#like it comforts me thinking about just being huge and untouchable

[choism]

Rough Rider | j.wy

twink!Wooyoung x afab!Reader

Genre: Smut, fluff

Summary: In which you meet a hot twink at a club who has a slightly unhealthy obsession with the 2000's and y2k bimbocore.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: reader is gn, twink wooyoung, top wooyoung, alcohol consumption, reader gets buzzed but not drunk, grinding, makeouts, cunnilingus, bathroom foreplay (pls dont do this), cumming untouched, fingering, wooyoung has pleasure piercings (tongue, nipple, dick), kind of public sex, buttplug usage, unprotected sex (no !), creampie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, cum eating, wooyoung has a huge dick, lots of dirty talk, i went ham with the smut

A/N: IT'S FINALLY HERE! I know I've been teasing this fic for soooo long but after rewriting and editing a ton of times, I finally got it! It's not as long as I'd like it to be but eh, I still think it came out good. If you blame anybody for this ides blame @cheollipop for indulging in dms foe the past month, she is responsible for this rot! Tysm to @pyeonghongrie for beta reading for me mwah mwah and extra special thanks to @atzfilm for creating the banner! I hope you all enjoy and remember to leave feedback!

WOOYOUNG'S SHIRT COLLECTION (Includes both shirts mentioned in the fic!)

The night was brisk with the cold air of fall, leaves falling from the planted trees in the sidewalk. Cars zooming past on the busy street, traffic bustling given it’s nearly 11pm on a Friday night. You and your friends decided to go clubbing, despite the chillier than average weather. They had raved about this brand new queer inclusive club that had opened up nearby and how badly they wanted to go considering the rather lackluster amount of gay clubs in the city. Hearing about a new club piqued your interest, you aren’t one to party much, definitely a more ‘mope at the bar’ kind of person but hey, it’s new and fun and your friends seem to be excited, and that’s enough to get you to go.

The three of you are about to enter the club, excitement coursing through all of your veins.

“We are about to go in! Wanna split or group first?” Your friend says, teeth chattering. Your friends didn’t really dress for the weather, deciding to wear more skimpy, cute outfits despite your protests that they will catch a cold. Admittedly they were cute outfits, but you just couldn’t justify freezing your ass off in this weather. You had opted for something a bit more suitable, a sheer, lace long sleeve undershirt paired with a tight vest, black jeans ripped at the knees, the threads hanging on for dear life and some multi-colored doc martens for added comfort. It was practical, and cute, two of your main goals for today’s adventure. You weren’t really attempting to impress anyway– just wanted some fun with your friends.

“I think we should group at the bar and get a bit more buzzed, pre-game wasn’t enough for me and I need some alcohol to warm me.” Your other friend speaks up, rubbing both of their arms for added emphasis. You all collectively agreed and finally the bouncer let you in, your friend speaks up again, “After a round of shots maybe we can split? I want to go explore a bit, scope the grounds.” They giggle and bump your arm and you laugh in return.

Seated at the bar you order two rounds of shots, one for the buzz, second for fun. You each down your drinks and make faces of disgust, giggling at each other's quirky looks. Soon after, your two friends split off to do their own thing for a while and you decide to sit at the bar, doing a bit of scoping of your own. The crowd is bigger than you thought it would be, definitely more lively and scattered. It’s nice going to a new club and seeing fresh faces and especially being at a more open gay club, the diversity is refreshing. You order a Negroni to sip on while you people watch, not interested in exploring yet and not interested in getting fully drunk. Staying buzzed is how you relax, much to your friends dismay, and much to your dismay your usually the one dragging them home, unless they decide to go home with some stranger for the night.

Sipping the bitter drink you turn back to the crowd. You decide to look over for your friends and see who they’ve decided to unfortunately drag onto the dancefloor and grind into for the night, when your eyes land on probably the most gorgeous man you’ve seen your entire life. He was swaying his hips against a man significantly taller than him, pushing back against him seductively with his arms wrapped behind loosely around his neck. His eyes were shut and clearly enjoying his experience, but that wasn’t what caught your eye. He was beautiful, his long black hair wavy and swept lightly over his eyes, his smile curved mischievously. Looking further down to his outfit, his top cropped showing his pierced navel, and if you squint you can see his, maybe pierced, hardened nipples through the white material.

What really catches your attention are the words on the front of the tee– Rough Rider– in angry bold red cowboy font, a small cowboy hat adorning the large R. You choke a bit on your drink, laughing to yourself.

Really, you don’t expect any less from some twink in an open queer club, but it’s still amusing nonetheless. Once you get over your musings, you continue examining him. He’s wearing the lowest lowrise jeans, barely even covering his pelvis and accentuating the V of his hips and– oh my god, is that a thong? As if he can hear you he turns to face the stranger he was just filthily grinding against and there, you get your answer. A hot pink whale tale poked above his waistline. Curling over his hips sexily. It’s honestly hot and causes you to pick up your drink once again, taking a more hefty sip. Now you also have a full view of his full ass and god, you don’t think you’ve ever been this attracted to some stranger in a club. He’s clearly seductive on purpose, using his feminine wiles to make everyone in the club bow to him, and it’s fucking working.

As if sensing your stare, the man turns around again and shoos off the other guy, opting to feel himself alone on the dancefloor now. But instead of closing his eyes once again, he ends up looking in your direction, directly at you. You look to your left. You look to your right. God damnit. The bar is nearly empty on either side of you. You gulp and sip on your drink, a weak smile painting your lips as the seductive man saunters over, taking a seat next to you. He ignores you at first, ordering a cosmo for himself and watching the bartender make it intently. His drink is set in front of him and he sips it, eyes fluttering as he turns to you.

“So, what’s your name?” He asks, his light voice like heaven. Could this man be any more beautiful? 

“It’s y/n, and yours?” You sip again, fluttering your own lashes. It’s not like you dressed like a slob tonight, and you're fairly curious so you play along, wanting to see where this encounter goes. He smiles with his teeth, probably the most mischievous smile you’ve ever seen.

“Wooyoung, Jung Wooyoung.” Wooyoung crosses his legs and leans more into the bar. “So what brings you here? You don’t seem like the dancing type, and you’ve been at the bar this entire time.” Has he been watching you?

“My friends wanted to come because it’s a new club, and I wasn’t opposed.” Yes, seem disinterested, that’ll hook him. You mentally slap yourself. The stranger- no, Wooyoung giggles. He stirs the stick in his drink, swirling around the pink edible glitter he asked the bartender to put in specifically.

“Well, y/n, maybe instead of sitting here ogling strangers, why don’t you dance with me a bit?” He smirks and takes the stick into his teeth, nibbling at it. You nod your head in agreement and he swiftly hops from the bar, grabbing your hand and guiding you onto the dancefloor. You can hear his giggle as he leads you into the crowd and it’s endearing.

Instead of grinding on you however, as you had expected from watching him earlier, he spins you around so your back is flush to his chest. He doesn’t move his hips against you though, probably waiting for you to consent first by flirting more. Instead he places his hands on your hips and sways the both of you to the beat of the music. A few minutes of swaying and you're bored, you never really dance and you want to see where this could go, so you lightly press your ass back into his crotch to chase some sort of friction. You can hear his breath hitch for a second, before you feel him lean forward a bit, “How far do you want to take this, sweetheart.” Now it’s turn for your breath to hitch.

You fully press your ass into his now semi hard member, still moving your hips to the beat. “As far as you’ll let me.” You stutter over your own words a bit, and are honestly surprised by your own boldness. You can practically feel him smirk against your neck, his breath fanning of it .

“Whatever you’d like, I’m yours for the night.” He kisses along your neck and fully rolls his hips into your butt, his movements precise to pleasure you in the best way possible. His hips dip underneath your shirt and it feels like time stops, like you are the only two people in this entire club. If you could, you would let him take you right here, in front of everyone.

“B-bathroom, please, now.” You barely mutter out and he takes your hand, intertwining your fingers with his as he drags you to the club bathrooms.

Since it’s a new club, the bathroom is actually fairly clean and you breathe a sigh of relief. You’ll be damned if you have sex in an unhygienic place. Wooyoung shoves you into a stall and immediately presses his lips into yours, feverishly kissing you as if he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment. You return his kiss and slip your tongue into his mouth, he moans loudly and grins, sucking on your teeth.

He presses his now fully hardened crotch into your pelvis, grinding down slightly to chase a bit of friction, then he pulls away and you whimper. “God fuck your so hot, let me eat you out please.” He says desperately, as if it’s his life’s mission to give you head.

“Yes yes, please, yes god.” You start to unbutton your jeans and you immediately regret your decision to wear them, the tight material barely sliding down your legs. Wooyoung drops to his knees and kisses your bare thighs, stroking them lightly in anticipation. Your underwear is still on and he can see how soaked you are through the material, showing a damp spot over the front.

“So wet for me baby, wanna make you feel so good.” He places gentle kisses over your clothed pussy, sending shivers down your spine.

“Wooyoung, please.” Needing no more instruction, he pulls your underwear down with his teeth and your core is now exposed to the air. He licks against your thigh, then the other one, teasing you before he finally places open mouth kisses against your clit. Your hand flies to his thick head of hair, pulling a bit at the euphoria. He suckles and licks against your clit like he’s a master at it, bringing his thick fingers up to prod at your folds and tease your entrance. He doesn’t hesitate, slicking up one of his fingers with his spit and sliding it into your dripping hole with ease, curling it a bit to give you maximum pleasure. You moan, not caring for the other people in the bathroom. They are all probably fucking each other too.

You look down for the first time directly at the scene, taking in how his hair falls to the front of his face, his veiny arms flexing with each twist of his thick, long fingers. God, his fingers are like cock. You didn’t know a twink could have such nice hands but you’ll never doubt yourself ever again. He’s not fucking into you forcefully but opting you curl at your g spot, deriving the most pleasure out of you as possible. He moans against your clit. Was he getting off on this? He wasn’t touching himself, one of his hands in your pussy, the other on your thigh. God that’s hot.

As if the worst timing ever, you hear a ding from your phone, then another, then another. You don’t tell Wooyoung to stop, opting to quickly look at your notifications.

Friend 1: where is y/n? why aren’t they at the bar :((

Friend 2: dunno may b they r getting fucked lol

Friend 1: yea right

y/n: busy, not coming home

Friend 1: OHMYGOD OHMYGOD

Friend 2: Y/N ARE U GETTIN DICKED DOWN RN ????

Friend 1: ITS ABOUT DAMN TIME

You set your phone down, not even bothering to read the slurry of texts they sent after yours because you're too focused on your own pleasure at the moment. You look back down and Wooyoung seems wholly unbothered, also seemingly too focused on getting you off. Now that you're paying attention again, you can feel your orgasm building fast, and as if he can sense it too he adds in two more fingers, curling into your pussy harder and bringing you closer to your finish. You're gonna come, you can feel it, the hot band expanding and about to snap. Has it even been 15 minutes? When was the last time someone made you come this fast.

Soon, you feel it hit you, and it hits hard. Your thighs convulse on either side of Wooyoung’s head and you can feel the wetness rush through. Wooyoung lets out a slurry of really loud moans that vibrate through your core, overstimulating you a bit. You push his head away once you feel too much and he sits back onto his heels.

You look down to see a very visible wet spot on his jeans.

“Did you-”

“Yeah, you just tasted so fucking good, couldn’t help myself sweetheart.” 

Oh my god, he came untouched from eating you out. Fuck, that’s hot.

He smirks and stands back up, “Why don’t we get out of here so I can make you feel even better, hm?” Kind of dazed and shocked, you nod your head and get dressed again, and he pulls you out of the bathroom, then out of the club doors, calling an uber.

***

Soon the both of you arrive at his apartment, he fumbles with the keys a bit but he opens the door, and you are met with a sight.

His entire apartment is 2000s themed. This man isn’t a twink, he’s a bimbo, and somehow that’s hotter. The couch is a deep dark velvet leopard print material, there's fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, a pink lava lamp on a bookshelf in the living room. Random posters littering the walls. It was honestly cool and interesting. Wait. This is a one night stand. You can’t be interested, duh!

“Sorry my apartment is a bit trashy, do you want some water before we continue?” He says lightheartedly, you didn’t know he could be polite. It’s cute. You mumble yes and he tosses you a water bottle from his pink fridge, and you take note of the Bratz magnet holding his grocery list and you snicker to yourself. He leads you to his bedroom which is surprisingly a bit more tame, littered with figurines of all kinds. Well, the Monster High dolls neatly organized on the shelf aren't exactly tame, but it doesn’t bother you, so it’s fine. His sheets are cheetah print, silk, and as you lay on them you forget the outrageous pattern and focus on how nice they feel, how much better it would feel underneath you as Wooyoung fucks you. 

“It isn't overwhelming, is it? I know I kind of have an obsession…” Wooyoung trails off, clearly a bit nervous about the way his interests have overtaken his apartment. “A lot of my partners tend to be taken aback.” He frowns, setting his own bottle of water on the nightstand next to his bed. He sits next to you on his bed and it bounces a bit with the added weight.

“Why would that bother me? I think it’s cute, and these sheets are nice.” You wiggle your eyebrows suggestively and he fully laughs, a blush dusting his cheeks. You can see a look of contemplation sweep his expression briefly, before he grins and pins you to the bed.

“Hm enough talk, let me please you some more sweetheart.” He kisses from your chest to your neck, suckling lightly and most definitely leaving a small mark. “Are you clean?” He asks between kisses along your jaw, making his way to your mouth.

“Yes, are you?” He grins wildly and finally kisses harshly against your lips.

“I am darling, are you okay with me filling you up, nice and full.” His choice of words are so hot, it sends a wave of heat through you. He places his thigh in between yours, pressing into your core roughly. “You’d like that, me filling you up with my cum, fucking into you properly. I’d bet you look so pretty on my cock sweetheart, trembling beneath me.” You moan into his mouth as he presses his thigh harder, before pulling back to take off his shirt. You were right, he does have nipple piercings. And actually, maybe you were too buzzed at the time, but you're just now noticing the cool metal that slides against your tongue with each press of his own. Holy shit he has a tongue piercing too.

You wonder if he has any more.

You sit up to take off your clothes as well, discarding them to the side and leaving you in your underwear. You didn’t wear any sort of bralette or bra, never thinking you would get any action, so you're left in your panties. Wooyoung shimmies out of his clothes too, but he makes a show of taking off his jeans. Oh that’s right, the thong. He turns, his back facing you, as he slowly pulls them down, revealing the bright thong. It hugs his ass so nice and oh my god that’s a buttplug. You’ve literally never felt more wet in your entire life. He takes off his thong and turns his head, “Wanna take it out for me?” He asks innocently and you groan. You crawl to the edge of the bed and pull his hips to the edge, eliciting a squeal from the small man.

Making a show of it, you twist the plug a bit, slowly moving it in and out and he whimpers, before you pull it out fully. His hole gasps around the emptiness and he finally turns around, if you weren't shocked before, you're definitely shocked now. His cock is hard and leaking, for one it’s huge and thick and veiny, the pink tip dripping precum and beading onto, you guessed it, a cock piercing, a prince albert pierced through his thick head and collecting the drips of precum. You look up and he smirks, “Like what you see?” he climbs onto the bed and you scooch against the headboard.

“Fuck yes, god Wooyoung please just, please fuck me already.” He licks a stripe from your navel to your sternum, making a show of tasting you. Wooyoung reaches over to grab a bottle of lube conveniently already on top of the nightstand, drizzling some into his hands and warming it up before slicking up his cock. He spills some onto your pussy, the cold liquid sending shivers down your spine before warming up to the feeling as he spreads it around, rubbing over your clit a few times.

