#what does it tell about me that I am attracted to men twice my age

[hauntedandmurdered]

How to spell out Hannibal Lecter correctly:

D-I-L-F

[babeydollx]

Ok plz don’t judge if this is too graphic and smutty. I was thinking it could be another Ward Cameron x Reader. The reader is purposely making Ward jealous by talking to other males at an important party and the reader is wearing a skimpy dress with lingerie that is very small and she does things to tease Ward?

Only For Me

Warnings: cursing, smut, age gap, cheating, lingerie, teasing, daddy kink, punishment, spanking, mentions of sex, slight degrading kink

Pairings: Ward Cameron x Female Kook Reader

Summary: In which Y/N decides to tease Ward at one of his important business dinners.

a/n: just because some people were asking, you can find my Ward Cameron fics on my Bonus Masterlist along with Rose Cameron's fics.

© Maybanks-Luver, please do not steal, copy, transfer, or translate my work.

When you arrived at Tannyhill, all eyes were on you. The men were practically drooling over you while the women at the dinner party were sending you dirty and judgmental looks, judging what you were wearing because of how skimpy it was. This dinner party was for Ward's business. You had been working with Ward Cameron at his business for about 6 months now.

You were his assistant. And god, you loved your job. It definitely came with more perks than it usually would. At first you applied at his business because you really did want a good job and you thought you could learn a lot from Ward Cameron. But, as you started to work for him you realized that you may have had an attraction to him. You were never into older men before but, Ward was a fucking dilf. You had never felt this hot and bothered for a man twice your age before.

You smiled when you saw Ward standing with his family and you walked over to him to greet them all. You could see the dirty look Rose shot your way but, you didn't care. Why would you care? You were already fucking her husband behind her back. "Hello Mr. Cameron. Mrs. Cameron." You said with a smile. Rose smiled back at you but, you could tell it was fake.

"Hello Y/N." Ward said with a smile. "Are you enjoying yourself?" He asked as his gaze lingered down to your tits. "Yeah, I am." You said with a smile. "Well, I'm going to go talk to a few other people, see you soon, Mr. Cameron." You said with a smile as you walked away from Rose and Ward. As you were leaving you looked back to see Ward's gaze on your ass. You smirked a little and looked away before he could see you staring and began to make your way around the room.

You saw that Ward was watching you and then you smirked getting an idea. Since you knew that he was watching you, you decided to go around and flirt with some of the men at the party. As you were going around, flirting with any of the men in sight at the party, you could see Ward standing there with his jaw clenched, watching you saunter around the room talking to all the men.

You continued doing this until Ward came over to you. You smirked when you saw him coming over to you. "Y/N, can I talk to you alone for a moment please?" He asked politely but you could tell that he was beyond pissed at you. "Well of course, Mr. Cameron." You said with a smirk. You walked upstairs with Ward and he led you to his office. Once you were both in his office he grabbed your jaw and forced you to look him in the eye.

"What the fuck were you doing down there? Acting and dressing like a little slut in front of all those men. You know that your body is for me only. You're mine." Ward growled. You just smirked, seeing how pissed off that made him. "Well, I'm not going to let you get away with that, babygirl." He said with a smirk. Before you could say anything, he spun you around and bent you over his desk before pulling the skirt of your dress up over your ass. He swiftly pulled your panties down your legs before landing a hard slap on your ass making you yelp.

"You know what to do. Count." He said as he continued the assault on your ass. You counted each and every slap and you counted up to 15 slaps which was more than usual. He must have been pretty pissed off at you. He pulled your panties back up and fixed your dress before pulling you back up by your hair so that you were now standing up. "Your punishment isn't over, princess." He said with a smirk. "Tomorrow Rose is taking Rafe, Sarah and Wheezie out so you're going to come back here tomorrow so I can finish what I started." Ward said with a smirk. God, you were in for it now.

a/n: I hope y'all enjoyed this fic!

Taglist ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

@gillybear17 @lovedetlost @luversgirl @vashappeningkevin @n-kkpoly @my-baexht-ls @ceceswriting @drewbooooo @bethoconnor

[buckysbabygorl]

Writer’s Block

Summary: Friends help each other out, that’s just how it is. Steve doesn’t bat an eye at his and Y/N’s behaviour, but insights from Sharon make Steve rethink things between them.

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: swearing, suggestive themes, dumbasses Bucky and Sam, an extremely chaotic turn of events

“Steve!”

Sharon nearly spilled her beer as she jumped at the voice, surprised to hear it so loudly after Y/N had been holed up in her room for days.

Steve turned nonchalantly at this voice; used to the chaotic out bursts. “Yeah?”

The young woman trotted in, dishevelled and tired but manic looking.

“I need your shirt, I’m on to something here--”

Steve stood without hesitation; as if he’d done this thousands of times before. And he had.

“On it,” he said, pulling the garment off with one hand and tossing it in her direction.

She caught it with ease, not even taking in his shirtless state as if she’d seen it a thousand times before. And she had.

Sharon however had never seen this interaction before, and stared in awe at the two’s casual exchange.

As Y/N rushed out of the lounge and back to her room, Sharon couldn’t help but gawk.

“What the hell was that?” She asked, amused.

“What?” Steve asked, now shirtless on the couch, “Oh--she’s writing.”

He sipped his beer after his statement, and Sharon was surprised at how he expected that to answer her question.

“I’m sorry?” She said confused.

He leaned further back into the couch, getting comfy. “She’s writing--she needs my shirt when she writes.”

Sharon laughed; “Why’s that?”

Finishing off the last of his bottle, he set it down on the floor as he spoke; “She says it helps her write when she gets stuck--it’s a weird process but…” he shrugged as he grabbed a new bottle.

“How romantic.” Sharon teased, sipping her own beer.

He smiled awkwardly; flustered at where the conversation was going, “Come on--” “What? We’re friends, we can talk about this stuff.” She said.

He gave her a look, “Can we?”

She shook her head at his prudence, taking another swig.

“Yes,” she said, “It’s not like we were married. We kissed like--twice, plus you’re not exactly my type anymore…”

Steve chuckled, “Oh right--how is Maria, by the way?”

“Don’t change the subject,” she said, pointing a finger in his direction, “I want to hear more about this process.”

“It’s no big deal, it’s just…” He thought, choosing his words carefully to not give Sharon any more material to tease him with, “Helping out a friend.”

“Bullshit.” She said. He cracked open the bottle with his hand, avoiding response.

It was a touchy subject around the compound; his and Y/N’s very… intimate relationship. They were friends, coworkers they’d say. At least on the surface. But it couldn’t be missed how quickly he fell in line for her; and how her first instinct with anything and everything was to go to Rogers. They refused to go on missions without the other; they were touchy, they were jokey, if you found one the other was always in close proximity. Hell, the team was surprised they weren't sharing a room yet. But apparently, for some unknown reason, they told everyone and themselves they were just friends.

Sharon looked at him, deadpan. “Steve.”

He looked back to her in playful annoyance. “What?”

She slapped her thigh with her free hand, finishing off her drink. “Come on, let’s get into this.”

He sighed, “I don’t know what to tell you--she doesn’t see me that way.”

She jumped on his choice of words immediately, “She doesn’t?”

The implication being, of course, that she didn’t but he did.

Flustered, he waved a hand at her. “No, no, no--that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s not not what you meant.” She countered, “You like her.”

“Shut up,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

“That’s not a no.” She hummed as she thought of another point; “And what’s she need your shirt for anyway? That’s cute as hell.”

He sighed again, “Well--it helps her… get in the mindset.”

“Pardon?” she asked at his cryptic explanation. “‘Mindset’?”

He didn’t want to admit the reason, running a hand over his face, flustered.

He bit his thumb, his voice coming out muffled as he spoke. “Well, she writes about… characters… in romantic settings, so--”

He spoke, drawing out his words, “She needs inspiration, for those kinds of scenes.”

“Dude, EW!” She said, way too much information coming her way for being this sober, “I don’t wanna hear that.”

“NO,” he defended, “Not in a weird way. But like--if the guy gives the girl his shirt, or he picks her up or something, I dunno, but like--she’s very sensory. So the shirt helps with getting into the moment. She can put herself in the character’s shoes, if that makes sense.”

Sharon’s eyes went wide as she cracked open a bottle for herself, “Well I don’t know how you’re not using that to your advantage.”

Steve did a double take, “Elaborate.”

She laughed through her nose, “Well, if I were in your place--”

“--Hey.” He warned.

She raised her hands in defense, “I’m just saying, you could be giving her a hell of a lot more inspiration than your shirt and your cologne.”

“You think she likes my cologne?” He asked.

“Steve, you’re a grown man. In fact you’re an old man, figure it out for yourself.”

They sat in silence as Sharon waited for Steve to ponder this.

He jolted upright as if having an epiphany; “you don’t think--”

“--really? Are you fucking kidding me?”

She laughed at his blushing cheeks, he ran a hand through his hair cursing under his breath.

“So what now?”

“Oh my god--” Sharon said through gritted teeth, “Go give her inspiration. I swear you’d never get laid if I wasn’t around.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” Steve joked.

“Hey,” She said, kicking his shin lightly.

He laughed, “Hey, we’re friends, we can talk about this.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Are you gonna go in there or what?”

“Like--now?”

“Yes! You dumbass, go get your girl. I can wait, I can handle myself.” She sipped her beer as if giving an example, and patiently waited for Steve to go.

Hesitantly, Steve rose from his spot, wiping his hands along his jeans nervously. He was stalling, evidently so. Was he really gonna do this? He didn’t know what was lying on the other side of that door, metaphorically speaking. He knew she was likely frantically typing away, thinking out loud, and egging herself on. How could he even begin to approach that? The man didn’t have any moves; hell, the last time he’d kissed a girl was Sharon, and that was ages ago.

He was frozen in place; glancing back and forth between the hallway and the woman in front of him. What the fuck was he gonna do?

“What are you doing? Warming up? Just go.” Sharon complained.

Steve sighed, throwing his head back in annoyance, “Fine,” he exclaimed, “But if this goes south, it’s your fault.”

“Fine, fine, whatever, I take the blame. Just do something already.”

Fed up with her pestering, Steve forced himself to leave the room.

Okay Rogers, you got this.

As he hunkered down the hall, moving quickly before he could change his mind, Rogers continued to silently hype himself up.

You--you’re captain america. You. Are. America’s. Ass. You’re already shirtless, and that’s half the battle won.

But as he found himself in front of Y/N’s door; all his false surety had disappeared.

Steve groaned to himself, “Oh my god, what am I doing?”

“What are you doing?”

The voice of his friend made Steve jump, as he realized he wasn’t alone.

Bucky and Sam approached him from the other end of the hall.

“Steve, where’s your shirt?” Bucky asked, equally as confused as Sam. They then realized who’s door he was in front of, and immediately lit up.

“Whoa, are you coming or going Rogers?” Sam asked, assuming illicit activities were taking place.

Steve pursed his lip, looking back to the door in front of him. “Coming, at least trying to.”

“Seriously? You’re actually making a move? I never thought I’d see the day--” Bucky said.

“--Proud of you buddy, we didn’t think you’d ever go for it.” Sam added.

“Wh--” Steve stuttered, looking between the two, in both shock and embarrassment. “Does everyone know how I feel?”

“About Y/N? Uh--yeah.” Sam said.

“Come on Steve, you’re not exactly the most subtle when it comes to feelings.” Bucky explained, “You’re always together..”

Sam added on, “...whenever you’re not, you’re depressed…”

Bucky nodded, “You remember her birthday, she remembers yours--”

“--Wait, do you guys not know my birthday?” Steve asked.

The two friends shared a look, squinting as they pondered how to break the news that; no, they didn’t.

“July?” Sam asked.

“I know you’re a Leo,” Bucky said, as if that would suffice for an answer.

“Oh my god,” Steve said, “It’s July first.”

“We’re getting off track,” Sam said, “What exactly is your game plan here?”

Steve put his hands on his hips, shifting his weight to face away from her room, “Honestly, I have no idea.”

“Well lucky for you,” Bucky stated, confidence in his tone, “We’re here to help.”

Steve looked at him, disbelieving, but also slightly intrigued. “Oh yeah?” He asked, half jokingly. At this point, he’d take all the help he could get.

“Yeah,” Sam spoke, nearly offended that Rogers could ever doubt the Wilson charm. And whatever the hell Bucky thought he had going for him.

“Just go in there and be cool, flex a little, maybe be a little dismissive.” Sam said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky agreed, eagerly, “And like--act like she wanted you there.”

Sam snapped his fingers, “Exactly, make her come to you.”

Bucky and Sam stood, satisfied with themselves, as Steve stared slack jawed at the men in his presence.

“You guys are idiots, how have you ever gotten laid?” He asked.

Immediately the two jumped to their defense. As the three soldiers’ argument increased in both intensity and volume, they didn’t realize they’d attracted the attention of the woman on the other side of the door.

Y/N huffed as the sound penetrated her walls, snapping her laptop shut as she rose and charged to her door. Whipping it open, she startled the men in front of her.

Bucky screamed and nearly knocked Sam over, while Steve stared at her like a deer in headlights.

“Will you guys shut up, I’m trying to--” Her face lit up with a sudden epiphany, “Steve! Get in here.”

Before any of them could react, or argue, the young woman had grabbed Steve’s arm, and with surprising strength, pulled him into her room. The door slammed shut in Bucky and Sam’s faces, leaving them as dumbfounded as ever. They scrambled to press their ears against the door, not wanting to miss a second of whatever was going to happen next.

~

“Thank god you’re here, I need your help--”

Steve stood panicked in her doorway, unsure of what to do. She started pacing around the room, dramatically gesturing to further elaborate whatever point she was trying to make; which was completely lost on Steve. This was classic Y/N behavior; off on her own tangent and assuming Steve was with her every step of the way. Usually, he was, but this time he was too caught up in the ideas that Sharon, Bucky and Sam had put in his head.

Fuck, what did they say to do? Uh--flex. Damn it, what do I do with my body? What do I do with my hands?

Steve tried to control his expression; aiming for stoicism, cool, as Wilson described it. With his awkward smoulder, Steve moved to lean against the wall in a flattering way. He flexed, or tried to, as he braced himself in the most horrible attempt at casual standing.

He looked around the room; trying to be nonchalant while Y/N continued.

“So,” She said, “What do you think?”

“Uh--yeah, sure. Cool, whatever.” He said.

Dismissive, got it.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she took in his stance, gesturing a hand to the wall he was placed against.

“Uh… what are you doing?” She asked.

Immediately embarrassed at whatever the hell that was, Steve stood upright.

“Nothing, nevermind,” He said in an attempt to brush off his previous actions, “What were you saying?”

She groaned, “Just get over here.”

She manhandled him, pulling him to the centre of the room, closely in front of her.

“Okay,” she said, “Try it.”

“Try what?” He asked.

“Try to kiss me!” She said.

He pushed her hands off his arms, “What?!”

She laughed stupidly, “You don’t have to actually do it. I just need to get a feel for the motion of it.”

She went to take a step forward, her arms getting ready to wrap around his shoulders. Steve took a step back and raised his hands in fear.

“What motion? What are you talking about?” Steve sputtered.

“Oh my god, were you even listening?” She teased, reaching for his forearms to pull him back. God was she strong. Or was Steve just oddly willing?

“Chris is about to kiss Hailey, or try to anyway. Sebastian and Anthony just talked to him and he’s finally gonna do it. Your shirt was working for awhile but now I’m getting stuck again. So--try to put yourself in that position. You just realized you’re in love with your best friend and you’re really gonna go for it. Act it out if it helps.”

Steve felt like he was going to throw up, lord help me.

“Y/N, I don’t think this is a good idea--”

“Come on,” she ushered, “It’s just me.”

“Exactly.” He said.

She shook her head at his ridiculousness, not aware of the real sentiment behind his words.

“Please? Do it for me.” She begged.

He looked down to the hands wrapped around his forearms; this felt like cheating. It wasn’t supposed to go like this; using the incredibly odd and specific scenario she’d laid out for him. It was hitting too close to home; how could he use this as a scapegoat to get what he wanted? Confessing his feelings and holding her in a way he’d wanted to for so long… the guilt overcame him.

But as he looked back into her eyes, as she was pleading for him to do this for her, he knew he couldn’t say no.

“Alright--can you just, can you close your eyes? It’s freaking me out.” He said.

She nodded eagerly, closing her eyes at his request.

He sighed, I guess it’s now or never.

He slipped his arms from her grip, and gingerly took her hands in his. He ran his thumbs over her knuckles, and resisted the urge to pull her closer. To press a kiss along every delicate finger in his grasp, to take her immediately how he wanted to. He inhaled, he exhaled, he had to pace himself.

“Okay,” He whispered, readying himself for what he was about to do.

“I want you, I’ve wanted you for so long that it’s driving me crazy. I--I don’t how to do this; how to do this right but I have to do this now because I know if I don’t I never will.”

He laughed at himself; the romantic honesty of it all.

“I’m crazy about you; I can’t get enough of you.”

He let his hands glide down to her wrists, bringing her to his chest and placing her hands on his shoulders. His hands fell to wrap around her waist, drifting his fingers along the shirt that he knew was his, revelling in the fact that she was in his clothing, and in some indescribable way, in his possession.

She was lost in the low timbre of his voice, completely consumed by his words. It sounded so real.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He asked, breathlessly in her ear. “I could just…”

He allowed himself to trail off, lips ghosting just over hers, taking in all the beautiful features of her face that he’d admired countless times before.

This was it; this was the moment he’d been praying for.

She broke into a smile, opening her eyes and playfully squealing.

“That was perfect!” She said, not moving from her position. “That was so good, how’d you think--”

He didn’t let her finish.

Words couldn’t describe how good her lips felt on his; how intoxicating the feeling of her bare skin was in the palms of his hands.

He clutched her tightly as he kissed her; gripping the soft flesh of her waist in a desperate hold to keep this moment as long as possible. Indulging himself in her taste, her touch.

His tongue trailed gently along her bottom lip before gently taking it between his teeth.

She gasped softly as he deepened the kiss, her hands instinctively wrapping in his blond locks.

As she tugged at his hair, eliciting a groan from Steve, he shifted his hands down to her hips and pulled her taught against him.

Her hand moved to cup his chin, lightly scraping the stubble with her finger tips. She moaned as the action made Steve’s fingers dig into the skin of her back. She arched her chest at the feeling of the possessive hold.

Why the hell hadn’t they been doing this the whole time?

She pulled back from his kiss, trying to catch her breath. Steve couldn’t read the look in her eyes; a mix of shock and confusion, and another emotion he wasn’t sure he’d seen before.

She tried to clear her mind as her hands shifted to rest on his chest; she felt his heartbeat pounding with the rise and fall of his own breath.

“Get on the bed.” She demanded.

Steve’s eyes widened at the command, stupidly ogling her as her hands moved to remove her--his shirt.

“What about your story?” He asked her.

She chuckled lightly at his naivety, reaching out to grip his biceps and pull him towards her.

In one quick motion, she pulled them on to her mattress. Steve reached out his hands to brace his fall, hovering above her.

With a lustful glint in her eye, she smiled.

