking about anything and everything always brought a smile to your face, unable to believe how lucky you were. Even when you asked him why it was you he wanted, Luffy could only tickle your sides lightly until you broke out into a laugh and bright grin. “That’s why. It’s my favourite thing in the world.”

ZORO

“Ugh he’s in a bad mood again.” Usopp sighed and you looked across the Sunny to see your boyfriend doing pushups. Silently you looked at the focused determination on his face that the others would mistake to be one of his ‘come near me and I’ll cut you’ moments. However this wasn’t one of those moments. You bit back the smile fighting to creep across your features and you nodded slowly, lightly tapping the sniper’s arm you gave him a convincing reassuring smile and as you walked away you promised “I’ll speak with him.” You knew Zoro was just too focused on his training but you just didn’t want anyone else to bother him. In moments like these when the other’s were giving your boyfriend a wide berth you liked to take advantage of it and have some alone time with him.

Just as his body was close to the deck you lay over him abruptly, knowing that your added weight wouldn’t faze him. You grinned when he paused his workout, body locked in the position. Draping your arm over his shoulder you lay your cheek against his head and grinned. “Apparently you’re in a bad mood.” You told him when he resumed his pushups and made a small uninterested huff.“And you’re risking yourself by being in my very presence?” he asked in a low voice, knowing you were the only one that could hear him and with the perception that he was in a bad mood, no one would be looking his way which meant he could smile a little more openly. 

“Oh don’t worry about me,” you mused. “I know how to defeat you, Demon Pirate Hunter in one move.” Now Zoro chuckled, his workout promptly forgotten and you could tell by his posture that he was done. With a knowing hum you got off of him to let him stand and reach for a towel to wipe his face.  

“One move huh?” Zoro asked, throwing his towel across his shoulders, finding he was already missing the warmth of your brief, distracting embrace. Now he’d just have to settle with you standing in front of him, relaxed and playfully regarding him with your best imitation of his usually stoic expression. “Care to demonstrate?”

“I don’t know…it is pretty powerful. Promise you can handle it?” Zoro rolled his good eye, indulging you. Slowly he folded his arms across his chest and made a single gesture with his finger, signalling you to hit him with this so called powerful move. Unsurprisingly you accepted the challenge. 

Stepping forward you placed your hands on Zoro’s arms and peered up at him making sure his gaze was focussed on your face. Then you beamed up at him with a bright smile that only grew when you felt him tense immediately. “You’re bounty went up again! Congrats, babe!” You cheered, watching in satisfaction when Zoro quickly lowered his head to press it against your shoulder, his arms pulling you close. “Damn that smile of yours.” He grumbled lightly. As much as he hated the idea of being vulnerable in most aspects of his life, he couldn’t hate this.

“You know you love it.” You grinned. He did, he really did.

[senseandaccountability]

“Is this truly our prodigal son?” - meta ramblings about Astarion and Cazador and breaking vicious cycles

“I didn’t have a choice… but it seems now I do.” Astarion is indeed the prodigal son in the sense that he has to return to his home in order to find himself and his purpose. 

For at least half the game, he is - at least outwardly - what he has been made to be. A pretty facade to be consumed. In the mirror he doesn’t see himself, he remembers nothing of his past, he can’t even read the words etched into his own back - he is, in all aspects, unwritten, unmade until he starts walking back into his own life. Reclaiming it. Or rather - remaking it. Because there is nothing sustainable there to reclaim, his heritage from Cazador contains nothing but death and violence. And power built on those two ingredients. Even when he claims that’s what he wants - power, walking in the sun, to never be afraid of anyone again, you can hear how hollow the desire is. Isn’t this what you want for me? he asks Tav, equal parts manipulation and the fact that he probably has no idea whatsoever how to figure out if he wants something like that for himself. He’s never had the luxury of choice. Shouldn’t I want this? When Tav later says that considering slaughter of seven thousand spawns isn’t who Astarion truly is he doesn’t even say she’s wrong, he replies: IT SHOULD BE.

“If I can’t have my freedom, then neither can they.”

Astarion is also, to use the same religious myth, the son who remained behind and keeps count. He counts the injustices done to him, he compares, he gathers bitterness and lust for revenge over two hundred years. Nobody ever did anything to help him. Nobody came to his rescue - he even says so himself early in the game that no hero saved him, it was the mindflayers who did. He admits to Gale that he’s prayed to all deities - but no one answered. When Tav prods about the countless of spawn he’ll sacrifice for his own ritual he brings up the same argument - what about what he’s owed? Everything was taken from him, too!

“You’d almost feel sorry for the poor, deluded souls. But they’re idiots who brought this on themselves, so… don’t.” 

Astarion doesn’t want to identify with the victims because then he has to identify as a victim. (Or even worse, someone who willingly accepted the offer of a vampire, aka idiot who brought this on himself.) And no matter how much he talks about what Cazador put him through, he’s not ready to do that, not fully. Instead he pushes them further away from himself, especially as his guilt and pain and self-loathing gets poured into preparing for the Ascension. That one thing that will finally separate him from everyone else, make him safe and untouchable. The others, the victims, they’re weak, pathetic, nothing like him at all, they’re too far gone, they’re different, they couldn’t survive out there so it’s better he kills them so they serve a purpose. It’s not exactly subtext, either, Tav can outright ask him if he really intends to kill them just because they remind him of himself and his voice breaks when he answers that. “They do not. That weakness inside me is dead. It’s dead. I have a higher purpose.” He comes a little bit closer to breaking out of his cycle with the Gur children, they happened not that long ago, he’s visibly moved by the fact that he had forgotten them and felt nothing when he delivered them and when Tav asks about his feelings on the subject, he admits: “I just… I never want to see these little scraps of misery again. The world doesn’t need to know my shame.”

But it takes the encounter with Cazador to truly break out of the pattern.

“Did I not make you who you are?” “Do not slouch before me, boy! Have you no respect for yourself?” he snaps at Astarion when you first enter his ritual. And when the camera pans to Astarion, so full of rage and fully intent on killing Cazador with his bare hands if he has to, we see that he actually does slouch. He’s that boy again.

He’s returned, the boy who caused so much trouble, who screamed the sweetest when he was tortured, who was thrown into a tomb for a year for refusing his order and who eventually stopped fighting back. Godey says: “You always were sharp, little one. Sharp enough to cut yourself.” The boy who Cazador tried to make something of, but to no avail. He was incorrigible. “I fondly remember your empty boasting, your tired jokes, your endless prattle…” All abuse aside, Cazador hurts Astarion in that precise way only a parental figure can hurt a child - through constant disappointment, the cruelty of not caring. The parent that only punishes, that sees nothing but faults. He even tells Astarion that he ought to be begging their forgiveness for coming crawling back after abandoning them. “Forgiveness? You’ve never forgiven anything.” / “No! No, fuck you and fuck everything you’ve ever done to me.”

“I’m so much more than what you made me,” Astarion tells Cazador when he finally has him on his knees, one last attack away from getting the revenge he’s dreamed of for two hundred years. When he asks Tav for help he - again - brings up the “isn’t this what you want?” Because even if he knows he’s more than what Cazador created him to be, he doesn’t know what that “much more” consists of yet. If you detect his thoughts at that moment you learn that he’s afraid, hungry, intoxicated. That all he can see is the power of the ritual and the freedom to do anything - to be anything.

“I want you to live a life you’re proud of,” Tav pleads. “You can’t be proud of this.” Tav who sees someone else in him, a way forward that isn't steeped in Cazador's tyranny. Tav, who treats him like a person, with autonomy.

“I know you think this will set you free, but it won’t. The power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador.” And it was this Astarion required to truly remake his life. Returning as the prodigal son to the place that was his home, where he was taught he amounted to nothing, that he was a means to an end, that the only way to ever feel safe in life is to hold power over someone else. 

That’s why I found his “No! No, fuck you and fuck everything you’ve done to me” so powerful, because it’s it’s much more than an insult or a protest. It’s an acknowledgement that you were hurt and that you didn’t deserve it. 

And by extension here - that you’ve hurt others in turn and they didn’t deserve it, either. That perhaps you are just the same as the weak, pathetic spawn in the dungeons. That perhaps we all are. That perhaps the true power lies in daring to hope. For forgiveness, for understanding, for more people out there to have a heart like Tav’s. That you, if you’re given a chance to make choices for yourself, can make a life you can feel proud of. Even if it means you have to let others see your shame. To care again is to live again, like Tav says while they're exploring casa Cazador. And Astarion wants to feel alive.

When you can make Astarion realise he can be better than Cazador, he immediately shows  protectiveness towards the spawn, telling his siblings to lead them to the Underdark and then telling the truth to the Gur but making sure to point out that if they come hunting - they’re hunting their own children. Cazador’s been dead for a couple of minutes and Astarion is already doing a better job as some sort of wretched father figure for these poor souls. Because he's given them freedom to make their own choices, treated them as equals. Shown them the care nobody ever showed him before. That's how you break cycles and pack one hell of an emotional punch. Fuck you and fuck everything you’ve done to me, indeed.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 4861

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, mental illness, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

11. Palmiers

Bucky

Because he’s on the far end of the spectrum, Bucky’s sex drive is affected by his condition. He wakes up hard almost every morning of his life, and Steve doesn’t need much encouragement to get himself worked up into the same state very quickly. Mutual morning jerk offs were always bound to become part of their routine.

They take a shower and stand toe to toe, hands sliding and groping all over each others’ slick bodies, pulling on their cocks until both of them are shooting off against each other’s bellies. The water washes it away, and Steve gives him a deep, happy kiss. “Mmm. Mornin’.”

“Blegch. Go brush your teeth, you heathen.”

Steve laughs and gets out of the shower. Bucky stays in for a few minutes longer, adjusting the spray to its hardest setting and letting the hot water beat down on his back and shoulders. He sighs and stretches his neck this way and that, trying to get his vertebrae to pop, but his muscles are all too tight, and the stretching just seems to make it worse. Bucky drops his head in defeat. In all honesty, his shoulders and neck and back are all pretty fucked after months of near-constant use of his prosthetic.

Steve’s right: he doesn’t usually wear it this much. And he’s also right that Bucky’s been wearing it all day every day because he wants to feel powerful and able bodied in front of Mary. As per usual, Steve is the first one to have noticed what maladaptive behavior pattern he’s doing and why, and pointed it out to him. It really is for the best, Bucky knows. Because he can’t sustain wearing the arm all the time anymore. The thing is just too damn heavy.

The engineers who designed it have made tweaks and adjustments over the years. They’ve done all they can to lighten the load as much as possible, but the thing still weighs over twenty pounds. Twenty pounds doesn’t sound like much, but when it’s pulling on the same muscle groups day in and day out, everything in Bucky’s body winds up getting strained and unbalanced. He understands better now, how women fuck up their necks so badly from shouldering their purses (or their tits) around. A little bit of weight makes a big difference.

As a Dom, Bucky may have a tiny problem admitting when he needs help. He has to be in quite a bit of pain, trouble, or both, before he’ll ever speak up and allow himself to be vulnerable like that. It’s an inherent behavior that shrinks have been trying to therapize and medicate out of him since he was a kid, but nothing ever changed it much. Falling in love with Steve helped; Bucky can let himself be more vulnerable around him. But even still, it’s no small thing that he regularly approaches his husband to ask for help in getting his arm back on correctly (Bucky can do it, but it’s a pain in the ass, getting the mechanism lined up just right before it’ll take). 

He gets out of the shower and dries off, then approaches Steve with the prosthesis. “Gimme a hand?” 

