#like the difference between I think and I believe

[requiemforthepoets]

this is me trying 𖦹 OP81

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: growing up, the only thing you know is that you need to be strong, provide, and take care of your sister. but being with oscar, it was different, he made you feel things—that it’s okay to not be fine, vulnerable, and to be taken care of.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have this fic finished the other day but i was debating on whether to post it or not, but here we are. it’s been a while too since i last wrote for oscar, and this is like a comfort (?) fic idk lol. also, can i just say that LANDO ON POLE FOR THE SG GP!!! 😭🧡 ok, i hope you guys will have fun reading this one. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, eldest daughter syndrome, no use of y/n, cursing, unnamed sister, named friend, and parents death

You were sitting in the living room, surrounded by case files and legal books, trying your best to prepare for the court trial that you’ll be doing soon, but your mind was elsewhere. You can't focus on the work that you’re working on in front of you, no matter how hard you try. Your phone buzzed, and you almost didn’t answer, thinking it’s just another work call, but when you saw Blaire, your friend’s name, flash on the screen you quickly picked up, expecting a casual chat.

“Hey, Blaire, how are you?” You greeted her, trying to mask your exhaustion.

Her voice on the other end was hesitant, not the usual warm tone that you’re used to. “Hey…I really hate to bring this up, but I was wondering when you would be able to repay the five thousand dollars?”

Your stomach dropped. “Repay?” You repeated, utterly confused. “What do you mean five thousand dollars?”

The conversation between you and Blaire unraveled quickly. She explained how she had lent the money to your sister out of need, thinking it was for you or with your approval. Rage bubbled in your chest, your pulse quickened, at this point all you can see is red. You thanked her hastily, barely able to end the call before fury overtook you. Without thinking, you dialed your sister’s number, the beeps echoing in your ear like a countdown to an explosion.

“Hello?” Her voice was casual, completely unaware of the storm coming her way.

“What the actual fuck did you do?!” You yelled, not caring if it was late at night. “You borrowed five fucking thousand dollars from Blaire without asking me!? How could you?!”

There was a pause, a brief moment where you could almost feel her shrug through the phone. “Oh my god, can you relax? It’s not like you can't afford it. It’s not that big of a deal, you can just easily pay for it with how big you’re making, it’s barely a scratch on your bank account!” You couldn’t believe what you were actually hearing.

“Not a big deal? Did you spend the money already? Do you have any fucking idea how humiliating it is for me that you did this without even consulting me? You think just because I make good money, I’ll fix every mess you create?” You were seething.

“Well, yeah,” she responded with a laugh, clearly not grasping the gravity of the situation. “You’re my older sister. Isn’t it your job to take care of me, right?”

Your grip on your phone tightened. “I’ve been taking care of you your whole life! I’m working myself to the bone just to make sure you have everything you need, sending you to that fancy school that you’ve always wanted so you can have a better future, and this is how you repay me? By lying and stealing?”

The silence on the other end of the line felt heavy, but your anger has not subsided. She mumbled something that sounded like a half assed apology, but it was already too late for that. You immediately hung up and slammed the phone down on the table, heart racing, pulse pounding in your ears. Anger still swirling inside you like a storm, the words of your sister still echoing in your mind. You can just easily pay for it with how big you’re making. Her carelessness, lack of respect—it hit harder than anything you had experienced before. It wasn’t about the money, you could handle the five thousand dollars easily, but the way she completely dismissed your hard work, as if it was nothing, as if your sacrifice and years of struggle meant nothing—that was what burned deep. It hurts like fucking hell.

You sat down there on the couch, trying to calm yourself down, tears started to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back. You didn’t cry. You cannot cry. You have always been strong your whole life—the provider, carer, and protector. That’s who you were. No one had ever taken care of you, not since your parents passed away when you were fifteen and your sister is only ten. It has always been you, alone, against the world, and now, it felt like even your sister was against you.

You didn’t hear Oscar enter the living room until his voice, soft but firm, broke through the silence. “Hey, I heard you from our room. Are you okay?”

You swallowed hard, your body automatically stiffening instinctively and continued browsing through your documents like nothing happened.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry,” you lied, though the quiver in your voice betrayed you.

Oscar walked over and sat down beside you on the couch, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. “You don’t always have to be fine,” he said quietly. “Tell me, what happened?”

You exhaled sharply, your hands trembling as you ran them through your hair. “It’s my sister,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady. “She borrowed money from Blaire. Five thousand dollars. Without even telling me. Now, she’s acting like it’s my job to fix it.”

“Five thousand? That’s a lot.” Oscar frowned, his brows knitting in concern.

“I know,” you said, “she doesn’t even care. She just assumes I’ll take care of it, like I always do every time she gets into stupid situations. She thinks just because I earn good money, I’m supposed to fix everything.” Your voice cracked, and before you could stop it, the tears you had been holding back for so long finally broke free. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Oscar. I’m always the one fixing things, I’m always the one who has to be strong.”

Oscar didn’t say anything for a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes filled with understanding. Then, without a word, he pulled you into his arms. You tensed at first, still not used to being vulnerable, but Oscar’s embrace was warm, grounding. Slowly, your body relaxed into his, and the weight of the world seemed to lift just a little as you rested your head against his chest.

“It’s not fair,” you whispered to him. “I’ve always had to be the strong one. I’m tired, Oscar. I’m so fucking tired. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

His hand gently stroked your back, his voice soft and reassuring. “I know. It’s okay to be tired. You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your eyes searching his face, “I just don’t know how to let anyone help me,” you admitted, voice barely audible. “I’ve been doing this for so long, I don’t know how to not be the one in control.”

“I get that. But you don’t have to do it all alone anymore. I’m here. Let me be strong for you, too.” Oscar smiled gently, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The idea of letting someone else carry even a fraction of the weight feels completely foreign to you. But as you looked at Oscar, his eyes full of sincerity, something inside you shifted. Maybe, it’s time you let it all fall down, you didn’t have to carry everything on your shoulders all the time.

“What am I supposed to do about her?” You asked, your voice small but steady now.

Oscar sighed softly, thinking for a moment. “You have all the right to be angry and upset. Your feelings are valid,” he said. “She needs to learn that actions have consequences. But at the same time, she’s your sister. She’s young, and sometimes young people tend to make mistakes. You’ve been doing everything for so long that she probably hasn’t learned how to take responsibility for herself yet.”

You nodded, wiping your eyes. “Yeah, maybe. But I can’t just let her think she can keep doing this.”

“No,” he agreed. “But you also don’t have to do this alone. We can figure it out together.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t alone. Maybe you didn’t always have to be the strong one, the provider, the protector. With Oscar by your side, you could learn how to let someone else carry the weight with you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning into him once more. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Oscar smiled, pressing a soft tender kiss to your forehead. “You’ll never have to find out, I’m not going anywhere, my love.”

The next morning, you stared at the screen of your laptop, fingers moving quickly over the keys as you finished drafting the contract. The legal jargon was familiar, comforting even, but the fact that you had to use it against your own sister left a bitter taste in your mouth. The contract was firm, direct, and laid out the consequences clearly: five thousand dollars, to be repaid in installments, with interest and penalties if the deadline is missed. You hated doing it—your heart never felt so heavy—but you knew it was necessary. You had been too lenient for far too long, if she didn’t learn this now, she might never understand the true value of money and the responsibility that came with it. It was time for her to learn the hard truths you had known your entire life.

Oscar was sitting across the table, sipping his coffee, watching you in silence. “You’ve finished it?” He asked gently. You had told him last night that you need to straighten everything out, and told him your plan, in which he quickly supported you.

You nodded, eyes scanning the contract one last time before saving it. “Yeah. She’s not going to like it, but this has to be done.” You sighed, “I’ve been too lenient, too forgiving. I can’t keep cleaning up after her messes.”

“You’re doing the right thing.” He said as he reached over, placing his hand over yours. “It’s tough, but you’re teaching her a lesson she won’t forget.”

“I hope so,” you sighed, glancing out the window, the weight of responsibility pressing down on you once more. “I’ve never been one to ask for anything back, but she needs to learn that she can’t just treat me like this. I want her to be successful, but she can’t rely on me forever.”

Later that day, you booked a flight for her to Monaco, and notified her about the flight schedule. She was studying in Switzerland, and it would be a four hour flight from Switzerland to Monaco. It was time to have this conversation face-to-face. You couldn’t keep allowing her to avoid responsibility just because you were miles apart. This is a conversation that is long overdue.

A couple of days later, she arrived at your and Oscar’s shared apartment. She seemed different—more subdued, perhaps. You could tell the weight of your anger still lingered in her mind. She greeted you cautiously, her eyes flickering to Oscar, who stood nearby, his presence calm but protective.

“Sit down,” you said, pointing to the couch.

She looked at you, clearly trying to gauge your mood, but she did as she was told. You sat across from her, with Oscar by your side, and the freshly printed contract lying on the table between you. The tension in the living room was thick.

“I had already settled your debt with Blaire,” you began, your voice calm but firm. “But this conversation is not just about the money. It’s about respect, about responsibility.”

“I said I was sorry.” She crossed her arms, trying to play it cool.

“Sorry doesn’t fix this,” you snapped, your patience was already running thin, barely hanging on by a thread. “I have been providing for you because I want nothing but the best for you. But what you did was careless, and you disrespected everything I’ve done for you. You didn’t even ask me before borrowing that money, and then you just blatantly assumed I would handle it. You do this every time to me, you always get me into awkward and humiliating situations.”

She bit her lip, her attitude wavering. “I know, but you make so much—”

“That’s not the point!” You cut her off, about to lose your cool but Oscar had managed to calm you down by softly caressing your back. “Yes, I make good amount of money, but that money just doesn’t magically appear. I have worked hard, harder than you can imagine, to get to where I am. Do you want to know what’s worse? What’s worse is that you’re not even thinking about how hard it is to earn that money, how I burn myself off everyday. So I’m making you earn it back.” You slid the contract towards her.

“What’s this?” She looked down at it, then back at you, looking all confused.

“It’s an agreement,” you said. “I’ve decided to give you the five thousand dollars. Consider what you bought from that money as a gift, because I know you’ve been doing well in school, and it’s been a while since I’ve given you anything. But this will never happen again. You owe me that money, and you're going to pay it back. Every cent of it, with interest.” Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to protest, but you cut her off before she could even speak.

“This is not negotiable. I’m still going to support you, I’m still going to pay for your tuition, but you need to learn how hard it is to earn this kind of money. You’re going to work for it, and I'll expect proof—payslips, records—everything. If you miss a payment, there will be penalties added, and if you refuse or try to make a fool out of me, I’m not afraid to take legal action.”

“You’d sue me? Your own sister?” She stared at you in disbelief.

“Yes, I would,” you said coldly. “I don’t want to, but you’ve left me with no choice. You are already eighteen and will turn nineteen in two months, you are already capable of knowing what’s right and wrong. You need to understand that I’m not going to bail you out every time you mess up, this is your responsibility now.”

For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. Her face was a mix of shock and anger, but you could tell the gravity of the situation was already starting to sink in.

“I’m not trying to be harsh,” you said softly, leaning forward. “But I’ve been in your shoes, and I know firsthand how hard life can be. I have shielded you from that, and maybe that was my mistake. But if you’re going to succeed in this world, you need to understand that nothing is free, nothing in life is free. Everything comes with a cost.”

Oscar then leaned forward, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “Look, we’re not doing this to hurt you,” he added, tone gentle but firm. “But this is a wake-up call. You need to understand how your sister has worked so hard, and how important it is that you start contributing. No one’s saying you have to do it alone, but you have to start doing something.”

Your sister’s eyes shifted between the two of you, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of guilt in her expression. She glanced back down at the contract, and you handed her a pen.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’ll do it. I’ll pay you back.” Her attitude and defiance slowly faded from her face.

“Good.” You nodded, “then sign it.”

She hesitated for only a moment before scribbling her signature across the bottom of the contract. You felt a strange mixture of relief and sadness, knowing you had to be this tough, but also hoping it would be the turning point she needed.

“You can stay with us while you’re in Monaco,” you told her, “but I expect you to find a job as soon as possible. If you fail to keep up with your end of the deal, there will be consequences. Understood?”

“Understood.” She nodded, though her expression was still a mix of resentment and defeat.

You exhaled, feeling a small sense of relief wash over you. This wasn’t easy, and you hated having to be this strict with her, but it had to be done. Oscar wrapped his arm around you, his touch grounding as soon as you watched your sister head towards the guest room.

“You did the right thing,” he said quietly.

“I hope so,” you whispered, leaning into him. “I just want her to grow up.”

“Don’t worry, she will.” Oscar assured you, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. “With you as her sister, she doesn’t have much of a choice,”

Later that evening, the apartment finally fell quiet, dinner was definitely awkward and quiet, but with your sister already tucked away in the guest room, the weight of everything you had said and done began to settle in. You were sitting at the edge of the bed, heart heavy and mind replaying what had happened earlier over and over. The way your sister had looked at you—hurt and angry—it cut deeper that you were willing to admit.

You had always been strong, but this strength had come with a cost. Now, sitting in the stillness of the night, the reality of your actions hit you like a tidal wave. It wasn’t just the contract or the money, it was the fear—the fear that in trying to teach her a lesson, you might have pushed her too far. That in being the disciplinarian, you had damaged something that might never fully recover or heal.

Oscar entered the room quietly, sensing the shift in your mood. He sat beside you, his presence had always been comforting, but it wasn’t enough to stop the flood of emotions you had been holding back.

“Was I too harsh, Osc?” You whispered, voice barely audible.

He frowned slightly, tilting his head to look at you. “No, you weren’t. She needed to hear all of it.”

“I know,” you replied, voice trembling. “But what if I lose her because of this? What if she hates me for it?”

You felt your tears welling up again, but this time you couldn’t stop them anymore. They spilled down your cheeks, unchecked, as you finally let go of the tension and frustration you had been carrying.

“I’m not being harsh to punish her, I just want her to understand how hard life is, how much I’ve sacrificed. But what if all she sees is me being cruel?”

Oscar pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you as you broke down. You rested your head on his chest, sobs coming in waves, guilt and fear crashing over you. You had always been strong for so long—too long—and now, it felt like everything was unraveling.

“She’s my baby sister,” you choked out between sobs. “I don’t want to lose her. But I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want her to think I’m just some heartless person who only cares about money.”

Oscad held you tighter, his voice calm and steady as he spoke. “She won’t hate you. Not forever. She’s upset now, sure. But she’s young, and right now, she probably doesn’t understand why you’re doing this. But she will, trust me. One day, she’ll look back at it and realize that you did this because you love her.”

You shook your head, your chest tightening with the weight of your emotions. “I feel like I’m always the one who has to be the bad guy. I never get to be the one who’s just there for her, to support her without judgment.”

Oscar stroked your hair gently, his voice soothing. “You’ve done more for her than anyone else ever could. You’ve given her everything. You’re not the bad guy, you’re her protector, even when it means being tough on her. Yeah, maybe this will cause a rift for now, but it won’t last. She’ll come around, she’ll see that you’re doing this because you care.”

You pulled away slightly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “What if she doesn’t?”

“She will,” Oscar said firmly. “But even if it takes time, you can’t keep beating yourself up for doing what’s right. You’re teaching her a lesson that no one else will. You’re giving her the tools to grow up, to be responsible. Sometimes, that means being tough. That’s tough love.”

You nodded, but the guilt still gnawed at you. “I just wish I didn’t have to be this person all the time. The one who fixes things, who keeps everyone in line.”

“I know. But you’re not doing this alone anymore, okay? I’m here. Whenever it feels like it’s too much, rest on me. You can always rest on me.”

You leaned into him again, his warmth easing the ache that you’re feeling inside of you. “I just hope she understands someday,” you whispered.

“She will,” Oscar said softly, kissing the top of your head. “And until then, you’ve done what you needed to do. You’ve set her on the right path, and that’s what matters.”

As the tears slowly subsided, you felt a flicker of hope, knowing that even though this was hard, it was necessary. Even if your sister doesn't see it now, you could only hope that one day, she would understand that everything you did was out of love.

The weight on your shoulders became a little lighter, knowing that Oscar was right. Even if it took time, even if there were still battles to fight, you knew you weren’t facing them alone anymore, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to breathe. You had done what needed to be done. Now it was up to your sister to follow through.

[kingkat12]

art on art (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, oral sex (female receiving), drug mentions, nasty fluff tihi

summary: why hasn't Eric reached out after leaving rehab yet, and how long does it take for marker ink to fade?

word count: 5,272 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is part 3 of my Eric Draven fanfic draw you! thanks again for the overwhelming support of this series, and enjoy!!<333

(not my gif!! if it's yours, pls reach out and i will tag u<3)

Some broken part of me never expected to see Eric again. I knew that the previous men in my life would leave the second they got what they wanted out of me, so why should I hope for this one to be different?

I had been out of rehab for exactly two weeks now, and I knew this meant that Eric was out as well. He had my address, he had my number, and he weirdly enough also had my email address... yet I hadn't heard anything from him. Not a single thing. I wasn't quite sure why my heart was breaking at the realization I had been thrown away again-- I should be used to this.

In actuality, I knew exactly why my hopes were up.

The last time I saw Eric, had been right before I was about to leave rehab. We were standing in my room, the guards no longer watching me as I was technically excused and only there to get my stuff. I was packing everything into a big cardboard box, unable to meet Eric's green eyes as he sat on my bed-- he just looked so damn sad, I couldn't bring myself to watch. 

At the same time, I couldn't believe that he was upset about me leaving; no one had ever cared for me like that before. "Why do you look like that?" I eventually asked, stuffing his drawings into a book so that they wouldn't get ruined during the move. 

"Like what?"

