#if somebody were to force me to figure out ONE thing to like most about this depresso verse

[mythvoiced]

Aeri can’t decide what she hates more - the way the bejeweled pin in the victor from District 8’s hair is lopsided, or the girl herself. Oh, what Aeri wouldn’t give to wear such an accessory again, or even wear the finery the victor has been gifted to wear to the viewing. That was her once, wasn’t it?

But now? She’s stuck here, watching this spectacle. The brat, who has no idea what privilege she’s been presented with, keeps on creasing the delicate threads of her gown and her stylists also clearly have no idea on how to do the brat’s makeup. And then there’s that damn pin- Aeri’s pin once upon a time- only in place because it’s tangled in there-

And Aeri can’t hold back. When the brat’s stylists are gone, she reaches into the girl’s hair and extracts the pin. Her fingers, callused from years of hard labor that still feels foreign to Aeri, are quick to untangle most of the obvious knots in the brat’s hair before shetwists the locks into a ponytail and then a bun. The pin goes back in.

Aeri glares at the girl through the mirror. Don’t you dare mess up my work.

( congrats lenlen!! you get....aeri, being really resentful, i hope marìa doesn't mind too much ^^' )

@stillresolved | !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! LET HER BE RESENTFUL

---

There's a harshness to being dolled up when you are in no way receptive to it.

María isn't foreign to the roughness of life - she's a fucking Victor, after all, isn't she - she's started working in factories just about around the age even the most moral of District 8 people might turn their back in fear on seeing her walk in, pretending not seeing her would free them of the responsibility of working with a child.

Her hands and nose and palate and lungs had long gotten used and keep getting used to the aftermath of working with chemicals, of being so very intimate with garments and colours, with fumes and heat, with the hard work of surviving, with the hard work of fighting to be allowed a minimal chance at said survival, at figuring that there's little more for people from District 8 to fight for.

Still... it's not the same.

Being pushed around, dressed in things she would have never chosen for herself to serve a people, a man, because she's not stupid enough to not be able to tell what is Capitol and what is Snow and how Capitol is Snow, it's a kind of biting and harsh and rough that doesn't leave behind the usual kind of scars and memories and bruises.

Even surviving the Games had come with a desperately accepted sense of relief, one covered in blood and the humiliation of all she'd done and all she'd thought she'd get to accomplish, only for reality to crash in on her in a victory she hadn't wanted to partake in, hadn't wanted to make possible, when she'd wanted her Games to be victor-less in lieu of ending the Games themselves.

This... this is humiliation in the long run. This has hardly any hope attached to it, waiting for her on the other end of the line. Sometimes, on the worst days, it feels like the true brunt of the battle, walking with blood-stained soles and palms and sparkling as she does, wearing all that might make even the softest source of light appear like flames reflecting off her frame, covering her in fire that had not eaten her alive - much to a few people's disdain.

Picking at things, not holding still, grimacing, shifting her muscles, arms, face to make her stylists' life as difficult as possible, it was all she had to fight back.

The Arena came with death and violence, and living back at home had been physical labour upon physical labour, straining her young body until she could no longer tell if she was broken beyond repair or fitter than children her age should be - had they grown up privileged within the Capitol's safety.

Here she has only threads to tear apart and reflections to glare at.

And a new challenge behind every door.

She feels yanked back, an intensity of motion caused less by the avox suddenly in her hair and more her own stiffness that hadn't prepared her for submission to someone suddenly rearranging her.

After her stylists had left, she'd succumbed to the tension of not wanting to be there, without the added hard work of making sure everybody else does. Lost in her thought, somebody's hands suddenly returning on her had fortified, molten it into a newly forged blade, stiff and ready to strike, tensing everything within her and making a few fingers in her hair turn into a grappling hook tied to a moving mountain.

María is startled enough she can't remember how to glare.

A frown does accompany her widened eyes anyway, making her look... appalled, almost, an addition to her expression so unsuited to typically frightened features, youth tainted by the face of someone used to having to fight to stay alive.

It almost happens in a flash then. The reflection moves and adjusts and fixes and what had started as something that had María's lips split into something acid and trembling, turns into something unpleasant and acrid, but silent, as María sits and lets herself be mandhandled one more time.

That's when she glares. After the avox finishes up, after their eyes meet in the mirror and María sees none of the downturned gazes they're trying to make her accustomed to.

Seeing avoxes pisses her off.

Why take it out on them.

She understands what they are, what they're supposed to represent.

To her, an avox is a statement. No longer a person but rather someone rid of their innate right to be considered one. Even with the determination and life in this avox' eyes, María has come to understand them as tools Snow uses to assert his dominance, people from all circles of life, punished with the robbing of their words... and their detached tongue metaphorically forced to lick away at the tip of the shoes of people like María.

All a scheme.

Infighting.

Use the prey on the prey, make them take each other out.

It'd be easier to feel pity if María could sleep, if the avox hadn't adjusted her appearance, and if the avox wasn't staring her down as if she had any right to do so.

She's oddly beautiful.

She's oddly familiar.

"Why are you helping them?" she hisses, low, whispered, because she might never admit it, but she's... she's a little scared, isn't she? Lately? Devora's face swims before her inner eye, so stern, so wrong.

"I'm on your side more than they are," she adds, pulling a strand of her hair out of the freshly adjusted bun.

[revehae]

dear hyuckie

pairing ↠ athlete!haechan x (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, mc is a terrible person, stalking, unprotected sex, baby trapping

summary ↠ for the longest time, you've been obsessed with haechan and wanted him to yourself, but he hardly notices you. to grab his attention, you start sending him anonymous love letters.

wc ↠ 6.0k

a/n ↠ part 5/5 of the college-capades series!

don’t like it, don’t read.

so fucking annoying, you hissed to yourself, poking around the corner. 

your eyes were fixed on the boy’s locker room door that was, to your chagrin, being guarded by the basketball team captain.

who you never liked. jung jaehyun, you thought irritably. he was undeniably good-looking, you’d give him that, but he was arrogant. haechan would make a much finer captain. where jaehyun was a cocky asshole, haechan was none too prideful but enthusiastic nonetheless.

you’d heard haechan giving pre-game pep talks to his team and motivating them not to feel guilty on the occasions where they lost. he was a natural at lifting other’s spirits. obviously, he was the driving force in the team. 

not jung jaehyun, who leaned on the door, laughing at texts on his phone most likely from a bunch of girls dying to do him. though you most definitely weren’t one of them, there were many. 

and you happened to know one of them.

“thought i’d find you here,” you said, pretending to only now be walking up the path. given that his eyes were locked on his phone screen, jaehyun was none the wiser. 

jaehyun flitted his gaze to you. “how’d you figure that?”

“oh, you know. my hot guy radar was going off,” you flirted, your own words like poison on your tongue. but hopefully worth it.

that had his attention. jaehyun chuckled, pocketing his phone, then said, “i thought you said i wasn’t your type?”

“you’re not,” you replied flatly. “but i know somebody who’s a little more open-minded.”

jaehyun’s brows furrowed. the implications behind that weren’t lost on him. “are you joking?”

“nope,” you chirped, though you were absolutely lying. “rosé wants you to come over. she’s too chicken to tell you herself and i was nearby, so she sent me instead.”

rosé and jaehyun had raging heart eyes (and boners) for each other since the day they locked eyes. though rosé, your dear friend and the only reason you knew jaehyun, was scared that he was too much of a fuckboy. their interactions never amounted to anything more than flirty exchanges after a game, but they definitely wanted each other.

maybe it was a slight fib. rosé had said nothing of the sort, but it was the best lie you could come up with and you desperately needed something impactful enough to get jaehyun away from that door. your best friend would be thanking you later.

“shit, okay. what’s her address?”

maybe it wasn’t the best move to give a boy both of you barely knew your best friend’s address, even if she had the hots for him, but you were in too much of a hurry to give a damn about ethical decision-making. 

“and jaehyun,” you called out after him when he started to leave. 

jaehyun turned his head. “yeah?”

donning the role of a helpful acquaintance, in spite of how much you loathed this guy, you advised sweetly, “maybe stop to the store first. get her some flowers or a box of chocolates. she likes those. i know you probably don’t leave the house without condoms.”

jaehyun’s shoulders shook while he laughed and threw his hands up. “you got me. thanks for looking out.”

your answer was kind, though in reality, the only reason you gave him helpful advice was because you wanted to slow him down just in case rosé wasn’t home. you quickly sent her a vague text and unapologetically mentioned that you would make it up to her later.

jesus, the things i do for you, lee donghyuck, you thought dreamily. if only he knew how much you liked him.

for lack of a better word, of course. to be frank, you were enamored with his whole being. just the thought of haechan had your legs quivering and your heart thumping against your chest. thoughts of him were all-consuming. you couldn’t eat sometimes without wondering if he had ate.

given that you were running out of time, you quickly slipped into the locker room, glancing around to make sure the coast was clear before you invaded. fortunately, with jaehyun set on getting laid, there was nobody else around. 

except for the love of your life.

you heard a shower running, just as you knew it would be. you happened to overhear haechan mentioning to a friend that he would be in the locker rooms for a moment to shower and figured it was your time to spy. your footsteps were quiet, gentle. half of the time, it didn’t bother you so bad that he wasn’t attracted to you. it was better that way.

after tiptoeing around, you reached his locker, shoving a letter inside the slit. although it would have been rational to leave then and there, you couldn’t shake the temptations brewing in your guts where you desperately needed him. he was naked, just in the shower room. and you wanted a sneak peak.

against your better judgment, you crept around the corner, poking your head out to see if he was exposed. there was a long column of showers and just your luck, the curtains of the seventh stall were drawn. guess he wasn’t very shy. you could see a sliver of haechan’s dampened skin, bits of his leg and shoulder.

you licked your lips at the mouth-watering thought you’d had. given the chance, you wouldn’t waste a second to get down on your knees for him and give him the best head of his life. your plans were nothing short of vile, but a part of you liked to assume all would be forgiven when he realized that you were made for each other. 

not if. when.

when the shower came to a dry stop, you snapped out of your thoughts and took it as a sign to get out unnoticed, slipping away like a thief in the night.

but the letter in haechan’s locker didn’t go unnoticed.

well, kind of. he thought it was a joke, but he read it nonetheless. it wasn’t that far-fetched to assume that one of the guys were probably pranking him. granted, none of them called him by the nickname hyuckie, but they sometimes called him hyuck.

naturally, haechan didn’t think much of it until the second letter appeared, and it was somewhat more descriptive.

dear hyuckie, why do you wither in the wind and come to life in the sun, the letter started. i always think it’s unfair that nobody can match your undeniable charm, let it be on a swabbed court or with a bewitched crowd. kidding. others should envy what is yours.

there was more, of course, but haechan didn’t get to read that far before the letter was rudely snatched out of his hands.

“what’s that?” jaemin asked, nosily pulling the letter out haechan’s hand. 

haechan groaned, “dude, give it back.”

jaemin instead backed off, just out of arm’s reach of haechan. “guys, you’ve gotta come read this shit,” he said in amusement. “‘dear hyuckie, why do you wither in the wind and come to life in the sun?’”

jaemin continued to read until the end, blocking haechan’s attempts to steal the letter back while somehow also keeping the high-pitched, mocking tone of a woman. not too much later, haechan gave up on keeping it to himself, accepting defeat. the letter droned on about his performances on the court, how you watched every game with your eyes fixed to only him. how you wanted to be there to kiss him during his triumphs, but hold him during his losses.

haechan was used to fangirls. he was one of the most prominent members of a prominent team at an equally prominent school, backed by deals and endorsements. needless to say, there were more than a lot of girls that felt the same as you.

it was his first time getting a letter addressed directly to his locker, however. uproar was what he was accustomed to. this was quieter, subtle. you didn’t want to blend in with everybody else, and yet, you chose to be unheard.

johnny nudged his side. “shit, hyuck. looks like you’ve got a secret admirer on your hands.”

jaehyun laughed. “wither in the wind, come to life in the sun. what does that even mean?”

“yeah, i’m sure you wouldn’t have the wits to know,” mark quipped.

jaehyun shot him a glare while everybody else laughed at jaehyun’s expense. except for haechan, who was irritated.

“i thought you guys sent this,” haechan mused. “you know, ‘cause of the hyuckie thing.”

jaemin placed a hand on his teammate’s shoulder and jeered, “hate to break it to you, man, but nobody in this room wants to suck your dick.”

“fuck off, man,” haechan said, shoving him off. “i meant i thought it was a prank the first time.”

johnny lifted a brow. “the first time? you mean you got one before this?”

plopping down on a bench, haechan bobbed his head. “yeah, the exact same way. same delivery, same salutation, same handwriting, different content,” he explained.

“you scared?” jaehyun asked, teasing. 

“i’m not scared, i’m just a little worried. i mean, nobody should be able to get inside the locker room,” haechan ranted. 

“thing’s old,” johnny retorted. “might fall apart if they don’t renovate this summer. relax, man. it’s just some chick that wants to bone you. you should be happy bitches are lining up for you.”

haechan heaved a breath and gave in, letting the guys convince him that he was being overdramatic. it wasn’t that haechan didn’t enjoy feeling wanted, that couldn’t have been any further from the truth, but there was something in his gut that told him that you weren’t like the others.

you were far more dangerous than he would ever know, until the moment when it was too late for him to be saved.

but days of letters became weeks and haechan was becoming increasingly more alarmed. the letters multiplied, the content intensifying. though he wanted to tell someone, maybe get somebody to check some security camera footage, he didn’t want to be called a wimp.

so he thugged it out.

you, on the other hand, were over the moon that he was finally paying attention to you - kind of. you were sick of just being another girl in the arena. the letters differentiated you from the others. and at one point, they weren’t just letters anymore. they were bralettes and panties sticky with your arousal, attached with letters of you describing intricately how you got yourself off to him.

never once did you touch yourself without thinking of haechan, of how badly you wanted to break him and ruin him for the next woman (not that there would be one. ultimately, you were going to make sure that there wouldn’t be). wincing your eyes closed, hands buried between your own legs, you pictured his moist, dampened face, sticky with sweat that chased down his backside.

you wanted to tire him, to test his limits. you stalked him more or less everyday, peeking behind the bleachers to watch him practice. you knew what he could take, how far he could be pushed and shoved before the force became entirely too brutal and knocked the wind out of him.

sometimes the thoughts of him became overbearing. you couldn’t sleep because of him, falling behind in your classes because you couldn’t think of any that didn’t concern him. too much time was invested on keeping an eye on him during practice and following him on his way home. just to make sure he was safe, of course.

not that he had anything to worry about, though that wasn’t your definition of keeping him safe. any girls that dared deter him, even breathe in his general direction, you perceived as threats that needed to be eliminated.

you just had to fall for a popular guy. he was well-liked for a reason, and it went beyond his undeniably good looks. the charisma he wielded in the palm of his hands, how he dominated the whole court. the golden player, you thought with whimsical hope, pining. it was the title he’d been dubbed for obvious reasons.

nevertheless, he would always be your hyuckie. more often than not, it didn’t always register within you quickly when those around you referred to him as haechan, because he was so much more than that to you. nobody would ever understand the life you’d already crafted together in your brain, revolving utterly around him. where he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

nobody could tell you that he wasn’t reading your letters, even if you never saw it in real time to be certain. because when his eyes flitted around during practice as you discreetly kept yours fixed to his frame, when he glanced over his shoulder while he took the journey home, you knew it was because he was uneasy. almost as if he could feel you watching. 

haechan could feel you watching.

he couldn’t see you, he couldn’t be sure who exactly you were, but he knew you were there somewhere. it was a gut feeling that sickened him almost too frequently.

it started during practice, the final preparations for the night’s game. during said game that night, the wrenching in his gut only intensified. you were there, obviously, like you never failed to be. antsy, haechan struggled to keep himself together during the match, but nobody would’ve ever guessed from simply looking.

nobody except you. you’d learned to recognize him in the distraught that was natural around you, as if it was his body’s self-preservation instincts.

still, he talked to you for the first time that night. rosé evidently knew of your more than little crush on haechan, though she was none the wiser to how desperately you needed a fix. she thought it was an innocent fondness. your impromptu trick (unfortunately) thrusted rosé and jaehyun into a relationship, and when it became known to him that you had the hots for his teammate, he didn’t wait a second to introduce you to each other.

to your shock, it was a pleasantly good first encounter. haechan still felt the nerves, but reduced them to post-game jitters, something he made up solely to feel comfortable again.

it wasn’t like you were the secret admirer or stalker, or whatever weirdo that was obsessed with him. for lack of a better word, you were just so normal-looking.

you didn’t at all seem like how he imagined a debatably batshit stalker to be. haechan thought you were pretty and amusing, matched his personality like you’d met in a past life. haechan had seen you before, you were besties with one of the most popular girls on campus and his captain’s crush, but he never thought he would enjoy your company.

that was how it all began. you talked for weeks, not leaving without each other’s numbers. when he wasn’t looking, you pinched yourself over and over, wondering if you were dreaming. you knew that you would click. you knew that you were fated to be together. 

as annoying as it was to admit, you actually owed jaehyun. he’d done you a massive favor. though, when you remembered that you were the sole reason he was even dating rosé in the first place, you considered yourself even. nevermind that it was an inadvertent mistake.

you spent many nights on the phone with haechan. given that you’d commited yourself to learning everything there was to know about him already, you came prepared with more than a handful of facts, though you pretended not to know so that you could impress him. chess, not checkers, you thought smugly to yourself, noticing the envious glares of multiple girls when you walked hand in hand with haechan.

you were winning. and you couldn’t believe it. but just when you were starting to have a taste of sweet, sweet victory, your self-restraint crumbled.

you’d been waiting too long. something needed to be done to satiate all the carnal energies running rampant through your veins, and it was no secret what the cure was.

haechan could feel that borderline debilitating sensation stirring in his gut again. it was like a shiver chilling its way down his spine, an itch that he just couldn’t shake.

to make matters even stranger, he was alone in his apartment.

or so he thought. midnight loomed over the night sky, thick clouds draped over probably bright stars. they stared back at him, just outside his bedroom window that he’d forgotten to draw the curtains of.

haechan had that habit, you noticed. men typically didn’t have to worry about the same things that women did, locking their car doors at gas stations and looking over their shoulders when they walked alone at night. it was so naive of him to believe he would ever truly be safe.

then again, you were only as dangerous as he allowed you to be.

checking his phone, haechan noted that he missed a call from you, having fallen asleep nearly the second he stepped out of the shower. practice was long and rough; his muscles were sore. he had wanted nothing more than to collapse on the nearest flat surface.

for whatever reason, he dialed you back. he remembered you mentioning that you would be up all night, catching up on some classwork you never explained why you were behind on and he never asked, but he also felt safer when he heard your voice. the letters stopped shortly after he started talking to you and that idiotically wasn’t suspicious to him. he was making this all too easy.

your voice sounded a little surprised. “hello?”

