#which is frustrating because like. I'm attracted to plenty of women who look like me!!

[jellogram]

None of my clothes fucking fit me anymore and I'm like leaning over the bathroom counter gritting my teeth going "this is fine this is fine this is fine" because I'm trying to dress cute for my night out but I haven't dressed cute in so long that none of my cool clothes fit me and I look ridiculous and I want to cry. I'm trying really hard to be okay with my weight but I have this really nice leather jacket I got for my birthday a few years ago and it's too small for me now.

[olderthannetfic]

This might be a somewhat controversial opinion/rant, but as a black queer woman (i really id myself as being more genderqueer, but since i'm afab there are just things about womanhood growing up that has just stuck with me as formative experiences.), I find it really difficult to build community with queer men, even in fandom. I've tried to have friendships with transmen, but so many just feel the need to ramp up misogyny to 1000 to validate themselves as men, and then with gay men, some will say the most out-of-pocket, misogynistic things but because they're not attracted to women, it's somehow okay, I guess. But lately, there's been this trend among queer men of saying and doing misogynistic things but justifying it by stating they're talking about white, cishet women. But the thing is, there's nothing in what they said that can be specifically applied to only white women. It's a target to all women (I refuse to play the oppression olympics of who has it worse). And now I see other queer women in fandom saying the same things to each other. I typically stay in anime/manga and danmei fanbases because that's where a lot of my interests are now, and I don't have to deal with USAian nonsense as much. But now that 7 Seas has unfortunately decided to translate more danmei into English that's changed. A queer male fan of a popular series has been unfollowed en masse by danmei fans for saying wildly misogynistic things about the author. Everyone all week has been scrambling to figure out where this came from. "He only ever said these things about cishet white women," but you guys... he was always talking about us the whole time. Now, I just don't know. Now I see why men aren't generally welcomed in or are common within romance-genre circles. It's just really frustrating to see the same thing over and over again. I'll add on that the only genuinely cool queer men in fandom I've met have come from yuri circles. The ones who try to talk about BL are, from my experiences, generally misogynistic, toxic, and feel as though everything should center around them because they're men and in BL the characters are men, as well. But when other women don't want to form community with them, they scream about 'homophobia' and 'fetishizing gay men.' No, you're just an annoying, awful person to be around, and the queer male yuri fans didn't want to deal with you either. Has anyone else, or you specifically, dealt with this? Is there a way to become friends with more queer men in BL spaces who aren't... like That? Or are there specific things/patterns to look for as far as who to avoid?

--

God, so much of this sounds so familiar.

I've known a sad number of trans dudes who overcompensate in dickhead ways. A lot of them do calm down a few years into presenting publicly as male, but it's infuriating to see that crap even if it's temporary.

I will say that two of my close circle of offline friends are trans men, including one who came out during the time we've all been friends. The defensive tomfoolery is in no way inevitable. Both of these dudes are nonwhite and have experience in various other geeky and queer spaces beyond BL (gaming, drag queens, etc.). Maybe that broader perspective helped, or maybe they're just nicer and more mature people than a lot of the little jerkfaces I run across online.

TBH, I often have better luck in offline meetups because to show up at all, people have to be a little more comfortable with getting along with others and behaving themselves. It's also sometimes easier to detect the people you want to back away from slowly when you can see how they treat people in person.

One of my neighbors is a cis gay guy. White, able bodied, middle class, yadda yadda. Exactly the demographic you'd expect to be the worst in certain spaces. He and his partner have lots of queer friends, and plenty of them aren't fellow cis gay guys, which is basically my litmus test for non-annoying cis gay guys offline. (Toxic cis gay dude culture is its own kettle of fish with a different set of issues than defensive trans boy culture, but I've encountered it plenty too.)

This neighbor is interested in geikomi and was delighted to find out I'm a fellow nerd and eager for all my nonfiction book recs about queer Japanese stuff. We don't necessarily overlap in our manga tastes, but there's still a lot we do share. When I ramble on about how AFAB queer people and/or bisexuals study history that's presented as cis gay men's history because that's all we have for most historical periods, he's like "Yeah, that makes total sense!" and not "Mine and not yours!"

I think the key here is that this is a dude who is secure in his identity, who's getting both his media and queer community needs met, and who's in his 40s, so he has some god damn perspective and doesn't need to pretend BL is aimed at him.

A lot of the little jerkfaces make me think "Did your preschool teacher not teach you how to share your toys?"

--

To be honest, there seem to be plenty of dudes hanging around my tumblr. A few cis. Many trans. But they're not going to bring it up incessantly in some defensive "you know I'm not a cootie-having girl, right?" way because who does that?

It comes up when there's a discussion about trans shit or BL as #ownvoices or whatever. (And, in general, any dude worth hanging out with will not think BL as an industry is, or should be, anything of the sort—even if he's expressing his own sense of queerness by writing some.)

On the flipside, I have seen some pretty extreme "no boys allowed" clubhouse nonsense in fandom. It's less common than it was, and past shitty dudes have often been the inspiration, but it can still be a bit much. The nicer class of fandom dude is often pretty hesitant in certain spaces because he's expecting to be met with hostility and is trying to figure out how to participate without tromping all over everyone. (TBH, the guys worrying about this are rarely the problem, but you know how it is.)

I've had dudes send me private messages being like "this thing you said seems kind of stereotypical and anti-man", but in the adult capable of conversation way, not in the tantruming 5-year-old way. And we had a conversation, and they stuck around.

I think having a very clear "It's not #ownvoices, fuck off" stance deters a lot of the more pestilential set. Being equally clear that everyone is welcome and that male yuri fans and female BL fans are pretty equivalent makes the guys worth knowing come out of the woodwork.

In 99% of spaces, I do not give a fuck if some man has his precious feelings hurt by a double standard or default suspicion of men... But fandom is a little unusual because of the demographics and relative power here being so different from in most spaces.

I've definitely seen some people who think women liking BL are fine because we care about characters' personalities, while male fans are all predators or all write f/f that is just fetishy porn or m/m that sounds like Nifty.org and not other fanfic or whatever.

And, yeah, I'll shut down the dumbasses crying in my inbox because I made a joke about Nifty and "coke can dicks" (the kind of guys who have clearly never read m/m that's aimed at dudes outside of fandom spaces), but at the same time, we should extend a little benefit of the doubt to our fellow fandom members of whatever gender. There are usually plenty of men facepalming right along with me at these inexperienced young fools who cannot bear to share.

I think you're just running into the problem that the loud people whose identities you know are often using those identities to browbeat other fans on social media.

--

There are fewer men in BL spaces than women or nonbinary people, so one will typically end up knowing fewer men.

Honestly, I think you find the reasonable people and get rid of the unreasonable ones in the same way regardless of gender: Gatekeeping bullshit is a red flag. Very Online understandings of oppression are a red flag. Enthusiastic and clueless blanket endorsement of own voices as a concept is a red flag. Lots of talking about "fetishization" or even "appropriation" in a very online way is a massive red flag. Monetizing fanfic or seeing other pro authors as competition instead of peers is another. (Professional jealousy and fear about earning potential are behind a lot of bad behavior.)

A lot of it is down to whether you're willing to make yourself a target by publicly telling annoying people to fuck off.

