#the point is. that they’re so fucking Messy and should just talk to each other

[milflewis]

uhhh sorry hi ummm please say more about a valewis sex tape? (⓿_⓿) if you feel so inclined?

v v unfleshed out thoughts but !!! i was talking with ag one day and this was spawned into being. so. mb they do one every year??? after nico and the whole brocedes drama the sponsors are concerned about Team Unity and Keeping the Team Whole and so . what shows that two ppl like each other more than them having sex and it being filmed?? rock solid logic

the one in 2017 is v stilted and polite. it is. essentially. two colleagues having sex which. fair. that is what it is. but lewis is also unfairly beautiful and valtteri is only human and valtteri has the prettiest eyes lewis has ever seen and the way he blushes —

it’s not a Disaster is what i’m saying. so they do it again. and again.

and mb it become more and more marketable as ppl love the passion, makes it feel real and intimate. like theyre intruding on something that the drivers havent shown the rest of the world yet unlike everything else.

and then! it’s 2018 and valtteri’s worst year yet and lewis is so. he’s so gentle. does it so he covers valtteri’s face. this is the year val fucks him and not the other way around and lewis pulls him in so val’s face is pressed against his neck and the camera is on lewis’s and and and

(that being one of val’s worst times in his life and he’s so scared of getting fired and hes still on one year contracts. and he has to film this. its so fucked up. and lewis understanding and trying to make it up in the only way he feels he can.)

lewis who has spent his entire career exposed but is secure in this team in a way that val has never been and probably will never be but this. this is smth he can give him.

and then valtteri leaves the team and sponsors get pissed.

(the tape from 2021 was smth else. the adoration. the hot tenderness. the desperate need on the screen bc even tho neither of them had said it they knew this was their last year together and they had never talked about these. never done it outside of this room in hq. wanting to crawl into each other’s skin so they never have to let go and the viewer can Feel this)

and 2022 is just. lewis thinking valtteri is so much happier without these weird fucking obligations with merc ... maybe he’s too embarrassed about wanting him still to approach him past a shoulder pat in the pitlane.

until toto says 'hey i told valtteri we’d let him hitch a ride on the jet' and lewis spending half of it on his phone ignoring valtteri. who has NO clue about lewis' inner turmoil, thinks merc is better off without him even if they seem to have such a weird run of bad luck now and is content to stay in peaceful quiet sitting beside lewis on the jet until he can’t bear it and casually makes a weak joke about lewis and george's tape.

now! it could go two ways. either lewis put a stop to the tapes after valtteri left or he made one with george.

cause you could have lewis and george make a tape and valtteri is jealous and hating that he’s jealous bc it’s such a fucked up thing that they had to do and it’s bad enough that he Misses it and now he’s hating lewis for doing it with someone else when he knows lewis doesn’t have a choice. and then lewis feels guilty and he’s upset about That bc it’s not like he CHOSE george. it’s not like he wanted this but it took way more effort that it should’ve to not call out val’s name during the tape and george is fine. he’s funny and has good takes on the car and he’s Fine. but he’s not val and lewis doesn’t even want val back bc he’s finally happy and he looks so good in alfa and they treat him so well but he also does kinda want him back bc he misses him and it’s a Mess

OR . lewis puts a stop to the tapes and toto isn’t stupid. he sees lewis after valtteri leaves. sees him after the shitshow that was abu dhabi. sees the look in his eyes. and does not push. and then valtteri is left to wondering why now did the tapes stop. what does that mean. does it mean anything???? and suddenly noticing that lewis isn’t really looking at him that much.

(george in the bg like. you guys made sex tapes ?????????)

or or. what if they started making the tape and lewis couldn’t do it.

he couldn’t walk into that room that they only went in to make these. this room that he hates but it’s the only place in the whole world where he got valtteri like this and mb that makes him a terrible person for missing it. for wanting it back. but he can’t go in when he’s not there.

and mb lewis manages to get through it anyway and IS into banging george in a purely physical way and he feels guilty for liking it because its not valtteri, but they have to please sponsors SOMEHOW. and then he sees valtteri in bahrain and is like. toto PLEASE delete that fucking tape.

and valtteri just seems. like. normal?? lewis gets mad at him deep down like, how the fuck can you be all chill and cool about this. how dare you move on while i'm a mess!!!

he doesnt realize how carefully valtteri is sidestepping discussion of the tape when theyre hanging out. valtteri does NOT want to talk about it. he stuffs it down and turns into a fake australian. cycling with the kiwis. sampling wines with daniel. practising denial like the good homosexual that he is!

and seb says that he looks like a pornstar which lewis does NOT know how to deal with bc ???? what does that mean ???? is val making these tapes with other ppl ?????

so things go from valtteri always coming up to lewis on a race weekend to just. lewis CANNOT find him no matter how hard he tries. sidles up to daniel like hey have you seen-?

daniel, eyes shifting: euueueoohhhhhh ... no

lewis mb getting the message that val doesn’t want to see him and that’s. that’s Fine. lewis is so Fine. the car is shit and it’s kind of killing him and the media are dicks and valtteri doesn’t want to talk to him and seb is retiring and lewis is so Fine :( :) :( :)

[pedges]

the one where things are messy

pairing: joel miller x reader (no apocalypse and accidentally on purpose gender neutral)

summary: you leave joel a drunk voicemail.

content: drunk reader. like, drunk. miscommunications, angst, but mostly just a silly little time. reader is joel's neighbor of several years. gratuitous use of the word "fuck." let me know if i've missed anything!

a/n: this is 100% based off friends the tv show. the one where ross finds out. i have not written in a very long time, so i apologize in advance! this is just a nonsensical drabble that ended up being 5k words, so please enjoy <3

The thing is, Joel doesn’t like cats. 

Joel doesn’t hate cats, but he has never expressed any sign of liking cats, at least not enough to warrant the sudden desire to adopt one. With his girlfriend. Who he plans on asking to move in with him. When he tells you, it’s like he just ordered an airstrike to your chest, and you’re thinking maybe you should have slashed his tires before he went to Dallas on business for two weeks and came back with a sweet little thing shacked up in his heart. 

It’s just that when Tommy and you got drunk together a few days after he left, sitting on the couch in Joel’s living room while Tommy played world’s worst babysitter, he had dropped the first of what now seems to be a series of inconvenient bombshells. 

“Don’t get rom-coms, they’re real fuckin’ dumb,” he had been saying, adamantly complaining about your choice of movie. When Harry Met Sally was too cute and too good to receive his vitriol, but the alcohol in your system tore down your usual defense mechanisms. All you could really do was roll your eyes. “Just fuckin’ talk to each other, maybe, maybe this shit wouldn’t take so long.” 

“The hell do you know about communicating, Tommy?” you said, and though you were mostly teasing, you had to bite back a remark about his past relationships never making it past the six month mark. Still, you kept the levity in your voice, the drunken grin on your lips. “Swear, you and Joel think you know everything. Must be an annoying Miller thing.”

“Know more than you,” he said with a scoff, then a hiccup. Taking the last swig of his beer, he set the empty bottle down on the coffee table and looked at you. “Way fuckin’ more than Joel. M’like—the fuck is the word—ret-i-cant. Always watchin’. You wouldn’t get it.” 

“Reticent, and I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.” 

“Bull,” Tommy insisted. “Cause—‘cause I know if Harry and Sally just admitted shit from the getgo—they’da saved so much fuckin’ time.”

You wanted to argue. You want to tell him that was the point of the story, of the insistence for two people who very clearly wanted each other being brought back together each time they tried to stay away from one another. You wanted to tell Tommy that sometimes difficult things were beautiful, and romantic, and heartfelt, and great. But before you could, he was grumbling something as he sank into the couch, something that sounded like, “S’like I kept tellin’ Joel, tired of him tiptoein’ ‘round you.” 

“What?” you said in lieu of everything else running through your quickly sobering mind. 

“Ah, shit.” 

It only took a couple threats of bodily harm for Tommy to tell you that Joel had feelings for you. Keyword: had. He stopped asking about it a while ago, stopped caring when it was obvious Joel “wasn’t goin’ to do a damn thing,” so don’t ask him if he knew more than what he did a few months ago. All of it was quickly followed by pleads to not say shit and that he was sorry he said anything at all. 

You wondered what he would have said if you told him you'd wanted Joel Miller since the moment you laid eyes on him. 

But, you didn’t. And a week and a half later, when Joel came back talking up a storm about an old flame he met up with in Dallas, how fate would have it that she was moving back to Austin—well, needless to say—Tommy’s inability to keep a secret meant nothing now. 

Now, six months later, you’re left to wonder if it hurt Joel this bad when you went on dates, and had partners, and did everything you could to drown out the feelings you had for him. You’d think finding out he had feelings for you—but was now in a relationship with a woman who didn’t playfully (annoyingly) bicker with him, or snort, or make fun—would kill the ones you had for him. But the universe is cruel, and your heart has never really been one to quit. 

Part of you feels bad for thinking it wouldn’t last. Well, not thinking—hoping. But it did, and you realize woefully that you’ve missed your chance with Joel Miller—the man you have spent too many years pining after, too many nights thinking that his brand of affection meant more than he was letting on, and buried too many sorrows in glasses of wine or bottles of beer over. But worst of all, you realize that Tommy was right. 

So, he tells you he wants her to move in with him and Sarah one Saturday evening on his porch. Then he tells you she wants a cat. And you say you’re happy for him. 

“You, uh, don’t think it’s too…soon?” he asks then, like he’s looking to you for a reason to back out. Every fiber of your being is aching to give him one, especially with the way he looks at you with those big browns of his, but the words scratch at your throat hard enough that they don’t make their way out. Instead, you shake your head slowly, forcing a shrug as you sip on the coffee Joel so tenderly prepared for you—the way you like it; he didn’t even have to ask. 

“I think,” you start, though these words aren’t any less sharp than the ones you truly want to say, “if you’re happy, you should do what you want.” 

“You ever picture me with a cat?” Joel snickers. He wears the gentlest smile, enough of one to form those crinkles by his eyes that you love so much. 

“I think you’d look adorable with a cat,” you tell him, and it might be the first true thing you’ve said all night. You picture it, a purring cat curled on his chest, and someone he loves at his side. In your mind, you can’t help but put yourself in that spot. “But,” you continue, “can’t say I’ve ever thought of you actually getting one. You’re more of a…hm. German shepherd guy, maybe even a lizard.” 

Joel laughs—that hearty, full, intoxicating laugh of his. It floods your veins and gives you goosebumps. If the world were to fall to ruins tomorrow, you’d survive on the memory of it alone, you think. 

“Can’t say I disagree with you,” he says then, a leftover grin still curled on his lips, and you want to do anything in your power to keep it there. But then he gets lost in thought, and you watch it soften. It doesn’t disappear completely, but the fact that it’s gone so quickly makes you ache. He speaks again, voice soft as he says, “Guess I just want to make her happy. Lot of things stopped bein’ about me a long time ago, I think.” 

Your heart cinches. Of course he’d say something like that. Of course he’d go and utter words that remind you why you fell in love with him in the first place. And god, that realization hits hard. You are quite, disgustingly in love with Joel. Though it stings, and you’re going to go home and lick your wounds for the hundredth time soon, you get what he means. You stayed silent when he got back from Dallas for the same reason—the smile on his face when he talked about someone he might truly, genuinely like. 

