#if had this one with this theme for like ever

[sinner-as-saint]

here forever

Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Run-through: Dating a superhero was no joke. And as noble as Bucky’s job was, it was just as dangerous and unpredictable. Which is why ever since you and Bucky started dating, he’d been training you in his free time. Teaching you how to defend yourself if ever he wasn’t around to protect you, or if ever his enemies came after you. Although you weren’t perfect at combat yet, you were almost certain you could get out of a tricky situation if you ever found yourself in one. But you were soon proven wrong. And your only option was to hope and pray that Bucky finds you in time. 

Themes: smut, fluff, mentions of kidnapping and death, boyfriend!bucky to the rescue, slight angst, hurt/comfort, mean!dom!bucky, aftercare, biker!bucky (except i made him wear a helmet because safety), mild daddy kink (nicknames only)

a/n: short, quick lil fic because I know we’re all hungry

It had been two hours since these strange men had so easily abducted you off the streets. 

It was a regular day, you were leaving yoga class and were on your way to pick up a smoothie. A treat you always got yourself after each workout class. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except Bucky’s incessant messages asking about your location. 

You knew you weren’t supposed to let your guard down, not even on busy streets – one of the first lessons Bucky taught you just weeks after your first date with him. But you couldn’t help looking down and frowning at your phone. Your bag, purse and phone in your hands. Always have your hands free when walking alone, even on busy streets – the second thing he taught you. 

Always be ready. Always be ready. Always be fucking ready. 

But you had messed up that morning. Bucky’s messages were starting to worry you. He had been away since last night, and as usual, never gave you too many details about his job. But all you knew was that before he left, he’d asked you to try and not go out if you could. Your apartment was safe. He had eyes all over that building. Cameras, security guards, it was the safest place you could be. 

‘Where are you? Why aren’t you home?’

Seconds later: 

‘I told you not to go out. It’s not safe right now. Call me.’ 

Then some missed calls which you couldn’t answer because you were in class at the time. Then messages one after the other: 

‘Go straight home.’ 

‘Is your class over?’ 

‘Go home and wait for me. Don’t open the door for anyone else.’ 

‘Baby I’m so serious right now, go home.’ 

And you were midway through typing an answer to reply to him. To tell him not to worry. To tell him that yes your class was over, and everything was okay and you would call him as soon as you got home. 

But you never got the chance to reply to his messages. 

It all happened too fast. One moment you were looking down, all your focus on your phone and boyfriend, and the next, you were being grabbed and shoved into a dark truck. You barely even got a scream out before the doors were shut and a tape sealed your mouth, ropes snaking around your wrists and ankles. 

And just like that, in less than a full minute, you were taken. 

And here you were now. 

In the back of that same truck which had been driving for about two hours, maybe more. Getting further and further away from the city you lived in, and into more and more unknown areas. 

Fuck! You had messed up. 

You should’ve checked your phone while you were still inside the building. You shouldn’t have been texting on the streets. You shouldn’t have let your guard down. Bucky had been saying for weeks that he suspected people had eyes on him, and consequently you because you two spent a lot of time together. 

He was right of course. He always was. You should’ve listened. You should’ve stayed at home, at least until he got back later today. 

A tear slid down your face, like it had been for the past hours. You silently cried, thinking about all the potential circumstances you could end up finding yourself in. You couldn’t even tell who were the men who kidnapped you because they all wore masks and hadn’t said a single word in the past hours. 

They were armed. And the truck seemed bulletproof. And they kept driving. Nothing said about wanting a ransom, nothing about why they had taken you, or whether they were using you as bait to get Bucky’s attention. Surely they were. 

And a few minutes later, when you heard the familiar roar of a familiar bike, you knew they had his full attention. 

Bucky was here. 

But they hadn’t noticed yet. And you didn’t want them to. So you tried to get all their attention on you by wiggling in the backseat, acting like you were trying to get more comfortable. The two armed men right in front of you just glanced at you and your tied limbs and let you be. 

You noticed the guy in the passenger seat didn’t even bother looking at you. The driver looked into the rearview mirror but quickly looked away and ahead. 

They still hadn’t heard the faint, steady roar of Bucky’s bike. 

Perfect. 

By the time Bucky would get close enough to attack, he would catch them by surprise. And it would be too late for them to react and defend themselves. 

So you kept moving, grunting in annoyance extra loudly just to mask the sound of Bucky’s bike as it got closer and closer– 

A loud gunshot exploded near you. For a moment nothing made sense. 

Then you realised the truck was no longer steady, it was tilted on one side. Bucky had shot one or more of the tires. You sighed in relief, while the men in the vehicle panicked. Muffled voices spoke all at once, one of them telling the driver to drive faster. 

Another, one of the men who was armed in front of you, lowered the window and popped his head and gun out, trying to find whoever was around but it was too late. 

You turned your head and managed to catch a glimpse of him through the rear windshield. Amongst the smoke and dirt flying, there he was. Mounted on his mean bike like a fierce general riding his beast into battle. Except this general wasn’t backed by soldiers. He was alone. 

But army or not, he was still Bucky Barnes. All black bike, black helmet, full biker gear, metal arm catching the sunlight. Guns strapped to his body. He looked like Death. 

A sob shook your body as you ducked and hid under the seats as much as you could as Bucky rain down bullets like hellfire upon the vehicle. He knew it was bulletproof, but you were certain he was doing it just to get the men to use their weapons and waste their bullets on him as fast as possible. 

The loud noises made it seem like your brain was vibrating, your heart was racing, and your ears were hurting with how loud the guns and shouts were. But Bucky was here, and all would be well now. 

A few seconds later, the truck began zig-zagging. You assumed it must be because the driver got shot. More shouts and bullets later, the truck came to a sudden stop. Like it collided with something that was strong enough to stop it even at that speed. 

But there was nothing on the empty streets you had been on. Nothing except… Bucky. 

An eerie silence followed. Then footsteps. The men in the truck had all been shot you realised upon smelling the scent of blood and gunpowder. 

You couldn’t get yourself up, not with your limbs still tied but you tried your best. And you were barely up when you heard the sound of metal literally tearing apart. You managed to peek from the back seat and Bucky had torn off one of the doors. The entire door off the side of the truck. 

You couldn’t call for him, but you kicked the back of one of the seats hard enough to get his attention. 

The moment his ocean blue eyes met your teary ones, you couldn’t help but start crying. Hot, burning tears streaming down your face as Bucky almost tore apart the entire truck to get to you. The moment he grabbed you and pulled you out into the open air, it was only his arm around you keeping you up. 

“I’ve got you,” He whispered over and over again, “You’re safe. I’ve got you, baby. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here.” He repeated continuously as he carefully peeled the tape off your lips and cupped your face in his hands, looking at you intently to look for injuries while he wiped your tears away. “Are you hurt?” He asked, looking more panicked and worried than ever. “Baby, answer me. Did they hurt you? Inject you with anything? Touch you?” 

You shook your head, wanting nothing more than to just be able to take a deep breath, now safe in his arms. Only when you went to wrap your shaky arms around him, he stopped you. Keeping you at arms’ length and away from him. 

That worried, soft look in his eyes turned cold. Even under the afternoon sun, you shivered under his gaze. 

“What the fuck did I tell you before I left, huh?” He snarled. “I told you to stay inside, don’t leave the building. Didn’t I say that?” 

You sniffled, nodding. “I just went to my weekly class, and–,” 

He cut you off, hissing, “And look what happened!” He was almost screaming in your face, “You’re so lucky I got here in time. You’re so fucking lucky I have a tracker in that bag of yours. Otherwise it would’ve taken me days to get to you! Days!” 

You trembled, knowing he was right. Bucky dealt with dangerous people. He knew why he asked you to be cautious. 

Bucky leaned closer to you, looking down at you with no warmth. “These aren’t the villains you read about in your silly, little fucking books.” His voice sounded menacing, freezing. “These are actual, dangerous people. They wouldn’t have waited for you to charm your way out. They would’ve killed you!” He yelled. 

“I’m sorry,” You sobbed. “I was replying to your texts and–,” 

“We had a deal, didn’t we?” He grabbed you by the chin and forced you to look at him. “That when I tell you it’s not safe out there, you stay put. You stay inside and wait for me.” He growled. “You could’ve been killed today! And who would have had to live with that, huh? Who would’ve had to live with the disappointment that he couldn’t keep you safe? That he brought you into this shitty life and couldn’t even keep you alive?” He bellowed. “Who would’ve had to look your family in the eyes and tell them he lost you? Me! That’s who!” 

More tears, and a whimper escaped your lips. “I’m sorry.” You whispered. You had never seen this side of him. He let go of your face like it burned to touch you. 

He looked around, at the torn apart truck. At the bodies. The bullets on the ground. He grimaced but didn’t say anything. He reached into the truck and grabbed your things. Your bag and all that you had on you when you were taken. Your phone wasn’t here though, they must’ve thrown it out onto the streets while they took you. 

Bucky said, “We need to get out of here. Come.” 

He didn’t turn around to see if you were following, he knew you would. Once he got on his bike, he handed you his jacket and helmet. You put both on without questioning where you were going. 

Once sat behind him, your arms hesitantly around his torso, he turned to the side and said, “City’s not safe right now. We’ll spend the night at a motel nearby.” 

And that was all he said for the next few hours. 

– 

By the time you two made it to the motel – which was much, much more decent and clean than you had imagined – the sun was already setting. The place was quiet. A few voices conversing here and there, ACs humming as ACs do, cars coming in and out frequently given there was a gas station nearby, and a burger joint on the other side of the street. 

Bucky got you two a room for the night, and didn’t say a word to you as he grabbed your hand and led you to the room. 

It was a decent room. Bed, bedside tables, TV, sofas. The usual. 

You didn’t notice Bucky had packed a bag as well. You hadn’t been paying much attention anyway. He placed his much bigger bag on the bed and pulled out a few things. Some belonging to you, you noticed. Toothbrush, soaps, clean clothes. 

He handed a bunch of things to you and said, “Go shower.” He didn’t even look at you as he spoke. Guess he was still angry at you. 

You didn’t argue. You just took the things and rushed to the bathroom, locking yourself in there for a good half an hour. 

When you stepped out of the shower, feeling clean finally, you noticed Bucky wasn’t in the room. And the weather outside had changed. You could hear the faint thunder approaching. Surely by tonight there would be a storm. 

But where had Bucky gone? 

You put your clothes away in your bag, and with no phone you had no choice but to turn the TV on. You got in bed, a few minutes into watching some random documentary when Bucky walked in with food. 

You gave him a look, wondering if he would talk to you now. But all he said as he placed the bags filled with food on the bed was, “It’s none of your fancy green smoothies and healthy wraps, but it’ll have to do for now. I’m going to shower.” 

Then he disappeared. 

You were still upset, but then hunger took over and you pawed at the bags like a raccoon. You found milkshakes, fries, and burgers. And you ate while you wondered how long Bucky would keep being angry at you. 

You were halfway through your second burger when Bucky walked out of the shower. With nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. His wet, dark hair pushed back, droplets of water still dripping down his chest and abs. 

You swallowed your food before you choked, then looked away, acting as if the documentary on the TV was much more interesting to look at compared to your half naked boyfriend. 

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He asked, and you noticed he was carrying a first-aid kit in his hands. 

You shook your head. 

“Nothing? No scratches, nothing?” He asked again. 

You shrugged, “Just a small cut. It’ll heal. Nothing serious.” 

He walked over to your side of the bed, and said, “Show me.” 

You didn’t want to argue so you placed your food aside, lifted your shirt and showed him the minuscule cut on your ribs. “It’s not–,” 

But he cut you off by placing the kit down and looking for some cotton and disinfectant. 

It burned as he cleaned in and put a little bandaid over it. It hurt even more when he didn’t kiss it after like he usually does whenever he tends to your cuts and wounds. 

You didn’t say a word though. And soon, you both finished your food in silence with only the TV and the approaching storm as noise in the background. 

The thunder got louder and louder as you both got into bed. That weird silent treatment continued, and by now you were annoyed as well. You’d admit, it was your fault for being so careless when he’d told you to be cautious. But didn’t he see that you needed him now? 

Couldn’t he see you wanted to be held? And kissed? And comforted? 

You frowned in the dark. The lights from outside came through the blinds and lit the room up a little bit. As did the lightning. You were the only one tossing and turning you noticed, Bucky was asleep it seemed. 

But the thunder, the new bed, the fear and stress from earlier, it was all keeping you from falling asleep. Plus, it was a little embarrassing to admit, but you liked being held while you fell asleep. But Bucky wasn’t even talking to you, and wrapping your own arms around yourself wasn’t working. 

Another hour went by. Now the heavy rain finally came, along with a proper thunder storm. And you couldn’t take it anymore. 

You turned to face Bucky and he had his eyes shut, facing you. Not a single item of clothing on his body, except for a thin sheet covering him from the waist down. You sighed, frowning a little in annoyance still but you couldn’t help but scoot closer to him, seeking his warmth and embrace. 

First you pressed into him, to see if he would stir or wake up. He didn’t. So you got bolder and took his metal arm and placed it around you, waiting again. He didn’t move. So you went to wrap your arms around him, and once you did, you heard his sleepy voice saying, “Oh, what’s this? Now you need me?” 

You froze, trying to see if you could pretend you were asleep already. He didn’t buy it. 

“I know you’re awake.” 

You sighed. “It’s the thunder.” You said, nuzzling his warm neck. 

“And you need daddy to protect you now, little bunny?” He mocked. “But when I try to tell you what to do to keep you safe you never listen.” 

You noticed he kept his arm around you, pulling you more into him even as he chided you. “I’m so sorry, Buck. It won’t happen again.” 

He hummed. “It better not.” 

You were quiet for a second or two, then said, “You were so mean to me earlier.” 

“I have to be.” He said sternly. “You never listen. You don’t take your training seriously, you think you’re ready to fight your way out, baby, but you’re not. All I asked you to do was not to leave that apartment until I got there. But you couldn’t help but be a brat, could you?” 

You squirmed in shame. “I don’t want you to be angry with me.” 

“Well,” He said, sounding sassy as he pulled you closer, “I am pissed. Deal with it.” 

You had had enough. You slipped out of his arms, “Stay here and brood then,” You tried to get out of bed, “I’ll sleep on one of the sofas–” 

Bucky didn’t let you. A loud thunder boomed right above as he pulled you back into bed and climbed on top of you. “Stop being fucking difficult.” He hissed. 

Before you could answer, his mouth was on yours. Beard scratching your face, his long hair tickling the sides of your face. 

His kiss was rough and it hurt in the best way. Bucky pulled away for a brief moment, squeezed your cheeks so you couldn’t close your mouth. “Brat.” Glaring down at you, he spat in your mouth before kissing you again. 

Your brain felt like it was floating. His kiss was hot. And messy. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, “Needy little brat. Can’t ever do as you’re told, can you? You almost got fucking killed today, but you don’t care about that. Do you? Huh?” 

You were quiet. Your brain was too foggy with lust to function. 

“Why are you quiet? No bratty words for daddy?” He asked, sliding his rough hands up and down your parted thighs. You spread them even more the moment he touched you and he smirked when he noticed it. “Go on, tell me to stop. Tell me to let you go.” He taunted, knowing full well you would never do that. 

All you did was whimper as he touched you mindlessly, sliding his fingers up and down your slit, spreading your wetness around. 

“You’re gonna listen from now on.” He stated. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll lock you in that apartment if I have to. But from now on, if I tell you it’s not safe out there, you do not leave that house. You hear me, princess?” 

Silence. Which earned you a slap on the thigh. You yelped in pain before glaring at him. “Fine,” You said, “Yes, I hear you. I’ll be good.” You whined. 

“Of course you will,” He said, his metal hand pinned you down on the bed by wrapping around your neck to keep you in place, while his other hand wrapped around his cock. Pumping it once, twice while holding your stare. “‘Cause I’ll have you over my knee and spank that little butt raw if you don’t.” 

You whimpered and squirmed because of how badly you needed him inside you. “I will. I’ll be so good,” You begged, “Buck, please.” 

Bucky wasted no time sliding inside of you. Giving you no time to even think, he moved in and out of you in a way that had you moaning out loud, not caring that the walls might be thin. 

The storm got louder somehow, thunder rumbling and lightning lighting up the room every now and then. The rain got heavier, silencing the rest of the world as Bucky fucked you. His body weight pressing down onto you in a way that made you never want to be anywhere else. 

It didn’t matter that you were in a small motel room, so far away from home. It didn’t matter that danger could still be lurking around. Nothing mattered, not when he held your stare as he fucked you hard and fast, barely giving you time to breathe right. 

He leaned in again, whispering against the corner of your open mouth, “Look how you behave the moment you have some cock in you. Is that all my baby wanted? Daddy’s cock? Hmm? Is this why you’ve been pouting for the past few hours?” He chuckled, spreading your thighs even more, “I’ve been mean to you, haven’t I?” He cooed, fucking into you deeper somehow. “I’ve been so mean by telling you just where you messed up and how bad things could’ve gotten if I didn’t reach you in time. I’m so mean to you, aren’t I?” He mocked you, scoffing, “Is that why your pussy is strangling my cock, baby? Because daddy’s so mean to you, is he?”

You could feel your face getting hotter as your walls clenched around him over and over again, as he sped up and pounded into you. You felt all of him stretching you out, filling you up, moving rapidly in and out of you until he was all you could focus on. 

“Is this what you wanted, little bunny?” He whispered, pounding into you relentlessly as he bent down to bite your lower lip and tug on it. “Is this enough to make you behave from now on, baby?” 