If others can tell what you stand for, they can figure out if they want to hang out with you. Most people keep their heads down a lot of the time, so it can be hard to even hear of them, let alone know if they're your sort of person.

--

tl;dr – Be nice to nice men. Tell shitty men to take a hike. Making friends with men is really as simple as that.

There are larger issues here with what kinds of queer spaces exist and whom they prioritize and with toxic understandings of what representation even means and what should be demanded of whose art. But as you say, a lot of women are also promoting toxic-ass understandings of these things.

The bottom line is that we must resist social media clout-driven understandings of justice. The loudest assholes in the room are rarely worth listening to.

[faelapis]

Is there any story trope you personally dislike aside from redeemed by death/ the ultimate evil?

oh sure, plenty. everything is context sensitive, there's very few i'm gonna straight up say is bad in every iteration, but here's a few that stand out to me as "usually a bad sign":

brainwashing. if the central conflict between the characters is just due to your friend being brainwashed rather than having real disagreements with you, thats typically weak.

hate sink-characters. the more "emotional" a trope is, the more difficult it is to define... but sometimes you can just. tell. that the author despises a character and wants the audience to feel nothing but hate towards them. this can be so pushy and exaggerated in the narrative that i defiantly find myself doing the opposite - removing all emotion, analyzing them from a purely meta perspective of what, exactly, makes them "hated" by the narrative.

torture porn. what it sounds like - excessive, gory violence which is so uncomfortable to look at it distracts from the story. this is, of course, appealing to some, its just VERY not for me. and if it focuses on the bodies of female characters, it oft becomes the more general societal ill of sexualized violence, which is its own can of worms.

can be deconstructed or reframed to call attention to sexism and the violence against women, such as in works like the handmaids tale. however, these tend not to be sexualized violence in the same way, because they're not framed to be tittilating.

strong woman = femme fatale. aka "badass woman as written by horny man." i tried to not pick too many tropes that are just "sexism", but i had to say something about this. and yes, i know there's plenty LGBT+ fans of this trope. i know that its not always bad to see sexualized characters. even if those characters are mainly women.

but there's just... something very annoying, when a male author is trying to do female empowerment, but it HAS to be in relation to her sexuality or attractiveness. its just such a "tell" that that's your main lens of looking at women. like ok. good to know "using your sexuality to lure men" is the only way you can conceptualize women as active characters. definitely doesn't just mean you need every female character to be hot.

characters being too smart / self-aware. by that i don't mean being "mary sues" or whatever. i mean when theyre so self-aware of their own flaws and issues that you don't really buy them as characters. this can work in a comedy, but it can be frustrating when employed in drama and works against the conflict.

a reason i can only "like" but not "love" atla is that i feel the characters would do this a bit too much. like when zuko explains directly to the camera how even at the age of 12 he totally knew the fire nation was evil and bad, despite all his cultural socialization and education pointing to them as rightful rulers and liberators.

think also when characters speak like their own therapists - totally aware of their own flaws and insecurities, like they were objective outsiders with writer clairvoyance rather than someone actually living through those problems. this CAN be earned, but often, its not.

endless escalation of villains. especially in relation to redemption.

i wrote this one last because i have a lot to say here. what i mean by "in relation to redemption", is this: lets say you want to redeem an antagonist. but you also want that former antagonist and the good guys to go on adventures together.

what do you do? you write in a BIGGER, BADDER antagonist, who is higher up / more powerful than the last one.

and if you defeat or redeem that one, you write in an EVEN BIGGER, SCARIER villain to be the True Evil, who is not afforded any of the humanity of the "lesser" villains and exists to be hated. usually someone who abused the previous antagonists.

i was actually a bit worried steven universe was gonna do this for a while. namely, when peridot had her confrontation with yellow diamond, and when it was revealed pink diamond was abused by the other diamonds. but thankfully, the show was consistent enough to humanize even its "worst" antagonists. it understands that the point of a "cycle of abuse" story isnt to destroy the source, but to see how everyone are products of their environments and capable of change.

unlike horde prime in spop / the fire lord in atla / the storm king in mlp / the core in amphibia / bill cipher in gravity falls / the beast in over the garden wall, etc etc etc.

its not that this trope can never be done well. its just that its an overdone cliche, and when continued in perpetuity, gives the impression that the only way redemption is possible is if there's someone "even worse" out there you can blame everything on. it reinforces black/white morality "but with rare exceptions" if you were a sad abused woobie rather than a true villain.

[muckmagister]

how did you figure out you do like girls but dont like guys???? or. wait. I seem to remember an ask a while ago about whether it's girls or pussy that you like actually. I don't mind whatever genitals people got but I'm trying to figure out why I'm attracted to some people but not others and what the hell it has to do with and it's kind of confusing but I partly blame abigail thorn for the caution tape outfit in her latest video /lh

oh i've seen that thumbnail on my home page a few times now! haven't watched the video but it did look interesting, funnily enough that outfit didn't do anything for me like what it seems it did for you lmao, even though i do like girls like you said, anyway long post ahead

i don't think it's fair to say that i "figured out" i like girls but don't like guys, cause since i'm amab it was always the expectation that i'd eventually develop an interest in girls (and only girls) and that's what happened

but that's not to say i haven't ever thought about if there's anything more to my sexuality, like honestly i think i've thought about having sex with men way more than you'd expect from someone who doesn't want to have sex with men lmao

see, until i realised i was non-binary my friends would constantly insist that there was something queer about me, that i wasn't straight or cis or whatever, so i just wanted to know if there was anything i fancied about it and now i can say concretely that i don't feel comfortable doing any sex stuff with someone who has a penis and sadly i doubt i ever will

but of course it's not that simple, like i also just have this nebulous feeling of aversion to men in general when it comes to romantic and sexual stuff, and it's not that i don't like masculinity, masculine women can be hot as hell, it's more that there's just a lot of caveats when it comes to stuff like this; like sometimes i've come across femboys on here and i see them and think they're hot too, then i find out they're actually men and i sit there like huh well they're still hot but i know i wouldn't like doing anything with them, and when it comes to women it should almost go without saying that i'm not going to find each and every woman attractive either, whether it's because some have penises or more often they're just not my type

honestly each persons sexuality is like a fractal with how the closer you look the more complexities you'll find, even when it starts out as something so black and white as "i like women but not men", everyone has a myriad of preferences plenty of which they may not even be aware of themselves, i've only been talking about my own experience so far and you can see how much i've said, but i've had to hold myself back from saying even more

i think it's not something you should stress yourself out with trying to figure out, as long you treat people niceys, but i totally get wanting to know what's actually going on!! it's frustrating to have such a large part of yourself be a mystery to you, and while talking and having new experiences helps it's ultimately something you'll have to ruminate on to figure out for yourself, and it's definitely confusing so hopefully something i've said helps you out somehow :>

i will say that while it's up to you to decide what labels you think fit, also remember that the labels are totally made up! you don't need to strictly conform to a definition to use them, it's all vibes and silly putty over here, really

[tuiccim]

Hi! I love your writing, you are amazing! Are you taking requests? if you are, can I ask for one, where the reader is bi, but has only been with women so far, so she's really nervous about sleeping with Bucky for the first time? I don't know if this is good, but if you want to write it, it would be great! If not, that's totally okay! Love u🖤

Hello my love! I am so sorry this took so long to get to. I hope you enjoy it.