That, and because the someone wasn’t you. 

-

You pull up your britches. 

You have no other choice, you decide, because you’re young, and you’re an adult, and you can get over someone without feeling like you’re going to die. You use your little black book (read: an old Lisa Frank notepad) to call up the fling you had last winter. He’d wanted you, badly, but because there was a night where you thought Joel might’ve kissed you, you never called back. It seems stupid now, looking back. 

But, you thank your lucky stars, or one man’s utter desperation, that he’s still single and he still wants you. He takes you out to a nice restaurant, in a nice suit, and nice shoes. The conversation isn’t even bad, and he’s putting your drinks on his tab. The second one in, you think maybe this could work. 

It’s when you lose count that things go bad. 

“I don’t even think Joel likes cats,” you’re slurring to this poor man, who is desperately scanning the restaurant for a waiter, a check, and a way out of your ramblings about Joel’s love life. You can’t tell if you’re crying or not, though it really feels like you want to. Because one moment you were having a nice time, and the next someone was ordering Joel’s drink—whiskey on the rocks, with a twist—at the table over and you weren’t able to keep him out of your mind from that point on. 

It’s ridiculous, because it’s not Joel’s Drink, it’s A Drink—one that Joel only ever orders, but you could see someone in a worn down green and gray flannel and wonder when Joel Miller became such a trendsetter. Still, nothing can stop you from ordering one yourself, and then another, and then another. It’s like you’re trying to flood your senses with Joel Joel Joel because you know it’ll never be him sitting across from you with the intention of taking you home and maybe kissing you outside your door.

Though, if you weren’t gone by your fourth whiskey, you’d see that your date has lost any and all intentions of that manner. It’s probably not even because you’re drunk, it’s because you’re still wearing Joel’s name on your lips like it’s going out of style. 

“Like—like, I can’t just tell Joel, no, y’know? Or, I don’t think you should get a cat with a woman you had a thing with before you met the mother of your child, and especially shouldn’t have her move in with you after six months. But I want to. Because he’s smarter than this, and I don’t think it’s the right move, especially because of Sarah, and Tommy, ugh, Tommy. Idiot. They’re both idiots. Joel especially, methinks.” 

You don’t know when your date finally flagged down the waiter, or when he dropped you off at home, or when you got inside and picked up your landline. You especially don’t know when you dialed Joel’s number and left him a voicemail when he inevitably didn’t answer. 

All you know is that you mixed your alcohols that night, and you’re probably going to wake up in some version of hell in the morning, but it seems like falling asleep has never been so easy before. 

—

Hell is an understatement. You don’t get sick, but you wish you could throw up your brain, or at least the part of it that still gets headaches like this. It’s with the most gut wrenching revelation that you don’t have any ibuprofen, or any recollection of the night before.  

For the time being, it’s truly the least of your worries. The most of them are getting rid of your life threatening headache. So, after making yourself as presentable as you can, you trudge across the street to Joel’s house—it’s because his house is closer than the drugstore three blocks down. Not because seeing his face would make you feel better anyways. 

“Aren’t you a beauty this afternoon,” Joel laughs when he opens the door, because really, you look like death, and you hadn’t even realized it was past one o’clock. You’re grateful it’s Saturday, and Sarah has soccer practice right now, because she looks up to you, and the last thing you need is for her to see you like this. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, shoving your way past him despite his teasing. He doesn’t mind, and you know he doesn’t. If the smile still on his face is anything to go by. It’s then you realize that yeah, okay, seeing him does make you feel better. Even if it’s just by a fraction. 

“Thought you left your partyin’ days in college,” he continues with his teasing. “Let me guess: you came over here to raid my medicine cabinet.” 

By the time he closes his front door and turns around, you’re already sinking into his plush couch, giving him a look with raised brows that could only mean, You mean you’re going to raid your medicine cabinet, for me. 

“Ah,” he says. Any other moment, your heart would stutter at the ease in which he reads you. Now, your heart is threatening to fail for an entirely different reason. “Got it. Be right back.” 

Joel sticks by his word. He comes back, not just with painkillers, but with water, warmed up coffee, and one of the store-bought muffins you love so much. If you weren’t dying, you’d hug the man. If you weren’t so smart, you’d probably even kiss him. 

“Don’t die on me, alright? Need you around for shenanigans and such,” Joel tells you, leaving you to your devices on his couch. The pain meds go down, and the coffee does wonders from just one sip. You allow yourself to lie on the couch, pillow over your face to block out the harsh light. It seems that as the seconds pass, and by some miracle, you start to feel more and more at ease. Fragments of last night come back slowly, but not enough to piece together the entire puzzle. 

You drank a lot, that much is clear. 

It’s not until you hear a series of beeps from the kitchen, where Joel keeps his landline and answering machine, do the cogs in your brain start cranking a little harder. One voicemail plays over the speaker, something about work that makes Joel sigh and skip it before he can play it all the way through. 

Beeeeep. 

“Heeeeello, Joel. Hi, hello, howdy. It’s me.” 

Joel calls out, “Did you call me last night?” 

You sit up in record time. 

It comes rushing back. 

“I just don’t see why he can’t get something that doesn’t live so long. Like a hamster. Or goldfish. Or a fruit fly. It’s just so—“

“Listen! Listen. I don’t know who Joel or Tommy or Sarah are. You sound—hung up. But if you really want my advice? Get some closure. You clearly have feelings for this guy and you won’t get over him until you do.” 

“Closure! Oh, you’re a genius!” 

“Joel,” you call over the sound of your own drunken voice, dread now filling your body to the fucking brim. But it seems like your body can’t move fast enough. “Joel, hang up, hang it up, hang it up.”

“I just—just wanted to call and tell you I am so happy for you. And your future cat. And I think you should name it Frank. And because I am giving you names, that means I am getting closure—“

You can hear your heartbeat sounding against your eardrums, but feel it falling to the ground as you finally muster up the memory of how to work your legs. But by the time you’re stumbling into the kitchen, you can hear the worst of the voicemail that has Joel’s face drained of any possible readable emotion. You start praying for the ground to swallow you whole and munch your bones. It would be a more peaceful way to go than this. 

“Because you’re over me, I am over you, my sweet Joel. That’s right. I am over you. How’s that for closure?” 

The machine beeps, and then the heaviest silence enters the kitchen. 

Seconds, minutes, maybe even years pass as you stand in the doorway, looking at Joel looking at the answering machine. Then at you. 

“You’re…over me?” he finally says. You swallow the softball that had lodged itself in your throat and almost choke on it. “When, uh, when were you under me?” 

Suddenly, you think the whole life flashing before your eyes thing is true. Because you feel like you’re dying, and all you can think about is every happy moment you’ve had surrounded by Joel. The first time you met, the way Sarah took a liking to you, the unlikely friendship you formed with his brother. You think of all the nights spent on Joel’s porch, sometimes talking, but most times in such a genuinely comfortable silence, where you could do nothing but enjoy each other’s presence. You think of all the fleeting touches, lingering glances, pet names reserved just for you—and how you doubted all the thoughts that they could mean something more. 

You don’t know what hurts more—the fact that, according to Tommy, they did, or that now they didn’t. 

But most of all, you think of how when you were searching for a home several years ago, you didn’t expect to find it in the family of a man named Joel Miller. 

And you didn’t expect to lose it in the worst way possible. 

When you remember where you are, what is happening, and realize that you haven’t actually died, you let out a pathetic little noise. Halfway between a whimper and the words you can’t yet form. 

“What, uh—what did you mean, over me?” Joel finally asks. He’s never been one to beat around the bush, but god, you wish just this time he would. In fact, you wish he’d pretend that this never happened. But you know better. You know there’s no ignoring this. 

“I—“ you barely manage to choke out. Because truly, what do you say? Against your better judgment, you opt for the truth. “I…may or may not have feelings,” you say, and then, “For you. Tommy told me you—you used to feel the same.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.”

“…And you’re over me?” 

You wince. Maybe drunk-you convinced yourself so briefly that saying it would make it true. But by the weight of your heart, and the way it feels like there’s been barbed wire wrapped around it, gripping it tight, you know any answer besides No would be a lie. But because you can’t really bring yourself to say it, not with the way tears threaten to burn your eyes any second now, you instead say, “I don’t know.” 

It seems though, Joel wanted so desperately for you to say yes. By the way he jumps into action, grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter and making a break for it, he wanted you to say Yes, I’m completely over you. But you didn’t, and now he’s leaving you alone in his own house. 

-

You don’t speak for a week. 

You’re not exactly sure who’s avoiding who. You just know you’re wallowing in something that feels akin to lava that refuses to swallow you whole. Inside you there’s this ache, like there’s an empty space where someone should be inside your heart. It feels like three empty spaces, actually, and you had never weighed the consequences of losing Joel before. Part of you wishes you could have just gotten rid of your feelings for him a long time ago. Collecting the evidence now, though, told you there was no easy way to do that. Maybe quitting him cold turkey would have done the trick, or moving to Antarctica. But apparently, when you fell in love with Joel, you fell in love with his entire family, and three people was a hell of a lot harder to give up than one. 

In fact, on day seven, you’re stealthing your way back inside your home after a trip to the grocery store, like you have been all week, when you hear a familiar voice call your name. You turn to see Sarah across the street, standing at the backdoor of Tommy’s truck in her soccer uniform, waving at you with this sad little smile on her face. One that says she doesn’t know what’s going on, just that she hasn’t seen you in a while, and you realize that this is the longest you’ve gone without speaking to her since you first met her. 

You look around like you’re going to get caught committing a crime when you send the most timid wave back. It ends up feeling like a crime anyways when the face you’ve been aching to see comes out of the house, followed by his brother, and he follows Sarah’s line of sight. Meeting his eye is a serrated knife slicing through you, jagged, and harsh, and no clean cuts. 

But what hurts the most is when he opens Sarah’s door and all but forcefully guides her inside the truck, like he’s ushering her away from a bad thing. You think maybe he is. 

You rush inside afterwards and think of ways to never leave your house again. 

Hours later, you’re sitting on your couch watching another ridiculous rom-com, the only comfort you’ve found, with perpetual tears brimming your eyes. Tommy really was fucking right, wasn’t he? Had there been some inkling of communication, you wouldn’t be here. But there wasn’t, and you are, and it sucks—somehow, it seems like this will never not hurt. 

At ten o’clock, there’s a knock at your door. It makes you jump, mostly because this sense of knowing dread fills your body—like you know who it is before you can even open it, because you do. When Joel is standing on the other side, those big brown eyes of his full of something you can’t make out, he asks if he can come in. You aren’t even sure he’d listen if you said no, so you say yes. 

He steps inside, you close the door, and there’s a beat of silence before, “Sarah was askin’ about you all day.” 

You stand at your door, hands together as you toy with your own fingers nervously. Your heart is racing and your mind is reeling, but most of all, there’s this resounding ache echoing throughout your entire body. 

“Sorry,” is all you can really say in return. 

“I didn’t get a cat,” Joel says then. Your heart jolts at the mention. 

“Oh.” You look down at your hands. “Interesting.” 

“No, not interestin’.” When Joel speaks this time, he almost sounds angry. Frustrated, maybe, but he doesn’t sound happy, especially not with you. When you force yourself to look up, he has the face to match—brows furrowed, pout on his lips, gaze firm. “I should have a cat right now. I should have a movin’ truck outside my house, I should be living with my girlfriend—instead I’ve got a daughter askin’ too many questions, a shit talkin’ brother, and I’m standin’ inside your living room angry as all hell right now.” 