“‘m gonna make you feel so good baby, make you feel so full.” He whispers as he lines himself up with your entrance, slowly pushing inside and god you can feel every inch as he pushes, filling you to the brim, his cock twitches inside of you a few times and finally he bottoms out.

“So big…..fuck.” You whine, wrapping your arms around him and clawing at his back. His cock is so big it barely fits, it stings a bit but it feels so good.

“Gonna move now okay? Let me know if anything hurts.” He moves out and you gasp, the feeling of him dragging along your walls feels so good, so so good, you haven’t had sex this good in, well, ever. He pulls out about half way before pushing back in, going slow so you can adjust to his length. The lube and your slick helps immensely, and soon he picks up his pace a bit. Wooyoung licks and sucks at your neck, shoulders, collarbones, and chest, leaving plenty of lovemarks and hickeys. The pleasure is rushing through your body, between his mouth all over you, the metal of his piercing dragging along your skin, and his large cock– the metal of his dick gliding along your walls– you feel your orgasm approach fast.

“Fuck, fuck faster Youngie, please more wan’ more.” You cry, tears stinging your eyes. The nickname slips out but it does it’s job, and he fucks into you harder, raising your leg onto his should to get a better angle. Wooyoung fucks directly into your g spot, the piercing atop the head of his cock feels so delicious, so so full. “Youngie gonna come, so close please.” 

“Fuck baby, gonna come too, wanna fill you up so good with my cum.” He pants, his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. Wooyoung brings a hand to your clit and rubs in a back and forth motion, bringing you to the edge, the band that mended earlier snapping once again as you cum all over his cock. He doesn’t stop, fucking you past your orgasm. The overstimulation is too much but at the same time, and you feel a rush, a wet heat builds alarmingly fast and then you feel a gushing wetness, like your peeing.

“Fucking shit, squirt all over my cock sweetheart, jesus.” 

“Woo- Wooyoung fuck huh feels good please!” While squirting Wooyoung finishes inside, as promised he fills you up with his cum and god it’s so much, never ending hot ropes filling you up and spilling from the sides onto the sheets as he fucks you through your second orgasm. The both of you are panting as you come down from your highs. Wooyoung slips out of you and you clench around nothing, his come spilling out a bit. He bends down and laps at his own cum quickly, trying not to overstimulate you any further, but trying to clean you up.

“Fuck y/n that was so good, that was the most I’ve ever cum.” He chuckles, getting up to grab a damp washcloth to clean you up, and lifting you out of bed and knot the small couch in his room so he can change the sheets. You help yourself to his drawers and ‘borrow’ a pair of boxers and a shirt. You don’t even look at the shirt, just grabbing some random one. Wooyoung comes back in with fresh sheets and looks at your shirt, drooping them on the floor to double over cackling.

“What? What's so funny.” You frown. Wooyoung points at your shirt and you look down, reading it upside down. “I heart submissive men?” You giggle, “Why do you have so many shirts like this?” You question, quirking a brow.

“Why, did you want one?” He laughs as he changes the sheets and plops onto the bed, patting the spot next to him. You curl up next to him, glad he isn’t kicking you out.

“What if I just kept this one, I like it, maybe I do like submissive men.” He snorts,

“Didn’t seem like that 10 minutes ago when you were underneath me, moaning my name.” You elbow his ribs and he fakes his pain, being dramatic.

“Well, maybe next time I want to be on top!” You huff and turn onto your back, staring at the ceiling. Huh, cute glow in the dark stars. Everything about him is so endearing, and draws you in.

He laughs and turns over next to you, propping an elbow underneath his head, “Who says there’s gonna be a next time?” He questions, genuinely curious. You turn over to him and place a gentle kiss on his lips,

“I do.”

© Choism 2023. do not repost or translate.

[heart4reigns]

UNTOUCHABLE, jey uso.

next chapter

warnings: curse words, cigarettes, alcohol, substances, parties, flirting, platonic relationship, implied sexual activities

tags: it’s an all girls-all boys campus party bash! college!au, and all those campus things… (y/n) isn't like other girls she's emo leave her alone, 10 things i hate about you situation

summary: you were totally untouchable to him

BEING in an all-girls campus was probably the worst decision your parents had ever made for you. you were in another state, far away from your comfort zone. it was your third year, one more year to go before you could escape this hellhole. “HELL YEAH, 86 BABY!” your thoughts were cut-off by your best friend’s voice. “that's what you get for studying non-stop." you smiled. "fuck, i'm finally free from mr. smith's wrath... my saturdays are gonna be wild again!"

the campus ground was divided by several groups. to your luck, you were put in the girls building with all of your sorority girl friends. on the other side of your ground was the boys building. the barrier didn't stop them from throwing huge parties, inviting everyone the could see or talk to. your roommate, becky, was one of the most popular girl you could ever think of. contrary to the 'it girl' image she had, she was a sweetheart. her boyfriend, on the other hand–was a lot. the lovebirds were your closest friends, you'd take a bullet for them.

people couldn't believe that you were in damage ctrl, the college's top sorority. truth be told, you were dragged by becky since her mother’s sister was the one who founded the club. you took a role in academics, helping everyone with their grades–you were quite the tutor for everyone. even the members of the fraternity respected you and occasionally asked for your help.

outside of your studies, you didn't have the presence that becky and seth had. sure, people turned their heads when they see you, but no one ever had the guts to talk to you. except for this mullet emo dude chewing his pasta in front of you. "you should start selling these, (y/n)." dominik praised your cooking skills. "can you please shut up, i'm trying to study." you groaned in despair. "we're literally hanging out and you still choose your books over me?" dominik was your first friend, a year older than you. he was in the same year as seth, finishing up his thesis. "i am looking up qualitative theories for your thesis, do you want me to help you or not?" "right, comrade. i'll just shut up."

"are you coming tonight?" it was a rhetorical question. of course you weren't coming to seth's party. "no, i am not." becky came to the park after her classes, she was sitting on the grass with you and dominik. "see, told you she wasn't coming." dom rolled his eyes. "she never comes to the bloodline frat parties." he continued. "that's because i stopped partying when i was 18." you used to be a party animal back in your younger days, you grew tired of the scene. "boo, i wish we were friends in high school." "dominik, i went to an all-girls private school."

"i mean, jey's definitely gonna be there." becky winked at you. "becks, that was like 2 years ago." you rolled your eyes. "shit, right. i remember you having a crush on him. that was so funny, he's like... totally not your type." you threw your book at dominik, earning a groan. "ow, that hurts! i'm telling the truth right here." you had flashbacks during your first year where you fawned over a certain senior who had arms covered with tattoos, always wearing a chain necklace, and a stupid fucking smile that made your heart beat faster than usual.

the three of you continued the conversation, when all the sudden you heard a menacing laugh coming from behind you. you immediately knew who it was. "SETH, IF YOU PULL MY HAIR ONCE AGAIN, I WILL ACTUALLY SMACK YOU!" right before he could lay his hands on your hair, he backed off. "awwww, that sucks!" he went over to sit next to his girlfriend, giving her a kiss. "hey babe, we were just talking about your party." becky said. "(y/n) is coming?" you shook your head. "as usual. what are your plans for tonight then?" he asked. "i'm going to town to pick up some books professor heyman asked me to get."

seth was the top frat boy of the bloodline. everyone knew the bloodline threw wild parties and tonight? it was one of the biggest since they were all going to graduate soon. "well, if you change your mind the password for tonight is 'don't tell my mom i fucked cody rhodes last night'." he winked. "was originally gonna be '(y/n) (l/n) helped me with my thesis' but we don't want you to kill us." dominik chuckled. "fuck off." you groaned. "we know you love us, (y/n)."

you were getting ready for your short trip to town. you looked at the mirror and fixed your outfit; dom's black jacket (that you took when he wasn't looking), a black tanktop, your favorite corduroy flare pants, and a pair of boots that becky and seth gave you for your birthday present this year. "you look too good to go to a fucking library." becky shouted from her room. "who knows i might meet a hot professor there?" she cringed at your sentence. "be careful okay? oh, no one's gonna be home because we're all going to the party." you nodded. "don't forget to leave the keys inside the flowerpot."

and like usual, becky forgot to put the fucking keys inside the flowerpot. you cursed under your breath, trying your best to call the entire sorority, only to receive nothing but voicemails. you had no other choice than to go there. "here goes nothing." you muttered. the walk to the frat house was thrilling. you had to hide behind a bush, a trashcan, and a tree because of the night-guards.

“password?” the frat boy asked. “don’t tell my mom i fucked cody rhodes last night.” you replied, remembering the password seth gave you earlier. the frat boy opened the door and you knew that you were going to have a very bad time. you scanned the crowd, looking for your orange-haired friend as she was nowhere to be seen. you spotted similar faces, trying your best to avoid them.

people were confused when they saw you stepping inside the house. it was a very rare occurrence for you to be spotted in a function. “oh shit dude, that’s (y/n).” you heard whispers when you passed by. “fuck, where the hell are you becky?” you were still trying to call her to no avail. you did not care about the people staring at you, you really needed the keys. the music was loud, it smelled like weed, and everyone was just having the time of their lives. everyone except for you.

you were squinting your eyes, looking for your friend, until a certain mullet-boy pulled the back of your jacket. “familiar jacket you got there, what are you doing here pretty girl?” you were relieved to see one of your closest friends in this fiasco. “thank god you're here, i’m looking for becky!” you shouted. “why are you looking for her?” he furrowed his brows. “she has the dorm keys!” you replied. “everyone’s here and i can’t fucking go back!” you continued.

“just stay in my room, here are my keys!” he pulled out his carabiner full of keys. you shook your head. “your room smells like weed and piss and the last time i slept there were roaches.” you joked. “hey, i have the cleanest room in the boys dorm.” he defended himself. "can you please help me look for becky? please?" his grin turned menacing. "okay," dominik paused for a second. "if you enjoy your time here."

hence the cup in your hands, you were still looking for your best friend. dominik dragged you around, his hands intertwined with yours. everyone thought you were dating him, but it was totally a long-running joke between you, seth, becky, and him. "dom! you brought your girlfriend out of her shell?" you rolled your eyes when you saw the blond man. "shut up cody, i helped you pass your lit classes last month." you barked at him. "you're right, sorry. it's just weird seeing you here." he spoke louder. "i'm looking for becky, have you seen her?" cody shook his head. "i saw her when the party started, i think she's with either seth or kota!"

dominik patted your back, "poor you, it's okay we can find her." you were stressed out. you took a sip of the alcoholic drink in your cup, feeling the alcohol down your throat. "that's my girl!" dominik smiled, mimicking your actions. "fuck." you sighed. "yo, dom! come here!" one of his friends called him. "i'll help you find becky, stay right here." before you could say anything, he left you alone on the couch.

you felt someone sitting down next to you and you turned your attention to them. you made eye-contact with him, it was the frat leader, the final boss of every single fraternity of this town, jey uso. your heart skipped a beat. "and who are you?" his voice was loud and clear, despite the music blaring loudly. you furrowed your brows. of course he doesn't know me, you thought. you met him once during orientation, which was probably like 3 years ago. other than that, you didn't have any interactions with the leader.

"i'm (y/n)." you replied shortly, not paying attention to him. "shit, you're the one who helped seth with his thesis? the outcast damage ctrl girl?" you took offense in what he said, so you chose to ignore it. you were focusing on your phone, still trying your best to text the groupchat. "hey, you didn't hear what i said?" you looked up from your phone, facing jey again. "what?" you barked. he had this amused expression after he heard your tone. jey smirked as he knew that you weren't fawning over him.

everyone wanted him. everyone, but you.

to be honest, you couldn't really careless about the boys in your college. ever since you had a little crush on jey (which was a long time ago), you never took interest to any of them. if they approached you, you knew you could just say you were dating dominik. he was your wingman. "i said, who did you come here with?" jey repeated his question. "dominik." you were still focusing on your phone. "you're his girlfriend then?" you only nodded in response. "you know," jey paused for a second. "you can't really lie to me. your 'boyfriend' is literally flirting with rhea right now." you squinted your eyes, seeing dominik flirting with one of your friends. "shit." you muttered.

"i never see you in our parties, what brings you here, pretty girl?" it was clear that he was flirting with you. "i'm looking for becky." you admitted, hoping that he would have an idea about her whereabouts. "lynch? she's upstairs!" your eyes widened in surprise. "oh, thanks." you stood up from your seat, only to have him follow you. "i don't need you to help me, jey." you glared at him. "baby, this is a frat party. everyone's either drunk or horny, of course i'm gonna be a gentleman." he winked at you.

turns out, becky wasn't upstairs. you couldn't find her. you spotted your friends and asked if any of them had the dorm keys, but to your luck, becky had all of the keys, being the head-girl. "fucking hell." you muttered once again, still having jey following you. "you look like you need a drink." he passed you a red cup. you decided to let your guard down for a bit. might as well just get shit-faced while looking for becky, you thought. "don't try to get me drunk, uso." you glared at him once again. "i'm not! just offering you a drink." you took a shot of the alcoholic drink.

jey didn't know why he kept following you. earlier, he had girls swarming around him, wanting his attention–but as soon as he spotted you, all his attention diverted to you. he actually knew who you were. (y/n) (l/n), contradicting to all the assholes frat boys, he admired you. you were a year younger than him, but you were smarter than everyone in this frat house combined. “hi jey, you busy now?” one of the girls greeted him with a wink. “yeah, with (y/n) now.” he replied, nudging you. you side-eyed him, not knowing what to do.

“fuck was that?” “it’s tiring being most wanted.” jey replied with smirk. the people around you were unfamiliar, you saw a couple of your girls leaving with their boyfriends. you sighed as you took another sip of your drink. “you know what, i’m just gonna stay at the library.” jey immediately shook his head. “and do what? helping mr. heyman with his chores? fuck that, come on. have fun, it’s seth’s last party here.” he was right. seth was graduating soon and you didn’t even attend his parties till now. “i guess you’re right.” you replied, earning a grin from him.

the alcohol got a bit in your head. “i should stop drinking now.” jey noticed that your face was slightly red, he didn’t want you to go full drunk and have nowhere to stay, so he took your cup. “right, enough break time, you still wanna look for becky or do you want me to get dom?” you shook your head, feeling a bit fuzzy. “no, no! don’t get dom. he might take me to his weed-ridden room.” you pouted in annoyance. “please help me find becks.” jey couldn’t resist your stupid fucking pout. he helped you get off the chair, dragging you around–he felt bad now.

you were never one to go out a lot with your sorority girls, so pity flared inside him. you just wanted to go back. “yoooo, who are you with?” you turned your head around and spotted his twin. jimmy uso, college heartthrob that asked you for help in last year’s chemistry. “oh shit, (y/n)! you’re with my brother now?” jey shook his head. “nah man, trying to find becky or seth for her.” jimmy saw your tipsy state. “dawg, i hope you find them soon. last time i saw them was like 2 hours ago, you know how good they are in hiding.”

the situation became slightly overwhelming for you. you dropped jey’s hand. “jey, bro. it’s okay, enjoy the party. sorry i bothered you. i’ll just stay in the library till becky comes back, thanks for your help though.” there was a slight disappointment in his eyes. “it’s getting kinda crowded here too, you wanna bounce?” he stepped on his cigarette.

so there you were, in his car, driving up north to the nearest city beach to watch the sunrise. at first you declined, wanting to stay behind in the library as it was open 24/7. but it wasn’t safe. it was a public library and you were tipsy. you had no choice but to trust this frat boy who was bopping his head to mf doom. you were closing your eyes, your phone died, and you had no hopes in reaching becky. you just hoped that she was somewhere safe with her silly boyfriend.