High Score

Pairing: Bucky x Bi Female Reader

⚠️ Warnings: Smut. NSFW 18+!

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: A big thank you to my beta reader, @liebs82 . All mistakes are my own.

“How was the date?” Sam grins at you as you enter the kitchen. “What’s her name again?”

“Awful and who cares cause I’m never gonna see her again,” you roll your eyes.

“What happened?” Bucky asks from his seat at the island.

“We were talking about when we came out and the moment I said I’m bisexual, she got this look on her face. She said she only dates lesbians because she doesn’t want to be with someone who can’t make up their mind.”

“Oh, man. What did you say?” Sam shakes his head.

“I said, oh, and when did you choose to be a lesbian? And she was like, I didn’t, I was born this way.”

“And then I answered, yeah, me too. Got up from the table, threw down some cash to cover my portion of dinner and left. It’s so frustrating. I’ve always been attracted to both genders. It’s who I am. Just, ugh, I’m so sick of people who are only attracted to one gender having some sort of superiority about it and… I’m sorry, guys. I’ll get off my soapbox.

“No problem, doll. You can always vent to us,” Bucky says sweetly.

“Right. I’m heading out though. Gonna meet a lady friend for a drink,” Sam says with a wave.

“Booty call,” you sing-song, giving Bucky a wink.

“I heard that,” Sam calls.

“I meant for you to!” You yell back.

Bucky chuckles but then sobers as he gives you a onceover, “She really must be an idiot.”

“Thanks, Buck. Some peoples’ prejudices, ya know?” you shrug.

“I, uh, didn’t realize you’re bi. I always thought you were-”

“Le$bean?”

“Yeah.”

“I haven’t really dated guys much.”

“Why not?”

“No reason,” you survey Bucky. You had wondered more than once in the past if he was attracted to you.

“But you’d date a guy?”

“Why? You interested?” You lean on the counter, giving him a great view of your cleavage, and smirk.

“Yeah, doll. Have been since you first got here. Just didn’t think I had a shot,” Bucky gives you a cocky grin.

“Shoot your shot then, Barnes.”

--

Two weeks later, you and Bucky had been on a half dozen dates and made out until you were throbbing with need. There was one thing Bucky didn’t know and it was the reason you hadn’t dragged him to your bed.

Sam was gone on a mission with Joaquin, giving you and Bucky the house to yourselves. You had asked him if he’d like to stay in tonight, get a pizza, and watch a movie. The understood code of “let’s ignore the movie and make out.” Which is exactly where you were at this moment, laid out on the couch with Bucky on top of you. You are so wet you had probably soaked through every layer of clothing between the two of you.

"Bucky," you attempt to get his attention but it comes out a moan. His answer is to redouble his efforts, sucking a mark on your collarbone. "Barnes!"

That causes his head to snap up, "You okay?"

"Yeah," you nervously bite your lip.

Bucky gives you a cocky grin, "You wanna take this to the bedroom?"

You nod then giggle as Bucky shoots up from the couch and practically carries you to his bed. But as soon as you are laid out under him and he starts to pull your shirt off, your nerves bubble up. "Bucky?"

"Yeah, Doll?" Bucky pulls back to look at you.

"I've, um, I've never been with a guy. So, if I'm awkward at this, I'm sorry."

"You're a virgin, Doll?"

"Hardly, Barnes. I've had plenty of sex. Just never with a guy. I've always been with women."

"But you've never had a cock in you?"

"Look," you push Bucky back and straddle him, "I've been fucked good with a strap on and fingers and tongue." You put your hands under his shirt as you feel some of your confidence come back. "But it's always been with women. You won't hurt me or anything. I wanted you to know in case I'm a little awkward with anything." You pull his shirt off and smile at him, "I mean, I doubt you can beat the orgasm record that I've accomplished in a single session but I'm sure you can make it good. Right?"

Bucky rolls you under him and smirks down at you, "Is that a challenge?"

"Only if you're up for it, Sarge," you reply playfully.

Bucky leans down to whisper confidently in your ear, "Hope you don't have any big plans for tomorrow. You won't be walking straight."

“Big talk. Not seeing much action.”

Bucky grins devilishly as he gets to his knees, fists your shirt and rips it open. Your bra falls victim to him next and then your pants and panties are removed without further damage, "Wanna keep mouthing off, Doll?"

"If it gets me results, Sarge," you sass with a giggle. Your laugh quickly dies on a moan as Bucky explores your folds with his fingers.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Bucky whispers as he kisses you again. His fingers are making slow circles around your clit causing you to writhe against him. He builds you up, making the circles faster and tighter until the coil in you snaps.

“Yes, fuck!” you cry out.

“One,” Bucky whispers in your ear. His lips slide down your neck and then to your breasts. He gives each one attention as his fingers still make circles over your clit. You arch into his mouth when he swirls his tongue around your nipple and gently suckles. He trails his tongue over your belly, dipping into your navel, and then down to your mound. He traces his tongue over your folds and then his tongue spears into your opening and you cry out. He works his tongue in and out of you while never pausing the work of his fingers.

“Bucky! Fuck,” you cry out as you fall over the edge again.

“Two,” Bucky says before swiping his tongue up and over your clit. The new sensation causing you to writhe against him. You grab his hair to hold him against you as he laps at your bud.

“Bucky, God, it’s so good.”

His lips wrap around your clit and you arch as another orgasm slams through you.

“Three. What was that record again?” Bucky smirks at you from between your legs, his tongue still playing over you.

“I’ll let you know if you get there,” you smirk back at him.

“That’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” Bucky presses a finger into you as he speaks.

“Yes,” you reply breathlessly. His thick digit digging into your g spot as you throw your head back. Bucky’s tongue flicks over your clit in time with his strokes. Another moan escapes when he presses a second finger in. Each motion takes you higher until you cry, “Bucky! Oh, fuck, Bucky, I’m gonna..fuck!”

“Four. You like that, doll? Right there?” Bucky’s fingers massage your g spot.

“Yes. Bucky, will you, um, will you…” you falter, feeling a little embarrassed to ask for what you want. Something you had fantasized about more than once.

“Will I what, doll?” Bucky looks up at you.

You bite your lip for a second while butterflies erupt in your stomach, “Use your other hand?” The surprised expression that crosses his face makes you regret asking almost instantly.

“You want… you want that?” Bucky looks at you with wonder as he trails his metal hand up your leg.

“Yes. I want all of you, Bucky.”

He moves slowly but your moans encourage him. His mouth again covers your clit as he works two metal fingers in you. Your mind runs amok feeling how excited he is by your request. He's eating you as if starving and his fingers are firm yet gentle as they take you higher. The coil in you bursts yet again and the loud moan you release drives Bucky crazy.

“Five,” he groans as he kisses his way back up your body. His lips take yours again and you feel his hard length press against you through his sweatpants. Your hands slide past his waistband and encircle him. His skin was soft despite how incredibly hard his cock is. He moans into your mouth while your hands explore. You pull your hands out and roll Bucky onto his back. Sliding down him, you pull at his sweats and he lifts himself so you can pull them off. You lick your lips looking down at his well endowed cock. You reach your hand out and gently caress the length.