“Angry?” you say. He absolutely just said too many words with too many implications, but that’s the one you happen to get caught up on. Mostly because it lights a fire in you. Part of you thinks he has every right to be angry, but the other part feels justified in your own anger. “I’m sorry, why the hell are you angry with me?” 

“Because,” Joel responds quickly, voice harder, louder. He looks as if he didn’t expect you to fight back, but what a dumb presumption to have made. “Because you had no fuckin’ right to tell me you felt something about me.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Joel,” you spit back, voice dripping with sarcasm, but really? You are. 

“No, it’s not fuckin’ fair, and you don’t fuckin’ get it.” Joel steps forward, and for the first time, he does look genuinely angry. But after looking at him for a second longer, you realize it’s not that. He’s hurt. “I was doin’ fine before you came along with that mess. I was doin’ fuckin’ fantastic before I found out about you!” 

“I was doing great before I found out about you!” you shout back even though you weren’t doing great before. Not even close. Still, you want to stay angry, but your voice betrays you. “You think it was easy to find out you used to feel the same way about me? You think it was easy watching you be all happy with someone else, huh?”

“Oh, like I haven’t done it a thousand times, darlin’.” Joel’s words are sharp.

“You never said anything!” Yours are too. 

“There was never a good fuckin’ time,” he says coldly. Your own blood begins to turn icy in your veins as he huffs angrily. 

“And now is?” you respond coolly, before your walls begin to crumble. They had a while ago, actually, but now you’re resorting to kicking the rubble around. “Why did you come over here, Joel? To rub it in my face, tell me that you’re just—just going to get rid of whatever you felt?”

There’s a flash of pain on Joel’s face before he resolves to a glower at you. “I was happy.” He says your name, broken and small. “And I’ve been doin’ it for a helluva long time, sweetheart. I can keep doing it now.” 

Even though it truly does sound like he’s trying to convince himself of his own words, the suffocating pain in your chest is becoming too much to bear. So you point towards your door. “Then go.” 

“Fine,” he spits, stomping towards the exit at your command. 

“Fine!” 

Before you know it, he walks out, your door slams, and he’s gone. 

You finally reach a crossroads. As tears brim your eyes, you realize that this is it, isn’t it? You were an asteroid that missed Joel by a mile, and now you were sentenced to a life drifting aimlessly in space. You missed out on a place to land—this is it. 

Moments pass. You do whatever you can to soak in everything that unraveled before you, and there’s no hope in picking up the pieces. No hope in weaving them back together. Before you can let out a pathetic little sob and stalk off towards your room, you suddenly hear footsteps leading back to your front door. Then there’s a knock at it, soft—quiet. 

As your heart begins to race, you step to open the door, only to find Joel on the other side. As if you could be surprised. It’s safe to say you’ve never seen the man look so dejected, like a dog bringing a bird to your front door. He’s illuminated by your flickering porch light and the glow from the moon, and if you weren’t suffering so, you’d tell him you’d never seen a man look so ethereal. 

Searching his eyes for any semblance of an answer to all the questions you now have doesn’t last long. Because before either of you can say a word, Joel’s hands are cupping your face and he’s kissing you like he’s been underwater for far too long, and you’re fresh fucking air.  

And you let him. 

You let him, because the universe hasn’t offered you any other choice—if it has, you’re not fucking taking it. You let him kiss you, and push you inside, and kick the door closed behind him, because you’ve wanted this for years. You’ve ached for this, yearned for the feeling of Joel’s lips on yours, the warmth of his mouth and tongue—the feeling of his hands on your waist. 

Joel kisses you for as long as either of you can stand it, which is a pretty long time considering the way your hearts are racing and lungs are clawing for air. It’s when the back of your knees are pressed against the arm of your couch, and you’re falling backwards onto it, pulling him down with you, do you both pull back long enough to breathe. Though, it’s mostly huffs, recovering from the sudden fall and shock of the best fucking kiss either of you have ever had in your life. Still, the urge to smile hits you for the first time in over a week. 

You start to speak, whispering, “What about—“ 

“It’s over,” he says quietly into the space between your lips. “It was over the moment I heard that voicemail, I think. But only officially as of this afternoon.” 

Your throat tightens. You look up at him, your eyes still glistening with unshed tears, but that ache in your heart has begun to dull. “So why did you—“

“Scared, mostly,” Joel interrupts you again, because it really isn’t that hard for him to know what you’re asking and why. He brushes stray hair from your face. “Confused. Because I really thought I was over you, sweetness. Took me a week to deal with the fact that I wasn’t. Didn’t even truly figure it out until my feet dragged me over here.”

Your brow furrows, but a sweet smile draws over your lips as you bring your own hand to his face. You caress his cheek, running your hand over his beard. Deep down, you get it. You really do. But you no longer have it in you to ask any questions. Joel is here, and he is kissing you, and even though nothing has been set in stone, you suddenly don’t feel the need to carry the hurt you had anymore. 

“Think I owe Tommy a drink or two,” you joke then, and you both laugh. Joel even snorts. 

“Like hell you do,” he scoffs, “Tommy ain’t do shit besides spill my secrets and cause us grief.” 

“Okay, then we need to send Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal some gift baskets, at least.” 

“What?” Joel laughs, but you pull him down for another kiss that melts your goddamn heart. You’ve had a taste, and you’re never going to get enough. But instead of getting into it completely, you just soak in the moment. Maybe Tommy was right about the whole talkin’ it out thing, but so were you, you realize. 

Sometimes difficult things could end up being beautiful. 

So when you pull back and meet Joel’s eyes once more, you give him the softest little smile. 

“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” you say. “Promise.” 

-

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[maximoff-pan]

how about eddie giving steve shit for not telling the reader how he feels for her while they’re traipsing through the upside down???

traipsing through the upside down — oh my, I love that…

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

warning(s): none really, unless you count the upside down as a warning...

quick a/n: this is a really short, unedited, and pretty messy little blurb that I’m posting because I haven’t posted anything in a little bit...but I’m not super happy with it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and expect better things (and by better, I mean, less jumbled and makes more sense) from me coming soon :)

“You’re staring Harrington,” Steve doesn’t need to see Eddie’s face to know that he’s grinning. The singing tone of his voice gives that all away. “Again.”

Amber orbs meet similar dark brown ones. “You wish.” Steve hits back, even though he knows it’s true. 

He was staring, he has been for the last several minutes. But it’s not like anyone here blames him. They all know how distracting you can be, how intoxicating you are to him. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Steve cannot help how often his gaze wanders to you. 

At this point, Eddie’s and Robin’s voices have become like static to him, barely registering in his mind. He’s failing to hear most of what they’re saying, picking up bits and pieces of their well directed jibes. And while Steve is more than aware that they’re talking about him, making fun of him even, your sweet voice is just too distracting for him to care about much of anything else. 

As he loses his focus again, Steve feels his posture slump. His feet ache as he carries his weight through the tumultuous terrain that is the upside down. For a moment, he’d forgotten where he was, forgotten just how much pain he was in. The throbbing feeling that rips through his back serves as a poignant reminder though, his body nearly collapsing at the anguish. 

If he’s being honest, Steve’s never felt pain like this before. It hurts to focus on anything other than you. Then again, you’ve always been easy to think about, thoughts of you never straying too far from the forefront of his mind.

That’s why he continuously finds his eyes drifting a few paces in front of him, where you and Nancy are talking in hushed whispers, smiles crinkling the sides of your eyes.

Steve can’t hear what you’re saying, but whatever it is, you’ve made Nancy laugh, loudly and genuinely. And while they may not have been the right fit for each other, if there’s anything Steve knows about Nancy, it’s that he’s always been able to tell when she’s faking her laughter. And this one is real, pure and raw.

But it’s not a surprise to him. For as long as he’s known you, you’ve had this innate ability to make people feel safe, make everyone around you comfortable in the moments when they should least find themselves feeling so. It’s honestly never failed to amaze him how you can find happiness in the darkest of moments. With everything going on around you, Vecna being at the forefront of the many terrifying traumas you’ve all had to deal with over the passed couple of years, somehow you’re still smiling.

And boy, is your smile mesmerizing...

Steve sighs to himself as his thoughts are broken by a high pitched and obnoxious hum from the teen beside him. It’s like this mix between a low groan and a squirrelly squeal, the hairs on the back of his neck raising at the sound.

“C’mon man,” Eddie’s whine drags ever so slowly that Steve thinks it might never end. And it feels like it, truly; it’s agonizingly querulous.

But then, like he’s read his mind, Eddie’s harping on again, and Steve almost wants to punt himself across the face, (let alone Eddie), to put himself out of this misery.

“I’m fucking dying over here,” Eddie continues, gesturing wildly to himself as his mop of crazed curls flies with him. He’s fed up with this game of will they, won’t they. “I wish you’d just open your eyes dumbass.”

And I wish you’d just shut the fuck up, Steve thinks but doesn’t say, because while (for the moment) Eddie is annoying the living shit out of him, Steve knows he means well. He knows he’s just poking fun, trying to distract everyone from the fate that currently awaits you all, but he can’t help but want to slap the Hell Fire club’s infamous leader.

God knows Eddie deserves it, but he bites his tongue.

Instead, Steve merely rolls his eyes in response, tone snarky. “They already are, idiot.” He echos.

Robin huffs from beside the two teens, her feet dragging with every step. “Steve, that’s not what he—”

Steve cuts her off with the flick of his hand. They’re testing his patience right now. “I know Robin,” the demobat bites on his chest and back are really starting to burn, the adrenaline wearing off. “I know that’s not what he meant.”

Trudging through the upside down, after nearly drowning and having been attacked by monstrous bats is not exactly where Steve imagined he’d be at the moment. Nor had any of you really.

But all of that, on top of being interrogated, and poked and prodded by Eddie fucking Munson about his feelings for you, all while facing life and death, that takes the cherry on the cake.

Normally, Steve wouldn’t bat an eye. He’s used to the teasing, very much accustomed to being told how blindly in love with you he is, and having each of his (and your) friends point that out to him. But right now, it hurts him to be reminded of it. Because he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the chance to tell you.

And not just tell you on a whim because he thinks either of you won’t make it out of this. That wouldn’t be fair. He wants it to be right, wants to give you time to respond, to feel it through. Time, he’s not sure he has.

“If you’re not going to tell her,” Eddie’s voice chimes in once again, “at least do me one favour.”

Steve nods sceptically, eyes narrowing slightly. “One, Munson.” He agrees for the moment.

“If you’re not going to get your shit together,” Eddie rasps with a smirk on his face, “then for the love of god, stop fucking staring at her. It’s starting to get a little creepy.”

“Starting?” Robin jokes in response, elbowing Steve in the ribcage.

Steve winces at the contact, nearly unable to respond. But as he catches another quick glimpse of you, smile lighting up your face, he grins back winded.

Echoing his words from earlier, his tone light this time, his lips pull together. “You fucking wish.”

Well, Steve thinks watching the looks of surprise cross their faces, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

[featherandferns]

JJ smut with prompt 19 plsss

19. Make me.

Hi lovely! Sorry for the delay and thank you for your patience! This is a little short but I hope you like it <3

Content warnings: sexual content

storeroom - prompt 19

“You’re such an asshole!” you seethe at JJ.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, petty to the max. “And you aren’t?”