“you alright there?” you opened your eyes. “yeah. shit, we’re here?” jey nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt. “come on, the sun is about to rise!” he smiled, opening the door for you. “god, calm down! i’m having a headache.” his hands intertwined with yours as he guided you to the beach. it was empty and you felt really comfortable. the warm breeze of the ocean tingled your skin, making you shiver a bit. “here, take my jacket.” you rolled your eyes and proceeded to chuckle. “that’s kinda cheesy, but i’ll take it. since it’s fucking freezing out here.”

the two of you sat in silence, the sounds waves filling up your eardrums. “you know, i like this beach.” he blurted out. “huh?” “i don't take people here. it's kinda like a secret spot when it gets overwhelming. i know i give off a fuckboy vibe or so, but i like being alone too. despite all the gossips about me, i’m just a law student trying to get my degree.” he chuckled, pouring his heart out. “and why are you telling me this?” you asked, feeling confused.

“don’t know, just feel like i needed to clear things up about myself.” you nodded at his statement. since you were already talking to him, you might as well spill your heart out. “i had a crush on you back in my first year. saw you during orientation and i thought ‘damn, that dude is hot’ but you were still dating… what was her name? felicia? yeah.” you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up. you didn’t know if you were drunk or not but you just had to say it. “you’re lying.” jey stated. “am not! ask dominik, he knows all the tea.” you added.

“if we’re being honest with each other now,” jey played with the sand using his shoe. “i actually knew who you were. that talk at the party? that was all bullshit. i just wanted to talk to you, but you’re so untouchable.” jey confessed. he saw you as one of the girls he wouldn't mess around with. jey could get any girl he wanted, but you? with all of your achievements and this 'cold' persona? he didn't want to mess with you. the crush he had on you was pure and genuine.

you made eye-contact again with him, this time–he had a smile plastered on his face. “of course i knew who you were! damn, do you realize you have a lot of people looking up to you?” he questioned. “no, i do not.” “fuck, (y/n). all the boys want you.” the man sighed. “that doesn't matter to me.” the sun was rising up, causing the two of you to break eye-contact.

the scenery was breathtaking. jey uso was nervous, for the first time in his life. “gotta be honest, i had a crush on you too. i think it was your second year? but i thought you were dating dom so i backed off.” “no way, the dominik effect worked on some people.” you joked. the atmosphere became warmer as you felt him move closer to you. “i think my biggest regret was not talking to you in my remaining college years.” jey sighed, knowing that his time with you in the campus ground was limited.

“well, since we know each other now, how bout we start from the beginning? i’m (y/n), med student. a part of damage ctrl, i can probably do any assignments and can help you with all of your classes.” you offered him a hand. “and i’m jey uso, head-boy of the bloodline. i’m failing my classes and i recently developed a crush again on one of the sorority girls who can definitely kick my ass.” the two of you laughed at each other.

you continued talking to him about everything; life, academics, love, friendships, even your weird cousins. "it's getting so fucking cold, we should go back." jey suggested. "but becky..." you muttered. "you can stay in my room, i'll sneak you in from the window. the security won't check my floor. i can stay with jimmy." he sat up, brushing the sand from his pants. "actually, thinking about it. i wouldn't mind a jey uso right next to me in bed."

a/n: first time writing jey how are we feeling heart4reigns nation?? hope u enjoyed it as much as i did!! feedbacks/requests are highly appreciated!!

[moodywyrm]

hi mooney!

i just wanted to share my thoughts on abby n chubby reader (this was definitely NOT based on personal experience or anything) uhm, maybe slight trigger warning for implying an eating disorder?

maybe abby took reader out for lunch or something n absentmindedly said something about reader eating a big meal, (ex. "baby, you sure you're gonna eat all that?") not even meaning it in a bad way but reader thinking abby's suggesting she eat a little less, so reader just loses her appetite and goes kinda silent n doesn't say anything for the rest of lunch cs it reminds her of things her exes have said abt her; abby jus thinking she's sleepy, it goes on for like a couple days n abby getting worried cs her girl is eating less than usual n it's starting to affect her, like reader being more silent, slightly shaking a bit cs of how little she's eating n sleeping more cs her not eating is leading to less energy n it's jus reader falling back into how she used to treat herself before she met abby

abby finally decides to confront reader n reader jus letting the flood gates open n SOBBING to abby about how she thinks abby doesn't love her anymore n how she's sorry for eating so much n just saying how she's trying to get rid of the weight by not eating as much to get her body used to it.

abby is absolutely SHOCKED n confused on why her sweet angel is doing this n when reader explains what abby said, abby jus feels so bad n gives reader the best comfort n reassuring her that she meant nothing by it ["baby i swear! i didnt know :( jus didn't want you getting a tummy ache cs you ate a big breakfast too but i didnt mean you should stop taking care of yourself! :(( ] n abby jus making all of reader's favorite foods n making sure her girl is gettin all her nutrients n stuff in n jus being super comforting by letting reader cry some more n stuff

sorry if this is so long, jus had this thought bobbing around my head n needed to share it with someone :( feel free to get to this anytime ♡︎ hope you're having an amazing day/night

(also, could i be 💌 or 🐇 anon?)

TW: disordered eating, internalized fatphobia + hatred

hi baby! 1) imma choose 💌 bc it's so cute! 2) I'll say it, I have had this experience before (though admittedly without the sweet masc to help me out), so let's go! of course, trigger warning for disordered eating and general discomfort around food and body image. if you can't or don't want to read that, avoid this. avoid it like the plague.

it all started with a comment. you and abby were having brunch after class, as a treat for you having just submitted a huge assignment. and you're starving! you had no time before class to eat, and then your class was an eighty minute chunk. so you're so hungry, and you order a full meal, a smoothie plus a California club and sides! grapefruit, onion rings, fries. (obviously if you have any allergies or preferences, just imagine it's something else for this. the actual food isn't critical to the plot). and when you tell the server your order and they leaves, Abby turns to you and says "You gonna eat all of that, baby?"

and of course she doesn't mean it in a shamey, how-could-you-eat-all-of-that way. she meant it in a can-you-eat-all-of-that-without-getting-a-tummy-ache way. but that's not how it registered. and it makes you feel sick, even when you answer "maybe I'll just take the leftovers"

you definitely end up taking the leftovers, because you get maybe two bites into the sandwich, nibbling on the sides, and decide to just finish the smoothie. you have basically your entire meal untouched, and abby gets full off her own meal, so you have two containers of leftovers to take home, which makes you feel so shitty. and you can hear every negative voice in your head rise up, from family members to peers to exes, everyone who ever fatshamed you and made you feel wrong for trying to nourish your body.

you're quiet all the way home, quiet for days after. abby just assumes you're tired, knowing that you have a lot of school work. and partly, she's right. you are tired. you're fuckign exhausting because you're eating maybe one meal a day, (not) sustaining yourself on coffee and water, doing all of your assignments with no energy whatsoever. and you're fighting yourself, not knowing how to bring it up to abby. that it's not because of what she said, she didn't mean it, but it kind of is because of what she said. and it hurts so fucking bad. so yeah, you're exhausted.

it all comes to a head when you're sitting, kneeling, in front of your mirror, doing your makeup or just getting ready, and when you stand up, you nearly pass out. you're so lightheaded, slamming your hand out to the wall, trying not to fall over. your vision swims, and you try to stabilize yourself. abby, who was sitting at her desk, immediately gets up, practically flying to you and holding you up.

"shit, baby, are you okay?" and she sounds so concerned, you fucking break. the tears are so fast, you don't stand a chance at stopping them. you're standing there, sobbing, and abby is terrified. because she doesn't know why. so she gently guides you over the bed, still crying, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and trying to get you to a state where you can talk.

it takes about fifteen minutes, but you get there, still crying, still hiccuping out sobs, but at least somewhat intelligible.

"I just. I know you didn't mean it to be mean. But last week, at the restaurant, when you asked if I was gonna eat all of the food and-" You can't keep talking because it all floods back to you and you're crying again, clinging to abby like a lifeline, chest hurting from the sobs. But now Abby gets it. She remembers what she said and she figures out how it might've sounded and now she feels like shit. Because she never wanted to hurt you, but intent doesn't matter right now because she did hurt you.

"I'm so sorry baby. I didn't mean to say it like that, and I'm so sorry my words hurt you. I'm so sorry I hurt you. I only asked because I didn't want your stomach to hurt, but I should have worded it so much better. I never, ever, want you to feel guilty about eating, or anything, with me."

You're still crying, still clinging to her, but trying to get the words out. "It's okay baby, I should've" hiccup "should've talked to you, told you how I felt but I just froze" hiccup "and I was so scared you would think I was gross, so I stopped eating so much but that didn't help anything-" and again, you're crying so hard your head hurts, and now Abby is crying, sniffling, trying to hide it because this is about you and she knows if you hear her crying you'll worry about her. So she presses a kiss to your head, rubbing her hands up and down your back.

"I wish you would have talked to me, but I know it's scary and hard and it's so easy in theory. But I'm so sorry I made you feel like you couldn't talk to me. I will always be here for you, baby, always." and when she here's you whisper out a small "I love you", she hauls you into her lap. You're still crying, because you need to let it out, but Abby doesn't move a fucking inch, holding you for as long as you need.

Once you've calmed down enough to move to the couch, Abby gets to work cooking you your favorite meal, trying not to overload you with so much ood that'll make your tummy hurt, but trying to give you a good, balanced dinner after a week of hurt. Sitting at the kitchen island, watching you eat pasta with some lingering trepidation but an overwhelming amount of trust on your face, she would never trade that moment for anything, Abby knows that, for the rest of her life, she wants to take care of you. Wants you to live a life where food isn't pain or punishment, and you're allowed to nourish yourself and enjoy food when you want to.

[idabbleincrazy]

You're Welcome ~ A Missing Scenes Fic

Fandom: Angel (Buffyverse)

Rating: E

Pairing: Spangel, mentions of Cangel & Spuffy

Characters: Spike, Angel, Cordelia

Word Count: 7107

Warnings: Missing scene fic 5x12, angst, minor fluff, grief, emotional hurt/comfort, canon character death, blood drinking, Sire/Childe dynamics, smut, oral, intimate sex, anal fingering, anal, coming untouched, coming on command, solace

Summary: Spike helps Angel through his grief. Angel gives them a kind of comfort they both have needed for a long time.

A/N: I actually started this fic over two years ago, about the same time I'd started Destiny, and I am soo sorry it's taken so long to get this one finished! I may have lost the thread somewhere along the line, but I think it still works. Also, think of this as my 'except that one...' fic, as to me, Spike referring to him and Angel being intimate would be more than just regular sex, and specifically post-soul.

*Edit: forgot to mention a huge thanx to @leatafandom for giving major parts of this a beta read!

Squares Filled: "Could you stay a bit longer?" for @fandombingo , Leap of Faith for @anyfandomfluffbingo

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“You guys go on ahead to the bar, I’ll wait for Captain Forehead and the Cheerleader and we’ll catch up.” 

Spike headed back through the parking garage and made his way upstairs to fetch the pair of stragglers. Angel was still staring at the spot where Cordelia had been standing before the phone rang when Spike walked through the office doors. 

“Angel, Cord, are you two comin’ or-”

Spike stilled when he saw Angel standing in the middle of the otherwise empty room, looking around for Cordelia.

“Girlie off takin’ a powder? Angel?” Spike finally noticed the pained look on Angel’s and the tears in his eyes. He took a breath and the taste of grief hit him like a punch to the gut. “Angel, what...what happened? Where’s Cordelia?”

“She’s dead, Spike.” Angel’s voice was a faint whisper and Spike dashed forward quickly over to him as his legs buckled. Spike caught him around the middle just before his knees hit the carpet, shouldering his way under Angel’s arm and leading him over to the couch by the window. “She never even actually woke up, not really. She told me it was her gift from the Powers, to have one last day with us, to set us, set me, back on track. She’s gone, Will.”

“Cor, we’ve got to stop fallin’ for breakable little humans. No good ever comes of it, does it?” Spike kept his hold on Angel and Angel let his head fall to his shoulder, slumping against him with a sound somewhere between a huff of amused agreement and a sob. With the lack of space between them, Spike could smell her scent clinging to him, trailing from his breath. It smelt of love, of longing and peace. They’d kissed, and she’d poured every bit of herself into it, let it wrap around Angel like a veil. Spike couldn’t help but envy her for that. Being able to give herself to his Sire like that, in a way he knew Angel would never accept from him. He shook it off, knowing precisely the acute type of pain he was feeling. “I’m sorry, luv. She was a special bird, that one. Even before the Powers set their sights on ‘er. Brave as they come, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah. And so strong. God, the things she lived through, and she never gave up. Just always kept fighting, no matter what the Powers put her through. She deserved more than just twenty-three years in this world...” 

Spike could smell the renewed tang of tears as Angel spoke and he couldn’t help but to reach a hand around to card his fingers through strands of gel-stiffened hair. It’s what he did, wasn’t it? What he was. Cold comfort to soften the pain. Always that. Dru, Dawn, the Scoobies, Buffy, Anya...always turned to him when the loss was at its freshest. Needed the cold of his arms, his lips, his body, to chase away the white-hot flare of grief. Only to leave him there, chilled beyond the bone, once the tears dried. Except Dawn, of course. The Li’l Bit, at least, had seen him as more than just a shoulder to soak up all that salt. Had come to him as a friend, to hang out and watch whatever was on T.V., or just talk about the goings-on of the day. Before the reason for the soul, anyway. After, Buffy had come close to it, he was no longer her pillow to scream all her rage into then, had even held him back that last night, the closest they had come to being equal. More than he had ever dared to ask for, to even hope of receiving from her. 

His thoughts ran their course as he listened to the soft sobs of his Grandsire, felt the wet of his tears spread through the fabric of his shirt, and just held him. He could tell the worst of it was being held back, the demon warring with the soul for its weakness at such emotion. Knew how Angelus was in there, rattling the bars and spitting venom. Had spat venom at himself for crying that night and so many nights after, all one hundred and forty-seven of them. Couldn’t stand to see Angel struggle against the pain like this.

“‘S alright, Liam. It’s alright to grieve for her, Sire, no matter that the demon says otherwise. It’s not weak to cry for the loss of love.” Spike held him closer, his own eyes stinging in sympathy for Angel’s pain. He felt a hand clutching at the fabric of his shirt, and his dead heart clenched in sorrow. “Shh, Angel, it’s okay. Just let it out.”

And he did, then. A wail of misery, the likes of which Spike hadn’t heard since a similar sound had been torn from his own throat nearly three years ago. High-pitched and keening, like an injured animal, the pained sound filled the air, bounced off the walls of the office and back to them. Spike clenched his eyes shut at the sheer rage he felt lying beneath the layers of it, and clutched Angel even closer, one hand rubbing slowly along his arm as his Grandsire howled out his despair into the hollow of his throat. 

How long they stayed like this, Angel’s face buried in his shirt, tears soaking into the thin cotton, Spike couldn’t say. He felt tears roll down his own cheeks as the minutes ticked by, the evidence of Angel’s pain tearing at his heart in a way he hadn't realized he was still capable of feeling for the elder vampire after what they’d gone through the past few months. 