Steve makes a cheerful noise of acknowledgement around his mouthful of toothpaste, spits and rinses, then takes the arm from Bucky. He lines it up just so, and then Bucky feels the deep shudder of the arm’s inner workings coming to life as they recognize their mate. The arm attaches and Steve lets go. 

“Thanks babe.”

“Uh huh.” 

It’s as Bucky’s bending over and pulling up his underwear and joggers that a spasm runs through his back and he cries out in a pained, “Ah!”

“Babe? What’s wrong?”

Gritting his teeth, Bucky slowly stands back up. He’s able to get his pants up, but when he tests the movement of his neck and shoulders, the pain flares again. It feels like everything between the base of his skull and his mid back is seizing up. “Fuck,” he hisses, frustrated. It’s his day off. He’d been planning to go to the gym for his long workout. 

Steve steps up and puts a worried hand on his left shoulder. “Babe? Do you need it off?” 

“No. I need some painkillers and a magnesium tablet,” he grunts, already turning around (full body, because turning his head is a bad idea right now). “Fuck.” He starts off for the kitchen. 

Steve follows along with worried protests, telling him to lay his “stubborn ass” down and he’ll get it for him. Bucky ignores him and goes to the kitchen cabinet where they keep their supplement stuff. He winds up yelling again when he tries to reach up and grab the ibuprofen. “Fuck!” he says angrily.

“Babe, I said to let me do it,” Steve scolds, his hand back on Bucky’s shoulder. “And let me take this off. It’s hurting you.”

“Steve, back off,” he snaps, angry and waspish from being in pain, and from being frustrated with his own goddamn body. 

“What’s going on?” 

Bucky turns his head without thinking, hisses in pain, and then turns himself full-body to face in Mary’s direction. She’s standing there looking at the two of them in concern, one hand holding one of those swirly, flaky, crack-cookies that she makes, and the other holding a cup of tea. Her eyes widen at the sight of Bucky’s arm and body, reminding him that this is the first time she’s seen him without a shirt on. “Nothin’,” Bucky grunts.

“Shit,” she says. “Are you guys fighting? Is this a couples’ fight? I’ll just …” She turns to leave back towards her room.

“We’re not fighting,” Steve says. “Buck’s just being an ass. He gets that way when he’s in pain.”

Bucky would turn his head to glare at him, but it isn’t worth another flair of agony in his shoulder. “I’m fine,” he says, when Mary comes back over. “It’s fine,” he stresses. He opens the pill bottle and dumps three capsules into his palm. “Jeez, will everybody stop babying me? I just need a glass of water.” 

“I’ll get it,” Steve says, causing Bucky to huff once again. “Don’t be a jerk, babe.”

“Why are you in pain?” Mary asks, her eyes tracing all over the left side of Bucky’s scarred up body. “Is it … does your arm hurt?” 

“No. It just fucks up my muscles, sometimes.”

“Your muscles?”

Bucky sighs impatiently. “Steve, do you know where the heating pad is?”

“I’ll have to look.” Steve has returned with a glass of water, and Bucky tosses back the handful of pills, wincing at how even the slight motion of raising his arm up makes his trap twinge in protest. “Ugh.” 

“You should get a massage,” Mary suggests, and Bucky fights not to lash out at her. She doesn’t know that one of his biggest pet peeves in life is having other people tell him what he “should” do.

“My PT maxed out back in October,” he tells her. “Doesn’t renew again till January.”

Steve takes the water glass from him once he’s done. “Go lie face down on the bed,” he murmurs. “I’ll find the heating pad.”

“Well I could do it,” Mary blurts out. Both Bucky and Steve pause and look at her. She looks surprised, too, as though she hadn’t been planning to say the words until they were out of her mouth, and now doesn’t know how to continue  “Um, that is ..." she gestures weakly with her cookie. “I just meant I know how to, if you wanted.” Eventually her cheeks color and she looks away. “Erm, Nevermind.”

“Wait,” Steve says. When Mary turns back, he’s looking at her earnestly, and Bucky thinks, Oh no. “You know how to give a back massage? Like a real one?”

“Yeah. My, ah, my ex always had neck problems, so.” She shrugs, looking embarrassed. “I took a class at the community college, learned the basics.”

Bucky blinks. That’s the subbiest fucking thing he’s ever heard. “You did this for the husband that beat you?” he drawls, immediately regretting it because it comes out sounding way more derogatory than he intends it to. “Sorry. I just … actually would pay good money for a massage right now. If you know how to do it.” 

Mary bites her lip, looking deliciously shy and sweet. Bucky’s mood sours as he realizes that she doesn’t really want to. He’s about to let her off the hook, but then some unconscious movement he makes without meaning to has him flinching in pain again. “Sheezus,” he complains. 

“It’s not usually this bad,” Steve worries.

“I must’a slept on it wrong.”

Mary nods, as if this settles it. “Okay. Well, go in the bedroom and tie your hair up so it's out of the way.” She turns to Steve, all but dismissing Bucky now that she’s got a task to complete. Bucky fights back an amused smirk as he heads towards the bedroom, and he hears Mary bossing Steve around, telling him she needs dry oil, the heating pad, towels, and all the seat cushions off the couch. 

The fuck does she need those for? Bucky thinks as he pads back into his and Steve’s room.

He finds out a moment later, when Mary and Steve come in with a couch cushion each, and Steve goes back out to get another. They lay them in a line on the bed, and Mary directs Bucky to lie on top of them, with his body placed just so and his face down just there, and … Oh. He gets it.

She’s left space between the cushion under Bucky’s chest, and the next cushion up, which supports his forehead. The gap creates a drop through for his face—like a massage table. And when she shapes the towel into a donut shape and sticks it there, it's pretty much perfect.

“Oh,” Bucky says, as he’s settling into place. “Oh, that’s actually really smart.” He can’t see Mary from his position, but somehow he senses her preening over the praise anyway. Steve returns from the bathroom with the heating pad and oil. “Found this stuffed in the back of the linen closet. I don’t know what ‘jojoba’ is, but, um … it’s either that or the virgin olive out in the pantry.”

“Do not use that,” Bucky grumbles. “Shit’s expensive, and I don’t wanna smell like garlic truffle for the next three days.”

“That’ll work fine.” Mary is totally task focused, ignoring Bucky’s surliness and telling Steve to apply the heating pad across Bucky’s shoulders and neck for thirty minutes before they get started.

“Thirty minutes?!” Bucky complains, unable to see anything but the top of the bedcovers as the two of them go out into the hallway. 

“Just relax, Babe,” Steve says (and if Bucky isn’t mistaken, he sounds amused). “Take a nap.”

“I just woke up!” He scoffs at the bedspread when the door quietly ‘snicks’ shut and he realizes that he’s been abandoned. “Well okay then,” he mutters petulantly. Steve is right: he does turn into an ass when he’s in pain. Hmm. Maybe he should work on that.

Steve

Steve turns the tv onto a low volume so they can talk without Bucky hearing. “Sorry about him,” he says. “He’s a humongous jerk whenever he’s feeling crummy.”

“You mean it’s not just all the time?” Mary drawls.

“He’s … just one of those people you have to learn to love before you like them.” Mary raises an eyebrow, and Steve winces. “Er, that sounded harsh. Don’t tell him I said that.”

She twists her lips and looks down. “Your secret’s safe with me.” 

“Thanks, Hon. You want more tea?” 

“Yes please. There’s more of the palmiers in a baggie next to the coffee pot, if you want any.” 

“Heck yeah, I love those things.” Steve had thought the prepackaged ones at Starbucks were good, hadn’t even realized that they weren’t supposed to be all stale and hard like that. Just another commercialized pastry that Mary’s gone and ruined him for. He goes into the kitchen and makes himself coffee and Mary tea, knowing by now how she takes it.

She thanks him silently as he returns and joins her on the couch, both of them sitting close to one another on the chaise, since it’s the only part of the couch that still has its cushion.

"Palmier is French. Know what else they call these?" Mary asks.

Steve's lips quirk. Mary's always got these little facts she knows about the origins of this pastry or that. It's cute. Endearing. "No," he plays along. "What?"

"Elephant ears, because of the shape, see?"

"Oh yeah. Huh. That's neat."

She goes back to eating and sipping at her teacup, and after a moment of unrequited, affectionate staring, Steve looks away. "Elephant ears," he murmurs, trying not to be mopey. "That's funny."

They split the palmiers between them, and aside from the sounds of them munching cookies and sipping their drinks, it’s quiet for a long time. Steve made both the tea and the coffee very hot, so they at least have the excuse of cradling and blowing on their steaming mugs to keep the silence from being too awkward. Mary keeps her eyes trained forward, but Steve gets the sense that she isn’t really paying attention to the home renovation program that’s playing on the tv. His suspicions are confirmed when she eventually asks,

“So: His arm.”

Steve inhales slowly. “Yeah. His arm.”

“What happened?”

Steve frowns. He can tell by her inflection that she’s asking not just about the arm, but about the state of Bucky’s entire left side from shoulder to hip. “We were in the army,” he confides. “Deployed overseas. I made captain young, but he was a specialist in the field: a sniper. So I wasn’t put into the same types of situations as he was. His convoy got blown up by an IED. And when the dust settled …” He shrugs. “No more arm.”

“Oh.” Mary sits there and absorbs that information. “I guess I kind of figured it was something like that. I mean what else is there, besides like, a shark attack or something?”

Steve’s mouth twitches. Shark attack, ha. He’ll have to suggest that one to Buck. Might be fun to lie about, the next time a stranger asks. “Naw, just a boring old bomb. And afterwards, well. It was a long road for him, after. He didn’t have the arm when I met him.”

Mary turns her head, surprised. “Oh. You two didn’t meet in the army?”

“No, after. I met him at the V.A., when he was already angry, hurt, and didn’t want to be where he was.” Steve looks over and gives her a meaningful look. “Kind of like when I first met you.” 

Her eyes widen, and then her face colors and she looks away again, pulling her knees up and hunkering over her mug. “Was I really that bad?” she mumbles.

“... You were pretty bad, Honey.”

She frowns and doesn’t say anything, and Steve decides to leave it alone. “So yeah, his arm. He got into a program for experimental cybernetics. It was a big gamble. Back then, he still had his arm down to nearly the elbow, which meant he could use a lot of the different types of prostheses they had on the market. The less arm you have, the less they can do for you. The surgeries for the implant required removal all the way up to and including his left shoulder blade. So if he went through with it and the procedures didn’t work out, he’d be left with less function than he started with.”

“Jeez.”

“Hm, yeah. It was a risk.” Steve stares across the living room as he remembers all of the hospital stays and surgeries and revisions and therapy appointments. “Luckily it worked out. They replaced some bones with metal supports, some of his natural muscle with enhanced synthetic tissue. His body didn’t reject any of the junk they were putting in him, which was the biggest worry. All in all, it took five surgeries over the course of three years, and then a shit ton of physiotherapy. Buck says it was worth it, now, but it wasn’t a walk in the park when it was happening, I’ll tell you that.”

Beside him, Mary makes a sad little noise in her throat. “But … all that and it still gives him pain?”

“Yeah. He gets PT for it, but like he said; it never winds up lasting the full year. I force him to my veterans' support group when I can, but he’s gotta be in a really charitable mood for that.” Steve snorts humorlessly. “He’s always hated being disabled. It doesn’t jive with his DPD. You know that stereotype about men: never wanting to stop and ask for directions?” 

“Yeah.”