“hey,” haechan said, voice raspy from drowsiness. “bad time?”

“no, never,” was what you said, because you were always down to talk, though needless to say, the call took you by surprise.

haechan thought nothing of it. he assumed you were working and didn’t expect a call this late. “sorry for missing your call. i passed out after i came back from practice.”

“it’s fine, hyuckie. i promise. i understand,” you crooned sweetly. you saw how hard he worked and you respected it.

“okay, cool,” haechan replied, heaving a breath of relief. then it hit him - that nickname and where he’d heard it before, and his heart stopped. “wait, what did you just call me?”

you swore under your breath, realizing that you’d officially blown your cover. you could have played it off, could have played dumb and innocently pretended not to know, but that shipped sailed the second haechan heard your cursing from his hallway.

haechan sat up, speaking your name. “why are you in my apartment?”

the call disconnected. haechan’s stomach was beset with unease, knots taut. somewhere entangled in the attraction to you was the inescapable feeling that you weren’t safe.

all haechan could hear for a moment was his own ragged breathing. there was no sign of you. no footsteps, no breathing. it would’ve been in his best interest to stand to his feet, or maybe just call the police, given that you’d somehow broken in. but maybe he underestimated just how threatening you were.

because when the doors suddenly burst open, there you stood, holding a gun in your hand.

“sit down,” you commanded when you noticed him abruptly stand. aiming the gun a little higher, you persisted, “i said, sit down!”

“okay, okay. i’m sitting,” haechan replied, dropping back against his sheets.

you took long, quick strides towards his bed, holding the weapon squarely at his brain while you emptied your pockets and cuffed him down. it was a graceless, clumsy exploit. for whatever reason, haechan watched you struggle, when it would’ve been his greatest opportunity to escape.

after a moment of struggling to cuff him with one hand to spare, the other too occupied with the gun directed towards his head, you leaned back to admire your handiwork. haechan didn’t even notice that you’d straddled him until you rocked a little, swallowing his apprehension with one gulp.

haechan released a shaky breath, calling out your name again. “what are you doing?”

“the obvious,” was all you said.

“it’s you.” haechan’s mind was ablaze with thought, remembering how you’d tortured him for all these weeks endlessly. “you’re the stalker.”

“i’m not just any old fucking stalker, hyuckie,” you hissed, bristling at that word. it distanced you from him. it belittled the connection sparked to life between the two of you. “i’m your lover. don’t you see?”

his lover of a long time. he never noticed you before, how you’d prance behind him in high school during your free time, surrendering your lunch time to watch him play around with his friends. how you always made sure there was a spare pencil on his desk in middle school, because he frequently got scolded for never remembering to bring one. 

you’d watched him turn into a beautiful young man over the years, but haechan never spared you a glance, not until you were forced to be slightly relevant in his life. you were sick and tired of being ignored. you were at the end of your tether, a lifetime of pining culminating in destruction. 

haechan’s head hung low, like he wasn’t even paying attention to you. it made your blood boil, rage and loathing seeping throbbing in your chest. “look at me!” you screamed. “why won’t you look at me?”

haechan, heart thumping violently, lifted his head to make eye contact with you. tears stung your eyes, reddening them. “you aren’t who i thought you were,” he whispered.

the audacity on this boy. “don’t you dare treat yourself like a fucking victim,” you snarled, seething. “this wasn’t a secret. not for us. i can tell from how you looked at me that deep down inside, you knew. our brains know the truth.”

haechan shook his head. “what are you talking about?”

“you could have easily snatched the gun out my hands and pushed me off. i’m not superwoman. but you didn’t, you didn’t do anything, because you knew what you wanted,” you responded, frantic, almost like you were deluding yourself.

but you weren’t - not this time. haechan sensed that something was off about you and still continued to talk to you. he watched you struggle, when it would’ve taken nothing for an athlete like him to throw you off, to overpower you and render you defenseless.

“i don’t…,” haechan trailed. 

“you do,” you sneered, vicious. “and you aren’t going to ruin our moment together just because you don’t want to admit it, hyuckie. you don’t know how long i’ve wanted this. how long i’ve worked to this.”

you threw the gun aside, because it was never loaded in the first place, and you couldn’t fathom ever hurting him. it was strictly to keep him pliant, to make sure that he didn’t ruin the moment. you’d been planning this for ages. you’d be damned if you let it deviate in any way from the plan etched into your brain.

shifting your attention to what you were really after, you allowed your hands to wander up his thighs, pulling at his boxers. haechan’s eyes widened with panic. “stop,” he told you, fretful.

what made the moment even more bizarre to haechan was that you merely giggled. “relax, hyuckie,” you crooned, at least in your head reassuring. “i’ll go slow, i promise. i really want to savor our first time forever. make it something we’ll never forget.”

haechan’s alarm only strengthened. 

when you grew tired of his frequent protests, you blew out an irritated breath and grabbed the ducktape that had fallen from your jacket pockets, dangling it in his face as you threatened, “keep bitching and i’ll have to shut you up. i don’t want that and i know you don’t want it either.”

haechan quieted, pinching his lips together. he was in no place to deny you.

you removed his underwear, revealing his soft cock, although that was an easy fix. gently gripping his cock in your palm, you began to fist him to life, a sensitive little sigh breaking out of him at the first touch of your supple hand.

the whiplash haechan was getting was jarring and he felt nothing short of conflicted. on the one hand, you were his daring stalker, the one sending him dubious letters alongside the inappropriate clothing and used sex items. he should’ve darted the second he had a chance. but on the other, he found himself genuinely starting to grow attached to you, and you seemingly knew what to do with your hands.

in a matter of moments, haechan was very much hard, and it was much simpler than you would’ve thought to get him up, all things considered. all it took was squeezing his balls a little.

you were eyeing him like a predator and it made haechan feel justifiably uncomfortable. many nights were spent with a thick toy stuffed between your legs in lieu of his stiff cock, your eyes fluttering closed, with you moaning his name as you imagined you were riding the soul out of him. the same toys you would send to him, showing him just how badly he’d ruined you.

none of it was in vain. you finally had the real deal right in front of you, cock as thick and delicious as you imagined it to be, and the sight was mouth-watering.

you grabbed haechan’s jaw, correcting his gaze, and said assertively, “eyes on me.”

it was very pleasing when he obeyed, keeping his eyes fixed to your frame as you undressed. underneath the thick jacket you’d worn to stuff all of your supplies, you were sporting nothing but a racy set of lingerie.

haechan visibly gulped and you giggled, never bothering to cloak yourself amusement. just like he couldn’t cloak his desire, no matter how much he balked. “do you like it, hyuckie?” you asked, cocking your head. “i wore it just for you.”

as of right now, it would’ve been in his best interest to tell you what you wanted to hear. that was what this was all about. you were claiming this moment as a rendezvous between lovers, even if haechan didn’t quite reciprocate your feelings, and you wanted him to feed into your delusions.

but it helped that you were stunning, and if you’d done this the normal way, haechan probably would’ve voluntarily slept with you. he mustered the courage to speak, “you’re gorgeous.”

“don’t flatter me,” you joked, glancing to the mattress as you giggled, playing coy. “well, if you like it so much, then i guess i’ll keep it on.”

like he was shy or something, haechan just nodded his head to show that he understood.

though it was you that had terrified him out of speaking in the first place, you prodded him on, asking, “do you want to touch me, hyuckie?”

“touch you how?” haechan knew the answer, it was obvious at this point, but he was reluctant. 

again, you giggled, twinkling with mischief. you freed one of his hands and grabbed it, slipping it right under your panties, and made a noise when you felt his warmth against your aroused, aching core. “see, i’m so wet for you,” you whispered, sticking his hand back out and bringing his fingers to his lip. “taste.”

it did haechan no good to refuse you of what you wanted, so he opened his mouth, sucking your arousal off of his own fingers. 

you watched him attentively. “do i taste good?”

when he nodded, the brightest smile slipped onto your lips. for the longest time, you’d imagined riding his face into oblivion, but that would have to be scheduled for another time. right now, you wanted to ride his cock.

without a second thought, you grabbed haechan’s cock in your hand, slipping your panties to the side just enough so that you could sink down on his size. you moaned immediately, and so did haechan, his lips parted.

something about his cock just scratched something in your brain. he was much warmer than the dildos you played make-believe with, and a little thicker, too. you took your sweet, precious time to sink down on him completely, going slow and steady because you wanted to linger in the heat of him.

haechan was wallowing in the kneading warmth of your tight pussy way too much to realize that you hadn’t even thought of a condom. all of the little things you brought for this sexcapade, from the duct tape to the gun, and not a single condom was in sight.

“you know, i’ve been saving myself for you,” you confessed, staring haechan plain in the eye. 

knowing just how committed you were to making a life with him through haechan for a loop. “you did?” he asked.

“why are you surprised? haven’t you been reading my letters?” you questioned, grinning. your heart was warm and there was nothing that could be done to undo your ecstasy. “i’ll never want anyone as much as i want you, hyuckie. there’s no point in other guys. i only see you.”

if this situation had unfolded any differently, your feelings and devotion would be something haechan was lucky enough to have, but he knew your true, reckless nature. it wasn’t romantic and it wasn’t beautiful, not like you thought it was inside of your head. it was creepy and it was off-putting, and you were a threat.

but you had been blind to reality for so long that you didn’t realize how unlawful your behavior really was, and if you did realize, you didn’t care. you were numbed by love, driven by fear of losing the love of your life to an undeserving whore.

leaning to grab the tiny little key perched on his nightstand, you decided haechan had earned to have his other hand uncuffed, though it was really because you wanted him to touch you. you grabbed his wrists, guiding his hands flat against your hips, and told him to keep them there.

even though haechan wanted to be terrified, and part of him was exactly that, he couldn’t deny that he was enamored with how your pussy squeezed him for dear life. you heard the little noises of his that filled the air, the desperate, shaky moans, and knew what he wanted.

all you ever wanted was for the longing to be mutual and at least, how it occurred to you in your mind, you were finally starting to get what you always wanted. it drove you crazy, hearing those pitched whines of your name from his own mouth.

he’s going to be mine forever. i’ll make sure of it, came your raging thoughts, and though they warred endlessly over him, your whole being agreed on one thing.

lee donghyuck belonged to you, and anyone who dared try to steal what was rightfully yours would be eradicated by any means necessary.

“i love you so much,” you admitted, even though it wasn’t a secret. you had poured out your heart to him through your letters, but the heat and passion of the sex made you even more vulnerable. “it’s okay you don’t feel the same way right now, because you will. one day, you’ll love me so much, you won’t even think of another girl.”

haechan said nothing, maybe blocking out your crazy rambles, maybe it was all white noise to him. what you did know, though, was that he couldn’t escape the undiscriminating reins of temptation. you felt how he tried to match your thrusts, grinding his cock into your pussy from below. he might’ve hated how crazy you were, but he loved how you gushed around his cock.

through the misty haze of pleasure, everything else failed to matter. he could only think with his dick, about how you were pulsing around him, the sweet sounds your pussy made as it wrapped around him with all the desire a human could possess.

you could feel his quick, hot breaths, practically hear his heart begging for a break. his face was flushed, warm and red all over, his hair sticking to his face. sweaty moisture was inescapable, cooling down his back and up his face. your attention was fixed to his plush lips, though, wanting to kiss them desperately.

and that was exactly what you did. you anchored yourself on his shoulders, pressing your lips to haechan’s mouth as you continued to bounce on his perfect, thick cock, wanting to suck the very last breath out of him. haechan didn’t fight it, because in the heat of the moment, when tangled in the highs of sex, the windows of judgment were far too cloudy.

you hated that you could feel that fever in your gut already, though from the looks of it, you weren’t alone in your need for climax. haechan’s hips moved quicker, ravenous. he needed to cum like he needed air to breathe, and that was exactly what you wanted. if he depended on you, he would never need anybody else ever again.

whatever haechan wanted, you were willing to give to him, even if it meant going to the ends of the earth and back. because you needed him too, and you would never truly be happy until you had him right where you wanted him, wrapped around your finger.

his face tensed with pleasure, his hold on your hips getting increasingly tighter as he chased orgasm. he was practically doing all of the heavy-lifting for you, a slave to his temptations, just like every other man you’d ever met. i know all of your strengths, hyuckie, you crooned in your head. but i know all of your shortcomings, too. they’re what make you so human.

“fuck,” haechan whined, defeat heavy on his face. “i’m so close, fuck. i’m gonna cum.”

i know you are. you reached for his hand, begging, “cum with me, hyuckie. please. please, please, please.”

haechan slipped his fingers through yours, overcome by the warmth stretching through his body and tensing his muscles. he couldn’t think properly, not through the blinding mist of satisfaction.

and the two of you came just like that, hand in hand, moving your hips in a true, desperate sync that only lovers would ever know. you whined that name while haechan cried out yours, neither of you stopping in your tracks until the fog passed. haechan’s warm, plentiful cum filled your cunt, your spasming pussy milking him for every bit.

you couldn’t think of a time where you’d been more thrilled. you’d just lost your virginity to the only man you’d ever loved, and the only man you would ever love, and it was like heaven. you were in love with that gone fucking stare in his eyes, no thought or soul behind them.

you grinned with contentment. you did that. you broke that out of him. 

even after the high started to fade, you didn’t want to move off of his softening cock, keeping all of his cum buried there for a minute. you gazed to haechan, a pleading gleam in your stare as you whispered, “i don’t want you to leave me.”

haechan blinked, starting to sober. all his apprehensions came back the second he realized what he’d done. he said your name and all, attempting to let you down gently, “listen, you’re, uh… great and all. this was great. but...”

you faked a pout, because you weren’t completely an idiot. you saw this coming. even giving haechan the best sex of his life wouldn’t make him fall in love for you. you cut him off, “are you really going to abandon your own baby, hyuckie? even if you do, it’s okay, because i’ll always carry a piece of you… inside me.”

there was a smug, sly smile on your lips. not even the pleasure of the sex couldn’t rival the satisfaction of watching the realization dawn on his face.

oh, hyuckie, you sighed to yourself. you’re a fool if you thought you were getting rid of me that easily.

[sorbetisfruity]

Part twooooo to my Crowely fic!!

Oh Crowley, why can’t you get your lazy crow ass up and find us a way home?:(((

Also I’m sorry for such a late post!! I fucked up my ankle and had to be in the hospital for a lil bit!

Part 1 Part two

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You awoke to frantic yelling. The person (people??? It sounded like more than one at this point…) sounded worried and scared.

“What did you do to them?! Why did we find them PASSED OUT on your office floor Dire Crowley?!” A voice screeched out.

Oh yeah, that’s what happened.

You went off on the headmaster of the school you were forced into. The school you were forced into because you were sent here on accident and that stupid mirror can’t send you back.

And that said headmaster hasn’t been looking for a way home for you.

Now, you have zero hope of going home.

And your body hurts.

Your body hurts a lot.

It feels like there’s a cauldron on your chest. It’s heavy. You can barely breath.

Your head feels as if Crowley hit you in the head with his cane a dozen times. You can’t tell if you’re about to throw up or pass out all over again..

“I didn’t do anything! They came in, and passed out on my floor.” Crowley defended himself, completely leaving out the whole “yelling and crying” part.

“It sounded like it was way more than that.” Someone chimed in, sounding tired and pissed off.

…was that Leona??

“It was more than that..” you croaked out, opening your eyes and trying to sit up. “Way more than that..actually..”

“PREFECT!!” A series of voices shouted. You could vaguely make out their blurry figures as they ran over to you.

“Prefect, are you alright?!” Deuce yelped as he was pushed to the side almost immediately by Floyd.

“Shrimpy!! We came as soon as we heardddd!! What happened? Do I need to squeeze somebody?” He said, winking as he pointed at Crowley.

You smiled weakly, admiring his efforts to make you feel better.

Your arms nearly gave out as you tried to sit up, you felt a hand land on your back to steady you.

“Take it easy. We don’t want you getting more hurt than you already are, Prefect.”

You looked to your other side, seeing Riddle in all of his glory.

God, was everyone here??