“Fuck the story. We’ve got better things to do.”

~

“Sam we have to go,” Bucky said, “They’re gonna start fucking and I don’t wanna be around for that.”

~

Tags: @babyblue-07 @fandomsfallnomore @elliee1497 @lonewolf471 @babybluereads @marianas-studyblr @godspeedlover @sexwithhiddlesbatch @annestine @shower-me-with-roses @yougottalovefandoms

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Hey could you write a Bad Ben x reader (maybe when he get jelaous)

Rules In Bellwood

Pairing: (Bad) Ben Tennyson x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: It's a well known fact that Ben gets jealous easily so everyone tries to avoid flirting with you, to stay off his bad side. When someone does flirt with you, it doesn't take long before Ben is throwing hands.

After living in Bellwood for so long, somethings were just common sense to the locals. You shouldn’t give money to any of the beggars and instead buy them some food. You should always lock up your bikes and cycles tightly with multiple locks.

However, the thing that was probably the most obvious was that you shouldn’t flirt with Ben Tennyson’s girlfriend.

It was a known fact that Ben could get ridiculously jealous and possessive, even going as far as threatening other suitors with his watch. And being one of the most powerful people in the entire world, everyone knew how that would go.

Even so you didn't mind his behaviour. It wasn't like he was keeping you in a cage, just preventing people from flirting with you, which you already didn't like.

And you enjoyed the way people respected your boundaries and respected you when you said you were in a happy relationship.

That was another thing that people found surprising, that you were actually happy in your relationship with Ben. Never in a hundred years would they have thought this delinquent would ever have a soft spot for a girl. Yet they were proved wrong time and time again.

Because there were rules in Bellwood, it was easy to tell the locals from the foreigners. They usually looked unsure, insecure and anxious to be in the crime capital of the country. But a tell-tale sign was if they flirted with you.

Of course, you weren't an irresistible seductress (Ben disagrees) so it isn't like men and women and constantly falling at your feet. Even if you weren't in a relationship, you'd be surprised if someone decided to approach you instead of anyone else.

Even before you began dating Ben, you rarely were on the receiving end of pickup lines and compliments. After you got into a relationship with him, a few people did try to steal you away from him, but you knew it was just to spite Ben.

That's how you came to know of his extreme jealousy.

It wasn't like he hated every person that came near you. But the second he got an inkling that someone was interested in you, he couldn't help but feel anger.

Did they think that he couldn't satisfy you? Were they purposely trying to hurt him by trying to take you away from him? The fact that some of these people treated you like a piece of meat, trying to win you over just to be a thorn in his side made him angry.

Even when people tried to gain your attention, he'd never tell you but it warmed his heart when you continued to remain loyal to him.

He trusted you with his entire being.

That didn't mean it didn't annoy him.

"Hey, are you from Tennessee, because you're the only 10 I see." Came an awkward and flustered voice from behind you while you were waiting in line in a coffee shop.

The person who was taking the orders gasped audibly and you chuckled, turning to meet the awkward boy standing behind you. He looked about your age and was extremely embarrassed. You immediately felt bad for having to turn him down because he seemed like he didn't do this too often.

"Actually no, I'm from Bellwood. You know, since we're in Bellwood?" You replied coolly and watched as he blushed red, in a way that reminded you of a bunny and swallowed hard.

"Yeah, that—that was stupid."

You raised a brow at him, "So where are you from?"

"Where am I from?"

"You don't seem like you're from around here."

He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head, "What gave me away?"

"Just that people from around here don't usually flirt with me."

You wondered if he would understand after that but he just gave you a confused glance and you wondered how long it had been before he moved here. A few days at most.

"Why not? I mean, you're beautiful." He blurted out and his eyes widened, realizing what he said. It was so innocent and pure that you couldn't help but giggle. He was like a cute kindergartener who asked his teacher to marry him.

"It's because she's my girlfriend you prick." You heard and your eyes snapped to your boyfriend, glaring at the boy in front of you, clearly unimpressed. The shop immediately went quiet and you sighed, wondering if you had to break up a fight.

Even though the boy was clueless, fortunately, he wasn't too clueless because he seemed to recognize who Ben was. As if the blood draining from his face and eyes going wide were any indication.

"I—I'm sorry." He tried backing away and Ben grabbed him by the collar, yanking him away from you.

"You think you can just flirt with my girl? I think it's time I reteach this town what happens when they try to touch what's mine."

The boy looked downright terrified and you could've sworn his eyes got a little teary so you quickly stepped in, placing a placating hand to Ben's arm.

His gaze turned to you just for a second, eyes softening at the way you pouted at him before glaring at the boy again.

"It wasn't his fault," You coaxed, "He's new into town. It was my fault; I should've told him sooner."

Ben's grip on his collar loosened just a tiny bit and you gently unfurled his fingers from his collar and let the boy go. You sent him a quick apologetic smile before looping your arm with your boyfriend's and sending him a sweet smile.

He returned it with a smirk before glaring at the boy one last time, who was cowering away, "You should consider yourself lucky that my girl is so kind."

He didn't even give you another glance, bowing his head in a meek thank you before rushing out of the coffee shop. He looked so scared that you kind of felt bad for him.

When you turned back to Ben, he was giving you an unamused look.

You frowned, "What?"

"You could've told him you had a boyfriend."

"I was going to." You defended.

He rolled his eyes, "Sure."

You scoffed at his sarcastic tone, “I was!”

He was still annoyed, sighing through his nose, “I swear we should just get it tattooed on your forehead.”

“Oh, please, this happens like once a year.”

“And that’s still too many.”

“Let me just bask in the glory that I still look attractive to other people okay?”

Ben scoffed, as if offended and grabbed your hand just as you got your coffee. He led you out of the store quickly, not liking the way everyone was staring at you like animals at the zoo. He’ll admit he caused a bit of a commotion, but he didn’t care.

“As if I don’t tell you that every day.”

You chuckled at him and his cheeks felt a little warm. It wasn’t rare that he’d compliment you, but it wasn’t often that he’d tell you with such a meaningful tone.

You pecked his cheek, squeezing his hand that was intertwined with yours, “Tell me twice a day and I’ll consider us even.”

He grinned, “Deal.”

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

[sopxhiea]

Lush

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: The ropes are tied on both ends after their last meeting and the infamous wild girl keeps tugging at them, until a sliver of vulnerability seeps through and Alfie sees her for who she is.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Am I in trouble?”

“You play so hard to get...Will I ever catch you?”

The marble walls are cold. It’s sometime in december, hard to tell since the days seem to be morphing into each other as the clock ticks. The sun no longer shows, and it’s faint when it does. One sound from the large clock on the hallway and it’s the end of the week, the passing of time seems to escape the months.

Although no one seems to care as they dance through the night.

It was put somewhere in the calendar by Annabelle, and you vaguely remember the fading lines of your uncle’s smile as he told you he’d be getting married soon. It was hard to care, even harder to remember why you were standing there, in the corner of the lavish room while the music boomed through the fancy building.

There were many things to be said, but you’d keep them to yourself for the day.

The bride was a sham, you could tell from the way she didn’t even smile at your uncle. He was somewhat of a rich guy, although you hadn’t experienced any of the said money since he happened to be greedy guy who just wouldn’t share what he reclaimed to be his.

Much to your luck, you had no interest in his money or any of his property but the new bride couldn’t disagree more. Annabelle had sent you off an hour before the event started and it was school policy to get in before midnight but you never did, even when it wasn’t someone’s wedding and just a tuesday night.

She’s not supposed to tell anyone of your whereabouts but a little green bill and Annabelle turns into a song bird.

You smile at the guests as they dance, hand in hand as the slow song fills the air. It’s rather strange seeing you like this, some think. You’re usually the source of trouble, the one causing the mess and not the quiet girl you’ve been since the wedding started but you figure you owe your uncle that even though he had forcefully sent you to a boarding school and didn’t send you anything on your birthday.

You don’t hold grudges, you say to yourself.

With the strange passage of time, sometimes you can’t quite pinpoint where the reality starts and the dreams end but you know he’s real. The way he tries to play your little game, where most of the men either failed or simply gave up. He’s been holding up his end, you conclude, after almost a month of spontaneous visits.

Alfie, is his name.

You don’t call him that, although he insists but you enjoy the way his scruff covered face reddens way too much to do things the proper way. You hadn’t even kissed him yet, but he still came back for more. He was easily riled up by you and hated Annabelle and sou you figured, you wouldn’t drop this one.

It was easy, to get tired of men and it happened almost naturally for you. The first stages were far more than exciting, when you didn’t know anything about the bloke’s life or boring job he had but soon after that, reality would set in and you’d realise that the bloke you had your hands on was just another boring rich boy who was too good for you in his family’s eyes.

But not him, Alfie had proved to be quite the opposite.

There was blood on his hands and a weight that came with it, it was evident in the way he walked and spoke, he didn’t just do things out of spite like the young lads did. You didn’t even know how old he was, only that he was close to being twice your age as Ollie had told you one time without giving away too much but that didn’t bother you.

It bothered Annabelle, though. You could see it in her eyes.

Being the infamous wild lady had its perks and one of them was the way you had access to direct information on the town’s social climate. Sometimes it was a bitter, snotty girl telling you her best friend had gotten married to a bloke from Birmingham or the drunk lad you were dancing in the club speaking to you about the new club that was opening soon. It came in many forms but the most important part was that it was the voice of the youth around.

Apparently, Alfie’s gangster nature and piercing eyes had made him an attraction of sorts for the younger ladies. No one would say it except some of the girls you knew who worked in the brothel he had visited many times before. There was a line, the girl had told you under the dim light of the entrance, a line made of posh girls who wanted Alfie to fuck their brains out for the thrill of it.

It had almost made you smile.

You didn’t look down on any of the girls for the thoughts they were having, if anything you agreed but Alfie wasn’t just a bloke who lived around the corner from their posh apartments, you knew. He was in a dangerous line of business and very capable of snapping your neck in two if he wished to. It was thrilling, you would give the girls that, but he would need a lot of warming up to be the consistency you wanted him to be.

And that had been in the works, for the past month.

He was the one who came around, the one to seek you out and that put you in the higher hand when compared to him. You could say no, you wouldn’t but you could and Annabelle would just have to shoo him away with a regretful smile. There were a dozen girls worth half the trouble you were causing him but he liked the trouble, he had signed up for it when he brought you home the first night.

He and you had talked, answering all the questions this time but with a couple white lies here and there. You’d told him about your greedy uncle and about the paintings and he told you about his past and how he came to be the person he was. You’d lied to him when he’d asked you about the number of the guys you’d fucked and you’d amplified and multiplied it. He had just nodded and raised his eyebrows.

He’d lied,too, but you’d caught it.

He lied about before the war and the lost love he had but you saw it in his eyes. He lied about his family when you asked and also about what he did, at least some of the lines of business he was involved in but you didn’t push. He hadn’t shot you after pressing all his buttons and you didn’t have a death wish before solving the puzzle of Alfie Solomons.

You soon find yourself leaning against the exterior wall of the building, on the outside towards the street where there’s no one but you and a couple people walking by. The air is cold but you don’t seem to mind it after borrowing the bride’s fur coat, which she had no idea about as she danced inside. You’d return it when you went back inside but it felt warm against your skin and the material was pleasant.

Alfie thought you looked fucking beautiful.

Annabelle wasn’t supposed to give information about your whereabouts but all he had to was to shoot her an annoyed look and she would tremble under his piercing gaze. Her uncle’s wedding, she had said, she wasn’t so happy about it since the bride is just a little older than she is but she’s gone. Alfie had listened and furrowed his eyebrows before shouting at Ollie to drive to where the wedding was taking place.

And there you were, with rosy cheeks leaning against the cold wall of the building.

He didn’t know why he was there, he didn’t ask himself since he was afraid of the answer. He had felt something similar before, not quite the same but he recalled the pretty lass who’d managed to make his chest feel too tight for his heart.

He wouldn’t say it though, not to himself or anyone else.

He cleared his throat while you kept staring at your shoes. They were new, bought just of the occasion but they were damn uncomfortable so before he could utter a word. he saw you lean down and take the kitten heels off of your feet and step on the cold pavement of the ground. He chuckled in surprise which made you look up, he wondered where all of the hours of etiquette class had gone but he wasn’t complaining.

“Mr. Solomons.” you spoke in a breathy voice, a little less chirpy or seductive compared to usual and he saw it in your eyes too but you were far too quick to cover it all up before he could comment on it.

“‘ello, lass.” he spoke in his usual gruff voice and watched your pretty features scrunch up and stare up at him.

“It seems as though you always end up finding me.” you spoke, genuine suspicion in your voice and you continued with a smirk Alfie knew well. He was glad he had told Ollie to stay put in the car and was the only one to see you beaming up at him. “Are you having me followed?” you chuckled at the end of your sentence and he smiled at your words. 

He wasn’t, not intentionally anyway.

If he had been, you would’ve noticed. You snuck out nearly every night from the school and almost never got caught. Annabelle would hear things the next day if she was lucky but you knew the way the city worked, if someone had followed you, you would know.

“What brings you to this hellhole, then?” you spat out and saw the discontent in his eyes before he covered it up. 

He was almost as good as you in this game, almost.

“Just lookin’ to see the lass.” he spoke, eyes boring into yours as you stood in front of him, looking up since the man was twice as tall as you.

“Hm.” you nodded, looking at the familiar black car and then him. You knew Ollie was in there watching you and Alfie never just came to see you and leave, he was going to take you someplace like he usually did.

“’t’s not fuckin’ fun in there?” he spoke, signalling the large doors that opened up to where the wedding was taking place.

You smiled first and chuckled while you did so, it wasn’t the usual one but he’d take it. Looking at him through fluttered eyelashes, you spoke in a sweet voice that made him stay up all night dreaming of you.

“It’s not my cup of tea, Mr. Solomons.” you said in a breathy voice and he watched, just looked at you for a while.

“Ya’ wanna get out of ‘ere, lass?” he said, meeting your doubtful eyes which were often filled with nothing but trouble and he found that somewhere in there too but it wasn’t as obvious as the last time he’d seen you.

“Am I in trouble?” you spoke through a wicked smile, one Alfie knew well. Maybe too well for his own good, he thought.

“No, lass..” he spoke with a low grin, you could see the amusement seeping off of him. “You, yeah, are the fuckin’ trouble if ya’ ask me.” he spoke through his teeth and earned a wide smirk from you.

You were that, and both of you knew it.

“Well..”you spoke, clutching tighter to your new aunt’s coat as Alfie watched you through glassy eyes. “It’s a shame I didn’t ask.” you said with a lighter tone and it caused Alfie to chuckle loudly, which only made the corners of your lips twitch up in reaction.

You played the game too well.

“Where are you planning on taking me this time?” you spoke in a sweet voice, he saw you regain your usual attitude slowly after the laugh and he was glad it was coming back. He needed it to come back, even if he wasn’t able to admit that to himself yet.

He just shot you a smile and walked away after that, towards the big car where Ollie had been waiting for a while. You followed him, no questions asked or no feeling of fear in the pit of your stomach.

It took two to play this game and you had the upper hand, you always did.

----

It came as a shock to him.

The yards of soil coated in grass were now getting ready for the sunset. There were a few animals here and there, a horse and a group of cows that were nowhere near where Alfie was standing or the sign he’d told you to shoot. Ollie was left in the factory, Alfie had driven you all the way to the suburbs on his own and you felt like that wasn’t very boss-like but it didn’t matter.

“I know how to shoot.”

Your words echoed in his mind for a second.

You were half his age and size, he was sure you had been home-schooled or whatever the rich kids did. The posh people Alfie knew didn’t let their daughters within a one-mile radius of someone who had the possibility of carrying a gun let alone actually teach them.

“You fuckin’ what?” he spoke, a look of surprise coming over him which only made you smile at his expression in return.

Of course you knew how to shoot.

You were an expert at sneaking out and making trouble but that came at a price. Men liked to look at how pretty you looked while you danced but some wanted to touch as well, that’s when self defence became a priority. You could punch them or kick them in the nuts but some were strong so a pistol worked, or the small knife attached to your bra but you wouldn’t tell Alfie that.

“You really need to get your ears checked.” you said, visibly annoyed since he had done the same exact thing the last time he’d seen you. He scoffed at first and then walked over to you, slowly and you just watched.

You didn’t know who was the lion and who was the prey anymore. Not when you had a knife strapped to your bra and a gun in your hands.

“Where the fuck did ya’ learn how to shoot? A lass your age?” he said and you realised he was talking to himself and not you. You let him mumble away for a few seconds before stepping up and speaking. 

“Well, It seems as though I’m old enough for you to come looking for me every damn week so I assume I’m not too young....” you said, still pissed at his comments about your age. He had no problem fucking you with his eyes but brought it up when it had to do with a gun. “...and I learned on my own. For protection.”

He looked at you, from head to toe and nodded as his hands ran through his beard. The sun was slowly setting and the speckles of light caught his skin and beard, illuminating him in a way that you’d only seen in renaissance paintings before. You gulped but composed yourself quickly, you could show no weakness.

“I ain’t comin’ to look for ya’ every fuckin’ week.” he said and you smiled. Out of all the things you had said, he got stuck on the one thing.

“Why is Annabelle giving me so much trouble about your unannounced visits then?” you said, in a heartbeat and he smiled at you, just smiled for a solid second before turning away. You were quick to answer your question since you had found out that Alfie wasn’t a fan of doing that.

“Either she wants to fuck you or is genuinely annoyed.” you spat and he turned in one swift motion, facing you again with the ghost of a smirk you’d seen earlier.

“Eh?” he made a sound of encouragement mixed with confusion. Alfie was used to you being so forward but every now and then, it still caught him off guard.

You nodded as a way to confirm the first assumption and spoke again, you were walking next to him as he slowly moved towards the target he had told you to shoot. You looked too comfortable with a gun in your hand, he thought as he watched your lips move.

“You tell me which one, although I have a pretty good idea.” you spoke through a fit of giggles and he watched your features change under the afternoon light.

He was utterly fucked.

“Ain’t she a fuckin’ old maid?” he voiced his opinion and earned a sweet smile from you. You nodded again, a bit quicker this time and fought a fiddle of giggles before speaking.

“She is.” you licked your lips and spoke as Alfie stared at you under the setting sun. 

Your hair was all over the place, cheeks red due to the cold weather and he wanted to kiss your nose, warm you up but the game was still on so he composed himself, settled for the inappropriate dreams he’d been having for the past month since you’d been in his house.

“She’s about your age, I think.” you spat out without looking at him and he made a hurt noise, his way of saying that he was offended but the shocked face turned into a small smirk as he spoke, hand tugging at his beard like it usually was and for a moment, your eyes got stuck on his golden rings.

“I ain’t as old as you fuckin’ think I am, lass.” he spoke and you smiled at him. You knew he was significantly older but neither of you had voiced it before but you didn’t think it mattered. He could be as old as he wanted but he’d still be the only person who was able to keep up with you.

“And I’m not as young as you think I am, Mr. Solomons.” you spoke under your breath, eyes at your shoes as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. He wasn’t dangerously close but the warmth of his skin spread through yours.