You moaned at how perfect his warm body felt on top of yours, his weight pressing down on you. His stubble tickled your skin as he kissed your face and bit on your lip. Your legs trembled as his thrusts, relentless and unbearably good. The pressure around your lower body grew, familiar, tight and hot.

The storm, the streetlights, and every little bit of light allowed you to see how Bucky looked down at you as you tightened around his cock. He smirked, looking down to where his cock disappeared into you each time he thrust in. “I killed for you today.” He whispered, “I saved you, and this is what I get? Attitude? A bratty girl? Not even a thank you,” He scoffed, “Not even a ‘thank you for saving me daddy’, nothing.” The cold cruelty in his voice only made you clench around him harder. 

His hand squeezed your throat again, making you moan even louder. “Dirty little slut. Look at you, all cock drunk.” He scoffed, giving you yet another messy kiss. “Are you gonna be good from now on?” 

“Yes,” You whined, not recognising your voice because of how desperate you sounded. Then again, only he could make you sound this way. You whimpered, unable to say anything else because of how good he felt sliding in and out of you. 

Fuck, you needed this. So much. You whined again when his hand let go of your throat, fingers trailing down your squirming body until his metal fingers found your clit, toying with it while he pounded into you mercilessly. 

“Yeah?” He stared deep into your eyes as he spoke. “You’re gonna be my good girl and listen to me?” 

You nodded, tears streaming down your face again. The exhaustion from earlier, the day you had survived. It was all too much. “Please…” You whimpered, squirming and unable to hold back anymore. You needed to come so bad. Your thoughts were a mess. 

“Good girl.” 

And you couldn’t hold back anymore. You came undone all around him. Moaning, your back arching off the bed as you came hard around his cock, tightening around him even harder than earlier. 

Bucky kept pounding into you as your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him violently. Your body trembling under him. “That’s it, babygirl. Come for daddy.” 

You could hear the untamed hunger in his deep, growly voice. He groaned until he came undone as well. You whined and whimpered as you felt him filling you up, his thrusts slowing down, his cum dripping down your inner thighs. 

—

You vaguely remember his cleaning the two of you. He let you rest for a minute, but then it seemed like he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. So he flipped you around, straddled you and began massaging your worn out body. 

He rubbed his rough hands all over your back, down your hips, and thighs. It was quiet for a while. Just the rain, the thunder, and the sound of Bucky breathing. 

Then you heard his gentle voice. “I can’t lose you. Not you.” He whispered, like he was saying it to himself, “Not you, baby.” 

Your heart throbbed and pinched.  

He leaned down and kissed the back of your neck, your shoulders, down your spine, all while massaging your body. “I don’t like being mean to you.” He kissed his way up again, nuzzling your ear and whispering, “Earlier today,” He spoke softly, “When I watched the tracker show me how fast you were getting further and further away, thinking about how they must’ve grabbed you. How easily, how quickly they took you, I–,” His voice cracked. 

You couldn’t help the tears anymore, “I’m sorry.” You tried to turn over and face him but he gently pushed you back down on the bed. 

“Shh,” He shut you up. “Just let me take care of you.” His hands touched you everywhere. Soft touches soothing the spots he’d grabbed harshly earlier. “You scared me, baby.” He kissed around the cut on your side. “For a moment I thought I’d never see you again.” 

“I’ll be good, I promise.” You sniffled, trying to look at him over your shoulder. “I’ll train harder, I’ll be better. I won’t let my guard down, ever.” 

He leaned in and kissed your lips gently. “You’re perfect.” He stated. “We’ll work on training you better. We’ll be okay. Don’t worry baby, I’ve got you. Always.” 

You gave him a teary smile and sheepishly said, “Thank you for saving me.” 

Bucky laughed softly, nuzzling your neck again, kissing your skin like he couldn’t get enough. “I would burn this entire world down if anyone tries to take you from me again.” 

You laid your head back down on the pillow, laughing softly. Thinking he was joking. 

He wasn’t.

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

I think Yandere!Jing Yuan would be happy to play the part of the lovesick, clingy, dozing General who begs you to stay in his arms for five more minutes. You're so warm, so perfect in his embrace, as though the Aeons molded the both of you to fit against one another flawlessly. When you return home, he's quick to rush over to your side and nuzzle against your neck, whispering how much he missed you.

And while part of him genuinely is utterly devoted to you, the other part of him plays his cuddliness up so you feel like you're the one in control in this relationship. It's not like Jing Yuan convinced you to move in with him, or to switch from working full-time to part time. No, all he did was listen and give you advice, advice that just so happened to mention doing exactly those things.

After all, it's not like Jing Yuan would ever hurt you, right? He's in love with you, and you're in love with him.

Truly, Jing Yuan would never even fathom hurting you. Just a trace of pain tainting your beautiful fair face hurt worse than the loss of all his friends combined. It was why he had to do this. But luckily, you'd never even know a thing; in your eyes, Jing Yuan is just a docile cat.

Little do you know, you're trapped in the den of a lion.

[tinystepsforward]

autocrattic (more matt shenanigans, not tumblr this time)

I am almost definitely not the right person for this writeup, but I'm closer than most people on here, so here goes! This is all open-source tech drama, and I take my time laying out the context, but the short version is: Matt tried to extort another company, who immediately posted receipts, and now he's refusing to log off again. The long version is... long.

If you don't need software context, scroll down/find the "ok tony that's enough. tell me what's actually happening" heading, or just go read the pink sections. Or look at this PDF.

the background

So. Matt's original Good Idea was starting WordPress with fellow developer Mike Little in 2003, which is free and open-source software (FOSS) that was originally just for blogging, but now powers lots of websites that do other things. In particular, Automattic acquired WooCommerce a long time ago, which is free online store software you can run on WordPress.

FOSS is... interesting. It's a world that ultimately is powered by people who believe deeply that information and resources should be free, but often have massive blind spots (for example, Wikipedia's consistently had issues with bias, since no amount of "anyone can edit" will overcome systemic bias in terms of who has time to edit or is not going to be driven away by the existing contributor culture). As with anything else that people spend thousands of hours doing online, there's drama. As with anything else that's technically free but can be monetized, there are:

Heaps of companies and solo developers who profit off WordPress themes, plugins, hosting, and other services;

Conflicts between volunteer contributors and for-profit contributors;

Annoying founders who get way too much credit for everything the project has become.

the WordPress ecosystem

A project as heavily used as WordPress (some double-digit percentage of the Internet uses WP. I refuse to believe it's the 43% that Matt claims it is, but it's a pretty large chunk) can't survive just on the spare hours of volunteers, especially in an increasingly monetised world where its users demand functional software, are less and less tech or FOSS literate, and its contributors have no fucking time to build things for that userbase.

Matt runs Automattic, which is a privately-traded, for-profit company. The free software is run by the WordPress Foundation, which is technically completely separate (wordpress.org). The main products Automattic offers are WordPress-related: WordPress.com, a host which was designed to be beginner-friendly; Jetpack, a suite of plugins which extend WordPress in a whole bunch of ways that may or may not make sense as one big product; WooCommerce, which I've already mentioned. There's also WordPress VIP, which is the fancy bespoke five-digit-plus option for enterprise customers. And there's Tumblr, if Matt ever succeeds in putting it on WordPress. (Every Tumblr or WordPress dev I know thinks that's fucking ridiculous and impossible. Automattic's hiring for it anyway.)

Automattic devotes a chunk of its employees toward developing Core, which is what people in the WordPress space call WordPress.org, the free software. This is part of an initiative called Five for the Future — 5% of your company's profits off WordPress should go back into making the project better. Many other companies don't do this.

There are lots of other companies in the space. GoDaddy, for example, barely gives back in any way (and also sucks). WP Engine is the company this drama is about. They don't really contribute to Core. They offer relatively expensive WordPress hosting, as well as providing a series of other WordPress-related products like LocalWP (local site development software), Advanced Custom Fields (the easiest way to set up advanced taxonomies and other fields when making new types of posts. If you don't know what this means don't worry about it), etc.

Anyway. Lots of strong personalities. Lots of for-profit companies. Lots of them getting invested in, or bought by, private equity firms.

Matt being Matt, tech being tech

As was said repeatedly when Matt was flipping out about Tumblr, all of the stuff happening at Automattic is pretty normal tech company behaviour. Shit gets worse. People get less for their money. WordPress.com used to be a really good place for people starting out with a website who didn't need "real" WordPress — for $48 a year on the Personal plan, you had really limited features (no plugins or other customisable extensions), but you had a simple website with good SEO that was pretty secure, relatively easy to use, and 24-hour access to Happiness Engineers (HEs for short. Bad job title. This was my job) who could walk you through everything no matter how bad at tech you were. Then Personal plan users got moved from chat to emails only. Emails started being responded to by contractors who didn't know as much as HEs did and certainly didn't get paid half as well. Then came AI, and the mandate for HEs to try to upsell everyone things they didn't necessarily need. (This is the point at which I quit.)

But as was said then as well, most tech CEOs don't publicly get into this kind of shitfight with their users. They're horrid tyrants, but they don't do it this publicly.

ok tony that's enough. tell me what's actually happening

WordCamp US, one of the biggest WordPress industry events of the year, is the backdrop for all this. It just finished.

There are.... a lot of posts by Matt across multiple platforms because, as always, he can't log off. But here's the broad strokes.

Sep 17

Matt publishes a wanky blog post about companies that profit off open source without giving back. It targets a specific company, WP Engine.

Compare the Five For the Future pages from Automattic and WP Engine, two companies that are roughly the same size with revenue in the ballpark of half a billion. These pledges are just a proxy and aren’t perfectly accurate, but as I write this, Automattic has 3,786 hours per week (not even counting me!), and WP Engine has 47 hours. WP Engine has good people, some of whom are listed on that page, but the company is controlled by Silver Lake, a private equity firm with $102 billion in assets under management. Silver Lake doesn’t give a dang about your Open Source ideals. It just wants a return on capital. So it’s at this point that I ask everyone in the WordPress community to vote with your wallet. Who are you giving your money to? Someone who’s going to nourish the ecosystem, or someone who’s going to frack every bit of value out of it until it withers?

(It's worth noting here that Automattic is funded in part by BlackRock, who Wikipedia calls "the world's largest asset manager".)

Sep 20 (WCUS final day)

WP Engine puts out a blog post detailing their contributions to WordPress.

Matt devotes his keynote/closing speech to slamming WP Engine.

He also implies people inside WP Engine are sending him information.

For the people sending me stuff from inside companies, please do not do it on your work device. Use a personal phone, Signal with disappearing messages, etc. I have a bunch of journalists happy to connect you with as well. #wcus — Twitter I know private equity and investors can be brutal (read the book Barbarians at the Gate). Please let me know if any employee faces firing or retaliation for speaking up about their company's participation (or lack thereof) in WordPress. We'll make sure it's a big public deal and that you get support. — Tumblr

Matt also puts out an offer live at WordCamp US:

“If anyone of you gets in trouble for speaking up in favor of WordPress and/or open source, reach out to me. I’ll do my best to help you find a new job.” — source tweet, RTed by Matt

He also puts up a poll asking the community if WP Engine should be allowed back at WordCamps.

Sep 21

Matt writes a blog post on the WordPress.org blog (the official project blog!): WP Engine is not WordPress.

He opens this blog post by claiming his mom was confused and thought WP Engine was official.

The blog post goes on about how WP Engine disabled post revisions (which is a pretty normal thing to do when you need to free up some resources), therefore being not "real" WordPress. (As I said earlier, WordPress.com disables most features for Personal and Premium plans. Or whatever those plans are called, they've been renamed like 12 times in the last few years. But that's a different complaint.)

Sep 22: More bullshit on Twitter. Matt makes a Reddit post on r/Wordpress about WP Engine that promptly gets deleted. Writeups start to come out:

Search Engine Journal: WordPress Co-Founder Mullenweg Sparks Backlash

TechCrunch: Matt Mullenweg calls WP Engine a ‘cancer to WordPress’ and urges community to switch providers

Sep 23 onward

Okay, time zones mean I can't effectively sequence the rest of this.

Matt defends himself on Reddit, casually mentioning that WP Engine is now suing him.

Also here's a decent writeup from someone involved with the community that may be of interest.

WP Engine drops the full PDF of their cease and desist, which includes screenshots of Matt apparently threatening them via text.

Twitter link | Direct PDF link

This PDF includes some truly fucked texts where Matt appears to be trying to get WP Engine to pay him money unless they want him to tell his audience at WCUS that they're evil.

Matt, after saying he's been sued and can't talk about it, hosts a Twitter Space and talks about it for a couple hours.

He also continues to post on Reddit, Twitter, and on the Core contributor Slack.

Here's a comment where he says WP Engine could have avoided this by paying Automattic 8% of their revenue.

Another, 20 hours ago, where he says he's being downvoted by "trolls, probably WPE employees"

At some point, Matt updates the WordPress Foundation trademark policy. I am 90% sure this was him — it's not legalese and makes no fucking sense to single out WP Engine.

Old text: The abbreviation “WP” is not covered by the WordPress trademarks and you are free to use it in any way you see fit. New text: The abbreviation “WP” is not covered by the WordPress trademarks, but please don’t use it in a way that confuses people. For example, many people think WP Engine is “WordPress Engine” and officially associated with WordPress, which it’s not. They have never once even donated to the WordPress Foundation, despite making billions of revenue on top of WordPress.

Sep 25: Automattic puts up their own legal response.

anyway this fucking sucks

This is bigger than anything Matt's done before. I'm so worried about my friends who're still there. The internal ramifications have... been not great so far, including that Matt's naturally being extra gung-ho about "you're either for me or against me and if you're against me then don't bother working your two weeks".

Despite everything, I like WordPress. (If you dig into this, you'll see plenty of people commenting about blocks or Gutenberg or React other things they hate. Unlike many of the old FOSSheads, I actually also think Gutenberg/the block editor was a good idea, even if it was poorly implemented.)

I think that the original mission — to make it so anyone can spin up a website that's easy enough to use and blog with — is a good thing. I think, despite all the ways being part of FOSS communities since my early teens has led to all kinds of racist, homophobic and sexual harm for me and for many other people, that free and open-source software is important.

So many people were already burning out of the project. Matt has been doing this for so long that those with long memories can recite all the ways he's wrecked shit back a decade or more. Most of us are exhausted and need to make money to live. The world is worse than it ever was.

Social media sucks worse and worse, and this was a world in which people missed old webrings, old blogs, RSS readers, the world where you curated your own whimsical, unpaid corner of the Internet. I started actually actively using my own WordPress blog this year, and I've really enjoyed it.

And people don't want to deal with any of this.

The thing is, Matt's right about one thing: capital is ruining free open-source software. What he's wrong about is everything else: the idea that WordPress.com isn't enshittifying (or confusing) at a much higher rate than WP Engine, the idea that WP Engine or Silver Lake are the only big players in the field, the notion that he's part of the solution and not part of the problem.

But he's started a battle where there are no winners but the lawyers who get paid to duke it out, and all the volunteers who've survived this long in an ecosystem increasingly dominated by big money are giving up and leaving.

Anyway if you got this far, consider donating to someone on gazafunds.com. It'll take much less time than reading this did.

[seungkw1]

love me right — ksy

♡ pairing: roommate!hoshi x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni], humor ♡ wc: 4.1k ♡ warnings: oral (f. & m. receiving), unprotected piv sex (do not do this), multiple orgasms, a lil spit play, head pushing, thigh riding, somnophilia, cum eating/swallowing, cumming in pants, like 2 seconds of angst, praise kink, hs is down bad for reader, gendered pet names (baby, good girl, pretty girl, etc), bit of fluff at the end ♡ a/n: this is part 2 to make me !! finally got this written hope yall like <3

Ever since you sort-of-accidentally had sex with your roommate for the first time, he’s been nothing but a fucking menace. 

Not in a bad way - no, despite the fact that he's kind of an actual insane person he's always been and continues to be a very considerate and agreeable roommate. There's no problem with your living arrangements. 

The problem is how fucking insatiable he has become. 

You previously never thought there could be such a thing as too many orgasms, but Soonyoung really is testing your limits. You've never had so much sex in your life - and you're not mad about it by any means. But your roommate-turned-friend with benefits is absolutely, utterly, wholeheartedly obsessed with having his entire face buried in your pussy at all possible times. And you love every second of it. 

Sure, sometimes your clit kinda feels like it's gonna fall off. Most of the time you've barely recovered from the last set of two, three, four orgasms (the current record is six, a record he's determined to beat) before he’s back between your legs again. But the constant cunnilingus leaves you more sensitive than ever before - and the more you squirm beneath his tongue and scream and cry as he takes you to paradise, the more it gets him off. One time you were wailing his name so much that he actually came in his pants, fully hands-free. The man simply worships you. 

You've had various kink-related conversations over the past couple months of nonstop boinking, as these things come up. You wouldn't necessarily say Soonyoung is into anything too crazy (besides the occasional burst of tiger roleplay, anyway), but so far he's been enthusiastically down for everything you've expressed interest in. He’s the very definition of matching one’s freak. 

“You know what would be hot?” Soonyoung asks you one day, approximately two minutes after you woke up and emerged from your room.

“Good morning to you too,” you tell him through a sleepy yawn.

“What if,” he continues anyway, “hypothetically, I were to wake you up one day by eating you out?”

“Soonyoung is it nine in the morning,” you reply as you give him a dull glare. You go to make yourself a cup of coffee, but he extends a full mug to you. You take the cup - it’s fresh, piping hot. 

“Oh, thanks,” you say, surprised by the kind gesture.

“So?” he prods, eagerly awaiting your reply.

“I mean, yeah, I wouldn’t be mad about that,” you answer with a small shrug.