You looked around, seeing that, yeah, everyone really came to see you.

From Leona and Ruggie, to Malleus and Lilia.

You didn’t realize they cared so much about you..

God damnit.

This makes everything so much harder.

How were you supposed to go back home knowing these guys care about you?

“Hey Herbivore, you never answered us. What happened back there?” Leona spoke, sitting down on the edge of your bed and breaking your trance.

Were you in the nurses office???

“Oh..uhm..well..I went into Crowleys office to ask him if he finally found me a way home..” you said, seeing everyone’s expressions drop as you spoke.

Gazing at everybody, you realized their once concerned expressions now looked distraught and upset.

Especially Malleus’s. Who made eye contact with you before looking at the ground, not daring to look you in the eyes.

“As most of you know, we helped Vil with his overblot yesterday..”

“And I got hurt, everybody got hurt! I almost got poisoned, I am burnt and beaten, I LIMPED to Crowleys office. I didn’t walk, I limped because my leg hurts so fucking badly.”

You could see Vil flinch out of the corner of your eye, making you look down at the bed guiltily.

Everyone looked so sad. You’re making everyone sad.

God you feel awful..

“Listen, I’m only a student, okay? A magicless one at that. I don’t have any magic to fight like you guys do. I’m practically useless in fights and magic related classes!! Do you know how hard it is to tackle these overblots when you’re magicless? I have to rely on my strength to get through these fucking things. And when they’ve been happening back-to-back for WEEKS now?? It’s hard to heal. Mentally and physically.”

“And, I love you guys so much, I promise you. I don’t regret meeting or befriending any of you. I could never regret meeting or befriending any of you. Don’t get me wrong, you guys can get annoying!” You said, looking at Ace and Grim, who gave you an offended look.

“But I love you guys a lot. I couldn’t be happier to have friends like you all.”

After your little heart-to-heart speech, they seemed a lot happier.

Lilia came over to cling to you, grabbing your left arm as Grim jumped into your lap, nuzzling you lovingly.

Leona laid down at your feet, curled up. It almost seemed as if he was going to take a nap..

Malleus came over to your left side as well, joining Lilia as he held your hand.

Azul rubbed your back comfortingly as Kalim grabbed your other hand, an uncharacteristic frown on his face.

“But guys, I’m so tired. I’m in so much pain 24/7. I can barely get any sleep because I’m in constant agony.” You complained, frowning as you looked at your legs.

There were little colorful bandages placed on all of your cuts now. But the bruises littered around still remained. They popped out to you more than the neon bandages now.

“I miss home. I miss homecooked meals and my parents! I miss my old, warm bedroom and my bed! My bed at Ramshackle feels like I’m sleeping on concrete. The meals I cook don’t taste the same anymore. Hell I can barely afford food for both me and Grim because Crowley doesn’t give us enough money. There’s been so many nights where I’ve went to bed hungry because I didn’t want Grim to.”

You could feel everyone stare at you as you talked, making you feel embarrassed.

You’re really letting everyone know everything. All the bullshit you’ve went through since you got here.

“And it’s not like I can get a job anywhere around here because no one’s hiring! And I’ve already tried everywhere here. I’ve begged and pleaded with every shop owner here, but no one will hire me because they “don’t need any help” or “already have too much staff”! But I know the real reason is because I’m magicless. I can’t do anything if I don’t have magic!!” You squeezed Malleus’s and Kalims hands as you talked, gritting your teeth as you teared up.

“I’m just…I’m so sick of it guys. I love you all so much but..ever since I got here it’s been problems and battles and various accidents left and right. I’m exhausted. I’m homesick. I’m so burnt out!! Hell, I have no idea how I’m able to keep my grades up when most of these classes involve magic. I think the teachers just take it easy on me..” you trailed off, picking at a neon blue bandaid on your leg.

“I’m so sorry for causing all of this trouble. I never meant for any of this bullshit to happen, I..” you winced as you pulled a little too hard on the bandaid you were picking at.

“…I just wanted to see if he had found me a way home yet..”

The room was flooded with silence once you stopped talking.

No one knew what to say. And, really, what could they say?

Some understood how you felt. Others had no idea, as they have never experienced this before.

However, there was one emotion everyone in that room shared.

Sadness.

They could feel the sadness wash over them like waves as you talked about home and how you miss it.

Malleus’s hand squeezed yours consolingly, making you look up at everyone.

“..Prefect.”

You turned your head towards the voice.

It was Vil.

He never called you prefect. It was always Potato, or Spudling, or Kartoffel!

And Kartoffel is just potato in German..

“I am sorry you are in so much pain. And I am sorry I have caused you so much suffering. If you’d like, I’m quite sure there is some sort of healing potion I can brew for you. That way you are in as little agony possible.” Vil took your hand from Kalim, holding it gently as to not hurt you more than he already has.

This was out of character for Vil. You never saw a soft side of him during the VDC.

But you can’t say you didn’t like it. It has been a while since you’ve been nurtured and taken care of.

Hell that hasn’t happened since..

Since you were at home. With your mother.

“And me and Jamil can cook some food for you!!! A good meal will heal you up!” Kalim said excitedly, leaning against the bed to get closer to you as he talked.

“And you are always welcome at the Mostro Lounge if you ever need some time to relax and take a breather, Prefect.” Azul spoke, still rubbing your back comfortingly.

“As you know, you’re always welcome at Heartslabyul. If you ever want to play some crochet or cards, or simply just want to relax? We’re here.” Riddle spoke, gesturing to Ace, Deuce, Cater, and Trey.

“And if your bed ain’t comfortable, come over to Savanaclaw. My beds comfy and has room for two, Herbivore.” Leona chimed in, sitting up and smirking at you.

You teared up as you looked at everyone.

You can’t believe they care about you so much. That they’d stay here and listen to you talk and offer to help you. That they actually came to see you and are worried about you.

You can’t believe that they..

That they actually care.

Tears ran down your face like waterfalls, making you let go of Vil’s and Malleus’s hands to wipe them away quickly.

“I’m sorry it was never my plan to cry in front of you all..god this so embarrassing..” you sobbed, frantically wiping your tears away.

“Prefect no!! It’s okay to cry. It’s okay. You can cry. We’re here for you.” Kalim spoke calmly, climbing up onto the bed and wrapping his arms around you.

“Kalim is right. It’s okay to cry Prefect. Get it all out..” Riddle agreed, patting your shoulder.

You could feel someone’s pointed nails running through your hair and scraping your scalp gently. It was relaxing, it felt so nice. It made you feel sleepier than you already did.

Azul rubbing your back so softly didn’t help either..

You yawned, leaning against Kalims soft shoulder as you closed your eyes.

“..thank you. I love you all so much…” you spoke sleepily, weakly raising your head to look at everyone.

“Of course Prefect. While you’re sleeping, I’ll go and make that healing potion.”

“And me and Jamil will make you some food while you’re sleeping as well. That way when you wake up, it’ll be ready!”

“Jade and Floyd will bring down some of our finest desserts from the Mostro Lounge.”

“And it can all take place at Heartslabyul. We can all play Crochet and relax together.”

“I’ll take you back to Savanaclaw for now Herbivore. You can sleep in my bed instead of this thing.”

You heard them converse and decide what to do as you slowly fell asleep, feeling lighter and sleepier than you have in a while.

You couldn’t be more thankful to have such amazing friends.

“Sleep well, Prefect.”

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I’m so sleepy, and this is soooo longggg!! But I hope you guys enjoy it!!!!

[foolishlovers]

hiii!!! do u have any recs for long AUs??? thank you! :]

of course, i love long good omens AUs, here are some of my favourites:

[you can request more fic recs here.]

Golden Handcuffs by seekwill (E, 70k) Far from any city, near the Scottish coast, Tadfield College has a celebrated history, an unrivaled academic reputation, and two departments at war. When the Biology and English departments are forced to share a building, Senior Lecturer and botanist Anthony Crowley finds himself drawn into the orbit of the polite but strange English professor, Dr. Aziraphale Fell. As the new term begins, two academics navigate the politics of both their offices and academia, and try to solve the puzzle of one another.

Fifty-Two Blue by bendycello (M, 84k) It would be a gross understatement to say that Crowley simply didn't like Aziraphale. He was posh and stuffy and arrogant, and Crowley couldn't figure out why everyone else in the program liked him so much. It hardly mattered; they were competitors, and Crowley didn't need to make friends to become a surgeon. It takes several unleasant encounters, the excessive use of house plants as a coping mechanism, and getting stuck in an elevator for Crowley to start reconsidering his priorities. Or… Crowley and Aziraphale are surgical interns with competitive streaks a mile wide each, and they really do not like each other at all. Until they do.

Waking Up Slow by the_moonmoth (E, 87k) “Then you’ll just have to come back with me," Aziraphale said. “You what?” “You’ll have to come and isolate with me, at my cottage.” The thing about messing with people, Crowley thought, was that sometimes, they genuinely surprised you. After both being exposed to coronavirus, total strangers Crowley and Aziraphale are forced to wait out their isolation together. A tale of soft winter romance by the sea.

Slow Show by mia_ugly (E, 95k) In which temptations are accomplished, grand romantic gestures are made, and two ineffable co-stars only take four seasons of an award-winning television program to realize they’re on their own side (at last, at last.)

Car Trouble by summerofspock (E, 102k) Aziraphale's car breaks down so he takes it to the first mechanic he can find. From there, his mundane life changes drastically as he finds himself befriending the man fixing his car.

on the same page by Chekhov (E, 117k) Aziraphale Z. Fell is a rising star of the spiritual literary genre - the next Eat Pray Love guy - and his version of Chicken Soup For the Christian Soul is flying off the shelves. It's not that he's not grateful, but it's one thing to enjoy a career in writing and another completely to be pigeonholed into a specific genre, so much so that you are almost forbidden from writing anything else. So yes, maybe he has a bit of a secret. An outlet for his less… appropriate urges. And yes, if his typical readership got word of the sort of paragraphs he could put out on a particularly inspired night, they might suffer some form of heart attack typical for their age. But all of that is well hidden, and there is absolutely no way anyone would ever find out about his Arrangement with A.J. Crowley - the most debaucherous romantic fiction author of the decade. That is… until they have to pretend to be married to each other.

Married at First Sight by Aracloptia (T, 146k) “Well, that was a thing,” Crowley said once they were out of earshot. Without talking about it, they were both heading down the field, towards the lake where the photographer (and likely a few more people from the TV crew) was waiting. “That was a wedding,” Aziraphale replied, surprised at his own annoyance that somebody called a wedding a ‘thing’. “Yeah, obviously, didn’t miss that part,” Crowley said with a shrug, and waved abruptly in Aziraphale’s general direction. “Neither did you, from the looks of it, since you’re dressed like a wedding bride and everything.” “Excuse me, I am a—“ Aziraphale stopped himself, and started over. In which Aziraphale ends up marrying a rude stranger who wears sunglasses.

Old Vines by sevdrag (E, 189k) A.Z. Fell, one of the most respected names in wine and food blogging, has been sent on assignment with his assistant Warlock Dowling to spend six months in California Wine Country. Under direction (by his boss, Gabriel) to use this experience to double his blog followers and write a novel, Aziraphale is both excited and anxious about the opportunity. Anthony J. Crowley is the owner and viticulturalist of Ecdyses, a winery that unexpectedly fell into his lap eleven years ago when he hit rock bottom. He may be in debt, yeah, but he’s paying off his loans — and despite pressure from his lenders and their team of inspectors, Crowley has found a kind of contentment tending his little corner of terroir and producing extraordinary wine. Crowley’s old vines are the heart of his vineyard, and he’s never let anyone in. Crowley finds Aziraphale intriguing; Aziraphale finds Crowley enthralling. Turns out a famous wine expert and an experienced viticulturalist can still learn things from each other. The summer of 2019 unfolds.

What We Make of It (Shotgun Wedding) by charlottemadison (E, 213k) The important thing, Crowley tells himself -- the most important thing -- is Adam, his brilliant, creative, empathetic nephew. Being fourteen's hard enough; the kid didn't ask to deal with the weight of the world on top of it. And if taking care of Adam means Crowley has to tough it out at a job he can’t stand, so be it. And if Crowley's job means that Adam’s charming English teacher is NOT a romantic possibility, well, that's just how things go. But the occasional drink with Aziraphale proves hard to resist. They frequent the same pub, so who can object to them saying hello? Briefly sharing a table? Perhaps a little conversation? The painful knowledge that it can’t be anything more -- not without somebody getting fired or sued or both -- well, that can't be helped. Until Crowley stumbles onto a terribly reckless idea…

[loveyourownsmiilee]

Talking Buddie Language: Ep 6.14

I’m gonna start off by saying I really enjoyed tonight’s episode even though we didn’t get much Buddie scenes together. We have been so well fed this half of the season so I knew it was coming soon. However, I really do think we got a wonderful Eddie centric episode that is possible to set up his next character arc. And most of that arc, in my opinion, will be coming to terms with who he is as a person and figuring out who he wants as a romantic partner. I think he’s afraid to let himself think of that partner because of the deep rooted fear he has of being left alone. I got to say, there’s a lot more gifs than actual analysis this time around but they’re all important to the meta. So I hope you all enjoy 💜

Meddling Tia Pepa

I was really looking forward to Tia Pepa’s return but because my foolish, naive heart thought she knew about the Buddie of it all. Boy was I wrong because she was back with one goal in mind and that was to set up Eddie on a blind date. She literally called him over under the false pretenses of needing his help, thus blindsiding him with a girl she wanted to set him up with. I will say, I have missed the Diaz family and it was nice to see her back.

The moment Eddie turns around and sees the girl, Vanessa, he immediately freaks out. That entire scene at Tia Pepa’s house was very queercoded and I’ll get into my reasoning as to why.

E: What did you do Tia?

P: What has to be done.

E: You tricked me…into a blind date?

He is actively freaking out the moment he sees her and you can tell by the way he scratches his head. He turns around and wants do make a run for it. When he questions Pepa, his eyes are wide and he is in complete disbelief because he didn’t think she would do something like this. What man would act like this upon walking in and seeing a beautiful girl who is someone they could very well date? Oh yes a queer one.

Pepa isn’t having any of Eddie’s questioning and counter questions him into confessing what else he has planned for the day, only to prove her point.

P: What were you doing right before I called?

E: I was… at home. Christopher spent the night at a friends house. I-I didn’t have time to figure my day out. It’s Saturday!

The way he immediately avoids any and all eye contact, and looks to the side indicates he is trying to come up with some explanation that is very clearly a lie. He hesitates, and has to gather his thoughts to come up with a plausible answer, and that is what gives it away that he’s lying. Pepa also catches on to the fact that he lied to her. Now we can all speculate all we want but something tells me he wasn’t just at home doing nothing. We know, especially in recent episodes, that any time he’s not with his son, he is often found hanging out with Buck. So I found it really weird how he had to actually lie to his aunt about his whereabouts.

P: Aye Edmundo, it breaks my heart to see you alone. It’s been too long. You need to do something or you’re gonna be alone forever.

E: Tia, I can’t marry someone just cause you say so.

Literally who the hell is talking about marriage here?!? It’s so interesting to see the way Eddie’s mind works when it comes to relationships and dating. This almost confirms that he’s never really dated anyone just to date them. You can kind of infer from this moment that he probably had to marry Shannon because of outside forces and they didn’t really get to date. And he was most likely with Ana because he believed, once again due to outside forces *Bobby*, that he needed to marry the perfect woman on paper. Because she would’ve been a wonderful mother to Christopher and his son loved her. It seems as though Eddie has not dated somebody who he himself wanted to date. And he sure as hell didn’t date anyone without the impression of it becoming a legitimately serious thing. So I think this opens the door for him to really question what dating means to him and who he wants to choose as the person he does date. It also indicates that he is looking to marry someone eventually. And some thing about this scene just made me think that he has possibly considered getting married again and possibly even gone as far as to say he might know who he wants to marry, but doesn’t think it’s an actuality. These are just some thoughts I had after watching this whole scene with his Tia. There’s definitely something under the surface for sure, and I think this episode is slowly hinting at it.

The 118 Have Opinions About Eddie’s Blind Date

I love when we get to see the firefam discussing literally anything about their personal lives. It really just drives home the idea that they’re an actual family and that they all found each other and built this family together.

C: So how'd you leave it?

E: We were gonna text each other to meet up.

B: I mean you could always conveniently forget to text her.

C: He's not gonna ghost her Buck.

E: Yeah, she already texted me.

I really love how last episode we got to see Eddie acting jealous over Buck mentioning all the women he has slept with. I have mentioned it many times on my blog how Eddie is very overtly obvious when he is jealous. Buck, on the other hand, is subtle with his jealousy. This entire time they're talking about Vanessa, the only thing he contributes is suggesting Eddie ghosts her. I mean is that how a best friend would act if they were genuinely supportive of their best friend dating again? Even the way he sits down and looks all petty at Eddie indicates pure jealousy over this topic of conversation.

E: Now I gotta figure out how to let her down easy.

B: Ooh, you're not good at that.

E: No, I'm not.

One thing I love about this specific moment is that even in the episodes where we do not get a lot of Buddie moments, they will throw in something that makes us remember just how close these two are with each other. This was a direct callback to Eddie breaking up with Ana by telling her to just go home. There is no way Eddie didn't end up confiding in Buck, his literal go to confidant, about that whole mess. So Buck mentioning that little fact just drives home the fact that these two are very close and tell each other almost everything. Which then begs the question, why isn't Eddie just discussing this with only Buck. Makes one question the real reasoning behind the fact that we never see them talking about their possible romantic partners unless it is to get advice when it is falling apart.