"Well it's true. And then you take a guy who’s as far on the spectrum as Bucky is, and it’s ten times worse.” He widens his eyes in emphasis and gets a little giggle out of Mary for it, which makes him warm with pride. He pulls his feet up onto the couch next to Mary’s and nudges her knee with his. “Just fair warning: He’s the worst patient I’ve ever seen. So don’t take it personally if he’s grumpy at you in there.”

Mary frowns and looks away. “Well, I mean I don’t have to do this. If he doesn’t want to.”

“Pretty sure he wants to. And he needs help with it, whether his stubborn ass wants to admit it or not.”

She nods, though she still doesn’t look confident. “It’s been over a year since I worked on anybody …”

“Well then this’ll be good practice for you, won’t it?” Steve nudges her again in encouragement and tells her to finish up her tea: He doesn’t expect Bucky’ll lie around patiently for much longer.

(“Oh, and Hon, maybe don’t tell him we were out here talking about him this whole time.”)

(“Duh.”)

In the bedroom, Mary climbs onto the bed next to where Bucky is laid out on the couch cushions. She takes the heating pad off his neck and puts it aside, looking nervously over the broad expanse of his back. “Um …” She reaches for the oil bottle and pumps some into her hands. She spends a long, long time just spreading it between her hands and staring at Bucky, until finally he snaps,

“What’s the holdup?” 

“Babe, be nice,” Steve warns. “Mary? You need anything?”

“Um, no. It’s just … usually I'd ..." She makes an aborted move, like she's thinking about repositioning herself, but winds up staying where she is. "Right," she mutters to herself. "This'll work fine." She reaches forward like she’ll start rubbing Bucky’s back, hesitates, shuffles closer to his side, then sets her hands on his shoulders.

Bucky doesn’t so much as twitch, but he’s not used to new people touching him, and Steve would bet money that his eyes are clenched shut right now.

“Okay,” Mary warns. “I haven’t done this in awhile, so don’t get your hopes up for a miracle or anything.”

“Anything’ll be better than what I can do myself,” Bucky says gruffly, voice somewhat muffled by the cushions. “Just go to town. You can’t hurt me any worse.”

Steve can see Mary’s face, and he knows by now what she looks like when she’s flustered. Awkwardly, he steps to the side, heading for the door. “I’ll just go watch some—”

“No!” Mary squeaks, and when Steve turns back around she’s looking at him with wide eyes. “Don’t leave,” she says, like being left alone touching Bucky is the worst possible thing that could happen. Steve doesn’t miss how the muscles in Bucky’s arms do tense at hearing her plead for Steve to stay. 

“Uhm, okay. I’ll just … be over here.” He leans back against the dresser, feeling almost painfully awkward. Once again, he’s reminded how Mary has shown absolutely no desire to engage in sexual contact with them. He hopes she doesn’t think this is a ploy to force physical contact. She was the one who suggested it, after all.

She starts at the base of Bucky’s skull, rubbing her thumbs in small circles. “As I go along, try to tell me which areas feel the worst,” she murmurs, and Bucky hums in acknowledgement. Steve watches as she pushes and circles and kneads Bucky’s neck, working down on into his shoulders. He’s struck by how feminine and tiny her hands look against Bucky’s body … and then has to steer his mind away from the thought of how tiny they might look in other places.

“Ah, fuck,” Bucky gasps, when she reaches a certain spot on the left side of his neck.

She freezes. “Bad?” 

“Nngh. Good,” he slurs. “That whole area from there goin’ down into my back ‘n all around my shoulder blade is where it’s worst.”

“Okay.” She tentatively presses around in and around the left side of his neck and shoulder. “Oh, yeah. It starts right here and goes down.” She slides her hand down the muscle and hums. “Oh, I can feel it.”

(Steve tries really hard not to think sexual thoughts.)

“Riiight here? and … here?"

Between the cushions, Bucky’s voice comes out in a series of garbled moans.

“That’d be a yes,” Steve interprets, and Mary actually shoots him a grin at that. Glad to have cut the tension a bit, he dares to take a few steps closer to the bed. He peers down at what Mary’s doing, the way her fingers dig in at sharp, focused points in some places and rub more gently in others. “It’s your trap that’s the worst,” she mutters distractedly, feeling around with her hands and staring off into space with the tip of her tongue poking out at the corner of her mouth. It’s cute. “Mmm, but probably your levator scapulae, too. Those tend to get fucked up hand in hand.”

“Mmrr.”

“And here: your rhomboid.”

“Ooh!”

“Tender?” 

“Shuyeahhh,” Bucky grunts, then his breath hitches when she digs into another spot. “Oh, yep yep right there. Was’that?”

Steve can’t help but grin. Bucky sounds like he’s drooling at this point.

“Your trapezius muscle. It's big. Does a lot of work, covers a large area. Probably the main offender.” Mary hums and feels around a little more. “Oof, yeah. You’ve got a whole bunch of tension right here.”

“You can feel it?” Steve asks, fascinated. He can't see anything.

“Yeah. Here, gimme your hand.” Steve is taken aback when she grabs his hand and guides his fingers into place, her own smaller hand pressing down. “Riiight there. You feel it?”

Steve swallows thickly. “Ah, yeah.” His eyes flick from her hand on his hand on Bucky’s back, up to her face, and back again before she can catch him looking. “Y-yeah it’s hard.” He grimaces at his choice of words (If he's not careful, "it" soon will be).

“I’m gonna focus on this one for a few minutes,” Mary tells Bucky. Then you can guide me around to the other bad spots.”

“Sounds good,” he slurs. Steve is about to take a step back again, but then Bucky calls out, “Hey Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Pay attention to what she’s doin’. It feels really fuckin’ good.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mmhm. You can learn n' do it next time,” he says dreamily. On his back, Mary’s hands still for the briefest of seconds. “S’goood.”

Steve nods and comes back to sit on the bed. “Okay,” he agrees, scooting in close and glancing at Mary. Her face looks pinched all of a sudden, her expression stiffened as if in annoyance. “I promise I’m not as dumb as I look,” he jokes, and watches as her face smooths out and she smiles a little.

“Oh! Oh no it’s … it’s okay, I don’t mind. I’ll teach you how.”

“Don’t mind me, m’just a teaching tool,” Bucky drawls, and Steve laughs and pats his shoulder. 

“Yeah you are. So shut up and let her teach.”

Bucky grunts and shuts up. Steve looks to Mary for instruction. He can tell she’s uncomfortable, but she manages to hide it well and keep herself on track. The more he pays attention, the sooner she can get herself out of this and never have to do it again. “Ready to learn,” he tells her.

“Now when you’re doing this, you can get more leverage if you straddle his waist.” She says this like it’s a foregone assumption that she would never dare to sit on Bucky’s waist, and Steve is sure she doesn’t notice the grumpy huff of breath Bucky gives.

“Right,” Steve says, pained. “Okay, so where are the bad spots again?”

“Put your hand here.” She takes his hand again and places it just to the left of Bucky’s spine at the level of his shoulder blade. “Slide your fingers out. There. Feel that difference? Feel how it changes when you move out to just … there?” She guides his fingers, and Steve nods. 

“Y-yeah.” Mostly, he’s just thinking about how nice Mary’s warm, oiled, tiny hand feels guiding his hand around. “Yeah.”

“The trap’s on top, but there are other muscles underneath of this one, and that differentiation you feel is where the rhomboid is ending and the—”

She keeps talking, and Steve tries to pay attention and learn, he really does. But his mind is a veritable sieve, for how well he retains the information. It’s all in one ear and out the other, ninety percent of his attention stuck on Mary’s hands on him, guiding him, pressing on his fingers and gliding his touch over Bucky’s skin. Fuck, how did they wind up here? 

Eventually, having taught Steve the basics, Mary lets him go and works on Bucky’s shoulders for a little while more. For the most part it’s quiet, with Bucky making soft grunts of pain whenever she finds a new cluster of knotted muscle, and sighs of relief once she works them out. 

Her hands linger on Bucky’s mid back when she’s done. She doesn’t seem to know what to do. “Erm. Okay. I think … I think that’s it.”

When neither Bucky nor Steve says anything, she retreats on her own, getting off the bed and looking between Bucky’s prone form and Steve’s sorrowful expression. “So, kay. You can get up, if you want. Just move slowly.”

Bucky’s right hand gives her the thumbs up symbol, but the entire rest of his body doesn’t move. “Thanks Mare. Just give us a second. That was really good. Thank you. Thanks for teaching Steve.”

It’s the “Thanks for teaching Steve” that seems to do it. Mary’s expression firms up and she nods curtly, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her. Steve stays sitting on the bed next to Bucky in silence for a long minute, then says knowingly, “Got a boner?”

“Yep.”

*To anyone who's only ever had store bought, pre-packaged palmiers: I'm so sorry. Along with Madeleines, those should never be eaten more than a few hours max after they've been baked.

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[blacknedsoul-blog]

A detailed explanation from my headcanon that Annabel has ADHD

So I had this six fucking hour trip. On a bus. Alone. And I was bored out of my mind, because sitting around being bored is as close to mental torture as it gets for me.

Fortunately, the light at the end of the tunnel: I was inspired. Away from the burnout I have with fanfics, I remembered that I've mentioned this headcanon several times on Nevermore's Discord and just thought, what better time to talk about ADHD than when I'm having a pretty ADHD moment?

But before I start, there are a few little things that need to be pretty clear on the table:

I'm being a bit hypocritical here: in general, I'm deeply against diagnosing fictional characters for two reasons: first, it's an impossible task to distinguish between character traits and symptoms to such an extent that you can go around forever without coming to a real conclusion unless the author of the work confirms it, and second, even if you have the disorder you're talking about, you can fall into the trap of perpetuating stereotypes or generalizing, thereby invalidating other experiences. So even if the tone of this review sounds very assertive, it is because of my writing style. I am in no way diagnosing Annabel; this is an analysis of her character through the lens of a possible disorder.

In relation to the above, where I point out an event in the comic that can be read as a symptom, I am not reducing it to "this only happens because she has ADHD". You CAN'T reduce a person's personality to "they has a disorder," and when I point out these examples, I'm not doing so with the intention of denying the background behind it, but rather pointing out how, under the magnifying glass of having it, it might exacerbate that behavior.

I am NOT a psychologist, a psychiatrist, or a neurologist: I am a woman with ADHD. One who has done a lot of research on the subject, been in therapy with a psychologist who specializes in the disorder, and talked extensively about it both with friends who also have it and with professionals. But I don't have a career in mental health, I don't pretend to, and everything you'll read below is a mixture of research and personal experience.

You're going to see a lot of "we" or "those of us with ADHD" because, as I said, I have it too, but this is all a generalization made for the sake of flow. The symptoms of this disorder can be expressed in many different ways, and not everyone has all of them (for example, there are some that I don't have, but it would be strange to change the voice of the text just because of that, it makes it harder to read). If you have ADHD and read a symptom and think "hey, I don't get that", that's perfectly normal. Your experience is valid and I don't want to pass it on. But it would be exhausting for me and for the reader to use tentative phrases all the time.

If this text resonates too much with you, I strongly recommend that you see a professional, if you're able, and not self-diagnose: ADHD has many symptoms in common with autism and other neuro divergences, don't risk misdiagnosis.

If you have a different opinion than mine on this subject and want to share it with me, I'll be happy to read it, if I don't answer it's because I forgot (forgive me?). But you can be sure that I will read it.

Anyway, let's get started.

What is ADHD?

According to the NIH (National Institute of Mental Health) website, this is the definition of ADHD:

Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) is marked by an ongoing pattern of inattention and/or hyperactivity-impulsivity that interferes with functioning or development. People with ADHD experience an ongoing pattern of the following types of symptoms:

Inattention means a person may have difficulty staying on task, sustaining focus, and staying organized, and these problems are not due to defiance or lack of comprehension.