"Like I'm about to shoot a puppy,"

Eric snorted, a slight smile finally forming across his lips. "Just thinking about how shit these next days are going to be without you here,"

I dared to gaze at him, watching his chest rise and fall in a long sigh. Even while doing the simplest act of sitting, Eric looked downright gorgeous. His dark hair had grown even longer during the time we had known each other, which allowed slight curls to form along his forehead. Draped in pink, tattoos peeking up from the collar of his jumper, green eyes soft with feelings-- the sight was almost enough to make my breath hitch.

"Oh, you won't notice I'm gone," I mumbled, trying to lighten the mood at the same time as I tried to be discreet about shoving my underwear down into the box. "Time will fly by, don't you worry."

Eric shifted, moving closer to the edge of the bed. He stopped me from picking up the next batch of my stuff, leading my hands into his as his rounded eyes sunk into mine. "You're saying that as though I won't miss you,"

I held my breath, unsure what to say. 

Eric noticed my hesitance, squeezing my hands; "I will miss you. Do you understand that?"

Oh, I most certainly did not understand that. Not at all. But it didn't stop my heart from swelling, beating harder than it probably ever had before. It also didn't get any better when Eric led me between his legs, letting go of my hands so that he could put his against my waist. He looked up at me through his thick, long lashes, clearly trying to make me understand the longing lingering in his body. "Will you miss me?"

There was no question in my mind that I would. I'd miss him every second of every day, as I already did. However, I wasn't sure whether it was smart to tell him this, or whether that would make him lose interest like my previous flings. But weirdly enough, something told me I could trust this guy-- or was that just his pretty face doing the talking? "I will," I said, taking his face into my hands, brushing my thumbs over his cheeks in a newfound sense of affection.

Eric's previously glossy look suddenly became a hopeful one-- he pulled me even closer, my hands going up into his hair as he buried his face against the crook of my neck. 

There was something so sincere about him, that I couldn't help but smile. Even now, as I remembered it. Was I stupid to imagine that it had all been real? That he hadn't acted like he would miss me just out of pity?

This was definitely my insecurity talking. I needed to get it all out of my head-- which is exactly why I ended up going out tonight, my friends by my side as we made our way into our usual spot at the club downtown. Being back in the darkness of this place, music blasting through my ears, brought a lot of memories back; specifically the dark ones. 

However, I wasn't drinking. I wasn't taking anything, and I wasn't planning on doing so. In the back of my mind, I kept imagining a scenario where Eric would finally reach out and find me relapsed... and that was certainly not ideal. Then he'd definitely not want to be with me.

Maybe I just needed to forget about him?

And so I began trying-- it didn't take long before I sat down next to some guy trying to tell me about his life story. I had never been this disinterested in my life, allowing him to put his arm around me as I stared up at the light-show on display across the roof, lost in thought.

I wondered where Eric was. What he was doing, who he was with, where he was. Whether he thought about me at all. It quickly hit me that being sober at a club took away all the fun, and with alcohol floating around right before my eyes, I wondered whether I should bother staying sober or not. I didn't exactly have anyone to stay clean for, as I thought I would. 

And just as I was about to ask the guy next to me whether I could have the tiniest sip of his beer, I spotted a familiar tall frame across the room. I blinked several times, straightening up in my seat as though I was a woman possessed. I was sure it was him-- I immediately knew the second I saw the tattooed poem on his back peeking through the top of his shirt.

As though I had heard a gunshot, I got up from the couch, my whole body tingling with unexpected excitement. This was an adrenaline surge unlike anything drugs could give me, and it only grew stronger as Eric seemed to be leaving. 

Panicked, I sped up into a light jog despite being in heels, making my way through the crowd on the dancefloor. It didn't take long before I caught up to him, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt.

Eric had a bewildered look about him as he frantically searched who it could be that had held him back from leaving. When his big, green eyes finally landed on me, they widened as he broke out into a look of relief. "There you are!" he exclaimed, his large hands grabbing my shoulders. "I've been looking for you all over!--"

I was sure I would've started crying if I hadn't reached for the collar of his shirt, tugging him down to my level to press my lips against his in the neediest kiss I had probably ever shared. I flung my arms around his neck as he pulled me closer, both of us letting out relieved sighs at our reunion. 

I wanted to stay like this forever, swimming in the bliss of being reunited with the man who had haunted my every waking thought. However, I couldn't let myself revel in the joy before I got the answer to my question; "You never called!" I said, my hands now at the sides of his face. "You never fucking called!"

Eric hummed, connecting our foreheads as he closed his eyes. "I did... just from a different number. You never answered, so I had to track you down all the way here,"

My thumbs stroked over his cheeks, my anger simmering down into a slow ache. The thought of Eric calling without getting a response made me feel worse than bad. "How?" was all I was able to say, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

Eric blushed a little before pulling away, and I was unsure whether the reason for my sudden dizziness was the loud music or his smile. God, he was gorgeous. "Our dealers are cousins," he said, wrapping his arms around my waist as we swayed on the dance floor. "And your guy told me I could find you here."

"I see," The loving look in Eric's eyes nearly made me melt— it was clear that he had missed me as well. But my questions kept coming to me; "Why did you get a different number? Is everything alright?"

With that, Eric's smile faltered just a little. His grip around my waist tightened as he brought one hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear in a loving gesture. "I... suppose there's a lot I have to tell you, now that I've come all this way,"

I could sense that this was serious— I had seen enough of those guilty eyes for one lifetime. "I see," I repeated, pulling him in for another kiss, reveling in the feeling of tasting him again. There was nothing I had missed more about rehab than this. "Let's talk it out somewhere else, then?"

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

It wasn't every day that I brought back men from the club— my policy was no men at my place at all, just in case I encountered a serial killer in disguise. But this thing with Eric was different; he could've moved in for all I cared. He could also proceed to burn it all down, rip me apart with his bare hands, and I'd let him.

However, the difference between Eric and the other men in my life was that I knew, deep down in my heart, that he would never hurt me; which is why I let him into my apartment.

I watched as Eric took a look around, his hands tucked into his front pockets as he whistled; "Quite the place,"

Shrugging, I made my way towards him as he towered over everything in my living room. "Sure is,"

Eric turned to me, a raised brow on display. "You're telling me you're loaded?"

I felt a bit embarrassed— I knew that once Eric found out the truth, he'd think of me just as all the other ones did. The spoiled girl who had nothing else to do but turn to drugs to get a high out of life. I couldn't help but grow nervous, unsure how to explain the truth to him; "Well... It's my parents' money,"

Eric nodded to himself, stepping towards me. "Are they around much? I didn't see them visiting you in rehab,"

The truth stung. "They don't want to look their biggest disappointment in the eye," I mumbled, my gaze falling to my feet. "But they make sure I'm still alive, I suppose. So it's not that bad."

There was a silence before I suddenly felt Eric's long, slender fingers beneath my chin, tilting me up so that I could meet his gaze. I wasn't sure what I was expecting to see, but it certainly wasn't this; compassion. "Their loss," he said, the emerald green of his eyes engulfing my being with unexpected kindness. "At least you got a great apartment out of it."

I let out a warm laugh, now keening against the palm of his hand as he placed it to my cheek. "I've missed you,"

As Eric smiled down at me, it was obvious that his heart fluttered at the sight of me. I had never thought someone would ever look at me like that. "I've missed you too," he breathed. "Thought about you during every waking moment of every day. You have no idea how glad I am that I found you."

I could barely believe this was real— didn't stuff like this only happen in movies? "If only I had known you called," I mumbled, placing my hand on top of his. "Being without you was just hell... What happened?"

Eric inhaled a sharp breath, an unintelligible emotion swimming in his eyes. "I want to be honest with you, but... I'm afraid you'll run,"

In a flash of desperation, I placed his hand against my heart. "I have nowhere else to run but to you,"

Eric's green eyes rounded out, his lips parting in confusion— was I maybe not the only one stunned by the confessions of complete and utter love tonight? "I— Fuck," 

With that, Eric's strong hands gripped my waist, pulling me towards him as our lips came together in a hungry kiss. The sheer force of it, along with the element of surprise, nearly had me stumbling a few steps back. But Eric only followed; I nearly moaned out as I felt his tongue against mine, my hands flying up into his dark locks and pulling him closer. I had missed him more than I had ever missed anything in the world, including drugs— all my swarming feelings of never-dying love had me pushing away all my needs for an answer from him regarding his phone, and I let my back hit the surface of the couch as Eric hovered above me.

"Missed you," he breathed in between kisses, a slight growl to his voice. Something told me Eric was trying to melt himself into me to make sure we would never be apart again— it only made my need for him stronger. I clung to him, my legs wrapping around his tall figure as I attempted to pull him even closer than he already was. 

Fuck, his lips were so soft. Deadly soft. The way Eric was nipping at my lower lip, occasionally sinking his teeth into it to draw out a whimper, was making a familiar knot form in my lower abdomen. I barely registered that my dress was gone before I watched him discard his shirt somewhere on the floor— now that we finally had time, I let my fingers run over his tattoos, smiling into the next kiss as I realized we would finally have that messy morning I was promised. I couldn't wait to lie in his arms, tracing every piece of art on his skin, taking it all in— this was heaven. Everything about finally being alone with Eric was heaven. 

"Missed you too," I eventually managed to moan out, feeling him grow hard against the apex of my thighs. "I don't ever want to be without you again." My breath hitched as Eric left wet kisses down jaw, neck, breasts, and stomach, knowing exactly where he was heading. I drew my hand towards my mouth, gently biting down to suppress a rather girly squeal. 

"You'll never be," Eric purred against my skin, sinking his teeth gently into my thigh to evoke a sound. "If you think we're ever going to be apart from now on, I need you to scour that pretty little brain of yours once more."

It was impossible not to smile, and I squirmed against the couch before Eric's big, strong hands grabbed my hips, holding me in place as he pressed a kiss against my clothed sex. However, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was doing this to avoid telling me what had happened in the moments we had been apart. Despite wanting to give in to the pleasure, let him tease me and keep me on the edge through the night, my mind wouldn't let me.

In the moment Eric threw my underwear to the floor, now kissing up my thighs and leaving me breathless, I propped myself up on my elbows; "Hold on," I breathed, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair in hopes of getting his attention. "Eric, wait--"

As he looked up at me through his brows, eyes wide with confusion as he paused for me, I didn't know whether I could go through with it. This moment was so damn precious, something I had been longing for ever since the moment I saw him; so why couldn't it wait? With a sigh, I laid back down. 

"You okay?" Eric asked, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle against my hipbone. "Wanna stop?"

That was definitely not it-- I let in a lazy breath, my eyelids drooping over my eyes as my body shivered at the feeling of his hot breath against my cunt. Everything about this situation was making my brain shut down. "No... I don't want to stop," My hands reached for his, and Eric let out a hum, his free hand now ghosting over my sex. "Just wondering whether you drew it or not."

"Drew what?"

"What we did in that stairwell,"

Eric's eyes sparkled with amusement as he laughed, placing a wet kiss against the inside of my thigh. "You bet I did,"

"Will you show me?"

He hummed against my skin; "Later... I'm a little busy here, as you see," Eric hooked his arms around my legs, dragging me closer to him as I yelped. I could only laugh, the realization that I had finally gotten all I had ever wanted hitting me just as I felt the warm trickle of spit running down my cunt-- my hips bucked up in surprise, my breath escaping me. I was about to prop myself up on my elbows for a second time, hoping to get a look at what the fuck he was doing, but as he ran his tongue up between my folds with a ridiculously soft touch, I could only whimper.

The memory of Eric saying he would take his time with me when we were out of rehab suddenly dawned on me-- I was in for the long run.

It didn't take long before he had me writhing beneath him, a whimpering, panting mess. With every swirl of his tongue around my clit, every time he sucked in my aching bud between his plush lips, I held back the urge to buck my hips up against him. It got increasingly hard to keep still, especially when Eric pulled away to simply breathe down on my sex, knowing exactly where he had me. 

"Fuck," I cried, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair-- I did my best not to tighten my grip, fighting the urge to use his dark locks as handles. 

I could feel Eric smiling against me, leaning down to press a soft kiss against my clit; my breath immediately hitched, bucking up against his mouth in an attempt to beg for more. His fingers dug themselves into my thighs, driving my legs further apart as he made space for his broad shoulders. I whined at the loss of friction when he tilted his head to look up at me, and a shiver ran up my spine at the look of his face, slicked with my arousal. 

A mischievous smile spread across Eric's plush, glistening lips; "Someone's impatient,"

I could feel my cheeks redden with embarrassment, lolling my head back down against the couch-- looking at him only made it worse. "Can you blame me? You're doing this on purpose," 

Eric hummed, one hand leaving my thigh to lazily rub soft circles around my clit, using my slick as a lubricant. It only made me squirm, letting out a shaky moan as my back arched slightly off the couch. Even worse, was that I started to feel a small tremble appearing in my hands. "Can't handle a little teasing?" he said, biting his lip as he watched me attempt to suppress my noises. "You keep saying you've waited for me... What happened to your patience?"

I held back the urge to simply kick him-- but that thought immediately slipped out of my mind the second Eric flattened his tongue against me, licking a stripe all the way up to my swollen clit. It was impossible to suppress the hitch of my breath, and the tug I gave his hair in response was purely instinctual. It surprised me further to hear him enjoy it; I decided to keep that observation stored for later.

I had a feeling Eric knew my mind was buzzing, that he wouldn't be able to toy with me much longer. There might've been a few giveaways that I was at my wit's end-- all of which left me feeling like an even bigger mess than I already was beneath him. "I- I can't," I whined, my words leaving me as Eric sucked me in once more. "Wait, please!--"

He hummed against me, now pressing his lips against the crease of my thigh as a chuckle built in his throat. "Fine, fine," he said, playfully sinking his teeth into my skin, his green eyes watching my every move. "I suppose I'm dragging this out... I don't know why I'm feeling nervous."

Nervous? Eric didn't look very nervous to me. "It's just me, though?" I tried, attempting to catch my breath as I laid my hand on top of his. My next words came out shakier than anticipated, especially now that he was kissing way back up my body; "You don't need to be nervous."

Eric hummed, his large, tattooed hands kneading my chest, kissing along the hem of my bra. "It's just... When you left rehab," he started, his lips pressing along my collarbones. "I realized it took me days to recover after a dream with you in it."

The rush of joy surging through my veins reminded me of a hit of amphetamine-- it was all-taking, consuming, and I wanted nothing more than to press him so closely that we'd melt together. "Eric--"

"I've drawn you over and over," he breathed, kissing up my neck with a toe-curling softness. "In every way possible. Imagined the way you'd look at me after waking up in the morning, how it would feel to kiss your pretty little face good night..." Eric's lips hovered above mine, our shared breaths hot and shaky against one another as he continued; "I want you to burn into me like warm glass, mold into one. It sounds insane, but... how else can I ensure we stay together?"

My eyes were wide, finding his, as my hands reached up to cup his face. Like this, I finally had the time to admire the tattoo above his right brow, the deep scar on his cheek, and the tattoo above it. I stroked my thumb over the ink, holding back from connecting our lips just yet; "If you think I'm ever leaving you, I need you to scour that pretty little brain of yours" I breathed, watching his pupils dilate as I bit back a smug smile. "Do I need to remind you that I'm all yours?" My fingers now ghosted over his lips, still wet with my slick, as an idea suddenly hit me. "Actually..."

Eric watched in confusion as I shifted beneath him, now reaching for the table right by the couch. There, I had left a marker which I had previously used to write a birthday card, and I took it into my hand before laying back down, looking up at the puzzled look on his face. "I'm not able to physically melt into you, but..." 

Eric's green eyes widened further, watching as I popped the cap and drew a tiny little heart on the peak of his shoulder.

I met his gaze, beaming up at him; "I can leave my mark,"

The most unexpected thing happened-- The sight of Eric welling up in tears was not something I had counted on when I let my impulses take the lead. For a second, I got genuinely worried I had overstepped all boundaries until he pinned my hand above my head and pressed a needy, passionate kiss against my lips.

I couldn't control the moan that escaped me, my hips bucking up against his, feeling his hard length grind down and brush up against my clit as our chests came together, pulling each other in as close as possible. The need I felt for Eric was undescribable, ravaging through my being-- I had never wanted anyone as bad as this. 

Mind dulled by anticipation and pleasure, I barely registered that he had managed to pry the marker from my fingers and pull it into his hand. Eric disconnected the kiss, pressing his wet lips against my cheek before propping himself up on his knees, scanning his canvas. "I'm definitely dreaming now," he whispered, mostly to himself, hovering above me as he drove the marker tip to the point where my ribs met on my chest. 

I could only smile, watching my favourite artist at work with admiration blossoming in my chest. Knowing I would be decorated with his work made me even more hot and bothered; I did my best to get a look at what he was drawing without disrupting his process. 

Eric drew a line down my chest, a few leaves scattered along it-- it dawned on me that he was drawing a rose. A beautiful, big rose, with that same scratchy style that I recognized from his previous creations. I watched him dart his tongue out, keeping it between his lips, focused; I couldn't help but find it endearing.

"Art on art," he breathed, pulling away to drink in the sight of what he had drawn on my body. Eric's green eyes found mine, his shy smile returning to his plush, glistening lips. "You're beautiful. You're so beautiful."

"So are you," I held back the urge to cry happy tears, my hands reaching out for him. "I love it, Eric. I'm scared of needles, so I won't be able to get this tattooed... Meaning you'll have to draw it over and over. Would you do that for me?"

Eric let out a choked laugh, eyes glossing over as he put the cap back on the marker, discarding it somewhere before returning to his place above me. "I'd do anything for you,"

I hadn't smiled so brightly in what felt like years. Like this, at this moment, I was sure this was it. He was it. 