He waited for a moment, looked at the delicate features of your face as you offered him a gentle smile, contrasting the cold air around. He knew you were older, you just looked younger and it didn’t bother him. If anything, he figured it was perfect since he appeared to be older than he was. 

The game was fun, he would admit. Like a breath of fresh air in the dull life he seemed to lead, although you would speak to differ since every act that came from the man was everything but boring. You licked your lips, ready to answer any question thrown your way with a bit of sass you carried around with you. He couldn’t figure you out for the life of him, it drove him mad to think about you yet it seemed to be all he was capable of doing those days.

“Ya’ play so hard to get...Will I ever catch ya’?” he sounded confused, convinced that it would never happen somehow but you would slow down at some point, he just didn’t know it.

Men liked chasing girls dressed in pretty lace and with bright, beaming eyes. You were that girl, had been chased by many but you’d never found it in yourself to stop and look back, none were interesting enough to do that. They wanted superficial things, a fuck or a dance or maybe the thrill of being with a girl every cockney banged on about but there was nothing real in those kind of relationships.

But you figured, since Alfie was proving to be nothing like those men, you’d slow down just a little.

Not now though, but sometime in the future.

“Maybe If your sciatica gets better, you might have a decent shot at it, Mr. Solomons.” you spoke through a beaming smile and the words and the redness on your nose caused Alfie to laugh. He still wanted to kiss you, he realised.

“‘s Alfie, luv.” he reminded for the countless time, but he knew it was useless. He liked the way you said it anyway, much better than anyone he’s heard.

“Sure it is.” you spoke through a half-hearted giggle and started walking towards the car.

He had brought you here to teach you how to shoot but you knew how to do it already, he felt an ease in his gut knowing that. Men around London were dangerous and although he’d speak to differ that you were more lethal than any man he’d seen, a woman could never be too careful. He knew.

He watched you get in the car without the usual help from Ollie, realised something along the way. If he were honest with himself, he had realised it some time ago but he wouldn’t admit to it, took all the fun in his eyes. He smiled at you before looking at the sunset one last time.

The thrill of this would pass but Alfie was sure it would leave a sweet aftertaste. The days were short now, the time washed over the clock like an unexpected tidal wave from a once calm sea. There was a siren calling out to him, enticing him with her words each time she spoke but the siren had no intention of killing him in a cruel way. She was too soft for that, although many saw her as a killer trap.

The siren was you, and you were so beautiful under the sunset as you waved at him from the car.

I might die, he thought. I might die and it would be because of her, he said to himself as he looked at your smile. He soon concluded that he didn’t mind that at all. He would prefer it to the slow bleeding of a knife wound or the quick and efficient house of a bullet in between his blue orbs.

That was how it started, with the handsome sailor ignoring all the warnings.

The amateurs didn’t see the warnings before the siren engulfed them, ate them whole and left no trace. The beginners would be fooled quickly but no, Alfie wasn’t new to this. He knew that the captains went to the sirens on purpose, not because they were fooled but because the siren was a new source of hope in a different world.

And the times had changed.

“Silly girl.” Alfie mumbled to himself after getting into the car. You were sitting quietly next to him, in an unusual manner where you were almost sulking.

You realised, once you sat in the car and gazed out the window to see the now fading orange sky, that until that very point it had always been Alfie who would seek you out. He’d mostly paid you unannounced visits at the school but sometimes, he’d catch you during your weekly shopping trips or even the library. Never during the nights when you’d sneak out to go dancing in the pubs.

Although he knew all about it, you knew the faces of his men by this point. The man who’d follow you in and out of school.

So you decided that it was time for a simple yet revolting change. You’d invite him out this time, in a less more proper manner than he had.

You had it all planned out and he had no idea. You let him drive you to the school, commenting on how boring his old man stories were and he just chuckled and mumbled something under his breath. You let him drop you off, a gentle kiss on your cheek and the cold feel of his rings against your hand as he whispered in your ear, “I’ll see you soon, luv.”. You waved at him as he left.

He had no idea of the hurricane that was about to hit him.

So you got ready, lace all over your body in a sheer dress. You wore your favourite kitten heels and just a simple lip just how Alfie liked it. It was time for a little play, something to tip his interest further. It wasn’t like you’d lost it but men were very easily distracted. So you’d created a masterplan to remedy the problem you thought you had. Your hair was let down, tickling your shoulders as you swayed your hips in the fur coat that had belonged to the new bride in your family but the wedding was long forgotten. 

You wouldn’t fuck him, you didn’t think.

Or maybe you would, you said to yourself as you approached his large house. The nerves were near but so was he and you had no intentions of fucking this up. He was an interesting one, one worth keeping and you would make sure of it.

Nine pm. The air cold around your shoulders as a smile graced your lips. You were supposed to be in the tea room, blocks away from where you were standing in front of a stranger’s door.

Well, not so much of a stranger anymore.

One knock, and then another.

His voice filled the other side of the door, a smile graced your lips and you braced yourself for the night, for the look of surprise that would surely be cast on his handsome features.

One inhale, one genuine smile and the swift motion of the door opening.

There he was, your handsome stranger.

And you’d kiss him that night.

-----

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum @fuseburner​ @r-rose08​ @innerpaperexpertcloud 

a/n: They will kiss soon and do more stuff :) so stay tuned pls and lemme know if you liked the chapter!! This somehow ended up being a slow-burn type of thing but oh well :)

and happy new year, dear ones! I hope it’s a good year for all!

[chudleycanonficfest]

Dancing Around You

Day 31, Post #2 by @adenei

Title: Dancing Around You

Author: adenei

Pairing: James x Lily

Prompt: First Date

Rating: T 

TW: Some language and mentions of past abuse.

a/n: inspired by the scene in In The Heights when Vanessa and Usnavi go to the club.

*****************

I walk into the corner shop in my neighborhood and see James, Remus and Sirius talking by the counter. The scene causes more annoyance to course through me, which probably stems from the shit mood I’m already in. James and Sirius are supposed to be working, since this is their job. And why isn’t Remus at the broadcast station across the street at his own job?

So what if James owned the shop after it was left to him when his parents passed? Work is still work, and he shouldn’t be skiving off while on shift. I’ve busted my arse day in and day out for the last three years so I could save up to rent a flat in Camden to pursue a career as an interior designer. Moving out of Peckham to a more centralized location will help put me on the map as a well sought after designer.

But that was all for nothing. I’ve just returned from my meeting with the realtor, and despite having enough rent saved up for a whole year, plus the security deposit, he waved me off as if I belonged in the slums! The twat said I needed someone to co-sign a lease with me. Tears sting my eyes as I’m reminded once again of how alone I am. Having walked out at seventeen to escape my parents’ emotional abuse for the last seven years, I had no one to turn to despite the close-knit neighborhood I lived in because this was a secret goal that no one knew about.

I’m sure Marlene’s mum would be more than happy to co-sign a lease with me, but I couldn’t ask that of her. Not when she’s done so much for me already. No, I just need to hold my head high and keep moving forward. I put on my business face and strengthen my resolve, so the boys don’t suspect anything out of the ordinary.

Walking over to the fridge, I grab a Fanta and a Coke for Mrs. McKinnon. When I left the office earlier for my appointment, she asked me to bring one back. Now, I have to return to my job as her secretary at her own Real Estate office and try not to resent every client who walks in the door. When I shut the refrigerator door and turn to head to the register, I see James leaning against the glass of another fridge door.

When the hell did he creep up on me?

“Evans, how’s it going?”

“It’s been better.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

For a moment, I think about letting him in. I open my mouth to say something, but change my mind at the last second.

“You wish.”

“Right, well, what are you doing tomorrow?”

Narrowing my eyes, I observe James. We’ve been friends for years, and it’s a friendship I cherish more than anything. He’s always been there to make me laugh, to match my sarcasm and wit, and he’s never been afraid to go toe-to-toe with me. I know him well, almost as well as I know myself, but I’m not expecting his question or the butterflies that flutter in my stomach in response.

I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t attractive. His perpetual bedhead, black hair and piercing yet kind hazel eyes have always stood out to me. It’s no secret that he’s fit from lifting boxes all day and playing on a club football team in his free time. But I’ve never allowed myself to think there could be anything more between us besides friendship.

So, why does it feel like he’s asking me out? Am I misreading the signs? I decide to keep the ball in his court to get a better read on his intentions.

“I’m going dancing with Marlene and Mary,” I reply, keeping my voice cool and collected.

“Oh, sounds like fun.” He glances down at the bottles in my hands. “All set, then?”

I nod, and If I’m not mistaken, his shoulders slump as he turns to head back to the counter. Should I have invited him and the guys to join us? Before I can ponder it further, Sirius cuts me off and pushes me back into the aisle.

“You and the girls are going dancing? That sounds like fun. I’d bet my buddy over there would love to join you.” He raises his eyebrows as if willing me to catch his subtle hint, which I do.

“Wait, was James just trying to ask me out tomorrow?”

Sirius shrugs. “Probably, but you two have been friends forever, and despite his smooth-talking with most females, he seems to get tongue-tied around you.”

A burst of laughter bubbles out of me. “James? Tongue-tied? Around me? What are you smoking?”

“Nothing, Evans. Just pointing out a fact.”

Fine, if Sirius is going to pester me about this, I will prove him wrong. I brush past him toward James so I can pay for the drinks and be on my way. Sliding a couple pounds to James over the counter, I smirk at him.

“You know, Potter, I could use a dancing partner tomorrow night. Pick me up at eight?”

His head snaps up, and he looks shocked before a goofy smile replaces the surprise on his face. “Er, yeah, alright. I mean, if you’re sure—”

Cutting him off, I put him out of his misery. “Great, see you then.”

The following evening, we’re walking into Alohomora, the most popular nightclub in Peckham. My friends and I frequent the club at least once a month. I love its mix of neons glowing amongst the blacklights and the worn leather benches framing the booths around the perimeter of the dance floor. It’s come to feel like a second home to me.

Dancing is an outlet for my frustrations. I love letting the music consume my soul as the loud thumps of the bass vibrate through my body as I spin on the floor. Tonight will be no different, except that James is with me. As my date. At least, I think he’s my date. Neither of us have actually talked about what this is.

“Wow, I haven’t been here in ages. Have they changed the layout recently?” James asks.

“Not that I can recall,” I wave his question off as I hear a number of people shout my name in greeting.

“I didn’t realize how popular you were here, Evans. I’m impressed.”

“Impressed by what? It shouldn’t come as a surprise that I have more friends than you three. I hope that doesn’t make you jealous.” My playful banter is accompanied by a smirk as James laughs.

“Me? Jealous? Of course not. Care for a drink first?”

“Sure.”

Usually, I’d prefer to dance a bit first, but I don’t want to drag James onto the dance floor if he doesn’t want to. I’m not even sure if he enjoys dancing since I’ve never seen him here before. He’s flagging down the bartender when someone calls to me.

“Lily! Hey, Lily!” Terry Fawcett is pushing his way through the crowded dance floor. “Wanna dance?”

He holds out his hand when he reaches me, but I shake my head.

“Sorry, Ter, I’m here with someone else tonight.”

James turns as he overhears the interaction and waves me on. He contorts his face in a weird, ‘trying to be chill, but still looks sort of pained’ way.

“It’s alright, Evans, go ahead.”

I’m taken aback. Maybe we really weren’t on a date. “But—are you sure?”

“Yeah, just save one for me later.”

“Oh, well, alright.”

My hand falls into Terry’s even though I’m not certain I want to dance with him. There’s an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach that I’m not used to as I walk away from James. It’s ridiculous, but I think I’m actually disappointed that James passed me off so easily. And I’m just as mad at Sirius for even putting the thought that James might fancy me in my head because it’s all I’ve been able to think about since yesterday afternoon.

Well, there’s only one way to find out once and for all if he cares. Make him jealous.

I dance as I’ve never danced before when the music changes to an upbeat Latin tune. I spin around the floor, dancing with Terry before I’m passed off to other men that I’ve danced with once or twice in the past. It takes everything in my power to not steal glances at James, but I do catch when his baffled look turns dark as he begins to scowl at the men who are practically lined up to dance with me.

By the time he does walk out to the dance floor to cut in, I’m exhausted. He pulls me into his arms, but I’m still annoyed that he’s waited this long.

“Potter, I need a break.”

I pull away from him and walk toward the bar, where Sirius holds two drinks in his hands. I grab one and slam it down, shoving the glass into his chest once it’s empty. Then, I turn and head for the exit to get some air. It’s much quieter on the street, save for the ambient sounds of traffic in the background, a stark contrast to inside the club. I lean against the wall as I catch my breath and watch the cars go by.

The door to the club opens, and the music splits the night air as James steps out.

“Evans, what the hell was that?”

“What was what?” I ask, feigning ignorance.

What? Is he angry? Good. Let him be angry.

“You! You ask me to come with you, spend all night dancing with other blokes, and then when I try to cut in, you ditch me.”

A derisive bark escapes my lips as I push off the wall and step closer to him, matching his stance.

“Don’t you dare try to blame this on me, Potter. You’re the one who pushed me away! I would have been perfectly happy dancing with you all night, but no, you sat back and watched as I danced with everyone else.”

“Well, what was I supposed to do!?”

He can’t be serious right now, playing the victim and passing this onto me. There’s no way I’m letting him get away with this. I step even closer, thankful that my heels bring me closer to eye level with him, so it’s more of an even match.

“I don’t know, put your arm around me and tell the bloke to fuck off? That I’m taken?”

“Are you taken?”

“I don’t know, am I?”

Our breathing is heavy, chests heaving as our noses are a hair’s width apart. All I can focus on is the intensity in his eyes, the gold flecks burning like the flames in a fire. I wait for him to say something, or do something, anything except stare at me. I give him more than enough time, and he doesn’t make a move, so I decide that I’m done.

As much as I don’t want to, I break eye contact and turn away. I’m not in the mood to stay out, so I begin the walk home. James and I are friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be, but that doesn’t stop me from cursing Sirius for putting the thought that we could be more in my head. Because now that I’ve accepted the thought, I’m not sure I want to stay friends. But it’s clear now, this wasn’t meant to be anything special, and I was stupid for thinking it could be.

[casually-slips-into-coma]

An Essay (sort of) Explaining the Many Grievances I Have With Debbie Gallagher

Once again, Debbie is the fucking worst.

I’ve been wanting to write out my feelings towards her character for a fucking minute now just so that I have a full concise list. Now, I can talk about how Debbie has a constant need for attention, or how her character has become someone unrecognizable in the past few seasons, or how she’s a terrible mother, but what I really want to focus on is the center of my issues with her: her sexuality. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t about to be a homophobic rant or anything. I just think her queer development has been written terribly and that should be addressed.

Too often I see people praising queer characters or relationships based solely on the fact that they are queer, and as a member of the community, I get it. I am also starved for representation. This, however, does not mean I’m going to settle for annoying, poorly written characters.

Why Make Debbie Queer?

The first thing I want to address is why suddenly develop a WLW storyline for her. Given that Debbie started as a little girl on the show, this gives the writers a lot of opportunity to give a character like that interesting storylines because she does not yet have a solid personality. It gives writers the liberty to take her story anywhere they want to without the constraints of established character because she, as a person, is still developing into adulthood. The show runners unfortunately dropped the ball with this.

From season 4 and onwards was when Debbie began showing interest in dating, sex, and romance having just turned the corner to puberty. From then up until season 9, she has shown exclusive interest in men. It isn’t until Alex the welder that Debbie deviates from this path. Alex is portrayed as a stud who confuses Debbie. I am inclined to believe that Debbie was originally attracted to her because she was masculine and therefore close enough to the people Debbie had previous experience with.

This arc was treated very much as Debbie experimenting with her sexuality, something that Alex also ends up realizing after Debbie tells her that having sex with a girl is “not that bad” and “like having sex with yourself” (S9E4). Once this storyline wrapped up (with Debbie shouting “you make me want cock again”) the writers powered through, adamant about Debbie now being a lesbian.

I have two theories as to why they’ve been fighting so hard for her queerness.

1) This was around the time that Cam was leaving Shameless. This obviously didn’t end up happening, but I was under the impression that the writers were freaking out at losing their token gay character and needed to fill that position. When Cam ended up staying, they were stuck with a queer Debbie storyline and decided to just go with it.

2) Shameless was planning on doing a WLW storyline regardless of Cam’s choice to leave and were originally going to give it to Fiona and her lesbian tenant that she had a close relationship and a lot of chemistry with, but Emmy Rossum wanted to move on from Shameless, and so they pivoted and gave the arc to Debbie, a character that was not supposed to be moved in that direction and so her new sexuality seemingly came out of nowhere. Fiona as a bisexual character would have made sense. Debbie still does not.

Shameless’s Awkward Relationship With Bisexuality

One of the biggest issues I have with Debbie is her insistence on being a lesbian. Lesbianism doesn’t come out of nowhere. Bisexuality, however, can. When you grow up being told that you are supposed to feel attraction to men, and you genuinely do feel attraction to men (which Debbie has expressed in past seasons/episodes) it’s easy to ignore your attraction to women and write it off as something that either isn’t a big deal, or something that isn’t there. It’s a lot more confusing than being strictly at one end of the spectrum. It would have been so much more believable if they had simply made Debbie bisexual. Unsurprisingly, they didn’t because the show has a history with bi erasure.

Bisexuality has been treated badly all throughout Shameless, used as a vengeful plot device back in the earlier seasons where Monica was only ever with women when unmedicated. Then in Season 7 when Ian’s boyfriend Caleb cheated on him with a woman (enforcing the stereotype of bisexuals being unfaithful) Ian, possibly acting out of anger or ignorance, said things like “only women are bisexual. When a man says he’s bisexual he’s really just gay”. The only semi positive bisexual representation on the show was Svetlana and Vee when they were in a poly relationship with Kev (though I also think that storyline wasn’t handled as well as it could’ve been).

This fight against the bisexual label in media is not a new one but it is also a harmful stance to take when writing a sexually fluid character. Debbie declaring that she is, in fact, a lesbian after waxing poetic about how Matty had a big dick and Derek had a great body and knew what he was doing is not the way to go. 

You could argue that Debbie, like many other queer women, is an unfortunate victim of compulsory heterosexuality, but frankly I don’t think the writers are well versed enough in queer theory for that to be a possibility.

Debbie as The White Feminist

Debbie is the pinnacle of white feminism. It’s an unfortunate thought that has occurred to me a few times throughout the show. She talks a big game as a man hater and someone after the equal treatment of women but she herself participates in a lot of problematic and anti feminist behavior.

For one, she r*ped Matty back in season 5 when he was blacked out and unconscious. This was a point in the story that was glossed over and one where she suffered no repercussions other than Matty no longer wanting to be around her. It was explained in the show that Debbie didn’t realize what she did was wrong until after she was explicitly told so because she was maybe 14 when it happened (not 100% on the age Shameless is very inconsistent about timelines). It was treated as somewhat of a punchline, something that Shameless has unfortunately done more than once when referring to male sexual assault (Mickey’s r*pe, Liam in season 10 ((i think??)) and in this latest season, Carl) but that is a different topic. 

There was also the time in which she lied to her boyfriend about being on birth control so she could trap him into a relationship with pregnancy (which also counts as r*pe!!) Good on Derek for getting out of that.