Hyperactivity means a person may seem to move about constantly, including in situations when it is not appropriate, or excessively fidgets, taps, or talks. In adults, hyperactivity may mean extreme restlessness or talking too much.

Impulsivity means a person may act without thinking or have difficulty with self-control. Impulsivity could also include a desire for immediate rewards or the inability to delay gratification. An impulsive person may interrupt others or make important decisions without considering long-term consequences.

Here is an impression that needs to be clarified: ADHD is more about an inability to regulate attention than a lack of it. A neurotypical person may choose to focus on a task to get it done, we may procrastinate to death because even if we want to, we can't focus on it, or stand there absorbed in it ad infinitum until the house falls down around us (and we may still have trouble noticing). This is understood, Understanding all this, here is the list of Annabel's behaviors that could be interpreted as symptoms.

Hyperactivity

One thing that not everyone knows is that hyperactivity is not about running around like an uncontrolled animal. It can manifest itself in many ways, and there are many types: physical, mental, and even emotional.

In Annabel's case, she seems to be the first two types.

Perhaps due to her difficulty in expressing emotions, it is quite obvious at this point in the comic that her moods are made explicit through gestures: playing with her rings when she is happy or nervous, touching the ribbon around her neck in moments of anxiety, or playing with her hair almost as a default state.

Annabel.

Doesn't.

Sit.

Still.

Never.

It is also clear that Annabel is always planning something. Always.

This can be read into the logic of mental hyperactivity: when you have it, your brain just doesn't stop. Ever. And that's something that resonates with this lady.

Emotional Dysregulation

The part of the brain that regulates our moods works…erratically. Not to say it doesn't work at all.

This leads to a painfully common problem in women with ADHD: lack of emotional regulation is seen as drama, and instead of being taught tools to deal with it, we are taught to repress and bottle up emotions.

Annabel has highly internalized this as a defense mechanism. But here's the thing: if repressing emotions instead of learning how to deal with them in a healthy way is harmful, being biologically unable to regulate them can be even worse.

It touches the right nerves, and if you catch us flying low, it can cause explosive outbursts.

Possibly violent reactions to feeling offended or uncomfortable.

Or completely over-the-top reactions that we can't control.

And it's not just anger that's affected, it's the whole emotional spectrum. Another emotion that is very noticeable is fear. If we don't develop tools to help us calm down, we don't get scared, we panic.

If this happens too often, we can become prone to developing severe anxiety or frequent attacks.

We may also have great difficulty dealing with frustration. Our brains love rewards, and feeling that we're not getting them because of our own inability to do something can be downright annoying. And if we don't have the tools to express our frustration appropriately, we can have quite childish reactions, ranging from temper tantrums to…pouting.

I find it funny how several of these pouts are caused by Lenore, a bit like "Oh, come on, honey, what are we talking about?"

Another important thing to note here is that one of the most fucked up and notorious symptoms of this lack of emotional regulation is RSD, short for Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, defined as "a problem that interferes with your ability to regulate your emotional responses to feelings of failure and rejection. While rejection is almost always unpleasant, people with RSD experience overwhelming levels of emotional pain. This can lead to long-term mental health problems, fear of failure, and behavioral changes that negatively affect them throughout their lives."

Rejection and fear of failure are a problem for us. So much so that we may seek strategies to avoid it as much as possible, even when it causes us problems (such as not completing a task for fear of doing it wrong). This is an issue that can tear us apart emotionally.

Annabel is terrified of being rejected or despised. Her whole life has been built around appearances and getting the right people interested in her. If she can't do that, what good is she?

And that's something that comes up a lot in her relationship with Lenore. Repeatedly, in fact, but my favorite has to be this one:

Annabel thought it would be the smart thing to do to break that bond because she knows they're never going to see each other again. But the look on her face when Lenore calls her a "damn liar" is just painful to watch. I think ripping her heart out with a rusty spoon would have hurt less.

Finally, on the subject of things that aren't so funny: that thing Annabel does about biting her fingers when she's in a critical situation is something I used to do, too (only I'd bite my knuckles or palms).

My psychologist explained to me that when you feel like you're losing control, you immediately look for something to ground you, and unfortunately, physical pain is often a quick (if damaging) way to do that.

Codependency

Okay, here's a thing: it's not that we have a tendency as such to codependency, but this is a situation that can occur due to bad practices within a relationship. Especially a couple one.

As it stands out, people with ADHD can have a lot of problems with micromanaging ourselves, remembering things, dealing with our emotions, etc, etc, etc. And it is natural for close friends, family or our partner to help in those processes.

The problem arises when that help starts to become a parentification process where the partner who is providing support starts to do this on behalf of the other person, infantilizing them in the process.

This is a cocktail for resentment on both sides: the party calling the shots can easily feel that the other is putting a huge burden on their shoulders and not trying hard enough, while, on the other side, no one likes to feel like they are being treated like a child. Let alone that the person doing it is your partner.

But at the other end of resentment, there's codependency.

The constant feeling that you are a burden, insufficient or even disposable.

And that means you have a lot to make up for. On a regular basis. So much that you put yourself in a situation where you have to make horrible decisions so that someone else doesn't have to because somehow you owe it to them, who hasn't had that happen?

What I mean is that yes, Annabel feels like she owes this to Lenore because she only remembers the part where Lenore came kicking in doors to save her from a marriage she didn't want. And if she can't do this for her, she doesn't deserve a relationship.

Feeling inadequate, that your partner is doing you some kind of favor by tolerating you and ending up idealizing their in the process is obviously not unique to the neurodivergent experience.

But we try, we try really hard and, like anyone else, we like to feel that the effort we put in is seen and valued.

If we are not careful about that, we do indeed fall into the risk of becoming codependent. The desire to feel loved or valued becomes a constant hunger for validation from which it is difficult to escape because we are aware that our brain will never function in a different way. And if that is mixed with RSD, it can become an even bigger problem.

Novelty, games, challenges, and rewards

Producing dopamine on a normal basis is one thing our brains aren't very good at (one of the reasons we can be prone to depression, for example), but you know what they love? Challenges and rewards.

New things feed our endless curiosity, but for some reason unknown to me, our brains really love challenges and dares. They give us dopamine like we're on a high.

So much so that some people use it as a tactic to perform tasks they don't like: "How many dishes can I wash before my dinner is ready?", "If I can finish this in less than 30 minutes, I can go get chocolate."

One medium we may like very much for this reason is games. Board games, card games, or virtual games. It doesn't matter. Games provide a very good balance of challenge and reward.

If you see that Annabel seems overly interested in how this works, it's because there may be a part of her that thinks "aside from the deadly situation we're in…this is like the most hardcore escape room ever" and inevitably there's something here that stirs her bug.

It may be something she loves about Lenore. As a good hypocrite, Annabel despises the rules she knows so well, so when Lenore comes along with this gimmick and completely changes the paradigm of what she knows, there is inevitably something that appeals to her. Others who are good at the game look down on Lenore's disdain for the rules, to Annabel it is fucking appealing because it offers a range of unexplored possibilities that she fucking loves.

Erratic Communication

When our brains are running at full speed, communication can become a challenge, and we tend to exhibit erratic patterns.

One of these is info-dumping. Touch a topic we know about or are interested in and it's like stepping on a landmine: we explode talking about it. Non-stop. You'll have to hit us to shut us up.

Another thing is that we can have a bad habit of interrupting. A lot. It's not malicious, it's just that we're really into the conversation and want to participate as much as possible.

That said, even if we're extroverts, it can be a nightmare to withhold information or participate in a conversation if it doesn't grab our attention. It's not that we want to be disrespectful or anything, it's just that, again, we have no control over our ability to pay attention and we're swimming against the tide to hold on to whatever it is you're telling us.

This scene is something I've seen in friends with ADHD and have been told I do: stare at people while doing your best to do the hamster run to remember what they're telling you because you know it's important, even though your brain is putting it together with junk information because it's not engaging your attention in the right way.

Ignore the murderous stare part, it's not that common - at least I hope not.

Drinks that are like a pill

Our brains are not designed to produce certain hormones naturally or, in some cases, they produce them under other circumstances. For things like that, we can take pills, develop strategies to help our brains produce hormones.

And drink coffee. Lots of coffee.

Caffeine can be extremely relaxing for us because it can actually help our brains keep functioning, you know that stereotype of the highly coded ADHD character who drinks coffee like it's his life? Well, that's because.

You know what other beverage has a similar effect? Tea. Theine is also a natural activator, perhaps less aggressive than coffee, but it can have a similar effect.

If you're interested in describing this topic in fanfic or touching on it in fanart, tea should have a relaxing effect on Annabel and even help her concentrate.

Boredom

We get bored. A lot. And we get painfully bored. Here's what happens: boredom is caused by a lack of stimulation, and our brains aren't stimulated just because we can't regulate our attention to seek out that stimulation.

Add to that the fact that when we are bored, without dopamine hitting our receptors, our executive functions diminish and we function like shit.

Boredom

Is

Fucking

Murder

Because our brain starts desperately asking for dopamine and we can fall into really unhealthy behaviors like fighting, being chronically online, or eating because we can't find anything better to do. This also contributes -again- to our depression or anxiety.

Conclusions (and if I don't make the joke, I'll die)

In the book ADHD After Dark (a study of ADHD, relationships, and physical intimacy), Ari Tuckman draws some interesting conclusions, one of which is that on a statistical level, people with ADHD seem to be more likely to have what he calls "sexual eagerness": kinks, fetishes, a tendency to be adventurous in bed, and the like. Again, our brains love play, and both intimacy and flirtation can involve a lot of it.

So…

Um…

…well, I think Lenore will be happy. Good for her.

Anyway, this has been a seriously long explanation. Thanks for reading this far.

[particular-one]

my heart won’t start anymore.

pairing. dan heng x gn!reader cw. hurt/no comfort, implied relationship between reader and dan heng, falling out of love (or is it), heavy angst that is carlyle's brand™ author's note. i say i love dan heng then subject him to my heaviest angst ideas. teehee, whoops. is anyone still surprised that i wrote yet another fic to a taylor swift song? listen to you're losing me for maximum enjoyment. ❤️‍🩹

dan heng would have to be the luckiest man alive to have known someone like you and simultaneously, the most foolish man alive to let you slip through his fingers.

dan heng did not know where to begin when it came to describing you. to merely think he was lucky enough to call someone like you his was an understatement; you were perfect for him in every way possible, that it baffles him just how he's with you.

the way your eyes sparkled at the mention of stars, your favorite subject, before dan heng listened for the millionth time to your lighthearted ramble of where the stars came from. the way your laugh echoed melodiously in his head when he made a small but harmless mistake, how he would frown a little in shame but your toothy grin would make him forget his initial embarrassment. the way your head rested on his chest, humming to a childhood lullaby that would always have the same effect on his heart — to grow bigger in affection and adoration for you.

and you made him a better person, better than he ever thought he could be. dan heng had always carried the burden of his past reincarnation's sins on his back, but your presence always made the weight seem lighter. a glimpse of you was a glimpse of a life that he could live without guilt. and he wanted to make sure that he was worthy of it. worthy of you.

in short, dan heng found the perfect lifelong partner in you, end of story.

which ... just made your words pierce deeper than a knife to his heart.