Before I knew it, we were completely lost in the fiery kiss that ensued-- Eric's tongue against mine, hands lost around my waist as my fingers hooked into his dark locks, our chests heaving at one another. I was so gone, so dizzyingly aroused, that when I felt his thick cock pushing past my sopping entrance, I could only gasp. 

Eric let out a grunt, both of us moaning into the kiss at the immediate relief-- I could barely believe that this was real, that we were back as one. In a sense, this was the melting together that we had both craved so badly. 

My nails dug into his back, leaving crescent marks in their wake as I let him push further into me. Eric buried his face in the crook of my neck, letting out a breathy groan against my skin when he finally moved. His cock stroked my walls the same way it had that one evening in the stairwell, the exact feeling I had chased as I buried my fingers deep inside of me every night since-- I had forgotten how the real deal had felt. How mind-numbingly good it felt to have Eric in me.

I whimpered as I felt his cock throb upwards, immediately hitting my sweet spot, and I wrapped my legs around him, wanting nothing more than to stay like this forever. Knowing I bared his mark on my chest, knowing he had dreamed of this as well, only strengthened the electricity running all the way up to the tips of my fingers. I didn't know how I was supposed to last long at all, especially when I heard Eric moan out my name-- I shivered, pressing my lips against the heart I had drawn on his shoulder. 

I noticed a blush creep up his cheeks before he connected our lips once more, but it was hard to kiss properly when we were both in a heavy daze of pleasure-- we ended up mostly breathing against one another, Eric's green eyes watching as I let out a string of moans with every stroke of his cock. 

"You're everything," Eric rambled, nipping at my lower lip to suppress another grunt. "You're everything, you're-- Fuck!--" His hands dug into my hips, fucking me properly into the couch as he deepened his thrusts. 

My heart fluttered in my marked chest as I realized we were both looking down to watch our union-- the sight of Eric's cock pumping in and out of me, the wet sounds of our love filling the room, was almost enough to bring me over the edge. I also caught a glimpse of the petals drawn over my body, realizing I was admiring both the art and his body against mine. 

My back arched off the couch as Eric shifted, angling his thrusts upwards-- now, he was dead on pumping his cock against my sweet spot, which had me mewling out against his lips. "Eric, I-- I'm not gonna last, a-ah!--"

With glossy eyes, I watched a smirk spread across Eric's lips; "Let go if you need to," he cooed, his dark hair now kissing his forehead as he let out a laboured grunt. "We'll go again, baby-- hah, don't worry."

That was all I needed-- my heart fluttered, realizing we had all the time in the world to fuck all through the night. 

Forever, if we wanted to.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

This was nice. Stupidly nice. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this moment.

The softness of his fingers running up my bare shoulder, the kindness with which he bathed me-- I didn't even know this existed before now. I looked up at Eric, my head nuzzled against his broad, tattooed chest as we lay in post-coital bliss. I reached out to trace the heart I had marked him with, and I wondered what else I could draw on his beautiful body.

However, I knew I had to ask the question he hadn't been willing to answer yet. I had to look past how heavy his beautiful lashes looked in his drowsy state, and how badly I wanted to reach out and trace the upward slope of his nose, to ask what needed to be asked. "Eric?"

He hummed, glancing down at me. 

It was incredibly hard to take my eyes off his kiss-swollen lips. "You never told me,"

"Told you what?"

It felt as though we'd had this conversation about three times now; "You didn't tell me why you changed your number. Or why you waited to reach out. Or, better yet, why you didn't just show up here... I even gave you my address," I couldn't stop the imminent pout appearing across my lips-- I had forgotten how upset I was about this. "I waited for you. I nearly drove myself crazy thinking I'd imagined it all."

Sighing, Eric's gaze diverted to the ceiling. "I'm sorry. I will tell you everything. Just... could I have one more day?"

"What?" Something told me that his secret was a lot more damning than I initially thought-- why was he so reluctant to tell me? Did he think it would change how I felt?

"One more day," he echoed, his tattoed hand mindlessly traveling up into my hair as his eyes glossed over.  "Just give me one more day..."

I didn't know what to say, at a loss for words. Instead, I popped the cap to the marker in my hand, realizing I wouldn't be the one to deny him his one wish. Eric closed his eyes with a sigh of relief as he felt the tip of the marker against his skin once more; time was a gift I was willing to give him.

I was willing to give him absolutely anything he'd ever want-- I just hoped it wouldn't be the death of me.

(a/n: PART 1 and PART 2 linked here<33 thank you for reading!!)

[romugh]

SENSUAL UNRAVELING- NR

pairing- avenger!natasha romanoff x gp!avenger!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!gp!natasha, fleshlight use, blowie (n rcv), oral play (fingers; r rcv), slight humiliation, praiseee, i think that's it? :o nerdy'ish'!avenger!nat is my favourite i think guys

wc- 4.8k!

a/n- PART ONE [out of 2 for now; 2nd part out oct, 5th (kinktober list here)] requested! thanks for that, anon, loved writing it :p

request- hey, for nerdnatasha, i was thinking about yn gives a gift to natasha, that it was a fleshlight for when she misses her. So one day natasha was using it because she was feeling horny and yn caught her but she doesnt know, because yn was watching her and wanted to know if she could last enough time or if she would cum as fast as she does with her. and after that you could write whatever you want.

synopsis- you give natasha a gift, end up catching her trying to use it, and help her out.

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel, @esposadejoyhuerta (feel free to shoot me a dm or comment to be added to my general/specific taglist!)

It had been a rare moment of peace—a quiet night off after days of non-stop missions, a time for you and Natasha to actually relax. You found yourselves in the comfort of your shared room in the compound, with no looming threats or world-ending emergencies. Natasha was nestled on the bed, her glasses perched delicately on the bridge of her nose, engrossed in a book. The sight never failed to stir something warm in your chest. She was so different from the image the world had of her—the fearless Avenger, the Black Widow.

To everyone else, she was a force to be reckoned with, the epitome of confidence and skill. The rest of the Avengers saw her as unshakable, always maintaining that sharp edge, even in the rare moments when she let her guard down. Sure, they’d seen her be softer around you, maybe even affectionate, but never like this—never this open, never vulnerable. This side of Natasha was reserved only for you.

You crawled onto the bed beside her, watching her for a moment, unable to suppress the fond smile that tugged at your lips. “Hi, Natty,” you said, breaking the silence.

You set a small, plain box down beside her. “Got you something,” you said casually, trying to keep the amusement out of your voice.

Natasha blinked, glancing up at you and then down at the box, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What’s this?” she asked, already wary of your playful tone.

“Just a little something for when you miss me,” you said with a teasing smile, leaning back against the headboard as you watched her reach for the box.

Natasha set her book aside carefully, her fingers hesitating over the lid of the box for a second before she flipped it open. The moment her eyes landed on the fleshlight inside, her entire face turned beet red. Her hand froze mid-air, and she looked up at you in pure shock, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“I—” she spluttered, her cheeks bright red. “I... What is this?”

Her voice cracked slightly, and you had to bite back a laugh. The poor Avenger looked scandalised, staring down at the fleshlight as if it were some alien object. You knew, even at her most relaxed, Natasha always carried herself with an unbreakable facade around her teammates. They’d never seen her like this—completely disarmed, flustered, and shy. Only you ever got to witness this side of her, the part of her that wasn’t the world’s greatest spy or assassin, but just your Natty.

“Exactly what it looks like, sweet angel,” you said, grinning as you crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s for when I’m not around.”

Natasha’s mouth fell open, her eyes darting between the toy and you, completely flustered. She looked as if she were about to explode from embarrassment. Her hands fumbled with the box, and she quickly tried to push it away from her, glaring at you with wide, mortified eyes.

“You can’t just give me... this!” she squeaked, her voice rising in pitch. “It’s—it’s indecent!”

Now you couldn’t help but chuckle. The way she was trying to scold you, still holding the fleshlight awkwardly in her hands, only made her look even more adorable. She huffed, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, which had gone as red as her cheeks.

“I thought it was a pretty thoughtful gift,” you teased, your grin widening. “You know, for those moments when I’m not around to... help you out.”

Natasha’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, her brain clearly scrambling for a response. She shook her head, still holding the toy like it might burn her. “I don’t—You can’t expect me to use this!” she stammered, her voice dropping in embarrassment.

This side of Natasha—the shy, blushing woman unsure of how to handle intimacy—was something no one else could ever imagine. To the world, she was known for her strength and control, the embodiment of confidence. But with you, things were different. Your relationship was still new, though the feelings between you had been simmering beneath the surface for some time. Natasha had only recently mustered the courage to ask you out, stepping out of her comfort zone. Initially, she had tried to maintain her tough facade, but it didn’t take long for her to realise that you had already seen her softer, vulnerable side during your friendship. With you, she didn’t need to pretend. She wasn’t Black Widow, the skilled seductress; she was simply Nat, unpracticed and a little unsure when it came to intimacy for her own sake.

You leaned in, your eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, you’ll grow to love it," you murmured confidently.

She shot you a wide-eyed glare, but the effect was ruined by the way she couldn’t seem to stop blushing. “I will not!” she protested, though it came out far less convincing than she intended.

“Oh really?” You raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by her flustered state. “We’ll see about that.”

Natasha shook her head, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity, but her hands kept betraying her. She was still holding the fleshlight, inspecting it nervously as if she wasn’t sure what to do with it. “I wouldn’t even know how to...” She trailed off, cheeks practically glowing.

You softened, realising that this was still new territory for her. Natasha’s experience with her own body had always been limited, and when she had used it, it was only as a tool for her missions—nothing more. Pleasure was an entirely different concept. She had told you once, with a mixture of shyness and honesty, that she had never really thought of her body that way before meeting you.

But you were patient with her. Always.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. “That’s okay, baby. You’ll figure it out.”

Natasha swallowed hard, her breath hitching at your touch. She glanced back down at the toy, still overwhelmed by the idea. “But... I’d rather have you,” she admitted softly, her voice so innocent it made your chest tighten with affection.

You tilted her chin up gently, making her meet your gaze again. Her wide eyes were still filled with embarrassment, but there was a flicker of curiosity there too.

“And you will,” you reassured her, brushing a strand of hair away from her flushed face. “This is just for when I’m not around to take care of you.” You leaned in closer, voice dropping to a soft whisper. “Think of it as practice.”

Natasha’s blush deepened even more at that, and she fumbled with the toy again, clearly unsure of how to respond. “I... I don’t think I need this kind of practice,” she mumbled under her breath, trying once again to push the box back towards you, but you could see the way her curiosity was slowly getting the better of her.

You chuckled softly, ruffling her hair affectionately. “You say that now, but trust me—once you get used to it, you’re going to love it.”

Natasha groaned, burying her face in her hands. “I can’t believe you...”

“Believe it, Nat,” you teased, pulling her hands away from her face so you could see her flushed expression again. “I’m just a phone call away if you get stuck.”

She shot you a withering look, but there was no hiding the fact that she was fighting a smile. Her fingers lingered on the edge of the box, her eyes flicking back to the toy with a mixture of uncertainty and intrigue.

“You’re terrible,” she muttered, though there was no real bite to her words.

You grinned, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Maybe, but you’ll thank me later.”

Despite her embarrassment, there was no denying she was curious. You knew her well enough to understand that her inexperience and uncertainty just needed a little nudge—and you were more than happy to give it.

˚₊𓆩༺🕷༻𓆪₊˚

It had been a long two weeks away on a mission, and your days were consumed by a flurry of burner phones, quick, coded messages, and just a few stolen moments of communication with Natasha. Calls had been scarce—limited to one every three days due to the high-risk nature of the mission. Whenever you spoke, Natasha’s voice had been warm but slightly strained, trying to keep her usual composed tone, though you could hear the subtle edges of worry creeping in. She had missed you, even if she wouldn’t outright say it. The way her voice would catch slightly when she asked, “You’re safe, right?” gave her away every time. She wasn’t used to missing anyone—not in this way.

And truth be told, you missed her just as much. Every message she sent—brief and seemingly innocent little texts like “Just thinking of you” or “Hope everything’s going okay”—made you smile. You knew they were more than they seemed. You could almost picture her sitting in your room, wearing your shirt, her glasses perched on her nose, probably curled up on your bed or buried in a pile of paperwork, trying to distract herself from the fact that you weren’t there.

But now, after those long two weeks, the mission was done, and all you could think about was getting home. The thought of seeing Natasha again, hearing her voice without the distortion of a bad connection, touching her after what felt like forever—it had kept you grounded through every challenge and fight. You imagined how her face would light up, how she’d probably try to hide that small, relieved smile she got whenever you returned from missions safe and sound.

As the lift doors slid open, you stepped onto the shared floor of the Avengers Compound, letting out a sigh of relief. The space was quiet—eerily so—considering you expected Natasha to be in her usual spot on the couch, her legs tucked under her, probably with a book in hand. It was her routine. Whenever you returned, she’d be there waiting, pretending she wasn’t counting the minutes until your arrival. She’d look up casually, as if she hadn’t been thinking about you the entire time.

But today? Nothing.

You furrowed your brow as you dropped your bag by the door, your eyes scanning the empty space. “Nat?” you called softly, half expecting her to pop up from somewhere in the apartment, maybe having gotten caught up in something in the kitchen or the bathroom.

No answer.

Your stomach twisted slightly, a brief flicker of disappointment settling in. Maybe she was out with the team, or training in the gym. It wasn’t like her to not be here when you came back, but you tried to push the thought aside. She could have been anywhere in the compound, after all.

Faintly, though, you heard something else—a soft noise, so quiet that if the apartment wasn’t this silent, you might’ve missed it. Your curiosity piqued, and you followed the sound down the hallway towards your bedroom, heart racing in anticipation. As you approached, the noise became clearer. Ragged breathing. A few soft gasps. And then your name, whispered so delicately it made your pulse quicken.

You froze just outside the door, heat already building in your chest. Natasha’s voice was unmistakable, but it was the tone—the need in it—that sent a wave of heat coursing through you. With a mixture of excitement and pride, you realised exactly what was happening.

Slowly, you inched the door open, your eyes adjusting to the dim light of the bedroom. There, on the bed, was Natasha. Your Natasha. She was sitting up against the headboard, her shirt bunched up around her waist. Her hair was tousled, and her glasses—those adorable glasses—were still perched on her nose, slightly fogged from her body heat, smudged, and slightly askew, as if she’d tried to adjust them earlier. The fleshlight was clutched in her hand, and she was trying, desperately trying, to use it. But the sight before you was more than just arousing—it was endearing in a way only Natasha could pull off.

Her movements were awkward, hesitant, and her face was flushed with a mix of frustration and desire. You could see it in the way they were clumsy, uncoordinated—she didn’t know how to use it properly. Her brow was furrowed in frustration, and her breath came in short, needy gasps. Her hips stuttered as she awkwardly thrust into the toy, but it wasn’t enough.

Natasha bit her lip, her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to work the toy over herself. But you could see it wasn’t working. Her hips stuttered, and her breath hitched, but there was no rhythm, no real pleasure in what she was doing. You knew why. Natasha had never been good at pleasing herself. She needed you—your touch, your guidance. Without it, she was lost. 

Her whimpers filled the air, soft and needy, as she tried to imagine it was your touch, your body. But it wasn’t. The toy couldn’t replicate the warmth of your hand, the slickness of your fingers, the way you knew exactly how to take her apart.

For all her skills as an Avenger, Natasha was unpracticed in this realm. She had never had to learn how to bring herself pleasure before you entered her life. She was still learning—still new to the idea that her body was hers, that it could bring joy and intimacy instead of just completing a task. You’d been patient with her, guiding her through these moments, helping her understand that she could be vulnerable, open, even needy, and it was okay. But now, you stood in the doorway, watching, knowing that she was trying to fill that space without you. The soft gasps escaping her lips, the quiet, frustrated whimpers—she was trying, but it wasn’t working. 

The pride in your chest swelled. Natasha had never needed anyone like this before. She had been fine for years on her own, never relying on anyone emotionally, let alone for pleasure. But now? Now she was here, lost without you, and the sight of her in this state—glasses fogged up, brow furrowed in frustration as she chased a release she couldn’t quite reach—was enough to make your heart race.

You watched, your heart pounding with a mix of arousal and affection. She was so desperate, so needy, and yet she had no idea what to do without your control.

You pushed yourself off the doorframe, a small smile playing on your lips as you approached her. “You know,” you said casually, breaking the silence and causing her to freeze, “you could’ve just told me when we called two days ago.”

Natasha’s entire body jolted, and her head whipped around to face you, eyes wide with shock. The toy slipped from her grasp as her hands flew to cover herself, her face turning a deep shade of red.

“Wha—” she spluttered, clearly mortified, her voice caught somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. Her glasses had slipped down, askew, fogging up even more from the heat of the moment. “You-You’re home early!”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you took a few more steps into the room, feigning innocence. “Am I? Or am I right on time?”

Natasha groaned, burying her face in her hands, clearly embarrassed at being caught. She tried to pull the sheets up over herself, but her hands were trembling too much to do so properly.

“You didn’t have to do it all on your own, you know,” you teased, your voice soft but dripping with amusement. “I’m just a phone call away, remember? Isn’t that what I said when I gave you that thing?”

Her blush deepened, and she turned her head away, mumbling something unintelligible under her breath. But you caught the embarrassment in her eyes, the slight frustration as well, as if she’d been trying so hard and just couldn’t get herself there.

You took a step closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed, your tone softening. “You tried, huh?”

Natasha swallowed hard, still refusing to meet your gaze, her cheeks flushed. “I... I didn’t know it would be... like this,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Like what?” you asked, your voice soft now, coaxing.

She bit her lip, clearly struggling to find the right words. “It’s... different without you,” she confessed, her voice so small and unsure that it tugged at your heart. “I didn’t know it would feel so... empty.”