“NOICE,” he exclaims, pumping his fist in the air.

“BUT-” you quickly add. “That cannot be an everyday thing.”

“Right, of course not,” he agrees with a nod. “Soooo, when can I try it?”

“Well, I can’t tell you that,” you reply straightforwardly. “It’s supposed to be a surprise, that would like, defeat the whole point.”

A wide grin spreads across his face, but he shakes it off right away, playing it cool. 

“Okay cool, well I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, grabbing your hand and shaking it vigorously. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

You roll your eyes at him. 

“You’re so fucking stupid,” you gibe, but your face cracks into a smile. He pulls you in and kisses you. 

“Love you too.”

You freeze. 

You may have been intimate with him more times than you can count, but your relationship is strictly casual. You only kiss when you're fucking, and the words I love you have never once been uttered by either of you. You know he probably was saying it facetiously, but the way he said it was so nonchalant. So… realistic. You stare at him for a second, not knowing how to respond. His smile slowly drops. 

“Oh, sorry,” he apologizes. His ears immediately turn red with embarrassment. 

“No no it’s fine,” you babble, trying to backtrack. “I just wasn't expecting…”

“I was just kidding,” he responds. Then his eyes widen. “I mean not like that, it's not that-”

“It’s fine!!” you quickly interject before he can say anything else. “I know what you mean.”

“Sorry,” he murmurs again. He suddenly realizes he's still holding onto your hand - he swiftly lets go. 

“Thanks for the coffee,” you tell him politely with a smile, trying to change the subject. 

“Of course,” he replies, trying to smile back at you, but you can tell he's still sulky. He departs from the kitchen without saying another word. He emerges from his room about a minute later in athletic gear, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Off to workout already? I thought you were going this afternoon” you inquire, but he's already breezing past you. 

“Yeah, Mingyu just texted me and wanted to meet earlier,” he answers as he grabs his keys. 

It’s a bad lie, and you both know it. But you don't press him further. 

“Okay, have fun!” you say cheerfully. But an air of tension remains. 

“Thanks,” he replies, turning back to glance at you for only a brief second. 

“Hey,” you say softly. “Soonyo-”

He's out the door before you have a chance to finish even saying his name. 

You stand there for a few moments, staring at the front door, wondering if you've just fucked everything up. You didn't mean to, of course. You were just so taken aback by the stupid L word. It's not something you ever expected to hear coming from Soonyoung’s lips, not about you anyways. But now it has you thinking. Was he simply joking around? Or does he actually have… feelings for you?

A small blip of a thought enters your mind: and do you have feelings for him?

You push it away before you can think about it any further. 

The next few days are undoubtedly a bit awkward. Soonyoung is clearly avoiding you - not in a malicious way, but he just so happens to have business elsewhere whenever you're at home. 

You're mildly annoyed, but more so you're feeling gloomy about the whole situation. You never meant to do anything to push him away - near-constant fucking aside, Soonyoung truly is a good friend. And now you find yourself missing him. 

After an entire week of this nonsense, you decide to confront him. You pretend to be going to sleep, anticipating that he’ll spend some time alone in the common area. A few minutes later your hunch is confirmed when you hear the tv come on, its volume low. You quietly open your door and sneak into the living room. You approach the couch slowly from behind - when you arrive at it, you jump around and plop down next to Soonyoung. 

“FUCK,” he yelps, nearly jumping out of his seat.  “You scared me!”

“I'm horny,” you tell him bluntly, scooting up next to him. “Let me suck your dick.”

Soonyoung stares at you, looking into your eyes that are now mere inches from his. You can tell he desperately wants to say yes, but he resists. You give him a flirty look, trying to entice him. 

“Pleaseeeee?”

“Well, I was gonna watch a movie…” his sentence trails off, unfinished. He tries to shift his focus away from you, but his eyes keep flickering back to yours. 

“Seriously?” you ask, crossing your arms. “Since when do you turn down head?” 

“Y/n…”

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn't. 

“Yes?”

He looks you in the eyes again, then sighs. 

“I dunno, I’m just not in the mood right now,” he finally answers. He looks away sullenly. 

“Are you okay?”

He looks back at you. He clearly wants to tell you something, but he hesitates. 

“About the other day…” he finally speaks. He pauses, in case you have something to say. You don’t; he continues.

“I didn't mean to make things weird. When I said that I loved you.”

“You didn't,” you assure him. You note that he didn’t say anything about it not being true, but you try to ignore that right now. 

You take his hand in yours, patting it softly. He looks at you, surprised by the gesture. 

“I was being weird, that's on me.”

His mood cautiously lightens. “You sure?” he verifies. 

“100%,” you say with a nod. He smiles at you. 

“Now will you please put your dick in my mouth?” you request again, looking into his eyes seductively.  

A smile creeps onto his face. 

“I mean if you're gonna be this fucking hot…”

You give him a mischievous smirk. You tug at his tshirt; he immediately takes it off. He groans as you grab his dick through his sweatpants, his cock starting to harden instantly in response. One thing about Soonyoung - you can do the bare minimum and he’ll have a boner within five seconds. You lick your lips, stroking him slowly through the soft gray fabric. He lets out a deep exhale, relieved by your touch - it had only been a week, but he missed you badly. He craved your touch, craved how insane you make him feel. He drops his head back, his legs spreading as he settles into the couch, shifting his pelvis up so you have full access to his groin. You rub your hand over the thick bulge, squeezing and pulling lightly, causing him to let out a pathetic-sounding moan. He is putty in your hands. 

About a minute more of your over-the-pants handjob and Soonyoung is rock fucking hard. You slide off the couch, taking to your knees between his spread thighs. You pull at the elastic waistband, tugging it down over the pulsating bulge in his underwear. You place your mouth on him through the fabric, letting him feel your lips, your hot breath on him. 

“Stop teasing me,” he begs after you plant several more kisses on his clothed dick. “Please.”

You gaze up at him, your eyes filled with lust. You reach into his underwear, retrieving his cock, prompting further pathetic moaning. He is leaking with precum - you take him in your fist, stroking up and down at a pace that he finds painfully slow. You place your lips atop the head, lightly sucking up his juices. He cries out as you then swirl your tongue over his tip.

“Aaaah,” he groans, his voice turning gravelly.

You grab his balls and take the rest of the head into your mouth. You hollow your cheeks as you begin sucking on it slowly - each motion of your lips long and drawn out. Saliva accumulates in the back of your mouth - and an overwhelming wetness accumulates in your underwear.

You draw your head back, gazing up at Soonyoung submissively. You collect your saliva, spitting it onto his cock - it trickles downwards. Wrapping your hand around his girth you spread it over his full length, coating his cock with your spit. 

“Oh wow,” he mutters, nearly going cross eyed. You take his cock in your mouth once more, swallowing more and more of him until his entire length is down your throat. 

“Goddamn baby,” he growls as you bottom out. You begin to bob your head, sucking him off. The sounds being made right now are grotesque - slurping and gagging from you, moaning and grunting from him. But it's only turning you on even more. 

“Ohh that's a good girl,” he grumbles as he pets your hair. You increase your pace - saliva coats your lips, dripping down your chin, spreading across your face. The utterly sloppy head has Soonyoung writhing beneath you, babbling unintelligibly as his orgasm draws near. 

“Feels so good baby.” 

“Fuck you’re so hot.”

“Pretty girl sucking my cock so good right now.” 

His other hand ventures to your head, holding you down as his hips jerk and shake. Your throat aches from him fucking it, your eyes well with tears - but your clit throbbing against the stickiness that has flooded your panties proves how much you fucking love this. 

“Ohhhhhmygoddddd,” he groans through gritted teeth. “Fuuuuck, y/n… I’m gonna cum…”

He pushes your head down as he releases, giving you several hard thrusts as his cum spurts down your throat. You let him fill you up, eagerly swallowing each burst of his load. His hips slow as his climax wanes. His arms plop onto the couch cushions, his body sinking into the sofa as his body relaxes. He drags one hand to your face, grasping your jaw gently as he slowly pulls you off of his sensitive throbbing cock. He wants to look at you so bad, see that pretty little face with those pretty swollen lips covered in both your juices - but his energy is too drained to even lift his head. 

“C’mere,” he pleads softly. 

You pull yourself back up onto the couch, pressing your body closely against his. You lay your head on his shoulder as your fingertips delicately trace up and down his cock - it pulsates at your touch. 

He turns his head to face you, his nose brushing up against yours. He lifts one hand, tenderly cradling your cheek. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice low and husky. 

You feel a pang deep in your stomach. You've been scared to admit it this whole time, but at this point it's undeniable: you are falling in love with your roommate. And god do you want to kiss him. 

“Yes,” you whisper, the word hot and breathy against his lips lingering before yours. 

Soonyoung grabs your face with both hands, pulling you deep into his kiss. His lips hungrily lock onto yours, his body stilling except for his chest, rising and falling with slow, heaving breaths. He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you, holding you tightly, refusing to allow any physical space between you two. You want to stay here for all of eternity.

Slowly, your mouths part - he gives your bottom lip a few more tugs before letting go. His forehead rests against yours, both of you exhaling deeply in tandem. His hands drop to your waist, touching you gently as the warmth of his breath greets your face. He looks into your eyes as he holds you. 

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”

You nod. Quickly tucking his remaining erection back into his sweats, he takes your hands and pulls you up with him, kissing you with each step as you stumble together into your room. You plop onto your bed, pulling Soonyoung on top of you. He rolls over, holding you snugly against him, your legs tangling together as he starts making out with you again. Your aching cunt presses against his thigh as you wrap your legs around him; you begin to grind your hips slowly.

“Wait,” he pauses. He reaches for your shorts, sliding your pajamas and panties off of you. You kick them the rest of the way off, discarding them somewhere on the bed, your shirt quickly joining them. He yanks his own pants off; you straddle his thigh again, your soaked cunt greeting his skin. 

“Oh my god,” he groans. “It’s so fucking wet.”

Your hips begin again, dragging your pussy up and down his thigh, your juices spreading everywhere. You whimper at the stimulation, riding Soonyoung’s thick muscular quads as he wraps his arms around your torso. You cling to him as he draws you in close, his mouth wandering to your neck to plant a string of small kisses on the delicate skin. Ceaseless moans escape you as a fire builds in your gut, the burning pleasure of your climax rapidly approaching. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you cry out as you frantically get yourself off on Soonyoung’s thigh. You feel his cock growing hard again - it presses into your belly as it strains against the fabric of his underwear. 

“Cum for me babe,” his low voice speaks softly into your ear. 

Desperately grinding your pussy on his thigh, you finally release. You scream his name as you cum, legs trembling as your body shakes with vigor. Soonyoung holds you tight, kissing your cheek lovingly as you orgasm in his arms. 

“That's my girl,” he murmurs as he kisses your lips. You begin to come down, but your head is still spinning from the overwhelming stimulation. You try to catch your breath, slowing your breathing as Soonyoung rubs your back - but his touch and the warmth of his body sends you into a deep state of relaxation. He whispers something else to you, but before you can even process what he's saying, you are fast asleep. 

You’re awoken the next morning by loud, moaning cries.

Still half asleep, you begin to register a familiar bodily sensation. Only when you pry your eyes open and see Soonyoung situated between your legs, do you realize you’re the one moaning. His face is buried in your pussy, licking you slowly, tasting you, savoring every moment of having his tongue in your cunt. 

He lifts his eyes, noticing that you’re now conscious.

“Soonyoung what the fu- ohhh,” you question, but are cut off by his lips attaching themselves to your clit. 

“Good morning beautiful,” he mumbles into your cunt, refusing to take his mouth of you for a second. 

“Oh my god,” you groan. “I forgot I told you you could do this.”

He pauses, looking up at you. 

“Do you want me to stop-”

“NO,” you shout, louder than you meant. You lift your hips, putting your folds back in his mouth. He smiles into your cunt, eagerly resuming eating you out.

“Good,” he replies, barely audible as his tongue begins working into your hole again. 

Your back arches as his nose presses into your clit, making it throb desperately. He flattens his tongue, licking you all the way up, then swirling around the sensitive bud. 

“Ahhh,” you cry out involuntarily. “You’re gonna make me cum already.”

This only eggs him on further. He wraps his arms around your thighs, grasping you tightly as the tip of his tongue quickly flicks over your clit.

“How- fuck, how long have you been down there?”

He glances up at you again, sticking his tongue out exaggeratedly as he continues licking you. 

“I dunno, like five minutes maybe.”

“Five?!” you proclaim as your head falls back onto the pillow. You run your fingers through his hair. “That’s it?”

Soonyoung smirks, planting several kisses on your pussy. 

“You were already soaking wet when I got here,” he informs you. “Must’ve been dreaming about me.”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” you pretend to be annoyed with him, but the moans escaping from your lips undermine your facade. 

“C’mon, you like it,” he teases.

“Yeah,” you admit. “I do.”

He grins widely. “Good girl.”

His praise and the way his tongue is now circling your clit send you over the edge. You whine as your orgasm approaches - loud, pathetic sounds filling the air as he sucks and slurps between your thighs. 

“Don’t stop,” you beg. 

The sensation builds and builds, making you squirm beneath him as every nerve in your body erupts with overwhelming delight.

“Oh fuck- I’m cumming,” you shriek as you reach your high. You cum on his tongue, long and hard - riding out your orgasm on his face accompanied by loud, unabashed cries of pleasure. As your body starts to relax, you release the tight grip you didn’t realize you had on his hair, stroking his head as he softly laps up your release. 

“Come here,” you tell him softly, but he doesn’t move. He seems to be even more relaxed than you are right now.

“Just a second,” he responds through deep breaths, his body sinking into the bed.

“Oh my god, did you…”

“Cum in my pants again?” he finishes your question for you. “Yeah. I did.”

He lifts his head, his eyes glazed over in post-orgasm bliss. 

“You’re so hot, I couldn’t help it,” he says with an amused grin.

Finally able to move, he rises - his underwear visibly filled with cum. He crawls back up to you, plopping onto his back right beside you. He peels the ruined underwear off, tossing them aside, then stares down at his own mess.

“Lemme just, um…” 

He goes to get up, intending to go clean himself off, but you pull him back onto the bed.

“I got it.”

You scoot yourself down, positioning your face near his groin. Slowly you begin to lick his own cum off of him.

“Jesus fuck, y/n,” he groans, his voice deep and low. “You’re filthy.”

“Don’t act like you don’t think this is hot.”

“Oh I do,” he says proudly. “Very fucking hot.”

He strokes your hair as you clean him up. As you finish he pulls you back up, laying you on top of him as he wraps his arms around you once more. Both of you are sweaty, and the embrace is nearly too warm - but neither of you want to move. 

You lay there in silence, your head tucked comfortably into his shoulder, peacefully listening to the songbirds chirping as warm morning sunlight filters into the room through the blinds. Soonyoung is breathing so steadily that you think he's fallen asleep underneath you, but eventually you hear your name softly muttered from his lips. 

“Hey, y/n?”

“Hmm?” you reply sleepily without moving. Soonyoung caresses your back, dragging his fingertips gently up and down over the soft skin. 

“What are we?”

You lift your head, propping yourself up by your elbow. You look down at Soonyoung - he gazes up at you, waiting for your response.

“I don’t know,” you answer after thinking for a moment. “What do you want us to be?”

He reaches for your face, stroking your cheek gently. 

“I wasn’t lying the other day.” He stares into your eyes. Despite the fact that he literally just had his face buried in your pussy, it feels overwhelmingly intimate. Your stomach churns anxiously.

“I really do love you.”

You knew he was going to say it, but your heart skips a beat anyway. Hearing him say it out loud, hearing him confess his love to you - it’s a thought that previously scared you. But you no longer fear confronting this reality. Now that you’re here, it feels comfortable, it feels right. 

“I’m sorry if that makes things weird between us, but it’s the truth,” he says timidly. “I just can’t deny it any longe-”

You cut him off with a kiss. 

You kiss him for far too long - but it’s never long enough. When your lips part at last, you gaze at him lovingly, a big, cheesy grin growing upon your face.

“I love you too, dummy.”

He stares back at you, mouth agape. He finally processes your words, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Really??” he asks you in awe. 

“Really really,” you nod.

He embraces you with explosive enthusiasm, making you yelp as he rolls over on top of you. You giggle as he gives you a series of rapidly-placed kisses all over your face. 

“Stop itttt,” you cry through your laughter. “That tickles!”

“Sorry,” he says with a big goofy smile. “I’m just really excited.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you say as you grab his boner that has quickly returned.

He beams at you. “What can I say, you make my dick happy.”

“God, you’re such a dork,” you tell him as you roll your eyes. But you guide his tip to your entrance, shifting your hips to take him inside you.

“Ohh fuuuuck,” he mumbles, his eyes rolling back into his head. He starts slowly sliding his overstimulated cock into you, grunting when his whole length is inside. He rests, unmoving.

“You good?” you ask him.

“Yeah, just trying not to cum immediately,” he says, grinning.

“Soonyoung, you are crazy.”

“Crazy for you,” he says with a kiss. 

You spend the rest of the day in bed together, making out, fucking, napping - anything, so long as you don’t have to leave his side. Soonyoung, being Soonyoung, tells you he loves you no fewer than 12 more times.

“So,” he asks as you intertwine your fingers with his, holding hands after he goes down on you for probably the fourth time today. “Does this mean I can call you my girlfriend now?”

You try to answer, but you’re trying to catch your breath after your millionth orgasm. 

“Hmmmm?” he pesters.

“Gimme a… fucking second…” you mumble, pushing him away playfully. He gets right back in your face.

“I’m not hearing no…” he says, kissing your nose.