Eventually, Angel’s sobs died away, but the brunette made no move to pull away. Instead, he merely turned his head slightly, so that his nose brushed along the curve of Spike's throat. Spike stiffened as Angel nuzzled into his neck. Great, here he was again, an empty vessel for the ones he loved to pour their pain and grief into, needed only for the night and then shunned and shoved away in the morning; Drusilla had needed him at night but wailed for Angelus throughout the day, Buffy had taken him into her body in the dark shadows of Sunnydale but cried out for Angel when morning came, and now the one he could never be, the one he’d had to pretend he didn’t need just as much as they did, was holding onto him like a lifeline, needing him to save him from drowning. If only Spike could believe he wouldn’t cast him back out into the churning waters when the storm had settled. 

Frost had once written, 'home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in', so if that were true, shouldn't the reverse also be expected? How could you turn away your home, your true home, the one place, where, wrapped up in its solid comfort, you always felt safe? Angel was his home, his foundation, no matter how much he wished otherwise, and he couldn't find it in him to leave his Sire adrift like this.

As Spike felt tear-wet lips press against his skin, he let himself give into the innate desire that would always be the reaction to the touch of the elder vampire, turning his head to briefly capture Angel's mouth in a fleeting, gentle, kiss. Breaking away before Angel could deepen it, he stood up, pulling the brunette with him. 

“C’mon, pet, let’s get you upstairs, yeah?” 

Angel allowed himself to be trundled into the elevator, burying his face into Spike’s shoulder as the car rose up to the penthouse, fingers grasping tight at his shirt, Spike’s arms around him the only thing keeping him from collapsing into a nearly-catatonic heap on the floor. When the doors opened, Spike began maneuvering the bulky vampire towards the master bedroom, only for Angel to stop him and tug him down the hall towards the guest room. The room he knew would no longer smell like them, but her. With a sigh, he allowed himself to be led into the bedroom, unsurprised when the brunette let out a fresh sob in the doorway at the scent of the seer. 

Spike held his breath, unwilling, just yet, to inhale the flowery, sweet scent that would have taken the place of the smell of the blood and cum that had previously been spilled here. The too-recent memory of him writhing in Angel’s lap as they brought themselves to completion flashed through his mind, and he shook his head ruefully. And here they were again. About to go through with another bad idea. He knew what Angel would want of him, in his grief, and he didn’t have the willpower to deny him. Christ, he was beginning to feel like a fucking ping-pong ball. 

He helped Angel over to the bed and turned back towards the door, Angel's voice a desperate whisper behind him.

"Don't, please."

"Just gettin' you a whiskey, pet, tha's all." 

Spike walked back through the apartment, so very tempted to flee. He’d be well within his right, after all. Last time, Angel had denied him his presence when he’d all but begged him to stay a little longer. But he just couldn’t, for whatever reason. He couldn’t walk away from his Grandsire and leave him alone with his misery, not if there was a way he could help to alleviate it. Shrugging away any thoughts of running, he poured a couple large glasses of whiskey and headed back to Angel. 

“We…we need to call the others, let them know.” As Angel spoke, his hands were shaky as he searched his pockets for his phone. Spike crossed over to him, taking the cell from him and replacing it with one of the glasses of amber liquid. 

“Let ‘em have their victory for a few hours, yeah? There’ll be time enough for tellin’ tomorrow.”

Angel nodded silently in agreement as Spike set the phone on the nightstand. Gulping down his whiskey in two swallows, he watched as Angel sipped slowly at his own. Once Angel’s glass was empty, he took it from him and placed them both on the table beside the cellphone. 

“‘S the weekend, can have a proper Irish wake for your bird tomorrow, if you want.”

“Yeah…that would be nice.” Spike winced at the flatness of Angel’s voice.

Angel stared down at his feet, his shoulders slumped against the weight of his anguish. Spike was surprised he hadn’t yet tried to restart what they’d put on pause downstairs. Maybe he’d figured wrong.

“You sleepin’ here tonight, then, pet, or you wanna head to your room?” 

Angel didn’t answer, just turned his head to look at Spike, the pain he felt etched across his face.

“Here, then, I reckon.” Spike answered for him, slipping from the bed to kneel on the carpet. He took Angel’s shoes off and set them aside. Straightening up, he pulled Angel to standing, leaving him there to sway unsteadily as he pulled down the covers. Turning back to the larger vampire, he quickly unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his arms. His eyes lingered over the reddened flesh that was still healing from where the slimy little fake had pierced his heart, and he felt a rush of relief that the imp had not been fighting his Sire with stakes in hand. He unbuckled and removed his belt, but made no move to undo his slacks, stepping back to give Angel room. “C’mon, Peaches, into bed with ya.”

Angel came to himself enough to crawl under the sheets and grabbed Spike's wrist as he made to pull the covers up around him.

"Could you stay a bit longer? Please. I know I have no right to ask you, after…last time. I just don't - I don't want to be alone."

Spike looked down at Angel's pleading face and simply nodded. Kicking off his boots, and pulling off his duster, he turned off the lamp and climbed into the bed in the space Angel created for him. Immediately, Angel pulled himself against Spike, his arm wrapping around the slim waist and clutching him close. He let the brunette bury his face in his shoulder as the salt-tang of tears hit his nose, his hands soothing through his hair and over his back as Angel cried out the fresh wave of grief.

“‘S okay, luv, let it out. ‘M here, Angel, I'm right here. "

This new bout of tears was quieter and shorter than the first, petering out to small sniffles after just a minute or so. 

"I'm sorry."

“Sorry for what? Soakin’ my shirt? Don’t be, mate, trust me, I blubbered worse over Buffy. Sure you did, too.”

Angel sniffed again and lifted his head from Spike’s shoulder, looking at him in the dim light emanating from the hallway. 

“No. I’m sorry for not staying last time, when you asked me to. And for all the other shit I’ve put you through since you got your body back.” Angel sat up on his knees, wiping a hand across his tearstained face, and Spike scooted back to sit up against the headboard, eyebrows scrunched in confusion at the unexpected turn in Angel’s thoughts. “I’ve been an ass, I know, fuck, I’ve practically been acting like Angelus with you…on his better days, anyways. Pushing you away, only to turn around and pull you right back. Hell, I practically handed you over to Lindsey on a silver platter, made it so easy for him to get to you. I just wanted to keep you safe from the Senior Partners, make them think I really hated you, so they’d leave you alone. I never would have thought Lindsey would be dumb enough to come back here and try some dipshit stunt like this.”

Spike stared at Angel, his eyes wide at the sudden confession. This was certainly the last thing he had expected from the brunette, at least without an extremely loud argument and not a small amount of pain to instigate it. He hadn’t thought Angel would have admitted to his recent behavior all on his own, and now that it was all laid out like this, after having the big lunk crying his eyes out on his shoulder, it just didn’t matter. It wasn’t something he wanted to deal with, at least not right now. Besides, Angel's yo-yo treatment of him was far from the top of his list of worries…more pressing was the matter of whether his apartment was still just that, his apartment, now that Doyle - Lindsey - was gone. He didn't even know what name the lease was under. God, what a pathetic vampire he'd become, worrying about such human things as lease agreements. He was becoming…domesticated, and wasn't that a scary thought?

And anyway, just hearing Angel apologize seemed to go a long way to undoing some of the damage. The hurt was nothing new between them anyway. They’d only spent a couple lifetimes at it, after all. Blinking, he shook himself out of his scattered, bouncing thoughts, reached up, and wound his hand around Angel’s neck and pulled him down into a soft kiss.

“Don’t think I’ve ever ‘eard you string together that many words ‘less you were yellin’ ‘em.” Spike’s voice was thick with unchecked emotion as he whispered against Angel’s lips. “Look, mate, I’ve plenty of yellin’ I wanna do, an’ probably more than a few punches to throw, but not tonight. Let it go, yeah? Least for now. What’s done is done. Your heart’s hurtin’ for Cordelia, my ego’s bruised thanks to that shrimpy git, we don’t need to deal with more than that tonight.”

Angel nodded his acceptance and agreement and recaptured Spike’s mouth, deepening the kiss, letting himself get lost in it as his tongue delved between parted lips. Spike slid back down on the bed, his head resting on the pillows as Angel explored his mouth, the gentleness of the kiss taking him by surprise. Last time, after the incident, their kisses had been feral, bloody and brutal as they let loose all the built up need that their fight had only served to bring to a head. This one, though, held none of that brutality, no snarls of hunger and dominance, no fangs piercing into soft flesh as they devoured each other. But, underneath the tenderness, Spike could sense Angel’s growing desperation as his tongue stroked inside his mouth; desperation and longing. His cock hardened unsurprisingly fast at the evidence of Angel’s yearning that belied the quiet softness of his kiss, his hips arching up to brush his denim-clad erection against the matching length tenting Angel’s slacks, both of them moaning into each other’s mouths at the contact.

Breaking the kiss with a low growl, Angel began mouthing a trail down Spike’s throat, hands tugging at the thin cotton of his shirt as he nuzzled into the dip of his collarbone.

“Off,” Angel growled as he pulled away, eyes dark as he stared down at the blonde.

Spike groaned at the husky order, quickly shedding his tee shirt and pulling Angel back down to his newly bared chest. Angel snuffled at the hollow of his throat, a quiet keen vibrating against Spike’s skin as Angel pushed his nose into his clavicle, as if trying to push through, bury himself there.

“I still smell her.”

Well, duh. Spike rolled his eyes and bit back the automatic, heartless response. 

“Be hard not to, luv; she was laying here not that long ago.”

“No, not the sheets.” Angel nuzzled into him again, blunt teeth scraping over the skin of his throat as he whimpered. “Here. I can still smell her here. God.” 

Understanding clicked in Spike’s muddled mind and he hesitated, unsure whether he wanted to shove the brunette away or hold him closer. Of course, it wasn’t about him. Always about the girl, only the names change. 

Angel licked over Spike’s skin again, heedless of the blonde’s inner pouting. He knew he shouldn’t be practically pleading for Spike to allow him to bite, knew that drinking from him would only complicate things between them way beyond the tangled mess it already was. But, he just couldn’t help it. Cordelia’s scent lingered under the thin, pale skin, mingling with that of his Childe and calling to him more powerfully than either ever had separately. 

“Please”, he asked in a rough whisper, hoping for concession, praying for denial. 

Damned yo-yo string's gonna break one of these nights. 

Spike closed his eyes in resignation, and nodded once, turning his head to the side to bare his throat to Angel’s access. And, if he was perfectly honest, he was quite surprised that Angel had actually asked, rather than just tearing into his flesh and taking what he wanted. Hell, the scent of the ex-cheerleader that lingered on the sheets mingling with that of both of their own hesitant arousals was making it hard for him to keep his own demon from snarling and snapping. 

“Do it.”

He heard the crunch and shift of bone as Angel let the demon to the fore, and gasped softly at the needle-sting of fangs as they slid smoothly into his flesh. Surprise washed over him again at Angel’s unexpected care of the matter, how gently he bit into him. He let out a low groan at the slow pull of blood from his veins, only now realizing just how much he’d missed this, the feeling of blissful pleasure that came from family feeding from you. He’d seen that feeling etched on Angel’s face when he’d fed from him to speed his healing after the Dana incident, and he had to hand it to the brunette for holding back from returning the favor. Already he wanted nothing more than to twist Angel’s head to the side and complete the connection, tear into that thick neck and gulp down the rich blood that screamed of family, belonging. 

As Angel slowly sipped at Spike’s blood, a low keen sounding at the back of his throat at the taste of Cordelia and Spike and Aurelius, family, belonging, he let his hand trail over the bare flesh of the slim body beneath him, stroking softly down his neck, over his chest, and down, further still, along the concave of his stomach, fingers stroking across the pale skin just at the edge of his jeans. He could taste Spike’s need threading through every mouthful, and his own arousal surged higher, his cock painfully hard against the zipper of his slacks. 

This beautiful creature beneath him was offering him comfort, despite the pain he’d been causing them both over the past few months. Despite all the emotional whiplash, his boy was still here, providing him with a vessel to absorb his grief, allowing him to mourn in their way, the only one who would understand just what kind of solace was required. 

Swallowing a final mouthful, he let out a groan of gratitude around the fangs embedded in the smooth, cool flesh. He retracted his fangs from Spike's throat, laving his tongue over the torn skin until it began to heal. Once the last trace of blood was licked away, Angel continued his interrupted path, trailing his mouth over the pale skin of the muscular chest beneath him. He felt Spike tense slightly as he flicked his tongue over a pink nipple, sensed the blonde's hesitancy at taking it further, and a jolt of realization struck him.

"You're not her, Spike. That's not what this is. The blood was, but not this. I thought it was, too, but it's not." Still nuzzling his face against Spike's torso, he slid his hand down to cup him through his jeans, squeezing the hard length just enough to drag a soft hiss of pleasure through gritted teeth. "This is about us, Will, we both need this."

Spike let out a groan of capitulation, his heart wanting to believe Angel's words. His head warred with him though, still unable to accept that Angel wasn't imagining soft warmth where he was only hard and cold. Her life under his hands instead of his dead flesh.

Angel knew Spike wasn't completely mollified by his words, despite the slackening of his previously tense state, knew his boy was still reluctant to take his words at face value. Yes, he was still acutely feeling the loss of Cordelia, but it hadn’t been grief that had driven him to try to initiate things down in his office. Well, not just grief. He was tired of keeping Spike at arms length, tired of the longing, the loneliness. Pushing him away hadn't kept him safe like he'd intended. Pushing him away had instead left him vulnerable to Lindsey's slick lies, ready to believe anyone who offered him a glimmer of hope that he belonged somewhere. 

Guilt struck him as he realized Cordelia's death had merely given him the ready excuse to let himself give in to the always present need to lose himself in the blonde. The man in him would always love Cordy, would always regret the missed chances she represented, but both soul and demon had always yearned for the hard, cool body beneath him; it was the one thing they’d always agreed on. 

Pushing Cordelia to the back of his mind, he focused on the half-naked blonde lying prone under him, determined to put proof to his words. Spike’s eyes were heavy-lidded and dark with undeniable desire despite the wariness that still showed through. Angel's hand still encircled his hard cock, and he watched the younger vampire as he stroked down the length of the shaft, his own cock twitching as Spike bit into his bottom lip to stifle a groan. 

"Let me hear you, Spike, don't hold back. Wanna hear what I do to you, boy, all those sweet, filthy sounds you make." 

Spike let out a soft moan as Angel nipped at the edges of his abdomen, giving into the delusion the brunette was presenting him with, letting himself believe the lie even though he knew he was setting himself up for fresh pain when it was over and Angel kicked him out again. 

"That's it, my beautiful boy." 

Angel swirled his tongue briefly into the dip of Spike's navel, his hand still working the denim-covered erection, and mouthed lower still. Twice they'd come together in the past few months, and both times he'd denied himself the full pleasure of this intoxicating creature. He knew it wasn't wise to give in this time, either, but couldn't find the strength to hold steadfast to the restraint he'd managed before. Couldn't resist the need to taste again what he'd never forgotten, to see desire and pleasure etched into the marble features that haunted so many of his dreams. 

Letting himself enjoy this as much as he wanted Spike to, Angel teased his tongue along the expanse of skin just above his hips, licking at the cool flesh until a quiet plea was whimpered out through reluctant lips. The plea was louder the second time as he pulled away to undo the jeans that separated him from his goal.

Legs lifted without thought as hands tugged the fabric down and away, returning to that pale, sculpted flesh after soft woolen slacks landed atop the rough denim on the floor. Cursing the lack of moonlight in the windowless room, Angel made the most of vampire senses and two decades of memory as he gazed upon the naked figure sprawled beneath him. His eyes honed in on the one part he had avoided spending much focus on during their previous encounters, fresh arousal rushing through him as he took in the sight of the long cock that curved up toward a hard, flat (still too thin) stomach. 