You felt a surge of affection for her in that moment. For the Avenger who could take down armies, outwit anyone, and yet here she was, vulnerable and flustered, struggling with something so deeply personal. No one else in the world would ever see this side of her, and that made it all the more precious to you.

“Well,” you said, reaching out to gently tilt her chin up so she could finally meet your eyes. “Good thing I’m home now, huh?”

You could see the mix of anticipation and nervousness flicker across Natasha’s face as she sat there, her body still flushed from the earlier attempt. Her breath was still shallow, and her glasses had slipped slightly down her nose, a subtle reminder of how overwhelmed she had been. You took a deep breath, the moment charged with a heady combination of tension and affection. “Close your eyes for me, Natty,” you said softly, your voice a warm caress. “I want you to just feel, okay?”

Natasha hesitated for only a moment, but the trust she had in you made her comply. Slowly, she let her eyelids flutter shut, her body relaxing ever so slightly as she surrendered herself to you.

You reached for the discarded toy, holding it up between the two of you. “So,” you began, your voice teasing but soft, “I’m going to show you how it’s done.”

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat, her eyes remaining tightly shut, just as you had asked. Though she couldn’t see the toy, you could feel the way her body reacted—still flustered, still embarrassed, but with a spark of curiosity that had driven her to try in the first place. Slowly, hesitantly, she nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Please.”

You smiled, the warmth in your expression making her heart flutter even though her eyes stayed closed. “Good girl,” you praised softly, and the words sent a shiver down her spine. Her body tensed, but not from fear—rather, from the anticipation of what was to come. You could see the way her breath quickened, the way her hands trembled slightly as you moved closer.

Gently, you guided her back against the headboard, your fingers trailing down her arm as you coaxed her to relax. “First,” you whispered, your voice low and soothing, “you have to be patient. Let yourself feel every little touch. Don’t rush.” Natasha nodded, biting her lip as she tried to focus on your words, but it was clear that she was still nervous, still unsure.

You could feel her tension, the way her muscles were wound tight from the anticipation. But you were in no rush. Slowly, deliberately, you leaned down, your lips brushing against her neck as you murmured, “Relax, baby. I’ve got you.”

Your hand slipped down to her thigh, your touch firm but gentle as you parted her legs, creating space between them. Natasha’s breath hitched, her body responding instinctively to your touch. She was still embarrassed, still blushing furiously, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into you, her body seeking comfort in your closeness.

Carefully, you positioned the fleshlight, your fingers wrapping around its base as you guided it toward her. “I’m going to go slow, okay?” you whispered, your lips brushing against her ear. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

Natasha nodded, her eyes fluttering open slightly as she braced herself for the sensation. Her breath came in soft, shaky gasps as you slowly eased the toy over her length, your movements deliberate and controlled. You could feel her body tense, her hips instinctively bucking slightly as she tried to adjust to the sensation.

“Shhh, easy,” you murmured, your hand gently pressing against her hip to steady her. “Let me do the work.”

Natasha whimpered softly, her breath hitching as you began to move the toy, your strokes slow and rhythmic. Her body trembled under your touch, and you could feel the way her muscles quivered with every gentle glide of the toy. It wasn’t long before her hands gripped the sheets, her knuckles turning white as she tried to hold back the moans that threatened to escape.

“You feel that?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you continued the slow, deliberate movements. “That’s what you’ve been missing.”

Natasha’s response was a shaky nod, her lips parted as she struggled to catch her breath. She was still so shy, so uncertain, but you could see the way her body was responding to the pleasure, the way her hips bucked ever so slightly in time with your movements. She was learning—slowly, but surely—and the sight of her in this state, so vulnerable and needy, made your heart swell with affection.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you whispered, your voice filled with praise. “Just let go. I’ve got you.”

The sound of your voice seemed to soothe her, and slowly, Natasha’s body began to relax. Her whimpers turned to soft moans, her head falling back against the headboard as she surrendered to the pleasure. You could see the way her body responded to your every touch, the way her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against her ear as you whispered, “I love seeing you like this.”

Natasha’s breath hitched at your words, and she moaned softly, her hips jerking involuntarily as the pleasure began to build. Her hands gripped the sheets tighter, her body trembling as she teetered on the edge of release.

And then, with one final, deliberate stroke, you pushed her over the edge.

Natasha’s moan was loud and unrestrained, her body arching off the bed as she came, her release crashing over her like a wave. You held her through it, your hand gentle but firm as you continued the slow, rhythmic movements, guiding her through every shudder, every tremor of pleasure.

When it was over, you discarded the toy to the side as Natasha collapsed back against the headboard, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Her glasses had slipped down her nose again, but she made no move to fix them. Instead, she lay there, completely spent, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her release.

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead as you gently wrapped your hand around her still semi-hard cock. “See?” you murmured, your voice filled with affection. “Told you you’d love it.”

Natasha let out a shaky laugh, her cheeks still flushed from the intensity of it all. “You were right,” she admitted softly, her voice hoarse with pleasure. “I guess I owe you a thank you.”

You hummed softly, stroking her with care, feeling the way her body reacted to even the gentlest touch. “Mmm, you do,” you teased, leaning down to kiss her collarbone. Natasha’s breathing hitched, her body still hyper-sensitive from the release. “But first, let me clean you up, Natty.”

Her gaze flickered down toward her softening cock, still glistening with her own release, and you saw the way her face flushed in embarrassment. You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “No need to be shy, baby. You did so well for me.”

Natasha swallowed hard, her blush deepening, but she nodded. She always got a little embarrassed after, unsure of herself. But you were never in a rush, and you wanted her to feel cared for. You kissed your way down her body, your lips ghosting over the planes of her chest, across her stomach, until you reached her cock.

The moment your lips brushed the tip, Natasha’s entire body shuddered. “Wait—” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m... still sensitive.”

“I know,” you replied softly, kissing the underside of her cock, your tongue teasing the slit just enough to make her whimper. “But I want to make sure you’re clean, okay? Just relax for me.”

Her body tensed beneath your touch, her legs trembling as she tried to hold still. You were gentle, your tongue tracing along the shaft, cleaning the lingering slickness with slow, deliberate strokes. Natasha’s fingers dug into the sheets, her breath ragged as her body tried to process the mix of overstimulation and pleasure.

“Shh, baby,” you cooed softly, your tongue flicking over her again. “You’re so good for me. You can take it.”

She moaned softly in response, her hips jerking slightly, though she did her best to stay still. You felt her cock begin to twitch in your hand, and you grinned up at her, watching her as she tried to hold back the sensations overwhelming her.

As you continued, your hand slid up, brushing her lips with your fingers. “Open,” you commanded softly, your voice gentle but firm. Natasha hesitated for only a moment before parting her lips obediently, allowing you to slide two fingers inside her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed, her tongue immediately lapping at your fingers.

“That’s it,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing as you continued to clean her shaft, making sure not a single drop of her release was left behind. Your tongue moved with purpose, licking and slurping her clean, all while your gaze stayed fixed on her. The sight of her lips wrapped around your fingers made your heart race. “Such a good girl,” you whispered, the words slipping out like a soft caress, watching the way she responded to every touch, the way your warm breath contrasted her cold, damp cock.

Her moans were muffled by your fingers, but you could feel the vibrations as she sucked on them, her lips quivering with each gentle motion. You could see the way she was still sensitive, overstimulated but completely surrendering to you. Slowly, you added a third finger, watching the way her mouth stretched to accommodate them. You pressed against her tongue, feeling her throat constricting as she tried to adjust. Natasha whimpered around your fingers, her eyes squeezed shut, but she didn’t stop.

“Good job, baby, look at you take all three for me,” you whispered, your voice soothing as your fingers kept pressing gently against her tongue. “You can do it, baby. I know you can.”

Her breath came in shallow gasps, her body quivering, but she nodded, determined to please you. She took your fingers deeper, her lips closing around them fully, and you could see the way she was giving herself over to you completely.

“Good girl,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over her cheek as she sucked on your fingers, her moans soft and needy. “You look so beautiful like this.”

Natasha moaned again, her body trembling beneath you, her cock twitching in your hand as you slowly stroked it, relishing the way she reacted to your touch. Having cleaned her thoroughly, you now took her completely in your mouth, intent on keeping her pristine and ready for what was to come. You could feel her release building, evident in the way her hips jerked in small, involuntary movements, and you knew she was close. Your careful, deliberate movements brought her right back to the edge, and you were determined to swallow every drop.

You kept her in place, your fingers pressing deep into her mouth, feeling the slight gag and the way her throat kept constricting around you. Her entire body quivered as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, her release pouring into your mouth as you took everything, not letting a single drop escape.

When she finally came down, her body slumping back into the bed, utterly spent, you withdrew your fingers gently, wiping away the tears that had gathered in the corners of her eyes. Her breathing was ragged, her cheeks flushed, and her glasses, now completely fogged, sat crooked on her nose.

“There,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “All clean.” You smiled, leaning in to kiss her softly on the lips. “Perfect,” you whispered, your voice filled with warmth and affection.

Natasha blinked up at you, her eyes heavy with exhaustion but also something else—a deep sense of trust and surrender. “You didn’t have to,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but you heard the emotion behind it.

“I wanted to,” you replied, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. “Besides, you’re mine to take care of.”

She smiled, her eyes shining with affection as she sank deeper into the bed, her body trembling with the aftershocks. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice soft and content.

You kissed her again, slow and tender, as she relaxed fully into you, the taste of herself lingering on your lips and in your mouth grounding her in the moment. “No need to thank me,” you murmured against her soft lips. “You deserve all of this.”

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hello! Someone genuinely trying to understand and perhaps unlearn some reactionary tendencies. With the response to that anon about "not asking if you're a pro or anti", the response about "imagine if they put this much effort into protecting real kids" definitely got me thinking. So... Is an adult shipping children and finding that hot NEVER a red flag? Or is it case by case on seeing how that person handles the distinction between fiction and reality in other things? And bringing the issue of real kids into it, if a real kid who has been abused sees someone shipping kids and finds that a red flag in that person, that... No, no I juicy answered my own question on that one. Block them and cultivate your own experience.

hi there anon, and congrats on trying to unlearn some things! and great job catching yourself at the end there, that's exactly correct.

I will start by saying this right out of the gate: fundamentally, I do not really give a shit about what made up scenarios about fictional characters people are jorking it to in private. I am, first and foremost, interested in how they are interacting with actual, real people.

"but Makenzie are you saying people who look at sexually explicit images of real human kids should be allowed near children?" no I'm not. please note that I was specifically talking about people engaging with fictional characters who are, you know, not real and do not have feelings and therefore cannot actually be hurt, traumatized, abused, etc, in any way that actually matters. I want to be so clear about this: you can genuinely think whatever vile things you want about fictional characters. you can enjoy any problematic shit you want with little guys who don't actually exist.

like, here's an example I use a lot: I'm kind of a huge Batman fan. don't know if you could tell that or not, I'm pretty subtle about it. if you spend any time in the Batman mythos, you know that this is a story where you just kind of have to take for granted that our hero is a billionaire using his vast wealth to dispatch vigilante justice with military grade weaponry and a small army of child soldiers and cop friends to help him put people in prison. these are moral quandaries that are discussed and acknowledged within the story, but fundamentally the universe is always going to involve billionaire vigilantism and child soldiers and the so-called carceral justice system. that's just the price of admission if you're gonna read Batman.

and like. I spend a lot of time in that world. I love Batman, I love his child soldiers. he's my little blorbo or whatever. but like, at no point have I said "yeah, fuck it, preteens should be learning martial arts to fight domestic terrorists, actually. I think Elon Musk SHOULD be allowed to put on a fursuit and beat up criminals. cops need more funding." no amount of Batman comics can make me believe or act on any of those things because, you know, I'm a person with a brain and I know the difference between "thing that makes a good story" and "thing that should actually happen for real."

and the thing is that genuinely, honestly, if someone thought that it was a red flag that I like Batman, and that enjoying Batman comics was somehow a red flag indicating that I'm fine with violence being done against real, actual children? I would think that person was a nut, if I can be super real. like, I'm thinking about somebody trying to make the case that I shouldn't be allowed to hang out with my nephew because I enjoy the fictional character of Robin so clearly I'm going to kill my nephew's parents in front of him to try to get him into vigilante justice. or if someone attempted to bar me from teaching my 4th-6th grade sex ed classes on the grounds that I was obviously going to teach them to do karate to clowns instead of how their reproductive systems worked.

(although, lets be real, there are a lot of politicians who would MUCH rather let little kids cage fight each other than learn anything about safer sex.)

this doesn't just apply to morally bad things, either, btw. I also read a lot of romance novels, especially hetero romances. and the thing is, not one of those books has made me want to fall in love with a ruggedly handsome but condescending straight man. hell, none of them have made me want to fall in love with anybody, period. that's not really something I'm interested in for myself, it's just a fun and frequently funny dynamic to explore. I'm hardly the first queer person to point out that the allegations that queer media "turns kids gay/trans" is obviously bullshit since the vertible mountain of cishet media evidently failed to turn any of us straight/cis, you know?

my point being: no, I genuinely don't think it's often, if ever, reasonable to judge someone's actual, real life morals by how they interact with fiction.

I'm going to say something so vulnerable right now, because we're in a safe space here: since you asked me this very reasonable question, you evidently value my judgment and perspective at least a little bit. and I once read and thoroughly enjoyed a fic in which Dr. Horrible, from Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, gets fucked by a sapient evil horse. and I don't think that makes me a morally reprehensible person, or a person who advocates for real human beings having real sex with real horses. I think it just makes me kind of a weirdo with a bullshit tolerance.

if you want to hear a MUCH more thorough take on this, complete with addressing the issue of shipping fictional children, I cannot recommend Princess Weekes' video essay enough:

[atlas-likes-writing]

LAPIS LAZULI - 1. Reality

Character(s): Kakavasha/Aventurine

Tags: Long fic, no other tags apply tbf

Word Count: 2651 words

Summary: University seminars, philosophical discussions, and over-the-top ornate letters. What could go wrong?

Author’s note: I’d like to state for the record that I am currently not in university so have no idea how it works, so excuse any inaccuracies you may find here. Also, I had to dig around the Archives in game to make sure the lore is right lmao. Once again this is inspired by the ever wonderful @havanillas and their role swap!au. Check it out!

Account Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Prologue

8.45am - Wednesday

“Doctor? I have a letter addressed to you. Would you like me to leave it on your desk?”

“Yes please, Cassandra. I’ll have a look at it after today’s seminar. Thank you.”

”No problem, Doctor. It will be there when you arrive.”

Kakavasha takes his finger off the call button and leans back in his spinny chair, fingers interlocked on his stomach as he stares at the ceiling of his classroom. One hand reaches for a bottle of water on an oaken desk and he takes a swig, the liquid wonderfully tasteless as it slides down his throat. His students were to arrive within the next five minutes or so, so he makes himself busy by writing up a few diagrams on the whiteboard adjacent to his desk. To his annoyance, the marker pen runs out of ink halfway through, so goes on a hunt through his drawers to find another.

He roots through them for a few minutes, grumbling to himself and making a mental note to buy more with the university budget when he has free time. He finds another and grabs it triumphantly, lifting it to eye level with a grin before promptly realising two of his students have entered the classroom and sat down; now staring at him with poorly withheld amusement. At the sight of one of them giving him a cheeky wave and a “Good morning, Professor-“, he clears his throat and pivots on his heel before continuing his task. Next time he hears the chatter of the entering students before the door opens. The sound of backpacks being chucked under tables and laptops being opened fills the air as the majority enter and Kakavasha can’t prevent his quiet pleased sigh. These kids are here to learn and there is a strange form of pride that wells within him at the idea. With a few brief strokes of the marker, he finishes what he was doing and turns to the few dozen pupils in front of him.

”Morning folks,” he begins, twizzling the pen between his fingers artistically. “Today we’ll be continuing from where we left off on Monday’s lecture. Did anyone have the forethought to read through those notes before today?” A surprising majority of the room murmur their affirmative. He nods. “Good. What do you remember?” he asks, pointing the marker in the direction of redhead two rows from the front.

“We were learning about the different Aeons and the effect they have on THEIR Pathstriders and Emanators, Professor,” he replies meekly. Kakavasha gives a small smile.

”Correct, yes. Monday was about Lan the Hunt and THEIR endorsement of the Xianshou Alliance, as well as the Galaxy Rangers,” he states, now pointing at a shoddily drawn picture of a three-headed being on the whiteboard. “Today we’ll be talking about Xipe the Harmony. What do you already know about THEM and the people who follow THEIR path?”

A few students lift their hands. Kakavasha points to another to answer. A silver-haired foxian. “Xipe is a plural Aeon from lots of worlds. THEY wish for the strong to help the weak.” At the professor’s silent smile, she stutters, “Uh- I think.”

”You’re right. Glad to see you’ve done your research. Xipe is the embodiment of philosophies concerning equal rights and singularity. From what THEIR followers have preached, Xipe the Harmony believes that-“ Kakavasha takes the cap off his marker and begins to ascribe a quote on the whiteboard, “-‘Intellient life forms must discard their cowardly selfishness and the differences between individuals, fusing into one singular melody.’ In simpler terms, THEY believe that no-one is above anyone else, and everyone deserves the same chances in life.” The clicking of several keyboards follow as he circles the finished quote.

”Seems to be too far-fetched a dream, if you ask me,” a student near the back grouches in response. He is slouched back in his chair with his arms crossed, looking poignantly at Kakavasha.

”Why do you say that?” the Sigonian questions, curious.

”The universe does not treat people equally,” the student replies simply.

Ain't that the truth.

”Elaborate.”