“Why can’t you take your job seriously?” you hiss. “They’re actually paying a decent wage and folks here are paying a lotta money for a decent meal, and you’re slacking on the job.”

“You’re not my fucking manager, okay?” JJ snarls, stalking towards you. “You don’t getta tell me what to do and what not to do. You’re a waitress, alright? So you better pucker up princess and pull the stick from out of your ass.”

“Watch your fucking mouth blondie,” you spit.

You square up to him as if you could lay him out in a second on the storeroom floor. Clearly sending the two of you to top up on supplies for the function tomorrow, after hours, wasn’t the smartest move from your supervisor.

JJ Maybank was a dickhead. He seemed to know which buttons to push with you to have you foaming at the mouth and blowing steam out your ears. He seemed to enjoy pushing them too. Did so until you were at your breaking point with him and his stupid face.

“What? You want me to stop putting you in your place?”

“I want you to stop talking full-stop, so I can get maybe a moment of peace in this Goddamn restaurant,” you bite back.

JJ smirks, cold and cruel. “Oh yeah? Make me, princess.”

You glower at his face. His stupid, handsome, gorgeous face.

You can’t say why, or when, or even how, but you and JJ are suddenly kissing. He seems taken aback, stumbling forward, pushing your back against the precariously balanced boxes of napkins and tea lights. Pulling back, eyes wide and mouth somewhat agape in shock, you and JJ regard each other a moment. Eyes flicking over features; breathing heavy and disjointed. There’s a moment where you both seem to debate whether or not this is the right thing; debate saying this out loud; then simultaneously agree on one common thought. Fuck it. You’d always thought JJ was kind of attractive. Well, more than kind of, but there was no way in hell you’d ever tell him so.

The make-out that follows is filthy and messy and confusing. JJ ends up with his back against the wall with you pressing against him. You both groan as his hard-on rocks against your crotch.

“This is a bad idea,” JJ says. His hand creeps under your shirt, messing to undo your bra.

“Definitely,” you pant. Your eyes are fixated on his lips and you can’t help but kiss him again, sinking your teeth leisurely into his lower lip for just a second.

“Fuck,” JJ groans. He yanks your shirt over your head and you shuck off your unfastened bra. Impatient, JJ palms at your breasts. The fact that both of you are on the clock, in the restaurant’s storeroom seems to be of no concern to either of you. “We should probably stop.”

“Probably,” you mumble. You unzip the fly of his work pants (they’re so fucking tight on him it’s almost criminal how good they make him look) and slip a hand hastily into his boxers. JJ stammers out a moan as you rub at his erection. Something shoots through you, be it attraction or hate. The two lay on a thin line.

“I don’t even like you,” JJ stammers.

You look up at him with that. Hooded eyes and swollen lips, he’s rosy cheeked and overtly horny. Squeezing at the head, making him moan, you can’t help but smirk.

“You sure about that, blondie?”

JJ stares down at you. His white button-up is still fastened and it’s unfair. You want to see him – all of him. Nobody should be allowed to be this attractive and this much of an asshole. The world is full of cruelties.

You continue working him with your hand, grinning malevolently when you feel him throb under your hold, already getting close. Men are so fucking simple.

JJ sighs. There’s a twitch of a grin to his lips, mirroring yours, and there’s this thrilling, terrifying thought that comes to your mind as he takes you in, like a predator observing its prey.

He’s going to wreck me.

[tollingreminiscentbells]

RoCS Side Story: Simon and Harry

Since people sometimes ask about Simon and backstory and things of that nature, I thought I'd deliver with a little bit of side content! Specifically, Simon and baby Harry meeting for the first time. A little shy of 1,000 words below the cut, if Harry's early childhood, and Simon's take on how to talk to toddlers, is of interest to you.

“I’m here to see the boy.”

The older woman currently responsible for the care of Harry Potter looks at Simon with extreme skepticism. Simon doesn’t blame her—he wouldn’t trust him, either.

“Harry,” he amends, because he knows he wouldn’t appreciate being referred to as the boy and, even if Harry isn’t present for this conversation, it’s the principle of the fucking thing.

She still looks profoundly unimpressed, but nods. The Dark Lord must have let her know Simon was coming, though he can’t imagine she was fully prepared to be confronted with a skinny twenty-year-old who hasn’t slept in almost thirty hours.

In hindsight, that might have been an error in judgment on his part.

“This way,” she says stiffly.

“Thank you,” he says, following her down the hall and up a flight of stairs.

Their destination turns out to be a small nursery on the second floor, just off the landing. And there, sitting in a crib under the window, playing with a stuffed dog, is the child the Dark Lord inexplicably thinks Simon is fit to raise.

“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” the woman tells him. She leaves the door open on her way out.

Simon watches her go, then turns his attention to Harry, who is watching him with fascination, the stuffed toy forgotten. They stare at each other for a moment and then Simon says, “Hello.”

Harry waves. “Hi.”

“Oh.” Simon blinks at him. “You can talk. Sorry, I didn’t realize.”

Harry giggles and says again, “Hi.” 

“Albeit with a somewhat limited vocabulary.” Simon crosses the room and folds his arms against the side of the crib. “I suppose you are only . . . how old are you?” He shakes his head. “I don’t know why I’m asking you, you’re a baby. Or are you a toddler? Is there a discrete point where one becomes the other?”

Every word that leaves his mouth is just more evidence that he has no business even being here. Of all the wizards in Britain, Simon Glass might be the last one anyone should entrust a small child to, particularly a small child as important as Harry Potter.

Said small child is stretching his arms in Simon’s direction. “Up.”

“You want out of the cage? I don’t blame you.” 

He’s never picked up a toddler before, but the principle seems straightforward enough and he reaches down to wrap his arms around Harry and lift him up and over the side of the crib. He’s heavier than he looks, but Simon doesn’t drop him and instead gets them both situated on the floor, so he’ll consider that a success.

The bar is so low he’d have to start tunneling to go any lower.

And then they’re back to staring at each other because of course they are. Simon has never felt more out of his depth in his life. This is worse than the day he got arrested.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admits quietly.

Harry tilts his head curiously, but Simon’s uncertainty might be affecting him because his face is starting to screw up like he’s going to cry. In a tiny, plaintive voice, he says, “Mama?”

Oh. Oh no.

But Harry really looks like he’s going to cry now, so Simon does the only thing he can think of: he starts talking again. “She’s . . . she’s not coming back, I'm sorry. Neither of them are.” He tries to smile and is very certain he fails. “My mother died a long time ago—I don’t remember her very well. I wish it had been the other way around and my father died first, but no one asked me.” He reaches out and brushes messy hair off Harry’s forehead. “No one asked you, either, did they? I suppose we’re alike that way.”

The talking strategy seems to be working because Harry is once more looking at Simon with some degree of interest, the tears held at bay. He makes a noise that isn’t quite a word, but Simon has spent most of his life not being understood by the people around him, so he nods. “Just so.” 

Harry smiles at him, which makes him quite possibly the only person who has ever found Simon remotely amusing, and Simon sighs. “I’m not cut out to be a parent,” he tells him flatly. “The house is horrible and I can’t cook. I don’t know anything about children. And there’s no one else, so you won’t even be getting a proper family out of the deal. This is a terrible idea and I don’t know why anyone would even entertain it.”

Harry holds out a hand and Simon takes it, watching as pudgy fingers curl around his index and middle fingers. It’s kind of sweet, actually. Reaching out to Simon like he’s in any way fit to be here, like Simon is someone he might conceivably be comforted by.

Perhaps the Dark Lord knew Simon better than he knows himself because there really isn't a decision to be made, is there? It was made the moment Simon walked in the door. Or maybe even sooner. The moment he agreed to meet Harry Potter at all. 

Harry is alone in the world now, but Simon has an idea of what that’s like and maybe . . . maybe that will be enough to get them started. A foundation he can build on, if he manages to keep them both alive long enough to try.

Looking into Harry's bright green eyes, he finds that he wants to try.

“I suppose I should introduce myself, shouldn’t I?” When Harry smiles again, he smiles back. “I’m Simon.”

[madman479r]

Peter x Felicia NSFW alphabet

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

The pair like to hold each other. Should Felicia cuddle up to Peter she'll trail kisses along his chest and neck, admiring his body.

Should Peter cuddle into Felicia, she'll have his head rest on her chest, knowing he enjoys the softness of them, and there she can play with his hair.

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

Felicia can stare at Peter's ass for hours and not get bored of it, to her it's like the beauty of the rising or setting sun, something you see everyday but still love the sight.

Peter himself loves Felicia's breasts, loving how firm yet soft they feel, especially when she gives him tit jobs.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Felicia likes getting a bit messy, she'll have Peter finish on her face so she can scoop it up and lick it clean, kitty likes her milk after all. But don't get her wrong, she loves a good creampie just as much, feeling it fill her womb up to the brim, and still going to the point it spills out of her overfilled cunt.

Peter enjoys getting Felicia to squirt, wanting to taste the sweet nectar as he laps up her pussy like an ice-cream. He also likes leaving Felicia looking like a glazed donut.

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

Both have a fantasy they're too timid about to share.

Peter wants to completely fill one of Felicia's cat suits with cum and have her wear it, knowing nearly every inch of her body was slathered in cum and held within the leather suit, then tearing open a hole by her crotch and fucking her while she wears the cum suit.

(Example: https://rule34.us/index.php?r=posts/view&id=3464941 )

Felicia has a fantasy of having a foursome, involving her, Peter and 2 Peter duplicates, having 3 Peters just use her for their pleasure, just ravaging her.

In her fantasy, they start off by tearing her suit off and molesting her body, playing with her tits, sticking their fingers in her mouth and teasing her holes. One kissing her, another kissing her breasts and the third eating her out. Just the thought of the three of them using her holes simultaneously like she was a free use slut, completely stuffing her full of cum. Another position where she's riding one of the Peters while the other two press their juice covered cocks to her face, each wanting her to suck on them so bad. All having turns with Felicia until she can't walk or talk and at the end they each stand over her, each stroking their cock and covering her in seed.

But ever since the revelation of Ben and Kaine, Felicia had conflicting feelings on this fantasy, not sure if it would be weird or push Peter's boundaries.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Peter was a virgin when he met and first slept with Felicia but she was happy to show him the ropes and teach him some things.

Felicia has had previous relationships so she knows what to do in the bedroom and how to please her man.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Due to their flexibility, there isnt a position they can't try, though if they had to pick some as their favourite, Felicia would chose the 'Upstanding Citizen' (as ironic as it is) where Peter stands up, holding Felicia in his arms while she wraps her arms around his neck and legs around his waist, or 'Face Off' where Peter sits on the edge of the bed or chair with Felicia sitting on his lap facing him. Either position where she's looking him in the eye as he buries his shaft into her depths, seeing the love he has for her in those innocent brown eyes.

Peter loves watching Felicia ride him cowgirl style, how her breasts bounce hypnotically and enjoys the pace she sets but he also enjoys suspending her in the air with his webs as a form of bondage.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Both give quips and jokes but mainly want to keep the atmosphere intimate and romantic, they do plenty of jokes and quips that outside the bedroom enough as it is.