“I want to taste you, baby,” you say as you lower your mouth to lick the tip of his cock.

“Fuck, yes.”

“I haven’t done this before. You’ll tell me if I do something wrong?” You ask self-consciously.

“You won’t do anything wrong, doll,” Bucky holds himself still to allow you time to explore. He’s so hard it’s painful but when your sweet tongue swirls around his head, he’s ready to explode. Your lips wrap around him and the silky texture makes your eyes roll back in your head. You want to feel every inch of him on your tongue. You lick a stripe from his balls to the tip and grin when you see him fist the sheets. You repeat the action making him moan and squirm. You do it one more time and then slide him as deep as you can in your mouth. Involuntarily, his hips flex up and you pull back as you gag.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Bucky is sitting up immediately.

“No, you’re interrupting my oral exploration of your cock. Lay down!” You smirk as you push him back onto the pillows. He chuckles as you wink at him and lean down to suck him again. You hold your thumb to help suppress your gag reflex. Your tongue flicks back and forth on his underside as you take him a little deeper with each stroke. Your hand comes up to cup his balls and his breath leaves him.

“Fuck. Doll, I’m gonna come.”

“Mmmm,” you moan as you take him deep and bob your head. You guide his hand to your hair and he moans as he begins guiding you where he wants. He releases a long groan as his cum hits the back of your throat. You swallow and lick him clean. You look at him and ask with a bit of heat in your cheeks, “Was that okay?”

“So much better than okay,” Bucky winks at you. Suddenly, he’s up and maneuvered you onto your hands and knees. You gasp when it’s not his cock but his tongue that is pressed to you. He makes a long swipe from your clit all the way to your tightest hole. His tongue dances there for a second making your insides flutter before it licks its way back to your entrance. He shoves his face into you causing his tongue to plunge into your pussy. You clench around his tongue and cry out at the onslaught. He bounces you against his face making you gasp and moan with each movement. His fingers glide over your slick clit, tightening the coil in you. You release a cry when you come. Your body shudders as the waves crash over you. He rolls you onto your back, grabs his t-shirt to wipe his face which is covered in your slick, and grins down at you, “Six.”

“Getting close, Barnes,” you tease.

“And we’re nowhere near finished, doll,” he lowers himself over you. “Ready?” He flexes his hips bringing his hard cock against you.

“So fucking ready,” you whine, arching into him. His first thrust takes your breath away. The thickness of his cock stretches you deliciously. Your breath hitches with each stroke that buries him deeper. “Fuck, baby. You feel so good inside me.”

“You feel good too, doll. So wet and ready for me. Squeezing my cock,” Bucky’s lips find yours as he thrusts harder. You grab his ass, encouraging each stroke. His hands are everywhere, on your hips, caressing your breasts, holding your face for his kiss. You can’t get enough of his hips driving into you.

“Faster, please, baby,” you whimper in his ear. Bucky responds immediately, grinding against you with quick, shallow strokes. Your legs begin to tremble as you barrel towards orgasm and then you’re crying out, writhing against Bucky.

“Seven,” Bucky says as he flips you on top of him and starts fucking up into you. Pushing up from his chest, you look down at him as you ride his cock. His eyes slide down your body and back up again. Grabbing his hands, you place them on your breasts and watch him as you roll your hips faster. His cock hits that spot deep inside and then he trails a hand down to circle your clit.

“Right there. Oh, God. Just like that, just like that. Fuck!” you’re coming again, surprising yourself with how quickly it came on.

“Eight,” Bucky sits up to wrap his arms around you. He kisses you in earnest, tongues twining as he slowly rocks you on his lap. He puts his forehead to yours and stares into your eyes while guiding your hips in slow circles. Nervously, you guide his hands from your hips to wrap around your neck. You continue the movement of your hips exactly as he had been guiding you and bite your lip as you look in his eyes. He caressed your jawline with his thumbs and then you see his expression change as his hands tighten. Your breathing becomes ragged with excitement. With each circle of your hips, his hands squeeze a little more, cutting off your blood flow. “Harder,” he demands and your eyes nearly roll back in your head from the commanding tone. You keep your slow pace but grind down on him with more force. You shudder when your orgasm streaks through you, clenching down on him. “Fuck, nine.”

When you recover your breath, you whisper, “My doubt in you was misplaced, Barnes. You’re even with the record. Care to beat it?”

Bucky has you on your back in seconds and is holding your knees open wide. He pounds into you. You grab handfuls of the sheets as you let out loud cries with each thrust. Your body arches from the intense onslaught and the coil in you tightens again. Bucky lets go of your legs, puts one hand next to your head to hold himself above you, and grabs your face. He forces your mouth open with his fingers against your cheeks and spits in your mouth. He puts his hand over your mouth until he sees you swallow. “Good girl.”

The words were all it took. Your mouth opens wide in a scream as your entire body spasms. You grab hold of Bucky as your body milks him, clenching tightly around his cock as it paints your insides. His moan as he comes is sinfully delicious to your ears.

You lay together catching your breath. The low rumble of Bucky’s voice causes you to grin as he mutters sleepily, “Ten.”

“A new high score,” you giggle.

“I can beat it,” Bucky grins.

[temilyrights]

resisting you was always impossible (temily)

Summary: Tara Lewis x Emily Prentiss. Emily and Tara are forced to spend the night in a motel when a storm hits. (oh no there’s only one bed).

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This is my first fic that doesn't include a reader and I'm proud. I was forced to write this because there just aren't enough Temily fics, and I'm completely obsessed with them (also would like to marry them both pls and ty<3) Please let me know what you think! I'm hoping to write for them more in the future :)

Read on AO3

Emily swore under her breath as she pushed her way into the motel room, her clothes and hair were absolutely drenched, and she was currently rethinking every single life decision that had led her to where she was now.

Stuck in a motel room.

with only one bed.

with the ONLY person that she’d been trying to avoid getting into any situation with that blurred the lines of professionalism.

“Oh, thank god, we’ve got towels.” Tara sighed in relief, grabbing the ratty towels from the cupboard as Emily shut the door.

She chucked one in Emily’s direction and used the other to squeeze the water from her hair as she made her way over to her go-bag she’d dropped onto the table.

She looked over her shoulder at Emily, who stood frozen, and frowned. “You okay, Prentiss?”

Emily cleared her throat and made to squeeze the water out of her own hair. “Yeah.”

Tara snorted and turned back to the bag. She rested the towel on her shoulder to free up her hands. She unzips the bag and rummages through for a moment before pulling out an old band t-shirt. She turns around and holds it up for Emily to inspect.  “This okay? It’s about all I’ve got.”

“Pardon?” Emily frowned.

“You need something to change into unless you plan on catching hypothermia and considering you didn’t have your go-bag in the SUV, you’re stuck with my clothes.”

Emily struggles to breathe. “Right.” She nods, “Uh, yeah. That’s fine.”

She steps forwards and takes the shirt from Tara. “Thanks, I’m gonna...” She points in the direction of the bathroom and without waiting for a response quickly disappears.

Once the door is shut behind her Emily proceeds to quietly freak the fuck out.

Of course, it was her luck that a storm would hit on their drive back from interviewing a perp at Arizona state prison (who they suspected of being connected to their current case). The rain was so bad Emily could hardly see the road and Tara had suggested stopping for the night and picking back up in the morning when the rain would have hopefully calmed.