The student pushes himself upright with his hands. “I’m all for equal rights, Professor, don’t get me wrong, but the reality of life is that not everyone is born equal. Nepotism is a big reason, but also because there are a lot of shitty people in the universe who don't hesitate to stomp on the backs of others in order to get a step up for themselves.” That is clearly directed at someone specific (or rather a specific organisation), but Kakavasha doesn’t voice that. That organisation is probably funding this pupil’s degree.

”Go on,” he urges, face some kind of welcoming. The student fiddles with the edges of his open laptop for a few moments, unsure, but eventually decides to say what is on his mind.

”There is a level of social and economical class a person needs to have if they want to be taken seriously in this life. I completely agree with the Harmony’s path, but it just isn’t realistic. I mean, what rights does a slave have next to their master?”

And isn’t that the million-credit question? There’s a clear taken aback look on Kakavasha’s face that is concealed as quickly as it appears. His chest tightens slightly and a small lump settles in his throat. It’s a figure of speech, Kakavasha. A figure of speech used to help elaborate a very valid and interesting point of view. He’s sure the kid isn’t aware of the connotations of saying such a thing. He fights the urge to lift his hand to his neck and rub the branding so forcibly put there all those years ago. The habit itches at him, making his fingers twitch.

”Professor?”

Right, he has a class to teach.

He clears his throat and swallows. “You’re very right. Equality is non-existent at this point in time. People less fortunate are facing more and more hardships each day, while those born being fed from silver spoons have it easier. I don't disagree with you. One thing you need to realise, however, is that Aeons’ beliefs are based on ideals, not rules.” The student looks at him with a raised brow, not quite understanding. Kakavasha continues. “Aeons are the embodiment of philosophical concepts. That is all they are: concepts. It's all well and good preaching them but the reality is, like you said, unlikely to take place. Xipe the Harmony has influence all over the cosmos in thousands of worlds but that doesn't mean they are omnipresent. Some Aeons have more influence than others. Qlipoth the Preservation, for example, practically dominates the universe with the IPC. Compare that to Nous the Erudition and THEIR 84 members of the Genius Society and few dozen thousand members of the Intelligentsia Guild and you can see the quantifiable difference.”

Kakavasha needs another sip of his water. The students are hastily writing down notes on computers and notebooks. The original student who started the discussion nods slowly before doing the same. The professor withholds a tired sigh.

This is going to be a long seminar.

10:17am - Wednesday

When the scholar arrives in his office an hour later, he practically collapses into his chair. He drags a hand down his face with a groan and uses the other to take his hair out of its ponytail. The sigh of relief he lets out after the tension is released is audible and warm. His eyes closed, he recalls his lecture timetable and is quietly grateful that the rest of his day is free. Regardless, he keeps his door unlocked in case any of his students need assistance with their work.

He likes what he does at Veritas Prime. It gives him a well-needed break from the tireless nights in this very office spent researching. It also allows him to witness the growth of bright minds. He has a direct effect on the future of these kids (he says “kids” despite the fact that they are all in their twenties and only a few years younger than him) and he is not about to throw their future down the drain. So he tries. He genuinely tries, and the work he puts in makes a difference. If he can give someone with an upbringing as similar as his the chance to grow, then he will take every opportunity he can to do so. No one should be uneducated purely because of where and how they were raised. The ignorant should choose to be ignorant, not be forced into it because they happened to be born into less fortunate circumstances. Kakavasha knows what that's like and he refuses to let others suffer as he did.

Wow. Look at him being all motivational. He should write a speech. The IPC would eat that up. Not that they’d listen to a word he would actually say: they look at the sole survivor of a dead race and they see money bags, not a human being. The thought reminds him of another Intelligentsia Guild scholar. Or rather, a former Intelligentsia Guild member. Veritas Ratio: the man idolised by all. Everyone in the Guild compares Kakavasha to him. They see a young scholar with “promise and potential” and it’s an immediate link. He can’t blame them - the esteemed Doctor Ratio is a legend after all. He feels honoured. Really, he does! He’s simply irked by the fact that he’s compared to such a genius and has yet to meet him. If the Guild’s hapless musings are true, then the potential prospects of their work together would be boundless.

He knows that’s not possible now. Anyone with half a brain cell and access to the Internet knows of the exploits of the former doctor (Well, he’s still a doctor. He still has all eight of those pHDs). A quick search shows a smiling face and his new pseudonym: Lapis Lazuli. Kakavasha doesn’t know him well enough to feel pride for the man, but he does understand the feeling of patriotism at the idea of a former member of the Guild reaching so high that he became one of the Ten Stonehearts. Most people who have worked tirelessly in the IPC all their lives don’t come anywhere close to that level, yet Lapis Lazuli did it in less than half a decade. How did he do it? Status? Money? Luck? Kakavasha inwardly recoils at that last one.

Luck. Most see it as a blessing. For Kakavasha, it’s nothing but a curse. It is his rediculous luck that made him the one that survived the genocide of his people. He was the one who managed to escape that hellhole of a planet (which then resulted in him being thrown into the slave trade, just his luck). It was then just his luck that he was sold, again, to that detestable man in the Guild who found it in himself to strip away Kakavasha’s autonomy (not that he had any at that point anyway) to test on him in hopes of accessing, manipulating, and stealing the only thing that had kept him alive: his luck. Luck bestowed upon him by a god that clearly has a sick sense of humour. Luckily for him, that man couldn’t keep a secret, so he was promptly found and thrown in prison for his unethical practices for a very, very long time.

Now that he's thinking about it, Kakavasha supposes he's doing the same thing. Sort of. Technically the opposite if you squint? He wishes to rid himself of this unbridled luck, yes, but not to manipulate it. He just wants it gone. At least now, in the Intelligentsia Guild, he has the ability and the resources to research such a thing.

Maybe a legend like Veritas Ratio could give a little of his wisdom for his cause.

Yeah, right. Funny joke.

The Sigonian leans forwards and rests his elbows on his desk, head in his hands. He sulks. That's right. A grown man sulks. He stares at the mahogany wood and slips of paper below him and unfocuses his eyes, staying like that for a good twenty minutes or so before noticing a particularly eye-catching envelope addressed directly to him with an elaborate IPC-esque seal on the front. Ah right, the letter. This must have been what Cassandra was talking about earlier. He sits up straight and sorts out his posture. Opening his desk drawer, he hunts around for a bit until he finds the blade of a letter opener. He uses it to open the envelope and fishes out the letter within. It's written in printed cursive on crisp and pure white paper with an ornate golden border around the edge. Gold leaves creep up the sides and dance around the corners, making Kakavasha feel as if it’s addressed to the wrong person at first. His name plastered on the back of the envelope and the top of the paper says otherwise.

It's an invitation.

To the wise and honourable Doctor Kakavasha,

The Interastral Peace Corporation invites you and several other esteemed members of the Intelligentsia Guild to a business party at 8pm on Friday the [xx] of [xxxx] at Pier Point. This is a black-tie event, so please dress applicably. Transport will be provided for you, so please RSVP as soon as possible if you wish to attend. This is a party hosted in hopes of forging positive relations between the IPC and its allied organisations, as well as fostering camaraderie and healthy business. We look forward to hearing from you.

Kind regards,

D, P47

Kakavasha rereads the letter several times, frown deepening more and more as his comprehension of it improves. His immediate thought is to rip it up and throw the remains in his paper bin. Kakavasha hates parties. He has done for years. They're always full of demeaning pricks trying to get into either his research papers or his pants. The Avgin has always refused both.

A business party connecting the Intelligentsia Guild and the IPC. The two organisations already have connections with each other, the latter funding a lot of the projects within the former, so what gives? Why have this party? Granted, it states several reasons within the letter, but the IPC is nothing without their ulterior motives. It could be as simple as the rich and powerful wanting to rub elbows with the other rich and powerful (knowing this universe, this is probably the case), but there is always the possibility of more menacing reasons.

Kakavasha is a scholar at heart. Scholars have always been beings of curiosity. He reads the letter again and sees another thing that catches his eye.

D: an initial that implies that this is an invite by Diamond, founder of the Ten Stonehearts. Will this Diamond, rumoured Emanator of Qlipoth the Preservation, actually be present during this party? Absolutely not. He's far too important for that. Will other Stonehearts be present, though? Almost definitely. Kakavasha's mind flicks back to the rabbit hole he fell down in the wee hours of the morning one night, surfing the Internet and scrounging the web for information on a certain grape-haired executive he's so closely compared to.

Veritas Ratio. Lapis Lazuli. Maybe he will be there. Maybe they can have a discussion about how to cure his dastardly luck.

Kakavasha picks up his phone and dials for his secretary. She answers almost immediately.

“Yes, Doctor?” she begins.

“Hiya, Cassandra. Please may you contact the IPC with a RSVP? I've been asked to attend a party of theirs.”

“Doctor Kakavasha? At a party? Willingly? I must be going mad,” she jokes.

“You and I both,” he chuckles in response. “Thanks Cassandra.”

“Of course.”

Kakavasha puts the phone down and leans back in his chair, calculating in his mind quietly at what in Gaiathra’s great name he’s doing.

He's going to need a suit.

-

Hope you enjoyed! Reblogs appreciated

[hochsleep]

Relationship with Daryl Dixon (headcanons)

This is my first experience writing headcanons, but I have a lot to say! And yes, I used a gif from Beth, but we don't support that pairing here, guys.....

Also, thanks to the author of the gif!

Pronouns: she/her (fem!reader) / (I'll do headcanons for Daryl's relationship for gender-neutral readers later on)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon/fem!reader (Y/N)

Warnings: no, not this time. Everything is decent (underage readers can read)

• Daryl Dixon is far from stupid. I mean, he can certainly tell the difference between romantic interest and friendly sympathy. He has Carol, his best friend, and he knows that he feels for her the kind of platonic friendly love he usually feels for a family member. But that's not the case with you. Sure, you've most likely known Daryl for a long time (assuming you joined Rick's group at any point from Atlanta to Prison, can pick at your discretion). So since you've known each other for a while, Daryl has had time to realize that his feelings for you are far from friendly. All the tenderness and care that he feels for you hardly compares to friendship. Daryl definitely didn't feel like kissing Carol's lips every time she came into his field of vision. That's the difference.

• But realizing your feelings is only halfway there. Daryl isn't the type to make the first move and declare his love. He's a very insecure person because of his past, so it would be hard for him to believe that someone like you would want someone like him. Daryl will just watch over you from the sidelines, he will make sure you are safe and will always be there to protect you. Even if it's just a harmless fall down the stairs when you were arranging jars of canned fruit on the top shelf in the Alexandria pantry. He will notice that the stepladder beneath you is wobbling dangerously and will be there to catch you and prevent you from bruising any part of your body. He will take great care of you.

• Daryl is probably the type of man who idolizes and admires the girl he's in love with. Both her character and inner world, as well as her looks. He would spend hours just looking at your unconditionally beautiful face. Every mole, every freckle, every wrinkle in the corner of your eyes when you smile. God, he could never get enough. Every part of you is perfect. Daryl's not sure he's ever seen a more beautiful woman. I mean, he probably had a soft spot for women he personally thought were pretty in the past, but it was never more than a glance in their direction. Just trying to say that Daryl isn't a pristine and innocent man who never thought about women. Over the many years of his maybe not the most prosperous life, Daryl has definitely had his fair share of beautiful women. But it had always been respectful. Mental admiration from the sidelines. Daryl never "barked" or "bit" like Merle. Daryl is much more respectful of women.

• That's why he likes to watch from the sidelines and think about you. A lot of thinking. Daryl is indeed a man of few words, but he has more than enough to think about. And when he falls in love, you become the center. Except when Daryl has to think about survival or when he and Rick are making a plan of action to save the group. But rest assured, all of Daryl's free time is spent thinking about you. He's very observant and remembers every little thing about you so he can think about it later. Do you like to read? Daryl will listen to you talk about your favorite books and find them during one of your outings, rest assured. Do you like wildflowers? Great, a bouquet of a hundred of them will be waiting for you on the doorstep of your Alexandria home when you come home after a hard day's work. Maybe you like a certain kind of clothing? Like something knit? Daryl will either find it during the outing or ask Carol to help with it when she's not busy. He won't say who it's for, but Carol certainly knows. And after you get those little gifts, Daryl will watch you smile widely because you know who left them under your door. And Daryl will think about your smile until he falls asleep at night. But he'll only dream about you, too.

• Somehow you were the first to admit your feelings because Daryl is actually cowardly about these things. A man can take on walkers or hostile people with his bare hands (like the Saviors), but he definitely can't just go and tell someone he really likes how he feels. No, you have to push him. And hints aren't enough, you have to say it outright. And then probably prove the sincerity of your words of love for the rest of your life, because Daryl Dixon is a very insecure man. He knows in his brain that you really do love him and will be faithful to him, but those childhood traumas are really getting in the way of his life. Be prepared for that.

• Your relationship with Daryl will gain momentum gradually. I don't think Daryl really likes all these formalities and labels like "girlfriend" and "boyfriend". You're just his and he's just yours. There's no need to complicate it all, the world of the zombie apocalypse is already very complicated. But if you care about dates and formalities, surely Daryl can learn to take it seriously. Not right away, but he will. Just give him time and he'll lay the whole world at your feet. And he'll start marking your anniversary with a marker on his calendar so that he definitely won't miss this important day for you (he won't admit it, but for him too). Daryl will be learning and you'll have to be a good mentor in this relationship for the first few years. It will be worth it, trust me.

• Daryl Dixon gets attached to people easily. He's like a big loyal dog. I mean, have you seen how loyal he is to Rick and Carol? He bites at first, doesn't want to let anyone in, but eventually he gives in and lets you take his heart and soul under his protection. Take care of that. My point is that this is the same way love works in Daryl's case. I'm pretty sure Daryl doesn't believe in the concept of love at first sight and stuff, he rather believes that love only comes about through the process of a relationship. So at first he thinks you are just a pretty woman. Then a friend. Then a good friend. And yes, he may feel sympathy, affection and probably crush at this time, but not love. No, he falls in love with you gradually. It's a slow process, but in Daryl's case it will be forever. He's definitely a one-woman man. And when he allows himself to really love you and not just be a little bit in love, when his heart completely belongs to you and he finally says "I love you" with all seriousness and responsibility, rest assured that this is love. This man will show you what true love is. Safe, sincere, and endlessly committed. Just give him time. Let him love you.

• The following headcanon (though I think it's unqualified canon) about Daryl's loyalty follows from this. You may try to be jealous of him or think he'll fall in love with someone else (it all depends on your confidence), but Daryl will prove time and time again that he's only loyal to you. This man is serious about his and your feelings and your relationship. Therefore, he will not give not a single reason for jealousy. But there could be quite a few women around (and men probably too) who might like Daryl. He doesn't care, he will never look at anyone else. Why would he do that when he has you? You're perfect for him and his heart doesn't belong to him anymore. So if Daryl notices your jealousy and insecurity, he'll spend all his time trying to prove to you that you're the one for him. He's deeply committed. To Rick, to Carol, to Maggie, to Alexandria. He's eternally devoted to you.

• The relationship with Daryl will be full of complexities, let's not turn a blind eye to that. He's a complicated man with a lot of trauma behind him. The situation is more acute if you're a complicated person, too. There's a lot to put up with. Probably a lot of fighting at the beginning of the relationship, especially if we're talking about Daryl from the first seasons of the show. But if you're both willing to work on that relationship, it will work well. Again, not right away, but it will. Daryl is sure that his love for you will be enough for both of you and certainly for solving all your problems in this relationship. He will try his best for you and you will try your best for him too.

• Physical intimacy is probably going to be difficult. Daryl's not a fan of close physical contact, especially with someone he can't call his family. You know, the boy had a shitty childhood. But he feels the need to feel the warmth of your skin on his skin. So he may unknowingly touch you before your relationship even begins. It could just be a "casual" hand collision when you both reached for the same item on the shelf. Or he may lightly touch your shoulder when he needs to get your attention and say something to you. You shouldn't pressure him with this and force a hug or anything like that. He will definitely come to it on his own when he's comfortable and he sees that you're okay with it. As your relationship progresses, he will open up to new types of physical contact more quickly. Sure he'll hug you a lot, try to hold your hand in his, but it's all in private. And of course kissing. I think Daryl actually likes kissing, but he's not very good at it for lack of much experience. Teach him how to kiss well if you have enough experience yourself. He'll be a good student. Especially when it comes to lessons involving his lips on yours. I'm pretty sure Daryl will become very clingy as your relationship progresses. When you're alone together, he won't be able to feel comfortable unless his arms are around you in one way or another. He physically needs to hold you, to bump his nose into your neck and hair to smell your scent, which he loves so much. And of course kissing. Gentle kisses or passionate French kisses, he loves it all.

• Daryl definitely doesn't like the display of attachment on the publick. He considers it yours and his alone. Something private that needs to be kept out of the public eye. Well, he's also pissed off by those ambiguous looks Carol and Rick give him after you call him "baby" or "cutie" in public. But Daryl is willing to hold your hands and will even let you kiss him on the cheek in public if he's in a good mood. He'll save the rest for the two of you alone in your sweet home in Alexandria.