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

Both have clear shaven crotches and not just for sex appeal. The pair wear tight fitting suits so you can imagine how uncomfortable it can feel having hair in those spots.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

The pair likes to make the other feel loved, especially during thein the carnal union of flesh.

In public Felicia likes PDA but during sex it's on a whole other level.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Felicia has a scent kink, once she found his suit and couldn't help but inhale the musk that emitted from the fabric, filling her lungs with his smell while filling her cunt with her fingers.

Peter enjoys watching Felicia's body and the way it moves. One time she laid before him, posed in her cat suit (she has spares in case) and had Peter stand over her body, jerking himself off while she posed her body for him, Felicia loved the feel of multiple loads all over her body, even putting on a show of licking herself clean for him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Peter has a thing for bondage, maybe it's his spider like instincts but seeing Felicia tied up in his webs does something for him and Felicia certainly isn't against it. Being suspended and unable to move as he normally shy and nervous boyfriend turns into a sexual deviant when she's at his mercy.

Felicia likes role-playing and has various outfits for various roles. Nurse, cop, she even got a slave Leia costume for her star wars loving boyfriend. One she scenario she likes to play is when she puts on her Black Cat suit and Peter pretends to be just plain old Peter Parker, a civilian who gave Black Cat a place to hide from police and Cat decides to reward Peter.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Felicia likes quickies atop of buildings or even on the side of them (seeing as Peter can stick to walls and windows, those locations became accessible to them), feeling a sense of excitement, just the thought of the two of the, having sex above the city, their lovemaking visible for hundreds if they decided to look out a window or look upwards.

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

The pair live a dangerous, adrenaline fuelled double life, and with their hearts still racing, they need something to do to release any pent up energy, especially for Felicia. Some nights they won't even take off their suits before they attack each other.

Felicia also likes to model for Peter, from casual outfits to lingerie, Felicia has a body women would kill for and knows it. If you got it, flaunt it.

Acts of kindness and romance from Peter can get Felicia in the mood, as a way to thank his kind heart, seeing as most her former boyfriends weren't so generous.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Pain and rape kinks are completely off the table. Pain because Peter knows he can easily hurt or break Felicia and won't risk it and neither do rape play because they deal with the scum of New York, rapists included, neither wanting to replicate such horrible disgusting acts, even if it's pretend.

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

Both give as much as they take, Felicia loves the faces Peter makes as she sucks on his cock, teasing the length with pecks and kisses and having him finish deep in her throat, gulping down each heavy load, looking him right in the eye.

Peter enjoys eating Felicia out but usually adds a spin to it. Once Felicia just got home and was suddenly lifted into the air, hanging upside down as Peter, in his Spider-man suit, feasted on her pussy, leaving her dangling helplessly as she lost her mind to the pleasure of his tongue. Or another time he had her sitting on his shoulders with his face buried in her cunt.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the mood and atmosphere, sometimes they just want to have the moment last forever, enjoying each others body and wanting to take it slow, others it's a blur, a rush, a thrill! They could be lounging around and suddenly find themselves in a naked tangled mess of sex and sweat.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Felicia is happy with a quickie when she feels it, even during their nightly patrols, at least when the night is quiet.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Felicia loves doing it in places they could get caught, by windows, in alleyways but one risky play she likes is to have sex whilst swinging in the air, wrapping herself around him, bouncing againt him while he swings on webs, his spider-sense ensures they don't crash into a building or anything.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Enhanced stamina is a byproduct of the spider bite and can let him go many rounds, the most Felicia was able to handle at one night before tapping out was eight consecutive rounds. But during his heat seasons it's like there's no stopping, Felicia lost count after blacking out, even when she awoke Peter was still rutting her body. Not that she minded

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Felicia loves her toys, butt plugs, blind fold, vibrator eggs, anything to add even more flair to their sex life (though cuffs became redundant since Peter could easily break from them and his webs were a better, stronger alternative). Felicia even looked to different means to make the nights more... magical

(Once Peter was just going about his day but suddenly felt a warm and wet tightness along his cock, as though it was caught in an invisible velvet vice, making him have to hide his erection from the public, thankfully his black jeans hid the dark cum stain he had. When he got home, he found out the reason he felt this way. Felicia had snuck into the New York Sanctrum and taken a book about sexual magic. Using the knowledge from the book Felicia had managed to make a voodoo like dildo linked to Peter's cock. Needles to say it was a success in her eyes. (She made it up to him by making a voodoo fleshlight tied to her, which he made use of))

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Felicia likes to edge Peter, wanting to see how long he can last and see how big a load he can spew out. Just hearing her lover's pleads to be allowed to cum makes her want to edge him even longer, how he can be reduced to a mindless mumbling mess just by her.

Peter mostly wants to make her feel as great as he can. But when he feels mischievous he can make Felicia lose her mind as well.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Both are moaners but Felicia has a whole array of whimpers, screams and gasps, she also likes to talk dirty to Peter, finding it encourages him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

The two wonder if they could have a child, if their lives and nature would allow them to be parents. Sure they talked about it but both are uncertain.

Peter knows he'd have to devote his time to his family if they started one but can't stop being Spider-man at the drop of a hat, it's who he is, he can't look the other way when someone's in danger, he can't. But it wouldn't be fair to his child, how can he expect his child to be okay with sharing their father's attention with the world?

Felicia has made enemies throughout her career as Black Cat, enemies who wouldn't bat an eye about killing a child and worries what would happen if her past caught up with her and their child. How can she have a kid knowing they could be in danger because of her past?

But even with their fears and trepidation, they both decided if it was a girl, she would be named May Felicity Parker. If it was a boy, he would be named Walter Ben Parker.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Both have bodies that would make celebrities jealous, no question. But Peter had gained his fair share of scars over time as Spider-man, something Felicia finds hot. Under their suits, Peter wears tight underwear, as not to chafe or give wedgies and Felicia wears a C string, finding them comfortable and knows Peter likes them.

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

Both can't keep their hands to themselves, can you blame them?  Peter has a body like it as carved from stone and Felicia has a body like it was made by Aphrodite.

But around Autumn is when Peter goes into heat, the spider mating season and his sex drive is tenfold.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If its not a quickie but a full blown act of sex, Peter can leave Felicia leaving exhausted and tired.

After hours of crime fighting, especially when it involves a super villain, its easy for Peter to fall asleep after a night of lovemaking.

[bitimdrake]

You know what. The biggest problem in Jason discourse is that so many people are insistent he’s just one thing.

Stans insist he’s a good guy with perfect morals who only did bad things because he couldn’t control himself. And it’s like, well, no, actually, he did many bad things and absolutely all of them he actively decided to do of his own volition. Fans want to make him someone who’s deeply devoted to his strict principles and I’m just, hm, I mean, sure there are some things he definitely believes in or detests, but he breaks those rules all the time. He’s not really a principle-driven guy or, at least, he’s a guy whose principles are regularly beaten out by his emotions.

DC pre-Flashpoint would be like “he’s an Evil Man who does things for Evil” and I’m like, hey, have you read your own comics because he’s clearly got more compelling motivations than that. But then fans will be like “everything he does is part of a moral plan” and no tf it’s not that either.

I’ve seen people insist that Jason’s work in UtRH has nothing to do with Bruce and is just about Jason doing what he thinks is right for Gotham, and I don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about!! I’m sorry, but if you read that storyline and truly think “nope, there’s no part of this that’s a kid lashing out at his dad because he feels unloved” you’re a fucking idiot!! It’s right there in the text!!!! It’s at the core of the climax!!

But just because that’s a motivation doesn’t mean it’s the only thing he’s ever motivated by, the only emotion he ever has. People don’t work like that.

Sometimes Jason does things to fuck with Bruce or Dick, or reach out to them in his own messed up way. Sometimes he independently does things he thinks are right. Sometimes he just does things he wants to do that fit neither category!

Why did Jason attack Tim after he came back? Well, I mean, it was established that he thought his death should have been the last and didn’t like kid sidekicks still existing, so maybe part of him was testing and pressing Tim. And also, he’s a deeply traumatized teenager convinced that his dad replaced him and fucking obviously he’s lashing out at the easiest target. The two things do not negate each other!

And it happens with his time as Robin too. DC pretends he was always angry, reckless, unprepared, not good enough to be Robin; that he was doomed at the end and doomed from the start; that his death was inevitable. And that ignores that he wasn’t a bad Robin at all, that every Robin has had pretty much the same amount of anger and mistakes, that his only mistake on the day of his death was trusting the wrong person.

But then fans do the same thing the opposite way, and insist Jason as Robin was a pure sweetheart who never did anything wrong, that he was the least angry Robin ever, that if he ever did do anything bad it was just bad writing and editorial vendetta because surely he could not have had flaws. And that ignores that Jason was just as much of a messy, struggling kid/teen as any other Robin; that he was regularly righteously angry, and occasionally acted on that anger in unfair or reckless ways; that being a good kid doesn’t mean being A Perfect Ball of Sunshine Always.

Jason as Robin was a full person with strengths and flaws and coherent motives and acts. He was neither a cautionary tale nor a pure angle.

Jason after his resurrection was a mess of contradictions who believed many things and wanted many other things and couldn’t even admit all of them to himself. He did a lot of reprehensible shit, but his motives were understandable, and often sympathetic, and occasionally even convincing, because that’s what made him an interesting character and foil.

To flatten him is to miss the point.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

idk why this bugs me a bit but I really don’t like when you see art or writing that delves into the dynamic between characters in a less positive way - like an argument, or clashes between coping mechanisms, or a miscommunication that causes some problems and doesn’t get immediately resolved - and you get people saying stuff like “oh they’re so fucked up” or “this would not be healthy irl but here it’s cute” and I just. what do you think a healthy relationship looks like. it’s never going to be perfect. people disagree. not everything gets resolved perfectly. sometimes there will be parts of a person you will never completely understand no matter how close you are to them. what matters is communicating in the ways that you can (which isn’t always in the way help books or therapists tell you to btw! there are lots of ways to communicate effectively that are specific to who you are as people), making active efforts to show your care (which yes, sometimes isn’t easy. that’s why it’s an effort), and enjoying this person’s company (they should make you feel good to be around overall! clashing a little is okay but they should not make you miserable!)

anyways I guess it also irritates me because I see these kinds of comments a lot under studies having to do with characters struggling with trauma or mental illness and therefore not communicating in necessarily healthy or productive ways and maybe always having issues that do not get resolved perfectly and I really can’t stand it. we already live in a world where people have to pretend to be fine all the time. I’m quite flattered when people are comfortable enough with me to let that veneer go. they feel safe around me! what a compliment! I always feel like that’s so much more than I deserve. sure things can be uncomfortable at times and I do sometimes have to say “I can’t listen or help right now but please tell me later” and that’s ok! because we all want to make sure we’re safe for each other to come talk to. to be honest with. a little personal discomfort at times is worth it. always.

people are messy. you’ve got to let people be messy. friendships, relationships, etc, they take time and effort from everyone involved. learning to manage less than ideal situations actually is going to help you draw better boundaries against things that are actually “fucked up” or toxic than expecting perfection, or for a happily ever after where all the conflicts you started out with get resolved.

idk. it’s just. people you care about deserve to not have to be ideal around you. likewise you deserve to have to not be ideal around them. isn’t that. the whole point of someone knowing your soul? the ugliness? and the way it’s a package deal with the rest of you? I would like to learn you. I don’t just want your scraps. I want every part of the whole I asked for. I will learn to manage the sharper edges.