“Oh my god, yes, Soonyoung. The answer is yes.”

He grins from ear to ear, then wraps his entire body around yours, clinging to you like a koala.

“Yayyyy!" he replies as he nuzzles his face into you. 

“You know,” he says after a few moments of silence. “I’m pretty hungry…”

“You better mean real food this time,” you tell him sternly. “I don’t think I could handle any more orgasms today.”

“Yes, real food,” he chuckles. “Shall I order delivery from that Thai place you like?”

“Yes please, I’m fucking starving.”

“You got it, baby.”

[callsigns-haze]

His Shadow: Chp 7

masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

Azriel, secretly juggling his responsibilities and personal life, maintains a hidden relationship with YN, who works at a pleasure house in the Hewn City. She was his light, his love, his passion. Yet being his darkest secret is a hard role because life in the Hewn as a young female isn't the easiest as the two of you hold an even dark secret yet to be told...

Pairing: Azriel x reader

This series contains mature themes: Explicit depictions of violence, including physical and emotional. Themes of secrecy. Descriptions of difficult relationships, including strained familial and romantic dynamics. Mature sexual content. Themes of power, control, and manipulation within complex interpersonal relationships. Discussions of parenthood and the challenges associated with it, including postpartum experiences

Azriel returned to work the following week, but the moment he stepped into the River House, the atmosphere shifted. The usual ease that surrounded him had been replaced with something colder, darker. His shadows clung closer to him than usual, swirling in restless patterns around his frame, a reflection of the tension simmering beneath the surface. He was always a quiet presence, but today, there was a weight to his silence that everyone in the room could feel.

He didn’t greet anyone as he entered the main hall where the Inner Circle was gathered. Rhysand, Cassian, and Mor were deep in conversation, their laughter dying down when they noticed him. Feyre, seated by the window with a book in her lap, looked up from her reading, her brows knitting together in concern as she sensed the shift in his energy.

Azriel’s golden-brown eyes scanned the room, taking in each of their faces, but he said nothing. His usual mask of calm and control was firmly in place, but there was a hardness in his jaw, a tightness in his shoulders that betrayed the anger simmering beneath the surface.

Rhys was the first to speak, his voice casual but laced with a hint of wariness, as if he sensed the storm brewing beneath Azriel’s controlled exterior.

“Azriel, you’re back. Everything alright?”

Azriel’s gaze flickered to Rhys for a moment, his expression unreadable. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice flat, devoid of the warmth that usually colored his interactions with his High Lord and brother. He didn’t bother with pleasantries or explanations. He crossed the room with a purposeful stride, heading toward the large oak table where papers and maps of the Illyrian war camps were spread out. His movements were precise, methodical, but the tension in his body was unmistakable.

Cassian and Mor exchanged a quick glance. Cassian, always the one to break the silence, leaned back in his chair, trying for a lighthearted approach. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, brother. Rough week off?”

Azriel didn’t answer immediately. He focused on the map in front of him, his hands moving with practiced ease as he made a small adjustment to one of the marked positions. The silence stretched for a moment too long, thick with unspoken words. His shadows, usually so controlled, twined more erratically around his hands, curling like smoke over the parchment.

“It was fine,” Azriel finally replied, his tone clipped, as if that would be the end of it.

But it wasn’t.

Everyone could feel it—an undercurrent of anger, or perhaps frustration, that Azriel was working hard to bury. It wasn’t like him to let emotions get the better of him, but something had shifted in him during his time away. He was always a fortress, a man of shadows and secrets, but today, that fortress seemed more impenetrable than ever.

Feyre closed her book, her voice soft but cautious. “Azriel… if something’s wrong—”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he cut her off, his voice sharper than he intended. His eyes flashed as he glanced at her, realizing too late that his irritation had slipped through the cracks in his carefully constructed mask. He let out a slow breath, forcing the tension in his body to ease, at least outwardly.

Rhys raised an eyebrow, not pressing further, but his gaze lingered on Azriel, studying him. They had known each other for centuries—there was little that could be hidden between them. Rhys knew something was off, even if Azriel wouldn’t admit it. But pushing wouldn’t help. Not yet.

Cassian, sensing the shift, tried again. “You sure? You’re wound tighter than a drum, brother.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched. He knew Cassian was trying to lighten the mood, but it wasn’t working. Everything in him screamed to confront them—to demand answers about the spying on YN, about their constant presence in Hewn City. But he didn’t. Confrontation would only bring their secret crashing down, and he couldn’t afford that.

So instead, he stayed silent, letting the tension coil inside him like a tightly wound spring. He continued to scan the maps and documents in front of him, forcing his mind to focus on the task at hand, but it was a losing battle. His thoughts kept drifting back to YN, to Knox, to the spying, to the way Rhys and Cassian had been watching her at the pleasure house.

The room grew quieter, the air thick with the tension everyone was pretending wasn’t there. Even Mor, usually so full of energy and warmth, seemed unsure of how to break the ice.

Rhys sighed, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “Azriel, if you need more time—”

“I don’t,” Azriel interrupted, his tone final. “I’m here. Let’s get to work.”

His words left no room for further questions, and though Rhys and Cassian exchanged another glance, they respected his silence—for now.

But as Azriel moved through the motions of the day, reading reports, discussing strategies, and mapping out potential missions, the weight of the unspoken truths lingered. The anger, the frustration, the protectiveness he felt for YN and Knox—it all simmered beneath the surface, ready to erupt.

No one said anything, but they all felt it. Azriel’s anger wasn’t directed at them—not exactly. It was the situation, the impossibility of keeping his family safe while maintaining the secrecy he had so carefully built. The Inner Circle didn’t know it, but they were walking on thin ice, and Azriel was holding himself back from shattering it.

That evening, the tension from earlier still lingered in the air, but Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel decided to return to the pleasure house in Hewn City. It had become an oddly routine visit for them since Azriel first suggested the place weeks ago, and tonight, though there was a storm brewing inside him, Azriel forced himself to follow along. It was better than sitting alone, brooding on things he couldn’t yet fix.

They landed just outside the dark, glittering entrance of the pleasure house. The usual lights flickered along the ornate arches, and the murmur of voices inside could be heard, thick with a mix of laughter and quiet conversation. Rhys opened the door with a casual ease, and they were greeted by the familiar scent of perfume and the low thrum of music in the background.

The three of them settled into their usual booth, a secluded corner where they could have privacy despite the bustling atmosphere around them. Cassian ordered drinks, and they fell into conversation about the war camps, the strategies they had discussed earlier in the day. But even as the others talked, Azriel’s mind was somewhere else.

The entire time, his eyes kept drifting toward the entrance to the back room, where YN usually worked. He hadn’t seen her yet, and something about it unsettled him. She was supposed to be here—she had mentioned her shift this morning, hadn’t she?

Finally, after some time had passed and YN still hadn’t made an appearance, Azriel couldn’t ignore the growing unease gnawing at him. His shadows stirred, as if sensing his concern, whispering around him in silent confusion. He caught the eye of one of the waiters walking by their booth, gesturing for him to come over.

“Where’s YN?” Azriel asked, his tone casual, but there was an edge of urgency he couldn’t quite hide. “She was supposed to be working tonight.”

The waiter, a tall, thin male with pale skin and sharp features, blinked at him in surprise. “YN? She didn’t come in tonight,” he replied, his voice soft but filled with uncertainty. “I’m not sure why. There’s been no word from her, and… well, without her, the pleasure section of the house isn’t being properly run.”

Azriel’s brows furrowed at the response, his stomach sinking slightly. “She didn’t show up at all?”

“No,” the waiter confirmed, glancing nervously between the three powerful males in the booth. “It’s been chaotic. She’s the one who manages the more… intimate services here, and without her presence, things are a bit—disorganized.”

Azriel’s mind raced. YN was meticulous about her work—she never missed a shift, especially not without warning. She hadn’t mentioned any change in her plans that morning when they spoke. If anything, she had seemed resigned to going to work, despite how much he hated her returning so soon after Knox’s birth.

“Thank you,” Azriel said, dismissing the waiter. His shadows curled tighter around him, reacting to his growing confusion.

Azriel’s shadows clung to him tighter, a swirling mass of anxiety as they walked through the dark streets of Velaris. He kept his pace quick, but not quick enough to draw more suspicion from Cassian and Rhys, who followed behind him. Every step felt like a weight in his chest, his mind consumed with thoughts of YN and why she hadn’t shown up to work.

“Where exactly are we going?” Cassian asked, his tone casual but with a hint of curiosity. His wings flared slightly, catching the cool night air.

“To check on something,” Azriel muttered, not breaking his stride. He didn’t want to tell them more. He couldn’t. Not yet.

Rhys’s gaze was sharp as ever, watching Azriel closely. “You’re worried about her,” he said, more as a statement than a question.

Azriel’s jaw clenched. He could feel the weight of Rhys’s violet eyes on him, probing, trying to read deeper into his actions. His shadows rippled with unease, but he didn’t slow down. “She didn’t show up for work. It’s unlike her,” he replied, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Cassian glanced over at Rhys with a raised brow. “You’re this worked up over someone skipping a shift?”

“She’s reliable,” Azriel said, his voice sharper than intended. “Something’s off.”

Cassian and Rhys exchanged a glance, their curiosity piqued, but neither of them pushed harder for details. They continued walking in silence, though Azriel could feel their unspoken questions hanging in the air. It was unlike him to be this open with his concern, especially about someone they didn’t know. It wouldn’t be long before they pressed him for more information, but for now, they followed.

Azriel’s shadows stretched out ahead of him, sensing the path to the apartment. His heart was pounding, every instinct telling him to fly ahead, to get there faster, but he couldn’t afford to tip them off. Not when everything felt so fragile.

Rhys broke the silence, his voice calm but laced with curiosity. “So, who is she to you, Az?”

Azriel’s lips pressed into a thin line, his shadows tightening around him protectively. He wasn’t ready to answer that question. Not now. “Just someone I work with,” he replied coolly, though even he knew how weak the excuse sounded.

Cassian let out a low whistle. “You’re acting like she’s more than that.”

Azriel didn’t respond, his steps quickening as they neared the apartment. His mind was racing, and he could feel the tension coiling tighter in his chest. He needed to get to YN. He needed to make sure she was alright.

When they finally reached the street, Azriel stopped, turning to face Cassian and Rhys. The apartment was just ahead, and he wasn’t ready for them to know—wasn’t ready for them to see.

“I’ll handle this from here,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Rhys tilted his head, his expression unreadable, but there was something knowing in his eyes. “You sure about that?”

Azriel held his gaze, not flinching. “I’m sure.”

Cassian looked ready to argue, but Rhys placed a hand on his shoulder, silently telling him to stand down. “Alright,” Rhys finally said, though his eyes lingered on Azriel for a moment longer. “We’ll wait here.”

Azriel gave them a curt nod, though his heart was still racing. He could feel the weight of their eyes on him as he turned, heading toward the apartment alone. His shadows swirled around him, and though he kept his face impassive, inside, the panic was clawing at him.

He had to get to YN. He had to know she was safe.

---

YN’s heart pounded in her chest as she heard the angry voices just outside the door. She hadn’t been expecting anyone—certainly not the five men she could now see through the small peephole, all armed with knives and swords. Their menacing glares sent a wave of fear crashing over her, but she pushed it down, her instincts taking over.

Knox.

Her thoughts flew to her son. She moved quickly, grabbing the tiny three-week-old from his crib and rushing to the closet. Inside, there was a basket filled with blankets—Azriel had used it before to hide things in plain sight. She carefully placed Knox in it, her heart clenching as he made a small sound. "Shh, sweet boy," she whispered, her voice trembling but firm. "Stay quiet for Mama."

Once she pushed the basket to the back, she grabbed a clothes hook and quietly wrapped it around the closet door, securing it as best as she could. She prayed it would be enough to buy them time. She wasn’t sure how much time they had, but she had to defend her son, herself—everything she had left.

Her fingers brushed against the cool steel of one of Azriel’s knives. He always made sure she had at least one hidden in the apartment, just in case. She gripped it tightly, her palms sweating, but there was no room for hesitation now. Her other hand went for the large pan in the kitchen—a ridiculous weapon, but Azriel had taught her that defense meant distraction first, striking with the most unexpected object.

Her shadows stirred around her, curling and writhing in anticipation, feeding off her fear and anger. It was their little secret, the shadows. No one knew she had them. Not even Azriel. She had kept them hidden, a part of herself she never let surface, but now—now she needed them.

The door slammed open with a thunderous crash. The men charged in, their faces twisted in fury. YN's heart raced, but she didn’t freeze. She acted.

The first man lunged toward her, knife raised high, but YN swung the pan with all her strength. The clang of metal on metal rang out as the pan hit the knife from his hand. He stumbled back, shocked, giving her enough time to drive Azriel’s knife into his side. He let out a pained grunt, eyes wide, before collapsing.

The second man charged her with a sword, but YN’s shadows snapped to life, dark tendrils wrapping around his legs, tripping him just enough for her to slam the pan against his head. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious. Her shadows retreated, swirling back into her, but they were weak—too weak to keep fighting like this.

Two down.

Her chest heaved as she turned to face the rest. These men were stronger, larger, and they weren’t going to fall for her tricks so easily. The third man, faster than the others, dodged her swing and grabbed her wrist, twisting it painfully until she dropped the knife. She tried to use her shadows again, tried to summon them with more force, but they sputtered, flickering weakly as the man backhanded her across the face.

She stumbled, her vision going black for a moment as pain exploded across her cheek. She tasted blood, but she couldn’t stop. Knox. She had to protect Knox.

The fourth man kicked her hard in the stomach, sending her crashing to the floor. She gasped, the wind knocked out of her, but her mind screamed at her to get up. She clawed at the floor, trying to reach for something—anything—but the fifth man grabbed her by the throat.

Cold, rough hands squeezed around her neck, and YN’s world spun as she was lifted off the ground and slammed back down. Her head hit the floor, dazing her, but the worst part was the grip around her throat tightening, cutting off her air. She gasped, her fingers clawing at his hands, desperate for breath. Her shadows flickered again, weak and useless. She couldn’t focus—couldn’t control them in this state.

Her vision blurred as the man leaned over her, sneering. "Stupid girl," he hissed, his grip tightening as black spots danced in her vision. The world was slipping away, her strength failing as she gasped desperately for air.

But even as the darkness closed in, YN’s thoughts were with Knox. She could hear him, small and quiet, rustling in the closet. He needed her.

---

Azriel’s heart raced as he neared the apartment, the shadows around him twitching with anxiety. He had been about to open the door when he heard the sounds of a violent struggle from inside—a cacophony of grunts, crashes, and muffled cries. His pulse hammered in his ears. It was YN. He knew it instantly.

“Rhys! Cassian!” he shouted, his voice echoing down the empty street. His urgency was raw, fear clawing at his insides. They had been waiting outside, but now, he needed them.

Rhys and Cassian came running, their faces taut with concern. “What’s happening?” Rhys asked, but before Azriel could answer, the three of them burst through the door.

The sight that met them was horrifying. YN was on the floor, her face twisted in pain, her hands clawing desperately at the man strangling her. The other men were scattered, injured but not out. Azriel’s rage surged as he took in the scene.

Without a second thought, Azriel dove into the fray. His shadows lashed out, extending like living whips to entangle the nearest attacker. The man staggered, his weapon slipping from his grasp as Azriel’s shadows tightened around him, pulling him away from YN.

Cassian was quick to join, his wings flaring as he threw himself at one of the attackers with a roar. His movements were a blur of strength and precision, and the man he targeted barely had time to react before Cassian’s fists and kicks overwhelmed him. The man went down hard, crumpling to the floor.

Rhys, meanwhile, moved with a grace and lethality that left no room for hesitation. He focused on the fourth attacker, his eyes sharp as he dodged a blade aimed at him. With a swift flick of his wrist, Rhys disarmed the man and delivered a decisive blow that sent him sprawling.

But the fifth man—still holding YN—was the greatest threat. Azriel’s vision narrowed as he saw YN’s struggling form beneath him. Anger surged through him, fueling his movements. He lunged at the man, tackling him with all the force of his shadowed power.

The man grunted in surprise, losing his grip on YN momentarily. Azriel seized the opportunity, tearing the man’s hands away from YN’s throat with a savage strength. The man twisted and fought back, but Azriel’s rage was like a force of nature. He threw the man against the wall, sending him crashing down, but he didn’t stop there.

Cassian and Rhys were already on the remaining attackers, their movements synchronized and brutal. Cassian had managed to pin one man to the ground, delivering a series of calculated blows, while Rhys’s elegant strikes were precise, disarming and incapacitating with deadly efficiency.

Azriel stayed by YN’s side, his heart pounding as he gently held her hand. Rhys moved efficiently around the room, assisting with the attackers and making sure the area was secure. The tension in the room was palpable as Azriel’s gaze remained fixed on YN, willing her to wake.

Minutes felt like hours as he waited, but finally, YN’s eyelids fluttered open. Her gaze was unfocused, but she managed to lift her trembling hand, pointing weakly towards the closet. Her lips moved, though no words came out. Azriel’s breath hitched as he followed her gaze, his eyes locking onto the closet where Knox had been hidden.

“YN, where’s Knox?” Azriel asked, his voice tight with worry. But her eyes were focused on the closet, her small, desperate gesture the only direction he had.

He turned to the closet, his fingers shaking as he fumbled with the clothes hook she had used to secure it. It was a clever move, one he had to admit, and the hook was proving to be stubborn. Azriel’s frustration grew, but he fought to stay calm. His heart ached with every second that ticked by.