• As for intimacy, everything is ambiguous here. I think for Daryl it is not at all a mandatory aspect of the relationship. If you are asexual, he will have absolutely no problem with this. You are more than enough. The opportunity to see you smile, hug you and make you happy is all he needs. Sex is not necessary and Daryl can definitely live without it if you are not interested in sexual relations. But if you are not against it, then he will be happy to please you. I mean, he does it every day just by existing and loving you, but if he can please you in a sexual sense, he will be happy to do so. But again, not right away. You both will go to this gradually. Trial and error. Only when he completely opens up to you and is not ashamed of his scars, knowing that you love them completely and completely because they are a part of him. But most importantly, when you yourself tell him that you are also ready, then you can act. Daryl has some experience. Merle ordered Daryl... a prostitute for his twenty-first birthday and Daryl had to do it. I think he was the one feeling like a prostitute, not the woman. And maybe he's slept with random women from a bar a couple of times after drinking too much. But it was never anything special and not out of great desire. With you, it's different. Sex with you is his way of showing you love in a new way. Either way, he knows how it works, but you still need to guide him. Show him how you like it and help him the first few times. Daryl is a quick learner, especially if you help him. So pretty soon he'll memorize all the right places and positions to make you feel good as hell, nothing less. Daryl will make sure that you feel good first.

• Your comfort is Daryl's absolute priority. Over the years, he will learn to compromise and give in when necessary. Daryl loves you unconditionally and is ready to be on his knees in front of you, this is what you have done to him with your love and tenderness. Daryl Dixon has become soft and fluffy around you. Just for you. Merle would call him a pansy and laugh, but Daryl doesn't care. Not anymore. You're all he cares about.

• You're his safe place. His home. His heart and soul belong to you, take care of it. And then Daryl Dixon will move mountains for you, you bet he will.

~ A cute little headcanon as a bonus: I honestly think the soundtrack of the relationship with Daryl, is the song: The Goo Goo Dolls - Iris.

[marvelsmylife]

An unconventional love story

Pairing: Rhysand x Vanserra!Reader

Plot: when you fall pregnant with your husband's child. Rhysand, along with his brothers and your brothers must put their differences aside to help save your life

Masterlist

Request

You and Rhysand didn’t have a storybook love story. You were arranged to get married because your father wanted more power and all but sold you to Rhysand. You could tell this was just a business transaction for Rhysand so you didn’t bother trying to get to know him at first. Fortunately for you, the courtship lasted three years before your actual wedding. The courtship was painfully awkward at the beginning. 

While you and Rhys didn’t speak unless you were forced to, you ended up forming a close friendship with Mor. Yes, it was awkward at first, seeing as she had a bad relationship with your oldest brother. You reassured her you weren’t like him and slowly gained her trust. She, in turn, would encourage Rhysand to talk to you more and get to know you better.

Rhysand would take what his cousin said to heart and would try to get to know you better. Of course, you were walking on eggshells and overall awkward when you were in the same room together. He knew you initially didn’t want to marry him but was willing to do it for the sake of your father and your court. 

He asked you repeatedly if you were sure about getting married because he didn’t want to force you if you genuinely didn’t want to go through with the marriage. “Yes,” I would almost shout in response, “it’s just that this is all new to me. I’ve never even had my first kiss yet because of how controlling my father is. I feel like won’t be enough for you.”

Rhysand sighed at your explanation and ended up pulling you into an embrace, “You are enough for me. If I’m being honest, I was the one to suggest this marriage to your father and hid it as a business transaction because I got wind he was planning on marrying you off to one of Keir’s men.” 

Rhysand shuttered as he recalled that night vividly. Rhysand was walking through the halls of Hewn City when he overheard Keir and your father's voice. “Don’t worry, her maidenhood is still intact. She hasn’t even had her first kiss yet” your father said and Rhysand found himself clenching his fist. He couldn’t believe your father was willing to marry you off to someone as sleazy as one of Keir’s men. That’s when he walked in and offered to marry you in exchange for an alliance between your courts. Your father was all too eager to accept Rhysand’s offer.

Letting out a sigh I replied, “Honestly I’m not surprised. Although, I’m a little happier knowing I’m marrying you and not one of Keir’s men,” I scrunched up my nose, “you’re way more attractive than any of them.”

A smirk appeared on Rhysand’s face at your words, “You think I’m attractive?”

“We’ll yeah, have you seen yourself in the mirror?” you answered honestly “I’d much rather marry you than marry any of Keir’s men.”

Rhysand laughed softly at your comment and brushed a piece of hair away from your face, “You are something else y/n. I can’t wait to marry you.”

You felt your face growing hot at Rhysand’s words. “Can I ask for a favor?” You asked after a few minutes of silence. Rhysand nodded and you continued, “Could you kiss me? I don’t want to have my first kiss to happen in front of everyone at our wedding.”

Rhysand’s eyes softened at your request but complied. He cupped your face before leaning in and kissed you. It was short and sweet but you found yourself smiling by the end. “There. Now your first kiss won’t be in front of hundreds of fae” Rhysand smiled down at you.

“Thank you,” you smiled up at Rhysand, “and I promise I’ll be a perfect wife for you.”

“I don’t want you to be perfect,” Rhysand replied, “I just want you to be happy in our marriage. My parents didn’t have a happy marriage and although I’m technically marrying you without you having a say. I do want you to be happy in our marriage.”

You gave Rhysand a genuine smile that caused his heart to skip a beat. “I can already tell I’m going to be happy in our marriage,” you held onto each other for a few more minutes before finally pulling away and saying your goodbyes. Not realizing the next time you would see each would be at your wedding.

Your first time with Rhysand was surprisingly great for both of you. It was no secret that Rhysand wasn’t a virgin when you started courting, but you were. Your father wanted you to be pure for your future spouse so he would execute any males who would dare show interest in you. Your father was proud of himself as he announced it in front of everyone at the wedding reception.

While you wanted to crawl into a hole and die at your father’s words, so Rhysand reached over and held your hand to comfort you. “It’s going to be ok” Rhysand whispered to you to try and calm you down.

After the reception, you and Rhysand made your way to the private residence your father bought for this specific moment. You were in the bathroom getting ready to consummate your marriage. Once you were ready, you stepped out of the bathroom and spotted Rhys lying down on the extravagantly large bed. There was no doubt it was designed specifically to accommodate his large wings.

Your breath hitched as you noticed Rhysand checking you out. You felt the urge to cover yourself at his stare but opted not to because you knew he was now allowed to stare at you in that manner. “Um,” I paused “as you know, I haven’t been with anyone so I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” you whispered as you played with your fingers.

Rhysand’s eyes softened at your words and got up from the bed, before walking over to where you were standing. “It’s ok, little red. I’ll guide you through this,” Rhysand ran his finger against your cheek before settling it on your waist.

You start breathing heavily as Rhysand pulls the straps of your white, lace nightgown; making it drop on the floor. Your long red hair cascaded over your breasts, “Wow” Rhysand whispered as he saw your bare chest. Feeling self-conscious, you tried to cover your, but Rhysand stopped you. “Never hide yourself from me,” Rhysand whispered as he removed your hands before pushing your hair back so he could see your breasts “They’re beautiful.”

A low groan escaped from Rhysand’s lips as he ran his thumbs over your hardened nipples. Your heart started racing as Rhysand took one of your nipples into his mouth and began to suck on it. “Do you like that?” Rhysand asked as he held onto you possessively.

“Yes” I whimpered softly as you ran your hands through Rhysand’s raven-black hair, “I really like it.”

Rhysand groaned at your actions and decided to lift you by your thighs and carry you to the bed. His eyes were glued to you as he laid you down on the bed. “I’m going to make this a night you’ll never forget.”

You smiled as Rhysand took his time and worshipped your body. He spent a solid thirty minutes between your legs, getting you ready for his cock. He made sure he talked to you the entire time to make you feel comfortable. Once he knew you were prepared, Rhysand lined his cock against your entrance “Relax, ok?” You gave a small nod before he carefully slid into you slowly. “Fuck. You’re so deliciously tight,” Rhysand groaned as he tried to control himself so he didn’t slam in all at once. 

“It still hurts,” You shut your eyes as tight as you could as Rhysand’s cock stretched you out.

Rhysand heart hurt at your cry, “I know sweetie, but it’ll pass and you’ll feel good. Just like before with my tongue. You just have to relax your body.”

You tried what Rhysand said and relaxed while he continued to insert his cock fully inside you. Once he was, he remained still for several seconds as he allowed you to adjust to his size. He didn’t want to hurt you and only wanted to continue when you gave him the ok. After a few minutes, you were able to fully relax and whisper into his ear, “You can start moving.”

Rhysand looked you in your eyes to make sure you were ok before he slowly started to move inside you carefully. He could tell you were still uncomfortable so he started kissing your neck in an attempt to distract you. It worked because slowly your whimpers of discomfort turned into moans of pleasure. “You feel amazing y/n.”

“Rhys” you panted as you began to dig your nails into his back. Hearing his name slip out of your lips only encouraged Rhysand to pick up his pace while his hands roamed your body. “It feels so good,” you shut your eyes as you let yourself get consumed with pleasure.

Soft cries of pleasure and groans filled the room as you and Rhysand made love that night. By the end Rhysand had you lying on top of him while he whispered sweet nothings into your ears. “Thank you for being gentle with me. I’ve heard horror stories from some of my maids about how horrible some males get when they’re being intimate with a female.”

Rhysand’s eyes softened at your words and held you close. “I will never hurt you. You are my wife, my equal and I will show you nothing but respect during our marriage,” with that Rhysand placed a kiss on your forehead before both of you drifted off to sleep.

From that night forward yours and Rhysand’s relationship changed for the better. You were no longer awkward around each other. You often sought each other out and constantly had to be touching. He also had to explain to you that you had to put on a mean persona whenever you had to visit the Hewn City. He explained he created a mean persona so the people in Hewn City would fear him.

Fortunately for him, you mastered the mean persona while living with your father in the autumn court. You had to toughen up at a young age because most of your brothers would bully you for being the only female among them. The only brothers you genuinely got along with were Eris and Lucien. Eris because he didn’t see you as a threat and Lucien because you were his baby sister and felt more of an urge to protect than bully. 

You loved Lucien so much for being so kind to you growing up, that he was the first to find out you were pregnant.

It was a warm summer evening when he came over for his weekly visit. He immediately knew something was different about you but he couldn’t put his finger on it. It wasn’t until he was up close when could see your glowing face that he realized you were pregnant. “I’m so excited for you, baby sister. I know you will be an amazing mother,” Lucien exclaimed as Rhysand entered the room. Lucien then proceeds to hug Rhys and tell him he’s happy for him as well.

Unfortunately, the joyous news was short-lived when Madja informed Rhysand in private that the baby had wings. Rhysand silently cursed himself because he had a feeling that was going to happen. He had tried for months to try to convince you not to have kids. He disguised it as he saw them as a burden, but in reality, he wanted nothing more than to have a mini version of the two of you. You ultimately got your way and managed to convince Rhysand that you guys needed an heir for the nigh court.

Ever since that revelation, Rhysand would silently panic about how he was going to tell you that your baby would most likely kill you. He would think back to the old version him, the one who wouldn’t have cared for your well-being. He often wished he could punch that old version of him and tell him that you were the best thing to ever happen to him. Seeing as he’s come to love and cherish you, he couldn’t bring himself to think of a world where you’re not in it.

As weeks passed and was running out of options on how to save both your life, Rhysand finally goes to Eris and Lucien for help. They were both rightfully mad that Rhysand hid this from not only them but also you. “How could you keep this from our sister? Our sister might die because of you.” Eris scolded your husband as Azriel, Cassian, and Lucien winced.

“You don’t think I know that!” Rhysand barked back as he ran his hands over his face, “I tried, I tried hard to convince her not to have a child but she was very persistent.” Rhysand found himself breaking down as the realization that you might die hit him, “I-we can’t let that happen. That’s why I called you guys. I need your help finding a way to save my wife’s life.”

Both Eris and Lucien’s anger disappeared once they heard Rhysand’s pleas. “I’ll ask around the other courts. Hopefully one of them knows something that can help us,” Eris gave Rhysand a weak smile.

“I’ll ask around the mortal lands. See if they somehow know something,” Lucien added. He walked up to his brother-in-law and patted his shoulder, “We’re going to figure this out and save my sister, ok?” Rhysand nodded as all five males in the room began working together to save your life.

Months quickly passed by with little to no progress on how to help you. Time ran out one morning when your water finally broke while you were gardening outside. “Rhys ! ! !” you shouted at you clenched your stomach, “it’s time, the baby is coming.”

Rhysand appeared by your side in a matter of seconds and guided you to your bed before calling out to Madja. “It’s going to be ok, my darling y/n,” Rhysand kissed the top of your head as he helped you out of your clothes and into your nightgown.

Meanwhile, in the day court, Eris was thanking Helion for managing to find a tonic that would help you deliver the babe without harming both of you. “Thank you for your help. The autumn court is in your debt.” Eris informed Helion.

“Don’t worry about it. Y/n has become a good friend ever since she and Rhys got married,” Helion smiled before Eris left for the night court.

Fortunately for everyone, you were still in the early stages of your delivery when Eris arrived and rushed to your side. “Drink this,” Eris uncapped the tonic and gave it to you. You gave him a funny look before he angrily said. “Drink this.”

“Ok, you don’t have to be rude,” you took the tonic before handing the empty bottle back to Eris. “Why did you-oh” Your face morphed for a few seconds as you felt something change within your body.

Rhysand, Eris, Lucien, Cassian, Azriel, Mor, and Amren all watched carefully. Rhysand bent down and got ahold of your hand, “my love, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly, “I felt as if my body changed” You looked over at Madja and began to panic, “did something bad happen to my baby?”

Madja rushed over and examined you, “Mother above, I didn’t think this would be possible,” Madja whispered before looking up at you, “yes, it looks like the baby is ok. It’s just that your anatomy changed so you’ll be able to deliver the baby properly.” Madja looked over at Eris “I don’t know what you gave her, but you just saved her’s and the babe's life.”

Eris had a small smile on his face at Madja’s words as he watched from the side as you gave birth to your child. 

You smiled down at your baby boy, who happened to have his father’s skin complexion and violet eyes with your fiery red hair and your nose. “He’s perfect” you gushed as you held your son in your hands. You looked up and noticed everyone staring at you and the baby, “do you want to hold your son, Rhysand?”

Rhysand was more than happy to hold his son while Lucien bent down next to you and kept repeating how happy and proud he was of you. “You did good y/n. That is the most precious babe I’ve ever seen. He’s going to be so loved by us and the two courts his parents are from.”

“Thank you, Lucien. You and Eris,” you look over at Eris who was also knelt down beside you, “are the best brothers anyone can ask for.” 

Lucien gently kissed your hand before him and Eris backed up and Rhysand take their place. “Look at him. He’s going to be a heartbreaker when he grows up,” Rhysand bent down so he was close to you while holding our child.

“He better not. He’s going to respect females from a very young age,” you laughed as you placed your hand on top of Rhysand’s.

In that instant, both you and Rhysand felt the mating bond snap between the two of you. “Would you look at that?” Rhysand chuckled “It only took you giving birth to our son for the mating bond to snap into place for us.”

You let out a soft laugh as Rhysand handed you back the baby so you could nurse him. “I love you, Rhys.”

“I love you too, my darling y/n” Rhysand placed a kiss on your forehead and held your hand. Content that not only did he still have you in his life, but that your baby boy was here as well and he was healthy.

[starreyblueberry]

Timmy Turners fate in the new series is one of the most anticipated/theorized aspects of the new show right now. We have multiple easter eggs towards him being a possible character in the new show, and due to the creator saying that Timmys kids could possibly be Cosmo and Wandas next godkids, I don't think Timmy has kids yet (aka the channel chaser ending might be on its way, but not happened just yet.) He is arguably going to either be a huge hit or miss, everyone has different ideas, fates, what he should be, what would be the best conclusion to his character. The lines between real genuine trauma and gags in the old show are blurry, as well as core aspects of his personality. It’s so hard to actually write him as an adult for the new show purely cause what exactly are you going to take from the show that MATTERS. Will you take the lovingness of his parents from season one? or the neglectful spiteful parents they become from season 4. Will you take the horrible grades as him actuallly being bad at school, or crocker failing him on purpose. Will chole even be his best friend? Or is it back to AJ and Chester? Or will his only friends be cosmo and wanda?

We’re Cosmo and Wanda parents to Timmy, or just godparents.

Its already proven that timmys magic somewhat stayed (aka Peris existence, Dale being a millionare, hell even dimsdale/fairy world being intact) If they will acklowdge that? The school mascot being Timmy turner adjacent, past fairy’s seeming to have remembered Timmy (The tooth fairy having a little card of Timmy, Jorgen hanging out w cosmo and Wanda more CAUSE of Timmy’s adventures etc). He’s somehow a crutal part of almost every piece of the show and he’s not even there. I fully believe they’re gonna explain why a lot of Timmy’s wishes have stayed (in my opinion so many of his changes have made the world in general a better place, and he has saved the universe so often undoing his shit would kinda change the whole fabric of space and time, thus making his magic stay, memories are more… iffy.)

I know a huge thing is also the family dynamic, the fact Timmy is their favourite, hell the HALL OF TIMMY!!! The fact they keep a picture of his room in their house, the fact that they reference him sometimes within conversations with hazel. Never actually spoken his name but implied that’s their Timmy (aside from one time) That the reason the world is right now the reason this problem or circumstance or blessing is happening is because of Timmy Turner.

The amount of pure power Timmy has over the show is something crazy, and I do trust the new writers to give us an ending that will satisfy us. He’s been so connected to many people’s childhoods, showing found family at its core. He’s snarky, loud, smart, kind, and more. People want to see him happy, people want to see him with his family. Who you count as his family is up to you. It’s already been semi-confirmed it’s gonna be connected to the channel chasers ending since most of the general audience has said they wished the show ended during that time ( I have my own opions about it but I digress.) It would be super cool if they did their own take, aka any unconventional Timmy future that we haven’t seen as a concept in the OG show. I know many people are rooting for too remember, for them to be united, and I really wish it happens. We also have to remember this is hazels story too, and we’ll be seeing the end of Timmy’s story rather then the middle of it. A special about him would be amazing though, especially if he’s either the hero, or the villain. Idk!!One day I’ll make a full post about every possible future Timmy and my preferences towards which ones, but for now I’ll stick with my analysis of the OG show.