(Gifs by @matan4il)

E: Well she seems nice. She already picked the place.

B: Ah.

E: I just hate being forced to a date. Feels like I have to perform.

Once again, the fact that the frame focuses on Buck, with his arms crossed, closed off and keeping him safe and away from being hurt in this instance, to simply nodding his head in a very jealous way is definitely something. He is the only one who seems to be that interested in Eddie's plans with Vanessa and it goes to show once more that he is not really being as supportive as he could be. These men both do this all the time when there is another woman involved. He is definitely not happy about Eddie going on this date and I don't blame him considering he was dressing up nicely just one episode ago to go out with Eddie.

I also really love Buck's reaction when Eddie says that he feels like he has to perform. He is confused but he smirks because he can't believe Eddie just said something like that in front of everyone. He basically laid all his cards out in front of him. What he said, about having to perform is also very queercoded, because it indicates him having to put on a facade to be able to date a woman, when he doesn't really want to. Almost as if he really isn't all that straight and knows he has to force himself to be in the right mindset to make everyone else around him happy. Buck seems to be questioning what Eddie could possibly mean and you see that with the downturn of his lips here.

Then Hen, or as Chimney so lovingly says, Tia number 3, comes in and questions Eddie. The camera also panned to her when Eddie said the bit about having to perform and I find it interesting that her reaction was very "I know what you are."

H: Or maybe you're anxious about said performance.

E: Anxious? Who's anxious?

H: It's ok to feel nervous. Vanessa's probably at work right now, panicking too.

E: I do not panic.

No, no, of course you don't Edmundo. You also totally didn't end up in the hospital because of a panic attack at the idea of being married to a woman. He is so silly and I really want to bring back mirroring because he is mirroring Buck here. We all know Buck always talks with his mouth full and I don't believe we have seen Eddie talking with his mouth full before. Either way, when you hang out with someone too much, you start adapting all their habits and mannerisms, the good, the bad and the ugly. Here he has definitely adapted Buck's bad habit of speaking with his mouth full and it really makes me giggle because it's such a small thing but it shows how similar these two have become.

This entire scene also was very Eddie being somewhat repressed and in denial about it. Him telling Hen he does not panic, when we all know he had panicked with Ana is definitely important and I believe it's going to play a key factor in his upcoming character arc.

The Fake Date

Ok I got to say how it was such a deliberate choice in having this date come after the poker game from last week because the differences are insane to me. Not only did Eddie channel Buck from the poker game with his outfit, but he didn't put the same level of effort in this date with Vanessa as he did when he went out with Buck. He's just wearing a simple suit and he doesn't really seem to be into the date from the beginning. Whereas last week, we had him in that plaid blue suit, with the turtleneck and his fancy gold watch. He also could not stop looking at Buck, whereas he barely even looked at Vanessa in the beginning of their date.

Not only that, but he literally was there to let her down easy, which he started to explain when he said, "Full disclosure," but was cut off before we can find out the reason why.

Some key takeaways from this date that really convinced me that it was not special and nothing important for the future were the following:

— He was being friendly with her, as he is with every other female friend we have seen him interacting with.

— He was understanding when she explained to him about her ex-fiance and how she is definitely not ready for anything serious

— His little "I do" moment was very much like that moment in 4.05 when he told Buck, "I know you did." The same softness sure, but this lacked the fondness and love his eyes hold anytime he's talking to Buck.

— He took out his phone to take notes. Literally what successful date includes note taking?

— He didn't seem mesmerized by her at all. He didn't have that twinkle in his eyes when looking at her. She was fun and sassy and he smiled at her, but it was nothing that would rival his special Buck smile.

— When she leaves, the biggest thing is that he does not turn his head to look after her. If he had truly been interested (or straight) he would have watched her walk away. BUT he did not. Instead, he kind of smiled and shook his head in disbelief that she bested him before he could. He also let out a breath of relief, because the man really did not want to be on that date. He didn't seem upset or heartbroken in any way. The only look I can describe this as would be possible bafflement at how his night went down considering he came in with one thing on his mind and that was taken from him when she ended it on her own.

Eddie's Date Review? No Sorry Performance Review

I found it hilarious how Eddie was really thinking about how Vanessa pulled a fast one on him.

E: Sorry uh, it's a lot to process.

BN: Didn't expect the brush off huh?

I don't know why but this moment reminds me so much fo the moment between Buck and Eddie in 5.02 in the bunk area when they're discussing Ana. The way Eddie avoids looking at Buck and tells him "Just feels like a lot man."

E: Not gonna lie, it's probably the worst one yet.

BN: Wait, you didn't even want this date.

E: Yeah so it shouldn't be bothering me right?

Well the reason this is bothering Eddie very much is because he is the guy who likes to have his control. The things that he cannot control are the things that end up bothering him the most. So here he isn't really thinking of a missed opportunity. No he is thinking about how he had a plan to go in there and tell Vanessa that she is a nice girl but he was not ready for a date. He probably had something else he wanted to say but that opportunity was taken from him when she didn't let him finish what he had to say. So of course this is on his mind and of course it will be bothering him for a while. Because Eddie Diaz likes his tight grasp on things he can control and when that's taken from him, he starts to spiral.

E: Maybe Hen's right. Maybe, maybe I'm anxious about not performing.

Again, this man is thinking about the fact that he has to perform. He cannot date a woman and be himself because he does not want to date women. This reminds me of that moment between Buck and him in 5.11, where Buck tells him, "You don't have to pretend with me." That's is isn't it? When Eddie is with Buck, there is no need to put on an act or have anxiety over it. He simply exists and is who he always has been. There is no need for a performance or to pretend to be someone he is not because Buck knows him and he accepts and loves him for who Eddie is entirely. And that is what they are showcasing here. How Eddie may need to perform with women, but when he is with his right partner, he can be who he is and know that he will love him anyway.

I love how Bobby gives Eddie the kiss of death AGAIN. Any time this man gives anyone relationship advice, they are immediately doomed. We saw it with Eddie and Ana in s4. So this only sets the curse for whatever other dates Eddie may eventually go on and that makes me laugh.

BN: Maybe it's time to find the right work/life balance.

E: Feel like I have that. Me, Christopher, we're a good team.

BN: You're a great father. But there's more to life that I think even Christopher would agree. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you get back out there.

This is the second time they allude to the fact that Eddie is alone in raising Christopher. First Pepa said it in the beginning of the episode. Now Eddie mentions how it is just him and Chris. The weird thing with this is that we had 3 episodes before this that showed how intertwined the Diaz boys are with Buck. They showed what a family unit they three are and how Buck can be viewed as a wonderful partner and coparent to Eddie. Christopher begging Buck to come back home when he was in a coma was like any child begging their parent to come back to them. Eddie crying like the grieving widow he was did not indicate him being alone in this world. Not only that but just the episode before this they gave us heavy family feels with Buck and Eddie helping Chris with his homework and then Buck baking cookies for Christopher's class. So this begs the question, why the incessant need to mention that Eddie is alone when we all can see that he is not.

A part of me believes that maybe it's possible that outside to the Buckley Diaz trio, not a lot of people are aware of how close they are to each other. I made a post about how it's very possible people do not even know about Eddie's will because of what it can very well symbolize. Maybe Eddie does not want people to know how important Buck is to him because then he has to answer questions about that. Questions that he may not be fully prepared to respond to. Maybe this is his way of keeping his heart safe by not acknowledging the importance of Buck in his life just yet.

E: I feel like I haven't had a chance to really uh, collect my thoughts. So let me go out there and do some collections.

It's funny how he mentions this to Bobby before he heads out because from every thing we have seen up to this point, it is Eddie not really thinking about certain things in his life. He has not really collected his thoughts and come to the conclusion as to why he is so content with how his life currently is and why he does not need to date anyone. I think this foreshadows Eddie really taking some time throughout the next few episodes to reflect on his current life and think about things and choices he's made. I hope we get to see some of those thoughts and the conclusions they bring forth.

Buck, The Nepo Prince of The 118

I love love loved the cute little father/son performance review moment we got. I got to say, it definitely felt weird to see Buck have such little lines but I was also glad for it considering so many of the recent episodes were all Buck centric.

B: My PT scores are not right there. They're low and you marked me outstanding.

BN: Yes, considering...

B: Considering what, that I uh had an accident on the job, but I recovered.

BN: Buck, you died.

B: Yeah, so what, you're just gonna take it easy on me forever?

BN: Buck, I don't think that's entirely inappropriate.

The fact that we have had someone tell Buck he has died every single episode since he work up is very interesting and a little morbid. It is clear as day that man has not fully recovered or made his peace with the fact that he died. He keeps making light of it and avoiding talking about his feelings about it. The only time we saw him be somewhat truthful was with Eddie in his kitchen in 6.12. And given what we know about the next episode and him being intrigued by a death doula, I can see why they keep mentioning it to him. They are setting up the storyline to turn into him getting some actual help about his death and eventually making his peace with it.

Tia Pepa Comes Clean

I love how Eddie could not even fully remember the lie they came up with about the fake date. He immediately slips up and Tia Pepa catches onto his lie before he even has a chance to go any further. He told her that the date went "great" and that they decided to stay friends.

E: She was...very nice.

P: You're never gonna see her again.

E: I'm sorry Tia. I'm not ready.

Once again this goes to prove that any time Eddie has dated someone, it has been at the persistence of someone else. He only went along with it to appease his aunt and even then, he did it knowing his heart was not in it. He needs to learn to make these choices for himself and only himself. If something is not broke, there is no need to fix it. If Eddie is not ready to date and he is completely content with how he is living his life, it is not up to his Tia or anyone else to meddle into it and tell him how he should be living it. This scene once more further shows how queercoded Eddie is because there is something he is just, unable to say out loud to her in this moment.

When Pepa comes clean about her first marriage and how it took her 6 years to get over it, Eddie is visibly upset and can't believe this was kept from him. Now, why would he be upset at some family secret that’s been kept from him? Well given his reaction, I’d say it was important to his own history, which is why he was taken aback by the news. Eddie was also married and he seems to come from a very clean cut traditional family where divorce is not an option. So considering Shannon not only left him, but came back only to ask him for a divorce, really affected him for a long time. He felt like a failure and was mad at a dead person for a while there. Now, finding out that Pepa was also divorced and then found the love of her life, it connects him to her even more. There’s another Diaz who had a failed marriage but was still able to move on and find their right partner in the end. It almost gives Eddie hope and you can see that with the final moment he shares with his Tia.

P: I was getting set in my ways, and the longer you are alone, the easier it is. I don’t want that for you.

E: Me either.

Eddie has tears in his eyes and he really understands where his Tia is coming from. He knows she means well and he resonates with her. But this also leaves the door open as to yes, maybe he is open to finding the right partner, but how he plans on achieving that is where things get tricky. I really do feel like it’s possible that they are going to further develop. His character arc into him dating some people, and realizing why things are not working out with each person. Because deep inside, he has to know that he has already found that person. I just feel like he is very afraid to allow himself to feel the things that he does, and to want the person he does. But I think this episode really opens the door for him realizing he’s ready and he needs to go on this journey to find his perfect partner (we all know he’s found him. Now only he needs to figure it out himself.)

Ravi Comes Home

The reason I want to mention Ravi is because he said something that really made me think of Buck and Eddie. When he was telling Chimney about what happened with the accident, he says something about how, “But what haunts me isn’t the one that I lost. It’s the one I saved.”

Now why the hell would this remind me of Buddie? Well let’s take a look at Eddie and his partners shall we. When Shannon, his wife and mother of his child was in an accident, he could not save her. He had to sit there and watch her die. And that did affect him for a long time, and he was traumatized by it.

But then his work partner and other coparent was struck by lightning and literally died for 3 minutes and 17 seconds. Now who was the one that got his heart beating again?? Eddie. Eddie was able to save Buck. But he stood there for days and mourned because he didn’t want to live a life without Buck. He couldn’t look at him, he was crying and dressed like an actual widow. Not just that, he clearly has unresolved feelings about that whole thing because we saw him mention it to Buck in 6.12 about how he died and he’s allowed to have feelings about that. And he was quick to correct Chief Williams when she mistakenly mentioned how Buck was dead for 3 minutes. Eddie knows how long, down to the second he was dead for because in those 3 minutes and 17 seconds, he had to live his worst fear. And I feel like the fact that he did end up saving Buck haunts him every day.

It was so nice to see Ravi back with the team. Eddie and Buck hugging him like he’s their little brother was so wholesome. Buck lifting Ravi up while Eddie looked on with a big smile on his face was what we all needed. The final glimpse of Buck and Eddie in the background all blurry was wonderful. They’re clearly close as ever, considering they once again, do not know what personal space is. I also love the fact that you can see Buck in his blurry form, leaning his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

(Gif by @whosoldherout)

I personally can’t wait to see where their storylines go from here. I’m being optimistic and still think it’s really inevitable that they don’t get together romantically. I’m excited for this ride and can’t wait to see what the read is the season brings us.

Once again, thank you to @aa-lionheart for all the lovely gifs. I adore you tremendously. And thank you to each and every one of you who reads this through. I appreciate you all more than you’ll ever know 💜

[vickiee-mcmuffin]

A new look

Word count: 2.9k

Pairing: Defender Strange x Female Reader

Trope: Fluff/Explicit Smut (18+ Warning, Minors DNI)

A/N: This is another fic from my old account. It was originally a fluff fic, but I've decided to add some smut. ;)

I also plan to gradually upload most of my old fics, so lemme know if you would like that. :)

Summary: You are starting a new job as a makeup artist and hair stylist and need someone to practice on. Stephen is the best person to ask, and you hope he agrees to help you.

You and Stephen had officially been together for just over a year. The best part was that every day just seemed to get better and better. You loved him and he loved you, and you couldn’t have asked for a better partner.

You were always a pretty creative person. Making things with your hands was always so fun. That was one of the reasons why you wanted to be a makeup artist and hair stylist so bad. It would have let you be as creative as you wanted. It was your dream job, really. And next week, you’d officially be working as a hairstylist and makeup artist at a nearby salon. You couldn’t wait to start the new role.

But you were nervous. Very nervous. You wanted to practice, and doing hair and makeup on yourself wasn’t the same as doing it on somebody else. You needed somebody to work on. Somebody who would trust you.

A thought suddenly hit you. Maybe you could ask Stephen? He did have long hair, so you could practice a few different looks on him. And maybe you could even put some makeup on him as well. You hummed at the thought. A lot of guys didn’t like to have their hair done – let alone wear makeup. But Stephen was always willing to help you. You figured he’d be okay with letting you practice one or two looks on him.

Getting up, you quickly began your search for Stephen. You moved all throughout the sanctum, finally getting to the bedroom that you shared with Stephen. You found him there on the bed with a book in his hand. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him.

“Hi,” you said to Stephen softly. You were a little nervous about asking him to be your own dress-up doll – but you still needed to ask. You had to practice before you started work.

He put down the thick book in his hands and looked up at you. “Hi, sweetheart,” he replied.

Not wanting to waste any time, you quickly joined him on the bed and sat on his lap. You kissed him softly and slowly and hummed when you felt him kiss you back. But then you slowly pulled away from him, preparing to ask him the big question that had been on your mind.

“You know you love me,” you said with a little smile.

Stephen raised a dark eyebrow at you. “I do love you...” His tone was a little suspicious. It was as if he knew you wanted something from him.

“Well, if you love me, will you do something for me? Please?”

“What?” He gave you a little frown. There was no way he’d be able to guess what you wanted.

You took in a deep breath. “Would you please let me practice styling your hair? And can I do your make-up as well? Please?” you asked with a little pout. “I need to know my stuff before I start this new job. And I don’t just wanna show up and have no idea what I'm doing. Please, please, please.”

“What?” Stephen frowned.

You parted your lips, just about to repeat yourself, but Stephen let out a sigh and forced you to stop.

“I heard you.” He sighed yet again. “Do you really have to use me as your own personal dress-up doll?”

You let out a soft laugh. “Yes.” Your voice was light and teasing. You hoped that would entice him.

Stephen huffed dramatically at you. He kept his lips firmly pressed together, but you weren’t going to give up.

“If you let me do this, then I promise I’ll make it up to you after,” you said. Maybe that little offer would get him to give in. You made sure to keep your tone of voice teasing so he’d clearly get the picture.

That made Stephen smile. And then he gave you a playful, little roll of his eyes. “Fine,” he finally let out.

You literally squealed before you gave him a big kiss on the lips. “I’ll be back!” you told him, jumping off the bed. You moved into the bathroom, grabbing your cosmetic bag and hair styling equipment. There was a lot of it – but that was all part of the job. You put all your stuff down on the bed, giving you easy access to everything you needed for Stephen’s new look.

“Do you really need all of that stuff?” Stephen asked, staring down at all the makeup and hair styling products.

“Of course! It’s all necessary.”

Stephen shook his head. “Girls,” he muttered to himself.

Once all your stuff was down on the bed you then moved over to the other side of the room, grabbing a chair by the bedroom desk. Placing it in the middle of the room, you gave the seat a little pat.

“Come sit,” you offered the spot to him.