Which was a smart idea, but Emily had protested up until the point the car slid and nearly drove off the side of the road.

With anyone else, this situation would be annoying but fine.

But Emily’s heart fluttered stupidly around Tara and she’d taken to telling herself multiple times a day that she was Tara’s boss and that nothing could happen.

It wasn’t helping.

“Suck it up, Prentiss.” She told herself. She’d taken down serial killers; she could handle an inconvenient crush.

Emily stripped out of her clothes, leaving only her underwear on, which thankfully hadn’t been soaked through because honestly, Emily didn’t know how she would have coped if she had had to ask Tara for some. She hung the clothes over the side of the bath to dry and slipped on Tara’s T-shirt.

It was an old Rolling Stones one, and despite her and Tara’s height difference, it barely covered her ass.

“Perfect.” She muttered, and with one last look in the shitty motel mirror, Emily opened the door and stepped back into the bedroom.

And then proceeded to nearly have a stroke.

Because Emily was painfully aware of how attractive Tara was, but she was totally not prepared to see her very long, very beautiful legs. She was wearing a vest top along with short sleep shorts, and it was just a lot of beautiful skin.

“You okay, Prentiss?” Tara asked for the second time that night, with a smirk that Emily desperately wanted to kiss off her face.

“Yeah, I, uh,” Emily scrambled for something to say, “I tried phoning Rossi to let him know what happened but there’s no cell reception.”

“I’m sure they’ll figure it out. We can leave early tomorrow so we can be back at the station for nine.” Tara said as she leant down to grab something from where it rested on the bed.

Emily managed to avert her eyes from Tara’s legs just before the women straightened up and met her gaze. She held out a chocolate bar. “Want this?”

“You have food? You’re a godsend.” Emily praised, happily accepting the bar and chucking her phone onto the bed in the process. They’d been planning on grabbing dinner when they’d gotten back to the hotel, which obviously hadn’t happened. There was no way they were going to be able to order food in this weather and Emily hadn’t eaten since lunchtime.

“Of course, you don’t keep snacks in your go-bag?” Tara’s brows raised in disbelief.

“No, but I will be from now on because that’s genius.”

Tara chuckled. “It’s not a lot. Just that chocolate bar, some trail mix, and a few nutrition bars, but they’re great for emergencies.” Tara’s lips spread into a smirk, her eyes dancing. “And apparently warding off hangry Prentiss’”

Emily scoffed. “I don’t get hangry.”

“Oh, yes you do.” Tara cackled, taking a step closer to her.

“No, I don’t!”

“Sorry, but you do.”

“I do not! Take it back!” Emily ordered, stepping forward to jab a finger at Tara.

“It’s okay Prentiss, a lot of people do.” Tara’s voice lowered, that irritating smirk still painting her lips.

“Yeah, well I’m not a lot of people!” Emily rebutted and knew her face was heating up from her proximity to Tara.

Their breath was practically mingling, and Emily desperately needed to step away. To end whatever this was.

“Oh, I’m very much aware,” Tara said in a way that couldn’t be misconstrued as anything other than flirting. Her eyes dropped to Emily’s lips as her fingers brushed her chin, angling Emily’s head upwards, bringing her mouth dangerously close to hers.

Emily couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but stare deeply into Tara’s eyes. They twinkled but there was a softness behind them, her grip was gentle on Emily’s chin giving her plenty of chance to pull away, but Emily couldn’t remember any of the reasons she should.

So, instead, she nudged her head forward and met Tara’s lips.

And Tara kissed just like she did everything else, with precision, care, and passion. Emily’s hands threaded through Tara’s hair as Tara’s hands ran down her back.

The first sweep of Tara’s tongue had Emily whimpering. Even if she was thinking clearly, she wouldn’t have been able to name a single person who’d even turned her into putty this quickly.

Emily kissed back with everything she had, fighting Tara’s tongue for dominance as they stumbled back towards the bed.

They both breathed heavily as they separated, Tara sat down on the bed and tugged Emily into her lap. Her hands ran down Emily’s side, settling on her hips. Tara stared at her with soft eyes and swollen lips and Emily thought she was the most beautiful thing in the whole world.

But as she stared at Tara her mind began to clear and the full reality of what Emily had just done hit her like a ton of bricks.

“Oh god.”  Emily gasped, eyes widening in horror. “Shit. No. Fuck. Oh god.” She scrambled out of Tara’s lap and off the bed, moving to the other side of the room to put as much space between them as possible.

“We can’t- I shouldn’t have- I-” Emily blew out a breath as she struggled to find what to say. Tara just stared at her confusion and hurt shining in her eyes.

“I’m your boss.” Emily settled on, looking at Tara with desperate eyes. “We can’t do that. We can’t be...” It hurt more than it should have. She could feel her heart cracking.

Tara stood up and approached Emily. “It’ll be okay. There are plenty of agents that have dated while being on the same team.”

Emily shook her head, “I’m your boss. It’s different. There are rules in place for a reason-”

Tara scoffed, “Yeah because of Rossi.” She tried to reach for Emily’s hand, but Emily just swatted her away. “Really, Em?” Her eyes flashed with hurt. “Look, I understand it’s not an ideal situation but are you telling me that you’re just going to be able to forget about what just happened?”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re both professionals. We don’t need to make a big deal out of this.” Emily said mostly to herself. Trying to convince herself that she hadn’t just fucked things up.

“Right. Fine.” Tara muttered, not able to hide the way it hurt. She shook her head and made to step away, but Emily’s hand flew out to stop her.

“Wait.” She waited until Tara met her eyes before releasing her wrist. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt or upset you. I shouldn’t have let myself get sucked in. I should have stepped away instead of kissing you.”

Emily wanted to make this better, to get that sad look off of Tara’s face.

Tara sighed, “It’s fine, Emily. Let’s just eat and then go to bed. It’s late and I’m tired.”

It was barely 8 o’clock but Emily didn’t want to argue so instead she nodded her head.

The tension when they ate made Emily want to scream. They spoke strictly about the team, keeping the conversation light, and steadily avoiding brushing hands as they shared the bag of trail mix. It was more exhausting than the whole of Emily’s week combined.

By the time she crawled into bed, Emily was ready to hide under the covers and not come out for at least a week. She hated to think of what the next girls’ night would be like...

Tara turned the lights off, plunging the room into darkness before sliding into the bed. “Night.” She murmured.

“Goodnight.”

Emily rolled onto her side, facing away from the other women and tried to fall asleep.

The silence lasted for barely fifteen minutes before Tara sat back up, turned the lamp on and said, “You know what, It’s not fine.”

Emily rolled back over and sat up, wincing at the frustration in Tara’s face.

“You feel something too, right? This wasn’t just about sex. There’s something between us and I don’t want to ignore it just because of some bullshit fraternisation rules that only exist because Rossi is incapable of keeping it in his pants.”

“There are rules for a reason. What if something was to happen in the field, I wouldn’t be able to be objective. If I had to discipline you for a reason it would fuck with our relationship, and plus it would mess with your career if people knew you were sleeping with the boss.” Emily closed her eyes, blowing out a breath before looking at Tara with a pained smile. “I feel it too, okay? I-”

“Then stop fighting it,” Tara ordered. “I don’t care about any of that. We’ll make it work because I really like you Emily and I’m so tired of pretending I don’t.”