Rhys knelt beside YN, his expression a mix of concern and determination. “Azriel, be careful. If she moves around too much, she could cause herself serious injury,” Rhys said firmly, his hand gently pressing YN back down to the floor. “We need to keep her as still as possible until we can get a healer here.”

Azriel nodded, focusing intently on the hook. After a few tense moments, he managed to pry it free and pull open the closet door. The sight that greeted him—a small, terrified baby wrapped in blankets—was both a relief and a fresh wave of anxiety.

With trembling hands, Azriel reached into the closet and carefully lifted Knox out of the basket. The baby’s tiny face was scrunched up in a frown, but Azriel’s soothing presence seemed to calm him. He cradled Knox close, his voice a soft murmur as he whispered, “Shhh, Daddy’s here.”

Knox made a small, inquisitive sound but settled against his father’s chest, finding comfort in the warmth. Azriel’s heart ached with relief and love as he held his son. He glanced back at YN, who was watching him with exhausted but relieved eyes.

Cassian, who had just finished dealing with the remaining attackers, joined them. His eyes widened in shock as he saw Azriel holding Knox, the tiny baby resting peacefully in his arms. Rhys stood nearby, his expression a mix of awe and concern.

“Azriel, I didn’t know…” Cassian began, but the words trailed off as he looked between YN, Azriel, and the baby.

Rhys placed a reassuring hand on Cassian’s shoulder. “We need to get YN to a healer now,” he said, his voice steady but urgent. “And make sure Knox is taken care of. Azriel, can you manage?”

Azriel nodded, his gaze softening as he looked at Knox. “I’ll make sure they’re both okay,” he said, his voice firm despite the turmoil he felt inside.

With Knox safely in his arms and YN being carefully tended to, the reality of the situation began to settle in. Azriel knew there would be many questions and difficult conversations to come, but for now, his focus was on ensuring the safety and well-being of his family.

Let me know if you'd wish to be tagged! Comments and reblogs are really appreciated!

What worse can happen now huh? Hehe......right?

[cod-dump]

the boys reaction to getting Price to laugh at their shenanigans. It is just them stopping and slow turning to look at Price crying laughing with shocked looks at him. after that it is a competition to see can get him to laugh meanwhile Ghost can do it by saying just the right joke. (sorry for paragraph! i like ur incorrect quotes!!)

Price wasn't easy to make laugh. A full belly laugh had never been heard before by Soap and Gaz in the entire time they've worked with Price. Which is why when the magic finally happened they were stunned. He was sleep deprived, was a bit high on pain meds accompanying blood loss from a relatively non-lethal injury. All those combined led to the perfect conditions for a laughing Price.

Soap throwing pens at Gaz while the man was trying to sneakily steal a candy bar from Ghost's pocket relatively wasn't the funniest thing they've ever done. But for the reasons listed, Price found it hilarious. One pen nailing Gaz's neck and their captain starting laughing. Ghost was the only one not fazed, only caring for his almost lost candy bar.

Price had passed out not long after he coughed a lung up for laughing so hard. Soap and Gaz were changed men after that. Ghost couldn't understand why they were so stunned, Ghost had Price laughing over the Christmas themed biscuit tin they found from five years ago.

He's gotten the man to cry from laughing over an officer's surname. From mocking an agent behind their back with an exaggerated accent. Price laughs a lot. Why are they acting like he hasn't before? Do they not pay attention?

"You two are pathetic."

They didn't even fight him on that, that's how much this was getting to them. Unbelievable.

[trulyumai]

Fall Baking

pairing: eddie munson / gf! reader

synopsis: it was finally fall. more rain, more sweaters. this also meant the return of the infamous, ‘Hawkins Fair.’ eddie could care less about it really, but you were ecstatic.

warnings: none, fluff only!

A/N: im baking like crazy right now so this automatically came to my head. I’m ready to drown in pumpkin bread and warm coffee.

Eddie knew you loved the fall.

When the leafs started to turn, the weather getting colder and sbittier than normal, yeah, that was when that thing happened to your eyes.

They’d get all shiny and well, cute.

He was the opposite. He could do without the hindrance of rain bearing against him anytime he wanted to take out the trash or walk to the corner store.

But seeing you so happy about little sprinkles of condensation made the man weak.

So he detested the cold weather a little less for you.

And you know what the cold weather brought?

Fall excursions.

Aka: The Fair.

“Guys, you’re not gonna believe this!” Slamming your lunch down on the table, your body molded against his in one solid motion.

Eddie grunted out in surprise, but it didn’t stop you from talking about the surprise you had in store.

“The fair is coming back!”

Only stares were given, Gaven looked over at Jeff who was returning the same empty, confused look.

Eddie jumped in with a clearing of his throat, being the best boyfriend ever he had to save the day, right?

“No way, baby!”

“Way!” You giggled, relaxing into Eddies hold as you dug out the celery sticks in your little box.

“And, the school is accepting student stalls, that’s gonna be so much fun!”

“Why is that fun— ow!” With a harsh kick to Gavin’s knee, Eddie changed the subject.

“That’s cool babe, you could do a baking themed one. Your treats are to dieeeee for.”

“Oh yeah! Been a while since I got the iconic Mrs. Munson brownies,” Gavin sighed out. Already imagining the pillowy, chocolaty goodness that was always oozing with warmth.

“That’s not what I named them.” You laughed, “Buuuut if you boys help me out with the stall I promise to bake one thing if your choosing!”

This garnered the attention of the hellfire club fast. Eddie was almost jealous at how entranced you got everyone.

“Anything?”

“Can you do cakes?”

“Ooooh the brownieees!” Almost everyone talked over one another, already fantasizing about the treats they’ll ask for.

“Uhhhh babe?” Eddies rings were cold against your thighs, your dark green skirt rid up against the tops of his legs, showcasing your pretty and soft skin.

“Mhm?” You replied, already turning towards your wild haired boyfriend.

“And what do I get? I mean I love your baking, obviously! but I can get that anytime.”

That was… true.

Damn it you thought you had everyone sinched into the plan. But of course Eddie would try to sneak something else into play.

“Well ummm,” he stumped you this time.

Furrowinf yoyr brows you bit lightly on the inside of your cheek, racking your brain for anything Eddie might approve of.

Clothes? No, Eddie only wore his favorite staples anyway. Maybe you could offer to clean his room? No, you just did that last weekend when he was snoring on the couch.

Think, think!—

“I know what I want.”

You knew that tone. That deep drawl that makes his voice come out in a low, teasing hush.

Eddie indicated you closer with just a wag of his index finger.

You felt the weight of his breath hit the side of your face, warm and light.

“I want,” he breathed in this time, dragging his lips closer and closer until they brushed against the side of your jaw.

“You, to spend the night, every nite this week.”

“Eddie!” Rolling your orbs you pushed his face away. “That’s kinda impossible. You know how my parents are—“

“Pretty please, sweetheart? It’s been forever!”

“I just spent the night on saturday!”

“That was literally forever ago.”

“Eddie.” Your fingers brushed with his temple, lightly pushing against them.

“That was two days ago.”

He only shook his head in rebuttal, moving his legs until your frame was once again close to his.

“My point still stands. Forever ago! And you need my help, who will keep these idiots in check?”

“Hey!” A few club mates responded back, but quickly went into their own baking conversations.

“Not all week. Two days,”

“Three!” Eddie challenged. With a mocking squint to your eyes you huffed out a breath.

“Fine! You win. Three days.”

“Yes!” Eddie cheered, smothering a sloppy kiss on your cheek and raised a hand to high five Gavin.

What a dork.

“You won’t regret this baby. I just got new snacks, cleaned my room—“

“You cleaned your room?”

Eddie cleared his throat and his long fingers came up to play with the loose hair around your neck.

“Well.. no, but it’s still clean from when you did it— ouch!”

Grabbing the man’s soft cheek, you began to pull.

“Hey hey, easy easy, I was just joking!—“

“You’re such a dork, Eddie.” Laughing, you watched as his fingers came up to the pinched spot, rubbing it with a soft tenderness like you had plucked the skin right off his face.

Grabbing at your celery you joined into the groups conversation. Trying to remember each and every goodie the gang wanted you to bake.

This is gonna be a long week.

But at least it’s fall, right?

….

Right..?

[lee-laurent]

Picture Perfect - Luke Hughes

Summary: There was a reason that Tori and John broke up. Was there not?

content: children, angst, fluff, mentions of breakups, kissing, mentions of sex but no actual smut, mentions of pregnancy, crying, oc x ex!john marino

wc: 4.5k

notes: PART 8!! we're wrapping up guys! there are gonna be 10 parts, so the end is in sight. so happy that ppl have enjoyed this series!! :)

John's shirt was soaked, but he really couldn't have cared less. He was spending quality time with Riley. Getting to spend more time with his son than he almost ever had.

Riley giggled, launching his rubber duck off the faucet and into the bubbles below. He turned, making sure that his dad, who was sitting on the floor next to the tub, had seen the splash that the duck at made.

"Oo' watchin', Dada?" Riley beamed, clapping his hands as the duck resurfaced.

"I am! Very impressive, bud," he chuckled, scooping up some of the bubbles and placing them on Riley's head. The toddler giggled again, smacking the water with his hands. John lived for moments like that. Moments where he wasn't a professional hockey player. Moments where he was one thing and one thing only--Riley's dad.

"More! More!" Riley demanded, scooting forward to put the duck back on the faucet. He gave it a little push and it fell into the water with a plonk. His giggles filled the room again, kicking his legs to make waves that the duck "surfed" on.

John couldn't help but wonder how many moments like that he'd missed because of his career. How many bathtimes? How many storybooks? How many nights spent cuddling because Riley couldn't sleep? How many nights spent ridding the closet of monsters? Sure things with Tori were complicated, but he didn't want to miss out on those moments anymore.

"Alright, Ri-Ri, time to wash up before Mama gets on our case," John said, gently pulling the duck from Riley's grasp and reaching for the washcloth.

"Noooo, more ducky!"

"Hey, hey, no pouting. If we wash up fast and get all clean, maybe Mama will let us watch Scooby Doo before bed. What do you think?"

Riley blinked, considering the offer before finally nodding. "Otay, Dada."

John smiled, relived that he didn't have to deal with a tantrum. He reached for the Spiderman themed "no-tears" shampoo and body wash. Riley giggled as John created a mohawk using the watermelon-scented soap.

"Rockstar Riley."

"Woc-staw Wiley."

"That's right, Rockstar Riley," he said, carefully washing the suds out with a cup of warm water. The bath was winding down, and Riley seemed far more relaxed since the promise of watching Scooby Doo.

Once Riley was clean and towel-wrapped, John hoisted him out of the tub, careful to balance him on his hip as they headed to the bedroom. Tori met them in the hall, smiling when she saw Riley's sleepy eyes peeking out from under the towel.

"Looks like bathtime was a success."

"Yeah, we had a blast," John replied, rocking the bundled toddler back and forth.

"Watch 'Ooby Doo!" Riley piped up, his voice full of energy despite his half-closed eyes.

"Alright, but just one episode. Bedtime is soon."

"Otay, Mama."

Once pajamas were on, they settled into the living room, Riley snuggled between his parents on the couch. John sat back, his arm on the back of the sofa, while Riley rested his head on Tori's chest. His eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment but he refused to fall asleep.

"This... this feels right," John said quietly, more to himself than anyone.

"Yeah... it does."

The credits rolled and John picked up a sleeping Riley. "I'll put him down."

"He, uh, he needs a sleep sack... so he doesn't climb out."

"I know, Tori. He's slept at mine," John grinned, shaking his head.

"Right. I... I forgot."

"I'll be back."

"Night, Ri-Ri. Mama loves you," she mumbled, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

~~

"You heading out?" Tori asked, pausing the episode of Gossip Girl she had put on.

"I, uh, I assumed I was sleeping over."

"Sleeping over?"

John rubbed the back of his neck, "I just figured, since Ri's asleep and I did last night... maybe I'd stay again tonight."

Tori stared at him a moment, processing his words. Having him stay the first night had been because she needed him for support, the second night had been a moment of passion, but a third night? That felt different in her mind. It felt like they were sliding back into something they shouldn't. Especially since she and Luke hadn't officially... broken up.

"John... I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Why not? I mean, Riley's asleep, and we've had a good couple days. Why make things harder?"

She sighed, pulling her legs up against her chest. "It's not about making things harder. It's about... what's right. We haven't really talked about what's happening between us. And I don't think we can just fall back into this without figuring things out."

"I'm not saying we have to figure everything out tonight, Tori. But things have been working well. And I've missed so much not being here... I just-"

Tori swallowed, guilt twisting in her chest. She missed the simplicity of having John around too. The easy routine, the helping hands when it came to having a toddler, the family dynamic she'd always wanted for Riley. But what if their old issues snuck their way back in?

"And Luke," she said softly, not meeting John's eyes. "Things with Luke... we haven't officially broken up."

John tensed, "Right. Luke."

Tori winced at the bitterness in his voice. "It's complicated, John. You know that."

"It's always complicated with him, isn't it?" John muttered. "You're not with him, but you're not breaking up with him either. Meanwhile, you're having sex with me. I'm trying to figure out where I stand. Am I supposed to just wait around, Victoria?"

"That's not what I'm asking for. I just... we need to slow down. For our sake. For Riley's sake."

John just exhaled sharply, crossing his arms over his chest, but gave a nod. "I get it. You're right. I just... I need to be here, Tori. To be with Riley. To be with... I'll go. But I'm coming over after the game tomorrow night."

She stood up, walking him to the door, hoping that she'd made the right decision. "Thanks for understanding," she murmured.

"I'm always here for my son. Just, uh, I'll text tomorrow."

"Okay. Night, John."

"Goodnight, Tori."

It wasn't until she heard the click of the lock that she felt like she could breathe. She went into the kitchen, popping open a bottle of wine, before settling back onto the couch to finish her show. Why couldn't her life be easier?

~~

Tori woke up to Gossip Girl still playing on the TV. She blinked, groggy, realizing that she had fallen asleep on the couch. The empty glass of wine on the coffee table in front of her, a reminder of the emotionally charged conversation she'd had with John.

She stretched, rubbing her temples, but before she could get up to make herself a cup of coffee, Riley's voice echoed from his bedroom.

"Mama! Where Dada?"

Tori felt her heart sink. Riley's voice was getting louder, more insistent, and the last thing she wanted to deal with was a tantrum. So, she pulled herself up from the couch and made her way down the hall.

"Mama's coming! Mama's coming, baby!"

She opened the door to find Riley standing in his crib, his hands gripping the wooden rail, eyes wide and expectant.

"Where Dada?"

"Dada went home, sweetpea. He had to get ready for his game today."

"But who play dinos?"

Tori lifted him from his crib, holding him close. "I know, Ri-Ri. We'll see Dada soon, I promise."

"'oon?"

"Yes, baby. After his game, okay? He loves playing with you, remember?"

Riley nodded, "Play now?"

Tori hated this. Hated how complicated everything felt. She wanted Riley to be happy, to have the world he deserved--one where his dad was there when he wanted. But things didn't fall into place that easily. Last night had reminded her of how stubborn John could be, but maybe he could get over that for Riley.

"How about we eat breakfast first? Then maybe we can call Dada?"

"Otay."

Tori placed him in his high chair, getting him a bowl of cheerios and blueberries together. She knew deep down that he'd play with them more than he'd eat them, but she really wasn't in the mood to make pancakes or waffles.

"Mama?" he asked, sticking cheerios to his spit covered hand.

"Yes, baby?"

"Dada come home?"

She sighed, "We'll see him soon, Ri-Ri."

"'Uke?"

Tori nearly dropped her mug on the floor, her breath catching in her throat. She hadn't expected Riley to ask about him, especially when he seemed so fixated on his dad. She turned to look at him, placing her coffee down for safety.

"Luke?" she repeated, brushing his curls from his face.

Riley nodded, poking at another Cheerio. "Dada no play. 'Uke play?"

His innocent question cut deeper than she had expected. He had grown fond of Luke, and Tori now had to face that fact that Luke had been more than a casual part of Riley's life.

"Luke's... busy right now, baby."

"'ockey?"

"Yes, Luke's busy with hockey. So, he's not coming over today."

Riley's face scrunched up in disappointment, but he didn't press further. He instead just grabbed a blueberry and squished it under his finger.

"Don't play with your food, Riley. It's for eating."

"Otay," he replied, clearly not listening as he squished another berry. Tori just rolled her eyes, letting it go. She grabbed her coffee, leaning against the window. She had already felt bad about asking John to leave the previous night, and now Riley was asking for not just his dad but also Luke. She felt so stuck, like she was being pulled in two directions at once. On one hand was John, the father of her child. On the other, Luke, who had shown her a different kind of love, one that made her feel seen. Like she was more than just Riley's mom.

Her phone buzzed and she picked it up, hoping it would be Luke. But her prayers remained unanswered... it was just John.

Hope Ri slept well. I'll be by after game, like we talked about.

They hadn't really "talked" about it. He'd just kind of stated that he would be by after the game. It didn't really seem like Tori had much choice in the matter.

"Mama! Dinos?"

She shook herself from her daze, grabbing a washcloth to clean up Riley. "Dinos it is."

~~

When 7 o'clock rolled around, Tori had Riley sat in the living room in his 'Marino' jersey, playing dinos with the game on the TV. Even though he seemed only interested in his toys, Tori knew that the moment he heard John's name or his face flashed across the screen, his eyes would be glued to the TV.

Riley looked up, waving his dino in the air. "'Ook, Mama! Dino 's gonna eat Dada! Nom nom nom!"

"Oh no! You better tell dino to be nice to Dada!"