[thestobingirlie]

i don't understand people who think steve and nancy are just completely incompatible and never should have dated in the first place (this is re: a post another anon referenced about "bro code doesn't exist when you and your ex are clearly not meant to be in a relationship")

it's such a weird idea that any outsider can claim "oh these two people should never have dated" when...they did. they chose to. it was a relationship that two people both wanted and pursued and spent almost a year in, and it might have ended but how fucking invalidating for a friend to be like "and it never should have happened in the first place, so let's pretend it didn't" it was a year of their lives

even though i don't agree with the interpretation that nancy was waiting for jonathan to make a move and only settled for steve, (i think she was just waiting for jonathan to re-enter her life at all, and didn't think dating steve would end their friendship), even if she did date steve to stave off her loneliness it was still a source of comfort and safety for her for months. steve's the first person she slept with and her first serious relationship (maybe her first relationship ever?)

and for steve she was his first love

but hey, they, like, obviously never should have been together in the first place (tho if they're so incompatible how are they even friends? or if it's so messy how would the hurt feelings not be relevant?) so like, let's just pretend they weren't and that they don't mean anything to each other and that they never did, because they never should have

so many people that hate stancy have an inability to actually view it critically, and just interpret it the way they want to, rather than what they’re actually shown.

even if you think stancy never should’ve been together, that’s such a weird thing to say to defend steve’s best friend dating his ex. like yeah, maybe he looks back on his relationship and thinks, “hmm, we shouldn’t have been together”. but that doesn’t erase the hurt!! that doesn’t take away the fact that they were in a very real relationship!!

i really liked the way you worded that! like, yeah, even though at the end of the relationship it had become tougher and tougher for nancy to ‘pretend to be normal’ for a good portion of a year, steve was there for her! he helped her through her grief, and was a person she could rely on and talk to. steve was the boy she chose to lose her virginity to, and nancy was, at one point, the most important person in steve’s life.

to just say they shouldn’t have been together anyway so who gives a fuck, is so stupid?

besides that, they broke up just over a year ago!! it’s not like it’s been years since they dated and their emotions and hurt over it are long gone. and they’re teenagers! they won’t be able to reflect back on their relationship with that degree of maturity and separation for years.

also. i know i talk mainly on the stobin side of things, but i don’t think nancy would be comfortable being in that kind of relationship either. steve would be her girlfriends best friend, she would have to spend day in, day out with her ex, that she didn’t speak to for about a year because of the rough breakup. nancy is the kind of person that avoids awkward situations like that. and considering the fact that nancy’s girlfriend would always chose steve over her. i don’t think nancy could deal with that.

[hometothecanyonmoon]

in all seriousness, i can’t believe we just. get to have a show like nlmg. like. for free. we get to see this insanely talented director, venturing into a new space but still killing it. we get to see these wonderful (new) actors who deserve the world. we get to see a show that is so refreshing, so beautiful, so well-written, so gut-wrenching, heartbreaking, so so carefully written. i can feel the hard work that has gone into making this what it is now. the efforts they’re taking for every small scene, working on the action scenes for hours and hours, every tiny detail, every angle, every meaning the lighting holds, every small prop, i’m just . speechless. a show that has a plot that is not such a new concept. it’s the same yet so different in such subtly meaningful, complex ways. it’s treated so well, so respectfully. the clichés are not because of lazy writing - they’re to drive harder the point that this show is different. it feels so fresh. every cliché is followed by a completely unexpected moment. the characters are so strong, so perfectly executed, it’s excellent how well the show understands them and how well they are portrayed to us, through pov switches, so that we can understand them just as well. no decision is out-of-character, it fits perfectly with their personality, with their motivations, with their upbringing and their needs and wants and self-perception. every micro-expression has me clutching my heart. THE ACTING. the cinematography, the choreography, the OST, the moody filter that ties the whole thing together, the actions taken by every single character, it’s fucking phenomenal. the way first time teen love is represented so perfectly, especially in a situation that is arguably harder than most teens’. the messy, angry, imperfect, jealous love, marred by forces out of their control, with no other way out than to make it through. with lots of hurting each other, lying, both to yourself and to people you love the most. the angst, the frustration, the little stolen moments that mean so much, every single glance, every single touch, every single action that makes your heart race. the exhilaration, the awkward flirting, the feeling of being loved (back!!!). i literally can’t believe p’jojo is just so incredible and we are given access to this beautiful show unrestricted - it feels like a privilege. i feel so lucky i’m alive to watch this show as it unfolds slowly, that i’m able to partake in analyses, that i can experience this whole process. it’s going to fundamentally change me and i can’t wait to see how it goes. i have so much faith in them doing justice to the director’s vision, to the actors, and most importantly to the characters. what really makes me weak is the fact that p’jojo literally said that it’s not an action series - it’s a romantic drama where the love story is the main plot: that regardless of their circumstances, their parents, their social classes, their roles, their dynamics, the only thing that matters is that they love each other, period. everything else is secondary. palm and nueng love each other, and everything else comes after that. at the heart of it, it’s just two 18-year olds in love. this has even been proven in ep4 where palm is translating mandarin words - love, social classes and separation. the order in which they are presented itself is a direct emphasis on what the show is really about. in short never let me go is an excellent show, possibly the best show i’ve found recently, and you should go watch it on gmmtv’s youtube channel. thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[dashielldeveron]

anon from mid december here! god i love winning. ANYWAY much to observe. i love the through lines of government assigned chapstick flavours and the defining moment that makes the soulmate connection work in every chapter. i love that immediately after posting you cited your sources on tenkos characterisation. very funny very charming and you are very right. i adore the mcs vibes she knows so much about so many things with a 50/50 chance of it being useful and she’s MESSY and she’s FIGURING IT OUT and her relationship with tenko teaches her to give herself grace. they’re just so sweet on each other it brings me endless delight as does touyas lil cameos. he’s a dirtbag and he’s a comedian and hes warmed up to the ducks and i want to put him and his fucking HOOVES in my pocket. i’m sure i will return with more thoughts at some point but for now. very delicious to me. WAIT NEW THOUGHT THE FUCKING INVENTORY KEY THING WAS AN EXAMPLE OF THE SOULMATE CONNECTION GOD YOURE GOOD. AND THE GOGGLES sorry i’m re reading the chapter as i type this

ASLDKJFA;SDFJKL;A YOU GET IT!!!!!

oh my god the DUCKS. i needed someone to notice the ducks oh my GOD. he BUILT them a HOUSE in his little art project garden he has a duck for SOME reason in dnd what a LOSER. like he's bonded so hard with them he wanted a fictional one, too!!! like. imagine touya just carrying a duck around in a purse like a small dog. both of them v v v judgy. enemies to lovers duck edition

lololololol "government assigned chapstick flavours" you canNOT tell me that these very kissable boys are only using, if any at all, generic unflavoured chapstick lol. it is STUPID how long i've had "post-canon tomura wears burt's bees tropical pineapple chapstick bc he specifically wants something that Tastes Good" stuck in my head; i'm so glad it's finally in fic and that you've been keeping track asdjfkl;

and yeah i wanted to reblog the shigaraki meta that i'd been considering!!!! bc while i was rereading the manga for this route, i realised that everyone, from police to heroes to villains to students, just make Large Assumptions about shigaraki, and they just Say Things about him. and everyone around them just takes it as fact??? it's like. we the audience are being told things about shigaraki, but they don't match up at all with how we see him act. i am hoping that this is intentional on hori's part, esp. with how heavy-handed shig commentary has been by other characters in the last few chapters, to make the point of "midoriya is the only one who's ever Looked and shigaraki and Perceived." bc, like, AFO and the pro heroes objectify/dehumanise tomura but in different ways. i worry. but so much of what we're shown of shig just doesn't match up with what characters say about him!!! it's odd. i really like him, despite being Told That He Is an Object, specifically one of destruction.

goddddd reader in this route is messy and i have a lot of compassion for her. i think she should allow herself to get angry more often. but i think that gifted kid burnout and basically moving back into your parents' house and people judging your "bad" life decisions even though they can't Know what you're going through--it's a touchy subject, tinged with shame and confusion and insecurity of identity, and tomura, i think, is experiencing his own flavour of that, since he doesn't get to be the Greatest Evil VIllain version of himself that he had in his head for so long and now is Just Some Guy. i didn't want reader to have a saviour complex but i wanted her to Care So Hard, and i hope that came across, esp. since her caring so hard also works with her own insecurities.

also yessssssssss YESSSSSS the KEY the GOGGLES it was there in front of them the whole time!!!!! but they weren't looking for it!!!! bc when soulmate bonds are words and marks, who the fuck is gonna be looking for a soulmate bond in just some weird triviality????? lolololol i talk about wanting to handle tomura with care but gave him the silliest soulmate bond thing. i like how useless it is, because it's, like, tomura doesn't need to be useful rn, either.

godddddd i'm so glad you sent me an ask so i could talk about thissssssss. i'm SO fucking glad that you're noticing details like this and having fun with them!!!!! i am, too!!!!! i love tomura and you and i hope you are having a good 2024 so far!!!! xx.

[knifesxedge]

omg please ik ur a funpoison guy but. funpoison 💖

THANK YOU MATT I LOVE TALKING ABOUT THEM.

so we ALL know i’m a funpoison guy, i LOVE them, def my favorite dd ship, but to be perfectly honest it has to be done Right for it to really work. it’s sort of all tied up in the fact that inherently, with as little canon as we have to work with, a lot of popular fanon or even things that people consider to be canon to the point where you would get weird looks if you DIDNT do it even though it’s nowhere in the canon material (ie, party and kobra being related, fun ghoul having tattoos) come from when danger days was irrevocably intertwined with RPF. so i don’t wanna say it’s rough out here for funpoison girlies because YES we have a lot more content than a lot of other dd ships BUT. the problem therein is that even now a lot of people are still writing it either explicitly AS rpf or heavily heavily inspired by rpf and it gets. how you say. Uncomfortable. and then, as was pointed out in a post a few years ago, a lot of funpoison content is written as. hm. unhealthy. and that’s fine, complicated/toxic relationships are interesting to explore in fiction, it’s more when ALL they ever do is fight, and never have ANY positive moments that i’m like 🤨 maybe you guys should break up

that being said when they’re done RIGHT………when someone takes the effort to make them CHARACTERS and make them actually seem like they LOVE each other (even if the relationship is complicated or messy!! i actually love when their relationship is a little fucked up even if i don’t write it that way in my canon myself) (with the exception of my twitverse au that has yet to see the light of day outside of one drawing and talking about it in discord and the exterminators au that also has not left the discord)…..OUAAAAAAAAAAA

i LOVE me a good enemies to lovers with these two like REALLY — but i also genuinely think when they get to the “lovers” point they LOVE each other like through thick and thin they bring out the best in one another and they both have huge hearts so they just care so much about each other it’s crazy. i think on the occasion they DO fight it’s BECAUSE they care so much about each other that self-sacrificing tendencies on both their parts spark arguments about how they should be taking better care of themselves. i think they deserve an ooey gooey heartfelt romance and i mean that with my whole chest ❤️

i recced a fic in the last ask so i’m gonna link a few funpoison fics i feel have really good dynamics (not necessarily healthy ones, but always ones where they actually seem like they’re in love with each other):

here, here, here, here, and here

send me a ship and i’ll give you my (brutally) honest opinion on it!!