Leaning down, Angel did what he had barely restrained himself from doing that first night and flicked his tongue over the weeping head that poked out of the quickly retracting foreskin, eyes fluttering closed at the salty taste of Spike's pre-come, so similar to the blood he had drawn from the blonde, but distinctly singular in its flavor. There was no Cordelia Chase here, no Aurelius; the slightly musky, earthy tang on his tongue spoke solely of William, a flavor he had not forgotten in the century plus since he had last savored it. 

Spike gasped aloud at the feel of Angel's tongue caressing over the tip of his aching cock, shocked by the act. As Angel groaned softly in response and closed his lips over his throbbing length, he felt the scale tipping closer towards the belief that this truly was about them, about their needs, and not about the grief of a dead cheerleader and love lost before it had the chance to blossom. Yo-yo thread fraying thinner, dangerously closer to snapping, and Spike's sanity with it. 

Angel slid his lips down the shaft, taking the substantial length into his mouth until his nose brushed the wiry curls surrounding its base. Swallowing around the girth, and relishing the moan he drew forth, he inhaled the uniquely masculine scent of the blonde's sex, memories flitting through his mind of times when that scent would fill their rooms for days, lingering in his nostrils even as they'd reluctantly separated from each other long enough to slake another kind of hunger. 

"Oh, God, Angel…" Spike couldn't stop himself from thrusting up into his mouth, it had been so long since he'd experienced its talent, and even back then, it had happened so far and few between, given only when Angelus had felt generous enough or when William had managed to make him particularly proud. "Too good, pet, gonna make me come too soon." 

Angel groaned, aroused further by the realization he could still bring Spike to the brink so quickly. Not wanting things to be over with too early himself, he reluctantly released Spike's cock and climbed off the bed. 

"Angel?" 

"Gotta find something…the only thing to use in here is her lotion…I-I can't…it's too-"

"I understand."

As Angel went off to find a suitable lubricant, Spike let out a soft sigh of relief, touched by the lengths Angel was going to to keep him and Cordelia separate in this. It gave him a smidgen of hope; not as much as doing this in the master bed might have, but some. And that would have to be enough for now. Even if, in the back of his mind, he knew that sooner rather than later, Angel would go back to his initial stance of keeping at a distance in the foolish hopes of shielding him from the Senior Partners radar; his Grandsire was a slow learner, after all.  

Angel returned in short order, naked now, bottle of lube in hand. He hurried back onto the bed, stopping Spike when he made to turn over. If he was going to give in, then he was going to do this the way he had wanted to in the first place. 

"Don't. I want to see you this time." 

Spike laid back down and Angel settled back between his legs, guilt renewed by the vulnerable look on his face. At least he wouldn't have to worry about finding perfect happiness, there was too much despair clouding the moment. Slicking his fingers, Angel began preparing Spike with more care than he had the last time, not wanting pain, at least, physical pain, to be a part of their coupling tonight. 

As he felt Spike relax beneath his ministrations, he eased a second finger in beside the first, scissoring them slowly until his Childe moaned in need, trying to buck down on the slippery digits.

"Please, Sire. Harder."

Angel groaned at the wanton, husky plea, thrusting his fingers into the loosening passage at a slightly faster pace, but still maintaining the force behind them, unwilling to let the blonde escape the nature of this moment behind a wall of pain. 

"That's not what you need, little one. And it's not what I want."

Spike groaned, turning his face away from Angel's intense gaze, reluctantly giving himself over to his Grandsire's determination to convince him this was different. He felt the thread draw taut, snapping under the tension, leaving him falling from an impossible height with no way of knowing if Angel would be there to catch him, or if he would end up splattered across the pavement like a bug on a windshield. He had hoped for at least a modicum of rough treatment to keep his mind focused, a sting of pain to ground him and keep him fettered to his belief that Angel was treating this the way he had the last time. Without that distraction, with Angel being so gentle, so like the good times they'd had before everything went wrong, he couldn't deny his heart, no matter what doubtful thoughts nagged at the back of his mind. He could only let himself dive headlong into what was being offered, and hope it wouldn't leave him devastated.

Angel wanted Spike to look at him, wanted him to stop hiding away, but knew he couldn't press the issue, not when he'd caused the doubts in the first place. Instead, he let his actions say what he never could, his fingers stretching Spike open little by little, a third digit slipping in only when there was more than enough give. Ignoring his own cock's throbbing need to sink into the willing body beneath him, he sought out Spike's prostate, working the nub teasingly until the younger vampire wrenched his head back towards him, a cry of pleasure falling from his lips as their eyes finally met in the near dark. 

"Please, Angel...need you now."

Angel nodded and eased his fingers out, deftly slicking up his aching erection before shuffling forward, notching the head of his cock at the rim of Spike's clenching hole. As he pressed slowly into him, he grabbed Spike's hands in his, raising them to lay entwined on either side of his head. He stretched himself out to hover over the blonde as he bottomed out, his head dipping down to smother Spike's broken moan with a deep kiss.

Spike's eyes rolled back at the feel of the slick slide of Angel's cock as it filled him, his grip on the brunette's hands tightening as he felt himself stretch to accommodate the steely girth. Giving up on holding back, he threw himself into the kiss that fell upon his lips, his legs lifting to wrap around Angel's waist as their tongues grazed across each other's, his heels digging into the older vampire's taut backside, urging him deeper, pulling their bodies closer together.

Angel felt the moment his doubtful Childe stopped resisting what he was trying to show him, and he couldn't hold back the groan of relief. Releasing one of Spike's hands, he cupped the side of his face, continuing the passionate kiss as he started thrusting slowly within him. 

Spike soon began squirming under Angel's teasing pace, his free hand sliding under Angel's arm to clutch at his back, nails digging into the shoulder blade where he knew the tattoo rested. He wanted to break the kiss, turn his head away again; not to hide again, but to offer his throat to Angel once more, and to free his mouth to voice his keens of desire to the silence of the room, but Angel was keeping him nearly immobilized in his all encompassing embrace, swallowing down the sounds of need and returning them like an echo. 

He could feel the tip of Angel's cock brushing against his prostate on every instroke, his own aching length trapped and leaking between them, and he felt his orgasm drawing inexorably closer. Finally, Angel released his mouth, the brunette's lips trailing along his jaw as he fought to catch a breath he didn't need. 

"Angel, fuck, please…" Angel's teeth grazed over his throat where he had previously bitten, and his words caught in his throat, his cock pulsing out a steady stream of pre-come to pool in the hollow of his heaving abdomen. "Bloody hell! Bite me, luv, please; bite me or fuck me harder, something…I'm so close, jus' let me come!"

"Not stopping you, William, just feel it, and let go." Angel nuzzled into the curve of Spike's neck and raised his head, staring down at the blonde. "Look at me, little one, wanna see you." 

Angel kept his pace steady, unerringly striking against the nub of flesh he knew was driving Spike towards climax. His own release loomed within reach, the sight of the blonde writhing beneath him, the feel of Spike's cock rubbing against his stomach with each thrust, of his tight hole clenching around him, pushing him closer to the edge with every passing second. He still wanted Spike to finish first, this time, not as a show of dominance, but in order to see the face that haunted his dreams contorted in pleasure. Angel dropped the bulk of his weight down on Spike, pinning his hips to the bed and providing extra pressure against his cock as his pelvis ground against it with each thrust.

"Come for me, Will, I'm right behind you. So tight. Jesus, so perfect. Come for me."

Spike scored his nails down Angel's back, exacting pain if he wouldn't be allowed to feel it, and the soft hiss and faint scent of fresh blood drove him over the precipice he teetered on. His cock pulsed between them, tepid seed surging hard and fast from the prolonged need to come. He arched up into the miniscule space between, lifting his head to smother his howl of release into the curve of Angel's throat. It was all too much, the slow, gentle lovemaking, Angel's insistence that this was about more than grief; he wasn't sure if he would be able to handle whatever came next. 

"Oh, fuck, Spike!" Angel groaned out and thrust deeply once more, letting his orgasm wash over him as Spike clung to him. Spike may have buried his face in his shoulder, but not before Angel had caught a glimpse of the intense pleasure that had rippled across his features. It was a sight he had regretted missing out on the few times they'd come together like this since Spike's re-corporealization, and he knew he'd been right in his assumption that he wasn't the only one who'd needed it this way. 

As they both came down from their climaxes, Angel rubbed his cheek against the side of Spike's head, allowing him his privacy as he came back to himself. His spent cock slowly softened and he let out a soft grunt of regret as it slid out of the tight sheath of flesh surrounding it, Spike's responding groan making him clutch the blonde closer, finally releasing his hand to encircle his waist. He maneuvered them both onto their sides and let Spike remain wrapped around him, just as he used to after their more rigorous bouts of lovemaking had left William too worn out to do much more than snuggle in closer. Like back then, Angel began murmuring soothingly, the past so painfully present as he held the slighter vampire close.

Spike hated this. The waiting. Waiting to see if Angel would push him away again. He wanted to run away, scramble out of Angel's soft embrace, snatch his clothes off the floor and hightail it out of there before his Grandsire had the chance to break him. He wanted to. But he couldn't find the will to move; not with Angel's arms still wrapped around him, the soft susurration of his voice in his ear bringing him back a hundred years. They had never been like this; not once, since the curse that took Angel away. This was the first time in a century that he and Angel had not just fucked, but been truly intimate with each other. He only hoped it wouldn't be the last. 

Finally needing to face whatever repercussions came from his giving in, Spike disentangled himself from Angel, rolling away to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. As he made to stand, Angel's hand caught at his wrist, stilling him. He didn't have the strength to turn and face him, nor to pull away.

"Will you stay?"

Spike's shoulders slumped in relief and he fought to keep the welling of emotions out of his voice as he responded with a bravado he didn't quite feel.

"Yeah, alright. Prob'ly don't have a flat to go back to anyways, right?"

Angel gave a shaky laugh and Spike let himself be tugged back down to the mattress, settling into the curve of his body as he pulled the comforter up over them. Angel draped his arm over Spike's hip and pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck.

"Sleep, William. I'll have Gunn take care of it in the morning."

Barely two hours after his eyes drooped shut, Spike awoke to Angel's screams. Blurry eyed and muzzy from sleep, he merely soothed his hand along the vampire's arm as the screaming turned to sobs. As Angel calmed, he whispered softly to him, nothing in particular, just quiet words of comfort; things he'd have wanted to hear when he had been in his place, those three years ago.

When the brunette had finally settled, he pulled Angel into his arms and wrapped the covers back over them as Angel burrowed his head into the curve of his neck, his lips pressed softly against the spot he had so recently fed from. 

As Spike began to drift off again, he felt a presence in the room, not human, but not dangerous, either. He lifted his head enough to crane around to look at the doorway, but found nothing there. Shrugging it off as just his weary emotions projecting outwardly, he settled back down in the bed, letting sleep find him as Angel unconsciously clutched him closer.

Cordelia hovered by the bed, a small smile on her face as she reached down to brush a stray lock of hair from Angel's forehead. 

"Salty goodness, indeed. You'd think, having already seen you two getting groiny almost constantly for nearly twenty years way back in ye olden days, not to mention the dozen or so times within the last century, I'd be over how unbelievably hot that is. And, actually, pretty beautiful. I swear, if I ever get another reprieve from all this celestial hoo-hah, you know, time off for good behavior", she cast a glance heavenward pointedly, "I'm definitely gonna see about getting in on that action.

And you, mister,” Cordelia turned her gaze to the slighter vampire, “you better not screw up this chance you were given. We pulled a lot of strings making sure the world’s sleaziest lawyer was able to find the right spells to retrieve the amulet, and you with it. Hilarious that he actually thought he was slick enough to have done it without a little divine intervention.”

Spike shifted restlessly in his sleep and she smoothed her hand along his cheek until he calmed, her smile turning sad.

"I'm counting on you, bleach-boy, don't let me down or I will find a way to smite you. Angel cares about you more than you realize, take it from someone with inside information. He's gonna need you by his side for what's coming. And, yeah, he's going to piss you off royally, and the big buffoon’s gonna keep trying to push you away, thinking he needs to keep you safely away from all this, but, just give him the benefit of the doubt, huh? Our boy has a big task ahead of him, and you're a huge part of it, for whatever reason. You are a Champion, Spike, you've got a chance to make a real difference now, don't waste it, either of you. Take care of our boy, Blondie."

Leaning over the two sleeping vampires, Cordelia pressed a whisper of a kiss to their cheeks, sighing softly as Angel relaxed further into Spike's comforting embrace. Straightening up, she cast them one last wistful glance and faded away, her heart heavy with the pain she knew was coming to them, but hopeful for their future beyond it. The Powers had brought Angel his biggest ally, whether he would admit it or not, she'd given him her gift, gotten him back on his path, and now, she could only hope for the best, the rest was up to them.

****

All Things Spike: @leatafandom

[yunhohours]

omega x + power dynamics

a/n: this was somewhat asked for by one of my anons! hope this satisfies your ox curiosity <33

jaehan: probably not super into power dynamics but sometimes he gets so goddamn subby </3 he’s either a pretty tame service top or he’s inconsolably whiny and trying like hell to get his way with puppy eyes only monsters could resist. it all depends on the day! and the person. people that intimidate him easily push him into a submissive space and people that are soft and sweet activate his instinct to take care of.

hwichan: brat tamer #1. absolutely loves a misbehaving sub, would never admit it to anyone. loves to punish but loves alluding to and threatening punishment even more. gets a huge kick out of seeing his sub anticipating his next move, head full of only him. will keep you like that all day long without hesitation. may sub on special occasions or if he’s extremely tired, but he will make sure to flip the tables as soon as possible so you don’t get too comfortable with the idea of it.

sebin: softest dom!! :( like jaehan, he probably isn’t crazy about thinking in terms of power dynamics but you’re his baby, okay? he will move heaven and earth to make you happy and will take care of your every need and desire the very moment he’s aware of it. you simply will not be lifting a finger if he has anything to say about it. because he doesn’t like to keep things strict in the bedroom, he will sub for you if you really want him to. he’ll have to be pretty well talked into it, but he’ll do it for you! anything for you.

hangyeom: switch. as. hell. oh my god, the definition of a switch. the prime example. he literally switches by the day. one night he’s your little pillow prince, so needy and grateful and well-behaved and the next he’s teasing you with a smirk so delicious you could probably cum untouched (but don’t worry, he’s touching. a lot.). he probably works best with an obedient sub, but he can handle a bratty one too. just don’t be bratty all the time because he’s ultimately a sweet boy! he wants to praise and be praised.

taedong: dom. no doubts about it. he likes–no, needs–to be in control and you have to like it that way too because he won’t be hearing anything to the contrary. leans hard dom–he’s very serious about his expectations and making sure they’re followed. can punish the brattiness out of you, but he doesn’t love a bratty sub tbh. he’d prefer you to be obedient. he gets a big ego boost watching his sub try so hard to please him and behave even when it’s difficult for them. he’s also into pet play do not @ me.

xen: switch. he likes to think he runs the show, but he’s just as likely to be at your mercy. loves power dynamics, especially when he’s calling the shots. would probably die if anyone knew how much he subs for you. he just can’t help it. he gets so moody and needy and just wants you to take care of him please :( he’s a well-behaved, needy sub for you, but wants you to be a bratty sub for him. he likes you feisty. he likes the challenge.

jehyun: soft boy with quiet confidence. isn’t too fussed over what your dynamics are in the bedroom. would feel weird with a partner that takes power dynamics too seriously. for him, it can be fun on occasion, but he’d rather you two just be together without being so concerned about those things. can take control or relinquish it–either is fine with him. very attentive! very ambitious! will always make sure you’re left satisfied.

kevin: switch. probably says he doesn’t really care about power dynamics but his eyes say otherwise when he’s domming you. waffles between soft dom and hard dom so you’re always on your toes. he tries to be playful as a sub, but he’s very sensitive so it doesn’t last long. he always gets the best sleep after a night of you overstimulating him. he is willing to try anything and everything so you’ll never be bored with him. 

junghoon: brat tamer #2. junghoon can technically do it all (10/10 soft dom! beautiful subby boy!), but he was made to tame brats. just a quirk of his eyebrow is enough to let you know what he wants and that he means business. he gets the most shit-eating grin on his face whenever you try to have an attitude with him. suddenly he has something fun to do and an excuse to make you beg and cry for him later. king of subtly enforcing these dynamics throughout the day in ways that no one would really be able to pick up on–sometimes not even you. more of a soft dom during the course of the day, but not so soft when it comes time to play.

hyuk: service top! <33 your pleasure is always first and foremost. only really toys with the idea of power dynamics–like putting a “rule” in place but he’s so obviously light-hearted and playful about it that it doesn’t cut it (not that he wants it to). he just wants you two to have a fun and playful sex life. he’s very sweet and romantic so he doesn’t like to think of you as anything but his precious angel that he gets to love and love on. he’s more okay with you objectifying him, but only to a point.

yechan: brat tamer #3. please, please, please be a pain in his ass. he eats that shit up. he loves seeing how much you’ll try to push him. he’ll tease you and then ignore you and act like he can’t understand why you seem so needy “all of a sudden.” he loves dirty talk so much and can keep himself satisfied with just that for an incredibly long time. it’s also one of his favorite ways to get a rise out of you–usually when you least expect it. just loves so much when you try and push him and he gets to show you how wrong you were to underestimate him <3

[ethanhuntfemmefatale]

(Same anon) the craziest part about the jim/ethan/claire Sin Motif for me is that it’s not just a sin, it’s one on the Ten Commandments (thou shall not covet) a fact that Jim literally throws back in Ethan’s face right before he kills Claire. Like it’s one of the Big Ones and to your point I think it is the most morally gray Ethan ever gets on a personal level. Like in the future we see him struggle with big decisions with huge moral ramifications on a worldwide scale, but I don’t think we can get there without baby Ethan having to navigate the worlds most toxic throuple.