"i think we should stop."

dan heng was too deep in his thoughts that he had not realized that he crumpled the paper flower bouquet in his hand. he was supposed to hand this to you the moment he stepped inside your room; march had teased him on the amount of dedication he put in perfecting his craft — according to the archives he has read, they called it the art of origami — but dan heng found himself smiling the entire process. secretly, he thought of it like his practice of building a life with you; handling the paper with subtle gentleness and care, folding it neatly to avoid any creases, before constructing a foundation for the camellia flower, your favorite flower.

what a joke this all seems to be now.

what was going on? where did he do wrong? why were you doing this? dan heng tried to remember if he had forgotten anything important. was it the time that he brushed you aside because he was engrossed in the mission? was it because dan heng constantly locked himself in the archives all by himself, that you grew tired of that?

".... stop what?"

you looked up at him, your stormy eyes brimming with tears that you were still trying to hold back. even when you were crying and breaking his heart, dan heng could not help but think how captivating you still looked. "you know what i mean."

why? "why?"

from his perspective, he could already see how much you were struggling to say it. you were shaking your head as your body was trying to hold in the biggest sob. it took everything in dan heng not to run to you and hold you in his arms, but what are the chances that you'd end up pushing him away? your words were evidence enough that you did not need his grasp right now.

"i just... i just don't see a future with you in it."

well, that hurt. that hurt more than the days that his other self wasted away in the shackling prison, mind swimming in terror and confusion as to why he was restrained the moment he was born. that hurt more than the time he sustained his deepest injury, because you were the one who ended up patching it up for him, all the while chastising him for being too reckless again. he won't have that anymore.

"why?" it was a repeat of his former question, but dan heng could hear his voice breaking as he repeated himself. moments ago, he was just dreaming about spending the rest of his life with you. to be able to wake up with you next to him and be the first to see the satisfied smile on your face. to stay by your side until the day you inevitably passed on before him.

and now, you were asking him to let that all go?

despite his initial reflections, dan heng took a step towards you, to which he was greeted with you stepping backwards, a sight that sank his heart even deeper. "but i love you." dan heng started, his heart soaring when he saw that his words still elicited a reaction from you. at this point, he was just grasping at non-existent straws that would bring you back to your senses. back to him. "we can figure a way—"

"dan heng." he stopped at his name, before slowly looking up to meet your gaze. your eyes were clouded with pain, sorrow, but most importantly, it was devoid of the warmth that dan heng sought solace in.

"i... i don't know if i can do this anymore."

you were no longer facing him, your back shaking in muffled sobs as dan heng stood there, as he watched you push him away for the first and last time. the feeling of the crumpled paper flower on his palm left nothing but a sour taste in his mouth. to think that he was so excited to see you.

"you're giving up then? on us?"

his voice came out hollow, his once forlorn expression twisting in incredulity and subtle frustration. to think that he was so excited to make things finally official between the both of you. he was finally ready to settle down and become the better man— no, the best man for you. could you not see how hard he worked to deserve you?

how cruel were you, really?

you didn't turn around to face him, but your silence told him everything he needed to know. it took everything in him to stifle the urge to let out a bitter laugh. how could he be so foolish? who would love someone as stoic, risk-taking and tactless as him, anyways?

"i didn't take you for a quitter, y/n. but i guess we're learning something new about each other right now." he spat out, which earned a turn from you. dan heng could see the hurt in your eyes. it annoyed him that even when you're hurting him, it still pained him to see you in distress. it took everything in him to reel back and stop himself. "so this is it; this is how all... this ends." he refused to let this flurry of emotions overwhelm him, as dan heng took one step closer towards you, and to his surprise, you stood, feet firmly planted on the ground. well, what does that matter now.

he was now towering over you, his eyes never leaving your figure and now was looking down at you. a part of him begged him to not say anything else, to leave with his dignity and his head up high. even if they weren't ... partners anymore, he could still try salvaging a friendship. and yet, his emotions took full control of himself at that moment. "i can't believe i even thought you were the one for me, but i guess i would probably outlive you, anyways. "

he could have sworn he heard your breath hitch as your eyes betrayed everything you were feeling at the time. a mix of grief, sadness and surprise at his words, no doubt. however, it was a fleeting sight that only slipped into another unreadable expression. "leave. please... just leave."

typically, dan heng would be able to tolerate the silence between the both of you, but that was because he could lose himself in your gaze. not now, though. his hand crumpled the paper flower even further before he threw it at the ground. dan heng took one last look at you, a small hope resurfacing that you would take everything back, that you were simply saying it in jest — but there was nothing.

he allowed his anger to overtake him and close the door behind him with a loud slam, huffing in mixed grief and anger and leaving your room for the last time. even when you were no longer looking, dan heng still refused to let that flurry of emotions overwhelm him. he shouldn't cry over someone who gave up on him as easily as that.

if he had lingered for a moment longer, he would have probably heard you breaking down in the loudest sobs on the other side of the door.

━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

it had been three months since you left the astral express. three months since dan heng closed the door to the possibility that he would spend the rest of his long, long life with you.

three months since he hurled all those hurtful words towards you, which he has regretted since then. but his stupid ego would not let him utter a single apology to you the following morning.

it didn't take long for you to pack your bags and leave, which dan heng actually found relieving. the more he didn't see you and mourn over what could have been, the better.

still, it had been three months. dan heng would be a liar if he said that you did not cross his mind once. well, maybe more than once. maybe a million times since you left. he hated how you still had a hold on him, hated how your voice would be the last thing he's reminded of before he drifts to sleep, but most of all, he hated how he missed you since that fateful night.

how could he have missed the signs?

the tug on his sleeve brought him back to reality, as march looked over at him with a concerned glance. dan heng just shook his head and looked down at the very thing he was holding.

a bouquet of camellias. real ones, this time.

"dan heng, if you're feeling overwhelmed, we can just—" he was already walking ahead of march without listening to what else she had to say. truthfully, nothing she would probably say would deter him. the cold weather of jarilo vi was enough to drone out his ever active mind. so this was the planet that you called home after you left the express.

it did not take long for him to reach his destination, especially with how fast he had been walking. dan heng could barely even see the identifiable pink hair belonging to march behind him anymore. he'd probably have to offer her an apology for leaving her behind later.

it was a desolate deserted place, save for the monsters that roamed nearby and the dilapidated house that dan heng could only surmise as your house. though, he knew already what he was looking for.

"hey, y/n. i know you probably don't want to see me again, but ... here are your favorite flowers, just how you liked them."

to find himself face to face to a makeshift tombstone wasn't a sight that dan heng could have ever prepared himself for, but the fact that it was your tombstone that he was leaving flowers for made his last words towards you sink a knife deeper in his heart.

how could he not have noticed your erratic heartbeat?

when you told him that you couldn’t see a future with him in it, he didn’t think that you meant you did not have a future.

all those months, dan heng refused to let the flurry of emotions overwhelm him, but maybe for this time, he could just blame the emotional downpour on the bleak cold weather.

"if you had told me you were dying, i would have stayed."

written by carlyle (@particular-one) copyright: all content belongs to particular-one on tumblr (2023)

[sarucane]

Why was finding Stede's letter so important for Ed?

Real talk, I adore the season 2 finale and to me the rush is worth it to have a safe ending place. But this episode is so overpacked, and Ed goes through such an incredible character arc and I love it, so here goes my rant on why he burst into tears and screamed at the forest when he read Stede's letter.

Ed is all goddamn over the place in the first part of this episode, tossed about by his insecurity and baffled by what is safe and what is unsafe. He has a voiceover about how amazing being a fisherman is, then ends up regressing into childhood trauma when another father figure freaks out over dinner. Ed doesn't even choose to leave the fisherman fantasy: the fantasy gets shattered and he gets fired in a high-speed parallel of Stede trying to go home (return to a safe, simple life) and finding he doesn't belong there in S1E10. At least Ed does manage to not drown in self-hatred on the way out.

And then Ed returns to the pirate safe space, only to find that it's been invaded and taken over. And that his selfishness, the low self-esteem that distorted his view of reality and his relationship, may have had real consequences for someone he loves (another parallel with Stede, this time early season 2). Ed may have been off pretending to be a "dirty old fisherman" while Stede died.

What was safe is now unsafe. All Ed has left is himself--so he really looks at himself.

At the fact that the kraken is always there, no matter what clothes he wears or how deeply he tries to bury it. He can fight that and run from it, and end up losing everything. Or he can embrace it, and figure out what comes next. Be what he was made by his past, however dark that past was.

But Ed's past wasn't all darkness. Ed walks onto the beach and gets a letter from the past, and suddenly there is something safe again in his world. Something worth killing for.

Ed first started falling for Stede through the stories Stede built around himself, stories formed by boastful encounters with Izzy, muttered hallucinations, and trinkets decking his ship. Back then, Ed didn't believe he himself was a good person, didn't believe he could have friends. But Stede told him stories about friendship and treasure maps, and Ed took these to heart and told stories to match, and Ed found truth through the fiction.

Then Stede left, and those stories fell away for Ed. Ed embraced the story of the kraken, of Blackbeard. Instead of a story about love or survival, he wrote a story about an impossible bird, a raiding record, and a treacherous crew--and mourned a story about lost love.

But Stede kept writing stories. He poured himself into his letters, poured his heart into sustaining his connection to Ed in spite of all the obstacles.

Ed didn't believe in this story after Stede came back, even though he wanted to. He kept emotional distance from Stede, avoided risks, and bailed after two days. Because Ed didn't trust that their bond was solid, that their story was something that could survive Ed's darkness, insecurities, and damage. Didn't trust that what Stede said this time, he had truly thought about, and meant with all his heart.

Stede didn't get how insecure Ed was in all this, because Stede was just so sure of Ed, and of their love. Stede believed in his story with his whole soul, and Stede's stories have a way of creating reality--after all, the whole crew of the Revenge became "real boys." But he couldn't figure out how to communicate this to Ed, to let Ed believe it too.

And then, at a moment where his identity is fractured and re-forming, Ed finds this letter. And just like that, there's a solid ground of story beneath his feet.

Because there was, in fact, solid ground beneath his feet all along.

Ed's and Stede's relationship, like all relationships, is hard. But they formed a real bond of love in season 1, and like Mary Bonnet said, being in love is easy. Ed can trust it--like he did before, but for real this time.

Ed's figuring this out ruddy late. He and Stede didn't communicate these things to each other when they had the chance, and now the chance may have slipped away. So now, Ed yells his feelings at the world and runs off to try to find his person.

When Ed finds Stede again, he doesn't hold back anything. He doesn't hesitate to kill, and he doesn't hesitate to drop his sword when he reaches Stede. They're finally face to face, in every way. Finally balanced, and seeing each other clearly, and able to communicate.

And, for the first time since he and Stede reached each other this season--for the first time since his vision in the Gravy Basket really--Ed is utterly vulnerable.

And entirely safe.

[thelarriefics]

UNIVERSITY FIC REC, Part II: Below you will find more fics that take place in college. (Part I)

📖 Underneath It All by @peachypetalhazz (394k)

Enemies to friends to lovers AU where Louis is a cliché bad boy that Harry can’t seem to get rid of.

📖 there's no fair in farewell by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (218k)

When Harry and Louis, two Cupids who have been bringing people together for decades, are tasked with making Soulmates Liam and Zayn fall in love, it proves to be much harder than expected. But maybe, just maybe, that isn’t such a bad thing after all.

📖 blue moon by @aquietlarrie (152k)

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

📖 Never Be by @cherrystreet (117k)

The one where Harry Styles moves to Connecticut from England for nine months as a part of a study abroad program, and he just so happens to move in with Louis Tomlinson and family.