Debbie has also been pro-life in the past. Now I understand this was when Fiona was pressuring her into aborting her pregnancy, and as a pro choicer myself, I believe that Debbie was fully in her right to have bodily autonomy and go through with the pregnancy. This isn’t where the issue lies. It’s when Fiona finds out that she too is pregnant and tells Debbie that she wants an abortion that Debbie accuses her of “killing her baby”. Again, her behavior could be explained by her age given that Debbie was still a young teen during this time.

When her actions as a White Feminist become less excusable is mostly in the latest season. Her relationship with Sandy is one that I’m not really happy with because Debbie doesn’t deserve her.

Recently, it has been revealed that Sandy is actually married to a man and has a son. It’s explained that she was basically married off against her will at the age of 15 to a man twice her age. This implies that the product of the marriage, her son, was most likely conceived through dubious consent (or worse) at the hands of an adult when she was just a kid. Just because Debbie thinks that Sandy’s husband “seems nice” does not give her the right to try and make a victim of grooming feel bad about not wanting to be with her abuser. While I understand that Sandy’s son has no fault in how he came into the world, I’m still gonna side with Sandy when it comes to having to take care of a child she didn’t want and who is most likely a source of trauma for her. It’s not difficult to sympathize with Sandy and see that she’s clearly gone through something fucked up and Debbie, despite claiming to love and support her, AND despite her dumb white feminist arc about wanting equal pay and all that jazz, turns her back on the girls supporting girls aspect of feminism.

This isn’t even mentioning how shitty it was to just leave Franny by herself and assume that one of her siblings would take her to school and pick her up and stuff as if they don’t all have separate lives. She talks a lot about being a good mother but decided to “let off some steam” by fucking off to a gay bar to get loaded on coke and fuck a gay man (which wtf thats not a thing that really happens with casual coke but whatever I guess). Once she realized she fucked up, instead of taking responsibility she decided to paint herself as the victim as well as spew offensive bullshit about how she “probably has AIDS now” because of her sexual encounter with a gay man. No lesbian in their right fucking mind would ever say that because as members of the LGBTQ+ community, you are at least a tiny bit informed as to how devastating and tragic the AIDS crisis was for queer people.

(I also have an issue with how Debbie capitalized on her felony as a sex offender and her sexuality to start her Hot Lesbian Convict business but I think that’s enough said.)

Blame the writers

The show got almost an entirely new cast of writers after season 7 which is why the show feels more like a sitcom with low stakes and no consequences rather than a drama, but if there is a queer writer on the team it’s not very evident. Even the better half of the queer relationship story, Ian and Mickey, I don’t feel has really been done justice since the change in writers. It’s just become painfully obvious that the actress is a straight girl playing a gay character (not to mention I have never seen any chemistry between her and all of her female love interests). I don’t fault Emma Kenney (the actress) for this. I actually really like her as a person and I like the videos she makes about the cast and such, and I think she does her best with the script she’s given. My complaints with Debbie are targeted entirely towards the writers.

This brings me to my final point. I need them to let Debbie be alone. Her whole thing for the second half of the season has been that she clearly has abandonment issues and is afraid of being alone. It’s why she’s so adamant about keeping the house and fighting with Lip about it (I’m actually on Debbie’s side for that one but that’s besides the point). They had her and Sandy break up which leaves Debbie to spiral further into her loneliness. From a writing point of view, it makes sense to take this opportunity to give her an arc in which she can overcome that and feel comfortable with herself so that she can move on as an adult instead of jumping into a new relationship. This is especially true since this is quite literally the last season ever of the show and any character development needs to be wrapped up. Introducing a new character out of nowhere does not give the viewers enough time to actually get invested in the new relationship. It’s also unfair to Debbie’s character because her arc is going to feel incomplete.

Anyway,,,,,,uuuhhhhh,,,,,feel free to add on if u want lmao

[sophiainspace]

💫 for that ask deal. Coldwest or whoever you're feeling I guess!

It took a wild heart to tame mine

And it took a wild heart to charm

Now a wild heart’s gone and floored me…

Who wants a love that makes sense anyway?

- ‘Wild Heart’, Mumford & Sons

Complicated Feelings

(Ficlet - Iris West/Leonard Snart)

Joe: Anger

“That man is a murderer!” her dad yells.

It’s almost funny that he still thinks he can frighten Iris away from the guys he disapproves of, as if it’s any of his business. It’s the most irritating version of ‘scared straight’ Iris ever heard of. The fact that she has a bad habit of being attracted to guys her father has personally arrested, is neither here nor there. And it didn’t even help when Iris dated his partner, so it’s pretty clear no guy is ever going to be good enough for Joe West’s (twenty-eight-year-old) little girl.

Still, this is a fairly extreme reaction, even for her dad. He’s currently standing in the West family living room, his face screwed up in such rage that Iris is a little concerned he’s about to burst a vital blood vessel.

Iris rolls her eyes.

This is apparently a mistake; her dad just gets louder. “Are you even taking this seriously, Iris? I’ve personally arrested that guy! Twice! In two different decades!” He shakes a disapproving head. “You wanna come with me down to the station right now? I’ll show you his damn record. Then you can decide if that’s the kind of man you wanna date.”

On the sofa, Iris folds one leg over the other. When she speaks, she tries hard not to match her dad’s volume. Getting quieter is an old trick, that sometimes calms him down a bit. “I know what’s in his record, Dad.”

“How?” her dad demands. He loses a couple of decibels of volume in his curious tone, which is a good sign.

Iris makes a really good attempt not to look smug. She probably fails. “He showed me.”

“He WHAT?”

Iris rubs her ears pointedly, and shrugs. “He helped me break into the CCPD archive building one night. I needed to look at some Santini records for a story I’m working on.” She gives Joe an innocent smile. “Don’t worry, Dad - it was just the archives. I’d never break into the main precinct. I’m not that dumb, and Leonard sure as hell isn’t.”

When her dad rubs a hand down his face and slumps into the seat next to her, Iris knows she’s won. Joe sighs. “Okay. We’ll come back to you breaking and entering right into police property in a minute.”

“Sure, Dad,” she says cheerfully.

He turns his head to look at her. The anger has drained away, leaving real fear in its place. There you are. Iris can deal with worry. As long as her dad is honest about his motivations, she can handle him. “Baby girl, are you really sure about this?” Her dad takes her hand. “I know, I know - you’re a grown-up…”

Progress. Iris nods. “I am, and I can make my own decisions about who I spend my time with.”

She carefully avoids the word date, just as she has for the past five weeks.

“Even terrible damn decisions like Leonard Snart,” her dad mutters.

Iris raises an eyebrow.

Joe sighs in defeat. “I’m just scared for you, baby girl.”

Her poor dad. He keeps trying to keep her out of danger, and it’s a losing battle. Iris squeezes his hand, almost sympathetic. “I know. I promise I’ll be careful, okay? Besides.” She aims a warm smile at him. “It’s not serious. This thing’ll probably be done in a week or two. So you don’t have to worry, okay?”

Lifting Iris’s hand to his lips to kiss it, her dad nods. “So that’s two of you with a thing for criminals,” he mutters.

Iris doesn’t know what that comment is about, and she doesn’t ask. She’s almost glad when the conversation moves on from Leonard Snart. Even if it does turn to Iris’s criminal behaviour, and whether her dad is obliged to report her. Iris has to fight a smile for the whole of his lecture, knowing there’s no way he’s turning her in. When your daughter is the light of your life, ‘scared straight’ will only ever be an act.

Barry: Concern

In the middle of the Cortex, her best friend worries at his lip. “You know he’s a killer, right?”

That really is everyone’s excuse for keeping her from seeing Leonard, isn’t it? Iris folds her arms. “No, Barr. I’d managed to miss that fact entirely. Thanks so much for pointing it out.” She pulls back on the sharp tone when he gives her a look. “And he hasn’t hurt anyone in a long time. Not since that deal of yours. You know, the one that had you saying you could see the good in him? It’s almost like you were trying to reform him.” She shoots him a smug grin.

Barry chuckles, glancing away to the Flash suit - and something strange crosses his face. It would be almost imperceptible to anyone else. But Iris is not just anyone.

Oh.

“Barr,” she asks, stepping carefully around from behind the desk, “you’re not jealous, are you?”

Barry looks back at her with a smile that, if she doesn’t look too closely, is hardly tinged with sadness at all. “Why would I be jealous? I hate to break it to you, Iris, but I got over you a while ago.”

Iris she doesn’t mention the alternative option. If Barry isn’t going to acknowledge the obvious, it’s best if she doesn’t.

But when she thinks he’s not looking, Iris gazes at him. He’s staring at the Flash suit again, his eyes so sad it’s going to break her heart. How long has the poor boy been in love with Leonard Snart?

It seems to take Barry a minute to make it back to the here and now. “I’m just a little concerned, that’s all.” He lays a friendly hand on her arm. “You’ll stay safe, won’t you, Iris?”

Iris matches Barry’s too-cheerful smile, like fake flowers in summer, with one of her own. “Of course I will. Don’t worry, Barr.” She turns away to the door.

When she reaches it, she spins on her heel to get another glimpse of him. Barry is back to staring into empty space with empty eyes. Iris knows he won’t want her pity, but she can give him something. “I’m just having fun, okay?”

He glances back at her. “Are you?” he asks, a little too softly.

Iris tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Of course I am. Did you really think Leonard Snart would want things to get serious?”

She walks away without looking back. Best not to give Barry a chance to call her bluff.

Leonard: Love

“I hope you’re aware that all my friends and family have very complicated feelings about you.” Iris drops her weekend bag on the hotel room bed, winking at Leonard.

The man himself is stretched out on the bed like a big, lithe cat. One leg folded over the other; hands linked behind his head. It’s just the sort of cocky, lazy pose that’s designed to get Iris hot. She’s not going to tell him it’s working already. “Is that right?” he purrs. He pats the bed next to him.

Iris jumps on greedily, falling into his arms. His kiss is warm and inviting, a delightful welcome-home even in the bleakly familiar mid-budget hotel surroundings, with all the identical fixtures and fittings as every other hotel they’ve stayed in, every weekend for the past five weeks. “Mmm,” she murmurs against his lips - so soft and gentle it surprised her, when they first started this little fling. So far from what she’d expected. But by now she’s learned that Leonard Snart always defies expectations. “I’ve missed you.”

“Not like I’ve missed you.” His voice is so sincere, it scares her a little.

But no more than she can handle.

“So.” Leonard lazes back against the headboard, lifting an arm so she can snuggle in against his side - and she never says no to that offer. She wriggles into his embrace, sighing out all the stress of the week as she listens to Leonard talk. “Tell me about these complicated feelings your people have about me. I might be kinda flattered.”

“Kinda?” Iris raises an eyebrow. A full-of-himself criminal winks back at her. “Well, let’s see. The whole of STAR Labs found out that I’m sleeping with you, all at once - alcohol was involved, and no, you’re not getting that story.” Leonard grins, but lets her continue. “Cisco said he could not in good conscience talk to me while I was dating a supervillain who’d once kidnapped him, and slammed his lab door, and then he had to come back for half his stuff, and then he said maybe if you apologise, he’ll think about being okay with it.”

“An apology, huh?” For a moment, Leonard looks as unsure as Iris has ever seen him. Then he shrugs. “Guess that can be arranged.” He sneaks her a little smile when he thinks she’s not looking. “If it’d make you happy.”

Iris hums and kisses him again, just a light touch of her lips on his. He makes the cutest happy noise - it’s enough to set her heart fluttering in her chest. “It might,” she murmurs. “Hmm, who else… Caitlin was tight-lipped for a few days, but then she admitted she thinks you’re hot, and Frost turned up to say that, if she dated men, you’d be pretty high on her list too, and a few other unsettling things along the lines of you go, girl, so I think I’ve won them over.”

Leonard throws back his head and laughs. He looks too beautiful for words when he does that. “Well, these sound like complicated feelings with acceptable resolutions.” He reaches out a hand for her face, stroking her cheek, a touch of concern on his face. The fluttering in Iris’s chest kicks up a gear. “So that can’t be all of it, if everyone in that goody-two-shoes hero store found out at once.”

Iris’s gaze drops to the blanket beneath them. “My dad and I had a fight for the ages,” she admits, with more of a wobble in her voice than she intends. “Worse than when I dated Lee Tarrant when I was sixteen, and he was a coke dealer.” Leonard’s snort is delightful, persuading Iris to entertain him a little more. “In the end I distracted Dad with something else… and now you might have a standing invitation to the weekly West family dinner.” Iris pats a horrified-looking Leonard on the back. “Cecile and Jenna are your way in. Bring Jenna presents. Not stolen ones. My dad will love you in… maybe a week or two.”

Leonard lets out a disbelieving snort.

“Okay, a month might be more realistic,” Iris admits, attempting a grin. She’s a little worried at the distant look that’s turned up in Leonard’s eyes.

“Go on,” he says softly, as if he needs thinking time. “Anyone else express complicated feelings about yours truly this week?”

“Just Barry.” Iris feels the way Leonard goes still against her, but she doesn’t draw attention to it.

Leonard makes a quiet little hmm sound. “Don’t tell me the Flash wants me dead too. Even when I’m fucking his best friend, that seems out of character for our beloved hero.”

Iris gets the sense she needs to tread carefully here. “No, he wasn’t mad. He was a little worried, but mostly he seemed kind of… sad.”

“Is that right?” Leonard’s eyes are a deep, dark mirror of Barry’s, back in the Cortex.

So there is a story there. But Iris is not going to push for it now. She just leans in and kisses him, one more time.

When they finally part, Leonard is gazing at her like he’s seeing her for the first time. She smiles… and he clears his throat. “So. West family dinner, huh?”

Iris snuggles back in under his arm. “Yep.”

“With your dad and not-stepmom and baby sis.”

Damn. He’s really thinking about it. “Yep.” Iris holds her breath.

“…And Barry.”

“Of course.” Barry is a non-negotiable, if Leonard cares about her. Whatever complicated feelings those are, she hopes she’s worth getting past them.

(When did she start hoping she was worth anything to him?)

Leonard makes an oddly thoughtful sound. “And I never have to go anywhere near STAR Labs?”

Iris lets out the breath she was holding. “I give you a couple of months before you’re dying to, just to annoy them all and play the dashing not-at-all-hero while you’re at it… but, no, that is not required.”

Leonard licks his lips, clearly hiding a smile. He rolls them both over, ending up on top of her. She giggles and lets him stay there, just for a minute. Leonard murmurs, “A couple of months, huh? Is that how long you think this thing is gonna last, Iris?”

Her heart is doing that flip-flop thing again. There’s a strong, gorgeous man above her, his muscled, careful arms either side of her head, and - oh, fuck it. She wants to keep this. “Well. I guess that depends.”

He tilts his head. “I’ll bite. Depends on what?”

In a graceful second, Iris has switched their positions, straddling him. His eyes darken with lust. Iris wants to hold onto that look for as long as she can. Maybe a whole lot longer than two more months. “On how long I can keep you interested,” she teases.

Leonard winks at her.

The next kiss leads to another, and another…

Iris lies beside at him in the afterglow, just enjoying his arms around her.

As his beautiful eyes hold her gaze, he asks her, “What are you thinking about?”

She and Leonard have told each other a lot of lies during the past month or so. Iris has told herself even more.

It’s just a fling.

One more weekend, and we’ll call it quits.

We’re just having fun.

I’m not in love.

But Iris is done with the lies. “Complicated feelings,” she replies, cupping her boyfriend’s cheek. “And I don’t mean my friends’ feelings.” She meets his trusting gaze. “I mean mine… and yours.”

His laugh, surprised but delighted, is everything she could need in an answer.

[wigglebox]

I don't think it'll insult anyone but I'll x the name in case :) :

I just was reminded by this, I remember at least 10 years ago (I feel old, I only turned 25 the other day), I had a big crush on RDJ, and ofc I had a friend who was like ew because he's essentially the same age as my mum (this was before I even had a tumblr - which is where years later that it's totally normal to have crushes on men twice your age, and low and behold I would continue crushing on elder celebrities, the youngest being Taron Egerton - I like to joke to people that someday I'll marry him, but that's a story for another time.

ANYWAY my friend her parents and my dad were going to see a movie and they were like (idk who said this) why don't you have a crush on X or something since he's apparently closer or more appropriate to crush on considering he's a lot younger (he was 11 years older than me) (also I just realised that Misha Collins is like 11 years younger than RDJ, who I co-crushed on - I say co-crushed because I was also crushing on Jensen and Misha after crushing on rdj).

I think my point is, after thinking about that incident with one of the adults saying I should have a crush on x actor instead, it can age like milk cause you didn't do your research or you're just crushing on someone because everyone else is - and then suddenly it just something happens.

I guess also in another aspect had I crushed on any sort of celebrity just because everyone else would be doing it, it would be masking of some sort because I would be trying to fit in (I am on the spectrum after all and movies/actors was/kinda is, although has died down a bit one of my special interest)s Don't blindly crush on a celebrity just because someone says you should have a crush on that person instead because it's more 'socially respectful' without doing your research. Also masking is a big issue amongst the autism/aspergers community, especially women. I think that's what is so good about fandom in a way because you realise it's actually normal to have such crushes on actors that are that age e.g. Jensen Ackles is like around the same age as my aunt.

I should probably say that said actor got ‘cancelled and in a tonne of controversy years later so in a way lesson is don’t crush on a celebrity just because everyone else is, crush on a celebrity if your judgement is telling you that that person is a good person

sorry nonny you dropped this then i had two work meetings lol.

but yeah i remember getting some weird looks from friends or my mom when i said i had a little crush on alan rickman like man i loved that man! but he was older than both my parents at the time.

i also had a crush on danrad but i also really liked him! i always gravitated to having a crush on an older actor. never feel like you have to stoop down to your own age group just because you're pressured to.

adhd folks mask too, i do it a lot, so i completely get it. to me it's like, crushing on timothy chardonay without any kind of connection, but just doing it because everyone else thinks the guy is cute or whatever.

we don't really form 'crushes' in my opinion, we just admire 1) talent 2) obviously whatever attractiveness they have and not all of them are conventionally pretty which is actually more of a bonus for a lot of us and 3) what they present to us about their life is something we connect to.

sometimes we just don't find that with actors or public figures our own age. i had THEE biggest crush on charlize theron when i was younger and it was before i realized that being gay was an option, but since then, i don't really have a crush on her, I just think she's pretty and very talented.

with the SPN cast it's an extra layer of "something" because those actors and cast and crew are rather forward with us and there's a level of communication that you can really only find in a show like this that's lasted for so long, has their own conventions, and interacts so much with fandom. Misha does this the most — but we also have to remember they only show us what they want and that there is always another life BTS 98% of which we don't know anything about haha.

And it sucks when, young or older, you get to really liking an actor to support them and then they turn out to be scumbags — i hate that it's the worst feeling in the world.