As to it not being his fault, I do find it interesting to compare the beginning of the movie, where Ethan cups her face while she wakes up and it’s very obvious he has feelings for her (the only part where he actively shows his feelings for her unprompted) vs the rest of the movie which is her making moves at him while he reacts fairly passively, even before he knows Jim is alive, which is SO fascinating to me, especially because that first scene is the only one where the audience doesn’t know she’s married so it’s the only one free of Jim’s presence. I’m sorry it just really is the worlds most toxic throuple because any time two of them interact you can tell the existence of the third is the elephant in the room. Something I think you’ll really get a kick out of is that the track that plays when Claire and Ethan have their hand kiss moment after Ethan meets with Jim is named “love theme?” and that the same track plays (though quieter) when Jim and Ethan are talking, specifically starting when Jim talks about Claire. So who’s love theme(?) is it? And the answer is it’s all of theirs. I love Brian DePalma that crazy psychosexual freak

WAIT YOURE KIDDING OH MY GOD WAIT

oh my god

ok that information is everything to me i feel amazed. and a little in love with brian depalma

ugh ok anon thank you for writing this i hope you don't mind another rant i can feel it coming on. i have endless thoughts about these three i guess and every time someone pokes me with brilliant ideas like these^^^ they come spilling out

first of all i love your point about ethan being the most physically affectionate with Claire before the audience knows she's married to Jim. on a narrative level that makes sense but also in narrative it makes sense too? because in the whole movie that's probably the time when the omnipresent "Jim ghost" is the least pressing and painful. To get a bit into the weeds with Jim theorizing I think it's easy to imagine that part of the benefit of Jim being away all the time (beyond making it possible to conduct deals with Max and plan intricate murders) is that Jim being distant makes Claire's job of seducing Ethan way easier. It's obvious in the initial scene with the team that Claire and Ethan have bonded more in Jim's absence--'that sludge you made in Kiev' and claire's dry little 'thank you' gets me every time--part of this is that when Jim is away, the guilt of whatever is happening between Ethan and Claire is less pressing and immediate, it makes it easier for Ethan to be in denial about the reality of the situation. Part of this is also that with Jim gone, Claire acts as a proxy-Jim, a source of indirect connection to a Jim who is distant and untouchable.

One of the ideas that I was attempting to set up in the pre-Prague fic was this idea of uneasy peace that becomes comfortable through exposure--a big question of MI1 to me is how the hell do you get to that place where your dead(?) father figure's wife comes up to you, kisses you on the cheek, moves as if to kiss your lips and then backs away. and you react with--emotional pain, confusion, but not surprise. It really seems like he's used to it. And I think that the tightrope walk of The Sin is probably something Ethan has been walking for a long time when we meet him in MI1, and he's probably done a lot of mental work trying to convince himself that he's not going to fall over the edge.

the "thou shalt not covet" line made me lose my entire shit when i first watched the movie and still does every single fucking time i see it. but i have a really hard time being able to place exactly why it gets to me so much. part of it I think is The Sin being voiced. that scene between ethan jim and claire in the climax is so completely electric because it takes something unspeakable, that has been unspoken and unspeakable for probably the better part of Ethan's time in the IMF, and then speaks it in the most crude and cruel way possible. "tasted the goods." "thou shalt not covet." I love the one-two punch of those lines because they lay out Jim's moral perspective in a really brutal way. They basically really quickly establish Jim's obsession with--to go back to something I talked about in my last rant to you, anon--purity, religious purity that has nothing to do with genuine love and care, everything to do with superiority and power and control.

When Jim talks about Ethan's love for Claire, it's not as a personal betrayal (you're in love with my wife!) but as an abstract recognition of Sin. It's distant! It's paternal! He's scolding Ethan! And this comes literally seconds after he admits to the seduction plot. Which is fascinating in itself. It doesn't matter whether Ethan coveting Claire happened organically--he was vulnerable to it. He fell in the trap, and to Jim that signifies religious weakness. I've talked before about how Jim sees Ethan as similar to Claire, and I think this might be a good example of that. Jim points out this weakness in Ethan to convey the idea of, you can never be a hero, you can never win, because you are corrupt and sinful and vulnerable. It feels...almost gendered ngl?

Then there's the whole aspect that Jim's evidence for Ethan falling for the seduction, his evidence of Ethan's sinful weakness, is actually just the two facts that a) Claire doesn't want Ethan to die, and b) Ethan wants to believe that Claire is innocent. Which are both symptoms not of the fucked up seduction thing but of...love. Genuine care, even in the sea of lies. Jim's perspective then becomes some sort of awful merging of two ideas: first, 'love is a weakness and a moral impurity that destabilizes your ability to be powerful and superior and a hero'. second, 'there is no genuine love and care, it's all manipulative, covetous, lustful and sinful.' which is. A Lot. and again very indicative of Jim's worldview and the worldview that he's imposed on Claire for years, and Ethan more indirectly for years.

not sure if im making sense here.

anyway this is getting long i do genuinely have more thoughts but they're not totally connected so I think I might put them in another post. thank you so so much for this ask anon i am in your debt

[sajirah]

The Prison Chapter 4

Faerie Tales

A/N: New chapter is finally here! Keep in mind the rating for this has gone up to E, so if you're not comfortable with that, I'd recommend skipping the last scene of this chapter (starting at the line "That's not a very nice story."). As always, you can read here or on AO3. Enjoy.

-o0o-

For a little while Feyre had no idea what she was looking at. 

She’d spent the last few hours wandering further and further inland, happening upon more houses but strangely, every time she tried to stop and explore them she’d feel the strangest urge to…move on. As if she had some urgent need to be elsewhere. 

And so the homes remained blissfully untouched and she found herself delving deeper and deeper into the forest, pulled by that urgent feeling clenching at her heart. Just a little further, she felt herself think, even though she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. It wasn’t like she had any idea where she was going. 

And then she began to notice the bones. 

They weren’t glaringly obvious at first. If anything she had mistook them for all the other human detritus she had found, crumbling and buried under a sea of moss and ivy. But then she had stumbled over a claw. A great big claw, as long as her shin. And then she’d seen the other bones, bleached by the sun and hidden under layers of lichen. Some towered over her like oddly shaped trees, while others lay buried under mud and moss. She couldn’t really make heads or tails of what kind of creature it was. It had claws so it clearly wasn’t a whale, but neither was it an elephant or any other large land animal she could think of. It wasn’t until she found the skull that a very different picture began to take hold in her mind. 

At first she’d mistaken it for an automobile under all that green, but then she’d seen the teeth, long and sharp and as long as her arm. The snout was long, the shape almost reptilian. 

It looked…like a dinosaur. 

Or a dragon. 

She stared back at the rest of the skeleton, its long and winding spine curled around trees and half buried under the mud and undergrowth. Whatever this creature had been, it had been huge. But what could kill a creature that big? Perhaps it had simply died of old age. 

Or, at least, she hoped it had. Nothing scarier than imagining a monster of a creature wandering this island…and then being taken out by something even bigger and scarier. 

Feyre shivered. 

Perhaps this was the monster that old man had warned her about. It was certainly large and alien enough to inspire nightmares, let alone whatever strange ghost stories the prisoners had dreamed up. Perhaps they’d found these bones and it had been enough to scare them away from the forest forever more. 

Then again, she thought, thinking of the strange and haunting voice that had woken her last night…perhaps not. 

She pondered those thoughts as she eyed the slowly dipping sun, well below the tree line now. If she circled back now she’d end up stumbling around in the dark long before she ever made it ‘home’. And the last thing she needed was to accidentally walk in the wrong direction and end up back on the beach. At the same time though, she wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of sleeping without a roof again. Even less so by the thought of doing so near a giant mysterious skeleton. 

Then again…it was also the only real shelter around. The last house she passed had been at least a couple hours ago and she couldn’t afford to try finding it now. Her eyes were drawn back to the long dead creature. It was hard to look away from it if she were being honest with herself. She felt that almost painful clenching in her chest again and rubbed at it absently. 

“Whelp,” she said to the skeleton, resigned. “It’s a good thing you’re dead. Because now you won’t care if I do this.”

And then she crawled into its rib cage. 

-o0o-

“You’ve come back to me.”

Feyre blinked at the man lounging next to her. His arm was drawn behind her over the back of the sofa and she felt his fingers toying idly with her hair, staring back at her with those uncanny violet eyes. 

“You.” She remembered him this time. Rhys. The same man from her dreams. From all of her dreams since coming to this island. Why had she not remembered him before?

“Because I didn’t want you to,” he replied to her thoughts as easily as if she’d spoken them aloud. “I couldn’t have my mate getting spooked before we’d been properly introduced.”

That was another thing…

You can hear me. In my head. 

“Darling,” Rhys drawled, leaning in until his lips touched the shell of her ear. “All of this is in your head.”

Feyre frowned…and then realized. 

“This is a dream.”

She felt him smile against her ear and couldn’t help but shiver. “So clever, my mate.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“My mate?” His lips were skimming down her throat now. She wouldn’t be surprised if he could feel her thundering pulse. 

“Yes.”

“Because, my darling Feyre, that’s what you are. My mate. Mine. My other half given to me after so many centuries of rotting in this awful world,” he said against her skin, the hand toying with her hair now gripping it possessively as the other came up to wrap around her throat like a collar. “As soon as I felt you wash up on this island I knew you were mine.”

“Felt me…?”

“I feel everything in this place. I am the shadows under the trees and the roots deep under the ground. There isn’t a single piece of this island that I don’t touch.”

“Except…” Feyre interjected, trying to gather her thoughts as Rhys licked a stripe up her neck. “Except the beach!”

She felt him frown and then pull away to look her in the eye, suddenly very serious. 

“Yes,” he admitted, grudgingly. “Except for the beach.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Rhys seemed both amused and confused by the question, as if that wasn’t at all what he’d expected her to say. “Because that’s where the curse ends I suppose.”

“Curse?” She repeated dumbly. She was a bit too old for fairy tales. 

“Oh but that’s what I am Darling.”

“What?”

He leaned close again, a mischievous smile on his face as he whispered into her ear. “A faerie.”

There was a beat of silence as his words settled in and then all Feyre could blurt out was “You mean…like the ones in Ireland?”

Rhys seemed at a loss by this reaction. 

“Can’t say I know where that is.”

“Soooo…you’re not from Ireland?” 

“No,” he said, eyes distant. “No, I wouldn’t say I’m from there at all.”

“So where are you from?”

He glanced back at her with those strange violet eyes of his, and then he said, “Let me tell you a story.”

-o0o-

The story went something like this. 

Once upon a time there was a faerie named Rhysand. 

He grew up in a land called Pythian, a child of a loving mother and a cold High Lord for a father. His was a life of privilege and power. He had friends and family and lovers. And freedom. Though he hadn’t known it at the time, his life had been damn near perfect. 

And then the war had happened. 

Most humans in Prythian were slaves, you see, and the faerie courts who held them weren’t keen on letting them free. And so war broke out. Court against court. A faerie kingdom across the sea joined the fight, siding with the courts who refused to give up their slaves. 

And the war went on for years. 

One by one, the war took his family. First his mother and sister at the hands of his enemy. Then his father, blinded by rage and desire for retribution for his lost mate and child. And so it was at the height of his grief that Rhysand was crowned High Lord. 

And that was when she came for him. 

The king was losing the war, you see, so he grew desperate. He and his generals saw that Rhysand was weak. That he was too distracted by his grief and inability to wrangle his court as a fresh High Lord to see what his enemies were up to. That they had discovered a weapon from their ancestors and planned to use it to their advantage. 

And so Rhysand met them in open battle, not realizing his mistake until it was too late. The king’s general met him on the field, a cunning sorceress wielding the ancient weapon, and when their powers clashed they tore a hole in the world. 

And they fell through. 

And landed on a strange little island. 

But before they could go back from whence they came, the hole closed. And the weapon disappeared. The general was furious. She hadn’t actually known what the weapon would do. Nor that it would leave her stranded on some alien world with her mortal enemy. An enemy, she quickly realized…that was still reeling from what had just happened. 

And so, as Rhysand still lay there, shocked at this strange turn of events, the general stabbed him in the heart. And wove a dark spell so that he wouldn’t heal. So that he would remain trapped wherever his blood spilt. And it was there he died. And there his soul was trapped. 

Forevermore. 

-o0o-

“That’s not a very nice story.”

Rhys shrugged. “I never said it was.”

“So that skeleton I found…” Feyre trailed off. The one she must be sleeping in right now. 

“Yes,” he answered gently. “Even now I cradle you in my heart.”

She grimaced. 

“Oh don’t make that face,” Rhys laughed. “You did that all on your own.”

His smile turned mischievous once more as he pulled her close. 

“In fact, I quite like the thought of you sleeping here,” his fingers rested over her heart before sliding lower. “Safe. Content. Where you belong.”

He whispered the words in her ear as she felt those fingers slip over her belly and then down, down under her skirt and over-

Feyre moaned. 

“That’s it sweet girl.” 

She wasn’t sure if it was the pet name or the feeling of those clever fingers between her legs that made her shiver. 

Probably both if she was being truly honest with herself. 

Distantly, she remembered that this was still a dream. None of this was real…and yet it was hard to focus on that fact when she could hear her blood roaring in her ears and feel her cunt clenching down hard on fingers that slipped inside her like they belonged there. 

And then, between one moment and the next, Rhys was kneeling on the floor and lifting her bare legs over his shoulders. She cried out at the loss and confusion overtook her as she tried to understand why he’d moved. What was he doing?