Emily’s body melted. Tara reached out and caressed her cheek causing Emily’s eyes to flutter close as she leaned into the contact.

“Let’s just give us a chance,” Tara whispered.

Emily opened her eyes, looking at Tara with adoration and love...because that’s what it was. It wasn’t an inconvenient crush or simple infatuation; Emily had fallen in love with Tara and there was no way of fighting that without breaking her own heart and possibly Tara’s in the process.

Emily steeled herself with a deep breath. “Okay.”

Tara’s eyes lit up in delight and Emily found the sight adorable.

“But we have to stay professional at work.”

“Yes, boss.” Tara teased before leaning in and meeting Emily in a soft kiss.

Emily hummed against her lips, “You’re gonna be the end of me, Tara Lewis.”

Tara chuckled, “Not if I can help it.”

She leaned back in and met Emily’s lips. After a few minutes, Emily groaned causing Tara to pull away with an amused look. “What?”

“I’m just imagining the teasing I’m going to receive from Rossi and JJ when they find out.”

“Well, let’s not think about that now.” She kissed Emily again.

“Yeah, you got a better idea?” Emily hummed in between kisses.

“I’ve got a few.”

Emily slid her hand up to Tara’s neck, dragging her in close and kissing the smirk off her face. Tara mewed and Emily just kissed her deeper, dragging her body down to hers and letting the rest of the world fade away as she focused solely on the beautiful woman on top of her.

taglist: @xrainydazeteax

[giorgiastastes]

버닝 / Burning (2018)

"It's too close, you might not see it"

What to say about this movie...

The film itself is quite simple, even too easy at first sighting I'd dare to say, but the meaning behind, the interpretations and smart details is what makes it unique and pretty much a masterpiece.

I'm sure that most people, or at least those who usually watch unchallenging to elaborate movies, won't like it. If you're looking for something what will be "explained to you", for the director to give you that big plot twist or long monologue, you won't find it here. But if you want to watch a work of art that'll make you think, reflect and crash your minds, you have a good journey in front of you.

I remember that as soon as I've finished watching it I went online to look for theories, to see if someone else had the same idea as me, if I got it right and what I've missed, and then I planned to write here my thoughts on the real explaination, but after rewatching and searching I've figured it out BURNING doesn't really have a "true" explaination in my idea, or better, the director definitely knows what he believes is the so called truth, but the strength of it is how free of interpretations it is. I've read hundreds theories and honestly all of them could fit just right, so for once I've decided to do something different.

In here I will summarize all the theories, under layers and explaination that I've read, figured out or found, and I will leave to you, the reader, to believe your own "truth"

This will be full of spoilers, it's actually a summarization of the after watch, so read at your own risk, and since I'm taking for granted that you've watched the movie and remember it quite well too, I won't always repeat the plot when not necessary.

• Ben sells organs on the black market. That's how he gets his money and Haemi is aware of this, and decided to sell her own organs to pay off her debt. She even says I'D SELL MY ORGANS IF I WERE YOUNGER. She could also be unaware of this and that's why she dissapears.

• Ben is a serial killer. He seduces fragile women who are very easy preys to such an handsome and carismactic young man, and then gets rid of them after he gets tired. This happens about every couple of months, which corresponds to his journey in Africa timeline. They are the greenhouses he burns, because he knows nobody will look for them, and in fact the police does not care about the greenhouses, just like they don't care about missing women nobody knows about.

Ben also owns all the qualities of a maniac sociopath who's keen on control and feels no emotion or empathy. He never cries for example. He also feels pride in his crime and he's almost tempted to confess them to show how good he is. That's why he says to Jongsu that he will burn a greenhouse close to him, but he didn't mean it in a special terminology, but more like in an emotional sense. He will kill the the closest thing the other has, which is Haemi. He also states that she dissapeared like "smoke".

This would also be justified by the creepy call the protagonist receives by Haemi before she dissapears. The biggest evidence placed by the director to prove that this theory is the most correct one is in the last scene, where Ben is putting makeup on a new girl. For a non Korean speaker it's quite hard to get the reference but Makeup and corpses' cremation are spelled in the same way in the hangul language, therefore the movie showing us Ben doing the girl's makeup is the alternative way to say he's killed her and is now cremating the body, hence his obsession with fires.

He's the one who cleaned Haemi's room and took her cat. He also keeps his victims personal objects as a throphy of some sort.

• Ben is a pimp. He's the trainer for these beautiful, young but poor women who are ready to sell themselves when he convinces them to do so. This is shown as Haemi also become less and less shy as the movie goes on, as seen in the undressing scene, while being more bold and provocative too. He changed her drastically, or maybe only let her discover a different, more free, part of herself. He also applies makeup on them how he would do to a doll, playing dress up for a woman who's now becoming just an object of desire that can be bought.

• Ben is a human trafficker. He sends women into slavery while promising them a life of luxury and happiness. That's why he shows off his idyllic lifestyle, and then sells them in Africa (where he goes frequently), where they'll never be found.

• Ben is a life guru. He teaches unsecure and frustrated women to feel liberated and less oppressed, to leave it all behind and start from scratch. They pay him, that's why he's rich. He also keeps a "souvenir" of every woman he has turned. This could explain why he shows up to the meeting with Jongsu in the finale. If he actually killed or sold these women he wouldn't fall into the other man's trick.

• Ben doesn't exist. He's just the symbol of everything Jongsu is not but aspires to be. He's rich, confident, cultured and attractive. Every flaw and layer of insecurity Jongsu seems to have, Ben lacks. And in the end, when the protagonist finally becomes brave enough to mature, to actually chase the woman he loves, he's able to kill the shadow of himself that only reminded him of how miserable he was.

• Ben and Jongsu are the same person. Much Fight Club like, they're the same human being, just different, extreme sides of one. Jongsu could have a personality disorder or maybe we're just shown two sides of him that prove his mental health issues. That's also why Haemi seems to be involved with both of them without choosing a side, because one is the gentle but insecure fraction, the other the bold but arrogant one. And then, in the end, when such division is making him go insane, he decides to kill his alter ego.

• It's just a love triangle. One of my favorite songs of all time had a similar topic. There's the main character, a shy and quiet boy, who falls in love with a girl who feels foreign and unreachable to him. But he's not the only one in her life. She also has another lover who's much more attractive and manly in a way, and all three start to share this peculiar poliamorous love story, mostly platonic. She's very pretty and feels as free as Venus, torn between two men. Then one day she leaves, and she'll never come back. But while the second boy easily moves on with his life, figuring out it was just a näive fling, the singer remains stuck, obsessing over her day and night, trying to find answers and solutions just not to deal with the realization of her not loving him enough to stay.

• Every character represents a social stereotypes and criticism of modern South Korean classes. I think this is very straightforward, especially Jongsu's jealousy of Ben's wealth, and Haemi's attempt to RISE in the social pyramid, surrounding herself with high class people like Ben or his friends, even letting them make joke of her, to mock her, all of it just to feel part of their group and reality.

• It's all in Jongsu's head.