But so long as that for the most part, if you just know what you're doing, who cares if you have a crush on Tim the Twink [affectoinate] or Ganalf the Grey it really doesn't matter so long as it's someone you believe in, think is talented, want to support, etc etc. That always comes first. You don't want to blindly follow someone just because you connect more in age and you wanna get railed by them. That's a whole different thing IMO.

but like you said in your second message: crush on a celebrity if your judgement is telling you that that person is a good person

[alirhi]

How I'd have done TFATWS pt 1

Okay, I am such a whore for positive attention that, yes, it literally only takes one person expressing interest to get me to do something lol. So, for the lovely @goblin-tea, here is how The Falcon and the Winter Soldier would have gone for Bucky if I'd been a writer on the show!

Also, shoutout to @gunshou, who popped up showing support when I was in the middle of writing this lol 😘

Episode 1: New World Order

I actually love how most of this episode was handled; it's what drew me into the show in the first place, and gave me such hope for the rest of it. Most of the changes that I'd make here are pretty minor, tbh.

I'd specify the setting in some way for Bucky's nightmare. Obviously, since he was there and knows what happened, when, and where he was, it wouldn't be like the setting changes in movies where they slap a big, bold title card over the scene. Still, I'd probably open with a brief establishing shot showing the city skyline or something; some identifying feature so that viewers can work out where this happened without needing a direct statement from Marvel (note: if you need to directly address your audience to clarify something from within your story, you're a bad storyteller). What year did this take place? I show technology from the time; perhaps a dated cell phone in someone's hand. The point is to establish where and when The Winter Soldier killed RJ Nakajima, without detracting from the emotional impact of the scene. Why does it matter? Because we should know why. Why is Bucky dreaming about this particular incident? Was it his last mission before the events of CA:TWS (a theory I see frequently repeated but with no evidence to back it up)? Was it earlier on? Is RJ only on the forefront of Bucky's mind because of his (unhealthy, but we'll get to that) friendship with Yori? How long has Yori been suffering under the weight of his grief?

I would not have had him crash through the wall, btw. As cool as that shot looked, let's try to remember that The Winter Soldier was a ghost story for 70 years. Ghosts don't leave giant gaping holes in hotel walls. I'm not saying brazen wholesale destruction is out of character for him (obviously not. I've seen CA:TWS lmao. many times. this moment lives rent-free in my brain:

found on google without credit; pls lmk if it's yours so I can credit.

but you don't become a "ghost story" if you always leave that much evidence, ijs)

I'd leave the terrible therapy session alone. That scene was beautiful. Beautifully shot; I loved how claustrophobic it felt, and it really did a wonderful job of showing how Bucky felt on the spot, scrutinized, almost put on display for this bitch woman. This scene establishes Raynor as clearly wrong, and an unprofessional mess, and Bucky calls her out on it. I fucking love that!

lmao gods, I love his painfully awkward forced smile... Guys, this episode is fkn great. (betcha weren't expecting so much praise from me, were you? 😂)

"You're free." "To do what?"

👆👆👆 In my show? That would have more of an impact on Bucky's arc. That question would be one of the underlying issues moving his whole story along. Twice in this show, he's told that he's free, but no one addresses what he's free from, much less what he's free to do next.

It's a minor thing, but when Yori tells Bucky to ask Leah out? I'd have Bucky do more than just shake his head in silent horror. Not much more, just something that matters to me as someone who's worked in the service industry for many, many years and dealt with too many creepos: Bucky would flat-out say "she's at work! that's harassment, Yori!"

Yori can still stomp right past that boundary, and Leah can still smile and agree. I just really want someone to verbally acknowledge that you don't fucking ask someone out when they're at work. Ever. Bucky cringing and apologizing puts the power of the conversation back in Leah's hands; it gives her an out to politely decline if she's not interested, and just laugh off Yori's flirting on Bucky's behalf as a senile old man being silly, so I'm actually fine with how this scene turned out. I just would personally have gone that extra inch there for the idiots in the audience who don't get Bucky's subtle "wtf" reaction and why Yori's suggestion was so bad. If someone's livelihood depends on being nice to you, keep your goddamn distance. Flirting with them or asking them out when they're at that big of a disadvantage and have virtually no power to say "no" is harassment.

Here is where I'd make one more subtle change, too. When Yori sees the mochi and is reminded of his son, and tells Bucky about his death, I'd just slip in a time frame. "x years ago, my son was..." blah. (Guys, it really bothers me not knowing when that scene took place rofl can you tell?)

One complaint I've seen a lot online about this show is how it's a bit murky on just how well known Bucky is in-universe. He can walk around Brooklyn with more or less total anonymity, but he's also recognized as "an Avenger" (when he was never actually technically in the group)... but honestly? I think it's actually pretty realistic. Just because someone's famous doesn't mean every single person on the planet knows who they are and what they look like well enough to instantly recognize them on the street. People look different in photos than in person, and pre-Blip, Bucky had the complete Jesus look - long flowing hair and a full beard. In TFATWS he's a little scruffy, but not this:

Sebastian looks like about 10 different men from one moment to the next just irl with a change in haircut, lighting, expression, whether or not he got enough sleep the night before... 😂 I don't really find it hard to believe that people not expecting to bump into an Avenger would have trouble seeing Bucky post-haircut as anything other than just another attractive white guy.

Anyway! Sorry for the segue lol. On to the date!

Earlier in this very same goddamn episode, it is established that Bucky can remotely operate a car with a tablet. This is not a technologically-inept geezer. This is a 30-something nerd who loves new technology, who, yes, is facing a brave new world and a whole lot of new technology, but has never shown any issue picking it up. The crappy flip phone he handed Raynor earlier? a burner to keep her out of what little personal life he does have (we never see it again in the real show, anyway). The "tiger photos" line? Stays, not to show Bucky's floundering ineptitude with technology, but as a little nod to his bisexuality. (don't like it? don't wanna see Bucky as bi? go watch the show and read Skogland's borderline-offensive interviews. This isn't "how I would pander to a homophobic audience" it's "how I would have written it." the "Bucky is bi" interpretation is super fucking common and has been since TFA so bite me 😁)

Tiny nitpick, but I'd also have the Battleship boards actually set up properly lmao. What even was that? Anyway...

I don't think I'd have Leah get all ranty about Yori and RJ. That's not first date talk, for one thing. For another, let's ease up on the beating Bucky and the audience over the head with that one incident in a single episode, shall we? Instead, I'd have her stick with the date questions - she asked his age, asked about his family; I'd have her follow it with questions about what he does for a living (giving us a chance to not only actually have that question answered for us - how the hell does Bucky keep himself from being homeless? lol - but also set up...)

He shuts down a little when she starts asking about his past; she's innocently curious, just trying to get to know him, but he's flinchy and deflects with questions about her. The date is awkward, but doesn't abruptly end with him running away lol. He walks Leah home, like the old-fashioned gentleman he is, goes home, himself, and end on him grimacing in his sleep, in the clutches of another nightmare: not as much detail as the RJ murder scene, we see disjointed, disorienting images of fluorescent lights glinting off of machinery, the occasional shot of Bucky writhing in the chair, a shot of that damned notebook (to remind the dumber audience members why Raynor's passive-aggressive notebook thing was so triggering for him), and we hear echoes of a couple of the trigger words, and Bucky's screams.

[shih-coulda-had-it]

193 for... maybe nanahiko? Really just do whatever ship you feel like :D

193. "Are you crazy? The kid is upstairs!" | VestigesTorino [Yes. OT8. The orgies are fantastic, and Torino is Holder bait, 8th and 9th exempt.] | WC: 2,222 of an OFA!VampireCoven!AU except op has taken liberties with worldbuilding.

TW: Blood-drinking. Outrageous flirting. Mildly spicy!

//

“Vampires,” Sorahiko echoes blankly.

He looks from left to right, trying to spot the differences between himself and the six adult men and one adult woman sitting at this round table. Most atypical appearances can be attributed to the strange and wondrous natures of Quirks, so Sorahiko could excuse the fourteen red eyes (every iris the identical shade) as a matter of Quirk heritage. However, none of the Shigarakis resemble the other.

They still might be pulling his leg.

The leader of the household (presumably) leans his elbows on the table and steeples his fingers. “Torino-san,” he says in a gentle voice, “we greatly appreciate your timely rescue of our youngest. And believe me when I say I would have preferred you stay ignorant of my coven’s true nature.”

“But the boy wants to be a professional hero,” one of the men interrupts. His arms are crossed, and his hair sticks up in rakish angles. An X-shaped scar has been carved over the bridge of his nose, just missing the eyes.

He sounds dismissive of the kid’s dream.

Fair. When Sorahiko had stepped onto the moonlit scene, the kid was frantically scrabbling at a thick-skinned villain’s hand, trying to save his bag from being rummaged. The villain had planted a knee in the kid’s stomach in an attempt to menace him into silence.

Sorahiko pounced on the villain, called in the location to pick up the too-heavy bastard, and escorted the boy home. He fielded questions about heroics and U.A. High for half an hour before they finally reached the Shigaraki compound.

And now he is here, trapped in a gigantic dining room, being told about vampires.

“We agreed to let him try,” says the singular woman sharply.

“If you three hadn’t filled his head about saving the world,” a man with a spiky ponytail shoots back, “then we wouldn’t have this problem. And you too, Yoichi.”

“Nevertheless,” the leader says. His red eyes gleam in the low light, and Sorahiko feels his skin prickling at the attention.

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“Ah, who hasn’t heard of the toughest teacher of U.A.?” another man asks, sly and teasing. His voice is soft like the leader’s, but perceptibly younger. His coloring is similar to the woman’s, but he’s lean where she’s muscular. “Yoichi believes we should give you a head’s up. Toshinori is a good child, but even he will slip from time to time, and that will draw undue attention to himself.”

Sorahiko considers these seven faces. Slowly, he says, “You think he’ll be accepted into U.A.”

“Three of us are active pro-heroes, and we’ve been training him when we can,” the woman informs him. “I’d say he’s got a headstart compared to all of your first years.”

“My students have always been terrible. That’s what schooling is for.”

She flashes a smile at him, toothy and amused; his throat works through a sudden dry spell. Belatedly, Sorahiko realizes that every adult in this kitchen is eyeing him with intense interest. Even the ones that haven’t spoken yet.

Yoichi speaks again. “He’s smart, and he’ll be strong. U.A. will accept him. I ask you for your discretion and help, Gran Torino.”

He could refuse, but Sorahiko assumes they’ll simply kill him. Being blackmailed is a low possibility; Sorahiko doesn’t have much to be blackmailed about. And pro-heroes disappear all the time. No one really knows why. Principal Shi might demand an investigation on Gran Torino’s behalf (and possibly at the behest of Recovery Girl, who grudgingly acknowledges Torino’s efforts to raise the survival rate of U.A.’s graduates), but otherwise…

Still. Vampires. Another subset of humanity, among the Quirked and Quirkless. It’s weird enough to be true.

“Is this a verbal agreement?” Sorahiko asks.

A bark of laughter from the square-jawed man in the leather jacket, who leans forward and grins like a shark at Sorahiko. The light glints off the yellow lenses of his goggles, and the play of light and shadow highlights the muscle definition of the man’s shirtless chest. In a rich, low voice, he says, “We’ve got something better. A contract.”

“Using what?” Sorahiko bites back. “Paper and ink?”

“Skin and teeth, teach’.”

“Daigoro’s correct,” says Yoichi mildly, snatching Sorahiko’s attention away. “Torino-san, allow me to introduce my coven. I am Shigaraki Yoichi, second of my line. In the order of which my coven grew: Kenzo, Sanjuro, Hikage, Daigoro, En, Nana, and you’ve met our Toshinori.” As he speaks, he points to each person in turn.

He wonders when the kid got folded into this group. The kid’s affection for his home had been sincere, and he greeted the adults (well, Hikage had only come out of the forested grounds at Daigoro’s call) with merry cheer.

Is Toshinori even a vampire? U.A. conducts its business in the daytime.

Sorahiko nods in acknowledgement and doesn’t offer his full name in return. Instead, he says, “If I accept this contract, will you tell me whatever I want to know? About anything I ask?”

“Even vampires aren’t omniscient,” Yoichi answers.

Rolling his eyes, Sorahiko clarifies, “If the kid’s going to develop vampirism over the course of high school, then I need to know things. Like whether or not he’ll go feral over spilled blood. Or if sunlight’s going to be an issue.”

Yoichi’s smile is kind, and surprisingly not patronizing. “What we can tell, we will. The contract will have a mutual hold on us all.”

“What could break it?”

“A different coven, not that you should seek one out,” says Nana. “Trust us, we’re as nice as you get in the supernatural world.”

Sorahiko does not have many options. He hates the idea of agreeing to this without a safety net or a contingency plan. How can this woman ask him to trust them immediately? He’d have to be a gullible idiot, or a fool in lust, or...

He exhales. Sighing in resignation, Sorahiko tips his head to Yoichi and says, wry, “I accept the contract. Don’t kill me if your kid comes crying home about how mean I am.”

Yoichi shrugs, casual as anything. “Toshinori’s quite brave for his age, and stubborn, too. You’ll have your hands full training him.” He then stands from his chair; in measured, unhesitating steps, Yoichi approaches where Sorahiko sits at the opposite side of the round table. What he orders, Sorahiko complies with. “Take your cape off, Torino-san. Your gloves as well.”

“You may have to unzip the top half of your suit,” advises Hikage. “You won’t want the signatures to overlap.”

“Signatures,” Sorahiko repeats, pausing.

One glove’s already off. The flight suit’s sleeves extend up to his wrists, and they don’t have a lot of give. Similarly, the collar is skin-tight and provides ample coverage.

Daigoro playfully snaps his teeth at Sorahiko, once, twice. He says, “Paper and ink, skin and teeth. You forget already?”

The man barely flinches at the snarl directed his way. Seven pairs of eyes are honing in on the exposed flesh; Sorahiko shoves his self-conscious thoughts away. He focuses on the sheer outrage of being asked to strip by strangers, hissing, “Are you crazy? The kid is upstairs!”

“I’ll make sure he stays in his room,” Nana volunteers. She winks at Sorahiko. “We’ll be quick, Torino-san. You just have to keep quiet.”

“You—!”

She slips from her chair and darts off, exiting the dining room and ascending the stairs, floating off the floor. Sorahiko glares after her but snaps to attention as Yoichi stops by his chair, hip resting against the table, red eyes expectant.

Grudgingly, Sorahiko works off the second glove. As he does, Yoichi continues to lecture.

“The signatures can be made in two ways. A lighter bite will result in less pain, but will fade sooner. And I’d like for this arrangement to stand for several years, Torino-san. A lighter bite necessitates more renewals. Possibly, seven bites every two weeks.”

“And a stronger bite?”

“Seven every month.”

He scowls at the thought. The only silver lining he can see is that his suit will cover the marks, which will save him from his colleagues’ gossiping tongues. “Monthly, then. Are you drinking my blood? I don’t think I’ve got enough to cover seven appetites.”

Yoichi offers him a gentle smile. “A mouthful will suffice.”

Sorahiko works his jaw, and then he reaches backwards for the hidden zipper. It’s incongruously loud in the dining room; Sorahiko feels his face burning as he hurriedly rips his arms free of the sausage casing sleeves, letting the slackening front of the suit crumple to his lap. He hears an appreciative whistle.

“Daigoro, he can give you a run for your money,” Sanjuro jokes.

“He’s softer,” Daigoro deems, and Sorahiko bristles. “Must be the suit, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he snaps. “And proper hydration, asshole.”

“I’m not complaining!”

“At ease,” says Yoichi, calm, and that’s when Nana makes her reappearance. She swings back into the dining room, expression confident and content, until she spies Sorahiko’s half-naked appearance.

“Are we going in order?” she questions Yoichi, even as her eyes are trained on Sorahiko’s.

“That’s how it works, Nana,” Kenzo answers for their leader. “How’s Toshinori?”

“Watching his martial arts dramas. We’re good for like, fifty minutes.”

“You said you��ll be quick,” Sorahiko rasps, and his hands are clenching into fists, anticipatory and anxious. This is all so incredibly weird. “You all need more than five minutes to bite me?”

Yoichi laughs. It’s a bright sound, attractive and human and not at all like something that should be coming out of a self-proclaimed bloodsucker. When Yoichi moves, pushing off the table, Sorahiko nervelessly allows himself to be pinned to the back of his chair. One hand cards through his hair and lightly tugs; the other hand settles at his shoulder and presses it down.

His throat is exposed. Though Yoichi bends close, Sorahiko knows it isn’t the jugular he’s aiming for.

“Torino-san will need a moment to recuperate,” Yoichi whispers, and Sorahiko shivers, swallows past the apprehension, and spends half a second regretting his decision to let this happen. Yoichi adds, “We will not harm you, and you will not harm us. Your help, in exchange for ours. Let it be so.”

Teeth sink into the join of Sorahiko’s neck and shoulder, sharp and surprisingly hot. Sorahiko chokes out a garbled sound and jerks in his seat, until Yoichi’s bite goes deeper, deeper, and then Sorahiko gasps. Adrenaline bursts to life in his system; his Quirk sputters a reflexive Jet through his boots, but Yoichi’s slender frame hides an unseen strength.

He holds Sorahiko down.

He draws blood from the wound. Sorahiko barely feels the drain, fixated he is on the pressure exerted against him. Every single one of them is going to have the capacity to do this. If Yoichi, whose frame is most similar to En’s, can keep Sorahiko from bolting—Sorahiko arches his back, an involuntary moan escaping him.

It feels good. It feels really, really good.

Yoichi hums against his skin, pleased as punch, and his teeth retract. Sorahiko feels the tongue lap over the mark, heavy with spit. As Yoichi rears back, Yoichi rolls his neck lazily, licking his lips like a cat full from its meal.

“The saliva is a coagulant,” he explains idly, watching Sorahiko slump back against the chair, lungs still stuttering. A faint sweat has broken across his forehead, and Sorahiko distantly suspects that he’s going to need all the time he can get before the kid grows bored of his dramas.

“Oh, he already looks wrecked,” En observes. His awed tone elicits a laugh and encouraging clap to his shoulder from Daigoro, the latter of which requires En to brace against.

“You think he’ll last seven bites?”

“To be fair,” Hikage says, “that is a common erogenous zone. We’ll focus on less stimulating areas.”

Sorahiko, somewhat nettled at the implication that he won’t last (and what the hell does that mean? That he’ll back out? Start begging for mercy?) all seven signatures, musters his strength and shoves himself upright. He scoffs exaggeratedly, masking a shaky exhale with it. He challenges the coven, “Do your fucking worst.”

Yoichi blinks. Behind him, Kenzo is leaving his seat and stalking towards Sorahiko’s, red eyes gleaming. Before Kenzo can dive at Sorahiko and probably tear an artery out, Yoichi holds him back with one placating hand.

“Do not,” Yoichi warns. “We’re not trying to induce a thrall, do you all hear me?”

“Yoichi,” says Sanjuro, “if the man gets off, he gets off.”

A sigh leaves Yoichi. “Be that as it may. Please try not to leave him resentful for the months ahead.” He pats Kenzo’s collarbone; Kenzo catches the thin-boned hand and raises it to his lips.

“Understood, Yoichi,” Kenzo murmurs into the knuckles. He lets go, and Yoichi moves aside, now more fond than exasperated. A safety net, maybe.