All I know is that Timmy changed Cosmo, Wandas, and Peris life almost more then any other Godkid, and I like to think the show respects the impact he had. Not only as their godkid, but as their first kid to consider true family.

[culbi]

you know even if billford is what brought me into gravity falls, i should have known that fiddauthor is what i will stay for

I mean, yes billford is great and i love it and it's pure angst and pain (both physical and psychological) and manipulations and agony and everything but. but. fiddleauthor is everything i value in a good ship, its a)friends to lovers. they are great friend and they get each other and they are there for each other. b) BELIEVABLE. the homophobic environment, the desperation, the fiddleford's wedding with a woman he doesn't love, the escape to gravity falls to be with the one man who Understands you. AND ford being "different" in one way, nobody suspected he was "different" in another. and wait, not "different". a FREAK. neither of them can let anyone think they are anything more than friends

and c) (optional, really, but greatly appreciated) they are a scientist and an engineer. i just love science in romance, cant help it

but lets get back to how REALISTIC fiddauthor is. and it has variants. both of them in love and dating and keeping their relationship a secret because letting anyone know is dangerous? yes. neither of them realizing what those feelings are and just enjoyind spending time together with occasional lingering touch or look? or even staying late at night, whispering to no one but moon and a man in front of them how lucky they are to have each other? sure. what about one-sided romance? fidds getting the hots for stanford or ford realizing why he had never been interested in a girl in school - you can have anything. and don't get me started on how sorry i am for fiddleford's wife, because she probably genuinely loves him. she just wants her husband to be home with her and their son, and fiddleford just... can't. that life is not for him and hes too afraid to admit it to himself, let alone emma may.

but then, hooo, then comes little billy. billy who plays with their feelings, fiddlefords in particular, definitely knowing what keeps the man up at night. he teases, he teases so much, he wants to tear them both to shreds and keep ford to himself, all broken and alone. god, if there were any gentle kisses or forehead touches between the scientists before, bill does that he posseses fords body and he and fidds have sex. and its awful. and its good. fiddleford doesn't get to say no, and even if he did, he couldnt say no. not when its ford, or his voice or his hands or his lips. and the funniest part? ford wouldn't remember or KNOW about that. fiddleford of course feels awful, feels like he used his friend, abused his trust, ruined everything. bill, manipulative bitch he is, just messes with their relationship, with fidds mind and ford sense of reality. atta boy.

in conclusion: fiddauthor is beautiful, a piece of art, and billfiddlesford is an upgrade version, special pain edition.

[aceistheplace86]

Ephemeral pt. 2

It had been almost a week and still no word from Stanford, you had never moved in with him so you had your home to reside in. You were a little upset that he had not been by, not even a phone call. You had thought you would run into him at the grocery store or just around town but you should’ve known better. You hardly saw him during your relationship, why would you now?

You were currently sitting on your couch catching up on one of your favorite TV series when your phone rings. You reach over and pick it up “Hello?”

“Hey” It was Stanley, and he sounded hesitant

“Oh hey Stan” You spoke slowly “Uhm. Why are you calling?”

He sighed heavily “I know what happened, and I’m sorry about my brother. He cares he just” He trails off “But he will come around y’know?”

You were quiet for a moment “You know, I wanted to be a teacher”  your voice soft, this being the first time you had brought this up to Stan.

“Really?” He sounded confused “I thought you were working with Ford, whatever science-y stuff he does”

You chuckled softly “I wanted to go to school for teaching, but Stanford said I was “too smart” to waste my talents on that. That my time would be better spent helping him with his research” You scoffed and shook your head “Not that he let me help that often, and then he started to shut me out”

“Why’d you listen to him?”

“I love him.”

Stan was quiet for a moment “I think you’d be a good teacher. You were always helpful to me when we were kids”

“You were always brilliant Stanley, it’s not your fault some people couldn’t see that” You had often helped Stan with school, you had always known he was smart. You saw how he and other kids were made to feel less than others, and you vowed never to be like that “I thought I would make a difference”

“You did to me” He reassured you “I mean, you made me feel smart when we were working on that portal” He was silent for a moment “I have to go, but hang in there okay? If you need me, you know where to find me”

“Thanks, Stan.”

-

You were now cleaning up the kitchen after making dinner. You were in the middle of clearing dishes when there was a knock on the door. Confused, you slowly made your way to the door not sure who would be over this late.

You peeked out the window and saw Stanford standing on the porch with his hands shoved in his pocket. You sighed but opened the door “Hey Ford” you said softly

He looked almost surprised that you answered the door “H-Hello Darling” He stuttered “I-I wanted to talk to you”

“About?” you raised your eyebrow but had not let him in yet.

“My Multiverse Echo Theory, states that there are many alternate realities” He starts.

“Goodbye Stanford” You go to shut the door, but he puts his hand out to stop you.

“Wait, please let me explain,” He says quickly, when you make no movements, he nods “As I was saying my Multiverse Echo Theory states that there are many alternate realities, meaning that there are tons of realities where you and I are together. There are some where we aren’t, of course, and there are some where we are just friends, or enemies, and some where we are in a relationship” He puts his hands in his pockets “I would like to believe that this is one of the realities where we belong together”

“It took you a week to come visit me” you stated.

He nodded. “I apologize for that. I believed, at the time, that you had wanted me to choose between my research and you” he said “And that, quite frankly, was not fair. I have always had a bit of a hard time with understanding people, it causes a lot of miscommunications and has left me quite lonely” He sighs “I don’t know when to stop, I can’t tell when people are mad at me or for what reason. I can’t tell when they're mad but will come back or when they’re just done” He hesitated “You and Stanley were always there for me, and always waited for me to understand. I appreciate that. Then I realized that you never wanted me to pick between you and my research, you just wanted me to divide my time equally”

You stared at him, not exactly sure where to begin. You knew he had a difficult time with others, but you were stuck on one single fact “You thought I was having you choose between our relationship and your research… and you picked your research”

“I’ve been working on this for years,” he says simply. “You don’t understand how much I’ve spent on this, or what it means to me. I have spent my whole life being labeled a freak, but here” he looks around “Gravity Falls, there are far weirder things than me”

You shook your head slowly “No Stanford. That’s what you don’t get. You think you’ve been searching for so long for a place to fit in, but Stan and I have been there for you since the beginning. We were there every time you pushed us out, and anytime you rambled on about finding a place to fit in, we stuck by you” You straighten your posture “I gave up my dreams to follow you here. Stan gave up any chance at a normal life to stick around, pay your mortgage, and try and bring you back. You couldn’t even thank him right off that bat. God, you don’t even understand it still now!”

He looked confused and straightened his glasses “Your dreams of being a teacher? No offense, but you could do better things than being a teacher”

“Will you stop it!” You exclaimed “I could do anything I wanted; I get it. I’m sorry you don’t think I’m “living up to my potential” but the thought of being a teacher was something that brought me joy. I loved being around kids and seeing their eyes light up when they figured out what they were struggling with” You continued, “I wanted to make a difference to even just one kid. That would have been enough for me”

He looked confused now; he opened his mouth and then closed it again for a moment. “I don’t understand, I was helping you”

“How?!” You could not understand where his logic was right now “You took me away from my family and my friends, you cut contact with the only other person who understood us, you convinced me that working with you was going to lead to better things. You didn’t even let me help you” You started “Then you got stuck in that portal. I thought I lost you. I didn’t know what I was going to do without you! I was scared, Stanford. I just wanted you back.”

“How do you think I felt? I was stuck in dimensions!” he countered

“This is not a competition!” You cried out “This is me trying to get you to see that you had people in your corner, and you kept knocking them down. You cut off your brother, then tried to kick him out when you returned. You ruined any chance Fiddleford had at marriage and years of being a father. You know he was the first one in his family to even go to college?”

“You leave him out of this” He snapped “At least he helped me more than you ever did with my research. You just kept pulling me from it!”

You opened your mouth to remind him that he never actually let you try to work with him, you didn’t get to build the portal or go over notes, all you did was take care of the home, and maybe get to hear his theories if he had time. But you realized this was a pointless fight. “Your Multiverse Echo Theory states that there are many other realities” You started “I keep trying to help you Ford, I let you hurt me time and again because I love you but I don’t think you love me as much as you say” You glanced down at the ground “I don’t think we can be saved in this reality.  Every good moment we have ever had only existed briefly. I can’t spend my life waiting around for those moments”

You step back inside your house “I wish you all the best in your research. I hope you achieve everything you’ve been missing. I really do”

And with that, you shut the door.

-

It took you a while but you got things back on track. You moved away from Gravity Falls, all the memories were too painful, and it hurt to even see Stanley, not that it was his fault. You reassured him that this was just something you had to do. You had gotten settled into a nice town in a nice apartment. You had started your new job teaching at a school, you started with elementary school, because you really did miss being around kids.

You were walking around the classroom as the kids worked on their morning bell work, when you noticed one kid, Jullian, had not been working but instead drawing. “Are you okay Jullian?” you asked him gently

“I don’t want to do this,” he says not looking up from his sketch

You look at his paper to see a pretty good sketch of a superhero “What are you drawing”

“Galactic Guardian,” he says simply “I like to draw, but I don’t like math” he showed you the drawing a little better “My sister knows math better than I do. and my dad tells my momma that I won’t ever figure it out” He spoke casually while shading in the character's costume “But no one gets mad at Galactic, he's good at everything”

You kneeled by his desk “This is a very good drawing St-Julian” You said softly “ Just like Galactic, you have strengths that can help you tackle anything, even math!”

Julian blinked “But I’m not a superhero in math.”

 “Maybe not yet. But remember how superheroes face challenges? They don’t give up, and they learn from every battle”

You point to a problem on his worksheet. “Let’s tackle this one together, step by step. If a superhero can face down a giant monster, I know you can face this math problem”

Jullian hesitated but then nodded, and you noticed a small flicker of determination igniting in him.

This is what you felt you had been missing. A place where those good moments were no longer few and far between.

// Tag list: @kawaii1369 @slay-thou-pookie @randombuddys @ppenisblog @doggosnoodles12 @velvetvulture

Thank you guys for reading! Let me know what else you would like to read! I am happy to take requests!

[harrysonlylover]

WAKE UP.

I’m not sure how I can put this into words or make you understand the current events. I’ve always been one to hide my private information for my own safety like everyone else on here, but that has to change today.

Most of you might hear this first from me, because western media is a bitch. I think we all know how “!srael” is a terr@rist state, and if you disagree in any shape or form, I’d like to congratulate you for being brainwashed by western propaganda.

You see, fighting for the freedom of Palestine is not a trend, it is a movement that needs action. What you may not know is that as a terr@rist state, “!srael” not only targets Palestine but many other countries as well.

Since october 9, Southern Lebanon has been targeted by “!srael” bombing villages under the excuse of targeting “m!l!tias”. To sum it up, over the past 2 months, we experienced breakage of sound barriers, heavy bombing and civilian deaths.

They exploded pagers that injured THOUSANDS, only to bomb a heavily populated area in the capital killing over 60 civilians including children and women, and they’re still under the rubbles.

Today, they attacked the South very heavily and are “asking” (more like forcing) the residents of the south and north to evacuate and their soldiers are calling it “mission Gaza 2”.

My world has always been different from many of you on here. I never thought that I’d reach a day where I’d wonder if I will wake up the next day or not. I have rage inside me enough to burn a nation and yet, I silently cry. My friends are displaced, the village where I spent my childhood in is being bombed. There are over 180 deaths and almost a thousand injury just from today’s bombing. This isn’t an escalation, this is war.

We are not savages, we’re educated and we shine abroad as great scientists, poets, scholars.

Even as you read this, you will never understand how this feels like, to wonder if you will live, and see your homeland get destroyed, and I hope from the bottom of my heart that you never will.

The USA is silent, UN is silent, Europe is silent. Stop believing elections, stop believing politicians. Everything is bigger than you could ever imagine.

Stop, please stop being desensitised to what is happening. You are not better than us. The only thing that sets a barrier between us is that your leaders have the upper hand and we have the resources and interests they want.

SHARE and speak up about Lebanon. Don’t let your kids sit and wonder years from now why no one stopped this because you are living it and the headlines of the newest pop song or celebrity gossip is not more important than sharing and showing everyone “!srael’s” terr@rism.

This may move you, or may not. But history repeats itself.

[akutasoda]

"i think i was born wanting more, i think i was born missing you"

--he always brushed you off, pushing you further and further to keep you out of the way. yet when he sees you with someone else, he lets the bitter jealousy get the best of him - and for the first time, he thinks with his heart, not his brain. but it's too late.

--warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight crack, angst no comfort, one-sided(?) pining, maybe ooc? wc - 1.6k

--a/n: rghhh ratio. i have no clue how to write for this man.

the intelligentsia guild. a branch of the IPC that focused on it's praised academics.

distinguished scholars worked alongside the up and comings, building their reputations to start a proper career in their respective fields. it was no surprise that the guild was full of all kinds of people from every different walk of life imaginable. ratio was one of such.

although a key difference between him and the rest of his colleagues was that this was his second choice. the doctor always dreamed of being acknowledged by nous - to feel their piercing gaze and know that in their view, he was worthy of their recognition. he wanted to be a member of ths genius society, the only way was to has that recognition, a one way ticket into the society.

but he wasn't selfish. ratio believed that everyone deserved knowledge, he spread his word through his lectures and publications - ensuring that others had the capacity to be something other than half-witted. he was prideful in his knowledge, but not to the extent to be considered arrogant. not enough to be recognised - some may disagree but even ratio couldn't help but be slightly arrogant or impatient around those that couldn't comprehend him.

he wasn't a scholar that worked for petty pride, and so nous wouldn't even spare him one glance. blocked from joining the genius society, ratio turned to the next best thing. the intelligentsia guild. an organisation that's entry requirement wasn't the acknowledgement of an aeon. accepting the second best was a constant reminder to him, everyday when he arrived at the guild, he would be reminded of his failure.

it would have to do however. his goals didn't align with that of the aeon he desperately craved the attention of, sooner or later ratio would have to come to terms with this.

but is holding on easier than letting go?

---✩

you and veritas were colleagues.

he was your first ever research partner at the guild - you don't think the looks of pity on your other colleagues faces when it was announced that you and ratio would be working together. surely this “dr ratio” wasn't that bad?

well in some way you'd been right. ratio clearly lived up to his prestigious reputation but very quickly you learnt just why most people preferred to not work with him. he didn't exactly want to work with anyone there anyway, but the guild's main leaders were fed up with him refusing.

to his credit, ratio was incredibly credible and pulled his weight with the research. it was less surprising that the project was practically completed in no time than the fact that you and ratio were compatible research partners.

they still felt pity toward you, the likelihood being that you were now the fallback for ratio's research partner - a fate that they wouldn't wish upon you.

the only issue with ratio was that he could be rather stuck in his ways. most often he believed that he was the correct one, even if you reached the same conclusion but through your own credited means, he would strongly insist that his way was superior.

sure there were other minor things that could make the scholar rather unbearable to work with but he always made results. that you could respect, but you did have to question if he could do so while still retaining a shred of decency to his colleagues - especially you as his main research partner.

gradually, over time spent mainly as his research partner, you became “close” with ratio. compared to hw he treated other colleagues, you looked like his closest friend. but to him, that couldn't be further from the truth.

in your eyes, he was something slightly closer than a simple colleague. the amount of time you spent with him seemed to justify such an assumption. however, ratio wasn't as chummy. he saw you as a simple colleague, albeit more intelligent than the rest of them, but a colleague nonetheless - a favorite at a stretch.

although it couldn't go unnoticed to both the two of you and other intelligentsia guild members, that you both started naturally drifting toward one another. noticeably more you than him, but curiously he never pushed you away.

mainly it was you talking to him while he worked or focused on whatever else captured his. at first you never minded, instead finding his company somewhat peaceful. but his lack of actual engagement made you feel slightly insecure about always hanging around him.

ratio barely acknowledged you when you were around. eventually you started figuring that he didn't want you around, that you were only inconveniencing him but he was too polite to tell you that directly. his blunt words and seeming lack of genuine interest convinced you so - and not so long after, you stopped talking to him, returning back to a strictly research partner relationship.

it didn't take him long to realize the distance you quickly put between the two of you. ratio wanted to know why. he didn't understand why you suddenly became so absent. but he wouldn't ask. his natural pride wouldn't let him, he was sure enough that it was temporary - perhaps you had become busy and had no spare time, even if it wasn't he was sure you'd come back to him eventually.

the doctor couldn't comprehend the fact that he “cared” for you. that all that time spent as research partners had led to him developing somewhat of a bond with you - it'd never happened before, so why now? and why of all people, was it you?

a newfound realization occurred to him. your distance gave him time to think, time to realize just how much you affected him. and he didn't like it.

to ratio, he didn't understand why he felt that way around you. you shouldn't have been any more than a colleague and yet you were becoming more to him. that was a weaknesses. he despised the fact that his brain was betraying him. forcing him to think of you and it made him stop. why did you make him feel this way?

naturally, because of the new distance between the two of you, you grew apart. becoming more like colleagues again rather than close acquaintances. at first, ratio thought it was for the best. you were meant to be a colleague, nothing more.

so why was he longing for your presence?

why did he perk up when he saw you walking toward him just to feel deflated and jealous when you walked straight past him to someone else?

ratio found himself always looking for you in a crowd, just to snap himself out of it when he realized what he was doing. what was wrong with him? the doctor cursed his brain for thinking about you constantly - this wasn't like him, he needed to snap out of it.

but he couldn't. day in and day out, the smallest convenience brought his thoughts back to you and he abhorred it. maybe he should've fought more to stop being assigned a research partner, if he did, you wouldn't be a problem for him.

ratio carried on living in his state of denial, still completely confident that you would return to him at some point and everything would go back to normal. however, the longer he waited the more you practically infected his thoughts.

but he wasn't willing to come to terms with his feelings. it was a useless endeavor to try and comprehend such simple chemical signals in the brain, nothing more. they would go away eventually. ratio just needed to grasp ahold of his brain again. these feelings were only fleeting.

afterall, ratio didn't love you. he didn't even see you as anything more than a colleague. but why did he wish he could?