Stephen did, getting settled on the chair. You quickly rushed behind Stephen and pulled off his hair tie, revealing his long locks. You ran your hands through the strands for a few seconds, admiring his silky hair. Then you got to work on the styling. First, you ran a brush through his hair, making sure not to be too rough. Stephen seemed to hum as the bristles massaged his scalp. Well, at least he was having fun before the makeup application started. Tossing the brush to the bed, you began to get to work on creating braids. With careful hands you parted his hair, giving you better access to him. Then you moved the strands here and there carefully, not stopping until a neat, sleek braid had been formed. And then you got to work on the second one. Very soon Stephen was sporting a pretty, braided hairstyle.

You grabbed the handheld mirror, watching as Stephen looked at his reflection. He patted at his hair, nodding slowly as he turned his head left and right so he could capture all the angles.

He hummed. “You did a pretty good job.”

You kissed him on the cheek, leaning over. “Thank you.” It might have been a simple braid, but you were proud that you had done a good job – and that Stephen actually liked it. Maybe he’d let you do his hair some more then. “Alright. The hair is all done. Now it's time for the makeup!”

Stephen groaned and slumped in his seat a little, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else but here. “Do we really have to do the makeup part of this? You already did my hair. Do you have to put the makeup on me?”

“Yes,” you said. “Because if you don’t, then you won’t get your reward for letting me do all of this.” You had to remind him of his reward. You really needed to practice, and a little threat could sometimes go a long way. You knew Stephen wouldn’t pass up on the chance for a fun reward like the one you were offering...

Stephen rubbed his hands against his face. “Fine.”

Moving in front of Stephen, you got settled on his lap, straddling him. The first thing you did was put some bright, pink lipstick on his soft lips. It suited his skin tone, you thought, as you carefully turned his lips a vibrant shade. You put some foundation on him next, carefully spreading the cold liquid around his face, creating an even skin tone. When you were done with that, you applied some dusky pink blush to his cheeks. That and the lipstick seemed to bring out his eyes. Eyes that you couldn’t help but work on. You applied a little mascara to his lashes, making his eyes look bigger and brighter. You then decided to add some more colour to his face and popped some pink shadow on his eyelids.

“Really?” Stephen muttered as you swiped the brush across his lids. “Even the eyes too?”

“I have to use eye shadow!” you protested. “How else would I finish the look?”

Stephen clicked his tongue. “The things I do for you...”

You smiled brightly at his words. You leaned back a little, so happy with the look you had created. You then picked up the brow pencil and gently scraped it across Stephen’s brows. You decided to make them a little fuller and darker, just to create some intensity to the look.

There wasn’t much else to do at that point. You looked at Stephen’s face: at his bright lips and cheeks and his sleek hair. It all blended together so well. You smiled and grabbed the last thing you needed: some spray to lock all of the makeup in – which might have made the whole makeup removal process for Stephen a little harder. But still.

“Keep your eyes closed!” you said to Stephen as you gave the setting spray bottle a little shake.

“Oh, what now?” he groaned.

Giggling at him, you coated his face with the setting spray a few times before fanning his skin. He looked all glowy and dewy and... pretty. He looked genuinely pretty. Stephen normally looked so rugged and classically handsome. But now he looked ready to walk any runway.

With that, you got off Stephen and stared down at him. He looked... vibrant. And bold. But pretty. Really pretty. He should have dressed up more often, you thought as you noted all the pink on his face.

“Well, I'm all done now,” you said proudly. “You wanna see?”

Stephen opened his eyes, a little frown on his face. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be silly. Come look.” You grabbed Stephen’s hand and pulled him over to your dressing table mirror, giving him the chance to see his reflection properly.

Stephen gasped, his lips parting as he shook his head. There was a look of absolute shock on his face – along with some panic in his eyes.

“What have you done to me?” he asked.

“You look pretty,” you said with a soft giggle, admiring his face in the mirror. He looked so cute to you. More than usual. “Don’t you think?”

You gasped suddenly when you felt Stephen’s big hands on you. He grabbed your hips and pulled you right over to the bed, forcing you onto the mattress. A squeal left your mouth as Stephen kissed you all over your face and neck – leaving bright lipstick stains all over the place. You laughed loudly, unable to control yourself as Stephen’s lips tickled over your neck.

“Stop!” you said, but you loved it. You loved how good it felt to have Stephen kiss you all over.

Stephen continued on with his rampage of kisses. You knew your face and neck would be absolutely covered in evidence of Stephen’s lips on you. You kept laughing, letting Stephen have his way with you before he finally pulled away. Then he looked down at you with a twinkle in his eyes. His lips were a little smudged, and his beard slightly stained with pink lipstick thanks to him going wild with all of his kisses.

“You’re an asshole,” you said with a soft giggle.

Stephen laughed at you. “Now you know how I feel when I leave to go to Kamar Taj and you cover me with your lipstick kisses – and then when I get there Wong always stares at me funny.”

You couldn’t help but giggle again at the thought of that happening. But then your eyes darkened a little as you remembered the deal you had made with Stephen not that long ago.

“Well, you better get cleaned up if you want to earn your reward,” you said, your voice low but teasing.

Stephen winked at you. His eyes darkened as well: a sure-fire sign that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. “Okay, sweetheart,” he said, his voice darkening with desire.

You waited – rather impatiently – for Stephen to get cleaned up. When he was back in your presence, you pretty much shoved him back into the chair. You stayed standing, looking down at Stephen as you blinked at him. Big hands landed on your hips, squeezing them tight as Stephen pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was rushed and deep, the both of you moaning into each other’s mouths. Stephen’s hands moved to your ass, cupping you through your shorts.

“You’re such a good kisser,” Stephen said when he pulled away from your lips. He ran a thumb across your bottom lip. “Such a good, little kisser for me.”

Blushing, you pecked Stephen’s mouth slowly. “Mm. You too. But… I think I’d rather kiss you somewhere else…”

You could see Stephen smirk, clearly excited at the idea. You got down on your knees, running your hands up and down Stephen’s thighs. You could see his already hard cock straining against his trousers and you moaned at the sight before you. Slowly reaching up, you pulled down Stephen’s briefs until his cock sprang free.

“Mmm, already so hard for me,” you whispered, completely in awe of Stephen’s hard cock right there in your face.

“Always for you, sweetheart,” Stephen murmured from above.

Holding him with one hand, you gave the length of his cock a long lick. You moved from the shaft all the way to the tip, moaning softly in the process. When you got to the head of his cock you sucked at it, whining around him. Spit fell from your mouth as you let it fall along Stephen’s length. Soon you pushed your lips down more and more, not stopping until you had every inch of him inside your mouth.

“Oh, Y/N, just like that,” Stephen said with a moan. “You’re doing so fucking good, don’t stop.

Blinking up at Stephen, you stayed right there, sucking and choking on his cock. He was so big and perfect and you loved the way he twitched in your mouth. You knew it was a sign he was getting close.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Stephen let out, eyes all dark. “I wanna be inside of you.”

You smiled at him, shaking out of your shorts and panties as you got settled on his lap. He held his hard cock, pushing the head into you before you slid down his length.

“You feel so fucking good,” Stephen grunted, holding your ass tight. “I love how you feel, sweetheart. God, I love how you feel so fucking much.”

All you could do was moan as you rested your hands on your shoulders and lifted yourself up. Stephen’s cock stretched you out in the most delicious way. You whined, bouncing up and down on his length, your soaked pussy wrapped right around him.

“You’re… You’re so big.” You were whining as you spoke. “Mm, I love how you feel deep inside of me. I love it so much. I love you.”

“Keep bouncing then, honey,” Stephen said. “Just like that. You look so damn pretty bouncing on my cock.”

You gasped as Stephen held you tight. You picked up the pace, getting lost in pure pleasure as Stephen’s cock pumped in and out of you. It always amazed you just how good Stephen could make you feel. His hands pulled your top off, revealing your breasts, and Stephen let out a deep growl at the sight of them.

“Look at those pretty, perfect tits,” Stephen muttered. “Look at how damn pretty you are. You’re so pretty, baby. Come here. Let me kiss my beautiful girl.”

Moaning, you pressed your lips to his as you kissed him wildly. You still bounced up and down on his cock, letting him throb inside of you. You kissed each other wildly, tongues all tangled as your pussy took every inch of his cock.

But then a sharp cry escaped your lips when Stephen pulled away from your mouth and wrapped his lips around your breasts. The new pleasure mixed in with the wonderful feeling of his cock buried deep inside of you, and then it was it for you.

“Oh, Stephen!” You came right around his cock, your head thrown back.

Stephen grunted below you. “My beautiful fucking girl. You look so damn good when you cum for me. I love you, honey. I love how you look when you cum for me. You’re so perfect. So perfect for me.”

You rode out your orgasm, letting the sensation take over your body. You made sure to bounce up and down Stephen’s cock, licking your lips when your eyes finally opened back up. Stephen looked so close to cumming.

“You’re so close for me,” you whispered. “I want you to do it. I want you to cum.”

Stephen threw his head back. “Fuck, sweetheart.”

“Please cum,” you continued, still riding his cock. “Please. I just… I just love it when you cum. When you grunt and groan for me. You’re so perfect, Stephen. I love you. I love all of you. Just cum for me. You deserve it. You deserve it so much.”

Stephen held your ass tighter, his fingers digging into your skin. With his eyes all dark, he looked right at you as he chanted out your name. And then you felt him cum right inside of you a second later.

“Y/N, fuck!” he said with gritted teeth. “Oh, fuck. I’m cumming. I’m cumming for you.”

You kept bouncing on him, wanting to extend his pleasure, wanting him to feel as good as he had made you feel. When you had milked every last drop of him, you pressed your forehead to his and let out a little laugh.

“That was a nice reward, huh?” you asked, smiling brightly at Stephen.

Stephen chuckled right back, pecking your lips. “Best reward ever.”

Tag list: @butchers-girl @azu21 @polytheatrix @lucimorningst4r @evelyn-kingsley @withalittlehoney @mirikusashes @bobateadaydreams @strangelockd @thealleydog @cemak @stewardofningishzida @lady-harvey @smokeywhalee @floatingfireflies @iamsherlocked1479 @icytrickster17 @asherloki @alice-bcmf @aphroditesdilemma @strangesthirdeye @rmoonstoner @stephenswh0re

[specialagentlokitty]

Carol Danvers x teen!reader - be yourself

Hi! Can I ask for familial figure Carol Danvers story please where Reader is non-binary, and their family is very phobic to queer stuff, and so R runs away and Carol takes them in? - Anon💜

TW: mentions of unaccepting family

Standing in your living room, you took a look at your parents and you took a small breath.

“I uh.. I just wanted to tell you guys something…” you said quietly.

You mom smiled at you.

“Of course, what is it?”

Taking a deeper breath, you glanced away, running a hand up and down your arm nervously.

“I’m non binary…”

“Huh?” Your dad said.

Both of them sat up, looking at you sternly, and you subconsciously took a step back from them.

“I’m non binary… I Uhm… I don’t really feel like I identify as male or female… like they just don’t feel right…”

“Get that shit out of your head.” Your dad snapped.

You snapped your gaze to him in pure shock.

“There is no such thing! You were born as what you are so that’s what you are! You can’t change that!” Your mom yelled.

You felt tears burning your eyes as you listened to them go on and on about how it wasn’t right, how none of it was right and that you needed to see a doctor.

You stood for what felt like forever listening to them until you turned around, just leaving the room.

You slammed your door shut, and sank down against it as you cried.

You weren’t sure what kind of reaction you were hoping for, but it definitely wasn’t that. Maybe some confusion, but you never expected to hear such harsh things from your own parents.

When you came down for dinner they kept going on and on about it, glaring at you and making sure to use the wrong pronouns when talking about you.

You thought maybe it would get better but it never did, and after nearly a week of this, being forced to see a doctor, and the constant harsh things they would say, you couldn’t take it anymore.

You packed a bag and you left in the dead of night, running down the street, running as far as you could until you could find a bus out of town.

Then you got on that, not thinking anything through, where to go or what to do.

It was how you found yourself in an unknown city, living on the streets.

It wasn’t easy, but at least this way you didn’t have to listen to them anymore.

You could get by enough from helpful strangers who gave you money, and sometimes you would join with local homeless teenagers who would meet up in the park just to play games or talk.

You were making your way down to the homeless shelter for something to eat when you all but walked into somebody.

“Oh I’m really sorry!” You rushed out.

“That’s alright, are you okay?” She asked.

Looking up, you took a step back, nodding your head.

Of course you would recognise such a hero as soon as you saw her, Carol Danvers, Captain Marvel, everybody knew who she was.

“Yes, thank you? Are you? I swear I didn’t take anything from you, I’ll wait here while you check.”

Carol frowned a little bit.

“Why would I think you’d take something?”

You gave a small shrug.

“Most people do. I’m really sorry I’ve got to go, the kitchen at the shelter closes soon!”

With a small smile you ran past her, and Carol watched as you left.

You didn’t think you’d ever see her again until one evening she wondered upon you camping in a construction site, and she walked over.

“Hey, it’s dangerous you know.”

“Huh?”

You turned around.

“Sorry, I’ll go. I just thought it would be safer here.”

“Hey, hey wait a minute kid.”

You stopped walking, letting her jog over.

“I saw you come in here last night too, are you sleeping here?”

You shrugged a little bit.

“It’s cold, and it’s not safe for you to be out in the streets. I can take you home.”

“No! Don’t take me home!” You pleaded.

Carol raised her hands, quickly nodding her head.

“Alright, okay. We won’t go there, but I don’t feel right leaving you here, can I at least take you somewhere else for the night?”

You shook your head.

“All the shelters are full up, I gave my spot to a boy a little younger than me…”

“Okay, maybe a hotel or something?”

“No money and they won’t take me cause I’m all covered in dirt and stuff…”

“Alright, how about we just go for a walk, yeah? You know who I am right? You know I wouldn’t hurt you?”

You nodded your head, trailing after her as she led you back to the street, and you began to slowly walk around.

“What’s your name?” She asked.

“(Y/N).”

“How old are you?”

“(Y/A).”

She looked at you.

“You’re so young… why are you out here (Y/N)? Where’s your family?”

You frowned, turning away from her.

“Don’t know, don’t care… disowned me…”

“What? Why? You don’t seem like the kind of kid who would do anything so bad to be disowned.”

“Non binary…”

“Oh wow really? I know loads of non binary people! They’re all so friendly and always so happy! You know on some other planets that how they’re raised, as non binary, and they can decide later if they want to stay as non binary, or change that.”

You looked up at her.

“Woah, really? And nobody cares?”

Carol smiled, shaking her head.

“Nope, totally normal. I’m sorry that your parents can’t accept that.”

You shrugged a little bit, looking back down at your feet as you clutched the straps on your bag.

“That’s life…”

“Yeah but it shouldn’t have to be, there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s more normal than people think.”

Carol took you to get some proper food, and she spent the whole night searching for somewhere for you to stay until she came across a small motel who thankfully had a spare room.

She snuck you in, and handed you the key to the room.

“Here, I’ll come back with some clean clothes and stuff for you, don’t open the door unless you know it’s me okay?”

You nodded your head, locking the door after her.

You didn’t know why this big time superhero was looking after you, but you were thankful for it.

When she came back, you managed to get a shower, and you sat in front of her as she brushed and cut your hair for you.

“What’s it like travelling space?” You asked.

Carol smiled, telling you about it, what she did and things she had seen, and you sat there fascinated.

She kept coming back, bringing you more and more things for the next two weeks until finally she stood in front of you.

“I’m sorry I have to go.” She sighed.

“It’s okay, it was really nice to meet you, I hope you stay safe.”

“Will you stay safe?” She asked.

You gave a small shrug, giving her a little grin.

“The best I can.”

She nodded her head, heading towards the door, but she didn’t walk out, instead she turned around to look at you.

“Ever thought about travelling space?”

“Ever since I watched doctor who, they made it look so cool!”

This made her laugh, and she opened the door, holding her arm out to you.

“Come on then.”

“Seriously? You don’t even know me.”

“Yeah I do, come on, I could use the company and Fury is always telling me to get a friend to travel with me.”

You grinned from ear to ear, grabbing your bags as you ran over to her.

You were practically bursting with excitement and Carol just watched you with a gentle smile.

In a way you reminded her of when she was younger, people telling her who she could and couldn’t be, and you had chose to be who you were, and she found that amazing.

She was proud of that, she was proud of everybody who chose to be themselves despite what people said, and she was going to take you from the streets and give you the love and respect you should’ve had in the first place, be the parent you should’ve had in the first place

[justjams2003]

Thundering return

Cha~ idfk hello:) I want more dark Thor >:( Please somebody, I need it. Or mob boss Thor, anything where he is doing something criminal >:(

Pairing: Dark!Thor x slave!wife!reader

Warnings: Mentions of previous rape, manipulation, stockholm syndrome type situation, violent sex, degrading, praising.

Summary: Thor comes home lustful after a heavy battle in need for a release. (Basically just smut)

Word count: 1.6k, not edited also it’s 1:30 am

When you first got hear, the sound of a storm made yours body quiver with fear. Fear of Thor, of his return. A clear sign that his mood is unstable and most likely you will be forced into the cross fires of that anger. You will be used to relieve that frustration, in any way he possibly sees fit.

After all, your marriage was forced. Your father and the all father coming to agreement. You were seen as one of the most beautiful maidens, creatures to have lived, right under the gods of course. And so you were married off and Thor was in complete defiance.

Yet still, he was over protective of you. Not allowed out without him by your side or a select view guards. Not allowed to make eye contact with any man nearby. Not to speak without his before-decided permission. All outfits had to be seen by him before any other could see.