“Wait-” But Feyre barely had time to realize that her clothes were suddenly gone, let alone try to puzzle out what this man was doing down on the floor, before her self proclaimed mate was licking a long, lewd stripe up her cunt. 

She wasn’t exactly sure what sound it was she made, but whatever it was had Rhys groaning in approval. She couldn’t focus. Heat and pleasure overloaded her senses as Rhys lapped away at her like a cat with a bowl of cream. Was this something men actually did? 

“I’d be more than happy to do this every night to prove that.” Rhys said, gazing up at her from between her thighs, and the sight alone was dizzying. Before she could reply though he went back to feasting on her cunt as if he’d never stopped. She felt the heat at the center of her grow, pulsing in time with her heartbeat. 

“I need,” she gasped, shaking now, not even knowing what it is she was asking for. 

I know what you need. A voice whispered in her mind. 

Two fingers slid inside of her and curled, as if searching for something, before Feyre felt her whole body jolt. A strange feeling overtook her. Her belly clenched. Her legs tensed. She didn’t understand. She’d had sex before. She’d had an orgasm before. 

So what was this feeling?

No you haven’t. That voice snarled in her head. I’ll make you forget you ever gave those bastards the time of day. You deserve this. Every time. Forever. Until the stars goes out. 

And then she was lost to delirium, legs shaking, pulse racing, toes curling. Rhys held her through it all, cradling her to his chest like the most precious thing in the world, whispering in her ear about how beautiful she was, how long he had waited for her, but most especially…

“You’re mine, my love. And I’m never letting you go.”

[obb-z-scene]

RIProducer's "Pyrite Girl" reminds me of Rick!!

TW mental health and suicide discussion

NOT PROOFREAD IF SOMETHING DOESNT MAKE SENSE IM SORRY

Analysis below. I'm working from the end to the beginning because I said so.

This is the end..chorus? Christ I'm in choir I should know this. Anyways, something about this just screams his mental state. Not all of it, but a lot of it. It showcases how he's both a huge ass egoist and extremely self loathing. Him just knowing he's destroying himself and that he's going bonkers, but also fully deluding himself into thinking that he IS God and is untouchable when in reality he will break any moment now. It also ties into the irony of the title Pyrite girl, which is also known as "fools gold" due to being mistaken as gold for its colour. His "shield of gold" is really a fake protector.

Him putting up protective emotional walls so he does not get attatched again. Probably after Diane's death, and possibly also from being betrayed by Prime in their partnership/relationship? I'm unsure where their relation to eachother will actually lead canonically but I've read some interesting theory posts and it's got me convinced a lil bit so I'm adding this.

He oh so badly wants to be understood and comforted but he doesn't have anyone anymore because they all either left or betrayed him. (Let's push Squanchy and BP aside for the sake of convenience I'm tired) and this will soon turn into a need to hide the vulnerable parts of himself away.

Ricks response to Prime's betrayl, "you left me covered in gold" implying that Rick is the reason he is the way he is today. His anger is new but so is his grief, and it hits so very hard. ("don't you try me! Don't take it lightly!" And "I'm broken, yet somehow, still alive.")

"I've been pulverized for the past five thousand five hundred days." References his endless hunt for Prime. It's exhausting and killing him so badly, example "you shattered my mind one thousand times.", but he's counting every single day to torture himself because he can't keep failing his family. This can also be backed by how the AI in his old house taunts him so horribly, and he even fucked with the time in that dimension just so he could suffer and continue to look with a constant agonizing reminder.

This mainly just reminds me of all the enemies and allies he's made but there's also an actual point here. The people in his life that love him want to try and fix him in their own way. People like Birdperson and Morty. Probably even short term partners, not-seen-in-canon-friends, and probably Unity too when it broke things off. It realized it could not fix someone that wants to stay broken. And Rick does need support, he needs his big support system because he's been so lonely for so long. But without him putting the work in himself, not much can be done. I actually read a fanfiction where Unity had used some sort of mind control to make Rick pass out before he killed himself, and I think that was really smart but also sad. It knows it can't jeopardize it's own health to be around him, he is toxic and infectious like the plague. He seeps into every person around him to survive, but it sees the humanity in him.

In conclusion, the song can be seen as Ricks fall into...himself. or a fake self, someone he shouldn't have been. You can also just think all of this is bullshit and that's okay too. This song is really good and it's story is both a thinker and easy to place at the same time! I hope I made sense and that my tired almost-4-AM brain didn't make you want to retake kindergarten. Feel free to pm me or comment whether you just wanna tell me how your day was or you want to discuss this more. :)

-Ozzy

[i-did-not-mean-to]

if are accepting ant requests...

Reader plays with bubbles in the bathtub, any character of your choice tries to avoid being splashed by them

Please?

Hello Nonny,

As I've said, I was looking forward to this one a whole lot...so here goes nothing...(and I went with ficlets after all)

@laurfilijames, @medusas-hairband, @eunoiaastralwings thank you so much for your input, I've kept your characters as anon seemed to like them :D

Disclaimer: This is pure crack, please don't come for me. I clearly don't know what I am doing and - especially for the Silm characters - I am not claiming that this is an accurate portrayal!

ENJOY!

Words: 1,9 k

Warnings: Nudity, sexual innuendo, slightly romantic (but not always)

Characters: Thorin x Reader, Dwalin x Reader, Elu Thingol x Reader, Caranthir x Reader, Ulmo x Reader

Thorin II

“What do you think you’re doing?” the king asked sternly, looking down in dismay on the dark splotches of water and the tiny clumps of foam on his tunic; to you, it looked as if tiny sheep were merrily frolicking in a summer sky.

“Oh, come on, Your Esteemed Haughtiness,” you laughed, flinging another handful of iridescent bubbles at your beloved, much to his visible astonishment.

Thorin was generally surprised whenever his punitive stare did nothing to disparage you in your mischievous streaks of harmless fun.

“You’re no better than the lads,” he muttered under his breath, “and you’ve just ruined my best tunic.”

Mirth – quiet and sly – made his eyes twinkle like gems in the firelight though and – seeing your challengingly cocked eyebrows – he lifted the sodden garment off his muscular frame at an agonisingly slow pace.

The last glimpse you caught of his regal countenance before it was swallowed by wet fabric betrayed ambition and something darker that made you shiver despite the comfortable temperature of the water you were floating in.

Your joyful splashing turned into the rhythmic melody of liquid crashing against the sides of the bathtub as your thighs clenched around the ghost of what was to come; you could hardly wait for it and yet you knew that you’d pay your trespass dearly if the king’s smirk was anything to go by.

“Will you not behave?” he purred, closing his broad, callused fingers carefully and yet emphatically around your wrist, suspended seductively and glistening wetly from the delicate rim of the bathtub. 

“No,” you laughed as you brought up your other hand – full of bubbles and foam – and blew it into his face just as he was leaning in for a kiss. 

“Oh, I guess you’ll have to be taught a lesson then,” Thorin bellowed, laughter dancing on every full, velvety note of his beautiful voice. 

Dwalin 

“DWALIN!” you cried, doing your best to give your voice that panicked edge that brought him running – axe in hand – into your bath chamber.

“What is it? Where are they?” he roared, swinging the weapon threateningly over his head.

“Come here,” you whined, buried deep within the shadows of the massive walls of soap bubbles you had stirred up by flapping your hands about like a demented sea creature for a good long while.

Loyal and protective to a fault, the tall warrior stormed over with as much powerful determination as if he was charging across a battlefield rather than merely crossing a single room of moderate proportions. 

“Here,” you drew him in further; the tub was so huge that you could fold yourself into the darkest corner – almost untouched by the flickering light of the yellow candles – and lie in wait.

As his bald head poked through your meticulous construction though, you brought your palms together and – scooping up as much soapy water as you could – you splashed it into his darling face with trilling, cheery giggles.

Spluttering and blinking frantically, Dwalin let his disapproving gaze fall heavily on you.

“That’s it, wee one,” he grumbled, “bath time is over.”

And, without further ado or even the slightest concern for your rituals of vanity, his muscled forearms plunged into the warm water and lifted you out of it – dripping all over the floor – and over to the bedchamber where he threw you onto the bed with much gusto.

“Ya think t’was funny? Ay?” he growled, the stern frown belied by the twitching of his mouth under the impressive beard and moustache, “Ay! We’ll see…”

Crowing with pleasure and breathless laughter, you twisted and squirmed as those hands – so skilled in battle and so tender in his affection – started tickling you mercilessly.

“Play stupid games,” he whispered into your ear, “win stupid prizes!”

Elu Thingol

You shouldn’t find this so funny, but you did.

“This is the third robe you’ve ruined,” Thingol hissed, shrugging out of the beautiful garment – every stitch a work of art – and throwing it over a chaise longue to dry, “if you don’t agree with my pick, just say so; you are making me late!”

It was his own fault if he couldn’t help his vanity (or was it lack of confidence in his own taste?) and wanted to flaunt every outfit he chose for his meeting with emissaries from the other realms to get your approval. 

“I’ll stop,” you promised, “but you really need to relax!” 

Elu Thingol frowned; he was an important Elf, he was a king, he had seen the light of the Trees for Eru’s sake and yet, his meticulous planning of his day was foiled by a single creature intent on splashing his Royal Highness with soap bubbles. 

“I have no time to relax; I’ll relax in the Halls of Waiting,” he grumbled, patting his beautiful silver hair as if to make sure that there were no unwelcome tufts of foam in it that would inevitably ruin his dramatic entrance. 

“You’re the prettiest king,” you crooned mockingly, which earned you a hard stare and a minute shake of that elegant head, perched atop an only half-dressed body. 

A hard knock on the chamber doors echoed into the room and he turned around sharply, giving you another warning look – sharp as a blade and as fond as any you had ever seen – before striding over to kiss the top of your head.

“Do you want to take a handful of foam? To blow at your opponents?” you asked innocently, holding out the ephemeral gems on your palm like a peace offering.

“They are my kin,” he sighed, “and childish as they might be, they might not have my supreme sense of humour.”

His very tone – self-deprecation and confidence swirling like your hands under the water surface – made you break into a peal of chiming laughter. 

One well-shaped eyebrow rose in silent judgement of your reaction before he strode out, chirping: “Luckily for you, I don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater.”

Whether that comment referenced your relationship – strenuous and loving at the same time – or his negotiations, you could not say, but you had seen the wicked, little smile on Thingol’s face before he had turned away; truly, nothing made him happier than to deliver a bad pun after telling someone off, and you both knew it.

Caranthir 

Heat rose with such a rapid and burning passion in Caranthir’s cheeks that you thought for a moment that the bubbles speckling his beautiful face would just turn into hissing steam.

“I am going to drown you,” he hissed warningly, but that did not discourage you in the least, so – gathering up yet more foam in your hands – you kept bombarding him with it relentlessly. 

“Come on, pretty boy,” you laughed, “let me see what you’ve got!” 

You had expected many things from one so dignified – to the point where people liked to call him sulking and brooding – but never would you have expected him to simply kick off his boots and all but jump into the large bathing pool beside you.

“Carnistir!” you exclaimed – scandalised – when his hands settled on your shoulders and pushed you under the surface of the water slowly and tenderly.

“That’ll teach you,” he whispered when you came up again, gasping for air and laughing at the same time which made for a very unattractive sound, “to splash me like that.”

“I thought you were in need of cooling off,” you teased, tapping a finger against his high cheek – flushed with emotion and indignation – lovingly.

“Why do you bait me so?” he complained darkly which made you yearn to just lean over and press your lips onto that source of warmth – real and metaphorical – that was his beloved face.

“You are exceedingly easy to rile up,” you explained with a conciliatory smile; you loved him truly, and all his perceived flaws were the flowers in the garden of your life even if he couldn’t quite understand that at times.

“I guess I am,” he conceded, leaning back against the edge of the pool as if he was not sitting fully dressed in the large marble basin like the adorable fool that he was.

“As you are already here,” you purred, “and reasonably tempered now; how about you join me?”

“You contradict yourself!” His captious little quip made you giggle under your breath.

“If you don’t intend to make me your laundress – while you wear the clothes meant to be cleaned – I’d suggest that you take them off?” you chuckled softly.

“Will you stop annoying me if I do?” 

Being one of seven boys, Caranthir knew better than to trust the suspiciously innocent batting of your eyes and the expression of perfect trustworthiness washing over your features.

“I will drown you,” he repeated his previous threat, but his voice held no bite now.

“Not if I get to you first,” you replied with angelic patience and a naughty gleam in your eyes.

Ulmo

“What is this travesty?” 

Frightful and intimidating in his otherworldly appearance, Ulmo looked like a huge sea monster trying to emulate a pet as he knelt – folded upon himself – on the shore, peering into the small tub you had dragged all the way out here to show him a bubble bath.

“Why would you taint the purity of the water I have so graciously gifted you?” 

He sounded utterly scandalised as he watched you pour a fragrant, oozing substance into the tub before sinking into it with a contented sigh.

His eyes, shimmering in all the colours of the wild ocean, were huge and mesmerising as they followed the movements of your leisurely paddling hands, whipping up scented froth on the surface of the warm water.

In a playful gesture, you blew a few whisps of it into his direction and he flinched back like a wave withdrawing before a tsunami.

“What are you doing?” he thundered, pulling closer once more to inspect the slowly disintegrating bubbles with renewed interest, "Explain this to me!”

Fingers that were nothing like actual digits poked tentatively at the fragile, scintillating orbs which – obviously – made them pop soundlessly.

“It burns,” he complained.

“It does not,” you contradicted, “these are safe for babies. Are you a baby, Master of the Sea?”

“I am as old as time, nay, older yet,” he grumbled, vexed by your insinuation, and brought down his hand in a mighty wave upon the pitiful remnant of foam to wash it away.

“I do not enjoy this,” he muttered, “I will never understand your hunger and enthusiasm for frivolities such as this.”

“I guess you shan’t,” you laughed, leaning back in your tub, and listening to the melody of the ocean, “but you don’t have to. Thank you for letting me show you, nonetheless.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, joining in your laughter in a sound of waves crashing into the rocky shore, “what I do like is to see you happy though.”

And because you knew how much he enjoyed a good song – and you wanted this afternoon to hold some pleasure for him too – you intonated a love song to the sea that the ocean itself picked up; as the notes liquified and flowed effortlessly into a stream of soft splashing and soaring words, both of you smiled. Life was good, with or without bubbles.

Eager to please and to write what people ask, IDNMT throws together a whole lot of characters she has no handle on...LOL

If you liked this, please feel free to reblog or comment, it would absolutely make my day ❤️

Lots of love (and bubbly bubbles from me), chaotic as ever...

💝💝💝

-> Second (much darker, angstier) part

[navree]

https://twitter.com/sunshove/status/1611420410012401664?t=E-_OgwO--KM8nt74Jsi0NA&s=19

Thoughts?

As I've said before, I'm an Alicole "shipper" I suppose in that I quite like their dynamic and I believe there's a romanticism to it, especially as their connection grows and only gets stronger with the passage of time, though I do maintain that it has not and should never get into the realm of physical, unless we're in a heavy AU scenario. So from that perspective, I quite like this, and I've always enjoyed Emily's insight into Alicent, especially at such a vulnerable point in her life.