In any case, Sorahiko gazes up at number two, who studies him back.

“The shoulder?” suggests Sorahiko, half-heartedly offering the right one up to sacrifice.

Kenzo inclines his head. “Just above the bicep will work,” and he goes on to prove his point, keeping Sorahiko locked in position, unable to do anything but wriggle and fail to contain strangled moans.

This is going to be a long hour.

[diversetolkien]

I really don't like Padme. I know they wrote her, a woman twice Anakin's age, falling in love with him because it was a man doing everything and child predation from women isn't taken as seriously but it still makes me hate her guts. And it sucks because her character itself is FINE. More than fine. She might've been a favorite character if they'd just let her meet Anakin when they were both ADULTS. But I wondered if they did it to make their relationship even more unhealthy and toxic. Wdyt?

This is the Padme anon and I just wanna say before you misunderstand,,,teenagers molest children the same as adults do and I myself have had that experience. So the fact that she's 'also a child' when they meet means less than nothing because it's possible for that kind of power imbalance to happen, even between children. And it is especially egregious here because Anakin obviously worships the ground she walks on and looks up to her and I just really wish they'd met when they were adults. 

This is the padme anon and just to be clear, I am not ranting at you or anything, I just am. Very tired of seeing everyone going 'boohoo poor padme' which is totally valid but also not addressing the ickiness on the other side of their relationship.

Hello anon! So there’s two primary reasons I don’t ship Anakin and Padme: 1) Anakin is abusive af, B) The age gap, and Padme’s role in it. I’ve already talked about Anakin and him being abusive here, so now i’ll talk a bit about Padme, woman on man abuse, and why their relationship is so problematic. 

Before I continue, Padme is NOT at fault for Anakin’s attraction towards her, nor is she deserving of what happens to her. 

In short, Padme and Anakin never should have been a thing. Ever. It is downright creepy. The moment Anakin approached her, an adult, with romantic and sexual advances, then she should have set up proper boundaries, and reported his behaviour to Obi-Wan.

As an adult, it was absolutely Padme’s responsibility to distance herself from Anakin when he approached her. There is absolutely no seeing past this. Their relationship started when he was literally six, and she was fourteen. An advancement of a relationship from that age just screams grooming.

And maybe she didn’t, canon doesn’t tell us she did—but that doesn’t change the fact that this is what it looks like.

When Anakin and Padme first meet, you don’t think that this woman twice his age would willingly enter a sexual relationship with him when he’s a teenager, because off the bat Padme gives us the air of maturity and responsibility, which only grows when she becomes Senator. 

Padme and Anakin’s relationship was very sibling coded to begin with, at least coming from Padme. Which, considering she is the older child in the situation, made a lot of sense. Anakin’s relationship and love for Padme also stems directly from the fact that he’s a slave and has never encountered anyone like Padme due to his circumstances. There’s a power imbalance and an unhealthy emotional dependency right there—now was Padme aware of the last bit, I doubt it. But the first bit, absolutely.

Considering that, her relationship with Anakin is just plain irresponsible. In fact, much of how she handles him is irresponsible.

And folks may be like, “19 is the age of consent,” or “he’s basically an adult” No—he’s not. The brain and experiences of a 19 year old vs. a 24 year old are considerably different, even with life experiences taken into account. And taking into consideration Anakin’s risk factors (growing up as a slave, trauma of leaving his mothers, etc.,), his relationship with Padme becomes even more concerning, and does not make him more of an adult.

Anakin was traumatized, badly. Anakin did not need to be in a relationship, not because he was a Jedi, but because relationships are such a huge part of his trauma and have been highly problematic. Padme knew this, she knew what Anakin experienced, she knew how damaged his life on Tatooine had made him. She should not have been in a relationship with someone like him, not until he was an adult and not until she could work with him to recover and heal.

I’m not saying people with mental illnesses can’t be in relationships at all, even I have trauma from a shit ton of crap I experienced in my childhood. What I’m saying is that being in a relationship with an untreated mental illness, when attachments and relationships are a trigger of a sort is not healthy and not good, and the responsible party should opt out of said relationship.

Anakin wasn’t mentally ready. Padme knew this. Padme also knew of his infatuation with her. Again, his attraction to her isn’t on Padme. But her knowing that his attraction to her came from his childhood as a slave, and understanding that he liked her mainly because he hadn’t seen anything like her, and entering a relationship with him rather than encouraging him to explore is problematic. It goes back to the power imbalance.

But like, I shouldn’t have to explain Anakin’s mental state to justify why a 24 year old entering a relationship with a 19 year old is problematic. Padme was wrong. Even if Anakin was a perfectly normal kid, it was wrong. She knew him when he was a child, and watched him grow. When he expressed romantic feelings towards her, she should have shut it down.

She should have—it’s completely irresponsible and disgusting of her not to.

And you’re absolutely right, teenagers can and do molest children. There are well documented case of this. It’s not unheard of, sadly, and as a MSW student I’m all too aware of abuse in the household between younger and older siblings. The things I’ve heard are god awful, but you’re right, it’s a thing. Padme was a fully functioning teenager who knows right from wrong, and who had seemingly put boundaries between she and Anakin given the age gap to begin with.

This should have continued throughout the trilogy. I mean she is aware of the age gap.  

And now to your point about women abusing men or boys—yeah, you’re right. Unfortunately there’s a huge double standard about abuse and molestation, and with women as perpetrators, people tend to overlook it and there’s a lot of shame in boys and men in brining it forward. I think this is why so many people actually let Padme off of the hook. But if Anakin was in Padme’s shoes, oh boy would there be riots and rightfully so.

All in all, Padme and Anakin’s relationship is disturbing. Padme takes advantage of Anakin, when in reality she should have set boundaries and spoken to Obi-Wan. She manipulated the relationship she had knowing Anakin was a child with a traumatized background that idolized her.

In a way I’m shocked because it’s so out of character for Padme, but it’s what’s canon.

[everlarkbirthdaygifts]

Happy Birthday, d1163!

Happy belated Birthday, @d1163​! We hope you had a wonderful day back on the 3rd, and got exactly the presents you were hoping for! To bring your party back around, the lovely @endlessnightlock​ has written a story just for you!

“I shouldn’t be very long,” I tell Madge, standing in front of my apartment doorway as I fidget with the purse strap hanging over my shoulder. I have a parent-teacher conference tonight at Prim’s school, and since I can’t take her with me, Madge will stay here while I’m gone. “Just make sure to lock the door when I leave- I’ll call you when I get back so you can unlock it for me.” I really should get a key made for her; she’s here so much.

Madge shrugs, tipping her smooth blond head to the side, leaning her shoulder against the doorway of the apartment I share with my sister. 

I appreciate my best friend’s help- I’ve had to rely on her to help me with Prim quite a bit lately; bless her, she never complains.

“It doesn’t matter when you get back. Primmy and I have a full schedule for the night, don’t we?” she says as my sister appears in the doorway behind her with her twin blond braids hanging down her back. I swear the two of them look more alike than Prim and I ever will, but we are only half-sisters; Prim’s the product of my Mom’s second marriage. 

“We’re going to give each other pedicures,” Madge continues. “In fact, why don’t you go out and do something by yourself while you’re gone? Go window shopping- or maybe you’ll meet a cute single dad you can ask out for drinks.”

I frown at her. My best friend has been encouraging me to “get back into the dating game” for a while now, no matter how often I reiterate I’m not interested. My plate is more than full since we lost Mom and her husband a few years ago, leaving me as Prim’s sole guardian. 

Besides, my sister is only eight- she needs all of my attention right now, no matter how often she tries to tell me otherwise. 

Prim is just as bad as Madge the way she’s always saying I should find a guy. I know she’s hatched some sort of scheme to set me up with her new friend Kaylee’s dad. I’ve never met him but seeing as I’m twenty-two and the girls are eight; I imagine he’s way too old for me, even if I were interested in dating- which I am not.

“Yep,” Prim agrees, grinning up at Madge, “we’ll be just fine. So go, you know, get you some or something.”

“Get you some or something?” I repeat, frowning at first Prim and then Madge, who is the most obvious culprit in the guessing game of Who’s Teaching Prim Adult Expressions. “You shouldn’t say things if you don’t know what they mean, Prim.”

“I know what that means,” Prim rolls her eyes at me while I sputter in disbelief. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Don’t look at me!” Madge says when I glare at her, “I didn’t teach her anything. She’s just grown-up for her age, more than you were, Katniss. Now go-”

“And get me some?” I interrupt, eyes narrowed because I don’t trust Madge in this matter any further than I can throw her. 

“No, you’d better go, or you’re going to be late for your parent-teacher conference, silly,” Madge says.

She’s still laughing when she shuts the door in my face. 

There was no need for me to hurry because Ms. Trinket, Prim’s teacher, is still in a conference with another parent when I arrive at the school. I quickly realize she must be running even further behind that just with me because a man is waiting in the hallway as well. 

“Hi,” he says, smiling warmly at me from his place against the cinder-block wall. I don’t recognize him, but he has to be one of the parents I haven’t met yet.

“Hey,” I reply, studying him briefly, then looking away before it becomes apparent I’m doing it. The man is good-looking, one of those muscular, compact-looking guys who aren’t super-tall but aren’t short either. He’s got wavy blond hair and blue eyes, and if I were to wager a guess at how old he is, I’d probably say early to mid-thirties. 

“Who are you here for?” he asks conversationally, sticking his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t met a lot of the other parents yet.”

I shrug. I don’t usually make small-talk with men I don’t know, but he seems non-threatening. 

Still, I hold back a bit- he’s attractive in a way that seems inappropriate for some reason. I guess I worry that he’s married or something; I don’t want to be that person who’s flirting with someone’s husband or partner. 

Not that I’m flirting- I’m barely even talking to the guy, yeesh- way to overthink things, Katniss. “My sister is Prim Everdeen,” I explain, “I’m her guardian.”

“So you’re Katniss,” he says, eyes rounding in surprise- they’re kind of ridiculously blue and on the largeish side, so it’s a comical sight.

“That’s me.”

“I’m Kaylee’s dad- Peeta. Peeta Mellark.” He sticks out his hand for me to shake.

“Oh,” I answer. And then, like a nincompoop who’s caught off guard by this new information, and the fact that he’s trying to shake my hand, I go on- “you’re the one Prim is trying to set me up with.”

But instead of getting flustered (the way I am for saying something so dumb to an attractive, single man I just met and will probably see again after today), Peeta laughs, although he does drop his hand to his side. “So I wasn’t just imagining Kaylee talking up Prim’s sister then, huh?”

“Guess not. What, ah, what did your daughter say about me?”

Peeta smiles at me. “Just that you were young and pretty, and you’re a good sister to Prim.”

I feel myself blushing underneath his gaze. I wonder if he agrees with his daughter’s assessment of me.  “I don’t know why they think they need to meddle in our lives, right?” I ask, trying to cover my embarrassment by keeping the conversation going.

“Because they love us, for some reason. I guess,” Peeta says. 

I have to smile at that. 

Behind us, the classroom door opens. Lavinia, one of the parents I know slightly, walks out of the room. I notice her studying Peeta for a moment, but when I say hello, she turns her attention to me as she leaves. 

Ms. Trinket appears in the doorway a moment later. “Sorry about the hold-up, Katniss. I’m ready for you now. Mr. Mellark,” she says, seemingly surprised to see him waiting in the hall as well, “what are you doing here now?”

Peeta looks confused. “My conference was scheduled for five, or at least I thought so. That’s what the paper Kaylee brought home said.”

“No, mine’s at five,” I say, “unless there was some kind of mistake.”

Ms. Trinket frowns at us both. “I’m not sure where the mix-up happened, but I don’t have you scheduled for today, Peeta. However, if you have time to wait, I can squeeze you in once I’m done with Katniss.”

He quickly agrees. “I’m already here, so if you don’t mind, I’ll just wait.”

“Sounds good. Are you ready, Katniss?” 

I follow Ms. Trinket into the room as Peeta pulls his cell out of his back pocket. 

I walk out of the classroom about twenty minutes later, following a brief meeting. 

Thankfully, Ms. Trinket didn’t have any significant concerns about Prim this year. I knew my sister’s grades were pretty good, so I wasn’t concerned with that, but Ms. Trinket also backed-up my opinion that Prim’s been getting along well with most of the class. Despite everything she’s been through with losing our mom, it’s a relief to be reassured by someone else that my sister is doing okay. I worry all the time about whether or not I’m doing a good enough job with her- a little outside validation is more than welcome.

Peeta smiles at me when I glance his way. He’s still leaning against the cinderblock wall in the same position I left him in. 

Ms. Trinket asked me to let him know she was ready for him, so we have the hall to ourselves. 

“Get to the bottom of things?” I ask, slowing down to talk to him. 

I’d be lying if I said Peeta hadn’t crossed my mind once or twice while I was talking to Ms. Trinkett. He might be quite a bit older than me, but there’s something about him that draws me to him. He’s handsome, but the attraction isn’t just about his looks. I don’t know- maybe the way Prim has talked about “Kaylee’s dad” is influencing my decision, but there is just an innate kindness about him that piques my interest.

“Yeah,” he says, straightening up and running a hand through his hair. He sighs. “Kaylee confessed- she planned it with Prim. Look, I’m sorry. You’re a beautiful young woman, and I know I’m way too old for you-”

“No, you’re not,” I interrupt, surprising both him and myself. I’m not always good at speaking up, but it’s usually a doozy when I do. Peeta doesn’t say anything to refute me, though. 

It’s true; I don’t’ think he’s too old to pass up giving a shot. Peeta’s the first guy who’s interested me in a ridiculously long time, even if he’s at least ten years older than I am. I mean, most guys my age are pretty immature; they all seem to be looking out for themselves. That’s just not something I can get into at this point in my life- I can’t deal with immature boy drama and Prim. Peeta seems like he would be pretty drama-free, and he’s certainly not a boy.

His grin widens. “I’m not?”

I shake my head. “No, you’re not. Do I seem too young for you?”

“No,” Peeta admits quietly, “you don’t.”

I decide just to spit it out- a guy who’s worth anything has to like assertive women, and I’m not into playing games. “Do you want to go get coffee or something after your conference?”

He nods. “I’d love to.”

I know all of this is forward, but what harm can it do to get to know Peeta a little better? I’m not committing to anything, and If nothing else, I’ll make a friend, and Prim and his daughter can rest easy knowing we gave their plan a chance. Plus, I have a feeling our schedules were both cleared on purpose. 

I can’t help but think of Madge telling me I should go out and have a drink with a cute single dad. “She was in on it the whole time,” I say, laughing under my breath.

“What’s that?” Peeta asks.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Do you want to meet me at The Bean Counter in half an hour?” I ask, naming the coffee shop a few blocks away from the elementary school.

“Sounds good,” he agrees. 

After a little awkward wave at each other, we part ways. Peeta goes into the classroom for his conference with Ms. Trinket, and I head out to my car. 

I can’t decide if I should call Madge to bawl her out for this or ask for advice on what to do. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date, even if it is just for coffee. 

Ultimately, I do neither. Madge and Prim told me not to worry about coming right back, so I don’t even call them to let them know I’ll be home late. I figure they can just sit and wonder what I’ve gotten into tonight.

[edenmemes]