• The disappearance of Haemi, whether it happened or not or HOW it happened are not the main focus on the movie, which instead is the characters dealing with such loss and lack of knowledge on what happened. Much like the Russian movie Loveless (2017), where the event is only used as an artistical device to let the story progress and the characters' grief culminate. Maybe we really don't need to know what happened to her, maybe she's dead, maybe she's alive and better than ever, but to the movie's intent such information is superficial, it's just the human need to fill our curiosity when were too afraid to deal with the pain of remaining unaware of it. Jongsu is sure she's been killed and that brings him to his next move, but the viewer, he doesn't need to know, because he doesn't need to act, to keep the story going.

• Haemi might have killed herself. Ben is the only one who knows about this and that's why she gives him her cat. She also shows multiple signs of advanced depression, for more than half of the movie is almost like she's not there, like she's already just the memory, the ghost of a girl who once was there.

• The movie itself is just a metaphor. The metaphor is many times used by the characters and maybe not only as a word, part of a dialogue, but the overall film might be A BIG, CRIPTIC METAPHOR.

• Everything is hereditary. From family's fortunes and richness to behavior and inner rage. Jongsu was born poor and will die as such just like his father, and even though he seems like the most innocuous being, he's able to take out his rage on other just like this father. I guess it's in the genes.

• Jongsu is the calf. The calf represents Jongsu's pureness and naivety. And when he sells it, he's also selling his soul in a way.

• Haemi represents South Korea, Jongsu North Korea, Ben is the new Korea, the one always more and more Westernized.

• We're just reading the plot of Jongsu's book. When Haemi leaves for Africa he has plenty of time to write the story he's planning to put into words, and that's what he does. Everything we see after she comes back from her journey is just the plot of the book, and the creation of Jongsu's imagination.

• A modern reinterpretation of the Great Gatsby. Yes, obviously a VERY liberate view of the novel, but many details seem to be quite evocative.

• A criticism to how South Korea treats women. Even the movie itself does this, probably on purpose. The one who disappears is a woman, but the ones who are the main centre of attention are men. She's only a story device, never the real protagonist.

• Ben wanted Jongsu to discover his crimes so he could reach fame if the other ever made a book out of it. He's so full of himself he'd rather be punished for his crimes than never showing off how good he was at covering every proof. That's why he dies almost peacefully, and shed a tear, which he claimed to have never done before.

• The well Haemi reference to, symbolizes falling into prostitution. That's why Jongsu's mother knows about it too, since it's quite obvious she's now an escort. But she states the well is dry, as a way of saying that it's not how easy and fun it might seem.

• This is just the tragic story of a boy who's lost every possible source of love. From his father in jail, his mother who abandoned him, to the only girl that ever showed him affection disappearing, and a new friend who he decides to kill.

• Ben is Death or maybe the devil personified. He helps Haemi get the courage to end it one for all, and even pushes Jongsu to kill, cursing his soul.

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

killer queen

(in which the author is self-indulgent, aziraphale presents as female, and crowley is torn between holding on and letting go)

note: i definitely wrote this while blasting killer queen, but that was probably obvious

this fic was loosely based off this request by @olivianeesan! i really went wild with it but it was fun so hopefully all's well that ends well

i'd like to apologize in advance because my 1920s nerd had a field day writing this lmao

~*~

Go to America, they said. It's the perfect place to plant the seeds of evil, they said.

Well, they'd been right. But that didn't mean Crowley had to like it.

Of course, his dislike wasn't inherent to America, at least not necessarily. Though he'd never admit it, he'd been in a seemingly perpetual bad mood following his falling out with Aziraphale in 1862.

They hadn't spoken since. And 60 years had already passed.

What was worse was that they didn't usually leave off on such a bad note. And even if they did, they would reconcile within a week or two. But this time, they hadn't.

Maybe that was what irked Crowley so much. The lack of reconciliation. Not to mention he wasn't particularly interested in digging through his emotions to figure out what else might be sparking his frustration.

(It was possible, even, that a part of him was afraid to find out.)

That being said, Crowley ended up being pretty successful in America. He was successful everywhere, of course, but Jazz Age America truly was the perfect feeding ground for evil. Americans were always looking for a little sin. Speakeasies, bootlegging, the stock market - corruption flowed through the veins of this country.

Currently, it was the middle of the night, but the speakeasy Crowley resided in was thriving. Men were drinking, flappers were dancing, music echoed around the room - in about a hundred years, he was sure this scene would be quite picturesque.

"Hey," a drunken man slurred, sliding into the seat across from Crowley. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?" Crowley muttered, taking a sip of his wine and moving his chair slightly away from the stranger.

"That Killer Queen is coming here tonight."

Crowley paused, processing the news. Interesting. Then he shrugged, not bothering to answer directly. The man appeared to take the hint and left, which was surprising, seeing as he'd smelled like he'd bathed in whiskey.

However, despite the lack of care that he presented, Crowley had to admit his interest was piqued by the man's question. The so-called Killer Queen was an infamous flapper that women hired to "test" their husbands' loyalty. She presumably seduced them to see if they were willing to cheat. It was only a thing among the elite, really.

(No one knew what Killer Queen's day job was, either, but a few rumors were floating around that she worked as a psychiatrist who focused on the trauma of abused women.)

Killer Queen was loved by half of the male population and hated by the rest. Despite this, no one could deny their attraction to her, including or perhaps especially other women.

If she did show up, Crowley had to admit that he'd be interested in meeting her.

"Oh my God!" a flapper with short black hair shrieked as she rush into the speakeasy, her feather boa slipping off her shoulders. "She's coming! She's really coming!"

Huh. Speak of the devil and she shall appear.

Crowley took another sip of his wine, then nearly choked on it as the Killer Queen entered the room.

He'd recognize those blue eyes anywhere.

"Angel?!" he sputtered. He cursed, almost biting his tongue as he realized it might have been better to keep his mouth shut.

Aziraphale glanced across the speakeasy, her eyes widening as she saw Crowley. Crowley tried to look away and pretend he hadn't seen her, but it was too late. As Aziraphale passed by his table, she sent him a look that said:

Meet me in a private room in ten minutes.

In reality, it wasn't her look that spoke, but rather her words were spoken telepathically into Crowley's mind. Sometimes being a supernatural being was convenient, even if telepathy did feel rather invasive. Tended to leave a person with an itch on the back of the neck.

Crowley found himself unable to take his eyes off Aziraphale as she walked away. The angel rarely presented as female, but he found her to be as beautiful as ever. The glittery silver flapper dress she wore hugged her curves in a way reminiscent of Bessie Smith.

Wait.

He was supposed to be angry at the angel. Not ogling her.

(Fortunately, Crowley had always been very good at multitasking.)

~*~

Crowley pulled the door shut after entering the private room, tossing his hat down on the table. "Fancy running into you here, angel. And as a flapper, of all the fashion trends to choose from."

Aziraphale's face turned a pretty shade of pink, and she fidgeted with the strings of pearls hanging around her neck. "I needed to, well, it was necessary to assimilate myself as a bit of a party girl, my dear."

"So I've heard, Killer Queen." Crowley sat down across from the angel, not particularly regretting the acidity of his tone. "You know, you could just admit that you came to fraternize with the American elite. Wouldn't hurt my feelings."