It confused you at first, his quick mood changes. One moment he’d be cherishing your whole being with such devouring eyes. Protecting you at all costs and making sure not another would even think of upsetting you. You were happy about the marriage, having heard many good things about him.

But at nights when thunderstorms were booming loud and he took you without question, you put up a fight. As any other would. That would only upset him more. But soon he convinced you and made you realise this is how he shows his love. He’s tired and angry and then he turns to you to comfort him.

To you, he goes to you for relief. You can’t go on without him. He is the reason you have all these lavish gowns and feasts upon feasts. People protecting you from the horrors outside of the castle walls. You have the most handsome prince in all nine realms relishing your body. And so you realised how much you need him. Giving yourself to him fully and allowing yourself to be happy here.

So when thunderclouds began to form late in the afternoon, your heart raced wildly. Finally he is to return from his battle. He’s been gone at least two weeks now and it has been hell for you. Beyond lonely as you are usually to accompany Thor everywhere.

And so when you awoke just slightly past midnight with a huge boom and clap of thunder you immediately grew wet with anticipation. Urgently your closest maiden rushes in, slamming the doors open. “His Majesty has returned and demands your greeting at once,” she says, already helping her exit.

Thor is first in the greeting hall. His blonde hair is dripping wet, similar to how you are feeling. His eyes are filled with a dark cyclone. Just then as those tempestuous blue eyes land on your figure, a massive lightning bolt hits the ground. Illuminating the everything behind Thor, making him seem like only a dark shadow.

“Wife...” His voice is dripping with lust and yet his eyes filled with anger, jealousy and an emotion indescribable to you. Then you realise. Thor’s fighting company is right behind him. The Warriors Three, Sif and even Loki. They all respect you and fear you far too much to even look at your form.

He had called to you and you came without even thinking. Leaving in only a night gown, one made of satin and silk. Perfectly falling over your curves like a waterfall smooths over rocks. Thor grabs you, right by the waist. Pressing your body as close to him as you can.

You follow his lead, wrapping your arms around his neck and shoulders. Bringing him in even closer. “We will discuss this in the bedroom.” He states, with a low growl into your ear. “For now you will stand behind me as I greet my friends for the night.” He commands to you, his voice low and trilling.

And so you listened and followed his every word. Waiting as he allows your maid to leave, commanding her to start with feast plans. He greets his friends with joyous laughter and an adrenaline filled hug. And finally when they were all gone, he turned to you.

His eyes switching from fire to lightning. He does not speak a single word but simply grabs you closer by the neck once more. His lips grapple around yours, his hands dropping mjolnir with a thud. Causing you to jump slightly and he easily takes that as an opportunity to do both pull you up to wrap your legs around his waist and devour his tongue into your mouth.

His hands squeezes onto your waist and the other holding onto your ass for dear life. Bruises will most definitely be left there within the next hour. Soon, not even sure how it was that soon, you reach the bedroom. He throws you down on the bed without much care.

“You whore!” Is his very first words, watching your every move and every curve in his body. Again a bolt strikes, he also begins removing his clothes. His cape falling, chain-mail clattering to the floor. “I spend two weeks away, surrounded by women throwing themselves at me.” His voice gruffs out as he continues.

Each time he wants to put extra care to a word thunder would boom or lightning would strike. “And I had to keep myself away from them. For your sake! To keep you happy, keep our image clean.” He explained, as if it is such a big thing to do.

But to you, it does. To you it is the most obvious thing in the world. You weren’t allowed around a select few men, not allowing you to be seduced. Thor doesn’t have that same privilege. Having to keep his mind pure without someone there to help him. Sure to others it makes no sense, but you’re so in love it only makes sense to you.

“Then the first thing you do, is show up in that! In front of Loki even!” Thor is sacred of losing you, to anybody. Especially to Loki, not that he had done much to deserve such treatment. “That...” he mumbles out, finally dropping his pants. Allowing his massive girth to show fully.

He purrs, crawling onto the bed and fiddling with the night slip. “This is not much to cover yourself with,” he seems to chuckle. Then, just to show how much stronger he is than you, he rips the garment right from your skin. Another bolt hits when he sees your body in full.

The blue light creating shadows on your perfect curve. The colour just sending thrills down Thor’s spine, his colour lighting up your body. He lets out a corrupt chuckle. “By Gods, you my dear are so perfectly crafted,” he mutters, taking in to see each part of you.

“I quite like seeing blue on you,” he announces, his cock right on your clit. Both of you slippery and so ready for each other. “Oh fuck,” you moan out feeling him rub himself on you. Feeling just how big he gets from seeing you. Then his mouth is all over your body.

Kissing and sucking on each part of flesh that will be seen when wearing any garment. Leaving hickeys that will turn blue by the morning. So that everyone can see who exactly you belong to. The whole time rubbing his girth up and down your clit and vulva.

At that point you were coming close, he knew how to get you there even if it is with just his cock. Meaning that he knows damn well just how close your are becoming. He removes himself from you. His dark eyes lit with joy at the whines that leave your mouth.

“You dark get to whine, you pretty little slut.” He warns you, flaring his nostrils with annoyance. “This is for me and me alone. You are to take my cock like the good scant pet you are.” He commands, lifting your legs around his waist, lining himself up with your hole.

“Yes, my prince,” you’ve been trained well. Knowing exactly how to respond to him. He smirks at this and thrusts himself deep inside you. He moans out, burrowing his face in your neck. “So tight for your husband,” he mutters out. You can’t help but wince and also moan from the sheer size of him.

Even after each time it is still so hard to take him all in. Your legs wrapping around him to bring him in even deeper. Have himself close to you just to ground yourself. Your head lolling back as he pounds into you. Your mind going numb from the pure pleasure.

In between he leaves praises and then calling you exactly the opposite. And finally when Thor feels himself coming closer, he lifts you up higher. To get himself deeper in you. Perfectly hitting your pelvic bone, hitting your clit just right.

“Tomorrow you will have my cum leaking out of you.” He commands, knowing full well this will go on for most of the night. Cumming deep into you over and over again. Just like now, hot liquid spewing deep inside of you, allowing you to do the same with him deep inside you.

Thor used you in every way he could that night. Leaving marks all over you, leaving your body a hot, gushing mess. And finally when he decided rest is needed, to have you looking for the feast. “You’re sleeping naked from now on.” Is the last thing he says to you.

A/N : So I missed the birthday post...because I kept coming up with new ideas. But I promise I am like,,,,, 5000 words away from being finished? It’s worth the hype, to me at least, I have bee planning it for like 3 years now. Anyways, I am a whore for dark!Thor. Which, doesn’t really fit in my story so here we are. (Thank you for all the followers btw and to everyone still supporting even though I am so inconsistent.) 

[penultimate-step]

Oshi no Ko 143 Reaction

This was a fun chapter. Ruby getting aggressive finally forcing Aqua to stop ignoring the problems in their relationship that have been simmering for 20 chaps now and actually have a conversation that puts it all out in the open. They're mostly saying stuff I predicted in advance, but some of it took me by surprise.

One bit that made me stand up and !!! was this page:

I thought I was doing something interesting when I compared Ruby's feelings towards Gorou to Aqua's feelings about Ai in my last two analyses but she just came out and said it directly on page, haha. I feel pretty validated.

I still stand behind most of what I wrote last week after this chapter. Ruby is desperately trying to make this a romance, but her best pitch is "I care about you in the same way we cared about idols in our past lives. Parasocially and without regard for the actual person, because I need to put somebody on an idealized pedestal or else I'll kill myself. This is what romance is, right?" Girl with so so so many issues, I love her.

The one thing that did really take me by surprise was the bit where she listed off Aqua's flaws as a person. In the past I assumed that Ruby was intentionally ignoring these flaws and making up a version of Aqua that didn't exist in her head. The way in her mind he's drawn like a romance hero and how she makes excuses for all the things she took issue with before lead me to believe she was intentionally distancing "Gorou, her idol" from "Aqua, the person, her brother" in her head. I'm not sure how to square this knowledge with the way she is (textually, now!) putting him on a pedestal. If I had to guess, I would think she actually is aware of who Aqua is as a person - she was friends with him as Gorou before and siblings for 18 years, she should know him better than anybody - but is intentionally separating this knowledge from the figure she is idolizing, because she needs to keep ahold of something for her mental stability.

I'm reminded of an analysis post of OnK ep 1 I read on tumblr almost a year ago, I forget who posted it so I can't properly credit it but it's not my own thoughts. (if anybody else remembers it please let me know so I can link it!) They contrasted Gorou's parasocial fan relationship with Ai to Ryosuke, the stalker who killed him: both put were fans of Ai, the Idol, but when confronted with the reality that she was more than an idol, that she had relationships and would have children, Gorou decided that the health and happiness of Ai the person was more important than his image of Ai the Idol, and did his best as a doctor to help her, while Ryosuke's reaction to having his image of the Idol shattered was to try and destroy Ai the person. The analysis put forth the idea that this was contrasting healthy vs unhealthy methods of being a fan - that there's nothing wrong with being a fan of someone, necessarily, but you have to keep in mind that you aren't entitled to anything about them, and there's always a real person underneath the performance.

I didn't fully agree with it - in my post about how the series portrays different kinds of love I talked about how it came down very harshly on dishonest and idolizing love - but I did think it was very interesting (obviously as I still remember it almost a year later). Anyway Ruby's approach to Aqua this chapter made me think of that a lot. She makes a big deal out of how Aqua is her idol, their relationship is idol/fan, and she can ignore all his flaws - but at the same time she points out that she does actually know what those flaws are. It puts her in something of a strange position. What would she do if her image of The Doctor, Her Idol, no longer existed, and she was left with just Aqua? Would she care for the person, or be mad at losing the illusion? According to this chapter she fits into neither of those, she chooses to pretend that the illusion still exists even while staring directly at the reality. Ruby seems aware that she is essentially using the idea of the doctor as a coping mechanism, but doesn't want to admit that this desire is directly in tension with the idea about caring about Aqua as a person, romantically or otherwise.

As for Aqua, it's great that he's finally being a little honest with his emotions and feelings after so long, to the one person who is really able to understand the context.

However, I think he's still holding a lot back, especially in the latter half of the chapter, because there are things he doesn't feel that he can say to Ruby, specifically about their relationship. He seems hesitant to directly tell Ruby that he can't be her lover or her idol, he can only be himself - even when he tries to tell her that he can't be the person he was she just brushes it off - and I think with how Ruby's mental health is holding on by a thread he is unwilling to do anything to jeopardize it, even if it means accepting the spot on her pedestal.

My read of the relationship between Gorou and Sarina 22 years ago was that they were genuine friends at the time. Regardless of difference in age and position they were both socially isolated people who found one person they felt they could be honest and open with. This makes their current relationship even sadder - Ruby has twisted the memory of their old friendship into dreams of romance and idolatry to fuel the desire to live one more day. Aqua, who in his last life would have been willing to do almost anything to get her to keep living, is forced to cut away his own relationship to her, both last life friend and current life brother, because being dishonest - being an idol - is the only way he can see to keep her alive and healthy. Both have already cut away most of their other bonds for the sake of the revenge plan, and now they can't even be fully honest with each other. Very tragic stuff.

All in all I really really liked this chapter. The interactions between Ruby and Aqua has always been multiple layers of relationships and mindsets existing on top of one another, and that just makes it super interesting for me. I love it whenever that leads to character tension. They've been friends and siblings and idols and all of that has to coexist, its a very unique kind of character writing that Oshi no Ko does well and I don't see very often and makes me care for the series a lot. I think I have a much more positive view of this arc than most of the fandom because the trainwreck of their relationship is one of the series highlights to me, so chapters like this, where exactly how bad their mindsets have gotten are placed as the main focus, are some of my favorite story beats.

I know there's a lot of negativity about this chap but I'm having a good time over here in my corner. Not sure if it's because I've been letting my thoughts about the series out in posts a lot more recently or because I liked this specific chapter a lot but this is definitely most I've been invested in the series for a while now. I think I was letting the Discourse kind of sour things for me and now I have mentally exorcised it from my mind.

[cheemscakecat]

Um.. No?

So someone wrote a Dadspy fic where Scout knew the entire time and he’s indifferent to the reveal. There were big two things that didn’t feel right to me though.

Scout passive aggressively ignoring and avoiding Sniper after he died in the hallway in comic #6.

For those that don’t want to read this other post of mine, I went over what happened to Sniper in the comics and how that mighta affected Spy wanting to disguise as Tom Jones.

Now Scout wouldn’t think about the fact that Spy saw what happened, but he would eventually be pulled aside by Demoman or somebody and told about Sniper’s situation. Especially if he and Spy had a falling out.

So I can’t imagine him ghosting the poor guy to break off their friendship.

2. This:

“He keeps acting like he always did with Spy. The sick satisfaction he gets every time Spy follows him cloaked and takes a bullet for him in battle, tries to give him little gifts or start conversations only to get rejected with that poker face sliding over his features was thrilling.

But it got boring pretty quickly. Unfortunately, Spy didn’t leave him alone even after he yelled at him to go be useful for once and ****ing creep around the other Scout if he wanted to play follow-the-leader so bad.”

What do you mean you enjoy reaping the benefits of your father taking bullets for you, then rejecting his attempts to do right by you?!

It’s one thing if Scout doesn’t know the extent of how much Spy tries to help him, like protecting him from Joey Murders when his arms were broken in prison. I can see him forgetting the better deeds of his father in the timelines where he didn’t know the truth.

It’s totally different if he knew the whole time, saw Spy putting his life on the line for him over and over, and knew that Spy wasn’t using those deeds to try to force father-son reconciliation.

Like, he did not do all of that expecting Scout to just forget being left behind and let bygones be bygones; he did it because he loves his son. He doesn’t bring any of that up when finally revealing the truth to his son, and he’s left in speechless horror and remorse when he finds out how long Scout knew. So it’s really evil and nasty to take pleasure in hurting him like Jeremy’s been doing.

“Sniper shifts uncomfortably and looks off to the side, most likely to a cloaked Spy. ‘Nah, mate. Just about the… father… thing.’

Scout drops his stuff in his locker. ‘Huh? What about it?’ Of course he knows. Scout isn’t dumb. He sees the way Spy looks more and more disheveled each day, eating less and less, staring at Scout more and more.

Scout thinks it because he is at that age that he would start nagging his family to visit more if he had a normal life. If he had stayed. But he didn’t, so he doesn’t have one to nag. Not outside the base and certainly not inside it. Maybe it finally dawned on him that his only child knows him at a coworker level and wants to keep it that way. That the night he spent with his Ma practically doesn’t mean anything to anyone, not even Scout’s Ma, but him.”

Scout, how do you know that your parents weren’t in a relationship for a few years? You figured out Spy was your dad when you somehow recognized him at 16 in a random diner, so Ma had to have kept a picture or something like that. Ask yourself, would she do that for a random guy that she knew for one night? And would she keep that if he meant nothing to her?

… And he’s really gonna just sit there and watch Spy go into a depression or worse with no remorse. Refusing to go talk to him knowing he’s standing next to Sniper, knowing he’s losing weight in a dangerous way.

That’s not indifference, that’s called hate.

Me personally, I think Scout’s the type to say something really harsh and hateful, but not actually mean it; and that he’d feel remorse for it later. Not prey on Spy’s downfall like he did in this fic. Respectfully.

[agent-cupcake]

Éphémère

I’ve been attempting to fill short kinktober prompts with the Final Fantasy XIV cast to procrastinate the larger project I've been doing. We’ll see where it goes. Most of them are AU's of some kind idk.

Pairing: Aymeric de Borel x f!Reader Kink: Semi-public / Blowjob Tags: Explicit, light D/s dynamic, alternate universe: modern Word Count: 2.7k

“What are you doing here?” Aymeric asked, his blue eyes widening with surprise upon seeing who had been knocking. You hadn’t called, although you should have. You didn’t want to risk being turned away, to be told you couldn’t steal a few precious moments from his busy life. Besides, you had a good cause this time. 

Given that your hands were full, you shut the door with your foot. His office was the same as ever. It was not quite as grand as someone might expect, clearly inhabited by somebody who favored efficiency over aesthetics. The air smelled like him and the corporate scent of floor polish and new upholstery. While the blinds covering the windows facing Ishgard were wide open, those over the windows looking into the main office space were closed. It gave a very strong illusion of isolation and intimacy, like it was just you and him. Emboldened by that thought, you fixed Aymeric with as serious a stare as you could. 

“I heard that you’re working way too hard, and that your staff is worried about you,” you said, having decided upon a cold open approach so he couldn’t wriggle out of your accusations. “I’ve even heard that it’s putting you in a bad mood. The men are losing morale.” You waited a beat for his response, but he just looked at you, completely befuddled. Eventually, you prompted him with a prodding,“So?” 

“So… what?” Aymeric asked.

“Is any of that true?”

“True?” he repeated, his dark eyebrows pinching in the middle. “Ah, no…  No, it is not.” Aymeric finally forced a reassuring smile. He wasn’t very good at faking. “I appreciate the concern, but I am fine.” You gave him a doubtful look, slowly meandering over to his cluttered desk. There was nothing to be said, you both knew that you were right. He could try to downplay it all he liked, but even Aymeric had his limits. He sighed. “I cannot afford to take a break yet. I promise to rest once this matter is resolved. Perhaps I’ll take a day off. We’ll go somewhere—anywhere you wish.”

“We won’t be going anywhere after you work yourself into a nervous breakdown,” you told him flatly. 

“Please, don’t say such things. I promise that I will be fine.”