[thessalian]

Thess vs Last Straws

You know that feeling when one of your friends is a self-absorbed little shit and you know they’re a self-absorbed little shit but their self-absorption and little shit-ness just hit one button too many and you just want to slap them? It’s the weirdest damn feeling because it can be the smallest thing to set it off after years of arguably bigger issues.

This is concerning an old RP friend, who I still follow on Facebook. Now, he was an issue generator for quite awhile when I used to see him in person. I honestly have zero recollection of how we met, but he joined my Mage group when I ran in meatspace, and a few other games as well. He was problematic in all of them, frankly, with a bit of Main Character Syndrome and that thing that goes, “I have to be a hero in this game because I need validation of the type I don’t get in real life”. Also ... okay, y’all know I have zero issue with anyone on the spectrum, but I do have issues when someone doesn’t try. Fucking hell, I try - every day I try, and it’s not easy, so I am totally understanding when people slip up. But I tripped over a post of his that basically went, “Hey, I think I’m going to write up a guide to how to communicate with me and hand it to everyone I know”, and he was not joking. Not sure he ever actually did it, but his answer to, “I have communication issues” was not “I should work harder at ensuring that we all understand each other as best we can”, but “I will tell everyone how to talk to me so that I don’t melt down, and thus put the entire responsibility for the success of our communication into their hands because I can’t be bothered to moderate my own behaviour”.

I largely stopped engaging him after that, at least in part because I was a little disturbed at his overriding need for a girlfriend. I swear, it was all he talked about for quite some time. Of course, see above re: his communication skills, so that probably wasn’t happening. But he said something today that I just wanted to slap him over. He was whining about “I can’t buy the Toby Daye series or the InCryptid books because they’re not out on Kindle! Why are they not out on Kindle? WOE!” At which point I looked at my two shelves of paperback involving both those series and went, “Hang on; what now?!?” Then I engaged.

I should not have engaged. I mean, my first thing was flagging up that honestly, I don’t know if the author asked for there to be a gap between those books getting published and those books hitting Kindle, but I wouldn’t blame her if she had. McGuire is hugely outspoken about how book piracy can destroy an author’s career, particularly when dealing with a series. Book 1 sells well, but if Book 2 (or 3, or 4, or whatever) gets pirated more than it gets purchased, the publisher will decide that the series isn’t worth it and bin the whole thing. Now, I imagine you can pirate a book that hasn’t made it to ereader yet, but it’s a lot harder and a lot messier, and it still might not end up legible. So I started with the first bit of that - I mean, they’re her biggest and longest-running series and I wouldn’t blame her for not wanting the Kindle versions to float around for a good long while.

He said, “But if I can’t buy it, wouldn’t that make me more liable to pirate it? Which I don’t want to do because I do want to support her, but...” Like he had no choice - like it was either Kindle or nothing.

I looked at my two shelves of paperback again at that point and decided I wanted to throttle him, not slap him. So I flagged up the second part of that statement above - how a pirated copy of a book that hasn’t come out for ereader is likely to be messy and barely legible and there are other ways to buy a book than getting the Kindle version - like the local library, or ... you know, buying the paperback. I asked him to at least please not be disingenuous; to acknowledge that it wasn’t that he couldn’t buy it but that he couldn’t have it in his desired format.

Apparently he doesn’t have a local library, but he did at least subside a bit with, “But I see your point. I guess I’ll just wait”. Given the earlier replies, I can’t help but read that with a tinge of sulk.

Maybe it’s just the one straw that broke the camel’s back. But after awhile, you get tired of someone insisting they should have things entirely their own way without having to compromise or consider the situations or feelings of others, and then sulking when they have it proven that the world doesn’t work that way. I distanced him when he whined to me that he had to be the hero in my game because it gave him the kind of validation he lacked in his real life; I distanced him further when he whined about not being able to get a girlfriend. I’m about ready to just block him entirely over this one. Not because this is that bad - although it is that bad, since I’ve read time and time again how pirating books can destroy a series and an author’s career - but because it’s one more bit of proof that he has to have everything entirely his own way and will sulk if he doesn’t get it. My life is too short and too stressful to deal with people like this.

I mean, I don’t have anything against people who prefer Kindle to dead tree. But someone whining that they can’t buy it at all when what they mean is, “I can’t have my preference”? Miss me with that. If I want to support my favourite author and read the continuation of the story I’ve invested so much time and feels in over the years, and I can’t have it on Kindle? Just put down the paperback and back away slowly. Gods, he’s even whingeing about Be The Serpent and that’s not even out in paperback yet.

[selfcarecap]

would like to know more about your opinions about punk 57 :))

Hii Yesss, okay so I’m just gonna say eeeverything (but warning it’s not positive lmao) it’ll probably be a lot so I’ll put a readmore lol (also spoilers)

Okay idk where to start. So this is obviously fully my own fault but I misread the blurb (several times💀) and thought this was a wlw story and was a tiny bit disappointed when I realised it wasn’t lol but at the same time I was still really excited to read it bc I’d only heard good things and either way I thought the pen pal thing was super interesting and could be cute

Right from the start I didn’t like Misha like aren’t the male MCs supposed to be likeable and loveable in a romance book? Lmao. I guess he wasn’t bad but even before the thing with his sister happened I didn’t like him.

Then we met Ryen and I didn’t like her either. I mean most people wouldn’t like her at the beginning obviously but she’d been so horrible that by the time we found out why she’s the way she is, I didn’t care anymore 😭 also I think 18 is old enough to know better and not act like that.

Omg and generally age wise? There’s no reason for these people to be 18 and in high school. It’s like Euphoria in that way lmao. They should have been in college. I didn’t know whether to expect YA or New Adult and I still don’t know what it was because it’s clearly not YA because of all the sex but then why are they in high school? I didn’t really enjoy the smut bc it was weird knowing they’re barely legal. I’m not much older than them or anything but most people I knew when I was 18 (and actually it hasn’t changed much in the two years) were not having that type of sex lol (sure some people do and good for them lol but just make them older lol. This is a book adults are supposed to read so?). It was so so cringe to me when they were having sex on the library floor and in the car with their whole class right next to them omg.

And also about the sex, so I genuinely don’t mind the word slut during sex lol BUT NOT WHEN IT COMES OUT OF NOWHERE? If you haven’t talked about what you like during sex yet and the guy suddenly calls you a slut? 🚩🚩🚩 I mean Misha was generally a red flag tho, he was so aggressive and weird and I get he was heartbroken because of his sister but I just didn’t get him. and he was suddenly a criminal as well like idk he was such a ‘bad boy’ but like for no reason and he wasn’t even cool. He was just an annoying man (boy) who was very unlikeable and I didn’t see any character development? And yeah just very mean and aggressive towards Ryen. They definitely had sexual tension (although it kind of came out of nowhere too) but I never got why she would like him, especially before she knew who he really was. I get their history but I still didn’t believe that they actually liked each other romantically.

And for Ryen idk😭 I usually support women’s rights AND wrongs and sometimes I love a messy female protagonist but I just couldn’t like her, she was just a bully and so was Misha. And yeah she kiinda redeemed herself at the end but yeah by that point I just didn’t care. Also why did she have to be pregnant in the epilogue? It’s so random when authors put that in an epilogue it literally ruined the story even more lol. And like I said I would not believe that they’re still together after 5 years because they didn’t seem to actually like each other. I’d believe that they liked each other while they were still writing letters but irl I didn’t see a connection except a sexual one, especially because Ryen didn’t even know who he was for ages.

And just generally they were extremely immature all the time. And yeah they’re 18 but then it’s weird to see them fucking the whole time when they’re acting like (violent lwhejs) 14 year olds.

Okay now an important point. I would feel very differently about this if it was like a dark romance or not even romance at all lol. But as far as I can tell it’s apparently a romance book. But it just isn’t lol. There were hardly any romantic moments in it. It was a badly written dark high school erotica at best and if it was marketed as that genre, I still wouldn’t have liked it a lot but I would be a lot less disappointed lol and yeah I think selling it as a romance book is just not appropriate and telling anyone that that’s a healthy romantic relationship is just not right lol. (I mean I guess in the book it was never claimed that it’s a healthy relationship lol like of course the characters are toxic but they never stopped being toxic? Like there was a bit of character development in Ryen but Misha was nothing but an asshole to her and everyone else (except that guy Manny? I think that was his name lol. Only character I liked😭😭)

Omg also I just remembered the amount of times Ryen was in Misha’s lap and they were lowkey making out in the lunch hall😭😭😭 why would an adult write that lol. Also literally every single scene in the school was so so unrealistic and cringe lol. And if people really act that way in school, why has no adult done anything about it??? Lmao

It also definitely did not pass the bechdel test loool. I understand women can be mean and I’m not saying Ryen should be friends with Layla or whatever her name was but I would have loved to see at least one nice woman or healthy female friendship. Or reconnecting with her sister. I know there was one sentence about how her sister doesn’t hate her anymore or something but come on 😭 give us something 😭. I’m concerned for Ryen because Misha’s not good for her and she doesn’t even have a female friend to be honest with her about it. Yeah there was Delilah but that’s not what I mean obviously. With the whole fitting in theme etc I think it would have been so important for us to see Ryen connect with another woman or at least not be a pick me (she wasn’t a pick me generally I guess but in that regard she was). (Female) friendships can be even more important than a “romantic” relationship so just because she has her toxic unlikeable misogynistic bully boyfriend she inexplicably likes now, doesn’t mean she’s gonna be happy forever.

I really wanted to like this book and I’m genuinely happy for the people who do but I just can’t see the appeal shsksj

BUT at the same time I did read all of it (although I was tempted to dnf at many points😭) within two days which is fast for me so it couldn’t have been all bad lol.

What do you think? 👀 lmk!! (Whether you agree or disagree with me lol I’d just love to hear what other people think!!!! <3)

[sibsteria]

AHH i just noticed you write for jackass and i got super excited!!! also hello fellow she/her sagittarius entp! 😩💅🏻 would i please be able to request a steve-o x reader where him and reader are in an interview (maybe w the rest of the crew) and they accidentally let it slip that they’re going to have a baby? thanks so much love!! ❤️

a/n of courseeee <3 I’m sorry if this was a little short, I tried to pull from a recent interview.

Cat’s Out

“Hello, show people, we’re the cast of jackass and we’re going to see how well we know each other.” Johnny looks to his side, Steve-O along with Y/n are in his view. “Unfortunately, we know each other very well.” Jason let’s put a little giggle at this.

The THR crew hands us a paper.

“Who is most likely to be a ‘Jackass Forever’ and still attempting stunts after the age of seventy” There’s s small thinking pause.

“Steve-O”

“Yeah, I think Steve-O will still be doing this-” Johnny looks into space.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Chris and Jason sound in agreement.

Y/n had missed something Johnny had said over Jason’s loud voice.

“No way, no way. Course he would.”

“I-I called that too-” Knoxville let’s out a cackle at his friend throwing himself under the bus.

“Okay, let’s talk about me!” Johnny does a mock impression of him and Y/n face palms, giggling beside her partner, everyone erupts into short laughter.

Another paper is passed along and given to Jason.

“Who comes up with the craziest stunts?”