game of thrones (s2) starters

❝ two cups of wine? that’s not much at all. please, have another cup. ❞ ❝ you don't need to live your whole life taking commands from old men. ❞ ❝ what did you say? did you say i can’t? ❞ ❝ i will not fail you. ❞ ❝ i don't go serving some shit king who's only king because his father was. ❞ ❝ do you want to stop me? stop me. ❞ ❝ you must be their strength. ❞ ❝ i’ve been fighting far longer than you. ❞ ❝ ‘ how can a man be brave if he's afraid?’ ...that is the only time a man can be brave. ❞ ❝ you are the biggest liar i have ever met. ❞ ❝ we looked for you on the battlefield. you were nowhere to be found. ❞ ❝ i’ve been here, ruling the kingdoms. ❞ ❝ i could show you the streams to fish, the woods to hunt. ❞ ❝ we heard you were dead. ❞ ❝ power resides where men believe it resides. it's a trick, a shadow on the wall. ❞ ❝ you don’t even have the decency to deny it. ❞ ❝ we share a common enemy. ❞ ❝ brave? a dog doesn’t need courage to chase off rats. ❞ ❝ aren’t you always so clever with your schemes and your plots? ❞ ❝ someone once told me that the night is dark and full of terrors. ❞ ❝ the king does not ask; he commands. ❞ ❝ loyal service means telling hard truths. ❞ ❝ i don’t like you. i don’t like your face. i don’t like the words oozing out of your mouth. ❞ ❝ if half an onion is black with rot, it's a rotten onion. a man is good or he is evil. ❞ ❝ a man without friends is a man without power. ❞ ❝ that’s twice i’ve warned you. ❞ ❝ no one can survive in this world without help. no one. / let me help you. ❞ ❝ i’ve never heard you hide from the truth. ❞ ❝ calling yourself king doesn’t make you one. ❞ ❝ you can’t avenge if you’re dead. ❞ ❝ these bad people are what i'm good at. out-talking them, out-thinking them. it's what i am. ❞ ❝ are you trying to frighten me with magic tricks? ❞ ❝ the histories won’t mention you but i will not forget. ❞ ❝ sometimes i wonder. if this is the price for what we've done, for our sins. ❞ ❝ it's hard to put a leash on a dog once you've put a crown on its head. ❞ ❝ wise men do not make demands of kings. ❞ ❝ it's like stepping into a dream you've been dreaming for as long as you can remember, and finding out that the dream is more real than your life. ❞ ❝ i'll remember it all until i die. rhat was the best day of my life. ❞ ❝ the more people you love, the weaker you are. ❞ ❝ it’s better to be cruel than weak. ❞ ❝ do it. all these bad people, they can’t stop you. forget about them. come with me. ❞ ❝ you're not the person you’re pretending to be. not yet. ❞ ❝ my place is by your side. ❞ ❝ would it be excessive of me to ask you to save my life twice in a week? ❞ ❝ i’ve gone too far to pretend to be anything else. ❞ ❝ you promise me these things, but you don’t know. none of us know. ❞ ❝ show me how you fight. ❞ ❝ leaving that battlefield was like being dragged off to prison. ❞ ❝ you’ll say nothing to anyone. do you understand? ❞ ❝ you can’t talk about it without blushing. ❞ ❝ i don’t need trust any longer. i don’t want it and i don’t have room for it. ❞ ❝ cleaner ways don’t win wars. ❞ ❝ i always hated crossbows. take too long to load ❞ ❝ i’m not questining your loyalty. i’m denying it’s existence. ❞ ❝ you don’t have to call me ‘your grace’ when no one’s around. ❞ ❝ you need to be careful. no one can know you’re here. ❞ ❝ this city stinks like dead bodies. ❞ ❝ where i come from, guests are treated with respect, not insulted at the gates. ❞ ❝ i’ll be silent as the grave. ❞ ❝ i understand you don’t like me, and while that saddens me greatly, i did not come here today seeking your affection. ❞ ❝ you know my family name. you have me at a disadvantage. ❞ ❝ a very small man can cast a very large shadow. ❞ ❝ what is dead may never die, but rises again harder and stronger. ❞ ❝ some say the beauty most desired is the beauty concealed. ❞ ❝ that’s exactly what they are - stories. ❞ ❝ keep out of sight. if things go wrong - you run. ❞ ❝ you want to rule? this is what ruling is. lying on a bed of weeds, ripping them out by the root one by one before they strangle you in your sleep. ❞ ❝ you might find it difficult to rule over millions who want you dead. ❞ ❝ you don’t know what i’m like. ❞ ❝ i’m not like most men. ❞ ❝ look around you. we're all liars here. and every one of us is better than you. ❞ ❝ i will love you from this day until my last day. ❞ ❝ i have heard tales of your beauty and grace, but the tales do not do you justice. ❞ ❝ you have a tender heart, just like your mother did your age. ❞ ❝ that’s a fine little blade. maybe i’ll pick my teeth with it. ❞ ❝ how do you sleep when you...have those things in your head? ❞ ❝ they’ll be singing songs about you as long as men have voices to sing. ❞ ❝ you should give me the reins. i’ve been on horseback for the past nine years. ❞ ❝ how unspeakable of me to go on and on, when all you want to do is rest. ❞ ❝ what you just did is punishable by death. ❞ ❝ tales of your courage and wisdom have never been far from my ears. ❞ ❝ you shouldn’t insult people that are bigger than you. ❞ ❝ the streets aren’t safe at night. ❞ ❝ i have come to love you from afar. ❞ ❝ would you like something for the pain? ❞ ❝ and who are you that i must bow so low? ❞ ❝ a lion still has claws and mine are long and sharp. ❞ ❝ i will keep you safe, my love. i promise you. ❞ ❝ asking me questions is bad luck. you’ll probably be dead soon. ❞ ❝ have you grown fond of me? is that it? ❞ ❝ knowledge is power. ❞ ❝ sometimes those with the most power have the least grace. ❞ ❝ how do you kill a dead man? ❞ ❝ i saw it in his eyes. hated me. he never met me before, but he wanted to hurt me. ❞ ❝ not very noble to accuse a lady of dishonesty. ❞ ❝ there’s nothing more sickening than a man in love. ❞ ❝ threaten me again and i will have you thrown into the sea. ❞ ❝ i am very good for keeping secrets for my good friends. ❞ ❝ i promised to protect them. promised them their enemies would die screaming. ❞ ❝ you’ve been having those dreams again. ❞ ❝ would you please shut up? you think you’re better than me. ❞ ❝ don’t trust anybody. life is safer that way. ❞ ❝ boil this for an hour and drink the tea. makes all your pain go away. ❞ ❝ it must be odd for you to be the disappointing child. ❞ ❝ you love your children. it’s your one redeeming quality / that and your cheekbones. ❞ ❝ nothing is worth what this will cost you. ❞ ❝ i thought they were going to kill me. ❞ ❝ i heard you suffered a terrible head wound. ❞ ❝ i know that our enemies hate each other almost as much as they hate us. ❞ ❝ do you understand we’re losing the war? ❞ ❝ wish i could stay and celebrate, but there is work to be done. ❞ ❝ i’m sorry for your loss. ❞ ❝ it’s just words to give us a little warmth at night. make us feel like we’ve got a purpose. ❞ ❝ death is boring, especially now with so much excitement in the world. ❞ ❝ i’m glad you’re not dead. ❞ ❝ more ravishing than ever. war agrees with you. ❞ ❝ i never thought i’d have reason to doubt your loyalty. was i wrong? ❞ ❝ only death may pay for life. ❞ ❝ smart people don’t find themselves in places like this. ❞ ❝ i will shield your back and give my life for yours, if it comes to that. ❞ ❝ do not speak to me like i’m a child. ❞ ❝ i want you to know what it's like to love someone, to truly love someone. before i take them from you. ❞ ❝ you may cover it up and deny it, but you have a gentle heart. ❞ ❝ there are times when i look at you and can’t believe you’re real. ❞ ❝ betray me, and you will wish you hadn’t. ❞ ❝ he who passes the sentence should swing the sword. ❞ ❝ gods help you. now you are truly lost. ❞ ❝ look around. you start thinking you know this place, it will kill you. ❞ ❝ i want you to curse and fight until your heart’s done pumping. ❞ ❝ they’ll never know what you’ve done. they’ll never know how you died. they won’t even know your damn name. ❞ ❝ you are a man without honor. ❞ ❝ does it give you joy to scare people? ❞ ❝ there’s been talk of other forces at work. dark forces. ❞ ❝ strike hard and true, or i’ll come back to haunt you. ❞ ❝ one day i pray you love someone. i pray you love them so much, when you close your eyes, you see their face. i want that for you. ❞ ❝ you are far too smart to think i will succumb to flattery. ❞ ❝ i had terrible dreams last night. i could not sleep until the sun was shining and the birds were singing. ❞ ❝ all my life i’ve been knocking men like you into the dust. ❞ ❝ you will not provoke me to anger. ❞ ❝ there are people who want to hurt me. ❞ ❝ i’m no ordinary woman. my dreams come true. ❞ ❝ i will take what is mine. with fire and blood, i will take it. ❞ ❝ you’re a sharp little thing, aren’t you? ❞ ❝ i always thought i was a brilliant liar. ❞ ❝ i’m yours and you are mine. ❞ ❝ you defend these men who insult you behind your back. ❞ ❝ we’ll stay warmer if we stay close. ❞ ❝ i would kill for you. do you know that? you’re mine. ❞ ❝ do you hear them out there? they want your head. ❞ ❝ you’re brave. stupid, but brave. ❞ ❝ don’t be afraid. i can take care of myself. ❞ ❝ a day will come when you think you're safe and happy, and your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth. ❞ ❝ why do you hate me so much? have i ever harmed you? ❞ ❝ this will be my last war. win or lose. ❞ ❝ you're too smart for your own good. has anyone told you that? ❞ ❝ you have forsaken every vow you ever took. ❞ ❝ eny isn’t attractive. ❞ ❝ treat your oaths recklessly, and your people will do the same. ❞ ❝ they will all come to you, little lion, to rest a crown upon your head. ❞ ❝ the world is built by killers. so you'd better get used to looking at them. ❞ ❝ the gods have no mercy. that's why they're gods. ❞ ❝ your crimes are past forgiveness. ❞ ❝ i don’t want to leave you. ❞ ❝ if this is a dream, i will kill the man who tries to wake me. ❞ ❝ you talk about war as if you understand it. ❞ ❝ i don’t want your grief. i want my vengeance. ❞ ❝ what? what? why are you staring at me? ❞ ❝ you are the moon of my life. that is all i know and all i need to know. ❞ ❝ i’d say you possess above-average intelligence. ❞ ❝ i’ve been waiting all night. what is wrong? ❞ ❝ oh, are we friends now? ❞ ❝ never swung a sword before, have you? you look like a baby with a rattle. ❞ ❝ maybe i am dead and i just don’t know it yet. ❞ ❝ i’ve seen your face almost every day. and for that, i consider myself very, very lucky. ❞ ❝ the only way to keep the small folk loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy. ❞ ❝ i will pray for your safe return. ❞ ❝ this is the safest place we can be. ❞ ❝ the worst ones always live. ❞ ❝ i’ve never much liked my head, but i don’t want to see it removed just yet. ❞ ❝ your childhood must have been awful. ❞ ❝ who do you fight for? ❞ ❝ now you’re arguing just to argue. ❞ ❝ i hope you gave them quick deaths. ❞ ❝ you want me? here i am. ❞ ❝ the thing about you i find so interesting is absolutely nothing. ❞

[cestlestial-beings]

The Hunter

Summary: A mysterious "hunter," John, saves her from a ghost. She's in college; he's twice her age. But she really, really wants him, and with any luck, something will happen.

Fandom: Supernatural Characters: John Winchester, Unnamed Original Female Character Pairing: John Winchester/OFC Word Count: 2,800 Rating: Explicit AO3: Link

I’m sitting on my living room couch, anxiously biting my fingernails and hoping the salt circle around me does its job, when there’s a knock on the door. I jump up. It could only be John, the “hunter” who’d shown up a few days ago, introducing himself initially as FBI Agent Carrel, asking questions about the strange happenings around my house, and later revealing it was haunted by a ghost. A ghost!

Still, I’m jumpy from my recent encounter with the a murderous ghost a few hours before. “Who is it?” I call, hopefully loud enough to make it through the wall.

“It’s John,” a voice says from the other side.

I hop out of my salt circle and go unbolt and unlock the door. When I open it, John’s standing there. It’s dark, almost midnight, but the porch lights of my small, out-of-the-way home light up him up just enough for me to tell that he’s looking a little worse for wear: dirt on his clothes, scratches on the side of his face, the t-shirt under the flannel torn in several places.

“The ghost is taken care of,” he tells me. “Bones salted and burned. You’ll be safe now.” I feel a wave of relief. Safe. And then, unexpected, a brief wave of disappointment. The ghost is gone, which means John is going to leave now. After all he’s helped me through, after the inexplicable attraction that grew during the few days he’s been here…

He turns to leave, but I grab his jacket sleeve. “Wait,” I say. “I’m… Can you… Can you stay the night?” His face is totally stoic, not betraying any emotion, so I rush on. “I know the ghost is gone, but can you stay, just in case it’s not, somehow? It would make me feel a lot better.” It’s partly true. This big, old house I’d inherited from my aunt, full of spooky vibes (which turned out to be totally valid), is far from anyone who could help if something happened. But I also can’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, something would happen if he stayed.

The corner of his mouth turns up slightly and I feel a flutter of butterflies in my stomach. I flash a quick smile back at him, relieved he didn’t reject me outright.

“I can keep a watch out from outside,” he says, nodding to his car, which is, despite being at least three decades old, gorgeous.

I shake my head. “No, you don’t need to actively watch out for anything, so you should stay inside. I just want someone nearby. Just in case. It’s no trouble, really.” There’s a slight edge of pleading creeping into my voice and I hope I’m not coming off as desperate.

A long moment passes before he nods. “All right. If it would make you feel safer.”

I open the door more fully and gesture for him to come in. “I can set up the sofa for you to sleep on. Or…” I pause and bite my lip. Could I be so forward? He watches me, eyebrows slightly raised. “Yeah. Sofa,” I quickly say, ducking my head and going to grab some sheets from the closet.

He sits patiently at the table on the tiled part of the room, waiting while I set up. I straighten up after tucking in the fitted sheet, feeling self-conscious. “Can I, uh, get you something to drink?” I ask. He shakes his head, so I go back to putting the sheets on. I can still feel his eyes on me while I work.

“Okay, all done here,” I say. “I guess I’m going to head to bed.”

Another small, barely-smiling smile. He stands up and takes off his leather jacket. I should go, I think as he drapes his jacket over the chair and starts unbuttoning his flannel, but now’s my only chance. I should say something. He’ll be gone tomorrow morning, and I want him, I really, really want him.

He pulls off the flannel shirt and drops it on top of his jacket. I try to keep my mouth from dropping open. He’s in just a t-shirt now, his muscular biceps visible. Wow. He raises his eyebrows at me again, and I quickly turn and walk quickly into my room. I don’t have the guts to do anything. A tough guy like him? He wouldn’t be interested in a soft college girl like me.

I stand in front of my closet a little too long trying to decide what to wear. He’ll probably see me in the morning, so I want to look good. But not too good, like I’ve been trying. And it has to be something that makes me look mature. I pick out a satin tank/shorts combo. Yeah, this is good.

I try to get to sleep after that, I really do—if I can’t work up the courage to make something happen, I might as well get some rest—but how am I supposed to sleep knowing he’s just down the hall, a couple doors away? I toss and turn for an hour before I finally flip on the light and sit up in bed. God, I could use a drink. Just something small, to help me get to sleep.

I open my door as quietly as I can and slip into the hall, trying not to wake John. But I’m surprised to see the light still on at the end of the hall. I pad down the hallway, wondering what he’s still doing up. After digging up a grave and stopping a ghost, he must be exhausted.

When I reach the living room, I see he’s sitting at the table flipping through an old book with an open, half-finished bottle of Jack next to him. He looks up when he sees me. His eyes roam up my body, taking in my appearance, but he quickly looks away. I savor the warm feeling that spreads through me from seeing him looking.

“Hey,” I say. “Couldn’t sleep. Looks like you couldn’t either?”

He lets out a low, short laugh. “Usually can’t.”

I walk over and sit down next to him. “Can I?” I nod towards his bottle of booze.

“Are you even old enough to drink?”

“I’m twenty-two!” I say. Hearing it out loud, it sounds ridiculous, and I blush. I’m trying to impress this older man, and I just emphasized my immaturity.

He looks at me for a moment before nodding. “Help yourself.”

I get up and grab a couple of whiskey glasses from the counter before sitting back down and filling them halfway up. “Cheers,” I say, raising mine up. He picks up his glass and lightly taps it against mine, and we both down our whiskey. I crinkle my nose at the strength of it, burning all the way down to my stomach. It doesn’t take long for a light buzz to start running through me.

“So what are you reading?” I ask, peeking over at his book.

He rubs his eyes. “Demon lore.”

“Demons?” I ask. “Those exist?”

“Yes.”

“Have you seen one?” I’m curious. What do they look like?

There’s a long pause. He clenches his jaw. “Yes.”

I can tell it’s personal, so I don’t press. I pour another glass and sip at it. John’s back to reading his book now. At least he’s tryingto read. His eyes are moving back and forth, but they’re staying at the top of the page, like he’s not processing the words enough to move on to the next line.

“You saved my life, you know,” I say.

He looks up at me. “It’s part of my line of work.”

Yeah, a line of work that’s far from easy. I lightly place my hand over his, avoiding touching his red and torn knuckles. “I mean it.” I lightly run my fingers across the back of his hand in a way that I hope is getting across what I’m hoping for tonight.

He inhales sharply and pulls his hand out from underneath mine. “You’re so young.”

I frown. “I’m an adult.”

“I should get some rest,” he says, standing up. I stand up quickly too, and he’s close now, so close, less than a foot separating us. Up close he smells like leather and sweat and blood, a combination that has absolutely no right to be so intoxicating. I set a hand lightly on his chest. I look up—he’s got at least eight inches on me—and meet his eyes. His brow is furrowed as he studies my face.

“What are you doing?” he murmurs.

My hand slides up and around to the back of his neck, pulling him down to me. I press my lips against his. He kisses back, slowly, hesitantly, then pulls away. “You’re so young,” he repeats.

“I’m old enough.” My hand is still on his neck, and I lightly run my fingers through his hair. He closes his eyes. “Please. I want you,” I say, probably coming off as desperate, but not caring.

He shakes his head. “This isn’t a good idea.”

I bite my lip. His body, so close to mine, is making it hard to think. “It’s just one night,” I say.

He looks up and away, a torn look on his face.

“Please?” I say again.

His jaw sets. He’s come to a decision. I only hope…

He leans down and kisses me. Harder this time. Hungrier. His tongue runs lightly across my upper lip, pressing for an invitation. I open my mouth slightly and his tongue meets mine. My hand slips from the back of his neck to the side of his face. There’s a slight prickle of stubble against my skin, and want floods through me. His masculinity—in the way he feels, the way he smells, the way he tastes—is overwhelming in the best way.

His hand comes to rest lightly on my hip and then slowly works its way up under my top. He runs a thumb over my breast, gently grazing the nipple, and I let out a soft moan. I’ve been with other men, men my age, but it’s never felt like this. I’ve never felt so much desire.

I pull back for just a moment to pull off my top, fully bare for him. I tug at the bottom of his t-shirt, and he pulls it off. I run a hand up slowly through his chest hair, bringing my palm to rest on his jaw.

“Bedroom?” I whisper between kisses.

He nods, wrapping his arms around my hips and lifting me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and he holds me like I weigh nothing. God, he’s strong. His lips never leaving mine, he walks us down the hall and into my bedroom, only bumping a couple picture frames off the wall as we go.

When we get to my room, he pulls away just long enough to see where the bed is and then deposits me on it. He’s standing above me, eyes wild and wanting, and desire courses through me. I squeeze my legs together tightly for a second, a futile attempt to relieve the pressure building between them.

His fingers run along the band of my shorts and he makes eye contact with me, waiting for permission. I nod, and he slowly starts to pull them down, trailing kisses from between my breasts to down between my legs. Lower, and lower, until he gets… there.

I hold back a moan, arching slightly at the pleasure as his tongue stimulates me. A finger slips between my legs and slides into me and I bite my lip, squeezing my eyes shut. Oh, god. I’m getting closer, closer… Too close.

“Mm. John, wait,” I say, and he pauses and looks up at me, eyes still dark with desire. Fuck. “I want you inside me.”

He grins at me, more expressive than he’s been all week. He climbs up on the bed over me, lowering his head to kiss me. I didn’t think I’d like the taste of myself, but on his lips… God, I can’t get enough.

I struggle to undo his belt, distracted by the kiss. I feel his lips curl upwards against mine and then he pulls back for a moment, just long enough to undo his belt and slip out of his pants and boxer briefs.

I’m dazed, my whole body feeling hyper-sensitive and electrified. I run my eyes down him. Eyes filled with lust, scruffy beard, muscled, hairy chest, and… Wow. I lick my lips. “Condom. Top nightstand drawer.”

I lie back as he rifles through the drawer and pulls out a condom. He leans over and tears open the packet with his teeth. Goddamn. My hand drifts down towards between my legs to relieve the want building in me, but he grabs my hand and pins it next to my head. He shakes his head. “That’s my job, sweetheart.”

He drops my hand and slips on the condom. He trails a finger across the sensitive area between my legs—oh fuck—and slowly up my torso, coming to rest over my breast.

“Inside me,” I repeat.

He laughs softly. “No patience.”

“Please?”

He smiles again and adjusts himself. I feel him brush up against my opening, the whole area wet and ready. He bends down to kiss me and then pushes inside.

I turn and let out a satisfied exhale into John’s neck.

“Fuck,” he growls. He pumps in and out, slowly at first, and then faster. He presses up against my clit with each thrust and I gasp, pressing my head back into the bed. It feels so good it’s almost painful.

He runs a tongue up my breast, across my collarbone, to the side of my neck. I put my hand on his cheek and guide him up to my mouth, kissing him, short, hungry kisses as he continues to move against me.

I’m close. I’m close. I’m… I inhale sharply. “Oh, fuck. Fuck.”

“You there, sweetheart?” he murmurs into my ear, his voice hoarse.

“Yes. Nnnn. Fuck.” My eyes are squeezed shut as I ride it out, pleasure pulsing through my whole body. He feels so good still. So damn good, even when it’s too—almost too—much.

He thrusts in one more time and freezes, a shudder passing through him. “Mm.” He drops his head, breathing hard.  “Fuck.”

I laugh breathlessly. “No kidding.”

He pulls out and lies down next to me. We stare at the ceiling for what must be a couple of minutes, the sounds of us catching our breath the only noise in the room.

My breath slows enough for me to talk, but I’m still close to speechless. “That was… Thanks.”