Riley made the dino "apologize," then went back to his game. John was out there, doing his job, being his best self while she sat at home and tried to put her life back together. The image of John being a larger-than-life hockey player conflicted with the John that she knew. The John that she fell in love with.

The game announcer mentioned John's name, and Riley perked up just as Tori expected. "Dada on TV!" he squealed, scrambling to his feet.

"Yep! They said Dada's name, huh?"

"Dada 'gon score?"

"Maybe." She wasn't really sure how much of the game Riley truely understood, but seeing him light up when John played brought a smile to her face.

It was funny how after years of being with John and then being friends that she still found it surreal to watch him on TV. To know that thousands of people knew his name and went to watch his team play, while she sat at home with their child at her feet, talking about how he was going to be just like Dada when he grew up. She'd always respond with "I bet Dada would love that." Although deep down she didn't want him to end up "just like" John. Sure things had been better recently, but John had his flaws. She just hoped that they could keep making things work for Riley.

But she also didn't want to lead him on. She had Luke to worry about, he--

"'Ook, Mama! Dada skatin'!"

"Yeah, baby. He's skating fast, isn't he?"

"Fast! Dada super fast!" He grabbed one of his dinosaurs, making it zoom across the table. God, could Riley possibly admire John more? He was like a fucking superhero to the toddler.

A commercial break started and Tori stood up to grab herself a snack.

"Riley, do you want a--"

Her phone buzzed. Probably just John again, giving her an update on the game.

Hey, we need to talk. I'll call after the game?

Luke? Why now? Why did he want to talk now?

"What, Mama?"

"Sorry, Ri. D'you want a pouch?"

"Yes p'wease! Pouch!"

Tori continued to stare at her phone as she grabbed Riley a fruit pouch from the cupboard. Luke's text felt like it was staring into her soul. Why had he decided to reach out halfway through a game? Had John made a comment, said something he shouldn't have? All the possibilities and she wouldn't get an answer until after the game.

She took a deep breath, then placed her phone face-down on the counter, grabbing herself a bowl of Goldfish crackers. Riley was happily bouncing around to the music playing in one of the commercials. If only she could be so relaxed.

"No more phone for the rest of the game," she mumbled, taking the pouch to Riley.

"Tank 'oo, Mama!"

"Of course, baby. Is Dada back on the TV yet?"

"'Uke! I see'd 'Uke!"

"You saw Luke on the TV?"

"Yes! In jail."

"In jail?" she furrowed her brow. What in the world did that mean?

"Yes, 'Uke in jail."

"I-" then the screen flashed to a furious looking Luke sitting in the penalty box. Of course Riley thought that was jail. John had probably taught him that, she rolled her eyes. "You're right. Luke is in timeout."

"He be bad, so they put him in jail," Riley nodded, making his dinos fight.

A few moments later, Luke skated back onto the ice. It felt weird watching him on the TV too. Like he was even more distant, more unreachable. The man who had become such an important part of hers and Riley's lives, now felt like a complication that she didn't want to deal with.

"'Uke is free. No more jail," Riley pointed, singing 'no more jail' to himself a couple more times.

"That's right. They freed him from timeout."

Tori spent the rest of the game on the floor with Riley, trying to keep her mind off things. And it worked, the rest of the game flew by and before she knew it, John was knocking at the door.

She forced herself to stand up, smoothing down her Devils t-shirt as she walked to the door. With a deep breath, she opened the door. John stood there in casual clothes, opposed to the suit that the Devils had posted a picture of him arriving in. His hair was damp from the showers, a reminder of the game that he had just won.

"Hey! Did you guys watch the game?"

"Yeah, he was glued to the screen everytime he heard your name," she smiled, motioning towards Riley, who was now busy making his dinos 'free' each other from jail just like Luke. "He was excited."

"Hey bud! Did you watch Dada on the TV?" John asked, scooping up the toddler.

"Dada went 'uper fast! Like zooooom! And then Dada win! And then my dino eat 'oo, Dada!"

"What?! Dino ate me?! You gotta be careful with those dinos, huh?"

"It's okay. I kiss it better," Riley grinned, pressing a kiss to John's cheek.

"Aww, thanks, Ri-Ri. I feel all better now."

Riley squirmed out of John's arms to go back to his dinos. Tori caught John's eye and for a moment it felt just the way it did when Riley was first born.

"You gonna stay for a bit?"

"Yeah. It'd be nice to play with him for a bit before bed."

"Perfect. I--"

Her phone started buzzing rhythmically. Someone was calling her. Luke was calling her.

"Shit. I gotta take this. I'll be right back," she forced a smile, taking her phone down the hall to her bedroom. "Hey."

"Hey. I, uh, sorry for texting during the name, but we need to talk. I've been doing a lot of thinking."

Tori sat on the edge of her bed. She had been expecting this, but now that it was happening, she didn't know how to respond. "Okay. What's on your mind?"

"I... I know things have been weird lately. I needed time to think. And I'm sorry I aired you for so long. But I need to know if we're still on the same page here, Tori. If this... if we still have a chance."

Tori swallowed, glancing at the closed door. John was out there, playing with Riley, and the reality of the situation felt heavier than it did before. She hated that no matter what, someone was going to get hurt.

"Things are complicated right now, Luke. I care about you, I do. But John... he's Riley's dad--"

"And you feel like you owe it to Riley to make things work with John," Luke finished for her, his tone clipped. "I get it, Tori. I do. But you need to figure out what you want. What's going to make you happy. Not just Riley."

"I'm a mom, Luke. Riley's happiness comes first. H--"

"Is that why you slept with John?"

"What?"

"Heard him talking to some of the other guys about it. Were you going to tell me?"

"I was going to tell you. I just didn't know when... or how. It-- it was just kind of happened. And we've been on this weird break, so--"

"So you decided that because I wasn't there, you'd sleep with your ex. Great. Do you have feelings for him, Tori? Is that what this is?"

"I don't know."

"You don't seem to know much, d'you? D'you know if you love me? Or is that still up in the air too?"

"Luke--"

"I don't know why I even called you. Call me when you figure your shit out. Until then, good luck."

The line went dead. Luke's words hit like a punch to the face. She blinked back her tears, refusing to have a break down right now--not with John and Riley both a few feet away. She didn't know what she wanted, and that was the truth. But hearing him throw it back at her didn't feel very nice.

Figure your shit out.

He was right. She couldn't keep doing this. Dragging two people she cared about--Hell, three people. Riley was part of this too--into a mess she made because she couldn't make a decision.

She composed herself, making her way back to the living room. John glanced up at her. He could see right through her fake smile. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing. Just, uh, just some stuff with Luke."

"If he makes you upset, why are you still wasting your time on him?"

"John. Not in front of Riley."

"They put 'Uke in jail, Dada," Riley decided to join the conversation.

"Yeah, you're right, Riley. Luke got a penalty," John had to keep himself from sighing listening to his son mention his mother's boyfriend.

"But you no in jail."

"Mhm."

"You was good."

"It's past time bedtime, Ri-Ri," Tori cut off, sensing that she and John weren't going to accomplish much with Riley in the room.

"Dada read cat-pilla?"

"You want Dada to ready you 'The Very Hungry Caterpillar'?" Tori asked for clarification.

"Uh huh."

"Alright. Let's go brush our teeth and get in our jammies. Then Dada and you can read." Tori picked him up and headed down the hall, John following behind. Once they'd settled on a pair of blue pajamas to wear under his sleepsack, he cuddled up with John on his rocking chair. He continued to babble about Luke and being put in jail. Talking about how bad guys go to jail. John sat there with an unreadable expression on his face, holding the picture book that Riley had requested.

"Okay, Ri. That's enough talking about jail. Let Dada read."

"Otay. 'oo stay Mama?"

"No, Mama's gonna go take a bath."

"Say 'goodnight' to Mama."

"Night, Mama."

"Night, baby," she responded, blowing him a kiss.

"In the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf," John read aloud, Riley tracing little patterns on his dad's arm.

Tori double-checked that his nightlight was plugged-in before making her way to the bathroom for a much needed hot bath. She turned on the hot water and let the room fill with steam. She even poured in lavendar bath salts because it was one of those days. As she slid into the warm water, she could still make out John's voice reading out "The Very Hungry Caterpillar." It felt like everything was okay. Like they were a real family again.

But deep down, she knew that wasn't true. Luke's call had been a wake-up call. She needed to stop the indecision. She couldn't ignore the cracks forming around her. John was Riley's father, and he'd been there for her. Well, sort of. He was there for Riley, who was an extension of her. Luke had come into her life and been there for her. Not just for Riley, but for her. No questions ask. John always asked questions. He always had a motive behind his actions, but not Luke. Luke cared about her in a way that she wasn't sure John did. Sure, she was the mother of his child, so he'd always have some love for her. But she found it kind of convinent how he'd only tried to push more into her life once she started seeing Luke.

After what felt like an eternity with her thoughts, there was a knock at the bathroom door. "Ri's down for the night."

"Thanks."

"Mind if I hang out for a bit? Talk?"

"Uh, yeah, give me a minute."

"We can talk in there if you want."

"John..."

"Right. I'll be in your room."

"Thanks."

She sank deeper into the water, trying to get a few more moments of peace before she had to talk to John. Figure your shit out. No more limbo. It was time to face reality, no matter how uncomfortable it was.

She dried off and wrapped herself in a robe before finally heading down to her room. John was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands resting on his knees.

"So what's on your mind?"

"I don't want to push you, V. I know things have been complicated and I don't want to make them harder. But I need to know where we stand. With Luke in the picture, I just... I can't keep pretending everything is fine."

"I get that. And I can't blame you for wanting answers. I just, I need to figure out what's best for Riley, for me. For everyone."

"I'm Riley's dad. Am I not what's best for him?"

"You know that's not what I mean, John. We'll always need you. You're his dad. And seeing the two of you recently, it... it's been so amazing."

"Victoria. I need to know what you want, though. Not for Riley. For yourself."

"God, you sound just like Luke," she threw her hands up.

"Why? Because we both want you to care for yourself too?"

Tori bit her lip, a lump rising in her throat. She had been asking herself the same questions for weeks, and now, sitting there with John, maybe things were become a little more clear. She cared about him. Hell, she loved him and she loved the family that they could be for Riley. But that wasn't enough, was it?

"I do care about me. But Riley comes first. And I thought... maybe we could try again, for his sake. But then, there's Luke. And he's been there for me, John, in ways that you... you haven't been in a long time."

John's jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt.

"I feel like you've only really tried to be here for me since Luke came into the picture. And... that's not fair to any of us. I don't want to force something just because... just because we have a child together. I need to feel wanted for me... not because I'm Riley's mom."

John exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I get that. And you're right, I... I wasn't always there like I shoul've been. But I'm trying now. I want to be there for you, for Riley, because I care about you. Not just because of him. But I can't wait around forever while you figure this out."

"I want to believe you, John. I really do. But... we haven't worked for a reason."

"Tori, I--" His words caught in his throat. "I know we haven't worked in the past, but things change. People can change. I'm trying. I am."

She didn't doubt that he was trying, but it was too late now. The damage had been done. And Luke had finally shown her what real, true love looked like.

"John--"

"I can't just walk away from this, from us. Not without knowing we've given us a real second chance."

"I don't know if... if there is a second chance here. We've tried so many times, but it's always for Riley. It's never for us. Us doesn't work, John. We... we work as co-parents, but we don't work as us."

"Tori, please..."

"John..."

"So that's it? You're choosing Luke?"

"I'm choosing what feels right for me. I can't keep pretending there's something here that isn't. I can't pretend just for Riley."

"But Riley needs us. Together."

"Riley needs us to be good parents. And we can do that without being together. We can give me stability, love, everything he needs. Everything you've been giving him the last few days. He needs that John to be around. I know work is draining, John. I can't even imagine what it's like being a professional athlete. But the John that's been here the last few days, playing and reading books to our boy. That's the John he needs all the time."

"You're right. I just... I haven't been ready to admit it."

"You're a great dad, John. And Riley is always going to need you. I will always need you here as his father. Luke isn't going to replace that. But we need to stop holding onto the past. It's time to move forward."

"I don't want to lose you guys."

"And you won't. We'll figure this out, John. Together, as Ri's parents."

"Yeah. As Riley's parents," John nodded, his voice hoarse.

With that, John leaned down and pressed a kiss to Tori's forehead before making his way to the door. Tori stood there, watching him go, feeling both the weight of what she'd done but also the relief that she was no longer trapped in two seperate worlds.

Now she needed to let Luke know that she'd figured her shit out.

[aftgficrec]

My Personal Favorite Fics EVER!! All Neil/Andrew

I hope I am doing this right! I just hit the share button on my bookmarked fics. Idk if any of these have been on here before (I have read a lot of fics and it gets confusing to know which ones I found on here bc there are so many good recommendations, or ones I found on my own. But these are 3 of my favorite fics that I feel like are the most well done!

• Everything's Alright by DarkD: This fic is unfinished but so worth the read!! It is a soulmates au, and in it Neil and Andrew are looking out for eachother since they are 6 and 7 years old. It completely changes their dynamic but manages to keep the characters realistic. I love the direction it was going, I hope the author finishes it, but even if they don’t what they have written so far is worth the read.

• If I Knew You by AceSirenSinger: This fic is soooo amazing!! It was posed pretty recently (starting January 2024 and finishing in May) and It shows a different direction with Aaron and Andrew’s bonding, and different reasons for them having problems with each other. It features writer/author Andrew and Law Student turned police officer Aaron. The writing is so high quality and it is a completely finished fic!! The writing to show the writing of the book Andrew has written alone is impressive enough to get you to read it. I love it so much, it also gives a more realistic approach to Neil’s life and trauma as well as gives you more of a perspective on the problems of Aaron’s life. (Even tho it’s an au and doesn’t show his life during AFTG)

• Deep blue ( but you painted me golden ) by Jeaneil_22: This fic is not finished but completely captivated my attention when I saw it. I was surprised I had not read it before (because I am obsessed with Raven Neil fics, and this is one of them) but then I realized it was posted within the last year or so. It’s completely underrated. It does have a lot of hits but the kudos count not being in the thousands is a crime against humanity. The realistic take on. Neil’s trauma and different things going on as he is still connected very heavily to the Moriyama’s is sooo interesting. And if you are looking for a fic where Neil is a victim of SA/Rape this fic is also a good one for you. (Though it does have a lot of trauma so mind the tags) I know a lot of people are looking for fics like that tho and it’s hard to find bc there is so much SA trauma in AFTG 😔

Thanks for the recs and for sharing your thoughts on the fics! Readers, all of these stories lean toward the darkest themes of AFTG. -A

Everything's Alright by DarkD [Rated E, 182901 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2023]

Previously recced here

Souls weren't meant to be left alone, so they split, always looking for their other half. No matter how long it took, the moment a soul existed, it sought the one that would complete it. The main indication is, when one of the halves of the soul turns seven years old, an identical mark appears on both parts. Along with that comes a set of unique abilities that soulmates can only use with each other—for protection, for finding each other. Soulmates would never be alone.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: child abuse, tw: torture, tw: blood, tw: gun violence, tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: murder, tw: canonical character death

If I Knew You by AceSirenSinger [Rated T, 43145 Words, Complete, 2024]

Previously featured in this long andreil + aaron angst ask, our staff recs writers post, and as a random rec

Neil is imprisoned at sixteen years old for being the Butcher of Baltimore. Andrew obsesses, and Aaron obsesses because Andrew does, and everything goes wrong and raw and painful. Feat. the twinyards breaking each other’s hearts, and a decent amount of shade on the American justice system.

tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: recreational drug use, tw: implied/referenced violence, tw: implied/referenced torture

​​Deep blue ( but you painted me golden ) by Jeaneil_22 [Rated M, 163298 Words, Incomplete, Updated Sept 2024]

After the horrific incident that happened in the nest and the sound of Kevin crying, Nathaneil made the hard call and bargained with his life to get Jean and Kevin out, having no slight idea about the storm that was heading his way And after being missing for two years, Jean and Kevin swallowed the hard truth that Nathaneil might be dead somewhere To their surprise one day he appears out of the blue looking so much like their brother but nothing like Nathaneil at all Or Nathniel went on the run with his mother when he was 9 years old but three years later Nathan caught up to them and threw Nathaneil in the nest So we can say some things went a bit different .

NB: playlist for this fic

tw: dark, tw: gang rape, tw: dubcon, tw: human trafficking, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: assault, tw: flashbacks, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: abuse and torture, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: medication addiction and withdrawal, tw: recreational drug use, tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: vomit, tw: homophobia, tw: canonical character death

[purpledemonlilyposting]

Oh good the Lorch is sending herself asks about me again.

[Lily's Post]

Oh yeah Lily calling marginalized people a "pick me" for not having the same exact opinions as you doesn't make you look bigoted at all.

Unlike you I don't think children's cartoons are activism. And my pointing at that some people like to try to downplay the lesbian themes in Steven Universe, or at least the way lesbians interact with the themes of the show, actually has nothing to do with the show itself.

Hey Lily did you know I also really don't like the word queer being thrown around, refuse to call myself that because it means strange and also dislike "anti-assimilationist" types?

Speaking of which:

[Lily's Post]

Yeah I say that about the kids telling me queer has been "reclaimed" for me. I would think you'd agree, Lily.

Those are two completely different concepts you dumbass. We can have gay content in mainstream media without it being insulting dreck driven by rainbow capitalism.

Lily is the one who basically wants the Hayes Code back. She wants every show and movie to tell her who is good, who is bad, what to think and for the bad guy to get thrown off a cliff at the end.