📖 Pour Your Heart Out by @hrrytomlinson (92k)

Louis is his soulmate. Or at least Harry thinks he is. Louis feels the same as Louis. But there are a lot of people named Louis in the world and this Louis might not be the Louis. It’s besides the point though, because Harry knows he can’t allow himself to get close to any boys. He just can’t and he’s told himself this multiple times. He has to simply stay away from Louis Tomlinson. But he can’t. Harry Styles can never stay away from Louis Tomlinson. It’s physically impossible for him to.

📖 knock knock, i love you by @thelovejandles (86k)

Harry and Louis get kicked out of a statistics exam for passing a knock knock joke note, and subsequently fall in love. Harry's a virgin, there's a cat, a hot cocoa date, a lot of sex, even more knock knock jokes, and everything is lovely and happy.

📖 Are There Second Chances? by @kissyboystyles (85k)

the most eventful twenty-four days of Louis Tomlinson's college career.

📖 A Distant Hazy Light by @greenfeelings (76k)

Life’s pretty ordinary for Harry. He lives with his best friend, got into university just like he’s planned, and manages to support himself just fine for an unbonded omega. If he sustains that lifestyle by getting paid to help alphas through their rut every now and then, that’s nothing to be hung up on. Until he’s hired by an alpha that turns everything upside down. Or, Harry’s working on taking Louis’ walls down, until he builds his own up.

📖 Bikestrike by @thinlinez (68k)

What would you do if you saw someone riding your bike, which had been stolen weeks before, across campus? Omega Harry chose to show no mercy. He didn't know it would all lead him to his own demise.

📖 always you (i should have known) by @28goldens (60k)

or the one where harry and louis cant stand each other and fake date to make someone jealous.

📖 Start A Revolution From My Bed. by @rainbowsandlovehl (57k)

Louis is ready to live on his own, in a dorm, in a new city. He is ready to make new friends, have fun and study a little. But he is not ready for Harry, his pretentious roommate who is out to ruin Louis' sleep and make his dorm life a complete hell.

📖 Love's On The Line, Is That Your Final Answer? by @moonhusbands (54k)

Harry can’t believe it when Louis, the boy he’s always had a tempestuous rivalry with, asks him to be his boyfriend. Well, pose as his boyfriend, that is—for a new television game show in which young couples are quizzed on how well they know each other for a jackpot of thirty grand. Reluctantly, Harry agrees—because he's got student loans to pay off, hasn't he? What's the harm? And he can totally deal with keeping his secret thing for Louis under wraps too. This is all just to win some money. It's fine. No big deal. What could possibly go wrong? Well, everything. Obviously.

📖 The First Year by @parmahamlarrie (46k)

When Louis Tomlinson was assigned a first year student to be his roommate for his final year at the University of Manchester, his expectations were low. All he needed was a cheap place to sleep and keep his stuff amidst his nights out, willing his brain to forget his past. He never expected Harry Styles to become his eclectic, sweet, and cuddly best friend. That was never the plan.

📖 your lips in the low light by @givesuethemoon (20k)

Set over the course of one night, at one fateful frat party. Louis and Harry find that there are not many things they will ever need more than each other.

📖 getting yourself wet for me by @dreamersdivin-headfirst (10k)

frat boys take on watersports

📖 my heart's against your chest, your lips pressed to my neck (i'm in love now) by @bottomhaztoplou (8k)

Five times Louis gives Harry a courting gift and one time Harry reciprocates.

📖 Hea(van) Is A Place on Earth with You by @insightfulinsomniac (6k)

University students Harry and Louis want to spend some alone time together — the problem is, both of their respective roommates are fast asleep. Harry solves that problem with some blankets, a secluded parking space, and his beloved beater van, Belinda.

📖 Lost In This Craze For You by @larrysballetslippers (4k)

Louis thinks he is incapable of making his boyfriend come, but Harry just needs a little more from him.

[bellafragolina]

hi i've never requested anything from anyone ever before so here goes lmao 😭 uhh i've had this stupid little idea for like a week now: motostoke gym trainer reader calls kabu dad on accident. like goes to ask him something and just says "hey dad?" then gets embarrassed and walks away. "nevermind i figured it out myself" no you didn't you liar

uhhh yeah that's it here's payment🍪 cooky

cooky……..

🍓🍓🍓

You were the youngest on the team, that much was obvious. It was hard not to dote, but you would pout and huff and grumble about being treated like a kid, even though you were one. But you were also a gym leader, just like them, able to hold your own even again the more experienced trainers.

Kabu had no doubts you’d grow up into something fierce, even with a primarily fire type team. But he also worried.

It wasn’t as obvious, but you lived for the gym. Sure, you huffed and puffed at the affection and doting, but you never walked away from it.

Kabu knew you craved it, deep down. Despite trying to grow up fast, be independent, be more than what you lacked, he knew you desperately wanted family again. And here you were finding it.

But you’d die before admitting it. A child’s pride was something to be admired, for its steady determination not to break. At the time same time, however, Kabu wished you’d relax, let them take care of you.

You deserved to be a kid, void of weight of the world, if just for a little while. Kabu would hold up the sky for you, if only you’d let him.

But you didn’t. You were his little Atlas, strong and steady, at least on the outside.

For all your pronounced independence, you were still young and inexperienced. The world was still confusing and complicated despite your self sustaining abilities, and when you came to the team, they jumped to help you understand the forms of a gym leader, the conduct to have towards fans and reporters alike, how to deal with sore losers versus disheartened ones.

How to lean on someone when everything becomes too much too fast.

"Hey, um. . ." Your voice drew Kabu from his thoughts. He blinked, watching you shuffle around at the door of his office. "Uh. . ."

Kabu felt his heart grow warm as you struggled to find your words. 'Yes, firefly?"

You huffed. "Dad, do you-"

Your throat seemed to close around your words when Kabu's eyes widened. Everything froze, from his heart to your fidgeting. Kabu wondered, did he hear you right? Did you really see him that way?

"Never mind." You squeaked out before he could even smile. Seemed that flub stole all the air from your lungs. "I figured it out. Bye."

"Hold on!" Kabu called, but you were booking it. Kabu had to run to catch you before you disappeared off into the gym, but he managed to snag your arm before you even made it out of the office area. "Hey, hey-"

Kabu's own voice failed him when he saw your face. Your eyes were glassy, cracking with tears that dripped down your ruddy cheeks. Your shoulders jumped with gasps for air, but you were trying so hard to keep it contained that you were suffocating yourself.

Kabu pulled you into his chest, arms tight. "C'mon, firefly, breathe. Just breathe." You struggled to inhale, choking on a sob. "Shh, shh, you're okay-"

"M'not." You whined.

"Why? Cause you called me your dad?" The weak joke did not land, judging by your increased sobbing, so Kabu was quick to continue. "Everyone has done it, not just you." You buried your face in the crook of your arm to hide it. "And I am honored you think of me like a father."

That gave you pause. "Huh. . ?"

"You've been alone for so long." Kabu carefully brushed back your hair. His thumbs, so calloused and warm, stroked your cheek to clear the sticky tears. "Won't you lean on me?"

You leaned into him more. You were weighed down into his arms, but Kabu easily held you.

He'd hold you until it all felt a little lighter.

🍓🍓🍓

hope you like it!!!

~Renee

[bunnypansy]

NSFW Alphabet: Rook Hunt!

Rated R for EXPLICIT CONTENT!

A short (hm.) script covering the ABCs of Rook's sex life!

Featuring: Rook Hunt, and you!

Beware! This film contains: gender neutral reader, knife play, blood play, sounding, somnophilia, predator/prey dynamics, voyeurism, exhibitionism, nudes, sex tapes, mirror sex, marking, dacryphilia, praise, body worship, masochism, overstimulation, bondage, impact play, guided masturbation, mutual masturbation, cucking (yeah), dick piercings, outdoor sex, public sex, stalking, face sitting, nipple play

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

You will NEVER catch a member of Pomefiore lackin when it comes to aftercare. No one is better at pillow talk than Rook Hunt. Too good. Make him stop talking. Seriously, this guy starts talking after you finish and doesn't stop until you fall asleep. Mostly about how well you did, how beautiful you are, certain things you did that he particularly liked. Rook doesn't like baths, so he'll give you a shower instead, but he's still going to pamper you. You won't have to lift a single finger- frankly he won't let you. After a soothing shower that he used as an excuse to worship your body, he'll place you in front of a vanity and tend to you like you're a delicate doll. A hand tucked beneath your knee as he lifts your leg, fingers smoothing over your thigh as he rubs a sweet-scented lotion into your skin, his mutterings becoming muffled through your sleepy haze.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For Rook to pick a single part of you he loves the most of an impossible task, this boy could go on and on and on about every part of your body down to your fingernails…however…. It's your eyes, definitely. He takes pleasure in seeing every micro expression you make, and your eyes just give it away. Definitely enjoys heavy eye contact during sex.

Rook’s favorite part of himself? Elementary, Watson, it’s his shoulders. Why, you ask? Well for one, his shoulders are very broad and well defined (catch me pushing my dorito-Rook agenda) from all the archery, and they’re still dotted with freckles from all his time in the sun, so he appreciates them aesthetically. However, much more important is the scratches you leave on them; red, raised, sometimes bleeding, nothing pleases him more than the physical evidence of your pleasure on his body.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

So… if you guys know anything about the semen and diet connection, you probably know that a high protein diet results in a very salty and sometimes uh… nasty flavor. We know Rook does a lot of exercise, and protein is a necessary component for building muscle so the first time you swallow for him it's a pretty gross experience. However, with a sustained relationship, Rook will happily change his diet for you so his cum has a bit more of a neutral taste. In terms of texture, he remains well hydrated so it's a bit syrupy and has a nice slightly off-white color. Rook likes cumming both in and on you, so every time you fuck, you are sure to end up with cum dripping from your hole and stuck to your face by the end of the night.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He desperately wants to let a couple other men have their way with you and photograph the whole thing. Rook has always enjoyed watching you masturbate, nearly as much as he enjoys bringing you pleasure, this is simply a natural progression of those desires. Ideally, there'd be If he could truly have his way, he'd film everything, then make you watch it back while he fucks you; the whole time commenting on little things you do that drive him crazy and attempting to recreate what happened in the video. Honestly, Rook is so up front about what he wants that is hardly a secret

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

His experience is middling. I believe Rook has probably had 3-4 relationships, but none of them lasted longer than a year (he was a bit too obsessive and his partners were put off). He's fairly experienced, but also knows that it's important to learn the intricacies of every person he's with, and not everything he knows will work instantly. Rook will approach every session like a learning experience, exploring new places and techniques to make sure he can find all the little spots that drive you crazy- and once he does, God knows he's going to abuse the fuck outta them. Also his first time was in the woods, thanks

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Before I start, I'm drawing a firm line; Rook Hunt does not like doggy style- or anything where he can't see your face! He firmly believes that any position where he can't see your beauty is a waste of his time. So of course he likes missionary and the mating press, but his real favorites require some extra supplies. Namely a mirror. If Rook is feeling rough, he'll shove you right up against the mirror and take you from behind; but usually he prefers to have you settled on his lap, one arm hooked beneath your leg to lift it up to your shoulder as he fucks you. He likes having the free hand to tease you with (:

Now, I know everybody likes big dom Rook but he's a switch okay guys. The seeing your face rule sticks for even when he bottoms, he needs to see you constantly. Honestly missionary has to take number one for him, but he's also real fond of being tied to the bed, it gives him no choice but to admire you as you work.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Usually if there's laughter in the bedroom, it's just Rook teasing you a bit, but that doesn't mean he's no fun! Having a partner you can laugh with is valuable to Rook, so if something happens while you're fucking it out, he won't be afraid to giggle a little, maybe poke a bit of fun at you, then rather easily slip right back into sexy times.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He's part of Pomefiore, did you think this man was anything but well-shaved? Frankly, his pubic hair is beautiful, somehow princely?? It's fine and light, but very soft and incredibly well trimmed- not to mention always clean, and never smells like ball sweat. He can't manage to grow a happy trail, just a tiny little path that starts beneath the waistband of his pants and ends in a small tuft at the base of his dick. Otherwise, he's completely shaved down there, smooth balls and not even ass hair.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Painfully so. Rook will be intimate with whomever he chooses to bed, fuck buddies, one night stand or long term lover, it’s just in his nature. He has a knack for making your feel like the most gorgeous, lovable person on the planet while you two have sex- it’s something in the way he holds you, unabashedly keeping his eyes on your face the entire time he presses kisses against your neck between proclamations of your beauty, checking in and focusing wholly on how you feel. Your pleasure is his, afterall. Never, not even once, will you get the impression that Rook isn’t madly in love with you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

A lot. Once a day, maybe more, if we're all honest with ourselves. Rook is a man who loves indulging his senses- He's got a high libido and he uses his own orgasm as an energy boost, which is enough to make a horny man, but he's also incredibly easy to rile up. He fully indulges the pleasure of masturbation, his favorite places to do so being your bed and outside. Rook really draws out the process; starting with gloves on, letting the leather get slick from his own precum as he slowly strokes up and down the length, squeezing around the tip just for a bit of extra pressure. Eventually, he'll pull the glove off and touch himself a bit more fervently, by now he's getting noisier, letting slip soft calls of your name, whimpering as he rocks his hips into his hand. Rook only whacks it while thinking about or looking at pictures of you, after all, you're the most beautiful thing in the world, what else would he touch himself to?

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks):

Voyeurism: I think we could all see this coming. The stalker, a voyeur?! Shocking. He prefers when you don't know he's watching you (he'll receive consent beforehand don't worry boo-boo), something about the thrill of getting caught makes blood rush to his dick. Please let him take photos though

Photography/filming: Master of the nude.Sending you nudes, receiving nudes, whatever it is, Rook likes it. Rook’s nudes are downright artful. The lighting and angles are always perfect, even at night, and he never fails to look beautiful. Rook is the king of the post work-out gym bathroom photo; standing before the mirror with the hem of his shirt between his teeth. He likes to record when he's fucking you too, just so he can watch it throughout his day as a sort of pick me up. He's also fond of some good photos after sex when you're an absolute mess, expect for him to gush over them in your presence

Exhibitionism: this goes well with the voyeurism kink, one of his greatest fantasies would be watching you have sex with another person, then get caught jerking off to you two

Mirror sex: Tenfold if you're self-conscious, he makes your anxiety his pet project. To Rook Hunt, there is nothing sexier than sitting you in lap, legs spread, forced to watch yourself while he fucks you to stupidity. Not to mention, he gets the best view of your body.

Marking: Take a shot every time you read beautiful- but really, he thinks you look beautiful covered in little rose and violet hickies. A painting of his conception, an empty canvas covered in his marks. If you cover them with makeup he'll sneakily wipe it away every time you see each other that day.

Dacryphilia: there's nothing that makes his pride swell more than bringing you to pleasured tears. Of course, Rook isn't the type to enjoy your pain, he'll never want to see you cry because you're scared or hurt, but if it's because you're overwhelmed? Then he's happy to make you cry even harder.

Praise: Again, a guy who cannot stop talking, specifically about you. It's even worse if you're self-conscious; he'll make you sit in front of a mirror, on his lap and guide you through every part of your body and why he loves it, and you. Oh and of course Rook does the standard encouragement. Murmuring sweet things as he slowly pushes into you; "good job, you're taking me so well" or "deep breaths, darling, I'm almost all the way in". And when you're close to cumming; "ah- you're close, aren't you? Go on, cum for me, you can do it"

Body worship: I feel like this one is obvious. He loves everything about you, he finds every inch positively beautiful. If Rook wasn't so hopelessly horny for you, he'd do nothing but kiss every part of your body up and down. But alas. Horny.

Predator/Prey: must I even elaborate? Man is literally a hunter. However, Rook prefers a long con; stalking you throughout the day, appearing here and there, then finally striking when you're all alone. What he really likes is watching you get nervous and fidgety before you finally break and run away from him, so Rook can chase after you. In the end it'll probably end up with you two wrestling and he's absolutely okay with however it turns out- win or lose

Overstimulation: this is on pleasure dom Rook!!! All Rook really wants to do is make you feel good as much as possible, even if that leaves you twitching and crying because you've cum 6 times in a row.

Masochism: PAINSLUT ROOK!!! Rook likes everything you give him, and if what you give him happens to be pain? So be it, lay it on, baby. Nails scratching down his back, biting, hitting- just anything

Bondage: something about being physically tied down makes him feel like a hunted animal, like you two have been fighting back and this is the result of his failure. Rook, the perfect hunter, lines to feel like he's been defeated once in a while, it keeps things fresh!

Impact play: This is for bottom Rook for sure, but please spank him, slap him, whip him. You could slap Rook across the face and he'd get hard. I'm not even kidding. He's particularly fond of riding crops, especially on the inside of his thighs or across his back

Knife play: cut him. Do it. Do it. Do it. Being roughed up makes Rook feel satisfied, bruising, bleeding. And yeah he'd absolutely be okay with branding- if you're in a long term relationship. Cut your name into his thigh, he wants it

Blood play: Rook finds the look of blood against skin striking and gorgeous, he's not inclined to hurt you unless you ask, you can draw blood from him however you like. Hitting him til he gets a bloody nose? Hot. Biting him til he bleeds? Hot. Cutting him up? Hot.

Somnophilia: Rook is nasty okay. His stalker tendencies and love of vulnerability have made a monster, and if you'd let him, Rook would love to sneak in your room and fuck you while you're fast sleep

Guided/mutual masturbation: tell me that Rook wouldn't make you sit on his lap while you jerk off, you can't. Sat in front of a mirror, guiding you through every move so he can watch you write and get his lap all wet. Ahhh he's so cute

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

If you're okay fucking somewhere, so is Rook. If you let him, Rook would fuck you in front of anyone and everyone, this is NOT hyperbole. While the preference isn't strong, I think Rook probably prefers to have sex in public places that anyone could walk into; living room, kitchen, the counter of a public bathroom- of course the woods is a classic. The risk of being caught gives him a thrill that the bedroom just can't do!

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

It's the little things with Rook; how your neck looks when you turn your head, the little way you jump when he sneaks up behind you, how it feels when he can overpower you. Generally, Rook likes seeing you vulnerable, that's part of the reason he enjoys stalking so much.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Genuinely this was so hard to think of, but Rook won't treat you like trash. I know some of us like mean, cruel men, but Rook won't do it, he refuses to mar your beauty or tell lies about his feelings towards you. One of Rook's defining traits is unwavering, brutal honesty, so chances are Rook will never degrade you- he just cares too much. Doesn't mean you can't degrade him though-

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Giving, for sure. He likes seeing the cute faces you make while sucking him off, sure, but he thinks the noises you make while he's tongue fucking you are much better. If Rook is going to give you, head you're going to ride his face though- it's the best position! Sitting on Rook's face means A) he can see all your facial expressions and B) you can quite easily make him do whatever you want, which sounds lovely to him

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Honestly Rook will move at whatever pace you like but let's forget about that for a minute. Rook naturally wants to start out slow and sensual, dragging his cock along your walls, making sure to hit all your sensitive spots with each thrust in and out. As he goes along, Rook gets more excited and his thrusts pick up speed, turning a bit more rough and shallow until he's finally cumming. When Rook cums, he goes still while he's fully inside you, shuddering and moaning as he fills you up. He's got a habit for biting when he cums, like an animal sinking his teeth in to make sure you stay there while he finishes.

Now, I'll elaborate on quick rounds with Rook because they're a bit different. If you need to be fast, or if Rook is so horny he's gone feral, the word "slow" exits his dictionary. His thrusts start and stay hard, fast, and deep, it really gets across the desperation he feels good you, how cute 🫶

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Absolutely! Rook has no problems with a little pick-me-up sex, something to just satisfy your needs and move on. Of course, he prefers to draw out sex, but also takes a good amount of pleasure in tearing as many orgasms from you as fast as he can before sending you on your way, weak-kneed and sweating. I like to think Rook keeps a vibrator on him just got this sort of occasion

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Are you kidding me rn. Rook is the risk man, the only ones fighting him for this position are the tweels, and it's real close. Rook could approach you with something new to try every single week, and if you're the one to ask for experimenting, it's highly unlikely Rook will never say no. Maybe to like… vomit? Any way you slice it, Rook if freaky deaky and pulling you along with it

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

We all know Rook is athletic, baby!! I give it six rounds before Rook gets a bit too overstimulated and needs to give his dick a break before it turns purple, but he's happy to go on pleasuring you while he gets a little rest- but chances are you're exhausted by then too. How long each round lasts really depends on what you're doing, but he can last around 25-35 minutes before- not including any foreplay -so it'll really be up to you to keep up

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

This country boy is mostly an acoustics only partner. It's not that he's against toys, there's just nothing he's particularly interested in using on you. I believe Rook owns a good ol wand vibrator that he uses on you during guided/mutual masturbation, just because he appreciates how squirmy and whiny you get when he presses the toy against your sensitive spots.

But if you're using toys on him oh well… that is a different story. I think he mostly prefers good ol 'weiner up his ass, but Rook is real fond of a good vibrating cock ring and a few bullet vibes- taped to his nipples or the base of his cock. He also likes nipple clamps, ball gags, blind folds, riding crops, and basic whips.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You'll be shocked but Rook mostly likes to play things fair, he'll tease a little but Rook is straightforward. If Rook wants to fuck you, he'll just come out and ask, no need for any roundabout games! When it comes to actually having sex, Rook wants to make you feel good, he's not going to delay making you cum your brains out!

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Rook Hunt is for sure the noisiest man you’ve ever met. Not that he’s a screamer, moreso, he will not stop talking. We all know he can go on for hours about things he’s passionate about, but he’ll hardly let you get a word in edgewise, he’s too busy going on and on babbling about how gorgeous you are, how good you feel, praising how well you’re doing, murmuring sweet nothings- proud member and president of the “can’t shut the fuck up” club. Of course, you’ll get some good, loud moans from him too (usually interrupting his endless chatter). Rook is more of a moan guy than a grunt guy, it comes out high and is usually accompanied with a shudder and pleased sigh.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Sounding. This is WILD but Rook likes wild, and he would absolutely be 1000% be down for sounding, in fact he's the one who brought it up. He's already done research, he's already bought toys- come babe, keep up, get the rod in his dickhole already!! (Also I think he has piercing nipples, they're just basic golden studs, but they look cute on him)

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Rook is rocking long but kinda skinny. He's around 5.5 inches in flaccid, getting up to an even 7 when he's fully hard- man is a major league grower. As I said, a bit on the skinny side and no prominent veins, but his tip is a lovely cute pink and he gets so twitchy and leaky when he's hard. I'm not sure he has a dick piercing, just because he's a bit worried about the healing interrupting his sex life or exercise, but Rook has thought about getting a piercing or two- guiche or prince Albert I think

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Turning on Rook is like turning on a light switch; you only need one good slap and you could do it with your eyes closed. You could breathe too close to him and Rook would get hard. Rook would fuck you every single day, multiple times a day if you let him. He's not afraid to ask you- or send videos of himself masturbating to the thought of you! Mwah enjoy the teasing babe

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It really depends on whether or not he tops, honestly. In terms of topping? Rook could never sleep after sex, it makes him energized! For this reason, Rook actually prefers not to have sex after dark, morning or midday sex works out better for him. After a good round or two, sometimes Rook will go straight into a workout.