Steve-O doesn’t take a beat before answering, “Knoxville-”

A chorus of yeahs from the group are in agreement.

“-Knoxville has impossible standards for stunts-”

“Well I just like cartoons-” There’s more bounding around the gang, “-and I think, life should operate like a cartoon.” He smiles goofily at the camera. “And it’s cost me a couple’o’times.”

“Speaking of cost, who has broken the most bones?”

“Through jackass or without jackass?” Jason questions more.

“What if it was who said they broke the most bones.”

A big pile of laughter comes in, Y/n speaks up.

“Oh, Erhen!” She cackles out. She meets her man’s eyes for a moment, smiling at his sweet face.

A flurry of agreement swims around the room.

“Who is most likely to walk away without any injury?”

“Hm, Jeff Tremaine-” Johnny smiles, “-who is most likely to get arrested tonight?”

“Y/n.” Jason lets out a sick chuckle, everyone echoes what he said.

Y/n and Steve-O share a look.

“I’m not even drinking tonight, you bunch of bitches!” She whines into a laugh, she slipped up, never mind- they won’t dig in on her.

“Boring! God, you’ve been acting so pregnant, lately.” Everyone laughs at Chris’ joke, except the couple.

“Fuck! Look at her face!” Knoxville points to her stuttering awkward self.

“Dudes-” Steve-O is cut off.

“You’re not…actually pregnant, are you?” Johnny presses, intrigued.

“I-I, what should I-” She looks to her side, begging Steve-O to help her, both of them had agreed to not say anything until a few months.

“I say fuck it- yeah she is.” He looks proudly at the remainder of his friends.

Congratulation cheers and whoops are pulled from them, a couple of head shakes.

“Sorry for outting you, princess.” Johnny gives a slanted smile.

“It’s okay, at least now I can stop making this one stop throwing away the shots you guys hand me.” Her hand finds the comfort of her partner.

“I promise I won’t tase you for another nine months.” Johnny crosses an X over his heart.

“I’d like to think you wouldn’t. Tasing a pregnant woman is a little ambitious for you, Knoxville.” She bursts into messy laughter along with her boys.

[urwelcomeforthis]

Alex’s tattoo shows up the day after she punches Marcus Hinkle.

He had been picking on Kara in the hallway, dangling her math book above her head, taking advantage of his summer growth spurt.

Kara still doesn’t know what possessed Alex – Marcus Hinkle had been a thorn in her side since she had landed on Earth and started school a year ago, but whatever the reason, today was the day Alex couldn’t take anymore.

Eliza had been furious. Jeremiah had been (not so) silently proud.

Kara didn’t know what she had felt, really. Especially not when she asked Alex why, and the older girl had just shrugged and said “You’re my sister. It’s what we do.”

Up until this point being sisters meant fights in the hallway over the bathroom and ignoring each other at the dinner table.

Apparently, things were changing.

Kara is just waking up when she hears Alex’s hushed “What the hell?”

“What is it?” She asks, groggily sitting up and wiping at the sleep in her eyes.

Her sister is holding her forearm up, frantically scrubbing at a spot right in the middle, her eyes frantic.

“I don’t…. I don’t know! It’s like a tattoo but I didn’t get a tattoo! Fuck, Mom is going to kill me.” Alex sounds panicked as she continues scrubbing at the spot, and Kara feels her heartbeat speed up.

“You had a tattoo just appear on your skin?” Kara asks slowly, her mind suddenly far away on a planet that doesn’t exist anymore, in a culture she had been forced to leave behind.

Alex stops scrubbing and looks at Kara with a piercing gaze. “Yeah. It’s some funny symbol too, like the way you used to write before you learned English. Did you do this to me?”

Alex leaps off the bed and crosses the room in two quick strides, arm held out like an accusation.

Kara shrinks in on herself a little but nods. “I think so. I didn’t know it was possible here, but well, on Krypton when your soul mate reveals themselves, a tattoo linking you appears. I should have one too, somewhere, if you do.”

Alex stops dead in her tracks, her eyes wide. “Soul mates? But we’re sisters! That’s so gross!”

Jumping up from the bed, hands held up in surrender Kara hastens to explain further. “No! Not like that, I promise! Back home, people had different kinds of soul mates. Sometimes it was the romantic kind like you talk about here on Earth, but other times it could just be a compatible soul, someone who was meant to be a part of you.”

Alex still looks wary, if not relieved, as she tentatively holds out her arm. “So, what does this mean? What kind of soul mates are we?”

Stepping forward Kara delicately traces the symbols on Alex’s forearm. “It literally means “sister of the soul.” Je shesur. The symbol after it is unique, the way we would know we were linked. If this had happened on Krypton it would mean we were soul sisters. Not from the same parents but family just the same.”

Alex nods. “And here on Earth? What does it mean here?”

“The same thing. At least that’s what it means to me.” Kara refuses to meet Alex’s eyes, not sure she wants to see what waits for her there.

There’s a long minute of silence after Alex takes her arm back. The clearing of her throat brings Kara’s eyes up from their place on the ground.

“Where’s yours?” Alex asks, eyes burning with curiosity.

Kara shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s not on my arms like yours is. It must be hidden. Can you look on my back?”

“Sure.” Alex nods. “Lift up your shirt.”

Kara turns and tugs her shirt up and over her head. It takes a moment, but she hears her sister gasp followed by the feel of fingertips against her left shoulder blade.

“It’s the same as mine.” Alex says reverently, and Kara closes her eyes against the emotion welling up there.

Who would have thought she would get to have this piece of home?

“So, I guess I’m stuck with you. For like, ever, huh?” Alex smiles once Kara has turned back around.

Kara grins back. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Alex shrugs. “Could be worse. But you have to tell Mom about this, because she’ll never believe me, and she is going to be pissed that I have a tattoo.”

“Sure, I can tell Mom.” Kara grins, a piece of her heart settling in place. She hasn’t felt at home on Earth, not really, but at this moment she feels like it isn’t all that bad.

--

The next person to get a tattoo is, interestingly enough, James.

It doesn’t come when they’re dating, or whatever it was that they were doing, no.

It comes after he has revealed himself to be Guardian, and he and Kara have the biggest fight of their friendship.

Kara wakes up the morning after tired, groggy, and more than a little cranky. Its as she’s stripping down to get in the shower that she notices it – the Kryptonese scrawled along the inside of her right bicep.

Throniv Shesur. Protector of the soul.

Kara heaves a deep, deep, sigh and grabs her phone.

She meets James at the DEO, both tentative around each other after the yelling match of the day before.

“So. I woke up with a tattoo. Kryptonese. Any idea what that’s about?” James looks smug, like he’s won some kind of battle with Kara and god, at that moment she wishes they were in the training room and she could just punch him.

“Yeah. I did too. It means “protector of the soul.” She crosses her arms against her chest, desperately trying to hold onto her anger from yesterday but the wide grin on James’ face is making it hard.

“I know. I asked Clark first thing since I figured you’re still pissed at me. He was a little surprised, but he translated it for me.”

“Where’s it at?” Kara asks, still pretending to be upset but truthfully it was hard given the glaring message from home telling her that James was meant to be Guardian. That they were meant to protect each other. Protect others together.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” James says with a waggle of his eyebrows and that’s what finally breaks Kara, a laugh ringing out across the room.

It wasn’t who she expected to have a tattoo, not in this way at least, but if it had to be anyone, she’s glad it’s James.

--

Mon-El doesn’t get a tattoo. Kara wishes she were more disappointed.

--

The last person to get a tattoo is someone Kara had desperately hoped both would and would not get a tattoo.

For a long time, she feared what that tattoo would be, if it were to happen. She feared having to explain it, having to explain herself.

She had checked with Clark a few times, when paranoia would get the better of her.

No, he always told her. Lex did not have a tattoo. They were enemies, yes, but it hadn’t been decided by destiny or fate. It just was.

That mollified Kara because she couldn’t stand it if she and Lena were to become Clark and Lex. She would fight against it, fight against fate to keep it from happening.

And then, well. It kind of happens anyways.

They aren’t enemies, not really. Lena just hates Kara and aims a few Kryptonite cannons at her and tries to mind control the entire planet, but really everyone is allowed a brief lapse of their sensibility, right?

And what matters is she came around, in the end.

It did take time, however, for them to build back to what they once had. It was different now, but in the way that things once broken and fixed usually are.

It was better, if anything.

They were back to shared lunches and dinners, quick breakfasts and coffee breaks. They were back to game nights as partners and movie nights as friends, and the occasional sleepovers as best friends.

Things were finally back to normal, so of course Kara had to go and absolutely, irrevocably, mess it up.

It was Alex’s fault, really.

If she hadn’t said anything, if she hadn’t asked Kara what was up between her and Lena lately, Kara probably never would have stopped to think about it.

She never would have stopped to think about the way her heart sped up when Lena entered a room, or the way her palms got sweaty when they hugged, or the way she just could not stop staring at Lena when she laughed at game nights.

But now she had thought of it and had come to the very scary conclusion that she was in love with her best friend.

Her best friend who didn’t have a tattoo.

She would, after all this time, have a tattoo, the tattoo, if they were meant to be together, right?

Kara mulls it over for weeks. It haunts her. She asks Lena about tattoos, and if she has any.

She learns that yes, in fact Lena does have tattoos and boy howdy one of them is on her lower back and it is seared into the back of her eyes now that she has seen it.

But she doesn’t have any kryptonian tattoos, which is really what Kara was aiming for.

Much like it was Alex’s fault that Kara even realized she was in love, it’s also Alex who reminds Kara of one important detail.

“Well I didn’t get my tattoo until after I punched what’s his face. Maybe you have to tell Lena how you feel and then she’ll get the tattoo.”

Kara feels dumb struck, right there on her own couch, because of course, Alex is right.

The tattoos always come after the person has already revealed themselves.

Then of course comes the true fear: what if she tells Lena and she still doesn’t get a tattoo?

That’s the question she’s mulling over the next night as she and Lena sit on her couch watching some documentary that had been put on Netflix.

Lena looks beautiful, face bare of makeup, hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, glasses slipping down her nose.

She’s eating a piece of pizza, a rare treat after a long week of work, and Kara decides that it doesn’t matter if Lena doesn’t get a tattoo.

She’s hopelessly, desperately in love with the woman and she can’t let a tattoo that may or may not come dictate her life.

“I’m in love with you, you know.” Kara blurts out, like this isn’t a life changing moment, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to say. (It is.)

Lena chokes a little on the bite she was swallowing, her hand coming up to her chest as she sets down the slice.

“Excuse me?”

Kara laughs. She’s never felt more free than in this moment. “I’m in love with you. I just thought you should know.”

Lena looks at her, shock written all over her face. “Oh. I guess that’s good.”

“Just good?” Kara nudges Lena’s thigh with her knee.

Lena shakes her head. “I mean it’s more than good, considering I’m in love with you too.”

“Yeah?” Kara could float up to the moon, she thinks.

Lena smiles, nose crinkled. “Yeah.”

It’s the next morning that Lena calls and asks if Kara can stop by. She has this tattoo she didn’t have yesterday, right on her ribcage, and it looks like it’s Kryptonian.

Kara frantically searches her own body, finding the script on her hip, on the left side.

Zhao Shesur. Love of the soul.

It took them five years to get to this point, but Kara knows, this moment was more than worth the wait.