You sighed. “Either way, I brought you something to eat,” you said, setting the bag of takeout on the tiny bit of space left on his desk. “I had a feeling you skipped lunch.” 

“Lunch?” he asked, brow furrowing. “What time is it?”

“Past lunch.”

“I see. I must have lost track of the time, I… Thank you.” He placed a hand over yours and smiled, a real smile, and you felt your chest clench. Even overworked and exhausted, he was beautiful. Far more beautiful than any man had a right to be. “I dare not consider where I might be without you.” 

You smiled, even knowing it was a platitude. He was the most resilient person you had ever met, and one of the most solitary. Aymeric would be just as okay on his own as with you, but you liked the idea that he needed you, if only for a fleeting moment. You liked to think that there was something only you could give him, something of value. 

And, just like that, you came to the conclusion that he didn’t look like he needed a meal. He looked taut as a bow string and ready to snap, he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He looked like he needed a bit more than lunch. 

“Hey, while I’m here, maybe…” you began, faltering with embarrassment as you tried to figure out the best way to phrase it. 

“Is there something else?” 

“I know there’s nothing I can say to make you take a break so I won’t ask. Still, I want to do something to brighten your day and honestly you look like you could use a pick-me-up,” you blurted out, speaking fast to keep your nerve. “I’ve thought about it before and I’m pretty sure I can fit under your desk,” you said, leaning forward to double check. Yeah, there was plenty of room. Three cheers for long legs. “Think of it as stress relief. Like a massage or something but, you know, with my mouth. What do you think?” 

Done with your awkward proposition, you looked back up at Aymeric with as innocent an expression as you could manage, meeting his eyes as if you hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary. It was always hard to predict how he might react to any given situation, mostly it was a question of whether or not his Catholic guilt and relentless sense of propriety would win out, but you pretty well expected the way his mouth snapped shut, a muscle in his jaw ticking as his entire body went taut. 

And then slowly, carefully, “Are you…” 

“Offering to give you head in your office at three in the afternoon on a Thursday?” you finished for him. “Um… Yeah, I guess I am.”  

“I… I don’t think… That is,” he cleared his throat, “obscenity of that sort would be extremely inappropriate for a man in my position.”

“C’mon, are you going to tell me that you’ve never thought about it? Doing secret, naughty things is the best part of getting a big, isolated office with a big, roomy desk. Or so I’ve been told.” 

Aymeric swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to the door and back. “Even if I were comfortable with such an egregious breach in etiquette, it would be wrong of me to do so while everyone else is working so hard.” 

“You’re looking at it all wrong,” you argued. “If you work while you’re super stressed out, you won’t do as well, and you act all grumpy, and everybody is unhappy. If you take a teensy tiny little break to let me help you relax, you’ll work better, be nicer, and everybody will be happy... If you need an excuse, you can blame it all on me. You can say you got lured in by the irresistible charm of a succubus who would simply not take no for an answer.”  

He let out a single laugh, dry and nervous and humorless. “Is there any truth in that?” 

“I am pretty insatiable when it comes to you.”

Aymeric reached up to take hold of your chin, gently pulling your face towards his so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. And you knew that look. Conflict. Doubt. Desire.

“If you don’t want to, I’ll let it go,” you said. “But if it would make you feel better, I want to. I’d do anything… sir.” 

Aymeric’s expression hardened, his eyes darkening a shade, and it was a stare that demanded your submission. It was the kind of look that was usually followed with orders like remove your clothes or don’t move unless I say or open your legs or-

“Get on your knees.” Even half whispered, even though he always left enough space in his demands for you to deny him if you were truly uncomfortable, that wasn’t the sort of order you turned down. 

“Okay,” you said, your voice soft. His fingers squeezed your jaw a little bit tighter, his eyebrow raising ever so slightly. “Yes, sir,” you amended. Aymeric released your face and leaned back, watching as you fell to your knees. Although there was enough space under his desk for you to fit, crawling under it was kind of awkward. Good thing your skirt was flared, scrambling around like this in anything tight would have been impossible. 

“Is that okay?” he asked. “Should I move back?”

“No, sir. This is…” You breathed out, steadying yourself. “Perfect.”

Knowing you had a time limit, you undid his belt and the button of his pants, slowly pulling the zipper down. Aymeric was kind enough to shift his hips so you could push his trousers down and out of the way. Wanting to savor things at least a little, you traced the outline of his dick through the dark boxer briefs, feeling him harden beneath your touch. Aymeric’s hips shifted and he cleared his throat, prompting you to slip your fingers beneath the waistband to pull those down too. 

He wasn’t hard yet, but the choked noise Aymeric made and the way his hips jumped forward when you began to stroke his cock made you think that he wanted this at least almost as much as you did. He caught himself quickly afterwards. Always playing the stoic.

You realized early on in the relationship that, power dynamic notwithstanding, Aymeric was not the type of man to demand things of you sexually, at least not for his own pleasure. There was an element of trial and error to figure out what worked. It was all pretty complicated. So was he, for that matter. Pretty and complicated. 

Continuing to stroke the base, you paid your respects, kissing and licking your way across his cock. Every inch of him was perfect, though you could admit a preference for this particular part. Perfect, and, as you liked to think in your wildest moments, yours. Alternating between using just the tip of your tongue and the flat, you traced the veins running the length of his dick, following one along the underside until you reached the head, lavishing extra attention at the point where they met. You knew that got him, one of his hands finally finding its way to the top of your head. Humming happily, you did it again before pulling back to swirl your tongue around the swollen crown. His fingers curled against your scalp, not grabbing or pushing, but very insistently there. 

Now that Aymeric was fully hard, you couldn’t help but think about what he felt like inside of you. How full, how complete you were when he fucked you. The mere thought of it was enough to make you moan shakily, wrapping your lips around his cock and pushing forward, sucking and licking enthusiastically in the hopes that he would be able to feel your arousal. Your appreciation, your affection, your adoration. 

That wasn’t something you ever told him, not with words. You knew better than to distract him with too many of your feelings. He was so busy all the time, distant in a way that often left you cold. Not because he was cruel, or unfeeling, but because he lived in service to others, to lead, there was only so much of himself that he could give. Scraps, moments, little fragments of the most magnificent man you’d ever known. And he had been clear about that from the start. You made peace with it. For such a self-sacrificing man, the very least you could do was live in his service. If it was Aymeric, you didn’t mind so much. 

Finding a pace and rhythm that worked took a moment of experimentation, getting your hand and mouth to work together. Plus, you were trying to be quiet, and clean. That’s how these office affairs went, right? Top secret stuff. Aymeric’s hips pushed forward, throwing you off. 

“You needn’t hold yourself back,” he told you, his voice slightly muffled from above. “The walls are quite thick and-” he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “I know you can do better.”

You hummed in understanding, although it probably didn’t sound like much with his cock in your mouth. It was one of Aymeric’s many contradictions. No matter how neat and put-together he always was, nights with him often ended with you teary eyed and dripping with sweat, your thighs slick with cum and saliva leaking from your open mouth, blissed out and sloppy. He wanted to know that you were enjoying yourself so much that you’d be reduced to a swooning, helpless mess. And still, he insisted he wasn’t any sort of sadist. Pretty, complicated, and terribly repressed. 

You gave him what he wanted. It sounded obscene, wet slurping and your little choked moans stifled by his cock, the slick back and forth of your hand working the base, the movements smoothed by your saliva. It was already messy enough to be dripping down your chin and onto your skirt. Probably onto his expensive trousers. He had spare suits at the office though, it was fine. 

“If you’re going to hump my leg, move your skirt out of the way,” Aymeric said. Embarrassing, although he said it with a measure of warmth. 

You stopped, pulling off with a slick pop and a shaky laugh. In your haze, you hadn’t even been aware of what your body was doing. “Ss-sorry, sir. I didn’t…”

“That wasn't a request.” You couldn’t see him, but you could imagine the imperious set of his sharp features, the way his perfect lips blushed dark pink and parted when he was turned on, how his inky dark eyelashes would flutter open so he could look at you with those gorgeous eyes.

You whimpered, a sound you couldn’t help. A bit awkwardly, you hiked your skirt out of the way, shuffling a little closer so you could better grind against his leg.

“Good girl,” he murmured softly. Sweetly, using the hand on your head to pet your hair. You shuddered hard, raising your chin and opening your mouth. Aymeric met you halfway, his hips pushing forward while you moved down, your saliva-slick hand jerking him off in tandem with each bob of your head. 

Now that you were actively trying, the pressure between your legs was intoxicating. You wondered how much he could feel with the heavy fabric of his trousers in the way, if he was aware of how hot you burned for him, how wet every little catch of his breath or groan he couldn’t hold back left you. The friction wasn’t enough, but it was good. At this point, he was practically hitting the back of your throat with each thrust, and you couldn’t tell who was guiding the pace. It was all you could do to sneak in a breath here and there, to remember to use your tongue, to try and keep your voice down as you well and truly lost yourself in the hazy depths of lust and need, shamelessly grinding against his leg. 

Aymeric clearly wasn’t concerned about volume control at all, the office was filled with wet squishing choking noises and your muffled moans. His breathing had become erratic and you could hear the low groans he tried to fight back. You wanted him to come. Desperately, desperately. You wanted to make him feel good, to make him relax, to narrow down his world until it was only you and him and the pleasure he could derive from you. You wanted him to throw you onto his desk and fuck you until you were screaming, to claim you because, God help you, you were his. Not just for a fleeting moment, a single afternoon, a day off, but always. Every second of every day, his. 

“I… can’t…” was the only hoarse warning you got before his hips stuttered, his hand holding your head in place as he came. You braced yourself to take it. For any other guy you wouldn’t have, but Aymeric... 

Aymeric. Every part of him was perfect, you would take anything he gave to you. 

He moaned so prettily, even if he tried to muffle it, the sounds stuttered and choked. You swallowed and swallowed and swallowed, desperate to prove yourself, to take whatever he saw fit to give you. To be his good girl. 

And then he stilled, his hand relaxing. His cock twitched in your mouth, and you pulled back with an unseemly amount of saliva. Like you thought, most of it was on your skirt. Not to mention your sore knees, stiff legs, and the lingering taste of cum in your mouth that was not nearly as pleasant when the act was finished. You needed to get up, the moment was over. He needed to get back to work. But, selfishly stealing a few more precious seconds, you rested your forehead against Aymeric’s knee, and he petted your head, and you let your eyes close. Just for a moment. 

[silverfoxstole]

CURIOUSER AND CURIOUSER

DOCTOR WHO MAGAZINE 337 10TH DECEMBER 2003

BY BENJAMIN COOK

“He’s imbued with this slice of evil,” explains Paul McGann, when I ask him to tell me about the Eighth Doctor’s current predicament… “I won’t go into the whole detail of it, because I’ve only just recorded it. I’ll still be trying to figure it out tonight! But yeah, the Doctor’s a bit of a bastard in this one. And that’s great. What’s fun, what’s nice to play, is a dark side…”

“You have more fun being a baddie,” confirms Peter Davison, who’s wearing exactly the same T-shirt that he wore for the recording of The Sirens of Time half-a-decade earlier (his own way of commemorating the anniversary, perhaps?). “There are more things to do with a bastard.”

“There’s more space, there’s more latitude, there’s more elbowroom with a baddie,” agrees Paul. “The good guys have to be patently good, if you know what I mean. They have to look noble.” Is there nothing that Doctor Who can’t do? “I don’t think so. That’s the beauty of it, isn’t it?”

“Maybe there are some things,” Colin Baker chips in, “but if we say what they are you can bet that somebody will come up with a script that includes precisely those things – and it’ll work. You can say that the Doctor could never massacre a thousand innocent children, but if someone came up with a script that gave a very good reason why he should…well, then I’d do it.”

“You could have said that Doctor Who can’t sing,” smiles Sylvester McCoy, pointing accusingly at Colin Baker.

“He sang? When?” Paul grins. “Why didn’t they ask me to sing?”

“Actually, when I heard,” says Colin, “that they were doing a Gilbert and Sullivan [see Doctor Who and the Pirates], I thought, ‘This is taking it too far.’ But I read the script and it gave entirely credible reasons why the Doctor would sing. It’s one of the most moving scripts I’ve read in terms of the context in which the Doctor decides to do what he does.”

“A barbershop quartet!” exclaims Peter Davison, quite suddenly. “Wouldn’t it be perfect? It’d be perfect, wouldn’t it?” The Four Doctors, he means. “Yeah, we’d go down a storm.” At conventions, I suggest. “I’m thinking bigger than that. We could be huge…”

“Worldwide domination,” whispers Sylvester McCoy, menacingly.

…..

“The hero has to be unmistakable,” suggests Colin Baker, “but that bad person can be anyone.” His voice drops to a whisper. “They might not reveal themselves. You know what I mean?”

“There’s just more room there,” says Paul McGann, “with a baddie, you know?” Does it ever get a bit dull, then, playing a do-gooder like the Doctor? “I don’t know if he is a do-gooder – in considering, for example, how he was exiled from his homeland. He has a bit of a record. He’s a bit erratic and – what’s the word?”

“Eccentric!” offers Peter Davison. “He could be your uncle, who’s the black sheep of the family, who all the children love and the parents disapprove of.”

“I was going to say ‘fractious’. I mean, sure,” Paul says, “he’s a force for good, and he understands that, and doesn’t mind admitting it, but they never call if good. No one ever talks about ‘good’ and ‘bad’, or ‘good’ and ‘evil’, do they? I mean, there’s never quite that, sort of, quasi-religious thing going on. No, it’s just power corrupting and fights around the universe.”

Peter says: “He’s definitely anti-authority in many ways.”

“That’s why I’m attracted to him,” joins in Sylvester, “and I think why other people are as well.”

….

“Is Paul being regenerated?” frowns Sylvester McCoy, leafing through his script. “Is this the end?”

“Yeah. We decided that’s it.” Gary Russell grins. “We don’t want to do Doctor Who any more. That’s it, it’s finished now.”

“Richard E Grant,” persists Sylvester. “Is he not taking over?”

“Richard Who?” Gary laughs. “No, doesn’t mean anything to me!”

“Yes, well, when people have said to me, ‘Who do you think would make a good Doctor?’, I’ve often said Richard E Grant,” insists Sylvester. “He may be a touch young, but he’s definitely the right kind of eccentric, quirky character. Knowing that people want a younger Doctor, he’ll fit the bill really well, won’t he?”

“And he’s quite well-known in his own right,” says Peter Davison, “so I don’t think he’ll get lost in it – unless he becomes the television Doctor. In that case, it won’t swamp everything he’s doing, but it’ll change his life quite dramatically, I should think. He knows what it’s like to have a fanbase thing, because of what Withnail and I brought him…”

What advice would they give the new TV Doctor? “I wouldn’t presume to give anybody any advice,” declares Colin Baker.

“Why should we help him?” grins Paul McGann. “To hell with him!”

In studio, Gary Russell and Lalla Ward are debating whether Romana would use the word ‘poppycock’. “You’re right, Lalla. It should, of course, be ‘affirmative’. But you did enjoy ‘poppycock’, didn’t you?”

“I loved poppycock!”

“Let’s keep it, then. Maybe you could just - ”

“A bit more ‘poppy’ and a bit less ‘cock’?”

Gary Russell sighs. “It’s going to be one of those days, isn’t it?”

“I haven’t even ravished the universe yet,” bemoans Paul McGann.

“I’ve got two hearts,” Lalla boasts. “I don’t need to ravish anything!”

…..

“There’s a jokey rivalry. Yeah, of course there is,” says Peter Davison, when asked about working with the other three Doctors. “It’s like any actor with another actor, really. When we meet up, it’s not for real. And we do put it on a bit.”

Colin Baker says: “And there’s probably an underlying rivalry that we don’t acknowledge – you know, he has that script and I don’t…”

“A shorthand between any group of people that work together is to be rude,” continues Peter.

“It’s a very British phenomenon, that. You insult your workmates,” says Colin, “and that means you like them! The people you don’t insult and have a go at are the ones that you actually don’t like, so you don’t want to get involved in anything with them. Of course we have a go at each other and take the mick. We’re all terribly disrespectful!”

…..

“Actually,” says Nicola Bryant, scanning through her next scene, “this makes a lot more sense than the last scene I was doing…”

“It isn’t supposed to make sense,” cries Gary Russell, poking his head out of the studio door. “The only bits that make sense are the bits that Alan Barnes wrote. All of my bits make no sense at all!”

Colin Baker says this: “I mean, Zagreus – it’s so labyrinthine and so clever, and, even though there are bits that I don’t understand, I know that I will understand them when I listen to it. It deals with huge issues about the nature of the Time Lords and their history and their future – entirely appropriate for a 40th anniversary.”

“It’s very weird,” says Paul. “That’s nice. It’s good when it’s weird.”

“It’s quite a milestone,” says Peter Davison, “I see no reason why it shouldn’t go on and on. I think it’s rather nice. I can’t think of many shows that have reached that milestone. And like anyone else, I want to know what happens next…or before…or alternatively…or as well. It fills in a lot of gaps.”

……

“I like the Doctor,” concludes Paul. “He wears his background, and he wears his solitude sometimes. He’s a little bit, for some people, hard to get to know, and definitely, for others, hard to get to like. There are the complexities there that we come across daily. But there is, of course, the hero aspect of him – from time to time. He’s the white knight. It goes in and out – he can be very, very good and very, very bad. I’d hate it if he were always the sword of truth and justice – a cleansing agent. It’d be boring. It’d just be boring. It’d be Borax, in fact, folks!