Bottom Rook, though? He still feels refreshed but he's more likely to just settle down for a little while and chill out. He likes to lay back with you and blab on about whatever comes to mind- Rook low-key the king of pillow talk, he could give a 5 page essay debrief on your sex life.

That's all for today's showing guys, thank you for watching!

Hooooo boy! This one takes the cake for the longest alphabet yet at 3.8k (for reference, Trey's was 2.1k) this alphabet gave me some trouble, I didn't expect Rook to give me this much of a challenge! I think I got in my own head and tried to make this one really professional for a lil, then I went back a read some of my last alphabets and eased up. But there was a lot of writing, re-writing and re-formatting- sorry @birtha I did not mean to take this long, but it's finally done and I hope you like it! Also for that anon who sent in the Barbatos req, I see you, I hear you, I love you, it's in the works. Mwah thanks for reading you guys are baller

[lovelyinconsistentices]

°˖➴ 𝚂𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙳𝙰𝚈𝚂 ⋆· ༘ *

‧₊˚ ꩜彡┆𝚂𝚄𝙼𝙼𝙰𝚁𝚈 .ᐟ

Reader plus Scott are sick from food poisoning, leaving Wallace to take care of them as he fortunately didn't get sick. Basically him being perfectly fine, besides the fact he has two people to take care of now. But it's not like he minds it, as long as they avoid puking in bed and on him that is.

✎ᝰ.┆𝙶𝙴𝙽𝚁𝙴 .ᐟ

Third-Person point of view, Oneshot, light fluff. Also, Scott Pilgrim Vs The World version.

‧₊˚ ꩜彡┆𝙿𝙰𝙸𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂 .ᐟ

Wallace Wells X Male Reader, and then we have Scott. Always the third wheel.

✎ᝰ.┆𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙶 𝙸𝙽𝚂𝙿𝙾 .ᐟ

Cupid's Chokehold / Breakfast in America by Gym Class Heroes.

⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ 𝙰𝚄𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚁'𝚂 𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙴

Thank you so much for 100+ notes, I'm so proud of this oneshot for Wallace Wells and can't wait to write more for him. During the time of this I was suffering from food poisoning, so this was practically self-indulgent for me. Also, here's the Second-person version if you'd prefer that. I'm so happy people seem to enjoy it, thank you for reading and for new people I hope you enjoy! <33

The male emitted a soft groan, his body slumped over the toilet as he braced himself for the possibility of vomiting. He felt dreadful—his stomach aching intensely, accompanied by a slight wave of nausea. Standing a few feet away in the bathroom doorway was Wallace, clad only in his boxers and the button-up shirt he had worn the previous night at the bar. The circumstances that led the other male to this state were an entirely different story.

The night before, when they both returned home, they found Scott busy cooking dinner. It wasn't unusual for Wallace to bring home hookups or boyfriends, so Scott didn't mind. Besides, they hadn't been heavily intoxicated upon arrival, having consumed only a moderate amount of alcohol prior to leaving. Wallace seemed somewhat disoriented, his mind still slightly foggy, but he managed to comprehend the conversation between the two men. As for M/n, he was relatively sober.

The male engaging in conversation with Scott, while Wallace interjected occasionally with a few remarks whenever he felt inclined to do so. After ruffling Scott's hair and grabbing a drink from the refrigerator, Wallace made an effort to pay attention, even though he wasn't particularly interested in their awkward exchange. He felt relieved that the two seemed capable of sustaining a conversation for such a prolonged period. Soon, Scott offered a plate of food, and everything appeared fine, except for the overcooked pork chops.

Given his own inability to cook pork chops flawlessly, M/n understood the situation and didn't want to be impolite, so he accepted the meal. Eventually, Wallace finished his drink and began preparing for bed, removing his shoes and coat before plopping down on the mattress with a sigh. Meanwhile, Scott and M/n were still trying to finish their meals. M/n engaged in small talk with Scott, who responded with brief sentences while standing nearby.

Sooner or later, both men finished eating and prepared to retire for the night. M/n didn't seem to mind if it would be a snug fit with all three of them sharing the bed. He slowly discarded any unnecessary clothing items before lying down next to Wallace, who had already fallen asleep, likely due to exhaustion. It didn't take long for Scott to follow suit, curling up on the other side of Wallace and drifting off to sleep a few minutes later. And now, in the present moment, M/n found himself sitting in front of the toilet, holding his head and emitting another groan.

"I swear, when your roommate wakes up, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind," he exclaimed aloud, irritated by the situation but primarily focused on his own discomfort. In response, Wallace chuckled softly as he peered down at M/n. "He didn't do it intentionally. He had a rough day and probably forgot you can't put the meat back in the freezer after it's thawed out," he explained in a gentle tone, offering a water bottle to M/n, who promptly accepted it. M/n then opened the water bottle, scoffed, took a few sips, and next quietly thanked Wallace.

"Rough day, huh? Well, unless he plans on making me breakfast and kissing away my pain, I'm not interested in his excuses," M/n teased, his tone light. However, as he clutched his stomach and sighed, his brows furrowed. Just as he was about to speak again, Wallace interrupted, quietly approaching from behind and bending over to bring his face close to M/n's, whispering, "Well, I'd be more than happy to make it up to you in other ways." M/n glanced back, encountering Wallace's familiar mischievous smirk.

He promptly pushed Wallace's face away, shaking his head. Although the offer sounded enticing, M/n couldn't help but emphasize his current state. "Unless you want me to vomit all over you, I suggest you move away," he retorted with a groan, followed by the sound of retching as he leaned against the wall for support. Wallace then cringed in disgust, sighing as he patted M/n's back.

"Yeah, let's avoid that scenario as much as possible. Speaking of which, I should wake up Scott, just in case. It's better to be safe if he's also feeling sick and I don't want him making a mess everywhere if he begins throwing up as well," Wallace explained, stepping away and stretching as he prepared to leave. He turned back before departing, parting his lips to speak. "I'll put the kettle on the stove. Would you prefer tea or coffee?" he inquired. M/n took a moment before responding, "Tea. My stomach probably can't handle coffee right now." Wallace hummed in acknowledgment before leaving, most likely heading to the kitchen.

After some time, M/n emerged from the bathroom. The sound of the whistling kettle in the kitchen immediately caught his attention, and he noticed Wallace fully dressed, sorting through mail. Meanwhile, Scott remained fast asleep in bed, his head covered by a pillow. The male decided to tackle the situation first, so he put on his jeans and buttoned them up before approaching the mattress and bending down. "Rise and shine, Scotty! I know you might prefer to sleep in, but your stomach will soon demand otherwise," he announced aloud as he gently shook Scott, eliciting a groan in response.

Scott rolled over, his eyes immediately focusing on the other male. He then shook his head, sighing as he didn't want to get out of bed. "Can you put a shirt on?" was the first thing to come out of his mouth as he sat up. The male, just nodded and stood up. "Sorry, I forgot how provocative my chest could be. I'll put a shirt on now," M/n teased before retrieving his shirt and pulling it over his head. He then made his way into the kitchen, and Wallace, who was also present, let out a huff in response to M/n's comment.

"Very provocative. Next time, don't put on a shirt. That way, I'll have a nice view to watch as I eat my breakfast," Wallace joked mischievously, earning an eye roll from both Scott and M/n. Scott took his time getting up but eventually headed to the bathroom to take care of his business, while M/n started preparing tea in the kitchen. He poured hot water into a mug and let the tea steep, hoping it would taste good despite not recognizing the brand. Meanwhile, he began gathering the necessary ingredients for breakfast from the fridge.

"Right, Scott! Once you're done puking your guts out, we need to make sure you didn't put any other meats back in the fridge after they thawed out. Can't risk food poisoning again, and I, for one, will not eat any meat for a while because of this, well besides bacon at least," M/n stated audibly enough for Scott to hear him, referring to their present incident of food poisoning. He looked down at the pack of bacon on the counter and then moved to retrieve the silverware and plates. Wallace chimed in as he observed M/n's preparations. "I thought I was the one making breakfast?" he asked, his gaze following M/n's movements.

"Yeah, and I thought I'd be woken up with morning kisses instead of my stomach trying to kill me in my sleep. But if you want, you can make breakfast. I'm just getting everything ready. Now be a dear and relax. Enjoy your coffee," M/n replied, standing next to Wallace at the counter and setting down a bowl before checking his tea to see if it was ready. Wallace just hummed in response, watching M/n with amusement. He brought the mug to his lips, took a sip, and then placed it back down.

Wallace was then about to say something when he got interrupted by M/n quickly walking past him towards the bathroom. Scott, who had just emerged from the bathroom fully dressed, raised an eyebrow at Wallace as he made his way to the counter and picked up the mug of tea that M/n had left behind. Unfortunately, he burned his tongue as he attempted to take a sip and let out a hiss of pain. "Morning, sunshine. How are you feeling?" Wallace asked with a smirk, turning to Scott and observing him slowly blowing at the tea to cool it down. Scott then muttered in response, "Like I'm dying." He seemed to be handling the pain, but the discomfort was evident on his face. Wallace nodded and took the mug from Scott's hands, pushing the kettle towards him. "I'll start breakfast soon, hopefully," he replied before heading towards the bathroom with his coffee and M/n's tea.

Once Wallace finally entered the bathroom, he set the mugs down on the floor and began rubbing M/n's back in circular motions, trying to make him feel at least a little better given the situation. "Do you think you'll be able to survive the rest of the day?" Wallace asked, to which M/n shook his head and inhaled sharply. "I want to curl up under a pile of blankets and not wake up until this all goes away. There's no way in hell I can deal with this for the rest of the day."

"I might have to take a sick day off. I can't work with this until it passes," M/n continued, gripping the side of the toilet. Wallace nodded, pressing his chin against M/n's shoulder as he continued rubbing his back. "I don't mind running to get some medicine. You can lay down in bed and try to get some rest while waiting. How does that sound?" Wallace suggested, sitting there with M/n. M/n let out an audible sigh and then replied, "Please, that would probably be better than anything at the moment."

Wallace promptly enveloped his arm around the man's waist, responding with a simple hum as he leaned against him. Eventually, they both exited the bathroom, with M/n finding solace in bed, attempting to manage the pain while Wallace took charge of preparing breakfast. Sensing his own discomfort, Scott chose to remain at home for the day, settling into the armchair and engaging in a conversation with Stacy, who had called to check on him. It appeared that Wallace had already updated her on the situation, resulting in a lecture about being more cautious.

In due time, Wallace completed breakfast, serving himself and Scott plates of food, while M/n declined due to his unsettled stomach. Sensing the male's need for nourishment later, he saved a plate in the refrigerator. Once breakfast was finished, Wallace donned his coat and ventured out to procure medicine. Fortunately, his absence was brief, and upon returning home, he discovered Scott comfortably seated in bed, engrossed in a comic book, while M/n peacefully slumbered. This brought Wallace a measure of relief, knowing they were getting the rest they required.

He ensured that provisions were readily available for when M/n awoke. Simultaneously, he handed Scott a mug of tea along with a couple of vitamin pills. He then tossed the bottle of Pepto-Bismol he had obtained to Scott, who managed to catch it with some effort. Once settled back into his armchair, Wallace resumed his seat and perused the newspaper, reading through its contents. He resolved to remain in the company of the two individuals, ensuring their well-being.