---✩

ratio paced past a group of guild members but slowed when he picked out your name among their hushed whispers and giggles. one member caught how the doctor slowed and smiled at him.

“i didn't peg you for a gossip enjoyer dr.ratio” his colleague almost giggled

ratio sighed and shook his head, ready to pick up his pace again and leave - why should he care about what your up to anyway. or that was his plan until another member of the gossip group urged him to listen which, he did, his curiosity getting the better of him.

they explained how only moments ago one of your colleagues confessed their love to you - to which you claimed to reciprocate. ratio didn't bother hearing the rest, instead opting to hurry over to the location of the confession with more urgency than ever.

he got there just in time to see you two together.

bitter jealousy bubbled to the front of his mind. it was an ugly emotion that only served to taunt his mistake. it made him ball his fist, nails digging into his palms and a twinge of disgust graced his features. ratio caught himself however, dropping his fists, shoulders slumping and letting his features twist into a sorrowful pain.

he stared almost slack jawed as you walked further away, hand in hand with someone that wasn't him.

and for the first time, ratio felt stupid.

rest of the "series"

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn, @https-sourlimes

[oristian]

So how come we can tell that Elain wants azriel and is attracted to azriel but Eluciens claim they need Elain's POV to confirm she doesn't want Lucien??

Idk it's almost like thoughts and acts and verbal things she has said matter?? It's almost like... we don't need everyone and their mother's POV to tell very basic information??

Y'all acting like she is a complete black box just because we don't have her POV yet 😭😭

What if I said "oh we need Lucien's POV to tell he actual feels a bond and didn't orchestrate a fake mating bond to claim an Archeron sister after she got made?"

"But he wouldn't do that"

How am I supposed to know he wouldn't!! We don't have his POV either 🤪 he could be Koschei for all we know 🤷🏻‍♀️

And nobody better fucking bring up Feyre hating Rhys or Nesta kicking Cassian in the balls. Their words differed from their actions. They might've SAID they hated their love interests at the time, but their ACTIONS differed. Anyone who genuinely thought Feyre hated Rhys or Nesta hated Cassian is literally just lying atp because come on what do you mean you didn't pick up on that?? Nesta was willing to die for Cassian and Feyre was literally thinking Rhys was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Be so fr.

Elain's actions match her words. We don't need her POV to know that.

Good morning! This might be a long response, so hope you enjoy!

Elain Archeron is a book character. Books follow standards enacted by the stricture of narratives, and how stories are told overall—in short, the reader is being told something through a book. A story is told through settings, dialogue, characters, et cetera. While the reader may be able to create their own theories, pick up on literary devices, and generate predispositions, until the reader is fully informed by the intent of the author on page, it is speculation.

When people claim that we need Elain’s POV to understand how she is feeling towards Lucien, that is very much true. There is a plethora of reasons as to why she shifted her composure around him between ACOWAR and ACOSF. From asking if he is alright and inviting him to Velaris, to shrinking around him? Until we are in her inner monologue and seeing what she is seeing, the reader can only speculate. Is she now very horny for him, is the mating bond chafing when he’s around, did she have a vision of their future, is she wildly attracted to him, et cetera? The same way that people claim she is in love with Azriel is the same way we claim we need her POV—neither is true until Elain confirms it herself with her own thoughts, feelings, and words.

Now, I want to bring up “thoughts, actions and verbal things,” because, more often than not, it is misconstrued. The only instance where the reader might be swayed to believe that Elain feels anything for Azriel is the almost kiss in the bonus chapter. However, we only had Azriel’s POV. Compared to Wings and Embers bonus chapter with Nessian, the reader was lacking the female’s POV. With Nesta and Cassian, we read that both were feeling the pull towards each other in that chapter. In ACOSF, we were limited to just Azriel—why is that? As for the other lines of dialogue that are seemingly connected to Elriel, those are regarding Graysen. “I don’t want a male,” would also be applied to Azriel, no? “And that love would trump even a mating bond,” is about Graysen.

I have been asked before how I can confidently ship Elucien when Elain seemingly lost her “newfound boldness,” and, “shrunk in on herself,” when Lucien came during Solstice. While I do understand how some people can read that as a negative for the ship, I once again have to say that we do not know why either of those actions happened. There has been zero indication that Lucien is forcing himself on her, is bad for her, and/or is disrespecting her wishes, so why has Elain suddenly started acting like this? This is why we claim that we need her POV for all of these unanswered questions.

Essentially, Elain is a blank sheet of paper. Could she stay this newfound meek personality and live all her days in a small cottage with a garden, or will she revert back into her old personality and become the socialite that she once was? While the reader can understand some of her character, she is still more shifted towards the background and is lacking the substance that a fleshed out POV and aligned character development would offer to her. This is one of the reasons why so many people seemingly dislike her character, because she has not been able to explain her actions. This was similar to Nesta.

The example you brought up with Lucien and the bond needing clarification actually was solved very quickly in ACOMAF. When Feyre unleashed Helion’s spellcleaving magic and broke the bonds in Hybern, she would have broken any fake mating bond tied to Elain and Lucien. Feyre has also been inside of Lucien’s head while he was experiencing the tug of mating instincts. Elain has felt the tug of the bond and Lucien was able to experience her from the inside due to the bond. They both have experienced mating behavior towards each other. The reader has had a snippet of Lucien’s POV.

Feyre, Nesta and Elain are all similar in how they were reluctant to accept the bond at first—the only difference is that Elain is fully aware of the bond before she accepts it. Feyre and Nesta were stuffed into forced close proximity with both of their mates, which also differs from Elain, and her sisters also had access to their mates before they turned fae. Elain met Lucien the night she turned fae and had very little alone time with him. Feyre and Nesta both experienced firsthand the chaffing of the bond while being so close to their mates for so long, but Elain has not. Elain was in love and engaged to Graysen and was now suddenly tossed a fae male as her mate, while simultaneously losing her humanity? It is only reasonable that she would not be jumping for joy over this new revelation.

SJM is an author that uses similar patterns across her entire body of work. To say that we cannot compare how she wrote Feysand and Nessian to Elucien in the same series makes no sense to me. Now, I do believe that you have contradicted yourself in your paragraph regarding Feyre and Nesta. I agree, while they may have claimed that they wanted nothing to do with their mates, their actions showed the reader otherwise. Elain is similar with Lucien, however, she has not once said that she hated him, wanted him gone, wanted to reject the bond, et cetera. Anything she has said against wanting a fae male was because she wanted Graysen and to return to her mortal life. Her actions towards Lucien have included worriment for his safety, relief that he is alright, inviting him to Velaris, keeping all of his Solstice gifts, the half step, et cetera. Someone who planned on rejecting the bond with their mate would not have done any of the above.

If the reader does not need Elain’s POV, why would she need an entire book? If her thoughts, feelings, and actions are fully explained from another’s POV, why would she need to explain herself in her own inner monologue? She already has hobbies, friends, a lover, a home, joy, purpose, and family—what would be the point of her having a book?

I so hope I managed to answer your question. Have a good day!

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

To clarify,I don't believe in porn makes you evil and I don't believe in like fantasies are evil. I'm pulling this quote off Scarleteen "“If we aren’t both careful and creative we can get stuck in fantasies that don’t mature and politicize with us."" I'm also new to being about to vote, so I'm trying to be careful about what I consume and what stereotypes media perpetuate. Like I'm not moralizing about kink or anything, and my ask was how can I get aroused with media wo my kinks or wo media

hi anon, welcome back! I'm genuinely very glad to hear some follow up.

for anybody who doesn't stay vigorously up to date with all of my anons, this ask is a continuation of this one.

so I went and checked out the Scarleteen articles you mentioned in your first message, or at least I tried to. How to Approach Sexual Fantasies and Desire on Your Own Terms is here, and while I couldn't find anything with the exact title 50 Shades of Abuse, we do have 50 Shades of BS - How to Tell the Difference Between Kink and Abuse as well as 50 Shades Crappier: On Selling Abuse for Valentine's Day, both of which cover how the 50 Shades series isn't a great model of real, responsibly-practiced BDSM.

now, here's what I didn't see in any of these articles: an assertion that anybody needs to, as you've decided to do, avoid any work that depicts anything less than perfectly healthy sexual practices.

the closest we get to that is the quote by adrienne maree brown from How to Approach Sexual Fantasies, which you mention above. now, here's the thing: first of all, I actually disagree pretty substantially with brown's assertions that one's sexual fantasies need to "politicize." I know what my politics are; the fiction that I enjoy can't change that, because I don't have the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair. I actually just talked about that earlier today in another ask.

(also, and this may be an unpopular opinion, but adrienne maree brown is kind of a dork who doesn't really say much of anything in Pleasure Activism that Audre Lorde didn't already say better and more succinctly, and I personally lost interest in Pleasure Activism pretty much the moment she casually dropped that she practices reiki healing because that's a pseudoscientific alternative medicine that doesn't do shit or fuck. but I digress.)

listen, I'm not trying to peer pressure or bully you into watching anything you don't want to watch. your porn consumption is up to you. but what you're doing here is absolutely moralizing, I think maybe because of an underlying assumption that media that involves sex is just, like, innately different than any other type of media, which is in itself an idea that stems from sex negativity!

I don't know, let's just try to play out a little thought exercise here. like, would you consider it reasonable if somebody told you that they've decided not to read or watch anything that depicts problematic behavior because they don't want to normalize it. like, first of all, they're never watching anything but Bluey again. except actually not even Bluey because I just remembered about Bluey in the genocide, which actually makes for a great illustration of how nonsensical and impossible it is to try to only engage with media that is 100% ideologically pure.

and again: that's fine! that's literally fine! it is 100% okay to watch or read or play things with morals that don't totally 100% align with yours. it's okay to enjoy them, even. it's a lot healthier than trying to avoid upsetting or incongruous things entirely, because that gives you the chance to actually think about it rather than trying to shut it out entirely! that article actually provides an entire list of questions you can run through with yourself to critically analyze the things you watch if you feel so inclined! that's a much better skill to practice than avoidance!

I get that when you're new to sex, as you said in the previous ask, this might seem daunting, but your brain isn't just a sponge that will uncritically soak up and adopt anything you expose it to. you very clearly have the ability to research, differentiate between fiction and real life, and form your own opinions! and it is absolutely fine if you want to just watch porn with your kinks!

like, listen, I see what the question is, and the easiest answer is just. do whatever gets you off.

[bianca-mii]

One of the most iconic kisses between our guitarists from the 2022 tour. I can't write as beautifully as @woodswallow, but I made this gifset as I thought there is a very interesting thing to point out.

The Auslaender outro started almost as usual, with Richard feeling the music probably somewhat more.

But this moment shows one massive difference from arguably every other Auslaender's kiss: Richard is not smiling. He's not focused on seducing Paul with that evil grin. There's no tension, no predatory stare. He is... sad? He looks Paul in the eye, and while Paul is in that playful-teasing-I'm-not-that-easy-to-get mode of his, in which he rather avoids eye contact with Richard, he must realize something is off with the lead guitarist...

But they both go for the kiss. In the beginning, I thought maybe Richard was sad, at least partially, because during some of the 2022 shows Paul seemingly didn't feel like having that little smooch. From what I've read, Paul is very uncomfortable with PDA and, in general, tries to keep his private life as far from the public eye as possible. 2019 kisses were fun and outrageous, which Paul loves, and also had a political impact. But by the half of the 2022 tour, it was obvious nobody cared about any political impact anymore and the guitarists kissed just because they like it. Richard doesn't care if people are watching, he may even like it better that way, so perhaps he couldn't entirely understand Paul's hesitation. Also, on the previous show, still in Europe, their kiss was very quick, too quick for Richard's liking:

He made that gesture with his mouth as if he wanted to say: "Ahh, it ended before I could even taste it!" On which Paul said something, maybe like: "I've told you already: quick pecks - for the audience, the actual kisses - only you and me, no witnesses..." And Richard was like: "Oh, okay, but a boy can dream, can't he?"

Going back to Chicago's kiss: so it's not the case that Richard is sad because he thinks Paul wants no public kisses: they go for it as usual. I also don't think he's sad because he'd prefer the kiss to be longer - that doesn't sound like an actual reason to feel sad. It has to be something else.

Whatever it is, Richard tries to pull away first as he probably thinks the kiss will be over by that time anyway. Indeed, it's usually been (if not any other time) Paul who pulls away first; I also think Richard's hand on the back of Paul's neck used to be there for that extra control, to keep him in place just a little bit longer, but it wasn't hugely sufficient. This time though, again, Richard thinks the kiss will be over just after a moment. But what happens next? Especially from this angle, it seems very clear: Paul doesn't let go. And his reaction is really intense: he keeps his lips locked with Richard's, his right hand, put on Richard's shoulder, grabs it more firmly; you can see all his body leaning on his partner; if you look at his butt, it slightly goes up as he maybe even gets on tiptoe.

I remember reading suggestions Richard was that surprised because maybe Paul slipped him some tongue. I'd love to think that, but what I believe really happened was that Paul sucked hard on Richard's lip to keep their mouths together as Richard tried to pull away.

This is not the best quality, but it sort of confirms that theory: you can briefly see Richard's mouth, and then how it literally gets sucked:)

Paul pulls away when it's over but also slightly pushes Richard: "now, that should do!", but Richard, despite experiencing a massive WTF?! moment, remains sober enough to put some pressure on Paul's nape, doesn't let him go, and pulls him back close again, for a hug. He also starts to laugh so heartily that it makes my heart melt. Perhaps he's realized what face he's just made and laughs, just a little bit, at himself too. Paul, on the other hand, briefly returns the hug, but then is all like: "there, there, don't overdo it, babe." He gives Richard a few pats on the back, like the male friends with no benefits would do - he is back into his no PDA mode, and puts his right hand back on Richard's shoulder, this time trying to push him away.

But now Richard does not have it: "nah love, not so fast, you should have expected now I need to thank you for what you've just done... *mwah*". Another kiss on the lips, brief one this time, and finally Paul can go, obviously showing to everybody: "look! Just look at this little naughty thing right there!", Richard is doing something similar for a moment, too (what a complete pair of dorks:D).

So, I imagine Richard was so surprised because Paul not only didn't want to end the kiss quickly but literally forced it to be longer. I love this moment so much for two reasons: it totally makes sense Paul is uncomfortable with PDA, but as soon as Richard feels worse, or Paul gets sentimental himself (like by the end of tours), Paul stops thinking about any discomfort and goes for it with no hesitation, which pretty much says that comforting Richard is simply much more important for him. I think we saw it here, we saw it during Puppe 2023 or this tour after the German football team lost.

What I also more than love, is how Paul's little mouth-to-mouth treatment really brings Richard back to life and turns the night into the day for him (no wonder, who wouldn't be more than alive if they just got a kiss from Landers himself?). Richard is over the moon here, and seeing him undergo such a 180-degree mood switch is an almost otherwordly experience...

Here's the whole video cropped by me, original credit to till_lindemann_pics on ig. One of the other gifs by @davecumstaine, the other one - I can't tell, I downloaded it a long time ago and can't find it here anymore, many apologies;(

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

You truly don’t believe that most women can genuinely love their husbands? Do you think the same is true in the inverse?

No, I believe that most women can fall in love, I just don't observe them worshiping the man they are with like a god for decades until death, the way a lot of men will worship a woman. There are some fairly simple evolutionary reasons for this, if you need me to go into them.

This particular difference between the sexes is, interestingly enough, one of the main reasons the attempts to make women heroes in modern films have failed so badly: the male hero has, for many thousands of years, always been a sacrificial role, in which he offers up his life on behalf of the tribe, which they traditionally reward after his death with honors and public gratitude. But in the western tradition we don't feel good thinking of women as sacrifices on behalf of men, and we can't sell that convincingly to the people.

In other words, if a male cowboy or astronaut or cop or fireman or whoever dies at the end of the film to save a woman and her children, we feel he has done good, and can leave the cinema oddly elated. Whereas, if a woman is beaten to death or torn apart or burned alive in order that a man she doesn't know gets to live, we don't feel that trade has been worth it, and we feel that film's a downer.

The feminist ideologues pushing for all these kick-ass action heroines misunderstand the 'hero' label as simply a nice shiny thing they want, because they see some men have it, but the thought of the women they are writing sacrificing anything never even occurs to them. So, instead of creating female counterparts to male heroes, they create extraordinarily selfish, belligerent and unlikeable Mary Sues, who simply beat up and kill men to get their way, and that is what is now being presented as a positive role model to young girls, just making the world worse one awful film at a time.

The root biological truth, that we all innately know but never openly acknowledge, is that males are disposable, and women are not, because women bear the children, and so must be protected more than men. Both men and women view women as more valuable than men, unless that man is supplying something extra and extraordinary to the tribe (or individual woman), and even then, that just brings his worth up to something approaching the level of care we have for women.

Another way of putting it: If King Charles III dies jumping on a bomb to save a mother walking by, we will think of him as a good dude. Whereas if Queen Elizabeth II had died leaping out of her carriage and jumping on a bomb to save the life of one of her footmen, we'd likely think of her as mentally ill, as it would be so outside of our hierarchy of values and expected behaviours.

Just some thoughts.