Lily just because those are the only two pieces of media YOU know I like doesn't mean that's all I like or have ever seen. Have you seen But I'm a Cheerleader? How about Saving Face?

Hey Lily if you'd actually watch my responses to you:

No I sneer at shows with bad depictions of gay characters when they have bad depictions of gay characters. Especially when they break their own spines patting themselves on the back for it.

Are you trying to get ahead of my VOD you falsely struck going back up on Thursday? You know the one where you said an early 2000's flaming queen stereotype in some shitty Alicia Silverstone vehicle was super good "gay rep" because you had some retarded need to paint a narrative that Canadian cartoons "did it first"?

The whole "she's just mad other shows are outpacing things she likes" lol it isn't a competition, dawg. That's you, Lily. That's how you think.

This is how I know its a self ask.

Yeah that's why in my reaction to James Somerton's somehow EVEN WORSE takes on Utena than yours I kept saying things like "Utena isn't really that hard to understand it just tells it's story in a very abstract way".

Also if you think the Sword of Dios is "the sword of patriarchy" you really didn't get it but much like James here I doubt you ever even watched it, Lily. I look forward to your "In a Nutshell" video where you will read out TVTropes with zero context and get everything wrong.

Lily I hadn't watched the show fully in over 15 years when I made my very first video on you. I wasn't even expecting to talk about Utena you just went on a tirade about it in the middle of your 2023 Steven Universe video.

In fact, the reason I even cut that video in the first place is I was so impressed with my own recall of the show. And then it got 5k hits out of nowhere on my then completely unestablished channel because people just hate your takes that much.

And now making fun of you has paid for my new GPU and CPU. No Man's Sky is running great and I'm ready for Dragon Age Veilguard so cheers!

[literatureloverx]

hi beautiful <3

i love all your analyses sm and all the thought you put into them it’s so admirable i could never hehe 😭

im very invested in the themes of love languages and stuff so i wanted to ask what you think the bsd men’s love languages could be if that’s okay <3? tysm

and if you ever wanna recognize me 💫 there i am ♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪

-💫

Hello, dear 💫-anon!♥️ Please excuse my late response. I had like…about 80 requests? Which kind of made me overlook this one, but I’m very happy to write for you now!

I really love such cutesy style of self-expression, which makes me be already very fond of you. I hope that this is to your liking.♥️

BSD MEN x ideal type darlings, subtle yandere behaviour but it’s not really noticeable.

BSD MEN x love languages

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Words of Affirmation: He uses praise and intellectual discourse to uplift his partner, valuing deep conversations that reveal vulnerabilities (rather your vulnerabilities, but we love red flags, don’t we?).

Quality Time: Enjoys engaging in meaningful discussions, relishing moments that allow for introspection and connection.

Acts of Service: He demonstrates care by taking thoughtful actions, often strategizing to provide support and stability.

Dazai Osamu

Physical Touch: Incorporates playful touches and embraces, using physical closeness to express affection and comfort.

Quality Time: Seeks out deep, meaningful interactions, often choosing to spend time in relaxed settings that foster intimacy.

Words of Affirmation: Frequently uses humor and compliments to create a light-hearted atmosphere, helping his partner feel valued.

Nakahara Chuuya

Physical Touch: Communicates affection through hugs, holding hands, and protective gestures, emphasizing closeness and loyalty.

Acts of Service: Shows love through actions that demonstrate commitment, often stepping in to help or defend his partner.

Words of Affirmation: While he might not be overly vocal, he appreciates direct expressions of love and loyalty from his partner.

Nikolai Gogol

Quality Time: Values shared experiences, often seeking out adventures or creative pursuits that allow for connection and fun.

Physical Touch: Expresses love through affectionate gestures, like hugs or playful touches, emphasizing closeness and warmth.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Acts of Service: Expresses love through protective actions, often putting his partner’s needs above his own to demonstrate loyalty.

Words of Affirmation: While he may struggle with vulnerability, he values sincere acknowledgment of his efforts and feelings.

TO VIEW MY MASTERLISTS => HERE

[ariaste]

A Discussion on Book Endings

Hey, friends. Thanks for coming today. I'm sorry to break it to you, but this is an intervention. Please, don't get defensive -- everyone here loves you and cares about you. But listen... I'm gonna need book readers and reviewers to reflect on the idea that finishing a book and going "Oh, I loved it so much, but I wish it was just a few pages longer!" is not really a valid point of negative critique in the assessment of a text.

Let me explain.

When I read people's otherwise wildly positive reviews of books and they say that line, I don't interpret it in context as, "This story needed to be a few pages longer for the plot to work, structurally, and for the ending to achieve a solid resolution." Rather, they basically seem to be saying simply, "I loved it and I didn't want it to end." That's always a GREAT feeling, but then they're.... taking points off from their total rating because of that??? They seem to be penalizing the author because they weren't left with a feeling of "Ugh, thank god it's over"? It's like, "This would have been five stars if it had had just one more chapter but it made me sad that it ended, so four stars" -- Guys, do we understand that's an insane take? It's insane. A book has to end. If you shriek "NO!!!" that it's over because you were having such a great time, that's... that's a symptom of a 5-star book, babes. I'm not sure why there's such a fashion these days for penalizing authors for this particular thing in this particular way, but it's really baffling to me.

But setting aside the puzzling trend of "I'm knocking points off because it ended when it should have gone on until I personally was fully bored and exhausted of it, like the 11th season of a TV show that was only supposed to go until season 4" -- listen, I guarantee you that nine times out of ten, when you're out here longing for just one more chapter or saying "this could have used an epilogue" you... are wishing for something that would have actively ruined your enjoyment and the quality of the book.

Are you a writer yourself? Have you ever finished writing a book before? Have you done it more than once? Have you deeply studied the endings of books? They are HARD, let me tell you what. Endings are so much harder than beginnings, because you're looking for that beautiful final note, like the ending of a symphony, and you're trying to ride it for a few glorious seconds before the FLOURISH and dum-dummmmmm....! and the conductor collapses as the audience bursts into applause! Right? Yes? Except that chances are that one more chapter or epilogue would ruin the pacing and resolution of the ending and muddle up the summary of the theme and thesis statement, and all of this WOULD ACTUALLY fuck up your experience of the story as a whole. For example, please consider the last Harry Potter book as an example. We all hate JKR now for being a TERF but oh, children, how quickly we forget that back in the olden times, we used to hate her for that fucking epilogue that made everything that came before feel rancid and pointless and hollow and cheap. Y'all remember how sickening and infuriating that was? Do you remember the Hunger Games epilogue? Nine times out of ten, that's what you're inexplicably wishing for.

To see this point illustrated, let's do a quick exercise together. Go pick out a piece of classical music -- some of my best suggestions for this are Beethoven's Ode to Joy, or "Der Holle Rache" from Mozart's Magic Flute, or Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture. Listen to it all the way through. If you're struggling with scrolling addiction and your attention span has been severely damaged, fine, listen to the last two minutes ("Der Holle Rache" is the shortest, just 3 minutes). Then, after the song is done, click back to some random spot earlier in the piece, listen to another 30 seconds, and then stop. Consider: Did adding that last 30 seconds materially improve the piece, or did it undermine the overall emotional journey? Did it help the ending to stick the landing even more than it already did, or does it just feel weirdly stuck-on as an afterthought, like the "for more fun videos, check out the rest of our channel and don't forget to subscribe!!!" card at the end of youtube videos?

When you are wishing for an epilogue, my doves, you are wishing for something you do not actually want -- or which you probably would not want if you had the option to see it in practice and compare it side by side with the original. You are wishing for something that would more than likely make the story worse. You are holding the author at fault for something being wrong with the text only because you hit immersion and were having a lot of fun and didn't want to come back up for air. Like, I'm just not sure that's something that the author should be blamed for? It sounds like they were doing their job really well???

Please, just. Separate your feelings of "bittersweet disappointment that this wonderful book is over" from "frustration that the author didn't stick the landing, ugh what a flop" because they are two separate things. Before you say "I'm taking points off because I wish there was more", please take two seconds to ask yourself critical thinking questions like, "Why did the author choose to end the book here rather than in two more chapters?" because (other than a few wild outliers that should not be counted) the answer is never, "They got bored and just didn't feel like finishing the story." Chances are, they chose that specific ending for a reason. They ended it there because that's the point that underlines the thesis statement of the book, or because the emotions of that scene are the ones they want you to remember and walk away with, or because that marks the place where the story arc is genuinely over. When the author says, "And they all lived happily ever after," that means that what happily-ever-after looks like is in your hands now.

Nine times out of ten, you don't want one more chapter. Please. I promise you that you don't want one more chapter. The book is done; what you want now is either fanfiction or someone to talk about it with. Or maybe to start the book over from the beginning! Believe me, you would not want one more chapter if you had it. (Or, if you did have it and it magically didn't suck, you would just keep wanting more chapters because that's what "really enjoying the book" means. In which case, go read fanfic, that's what it is for.) I promise you, I promise you, the book would probably be worse with one more chapter and you would not like it as much. Please stop wishing for the author to be less good at their job. Please. A book has to end; so does this post. And we all live happily ever after*. The End.

----- * The post-canon coffeeshop AU sequel will be detailed exhaustively on AO3

[sweetandglovelyart]

Another Kirby OC Ask Game!

Thought I’d make another one of these since everyone liked the first one so much! Here are some more Kirby OC asks. You can send a number or an emoji, whichever is easier.

1. 🎶: What is a song that you associate with your OC, and why do you associate it with them?

2. 🗣️: Does your OC speak more than one language? If they do, what languages do they speak and how did they learn them?

3. 🪐: Has your OC ever left their home planet? If so, what other planets have they visited?

4. 💖: Has your OC met Kirby? If they have, what is their relationship with him like?

5. 📚: What kinds of books would your OC like to read? Do they have a favorite genre?

6. 💼: Does your OC have a job? If they do, what is their job and do they enjoy it?

7. 🧙‍♂️: If your OC had armor and a weapon themed after them for Super Kirby Clash, which of the roles (Sword Hero, Hammer Lord, Doctor Healmore, or Beam Mage) would the armor and weapon be for and what would it look like?

8. 🦄: Is your OC the only one of their kind, or are there others like them?

9. 🪞: Does your OC have a mirror counterpart? If so, what is their mirror counterpart like?

10. 🫂: Is your OC a forgiving person, or do they tend to hold grudges?

11. 🐾: If there was a Forgotten Land copy ability upgrade themed after your OC, which ability would it be for? What would the hat for it look like and how would it upgrade the base ability?

12. 😢: Is your OC open with their emotions, or do they tend to keep their feelings bottled up inside?

13. 😱: What is one thing that your OC is afraid of, and why are they afraid of it?

14. 💍: Does your OC wear any jewelry? If so, is there any significant meaning behind their jewelry?

15. 🫶: Are there any canon characters that your OC ships/that your OC thinks would be a good couple? If so, has your OC ever tried to play matchmaker and set these characters up?

16. 📺: If the anime got a reboot or if there was another Kirby TV show, do you have any ideas for episodes that your OC could appear in? What would the plot be and what role would your OC play?

17. 🪦: Has your OC lost any family members/friends/anyone else that they were close to?

18. 🎬: Are there any characters from any cartoons/TV shows/movies/games/other media that remind you of your OC or that helped inspire you to make your OC? If so, what qualities do they share with your OC?

19. 💫: What is your OC’s favorite place to visit on Popstar?

20. 🥀: What is your OC’s favorite kind of flower/plant?

21. ⏳: How old is your OC? If they don’t have a specific numerical age, feel free to just give an age range instead (child, teen, young adult, older adult, etc.)

22. 👻: Has your OC ever been possessed or mind controlled? If yes, how did it happen?

23. 👊: What would a boss fight against your OC look like? What attacks would they use and why would they be fighting Kirby?

24. 😴: If your OC could pick one of the Star Allies Dream Friends to go on an adventure with them, who would they pick and why?

25. ⭐️: If your OC could pick a final weapon from any game to use (such as the Star Rod, Crystal Gun, Triple Star Cane, etc.) which one would they choose and why?

[humanitys-strongest-brat]

Kintsugi - ch. 2

Pairing: Coach!Levi x Injured fem!Reader

CW: major themes of injury, depression, and hopelessness. 18+ minors and ageless blogs dni.

wc: 3.2k

a/n: Reviewed and edited by the lovely @i-lev-you whom I am endlessly grateful for~

previous chapter

Heat radiates up from the pan over your wrist as you cook your breakfast, stirring mindlessly as you lose yourself in thought. The rattle of your phone against the counter interrupts you. Turning the stove on low you flip your phone over from its downward position to see Levi’s contact illuminating the screen. Immediately your chest tightens up. It’s only been two days since you last spoke to him. You let it ring for a few seconds before slowly sliding your thumb across the screen to answer. 

“Hello?” You hold your breath, hoping he doesn’t notice. 

“Morning,” Levi starts, his tone causing your nerves to fray more than they already were. “I reviewed everything you sent over and drew up a recovery plan. If possible, I’d like to go over it in person.” It’s still overwhelming to know just who it is you’re talking to.

“Okay sure.. When?” You ask. 

“Today?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Moving things along this quickly isn’t exactly what you expected to happen. “Yeah, I can make it in today.” You confirm. 

“Eleven work for you?” He asks. 

You glance over at the clock on the stove, seeing you had more than enough time to get ready “Perfect.” 

“Alright. Sina training center, left wing. My office is on the second floor. I’ll text you the address. See you then.” He hangs up and seconds later your phone buzzes with the address as promised. 

***

Sina Training Center is on the opposite side of town from the arena you trained at for Worlds. Having lived in this city for less than a year you’ve only ever seen it in passing. When you finally find a place to park it’s quite the walk before you make it inside, and when you do you’re shocked by the size of this place. It’s a huge lobby, different areas lead you to sport specific sections of the building. 

You head left and follow the signs that direct you towards the ice sports wing. On your way to the elevator you pass by the large window. Ice is on full display through this window, causing your stomach to tighten. You stop and observe as three girls train with their respective coaches on the ice. An ache grows in your chest as you watch them. 

When you step off the elevator onto the second floor and make your way into the waiting room, there’s a man standing in front of the door that leads to the offices looking down at an iPad. You walk up with the intention of politely getting past him, but when he looks up to face you your heart stops.

That scar is unmistakable. A clean cut that trailed from above his eyebrow all the way down through his lip. Small dots on either side from the stitches even after all this time, and a white glaze over his right eye. Even so, the man in front of you was breathtaking. It was definitely him. 

“Wouldn’t have made it very far,” he breaks the silence causing you to snap out of it, and you definitely feel like an ass for staring. 

“I’m sorry?” 

He quickly shifts to the left of the door revealing a key card scanner, “and I never mentioned which office was mine.” He sounds just like he did on the phone, so.. abstruse? If this wasn’t a professional setting you’d believe he already hated you.

 “Levi.” He states, extending his hand out for you to shake. You can’t help but stare. You’re standing in front of one of the most unrivaled skaters, even the accident couldn’t take that title from him. 

“Nice to meet you.” You finally muster up. He’s silent for a moment, seemingly observing you.  

“Likewise.” He finally says before looking back down and wrapping up whatever it was he was doing on the iPad. He holds it at his hip and digs through his pocket, pulling out a blue lanyard with the training center's logo lined across it, at the end hangs a small white card. “This is yours.” He says. You grab it from him and take a look. It’s a key card with a barcode and your name printed on it. “This will get you into any area designated for skaters, and past this door to my office.” You swear you can hear his voice lift at the second half of that sentence. “Follow me.” You nod as he leads you back into the elevator. Once you’re on the main floor again he points to the rink you passed on your way in. 

“That's the common rink, used for general training and classes.” He explains, leading you in the opposite direction down the hall and stopping at a pair of double doors. He presses his key card against the reader on the wall and quickly walks in as they open. When you follow in behind him, you’re stunned to see another large common area lined with equipment shops and a small snack bar section. To the right are two more ice rinks, one immediately to the right of the door you came in and the other’s entrance on the far wall straight across. “Those are the specialty rinks, I call them the rehab rinks.'' He starts, heading in that direction. “They both serve the same purpose though, one is generally used for the hockey team to train off-season. Eventually, we’ll be over there in the third one.” He gestures for you to follow him inside, scanning his card at the entrance. Your breathing nearly seizes. This is the closest you’ve been to the ice since February. 

“It’s our smallest rink. Reserved specifically for those recovering from injury who need a less congested area to work in.” He walks the edge of the boards with you in tow, eyes glued to the ice the entire time. “Locker rooms.” He says. You almost ran straight into him not noticing he had stopped to point them out. 

Circling back and crossing the large common area with you, he scans his key again. “This is the gym, and past that door is the PT area.” he points past another set of locker rooms. You’re already so overwhelmed, even for you this entire building was so high profile. You felt out of place. “For the next few weeks, we’ll be spending most of our time here.” 

You're so sick of physical therapy and just want to be back on the ice already.

As the two of you walk back out towards the elevators to get to his office, he looks over to you. “Do not use any facility without me there with you for now.” He says, and you can tell he’s serious.

***

Levi pulls a folder from his desk as you sit across from him. “Your current recovery plan is nauseating.” He says bluntly, dropping the folder onto the desk. 

You’re stunned by the quick change in his tone. “Excuse me?” 

“First of all, they set you up for failure before you even left the hospital.” He starts, pulling out printed copies of everything you sent over from the folder. “Ice? Really? Are we still living in the stone ages?” He scoffs “You should have been doing small movements for that ankle since day one, and I don’t see any recommendations here for that.” 

“There wasn’t..” You confirm, eyes so wide they could fall out of your skull. It was hard to believe how involved with your recovery he was, not expecting him to review your progress from day one. You figured he would just pick up along with where you already were. 