Aziraphale stared at him, her face revealing no emotion whatsoever. Then she sighed, tucking an escaped strand of her wavy blonde hair behind her ear. (The angled cut looked good on her, much to Crowley's irritation and attraction.) "I take it you're still... angry about 1862."

Angry? No, he wasn't angry. Betrayed, perhaps. Frustrated. Tired of the 60 years of resentment that still boiled inside of him. But not angry.

(How could he ever be angry at her?)

Crowley didn't bother to grace the angel with an answer to her question.

Aziraphale bit her lip, which Crowley noticed was an action cuter than it had any right to be. "Will you at least tell me why you're here? In America?"

Crowley shrugged. "Corrupting souls. Committing evil deeds. The like."

"Such as...?"

The silver ribbon that was tied around Aziraphale's forehead and threaded through her blonde hair was distracting, though not as distracting as the lower-than-usual cut of her silver dress.

Damn, he was whipped.

"Urging Prohibition along, for one. Inciting a bit of gang violence. I've already gotten two commendations for encouraging bootlegging and for my help in facilitating the development of increased organized crime."

Aziraphale chuckled, resting her elbows on the table and placing her chin on her hands. "I should have known your lot was behind Prohibition. The intention of the movement seemed too good to be true."

"Without Prohibition, there'd be no speakeasies, no bootlegging, no Al Capone. As humans say, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions. And while that's not literally accurate, it is what happened here." Crowley noticed that the angel's nails were perfectly manicured. The relaxed manner in which she sat was ridiculously poised. "Anyways. Care to tell me what you're doing in America, Miss Killer Queen? Besides the whole 'seducing humans to test their loyalty to their partners' affair."

Huh. That came out more bitter than he intended.

Aziraphale frowned. "Who told you that?" She rolled her eyes. "Trust me, my dear. I have not 'seduced' anyone. Besides, I only agree to help the women whose husbands I know are unfaithful."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "And how are you able to tell, exactly?"

Aziraphale pursed her lips (which were painted a rich crimson, and Crowley couldn't stop staring at them), then sighed. "My dear... Trust me when I tell you that there is nothing more painful than being in a room with two people, one of whom is in love with every fibre of their being, while the other feels nothing. Worst is when they never have, and they never will."

For a moment, Crowley did not respond, simply staring at the angel.

He wanted nothing more than to hold Aziraphale close to him and kiss her senseless, to kiss her with the passion of someone who'd been in love for almost 6000 years.

But he couldn't. He'd never be able to.

An angel could never love a demon. Not like that.

And thus, therein lay the problem. He did understand. Or at the very least, he was deathly afraid that he did.

Crowley laughed. It was harsh. Bitter. "No, angel. I understand plenty." He stood abruptly, unable to be in her company any longer. "I've got to be going." If he stayed even another minute, he might say something he'd regret. "I know you have holy business to attend to. All that jazz."

Aziraphale stood, too, her brow furrowed in confusion. "But you've only just got here!" Her face reddened, and she broke eye contact with the demon. "Not to mention that it's been... It's been a while since we last saw each other, and - and had a chance to... Talk."

"I have to go," Crowley repeated. He grabbed his hat off the table. "I'm sorry, angel."

"No," Aziraphale murmured. "I'm the one who's sorry." She glanced at Crowley, her expression determined and her blue eyes steely. "But as I said 60 years ago, I refuse to be a part of your self-destruction."

Her stubbornness was as endearing as it was frustrating. "I know," Crowley said simply. He placed his hat on his head before moving around the table to get to Aziraphale, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles, just above the silver ring on her middle finger. "I forgot to mention that you look beautiful," he said as he let go of her hand. "Maybe hold onto that dress for a rainy day. It suits you."

Aziraphale's face turned a deep shade of pink. "O-Oh," she stammered. "Thank you, my dear. That's - That's very kind of you to say."

Crowley turned around to leave, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait." Aziraphale's voice was hushed. Her grip on his shoulder tightened, though not enough to cause any pain. "Will - Will I see you again? Soon?"

Crowley gently shrugged her hand off of him. He didn't turn to face her. "Goodbye, angel."

He was already halfway out the door before she responded.

"My dear boy... Be careful."

And then he was gone.

~*~

[gettin-bi-bi-bi]

Hey so I'm 18 and I've never kissed anyone or been asked out or really had anyone express romantic or sexual interest in me. It makes me feel like there is something wrong me because all my friends have been in relationships or at least had people interested in them. I just dont know how to move past this and feel worthy enough to be in a relationship and I feel like I will never meet someone who will be interested in me or fall in love with me :( what do I do?

Your worth as a human being does not depend on other people’s perception of you. You weren’t put on this planet to be someone else’s love interest. Don’t waste your time trying to make people be interested in you. It won’t work. At best they’ll be interested in that fake version of you that you created and that won’t make you happy either. So just be yourself and you will eventually attract the kind of people who like your authentic personality and there might also be some among them who find you sexy. 

But that’s not really the point I want to make here, so moving on. Romance and sex can be all nice and good but it’s only one fragment of life as a human and there’s plenty more things that can give your life joy and meaning.

I know, our society puts a lot of emphasis on having to find The One and people treat sex like some initiation rite to becoming “an adult” but that’s all bollocks. Sex and romance are just some of the many things that humans sometimes ~do. It’s nothing that we inherently have to have to be worthy of anything. You have an instrinsic value that does not change based on your relationship status or the amount of sexual experience that you have (or lack thereof).

There’s no such thing as being ~worthy~ of a relationship. You don’t have to collect Good-Person-Points to earn the privilege of being loved by someone. Love (especially romantic love) is random; it sounds cheesy but it really does happen when you least expect it and you do find it in places you didn’t even look for. Because it’s not ruled by any force of nature. It just ~happens. Or it doesn’t. But either way: there’s no imaginary list on which you have to move upwards and reach a minimal level of Worth-Units to be assigned a partner.

All of that being said.... I also know how you feel and there is nothing wrong about having a desire to experience romance and/or sex and it can feel good to be wanted and desired by someone else. I do understand your frustration and I do not want to come across as if I’m minimising your pain. It is very real and I get it. I’ve been there. Here’s two things I wanna leave you with: 

1) you don’t know how many people might’ve been/be attracted to you. Do you tell every random stranger you find hot or even every person that you had a crush on in the past that you are attracted to them? Most people don’t say these things and are attracted to people “secretly” so chances are someone out there did find you attractive and you just don’t know.

2) even if nobody was sexually or romantically interested in you in the past (which I doubt because see 1) that doesn’t mean there won’t be someone in the future. You’re 18. You have your whole adult life ahead of you. I understand that you feel like you’re missing out, seeing all your friends going through their first relationships. I’ve been in exactly the same position at your age and beyond that. So... you’re in good company if I do say so myself :-P Sidenote: It’s actually quite common for queer people (especially queer women) to experience all of these things later in life. I didn’t have my first romantic relationship until I was 27. And to be quite honest? Looking back, I don’t feel like I missed out on anything in the years before. Instead I had the amazing experience to fall in love with my first boyfriend after the mortifying ordeal of being an adolescent was already way behind me. It was so chill and nice to be able to build a relationship without teenage angst and I am convinced it’s one of the reasons why it’s going so well.

So whatever the future holds for you: it’s gonna be alright and you will find your own way of making the best out of it.

Maddie