He doesn’t reply. When I look at him, he’s still looking at the ceiling, a relaxed look on his face. He senses me looking and turns his head, giving me a slight smile. I smile back, a much bigger, more obvious smile.

I move myself up the bed a couple of feet so my head is over my pillow and climb under the sheets. I pat the pillow next to me, and John follows my lead and slips under the sheets with me. Now that the pleasure’s fading, sleepiness is starting to wash over me.

I snuggle up against him, the little spoon to his big spoon.

“Do you regret it?” he says softly.

I roll over so I’m face to face with him. “Regret it?”

He still looks relaxed, tired like me, but there’s a hint of doubt in his eyes. “Sex. With me.”

“Are you kidding?”

He doesn’t respond, just holds my gaze steadily.

I can feel a blush rising to my cheeks as I say, “Of course I don’t regret it. That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

He looks placated, though a hint of what looks like guilt lingers. “Glad to hear it, sweetheart.”

I run a hand over the coarse hair on his chest, pressing a kiss to his lips. My eyes start to drift shut in tiredness and I blink them back open, throwing him an embarrassed smile—I know my face is far from attractive when I sleep. I roll back over, and he drapes his arm over my hips.

I’d started my evening afraid of being killed by a ghost, but now I couldn’t feel more secure, here in the arms of a man who I know can protect me.

—

When I wake up, John’s side of the bed is empty and cold. The couch has been unmade, the sheets put away. Besides the two dirty whiskey glasses and an extra set of tire treads in the driveway, there are no signs he was ever here at all.

I’m disappointed he’s gone, but I’m glad I got a chance to spend the night with him. I’ll be holding on to this memory for a long time, stowed away for when I need a little release.

[lu-undy]

Hello! I was wondering, how about sniperspy version of "seduce me" hehehe

Alright, this took me ages and I hope I met your expectations! I had great fun with this one and I hope I’ll give the same smiles I had on my face as when I wrote it.

"So, what is it you seek with me?" 

Sniper was standing awkwardly in Spy's suite. He was nervously fiddling with his hat between his fingers in front of the Frenchman who looked, on the other hand, as if he couldn't possibly be more comfortable. 

"I uh, I'd like some advice." 

"And you decided that of all the people you could ask, I would be best?" Spy raised an eyebrow. 

Sniper sighed and nodded. 

"Pray take a seat." 

Spy extended an inviting hand and Sniper obliged, albeit on the edge of the armchair. The Frenchman, who wasn't wearing his jacket or vest but only his shirt and tie, took a seat opposite him, on the other armchair. The coffee table separating them as well as the fireplace on Sniper's left, or Spy's right.

"So, how may I help?"

He gathered his fingertips and elegantly put a leg on the other. 

"I uh… Well, there's this… person."

Spy hid his surprise. 

"I… I like them… I'd like to know them better and I don't really know how to, y'know, approach them and start the whole thing." 

"Ah, I see."

Spy nodded slowly.

"So yeah, that's my problem."

"And you are asking me because…?"

"Cause I know you're good with this stuff. And I…"

"And?" Spy repeated.

"And I hoped you wouldn't make fun of me."

Spy smiled but not in an arrogant way, non, not when his colleague had made the effort to come out of his den of a van and be honest with him.

"I will help you." 

Sniper raised his eyes to his masked friend. 

"But you need to know that there is no way to do this without getting out of your comfort zone." The Frenchman said.

"Yeah…"

"I am serious, Sniper, I know you adore your solitude in that van of yours but if you really want to approach someone, you will have to come out of your shell quite a bit. Are you sure that it is what you want?"

Sniper looked left and right. 

"I uh, I'll try."

"That will not do." Spy answered and the Aussie lowered his head, frowning. 

"You need not to try, but to succeed; if you really want that person, that is." 

Spy paused before he added:

"Do you?"

The silence lasted for half a minute or so but for Sniper it was eternity and it weighed on his entire being. He closed his eyes. 

"Spy, I-" Sniper's breath cut on its own. Spy watched with attention. The tension on his colleague's body was visible. “Yeah. I want to."

"Bien, in this case, I first need an idea of what I am working with."

[Good.]

Sniper raised a curious eyebrow. His eyes met with the Frenchman's ice blue ones. 

"Show me what you can do." 

"What d'you mean?" Sniper asked. 

"Seduce me."

Sniper gulped down hard and he felt himself sweat. 

"W-what?" 

"Seduce me." The Frenchman repeated as he moved to sit on the sofa.

"Alroight."

Sniper stood up and adjusted the collar of his red polo shirt. He made sure it was tucked in his trousers and rolled up his sleeves. 

"Roight." He took a deep breath and approached the Frenchman whose eyes were locked on the fireplace. Sniper sat next to his friend, but not too close. 

"Hey." 

Spy turned his head to him. 

"How're you doin'?" 

"Not too bad. Yourself?" 

"Yeah, I-I'm alroight… I think… Uh…" Sniper put a hand behind his neck. 

"You think?" 

"Y-yeah, well, nah, I'm-I'm fine." 

Spy smiled. He knew his colleague wasn't very good with social interactions but he hadn't imagined he would be at a loss that much. 

"You can ask me what I do for work if you don't know it, or what I do outside of work." The Frenchman suggested. 

"Ah, yeah, that's a good idea. So uh, what do you do outside o'work? Got any hobbies?" 

"I collect short blades. I have about three hundred of them. Some I like for personal reasons, others because their fabrication was a work of art in itself. I also like to read." 

"Oh, cool, that's nice, I like knives but I don't know much about them. I just look at them like paintings, I suppose." 

Spy was surprised but didn't let it show. Sniper had continued on the conversation as if collecting hundreds of knives was ordinary. 

"And uh…" The Aussie continued. "What d'you like to read?" 

"French literature. Mainly 19th century authors. I find contemporary authors quite empty and arrogant. I much prefer the man who wrote without knowing that he would be famous hundreds of years after his death."

Sniper had drank his colleague's words like a priceless wine. 

"Oh, wow… That's quite poetic, the way you put it, eh?" 

Spy smiled. 

"I do like it that way, don't you?" 

Sniper blushed and looked away as Spy's eyes were too sharp. 

"Part of me does."

"And the other part?"

"Tries to hide it."

"Why?" 

"Because… I don't think that's what people like in general, eh. Can't be a hunter and a poet. People think huntin' is barbaric but that's because they never tried."

Spy raised an eyebrow and listened as Sniper's eyes locked on the dancing flames in the fireplace. 

"Hunting can be complicated and takes ages. It's not just point and shoot. First you want to attract your target's attention, you want to know it well, understand its behaviour, the patterns painted on its soul. And when you decide to approach, it is to get it but you mustn't do it too soon, eh."

"Otherwise?" 

"Otherwise the target just runs away and you don't want that… Also, when you take your aim and decide that it's the right moment to shoot, your entire body is focused on that one particular target. You hold your breath to steady your aim, your eyes see nothing but the target, your mind think about nothing but the target. Only the target exists." 

Spy tilted his head on the side and the corner of his lips pursed up in a smile. 

"And then you shoot. In a split second, you have taken the target from this life to the next. And God forbid you ever have to shoot twice. Hunting isn't a game and you must treat the target with the utmost respect. There's no point in making it suffer. You want to kill it as cleanly as possible." 

"Tell me, Sniper..." Spy pulled his friend out of his almost monologue. 

"Yeah?" 

"You said that you were ready to make outstanding efforts to get that person, oui?" 

"Yeah." 

"Why?" 

Sniper's eyes lowered slowly. 

"H-they're… special." 

"How so?"

"They… count a lot to me." Sniper took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "First, they're gorgeous. They're absolutely stunnin'. I look at them and I can feel my eyes burn when I do, because that's how hard their image gets imprinted in my head."

"Hm." Spy nodded to show he was following.

"And then they're… They're just perfect… Yeah, well, ok, I don't think we go well together and I don't have much hope they'll accept to spend more time with me."

"But?" 

"But I have to do it."

"Why?" 

"Because I can't think about any bloody one else! I wake up and they're the first image that comes to my mind. I work and I can see them in my head all the time, and when I go to bed, I… I just wish they were with me." 

The Aussie sighed. 

"Tssk it's ridiculous. I know it won't work." 

"What?" Spy asked. 

"I'm givin' myself false hopes. I-I'm hoping they could like me but I know they don't and they won't." 

"Sniper." 

He raised his eyes to his friend's. 

"Tell me more about them." 

"What do you want to know?" 

"When you see them, what do you think?" 

"I can't."

"Well if you want me to help you, you will have to help me with that!"

"No, you don't get it."

Spy raised a curious eyebrow. He noticed Sniper was tapping his foot relentlessly on the floor. 

"I can't think when I see them is what I mean. I… I just don't know anything anymore. They're… I'd kill to just have an evening more with them." 

Spy's eyebrow twitched at the "more". 

"And in fact, that's what I do everyday. I kill and kill, hoping they would, y'know, maybe pay a bit of attention to me…" 

Sniper took a deep breath and sighed.

"Sniper, what do you feel for them?" 

Spy's voice was delightfully calm. 

"He has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. He's gorgeous." Sniper lowered his face and hid it in his hands. "When I see him, nothin' else matters anymore, I just become obsessed, and-and stupid I s'ppose."

"Have you tried talking to him before?"

"Once."

"How did it go?" 

Sniper raised his head again. 

"There wasn't a second that I didn't appreciate. I sat next to him and… It's like I could feel the heat of his body even though I wasn't touching it. I felt hot and sweated b-but I'm so bad with words, Spy, why does it have to be so hard?" 

Spy looked at his friend and smiled. 

"Ah but that is what I meant when I said that you would have to come out of your shell. Engaging with someone is exhausting in truth."

"Even fer you?" Sniper looked him in the eyes briefly.

Spy chuckled. 

"Oui, even for me. But if you feel so strongly for them, I can only understand the torture that is going on inside of you, the constant indecision. Should I, or should I not? Will that get me closer to him, or push me farther? Besides, I did not know you could enjoy the company of men." 

Sniper realised only then that he had been using "he" and "him" the whole time.  He blushed so hard he might have blown up.

"Ahem, well, I mean uh…"

"But don't get me wrong, mon ami, far from me the idea to judge. I can appreciate a man's company too."

[My friend]

"Oh, really?" 

"Oui. And, if it is confession time, I will add that there is one that my heart is not insensitive to."

"Oh…"

"Let me tell you more, it might help you…" 

Spy adjusted himself on his seat and cleared his throat.

"I don't recall how I started getting interested in him and I must admit that it surprised me when I realised that I did. You see, I am no stranger to romantic stories and am well versed in it all. Also, rarely have I faced rejection."

"But?" Sniper half guessed. 

"But that man is different. He is so different that I genuinely do not know how to approach him."

Sniper raised a curious eyebrow. 

"Oui, even I don't know so who will? But one thing is for sure, you would never think I could fall for such a man. He is my polar opposite in all aspects and all ways possible and I fear that if I did as much as talk to him, I might ruin it all." 

"Did you try and talk to him or…?" 

"Oui, once. We had a long conversation. Oddly enough, it happened in this very room. I was sitting here and him, more or less where you are now." 

Spy sighed but his lips were pursed in a genuine smile and his eyes were dreamy.

"We had a chat that I wished could last forever. His voice is such a delight to my ears. He doesn't use it often, but when he does, it is such a sweet melody…" 

Sniper blushed seeing how Spy felt. He had never imagined the Frenchman could tell him something that personal, and he seemed honest about it too…!

"Sniper, if I had to describe him, I would say that yes indeed, no one would imagine him and me together. And believe me, it is very hard for me too. I cannot imagine for a second that he would want it either. Of course I do guess that he is not insensitive to my charms but I think that I am lacking what he might be looking for in someone else."

"D'you know if he's into blokes?" 

"Well I did my fair share of research on the man and came to learn very recently that yes, he does not exclude that possibility. What about you?"

"Yeah, same." 

"We are fortunate then." 

"And cowards." Sniper added and Spy's eyebrows jumped. "Cause we're talkin' here on your sofa and not really amounting to much, are we?" 

"Would you be achieving more anywhere else?" Spy asked. 

"N-no, not really, that's true." 

"Then I suppose we are not so cowardly." 

"I guess so… But, Spook, uhm, d-do you… I mean I can't imagine you do eh, but, do you feel like you're dumb when you're around him? I mean I lose my words and-and I stutter a lot more than usual and…"

"Ah, I see what you mean. I might feel so but I have long learned how to control my emotions, so it doesn't really show. Although I feel the soft tingling in my insides, the electricity in the air and in me when my eyes meet his. His eyes are blue, but very different from mine." 

"Ah, same for me. I just have blue eyes but his are… My God, they're somethin' else, when he looks at me I'm so scared that he might see that-"

"That you love him?" 

"Y-yeah… His eyes are so piercing he might as well see through me and behind, as if I was transparent."

“You are fairly easy to read, Sniper.”

“Huh?” He sweated more heavily, feeling put on the spot. “What d’you mean?”

“Let me explain. I think you have said a lot about that man, almost enough for me to know who he is.” Spy grinned smugly.

“W-what? N-no, how?!”

“Correct me if I am wrong.” Spy closed his fist and opened his thumb. “First, the person is a man.”

Sniper nodded.

“Then,” Spy extended his index finger. “You know what job he has.”

The Aussie’s eyes snapped wide. 

“How did you know?”

“You didn’t ask for his job, but his hobbies.”

“Ah, y-yeah.”

“There is also the fact that he knows that you are a hunter at least.”

Sniper lowered his head.

“Add to that the fact that you never go anywhere near people and I do imagine this is your first time out of your beloved Australia, the man you have your thoughts on is in this base or the other one.”

The Aussie’s knee bounced faster up and down.

“Now, I know your professionalism and I do believe he isn’t one of the enemy, which then means that he is in our team, is he?”

Sniper hid his face in his hands and shyly nodded.

“Interesting. The man I have my thoughts on is also in this team.”

The Aussie’s face flashed up to his colleague.

“W-what?”

Spy wasn’t sure if he saw surprise or disappointment.

“I love him, Sniper. What you describe about the heat of his body, ah… I can only dream about letting my fingers trail his cheeks and entire body, and I did. How many times? Bah, not enough times for me, and sure too many for you who are listening to me. But what else can I do? As you know, I am used to romance but he is so different, so special. I cannot invite him to a restaurant, I cannot take him out for a ride, I… I am condemned to enjoy him like I would a priceless work of art, from a distance, and without doing more than just watching.”

Spy sighed.

“Maybe I am asking too much, maybe I should just content myself with what I have but… My thoughts are stuck on him, his tall and slim silhouette, his beautiful eyes, there is something wild and primitive about him that burns my insides, Sniper…”

“W-wait, he’s on the team and he’s tall and slim. So… That’s not Engie, Heavy, Pyro, Soldier or Scout. You’re taller than them and Heavy’s not slim. That leaves Demo and Medic. But I can’t see how Medic could have something wild about him. Oh bloody hell, it’s Demo?!”

Spy chuckled. 

“I also forgot to say that he is adorably selfless. His smile is rare but when I see it, I can feel flutters everywhere in my chest, as if it contained butterflies that had been kept dormant for too long. Only he can make me feel those things, only the sight of him can do hat. Well, not only the sight. When he blesses me with his voice and his attention, very few words can describe what that generates.”

Spy turned to Sniper.

“It’s Demo, isn’t it…?” The Aussie repeated, with a disgruntled sigh.

“You sound disappointed.”

“N-no, I-I’m just surprised, is all.”

Spy spotted the bad lie as easily as an elephant in a porcelain shop.

“Sniper?”

“Hm…”

“Look at me.”

“I am.”

“Non, in my eyes.”

Sniper took a deep breath and raised his defeated eyes to the Frenchman.

“You forgot someone in the team.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did.”

“Who? Miss Pauling! She isn’t a man, is she?”

Spy chuckled and moved closer to his friend on the sofa.

“Indeed she is not.”

“So it’s not her?”

“Non, it is not.”

“Then who?”

“Look in this very room, do you not see anyone else?”

“Y-you? You can’t be lovin’ yourself, I mean, you can’t find yerself wild, can you? If anything I live in a van and all, so I’m wilder than you and-?”

Spy had nodded which cut Sniper short.

“W-what?”

“You have finally found him.”

“W-wait, who?”

Sniper was sweating bullets as he saw Spy’s gloved fingers rise and soon he felt the velvet against his cheek.

“Toi.”

[You.]

Spy’s dreamy eyes were a sight to behold. He looked in love indeed but the Australian couldn’t believe it, so he refused to and frowned.

“I understand I might not be the one that you put in your heart Sniper, and I respect that.” The Frenchman removed his hand from Sniper’s cheek. “I will not trouble you with my feelings again and shall help you talk to whoever you want.”

Spy was annoyed, that was clear enough in his slightly clenched jaw and furrowed brow. But if Sniper needed help, he would oblige.

“So, who is it?”

Sniper’s jaw had dropped and for seconds that felt like eternity for them both, he was incapable of producing any sounds, let alone words.

“Sniper?”

“You love me?” He finally asked.

“I do. Now, can we not dwell on this, as you are obviously looking for someone else.”

Irritated, Spy took his cigarette case out and opened it. He was about to take one when-

“I love you too.”

“What?” Spy’s cigarette case fell off his hands. He stopped sharp and looked up at the Aussie. “You cannot change your feelings that fast. You can fake it, oui, but you cannot enter this room with someone in your heart and exit with someone else.”

“Ya wanker, it’s you I was talking about since the beginning!”

Spy’s eyes flashed with the flames that they reflected from the fireplace.

“You lie very poorly.”

“Oh that’s rich... “ Sniper spat. “One, you’re the bloody Spy here and two, look at me!”

Spy had been busy picking up his cigarette case from his lap and collecting the cigarettes scattered there. He stopped to look at the Aussie.

“I… I…”

“Pathetic. You lie so poorly that you cannot even say it.”

Spy felt his feelings flip like a wave crashing. He went from head over heels for the man to furious, fuming with rage. He clenched his teeth.

“I LOVE YOU!” Sniper shouted and his roar was so powerful, that it startled the Frenchman on his seat, tipping over his cigarette case again. He blushed intensely seeing the Aussie get that loud for the first ever time. His voice had projected so powerfully, he worried that the entire base had heard it.

“I love you, alroight?” Sniper repeated with his usual calm voice this time. “I came here to ask you how I could… Talk to you… And spend more time with you. Yeah, as you said, I don’t do fancy dinners and all that but I love you. I can’t not think about you. So I thought of this to spend more time with you. I don’t know what you like, posh stuff I guess, so that was the only way.”

Spy’s eyes were riveted on his spilled cigarette case again on his lap but when his friend finished, he raised his eyes to him. 

“And you were ready to help me get with someone else?” Sniper asked.

“Oui.”

“Why?”

“I want to see you smile, even if I am not the reason for it.”

And Sniper obliged. His face radiated with an innocent, almost naive grin, which Spy reciprocated.

“I’m sorry I’m bad with words…”

“Don’t be, it makes you more charming.”

And with that, Spy leaned on Sniper’s shoulder. They found each other’s hands and slid their fingers through without a word. They couldn’t hear the fire crackle, their heartbeats were too loud.