“It’ll be interesting to see what happens next…”

[piles-of-numbers]

hi, I wrote / doodled my aroace journey for pride

id below the keep reading

ID: A series of 10 images featuring a handwritten story and doodles along the way. They read as follows:

Growing up, I believed my life would follow a certain path. (Doodle: footpath with grass around it). It was the path of all my favorite books, shows, movies, etc. Doodle of a row of five triangular flags along a path. The first is labeled "meet a guy," the second is labeled "we develop some witty banter," the third is labeled "He confesses his love for me," the fourth is labeled "???", and the fifth and final one is labeled "Profit."

That path was in my mind during most interactions with my guy friends. Doodle of a stick figure posed with hand on face, considering another stick figure. Next to the stick figure is a list: nice (check), funny (check), smart (check), likes me??. These candidates became my crushes. I waited for a confession. Sometimes, my friends would suggest I take initiative. Doodle of the same stick figure in a thoughtful pose, along with two more stick figures. One says "You should ask him out!" The other says "Yeah!". But something about the idea felt off.

I told myself I wanted to focus on school instead. (Doodle of a paper with an A on it, two books titled Math and Biology. In truth, the idea of dating didn't really excite me. I thought that there was nothing wrong with being single. Thought it wouldn't be the end of the world if I just kept to myself. But all those stories taught me about what happened to those kinds of sentiments. Doodle of a stick figure, hands on stick hips, saying "I'm better off alone!". Below that is words written in the Spongebob timeskip card, "Two Days Later....". Then there are two stick figures holding hands and looking at each other, saying "I'm only complete now that I've found you."

So, being the star student I was, I decided that I was just staving off the inevitable and decided to skip to that part where I found someone I liked. My sophomore year, the stars seemed to align: I turned 16, the age of most teenage protagonists, I heard through a friend that a guy would have asked be to Jr. Prom if I hadn't already expressed I was busy that day, and said guy got me a small gift for my birthday. So, with encouragement from my friends, I decided to strongly hint (but not outright say) that I liked him. And so, a week after my 16th birthday, he asked me out, to which I responded with a super confident "sure?"

We went on two dates before I ended it. He didn't do anything wrong, but something on my end felt wrong. I wouldn't say that I was repulsed, that seems to strong of a word. But the situation seemed forced. I decided I must not be mature enough, that I would date when I got to college. Towards the end of high school, I discovered the actual definition of asexuality. A doodle of the stick figure wondering Wait... sexual attraction? What is that? That's real? Cue about 3.5 years of questioning: how to prove a negative? maybe I am just anxious? No "right person" yet? I don't hate the idea of sex? Other people are exaggerating?

Fun thing about the anxiety question, I started taking anxiety medication during my last semester of college. With my mind a little more ordered, it all became clearer: I'm ace. The stick figure now waves an ace flag. With that sorted out, I was ready to move along in life when... the stick figure is handed a paper by a little brain and asks "oh? what is this?" The happy little brain smiles as the paper reveals the words HAVE I FELT ROMANTIC ATTRACTION???* The asterisk leads to the smaller note "also gender???"

Of course I had. Right? There was the aforementioned guy in high school, and in early college I thought about pursuing two guys. But I realized something: I always thought I had to like somebody. The butterflies I had in high school were less about the guy, and more... Doodle of two butterflies having a conversation. "Omg he likes us" "Mission accomplished" "Wait now we have to go on a date." "Ahhhh? what do we even do?"

What even is romance? I don't know. It's different for each person. Like a lot of people, I crave a connection founded on trust, shared interests, inside jokes, etc. Doodle of two stick figures, there are squiggly lines between them, a connection. But I think something about that connection, maybe its very essence, is just different. Two stick figures with different squiggly lines between them. I remembered thing how I've always wanted to skip the whole "head over heels" part of the relationship, and go right to being an old married couple. So, I'm aro. At first, I had a mini crisis. Doodle of the stick figuring sitting on the floor with tears, holding the aro flag. A sad brain pats the stick figure in support.

But that crisis ended when I stopped treating this revelation as a path being blocked... Doodle of a path leading to an archway, the archway is boarded off.... and more like a bunch of new paths I hadn't really considered opening up. Doodle of the archway path no longer blocked off, surrounded by a bunch of other archways.

Honestly, the first path isn't even gone, it just looks a little different. Doodle of the archway path looking the same as before, but the archway is a rainbow in the colors of the queerplatonic flag: yellow, pink, white, grey, black. The pathway has pebbles of those colors. I'm thankful for all the stories and comics people have shared related to the aroace spectrum. I shudder to think what my life would look like if I hadn't found these words, what paths I may have forced myself to walk. So now, it's my turn. Happy pride 2023, especially to my aros, my aces, aroaces, my aspecs, and to everyone still figuring things out. Doodle of a stick figure holding an ace flag and an aro flag.

End ID.

[bioethicists]

Your post about how the clinical process surrounding mental illness and addiction was really interesting!

I wonder what your thoughts are about Housing First models and Common Grounds models? Because I feel like they speak directly to your points and provide the needs but also a structure that can be relied on if one wishes to change oneself.

my job as a research assistant is actually doing an evaluation of the benefits of a massive housing first project in boston! i am a fan of housing first particularly because i think everyone should be housed + the possibilities for life shrink dramatically the second somebody is unhoused, regardless of their substance use status. unhoused ppl are treated as less than human (sometimes less than animal tbh) in many spaces. i also have a personal investment because my brother overdosed in part because of the fact that he had been kicked out of his living situation for using + was forced to use with a depressed tolerance in a remote location. if he had been in a housing situation which was not contingent on sobriety, where others may have been present to narcan him or he would not have had the immense stress + trigger of dogshit menial labor jobs needed to pay the ridiculous, price gouging rents at sober living- i mean, i can't speculate, but it's something i do think about.

i think my hesitation with how it can be implemented is, again, the assumption that the end goal for everyone is recovery. my position is not "well some people can't recover" or "well some people can't recover until xyz is met" but "nobody is obligated to recover, ever, and recovery is a subjective concept which can be put to extremely reactionary uses. i want to reduce people's suffering and increase their possibilities for life."

i do think, based on my work, that it's really important for people who are using substances to have access to resources which facilitate their safety and happiness + a lot of them would probably choose either sobriety, MAT, or safer drug use habits if that was something which was easy for them to do. they often express genuinely felt desires to "get better" (in whatever way that means to them or whatever way they hope it means to me) but similar, competing desires to continue experiencing the benefits of their drug use, as well as avoiding the negatives of sobriety. while i chafe at the idea that all people's "true selves" want to recover (in the specific way that recovery is constructed by substance use treatment providers), i do think that most people want to suffer less. things like methadone/suboxone (or safe, legal, surveillance free supply!!!), medications provided on site, easily accessible, non judgemental medical treatment, etc can save lives.

it's important for ppl to be very skeptical of who is allocating/managing the resources for these interventions + their motivations. to be frank, i get scared about the future of the (admittedly imperfect) housing projects i work with because they are funded by the state of MA with the primary goal being to get ppl off the street, because housed members of the community were complaining about the encampments. the state very clearly wants to see that these projects 1) reduce the prevalence of visible homelessness and 2) reduce the rate of drug use among participants. my job is very explicitly to collect and produce data that indicates this + the questions i ask when i collect data are quite explicitly centered around figuring out if being housed makes ppl use less drugs. the point here is that the state absolutely can + will revoke the massive amounts of money it has allocated towards these programs if they don't see them as making people Stop Doing Drugs or Stop Wandering the Streets. this is why i think harm reduction responses should be grassroots responses originating within + for communities, as described in some of the chapters of Saving Our Own Lives. unfortunately, these communities rarely have the infrastructure or the resources to implement these projects, so they must rely on the state + all of its messy biopolitical motives

[sailorblossoms]

Baz realized what his feelings for Simon were first, but seeing a post about “x falling first but y falling harder” (in a different fandom haha) it occurs to me that we can’t actually know whether “he fell first” based on anything that’s on the page... Think about it. When Baz figures it out, Simon is also trying to figure it out... he’s following Baz everywhere, looking for something, but he’s unsuccessful because he’s reframing it within the structure that allows him to exist not thinking or exploring his feelings... (which is the opposite of helpful to “figure it out”). By Simon’s own admission, he already knew he was a vampire before the stalking! The thing he was trying to figure out, it’s the same thing that Baz did figure out then. 

When Baz is first introduced, one of the first things we’re told about his character, which forms an essential part of who he is, is that he’s in love with Simon. Baz tells us this, as he tells us many things in a very direct way, and he knows quite a lot about himself because he’s comfortable inside of his own head. 

When we’re just being introduced to who Simon Snow is, one of the essential parts of him that is presented to us is... that he’s in love with Baz. It is! We’re shown, rather than told, because he doesn’t know yet, but the feelings are already there. A biology anthropologist (answering questions about love) said the following: “But if you had to think about one, just one trait, that is most distinctive between the two, when you’re madly in love with somebody in a romantic attraction, you are obsessed. And in a platonic attraction, you don’t think about them night and day.” I share this because, funnily enough, it describes good ol’ Simon’s behavior around Baz from the very beginning of the book. 

Many things with Simon are show and not tell. Simon doesn’t really know much about himself, because he’s not comfortable inside of his own head, and he purposely doesn’t think. But again, his obsession with Baz is established from the very beginning, and the way in which he’s obsessed is very revealing. When Carry On starts, and Simon is in danger, his head goes to Baz. “If Baz were here...” “What would Baz do...” You would expect his head to go to Penny, the person usually fighting at his side. There’s no logical explanation for him thinking about Baz in such a scenario. One might even be tempted to think that, when Simon’s life is in danger, there’s a part of him that just wants to see Baz. Because he loves him. There’s a part of him that, completely unprompted, imagines how Baz would respond to a situation, because he pays enough attention to Baz to be able to imagine it in the first place, and because is completely natural for Simon for Baz to be constantly in his mind (because he’s in love). 

When Simon is laying on his bed, thinking about Baz, thinking about why Baz would be wanted romantically, he thinks that Baz being himself is enough to make him desirable. Because he desires him.

Simon goes to every match and listens to every violin lesson because he cares about him and wants to be part of his life. He cares about his interests, even though he doesn’t have to. Not really. Nothing actually forces him to watch him play football Every. Single. Time. He doesn’t have any kind of relationship with him that would make it an obligation for him to show up. Everything Simon says is a poor attempt at justifying it, but the truth is he just wants to (he didn’t need proof of anything. Again, he already knew Baz is a vampire, because he’s constantly watching him. Because he’s obsessed).

When Simon is following around him everywhere, he thinks about being under his thrall. This (”being under a spell”) is not an uncommon way to refer to romantic feelings and/or sexual attraction. Simon looks for something, and doesn’t know what that is, which is later connected to their kissing scene, when Simon thinks he has finally found what he has been looking for all along: having Baz like this. It’s very telling, the happiness Simon feels after kissing Baz. The interest he has on him: how Baz giving information to Simon gets ignored if it’s to push him away, but Simon is the most attentive listener if it’s to learn more about Baz.

Simon going crazy when Baz doesn’t show up and no one has an explanation. His tears and pain when Baz is showing him his own pain and self-destruction are also about love. He’s not just being a hero. It hurts to see Baz in pain because he loves him. He wants to know where Baz is and that he’s not getting in trouble and hurt because he worries about him. Because... he loves him! Even before kissing him, the feelings are there. 

How, despite Simon “demanding to know about his plots” he never actually wanted proof of Baz’s villainy. It hurts him and it makes him angry when Baz leans fully into the act, because he doesn’t actually want Baz to be “evil.” How he pushes back when Baz tries to frame himself as a bad person.

Simon tells him, not even 48 hours after kissing him, that he knows Baz has a soul because he has observed it. Because he’s in love with him. I think about how in WS Simon tells you he forgets Baz is much stronger than him, and that Baz never pushed him harder than Simon could push back. This is not something Baz would tell him. It’s something Simon noticed by himself, and I think this says a lot about what kind of person Baz is, and that it wouldn’t escape Simon’s notice, even when he’s not ready to figure out what it means (like he notices the horror in Baz’s expression with the tape recorder incident when it happens, or how he reveals he always knew the stair incident was an accident, meaning he picked up on Baz’s intentions/reaction as well). All of that supports Simon’s “I have observed your soul” doesn’t come out of nowhere. Simon has always been paying attention to him. 

It makes perfect sense that Simon wouldn’t even be able to tell you when he fell in love (iirc maybe not even Baz can point the exact moment, he brings up wanting to kiss a mole since they were 12, but he only figured it out when they were 15). Baz would think it happened over the events of CO, but Simon’s “stalking” shows his feelings were already there in fifth year. Simon’s pain in the following years (when he says he toned down the stalking because it’s already painful enough to live with him) it’s about how he already yearns for Baz, how it hurts to be so close “yet so far” from the person he want.

Honestly? the only substantial difference to me in CO is that the structure that allows Simon to not think or feel falls apart, alongside that wall between Baz and him. Simon, for the first time in his life, feels like he’s allowed to reach out for who he actually wants. And so he does. (And it makes him very happy. It’s intolerable to consider anything could go back to the way it was before he kissed Baz.)

[rillils]

what hurts me most is thinking abt people realizing just how YOUNG bucky actually is

it's so fucking unfair, it just breaks your heart to even think about it, doesn't it?

consider catfa. here you have a young man barely into his late 20s, when you're technically a fully grown adult, but really you're most likely still trying to get your shit together, you know, still figuring out how Adulting™ really works - and then it's one tragedy after the other for him

Bucky has his whole life ahead of him, and instead of getting to choose a path of his own, of building a life for himself, he is:

drafted into a war he never even wanted to be a part of

captured, forced into hard physical labor and ultimately experimented on against his will

kinda roped into going back to the front lines after being rescued (not against his will this time, but let's face it, there was no way in hell that he would have gone home while Steve was still out there putting his life on the line)

captured once more when his whole team thought him dead, tortured in every possible way, taken apart, experimented on some more, quite possibly put on god knows what kind of substances, either to further improve his physical performances or to aid in keeping him docile and easier to manipulate - or, well, for both of those reasons I guess

brutally stripped of his identity, his memories, his free will, his humanity, and reshaped into a killing machine, a weapon to be used whenever necessary, and, as they say, put away wet. and then rinse and repeat for sixty-nine years.

the truly horrifying part is that they didn't just hurt him, they also forced him to hurt other people. people whose lives were taken by his own hands, when he was barely even an unwilling passenger in his own body. so here he is, just… grieving,

both for himself - the years he lost to torture and brainwashing, and can never get back again; and the life he could have had, with all the people he loved, in the place he used to call home - and for all the victims of the Soldier and their respective families, left to mourn their loved ones, often without even knowing why.

he could have lived a normal, quiet, happy life, but all of that was taken away from him.

BUT but but butt butt

here's the thing.

actually, here's a couple of things.

you see, pieces of crap like Endgame will try to convince you that, if things didn't go exactly your way the first time around, you should just give up on your future altogether and fuck off to the past, where you can live out an unhealthy fantasy and have a creepy, dystopian-coded life as-- well, not even as yourself, just as somebody else wearing your own face.

don't listen to pieces of crap like Endgame, they give the shittiest kind of advice.

because! because even after everything he went through, Bucky's still alive! his life isn't over. and that's the beauty of it! he SO can still be happy, and do all the things he didn't get to do back in the day. sure, the timing might not be what he originally thought, back before the war, but just because his plans got derailed doesn't mean that he can't build his own life now. and that's exactly what he's going to do, one step at a time - and YES, with Steve by his side, if I get any say in this (and this being my answer to an ask on my blog, I get all the say lol)

so I hereby declare that Bucky gets to be as fucking happy as can be! like, SO MUCH FUCKING HAPPINESS, YOU CAN'T EVEN QUANTIFY IT. so much fucking happiness, you'd think he might get sick of it!!!! but he won't!!!!!!

I think he does find that calm he so desperately needed. I think he gets to find himself again, gets to meet all the parts of him he thought he'd lost, the ones even he had forgotten. I think, he even gets to meet some new sides of Bucky Barnes he hadn't had the chance to discover yet.

I think he learns that some days are worse than others, and on those days, he learns to show himself a little kindness, and a little forgiveness for not being who (he used to think) he was supposed to be, and a little love for who he is.

I think he also learns that, while there are some bad days, and there will always be, most of them are actually, surprisingly, good days. I think he learns that he has the right to have good days. I think he learns that he deserves to have good days. I think he learns that it's okay to feel good; that there's nothing silly or lazy in just sitting outside in the sun, and basking in its warmth like a happy little lizard, and wishing you never had to move from that spot at all.

I think he gets to be the nerd he always was deep down; science nerd, space nerd, book nerd, any sort of nerd flavor he can find the time and will to explore.

I think he gets to build a home for himself, with the man who always meant Home to him, more than any house ever could.

I think he gets to wake up to good-morning kisses, and to good-morning fingers carding tenderly through his hair, and good-morning playful groping under the sheets, and good-morning "sorry I just kneed you in the groin, lemme kiss it better for ya", and good-morning giggles because Steve's bedhead achieves epic levels of Bird's Nest first thing in the morning, and good-morning pretty eyes looking back at him from Steve's pillow, drinking him in like no sight in the world will ever be as heartrendingly beautiful as Bucky waking up next to him in their big, big bed, and good-morning "how do you want your eggs?", and good-morning "let's skip eggs and have french toast today", because today, today he's feeling good.

and that's only the start, honey 💕💕💕