To me, this makes sense with the view I've had of Alicent and Criston in episode five. I believe I've mentioned it before (can't find the post but if you search 'alicole' on my blog you should find it somewhere), but a huge part of why that scene in the godswood is such a big deal is because Criston, wrecked with the guilt and despair over the track his life has taken, is prepared to kill himself (idk about Westeros but in Catholicism at least that's a big ole sin) and then the beautiful young woman, the merciful queen who had spared him despite knowing his crime, the mother of the king's children, comes to him through the mist in this holy place and saves him. Of course Criston must see an innocence in her, a purity untouched by whatever was in Rhaenyra that had her seduce him, in his head, (patriarchy be whack), and certainly by his own sin and defilement of his Kingsguard vows and white cloak. Alicent comes to him at his lowest to save and in that moment Criston sees her as The Mother reborn, it's why that moment is so pivotal to his die-hard loyalty to her. And after Criston's spent the entire episode seeing Rhaenyra not caring about the sanctity of what he wants and how he views the world, see Laenor and Joffrey flout the laws of gods and men (I know homosexuality isn't illegal in Westeros but it is frowned upon), and have Joffrey all but confirm that the life of highborns is that of debauchery and dissolution and sacrilege, having Alicent still represent what he thought was loss is deeply important to him, as important as the human fact that he's no doubt grateful someone cared enough to find him in his darkest hour.

On Alicent's part, it equally makes sense to me that Alicent saw a kinship with Criston, she alone (other than Rhaenyra, who's busy at the moment) knows what he's done and she knows better than Rhaenyra how he must be feeling, not just because of his earlier verbalizations but also because they share a religion that they both have a deep connection to, as well as Alicent also knowing intimately how it feels to want to act out violence when your emotions grow too much, except she acts out that violence on herself when she self-harms vs Criston, who appeared to have acted out that violence by bashing Joffrey's head in. And this is Alicent, Alicent who we've seen over five episodes be kindhearted and determined to give the benefit of the doubt, Alicent who decided she was gonna spare Criston despite his crime, Alicent who gave her seat a lil pat to have him sit down next to her to be more comfortable during their talk. She can recognize their kindred spirit and still see past what he's done to understand how he feels and goes to him, and Criston reacts to that goodness and does, yeah, likely see it as an innocence he'd thought was gone from the world at that time.

I think it can be read either way; I know Emily's said that she views Alicent as having been in secret love with Criston for some time, which is part of why she views the whole situation as a betrayal, beyond just Rhaenyra lying and losing her dad and being worried about what this means for her kids. I think it can be certainly read as platonic, love doesn't strictly mean romantic love and it's entirely possible that the deep abiding love we know Criston and Alicent feel for each other is as platonic as it is chaste, Criston can still be like family just by being her friend and companion and sworn protector, and so I do hope the lesbian!Alicent truthers aren't discouraged by it (plus I will go to my grave swearing Rhaenyra and Alicent were in love as kids/teenagers before life went to ship, I stand by Rhaenicent). A bond is a bond is a bond, whether it's romantic or platonic, and there is something to the idea that Alicole cannot even exist without Rhaenicent having existed in its various forms, but that's a post for another time.

TL;DR, I agree with Emily on this and it's basically been my viewpoint on how that relationship became so fireforged ever since the episode aired (wanted to write a fic about it after the ep and then got lazy), but it can definitely be read as important but platonic if that's your jam. I still ship it tho.

[wellgreathereiam]

You know when a cis person imagines you to be cis too, so they specifically imagine your body looking cis or they imagine you having had a cisgender past and in that context they know how to relate to you effortlessly, but when they learn you are trans, and they act like they don't know you at all, like trying to be so open-minded that they over correct into acting like they can't possibly expect me to relate to or meet the expectations they have for a cis man, when in fact before they knew me as trans, they knew ME because my self image and their mental image of me were very much the same, but when they learn just one thing more, suddenly they know nothing.

Like the worst part of being outted for me is suddenly being very very alone and unrecognizable in the eyes of someone you considered yourself as close to, someone you were really making a connection with, someone lighting up to tell you something and then shutting down when they remember you're trans so they stop talking to you as much bc it's confusing them and hurting you and they cut their feelings out of how they talk to you and now suddenly someone who used to be warm and funny with you is just going through the motions of what they do with you, they're hollow, blank, distant, sure he fills a role in my life before but that's all he is to me, that role, we're not close, I-dont-know-him, he's-nobody-to-me. And it's like what if they're right about me?! Maybe my life is unrelatable and worthless and one huge awkward silence in a conversation and my body is disgusting and disappointing and untouchable, undesirable. It's easy to believe that! To believe they're right when that's who I spend my time around.

But I'm not!!!! They didn't treat me that way before they knew! I'm not the problem in this relationship!! I am worth knowing, nothing about how I'm living justified them separating me from them... In fact I think they're embarrassed of themselves when they talk to me. Like the idea that they could be just like me bothers them. That they could imagine themself in my life bothers them. That they could as easily grown up just like me. I think that disturbs them. Like I would be easier to understand and talk to if they could just comfort themselves in the knowledge that my life and perspective is completely foreign to them, and therefore could never happen to them, then they'd never have to worry about being transgender themself.

[chxrryrose]

extra long mental health rant so trigger warning

i get so fucking resentful and cynical on mental health awareness week i fucking hate it. the same ‘safe’ conversations happen every year, the same minimal phrases thrown round by people who don’t give a shit about mental health/illness but just want to be all ‘wow look at me im a nice human.’ don’t get me wrong i think the week and the conversations that are being had around mental health, though very basic and generalised imo, are still important and hopefully if we keep having them they will become just a normal part of society.

but it literally covers the tiniest portion of mental health, what about the other huge chunk of it that remains untouched? different mental illnesses, suicidal ideation and suicide itself, personality disorders that are demonised in media, barriers to accessing help, social and economic issues that result in poor mental healh, all the symptoms of mental illness that aren’t ‘pretty’ or ‘socially acceptable’ like lack of hygiene, i could go on and on. literally a huge portion of mental health goes untouched because people are afraid of it. it’s deemed ‘too much.’ it’s ‘too ugly.’ ‘too complex.’ you’re deemed a danger to society if you have a personality disorder or experience psychosis because the only knowledge they have of it is in the movies where you are criminals and villains. you’re deemed lazy and disgusting if you don’t brush your teeth or have a shower in a week because they don’t want to understand how hard the basic things in life are when living with mental illness. you’re deemed selfish, attention seeking or a liar if you express suicidal thoughts because how could you not think about everyone else around you and you smiled yesterday so you couldn’t possibly want to die.

these beliefs are so widely spread and held so deeply in society that they are everywhere and trust me when you’re experiencing it you notice it. in your own house, school, workplace, doctors. everywhere you’re supposed to go for help and everyone you’re meant to rely on and talk to. it’s not necessarily all their fault, they can’t help the society they were raised in and what they were taught from a young age. but they don’t want to change. because staying in their ignorance is comfortable and these conversations - the changes that need to be made in society - are not. so we stay having the same conversation year in year out never moving forward. and it’s enraging. if you think just talking about these things is uncomfortable, try living with it.

i can’t help but be angry and resentful this week. because almost 5 years ago i did exactly what i was told to do when i started having panic attacks. i reached out. i told my parents and i went to the doctors. numerous times because i knew it wasn’t normal and i needed help figuring out how to cope. that doctor put me off talking to doctors about it for years. i got told i was just a teenager and this was what happened, that it wasn’t a big deal and i was the problem by not being able to cope. the help we could try and access outside of the doctors was either full of false promises (cheers sixth form) or just not enough (waitlist for six months just for six therapy sessions and idk if you know but private therapy is spenny.) my parents bless them have got better with their understanding but there’s still things they just don’t understand and besides they can only do so much. so i was left to rot. for almost five years. convinced that it’s just my fault that i can’t deal with it. years of my life have been lost due to mental illness. it’s spiralled from just being a few panic attacks to mental illness consuming my every waking moment. not a single area of my life has not been destroyed by this. my life has spun so far out of my control i don’t even know where to begin to get it back. i don’t even know if it’s possible. im trying.

so yeah the same old ‘be kind speak to someone if you’re struggling xoxo’ conversation makes me a little angry.

[vapemaster42069]

I feel like everyone on the hc server has a distinctly different style but like. in art style, not just design. Cue ramble: hermits based on vibes, from a film nerd:

Mumbo Jumbo as a Tim Burton character: this partially comes from the fact that ccMumbo’s a filmmaker, and I get the impression from the film channel that he’s an aspiring auteur. (Motifs would be things like a little blur around the edges of frames, softer lighting, whip pans and dynamic rather than static shots, contrasting montage-style editing). [this man also prefers a 14-30 lens. why] His mc character gives me the vibe that he would be one of the Beetlejuice characters for some reason. He also has Nightmare Before Christmas vibes, but that doesn’t really count bc Tim Burton didn’t work a lot on the film lol. Alternatively. Drama. Over-the-to music and sound-effects. Slap-sticky, campy, horror. Cabin in the woods, car breaks down, all the troupes at once

Grian as an establishing shot. Does this make sense? No. Yes. Also no. Sepia-tinted left pan over distant landscape, deep focus, somewhere in the desert with distant buildings (think like the beginning of Dune). Soft-to-dialogue-only foley, liek a lot of Tarentino foley in those dialogue scenes where the background noise isn’t foleyed in, it’s just. not there

Zedaph: Life of Brian vibes. rich, over saturated color correcting with emphasis on vibrant, almost nuclear-looking greens. shallow focus of a full-body wide-aspect shot of a pidgeon, staring directly into the camera in the middle of a park. Zoom out. The pidgeon is in the last remaining untouched section of the town, which is desolate. The pidgeon eats some bread. It’s eyes widen in realization. Christopher Nolan walks out to the pidgeon, “actually, I own the company.” The camera shakes. Everyone’s wives spontaneously drop dead.

Doc: fade in transitions, long montages of contrasting activity ( think M), slight blue tint, medium-close-ups and low music. Big, orange-corrected explosions, ECU of his goggles and the reflection of the fire. He grins. Lots of static, deep-focus shots to emphasize how, small as he is in a huge world, the impact he’s making is remarkable.

Iskall: government psa vibe. idk why. Go watch the psa on the mystery flesh out national park. Like that.

Etho: utilizes a lot of silence, so that any noise made is significant and builds suspense. Shallow focus, backlighting, blue tint, big cities, shots of the traffic lights in deep focus so they’re blurred, rain, subtle cues. Wide shots. Introspective. The main character realizes he’s (inset realization, like not real/not the main character/losing his mind/etc). Ends quietly, with a realization that something has changed but a calm acceptance of it rather than a fight against it. Think, Emily Dickinson’s poems on death, where, rather than death being a terrifying, disgusting creature or prospect, it’s an old friend she will one day sit and have tea with. The inevitability is comforting. We watch, knowing that it’ll end poorly, but not panicking about it. It’s comforting, knowing how things will go.

Zedaph again fuck you: dry cuts, documentary-style editing, think awkward humor and voice-over like the Office, but actually funny bc it’s not the Office

[masschase]

shaunviola for the ask meme :]

Question ask meme (feel free to send more, I like this format)

YAY SHAUNVI!

When I started shipping it if I did:

Directly from tumblr! I think the first time would have been in a piece by iilovebeam though I think I saw other people's art of them too. I was just like OOH! Like I'd not really thought about it but the moment I did, I saw an interesting dynamic there.

My thoughts:

I mean I adore them. I make no secret of the fact I can sometimes end up a little bored once couples are together and there's no friction and so on. With Shaunvi there's a lot to play with. I think it was the first kind of secondary ship I decided to add to my fanfic, though I believe it wasn't the first to appear as I wrote everything so out of order.

What makes me happy about them:

They start from this place of a lot of tension established in canon, and I just love the idea of Viola having this attraction to Shaundi right off the bat but her being like... untouchable? Unavailable? Like she almost starts off a goal; a grown-up version of the more unusual girl trying to win the popular girl over as a friend, but it becomes more than that as she falls hard for her. From Shaundi's perspective there is this huge barrier though, she can't even allow herself to think about it because Viola is involved in Johnny's death. That barrier breaks in my hc when Shaundi finds out Johnny is actually alive, because that really was her sticking point above all else. From then on they start a rather intense relationship. I was going to say short but it's about a year long so short is pretty subjective. They're a bit on again off again after that; they fizzle out romantically but they remain friends and they also maintain this spark sexually.

What makes me sad about them:

Because my universe is canon obviously it's never going to work out because Viola dies 🥲 I obviously had that in mind when I decided not to have their relationship cover the whole 2016-2020 period because I think Shaundi would very much struggle to recover from that in a way my other characters who lose people have strong defences against. It also just didn't fit what I wanted for them, I wanted them intense and passionate and I think that either settles into something else or it ends.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me:

I mean I haven't actually read any fanfic that features them I don't think, I included them briefly in mine but didn't tag them as a pairing bc that would annoy me if they were tagged but not a main pairing and only in it for five seconds. Actually I wish I'd woven them into my own story in a more interesting way, but I was so far in when I came across the pairing. It kind of works though because we see Shaundi's disdain adapt quite suddenly after finding out about Johnny. I guess I wouldn't like to see anything too cheesy or boring for them? Nothing that's like love at first sight, instantly getting along when Viola joins because while canon devation is fine it would also remove a lot of what I like about them. I would accept a well written happy ever after for them! But they need some tension in the lead up. Obviously hc them however you want, this is just about what I'd personally enjoy reading! 😊

Things I look for in fanfic:

Honestly any interesting portrayal of the relationship would draw me in. I'm not super picky. I've not read fic of them but every angle I've seen for them on tumblr I've absolutely loved. Pining, angst, awkwardness, well written smut; a lot of standard things I like would work.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: 

So for main universe, Shasha (Shaundi x Asha) is something many of you know I have an interest in. I think they would have an interesting dynamic but plotting out an actual storyline for them is quite different. These things come with time for me though they just pop into my head at random times. If I don't find a route for them romantically I'd love to see them living together in a QPR type situation! I'm also a little... just a little curious about Shaundi x Kinzie. That would be more AU though, as would Shaundi x Casey. There are quite a few I can see for Shaundi.

As for Viola, main universe she's dead so I'm going to just go cracky and say Violin? Yeah I feel like some people are going to think "oh, well, you're the self-appointed ship name guy so you would", and... they have a point. 😆 It's really quite hypothetical as I don't really make anything with the afterlife, but if I did, there would have to be a heaven x hell ship. I think they'd kind of click. AU where she lives though? I'd say most likely an OC tbh. If Casey's the Boss it doesn't really fit for more than a fling type thing, but the idea of Viola x Boss really appeals to me for a more fitting Boss, because they gave her a pretty big chance in SR3 and I'd like to know what would come from that. Imagine the early days and them just being the one who's on her side, y'know? 🥲

My happily ever after for them:

So I guess in terms of what fits my mostly canon+ universe, I did have a possibility of Viola being in the pods after all due to a mix-up, very much a "here's how Shaunviola can still win" thing tbh. They could potentially be together on Ragnarok. But I guess I don't really see that theory as an actual part of my canon nowadays, and again, idk if I have a story for them there yet. If I do I'll likely share it 😊

Who is the big spoon/little spoon:

I guess I see Shaundi as the big spoon most of the time. She's the more physical of the two but it's more than that. I just think Viola has this insecurity about whether Shaundi really cares for her and always will. When Shaundi holds her it just reinforces that this is all willing and that she loves her.

What is their favorite non-sexual activity:

So in my hc they both like to dance, that's a pretty straightforward one. I can see them going out while in the "off" phase of on/off and winding up slow dancing 🥲 I think they prefer nights out over nights in but maybe they would enjoy cooking together with a bottle of wine or two. I also have an image of them cycling out of town and looking down at everything from high places. I feel like it's easier for these two to find what they really cherish about each other when there's no distractions, just peace and quiet.