“Of course, and you weren’t referred to the proper resources. Standard physical therapy would never have gotten you back on that ice. It’s up to you but I think you’d do better full time here.” He says, shaking his head. “Christ, did your coach do literally anything for you?” 

You wince at the mention of Coach Tarasov, having ghosted her after she drove you home from the hospital. You haven’t reached out since, positive it’s too late now. Getting a new coach was just another thing you’d have to do to get yourself back up. “I didn’t really give her the chance to..” 

Levi hummed in response. “You moved on from basic balance too fast, that’s why you’re struggling so badly now. Balance is the most important part of this, you’re a figure skater. We’ll start our assessments there.” 

“I don’t have the time to start over.” You reply immediately. 

“Do you think you’ll have time when this happens again because you re-injured yourself?” He asks flatly and the question sinks deep. “You won’t, and we’re not starting over. I’m assessing where we are now.” 

We. 

“Okay.. you’re right.” You exhale and let yourself lean back into the chair. 

“I know I am.” He pulls all of the pages back together and slips them back inside your folder. “Three days a week. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, seven to eight?” He asks as if it were a question. 

“Yes, that works.” You affirm. This was your only option and you had a feeling he knew that too.

He nods and pulls another packet out, sliding it towards you. “Review and sign these.” He says. Flipping through it you recognise it’s the plan he just went over with you, and you sign when prompted. He reaches his hand beside his computer and slides you another white card. “For the parking garage.” 

*** 

The next day you park in the garage and it’s a much easier walk inside, considering it happens to be attached to the skating wing of the training center. You scan your way in and head through the gym, and into the physical therapy room once you throw your stuff into a locker. 

When you walk into the room you see Levi talking to what you assume to be another employee. He’s tall, muscular, blond. It looks like he’s actually enjoying their conversation. The discussion seems to stop when Levi’s eyes find you, and he gestures for you to follow him. Racing to catch up with him, you see the man eye the both of you before turning to leave. 

“Who's that?” Curiosity gets the best of you. 

“Erwin, he’s a personal trainer in another wing.” Levi responds without delay. “Sometimes comes and bothers me between appointments.” As harsh as that sounded, you could tell it came from a place of adoration.

Levi has you sit down after taking your shoes off. You’ve been here before, it’s the same place you got assessments done the first time. You watch as he kneels down and sets the tablet beside him on the mat, gently pressing his thumbs into the front of your ankle and asking you to move your foot in several directions. He feels like a different person in this room than he was in the office or on the phone. He’s gentle and precise, jotting down notes in between every test he does, and making sure you’re comfortable. He's way more involved than your last therapist and you haven’t even gotten past the assessment. 

“Let’s try something.” Getting back onto his feet, he walks across the room and grabs an object from the ground. You immediately recognize it as a balance board. It’s a flat square board with a rounded bottom. He places it down on the floor and gestures you over. “Go ahead and step up here.” He reaches his hand out for you to grab. You nervously place your hand in his and step onto the board with your left foot, relying on Levi to support you while you find your balance. 

“Great.” He encourages, his tone setting off tiny flutters in your stomach as you attempt to balance yourself. He takes a small step back, seamlessly supporting the weight you’re pushing onto his hand. “I’m going to let go, see how you do here.” He says and waits for you to center yourself before slowly pulling away. He continues to hold his hands out in front of you, palms facing up so you can hover yours above incase you need help with balancing. 

Immediately after he retracts his hand your ankle shakes, a reminder of just how far behind you are. A few seconds later discomfort takes over, sending a sting up the inside of your leg. You let your fingertips fall onto his, your eye twitches as you try to avoid relying on him for balance. 

“How does that feel?” 

“It kind of hurts.”

“Stop.” He grabs your hand and helps you back down off the board. “Then we aren’t there yet.” He comments, jotting the notes down quickly. 

You let out a sigh, this is what you meant when you said you couldn’t afford to start over. “I should be on the board by now.” You think out loud. 

“Not if it hurts.” He quips, letting the iPad rest against his hip from the strap hanging off his shoulder. “If you can’t balance on that board you won’t be able to balance on a blade.” 

“I’ve been in therapy for weeks,” your thoughts quickly spiral, having the determination to recover means nothing if your body works so hard against you. “If I can’t get back on the ice by-“ 

“I’ll get you back on the ice.” 

Your thoughts lapse. The way he said it with such certainty makes you want to believe him that much more. 

“Look, I told you your last program was shit,” he sounds like he’s trying to be comforting “it’s not going to happen overnight, and definitely not with that attitude.” 

You don’t know how to respond to that. You know he’s right. Again. 

Levi leads you to the center of the room for mobility stretches, another exercise you’re more than familiar with. He watches as you shift your weight onto your right leg and tip your left foot outward, it doesn’t hurt but the pull is uncomfortable. You inhale harshly through your nose, pushing further against the strain. 

“Don’t force it.” Levi instructs, keeping a close eye on your form. 

You switch from stretching to the side to stretching your ankle forward. After going back and forth between the two for about 5 minutes Levi stops you again, moving on to the stationary board for heel lifts. You step up and let your heels hang off the back of the board, every raise has your ankle shaking. You watch Levi in the mirror in front of you, he has a peculiar look on his face. He slowly kneels down behind you to watch closely as you continue to rise up and down on the board. 

“Stop, get down.” Levi says firmly.

You oblige, immediately stepping back down onto the padded floor. Levi picks up the tablet and starts quickly swiping across the screen, eyebrows raised and lips pressed in a flat line. 

“Your old therapist,” he starts, still quickly filing through pages on the iPad, “did they massage that ankle.” 

“No.” You confirm his suspicions. 

“‘Course they didn’t.” He mumbles, rolling his eyes as he lets the iPad fall back down against his side. “It’s stiff.” He’s already walking back toward the tables.

You follow behind him nervously, sitting up on the table when prompted. You watch as he methodically washes his hands in a nearby sink. When he comes back he tells you to lay back. He stands at the end of the table, gently bending your foot toward him. You chew the inside of your lip as he slips his hand under your heel, pressing his thumb gently behind your ankle bone and guiding the pressure up. Your breath catches at the slight discomfort but it's slowly replaced by a sense of relief. He continues in that same upward direction, adding a gentle circular motion after a few moments. You turn your head away, fidgeting with your shirt as your heart rate seems to accelerate. 

You aren't sure what it is about him. From the moment you knew you’d be working with him it’s all you could think about. At first you chalked it up to admiration. Maybe it was the way he cared, even underneath all the dry conversation and formalities you could tell. Or maybe it’s the way he carries himself. Could be that he’s stunning, like a sunset that perfectly contrasts a clear blue sky. Even now, when he's right in front of you he takes up your mind. Just when you entertain it, imagine his hand sliding up your leg–

“Let’s try again.” His voice startles you out of your thoughts. 

You stand back on the board and Levi kneels down again. You lift up once more and your eyes widen slightly. Not only has the discomfort decreased but your ankle doesn’t shake as bad. It’s not perfect, you still feel the tightness and resistance. That last thing you expected was to make progress during your first session with him. You snap your attention to him, back on the tablet adding data. The corner of his lip upturned in a subtle smirk like he just found the last missing piece of an unfinished puzzle. 

“It was healing stiff.” He comments, switching you to another exercise. “You’re lucky we caught it when we did.” 

“It’s reversible?” You ask, but it comes out as more of a plea. 

“It is.” he confirms. You leave the session that day with a detailed print out of exercises from Levi, instructed to do them in the afternoon of your session days and twice a day otherwise. 

That night as you do them, his voice echoes in your thoughts 

I’ll get you back on the ice.

***

From that point on, your sessions start with a fifteen minute meticulous ankle massage. By the end of the first two weeks you can hold your balance on one foot for thirty seconds with minimal shaking.

Throughout your third week you make miraculous progress. You’re up to forty five seconds of balance on one foot, and painless single heel lifts off the floor and the stationary balance board. 

The last 10 minutes of your Friday session Levi has you balance on one foot and places a tennis ball down directly in front of you. 

“Pick it up.” 

You nod, extending your leg behind you as you slowly bend your knee. Once you have the ball in your hand you slowly rise back up, placing it back in Levi’s hand. He shifts over, setting the ball down to your right. Again, you lower yourself down and back up on one foot with ease. One last time he sets the ball down to your left. When you drop it back in his hand you bring your elevated foot back down to stay stable. He lets out a satisfied huff and walks away, returning with the balance board from a few weeks back and drops it down. He helps you up and this time you pull away from him, quick to neutralize your weight. You make it look easy now.

“Not bad.” His tone sounds indifferent but he has that same look in his eyes, he has it every time you hit a milestone. 

Like every win is yours to share.

On your way out, Levi stops to face you. He opens his mouth to say something but quickly closes it again, seeming to second guess himself. “See you next week.” 

Taglist: @amywritesthings @littlerequiem @humanitys-strongest-bamf @hideandgopeep 

@thechaoticarchivist @sixpennydame 

[discoscoob]

YOUNG DONNIE BARKSDALE HEADCANONS

ִ ˙ ✩°˖🍂⋆｡˚ Note: contains upsetting and distressing themes involving teen suicide, murder, abuse and parental neglect. This is angsty as hell, fellas :(

Note ii: I do not intend to romanticise or excuse any of the following, these are merely thoughts and ideas inspired works of fiction. I do not support or defend men like Donnie in the real world. If you think the following will be upsetting or triggering, I strongly advice not reading. You are responsible for your own choices. Thank you!

I’m using Keanu’s character Matt from the film River’s Edge as inspiration and a template for my headcanons for young Donnie Barksdale.

Family Dynamics

➤ Donnie never had a proper father figure in his life growing up and he never knew his real father.

➤ His mother suffered with alcoholism, leading to her neglecting him and his younger siblings.

➤ She would drift between different relationships, often with toxic boyfriends that Donnie would frequently get into verbal or physical fights with in an attempt to defend/protect his mother and younger siblings.

➤ As the oldest sibling, he felt responsible and pressured to fulfill a paternal role for his younger sister and brother.

➤ Prematurely stepping into this paternal role, without any healthy or positive guidance to draw from, meant Donnie didn’t possess the emotional maturity needed in order to fill that role properly.

➤ Donnie received little to no experience of healthy discipline himself growing up, which resulted in him mimicking the only discipline he ever experienced, which came from his mother’s toxic boyfriends.

➤ His first experience of using violence and aggression as a form of control and punishment began with his younger brother.

➤ When his younger brother started heading into a rebellious and reckless phase, without any sign of growing out of it, Donnie attempted to take control of his behaviour by using violence and aggression.

➤ Donnie’s softer side came out towards his little sister, the youngest sibling. He tried to be more protective and nurturing towards her. Despite his intentions being good natured, his attempts to overcompensate for the emotional and physical neglect she faced from their mother, lead to his protectiveness over his sister to become increasingly more controlling.

➤ This overprotectiveness would later extended to his romantic relationships with women and evolve into more possessive and controlling behaviour.

➤ Because Donnie never had a proper, healthy role model to look up to, he was never taught how to properly manage his emotions, leading to an inability to manage conflicts healthily.

His Friends Influence

➤ Donnie’s high school friend group became the only male influences in his life he had any positive association with. His friends were the only thing he had to fill the emotional voids within his life, this made the sense of brotherhood he felt he had developed with them incredibly sacred to him, something which he would protect no matter what.

➤ His loyalty to his friends was put to the ultimate test when one of his friends, John, murdered his girlfriend, Jamie. Donnie was pressured by his friend group to stay quiet in order to protect John.

➤ This had an everlasting detrimental impact to Donnie’s moral compass and desensitise him to violence, especially violence against women.

➤ The fear of losing the only sense of belonging he ever had on top of his fear of abandonment was enough to convince him to overlook John’s crime.

➤ This is the point in Donnie’s life where loyalty vs betrayal became more important to him than right vs wrong.

Prospects and Substance Abuse

➤ Struggling in school would often lead to Donnie skipping class or not showing up to school altogether. His poor performance in high school, on top of the poor amount of opportunities in his rural town, left Donnie with very few options.

➤ Donnie was already pretty disillusioned by life at a relatively young age, due to the lack of opportunities in his rural town and any dream of escapism he had seemed unattainable.

➤ He would smoke weed with his friends when they skipped school and when Donnie became older and accepted any, usually low-paying and physically demanding, job he could find, he would turn to alcohol and other harder substances as a coping mechanisms and a form of escapism.

➤ His drinking and substance abuse would only contribute to his violent and abusive behaviour.

His Sister’s Suicide

➤ Matt was in his mid to late twenties when his little sister took her own life. She was still only a teenager. She was struggling to cope with her own issues that developed from growing up within her toxic and dysfunctional family dynamic.

➤ At this point in his life, Donnie was already struggling with alcoholism and substance abuse as a coping mechanisms for his unfulfilling life, but it would become far worse after losing his sister.

➤ None of his romantic relationships were ever healthy, thanks to a combination of factors such as his abandonment issues, his relationship with violence and his inability to handle his emotions in a healthy manner (to name a few.)

➤ Most of his relationships failed because any potential threat to the relationship or lack of control triggered his anger and insecurities, usually caused by his jealousy or controlling behaviour.

➤ But losing his sister only worsened his toxic and unhealthy behaviour within his romantic relationships.

➤ He would cling tighter to his partners than ever before and that would manifest as manipulation and control. He would isolate his partner from their friends and family, forcing them to be completely reliant on him. Any hint of disloyalty or emotional distance from his partner would trigger violent outbursts.

➤ Donnie views his sister’s death as another one of his failures in life. Blaming himself for not protecting her enough, even though his protection of her had already developed into something that was toxic and overbearing, unknowingly contributing to the number of issues his sister was struggling to cope with.

➤ Donnie always perceived his intentions towards his sister to be good natured, as that’s how they began and honestly she was the one person he genuinely loved the most. Although he never learnt how to nurture and maintain healthy feelings and emotions, resulting in them all becoming warped and toxic. In his mind, he never hurt his sister or contributed to her turmoil.

➤ Therefore, when she took her own life, part of him saw it as a betrayal after all the sacrifices he made to protect her.

➤ The fragile relationship Donnie developed with masculinity, due to the major influences from his high school friends, his mother’s toxic boyfriend’s and the old rural town’s dated attitudes, left him unable to process his grief in a healthy manner—perceiving sadness as weakness. His grief would instead be channelled in bouts of uncontrollable anger and deep, depressive episodes.

Jamie and Jessica parallels

➤ When Jessica’s body is pulled from Donnie’s lake, it gives him flashbacks to seeing Jamie’s body at the river’s edge.

➤ When Donnie becomes a suspect and later charged with Jessica’s murder, questions about his involvement in Jamie’s murder resurface.

[hyperlexichypatia]

What some of y'all call "recovery" and "healing" is just... growing up.

The theme I keep coming back to, the theme I keep writing about over and over, is the inextricability of ableism (specifically neurobigotry) and ageism.

The pathologizing of youth. The infantilizing of disabled adults. The structuring and micromanaging of childhood leading to ever more opportunities for "deviancy" to be classified as "disordered." The "neurological" push to raise the age of majority. The constant framing of disabled parents and caregivers as "unfit" or "bad influences" on children. And on and on.

Ageism and neurobigotry are such an interconnected tangle loop mobius strip that people are using the "healing"/"recovery" framework for basic human maturation.

When you were little, you uncritically accepted the worldview of your parents and other adults in your life, but now that you're older and "recovered," you see it differently?

That's called growing up. You grew up.

When you had less information and experience informing your worldview, you saw things one way, and now that you've "healed," you see things differently?

That's called learning. You learned new information and changed your perspective accordingly.

Look, learning and change and growth and maturation are (or should be) lifelong processes with no endpoint, and one of the cultural factors making people so weird about "maturity" and age of majority issues is the assumption that a "Real Adult" is in their fixed final form. So people think "If I've changed and grown in the past 5 years, that means that 5-years-ago Me was Still A Child and should not have been allowed to make major life-altering decisions," and also think that once they reach An Endpoint, they can or should stop changing. And that's a problem.

But. But. Changes in one's relationship to oneself and one's family of origin are especially common during times of major transition. That's not pathological. That's not even abnormal. If you see the world differently than you did before a major life transition, that does not mean that you went from a diseased state to a nondiseased state ("recovery"), or from an injured state to an uninjured state ("healing"). Time passed. You got older. Everyone else got older. You changed. Other people changed. Your family changed. The social context in which you live changed. The pathology paradigm has no place in this phenomenon.

People are out here saying that "People should heal themselves before they have their own children," and then when asked, what they mean by "heal themselves" is "learn how to effectively communicate with children." That. That is a skill. Learning a skill is not "healing." Lack of a particular skill set is not a disorder you have to "recover" from. You just have to learn the skill.

But that's also why when we say "You don't have to recover from your disabilities, recovery isn't a moral obligation," people say things like "You want to use your disability as an excuse not to change and grow."

My good bitch, what does change and growth have to do with recovery?

And this isn't even a new observation, because people have talked about how parents of developmentally disabled children will credit "therapy" and "recovery" for their children's natural developmental trajectory (if your child gained a skill after a year of intensive therapy, that doesn't mean "the therapy worked," that means they got older and developed the maturation to acquire that skill). A lot of the rhetoric around early childhood education does the same thing (the reason your 6 year old can hold a pencil now and he couldn't last year is because his bones got stronger and his fine motor skills improved, not because his high-quality preschool made him ready to compete).

But this. This is adults doing it to themselves! And it's so very original-sin-coded. You are born Unhealthy, but through continual effort and right practice, you can Recover and Heal.

No! You just grew up!